#i've check tumblr at least once a day

[deflvwered-a]

anyway just throwing it out there for the weird anon in my ask; i don't owe people constant activity on my blogs <3

[vargaslovinghours]

Fandom: Johnny the Homicidal Maniac (But really Vargas lol) Rating: Teen and up Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

What, exactly, did Scriabin take from Edgar when they separated?

My first multichapter fic for Vargas! :D Yay!

(Pls read Ch. 1 first - Ch. 2 is also recommended, but as long as you're caught up on the first, you're good to go!)

-----

Side B

What the fuck.

"It's, it's possible that if, maybe whatever happened earlier, whatever caused all that blood and for us to be knocked unconscious-"

What the fuck.

"-and if I suffered a head injury, then maybe-"

No. That's enough.

Scriabin pushed away from the closet door he'd defensively pressed himself up against and put his hands on Edgar's shoulders, which quieted him. He looked at him expectantly, with eyes that Scriabin somehow only just now realized were casually guarded, curious, uncertain in a way that denoted inexperience. That was so messed up, that was completely wrong. Edgar should've been on guard, absolutely, but only because he knew exactly what Scriabin was capable of. He really didn't want to look at him right now if this was what he was going to be seeing instead.

He spun him quickly and pushed him out the door before he could protest. He got one last look at those wide, confused eyes before he slammed the door behind him, bracing it shut with both hands for good measure.

What. The fuck. His head came forward, making a dull thud as his forehead connected with the door. He doesn't remember me? His fingers curled on the door. What does he mean he doesn't remember me?! How could he not know me?! One hand pushed through his hair; his scalp tingled and that was so weird, he felt it and it was so weird- We literally just- He literally just-! As if pulling him screaming into life wasn't bad enough, now he had decided to play some sick prank!

This can't be true. It's just like him to try and make jokes at the worst possible time, he has no tact.

There was a timid knock on the other side of the door. Scriabin jumped as it resonated through his skull, his elbow, pressed to the door with his hand buried in his hair, set his jaw. Then silence.

If he was really trying to get back in, clear things up, say he was only kidding, he'd actually try.

Nothing.

Scriabin's blood was ice as he went over it again. The way he'd said his name. The vacant look in his eyes as he said it, like his mouth knew its shape but none of the meaning. No fear, no realization, nothing that really felt like Edgar, just sound, just noise.

Maybe he really had-

Oh god. His knees gave out, and his arms had no practice at holding him upright, not yet. His hand slid down the door, his other hand guarding his head as his hair fluffed against the grain.

How could he do this

This is all his fault

Stupid, idiotic

He can't do this to me

I can't believe him

I can't believe this

How dare he leave me alone like this

Thoughts spiralling, and all he could do was hold himself down, press his fingers into the back of his neck, force his chest to his knees and maybe he wouldn't immolate under it all. He was shaking, from tension or fear he couldn't tell, his mind too hazardous and loud to cut through it all. He was shaking, dizzy, and if he moved, letting go would surely kill him.

He can't do this to me.

He breathed. And breathed. And swallowed. Eyes closed, heart pounding, sure. Confusion and dismay, whatever. Pain. Fine. So be it.

This isn't like me. A hand untethered from his vice grip in his hair, and he stayed attached to the floor. It connected with the carpet below him and became a new lifeline. He pushed up and away into a limp sit, arms already burning slightly from holding himself up after all that. He shook his head mildly. This isn't who I'm going to be in life. His body, this fear response be damned, he was in control now.

Regroup. Let's- a mental pause, barely a quarter of a second long as he turned the word in his head. Let's pretend it's all true- what does that mean?

He flopped over, leaned upright with his back against the door, heels of his fists pushed down into the carpet to scootch closer. Moving was so awkward still, very unfitting.

He was acting normal. Well, Edgar's baseline for "normal" had changed considerably, so maybe put an asterisk on that. Not that he was ever normal to begin with, but normal-for-Edgar, -ish. That means he has to have some memory.

Scriabin held out a hand, arm slung over his knee, one finger held out. He had recognized his glasses. One. The apartment. Two. Which key to use. Three. He had said Todd's name. Four.

His stuff can be discounted, he's had all that for a while. Back down to one. The kid is a new fixture. Which means he remembers the last couple months at least. He shook his head and brought his hand up to comb through his hair. Well...it's fuzzy for me, so it probably is for him, too. Scriabin remembered everything in as much clarity as the last couple months allowed, there was no way Edgar would know more even if he had all his memories.

Speaking of which, Scriabin could remember everything. He flipped through; the last two months and bringing Todd in, Edgar's parting words to Johnny, his and Devi's conversation - he grit his teeth - and further back, everything along the way, all the way back. False dreams, shared childhoods, everything that was once Edgar's alone, he still remembered it. Nothing was out of place which made it all the more strange!

This is so fucking weird, if I remember everything, then why would he-

He stopped short. His purported purpose had been to replace Edgar. Take him over completely. If he bought into the conceit for a moment, just to play in the space... He was alive now. That was not as intended; it shouldn't even have been possible.

Did he...give me his memories? Like, all the way? Not just to borrow, to shape him, give him legitimacy - he was alive now. His own person. Separate, embodied, and whole. Was this the price of life?

That's stupid. But possible, he couldn't discount. If this - he brought his hands up and looked down at them, watched himself touch his own chest and felt it beneath his coat, shirt, the nerves firing as his slid his fingers up himself - if this was possible, then...

He continued for a moment, curious and reverant, all of him new and privately exciting, to exist and to touch, to feel, smell, see, all of it clear and fresh and penetrated deeply into his mind, as if a layer of film had been lifted from his senses. The moment passed as the memories, unbidden but important, cluttered in around him again.

There were still a lot of questions, and most of them couldn't be answered without Edgar, ugh. If getting anything out of him before had been like pulling teeth, he was very sobered to think about how it might be now. Depending on how much Edgar remembered, maybe he could start piecing things together.

Did he do it on purpose? Did he know this would happen? There's no way he would have been willing to if he had- But he couldn't ask him things like that. Even if he did remember, admitting something like that...

He was just spinning his wheels at this point. Better to gather what he could from the man himself. He looked up, preparing to stand.

Ah-

The room was still in something of a state.

Edgar would be annoying, or at least distracted by trying to pick up the clothes and uncarefully unpacked items strewn about the floor from Scriabin's very successful excavation of his old glasses. The clutter would have to go if he wanted his full attention.

He grumbled as he pushed off the door to pick up the first few things. First day of life and I'm already his maid. Figures. He's always needed me to clean up after him.

Silence.

Somehow it only just hit him. Thinking alone in the late hours, planning things behind Edgar's back, it was nothing new. But a barb unsunk into his mental flesh was left out in the wide emptiness, poised to stab whoever happened upon it next, and he was the only one here.

He felt very small all of a sudden, and he didn't like it at all.

His eyes blankly scanned the room, looking for nothing, until they settled on the toy at Edgar's bedside. His toy.

He dropped the items he'd bundled into his arms and made his way over. He picked up the small simulacrum, turned it over in his hands once, and stared at it.

He wouldn't know this. Not really. He brushed a thumb up and over the little mouth, the contours of its small face. Retroactively, I've never been this at all.

I'm no one to him.

Does this mean we can start over? The thought struck him like lightning, freezing his heart in his chest. He was fixed solid, staring down at the small figure in his hands.

Before he could even think, he'd already thrown it through the open closet door, landing noisily in the box he'd dug through with a clatter. He grabbed up the fallen clothes and items and stuffed them back in the box, burying the toy in mundane detritus, then closed the cardboard flaps and slammed the door of the closet for good measure.

His breath was laboured and he glared, like wishing it gone would make the closet itself disappear.

Answers. He needed answers, more than anything.

He ripped the door open, and there was Edgar who looked up, staring dumbly back at him and carrying the clothes he'd shed earlier over his arm. Something in his mind clicked over, and he didn't think about it.

"Alright," he caught his breath for half a second, "what do you remember?"

Edgar just kept on staring, mouth open, eyes unconfident behind weak glasses. Scriabin huffed irritably, I don't have time for this, and moved towards him, arm outstretched.

"Come on." Edgar gave a small startled sound behind him as he grabbed his collar and dragged him through the doorway. He threw him across the room, not bothering to watch his arc as he closed the door behind him. The bed was that way, he'd be fine.

When he turned back, Edgar had managed to catch himself, though already halfway on the bed. Scriabin stood with his back to the door, feet planted and he crossed his arms. No more speculating around impossibilities, tangible and present as they might be, it was time for a proper interrogation. It was at least preferable to-

Edgar made a face at him and scooted back, offering a seat next to him on the bed. Equal footing briefly flashed through his mind and while he wouldn't consider it ideal, nothing today was really going his way. He sighed, then made his way over and sat across from Edgar, who was eyeing him with a certain degree of caution. At least the feeling was mutual.

"Spill." He re-crossed his arms and leaned towards Edgar. "What do you know?"

Edgar hesitated, apparently thinking, his hands laced and fingers agitatedly if quietly rubbing the backs of his hands.

"I want to verify some things first."

Scriabin snorted dismissively. Where had Edgar's overly-trusting nature gone? A serial killer, well he's an honoured guest, but Scriabin? He didn't even distrust him for the right reasons.

He gestured with an open hand, Go ahead, then tucked his arm back in.

"Todd's last name?"

Pfsh. At least it was proof enough that anything Edgar knew, Scriabin did as well. As expected.

"Casil. His stupid bear's called Shmee in case you forgot that too." Edgar shook his head. No he hadn't? If only he could just check!

"Do you know our phone number?" Obviously he did, so he rattled it off quickly, Edgar nodding in turn. He flipped his hair in time with the last digit, careful to keep his eyes covered. It was a bit of a timid attempt, being the first in this body, which was a minor blessing he supposed.

Edgar mulled over what he'd given him for a moment, then a moment longer, then a moment even longer. His eyes searched absently, gazing down into his own hand, his other on his chin, lightly thumbing his goatee. He was focused on names and numbers, but those were child's play compared to everything, everything Scriabin still wanted to know. It was frustrating on a visceral level, watching him struggle with such simple innocuous nothings while the most important person in his life was sitting right in front of him.

He was supposed to be the most important.

It was frustrating.

"You really don't remember anything, do you?" He didn't hide the sneer as it shaped his voice - odd the way his body just did that now, did things without him actively thinking them into being. Even things like the little waver that made its way in that he pushed back down and under. He was frustrated, angry, tired - any emotionality could be attributed to those, nothing else.

Edgar didn't answer, just kept his gaze locked to his face. That was almost worse. Watching him fumble through things, it wasn't fun, but at least he wasn't trying to pry. He could see him try to look past his bangs, and the fact that he didn't know better...

Scriabin looked away for a moment, then thought better of it. Best defense is a good offense.

He reached for Edgar's face, for those damn scars, ever-present reminders. Edgar shied away, not wanting to be touched suddenly by someone he didn't know. As if Scriabin had ever cared about that.

Well, things were different now. Maybe he didn't really want to touch him anyway. Not yet.

"Do you remember these...?" Instead he framed his face with his hands less than an inch from his skin, and even there he could feel the heat coming off him. Edgar reached for his face, looking away from Scriabin as he touched the angry red marks. He winced minutely, then glanced back at Scriabin, searching him, his expression guarded again. Scriabin could hear his own pulse in his ears.

"...Johnny?"

"Fuck." Fuck! "Of course you'd remember him but not me." God damn it! It wasn't right, it wasn't fair, just because Johnny came first by a hair's breadth, just because he wasn't in Edgar's head, with Edgar's fucked up little obsession with the murderous stick figure- It limited what he could get away with too, if he remembered that far back. Absolutely nothing was going in his favour.

"I'm sorry..." He sounded genuinely remorseful, and it stuck in his throat. Disgusting. "So you know Johnny, too."

"Unfortunately." Scriabin tucked his chin to his chest, arms crossed again in close proximity. This sucks. Edgar just kept rambling, unaware as ever. His excuses held this time at least, one point in his favour, no points for bringing his annoying habits with him despite everything.

"I don't think I've seen him for a couple months now? Everything's awfully..." He gave a vague gesture and Scriabin uncurled slightly. He was giving him room to contribute. He shook his head.

"You haven't."

"Have you?"

He returned to his tight coil of sulking. Not like he was keen to meet up and chat, but he couldn't explain why he hadn't had the opportunity to either.

"I remember he called, too."

"Ugh," barely above breath. Enough about Johnny! Again, Edgar continued obliviously.

"Although I don't really recall what we talked about, not for a while..."

Of course not. I took over for half of those.

He perked a bit, and Edgar focused more on him, patiently setting his hands in his lap.

"You know."

He could play this to his advantage. Give Johnny some well-deserved karmic justice for fucking him over so many times. It was almost better that Edgar didn't know - Scriabin had been trying to get him away from Johnny all this time, and if he really had forgotten everything, not just the moments when Scriabin took over but every moment they had shared, then that meant it coincided almost perfectly with his first meeting with Johnny. Blank spot after blank spot after blank spot, all lined up immediately after getting his face slashed.

He could work with that.

"It's probably trauma." Edgar startled and his hand shot to his temple, lightly touching his hair.

"Like, head trauma?" Scriabing almost laughed. Yeah, probably that too. But that wouldn't help his case.

"No." He leaned in, taking a more intimate, secretive tone. "Think about it. When did things start getting fuzzy?" If he was right on this - which of course he was, but not being able to verify, not being able to see that he was right, it was disconcerting - but if he was, Edgar's memories of Scriabin should start with that first fateful encounter, give or take. A bit of reframing here, a touch of implication there... It probably wasn't even an outright lie; if Edgar's memory were perfect after experiencing everything Johnny had put them through, that would be some kind of twisted miracle.

His only real concern was their "childhood" - how much had Scriabin pulled with him? Would that throw off his story? But that was so far back, there was no way Scriabin or Johnny could be implicated in that. As long as Edgar didn't bring it up before he thought his way around it...

Edgar stayed quiet for a long while. His eyes raced behind closed eyelids, searching, scanning, retracing - Scriabin could almost see the moments where he hesitated, stopped and went back, then starting recollecting again. He wished he could see it for real, watch him unfold himself, touch those memories again, hold up his own in contrast. Even just hear Edgar's thoughts as they went by, feel the emotions he felt. But he couldn't, so he just stared as unblinkingly as this new body would allow, just watched as Edgar went over everything on his own.

He finally opened his eyes, staring back into Scriabin's though he was sure they were still hidden. He felt naked and awkward and Edgar still hadn't said anything. If he could just see like he was supposed to, or if Edgar would just tell him, he wouldn't have to ask. I have to do everything around here.

"It was after you met him, wasn't it?"

"You think it's...mental trauma?" An unspoken 'yes.' Relief flooded him, and he pushed ahead.

"Edgar. He stabbed you." Edgar gripped his shoulder, his eyes closing again and he looked to be in pain. That was a very effective reminder at least. "Do you even know why?" He shook his head and spoke throught half-grit teeth.

"I must have made him mad, but I don't remember-" Of course not, I did that.

"Your mind is trying to protect you." Not. But one of us has to with your inexhaustable deathwish. Scriabin reached out to touch him properly, but Edgar pulled away. He didn't follow, still not yet. Play up the pity. "He messed you up so bad," with a curl in his tone, an I told you so that barely made it to words even privately; how long had he been holding that in? "Surely you must've felt like you wanted, you needed to get away from him, that he wasn't good for you, that you-" He'd told him so many times, some it must have stuck, some of it had to have-

"Then-!" Edgar's eyes shot open, wide and desperate with an edge of disbelief. A strangled gasp escaped him, half-choking him as he tried to speak. "Then why can't I remember you?!"

He almost began rolling off the cuff, but really, he still didn't know for sure. And it definitely wasn't like he could tell the truth even if he wanted to; who, who hadn't lived it, would believe him? Edgar certainly wouldn't, not with his lack of imagination. He had to dress this up, weave a narrative that was plausible, had the perfect mix of truth and falsehood to stand up to scrutiny.

Huh. Ironic.

"I..." No. Some of this was Edgar's fault too. "We...argued."

"Argued?"

"I... Mng." He wanted to aim for some kind of levity, but his throat had tightened on him. He just wanted to tell this stupid inside joke and not have it affect him, not have it mean anything, and here he was getting emotional? He'd say it and fucking mean it. "It's not like I'm in your head, so-" spat out in a rush, there, he'd said it. Haha, isn't that so funny. He swallowed harshly, pushing down everything he felt into his stomach acid. He was in control. He was fine. This didn't shake him. "I can't know for sure," another humourless laugh inside, "but I was against your relationship with Johnny. Maybe you shut me out so you could keep seeing him with no pushback."

It certainly wasn't outside the realm of possibilities of what Edgar would do to avoid taking Scriabin's extremely basic advice about fraternizing with serial killers. How many times had he been ignored up to this point, only to culminate in the ultimate 'I don't know what you're talking about.' Pfeh. I bet he wishes he'd thought of this sooner. It did nothing for his painfully stuttered pulse.

"You know, I've been trying to convince you to stop going back to him for a while, but, well..." He waved his hand at Edgar's hand still death gripped into his shoulder, and Edgar averted his eyes guiltily. At least he showed some remorse. Better than his nigh constant apologia.

He stayed quiet a moment longer, and just before Scriabin made to fill the silence again, Edgar struck him with an intense look.

"What are you to me?" Ugh. Of course. There was not a single good answer for that. Even if he told him everything- no, especially if he told him everything, there was no way Edgar would believe him. But coming up with a convincing lie on the spot, when they were so clearly something to each other - even he needed time to come up with something workable. How could he have ever prepared for a situation like this? It was never meant to happen, so many things were never meant to happen!

He continued at Scriabin's silence. "You know Nny," Ugh! Even his awful nickname. "And Todd. And...me." He couldn't refute it, so he nodded tightly. "Do you live here?"

Technically he had, and technically he hadn't. Still, going forward, it would be easier to let Edgar assume that he did. It wasn't like he had anywhere else to go at the moment anyway.

"Yes."

"Are we..." He searched him, looked him over as much as he could and he wasn't subtle about it. If only Scriabin had his proper glasses, he'd let him look as much he wanted, behold his spectacle! As it was, he just felt self-conscious and it was very unbefitting. "...family?"

