#but i don't think i'm actually ever helping with that and

[harrysfolklore]

hi! i have a little bitch blurb request - piastri sis is on painkillers after a minor surgery or after being at the dentist and while carlos is taking care of her she says things she never would’ve DARED to say out loud - even about the fact she’s been infatuated with him longer than she’ll ever admit 😋

this was so fun write 😭😭 i love my little bitches so much

"Carloooooos," you slur through a mouth full of gauze, reaching blindly for him as the nurse wheels you out. "I missed you. Did you miss me? I was asleep but I missed you."

"Yes, mi amor," he tries not to laugh as he helps you into the car. "I missed you too."

"Your face is so nice," you pat his cheek clumsily. "Like... so symmetrical. Are you real? Maybe I'm dreaming."

He buckles you in carefully. "I'm real."

"Prove it," you demand, then immediately start giggling. "My mouth feels like clouds. Do clouds feel things, Carlos? Are clouds sad?"

"I don't think so-"

"We should ask Lando," you say seriously. "He knows about clouds. He's British. It rains there."

Carlos bites his lip to keep from laughing as he starts driving. You're staring at him with wide, unfocused eyes.

"Your hair is so fluffy," you reach for him, missing completely. "Like a lion. My lion. Did you know lions mate for life? Are we lions, Carlos?"

"Eyes on the road, eyes on the road," he mutters to himself in Spanish, fighting a smile.

"Oh! Spanish!" you perk up. "I know Spanish! Te... te something. What's the word? The love word?"

"Te amo?"

"YES!" you try to clap but miss your hands together. "Te amo! I love you SO much. Like... like more than pizza. And I really love pizza. I think I love you since the first time I called you a stupid little bitch."

"I'm honored-"

"But shhhh," you stage whisper. "Don't tell Carlos. He'll get a big head. His head's already perfect though. How is it so perfect?"

"Mi amor, I am Carlos."

You gasp dramatically. "No way! Since when?"

"Since birth, I think."

"Birth!" you suddenly look devastated. "I wasn't there for your birth! I missed baby Carlos! He was probably so cute. With tiny baby abs."

He can't hold back his laugh this time. "I don't think I had abs as a baby."

"Lies," you poke his arm, missing twice. "You came out of the womb with a six-pack. And perfect hair. And that smile that makes me want to take off my-"

"Okay!" he interrupts quickly. "How about some water?"

"Water is boring," you pout. "You're not boring though. You're exciting. Like racing. Vroom vroom."

He hands you a water bottle anyway, helping you drink without choking.

"My hero," you sigh dreamily. "Saving me from death by water. We should get married."

He nearly swerves. "What?"

"Yeah! Right now! Call Lando, he can be the flower girl. Oscar can be the ring bear."

"Ring bearer?"

"No, ring BEAR. He has to dress as a bear. It's traditional."

"Since when?"

"Since right now. I just decided. I'm very smart, Carlos. The doctor said so."

"Did he?"

"Mhmm. He said..." you scrunch your face in concentration. "Actually I don't remember. But I'm sure he did. Because I am smart. Smart enough to date you. HA! Take that, Instagram models!"

"What Instagram models?"

"The ones that slide into your DMs," you try to look stern but your numb face isn't cooperating. "I see them. With their perfect teeth. Well guess what? I have no teeth now! I win!"

"You still have teeth, mi amor. Just minus the wisdom ones."

"Wisdom..." you gasp. "Carlos! Am I going to be stupid now?"

"No-"

"Quick! Ask me something smart!"

"Like what?"

"Like... what's your favorite color?"

"That's not really a test of wisdom-"

"BLUE!" you shout triumphantly. "See? Still smart! And your butt looks really good in blue. Like REALLY good. Science fact. I used to stare at your butt when I pretended to hate you."

Finally, you reach home. Carlos helps you out of the car as you ramble about his "science butt" and whether lions know about race cars.

"Time for rest," he says, laying you on the bed.

"No," you grab his shirt. "Stay. Protect me from the tooth fairy. She's a thief, Carlos. A professional thief."

"I'll protect you," he promises, sliding in beside you.

"My hero," you mumble, already drifting off. "Hey Carlos?"

"Yes?"

"If we have babies, will they have wisdom teeth? Or will they be born wise? Like little wise lions...Or wise little little bitches."

You fall asleep before he can answer, drooling slightly through the gauze.

And Carlos can only smile.

[mxtantrights]

Azriel is (secretly) in love with you

"If it were anyone else, you would let them go." you grumble.

Rhys sighs and sets down both his utensils. The table goes silent.

No one could get into a fight like the two of you. Perks of knowing each other since you were children. Rhys is like the little brother you never wanted, but really treasured. And you were like the older sister he never asked for, but really needed. Especially after his mother and sister were brutally taken from him and his father died.

Which is how you now that he's treating you differently. If it were Azriel or Cassian asking to go on this mission he would happy oblige. If it were Feyre he might hesitate but he would let her do it. Mor or Amren he would let them do it. Nesta, well he doesn't tell her what to do ever. And Elaine, if she wanted to do something like this you think he might watch in shock. Never mind the valkyries.

"So you understand, great." he says sassily.

You slam the table, "Stop being rude. I deserve to go on this mission. I deserve what I'm owed."

"What makes you think-"

"I'm owed the head of the man who massacred my family. I am owed Rhysand!" you shout.

"Maybe we can come back to this conversation-" Cassian starts.

You and Rhys look at him in an instant. "Butt out Cass."

Cassian puts his hands up in surrender. You grunt and apologize to him. He nods his head once and places his hands down. You look over at Rhys.

"I'm going. Whether you want me to or not. I'm not asking for permission." you speak.

You stand up from your seat and storm out of family dinner. Something you have never done before. You know how important it is to Rhys and it's important to you too. But you know that tensions are high and you might say something you can't take back.

Its a long walk to your room. And as you sit on the edge of your bed you can't help to think to yourself about the circumstances. If this were Rhys, if he could go after Tamlin you wouldn't stop him. You'd help him.

So why does he not want you anywhere near this?

Your door opens and you green yourself up for a fight, thinking it's Rhys. But when your eyes meet Azriel's you deflate a little bit. Actually a lot. You can feel the tears forming in your eyes.

"I'll ask him to put me on the mission. And then I'll winnow you in." he says.

You look at him in pure confusion. You can't believe what he's saying. Was Azriel...defying orders for the first time? You've never seen him do something like this. To offer you something like this?

"Az, you can't." you say.

"I can. If you agree." he says.

"Why would you disobey Rhys like that?" you ask.

He looks at you. His eyes are basically piercing into your soul. And while you look into his eyes you understand why he's not answering you. He's not saying anything but he's saying everything.

"You know why." he puts simply.

It doesn't surprise you. It doesn't come as a shock. You don't know why but with him standing there and looking at you, you feel it. What you've been feeling for a while underneath the surface.

And he doesn't say anything else. He leaves and shuts the door behind him. You sit there with nothing else to say either. You don't chase after him. You don't call out his name.

Azriel. It's Azriel. How have you been so blind this whole time?

[theminecraftbee]

"You let me think you were dead, you know."

Jimmy winces, but he doesn't turn around to look at Grian, or Cuteguy, or whatever he's going by right now. He considers just walking away. He considers a lot of things, but he doesn't expect he'll be able to, because--

"Don't walk away from me, Jimmy."

When Jimmy turns around, Grian's only half-dressed as Cuteguy, wearing no goggles, the paints he uses to disguise his wings slowly bleeding out, streaks of bold pink and black dripping down otherwise dull brown patterns. Jimmy takes a moment to stare. He's not quite sure which name he's supposed to be calling the man in front of him. On the one hand, he's not wearing the goggles, his dark eyes fully visible to the world. On the other hand, he's still wearing most of the clothes, and there's escrima sticks still hanging from his belt, and while the paint is fading it's still right there, hiding the patterns that make the wings identifiable as Grian.

Jimmy shifts uncomfortably. "I did," he says, finally.

"You let me think you were shot in the head in front of me," Cuteguy says.

"That, uh, did happen," Jimmy says. Cuteguy gestures at Jimmy. Jimmy swallows. "Look, uh, it's not like it was super fun for me to wake up in the morgue either."

"You could have said something!" Cuteguy says. "You could have--you could have just, just rung me up and, and said--"

"Sorry man, it turns out that you getting me killed got undone?" Jimmy says, equally quietly, and Grian reels back in the same way that Jimmy imagines he must have when he was shot, too.

"Timmy," Grian says.

"I mean, I don't actually really blame you that much at this point," Jimmy says. "I don't really--it's not exactly your fault someone else shot us. I'm--I mean, I'm not happy with--you call him Forgery. Not so happy he didn't know that--yeah. But it's still a little... I did die, you know."

