#SOUND MUSEUM VISION

[naepiyo]

trackmaker

東京・SOUND MUSEUM VISION

[posthumanwanderings]

[ Matinee Sound & Vision flash website (2000) ]

[thebibliosphere]

I’ve had an increase in rainbow aura with my migraines lately (I used to get them once a year, if that. Now, I’ve had it twice in one month) so I’ve become somewhat paranoid whenever something flashes over my vision.

Sometimes, it's just light reflecting off my phone, but it still makes me freeze up in a fear response when it happens because it usually means I’ve got about 20 minutes before I’m in agony.

Apparently, this new paranoia extends into my dreams now, too, because I was running down a long corridor, aware that there was something behind me that I needed to escape, but all of a sudden, in my dream, rainbow zigzags consumed my vision, and I stopped, dead and went, “fuck, migraine.”

That's when I became aware of James Bond/Daniel Craig standing beside me, gun drawn.

“Oh, shit. Do you need to lie down?” he asked while I stared at him.

I said, “What about the thing chasing us?”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, darling. If you need to lie down you can lie down. I’ll just kill them.”

I blinked at him for a bit, still winded from running then said, “Sure,” starting to get to my knees, ready to lie down on the cold stone floor beneath us.

“Sure?”

“Yeah. Kill ‘em. I’m just gonna...” I gestured vaguely at the floor. “Be right here, I guess.”

“You can go upstairs, you know,” he said, loading a fresh clip into his gun. “This museum has a hotel on top of it.”

“Oh good,” I said, starting to suspect this was a dream and not Daniel Craig about to murder the people chasing me because I had a migraine. “I’ll do that then.”

So I got back up and started climbing the stairs that looked an awful lot like the stairs in the Kelvin Grove Art Gallery, only to abruptly walk into Deathstroke and Nightwing doing their best to kill each other in the corridor of what was clearly a hotel based on the room service tray Nightwing was using to deflect projectiles.

They froze. I looked at them. They looked at me. “I’ve got a migraine,” I said,

“Shit, sorry,” Nightwing said, putting down his tray as both men stepped back to let me walk down the decimated corridor. “We’ll be more quiet.”

“Room 13 is open,” Deathstroke helpfully informed me.

“Is there a body in it?” I asked, now leaning against the wall, less walking along, more sliding.

“Not anymore.”

“Do you need anything?” Nightwing asked, “pain killers? Ice pack?”

I waved them off and made my way into room 13 where David Jason dressed as Detective Jack Frost looked up at me from the book he was reading on the bed.

“This is a dream,” he informed me.

“No it isn’t,” I said, despite knowing it was as I hobbled over to the bed and flopped down beside him. “And this room was supposed to be empty.”

“Open, not empty,” corrected Jack Banon who had taken David Frost’s place, dressed like young Alfie from Pennyworth as he sat beside me on the bed, leaning back against the headboard. “There’s a very distinct difference between the two. Oh, don’t look at me like that. Who do you think moved the body?”

“I need to sleep,” I said, “if I can fall asleep, the migraine might go away.”

“That's all right,” he said. “You do that. I’ll make sure no one else comes in. Oh, just one thing before you do.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out something I couldn't quite see and held it out to me. “You’ll need this.”

“What is it?” I said, my brain doing the dream thing where it refuses to read books or interpret numbers correctly. “I can’t see, what is it?”

“Oft, sorry. Can’t tell you that. More than my job’s worth.”

“You’re job...”

“Yeah.” and thats when he leaned over, stuck me with a needle and said, “Night night.”

And I woke up to the sound of @mothman-etd getting into the shower and Holly Mop wiggling under thre covers with me.

First words out of my mouth were, “What the fuck?”

And then I immediately pulled up Tumblr to write this down before I forget it because what the fuck.

Didn't wake up with a migraine though so... *knock on wood*

[blueiscoool]

How Hadrian’s Wall is Revealing a Hidden Side of Roman History

A party invitation. A broken flipflop. A wig. Letters of complaint about road conditions, and an urgent request for more beer.

It sounds like the aftermath of a successful spring break, but these items are nearly 2,000 years old.

They’re just some of the finds from Hadrian’s Wall – the 73-mile stone wall built as the northwestern boundary of the Roman Empire, sealing off Britannia (modern-day England and Wales) from Caledonia (essentially today’s Scotland).

While most of us think of Pompeii and Herculaneum if we’re thinking of everyday objects preserved from ancient Rome, this outpost in the wild north of the empire is home to some of the most extraordinary finds.

“It’s a very dramatic stamp on the countryside – there’s nothing more redolent of saying you’re entering the Roman empire than seeing that structure,” says Richard Abdy, lead curator of the British Museum’s current exhibition, Legion, which spotlights the everyday life of Roman soldiers, showcasing many finds from Hadrian’s Wall in the process. A tenth of the Roman army was based in Britain, and that makes the wall a great source of military material, he says.

But it’s not all about the soldiers, as excavations are showing.

A multicultural melting pot

Hadrian, who ordered the wall to be built in 122CE after a visit to Britannia, had a different vision of empire than his predecessors, says Frances McIntosh, curator for English Heritage’s 34 sites along Hadrian’s Wall.

“All the emperors before him were about expanding the empire, but Hadrian was known as the consolidator,” she says. He relinquished some of the territory acquired by his predecessor Trajan, and “decided to set the borders” – literally, in some cases, with wooden poles at sites in Germany, or with stone in Britannia. Where those poles rotted thousands of years ago, the wall is still standing: “A great visual reminder” of the Roman empire, says McIntosh.

It’s not just a wall. There’s a castle every mile along, and turrets at every third-of-a-mile point, with ditches and banks both north and south. “You can imagine the kind of impact that would have had, not just on the landscape but on the people living in the area,” says McIntosh.

And thanks to the finds from the wall, we know a surprising amount about those people.

Although historians have long thought of army outposts as remote, male-dominant places, the excavations along the wall show that’s not the case. Not only were soldiers accompanied by their families, but civilians would settle around the settlements to do business. “ You can almost see Housesteads as a garrison town,” says McIntosh. “There were places you could go for a drink and so on.”

The Roman rule of thumb was not to post soldiers in the place they came from, because of the risk of rebellion. That meant Hadrian’s Wall was a cultural melting point, with cohorts from modern-day Netherlands, Spain, Romania, Algeria, Iraq, Syria – and more. “It was possibly more multicultural because it was a focus point,” says McIntosh, who says that the surrounding community might have included traders from across the empire.

Soldiers were split into two groups. Legionaries were Roman citizens from Italy, who had more rights than other soldiers and imported olive oil, wine and garum (a sauce made from decomposing fish).

They worked alongside auxiliaries – soldiers from conquered provinces, who had fewer rights, but could usually acquire citizenship after 25 years of service.

Soldiers carved their names and regiments on stones to show which part of the wall they built – around 50 of them are on display at Chesters fort.

But the wall shows that women and children were equally present.

McIntosh says that pottery brought to the camps – from the Low Countries and North Africa – shows that the soldiers “brought their families, who cooked in traditional style.” Archaeologists have found what seems to be an ancient tagine for North African-style cooking.

A tombstone from Arbeia fort for a woman named Regina shows she was a freed slave from southern Britain who was bought by – and married to – a Syrian soldier.

Another woman buried at Birdoswald fort was laid to rest with chainmail that appears to be from modern-day Poland. “Perhaps she married someone in the army,” says McIntosh, who calls the wall a “melting pot of people from all over the world under the banner of the army.”

“They brought their own religions, as well as worshipping Roman gods and adopting local deities,” she adds. At Carrawburgh, a temple to Mithras – an originally Persian deity – sat near a spring with a shrine to a local water spirit.

‘Wretched little Brits’

Some of the most extraordinary finds from the Roman empire are coming from one site on Hadrian’s Wall: Vindolanda. Here, archaeologists have found a wealth of organic remains because of what curator Barbara Birley calls the “unusual conditions onsite.”

At Vindolanda there are the remains of at least nine forts over 14 levels. “When the Romans would leave, they would knock down timber forts, and cover the area with turf and clay, sealing the layers underneath,” she says.

“Because it happened so many times, the bottom five or six layers are sealed in anaerobic conditions, so things don’t decay. When we get down there, we get wooden objects, textiles, anything organic.”

Vindolanda has the largest collection of Roman textiles from a single site in western Europe, as well as the largest leather collection of any site in the Roman empire – including 5,000 shoes, and even a broken leather flip-flop. “We probably had a population of 3,000 to 6,000 depending on the period, so 5,000 is a lot,” says Birley. For Abdy, the shoes evoke the conditions of the wet borderlands. “Women’s and children’s shoes are hobnailed – you needed it in the mucky frontier dirt tracks. They’re very evocative.”

There’s even a wig made from a local plant, hair moss, which is said to repel midges – the scourge of Scotland during the summer. A centurion’s helmet is also crested with hairmoss – the ancient equivalent of spraying yourself with insect repellent.

The first woman to write in Latin

One of the most famous finds is the trove of wooden writing tablets – the largest found anywhere.

“They give a snapshot of what life was actually like,” says Birley. “We understand so much more from written correspondence than from ‘stuff,’ and, archaeologically, it’s the stuff that usually survives – things like metals and ceramics.

“These were written in ink, not on a wax stylus tablet, and we believe they were used for what we’d put in emails: ‘The roads are awful,’ ‘The soldiers need more beer.’ Everyday business.”

The tablets – or “personal letters” as Birley describes them – were found on the site of a bonfire when the ninth cohort of Batavians (in the modern-day Netherlands) were told to move on.

“They had a huge bonfire and lots of letters were chucked in the fire. Some have been singed – we think it may have rained,” she says. One of them calls the locals “Britunculi” – “wretched little Brits.” Another talks about an outbreak of pinkeye. One claims that the roads are too bad to send wagons; another laments that the soldiers have run out of beer.

Among the 1,700 letters are 20 that mention a woman called Sulpicia Lepidina. She was the wife of the commander of the garrison, and seems to have played a crucial role. There’s a letter to her from another woman, Paterna, agreeing to send her two medicines, one a fever cure.

Birley says it’s similar to today. “If you’re a group of moms, still today we say, ‘Do you have the Calpol?’ It’s very human.” For Abdy, it’s a sign that women were traders. “She’s clearly flogging her medicines,” he says. “It’s really great stuff.”

Another tablet is an invite from Claudia Severa, the wife of another commander at a nearby camp. It’s an invitation to a birthday party. Under the formal invitation, presumably written by a scribe, is a scrawl in another hand: “I shall expect you, sister. Farewell, sister, my dearest soul.”

