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hoshigray · 1 year

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Back at it with pt. ii of the assassin duo! Toji x reader (finally!!): where the reader avoids Toji after the one-night stand, and it goes well for the most part. But can the same be said for Toji? How long can this quiet game go before someone snaps?

A/n: Am I writing this because I'm spitful of getting a community label on my sugar daddy! Toji x sugar baby! reader fic? Yes. Yes, I am. 🙃 Sighhh. But ya know what, it's all good because you lovelies gave it so much love, so tysm for 3k notes!!! And thank you so much for the 300+ followers!! Y'all are too kind~~~ Since I have no idea how to celebrate, I guess another poll will suffice so pick whichever prompt you'd like to see for next Thursday (as well as a bonus art from me hehe)!!!

Also, for context's sake, this is pt. ii of this drabble that I have written, so please give it a read if you ever feel confused. This fic was long overdue and is WAY longer than I EVER intended for it to be, so I apologize for this hefty piece of work. I do hope you like it tho!!

Also, also: @absoluteindulgence here ya go!! just as I promised ccc:

Cw: dom! Toji x fem! reader - fingering (fem! receiving) - Toji gets a bit possessive/jealous - sex in a public place (workplace) - biting - clitoral play (pinches 2x) - Toji is his coky self but reader doesn't back down - implied overstimulation (fem! receiving) - pet names (angel, angel face, baby, darlin', good girl, honey, sweetie, sweetheart, sweet thing) - third party interruptions (they don't walk in on you two doing the deed tho) - kissing session - edging (fem! receiving) - Toji steals your panties bc he's a cheeky asshat - ayoo Toji and reader catching feelings.

Wc: 5.1k (omfg I'm so sorry y'all lmao)

The last time you ran into Toji was the "I'll treat you for dinner with nothing attached" mishap you got yourself into. How can you not ridicule yourself for getting caught in such a moment? The man you hate with every fiber in your being practically had you folded like a pretzel, chuckling and teasing you in your most vulnerable state as he used your body in his way fit.

The most unpleasant thing about it was you reminiscing about those intimate moments you had with him that night. When his hot groans made you squeeze tighter on his dick. His thick fingers in your mouth play with your tongue as he kisses the nape of your neck from the back. When you hold him for support while he pounds into your wet folds, the naughty sounds make you bury your face into the crook of his neck.

Or worse: as Toji had his way with you, he called you the sweetest names as if he truly meant them, like he wouldn't mind calling you by them for the rest of his days.

Images of that night continue to haunt you, especially within the confines of your own home, in your own bed. How many nights has it been since you've fought the urge to touch yourself and failed? Losing count says quite a lot.

"Hnngh, shit shit shit...Fuck, y/n, you don't know what you're doing to me, baby." His voice is present in your mind as your fingers rub your clit. You shut your eyes close once you enter a digit inside your opening. "Awwh, are you embarrassed, angel? Don't wanna look me in the eye? No? Heh, then what are you grippin' 'round me for..." Another digit enters between your folds, and you grip your bedsheets while the memories still play in your head. "Damn, sweetie, lookin' so beautiful fr' me, ya know that?" Faster and faster your fingers go, your sensitivity inching higher and higher. "My beautiful darlin'."

And then you release. Cum slides down your inner thighs as your legs shake, your dignity and shame staining the dry sheets.

Damn you, Toji Fushiguro. Through gritted teeth and tears swelling up, you swear to not get mixed with that man from here on out.

And you do just that. Anytime you saw him within the same corridor or room, you would ghost him as if his familiar tall, solid build could never catch your eye. You'd go on about your business, onto the next task, onto the next client.

You didn't even take his missions anymore, nor did he for yours. Everything was going back to where it was before this incident of yours. As if you two never acknowledged each other in the first place.

It was for the best, at least that's what you told yourself. You had to get back to who you were previously, whether that meant being the top assassin or not. Whichever came first, as long as you were nowhere near him.

As for Toji, he could tell what game you were playing the moment your eyes no longer gave him the time of day. And Toji wasn't mad at it either; he preferred the "no feelings attached" approach. So he did his part to not get mixed into whatever you were doing, missions and all.

But as much Toji tries not to, he can't stop thinking about you. The way your hips sway when you walk past him, your voice soft yet stern when conversing with your handler, and when you check your small hands to see if you adequately cleaned off the blood from the mission prior.

His mind can only think of your wrists trapped under his single hand while he stuffs his fingers into your mouth with the other. Your legs and ass tremble as you ride him. Doing your best not to be too loud, but oh, Toji wants you loud. He wants you to let him know he's making you mewl and shriek, not giving a damn if the whole world knows as well. "Haaah—Ahhh!! T-Toji, please...I'm gonna cum, if you keep—Ohhh!"

Hearing you, kissing you, holding you, all of it. All of you. If he could have you close to him, he'd be as swift as a blink of an eye.

But again, he preferred this way. Less trouble, more work.

And it was going pretty alright.

Well, until you start going on missions with other hitmen.

Although your diligent work ethic and astute experience led you to the top, you've also gained respect and admiration from your colleagues, especially your junior subordinates.

And now that you seemed to stop associating yourself with Toji, some of the other guys tried to use this to their advantage to get closer to you and request your aid for some of their tasks.

And who are you to say no to helping others who wish to improve? There's no wrong in doing so.

Except there is a wrong. Its name is Toji Fushiguro, and the last straw was when he saw one of the juniors try to take you out to dinner (to which you declined, of course). He needed to stop this before some poor rookie's head decorated some walls.

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Another day goes by, and you go down the hallway from a meeting with your handler, only to see Toji leaning on a wall. You've done this dance several times now. Just keep walking. You walk past him like nothing, easy peasy. Now onto the next task and go see-

"Y/n."

You stop in your tracks when someone calls out to you. No, you know who it was that said your name. It's been a while since you've heard his husky voice. You sigh and continue walking.

Toji's brows furrow. Unless you were seeing things he wasn't, you two were obviously the only people in this hall. Stopping at the sound of his voice is evidence that you're aware of his existence. Yet you move right along.

That's strike one.

He gets up from the wall and follows behind you. Toji stares at your figure, and he knows you can sense him. He huffs, cursing you that you got him following you like some lovestruck schoolboy.

"Y/n." He tries it again.

You didn't stop this time, your face in the direction you were heading.

That's strike two.

Toji sucks his teeth. Now this is getting annoying. He takes five giant steps and places his hand on your shoulder, gripping it so you can stop at that spot. "Yo!!" He doesn't bother hiding his irritation.

"Hey!"

You free your shoulder from his hand in a swift motion, smacking his arm away. It was a small action, but it gave you enough leeway to hop a few extra meters away from him.

However, Toji was way quicker than that.

He grabs and pins you onto the wall of the hallway corner. You wince as the pain is slight, yet nothing too life-threatening. But that can't be said for the look Toji was giving you. Black brows are pulled down, and his forest-green eyes affirm that he's livid.

Strike three it is.

"I fucking dare you to try and get yourself out of this one," His rough hands are now on your shoulders, but they're keeping you in one place this time. "Try it."

A displeased frown paints your face. "Oh? Are you challenging me? I thought you'd have half the brain to know that's not a good idea."

He sneers at your attempt at sounding threatening. It always worked with others, but never with him. He found you adorable for always trying. "Hmph, your sassy mouth loves to spit out venom," Toji leans his face in, his nose almost touching yours. "Thought I fucked that attitude right out of ya."

You bring a knee to his groin, but again, Toji is one step ahead. Grabbing your leg and pulling it up with one hand while he uses the other to hold your wrists above your head.

Your eyes widen. This position, the memories, it's all coming back to you.

Pull yourself together, damn it!

"Tch, what is this about now, you reckless bear?" You glare at the man, trying to stay calm in this predicament.

"I'm fine playing the avoiding game—"

"You don't seem fine about it now." You cut him off.

"I wonder who's to blame for that."

"What the hell did I do? I carried on with my work and left you alone. Everything was going back to how it used to—"

"I don't think you avoiding me and going on other missions with other guys used to happen."

How you fought the urge to roll your eyes amazed you. "What are you, an elementary schooler? Why does it matter to you what I do with my time?"

"Shut up. You know I've been in this field longer than you have, and when you came into the picture, you always chose to be alone."

"Again," your patience wears thin by the second. "Why does it matter to you?"

Silence. He just stares at you as anger dwindles out bit by bit, but he's in his thoughts as his eyes hone in on yours.

"Well?" You press on while he's stumped. "Why?"

No answer, averting his eyes to the side like he'd find the answer there. Then, they come back to your face. Or rather, your lips.

Your breath hitches. "Fushiguro?"

His emerald eyes return to yours, yet his irritation is clouded in a softer tone. Those eyes now express the hooded look from that night. Toji places your leg onto his shoulder and leans closer to you.

