#but i think it will be from a personal direction

[fishnapple]

Things people secretly find attractive about you

This reading is about the hidden thoughts of people, about what they secretly find attractive about you. This is entirely subjective, some of these can seem questionable or hard to understand but the human psyche is complex, the root of attraction can lie in unexpected places.

This is a general reading meant for multiple people. Take only what resonates and leave out the rest.

Your feedback is much appreciated. If you find the reading resonated with you, leave a comment, I’d love to know 🎐

About me | Masterpost Book a reading with me - KO-FI (→ personal reading)

ONE

Some of the people who find you attractive might have a saviour mentality and a serious personality, they gravitate towards someone who they think is in trouble, sad about life or is a little impractical. I'm not saying that you have these traits, but those people seem to pick up some of your behaviours as signs of these traits.

Some people perceive you as outspoken, you have no trouble saying what's on your mind, your words are direct and to the point, they carry force in them. This can seem aggressive to them. But this is not the kind of being attracted to something strong but more like being attracted to the hidden weakness behind that strong exterior. They think that behind your assertive demeanour is someone insecure, someone who hasn't found their footing in the world yet. They are attracted to that thought, the thought that you're trying to put up a front, trying to be brave. This makes them curious and want to see the insecurities that you're hiding, and to do what? They would want to guide you, they think you need someone to act as a teacher to you, someone you can look up to, and they want to be that person.

Your voice is also attractive to some ears, your choice of words is extensive and have a poetic touch to it. Or you don't talk much and some people find that attractive, they feel that you leave space for others to talk and express and you're not judgmental about it. Some will like having deep philosophical discussions with you. You also have different and unique hobbies and whenever you talk about them, you seem so animated and excited, an intense passion can be felt, and that makes people gravitate towards you like moth to flame.

Some people also feel that you can be quite naive or impractical sometimes, they find this endearing, like seeing someone being protected from the harsh reality of this world. They might project a part of themselves on you. Some of them could have experienced a difficult childhood that didn't give much space for them to be carefree or feel protected. So they look at you and see these traits that remind them of a distant longing for a better childhood.

The idea of being in a relationship with you will seem easy and natural. It's easy to imagine themselves taking care of you and having your attention to themselves. Your attention and affection are elusive and people want to catch a hold of these. Some will want to quickly jump in a connection with you, it would get intense very fast and burn quickly, attraction at first sight is very likely, this is not just about romantic attraction but also includes platonic attraction.

TWO

I think people would immediately feel a sense of power coming from you, much like how our skin warming up when we are around a fire. This kind of powerful energy is dynamic, all-encompassing, intense, generous and bountiful. This attraction that people have towards you is not that secretive, some might feel reluctant to show it or talk about it openly because they feel respectful towards you, they can feel a little intimidated and will just silently watch you, occasionally drop a few compliments when they are feeling brave enough. You know how sometimes people see someone so amazing and awesome but keep their distance and not express appreciation for them, for fear of stating the obvious, they would think that this person probably gets a lot of compliments everyday already so they won't be bothered with them? Some people are like that towards you.

Some people will quietly admire your daring and sometimes reckless spirit, the word daredevil comes to mind, with it comes the attitude of an adventurer. You are so brave and explosive, always ready to explore new horizons, always know how to have fun. Timid and quiet people might secretly find these traits so attractive about you but also feel that you are a little dangerous or too forceful for them. It's not physical violence but it's the speed of you doing things, the energy you put in every action, they feel like they can't quite keep up with that. But it's sexy to them. It's intense and it can bring both order and chaos to wherever you go. This energy is like electricity, it can evoke wild reactions in people.

You smile and laugh a lot? People find your smile and the sound of your laughter attractive, it's warm and contagious. You don't just laugh a lot, you also make people laugh a lot, they like your humour, it's carefree, jovial, sometimes it comes as exaggerated boasting, sometimes it's ridiculous, sometimes it's so humble. It shows a healthy ego with enough boundaries and respect. They can see your humbleness as a sign of strength, you're so confident in yourself and so strong that you allow yourself to be soft and be a fool to elevate people's spirits.

Others will be secretly attracted to your intelligence and wisdom. You seem like someone whom they can look up to and learn from. Younger people really like you, they see you as a role model, someone who knows their own path and is dedicated to it. Some will assume you're really successful and have it all. They wonder if you have an inner calling, a spiritual belief that guides your life, because you seem to abide to a certain rules, some strict regimes and they're curious about it.

THREE

The word "wholesome" just immediately came to my mind. You have a very stable aura that makes people think you have your life all figured out. They might even think that your life is so different from them, so trouble-free, peaceful or exciting, anything but similar to theirs. But that doesn't alienate you from people, they actually like this about you. Like how cat videos restore faith in the world for some people. When they see your life, they get inspired to strive to do good with their life.

Your energy is both fast and slow, steady but active. You have no trouble standing your ground, putting down your foot. You can be very cautious and deliberate when investing in something, whether with your energy, your time, your resources, your emotions. But when you see the chance, the most effective path opening, you don't hesitate to take the action, almost like you have an angel or a wise counsellor behind your back who will give you encouragement to go forward. You are not a reckless gambler but a wise one.

Some people feel very safe and secure when they are around you, you feel like a teddy bear, a shelter to them. Because you are generous when you've decided that someone is worthy of your effort. You don't do things half-heartedly, your determination and devotion are very attractive in people's eyes. This can also mean that some people are quite dependent on you, emotionally, and they hate to admit it, I sense that some of them are quite proud and independent, so the notion that they're dependent on someone does not sit well with them.

You also have an amicable energy, people can sense that you won't get angry easily, you don't take out your ego and wave it at their faces. You talk only when it's necessary and don't demand attention. You seem like a humble person who doesn't complain when things get hard and just focus on solving the problem without expecting applause and praises. People who have a more dominant and fiery personality might find this attractive, as opposites attract. Some can view this as you can be ordered and are obedient, which boosts their ego a lot.

While some people wonder, if you truly are that humble or you're just good at hiding your desires and drives, they might think that you have something to hide, you're not comfortable showing your true self and just go along with what others deem good and nice. Would there be another person who is wild, ambitious and fierce behind your gentle image? Some might want to poke, to push you to see a more aggressive reaction from you. Another kind of people can view this energy as you being detached and aloof, like you don't have the time or energy to care. They secretly find this "unavailability" attractive, it shows you have standards and act accordingly to your own rules and set of beliefs. You seem to elicit a wide variety of opinions from people. If all of them were to have a meeting and voice their thoughts about you, it would make a long list. But they all will have to agree that you are unshakable from your resolution once you set your eyes on a goal.

FOUR

This group is a little similar to the previous group, both have strong earth energy with a hidden element. But your group is more youthful, the energy, at first glance, is softer and more playful. The similarity of the two groups is that people perceive you to be in alignment with your soul's desire. You seem to be living a full life. People look at you and feel the liveliness, the joy of living. Like a child beginning to step out to the world, who hasn't been disillusioned by the ugliness of reality yet. People secretly think you are naive and innocent, a little erratic or unpredictable, but you're not lost, you know where you are going, with a purpose, like a ship heading towards the lighthouse. You make people feel like they should act benevolent to you, because you deserve that treatment. To the people who already have children, you sometimes remind them of their own child, subconsciously. They would want to protect you and see you bloom and prosper.

You have an oblivious attitude towards worldly achievements that people secretly wish they can adopt it themselves. You focus on your self development but you don't put too much weight into being conventionally successful like having a good career, earning lots of money, being famous, almost like you're tired of that. Maybe you're well-known to a certainly extent in a community and some people can be a little envious of that, they may wonder how can you garner attention so easily like that, even when you don't do much, aren't active or just keep to yourself, but fame still finds you.

Your appearance shows that you're taking good care of yourself. You have a neat and simple style that people like. It suits your perceived manner, mild and stable. You notice little details and create a pleasant atmosphere and environment around you. Some people who work with you find these traits really attractive, they could develop a quiet crush for you.

You could have some small obsessions that people who are observant enough will notice. They intuitively sense that you are trying to establish a certain order in your life, a certain routine to balance out the inner emotional turmoil. It's like a storm is raging outside so you try to focus on organising the house to feel safe and distract yourself from the storm. This will attract people, some people are just really attracted to emotional depth and complexity. The more contradicting a person act, hinting a hidden landscape underneath, the more they are attracted.

You can be quite serious when it come to learning, this is where your determination shows itself the most. Teaching you is a delight, but can also come with heavy pressure, you don't want superficial knowledge, you want to go to the depth of things, analysing then committing the information into your memory. This, in turn, can also make you an excellent teacher, but you can be a little stern, surprisingly. You can seem young, but in some areas, you are so serious and committed, you seem like a wise old soul.

FIVE

I pulled only 3 Tarot cards for the previous groups, but your group demanded another one, apparently so many people have so many different opinions about you.

Your energy seems so red and fiery, like a burning fire. There are lots of moths flocking to your flame. They know they would "die", but they just can't help it. I can see that you have a lot of admirers, the majority of them are secret admirers though. There's something about your energy that makes people turn inward and become a lot more quiet and introverted than they normally are. They're contented to just keep a distance and admire you from a far. Have you ever see the process of an artist making their artwork? They are so focused in their own world, they emit an intense aura that keep the audience quiet and holding their breath, the people around them don't dare to disturb that creative process. Some people feel like that with you. You have a creative energy that can touch people, it's both very vulnerable but also strong, something that just is, without external shielding or masking.

People view you as someone who loves fearlessly, you have a reverence for love that borders on a religious feeling. It makes them question themselves, how can a human live so confidently like that, can they live like that too? is their life has a different meaning that they haven't thought of before? You are an inspiration to people, your flame is contagious, it spreads wherever it goes.

Those that are brave enough to approach you will like to talk and debate with you, you have a way to show your views clearly without eclipsing others. They admire your courage to defend your worldview and advocate for good courses. You might have a knack for rallying people, persuading people. People can easily be swept along your passionate energy.

Some believe that you have what it takes to be successful in this world. You have the talents, you have the will, and luck seems to follow you with each step you take. The phrase "Fortune favours the bold" can't be anymore apt than this. You have a balanced feminine and masculine energy that can attract people of different genders. To the world, when you need to accomplish something, you have no problem with exerting will power and strategies, to those close to you, you also hold a nurturing space for them. Some might perceive you as a good parental figure. Some will automatically assume that you're successful and rich, or you have someone backing you up. I will be honest, they're attracted to your abundance, the more lack they feel, the more attracted they are to you.

SIX

I wouldn't say you are shy or quiet, but you're reserved and just want to mind your own business. Your energy feels a little awkward and some people can notice that. Again, it's not exactly because of shyness, but more like a reluctance to come out of your own world. You might be a home-body or someone who prefer their private space a lot. If you can, you just want to stay in one place and live quietly, contentedly, but alas, you have to go out and interact with the world, and I do see some life circumstances that would force you to be out, to be more visible to the world. If you are a leader or someone with authority in the workplace, you will be a reluctant leader, but a good one nevertheless. This makes you seem more down to earth and relatable to many people.