Presumably written by Claudia herself, it is thought to be the earliest example of a woman’s handwriting in Latin.

Without the organic finds – the shoes and the letters that indisputably belonged to women, unlike jewellery or weaving equipment – it’s difficult to prove conclusively that women lived in significant numbers. Vindolanda “illustrate the missing gaps,” says Abdy. For Birley, they prove that women were as crucial a part of army communities as men. “Before the Lepidina tablets were found we didn’t really understand the interactions between the soldiers and their wives,” she says. Another tablet is written by what is thought to be a Spanish standard-bearer’s common-law wife, ordering military equipment for her partner.

“The Vindolanda collection is showing that there weren’t just camp followers and prostitutes; women were part of everyday life, and contributing to the military community in many ways,” says Birley.

Abdy says that Hadrian’s Wall is interesting because the resident women span “all classes of society,” from Regina – the dead freedwoman, who would have been “bottom of the heap” – to the trader Paterna and the noblewoman Lepidina.

And of course, there’s the wall itself.

“In the Netherlands and Germany the finds are often stunning and better preserved – you go to museums and are bowled over. But in terms of structural remains, Hadrian’s Wall must be among the best,” says McIntosh, modestly, of her site.

Abdy agrees: “I can’t think of many symbols so redolent of imperial will than that wall.”

By Julia Buckley.

[borderlinereminders]

Self-Soothing

Self-Soothing skills are mostly physical techniques that use different senses. This is one of the distress tolerance skills. Different things work for different people, but the goal is to use one (or more) of the five senses to give yourself a comfortable experience when you are feeling in distress.

(These are also really great ideas for grounding!)

Here are some examples to try, but don't hesitate to add your own!

Vision:

Go visit a place you love (a museum, aquarium, maybe the beach, or a trail/view point you love.)

Watch a slideshow of your favourite pictures

Look at an aesthetic collage/board you made

Light a candle and watch the flame flicker and the wax gradually melt.

Find a video you like like a wood stove burning, or maybe rain or snow falling.

Touch:

Use a stim toy that you enjoy that has an interesting texture (slime, soft things, etc).

Pet or cuddle your pet!

Hold a favourite blanket, or maybe a stuffed animal.

Take a warm bubble bath

Lay in the grass

Hearing:

Put on your favourite music

Use an auditory stim toy you enjoy (pop tubes, snapperz, etc.)

Listen to nature sounds

Listen to your pet snoring

Go to a park and listen to the sounds of children laughing and playing

Taste:

Have a nice cup of tea, hot chocolate, coffee, etc

Suck on a hard candy

Chew on gum

Eat one of your favourite snacks

Cook a favourite meal

Go grab a favourite drink from somewhere

Smell:

Light a scented candle and focus on the smell

Use incense

Use your favourite body spray/perfume

Go for a walk somewhere where you can smell something you enjoy like the ocean, or fresh baking at the bakery

Bake or cook something to smell it in the oven

Set up a new air freshener

We sometimes feel like we don't deserve these comforts, or it's hard for us to self-soothe on our own without someone to help us. You absolutely deserve these comforts, and while it's valid to get help from others, being able to work on self-soothing for ourselves can be really beneficial to us and our relationships. I made a deal with myself that I will try self-soothing first and then reach out for help if needed after I make a solid effort on my own. The comfort that I still have the option to reach out makes me more willing to try to self-soothe on my own.

If possible, make yourself a goal to try a new self-soothing technique a week to try when you aren't in distress to see how it feels! Trying these distress skills when we aren't in distress can be really helpful to us being able to use them in distress. When you are trying them, make sure to try and focus solely on the technique. If you are using a taste technique, focus only on the taste and enjoyment of whatever it is. (Using mindfulness techniques to achieve this can be helpful!)

[pickingupmymercedes]

My Venus - Lewis Hamilton (NSFW)

A MET Gala Special

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Famous!Reader

warnings: fashion world, sexual activities, (p in v), oral sex

Wrap it before you tap it!!!

wordcount: +3K

a/n: I know it's impossible for anyone to wear the original Venus Dior dress, it's a museum piece and it has been for decades, but it's a fic (and my favorite dress, ever) so let's go with it. Y/n is obviously someone really known in the fashion industry, but I didn't specify how, so it's totally up to you to create a back story.

a/n 2: Kind of a request. I was planning something already but anon gave me amazing ideas, thank horny anon!! Also, smut with a plot, what a shocker for me!!

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

EXPLICIT CONTENT UNDER, -18 DO NOT INTERACT.

______________________________________________________________

Y/n toyed with a stray piece of croissant, her gaze flitting from the cityscape outside to Lewis, who was deep in conversation with his stylist.

Sunlight streamed through the expansive windows on the opulent The Mark Hotel’s suite, a golden glow on the remnants of their breakfast. Crumbs danced on the crisp white tablecloth, a playful counterpoint to the elegant silver service glinting in the corner.

Eric, a man perpetually poised on the precipice of tranquility, leaned forward trying the nonchalantly posture as his eyes danced with curiosity. "Come on, Y/n, spill the beans! We’re all vibrating with suppressed curiosity."

Lewis, in is crisp white tee and black joggers, shot Eric a playful glare. "Thanks for that, mate. Subtlety is your strong suit, clearly." He turned to Y/n, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Seriously, love. The MET is in a few hours, you can tell us."

Y/n, who had mastered her poker face over the last five months of keeping that secret, took a delicate sip of her orange juice. "Let's just say," she drawled, her voice smooth as silk, "it has a very famous sister."

Eric groaned dramatically, throwing his hands up in mock defeat. "Oh, delightful. Lewis, bro, you're on your own with this one."

Lewis chuckled, shaking his head fondly. "You're a menace, Y/n." He winked, a shiver running down her spine despite the playful nature of the exchange. But the silence that followed held a different energy, charged with unspoken anticipation.

Lewis leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "It’s something that is going to steal everyone breath away, so maybe it needs a security detail of its own?"

Y/n couldn't help but let a sly smile curve her lips. "Maybe." she teased, leaning in even closer. The scent of his signature cologne, a heady mix of wood and spice, filled her senses. "Maybe it'll have everyone whispering about who dared to wear such a legend."

A low rumble escaped Lewis' chest, a sound that sent a jolt of excitement through her. " An archive, huh?! " He said, his voice husky

Just then, Eric cleared his throat pointedly. "Right, right, all very hush-hush. But remember, Lewis, you have your Burberry fitting this afternoon. We can't have you looking too shabby next to your mystery woman in archives."

Y/n laughed, a light, tinkling sound that filled the room. "Oh, I'm sure Lewis will manage to steal the spotlight anyway."

Lewis winked again, his gaze lingering on her lips. "A competition, isn't it, love?"

Their playful sparring continued through the rest of the lunch, a delicious undercurrent of unspoken attraction running through their every word and glance. As they finished their coffee, the tension in the air thickened, a silent question hanging between them. It was time to leave, to face the world – and the MET Gala – separately.

But Lewis wouldn't let her go without a final flourish. He stood, his gaze holding hers, and offered a hand with a courtly bow. "Until tonight, my fashionista. May the best dresser win."

_______________________________________________________________

The air crackled with anticipation as Y/n stepped out of the limousine, a vision as the cameras flashed like a sudden storm, capturing the first glimpse of her enigmatic beauty. A collective gasp rippled through the crowd, a palpable wave of awe and recognition as Y/n slowly revealed the legendary Venus dress.

Time seemed to slow. Each step on the red carpet was a carefully choreographed performance, the weight of fashion history settling on her body like a luxurious cloak.

The gown, a masterpiece of delicate embroidery, whispered tales of a bygone era, its every fold a testament to the genius of Christian Dior himself. It clung to her like it had been designed for her. A silent promise of a woman both powerful and breathtakingly beautiful.

Y/n held her head high, a serene and honest smile playing on her lips. Yet, beneath the calm exterior, a thrill coursed through her veins. This wasn't just another red carpet.

Lewis, waiting further down the carpet, watched his breath hitch as she came into view. Initially stunned speechless, his jaw dropped in a way that sent the internet into a frenzy.

Here was the woman he knew, the one who matched his every playful jab with witty retorts, transformed into a goddess. He felt a surge of pride, a possessiveness that went beyond what he had felt before with people looking at her.

This was Y/n, his Y/n, stealing the spotlight of the most known fashion event with an audacity as breathtaking as the gown itself.

It was a declaration, a playful rebellion against expectations, most of them that she had created for herself, as she had stablished her style as the non conformative. Still, in The Garden of Time that was the MET, she was bringing one the most known and iconic flowers back to life.

Microphones were being thrusted in her face, a flurry of questions buzzed around her like excited bees, photographers going maniac at the sight of a dress that had been at an exposition for decades months prior being worn.

"Y/n, this is absolutely iconic! How did you manage to borrow this historical piece?" a seasoned entertainment reporter gushed.

Y/n, ever the diplomat, offered a practiced smile. "Let's just say it took a lot of convincing," she replied, the truth a delightful secret she'd keep to herself. "But I believe it was worth the effort."

"Do you feel any pressure wearing such a significant piece of fashion history?" another reporter chimed in.

An understanding glint sparked in Y/n's eyes. "It's a tremendous honour. But pressure is a luxury I don't have time for tonight. It's all about celebrating art, fashion and Christian Dior himself.” Her wit drew laughter and appreciative nods from the crowd, creating a true vision of a woman stunning and intelligent, truly worthy of the Venus.

As Lewis answered his own fielding questions about his Burberry ensemble, he couldn't help but steal glances at her. Her confidence radiated outwards, a magnetic force that drew everyone's attention. He felt a flicker of pride, ever so slightly tinged with a possessiveness that made him want to shout to the world, 'This is my woman.'

"Lewis," a young reporter, eyes wide with admiration, interjected, "What are your thoughts on Y/n's stunning outfit?"

Lewis, ever the charmer, took a playful dig. "Well, let's just say" he drawled, mirroring her earlier cryptic response, "It was worthy of the months of secrecy. She awed everyone as much as she awes me."

As Y/n went up the stairs she found Lewis at the entrance waiting for her, his eyes boring wholes onto her skin. Lewis leaned close, a hand reaching for hers as his voice a huskily murmured "You're incredible, Y/n," his eyes lingering on her "Absolutely breathtaking, love."

Y/n, feeling the warmth of his gaze on her exposed skin, a secret smile played on her lips. There was a thrill in knowing she had surprised him, in seeing the awe and possessiveness flicker in his eyes.

"You know …” she teased, resting her hands on his shoulders as he reached for her waist, a sequence of flashes going off as they showed affection "This was all about making a statement”.