"You should have said something," Cuteguy says.

"I'm still kinda dead," Jimmy says.

"Timmy, I--I thought you were dead. I thought I wasn't ever--I'm sorry," Grian says.

"Oh," Jimmy says, because he's not sure what else to say. He both did and didn't expect an apology. It is, after all, Grian; it is, after all, Grian.

"I'm sorry, I'm--I was just, just yelling at you again because I was scared, because, because you're one of my best friends, and, and you were dead, Timmy. You were dead."

Jimmy's not sure what to say, or which of the person in front of him said that. He's fairly certain it's Grian. He's also fairly certain the world is grey and blurry again, and he has to take deep breaths, digging his fingers into his palms and trying very hard to remember that it's not really Cuteguy's fault, or even really Forgery's; until then, neither of them had understood how dangerous it was, either.

But it's not them that faced the consequences, is it?

Joel says it's fair to be angry. It's fair to blame them. Jimmy doesn't know that it is.

"I was dead," agrees Jimmy.

"Not going to say anything else?" Grian asks.

"No," Jimmy says.

Grian stares, and then it is most certainly Cuteguy who pulls himself together, shakes his wings until his feathers are straighter, and puts on a face that betrays nothing of the heartbreak or confusion or hurt he's feeling. Jimmy does, absolutely, hate it.

"Actually, I just wish... I don't know, man. Never mind," Jimmy says.

(He hates the way he doesn't recognize his own best friend some days nearly as much as he hates the way he doesn't recognize himself.)

Cuteguy stares for a long moment.

"Yeah, me too," he says. "Do... do you wanna come get sushi at that one weird place you like? Where you have the weird rivalry with that one server?"

"He insists salmon is the best sushi fish, and is absolutely wrong," Jimmy says primly, and then he nods, and even Cuteguy can't help but betray his relief.

They walk side-by-side, together. It doesn't really matter who they are now.

[woozinhos]

hii I love ur works smmm!!! can I request mingyu dad au and their child asking for another sibling??

Notes: oh my god she’s back with another fic enjoy guys I know it’s not the best but I’m slowly easing back into it <3

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.

You and Mingyu were sitting together on the couch, enjoying a quiet evening at home when your child walked into the room, looking up at you with an innocent expression on their face.

"Mommy, Daddy?" they asked, his voice soft. Mingyu looked down at them, a smile on his face. "What is it, sweetheart?"

He looked between the two of you before speaking again. "Can I ask you guys a question?" Mingyu chuckled, ruffling the child's hair affectionately. "Of course you can, buddy. What's on your mind?" He hesitated for a moment, looking down at the floor before looking back up at you and Mingyu. "Why don't I have any brothers or sisters?" You and Mingyu exchanged a look, surprised by the question. Mingyu cleared his throat, unsure of how to answer.

"Well, sweetheart," he began, "having a baby is a big responsibility. It takes a lot of time and effort to take care of a baby, and it's not always easy." He nodded, looking up at you with wide eyes. "But I'm a good kid, right? And I would be a good brother, wouldn't I?" Mingyu smiled, touched by his words. "Of course you would, buddy. You're the best kid we could ever ask for. But having a baby is more than just being a good kid. It's about being able to share love and attention with another person." You and Mingyu looked at each other again, a silent conversation passing between you. His request was unexpected, but his words made sense.

"We'll think about it, okay?" you said to him, ruffling their hair like Mingyu had done earlier. "But it's not something we can just decide on a whim. It's a big decision that needs to be thought through carefully." He nodded again, accepting your answer. "Okay," he said, a hint of disappointment in his voice. "Goodnight, Mommy. Goodnight, Daddy."

"Goodnight, sweetheart," you and Mingyu chorused, watching as he left the room. Once he was gone, you turned to Mingyu, a thoughtful expression on your face. "Do you think we should actually consider it?" you asked him. Mingyu sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know," he admitted. "I mean, it's definitely something we need to think about. But we already have so much going on with our work and taking care of our child. Another baby would mean even more responsibility."

You nodded, understanding his concerns. "I know what you mean. But at the same time, I can't help but feel a little guilty.He seems so excited about the idea of having a sibling. Maybe we've been holding off on having more kids for too long." Mingyu looked at you, his expression serious but smirking at the same time. "You're right. We've been so focused on our careers and our own lives that we've kind of neglected the idea of having more kids. Maybe it's time we started thinking about it seriously." You raised an eyebrow at Mingyu's smirk. "What are you thinking?" you asked him, a hint of amusement in your voice.

Mingyu leaned in closer to you, his smirk widening. "I'm thinking that maybe we could have some fun trying to make that decision," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. You felt a shiver run down your spine as his words sent a jolt of excitement through you. "Oh, really?" you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. "And how do you propose we do that?" Mingyu's smirk turned into a mischievous grin as he leaned in even closer, his lips brushing against your ear. "Well, we could start by practicing some...unprotected fun," he whispered, his hand sliding up your thigh.

You let out a soft gasp as his hand continued to move higher, your body already responding to his touch. "Mingyu, we're supposed to be thinking about having another baby, not making one right now," you protested weakly. Mingyu chuckled as he continued to kiss your neck, his lips moving slowly and sensually along your skin. "I know, I know," he murmured between kisses. "But can you blame me for wanting you so badly right now?" You shook your head, giving in to the pleasure that his kisses were causing. "No, I suppose I can't," you admitted, tilting your head to give him better access to your neck.

Mingyu lifted you up into his arms, carrying you to the bedroom with ease. He kicked the door shut behind him and gently placed you on the bed, his eyes dark with desire. As you lay on the bed, Mingyu climbed on top of you, his body pressing against yours. He began to kiss you hungrily, his tongue exploring your mouth as his hands roamed over your body. You responded to his kisses with equal fervor, your arms wrapping around his neck as you pulled him closer. The heat between you was building quickly, and you could feel yourself getting lost in the moment.

Mingyu's hands were impatient as he tore at your clothes, his own shirt quickly joining the pile on the floor. His body was taut and muscular, and you couldn't help but run your hands over his chest and abs. He paused for a moment, his eyes roaming over your exposed skin. "You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice husky with desire. "I want you so badly." You could feel the heat rising between your legs as his words sent a thrill through you. "I want you too," you murmured, reaching up to pull him down for another kiss.

As he pulled his boxers down, you couldn't help but stare at his impressive size. You felt a wave of anticipation wash over you, your body already eager for what was to come. Mingyu saw the look in your eyes and grinned, knowing exactly what you were thinking. "Someone's eager," he teased, his hands moving down to your hips. "I love it when you look at me like that." You let out a soft moan as he positioned himself, the anticipation almost too much to bear. You could feel his hardness against your entrance, and you couldn't wait for him to enter you.

"Ready?" he asked, his voice a low growl in your ear. You nodded, unable to form words, and he slowly began to push himself inside of you. As he filled you, you gasped and clutched at his back, your nails digging into his skin. The sensation was intense, but it felt so good. You could feel yourself adjusting to his size, your body welcoming him in.

Once he was fully inside of you, he paused for a moment, letting you get used to the feeling. "You feel so good," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "So tight and perfect." You let out a soft moan in response, your hips bucking up against him involuntarily. "Move," you urged him, your voice barely above a whisper. He began to move, slowly at first, but quickly picking up speed. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body, and you found yourself arching your back, pushing against him. As he moved faster, you could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. Your moans grew louder, and you clutched at him desperately, needing to hold onto something as the pleasure threatened to overwhelm you.

"Shhh, be quiet," he whispered, his voice low and urgent. "We don't want to wake up our boy." He continued to move inside of you, his pace steady but intense. He knew how close you were, and he wanted to draw it out for as long as possible. You bit your lip, trying to stifle your moans as he continued to drive you towards the edge. You could feel the heat building inside of you, and you knew that you were about to explode. Suddenly, you felt yourself tipping over the edge, your body shaking with pleasure as you climaxed. You clutched at him tightly, your fingers digging into his skin as wave after wave of ecstasy washed over you.

"I'm gonna cum," he groaned, his voice strained. "I want you to take it, all of it."

He continued to thrust, his movements becoming more erratic as he approached his own climax. "You're gonna look so beautiful pregnant," he panted. "My baby inside of you..." He suddenly let out a loud moan, his body shuddering as he released himself inside of you. You could feel the warmth spreading through you, and you knew that he was true to his word.

As he finished, he collapsed on top of you, panting heavily. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as you both tried to catch your breath. "That was amazing," he whispered, his voice filled with satisfaction. You nodded, still unable to speak. Your body was tingling all over, and you felt like you were floating on air. You could feel his seed still inside of you, and the thought sent a shiver down your spine.

