#i can't remember the book i read it from so i didn't go into it because i couldn't remember the details lol

[prettealolilol]

I feel like as a reader and someone who grew up poor, Jason doesn't really pay attention to was he uses as a bookmark. Of course he has a handful of those, birthday and christmas presents, or simply gifts from when Bruce first found out the kid loved reading and wanted him to feel at home. And since the man is rich and emotionally constipated, he bought Jason really expensive bookmarks, like one made in China with a really detailed dragon carved into the wood, or another one embedded with little diamonds from France. Jason doesn't really understand, because a paper would be enough, you know ? There was only one bookmark Jason had truly felt overjoyed to have : one that belong to Jane Austen. Needless to say, Bruce had almost cried when Jason hugged him tight, smiling like he was trying to rival the sun. (When Jason died, Bruce framed the bookmark and put it in one of his desk drawers. When Jason came back, and they were on better terms, he went to his son place and put back the bookmark. When Jason came home, he found a birthday gift awfully wrapped up on his bed. If he cried while holding the bookmark, no one needed to know.)

Back to the point, Jason doesn't really care about what he uses, as long as he doesn't lose his page (although he almost gutted Tim when the boy folded the corner of his book. Instead he shook him like a puppet, telling him about how disrespectfull he was towards books and writers.).

---

Tim, pocking his head in the kitchen, where Alfred is busy cooking and Jason is reading : Has anyone seen my budget report ? I left it on the table in the library this morning, and I can't find it.

Jason, not looking up, shrugging : No one cares about your reports Timbers, no someone would have move it.

Tim leaves, sighing. Later, when Jason goes to close his book and reach for the paper he was using, he realises he was holding said report. Alfred raises an eyebrow. He must have taken it when he picked up the book in the library.

---

Damian, barging the cave, clearly annoyed : Todd !

Jason, repairing his bike : What, demon brat.

Damian : Tell me this instance if you have taken my sketchbook.

Jason, looking up : Why the fuck would I have your sketchbook gremlin ? Your dog is more likely to have run off with it.

Damian stomps back into the manor grumbling about Titus being more polite that Tood could ever be. Jason decides to ignore him. Later, when he's done with his bike and picks up his current book for some well deserved reading time, something falls with a thud when he opens it. Apparently he was the one with the sketchbook and used it as a bookmark. He didn't even realised. He'll have to find a way to give it back without the baby demon knowing.

---

Jason and Cass are sitting on the couch when he remembers he left his phone in his room and is expecting some informations. He looks around for something that could keep the book open, finding nothing.

Cass is staring at him, signing : Looking for something ?

Jason stares at her hand for a few seconds, before shrugging. He takes her left hand, the closest one and put it on his book : Don't move just a sec, i gotta go get something.

Cass stares at his back incredulously. When he comes back and take back his book, she just shakes her head, a fond smile on her lips.

---

Bruce, walking into the living room where the kids are playing : Does anyone have 20 bucks I can borrow ?

Jason, snorting : Aren't you, like, the richest man in the country ?

Bruce : I need to pick up something and they don't take card. There was an issue with the bank so no money can be withdrawn. I put a 20$ bill in the kitchen but I can't find it.

Dick, standing up, taking his wallet : I've got you. You owe me now though.

Bruce, slightly smiling : Sure chum.

When Jason get back to his place in the next morning and drops on his bed, he pulls out the book Tim had recommended a few days ago (although nobody can know he's reading it). A 20$ bill slips on his bed when he opens the book. He takes it, putting it his back pocket.

Jason, grinning : It's sad he didn't even try to find it. It would have so satisfying to watch the great Batman look for a bill hidden in a book.

---

Jason is helping Alfred bring the groceries to the kitchen, because no one in the godforsaken rich family should be trusted with food or anything to do with cooking.

Duke, shouting from the library : Why is there a dictionary open in the middle of the library ? On another book ?

Jason, who hadn't had the time to look for a proper bookmark : It's so I don't lose my page.

Duke, still shouting : Why a dictionary though ?

Jason ignores him. He doesn't have to explain himself.

---

Dick, at Jason's door : Hey little wing, have you seen my blue swe-

Jason, looking at his phone on his bed : What ?

Dick : You're the one who had it all this time. Seriously Jay, why don't you just ask- Why is there an open book underneath ?

Jason, shoting up : Don't touch that ! You're gonna make me lose my page.

Dick, blinking : Don't you have like thousand of bookmarks ?

Jason : Shut up.

---

When Stephanie breaks in Jason's apartment, he is grumbling about babysitting while bringing his med kit. She reaches his couch and suddenly she's laughing so hard she ends up wheezing on the floor. Jason doesn't understand why, until she stands back up slowly, taking her phone out to take a picture. Jason doesn't know if she's laughing at the book mark that is in fact a mug, or at the mug itself. It's clearly holding on for dear life, put down in between the pages, absolutly not stable. He then receives a text on the children Batman kidnapped 's groupchat, seeing a picture of a mug with Batman's signature bat symbol and the inscription 'this mug survives longer than Robins' (actually, Tim has a matching one with the inscription 'bats don't kill... coffee might', but no one needs to know that.).

[ashen-char]

the altar is her hips 🔞

ship: anora mikheeva (anora) x fem reader

summary: it's finals week but ani convinces you into taking a sexy break with her.

word count: 2700+

notes: i had a strong urge to name this one "this is me swallowing (my pride)" but false god fit better than back to december lmfaooo. student fem reader suggested here, service top reader and ani loving to tell her what to do suggested here <3 thank youuu

You barely register the sound of heels on the linoleum, steadily clicking their way towards you. The library is packed, after all. With exam week coming up, there's more people here than there have been all semester. Everyone who had been pushing back their coursework is now suddenly cramming it in. You hate studying when it's too quiet anyways, you can't focus that way. Your eyes are glued to the textbook in front of you, words blurring together as you try to make sense of the impossibly dense material. The only thing keeping you going is the half-empty energy drink beside you, the chocolates you had instead of a proper dinner, and the distant promise of sleep - whenever that might happen.

Then, a familiar presence slides into the chair next to you. She must have come to visit straight from work, because it's damn near 5am. Ani's chewing some gum, snapping it between her teeth.

"Wow," Anora drawls, propping her chin on one hand as she surveys the mess of notes, highlighters, and sheer academic despair spread out across the table. "This is tragic. When's the last time you slept, baby?"

"Fuck. I don't know. I don't even think I got proper rest yesterday," you admit. You were tossing and turning all night, the only sleep you got being fitful at best. "I was reciting case study names in my head so I don't forget any. With AI bullshit, the uni's cracked down on making all exams closed-book."

"I can tell. Even your eyebags have eyebags." Ani, amused by her own joke, blows a bubble and it snaps. You roll your eyes, but that makes her smile, reaching over and running her thumb across your cheek. "Don't worry, they're designer. My baby's got Prada eyebags, for damn sure."

You hum in acknowledgement. "Yeah, thanks." Barely listening, unfortunately, even though you want to give your girlfriend all your attention. It's for both of you. All your efforts, your good grades, will culminate in a better life for the both of you. That's what you tell yourself when you have to blow off date night for a deadline anyhow.

Ani shifts closer, pulling out her bag. "I could put some BB cream on you at least," she offers.

You turn a page. The paragraphs are blurring together and while you swear you've read this before, it also looks brand new at the same time. You sigh, rubbing your temples, willing the information to stick. When you reach something you didn't remember from your lectures, you jot it down on your lined paper, highlighting the key words. "It’s exam week. I don’t have time to be cute."

"Good thing I’m cute enough for both of us, then." She grins, stretching her legs out so her foot nudges yours under the table. She’s wearing ripped jeans and a cropped hoodie that definitely isn’t hers - it’s probably yours, stolen at some point and now claimed as her own.

"Whisper at least, babe. If you're insistent on talking in the library." You gesture to all the other stressed-out students, your peers in suffering. While various courses have their exams spread out so there are no clashes, the energy of finals is potent in the air.

"Boring." You glance at her, but she’s already plucking one of your highlighters off the table, twirling it between her fingers like she’s contemplating doing something devious with it.

"How long have you been at this?" Anora asks. She picks up the stack of papers from your other classes, flipping absently through your notes and you watch in case she highlights something. "Because I’m gonna guess… too long."

"Since this morning. And all day yesterday."

Anora whistles. "You know, there are laws against self-torture."

You huff a tired laugh. "Not in Professor Raye's class."

She leans back in her chair, crossing her arms. "OK, here’s the deal. You take a break. Like, a real fuckin' break. No ‘just one more chapter.’ No ‘let me just finish this section.’ You step away from this table, right now, and I will personally reward you with something better than whatever caffeine-fueled nightmare you’re living," Anora says, poking your metal tumblr that was once filled with iced coffee - probably melted and watered down now.

You narrow your eyes at her. "And what exactly is this reward?"

She smirks, tapping a manicured finger against the table. "Guess you’ll have to find out."

You exhale slowly, staring down at your textbook like it might physically pull you back in if you look too long. But then Anora nudges your chair with her foot again, insistent, and there’s something warm in the way she’s watching you - amused, fond of you, but also knowing. Like she’s seen a hundred people burn themselves out and decided you won’t be one of them.

You sigh, shutting the book. "Fine. Five minutes. But then I'm continuing this in my dorm. And I have to check this book out."

"Ten minutes."

"Seven."

"Nine."

"Eight and a half."

"Deal."

She grins like she’s just won something. It reminds you of the time Anora took you to Coney Island because you said you'd never been. That night was magical, and you two had so much fun taking turns winning each other prizes. That proud-of-herself gleam in her eyes as she presented you with a stuffed tiger. Anora stands and holds out her hand to you, the butterfly charms glued onto her pretty nails seeming to glitter under the cold library lights.

Snapping your textbook shut, you take Ani's hand when she holds hers out for you, with her standing up in a shot and grabbing her purse. "That's my girl," she purrs. "Grab your jacket, sugar. We're going somewhere that'll make you forget all about... whatever boring ass shit you were studying."

When she pulls you up, she doesn’t let go. She leads you out of the quiet, fluorescent-lit library and into the bustling campus streets. The cold air is sharp, but Ani seems unperturbed, skipping slightly as she walks. Her heels click against the pavement, drawing the occasional glance from passing strangers.

"You really think you can make me relax in eight minutes?" you ask, curious about her plan. You'll give her the benefit of not taking travel time into your little deal though.

"Oh, you'll love it. Promise, babe."

xx

Luckily, the location she had in mind was apparently your dorm room. Ani lies back on your bed with its cheap sheets, her long dark hair splayed out around her. The tinsel in it really makes her shine, if the body glitter isn't enough. When she's unbuttoning her jeans, you tease her, "if making me fuck you was the break you had in mind, remember you've still only got eight minutes."