The throng of bodies inside the museum buzzed with an electric energy. As they navigated the crowded halls, Y/n couldn't help but notice the way heads turned their way. Whispers and glances followed them like a second skin.

Lewis, sensing her amusement, leaned in with a smirk. "Enjoying the attention, love?" he teased, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Oh, absolutely," Y/n deadpanned, batting her eyelashes playfully. "It's not every day I get to feel like a museum exhibit myself."

Lewis chuckled, a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine. "Well, you are a work of art yourself. But you’re also wearing one."

Suddenly, a whirlwind of hair materialized beside them. Zendaya, ever the fashion icon, flashed a dazzling smile. "Y/n, girl! That dress. How?!”

Before Y/n could reply, Zendaya dragged her towards the main exhibition, where Venus’ sister dress – Junon – was center piece, photographers already positioned for the Dior reunion.

Lewis, hovered nearby, a playful smile on his face. Even with the constant interruptions, his gaze never strayed far from Y/n.

As she managed to escape the scene, Y/n couldn't help but notice Lewis's gaze burning into her. "You know," she said, meeting his stare with a smirk, "I can actually feel your eyes searing holes in my dress, Lewis."

He chuckled, leaning closer. "Can't blame a guy for appreciating a masterpiece, can you?" he countered, his voice a husky murmur.

Just as Y/n leaned in to retort, a gaggle of socialites descended upon them. Throughout the pleasantries, Y/n couldn't ignore the heated glances Lewis kept throwing her way. His gaze lingered on the exposed skin of her shoulders, and a playful glint in his eyes hinted at something more than mere admiration.

Finally, as the speeches began and everyone went to their seats, Lewis leaned in close, pulling her towards his side, his voice a husky whisper in her ear. "They can all look, love." his eyes holding hers. "But you're mine."

The speeches droned on, a monotonous hum that Y/n barely registered. Her focus was solely on Lewis, his hand possessively resting on her hand on her lap. The warmth of his touch sent a jolt of electricity through her, a stark contrast to the cool of the dress against her skin.

As the formalities dragged on, the air crackled with unspoken desire. Every brush of their bodies, every stolen glance, fueled a fire that threatened to consume them.

"This is torture," he breathed, his breath tickling a sensitive spot on her neck. "All I want is..." he trailed off, his eyes dropping suggestively to the exposed skin of her chest.

Y/n raised an eyebrown, a delicious mix of excitement and apprehension in her body language. "Finish that sentence, Lewis" she purred, her voice barely a whisper.

“You, alone." he finished, his voice rough with desire. "Somewhere I don’t need to share."

His hand moved up to her shoulders. His fingers finally grazing the edge of the dress, a silent question hanging in the air. Y/n, emboldened by the setting and the audacity of the dress itself, met his gaze with a playful smile.

"There might be a deserted exhibit around the corner," she said, her voice barely above a breath. "One filled with creatures long extinct."

A wicked grin spread across Lewis's face. "Hm…" he murmured, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous glint. Every glance from him felt like a branding iron, searing the memory of him onto her skin.

When the event finally came to its end, they navigated the crowd, Lewis's possessiveness evident in the way he kept guiding her by the small of her back, a silent declaration. Every so often, his eyes would flick to the exposed skin of her shoulders.

They managed to get by the crowds unusually quickly, ushered greetings and nods a clear sign everyone wanted out. But, as they approached the exit, a familiar face beamed at them. Stella McCartney, a vision of elegance in her silver dress, rushed forward to greet Y/n.

"Y/n, you look absolutely phenomenal!" Stella exclaimed, throwing her arms around Y/n in a warm embrace. "That dress! It's absolutely breathtaking."

Y/n put out a smile. "Thank you, Stella. It was an honor to wear such a piece of history." While Stella gushed about the intricacies of the dress, Lewis tried to exchange a knowing look with Y/n.

The unspoken desire simmering between them was palpable, an energy that crackled in the space between them. Just then, a low chuckle caught Y/n's ear. Gayle King, stood nearby, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Lewis" she started, her voice smooth as silk, "I haven't seen you this speechless in years. Y/n, you've absolutely stolen the show."

Lewis, ever the charmer, offered her a playful smile. " You know Y/n, she has a knack for making an entrance."

Gayle, unfazed by his attempt at deflection, turned to Y/n, her gaze sharp and knowing. "You two," she said, linking her arm in Y/n's, "must tell me all about this later. That dress…and the look on Lewis's face… well, that was priceless”

Y/n, her cheeks burning, couldn't help but steal a glance at Lewis. His gaze met hers, a silent conversation passing between them. They both knew Gayle was right, and that everyone had probably also seen his gaze.

As they reached the exit, Gayle pulled Y/n to the side, their voices dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Keep doing whatever you're doing, Y/n" Gayle said, a mischievous glint in her eyes, leaning in even closer "That boy is absolutely smitten.”

Y/n couldn't help but let out a soft laugh "Thanks, Gayle" she whispered back. With a final hug, Gayle retreated to her own car, leaving Y/n and Lewis to get into theirs. The tension between them thick, a charged silence that spoke volumes as Lewis held open the car door for her.

He slid into the car beside her, wasting no time in letting his hand roam up under the dress, reaching her thighs in no time. A devilish grin spreading across his face, leaned in close. "She's right, love" he murmured, his voice husky. "You've got me completely wrapped around your fingers."

The heat of his touch sent a jolt of electricity through her. He caressed the soft skin, his fingers brushing tantalizingly close to her hips. Y/n, unable to contain a shiver, bit her lip. "Lew" she breathed, her voice laced with a playful warning. "Careful now. We're not exactly alone."

He chuckled but continued his exploration, his fingertips brushing against the bare skin just above the hem of her dress. The driver, through the rearview mirror, couldn't help but steal a glance. Y/n, catching a glimpse of his reflection, couldn't help but feel a thrill of exhibitionism mixed with a playful desire to tease Lewis further.

As Lewis's hand continued its ascent, his fingers brushed against a smooth, unexpected surface. He paused, his brow furrowing in confusion. A beat of silence hung in the air before it dawned on him. No underwear.

"Couldn't risk an underwear line ruining this moment" her voice laced with a playful challenge. The audacity of her statement, coupled with the realization, made his breath hitch in his throat, raw desire clouding his eyes.

He pulled his hand back abruptly, a silent promise hanging in the air. The confined space crackling with unspoken desire.

As Y/n stole a glance at him, her heart pounded in her chest. He was trying to control himself, a clear struggle evident in the way he held his breath and clenched his jaw. The bulge in his trousers, who had been previously concealed by his trench coat, was now a very visible sign to his arousal.

"Not long until we get back, Love" Lewis finally managed, his voice husky with frustration. He leaned back in his seat, running a hand through his braids in a frustrated gesture. Y/n, a satisfied smile playing on her lips, let out a low chuckle.

Relief washed over both of them as they pulled into the hotel. A small army materialized around them. Her team, ever-efficient, whisked them towards her suite, their focus solely on getting her out of the Venus dress.

Throughout the undressing, Lewis hovered on the periphery, his eyes laser-focused on Y/n. He watched with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine. Every so often, he would discreetly lick his lips, a gesture that spoke volumes of his pent-up desire.

The process was a delicate ballet – a team of stylists unhooking intricate clasps, another carefully lowering the billowing skirt. Finally, wrapped in a plush towel, Y/n stood alone with Lewis, her team discreetly melting away, a knowing smile playing on their lips.

Lewis crossed the room in two long strides, the heat of anticipation crackling in the air between them. His hand reached out, almost hesitantly, to brush a strand of her now loosened hair. The touch, seemingly casual, sent a jolt of electricity through her, igniting a fire that had been smoldering all evening.

"There you are," he murmured, his voice husky with desire. "Beautiful, captivating, and all mine. Only mine."

His words hung in the air like a promise, the most possessive claim she had ever heard from him. They resonated deep within her, stirring something primal. As her heart pounded in her chest, she couldn’t help but lean into his touch, seeking solace and desire in his embrace.

"All yours," she whispered, her voice thick with longing. Their lips met in a searing kiss, a collision of pent-up desire and raw emotion. In that moment, the playful banter of the night melted away, replaced by a raw hunger that neither could – or wanted – to deny.

Each second ticked by like a whisper of urgency. They had only about twenty minutes before they were due to leave for the after-party. With practiced efficiency born of desire, she threw the towel onto the bed, leaving herself bare before him, a silent invitation hanging in the air.

Lewis's eyes roamed over her, a smirk playing on his lips as she reached down to undress him from his pants. "Don't have time for that, love," he murmured, his hands stopping hers with a swift motion.

With a sudden shift of momentum, he flipped her, his hands tracing over her tummy as he left a trail of kisses along her shoulder. Each kiss sent a shiver of anticipation coursing through her, her breath hitching with every touch of his lips against her skin.

His hands ventured lower with each kiss, until they reached her folds, his touch igniting a primal hunger within her. A low growl escaped his lips as his fingers delved into her depths, drawing out her arousal with a skillful touch that left her trembling with desire.

Feeling the urgency of their fleeting moments, she flipped around, dropping to her knees to palm him through his boxers. The outline of his thick arousal was already prominent, and she freed it eagerly, the velvet hardness filling her hands. With practiced skill, she teased him, eliciting a delicious hiss of pleasure as she took him into her mouth, savoring the taste of him.

But time was slipping away and they both knew it. Five minutes had already slipped by, according to the bedside clock. His hands gripped her chin, pulling her up "I promise later we can take our time, but I need your pussy right now," he breathed, urgency lacing his words with a desperate plea.

With a hungry nod, she positioned herself, elbows resting on the armchair, presenting herself to him with a silent invitation. The tip of his arousal teased her entrance, collecting her slickness before he plunged into her with a single, deep thrust. A sharp cry escaped her lips as he bottomed out, his hands soothing the skin of her hips as he waited for her signal to move.

"Lew" she moaned, her voice a desperate plea for release. His fingers circled her clit, igniting a fire within her as he began to move, each thrust driving her closer to the edge of oblivion.

It didn't take long before she was panting, her body trembling with the force of her climax. Lewis held her close, whispering words of encouragement as she rode the wave of ecstasy, her senses overwhelmed by the intensity of their shared passion.

As she steadied herself, he resumed his frenzied thrusts, his movements becoming more urgent as he neared his own release. With a final, deep thrust, he spilled himself inside her, holding her tightly as their bodies trembled with shared pleasure, the world fading away into a haze of ecstasy.