"Our son's got great ideas," he said, his lips brushing against your hair. "We should thank him later."

[amourtoken]

hey so speaking of blood now all i’m thinking about is jacks feral need to mark you with it. no better way to claim you than his blood stained into your body. maybe a little spit it into your mouth heyo i am unwell bro

tw for blood/pain kinks pls don't ingest if it bugs you

if you're unwell, I'm already dead 😭 cause I love this sm

To put it simply, Jack is fucking gross. Not physically by any means, but mentally. OH he's a freak-

Bite marks, bruises and handprints only go so far yk? They're nice, he'll never get tired of seeing them on you but sometimes it's just not enough. He needs you in a way that surpasses sex and crawls into an undying primal way. He doesn't just wanna fuck you, he wants to- no. needs to become a part of you in one way or another. Since he can't physically brand his name onto your body yet, he'll find other ways to tangle his DNA up with yours.

He gets pretty rough when you fuck, but loves when you return the energy. Dig your nails into his back until you break skin, pull his hair like you want it to hurt, beg for him till your throat is so raw you can't speak. The way he drives himself into you makes you think he wants to split you down the middle and the way his fingers dig into your hips when he cums only furthers the theory. Speaking of cum, he'd rather actually be put to death than cum outside of you. Doesn't matter if it's in your mouth or pussy he's just outright refusing to finish if he's not balls deep buried in you, and anything that runs out is quickly gathered up by his fingers to be fucked back into you. You catch him mouthing off about knocking you up every time he gets close, it's almost entirely mindless chatter but it still makes your face heat up when you hear him choking out pleas begging for you to let him own you like that.

His freak rlly reaches a peak after your teeth sink into his lip a little too hard one evening. He didn't even bother pulling away from you immediately, just deepening the kiss despite the stinging feeling radiating from his bottom lip. When he does finally take a breath, the sight of your lips covered in his blood makes his cock twitch so hard he nearly cums right there. No other sight could possibly compare, he's sure, but fuck he needs to see more.

You'd end up thrown onto the mattress with your clothes strewn in random corners of the room while Jack trails his lips everywhere they can reach. The constant pressure kept the small cut from healing, leading to a pretty trail of red tracing the dips and curves of your form. It decorated you like the prettiest lingerie in the world, he couldn't get enough. Jack would work his way between your legs just to hike them onto his shoulders and bury his face in your pussy like it was the last thing he'd ever taste. He'd have you shaking and tears burning at your waterline so fast you could barely think, which helped him out when he used your fucked out state to get you to open your mouth for him.

Spitting in your mouth is nothing new by any means but the mix of his saliva, blood and the taste of your own release was absolutely new.

[thecurioustale]

love it when you look up a word’s pronunciation and only get the formal Linguist zalgotext-style version.

Yep. =[

It used to be that pronunciation guides were put there to help people pronounce words. Now they often serve as this weirdly passive-aggressive Brahminist virtue signaling prescriptivism. Gosh, that's a mouthful, but what I mean is that most people can't penetrate this crap, and the people who stick it there in place of a real pronunciation guide know this. They do it on purpose, under the paper-thin pretense of linguistic precision, basically because gatekeeping is a power trip.

In everyday usage—and here I'm only speaking of the American context; other English-speaking contexts can have their own parallel lanes when needed—people just need to be told the relatively short list of common vowels. That's 90% of the way there or better. More than good enough!

And when they are deprived access to a pronunciation guide they can actually understand, their only alternatives are to either not use the word, thus validating the gatekeeping and self-imposing the stratification, or to use it blindly and hope for the best.

This actually came up for me just a couple days ago. I wanted to double-check the standard English pronunciation of the Latin word extremus. Conceivably there isn't one, because there was no entry on Wiktionary for English usage and several other dictionary sites didn't have an entry at all. I only got as far as Wiktionary's Latin IPA Pronunciation Key, which, astoundingly, had no translation aids to offer for the English speaker at all, and no English-language sound examples. So either you already know the functions of the various IPA symbols, or you don't. And if you already know them, you would be looking up the key!

Wiktionary is my dictionary of first recourse online ever since Dictionary.com became so slow because of ads. I still prefer them for their content, but Wiktionary is very good too, and it loads instantly, even if it lacks near-fit search result capabilities (so you'd better know how to spell the words you look up exactly right!). But, yeah, they definitely have some weak spots inflicted by the local Brahmin. The good news is that the actual entries of words for use in English have a little more assistance available. But some of the other languages, not so much.

I think it's amazing that Wiktionary has English-language definitions of words in other languages at all! But it could use some accessibility improvements to be sure.

love it when you look up a word’s pronunciation and only get the formal Linguist zalgotext-style version. like damn i guess i’m not using that word.

[anonymous-existences]

An Apparition in the Dark, Pt 1:

It's been a while. Yes, I was in hiatus, I still kinda am, the writer's block and the stress of personal life has struck me like Odysseus to Poseidon with the trident. But I'm gonna try my best to... Update my fics. :3

"I miss being human."

Danny Fenton, 17, Boy who has gone through so much, probably far too much for his age. Having run away from his very home to this hellhole that is Gotham, Why would he stay there? Because it's possibly the only place where he can hide from the bastards that are the GIW. He's not human so that makes him even more useful for the alleys, Crime Alley if we are being specific, he has hidden and ran away from the bats and they have never seen eye to eye.

Danny is a clever boy, ofcourse he would be because he's gone through a lot, but... Sometimes he reminisces of the time he was human. The time where he had no fear of being hunted down for experiments, the time when he didn't have to play hero for his town out of... The sense of responsibility he had taken upon himself when he died.

14 years old boy Danny, Died, in the very portal his parents had created in the name of science. Was it worth it? Danny wonders if his parents had felt the guilt of his death. Had they mourned him when they, by indirect faith, killed him. Because of their recklessness, because they were absolutely incapable of committing to lab safety precautions for their children.

Now, their boy.. Oh their little boy, Danny Fenton had ran away from home to they don't know where.

And Danny, He's just there. He will survive, he's always survived, he's survived death many times, he's faced the king of ghost, he's faced the god of time, he's faced gods and deities, he's faced more than a normal boy should.

"I miss feeling warm."

He is a ghost, a half ghost! Danny is a Halfa! He knows that, a lot knows that, that's why he's in Gotham anyways but they don't know that, they don't need to know he's partially dead. Just that he has abilities. He doesn't always need to play hero for these pricks, if anything he can use his abilities to play the role of... Justice.

Now he just sounds like A Bat, he doesn't wanna be labeled as a bat. Maybe... Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to be like them he thinks, he stares at them from afar as they... Converse and talk, they're totally brothers or related in some way.

The Bat Himself may or may not have noticed the little lingering presence that stares from the darkness, from afar. Actually, he's the first to notice out of all the bats surprisingly. He doesn't know what it is about the staring eyes but they're not malicious, They're.... Not dangerous, Not entirely but something about the presence felt like they're just... Small and meek.

They're cold but they occasionally longed for warmth, The Bat would leave 'treats' or money hidden away in a spot where these eyes could see, the way they watched him warily.

" . . . "

Now Red Robin wasn't stupid, Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne wasn't stupid. He's been... Watching, Observing Bruce whenever he leaves those items in a hidden specific place, near the darkness. He doesn't question it, he didn't need to... Not Yet.

Taking notes of everything, every time the items disappear, when they were hidden, what date they were given, observing ever so closely as much as he could without causing suspicion on himself.

It was going well, no one else had noticed, Not even Bruce but suddenly, one day. Out of the blue, he felt a presence sit beside him on top of a building. "You're Red Robin right?" The invisible boy asks.

Before Tim could react, the invisible Presence spoke again, "You're warm.... I miss Feeling Warm." And then he disappeared, "Wait—!" RR reached out beside him where he felt the other person was but they were gone... Like a ghost.

". . . Safety?"

It's been a few months since then, he slowly got warmer with them, helping them occasionally when they're struggling. Fine he's gonna admit it but they feel like family now— family? Damn... He hasn't felt that connection in so long.

They've heard his voice, but he was still invisible, he was still afraid,, maybe. He laughs at their jokes, They include him with a lot of stuff and they kept implying that he should come home with them.... Yeah.

Maybe he should, Danny smiled to himself as he hovered and followed them back to the cave unbeknownst to them. He was amused and in awe, the Batcave! Wow! Maybe he'll follow them around more often now.

As he wandered around silently he saw them out of costume— okay, Maybe Danny shouldn't be actually following them without them knowing but— "I hope he knows he's safe here." Danny's ears perked up when he heard what seems to be signal, or Duke as he's learned, spoke.

".... Safety?" He mumbled under his breathe, a bit taken aback by that sentence. They want him to be safe...? That... That was new....