The baggage on that. He did not feel like opening that particular can of worms in either of their current states. He turned his head and flipped through any number of halfway decent ways to phrase it until he hit on something Edgar would remember. Better not to contradict for now.

"You told Johnny you have no family when you met."

"That's true..." Edgar blinked, processing. "Wait, did I tell you that?" Scriabin startled. Even after he'd accounted for his memory! Of course he had to pick his story apart now, he never knew when to leave well enough alone.

"When you-" No, he had to be involved. "When we bandaged your face."

Edgar mulled on that for a few seconds, taking on a thoughtful pose. "I only remember being alone."

"You don't remember me at all. What do you want from me?" He huffed.

"No, sorry, you're right."

"Thank you." He was right!

Where had Edgar expected him to be? There was something weird about how he'd said it. He filed the thought away for later.

"So, if you've been living here, where..." Edgar looked around the room, then back to Scriabin. "Where have you been sleeping? Todd's already on the couch..."

Scriabin couldn't help as a smile sprung to his face. If he was going to present him with such a perfect opportunity, well, he'd better take it. He even had the decency to look nervous in response! This was too good.

"Would you believe me if I said right here, in bed?" He again tucked his chin, playfully this time, his hair falling further in his eyes. Even through the dark tangles he could make out Edgar's face immediately bristling with heat.

Ooh. That's such a fetching shade on you, my dear.

"But-! I, I haven't been sleeping on the floor!" He was visibly sweating!

"Correct." His smile grew. This was too easy, and he needed an easy win right about now.

"W-" He leaned forward on his legs, though refused to get any closer. When he spoke it was a harsh whisper. "Why...?"

Scriabin shrugged easily, not bothering to reign in his smile in the least. "I mean, where else, right?" He leaned in since Edgar refused to, and oh. He was blushing all the way up to his scalp. Hilarious. "You certainly didn't seem to mind." He couldn't hold back the slightly musical tone or his eyebrows inclination to move on their own. His body knew what he was getting at, and he could see it only increased Edgar's fluster. All the better.

"Well I do now!" Edgar darted up and away, stumbling in his hasty retreat. "If you'll excuse me!" though he was already practically in the hallway by the time he said it. What a display, and Scriabin's laugh was loud and natural.

Finally, something positive. He'd managed to fumble his way through, not his best work in lying or manipulation, but he'd set some important groundwork. He'd gotten some answers, and he could start to shape some more believable stories around them.

The biggest hurdles were Johnny and Devi. As long as Edgar didn't meet with them too soon - or well, at all would be preferable, but he doubted he could just keep him locked up, as much as the idea appealed to him. There were so many things that were possible now, things that he had the ability to do, given the right circumstances... All of that in due time. For now he had a yarn to spin.

He listened as Edgar fumbled in the hall, the sheer sound of cloth being pulled and folded over an arm barely perceptable. Was he really going to try to sleep on what little was left over? Maybe he'd give up once he realized the pickings were thin and beg Scriabin to let him sleep with him. Hah.

While he was out, Scriabin made his way over to the pajamas drawer. They were all old and soft, even just to his hand. They'd do for now, until he could get his own. It wasn't like he hadn't worn all this before anyway.

By the time he'd finished dressing, his clothes discarded on the opposite side of the bed to where Edgar had set up his little nest, Edgar had finally gotten himself a set of pajamas. He wondered for a moment if he'd dress with Scriabin in the room again, though maybe his intense stare drove him off. Who could say. He patted the bed with a wide grin when he returned and was dutifully ignored. He settled down to the side, and Scriabin laid on his arms to look down at him.

"Ugh, lame."

"I don't-"

"Yeah, whatever." He'd heard it all before. At least he could literally look down on him like this. He folded his hands and leaned just a bit further, looking him over. A desire he hadn't realized he had surfaced in the dark and quiet. "Give me your hand."

"Sorry?" Scriabin held out his hand expectantly.

"I used to hear your heart beat every day." Edgar looked at him incredulously, but Scriabin was unperturbed. "Let me hear it again."

He hesitated but eventually slowly offered his arm. "...Okay."

He pulled his arm up and placed his thumb against his wrist. He felt a strange mismatch - where he'd been expecting one heartbeat, there were two. He covered his surprise, near shock at the realization that of course he had his own body now, by pulling harder on Edgar's arm, directing him up to his ear.

"Wh-"

"Shh." Quietly. He had wanted this, wanted this body, this separation, this freedom for so long, and now... He spoke quietly, his voice betraying nothing. "I'm listening."

Edgar's pulse was erratic, but he hardly paid attention to it. His own fingers on Edgar's skin, warm and pliant, and Edgar's fingers twitching in his hair, he could feel it, he was trying not to touch him- This hesitation was killing him, every jerky movement away not from fear of what Scriabin could do to him, just uncertainty, like he was still a stranger- He pressed him harder to his head, and he could feel goosebumps under his fingers. He wanted to just hold him there until all the memories they'd shared poured back through him, into his blood, into his breath.

Where are you?

But he replied in that same uncertain, guarded tone that indicated he didn't know, not really.

"C...can I have my arm back now?"

He pushed him away. "Fine." Edgar curled his hand protectively against his chest, and he noticed he rubbed it slightly, he probably hadn't even realized.

He mumbled out a harried "Good night," and it was almost enough to make Scriabin smile. Almost. He could still affect him but this wasn't enough, it wasn't right.

He laid his head on the pillow, not bothering to pull his arm up over the side of the bed. If he twitched in the night and touched Edgar, well, that could mean anything. Maybe he was dreaming. Maybe he did it on purpose. Plausible deniability was one of his greatest assets.

As it was, he was just tired. Maybe he didn't pull it back because he hated the thought of sleeping alone, pushed out and forgotten, and hated it more that he was even thinking something like that. How pathetic. He didn't need anyone, especially not Edgar.

But he was tired. Not in his right mind.

Does this mean we can start over...?

The thought echoed and died, and he slept.

[zevrans-remade]

.

[catboybiologist]

saw a call out post that said you used to be an alt-right reddit white supremacist edgelord prior to transition. is that true???

EDIT: HEY IF YOURE GOING TO REBLOG OR RESPOND TO THIS PLEASE REBLOG MY OTHER VERSION OKAY? Don't be weird about speaking over people whoa actually experience racism please.

Yeah yeah, this is bait, and I doubt that the callout post you're referring to even exists.

But seriously.

Have we not learned by now not to believe callout posts, especially about trans women?

Seriously. I'm only answering this ask as a PSA. People can and will invent shit about trans women all the time. I've made it on kiwifarms at least once, and don't care to check if its happened again. I'm not big enough to have organized crusades against me, but people write false fallout posts about smaller blogs all the time.

This is one mechanism that makes Tumblr feel increasingly hostile to trans women- false dog piles organized by transphobes masquerading as whatever they need to be to get the dogpile started.

Beyond online interactions, myself and many other trans women have transphobes that they knew irl who might be compelled to pull the same bullshit.

I thought we were beyond this.

If you want an actual response (although I feel like I shouldn't grace this with any):

Closest thing to this being true is that I was a pro-capitalist neolib when I was like, 15, and didn't really leave much online trace of it. Had a touch of new atheism type arrogance and "le enlightened" type stuff. Didn't fall down the alt right pipeline, and def was not a white supremacist.

That's over a decade ago.

My reddit femboy days predate my transition by two years, btw, and I was already well into my faggot leftism by then.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for "using" a cucumber and putting it back in the fridge?

(🥒👌 to find later)

Please, I know it sounds nuts but hear me out. I feel awful and I need to know just how bad this is. Also, I intentionally left as much as possible vague as I am a minor and I do not want this to get removed for being too explicit. But the story will not make sense if I don't include certain things, please understand.

So I (16M) grew up in and currently still live in the bible belt, with extremely conservative evangelical parents. As a taste of what it's like, we have church 3 times a week, and church camp every summer. We are only allowed to access Netflix through a stupid content filter app and we can only use a restricted smart phone that is regularly checked at random by our parents. We get an hour and a half of computer usage every other day, and the internet on the computer is heavily filtered also. The only reason I have access to Tumblr and am able to post this now is because my best friend's older brother gave me his old android for my birthday a few years ago. His family is much more open minded, and I'm very close with them. I also think they have always felt a little bad for me with my family being the way they are.

I'm also gay. Obviously, my family does not know, and I intend to keep it that way. I won't go too deep into it, but it will suffice to say I struggled a lot when I was younger over this. The good thing is that in the last few years, I've been able to accept myself more and come to terms with what my own feelings about religion and faith really are. I came out to my best friend and his brother a little over a year ago, and they've been very supportive. I have yet to tell any of my other friends.

Recently, I've been trying out alcohol since my friends found a hookup. Something I have discovered is that I tend to get lewd feelings when I drink, which has nearly caused a few embarrassing moments around friends. Coincidentally, I have also been experimenting with... certain things. Being a minor, I obviously can't enter any of the adult stores around me, nor would I feel comfortable asking any of my friends to drive me there if I could. I also can't order anything online because my bank account is connected to my parents, and I don't have a shipping address I'm comfortable using for those items either. So instead, I use household objects that belong to me and can be sanitized easily. You might see where this is going.

Yesterday evening, I came home from best friend's house with a full bottle of wine in my backpack. We and a few other friends had already been sipping on a few beers that afternoon, and I still felt a little buzzed. After my family went to sleep, despite already having a little alcohol in my system, I proceeded to get wasted on this bottle of wine in my room. I don't have the clearest memory of all of this, but at some point, I got hungry and lewd-feeling. Went into the kitchen and, through some kind of thought process I can only imagine now, came back into my room with a cucumber. From the title of the post, you can hazard a guess as to what happened to this cucumber. Once I was done, I drukedly and quickly washed it in the bathroom sink and threw it back into the fridge. I went to sleep.

I started freaking out as soon as I woke up this morning. There were four cucumbers in the fridge, I was pretty positive at least two were going to be used for dinner tonight, and I had no idea which cucumber I did the deed with. To make matters worse, my mom was inviting the pastor of our church and his family over for dinner. I have practically no money currently, no license or vehicle, and no friends with vehicles free to pick up new cucumbers for me (and no reasonable explanation as to why I needed them to spot me for four cucumbers specifically). I also have no believable reason to give for why we shouldn't have cucumbers added in the salad mix. My mom knows I love them, and they haven't gone bad. Can't say I ate them because who the hell eats four raw cucumbers? And she'll interrogate both my brother and I until she gets a satisfying answer if I just throw them out. I didn't know what the hell to do about this and I was close to having a panic attack, so... I took a nap.

Evening came. Guests came over, dinner happened. We had porkchops with macaroni and side salads. Cucumbers were in the salad, and I along with pastor's family and my own, ate it like nothing was wrong. My parents, the pastor and his wife had an engaging conversation about politics, religion, and some mild church gossip after dinner. My little brother continued to read his book, and I had a very awkward and one-sided conversation about Young Sheldon with the pastor's daughter. Then they left. And I went to my room to mentally implode.

To say I'm horrified is a major understatement. I don't think anyone is going to get sick because I scrubbed all of the cucumbers with soap multiple times and cleaned the vegetable drawer with bleach when I woke up this morning. I guess I also don't know that the violated cucumber was one of the ones that was used for dinner tonight, but then it's only a matter of days until we have salad again, or if mom cuts one up for water. I've rattled my brain for any way I could get some new cucumbers without telling anyone the details of the event, but I have nothing. Don't even have the money, anyway. Gave up the last bit of cash I had for the damn wine yesterday, and I have $0.43 in total on my debit card.

Admittedly, there is a very small part of me that doesn't even really care if they have eaten or end up eating the damn thing. I can't stand my family. My parents are invasive, controlling and neurotic, and don't give a shit about how I'm doing in so far as it pertains to god and the church. I'm a little more sympathetic to my brother as he's been stuck in this hell with me, but at 13 he's already begun to regurgitate way more religious dogma than I ever did at his age. And I know for a fact that they would want nothing to do with me if they found out I was gay. They'd probably kick me out on the street and spit on me if I had to guess. But even still, this is only a small part of how I feel. What I did was still so gross, and no amount of animosity I have for them can change how mortifed I am. I do have at least a semblance of a conscience.

So...AITA for all of this? WIBTA if I did nothing about the other two cucumbers? Please help.

[forgeofthenine]

hhgggg the bachelors in rut was so.. well, hot lol. I remember there being a previous ask about the bachelor's reacting to the reader being turned into a tiefling.

I was wondering, how would they handle said reader going into heat/rut for the first time?

I've taken an unexpected absence from Tumblr the last couple days, between prepping for Christmas and being extremely busy at work I basically had no time or energy. I did, however, write this while half asleep and on the flight to see my family, given the amount of turbulence we had when I finished it maybe even nature wanted me to write more lol. There's luckily still more stuff to come over the Christmas break :)

@swordcreature come get your food-

TW: NSFW under the cut, ABO dynamics, overstimulation, orgasm denial, impact play mention

The bachelors when their partner goes into heat/rut for the first time

Dammon

Dammon is so good at handling any new tiefling issues you might have, even if he laughs a bit at first

"Baby, if you angle your head to the left it'll make getting that top on easier.“

What completely slipped his mind was that you'd eventually develop a heat cycle just like all other Tieflings

As soon as walks into the house after a day of working in the forge the smell hits him

The entire house smells like pure lust, even a single step into the doorway is enough for his pupils to dilate and his throat to go dry

If you weren't already preoccupied, you'd hear the way he thumps up the stairs in his desperation to get to your bedroom

The door swings open with a slam as Dammon stands in the doorway looking half crazed

The sight of you spread out on the bed with two fingers knuckle deep, back arched, is almost enough to send him straight into an early rut

It's only your small whimper of how much it hurts that brings him back out of his haze, suddenly realising how confusing this must be at first

The bed dips as he sits on the side, leaning over you and placing a warm hand on your equally hot face to get your attention

As hard as Dammon is in his pants, he does check you're okay first and makes sure you drink water before he starts anything

It doesn't matter how much you complain or accuse him of teasing you, he wants to make sure you won't pass out on him

Once he's sure you're okay, all bets are off

As soon as he can, he's folding you over yourself and taking things into his own hands, quite literally

He makes sure you get off at least once to the feeling of his rough, calloused hands as he fingers you without abandon

It's only after you've cum once (or twice, or thrice) on his fingers that he'll finally indulge you with his throbbing cock

The feeling of you squeezing around him, whimpering out his name, is enough for Dammon to finally hit his own rut

He can't keep his hands off you, low rumbled praises leaving his lips as he bites at your collarbones

His cock reaches places in you your fingers never could, the flared head and ridged underside making your mind numb with pleasure

The tiefling keeps you there in bed for hours, switching you between positions as he fucks you until you're both exhausted, panting messes

You'll be well taken care of afterwards too, Dammon easily picking up your now sated body and putting you in a nice warm bath

He eases you through your first heat as well as one can, even if he's dealing with an unexpected rut at the same time

Zevlor

This man was your living tiefling encyclopaedia long before you accidentally became a tiefling yourself

Your questions increased after the accident, though, and suddenly Zevlor is answering questions he never thought he'd have to

Such as "does this mean I'll have a heat cycle now? What'll that feel like?" Among others

The question stops him in his tracks because logically yes you would have a heat cycle now, but he can't remember ever meeting someone that wasn't born a tiefling

Zevlor does his best to prepare you for what may happen, and when you finally come up to him one day to tug at his sleeve he can already smell your heat

He's another one that makes sure you're prepared beforehand, but it's much easier with how early he catches on

Once you've had something to eat and drink he's happy to lead you over to your shared bedroom

Zevlors so sweet as he leads you through the beginning of it all, sweet kisses down your chest and gentle touches over your hips

You'll find his face between your legs soon enough, happily devouring you like a man starved

As composed and proper as the paladin is, he can't deny that he'd spend the rest of his life here giving you head if you'd let him

Your reactions and the sweet smell of your heat spur him on, pulling orgasm after orgasm from you with ease

At some point his fingers join in too, the digits and his tongue bringing you to ecstasy repeatedly

It's only after he's made you a boneless, whining mess that he'll finally resurface, asking if you'd still like more

Zevlors pupils are blown wide, cock hard and twitching in his pants, his own rut creeping up on him

Once you give him the go ahead he's already tearing off his own clothes, or what's left of them anyway

He eases his cock into you slowly despite the ample preparation, enjoying the anticipation of finally bottoming out inside of you

Every squeeze and flutter you make around him pulls a low groan from the older tiefling, his hand anchoring itself on your hip

He's gentle with you the whole time, happily restraining the part of him that wants to go rougher, to take you like a madman

Instead, he leads you both to climax over and over again, pulling orgasms out of your needy body

When you've both finally had your fill, his own cock oversensitive and going soft within you, that he finally reaches over for the pitcher of water he set out earlier

Zevlor will, once again, help you to eat and drink a little before he holds you close and runs his hands over your bare skin

It's soothing, easing you off to sleep, Zevlor knows you'll need all your energy to do this all over again tomorrow

Rolan

Despite being an extremely smart man, Rolan often forgets about his own ruts and the fact you'll now be experiencing similar absolutely eludes him

He's quite happy to go about his normal business running Ramaziths Tower and ignoring most of his basic bodily needs

That is, until you collapse while helping him with cataloguing

He'd already known you were feeling unwell, the tiefling insisting you stay close to him for the day so he can keep an eye on you, and he just barely catches you before you hit the ground

The wizard takes in your flushed face and the needy way you paw at his clothed chest, already trying to pull away his layers

A realisation runs through him, you're in heat

Going with the first thought that runs through his head, Rolan sweeps you up into his arms and misty steps you over to your bedroom door

It's a fiddly thing trying to open it with you in his arms, that is until he remembers he can simply summon a mage hand to help

Unloading you onto the bed, he finally lets you pull away his top layers, flustered as the full gravity of the situation dawn's on him

Sure, you two have fucked plenty of times before now, but it's different when your desperately tugging at him like he's the very air you breathe

It's only when you snap at him, asking what's taking him so long, that he kicks back into gear

Unlike the other Tieflings, all thoughts of water or food completely evade his mind

It's not long before he has you ass up and face down, a mage hand holding your wrist together above your head as he thrusts three fingers inside of you

Rolan is just as mean in bed as he is out of it, bringing you right to the precipice before pulling his touch away all together

It hardly matters to him that you're in heat really, he's determined to tease you before bringing you mind shattering pleasure

He doesn't take all comfort from you though, pitying you as tears start to roll down your cheeks, his tail intertwining with yours as he finally lets you cum

Anyone in the tower could've heard your scream as you finally get the pleasure your body craves, and that's just how he likes it

Rolan happily takes you properly afterwards, a hand on your ass when he sinks his hard cock deep into you with a single stroke

His own rut kicked in hours ago, the sheer realisation that you were in heat sparking it

And he keeps you there, for hours, cataloguing long forgotten as he thrusts so deep into you that you swear he's reaching your stomach

He's as rough with you as he usually is, the odd smack laid on your ass, hands near bruising your hips as he pulls you impossibly closer to him

The two of you stay there like that, a tangle of limbs, well into the night

Until neither of you even have the energy to move

Rolan does eventually use his mage hand to get you both water before he pulls your head into his chest and encourages you to try and get some sleep

[dtrghost]

closeness and proximity

Side note: This is my first ever tumblr fic, so uh, be gentle!! moving on!

pairing: ghost x f!reader

synopsis: callsign is sunshine, because you're anything but. team 141 thought ghost was bad? at least they could crack a smile out of the guy from time to time, you? you were stone faced, all day, every day. until one day you're not, not with a certain someone anyway.

warnings: inaccurate military language and sequences, violence, angst, descriptions of interrogation and torture, INTENSE gore (imo), cursing, allusions to mental illness (reader has sociopathic tendencies) you get the gist. If you have a weak stomach or faint heart, please do not read this, like please.

