This Is A Collab Comic Between Me And The Incredible Elien! Adapted From (with An Additional Scene) Iamsomebody’s

𝓐𝓵𝓵 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓵𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽𝓼 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓼𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓴𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝔂𝓸𝓾, 𝓲𝓽 𝓼𝓮𝓮𝓶𝓼… 𝓞𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓸𝔀𝓷𝓽𝓸𝔀𝓷 𝓼𝓬𝓮𝓷𝓮𝓼, 𝓼𝓱𝓪𝓭𝔂 𝓫𝓵𝓾𝓮

Black & white version

Close ups

The High Cost of Living - Gojo’s side.

Please read Geto’s side first.

A world where Gojo knows of Kenjaku’s plan beforehand, and does something about it.

The waking up in PJO lore no one really wants, but I need to desperately tell someone —

Hades has never been anyone’s favorite parent.

Melinoe, their oldest, has always been so independent, she takes after her grandmother in that way. Orderly and proper, with healthy amounts of ambition and a practical worldview. She doesn’t care much for Olympus or the mortal realm, finding solace with Nyx and Hecate, old immortals with old magic. He’s not surprised when she asks to journey with Hecate to the lower levels of the Underworld. He sees her off, handing her a metal container full of pita bread, hummus, and her favorite olives pickled with lemon and paprika. She’s in such a rush she forgets it on the entryway table in the foyer.

Makaria, their youngest daughter, is a spitfire. Rebellion incarnate, in the shape of a thirteen year old girl. She outgrew the underworld by the time she was sixteen, bored with shades, and Elysium, and jewels. The only time she seemed to be enjoying herself was when Hera came to visit. “I just hate having to learn everything about the mortal realm five years after it’s already happened.” She’d whispered when she accompanied him to bless one of Zeus’ favorite sons, a king of his mortal land, while on his death bed. He sees the way she looks at palace, the ivory columns, and sprawling lush gardens with a conflicted look in her eyes, and he knows it time for her to go. He reaches out to Hera himself, asking if she’ll guide his daughter in the duties of a socialite. He makes pomegranate jam and scones himself when she leaves, and she smiles as she accepts it, but he knows they’ll sit untouched for months until they start to rot.

He never had a chance with Zagreus, not with the way he radiates with wrath, just like his wife. And sure enough, from birth they’re inseparable. Two beings made from the same fabric. Maybe that’s why he hungers for Olympus so desperately, practically trying to claw his way out of the Underworld while Persephone watches with a disappointed frown. He wants to tell her to be more understanding, she was just like him once, begging and scheming to find a way to escape her mother in the mortal realm and climb to Olympus. Understanding comes later, after Zagreus makes it out and returns with hunched shoulders and dark circles. “It’s not what I thought it would be like,” he says, and Persephone holds him as he weeps. Zagreus finds his own footing in the Underworld, becoming a celebrity amongst the shades and nymphs. Hades leaves dinner in the fridge every night, just in case, even though he knows he’ll just end up washing the full containers at the end of the week.

And it’s not that he feels unloved or unappreciated. He loves his children, and he knows that they love and trust him. They just have people they relate to more.

And that’s okay. He’s never been anyone’s favorite god, temples and shrines are built in fear, he knows that. And he’s never been anyone’s favorite brother, that’s why it had to be him that inherited the Underworld. And even Cerberus prefers to sleep with Zagreus these days.

He’s used to it.

But when he holds you for the first time, bundled in a pale cream blanket, he knows that this time is different than all the others. Melinoe might be for the elder's of the Underworld, and Makaria might be for Hera, and Zagreus was undoubtedly made for his wife, but you —

You were made just for him.

And everyone knows it. They can see it in the way only he can soothe your cries in the middle of the night with his scent alone, the way you place a hand on his face and you shriek in delight when he places his hand over it, the way you only eat when it's the baby food he made personally for you, the way he caries you in a sling and whispers to you all that he knows; about the Underworld, about life, about mortals, and how love is the greatest gift and curse of all.

It's in how his heart breaks in two when Zagreus decides to take you to the mortal realm. He knows it's the right thing, you're half mortal yourself, it's where you belong. He does as Zagreus asks, feigning banishment for not adhering to the rules of the Underworld, when Persephone asks why he let him leave. And he watches as his son ascends the steps to the mortal realm, a cream-colored bundle cradled against his chest. He knew this was always going to happen, but he stays in bed the entire week after you're gone anyway, barely registering Persephone's embrace, Melinoe's offerings of water and soup, or Makaria's company.

He only rouses from bed when he realizes he sent you off without any food, he makes your favorites, packs them neatly in stacks of four in a canvas bag and wraps them in two pieces of checker print cloth tied at the top. He can't leave the Underworld, so he sent his best man to deliver them to you, a Cyclops who was good at paperwork and organization.