You're resistant to disturbances and chaos. You want simple things, things that are essential for a good and tranquil life. A fresh meal, a walk on the beach, tea time with friends maybe enough to make you happy and feel fulfilled, also a heavy pocket full of money to prepare for rainy days. You're risk adverse, that's why you're always well prepared, stable and can shoulder lots of burdens. People can't help but feel peaceful and safe around you, they feel protected. That is, if they managed to get in your inner circle. You're selective of whom you interact and associate with. People like this pickiness of yours, it makes them feel privileged to be selected. You're picky but you're not stingy or haughty, everyone can still see that you're friendly and open enough.

As much as you always try to stay out of chaos, chaos seems to like you and follow you around. Some bizarre and unexpected events might happen that are totally out of your control. You life is somehow attached to invisible strings that pull and lead you to some pretty interesting experiences. Usually these experiences can bring positive changes into your life, if you're open to them. Those who witness these events will find them oddly fascinating. Magic seems to be real around you. You may have a strong manifesting power, whether you're conscious of them or not. You can literally create your reality through your power of imagination and words. So be mindful of what you are thinking and imagining.

[thunderboltfire]

That's probably because if I'm right the painting doesn't show the coronation itself! The title is Queen Jadwiga's Oath, and it probably refers to the very specific oath she was forced to make in response to the accusations that she hasn't been faithful to her husband.

This issue stems from the fact she was actually bethrothed to a different man before - Wilhelm Habsburg, who was much closer to her age, and whom she knew since they were both children. It was rather obvious that she preferred to be married to him instead of much older Lithuanian duke (and if it wasn't clear enough, according to chronicler Jan Długosz she initially broke out of house arrest by breaking the door down with an axe). She only agreed to marry Jagiełło because she was very pious, and the possibility of the christianisation of Lithuania managed to convince her. Besides, there was no way to convince the nobles to agree for a Habsburg to sit on the Polish throne. From a perspective of time, it was a politically sound decision to turn towards Lithuania that spared Poland from becoming a sphere of direct Habsburg influence and ruled out further dynastic problems that could come with it, but nonetheless, for it to happen, Jadwiga had to sacrifice her personal interest on the altar of the reason of state.

The fact that Wilhelm Habsburg was present in the area at the time sparked controversy - also the fact that their bethrotal was theoretically a marriage on behalf of their families (sponsalia de futuro), that was supposed to be renewed by them and consummated when they were of age, sparked rumours of Jadwiga's unfaithfulness to Jagiełło and even accusations of bigamy. This led her to officially swear that she was never, and never was to be unfaithful to put an end to the rumours - that's the moment which is on the painting, and that's probably why the reactions in the background are so mixed.

Jadwiga is a fascinating historical figure - she was a peaceful monarch, but she didn't shy from war, when needed. She probably wasn't a decision maker for long (since in the beginning of her reign she was underage, and later she ruled alongside her husband), but she's remembered for her philantropy, piety and the legends praise her mercy and wisdom. She's donated her royal insignia to Cracow's university, which is why it's named Jagiellonian until this day. Unfortunately, she died rather young (she was 26 years old, ostheopathy says she could be 28-30 years old), from childbirth complications. Based on her skeleton, she was a tall woman (more than 170cm tall), with a rectangular face. I've heard some historians speculate that her skeleton bearing some typically male characteristics, like narrow and long pelvis and strong jaw might be an indication of her being intersex, which could be the cause of her problems with conception and childbirth, but I don't think there's been any research that would offer the definitive proof of it.

In any way, while (especially 19th century) iconography and historiography showcases her as a mild, almost angelic personality, I think her actions, both as a ruler and as a queen, show significant resolve and intelligence, with her trials to diplomatically resolve the conflicts with the Teutonic order, balancing between admitting her rights to Hungarian crown and maintaining positive relations with her brother-in-law, donations to education and establishment of hospitals.

She's one of the most loved monarchs in our history, and I think she earned it.

Also I love the fact that her much later, neogothic tombstone placed a dog under her feet as a symbol of loyalty. The tombstone is decorative, as she's actually buried in her favourite place of prayer - under so-called 'black crucifix' in the side aisle of the cathedral. She's also been canonised as a saint of Catholic church.

HISTORY MEME | 1/10 moments: Jadwiga is Crowned King of Poland.

The coronation ceremony that took place in the Wawel Cathedral in Krakow on 16 October 1384 was truly a splendid event: Polish nobles spared no expenses and the grandeur of the coronation impressed everyone present. But the historical significance was even greater. For one thing, the young girl who was being crowned (only 11 years old at the time) was to go down in history as one of Poland’s greatest and most beloved Monarchs. And for another, the aforementioned lady was crowned not as Queen of Poland (as would be expected considering her gender) but as King.

There is no humorous tale of a mix-up: the decision was made for quite practical reasons. Polish law was very specific that the ruler had to be King – but it did not state the King had to be a male. And so instead of re-writing the law and to emphasise the fact Jadwiga was a ruler in her own right, it was decided she should be crowned as Hedvig Rex Poloniæ (Hedwig, King of Poland) and not Hedvig Regina Poloniæ (Hedwig, Queen of Poland).

[aurynsia]

Slim Pickins

James Potter x Reader

Summary: You pine over your roommate’s friend from school at a party while he’s on a call with his ex…

Warnings: Miscommunication trope, slight hurt -> comfort, James is stuttering like a lovesick FOOL so good luck reading the dialogue, reader is referred to as a girl with she/her pronouns and presents femininely, Marlene being the greatest match maker of all time!

Word Count: 1.1K

Masterlist

A/N: “A boy who’s jacked and kind…”so, James Potter?

——————— ⋆☆ ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

Sitting alone at your roommate’s dinner party, you gazed longingly at the boy who poured a sudden dose of affection into your once-loveless world, a disgruntled frown pressed against your lips.

Only meeting a few weeks ago on a frantic night of music and drinking, Marlene had practically dragged you over to the tall boy with a grand smile spread across his bespectacled face.

You were so enamoured after your first introduction, you completely missed the way the boy - James - leaned tentatively over to Marlene to whisper words of admiration.

“Just like how you described…is it too early to ask for her number? So pretty…” the muttered compliments and queries were drowned out by the blasting music, assisted by your complete lack of self awareness as you pined over the way his hair tickled his neck when he leaned towards your roommate.

You had danced your way through the nerves, guided by the soothing rhythm of pumping bass and new beginnings as you formed a core memory with your roommate and new friends.

Tonight was a different story.

James stumbled around your living room, a few drinks too many compromising his composure as he rambled on the phone to his old girlfriend.

Marlene had told you all about James and Lily, king and queen of their grade, and the sudden end to their relationship after graduation.

While you were relieved to hear the boy was single, you couldn’t help feeling a tinge of jealousy as he rambled on about something excitedly, cheeks blushing and smile only growing wider.

You nursed your drink in your sweaty grasp, feeling the depressing effect of alcohol wash over you like a wave over the Scottish shoreline.

James passed subtle glances towards you, throwing his drink around in his hand as he spoke animatedly down the line to an undoubtedly amused redhead.

Your jealously sparked into unbridled envy, willing yourself to turn back time and dance carefree once again, grinning at the handsome new face as you crossed the dance floor blindly in your memory. You slumped in your seat, allowing your vision to blur as your eyes fell in your intoxicated haze.

——————— ⋆☆ ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

James was all but yelling down the line to his lover-turned-friend, gushing enthusiastically through a permanent smile. “Seriously, she’s so cute! I wish you were here to meet her, I think you’d really get along,” He rambled, glancing in your direction every second moment.

“Yes, Potter, I’m sure we’d form an unbreakable bond over shared experiences of being relentlessly pursued by you,” Lily quipped, voice laced with a lighthearted tease. “Oh, shush. You won’t have to deal with my antics anymore if this lovely girl has anything to do with it. I think I’m gonna ask her out tonight, Lils!”

Lily was the only person in the school-born friend group who moved too far away to attend any of Marlene’s late-night gatherings, only kept in the loop by drunken phone calls from the bustling London apartment.

She meant the world to James as one of his closest friends, so he assured her repeatedly that it was crucial she knew about his obsessive new crush before he made a move. Physical distance couldn’t stop him from updating her on every new development in the capital city, constantly obstructing the peace and quiet of her comforting cottage.

“Well, don’t let me keep you,” Lily sighed in partial satisfaction, but mostly in exhaustion at the late hour of the night. “Go get your girl, Potter.”

With that final encouragement, James passed on hurried farewells before hanging up on the past. Now, his gaze was fixed on his future. His cheeks heated at the sight of your soft face, eyebrows furrowed in drunken fatigue.

With a final breath of courage, he pushed through his chorus of friends, Marlene squeezing his shoulder as he passed in knowing encouragement.

Striding along the path of dirtied plates scattered across your dining table, he finally found comfort in leaning against the wooden surface just in front of your current seat.

——————— ⋆☆ ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

You stirred at the sound of a deep cough - James clearing his throat to gain just a moment of your attention. “Enjoying the party?” he laughed nervously, never one for small talk with a girl he fancied.

Your eyes winced as you forced your best, welcoming smile at the boy. “Yeah, I am, just uh- lost track of my drinking an hour or two ago…” you admitted, forcing your eyes open to meet James’ bashful gaze, feeling almost sinful at the pleasurable warmth that shivers through you at the sight of his golden eyes.

“So, listen- uh…Marls said you were too good for me and I can’t help but agree with her, I mean,” he shifted his weight to balance his drunken nerves, “you’re brilliant. But I promised myself I’d shoot my shot anyway.” He scrambled to sit beside you, abandoning his position against the table as you stared at him in wide-eyed disbelief, blinking in a fluster that successfully woke you from your alcohol-induced slumber.

“So, um…I really, really like you. You’re so bright and- and gorgeous, and I’m really quite obsessed with you,” he rattled with embarrassed laughter, “I thanked Marlene a thousand times over for introducing us, and I just can’t let an opportunity like this - with you - go to waste. So, with this liquid courage…” he shook the drink in his hand, “I was wondering if you’d want to grab dinner some time. With me. Just us.”

You might as well have called for “clean up on aisle your floor” because your jaw wouldn’t be lifted from the wood beneath your feet any time soon.

“I- I mean, yes! Of course! That…that would be great, James, really,” you responded on autopilot after stunned silence, lost in his lovesick gaze as you subconsciously leaned closer to his warmth. James lit up like a lamp at dusk, grinning ear to ear as you inched closer in unexplored yet familiar comfort.

“Brilliant.”

Your roommate and her friends watched on with smiling pride before leaving you to whisper and giggle like school girls sharing meaningless secrets, bathing in the light of blossoming romance over the candlelit remnants of dinner.

