#and how they are keeping it PRIVATE for a REASON

[lemurchick]

Today russian government banned "childfree propaganda" with the law fining non-complying citizens up to equivalent of 4k dollars and non-complying organizations up to 51k dollars.

This law prohibits any public (for now; soon it could be used even for DMs) statements where childless life seen as a better or even equal lifestyle to having children. It forbids saying that it's okay for women to have abortions. It bans any advices to not have children if women don't have enough space, money, health (!) or any other reasons (like going-on war hello?) except when you're talking about monkhood celibate.

This is in line with Putin's signed order "to save and protect traditional values" which already led to banning any mention of LGBT people and had people arrested and sentenced just for organising private gay events or heavily fined for posting a photo of you with your same-sex partner holding hands or screenshot of tv characters kissing. Two female police officers friends were fired because they left messsages under each other photos "showing simpathy" (not even flirting).

And now this. Of course it's not going to affect men who proudly say online how women with children are second sort or calling mothers protecting their children crazy "butI'mAMother"s (popular derogatory term), or advocate to cancel child support, or doing anything else that actually turning women away from considering motherhood. It's going to affect feminists first and foremost because it is us who relentlessly advocate how marrying men and having children in this society is a trap.

And they plan to ban feminism next (they were tryng to do this for years at this point) and also... eh... egoistical lifestyle propaganda whatever this means.

Crazy times but I think we will prevail. Soviet feminists refused to keep silent and were called dissidents and extradited. For now not one feminist channel, podcast, page or community I know is planning to close.

[dukeofankh]

Yeah, when I keep saying that part of toxic masculinity means that large swaths of men are not actually viewed as men within patriarchy, this is what I'm talking about. This guy saw a bunch of guys he saw as lacking masculine power, and attempted to use the threat of sexual violence against them to silence them.

Everyone's joking about how he's so bigoted that he's looped back around to being gay, but folks, sexual violence is mostly about power. Toxic, patriarchal masculinity is a constant hierarchical struggle for dominance. In his mind, a bunch of guys who didn't look like manly men and were expressing feminist views were so far from the masculine ideal that it would no longer be considered a homosexual act for him to rape them. Like, he felt comfortable sending that tweet publically, even as someone who would probably try and cave your skull in if you even insinuated that he was gay. Regardless of how his mind works privately, he didn't even think his public hetero reputation would take a hit for threatening to turn a bunch of progressive guys into sex slaves.

This is not a monolithic group that all respect each other and hate women. The boys from this tweet are not magically taken more seriously by misogynists because they aren't women. If you feel like the reason that Trump won is because there aren't enough feminist guys being loud and proud about it, please remember this tweet.

absolutely insane shit happening on twitter

[purinfelix]

Franco Colapinto, where his girlfriend gets jealous of his interviews, so she does everything to make him jealous in return.

a taste of his own medicine ⋆.ೃ࿔*･- franco colapinto

summary: you've had enough of your boyfriend's shameless flirting during interviews, and hatch a plan to get back at him for it w/c : 1.3k

a/n: AAAA this is such a cute idea anon - i wrote a good chunk of this a while ago but only just finished the last bit today, thank u for the req and i hope u enjoy !! <333

You wondered if your boyfriend could feel the stone-cold glare you were giving the back of his head from your spot in the VIP lounge - though if he could, he surely wasn't doing anything about it.

Initially, there hadn't been any problems with keeping your relationship secret - in fact, it had been your idea for a number of reasons. You just didn't consider yourself ready to be swarmed and scrutinised by the media or have the title of 'F1 wag' bestowed upon you. It didn't feel right, if anything it felt like a disservice to boil down your relationship with Franco to something so sensationalized. Keeping it private seemed the best decision, at least for the time being. But now, the longer you watched your boyfriend shamelessly flirt with anyone who crossed his path, the more you grew to regret this decision.

You weren't by any means a jealous person by nature, but something about the fact that no one but you had any problem with this situation - and only because they didn't know about your relationship - irritated you. If only you could figure out a way to make Franco feel the same way you were. Just at that moment, as if by fate, you spotted a young-looking boy in a race suit walking casually past the lounge. His carefree walk, curly brown hair and boyish smile - bingo.

"Hey there," you called out, hopping up from the chair you were sitting in and walking over to the boy.

"Oh, hello," he replied, seemingly taken aback by being addressed by you.

"Sorry, it's just that I'm a little new to all of this and," you look him up and down, "you look like you know what you're doing, do you think you could show me around?"

He laughs shyly, hand rubbing the back of his nape. "Well, I mean, alright then, I'm Ollie by the way."

"Lovely to meet you, Ollie." You offer a girly giggle which you try your best not to cringe at as you follow the boy, who begins to walk around the nearest garage.

He begins to explain things, the process of getting ready to drive, the roles of different team members and the physics of the car itself - all of which you could care less about, but you nod earnestly regardless. Along the way, you even offer any mechanic or engineer who seems your age a friendly smile, and even a wink if they're particularly good-looking.

It's just your luck too that all of this is happening just close enough to the media hubs where your boyfriend has been stuck all afternoon. You try your best not to look too often over at him, not wanting to give away the true intentions of this mini tour you're scored for yourself. He doesn't seem to share the same sentiment though, based off of how many times you've caught him stealing glances at you, his eye following watchfully as you laugh and tease your impromptu tour guide.

"And so every element of car design has the purpose of making it as fast as possible, either through aerodynamics or by making everything lightweight," he continues to explain excitedly, and even though you're starting to feel dizzy from all the nodding you give him a quick one.

"Oh, wow!" You say, and before you know it you've landed yourself in the perfect position - within both earshot and line of vision of your boyfriend who seems to be wrapping up one of his last interviews for the night. Now, for the cherry on top.

You watch as Franco finishes saying his goodbyes to the last of the media crew, his eyes now searching the paddock for you. Knowing that he's looking at you, you throw your head back in laughter at nothing in particular and bring a hand up to graze Ollie's upper arm. Though you have his back to him you know your boyfriend well enough that when you feel a hand on your own shoulder mere seconds later, you aren't too shocked.

"Oh, hello Franco," you hum, feigning innocence. "Ollie here was just showing me around and keeping me company, isn't he the sweetest?"

"Very sweet." He grins through gritted teeth, though his strengthening grip on your shoulder says otherwise.

"No problem, oh but hey I forgot to show you just one more th-"

"Thanks, kid, but my girlfriend and I have got to get going."

Trying not to make it too obvious on your face how pleased you were that your plan had worked, you thanked Ollie once more before you felt Franco's grip sliding down your arm and intertwining his fingers with yours. Desperately, he dragged you off and away from your tour guide - who had a slightly confused expression painted on his face as he watched the two of you disappear into the Williams garage. You were amazed by how quickly your boyfriend was walking as he pulled you into his driver's room, shutting the door behind you quickly.

"What was that?" he huffed immediately, not giving you a second to say anything. You only smiled in response, watching his normally calm expression morph into one of frustrated confusion.

"I told you, Ollie was showing me around, you were busy with your interviews anyways," you decide to keep up the act of innocence, though you can tell he's not buying it.

"Bullshit, what sort of showing around involves touching him."

"I didn't think you were watching, those reporters seemed to keep you pretty occupied," you say in a sing-songy tone, throwing yourself down on the couch in his room. You wait for him to respond - something equally sarcastic or quippy, but when you turn to look at him you see him staring at the wall in front of him, eyes furrowed in confusion. Slowly, the cogs in his mind seem to start working as his expression slowly changes into one of realisation.

"You were jealous," he breathes out, turning to you with eyes wide and brows raised.

"Oh pfft- I wouldn't say jealous, bored now that might be more accurate but-" You're interrupted by him taking a seat on the couch next to you, face now painted with a smug look.

"You didn't like that I was talking to so many reporters, did you?" His teasing tone is enough to make your heart race a little, though you try your best to keep calm.

"I'm pretty sure you were doing a little more than talking babe, you were flirting!"

He looks at you with a slightly offended expression, "flirting?" It's almost as if he's just realising what he was doing.

"Uhm, duh."

"Did it really look like that?" His brows curve up into a pleading expression, "I didn't mean to, I swear!" You let out a soft chuckle watching his apologetic expression.

"It's fine baby, just try to be a little less friendly next time - I think your PR team would appreciate it anyway." He nods, scooting a little closer so that he can lay his head on your shoulder. There's a beat of silence before he speaks again.

"You were jealous," he hums, almost as if he's talking to himself.

"Wh- so were you! Poor Ollie is probably terrified of you now!"

"Whatever, he's a big boy, he'll live," he sighs, reaching for your hand and intertwining it in his "Plus, don't act like you're any better using that kid to get back at me."

"Hey, I had to do something before you walked out of that media room with a second girlfriend," you crossed your arms in annoyance, refusing to even look at him.

"You're cute when you're jealous," he laughs, before turning to peck at your jawline. Before you can stop you're melting into his touch, bringing a hand up to brush his curly hair away from his face. It might be a weak apology to some, but to you - to be here with him, in the privacy of his driver's room, away from Ollie, the reporters, and the rest of the world - it's more than enough.

taglist: (reply/send me an ask if you'd like to be added!)

@spreadyourwings-my-smiling-angel @alelo23 @scill-a @multifan-idk

[shoezuki]

hi hello so for any people curious bout the dream beef i am talking about im gon chronicle it all here in a hopefully fully contextual way for both longterm weirdos and new people who dont know bout my parasocial beef w dream. ill try to keep my biases out of it somewhat but anyways,

this began with a podcast Tommyinnit and Jack Manifold have together in which they had philza as a guest. Episode 9 is currently behind a paywall on their patreon but they have a youtube channel where they post them publically as well. Not sure if they make all their episodes public eventually or not but i digress.

Twitter user _constel_ has posted 5 clips from the podcast in question that contain their discussion about dream. I have downloaded the videos but tumblr doesnt want me to put them in this post so i will try and sum up each clip as I go.

Clip 1: Phil starts talking about how once the dsmp was done people would joke about how their 'contracts' would be over and they would be allowed to talk about things behind the scenes. philza mentions the infamous philza tweet in response to dream.

for context, the main discussion is around this exchange from around february 2021, where dream 'jokingly' argues that he is responsible to tommy's high viewership on youtube:

Most of it the tweets are deleted by both parties but it was very much a whole thing. Phil has apparently joked about revealing the context of his reply 'when he retires' (mentioned clip 1).

