#but then of course so many people are still doing that today

[curiousorigins]

As someone who had Chronic Pain for the first like 25ish years of my life... Abled people literally do not understand the concept of a pain that never goes away.

They literally can't.

It's impossible. It even felt impossible for me because my pain was so early and so consistent that my brain literally just ignored it until one day I was doing physical therapy for a different injury... and it was just gone.

I felt it's absence and I felt the best I've felt in 20+ years.

I hadn't had a particularly good meal that day. Still had my stomach issues. Slept badly. My back hurt. Probably dehydrated. Definitely had tooth pain. But that was literally the best I can in memory, had ever felt.

The closest experience I can describe to it, is when you've got an abscessed tooth and they relieve the pressure and the pain is just gone and it's wonderful.

If there is no absence of pain... there is no relief. You can't just sleep in and feel better. You can't just drink water and feel better or get a new pillow etc. That's just your new default.

Now as someone who had previously considered myself abled who now has had an official disabled tag on me and all that... (I for the most part lucked out with a temporary disability. But know that plenty disabilities are chronic, permanent or get worse the longer you go.) I felt I was educated that I was an advocate but absolutely nothing prepared me for my body failing me so consistently. I listened to disabled folks and tried to amplify their voices.

I 100% was the person to go to bat for people who were in pain on my team. The problem is that for many people, pain is temporary. With rest, it goes away. With healing it gets better.

Most of those folks are sadly not educated. And conceptually it's a hard concept to work on despite all the empathy in the word.

The bigger the chain, the less likely that the person making the schedule can just hire another person and of course we all know companies have been understaffing on purpose for decades. This is definitely a Worker Rights issues. We've got a toxic working environment almost everywhere and the majority of the Working Class that's still working literally does not remember it being any better. You absolutely deserved better. And You definitely could use the support of an Advocate. I got in multiple fights on the behalf of co-workers all the time for these kind of issues. And when I was temporarily injured on the job, I had co-workers who fought for me too. The problem is people don't understand that we must stand together for this. For the abled folks, this is a temporary problem... just like their managers have been telling them understaffing is a temporary problem.

Look at your disabled co-workers folks and realize... one day that's going to be you. We literally all will at some point most likely be classed as disabled in some way. Sometimes permanently and sometimes not.

What you stand for TODAY is what might be left for you when it's your turn. Your managers/middle manager answer to a higher power then you and that is the greed of a very rich guy who literally sees you all as EXPENSES not VALUE.

DO NOT sacrifice YOURSELF on the Alter to Someone else's greed.

I understand the job market is tough and there are crappy work places that reveal themselves as crappy slowly. But YOU help create the CULTURE at WORK. ANYTIME I overheard management complain about such and such an employees issue with scheduling or with their ability. I ALWAYS spoke up.

I mentioned what a hard worker they were. How we'd been short on people for a long time. How we all deserved to be staffed enough that every one of us should be able to leave for 2 weeks and not have the store fall apart. I made people team lift. Reminded them that Corporate could not give them a new spine.

I trained most folks to speak up. And the more I did it, the more of use who would speak up.

And United We Bargain Divided We Beg.

The primary thing a manager is supposed to do is keep us compliant enough to work. Disgruntled rumblings are powerful when echoed.

Speak Up. Speak Up about TEMPORARY PAIN caused by WORK. TEMPORARY PAIN becomes PERMANENT PAIN if allowed to CONTINUE. PAIN is your body's FIRST attempt to get YOU to STOP doing something THAT IS HARMING YOU.

They decided that our anti-fatigue mats were a hazard. (It was actually the fact that our Stockroom was too small for the Stock they sent us and our Staff couldn't clear it with no space to work.) And tried to remove them. Every one of us had our shoes wear sooner and we all had greater back pain. I made sure to voice how weird it is that I hurt more now that we didn't have those mats. Sometimes I'd even sit down when we were unloading the truck to give my back a rest. I'd tell my other co-workers to do as well.

If a manager had the power to bring them back came in when I was sitting... I'd interrupt their telling me off for sitting that I literally hurt and what the cause was. That I'd probably be going to the doctor soon.

(Be sure to document your work pain by texting (not work but also work) other people about it. About how you hurt because blah blah at work. You might need it to prove that they should be paying to fix you if you ever need doctoring or disability pay.)

We got the mats back.

I would like to see more people talk about how jobs treat disabled employees.

I used to prep, wash dishes, and cook at mellow mushroom. I had chronic pain that wasn't NEARLY as bad as it is today, but it was still very debilitating. I told my employer "i cannot stand more than 4 to 6 hours. I CANNOT do shifts longer than this due to my illness." And even though i made my boundaries VERY clear, everyday i worked it was 8 hours at the least and 10 or 12 at the most. I would go up to my manager and say "look i really need to leave, my shift is over, my chronic pain is killing me." And he'd say "we really need to here, you HAVE to push through." And so i did, and after one, ONE month of that job my crps got incredibly worse to the point where i could no longer walk my dog around the block which was .5 miles. I quit, and that was FOUR years ago, and ever since that day I HAVE BEEN BEDRIDDEN AND HAVE TO USE A WHEELCHAIR. It is my biggest regret in life.

My best friend who has seen my whole journey has recently developed undiagnosed chronic pain, and she is in the EXACT same scenario i was 4 years ago. Busting her ass at a pizza place with extreme pain that hurts her so much she tells me "im in so much pain i don't even feel like a person." She doesn't feel LUCID. And her manager and coworkers are saying the same thing "if you don't help us you will let us down, we'll be in the shit."

That job thats hurting you isn't fucking worth it. I promise you no money is worth losing all your physical abilities and never getting them back. Your coworkers and boss do not give a shit about you, so don't you dare suffer for them. They will never understand your struggle and they will never try. They truly think being understaffed is worse than whatever pain you experience. They would rather you permanently damage yourself than inconvenience them. FUCK THEM. DON'T FUCKING DO IT!

[slu7formen]

MDNI. luke castellan x fem!reader (halloween) 🎃

you prepare luke’s make-up for halloween night

warnings: just pure sexual tension 🫦

₊˚⊹♡

"You´ll be taking care of me, little Red Hood?" Luke asked, sitting down on the wooden chair placed in the middle of the room at cabin eleven.

Your silk red skirt brushed the back of your thighs as you turned around, cleaning the last bit of face paint from a thin brush. "I will, Mr. Castellan" you joked.

The cabin is packed, like most of the time, but today was for a different reason. A bunch of Hermes´ boys were getting their make up done by you and your sisters, the reason? Halloween night. It was kind of a tradition for the Aphrodite cabin to help out with the costumes for the big party. And as much as a pain it is to help all the campers, you couldn´t deny that it was fun to pick out what your friends should be dressing out as for tonight and then doing their makeup to match the costume, and right now, it was time to help the worst breed; the boys.

They were men, therefore, they were basic, they´ve all decided to dress up as skeletons.

Soft pop music was playing inside the cabin as you felt a faint smell of cherries and hot chocolate. It was a comforting yet fun place to be at right now, like a beauty salon, but chill and without the white lights and burning chemical smells. More of your sisters were currently taking care of some other boys´ make up, painting their faces in black and white scary features that would barely make them look human at night, and now, it was Luke´s turn.

Luke´s face was already quite chiseled, like those marble Greek statues. You stepped back a second to take a good look at his face; sharp features, big nose, small eyes, plushy lips. Good, this would be fun.

"Alright" you state, "Just stay still and let me do all the work"

You leaned in slightly, starting to draw the outline of Luke´s face with a white make-up pencil. You and Luke stood silent, unlike the rest of the campers who kept on chatting and screaming at each other due to failed skeleton features. You planned on doing the simple; a white or pale base with black features like eyes, nose, cheekbones and mouth, maybe even some shadows, just like you did with Connor and Travis, who specifically asked for you to prepare them.

"I didn´t know you were so good at this" Luke finally spoke, anticipating to break the ice a little.

"What can I say?" you smiled, "I have many hidden talents"

You continued on, working in the lines, making the transition between the white and his perfectetly tanned skin. He was such a lovely canvas, his skin was clean, and smooth. You were actually a little scared to end up making him look bad. "Your jawline´s perfect" you muttered as you dragged the pencil there, more to yourself than to him.

Luke chuckled, "Is it now?"

You only dart your eyes away from your work to look into his eyes for a second, then back to your progress. Your teeth barely show as you smile a little, glossy red lips only shining brighter. "Okay, don´t get all cocky now" you tease.

Luke was used to flirting with everyone he met, and of course, people flirting back. But seeing you so focused on his face, the pen working on his face with you so close to him, gave him a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach.

You felt so close. Luke could smell a faint scent of cherries coming from you, and the hairspray of your hair. He could almost feel the warmth of your body too, standing so close to him, your body leaning down towards his face, making him look upwards to take a look at your face. You hissed then, taking a soft grip of your lower back, "Shit" you whisper. You were uncomfortable, being hunched over for so long.

"You okay?" Luke asked.

"Yeah" you reply, "Just-, my back´s killing me. I´ve been like this for an hour" you explain, you´ve been in the same position for the past other two boys you prepared.

Luke looked concerned for a second. So he shifted on his seat then, opening his thighs, basically welcoming you.

You stood speechless, pencil in hand as you chuckled softly, unable to react, or move.

"Come on" he urged you softly, his eyes locking on yours as he patted his thigh. You knew he wasn´t inviting you to sit there, —even though he wouldn´t complain if you did—, rather than in between them. "I don´t bite"

You scoff then, shaking your pencil in between your fingers. Your boots step into the tiny space then, back straightened as you only have to look down to Luke´s face, "Sure you don´t" you reply.

He lets out a short chuckle, tilting his face up to maintain eye contact. The air feels weirdly tense. Your fingers take a soft hold of his chin as you tilt his head a little more up, dragging the pencil over the lines once again; just in case. Luke´s eyes remain open, taking a look at your costume.

A deep scarlet skirt almost too short paired with tall, heeled backboots and a white button-up that hugged your figure just perfectly, and the black corset over it did just the rest of the magic, along with, of course, the red silk cape and hood.

"You look great" he muttered out, trying to get a reaction out of you.

You stop your movements for a second, looking at him dead in the eye again, but with a serious face, only to go back to your job as if he said nothing. "Great doesn´t cover it" you reply, tilting your head slightly.

He chuckled at that. You had no idea how right you were. You were gorgeous in that outfit and he could swear you looked like a damn goddess, a vision come to life just to taunt him.

"Cocky-" he muttered with a playful smile.

"Don´t move" you interrupt, leaning down a little bit more just for a second, the thin pencil brushing past the outline of his lips.

Your face was closer to his now, the scent of his cologne made you feel lightheaded.

Luke had that type of aura; the one that was always surrounded by a nice scent. The type that made you want to lean in closer, the type that was warm and comforting, yet he was no sweet pea, but a little more rough. Manly, with his legs spread open like that for you to stand in between, or for you to sit whenever you liked.

And with his face so close to you, you made and observation; Luke was handsome.

Very.

Just when you finished tracing the outlines of his eyes, lips, and cheekbones, you turned around to dip a pencil into some black face paint. Luke remained politely silent, lips closed and hands over his thighs as he followed your every movement. He was watching you intently as you worked. You looked so focused and careful, like it was an important and serious job, and for gods sake, it was Halloween makeup. He wondered if you were just doing it so perfectly to impress him, which was working, and Luke had to admit it was cute to see you so fixated on his face.

He could feel his heart pound in his chest. Sitting there, having you so close, all he could think of was touching you. How could he not when you were wearing such clothes that he loved?

Of course he wouldn´t. He was patient, and he was very much enjoying the game so far. But you were so close , it was so tempting. And he did have a very bad self-control.

You took your sweet time blending the black paint over Luke´s face with a small brush. He was being an obedient boy, sitting still, with no smart remarks coming from his mouth. How rare.

He enjoyed just watching you, watching your expression change slightly as you applied more and more paint on, watching the tip of your tongue dart out of your mouth every once in a while. It was so hard to keep his hands tucked into balled-up fists on his thighs.

But he wouldn´t stop staring at you, your face.

But you stepped back, pencil on your hand and a small smile growing on your glossy lips, but your brows furrow. You were slightly confused. Luke stared back, not a single expression on his face. His face was sharp looking, focused, stone. And the black paint was doing nothing but only making him look more-, attractive.

"Don´t look at me like that" you smile barely, more confused than actually chilled about what was happening.

"Like what?" He asked, the black paint only remarking the scary and sharp features on his now painted face.

You looked a bit flushed, your makeup and hair perfect. But he wanted to mess it up , ruin it a little. He kept staring at you, not bating an eye. "Like-," you cut yourself off, turning slightly to the side to grab a different pencil before dipping it in more black face paint, "Like you´re undressing me with your eyes or something" you say, too shy to say the words loudly, stepping in between the space of his thighs again, too afraid that somebody else would hear you.

Oh, but Luke heard you just right.

He hums quietly, a smirk pulling at his lips at your embarrassed expression.

You´re standing there, in between his thighs again, and he has to force himself to keep his hands in place. He looked up at you, eyes focused on you as you applied the paint on him. And you were so concetrated on the task in front of you, on his face, you didn´t realise how badly he wanted you.

He was hungry, and it took every bit of his self-control to keep from touching you.

"Maybe I am" he responds quietly.

His voice is low, and the tone he uses makes you freeze. His eyes burn into your skin, like he´s daring you to respond, to say something, anything, back. And for the first time, you have nothing to say, no witty response. You just look back into his eyes.

And there is something in them, something that makes your heart beat faster.