When he pulled out, she turned into his embrace, cupping his face in her hands as she gazed into his eyes, her heart overflowing with emotion. "They can look all they want, but you're the one here," she declared, pulling him into a passionate kiss, sealing their bond with a promise of devotion and desire.

His hands left her only briefly to clean her up before dressing himself, his movements slow and deliberate as he savored the lingering moments of what had just happened.

As he emerged in his Dior attire, abs on full display, Y/n's eyes sparkled, a playful challenge in her voice. "Guess, you're the one drawing all the attention now," she teased as she admired him.

Lewis chuckled, his gaze lingering on her in the black Dior mini. "You don't look too bad yourself, love," he countered, his voice a low rumble.

He pulled her close, his hand trailing down her back. "But trust me," he murmured, his lips brushing her ear, "tonight, the only eyes I care about are yours."

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @happy-golden-hour @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

@fearfam69691 @cmleitora

[deepfrost-citadel]

"You know," Xisuma said, peering cautiously over Cub's shoulder at the museum's latest addition, "When you said you wanted to show me a new exhibit, I wasn't expecting…" He trailed off.

Evil Xisuma glowered at him from inside their enclosure.

"…This."

To say Evil X looked a little miffed about the situation would be an understatement. At least Cub had done a nice job decorating, Xisuma thought, between the blackstone and crimson wood, Evil X looked right at home - if they weren't sitting grumpily in their 2-by-1 lava pool, surrounded by the mangled remains of whatever Cub had put in there for enrichment.

"Surprise!" Cub grinned, doing jazz hands at the enclosure, "I know what you might be thinking-"

Xisuma doubted that somehow.

"- 'Cub, Evil Xisuma hasn't done anything this season! They aren't a historic artefact! They shouldn't be in a museum!' But!" Cub wagged a finger triumphantly, "They are important to the history of Hermitcraft as a whole. So really, if you think about it, they definitely belong in a museum."

"… Okay?"

"Glad we're on the same page."

Xisuma wasn't sure if anyone was ever on the same page as Cub. Except maybe Scar.

"Now! As you can see, I've been decorating their enclosure, trying to add some interactive elements for guests and such." Cub pointed towards a line of redstone lamps at the top of Evil Xisuma's enclosure, "These show you how much electricity they're generating when they do their lightning hands thing. I'll be honest with you, it's broken a few times already so it's still a work in progress-"

"… Is that what all the lightning rods are for?" Xisuma frowned, eyeing the entirely lightning rod-ed ceiling.

"It is indeed!" Cub said, ignoring the twinge of concern in Xisuma's voice, "Well, a little. Mostly it's a safety thing, it wouldn't be good to have guests being electrocuted, now would it?"

"I suppose not… And it definitely works?"

"Oh yeah, it's been very thoroughly tested. Hey, Evil Xisuma," Cub walked up to the glass and tapped on it a few times, much to Xisuma's silent horror, "Wanna show X how the lightning rods work?"

In response, Evil Xisuma stuck their middle finger up at him and yelled something muffled to almost inaudibility that sounded a little like: "When I get out of here, I'm going to rip your head off and use it as a coffee mug, you stupid e-boy twink."

The pair on the other side of the glass blinked.

"… That's a no then." Cub turned back to Xisuma, "They do this a lot."

"They certainly do," Xisuma nodded faintly.

"You can probably tell the glass is uh... Mostly noise-cancelling, had to install that because Helsknight is in the next enclosure over and he's still hibernating. You know how Wels gets when you wake him up early, don't wanna find out how that guy is."

"… Of course," Xisuma sighed, pinching the nose bridge of his helmet, "Do I want to know how you got hold of those two?"

Cub laughed in the slightly unhinged way that gave Xisuma visions of Cub spending several weeks toying with the evil hermits as he hunted them for sport, "Nah man, it's not an interesting story."

Somehow, Xisuma doubted that.

"Anyway," Cub said, changing the topic before Xisuma could ask if he knew there was still someone's blood on his left sleeve, "What I really called you for is that I need an Evil Xisuma expert, and you're the man to ask about all things Evil Xisuma."

"Except for Evil Xisuma."

"Except for Evil Xisuma, yes." Cub nodded sagely, "So. Obviously I wanna make sure everything is nice for our new residents, give them plenty of enrichment and all that, but it hasn't been working out so far."

"I can see that."

"Soo… Any suggestions? What kind of thing does Evil X like? Food? Blocks? I dunno, fake derpcoin or something?"

Xisuma hummed, tilting his head in thought as he gazed at Evil Xisuma, who had clambered out of the lava pool to press their hands against the glass and give Xisuma the saddest, most pathetic puppy dog eyes their LED screen could muster (which, admittedly, were very sad and pathetic) in a silent plea to not leave them here with that madman, they'll be good for realsies this time they promise-

"Well," Xisuma said, turning to Cub, "They like to knit, so maybe they'd like some wool… Oh! And if you can find any old Wormman merch, they'll love that too."

Evil Xisuma's head hit the glass with a despairing thunk.

[love-is-a-dagger]

Rain

Marc Spector x seer!reader/ slight Steven grant x seer!reader

Being stuck between the future, past snd present is hard work, thankfully you have the boys

Tw: mention of blood, an attempt at a horror?

I’m just really in love with heleana from house of the dragon and just got obsessed with moonknight again, this is my first fic in like a year and a bit and it’s all new again lol, this description sucks but I swear it gets better. I’m just in love with the boys being involved with seer reader but idk how to put it to works, hope you all enjoy 🫶🏻🫶🏻

Rain. You always loved the sound and the feeling and the smell of it, everything. The rain also made it hard to see, made everything blurry in your head, maybe it was the constant sound or maybe the cold, but whenever it rained, you’d be staring out the window for ages, just staring blankly.

Screaming, constant screaming, then a cold feeling in your stomach

Flashes of different places, old and new. It was hard to see where you where sometimes. But the second you felt a presence on your shoulder, you were back in your flat London.

“Love?”

You’ve been like it for a while, half an hour to be exact, sat in your shared bed, watching the rain fall from the window. He almost thought you where frozen had he not seen you blink.

He knew about your gift, or curse, it interested Steven. To be able to see into the future or past, he knew it haunted you sometimes, when loud noises or flashes scared you and you had to hide in his shoulder, it was cute but he knew it wasn’t always fun for you.

He watched as you slowly turned to face him, a blank face soon turned into a smile hard to hide. You always felt a little silly whenever one of the boys found you like that.

“I’m okay” you nodded to yourself, still in a slight trance. His hand travelled to your upper arm and his other hand joined the other. He sat on the bed next to you, rubbing gently into your arms, the feeling of his hands was nice, he saw how you always held onto things after being out, the feeling of something always helped being you to the present.

He has a handsome face, you realised after seeing him in your first vision of him when you were 16, it was a random day yet to come when you first met him, it was Steven you met first in your visions, you can’t remember all the details but he was cuddling you and talking about your recent visit to his old job at the museum.

You watched as he looked at you, trying to figure if it was a good vision or a bad one. This was a rare occurrence now days, but you still felt embarrassed whenever it happened. His eyes became too much and you looked down, looking at the loose piece of skin next to your nail.

Steven, let me

Steven looks over to the reflection of the glass to see marc watching, his brows scrunched together, concerned for you.

You felt his eyes on you, his hand left your arm and his fingers pushed your chin up to face him. His face hardened, and you knew it was no longer your bubbly boy.

“I know baby” gently, he pushed a bit of loose hair away from your eyes, his hand made home to your cheek. You matched him and your left hand met his face, his flushed cheeks finding you comfort.

You move your mouth to try and make sense of what you saw. You never had full moments, only flashes. Marc watched as your eyes searched his for the answer, his hands never leave their spot.

Blood everywhere, you couldn’t see where it was coming from, all you knew was that you wanted your boys. The copper smell burnt your nose, making your crinkle your nose trying to avoid it.

“I-I think Steven wants another fish”

Smiling, Marc’s lips met your forehead. He loved your gift, the nonsense, the drama, everything.

He felt the soft giggles that escaped, as his lips left your head, your eyes meet and your smiles match.

She’s so pretty

Marc couldn’t help but agree with Steven, you were breathtaking, with everything you did.

Suddenly, feeling the trapping tightness of the curse leave you mind, you jumped off the bed, slightly making your boyfriend jump.

You legs feel numb, so does the rest of your body. You found yourself walking to the window, still felling his eyes on you, you open the window. Taking a deep breath of the fresh air, you spin around.

Marc was already looking at you with love struck eyes, a slight smirk on his mouth as he leans on his arm, watching your every move.

“Get up” you demand, making marc tilt his head and rise his eyebrows, very amused. But doing as he’s told, he gets up, each step of his feet getting slightly louder as he approaches.

Flapping his hands, If asking what now. Watching as you make a sudden movement to grasp his hand, the other meets his shoulder.

Confused for all but a second as you start slightly swaying, dancing to the rain. The warmth of his body is nice, a nice contrast to the wet weather. He smells nice too, you notice, guessing by the smell, Jake woke up with the body today, a rich smelling fragrance meets your nose as you hide your face into his shoulder. His spare hand meets the back of your head, comforting you as you snuggle to his chest.

He watches you as you close your eyes and breath him in, never in a million years would he think he would end up here, the love of his life in his hands and two new brothers. He never knew, but you did. You knew everything.

[phantomskeep]

WIP Wednesday - Fun In Funeral

For my DCxDP Dead On Main thief!Danny fic, Putting The "Fun" Back In "Funeral". Best read while listening to Ascensionism by Sleep Token

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“I am not a cat boy!” The boy wearing a cat skull protested.

“Then what are you, a discount Catwoman?” Jason asked as he prowled closer to the pouting thief.

“I don’t even know who that is!” Cat Boy continued to lie. “This,” he gestured to the bone-colored mask covering his face, Lazarus green eyes narrowing in distaste, “Is a fashion statement. Nothing more, nothing less. I just- I don’t even know why it’s a cat!”

None of that really made sense to Hood, but keeping a criminal monologuing? Part of Robin 101 - the more they’re distracted, the better chance at them messing up. “So why a cat, then?”

“I just said I don’t know!”

Hood didn’t respond, catching the cat-themed-thief’s stance relaxing by a miniscule amount. With no hesitation, Jason lunged forward - fully intending to football-style tackle the pouting figure into the concrete roof.

In the next few seconds, Jason would recount later to the rest of the Birds and Bats, he had no idea what happened.