Jack Manifold had apparently been in a call with tommyinnit when the exchange was happening and recalls tommy being extremely stressed. The context philza gives is that he was texted by tommy to look at the thread while he was going on a walk and tommy was panicking over if dream was genuine (mentioned clip 2). Philza says "I'll find out if he's fucking joking' and that he essentially vibe checked dream. Tommy also states that after the twitter exchange he legitimately wrote in his diary to never be rude to dream: "never be horrible to dream. It's not worth it. It makes me too sad". Additionally jack manifold establishes that he hated dream from the beginning, they hate each other, and that, although he acknowledges dream aided him through the dream smp, he hates how dream 'takes ownership of other people and their accomplishments because he was a guiding hand' (mentioned clip 3).

Jack manifold mentions that tommy was 16 during this exchange and philza additionally says it was out of line (Clip 4). Philza more openly talks about there being 'reds flag after red flags' with dream in clip 5.

OKAY thats honestly a vague description and theres a LOT more so watch the clips if u want. Heres another tweet 'summarizing' it as well. But anyways this of course had people talking about dream again, some people (accidentally?) acting like this is about dream smp lore, and a lot of people concerned about how tommy was afraid to upset dream and would blame himself when dream picked fights with him.

Dream's response on dreamwastaken was to tweet about how he appreciated everyone who was on the server dispite differences, as well as a zip file to download the dsmp server/world file.

Worth noting there is a limitation on how many people can download the file within 24 hours so now people are only getting an error message when trying to access it which is fucking funny. On his private he also tweeted "love and appreciate you guys <3 very happy to be uploading again :) hope to keep it rolling" (Im not cropping out the reply its funny)

Thats all hes said so far, I havent seen tommy or jack manifold talking about it either. technically it isnt outright in response to their podcast but obviously everyone is taking it as such.

final stuff/my thoughts: dream has obviously had a tendency to kinda 'take credit' for 'making' the streamers who were on the dsmp and its notable that in his tweet he still acts like his server was the reason for people's fame and relationships. Saying 'a group of creators most of which would never have collaborated under any other circumstance got together and made something really cool' is just his thinly veiled way of still taking credit for tommy's fame and the relationships he and others have made and its moronic. Not to mention dsmp was very much NOT the server that got these specific people together, i mean techno and phil met through minecraft mondays, tommy and jack manifold met both of them through smp earth i believe. Even if the dsmp wasnt a thing they probably would have collaborated with other members through mcc eventually. the idea that the dsmp was what brought them together and a bunch of minecraft clowns would 'never have collaborated under any other circumstance' is stupid.

anyways sorry this is long as shit. im going to pray dream doesnt let this go for at least 3 to 5 business days as per usual

[hereforthehitsbaby]

prompt: hugh is your sugar daddy and he just bought you a new dress to wear at a movie premiere after party, but he cant resist wanting to take it off of you (also ur writings are fantastic 🩷)

Don’t I Look So Pretty? | Sugar Daddy!Hugh Jackman x F!Reader

Warnings: Sugar Daddy, Age Gap (Reader is in their late 20’s – Hugh is 56) Secretive Relationship, Heavy Make Out, Hugh is Touchy Feely, Mentions of Smut, Mentions of Divorce, Choking, Biting, Thigh Riding, Slight Pain Kink,

Rating: M – No Minors

Word Count: 4.1k

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for being my first ever High request! I was on the fence about doing RPF but you know what? I cannot pass up Sugar Daddy Hugh like that! Also I 100% spaced on the fact that you said after party and just wrote the premiere. I hope that was okay!

To be tagged in any future work of mine, please fill this out.

How did you get so lucky? That was the age-old question in your mind. How did you go from working a 9-5 office job directly after getting your Masters, to now being a sugar baby? It still surprised you, knowing this was your life. A small studio apartment turned into a lavish penthouse. Your car that barely turned on anymore got upgraded to a brand-new Aston Martin; You’ve never driven it though – why would you if you have a private driver now? How you went from living and working independently to being a princess in less than a few months boggled your mind, but you wouldn’t trade it in for the world. You were happy, for the first time in a long time.

Meeting Hugh Jackman was luck of the draw. You never realized how close your old job was to his home in the city, nor to his favorite coffee shop downtown. That was your solace after long days and dreaded mornings; Extra strong coffee and a bagel was your go-to. Seeing him each time meant that your day was going to be okay, his tender smile and short but sweet conversations got you through your week. It first started off as your favorites being already paid for, not having to waste your own dime anymore. Then it was your parking lot fees being comped, gas being prepaid, food constantly being delivered – all the way up to your rent being paid in full for four months. That is when things took a turn, Hugh didn’t just chat you up to keep your company in the mornings, this time around he was setting terms. Falling into the roll of his sugar baby came so naturally, it was hard to know anything else. You felt bliss, complete happiness knowing you didn’t have to go back to your boring office job. You didn’t have to appease people who truly wanted to use you as a stepping stool for their own success, you could be free from the bullshit of it all. You never looked back, and you never would. Everything you needed was in front of you, and you wanted to keep it that way.

A year of being Hugh’s sugar baby was everything you wanted, and everything he needed. Though this was the first time he had ever asked you to come to a movie premiere with him. It was hush-hush, especially after the divorce he went through. Hugh didn’t take you on as his sugar baby for sexual reasons, but more for companionship. You both were lonely, seeking a connection and why not do it with someone who made you two feel comfortable. As time went on though, those fleeting touches and longing stares burned right through you. Ryan always said it was a match made; He could see through the charade. So here you sit in your closet, at your vanity getting your makeup done. Staring into the mirror while your personal glam team dolls you up, you reminisced about how things have been for the last year, how much happier you are, how deeply you fell in love with Hugh. Not that you’d ever admit it to him, what you had now was good. You didn’t want to ruin that.

“Alright gorgeous, you are set.” Your makeup artist smiled as your hair stylist finished up with the hairspray. Looking up into the mirror, you were taken aback by the image in front of you. You knew you were pretty, beautiful even but right now? You look ethereal. There was a glow on your face not even the makeup could cover up, the way your eyes shined like you were blissfully happy with life. You looked like a painting, nothing seemed real but a perfect portrait of a girl in love. Tears welled in the corner of your eyes as you took yourself in, gasping lowly as your makeup artist set his chin on your shoulder, smiling with you. “Those heart eyes are all you, babe. He’s going to drop to his knees when he sees you.” You couldn’t help but feel the heat creeping up your neck to fan over your cheeks, your body shivering at his words. “I hope, I really hope.” You smiled small into the mirror, heart hammering as you thought of Hugh.

Before you could even begin to silently ponder the reaction he would have to you, a line of giggles fluttered in from the open closet door, humming ensuing as the blonde bun came back in sight. “Special delivery for a special girl,” your hair stylist laughed as she held the box in her hands. You cocked a brow as you spun around in your chair, flicking a silent what in her direction before looking at her hands. An ivory box with a gentle purple ribbon tied in a bow sat in her palms, causing your heart to swell. Biting your glossed lip, you took the box slowly from her hands, seeing a little envelope with your name written out tucked beneath. As you placed the box on your lap, you reached out to run your fingers across the ink, feeling how your fingers shook with anticipation. Gently you grasped the corner of the envelope, opening the back with a quick flick of your finger before pulling the card out.

I couldn’t stop thinking about you when I saw this. I knew I needed to see you in it. Can’t wait to see my pretty girl tonight. Having you by my side is going to feel so right.

Yours, Hugh xx

If you had any doubts before, you knew now that no matter what, Hugh was going to be obsessed with you. It never crossed your mind that he was going to buy you a dress for tonight, much less get it wrapped and ready to go. Especially on such short notice, it was the little actions he did that made you love him even more. Holding the sweet note to your chest, you swooned softly as you let your free hand work the box open, seeing the pearlescent tissue paper covering your dress. Your hair stylist didn’t waste a moment to help you out, lifting the paper back so you could see what Hugh had picked. A deep sapphire blue dress, with little beads twisting to mimic vines across the bodice of the dress, all the way down well passed the hips. The sweetheart neckline perfectly complimented the sheer long sleeves that came down to your wrist.

As your makeup artist and hair stylist grabbed the dress out for you, holding it up, you noticed the deep slit up to the middle of your thigh, causing your breathing to become labored. It was stunning, truly a beauty you have never seen before. Hugh has bought you so many lavish pieces of jewelry, purses, dresses, but nothing ever so you. This didn’t feel like something perfectly curated to fit what you wanted, but something that you would’ve made yourself. Something you would’ve dreamed of wearing. The small notion that he saw this and thought of you made you want to cry – it was too sweet for you to begin. Quickly your makeup artist came over to fan your face, making sure no tears fell over his hard work. That simple action had you laughing away the emotion welling up within you, making it hard to overthink.

A couple face fanning and strategically helping you into the dress so your hair nor makeup go ruined, finally you were in your dress. It felt right against you, like truly it belonged to you, was curated for you, was meant to be for you only. Now as you stand in front of the full length mirror staring at yourself, you felt like you. The way the color complimented not just your figure, but your skin color was the best. You felt like a goddess, you felt like an angel on Earth. You felt powerful, enough to take down an entire empire. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you took a deep breath as you smiled, ready to show Hugh what he had really bought for you. Your glamour team rubbed your arm and back as you began to walk out of the closet, giving you that extra boost you may need.

Thankfully living with Hugh made it so much easier to surprise him, not having to walk down a grand staircase or even stand outside of the door. Simply you could walk out of the closet, into your bedroom, and right into the living room where he was standing. His back was facing you as his front faced the fireplace, a hand pressed against the mantle as his other nursed a glass of water. In this moment you didn’t have to say anything or move an inch. Hugh could feel that you were behind him, he could smell your perfume and instantly felt his body run hot. He longed for you, each and every day. Though you two weren’t intimate, it didn’t stop the deep connection you developed with each other. Having that emotional connection was perfect, even if a physical one didn’t happen. Being a sugar daddy was new to him too; Ryan told him not to fall in love but, with you he couldn’t help it.

Slowly Hugh turned around from his position, his eyes unfocused behind his glasses. From his fuzzy vision he could make out the color of your dress, and knew he wasn’t going to be able to handle this. As his vision came back into focus, Hugh sucked a breath in, eyes dilating at what he was seeing. Starting at your face, he let his eyes wander over your features, taking in your beauty from a few steps away. He was wondering how the hell he got so lucky, how he had the fortune of existing at the same time as you, you were everything to him. Slowly his eyes careened down to your neck, ghosting over your chest and down your front. Each flick of his gaze caused your body to grow warm, the slick between your thighs growing more and more. Once his eyes fell upon the generous slit in your dress, once emerald eyes turned obsidian. His facial features never moved, they stayed in their frozen state as his eyes flicked back to you, his mouth agape.

