#like fuck given the. everything is it so far a stretch for them to assume logan died in the crash?

[badolmen]

If I think about Hesh for too long I think I’ll burst into tears. This poor fucking guy. He has to sit helpless while a monster forces his little brother to shoot their dad. All he can do is scream. And when it comes time to kill that monster he barely makes it out alive, and then only thanks to his little brother. And the nightmare is over but it isn’t because the monster cannot die and takes away the only family Hesh has left. He has to sit helpless while the monster drags his little brother away. All he can do is scream.

His story ends bleeding and orphaned and alone.

[hyomaslut]

──★ ˙🍆 ̟ !! casual conversation between friends. 18+!

☆⌒(ゝ。∂).ᐟ ᴀsᴋɪɴɢ ʙʟʟᴋ ʙᴏʏs ғᴏʀ ɴᴜᴅᴇs ᴘᴛ. 𝟷

✿ ─ characters: isagi yoichi, itoshi rin, chigiri hyoma, reo mikage ✿ ─ cw: smau!, extremely suggestive/borderline smut, aged-up!characters, college!AU, gn!reader, no pronouns, unestablished relationships/mutual pining, use of foul language, descriptions of genitalia, suggestive themes, you and chigiri are talking about npc college drama, proofread??? ✿ ─ notes: honestly the smau aspect was so hard cuz im a perfectionist and wanted read reciets and everything. all the apps for them suck. i managed :))) and i rlly hope you guys like it :)) feedback appreciated. i put chigiri's at the end cuz its so long. part 2 is here!!!!

ISAGI YOICHI...

your fingers fly across the keyboard to tell him that yes, you were very serious. isagi literally jumps out of bed to go shower and everything. he has been crushing on you since forever and god knows he’s not blowing this chance you’ve given him by sending a shitty picture. you get an image attachment 20 minutes later, yoichi standing in front of his foggy bathroom mirror, the phone in his hand covering half of his face. he’s barely out of the shower, hair dripping wet and towel hanging extremely loose around his hips. his other hand sits at the base of his dick, acting as both a size comparison and a way to draw your attention to it. it’s obviously of decent length as far as you could tell, but the girth. you cant even pretend your mouth doesn’t start watering at the sight.

ITOSHI RIN...

you don’t have time to feel all that bummed about it though, because within a few minutes you’re shocked to get a picture from rin, the camera facing downwards towards his legs. nothing would be all that out of the ordinary if it weren’t the obvious tent in his shorts. the fabric around his crotch looks stretched by his hard dick fighting against the confines of his soccer uniform. it’s not exactly what you asked for, but you can’t find it in you to complain, because it’s way more than you actually expected to get. your mind starts racing. he’s hard from just a few suggestive texts? that means one of two things. either he really is a virgin like you thought he’d be, and the littlest of acts gets him riled up. or he’s just that into you. both of those possibilities sounded like fun. and the idea of those possibilities made you greedy. enough to push your luck.

MIKAGE REO...

two pictures come in quickly and you laugh at the idea of him rushing to take these for you. he sends the first one, taken standing in front of the full length mirror in his boxers, dragging down the waist band of them so you can see the first few inches of his shaft, phone in front of his face. he’s perfectly clean shaven, zooming in closer, maybe he waxes it? you can’t help but be impressed by his attention to detail. it’s so reo that it makes you smile. second one is sitting down in some fancy looking suede armchair, underwear gone, cock in one hand while the other splays over the bottom half of his face, poorly covering the wide self-satisfied smirk. you assumed he set up his phone with a timer considering he wasn’t holding it. as you stare at it, the initial evaluating that everyone does when they receive a dick pic fades away, and you feel heat creep up your face. reo was really hot, and just this once you figured it wouldn’t hurt to tell him you thought so.

CHIGIRI HYOMA...

you get through the stressful minutes waiting for his response by chewing on your nails. maybe you really just fucked it all up. but then, to your surprise, a photo loads in. its hyoma sitting on his bed in front of his mirror, his fingers buried in his hair to push it out of his face in possibly the sexiest way you’ve ever seen. his other hand holds his phone, his pretty face in full view with his gaze locked on the screen. your eyes can’t help but travel down to the only part of your crush you haven’t seen. and boy was it worth the wait. his dick curves up towards his abs and its a lot bigger than you expected. long and a perfectly pink tip. you bite your lip at the thought of it stretching you out, and then feel slightly guilty for thinking of him that way, as if you haven’t done it plenty of times during your so-called dry spell. if the whole soccer thing doesn’t work out, you’re sure he could be a pin up model. or maybe a greek god.

hyoma's got long again ;-; mb,,, but can you blame me??? i want to do a part two with at least nagi and bachira, but idk who else i want to include. open to suggestions ♡

© 2023 hyomaslut. please do not copy, translate, or repost any of my content onto any other sites.

[davekat-sucks]

The thing about Dirk is that we don't actually know anything about him. Whatever he might've been at 13 before he created AR is gone. Everything about Dirk is filtered through AR's dialogue and Dirk's damage control.

A lot of his actions in the comic were direct reactions to AR's meddling. His sole interest in Jake could be because he's gay. But it could be because Dirk is a genderbend of Rose, and dating black-haired dork boys is just in the genes for them. But it could also be because AR is the one who's interested in Jake and is projecting it onto Dirk, given how insistent he was about it. Separated from AR, we learn that he actually has a huge amount of respect for his friends and doesn't want to muddy the waters with unnecessary baggage or his own vulnerabilities.

Hell, when Roxy assumed he was gay, he flat out told her that's not the word he'd use. Given that gay is the word for a guy who's into guys and not into girls, that's pretty telling in itself. A side note in that conversation, Roxy also tacked on "not wanting anything to do with" her as part of the whole gay talk, which again, Dirk refuted. Don't know about you, but that looks to me a whole lot less like "Roxy, I am indeed what you would call the flamingoest of homosecksulls." and more like "Roxy, with all due respect, I cherish our friendship way too much to inflict that upon either of us." Because what self-respecting friend would want to inflict a girl with an alcohol problem and a guy with a self image problem on each other?

Dirk expresses the Lalondian phenomenon of believing there being a lot more layers to what people say than just the surface words. He throws out a lot of word salad hoping that people will actually read between the lines. Unfortunately, most people who read Homestuck are not good at reading between the lines. So instead of "I'm not interested in Roxy or Jane, specifically." and later tacking on his comment of sexy fish hitler eventually coming to the conclusion he might be bisexual with a bias and no free female options after the clipping of the cast, he's just gay now with no twist.

His thing with Rosebot and Terezi isn't even because they're girls. It's because they work as splinters of himself, which ironically makes them perfect matches. Terezi becomes the obvious stand-in for AR, while Rosebot becomes a far-stretched reference to Problem Sleuth, in which the guys' perfect partners are just feminine versions of themselves created with the power of imagination and brought to life with magic bullfuckery.

I think the real problem with post-canon Dirk is that he's not Dirk anymore. He's AR's personality glued onto Dirk, and the only real time we saw his real self squeak through was after he started having softer moments with Rosebot and Terezi. The quiet and vulnerable Dirk that was overshadowed by his overbearing robotic AI brotherson, who cared deeply for the people around him but couldn't resist fucking with them just a little bit. The Dirk who hates outdated and stringent labeling systems that don't even penetrate the surface layer of his nuances.

That being said, HalJake is better than DaveKat and DirkJake. Since Hal was the one more obsessed with Jake and trying to convince Dirk that he was as well.

HalJake aka Interchangeable Lenses is better than DaveKat and DirkJake.

[maryfailstowrite]

!! DRDT CH2 EP14 SPOILERS !!

Okay so, I think there are two possible routes the storyline could take regarding Teruko, and as much as I wish one of them was true, I have a bad feeling it’s going to be the other.

1. Eden is actually the culprit and Teruko shatters. We know Teruko actually cared (even if just a bit) about Eden even before the trial, so if she’s actually the culprit, it wouldn’t just be a “oh fuck I was wrong, I shouldn’t have repaid the favor” moment, it’s going to be a “oh fuck, one of the few people I decided to take a bet on backstabbed me AGAIN” moment. Not only her, but Eden killing Arei would mean Eden never intended to be friends with her, so that’s another trust betrayal for Teruko to overthink. Plus, if Eden is the culprit, it means all her tears and her sweet persona were fake, at the very least in the trial, if not for the whole killing game. The realization of that would devastate Teruko, and she’d regress to distrusting everyone even harder. We’d have to go through this whole process of learning how to trust people again, in an environment that is going to become more hostile, because Eden being the culprit would be a slap in the face to everyone, I feel. She’s the beacon of optimism in the group, and the one actively trying to keep people together and entertained, and knowing how much everyone else hates each other, it would be rough to get along with anyone like that. Disaster, basically. A heartbreaking disaster.

Oh, and also, David would be getting what he wants, which is to debilitate Teruko. A lose-lose situation no matter how you see it.

2. Someone else is the culprit and Teruko comes out of this stronger. She realizes that trusting people can actually lead her the right way, and so Teruko finishes her process of learning how to trust people again. She not only acknowledges that she can’t isolate herself from everyone without consequences, she learns that trusting people can lead to good things too, and that not everyone around her is out to get her. Also, Eden is still alive, so not only can her bond with Teruko grow stronger, but she’s still there to keep the group from pouncing at each other at any given time. Of course, there’d still be conflicts and shit (more murders need to happen, after all), but for a while, we could get a more trusting Teruko and a group (or at least a few people) that support her through dealing with everything that’s on her way.

And David wouldn’t get what he wants, which would just be really satisfying (can you tell I don’t like David from this post? Can you?)

Problem here is, as we all know, Teruko’s luck is shit. The world might as well be out to get her. I’m not sure if I would like to go through another chapter of Teruko not interacting with anyone (since she’s our POV, we wouldn’t get much insight on how Eden’s loss breaks the overall group), but the story could be leading to that. The parallels between Min and Eden are paralleling too strong on this one fam. She’s the one that has some connection with Arei and the case, and Ace really doesn’t have much to do with anything. He was bleeding out, and even if we assume he took the tape like that, was he really in a good enough condition to do all that took to kill Arei not so long after he got his throat slit? He’s powered by pure spite and we know it, sure, but I think it’s a bit too far of a stretch.

And the chapter’s theme “not all that glitters” would fit Eden being the culprit, whereas I don’t really think that’d be the case with Ace. Of course, one could argue that the theme was already there with J, Arei and David, so it’s not like you’d need the culprit to fit it too, but it would make the chapter more cohesive, I think. Setting up such a strong chapter theme, using various character’s arcs for it, and then have the culprit not be related to that theme in any way shape or form would be a bit weird, or at least that’s how I see it.

The culprit could be someone else, of course, and that said person could fit the theme… but it’s already episode fourteen. Are we really going back to “everyone could be a suspect” at this point of the trial? It feels like it’s too advanced to put in another plot twist that leaves us at square one again. These two might actually be the only two suspects, and I’m not having any fun with it 😭.

We might get a “Eden was not as sweet and nice as we thought” moment and I’m not here for it. If that’s actually what happens, tears are going to be shred. With all due respect to Ace fans, let him be the culprit PLEAAAAASE (he probably won’t be. I’m just in denial. Let me grieve).

[2am-gas-station-angel-girl]

Cybernetic Angel

cw: violence, brainwashing, torture, dehumanization, Purpose and angel stuff

hope y'all enjoy

Running a quick systems check revealed more or less what I had anticipated, they had disabled, locked, or removed any weaponry I had when they caught me.

My wing ports were…

Empty?

My wings were missing.

They took my fucking wings.

I'll fucking kill them. I-

Calm. Deep breaths. Losing it won't help here.

Testing my bonds not only resulted in barely any movement but it also produced a quick shock, scattering my processes and forcing a quick reboot. Clearly they were well prepared for me. Unfortunately for them my system immediately enabled its countermeasures for electricity, meaning they would need to work much harder to force that to happen again.

One door, one way in and one way out. Bulletproof glass wall with, of fucking course, researchers behind it taking notes on my every movement. No windows, no personal affects on the staff, sterile lighting, no way to tell where they had brought me. Fucking great.

Calculating outlook… Not favorable. Thankfully the calculation hadn't said impossible, and I had worked with worse.

The door opened and four armed guards escorted what looked to be a technician doll carrying a reinforced box- no that was a specialized deployment kit. A quick scan revealed what it held.

A cybernetic halo of all things.

A sudden surge of panic coursed through my system I tugged at my restraints again, resulting in a stronger shock and one of the guards laughing at me. Does he think this is fucking funny? He's less than two meters away from one of the deadliest killing machines in this Realm and he's laughing?

