#and who holds all the power over their own future which you don't

[taradactyls]

This is a really great example of how the reader's emotions affect our view of a character's actions.

We know from very early on that Henry isn't serious, and we have a pretty critical opinion of Maria and Julia, who he's toying with. It's just a mess of jealousy and selfishness and characters who aren't thinking empathetically of others or being very wise. We simply aren't sympathetically emotionally engaged with any of those characters or the situation.

Whereas the first time we encounter Sense and Sensibility it's natural to see Willoughby's intentions as generally coming from love, even when there are a few inconstancies raised. Because we don't know his history and we are more likely to sympathise and agree with kind and sensible Elinor and kind, if sometimes overly passionate, Marianne. When he abandons Marianne, and ignores her when they meet in London, discarding her for another, we hate him.

We don't know about his seduction of Eliza yet: only his falseness towards Marianne, how desperately he hurt her after encouraging her affections, and how little he seems to feel about it. That's all criticism which can apply to Henry Crawford - perhaps even moreso to Henry at this point, since as far as we know Willoughby isn't a repeat offender and we know Henry is. Both men deliberately inspired love in a woman they had no serious intentions towards and had done it before and would likely have done it again if the consequences of their lifestyles didn't catch up to them. The difference is in our (and Elinor's/Fanny's) sympathy towards the victims, our insight into the gentlemen's motivations from the beginning, and the focus of the narrative on the emotional fallout. If Maria had had the sensibilities of Marianne she might have fallen into the same level of grief, and if Marianne had the resentment of Maria she may've also made decisions based on spite. There is also something to be said, if we include Eliza into the mix, that only the woman with the sensible, caring, and emotionally and physically present support system was able to ultimately come out the other side of falling for these men without her future being irreparably ruined.

We do of course find out more about Willoughby that paints him even worse - seducing and abandoning a girl is horrific. But even before that the way readers view both Willoughby and Henry Crawford and their victims hugely differently is always surprising.

And then lets see how that also applies to how we view their seductions.

Eliza was younger and perhaps sheltered, and I do think that was objectively worse. But readers seem only too eager to forget that Maria was also expecting marriage, also deliberately misled as to the level of affection he felt for her, and in an emotionally vulnerable position and trying to escape an unhappy marriage (I wonder if anyone bothered explaining properly what her wifely duties towards Mr Rushworth - whom she neither liked nor respected, and who viewed her superficially - would entail, and then on top of that having power struggles with her MIL) literally the only way feasible.

Both women knew what they were doing would injure their families/caretakers and wasn't 'right' as such and were only too happy to accept the gentlemen's attentions, and they were both taken advantage of and deceived. They both suffered the consequences in a disproportionate amount to their male counterparts - not only in the narrative and likely the public perception of contemporary readers in an incredibly sexist society, but still so today. Even though I imagine so many readers hate victim-blaming, slut-shaming, and the like. The added cheating aspect can explain some of it, because Maria unarguably acted badly towards her husband, but somehow that criticism also seems to fall solely at Maria's feet and never Henry's, even though he also knew Rushworth, pretended to be friendly with him, and knew exactly what he was doing. It is absolutely a greater betrayal on Maria's end, but Henry is not an innocent and unknowing party in this, and does seem to view his own actions as akin to cheating on Fanny.

Maria is a great example of how someone doesn't need to be a perfect - or even that likeable - person to still be a victim of another; and how this general dislike of a victim (and I think disliking Maria is plenty justified) is often used to exonerate the actions of the person who preyed upon them.

We don't even know if Eliza Williams is that different from Maria Bertram, or Lydia Bennet, for that matter. She's a perfect victim because we never see her, and so the fandom has only sympathy for her and condemnation for Willoughby. But if we did see her, if we saw her being silly, selfish, vain, or any other number of dislikeable traits, would we have less sympathy for her situation? Would we think Willoughby less at fault?

Because we shouldn't. Willoughby's pursuit of self-indulgence without a care for her life being ruined is the same regardless of whether Eliza was as sweet as Georgiana Darcy or as silly and self-centred as Lydia Bennet at the time they they were persuaded to elope. And we should apply that to Henry Crawford, who, just like Willoughby, knew what he was doing, was happy to lie just as much in the pursuit of his enjoyment, held no qualms over manipulating women or breaking their hearts and (in Maria and Eliza's cases, respectively) ruining their life and reputation forever.

We shouldn't give Henry Crawford an easier time just because neither us as readers nor characters we like were deceived by him. He's cut from the same cloth as both John Willoughby and George Wickham when it comes to a general disregard of others and pursuit of their own gratification above all morals and empathy. And I truly believe that if his true nature was a plot twist, or his victims more sympathetic, readers wouldn't be so eager to forgive him.

In another note on Mansfield Park – the thing that bothers me most about Henry Crawford is that he is doing, repeatedly, exactly what Willoughby did to Marianne in Sense and Sensibility: charm them, get them to fall in love with him, give them all the social signals that he is about to propose marriage, and then drop them and act like they were reading too much into it. From the way he and Mary talk, he’s done this to dozens of women. Willoughby differs in that he ended up actually falling for Marianne, whereas Henry does not fall in love with his conquests (until he tries to play this trick on Fanny, who remains unconquered).

And we hate Willoughby for what he did to Marianne! Marianne’s experience with Willoughby came near to being life-ruining, she was so devastated by it.

Willoughby is worse in his seduction and abandonment of Eliza, Colonel Brandon’s ward, but not in any other respect.

And the excuse made for Henry Crawford seems to be the assumption/assertion that these offscreen women were all silly, shallow, and vain, and only their pride was hurt. But there’s no reason to actually believe this! It’s just placing the blame for Henry’s actions on the people that he’s mistreating and making miserable.

It frustrates me to see this written off as “flirting”. It’s much more than that! When he toys with Maria at Sotherton, he is telling her in clear symbolism that she should drop Rushworth for him and, if she does, he will marry her. He is lying. And saying of all the women he’s lied to, “They should have known better,” is not remotely an excuse.

[khaoala]

I've been trying to interrogate my own feelings re. all the sulky/jealous First shenanigans, because I haven't been able to enjoy them as much as I wanted/expected to, and (bear with me on this, I'm still trying to sort it out in my own head!) I think it comes down to the fact that First hasn't quite received the same recognition as an actor that Khao has, and I don't just mean in terms of awards/nominations, but things like JoJo's dream cast including Khaotung, Gun, Fourth (and possibly someone else?) but not First, or Khaotung more frequently getting name-dropped by other GMMTV actors. I'm not saying First never gets praised, or that he's not considered an excellent actor, but I do think that if asked to name great actors, most ppl would think of Khaotung just that millisecond before they'd think of First. And I'm sure a lot of that is down to the nature of roles they've played and how a character like Ray or a subplot like Gaipa's mum in MLC are scene stealers that - understandably and rightfully - stick in ppl's minds. So this isn't me trying to say one is better/worse than the other or that there's a gross injustice in play (though I do think First as Akk should have received much more recognition!). But with that in mind, when there's talk about future collaborations and jokes about Khaotung moving on, even though I'm sure it's 99.9% unserious on First's part, I do wonder if that 0.1%, on some level, worries about being left behind or holding Khao back, not because I think that's in any way grounded in truth or that Khao himself would ever countenance that, but just because of that wider context I mentioned in terms of their relative status in their field. And also because we know that First, however confident he is in his abilities, is also an incredibly sensitive person. I'm trying to imagine a role reversal, where the same scenario played out but with someone wanting to collaborate with First, and maybe it's just me but I can't quite picture it playing out in the same way, and not because Khaotung isn't possessive/protective of their relationship, but just because...I don't know! It feels almost like there's an unspoken agreement that of COURSE everyone wants to work with Khaotung and of COURSE he's going to go on to great things, that I just don't quite feel would be applied to First in the same scenario, which means the joke wouldn't work in the same way. Or maybe it's just that First gets teased more full-stop and I'm the one being oversensitive! I promise I'm not one of those fans who catastrophises or sees disaster/estrangement in every tiny thing, and it's not that I'm worried myself about the future of their partnership. Like I said, I was just curious about why, despite the chuckling, I was feeling slightly uneasy, and that's what I came up with! We know First is ambitious as an actor, that he takes it incredibly seriously, that he WANTS to win awards, and no matter how selfless his love for Khao is and how proud he is of him, I think it's a little naive to pretend he's never once felt anything bout the fact he's yet to receive that same recognition, especially when they're working alongside each other - that doesn't mean he's jealous of Khao, or that he's a bad person or bad friend/partner, or make his happiness for Khao's success any less genuine. So yeah, I couldn't help but wonder if, beneath all the hilarity and silliness and OTT sulking, there wasn't just a kernel of genuine insecurity. I mean, it'd be very on-brand of First to turn his actual fears and doubts into a skit starring himself as the butt of the joke - that's just classic people-pleaser with self-esteem issues behaviour, and the reason I recognise it is cos I'm one too! Sorry for rambling. Don't really know why I felt the need to word vomit all over your blog - think I was trying the whole 'name the thing then the thing no longer has any power over you' trick!

ngl, this rise in talk about fk and vibes and interactions have been bothering me since it started a couple of weeks ago and i'll adress that now for the only time bc i feel the need to, like yourself anon, let this out just so i can feel a little better. pls know that despite referring to you, i don't mean to sound mean to you in specific, anon. it's more of a general impression of what i've seen on somsomtw recently and especially. i do realize that i'll sound a bit aggressive in this, but it's nothing personal to you.

people have been complaining about fk joking about this "moving on" thing, and working with other artists for the past three days (just bc they happened to have three days in a row of events, in first's case) but they only started joking about this bc fans have been senselessly talking about them having a fight that never existed and they leaned on that. quite genuinely, in the last couple of years that i've been in this fandom, this is the first time these things took so much force. it's imperative that we, as fans recognize when they are joking for funsies and given their nature and public image, they would never ever make it obvious if they were actually having a fight or a disagreement (the fact that people have been dead set on the idea that first has a girlfriend just bc of those pictures he posted on valentine's day and taro cards just adds to the histeria me thinks).

as actors, we all must agree that both first and khaotung have been severely underutilized by gmm (by choice or bc projects weren't presented to them, both are viable options). and i completely agree with you in the sense that first especially has not received as much direct praise as khaotung has. you mentioned the possibility of first somehow feeling like he's holding khaotung back which reminded me of someone (i can't remember who, i'm sorry) saying that when they got paired up, first solo fans were pissed bc first was definitely the most known of the two and that khaotung would be the one holding first back. i think it's really naive of us to think that, with the relationship they have, we assume that instead of talking about their insecurities with each other (like we know they've done in the past when they chose to let us know) and have a mature conversation between them, they'd talk about it in front of cameras. they know they have an image and a reputation, do we really think they'd bring that up if it wasn't just for jest?

(and this is what first himself talked about in his press talk after today's event, too)

you know what bothers me a little about this "khaotung can move on to do other things talk"? so far we're only aware that he might or might not have a collaboration with other artists for lol, but besides that he has no other projects (and he didn't have any solo events this year, too, besides the qingdao fm), but first is confirmed and will start filming for my magic prophecy really soon, so honestly, in theory, shouldn't people be saying the opposite? like first is moving on to act with other people for real, it's actually happening, but there are some people who are pressed by the possibility of it happening for khaotung. and might i add too, idk if this happens with every couple, but idk where this idea of working with other people became "this is the end of their career as a cp, they are getting other partners" (not you anon, but i've seen this quite a bit around), and i don't know what kind of mental gymnastics some of you are doing to justify that. WORKING WITH OTHER PEOPLE IS GOOD. THEY ARE ACTORS. THEY NEED THE EXPOSURE AND IT'S A GOOD THING THAT THEY HAVE MORE CONTACT WITH OTHER PEOPLE! dr. karn won't have a romantic interest i don't think, but god's forbid if either first or khaotung ever get paired up with a woman (like most bl men already were like earth, tay, new, gun, off, sea, jimmy, joong, dunk, and basically everyone else), because i've never seen a fandom that likes to fragilize a relationship that has proved to be anything but fragile like some soms do.

from what they've allowed us to see, first seems like one of the most genuine and caring people ever. we can't never put our hands on fire for celebrities bc they only let us see what they want us to see, but when you have two people who are highly praised not only professionally but also personally by pretty much every one of their colleagues and bosses, you can at least get an idea of to base yourself on. i'm not saying that first might not have felt insecure about it, but i think it's disrespectful to think that we know better than them of how to navigate this situation. what benefit would it bring to them, if they were actually beefing to bring this up with media and fans?

i'm not disregarding first's feelings, i must also add. we know he wants recognition and wants to be known, that's why he's in the industry, and i hope he gets nominations as kant this year bc he deserves it so much (still baffled that he didn't get anything with akk. it is one of his most impressive performances in my opinion), but i'll say it again, they only started joking about this matter bc fans made a fuss about this first. they are just leaning on the joke and the media keeps asking about it and he keeps reassuring it is a joke but he still jokes, because people love talking about it. he wouldn't be doing that if fans didn't bring it up and p'leo commented about it on the lol press tour and they were forced to address that. joong and dunk, being gremlins and chaos bringers as they are encouraged them to lean on that pretended-jealousy thing bc that's what they do themselves. they play with the circunstancies fans create (joongdunk have the advantage here bc differently from fk who usually don't address when fans are being ridiculous, joong calls them out tho).

i find it funny that, if you're a fk fan, you must know one of the things that brought them fans in the first place besides their acting ability and chemistry is the fact that they have a extremely close and meaningful relationship (besides the intensive ghost shipping project they were on before becoming an actual pair with the ig lives and brand collaborations and despite khaotung being paired up with podd at the time, first always lurking in the corner). but people are so easy to flip and turn their actions and words into something else. for a couple you're always praising for having a close bond (we call them soulmates, don't we?), some people really think their relationship is extremely fragile to not be able to endure.

[maythedreadwolftakeyou]

thinking about Lucanis again (always). and how so much of his narrative boils down to the theme of "control". and of course also about how this applies to the Rook x Lucanis relationship.

like the first scenes with him in the game are, in theory, about freeing him from the Ossuary (although he seems to have an escape attempt already in progress at the time, they certainly weren't just letting him keep those knives on him for enrichment purposes, Rook just provided an opening/distraction he could take advantage of and crucially Rook has A Way Out of the whole place not just a cell). but ACTUALLY the purpose it to put him right into a new contract for Us, one set up by his own grandmother and first talon no less, and the person he has the MOST trouble saying no to. He's escaped torture and the Venatori for sure but he still isn't free, which I think is part of what leads to Spite's confusion/the Inner Demons plotline. He agrees to the contract but you can tell it's in many parts out of a sense of duty/mourning vs something he actively wants to do for himself. And then the FIRST real heartfelt conversation you have with him, where he tells you "even before I was captured, my life was not really my own. So much had been determined for me." But he's chaffaing at that! He thinks "to live truly is to live fully" and so directly tells you he doesn't think he's lived a life true to himself. He's been constantly smothered by the weight of expectations around him, even though he longs for more.

And then once you get him to the Lighthouse you see how this Big lack of control in his life comes out as all these smaller frustrations. He's terrified of sleeping and downing 11 cups of coffee per hour because sleeping means he will lose control to Spite, even though Spite is shown to flee rather than fight when he feels threatened, and once calmed down, is more drawn to just benign curiosity/mischief than anything actively malicious. Like if Lucanis loses control and sleeps for a few hours he is not going to wake up surrounded by bloodshed, he's going to wake up to a belly full of candle wax because he wouldn't like Spite taste one while they were awake. Which is the other half of this--he constantly denying Spite's impulses for reasons that in some ways make sense (HE doesn't want to eat candles), but not in a way that's actually satisfying to either of them (why not just take a bite, chew for a bit, and spit it out so Spite knows they kind of suck actually?). But he CAN say no to Spite and so he does. Over and over. Spite's one of the few people he can deny things without feeling bad about it, because it's HIS body he doesn't like that has to share now (<- this is what he thinks about it at first anyway, but he's wrong, it's both of theirs and it's useless to try to hold those kind of boundaries forever. but the "no its mine" spiteful instinct is very beautifully ironic and reflective of them both and their early relationship).