I'd also like to start this off by saying that the mc is not a good person, and that is on purpose. I've seen a lot of the angel fics where ghost falls for his antithesis, so I decided to try something new. So here, please forgive any mistakes.

if this does become a series there will most likely be smut because,,, yes.

(update it's becoming a series so if someone wants to be tagged for that lmk cause i have so many ideas for this)

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Word count: 3.4k

"Sunshine how copy?" Ghost's gruff, static filled voice called through coms, scope checking the parameters of the building she found herself held up in. She didn't respond at first, busy fighting for her life in a basement underneath the building they weren't aware of.

The deeper she went the harder it was to understand what was being relayed to her, so she settled on doing it on her own. He listened to a man grunt, their body dropping to the floor under her boot as she took a deep breath.

"There's a basement underground, coms are cutting out. I'm taking charge on clearing the basement. I'll report when I get to the surface. Sunshine out." She loathed her callsign with a passion. To speak it caused a burning hatred to spark in the lowest depths of her heart and made her cringe horribly. However, she knew it was better than letting everyone know her real name, so she dealt with it.

Ghost sighed, knowing she couldn't be stopped once she started. She had been on a few missions together in the past few years, he knew she was uptight and lacked the emotional capacity to make friends with others. It made him wonder why, what could've been that bad to freeze her heart over and shrink it to the size of the pebble he was crushing under his foot as he shifted uncomfortably. People would try and try to thaw her out, yet always failed.

He waited, taking out strays that attempted to heed the possible rescue requests that came from that basement, and patiently waited.

"This is Sunshine, basement cleared. Might wanna come take a look at this." His eyebrows furrowed, affirming the request and making his way down quickly, not wanting to stay in the open for too long. He made his way to the basement, eyes widening at the various bodies that trailed to wherever she was down there.

Had she done this all by herself?

He followed the bodies all the way to her, lights flickering, casting a bland white light on the concrete walls. seeing her digging through an opened trunk in a room filled with them.

"Weapons. American." Sunshine reported, glancing at him as he took his place next to her, seeing the American flag painted onto the inside of the lid. She turned at the sound of a groan, a soldier she left alive rousing to consciousness.

"Fuckin' hell. This mission was to take out ultranationalists." Ghost sighed. She didn't respond, the task force member watching her turn on her heel and grab the soldier by vest, throwing him against the wall with impressive strength. Blood flowed out of the back of his head, smearing against the wall as he slowly slid to the floor. He had never seen her in interrogation, but he had heard from those who have.

Brutal, heartless, some had to exit the room.

He wouldn't. He's witnessed plenty of torture tactics, even had to rely on some himself to get information necessary for national security. But this is another reason why they called her 'Sunshine', because to others she didn't feel remorse for what she did, some said she enjoyed it even, that her eyes brightened like the sun peaking over the horizon. Whether that was true or not he'd figure out now, as eager as he was. He watched her take out her knife, flipping it in her hand as she crouched to the soldier's level.

"Where'd they come from." She asked simply, keeping an even tone that surprised Ghost. He expected something more fierce, intimidating, but it was as if she was starting a conversation with a normal person. The victim attempted to spit in her face, but with a quick turn on the head it landed on the floor behind her. Her knife dug itself into his foot, his cries of pain echoing in the basement as she twisted it. The sounds of his bones cracking made Ghost shiver.

"Where'd they come from. Who sold them to you." She persisted, her face void of all emotion as she ripped the blade out of his foot. She sighed, turning to ghost who stood in the back, surveying the action. His eyebrows furrowed as she pointed to the door with her knife.

"Wait outside. This might take awhile." At first he didn't move, but the hint of impatience in her eyes spooked him out, for reasons unknown to him, but instinct told him to listen. So he slowly retreated and stood watch outside for anyone either getting up or rushing down the stairs. Y/N turned back to her victim, seeing two loops with chains hanging off of them imbedded into the wall. She tied his arms up, leaving his body sagging down.

Ghost listened to her repeat her questions, and when she didn't get an answer, a shout would follow. But those shouts turned to ear-piercing screams very quickly. He listened to pleads and begs of mercy to understand him, that he couldn't say anything out fear to what they'd do to him.

"Imagine what I'll do next if I don't get the response I want." She'd respond.

The bones cracking, the retch of vomiting, blood splattering onto the cold concrete.

"If you think you can outlast me, that I'll get tired of this and stop for the night to let you regain some of your humanity, you're wrong. Because unfortunately for you sweetheart." The blade tore through his skin, another bellow of pain emerging from his throat as he squirmed in his place. They were both coated in blood, her eyes dull and her ears tuning out the noise. To her, it was as if he was silent, his screams didn't penetrate through to her, and talked and talked until it drove him mad.

"I don't have all night, and I'm getting impatient. You won't die, I wouldn't allow that. I went through med school, graduated top of my class with a doctorate in Neuroscience. I know how to break." Which was evident as his leg was broken and facing different directions from the knee down to his toes.

"And I know how to fix. I'll keep you alive a lot longer than the night, and I'll do a lot worse. So if you want this to end, start talking, or you're in for a long week." Simon wondered what she was doing. His mind went over the possibilities until her victim finally cracked after the final scream he unleashed into the empty basement. He detailed a secret arms trade between an ally of the United States' and another country, which would lead to the likeliness of intentions for them.

War.

Y/N huffed, ripping off a piece of the soldiers shirt that wasn't soaked in sweat, blood, or vomit, which was a very small one, and wiping her hands clean as best as she could.

"Could've said that 10 minutes ago. Now, you'll bleed out within the next 5. Shame." Ghost listened to his anguished sobs as footsteps approached him, turning around from the entrance to see her, covered in blood. His eyes widened slightly, noticing a piece of...

Her eyes followed his to her vest, noticing a very small piece of flesh sitting between her shirt and gear before flicking it off to the side.

"Hopefully he didn't have HIV." She joked, but there was no humor in her voice, no sign of her finding it funny at all, as if she said it to just say it. Ghost didn't respond, he wasn't sure how. He slowly moved to look inside the room, the curiosity of what she did to the soldier eating him alive, until she grabbed his roughly.

"Don't." The word sent shivers down his spine, and he knew better than the disobey as she had operational command authority, and would likely court martial him if he had. So he took a step back and maintained eye contact, radioing in to Price.

"Captain, this is Ghost. How copy." He called, his gruff voice bringing a smile to her lips that he couldn't see due to her mask which was just a boring black one, decorated with blotches of drying blood that lightened up enough to see. "This is Price."

"We found weapons and gear, they're American." He went onto explain the situation, being weary of his mission leader walking around him in circles, waiting impatiently as he reported their findings.

"Copy that. I'll transfer this to Lanswell. Good work, report back to base for debrief."

"Copy, Ghost out." He connected his radio back to his vest. She took out her pistol, leading him to pull out his own. The behavior she exhibited was one he hadn't seen often, and it led to a deep mistrust he couldn't shake. She smirked, turning around, walking back in the room, and confirming her kill with a bullet between the eyes before reappearing in front of him.

He looked at her suspiciously as she gestured to the stairs, wondering who trained her, who made her into what she is now. She wasn't normal, not like the rest of them, she had no signs of remorse, care, or empathy for the people she killed, and she killed them with ease. Over 30 soldiers in one cramped basement and she came out unscathed, in tip top shape. He followed her out and made it to the landing zone where a helicopter came to pick them up.

She was silent the whole way back, Price being there to greet the two before they sat through debrief.

"Sunshine, we have orders from headquarters to have you join Task Force 141. Ghost is to watch over you. An official introduction will be made tomorrow." Price announced, not missing the tightened grip of Ghost's fist on the table.

"Copy that captain." She responded in her usual tone, only fueling Ghost's anger as he turned to glare at her, though she only ignored him, keeping her gaze unwavering on Price.

"Hit the showers soldier." Price dismissed, Y/N being the first to leave. But before she did, she turned to look down at her new partner.

"Happy to be on the team, Mr. Riley." It took his everything to not jump to his feet and knock her out, holding his breath to calm himself down as she walked away, the door shutting behind her. He hated that she had power over him, and worse that she rubbed it in his face.

"There's no chance in hell I'll stand for her being on my team." He immediately threw at him, standing up in his seat with his finger pressing firmly on the table in front of him.

"First, it's my team. Second, It's not my choice, orders are orders." Ghost growled lowly, clearly upset over the lack of fighting to keep her off, to keep her away to those he held near and dear to his heart, even if that wasn't too close to begin with. He saw her as a danger, an immediate threat, someone who belonged in an institution before they saw the battlefield.

"Then send an appeal. She's a war criminal. Tell em that!" He snapped.

"Bloody hell we're all war criminals. Then we'll be stuck in prison with her and you'll complain some more." Price groaned, rubbing his forehead, clearly irritated by his soldier's insistence.

"Not like that. Not how she is. She'll kill one of us before we get the next mission, hell she parade around our bodies like a joker and hail-" Price's hand slammed on the table, cutting his lieutenant off.

"Quiet." Ghost went silent, sighing deeply as he waited for Price to gather the right words, to somehow ease his mistrust in her, though he doubted she could do that. He watched as he shut the door and locked it, keeping his voice hushed, standing closer to his comrade.

"This is classified information, what I say stays in this room and is to never be discussed with anyone else. Is that understood lieutenant." Ghost's eyes widened for a moment before nodding in affirmation, waiting for his captain to continue.

"She- she wasn't brought up normally. As a great many soldiers weren't, hence why many of them join the ranks in the first place. She was a prodigy, she became a seal at 17, and on her second mission she was set up, deserted, and kidnapped. Nobody knows what happened to her in there, a search team was sent out, but she wasn't found til a few months later, and when she came out after she was different."

She was a child.

That's all Ghost could thing about. God knows what happened to her in there, and he didn't want to think about it.

"She exhibited sociopathic tendencies, she was closed off, didn't speak for a very long time. She failed psychological evaluation requirements, depression, ptsd, ecetera. Even then they sent her back out on missions a couple months later." Simon's eyes blew open, Price nodding glumly.

"Missions? Fuckin' hell, she needs help not special ops." He sneered, not at Price, but his anger was seeping through at rates he couldn't control. He was angry, how could they do that to someone? Did they not care, not even a little bit for her life? Her wellbeing?

"I know. But they're not taking her out any time soon, and now that she's on our team the least we can do is try to help her. I knew her before she became this. She was a kind soul." His voice dropped to a whisper, as if reminiscing, and he was. Her bright eyes, so full of potential when they met for her first mission, how she wheezed when she laughed. She was a kid, and it hurt his heart thinking about what she turned into over the last 6 years. Ghost nodded, silently agreeing to his motives before Price simply waved him off.

Simon hit the showers, scrubbing off the dirt and gunpowder that clung to his skin, watching the water turn black as the face paint drizzled down into it. The captain's words ran through his head over and over, the words going in one ear, through his brain, and out the other in a constant circle. He knew firsthand how corrupt his line of work could be, but that didn't make him any less angry when it revealed itself to him in the ways it did.

When he exited, fully dried and clothed with his mask back on, he passed by Y/N's room, noticing the light peaking out from underneath the door. He sighed quietly, his hand coming up and knocking on the door.

"It's open." Her cold voice responded, though it sounded more distant than before. He twisted the knob and let the door open, seeing her laying on her cot in deep thought. He went to question her, until he realized that she probably listened in on their conversation.

"You were listening." She nodded once, curtly and formally before sitting up and turning to look at him. Her eyes narrowed for a moment, analyzing every aspect about him. He felt like he was being stripped naked just by her look, his soul bare for her to look into.

Her eyes drifted over his exposed arms, the sleeveless tank he wore leaving them on display. He was a big guy, his arms were veined and muscled, tattoos filling up a majority of the space, combined with scars that passed through some of them. The top he wore was a bit tight, outline his chest in an attractive way, but she forced her eyes away, knowing he already caught onto what she was staring at.

"Price is right. I wasn't always like this. And I think he was the only one to notice, or at least point it out." She began, drawing attention away from the fact she just checked him out shamelessly.

"Wasn't right, what happened to you." He replied stiffly. She snickered, standing up. He watched her pace the room, twisting a knife in her hands, causing him to tense. She noticed.

"I'm not going to stab you lieutenant." She reassured, though it didn't help at all as she went on. She wasn't sure what she felt, confused for sure, as to why she was unable to emotionally process her emotions or evaluate the information she heard, as if her mind was barring her from contextualizing her state of mind. She knew she wasn't normal, but she couldn't bring herself to accept it and label herself.

"I was 17 when I was taken, you know that. Had a rough upbringing, I won't explain that to you now." She wasn't sure where she was going with this, and neither was he, but he'd listen for a bit to try and understand her more, maybe to trust her more now that she was his teammate. "I can feel emotion you know. Only to a certain degree, I can empathize. Fleeting, but it's there sometimes. I do feel some remorse, but you know how we are in this field. Weakness will get you killed, so you internalize it, you keep it buried underneath everything else, and because my everything else was stripped away with me, it just sits in here." She tapped her temple and shrugged. He understood what she meant, he did that too. He withheld his shame, his guilt, and his remorse, remaining a stone cold figure in the field. He saved the emotional crap for his time alone where he could deal with it in the way he knew how.

"You just let it sit there then?" He pressed, crossing his arms over his chest. She nodded.

"Don't know what to do with it. Lost my sense of self and all I know is this job. I do try though, I try to force some tears like I've seen others do, but the only time these.. feelings present themselves is on my missions, which is why everyone thinks I enjoy it. But I don't, for the record, I just can't control it like you guys do. And I envy you for that." His eyes widened slightly.

"Envy, huh."

"Mhm. You can talk to each other, find common ground and relate, make friends and connections. I can't because I don't feel like you guys do. And then you demonize me and outcast me more than I already am, so. Oops." He thought she was getting upset, but she wasn't, there was not a hint of anger or sadness or negative emotion in her person whatsoever, none that he could see anyway. Her arms were loose and carefree as she swung them around every time she turned her heel to pace back in the direction she just walked in.

"We can help you." Her first sign of feeling was an eye roll with a steady irritated gaze. But she didn't say anything. The idea of needing help repulsed her beyond anything else, made her want to punch a wall and scream, her eyes widened. Anger. There it is, outside of a mission too. She hummed, looking back at him.

"Alright Casper." He grunted, displeased by the new nickname which made her smile widen cheekily. She searched his eyes for a moment, finding entertainment in the small flames in his amber eyes, how they flickered and danced when he found something humorous, how they died out when he found something unamusing or boring, how they raged when he grew angry or determined to finish something with a newfound passion.

She liked to think he had that burn in his eyes when Price spoke to him about the notion of helping her, hoping that he'd care that much even if she didn't want the help, or perhaps she did, that would explain the want would it not? That was a thought for later. For now she'd do her job the way she knew how, she wouldn't change, not yet, not that she knew how anyway.

"We're going out for a drink tomorrow night, care to tag along." He offered, jousting his chin up at her in a heads up manner.

"I don't drink." She replied, monotone as she laid down on her cot, shutting her eyes with a sigh. He watched her body sink into the bed, all stress and tension releasing, and he took that as his dismissal. He shut the door behind him, releasing a breath and walking back to his room, confused and tired where he slept on the day's events.

Though he was curious on how tomorrow would turn out.

And that's it! If you want a series out of this let me know!! It's my first fic and I'll probably binge a bunch because I feel like writing. I'm still trying to figure out the whole border thing I wanna make everything aesthetic or whatever but yeah.

See you guys next time!!

[yuyusshinelight]

Good Morning feat s.mg

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♪ This post is just pure fiction. This does NOT represent Mingi in any way.

♪ English is not my first language so sorry if there's any mistake.

Vocabulary just in case someone doesn't know:

Jagi — sweetheart, darling, etc...

Note: Hi my shining stars! I was with my nephews recently and, since I love kids and Mingi has been making eyes at me lately, here I come with Mingi and his twins. I have to say that Tumblr has screwed this fic several times so, if there is something that is not understood or any mistake, I apologize. I've checked it but I could always have missed something so of you find anything, let me know. Despite that, I hope you like it and enjoy your reading. Love you all!

Oh... A free Saturday, something Mingi hadn't seen in a long, long time.

After returning from his last trip, he had been so busy going back and forth between the dance studio, the photos, the recording set... Maybe they had just returned home after several days, a tortuous week as his children said yesterday, but work had not given them a moment for themselves.