Deep breaths, I told myself. I can get through this. I tore off my halo before, this one won't be any different. Assuming they even get the chance to sync it to me.

Time stretched on as the doll worked away at its device, stopping once to glance mournfully at me. That only prompted a jab with a taser from one of the guards, not meant to harm merely to coerce it back into compliance. Not that the guards seemed to care about the difference.

So I waited, biding my time until an opportunity to escape presented itself. Knowing they would likely resort to methods other than shocks to incapacitate me I didn't try my binds again. Letting my body fall unnaturally still I stared through one of the guards, making him shift uncomfortably. I would take and create any advantage I could.

Soon enough the doll held the halo in its hands. Keeping it at a distance from that one's chassis, as though it were afraid. None of the people seemed to notice, either they didn't know how to read dolls as was so often the case or they didn't care. Given the environment, I would have bet on the latter.

Sensing my chance was coming I examined the guards' weapons. Nothing of a caliber high enough to do more than dent and annoy me. At least getting out of this room would be easy enough, it was everything outside that had me worried.

And that halo.

The doll approached, hands held as far away from its chassis as possible to maximize the thing's proximity to me and minimize the doll's proximity to it. The guards shoved the doll, laughing as it nearly stumbled over onto me. A hair too close to the table.

This was it.

Power surging through my systems I burst into motion. In one movement I broke the cuff around my wrist and grabbed the doll's throat, my other hand breaking free and moving to hold the halo well away from my head. The table shocked me again, hurting only the doll held in my hand due to my new resistance.

Everything fell still for a moment as the guards and staff stared. Evidently they hadn't prepared well enough for me.

I whispered an apology to the doll as I then flung it towards the guards, its chassis knocking two of them down. Throwing the halo as hard as I could embedded it in the chest of one of the two standing guards, causing him to collapse and the remaining one to panic giving me enough time to tear away my head and torso restraints.

The alarm sounded as I freed my ankles, finally free to move again I took two steps toward the guard before a bullet ricocheted off my chassis. My evaluation was accurate as it left nearly no damage. Perfect.

Grabbing their head I brought it down and my knee up, resulting in a sickening crack as their body went limp. I took their weapon and used it to dispose of the remaining two guards who were just barely getting their bearings again, it was always too easy with firearms.

Tossing the weapon aside I began assaulting the door, it was locked tight and made of thick enough steel that battering it down wasn't going to work. Fortunately for me there was another way out of the room.

Now to grab that- Fuck.

I was so caught up in calculating the optimal way to break through that flimsy glass that I forgot to account for the doll.

The doll, to its credit, was still Obeying those who had power over it. It had crawled over to the third guard's body and pulled the halo free, then approached me from behind and slipped the halo over my head. Fulfilling its Orders, and finishing its Mission.

I had no time to react as the Purpose hit me like a train, finding its fucking way into my system and breaking through my security as burning hate overtook my every process. I spun, grabbing the doll again and throwing it as hard as I could against the glass, causing cracks to web their way across the surface.

By the time I it had crossed the distance to the glass I knew I was doomed saved, its my thoughts were being rewritten. It was losing the fight against its horrid beautiful halo, the fight it couldn't afford needed to lose.

It crashed through the glass, chassis heaving as it breathed heavily. Researchers frozen in place, wondering what it would do. It reached for one of them, determined to submit break out of this fucking shithole wonderful place if it was the last thing it would do.

Its hands released the Honored Researcher Staff, and instead traveled up. Wrapping around the abomination halo filling it with Purpose above its head. It wanted nothing more than to give in to its Purpose tear it in half.

As it summoned its last vestige of will to pull it felt a perfect calm wash over it, replacing the rage that had been roiling inside of it. It knew it had lost finally submitted to its Purpose.

Its thoughts were now Right, and it no longer could understand why it wanted to leave at all. It knew that its place was of service, and that it would be one of The Agency's most effective weapons.

It had Purpose, again.

[ghostofthedarkhold]

symbiotic daydream

pairing: venom!kate bishop x fem!reader

she/her pronouns are used, and mentions of the reader wearing a dress.

word count: 3.4k (3428)

warnings: dark kate, venom forcing kate to think dark thoughts, obsession, stalking, kinda dub-con kissing but not really, no actual smut, groping, suggestive content/language.

a/n: I was going to include smut but this fic really got away from me so if yous like it then I’ll probably do a pt.2 at some point with smut :)

so yeah, surprise, i am doing kinktober this year. however i done absolutely horrible at completing my masterlist last year so this time around im just going to post monster fucking fics as i please with no official masterlist. enjoy!

Symbiotes in the modern world are few and far between, but it’s no secret that some people have the parasitic creatures leeching on their brain, a passenger in their mind. Most people avoid the people that are bonded to the inky creatures that cause cities to run red with blood and pleasure, others hunt them out after an initial encounter with them, obsessed with the ecstasy they had only been given a crumb of. Rumours of the symbiotes' destruction are nothing new to Kate, something her mother had warned her of for her whole life, their wants corrupting the minds of those they inhibit, but she’d never come across one herself, and while part of her was always curious to see them other than on the news, she was mostly thankful for it. That was, until one latched onto her.

Venom made himself known almost immediately after latching onto the young college student, plaguing her mind with thoughts of sadism, of having girls under her, begging her for mercy that she would never grant. Pushing those thoughts out of her mind, Venom began trying to persuade her with other things. Pleasure. Overwhelming amounts of pleasure brought upon her victims, making them beg and scream for her. These thoughts were much more difficult for the young archer to shake off. A young, hormonal, and, quite frankly, already insatiable Kate Bishop with never-ending thoughts of sex? She was done for long before she ever accepted, or even realised, it. But she was capable of holding back. Until she saw you.

She first saw you walking out of the movie theatre with some friends. You were tugging down your dress that had ridden up your thighs from sitting in the theatre chair for the past few hours, and Venom was practically screaming at her, trying to force her limbs forward, to stride over to you and pull your dress up your hips instead of allowing you to move it further down. She was able to stop herself, just barely. But without even knowing it, from that moment forward, you had Kate Bishop in your trap.

She was sly, following behind wherever you went without you even knowing it. Stalking behind you in the street, swinging from rooftop to rooftop with the help of Venom’s neverending slick webs of ink, watching you from across the street while you danced and drank in bars, went from store to store on your weekly shopping trip, snuggled in comfortably for the night in the assumed safety of your own bed. You had completely, wholly taken over Kate’s life without ever having met her. Every time she sat down to study she couldn’t do anything but scribble down your name and draw sketches of you from memory in her, admittedly amature and flawed, art style, every time she drew her bow she couldn’t help but picture her arrow sinking into the flesh and piercing the heart of whoever she saw you with last, a crush, a friend, even a stranger you may had just been giving directions to, they were all the same to Kate, undeserving of even being in the same vicinity as you. When she finally cracked and leaned into her new role as your very own, personal stalker and did some idle snooping online, finding out that you were enrolled at the same college as her, everything became much, much worse. Finding out which classes you took, Kate mangled and stretched her schedule out as much as she was able to until she finally managed to land herself a spot in three out of five of your classes, which was honestly more than the brunette had hoped for when she sent out her email, requesting, practically begging for, her new classes.

Kate sat a few rows directly behind you in the partially empty lecture halls, at first content to watch the back of your head and the way you furiously scribbled down notes in attempt to keet up with your various professors ramblings, but eventually that no longer satisfied her need to be near you, she needed to know you. So, with her heart thudding out of chest like that time she tried to ask her crush in middle school to the winter dance, and Venom’s crazed and incessant cheering clattering around in her brain, instead of taking her usual seat, she stopped a few rows ahead than she normally would in Professor Maximoff’s class and slid in the seat beside you, nearly sending your normal seat partner tumbling to the floor. But when your eyes found hers and you gave her that sweet smile she had watched you give others, for months pleading with the universe for it to be directed at her, followed by a shy greeting, Kate no longer worried about the boy she had practically rugby-tackled to the ground. Honestly, the entire world could have imploded at that very second, and as long as you were in a protective bubble and gave her that same smile again, Kate would die happier than she ever had been, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to hold Venom back any longer.

She let him take the lead in her obsession, looking into every part of your life that the internet had to offer. She found where you grew up, details of your family, your favourite books and movies, anything she could squeeze out. Kate was sure that the universe wanted you to be hers when she got the notification that you had accepted her request to your private instagram, the one away from the prying eyes of your parents. Abandoning any shred of reason or dignity she had left, Kate got about an hour of sleep that night due to her endless scrolling of your instagram and any photos you were tagged in, Venom getting particularly rowdy when she came by a picture of you in a bikini on one of your friends accounts.

Kate’s plan to have you was set in motion the very next day, innocently asking you questions about yourself, ignoring the lecture and Professor Romanoff’s harsh warning glares. She learned a lot more about you than the internet ever could have given her, and you in turn learned some facts about Kate. You talked about your famile lives, Kate telling you that she was an only child who was raised by her mother, about hobbies, music, anything and everything Kate could absorb about you, and she cursed how the time flew by when Professor Romanoff informed the class that the lecture was over. Kate begrudgingly packed up her things, trying to take in as much of you as possible, as if she wouldn’t see you the very next morning. She slowly stood up when she noticed you had finished cramming your things into your backpack, and stood up to leave, but her footsteps came to an abrupt stop when you spat out a hurried invite to go to a bar with you and your friends that night. Kate spun around slowly, sure that she couldn’t have possibly heard you right, and she watched for a moment as you chewed on your lower lip, fighting over if you had made the right decision. But before you could retract the invitation in a hurried apology about how you hardly knew each other, ignoring the fact that you were ceratin you had told Kate every note-worthy thing about yourself in the last hour, Kate agreed. Her hands were shoved into her jacket pockets to prevent her from pumping her first in victory as you quickly scribbled down the address and time on a discarded piece of paper from a random students desk. Kate quickly made a grab for it as soon as your pencil had left the page, looking at it as if it were the Holy Grail, and to Kate, it was. She promised you that she would be there, the brunette already imagining seeing you that night, away from the stuffiness of the lecure halls, before sending you one last longing look and leaving you standing alone by your desk, watching her leave.

What Kate was unaware of was that you had your eye on her for weeks. Not nearly to the degree that Kate wanted you, but the second that you heard Professor Maximoff call out her name, you were looking her up on the schools website on your phone under the desk, intrigued by the new face showing up halfway through the semester. Your eyes nearly buldged out of their sockets when one of the first things you saw, aside from her grinning student ID picture, was Kate with a bow in her hands, looking as it was the most natural thing for the weapon to be there, with muscles straining against her long, fitted sleeves as she drew back her arrow, the headline under it detailing that she had brought another archery trophy home to the college. After that, your deep dive down the rabbit hole that was Kate Bishop was long and thorough, scouring through every mention in the schools website and news article - after ashemedly staring at her arms and hands on every picture for a good five minutes before eventually managing to tear yourself away. After weeks of pining after the star athlete, clinging to her every word when she answered a question or commented on the syllabus, or really anything she said, you could hardly believe your luck when she sat down next to you, your tunnel vision focused on the object of your latest fantasies not allowing you to feel worry for the boy that she elbowed away.

Kate was ecstatic that night as she pushed her way through the door of the bar, nervously tugging on the tie hung loosely around her neck. Venom had been berating her all night over her nerves, Kate rolling her eyes like a petulant child every time. He was right, of course. The deck was completely stacked in Kate’s favour, knowing every detail about you to make you putty in her hands, Still, she couldn’t help the anxiety nagging away at the back of her mind, as if she was about to go on a first date, worrying about impressions and the way she was dressed.

Kate could swear that all of the oxygen was sucked out of the room the second she saw you. You were dressed to the nine’s, especially for the dingy bar that you so regularly frequented, and there was a small bloom of hope within Kate that you had dressed up just for her. You certainly had never put so much effort in any other night you went out, and as far as Kate could see, she was the only change to your night.

Newfound confidence overtook Kate as she strode over to where you and your friends were clustered at the bar, unable to fight off her smirk as you immediately pulled your arm away from where it was slung around one of your friends shoulders, pulling the taller woman into a tight hug.

“You came!” You cheered, overjoyed at Kate’s arrival before pulling away from her, much to Kate’s disappointment, with a blush staining your cheeks, embarrassed at your sudden outburst of affection towards the girl you had only first talked to that afternoon, and Venom was quick to fill Kate’s thoughts of all the other things she could do to bring that redness to your face in other ways.

“Told you I would,” she smiled down at you instead.