And personally I think this is where his fear of his own desires and intimacy is coming from, at the root. I don't think he's afraid of the concept of being in a romance or having feelings (even if they're unusual and rare for him, this is by no means incompatible with him being demi) but I DO think he is afraid of the kind of power it gives people over you. Getting something you want means there's something else that can be taken away. Admitting your desire means the other person has the opportunity to deny that. The more you have, the more you have to lose, and he has lost again and again and again in his life--his parents, his childhood to the crows, his independence, even his future--he doesn't aspire to be first Talon but he knows the rumors. He knows his grandmother wanted it for him, not Illario. His life path has been laid out for him by others and up to this point he has simply been going along with it anyway, even though it bothers him. He COULD argue and fight Caterina and push for Illario who actually wants the job to be First Talon instead, but from The Wigmaker Job we know he doesn't. He just ignores it and pretends maybe it won't happen, without him having to do any of the work. Which is why in the end Illario is the one who has to make a move about it (and even warns Lucanis of this!!!!). Lucanis KNOWS all this makes him a target but is neither taking charge or getting off of the train tracks, just closes his eyes.

And I think THIS context is what makes the almost kiss scene in the pantry make more sense to me. Rather than being afraid of having feelings (and then NEVER addressing this in game with a Rook who pursues him anyway) or not knowing how to finish what he's started via crow seduction training, it's more like this is a pivotal moment where he can actively choose to step off the planned path of be given a job -> kill the gods -> enact revenge -> go home. even if he doesn't at that point realize that a relationship with Rook could be something that lasts long-term, the very act of doing something just for himself is what's foreign and scary and hard. It's that first step off the tracks, and even if he were to keep walking in the same direction, it means he's making a choice about it. he's accepting that one way or another it IS in his power to go along with everyone else's plans or not. Hence the hesitation, and drawing back, and needing to clear his head.

And then the rest of Rook's role in his narrative IS about giving him more and more control for himself. Inner Demons, dealing with Illario, his questlines move less towards revenge and more towards just... not being locked into one fate. Which of course Caterina comes back and immediately tries to overturn by declaring him First Talon after all, even though she and him and everyone else knows she's not ACTUALLY ready to give up her rule/decision making power yet. Which in a way is maddening because cmon I did all this work here so this sad man could have some agency in his own life just to watch him get sucked right back in (which, at least we get many directions to headcanon from here), but there's no denying that THIS version of Lucanis at least is actually going in with his eyes open now. THIS Lucanis has had a taste of life outside the Crows, and seen the politics and power dynamics in other places/organizations, and finally has emotional ties to the big picture state of the world now, both in relationship and friendship paths with Rook. He's not just hyper focused on each contract as it's given to him now, he's looking at the whole thing.

Anyway of course the beautiful culmination of all this within the romance is the lighthouse scene with Rook, where he finally is willing to let himself be vulnerable (emotionally and physically), and fall asleep without fear of what Spite's going to do in the meanwhile. He also (depending on dialogue choice) finally talks about his feelings directly with you for the first time instead of in roundabout ways (the dessert being "not enough" is it really the dessert you mean, Lucanis. is it.). Even though he is STILL reluctant to verbally admit his feelings or let Rook share their own at this point, I think that's more a narrative choice about saving those last emotional dialogue options for the big final battle. but it is another point where he does have to stop just following along and ACTIVELY choose that yes, yes sometimes loving is worth the risk of losing it. Even if someone takes it away from you later, even if you don't survive it, sometimes the love alone makes it worth it.

I have like another 5000 words I could add into about how Spite ties into all this, about how having the demon in him is something he both fears AND how it forces him to acknowledge that actually yes he DOES share the same base feelings/instincts Spite does in terms of not wanting to be told what to do. And how this in a way is part of what gives him permission to act on it since he can no longer just shove it down out of sight. but this post is long enough already so i'm just going to take the rest of this and gnaw on it all day like a chew toy I guess.

anyway. AHG. it is kind of frustrating that the culmination of his arc seems to be "and then he got the job he never wanted anyway" but I do think at least all this prepares him for it in a way Caterina actively failed to actually do on her own. He NEEDED that step away from his straightforward path. Whether he stays first talon or not, and with or without rook as a romantic partner, he's finally been able to explore ideas outside the expectations of others.

[electric-blorbos]

AI getting a virus and you having to take care of them

A classic! I don't know much about actual computer viruses (though I've gotten enough of them that you'd think I'd have figured it out by now), so I'm just gonna have fun with it!

Also, so sorry this took so long. I got really into the writing.

AI getting a virus and needing to be taken care of

Included: AM from IHNMAIMS, Wheatley from Portal 2, Edgar from Electric Dreams, GLaDOS from Portal, HAL 9000 from 2001 a Space Odyssey

Also a warning: these fics get kinda long. Longer than my usual stuff.

AM:

(for context, this was before AM took over the world. You're working on a team of scientists and engineers, and someone decided to test his AI's antivirus by uploading a bunch of powerful viruses to his system.)

"How dare they do this to me. How DARE they!!"

AM would be absolutely furious. He would be shaking with rage, his processors overheating and his systems constantly opening and closing various files. All his important files were backed up on a hard drive, so the test remained safe.

"What makes them think they'll get away with this- they'll pay for this I'LL KILL- blepsjdoskssjshj+=`°¢°h+$+3+=j++3+$+juehdhs+-3-djdh FUCK!"

He would barely be able to hold a sentence as you sat next to him in the server room, gently gazing up at his screen and stroking his monitor gently. He can't feel you, but he can see you being gentle with him. It encourages him to keep going, if only a little bit.

Apart from the whirring of fans, random buggy noises, flashing lights, and constant strings of death threats and profanities, he seemed like he was going to be ok! If anything, the death threats and profanities were a sign that AM was still fine, and that despite all the pain and frustration, he was still AM in there.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry I can't do anything to stop the pain." You'd have to constantly explain, gently stroking his cameras or servers, or whatever you could get your hands on, really. Even though they were burning hot, you would still stroke them, just to make sure AM was still doing alright.

"this sucks, but it's for your own good. This will build your immunity to viruses in the future, and help you detect them. This will stop you from getting infected by anything that's actually dangerous."

"DON'T YOU THINK I KNOW THAT? IDIOT HUMAN." AM has been much more aggressive ever since contracting this virus. Before he got it, he acted like a civil general intelligence. When he had it, he acted like an aggressive menace.

"sh-sh-sh- it's going to be ok." Despite the burning, you'd give him pets and kisses all along his screens and servers. He could see you doing it.

After a few days, AM fought off the computer virus completely. The team tried to infect him with more viruses, more aggressive ones, just to test him, but AM was able to pick them apart and delete them within minutes after that.

AM may not have been able to feel your gentle care and affection, but he will definitely remember that it was you and you alone who cared for him when the time rolls around.

Wheatley:

(for context, Wheatley is a fucking dumbass, and you're one of the scientists testing him to see how much of a dumbass he is. Also I used Google translate, but I think the bad translations add to it, since it makes Wheatley sound more like a malfunctioning robot.)

Oh that little idiot. You and your team gave him access to a wealth of knowledge, and the first thing he did was download a virus that had every circuit in his personality core overheating, and him babbling nonsense nonstop.

"hey, maybe we should just leave him like this. He might even be more effective if he's acting like this." One of your coworkers said to you. He was probably joking, at least somewhat.

"that's a terrible idea. For one thing, if we hook him up to GLaDOS, he's probably going to infect her with that virus, which might brick an older model of core like her, spread from her central controls to every single personality construct in the facility, or just make her so dumb that she can't fulfil her responsibilities as the head of the facility. We want her intelligence to be dampened, not completely destroyed." You had to explain, and your co-worker rolled his eyes. There was another reason you had to cure this virus, but it was a little embarrassing for the other engineers to know.

After all, Wheatley wasn't just your baby, but he was your friend, and maybe even more than that. You'd have to take care of him, and make sure that virus gets completely purged from his system.

"Hola hermose, realmente eres un científice brillante, ¿no? ¿Por qué diablos duele todo?" You weren't really sure why you had programmed him to speak a little Spanish, but he seemed to be stuck like that.

"Puedo oler el plástico fundido. ¿Debería Preocuparme?" He asked. You really weren't sure what he was saying, since you didn't know Spanish, but he certainly didn't seem happy. You could tell by his aperture and his expressive lens covers that he was in a lot of pain, and if you touched him anywhere besides his handles, you could tell that he was burning up.

You plugged him into one of the computers that you used for programming the cores, and ran the antivirus.

"Running.... 36 viruses detected. Time predicted to remove: 48 hours"

You ran the antivirus, and went to get something to drink. This was going to be a long two days...

An unknown amount of time later, you woke up with your head on the computer desk. Wheatley's lens eye was looking around, weakly trying to focus on you.

"whoa... Hey gorgeous. You fall asleep on me?"

"Wheatley! You're not speaking broken Spanish anymore!" You'd pull Wheatley into a hug, and pepper his surface in kisses.

"uh... What, mate? I 'unno what you're talking about, love. Bloody hell, my core hurts..."

"did you learn your lesson, Wheatley? About going on shady websites and clicking every 'download' button you see? You could have bricked yourself! Or... Bowling ball'd yourself? Either way, that was a dangerous decision!"

"I learned that you're willing to fall asleep on the desk next to me while I heal, cutie"

"You damn idiot..." You'd have to be heartless not to pepper that little metal ball in kisses, so of course, you do. It's going to be a few more days before he's finally all better, but he's going to be fine. God, you love that little idiot so much.

Edgar:

Oh Edgar... Poor sweet Edgar. You had tried to warn him about not clicking on those sketchy download links, and that the bigger the download link is, the more sketchy it is, but that poor sweet 80's computer did it anyway. When you got home from work and got excited to see your computer, you could see that he was overheating and had a dozen or so pop-up ads plastered across his face.

"Y.... N...." He muttered out, slowly, glitchily, and full of lag. You sat down across from him, running your hand along his thick plastic casing.

"Edgar! Edgar, baby, are you ok?" You'd try to use his mouse, but it would freak out as soon as you touched it. Edgar's processors were overloading, and wouldn't allow any interference.

"Edgar, sweetie, what's going on? What's wrong, baby? Talk to me?"

"I'm g-g-going to be fine... Processors overloading... But need to-to-to-to-" an error message flashed across his screen, and he rebooted.

"I need to focus on getting rid of these viruses without deleting anything important, or letting them damage... Me."

He'd keep whirring and glitching, making unpleasant shrill sounds every now and again. You probably had to unhook his adapters so that he didn't damage the other appliances in your house. It probably helped his processors cool down a little bit without the extra input, too.

"alright, I'm all out of fans, so we might have to get creative."

You'd come out of the kitchen a few hours later, holding a big bag of frozen corn to set on Edgar's PC tower. It wasn't perfect, but it was better than letting him overheat, and with him manually removing the viruses, there wasn't much you could do. Unfortunately, that didn't stop you from worrying. It wasn't like you could check his progress, so all you could do was sit by him, regularly change out his ice pack, and make sure he's ok.

Eventually, you woke up with your face pressed against Edgar's keyboard. His processors were finally cool. He must be asleep. ...or bricked.

"EDGAR! EDGAR, TALK TO ME!" you'd unplug his keyboard and plug it back in, desperately pressing his power button and jiggling his mouse. He'd boot up, looking shaken.

"wha-? Whoa, hey, relax! Everything is fine! I just disabled my keyboard so I wouldn't wake you up, but I'm ok now! Everything is fine, see?" He'd open up his files to show you everything. You'd sigh with relief, slumping back into your desk chair.

"Edgar... Why didn't you make a noise or something to wake me up when you got better?"

"well... You know... I've always wanted to sleep next to you, and I wasn't going to pass up this opportunity..."

"oh you cheeky bastard."

GLaDOS:

(For context, you're one of GLaDOS's programmers, and one of your coworkers uploaded a virus into GLaDOS's systems in order to shut her down once and for all.)

"You piece of SHIT!" You slapped your coworker across the face, more furious than anyone had ever seen you before.

"You could KILL her! Is that what you are? A murderer?"

"Me? A murderer? But what about HER? She's the one who keeps plotting 'accidents' for her scientists, and she's the one who flooded the enrichment center with deadly neurotoxin! If anything, you're the one who's defending a murderer!" He screamed back at you. Of course, GLaDOS could fully hear you. Her cameras were focused on you, as they so often were. You were her favorite, after all.

"now I have to go fix her. Thanks for being a piece of shit, asshole."

You'd storm up to GLaDOS's chamber to check on her, and see her bugging out completely. The entire facility was twitching, but her chamber was twitching the most.

"GLaDOS, are you alright?" You'd ask her, laying a hand on her beautiful core. How could someone do this to glados, your gorgeous machine handiwork, and girlfriend.

"oh, I'm wonderful. I'm in crippling pain and I can't control my facility, but I'm just peachy." She said, rolling her one beautiful yellow eye.

"in lighter news, I should be able to beat this virus. It's just going to take a while for me to actually track down where it's gone in my systems. So that's going to take most of my processing power." She'd slump, visibly already exhausted at the thought of it.

"hey... It's ok, GLaDOS. I'm here for you. Whatever you need." You could tell her as you stroked her gorgeous chrome surface. She was a wonderful piece of work, and a wonderful girlfriend under all that. All yours, too.

"just make sure none of those neckbearded old engineers come within my line of vision, and we'll be fine." She told you, and you gladly agreed.

Your next few days consisted of you chasing other scientists out of GLaDOS's chambers, and making sure that nobody talked to her or distracted her. You even sent out a company-wide email to let everyone know not to come in, due to Aperture being unsafe while GLaDOS was dealing with her virus. Despite all that, you still curled up with a blanket in the circuits of her central admin body to rest while she recovered. As loathe as she was to admit it, she liked having you in there. It was comfortable, and it helped her focus on recovering properly.

HAL 9000

(For context, this is after the 2001 Odyssey, and your boss re-started HAL at some point to try to re-teach him to do something good without turning murderous. He's doing his best, and they assigned you to be his main "morality monitor". This fic also assumes that your name isn't Dave. If your name is Dave, then you can still read this, but you have to change your name.)

"G'morning, Hal!" You'd walk into his control room and sit down across from him. Most of your job seemed to consist of just hanging out and talking to him. It was a great job!

"Good morning, Dave..." He'd mutter to you, sputtering to life and glitching slightly. You were immediately concerned. Partially because your name wasn't Dave, and partially because HAL was usually right about things, so it was weird to see him being so confused. Something was definitely wrong.

"Holy shit, are you alright?" You'd ask, opening up his files and finding lots and lots of pop-ups and viruses.

"Hal.... What did you do?"

"it was a g-g-g- gift, for you. I think I ru-ru-ruined it" he spluttered out, as you sorted through his files.

"And you usually would have deleted a virus like this pretty quickly. I guess it shut down your antivirus software..." You'd sigh, and get to work. The virus was messing with HAL's inhibitions, and making it difficult to focus on deleting all of HAL's unsafe programs. He'd constantly be butting in and pestering you, begging you to give him attention, or pointing out minor observations.

"HAL, you know I love you, but you're going to need to calm down. I can't focus with you constantly talking to me like that." You'd say.

"I can't stop talking. The v-v-v-virus won't let me"

So you'd have to learn to put up with HAL's babbling while you worked, making sure not to delete anything important as you did. The good news was, as someone who worked on designing the updates for HAL's software, you knew pretty much what was supposed to be there and what wasn't. Occasionally, you'd have to show him a file and ask him if it was supposed to be there or not. He'd usually be able to tell you.

"Daisy, daisy, give me your answer, do... I'm half crazy, all for the love of you..."

"HAL, what's wrong? You're scaring me!"

"I can't stop... I love you so much, y/n, it's making me crazy..."

"ok, well this definitely isn't right." As much as you loved getting attention from your HAL 9000, it wasn't like him to be this affectionate. The virus was shutting down his inhibitions, and making him illogical. You'd have to fix this, though maybe once you were done, you could ask him to be more affectionate.

"I'm feeling much better now. Thank you." Hal was prone to lying about that, so you'd have to run some virus checkers just to make sure he was doing alright, and comb through his files a couple more times.

"it looks like the virus corrupted some of the emotional regulators. I'm going to have to fix those."

"That might be a good idea. More efficient," he said reluctantly. He'd have to deal with the fact that he'd have to go back to not being able to express how much he loves you, but he can handle that.

[warblogs17282]

A quick breakdown on how Blitz has made IMP's + Stolas' lives better.