——————— ⋆☆ ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

[sweetpupii]

currently thinking about sleepy sex with ellie :(

omg fnnfnfdnjdn 😖

cw - somno

ellie who cannot keep her hands to herself even while she's falling asleep, needs it. the warmth, needs the feeling of your skin, she needs to be as close as humanly possible if not more.

you barely had any time to get under the covers before her hands automatically found their way under your shirt, palm on your stomach to tug you closer—calloused fingers stroked lazy shapes against your skin. her front flush against your back, lips messily meeting your shoulder with a low hum.

baby had to wake up earlier than usual for patrol and was so fucking tiredddd </3

“my hand's not cold…” the sound of her voice was muffled against your back and as much as she denies it, her hand is definitely cold, freezing I dare to say. this woman is an ice cube most of the time. with that body temperature she might as well be liquid nitrogen pretending to be a person.

( and she takes advantage of it to cuddle. )

“ellie, I swear—get your hand away,” you shot back, trying to squirm away from her cold grip, but it only made her tighten her hold, pulling you even closer.

“mm, stop moving,” she whined, her tone dipping into that sleep-drunk whimper that made your resolve crumble most of the time. “you’re warm… feels nice.” her nose nuzzled the back of your neck, lips brushing your skin.

ugh, so stubborn and clingy.

don't blame her if she starts to grind against your ass while spooning, she just wants to be warm! and honestly it's her body acting purely out of instinct.

it's not just to fuck, it's to soothe herself to sleep.

her hips moved in small, unthinking rolls, completely involuntary, like her body was acting on autopilot. she wasn’t fully there—her needy murmurs were barely coherent, breath hot against your neck as she clung tighter.

even if there's no direct contact she lets out little, groany whimpers on your neck while her hand stills its movements every now and then. hazy mind unable to focus on doing multiple things at once. she's awful at multitasking when eepy.

all she can think about is feels good feels good feels good and how her hand goes to grip your hips, you could be dead asleep and her body keeps moving. the hot, tingly feeling in ellie's lower abdomen making her unable to stop. she'll apologize for her horny actions in the morning with extra kisses!

if you're awake enough to turn around though? ugh, she goes insane.

puffy lips finding your own in an instant, the kiss sloppy and desperately uncoordinated. she goes at it like she's starved, like she'll die in her sleep if she doesn't kiss ( eat ) you right now. her thigh situates itself in-between yours to rub there, feeling the already sticky mess dripping from the fabric of your underwear onto her skin. she’s so grateful for every decision she took in her life that led her to wear shorts as PJs.

the movements don't have any pace or rhythm—she's too tired for that—but they don't stop, she doesn't want them to and the little sounds you make show that you don't want that either.

she feels your thighs clench around hers and the way your hand grips her shirt, the smooth skin on her thigh coated with arousal.

“so good…” ellie muttered while the wet, messy open-mouthed kisses trail down your neck. they start to go a bit slower and less frequent than before as she grows more and more tired. the whiny sighs slipping from your lips sound like a lullaby to her barely conscious brain.

her panties are still soaked but her poor body can't keep going for longer. her own orgasm will have to wait until tomorrow because she's out like light the second you come.

night night. ♡

[livinghalfway]

Right Reasons; Wrong Kid

Summary: Batfam thinks Damian is being kidnapped when they see Danny getting manhandled into a car by Vlad; Danny loves to make Vlad's life difficult and puts up a fight getting into the car.

Word Count: 1450

Being in Gotham was the last place Danny wanted to be today, especially when he had to be here with Vlad. The fruitloop had somehow convinced his parents that he should go to this stupid three day business conference with him.

While Danny can't make any decisions right now he can certainly make Vlad regret his. Which is why Danny doesn't feel an ounce of embarrassment at what he is currently doing.

"Daniel, get in the car." Vlad hissed at him with a tight smile as they both stood outside of the building the conference was being hosted in.

"No." He said; even going as far as to take a step backwards to further spite the man in front of him.

It was clear Vlad was losing his patience with him if the subtle flash of red in his eyes is anything to go off of. "Daniel, I won't ask again. Get in the car now, or I can drag you in. The choice is yours, but you will be getting in this car one way or another."

"You really gonna drag a kid into your car in front of all these people you're trying so hard to impress?" Danny looked from side to side at all the people congregating on the sidewalk and steps as they wait for their vehicles to arrive.

"I'm hardly the first person they've seen that has had to deal with a stubborn child refusing to listen." Vlad says as he takes a threatening step forward, "Now get in the car."

"No."

Seemingly annoyed but not surprised Vlad takes a deep breath before his hand, like a snake, strikes forward and grabs a hold of him before beginning to pull. Just as quickly though Danny is trying to pull away with just as much strength. Quickly taking a moment to look around he sees that others are already starting to look in their direction; perfect.

With him distracted though Vlad was able to get a sharp tug on him causing him to stubble towards the car. Before he can fall into the car though Danny is shooting his foot forward, firmly planting it down as his hands land on both sides of the open car door.

"Gonna have to try harder than that, fruitloop. I can't make it too easy for you." Danny teased as he fought against Vlad’s pushing.

Vlad doesn't say anything back to him besides giving a low growl. This situation is clearly not going the way he wanted to and Vlad’s frustration was starting to show, and Danny was determined to watch this man break in front of all these people he so desperately wanted to impress.

He locked his arms and knees when he felt Vlad start pushing harder against his back. Preparing himself to jump to the side the moment Vlad loosened his grip even slightly. What he wasn't prepared for though was for the weight pushing against him to suddenly disappear.

"What is going on here?" A deceivingly friendly voice sounds out behind him.

Before Danny can realize what has just happened though a much stronger hand is gripping his shoulder and yanking him away from the open car door. Finally able to see more than just the car's interior Danny see's that three other men are now standing by the car.

Two of them, a teen not much older than himself and a middle aged man, are standing in front of him as if forming a wall between him and Vlad. Who is being held in place by the third man.

Danny can see that Vlad was just as thrown off by these strangers as he is based on the startled look on his face. What confuses him though is when instead of becoming angry like he expects Vlad only looks surprised as he takes in the three guys with them.

"Bruce Wayne!" Vlad announces with a tight grin, "I was just trying to get my son to cooperate with me and get in the car. I'm sure you understand how teenage boys are."

"I'm not your son!" Danny instinctively yells out; no way in hell was he going to let Vlad tell people they were any way related.

It took him a second to register what name Vlad had even said.

Bruce Wayne? He remembers Sam and Tucker talking about that guy and his family when they found out he was going to Gotham. Which means if he's remembering correctly then the young man next to Vlad is most likely Dick Grayson and the older teen next to him is Tim Drake.

Without looking at him Bruce leans towards him and whispers, "Shh Damian, let me handle this."

Wait. What?

"I'm not-" Danny tried to say that his name wasn't Damian, but was quickly interrupted before he could.

"Damian, quiet." Bruce lowly growls; still not moving his gaze to look at Danny. "Actually, Mr. Masters, you'll find that this is my son, and I don't think you should be putting your hands on him."

Vlad looks from Bruce to Danny and then back to Bruce, "While I do agree that you and Daniel share some resemblance this is not your son Mr. Wayne."

It seems Bruce wasn't going to entertain Vlad's "lie" because he still doesn't bother to even look at Danny. Tim on the other hand seems to consider what Vlad said, and turns to actually look at his face.

Danny almost laughs out loud when he sees shock immediately overtake Tim's face. At least one of these fruit loops is smart enough to recognize that he isn't the youngest Wayne.

"Bruce, this isn't Damian." Tim states with wide eyes still locked with his.

Upon hearing this the other two Wayne's finally take a hard look at Danny for themselves.

"Oh my God B, that's not Damian!" Dick exclaims before releasing his hold on Vlad.

Bruce on the other hand is frozen in shock as he stares at Danny as he comes to the realization that the boy in front of him is in fact not his youngest son. Snapping himself out of his stupor, the older man finally addresses Vlad. "Mr. Masters, my deepest apologies. It seems this young man and my son look remarkably alike, and I assumed the worst when I saw him fighting to get into the car."

Vlad takes a step forward towards Danny clear with his intentions of getting them into the car now, but before he can grab him Bruce is once more taking a step in front of Danny. "I would actually like to have a quick word with Daniel if you won't mind."

"And why is that?"

"I have a son his age after all, maybe I can help ease this teenage rebellion phase, and cause less fights when it comes to getting in the car."

Danny must have been more focused on the growing argument in front of him more than he thought because he ends up slightly jumping when he feels a sudden hand on his shoulder. Looking to his right he sees that Dick is now standing next him with a soft smile. "Daniel, right?"

“Danny actually, and you’re Dick?”

"Yup! That's me," He gestures to the boy standing on Danny's other side, "and this is Tim. Sorry about all this; we thought our brother was being kidnapped."

"Do I seriously look that much like him?" At this point Danny had to meet Damian if the guy's family was even confusing the two of them.

Tim is giving him a concentrated look when he replies, "It's like the two of you could be twins or maybe even clones. The eye color is the biggest difference between the two of you."

If Danny didn't know any better he would think Tim was accusing him of being a clone based on the tone of his voice. He knew Gotham was weird, but he didn't think he would have to worry about cloning here. "While I was adopted when I was pretty young, but I think I'd know if I had a twin or if I was a clone."

"Crazy things happen all the time in Gotham."

Well, that doesn’t sound ominous at all. Danny can't believe saying this, but it's probably time to get Vlad's attention and get the hell out of here. He already has one crazy fruitloop to worry about; he doesn't need more. "Vlad, I think we really need to-."

“Father, what is the meaning of all this?” A new voice interrupts him, and when he sees who it is truly shocking to see a mirror of his own face. The other is also now looking at him with something akin to shock and grief.

“Damian?”

“Danyal.”

[the-kingshound]

Mordred snippet as a gift to my lovely followers❤

Arthur will get married.

Mordred thinks of that, instead of reading the book that is open in front of him on the library's desk. The book is interesting, in his opinion, but he can't help but wonder about the new Consort.

A spark of longing makes it way through Mordred's chest. If the person Arthur is marrying, as Mordred understands, is from a rival House to the Crown, then he and Evaine won't be the last outsiders in the castle.

Looked at and spoken to differently. Left horribly out of place, like plants eradicated from their soil and left in a vase to whither.

He doesn't belong here.

He wants to belong, though. His... Arthur has tried very hard to help, but... As Mordred takes the perhaps too heavy tome, cradling it against his chest, and getting up from the seat to leave the library, hardly anyone spares a look in his direction. And if they do, it just ends up making Mordred feel uneasy.

He hastily goes through the exitway, having to push quite hard in order for the heavy doors to open. He thinks about going to Evaine, but then discards the idea, because instead a more pressing thought, or rather a realisation, takes up his mind.

Mordred is generally ignored, no one looks at him for more than a few instants, and though it sometiems makes him feel uneasy, it also generally sits well with him. He prefers to be left alone anyway, and Arthur provides enough company for when he doesn't.

But the thought of being ignored by the Consort too, just as everyone else, makes Mordred's insides twist.

But to avoid that, Mordred probably has to make the first step... maybe, he thinks as he walks, maybe a gift will make him be noticed? Just enough for Arthur's spouse to see that Mordred wants to be friendly them.

And then... they can talk. Maybe.

But... Mordred stops walking and takes a look around to locate the eastern tower, where the servants reside. Because he has just remembered that they are mute, as Arthur told him.

So Mordred has to learn to sign.