That's why the poor man fell exhausted as soon as his tired body slipped between the soft and cozy layers of his bed with you and your children. No more empty hotel beds where he found himself alone.

In all those years together, Mingi had developed the habit of reaching to the side so he could touch you, wrapping his arms around you and dragging your sleeping body to his chest to trap you in a lazy hug and continue sleeping a bit more if time permitted it. And after your children were born, the search for your sleeping body next to his became waking up between little arms and legs tangled on top of him. Something he hadn't been able to appreciate in a whole week for his misfortune and dislike.

Every time he stretched out his arms to look for one of the three of you, he found the coldness of an empty huge and no longer comfortable hotel bed.

Just like right now.

As soon as he woke up, he stretched out on the comfy expanse of his bed, which, strangely, now felt cold; and not only that, empty. Not noticing any of his children on top or his wife next to him, Mingi opened his eyes, doing a brief review of the silent and lonely room in search of that woman and those children that he swore he had fallen asleep with last night.

Why wasn't his family sleeping peacefully next to him?

After checking how early in the morning it was and stretching one last time between the sheets, the man emerged from the comforting warmth of those silky and soft fabrics, putting on some clothes to avoid the morning cold before going to the bathroom. It didn't take long for him to go out to the living room, listening more and more loudly the heartwarming melody of 'In the Night Garden', a program his twins liked with dolls that gave him quite a bad vibe but with catchy music that, once he heard it, he couldn't get it out of his head. More than once he had started humming the songs in the studio, even singing some of them absentmindedly.

The ones that bothered him the most? Those rare triplets with balls in their heads, not as rare as Makka Pakka, but pretty rare in their own. The other character was at least funny, and his song was catchy. Every time he saw Makka Pakka he remembered Hongjoong, he was very amused by his song the first time he heard Mingi singing it only to end up a few years later singing it himself all day because his son became obsessed with it.

Without wanting to disturb the peace of his twins, comfortably nestled between the big cushions of the couch, singing half asleep while they gave harmless kicks to each other, Mingi leaned down to give each of them a kiss on the head before leaving for the kitchen where it was more than likely that you would be preparing them a feeding bottle.

And there you were. With your back to the door with one bottle already ready and the other half finished. A golden opportunity for Mingi who, with a silent step, approached you to hug you from behind and steal a kiss on your cheek before hiding his face in your neck, bringing out of you a sweet smile and a soft "Good morning, jagi" You gave him a kiss on the forehead after closing the milk powder jar "It's not good when you weren't next to me when I woke up".

Even though he was adding a comedic touch, you knew Mingi was being serious. He had already told you before how sad it made him to wake up alone, even more so after spending several days away from home.

But what else could you do when those hungry mini versions of him had even pinched you to wake you up so you could make them breakfast? They hadn't even given you time to react when they had already jumped out of bed to run to the living room to put on their program.

You were a responsible mother, you weren't going to leave those two mini whirlwinds alone in the living room just because you wanted to sleep a little more. And, although you could have woken up their father so that he could feed them while you rested a bit more, Mingi was so peacefully asleep that you were sorry to wake him.

The moment you noticed his pouty lips when he lifted his head from your neck you gave him another kiss, but this one on the lips, earning a pleasant hum from him "Sorry jagi" You would have continued preparing the bottle if it weren't for your husband's sudden need to get frisky "For leaving me all alone? Give me a good reason not to tickle you right now".

Just thinking about it made you shake with laughter, Mingi knew perfectly well that this was one of your weak points, almost everything tickled you and he had taken great advantage of it several times before.

"Come on, jagi" You tried to persuade him but his hand on your waist, rising dangerously towards that point where even the touch tickled you, made you change tactics "You were so peacefully sleeping that I didn't have the heart to wake you up" his nose suddenly tickling your neck made you bristle and giggle, making him chuckle in your neck which triggered a series of shivers down your spine "Furthermore," you tried to continue despite laughing at the slightest "your children started running and you know that leaving them alone for more than a minute isn't a good idea".

Mingi knew perfectly well that you were only looking out for his well-being, last night you already looked slightly worried about how tired he had come home; he couldn't love you more.

"Thank you, love" He took the bottle you were preparing from your hands "But you're also tired, I could have helped you make them breakfast" without taking his eyes off you for a second, he closed the bottle and began to shake it to mix the powdered milk with the normal milk "Well, you can always keep an eye on them while I take a shower".

"And that's what I had planned, babe" One, two, three pecks he gave you on the lips, slapping your ass with enough force to make you take a little jump "Go and take your shower, daddy takes care of everything" he took both bottles and finally separated from your body "Good luck handling those little whirlwinds, daddy" you winked at him, an action that made the man unable to resist the temptation of stealing another quick kiss from you before you both left the kitchen, Mingi going with your kids as you went to the bathroom, laughing when you heard that cute "Whose bottles are these?" on Mingi's part, the picture of your children asking for their breakfasts with their little hands made you turn around for a moment to see that, indeed, they were doing exactly that.

In the end, it was how they asked you every morning.

Well, as long as they were in their father's hands you could shower in peace. And that's what you did, take a refreshing and much-needed shower from which you came out faster than you expected. The need to see your babies in their father's arms you thought, laughing at that same though.

With such a beautiful scene you came across when you appeared in the living room again: your children comfortably placed in their father's lap while Mingi gave them their bottles, their gaze fixed on the television as they grabbed their father's hands with both their tiny hands.

It was certainly a scene you could never get tired of.

[mylittlesecrethaven]

Twst Kinks And Shit They Like To Do During Sex: Savanaclaw

Let's fucking go I've been wanting to do this for a while now. (Tws ahead of time in case I get some crazy kink going on one of the characters because.... yeah.... there might be some strange kinks in here that aren't common.... so.... idk) (I was gonna do sex positions, but then I realized I don't know any.....)

Leona:

Biting kink. Can't help it. He def has a biting kink. Like, full on bite. Bite so deep it bleeds and scars kinda shit. And I know it's fucked up, but it makes it so much better for him if you squirm or jolt when he bites you.

You are getting crushed during sex. I'm sorry, but it's happening. Leona either squeezes you so close to him or literally lays on you while he plows into you.

Ruggie:

Hmmm.... Kinda hard for this guy.... *proceeds to look up other Tumblr posts for ideas cause literally no idea* Ooo! Face sitting! He'd def be into that. Treats it like a daily meal. If he doesn't get to taste you at least once a day, he's gonna be in a bad mood.

During sex, love love loves baring his teeth. Not in an intimidation thing (and this isn't related to hyenas either, it's just something I thought of), but it's just a weird thing he likes to do. Like he's showing off or something. (Hates it when you call his fangies cute, but ya gotta admit, they kinda are)

Jack:

Is there such a thing as a sweat kink? Or a workout kink? Cause I feel like Jack would have that. Not when he works out, that'd be a big issue, but when he sees you sweating during a workout. I feel like he'd see you running or something and see you sweat and just get a boner so fucking fast.

Hmm.... for during sex, I like the idea that he's constantly checking up on you. In my head, this mans can go for hours on end, and you probably can't, so he'll force himself to take breaks and take care of you for a little bit. (Because he loves you, of course, but also to prove he's capable of taking care of you.)

Yeah.... Ruggie's kinda sucked.... Sorry....

[bixbythemartian]

I hate making these.

It's that time of the month where I ask for help. I'm Bix, I'm a queer, disabled writer. I've written some really good stuff, I think, including the daycare worker story, which just turned three a few days ago. You can also check my pinned post for a lot more stories. I can't work and I need help paying for rent and bills and things. I need about 700 to get through the month.

You can tip me on this post you can venmo me at the same user name I have on tumblr or you can tip me through -> ko-fi <-

if you see this post, you can check the notes, because I update it at least once daily with new totals, so you know how far along I'm doing.

Thank you for reading this, I hope you have a lovely day.

[catopoliscat]

nail day / fem!reader/atsuya kusakabe.

you always had a way of catching atsuya off-guard in your relationship. you decide to take things to a whole new level with just your nails, and then atsuya's doing things he never thought he would be doing, in places he never thought he'd be doing them.

tags: nsfw. 18+. fem!reader. afab!reader. established relationship (you've been together a few months). ‘get your nails painted the colour of his tip’. canon!verse. atsuya gives me heavy boomer energy ngl. sexting. semi-public sex (kind of, solo masturbation). mentions of edging (reader). shades of dom!reader but feels more like more sexually-open!reader lmao. shades of insecure kuskabe. man has feelings but don’t tell him. toge, maki and panda cameo at the start because i love them. no use of y/n or any other placeholders. ever.

wc: 6.9k

a/n: a masterclass in how to stretch a 2k concept into nearly 7k for no reason ft. an overlooked side character, blegh

also tumblr keeps fucking up my formatting with the texts in this so,,, ignore that. i've tried to fix it twice.

mdni.

The ‘ding’, though faint, rings out through the quiet walls of the classroom, disturbing the languid, tranquil air. 

Atsuya purses his lips around his lollipop, eyes slowly opening. He’s reluctant to move his body from its semi-comfortable position—feet propped up on the edge of the worn desk in front of him, hands behind his head. It was a favourite of his during the warmer hours of the afternoon on a slower work day, like today. From his spot, the soft sun filters in through the windows just right, warming his body and making him just the right amount of relaxed. 

He doesn’t have to look at the clock above the dated chalkboard to know what time it was, his body told him that. Just another twenty minutes and then it was home-sweet-home. 

Swinging his eyes lazily across his cluttered desk, he spots his phone amidst the ungraded papers and documents. The screen is lit up, lighting up the cracks on the glass he is still yet to replace. He can make out the faint outline of a text message, from you no doubt, but once again, he’s reluctant to move to check it just yet. 

Astuya rolls his tongue around the sweet in his mouth once, then twice. The stick rolls from the left side of his mouth to the right. 

His eyes flick up to his students across from him, his gaze moving across each one. Panda’s head rests in his large fist (paw?), his beady black eyes slowly blinking, clearly still trying to stay awake although his teacher was almost napping mere moments ago. Toge was reclined in his chair, feet kicked out across the aisle, fiddling with his phone underneath the desk where he presumed Atsuya couldn’t see it (he could, and he could definitely recognise the sound of Candy Crush when he heard it). His eyes finally meet Maki’s where she sits, arms folded, spear resting against her desk like a faithful dog. 

She holds Atsuya’s gaze with a strength a sixteen-year-old shouldn’t have, something searching in her gaze. After a few moments of uncomfortable eye contact (at least on Atsuya’s behalf), she raises an eyebrow at him, the thin arch peeking above the rim of her glasses. 

The ‘ding’ rings out again. 

“Are you going to answer that?” she finally says. Panda jolts in his seat, straightening up, looking across the classroom as if expecting someone to come running in. Toge’s eyes do not move from his lap, ‘delicious!’ echoing through the classroom a second later. 

“Get back to work,” Atsuya grumbles, shooting Maki a withering look before reaching for his phone anyway, pulling it toward his eyes. 

pain in my ass sent you a photo. 

He squints, just about making out the small icon of the photo in the corner of the notification. It looks like your hand. 

Oh yeah, he thinks to himself, nail day. Even when you were away on a mission, you always seemed to make time for it. 

Atsuya flicks his gaze across his students again and sees three sets of eyes trained on him despite his earlier order. Seems like he was the most interesting thing in this classroom right now. 

Ignoring the expectant look of his students, he unlocks his phone with a swipe of his thumb. He pulls up the text thread with you, presses on the photo and low and behold, there’s your hand, nails adorned with a fresh new colour. A pretty kind of dark pink.

Atsuya exhales a gush of air through his nose, admiring the contour of your hand for a moment. You hadn’t sent a message with it, and for a moment he’s tempted just to leave a thumbs up on the picture and call it a day. After all, what the hell did he know about manicures? Your nails looked nice, he guessed, but you always looked nice, even without them.

But then he remembers the lecture you had given him about his ‘lacklustre’ responses once and he hesitates. Despite having a sister, he still didn’t get women. At all. And it showed sometimes. Sometimes.  

He clears his throat and glances across at his students. “Woman sends you a nail picture, what do you say? Go.” 

Maki raises an eyebrow at him again, her expression the definition of the question ‘really, idiot?’

Panda perks up a little though, scratching at his chin. “Something complimentary, maybe? How about… ’looks very nice?’” 

Atsuya nods, pursing his lips around the lollipop in his mouth for a moment. It sounded good to him, at least. 

Toge shakes his head, a small, negatory ‘fish flakes’ falling from his lips. Atsuya frowns at him for putting doubt in his mind—and for the fact that the speech-user didn’t give him any sort of clue as to what he should say instead.

“Is this really necessary?” Maki drawls at last, kicking one heel over the other, “She’s your girlfriend.” 

A beat of silence passes in the classroom. 

“Give me a good response and I’ll let you leave now.” 

Maki holds his stare for a moment longer, before pushing back her chair with a loud scrape. She walks over to Atsuya’s desk and holds out her hand, even that small movement is somehow aggressive. 

Atsuya hesitates for a second, glancing down at the girl's slightly calloused palm. His eyes flick to the message thread after, scrolling up a little, making sure there wasn’t anything… obscene, before handing her the phone. 

He watches as she types something, both thumbs moving faster than Atsuya could ever manage before he hears the little familiar ‘woosh’ of a message being sent. She hands him back the phone a moment later. 

She folds her arms across her chest again. “Well?”

Atsuya raises a finger, looking down at the message. 

Gorgeous as always. I love that colour on you. 

He keeps his finger raised as he stares down at the message, watching as the small ‘read 2:37 pm’ pops up underneath his forged text. 

A little heart pops up a second later, and Atusya clicks his fingers before jabbing his thumb in the direction of the classroom door. His students waste little time in grabbing their things and filing out of the classroom, the door shutting a moment later. 

Wow, who knew you could be so adorable, Cutiekabe? 

Atsuya smiles, a touch smugly, to himself. He briefly contemplates how weird it would be if he got his students to write more of his texts to you. They clearly understood something he didn’t. 

what can I say? I try

He slumps back in his seat a little more, pleased with himself. His pride quickly melts away, however, when you reply again. 

So, who was it? Maki or Toge? 

Atsuya mutters a small ‘shit’ around his lollipop, before pulling it from between his lips with a pop. He should have known better. You had always been freakishly… aware of things. 

… what gave it away? 

The correct grammar. idiot 

Dumping his phone in his lap with a sigh, Atsuya scratches the back of his neck, wondering how he can try and salvage the situation. He knew you weren’t mad-mad, but still. It wasn’t exactly a good look for him—and he knew he wouldn’t hear the end of this for a good long while. A grown man having a sixteen-year-old write his message because he was useless with genuine affection and emotion? Embarrassing. 

The phone dings again, and he picks it back up, shoving his lollipop back into his mouth. 

Do you like them though? The colour’s special. Really special.

Raising an eyebrow, he scrolls up back to the hand photo to see what he just missed. Was pink your favourite colour? He couldn’t remember. He didn’t think so… but now he was doubting again. He had already messed up once, and now he was on a fast track to digging himself a deeper grave. 

i like them  a lot its a real nice pink

Atsuya cringes at his choice of words and wishes he could unsend the message, but he knows you’ve already seen it. 

You should. You look at the same shade every day, you know. 

…?

“…the fuck did I miss?” he mutters to himself, frowning down at the screen. 

It’s the colour of your tip, Kusakabe. 

He raises an eyebrow at his phone as his thumbs tap out another reply. 

the tip of my what? 

It takes Atsuya three heartbeats before he realises what you’re saying.

He almost drops his phone in his haste to scroll back up to the photo, his feet sliding off the desk as he leans forward in his seat. That pinkish shade on the tips of your nails glares back at him, and his eyes grow wider and wider by the second. Only now you’ve pointed it out, the shade is really fucking familiar, and it’s all he can see now. 

His lips part, the lollipop falling from his mouth and onto the floor. 

The tip of his dick. You got your nails painted the same colour as his fucking dick. 

ur kiddingreally? why

There’s a pause before he sends another stream of messages. 

is this some trend thing?  or a prank? seems fucking weird u couldn’t have done my eyes or something?  anything that wasn’t to do with my actual dick???

It’s as if he can hear the echo of your laughter in the room with him right now, even though he knows you’re a few hundred miles away. In his mind's eye, he can make out the crease of your eyes and cheeks as you take in his borderline shocked and repulsed expression. 

Atsuya knew you were younger than him, though only a little—but sometimes it felt as if you two were worlds apart when it came to things like this. He didn’t know how you kept up with it all. Especially if the main trends of today were getting your nails painted dick-colours. 

What, you don’t like it, baby? It’s like I have you with me wherever I go, now. Or your dick, anyway.  

He rolls his eyes, your teasing tone heard loud and clear. He briefly contemplates letting the message hang, let you bask in your own foolishness while he heads back to the apartment—though he had been spending more time at the school lately. Home felt a little weird without you there, as much as he loathed to think about it. 

Another ding. 

It’s gonna be so much more fun touching myself later. 

And just like that, Atsuya feels his whole world grind to a halt with just a few words. In a flash of smoke, all thoughts of his dick shade (was it really that pink though?) disappear out of the window, replaced instead with an image that comes as clearly to him as his own reflection. 

You, sprawled out on some dusted futon in a rundown hotel, naked and flushed—thighs parted, pussy glistening and wet, ready for him; clit swollen underneath those pretty pink fingertips and—

Atsuya’s head whips over his shoulder left and right, clutching his phone a little tighter to himself, despite the classroom being blissfully empty. Still, he’s cautious—as he should be while at work. In a fucking school no less. 

goddamn womanare u trying to kill me? im still at work

Atsuya’s hand drifts down, adjusting himself as discreetly as he can manage. He’s not fully hard, but his cock is definitely sitting a little heavier in his slacks just from the mere thought of your words alone. You always had that affect on him. 

Well, that, and two weeks (15 days to be exact) without you was starting to drive him insane. His hand could only do so much—even with your panties wrapped around them. 

Atsuya curses, trying (and failing) not to think about that as he feels himself swell a little fuller. Luckily, another ding registers before he can dwell on what he’s more than likely going to do as soon as he gets home. 

Why? I bet you sent the kids out ages ago. 