“Woah,” Hugh breathed out, his heart pounding in his chest. You couldn’t stop yourself from giggling, biting your lip as you slowly made your way to him. The strawberry vanilla lotion you had used wafted through his nostrils, mixed with your perfume made him feral. It was then you noticed how his tie matched the color of your dress, causing you to feel warm and fuzzy. The little details like that made it special for you, made this relationship feel not monetary – but real. “That bad, huh?” You snorted out, running your fingers down the collar of his blazer as your eyes remained on his. You could see there was something more brewing beneath his gaze, but he wasn’t showing – he was shutting it out for his own sake. Hugh laid his hands on your lips as he looked deep into your eyes, smiling like a man obsessed. “You look perfect. I knew this dress was made for you.”

Hearing him say that made your smile turn wide, leaning forth to give him a small kiss on the cheek as you let your breath waft over his ear. “Thank you for this, Hugh. That was too kind. You’re too sweet.” They were the best set of words you could string together; Under his stare this time around, you couldn’t think coherently. The energy between the two of you had shifted – once full of pink and purple lights now swam in dark reds and emerald. It was thick, not suffocating but held you both in. You felt your body pushing against his without even thinking about it, Hugh could feel it too. Bringing his hand up to caress your jaw, his eyes fell to your lips, enraptured by the color chosen to compliment the dress. “Anything for my baby. You ready?” He smiled, his eyes never leaving your mouth. Nodding against his hand, you moved your head slightly to the side as you kissed his palm, holding your other hand against his chest. “As I’ll ever be.”

That was all Hugh needed to hear to grab your hand, bringing the back up to his lips as he let his kiss linger. Taking your hand into his, you both made your way out to the town car with his driver, making your way to the premiere.

-----

Everything that you could’ve possibly thought a red carpet for a premiere could be, you got to experience. It was a blur of lights and yelling but it was magical. Seeing how the cast latched onto Hugh and his excellence made your heart grow fond. Seeing how many of his friends came out to support him warmed your insides. Tonight was about him and his amazing performance, to be tagging along with him to experience this was a dream come true. Though you didn’t want the full red-carpet experience; Seeing the plethora of lights and cameras shuttering made you feel lightheaded. Instead, you made your way over his Hugh’s assistant, falling right behind him in step as he made his way around to interviews with Hugh. This was your choice at the end of the day, Hugh was okay with what made you feel safe, but a part of him wishes he could’ve had you on the carpet with him, showing off his girl.

Everything flew by in the snap of your fingers, interviews and pictures were completely done with now as you two made it into the packed theater. The complimentary concessions stand was buzzing to life with all the celebrities wanting a snack, the chatter gradually got quieter as people started to make their way to their seats. You could feel your nerves on edge as you looked around. Hugh leaned closer to you as he laced his arm your waist, holding you to him as he ran his thumb over the dress. Turning your face up to look at him, you could see that his brows were pulled together. He looked upset, worried even as his eyes panned around the room. It was something you have never see Hugh do before, and you wondered what was the matter. “You okay, Hugh?” You asked as you held him close, placing your lips near his shoulder

Your words seemed to have broken him out of his internal thoughts, causing him to come back into reality. “Hm? Oh yeah, I’m great!” He chimed, leaning down to lay a kiss on your temple. It felt staged, artificial. Was he nervous about all the people? About bringing you along? Was he not wanting to see someone? Too many questions placated your mind as you tried to read Hugh’s expression. You could see a small glimmer of pain in his eyes as he searched the room, his breathing become harsh. Rubbing your hand along his lower back, you placed your hip against his, leaning as close as you possibly could so only he could hear you. “You sure? You look distracted.” You knew he was, and you were silently hoping he would tell you why, but alas he looked down at you with a blank stare, trying to mask how he was feeling. “I’m okay, my darling.”

Nodding up at Hugh, you gave him a small smile as you looked back at the crowd. It was then that you heard a small gasp of success from Hugh’s lips, not giving you time to ask what was going on. Hugh was a man on a mission, and wasn’t going to stop until he got what he wanted. His hand wrapped to yours tightly, tugging you through the theater. As you pushed your way through the line Hugh had made for you, you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh at his eagerness. Hugh wasn’t upset but he was excited for something, of which you could not tell. But the way he looked back at you made your skin alight in adoration, his eyes sparkling with something more than like. You felt your body run hot as he stared at you, pulling you closer. Rounding the corner near the theater entrances, Hugh noted the light blue door at the end of the hall, humming out as he started to sprint with you.

Gathering the skirt of your dress in your free hand, you made good pace with Hugh as he led you to the door. Pushing it open with ease, you were met with the brightly lit interior of the bathroom, causing you to squint slightly. The bright light threw you off your balance as Hugh fully pulled you into the bathroom, maneuvering your body while you tried to adjust to the light. As your eyes finally focused, you felt your back being pressed up against the bathroom door, locking it with a harsh click. Hugh had both of your wrists clasped into his hands, holding them strictly above your head. Your eyes went wide at the action, staring into his blackened ones, your breathing labored in comparison to his easy one. “Hugh! What-“ You yelped out, but were cut short by Hugh shaking his head. His salt and peppered beard ran over your cheek as he tucked his head down, his breath sliding across your neck. “Sshh, don’t talk. Don’t talk.”

You obeyed his command as you whimpered, letting your eyes fall closed naturally at the feeling of him pressed against you. Hugh pulled his head back from your neck as he stared down at you, bringing his left hand down to grab at your chin, pointing your face up towards him. You could see the feral nature wanting to slip out and play with you, wanting to add physical contact to your relationship. You could see how Hugh was fighting it back with each breath, the small line teetering the deeper you gazed. You didn’t want just an emotional connection anymore, you wanted to make good on your job of sugar baby, giving Hugh exactly what he needs. He could see that in your eyes as well, the conflict of whether it would be a good idea. Tonight was a night of firsts, why not add that to the menu? A slight whimper left Hugh’s mouth as you pressed your breasts to him, leaning forth to nip at his bottom lip. “Earlier you asked me if I was okay. I lied, I’m not okay.” He sounded as if he was in pain, causing a wave of arousal to slip through your lower lips.

You felt your mind going hazy at the lack of space you two had, adding to the tension you wanted to slice with a knife. “W-What’s up?” It came out more as a moan than a sincere question, and you felt Hugh’s reserve slipping away. A chuckle of arousal slipped from his parted lips as he slid his left hand from your chin, to your neck. The action itself made your body sing, your eyes rolling back as he pushed. He was holding you hard enough so you couldn’t move, but not hard enough to where you couldn’t breathe. Instead, his thumb and first finger found your pulse point, pushing down to restrict the blood flow to your head, making your sight go fuzzy. “Fuck it,” Hugh let out with a growl. There was not enough time to respond before he pressed his mouth to yours, invading your senses.

Time stopped in that moment, slowing down enough to fully take in this moment. The first kiss of your relationship with Hugh, something you two have been wanting so bad over the last year. The floodgates had broken in this moment, letting you two embark on this voyage of discovery. His lips slotting against yours like he was made for you, how your mouth formed perfectly to his. The simple flicks of your tongue against his ignited the fire from within, causing you to burn to ash and be born anew. You struggled against Hugh’s grasp, wanting nothing more than to hold him close to you, feel every ridge of his body under your palms, to feel his burning passion. As if he had read your mind, Hugh had let your hands go, deepening the kiss. A sultry moan slipped past your parted lips as he licked into your mouth, letting him swallow it down.

Your hands slid down as he released his grasp, finding purchase on his hips. Letting your left-hand maneuver upwards, you tangled your fingers into Hugh hair at the base of his neck, giving the roots a soft tug. A growl escapes his lips and pours into your mouth; His right hand working its way under the slit of your dress to hold your plush thigh. The tantalizing touch of his calloused fingers against your baren skin made you want to scream in pleasure, to let this man ravish you all across the world. Hugh pulled back, panting like an animal as he gripped at your neck tighter, his touch shaking. “I can’t stop thinking about stripping you out of this dress.” Hugh sounded like he was in pain, a primal sound you have never heard him make. He sounded like a man possessed, the only cure was to make you scream his name.

A moan slipped out of his mouth as his hand slipped between your legs, feeling how sopping your cunt was at making out with him. Feeling his fingers slide against your panties made your knees buckle. Hugh stuck his knee between your thighs to hold you up, burying his face into your neck. “God, I fucking need you baby. I can’t do this any longer.” Hearing his desperate he was for you made you feel powerful, your hand gripping his hair tighter as he ravishes your neck. Hugh’s lips latched on roughly to the skin of your throat, suckling against the sweet scent of you. His knee on the other hand, slid back and forth against you, letting your erect clit nudge the soft fabric. Everything was too much, every feeling was too much, yet you didn’t want any of it to stop.

Grinding yourself down against his thigh, Hugh took that as an opportunity to bite into your neck, not hard enough to break skin but enough to mark what’s his. That was enough to send you over the edge, digging your nails into the back of his neck as you tossed your head back against the door. Against your core thigh you could feel Hugh growing harder, silently begging to make him cum. The mere size of him shocked you, knowing he would give you a good stretch if you tried. Just the thought was enough to put you on edge, his words aiding in your arousal. “If I’m not inside of you in the next two seconds, I might pass out.” You couldn’t take it anymore, you were sweating like a bitch in heat. You needed Hugh, and needed him now. You needed to feel him inside of you, to mark you, show everyone that you are his. “Would you-“ You began, not able to finish as Hugh pulls his face back from your neck.

“Yes.” How quickly he responded made you laugh, which in turn caused Hugh to roughly press his knee against your clothed clit, sending a wave of arousal through your body. Never tearing your eyes away from his, you licked your glossed lips sensually, putting on your best innocent eyes you could muster as you spoke. “You didn’t let me-“ Hugh had heard enough to know what you meant, because he needed the exact same from you. Hugh brought his face up inches from yours, pecking your lips slightly as he groaned out, your hand gripping his erect cock through his slacks. “Would you like to go home and let me worship you? Yes, I would baby.”

-----

Taglist: @anamiad00msday @coowayeoo @craziersarah98 @tezooks @pedroscurls @logansbaby

[babybratzmaraj]

When we getting yo spin on Aaron Pierre frenn 👀👀👀

the time has come. YOU SHALL BE BLESSED

Any Time, Any Place

Aaron Pierre as Terry Richmond

You as Yourself

Summary: You just had to fuck around and find out on this one particular night, the same night you and Terry go out!

Warnings: Possessiveness up the ass, breeding kink if you squint, rough sex, size kink, established relationship, im missing some but my coochie is rawring.

A/N: Now listen, ik you asked this like 2-3 months ago, but i told you it was coming! megan! um i thank ms big bertha for helping me finish this, i owe her one😏

This man, this man is something else. You and Terry went to his former military friend’s homecoming party! The vibes were great and everyone was nice to you! even got a ‘I see you nephew’ from one of the older ones.