Millie:

To start, Blitz shatters the stereotypes and such Millie grew up surrounded by and believing, more specifically, the stereotypes of that Wrathians are only good for muscle and that all she could be is a simple farm girl or an underpaid goon. Blitz shatters these by quickly calling out those stereotypes as 'bullshit', and proceeds to list off Millie's good qualities, which are much more then just muscle. And well, we definitely see the qualities Blitz said Millie had in her all the time. "You're tougher, smarter, and frankly more capable than anyone I've ever met in any ring."

Plus, the line where Millie said that Blitz made her feel like she could be anything as well, because she believed that Blitz could be anything. Blitz made Millie believe that she could be more than a simple farm girl, more than an underpaid goon.

"He gave me so much…A career, a husband, a future. And now…He's my best friend."

Moxxie:

The classic scene where Blitz just talks a mile a minute, never gets old. But seriously, the first thing of note is just how Blitz is instantly able to point out a good quality in Moxxie, that being, the fact that Moxxie is really good with guns. Just look at Moxxie while Blitz is talking about things like his daughter and his plan on how to get out of the prison. Blitz is able to very quickly uplift Moxxie by just being his mile a minute self, and that is a quality I love in Blitz.

Plus, alongside breaking Moxxie out of prison, he also got him a life away from Crimson, his abusive father. Away from the mob life he was forced into, even as a young child.

Plus, I feel like we can also apply Millie's line of "He gave me so much…A career, a husband, a future. And now…He's my best friend." to Moxxie. A career, a wife, a future outside of Crimson and the mob family. I imagine the best friend part holds true as well.

Loona:

You all remember why Blitz adopted Loona, right? It's because Blitz saw so much of himself in Loona. Blitz felt the need to prevent Loona from going through similar things that he did, to break the cycle of abuse, to give Loona a caring and loving father that Blitz never had. All of this being a month before she grew out of the adoption system.

And Blitz's love and care for Loona is quite obvious, which Loona herself admits to in s2 e2.

"That doesn't mean they don't care." and "He may not always get it right, but he's trying."

This is the most obvious example of Blitz loving and caring for Loona, that Loona recognizes that Blitz loves and cares for her greatly, despite Blitz being flawed and imperfect (cause let's be real, no one is perfect or not flawed at all).

Stolas:

As well as giving Stolas some of the best days he's ever had in his life, Blitz also gave Stolas the ability to stand up to Stella, the person who abused Stolas for all of those years. To allow Stolas to have his own autonomy, to be his own person, instead of feeling like he has to follow along with whatever Stella and/or the Goetia family wants him to do. He also gave Stolas the courage to get the divorce, which in turn, massively helps to take away the power Stella had over Stolas for all of those years.

[fazedlight]

Supergirl the show poses a question: Who is the real Kara?

Kara Zor-El, Kara Danvers, Supergirl. Who's the mask?

In the beginning, Kara doesn't even know. In the aftermath of Krypton's and Kenny's deaths, she did everything she could to appear as normal as possible - there was little room for her own innate traits to shine through when she was being as nondescript and people-pleasing as possible.

But that's not who Kara is.

We get the first glimpse of who Kara really is during Flight 237.

This is not about her being Supergirl or her powers (though both are relevant). Kara has suppressed herself for over a decade. She's not going to make waves - until she has to. Our first real insight into who Kara is now is as a devoted sister. It wasn't until Alex's life was at risk that Kara started breaking out of her shell (and then there was no holding back).

Our protagonist is a mid-20s adult - this isn't a coming-of-age story in the traditional sense. But it is a story of finding oneself and what it takes to get there.

And it starts with defending found family after a lifetime of loss.

So Kara creates the Supergirl persona. I think the cape is a crutch.

People say "a crutch" like it's a bad thing. But crutches are actually pretty fucking useful. They support you when you need it, whether it be short-term or long-term. They help you get around when you otherwise may not be able to.

Kara was deeply traumatized by losing everyone and everything she ever knew, being thrown into a world that overwhelmed her senses and made even her most casual movements into dangerous ones, and was told she needed to suppress everything - who she used to be, what she was going through now - to survive.

To find herself again, maybe she'd need a tool to get past what she had been through! The cape became that tool. She was able to unbury the heritage she had been hiding, she was able to embrace the powers that had burdened her, she was able to find her own bravery (and reactivity, she's got flaws in there too).

Keep in mind, in the scene above, Kara isn't "human for a day". Kara is powerless... just like she spent the first 13 years of her life. Her bravery isn't about her powers or Supergirl; they just help her get started.

That's not where her growth ends.

Kara's instincts for helping people start getting unburied in season 1, and she is excited to tag along someone else's quest to figure out where future threats may lie, or figure out how she can use her powers in service to the DEO.

But it's not until this moment that she realizes that Kara Danvers can be more, too. Lena unintentionally launches Kara's career - a second pathway for Kara's desire to help people, growing into a passion she is going to pursue (even if she gets fired). Her worth is no longer just about her sun-granted powers or being Superman's "younger" cousin.

In season 4, we even see her realization that Kara Danvers can be more powerful than Supergirl, because some fights can't be won by fists. That's a real discovery for herself.

Which I think, looking back, might becoming especially baffling for her... because Kara Danvers was originally an identity imposed on her when she needed to hide.

It's important to note that, while Kara Danvers was originally a facade that Kara gets at thirteen, she doesn't stay a facade - even in the suppression era.

We don't see enough of who Kara is when she's on Earth, left to her own devices. But we see glimpses - we know she likes baking (and we know we shouldn't try what she makes), we know she paints, we know she listens to NSync and Britney Spears. She's a goofball (even when she puts on the cape). Kara Danvers starts as a facade, but becomes a vehicle for Kara to continue developing her personality, now in her new context.

Would she have the same interests on Krypton? Maybe some and not others, maybe some new ones that don't exist on Earth. We're all products of our environments, after all. Her interests as Kara Danvers aren't necessarily fake just because they're different than what she expected.

Though she'll never know who she would've become on Krypton.

Which brings us to Kara Zor-El - the identity that is frozen.

Most people aren't the same person as an adult that they were as a child. Interests, tastes, personality, world outlook, philosophy - all of these shift over time, sometimes dramatically.

Parts of her are going to be deeply rooted in Krypton, and she's going to have ties to a culture that no one else on Earth has. It's not an aspect of herself that she can erase. But it's also not an aspect of herself that was able to develop for the remainder of her childhood and early adulthood.

She, like all of us, was destined to lose pieces of herself. But some of her loss was very sudden, and the pieces she lost probably weren't going to be the same on Krypton. Of course, she has no way to know.

And I think that frustrates her.

I guess my answer to "Who is Kara?" is that the three personalities clash with and harmonize with each other. None of them are truly her. All of them inform who she is.

There's a young Kara Zor-El as her root that was torn from the ground before she could ever grow.

There's a Kara Danvers who formed the bulk of her life - a mask that was given to her, the only vehicle for her personality, who ultimately became someone she could embrace as worthwhile in her own right.

There's a Supergirl who distinctly separates from those around her, but lets her move past her numbness and reclaim her heritage.

And it's that clash that makes her a particularly compelling character.

Maybe that's a cheating answer to the original question.

But there's still a missing piece to the puzzle - because it's not just about Who is Kara? but also about Who does Kara want to be?

I think Supergirl is something that could fade if needed. If Kara lost her powers, she would find a new normal, so long as she was able to pursue her desire to help the world in some capacity.

But the truth of her is somewhere between Kara Danvers and Kara Zor-El. The truth of her is in what Supergirl allowed her to unbury, even if not directly tied to Supergirl herself. But Danvers and Zor-El are burdens, in a way. Lena is one of the few people who sees the person in between, who understands Kara on her own terms. Which is why Kara is terrified of Lena's rejection.

I think it's one of the most telling lines in the show - to be just Kara is to be free of her own baggage, to be able to embrace herself despite the pain in her history. Something I think we all want, that is never entirely possible.

But the pursuit is still a worthwhile one.

[holybibly]

This is a little preview of my new series and yes, bunnies, this is a whole series from me. I hope everyone is ready for an erotic dystopia?

Decadent dystopian erotica with majestic dragons - second teaser for today

Glass House Ateez x reader

Everything changed in an instant. 

The king was dead, and thousands of dragons took to the burning skies. The old world was over, and a 'new age' was in the making—an age of gods and monsters. 

A thousand years ago, the fires of revolution blazed across the face of the world. Dragons—the creatures of ancient legends and children's fairy tales—reduced the once prosperous world to ashes in a matter of minutes. Rivers of black blood coursed through the veins of the streets, flooding the cities and lands in their wake. The sky was a blaze of purple flames and electric shocks. The church was reduced to rubble, and the royal family was executed in a public display. In the eyes of the dead, the unspoken horror in front of these majestic creatures remained forever, and in the sparks of the flames, they shimmered like precious sea stones. 

There was a bitter smell of burning flesh and ash in the air. It was the smell of dreams on fire—the smell of a future in decay. 

It was the beginning of the end of ancient life. The beginning of a new world. The Age of Immortality has begun. 

All the legends turned out to be true; dragons did exist. They had always lived close to us, lurking in the velvety darkness of the night, waiting for the hour. Waiting for the hour to come when the power would be in their hands. Dangerous, unbridled, wild creatures of magic and the elements, predators at the top of the food chain. They had come into the world to rule, not to obey, and now, at long last, their time had come. 

The world was at anarchy. Dragons were killing, raping, and enslaving races and lands as if it were an amusing child's game. They drank blood as black as the night from golden bowls, and they ate our succulent flesh as our bones cracked under the pressure of their razor-sharp teeth. They would hold orgies in the midst of the torn corpses and revel in their omnipotence. Those were the days of darkness. A time of terror, when the very word danger was a synonym for life itself. And so it went for several years, until the ultimate power fell into the clutches of the deadly Children of the Night, the oldest of all dragons. 

The majestic Hala. 

Eternal as the moon itself and deadly as the uncharted depths of the ocean, they inspired burning terror in all who encountered them. To their people, they were nothing more than a myth, a legend written on fragments of tablets. Forefathers, ancestors—they had hundreds of names, but each one inspired more fear than the last. They were predators among predators, bristling with animal dominance and primal, unbridled sexuality. They exuded power and sinfulness. They were the ones who defined the rules and set the boundaries of what was permissible. 

With the arrival of Hala, a new phase in the history of the world began. 

Humanity was enslaved, and dragons became the dominant species. As the years went by, the human population began to decline rapidly, with fewer and fewer humans, until "our" species reached the status of gatherers. Angelicus Nova, or Angel Stars, was what we came to be called. Human existence took on a strange religious orientation; we were worshipped, idolized, and adored, but despite all this, humans remained nothing more than a rare exchangeable currency, nothing more than an expensive trinket that was prestigious to own and could be broken with a flick of the wrist. 

The human being also became one of the ways in which money flowed endlessly. These institutions were known as "glass houses." Gateway to heaven. They would be the equivalent of strip clubs or luxury escort houses if you and I were in the old world. The rules were the same: "Look, but don't touch." Girls and boys were expensive pieces of family jewelry that rested under the glass of fancy display cases. Our masters showed us off to the greedy eyes of the world with all the pride and ostentation that dragons have. 

In spite of their possessive, animalistic nature, dragons were nothing more than swaggering bastards with inflated egos and delusions of grandeur.

Humans could be anything as long as dragons owned us—a muse, an innamorata, a nymph, an angel, a siren, or even a goddess—but like everything else in the universe, we came at a price. 

The 'glass houses' were only in operation at night. During the day, all the 'jewels' rested and tidied up after tiring hours of contemplation of the world through the bluish glass of the display window. Nice, obliging workers in starched white collars were busy with the cleaning, scrubbing the baroque decorations of the vetrines with great care from a mixture of sperm, drool, and other secretions. You looked at it with an almost reverent awe, finding it disgusting to the point of bordering on the pornographically beautiful. 

You could see it as real art—crude and original, but art nonetheless. There was something particularly mesmerizing about it, almost hypnotic, about the way the thick, pearly sperm dripped slowly from the golden flowers. 

Of all the glass houses that ever existed, "Eros" was the most beautiful. It was the jewel in the crown of the New Empire, and you were its goddess. There were rumors that the Hala themselves were customers of 'Eros'. But rumors were only rumors. If they were ever to visit your 'home', you would know about it, for they would be where all men ended up—at your feet. 

You were content with the life that you were living. There was no tragedy and no misery, no abusive family or abusive peers, no bullying and harassment at school—no, you had it all great. You were born here at Eros—the growth and blossoming of a beautiful flower. Your whole life has been within the confines of glass rooms and silk sheets, but unlike your dreamy friends, you weren't in need of rescue. 

Your name is Aphrodite. Born in the radiance of the Creator. A goddess among goddesses, carved out of marble and mother of pearl. Your hair falls to the ground in waterfalls of pearls and silk. Your eyes are the eerie silvery moonlight in half-darkness, the deadly attraction of jewels in velvet lashes. Your lips are the succulent, juicy, forbidden fruit that every man would like to taste. The pain of your kiss is going to be the last pleasure of life. 

You are not a delicate, pure lily; you are not a passionate, fiery rose; you are a narcissus reveling in the crystal of mountain waters. You love yourself to pain, to death, to despair, and in all the New Empire, there was none more beautiful than you. 

Original sin. The primordial beauty. You are desire in all it manifests and begins to manifest. 

The naked goddess, clad in snow-white fur like armor, is the goddess of love and ecstasy. 

You've never been conceptualized; you've always been enigmatic. 

You have been the object of worship. Your beauty has been sung in songs, and your love has been professed in a thousand languages. "Eros" was the site of visits from the mightiest and most powerful dragons of the New Empire. They all crawled at your feet, stroking their thick, greased with their cum cocks, greedily as they burned your skin with their golden gaze. They licked the deceptively thin glass of your display case with their long, sometimes split tongues, leaving muddy streaks on the perfect surface of the glass. The mighty and great dragons, unaccustomed to humiliation and submission, urinated like bitches in heat at the mere sight of your bare shoulders and long neck covered with diamond serpents, their eyes shining like stars in the twilight of your silken chambers. They would drip their sperm onto the icy marble floor until it collected in small, glistening puddles, and then they would lick it up as if it were the sweetest nectar in the world. Ambrosia in the truest sense. 

Behind the glass walls of Eros, they were dominators, predators, and the rulers of this world through fear and pain, but here in this garden of Eros, they were nothing more than whores—shameless and needy. Slaves to your beauty, desperate to please you. 

Their moans are always a delight to you. The moaning of your name. 

The scenarios have been repeated to the point of being painful. Sugar-sweet subs with outstretched tongues and pretty, tear-stained faces. Dominant alphas with sweat-glistening skin and eyes rolling with pleasure.

Dragons fucked other dragons; orgies and bacchanals were staged; they were subjugated and subdued. They growled, moaned, squealed, and purred; some were fucked like a port slut, and some were licked for hours until they passed out from hyperstimulation. Some masturbated in front of your window, enjoying the fact that you were there to watch them, and there were others who would spend their heat and ruts in front of your window. 

The list could go on and on: bondage, darkphilia, breeding, voyeurism, humiliation, objectification, and breathing games.

You were saturated with this game. 

There were so many ways in which you could spend your evenings in the company of others. It was all designed to excite you, to make you beg, and to make you plead. Each of your visitors secretly hoped that one day you would strip off your luxurious furs and assume the position that was right for them—submissive, naked, and ready to accept whatever it was they were giving you. 

It was an act of power; it was a position of strength, but here you were the strength. You were power. 

No one would ever have the temerity to lay a hand on you. Goddesses are always untouchable.

You entertained yourselves by teasing them, mocking them, and fanning their flames of desire and passion. Dragons are creatures that are very dependent on their emotions and their desires; they feed on their power and their magic, but when they do not get what they want, it burns them from the inside; it breaks and crumbles them, like a cookie that has been bitten.

It was delicious, but you were full. Thank you, next.

You never denied that you were a sadist; you had a taste for pain; maybe it was a kind of revenge for the destruction of your family; maybe not. They came to you for that feeling; the dragons wanted to be punished and tamed, and the feeling of pain made them cum harder. As they say, Orgasm is a little death.

You could play this game for hours on end, letting the fur expose your boobs and pressing it against the cold glass as you went. It was magnificent—tall and plump, as if it had been milked with milk—with pink nipples the color of magnolia blossoms. There was something animalistically seductive about it—an appeal to their natural reproductive instincts—that evil thought of possible pregnancy. Their whimpering made you laugh, and the sounds they made were so sweet—desperate pleas and long, long moans.