He stares back, not moving, not speaking, and the tension is almost palpable. You swallow hard, your throat suddenly dry, and you try to ignore the way your body is reacting. Luke has never had this effect on you before.

“Perv" is the only thing you manage to reply, not even a full sentence, not even speaking fully, just whispering into his face as you go back to your task, you only wanted this to be over now.

You can tell by the way his shoulders are tense that he´s struggling not to move. But he doesn´t, and his silence makes your stomach twist and turn. You know he´s enjoying this, and the fact that he knows what he´s doing to you is almost enough to make you snap.

Luke saw the way he made you blush and trip into your own thoughts, and that was enough for him.

You remained awfully silent for the rest of the time, with Luke´s eyes still piercing through your soul until you´re done. "There" you say as you finish touching up the last bits of shadows onto his lips, "All done" you say softly, walking back to the small table to start cleaning brushes again.

Luke stood up, turning around to face you. His face was completely covered in white and black, his skin was unrecognizable.

He walked over to you slowly, and the way he was moving was almost predatory, like he was stalking his prey. You felt a shiver run down your spine, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. The rest of your sisters and his brothers didn´t seem to notice a thing or even try to look to your direction, too busy invested into their own conversations.

You grab a towel, and you feel it-, oh you feel it. Like when someone´s standing behind you, the cold feeling that drips down your spine, ready to attack. Luke places his hand on each side of the table, his chest so close to be pressing to your back, trapping you against the table; and you couldn´t even see him properly.

"Just a question-," he says, clearing his throat briefly, "How effective is the make-up remover?"

Your breathing hitches for a moment. His voice was ridiculously low and whispery against you. You swallow, and the room suddenly feels too hot.

“Um-" you reply, trying to focus on cleaning the brushes instead of the man standing right behind you. "Very. It´ll clean right away, don´t worry" you reply poorly.

"Oh-. no, I wasn´t asking because of me", he replies, and he leans in a little closer, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. You can feel the heat of his breath and it sends a jolt of electricity through your body, "I was asking for you. I don´t wanna leave any mark on your face after you´ve worked so hard on yourself"

Well, who would´ve though this guy was a poet? Hiding meanings behind words?

"That´s very considerate of you" you reply, trying not to sound too eager, but the way your voice cracks tells him all he needs to know.

Luke nods once, a smirk on his lips, and you can practically hear it in his voice. He leans down, his lips grazing the skin of your neck and his nose ghosting over the shell of your ear.

"I´ll make sure you find me", he whispers.

And with that, he steps back, his presence gone as fast as it arrived to the scene. Your hands tremble slightly as you finish putting the last brushes away, and your face burns hot. He had suddenly left you wanting, a feeling you didn´t even have when you first started working on him.

But you had to head back to your cabin now, and fuck-, were you mad you couldn´t get what you wanted now.

Luke surely knew he had started some type of game, your pretty little self caught in between his webs… but the night was only starting, and soon enough, you would be the one trapping him.

[dubina-dawkins]

STRESS

~850 words

>After long missions Ben is obviously stressed. What else can you do if not help him?

warnings/notes: smut, minors dni! oral (m receiving), female reader but there aren't many real descriptions other than calling reader a "heroine", no usage of y/n, no proofread I'm gonna die, ben is being canonically really rough, but there's just a bit of his softer side i wish was there in canon so maybe ooc, supe!reader, reader is a second captain of payback (like starlight in the third season but no parallels between starlight & homelander and reader & soldier boy)

REBLOGS WILL BE APPRECIATED!

It hadn't been a hard day, not even a hard week, it had been going on for a hell of a long time. Everyone was on edge, even Tessa and Tommy were exhausted, and if all those missions, he filming of that stupid movie Legend had insisted on, could exhaust the twins, whose energy had always burned like dynamite, pun intended, then obviously no one had any energy at all.

People deal with stress in different ways. Some people try to abstract themselves from society - that's what Mindstorm did, and something in you told him that if he missed one more training session, then as soon as his coat even looms in Soldier Boy's peripheral vision, Dan would be dead.

Some were trying to forget themselves in training, and some were trying to beat the crap out of them in training. And you, as co-captain of this incorrigible team, as a supe who still had some humanity left in her, it was unbearably painful to watch Ben take it out on the others. But not at you, of course. Of course not at you, you were fucking special.

For instance, you were special when you sat between his legs in the meeting room.

No, don't think anything terrible, Ben wasn't the kind of man who would force a woman to do something like that, after all, he may have been a bastard, a misogynist and...a lot of other bad things, but he was a real man of his time - or at least he thought he was. In his opinion, it was much more manly to get a woman to fall at his feet - in this case, literally.

No, it's just that after he almost smashed Black Noir's head on the table during today's meeting, you had no doubt that he could use some stress relief.

And who, if not the second captain of the Payback, America's No. 1 heroine, on a par with the Statue of Liberty, could help him, America's greatest hero, become even a little more forgiving? The answer was obvious: no one. Did you do it out of fear, Stockholm syndrome, or because the only humanity left in you somehow cherished the bastard? It wasn't that important. Not now, anyway.

Not when his big hand was clutching your hair, painfully pulling back and literally slamming your head into his lap again and again. His cock slammed into your throat with a sharp and tremendous pressure, and somewhere through the veil of your own pleasure in the process you could hear his absolutely animalistic growl. Well, knowing that you could bring him to such a primitive state fueled so much pride in your chest that you obviously grew bolder.

You could grip his shaft lightly with your teeth, which made your hair pull back especially hard, forcing you to let go of his length from your mouth. You only laughed, and Ben only feigned annoyance.

And just a few moments after that, he's back to exhaling your name gutturally, stretching the "r" sound especially hard when he says you're his "good girl". And soon enough, Ben's grip on your curls tightens, and he's moving your head at an unsteady pace in pursuit of his pleasure alone. You suppress your gag reflexes, because to your great surprise, not only he likes it, but you as well. You were definitely a masochist.

His growls, guttural moans, and sloppy grunts mingled with your whimpers and the wet slapping of your face against his heated skin. How strange was it that you were ready to cum now without even touching your needy slit with your fingertips, just from the feel of his huge length in your mouth? It was probably very strange, but you didn't have that thought in your head, or any other, God, Ben had literally fucked the shit out of your brain, because all your sick mind was thinking about was his voice, his face, his hands, just fucking him. Thrust, thrust, another thrust--

He stops abruptly, apparently not wanting to end it like this. Soldier Boy lets go of your hair, pats your head approvingly (a rare sign of tenderness on his part!) and then takes up the locks again to lift your face off his still-hard cock, glistening in a mixture of pre-ejaculate and your saliva. He grins smugly, taking your chin with his finger. Judging by the fact that he's even allowed himself that smirk, some of his stress is already gone. But this is not enough.

"Get up, love. And sit on the table," he growls, lifting you off your lap as you almost hit your head on the edge of the table, and Ben lowers himself to you, pressing his lips dangerously close to yours in a scalding kiss. His lips taste gross, a mixture of expensive whiskey, weed, and smoke, but you grasp the taste with your whole life line. But before you can even open your mouth to his tongue, Ben soon pulls away, biting your bottom lip.

"I'm not going to end this with you so easily."

a/n: of course know this man is huge asshole and i hate him with all of my heart but your honor he's played by jensen ackles so he can be pardoned. idk what was the last time i written smut tbh

[babygirlwritessmut]

♡︎ part8. a complete silence rule

MINORS DNI!

・❥・pairing: vi (arcane) x fem!reader

・❥・ summary: you and Vi came to library for studying, but she can`t resist touching you

・❥・ genre: smut + kinda friends to lovers

・❥・ word count: 1.9k

✎ warnings: 18+, smut, dom!vi, oral sex, fingering, sex in public place

WHEN I NEEDED YOU masterlist

a week after Vi was discharged from the hospital, she returned to college. she wasn’t allowed to play yet, but she didn’t miss a single practice, even if it just meant warming up with the others and then sitting on the bench to watch. she recovered quickly, but if you hadn’t insisted, she would’ve tried to play on the first day back. the doctor had strictly forbidden it, and you made sure to keep an eye on her. though Vi was eager to return to her normal pace, full recovery required time, as the risks were still too high.

another bit of good news - Troy was no longer on the team or even at college. you saw him clearing out his locker as his parents and security escorted him away. when you asked your dad if he knew anything about it, he simply kissed your forehead and told you not to worry. either way, you didn’t mind; whatever your father had done, it had worked. truth be told, it even scared you a little, but Troy got what he deserved. naturally, all accusations were dropped, and your mom mentioned in confidence that your father had threatened Troy’s family, saying you’d press charges for assault and all the vile things their son had done. it was a relief to finally exhale; for a moment, it even felt like the air without your ex was lighter.

without Troy’s bullying, Josh finally left the team, free from the person who’d tormented him for years. he seemed to have started playing guitar in his garage. but the biggest surprise was that he’d found a partner. according to Trish, they met at the last match and hit it off, though homophobic Troy had always intimidated Josh, and for good reason. long story short, many people in his social circle felt better without him, and you were glad it was over.

after classes, you met Vi in the parking lot. she kissed you on the lips and wrapped her arms around your waist, letting her hands slide lower. smiling mid-kiss, she murmured, “maybe I should transfer to another school”

“and why’s that?” you teased, slipping your hands under her shirt, pushing her jacket aside, and pulling her closer, which made Vi bite your lip.

“I can’t focus on school or anything serious when you walk around looking so gorgeous and tempting,” she said, squeezing your hips and leaning you against the hood of her car.

“I can’t stand my loneliness, especially when you two are kissing so sweetly out here for all to see,” interrupted a voice. it was Trish, standing behind you with her arms crossed. “just a reminder, Vi, that I was the one who first told your new girlfriend how beautiful you are, so both of you owe me”

finally, you and Vi let go of each other and laughed. Vi took your hand and said, “and I’ll be forever grateful to you for it”

“ready to go?” you asked Trish, who was still grinning as she watched the two of you.

“I came to say I won’t be able to make it today. mom’s not feeling well, and I want to stay with her. do you mind if we reschedule for tomorrow?” Trish said, looking a little apologetic.

“of course, no problem at all. send her my best and wish her a speedy recovery. if she’d like, I can bring over some of my mom’s special soup; it’s really delicious,” you replied understandingly.

“that would be wonderful. thank you, I’ll text you about tomorrow” Trish gave you a quick hug goodbye before hurrying home.

“where were you two going, and what’s been rescheduled for tomorrow?” Vi asked, curious.

“the library. we have a history test coming up, and Trish and I often go there to focus. there’s a total silence rule, so we can’t gossip or listen to music. it sounds odd, but we get distracted so easily that the library’s our only hope,” you explained.

“want me to go with you?” she looked into your eyes. “unless this is some kind of special friend ritual?”

“no, no, nothing like that, but are you sure you want to sit quietly for an hour with a history book?” you raised an eyebrow at her.

“yes, especially since I have the test too. I’m not playing right now, so the coach won’t be able to get me extra credit for athletic involvement,” Vi said a little sadly, clearly missing her usual active lifestyle. but you weren’t giving in - the doctor’s orders were law, especially for Vi, and she deserved the best care.

“alright, then, let’s go,” you decided to steer the topic away from sports to take her mind off it.

“why an hour, though?” Vi asked, referring to what you had mentioned earlier.

“well, it’s not strict or anything, just a rule Trish and I came up with: an hour of uninterrupted studying, then any break or distraction we want. it’s like a little motivation,” you shrugged with a smile.

“if it’s the rule, then let’s follow it,” Vi said as she opened the passenger door for you and got behind the wheel.

ten minutes later, you arrived. there weren’t many people there, so you took your and Trish’s usual seats near the bookshelves. as you’d told Vi, there was complete silence, only occasionally broken by the sound of turning pages. Vi sat next to you, taking off her jacket and hanging it on the back of the chair. when she turned back, she caught you staring at her hands, biting your lip, which made her smile and raise an eyebrow. you felt a bit embarrassed, but it wasn’t surprising - you never focused on Trish this way, yet with Vi nearby, you realized it might be a little harder to concentrate.

you quickly looked away, pulling out a sheet with the test questions. each question had a list of recommended books to review. pointing out a few titles to Vi, you both set off to find them. the history section had plenty of books, so it took a little time to gather what you needed.

Vi leaned over to you and very quietly asked where she should find a particular book, you pointed to the bottom shelf, and she nodded. running your eyes over the stand with books, you saw that a little higher is hidden a book, the author of which is your teacher, usually it is occupied by someone, but today was a good day. when you reached for her, Vi looked up and was very pleased with what she saw. the length of your skirt gave a good view of your underwear, which made Vi feel incredible desire and attraction. she carefully stood up and slowly ran her hand down your leg from your ankle to your thigh until her fingers were under your skirt. you almost didn't let go of the book from your surprise, your eyes became round and goosebumps ran through your body, you wanted to say something, but Vi only put her index finger to her lips. she took the book and placed it on the shelf, leaving her other hand on your butt, glancing over at you, she smiled at you, desire burning in her eyes, you felt incredibly attracted to her, so you moved a little closer. her lips covered yours, you tasted her as her warm tongue slipped between yours, Vi pulled you closer to you, squeezing your butt tighter, her other hand ending up under your shirt, her thumb gently caressing your skin as her lips kissed you.

she pulled away from you and leaned into your ear, saying “the rule of complete silence, remember?”. her fingers ran up the fabric of your panties under your skirt and she ran her hand down touching you. she smirked when she felt how wet you were, running a finger over your clit you rested your head on her shoulder holding back a moan. every movement seems very slow and you wanted more, you could feel the vibrations going through your body when her finger started stimulating your clit more actively, you held on to her with your hands so you wouldn't fall. she covered you with her lips again and you felt her finger enter you, a wave of pleasure covered your body, you immediately started to move on it, kissing her more passionately, your hips moving and your body getting heavier. she wasn't about to stop, her finger digging into you harder and harder as you struggled to hold back a scream. only the rustle of the books reminded you where you were now, you almost didn't care, you could feel your wetness running on her finger, you were so wet and excited that you didn't care if they could hear you now, you wanted her touch, you wanted to cum from her fingers, you wanted to show her what pleasure she brings you. when her second finger was inside you tightened your grip on her, and Vi sped up as much as possible, your legs were just shaking at this point. Vi's other hand pulled your bra down and squeezed your breasts, you threw your head back and surrendered to the feeling, you came so hard it made your head spin. holding you, she pulled her hand out of your panties and pressed you against the bookshelf, kissing you again. her lips moved to your neck and trailed down.