But something about his glare, his hands feeling on you in public and more sultry in private, his kisses on your cheek leaving you flustered, too flustered to even finish the conversation with some of his friends. But you managed, tonight was a good night! The vibes were good, the music was amazing, even got new shit to add to your playlist! Your hair was dyed, fried, and laid to the side, the curls bouncing with every move you took, and the wind having the right amount of umph to blow it correctly, felt like a Disney princess. Too much of a princess, it wasn’t long till you two were pulled up behind a family dollar with your legs in the air, his eyes looking like what boiling water would feel like.

The whole night he was giving you glares, was to warn you, the hands that traveled your body, were to warn them, the private kisses were to remind you, but you didn’t pick up on nothing, poor you, you didn’t know! You were just enjoying people being friendly.

“I’m sorry!” you managed to cry aloud, his hands at the perfect spot to hold you in place, the faint but still strong scent of Gin tainted his lip, his strokes matching the mighty smell.

“I bet you are ma, but I can’t have you being friendly to these niggas.” he said ever so sweetly, slowing his strokes to match his tone, the feeling of feeling him twitch inside you drove you mad, the kisses he gave you trailing onto your neck once you couldn’t keep contact.

“I wasn’t trying to be niceee,” you tried to plead your case with tears of pleasure stinging your eyes, threatening to fall but it’ll mix well with the sweat that ruined your hair, it wasn't the only reason though. “Then what were you?”

You attempted to answer his question, jarring your lips to fix up a sentence, but you were too slow.

Terry slammed into you continually, each and every slam and thrust he gave you found a new place to dig out. His eyebrows furrowed as he lingered for your answer, knowing good and Christ juice you couldn’t answer. this nigga was evil.

He slammed into you once more resulting in you screaming, staying still in an attempt to not cum inside you, but you just looked too exquisite at this angle, the soft white light emitting from above shined across your face, your eyebrows scrunched, and your mouth permanently ajar.

“You can scream but can't answer? I said,” he began to repeat, slowly rocking his hips into you. “I don't know!”

“At least you're honest, that shit ain't cutting it.” He told you, maintaining his pace exactly where and how it was. His tone is mean yet delicate, his eyes still burning into your skin leaving different patches of hotness until your whole body warms up again.

“This my pussy right?” You nodded, “And Nobody will ever get it right?” you nodded your head obediently, “And nobody’s gonna take what's mine?” his voice nearly going primal, his pace quickening at the idea of someone attempting to take what was his.

“Nooooo,” You slurred on your words, drunk off his loving, high off this moment, rolling your eyes back to see your own little sky with stars with a biggg shooting star as your orgasm washed through you, your body jerking around violently as Terry held you steady, giving you two more pumps before sliding out, leaning back to watch you melt further into the backseat.

When you came to, you looked down to see Terry slowly stroking himself, “Knees.” He commanded, your knees buckled as you could hardly move but you obeyed, perking your ass up in the air, teasing him a little.

His hefty hand landed on your cheek a few times, each time leaving a pleasurable sting behind. You heard him shuffle behind you, lining himself up with your entrance, swiping your pussy with his dick making you clench over nothing.

“This your dick right? Show me.” Terry insisted, pushing only the tip driving you madly in love.

You slid down on him with ease, a guttural moan fleeing the two mouths as the feeling of being together again, feeling the chemistry oozing off of each other, it was something that couldn’t be replaced.

You grabbed a hold of the driver’s seat as you threw your ass back onto him, arching your back some more, the clapping intensified times ten.

“Fuckk,” Terry cursed lazily as he fucked you back, giving each cheek a little smacked turning that spot more redder, caressing the right one as the left one was left to die, that asshole!

You felt Terry's presence grow closer as his chest rested on your upper back. His left hand snaked around to keep your face to his as he attacked your lips, the taste of gin deepening your taste buds as you savor the flavor of him, moaning into his mouth.

His left hand released your face, kissing your back before pinning your face down onto the seat, his right hand placed in the small of your back, bending your back in a way you didn’t think it could bend.

He moaned deeply, his languidish strokes reminding you of one thing: This pussy was his and to never let another nigga think he has a chance. Truly, you learned from this experience but will try again when you recover from this in 7-10 business years.

You felt a familiar sensation forming in the pit of your stomach, Terry sensed this and evilly went deep, hitting all new spots as he damn near bottomed out in you. “I want you to cum on this dick and I want you to cum now.” but little did he know you were waiting on his approval.

You erupted into a screaming, shaking mess, the sounds of squelching and slapping of skin drowning out the music.

Terry gave you three sharp thrusts before nutting in you, painting your walls like you were a canvas, and it created a beautiful scene. Terry collapsed on top of you, breathing heavily into your ear feeling accomplished that he was able to go through with his ‘Punishment’ beating the last score of 3 to 7.

“I love you,” Terry said innocently, kissing you gently, whimpering as he slowly pulled out of you. “But Don’t do that shit again.”

You flopped onto the backseat as you stuck up a thumbs up, your arm flopping back down as you heard him laugh.

Fin ♥️

Youve got Mail!📥 @megamindsecretlair @theebaddesttt @thecapodomme @henneseyhoe @planetblaque @kindofaintrovert @blackerthings @harmshake

[forthegothicheroine]

I've made a post about great lesser-known noirs, but it occurs to me that some of you might not be familiar with the classics, and might want to know where to start. This is a ridiculously short list- I have a million more to talk about- but here are some of the big stars of the genre.

The Maltese Falcon: Sam Spade, a clever but callous private detective, gets wrapped up in intrigue relating to an artifact that is functionally cursed. If he's an unscrupulous character, just wait until you meet everyone else. The whole damn cast is electrifying, lending charm and cruelty in equal measure.

The Big Sleep: Philip Marlowe, a kinder and more poetic detective for Humphrey Bogart to play than Spade, is called upon to deal with a wealthy, dysfunctional family, and it keeps on getting weirder from there. Is the sharp-tongued Vivian Sternwood the femme fatale she seems, or is she just another person trying to find the right thing to do in desperate circumstances? And will she and Marlowe keep their hands off each other until the plot has had its last twist?

Double Indemnity: Rich housewife Phyllis Dietrichson and sleazy insurance agent Walter Neff are, by their own admission, rotten people. It's only natural that they should plot a murder together, and that they should turn on each other the very second things go wrong. Every single domestic murder movie since 1944 has ripped this off.

Kiss Me Deadly: This is nominally an adaptation of a Mike Hammer story. Screenwriter Bezzerides hated Mike Hammer. As depicted here, he is one of the worst people in the world. Depending on the cut of the film you see, he may inadvertently cause the nuclear apocalypse. (For once, the theatrical cut is darker.)

Sweet Smell of Success: Cruel, all-powerful columnist JJ Hunsecker wants his sister's boyfriend out of the way (for reasons that are, um, ambiguous.) To accomplish this, he enlists the biggest weasel in New York, Sidney Falco, and the two completely deserve each other as they spend the rest of the movie trading elaborate insults. Popular on tumblr for its dialogue and chemistry between the leads.

Sunset Boulevard: Broke screenwriter Joe Gillis thinks he can con a has-been into hiring him as a script doctor, and that's the last free decision he ever gets to make. From then on, his life is in the hands of Norma Desmond, silent film starlet turned crazed recluse, terrifying yet intensely pitiable. This is as much gothic horror as noir.

Ace in the Hole: The story of a man trapped in a cave is turning out to be a big hit in the newspaper, and if the publicity will make a reporter's career, then what's the harm in delaying rescue just for a little while? This is as vicious as noir gets, but damn it, you've just got to see what happens next. (Watch Jacob Geller's video Fear of the Depths after this.)

Sorry Wrong Number: Of all the films on this list, this is the one that really scared me. In the days of switchboards, a rich hypocondriac woman is connected to the wrong phone line and overhears a murder being planned. It doesn't take her long to figure out she's the intended victim, and each call she makes or recieves makes the situation darker. But how can she escape her fate if she can't- or won't leave her bed?

The Asphalt Jungle: The heist movie. Maybe the only heist movie ever made. Every line is quotable. Every member of the team is an unforgettable personality. When things go wrong, they go horribly wrong. One minute you're laughing, and the next minute you think you'll never laugh again.

Gun Crazy: Laurie and Bart, two practiced sharpshooters, are perhaps the most perfect match in all of noir- and that's a bad thing. When one half of the duo gets a criminal idea in their head, the other can't say no. When the opportunity to ditch her man like a sap comes up, the femme fatale throws it away to be doomed at his side. He fell in love with her when she first aimed a gun at him. Quentin Tarantino kissed star Peggy Cummins's feet at a showing of the film, and I hope she kicked him in the head.

Laura: Everyone was in love with Laura Hunt, and somebody killed her- or did they? Did they get the right person? Is the cop on the case in love with a dead woman? Was her columnist mentor just her gay best friend, or was there something darker beneath that facade? And what would Laura think of all this? A big inspiration on Twin Peaks.

In a Lonely Place: Bogart isn't at all heroic here, as a screenwriter with a drinking habit and a violent temper. He's obviously a bad idea to date, but just how bad an idea? He's not the type of guy who'd kill a woman, is he? Bogart and Gloria Holden give perhaps their best performances here, and they'll wound your soul.

Touch of Evil: A Mexican cop (played, unfortunately, by Charlton Heston) finds out a nasty secret about the big hero cop Hank Quinlan: he's framed the culprit in most of his cases. Not because he's crooked, but because his intuition tells him they're guilty. Director Orson Welles as Quinlan is frightening, grotesque, and a little bit tragic in what some consider the last classic noir.

The Killers: The first twenty minutes or so are an adaptation of a Hemingway story, where out of town hitmen gun down a man so depressed he won't even bother to run from them. The rest of the film is an investigation into how he got that way. It had something to do with a radiant gangster's girl, and something to do with a few botched crimes. Sometimes a man can die before the bullets even touch him.

The Third Man: Everybody is lying about the whereabouts of an American expatriate named Harry when his friend comes looking. Did they do something to him? Or, more frightening still, is he the one who's been doing things to other people? Orson Welles is a more charming monster than he was in Touch of Evil; the light and shadows on his face cast him as a vampire, while his fingers sticking up through the sewer grate look like something terrifying emerging from the earth.

[ccadaver]

When Jason was younger, he loved being physically close to people. When he hung out with friends, they'd sit close together to play a game of uno, he'd laugh so hard he'd hit the person closest to him, he'd toss an arm over his friend's shoulder.

Then he was taken from the streets and brought to a mansion. Huge open spaces left no need for closeness like the small rooms he was used to. Bruce would let him hang around him, draped over his shoulders as the grimacing man pulled up casefiles on the computer, but never reciprocated. Because Bruce is closed off, just had his son move out and was grieving what once was. Sometimes he'd be in a good mood and ruffle Jason's hair if he'd gotten a good grade in school or finally perfected a self-defense move.