He was in the air - arms outstretched to wrap around the other’s torso in a mockery of a hug. He saw the thief’s eyes widen, a startled yelp leaving his mouth. When Hood flew closer to the occultly-dressed thief, it was like a rush of sparkling heat bubbled up through his lung, tearing viciously at his esophagus before laying stagnant in his covered mouth. Already caught off guard, Jason sputtered - failing to land the tackle onto the lithe man in front of him. Instead, Jason fell a few inches short of the man, on his knees with his gloved hands clutching desperately at his throat and chest.

The other didn’t hesitate to dance out of Hood’s reach as the helmeted vigilante coughed in a vain attempt to clear his airways from the heat-sparkle-power-danger that welled inside him. Not-Catwoman stood to the side, head cocked like a curious crow inspecting a shiny coin. While Hood was still doubled over catching his breath, the thief wisely used the opportunity to glide further out of reach.

“I’m almost scared to ask if you’re okay,” Catboy’s voice echoed around them. “But then again… You did just try to shoot me.”

“It was just a warning shot.” Hood coughed out, his words scratchy as he forced them past the invisible sludge that lodged itself in his throat. The Pit Rage stirred in the back of his mind, slowly creeping to the area it used to occupy and whisper. “Give back whatever you stole before I shoot you for real.”

The cloaked man rocked on his heels, jutting his hip out and tapping at his chin with a clothed finger. Hood couldn’t see Catboy’s full expression, but he had long since perfected the art of reading masked individuals when he was thirteen and still wearing Dick’s old scaly panties. The person in front of him was practically radiating smug little sibling vibes.

“How about,” the modulated voice drew out. “I don’t, and I continue on with my extremely successful handjob!”

Jason spluttered in confusion, caught halfway between howling in laughter or rage, as the cat-themed thief jumped off the museum’s roof. The sound of a grapple rang out as the little criminal soared into the polluted Gotham skies. The Rage screamed, pushing Jason’s limbs to take off without a second thought. Green overcame his vision as the high came tearing back in full force, dragging Jason down like a man caught in an undertow. His body gave chase to the masked individual running from the museum, racing across the darkened rooftops in hot pursuit.

The Pit Rage stuck its greedy claws into Jason’s mind and pulled. What happened around him became a green-tinted blur - flying after the thief’s form, firing pot shots when the two were parkouring along the Gotham skyline, a strained voice shouting as the bullets missed. The overwhelming sensation of rage-rage-chase-friend-predator-rage-fight-fear-play-rAGE drowned out any sense of rational thought. It was like Jason was in the backseat again, watching as he lost control of his life as the choices he made as a teen came back to haunt him in divine punishment. He fought against it, just like he did when the Rage took his body to the Titans Tower. Like when he was so beneath the power of the Pit that he took out everything on a highschool kid. All the progress he had made over the last three years - washed away because of a man in a catsuit.

The mere hours he had of quiet peace almost made fighting against the Rage so much harder - Jason knew what it was like again, to not have to battle against his own thoughts every second of the day. To not look at a single act of kindness as some convoluted plot to trap him like a feral, rabid dog. The void in his chest, a grief-stained black hole of bad decisions, warred with the Rage for its own spot in the young man’s own tale of self-sought retribution against himself.

This? This was Jason’s own personal hell. To be alone, trapped inside his mind, while his body was controlled by a green-tinted monster. When his actions were no longer dictated by himself and the worst parts of him came out to play.

When Jason finally wrestled back control, kicking and screaming and fighting his own thoughts like it was the only thing he knew how to do, he found himself leaning against someone’s rooftop greenhouse, alone. The cloaked thief was nowhere in sight, and the ex-crime lord hesitated against nosing around for hints of where he might have absconded off to.

Based on a familiar stretch of cargo cranes, he deduced that he ended up between Gotham University and the docks. The black-haired man took a moment to himself, checking to see how many rounds he had fired (eight, he had emptied an entire clip, because of course he did) and if there was any blood clinging to his uniform (not his, never his, why was it never him–). When he wasn’t able to find anything, Jason forcefully shook out his body, trying to get rid of the built-up tension and stress. It helped him relax, marginally, but did nothing for the painful pressure behind his eyes pounding in time with his heart. The Pit Demon lounged in the back of his brain, oozing an air of self-satisfaction that made Jason want to claw at his own head until it stopped.

“Fuck,” he muttered, shoulders sagging. This entire situation was… not good. Jason didn’t even want to think about talking to the rest of the Bats about this, but. It had been a long time since an episode that bad. He didn’t know if he could control himself if something else set him off, but he wasn’t prideful enough to risk innocent people to a Rage-filled Red Hood.

[julsvu]

wonder trio : favorite type of date ?

SHOTO TODOROKI is in need and has been yearning for tranquility and quiet all his life. away from loud voices, and chaos. his heart is the embodiment of soft, and gentle love. the kind where both of you would find each other planning a future together, but without uncertainty or hesitation. the kind of love where the sound of papers crinkling under your hands as you attempt to make paper rings sound like wedding bells instead of actual paper. shoto adores going into art museums, adoring the many pieces of art— including you.

KATSUKI BAKUGOU is the personification of fiery passion and unstoppable energy. the tough walls that surround him is as tough as his own personality— mirroring his physical strength, his love for training and competition. talking about strength, the blonde would love gym dates, where you two challenge each other with beating hearts, passing your limitations while the air is intoxicated by thrill and andrenaline. it’s a stupid thought, but does he have his sweat— which is like nitroglycerin, in his heart? maybe that’s why it suddenly feels like on the verge of exploding every time he looks at you.

boundless curiously was something that seemed to swim in IZUKU MIDORIYA’S heart daily. his favorite date is one spent in a cozy bookstore, where each aisle is a treasure trove of stories waiting to be uncovered. with izuku, the simple act of browsing through shelves becomes almost an ethereal act, his love for adventure and learning shining through with every page turned. being in that bookstore with him, surrounded by the scent of paper and the promise of new worlds and visions, feels like living in a storybook where every moment is filled with happy endings and endless possibilities.

© 2024 JULSVU. all rights reserved. please don't plagiarize, translate, put in other websites or copy my work without permission. ty!

[invisiblestringmm]

chapter four

i’ll tell you the truth but never goodbye

a/n: i hope this chapter makes you cry 😂

tw: there’s a bit of angst, and definitely lots of fluff. y/n struggling with being a single mum. mason being a gorgeous mf. lily being the cutest human, lots of lily appreciation too.

3.100k words

It didn’t come as a surprise to see Jaz keeping her promise to support you as best as she could - you got daily FaceTime calls, texts, and Instagram DMs. You got post-ballet dinners and ice cream, the four of you becoming closer each day - Lily and Summer were inseparable now, and you had Jaz not getting tired of telling you she felt like you’d become the sister she never had.

Not being able to control where your thoughts went, your mind made you question a few times how it would’ve been having this extra support when you were pregnant, and you asked yourself if you’d ever stop being hunted by the countless what-ifs of yours and Lily’s life. You had to stop and take a deep breath and just force yourself to focus on all the wonderful things that were happening now, and how much you wanted them to still be this way when it was time to tell Mason, and everyone else.

Despite having Jaz reassure you that things would end up well, Mason was pretty much unknown territory to you, emotionally speaking - yes, you gave birth to his “mini-me”, but that was no guarantee that you were able to predict him. Not knowing what to expect should’ve made you stay as far away as possible from him, but after you had a text message from Jaz sharing the big news that Mason would be at the ballet recital, while you watched your daughter roll her eyes in the delight as she devoured the pancakes and strawberries on her plate, you decided to reply to that message he had sent you weeks ago.

What you didn’t expect was for him to reply within less than a minute.

“Mummy, are you okay?” Lily had her eyebrows frowned at you, she curiously scanned your probably pale face as your heart pounded against your chest. A simple nod was enough for her to focus back on the pancakes, but also give you occasional and quick glares as your shaky hands tightly held the phone.

You barely had any appetite left as you felt your stomach dropping when Mason texted that - so, he wanted to see you. It wasn’t time yet, at least, it didn’t feel like it. But should the ballet recital be the best place to meet him? Would you be able to act surprised and sustain casualty at that meeting that’d be sort of arranged by his sister?

So many questions and insecurity surrounded you whenever Mason was on your mind, and having to look into Lily’s hazel eyes, her smile, and everything else on her that was his copy only made it worse for you - it was nearly suffocating, and you just needed a mother and daughter moment to focus on anyone but Lilian.

“Peanut,” you poked her tummy, making her giggle. “Why don’t we have a girl's afternoon today, huh? Museum, whatever you want for lunch and we can wrap it with skincare and Moana!”

Lily stood on the chair - your instinct making you hold her arm - and made her little celebration dance, still chewing the pancake, her dark brown soft curls bouncing. That vision completely took your breath away, you often couldn’t believe such a precious girl was your daughter.

Not that all of your days weren’t already hers, but dedicating a whole day off to Lily was your favourite thing to do. When she was just a baby, you often imagined how these days would be, with your little best friend and soulmate, on coffee dates and nights where you’d light up a scented candle and read her a book. The way your voice soothed her was Lily’s favourite thing, combined with your smell. It made her feel safe like nothing could ever harm her. In her dreams, her daddy joined the two of you - she couldn’t see his face but could feel the warmth of his hand holding hers and his laugh was the best sound in the world. Lily wondered if she’d ever meet him, the only thing she knew and was happy about was the fact that she looked like him, as you’ve told her countless times.

Careful not to lose Lily from your sight as she walked three steps in front of you, her eyes not sure what she wanted to focus her attention on at the museum, your mind went back to Mason’s last words to you that morning. So, he wanted to apologise for the way he treated you. Part of you felt good about it, that he had finally recognised what a complete twat he had been, but the other part of you just thought how that made no difference now - it was in the past. Not buried, since your past with him had taken the most angelic human form, but it wouldn’t change things. It was all about the future now.

For lunch, Lily insisted on spaghetti, her all-time favourite food. You had to persuade her a bit to eat a bit of protein too because pasta would make her feel hungry again by the afternoon, and you knew how much she hated being hungry right before taking a nap - your persuasion included the word dessert, so not much time was wasted trying to convince her to accept some chicken with her pasta.

Your phone buzzed with a real-time picture of Jaz and Summer by the time you had just bought a gorgeous bouquet of yellow roses, Lily’s favourite. She insisted that a good girls’ night would only be complete if you had fresh roses, that she wanted to carry herself. You quickly snapped a picture of her and sent it to Jaz, asking why they’d have to grow up so fast and that her niece was insufferable.

“Can you please behave like a child and not like an adult, Lilian Maisie?” like a little kid, you pouted, suddenly emotional to see so much wit and wisdom in your tiny human.

Lily giggled, “Mummy!” she held your hand, placing a soft kiss against it and walking according to your pace. “Can we go home now?” You nodded, quickly fetching an Uber to drive you home.