"I delivered it to the penthouse boss, but don't send me back, they're terrifying," he says with a shiver.

He finds himself smiling, being fearsome is it's own advtange.

He watches you through the eyes of ravens and moths, through the billowy curtains of your penthouse in Manhattan and the windows in your expensive private school next to Central Park that your father liquidates a diamond every month to afford tuition for. He watches you laugh, and make friends, and (unfortunately) develop a very deep soda addiction (he’ll lecture Zagreus when he sees him again).

And you’re six years old, on your way to school when he sees the best pomegranate finally ripen in the garden. He picks it with care, polishing it four times before whistling for Cereberus.

“Could you make a trip for me?”

It’s the greatest mistake of his life, because now Cerberus is at his heels all day, begging for another command to bring you a gift. He looks through the eyes of bird, watching you sit on the kitchen counter cutting a pomegranate, his pomegranate, in half. Smiling as you take a bite of the sweet fruit.

"Their knifework needs help," he mumbles to himself, but his mouth is wobbly and his eyes are warm.

Makaria comes by, asking for money for her tuition fees for NYU, ten years and still no degree. He sighs, he would have paid it anyway, but he might as well get something out of it.

"Deliver this." He hands her a black business card, he only ordered ten cards a millennium ago, and he's only ever handed out two of them. This will be the third. Makaria quirks an eyebrow up, and he shrugs. She wouldn’t understand. "And take Cerberus with you, he's been depressed for weeks now."

He's beside himself with anticipation for when you'll call to meet him. A day goes by, then two, then a week, and as he counts the days he realizes it's been a month. He knows you don't remember him, maybe just the feeling of being held, at best. He knows you mean more to him than what he means to you.

But knowing and hoping are two different things.

He finds himself preoccupying his endless amount of time with work, with balancing the accounts and collecting feedback from the shades, inspecting the areas of his realm. He's trimming the pomegranate tree in the garden when he feels it, a tremor, a calling.

He smiles.

Grabbing whatever he can get his hands on, a pomegrante, a red cloak, jewels, and tweleve years worth of birthday money he's been collecting in a silk pouch.

The first time he sees you in person after eleven years, you're on the ground, your legs tucked underneath your body, golden ichor splashed across your hands, staining the flimsy cotton fabric of your shirt, a glimmer smeared across your cheek.

But your eyes, your eyes haven't changed. You look directly into his eyes, just like when you were no more than two months old and he'd whisper secrets and sweet nothings to you.

His baby. His godling. His child.

His. His. His. His.

And the sight of you alone makes him want to weep, the thought that this is what's been kept from him all these years.

"Will you help me?" Your voice cracks in the middle, tears budding at the corners of your eyes.

He would burn all of Olympus down if you asked.

"Always."

How to super boop?

It only works on desktop but you have to hover your cursor on the boop button until spins

warrior Penelope au because women in armor + holding swords >>>>

This is canon now. Wow

So @jayherrans (on ig) decided to add little snippet song (the next one to Unreleased Saga) about Athena being a wingman. WING-man. You get it? I love this with all my heart, so have a few sketches.

Woven from the same thread

[Part 2] [Masterlist]

Summary: Coriolanus Snow hungers for control, what will happen when he gives up it up for his own good? What will happen when he finaly meets his match?

Pairing: Sub!Coriolanus Snow x Dom!reader

Warnings: gaslight, gatekeeper, girl boss; dumbification; Coriolanus Snow, mentioned of death and bombings, manipulations.

A/N: purely an excuse to write for submissive Coriolanus. I love me a controlling obsessive man, but I love him more on his knees crying.

Coriolanus Snow who decided getting a cute rich girlfriend would help him in life. He wouldn't love her, he'd discard her immediately the moment he managed to get into university with the plinth prize or if he simply found someone better.

Coriolanus Snow who saw you and your sweet smile and charming innocent eyes and decided that you were going to be his personal piggy bank.

Coriolanus Snow who tries charming you with pretty words and gentlemanly actions, providing as much as he can muster with his unexistable budget. An occasional white rose or a pretty origami would be thrown your way, but that's as far as he could afford to go.

Coriolanus Snow who realizes too late you are a snake like him.

Coriolanus Snow who gapes in horror at you in your lavish room at your parent's penthouse after you reveal it all to him. Telling him how you saw his thinning frame and hollow cheeks, the acidy breath from hunger and the lack of presents or money spent on you had given him away. It was all a hypothesis but his reacting confirmed it.

Coriolanus Snow who is frozen in place, his deepest fear of getting closer to someone and having them find out of his poverty hidden in plain sight made his pale skin loose all semblence of color.