He went to a private school, where rich kids gloated about their wealth and asked Jason what he'd gotten for Christmas. When Jason replied, glowing with pride, they laughed. He'd gotten a first edition Pride and Prejudice, but the kids said it was a girl book and that reading is for nerds. Needless to say, he didn't get along very well.

He'd lean up against Alfred when reading in the library, but the butler frequently had to leave to do his duties, leaving his side cold.

Eventually, he turned to the family dog, Ace, and to Bruce's dismay he got the dog to cuddle up next to him while he slept. Alfred still has a picture of the first time he'd seen it, and keeps it in his wallet. He never said anything, but once remarked about the dog hair on the sheets being impossible to remove.

Then Jason, optimistic and confident, went after Joker. We all know how that ended.

His mother betrayed him, but, loyal as a dog to its master, he shielded her from the blast. He died.

When he came back, the first thing he remembers is the pain of digging through silk and wood and dirt and grass. His fingers aching. In one big blur, there was pain. Men approaching him, beating him to get a reaction. Reflexes learned from the Bat kicked in and he blocked, but the stinging of the hits grew deeper than skin.

Then he awoke, fully, in a stinging pool of green, viscous liquid. His bones ache, his skin nearly bursts, and immediately he is torn out by a clawed hand. Talia Al Ghul, with her long acrylic nails, rips open his skin as she heaves him from the pool.

Pain. So much of it. She strokes his hair, but the remnants of the Lazarus pit still sting, and she's just massaging it deeper into his scalp.

Then they're running, fleeing from her grandfather. The wind is icy and cuts through clothes, more pain. At the edge of a cliff, he stares with wide eyes as she shoves a backpack into his arms and pushes him.

He falls through icy air into shards of even colder water.

The pain fuels him, drives him to seek the shore. It drives him to anger, rage. Why does it hurt? Why, why does everything hurt all the time? His scars, his skin, his heart. He remembers Bruce. Cold, callous, calculating. Alfred, loving but too busy with his duties. His classmates, laughing at him. A heaviness like a brick in his gut weighs him down and drives him.

He learns, he kills, he fights, he hurts.

When Talia sits across from him at a dining table, she drags soft fingers over his callused hands, and... it hurts. There are no nails, only soft pads of her fingers. Still, it sends a signal of pain, of danger, to his brain. He pulls his hand back and swallows a hiss.

Then he returns, the prodigal son of the Bat. Fully clothed, boots to gloves to even a helmet. No one is touching him, never again.

He places a bomb on the Batmobile, and falters as Bruce approaches. The weight in his gut keeps him from igniting the fuse, from pressing the button. And he curses at himself, you had one job. You came back for one fucking reason, and you can't even do that.

He crosses paths with the Bat after antagonising him from the shadows. Bruce beats him, but what hurts the most is the helmet shattering. His eye is exposed to the cold Gotham air, exposed to the malicious stare of the man before him. He blinks it away and lifts the helmet.

The confrontation goes exactly as you would expect.

After a long time, he is welcomed back. There are more, now. Child soldiers. They're friendly, though wary. Though he was once the happiest of them, his new reputation precedes him. Violent, angry.

He's not angry. He's hurt. Always has been.

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Fluffvember Prompt 10 - Accommodating

@ajscico I’ve been meaning to write some Sky & Time comfort for you for a long while and finally came up with something! Have a random post-Elastic Heart scene :)

x

Sky’s body ached. His world was jostling strangely, a muffled voice in his ear accompanied by a steady heartbeat. Dull light pierced through his eyelids, making his head ache. He groaned a little, tilting his face into fabric to hide from it.

A hand settled over the back of his head, catching him a little off guard. His brain tried to piece together what was happening, and he realized he must be resting against someone.

“He awake?” That sounded like Wild.

“Trying to be, I think.” Oh. Oh. He was resting against Time.

How in the world…? Other voices started registering in his head, and he tried to carve some kind of story out of the mess.

“Told you it would wear him out.”

“Okay, saying something would wear someone out is not the same as them collapsing.”

“Hush, you’ll wake him up!”

“He needs to wake up, when was the last time he ate or drank? Has anybody been keeping track?”

Sky furrowed his brow a little. Had he collapsed? He tried moving, but his body responded sluggishly.

The hand in the back of his head slid down to his back, rubbing it a little. “Sky?”

Blearily, the Skyloftian opened one eye to glance up at his leader. Time looked mostly serene, but there was a mild crease to his brow that denoted worry.

Sky hummed, the sound coming out rough and patchy, too tired to talk, and he buried his face back in the elder’s tunic.

He didn’t know why he’d collapsed. Was he hurt? He didn’t feel hurt. Just worn out.

He remembered the strike in the monster camp. He’d been scouting with Warriors and Wild. They’d taken out the camp together. No one has gotten hurt.

Sky frowned. Was he still so weak after his escapade? It had been three days.

He didn’t want to be useless to them after putting them through all that. Damn it.

Scrunching his nose, he let out a frustrated breath, pushing against Time to sit up. His elder supported him under his shoulders, hands steady.

“It’s okay,” Twilight said gently from beside him, hand on his back. “Take it easy. Wild has some food and water for you to help.”

“Sky.” Time’s voice was gentle but commanding, catching his attention. “Relax. We can help you. I don’t want you pushing yourself too much.”

Sky tried not to feel pathetic or upset. He tried to focus instead on how much his fellow heroes were willing to help. And… how warm and comforting it felt to be held by their leader. Slowly, he shifted, letting himself lean back down against Time’s chest. His leader adjusted him a little so he could receive some water from Wild, but his arm was wrapped firmly around the teenager, holding him close.

Sky pushed the memory of that desert dungeon away, the memory of apologizing over and over again as his breath left him, as Time held him. He imagined that Time was trying to do the same.

He’d caused so much damage.

He knew better than to apologize. Time would chew him out. So instead he just let himself be held, let himself be comforted, and sacrificed what little pride he had so that Time could have that comfort too.

“I’m okay,” he said tiredly after sipping on some water.

Time’s grip tightened, hugging him a bit more. It was the closest he’d get to an admission of worry. The man was fairly private with his feelings.

He heard the captain next as he ruffled his hair. “Of course you are. You just need to rest some more. That ought to make you happy.”

Sky frowned, shooting a grumpy glare at the older hero, and everyone laughed.

“Eat,” Time prompted. “Then go back to sleep.”

Sky sighed. He’d indulge him. He’d indulge all of them. He was used to pushing through far worse, but… there was no reason to.

“We got you, buddy,” Twilight said gently.

The words echoed in his mind as he ate, as Wild took the empty bowl away, as Time leaned back against a pile of blankets, letting Sky use him as a bed. For once, he didn’t berate himself. He just let himself enjoy it. He’d push harder tomorrow.

But for tonight, he’d let his brothers-in-arms take care of him.

[dark-moonlust]

Unmasking Desire

Commission October 2024 for anon!! This has so much sass, enemies-to-lovers vibes and smut!

Pairing: male Fae (Eli Thorn) x fem Vampire (Mara Sinclair)

Summary: a female vampire named Mara and a male fae named Eli are professors at the same university. They have been rivals since they met but they’ve been assigned to work on something together by the head of their department. Despite their attempts to get out of it, they agree to meet up to get the project done. Emotions are unleashed, their desire unmasked.

Warnings: 18+, oral (fem+male) foreplay, p in v sex, overstimulation, in public but magic keeps it private and no one finds them, many orgasms (fem), size kink, dirty talk, big fae🍆, lots of 💦.

Copyright @ 2024 by Kate Hart This commission is owned by Kate Hart. As the original writer, I strictly forbid any form of reproduction, replication, or translation of my stories without my explicit consent. This is a commissioned short story and will be posted on the author’s sites for others to enjoy.

Late evening found Mara sitting in the back corner of the library, her legs crossed, drumming her dark-red nails against the leather arm of the velvet sofa. It was a quiet Saturday, no one was around. The library was open for her convenience. Moonlight filtered through the tall, narrow windows, sending faint shadows across the room. Silver hair cascaded over her shoulders, framing her face but her lips were twisted, a frown on her features.

She didn’t like waiting—especially when it was for him.

Professor Eli Thorn.

He was the last damn male in existence she would have chosen to cooperate with.

The project.

It was the worst duty she'd ever been given. Runes and magical artifacts from the Lost Ages. The words of the chief department still rang out in her mind. He had handed in this assignment at them with a single directive: "You two are some of our best minds and I'll expect you to work together, whatever your personal differences. Your research will provide remarkable intel for our university.”

Of all the damn people she had to cooperate with him.

Of course, Mara had tried to wriggle her way out of the assignment no matter how great. But the head of their department had been firm. Mara was busy enough already and working with Professor Thorn was going to be a pain in the butt. He grated on her nerves. He was a silver-tongued devil who thrived in finding ways to pry into her carefully guarded life, somehow invading every hour of her day with his maddening charisma.

Mara had watched him glide through lectures with ease, the students and fellow professors eating out of his hand, captivated by his calm, dark voice. Yet for some strange reason, Professor Eli Thorn decided to focus all of that energy on her. No matter what assignment she chose, no matter how tough her research, he always managed to find a way into her orbit, arranging things so he could poke her logic.

The sound of approaching footsteps caught her attention. Her gaze sharpened as the door finally opened, the subject of her thoughts entering with that cocky, unconcerned strut that made her bite her lips and shift uncomfortably in her seat. Damn it… there it went again, that unnecessary attraction she felt every time she saw the irritating fae.

Tall and well-built, he strolled in the room, looking damn fine in a dark, brown vest over a crisp, white shirt, its sleeves rolled up to reveal strong, lean forearms tattooed with runes—signs of the ancient fae magic he possessed. His hands were also inked and full of veins, his fingers long and deft. He wore a single accessory: a silver ring set with a black opal, a powerful heirloom from his ancestors.

His face was sharply defined, clean shaven and as if crafted by an artist with an aristocratic jawline, slightly pointy ears, high cheekbones, a smirking mouth and chocolate dark skin. Eyes the color of deep green settled on her with a knowing glance. His lashes were long, his hair as black as midnight, falling to just below his jaw. Mara had noticed— completely randomly— that he often brushed it back when lost in thought or just in casual charm.

Why had that unimportant detail entered her mind again?

Clearing her throat, she returned his gaze boldly. “You are late, Professor Thorn.”

He raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smirk as he sat down irritatingly beside her on the sofa. “Missed me, Mara?”

“You keep calling me by my name when I’ve never given you leave to do so.”

“I know that deep down you just love it.”

Her jaw tightened. “I prefer it when people keep the professional boundaries.”