"Eight and a half," she reminds. "Don't rush this. And get your shirt off."

She's wearing a lacy black bra and a matching thong that leaves little to the imagination, her pale skin glowing in the dim light of your room. She looks up at you with hooded brown eyes, biting her plump lower lip as she beckons you closer.

"Get that pretty face between my legs," Ani orders, her breath hitching with anticipation. "And don't you dare stop until I tell you to. Think of it like studying for that exam - except instead of boring old notes, you've got a girl in your bed. Lucky you."

You like when she tells you what to do. How to kiss her, fuck her, lick her. It's a dizzying push-pull of control, where you're the one bringing her to ecstasy but she's the one commanding you to get her there.

"C'mere, baby," she purrs, voice dripping with desperate desire. Her accent slips out when she's not thinking about it, too focused on getting you where she wants you. "I want your mouth on me. Now."

"Yes, ma'am."

Anora spreads her legs, revealing the damp spot clear on her panties. The sight makes your mouth go dry, your heart pounding in your chest. You've seen Ani dance, have felt her body pressed against yours, but this is different. This feels more intimate, more vulnerable. The time limit you've set on this also adds to the thrill.

"Start by kissing up my thighs," Ani instructs, her voice breathy. "Nice and slow. I want to feel those lips of yours."

You obediently lower your head, pressing soft kisses along the inside of her thigh. You can smell her arousal, musky and intoxicating, as you work your way up. Ani shivers beneath your touch, her fingers tangling in your messy hair.

"I like when you tease me, baby."

"Mmm," you hum against her skin. "I know."

"Fuck, just like that," she gasps, guiding you higher with her hands. "Don't stop, baby. Keep going until you reach-" A little gasp when your tongue flits out for just a moment. Tasting the sweat on her skin from hours under HQ's bright lights, from working hard.

You continue your ascent, kissing and licking every inch of her soft, creamy skin. When you reach the apex of her thighs, you hook your fingers into the waistband of her panties and tug them down slowly, revealing her glistening folds. Ani lifts her hips to help you remove them completely, leaving her bare before you.

"Look at me," she commands, tilting your chin up with her fingers. "I want to see your face when you taste me for the first time. I want to watch you lose yourself in my pussy."

"Position me then." You'll lose yourself in between her thighs over and over if it means Ani's directing you. "You guide where I go."

Her eyes darken. You know she loves the control, it's what she appreciates about dancing at the club and getting suckers falling for her movements. Her grip tightens on your hair, guiding you downwards until your face is mere inches from her glistening folds. The scent of her arousal fills your nostrils, sweet and musky. It's almost overwhelming, in the best way possible.

"Start by kissing up and down the lips," Ani instructs, voice breathless. "Get them nice and wet with your mouth first. Show me how much you worship this cunt."

You lock eyes with her, your breath catching in your throat as you lean in close. Your first lick is tentative, a soft swipe along her slit to test her flavor. Ani tastes sweet and tangy, her arousal coating your tongue. It's intoxicating, and you find yourself wanting more.

Trailing open-mouthed kisses along her lower lips, you relish the silky smooth skin and the taste of her excitement. Knowing that it's all yours. You made her like this. You can feel Ani squirming beneath you, her grip on your hair tightening.

"That's it, baby. Just like that," she encourages, her hips rocking subtly against your face. "Now, focus on the clit. Suck on it, flick it with your tongue. 'til you feel it throb."

You do as you're told, capturing her clit between your lips and suckling gently. You flick the sensitive bud with the tip of your tongue, feeling it swell and stiffen from the stimulation.

"Ah fuck!" Ani gasps, her head falling back against your pillows. "Don't stop, nngh - just like that. Your tongue feels so fucking good." She's almost ranting mindlessly now, sounding so out of it as you keep going.

You can feel her growing more and more aroused by the second, her juices coating your chin and dripping onto the bedsheets below. You don't mind though. You'll buy a spare set some other time, after exam week has come and gone. The taste of her is intoxicating, and you know you could spend hours worshipping her like this.

"Mmm, you're a natural at eating pussy, ain't ya?" Ani giggles as her thighs clench around your head, trying to sit up to look at you know. "I knew you were hiding some skills under that nerdy exterior."

"My favourite meal."

"Oh fuck," Ani whimpers, her head falling back against the pillow as you start to eat her out in earnest. "Don't you dare fucking stop, babygirl. Put that tongue to work, baby. Bury it in my cunt. Show me how badly you want to please me."

You feel a rush of pride at her words, determined to impress her even more. You drag your tongue back down to her entrance, pushing past the lips to thrust your tongue inside, fucking her with the slick muscle.

Everything starts to become a blur. It could have taken hours, maybe minutes. You delve in deeper, your tongue plunging into her hot, tight center. Ani's walls clench around you, like her cunt is trying to pull you in even further, eager for more. Desperate. Aching. You lap at her greedily, savouring her taste and scent, relishing in the way she writhes beneath your touch. You squeeze your own thighs together, your own center throbbing in response.

You relentlessly thrust your tongue in and out, curling it to hit that spongy spot you know drives her wild. Ani is writhing underneath you, fisting the sheets and writhing against your probing, relentless tongue.

"I can't believe how good you're making me feel," Ani confesses, "No one's ever worshipped my pussy like this before. Like they actually gave a fuck about making me, oh God, making me cum."

You glance up at her, seeing tears glistening in her brown eyes. You slow down your movements, gentling your licks as you take in her expression. "Hey, hey... don't cry," you murmur, pressing a tender kiss to her clit. Slowing it down. Letting her acclimate to it all. "I'm here. I'm right here. And I'm not going anywhere."

"You really mean that?" Ani asks, her voice choked with emotion. "Because, fuck, I mean... no one's ever said they loved me like this before. Like I'm a real person, not just-not just a warm hole to fuck or something."

You feel a lump form in your throat and you blink back your own tears. "I mean it," you promise her fervently. "I love you, Ani. I love every fucking part of you, from your fierce spirit to your broken places to this perfect, greedy little cunt."

Their words seem to be what Ani needs to hear to reach that delicious, mind-ruining peak. She comes undone with a sharp cry, her orgasm crashing over her like a tidal wave. Her pussy spasms and clenches around your tongue, gushing her release into your eager mouth. She tastes hot and wet, a little sweetness to it. You lap it up greedily, humming in satisfaction as you work her through her high.

As her tremors subside, Ani goes limp on the bed, her chest heaving with exertion. "Holy shit," she whispers, a dazed look on her face. "That was-I can't even..."

You crawl up her body and gather her into your arms, holding her close. Ani buries her face in the crook of your neck, breathing in the scent of your skin. You stroke her hair soothingly, letting her come down from her intense orgasm.

"Thank you," Ani murmurs, pressing a kiss to your jaw. "Thank you for seeing me. For not just wanting to fuck me and then throw me away. I'm not used to feeling so - I dunno, shit - appreciated? Worth something?"

You tilt her chin up and press your lips to hers in a deep, tender kiss. 

"You're worth everything," you tell her. You'll tell her over and over again until she believes it.

Ani kisses you back just as passionately, her tongue sliding against yours. Tasting her own cum in your mouth and all over your face. It's filthy and yet still so romantic. When you finally break apart, you see her cheeks are streaked with tears.

"I love you too, you know," Ani declares, a fierce look in her eyes. "You're stuck with me now. Hope you know that."

And it's true for your sex, but especially true as you build your lives together. So you repeat, "you guide where I go."

Anora shoves your shoulder for that, but you can tell she loves it. Eventually, she goes limp against the sheets, panting and flushed. She looks down at you with glazed eyes and a lazy grin. "Not bad for a study break, huh?" she giggles breathlessly. "We make a good fuckin' team."

Looking at the clock, you're not surprised to see you've gone madly overtime. Her pussy just does that to you. Burrowing in Anora's sweat-slicked chest, you groan. You're too exhausted to study now. "I'm gonna fucking fail this exam."

[xiaojunsmintchoco]

hey! could you do a reaction of seventeen with a partner who's afraid of needles? thank youuu

Hey anon! Here you go, I hope you enjoy it :)

tw: mentions of hospitals, needles, operations etc

Seungcheol:

“Y/n! That vaccination appointment you said you needed – have you booked it?”

Upon hearing Seungcheol’s voice boom from the other end of the living room, your heart sinks to the pit of your stomach like a pebble that was thrown into a pond. Looking back at him with guilty eyes, you shake your head and mouth a “no”, only to be met with his scolding stare.

“Y/n-ah, you can't avoid it forever,” he gently chides, approaching you as you direct your gaze to the floor and shift from foot to foot. “What about that nursing course you’ve been so excited about? You need the vaccinations to update your medical records to be eligible for application,” he reminds you. 

“I know, it's just…” your voice trails off mid-sentence as you contemplate whether you should tell Seungcheol the truth – your fear of needles was stopping you from getting it done. 

You didn't have to decide, because your boyfriend can read you like an open book. “You're scared, aren't you?” he guesses, softening his gaze. As you nod slowly, he reaches out to give your arm a comforting squeeze. “What about this – I book an appointment for you and we go together. I’ll be there to comfort you if you're scared. How does that sound?” 

“You know what, having you there might make it a little better,” you answer with a small smile. “At least I won't be alone”. 

“Let’s book an appointment now then,” Seungcheol declares, taking the phone from your hands and scrolling through the clinic’s calendar. “There’s an empty slot for three days later, and it happens to be my day off too. Does that work for you?” 

“Book it quickly, before I chicken out again,” you declare.

You're rewarded with a gentle flick to the forehead and a “tsk” from Seungcheol as he makes quick work of booking the appointment. “Alright, it's done”.

Jeonghan:

”Yah, y/n,” Jeonghan calls from his seat across from you. Your head snaps up, only to be met with his mischievous grin. “I can see the cogs in your head turning — you better not be thinking of running away”.

You groan, knowing that Jeonghan had seen through you. “Okay, fine, you got me,” you concede. “But even if I tried I wouldn’t be able to”.

”Hey, I know getting the cannula inserted is scary,” Jeonghan acknowledges, empathizing with you. “But think about it. Once this operation is done, your wrist will be able to heal easier and quicker and you can get back to doing everything you love doing,” he adds, attempting to make you see the bright side. 

“The first step is always the hardest, isn’t it? I’m only watching the nurse and anaesthetist prepare the needle and all, and I’m already terrified,” you confess, eyes darting left and right tentatively. 

“Don’t look at them then,” Jeonghan responds. “Look at me. I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying here until they wheel you into the operating theatre. And when you wake up, I’ll be right beside you too. I’ll be with you all the way,” he reassures, and the corners of your lips turn upwards slightly as gratitude blooms in your heart. “Remember. An ant will bite you, you’ll fall asleep and wake up as if you had 10 shots of soju, and you’ll be a cyborg,” he jokes as you chuckle at the mental image that he had painted for you. 