He purses his lips. There was that freaky-woman-sixth-sense you seemed to have. That, or he was just that predictable. 

still!!!u know what u do to me…u really gonna do that tho?

Atsuya pauses, his thumbs stilling a moment, before he continues on. 

send pics if u do 

He hesitates again, his face pulling into some sort of grimace. 

i really fucking miss you

Cringing a little, he locks his phone before you can reply, shoving it into his pocket and standing from his desk. He couldn’t deal with anything else right now, not while he was at work. Not with Satoru hanging around too. 

The last thing he wanted in the world was for that white-haired fool to see him walking around with a goddamn boner. 

Packing up his things in an even more harried and rushed way than usual, papers half-spilling out of his briefcase, he throws on his coat before heading out the door. All he had to do was pick up a few things from the store for dinner and then he was home free and he could… indulge.

Although the idea of another night fucking up into his fist imagining it was your hand around him wasn’t ideal, it would do for now. Maybe you really would send a few pictures to help him along. Hell, at this point he’d use that damn hand picture. 

Continuing down the hallway, his mind a million miles away, he tells himself he won’t check his phone until he gets back home just in case you do. It was safer that way. You were… unpredictable sometimes. Especially when it came to sex.  

“Not until I get back home,” he mutters under his breath as he strides down the hallway. 

He tells himself that, anyway. 

What Atsuya Kusakabe tells himself and what he actually does are sometimes two separate things. 

Standing in a small supermarket an hour later, looking at the different packages of instant ramen (God, you’d moan at him if you knew he was eating ready meals instead of something sustainable, but what you didn’t know wouldn’t hurt you), he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. 

His eyes move from the rows of brightly-coloured plastic packaging down to the square lump in his slacks. He chews on his bottom lip indecisively for a moment, telling himself it was probably just you goading him for actually admitting he liked having you close—and not the pictures he had already spent an entire train journey fantasising about. 

Atsuya swallows, ignoring the vibration as he pulls a random ramen packet from the shelf and dumps it in the basket on his arm. 

He’s standing in the beer and wine aisle when his phone vibrates again, reminding him about the notification. His eye twitches, but once again, he ignores it—dumping a four-pack of cheap beer into his basket alongside his cheap meal. 

Again, his phone vibrates in the fresh-food aisle (he doesn’t pick anything up, just passing through on the way to the candy), and again, he ignores it. 

Three more times it chimes, in quick succession, as he picks up a lollipop. His fingers twitch around the stick as he stares at the packaging—strawberry and sakura-flavoured! 

Flushed pink colour, stick included. 

Atsuya swallows, throwing the lollipop back on the pile quickly and instead grabs a watermelon-flavoured one. Bright green. 

His phone vibrates once more on his way to the checkout, and Atsuya’s resolve breaks like a taut wire. Impatience finally wins out. 

As he digs his hand into his pocket, fishing out his phone, he tells himself it’s because he cares. After all, you rarely texted him this much. What if you had run into trouble? Maybe you were asking for help? Burying the voice that tells him that if that were the case, then you’d at least call him—he swipes open his phone— 

—and then he nearly drops the damn thing on the floor. 

Phone opening straight back up on the message thread, he’s greeted by several photos of you—fully naked, spread out across sheets, just like in his earlier fantasy… but fucking better because this was real. Right in front of him. So close, yet so far. 

Atsuya slams the screen against his chest so fucking quickly it makes a loud thump, and an older woman further down the aisle sends him a strange look. He offers a strained smile in return as he turns his back to her, his heartbeat thumping against his ribs. 

Close the damn thread, Kusakabe, he tells himself, wait until you get back home. 

What he tells himself and what he does, however… 

Atsuya walks quickly, quicker than he ever did at work, until he disappears down an emptier aisle, heat prickling at the back of his neck. His footsteps draw to a stop right next to some laundry detergent, and with a quick look left and right, he peels his phone from his chest like a bloodied bandage, slowly, as if scared of the damage underneath. 

He takes another peek at the images, and sure enough, there you still are. It might not have been some rundown motel or futon (thank fuck), but the white sheets underneath make the familiar flush of your skin practically glow. The first few images are of your face and chest, smiling up at the camera above you all sweet and saccharine like you have no idea what the fuck that look does to him. His eyes trail over your face, your lashes and the curve of your lips, before slowly dragging downward, down your neck and across your collarbone, until his eyes lock onto your breasts. 

You’ve got one hand squeezing one of the mounds, freshly done fingernails digging into the plump flesh just enough to leave indents. The pink of your nails shines in the low light, and his mind snaps to the thought of his cock between your tits, sliding between the valley slick with spit and pre-cum as you looked up at him from underneath your lashes. It was something he hadn’t done yet but fuck if he hadn’t thought about it. Dreamt about it sometimes too.

“…oh fuck,” Atsuya mutters under his breath, glancing around him once more to make sure he was still alone. He was, but this was dangerous—he knew it. He became distinctly aware of the potential of cameras around, scoping out for thieves and delinquents. All it would take was one dedicated employee who was paying attention to see a grown man lusting at pictures of a naked woman on his phone in the middle of a fucking store. 

Was it… wrong that Atsuya kind of liked that idea? Not the thought of anyone else seeing you like this, fuck no, but… the thought of someone seeing that this was the person he got to go home to every day. The woman he called his own. The woman he got to see like this in the flesh. The woman he got to touch, feel, fuck. He’s always been proud to show you off in his own way, but this was a whole new level. 

Atsuya’s really glad he adjusted himself earlier, but fuck if the growing thickness in his slacks wasn’t uncomfortable. And embarrassing. 

Glancing down at the photos again, he releases a shuddering breath. The POV of the pictures taken above makes Atsuya feel like he’s there, right above you, hips between your thighs like he fucking should be—not about to pay up on some groceries and go home alone to an empty apartment that still smelled like you. 

Another picture comes through, this time of between your thighs, and Atsuya has to suck in his bottom lip to stop from groaning aloud. 

Those pretty folds of yours, already glistening with arousal; underwear hanging off the soft thigh of one leg… the sight is fucking sinful. Your middle finger is already buried deep inside you all the way to the knuckle, the rest of your fingers splayed out around. 

That fucking shade of pink is staring at him once again, reminding him of your choice, your reasoning, and Atsuya finally gets the prank, the trend, whatever it is. He fucking gets it now. 

As his grip on his phone tightens, threatening to bend the already damaged plastic underneath his fingers, another message comes through. 

I miss you too, ‘kabe. See how much? Two fingers deep and all I can think about is your cock instead. 

Atsuya’s mind spins, clouded with lust and thoughts of you and you only. He feels like he might sway on his feet as the full force of his need and longing seems to hit him square in the chest, sending him dizzy. 

Oh, how he missed you. He missed you so fucking much. 

He leans up against the shelves, some of the boxes of powdered detergent rustling underneath him, but he pays it little attention. His eyes are locked on those photos, and the reminder that you missed him just as fucking much as he missed you. 

Are you hard for me too? 

Atsuya’s quick to adjust the basket hanging off of his arm as he brings both hands up to his phone. 

u have no fucking ideaur so goddamn sexy you know that??i’m hard as a goddamn rock right now

Show me. 

Atsuya’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead in surprise. He glances over his shoulders once more and sees a young couple walk past the aisle and onto the next one, giggling about something. 

i canti’m in a storenot in the mood for getting arrested for public indecency

Oh? Opening my nudes out in public? Dirty old man. 

Atsuya can’t bring himself to disagree with you, although the use of ‘old’ does sting a little. 

Do they have toilets? Go there. I want to see you. 

Oh, now you were playing with fire. Opening your messages in public full-well expecting what was in them was reckless enough, but if this was heading where Atsuya thought it was—and it probably was if his resolve was all that was holding him back—then this was downright idiotic. Dumb. Stupid. Gojo-coded. 

And yet the sound of his shoes against the tiles rings out across the store anyway as he marches toward the public bathrooms, the half-filled basket abandoned on the floor.  

He swings open the door of the male bathrooms a touch more forcefully than necessary, quickly scoping out the space. It’s clean, thankfully, although the scent of bleach and other cleaning chemicals hangs heavy in the air. Hardly the sexiest place, but it’s empty—though that’s always in danger of changing. 

Striding past the sinks and urinals, he heads toward one of the stalls, pushing open the door and stepping inside before shutting it once more—and locking it too. He rests his back against the door with a sigh as he swipes open the camera app on his phone. 

The fluorescent lighting isn’t the best, but it’s all he has to work with as he takes a slightly shaky picture of the swell in his dark trousers. His cock sits thick and proud against his zipper, the outline of it abundantly clear. 

He sends it to you without a message and without a second thought, staring down at the screen intently as he sees those familiar three dots immediately pop up. 

Fuck, you really are hard. Just for me? 

Atsuya scoffs out loud, though the sound is weaker than usual. 

who else???u think I’d send pics like this to anyone else? in a public bathroom??u drive me goddamn crazy

So cute.Take it out. I want to see it properly. 

Atsuya freezes for a moment. Although getting your dick out in a public bathroom wasn’t exactly new, this was… different. For him, anyway. Sexting, sending nudes, let alone in a public place… he wasn’t exactly well-versed in this type of thing. It had always seemed a little young for him. None of his previous partners had done anything like this. 

But he had no idea whether this was a regular thing with your past partners though… 

…and the thought of that alone has his one hand fiddling with this button on his slacks, trying to tug it free of the hole. He just about manages, though his zipper requires a little more finesse, but eventually, that gives too.

He heaves a small sigh of relief as the constriction on his aching cock finally lessens, and inching his trousers and boxers down just enough, he lets it spring free. He shivers slightly as the cool, stagnant air of the bathroom hits his overheated skin, the flushed head (pink, pink, pink) shining up at him. 

With a slightly shaking hand, he wraps his free hand around the base of his cock, twitching at the minute stimulation. He snaps another picture and sends it once more.

see what you do to me? god I wish u were herethe things I’d do to you right noweven in this fucking bathroom

Your reply is almost instantaneous. 

Touch yourself and tell me. 

His eyebrows shoot up his forehead. He wonders if that would be too far for him right now considering his environment. He wonders how the hell he’s even meant to type one-handed. He can barely do it with two. 

A second later, you’re answering his questions for him as he sees his phone light up in his hand, displaying your caller ID. A picture of you and him on one of your first dates stares back at him, the pair of you smiling together in a dimly lit booth, his arm around your waist, your head on his shoulder. You look so happy to be there. Atsuya still looks faintly surprised you turned up. 

It’s one of Atsuya’s favourite photos. His students had teased him for it when he had set it as his lock screen, so he had changed it back to default and set it as your caller ID instead. It’s how they had found out you and him were even a thing. He still remembers feeling smug at his student’s surprised faces… before the questions had started. You and her?! Is she okay in the head or…? 

Atsuya stares down at the vibrating phone in his hand, looking at your soft smile staring back at him. It’s a romantic picture. Doesn’t quite fit the vibe of what he’s about to partake in at all. 

He answers the call, holding it up to his ear. He’s immediately greeted by your breathy purr, dispelling all doubts or hesitancy like wind on sand. 

“Hey, baby,” he hears you say down the line. “You have no idea how fucking wet I am for you right now.” 

Atsuya groans, his head hitting the cool door behind him with a dull thunk. 

“Fuck, don’t say it like that,” he groans, before wedging his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Why not? It’s the truth.” 

Atsuya doesn’t doubt your words, because he can fucking hear it. Behind muted moans and breathy sighs, he can hear the sound of your fingers plunging in and out of your heat, the wet squelch so audible it’s lewd. His cock twitches at the sound, and he scrunches his eyes closed.

In his mind's eye, he can almost see himself with you, between your legs, thrusting into you like his life depended on it. Though your fingers are slower than what he’d do if he was there right now, he lines his imagination up with the audio queue you’ve given, and another guttural groan seeps past his bitten lip. 

“Come on, baby, talk to me,” he distantly hears you purr into the receiver. “Are you stroking your cock for me? Just like I would?” 

Atsuya spits a curse as his free hand curls around his shaft on instinct, giving the base a small squeeze before he drags his hand up to the flushed tip. He repeats the motion a few times, practically milking himself, trying to mimic those irritating fucking teasing motions you always worked him up with. 

Not as if he needs much working up though, not now. 

“Yeah,” he exhales shakily. “Fuck, ‘s pretty fucking s-sensitive right now.” 

He hears a breathy chuckle in response to his words. “Aw, too worked up?” 

“Pent-up, more like,” he replies, fighting back another groan as he feels himself leak. He quickly collects it with his fingers, smearing it down his shaft and lubricating the way. 

“Been saving yourself for me, ‘suya?” 

Atsuya huffs a breath that’s almost like a chuckle. “N-Nah, not really, ngh—“ His hips buck up into his palm as he grazes over the sensitive tip. “Just ‘s not the same without you.” 

You coo down the line in response but the sound abruptly cuts off, replaced by a breathy moan instead. Fuck, those were amongst his favourite sounds of yours—almost as much as when you’d moan his— 

“Fuck, Atsuya,” you moan, and his cock practically jumps in his fist. He hears the sound of your fingers working faster, and his eyes roll back underneath his closed lids. 

He widens his stance and leans back further against the door, his hips jutting outward as he quickens his pace to match yours. He can feel his loosened slacks dropping lower on his thighs with every buck of his hips, his untucked shirt ghosting across his lower abdomen. His mind is trying to scream at him that this isn’t the place to be letting go like this, but it’s been so long without you, without hearing you, without touching you that he feels like God himself could break down the bathroom door and he wouldn’t care. Not while you were moaning his name like that. 

“God I miss you so fucking much,” Atsuya groans, his voice thick and choked. He works his fist a little faster over his cock, focusing on the tip mostly—just like you would when you really wanted him to make some noise. “Are you close? God, tell me you’re fucking close.” 

The urge to say ‘please’ is on the tip of his tongue but he just about resists for now—but his pride was quickly melting down into pure, unadulterated desperation as he felt his balls draw tighter and his stomach clench harder. He thinks this might be the quickest he’s ever cum. 

“Mm, I’m so close,” you reply in a semi-strained whisper. “I’ve been close for days.” 

Atsuya’s hand stutters on his cock, his eyes slowly blinking open. “…days?” 

There’s a pause before you answer, and he can already picture the way your brow arches pointedly. “You should know me better by now, ‘suya,” you chuckle. “I don’t mind edging myself now and then, especially when I’m away from you. It’ll just make it all the more better when I finally do see you.” 

Atsuya’s breathing is still ragged as he stares at the far wall of the toilet stall, his brows pinched in slight confusion. He realises that those wet noises on the other end have stopped too.

“You haven’t… cum since you left?” 

“Of course not,” you chuckle. “You think I want to cum around anything other than your cock?” 

Goddamn, does Atsuya’s cock throb something fierce at that. His breath hitches in his throat, his eyes widening at the wall. He immediately stops moving his hand, pinching his fingers around the base instead in the hopes of stopping the climax that just snuck up on him like a tornado in the dark. 

Your words, fucking hot as they were, put Atsuya in a little predicament though. Whilst he liked (actually loved) the idea that you were waiting just for him… did you… expect the same of him? Was this just all a little fun? Because he was hard as a rock right now, throbbing in his own palm, and all he could think about was how close he was and how this climax was probably going to knock the breath from him. Not the little ports-in-the-storms he’d been having since you had left fifteen days ago.

“Did you stop?” 

Atsuya blinks, feeling strangely awkward like some teenage boy on his first date all over again—exactly how he had felt on his first date with you, seeing you all dressed up for the first time, just for him. 

He becomes distinctly aware of how loud his breathing is, how it carries against the cold tiles around him. “Yeah… I mean, did you want…” 

“Don’t stop,” you say, saving him the agony of asking. “Just because I like edging myself doesn’t mean I expect the same of you.” He hears the rustling of sheets on the other side as you change positions. “Keep going, baby, let me hear how much you want me—and I’ll return the favour and then some when I get back.” 

Words fail him for a moment, because all he can think about is how much he wants to kiss you right now, to cover your body, head to toe, in kisses that he hopes portray his gratitude for you better than his words ever could. For once, he wants to leave his cock neglected and bury his face in your cunt until you’re screaming out, clawing at his scalp as he shows you just how much he fucking loves y-

Slowly, his hand starts moving again; slow, languid pumps from base to tip. His eyelids flutter, a half-choked moan pushing out from the bottom of the chest.

“I don’t deserve you,” he mumbles, his words thick and laced with something not even he knows. “You’re so fucking sexy, everything I want.” 

“Mm, you’re always so sweet when you get worked up,” you purr into the phone, the words so breathy that Atsuya swears he can feel the heat against his ear. “Keep going. What would you do if I were there, right in front of you? Would I be on my knees?” 

Atsuya’s eyes roll as his lids shut, his chin jutting up toward the ceiling as he picks up the pace on his cock. He can picture it so fucking clearly that the stagnant air of the bathroom fades away. The image of you on your knees, looking up at him from underneath those lashes of yours… you’d swipe your tongue over your bottom lip just to tease him, and it’d work every damn time. 

He nods his head in eager, stuttered movements, as if you could actually see him. “On your knees, on your back—ngh!—I don’t fucking care,” he groans. 

Through his haze of lust, he knows what you’re trying to do, what you always tried to get him to do. Dirty-talk. It wasn’t his forte, you usually took the lead with that (he much preferred actually fucking you rather than talking about it… that and his imagination wasn’t exactly the best), but you seemed to lap up whatever pathetic attempt he usually tried to give you. 

Swallowing thickly, he clears his throat once. “Y-you’d be naked, just for me,” he mutters, his eyes fluttering open again as he gains a little confidence. “You’d use your mouth just how I like, y-yeah?” His grip around his shaft tightens, his pace quickening a touch more. His breathing grows ragged, harsh puffs slipping past his bitten lips. “F-fuck, you always look so goddamn sexy when you look up at me with my cock in your mouth.” 

A resonant hum greets him in response. “Oh, yeah? What else do you like?”  