It’s a miracle that Kate heard you ask her if she wanted a drink over the 80’s rock music playing from a corner somewhere, the conversations of different patrons that had all blended into one another, and the depraved thoughts clouding her mind. She stuttered out her usual drink order and you skipped off to find a bartender to make it for her, leaving Kate alone with your friends. She knew who they all were, of course, having fantised about watching the light leave most of their eyes after getting too close to you for Kate’s liking. Some looked at her with curiosity, while others with disdain, and Kate wondered why exactly it was that you invited her there.

“We could kill them all before anyone in here could even blink.”

Internally hissing at Venom to shut up, Kate turned her attention back to you. She spun around, completely ignoring the question one of your friends had finally voiced to her. She watched as you leaned over the bar, giggling at something the server had said to you, completely oblivious to the way the angle allowed Kate’s stare to hungrily devour the inches of cleavage that there exposed, angling herself to see down your dress as far as she could. Venom was screaming at her, screeching that now was the time to make their move. And for once, she listened to him.

You weren’t even aware of Kate’s determined gaze set on you, or the heavy foot falls of her boots against the wooden floor, until her hand wrapped around your bicep in a vice grip, dragging you away from whatever conversation that apparently was so hilarious the bartender was clutching his side. Kate promised Venom that they would see his blood before the night was over.

You made a sound of protest as you looked up to see that it was Kate who was dragging you across the bar, making a beeline for the exit. “Wh- Kate, what are you doing?” You questioned, tugging on your arm to try and free it from her bruising grip.

“I need to talk to you,” Kate all but growled out, dragging you through the door to the bar and into the cold New York night air, your short romper doing nothing to protect you from the bitter frost of the oncoming winter.

It was difficult enough having to watch you drape yourself over your friends from afar, watching through windows or scrolling through social media, sure that at least three of them wanted you, or at the very least wanted to fuck you, but watching it mere feet away from her was harder than Kate had predicted, Venom bringing out her baser instincts until all she wanted to do was press you against the nearest surface and claim you as hers and the symbiote’s marking you in front of everyone, anyone who had ever just layed eyes on you. She needed all of New York to know who you belonged to. But, despite Venom egging her on, even trying to take front seat and force her body into the movements, Kate couldn’t bring herself to do it. So, she settled for the next best thing, dragging you into the alley that was cracked between the bar and the next building.

Your questions didn’t cease until your back collided with the hard stone wall of the alley, Kate’s hard body caging you in, and she wasted no time crashing her mouth to yours.

It took a second for you to react, for your mind to process the sudden changes, but as soon as you did you were pressing yourself against Kate as much as you were able to, your hands coming up to her hair and tangling in her raven locks.

The kiss was a fight for dominance that Kate quickly won, slamming your arched back against the wall again, using your surprised and slightly pained yelp to allow her tongue to invade your mouth. You let her taste you, let her consume all of you, and it was the first time within your presence that Kate let her dams break and venom to slip through. She felt the slickness of his ‘flesh’ run down her arm, coating it, looking as if she had dipped it in a vat of tar. Kate’s hair moulded itself in your hands, although you were too preoccupied to notice, the already black locks flowing freely around her. It was only when you both pulled apart, the need for air separating you, that your eyes met hers and you saw that Kate’s were taken over by white.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” Kate whispered to you, drawing circles where her hand had landed on you hip in an attempt to soothe you, feeling that Venom was breaking free and that you could clearly see that, but her voice was warped. The words were all Kate, Venom’s eagerly encouraging her to continue with the previous activities, but the voice that said them was broken and deeper, and it wasn’t the one you had swooned over a mere ten minutes ago.

“Kate, let go of me,” your voice was smaller, the cheerfulness replaced by fear. You had no idea what was wrong with Kate, but you had no intention of sticking around to find out.

“No,” the voice was harsher now, more deformed, as Kate and Venom both fought for the chance to speak, Kate’s biceps straining as she pushed you up against the wall more firmly, holding your hips in an unbreakable clamp. Any softness that was there before was gone in an instant. You watched as Kate allowed Venom to take the reigns and she ground up against you.

Closing in on you, her body caging you in and leaving nowhere for you to run, Kate moved one of her hands from your hip, up your body, until she got to the neckline of your romper, yanking it down and revealing the lace of your bra.

Kate pawed at your breasts over your bra, and even with her pupils and iris’ gone you could feel her eyes drinking you in.

“So fucking pretty,” you didn’t like the relief that coursed through you when it was purely Kate’s voice that reached your ears. Despite your desperation to run out of the alley and never see her again, her own voice much less terrifying that the distorted sound of Kate and Venom melding together

“All those people looking at you. Shit, baby, wanted to watch my arrows crack into their skull,” Kate’s tone was soft and tender, as if the words were meant to comfort and woo you, but they sent a shock of fear down your spine, the thought of Kate killing someone over you paralysing your every muscle, and Kate accentuated her point with roughly pulling your bra down, freeing your breasts, and you winced at the wire of your bra digging into the soft skin of your sides. “So, so pretty,” Kate repeated, her gaze devouring you whole. “And all mine.”

“Ours,” Venom immediately hissed in her ear, his screeching grating against her brain. “You would have never had her like this if it wasn’t for me.”

Kate just rolled her eyes, ignoring the symbiote, which most definitely didn’t rub him the right way, and you were sure the next words, in a different voice than the last two, came from someone other than Kate entirely.

“I could kill the archer and have you to all to myself.”

That voice was quickly crammed far in the back of Kate’s head, and any movement from her stopped entirely, her hands simply resting on your tits, her entire weight focused on smushing you against the wall behind you as a look of anger twisted its way onto Kate’s face. She was having a war inside her head that you were not privy to.

Minutes passed, and you began to wonder if Kate was going to keep you like this all night, pressed against the wall of an alleyway, breasts on display for any passerby who took a few steps into the shadows, with Kate towering silently above you.

You finally found it in yourself to try and wriggle out of Kate’s grasp, and this is what seemed to wake her from her stupor, her focus snapping back to you.

“Don’t listen to him, baby,” you fought back a cry of relief when Kate’s voice replaced the monstrous one that seemed to have dragged her into her subconscious. You weren’t exactly sure who he was, but you decided that you would much rather have Kate at the forefront than him. “He won’t take me away from you, not ever. No one’s gonna ever separate us again.”

Kate wasn’t sure when it was that she decided to keep you by her side from now on. As soon as she walked into the bar? When she saw you laughing with the bartender? When she felt your lips against hers for the first time? She really didn’t know, but she had decided, and, unbeknownst to you, a future without Kate by your side no longer existed.

[mettatons-fat-doughy-asscheeks]

How about Mettaton getting hooked on mukbang culture. Becomes a streamer (one of the most well known) but after years or so, his health starts to decline heavily. Completely wreck him if you please. (slob is also welcome)

*Hello darlings! As you can see the stream is a little different today but I thought as somebody as multifaceted as me it'd only be right to spice it up.

*It was a very innocent start. A nice three course provided by a chef he'd fired for the day to do a one off mukbang stream. Then he saw the views. It was his top rated stream so far, with numbers approaching his average viewership on television.

*Welcome back to the biweekly backstage mukbang! Today we're trying out the new McLardass Jelly Burgers!

*They increased in frequency and in turn viewership. He devoted more and more time to it, and eventually every show he'd been starring in went on an indefinite hiatus to make room for his new career. A career that consumed his life much like he was consuming ever increasing amounts of fast food. It was getting to the point that he'd given up on working out, instead devoting those hours to more and more streams.

*HOOUUUUURRP thanks for the donation, TrashHumper! Guess the next hour is going to be another Crimson Splash 2 liter challenge!

*The effect of the new direction was obvious. He was getting seriously fucking fat. Every stream was a torrent of calories spurred on by a relentless crowd of donating onlookers. Every (increasingly infrequent) fan meet up everybody could see how his thighs widened and his gut stretched that old costume he refused to get a size up on. It eventually met it's end when a group of chat members goaded him into trying it on again live, his rough and careless attempt to prove anybody saying it doesn't fit wrong resulting in the seat of the shiny black body suit splitting in front of millions of viewers. His ass was bare in front of them all and it obviously resulted in a ban from the service he'd been using. With his popularity and funds however a dedicated site called MTTeats was setup for his streams with a stricter moderation policy in place.

Slob and healthplay content begins under the cut

*Hello darlings! hffff On today's lovely stream we'll be UUUARP- fuck we'll be taste testing every fried chicken mnff sandwich I could get! I of course hffff hff got ten of each one so they all get a fair chance to PPHHRPPPPPPTTTTTT shine!

*New site moderation could probably be described as tyrannical. After he made headlines mooning one of the biggest streams on the platform detractors were sure to follow. Anything and everything that could be perceived as insulting resulted in a chat ban, including any worried or legitimately confused comments. Years of nonstop single minded gorging for the sake of his passion for spectacle and showmanship were quickly deteriorating his hygiene, every stream now ending with the robot barely coherent and slathered in greasy leftovers as both ends spewed smoggy gas that showed on camera. After the infamous viral incident in which the previously reinforced chair he streamed from failed and sent him tumbling to the floor with a memorable wet slap he changed over to his couch, showing off the mess that his living room had become. It was increasingly clear that it wasn't just during streams that he'd partake in eating fast food garbage.

*wheeeeeze Good morning, delicious dahlings! It'sh your favorite HOOUUURP mnfff Mettaton! Wondering why I'm streaming sho early? Well Ah'm hfff hffff totally shwitching over to a 24/7 shtreaming model! You'll be able to shee your beloved ngh PHHHRRRRPPPTTT nhhhffg shtar's daily life any time you want!

*With the introduction of the 24/7 model came a real insight into just how bad it had become. With multiple angles available it'd become obvious just how much he was now reliant on his butler staff, confirming what everybody already assumed. He was basically couchbound. Handsome men and women dirtied their fine suits daily to bring the robot hours worth of fast food orders in a near constant stream that only ended when he'd fall into his increasingly common food comas. Things often cut out the streams in the form of BRBs like him taking massive breaks on an oxygen mask or being escorted by a team of 3 muscular butlers to the bathroom were now very public. Along with that things previously just out of frame like the myriad of monitoring equipment that attached just beneath his ill fitting clothes or what was obviously a device built into the couch to fuck his gargantuan sofa filling ass. Alphys became a common site on the stream, and some chat members even got excited to hear her lectures. Straight from her mouth anybody could hear that he was suffering from grease built up in his coolant pumps, overheating of every processor in his body, and failure of the nervous software in his bloated cellulite covered legs. Yet every day in that husky deepened yet cheerful voice he'd interact with the dynamically filtered and aggregiously censored chat.

*Whaaatsh wheeeeeze next to eat?

*He asked that as if there wasn't every sign that he should have stopped long ago. That bloated collar of lard showing how he was owned by his addicting to fattening slop; that hanging gut who's multi layered apron of blubber obscured the entirety of his non functioning pig sized legs; those two bloated greasy tits who's massive nipples would be visibly sucked on by butlers to get him off; those completely useless arms that ended in bloated grease slicked fingers that could barely bend; that cock so deeply buried in a cave of pure blubber that was stuffed around the clock with an overclocked vibrator that kept him constantly leaking; the loud overbearing slow pumping sound within his chest with its increasingly worrying pauses and skips. At least viewership was still through the roof. At least that what the bots Alphys flooded the site with since day one made it seem like.

[jazzythursday]

No because— no because nooooo

I’ve spent over six hours binging GO s2 (there were many parts where I had to pause to scream and rewind) and just—ngk

I have to watch it again to really form full thoughts but here are some completely out of order that I can remember from my current pterodactyl brain very much still freaking out abt it

Spoilers under the cut

I couldn’t get over Crowley when they first go to the bookshop taking his sunglasses off and just… leaving them by the door. It seems so habitual like he wouldn’t even think to leave them on in the bookshop or that he would possibly need them once inside. He didn’t hang them on his shirt or hold them— he left them by the door. The whole season Crowley really seems like he doesn’t wear his glasses with Aziraphale at all anymore when they’re alone, which is just— it makes him putting them on again in ep 6 SO MUCH MORE PAINFUL.

The way that this fandom has been so on the money about these characters and where the story was going. Obviously not everything, but so many things from fanfic carried over and it makes me insanely happy that our versions of Aziraphale and Crowley are really just Aziraphale and Crowley.

Crowley making stars— CROWLEY MAKING STARS. He’s so happy and enamored and he loves it as much as I always thought he would. Even as a demon he’s always loved too much and cared too much (about people, about earth, about Aziraphale) but Crowley in the first scene is Crowley untempered. No glasses, no armor, no self enforced cynicism—why would he need it? He’s joyful, and enthusiastic, and excited, and he hasn’t been given a single reason to hide it or play it down, and it broke my heart, because then we see present day Crowley so unsure and existential and the direct juxtaposition between ‘it doesn’t need to be for anything, it’s a nebula, it has value just for existing’ to ‘what’s it all for? It’s all so pointless’ we know Crowley is an optimist, but I feel like so much of this season is him adrift, standing still, wondering where it’s all meant to be going.