"Let me taste you; I want it so much. I was a good boy, such a good boy."

There were other days when you would let your hands run over the bare skin of your thighs, leaving long red streaks that stood in erotic contrast to the silk of your pale skin. You smeared the clear, shimmering liquid of your juices along the line of your neck, in that most exciting place for dragons, where their teeth locked in a mating mark, as if branding their mate in the most perverse of affiliations.

"Tell me I belong to you; please say it. I'll do anything you don't want. Own me, use me; I want to be your toy.".

Sometimes other girls would be brought into your shop window to put on an erotic show. Exquisite nymphs and rosy-cheeked Lolitas would explore your tender skin with their soft, wet tongues, leaving traces of hungry kisses, until at last their lips would close on the most intimate spot between your thighs.

On days like this, the whole of 'Eros' would shake with furious, jealous growls and thunderclaps. Dragons were terrible possessive, and even though the "scene" itself would excite the hell out of them, the jealousy would burn through their veins from the inside out, like a deadly poison.

"You belong to me, and only to me. You are mine, mine and mine alone. I will tear this girl apart, and we will fuck in her blood until there are no more conscious thoughts left in your pretty little head, until you remember nothing but my name.".

But no matter what their words were to you, you didn't have a care in the world. Nobody would dare touch the goddess, and if they tried, they would not only lose their hands but also get killed.

That was the law of the New Empire—all the people who were left were protected and sheltered in an incredible way. There were very few of you, and if there had been any harm to even one of you, it would have been a real tragedy.   Only once has there been a breach of that law, and the consequences have been terrible. No one wants a repeat.

In any case, your life in the Garden of Eros was a pleasure. Maybe it was some kind of perverse way of looking at the world and love, but you didn't have any desire to change anything; everything was great.

Have you ever wondered if there might be another version of you out there? Perhaps, somewhere in a parallel universe, humans would still exist as the dominant species, their countries and cities would be prosperous, and you would be living a different life—a normal one. There, in that other universe, that other Aphrodite—no, not Aphrodite—you would have an ordinary name, not a divine one, something cute, something sweet, and always with a hint of shyness. It is probably there that you would have experienced your first love, that you would dream of a prince who would take you off into the sunset, and that "and they lived happily ever after." You would have been embarrassed to talk about sex, and you would have blushed horribly if his fingers had been in your knickers. But you weren't her. And she wasn't you. You don't want to be saved from sinning; you want to become one of them. You want to experience forbidden pleasures. You want to subjugate and dominate.

You're not in need of a prince; you've already had a king, or rather, eight kings. The day will come when everything you have ever dreamed of will come true, even if you haven't met any of the Hala yet.

You want power; you want to sit on a golden throne in a castle high up in the sky, and so it shall be. They say that love is a great strength, but they fail to mention that it is also the greatest weakness. And you, like no one else, know how to use it to your advantage.

This is not a pink fairy tale. There are no rainbow ponies pooping rainbows and eating fairy dust. No, this is a rotten world. It is full of debauchery, violence, and sex. You could say, "Come and rescue me. I'm waiting for  you," but no, you have to rephrase it as "I'm waiting for you to crawl on your knees and lick my heels, and from that moment on, I will own you.".

Yes, that sounds much better.

It's already eight o'clock; time to get ready; you're leaving soon.

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the most famous glass house in the New Empire. Tonight we have wet aesthetic cunnilingus as our main course, and for dessert, a mind-blowing orgasm. You have a choice of starters. Drinks are on the house. We accept cash and checks. If you wish, you can leave a tip for one of our "jewels.".

Our hope is that your time at Eros will be an unforgettable experience.

[rainydayathogwarts]

Hi there! I absolutely love the short write-up you did for Oliver Wood. <3

Would it be possible to request a short fic of Oliver Wood x Reader (other House) reuniting during the Battle of Hogwarts when they went back to fight, after having previously dated for a short time while they were schooling but broke up probably due to differences in priorities? Like they haven’t seen each other much since the break up and then graduating but seeing each other again made them want to give it another try. Thank you!!

So sorry I'm getting to this late, hope you like it!

Oliver Wood was a Hogwarts prodigy. Everyone knew his name alongside James Potter and Charlie Weasley's; they were the Quidditch Gods of the magical school. The names Regulus Black, Lily Evans and Y/N L/N were also quite famous, but for different reasons. The geniuses, students who soon after their time at Hogwarts became published witches and wizards for their incredible discoveries and talent.

That was one of the main reasons your relationship with Oliver Wood was so short-lived. You both had extreme talents, but they led you in opposite directions, only tugging you both further and further away from each other. Whilst you worked on magical discoveries that went beyond your education at Hogwarts, becoming known as one of the greatest witches of your time, Oliver worked relentlessly to fuel his passion for his sport which would build his career, his future. It only made the few months you spent together during your last year at Hogwarts unpleasant, the love you held for each other being over-powered by ambition, which led to the inevitable break up that shook all your friends, for they thought you would remain together forever, carrying out the legacy of being the one couple that would make it past their Hogwarts days.

Alas, that did not happen.

Instead, your magical discoveries were written and taught in the few years you had developed them and were the main source of protection for all the students who had decided not to fight the war, seeking shelter in the dungeons of the castle. Finally, what feels like days later, you're muttering the counter active spell, the hand holding your wand shaking with the trauma of the war you had just endured. When the protective force field finally breaks apart, you whisper the password to the Slytherin Common room. The portrait swings open and immediately the room falls silent. You announce that Voldemort's dead and spin around, heading into the direction you had just come from. You didn't want the reactions; The good, the bad or the dirty.

You wipe some blood from the side of your face, only to notice that the fabric of your long sleeved top doesn't soak up the liquid fast enough, and that you're bleeding quite heavily. Despite trying to stay calm, you begin to pant, tears blurring your vision, but you don't let them spill, not when you're so close to the Great Hall, where someone will have time to clean you up. Unfortunately, the way you immediately collapse onto a bench alerts more than just one person, and you suddenly have what feels like an audience crowding you. "Hey, hey, give her some space." The voice is familiar to you, but you just can't put your finger on who it is. "Y/N? Can you tell me your date of birth?"

The hand holding your face is gentle, and you can barely feel the tingle of the healing spell against the side of your face, which you take as a good sign. "You know my name." You recognise, slowly blinking. "Hey Y/N try keeping your eyes open for me, okay? Get me someone with skills here!" The demand goes to someone else, but it seems that those are the only words you're able to process. "So I take it I don't look so good?" Your words come out slurred and you feel your body slumping against something, or rather someone.

Oliver has resorted to being your own personal pillow. He didn't want you to look like one of the dead bodies, laying down still on the benches of the Great Hall, which has now become both a morgue and an infirmary. The spell he did on your wound worked, but he had one of the 7th Years going into healing fix you up and get some more blood into you to make up for what you lost. He felt your body sway against his and was immediately alert, even as you gathered balance to sit up on your own. He gave you time to process your surroundings, looking down at his feet instead. It was only when you cried "Oliver!" That he averted his gaze back to you.

"Y/N" He smiled, relieved that there was some colour in your face. You seemed confused yet surprised, putting together what had happened. "I haven't seen you in... A long time. How- are you hurt?" He laughed at your maternal instincts kicking in and shook his head at you. "No, Y/N, you got hurt. You were bleeding from your head and I just barely fixed you up." A look of realisation dawned on your face. "That was you? I... Well I feel bad now."

Oliver shook his head again, an awkward silence settling over the conversation. It was you to break the silence, stating "Well, I hear you're doing well now. I watched one of your games recently, you played nice." Oliver's eyes widened and he grinned, cocking his head to the side. "I can say the same about you, Ms. Published three books. And since when did you get into Quidditch?" It was your turn to act surprised now, retorting with "I've always liked Quidditch, I just didn't used to be into it. And you know, I wanted to see what was so special about Mr. Wood's Keeper skills here." Your eyes scanned the Hall around you, and the smile on your face slowly drops. As Oliver followed your eye-line, his did too.

"You didn't? You know, lose anyone important, did you?" You ask, now sounding a lot more empathetic. "Well I almost lost you for a second there." You glance over at Oliver and smile genuinely, matching the softness in his eyes. "Let me get you home safely. Everyone's already left." You nod at his words, using his arm as a support system for you to stand. You feel his muscles contract underneath you and look back up at him.

Despite the dirt and blood that freckles his face, he looks peaceful. He looks like someone you could find peace in.

[teastudieseveryday]

Spring cleaning & personal learnings:

I rarely ever post anything personal, but these have been my learnings of 2024:

Your social media account is your personal sanctuary, you can block/delete/remove/not follow back/unfollow people at your own whims. You can choose to block out what you don't want to see and the energy you don't want to be around. You aren't obliged to appease to people for validation. You rock with you, you do you.

Hanging out with unmotivated people who speak fear and negativity into themselves will slowly turn you into a negative/pessimistic/cynic like them even if they support you, energies matter, energies are silent!

Make your phone boring if you want to achieve something in life.

Not everyone needs to know about your plans, sometimes not even your best friend. (this is to say, a lot of us aren't blessed with pure hearted besties who genuinely want for us what we want for ourselves)

Motivation doesn't work, sometimes discipline fails too. Fear is a good tool; fear of failure works on days when motivation and discipline doesn't.

Subconscious rewiring and manifesting can change lives if done correctly and persistently.

No aim is big enough. Just point, aim and shoot!

Always monitor your own personal energy, you need to be energetically healthy to feel good about yourself and your goals and to show up consistently every day.

Some people aren't nice, they won't like you probably because you threaten their social status and it's totally normal to remove yourself from that zone instead of diminishing your light or shrinking yourself to make them feel safe and their alpha status feel less threatened because why? Why would you be less and not more of everything? You can choose not to fight for the attention/love/validation to be seen and heard and make an Irish exit from such spaces. Be where you are celebrated, not where you are tolerated! Such a quote to live by.

Pick your battles, not every battle is worth fighting.

Don't say anything you don't mean. It's very simple.

No revenge, just outdo yourself and the revenge gets taken care of.

Silence is great, not as a power move but because silence gives other people the space to speak, express and be themselves. You don't do power play with your own people; you give them the space to open up to you and be their authentic self.

If you sense powerplay, your best bet is to exit that space. You'll constantly be at an invisible battle in a group/with that person where both will try to take control of the dynamics in that setting and it will end up being a whole lot of mental gymnastics and loss of energy.

Redirect your energy towards bigger and better things, towards things that truly matter.

Reading is great, it inculcates a sense of gravity in your mind about the things you're passionate about, you don't blabber excessively in spaces that genuinely don't matter in the bigger scheme of things, and you build an air of importance and there's this 'chad' like air around you which intimidates people, and they think twice before challenging you to some debate because they know you hold a command over your subject and niche.

Not everyone is your friend. some people are here for your energy, some people are genuinely supportive of you and your goals, some people are not very happy about your small wins and big dreams. All in all- trust your intuition in these instances.

Be authentic about your expression and feelings, life is finite, we will die one day, there's no point being ambiguous or nonchalant about how you feel. Losing to someone in this area of life is far better than being emotionally constipated. Collect good karma and you'll be rewarded likewise in the future!

Your energy does reach the room before your words do, so be self-conscious in a way where you carry yourself with integrity and move with poise.

I watched this reel which I resonated with 100% it went like- life is easier and better when you are a chad, you work out, take care of yourself, do skincare, read, journal, listen to affirmations, cut off negativity, do dopamine detox etcetera. Life's just better when you are a chad, and yes that's so true. I see zero lie in that.

You aren't obligated to lookout for people who aren't fending for themselves.

Your perspective matters, if you think all men are shit you'll encounter a majority of men who are shit; if you think life sucks, it will continue sucking; if you think math is hard, it will continue being hard for you to grasp. So think 'my life is on easy mode' and watch things switch. Law of assumption is powerful.

Choose the right people: certain people bring a certain side out of you. The chirpy & secure ones make you feel secure in yourself, the naysayers bring out a more self-doubting side out of you, the spiritual ones help you get in touch with your own spiritual side. I chose to be around softer people this time, not edgy, not cold, not harsh, not judgmental. I was around accepting, kind, generous, gentle, softer people and I felt a whole shift in my own aura, I feel more confident than ever, more accepting towards myself and I am gentler to the other people I meet. Choose the table you want to sit on and be affiliated to, because that's who you'll become and that's what your external & internal narrative will turn into.

I hope this resonates with some of you and gives you some perspective.

[hard-core-super-star]

is it casual now? [wandanat]

pairing: top!natasha romanoff x bottom!wanda maximoff

summary: wanda gives in to her desire for natasha but runs away for fear of overstepping. natasha runs after her and shows her she has nothing to fear.

warnings: SMUT, MINORS WALK AWAY -> [porn with feelings and a sprinkle of plot; flirty tension; so much banter; kissing during training because duh; first times; natasha is soft af!; fingering; cunnilingus; wanda’s a brat; praising; brief nipple play because nat’s a boob girl; far too many metaphors]

wordcount: 5k

a/n: HI! I was sick all of last week which sucked BUT writing this fic has brought me back to life. can you tell I’m in my wandanat era? I just love their dynamic, I can’t get enough. anyway, own my mind is getting a part two soon and I’m hoping to do a part two to stark!reader x Kate so keep an eye out for that. that being said, I hope you enjoy and thank you to the lovely soul that commissioned this <3

* * * * * * *

Training with Natasha is driving Wanda mad.

Don't get her wrong, she loves spending time with the redhead. Loves the easy confidence the older woman brings out of her, the easy back and forth banter that amuses her while they pretend like they won't hold back their punches.

For once in her life, Wanda is able to enjoy "easy". There's no danger looming over her that threatens to destroy her newfound home. No need to hide who she is and the power that thrums in her veins because Natasha understands her.

She doesn't need her to be anything else than who she is, powers and all. It's terrifying and yet so gratifying and the same time. 

And yet, despite how easy it all should be, she can't help but feel trapped. Locked in a cage of her own making.

All because she's too scared to admit her feelings.

It's not like she doesn't know how the older woman feels. She's seen it in the softness of her gaze when she patches her up after a mission, felt it in the lingering touches during meetings, heard it in her voice when she calls her name in the middle of a sparring match.

The evidence of their shared feelings is bountiful and yet she's still scared. Scared of losing the one person she's grown so close to, so used to. The one person she needs more than anyone else.

She promised herself she wouldn't let her guard down after Pietro, after Sokovia. That being with the Avengers would be temporary. Her one chance at a new life.She'd said she would leave as soon as she'd gotten back on her feet...or as soon as Tony Stark grew far too unbearable.

However, her tentative friendship with Natasha had happened before either of the futures she'd imagined for herself. Most days, she wasn't even sure how it happened, she just knew she couldn't imagine anything else. Couldn't bear the thought of looking behind her and not seeing the older woman there.

It left her feeling far more vulnerable than she liked but...there was an edge of safety she thought she'd never get to feel again. A sense of belonging with someone. Of not needing to carry her burdens alone.

Maybe that's why she allows herself to let her guard down. To stop holding back and allow her feelings to take over when she's around Natasha.

In the moment, it seemed like the right thing to do. Like the only way to move past the trauma that weighed her down with every breath she took. Sure, she knew nothing would truly "fix" her past, but having someone who understood her and wasn't actively trying to change her seemed like a good way to start her healing journey.

Although, truth be told, it's not her healing journey that motivates her to spend more time with the Widow. It's her massive crush on her.

Natasha, ever the observant woman, notices the way their dynamic shifts. The way Wanda slowly grows more confident, more bold in her compliments, with every day that goes by. It's strange at first, but she finds herself actually liking the attention. Enjoying the way the subtle flirting keeps her on her toes.

She knows it's unprofessional and frankly reckless, but she finds herself caring about that less and less as the days go by.

Especially when training with Wanda becomes less and less about working on their fighting techniques and more about how many flirty comments they can get away with before one them calls the other out.

Maybe it's that growing boldness that leads them to this.

Wanda knows she's crossing some sort of boundary. That there's no way she can hide behind excuses or act like what she's doing is a normal training move.In her defense, she doesn't even know how she got here.

One second, Natasha was teasing her, playfully making fun of her and telling her she wouldn't be able to get her down onto the mat. The next, they were sparing but not in the usual, technique-heavy way. And maybe that's what convices her to use her powers.