“The way your tits bounce as I fuck you, s-shit.” Something scarily close to a whimper coils at the back of Atsuya’s throat as he feels himself nearing that precipice again. His thighs tense up and tremble, most of his weight supported by the stall door behind him now. “W-When you, mmf, dig your nails into my b-back like you’re trying to fucking kill me—oh fuck—“ 

Atsuya’s hand is working almost fervently now, the slick sounds mingling with his harsh breaths and low voice. He’s loud, far too fucking loud for a public bathroom, but he’s so close, so worked up that it barely becomes a concern anymore. If he focuses, he can smell your perfume instead of cleaning chemicals, feel the heat of your body against his instead of the cool door against his back—feel the heat of your pussy hugging his cock so tightly it’s like you’re begging him to fill you up with every stroke— 

“I’m close,” he rushes out, his tone almost panicked as he feels the intense prickles working up the base of his spine. His skin feels like it’s burning, the hairs on the back of his neck standing to attention like there’s a storm coming. He knows this climax is going to be intense—intense in a way that only you can ever work from him, even if you weren’t actually here. 

“Waiting for my permission?” you giggle, and Atsuya wants to snap at you but he can’t, not right now because… well, he is. He just wants to hear you say it, that you want it. That you want him. 

“F-fuck, don’t joke right now I c-can’t hold i—“ 

“Cum for me, Atsuya.” 

And just like that, Atsuya lurches over the edge so fierce it sucks all the air from his lungs. 

A sharp gasp catches in his throat as his cock pulses in his hand, ropes of his essence shooting from the tip so suddenly it makes his back arch. A loud, guttural groan bursts from his lips, his hips stuttering, expression pinched into something almost pained as he cums harder than he can ever remember before. Thick, pearlescent ribbons land across his fingers, shirt and tie, some even hitting his collar too. Pitchy curses leave his lips in a symphony, his vision swimming. 

Distantly, over the pounding in his skull and the blood rushing in his ears, he can hear you coo praises down the line as he continues draining himself of every drop he has, stiff grunts accompanying each stroke. His hand only stops when the sensation becomes far too much to bear, and he lets his hand fall from his cock back to his side with a ragged sigh.

His body slumps against the stall door, his eyes hooded as he tries to catch his breath. He can’t even bring himself to look down at the state he’s in, not right now—not while his head was swimming with endorphins and he finally felt sated for once. 

Fuck that warm, sunny spot at his desk. That had nothing on this. 

“Fuck, I wish I was there to see that,” you finally say after a moment of silence. “Feel good?” 

“…you have no idea, babe,” he murmurs, a small, lazy smile tugging at the side of his lips. “God I needed that.” 

You chuckle again. “Sounds like it, babe. I’m surprised the whole store didn’t come running to see what that groan was.” 

Atsuya can’t help but chuckle in response, though his smile is a touch embarrassed. He makes a mental note that he should probably avoid this store in future. It was going to be awkward enough leaving. 

And he still had to get something for dinner. He’d probably order takeout. 

Fuck it, it was worth it. 

Going to raise a hand to his clammy brow, he swiftly pauses, the sight of his soaked fingers making him curse. His eyes finally flick from his hand to his stained shirt after, the mess causing him to grimace, almost repulsed. “Fuck, it’s everywhere,” he grumbles, wedging his phone in the crook between his ear and shoulder as goes to grab some tissues. 

This, of course, makes you practically howl with laughter into the receiver—but Atsuya can’t bring himself to be pissy. Not when he hears you like this, not after you just talked him through an orgasm so explosive his legs are still trembling. 

Not while you were… well, you. 

As Atsuya does his best to wipe himself down and pull his trousers back up, your laughter eventually dies down. “Now I really wish I had been there to see that… just a pity it wasn’t inside me.” 

Atsuya pauses as he curses under his breath, his oversensitive cock twitching in his repsonse. “You and your goddamn mouth,” he mutters, dumping the soiled tissues in the toilet and flushing. “You’re the whole reason I’m in this toilet, you know.”

“Hey, you chose to open those photos in public, perv.”

He doesn’t argue with that. Though he would never admit it aloud, lest he give you the pleasure, he was weak for you. More than even he was aware of–and time away from you was only proving that.

“When are you coming back?” 

“Tomorrow morning,” you reply easily, making Atsuya wonder just how the hell you were so relaxed after supposedly edging yourself for days. “The cursed spirit was dead before twelve today. Got my nails done afterwards as a little treat.” 

Atsuya shakes his head with a snort as he steps out of the stall finally, making his way over to the sink as he continues to try and fix the damage he caused. He places his phone gently on the counter. “You’re strange, you know that?” 

You hum in agreement, and he can already envision the way your lips pull to the side in that little smile he loves so much. “You love it.” 

Atsuya washes his hand in the sink, glancing up to catch his reflection in the mirror. His face is still a little flushed, his clothes still dishevelled—he’ll definitely have to throw out his tie probably—but he realises he looks… 

…happy. 

“Yeah,” Atsuya mumbles, shaking his hands in the sink. “Yeah, I do.” 

masterlist.

[factual-fantasy]

25 asks! Thank you! :}} 👹

I have it in the back of my mind, but I haven't actually made any steps in making more master posts.. 😔

ReBLOGGING is good! Its a feature of Tumblr and helps more people find my artwork! Very nice :))

RePOSTING is stealing my art and posting it on your own account. Giving you and only you all the credit. That's theft and no good!

I think I remember wanting my sona to be an object head of some kind. I think I doodled probably a dozen different ideas before I got frustrated and just scribbled my most recent attempt out.

But then it hit me. I doodled two little white eyes on the scribble and I knew I had found my sona XDD

@xxthedragonrebornxx

XD Thank you for remembering my boundaries and respecting them! :)) And THANK YOU FOR THE CUPCAKE!! :DDD

I haven't read it, but I've seen it blowing up all over tumblr. It must be pretty cool! :00

@milk-powrit

<XD I won't lie, Bill is a fantastic villain. I just "hate" him because Stanley is my favorite character and Bill put his family through hell 💀

Most of the team: "Aww 🥰💞💞"

Gloria: "WHO ARE YOU AND HOW ARE YOU HOLDING ALL OF US UP AT ONCE"

@pink088

<XD These past 2-3 days have just hammered me health wise, but I can at least say that I've been sleeping enough!

And thanks for the check in! I wish you the best :))

(Pokemon violet comic(?))

:DD Thank you!! I'm glad you liked it!! :)))

If I ever really go into those series I would :00 But I cant remember the Godziilla movies- plus that would be really hard to draw <XDD

There's so many sonic medias that i wouldn't know which one to go by- and I've seen playthroughs of Poppy playtime but it never really grabbed my interest.. <XD

I'll do my best to keep up with all that <XDD Thank you!

(Frank butterfly post)

Oh there's no need to worry about Frank! It might be hard to tell- but that was actually a moth! Frank had bags under his eyes because he was out late studying moths :))

<XD Well considering Homes intentions are intended to be unknown- you're free to imagine that! :D

@skywillow28022

ohmygosh the third movie is so good I actually cant watch it anymore lest I burst into tears 😭😭😭💞💞💞 10/10 WOULD recommend cars 3--

Anyways- I ADORE the cars franchise and absolutely would have drawn them more.. if cars weren't so hard to draw <XD Plus my favorite thing to draw is angsty cuddles and hugs and big droopy eyes and tears- that's kiiiind'a hard to pull off if your characters are cars-

Of course I could always draw them as humans like many other artists have.. but idk, it just doesn't feel the same you know? <XD

Also thank you! I hope you day goes well too! :))

@neo-metalscottic (Welcome home post(?)) (Octonauts eye study) (Oxem and Pepemijo comic)

AAAAA Thank you sop much! :DD I'm glad you've been liking my recent posts!

As for Oxem and Pepemijo, I cant show images because of the stupid 30 images limit-- But Pepemigo is based on/inspired by the Year of the dragon mask, and Oxem is based on the current season of Duets seasonal guide mask! :00

I imagine there are other dragons out there, like that other sky dragon that I made one time-- <XDD I don't really have any ideas for their powers or their story, but I had intended that Pepemijo at least knocked the krill out in self defense. Thankfully they wont be hunted by krill following that event- Oxem got them to a safe place and he knows that he should steer clear of krill territory in the future <XD

And of course! I'd love to see any critters that you've made! :DDD

@sussyhahag

uhg, always disappointing to see.. thank you for letting me know though 😔

*VERY LOUD CARTOON BROKEN HEART SOUND* (I LOVE THISSS)

<XD yup.

Also even though that disclaimer is there for FNAF and Octonauts, I still get people harassing me anyways!.... :')

@vesselofmanythings

AAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! :DDD And I wish you luck on your slime rancher creative adventure!! :}}}

AAA THANK YOU SO MUCH!! :DDDD That means a lot!!! :))

@starsbee

This shouldn't have made me laugh as much as it did XDD

@wolfie-777

Oh no.... THAT MUST BE ME WELCOME HOME AU COMING BACK--

@anikakitty11

Somethin ain't right with that dog <XDD

@edelgeist (Referencing this post)

oooh :00 I wasn't aware of that- thank you for the info! Perhaps I should invest in a cooling pad <XD

I have not <:( But after googling it- I love the artstyle! :DD

[i-literally-cant-with-this]

A/N ♕ This is gaudy as shit and I don't care. Idk. There may be inconsistencies with the story, so, sorry. I've been working on this all day. 8 pages on Google Docs so you're in for a read. Good stuff starts at page 3 (mind you, this is from Google Docs perspective.) I read, reread, rereread, rerereread, rererereread .... until I couldn't. This is a little headcanon-y and a little fic-y. It's just what I was feeling. I know you know what to do if there's anything horribly wrong. For real, though. This is so fucking long I never want to see my laptop again.

C/W ♕ Unprotected P->V, F->M & M->F Oral, M->eating his cum (sorta) from F, kinda rough sex but they like it. I'm so brain dead right now that I can't remember everything. Soft broken Hanma eventually. I like you, no shit? I like you too. Kiss kiss. Snooze snooze. Happy happy.

Funsies ♕ A link of the playlist I made while I was writing this in case anyone wants to check it out. I don't think the read will exhaust the playlist so pick any song you want and it should, theoretically work at any point?

WC ♕ 3,915 (ISH - I change things once I get it here on Tumblr, but it's around that.

♕ You'll never forget the first time you rode on the back of Hanma's bike with him.

♕ He wasn't really keen on the idea of taking you home. You weren't even his responsibility.

♕ But it was a favor for one of his captains.

♕ Hanma put his helmet on you, tightening the strap under your chin carefully so he wouldn't pinch your delicate skin.

♕ He was so pissed when he noticed how pretty your eyes were, staring so intently back into his. He had to shake himself out of the distraction.

♕ "You're not wearing a helmet, Shuji?" You asked.

♕ "This's the only one I have, obviously. And you're going to wear it, got it?" He was so adamant about that.

♕ He got you settled in the helmet and threw his leg over his bike. Looking at you impatiently, waiting for you to get on, he put his hand out and you took it.

♕ You hopped on behind him and wrapped your arms around his straight waistline. And you're not sure if your heart skipped a beat because you were so nervous about being on the back of a motorcycle with him for the first time or if it was how you felt with your cheek pressed to his back

♕ He also noticed how nice your arms felt wrapped around him. He turned his head before he took off and told you you'd better hold on tighter, he doesn't drive like a 30 year old.

♕ Hanma thought he turned his head enough from your line of vision before he smiled. But you saw it.

♕ So you did what he asked and squeezed him tighter, pressing your chest harder against his back.

♕ He started the engine and the vibrations sent shockwaves throughout your cunt body like you've never experienced.

♕ Both you and Hanma thought it wasn't possible for you to get any closer to him, but you both somehow managed to impress the other.

♕ He was at a stoplight about 3 blocks from your house and he reached back to give your thigh a little pat.

♕ "Hold on to me, hana. I'm gonna go like hell when I see that light turn green."

♕ His hand stayed on your thigh even after he took off. Stayed there for so long, actually, that you were getting concerned about the upcoming turn in the road. But he pulled his hand forward just in time to take it with ease.

♕ The wind against your face that carried his scent - which you could NOT place, (Sandlewood? Cedar? It was DELICIOUS to say the least) was starting to make you feel drunk.

♕ You could just barely hear the music playing through the small (but strangely loud) speakers --- Be Quiet and Drive (Far Away), Deftones. You had heard the song before and liked it but now it held a certain heaviness over you. Everything about this moment felt right. The night was warm. The stars were out.

♕ How the fuck had you not realized this before?

♕ Hanma is ... he's fucking sexy.

♕ He pulled up to your place and he stopped the bike, letting it idle while sitting in your driveway.

♕ "Ok, you have arrived at your destination. You're welcome, for the ride of your life." He seemed a little more lighthearted now than when he first was roped into taking you home.

♕ "Yeah. Yeah, thanks. Um, thanks. Do you - maybe ... want some ..." you just couldn't fucking talk. He looked so handsome in the soft yellow lights that lined the street.

♕ "You got some food? I could eat, yeah." He kicked the bike stand out and turned it off and reached up to remove his helmet from your head.

♕ If he missed the blush that washed over your face he'd have to be a blind man. But you noticed a faint smile on him, too. So you think he caught it.

♕ "What do you feel like? I just went shopping and I'm fully stocked." You stood with your back to him, he was in the living room looking around at the shit you had all over your walls. Weird art that made him feel things. Stuff he's never thought himself capable of feeling - not bad things, either. But new things.

♕ And you felt comfortable with all of this. Knowing he was in another room than you. Except, he wasn't in the living room anymore. He was right fucking behind you. You stopped to look up into the cupboard you stood in front of to see what was there, if it was easy and quick to fix up.

♕ He reached out and traced the curve of your waist and leaned in, putting his face to the back of your head. "You going to feed me, y/n?"

♕ Your first thought was who's going to perform CPR on your right now because you're about to die. His breath was so hot on the back of your neck you were able to document the time that your heart actually stopped beating for a second.

♕ Hanma put his hands on your shoulders and ran them down your arms. When he got to your wrists, he pulled them behind your back more roughly than you've ever been touched by any man before.

♕ And he's so much taller than you, so he has to bend over so he can talk right into your ear.

♕ "I'm sure it's ready for me to eat right now. Not much prep is going to be required. I guess, in a way, you could almost call it fast food?" He yanked you so you were standing up straight and your back was flush with his front.

♕ You didn't know what to do with your hands so you just left them where he placed them. He had his free hand back on your waist, squeezing and exploring.

♕ "I don't think I've ever wanted something so bad as I do right now, hana." He said, letting his fingers dip lower and lower. You threw your head back and it fit into the dip between his neck and shoulder.

♕ You couldn't help but think he was such a fucking gentleman, waiting for your permission before he took anything. You leaned back against his chest and turned your head to kiss him. "Then take ... take it. Take what you want, Shuji. Take it all."

♕ Hanma's hand went back up to your throat and squeezed just enough to make you gasp.

♕ He leaned around and pressed his mouth to the corners of your lips, teasing you into giving yourself fully over to the kiss and sliding his tongue down your jawline to your neck. Ending up at your ear once more.

♕ "Good girl, hana. You're so wet for me right now, I can fucking smell it. Tell me what you want me to take. Hm? You want me to take you? You're going to be so good for me. Or maybe not? Maybe you're just going to be a nasty ... little ... bitch. I think I'd like to see that. This sweet girl act you put on. I've seen you walking around like you're just the best thing around here. Well? You going to prove that to me, hana? Huh?" He said, his voice dropping an octave as he ran his hand down your stomach and dipped his fingers into your panties.

♕ He moaned into your ear, "Oh fuck, hana. You're dripping for me. I'm going to fucking ruin you."

♕ He turned you around more roughly than he had to and hoisted you onto the counter, yanking your pants down and kneeling down before you, inhaling your scent. Deeply.

♕ Hanma looked up at you with such fire in his eyes, you couldn't help but feel a little intimidated. He traced his finger over your pussy, feeling your wetness before leaning forward and dragging his tongue over the same invisible line his finger forged on your trembling skin.

♕ You arched your back and gasped as he brushed his lips against your thighs. You could feel how heavy his breathing had gotten. He pushed one finger passed your folds, then two, and you could feel yourself tightening around him.

♕ "Shu, f-fuck. Please, I need ... I need ..."

♕ He looked up at you with his eyebrows raised. "What do you need, hana. Use your words."

♕ You reached down and grabbed him by the ears, pulling him up to your face. "I ... fuck me, Shuji." You kissed him, tasting yourself on him.

♕ Hanma didn't waste a second. He pulled you off the counter and dragged you into your bedroom. You turned around and yanked at his belt buckle, pulling it from the loops all at once and threw it across the room, unzipping his pants and pulling them down.

♕ He leaned you over the bed, spreading your legs and reaching up to squeeze your ass. You looked back at him, wanting him to fill you up.

♕ Hanma rubbed his tip up and down your slit, teasing you. "Shuji just ... just fuck me."

♕ You were so whiny and needy. It was making him so hard. He wanted to fuck you right then and there. To give you what you were so desperately and metaphorically, on your knees for.

♕ But the sadist in him, found it hard to acknowledge your pleas so soon. He didn't want you to work for this, per se. But he wanted to make good and damn sure you wanted him as much as he wanted you. So what if he had to deny himself instant gratification. The look on your sweet, flushed face was already worth having to drag this out.

♕ "You've been so good for me, hana. I'm going to give you exactly what you need. But I don't want you to come too soon." He said, smirking as he pulled you back to your feet and turned you around, pressing his hands into your shoulders until you were on your knees.

♕ Hanma reached down and pulled his cock out of his boxers and he patted your chin a few times. Urging your mouth to open so he could slap it on your tongue before pushing his tip into your mouth. You let him guide you as you took him down your throat. He kept his eyes on you, watching as you struggled to take him all the way in.

♕ "Fuck, y/n. Look at you. Taking me like a good little slut. I knew you were going to act like a little bitch in heat. Choking down my cock like that." He praised you through gritted teeth. Despite sounding so volatile, it made you feel so good to be used by him this way.

♕ He pulled out of your mouth and pushed you back onto the bed, flipping you over onto your stomach. He pulled your hips up and guided his tip into you, slowly pushing himself in until he was all the way inside you.

♕ Hanma held himself there for a minute, feeling you tighten around him. He started moving again, in and out of you.