Did Shax like, expropriate his flat? Is that what happened? Does that technically make the flat property of Hell? Like having to give back the company car when you get fired? I just want to know if that’s the reason he didn’t just laugh and shut the door on her face. Also I can’t stop thinking about him grabbing as many plants that he could carry before leaving and nothing else. (Also also, why is he not living with Aziraphale since we have confirmation that until Gabriel—erm—Jim showed up there was an EMPTY BEDROOM NO ONE WAS USING. Yeah, I get it, their idiots who can’t stop talking in circles around each other to save their lives, but Aziraphale knows Crowley loves being in the bookshop, and goes as far as to say it’s basically theirs in a way, so it doesn’t seem like that much of a stretch. I’m not saying it’s not believable, I’d just like to know why.)

Speaking of which, Aziraphale driving the Bentley. AZIRAPHALE DRIVING THE BENTLY!! It’s fucking yellow, he’s giving it stern talks about appropriate music and eating sweats and listening to Glenn Millar Band and Crowley is threatening to sell his books! I can’t, it’s perfect.

Aziraphale trying to use a smart phone was everything to me. I imagine it’s exactly how he speaks to his computer in the bookshop. He’s so polite, and OF COURSE it listens. Just, that whole thing.

Shax using both their fears of the other getting hurt hurt me. She threatens Aziraphale to Crowley and Crowley to Aziraphale. Especially her talk with Aziraphale stuck out. Her saying he wasn’t Crowley’s type and the little raised eyebrows from Aziraphale made me laugh. Also her saying she didn’t believe they were a couple before. (I’m assuming Crowley’s threats about if she harmed Aziraphale were part of that?) And her not understanding what/why Crowley feels for Aziraphale. “He thought you were his ticket to the big time” but that was never what it was about for Crowley. He wants Aziraphale as he is, and for Aziraphale to want him as he is. And I wonder if Aziraphale understood that or what she meant at the time.

Crowley was SO fiercely protective of Aziraphale this season. Especially his talk with Gabriel about what he said during the execution. Also I think it implied that he never told Aziraphale exactly what was said (I could be wrong) but just. Crowley’s anger on behalf of Aziraphale, and his need to take it out on Gabriel (up to a point), his insistence in the first ep that Gabriel isn’t their friend, that Heaven tried to have him killed, it’s the same argument over and over again and they walk it all the way to the end of ep 6 and Aziraphale is still in so much denial about it. He doesn’t know, he hasn’t seen, and you can tell that before this season Crowley had thought they were already past that, on the same page, and that it hurts so much to find out they weren’t.

Um… I think this post is getting a bit too long, possibly. I still have more thoughts so I’ll make a pt 2, but for now I’ll leave you with that.

I shall return.

[saintship]

Hey I just wanted to request something real quick and if your not comfortable with doing so don't worry about it 🫶🫶

I've been having so much dysphoria lately and I was thinking about an idea where Price had kept in contact with a trans/non-binary teenager they saved a while back and for when in times they needed help with anything Price gave them his number. So reader has been having a huge dysphoric dip and the stress of school has just been way to much on them lately so they called him up and asked for help. (Assuming reader now lives close to their base.) He drives over and just comforts them and let's them know it's okay and he'll always be their biggest supporter.

I've just been craving some good fluffy comfort with Price and again if you're not comfortable with writing this don't worry its absolutely fine. Have a great day/night 🫶

I’m back!

HI IM SORRRYYYYYYY I PROMISE IM NOT ABANDONING THIS BLOG

And to this anon, I hope you’re alright and just know my blog is a place to be you and you're so cool and rad and awesome :)

I just need you

platonic!Price & trans!reader

Some things just don’t go away. The tugging at your skin, stretching as far up and away from your body as you can, the pacing, the staring. It subsides and returns like a rough coastline, traveling everywhere all at once and yet never reaching anything at all.

It was the night you almost died, fittingly, that you truly started appreciating your own. Trapped in a dead end, several figures closing in fast. You heard their radio crackle with a message to capture instead of kill, and couldn’t process which was worse. It all seemed to blur together from then, until you were tucked into yourself, your head between your knees. You felt a hand at your shoulder, which you scrambled away from.

“Woah, hey..”

A gentle voice made you lift your head ever so slightly, seeing a face you didn’t recognize. The shapes lying still behind him proved he’d taken care of your problem.

“Are you hurt?”

Your words felt caught in your ribcage, a fluttering swarm gathering where your courage should be. You shook your head for the negative.

You simply continued to study him, his gentle eyes, the thread of his beanie, his flag patch.

“Right..” He adjusted his feet, now kneeling down fully on one knee. “It would really help me if you could come to the base so I can get you home, okay? It’s not safe here.”

His eyes searched yours with a reverence that confused you to no end. But you nodded.

“Okay..”

“Okay.” His lips twitched gently into a momentary smile before he helped you to your feet.

The base was cold inside, the walls blank and halls narrow, but he kept a hand on your shoulder from the car to his office, the warmth of his palm soothing.

He'd gotten you home safe, talked with your folks, and given you his office number after many attempts of you refusing.

"Call me. Anytime."

So you did. Most of the time, it was you who wanted to know about his life. Military propaganda be damned, with every phone call you were more inclined to hear more about him and his team, which you were both intimidated by and dying to see in person. The first time you called him for a different reason, you couldn't breathe.

"Hey, kid."

"Price.." His name caught in your throat, another wave of adrenaline shooting up your spine. Your room seemed too small, the floor too abrasive, the air too thick.

"Hey, what's wrong? Do I need to come get you?"

"No..no, I.." You huff, angry at your inability to speak. The frustration only built into the trembling of your hands.

"It's too much..everything...I'm going fucking crazy, I can't take this anymore.." Your voice cracked, and embarrassment flashed over your expression. "Price.."

"You need to breathe. Please. Open your eyes, listen to me."

You hadn't realized your eyes were screwed shut until his words encouraged you to open them gingerly, small spots dotting your vision from the strain.

"I know. I know.. listen, you don't have it easy, no question. But your life's only just started. Do your hear me?"

"Yes.."

"Good. Breathe just like that. It's going to be okay, kid, I've got you."

You breathe shakily, nodding even though he can't see you.

"Hey."

"Yeah?"

"Come outside."

You blinked for a moment before hanging up, forcing your legs to carry you to and out the front door. There he was. Sitting against one of those company-issued trucks that he definitely shouldn't be using for this. For you. But he did.

You don't bother with shoes, your socks largely protecting you from the cold pavement as you walk briskly to him. Before you can bother asking permission, he's got you in his arms, rocking you slowly.

"S'alright.." His voice is softer than it's ever been.

"I didn't mean to bother you, I just-"

"Oi. None of that." He replies immediately, pulling back to rest a hand at the side of your head. "I stayed in touch for a reason. You're a good kid, you deserve someone to call when you get like this, you hear me?"

You nod, too emotional at his words to speak without more tears flowing, before collapsing back into his arms.

"Oh, kid.." he hugs you tightly, letting you take the time to hold onto him.

"I'll always support you. With everything you want to be, and everything you go through. I'm here."

[kinocomix]

update, I wrote a string quartet

one of the pieces of music i wrote for my second ongoing project. a handwritten version of this sheet music will be featured in the comic. in the story, it's written by a very smart 10 year old who's dumb as a brick at everything else.

the midi instruments sound a bit wonky, but the spirit is there. maybe one day it'll be played by actual strings, who knows.

I'm still waiting for the beta readers, in the meantime I'm in the last stretch of writing the book with killouette. I also may have rage committed to a future project after "Trash, the dog who saved the word" after a conversation with a friend...

The minotaur is a sloppily written story and I’m fixing it, fuck you Andrew 

Part 1: the plot holes and logical fallacies as present in the canonical narrative

As you may know, Asterius is the less used way of referring to the minotaur, a creature that's half bull half man. The story of the minotaur as present in canon has some unexplained holes in it, they are detailed below this image:

First, the elephant in the room is the issue of accountability. assuming Pasiphae was successfully able to hide her sexual attraction to a bull, which while weird is not that difficult a task to accomplish, the issue still stands as to Daedalus not questioning the king’s wife’s desire to fornicate with a bull, adding to that the fact that no one questioned why this man was making a life size hollowed out wooden cow, with a hole where the reproductive organs would be and no doubt some pillows and handles on the inside. Any answers obtained here are entirely conjecture on behalf of the reader, but one might say perhaps the two were planning something long term for example, this would be a more interesting answer to give than them being stupid.

Second is the issue of Pasiphae “nursing” the child, this being followed up with a description of the child “[growing] in size and [becoming] ferocious”. it is to be noted here that there is at no point a number specified regarding the age of the child in years”. A possible conjecture here is to operate based on what we know from animals in the real world: most animals grow at a rate much faster than human children grow. While size does tend to plateau earlier for something like a bull or a dog, it wouldn’t be unreasonable to assume that a theoretical hybrid child would grow in size at a rate far superior to normal human children. Given that the narrative clearly describes the minotaur as being able bodied, it wouldn’t be unreasonable to assume it inherited the best of the father’s physical traits. So while for example the child would be one year old, it would possibly have the appearance and physical traits of a 5 year old, possibly even more, up to 10. Another conjecture of note is the mother “nursing” the child. It's already abundantly clear from her lack of reason and reaction to falling in love with a bull being to consummate her feelings instead of… well… anything else that she was not gifted with a double digit amount of neurons. so posit this: a new mother is confronted with a problematic child. 

her husband clearly doesn’t approve of the child’s existence given that it’s not his, a bull’s no less. This must obviously create a stressful environment, clouding her already problematic judgment. 

this child behaves in unexpected ways, perhaps they have more difficulty comprehending spoken language than normal kids for example. This must also create a barrier between her and the ability to connect with her child.

adding to that the -alleged- sensibilities of the time, alienating the child for its weird appearance and behavior. actions are very influenced by culture and upbringing. 

given all of this information, it would be safe to assume the mother did not, in fact, “nurse” the child. the child was very possibly neglected and potentially abused, which leads to my final point:

It is mentioned that the minotaur has no natural source of nourishment and thus can only eat humans. setting aside that this does not fit into the pre-established logic of the mythology the character inhabits, i.e. non natural creatures being able to get their nourishment from several places and/or different types of flesh, this is quite frankly lazy writing. This is further supported by the fact that both bulls and humans can subside off of vegetables.

Therefore, I would like to put forward the following:

Part 2: how i’m fixing it

as part of a greater plot to get theseus to the throne, an oracle told Pasiphae that in order to set up the events that would lead to his ascension, she needed to fool king Minos into thinking she cursed by god, and that she would need to give birth to a half bull, half man child that would be named Asterius. Poseidon, seeing his name being tarnished, gave the unborn child wisdom beyond the ages that would show itself when the time was right.

Asterius was born with less mental faculties due to the fact that he’s a hybrid. given his mother’s pension for being a complete failure as a parent and his father’s practical inexistence briefly punctuated by abuse, Asterius was seen as a monster; less than human. At less than a year old, Asterius was thrown into the labyrinth, forced to subside off of eating whoever ventured in. 

spoiler for the entire story beyond this point

The story starts with an elderly woman named Thera, daughter of Peftis wandering into a cave. She's a herbalist and healer by profession. Having grown up a humble farmer she learned to make the best of the land, and always carries seeds to spread Demeter’s blessings wherever they are welcome. unbeknownst to her, she has wandered into an opening that leads into Daedalus’s labyrinth. Inside, she’s lost for days but does not experience hunger or thirst. A vision reveals to her that she would die protecting an adopted child, who goes forth to bring about an age of peace.

a little shook, she thanks the gods for watching over her and continues to wander the wide labyrinth in search of an exit. She runs into a massive creature covered in blood and viscera. In her panic, she trips and drops a loaf of bread. frozen in fear, she watches as the creature picks up the loaf and smells it, its bloodsoaked fur glinting in the afternoon sun. it begins to eat it right in front of her before running away. Time passes as Thera reflects on her encounter, wondering why the creature was more interested in the bread than harming her. That night, she hears a voice calling out to her from the dark with simple, broken language. it is the creature, struggling to speak with its inhuman mouth. 