He didn’t reply and gazed at her silently, his eyes sweeping over her from head to toe, taking in her cold, almost regal stance. He lingered just a touch too long over her figure, noticed the way she tightened her thighs and he cursed himself for it. She was a creature of precision and discipline, yet at the same time, a living temptation, a dangerous mystery.

Yes, Eli thought silently, the vampiress was a vision, sitting there in a demure dark red dress that hid most of her smooth porcelain-pale skin. Yet, somehow, it managed to make her appear even more luscious, driving him mad with longing. She was tall, with generous curves and magnificent silver hair that fell in thick curls down her shoulders, reaching past her waist. Her hair was truly captivating, framing her face like a halo, emphasizing her striking blood-red eyes and lips— full bow-shaped lips, hiding her fanged teeth.

Eli had never met anyone like her. She was all prim, razor-edged disapproval and looked at him as if he were beneath her as if she'd rather drive a stake through his heart than spend another moment with him. But she also tugged at something deeper inside him, something darker within. There was a fire beneath that graceful pride of hers and he could sense it shimmering, scent her desire.

And the more he sensed that heat, the more he wanted to expose it—to shatter her walls, lay her bare, breathless and powerless, beneath, above him, in every position possible, every part of her entangled with him.

Bloody hell… he doubted he could complete the assignment after all. His defenses were crumbling. His patience snapping.

Eli swallowed back his innate craving and forced himself to focus.

"So," he said, breaking the tense silence between them. "How do you propose we divide the work, then?”

“I suggest we work separately and discuss only when necessary. I prefer my partners silent and obedient.”

Eli lounged back in his seat, his legs outstretching, arms nonchalantly folded across his chest. "Silent and obedient? Oh, Mara…" he drawled, allowing her name to slide off his lips. "It’s such a shame. I was never any good at obeying."

“Which, frankly, makes me question why I'm stuck with you.”

“Oh, poor you. But go ahead, sweetheart. Try pretending you don't want me here.”

“Enough with the useless talk. This project takes dedication and competence, I don’t want it to take forever, can we begin please?”

He grinned and stretched out with a leisurely look, obviously taking his time. "You know, judging by the fire in your eyes, it as if you wish you could make me disappear into thin air."

Eli saw her smile. Her lips curved, just a little, cute fangs peeking —and damn it, she was lovely.

“Was that a smile?” He leaned forward, his scent taunting her senses. “Pretty. Do it again.”

“Do you really think you're going to get to me with this nonsense?” she murmured, turning open her notebook in an attempt to avoid him.

He laughed. “How you wound me.”

She slammed her notebook shut and sighed. "If only.”

Another low husky laugh while he brushed his hair back and Mara couldn’t help but follow that motion. Warmth pooled in her belly and she flung herself up, quickly widening the gap between them. She hated him and his commanding, alluring energy that prickled her flesh.

No, she thought. Professor Eli Thorn was distracting and irritating. Nothing more.

Mara approached the tall bookcases but before she could grab a book, he was there, his chest pressing against her. Her notebook dropped to the floor and she clutched the bookshelf as she felt every line of his muscular chest against her back, his orangy musky scent surrounding her. He tantalized her senses, made her body tinkle in heat, liquid warmth trickling from her pussy. And yet she didn’t pull away.

“What are you— we are supposed to be looking over texts—ancient runes—”

“Hmmm,” he interrupted huskily. “It’s a project that will take a lot of work and cooperation.”

“Your games, Professor Thorne are pointless.”

“Tell me, Mara—do I get under your skin as much as you get under mine?” he drawled, his warm breath tricking her ear. He was at the end of his tether. Fuck patience. Fuck everything.

“I repeat, your games are pointless.”

“Liar.”

In a swift motion, he turned her over, his hard chest squeezing against her breasts and pressing her back against the shelves. Strong arms encircled her as she gasped and placed her palms into his chest, splaying her fingers wide to feel his muscles contract. Damn, he felt so good, so hard and unyielding, his scent wrapping around her.

“Yes, you are a liar,” he repeated, his voice husky, “you keep biting your lips, rubbing your thighs together.” He leaned down, his smirking lips inches from her own. “I can scent you, my naughty little vampiress. Your pussy must be soaked. Must be feeling so sore and needy down there, hm?”

“Is it amusing, Professor Thorne?” Mara’s voice was smooth but there was tension in her crimson eyes. “Treating me like this?”

“Amusing? Oh, absolutely.” His hands reached out, fingers burying in her silky hair. “I mean, how often do I get to see the perfect Mara Sinclair looking like she’s about to snap?“

"Release me. You're insufferable."

Mara struggled but didn’t use the full force of her strength. She could have him off of her in a few lethal movements, but she didn’t want to. She liked him exactly where he was. And he obviously liked it, too. He didn’t budge and chuckled low and deeply which both frustrated and left her breathless.

"And you enjoy every second of it, don't you? Go ahead, confess it. You pretend to hate me but you want me,” he drawled, pressing the head of his erection against her belly. “Gods, you drive me mad. I’ve wanted you ever since I looked at you.”

“If you think I’ll be drawn by your juvenile attempts at flirting, think again.“

“Oh, but you’re calling this flirting. And you know what? I believe there is a part of you that appreciates how I make you feel something other than perfect, something real."

Mara opened her mouth to reply only to have her breath shallowed by his mouth. His lips brushed against hers, tasted her before coaxing the seam apart and plunging inside. He growled at her taste, pinning her hands on either side of her head, his body pressing down on hers, his cock hard and pulsing. Nearly melting against him, Mara gave him her mouth, freely, opening at his invasion, their breaths and moans mingling. 

Eli broke apart the kiss for a second, marveling at her kiss-swollen lips. “All you have to do is let go for once.”

“So that you can break me?" Mara replied, half-dazed by the kiss.

His grin grew nasty, his green eyes flaring with something predatory. "Never. I’ll let you break me apart, sweetheart, do whatever you want with me.”

And then he was kissing her again, this time devouring her lips and letting his tongue taste her mouth. Mara felt her knees go weak and tried to pry her hands free. After a few tugs, he set her free and she hungrily roamed her hands over his body, touching his broad back, feeling up the muscles of his chest and shoulders. 

“Damn, Mara,” he groaned and gave a sharp thrust against her clothed belly. “It fucking hurts— hurts to be so hard for you.”

“Eli…” she whispered as she let her barriers fall, the carefully formed shields she had created collapsing under his touch.

“Finally, you called me by my name.”

His gaze met hers and she felt herself falling into the passionate green of his eyes, the desire simmering just beneath the surface, threatening to swallow them both. The line between desire and restraint snapped— it no longer mattered.

She was done hiding her emotions for him.

Done playing.

This one’s a bit longer than usual, so if you’re up for the full read, it’s available for free over on Patreοn. It’s open to everyone—come by and enjoy!

[itsashortworldafterall]

@cherryaire If I may clarify - I tried keeping my comments general for a reason- this isn’t or wasn’t about one instance as I commented. This is about the multiple instances of speculation I’ve been seeing across multiple platforms the last little while. And how it’s becoming a problem. No more no less. I also put this on other platforms. Others made it about one specific instance.

Again this wasn’t fighting for anyone in particular - I also said they can all defend themselves & they all have done multiple times. But we’ve also seen how quickly things turn. They aren’t on everything and that’s where as a fan base we have to hold one another accountable a little.

It is stalking to go onto the family and friends profiles if they don’t have a job in the field and to try and to do so find out private information specifically. I’m not talking looking a business profile here or simply popping on after you’ve seen them in a vid or something.

It is an invasion of privacy public profile or not. to take photos & speculate on what certain things mean. When I was talking about that that is what I consistently tried to make it about. 👍🏻

I’m also not the person who made those other comments and Ive only just seen them and I did I what I needed to do in regards to those but beyond my comment, It can take a sec to sort out 👍🏻

Also I chose to end the conversation because it was going round and round in circles trying to explain what we were meaning and clearly no one was changing their mind. Why drag it on.

Just tryna encourage things are kept chill and fun - that’s all - 👍🏻

Once again reminding YOU to be respectful of the people you watch and be mindful of the boundaries they’ve expressed. The amount of speculation/assumptions about people’s private life’s and relationships because we see them on a screen is truly beyond belief!

They will disclose information to their communities if/when they are ready to do so. If they are not disclosing something it’s private for a reason.

It goes beyond parasocial and is literally cyberstalking… you wouldn’t do it to random stranger and you wouldn’t like it done to you!

- it does affect their relationships & interactions

- your breaking boundaries they have continually expressed they’re not comfortable with

- A lot of them have expressed they’ve had safety concerns previously

- it’s not ok to go to their family/friends profiles who are NOT online in the same way accounts public or not to out find details about their life they haven’t disclosed. And especially then to take images/videos.

Thank you for coming to my ted talk!

[funnypages]

Lessons of Resistance from WWII: The Rosenstrasse Protest and Evacuation of the Danish Jews

So a long history rant I think people should know about and keep in mind for the future. I want to talk to people about a little talked about story in the history of WWII, the Rosenstrasse protest: the one time, during the height of the Holocaust, when the German public protested against the deportation of Jews; and they won.

1942-early 1943 was arguably the height of Nazi Germany; with most of the continent occupied, allied, or neutral to them. It was also 2 years into the Final Solution phase of the Holocaust, the planned mass killing of Jews. In February 1943, the government began the final round-up of the 20,000 remaining Jews in Berlin. This included a category of Jews that the government had previously avoided deporting: Jews married to gentile Germans. While the Nazis had cracked down on these relationships since they came to power, there were at this time 1,800 mixed couples remaining in Berlin; almost all Jewish men married to gentile women (After the consolidation of power under Hitler, more German men had divorced their Jewish partners than women).

When these Jewish men were arrested, hundreds of their non-Jewish spouses descended upon the building they were held in, bringing with them friends and families, screaming for their husbands to be released. The protests were so large, that the Nazis could not suppress news of it spreading through Germany and internationally; and they were also genuinely afraid that arresting or shooting these women could cause the situation to spiral even further into an outright uprising. As a result, the men were released, and most of them survived the war.

Now there are a lot of critiques and analyses that can be done of the protest, about privilege and gender, and noting that nothing was said about releasing the 18,000 other Berlin Jews set to be deported to camps. Still, the reaction that the public had to these deportations, combined with the shockingly hopeful story of Denmark in the Holocaust, gives some valuable lessons in how fascists can be thwarted.

Demark was invaded by Germany in 1939 and was given a degree of autonomy, being treated as the "model protectorate." While the Danish government did acquiesce to demands to ban Communist and Socialist political parties, they refused to enact racial laws targeting Danish Jews. While not to say anti-semitism didn't exist in Denmark, for reasons debated by historians and sociologists, Denmark did not have a strong history of "othering" its Jewish community, and it was largely seen as an accepted part of Danish society.