“what are you doing?” you said almost inaudibly in surprise.

Vi just looked up at you and answered “you said we had an hour”

goosebumps ran down your spine and she returned to your neck again, kneeling, Vi placed your leg over her shoulder and lifted your skirt, putting her index finger to her lips again to keep you quiet.

her fingers gently pulled your panties to the side, and she ran her tongue over your pussy, collecting a mess you had done earlier. your body was so heavy that you grabbed the shelf with one hand to keep from falling. her lips pressed against your wetness, she didn't tease like before, her tongue was immediately inside you, you opened your mouth again in a silent moan and ran a hand into her hair. Vi's hands wrapped around your ass, and she ate you out greedily as you held back a moan. she was sucking your clit and running her tongue which was giving you incredible pleasure, you were moving your hips to ride her face as she explored your most intimate place. the second orgasm didn't take long, you came from her tongue even faster than from her fingers. you didn't have any strength left, but how nice it was. she put your panties back in place and climbed on top of you.

“I see you liked it,” she said teasingly. you just bit your lip and nodded, straightening your skirt.

“maybe next time I can sit on your face properly” you winked at Vi and ran your finger over her lips which were still wet from you.

“no reason to wait, you can still stand so…” Vi smiled and took your things and led you by the hand out of the library to the questioning looks of the others.

[maximoffsgirl]

Bad Idea, Right?

summary: You haven't heard from her in a couple months, but one single phone call and you simply tripped and fell into her bed. You don't dare to tell anyone in who's sheets you are, but it was casual; can't two people reconnect? That might have been the biggest lie you've ever said.

warnings:  Dom!Wanda, Top!Wanda, Sub!Reader, Bottom!Reader, D/s dynamics, Wanda is older than R (No specific age is mentioned), Wanda is referred to be taller than R (no specific height), ex-lovers, second chance romance, nipple stimulation, hickies, fingering (R receiving), Objectification (R is called a 'fucktoy' once) , light choking, praise, degradation , please let me know if there's more

MEN AND MINORS DNI

author's note: English isn't my first language ;D and this is my first time writing smut, so please bear with me on both topics

words count: 6.924

not proofread!

listen to:

“Just turn it already!” you heard Kate’s yell, the sound echoing from what you assumed was the kitchen. You were barely paying attention, your legs lazily tangled around a plush pillow, body slumped back into the deep, inviting cushions of the comfortable couch that the Bishop's residence offered. It was a trap for the perfect slumber, one that you had fallen into many times.

Kate’s apartment had yet to disappoint when it came to comfort, a space that had been indirectly chosen as the go-to ‘stop’ for your group. Perhaps it was because you couldn’t remember actually sleeping after the drinks had already made themselves at home in your system, or maybe it was because the late-night conversations stretched on until dawn, coaxing your eyelids to close without a second thought.

But today, you were fucked up. It wasn’t merely your body that ached; it was the weight of the entire week pressing down on you, squeezing out any remnants of peace you might’ve found. And suddenly, nothing was working. The headache lingered stubbornly, a relentless throb that kept itself known even after the vodka mixed with passion fruit that sat half-finished on the coffee table. Somewhere between the walls, Kate, Yelena, and Peter were pouring drinks down their throats, their usual antics harmless—most of the time—and comfortingly familiar. Usually, you would be the one shaking their heads after each shot, attempting to intensify the warm feeling of the alcohol coursing through their veins. But tonight, you simply weren’t in the mood to join in.

You heard the third buzz of your phone somewhere between your legs, the pillow, and the couch, the possible content doing nothing to spark your curiosity. Lazily, you searched for your mobile, freezing instantly as the content finally revealed itself.

Upcoming call from Maximoff.

Your drunken instincts kicked in before you could fully process the situation; you quickly answered the call and adjusted your posture on the couch, a nervous habit you still hadn’t managed to shake off even after months apart.

“Y/N.”

You first heard a sigh, followed by your name, and suddenly, it felt strange, as if it wasn’t truly yours until she said it. Her voice was sharp, direct, and certain, just as it always was when she wanted something. You had to restrain yourself from sighing in response to her tone. Wanda had a knack for ensuring her undertone was unmistakable, her intentions loud and clear even through the silence that accompanied her words.

“Y/N?”

She repeated, this time as a question. No undertone, no sigh—just a hint of confusion that you could almost picture settling into her face, accompanied by that adorable frown and slight tilt of her head. The thought of it sent a wave of panic coursing through you, prompting you to abruptly end the call. A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you tried to gather your thoughts. Suddenly, your mind was inundated with a flurry of notifications. You contemplated various responses: “Hey Wanda,” “Hi Wanda,”  “Sup,” mentally cursing yourself for the last one. You considered “What is it?”, “Are you okay?” ,“Fuck you.”, "Fuck me". But in the end, you settled for a simple “hi wanda,” knowing she hated whenever her name was written without capital letters.

You could feel your heartbeat on every inch of your body. Uncomfortably pulsing and almost burning as if to remind you of how much Wanda Maximoff still affected you - not that you needed one, her hold on you made itself known every night; when it was late enough to hear the breeze touching the tree leafs and you had your hand buried between your legs, your index finger drawing teasing circles on the wetness that you’ve found, and her name unconsciously escaping from your mouth. 

The exchanged messages had you sighing, your mind trapped into a haze that, even from afar, Wanda knew exactly how to get you in; rather it was on purpose or not. 

Throughout the months, your friends had been tortured by your thoughts. Your constant texts in the group chat, or never ending rants complaining about how much you missed your ex, had earned you a handful of complaints and curses enough to write a trilogy. They already knew by heart each and every protest you’d make about your past relationship. It was always about Wanda’s hugs, Wanda’s kiss, Wanda’s cooking, Wanda’s voice, Wanda’s hands, Wanda’s couch, Wanda’s - everything.. Kate wished out loud her desire to receive a nickel for every time she was obligated to hear that very same name, last name, and nickname come from your mouth.

The name, last name and nickname who was telling you to come over at that very moment. And yes, maybe you'd cursed every single member of her family over and over again, wished upon her future children an impossible ugliness —a thought you knew would never hold up, given that she looked like she’d been handpicked by God himself. But then again, by the time Wanda sended you a teasing picture, called you by a sweet pet name, and then topped it off with a simple, "I miss you" you did not have any power over your own being anymore.

Before you knew it, your phone was slipped into your small black purse, and you were making your way toward the inebriated group of friends. Kate, noticing the purse strap on your bare shoulder, looked at you with a drunk pout. “Where are you going?” she asked, her words slurring slightly as she grabbed your wrist.

“I’ve got a terrible migraine… thought I’d go home to rest a bit,” you replied, giving the girl a shy smile, trying your best to hide the real intentions behind that decision. Kate and the others launched into a half-hearted effort to convince you to stay, almost begging for you to spend a little more time with them and sleep at the Bishop’s residence. But their words barely registered. All you could hear was the soft echo of Wanda’s text—“make it 20” - you'd rather ignore the first part of the message for the sake of your underwear —burning insistently in your mind. With a quick kiss on each of their cheeks, you ducked out of their grasp and slipped out of the building, your steps quickening with each floor you passed.

You slid into the driver’s seat, pausing for a moment to consider what you were doing. Were you really wrecking all your plans with your best friends for that woman? yes. Was it honestly worth it to see Wanda after all these months apart? yes. Was it worth the actual migraine you’d probably end up with, giving in to something you already knew would end the same way? yes

Without reaching any real conclusions, your fingers moved on their own, starting the car's engine in one familiar motion. Wanda’s address blinked on the display—an unknown location, yet somehow instinctive. You didn’t think twice before following it, your heart pounding as you watched the traffic lights change colors.

You look at the building through your window. A what seemed to be a quiet place, with no more than four floors and a few balconies with flowers. You took a deep breath next, sending Wanda a text while waiting inside the comfort of your car.

With each step you took, your breathing grew heavier, almost labored, as if the weight of anticipation was the only thing your body could process. The strap of your bag, though light, now felt like it was searing into your skin, a reminder of what was waiting, or rather who was waiting for you. Your calves ached with each stride, an all-too-familiar burn that reminded you of the countless times Wanda had called you in the middle of the night, her voice always assertive with a sweet, demanding, urgent, undertone. Every nerve seemed attuned to the memory of those late-night rendezvous, your body tense with the knowledge of what lay ahead, and yet unable—unwilling—to stop.

And with a single turn, there she was. Her hair, now a rich, dark brunette - a contrast to the auburn color you’d always known - complimented her features like any other could, although, if you could be honest, you’d say that to any color on the rainbow’s entirety as long as it was on her. Her smirk, almost boor, sends shivers down your spine, reminding you of what you were getting yourself into with that simple look.

She stood there, her back casually pressed against the doorpost and body contoured by a single lay of fabric, a simple lace nightgown colored in a deep crimson tone, a piece of fabric that you had never seen before. It hugged all the curves of her body, leaving just enough to imagination but more than you could possibly handle right now. The image made a possessive, jealous, nature want to come out of your being. Although you did make yourself overcome the overwhelming urge to pull her into the room, out of any sight that was not your own; begrudge still lingered inside you, caused by her initiative of standing on the door like that, where anyone could see her wearing something so informal, so inviting.

Before you knew it, you found yourself standing in front of her, your eyes locked in a silent exchange for a few seconds that felt like an eternity. The air was thick with mutual tension, an unspoken energy crackling between you. In a swift motion, Wanda reached out and grasped the strap of your bag that clung to your shoulder, pulling you effortlessly into the apartment. The door clicked shut behind you, your body now pressed against the cold surface, an intense contrast to the hot kisses that were now displayed on your neck and collarbone. 

Wanda’s hands grabbed your purse, tossing it onto the familiar couch in the living room with a casual flick of her wrist. In an instant, her body was pressed against yours like second nature, a sense of urgency irradiating through both of your bodies. Her right hand now on your thigh, pushed you more against the door, her grip possessive as a growl left her lips at the outfit you chose.

“Why are you wearing pants?” She boldly complained. Saying it casually as if she had seen your face everyday for the past months. It was as if she hadn’t spent countless nights searching through her phone for memories of the two of you. If she were to count that, then she truly had seen your face every day, of every week, of every month you’ve been apart, but it’s not like she’d ever tell you that. So instead, Wanda pretended to act normal, a decision that made anger boil on your veins, but you opted on playing into her gaming, giving in to what she wanted. 

“It’s cold, I was at Kate’s” it was a simple explanation, but one that Wanda was all too familiar with, so she just nodded her head along with your words. Her hands now climbing the curves of your body and resting on your neck, fingers applying enough pressure so you know it’s there, but not enough to make you moan and beg. And she knows that. Wanda knows that if she applies a little more pressure on her fingers, you’ll be whining unwittingly, the sweet sound escaping your lips even before you could think of it. But she’d rather wait. Taking in your soft features, the ones that she was too tired of seeing just through the confines of her phone screen; never being able to touch, just remembering like some kind of torture.

With a single finger, she tilted your jaw up to meet her eyes. A frown grew on your face once she just stared at you, you wondered what thoughts were swirling behind that penetrating stare; hoping it was the same as yours. No movement was made aside from the gentle caress of her thumb on your chin, tender like a feather but as vital as her stare. She moved impossibly closer and you envelope her waist in your arms in a familiar and intuitive action, hands moving below the delicate fabric of her nightgown, gently moving to the curve of her bum to caress her back tenderly.

Her thumb then moved to your bottom lip, tugging it down gently before pinching your chin, a teasing movement that made you smile, just like it always did. Likewise, a smile took control of her features before she gently bent down, meeting your already parted lips with hers. 

Unlike you had thought, she kissed you slowly, tenderly, taking her time with your mouth as gently as she could, sliding her tongue through both of your lips, meeting yours with a small hum. Her breath mingled with yours, warm and inviting, filling you with a sense of belonging that had been missing for far too long. God, you've missed Wanda’s kiss

You tried to pull away, waiting to see her face, but she instantly pulled you back, murmuring a soft murmur of denial “Uh Uhm”. You had no recall if you spended the last seconds, minutes or hours kissing her like this, the next thing you noticed was the kiss turning even more heated with each passing seconds. Her lust showing not only on her lips but also in her hands, those that traveled relentlessly every inch of your body she could access.

Wanda tapped your thigh three times, quietly telling you to grab your legs around her. Which you gladly did, your arms now circling her shoulder the same way your legs tangled themselves around her midsection. She never once stopped kissing you, making her way through the unknown apartment to what you assumed - and not so secretly hoped - was her room.