“Thanks, Hannie,” you answer, shooting him a grateful smile. “When you say it like that, it does make it sound better”.  

When the anaesthetist inserts the cannula, Jeonghan sings to you throughout the whole process to put you at ease. His honey-sweet voice calms you down and steadies your rapidly-beating heart, and you get the cannula inserted with little pain. “You’ll be okay! I love you,” he calls as the operating staff wheel you into the theatre, and the last thought you have before falling asleep is of his encouraging smile. The operation goes without a hitch, and before you know it you’re out of the operation room again.

Indeed, true to his word, the first thing you see when you wake up is him sitting next to your bed with a shiny, metallic “get well soon” balloon with a cartoon print on it meant for children, a sheet of stickers, and a “bravery certificate” he designed and signed himself.

other members under the cut!

Joshua:

“Do I really have to do this?” you groan as he sits down on a chair in the waiting area, leaving one seat in between the both of you to adhere to social distancing guidelines. Joshua shoots you an empathetic glance, having picked up on your anxiety.

“I know you hate needles and injections, y/n. But this vaccine will help to keep you safe, and allow you to go about daily life easier,” Joshua reasons. “You need to be vaccinated in order to go out and about, because there’s checks for vaccination records everywhere now”. 

“It’s kinda useless, though, isn’t it? You get the vaccine, and then you get boosters, and even after all that you can still catch Covid. It’s not like chickenpox or measles vaccines, where you’re basically immune to it after the vaccine,” you argue, still not seeing the point of the vaccine. 

“I get what you’re saying, but at least it offers a little bit of immunity, right?” Joshua suggests. He really wanted to be able to hold your hand and comfort you, seeing how scared you were. “Even if you do catch covid, you might get hit less hard at least. I’ll try to follow you in and stay with you so you’ll feel less afraid,” he promises. 

Unfortunately, because of social distancing guidelines, the nurses tell you that Joshua has to wait outside for you. Fear rises in you again at the thought of facing it alone and your heart begins pounding at the speed of a galloping horse, until Joshua suggests staying with you via video call, which the nurses agree to. “I know it’s not the same, but I’m still there with you, alright?” he reassures you as you nod weakly and follow the nurses in. 

“This is terrifying, Shua. They’re already cleaning my arm and preparing to inject,” you protest, cringing at the feeling of the nurse rubbing your arm with the alcohol. 

“It’ll be over soon, y/n. Just breathe with me, okay?” He breathes in and out in an exaggerated manner to ensure you can hear him over the call, trying to get you to copy him. “Good job. You’re doing well,” he exhorts, the loving, gentle warmness in his tone putting you at ease. Before you know it, the needle is in and the injection is given, and you’re walking out of the tent pressing down on a cotton ball plastered to your arm. 

The moment you’re home, Joshua pulls you onto the couch for a hug and presses a kiss to your forehead. “It was scary, but you did such a good job. I’m proud of you, y/n”. 

Junhui:

”Holy f-“ You almost exclaim, anxiety taking over as you catch sight of the nurse preparing the needle. Junhui claps a hand over your mouth just before the curse word slips out, hurrying to shush you and turn you away from the horrifying sight. 

”Calm down, baobei. It’s just a blood test, and it really won’t be as scary as you think,” Junhui blabbers, saying whatever he thought of to try to soothe you. 

“‘Just’ a blood test?” you question incredulously, looking at him as if he had grown four more limbs. “That’s the most terrifying thing in the world!”

”Trust me, it’s not that bad,” Junhui reiterates, hoping it would calm you down. “And besides, I think we’d both feel a lot better if we could find out what exactly is wrong with you. This blood test will help us figure that out, and get you the treatment you need,” he coaxes, rubbing up and down your arms to further quell the quivers running through you. 

“I guess you’re right. As much as I hate needles, I’d like to quickly recover from whatever I’ve been ill with and get back to normal,” you concede. “If this will help, then let’s do it”. 

Junhui squeezes your shoulders again as the nurse walks back over with the needle. “Just hold my hand, okay? I promise it’ll be over and done with in a flash”. 

As the nurse rubs your arm with the alcohol swab, you inhale and exhale, trying to steady your breaths as you ready yourself for the inevitable stab. All the while, Junhui is by your side, rubbing the back of your hand gently to try to ease your fear. But as the needle makes its entrance, you cringe slightly, feeling the prick that came with it. “Relax your arm, baobei”, Junhui reminds, having noticed you wincing. “It’ll hurt more if you tense up”. 

Following his instructions, you take a deep breath of air and relax your arm — and true enough, it didn’t hurt as badly as you had expected it to. “See? It’s almost over. As soon as the nurse takes the sample needed, it’ll be out and we can go home,” Junhui points out, grinning brightly. “You’re doing amazing, baobei”. 

Hoshi:

“Come on, y/n,” Soonyoung says with an encouraging lilt to his voice as he drags you into the waiting area of the clinic. “It’s not as bad as you think, really”.

”I thought all my vaccinations were up to date, and I’d never have to do this again,” you groan, reluctantly plonking yourself in the chair next to him. “Who would’ve thought that I’ve actually missed one booster shot”.

”At least now we know, and you can get the missed shot,” Soonyoung comments, pointing out the positive side of things. “Better now than never, right?”

”I’d rather the latter,” you deadpan, and Soonyoung gently nudges you, clicking his tongue in disapproval. “Look! I’m terrified of needles, I’m terrified of pain, and I’d rather just avoid them altogether if I could”. The words pour out of you at a mile per minute, and a shiver runs down your spine at the mere thought of the needle.

”I know, jagi. But travelling with an updated vaccine record would be much safer for both of us, and we’d be able to enjoy our trip with more peace of mind,” Soonyoung reminds you, gently squeezing your hand as a sign of reassurance and comfort. You squeeze his hand back as he goes on. “Besides, I’ll be there with you. I’ll do anything you need to make the process easier”.

”Could you distract me?” you implore, looking at him with hopeful eyes. “Just anything to take my mind off it”.

”Of course!” Soonyoung replies, puffing up his chest like a proud peacock. “Anything, you say? I can sing silly, dance crazy, make funny faces-“

”That’s true, your face is always funny to look at”.

”Hey!”

Wonwoo:

The fever had been raging in you for three days straight, with no signs of going down. You and Wonwoo had tried everything you knew — from the fever medicines you had in the fridge, to the cool fever patches Wonwoo applied and changed for you religiously, to old wives’ tales of taking shots of apple cider vinegar (which Wonwoo had warned was not going to work), only for everything to fall through. Despite you insisting that all you needed to do was to sleep in bed for a few more days and continue self-medicating, Wonwoo was not convinced and insisted on taking you to a doctor. “That’s all you’ve been doing for the last three days, and it clearly isn’t working. You need a doctor,” he asserted, marching you into the doctor’s office. 

“They’re going to be alright. I’ll prescribe them with a course of antibiotics, but because this is quite a serious bacterial infection they’ll need an antibiotic injection too,” the doctor muses, typing down notes on his computer. 

As you process his words, you turn paler than a sheet of paper, the flush from the fever completely dissipating in that instant. “Can I perhaps…just take the oral medications?” you suggest, hoping that the doctor will accede to your request. 

“It would take a lot longer, because it needs to be metabolized by your liver before being released into your bloodstream. Intravenous medication would act much faster, since it goes directly into your bloodstream to fight off infections. Right now you need something fast-acting, because leaving such a serious bacterial infection to fester could make it worse,” Wonwoo explains, hoping that it would convince you to take the injection. Next to both of you, the doctor nods in agreement with your boyfriend’s words.

You shoot a playful glare at Wonwoo. “Okay, nerd,” you fire back jokingly. “As scary as it is, I guess I’ll take it”. 

“Don’t worry. You can hold onto me throughout, okay?” Wonwoo says, taking your hand and gently rubbing circles on the back of it. “It’ll be over before you know it, and then you can go home and sleep, just like you wanted to do”. 

You nod weakly, feeling too drained by the illness to do anything else. But as soon as the doctor brings out the needle, adrenaline goes coursing through you again, and you’re back in a panicked anxious state, trying to pull away from the doctor who’s trying to administer the injection. Wonwoo notices, and he’s quickly rubbing your back and whispering sweet nothings into your ear to calm you down. “Just this last step, y/n-ah. It’s gonna be over soon,” he assures. “All you need to do now is breathe in and out slowly”.

Doing as he says, you feel nothing more than a mild pinch as the needle goes in, and the injection is done. “Good job back there, y/n,” Wonwoo praises, shooting you an encouraging smile as you walk out of the clinic with him. “You were really brave. Let’s go home, and then you can get the rest you deserve”. 

Woozi:

Your knee bounces up and down nervously as you sit on the chair in the consultation room, awaiting your dreaded fate. Beads of cold sweat appear on your forehead as you try to steel your nerves to face your biggest fear- needles. You thank your lucky stars that at least your boyfriend was off work today, so he had kindly offered to accompany you to the dreaded appointment to get a booster shot. 

Next to you, Jihoon stands in silent comfort, gently squeezing your knee to try to calm you down. “I know it’s scary, y/n. I’m scared of needles too, so I know exactly how you feel,” he murmurs, gently rubbing your back. 

“How do you do it?” you ask, turning to face him for a brief moment. “How do you cope with injections?”

”It’s been a while since I’ve had to have one. But I remember that once, a nurse taught me a simple trick to make them hurt less,” Jihoon answers, brow furrowed as he tries to recall the advice given to him. “Don’t look at it- it’ll be scarier if you do. I’ll count to three before she inserts the needle, and breathe in as it happens. After that, just keep taking slow deep breaths. Can you do that?” He fleshes out a plan to you, and feeling hopeful, you nod. “Okay good. And just keep in mind, I’m right next to you,” he adds as extra reassurance.

As agreed, he counts down for you when the nurse does the injection. “One, two, three, breathe in. Very good,” he whispers soothingly. “Now just breathe in, and out. In, and out,” he instructs, and you do as he says, surprised at how little pain you felt. ”You’re doing great, y/n”. 

“I didn’t feel much of anything,” you remark, still shocked as you make your way home with Jihoon. “That trick really helped”.

”Told you,” Jihoon replies with a smile. “If it works on me, it’ll most definitely work on anybody. 

Mingyu:

“Shh, y/n, it's gonna be okay,” Mingyu reassures, stroking your hair in an attempt to comfort you. Sitting in the chair, you take deep breaths in and out, trying to steady your rapidly beating heart. 

“I don't know why I even decided to do this, Gyu. I knew I was scared of needles, but God-knows-what possessed me to think I could push past it to donate blood,” you sigh, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice as you lean into Mingyu’s embrace. 