In September 1943, German plans to deport the Danish Jewish community to concentration camps leaked to the Danish government, which then alerted leaders of the Jewish community. Over 3 weeks churches, civil servants (notably mostly working independently of the government), political parties, the Danish resistance (mostly at this point made up of the before mentioned Communists and Socialists), and private individuals helped evacuate 7,220 Jews, plus 686 non-Jewish spouses, by sea to nearby neutral Sweden. For context, the Jewish population of Denmark before the invasion was around 7,800. Of the 580 Danish Jews who failed to escape to Sweden, 464 were arrested; however, work by Swedish and Danish groups saw 425 of them released. Further, when the war ended, it was discovered that 116 Danish Jews had been hidden by their neighbors. In all, a shocking 99% of Denmark's Jewish population survived the Holocaust; the most of any occupied nation in Europe.

I tell both of these stories because they show what fascists and authoritarians are aware of: the limits of their power. They are aware of the simple fact so much of their power comes from average people just accepting what they do with no pushback. These groups thrive on atomization, demonization, and otherization. Because when people refuse to let their neighbors be attacked, that's when issues pop up. There were other individuals and groups in Germany who spoke out against the Nazis (the White Rose and the Edelweiss Pirates to name a few), but they were small and disorganized, they could be arrested or exiled or killed without much effort. But large groups of resistance? How do you arrest or kill those without stopping their families and friends from protesting? And the foot soldiers enacting their agenda tend to get antsy if there is large-scale pushback to them. The big guys in charge might be safe, but them? They are vulnerable to being fired, sued, arrested, or ostracised if they are seen enacting unpopular policies. Such actions put authorities on the defensive, stall them, and make them reconsider their tactics; which in the long run, can save lives.

This is what people mean, whether they know it or not, over the last few days when they have been saying "Help those close to you, keep your friends close." They want you to think they are all-powerful. They want you to think they are unstoppable. They want you to think there is no hope in openly denying them. Because they know that if those few people openly defying them become large groups openly defying them, then things spiral out of control.

[moons-and-mobility-aids]

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve | Chapter Thirteen | Chapter Fourteen | Chapter Fifteen | Chapter Sixteen | Chapter Seventeen | Chapter Eighteen | Chapter Nineteen | Chapter Twenty | Chapter Twenty-One | Chapter Twenty-Two | Chapter Twenty-Three | Chapter Twenty-Four | Chapter Twenty-Five | Chapter Twenty-Six | Chapter Twenty-Seven

Content Warnings: Adult content, mostly accurate depictions of being an onlyfans creator (hi, I am one), reader is fem, uses a wheelchair, and has cerebral palsy.

The pain is an old acquaintance, but its visits are no less unwelcome. It starts in the small of your back, a dull throb that radiates upward until it rests heavily on your shoulders, seeping into your muscles and settling there like a weight you can't shake off. You've known this discomfort many times before—it's as much a part of your life as the wheelchair beneath you—but familiarity doesn't make it easier to bear.

On better days, you might distract yourself with work, lose yourself in the process of filming and editing until the hours slip away and the pain becomes a distant hum. But today isn't one of those days. Today, the pain screams for attention, and no matter how hard you try to push it aside, it refuses to be silenced.

You sit stiffly in your chair, every inch of your body tense as you stare at the screen of your laptop. Notifications blink in the sidebar—messages from subscribers, comments on your latest post, purchases from your latest PPV video. On any other day, these would bring a flicker of satisfaction, a reminder of the community you've built and the support they offer. But today, they're just another task, another demand on your time and energy when you have so little to spare.

The thought of spending the next hour fielding messages, putting on a brave face and keeping up the pretence of high spirits despite your fatigue is daunting. You know your limits, and right now, they're closing in. To push through would be to invite a storm of pain that could sideline you for days. And that's a risk you can't afford.

Drawing in a deep breath, you open a new message to your subscribers. You've done this before—those rare times when the pain became too much, and you needed to step away for a bit. Always vague, never revealing the true reason behind your absence. You've kept your health private since the beginning, and you don't intend to change that now.

You: Hey everyone 💕 just a quick note to let you know that some personal stuff has come up, and I need to take a break from messages for a few days. No worries, though! I have plenty of content scheduled, so you'll still see new videos and posts while I'm away. I'll be back to answering messages soon, but I just need a little time off. Thanks for understanding 💕 I'll talk to you soon.

The message sends, a faint sense of guilt washing over you. It's not that you've ever promised to be available around the clock, but there is an unspoken obligation that comes with managing your page. Your subscribers pay for the privilege of access, and while the content will continue as usual, it's the personal interaction that some of them crave.

You can almost see the responses now, words of concern mingling with offers of support. But those are worries for another time. Right now, all you need is rest, a reprieve from the constant demands of your online persona.

The pain has spread to your legs, a dull throb that promises no respite. A weariness settles over you, heavy around your eyes. You've done what you needed to do, set the wheels in motion for the next few days. Now, there's nothing left but to try and rest, despite the discomfort radiating from your body.

You manoeuvre your wheelchair closer to the bed, then reach out, fingers grasping the sheets. With a grunt, you pull yourself onto the mattress, each movement sending fresh waves of pain through your limbs. But finally, you're settled, your head sinking into the pillows. It's not perfect—far from it—but it's a hell of a lot better than the chair.

Your eyes flutter shut, and you focus on your breathing—in, out, in, out—trying to push away the persistent ache. For a while, there's only the sound of your own heartbeat, a steady rhythm in the quiet room.

Just as sleep begins to claim you, your phone buzzes on the bedside table. Your hand shoots out, instinctively reaching for the device. Another notification, another chance for income—it's a lifeline you can't afford to ignore. The screen lights up, casting a glow across your face. It's OnlyFans again, this time with a message from Prongs.

ProngsPlayground_free: I sent you a $100.00 tip with the attached message of 'Hey, love. Saw your message—hope everything’s okay. You don’t have to respond or anything, just wanted to send a little something to make your day a bit better 💖 take care of yourself.'

This isn’t the first time Prongs has tipped big, but this feels different. There’s no pay-per-view content you’ve sent, no special offer enticing the extra credits. He's tipped just because.

The screen blurs for a moment as you blink away sudden tears. You can’t afford to let them fall, not with the makeup you’ve painstakingly applied, but the emotion is there all the same. Gratitude swells within you, raw and real, mingling with something else—a sense of connection that goes beyond the superficial exchanges you’re used to. Fans don’t usually do this, not without expecting something in return. Tips often come with demands; they are transactions, not gifts. But this... this feels genuine.

Prongs doesn’t know the half of it, doesn’t know the circumstances behind your plea, but he seems to care. Is it possible? Can someone who watches you night after night from a world away actually see you—not the fantasy, but the person beneath?

A flicker of temptation stirs within you, the thought of thanking him for his words, just a brief reply to acknowledge that you've seen it. It would be nothing more than a courtesy, a small gesture to show he isn't shouting into the void. But you remember why you sent the message in the first place—you need to disconnect, retreat from the world and nurse your wounds in solitude. You can't afford to engage, not even with Prongs, whose energy often brings comfort and laughter.

Not today.

Nevertheless, as you set the phone aside, a faint smile tugs at your lips. It's but a small thing, this unseen thread connecting you to another soul in the vastness of the universe, yet it lightens the weight on your chest, if only for a moment. He doesn't know the truth of your situation, the depth of the shadows clouding your vision, but the simple act of reaching out, however unknowingly, reminds you that you're not entirely alone.

The day stretches on, feeling longer than most as your body refuses to cooperate. The pain ebbs and flows like a tide against the shore of your tolerance. You try to distract yourself by scrolling through social media, watching videos, but nothing holds your attention for long. Your thoughts keep circling back to your OnlyFans account, the accumulating messages, the content you're unable to create.

You've always been organised, scheduling your posts at least two weeks in advance. No one will truly notice your absence from the platform—not yet—but the knowledge does little to ease the tension coiling in your gut. There's a gnawing sensation that you're falling behind, missing out on opportunities to grow your following, even as you know health should take precedence.

The sun has long since set, casting your room into a cocoon of darkness only broken by the glow of your computer screen, when another message notification pings.

ProngsPlayground_free: Just wanted to let you know that Moony and Pads send their love too. They asked me to pass it along. 😉 No need to reply, but we're all looking forward to having you back.

A soft chuckle escapes your lips, a tiny release of tension in the tight coil of your chest. The heaviness is still there, yes, but so is something else. Something warm and quiet that whispers, "You're not alone."

Because it's true. You've always known, on an intellectual level, that OnlyFans is more than just content creation—it's about fostering connections, providing a personal touch even across the digital divide. But it's one thing to understand that in theory, and quite another to feel it so acutely when you're the one needing reassurance.

The thought of them—Prongs, Moony, Padfoot—possibly sitting together somewhere, their eyes glued to your videos, their hands flying over keyboards to send these messages. They care. It's a small balm on the raw wound of today, even if you cannot reach out to them in return.

Your eyelids grow heavy as you let the phone slip from your fingers and clatter onto the bedside table. You sink further into the plush pillows, body still aching, but mind finding a semblance of peace amidst the chaos. Maybe you won't be able to film for a while. Maybe you won't be able to reply to every message, every show of support. But that’s okay. Your fans, they understand. They'll wait for you, just like they always have.

And for now, that has to be enough.

[skele-bunny]

Thinking about Aether and Dew baby...

This follows Calida's timeline!

CW - Pregnancy, Mentions of past Traumatic Pregnancy (but this is a fluff post!)

It's been a good few years, now. Calida now a rambunctious teenager, the ministry settled down while there's no tours for a good while. It's comfortable! The topic comes up one night, Dew settled in the bed with Aether on their day off together;

"Firefly?"

"Hm?"

"Promise you won't bite me if I ask something?" An eyebrow raise but Dew promises. "How would you feel about another baby?"

"Another?" Dewdrop sits up a little, resting more on the headboard as he grimaces some. "I dunno, Aeth... Calida's was rough as is. I had her early, and all the complications, and just the mental side of it? I'm not sure... Why?"

"Just been thinking, that's all. Maybe something in the air, all the babies I've been helping deliver with the siblings. I dunno either. Just thought, maybe, it would be nice to have tiny feet running through the den again."

Dewdrop just chews his lip and nods, eventually going into silence before going to the bathroom suddenly. Closes the door and stares at himself in the mirror for a bit, so many thoughts racing. He doesn't realize how long it's been until Aether knocks to check on him, Dew opening the door and looking up, holding his breath.

"Okay."

"Okay, what?"

"Let's have another. But on my conditions."