"Fushigu—"

"Shhh," His deep voice sounded more demanding when hushed. "Let me have this. Have you."

His lips press onto yours before you deny him. Toji finally frees your hands to cup your face, and his tongue runs through your teeth, waiting for permission to enter. You should be fighting this. You have to fight it. But your mouth opens for him, and your hands grab his shoulders for stability.

You moan sweetly when he slides his tongue into yours, your balance starting to fail you. "I'm still on one leg, you asshole." You manage to say in-between kisses.

Toji laughs a bit before changing your position, pressing your back against the wall with your legs wrapped around him. Once you're comfortable, he's back on attacking your lips. It gets rougher and more passionate, teeth clashing and biting your bottom lip.

He groans when a hand pulls on his hair, his hands grope on your ass lovingly. He breaks up the kiss, you two catching your breath. He gazes at you, "You too, huh?"

Your lips quiver when you turn away from him and nod. He snickers. "Look at you being all shy. You were talking with a lot of sass not too long ago, and now you can barely look at me." He draws his face closer to your neck, giving it sweet kisses and tiny bites that cause you to gasp. And Toji was enjoying your reactions. "Knowing that I'm the one that can make you like this — Mmmph, makes me want to fuck you here and now."

And that's what you want. You won't admit it, but he already knows that. The cooperation with him at this very moment proves it. You want him just as much as he does you.

"Y/n! Where are you?"

The two of you freeze when another voice comes from the other side of the hall. Then you remember a rookie who needed help with a mission today, and you were headed to see him right after your meeting. And now you're pressed between a wall and Toji fucking Fushiguro with your legs wrapped around his waist.

If he sees me like this with Fushiguro, I'm finished!

"T-Toji," your whisper grabs the older man's attention. "You have to put me down. They're waiting for me."

Toji squints at you and then a look of realization. The grin that creeps on his face alerts something in your brain, and you don't know if you like it or not. There's little time for you to come to a proper answer because Toji moves away from the wall and brings you along for the ride. Your arms hold around his neck so you don't fall off as he enters a room and locks the door.

You're now in a tiny conference room with the lights off, only the sunlight peeking through the blinds of the sole window in front of the round table.

"What are you doing, Fushigur—Ack!" Toji throws you onto the table. The pain from your head distracts you from the fact that he's pulling your pants off in immediate haste.

His chuckles sound dangerously low. "So you thought I'd just let you go on some mission when I already have you right where I want you?" Toji spreads your legs for your undergarments to be displayed, whistling at the lewd image of a damp spot on the piece of clothing. "Oh, sweetheart, not with these cute lil' panties of yours."

You were about to get up and grab for his neck, but a finger pushed into your pussy through the cloth. A squeal slips out, and you're quick to cover your mouth.

"Careful, princess," his big hands pull your panties off you, and they meet the cold floor. His middle and forefinger slide up and down between slick-coated cunt has you biting your lip, and Toji likes the determination. "Don't want whoever lookin' for you to walk in on us. This pussy is for my eyes to see only."

"Haaaah...You're such a bastard, Fushiguro—Ooohh!!" Toji pushes his finger into your clothed opening, his free hand coming in the clutch to cover your voice.

Toji leans close to your face with the vibrations of your mewls rippling through his palm while his thick digit plays with your slit. "I mean it, kid. Don't play with me." You nod meekly, and he kisses your forehead for your obedience.

"Hmm, I wonder where y/n went. Hopefully, they didn't forget..." You can hear the voice of your subordinate on the other side of the door as if he's directly in front of it.

Another finger is added into the mix, and tears start to form as you wince through the pain of your nether lips being stretched. You try calling out to Toji, yet it's no use with his big warm hand dwarfing your sobs.

He does remove it, though, using it to maneuver your head so he can lay kisses on your neck. Your choked hiccups sound like sweet notes to his ears. "So good fr' me, sweetie. You smell so fuckin' good. Who're you trying to pull?"

"No-No one...Ahhhh..." You answer in gasps while his digits scrape your inner walls, your mind turning to mush. "I'm not trying anything— Oh fuck..."

"Bullshit." Toji groans and bites your collarbone, and a sharp gasp leaves you. "All this attention, all these rookies gawkin' at you like you're their prize."

"Why? You jealous, Fushiguro?" It wasn't meant to be a snarky comment, yet there was some spice. The glare he gives you sends a chill down your spine. One is sent back to show that you're standing your ground despite the humiliation you're going through.

You're about to say some more; however, you hear the doorknob jolt, and the clench of your velvety walls around Toji's fingers doesn't go past him.

"Huh? Why's the door locked?"

The shock on your face lights a lightbulb for Toji as a big grin takes over him. "Yeah? This space is occupied." He calls out to the person behind the door, the petrified look on your face only fueling his mischievous fire.

"Oh shit, Mr. Fushiguro!?" He snickers at the other's response. "S-Sorry! I didn't mean to disrupt you! I was just looking for someone."

A brow is raised when Toji turns his head to the door. "Who?"

You send your knife-piercing eyes his way, but he still doesn't face you. This motherfucker...

"Y/n," the rookie replies sheepishly. "They said they'd help me and a partner of mine with a mission. But I haven't seen them for a while..."

Please don't ask where I am. Just go somewhere else—Oh God!!

Toji's fingers fasten the pace, and you quickly cover your mouth before the person, oblivious to your absence, gets any inclination of where you are. And it gets worse when Toji's thumb flicks your clit prompting a choked cry. Oh, he's such a cruel man.

Toji hums with a sly smile as he peers at your writhing figure. "Oh, really? Didn't know that."

"By any chance, do you know where they went?"

You can't vocally tell him anything, so you rely on your eyes to convey your anxious pleas, orbs begging him through streamed tears and hooded with shame.

But Toji won't let you off that easily because the fun has just started. He whispers, "Say my name, baby." You blink with scrunched brows. "Say my name like you did that night."

This is too fucking much for me! Your mind is going through waves of turbulence. Of all people to be in this situation with, it has to be the fucker getting a kick out of this!!

Before you think up another sentence, a stinging sensation jolts your body upwards to him. Toji sneers playfully as his fingers leave your soaked folds and pinch your clitoris, your reaction too adorable for him to not stop tormenting you. "C'mon, sweetheart, say my name with your cute ass voice."

Your mind is clouded in this euphoric atmosphere that you can feel the climax inching closer and closer. Your lips are now swollen from having to bite them constantly. Another pinch has you screaming in silence, and you're pushed to accept your fate and give him what he wants: your submission.

"Hic-T-Toji, please," eyes hooded in a fuzzy haze, you reach out for his face. He obliges as you caress his cheeks. "Too much, 's too —hic... too much..."

His jade orbs focus on your dazed expression. A smile pushes his scar up for his teeth to peek through. "There she is. That's my good girl." He draws in to kiss you, his body weight pushing you down on the cold table surface. However, a knock from the door behind him halts him from moving any further. Toji clicks his teeth. Fuckin' brat.

And he removes himself from you, especially his fingers that were warm inside your cunt. The sudden subtraction of them have you exclaiming in soft whimpers. The orgasm you were so close to achieving is ignored and slowly depletes. You feel as though you could cry through the sensitive.

Toji whispers a quick apology and licks his digits marinated with your fluid. Then he marches to the door and opens it enough for half of his body to be visible. The rookie jumps at the tall man looking at the other with the most terrifying scowl. "What?" His gruff voice carries authority, and your pussy throbs as you watch him handle the younger hitman.

"S-Sorry, sir! I asked if you've seen—"

"No, I haven't seen them. Why not ask their handler since they just had a meeting together."

"Oh, okay...Well, excuse me!" Your junior quickly bows at the intimidating senior and scampers out of the scene.

A heavy sigh leaves Toji as he closes and locks the door, "Fuckin' finally." The exasperated tone of his tone falters when he turns to you, replaced with the returning lust. "Now, where were we..." His hands undo the knot around his pants and loosen the hold around his hips.

When his dick is set free, you can't help but gawk at such a thing. Seeing it for the second time is just as — if not more — menacing as the first. The girth and size alone has your mind in a whirlwind, questioning how that even fit inside you in the first place.

Nevertheless, it's no use thinking about such matters because Toji aligns his cock around your folds. When he feels you tense at his veiny organ, he rubs your thighs tenderly to coax you. "Relax fr' me, angel." Hesitation is shown as you nod, but you even your breathing and prepare for him.

Toji pushes his length into you with every breath you take, and it's difficult to adjust to the foreign organ intruding into your poor hole. You grimace every time the tip is shoved against you. Tears finally fall down your face which are wiped by Toji's calloused fingers. "I know, honey, I know."

It feels like forever just having the tip of Toji's dick enter you, and when it does, oh, it does. A loud gasp exits your lips from the intrusion, and inaudible babbles fly out as he pushes his length, stretching your vulva as it ventures deep within you.