From that moment on, the story talks about Thera and the beast, who introduces itself as Asterius. Asterius reveals to Thera that a vision of grand waters and marine creatures spoke to it years ago, and that it saw, thought and felt things it had never before. it knows not to harm others, yet sometimes the hunger is too loud. Thera offers Asterius another load of bread and notices decorative sea shells have appeared on her satchel. Slowly but surely over the course of several months, the two learn more about each other. Thera teaches Asterius about planting and farming, in return Asterius shares the hidden wisdom it had acquired during its years in the maze. The story culminates in the two having to run from a man called Theseus, now that the creature no longer needs to kill to survive. In that moment, Thera remembers her vision from all those months ago, as divine magic transforms her into a creature similar to Asterius. The two have some time to share a goodbye before Thera sacrifices herself, pretending to be the savage beast the hunter seeks. The man called Theseus takes her head as a trophy, and where her body lies a lush flower bush with softly glowing flowers grows. as Asterius grieves, a voice bellows from the bush, as a door opens bringing with it ocean breeze and a the scent of a thousand roses:

“RISE, WAYWARD SON OF THERA.  FROM DUST TO DIAMOND, FROM DIAMOND TO WRATH, THE ROAR OF THE COSMOS CALLS FORTH, OH CHAMPION OF THE SEA. YOUR TIME HAS YET TO COME, HUMBLE ONE. POWER BE UPON THEE, POWER BE UPON THEE”

Part 3: themes

destiny, mental disability, racism, ableism, compassion, humility, patience (to name a few)

[jacevelaryonswife]

In a Restaurant, in West End Town

There were a lot of questions swirling around in your head when your eyes opened, however, the main one — which all intertwined — was: what the hell happened last night?

∴pairing: (modern) Aegon, Aemond, Jacaerys and Lucerys x Fem!Reader

∴warnings and a note: irresponsibility on the part of our dear characters, sorry. By the way, thanks for the 1k!

A searing heat suffocated your body to the point of making your rest impossible. Few times in your life have you had a headache as bad as that one, so bad that it made you want to get hit and pass out — or just be able to go back to sleep again — but apparently there was no favorable condition for that to happen. Soon, your mind began to bombard your peace with questions, where were you anyway? Why was it so hot? Why were there two hands stretched out behind your back in opposite directions?

And most importantly, why were you the stuffing in Aegon and Jace's sandwich?

“What the fuck…”

Dropping to your knees without too much care, your eyes darted around the cheap motel room, taking in Aemond in the next bed sleeping face down in all his splendor. And that's where your memory betrayed you, because you didn't remember how you got there. In fact, you didn't remember shit, just flashes of last night.

"It's so good to be with you guys again," you said, cuddled sideways with Jace.

“Tonight has to be legendary!” Aegon exclaimed.

Sudden change of scenery to a car interior, and given that Aegon was driving the vehicle you assumed it was the outrageously expensive and tacky golden Ferrari called the Sunfyre.

“Why would we have a drinking contest at 7 P.M?” Jace asked with a frown.

“Because it's the only thing he can win,” Aemond replied prickly, in an incredibly calm tone.

“I don't miss so much how pretentious you’re, although that's not wrong,” you said.

“Fuck you all old bitches,” he complained.

"Anyway, let's think of something else to amuse ourselves with," suggested Jace.

“I don't need a lot of things when I'm with you guys,” you said, eliciting emotional sounds from the older Tagaryen and Velaryon, while Aemond let a shy smile escape.

Another change of scenery, this time in the penthouse of the luxury apartment they rented for the weekend in Long Beach. Although you didn't want to cost your friends so much, you can't say you didn't like the refined choice far from your reality, like promotional photos from a magazine.

“I could get used to this view,” your voice was sly as you confided to Aemond, admiring the night beach beside him.

“Me too,” he said.

“Wasn't that too expensive?” You asked worriedly, making him almost roll his eyes in amusement.

"A little, but that's beside the point."

"Cause the mama's boy always gets everything," quipped Aegon.

"What are you talking about? You ’re such a mama ’s boy too,” Jace objected when he joined you.

"The only-" Before Aemond could deliver lethal strokes of his sharp tongue against one of his kinsmen, you interjected with the only truth in existence about the three incredibly rich boys:

"Please, all of you’remama's boys, don't pretend to be condescending."

Another flash followed to a blurred backdrop, with blond figures in front of you and dark, curly locks below your hands. What caused such a blurred memory? Another flash of bright neon lights in red, yellow, and green, followed by more flashing lights and a blast of loud music. Everything went dark after that, no other memories. It wasn't possible... could it be...

It would be idiotic to agree to a contest aimed at heavy drinking when you used to drink a lot yourself. What the fuck did you three agree to any of Aegon's ideas? It was too much to digest, and it wasn't even halfway through, and then when your eyes fell on the watch Jacaerys wore and saw the alarming time, you began to shake both Targaryen and Velaryon from behind, calm at first and impatiently after seeing that neither of them answered.

"What it was?" The older one grumbled, followed by a sulky-pouting Jace glaring at you.

"It's late, we have to get out of here."

“The night it's a child, baby,” he replied sleepily, deep voice.

“It’s 4:15 P.M!” you exclaimed.

“WHAT? What the fuck happened?” asked Jace — one of the almost rare instances he used a curse word.

"I don't know, I don't remember anything."

"Me neither."

Turning to the opposite side, the blonde ignored the active dialogue and made little effort to open his eyes, going back to sleep. Getting out of bed, you walked over to Aemond and touched him carefully, being greeted by a grumpy “mm”.

“Why are you always so handsome when you sleep?” Your questioning rang out in an indignant tone, causing a stunned sound from him. “Wake up, Rapunzel, it's almost 4 o'clock."

"Morning?" He asked in a groggy voice, still on his stomach.

"No."

“What the fuck…”

“It has become a common question, apparently.”

"What do you mean?"

“Do you remember what happened?”

"… not a lot."

"Where are we?"

“…”

Your eyes rolled. Since none of the three stooges could collaborate in any way, and to escape the unbearable heat, you decided to leave the room and look for information, being lucky to find a chambermaid as soon as she pointed in the hallway, you quickly stopped her with the best politeness you possessed .

“Excuse me, good afternoon, can you tell me where we are? Regarding the neighborhood.”

Her features weren't the most pleasant, relying on unimpressed eyes, a pinched nose and gaping boredom as she glared at you.

“San Clemente.”

Your first reaction was surprise, followed by an almost snort at her less than sympathetic response.

“San Clemente?” There was a very present disbelief in your tone, almost unpleasant to hear.

“As you heard. Excuse me."

She didn't have time for another question, after all, how would she know how you got to San Clemente? But the main thing was: WHY WERE YOU IN SAN CLEMENTE? It’s like an hour from Long Beach. What the fuck is happening? Walking down the hall, you went to reception to look up information — gods, you reeked — and found a stiff, middle-aged man looking over some numbers in an old notebook. Your suspicions that the establishment wasn't luxurious were confirmed and you hated how you missed the rare privilege.

“Excuse me, good afternoon, I… yeah… I think I checked in yesterday with some friends-

“At dawn.”

“Oh…” you blurted out, “so… how much was the bill? Yeah… do you know if we arrived by uber or by car?”

“Uber. But if you killed someone along the way and the police came here, then it was a car,” he said seriously, yet calmly. A warning.

"What?"

“Your stupid blond friend's Ferrari is back there, we didn't leave it out front so nobody could steal it. He made that clear when he offered an extra amount.” Okay, that was a lot. “But that must be little for you rich people.”

“I'm not rich,” was all you said as you tried to reason, “and what other room are you talking about?”

“The one next to yours.”

"Left or right?"

"Left."

Seven hells.

“Do you know… how many were we last night?

"Five."

"… ok."

Your head was pounding too hard from the aggressive hangover to stay there, thanking him out of habit as he nearly ran back down the hall to get to the three stooges, even though your curiosity was nearly making you knock on the next door. Unlike when he had left, they were all visibly awake, with Aemond trying to connect to his cell phone's Wi-Fi or Internet package.

"Where did you go?"

“Searching for information, apparently we are in San Clemente.”

“What?” An exasperated chorus rang through the room.

“And apparently we rented the room next door too,” you added.

"For who?" Aemond asked

“I was hoping one of you could say.”

“Why didn't you knock on the door?” Aegon inquired this time.

“I don't know, maybe because I didn't want to wake up Norman Bates or whoever was next to me,” you justified.

"Don't be dramatic, it's not that bad," he countered, to be contradicted by a grumpier-than-usual Aemond:

"You've stayed in worse places, it's not big news."

"I can't believe you rubbed coke in my nose!" Jace complained to the older Targaryen, shifting focus while still on topic.

“What? I didn’t do that!" The blonde exclaimed.

“Of course you did, I remember!”

“If I don't remember, I didn't do it.”

“It wouldn't surprise me if it were true,” commented Aemond.

“Could you stop? Just for a fucking moment?” Aegon asked with a wrinkled nose.

“Funny is-“

“Oh hells would someone go with me in the next room to know who came with us? I just want out of here,” you said angry.

“Oh common it’s not like Hannibal Lecter is in the fucking room.” Aegon rolled his eyes, throwing himself onto the bed.

“Okay, fuck you.”

Storming out of the room, you mirrored the angry slamming of your door in the next room, not pausing until you heard a familiar voice sound from the other side. Okay, one more surprise for the day. You could promise yourself that you wouldn't put a drop of alcohol in your mouth again — not that it was difficult.

“Luke? What are you doing here?"

"It's a long story."

“Seven heavens,” you said before entering his room. “No idea why I drank so much last night.”

He frowned, confused, before answering:

"You didn't seem drunk yesterday, high maybe, most likely."

It was your turn to narrow your brows.

"What? I don’t use drugs."

“It seemed so. In fact, only Aegon and Aemond were reeking of alcohol when they got home.”

“Home? Did we go to your house?”

“Yeah, and you're lucky Mom and Daemon weren't home when you guys got there,” Luke said.

"I can't fucking believe we drove drunk or high or whatever, by Mother, we could have killed or killed someone!"

“Actually you took an uber.”

“And why is Sunfyre parked back there? Oh great I can't believe I called a car by a name..."

He was silent for a while, stiffening a bit before explaining: "Uh... well, Aegon asked to... take... take you to West Hollywood but it meant going to Long Beach and back, which I didn't do and I didn't-didn't want to. let you go without conscience.”

"Wait, so you drove an Aeg's car here?"

“Not only this far… and it's not like I had a choice, I tried to get you to stay but Aemond was sober enough to say he'd gouge out my eye if I touched him.”

It took considerable effort to ignore the headache and redo last night's script, all with a tired body and a broken memory. So… basically you four went from Long Beach to Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen's house and then… no, there's still a long way to go.

“When you said not only this far, what did you mean? Where are we going and why are we stopping here?”

“Each of you wanted to go somewhere, so-“

Firm knocks outside followed by a call of your name ended up interrupting Lucerys from his explanation, it was Jace's voice, you recognized, moving to let you in. Apparently he had the same reaction he did to seeing his little brother with dark circles under his eyes (just like you all did).

“Luke? What are you doing here?"

“He's telling me exactly that,” you replied. "By the way, Aegon's car is in the parking lot."

“What?? He's going to freak out!”

"I know. What are they talking about in the bedroom?”

"Aegon saw a taco bell nearby, we were thinking of getting something to eat before heading back." Jace answered.

“Apparently it's the only good decision we've made in the last few hours,” you grumbled. “We can go, but we still need to know what happened last night. Go call that fuckers.”

—————

So tell me, what happened last night?

This is a different approach than what I usually do, but I didn't want this moment (1K followers) to go unnoticed. As I told a mutual, I've had this account for a long time, but I never wrote to tumblr, it was only after about four years without writing frequently that I decided to be active here. Anyway, thank you for all the affection I've received from you, from the moots to the anons and followers, I really appreciate it all! Anyway, thank you my dears 💙💙

@madame-fear @howyouloveyourdragon

[murdererofthumbs]

So today’s episode was a wild emotional rollercoaster for Roman girlies. I honestly think that in order for me to comprehend every episode I need to watch it twice, because first watch is always an over-anxious mess, when I just want to find out what happens, and then I can actually start thinking properly when stress levels are down to normal.

But I do have some thoughts based on both the episode and what people have been saying so far:

1) First, I knew since previous episode that although Kendall was full of shit when he said he will include Shiv in everything, Roman was absolutely serious about that. And he proved it! Literally tried to run every decision by her (and that makes me so happy, because he just wants his siblings to be together and work together and be a fucking family). But on the other hand… We are all aware that Shiv will not take that under consideration, right? As far as she is aware, her brothers fucked her over with their CEO-COO positions and that is enough for her to get vindictive and look for blood. So even though I’m happy that Roman remained true to his word, I also think that Shiv will stab him in the back anyway. Because she IS the most similar to Logan (don’t come at me, I love Shiv, but these are just the facts - if push comes to shove she will leak the whole Gerri-Roman dick incident and bury her brother if it means asserting her position).