"What- Oh, okay! What's your conditions?" Aether can't help his tail wagging.

"We're gonna go talk to my therapist and double, triple, fucking quad check that this isn't just a breeding thing for you... A-and I only want you, or Phil, or- or just that really nice midwife you introduced me to at the Halloween party, Alexa... If... If I get pregnant again. No one else."

Aether just nods, taking Dewdrop's hand, leading him back to bed. "Those are all reasonable. I can call for an appointment in the morning. Sound fair?"

"Yeah... Sounds fair."

It's about two months worth of sessions, both privately and together, making sure that YES. They want this! Dew is mentally ready for this again, Aether isn't in some kink phase, etc. They even talk to Calida who's more than excited about a little sibling! Dewy gets off his testosterone and starts taking supplements, and circles his first heat for them to start trying. They keep everything quiet for a while, and even more months of failed attempts to conceive. It's about month four when Dew wakes Aether up, sitting on his lap with two positive pregnancy tests.

They're SO fucking excited but keep their expectations mellow. Dewdrop's health has much changed since Calida, plus they don't know if the egg will fully stay intact. Still, it is exciting for Aether to smell how fruit Dewdrop is. Constantly scenting him to see if there's any changes but also to cover the smell around the others. Every night Aether has his eyes full of stars and a gentle hand on Dew's stomach, whispering to Dewy what he sees, how small it is, but still so full of fluids and cells.

Two months, they agree to tell the others. It goes as they expect, excitement and extra affection, a ghoul pile that even Copia makes time to join.

"Have you started thinking about names or anything like that?" Sunny is laying here head on Dew's thigh, smiling SO wide.

"No, not just yet. Things can still change so we're waiting at least until near the end of the second trimester."

"Makes sense," Swiss chimes in. "Does Calida know?"

Aether is the one to laugh, leaning over. "That girl scared the birds away from how excited she got. She was the first to know."

Now, Dewdrop wouldn't trade Calida for the world. But he wishes he had this gentleness when he was expecting her. The kindness and a huge pack so that he doesn't have to strain and try to keep up, that he knew early, how accommodating everything's been. There's times he'll just hold his stomach and look in the mirror, so much deja vu of when he did it in hotel bathrooms while on tour. Speaking to Calida and telling her she was going to be the light of his life, and now he's doing it again. Just another piece for a puzzle he didn't know wasn't completed yet.

He's put on bed rest once more, too many high risks going on, and he starts eventually experiencing... Systems.

"What do you mean they're weird?"

"They're just fucking weird, Aether! Just, okay, tickle me."

He blinks. "You hate being tickled."

"I know! Just do it!"

He shrugs and does a little wiggle of his fingers before attacking Dew's sides and armpits. Listening to him squeal and laugh, grimacing and eventually - the TV turns on. Aether is staring at it while Dew catches his breath.

"See? Weird fucking shit! If I sneeze the lights turn on and off, when I get headaches my phone's battery dies, and like... It's so strange!"

Aether whistles a little, rubbing the back of his neck. "Oh we're so having a quint."

"Huh?"

Aether looks him dead in the eyes, but a big goofy smile. "You're having magick surges. Little bit is reacting to you, and quintessence is a hell of a thing. Starts while still in the womb, my mother in the pit had almost the same things happening. Less technology and more of like, levitation. We're having a quint!"

Dew blinks before breaking into cries. "Woah, woah! What's wrong, my love?"

"I'm gonna look like a fucking watermelon you ass-wipe!" Hitting him softly but still crying.

Poor thing isn't even six months yet, but he looks like he's eight! Mumbling about his feet hurting, his legs more swollen than normal, cravings that are insanity to even be thought of. It's when he's in the nursery, tying ribbons on the crib when he gasps at a feeling, holding his stomach... It happens again.

He doesn't even get the full trill before Cumulus and Mountain are RAMMING into that door.

"What's wrong?!"

But, he's smiling, beckoning them over. Takes both of their hands and puts it on his bump, shushing them every time they try to ask. There's a kick and their eyes go wide, Dew just as much. It's much softer than normal kicks, but that's to be expected from the egg sack still around them.

Then, finally, a gender reveal. Expecting a tiny little girl, Aether excited as he's always been a girl dad, adjusting some of the things in the nursery to match her.

"Teddy."

"Hm?"

Dew is playing with a tiny onesie, keeping his eyes locked on it. "What do you think of the name Starshine?"

"Starshine?"

"Yeah," his thumb going over the embroidered star on the onesie. "For our daughter."

Aether hums, thinking it over a little before he nods. "Yeah... Yeah, I like that."

He makes it to full term, after an agonizing day and a half of his water being broken and no dilation. Clutching to Aether and Mountain, Alexa between his knees to help course their daughter out. Mountain's fur is sticking up from the amount of electricity from Dew holding him, then with how hot he is. There's a bit of a power surge at the final push before the lights come back. Dewdrop sobbing as he dead weights against the two, staring at the ceiling but ears completely focused on Starshine's mad cries as she's cut from the sack.

Good god they though Mountain was furry? That poor girl is gonna need haircuts WEEKLY. Aether and Dew laughing a bit as they're holding this purple blob of fur, some soft white on her belly and in her ears. Hair blonde, just like Dewdrop's.

Mountain congratulating them and helping Alexa clean up a little while the new parents again bask in the afterglow with their new daughter :3

[discordiansamba]

jin squints at him.

"wait," she says, "-you're not lee, are you?"

"no," he says, "-uh. zuko here. i guess this isn't really our first time meeting but-"

"oh wow," she says, "-you were telling the truth."

zuko can't help but bristle. did you think I- lee- was making it up? why would he- i- lie about this? jin arches an eye at the slip-up and zuko just groans. look. it's confusing to keep it all straight sometimes. she gives him a considering look, before taking his hand.

"come on," she says, "-let's talk somewhere a little more private."

zuko's not entirely sure what to do, so he just just kind of follows her. there are a few confused whispers as they pass- from people he recognizes as knowing both jin and lee. she leads him off the main paths of the middle ring, into a familiar park. they'd always walk through it whenever he met her on the way back from the bathhouse.

well. lee did.

she finds a quiet bench and sits down on it. zuko shifts awkwardly on his feet for a few moments, before she pats the spot next to her and he sits down.

"so," she asks, "-here to try and conquer the city again?"

zuko groans, and hangs his head. why is that the first thing everyone asks me? i mean, it's fair, but- whatever. anyways. the answer's no. i got that out of my system. turned over a new leaf. he's also uh. sorry. for doing that. if it helps any, he'd kind of ended up experiencing it right alongside them. it sucked.

jin says she's surprised he cut his hair.

"lee did that, actually," zuko says, "-i guess he was finding his resolve."

shame, she says. long hair looked cute on you. zuko feels his cheeks heat up, and jin scoots closer. so? how do you feel about me now, prince zuko? he averts his gaze. she's so close they're almost touching- and then they are. she puts a hand on his knee, and he swears he feels his heart skip a bit.

...oh. shit.

he's still in love with her.

it must show on his face, because jin gives him a sly smile. she's flattered, prince zuko, but she barely knows you. how about you take her on a nice date so she has a chance to get to know the real you a little better. maybe this weekend? she has a day off then. and she's pretty sure you're free whenever.

"...what do you mean by that?" zuko asks.

"pretty sure princes don't have jobs," jin says.

"being a prince is a job!" zuko counters.

"uh huh," she says, "-and are you doing your job right now, your highness?"

"...no," he admits, "-i'm uh. on sabbatical. for... medical reasons."

jin snorts into her hand. that's a really funny way to refer to being brainwashed. zuko cracks a smile. he'd... missed her, he thinks. he can see why lee fell in love with her. it makes him think that maybe they weren't that dissimilar after all.

...he still has no idea if it'll work out or not. jin still might not like him.

"oh," jin says, "-but this time... don't let your uncle do your hair."

in spite of himself, zuko laughs.

iroh was across the threshold of the room in a flash, dragging him into a tight embrace. in any other situation, zuko probably would have complained about the lack of air, but instead he just buried his head into the crook of his uncle's neck.

"uncle," he says, "-i'm so sorry."

"i am the one who should apologize, zuko," iroh says, "-for not being able to protect you."

for a long time, they don't say anything. zuko is keenly aware that they're being watched by the avatar and his friends. seeing uncle again feels a lot like coming home, even though zuko's... unsure where home is now. he'd gotten so used to living in ba sing se.

he can't stay here, though.

everyone in this city knows his face- and knows that face belongs to lee. but zuko isn't lee anymore. he can't pretend to be him. he'd made this choice as lee, knowing that he'd have to give up the life he'd built for himself here. now that he was zuko again, he didn't think he could stomach putting on earth kingdom green and living a life of serving tea.

uncle finally pulls away from him, patting his shoulders. he tells him that he is going to make the tea this time, and that's final. zuko laughs, and lets him. it's weird. he kind of thought he would hate tea after... everything, but it's become a comfort to him. maybe it's just a trace of lee that he's never going to get rid of.

aang and his friends wisely choose to excuse themselves, to give them a bit of privacy. iroh watches them go, and tells zuko that he's proud of him for putting that past of his behind him. zuko just huffs. he congratulates his uncle on becoming fire lord.

they sit and drink tea together. iroh catches zuko up to speed on what has happened in the fire nation in his absence. zuko... hesitantly tells him a few things about his life as lee, since it's all he really has to talk about. uncle leans over the table with a leering grin when he makes the terrible mistake of bringing up jin, asking what his plans are.

"...i have no idea," zuko admits, "-i think i might actually need to see her again first. i don't know if i even still like her. i don't know if she'll even still like me."

uncle tells him that he can take as much time as he likes. he must still have lingering attachments to this city. there is no judgment in his tone. and... he's right. zuko doesn't think he'll ever be able to bring himself to put on earth kingdom green again, but he's grown fond of ba sing se. it's weird. he feels like he should hate it.

it had been his prison.

he just hadn't known it.

the next day, zuko decides to bite the bullet and go see ba sing se with his own eyes. he'd seen it before- but his time as lee had changed him. he stays in fire nation red, but he ties a wound cover around his scar to hide what it actually looks like. he can't see lee in the mirror anymore, but he knows other people likely will.

besides. it's not like he can see out of the damn eye anyways.

walking the familiar streets of the middle ring as himself is a strange experience. he knows so many of these people. for some of them he can even rattle off their usual order. some of them were even his friends. they give him an odd look as he passes, but zuko pointedly does not look at them. if he pretends he doesn't know them, it'll probably be fine.

"lee?"

two years of responding to that name has zuko turning his head before he can stop himself. thankfully, the person who called out to him is just jin.

...oh. it's jin.

...well. fuck. guess he's making this decision now.

[phatholic]

sorry i slipped