“That just shows how kind and brave you are,” Mingyu affirms. “I asked you multiple times if you were sure you wanted this, and you were so intent on stepping out of your comfort zone to contribute to a good cause. That's truly admirable,” he adds, beaming at you encouragingly.

“Thanks Gyu,” you reply, grateful for the reassuring presence of your boyfriend in such a scary moment. Unfortunately you catch sight of the nurse preparing the needle, causing you to flinch and turn away. 

Mingyu notices and is immediately back at attempting to comfort you. “Don’t look, y/n. It’ll just make it scarier”.

”Well too late now, isn’t it?” you remark, wincing as you feel the nurse already rubbing your arm with the rubbing alcohol. “I’ve already seen the needle”.

“Unsee it, then”, Mingyu blurts, garbling out whatever nonsensical phrases come to his mind to try to humour you, succeeding as both you and the nurse chuckle. “Hey, you survived the prick earlier for the haemoglobin test. You can do this too,” Mingyu exhorts you. “I’ll be here with you throughout. Just take deep breaths in and out”. 

You do as he instructs, inhaling and exhaling deeply as you feel the needle make its way through. “And it’s done!” Hearing Mingyu’s confident announcement, you open your eyes to find the needle in your arm connecting you to a blood bag, hooked up to an IV rack. “You did well, y/n. I’m very proud”. 

For the next 10 minutes, Mingyu stays by your side and tells you all kinds of jokes to keep you entertained, until the nurse removes the blood bag and tells you that you’re all set to go. “When we get home, have a good rest while I prepare a steak dinner for us. Eat up and replenish your iron stores,” he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he holds your hand, leading you out of the clinic. 

DK:

“Modu uril chyeodabwAaAa~” 

Seokmin’s comically out-of-tune voice rings out through the clinic, a far cry from his usual angelic vocals. His clumsy dance moves add on to the hilarity of the situation as he mimics the infamous “Boys’ Planet” performance of his group’s hit song “Hot”. Across from him, you're laughing like a hyena, a far cry from the anxious state you were in earlier. Even the nurse beside you was trying to hold in her laughter as she readied a vaccine dose.

You had a vaccination appointment for today, but because you were so deathly afraid of needles and injections, you had almost backed out of it completely. Seokmin, knowing this, volunteered to come with you to the appointment to hopefully ease your nerves and provide some comfort. “I’ll be there to entertain and distract you,” he promised. “You’ll be so amused, you won’t feel a thing”. 

“Are you sure? As embarrassing as it sounds- I’ve cried at every single injection ever since I was a kid,” you confessed, scratching your head sheepishly.

”Y/n, it’s not embarrassing,” Seokmin responded, wrapping you in a warm embrace. “Everyone has their own fears and it’s perfectly normal. Hey, I still scream at the sight of bugs!” He brought up his own fear, hoping that it would make you feel less ashamed. “Jagi-ah, don’t worry. I promise I will make this the first time you ever walk out of an injection laughing instead of crying”. 

He was right. “BaMi EoMnEuN nAt HaNeUrEuN bUlGeUnSaEk” the horrible singing and wacky dancing continues as you double over in laughter, abs burning from the exertion. Who knew you’d end up enjoying your vaccination appointment so much? You continue chortling away, thoroughly amused by the antics of your boyfriend. So much so that, you fail to notice the needle making its entrance and exit and the medication going through your veins. 

“And you’re done! Just press on the injection site for about two to three minutes,” the nurse says, interrupting Seokmin’s clown show as she secures a cotton ball over the injection site with a plaster. 

“Wait, that’s all? It’s over?” you exclaim, mouth agape in shock. 

“You’ve got a very good boyfriend. He did such an amazing job at entertaining you, you didn’t even feel a thing,” the nurse chuckles, gesturing at a beaming Seokmin. 

Linking your arm with his, you prepare to leave the clinic. “He’s the best,” you reply with a confident smile.

Minghao:

”I’ll never understand you, y/n,” Minghao splutters, looking at you incredulously. “You can stay calm after getting bitten by a wild monkey, but you freak out over a tiny needle?”

Your hiking date in the nature reserve had taken a nasty turn when a macaque, apparently after the snacks in your bag, turned aggressive and bit you in the leg. By some miraculous power you were able to stay calm, stumbling away from the situation while reassuring concerned passersby that you would be alright. Minghao’s meditation efforts from the morning must have paid off, as he too kept a cool head and called for a Grab to take you to the Accident and Emergency department of the nearest hospital. Which is how you end up sitting in a consultation room, bandage wrapped snugly around your ankle to keep the wound dressing in place, and awaiting an injection. 

“It's not tiny, have you seen the size of that thing?!” you argue, eyes going wide in fear as you point at the terrifying piece of equipment.

“It's tiny compared to the jaws of whatever beast took a bite out of you earlier!” Minghao insists as he shushes you and turns you away from the nurse who's preparing the syringe.

“Okay, but the doctor has already cleaned and dressed the wound, surely that's enough to stave off infections? Why do I still need an injection?” you question, gesturing wildly in confusion and fright. “Not even just one, multiple jabs over the next few weeks”. 

“The disinfectant will keep bacterial infections of the wound at bay, yes, but it's not enough to prevent viral infections that could have already been transmitted into your bloodstream through the bite,” Minghao explains, squeezing your arm gently to try to comfort you. “All these vaccines will do the job for you”. 

“Why can't I just take medication orally then?” you argue, still not understanding why you needed an injection of all things. 

“It’s too slow for such dangerous viral infections,” Minghao clarifies.  

You sigh, still shaking slightly in fear. “I'd rather not have the injection, if I can help it”. 

“So you think catching tetanus or rabies is a favourable alternative?” Minghao counters, an eyebrow arching upwards as he stares at you. 

“No! But like- okay, fine, guess I’ll take the injections,” you huff, slumping over dejectedly. “When’s the needle coming?”

“It's already been in and out of you, dummy. The whole time you were arguing with me, the nurse came, administered the jab, and left,” Minghao snorts. 

“Oh”. 

Seungkwan:

Sniffling, you cling to Seungkwan’s arm with one hand as you ready the other for the dreaded jab. Whether you were sniffling because of your horrible flu, or because you were sobbing in fright, you will never know. Adding on to the horrible sensation, embarrassment tinted your cheeks as you were well aware that you were bawling your eyes out even before the actual ordeal had begun, though you were not a child anymore.

“Oh no, y/n,” Seungkwan murmurs in empathy as he quickly sweeps you into a hug, stroking your hair and whispering sweet nothings to you. “You must be really scared”. 

Too afraid to say anything else, you merely nod your head in response. “Everything will be alright, okay? I know it seems like a lot, but you’ll be really proud of yourself for getting through this,” he exhorts, squeezing your shoulders gently and leaving a kiss on the top of your head. “Is there anything I can do for you? To make you feel less afraid?” He asks, sincerity in his gaze as he lowers himself to look at you. 

“Distract me. Do something, anything to make this less scary,” you sob.

”Alright then. What about I sing to you?” He suggests.

You mull over his proposition for a moment. “That could work,” you reply, still reeling from the sheer amount of cortisol running through your system.

”Alright then. Just breathe for now, okay?” Seungkwan keeps you in his hold, continuing to stroke your hair and whisper reassurances to you. 

When the dreaded moment finally arrives, Seungkwan holds your hand, singing “Candy” softly in his usual heavenly voice. As you take in the beautiful notes, you feel yourself calm down, your pulse steadying and your breathing becoming less erratic. The feel of his hand in yours makes the situation better too, knowing that you weren’t alone in your scary predicament. You squeeze his hand back in a show of appreciation to him. 

Seungkwan is still holding your hand as you exit the clinic and make your way home. “It was scary, but you sat through it. I’m so proud of you”. He encourages you, kissing you on the cheek again as he promises lots of cuddles when you get back home. 

Vernon: 

The look of horror that had crossed Vernon's face when he saw the hues of green and yellow oozing from your wounded knee was unmistakable, and before you knew it you found yourself surrounded by the smell of antiseptic and sitting in a consultation room. “We’ve been cleaning it for weeks, and it somehow looks even worse now,” Vernon explains when you ask why he had rushed you to the nearest doctor for something so seemingly trivial. “I know it seems like no big deal, but better safe than sorry”. 

The doctor grimaces as she checks your temperature and casts another worried look at the injury. “38.2. You're lucky you came, because the infection is starting to get really bad,” she says, disposing of the cover of the ear thermometer in a swift motion. “I’ll prescribe you with some medication and an antibiotic cream, but you’ll also need an injection of antibiotics”. 

Your blood runs cold at the words, and Vernon seems to notice because his hands are immediately rubbing up and down your shoulders in silent comfort. As the doctor motions to her nurse to begin preparing the apparatus, he turns you away from their direction before you can see anything. “God, I really wasn't prepared for an injection today,” you groan.

“Hey, don't worry, it’ll be over before you know it,” Vernon states matter-of-factly, hoping the certainty in his voice would help to ground you and calm you a little. “And besides, I’m here with you,” he reminds you, deep voice soothing you like hot cocoa on a stormy winter day. 

“You're right,” you reply, turning back to face him with a smile. “And like you said- better safe than sorry. I wouldn't want the infection to worsen,” you acknowledge, now feeling fully ready to accept the injection. 

Vernon says nothing, but grunts in understanding as he continues rubbing your shoulders. As the nurse approaches with the needle, you close your eyes and prepare for the jab. “Just keep breathing”, Vernon instructs, hand remaining on yours. Doing as he says, you feel nothing more than an ant’s bite and in a flash, the process is over. 

“Don't forget to apply the cream and take the medicines at home,” Vernon reminds you as you hobble out of the clinic. One of his arms is slung around your waist and the other is holding your hand as you make your way back to the car. “I will, don't worry,” you reply. “And thanks for looking out for and caring for me,” you add, gratitude filling your heart as you slip into the passenger seat. 

“Anything for you, y/n”. 

Dino:

“Y/n, please. Just this one time, you need it to get better,” Dino pleads. Fear, desperation and worry are written all over his face at once. “You really really need this surgery- or else I don't want to think about what could happen to you”. 

Weakly, you lift your head to meet his gaze, still holding on to your stomach due to the immense stabbing pain you felt there. The same pain that had caused you to collapse onto the floor, a shriek of anguish ripping from your throat just an hour earlier, and sent Dino speed dialing an ambulance and rushing you to A&E quicker than the speed of light. There, the doctor had diagnosed you with appendicitis and sent you for an emergency operation to get the aggravating organ removed. 

However, one obstacle stood in the way- your deathly fear of needles. Despite being in a tremendous amount of pain already, you couldn't handle the thought of having to get the cannula inserted. Still looking up at Dino, you shake your head ever so slightly. “I can't, Dino, I-I’m scared,” you stammer, with what little strength you have left. 