With a pointed focus that doesn't waver has quite a lot of servants greet him politely as he passes, Mordred walks towards a room he has been to before. He knocks, and waits, face set in a very serious expression.

A servant that Mordred doesn't know answers the door, his eyes widening as he recognizes Mordred.

"Greetings, my Liege. What can I do for you?"

But before Mordred can talk, his shoulders drooping a bit as his plan loses shape, a more familiar voice comes from behind the man.

"Oh, hello, Mordred."

His spirits lifted, he nods in greetings. Gwyar murmurs something to the other servant, who excuses himself, and Mordred gets inside the room.

He breathes in and gathers the courage to ask, "Can you teach me sign? Please."

[miaoua3]

(pairing: vernon x f!reader)

based on one of my boyfriend headcanons i did for vernon

you were getting progressively more and more scared. vernon called you almost an hour ago, saying that he was on the way home. except he’s still not home, when he should’ve been there almost 20 minutes ago.

biting on your finger, you were pacing around the living room, wondering how soon would it be too soon to call the police and to report a missing person.

just as you were about to grab the phone and to call him again, the rattling of the keys hitting the entrance door makes you look in the direction of it.

and through the door walks the cause of your heart attack.

quickly approaching him, you start rambling at him “where the hell have you been? i was so worried something happened to you, i swear i was this close to calling the police, is it really hard to answer your phone vernon? i mean seriously how many times have i-“, and you stop.

because something just meowed from the inside of his jacket that, now that you’re looking at it, vernon was wearing in an awkward way, supporting the bottom of it with one hand.

vernon looks at you with his beautiful big and shiny eyes, the eyes that you usually could stare at for hours and love so dearly, but could gauge right now due to frustration.

after a few seconds of silence, you ask while focusing solely on his jacket. “hansol. that better not be a cat inside of your jacket, again.”

blinking slowly at you, he responds “it’s not.”, before he proceeds to pull down the zipper of his jacket.

where three little kittens poke their heads out of.

hansol, smiling widely and thinking that you won’t end his life, says “it’s three cats.”

closing your eyes, you are only able to release a sigh and rub your temples, while he gently rubs the kitten’s heads with his finger.

god, give me strength to deal with this man.

[venomhound]

Hazbin Hotel - Morning Routines

Kind of a part 2 to the Sleeping Habits Post??? While that one is about falling asleep with them, this one is about what its like to wake up with them. Same lineup; Alastor, Vox, and Lucifer. I... also might have accidentally started a Charlie one so I might be doing more parts to these (｡ŏ_ŏ)

Contents/WARNINGS: Gender neutral reader; NSFW in Vox's section; mostly just nuclear powered fluff; somebody PLEASE get Lucifer a doctor the man is so depressed (18+), MDNI, NSFW below the cut ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

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Alastor ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

As gone over in my sleeping habits post, Alastor does not like sharing a bed normally. But if it does happen to be a blue moon and he actually stayed the whole night; it is a sight to behold in the morning.

Alastor's hair is naturally curly. Due to internalized racism (from you know, the 1920s), Alastor insists his hair must be straight and has a crazy hair routine to keep it that way. One of many reasons why his hair is so... gnarly looking.

Right after he wakes up in the mornings though, his bedhead breaks through the illusion. You get to see the glorious sight of Alastor's hair attempting to go back to its natural form. The edges of his locks are making small loops in all directions, and his face is framed in loose ringlets.

Unfortunately, this only lasts for about ten minutes at most before he goes to "fix" it.

Other then getting to see that beautiful sight, the mornings are the same regardless of if he stayed in the bed with you or not; You always get to wake up to his wonderful cooking.

Alastor has unfortunately had to take it upon himself to be the hotel chef. Charlie did try to do it for a little bit, but that resulted in more fires and ambiguous remains then anything. Vaggie and Husk can barely operate a microwave. Nifty is well... Nifty.

So Alastor pops into the hotel kitchen at around 7am to start cooking breakfast for the hotel. More 7:30 if his hair has been particularly unruly that day.

Alastor pokes fun at everyone over being their chef, but he really likes it actually. He will never admit that to anyone though. He finds the mornings relaxing because he gets to just cook, something that he enjoys and thats deeply nostalgic for him. It starts him off on the right foot for the day.

The only times it starts him on the wrong foot, is when Lucifer decides to get up at an ungodly hour (or straight up pull an all nighter), just so he can steal the kitchen and make the hotel breakfast instead.

Lucifer does this because he thinks he is a better chef then Alastor. Surely, Alastor's annoyance is proof of that! But Alastor is actually pissed off because his plans for the morning got set on fire by Lucifer's dumb ego.

Alastor really does go above and beyond as the chef by the way. For a cannibal, you would never expect how respectful he is of everyone's dietary preferences. If your a vegetarian, or even a vegan, Alastor won't blow you off. He will make something for everyone that still works for you, or just make you something special. He sees it less as you having a dietary restriction and more as a challenge of his skills.

Anyways, thanks to Alastor, mornings at the hotel are always extremely nice. Everyone comes down to eat together, hang out, and just be. Its a tranquil time and atmosphere that he has taken great care to cultivate. Sets him up perfectly mentally for his afternoon radio shows.

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Vox ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

Vox always wakes up with a big sigh. He is very much that type of person whose first thought when waking up is, 'goddamn it, I woke up'. Hates leaving the bed but knows he has to.

At least Vox stops having those thoughts when you become apart of his life.

If your still in the bed when he wakes up, Vox is immediately comforted by your weight on his chest. He cant help but smile as his arms tighten around you. One of Vox's hands starts absentmindedly carding through your hair as he goes over everything he has to do that day in his head.

If your not in the bed when Vox wakes up, it completely fucks with his mind. His sleeping body does not register you moving or getting up at all. So from Vox's perspective, you were in his arms one second then... not. Vox will wake up to you not there and be super confused. He will legit start looking for you like a puppy.

Depending on your relationship status with him, Vox might even just assume that he dreamt/hallucinated the whole encounter with you. Only realizing that it actually happened upon outside evidence.

Operating on the assumption that you two are a thing; Vox now tries to keep his mornings flexible because of you. They used to be very regimented. Vox would wake up, get dressed, grab a coffee, then be right out the door to head to work. But now that your here, the mornings are much more relaxed.

When you first move in, Vox's first order of business is to hire a personal chef. Don't get me wrong, Vox loves it when you cook for him. The guy absolutely melts when you do. But the reality is he loves it a little... too much. Which often results in no breakfast actually being had because Vox ends up dragging you back to the bedroom. Of course, that's if he doesn't end up fucking you right on the counter or kitchen table.

Look. Seeing you by the stove in an apron just does something to him, alright?

If you ever even asked Vox if he knew how to cook, the guy would probably bluescreen. The only thing he knows how to ""cook"" is 'takeout'. (image included) If he tried to boil an egg, he would burn the water.

So yeah. Vox takes initiative to get you two a chef. He doesn't want you to have to cook for him anyway; he wants it to be an act of love rather then an obligation. If you push Vox and say you want to cook for him, he will making heart eyes and be ready to marry you on the spot.

Seriously. Make him cute, homemade lunches for work. Vox will brag about them to everyone. Put adorable love notes in there and everything. The guy will be on his knees.

Regardless of who actually made the breakfast, Vox always has it with you. He may be a busy man, but he makes sure this is a time you get him exclusively. Vox lets you know of his schedule for the day (assuming Valentino doesnt set it on fire ofc) and when he plans on being home.

When Vox leaves for work he actually has a genuine smile on his face. Don't get me wrong, he still hates it and cant wait to get back home to you. But Vox doesn't feel that same crushing dread that he did before.

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Lucifer ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

It used to be so hard to get up for him. It wasn't uncommon for Lucifer to just wallow in bed for an entire day. But now that your here, everything has changed. Lucifer actually has a reason to get up in the mornings again. He used to just go back to sleep and pretend the world doesn't exist.

He is a morningbird by nature, so he often wakes up before you. However, Lucifer hates leaving your arms and the cozy bed. So one of two things happens depending on how he is feeling.

If Lucifer is feeling good, or just particularly lovey that morning; he will pull you extra close to him and start kissing all over you. You'll wake up to the wonderful feeling of fleeting kisses and his smile on your skin. No better way to start the day.

As soon as he notices your awake, Lucifer moves to place quick, chaste kisses all over your face. All while asking, "How are you feeling, Ducky?", "Did you sleep okay?", "Have any fun dreams?".

Lucifer looks at you with the most adoring look in his eyes, desperate to snuggle and feel your skin on his. He wants to listen to you talk about anything and everything.

After awhile of cuddling and pillow talk, you have to be the one to convince Lucifer to get up. He will playfully whine and try to keep you in the bed, but he won't keep it up for long. Lucifer also cant wait to make you a wonderful breakfast and talk more while he cooks too~

Lucifer is a chatterbox when he wants to be. Especially with someone he loves. He basically wants to imbibe your entire being; that includes getting to know every random thought you have and every dark corner of your mind.

But if Lucifer feels the weight of depression weighing him down that morning, he simply snuggles deeper into you when he wakes. His grip on you tightens, and he pulls the sheets tighter around you two. Like he is building a cocoon or trying to shield you both from the outside.

Sometimes you can tell as soon as he wakes up that he is in a bad state. Instead of kisses, you are woken up by the trembling of his small form. Shaking with unshed tears and fresh pain from old wounds.

Lucifer clings to you desperately; the grip of his claws threatening to break your skin. You have to physically force him away from you just so you can look him in the eyes. Even then, Lucifer whimpers and tries to hug you tighter in protest.

He will begin to plead with you. Saying things like "Don't leave me" or "Please stay". You kiss him gently and bring him into your chest as he finally begins to sob. You two stay there for a long time. Lucifer is extra clingy that day. Attached to you at the hip and always holding your hand in his. His heart rate picks up and he starts to get frantic if your fingers slip out of his.

Mornings with Lucifer are overall just very slow. Meandering. Lucifer's safe place has become the bed since the heights of his depression, so he is reluctant to leave it. Some dark part of him feels that the longer he can keep you in bed, the longer he wont have to say an inevitable 'goodbye'.

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FURTHER READING ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

Its a super silly idea, but I love >>THIS POST<< by @antiheroalastor where you find out Alastor has a extensive skincare routine.

Cute imagine by @voxisdaddy where Vox has to cuddle you to fall asleep can be found >>HERE<<

Then something more spicy, >>HERE<< are some ADORABLE Lucifer aftercare headcanons by @redr0sewrites. Rose writes the rambling, dorky, disaster Lucifer that I have envisioned in my head PERFECTLY.

[dissapointu]

Hi! Thanks for sharing your writing!

Can you do something with Sevika's lover losing their arm? Instead of her for once. Wlw of course if you please.

Thank you 😊

Oh my god. OKAY. So picture this: Sevika’s gf, who is like this totally badass mechanic/inventor type (think Piltover vibes, but she defected to Zaun because screw the system), loses her arm in this crazy accident while working on some sketchy tech for Silco. Like one second she’s welding, and the next, there’s this explosion of smoke and sparks, and BAM, she’s down. Sevika rushes in, her heart like pounding out of her chest, and finds her girlfriend all bloody and barely conscious, clutching what’s left of her arm. (Cue Sevika screaming “NOOOO!” like she’s in some tragic romance novel.)