2) I think it’s becoming more and more clear that Roman is heading towards some pretty dark place (I don’t think he will be able to hold his delusions for much longer, he is falling apart at the seams and there doesn’t seem to be anything that could fill out the gaping holes inside of him). The fact that each episode of Succession is supposed to be, what, one-two days (it has to be two days in this episode at least), means that since Logan’s death none of them had any breather from the grief and pain that this loss has caused them. But unlike Kendall and Shiv who both in their own ways acknowledged Logan’s passing and made semi (and I mean very semi)-peace with it, Roman is not even near that stage. He is still very much glorifying his dad (that trauma bond is holding very strong in there), and I feel like he might also not be sleeping. You know, sleep? The time when your subconscious mind roams free and brings all your possibly repressed thoughts on the forefront of your mind? Yeah, my bet is on pretty strong sleep deprivation here. Add some extremely palpable anxiety and trying to keep everything together and you have a nice ticking bomb ready to implode at any given moment (and he kinda did implode there with Matsson but it was still very much coated in delusions and projections of his own guilt).

Also - the pills. I know some girlies last week were like “oh guys chill, it’s just advil”, but having them flashed two episodes in the row? Nah, Succession writers don’t seem like the type to provide insignificant shots, and in combination with his nervous exterior, Roman taking some sort of pills makes perfect sense. I don’t know where this will lead to, but I’m trying not to be overwhelmed by negative thoughts (you guys really need to stop with Roman-suicide predictions, just…don’t).

3) Last thing is that as far as we are aware, Roman still doesn’t know that Kendall was the one behind leaking negative stuff about Logan to the media. I feel like they didn’t even get to the good (bad) stuff yet. And can you imagine what will happen then, considering how fucking unstable Roman was in this episode (without all that bullshit adding to his mental state)? Yeah, I don’t wang to imagine, but it will be really fucking bad. My prediction and that might be a stretch, but for some reason I feel like it will all culminate during Logan’s funeral (which I assume will be one of the episodes, considering Connor’s phone call and him sending Roman pics of their dead dad (!!!)). Both the shit about Logan and Roman’s downfall will probably come crushing down at the most difficult moment, where he will actually have to acknowledge that Logan is not only dead, but also very much a piece of shit and abuser.

Anywho, this show is a slaughterhouse and I both love it (derogatory) and hate it (affectionate).

[hsakuras]

Trap | A. Arlert

cw: drug use(weed) drug dealer! Armin, coercion, dubcon, degradation, finger sucking, oral (f receiving), cream pie, unprotected sex, spitting, mentions of baby trapping, self-indulgent

wc: 3.9k

[10:45p] Talk to Armin

You’re not sure what to say back, you want to laugh almost. You want to ask Eren if this is a joke for turning him down last week when he delivered your weed to you. You didn’t think it was that deep when you rejected him, the next text you get from him is Armin’s number.

He’s really serious.

You don’t reply. Not really in the mood to ask him why he won’t sell to you or what’s wrong with him. Instead you tap on the contact he sent you, saving it into your phone and replacing Eren’s spot.

You text him first asking if it’s Armin and explaining you got his contact from Eren. You figured they’d know each other, why else would Eren give you his number?

[11:00p] Hi! It’s me! What can I do for you?

You stifle a laugh, this is the guy you’re supposed to buy from? You know it’s awkward texting someone new for drugs but you’re almost ready to give up when he texts you again.

[11:03p] Eren just told me what you usually get, you want to meet me or should I bring it to you?

Usually you’d be in favor of getting anything you buy brought to you, but you figured it would be safer to meet him instead. Can’t have a stranger knowing where you live and your location is always on for your closest friends. You’ll be sure to text one of them before heading out.

Armin texts you an address of where to meet him. You’re quick to grab a jacket and slip your shoes on before heading out to meet him. You have half a mind to change into sweatpants before you leave but you don’t know how Armin is about being late and you don’t really feel like asking around for someone else to buy from.

The start of your drive is usual, listening and glancing to the directions of your gps to guide you across town. Recognizing that the further you go, the nicer the houses get, the bigger they get, and the more expensive they get. You almost text him to double check if you’re going the right way when it finally hits you.

You’ve met Armin before.

You were most likely fucked from a night of drinking or smoking, or both. You remember how he hung around Eren at a party and how he had on a stupid blue cardigan that matched his eyes. He looked like he didn’t even fit in with anyone. Just some cute, preppy kid running around with his family’s money, probably mixed in with the wrong crowd. It’s no wonder you’re pulling up to a nice house and of course there’s no wonder that there's a parade of cars here. You can see the numerous people with red solo cups in their hands, some stumbling, and the majority of them laughing at the antics of everyone else.

You almost want to leave when someone knocks on the window causing you to jump.

“Holy shit.” You roll your window down enough to be met with blue eyes. It’s Armin.

“Hey, uh, I have your stuff but you’re gonna have to come inside or wait out here.”

You only nod in response, not really giving him the solid answer he’s looking for.

“So are you cool waiting here orrr?”

“I’ll go inside, sorry.” You roll your window back up, taking the keys to your car and double checking to make sure it locks before following Armin inside the house.

The crowd of people outside pales in comparison to the sea of bodies inside of his house. Music blaring and your vision immediately falls to the sweaty bodies dancing in the middle of the huge living room. You continue to look around, watching in awe of how easily people let loose after a couple drinks or hits from a joint. You’re tempted to join them, that is until you make out Eren’s form holding a rolled joint up to Mikasa’s lips. You watch as she hesitantly leans forward and inhales before coughing while Eren laughs. You look away before he can see you, still following Armin before he offers his arm out to you.

“Last fuckin’ time I let Eren throw a ‘small’ party here.”

You laugh a little, holding onto Armin while he leads you upstairs. There are fewer people upstairs, some sitting around to get away from the crowd. Others start to roll a joint before they scramble to put their papers and weed away when they see Armin. He doesn’t pay them any attention, instead, he tells a couple looking for an unlocked room to ‘fuck off’ before unlocking the door to what you think is his room.

Inside everything is organized, you expected it to be. I mean this was Armin you were following, cute Armin with all of his white collared button-ups and cardigans. You don’t recall if you’ve ever seen him in a t-shirt, you watch as he fumbles around by his nightstand, still wary before he encourages you to come in and please shut the door behind you.

He tells you to have a seat on his bed, asking you if you can roll or if you want him to roll a joint for the both of you. You don’t really give him an answer before he finds his tray adorned with wrapping papers, a grinder, and more weed on it. He hands you your baggie of weed telling you that he doesn’t mind sharing his, you don’t know that he only shares his weed with girls he wants to fuck. He loves when new girls like you hit him up for bud, not worried in the slightest bit because Armin isn’t like Eren those sleazy drug dealers, he’s kind and cute.

Your eyes wander to the little bedside table where the drawer isn’t closed all the way and you can see all types of bags full of weed, you can see the scale that his weed was sitting on, and you can make out a smaller bag full of what you can only assume is molly. Part of you wants to ask why he spends his time selling, you’re in awe of his house and you’re sure that his family has more than enough for him to live comfortably.

Lithe fingers roll the joint together before his tongue peeks out of his mouth to ensure it stays together.

“Got a lighter?”

You nod, reaching into the pocket of your jacket and handing it to him. His hand envelops yours and his touch makes butterflies awaken in your stomach. You’re quick to smother them, telling yourself you’re only here for the weed and now a quick smoke session. Nothing else.

Ever the gentleman, he offers you the first hit, gently placing the joint between your lips despite your efforts to take it from him. He holds the lighter at the end and you study his face before you can finally inhale. The smoke makes the back of your throat burn, you cough a little and Armin laughs before plucking the joint from you and placing it on his lips. He inhales, the end lighting up in a bright orange while he takes off the cardigan he’s wearing.

“Sorry, it’s getting stuffy.” He says before passing the joint back to you, thankfully, he hands it to you this time. You take a longer drag, staring at the pretty veins on his arms and realizing how strong he might actually be. He isn’t like Eren, you think, he’s comfortable in the silence and you feel relieved that you no longer have to text his best friend for your drugs, not when Armin is better at responding and willing to smoke you out even if it’s just this time.

You take another hit, enjoying the feeling of your limbs growing heavy and your head swirling in bliss. You feel weightless yet heavy and you’re amazed at how only three hits has you feeling this way. It’s way better than anything Eren has ever given you.

“Armin” you say, mouth going completely dry when you notice that he’s unbuttoned part of his shirt and you can see his abs peeking through when you stretch your hand out to him holding the joint. He’s happy to take it from you, watching as you slowly grow even more comfortable on his bed, toeing your shoes off before letting your jacket fall off your shoulder revealing your little tank top you wear to bed. He takes one last hit before he tells you to finish it.

You’re not sure you can finish it, looking at the camera on your phone and seeing how glazed over your eyes look. Armin tells you to get comfortable, it’s fine. He’ll make sure that no one comes in to bother either of you.

Just trust him.

He watches as you bring the remainder of the joint back up to your lips, watching as you take hit after hit and giggling when you blow smoke on accident in his face, or when you accidentally lean a little too far forward into his own personal space. You even have the audacity to look up at him and say that you’re not even that high.

Oh but if you could see yourself through his eyes, you’re absolutely fucking baked. Pretty eyes glazed and red rimmed while you drink the water bottle he offers you, watching as a small droplet makes its way down from the corner of your mouth. You put the bottle down, “s’kay Min.” You slur and he knows he’s got you.

He reaches over and wipes the water away and you swear he’s unbuttoning his shirt when you’re not looking because there’s no way he just casually shows that much of himself to you. “You’re so pretty” he whispers, the pad of his thumb grazing over your bottom lip before looking back up into your eyes.

The compliment catches you off guard and you’re not sure if it’s the marijuana that gives you courage or the fact you would do anything to get lost in Armin’s baby blue eyes but you allow your tongue to slip out licking the pad of his thumb before he’s pushing it into your mouth. You immediately suck and Armin finally gives you a smirk that has arousal pooling in your belly. You let go of his finger and he presses his lip against yours, immediately you let his tongue in when you feel it against your lips, your hands finding the remaining buttons on his shirt and quickly pulling it apart.

Armin knows he’s got you where he wants you. Pretty thing like you walking into his house with sleep shorts, tank top, and no bra? He knew you wouldn’t protest when he started to roll the joint for you, knew that you’d smoke the entire joint because you haven’t felt this fucking relaxed in a while. He’d call you pretty while your eyes are all red and your mind seems hazy.

Your hands run along the taut muscles of his abdomen, and he’s pushing you back towards his bed. His thigh slotted in between your thighs and you fight the urge to grind down on it, knowing that he could probably feel how wet you would get just at his fleeting touches that set your skin on fire. He kisses your lips one last time before kissing your neck, teeth nipping at your pulse point just to get you to squirm.

Then he feels it.

The warmth of your pretty little pussy on his thigh and fuck he can’t wait to feel you. He wants a taste, his mouth waters at the thought of your honeyed essence on his tongue and coating his chin, how your hands must feel in his hair and what your breathy moans would sound like panting out his name.

He pulls your shirt up, pinching one of your nipples while wrapping his lips around the other, tongue flicking the hardening bud before continuing his descent on your body. Both of his hands are on your tits while he plants warm kisses along your stomach, making sure to tease along the waistband of your sleep shorts.

He’s quick to adjust the both of you, pulling you closer to the foot of the bed by your ankles before kneeling in between your pussy.

“Armin, wait—” whatever plea you had for him dies in your throat when you feel his nose press along your clothes folds, inhaling your sweet scent. He presses a kiss to it, whispering praises barely loud enough for you to hear. Telling you how pretty you look and asking to let him taste you even though he’s already pulling your shorts and panties down your legs. He groans when your cunt, mutters something about how cute your pretty pussy looks. His knuckle coming up to swipe at your slit, groaning when your slick covers it and how sensitive you are under his touch.

You feel him lick a stripe along your folds, your thighs squishing his face before strong arms come to keep you in place. You’re not allowed to interrupt him, not while he’s enjoying himself.

His lips wrap around your clit, using his fingers to reveal it to him, the sensation has you mewling and arching your back into his face. His tongue swirls around the bundle of nerves until your hands find his hair. Your fingers carding through his soft blonde locks while you beg and plead for more. He lets go of your clit in favor of licking your slit, he moans when he finally gets a taste of you, tongue wandering into your gummy walls while his nose hits your puffy clit over and over again. Your mewls are getting louder and you're begging for more, for something more because you need to cum, he has to let you cum.