Yeah.

This was nice.

"..... Safety."

[kitthenameless]

It's Omeluum time! And by that I mean, let's talk about some of the things many people don't seem to know about Omeluum and some of the things that commonly come up when people compare it to the Emperor.

(As far as I know, Om exclusively uses it/its, so that's what I'll use.)

One way in which the two illithids differ is that the Emperor doesn't have the same choices or opportunities as Omeluum to escape elder brains. He's a lot more at risk of being controlled again. Om just happened to be lucky enough to be born with magic that helped it.

Omeluum then worked with a lich. The Emperor eats criminals, and though we can't be sure that's all he's ever eaten, there is evidence in the game to support his claim. Did Om and its lich friend try to stick to criminals? We don't know. But even if they did, that still makes Om equal with the Emperor in that regard. And if they didn't, well, if Om felt like it couldn't stop the lich, maybe it figured this was at least less waste. Or maybe it didn't care either way. The point being, I wouldn't call this any more ethical than what the Emperor has been doing. (I'm not arguing about the ethics of eating brains in general, just that Om's choice is not ethically better than the Emperor's.)

After it tells you about that, Omeluum then ominously says it now eats people who "act against the Society's goals." It even pauses to carefully consider its words, and the words it chooses leave a lot of leeway and room for interpretation. (Such an underrated line and delivery. I love it.) Technically YOU are acting against the Society's goals if you refuse to give the gith egg to Esther, since it's the Society that wants the egg.

Omeluum sees itself as part of illithid-kind in a way the Emperor doesn't, using terms like "we" and "our" when talking about them, even referring to illithids as its ancestors after you tell it about the nautiloid.

Omeluum seems detached and more curious than anything about your problem and the whole situation, at least when you first meet it. But that's speculation, I can't say for sure what it's feeling.

It does however eventually realize that this brain taking over would be a bad thing for the entire plane. Which is in part why it is willing to die in order to save the Duke in the Iron Throne. This makes sense from a ruthlessly pragmatic standpoint---the Duke's life is more important for the city---and pragmatism is a very mind flayer thing (though I still can't imagine a typical mind flayer enthralled to a brain would think another race's life is worth more than its own). Omeluum is willing to risk or sacrifice in some scenarios to achieve its goals. The Emperor is also willing to risk his life in some scenarios to achieve his goals, like going with you directly into battle to fight the brain. Neither wants the Grand Design to actually happen.

And that ring it gives you (or rather makes you pay it for in some form, unless you persuade it otherwise)? It lied about that. But it did so for what it felt was a good reason, just like how the Emperor withholds info and lets you discover some things for yourself, in order to not overwhelm you and make you lose hope.

Ultimately, Omeluum gives you some elixirs or whatever if you save it and then gets out of town and lets someone else deal with the nether brain problem. Om is a scientist, not a fighter. Just like the Emperor is not a scientist and hence isn't trying to create a brain substitute the way Om is. They each have their strengths.

Last but not least (actually it is sort of least), Omeluum won't trade with you unless you do its quest first, which I find more annoying than anything the Emperor does 😅 And it doesn't give you the aforementioned reward until you help it in Act 3. Which wouldn't normally be a valid argument, but people say the Emperor is evil because he won't help you unless you help him. Well, Omeluum won't either.

But I did laugh at these few lines I found, though I'm not entirely sure it was being funny on purpose.

And we don't really know anything about Omeluum beyond that.

Anyway, my point is only that the constant comparison between it and the Emperor with the conclusion that "Omeluum = Good Mind Flayer, Emperor = Bad Mind Flayer" doesn't hold up in any meaningful way and lacks nuance, especially when there's so much misinformation. (If I've gotten any facts wrong, feel free to let me know, I don't want to add to the misinformation.) Neither one is a typical mind flayer, and we can love them both!

[marvelmaniac715]

No but actually I'm insane about how the Master/Missy always interacts with the Doctor. The thing is, I don't think the Master actually knows how to show love, because he was traumatised as a child when he looked into the Time Vortex, and the Academy didn't exactly teach its pupils about compassion, the Doctor was very similar to the Master when he first came to Earth - he had to learn about common decency from Ian and Barbara. The Master was once the Doctor's best friend, back when they were just Theta and Koschei, and he knows he feels strongly about the Doctor but has no clue what to do with those feelings. The Doctor got married, he had kids, in a sense he turned his back on the Master and left for Earth, so the love and loyalty that the Master once felt for him mixed with the heartbreak and betrayal, amplified by the ever-present drums in his head to absolute fury. But still, when he first comes to Earth he does try to communicate with the Doctor, but he can't understand why he's being rejected, he doesn't know what he's done wrong. So he keeps trying, then he stops trying as soon as he regenerates because it's a lost cause, but he never loses his feelings for the Doctor. He probably became more violent as a defence mechanism - lashing out before he can be hurt again. Decades go by, and then he's Professor Yana, and for a brief, shining moment, his relationship with the Doctor is almost functional; they're both happy, they're working together. But it isn't real, because for them, such a peaceful and gentle love could never exist. He never permanently kills the Doctor though, because he can't fathom the concept of a universe where his adversary is dead, and so instead he lays traps and plays mind games, so that the Doctor has to look at him, has to talk to him. Missy tried to be gentle again, as if a new tactic would yield different results, but the previous Master was disgusted with himself for - in his mind - stooping to a new level of desperation when the Doctor would probably never even notice how the Master felt. The Master's love is one of blood and teeth and nails, scratching and maiming, scrambling like a dying man to leave any impact at all on the Doctor. The Timeless Child probably didn't help matters - the Doctor essentially created the Master, and a god does not love their supplicant. They can't communicate with each other because it's been far too long, and they're both broken, the Doctor just hides it better. I just have so many thoughts about these two.

[ryansemporium]

Hey I'd like to add my perspective growing up queer (cis, gay male) during the 2000s in Western Europe.

There was a lot of shame. Especially as a small town boy, there was the very real feeling my family would never accept me. I went through an entire "I'm bi I'm bi I'm bi I can't be gay that would be the worst thing ever, I'm bi" phase.

My country had legal gay marriage (not even just 'civil partnership', actual marriage) by the 2000s. Despite that, mainstream opinion was still that we were a bunch of freaks and fruits. The big tv channels had "lifestyle" segments on gay people that were exoticising, demeaning, and very much "look at how these freaks live".

In true European fashion, anyone who complained was told "well AT LEAST you don't have it as bad as AMERICANS" (see also: racism)

'Don't ask, don't tell' was a thing not just in the US military but in high school as well. Palpable sense of "don't tell me you're gay so I can continue to be civil to you"

When I was out during the last year of high school, a gym teacher asked me "Hm, shouldn't you get changed in the girls' locker room instead?" (On a positive note, several of my straight male classmates immediately shut him down by calmly going "Excuse me? What? What did you say? You can't say that.")

Parties were pretty great. This might be nostalgia talking. There was (is) a semi-government-funded organisation focused on helping queer youth, and they threw parties about once a month. They had an online forum (discontinued only a couple of years ago! I hate the current internet and the Discordification of social online spaces) where I made a lot of friends, some of whom I'm still friends with to this day. Anyway, the parties were fun. I'd take the bus there and dance through the night and make out with people, thinking "are you a boy or a girl? does it matter?"

The internet was WILD. Only freaks were on there. 'Groups' and chatrooms were a big thing. I was in an MSN or Yahoo! group for Final Fantasy VIII yaoi. I made friends there too. We used ICQ messenger and Yahoo! messenger, before MSN messenger was even a thing. I sent and received nudes. Much later I wondered about some of the people I sent nudes too, and how maybe they were not 16 like me but a whole lot older. (And also: I lived. It barely affected me.)

I realised I was gay when I was in some sort of summer camp. Another kid was panicking because he thought he might be gay (he was, and in retrospect it was very obvious.) He'd got the idea from a GOVERNMENT FLYER on "you may be gay (and it's okay)", containing a bulleted list on "Things that indicate you might be gay." ("Masturbating while mainly thinking about people of the same gender as you" was the big one for me)

There were government posters up in libraries about "1 in 10 people are gay, it might be you, and that's okay!" It was... weird but well-meaning, I guess?

9/11 and the Bush Administration and the Afghanistan and Iraq war were... something. Yeah. I think a lot of us forgot that the War on Terror was a semi-religious war against islam. I know I forgot how big a role Bush's born-again christian thing played in it all until I saw some clips of his "God bless America" and "If you aren't with us you're against us" and it all came rushing back.

Chick-Fil-A being homophobic was a thing back then too. Back then straight people didn't care either. It's kinda funny how that came back up again recently.