♕ You felt like you were on the edge of an orgasm with every thrust. The disgusting way he used you for his own pleasure and the way he spoke to you was driving you mad.

♕ "Shuji, fuck ... I'm gonna cum."

♕ He pulled out and turned you onto your back. He spread your legs apart and leaned over you, pushing himself back inside you and pressing his lips to yours.

♕ "Yeah? How close? How close are you?" He dragged his teeth over your ear and on down to your visibly beating pulse point and left a purple mark in his wake. You clenched up around his cock so hard when he did this that he had to stop moving and pull himself together. "Fuck! Hana! Keep that shit up and this is over. I'm fucking finished."

♕ He thrust into you harder, his balls slapping against your ass wasn't helping you hold off cumming all over him. You felt your orgasm building up inside you. You reached down to rub your clit, but he saw where your fingers were aiming and he brushed your hand aside and started rubbing soft circles on it for you. It made you moan - the most whorish, slutty sound you have ever let out.

♕ It was out of your control at this point. His dick pounding inside of you, hitting all the right spots at all the right times was making you more cock-drunk than you have ever felt. If you could even consider yourself aware of anything other than his golden eyes burning holes into yours and the rise and fall of his hips against your spread legs.

♕ Your cunt swallowed his cock so perfectly. The thought crossed your mind that you were made for each other. But that's ridiculous. Hanma hates you. Right? He didn't even want to take you home. So why, then, is he balls deep inside of you right now. Don't fucking ask, you thought to yourself. Doing any and every little thing you could to stave off your imminent crash.

♕ He could see your eyes start to roll back and he knew what was happening. He pressed his thumb harder against your clit and started circling it faster.

♕ "Cum for me, hana. Show me how much you wanted this, how much you wanted my cock inside of you." He sucked on your nipple as he fucked you. Balancing over you on his left hand, his right hand still trifling with your pulsing clit. You tried to buck up against him for any extra stimulation but he only pulled back. "Aht! I make you cum. You ... you let me. Understand, hana? I ... make ... you ... cum." He growled through his clenched jaw directly into your ear. Punctuating each word with driving his hips harder and harder against you.

♕ You couldn't hold it in anymore. You came so hard and you didn't even care that he was watching you so closely. You let your body relax and gave in to the moment. You'd pretty much checked out mentally, but whatever connection remained between your brain and your body was otherworldly. You felt his cock sliding in and out of your soaked cunt. It was so thick and long. Nothing like you imagined it would be by just looking at his tall, thin frame. (But aren't those guys always the wildcard?) It was all you could focus on.

♕ Hanma was ready to cum, too. He pulled out of you and turned you over onto your stomach again. He slapped his wet cock against your ass before pushing back into your pussy, making you moan into the sheets.

♕ You were still twitching against him. As close as he was to blowing his sticky load of cum inside of you, as hard as his cock was twitching, he was so transfixed by how you felt around him. So fucking hot. So fucking soft. So fucking beautiful. Like a goddamn flower. Your pussy made him think of the most beautiful flower and nothing would ever change his mind about that. (And he would never figure out why - but he wondered if it had to do with the weird art in your living room).

♕ "Fuck, hana. Fuck!Fuck!Fuck! You want me to cum inside this pussy? Want me to cum in my pussy, huh? Yeah? Fuck, cumming so fuck- hard, holy shit. Fuck!" Hanma came with such force, you could feel his cum pouring into you. And soon after, seeping out of you from around his cock still inside of your stretched hole. He collapsed on top of you, both of you breathing heavily. He didn't want to move, not yet.

♕ And he felt like it should bother him that he was still here with you. Still, physically, a part of you, as much as you were a part of him. But he couldn't think of a single reason why he should leave. Let alone why he'd want to leave.

♕ "Shu, you ... I ... well," you tried to speak but couldn't form a coherent thought just yet. "Um," it was useless. You couldn't think. So you just laid there underneath him. Feeling more and more empty with each passing second as the sadness of this being over filled you instead feeling full from Hanma. It was not a good placeholder for him. It was not feeling nearly as good as he did. And you felt like crying.

♕ Whether because it was just too much for you or it was just nothing to him. What if it were both? Shit. You're starting to cry.

♕ He felt you tremble underneath him and he rolled off of you, turning you over to face him.

♕ "Hey, what's wrong? Hana? Look at me, now. Did I hurt you? Did I do something?" He looked more concerned that irritated. And that's probably what surprised you the most. You tried to hide your face, but he grabbed your chin and pulled you back.

♕ "No, it's ... it's nothing. I just ... it was too much. You were too good." You said, laughing hard through the tears, wholly embarrassed by your generous assessment.

♕ "Oh, what now?" Hanma smiled and kissed you on the forehead. He reached down and grabbed your hand, bringing it to his mouth and kissing it. "You say I was too good? Were you even here? I mean ... I guess it's impossible for you to feel yourself. But, I guess ... I guess I'm only as good as who I'm with? And, hana," he cupped your face in his rough, slightly grease stained and scarred hand, "you were good, too."

♕ You laughed again, shaking your head. "Don't ... don't be nice to me. I can't handle it. And that's not even ... you don't have to say that to me. I know you don't like me. You can't fucking stand me. I knew all of this when I asked your captain to make you give me a ride. How embarrassing is that. I fucking am so pathetic sometimes." You rubbed your eyes with the heel of your palm. "God. You can go. You don't have to stay. It's alright. I'm ... I'll be ... fine. I always am."

♕ Hanma sat up on his elbow, looking down at you with his brow furrowed. "Hana. I can't believe you're this stupid." He rubbed the back of his neck and looked out into the hallway.

♕ "Shuji! Who the fuck is Hana? And why do you keep calling me that? My name is-" great, now you look sad and insane.

♕ "Chill, crazy. Hana means blossom. And I think, ffffuck. Ithinkyou'reprettylikeaflowerplusyourpussyispretty." His words ran together but you heard every single separate syllable. You're pretty sure you fell in love with him a little bit, too. The fucker.

♕ He leaned over you again, pressing his lips to yours. You moaned against his mouth and reached to grab his cock, but he stopped you. "No. I wanna make you feel good. It's your turn." He kissed your neck and made his way down to your pussy, licking up his own cum that had dripped out of you. You bucked your hips up into his face, reaching down to grab a fistful of his hair.

♕ He looked up at you with wide eyes, smirking. "Hold on, hana. I got you." He sucked your clit between his lips, pressing his tongue against it and making you cry out in pleasure. He pushed two fingers into your pussy and started pumping them in and out of you, hitting your g-spot while he circled your clit with the tip of his tongue.

♕ "Fuck, Shu! Fuck me!" You screamed.

♕ He looked up at you with his eyelids still heavy. "That's what I'm trying to do, baby." He said, chuckling. "Just this time, it's with my mouth. Ok? So sit back and enjoy the ride." He leaned back down and continued sucking and licking and pumping you until you couldn't hold on anymore. You came for him, all over his face. And he didn't seem to mind one bit.

♕ He crawled up to you and laid beside you again. You looked over at him and smiled. "You're such an asshole. But I kind of like you."

♕ He leaned over and kissed you, letting you taste yourself on him. Again. "No shit? I've liked you for a while. But I ... hell, I don't know. I guess I thought you were too good for me or something." He put his head against your chest, subconsciously counting the heartbeats coming from your body. "That's usually what people tell me. The guys and stuff. They always give me shit about anyone I like. Except ... except for you. They respect you."

♕ You nodded slowly, spacing out on the chunk of blond hair above his forehead. "Yeah, it helps having a cousin who's a captain. But Shuji, I do. I really do like you. I just wanted you to know that."

♕ Hanma looked up at you with a softness in his eyes you had never seen before. "I know, hana. I know." He kissed you again, pulling the sheet over both of you. He didn't want you to see him get worked up. Not over you. Not emotionally. Not just yet. But he was pretty sure he was starting to fall in love with you. And that was just something he wasn't prepared for. Though he'd have to face up to it. Sooner, rather than later, he thought.

♕ He turned over onto his back and let you snuggle up next to him, throwing your arm over his chest. He closed his eyes, thinking about how much he'd like to do this again. Just like this. Just you.

♕ You reached over and turned off the lamp, laying your head against his chest and simply being in the darkened room with him. It was so easy, you thought. And you hoped it would always be that way, though you knew better than to believe that. Because Hanma was a very complicated man on the outside and inside. And you wanted to be the one who could be there to understand him. The one who could get to know him. The one who could make him laugh and cry and feel any and everything he ever wanted to feel. You wanted to be the one who'd be there to listen to anything he had to say. Softly spoken or screamed out.

♕ And that's all you wanted. To be there for him. And with him. And with him.

♕ "Good night, little hana." He said, pulling you tighter against him.

♕ "Good night, beautiful Shuji." You smiled in the darkness and drifted off to sleep.

♕ And you didn't care how much you'd regret saying it or how much you'd try to deny it. It was true. You were in love with him. And you knew it would be some time before he could admit he felt the same way. But you would give him whatever amount of time he needed.

♕ He hoped he would be worth it. Hanma wasn't necessarily a good man. He has never been called a good man. Never has he ever really felt like one.

♕ But he heard you talking to him in the morning before you got out of bed to fix the coffee. Telling him how you'd be there for him as best you could. No matter what.

♕ He thought to himself that he hoped he'd never disappoint you. No matter what.

Taglist ::: @katkitkats @darkstarlight82 @arlerts-angel @viburnt @kazutora-kurokawa

[dootznbootz]

Odysseus was afraid the entire year on Aeaea in the Odyssey.

Content warnings: Rape, Sexual Coercion, Sexual assault, Sex Work, power dynamics, this will also be long as fuck as I talk too much. This is NOT a "Circe the Goddess Hate Post". I call her out but that's it. I tried to keep this neutral but still making a point (Let me know if I gotta put more)

Lots of lovely folks on here have written great essays on what Calypso did to Odysseus as it's soooo blatantly obvious there. It literally states how he cried every day and how he flinched from Calypso, very straightforward on how he was explicitly raped.

But I've noticed that a lot of people are always iffy about Circe's situation (understandably so, it's not so in your face.) She's usually always mentioned in the "Odysseus never cheated! He was raped!" posts but then the evidence is only ever given against Calypso, and then mentioning how you can't say no or disobey the orders of an immortal and how it was in exchange for freeing his men.

WHICH IS ALL CORRECT!!! But!!!

There ARE immortal/mortal couples who genuinely love each other. Dionysus and Ariadne, and Eros and Psyche are examples. Apollo and Hyacinthus. Psyche indeed becomes immortal eventually and in some versions, both Hyacinthus and Ariadne do too. But even while mortal themselves, their immortal lovers still remained respectful and loving towards them and definitely doted on them. There are definitely power dynamics at play here but there's some nuance.

Odysseus and Circe's relationship, however, is very different. We all know he slept with her at the very least once. And that was in exchange for his men being returned to humans. That was the only time it was explicitly stated. With Calypso, it tells you every night he was enchanted and slept beside her. It was the narrator speaking but Odysseus is the narrator now and it's his story. If you think he lied, this probably won't change your mind anyway.

But even if it was a one-time thing, (which isn't the only interpretation and I will have points that talk about others) then why did he stay a year? What was he doing?

I'm doing a deep dive into the year he spent on Aeaea based on evidence in Book 10 and then the beginning of Book 12. Step by step, and honestly I'm writing this for Tumblr, not as a thesis so I will be a bit more casual but still using sources. To me, it's very obvious that he was uncomfortable throughout the text simply based on the language that is used. But it's very subtle and not an outright statement of "He's been crying every day."

BTW, just so we're clear, this is not a "Circe is the root of all evil, etc." type of post.

This isn't meant to villainize her. She's an immortal being and in mythology that changes things. Everybody is morally gray. I genuinely think if we were to ask her feelings on it, she'd probably be like "Oh, yeah! Turned his men into pigs! Strange little man he was." I don't think she gave a flying fuck.

I just simply get pissed tf off when people think Odysseus was fine. It honestly disturbs me how often I'll go on other websites YouTube and see everyone call him a whore and a womanizer. It's sexism at its finest because 1.) "MaN AlwAyS wAnTs sEx" and 2.) women can't rape/coerce. THIS IS SIMPLY TO LOOK INTO HIS FEELINGS ABOUT IT.

This is also only for Homer's Odyssey, using different translations. If you want to discuss this, (I'd be happy to! Just be nice!) DON'T BRING UP ANY OTHER WORKS.

With all that out of the way, come yell with me 🤗

I've read multiple translations, as I know there's going to be bias depending on who's translating. And having done so, each one has basically the same situations described the same so that's nice for consistency. Also, there are some parts in the story that are vague and that we'll never have answers to.

Odysseus first simply sees the smoke from her chimney and then sends his men in, after drawing lots Eurylochus leads half of the men to check out the house. I mentioned here vaguely how the 2 immortals he sleeps with are both introduced while singing and weaving, which could be seen as an enchantment (which to me is most likely. They both possess magic and are goddesses). So I'm just gonna move past that. Just take a peek and come back or just know that enchantment was likely.

Next, I'll see people often joke on Tumblr about how

"Odysseus says that Polites is his best friend yet only mentions him once!"

I think Odysseus mentions his best friend, the one to jubilantly go in first, to show WHY he would go through with this. How much these comrades mean to him. That's his best friend, and there are approximately 20 others who are now pigs as well. Could you knowingly leave one of your best friends to live a life like that knowing you could've done something?

[...]Circe—and deep inside they heard her singing, lifting her spellbinding voice as she glided back and forth at her great immortal loom, her enchanting web a shimmering glory only goddesses can weave. Polites, captain of armies, took command, the closest, most devoted man I had: ‘Friends, there’s someone inside, plying a great loom, and how she sings—enthralling! The whole house is echoing to her song. Goddess or woman—let’s call out to her now!’ So he urged and the men called out and hailed her. She opened her gleaming doors at once and stepped forth, inviting them all in, and in they went, all innocence.

(Fagles, Book 10)

In the Odyssey, it's never mentioned why she turns people into animals. I think they were turned into pigs because, throughout the Iliad and Odyssey, Odysseus is often associated with boars. His men are associated with him, therefore: 🐖 Piggy. From what we know, the lads were just eating her food. With how much Xenia and hospitality are a large part of the story, they probably thought they were safe. They were GUESTS. This is especially welcome after the Cyclops and the Laestrygonians. And it literally says "All innocence". They were simply naive.

Then Eurylochus runs back, so terrified that he couldn't speak at first. He then begs Odysseus to just leave the men behind. Odysseus has shown that he does TRY to save his men when it is truly not reckless to do so.

But I shot back, ‘Eurylochus, stay right here, eating, drinking, safe by the black ship. I must be off. Necessity drives me on.’

(Fagles, Book 10)

Then the famous warning from Hermes. I've seen folks bring this up when talking about this. YES, he is literally commanded by Hermes to not refuse her if he wants his men back in basically every translation. It sounds like Circe was warned as well. When? We don't know, but it sounds like Hermes didn't pick "sides" here.

Strange that he was still like, "Sleep with each other" to both, because he could've been like, "Circe, there's this guy named Odysseus. When he comes to this island, change his men back." But who knows, maybe it was Circe's idea from the beginning and Hermes went along with it. Just food for thought.

Now here’s your plan of action, step by step. The moment Circe strikes with her long thin wand, you draw your sharp sword sheathed at your hip and rush her fast as if to run her through! She’ll cower in fear and coax you to her bed— but don’t refuse the goddess’ bed, not then, not if she’s to release your friends and treat you well yourself. But have her swear the binding oath of the blessed gods she’ll never plot some new intrigue to harm you, once you lie there naked— never unman you, strip away your courage!’

(Fagles, Book 10)

But that doesn't explain why he was there for a year afterward! Nor if he himself was okay with it, which is what I'm trying to delve into as he wasn't.

Also the knife thing? She's still immortal. It was meant to startle her. Her dad is Helios. Odysseus would've been toast, literally.

Also note this exchange wasn't a "Yippee! Hermes says I'm going to get laid!".

...just approaching the halls of Circe, my heart a heaving storm at every step, paused at her doors, the nymph with lovely braids— I stood and shouted to her there. She heard my voice, she opened the gleaming doors at once and stepped forth, inviting me in, and in I went, all anguish now …

(Fagles, Book 10)

Another translation by Ian Johnston, (they all say the same thing essentially but trying to make a point.)

I continued on to Circe’s home. As I moved on, my heart was turning over many gloomy thoughts. After I had walked up to the gateway                                                of fair-haired Circe’s house, I just stood there and gave a shout. The goddess heard my voice.                      She came out at once, opened her bright doors, and invited me inside. I entered, heart full of misgivings.

HE👏WAS👏SCARED! The tone is solemn and suspenseful. He was just told that without Hermes' help with the root, he wouldn't be able to survive and bring back his men. Circe was dangerous.

He made her swear not to harm him.

Straightaway she began to swear the oath that I required—never, she’d never do me harm—and when she’d finished, then, at last, I mounted Circe’s gorgeous bed …

(Fagles, Book 10)

Please note that she NEVER promised that to his men. His comrades did NOT have moli in their systems. He had no way of truly ensuring their safety in any way from Circe.

He then refuses to eat or speak, literally "lost in grim forebodings". If he "just got laid", then why isn't he happy? Not many men can say that a goddess CHOSE to have sex with them. He did it to get his men turned back. It was an exchange. I don't think Circe is "Evil" so maybe it slipped her mind. Or yes, she could've thought, "Hey, I got what I wanted. He's handsome enough. Homer never shuts up about how hot this guy is He hasn't brought up the pigs yet. I'll just let this play out. Maybe HE forgot. I don't have to do anything." We don't know. But Odysseus probably felt like he got deceived.

"Hey, I did my part of the deal. I slept with you. Now do yours."

She pressed me to eat. I had no taste for food. I just sat there, mind wandering, far away … lost in grim forebodings. As soon as Circe saw me, huddled, not touching my food, immersed in sorrow, she sidled near with a coaxing, winged word: ‘Odysseus, why just sit there, struck dumb, eating your heart out, not touching food or drink? Suspect me of still more treachery? Nothing to fear. Haven’t I just sworn my solemn, binding oath?’