Fast forward to a dark and moody Zaun clinic, where Sevika’s pacing the room while her gf is passed out on some rickety table, and oh my GOD, the angst is real. Sevika blames herself because, duh, she’s the one who got her mixed up with Silco and his dangerous shenanigans. When her gf finally wakes up, Sevika’s sitting at her bedside, looking like she hasn’t slept in DAYS, and she’s like:

“I told you to leave that damn tech alone.”

And her gf, because she’s a literal queen who takes no nonsense, just smirks (even though she’s in literal PAIN) and goes, “What? And miss the chance to impress you?”

LIKE PLEASE. Sevika does the whole clenching her jaw to hold back tears thing because she’s in love and terrified all at once. She doesn’t know how to be soft, but this is her person. So, naturally, she offers her own tech contacts to build her girlfriend a prosthetic. (Her whole “I’ll kill anyone who hurts you” vibe is now directed at literally anyone who so much as looks at her gf wrong.)

The best part? When her gf gets the prosthetic arm, it’s all sleek and Zaun-punky, but she adds a little twist—she incorporates Sevika’s iconic mechanical arm design. Now they’re matching, and everyone in Zaun knows not to mess with them because they’re THE power couple, like the ultimate ride-or-dies.

Bonus: Silco sees them together and just shakes his head because Sevika is soft for one (1) woman in this entire grimy city, and it’s absolutely hilarious to him.

Drabble:

You’re in the workshop, grease smeared on your cheek and fingers blackened from hours of work. The humming of machinery fills the space as you tweak the last bolt on your latest invention, a device you convinced Silco would “revolutionize Zaun.” (You might have exaggerated. Just a little.)

Sevika’s in her usual spot, leaned back in a rickety chair with her boots up on the table, sharpening her stupid blade like it’s some ritual. She’s watching you out of the corner of her eye—she always watches you like that, half-annoyed, half-amused, and completely impossible to read.

“Careful with that thing,” she mutters, her voice low and gravelly, like she already knows something’s going to go wrong.

“You’re always so dramatic,” you shoot back, smirking. You’re trying to act casual, but the truth is, you love when she gets protective like this. It makes you feel…seen. Loved. Even if she sucks at saying it.

But then—BOOM.

The world tips sideways. There’s a flash of light, deafening noise, and pain that hits you like a train. You’re thrown backward, slamming into the wall, and everything goes dark.

When you come to, your whole body is screaming, but it’s your arm—your missing arm—that sends the panic crashing down. You try to move it, try to feel it, but there’s nothing there. Just a horrifying emptiness.

“Stay still,” Sevika’s voice cuts through the haze. She’s crouched beside you, her usually calm expression twisted into something raw and panicked. Her hands are covered in your blood—your blood—and for a second, you think you’re hallucinating because Sevika doesn’t panic. She doesn’t let her guard down like this.

“I told you,” she growls, her voice shaking, “I told you to stop messing with that damn tech.”

But there’s no bite in her words, no anger. Just fear.

You try to smile, to make some joke about how she was right (again), but it comes out as more of a pained gasp. Her hand—her good one—clutches yours, holding on like she’s afraid you’ll disappear.

The recovery is hell. Sevika doesn’t leave your side for days, barely sleeping, barely eating. You don’t talk about it, but you know she blames herself. She keeps muttering things like, “Should’ve stopped you,” and, “Never should’ve let you work for him.”

One night, after hours of silence, you finally snap.

“Stop looking at me like I’m broken,” you say, your voice sharper than you intend.

Sevika freezes, her jaw clenching. “I don’t—”

“You do.” You sit up, wincing, and glare at her. “I’m still me, Sev. I’m not some…half-person because of this.” You gesture toward the stump where your arm used to be.

For a long moment, she just stares at you, her face unreadable. Then, quietly, she says, “You scared the hell out of me.”

Her voice cracks on the last word, and it breaks something inside you. She’s not Sevika, the enforcer, the muscle, the unshakable badass everyone’s terrified of. Right now, she’s just…Sevika. The woman who loves you so much it hurts.

Weeks later, when you’re fitted with a prosthetic (one Sevika personally made sure was perfect), you can’t help but laugh when you notice the design.

“It matches your arm,” you tease, wiggling your new fingers.

“Figured we’d make a good pair,” she says with a smirk, but there’s something soft in her eyes. Something she won’t say, but you can feel it all the same.

[boreal-sea]

I will never in a million years claim I’m personally immune to being radicalized. I’m certain I could be, given the right circumstances, because we are ALL vulnerable to it.

So let me tell you a time I got frustrated with pro-choicers, briefly became a pro-lifer, and ended up as a pro-choicer again.

Years ago I was on a pro-choice forum. This was circa 2010. I was so active I ended up a moderator. Pro-lifers were “welcome” in the sense that they were, quite frankly, used as punching bags. This was not a place of reasonable debate and discourse. And when I tried to apply the rules equally, I was literally banned from the forums. I’d been expressing empathy for the pro-lifers as, you know, real human beings, and that didn’t fly in this space.

So I went and checked out the pro-life forum. I experienced a period of welcoming from most of the members, and the debate there actually seemed a lot more nuanced than on the pro choice forum. Like, these folks were actually discussing their personal nuanced feelings about exceptions for rape and life of the mother! The pro choice forum had no nuance: abortion was always the mother’s choice (remember, this was 2010. Trans people weren’t even on the forum).

But eventually they turned on me, too. Turns out that they welcome you in, then slowly turn up the heat with the eventual goal of getting you to agree that in no cases is abortion acceptance. Unsurprising, back on the other side. But it’s not like the pro choice forum didn’t do the same thing in the opposite direction: bringing people in with the exceptions, and then convincing people it was acceptable in all cases.

As for what deradicalized me, it was mostly getting doxed by one of the pro-lifers. They really slowed me that as awful and as cruel as the pro-choicers in that particular community had been, stalking someone across the internet would never have crossed their minds as something ok to do. I think.

Now - for the record, I’m 200% pro-choice. I learned a lot from going to the pro-life side, though, and to be quite frank I don’t regret it. The biggest thing I realized was at the end of the day, literally nothing else matters except personal autonomy. That’s the root of it, for me. Do I have an unrestricted right to control my body, or not? And that’s the basis of my feelings behind everything from trans rights to religion.

BUT - and this is big too - I don’t like or support either of the communities I was in at the time. They were both radical, in opposite directions.

[drdemonprince]

the asks and responses you've been posting about this ex-abuser friend and abuse as a skill set are so so interesting to me. it's more related to your responses, but I've been thinking for a long time about autistic forced passiveness teaching manipulation tactics. personally, since I've been trained out of advocating for what I want (or even noticing I want something), I've noticed I fall back on tactics anywhere from asking very leading questions to gradually pushing people's boundaries to get what I want, and a bunch of other behaviors that aren't supporting anyone. it doesn't help that a life of masking has given me a very analytical brain for social interactions. this is something I'm working on, obviously, but I imagine that there must be other autistic people who subconsciously find themselves unable to ask for what they want but also still...wanting things and having to figure out (unfortunate) ways to get them.

This is SUCH a great message, thank you for sending it. And yet another of the reasons why I hate the victim-perpetrator binary. Most Autistic people have been victims of immense boundary violation and disrespect. We're a highly marginalized, disenfranchised group! And we ALSO develop ineffective or manipulative coping strategies to deal with this reality a lot of the time, and have been taught to use them by our families and communities!

I have fallen back on many of the exact same strategies you've mentioned here, and more. I've taken on responsibility for other people's problems in a codependent way, hoping they'd magically notice all that I was doing for them and intuit what they should do for me; i've tried fixing other people's interpersonal problems for them and passed "benevolent" (I thought) gossip behind their backs; I've tried controlling people's behavior ""for their own good"" hoping that if they needed me, they'd love me; I've made passive aggressive remarks, aggressive remarks, and given people the cold shoulder. I've played "the game" with friends and partners and been artificially chilly so that I never seemed like I liked or needed them "too much", I've cried and beaten myself up when criticized in a way that has silenced or scared other people, I've directed my meltdown energy at the wrong people, and on and on.

And I've seen a LOT of Autistic people pull this kind of manipulative, incommunicative, triangulating, controlling shit, and even outright abuse one another with such tactics, and it's so tragic, and it cannot be easily explained by one person having an "abusive personality" or belonging to a "dangerous group" and another person not having those attributes. Shit is complex and contextual. And we use the tools we have been taught to use and seen treated as typical in our communities. That means we can also learn our way out of using them -- but that has to be a social process too. No one just becomes a better person through guilt or sheer force of will.

[asteroidtroglodyte]

Ok so the Scientific Viewpoint is good for a lot of things, but for various historical and theological reasons it has a hard time explaining Fungus, so if you’ll allow me to be poetic & nonChristian:

The World is Alive. Just as you have organs made of cells, The World has Lineages made of organisms. The Lineages are like your organs: they perform tasks, and the interwoven products of their tasks create the ecosystem, just as the interwoven labors of your organs produce you.

The Producers, like Trees and Algae and Grass, capture the sunlight. But! They cannot really live inside of things. Like, say, critically, soil. Fungus is that which lives inside. The colonization of land by Life occurred in many stages, but Plants and Fungus were first, and moved in together. it is worthy of note that over 85% of Plant Lineages have hookups in their roots to tap into The Great Mycorrhizae: the subterranean network of Fungal filaments which is the digestive system of The World. Those mushrooms that you can see are mere warts on the back of a beast that stretches from horizon to horizon, given the chance, and which feeds every forest you have ever walked through.

Animals are the Lineages that move. It is very important for coordinated movement to have a Body Plan that is Known, and so the type of Organisms we are most familiar with and most similar too are generally discrete. Specific.

Fungus and Plants are much less… picky, about morphology. A Tree may branch in many ways! A Human may only have 4 limbs. To be otherwise is to be Wrong. It does not harm the Oak to be Variable; it does harm the Human. And Funguses are threaded Organisms; they grow directionally, towards and into their Food, and their analogue to Sex often involves merging bodily.

…I am getting away from my point.

You could think of Fungus as the Digestive System of The World. In this metaphor, Animals like Humans would be the Sense Organs, directing and coordinating, and Plants would be the Muscles and Bones, performing the actual work of Production. The Plants build it up, the Animals rearrange it, and the Fungus breaks it down, to feed it back to the Plants.

Again, the roots of almost all plants hook into the subterranean Fungal net. The ones that don’t are usually parasites, or have their own personal symbiote that they carry around with them (like the Morning Glory). Fungus and Plant are incomplete without each other. Our urge to dissect and vivisect, to cut away, has blinded us to the Reality. Much the same way that many Plant’s reproductive cycles do not make sense in an Animal-free context, the life of Fungus is similarly interwoven with the flesh of the Plants.