Toji, on the other hand, shivers as your inner walls clamp around his cock. "Jesus...This pussy is still so fuckin' tight." He hisses through gnashed teeth. Once the base of his member reaches your opening, you two take a moment to recollect yourselves.

"Hmmm, damn, I missed this." He grinds his hips into you, his hands posted on your hips to savor the clenching feeling of your pussy. "Heh, bet that brat of a subordinate wouldn't know how to handle you like I do."

Even with your mind foggy and senses at an all-time high, you give the older man a look of annoyance. You make your cunt squeeze hard on him, the unexpected action catching him by surprise as he lowers himself to you, using all his willpower not to cum so early.

Before he can curse you out for the unforeseen kegel, you cup his face to have him look at you. "For God's sake, can you not mention him while you're fucking me, Toji?" Your voice hushed for him to pay close attention, but your beautiful dazed expression distracts him. "I'm not thinking about anyone besides you."

You don't even give him a chance to his answer because you pull him into a kiss and moan sweetly into his mouth. He groans and slowly rocks his hips into a stable rhythm.

His thrusts gradually get faster and faster, rearranging your legs around his waist so you don't go sliding on the table surface. Your pants get sporadic, and your cries are a little louder than earlier. But not too loud for the whole building to hear, only for him.

The slap of his balls hitting your ass is so vulgar to the ears that you hide your face. "Cut that out, sweetheart," Toji wastes no time removing your hands and holds them down with his. A feeling of deja vu blossoms in the air. "Don't try hidin' away from me, baby. I want to see all of you."

A sudden burst of confidence fuels your sentence. "Then fuck me like you deserve all of me."

A fire is ignited in Toji, and a sudden deep thrust is thrown at you out of nowhere. Your sobs only propel him to continue piston his length into the deepest parts of your gummy walls.

The conference room is filled with nothing but the sound of your sexes smacking together, skin slapping against each other, and groans and moans in heavy puffs and pants.

"Haahh! Haaaaah!! Tojiii, Tojiiii," you whimper as his pumps go erratically fast, shivering beneath him as your legs cage him.

"Oh fuckin' shit," Toji curses with eyes shut, removing one hand from yours and snaking it down to your clit, using his fingers to press down on the sensitive bud.

Your orgasm climbs back up, and you want to claim it this time. "Toji, 'm gonna, gonna c—Ohhh!!"

"Yeah? Gonna cum for me, sweet thing? Gonna cum on my dick like the good girl you are?" You nod lazily. Toji doesn't buy it. "Use your words, baby. Is that what you want?"

"Yes, Toji, yes!! Please, I want it!!"

And he gives it to you as the pads of his fingers swipe on your bud rapidly. Your release comes crashing down on you when your cunt spasms around the girthy length. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, and your body jolts with every wave of pleasure.

Toji isn't far from his peak, so he doesn't stop pounding into you for a few seconds. The hilt of his cock slams into your slick-covered opening, and you cry from the impact on your aching chasm. He fills you up with his own come and rests his body on you. His heaving figure feels pleasant on top of you.

The two of you begin to calm down as you finish each other's climax. Toji breathes on the crook of your neck and leaves a trail of kisses. "Fuck, pussy felt way too fuckin' good —kiss— Don't think I'd like the idea of sharin' you with the rest."

You shake your head and chuckle at him, placing your hands behind his neck and playing with his hair. "Whatever you say, you possessive loser."

Toji lifts his head and kisses your forehead before your lips, the two of you indulging in this tender moment as if nothing outside this space matters to you.

That is, until another knock on the door alerts you both, and Toji has to resist the urge to break the table you're lying on. Withdrawing from your embrace, he shouts at the person ruining his time with you. "Look here, brat! I told you this space is occupied!"

"I'm aware. That's why I came to get you." The different voice has Toji realize it wasn't the junior from before but his handler. Shiu Kong? "I was told by some rookie that you were in this room."

Toji groans as he puts his pants back on. For your sake, you keep your mouth shut and let the two men converse through the door between them. "What's up?"

"I just got you into a big operation. The client wants to meet with you to discuss plans and all that fun jazz. So meet with me outside the building whenever you're ready." And with that, Shiu's footsteps falter away from the room.

You finally get up from the table and grab your panties. Or, at least, look in the direction of where your panties should be. Looking to the left? Nope. To the right? Nada. Where did they go?

You hear the click of the door opening, and you run behind an office chair to hide your bare lower body. The culprit was Toji leaving to meet his handler, but what caught your eye was the familiar piece of clothing swirling around his finger. His childish smirk was plastered on his face. "Mind I borrow these for the rest of the day?"

Your face goes hot with unease. "Quit it, Fushiguro! I can feel your cum going down my legs, so hand it over!"

But he doesn't, stuffing the undergarments in his pocket, to your immediate horror. "Nah, I think I'll need 'em, ya know. A lil' motivation for me while I'm gone."

His dumb laugh fills his ego, but it stops when he sees you pick the chair up and throw it at him. He barely escapes as the furniture loudly bangs on the closed door, running away from the scene to meet up with Shiu.

"FUSHIGURO, YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!!"

It's the first time you lose your cool with Toji, and all you can think about in this room of shame and humiliation is why did you get yourself tangled up with the older man again!?

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"I'm sorry for the sudden disappearance. Something came up on my end, and I had to take care of it immediately."

You found that subordinate later that day and apologized for your abrupt disappearance. They were accepted by the other, who nervously chuckled at your politeness.

"Oh, it's fine, y/n," he scratches his neck and looks to the ground. "I was just worried something happened with you, but I'm sure that wasn't the case since you're so good at what you do!"

You offer a small smile for his compliments, maintaining a calm composure so he doesn't see through the tiny nervous part of yourself. Oh, you don't even know the half of it, junior.

Your smile makes the younger hitman blush, but something catches his eye from behind you. "Huh? Oh, Mr. Fushiguro is back from his mission!"

You perk up at what your peer said, looking in the same direction he was. Shiu Kong was walking up with Toji tailing behind him. You greet Shiu with a brief bow, and he mirrors the action in return.

Once your eyes land on Toji, he's already grinning like a child with a hand rustling in a pocket, and you know what's inside it. "Hey, y/n." His patronizing tone doesn't go overlooked, causing your cheeks to heat up.

Your gaze averts from his cocky demeanor, yet you greet him. "Welcome back, Toji."

The look on the younger hitman across from you displays nothing but perplexity. Even Shiu Kong's brows shoot up with what you said. The junior is the first to say something. "Y/n, y-you just called Mr. Fushiguro by his first name!"

"Yeah, that's a first." Shiu agrees as the cigarette between his lips bounces at every word. "You only refer to him by his last name."

You blink once. You blink twice. And then it finally hits you. Oh shit.

The heat in your cheeks spreads across your face, and your lips lightly tremble as you try to explain yourself. But Toji beats you to the punch as he snakes an arm on your shoulder and brings you close to his chest, resulting in a squeak that your lips fail to suppress. He sneers at the younger man staring at the interaction.

"That's right, y/n and I have gotten pretty close, as you can tell." The grin on his face has a harmless glow, but those sharp emerald eyes of his are shadowed with a dangerous connotation. "After all, she is my special girl." Your subordinate gulps.

Toji snickers, satisfied with the younger hitman taking the hint. He then turns to you, and you do the same. "And as for you, darlin'," He leans in to whisper something in your ear. Something only for you to make your eyes wide and your breath still.

"Next time I see you with this brat, don't think I won't fuck the shit out of you with him watchin'. Show him just how special and good you are fr' me."

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paganimagevault · 7 months

Text

Ai Khanoum 3rd C. BCE - 2nd C. CE. More images on my blog, link at bottom.

"These wise sayings of men of old, The words of famous men, are consecrated At holy Delphi, where Klearchos copied them from carefully To set them up, shining from afar, in the sanctuary of Kineas.

As a child, be well behaved; As a young man, self-controlled; In middle age, be just; As an elder, be of good counsel; And when you come to the end, be without grief.

—trans. of Ai Khanoum stele by Shane Wallace and Rachel Mairs.

Ai-Khanoum (/aɪ ˈhɑːnjuːm/, meaning Lady Moon; Uzbek Latin: Oyxonim) is the archaeological site of a Hellenistic city in Takhar Province, Afghanistan. The city, whose original name is unknown, was likely founded by an early ruler of the Seleucid Empire and served as a military and economic centre for the rulers of the Greco-Bactrian Kingdom until its destruction c. 145 BC. Rediscovered in 1961, the ruins of the city were excavated by a French team of archaeologists until the outbreak of conflict in Afghanistan in the late 1970s.