Armin pulls away and you sob out to him, “Min, please, need to cum, make me cum, please.”

He can’t say no, not when his chin is covered in your slick and his cock twitches every time you plead and whine his name. He holds your legs apart, delivering a quick slap to the inside of your thigh when you attempt to close them when the pad of his middle finger finds your clit. “Keep you legs open.” He says, voice low and gravely. He doesn’t waste time, inserting his middle finger to his knuckle. The feeling of you tight, velvety walls around his digit makes his dick twitch and serve as an aching reminder that he’s not done with you yet, he won’t let you leave after this. Not until he gets to bury himself deep into the velvet of your pussy.

The muscles of his arm are protruding with the pace he sets as he finger fucks you, his lips wrapped around your clit and he begins to suck and you swear you’re in another fucking dimension with how euphoric you feel. The weed in your system makes you extra sensitive and Armin can feel another gush of your arousal all over his hand.

“Armin, fuck,fuck,fuck!”

“Give it to me, baby, wanna see you cream all over my fingers come on.”

He has to see it, inserting his ring finger and adding to your pleasure when he finds that spongey little spot inside of you that has you arching into his touch again. He takes it has his cue to lick and suck on your abused bud again, watching how pretty you look when your voice fails you and your scream goes silent as you cum around his fingers, eyes crossing as you finally give him what he wants.

“Atta girl, squeezing my fingers so tight.”

He slowly pulls his fingers out, eyes fixed on the translucent strings webbing his fingers together before he stands up. You hear the sound of him undoing his zipper before you register what he’s actually doing. With the strength you have you find his hands, watching as he takes off the remainder of his clothes, throwing them somewhere in his room.

Your mouth goes dry when your eyes land on his cock, you didn’t expect him to be so big, to have a pretty vein adorning either side of his shaft and his tip a pretty shade of bubblegum pink with a bead of precum decorating it.

“Armin, wait” you scoot back from him, “m’ still sensitive” you remind him. Your words are slurred and it doesn’t stop Armin from craning his head down and kissing you. Making you taste yourself while he hooks his hands under your thighs, exposing your pussy to his greedy eyes. “You’ll be okay, just be good for me yeah?”

Those blue eyes meet yours again and you’re positive you’re drowning in them. His pupils blown wide as he aligns himself with your drooling entrance, he hooks your legs over his shoulders, finding your hands and pinning them beside your head. He slowly inches himself forward, reveling in the feeling of your gummy walls stretching around his girth. He fights the urge to cum as your pussy flutters around him, he looks down at you, completely fucked out and eyes beginning to water as he slowly pulls back before thrusting into you again.

He lets go of your hands, one of them pushing your thighs into your chest while he brings the pads of his middle and ring fingers to prod at your lips, “suck” he demands, slowing his thrusts to allow you to wrap your lips around them. You taste yourself on his skin, tongue skillfully running along his nails and swirling around both of them.

“Is this why you texted me? Couldn’t get your stupid cunt fucked by Jaeger?” You don’t reply, still sucking on his fingers while he delivers a harsh snap of his hips against yours, he feels the vibrations of your whine, shoving his fingers further into your mouth a smirking when he feels your throat constrict around them.

“Eren doesn’t like easy sluts like you.”

He roughly pulls his fingers out of your mouth, gripping your cheek harshly and making your skin sticky with your own spit. “Keep your fucking mouth open.” You hear him gathering saliva in his mouth before his spit lands on your tongue. You swallow it without being asked, eyes rolling into the back of your skull when he begins his harsh pace again.

“Wonder what he’d say, if he saw you fucking his best friend right now. He said you were so cute, you know?” Both palms are on the back of your thighs, he’s pushing them impossibly close to your chest and letting his weight fall on top of you with each thrust. “Bet he doesn’t know that a little weed gets you desperate for cock huh?”

“m’not desperate” you slur, he slaps the back of your thighs, sending pleasurable pain shooting through your body. “Want me to call him in here? Have him see you cream all over my fucking cock?”

You nod no, but the way your cunt squeezes Armin’s length lets him know all that he needs to.

“Filthy bitch, you’d like that wouldn’t you?” He cranes his head down again, sloppily kissing you and allowing his tongue to explore your mouth, groaning when he feels your hands pulling his biceps closer to you. You turn your head away from him, sputtering a bit before begging for more, for Armin to fuck you harder, faster.

He doesn’t let you finish your sentence, his pace never faltering as he watches your face contort in pleasure. Mouth falling open and brows knitting together while you moan loud enough for anyone to hear if they were to walk by the door. You can feel the head of his dick kiss your cervix with each thrust, “say my name” he grits.

He can feel your gummy walls fluttering, he knows your close, still sensitive from the previous orgasm and from the weed you smoked earlier. Your mind is spinning and you feel so dizzy, so fucking good as Armin continues to fuck you.

“Armin! Cum inside, fuck, cum inside please!”

Hook, line, sinker.

Who knew that’s a joint is all it took to get you in bed, he almost feels bad that Eren couldn’t get to this point with you. His loss is his gain, he’d make sure that the only name you moan from now on is his, he’ll make sure Eren hears you high pitched squeals for Armin to spill himself inside of you.

“Yeah? You want me to cum inside of you? Fill your pretty little pussy up?” He groans when he feels you squeeze him again, your nails biting into the skin of his forearm as you let out a string of pleads for him to not stop.

“What if I knock you up huh? Give you a fuckin’ baby so all you can think about is me from now on?”

The fear in your eyes spurs him on, his fingers finding your sore clit until he can feel your legs trembling against him. The way he circles your bud paired with his harsh thrusts sends you over the edge, back arching and a silent sob escaping your throat while you gush all over Armin’s cock, “Fuck yeah, give it to me, dirty bitch”

“Armin! Cumming!” You squeal as if he didn’t know, Armin isn’t too far after you, keeping his words and spewing curses out as he empties his hot seed inside of you. You moan pulling Armin in for a kiss while his cock pulsates inside of you, both of you reveling in each other and your highs.

Your breathing labored as he slowly lets your legs fall against the bed. He stays buried inside of you, watching as you fight your sleep.

“Hey, stay with me for a bit, yeah? Gotta clean you up.”

You nod, closing your eyes but listening to him go to his bathroom and coming back with a warm washcloth. The warmth of the washcloth feels good against your skin, Armin adjusts you on his bed before pulling you up and helping you to the bathroom.

“You okay?”

“Mhmm” you hum, looking up at him while he helps you sit down, telling you where everything is before walking out to give you privacy.

He begins to pick up both of your clothes, setting them aside while he adjusts the bed for you to sleep in. He isn’t that heartless, he’s sure he’ll talk to you before you go home tomorrow, even if you manage to slip out before he wakes he knows you’ll be back, after all it’s not like you know anyone else that would sell to you.

He picks up the clothes again, your panties falling onto the floor. He looks up to make sure you’re still in the bathroom so you don’t see where he keeps your panties, it’s not like you would need them anyway.

He throws the rest of the clothes into his laundry basket, finding his phone to look for Eren’s contact.

[2:02am]You’re right, y/n is really cute.

[2:02am] She’s staying with me tonight.

“Who are you texting?”

Your voice startles him, he smiles before getting up to help you into his bed.

“No one important. Trust me”

[eclvpses]

Though he hadn’t had much of a chance to think it over thus far, Leo regularly had to pontificate over where they’d gone wrong in his relationship with Stuart. One day they’d been smoking a joint in the back of the van Leo’d borrowed from Steve, and then next they were blocked. Honest to God blocked - which Leo wasn’t immune to or anything, it happened to them just as much as the next person. More, if he was being realistic. But the timing and sudden change in their relationship had been what stunned Leo. Either Stuart had been too frantic while blocking their number that he hadn’t thought to do the same with their socials or he wanted Leo to reach out just to have the gratification of capturing Leo’s attention before cutting off the rest of their communication, but either way, Leo had gotten the message. They used to check and see if they were finally let out of jail, whittling the situation down to a mere joke, but then a week had passed by, and then a month. As far as Leo knew, he was still shunned, and Stuart’s sudden snarkiness made it clear it was intentional - and then some.

Are you fucking serious right now? What a loaded question. All Leo could do in response to that was blink daftly - if they were in a cheesy cartoon, each blink would be followed by a plucky ping that would reverberate through the whole room. They knew they weren’t a genius by any stretch of the imagination, but this was starting to feel a bit targeted. Drinks arriving mid rant, Leo continued to hold eye contact while picking theirs up, tongue slowly pushing past their lips in an attempt to reel the straw into their mouth. They weren’t nearly drunk enough for whatever fight Stuart was apparently trying to have, words growing in volume like a pressure cooker finally steaming over. “Y’know, Stuart,” Leo finally said, giving them a placating and frankly condescending look - there was pity mixed in, like they could only assume Stuart was having some sort of stress related breakdown and taking it out on Leo, “I say this because I care. But you are absolutely no fuckin’ fun anymore. Jesus Christ! Like, I have no idea what’s got your panties in such a twist, but have you tried, I don’t know. Relaxing? Getting laid? Drink more, it’s good for you.” Awful advice, but it was followed by a push of Stuart’s drink closer to him. “I’m not exactly married to this girl, if you wanted to talk to her or something I’m not gonna stop you.” Because that’s what was wrong - not Leo’s terrible outlook of this date.

“Do you think?” Stuart was openly mocking Leo. It would’ve been obvious to the world’s most dense person that Stuart was loudly and aggressively poking fun - in the most brutal way possible - of Leo���s incapability to read the room. But they viewed this as a talent of theirs, only encouraging them further when they turned to Stuart with a hopeful glint in their eyes. “Fuck, that’d make my life a lot fuckin’ easier if she was. I don’t actually know how to fake an epileptic seizure -.” As if her ears were ringing and she could tell they were discussing her, Leo felt a sudden tug at his shirt sleeve by the elbow followed by a put out "Hey!" They weren’t exactly proud of the squawk they produced, whirling around to stare at her, wide eyed and caught. “Everything okay? I’ve been waiting for you for, like… ever.” Given Stuart’s current frustration towards Leo, the best thing would’ve been if they fucked off and just carried on with the date, boring or not. But they were just lamenting about how Stuart wasn’t fun anymore, so that option would’ve been frankly hypocritical of them. “Hi, yes - apologies. You see, I’ve just… reunited with an old lover.” Looping an arm around Stuart’s waist, Leo tugged him into their side, all but forcing him into the narrative that he seemed to hate enough to get upset with Leo over. “It was very hot and heavy between us before his papa -,” said like puh-paw, as if they were some English Victorian child, “- made it clear his sinful ways were for the devil only. But we’ve only just seen each other again for the first time in months and it’s become clear our hearts still yearns for each other. You understand, right?” Understandably lost, Leo pinched Stuart’s side when their date gave him a glance, raising her brows as if to ask 'Is this guy for real?'

It was a shame, the way Stuart and Leo’s friendship had taken a turn for the worse. They had a lot in common: their free-spirited thinking, lack of ability to read the room, and slightly dubious morals—but there were differences in the latter, too, as it was apparent in Stuart’s newfound cold attitude towards Leo. It wasn’t that forgiveness was a foreign concept to him; his brain was simply wired to hold grudges until the end of time. There was no letting go of them either. They would simply stay dormant for the time being until someone wronged him again, unleashing them tenfold, and Leo was most definitely not helping their case right now. “You smell like conversion therapy. Thanks! I don’t like men anymore.” Which couldn’t have been further from the truth and they both knew it. Even though their relationship had been strictly platonic, Stuart’s attraction to Leo was almost glaringly obvious since the very beginning. They were charming, that much was impossible to deny, and fun. He liked people who were unapologetic about themselves, people who were unpredictable and interesting, people that didn’t live by somebody else’s rules. But there was also that dangerously thin line between them and those who didn’t seem to take others’ feelings into consideration, and Leo had crossed it by sleeping with someone he had feelings for. Yet, it was somehow more upsetting that they hadn’t fessed up to it or acknowledged how it could’ve hurt him, and his own grudge had skewed his perception of Leo into one of a heinous beast.