Cultural imperialism is a thing. As a kid in Europe you get inundated in American tv shows and movies, whether you want to or not, and there's no telling what will stick. My mom and sister were really into Seventh Heaven, a shitty religious / evangelical Aaron Spelling show. I was really into South Park. I feel this has only gotten worse now that the entire Internet has narrowed down to five American-owned mega-sites.

At the same time, there was a sense of pride that most European countries didn't blindly go along with what Bush and Cheney and Powell were trying to sell about "Saddam's weapons of mass destruction". The whole "freedom fries" debacle was the first time me and many of my peers realised America is a deeply unserious nation.

The internet was a lot better, though.

…I’m asking this as a younger queer person who was busy with other things during the 2000s (namely being a toddler/very young child)…what was being queer teen in the early 2000s like? Also, before I go interrogate the first willing 40 year old I find at the LGBT Center…do you know of any books or articles about this time period?

it was a lot of being forced through abstinence only sex education, getting hate crimed, being super eating disordered and that being completely normalized and even considered healthy, having classmates die of a mix of eating disorders & drug use, rampant teen pregnancy, both teachers and students getting into fistfights, being sexually harassed literally all the time, the one trans kid having to take school online so he wouldnt kill himself, 25 year olds hanging out around the school giving girls cigarettes and sexually assaulting them, working a part time job at the mall for 5.50 an hour then driving home to find your mom watching bill oreilly ranting about how people like you are evil and disgusting and next thing jeff dunhams on the tv doing jokes about dead muslims. cant tell you just how ambient and everywhere both violent homophobia and rape culture were like it was omnipresent. lotta slurs too. lots of teens getting black out drunk all the time and puking and getting into situations. what resistance to the wars i got to see in my small ish city was a few rallies of a few dozen people and some protest signs tied to highway overpasses, but otherwise american flags and jingoistic propaganda were everywhereeeee, on every minivan window and classroom etc. nobody spoke up for gay people that wasnt gay and everybody hated women and were so so anti black

the internet was a lot better though.

[bakuchrome]

Through my window

Katsuki Bakugo × Reader

Master List

Sypnosis: You have a deep infatuation for you hotheaded classmate Katsuki Bakugo that he may be secretly aware of

In the city of Musutafu, Japan, with a population of 50,000, most people, myself included, aspire to be heroes. UA, a prestigious school with an acceptance rate of less than 1%, was a challenge that i mamaged to overcome. Remarkably, another studeny there is Katsuki Bakugo.

Bakugo was more than just a classmate; he was an obsession.

You, a fellow student in Class 1-A, had been infatuated with Bakugo since the first day you laid eyes on him. His intense determination, raw power, and undeniable charisma drew you in like a moth to a flame. Every glance, every smirk, every explosive display of his quirk only deepened your fascination. You found yourself watching him from afar, memorizing his every move, and even keeping a journal of your observations. It was a secret you kept hidden, convinced that no one, especially Bakugo, could ever know.

But Bakugo was more perceptive than you realized. He had noticed your lingering gazes, the way you seemed to be everywhere he was, and the subtle changes in your behavior when he was around. He found it amusing, even flattering in a way, though he would never admit it. Instead, he chose to play along, pretending not to notice while secretly enjoying the effect he had on you. He would catch your eye in the hallway and smirk, knowing it would send your heart racing. He would stand just a little too close during training, relishing the way you would stumble over your words. It was a game to him, one that he was determined to win.

One morning, however, you didn't show up to school. Bakugo noticed immediately, his usual smirk replaced by a frown. He couldn't help but wonder what had happened. Were you sick? Had something happened to you? The day dragged on, each class feeling longer than the last. By the time school was over, Bakugo had made up his mind. He was going to find out what was going on.

As night fell, Bakugo found himself standing outside your bedroom window. He knew it was risky, but his curiosity and concern outweighed his caution. With a quick glance around to make sure no one was watching, he used his quirk to propel himself up to your window. He tapped on the glass lightly, waiting for a response. When none came, he tried again, a little louder this time.

You were lying in bed, feeling miserable. A nasty cold had kept you home, and you had spent the day feeling sorry for yourself. The last thing you expected was to hear a tapping at your window. Groggily, you got up and walked over, your heart skipping a beat when you saw who it was. Bakugo stood there, his usual confident smirk in place, as if he had every right to be there.

You hesitated for a moment before opening the window. "Bakugo? What are you doing here?"

He shrugged nonchalantly, climbing inside. "You weren't at school today. Thought I'd check on you."

Your heart raced at his words. He had noticed your absence? "I'm just sick. It's nothing serious."

Bakugo raised an eyebrow, his eyes scanning your room. "You sure about that? You look like crap."

You couldn't help but laugh, despite your embarrassment. "Thanks. I feel like crap too."

He smirked, taking a seat on the edge of your bed. "Well, I can't have my number one fan feeling like crap, can I?"

Your face turned bright red at his words. "I-I don't know what you're talking about."

Bakugo leaned in closer, his eyes locking onto yours. "Oh, I think you do. I've seen the way you look at me. You think I haven't noticed?"

Your breath caught in your throat. He knew. He had known all along. "I... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

He cut you off with a chuckle. "Relax. I don't mind. In fact, I kind of like it."

Your eyes widened in surprise. "You do?"

Bakugo nodded, his smirk softening into a genuine smile. "Yeah. It's kind of cute, actually."

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Bakugo Katsuki, the boy you had been infatuated with for so long, was sitting in your room, telling you that he liked your attention. It felt like a dream.

He reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. "But next time, don't just disappear on me, got it? If you're sick, tell me. I'll come take care of you."

Your heart swelled at his words. "Okay. I promise."

Bakugo leaned in, his lips brushing against your forehead in a gentle kiss. "Good. Now get some rest. I'll see you at school tomorrow."

As he climbed back out the window, you couldn't help but smile.

"Holy shit." You spoke to yourself. Stunned by the fact Katsuki Bakugo was just in you bedroom.

▶︎˖𓍢 ✧˚.🎀

[tuyo-truly]

Remember that post about men love differently or smth like that??? the one is which the person's dad became a shoemaker because their grandmother was buried without shoes.

ya, let's talk about mxtx men

Jiang Cheng keeping wei wuxian's flute all this time. Lemme rephrase that, Jiang Cheng keeping wwx's flute POLISHED all this time. Jiang Cheng not believing wwx died and thus torturing any demonic cultivator he saw to make them confess that they are wwx? Like he just never processed his grief because in his head his silly powerful brother never died

Lan Wangji raising a whole ass child???? in remembrance of wwx??? I think no one ever actually admits in the novel how loved wwx was after all yk. like dude died alone, but the grief literally painted the blue gusu white.

Binghe keeping his Shizun's dead body???? i'm sorry?? Achilles and Patroculus much. next thing you know they are mingling their ashes.

And talk about ashes, *cracks fingers* our very own ghost king Hua Cheng! Bro died. Not once. Not twice. THRICE. without REGRET. He can do it again but is forbidden, but can do it again without HESISTATION. it's just tuesday for him at this point. He waited 800 years. Learned about everything to every exist incase he ever became the guy who helps the main character during quests to his God. He literally killed GODS???

And then last but not the least Your Highness Xie Lian. Anyone ever thought that his cultivator clothes are the only thing that he has that is left of xianle? The hat he carries aka the only love/humanity/hope he could find when was just about to give up. emphasis on FIND. because he consciously made that decision to wait. And don't get me started on Wu ming. Please don't, i'll cry. hualian is literally the embodiment of what healthy love looks like. (except the dying and torture ykiyk) the communication, the support, the sitting between hua cheng's thigh's to teach him calligraphy, the spiritual energy exchanges. i love them so much.

Oh, and there's also Shi wudu ruining he xuan's life so that his brother could ascend with him.

[getaapologist]

The Tension and the Terror............Part XV

Pairing: Emperor Geta x OFC (extremely loosely, character is named but otherwise not described besides hair length)

Summary: The chaos surrounding the death of Macrinus keeps Letha and Geta apart much longer than either of them expected. Geta has an urgent question for Letha.

Warnings: make-up sex, and a shitty understanding of ancient Roman procedures around rule, 18+ only.

Word Count: 3.6k

Part 15 of 15!

[ Part XIV ]

Series Masterlist

A/N: I would like to preface this by saying thank you for reading this self-indulgent slop. I hope you got some small amount of enjoyment out of it. Your comments along the way kept me engaged enough to actually finish this. It's the first thing I've ever started writing that I actually feel like I finished. There's so much I could've added to this post-reunion that this would've never been done. I could always embellish at a later date if anyone wanted it. I'm also a bit sad to finish this because I don't have anything to look forward to now. Thank you for your time and attention. It means a lot.

Also, mea lux is 'my light' I believe.