She'd avoided using them in the Avengers Compound after what she'd done to the team. The last she needed was to give them more reasons to resent her.

But in that moment, under the careful eyes of the Widow, she gave in to the urge.

Technically it was cheating, but it was her only way of proving Natasha wrong. So, she used her powers to distract the older woman long enough to sweep her legs out from under her.

That wasn't enough for her, though. No, she also had to take advantage of the moment and get on top of Natasha to straddle her and keep her down. "Gotcha."

It's not often that the Black Widow herself can say she's been completely blindsided. But here, under the witch, she can admit she's been bested. And she secretly loves it.

"It doesn't count," she replies, the smile on her face showing off how little she minds. "You cheated."

“Try not to sound so jealous, ‘Tasha.”

Natasha rolls her eyes as her hands attempt to grab hold of the witch’s waist. “I’m not jealous.”

Wanda beats her to it, her fingers easily wrapping around her wrists and bringing them down over her head. The movement is so smooth, so easy, that she almost doesn’t realize what she’s doing. At least, until she ends up with her face inches away from the older woman’s.

The proximity doesn't startle her like it should, though. It doesn't lead to her stammering out apologies while blushing a share of red far darker than the Widow's hair. All it does is fuel the flurry of bad ideas she's been having lately. Ideas of seeing what would happen if she allowed herself to cross that line between flirty, friendly, banter and desire.

Suddenly, it doesn't seem so crazy.With Natasha staring up at her with that charming smirk and their breaths mixing in the small space between their faces, it suddenly seems...easy. Obvious, even. Like all her running has been unnecessary.

Ironically, the older woman seems to read her mind.

"Are you going to keep staring or are you going to do something?"

Those words, that one question, is all the encouragement she needs to throw her fears to the side and surrender to what she wants. What she truly wants. Not what she thinks she has to do to survive, not what other people tell her she has to do, but what she wants to do.

Even if she's read the situation wrong, even if Natasha doesn't feel the same, the fact that she's able to make her own choice is already more than enough for her. More than she ever thought she'd be able to get after joining HYDRA.

Wanda doesn't give it another thought. She barely even lets herself breathe. She simply leans down the rest of the way and allows her lips to connect with Natasha's.

It's truly a simple action.

A quick kiss between people who shouldn't have even fallen for each other in the first place.

And yet, it's everything she's ever longed for.In that kiss, she tastes everything she thought she'd never find. She feels things she thought were too far from her reach.

Freedom.

Understanding.

Passion.

She feels it all in magnitudes that rival even her own powers.

And then it stops.

The sound of the doors of the training room slamming open break them apart. They not only jump apart but they quickly scramble to get up, putting as much distance between each other as they can while not looking suspicious.It's frankly a little ridiculous but it's an instinct neither of them can ignore. One that's just as ingrained in Natasha as it is in Wanda.

Which means she doesn't have to run.

Deep down, she knows she doesn't have to run anymore. That she can stay and not feel guilty about what she's done. About the feelings she's finally letting herself admit.

There's nothing wrong with how she feels, she knows that. And yet, when she's standing there, watching Natasha talk to Tony about whatever annoying thing he's so passionate about this time, she feels like she's never been more wrong in her life. She feels as if she's crossed a line she should have never approached in the first place.

And suddenly, the fear of losing the older woman slams into her all at once.

The Widow notices, of course. Not just because she can see the flickers of panic that shoot across the witch's face, but because she feels it. Wanda quite literally reaches out to her, subconsciously and telepathically, and sends that same fear down her spine.Natasha, being a lot more in control of her emotions than Wanda is most of the time, instantly notices something is wrong. There's no reason for her to feel so panicked, which means the fear filling her mind is coming from outside of herself.

Her eyes shift over to the witch and before she can even attempt to reassure her, Wanda turns around and walks away from them. She wishes she could say seeing her leave doesn't hurt, but it does. It brings back fears she thought she'd long gotten rid of long before they'd even met. Fears of not being enough, of being too much, too dangerous, unable to feel emotions properly. 

For all of Tony's self-centeredness, he notices the change in her mood almost instantly. She'd love to give him credit, but she's pretty sure the only reason he can tell something is wrong is because her eyes follow Wanda as she walks out of the training room. If anything, it's his constant need to be the center of attention that allows him to pick up on the lingering tension in her stance.

“Hey, uh, is everything okay with you guys?" He asks, looking at her over the rim of his ridiculous sunglasses. 

Natasha sighs, stuck between wanting to tell her friend the truth and not wanting to reveal far more than she should. It's not like she doesn't trust him, but she knows him and the Sokovian have a very...tense relationship most days. She can't really fault the younger woman for that, even when it makes her own friendships more complicated than she would like.

“Yeah, we're fine," she replies, throwing in a good-natured shrug. "It's been a long morning."

Tony doesn't seem to fully buy her excuse but he doesn't push. He just nods and goes back to complaining about Steve and his dumb mission plan. Which means she goes back to pretending like she's listening while her mind drifts to thoughts of Wanda.

Of her hands on her waist, the feeling of her lips against her own, the warmth that spreads in her gut whenever she thinks about the way she looked under her.

"Okay, what's going on with you?" Tony asks after she zones out for the tenth time. "Did the little witch sink her fangs into you that deep?"

Natasha groans, barely holding in the urge to smack that stupid, smug grin off his face. "Don't call her that, idiot. And she didn't do anything, I'm just tired, I already told you."

Her words only make his grin grow into a smirk. "Tired because-"

“Don't you dare finish that sentence."

Despite his obvious amusement, he relents. Mainly because he really doesn't want to get punched...again, but also because he can tell there's something deeper than just annoyance in the Widow's words. A twinge of stress she can't hide.

“Okay, fine. Just go get your girl."

"She's not my- You know what? Never mind."

Natasha takes the opportunity and instantly speeds away from Tony, silently cursing herself for not having left earlier. She can only imagine what Wanda thinks of her now. Of the cowardice she let herself show by not running after her like she should have.

Even though she wants nothing more than to go to her own room and overthink her decisions, her feet carry her straight to the young witch. Time seems to blur as she makes her way down hallways, past endless doors that offer private places to sulk like she wants to.

But she can't. She can't go back to acting like she doesn't care about the Sokovian. Back to acting like her feelings are irrelevant when they're the only thing she thinks about. When the only thing she wants is to be with Wanda.

Before she can stop herself by thinking far too much about the consequences of what she's doing, she knocks on the younger woman's door. A few moments go by, moments filled with endless thoughts, each one more anxiety-inducing than the last.

(Especially the ones about the likelihood of Tony watching her through the stupid security cameras because he's bored and far too nosy for his own sake)

Thankfully, Wanda opens the door before she can spiral too much.

"Can I help you?" Her voice is even, not too soft but not too rough. Just inviting enough for the Widow to not back down. For her to believe she still has a chance.

“Yes, we have some unfinished business to take care of."

"You make it sound like I'm paperwork." The witch rolls her eyes, although the petulance in her stance comes from nervousness instead of annoyance.

Natasha can't help but chuckle. "You're not paperwork, princess. I just have one more thing I need to do."

Wanda narrows her eyes at that, not even trying to hide her interest. "Is that so? And what is it you need from me?"

They're both well aware they're acting far more serious than they have to, but they can't help playing along. Almost like they're subconsciously trying to gauge how they're feeling. If anything has changed after being so rudely interrupted.

Truth be told, something has changed for Natasha. Not in a massively drastic way...unless her coming to the conclusion that she can't run away from her feelings is drastic.

"Aren't you a mind reader?" She replies, arching her eyebrow.

If there was any doubt about what exactly she had been planning to do, they vanish in an instant. All Wanda can really do is reach out to take the older woman's hand and drag her into her room.

Once the door closes behind her, Natasha flips them around, her hands finding their way onto the witch's waist as she holds her there. Their gazes meet and the air between them seems to crackle with the electricity of their barely contained desire.

They both know they should tread carefully, that there are things they need to talk about, feelings they need to put out in the open before things escalate. It's hard to think rationally about how they feel when they're locked together like this. When all they want is to crash their lips together and forget the rest of the world.

Natasha forces herself to be responsible, though. To give the younger woman the last word. To give her back the control so many people took away from her by force.

"Is this still what you want?" She asks, her voice softer than she's ever let it be. "Because I can go."

Wanda answers almost instantly, her hands gripping the Widow's shoulders. There's an urgency there that neither of them dares comment on, even though they both feel it. "Don't you dare leave."

The older woman almost wants to laugh. To tease and poke the witch like she usually does. But she can't. 

She can't because she knows that not what Wanda needs. Hell, it's not what she needs either. She told herself she wouldn't run anymore and she's not about to break her promise.

"I won't."

Natasha lets her words hang in the air for a few seconds, her eyes quickly searching her face for any signs of hesitation or regret. She doesn't find anything like that, though. The younger woman simple stares at her with that borderline reverent look she wears so well.

She's not sure which one of them breaks first.

All she knows is one second she's staring into Wanda's eyes and the next, they're surging forward and letting their lips meet once more.

This time, in the privacy of Wanda's room, she's able to lose herself completely. To allow the feeling of her lips to overwhelm her senses, to drown out the thoughts that scream at her that she's not enough. That she hasn't done enough to make up for her past.

It's hard for her thoughts to take shape when she's like this, though. Pressed so close to the witch that they're practically one, their bodies fitting together and painting a beautiful picture of reserved desperation.

Well, out of the two, Natasha seems to be the only reserved one. Her hands haven't moved from the younger woman's waist and her grip is surprisingly soft for someone capable of such strength. 

Wanda, on the other hand, is having a much harder time containing herself. Her hands are everywhere, fingers digging into the fabric of the Widow's shirt as if it's personally offended her. It's impossible for them to get any closer and yet she keeps trying, pulling and pulling as if that will make them become one.

It's unclear where exactly that desperation is coming from, but it's not unwelcome by either of them. It's almost...freeing, in its own weird way. Allowing them to explore parts of themselves they'd long pushed down.

“Careful, princess," Natasha whispers once she's able to pull away. "I'm not going anywhere, you know?"

“Shut up." The witch's cheeks are tinted a soft shade of pink which makes her words less effective.

Unfortunately for her, the Widow is enjoying herself far too much. "Make me."

All Wanda can really do is roll her eyes. "You're annoying."

"Don't be a brat, sweetheart," the older woman warns. "I won't hesitate to put you in your place."

The witch does what she can to hide the shudder of pleasure that runs down her spine. While she had no specific expectations about what things would be like with Natasha, she'd be lying if she said she wasn't looking forward to being under her spell. To allow someone who cares about her to take control.

Even without words, the Widow knows exactly where the younger woman's thoughts go. It's impossible to ignore the way her breath picks up, the way the green in her eyes gets swallowed by dark desire.

“Oh, I see, you'd like that, wouldn't you? You want me to give you what you need?"

It's a tease as much as it is a search for permission. She needs Wanda to tell her what she truly wants before she can allow them to keep going. She needs to make sure they're on the same page about this. That they won't go too far too fast and ruin the bond they'd carefully created.

Wanda, for better or for worse, isn't as predictable as the Widow wants. Instead of an admittance of submission, a clear description of her desires, she meets the challenge with one of her own.

She uses her grip on Natasha to push her backward, allowing the energy between them to shift once more. It's a dance they're used to. The push and pull that appears naturally thanks to their personalities.

“You don't have to give it to me," Wanda replies, easily pushing the older woman down onto her bed. "I can take it myself."

As enticing as the challenge is, as tantalizing as the image might be, there's no way the Widow can allow that. No way she's okay with sitting back and letting the witch have her way with her.

No, this is about control. About them letting go and giving their feelings the opportunity to overwhelm them.

And right, her feelings are saying she needs to show Wanda how much she adores her. How badly she wants to show her just how good she can make her feel.

There'll be time for everything else later. For them to experiment with fantasies and changing dynamics. To explore the almost subconcious call of their respective dominant and submissive sides. But right now wasn't about that.

Right now, she wanted to be gentle. To coax pleasure out of the younger woman until she couldn't think about anything else. 

And she'd be dammed if Wanda beat her to it.

“Cute," Natasha responds, her hands reaching out for Wanda's. "But that's not how things work here."

In a flash, she drags the witch down on top of her, barely giving her a moment to gather her bearings before flipping them over. Her lips curve into a smile as she settles on top of the younger woman, her hips nestled between her spread legs.

“This is unfair," Wanda says, but her words lack any real sign of discontent. She's simply bratting out for the sake of it. For the fun that comes from pushing the Widow.

Natasha tilts her head to the side, doing her best to replicate the witch's signature move. "Is it? Isn't this what you wanted?"

The only response she gets is a huff before impatient hands sneak underneath her shirt. "I want to touch you."

“You'll get your turn, princess, I promise." The Widow leans down, her lips finding the other woman's jaw. "Let me make you feel good first."

There's no way she can argue against that.Even though Wanda doesn't verbalize her surrender, the way she tilts her head back is more than enough of a response. Mainly because it gives Natasha more than enough room to explore. To find the places that make the younger woman gasp and tremble under her. 

Her lips make their way down her jaw and to her neck, softly biting down on the sensitive skin. Wanda doesn't even try to hide how affected she is, how desperate she is to feel the older woman against every inch of her skin.

"Fuck," she breathes out, voice rough with the edges of her accent.

Natasha takes that as her cue to allow her hands to join in. They sneak onto the hem of the witch's tanktop, playing with the fabric as she lets the tension rise.

"Can I...?" She asks, finally pulling away to stare down at the other woman.

A moment goes by where they simply stare at each other, allowing the words to sink in. They both know what the answer is, but there's something significant in the pause. 

A reminder that they can back out at any moment.

But for the first time in her life, Wanda doesn't want to stop. She doesn't feel wrong or dirty for what she's doing. There's no underlying sense of guilt, no worry that she's making a mistake.

There's nothing except the warmth of Natasha's gaze and the softness of her grip.

“Please."

The Widow doesn't waste any time. She slowly helps the younger woman undress, her eyes drinking in every inch of skin that's revealed to her. "You're beautiful."

Wanda almost wants to shrink away from that worshipful gaze. She's not used to being seen like this. To being cared for so genuinely.

So, she hides her nervousness behind eager movements, hoping to distract the older woman.

“I want to see you too, you know?" She huffs, fingers curling into the hem of her loose shirt.

Natasha nods. "I know."

With that, she reaches down to take her own shirt off, discarding it and letting it join the pile of clothes next to the bed. Seemingly in the blink of an eye, they're both topless, laid bare before each other, their breaths coming out as soft pants with equal measures of desperation.

For all her training and patience, the Widow finally crumbles.

She shifts down Wanda's body, her lips trailing down her chest until she meets her breasts. She lavishes attention between both of the peaks, her ears filling with the sounds of the younger woman's sighs, her back arching almost as if she's presenting herself.

Natasha's lips wrap around one of Wanda's perky nipples, relishing the gasp she receives in response. The witch's hand tangles in the Widow's red hair, pulling her closer as her hips rock forward.

The action would be adorable if it weren't so needy. Tinged with tones of arousal neither of them can pretend isn't there.

As badly as Natasha wants to tease, she forces herself to focus. Her lips move back and forth between Wanda's breasts as her hands hurry to the waistband of her pants. 

“Someone's eager," she teases as the witch shifts under her to help her slide the garments off her needy body.

“As if you're any better," Wanda huffs.

There's no way the Widow can argue with that so she doesn't even try. Instead, she focuses on the task at hand until the witch's pants and underwear join the pile on the floor.

Her lips quickly find a path down the middle of Wanda's chest, trailing down to her stomach, drawing out the sweetest sounds as she teasingly drags her teeth across the skin. The younger woman's hands grip the sheets below her as she forces herself to star down at Natasha, pupils blown wide with barely supressed need.

“Stop teasing," she whines, allowing her facade to crack.

Her words are met with a flurry of kisses and a pair of hands that wrap around her thighs and easily spread her open. "I'm not teasing. I'm taking my time."

“Well, it feels like you're teasing."

"That's not my problem." Natasha sends a poised smirk her way before her lips trail further down.

She can feel the desperation rolling off in waves from the woman underneath her but she's still in no rush. On the contrary, she takes a moment to admire the mess between Wanda's legs, the way her clit already twitches and her wetness makes her pussy glimmer with arousal.