This is what I mean when I say there are weaknesses to the Academic Viewpoint. Many Living Things make little to no sense Out Of Context, and the Scientific Method is all about removing context. Powerful, but not omniscient.

tell me something nice

[novvabee]

Just imagine poly!marauders x reader who decides to go on a holiday trip together but when they arrive there is the classic one-bed-trope (or maybe two and they argue on who gets to share the bed with reader) and she’s all shy bc even though they live together she never spent a night with them in the same room, specially on the same bed!

(Btw, are you planning on getting them together?)

hehehe soooo... I am planning on it, but for right now I live for the pining and the wholesome moments without them being together. anyways here is part 9.

And They Were Roommates pt.9

Summary:reader and the boys go on a trip, one bed trope, it's cute

word count: 1.9k

You and the boys decided to go on a little weekend getaway. You all decided to go to some classic touristy spots like the zoo and aquarium, which the boys definitely loved, and a history museum, which for some reason really fascinated James and Sirius, they stopped at nearly every attraction and stared in awe, especially when it came to the dinosaur fossils. 

You chalked it up to them being typical boys and found it almost comical, they acted like they had never seen some of the stuff.

After a long day filled with fun, you were in need of a rest. Luckily, you and the boys had rented rooms at a hotel nearby, knowing that it would be too far a journey to go back home at the end of the day.

After a quick bite to eat at a cute little cafe, you and the boys made your way to the hotel. It was a short journey, just up the road from where you had been spending the whole day.

“I just don’t understand,” Sirius said while walking to the hotel, “Those paintings, they were pretty, but why were they in a museum? They didn’t even move.” 

You laughed and continued walking. “Of course they don’t move Siri, they’re paintings.” you replied. 

Sirius opened his mouth, looking like he was going to question you, but Remus nudged him and shook his head at Sirius, halting him from asking any more silly questions. 

You reached the lobby of the regal hotel you were to stay at. Remus told the three of you to wait, that he would check in and grab the keys. You hung back with Sirius and James and talked about all the fun animals you saw. James was recalling a particular shark that he liked when Remus returned to the group.

“Uh, small problem,” He started, making the three of you turn your attention to him, “There's been a mix up with the rooms.”

You furrowed your brows, what kind of mix up could there possibly be? You thought you booked everything correctly. “What do you mean ‘mix up’?” you asked.

Remus sighed. “Well uh, instead of two rooms with two beds each, there’s two rooms with one bed.”

“Oh,” you said. “That’s not a problem, we can share, right?” you looked at the other boys. They nodded in agreement.

“Ok, how do we want to split the rooms then?” Remus asked.

“I’ll go with Y/N.” James said in a rush.

Sirius looked at him and scoffed. “That is like calling dibs on someone, you can't-”

“I didn't call dibs on her, I just said-”James interrupted. They began talking over each other.

“-Look, personally, I think it’s just unfair if-”

“-shut up Sirius”

“James kicks in his sleep.” Sirius turned to comment to you.

“Do not!” James defended himself

“Yes you do! Tell that to all the bruises I have acquired over the years!” Sirius shot back at him.

“Maybe I kick because you toss and turn constantly-” James was interrupted again, this time by Remus.

“Boys,” he said calmly, having had to break up these types of arguments many times, “How about we let Y/N decide who she wants to room with, yeah?”

With that, all the attention was now directed at you. “Oh. I don’t mind, I can share with whoever,” you said, not wanting to hurt anyone’s feelings by picking one person over the other two. 

Remus sighed and turned to the other two boys. He muttered something to them and they all agreed by nodding, then broke into a game of stick and stones. This made you giggle, so incredibly childish of them, but so incredibly amusing to you. You thought for a moment that maybe they were playing to see who would be stuck with you, that maybe none of them actually wanted to share a bed with you. But this theory of yours was proven wrong when Remus was eliminated and swore at the other two. You giggled again.

James and Sirius continued until Sirius groaned and threw his head back, James laughing in victory. He swung an arm around you and said, “Looks like you’re stuck with me tonight, love.” James grabbed one room key from Remus, and started to lead you two to your room. 

Before you made it very far, Sirius whispered to you “I’m not joking he kicks.”

You smiled and bid Remus and Sirius goodnight before making your way to your room.

James, always the gentleman, carried your bag for you and opened the door for you when you reached the correct room. You shuffled in and took a look around. The room was quite big and luxurious. 

The bed was king sized, so you were a little more relieved. You walked in and plopped yourself right in the middle of it. James set your bag down and looked around the room as well. 

“Oh uh, I can sleep on the floor or something by the way. I’m sure there’s extra pillows and blankets in the closet.” He said.

You sat up and looked at him. “No! Don’t be ridiculous James, I’m not making you sleep on the floor.” you laughed. “Besides, there’s plenty of room for both of us in this bed.” you pat the spot next to you.

James was blushing but trying to play it cool. “Ok, as long as you’re ok…”

You rolled your eyes at him but smiled. He sat on the bed next to you.

“So is it true?” you asked, looking up at him.

“Is what true?” he asked back.

You laughed and replied “That you kick.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “No… I mean maybe. How should I know I’m asleep.” he laughed.

“Have you and Sirius shared a bed a lot? I mean… for him to bring it up…” you said, trying to not make it seem like you were asking something too personal. You have seen them laying together often on the couch… you knew they were close and often brushed it off as something they did as friends, that they were just cuddling and affectionate. But know… know you weren’t too sure, with Sirius’s comment and all. Maybe they were more than friends…

James chuckled again and thought for a moment. Then he replied, “Yeah we have… when we were younger, in school, he would climb into my bed a lot when… well, Sirius doesn’t have a particularly great family. So when he would get sad or stressed or… I don’t know… if he’d have any feelings relating to it, he’d often climb in my bed. We’d talk about it, or sometimes just lay there, then eventually we would fall asleep.” he turned to you to continue. “Then when he was about 16, he ran away from home and came to live with me. For a while we only had one bed,” he laughed, “but we didn’t really mind. It wasn’t until Remus came to live with us that we all got our separate rooms.”

“Wait,” you said a bit confused, “Remus came to live with you too?”

James nodded. “Yeah, a little while after Sirius did. Remus also has… a complicated family history. So yeah… we’ve all shared beds but… I guess we just like to be close to each other.”

You felt so bad, so guilty for bringing it up. You thought that maybe… but it was actually much worse, sadder. “Oh…” you said, because that was really the only thing you could say. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to bring-”

“Oh no! It’s fine.” James stopped you. “We're all the better for it.” He smiled.

You nodded but still felt a little bad. You hopped up and told him you were going to shower quickly. He said alright and that he would find something to watch for the two of you. Showereng, you still felt awful for assuming that maybe they had slept together, when in reality, they were just boys who were affectionate, and… ugh.

You dried off and changed into some comfy clothes, stepping out into the cold bedroom.

James was already in some sleeping pants and a hoodie, leaning back on the headboard, staring at the tv screen. “I found two movies we could watch either Jurassic World or Mulan, but if I had to pick… I’d wanna watch Jurassic World.” he said, looking at you with pleading eyes.

“You really liked the dinosaur exhibit today didn’t you?” you laughed.

“I really liked the dinosaur exhibit.” he echoed and smiled at you, turning the movie on.

You climbed into bed right alongside him, also leaning against the headboard. You two watched the movie and talked for a while longer before either of you got tired. It was midnight when both of you decided to sleep, knowing that it would be an early morning.

“Y/N?” James’s voice sounded from beside you.

“Hmm” you answered, trying to get comfortable.

“Is it ok if I take my shirt off?” he asked.

You froze completely. James was incredibly fit and you would be lying if you said you didn’t love the thought of sleeping next to him shirtless. But it was just like him to ask before doing it, to make sure he wasn’t making you uncomfortable at all.

“U-uh yeah go for it.” you stammered. Thank god he had already turned off the lights or else he would see the red hue staining your face. 

He pulled off his hoodie and threw it across the room. You turned onto your side, away from him as you heard him say “Goodnight Y/N”.

“Goodnight,” you replied.

You couldn’t sleep immediately, the one reason being that you were under the AC, which, after being in the shower, made you so much colder. You tried to pull the comforter up more, but James turned to you.

“You alright, love?” he asked.

“Yeah, just cold.” you said, trying to keep your teeth from chattering. James got up and found his hoodie from where he threw it and handed it to you.

“Oh no,” you began to protest, but it was no use, he was already bunching it up over your head. You gave in and let him slip the warm fabric over your body.

“Better?” he asked.

“A little,” you said as he climbed back into bed, truthfully, it did help, but you were still slightly cold.

You felt the bed shift, then felt his arms around you. If you weren't blushing before, you definitely were now. You made to protest, to say that it was ok and that he didn’t have to but before you could get a word out James shushed you.

“Shh, I run very warm.” he said sleepily, and it was true. He was like a human furnace, like a heated blanket wrapped around you.

You smiled and curled up to get more comfortable. You must have accidentally brushed James’s leg while doing so because he let out a yelp then a laugh.

“Why are your feet so cold!” he whisper shouted, making you giggle and apologize.

“I run very cold.” you joked. 

You both layed there, getting warm and dozing off. You wished you could feel it every night, it was like the sun was shining perfectly on you, you could get used to this. But he was your roommate and you didn’t want to make anything weird between you all, even if that meant never feeling warm enough in bed again.

i hope this is good... idk. also james got what he wanted from last part lmao

Taglist💌: @too-efn-old-to-be-here @cometsghost @eeviee4 @giuli-in-earth @spicybearnaise @the-lavender-girl @adharalikethestar @champomiel @itsleroyposts @enamoredwithbella @babymash @ilovejamespottersomuch @liszblog @sammyreid @kiaslily @idkman5335 @willowlovestheweasleys @lady-balem

[joicecubes]

my take on this scene (arcane s2 act 2 spoilers. obviously)

if you’re active within the arcane fandom space recently i’m sure you’ve at least stumbled across the discourse where someone interpreted this exchange to be vi “realizing jinx is a better older sister” or something. personally i think it’s a lot less about comparison and a lot more about guilt.

vi has felt responsible for jinx her entire life. she was her protector when they were kids. she abandoned her after vander, milo, and claggor’s deaths leading silco to take her in. jinx went on to work for him. she killed caitlyn’s mother in the council meeting explosion. everything jinx has done and every horrible thing she’s experienced has been a direct result (at least in vi’s mind) of her own failures as an older sibling. and despite her guilt, eventually she forced herself to accept that powder didn’t exist anymore. even more painful, that since she’s the one who caused jinx to be this way, she also has to take responsibility and stand by caitlyn’s side in ensuring jinx won’t hurt anyone else.

but she fails. jinx runs free, vi wallows in her breakup sorrows, and the next time they see each other, jinx… has changed. and she has that same kid with her from their fight. and she’s come to vi willingly for her help.

i think vi is thinking a lot of things when she sees jinx comforting isha. surprise, firstly, to see this side of jinx she hasn’t seen since they were kids. the jinx she knows is a shell of her former self, changed beyond belief, and yet vi watches as jinx softens and treats isha with so much care. helps her dust herself off, says something vi might’ve said to powder what feels like a lifetime ago. “still got all your insides?”

the truth of it is, it’s not jinx being a better older sister than vi was. it’s jinx emulating what vi once was to her, and i think vi catches onto that. she’s watching as an outsider now, jinx and isha paralleling what her and powder’s relationship used to be like and i think it would make sense if the strongest thing she’s feeling right now is longing. how devastating it is that their relationship feels so irreparable, how deeply she wishes she hadn’t hurt powder so long ago.

but there’s also hope in her asking “why’d you come get me? you don’t actually need my help.” sure, she’s still bitter. how could she not be, after everything that’s happened between them? but she recognizes that jinx doesn’t need her anymore, it becomes especially clear seeing jinx taking care of someone else like vi used to take care of her. so why seek her out? why drag her all the way out here? there’s a deep, wounded, guilty part of her that’s desperate for reconciliation, so she reaches for it. especially now that she has no one else.

they make me so sad :(

[kikiiswashere]

Four to Tango

As promised, part two of Waltzing for Three!!!