By the time you got there, she was already heavily sleeping in your arms as you clumsily also carried your purse and the flowers, and tried to open the door without troubling her sleep - if it was up to you, you’d find a way for mums to have an extra pair of arms, they’d definitely be useful in times like these.

You knew Lily wouldn’t sleep that much, so the sofa was where you put her before putting the roses in the water and getting rid of your coat. It was almost dark outside, so you also started to prepare the apartment for movie night. Your little girl woke up with a loud yawn that was followed by a wide smile when she noticed the blankets and pillows on the floor, some candies in a bowl, and fruits too, which were her favourite snacks.

“Matching pyjamas?” you winked at her and giggled as Lily nodded repeatedly, stretching her arms at you so you’d carry her to the bedroom.

A few minutes later you were cuddling under the blankets and watching Moana for the millionth time. You fell asleep shortly before the film ended and were quickly followed by Lily as she hummed an “I love you, mummy” and kissed the tip of your nose.

Despite not being the most comfortable place for your back to spend the night, there was no other place you’d rather be right now, holding your daughter's warm and small body - the smell of her strawberry shampoo and the pace of her calm breathing taking you to a place where no nightmares, no worries, would catch you in your sleep. You woke up in the middle of the night when she moved a bit and, after watching her sleep for a few minutes, finally turned off the TV and quickly texted Mason before going back to sleep.

When you woke up, there was a message from Jaz saying that they’d all go out for dinner after the ballet recital, and as hard as it was, you had to politely decline for you’d have a little celebration with your own family in a pre-Christmas party since a few members wouldn’t be joining at Foxwoods this year. And that you wouldn’t be able to be around Mason before telling him all the truth, which led to you telling her that he had reached you and you agreed to talk. She went from upset to hopeful in the blink of an eye.

As you prepared for the recital, you had to deal with an impatient and bossy Lily - combined with stress from work, that you had to forcefully turn into home office for the Holidays, the exhaustion that took over your body grew by the minute. It resulted in calling your mum for help, who showed up with your dad on her side by your door.

“You know she’d ask for me anyway, kid!” Your always cheerful father rubbed his hands together as he went straight for his granddaughter, who waited for him with her arms up, waiting to be spun around like a doll. You loved how your dad, a serious and famous lawyer, turned so soft whenever Lily was around - and now, how he’d cope with having to eventually “share” her with her other grandfather.

“Where do you need me to begin, amor?” Your mother’s heavy Colombian accent woke you up, and a sigh of relief parted your lips as you pulled her into a hug. “What is wrong, bebe? Tell your mamá,” Her hands softly stroked your back as you just closed your eyes and enjoyed being the daughter instead of being the mum.

“It’s nothing, I’m just exhausted. I thought that being one of the bosses would give me more free time but it’s just more work, and Lily is insufferable with this recital thing,” you sniffed. “I’m so glad it’s finally tomorrow.”

But you also weren’t, because it meant you’d see Mason after five years.

-

If anyone told you that your daughter’s ballet recital would be the place you’d almost certainly meet her father again, especially without him being the father of another kid there, you’d just roll your eyes and leave - as you stood in front of your closet, not sure about what to wear, your mind played tricks on you creating different scenarios on how that meeting would go. There was so much expectation from you, so much anxiety to see how Mason would react. He thought you’d meet for coffee sometime soon, not at a ballet recital where you were the mother of one of the kids.

Much to your relief, Willow arrived at your place right on time to save you from a breakdown over “what to wear to meet the father of my daughter after five years without looking like an exhausted mother, but also drop-dead gorgeous, and respectful”.

“Lord, that’s specific!” Willow screeched, not really helping you, in the end. “Why do you want to impress him anyway?”

“Willie, I know you’re smarter than this,” you replied as she just shrugged, still waiting for an answer. You got a positive reaction when you picked a knit burgundy dress, so you tried it on and what you saw in the mirror made you satisfied. “The next time I see him it’ll be to tell him the truth, so he needs a good first second impression.”

“His first impression of you was good enough,” she teased, watching your cheeks blush as she helped to remove the dress tag. “But you’re wearing a brand new dress for him tonight, so I’m sure the second impression will be just as good.”

“Stop it, silly. You know it’s not like this, and he doesn’t know it’s a new dress.”

Willow kept teasing you with her glares and smirks as the five of you drove to the small theatre rented for the night by the ballet studio, it was already a bit crowded when you got there and you rushed to take Lily to the backstage, where all her ballet friends greeted her in excitement. It truly was the cutest thing in the world, those little humans in their tutus, giggling and chatting like they were grown-ups.

With a quick and wet kiss on your daughter’s cheek - that made her adorably embarrassed - and a hug on Summer, you told the girls how wonderful they were and left to find your family. You quickly spotted Willow and Jaz laughing about something that made you curious, and although you were happy to see Jasmine, you also hoped it’d take a little longer to meet her and, potentially, the rest of her family. And Mason, to be more specific.

“He’s not here yet,” like she could read your mind, Jaz’s words caused you to sigh in relief. “You look gorgeous, by the way!”

Smiling at her, you softly stroked her bump. “You too, pretty mumma.”

As the lights dimmed down, announcing that the recital would begin soon, you and Willow parted ways from Jaz to meet your family. Your dad held your hand and gently squeezed it, his eyes already sparkling with tears - the truth was you couldn’t have done it without your parents, but your dad was something else. It was expected that being showered with affection would be something you’d get from your mum, who was a Latina, but you got it all from your dad because, according to him, you were the result of how much he adored your mum and Lily was an extension of that. His legacy, as he’d say. He never questioned your choices, the way you raised your daughter, nor why you never talked about who Lily’s father was. The respect your parents had for you was overwhelming, and that’s why you’d tell the whole truth tonight as soon as Lily was peacefully asleep.

When the five-year-olds act began, you were the one ready to let some tears roll down your cheeks. There she was, your Lilian Maisie, as beautiful as ever on her first ballet performance - something you never truly expected, since she had always been the adventurous type of kid. But you watched her balance it so perfectly that you often questioned if she was just five years old, and also how she’d be as a grown woman. As she danced, you had a clear vision of Lily in her early twenties. She was tall, her hair was a bit darker now but the soft curls were still there and so was the natural flush on her cheeks. She was beautiful and finally looked a bit more like you, but Mason’s smile was still there. She was kind, full of hope, funny, gracious and so smart. She was loved by everyone around her and made their lives better by simply existing.

When her act ended, you proudly stood up and clapped your hands as if your life relied on it. Her eyes scanned the audience, looking for you, and when she finally found you her face lit up and that smile you loved so much was there, making your heart melt. “I love you,” you mumbled, and she just winked at you.

Gosh, there was no way Mason wouldn’t love this girl to the point his heart would nearly explode. You wanted him to have it too.

Excusing yourself as the older girls got on stage, you went to the bathroom to fix your makeup. As you looked at yourself in the mirror, you searched for your phone and, with a courage you hadn’t felt in the longest time, you typed a quick message to Mason asking if he’d be willing to meet the next day, in the afternoon.

What you didn’t expect was to find him right outside, holding his phone with a wide smile on his lips.

Mason Mount looked as gorgeous as he’d ever been - you could smell his cologne even if you were at least ten steps away from him. Wearing black jeans, and a Dior sweater that made him look breathtakingly gorgeous, Mason ended the distance between you as you felt your heart beating faster each second. He was still holding his phone when he stopped in front of you.

“I literally just texted you back saying yes,” he ran his fingers through his hair and that was as sexy as you remembered. Mason had a beard now, and although he was still young, the wrinkles on the corners of his eyes were more evident now. “You’re the last person I thought I’d meet here.”

You nodded, forcing your brain to put some words together. “You too.” Lie. But you had to make it look like it was just a coincidence.

“You look incredible, Y/n,” Mason said under his breath, his eyes shamelessly scanning your outfit. That same pair of eyes was your favourite thing to look at every morning. Now you knew what Willow meant when she said that Lily and Mason were identical - how could he not notice when they met? “There’s so much I wanna say to you,” he continued.

“Save it for tomorrow.” You interrupted, not wanting to sound rude, and Mason nodded in agreement.

“Can I pick you up around 3?”

“I think we should meet there.” You said, thinking of how suffocating and awkward it’d be being inside a car with him after all these years. “There’s a nice place I usually go with my dau-,” you coughed, watching his brows frown. “With my best friend. I’ll text you the address and we’ll meet there.”

Then, all of a sudden, Mason pulled you into a hug. His warmth against your body melted your heart, and you could feel how his breath deepened as his arms tightened around your figure. “I’ll meet you there, so I can decently apologise for being a complete idiot to someone incredible like you.”

His words were all you needed to know for sure that this wouldn’t be easy.

Was he being genuine, or was he just trying to get into your pants like he did back then? Either way, things were immensely different now, for this wasn’t just about you and Mason anymore.

This was about her - Lily. It was about her future, her happiness, how his presence in her life would have a tremendous impact on how she’d develop and what kind of adult she’d be. Nothing would ever be the same, and there was nowhere to run.

This was going to be tough.

————

BONUS - SOCIAL MEDIA

next chapter

[naepiyo]

trackmaker

東京・SOUND MUSEUM VISION

[snaileer]

Free advertising Part 3

Parts 1 & 2

If one has spent a decent amount of time in an engineering lab, perhaps even been raised above (and in) such a lab, it would come as no surprise that the construction of potentially hazardous items can sometimes be accidental.

Danny’s teachers and classmates evidently do not share this sentiment when he attempts to leave their group to disarm the pipe-bomb in front of them during their field trip to the Gotham railroad museum.

Danny doesn’t get it.

“Once you accidentally make one, you figure out pretty fast how to unmake one,” Danny shrugs in reason, it’s not like it’s hard. Well, it’ll probably be a bit different because it’s not from spare pieces of a microwave but still!

“Microwaves don’t have spare pieces, Danny,” One of the chaperones says. Oh, she must have heard Danny’s mumble.

“Sure they do! Everything has spare pieces if you do it right!” Danny smiles, “Here, watch this!” Danny lunges for the bomb, dodging a reaching arm with practiced expertise.

Once he has his hands on it, he’s pulling his Fenton family goggles from his pocket and the mini toolkit his parents got -made- him for his 12th birthday. Complete with a laser cutter!

Danny uses the magnification of the goggles to get a closer look at the design, holding it up to his face. The timer seems to be a separate connection… hmm.

Danny turns his ear to it, shaking vigorously, but he pauses as shouts sound from behind him sitting criss-cross on the floor.