So she asked, but I protested, ‘Circe— how could any man in his right mind endure the taste of food and drink before he’d freed his comrades-in-arms and looked them in the eyes? If you, you really want me to eat and drink, set them free, all my beloved comrades— let me feast my eyes.’ So I demanded.

(Fagles, Book 10)

He doesn't trust her despite what she had told him that he should when they sleep together. He has figured out that while she will not hurt him, his men were not a part of that oath, the men he was trying to protect in the first place.

She is then moved by how they rejoice when they see one another again. While turning people into animals for funsies isn't cool and coercion is fucked up, I think she comes to see this group as not quite friends but I think she did find them entertaining in a way.

This is very strange but I've seen some folks say that since Odysseus was pissed at Eurylochus for still not believing him about Circe is proof that "Oh he was trying to defend her!". Which??? Uh, Eurylochus was literally questioning his leadership as a whole. Calling him reckless and shit. He is captain and he's the King, he can't let that shit slide. The text literally says "Mutinous". Also if I had to sleep with someone I did not want to especially if it was to save my friends and I got called names afterward I'd get fucking pissed too.

Only Eurylochus tried to hold my shipmates back, his mutinous outburst aimed at one and all: ‘Poor fools, where are we running now? Why are we tempting fate?— why stumble blindly down to Circe’s halls? She’ll turn us all into pigs or wolves or lions made to guard that palace of hers—by force, I tell you— just as the Cyclops trapped our comrades in his lair with hotheaded Odysseus right beside them all— thanks to this man’s rashness they died too!

They stay a year. Again it's never stated that Odysseus slept with her that whole time. You could interpret that. (Honestly, I feel Circe would get bored with him? She's a goddess, she's got more important matters than mortal men. And she definitely doesn't love him.)

His men DO have to bring it up that "Odysseus has forgotten his native land." Maybe they thought they could sneak out without her knowing??? I am fucking REACHING but hold on as Telemachus did because he knew Nestor would well, be Nestor and try to coax him with "Have a meal with us! Let me tell you about how badass I used to be in my youth." But to sneak away from a goddess? Without her permission? That won't end too well. Aeolus in the beginning kicked out Odysseus when he tried to ask for another bag of wind. If she didn't want him around, she could literally boot him out. While she didn't force him to stay like Calypso did, she didn't "release" him either.

We don't know if they've been asking for a long time. Odysseus does say to Circe that they have been begging him nonstop, but he could also be saying that to try and convince her. He's good at persuasion. I think while he knew he could rely on her for food, shelter, and good advice, he still didn't feel...SAFE with her. I think he was possibly avoiding her personally.

I think HOW he asks her to leave is important to know as well.

...but I went up to that luxurious bed of Circe’s, hugged her by the knees and the goddess heard my winging supplication: ‘Circe, now make good a promise you gave me once— it’s time to help me home. My heart longs to be home, my comrades’ hearts as well. They wear me down, pleading with me whenever you’re away.’

(Fagles, Book 10)

Throughout all of Homer's works, the characters grasp another's knees when they are desperate and are literally at the other person's mercy. Priam did when begging Achilles for Hector's body back. The man who literally killed his son and was defiling his body by dragging it around. Leodes grabs Odysseus' knees to beg for his life before Ody kills him. If he saw her as a friend, and not a captor, WHY DID HE FEEL THE NEED TO BEG IN ORDER TO LEAVE?! No one, who is in a healthy relationship, has to BEG for permission to leave. Or to "Break up", if you interpret them as still sleeping together.

And even Circe acknowledges that he is there against his will!

‘Royal son of Laertes, Odysseus, old campaigner, stay on no more in my house against your will.

(Fagles, Book 10)

[...]Odysseus, man of many resources, scion of Zeus, son of Laertes, don’t stay here a moment longer against your will

(A.S. Kline, Book 10)

This is probably another reach that you can ignore but the whole "they wear me down", could be trying to appease her. "Look, you're REALLY cool, it's actually my crew that wants to leave hahahah please don't kill them"

I mentioned before how Telemachus snuck away from Nestor but that was simply out of necessity because he needed to go home now. Not rest for the night. NOW. Nestor is just everyone's grandpa. Menelaus kind of talked more but Telemachus is very straight up in "Please I have to go now" and Menelaus immediately got things ready for him. He never has to beg and clasp his knees. Telemachus was never afraid. Menelaus is a fun uncle and Helen is your cool auntie.

Back to Circe! She tells him instructions for the underworld, they were in her bedroom. But that might've been the only way to speak with her. As even Penelope is usually away from the suitors when they are in her halls, Circe may have done the same. The text never states she played hostess physically. If she was hosting in the halls during the day, why did Odysseus wait until night to talk to her? He could've just asked her while she was on her throne in front of everyone. (He did so with the Phaeacians)

Or maybe he went alone because she only swore an oath to not harm him and so he didn't want his men near if she decided she didn't want to let them go. I could be missing something here so feel free to say something. Idk if this was a pride thing on how "I don't want others to see me beg".

She has info he needs in order to go home as well. She tells him to go to the Underworld.

She gave him new fine clothes and put on pretty clothes herself but that doesn't mean they had sex. Nausicaa gave him nice clothes as well but he never slept with her.

Then he leaves. Immediately. Not even doing a headcount as he didn't realize one of his men had died. (That was negligence on his part but he wanted out) He booked it, to the UNDERWORLD BY THE WAY. Circe even had to sneak the animals he needed for the sacrifice. Odysseus even basically said "She's a goddess. She can do things mortals can't" at the end of the book. And it almost feels...Numb? Solemn? Neutral? Gives a "It is what it is" vibe.

But Circe got to the dark hull before us, tethered a ram and black ewe close by— slipping past unseen. Who can glimpse a god who wants to be invisible gliding here and there?

(Fagles, Book 10)

She’d slipped past us with ease, for who can see a god move back and forth, if she has no desire to be observed?

(Johnston, Book 10)

She's a goddess. She has magic. She can do whatever the fuck she wants.

NOW ON TO BOOK 12!!! That was long! GET A SNACK AND WATER! LUCKILY THIS'LL BE SHORTER!

In Book 11, Odysseus swears, upon all his loved ones in Ithaca, to Elpenor that he'd give him a proper burial as he's been "unwept, unburied". So in Book 12, he sails back to Aeaea to fulfill his promise.

But you know what's funny to me?

He didn't tell Circe he was there.

He didn't even go to greet Circe himself. He sent his men to go get Elpenor's body.

The biggest clue that he didn't love/trust her is that if she was his "Affair partner" then why not go see her for "one last night together"?

SHE came out herself and pulled him aside to know what happened and then gave more advice.

I dispatched some men to Circe’s halls to bring the dead Elpenor’s body. [...]

Nor did our coming back from Death escape Circe— she hurried toward us, decked in rich regalia, handmaids following close with trays of bread and meats galore and glinting ruddy wine. [...]

But Circe, taking me by the hand, drew me away from all my shipmates there and sat me down and lying beside me probed me for details

(Fagles, Book 12)

In every translation, it talks about how he sits, and she lounges/lies down. That's not sex 🙃 In some translations, it even says he tried to be with his shipmates but she pulled him away!

So we lay down and slept beside our ship’s stern cables. But Circe took me by the hand and led me away, some distance from the crew. She made me sit, while she stretched out beside me on the ground. 

(Johnston, Book 12)

Then, she gives advice about the sirens, Charybdis, Scylla, and her father's Cattle. He tries to ask if he could save all his men. She scolds him for even thinking he could try. He again books it out of there.

I think we all know it wasn't "love". But I think a lot of people think Odysseus was willing and happy with whatever this was. "Friends with Benefits", if you will. I guess you could see it that way but I will say that makes me feel itchy with the whole power dynamic and fear. I don't think folks who have that arrangement have to beg on their knees to ask if they can leave though.

I mean the entirety of Book 10 gives me the vibes of "Laughing uncomfortably because you don't want to upset the other person". To just grin and bear it.

A lot of this was just putting the text here and picking it apart step by step. What you do with this is up to you. It's rambling while banging pots and pans together.

Maybe you see him as drugged the entire year and still sleeping together, as the moli "wore off". Even then, just because her magic can't affect him, there are plenty of natural concoctions that can be created that can affect mortals.

Maybe you see the entire year as sex work in exchange for shelter and food.

Maybe he was just alongside his men the whole time under her roof and was avoiding her after the exchange. After he got asked by his men to finally leave, he would start to walk up to that room only to freeze and turn around, thinking "One more day won't hurt. Should wait until I know she's in a sympathetic mood".

I beg of you, however, PLEASE understand that there was fear and coercion throughout his entirety on Aeaea. He wasn't staying to get laid. While there is so much going on and too many things that are left vague to really know exactly what happened, it is consistent that he was scared/numb. Lots of people go through with things they don't really want to do just to appease others. There are plenty of situations of sexual trauma where one person goes through something and the other has no idea the other person isn't okay. ESPECIALLY WHEN SOMEONE CAN HARM THE PEOPLE YOU CARE ABOUT AT ANY MOMENT!

Sexual trauma is a very complicated thing and while he was scared, he definitely wasn't as traumatized by her as he was by Calypso. Calypso was a torturous hell while Circe was a year of walking on eggshells. Not comparable but I still think it should be acknowledged. It's wild because I read the Odyssey and kept thinking "Y'all are calling the sex slave a cheater? The guy who slept with a goddess to get his men back? The ultimate simp apparently doesn't love his wife??"

Things I'm adding that shouldn't affect the argument as it is not in the Odyssey but I want to mention as it's a "fun fact": Odysseus' dad was an Argonaut. Laertes probably met Circe as well, (or knew of her) with the whole purifying thing and maybe Odysseus heard his dad tell stories of her. Later myths also have Circe with the habit of turning her crushes (or their lovers) into something with Scylla and Picus.

In conclusion, Yeah, he was afraid of her. At least to an extent. And don't pull the whole "Ancient men didn't get raped". Male victims exist and deserve compassion for what was done to them and women are capable of sexual abuse. If you think otherwise, you are not a true feminist and Fuck you. I said in the beginning this'll be casual and I don't wanna write a fancy ending. You can still think Circe is neat but you have to know that this was fucked up.

If you think a lot of this is bullshit or wanna give more context or wish to yell with me but still know he wasn't alright on Aeaea, cool. If you want to point out mistakes or something I should keep in mind with interpretations then feel free to say so but give text evidence. If you try and bring up the Telegony and/or Madeline Miller's Circe, fuck clean off. This is Homer. If you call Odysseus a whore and not the malewife he canonically is I'll start biting. 😤

[crymzin-gutz]

Paranormal Investigators Club members interactions with Tobi. -Headcanons-

Tobi belongs to @heartfullofleeches . Go check out their blog, I can't not recommend their stuff. Their characters are amazing and I absolutely love them!

'Ello. This is my first time using Tumblr to post anything, so apologies if the formatting or anything is off. I don't really know what I'm doing. ^^; Anyways- heartfullofleeches' OC, Tobi, has been infecting my brain for the longest of time. Especially the thought of them interacting with my own group of ghost hunter OCs; Alice, Maxwell, Charlie, and Albert. So, with their permission, Imma be posting some headcanons I've come up for them. I might also post a short fanfic or two about this concept as well, but first I'd have to come up with what it'd be about. So that might be a thing, might not. Anyways- headcanons are below. ^^

-The Paranormal Investigator Club (P.I.C) members probably first meet Tobi one of two ways- either Charlie 'forces' Tobi to join their club when seeing this man, who looked as if they were lost, wandering the halls. Or, Tobi kinda just...materializes within the P.I club room one day. And Maxwell and Charlie just assume he's meant to be there. Congregates Tobs, you're apart of P.I.C now.

-Unlike Charlie, and -somewhat- Maxwell, Alice and Albert are both a bit more wary of the unexpected new member. Especially since Alice and Albert can tell that Tobi isn't human. :|

-Alice and Albert are both Unrested Souls. -(Technically, Alice -and possibly Albert?- is classified as a Sleepwalking Soul and not as an Unrested Soul. But for convince, and not having to drop a bunch of lore and world stuff that you guys didn't ask for onto you guys, we'll just be classifying them both as Unrested Souls for this.) Because of this, the two are able to sense that Tobi isn't human. Tobi is probably able to tell that Alice and Albert aren't 'human' either. Or atleast, that they aren't living humans.

-Alice and Albert both have the same unnerved, fight-or-flight response to Tobi, at first. The type of being that Tobi is, is defiantly a predator to both of them. With them -Tobi- eating ghosts for lunch and all.

-Tobi's secret about not being human doesn't stay a secret for long. Maybe, at most, a month or two. As stated prior, Alice and Albert immediately know that something is off, and it doesn't take them long to figure out that they aren't human. And, while it may take Max and Charlie a bit longer -if Tobi insists that Alice doesn't tell them-, once the two accidentally come across him eating a ghost....yeah...it's fine though. They got pretty accustomed to paranormal beings being real pretty quickly after meeting Alice.

-Charlie constantly asks Tobi to describe what ghost's, or whatever type of Unrested Soul he ate, tastes like. They -Tobi- gets a full on questionnaire after he eats. Sobs.

-There has been a few times that Charlie has started asking Tobi questions about how they taste, while he was in the middle of eating. Like full on, he'd be mid-bite and Charlie will just plop down next to him and be like, "How would you describe your meal tonight?"

-Max is hard of hearing. And wears a hearing-aid to help him hear. However- there are times that he either can't wear them -they died or he lost them-, or he simply wants a break from them. Because of this, his friends have come up with a list of other ways for them to communicate with Max without having to verbally speak. I'm bringing this up because, I imagine that as soon as it is noticed that Tobi can't, or just doesn't want to (because of the whole human's cant hear them speak without passing out), Charlie just shows him the list. And asks them what will work the best for him.

-If Tobi wants to learn sign langue, Maxwell would more than happy to teach them and help him learn.

-I don't know if Tobi has a place of his own. But if he doesn't, and at-least in this context, I can see him moving in with Albert and Max in their shared apartment. The three have such strong roommate vibes in my head. I don't know. They just do. (They defiantly also have strong bromance chemistry. Jk jk....unless...)

-Frenemies dynamic between Tobi and Albert. One-sided or not, these two freaks -(/pos)- have the gayest frenemies dynamic known to man. The type to want to kill each other, but also wanting the other one to be alive so that they can see them achieve their dreams and what not.

-They, Tobi and Albert, have gotten drunk -(can Tobi get drunk???)- and ended up waking up the next morning sharing the couch. They make a deal as to not speak about it. Whatever happened -it was nothing, they just were both too drunk to make it to their individual beds- will be token to their graves.

-Albert and Tobi fight over the title of 'cameraman'. They either end up sharing the role, or they have split custody like a couple of divorced parents.

Albert: It's my turn with our child.

Tobi: *'Stares' at Albert before turning their back to him. Still holding the camera in his hands.*

Albert: ??? What do you mean no, dude?! Gimme the fucking camera!

Tobi: *Holding his hand out of Albert's reach. Using his other hand to push Albert back, his hand pushing against Albert's forehead.* >:|

Albert: Don't make me get Max!

Tobi: *Reluctantly, and clearly not wanting to, gives Albert the camera.* >:(

-They probably don't mean to, but Tobi causes disturbances to Max's hearing-aid. Low buzzing, or painful high pitched beeping if Tobi is loosing control of himself.

-Max gets the worse of Tobi's effects on humans; headaches, nosebleeds, getting dizzy and almost blacking out, ect.

-Alice occasionally lets Tobi tag along with them on their jobs. If she is especially drained from non-stop work, or just can't be bothered to properly exercise an Unrested Soul she just lets Tobi eat it. It's like a lil' treat for him. :3 And it's less work that Alice has to do. So it's a win-win.

-Charlie is very big on physical contact. It's a major love langue of theirs. So, Tobi is gonna have to adapt to it. Charlie will respect his boundaries...to an extent. But she is also the type to try and push his friends boundaries if she thinks it won't necessarily bring any harm to them. So they may be slightly less affectionate with Tobi, she will try to get him to be more comfortable with her.

-Once, and if, Tobi gets more comfortable with Charlie, they are climbing them like a tree. That or pulling them down to her height with a side-arm hug around their shoulders. Charlie gives out bear hugs. And sadly, she doesn't know how not to rough house a bit while giving affection.

-Charlie tried taking Tobi’s hat once. They woke up a bit later from a nap they don’t remember taking. Alice informs them of how uncomfortable he had made Tobi, and immediately Charlie felt bad about it. They apologize as soon as they see him the next day.

-They all have movie nights once a month. Tobi is put in charge of choosing the film...that was until he had them watch a cursed movie -forgetting that Max and Charlie are still affected by curses-. Tobi was put in time-out while Alice took care of the ghost. Tobi is now in charge of making sure the couch is comfy enough. -He's not trusted with preparing the snacks either.-

[dapg-otmebytheballs]

Tumblr Phandom Meet-up Alert!

I've been talking to others about making a little event out of the Dab-Evan wedding and @ahappyphjl was kind enough to reach out and tell me about phandom meetups!

What it is: This will be a purely online event for us to share in this community on the day that the Devan wedding video is out. Phandom members can share their outfits (even without the faces for anyone uncomfortable with that!), art about the wedding, what snacks they're having, their live reactions and thoughts about the video, gifs, and more!

We'll keep it going for 48 hours and at the end of it we can compile some of the stuff together, kind of like a wedding album to share around! [Note: this will be a digital compilation and no posts will be used without the op's consent]

How to participate: Use the tag '#Devan Wedding Meetup' and 'Phandom Meetup' to post your selfies, outfits, gifs, art, and commentary. You can post anything you feel like at all under the tag, don't sweat it too much! Click on the tag to check out what others are posting too and remember to leave comments and reblogs as much as you can, this is more than anything a chance for us to get to know each other, make friends, and spread the festive cheer 💍🥰🎊

Dan mentioned putting out a tweet to announce it so we are expecting at least a little bit of a heads up, but we can prepare for it in advance and be ready to go when it does drop. Plan out how you'd want to celebrate and share in the joy of community! We're seeing a lot of returning fans and new fans so let's make this a welcoming and actively engaging space once more 🥂

See you all at the wedding 😉