The city was probably founded between 300 and 285 BC by an official acting on the orders of Seleucus I Nicator or his son Antiochus I Soter, the first two rulers of the Seleucid dynasty. There is a possibility that the site was known to the earlier Achaemenid Empire, who established a small fort nearby. Ai-Khanoum was originally thought to have been a foundation of Alexander the Great, perhaps as Alexandria Oxiana, but this theory is now considered unlikely. Located at the confluence of the Amu Darya (a.k.a. Oxus) and Kokcha rivers, surrounded by well-irrigated farmland, the city itself was divided between a lower town and a 60-metre-high (200 ft) acropolis. Although not situated on a major trade route, Ai-Khanoum controlled access to both mining in the Hindu Kush and strategically important choke points. Extensive fortifications, which were continually maintained and improved, surrounded the city.

Many of the present ruins date from the time of Eucratides I, who substantially redeveloped the city and who may have renamed it Eucratideia, after himself. Soon after his death c. 145 BC, the Greco-Bactrian kingdom collapsed—Ai-Khanoum was captured by Saka invaders and was generally abandoned, although parts of the city were sporadically occupied until the 2nd century AD. Hellenistic culture in the region would persist longer only in the Indo-Greek kingdoms.

It is likely that Ai-Khanoum was already under attack by nomadic tribes when Eucratides was assassinated in around 144 BC. This invasion was probably carried out by Saka tribes driven south by the Yuezhi peoples, who in turn formed a second wave of invaders, in around 130 BC. The treasury complex shows signs of having been plundered in two assaults, fifteen years apart.

Although the first assault led to the end of Hellenistic rule in the city, Ai-Khanoum continued to be inhabited; it remains unknown whether this reoccupation was effected by Greco-Bactrian survivors or nomadic invaders. During this time, public buildings such as the palace and sanctuary were repurposed as residential dwellings and the city maintained some semblance of normality: some sort of authority, possibly cultish in origin, encouraged the inhabitants to reuse the raw building materials now freely available in the city for their own ends, whether for construction or trade. A silver ingot engraved with runic letters and buried in a treasury room provides support for the theory that the Saka occupied the city, with tombs containing typical nomadic grave goods also being dug into the acropolis and the gymnasium. The reoccupation of the city was soon terminated by a huge fire. It is unknown when the final occupants of Ai-Khanoum abandoned the city. The final signs of any habitation date from the 2nd century AD; by this time, more than 2.5 metres (8.2 ft) of earth had accumulated in the palace.

While on a hunting trip in 1961, the King of Afghanistan, Mohammed Zahir Shah, rediscovered the city. An archaeological delegation, led by Paul Bernard, unearthed the remains of a huge palace in the lower town, along with a large gymnasium, a theatre capable of holding 6,000 spectators, an arsenal, and two sanctuaries. Several inscriptions were found, along with coins, artefacts, and ceramics. The onset of the Soviet-Afghan War in the late 1970s halted scholarly progress and during the following conflicts in Afghanistan, the site was extensively looted."

-taken from Wikipedia

...

"The silver ingot engraved with runic characters found during the excavations of the Treasury could suggest they were Sakā/Sai. This inscription comprises 21 characters of a script and a language that are unknown and both attributed to nomadic people of Sakā origin, by comparison with a dozen similar inscriptions coming from an area extending from Ghazni in Afghanistan to Almaty in Kazakhstan, and dated between the 5th century BC and the 8th century AD."

-taken from Ai Khanoum after 145 BC: The Post-Palatial Occupation by Laurianne Martinez-Sève, University of Lille, 2018

#ancient history #antiquities #art #paganism #statue #museums #sculpture #history #greek art #greek gods #ancient greek #greek myth #scythian #pagan #ancient art #afghanistan

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stirringwinds · 8 months

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ngl, i'm a subscriber to the "yong-soo is older than kiku" club too...i know canon says he's 15 or 16 but...eh. i do like some aspects of canon, like its depiction of him being tall and capable of projecting a photogenic image (more so than yao and kiku). but...is there justification for him being that young? old man yong-soo feels like it fits in way better with Korean history imo, and please i cannot resist the whole "the old master and his rival apprentices" dynamic between yao, yong-soo and kiku, with yong-soo being the "older" apprentice—given Korea's tremendously important role as the route through which several Chinese cultural elements were transmitted to Japan in real life (kanji, for one). that is on top of other elements of Korean culture that Japan imported, or Korea being the source of iron weapons and armour during japan's kofun period (300 to 538 AD)—and later, also advanced ship-building techniques.

i feel like it adds further dimension to how we might otherwise have a simplified view of the sinosphere as a universe where yao is the one who turns the wheel of "civilisation": it's also yong-soo taking those influences in. not passively, but actively incorporating his own cultural elements, before they're all passed on by his monks, traders, philosophers, mariners and soldiers to kiku. and in the modern era, Japanese imperial ascendency and ambition isn't just a yao-kiku dynamic of a weary old master and his talented, regicidal protégé, but with yong-soo, about a total inversion and desecration of the confucian hierarchy of seniority too. more than one older nation has had to endure imperial subjugation to a younger one—but in the shadow of meiji japan's naval power, there's the additional sting that it was him once teaching kiku ship-building a long time ago.

#hws korea #hws south korea #hws japan #hws china #hetalia #hetalia headcanons

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hellavile · 2 years

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under the influence. jean kirstein.

୭ warnings . . . fem!reader, officer!jean, lowercase intended, black coded, hot sweaty car sex, public indecency, oral ꒰ m received ꒱, jean’s rough bc he is, mild degradation, jean’s your ex, reader rides jean, impact play, jean’s a titty sucker srry i don’t make the rules.

୭ mocha’s note .ᐟ . . . men in uniform. yes. also y’all know exactly what song that title is. ;)

hues of blue and scarlet flicker over the body of your obsidian lexus rc 300, the vechicle behind you blaring the sirens like they’re eardrum killers purposely meant to burst them. you hated those fucking things. police even more. huffing after wiping the tears off your face, you pull to the side of the empty road. it’s extremely late at night. more-so early, around three in the morning. checking your rear view mirror, you spot the black camaro with an officer stepping out of it. just my fucking luck. as if you weren’t already having a shitty night. kissing your teeth, you sniffle as you roll down your window before reaching into your glove compartment for your license and registration. you’re not exactly sure why you’re being pulled over to be frank.

the officer strolls towards your car, a tall, lanky man whose wearing a black long sleeve which hugs his muscles and sharp cut abs with dark jeans and heavy boots. the belt around his hips is thick and leather . . . expensive looking. when he’s by the window to your vehicle, you turn to see his appearance. dewy pink lips plush as cotton. fawn long hair that brushes on the nape of his neck. a messy stubble on his jawline that shifts as he chews his gum. he didn’t have a badge, nor a holster on his hips with a gun or a taser. however, he did have on a loose vest with multiple pockets. maybe he was off duty and you ruined his drive home? his scent is strong, recognizable even. bleu de chanel. makes the hair on your skin rise. his eyes are what really draw you in. low and dark, like a dravite tourmaline.

“i knew it was you.”

a pang in your chest makes it nearly hard to breathe. you had to blink several times to decipher his image. you knew this man for sure. those lips of his curl into a lopsided grin as he witnesses your saddened eyes expanding. your fingertips slowly glide off your steering wheel as your hands drop into your lap. the man before you, your ex boyfriend, turns his neck sideways before spitting out his gum into the road. he has one hand on his hip and the other in his back pocket, now aware of the gun tucked in the back of his jeans. he’s definitely off duty. the car he’s driving is an undercover cop car.

“can’t speak to me?” jean prompts louder as if you couldn’t hear him the first time. “i’ve told you fifty times about that taillight, baby. how come it isn’t fixed yet?”

jesus this really isn’t a good night. of all the people you’ve encountered today, your ex had to be one of them. a cop scared you enough. but him? he terrified you. in all the right ways. sounds crazy, but there’s a reason.

“i see you followed through with your training.”

“did. i see you’re still hardheaded.”

“am.”

jean rolls his eyes. “that’s beside the point. why are you driving like you’re under the influence? you’ve been drinking?”

“no, i haven’t. sorry, i’m just . . . in my head,” he watches you sigh, noticing the puffiness in your eyes along with a hint of redness. you’ve been crying. it’s clear as day. jean cocks his head to the side, getting closer to your window, resting an arm on the hood of your car.

“what’s going on?” a genuine tone in his voice makes you cower. you didn’t need it. not from him that’s for sure.

“don’t worry about it. just give me a ticket so i can go home.”

he doesn’t appreciate the stern, cold tone in your voice. handing him your papers like he’s a stranger, a regular cop. not a man you’ve dated for five years. he’s seen every aspect of you. every breakdown, laugh, trauma. every freckle on your body. knows the way you like it. maybe you didn’t patch things up the right way, but that doesn’t make it okay for you to act like he doesn’t mean anything to you. fucking brat.

“is it so bad to worry about you?” his jaw clenches in fury, inching his face closer to yours, head sticking entirely into your space. you pull your face back, eyeing him like he’s crazy, baffled by his action.

“get out of my car.”