“This could save your life, y/n,” Dino reasons in a shaky voice, hoping to break through the tidal waves of fear and anxiety crashing over you in the moment with plain, simple logic. “I’ll hold your hand throughout, until you go for the surgery. And when you wake up I’ll be right here waiting for you. So please- just this once, okay? You’ll not need another jab for a really long time after”. 

With the urgency and potentially life-threatening circumstances looming over you, you take a shaky breath and slip your hand into his, seeing that the doctor was here with the needle. Closing your eyes, you accept the slight prick and realize that it was nothing, at least compared to the excruciating pain you were already in. But through all the fear, pain and anxiety, Dino’s hand never left yours, his touch grounding you and reminding you that even in such scary circumstances, everything would be okay. You open your eyes and find him looking back at you with a small smile, as if to reassure you of the same thing. “It’ll be alright, jagi. I’ll see you when you're done, and I love you”. He finishes, pressing a quick kiss to the back of your hand. You flash a quick smile at him, waving feebly as the medical team prepares to wheel you into the operating theatre. 

When you awake, you're greeted with the sight of Dino’s relieved face. “Y/n! You're done!” He exclaims as your eyelids flutter open and you sit up groggily, the effect of the anaesthesia still fresh. Noticing your apparent drowsiness, he gently pushes you back down and beckons you to rest. “It's okay. Now you should rest. Take all the time you need here, and when the doctors clear you for discharge we can go home together,” he murmurs, and you drift back to sleep with a smile, feeling his fingers gently run through your hair.

[localwebslingers]

The frown, the way Harry's shoulder's raised, the careful words...Peter wished he hadn't told Harry about it. That they were dating. Wished maybe he'd kept it to himself just a little bit longer, just until things had settled down a little more, started to feel a bit easier. Nothing felt quite as much like a raw nerve as parts of it felt like right now. He wished it twice as hard when Harry spoke, when he felt the first strain in his chest and knew, he knew the crack was threatening as his heart kept beating and struggled to keep itself together. Desperate, pleading, scared. Peter swallowed the lump in his throat and somewhere, found his voice, "He did though...that first week when he locked himself up at home and wouldn't come out. Just because it was a nicer spot didn't mean it wasn't still being locked up in a box for other people's sakes."

It wasn't in a lab, there were no cameras watching or scientists and doctors on standby to step in if needed. But it was four walls, locked away from the rest of the world and eventually, it had Peter in it. Right next to him.

"And you're wrong, you're an amazing boyfriend." he countered, "Harry you're the best thing that's ever happened to me, and I didn't fall for you because I thought you were flawless or perfect, and I knew about some of this stuff before that. What made me fall for you was seeing you work, and how incredible and brilliant you are, and how much fun it was, that is always has been, working with you. It was taking snack breaks and having serious discussions and just joking around together, or seeing you half asleep ant trying to act like I didn't just find you curled up on the couch in a school library to take a nap. And it's seeing how passionate you get about the things you care about, and seeing how much you care about those things, and other people, and those around you and-" and he's rambling, and he heard his voice crack twice, and he kind of hated that there was technically an audience for this.

Because this felt like it should be a lot more private, but Peter couldn't just sit there and say nothing either. Couldn't stand the idea of Harry thinking he felt otherwise for a second longer than he already had, "I don't want to stay away or leave you just because something hard came up, or that you're trying to get through something and keep it together, I want to be there with you to support you though it and help. If that's pulling you up when you need it, or sitting on the other side of glass and bringing you new books to read, then I want to be there for it. I like you because you're you, Harry....I love you, every risky idea and hyperfocus and terrible pun and instinct you have in you, because you're you.

"And I'm sorry-" his voice cracked again, Peter was sure his eyes were trying to water but was trying very hard to ignore it, "...and I'm sorry that I'm not calm for you right now, but you're amazing, Harry. I know you might not believe me, but you are. You're incredible, and not even you get to try and tell me that you're not. So if you don't want to be together, then okay...then we won't be. But you can't tell me it's because you're a bad boyfriend, even right now, because I don't want to leave just because it's hard right now, I want to stay. I want to be here. I'm not expecting you to wake up tomorrow and remember what it was like, or stuff we've done, and I'm not going to stop coming to see you if you mean it either. But if you do mean it, then you need to tell me a better reason than that because I'm not going to buy it. Not for a second."

|| @inhcritance ||

He could see the fondness in that smile, he knew it, he'd seen a thousand little times and treasured every single one of those. And he couldn't remember them, not when he tried to pull on those threads all he could find the barest traces of memories. Familiar smells, and familiar sounds, and a heartbeat that was even more familiar than his own because Harry didn't subconsciously notice his own but Peter's? He had been used to it.

It was still all he could do to remain steady, never fully relaxed because how could he be, when he was so dangerous to someone he'd certainly and clearly card about, but nevertheless he listened. And in those words, he found some hope. Enough to raise one eyebrow at the mention of being grouchy these days, because that was certainly the understatement of the century, but... knowing he hadn't hurt him, knowing he hadn't even tried, was a relief.

Once again he considered offering Peter to come in. Offering or asking. He still knew better than that.

He also knew better, or should have, he thought, than to expect anything -anything at all- to be easy. Because, apparently, they'd been dating. Were, perhaps, and Harry's frown became thunderous as he considered it, before he sighed. Before he forced himself not to look away, and he could see and could hear what might be -was mostly sure was- discomfort and hurt and it... it pained him.

A part of Harry also remembered caution. He'd never been trusting. He knew he'd dated, for some time. He couldn't recall much, of those days, but he knew they had happened before. Before the shift in everything, before the sharp desperation he could still taste, if he focused hard enough.

He also knew that Peter had been the first person, ever since he'd opened his eyes, that had felt like comfort. That had been sharply familiar in an unapologetically soothing way, unlike virtually everyone else.

Harry didn't remember the taste of his lips. He didn't remember anything that could confirm something some of his memories could imply, when seen through those lenses.

He didn't miss that Peter's statement about being tougher than he looked did mix rather interestingly with the little things he'd noticed, with the oddity of his heartbeat, with the memories he had.

But he also didn't miss that it all looked like he was dating someone considerate, and resourceful, and frankly attractive. Maybe even honest. And meanwhile he was there, trapped in a box in a lab because a human being would make him hurt with the desire to harm.

He knew he was going to regret what he was about to say. He knew it was the right thing to do. He also hated meeting hope with pain. And yet...

"I don't think 'just Harry' needed to stay here for the safety of everyone else." He told Peter, and he couldn't help the way his shoulders hunched. The way it took all in his power to remain almost steady. But he didn't look away. "I don't think I can be much of a great boyfriend, while I'm like this."

And Peter did deserve better.

@localwebslingers

[dresshistorynerd]

I've seen a post you've reblogged and added to, among many things about women showing nipples. Can you recommend any ref material (articles, videos, etc.) are share your knowledge about this? Cause I'm curious about that, as nowadays going out in a shirt without a bra makes you indecent, while in like 90s it was okayish? I wonder how it was in previous centuries.

There is a really cool academic paper about bare breast dresses in 17th century England specifically. I think anyone can read it by creating a free account.

Abby Cox also has a good video about the cleavage during the past 500 years in which she goes through also the nip slip phenomena.

I don't have other sources that specifically focus on this subject, though many sources about specific decades touch on it, but I do have my primary source image collection, so I can sum up the history of the bare nipple.

So my findings from primary source images (I could be wrong and maybe I just haven't found earlier examples) is that the Venetians were the first ones to show the nipple for courtly fashion. At the same time in other places in Europe they sported the early Elizabethan no-boob style that completely covered and flattened the chest. In the other corners of Italy the necklines were also low but less extreme. Venetian kirtle necklines dropped extremely low as early as 1560s and they combined extremely sheer, basically see-through partlets with their kirtle. First example below is a 1565-70 portrait of a Venetian lady with the nipples just barely covered waiting slip into view with a movement of arm. There was an even more extreme version of this with the kirtle being literally underboob style, still with a sheer doublet. Though I believe this was not quite for the respectable ladies, since I have only seen it depicted on high class courtesans. They were not exactly respectable ladies, but they did have quite good social position. The second example is a 1570s depiction of a courtesan, which is revealed by the horned hairstyle. By the end of the century this underbust style with only see through fabric covering breasts, had become respectable. In the last example it's shown on the wife of the Venetian doge in 1597.

Around the same time, at the very end of 1500s, the extremely low cut bodice fashion enters rest of Europe. The low cut style was present in the bodices of all classes, but the nipple was really only an aristocrat thing. The lower classes would cover their breasts with a partlet, that was not sheer. Bare breast was ironically from our perspective a show of innocence, youthful beauty and virtue, and to pull off the style with respect, you also had to embody those ideals. Lower class women were considered inherently vulgar and lacking virtue, so a nipple in their case was seen as indecent. Bare boobs were also a sort of status symbol, since the upper class would hire wet nurses to breastfeed their children so they could show of their youthful boobs.

Covering partlets and bodices were still also used in the first decade of 1600s by nobles and the nip slip was mostly reserved for the courtly events. The first image below is an early example of English extremely low neckline that certainly couldn't contain boobs even with a bit of movement from 1597. The 1610s started around 5 decades of fashion that showed the whole boob. The first three were the most extreme. Here's some highlights: The second image is from 1619.

Here the first, very much showing nipples, from c. 1630. The second from 1632.

The neckline would slowly and slightly rise during the next decades, but nip slips were still expected. Here's an example from 1649 and then from 1650-55. In 1660s the neckline would get still slightly higher and by 1870s it was in a not very slippable hight. The necklines would stay low for the next century, though mostly not in boob showing territory, but we'll get there. But I will say that covering the neckline in casual context was expected. Boobs were mostly for fancy occasions. It was considered vain to show off your boobs when the occasion didn't call for it and covering up during the day was necessary for a respectable lady. You wouldn't want to have tan in your milk-white skin like a poor, and also they didn't have sun screen so burning was a reasonable concern.

1720s to 1740s saw necklines that went to the nip slip territory, though they didn't go quite as low as 100 years earlier. The nipple was present in the French courtly fashion especially and rouging your nipples to enhance them was popular. Émilie Du Châtelet (1706-1749), who was an accomplished physicist and made contributions to Newtonian mechanics, was known in the French court to show off her boobies. An icon. Here she is in 1748. Here's another example from this era from 1728.