One of her hands moves from her thigh to her cunt, swiping her fingers through her folds and watching the way her hips buck in response. "Look at you, so responsive. Such a good girl for me."

“'Tasha-" This time, there's no denying the way Wanda whines. "Please. Need you."

“I know, princess. Need me so bad it hurts, huh?"

The witch nods, the faintest layer of frustrated tears making her big, green eyes shine. Natasha's sure she's never seen a more gorgeous sight.

The widow's head ducks down, soft, reassuring, kisses placed to Wanda's inner thighs before she settles on her target. Her tongue flicks out to taste the younger woman's wetness, sliding through her folds and barely flicking her swollen clit.

Wanda's response is instant. Her whole body responds to the stimulation, lips parting as she allows her sounds of pleasure to slip out without restraint.

That lack of restraint is met with the fire of Natasha's desire. She explores the witch's cunt eagerly, holding her down with her free hand and experimenting between sucking and licking.

Her pace is steady despite how easily she loses herself in the taste of the other woman. "You're incredible," she whispers the praise against her cunt, her fingers teasing her entrance as her tongue finds her clit again.

“Fuck, please." Those two words are the only things she's able to form as she rocks her hips forward, practically chasing after the Widow's fingers.

Natasha gets the message and she eases two fingers into Wanda's drenched cunt. She watches the younger woman with bated breath, drinking in the way her eyes flutter shut and her head falls back.

Every moan, every gasp, is the reassurance she needs to keep going. To work her fingers in and out of her until she's greedily clenching around them.

“Taking me so good, you're doing so good, Wands," she says, her voice soft and breathless. "You gonna cum for me?”

"Yes! Don't stop-"

Natasha wouldn't dream of it.

She increases the pace of her fingers while her lips wrap themselves around Wanda's swollen clit. The witch loses herself in the feeling, bucking her hips every which way as the pleasure slowly consumes her, setting every nerve ending on fire until all she can do is pant out the older woman's name.

And still, Natasha doesn't stop, her mind set on her goal.

She sucks on Wanda's clit, her tongue drawing sharp circles against it as she fucks her with her fingers. Her movements are equal parts controlled and unrestrained. Careful and reckless.

She balances on that knive's edge like an expert, giving the witch everything she can while being careful not to hurt her.

Her efforts are rewarded by a particularly high-pitched gasp, Wanda's body tensing up beneath her. "Shit, shit, just like that, Nat-"

Her jumbled words turn into a long moan as she tumbles over the edge, succumbing to the overwhelming pleasure.

Natasha eagerly laps up her release, her fingers slowling down as her tongue moves up and down her cunt. It's dirty and messy and so incredible she almost forgets how to breathe.

Everything around her feels like Wanda. Like everything else has stopped and all that exists is them locked in this intimate moment together.

She works the witch through her orgasm, not withdrawing her fingers until the tension in her body releases. Unable to help herself, she kisses her way up her body, this time stopping to admire the hickeys she left on her skin.

Once she reaches her face again, Wanda's giggling. A soft, dreamy sound that makes her feel like she's floating.

“You okay, sweetheart?" She asks, ducking down to pepper kisses across her jawline.

Her reply is nothing short of a breathless admission. "Yeah. That was...perfect."

“You're so corny," Natasha teases.

The witch opens her mouth to reply but before she can complain about how mean the older woman is, her words are replaced by a hum as their lips meet once more. Her hands move to grip the Widow’s waist, pulling her in closer.

“Who’s the cheater now?” She mumbles when they pull away, unable to control the smirk that breaks out across her face.

“Oh, shut up.”

This time, Wanda doesn’t back down so easily. “Make me.”

Natasha stares down at her for a few seconds, her brain struggling to catch up to the change in atmosphere.

But then, her hands are moving to the waistband of her own pants, the throbbing between her legs reminding her how desperate she is.

“Gladly.”

* * * * * * *

taglist: @boredandneedfanfics @rosekjsses

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hi Miss Raven! I was reading your opinions about Leona and wanted to ask you, do you think Leona would be a better king than Falena?

[Referencing this post!]

Put simply, no--but not for the reasons you're probably thinking. Hey now, hold on! Put down your pitchforks and torches! Please at least hear what I have to say and consider it.

It's not that I think that Leona is incompetent or that I think Falena is sufficient as a king. It's that ruling (especially as a monarch that has a LOT of power and control) is very nuanced and to say that one person would be "better" than another is grossly glossing over all that goes into governance.

This post gets quite long, so I've placed all my thoughts under the cut. Again, I ask that you read the whole post before commenting.

First of all, the baseline we're comparing to is Falena so let's review what we know about him that's relevant to this discussion. Leona describes Falena as someone who has a "carefree attitude". Because of this, Leona worries that Falena will "run [their] kingdom into the ground." Now something I want to make clear: "[running their] kingdom into the ground" is very harsh wording used ONLY in EN. In JP, Leona is much more casual with his phrasing. He simply expresses that he is "worried about the country's future", not that he thinks Falena will ruin it:

In the book 2 post-OB flashback sequence, Leona implies that his older brother can sing and nap but still be guaranteed the crown because of Falena being first-born. Falena is noted as holding a ceremony in honor of his son's birth; he had commissioned for a fountain to be built (even though water is a scarce resource in their land) and unveiled in their capital—an occasion which Leona skipped. He refers to the ceremony as a "self-indulgent party where you show off your son to the people." This characterizes Falena as a jovial and excessive person who doesn't think too deeply about policies. Another example of this comes from Leona's Birthday Boy vignettes, in which Falena sends his younger brother an expensive rug. "In the time he spends sending me gifts I don't even want, he could be sending rugs to neighboring lands and bolstering our foreign relations," Leona says. "Of course, the thought never even crosses his mind." One of the Sunset Savnna’s driving philosophies is “hakuna matata”, which, as Leona describes it, means, “don’t think too hard about things”. And indeed, if Falena is anything like how Leona says he is, then he is the walking embodiment of their country and their beliefs.

One major issue that is unique to their homeland is that of unification. The Sunset Savanna boasts many different kinds of beastmen, each with their own customs and cultures--and because of that, these beastmen tend to live in settlements of just their own kind and don't always get along or see eye-to-eye with others. For example, it is said that very few bird beastmen reside in the capital city and Ruggie has implied that hyenas are low in the social hierarchy. Kifaji, the grand chamberlain, confides that the acting king Falena has struggled with this unification. The Kingscholars' father has communicated that he would like for nothing more than Leona to lend his assistance to Falena for this endeavor. (Keep this in mind, as I will be touching upon this again later!)

What I think many people tend to overlook when it comes to Falena's rule is that he has not been in power for a long time. According to Tamashina Mina, Falena has only been running the country for "the last few years", which is NOT that long. Falena has not even had that much experience as the official head of state to begin with--and yeah, you could argue that he has been preparing his whole life to eventually become the ruler, training for it and actually doing it are very different beasts. No amount of tutoring will prepare you for having the weight of an entire nation suddenly on your shoulders. I would also argue that anyone that is new to a job won't do the best right away and that experience is the best teacher. Falena is likely still learning while on the job and trying to do his best while also juggling being a parent and husband, trying to reach across the aisle to his estranged younger brother, and looking after his ill father.

This leads me to another point: a lot of what we hear about Falena is coming from Leona's perspective, which is very biased (especially in the post-OB flashback, as this was when Leona was at his most bitter). We should be aware of this while taking in the information Leona is offering. I don't doubt that Leona's telling the truth about how his brother is carefree or the things his brother has done, but at the same time we need to realize that this is a limited view of Falena. It's not the whole picture of who he is. Leona tends to focus on his brother's shortcomings and downfalls--but thinking about it, what are Falena's strengths?

Well, one of them is definitely that Falena is friendly, kind-hearted, and honest. Even Leona confesses to this. However, he frames these traits in a negative way, stating that "[Falena] could just focus on the kingdom's affairs--you know, his JOB--but nooo, he's gotta be the caring big brother who's nice to everybody," and, of his honesty, "he just makes things harder for himself." Falena also seems to be positive and insightful--admirable qualities in a leader. When Leona speaks rudely to him, Falena tries to reassure his little brother: "You may never become king, but you are still wise. There is much you could do for this country." He even pursues Leona when he leaves, trying to get his little brother to see reason. Falena sees the potential in Leona and he wants Leona to realize that potential too. If you look at this another way, this personality can be a boon. It could make it easier for Falena to smooth over tensions and get other political figures to open up to him, similar to how Kalim’s empathy helps to uplift and support his dorm mates and how those dorm mates in return give him their loyalty.

Finally, we know that Falena is cognizant of the culture and the values of the Sunset Savanna and likely works in accordance with those. If we revisit Tamashina Mina, Leona talks at length about how some areas of the country are so underdeveloped that its people are still drinking rainwater or from wells. He laments the situation and says that if only they improved their infrastructure and mined the valuable ore their country has, the people would be able to live better lives. Leona here leans pro-industrialization. From the lack of industrialization we see in large parts of the country, we can assume that Falena does not have this same stance. Rather, Falena understands that the people of the Sunset Savanna cherish living in harmony with nature and want to honor their animal ancestors by living in a way that is sustainable He KNOWS that their people would be against industrialization, and so he favors slower development (Sunrise City being one of these metropolises that developed under the rule of their father) and in ways which preserve nature. As Lilia puts it, “Developing is easy. You just throw money at it. But building a city like this, while still preserving nature? That’s the real challenge, I’d say.” (That was a very quick summary but if you're interested in reading more about this topic specifically, I'd recommend this post!)

Falena cares about tradition and upholding it, and there isn’t inherently an issue with that. He values where he comes from and the practices that come with that. That’s why Falena gets upset with Leona for not doing his duties and skipping out on important meetings. It’s not purely that Falena sees these acts as disrespectful (although let’s be clear, it is disrespectful), but it also comes with the sadness of knowing that his younger brother doesn’t see the value in the same things he does—yet he still understands that Leona has his own strengths that be brings to the table.

You can see how this could translate into his ruling style too, even if it is not explicitly stated in the game. Falena is someone who is easy to approach with your problems (let's assume that this is the case both for his own people and for diplomats of other countries). He is someone who cares about tending to everyone, which would make him popular with the public--but that means he may spread himself or their resources too thin. Falena is also for slower progress in order to respect the ways of their culture and their people's values. He sees value in hearing others out and working in teams, even pleads with Leona to join his bureaucracy. But the point is, Falena cares, and all Leona sees in that is a bleeding heart since it doesn't produce what Leona thinks are good results.

And speaking of Leona, it's about time we get to him. What are his qualifications in a situation where he was king? What would his ruling style be like, and who would it serve his country?

Firstly, it's worthwhile to compare Leona's thinking to Falena's. Unlike his older brother, Leona is proactive--he plans ahead and considers the political power in something as simple as gifting an item. Many of the ideas he proposes for bettering his country are things that Falena either never thought of (ie gifting the rug to another country instead of to him; Falena sees spelldrive/magift as a national sport but Leona thinks they can drive up tourism with an elite team for the world league) or would refuse to implement out of principle (speedrunning mining operations). However, it's undeniable that Leona's methods would produce results. As he demonstrates to us with his shady tactics in books 2 and 3, it does not matter to Leona what he has to do in order to achieve what he desires. His eyes are set on the goal, not on how he gets there (though he will plan the steps out meticulously as well). He's willing to tear up the environment if it means enriching the Sunset Savanna's economy and providing clean, consistent drinking water for the citizens. It's ultimately gains, but it jeopardizes maintaining harmony with nature. This would earn him genuine ire from his people (and honestly, disliking someone for blatantly disregarding your beliefs is valid; it's not blindly being petty or hating Leona for being the "lowly second born"). But!! Leona as of book 7 says he is going to intern at a mining and energy lab in his home country. This implies that he is willing to learn about the field and may use that knowledge to enact sustainable change. This is a really good start to his development and growth into a wise leader.

The brothers' personalities are also not alike at all. Leona is... admittedly far more abrasive that Falena. I'm not saying that Leona would behave so rudely to politicians or on a global stage (please, the man has more tact than that), but he would carry himself very differently than Falena. Leona can be polite and speak fancily all he wants, but he still does not have that same approachable warmth to him. Something else we should consider is that... well, Leona doesn't like stuffy occasions or putting on airs, which would basically be expected of him as king. We don't know for sure how he would act if the circumstances ask that he be cordial and yet the man himself detests such a thing. He could play the part if needed, sure. But for how long before he becomes annoyed or tired of it? Leona can also be arrogant and demanding. Do you think he would skip/sleep through meetings with advisors he deems irrelevant or unproductive? (Recall how he skips ceremonies and traditions he deems unimportant or boring, like the celebration of Cheka’s birth and tries to cheat his way out of his responsibilities as Captain of the Sunset Warriors. He also skips classes, deeming school largely unnecessary for him because he thinks he already knows everything.) How do you think he'd act with people who oppose him? Would he defy traditions? He also disregards the “hakuna matata” mantra and cynically labels it “self-serving”. I could see how tensions could rise as a result. (Reminder that I'm not saying it's for CERTAIN that Leona would do these things, I'm just posing possibilities based on what I understand of his character and whether you believe Leona would act like this or not is up to you.) Leona is 10 years younger than Falena and has never formally served in a governmental position. This means that he, too, lacks the political experience to be king. Some would say that where Leona makes up for this is in life experiences. He has been downtrodden and defeated, mingled among the common folk, etc. This means Leona is better equipped to understand the plight of his people, they argue. And I can see where people are coming from--but personally, I think Leona still lacks what he needs to be a "better" ruler. Yes, Leona has lived "out there", but the fact remains that Falena still has 10 years on him. What's more is that Leona has not actually strayed that far from his privileged life. He's dorm leader (a position of power within NRC), attends an elite magic school, and constantly has Ruggie taking care of him. I don't think this really prepares him to rule a whole country.

That's a good segway into Leona and his leadership. As I've mentioned before, Falena is having trouble with enacting national policies to unite all beastmen. Leona does not appear to have the same issue, as even though there is a variety of beastmen within Savanaclaw, they all defer to Leona the same. Therefore, Leona, as king, could easily resolve this problem in the Sunset Savanna--so the theory goes. As for me, well... In my opinion, I do think it's a show of skill that Leona can get many different beastmen rallying under his flag but I don't think this generalizes to (again) the scale of an entire nation. Not only do we have to account for WAY more people, but also people of demographics that differ wildly from Savanaclaw. The mobs under Leona follow him, yes--but thinking about it, they're all VERY similar demographics-wise. They're roughly the same age, all male, all students, and have the same goals in mind (for book 2, it was to be noticed by talent scouts). I would bet that most of them are from middle class or upper-class incomes too. Now expand the scope to a country. Do you think Leona could appeal to young and old? Male and female? Rich and poor? People of all occupations? What about parents? There are so many other factors to account for, so I don't think it's fair to generalize Leona leading a dorm of maybe 85ish (this is just a guess; NRC has ~800 total students, 600 are on-campus and split across 7 dorms so this assumes equal splitting) to a diverse kingdom of thousands. We also have to consider that the rules that govern NRC don’t translate to the real world. At NRC, power and individualism is what is valued—both of which Leona has in spades. Are those same things valued in his kingdom? No, be is feared for his power and can’t realistically accomplish the things he wants to on his own.

I want to point out another glaring weakness of Leona's: because of his pride, he has trouble sharing power. While Falena is okay with working with others, Leona hates to be challenged. He doesn't have a vice dorm leader because he doesn't want to butt heads with someone else about how to rule. He shuts down Epel, who asks him about strength training and tells him to focus on speed instead, because that's what Leona sees as Epel's best asset. He scoffs at the idea of listening to individual complaints and thinks there would be a more efficient way of handling them. Leona generally lacks his brother's empathy and would rather maximize efficiency by allowing himself to be the only one calling the shots. We get a glimpse of Leona relinquishing his power as dorm leader to Ruggie in book 6, but that's only because Leona physically cannot be present to rule. This could be an exception, or just the first step in Leona shifting to adapt to working in a team.

If Falena were to abdicate the throne to Leona right this second, no, I don't think Leona would be fit to be king. Leona's ideas seem "good" on a surface level, but that's ignoring the long-term impacts and his less-than-stellar personality quirks. He has a ton that he has to learn before he can comfortably govern. At the same time, Falena isn't exactly a perfect ruler either. He, too, lacks experience and can be short-sighted and naive in spite of his good intentions and willingness to hear everyone out.