“i’m not in it. now shut the fuck up and tell me what happened. clearly you’re not okay. you’re swerving like you’re drunk plus you’ve been crying. i see it.”

the assertiveness he gives you almost makes you melt in your seat, not hearing his voice in so long, sometimes craving it. it’s like a warm cup of hot chocolate. smooth and comforting. your lower lip gets taken between your teeth before you’re inhaling and exhaling.

“this guy i’ve been fucking with just told me he had a girlfriend, so. we got into this huge fight and he broke my glasses which is why i can’t see all that good right now. i’m just trying to get home to forget about it.”

the look on his face is empty. “he hit you?”

immediately, you deny. “n-no. i mean, he grabbed me to try and apologize and my glasses fell and he stepped on them by accident.”

remembering it made you hug yourself, feeling his fingertips squeezing your arms harshly once again. jean looks there and sees a few bruises. your skin was really sensitive, so you bruised over anything.

“step out of the car.”

you blink. “what?”

“you heard me the first time.”

clearly, it doesn't seem as if he'll give up until you do. rolling your eyes, you do what you’re told, jean stepping back as you aggressively swing open your car door, stepping out with your arms hugging yourself considering you’re only wearing a cream flower lily sundress with white sandals. jean couldn’t help his lingering stare. you’ve always been outrageously beautiful to him.

“it’s really none of your concern.”

“god, i forgot how much you talked,” the tiny ‘tch’ coming from him before he’s pulling you in for a tight, comforting hug has you falling back into the same entrapment of passion. jean broke up with you because he didn’t want a relationship anymore. he wanted to work on himself, his life, pay more attention to his family and the baby girl he had with an ex of his. the reason why he terrified you is simple; you loved him too damn much that it hurt you to your core. to let him go. to be alone again. you hated him for leaving you.

“missed your pretty self,” now he's stroking your cheek with the pad of his thumb endearingly, rolling his lips inwardly when your eyes meet his.

“do you?” it comes out softer than you intended. small. he makes you feel so goddamn small, safe, and secure.

“yeah,” he breathes.

it's frustrating sometimes when your body reacts before your mind does. dainty hands reaching to skim across his waist you then grab onto, bringing him closer until your back is pressed up to your car. jean’s face remains stagnant. not sure of what to do. actually, he preferred to see what you were intending. truth is, you didn't know. if you wanted to rant about how he left you. kiss him and tell him to take you home. or get on your knees and worship him just because.

“are you with her?” your bottom lip juts out as you impel your chest to his. jean takes a minute to understand the question. you must've meant her.

“no. never. we're just co-parenting.”

“promise you haven't fucked her. not once after we split?” jean groans as the hazel in his eyes turn murkier, your face no longer in his. instead, you're bug-eyed with the bulge in his jeans. unlatching his buckle and pushing all your weight onto the car behind you as you balance yourself on your calfs.

“just one time. didn't mean anything,” jean is blunt about it causing you to raise your brow the same time you're dragging down his zipper. he doesn't so much as glance around to check for any unexpected company. it's nearly four in the morning and you're off the road near a forest of trees. no one was coming.

“was it good?” he swears to god he almost busts right there, clenching his jaw as you stick out your salivated tongue, hand wrapped around the base of his thick, hardened cock, a tear droplet of precum on the head. it's pulsating in your palm, and you mewl, wetting your lips with allure.

“i c-can't remember,” jean hisses as the warmth of your mouth intakes him, batting your curled lashes and glaring into his eyes as the vein on the underside of his cock is caressed by your tongue. he's somewhat in your mouth, resting heavy on your slippery tongue before you pull back and lap at the tip. jean’s physique is arched over you, forehead nearly grazing the hood of your vehicle.

“try,” now your hands reside on the back of his thighs, gathering enough saliva to spit over his dick, dragging it along with your pursed lips on either side, waiting for him to speak.

jean bites his lips so hard he curses, sucking on the blood seeping out, bucking his hips to thrust into your mouth. since you move back again, it makes him suck his teeth. big hands holding either side of your head before he's giving you a dark stare you hadn't seen in a minute. it makes you squirm. submitting easily.

“stick that lil’ tongue out,” he rasps, slicking his own over his bitten red lip. “you have to be polite, princess.”

it kills you to hear him speak to you like this. every spoken word foreign. you seriously don't know what came over you. too many emotions hitting you at once. seeing him, smelling him, holding him . . . you wanted him. no, needed him. obeying as you do, you stretch your mouth wider to fit him in deeper. jean mumbles a low ‘there we go, girl’, swallowing his spit and shifting his gut to fuck your mouth as he pleased. he's pressing your head against the door, your eyes wide and lashes specked with tears, jean grunting the faster he fucks your throat. you're breathing through your nose as best as you can, clutching onto him for support, unable to squeeze your thighs like you needed to ease the excessive throbbing.

he's by far one of the prettiest men you've met in your lifetime. moans even more lovely. drool slicks down the side of your chin, the color in your pupils shifting as your eyes lose focus. jean warns you under a brief choke, telling you ‘hold your breath’ before he's shoving his dick entirely down your throat. you claw at his thigh, gagging as he stays there for a few more seconds before pulling back. you gasp dramatically, swallowing the remainder of your saliva with his dick springing in your face, catching your breath.

“good fuckin’ girl,” he's petting the side of your face before helping you stand, your knees burning from being crouched down for so long. they were gonna burn more when you found out how he was going to have you next.

in your backseat, door shut and lights off. jean’s on his back, pants still clinging to his waist as your body pounces above him, clit occasionally brushing against the dark happy trail on his pelvis as you bounced on his dick with every inch of your body burning and screaming at you. chest rumbling from your euphoric screeches. ass clapping heavily on his bulky thighs as you grip onto the headrest of the passenger seat, the other on the back seat. jumping like his cute bunny while your tits are in his starved mouth. rushing his hot tongue over your nipples, teeth sinking in gently. sucking and pulling with his lips as he studies you with exhilaration.

“who's a good cock whore for daddy?” jean hums, a free hand swatting your ass for the fifth time now, encased by heat. feels like it's swollen. the yelp you exude makes him weak. you're so fucking sexy it makes no goddamn sense. “huh?”

“me, baby!” you sniffle cutely, slowing down and sitting down fully, gyrating, losing your balance.

“unh uh,” jean slaps your ass, your scream defeaning. “who said to stop? keep fucking going.”

the car is hot, no doubt. doesn't help that the windows aren't down and your seats are leather. jean’s lower back is sticky with sweat. his gear still on, shirt lifted only to his midsection. gun inside of your center console for safety. a broken whine falters from you as you rise up again, shifting your legs so one foot is flat on the floor and the other by his torso. he grabs that leg, keeping your knee bent once you find your pace again.

“s’in my tummy,” both of you look there in sync, jean snickering when you whine. it’s too dark to notice but both of you could feel it.

“clear as day, sweetheart. it's what makes me so proud of you. taking all my dick likes it's yours to own.”

“it is mine,” you pout sadly.

“mmm,” he tongues his inner cheek before grinning. “you want it back?”

it dawns on you for a second, realizing what he really meant. gulping, you nod. real you will have a conversation with yourself later. you’re dick drunk right now. totally different person.

“show me, then we'll decide.”

his girl. it’s what you are, how you feel. that’s the title that’ll always be yours to hold. doesn’t matter what happens between you two. who may interfere. you’re jean’s girl until death. that’s your man. and you made sure to fuck him good just so he could remember that. picking yourself up and dropping your ass down harder, faster. jean’s hissing, brows bent as he fists your dress he tightened on your stomach rougher. he can’t control himself when he helps you out by lifting his hips to collide with the flush of your skin, groaning deeply, jaw slacking.

“take your fucking dick, baby. take your fuckin’ dick,” jean growls by your ear after you fall forward, crying extremely loud it scares him for a second, thinking you’re in pain. it just so happens you’re overwhelmed with pleasure, the octave in your tone raising higher. it’s a noise he’s never, ever heard emit from you before. it stuns him, so bewildered by it that he halts completely.

“jean, m’ . . . ” it’s too fast the way you switch your position. bringing both your knees on either side of his slim figure, clutching his long hair, pleading and whimpering in his neck. you entire body’s trembling. “pleaseplease.”

jean listens to your sign without hesitation. angling his body to drill his cock into you while holding you down with his arm thrown around your waist, foot implanted on the seat while his other hand spread your cheeks apart, fingers sprawled over your hot skin. balls slapping as your sluice pussy covers his dick. when you cum you’re absolutely gone. laying your forehead against the door, shaking, screaming, crying. all of it is just what he needs cum on the globes of your ass, pulling out swiftly and moaning into your chest.

“you don't know what you do to me.”

visual. visual.