Almost two weeks passed before Letha laid eyes on Geta again.

It was prevented by a combination of things. There had been so much to deal with after the incident in the gardens. Geta had been embroiled in meetings, debating things Letha wasn’t privy to. There was a ceremony for Ancus, to honor him for his efforts to protect his Emperors. And at every party, everyone was so desperate to show face to their Emperors, to remind them of their loyalty in wake of the exposure of Macrinus’s plot. 

Though she wasn’t invited to any official meetings or ceremonies, there were situations where she could’ve sought Geta out at these fetes and events. But she didn’t. She was scared to have that conversation that needed to happen. 

She knew she was still treated as a guest in the palace. More like a fixture, really, available to distract Caracalla whenever the burden of rule grew too tiresome with more poetry, read under the shade of a tree in the gardens, Ancus always nearby. But aside from that, she felt quite restless. 

It’s not as if she expected things to go back to how they were, but she didn’t think it would be this hard to put her thoughts together. Leaving the gardens that evening, neck still sore, she was imagining how she’d look over at Geta the next morning and fervently apologize, for all of it. She’d tell him she would understand if he sent her away, and he would assure her that he wouldn’t dream of it.

But the next morning she couldn’t leave her bed, paralyzed by this new fear. She’d gotten a chance to see what her relationship with Geta could be, she didn’t know what she would do if it was not that. And the possibilities he’d promised her most certainly couldn’t and wouldn’t happen anymore. She stewed in the hesitance, the uncertainty, until she became convinced that it absolutely would be different. No matter what different meant, she was sure it wouldn’t be good.

And so it continued, Letha skipping mealtimes that used to be routine, bumping into servants gossiping on her way into the kitchens to eat. Occasionally she heard her name on their tongues, her appearance causing them to freeze as if Letha were Medusa herself. Not wanting to make a scene, she’d just duck right back out, resolving to return later.

Caracalla assured her his brother was just being kept very, very busy in the wake of the subterfuge and death of Macrinus, but she couldn’t help but feel like it was a little intentional. 

What did you expect, honestly?

She didn’t know why she was still allowed to wander the palace, as if she were back to being a guest. There were no guards posted outside her room, and for the last week she spent her evenings in the gardens, observing the moon, asking no one in particular what happens next.

She wasn’t naive, she knew Tegula didn’t trust her. And nothing spread faster than a salacious rumor. They weren’t so foolish as to speak poorly of their Emperor, so they resorted to tarnishing her reputation instead. She was a witch, had steered Macrinus to his end, was desperate to attach herself to the divinity the Emperors were entitled to.

It was ridiculous. If she had such powers, she sure wouldn’t have suffered all this. 

It was all just more fuel for her suppositions, perpetuating her unhappy cycle until she felt like it would be better if she just snuck out one night. She could become a ghost story. But against all odds, she still carried hope that the next day would be different. 

As for Geta, well, Geta was trying to prevent an economic collapse. Some part of him thought Letha might think poorly of him if he let the empire fall around them because he would rather be locked up in his rooms, curled up in her. Because that was what he wanted. But he had a duty, a responsibility to steer this monstrous empire in a direction he could have heirs in. Perhaps the danger had put things into perspective.

Listening to the senators describe just how involved Macrinus had been in arming their voracious armies became more and more painful as they dove into the minutiae of complex accounts and processes he never bothered to pay attention to before. It was overwhelming. But he knew their efforts were working. Still, there were moments where he’d trade it all for those eyes on him again. 

What little free time he had was spent trying to avoid Letha, because he needed hours, days, uninterrupted, for him to spill his heart to her. A few minutes here and there wouldn’t be enough to relay any of the complex emotions he felt. He couldn’t avoid her forever, though, because there was a certain conversation that had to happen. He needed to know where he stood with her before he picked a particular path to tread down.

So that was why he stalked the gardens that evening, waiting for her to appear for her nightly stargazing. And as he watched her spread out the emerald-dyed linen on the grass, he felt calm. Almost peaceful. He let himself forget the weight of all that had happened, the guilt, too. Everything they’d all been through. 

Well, not everything.

“You should have run far away from here,” Geta spoke, disturbing her peace. 

Letha looked over her shoulder, her breath held in her lungs as she appraised him. It almost felt like the first time. The first time she saw him and admitted against her better judgment that he was beautiful.

The moonlight glinted off the laurels and the golden chestplate he still wore, though the ceremony had long been over. His hair was shiny, neat, framing his fair face. His deep, dark eyes, still lined in crimson, were locked on her.

He looked close to divine standing there in the golden armor, easily one of the most opulent things she’d ever seen. He somehow looked taller, broader, in the armor. Untouchable, too. 

It was so late in the evening, he should’ve changed. He should be in bed. Anywhere but here.

No more hiding. 

“I was locked in a cell, I wasn’t running anywhere.”

He surprised her by sitting beside her on the blanket, the ceremonial armor quite uncomfortable to lay down in. He kept his arms slung around his knees, the bindings of the tall sandals flexing over his shins as he joined her in staring up at the large moon.

“What about after?” After Macrinus. “You’ve had no chaperone for well over a week now.”

Letha felt her stomach twist. “I’ve thought about it.”

“But?” Geta supplied, turning his head away from the splendor of the night sky to peer down at her where she laid out beside him. A challenger to the celestial might hanging above.

“You know there would be no point.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I do?”

She rolled her eyes, a treasonous activity if done by any other, but it filled Geta with warmth, bringing the beginnings of a smile to his lips. It all felt so familiar.

“There’s something that is keeping me here. Besides the fact I wouldn’t last a day out there with nowhere to go.”

“I dared to hope,” he admitted, taking her own admission and shoving it into the cracks that were slowly mending, a makeshift mortar.

She looked over at him, a line forming between her brows as she studied him, thinking very hard about what to say next. He reached down with a finger, gently pressing at the center of her brows, pushing away the line.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted out, the pressure of his closeness becoming overwhelming. 

“No,” he shook his head, moving his finger lower to press to her lips, silencing any further unnecessary apologies. “It is forgiven.”

Letha felt relief, could feel a tear forming at the corner of her eye. But she didn’t want to cry, not now. She recalled her apology muttered into his hair that day. He’d told her ‘no’ then too. 

“Do you still care for me?” he asked, his voice low.

“Of course I do,” she whispered, feeling the tear slide down the side of her face. 

He noticed it, moving his fingertip to wipe away the trail before resting his hand on the ground beside her head. He licked his lips, staring at her, all his weight bearing down, as if daring himself to collapse onto her. 

As much as he might have enjoyed frolicking beneath the stars, removing this armor was not a graceful job, even for two. 

“I want to show you something.” He pushed off the ground and sat up, the haze of him dispersed. She made herself sit up, kept her eyes on him as he stood up. He could feel a swarm of bees in his stomach moving angrily as he held a hand out for her to help her to her feet.

There was a split second of indecision and he nearly faltered, but her tight grip on his hand was a balm, immediately settling his nerves. As she leaned down to gather up the blanket, he tugged her hand, urging her to leave it. 

Geta  lifted the small chest off his desk and carried it over to where Letha sat on the side of the chaise in his room. It sank into the plush seat and she looked up at him, surprised. 

“It’s quite heavy.”

“I can manage just fine,” he smiled, his teasing tone returning.

It was so easy to get caught up in his magnetism. She wondered if he knew he possessed such a thing.

“Go on,” he urged. “Open it.”

She obeyed, pushing up the lid, exposing a rich ruby interior, the box created to house this one ornate bauble. Laurels, golden and sparkling. There were small, dazzling red gems hidden among the leaves here and there.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, reaching in to run a finger along one of the gilded leaves. “Seems a bit small for you,” she admitted.

“It is,” he confirmed. 

“Well I think Caracalla will love it,” she smiled, lowering the lid. “It’s a thoughtful gift.”

Geta reached down, pulling it back open. There was a look in her eyes that gave him pause, all the smiles and teasing forgotten. As if she knew already what he was about to say. To ask.

“It’s not for my brother.”

His words sent an icy chill down the center of her back, forcing her to sit up a bit straighter. He was already moving away, pacing.

“I have been busy, Letha,” he admitted. “I’ve spent more time with the senators than I can possibly stand. And in exchange for those long hours, I got this.”

“Geta, I—”

“Don’t feel like you need to say yes right now. Just promise me you will think on it. I know these last couple of weeks have been difficult, we’ve had a hell of a time trying to navigate—”

Letha stood and walked over to him as he rambled. She reached up and curled her fingers around the collar of the chestplate, pulling him down by it, pressing her lips to his. 

Geta recognized the action immediately, bringing one of his hands up to cover hers where she held the armor, moaning against her lips. He pulled her in by the small of her back with his free hand. Her necklace clattered against the metal plate until it was muffled by the press of her against him. 