Thank you for helping me reach 200 followers for this little ol' blog of mine 🥰 And welcome to all the newcomers!

The idea for this ficlet was born of watching my bestie @sand-sea-and-fable help out a pregnant friend by lifting her belly off her hips, and it just sort of spiraled from there.

It's also worth noting that I myself am not a mother, nor have I given birth, nor do I wish to be a mom (husband got the ol' snip-snip). So why this fic? Good question 😅

That being said, I did my best to write about the labor process relatively accurately without getting into the super nitty-gritty of it 😂 So, please enjoy this weird little fever-dream of a fic, and please comment and reblog 💗

Tags for the interested parties: @luhmoon, @legendaryflowercheesecake, @thebeserkvernid, @miffysoo

Pairing: Established Silco x AFAB!Reader

Rating: Teen/Mature (brief reference to oral sex)

CW: Non-graphic descriptions of pregnancy and labor

Insistent cramping had woken you up in the wee-hours one morning, swelling and ebbing in a slow rhythm that sent your heart tapping, a loop of nerves coiling around your gut – little room that there was for it.

Silco had been a terribly light sleeper ever since Vander’s betrayal, ever since those early years on an under-tested Shimmer variant that left his brain unable to fully settle. So, the moment you shifted into a sitting position, he shot up as well.

“What’s wrong?”

Words got gummed up on fear and excitement in your mouth. There was a slight tremor in your fingers as they grazed over your belly. You had noticed it sitting even lower on your hips these past several days. While you were very done with being pregnant, you were still nervous and surprised to say –

“I think it’s time.”

With comical amounts of speed, but awe-inspiring grace, Silco flung himself from the bed, divesting himself of his eyepatch and pajamas. After changing into a simple set of trousers and an old button-up shirt, he fetched the stopwatch Jinx had invented to easily time your contractions, and wrote a tube prompting your midwife that she was needed. It had been decided early on that the babe’s delivery – barring any complications – would happen at The Last Drop. You, nor Silco, were willing to venture outside to a clinic when your family would be at its most vulnerable.

Too nervous to lay down, much less fall back asleep, you began pacing the large bedroom in your large sleep shirt. Every time a contraction locked up and spasmed through your lower belly and back, your fingers pressed the stopwatch’s clicker. And you breathed as the midwife had instructed. Silco kept you company, walking with you up and down the length of the bedroom, holding your hand and becoming an anchor to squeeze when contractions rolled through. Together, you both noted and kept track of their intervals. Their spacing  and length suggested that the little one’s arrival was not imminent, but the consistency indicated that this was indeed labor.

The midwife arrived, ushered in by a half-asleep Sevika. You’d bribed her with an absurd bonus and several pre-paid sessions at Babette’s for her to crash in one of the Drop’s private guest rooms during these last days of your pregnancy. She was needed for security, and to stand-in for Silco when his attention and priorities would be elsewhere.

“Good luck,” she’d grumbled, barely glancing at you before shutting the bedroom door, and trudging back down the hall.

The midwife was a petite, wizened Vastaya who’d been selected for her services not only because of her field prowess, but because she was staunch loyalist to you and Silco. Shimmer had helped save more than one of her clients when the birthing process had begun to go sideways, and that was enough for her to hitch her wagon to your agenda.

She was also direct to the point of rudeness – a personality trait that was wholly welcome given the slippery, hidden, self-serving rhetoric you were used to having to deal with.

“Time?” she asked, setting her medical bag down on your dresser with a heavy thunk.

“Forty-five seconds to a minute, about every seven minutes,” you answered. Then gasped and doubled over as another contraction bent you.

The midwife hummed. “How long?”

“About an hour,” Silco said. He squeezed back at your hand as you rode out the current wave rolling through.

Clucking her tongue, the midwife shook her head, long ears slapping lightly against her horns.

“Early.”

Silco frowned. “You are being more than thoroughly compensated to show up whenever we ask.”

“Indeed. To the bed, miss. Let’s have a look.”

Once your legs were freed from the lock of the contraction, you shuffled to the bed. Silco helped you into position, and the midwife closed in. Her fingers were warm, but the tools were cold. The combination, along with your nerves, caused your lungs to shudder.

“Five,” she declared, drawing her head from between your thighs.

“That’s halfway,” you chuckled weakly. Silco brushed his thumb over your knuckles

The midwife hummed in agreement. “True. But as discussed, this process is not linear. And being your first delivery, it is very likely this will take a while. How is the pain?”

“Fine. Manageable.” It came out as a grit, but she didn’t seem to doubt you.

“You should eat and drink while you can. Is there anything else you want or need right now?”

Together, you and Silco walked to the small kitchen in your private quarters. You rested your forearms on the counter as the length of your spine hammocked behind you, hips gently swishing side-to-side. Silco kept the breakfast blissfully simple: toast with a light slather of butter, and a mug of warmed water with lemon.

Eating was slow going. Between the jitters and contractions, your appetite was seriously curbed. When you finally made it to the second piece of toast, Jinx shuffled into the kitchen, bleary-eyed and bed-headed. Her bedraggled demeanor did not last long though, as her whip-quick senses tuned into the energy of the space. Big, blue eyes tracked between Silco – unusually underdressed – and your strange posture. One could nearly hear the cogs in her head clicking and whirring.

“Is it time?!”

In a flash, she clambered onto the stool next to you, bright and tittering. Her exuberance washed over you in a relieving breeze. Reaching over, you ran a hand through her unkempt hair.

“Sure is, kiddo.”

“When will he be here?”

“Could be a while yet, Jinx,” Silco answered. He set a glass of juice in front of her. “What would you like? Toad-in-the-hole? Porridge? Pancakes?”

“Make ‘em have a face!” she crowed.

A hook of a smile pulled at Silco’s mouth as he turned back toward the stove.

Jinx settled onto the stool; legs kicking merrily beneath her as she sipped her juice.

“What does it feel like?”

“Like intense menstrual cramps.”

Her small face squished in a ponder. While you had had that conversation with her, Jinx had yet to broach into that aspect of puberty. Thus, she had no point of reference.

“Kinda like when you roof-run after eating, and your abs cramp up,” you offered. “Kind of.”

A contraction swelled upon you, and you grit your teeth, face pinching, head dropping. Silco stepped away from the stovetop, and placed a grounding hand between your shoulder blades. Jinx watched, eyes wide and worried. Timidly, she shifted toward you, pressing her forehead to your shoulder.

The pain continued, but was temporarily numbed by the overwhelming love and gratitude for the two people on either side of you.

Your family.

It was never part of the plan when it came to your Silco’s ideas to lift Zaun up, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. And in a few hours, three would be four. Your heart beat big, tapping against your throat as the contraction passed. You clicked the stopwatch.

“That seems worse than roof-run cramps,” Jinx said suspiciously.

You chuffed. “Like I said: Kind of.”

Silco rubbed his hand up and down your spine a few times, before kissing your temple and returning to the stove.

“You remember what we talked about?” you asked Jinx.

She fiddled with her hair, nodding. “I can come and go as I please.”

“Right. If you want to be with us, I want you to be there. If you don’t, that’s fine, too. You get to decide, and it doesn’t have to be right now.”

Jinx nodded again, eyes staring into the middle-distance. Reaching over, you brushed your fingers through her hair again. Her eyes snapped back to yours.

“Are you scared?”

You gave her a reassuring smile.

“No. I’m happy.”

It wasn’t a lie. But a few hours later, your happiness was thoroughly overshadowed by the pain of labor. It was staggering how it had intensified. How it was becoming near non-stop as the space between contractions shortened and shortened. Gravity felt impossible to contend with on top of everything else, so you sank onto your bedroom floor with a low, guttural growl.

Silco had been attentive throughout, anticipating your needs before you even voiced them. Ever your anchor, your source for steadiness. Even now, on your hands and knees, his own wide palms settled onto your hips and pressed in. It pulled an appreciative groan from your throat.

“You’re doing so well, my love.”

“It doesn’t feel like it.”

Your eyes flicked to the bathroom door where Jinx was helping the midwife prepare a warm bath. You were proud of your girl. Admittedly, part of you doubted she would choose to stick around once labor became loud and more intense. When you could no longer keep yourself from crying out, hesitancy had flickered in her eyes, and her brows pitched in concern. But instead of dashing away, she’d reached for your hand and held tight.

“Is there anything you can give her?” she’d asked the midwife incredulously.

The female had smirked, impressed and moved by the girl’s protectiveness of you.

“I have mild pain relievers, but nothing that will fully numb – “

“Shimmer?”

The midwife’s black lips thinned. “That is only to be used in emergencies,” she explained. “It is too potent and powerful to be used for anything other than the most extreme circumstances. Which – “her eyes looked up at your haggard form on the bed – “does not seem probable. Her labor is progressing as it should. There is nothing to worry about.”

Jinx frowned, doubtful, and hunkered closer to your side.

“Seems like a dumb design that it hurts so much.”

“Agreed,” you wheezed.

“Come,” the midwife said, “let’s check you.”

She declared you’d progressed to eight centimeters. That had been three hours ago. And the pain just continued to climb and build.

A small sob burst through your teeth. Silco knelt at your side, quietly saying your name.

“I’m scared, Sil,” you admitted in a whisper. You were thankful Jinx wasn’t near to hear you back-pedal. Your breath hitched and words tumbled out: “I don’t know if I can do this.”

He took your warm and tear-streaked face between his hands, and repeated your name.

“Look at me.”

Reluctantly, your tired and wet eyes focused on his face. He looked at you with fierce earnestness, thumbs sweeping across the apples of your flushed cheeks. Suddenly, part of you grieved that the baby would never know Silco without his scars. Or yours. Outside and in.

Silco called your name again.

“Look at me,” he repeated. Your eyes slid back to his. Blue and red pinned you in place. “You can do this. I’ve not met anyone more tenacious, nor strong, nor as spirited as you. Those are but a few of the reasons I fell in love with you so long ago.” His eyes softened now; his adoration made plain. “You’ve absolutely no reason to doubt yourself.”