. . . taglist; @dejwrites @indiecursor @massivelynervousprincess @gabzlovesu @emomanswhore @sanwioz @taesd-urag @anajah @rinhoes @festive @erentoes @erenyeagerswhore @caribbeanwifey19 @yooniluvbot444 @cinnitsuki @hannas16 @bubs-world @sintiva @yoshimurah @sailewhoremoon

#jean kirstein x reader #jean smut #jean x y/n #jean x you #jean x reader #snk smut #aot smut #aot jean #snk jean #shingeki no kyojin smut #jean kirstein x black reader #jean kirstein x you #jean kirstein smut #jean imagine #jean x black!reader #anime smut #shingeki no kyoujin imagine #☆. hellavile.

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ifuckingloveryoshu · 15 days

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CANTO 6 PART 3 SPOILERS

Im beyond pissed, tumblr crashed in the middle of me doing this so this is going to be so much shorter than I want it to be. NON RYOSHU RELATED POST ABOUT THE HEATHCLIFF. DON'T TAKE WHAT I SAY AS FACT I AM NOT QUALIFIED FOR THIS. LOOK AT THE LINKS I CITE FOR MORE INFORMATION! You can click them when their mentioned. Im not citing in the proper format. This was done on 5 hours of sleep, two eggs, and a box of banana milk.

youtube

The Erlkonig or Erlking is this figure in German Mythology who kidnapps children. When he touches you, he kills you. This poem made by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe then adapted to this song is what you see. Erlkoning Heathcliff is trying to intice Heathcliff to die by telling him that it's his fault Cathy is dead. All identities refer to the sinner as "child" when you look into their uptie stories. Mili and the singer of the video here use the same technique of changing the tone and pitch of their voice to differntiate two characters.

The Wild Hunt is a part of Norse Mythology where Odin, mounted on his sixed legged horse Sleipnir, goes through the forest. According to norse-mythology.org, anyone who gets caught up in The Wild Hunt, spotted or seen, gets carried away. Your soul will get incorporated into The Wild Hunt. We all know Erlking Heathcliff did, the rising of the bodies. The Wild Hunt is also mostly describe as having hounds, and who was a hound? Hindleys.

From the same website, on the page of Sleipnir reads,

Also, the horse that heath rides on has a weird liney pattern on it's 4 legs that kind of look like that runestone. There's more connection here, I just don't want to type it again.

How did Project Moon mix two diffrent mythological ideas together? (Its not just two, they mixed so many more.) Meet human mistranslation and the progression of oral tradition and story telling throught time. I don't kno where to start. There was mistranslation poem when, according to ancient-origins.net Johann Gottfried Herder wrote a seperate ballad from the one I linked at the start called Erlkönigs Tochter.

The Anglo-Saxons were early German settlers. This is where things get messy because I have several more potential leaders of the Wild Hunt but here are two, King Herla and Herne The Hunter.

Herne The Hunter: Popularized by Shakespeare potentially from a play called The Merry Wives of Windsor. This man called Jacobb Grimm said that Hene The Hunter was related to Odin. Herne the hunter is this ghost. ( https://mythopedia.com/topics/herne-the-hunter ) Im trying to say there are other media that connect the Erlking to the Wild Hunt but its on Wikipedia so it makes it seem fishy. Another Link Here

King Herla: A british king who attended a dwarf wedding. When he left the wedding, the world had changed. Unbeknowst to him, 300 years had passed and he was claimed to be missing. When his men tried to get off their horses, they turned into dust so they were stuck like that. Read it here, its short. Someone better and more credible than me summed the story up better than I did, historian Chrissy Senecal. Read right here. An additional link to cross refrence if you'd like. King Herla and Odin got conflated together when really, their diffrent people

I found this other website article about Wild Hunts which kind of brings me to the next thing, the Harlequinn. They weild clubs, their devils, the image of them is popularly joyful? Maybe goofy and lighthearted? Perhaps associated with cards? Matt, or Heathcliff's portrayal of Matt. Now, I'm looking at Wikipedia and I see this section.

What do we have here? A mention of the Erlkönig, Dante's Inferno, masked, club weilding giant. Heathcliff's not giant but hes pretty tall, at least by my standards but whatever, im very short. DANTE'S INFERNO, Canto 11 and 12. What the fuck Project Moon, are you playing 5d chess?

Back on topic, Hellequin is the fairy king, and this figure pops up in German, French, Italian, and English folklore. I can't do proper research when all my search results are mixed with random junk and I'm becoming nutty. You will not normally be able to access this article without paying but here's the link anyways. Journal Article from this book on a section about horned deities made in 1922 speaks of a group of ghost riding, who are also huntsman.

And also another mention of Dante's Inferno. The name, Herne The Hunter is mentioned again.

All and all, The link between The Erlkonig and The Wild Hunt isn't as wild and unexplainable as I originally thought. It's just so cool to see all these concepts intersect. There still so much to touch upon like the headless horseman refrence and the Dullahans, RYOSHU COMPARING THE WILD HUNT TO THE PARADE OF 100 SPIRTS, something along that line, I forgot the name. I'm just not the right person to yell about this but I will anyways. The writers mixed so many symbols of death into one character. Such a wild and nutty Canto. Thank you so much Project Moon.

#not ryoshu #not ryoshu related #limbus company #lcb heathcliff #a link between The Erlking and The Wild Hunt #canto 6 spoilers

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gaybananabread · 4 months

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CONGRATS ON 300! YEEHAW

Could I get some apples, oranges, and bananas for TADC? lee!Jax, ler!Ragatha please!

Love your content, always have, always will!

*Hughug*

Fruit(s): Apples, Oranges, Bananas

EEEEEEGH Thank youuu! (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) These TADC requests are so fun, love these insane scronkles! Haven’t explored the circus peeps before this event; it’s been a lot of fun! Hugs returned tenfold! (づ๑•ᴗ•๑)づ Thank you for requesting, and I hope you Enjoy!

Lee: Jax

Ler: Ragatha

Summary: Jax leaves Ragatha a “special” present in her room, trying to annoy the rag doll. He succeeds, though it backfires in a way he never could’ve expected. All he has to do is apologize…but where’s the fun in that?

Warnings: none! This is a tickle fic, so if you don’t like that, scroll away!!

Bug pizza.

Honestly, Ragatha didn’t even know where he was getting the materials for his “pranks” anymore. Somehow, the jerk had managed to get several bug species, pizza ingredients, and more centipedes than she had ever seen in one place before. Her shriek could be heard across the entirety of the grounds, Caine quickly rushing over to dispose of the wriggling abomination.

Jax, meanwhile, was in his room, laughing his tail off as he heard the scream. Ragatha was, by far, his favorite character to mess with. Sure, it was easy to tease Gangle, and Kinger was occasionally fun to trick, but Ragatha always got so flustered and passive-aggressively mad at him; he loved it.

His laughter died down, though, as loud, angry footsteps approached his door. Eugh boi... Jax quickly sat up, trying to force the giddy smile back into his usual smirk. It took everything he had not to cackle at the look on her face. She was furious.

“Jax. Why the *squawk* was there a freaking bug pizza in my room?!” The bunny man couldn’t contain himself anymore; he burst into loud laughter, falling back onto his bed. Ragatha just watched, her anger slowly growing. That sorry, smug little purple bi- Whoooo. Deep breaths, Ragatha.

“Ohoho, wow, that was- Oooh man. Lookit’ ya, Dollface! Ehehe…he…” The look of amusement slowly got more nervous as he saw her look change. It wasn’t pure anger anymore; there was a hint of something else, something he knew he’d seen before.

Ragatha stepped into his room, mock-cracking her knuckles. She didn’t exactly have real bones to do it, but the gesture got the message across. “I’ll give you something to laugh about, cotton tail…”

Okay, time to run! Jax sprang up from his bed, bolting past Ragatha and running for his life. The doll was almost right behind him, his long legs the only thing keeping him ahead.

Ducking and weaving between objects and furniture, Jax continued his mad dash through the tent. He passed Zooble, who just rolled their eyes and muttered a few onomatopoeia-censored words. That was the least of his concerns; the pissy redhead on his tail was a much bigger threat.

Ragatha could hear the occasional giggle escape him as he ran, either from anticipation or the fact she couldn’t catch him. She took it both ways, running just a bit faster in her attempts to catch him.

With the way he was running, he might’ve gotten away. That is, if he hadn’t tripped over a random plastic ball on the floor. Stupid Caine and his stupid ball pit adventure…

The doll girl pounced, quickly straddling him and pinning his arms above his head. Jax normally would’ve fought for his life, but the giddy adrenaline took over his mind, flooding his thoughts with things he’d never say out loud. Very…embarrassing-lee silly thoughts.

“I'll give you one last chance, cotton tail. Apologize and I'll spare you.” Ragatha smirked as she said it, making a claw and wiggling her fingers above his stomach.

Jax’s ears pinned back, his stomach reflexively sucking in at the sight of her clawed hand. He could have just apologized…but where was the fun in that? The guy had an image to protect, and he wasn’t about to surrender to her without a fight.