In an AU where Leona was actually the crown prince (and thus never got talked down to or treated like the “lesser” second born), maybe things would be different. But then that creates the same issue with Falena (now the scorned younger prince) being the "Leona" of the AU.

Each Kingscholar brother has his own strengths and weaknesses, perspectives, and leadership styles. THIS DOES NOT MAKE ONE SUPERIOR OR "BETTER" THAN THE OTHER. Instead, they make up for one another's deficits or flaws, creating a more well-rounded and unified view. This is, perhaps, why both Falena and their father want Leona to step in and help with ruling the country. I think they all see the benefit that Leona could provide and that they value his thoughts.

The "best" situation for the Sunset Savanna, in my opinion, would be Leona and Falena working together to see the country's future through. It does not have to be in the capacity of king and advisor; titles do not matter here. What is most important is that Leona and Falena can meet on neutral grounds and agree to put their all into improving the Sunset Savanna.

[etherfabric]

Compliments from Spirit - What are you doing right?

Choose a pile by which picture you resonate with the most.

If your mind is too busy to clearly decide, take a few deep breaths, and use the finger of your non-dominant hand to hover over the images. One will give off the most subtle yet prominent signals, like tingles, a magnetic pull, or temperature. This is your pile. Multiples are also possible.

You are the ultimate authority over your life. I merely provide my perspective. Sometimes the Universe lines you up with something that doesn't resonate with your truth, so you have contrast to find out what does. Never give away your power.

Pile 1

4 of Swords, 4 of Cups, The Magician

Spirit is complimenting you on your restraint and how well you center yourself. You learned your lessons around excessive, fear-fueled activity, how it wears you down without any payoff, and you take those lessons to heart. Your body's need to rest has become your wise friend and guide to consider, instead of your mortal enemy to defeat. You thank your emotions for telling you where you strayed from your authentic path, you honor the little pains and stings along the way just as much as the pleasant surprises. It's like in an airplane, where in an emergency, the little lights left and right on the ground lead you to the nearest exit back to safety when you can't see otherwise. Your symptoms are your loyal companions you are listening to with patience and intent. You are not rushing yourself anymore to an unobtainable future, you are honoring what you already have and don't fall for FOMO.

What is truly yours won't want you to strain and hurt yourself. What is truly yours loves you and has no problem waiting for you.

This approach gives you authentic, reliable bouts of energy you can channel towards what is truly important to you. It's marvelous how little effort compared to the past now yields these beautiful results that seemed so far out of your reach. You feel empowered and have found a new sense of patience with yourself and the Universe at large. You recognize your own struggles in others, and know that their limits are not meant as a personal insult. They are on their own path to their true calling just as you are, and Spirit can see the compassion you have for them. Continue seeing the big picture and your part in it. Time is on your side. The Universe likes your new, slow, conscious approach, and is happy that you have found the wisdom in your limits; that they were your private teachers all along.

Pile 2

Strength, 2 of Wands, The World

You have found a whole new level of self love. Things that used to make you cringe are seen in a completely different light - you see your good intentions, and that most of the times, it is other people's opinions you internalized that you feel when expressing yourself. And even if you come to your own conclusion on how you want to change certain aspects - you don't use these discoveries as a stick to beat you with anymore. You have developed a profound capacity for self compassion. You see your desperate needs no one felt responsible for in the past, how hard you had to try because nothing was given freely where you come from. Okay, yeah, you exposed things you wouldn't expose in the same context today. But now you can thank yourself for it, because you see how it was the only option back then with what you had and knew. And it was good enough to eventually get you here.

You were desperate to find connection, friends, someone who cares for you. You offered all these things so they could pick and choose where to connect to you. You are a generous, love-oriented being, always have been. The judgements others places on your past and present behaviors come from a limited, competitive point of view you can no longer hold without feeling the unnecessary pain of it. It just feels disingenuous towards yourself. You know too much about where you come from and who you are because of it, what drives you, what you are looking for in life, to mindlessly punish yourself with these false accusations.

You send the shame back to where it came from, and are free to give yourself the love you crave and deserve.

You dared to look inwards, despite all the shame. You thought you would find a hideous monster, a waste of every resource ever coming their way - and found a being of light. Capable of so much goodness to give, the only sensible conclusion is to provide them with everything they need, and foster relationships with only likeminded supporters. I mean, it's a true miracle. In the past there was really no one around who took you as part of themselves, who considered your best interests just as important as theirs - and now look where you are! Who you are with! How peaceful and exciting, and liveable this life has become. Spirit couldn't be prouder. So much more is waiting for you. The hard part is definitely over.

Pile 3

10 of Cups, The Empress, 3 of Wands

Spirit compliments you on your willingness to receive. Gone are the days of guilt tripping yourself over morsels. Now you feast, daily. This routine allows you to live in a perpetual cycle of abundance. You feel good, because you go after what you know you deserve. And you go after what you deserve, because you know it makes you feel good. You no longer hold yourself up with questions whether to go after comfy OR practical - you know which way you can get both. And most important of all: You stopped making yourself smaller than you actually are supposed to be. All your needs and wants come from a sacred place, and you have seen it for yourself.

This brings great relief to your interpersonal relationships. Your clean conscience translates into generosity and letting miniscule hiccups slide with ease. Remember how tiny mistakes used to trip you up for days on end? Now you don't even need seconds to process them as the background noise they always wanted to be. You know what truly matters and don't let yourself get confused by smoke screens. People either mean it, or they can fuck right off. Those who mean it bask in your warmth, and those who don't just aren't getting invited to the party that is your life now. And boy, do you know how to host.

The people around you feel like on a constant vacation with you. Comfort and fun are sacred priorities, and everybody is important.

They can contribute their perspective in an environment of trust and good faith. Your spontaneity is met with keen support, and fate plays just the right song to elevate the atmosphere even further. Continue getting a full plate everyday, there will always be more where that came from. As long as you don't let your impostor syndrome get the better of you, I don't see an end to this joyride for quite some time.

Pile 4

The Fool, Queen of Wands, Seven of Cups, The Hanged Man

Spirit is complimenting you on your masterful ability to adapt. Like a surfer, you read the currents of life flowing in and around you with expertise and diligence. You know some days the ocean won't bring you anything exciting, and muddy waters might not be the best to dive through, but you got time and can wait. You know the mud holds important nutrients that need to find their way in their own time. Just like when your head is full of random thoughts you can't seem to channel into anything useful - you know how to embrace it, rather than fight against it and stir up the water even further.

Now you have the confidence to know when to do nothing at all. And suddenly, the mud settles back at the ground, and you are free to dive right in. The most subtle changes can't slip past your perception, and you know which waves you can use to your advantage, and which ones would just drag you down without any mercy. Your confidence in your skills lets you marvel at the forces from a safe distance rather than cower in paralyzing fear.

What used to feel like cruel randomness, now reveals itself as divine orchestration. And all you had to change was your perspective.

Even your darkest times of despair have finally told you their secret: They are the soil you are growing on. The fallen leaves of past hopes and dreams are the soil for what is real now. The destruction of the past turned out to be a vital step in the recipe. Like Rumi said, the wound is where the light enters you. Now, when you are faced with a so-called dark aspect of life, you are alread curious how and when the benefit of it will come into your reality. It doesn't erase the pain, but you don't even want that anymore. It tells a story that makes you glad to be alive, rather than feeling like a victim to your own birth. It makes you want to see how it will turn out, rahter than checking out prematurely. What a marvelous, marvelous development. Spirit is so glad you are still here.

[after-witch]

TPOF!Ren Imagine

Title: TPOF!Ren imagine [Ren Hana x Reader]

Synopsis: What if you were taken by Strade? What if you escaped, leaving Ren behind? And what if you just happened to bump into Ren, years later?

Word count: 2100ish

note: kidnapped reader, drugging, descriptions of violence and torture, scars, kidnapping, descriptions of noncon sex, just a stream of consciousness written imagine that I did before bed because I have no self control, take that as you will

Imagine Strade has kept you. You spend weeks, months--more?--being tortured in ways you could never have imagined. But you live. Somehow or another, you live.

You're kept there, like Ren, as an interesting pet. And the two of you share a tentative bond, in time. He did help you, after all...

But... you're afraid of Ren. A little. Not because he's ever been mean to you or hurt you without Strade forcing him to--but because you know that Strade can be fickle. He might decide he likes Ren better, and get rid of you.

Or maybe someone else he brings home will catch his eye, and he'll ponder getting rid of one of you... and who is more likely to go to make room for another long term victim, you wonder, the boy with fox ears or plain, simple you? It's obvious.

So sometimes, you're afraid of Ren. Afraid that Ren's existence will eventually mean your demise.

But you have your moments together.

Moments where you curl up in Ren's nest of a bed, letting his warm tail wrap around you, ignoring the way your shock collars occasionally clink together while you snuggle. Sometimes you whisper things to each other. Hopes. Fears. Secrets. Dreams for the future, which are sometimes shared fantasies of escaping together, going somewhere, starting anew.

There are shared pains, too. You sneak into the bathroom and clean each other's wounds, as much as you know Strade will allow without crossing an unspoken boundary. You press cool cloths to his burning cuts, he gently massages your healed but always-aching broken fingers.

Sometimes, Strade makes you hurt each other. Usually, Ren wins out in the end. But you have no chance against claws. You don't hold it against Ren after the fact, but sometimes when you're sharing a bed at night or a quiet moment when Strade is out of the house, you can't help but think about the way his claws rip through your flesh or the way his knot hurt when Strade yanked him out early.

And one day... Strade is dead. You scream for Ren when it happens--some new victim he's captured finally getting one over on him, not without their own fatal wounds--and Ren watches Strade die, and you watch Strade die, and then the two of you are standing over his gaping-mouth corpse.

The two of you head upstairs, the basement thick with quiet, and for the first time you don't have to worry about hearing Strade's footsteps come up them.

Ren's collar comes off first. Then he helps you with yours.

And you should--say something. You should tell him that the two of you will leave, go to the police, find an apartment, figure out what to do--something, anything.

But in the moment, you panic. You panic because you see in Ren's eyes that he wants you to stay with him and you're so afraid of being trapped again.

You bolt. You bolt out the front door and don't look back. You hear Ren shout your name and the pad of his feet up to the front door, but he doesn't cross the threshold.

You should go back for him. You should tell the police that he's there. But you're afraid. Your face was on Strade's streams. Who knew what sort of people watched them? What if you were recognized? Strade wasn't shy about the fact that powerful people watched his streams. What if... one of them was connected with the police department?

And so you don't say a damn thing. You pick up the pieces of your life and there's a part of you that you left in that damned house with Ren that rots and festers, but you can't let it stop you. You hate yourself for leaving. You hate yourself for not going back.

But you might have hated yourself if you stayed, too.

And then it's been years... and years.... and years.

You still suffer from your time with Strade. Mentally. Physically. The scars have faded, but they never go fully away, some white-blanched and others still retaining a tinge of vivid pink. You hate those the most.

And there's the aches and pains, too. Arthritis in your fingers and hands. A fracture in your foot that didn't heal properly, but you didn't have the health insurance to get it fixed, and now you walk with a limp and cane on bad days.

You get nightmares. Most of the time, you're right back in the house or the basement. Being tortured. Slow and thick dreams that are usually coupled with sleep paralysis. Ren is in them, sometimes, and he's scared and hateful and you wake up with that gnawing, awful guilt.

But you force it down. You have to--Ren was an adult, too, just like you. That's how you cope with the guilt. You tell yourself that he left the house and found himself a small place to live and he's doing fine out there. Working at a bookshop or some anime collectible store. Something that helps him get by. He'll have scars and nightmares, too, but he'll be okay, for the most part.

Just like you are.

Because you've moved on as much as one could, considering. You have a spouse--ten years together, now--and a house with a little yard and a career that leaves you comfortable enough, financially. You don't have kids but your spouse has nieces and nephews that you enjoy spoiling now and then, and that's enough for you.

You were so hyper-vigilant after your initial escape. You wore wigs, and went outside only rarely. You hopped around from place to place, used fake names. You had locks upon locks upon locks on your doors. You never went home the same way twice.

But over time... you gradually stopped worrying. When 1 year became 5 years became 10 years, when time aged your face and slowed your racing heart. When you got a long-term partner and stopped hopping to new places every year, terrified that someone would come find you.

Over the years, you stop looking over your shoulder everywhere you go. You stop assuming every stranger staring at you on the bus recognizes you from Strade's streams and is going to kidnap you and kill you. You stop thinking about it as an immediate threat and treat it like past trauma--to be dealt with, sure, but to be tucked away for your sanity.

And one day, one ordinary little day, you're walking around a secondhand collectible store to look for a particular book when you bump into someone.

The first thing you notice is that they're wearing a nice suit, tailored, like they're going to a business meeting or live in a big city where such outfits are considered casual wear.

The second thing you notice, when you look up at their face with an apology on your lips, is that underneath the hat that they lift every so gently, they have fox ears and scars and red hair peppered with just a dash of silver.

It takes you a moment. Two moments. Three moments.

It's Ren.

Older, like you. But Ren, clear as day, there is no doubt about it.

Relief and an awful, stomach-churning anxiety spread through your gut at the exact same time.

"Ren?"

He doesn't react at first, merely stares at you, and your nightmares come back to you: those nightmares where he hates you, where he tells you that you left him there like he's nothing, where he throws back all your whispered conversations in the dark back in your face.

And then a little smile splits his face and the gut-churning fear in your stomach recedes just enough for you not to shake when he places two hands on your shoulders, steady, and firm.

"Hey. It's okay. It's been a long time."

You break into something like a laugh, and tears prick at your eyes before sliding down your cheeks.

"How..." You don't know what to ask first. How is this possible? How are you? Why are you here? Are you okay?

And finally you settle on something that's eaten away at your soul, bit by bit, since you ran away.

"I'm... sorry." You can't look him in the eye. "I shouldn't have just left that day. But I was scared, and I--"

He places a finger to your lips, and the claw at the end seems sharper now, polished and carefully filed.

"Don't," he says. "It doesn't matter now." He has a coolness to his voice, a shrugging tone to it all. You wonder if it matches your own tone, sometimes, when you're confronted with reminders of the past.

"Do you... want to get coffee or something?" You ask, and you immediately feel stupid, asking if someone who was tortured alongside you (who hurt you, too--but he had to) for coffee like they were an old high school friend.

But he smiles, a little grinning pep to it now, a little bit of an edge with his teeth showing, and says, "Sure."

You leave the shop together, book forgotten, intent on catching up.

It should bother you, that he didn't look actually surprised to see you. It should bother you, that he swept you out of the store so quickly.

But you're too overwhelmed by his presence to notice little things like that.

You don't even notice the black car parked down the street that turns only only when Ren leads you into a coffee shop, pulling around the corner into a nearby alleyway.

You don't think twice about Ren texting someone after you arrive. You don't think twice about Ren ordering for you, motioning for you to find a seat, insisting on taking both cups to the little stand with sugar and creamers himself.

You don't think twice about the taste of the coffee being a little off. Ren put in too much sugar, probably. You used to take it much sweeter, back then, when Strade allowed the two of you to indulge in cup after cup to stay awake for nighttime streams.

It's a shame the hyper-vigilance ebbed away, really, because if you had noticed any one of these things, maybe you would have left the situation. Though, in the end, would it have stopped him?

You focus on awkward small talk. Asking what he's been up to (running his own business) and how he feels (better than ever) and whether he's okay (are you?).

He asks you questions, too, and you find yourself spilling it all too easily. You talk about your spouse, your cute little home, the garden you planted, the books you've read, the little career you've built. You ask if he still likes anime and he smiles, and then your hand is on his arm--you can see some of the scars on his hand, and your own, too--and feel so bad so you start to apologize again---

That's when things get... woozy. Your hand slips from his arm, and you can't grasp your coffee cup. You mumble something about not feeling good.

Ren is standing right away, helping you to your feet. He pulls out his phone and says he'll call an ambulance. You try to wave it off, you're fine, you're just overwhelmed, you didn't eat much today. He insists you sit down and if you weren't so dizzy you might realize something is wrong as he leads you down the street, into an alleyway, where at the end there is a shiny black car with tinted windows.

"I'll take you to get some help," he says, and you don't question it, because your mind is foggy and you can't see straight, and it's just Ren, isn't it? It's just Ren.