A small hiccup bubbled from your mouth, and you pressed your face into the warmth of his palm, breathing him in deeply. Not having properly dressed for the day, he hadn’t put any cologne on. The natural terra-sweet scent of his skin filled your nose. You were grateful for his support, respect, and belief in your abilities. A sudden, silly thought flitted across your mind.

“Not my dance moves?”

A single amused breath huffed from his throat. That infinitesimal smirk – one of the reasons you’d fallen in love with him – appeared on his lips. His blue eye flashed; as it often did when an idea struck him. Silco lifted to his feet, and used a strong grip to pull you to yours. He guided your arms to loop around his shoulders and neck, while his went to your low back. A weary chuckle left you as you understood. Your cheek was a relieved, heavy weight against his shoulder. It had to be a strange sight, this dance configuration: with your body slouched against his, massive belly hanging between you two. Slowly, your feet began gently shifting side-to-side.

“Admittedly,” he murmured against your crown, “your dance moves leave something to be desired right now.”

You laughed, even as another contraction swelled within you. Silco’s hands firmed up on your body, holding you upright as it moved through your body.

“I’ll make it up to you,” you hissed as most of the pain subsided. It was such now that there was no longer any real relief.

“A dance and a suck job? Lucky me.”

Your fingers pinched Silco’s upper back, and you felt the tremor of silent laughter in his shoulders.

“Tub’s ready!” Jinx sang as she flounced out of the bathroom.

Managing to smile at her, despite another great, contracting swell that threatened to bring you to your knees, you took her hand. Silco kept a strong arm wrapped around your middle, and you followed Jinx into the humid warmth of the bathroom.

The water helped. Its heat soothed your pained muscles and aching bones. The irony was not lost on you that you found peace in it. After a few minutes of settling into the tub, you gave Silco a look that to anyone else may have seemed like nothing. But he caught the message in your eyes, and tucked himself close to the tub’s edge, taking your hand. Jinx huddled herself into his lap, nervously fingering the buttons on his shirt.

About an hour later, the midwife’s large ears flicked in your direction as the quality of your breath shifted, as the sounds leaving you turned deeper and more animal. Her deft hands slipped into the water and between your legs.

“Something changed,” you gasped, hunching slightly. “It feels like – “

“It’s time,” she said, pulling her hands from the water. Somehow, she’d also stripped your underwear off in the same movement without you noticing. “It’s time to push.”

Push. The word settled into your body with a deep, innate knowing.

Yes. That’s what you were feeling. The near uncontrollable need to bare down. An old, predetermined instinct washed over you. You could do this.

But you did not want to do it alone.

“Sil.”

The grit of his name and the way you shifted yourself forward spurred your partner into understanding. Swiftly, he stood, deposited Jinx onto the stool he’d vacated, and then stepped into the tub, sliding in behind you. Settling against his chest, your hand ferociously intertwined with his. His heart beat firmly against your back.

“You can do this,” he whispered into your ear.

“Give me your other hand, dear,” the midwife said. You did so and she guided it under the water, preparing you to feel and catch. “Push.”

“Push! Push!” Jinx cried, her little fists pumping and bopping in the air madly.

Gritting your teeth, you did just that. A sound you didn’t know you were capable of making burst from your lungs. When the air ran out, you slumped against Silco’s chest.

“Breath in,” the midwife demanded. You did so. “Push!”

You did again, a roar ripping from your chest. A roar that ended in a surprised yip as something into your hand.

“Again,” the midwife demanded.

And you complied, baring down with everything you had. With all the might and tenacity and power your body could exert. Another battle cry echoed off the bathroom tiles, and a solid weight slid into your hand. You ripped your other hand from Silco’s grip, and pulled a wriggling newborn from the water.

“It’s a boy!” Jinx yelled, bouncing up and down in her seat.

Her brother’s face squidged, and his pink mouth opened in an announcing wail. You joined in and pulled the babe to your chest. Silco went very still behind you, scarcely breathing. Then his hands appeared over yours, cradling the baby at your chest. Like on the night you’d taken in Jinx, he pulled his legs up around you both and held tight.

Later, once the placenta had passed (something Jinx was equally horrified and enthralled by) you were helped out of the tub, and cleaned. The midwife tied off the babe’s umbilical cord, and once some time passed, you watched with an incredibly full heart as Silco severed it.

You weren’t sure if you’d ever seen the expression on your partner’s face. A soft, careful, wonderous thing. Then it hit you all at once. You were watching Silco fall in love. The notion took your breath away and fresh tears welled in your eyes. Jinx clung to you, and you to her.

“Thank you for being with me, Jinx. It helped.”

The girl beamed up at you, holding on tighter.

“I think it is your turn for a shower, sir,” the midwife said, twisting off the umbilical nub.

Silco watched her hands like a hawk as she did. He slid in once she finished, and wrapped him in a blanket Jinx had decorated. It was a small thing, but you caught the tremor in his hands. Keeping Jinx tucked against your side, you came to stand next to him.

“He’ll be here when you get out of the shower,” you whispered, voice hoarse.

“Yeah! Go get the baby juice off you!” Jinx ordered.

Silco’s expression of awe turned to one of bemusement as he glanced at your daughter.

“Yes. I suppose I should.”

Your own hands shook a bit as you gathered your son – your son! You wondered if the shock would wear off – and ushered Jinx to follow the midwife out of the bathroom.

With no small amount of effort, your body, beyond sore and exhausted, climbed into bed. The baby cooed and nuzzled and fussed against your chest as you settled into the pillows and duvet. Jinx climbed in on the opposite side, and snuggled close.

“He’s already sleeping!”

“It’s hard work being born. Don’t you remember?” you chuckled.

Jinx laughed, “No!”

A small smile curled the midwife’s mouth as she snapped her bag shut. She turned to you and bowed her head.

“Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” you said, eyes on your boy. Then you lifted them to hers, and said again, “And thank you.”

She nodded again, horns catching the light in the room.

“It was my honor.”

She gave you and the baby one last cursory check over, and took her leave.

A few moments after she left, there was a knock on the door, and Sevika stuck her head in.

“Ogre!” Jinx cried. “I gotta brother!”

Even Sevika’s presence couldn’t dampen Jinx’s mood.

Silco’s lieutenant grunted, and stepped over to the bed. She stayed at a distance though, craning her neck to peer down at you and the baby.

“Yep. That’s a baby. Congrats.”

“Thank you, Sevika.”

Behind her, Silco emerged from the foggy bathroom in a fresh pair of slacks and an unbuttoned shirt. Sevika tilted her strong chin in his direction and he nodded back.

“I’ll leave you all to it then,” she said.

Her poncho twirled as she spun back to leave. As she and Silco crossed paths, a metal finger tip whipped out from beneath the red fabric, and poked his bare belly. He jolted and shuddered. He sneered at her, but she just snickered and slipped out of the room.

Silco shook his head, damp hair beginning to curl at the ends. He rounded the bed, and climbed in, sandwiching Jinx between your bodies. He leaned over the girl’s head and kissed you.

“What’re we gonna name him?” Jinx pipped.

You and Silco exchanged a look.

“I’m not sure,” you admitted.

“I’m sure we’ll come up with something.” he added.

Immediately, Jinx began rattling off all her suggestions.

Before a name could be decided, you fell asleep. Jinx followed shortly after; her plump cheek pressed against your shoulder. Gingerly, Silco lifted the baby from your arms, and brought him to his bare chest. The boy tensed, and then melted, a small wispy sigh leaving him.

Silco melted, too; a foreign, near indescribable softness filling him up. He brought his hand to the boy’s back, its length and width nearly covering all of him. His son was so small.

His son. His son.

Emotions gripped him so intensely he nearly choked.

Elation, love, fear.

Grief.

There was grief that his child was born technically as a citizen of Piltover. But that anguish was small compared to the other one that had been tucked away in the scar tissue of Silco’s heart ever since you had told him of the pregnancy. A pain that he hated he harbored.

The secret grief was that Vander wasn’t here to see this. The grief that his Brother had ruined any chance of participating in this milestone. The grief of Vander’s death (justified though it was) was scratched open as Silco’s son lay on his heart. The grief that, had things gone differently, Silco would’ve named the boy after his Brother.

“Sil.”

Silco’s head whipped around at the sound of your voice. Your beautiful, exhausted, beautiful face shone up at him. There was a smile on your lips that he wished to taste, so he leaned over Jinx’s head again and pressed his mouth to yours. 

“I told you you could do it,” he whispered leaning back. You smiled and nodded wearily.

The baby grunted and shifted against Silco’s chest, and he pet the back of his head so, so softly. It broke your heart into a million pieces, and then they jumped right back together. Your eyes slid back up to your partner’s profile.

You felt his grief, because it was yours, too.

“I know, Silco,” you whispered. He looked over to you. Jinx snored softly between. “I wish it had been different, too.”

Silco’s eyebrow dropped, and his lips softened. He glanced down at the baby on his chest, and chuckled ruefully.

“I truly don’t know what to name him.”

You shrugged. “We’ll figure it out.”

He nodded. You sat in silence for a while, listening to your children breath. Jinx’s raspy breaths and the baby’s snuffling. It was music to your ears. You would never tire of hearing it.

Just as you were about to doze again, you felt Silco’s energy shift. Eyes sharpening onto him, you watched as he first gently ran his fingers over Jinx’s freckled cheek. Then, so carefully, he lifted the baby from his chest so he could look at his small face.

“You and your sister will have better than we did,” he promised. “Me and your mother will give you a nation.”

Your son’s eyes fluttered open and closed, the bud of his mouth stretching into what looked like a small smile. Your throat tightened horribly, and you tucked your nose into Jinx’s crown.

When you were sure you could speak without choking, you lifted your head and said, “We promise.”

I hope part two scratched the itch <3 If you enjoy my work and would like to support me (firstly, THANK YOU!) check out my Ko-Fi page!

ko-fi.com/kiki13

[dweamofsweep]

This side note is kind of just for my followers because I love to observe webs of influence and I would like to point out that, at least without context and not knowing either this poet/writer or the show involved, it IS possible that the show writers were influenced somehow by the poet’s work (not the other way around obviously bc their writing came first). For example, it’s not a coincidence that Cyborg 009’s finale is titled “From Here to Eternity” or that the ending itself bears similarities to Ray Bradbury’s “Kaleidoscope”; the concept of the cyborgs themselves was lifted from a magazine article; hell, the art style almost looks like the creator’s mentor’s style (Osamu Tezuka). Not to mention the character with code name “007” being British, or an American character named Jet Link (a reference to Jet Rink) and being part of a gang in NYC’s West Side that just so happens to be depicted dancing like they’re on Broadway…

Of course, I think the user asking the question directed it to entirely the wrong person 💀 you really ought to ask the creator of the show, if you’re wondering about what influenced its creation. How is this guy supposed to know anything about it 😭 no wonder he was annoyed

also maybe the connection being drawn here was just really stupid, but again I never saw this show so I wouldn’t know. Just saying not to dismiss the notion that maybe they are connected somehow. You never know!

Richard Siken… Richard Fucking Siken. You asked RICHARD SIKEN if his poems were inspired by BUDDIE. Gay men do not exist in people’s heads except as props huh?