Your assumption made itself true when she threw you in a soft bed, her hands quickly working to take off the pants she had complained about earlier, tossing them somewhere with a teasing smile. Her hands now turned to roughly grip your thighs, moving her body and fingers up towards you so that your back pressed against the headboard. 

“Don’t ruin it” you murmured once Wanda’s hands settled on your collarbone, your shirt trapped in her palm as she held onto it until her knuckles turned white. You heard a huff pass through her natural red lips - a consequence of the immeasurable time you spent kissing her - as she took your shirt off gently, an intense contrast to her idea of just ripping it up. 

Along with your bra, the rest of your clothes receive the same unknown destination of your pants with a casual toss. You pouted at her, hands on her waist to pull her closer in urgency, now hating the piece of fabric that made shivers run down your body when you first saw it, taking it only as an annoying, irritating, barrier between both of your heated bodies.

“Don’t be a brat, Y/N” Wanda murmured, a low familiar tone which made you whine, recognizing what that meant even after the time apart. Your answer came with a quick shake of head, a defiance in your glare as to show you weren’t agreeing with her on that; at least not after the torturous months where you had only your fingers and an old vibrator hidden in the last drawer of your bedside table.

She sighed, galled at your reaction. To prove you wrong, her hands quickly parted your legs, pressing her knee against your center. In mock, she imitated your reaction, her lips parting open together with yours, a smirk on her face as she looked at you in amusement. Asking, without words, how long would you keep up the act she already knew all the words too.

"You have no idea how much I've missed you. Be a good girl, hm?" even if Wanda was asking, you knew better than to take that by anything other than a demand. So you weakly nod. Deciding on not fooling her, or you, anymore.

"Are you drunk?" she tenderly asks, her right hand angled perfectly on your breast as you felt the other pinning you down on the bed. You shook your head, the medium dose at Kate's house not being enough to inebriate you. Of alcohol? no. Of her? That's entirely different.

"Are you?" you asked, remembering vaguely of the bottle of liquor sitting lonely at her center table you've had a glimpse while she dragged you to the room. Wanda denied with her hand, pinching your already erect nipple. A moan emitted from deep inside you as she roughly played with the already sore protruding part.

"Always so sensitive" She murmured, bent down to whisper in your ear, placing a soft kiss on the side of your face. "Did you miss me too, Y/N?"

How could I not?  The thought echoed in your mind, undeniable. But feeding her ego wasn't something you were looking for right now, her smirk already wide enough as it was. 

She chuckled dryly, biting on your earlobe "Ah, ah... you know how this works, baby. Answer me" Wanda replied to your weak nod. Her hand on your waist now moving dangerously down, squeezing your inner thigh.

"Yes. Yes, Wanda. I've missed you too" came your response, as weak as your nod. The woman smiled, revelling on that pleasurable look on your face. Her hands playing with the waistband of your already drenched underwear. A whine escaped from your lips once she perfectly placed her thumb on your clit through the wet spot of the fabric, a hot tongue now circling your nipples, making you arch your hips towards her.

You were all too familiar with Wanda's teasing. The way her light fingers would run through every single corner of your body, never applying pressure on where you want, but enough to send shivers down your body. She took her time, wondering how long it would take until you were completely, broken, desperate. If you were familiar with her teasing, Wanda was familiar with your body, she knew every knot that made your eyes roll and legs twitch; she knew every word that would make your clit pulse just beneath her fingers.

“Still think this was a bad idea, Y/N?” she asked boldly, her voice low, taunting, with that teasing smirk that made you want to both kiss and slap her all at once. Not indulging her needs you nodded your head, your lips sealed, hiding the moan your body craved to let out. 

Wanda chuckled, moving your panties to the side as her index finger ran across your folds. She smiles at the sharky breath you let out, always loving to prove you wrong. “Hm… is that so, baby? Then why is this pussy dripping wet for me?” Before you knew it, her finger was inside the confines of your mouth, making you suck your own arousal off of it. “Are you going to deny that as well?”

You knew Wanda well enough to know that she didn’t expect an answer, at least not with your tongue circling her finger. Her other hand quickly worked to rip your underwear; her finger, now wet from your mouth, circling your neck, applying the pressure you were searching for since she dragged you into the apartment. She wanted to hear your complaint about the destroyed fabric, one that came as soon as you heard the noise. The first one of your underwear being ripped and the second one caused by the pop of her finger once she forced your sucking to come to a stop. “Wanda!” 

“If you’re going to complain I might have to stuff this pretty mouth with something other than my fingers” She challenged, as if you didn’t know this was exactly what she was looking for. “Is that what you want, Y/N?”

Wanda’s questions were all rhetoric, her teasing way of nudging you into that soft, hazy headspace she adored seeing you in. And, of course, you knew that, but you let her lead you there anyway. Revelling in the feeling just as much as she did. You felt the urge to respond, even if she wasn’t technically waiting for an answer. So you shook your head with conviction, your resolve melting under her gaze.

Wanda chuckled, spreading your legs as her fingers settled between them, one hand running through your folds, collecting the wetness at your entrance; and the other slowly circling your bundle of nerves, pinching it occasionally just so she could see you jump. You had no recall of the time she spent toying with your body, but her lips had a smile into it as her gaze burned on your pink folds, your wetness now on your inner thighs, almost reaching her white bed sheets.

“Wanda” You called her, your voice a bare whisper as you whined, back arching towards her along with your waist that tried to reach her fingers to somewhere else other than your clit. Her bedsheets clinged into your body, getting messier with each movement, mimicking your hair. 

“Yes? What do you need, pretty girl?” Her words made you whine softly, your hands clutching at her nightgown with urgency. You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment, feeling the warmth of her presence before looking up at her with a pout, the need in your gaze unmistakable. Wanda smiled, bent down to whisper against your lips, her free hand tightening her grip around your neck. “Whiny, whiny girl… if I hadn’t missed you so much I would make you beg right now. Not tonight though”

At the relieved look on your face Wanda raised her eyebrow, her features unable to hide the amusement expression on her face. “Well, I won’t make you beg… but you’ve already forgotten your manners?”

“Please, Wanda… Please..please”

“Good girl”

You honestly couldn’t recall if you moaned due to her words or the two fingers finding their way inside your drenched cunt. But either way, your waist was moving desperately against her fingers as she curled them inside of you, finding that oh so sweet spot within seconds. She played with  your clit with her free hand, not so gently toying with the already simulated bundle of nerves. Green orbs gently searched for all of your reactions, not daring to miss a single thing about your features, she has missed you enough to deprive herself from that by now.

“How many times did you touch yourself thinking about me, love?" 

A lot, and you both knew that. You couldn’t point one single time where her eyes weren’t inside your head while your fingers were inside your pussy. You’ve tried to mimic her movements; tried to picture the words she used to tell you. And, if you were honest, you only had an orgasm on your own because at least three of your thoughts were about her. Nothing was more arousing than Wanda Maximoff. Although none of this escaped the confines of your head, it didn’t take a mind reader to know the reason behind your crimson cheeks and incessant whines.

“Poor baby… you’re so needy without me” - Her voice was sweet, sweet enough to be degrative as she looked at you. Eyebrows almost touching and lips pouting. A perfect look of faux sympathy. 

By the time Wanda increased her speed, you were already a mess. Legs twitching, eyes rolling back, back arching forward and arms searching for her. Wanda thought she would cum just from the sight, your pretty body so vulnerable, looking for her in despair, practically begging for anything she could think of giving you.

“You’re so wet… I can feel you squeezing my fingers, my love. Tell me, did you miss being my little slut?”

You’ve missed Wanda’s voice. Was the first thing you thought when the words met your ears. The second was a moan. A loud, desperate moan at her words. Unfortunately for you, moans weren’t enough for Wanda’s hunger now. So when no reply came from you abused pink lips, Wanda made sure that other parts of your body were pink too. You swear you could cum right there once her palm roughly met your ass, and then your clitoris, and then your ass again. It’s not like you hadn’t been degraded, or praised, or spanked in this span of months. But how you’ve missed Wanda’s hands. After all, no one does it like a Maximoff. 

“Yes! Yes, Wanda, Yes! I’ve missed being your little slut. Please” You begged - cried. Words falling off your mouth like dominoes.

People say that to be loved is to be heard, and Wanda absolutely loved hearing you. The soft pleas and breathy whispers slipping from your lips as she decided what to do with you were music to her ears, each sound a reminder of the hold she still had over you, the confidence you’ve had in her. Others may say that to be loved is to be seen, which she couldn’t agree more, remembering the soft mornings were your legs were tangled around hers, your stable breath against her neck as she watched you sleep peacefully, insistent locks of hair blocking her view from your whole face as she let out a huff and gently pushed them aside, trying to savor every detail of those quiet moments, even through her memories. 

Whether love meant to be seen or heard, Wanda knew she would give every single sensation and feeling to you. She would See, Hear, Smell, Taste and especially Touch you for all her life. The intensity of her devotion now was almost laughable compared to her actions months ago. But she’d give every part of herself to you, even if that was one of the parts of her that she always kept hidden, specially from you.

As she looked at you, she noticed your breathing becoming more labored, a series of soft whines escaping your lips. Your hips moved instinctively, seeking out her fingers. The ones that were already pounding inside of you fast and rough. 

“Oh. You’re gonna cum? I know baby.. I know” 

Wanda cooed, bending down so that her lips were almost touching yours. As you tried to kiss her, you felt the air being blocked from your throat as her hand found home there once again. Her voice sweetly founding your ears as she displayed marks just below your earlobe.

“Cum for me, Y/N. Show how much you’ve missed being my fucktoy”

If your trembling legs weren’t enough a sign to show her that your orgasm was close, the sound coming from your lips mostly certainly got the job done. The feeling of her fingers trapped inside your stimulated walls and her sweet words on your eyes made you see stars even before you came undone beneath her.

“Oh.. Good girl. Uhum… just like that, honey”

Fortunately, or not, Wanda wouldn’t be stopping until your sixth orgasm under her tongue. Making you so overstimulated that just the bare feeling of her knee against your pussy had tears falling down on the side of your face. 

Whether it was the exhaustion of your overworked body or the steady rhythm of Wanda’s heartbeat beneath your head, you couldn’t tell. But you’d never felt such peace in your life. The warmth of her body against yours and your legs so perfectly tangled together made you wonder how you’d ever managed to sleep without this.

When the rays of sun managed to overcome the dense curtain in the room, enlightening everything it reached, Wanda was already awake. Her fingers light, as to not wake you up, tracing your features softly. Wanting to crave in her mind how your cheeks felt so soft beneath her fingertips, how you hummed in your sleep and unconsciously searched for her waist, pressing your bodies even closer. 

Wanda let out a soft, annoyed sigh as stray locks of your hair slipped across your face, obscuring her view. Carefully, she brushed them back behind your ear, her fingertips lingering just a moment longer than necessary. She gazed at you with a tenderness so raw that, had you been awake to see it, you might have buried your face against her collarbone, overcome with emotion.

Reluctantly, Wanda forced herself to slip out of the bed, carefully breaking free of your intense grip, prying your arms from around her with care. She paused for a moment, looking down at you, and then carefully pulled the covers up to shield your goose-pimpled skin. Satisfied that you were tucked in, she quietly made her way to the bathroom, the soft sound of her steps barely breaking the silence.

Maybe it was the soft hum of the shower, the sunlight streaming directly onto your face, or the subtle emptiness beside you that stirred you awake. Your eyes fluttered open, landing on the closed bathroom door. You sighed, small whines of complaint slipping out as you forced your sore body, scanning the room for something to wear as your own clothes were in some corner still to be found. Without a second thought, you padded over to Wanda’s closet, grabbing a pair of her cozy gray sweatpants. You slipped them on, feeling an instant relief as they shielded your bare legs from the chilly morning air—a warmth that, until now, had only been Wanda’s. Her hoodie was quickly on your body as you stretched yourself. 

Blindly making your way to the living room, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings; a cozy apartment when compared to the fancy uptown building Wanda used to call home back in your days together. our eyes quickly found your purse, discarded in the corner of the couch. You reached for it, quickly pulling out our phone that, to your surprise, still had battery, the screen lighting up with a soft glow.

Upcoming call from ‘Alcohoes’

You playfully rolled your eyes, You threw yourself onto the couch, the cushions welcoming your tired body - how you’ve missed Wanda’s couch - as you accepted the call from your friend group. 

“Do you guys really have to friend-group call me?” You complained as soon as you got the call. 

Wanda stepped out of the shower, her body now relaxed and enlaced around another nightgown. She frowned once she noticed you were nowhere inside her room, But her answer quickly came as she heard your voice coming from the living room.

Wanda stepped out of the shower, steam still lingering in the air as she wrapped herself in a fresh nightgown, the fabric clinging to her skin. She frowned when she noticed you weren’t in the room, unsuccessfully searching the room for any sight of you that were not your clothes discharged near her bedside table. A quiet frustration bubbled up inside her, but it didn’t take long for her to get an answer. Your voice floated in from the living room, carrying faintly through the apartment, a sound that instantly pulled her attention away from the emptiness of her room.

She arrived just in time to catch the tail end of your conversation, a faint smirk tugging at her lips as she watched you say your goodbyes. Without a word, she approached quietly, her steps soft against the floor. The moment you ended the call, her body settled over yours, her warmth pressing you into the couch, her weight a familiar comfort. Wanda's smile grew as she leaned in, her face inches from yours as her body pressed you against the couch. 

“So you’re lying to your friends now?” - She teased, kissing you jawline before taking your phone from you, tossing it as carefully as she could on the other side of the couch. 