Seeing his determination to be a stubborn jerk, she touched the claw down on his stomach, digging in with all five wiggly fingers. “Fine, you asked for it!” Ragatha sounded extremely smug; he was honestly a bit impressed. Well, he would’ve been impressed, had he not been giggling like a little kid.

“Youhuhu lihitle- gehehet ohoff!” He tugged and tugged on his arms, trying to free himself. Her strength wasn’t a huge surprise; that was hardly the first time she’d attacked him. Still, could you blame him for trying?

Chuckling, she started to let her hand wander, moving up to his ribs. Ragatha knew exactly where to go to get him really laughing, but she wanted to give him a chance to apologize first. “I’ll get off when you say sorry.”

His ribs were about as bad as his stomach; they got him giggling, but not much other than that. Jax knew she was dragging it out. All he had to do was outlast her. “S-sohohorry you cahan’t tahahake a johohoke!”

“Ohoho, you’re getting it now, flatfoot.” Tired of his mouth, she went for his hips, drilling her plush thumbs into the divots. Jax squealed, bucking his hips and arching his back as she targeted his worst spot. “I’m done being nice. Now, Jax, apologize.”

Jax thrashed wildly in her grip, trying desperately to get away from the horribly ticklish sensation. “DOHOLL- crahap, RahagATHAHAHA!” She took small, five second pauses in between bouts of squeezing, not wanting to completely overwhelm him. He was her friend, regardless of his mouthy behavior.

“Sorry Jax, but you’re literally asking for it. Just apologize and I’ll leave you alone.” Deciding to take things a step further, she released his hands, still drilling into his hip with the other. Ragatha took her newly-open hand up to his ears, scritching the bases of them.

The rabbit was in stitches, unable to get a coherent word out through his laughter. The duality of his favorite most annoying spot versus his death spot was killer; he was torn between melting at the ear scritches and jumping out of his skin from the hip squeezes. While his hands were free, he didn’t have enough space in his mind to even think about using them.

His big feet thumped against the floor, his ears twitching as he frantically tried to escape. Raghatha only teased him, not backing down. “Aww, what’s wrong, Thumper? Does it tickle?” Ugh, those teases…

Finally, with mirthful tears forming in the corners of his eyes, he caved. Jax screeched through his frantic laughter, trying to get her to stop. “FIHIHINE! IHIHI’LL DO IHIHIT, JUHUST- STAHAHAP!”

Ragatha stopped tormenting his hips, moving both hands up to gently scratch his ears. While he did ask her to stop, she knew Jax loved the affection on his ears. “So, what do you have to say to me?”

He whined through his giggles, melting at the touch. Jax’s giggling got softer and airier, as if he were floating on cloud nine. If it were possible, he would’ve absorbed into the floor and hid until she got tired of looking for him. “Uhuhum…I-Ihi’m sohorry abohout the buhuhugs.”

She smiled, booping where his nose would’ve been for extra flair. “There you go, ya goof. Was that so hard?” The groan she got in return was priceless.

Chuckling, she stood, leaving him on the floor in a giggly puddle. He’d be fine; besides, she wasn’t planning on sticking around while he regained his energy. Jax’s idea of payback was often much crueler than her own.

The tickle-drunk bunny laid there, trying to regain his composure. Ugh… Jax rubbed his ears, sitting up as his nerves buzzed with leftover sensations. He knew one thing for sure:

Ragatha was so dead when he found her…

#kasey's fruit shop #tadc tickle #lee!jax #ler!ragatha #ticklish!jax #sfw tickling community #tickle fic #tickle #fruit shop event #tadc #the amazing digital circus tickle #tadc jax #tadc ragatha

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unpretty · 1 year

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idk man. from 2008 to 2019 i was self-employed. i dropped out of high school in 2006 and then dropped out of college in 2010 and moved to a swamp to watch my great-grandma die because that was the only thing i could afford to do. then i went back to college and lived off student loans for a while. if i managed to scrape together $500 in a single month, that was a very good month. i applied for a gamestop credit card i shouldn't have qualified for and used it to buy taco bell gift cards for when i couldn't afford groceries, then paid a stupid amount of interest on the cost of my taco bell gift cards because i couldn't afford to pay off the balance.

during that period i bought over 2000 ebooks and 600 steam games. i like to believe that i'll read or play them someday. i probably won't, with most of them. but it was nice to have the option. i paid $10 a year for a domain name that did nothing but show a single image when you went there because i thought that was funny. i bought every sims expansion. i bought a ps4 and pretended i was in debt for a ps4 instead of taco bell gift cards and the sims. i barely ever played anything on the ps4, but it was nice to have the option.

when i got a part-time retail job in 2019 ($12 an hour! 20 hours a week!) i felt RICH. i was getting $200-$300 a week! that's so much fucking money! i was spending most of it on gas, and food that i could eat in a store break room without dying. but it was still so much money!! i paid off all my credit cards and then immediately ran them back up. i bought matching couches for me and my cat at tj maxx. i bought a ferris wheel for mini cupcakes. i bought cute dresses and shoes that i never had a chance to wear because the only time i went anywhere was to work, in my work uniform. i was 29 and that was the most money i had ever had in my life. now i'm 32 with a full-time office job and most of my money goes toward debt but the rest of it ends up being spent on dumb shit. every month i look at my budget and try to figure out where it all went wrong and every month the conclusion is, "spent too much money on dumb shit". you would think that i would try to stop doing that, and yet.

it's like. i was poor and now i'm lurking somewhere near the low end of middle class, and in both cases buying dumb shit was simultaneously proof that i would be rich if i could just stop buying dumb shit, and that i couldn't possibly understand true poverty if i was capable of buying dumb shit. i do not know how to explain to people that i will always waste more time and money than anyone ever should on dumb shit that i think is funny. there is nothing i want more than to spend my last dollar on a laugh and my last minute laughing, and no one's insistence that they would use them better will change this.

#original #my worst habit from poverty is the superstition that #money needs to be spent immediately #because saving money invites money-costing trouble #if i have zero dollars and my car breaks down i will somehow some way pull enough money out of thin air to make it work #but if i manage to save up $500 then my car will immediately break down in a way that costs $600 to fix #poverty also brings the understanding that the charitable will pay for dinner but not dessert #metaphorically speaking #there are programs to get help paying for food and rent and utility bills #there are not programs to pay for video games #but the programs to help pay for necessities will demand to look at your bank account as proof you have no money #and will not accept 'that is my birthday money for a video game' as an explanation #so you get this bad habit of just #spending any money you happen to get free and clear #if the Helping Poor People Program sees you have $200 saved up they will demand you spend that first #if you spend the $200 on video games and comic books you will not have this problem #all of my worst habits as a Bad Poor came from restrictions put on assistance lmao

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objectheadzine · 8 months

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WELCOME TO THE 10TH ANNIVERSARY OF THE OBJECT HEAD ZINE!

2 months left!

In celebration, the 2024's edition will be a Grab Bag - draw whatever object head you like (so long as it fits the guidelines, see below). In Lieu of a theme, all submissions MUST HAVE ASHLEY (the megaphone mascot) in the piece! Feel free to make him as large or as small as you want in the composition. He can be hanging out with your characters or he can be on a flyer, just so long he's somewhere in the picture! Reference of all his outfits can be found here. But don't feel like you're restricted to his previous outfits. Feel free to dress him up in anything you'd like. Content is also free for whatever! You want to date the lil man? Go for it! You want to tease or go on the attack? Also fine! Ignore him and let him live his life? Sure thing.

ALL submissions will be accepted as long as they fit guidelines and each person has a limit of up to 3 submissions. Submit your pieces to the zine email objectheadzine(@)hotmail(.)com along with the email/website/name you’d like to be credited as. (Feel free to omit emails if that is more comfortable). When you’ve finished your piece(s), you are allowed to post them to your blogs as long as you link back to the zine blog! This will be a DIGITAL ZINE ONLY and will be available free upon completion (donation optional).

The guidelines are as follow:

Illustration-quality works in either digital or traditional mediums. Both colour and b/w acceptable; background required. *BG can be as simple as a pattern or colour block! Avoid utilizing a camera to submit your images, please use a scanner.

The default size will be 6″x9″, 300 dpi (1800px x 2700px) but feel free to go larger or smaller, so long as it follows those proportions. Please work in a vertical format.

For consistency’s sake, keep faces to a minimum (You can have eye(s) or you can have mouth(s) but don’t have both in a humanoid arrangement.)

Ashley, the megaphone head mascot, must be included in your piece. He can be small in the picture or a large factor but he must be included. When submitting, if he is not obvious, please point him out to me. References are found here.

Please go for original characters (or fanart of your friend’s characters) and not so much established object heads (e.g. the popcorn and soda heads from No More).

If you want to include humans, that’s fine as well but keep the ratio of people to object heads 1:1.