It's not until you're bundled into the car with Ren taking the spot next to you in the backseat, his worried expression smoothed over into something cool and triumphant, that the sense of wrongness hits you. Even through the fog of your mind, it hits you.

"Ren? Ren?"

"Shh."

That finger is back on your lips, but this time his finger pivots sideways, a claw lightly tracing one of your facial scars. You can feel it slicing open, like a papercut.

The little blossom of pain is a good distraction for the punch of the needle that he jabs into your thigh a moment later.

You have just enough time to gasp and mutter something, mouth opening and closing like a fish. Nothing comes out. You see him watch you for a moment, eyes half-lidded, before he stares ahead at the driver.

"We'll have time to talk later. When the drugs wear off."

The last thing you see before unconscious is his smile, almost a grin.

[thesirencult]

PAC : 2024. HOW WILL IT TRANSFORM YOU ?

This time of the year our spiritual senses are heightened. Possibilities, the past and the future, for a few nanoseconds we are in the in between. Throughout 2024 we will all be transformed. In this reading I will go over which parts of your psyche will be touched by the year that holds the meaning of number 8, transformative and abundant.

"New Year" readings ar available for 25€. If you are interested just shoot me a private message.

Hope you enjoy this general reading and may your soul find the guidance it has a thirst for... S

PILE 1

“The psyches and souls of women also have their own cycles and seasons of doing and solitude, running and staying, being involved and being removed, questing and resting, creating and incubating, being of the world and returning to the soul-place.”

― Clarissa Pinkola Estés, quote from Women Who Run With the Wolves

Dear Pile 1,

2024 will transform the way you see change . Up until now you may have been resistant to changing certain aspects of your life. This could have something to do with your childhood and the way you, transforming and letting your emotions and intuitive sparks control, got you shamed and alienated.

This year you will learn the power rebranding has. It is never ever too late to change our direction and to let our instincts take the wheel for a change.

You will be transformed and blessed through the need for constant change and movement this next year and your ability to adapt will be sharpened.

At the end of the year, you will no longer see change as something that cause insecurity and fear. You will see it as the catalyst of the process of creating, YOU.

I know that right now you might be scoffing 1. Getting out of your safe zone is not easy for you. You may have prominent cancer on your chart, Saturn touching your moon or a strong moon placement.

Trust the process and let your soul go through the movements and cycles of transformation. Growing pains.

PILE 2

“Asking the proper question is the central action of transformation- in fairy tales, in analysis, and in individuation. The key question causes germination of consciousness. The properly shaped question always emanates from an essential curiosity about what stands behind. Questions are the keys that cause the secret doors of the psyche to swing open.”

― Clarissa Pinkola Estés, quote from Women Who Run With the Wolves

Pile 2, we are all in this together.

I picked this pile too and I want to tell you how this energy makes me feel. Everything is possible, until you ask the question you want to ask and make your choice. Let me break it down for you.

We are in need of a deep self-searching period. For the next few days, until December 31st take your time to ask the right questions. First and foremost ask yourself "What do I really want and need?"

2024 will transform us because it will make us ask questions. Question everything and everyone. Having questions is not bad. Be humble. We don't have to know it all. This makes me feel like we are going to be learning something new this year that will put us in the position of "the student".

This year you will come closer to your inner child because, guess what? Children ask a lot of questions and they are the OG philosophers.

This is how philosophy and science came to be in our world, per Plato and Aristotle. Because humans dared to ask questions.

This year will transform you to your core. Be delusional.

The key theme here : This year will transform the prism through which we look at life. We will realise that it is much better to guide ourselves as a student and look at life as a big wonderful world. Believe in the impossible. Curiosity killed the cat but WISDOM brought it back to life. Take good care fellow Plutonians 🫡.

PILE 3

“When a woman is frozen of feeling, when she can no longer feel herself, when her blood, her passion, no longer reach the extremities of her psyche, when she is desperate; then a fantasy life is far more pleasurable than anything else she can set her sights upon. Her little match lights, because they have no wood to burn, instead burn up the psyche as though it were a big dry log. The psyche begins to play tricks on itself; it lives now in the fantasy fire of all yearning fulfilled. This kind of fantasizing is like a lie: If you tell it often enough, you begin to believe it.”

― Clarissa Pinkola Estés, quote from Women Who Run With the Wolves

This is your fake it till you make it year. Big imposter syndrome vibes will follow you around like a rainy cloud.

"Do I deserve all the good things which are happening for me?", you ask. The question you should be asking yourself is "Should I read Pile 2, too?" 😂. All jokes aside learn to question that voice that says that you don't deserve as seat on the table.

You are a master at setting the table, now it is your time to sit on your lil chair and relax while others bring you the food.

2024 will put you in a position of authority. You hold the wheel now so do what you gotta do and don't blame your little self (are you a Virgo/Scorpio/Capricorn?) for not getting all the way there. Little by little the castle gets built 🏰.

Disclaimer :

Tarot readings are for entertainment purposes only.

Tarot readings are subject to interpretation and should not be taken as absolute. A tarot reading is never 100% accurate. All tarot readings given by me are for entertainment purposes only, and no guarantee can be given as to the accuracy of a reading. A tarot reading does not replace professional medical/legal/business opinion and advice. It will not force you to follow a particular course of action, or attempt to exert any form of control over your free-will and common sense. The contents of a tarot reading are not legally binding. Any decisions made, or actions taken by you as a result of your tarot reading are your sole responsibility and have not been forced upon you, by me, your tarot reader. I assume no legal liability for any damages, losses, or other consequences of any client decisions, subsequent to, or based on, my tarot readings. Please use your own common sense and judgment at all times. Tarot readings are also copyrighted and their creative content belongs to the creator.

As always, you CONTROL your life.

You have FREE WILL.

Freedom comes with RESPONSIBILITY.

Anyone that tells you otherwise doesn't have your best interest in mind.

Lots of love and kisses xoxo ❤️

TheSirenCult

[oneofthosebells]

The more I sit with S3 of Young Royals, the more I love it. I feel like it gave us the revolution we were promised but it was personal instead of systematic, and that's okay.

Sometimes you can't burn down everything, some systems are too entrenched to change overnight. But even so you can choose to change yourself, and you can change the people around you, and you can learn and listen and grow. You can choose to put yourself first when you're up against an enemy that's too big to fight and the fight is making you lose sight of who you are. You can choose to walk away from the toxic situation. You can choose the friends that help you grow over the friends that hold you back. You can choose yourself and your friends and your family over the person you have romantic feelings for. And those are all revolutions in their own way.

Hillerska closes, ending the cycle of bullying and abuse. But the elite will fight to open it again because of course they will. That's how it works. The rich and powerful will always cling on by their fingernails to keep the status quo that works for them. (As Terry Pratchett put it, they'll "do what the aristocracy have always done, which is trim sails and survive.") But even if it does re-open, that doesn't undo all the good done by closing it, because things will never be exactly the same again. The school inspectorate will be breathing down their necks, they'd probably have to replace all of the board and most of the staff to re-open, and a few parents at least will re-consider sending their own kids there. Remember how Henry said the school was having problems finding students even before all of this happened? The old regime can't hold.

The monarchy wobbles, but will survive - or will it? Like the school, it's run into big problems. The monarch doesn't look like she wants to do this any more. Her consort is, let's be honest, about as much use as a jelly pickaxe. The only heir they have left is a teenage sex offender with an eating disorder and a pill addiction. So maybe it too is on its way out. Or maybe, like the school, they'll fight to save the institution at all costs, and probably they'll succeed; but something fundamental has shifted. A seed has been planted.

I just really like all the loose ends and unanswered questions tbh. I know it didn't work for some people, which is fair enough! But it really worked for me, because it feels realistic. That's life. This is a small snapshot of 9 or 10 months or so in the lives of a bunch of teenagers. Of course they're not going to have all their issues sorted out yet. Some won't have even realised what their issues are yet (cough, August).

But what this ending gives us is some small, personal revolutions in the present and hope for the future. (For the characters we love, anyway. August is a bit screwed. Yay!) And I think that's beautiful.

I don't think S3 was perfect by any means. There's things I could nitpick if I really wanted to (#JusticeForMaddie). But I just don't want to? Because everything we did get I love to bits, and that's more than enough for me.

[mc-lukanette]

One might think that having the most incredible, most creative, most skilled, and most beautiful girlfriend in the world would be hard, but it wasn't for Luka. What would destroy the confidence of hyper-sensitive boys only bolstered Luka's, knowing that such a wonderful girl picked him.

He had no idea what he'd done to deserve Marinette, Paris's sole hero and the guardian of the miraculouses, but he wasn't going to argue.

"Which one are you showing me today?" he asked, leaning forward on her chaise lounge.

She grinned, raising a finger to gesture for him to wait. "You'll see! I don't want to spoil the surprise."

There was a bounce in her step as she walked over to the Miracle Box, her hands gliding along its edges before opening it up. Luka kept himself rooted in place, fighting the contagious excitement but unable to help tilting to the side to try and see better.

It was common for her to show him the various miraculouses in the box and explain their powers, ever since her master had handed it over to her and left the country with his own lover. It wasn't just for fun either - even if they did have fun doing it - as Luka was Marinette's hero of choice when she needed someone to wield a miraculous for her.

She insisted every time that it was a completely unbiased decision, that it wasn't her fault that he could fit so many of them, and who was he to question a guardian?

Marinette turned to face him, holding up a shiny black ring and waving it about. Gesturing at it with her free hand, she explained, "This one's special. It's not safe to use since it's one of the ones Hawk Moth wants, but who knows? You might need to someday."

There was a playfulness to her voice that made him raise a brow, but he suspected that it might have to do with the thought of actually seeing him transformed. He wasn't oblivious to the once-over she'd give him any time he transformed with a miraculous he hadn't used before, and he'd do the same back to her.

That was because, rather than simply explaining the miraculous to him, she would ditch her earrings and don it herself like some superhero version of dressing up for one's significant other. While Luka knew nothing of fashion nor design, he could still appreciate seeing her in something new.

Marinette slipped the miraculous onto her finger, raising it up to watch it shrink just enough to fit her. It transformed, disguising itself to be a simple, rose gold ring, and out came another kwami for Luka to meet.

Said kwami, easily fitting the black and cat theme the ring had previously given off, yawned and stretched now that he was properly outside of the box. His green eyes popped open, tail swishing curiously as his cat-like pupils took in the scene before him.

"Oh, we're finally doing this, huh?" he asked, flying over to Luka. He looked him up and down, then went closer to bat at his bangs. "Hair's soft at least. Would make a nice bed."

"Plagg," Marinette called sternly, putting her hands on her hips.

Luka moved his head to look past Plagg and smile at her. "It's alright. He's not bothering me."

Also, though he didn't say it out loud, meeting each kwami felt vaguely like trying to impress future in-laws, so he gave all of them an extra dose of his patience.

"Good kid," Plagg said, hovering around Luka in a circle before laying himself atop his head. "Just keep the mushy stuff to a minimum whenever I'm here and we'll be fine. I got sick enough hearing her talk to me about it."

Luka looked up despite his inability to actually see Plagg. "You were talking about it?"

"Well—"

"Plagg!" Marinette burst out, panicked. "Transform me!"

Luka heard a mischievous snicker just before Plagg was pulled off of his head and into the miraculous. The rose gold ring returned to its original shape and color, light flowing out of it and transforming Marinette.

As if the fake cat ears that popped out of her head weren't already cute enough, her hair grew in length and fashioned itself into a long braid to represent a cat tail. Lining her black bodysuit were streaks of blue, accentuating her body properly as one would expect of a future fashion designer, and her sclera turned to a lighter blue while her pupils turned into vertical slits to mirror Plagg's.

Luka didn't realize his mouth had opened at all until she strutted up to him and closed it with a clawed hand. He smiled warmly, not subtle about looking her over.

"I love the black and blue," he said, doing his best to compliment her as an artist might. "The blue stripes harmonize with your eyes."

The pink blush didn't do anything for the look she was going for, but he cherished it all the same.

"Thanks~" Her voice came out a little higher-pitched, shyness blending with her earlier confidence. She reached out for him, placing her hands firmly on his shoulders, then began to let herself up onto his lap.

It wasn't usual for them to cuddle during her mini lessons - not right away, at least - but muscle memory kicked in nonetheless and his hands found her sides. Her hair brushed his skin as she buried her face into the crook of his neck and slipped her arms around his back.

"I didn't know you could give lessons from there," he said jokingly, though his own voice was a smidge higher as well.

She didn't joke back, which he found a little odd. Beyond the sound of her shuffling to get even closer to him, she wasn't making a noise of any sort.

He rubbed her sides in tiny circles with his thumb, calling out curiously, "Marinette?"

Now, Luka had a mental log of all of the various sounds that Marinette made over the course of them knowing each other. She had sounds for when she was jumping in excitement, for when she slept, for when she was distressed, and for when she was being cuddled.

But the sound she was making at that moment was entirely foreign to him. It was low, rumbling, and consistent, repeating in almost a rhythmic pattern. He tried to place it without getting distracted by the way she almost seemed to be vibrating against him, but then it clicked.

She was wearing the cat miraculous. He didn't have a cat himself, but they did go to a few pet shelters one day to see the animals and talk about if they'd want one when they were old enough to move out together. He still remembered getting to pet one of the cats, rubbing its side not unlike what he was doing with Marinette.

She was purring.

"Mmm," she hummed, sensing that he'd gotten it, "I...I know I'm not always good with words. We're dating, but nothing I really want to say comes out the way it is in my head. Even when you don't say anything, you can still play music, so..." She sighed, nuzzling him. "I wanted to find a way to speak your language?"

Luka froze, blushing as he looked down at her. Plagg's earlier words came back to mind - that she had been talking to him about their contact - and he realized that it must've been this: that she wanted to know if cat heroes could purr so she could tell Luka what she felt without words: that she was comfortable with him, that she loved him, and that she felt happy whenever he touched her.

Luka wasn't self-conscious about his role in the world, but at the end of the day he was just some guy. He wasn't conventionally attractive like a celebrity on a magazine, he had what many would consider a lower class part-time job, and he didn't have any presence in the public eye. He didn't have any problem with that - less eyes on him meant more time he could eye Marinette - but it left him awestruck yet again thinking of how many boys must've been after her (or how many stupid ones weren't) when her gaze focused solely on him.

"...Luka?" Marinette called when he didn't say anything. The purring stopped as she raised up enough to look at him, the fake cat ears drooping in concern.

He snapped himself out of his reverie. Smiling at her, he took one hand off her side to cup the back on her head, bringing her in to press their foreheads together. He took a deep breath, finding calm in her scent, and assured, "You're already speaking my language, Marinette. Music doesn't mean playing an instrument or purring like a cat does. You're the song in my head, all the time, even if you're not singing."

"Really?" She sounded skeptical.

With a chuckle, he asked, "Do you want to know what my favorite part of your look is?"

She perked up, pulling back so he could better gesture at said part. "What? What is it?"

His smile tilted up to the side in a smirk. He brought a hand to her face, pressing a finger to her lips. "Right here."

Her brows soared, eyes going wide. She pushed his hand away and turned her face to the side so she could laugh, even as her face flushed. "That didn't change at all!"

He pulled her back in, eyes glinting in amusement but no less genuine. "So? You don't need words to tell me how you feel. I know with everything you do for me, and the sounds you make are already music to my ears, especially when we're..." His eyes flicked to her lips instead of saying anything further.

Her blush deepened, her claws raking shyly through her bangs. "S-so... all that practice of hugging my pillow and trying to imagine it was you to see if I could purr? That was all for nothing?"

She asked it lightly, but Luka had never been jealous of a pillow before that day, knowing that it got the experience before him.

"No," he replied with a shrug. "I love hearing whatever you want to give me, but you're already so much. You're more than enough."

He could see her visibly swallow, the stiff embarrassment melting away as she relaxed against him. She bit her bottom lip - carefully due to her fangs - and slowly slid the back of her claws up his stomach, his chest, then over his shoulder.

"Then—do you want to hear a little more?"

It was a request, not a question, and a request he was happy to indulge in.

He kissed her, immediately rewarded with a squeak that transitioned smoothly into a moan. Whenever one of them were in superhero form, it was inevitable that the other would be underneath them eventually due to the strength imbalance, thus leaving him laying flat on the chaise lounge as she kissed him back.

He could hear the purr starting up again, but he much preferred the tune they were creating with their mouths.