“I’m not lying. I told them I was asleep. It’s the truth” you murmured back, a smirk on your face as you caress her skin with the tip of your fingers. Wanda thought for a moment, her index finger running up and down your jawline before she whispered “But you never said where” 

“Do you want me to tell my friends whose sheets I’m in, Wanda? Are you going to tell yours?” You challenged, eyebrows rising as you features that Wanda had adored for hours showed an amusement expression. 

“Touché, pretty girl. Let’s fetch you some breakfast. Shall we?” She grinned playfully, slipping her hand into yours and giving it a gentle tug, leading you toward the kitchen, her fingers laced with yours felt sending a pleasant warmth up your arm as she moved with purpose. 

As Wanda moved through the kitchen, rummaging through cabinets and gathering ingredients, you hopped up onto the countertop, letting your legs swing back and forth as you watched her. She was only a few steps away, her expression so focused and casual, that made your heart ache. The sight of her like this felt so intimate that it hurted. Even now, with her close enough to reach out and touch, you couldn’t shake the longing that clung to you, a reminder of the distance you'd crossed to be here.

Wanda chuckled softly when she spotted you perched on the countertop, a glint of amusement in her eyes as she approached, sliding effortlessly between your legs. Her hands found their way to your waist, grounding you as she looked up with a teasing smile.

“You know,” she murmured, her gaze flicking over to a nearby stool, “there’s a perfectly good seat right there.”

“Oh.. really? I didn’t realize” you smirk, faking surprised as you turned her head to where her gaze landed. “Brat,” Wanda murmured under her breath, a smirk ghosting on her lips as she took in the sight of you in her clothes—oversized and somehow fitting you perfectly at the same time. Her gaze lingered, softening as it traced over every familiar curve hidden under her sweater and sweats. She looked up, eyes meeting yours with that familiar glint.

“I’ll deal with you later,” she promised softly, squeezing your thighs over the gray sweatpants before turning back to the stove to begin making the pancakes. It was strange—how the months of silence between you hadn’t been addressed, how you were now sitting on her counter as if nothing had changed, nothing had been broken. The soft sounds of her moving around the kitchen, the rhythmic tapping of the spatula, the gentle hum of her presence, made everything else feel distant. You wanted to fight, to yell, to ask her why the hell it had taken so long to get here, but the way she moved, so calm and unbothered, made every word die in your throat. 

Breakfast didn’t take long to prepare. The scent of pancakes filled the air, a comfort you didn’t realize you missed. Before you knew it, Wanda was placing a plate in front of the stool behind you, the warm food topped with fresh strawberries and bananas. She sets both the chocolate and honey syrups next to the plates. Silently inviting you to sit on the stool instead. 

You did as she asked, hopping off the counter with a playful huff and making your way to the stool beside her. The moment you sat down, though, a frown tugged at your lips when you realized she wasn’t sitting right next to you. Instead, she moved to the counter to grab the fresh orange juice, her back to you as she opened one of the drawers near the sink. It was a small, almost insignificant action, but it hit you harder than you expected. The sight of her grabbing the strainer made something heavy settle in your chest.

You knew she remembered. You knew she knew how much you hated the foamy texture of freshly squeezed juice. She’d always done this for you—even if she complained, and teased and called you a child, - She’s always strained it every morning, without fail, just to make sure you didn’t have to deal with the foam. And now, seeing her do it again, it was almost too much. The ache in your chest flared, and for a moment, you felt that familiar, painful sense of longing. It was like nothing had changed, even though everything had.

With the juice in front of you and Wanda standing by your side, you murmured a soft "Thank you," your voice barely above a whisper. You took a bite of the pancakes, the sweetness of the strawberries and bananas mixing perfectly with the warm, fluffy texture of the pancakes. You savored every bite, the familiar taste pulling at something deep inside you. You’ve missed Wanda’s cooking. 

“Is it good?” She asked, looking at you with her face resting on her hand.

“It’s wonderful, Wands” You praised, the nickname making Wanda’s breath get lost in her throat as she had to pull herself together. “No one does it like a Maximoff”

“What?” she chuckled as she asked, her tone light but with an undercurrent of curiosity, her eyebrows slightly raised.

“It’s nothing.. It’s just a joke Kate and I used to say after she hooked up with Pietro”

This time, Wanda truly laughed, a genuine, unexpected sound that filled the air. The answer was nothing she had expected. She looks at you with a smile, her eyes wide, shocked yet amused to hear something like that.

“I honestly don’t think I want to hear how that happened”

A silence rested in the room for a moment. It wasn't comfortable, yet it wasn’t completely awkward either—just an unspoken understanding hanging in the air. The soft clink of utensils against plates was the only sound, punctuated by the occasional sip of juice. Both of you ate the rest of the pancakes, chewing slowly, as if the quiet was part of the meal itself. The light from the window cast a gentle glow across the table, making the moment feel oddly serene, even if the silence remained a little too thick.

You got up from your seat, gathering both plates in your hands, and headed to the sink to wash them, returning the favor since she'd cooked the meal. The warm water ran over your hands as you scrubbed, but you suddenly felt your body tense when Wanda’s arms slipped gently around your midsection from behind. Her chin found a comfortable resting spot on your shoulder, her presence soft and grounding - You’ve missed Wanda’s hugs. Then, you felt the warmth of her lips as she placed a tender kiss on your neck, just where the edge of your hoodie left a small patch of skin exposed. It was a small, quiet moment, but it lingered, filling the air with something that felt unspoken yet deeply understood.

“I want to see you again” She murmured against your skin. biting on it gently as to indulge you in agreeing. 

“Wanda..” You warned, you face barely over a whisper as you sigh, your head falling to the side as you continue to wash a mug. Not really paying attention but refusing to fully give in to the woman. 

“I know.. I know” She sighs, tightening her grip. “But can’t two people reconnect?”

You closed your eyes tightly, feeling the weight of her words settle over you, each one resonating with an intensity that left you almost breathless. A heavy sigh escaped you, your chest rising and falling as you tried to steady yourself, but the impact was undeniable. You couldn’t bring yourself to respond, feeling the weight of silence say more than words could in that moment.

“It can be casual” she tried once again. Even if the phrase went against her beliefs, she'd do anything to make you agree, nothing mattered more in that moment than reaching you, convincing you. 

“Liar” It was all you managed to say. 

But you were right, and both of you knew it. The truth hung between you, undeniable and clear. You and Wanda were too intense to be just casual—there was too much fire, too much depth simmering beneath the surface. Every glance, every touch felt charged, as if holding back a force neither of you could ignore. There was no pretending, no easy way to make it something light. What you shared demanded more, something deeper, something that couldn’t be confined to the surface.

“Yeah. You’re right. I don’t want nothing casual when it comes to you”

You lazily dried your hands with the dishcloth she kept by the sink, your movements slow and almost reluctant. Turning around, still wrapped in her arms, you looked up at her, a hint of defeat in your eyes. Her gaze met yours, and you felt the weight of everything unsaid pressing between you.

“This is a bad idea” You whispered as you felt her warm hands cupping your cheeks. Her thumb sweetly caresses the skin just like she had done it the other night. 

"No... It'll be a bad idea if I continue to live without having you here," she murmured, her voice vulnerable and sweet, like you'd never heard it before. The softness in her tone caught you off guard, as if every word was wrapped in a quiet honesty, the kind that made her seem more fragile than you’d ever imagined. Her eyes held yours with an intensity that spoke volumes, and for the first time, you saw a side of her that was completely unguarded, raw and full of longing.

So you nodded your head, a quiet agreement settling in your chest. The thought of not having her, of continuing on and only ever complaining about how you didn't have her, seemed almost unbearable now. 

Because just like your friends have heard countless times. You’ve missed Wanda’s hands, Wanda’s kisses, Wanda’s hugs, Wanda’s couch, Wanda’s cooking,. You missed Wanda in her entirety. You wanted to hear, to feel, to taste, to touch, to look at her everyday. 

And if this was a bad idea, you’d rather see the movie all over again, even if the ending ached too much. It was better than not having her at all. It was enough.

✄╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌

thanks for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it💌

[eluminium]

WILD LIFE IMPULSE MAKES ME SO WEIRDLY SAD GUYS ISTGGGGGG- MAYBE I'M JUST HIGH OFF OF MY OWN SUPPLY BUT MY GOD.

People treat him like he's somehow massively different from how he used to be, even some of his own allies. They think he's causing problems on purpose, they think he's intentionally being difficult and getting in the way of things. He's changed for the worse. But really, what HAS changed about Impulse in WL compared to earlier seasons? From what I've seen, it's only one thing.

He wants to win. He's made it known that he's aiming for that metaphorical crown. Outside of that one verbalized goal, Impulse has not changed in the slightest. He's still doing the things he's always done.

I mean, think about it. Is there anything Impulse has DONE (not said) that's especially mean, traitorish or troubling? The only thing I can think of is in this newest session (aka session 4) where he and Pearl do some minimal stealing from Joel and Gem, but this thievery is way after their reputations as troublemakers began! Really, the only thing you could argue before this is the cow situation in sessions 1-2, but come on. Accusing Gem and Joel of stealing their cows wasn't the biggest leap in the world, y'know? However, it is kind of unlike Impulse to lash out and accuse someone of something like that. He's usually pretty quiet about situations like this, instead choosing to stew in his frustrations and develop a grudge.

And I think that's what is making people uncomfortable in this season. Impulse speaking out. Impulse demanding things. Impulse making his wills and wants known. And it's something I find so tragic in all of this. People are uncomfortable and untrusting of Impulse because, for once in his god damn lives (many of them), he openly wants good things for himself. And they're not even unreasonable things! Of course, he wants to win, everybody wants to win! But because he never says what he wants normally, it's reminding people (especially allies) that he might have his own goals that could get in the way of their goals.

But, and this is probably the biggest tragedy of all, Impulse doesn't actually prioritize himself that much more than before. Yeah, he's louder than usual, but look at his actions. Anytime he's had to act on anything, he chooses to do more or less whats best for his team, instead of himself. He apologizes to Gem when instructed, he moves together with the rest of the 4Gs to the new base despite voicing how the old base was safer, he tries to clear the air with Ren despite the fact Ren killed him so they can have another ally against Grian (no gurantee the grudge won't come up again though, BUT FOR NOW).

And of course, he does what he always does. Works as hard as he can to make sure his team is as safe and armed as possible. I mean, he builds a creeper farm TWICE, he goes mining for diamonds and says out loud that he wants to get enough so ALL of them could have full diamond armour, he builds a chicken farm for them to have a reliable food source! He's still Impulse, doing what Impulse does best. Pearl even CALLS HIM OUT on this near the end of session 4, saying: "So Impulse, where's the chaos bone? Where is it? You've been too tame today, what's going on?". And Impulse rationalizes by pointing out he lost 3 lives last session and isn't willing to start something he can't finish and how he's "gearing up because this is the calm before the storm!"...and then instantly giving himself another grindy task to do next time in the form of going to the Nether to get resources.

Because he's just doing what he always does, falling back into the same team-pleasing behaviours. Because what he wants most isn't actually winning, despite what he tells himself. He wants someone to want him, to care about him. And the best way he knows how to make people care about him is to show how useful he can be to them. It also doubles as insurence, because if he cannot be wanted, the resources will make sure he will be needed. And if he cannot be needed...he'll let his team use him until there's nothing left of him, until there's no more purposes for him to have. Not because he wants that, in fact he'll usually say the opposite, but because it's the only thing he knows. Work, work, work and keep going because if he just puts in enough honest effort he can get anything he wants, right?

And this loops back to people being overly suspicious of him this season. Because people-pleasing, resource gathering, mild-mannered Impulse is the Impulse people are used too, and the Impulse that is the most useful to them. You can really see this almost subconcious mindset in the gossiping between Scott and Gem in session 4. They talk about how Impulse has a weird tone of voice this season, how he's causing problems, and how they miss the "kind and trustworthy" Impulse from Secret Life. But he's not that different, and he hasn't actually done anything major. Except for expressing his wants more than usual, especially his want to win. But that's already enough of a change in his behaviour to be a problem. Scott and Gem are longing for the Impulse who's an extremely useful and dedicated asset who will grind his ass off for the good of his team without anyone even asking, making sure they got everything they need to survive, but at the same time he doesn't get in the way. He doesn't cause any sort of problems, justified or not, and he doesn't have any wants of his own that could clash with their wants. This "new" Impulse who expresses his goals openly is a possible threat they have to account for, even if he's still mostly the same old reliable Impulse.

And in a depressing way, this makes sense, doesn't it? Imagine, in this death game of betrayal and opprotunism and paranoia, you have a person who gladly gets you everything you needed. Armour, weapons, potions, food, tools, farms, everything! Without even having to be pushed at all! In fact, he's all the more happy to get you something if you ask! And he barely asks for anything in return in comparison. You can more or less pay him in a job well done, and he'll be satisfied. He's easy to mold, easy to incorprate into your goals and wants. Isn't that so nice? So reliable? You have 99 problems but at least this isn't one! Now you have something safe to cling onto in all this chaos.

...Now imagine if that ally suddenly started talking about what HE wants. He starts making demands, standing up for himself, and letting his anger come out. No matter how small these moments are, it's gonna throw you for a loop! Why would he act like this when he never has before? Why would he suddenly start having goals that aren't yours? Why is he confronting you about something you didn't even do instead of grumbling in a corner for a bit? Now he might be a problem, his goals could directly clash with yours. Actually, the fact he's doing this at all means he's up to something. I mean, the motivation has to come from somewhere! Now you hear it in his tone, in his speech patterns, in every moment he doesn't completely roll over for you, and even in the moments he does! He could be a threat now, and you don't like that. You miss the old version of your ally. He's broken now, he needs to be fixed. Keep working with him so he'll revert back to who he used to be, back to when he was quiet. Jokingly call it therapy while you're at it.