Content should be at most PG-13: Romance is fine but after-hours business should not be implied, Blood is fine but no gore. In the end, use your common sense.

Feel free to draw a comic or just an illustration! A comic counts as one submission.

Some facts about Ashley that could help with your piece: He's 5'2", he's of Chinese nationality, he's a TV show host, he's a bubbly, happy-go-lucky kind of guy and he has a Samyoed dog named Cotton!

Note that if a submission does not meet the above guidelines, I will either reject your submission or suggest improvements that would help your piece fulfill them. Please email me at objectheadzine(@)hotmail(.)com if you have any further questions and I’ll do my best to reply promptly. If you do not receive a message from me within a few days, please send it again. Final pieces submitted should be either in PNG or a one layer PSD file format.

Want to share your piece as you're working on them? Come on over to the Object Head Zine discord!

THE DUE DATE FOR SUBMISSIONS IS NOVEMBER 9TH.

#object head #object heads #object head zine #objecthead #objectheads #objectheadzine

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jessicalprice · 1 year

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adventures in christian opinions about judaism

(reposted from Twitter)

So a while back I started writing a thing on the trio of parables that ends with the prodigal son (which I still need to finish) and like MAN OH MAN do Christian commentators insist that Jews hate shepherds.

Like, I can't even count the number of commentaries that insist that shepherds were "despised figures" for first-century Jews and the parables of the lost sheep and lost coin were designed to insult the Pharisees by comparing them first to a shepherd and then to a woman.

So, as is my wont whenever Christian commentators make a claim about what was normal for first-century Judaism, I decided to try to hunt down their source on this.

As I've said many times, when it comes to Christian parable interpreters' claims about what attitudes/beliefs/etc. were normal for first-century Jews, get used to the phrase "no sources are cited."

I mean, first off, as a 21st-century Jew, the insistence that 1st-century Jews hated shepherds rings odd, given that <checks notes> Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Rachel, all of Jacob's kids (the founders of the tribes), David, etc. were all sheep-tenders. The image of God as a shepherd is pretty consistent throughout the Tanakh. That image reappears in the Qumran texts, which as far as I know, are one of the few Jewish sources we have from 1st-century Judaea.

The term "despised" gets used a lot, so I decided to dig into that one.

When I was able to find citations, I traced them back to an 1882 commentary by a guy named Frederic Farrar.

Farrar cites Heinrich Meyer as a source for this, but when I looked up THAT citation, it's Meyer saying that shepherds were a "lowly but patriarchally consecrated class" -- in other words, poor, but with a distinguished history and status.

So that's why everyone's tossing the term "despised" around--because Farrar just made it up. But what about primary sources? I went back on the hunt.

Surprisingly, in a number of reference works, like glossaries and Jeffers's "Greco-Roman World of the New Testament," I found similar assertions about the common attitude toward shepherds, for which they cited...

Aristotle. You know, the Greek guy who lived 300 years before Jesus? Definitely a reliable source for Jewish attitudes of the time.

Some people cited Philo's On Agriculture. Okay, Philo was at least Jewish and lived when Jesus would have, although he was a wealthy Hellenized Jew living in Alexandria rather than a Pharisee living in the Galilee. But okay, at least it's the right culture and time period. (The reference in Philo turns out to be talking about the section of Genesis in which Joseph's brothers come visit him in Egypt. It talks about how they were proud to be shepherds, and criticizes (gentile) kings who look down on shepherds.)

Then we've got Mishnah Kiddushin, in which a bunch of rabbis are having a debate about which professions make you trustworthy vs untrustworthy, and one rabbi lists everyone from camel-drivers to herders to barbers to shopkeepers as untrustworthy. Another rabbi comes back and is like, nah, all those people are fine upstanding folks; it's doctors and butchers you've gotta watch out for. So they're citing one cranky dude with a LONG list of people he doesn't like, who immediately gets shot down, as evidence of the normative attitude for Jews about a century earlier.

Oh, and we've got a citation of Midrash Tehillim which says that God-as-shepherd doesn't have any of the failings of humans-as-shepherds, which... sure. Also, it was codified in the 1300s?

The most compelling citation is from the Talmud (Sanhedrin 25b), in which the rabbis discuss who's qualified to be a legal witness. They exclude shepherds, because shepherds graze their animals on other people's land, which some of the rabbis see as a type of theft.

The Talmud is a record of debates, but this passage definitely makes it sound like this is a majority opinion. (It should be noted that the passage disqualifies all KINDS of people, from those who lend with interest to those who fly pigeons, as having conflicts of interest.)

But the important thing here is that the Talmud includes records of debates from as late as the 4th or 5th centuries CE (300-400 years after Jesus's time), and the passage makes a point of noting that the disqualification of shepherds as witnesses is a later development.

So in other words, the idea that the Pharisees hated shepherds and would have been insulted by Jesus telling a story in which the protagonist was a shepherd is based either on Greek attitudes that are 300 years too early or Jewish ones that are 300-400 years too late.

But people will twist themselves into citation knots (or just not bother citing a source at all) to insist that this was a common attitude so they can position the Pharisees as hating those charming humble shepherds and their fuzzy little lambs.

As to WHY this idea seems to be so important to them, well, you cannot read about Luke 15 without encountering the word "outcast" roughly 90 times per page.

The framing is Jesus was friend to The Outcasts while the Pharisees despised The Outcasts and the Lost Sheep, Coin, and Sons are all parables about accepting The Outcast.

Never mind that neither the sheep, the coin, nor either of the sons got kicked out of their communities. The sheep wandered off, as sheep are wont to do, the coin was lost by its owner, and the younger son decided to leave to go on a spending spree while the older son declined to attend the welcome back party for him after his dad managed to hire a band and caterers but never thought to let his own son know what was going on and he had to find out from a hired hand.

Moreover, the term "outcasts" gets used as a synonym for "tax collectors and sinners." Tax collectors were usually pretty well-off because they ran a protection racket for the Romans. Outcasts? I mean, I guess? But hardly in the "marginalized and powerless" sense.

As far as "sinners," the NT doesn't usually bother telling us what, exactly, they did to "sin," but on the rare occasions when it does offer that context, it's almost always wealthy people.

But why talk about that when they can present the objection the Pharisees had to Jesus's dining with "tax collectors and sinners" as the Pharisees despising lowly outcasts, and insist that the Pharisees hated the idea of such people repenting and returning, and so Jesus was tweaking their noses by comparing them to shepherds and women.

As if, you know, teshuvah wasn't something the Pharisees were ALL ABOUT. If you want to actually understand, consider that the iconic tax collector in the parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector shows no inclination to STOP being a tax collector.

The objection wasn't you're having a friendly dinner with poor lowly outcasts for whom we have contempt. It was you're having a friendly dinner with people who are extorting their neighbors on behalf of the invaders who kill us for looking at them funny and have expressed no intention to stop doing that.

Now, there's a good discussion to be had about whether shunning Trump lawyers and Marjorie Taylor-Greene donors or inviting them to dinner and trying to win them over with compassion is more effective, more ethical, more compassionate (to whom?), etc.

But presumably we can see why people of intelligence and goodwill might disagree on which of those approaches is the right thing to do, and why such people might might object to the strategy they don't agree with.

But what really gets me is that Christians have the utter fucking NERVE to paint the Pharisees as inhumanly awful for not wanting to have dinner with tax collectors while viewing Corinthians as Holy Writ:

I mean, Paul's all YOU MUST SHUN ALCOHOLICS AND PEOPLE WHO ARE GREEDY and Christians are like yes, that makes sense, but if the Pharisees are like, no, I don't want to have dinner with that guy who narced on my cousin and got him crucified, Christians are like, they're monsters.

Cool, cool.

Anyway, this has been your weekly edition of Christians Need To Stop Just Making Shit Up About Jews And Then Citing Each Other Like It's Fact.

And there were a lot of "I've never heard anyone say Jews of Jesus's time hated shepherds..." responses: Maybe you haven't, but that doesn't make it uncommon.

Sources in which I've found it:

Craig Blomberg (Denver Seminary, Society of Biblical Literature, Tyndale House, NIV translation committee)

Jared Wilson (professor at multiple Baptist seminaries)

Stephen Wright (Spurgeon College (British evangelical college))

Arland Hultgren (Luther Seminary (ELCA))

Kenneth Bailey (Presbyterian/Episcopalian)

Joachim Jeremias (Lutheran, cited EVERYWHERE)

Bernard Brandon Scott (Disciples of Christ, the Jesus Seminar)

Klyne Snodgrass (Evangelical Covenant Church)

Barbara Reid (Catholic Biblical Association)

That particular trope spans denominations, decades, etc. It's not a fringe viewpoint.

#christian exegesis #antisemitism #jumblr #citational politics #bad methodology #parables #pharisees #first century judaism #second temple judaism #good shepherd #prodigal son #why are christians like this?

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