The Rococo neckline never got high, but in the middle of the century it was less low till 1770s when it plunged into new lows. In 1770s the fashion reached a saturation point, when everything was the most. This included boobs. The most boob visible. There was a change in the attitudes though. The visible boob was not a scandal, but it was risque, instead of sing of innocent and did cause offense in certain circles. I think it's because of the French revolution values gaining momentum. I talked about this in length in another post, mostly in context of masculinity, but till that point femininity and masculinity had been mostly reserved for the aristocracy. Gender performance was mostly performance of wealth. The revolutionaries constructed new masculinity and femininity, which laid the groundwork for the modern gender, in opposition to the aristocracy and their decadence. The new femininity was decent, moral and motherly, an early version of the Victorian angel of the house. The boob was present in the revolutionary imagery, but in an abstract presentation. I can't say for sure, but I think bare breasts became indecent because it was specifically fashion of the indecent French aristocracy.

Here's example somewhere from the decade and another from 1778. The neckline stayed quite low for the 1780s, but rose to cover the boobs for the 1790s.

The nipple didn't stay hidden for long but made a quick comeback in the Regency evening fashion. It was somewhat scandalous by this point, and the nipple and sheer fabrics of the Regency fashion gained much scorn and satire. The styles that were in the high danger nip slip territory and those that allowed the nipple to show through fabric, were still quite popular. The sleeves had been mid length for two centuries, but in 1790s they had made a split between evening and day wear. The evening sleeves were tiny, just covering the shoulder. Showing that would have been a little too much. Like a bare boob? A risque choice but fine. A shoulder? Straight to the horny jail. (I'm joking they did have sheer sleeves and sometimes portraits with exposed shoulder.) But long sleeves became the standard part of the day wear. Getting sun was still not acceptable for the same reasonable and unreasonable reasons. Day dresses did also usually have higher necklines or were at least worn with a chemisette to cover the neckline. Fine Indian muslin was a huge trend. It was extremely sheer and used in multiple layers to build up some cover. There were claims that a gust of wind would render the ladies practically naked, though because they were wearing their underclothing including a shift, which certainly wasn't made from the very expensive muslin, I'm guessing this was an exaggeration. Especially though in the first decade, short underboob stays were fairly popular, so combined with a muslin, nipples were seen. Here's an early 1798 example of exactly that. The short stays did disappear eventually, but in 1810s the extremely small bodices did provide nip slip opportunities, as seen in this 1811 fashion plate.

Victorian moralizing did fully kill the nip slip, though at least they were gender neutral about it. The male nipple was just as offensive to them. In 1890s, when bodybuilding became a big thing, bodybuilder men were arrested for public indecency for not wearing a shirt.

[prolibytherium]

I never touched it but I feel like i only ever hear positive things said about song of achilles.. in (rough strokes at least) what makes it dogshit to you?

Okay it's been a while since I actually read it so some of this might not be spot on accurate. Sorry if at any point I say 'the book never does xyz' and it actually does once or twice but I think my underlying criticisms are accurate

-Patroclus is made into like this soft gentle tender quivering little yaoi boy. In the source text, he's shown as compassionate and moved by the suffering of his own men (and apparently having some medical skill, tending to the wounded in the camp), but very much invested n combat and very, very good at it (pages worth of descriptions of the guys he's killing left and right). In this, the arguably more complex character from this 8th century BC text is flattened into Being A Healer, he doesn't want to go to war he just wants to help people, he only goes because Achilles has to but he doesn't want to fight he's a HEALER he's a gentle lover NOT A FIGHTER who just wants to help he just wants to help everyone around him he HEALS while Achilles is a doomed warrior who is so good at fighting and KILLING its a DICHOTOMY GUYS!!!LIKE THE BEAUTIFUL SUN AND MOON DOOMED LOVERS SO SAD patocluse HEALER . (I Think he's specifically characterized as being BAD at fighting but might be misremembering)

-I don't remember much about Achilles' characterization I think it just makes him less of a jackass while not adding anything of interest and levels out into being mad boring.

-Not getting into the literal millenias old debate whether the mythological characters Achilles and Patroclus were being characterized as some type of lover by the original oral sources of the Iliad or its Homeric writers. We will never know. We don't even know what (if any) culturally accepted conventions of male homosexuality existed in bronze age Greece (we know much more about their descendants). But there are some interesting elements of their characterization in this direction, with how unconventional their relationship is WITHIN the text itself- Patroclus is described as cooking for Achilles and his guests (very specifically a woman/wife's job), Achilles chides Patroclus like a father, but there's also scene where Achilles' mourning of him directly echoes a passage of Hector's wife mourning her husband, Patroclus is explicitly stated to Achilles' elder, and is overall treated as his equal or near-equal, closest confidant and most beloved friend (to the point that pederastic classical Greeks would debate over who was erastes (older authority figure lover) and who was eromenos (adolescent 'beloved')- many took it as a given that this text depicted their present-day cultural norms of homosexual behavior but it existed so Outside of these norms that it had to be debated who was who). Their relationship is non-standard both within the text and to the descendants of the civilization that wrote them.

Basically what I'm saying is this book had opportunities to like, explore the unconventionality of the relationship (being presented here as explicitly lovers), explore the dynamics of why Patroclus wants to do 'women's work' (besides being a tenderhearted softboy), the weird dynamics where they take on paternal roles to each other but also roles of wives, how they feel about being this way, and just kind of Doesn't. Which I guess isn't an intrinsic fault (because it omits much of what I just talked about to begin with). it's just like.... Lame. This book takes jsut abandons everything interesting about the source text in favor of flattening it into bland Doomed Yaoi.

-The conflict that sets off the core story of the Iliad is Achilles and Agamemnon fighting over Briseis, an enslaved Trojan woman taken by Achilles as a war-trophy, Achilles spends most of the story moping because he was dishonored by his 'trophy' being taken. Achilles and Patroclus and everyone else are raping their captives, all the women in the story are either captured Trojans (or in the case of the free women within the walls of Troy, soon to be enslaved, and are slave owners themselves). Slavery as an institution and extreme patriarchal conventions are innate to the text and reflective of the context in which it was developed. You cannot avoid it.

But obviously you can't have your soft yaoi boys doing this, so the author has them capturing women to Protect Them from the other men. Their slaves are UNDER THEIR PROTECTION and VERY SAFE (and they might even Like And Befriend Them but I might be misremembering that. Briseis does though). Our heroes have apparently absorbed none of the ideals of the culture they exist in and the author seems to think "they're gay and aren't sexually attracted to their captives" would translate to them being outright benevolent (also as if wartime sexual violence is just about attraction and not part of a wider spectrum of violent acts to dehumanize and brutalize an accepted 'enemy')

In the source text, Briseis mourns Patroclus as being the kindest to her of her captors, who tried to get her a slightly better outcome by getting her married to Achilles (which probably would be the Least Bad of all possible outcomes for a woman in that situation, becoming a legal wife instead of a slave), and wonders what will happen to her now that he's gone. This is a really really sad, horrible, and compelling dynamic which could be fleshed out in very interesting ways but is instead is tossed entirely aside in favor of them being Besties. Like brother and sister.

All of the above pisses me off so much. If you don't want to engage in the icky parts of ancient/bronze age Greece then don't write a retelling of a story taking place in bronze age Greece. I'm not gonna get mad at children's adaptations of Greek myths or silly fun stories loosely based on them for omitting the rape and slavery but it is SO fundamental to the Iliad. If you're not willing to handle it, either fully omit it or better yet set your Iliad inspired yaoi in an invented swords-and-sandals setting where you can have all your heartbreaking tragic doomed lovers plot beats and not have to clumsily write around the women they're brutalizing.

-The author didn't seem to know what to do with Thetis and she made her just like, Achilles bitch mother who spends most of the story trying to separate our Yaoi Boys (iirc her disguising Achilles as a girl and hiding him on Scyros is made to be more about getting him away from Patroclus than trying to save her son from his prophesied doom in the Trojan War) until she sees how much they loooove each other and I think helps Patroclus' spirit get to the afterlife or something in the end?

-This is more of a personal taste gripe but it has that writing style I loathe where the prose feels less like a story and more like an attempt to string together Deep Beautiful Hard Hitting Poetic Lines that will look great as excerpts on booktok (might predate booktok but same vibe). It's all very Pretty and Haunting and Deep but feels devoid of real substance.

I really like The Iliad and The Odyssey in of themselves. They're fascinating historical texts that give a window into how 8th century BC Greeks told their stories, saw their world, interpreted their ancestors, etc. And genuinely I think these texts have 'good' characters, there's a lot of complexity and humanity to it.

WRT the Iliad- all of the main Achaeans are pretty fascinating, the one singular part where Briseis Gets To Talk and laments her situation is great, Achilles fantasizing that all of the Trojans AND the Achaeans die so he and Patroclus alone can have the glory of conquering Troy (wild), Achilles asking to embrace Patroclus' shade and reaching out for him but it's immaterial (and the shade being sucked back underground with a 'squeak' (the squeak kinda gets me it's disturbing and sad)), Hecuba talking about wanting to tear out Achilles' liver and eat it in a (taboo, exceptioally pointed) expression of rage and grief for his mutilation of her son's corpse, just one tiny line where the enslaved women performing ritual wailing for their dead captors are described as using it as an outlet to 'grieve for their own troubles' is heartrending, etc. A lot of grappling with anger and grief and the inevitability of death, a lot of groundwork laid for characters that could be very interesting when expanded upon in the framework of a conventional novel.

And Song Of Achilles really doesn't do much with all that. I know a lot of my gripes here are kind of just "It's different from the Iliad", I would have thought of it as mostly mediocre and forgettable rather than infuriating if it wasn't a retelling (and I DEFINITELY have strong biases here). But I think the ways in which it is different are less just a product of a retelling (of course there's going to be omissions and differences) and more a complete and utter disinterest in vast majority of its own subject matter, to the book's detriment. I think a retelling has a point when it EXPANDS on the source, or provides a NEW ANGLE to the source. This book doesn't Really do either, it just shaves off the complexity of its source material, renders the characters into a really boring archetype of a gay relationship, and gives very little else. Its content boils down to a middling tragic romance that has been inserted into the hollowed out defleshed skeleton of the Iliad.

Bottom line: I definitely would not be as mad about it if I wasn't familiar with the source material but I think it's fair to expect a retelling to Engage with/expand on its source, and I also think it's weak purely on its own merits. This book was set up to disappoint Me specifically.

[madegeeky]

Hannibal (the TV series) seasons in one sentence:

Season 1: The least amount of police procedural you will ever see in a police procedural.

Season 2: Reins are off now, fuckers, let's do some goddamn character work!

Season 3: Wherein the first half is Hannibal writing fanfiction and the second half has completely new main characters.