IT MAKES SENSE. AND IT SADDENS ME SO MUCH. ESPECIALLY WHEN IMPULSE ISN'T EVEN GAINING ANYTHING FROM THIS BECAUSE HE'S ACTUALLY NOT WORKING FOR HIMSELF AT ALL. HE'S BEEN LABELED A PROBLEM BECAUSE HIS PERSONAL GROWTH, HIM FINALLY TRYING TO PUT HIMSELF FIRST FOR ONCE, IS A THREAT TO HIS ENEMIES...AND HIS ALLIES.

Of course he isn't fully innocent in anything, nobody is, but it's just so sad how all of these factors, factors where no one really is in the wrong, work together to create a situation where Impulse has a reputation looming over his head that he can't even take advantage of. And it's in the season where he wants to win, too...WILD LIFE IMPULSE MY SPECIALIST LITTLE GUY....

[mrs-pianofandom-98]

Can I be good..?

Agatha has always had a tendency to push people away. To deny herself any good because she knows it never last. Even when her girls make it hard for her to try to push…(Currently going through a breakup so you can all suffer with me)

(..Agatha’s thoughts..)

It was a saturday morning agatha had prompted to sleep alone without any of her lovers that night. She just wanted a moment and they all understood knowing they all had those moments. But she hadn’t slept. She knew it was one of her bad nights. She had tossed and turned,got up to redo her lesson plans or to read her text. She knew if she just went to lilia she would make her some tea or to Rio she would hold Agatha till she fell asleep.

But everytime she found the longing or the want to go and see one of them she pulled herself back. She knew she had been closed off and snippy all day,she didn’t think she could go out there and apologize and ask for something..anything to make her head quiet. Because the Agatha Harkness didn’t apoligize when she was the one being annoyed! Annoyed by billy’s constent updates through his classes (she asked him to do) or Jennifers blubbering about her work (Agatha loved the way her eyes lit up when ranting). She was the one allowed to be annoyed!

She groaned as she set up in her bed feeling her head pounding as it was just as fed up as she was. She tried to wipe away the exhaustion as she went downstairs and smelt breakfast. They all were off today, a rare occurrence (Of course she had to have a bad day and ruin it). Lilia was in the kitchen swaying about with her pulled up still in her soft yellow nightgown humming to herself as she flipped the pancakes. Agatha had caught Alice sitting on the counter next to the stove in her white tank top and black sweats looking at Lilia with the same love struck look the investigator gave them all. (She had grown to love that look)

“Morning ags!” Alice said as she looked up at her girlfriend. Usually Agatha would give her a wink or a “good morning dear” but she just hummed as she poured herself a cup of coffee. (Trying to ignore the saddened look Alice had given her) As she looked up at Jennifer and Rio coming downstairs as they had both slept in Jen’s room last night. Jennifer kissed both Lilia and Alice a goodmorning as Rio went over to Agatha as she leaned in but Agatha blocked her by putting up her mug “Not right now you have morning breath.” Agatha said as she walked past Rio into the living room grabbing the paper.

Rio narrowed her eyes at the action “What’s got you so moody amor.” She asked slightly hurt with a hint of annoyance as they knew how agatha got when she was in a mood. Agatha hated (adored) how they knew her actions so well she was so used to being able to make anyone leave her alone.

“Nothing. And I don’t get moody please, that's for the teenager.” She scoffed at the comparison. “Then care to explain why we’ve gotten the backlash of whatever has gotten you into a bitchy mood.” Jennifer questioned as she took a sip of her tea. At this point Agatha noticed the stove was turned off and they all were looking at her.

“Is having a bad headache such a crime jen.” Agatha snipped harsher than she intended. Jennifeir eyes narrowed as she looked at agatha. “It is when you're taking it out on us again.” The way Jennifer said again made agatha tense as she recalled how many times she had done that before but she wasn’t going to admit it. Agatha quickly put up her walls of indifference as she rolled her eyes.

“Whatever do you mean dear,I’m fine.” Agatha knew how much Jennifer hated the condescending and false kind tone Agatha used. Jennifer had stood up from the table walking straight in front of Agatha. “Agatha Please,” she said,her voice softening recognizing agatha's defense. “Your not fine and you know it. You’ve been distant,snappy,and cold. You barley talk,rarely even look at us anymore. It’s like your avoiding us.”

Agatha felt a pain of guilt at Jennifer’s words. She knew it was true but didn’t want to acknowledge the fact she caused this subconsciously on purpose. Agatha looked away, ignoring the lump in her throat. “I’m so sorry I haven't been able to be the perfect partner like all of you jen.” Agatha said harshly as she stood up. Jennifer looked slightly hurt before her eyes narrowed “I said nothing about that Agatha. I didn’t compare you to us! I’m simply-”

Agatha cut her off with a glare and sarcastic smirk “You're simply comparing me to all of you! Simply telling me every way I'm not doing what all of you are right?” Agatha knew she was being unfair but this was how to get them to leave her alone. (Right..) “Agatha you need to calm down.” Lilia interrupted as she looked at the escalating argument. Agatha scoffed as she looked at them all “I’m so sorry I can’t play house everyday. My bad I can’t be the good woman you all claim me to be! Maybe finally you’ll fucking understand I don’t need your dame help! I just need you to leave me alone!” Agatha had repeated the phrases that had been haunting her head since she allowed herself to open to this relationship.

Agatha's eyes were glossy with unshed tears she hid behind with the scowl she was wearing. As she slammed the mug and the paper down and grabbed her coat and keys. “Where are you goi-”Alice tried to ask worriedly but all Agatha did was walk out slamming the door.

(Pt 2?)

[esoanem]

Regarding how we're able to do 2, there are a few different ways:

Sometimes the ancients tell us! We have grammatical texts that include phonetic descriptions. Granted the vocabulary used is often imprecise, or overly based on the Greek grammatical tradition, but it still gives us lots of useful information (this is the same way we know Greek used to have a pitch accent rather than a stress accent like it has today)

Similarly, the same way you get complaints or jokes about people pronouncing (or spelling) a word the "wrong" way

This leads into one of the other big ways: misspellings. For instance we have graffiti from Pompeii that replace Latin c with Greek kappa, a letter we know was always pronounced hard, even before i & e. We also do not have graffiti where Latin c is replaced with s. This suggests that the people of Pompeii did not pronounce the letter c the same as an s before e & i (like most modern Romance languages), but instead kept a hard k sound there

The structure of the alphabet also gives us some clues, although it is weaker evidence, as these sorts of quirks can stick around long after they cease to be accurate, and can even persist when the alphabet is borrowed into a new language. The fact we have words spelt with ci and words spelt with si, and which is which stays consistent for so long is suggestive of the fact they were pronounced differently (of course, this doesn't rule of ci being pronounced with a ch sound as in Italian, or a th sound like in some parts of Spain). Similarly, the fact that j & i are spelt with the same letter in Latin itself suggests that they were felt to be in some way similar sounds (the best candidate being that j was pronounced y) - likewise v & u (with v being pronounced w)

We also have evidence from poetry. In English, we're most familiar with poetic structure in terms of rhyme schemes, but in Latin it was mostly about rhythm. You have a metre which requires that syllables of certain "weight" fall in certain parts of the line. This allows us to determine things like vowel length, syllabification of consonant clusters between vowels, and that final -m was not actually a consonant, but instead marked nasalisation of the preceding vowel

We can also look at how words are borrowed between languages. We know that Ancient Greek gamma kappa chi were all stops for various reasons (chi and gamma later became fricatives) and that they were voiced, voiceless unaspirated, and voiceless aspirates respectively, and we also know that in borrowings into Greek from Latin, Latin c is consistently rendered with kappa regardless of the following vowel. This again supports c always being hard in Latin, as well as it lacking aspiration (this is often difficult for English speakers to hear, but it means it would have sounded more like a Spanish c than an English k)

These are all classic philological methods, and were well established in the 19th century. What began in the 19th century though was the comparative method of historical linguistics, as well as widespread appreciation of dialectology

The comparative method relies on looking at a variety of languages and carefully comparing their structures to deduce facts about their common ancestor, based on a few principles (one of the main ones being that sound change is, as a rule, regular i.e. that a given sound in the mother language will have the same outcome in the daughter language, when it occurs in the same environment)

This lets us do things like observe that Sardinian always inherited Latin c with a k sound, rather than ever with a soft sound. A change from a soft sound to a k sound is much less common cross-linguistically than a change from a k sound to an s sound, so on comparative grounds we should reconstruct Latin as always have a hard k sound for the letter c

Then, especially in the 20th century, we started getting extensive dialect data, drawn from many more dialects than was previously practical. This allows us to do more powerful comparison and be more sure of our reconstructions

There are still some open questions, but they're mostly over pretty minor phonetic details. Probably the only one that would affect the pronunciation in a way a layman would notice is whether Classical Latin had any difference in vowel quality between short and long vowels, or was it solely one of length (e.g. was i just like ī but shorter, or was it also pronounced more centrally in the same way the English vowels in KIT and FLEECE differ in quality as well as length)

How do we know/guess how Latin was pronounced?

I can't find the post where I talked about this before, but basically there are two ways.

1) Because Latin transitioned from a living language (in the Roman Empire) to the language of scholars and clerics (in the Middle Ages) without a gap, the pronunciation was passed down from teacher to student. It almost definitely shifted a bit over time though, due to human error and the lack of recording devices. This handed-down version is called Ecclesiastical Pronunciation.

2) In the early 20th century (iirc) scholars attempted to compensate for shifting pronunciation by reconstructing how Latin might have been pronounced in Ancient Rome. The version they came up with is called Classical Pronunciation.

There are valid reasons for choosing either pronunciation, and you'll meet latinists hotly in favour of each. 😜

[yanderefarm]

.......imagine combining potatoing and the limited amount of words idea, cocksleeves dont need to talk after all :)

that lends so well into my love of making potatos dumber. like going from fully articulated man to a soft little thing that squirms and whines instead of using his words.

this became a whole thing. so enjoy you filthy animals. /lh

cw;; nsft, dead dove, amputation, electrocution, torture, unsanitary

i like that with achilles especially because for him this is the ultimate fantasy the best scenario in his world. completely dependent on you because you chose to take away his autonomy. but he still talks like he's a respectful member of society and not like he's a glorified cock sleeve, its not acceptable.

he also gets to ease into it, starting him with a good amount of words and slowly lowering it. but it gets even lower than noemie did because he doesn't even need to say pleasantries. good morning, good night, hello, its unnecessary. he needs to say yes, please, im sorry, and thank you and that's it. if he tries to waste his words on stupid things like no or stop he's going to end up punished in two ways.

it's fun to show off to your followers the sight of him using up his words. it's just a normal stream, you're playing games and in your lap is your cute little toy. everyone knows your cock is currently buried in your human onahole but you're not bouncing him or even moving, just letting him sit on your lap. someone asks how many words he has left today and so you check. it looks like he's been conservative today and he has about 10 left. so it's time to waste those precious words of your dumb toy. you make him look at the chat and people can pay for him to say things, of course you don't want them to use up all ten in one go so it's limited. the fun of watching him slowly fuck himself over begins.

"how are you doing today, pet?"

he blinks his pretty eyes and swallows.

"uhmm good..?"

"are you having fun?"

"yes!"

"what are you doing right now?"

you give him a good thrust to remind him. he gasps and whimpers with saliva dripping out of his mouth.

"mm.. t-taking master's co-cock."

that's 5.

"do you love your master?"

"yes!!"

"are you happy to be a fuck toy?"

"yes!!"

"do you ever regret losing your limbs?"

he looks back at you as best he can with a pout.

"you can say no this time." you assure him.

"no! i don't!"

that's the other 5.

"how many words do you have left?"

he blinks in confusion like he doesn't know what game you've all been playing.

"10."

that was the very last word. so you press him against your desk and push your cock even deeper into him. everyone is watching you remind him, everyone can see him and they know he's a sex toy.

"tell them thank you."

he's struggling with your cock now slamming into him making his entire body shake.

"tell them thank you." you say more sternly directing his slutty face to the camera.

"th-thank-"

the word barely leaves his mouth and he screams as the electricity buzzes through his body. that also earns him a hard slap on the ass.

"are you an ungrateful bitch? you need to be a good boy and say thank you properly."

"th-thank yyyYOUUU-"

another slap to accompany the shocks.

"thank you for watching this useless cock sleeve."

"ca-caaant-"

he's crying now as you continue to punish him along with the painful shocks. your relentless pounding of his tight hole doesn't stop either it's an overwhelming mix of pain and pleasure.

you pull him all the way onto your cock and sit back in your chair.

"tell me you can't again. see what happens."

"sowwy"

his voice is hoarse as his entire body twitches and writhes with the pain.

"now say it."

"tha-thank y-" a scream. "you fffforr-" more sobbing. "waaaaaatchingggggahh-" his body slumped forward but you pulled him back. "th-thisssss u-" his head fell against your shoulder as his body arched away from the pain. "useless-" he was flailing to get away from it. "co-coooock sleeeeeeeeveee-"

you watched as the poor toy couldn't help but release his bladder all over his stubby thighs and your lap.

"oh no... i think achilles wants to be punished even more."

[puppetwoman17]

Let’s talk about what aging would do to Billy’s perception of how he’s acting toward other heroes when he’s taking care of them(yes this is dad Marvel I’m feeding yall today).