Except…when he turns around, nothing’s different except the group looking startled and pressing themselves farther against the wall.

“Nightingale!” Damian hisses from the herd, “What are you doing!?!”

Danny tilts his head in confusion, vision tinted slightly green through his goggles, “I’m..deconstructing it??” Danny looks down as he unscrews a few pieces, listening for the disconnection of the timer, “Thought that was obvious,” He grumbles.

Danny pulls his goggles to his forehead to get a better gauge of the wire colors before pulling two of them out. The timer display turns off.

The group seems to sag in relief as the red numbers go dead.

Danny barely notices, looking intently at the object as he turns it in his hands.

Hmmmm.

He flips his goggles back down and reaches blindly for his toolkit. Danny continues unscrewing, grabbing a different screwdriver and his mini weld set, before setting two metal grids to the side and holding it back up.

“See! Spare parts!” He says with a smile.

The green goggle tint prevents him from seeing his chaperone’s face drain of color.

It does not prevent him seeing Batman crash through the window three seconds later.

Tags for those who asked:

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[artemismoorea03]

DP x DC Prompt: Delayed Reactions

Danny's powers didn't activate all at once after going into the Ghost Portal, in fact they hadn't even fully realized what happened for months. They assumed the change in appearance was just their eyes adjusting to the flashing because of how quickly it appeared then vanished again. But, as more things started happening to Danny and started changing, Danny couldn't help but wonder if maybe his accident had resulted in more than a permanent star that ran up his left arm to his heart.

He didn't tell Sam or Tucker though, after all Meta-Humans were so rare that there was no way they would believe him! Plus, if he told them then it would only be a matter of time before more people knew. So, he kept it to himself.

Which worked until Summer Break when Danny went to Gotham with his parents and Jazz for a Ghost Hunting Exp. Danny had no interest in 'Ghost Hunting' (though he had begun to do more of it after he realized that he could kind of sense and see the ghosts), so instead of listening to the expo he was going around learning more and more about the city. Gotham had some amazing other exhibits, an observatory, museums with huge space displays, and more interesting things than Ghosts.

Plus, it had the highest population of heroes!

Danny didn't expect that his second day in Gotham would end up so differently from the first one. It all started with a little girl about nine who had been crossing the street when chaos broke loose. An explosion on the next block rocked the entire city, causing Danny's skin to crawl, but what mad him sick was the fact that the explosion had thrown a car directly towards the little girl and a crowd of people.

Everybody else scattered, including the woman the girl had been walking with who seemed to forget her in an instant as they got out of the way of the car. But the little girl didn't move, just started terrified at the approaching car.

"Get out of the way!" People shouted to the girl, but unlike the rest of them Danny's instincts were screaming one thing.

Protect.

Danny ran forward as quickly as his legs could manage as he tried to beat gravity itself. Danny made it to the girl without a second to spare, wrapping her into a hug.

"Please work, please work, please work!" Danny thought, struggling to get his powers to work as he felt himself turn intangible with the girl turning intangible with him.

No sooner did his powers kick in did the car slam into the ground where they were standing before it bounced and rolled down the street, leaving a dent around the two of them but leaving both Danny and the girl untouched.

Danny let his power drop, as the girl looked at him for a second before she burst into tears and hugged him. Danny's vision swam as he hugged her back, fixing her hair.

"I gotcha, you're okay..." Danny told her, then let her go as the woman who had left her in the street called her.

The girl sniffled, then ran to the woman as Danny tried to stand. He could hear people talking, cheering and some were even applauding but it all sounded really far away. He could also hear another car approaching, but as his vision faded and his body felt as though it was filled with led nothing felt important anymore.

---

The Bats had tried to race to get to the civilians before the car hit them and had failed. Thankfully, the majority of people had managed to get out of the way to a safe distance but there was a little girl still in the road. None of them wanted to see the girl die, but they knew realistically they couldn't make it to her.

But somebody did.

No sooner did the stranger save the girl and let her go did they collapse into the middle of the street.

Suddenly it was no longer 'save civilians from a car that got partially blown up in Penguins newest scheme' but 'get the unknown Meta out of the street before his face was exposed to every media outlet throughout the city'.

[normatural]

Echoes of Souls | A.T

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x f!reader

Summary: In the old, abandoned castle, she found a love letter addressed to her, written by someone who died a century ago.

Word Count: 2.328

A/N: It's been a while since I wrote something and my writing is a bit rusty so please bear with me :) Feedback is always welcome. I love to know your opinions and questions. English isn't my first language so excuse any mistakes but feel free to point them out to help me improve.

Aemond's masterlist

Chapter Two: Back to the Fire

As the first light of dawn filtered through the broken windows, you roused yourself from sleep. The dream's vivid fragments lingered in your mind, each scene suffused with an inexplicable emotion. A longing that you couldn’t quite understand. Determined to uncover more of these echoes of the past, you decided to explore the mansion's grounds. The repairs could wait another day.

The garden, though now overgrown and wild, still held a certain beauty of its past. Weeds mingled with the remnants of perennials that had once been meticulously tended. Ancient statues stood silhouetted against the rising sun, their stone faces weather-beaten but still graceful. You wandered through the garden, trying to trace the paths from your dream.

Every step seemed to draw you closer to something just out of reach, a secret waiting to be unveiled. You reached a wrought iron gate, barely hanging on its hinges, and carefully pushed it open. Beyond lay what seemed to be the castle's graveyard, shrouded in a somber stillness. Moss-covered statues stood as silent chronicles of lives long past. Like ghosts in a forgotten house. 

Your heart began to pound as your eyes scanned the names at the bottom of the figures. Graves. You moved through the rows, pausing occasionally to read a name or a date. Most of them passed really young. Just as expected when a war is looming. The royal name appearing over and over again. And then you saw it—an elaborately carved white stone, still pristine despite the years. The name etched into the stone made your breath catch in your throat: Aemond Targaryen.

You’ve studied in college that the royal family used to be burnt in pyres by their dragons so it was odd to see those statues in the field as some sort of graveyard. Perhaps it was a way to honor the royal family, just like a museum. A reminder of the past.

Overwhelmed with a mix of sorrow and wonder, you knelt before the grave. The inscription was simple but profound, speaking to a life of duty, passion, and an untimely end. You traced the letters with your fingers, feeling a sudden, overwhelming wave of emotion and recognition. The statue was almost a carbon copy of the man you had seen in your dream.

A rustling sound caught your attention. You looked up to see a black bird perched on Aemond’s shoulder, its dark eyes reflecting a startling intelligence as it seemed to stare deeply in your eyes. The bird regarded you for a moment, then took flight, its inky feathers stark against the morning sky. You watched as it flew to a massive tree, the only one still vibrant with life, its leaves a deep, blood-red hue. Unable to ignore the goosebumps in your skin.

Drawn by an invisible force, you rose and walked towards the tree. It seemed similar to the one you had seen earlier. Its red leaves stand proudly against the soft breeze. The tree's bark was rough against your hand as you gently touched it, feeling a strange energy pulsating beneath the surface. Like blood pumping in veins. Such an ancient piece that endured time way better than its surroundings. Suddenly, the world began to spin. Colors blended and swirled, and your vision blurred. You tried to hold onto the tree, but your strength waned, and you succumbed to the overwhelming dizziness, collapsing to the ground.

When you opened your eyes, the first thing you noticed was the sky, clear and blue above you. Pushing yourself up, disoriented, you looked around, touching your throbbing head. The once-overgrown garden was now meticulously manicured, the statues restored to their former glory. The world around you was vibrant and alive, brimming with the sounds of life. It was like being pulled back to that dream again.

Heart hammering, you realized you were no longer in the abandoned castle’s grounds. You were… in the past, in the Targaryen age. If that was even possible. Maybe you were going crazy but the castle loomed majestically behind you, its towers and walls gleaming in the sunlight. 

Voices and the sounds of bustling activity drew you towards the main courtyard. You blended in surprisingly well, your attire somehow fitting in with the period. As you moved through the crowd, your mind buzzed with the realization of where - and when - you were. The Targaryen age.

Everywhere you looked, there were signs of the looming strife. Soldiers in armor, courtiers whispering urgently to one another, and the dark, foreboding presence of the dragons, their cries echoing in the skies above. Something was about to happen and it didn’t leave a good feeling to your guts.

Your thoughts raced as you tried to comprehend your situation. You had somehow traveled back in time, to a world that had existed centuries ago. A world where Aemond was alive. Where dragons flew in the sky… When one of the greatest wars was unfolding.

You made your way back to the garden, the same spot where you had seen the man with white hair. It was exactly as you remembered it from your dream - vibrant, full of life, and breathtakingly beautiful. As you walked, your heart skipped a beat when you saw Aemond in the distance, speaking with a group of knights as they walked in the out the gates. He seemed just as you had seen in her dreams, every bit the imposing and mystery figure you had come to know… somehow.

As you watched from a distance, trying to hear anything that wasn’t your thrumming heartbeat, a voice broke through your racing thoughts.

"Lady Vaela!" Startled, you turned to see a maid hurrying towards you, her expression a mix of concern and urgency. "My lady, you are not yet ready! The ceremony will begin soon."

"What ceremony?" you asked, voice shaky. The maid seemed taken aback by your furrowed brows but recovered quickly.

Fear of being caught and hanged for wandering around the castle was the only thing keeping you from tripping on your feet as you followed the maid through the dark and imposing halls. She had recognized you, or better, who she assumed you were. And that may be something good. They’d hang someone known by staff.

"Your wedding, my lady. To Prince Aemond Targaryen. Come, we must make haste!"

The world around you seemed to spin again, but this time with a dizzying revelation. Her dream, her memories - it was all falling into place. They were your memory. You were Vaela… Or perhaps, you were in another dream. You followed the maid in a daze, questions swirling in your mind. How did you end up here? Why did they recognize you? 

The maid led you through the bustling corridors of the castle, and you took in the splendor of the surroundings - the rich tapestries, the gleaming armor, the hurried preparations of the household. It all felt surreal as if you were walking through someone else's life.

They arrived at your chamber - you supposed-, and the maid quickly set to work, helping you bathe and change into the elaborate wedding gown that awaited. It was a breathtaking creation of silks and lace, embroidered with the sigils of House Targaryen. As the maid adjusted your veil and added the final touches, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the polished metal. The reflection looking back at you was both familiar and strange, a mixture of your past self and the woman you had become. It was you and yet it wasn’t. 

"You look beautiful, my lady," the maid said with a warm smile. "Prince Aemond is a fortunate man."