[causenessus]

i’m thinking about the way that they both tried to push each other away but they’re meant to be. and they kept coming into each other’s lives. what bon iver meant when they said “i have buried you in every place i’ve been / you keep ending up in my shaking hands.” (a song for a lover of long time ago). also made me think of the quote “you want to watch the world burn?” “let me guess, you’ll set it on fire?” “no, i’ll hand you the match and stand at your back.” definitely such a power couple kind of like calloused hands yn and kuroo but let me word it this way: they both look like they could kill you and could but iwaizumi won’t because he’ll watch you get beat to a pulp by y/n. and he’ll just be watching y/n the entire time like “damn, i love her.” when they get married and they say their vows, he says “‘til death do us part and even after” and he MEANS it. take one good look at iwaizumi hajime and tell me he wouldn’t tear the world in two with his bare hands for y/n. and i just know they have the best midnight dates. sometimes they're out making late convenience runs saying "i shouldn't eat this." "fuck that." and sometimes they're in their kitchen together, making pancakes at 1 am.

BRUISED-H. IWAIZUMI SMAU

as a professional boxer, yn is used to shaking off bruises. it helps that iwaizumi’s always been there to take care of her.

main masterlist

status: completed

tags: iwaizumi x f!reader, childhood friends to lovers, roommates to lovers, mutual pining, misunderstanding

warnings: language, alcohol use, violence/blood, adult themes, angst, flawed characters, anger issues, depression, injuries, will be an excessive amount of written chapters, grammatical mistakes probably, everyone probably will be out of character, please note warnings may change as story progresses, and to check each chapter for individual warnings

playlist to accompany ur reading

minors dni & other rules

bonus: yn style guide | iwa style guide

introductions: yn’s gc | iwaizumi’s gc | roommates gc

teaser!

part one: rest in peace, kageyama

part two: context clues

part three: "argentina"

part four: not slutty enough

part five: my person [✐]

->bonus! six years back [✐]

part six: making room

part seven: the healing power of shit talking [✐]

part eight: another, unknown yn

part nine: in crisis

part ten: a test

->bonus! seven years back [✐]

part eleven: pissing contest [✐]

part twelve: rock bottom

part thirteen: lonely [✐]

part fourteen: i love brazil!

part fifteen: he's here

part sixteen: oikawa what is this behavior

part seventeen: dumbasses

part eighteen: three time [✐]

part nineteen: four years later [✐]

[hatikarat]

We tend to think of violence as the most naked expression of power but--of course!--at its purest, power is fundamentally arbitrary. It obliges you to confront the absurdity of your existence. Violence is just another way of doing that.

-- Michael Chabon, Giant in a Cage

[girlivealwaysbean]

i hate being bitter and resentful and holding onto grudges but my god!!!!!!!!!!!! i see people going to college and becoming these cool confident versions of themselves and im like fuck u dad

[tenrose]

I started Neuromancer but currently I absolutely have not the brain capacity for it, so I've decided to switch cyberpunk technical vocabulary for a 1k pages political fantasy book. I need to rest my brain you see.

[jewishcissiekj]

oH?

[wordstome]

how c.ai works and why it's unethical

Okay, since the AI discourse is happening again, I want to make this very clear, because a few weeks ago I had to explain to a (well meaning) person in the community how AI works. I'm going to be addressing people who are maybe younger or aren't familiar with the latest type of "AI", not people who purposely devalue the work of creatives and/or are shills.

The name "Artificial Intelligence" is a bit misleading when it comes to things like AI chatbots. When you think of AI, you think of a robot, and you might think that by making a chatbot you're simply programming a robot to talk about something you want them to talk about, and it's similar to an rp partner. But with current technology, that's not how AI works. For a breakdown on how AI is programmed, CGP grey made a great video about this several years ago (he updated the title and thumbnail recently)

I HIGHLY HIGHLY recommend you watch this because CGP Grey is good at explaining, but the tl;dr for this post is this: bots are made with a metric shit-ton of data. In C.AI's case, the data is writing. Stolen writing, usually scraped fanfiction.

How do we know chatbots are stealing from fanfiction writers? It knows what omegaverse is [SOURCE] (it's a Wired article, put it in incognito mode if it won't let you read it), and when a Reddit user asked a chatbot to write a story about "Steve", it automatically wrote about characters named "Bucky" and "Tony" [SOURCE].

I also said this in the tags of a previous reblog, but when you're talking to C.AI bots, it's also taking your writing and using it in its algorithm: which seems fine until you realize 1. They're using your work uncredited 2. It's not staying private, they're using your work to make their service better, a service they're trying to make money off of.

"But Bucca," you might say. "Human writers work like that too. We read books and other fanfictions and that's how we come up with material for roleplay or fanfiction."

Well, what's the difference between plagiarism and original writing? The answer is that plagiarism is taking what someone else has made and simply editing it or mixing it up to look original. You didn't do any thinking yourself. C.AI doesn't "think" because it's not a brain, it takes all the fanfiction it was taught on, mixes it up with whatever topic you've given it, and generates a response like in old-timey mysteries where somebody cuts a bunch of letters out of magazines and pastes them together to write a letter.

(And might I remind you, people can't monetize their fanfiction the way C.AI is trying to monetize itself. Authors are very lax about fanfiction nowadays: we've come a long way since the Anne Rice days of terror. But this issue is cropping back up again with BookTok complaining that they can't pay someone else for bound copies of fanfiction. Don't do that either.)

Bottom line, here are the problems with using things like C.AI:

It is using material it doesn't have permission to use and doesn't credit anybody. Not only is it ethically wrong, but AI is already beginning to contend with copyright issues.

C.AI sucks at its job anyway. It's not good at basic story structure like building tension, and can't even remember things you've told it. I've also seen many instances of bots saying triggering or disgusting things that deeply upset the user. You don't get that with properly trigger tagged fanworks.

Your work and your time put into the app can be taken away from you at any moment and used to make money for someone else. I can't tell you how many times I've seen people who use AI panic about accidentally deleting a bot that they spent hours conversing with. Your time and effort is so much more stable and well-preserved if you wrote a fanfiction or roleplayed with someone and saved the chatlogs. The company that owns and runs C.AI can not only use whatever you've written as they see fit, they can take your shit away on a whim, either on purpose or by accident due to the nature of the Internet.

DON'T USE C.AI, OR AT THE VERY BARE MINIMUM DO NOT DO THE AI'S WORK FOR IT BY STEALING OTHER PEOPLES' WORK TO PUT INTO IT. Writing fanfiction is a communal labor of love. We share it with each other for free for the love of the original work and ideas we share. Not only can AI not replicate this, but it shouldn't.

(also, this goes without saying, but this entire post also applies to ai art)

[always-just-red]

Hii! I've seen some Pregnancy scenario with LaD's men, but I have this HC-- personally for Sylus. That when fem!reader got pregnant, he didn't really understand how the Pregnancy hormones work, until he experienced one and he got confused how he should act or react because it's feels like he's walking on landime, one wrong move/word, she'd throwing tantrum or being sulky at him

I've heard from my Friend who got pregnant before, when she craving something and her Husband showing any form that he can't fulfill what she's craves, she felt her heart broken, and she'd sulk and acted as if he just cheated on her. The problem is, she always craved something that didn't even exist at that moment😂, she's craving certain type of Mango while it's not even that Mango season, so nobody selling it. He literally being desperate to negotiate with her cravings

So... Can I request a scenario smiliar like that? It doesn't have to be mango, or any foods. Just... how Pregnancy hormones or Cravings could make Sylus got frustated lol

Aaaaa anon this is adorable, thank you! We love making Sylus suffer in cute and harmless ways. He's always asking for trouble, so let's give him some! 😌💅

Something Sweet

Sylus x Reader 🩸

Summary: Sylus knows how to get what he wants. Getting what you want might be a little more tricky...

Genre: fluff!

Warnings/Additional tags: female!reader, IMPLIED pregnant!reader (pregnancy not actually mentioned or described- just hormones being hormones ✌), established relationship, canon pet names, a lil bit of roleplay because Sylus refuses to leave his Mystic Adventure era

| Word count: 2.1k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

“Sy, d’you know what I’m craving right now?”

“Always, sweetie.” Sylus doesn’t look up from his book. “Not now, though. I’m tired.”

Morning sunlight streams through the gaps in your living room curtains, casting pale yellow shapes over the floor. A shard of it has been inching over the sofa towards Sylus, the sharp edge now grazing the side of his face. He shifts, ever so slightly, away from its touch. His eyes are open but heavy.

“No,” you scold, leaning forwards to swat at him with your book. “That’s not what I meant, you narcissist.”

He chuckles with his usual low timbre— his gaze still not lifting— and the sound is deeper for how close he is to sleep. He wants to give in to it, you can tell. When he turns a page, the movement is languid, soft. You’re losing him.

“Sy,” you say again, then with more of a whine: “Sylus.”

His eyes flutter closed as he draws in a deep breath. His hand raises, his fingers stretching to pull his reading glasses from his face. They’re set down on the arm of the chair beside him, along with the book, and he turns to you with a smile. “What are you craving, sweetie?”

You rest your book on your stomach. Your legs are stretched out over Sylus’s lap, and his hand finds one of your feet, massaging an ache from it as you begin your speech. “Do you remember that café we used to go to? The one we found when it started raining in the park that day? We didn’t think it was open, but then the owner knocked on the window and said we could—”

“Yeah?” His hand moves to your other foot.

“Well, they make these—”

“Macarons.”

“You remember?”

His smile widens like he remembers vividly. “Kitten, how could I forget? I’m still jealous of that sweet little treat. You’ve never made that face for me, and believe me—” he wiggles one of your toes— “I’ve tried.”

That had been one of the only times you’d truly caught him off-guard, back when your feelings for one another were unnamed and uncharted. The rain had been drumming against the café window, and you’d heaved Sylus’s damp coat from your shoulders— giggled at the raised eyebrow and the sarcastic ‘…thanks’ he’d given in turn. One hot drink later, you were lifting a pastel pink macaron to your lips, taking a delicate bite and failing to stifle a tiny, almost euphoric moan.

You remember realising yourself: blushing profusely and expecting some remark, some ridicule, but none ever came. Sylus’s eyes were wide, dark, fixed upon your still parted mouth.

After a few of the longest seconds of your life, he’d dragged the plate with the rest of the macarons away from you and muttered something about how you had better not do that again.

“They’re still the sweetest things I’ve ever tasted,” you tease now, just as you’d wrestled him for that plate back then, set on eating every last macaron.

He makes a hmph as he idly runs a finger over the part of your foot he knows is ticklish. His expression is distinctly grumpy, but it falters as you laugh and try to writhe away from him.

You’re quickly out of breath. “Sylus?”

“Mmm?”

He glances up at you and you smile sweetly, head tilting. “Please?”

His coat on a rainy day. The entire plate of macarons in the end; he’s never been very good at denying you anything. For the first time since you’d stirred him from his book, however, he appears genuinely regretful. “You’re forgetting something, sweetie,” he murmurs gently. “Why did we stop going to that café, hmm?”