He could not get near enough air into his lungs. He felt dizzy, incoherent, his blood at once diluted but also thickened, leaving his limbs feeling heavy with a honeyed sludge passing through his veins. The pressure of her hauling him down to her eager mouth by the bronze plate persisted in his brain, in his gut, and he suspected he would relive it for the rest of time. 

“Letha,” he breathed, his palm pressing to her heated cheek. “You can take time,” he offered, though he would be lying if he said he was satisfied with this and nothing more.

“I’ve taken it,” she replied quickly, releasing the armor. 

Before the dissatisfaction crept in, he felt her fingers at his side, brushing the underside of his arm that he immediately lifted. She worked at the buckle, pulling the leather free before moving down to the woven golden string keeping both halves together. 

Once his brain caught up to hers, he pulled at the cords holding the pauldrons over his shoulders, the both of them picking up speed as an unspoken sense of urgency grew in the silence. It all hit the floor with a loud clattering, the pteruges joining it not long after. 

Free from the weight of the heavy armor, Geta reached for Letha’s neck, pulling her into him, groaning against her lips as he attempted to make up for lost time.

As he held her, he realized she was working herself out of her dress. It was bunched up on her shoulders by the time he looked down. The next chance she got, the two of them needing air, she threw it off over her head. 

“I would have gotten to that,” he breathed, allowing himself to look her over. 

“Like I said, I’ve taken it.” she spoke with intention. He felt it low in his belly.

She got to spend only a moment more on her feet before he collected her in his arms and carried her to the bed. She let out a laugh as she sank into the plush arrangement of silks and pillows. He stared down at her, feeling that blooming of warmth in his chest that only she gave him.

 “What are you waiting for?”

As the words left her lips, Geta threw off the white tunic and joined her, crawling up her body to seal his lips to hers, finally allowing the weight of him to press her down into the bed. He had missed this. Her skin, already hot beneath his hands, her movements only drawing him in further, seeking his touch, his lips.

It had been a long couple of weeks.

He felt her bring a leg up around his hip and he reached for it, fingers digging into her thigh as he rutted against her. The ragged moan that left his throat said more about his desperation than anything else.

The tension in his arm trying to hold him up off of her was too much to ignore. He turned onto his side, clinging to her thigh, slowly bringing her with him until he was on his back. As she settled in this new position, she looked down where they met, a bashful smile on her face.

He couldn’t deny the wonder that overtook him at the sight of her above him, the way her mussed hair hung around her face, a few strands now loose. She was radiant, even in the night. Her nervous smile took hold in his chest, and he knew then that he would make it his goal to continue to find ways to draw that same smile from her. 

“I missed you,” she admitted, eyes cast down to the expanse of his torso beneath her hands. “I thought we might never…”

“Letha, you possess me.” Her eyes widened, her body frozen in his hands. “I think that was why it hurt so much to be separated from you.” He shifted his hips, forcing heat into her cheeks. “And I owe you an apology.”

“It is forgiven,” she insisted.

He shot her a look. “I could have lost you. It was cruel and impulsive.”

“We are fortunate your brother had the good sense to intervene, then.”

“Please, do not speak of my brother right now,” he pleaded, squeezing her thighs. 

She laughed at him, covering his hands with hers. “Let me distract you,” she offered, bringing his hands up higher, his fingers skimming her belly before she pressed his palms into her breasts.

“So beautiful,” he whispered, his hands squeezing her soft skin. 

She ground herself down on him, using him, the sight filling him with desire for her. How he ever got pleasure from anyone else, he could never know. This was all he ever needed. He could only thank the gods, the fates, whoever brought her to him. 

She surprised him as she swung her leg over him, leaving him there in the bed, a pathetic whine leaving his throat as the air hit his slick-wet cock.

Letha felt a bit unsteady on her feet as she walked through his room. She was ready to show him that she would take on the mantle, the responsibility of keeping him sated and happy. 

Possessed him? She would never get over it. 

She found the chest and lifted the lid, reaching down for the delicate crown. Even in the dim light it sparkled. Her prize in hand, she set it on her head and nearly sprinted back to Geta.

He still laid in the middle of his bed, a vision of long limbs and pale flesh. At the sound of her feet padding on the floor he craned his neck, his large brown eyes passing over her, lingering on her head, where the crown sat precariously.

His full lips parted in a grin. “Eager to fulfill your duty, Empress?” he questioned, his voice low with desire. He held his hands out for her, helping her return to her place astride his hips. 

“Do you like it?” she asked a bit bashfully, her hands leaving his to steady the crown in her hair.

He let out a deep breath. “Mea lux,” he smiled, reaching up to pull her down to his chest, “you spoil me.” He stole a kiss from her lips before he reached up to adjust the crown so it would sit more securely on her head. She leaned into every touch, relishing the sensation of his large hands on her skin, skimming, gripping, squeezing.

She was so overwhelmed by him that she didn’t notice him preparing to shove into her, her only warning a quick swipe of him through her slick. They let out matching sighs as he filled her, like this was all they needed. Letha sat up, a hand pressed against his abdomen for support as she reacclimated to him. 

“W-What exactly are the duties of an Empress, Geta?” she asked. His hips snapping up forcing a wanton moan to leave her lips. 

His flush extended from his face and ears down to his chest. “Besides the obvious?”

She nodded, shifting her hips, moving on instinct, eager for relief. 

He grunted, letting his head fall back. “Well,” he began, bucking his own hips up slightly to reward her. “You will sit with me in all the boring meetings. We will suffer together.” 

“Mhmm,” she moaned, nodding. “I can do that.”

“You will advise me, keep me in line,” he grunted. “Tell me when I’m being a fool.”

“I will relish every chance I get,” she grinned, chasing her pleasure.

“Don’t look so excited,” he chuckled, biting his lip. 

She felt her thighs burning, but she didn’t dare stop, the coil pulling ever tighter. “What else?”

“You will guard my heart, Letha,” he breathed, his eyes meeting hers.

Her hips stilled. 

Geta flipped them, bringing his face down to hers. She ran her hands up his sides, over his shoulders, tangling in his hair as he kissed her. She relaxed beneath him, her legs wrapping around his hips as he drove into her at a steady pace. 

“Can you do that?” he asked, meeting her eyes. 

“Haven’t I been already?” 

He blinked down at her, absorbing her words. “I love you.”

“I love you,” she echoed, pulling his face down to hers.

In the kiss, he quickened his pace. She felt like she was falling apart in his hands, unable to form more words. He reached down between them, his fingers finding home in the apex of her thighs, his nose brushing against hers as he urged her to her release.

She clung to him desperately, choked gasps leaving her throat as he pressed his lips against it. She clenched around him, the coil finally snapping and giving way for her hard-earned release. He pushed her through it, her hands squeezing his hips in an effort to slow him down, too sensitive. 

He sat up, pulling her to him by her hips, grunting as he pounded into her.

“Is giving you an heir part of my duties as well?”

He laughed. “Not a requirement, but–” He cut himself off, burying himself in her as he fell on top of her, pulsing into her. “–a perk.”

He settled on top of her, his lips pressing to hers before he buried his face in the side of her neck. She held him close, running fingers up and down his back, enjoying the warmth of him despite all the sweat. 

“I would stay like this forever,” she sighed, trying to fight off the exhaustion she felt. The last thing she wanted to do was sleep now that she had him back.

“I have no pressing business for two days, mea lux. You’re not leaving this room,” he spoke into her skin. “And when we do, we will be wed.”

She felt nervous, but optimistic. “Should we not have waited until after for this then?”

He lifted his head, his warm eyes settling on hers. Full of love and mirth. “Oh, no, dear Letha. I believe you said you have already taken your time to think,” he winked, “and I would not deprive my Empress of anything.”

[ fin ]

Thank you for reading!

[wisteriasymphony]

Chloe had knocked over Marinette's tray at lunch earlier that day. It wasn't anything new, just like the way Chloe had started making oinking noises to Sabrina when Marinette had bent down to clean it up. Or like the way Chloe had said that Marinette didn't really need the extra calories, so she was actually helping her after all.

Lucky Lucky Ladybug kept replaying the scene in her mind, over and over, thinking about just how stupid Chloe would've felt if Tikki had let Marinette transform and give Chloe a talking-to as Ladybug. She had woven the string of her yo-yo between her fingers into a cat's cradle, and every time her hands would stretch apart, the yo-yo would spin on its track. Then she'd bring her hands back together to catch the yo-yo mid spin, the metal body clacking against the bones in her hands. Spin, then clack. Spin, clack. Spin, clack.

Chat Noir had been talking for the past few minutes, but Ladybug never bothered to listen to him anymore. He had probably just made one of his awful puns again, based on the way he started stammering.