The words brought a flush to your cheeks, and you took a deep breath to steady yourself. This was happening. Your heart raced with a mix of fear and excitement. When would you wake up?

As the preparations concluded, the maid guided you towards the grand hall where the ceremony was to take place. The hall was filled with guests, a sea of faces you did not recognize but who seemed to know you. High lords and ladies, knights, and nobles, all turned to watch as she made her entrance.

The hall itself was a marvel of Valyrian architecture, adorned with dragon motifs and glittering chandeliers. Some of them you had the luck of seeing in museums, others in your history books but most of them were never seen in your century. At the far end, standing tall and regal, was Aemond Targaryen. His white hair gleamed under the chandeliers, and his one good eye fixed on you with a burning intensity, making your stomach do black flips.

Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. Every step you took echoed through the hall together with your heartbeat or maybe that was just your nerves. Your mind racing with a multitude of emotions. This was the moment you had dreamt of since childhood - to wed in a palace-, yet it was more real and overwhelming than you could have imagined. You didn’t know that man and still, you haven’t tried to run away since you awoke there.

As you approached, Aemond stepped forward to take your hand. His grip was firm yet gentle, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. For a moment, time seemed to stop as their eyes met, the connection between them sparking and palpable. It was as if their souls were recognizing each other, despite the chasm of time that had separated them. Could he know that you weren’t his beloved Vaela? If so, he didn’t let it show.

The ceremony began, a blend of Valyrian rites and Targaryen traditions. The words of the officiant washed over you as you stood beside Aemond, your hand still clasped in his. Somehow it was the only thing keeping you from fainting right there. 

"Sȳndor bē naejot māzigon hen ñuha prūmia, ao issi ñuha ēngos, ñuha prūmia, se ñuha gevives. Nyke daorūbagon ao va īlva gīmigon, īlva vūjigon, se īlva ānogar. Iā vala mēre, ȳdrā ēdruty. Zaldrīzes buzdari iksos daor, sepār iksan sȳndroro gūrogon." Aemond purple’s eye was focused on yours, the words leaving his lips seemed to held a deeper power to it. "As we come together from my heart, you are my light, my heart, and my strength. I bind you to our love, our life, and our future. As one man and one woman, always together. A dragon does not bow, yet I am humbled by your love."

The vows were spoken in High Valyrian, their meaning both ancient and profound. 

"Sȳndor bē naejot māzigon hen ñuha prūmia, ao issi ñuha ēngos, ñuha gevives, se ñuha bantis. Nyke daorūbagon ao va īlva gīmigon, īlva prūmia, se īlva rhaenagon. Iā valar mēre, ēdruta va gevie. Zaldrīzes ōños iksā, se nyke ēdrur ao va gevivys.” Your mind only raced further with innumerous thoughts as the supposedly foreign words slipped so easily out of your lips. “As we come together from my heart, you are my light, my strength, and my night. I bind you to our love, our heart, and our dreams. As two souls, bound in strength. You are a dragon of shadows, and I honor you in the darkness."

 With each word, the bond between them seemed to grow stronger, as if the very fabric of time was weaving their destinies together. Again.

When the moment came to seal their union, Aemond leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a soft yet powerful kiss. Awakening something long torpid in your chest. The hall erupted in applause, but for you, the world had narrowed to just the two of you. Love and passion radiating from him, a promise of what was to come.

As the ceremony concluded, the people were led to the grand banquet hall where the celebrations would continue. The hall was filled with the sounds of laughter, music, and the clinking of goblets. You found yourself surrounded by well-wishers and congratulations, yet your focus remained on Aemond, who surprisingly stayed by your side like an anchor in the storm of emotions.

As the evening progressed, you took the chance to accept every goblet of wine that was offered to you in hopes it’d control your mind. You sat down on the chair, eyes quickly finding your.. husband as he spoke to whom you assumed was his brother, King Aegon. It was as if you had known each other for lifetimes.

When they finally found a moment alone amidst the revelry, Aemond took her hand and led her to a quiet alcove. "Vaela," he whispered, his voice filled with emotion. "I know this may feel overwhelming, but trust in our love. We are destined for each other, no matter the challenges we may face."

You looked into his eye as the crease between your brows deepened, seeing the sincerity and passion there. But there was something else there. Knowledge. He knew. "I’m back, Aemond," you replied, your voice surprisingly steady. "And I am ready to face whatever comes our way, as long as we are together."

He smiled a rare and genuine expression that made your heart soar. "Then let us embrace our destiny, my love. Together, we shall conquer all."

His words seemed to strike something on you. Unlock whatever your memory was keeping from you as pages of books and illustrations flashed in your mind. The name Targaryen is in all of them. Your heart sank as you looked at Aemond. You’ve read about his death. What if... That was the reason you were sent there? To avoid it.

As they stood there, hand in hand, the world around them seemed to fade away. They were no longer bound by the constraints of time, but rather united by a love that spanned centuries. At that moment, you knew that no matter what challenges or trials awaited you, your love was eternal, a flame that would never be extinguished. You had a purpose there. You’d save your lover’s life.

+

Taglist: @donut-seam @strangersunghoon @teasweeter @darktrashsoulbear @m00n5t0n3 @rosey1981 @kniselle @rebloggerist-extraordinaire

[iid-smile]

diorama , geto suguru

x fem!reader ! suggestive, morning after some activities in bed, geto is probably 20-ish?, can be read as a timeskip to flatline because i said so, extended kissies, lazily proofread

author's note: i've been thinking about this for a while, but i was like "it would be my first time doing something suggestive..." so i was hesitant but oh well!

i repeat, suggestive!!!!

it's sore.

whatever's not covered by the blankets, it's sore. your eyes slowly open from the minimum sunlight outside, a familiar smell of him filling your nose. the room was slightly stuffy, the barely open window doing little to clear out the air from last night, but you didn't mind. if anything, you liked it.

your muscles are reluctant to move, yet you force them to, lifting your head up from the pillow. your hair was still down and messy, disturbing your vision, but you blow the loose strands away. though the air is stuffy, it was cold, being the middle of winter. usually you'd get hot under sheets, but the lack of clothing would explain the chill.

you let your eyes travel over to the other side of the mattress, the sight of geto's back with light red marks scraped across greeting you. only for a second do you admire, before shuffling over so you're closer. "suguru?" you whisper.

he's always been a light sleeper. "mm?" geto hums back to you, an obvious rasp in his voice.

"you've got marks on your back." your index finger traces over one of the longer lines, feeling his warm skin. "gonna need to keep it covered."

with a small sigh, he turns over to lay on his back, his forearm covering his eyes. "i wonder where those came from... having the culprit look out for me like that..." he mumbles.

"i didn't mean to..."

"i know. i don't mind." his tone remains soft and low, and you take the time to really gaze at him; at his hair spread around on the mattress, at his side profile perfect enough to be in a museum. he sure is pretty.

you toy at the end of a bundle of hair, twisting it between your fingers. "your hair is long."

"you didn't know?"

"i did. it just looks longer like this..." you move your finger closer to his roots and lift your hand, watching as the silky strands slowly drop from your finger. "...when it's down... are you gonna let it grow?"

"mhm. no plans on cutting it anytime soon." his arm shifts, just enough for a few strands to fall from his forehead to join the rest of the group on the mattress.

silence, and for quite a while too. you really didn't have much to say afterwards. your stare doesn't seize, and you wait for him to talk first, because you could tell he's got something on his mind. "i know this might sound weird," he starts off. "but i've always wanted to do that with you, whatever happened last night."

"why wait so long after graduation then?"

"i didn't want to do something i'd regret."

"you'd regret doing it with me?"

"no... i'd regret rushing into it so young." finally, he removes his hand from his eyes, but his gaze remains fixed on the ceiling. "especially with you. i'd never want to rush anything with you." he pauses for a moment. "i barely understood my own feelings at the time. i loved you, yes, but... i wanted there to be more depth first. and, you know, some... stuff happened."

"so you love me now?"

"i've always loved you. don't be silly." a small smile appears on his lips.

you lightly chuckle, shuffling just that little bit closer to him. it's obvious that his eyes are tracing around your features, specifically around your lips for mysterious reasons, but it doesn't feel uncomfortable. you like his gaze. casually, your hand moves from his hair to his lips, your middle finger running over the bottom. "can i kiss you?" some urges can't be resisted.

for a minute, he remains still, but he does answer. "of course."

you really shouldn't hesitate, considering the amount of trust you put into him, but you just can't help it. geto's eyes are filled with tenderness and reassurance, carefully draping your thigh over his body, yet giving you enough space to pull away if you really wanted to. how can you hesitate if you're the one who asked for it?

you lean down to press your lips against his. the kiss is so gentle, almost hesitant in its movements. they're soft. faintly chapped from the lack of moisture, but they're still soft. his hand shifts once again, this time moving up to rest against your lower back, his long slender fingers gliding around your skin before planting flat onto the center.

a shiver leisurely thrums down your spine, and the sound of your racing heart fills your ears. his hand on your back keeps ahold of you, the other moving to the back of your knee, making sure that you don't pull away as he slightly tips his head to the side, allowing the kiss to deepen just a bit.

from the gesture, a small mumble simmers through your lips, and he takes that as an initiative to wrap his arms around you, turning the two of you over. his hands slide upwards, intertwining with yours and pressing them against the mattress. and right when his lips were going to connect to your neck...

he pulls away.

"you should rest up..." he whispers, sounding more like he was talking to himself than you. almost as if he was rushing or rather avoiding you, he gets out of bed. you can only watch as he gathers up littered clothes on the floor, dumping them off into a hamper. after the quick cleaning session, he digs through his closet, pulling out a random black hoodie and sweatpants.

was he planning on going somewhere?

as he feeds his arms through his hoodie, but gives you a glance before pulling it over his head. "how are you feeling?"

"a bit sore."

"need some painkillers?"

"no. 'm fine." you sit up, pulling the covers up to your chest and laying your hand flat on it. the room really was cold, and slight goosebumps formed on your skin, but you didn't notice. "you're going to leave?"

while tying up his hair into a low, messy bun, he sighs. "not for long. i'll come back. just getting some stuff for you, like painkillers."

"i already said i didn't need them..." you mumble to yourself. you can't even be mad though; geto's always been that kind of guy. always ignoring your words when you say you don't need something. it fills you with butterflies all the time. "how long will it take?"

before he opens the door, fingers grabbing the handle, he gives you a sweet smile, his eyes closed like how a cat's would. "don't worry. i'll be back as quick as i can, okay?" he walks over to the window and closes it, and then exits the room.

you knew you didn't need to ask him 'really?' or 'are you sure?', because geto always sticks to his promises.