When Billy was younger, he just wanted to help. Of course, that doesn’t alter anyone’s perception of Cap as a dad figure, but Billy wasn’t actively trying to take care OF them. All he’s doing is trying to be a helping hand. Someone to listen to others when they just need a good vent.

In his perspective, all he’s doing is being a good friend. Not a mentor, or an older brother, or anything akin to that. Of course, that doesn’t make a difference for younger heroes(or, heroes who perceive themselves as younger than Cap). Or even for some of his League coworkers. Because all of that care is coming from someone who they don’t really know the age of.

He could be in his thirties, or he could be thousands of years old, or he could even be just eleven, manifesting out of pure magic, and with that wisdom.

It’s only as Billy grows older, I’m thinking somewhere between high school junior-college freshman, that he actively starts thinking of himself as that mentor figure. Or, he starts thinking of what he DOES to heroes as being a mentor/older brother figure.

And once he feels more comfortable leaning into that, that’s when he starts reciprocating the affection given to him. I’m talking him saying “I’m proud of you” with that fatherly tone. Him deciding to give hugs instead of others always having to ask(ofc he asks first, our boy cares about consent). And yes, him going as a substitute for parent teacher conferences.

For Billy, it’s always been about being a better parental figure than the many adults who let him down. It’s about learning the dos from his parents and the don’ts from Ebenezer.

Now all the “best dad/brother” mugs make so much sense. Raven following him sometimes. Clark asking for advice on how to handle Jon and rekindle things with Kon. Tbh he feels kind of stupid for not realizing how people thought of him sooner.

Of course, this only amplifies his refusal to reveal his identity. Sheesh, he was gonna introduce himself on Christmas, but what would they all think now?

It’s a complicated thought process of “They deserve to know if I have such an important place in their lives” and “but what if I lose all that respect and relationship?” and “but that would be selfish of me to want to keep that.”

The thought that they might still accept and love him never crosses his mind because no matter how self aware he gets, Billy will always be clueless when it comes to how people perceive him(aka yes, Billy, you are lovable—No, Billy, no one is using you for money, you don’t have that).

[starlightsuffered]

The Whimper of a King

Info - arranged marriage, medieval punishment, smut, needy Hal, making sure partner is satisfied, jealousy, oral (female receiving), soft Hal, wanting to be pregnant, squirting, not cleaning up after squirting, unprotected sex, dry humping, Hal obsessed with cunnilingus, wanting a baby

"He let a Man be killed under his watch, and didn't report it. Two days in the stocks is generous," I said fiercely to the wife of the famous Tavern owner. She was upset with my husband's ruling.

"But, he didn't-"

"You heard the Queen!" Hal roared. "Leave us immediately!"

"Your majesty, should we send in the next peasant?" Asked a knight.

"No, I must speak to my wife for a moment," he said, standing up stiffly and grabbing my hand.

"We are rather behind," said another one.

"Am I not king?" He demanded.

"Of course."

He pulled me along, and I knew what he wanted. He pushed me in a unused room right off the throne room.

"Take care of me," he whimpered as he kissed down my throat.

"Hal," I chuckled, I knew it'd been my display of power that had overtaken him.

"I can't help it," he whined, and I chuckled. I tentatively kissed his lips. He didn't let the kiss be simple. He held my face in his hands, pressing his crotch against me, and even through our thick layers I felt his hard on. His kiss was wild, his tongue making it wet and sloppy.

"You've already had me twice today my King, I have also serviced your cock with my mouth, you need more already? The sun is barely halfway across the sky," I giggled.

"Such a woman as you had never existed, of course I need you again. That display of power was gripping."

"Oh alright my love, who can deny a king?" I asked. He began to strip me immediately.

"I must have your seamstress make your dresses easier to remove," he growled. "I need instant and constant access to your body."

The words washed me in chills. He soon had me naked before him. I never felt more powerful than when he took in my bare form. He didn't even bother with his clothes before pushing me down on an ornate couch. I'd talked to his previous lovers, who were always jealous of me. Through this conversation I'd learned my king had been selfish once. He had never eaten them the way he had me. However, with me, he was addicted to mu juices. He had once requested for his birthday he be allowed to taste me for as long as he pleased. I'd come so many times I couldn't count, and he'd still gone on into the night. The next day his jaw had been swollen, and he could only have liquids, but he hadn't minded in the least.

"I must feast, the finest wine doesn't taste as delicious," he whimpered. He attached himself to my pussy, laving at my wet membranous walls. He sucked at my second pair of lips. I was arching into his talented mouth.

"My husband, you do this like no other," I sighed. He shot up.

"Others have had their mouths on your cunt?" He asked. He didn't judge me, he simply got jealous easily.

"I'm sorry, I swear, Oh!" I had tried to calm him but he'd grabbed handfuls of my ass and brought his mouth to my pussy hungrily. There was no stopping him as he ravaged me. I fell over the edge, my orgasm making me shake and moan, and yet he didn't stop.

"Hal, h Hal, fuck, your mouth and tongue. They're heaven sent, I'm going to come again," I praised him. He hummed inside me, his tongue darting and tracing. Soon I came again, and I felt myself release in a more powerful way than I ever had. When my eyes opened I saw that his face was covered in slick.

"Has any man," he growled as he ripped off his pants. "Even made you do that?"

"No man, no being, not even me," I swore as he entered me. I cherished that I was the only one who would ever hear the King whimper. Not even his enemies would hear this. Only I would hear the noise bred of pure unfiltered desperation.

"I'm not wiping my face, let my people see how my wife has deemed to bless me," he said, and a coil inside me tightened at the idea.

"King Hal, you own me, I am only yours, you need never fret," I promised.

"I need you, I need you, I need you," he chanted, eyes soft and adoring, and for my eyes only.

"You make me feel so good," I told him, unbuttoning his shirt. I desperately needed to touch the velvety softness of his pale torso. Soon his chest was bare. I lifted myself up to lick it.

"You are the only person who makes me weak," he confessed in a near whisper.

"I love that," I sighed.

"I do make you feel pleased don't I? Not just sexually? You are happily wed to me?" He asked. He always needed this reassurance, even more so because we'd been arranged, but the attraction had been instant.

"Of course, and Hal, I want a child please, soon?"

"Oh, yes my love!" He said excitedly, his hips picking up their pace. Genuine excitement graced his features. "I hope they look exactly like you, oh, I'm going to cum my love."

He was painting my insides white as I arched into him, scratching down his back as I too came undone. My walls squeezed him harshly.

"You did come didn't you?" He asked anxiously.

"Of course, I always do," I smiled at him.

"Let me know if you ever don't, that take precedent over many things," he said sternly.

I nodded and kissed him lazily. He didn't lie, he didn't wipe down his face. I knew the guards could smell the arousal, and I knew he didn't care.

[yiichan]

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 - 𝐈𝐦 𝐆𝐲𝐮𝐡𝐚𝐧

pairings. idol!ot13 x m!14thmember!oc. wc. 2.2k. genre. parellel universe au, extra member au, angst.

warnings. major character death, depictions of mental illnesses (depression, self-harming etc.), mention of self-harming, slight OOC.

writers notes. just a reupload from @peachesyeo.

mentioning my imperial beta reader, @sousydive

network: @mansaenetwork

[open] series taglist.

chapter index | navigation | main page | kofi | ao3

25 May, 2025

How would they feel if they found him dead?

Gyuhan stared blankly at the ever-bright ceiling of his bathroom. The rusty smell of blood mixed with the lemony air freshener filled his nose as he ignored the stinging pain from his slit wrist.

Happy. They would probably be happy. On the tenth year that they debuted, and on the tenth year Gyuhan has been the fourteenth member of Seventeen, he finally left this world that gave him nothing but empty hopes and broken promises. 

I’m sorry , he thought to no one in particular. To whoever that will discover my dead body.

And that night, the Seventeen lost their fourteenth member, the forgotten member, Im Gyuhan. 

02 February, 2015

When Gyuhan first entered the practice room, led by the manager, he was secretly intimidated by the thirteen boys running around the room. And when the fierce-looking teenager came up to them, Gyuhan couldn't help but take a step backwards. 

His first impression of Choi Seungcheol was as a lion. 

A fierce, roaring lion that frowned when the manager introduced him to them, as the newest member; A scrutinizing lion who scanned him up and down before exchanging greetings with him; A frustrated lion whose expression filled with annoyance once the manager left him alone in the room with them. 

Gyuhan didn't know that his appearance to the boys was a sign that they would debut later. With Minghao as the promised last addition to the group, they were expecting to debut soon. But Gyuhan's existence broke their dream. 

As Gyuhan stood alone with a frowning Seungcheol, a tall, long-haired teenager came forward. "My name is Yoon Jeonghan," he had said with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "What's yours?"

At this moment, Gyuhan thought everything would be okay, that the group would accept him. He quickly bowed, his hands piled nervously in front of him. "Hello! My name is Im Gyuhan, I'm born in May, 1996. Nice to meet you!" He said all of this very quickly, blushing as he met Jeonghan's eyes. Gyuhan had never met someone as pretty as Jeonghan before, and he would never imagine that Jeonghan would be one of the people who hurt him the most. 

"Ah, Gyuhan-ssi." The angelic man's lips curled. "Nice to meet you, too."

24 May, 2023

"Here you go, Gyuhan-ssi. Remember to not say anything weird while you are on live."

"Of course not. Thank you." Gyuhan thanked the staff as she left, with the camera placed on the tripod, facing him. Gyuhan breathed in deeply, checking his reflection against the dark screen on the phone before pressing on the 'Live' button. 

"Hello!" Gyuhan greeted, smiling widely as he waved to the camera. "How are our CARATs today?"

mingyuschick: what? it's gyuhan? dkkkkk1209: why is he still in the group lmao ighoutofsvt: get out of SVT! ot134ever: go to hell, Im Gyuhan!

Gyuhan's eyes raked over the comments quickly. His lungs tightened when he saw them, but he quickly reminded himself that he only had one chance per year to do a live, and he mustn't screw it up.

"Yep! Today is my birthday!" He told the phone, ignoring the many 'who asked' and 'get out of seventeen' comments. He reached over for the cake he had bought himself beforehand, moving it to the center of the screen. "Shall we have a chat today? And we'll blow the candles together once it reaches 12am." He muttered, sticking the candle into the plain vanilla cake. The staff had forgotten to buy him a cake again, so Gyuhan took it upon himself. The last time, they had bought a peach-flavored cake, sending Gyuhan into a fit of allergy once he logged off from his birthday live.

But no one except him and the staff knew. 

hannieforlyfe: that's a really pathetic cakechannieworld: oppa! you only got 3 seconds of screen time for the maestro comeback! what do you think about that?lalalihhu: at this rate you should just leave seventeenjoshuji17: happy 27th birthday!ighoutofsvt: get out of SVT! couparang4ever: are you not showing your gifts this year again?

"This cake is not pathetic, it's just simple." Gyuhan explained, wagging his finger at the screen. He got up towards the fridge in the room and took out an icing bag. “I’ll decorate it on my own.”

ighoutofsvt: so extra for what? jeonghansvt: happy birthday, our fourteenth~ hannieforlyfe: it’s Jeonghan! joshuji17: hi jeonghan!

Gyuhan paused slightly at the words on the screen. Under the table, his hands curled into a fist but his lips curled into a smile. “Thank you, Jeonghan hyung.”

jeonghansvt: the others and i are out at a bbq~ jeonghansvt: we’re sorry that you couldn’t join us because of the live~ jeonghansvt: enjoy your live~ i’m out of here~

Gyuhan knew he did it on purpose. But he kept his smile on his face, his nails digging into the skin of his fist. “What a pity, hyung. Have fun!” He answered simply, before reaching for the bag. “I’m going to start decorating this cake…”

Gyuhan had never joined dinner with his members in private. Everything is for show on the programmes, where Gyuhan’s image was snobby and simply disdainful. The members make sure it was kept that way for ten years. 

ighoutofsvt: he’s disregarding jeonghan!couparang4ever: can someone kick that hater out of the room?gyuhannie: oppa! sorry that i’m late to your live!

Gyuhan’s eyes lit up at the ID. For the first time in the night, a genuine and bright smile appeared on his face. “Hello there. It’s alright, you’re just in time.”

10 February, 2017

It has been two years since they debuted. 

Gyuhan sat at the very end of the stage, watching his members laugh and play on the stage. Half of his body was shrouded in darkness, but no one seemed to realize that. Everyone’s attention was on the thirteen figures in the light.

At this point of time, Gyuhan had stopped harboring hope. He knew that the members would never accept him, no matter how hard he worked for them. He remembered how Chan wiped his hands in disgust after putting his arms around Gyuhan for the camera. 

“Ew, let Kwannie hyung do that next time,” he complained to Seungcheol, who barely even looked up from his phone. Gyuhan was left stranded in the room, before retreating to his usual corner by the stand-by room.

And now he sat on the stool, half-hidden by the darkness, watching them play around on the stage with a hole in his heart. 

The fansign was even worse. The fans either ignored Gyuhan, or just urged him to sign their album before taking out another for the other members. Gyuhan kept his smile on, his voice soft as he repeated his actions again and again, greeting every fan that walked past him. He saw the manager adjusting some of the gifts for the members, and he glanced around at the empty table that belonged to him.

Pathetic, he thought, before a figure sat down in front of him.

“Hello!” Gyuhan’s heart raced. A blushing girl smiled sweetly as she sat down in front of him with an album in hand. “Hello, Gyuhan-ssi!”   

“H-hi!” Gyuhan stammered. “How are you?” He asked, as the fan began to share a short conversation with him. When the time was up, she promised to see Gyuhan at the next fansign.