"Oh, uh, s-so the joke is that it's a play on the word—" "Have you ever thought that maybe, if you have to explain all of your jokes, you're not funny?" Chat Noir got quiet, his shoulders falling. Ladybug kept her eyes on her yo-yo. "I'm sorry, milady," Chat Noir apologized. "I just assumed you didn't understand the punchline." "Maybe you should come up with jokes other people understand then. That way people might actually laugh at them." Spin, clack. Spin, clack. Ladybug kept imagining Chloe's face, with her pale blue eyeshadow and her cakey makeup.

Chat Noir started to twist his fingers together, the claws on his thumbs digging into his gloved hands. It wasn't anything new—people having little patience with him, that is. His father had gotten him used to it by now. Chat Noir knew that the right thing to do in such situations was just to acquiesce, and that when you acquiesced people liked you more for it. "I noticed you and Rena were on television the other day. How did that go?" Ladybug hunched over herself, scoffing as she wound the string of her yo-yo tighter around her fingers. She had started bring Renared to press conferences and fan meetups because she could trust that Alya wouldn't act like an idiot or say stupid things. Alya was a good friend like that, willing to pick up Chat Noir's slack. Plus, doing things with Rena instead meant that Marinette and Alya could hang out for the rest of the day, and Marinette would actually enjoy herself. Doing anything of that with Chat Noir... would mean she'd be hanging out with Chat Noir. Bad pickup lines and worse jokes included.

"It was fine," Ladybug huffed, rolling her eyes. "Why do you even care?" "Oh- well, uhm. You just used to take me, and I was wondering if you had a reason that you... well... stopped."

One time during an interview, Chat Noir had derailed the entire conversation talking about the intricacies of whether or not their group of holders counted more as a religious or a political organization, entirely unaware that nobody could even begin to care about such a thing. Spin, clack. Spin, clack.

Ladybug thought about the way Chloe's face had scrunched up when she oinked at Marinette. Ladybug thought of Chat Noir's stupid awkward stammer. Ladybug thought about having to admit to her mother that her grades were getting worse.

Ladybug trapped the yo-yo in her hands for the last time, almost trying to crush it.

"It's because she's better at it than you, and I like you better when I don't have to hear you talk. Does that make you happy?!"

Chat Noir almost answered—No, actually, knowing that people didn't like hearing him talk didn't make him happy at all. But he'd learned by now that when Ladybug asked him questions like that, she wasn't actually asking and a response would only make her angrier.

"I'm sorry. I'll talk less, milady."

"I told you to stop calling me that."

"...I'm sorry."

Maybe Chloe could pick on Chat Noir for a change. He deserved it more than she did.

[st4ytiny]

Cause I don't wanna be in love with another, even in another life

AN: I'm having ateez and stray kids brainrot rn. Rewatching all of skz code and wanteez... LORDDDD IM LEGIT SOBBING I LOVE THEM ALL <33333

Mentions of soft San, fluff with a sligth slice of angst and implied nsfw. Mostly teeth rotting fluff, self indulgent (sorry not sorry)

Sannie who is the kindest guy you've ever met. Many think he's tough and mean, but once you get to know him a bit more, he's actually just a ball of sunshine. He's warm, comforting, gentle, nurturing and healing. Somehow he always has something to say no matter your problem. He has the most gentle touches. Jokes and laughter is also a big part of your time together. He enjoys having his hair played with while he reads. Head in your lap while you do random stuff.

Sannie who loves poetry and loves writing for you. Even if he doesn't have the courage to show it to you. I feel like he's the type of boyfriend to leave you notes around the house with words he can't say in person. The type of boyfriend to crush on his partner, who goes above and beyond to make you feel better if life is shitty atm. He enjoys being your safe haven and feels safe being with you. The boyfriend who can't handle alcohol so whenever you two are out, at an event or dinner with his group, he ends up taking care of you. If he is drinking I have a feeling he's gonna end up in your lap, clinging onto you for dear life. (I feel like he cries alot when he's drunk? THAT ONE TIME HE GOT SCARED BY THE MEMBERS IN THAT WANTEEZ EP. AND CRIED. I LITERALLY SOBBED, MY SANNIE)

Sannie who needs a stong bond to the people he surrounds himself with. I feel like he's attracted to individuals who are older than him. Preferably if you enjoy working out, being outside or is a bit of a nerd. Love has no boundraries for him though. He likes feeling like he's stronger than you, just because he likes being protective. Even though you both know who's gonna be ordering for you two. He is the type of guy to act intimidating if someone approaches you when you're on a date. Then afterwards he's gonna be like "Woah, did I look intimidating just now?", "Woah, Hyung/Noona didn't I look totally badass?" (SOBBING I NEED A BF LIKE HIM, SORRY THIS IS SO SELF INDULGENT)

Sannie who loves being praised for small things. He thives of being helpful for you. ESPECIALLY IF HE IS TALLER THAN YOU. He enjoys watching you while doing the most mundane things. He enjoys the smell that your parfume leaves in the bathroom, or the fog on the mirror. He enjoys seing your favorite colour next to his favorite colour when he's out shopping. Sends you pictures of it with "This is us" attatched to it. I don't feel like gift giving is is biggest love language. BUT i do think he's the type of guy to give you a pretty rock because he thought about you when he saw it.

Sannie who gets stressed and insecure easily. Reassurance is important in your relationship. As well as gentle reminders that you think he is the awesomest. Joking around with him when he's stressed is something that makes him let go of the tension in his shoulders. He loves just sinking into your warm touches at the end of the day. When he's touring or busy, he forces wooyoung to cuddle him while he wants to cry because you're not there. If you're an idol aswell, i believe San would cheer you on alot. He'd be so proud whenever he saw you absolutely devour the stage. You two might also write lyrics/poetry together.

Sannie who can be rough when it comes to being intimate. But when he's stressed, exhausted, sad or insecure, he definatly enjoys you being soft, praising him and a tiny bit of body worship. He likes having his hair played with and i have a feeling that his some of his sweet spots are his arms, neck and thighs/calfs?? I don't know. He likes recieving but also giving. Definatly soft dom leaning though.

Songs I listened to DIMPLE - BTS, HURT - NEW JEANS, HEAVY - THE MARIAS, VAMPIRE EMPIRE - BIG THIEF, HEAVENLY - C.A.S

[mystic-myrtille]

"Imagine if a character did a bad thing, the fandom would be so mad and bash them!" ... yeah no shit?

Sorry, I'm not trying to be rude, but have you seen the salt tag these past days? It's filled to the brim with Marinette salt and bashing and whatnot. Last week I blocked 5 people because they made a bunch of posts about how Marinette is the worst person ever and I was getting tired of it. There's even a whole community dedicated to salting/critizising Marinette. People are angry at how weird she was about Sublime, how she broke Adrien's ring and probably poofed him out of existence (or not since Astruc said something about Adriens amok being fine because LB didn't intend to free the amok... idk makes no sense lore-wise), how she tried to mix a friends movie night with a romantic date yada yada. We don't need roles reversing, we see the fandom's reaction.

Everyone and their mothers fucking complain about how she sucks.

It's everywhere.

And it's not like I don't understand where this is coming from, her portrayal this season is... yeah... you've probably seen it yourself. It's bad.

Meanwhile Adrien didn't do anything this season, he just stands around, is all lovey dovey around Marinette and apparently doesn't make any mistakes in the relationship ever. He's just crazy chill about it. Like... there's clearly a bias here. Why does Adrien know how to act in a relationship but Marinette doesn't? Why does Marinette always have to be the butt of the joke because she doesn't know what she's doing, and Adrien isn't? Why isn't this season about both of them doing small mistakes and finding out together how to handle their relationship instead of just one person doing the most unhinged shit ever while the other is suddenly a relationship expert? Wouldn't that be nicer and a good way to bring the two to grow closer and ultimately become better people and a stronger couple as a result?

This is the point of the post and I really don't see how bringing a gender-reverse discussion into this is supposed to help. If Marinette acts stupid she gets salted on. If Adrien acts stupid he gets salted on. If both act stupid both will probably get salted on. It's always been like this in the fandom.

The new season just reinforces what the writing is like for thew whole show: Marinette makes a mistake in every episode, no matter how cringe or ooc or unlogical it is, and Adrien is just too damn perfect and every flaw he might have is actually the world around him being flawed (which I think is also the reason he doesn't do much in general. If a character doesn't do things, he can't do them wrong lmao).

But if we really wanna bring gender in, here's a take: If Mari was a guy the writers wouldn't make him/her act this way in the first place.

Marinette being the one making all the mistakes in their relationship so far is kinda notttttttt giving me the best vibesssssss