Coriolanus Snow who is on the verge of dropping on his knees and begging(he should) but you run a hand along his jaw and propose a deal. He is the smartest boy in the Academy, presentable and well mannered, he will continue to be your boyfriend and you will keep your mouth shut and wallet open for him as long as he plays by your whistle. It was left unspoken that if he stepped out of line you would air his dirty laundry with no hesitation.

Coriolanus Snow who becomes your personal dog, no matter how much he hates it. You wrote him a check to buy his family some food and pay his rent, as a starting sum, with one of your credit cards.

Having a pretty smart boyfriend was a dream come true for you. Having said boy and holding an unimaginable power over his every move was all you ever wanted. You and him shared the same poison, the same thirst for power, you knew that. But he hadn't, and that is what brought him to his demise.

He lost the battle. He lost the war.

Coriolanus Snow who does all the stereotypical "perfect boyfriend" things. He carries your books, opens the doors for you, pulls your chair out, kisses your forehead sweetly and holds your hand. He was perfect, at performing in public at least. Behind closed doors he still had his bite, no matter how good he could act his ego got the best of him.

You would break him soon enough

You started it small.

Phase 1:

Giving him small commands first in public, where he couldn't let his bravado fall. Telling him to wait for you, to not move, to lift that, do that, etc. Later you did it when there were people of your age or older around. Clearly showing off the power you had over Coriolanus, he had to obey you, his families apartment depended on it. He wanted to snap and not do it, to show he is in fact his own master, but how will he explain to granma' am and Tigris that they had to live on the street because his girlfriend/sugar mommy was too bossy?

Coriolanus Snow who was left to marinate in his own embarrassment in silence, feeling all eyes on him as people's perception of him change. From a proud heir to one of the most important business for the Capitol to a lovesick boyfriend who was his girlfriends servant, with a smile on his face worst of all. He was starting to get used to it. This had been going on for months now, the habit was starting to get rooted deeply.

Phase 2:

It was still a small jump but you started to give him shorter orders, one word commands, expecting him to know what to do- and he did. You'd say "open" and any door would be trust wide open and held for you. You'd say "hold" and thrust whatever you are holding to him without a spare glance. Maybe in the past he would have thrown the expensive purse or books while looking you dead in the eyes like a statement but now he simply waited for you patiently.

Coriolanus Snow who actually threw your books in a fit of rage once and ended up penniless for a month. He had to come to your house timidly after receiving no calls on the private phone you had bought him and no reply as he blew up your line.(he could only call your number and couldn't add or remove it. who else did he need to contact?)

Coriolanus who had to face greater humiliation than what he was used to, as he walked across the private party thrown by your parents, looking for you. The pitiful looks he got wobbling around in his academy uniform, even outside school as he asked around for you. People must have seen him as a kicked puppy, looking for his owner. It wasn't completely false.

Coriolanus Snow who found you in a secret room pointed to him by your mother who had cooed at him pitifully, used to seeing him waddle after you almost daily. You were sitting on large chair behind a wooden desk, looking over some documents. Your gaze snapped to him as he entereed, the faint yellow light from the lamp illuminated his face and made the miserable look in his eyes and blush in his cheeks ever more evident.

He had gotten to eat so good, first class meals, you'd even send a private chef over to his house to cook for him when he was especially good. He had gotten greedy and now going back to slurping bean juice felt unimaginable.

"Your rent is looking ever the higher. Its not looking good."

He hadn't(didnt) want to think about this as he slept on a cold matress, their heating had run out. He missed the taste of luxury. He would do anything to get it back.

"I made a mistake, y/n."

He knew he should do more. He knew you'd like to see him beg and squirm but he didn't think he could handle any more of this if he did. He had felt so much pressure, so such stress to find some food, to worry about rent, to hide the eyebags under his eyes, the humiliation from tonight was almost too much.

"Come here, Coriolanus."

Your voice rang out cold and commanding, but never demanding. You had too much power over him to demand. You pulled the chair back and it's wheels creaked, you put a hand on your thigh in a wordless command. Coriolanus wobbled a bit shakily, trying to maintain some form of dignity as he walked to you. He came to a halt between your legs, looking down at you and creating a shadow over your form. It should have made him feel better, to be in one way on top, but it didn't, he couldn't delude himself anymore, he knew he had no control.

What had you done to him?

"Kneel"

It took him a few seconds but he dropped slowly to his knees, one leg at a time until he was at eyelevel with your knees, sitting on his hinges, since he knew he'd be down here for a while. He stared stubbornly into your eyes, his pale blue eyes shone almost angelically paired with his pink lips. Your pretty puppy, it almsot made you smile. It almost made you forgive him, almost.

"You disobeyed me, Coriolanus. I told you there would be consequences."