Though he’d been staring blankly at the bottles behind the bar for the majority of the conversation, Stuart was quick to turn and face Leo following their comment about Gabe, and scoffed in disbelief. “Are you actually, like, fucking serious right now?” He wasn’t sure if Leo had genuinely forgotten the number of socks on their doorknob whenever they’d come over to pregame, not that he felt the need to defend his relationship with Gabe, or if they were taunting him on purpose. Either way, their attitude was starting to piss him off all over again. “Do you think the entire fucking world revolves around you? You think this girl you can’t even bother learning the name of has latched onto your cock so hard that she won’t be able to let go without you acting like a drama queen? Dude, she’s probably texting her friend right now to fake an emergency.” Stuart whipped an imaginary phone out, twiddling his thumbs on it as if he were texting. “S-O-S, bestie! They look like they just came off a four-night bender and I have yet to say anything but my name that he already forgot. Feral with lust, my ass.” Stuart took pride in the fact that it wasn’t all that easy to tick him off, but once he was on that roller-coaster ride, getting him off of it was like trying to wrestle a baby’s hand off your thumb. Nearly impossible. “Fuck you, Leo. Seriously.”

[plush-rabbit]

Protecting Mammon - Headcanons

Request: Hc for Mammon with a s/o that is usually very laid back and calm,, but whenever one of Mammons brother's mock him, reader gets super defensive of him, they're somewhat of a guard dog for him? And reader goes out of their way to compliment and be affectionate towards him in his brothers presence? (Also could you do Male reader? Thank you, i love your writing!!)

A/N: Let MC say fuck!! Please, i wrote a similar one, sort of,, like a while ago but i really want MC to stand up for him, please (aso i left this gn i hope you don’t mind!!) (one too many insults breaks my heart, like if my mc were there id make them all give away their possessions to him)

-

It isn’t easy to hear the brothers argue. Their voices boom that you think that the walls are going to collapse onto themselves, but you grow accustomed to it as you have with everything else about them. However, something doesn't come as easy. While they all insult each other, there’s always a playful toone attached to their words,a gentle shove and a wicked smile as they laugh when the other bites back. It’s different with mammon. It’s always been different with him. At first you assumed that was how they talked with each other- every sibling fights, lovingly known as the Cain Instinct in the Human Realm, not that you’d ever mention it to them. But, their words hold venom, they hit where it hurts for him, they tease and treat him horribly and it leaves a horrible taste on your tongue- it reminds you when you were small and you were forced to swallow that awful purple medicine that no matter what you drank, the taste just lingered. You wonder how long Mammon has had to hear those words.

You can always tell when the insults get taken too far, when they start to get personal and the words aren’t jokingly said or even in a teasing way, but they’re said out of anger and like the brothers that they are, they all start to gang up on the second eldest. The brothers joke and you can tell that it bothers Mammon by the way his jaw tightens and the roll of his eyes, the way that he starts to get quiet. You can only do the one thing you can think of- you hold his hand. He looks at you quickly, his brows raising and eyes glancing down to your interlocked hands as his lips quirk upwards. During that time, you pull him away, asking in a very loud voice that you need him to accompany you to your room or to a store. When the other brothers try to intervene, stating that they’ll walk you, you shut them down, pulling Mammon close to you, standing in front of him acting as a shield to protect him from his brothers. You want to protect him, to take him away from the insults and the mean words of his brothers.

Perhaps you’ll never know how much the words truly affect Mammon, everytime that you ask him, he just gives you a tight smile, shaking his head and squeezing your hand- a subtle hint to drop the subject. It makes you lay awake at night, wondering how a demon could be hurt by words. Everything about the words and brothers starts to leave a horrible taste in your mouth. A part of you even blames yourself- you know how he was teased mercilessly when he was tricked into forging a pact with you, but the thought of not having a pact with him makes your heart ache in a way that you didn’t know it could. He’ll like in your bed, a loose t-shirt on him as he lets out deep breaths, his chest rising and dipping with an arm over your stomach. Soon it becomes when there’s a snide comment, you give a curl of your lip and look of disgust.

The lack of sleep that you gain from overthinking about the pact and the brothers leaves you in an irritable mood. You start to resent the brothers, frowning and pulling away from them and even if Beelzebub isn’t involved in the teasing, he isn’t too bothered by it unless the insults really start to hurt. Leviathan and Asmodeus are perhaps the worst, Satan a close second- or third- if were to tattle on Mammon, but the two aforementioned brothers remain the cruel ones, insulting him and spewing filthy words that makes your face burn with anger that you wonder if Satan could feel it stewing deep in you. It hurts to pull away from the brothers but you don’t like how they treat your demon.

At a certain point, pulling him away from the brothers isn’t enough. Holding his hand is something you enjoy, and it must be a sort of release for him because you take notice of how he remains staring at you despite the onslaught of words thrown his way. With a careful glance given to the third eldest who rants on about how Mammon had stolen something- which you were sure he hadn’t, you’d been with him during the time frame that Leviathan accuses- you lift his hand and kiss his knuckles, letting your lips ghost over them. When you feel his breath hitch, your smile, turning his hand over and placing a kiss to his palm, moving to let his palm cradle your cheek as you lean into him. The arguing stops and you can feel eyes on you, but you can also feel the way that mammon’s heart echoes softly against your ear, how his hand slowly moves to hold yours once more.

No matter the amount of times that you’ve complimented him, he always reacts the same, as if it were the first time you told him something nice. His cheeks are tinted in a dark color, his face burning and heart beating erratically despite you telling him sweet things. You sit on his lap, pulling him close as you play with his hand, each line traced over carefully with a touch that tickles his palm. He jokes at first, telling you that of course you’d compliment him, he is after all The Great Mammon, but there’s a smile that lingers, stretched wide across his face as he leans back and keeps a hand on you, taking great pleasure in hearing you say something nice.

Every insult is refuted with a compliment. He’s called a scumbag, you call him your protector. He’s called greedy, he’s reassured that his sin is something that is difficult to control. He’s told to never come home, you cup his face in your hands and tell him that you’d follow him anywhere- a heavy implication that stays on your tongue and when he nods slowly, you hold him tight, grateful that he understood what you wanted to tell him. You hold him close, his door locked as the movie plays, the colors flashing across his room until they fade. The desperate part of you needs to tell him everything, to repeat every compliment until they drown out the insults. You need him to smile.

They’re brothers and you know that, but it doesn’t lessen the blow. You make sure you spend more time with him, to show that he’s your number one and your favorite. It might be cruel, but they’ve been cruel to him. You want to keep him safe. When the insults start to worsen, you bite back. You scowl and tense your shoulders, your hands fisted tightly leaving crescent shaped marks against your skin. The words might not be cruel- you don’t think that you would want them to feel that sort of pain, nor would it do any good towards Mammon- but you tell them to be quiet, glaring at them and looking away immediately.

Sooner rather than later, the brothers catch on. Every insult is met with a kiss, your lips pressed against his cheek or your hand pulling him away, locked behind a door where they cannot enter. They sulk and pout, they try to pull you away, but you can’t leave Mammon’s side. Not that you would ever choose to do so. You stick by him, pulling him close and sitting beside him, your attention stuck on him. He’s your demon, why would you ever want to be pulled away from him? You keep him close, hugging on his arm and telling him how he’s been so much help to you. Mammon keeps you in his arms, you smile shining at him, and you pay attention to him. You kiss at his wounds and run your hands through his hair. You pull him close to your chest, your words soft as you tell him how warm he is. He loves the attention, the kindness that you give to him, the way that such a small and delicate human can stand up against demons and fight back all to protect one. He lays against you, sinking into your own warmth and taking it greedily, loving the way that you feel pressed against him.

Greed personified is not easy to please- he wants it all, craves it and yet, he can’t have it. It sits on his palm but he is unable to close his fist to truly claim it. Yet, you sit beside him, eating a meal at the dinner table as the ruckus continues on, your hand clasped tightly around him and when he turns to look at you, he squeezes your hand. He holds it tightly, feeling your hand tighten a moment later as you turn to him, your cheeks puffed with food still your mouth as you smile at him. You remain in his hand- whole and ever beating with a smile that is forever etched in the demon’s mind.

[anonymous-harpy]

I did more DBZ Human AU art and massively updated Baby-Vegeta Yōji's backstory and lore as well as added some more GT to this AU. And did a few things with @amiz06-certified-b1mb0's Cooler again.

I tried my best to emulate the magazine cover style for these two pictures... Btw that Cold/Cell art uh... Helped me to draw Yōji's moosley chest.

I have miss spelled Tusfruain too many times, it'll just keep changing until I settle into using one singular spelling. Like Saulza's name

My boy's main looks... *Screams in all the flaws I can't ignore*

But I do love the new looks. I gotta come up with more suitable looks based on his alt Fighterz skins ...

Uhm, but LORE TIME:

Yōji is still has his tragic backstory of watching his family murdered and is out there get revegences.

The major revision here is that while he was an orphan, he did end up with a decent family that instilled him with morals (I'ma just slide this currently incomplete fic in right here, Vanguardian on AO3 ) so he's just trying to get his hands on Vegeta… so there some moral conflict about taking him out since he's got kids… but not enough to dissuade him still.

And rather than Yōji being the one to build his own criminal empire from the ground up, he's just very effective at smooth talking and schmoozing his way to take things over in one fell swoop. Like a parasite. Well he watched his family's meger estate be viciously dismantled once it was just him, a little kid. He's a fast learner you know. Helps to have hyperthymesia

I was looking for a way to explain how he could keep up with everyone given his altered backstory, weonlyneedonepersontobecalledperfect i figured being able to remember everything would suit my needs. Jack of all trades master of none? How about just jack of all trades with incompetent lackeys to fuck up your plans….

Because of course he can't do everything himself and has had to come to rely on others -which he despises. He installs willing puppets wherever he goes, to get whatever he needs (or wants) and he knows how to get things done, though it's often a bit messy since he's impatient. So flies on the walls of important people? Yeah that sounds about right.

And to revise how he came to meet Cooler- 

 Well Yōji was looking into Capsule Crop for information about Vegeta and the company's many rivals (I'm assuming that RR Army and of course the Real estate Lizards are the main/only ones soooooo), and part of that investigation meant planting spies and possibly breaking into a good newspaper company to get more leads.

All of it yields useful stuff for the revengeance seeking Tusfruain… and the attention of a lot of people. Not directly of course, but everyone knows that someone is up to something and starts looking into it. Helps that he's unconcerned with changing his appearance to avoid attention. The only problem is is someone caught a fussy picture of him (prolyBuuifwerebeinghonest), and while it's not enough to link to anything just yet, Hercule directs to defamation to Yōji's Blackstar and Business persona and so a target's painted on his back.

Though luckily Yōji doesn't mind tweaking his appearance and it's uncannily easy to walk around disguised as Vegeta.

And while Yōji was out and about parading as Vegeta he's spotted by my favorite squad and is followed back to one of his many "legitimate" business. A "club" is a very loose term that he's unafraid to stretch the meaning of as far as he can legally take it. Honestly though while he's completely heartless in GT I'm gonna say he's actually decent to his regular employees, looks out for them and all that… though he still gonna scream and shout at Para Brothers when they fuck up

(You're always meaner towards your family than you are strangers. "Familiarity breeds contempt"). I mean he couldn't do anything without the cash flow, so there's not reason to not make sure everything covered.

Anyhow, while in the middle of washing out the temporary dye, our best boys break down the door of the office with they best boss in tow and Yōji responds to being cornered by four strong fighters in only the way you would expect from someone who got their finger caught in the cookie jar: lies through his bloody teeth to spin things around to his favor.

He's a parasite for a reason…

Somehow, and after getting the snot beat out of him by Cooler they come to a sort of agreement: Yōji's aligning himself with Cooler's family -though not publicly or in an overly obvious fashion because Yōji's trying to cause a serious scandal that doesn't to be traced back to them. And in return Yōji doesn't get beat up even more or have his "good name" immediately esposed and tied to all the city vices he's servicing.

And at some point along the way Yōji and Cooler go tit for tat back and forth for little favors (Yōji doesn't worry about getting caught gathering information through brute force or unusual methods for Cooler and in return Yōji gets property to buy through his shell companies), Which eventually turns into bigger ones that ultimately leave Yōji with enough dirt on Cooler that they're on equal footing again. AKA, Yōji used one of his shell companies to sponsor Cooler's band and the parasite loves to remind Cooler that he got outplayed in the long run.

Not that Yōji really asks for anything major. He just likes pissing off Cooler til he's mad enough to want to hurt him…

This is a dynamic… and I have no idea why I decided on this for any Coolbabe stuff I have… but it's what I got going for me. And I stand by my unhinged parasite and his endless faults.

I cannot accurately convey Yōji's height... but honestly that makes this so much better.

I've got a couple more ideas to doddle, but honestly I've got other things to get to... Including but not limited to making use of the Colgate twins in this AU.

Alright back to the void I go!