“I’ll make an ID called ‘Gyuhannie’!” That was her promise when she left. 

And she did. 

02 February, 2019

It has been four years since Gyuhan had joined SEVENTEEN.

The group has started to gain popularity. When Gyuhan had followed Seokmin, Joshua and Soonyoung to the store under their ‘friendly’ request, fans spotted them and requested for photos. 

None paid attention to him. 

“Hey, could you help us take a photo?” A fan approached Gyuhan, shoving her phone to his face. Gyuhan’s eyes peeked out from the beanie, and he nodded, raising the phone and facing it to the fans and the other three. 

“One, two, three, smile!” The camera clicked, and the fans thanked the other three for the pictures. Gyuhan silently picked up the grocery bags, walking to the car on his own. He has already grown numb to this, whether it be the treatment of his members or CARATs. Even hosts from shows also seem to forget about him, rarely cueing him unless the director had reminded them. 

Gyuhan felt invisible. 

At times, he was thankful that he was invisible. That means that nobody paid attention to him, and Gyuhan could take a rest from malicious comments and hateful thoughts. But other times, Gyuhan was miserable. 

Gyuhan is part of SEVENTEEN.

Isn’t he?

As the fans bade the members goodbye, one of them turned to her friend, whispering. “Hey, who’s the guy in the beanie?”

“No idea, maybe a manager?”

09 February, 2015

“That’s the last time you should make a mistake, Im Gyuhan!”

Soonyoung roared in frustration as the members groaned, Seungkwan running to stop the music. Again, this is the third time Gyuhan made a mistake in the choreography. Gyuhan’s heart thumped as he bowed, apologizing again and again for making a mistake. “I’m really sorry-”

“I don’t think you are. Do you think being an idol is a joke, huh? You came out of nowhere, parachuting into our group and destroying our months-worth hard work. Is it funny to you?” Soonyoung grabbed Gyuhan’s shirt, as the others attempted to calm him down. “Calm down, Soonyoung-ah!”

Gyuhan could feel the room glaring with him with dislike. He felt suffocated, his muscles sore and tired from exhaustion. A hand gripped his shoulder tightly, and Gyuhan turned to see Minghao staring expressionlessly at him. 

“I think you should leave for the moment, Gyuhan-ssi.” He had never called him hyung, not once. “We need time to calm Soonyoung down, maybe you should do that too.”

Gyuhan left.

No one followed him.

24 May, 2025

gyuhannie: oppa, you look tired.

Gyuhan sat alone in his bedroom, smiling at the comment. The staff had finally gotten him a nice looking birthday cake, a chocolate-flavored one. It’s not as fancy as what the other members have, but still, it’s enough for Gyuhan. 

“Do I?” His voice was light. “Maybe I should go to bed earlier today. Once I finish blowing the candles, anyway.”

svtot134ever: you’re really not fit to be an idol gyugyus38: can you haters just leave him alone? haodebah: you have gifts this year?

“Yep! Wonwoo gave me that, and Jun gave me that.” Gyuhan pointed at two nicely-wrapped presents placed right behind him. “Oh, but I want to show you guys some cool stuff.”

For some reason, the hate for Gyuhan had been reduced. The other members have also started to become friendly towards Gyuhan, and Mingyu even helped him when he moved out of the dorm to his current apartment. Gyuhan hadn’t accepted his help, only agreeing when the manager told him that they needed extra manpower. 

And for some strange reason, they have been acting nicer to him. Gyuhan didn’t know why, and he didn’t want to know why. Who knows what they might be planning for him? So when Jihoon showed up at his apartment with a fruit basket and gifts, Gyuhan just let him in. 

He’s too tired to think anymore. 

For ten years that they have known each other, Jihoon and Gyuhan hadn’t really spoken to each other, unless he was in the recording studio. Gyuhan would say that Jihoon was actually one of the nicer members towards him, not paying much attention and yet just coldly watching him struggle from the sidelines. So when Jihoon heard that he was allergic to peaches, Gyuhan caught guilt flashing past his eyes. 

But why?

“I’m sorry, I’ll take this back-” “No, leave it. It’s fine.” Gyuhan sat across from Jihoon, gesturing for him to put the fruit basket containing the peaches down. “What makes you visit me today?”

“Oh,” Jihoon looked nervous. He pointed to the bags he took with him. “Happy birthday. I mean, Wonwoo and Jun asked me to bring these… And here’s mine…” He took out a box from one of the bags, placing it in front of Gyuhan. 

Gyuhan was taken aback. Is he in a dream? Is Jihoon really sitting in front of him, wishing him a happy birthday? 

“Jihoon gifted me this. Isn’t it pretty?” Gyuhan opened the box, revealing a pen lying in it. Gyuhan’s name was carved into the pen, and he gently held it to the camera, his eyes shining with delight. 

picheolinshat: that’s actually a nice looking pen.gyuhannie: it’s really pretty!ot134ever: it’s just a penujijijijjiji: what about wonwoo’s gift?iokfsn920: open jun’s gift!

“I’ll open Jun’s gift first.” Gyuhan took a quick glance at the screen, before turning his attention to the bag. Carefully, Gyuhan took out a nicely wrapped package. He unwrapped it, revealing a pair of gloves. 

“This is nice.” Gyuhan immediately put the gloves on, but it was too big for his hand. 

couparang4ever: LOL jun bought the wrong sizehanniehaeeee: HAHAHAHAHA wrong size dkkk920: how did he buy the wrong size? 

“They’re really warm and fuzzy.” Gyuhan rubbed the material of the glove between his fingers after he pulled them off. He cleared his throat, looking at the clock. 

“Ah, it’s time.” 

He lit the candle up, his gaze alternating between the clock and the comment section. The fans were counting down with him, and when the minute hand reached twelve, Gyuhan smiled. 

25 May, 2025

“Happy 30th birthday to me, CARATs.”

© yiichan, 2024 origin of divider

[dishearteningmediocrity]

June 25th, 1937

Eighty-seven years ago, on June 25th, 1937, Colin Clive died in Los Angeles, California. This was a column that appeared in the Monday, June 28th edition of the Hollywood Citizen News, written by Edwin Martin--columnist, press agent, and acquaintance of Colin's. If I remember correctly, Gregory Mank quoted excerpts from this in his biography, but the article is worth reading in full. There's a poignant tribute underneath all the name-dropping.

Yeah, I know, not enough misery in the world these days, so it's time to dredge up more from the depths of the past. Still, it's an interesting glimpse into his life and death--and some of the people left behind.

Source: Hollywood Citizen News, Monday, June 28, 1937. Accessed via www.newspapers.com.

Transcript below.

CINEMANIA by Edwin Martin

JOURNEY'S END

"Think of all the chaps who've gone already. It can't be very lonely there--with all those fellows. Sometimes I think it's lonelier here."

Night after night we had heard him deliver those lines, and they never failed to touch us.

On this day they came back to us again--more poignantly than ever.

A few of us had gathered for a round-table at our favorite spot in Travaglini's--it was also his favorite corner that we occupied.

Just a few weeks before we had sat at this same table with him and planned a radio interview.

Soon after, when he went to the hospital, came a note in this manner: "Must have this old pump repaired a bit. Sorry we'll have to postpone our interview until I come out. Keep the corner warm at Travaglini's."

We had known him for many years--known him and admired him since they first brought him from England to star in the picture version of the same play he had made famous on the stage.

Later, when the play was revived by E.E. Clive, we enjoyed a most pleasant association while handling the publicity on the show during its run here at the Hollywood Playhouse.

During this time we got a little closer to this quiet, rather lonely man, who made famous the role of the hard-drinking Captain Stanhope in the stage and screen productions of "Journey's End."

Few knew it, but all during the past few months, even when he made such a hit in his outstanding part in "History is Made at Night," he had been carrying on under the constant shadow of a long illness--an illness which was gradually eating his heart out...but he never complained.

Sometimes there was a faraway look in his eyes as he talked--just that--nothing more--he was Captain Stanhope to the end.

A few of us were keeping the corner warm for him at Travaglini's that day when we heard Colin Clive had reached his journey's end.

WALTER BYRON, another fine young British actor, was studying his lines at the bar for the splendid part he plays with Sarah Padden in "Chilikoot Lou," with which Miss Padden soon returns to the vaudeville stage.

Eric Blore, inimitable English comedian, still in make-up, was also there...and Larry Kent, Hollywood's wandering actor, just back from directing and acting in England, was telling about a picture he wanted to make in the South Seas...Eddie Lee, known as England's "Donald Novis," was resting from his triumphant opening at the Century Club...and we were listening to the gentle elder Mr. Travaglini tell about stirring days when as a young man he was an officer in the Italian army...while Tony Travaglini, Jr., looked over a radio script planned as a welcome home to Harry Langdon.

Into this crowd of men came a saddened figure--a lovely woman who had been a friend of Colin. She was the last member of that gay trio who often occupied this same table together...from which another splendid young British actor, John Buckler, had left one night only to meet his journey’s end in Malibou Lake in a tragic auto accident.

She was the last one left—and she dragged her weary self up to the bar and ordered a double brandy.

Everyone wanted to ask about his condition, but Larry Kent was the only one who had the courage… “How is he?” he asked.

“He is going,” the woman said. “When I left he was already in the oxygen tent. They wouldn’t let me see him,” she said, trying desperately not to break down.

Because she knew that even a friend of Captain Stanhope must face unknown adventures with head held high.

A phone rang—it was for her—she answered it. Somehow the ominous tone of that ringing let us know the message. “He’s gone.”

Silently the glasses were filled…then Eric Blore lifted his glass. “I give you Colin Clive,” he said simply, and a toast was taken in his memory…and eventually each man filed out and went his separate way.

Somehow we believed that Colin Clive would have liked to know that his journey’s end had been accepted with such a gesture…as he went to that last rendezvous with his old friend, John Buckler...and as we walked out into the sunshine we remembered that we had other things to do--other things to write--but the only words we could think of were his gallant words from "Journey's End."

"Think of all the chaps who've gone already. It can't be very lonely there--with all those fellows. Sometimes I think it's lonelier here"....we are keeping the corner warm for you--Adios, Colin Clive.

[jomeimei421]

Felt a bit nostalgic watching RT shut down…Here are the og faves again for old times sake 💙

[alagaisia]

Hey if you’re still enjoying and engaging with Harry Potter in any capacity you can unfollow me 😊 please and thank you

Like. I get it. I was super into it as a kid too. I did not have the social context to pick up on the antisemitism or transphobia or sexism or fatphobia or bioessentialism or racism or anything else. I also picked up on surface-level language of Fighting Back Against Evil and ascribed my own values onto what that meant and thought we were all on the same page. I remember when the original kids who grew up with the books started becoming adult fans and picking up on the (blatant!) antisemitism and everybody was still mostly willing to give JKR the benefit of the doubt on it. (“She was writing kids books!” They said. “She didn’t know she was penning a global phenomenon! She picked a common literary trend in European fairy tales (antisemitic caricature) and didn’t examine it closely. It’s a mistake anyone could make,” we said. “She would probably do things differently now. After all, she word-of-god confirmed the vaguest hints she dropped that Dumbledore might be gay,” we said.) There was actually a span of several years where biases inherent in the actual real content of the Harry Potter series were coming to light and even the people pointing them out still seemed mostly to think it was an unfortunate accident.

That time has passed. Years ago! We are long past the first months of “maybe she doesn’t realize this seemingly-feminist tweet she liked was made by a noted TERF” and then “how could she not realize that these many veiled TERF-y things she’s retweeted have implications for the many queer fans of her work” and finally “oh wow okay JKR just dropped an entire transphobic manifesto on twitter. I guess the transphobia was the point.”

Yeah, there were a few months after that where people were still processing and still working through how they felt about Harry Potter and all of its flaws with the context of the now open transphobia of the creator. I was there for that. Remember how I was one of the kids who built it up into something noble and worthwhile based on my own beliefs about what messages it was probably trying to convey? Turns out it wasn’t trying to say any of those things, and when you take the time to examine all of the terrible shit that made its way into the text whether JKR intended it to be there or not, the whole series falls apart. It’s weird to discover that there’s a room in your house that’s rotten to the core, but eventually you figure out you can’t live like that, still going in there and holding your nose and pretending it’s still the same room you thought it was when the termites were only inside of the walls and hadn’t yet started chewing their way through the furniture. Because what’s going to happen is that they are going to infest the rest of your house. If you decide you can ignore transphobia and antisemitism and everything else just because you liked the color of the wallpaper, the rest of your principles are going to crumble too. You get rid of that fucking room. You put those books on a high shelf in the back of your closet behind other outgrown clothes and interests and you move the fuck on.

JKR uses the money made from her transphobic antisemitic children’s books to actively funding hate groups and to lobby for legislation that will and has actually affected the actual lives of trans people in an entire country. We are past the point of grieving something you were wrong about in childhood. Kids are wrong about a lot of stuff. You grow up and you learn new information and you change your behaviors based on it. You have to choose. It is transphobic to pretend there is not transphobia where there is. It is transphobic to support the work of someone who is using those funds to take rights from trans people with every fucking dollar. It is hateful to continue to engage positively with a story that at its very core is rooted in hate and bigotry and prejudice. You can choose to do all of those things but you cannot claim ignorance of them and you cannot choose those things and still pretend that choosing them upholds the values we convinced ourselves that Harry Potter stood for over a decade ago as uninformed children. You cannot choose to do those things and pretend to still support your trans and queer and Jewish neighbors. I do not want you in my neighborhood. Leave.

[witheredgardenparty]

I will never forgive a single one of you