"I know, y/n, i know, i wont do it again. I promise."

"I dont believe you."

You say and pick the document you had been reviewing before. You bring them close enough so he can read them too. They were charts and documents of increasing rent money for the apartment building his penthouse was in, the wages of the workers where Tigris worked, a paper with the retirement money his grandma got, paper with the money the country gave him as a compensation since he had lost both of his parents. All the money that his family got and had to spend.

Coriolanus who skims the papers but even the breif look of the numbers told him what he already knew.

He had no future without you. The Hunger games had gotten canceled this year since the death of Felix, the presidents son, the Plinth prize had gotten withdrawn. He had nothing, he could do nothing.

"I gave you everything, Coriolanus. Was your pride worth your future?"

He feels his gaze get hazy, the panic was starting to set in. He had come here to get you back, sure that he would be able to do it, but now he could almost taste your rejection. He was starting to get scared and panicked. He needed you.

"It wasnt- it isnt. Y/n, I made a mistake, plase forgive me. I wont do it again."

He shuffles closer to you subconsciously, looking up at you as his voice grew hoarse. His pride long gone, thrown out the moment he saw the consequences. You place a soft hand on his hair, gripping it gently and he feels the golden ring on your finger, the one with your family's crest made from pure gold, rest heavily on his scalp. You tilt his face up to look at you.

"Beg. Show me how sorry you are."

His mouth opened immediately, no hesitation to beg for you. Maybe he should feel shame to be thrust into this position but all he felt was hope. If you were willing to hear him out it means there is some chance he could get you back.

"Im sorry, y/n, im so sorry. I was stupid, i was greedy, i was arrogant. I wont do it again. Im yours, please"

He hadn't realized he had started crying until his tears pooled and fell, warm and salty, against his lips and on the material of the chair, his long blond lashes clump togetger and his lips redden, the tear streaks down his cheeks and neck glisten in the light and he looks like a painting.

You decide you like him like this best, begging at your feet and crying for your love.

You coo at him sympatheticly even as a smile tugs the corners of your lips. You caress his beautiful locks of hair and wipe his tears away only to lick your fingers.

"My poor baby, no need to cry. Im here now, you remembered where you belong, its okay now, you are okay now."

His breath grows labored and his face twists in pain as more tears follow, he burries his face into the bare skin of your inner thighs and sobs loudly. All the stress had caught up with him. The responsibilities, the fear, the hunger, the thought that he'd lose his anchor, the thought he'd lose you.

Your guidance, your attention, your love. He didn't need to worry anymore, he didn't need to fret and plot to stay at the top, simply being known as your lover was enough. You were the second richest family in Panem, after the President. Coriolanus held much more power than he ever had on his own. People respected him more and he got the cushiony life he had always dreamt of.

He was safe.

His family was safe.

You let him cry, cooing calming words of reassurance as you caress the nape of his neck and the curls of his hair. His big shaky hands envelope your thighs and he holds onto them for dear life.

You knew he would come crawling back once he saw that you meant business and weren't bluffing. It had taken him longer and you respect his resilience but he had funaly come to his senses and back into your arms. A part of you felt a pang of empathy for him, for the poor boy underneath all the masks and facades he had on to survive in this world. You knew when it came down to it he would have murdered him, to remain the shell of the person he is. You don't feel bad for Snow. You felt bad for Coriolanus.

Poor, caring, driven Coriolanus, who might have been good if not for the poison and hunger and fear he had been forced to shoulder.

But you are here now, so he wouldn't have to worry anymore. He can be good. You'll make sure he is your good boy.

Phase 0:

Coriolanus is a smart boy, he probably could predict all the steps of manipulation you had come up with, what he probably hadn't anticipated were the rewards. The additional money, delicious food, new clothes, you'd even found a better job for Tigris (not good enough to pay for the rent ofc). The small touches you'd offered him and the lack of discrimination against his poverty. You'd treated him good and given him a lot.

How could a boy who's only had things taken from him begin to expect anything else? The mentality of take or lose had kept him alive this long, but maybe you wanted to give. He had shared with you in a night of vulnerabilities about his family. How his mother and unborn sister died, hiw his father died, how he was left with only his grandma and Tigris almost broke to survive.

Coriolanus had a lot of potential to be your loyalest dog or biggest enemy depending on how you let him flourish.

That's why you had bought him a phone to call only you, made him dependant only on you, talked with your parents and together you'd managed to cancel the Hunger games, throwing all the district tributes back in their homes, far far away. Especially Lucy Gray, the songbird who was on her way to charm Coriolanus. How you'd agreed the money from the plinth prize should be used on fixing the damage done by the rebelion bombings.

Coriolanus wasn't a good person.

You were simply better at being bad.

gojo vs sukuna live reaction 😆