You shrug.

“It closed, kitten,” he sighs. “Months ago.”

“What?”

Not only did you already know that— you actually visited the café on its final day. The owner was telling you stories: he was moving somewhere warmer, closer to family, and he needed all the funds he could get. Sylus had snuck an obscene amount of money into the man’s tip jar whilst you acted as a distraction. You both had fond memories of that place; it was nice to make one more.   

It's all coming back to you and you’re struck by a wave of nostalgia. You want to go back there. You can’t go back there. It doesn’t exist anymore, and you’ll never taste sweetness like that again.

Your mouth has gone dry.

“Sweetie?” Sylus prompts, because he notices you’re far away. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” your voice wobbles, “I just really wanted… I mean, I really needed one of those—”

“… Macarons?” he finishes for you.

You burst into tears, and one day, you’ll tally this as another time you took the man by surprise. His face drops instantly— lost, for a moment— before he slides your legs from his lap, allowing him to lean closer. “No, no, no,” he coos, “don’t cry, kitten, please. I didn’t mean to… well, I didn’t realise…”

He doesn’t know what to say, and he always knows what to say. He set you off with a single word and now he’s stuttering like sentences are all possible landmines. He tries his luck again, putting a foot forward: “Listen to me. I’ll go to the store. Would that be alright? Or perhaps there’s another café that could—”

You explode: sobbing even more viscerally. Your whole body shakes with it.

Sylus has frozen. He watches on helplessly as you cry, blabbering about the macarons you can’t have and the café you can’t return to. Across the room, even Mephisto has hunched down on his perch, though he issues a few, spirited squawks, maybe in solidarity with your breakdown, or maybe in protest of it.

It’s like a catalyst. You cry more: burying your face in your hands because what the hell is wrong with you? It’s not a big deal. It’s not a big deal, so why do you feel sick? And then there’s Sylus— your Sylus, devoted and adoring— and here you are, punishing him for something beyond his control.

You look up from your hands, desperate to apologise, but he’s gone. More shards of sunlight paint his empty seat and catch all that’s left of him: a few crow feathers, glistening like onyx. Mephisto is gone too, and the room is quiet, save for you snivelling and feeling sorry for yourself.

“Sylus?” you call out into the empty morning.

It isn’t his fault, not really. You wouldn’t want to be around you, either.

…

Something brushes over your cheek, and your tired eyes open.

The sun has ebbed back behind the curtains and the ceiling light has taken its place, casting artificial highlights over everything in reach: the coffee table, the closed-up flowers at its centre and a mug of tea that’s gone cold. Sylus is in front of you too, backlit and soft like a daydream, and he—

He left you.

“Sy?” you whisper warily, because the context is coming back to you slowly, piece by piece.

“Hey,” he coaxes, voice as honeyed as whatever’s turned the air sweet.

You blink, rubbing sleep from your eyes and relishing the warmth of his hand on your face. Then you slap his shoulder. “Hey, really? That’s all you’ve got— hey?”

He’s kneeling for you— on the floor, beside the couch— so you can meet his eyes. He settles his chin thoughtfully on the edge of the seat, his nose almost touching yours. “What would you prefer, sweetie?” His lips are close to yours too. “Good evening, my beloved? Greetings, my queen?”

“How about sorry?” you snap, because he isn’t cute and he isn’t charming.

He pouts. “Why sorry?”

“Because you left, Sylus!” You sit up straighter, and your phone tumbles out of your lap. Its screen is still lit-up from a few hours ago, showcasing a very one-sided conversation and a rant you never actually sent, because it’s still in the text box.

You vaguely recall writing it, so you try to snatch the phone from Sylus’s hand as he plucks it from the floor. He’s more alert than you. More co-ordinated. He keeps it out of your grasp as he reads the unsent message, an eyebrow raising.

It was a lot of things— colourful, creative— not entirely tasteful. “My, my, your highness,” he tuts, “so this is the treatment your valiant knight receives for undertaking your quest?”

“You’re not valiant,” you rebuke, and you manage to wrestle your phone from him. “You’re—”

“A heartless prick,” he finishes casually, quoting your message with a chuckle. He takes your free hand and kisses the back of it, refusing to let you pull away. “And whose fault is that, I wonder?”

“You can have your heart back.”

“Nope. You’re stuck with it, sweetie. With me, too. Now—” he sits back on his knees— “would you please ask me about my quest?”

The analogy is lost on you. You sit fully up, looking down at him. “What quest, oh valiant knight?”

His lips form a smirk; he just loves when you play along. “Close your eyes.”

You do— whether you’re queen or not. You hear him shifting aside, and then there’s a snap of his fingers. The air changes, warping like thick, liquid smoke, and you know he’s using his Evol. “Open,” he commands.

And there on the coffee table, freshly teleported, is a plate of macarons the colour of cherry blossoms. As if anticipating the comparison, Sylus pulls a handful of pink petals from his pocket and blows them up into the air so they can spiral down on the scene. He watches them. Then you. “Ta-da,” he proclaims, his tone dry but full of humour.

You’re prone to hyperbole nowadays, but this is without a doubt the best thing you have ever seen.

“Sylus,” you gasp in disbelief, “how did you—”

“It doesn’t matter,” he says; the story isn’t for today, and he’s very, very tired. A few weeks from now he’ll tell you about how he tracked down the contact information of the owner of the old café. How he spent an hour on the phone bargaining for a certain macaron recipe, and several more hours in the kitchen, trying to get them perfect. “Now, they might not be exactly the same, sweetie. But I did try to—”

You surge forwards, capturing his lips in a kiss. It’s so impulsive— so reckless— that you almost tumble down from the couch, but he catches you, steadies you, and your hand is gripping the soft of his hair as he kisses you back. Slowly, his mouth not leaving yours, he lifts you back into your seat.

“Easy, sweetie.” His voice is low as he pulls away, and though he turns his face from you, you can make out the blush on his cheeks. He settles back into his kneeling position on the floor. “I have one more surprise for you. Do try to control yourself.”

He retrieves a small, complete flower from his pocket, albeit one a little dreary from its journey. Sylus smiles triumphantly as he holds it out to you, and he was right; you do want to throw yourself at him. Instead, you take the flower and lean forwards, tucking it behind his ear before he can protest. He’d tilted closer to help you, and he sits back with an exasperated tsk when you’re done.

“It suits you,” you grin.

He yawns. “Everything does.”

You don’t want to get into trouble, so you shimmy to the very edge of your seat and carefully— showing tremendous restraint— reach out to take his face in your hands. “You’re amazing, Sy. Thank you for doing all of this for me, but…”

“But…?”

“I missed you. I like macarons, yeah,” you smile, “but I’d much rather have you.”

This time, he can’t hide his face and the way it goes pink, like the blossom behind his ear. His cheeks are warm beneath your palms. “You couldn’t have said that before I spent the whole day—”

His voice is strangled as you keel towards him— slow and deliberate— to thread your arms around him and pull him into a hug. He tenses for a moment, then wraps his arms around you too: holding you tightly, keeping you from falling any further. You can feel his hand stroking your back and he hums as you give him a gentle squeeze.

“Such a lovely moment, kitten,” he muses, your head on his shoulder. “I do hope it’s sincere, and not— say— an excuse for someone to get her paws on the macarons behind me.”

There’s another moment of quiet.

“Don’t be silly, Sy,” you retort, but your mouth is full, your cheeks are stuffed, and not a single word of it is intelligible.

[greatw0r]

HERE FOR YOU sevika x female reader

Summary: Sevika and you never talked about how much you really cared for each other, but apparently one night after a misunderstanding was enough. And she showed you how deeply she did care - it's all she ever did.

content warnings : violence, blood, lesbians being dumb, fluff

. . . 🃜🃚🃖

It was weird, honestly. sevika was a scary woman. no one would dare to even cross her way and who did - would not be alright to tell after.

But then, there was you, out of the sudden, walking by her side on the streets of zaun. Sometimes, you would be talking her ear off or just enjoy her presence quietly. you were there at the bar with her, watching her gamble, with a drink on your hand enjoying her playing and winning.

People had gossiped that you were just a girl she visited, and you got attached to .. poor delusional thing. but you were far from it - meeting sevika by working for vander just like her.

You were attracted to her, who wouldn't? a big scary and hot woman was in front of you, giving you small smirks every time you looked at her way.

Sevika didn't want to admit but she did enjoy your presence, she enjoyed your daily talks, working with you, arguing "playfully", hearing about your favorite books or new things you had just found out ....she was whipped.

And it was not until one night that she completely understood how much she would do for you... and how much you didn't realize it.

You were there, standing close to her while she gambled with two other men.

You started talking about one of the million things you enjoyed and she was used to , but not the man in front of her who only looked at you with a miserable look on his eyes.

" Can the girl shut up for a second ? " he spat putting the card on the table.

Sevika looked up from the cards to the man, talking a puff of her blunt and huffing.

" Careful " she said , looking back at you to see the small smile you had turned into an uncomfortable frown

" I know what could shut her up just right," he said again- but he didn't even have the chance to play his card again when he went falling backwards with sevika's punch.

" Who do you think you're talking to ? " she groaned and watched the man on the floor laying with a bloody nose, and so much worse- he couldn't even open his eyes.

" Sevika... " she heard you and looked back - she cursed and guided you out

" Are you okay? " she asked once you two were out - the chilly air hitting you both

" Me ? I am ... you didn't have to do that... i can handle it myself " you said, and she shaked her head . she knew you could, she has seen what you could do just to get some information.

" You really think I would let anyone talk to you like that? " she asked - looking down at your eyes, she had a worried look on her face waiting for your response.

Youu just looked at her- a soft look in your eyes, she would say they were shining as the stars would.

The thing was you didn't know why- why would she not let ? sure, you two were close but sevika could be mean and make comments sometimes - she never actually meant them, but she never told you that.

" I would not... and would never, specially coming from miserable disgusting idiots " she said after your silence but she could read your face - you weren't sure.

You couldn't read sevika well, she was hard, her face always estoic and never giving you the vulnerability she wished to show secretly.

it was silent, the only thing loud was the loud music from the bar and the voices of drunk people. or maybe it was the beating of her heart.

" let's go ... it's getting late " she said and started to walk, watching you from her shoulder as you did the same.

" I can't put into words how much I'm grateful for you... you seem to always be at the right place and right time " you said with an chuckle remembering the times she has saved your ass.

" I will always be if you... if you let me " she said looking at the small lamps shining the way home, distracting herself of her thoughts.

if you let me...

" I'll always want you to be... " you said making her stop, the sound of her boots stopping making the air more heavy.

she turned around - not with the confused look you expected her to give you, but with a small smile, her eyes bright with hope.

" Does that mean what I think it does ? Am I right for once, as you say ? " she commented, making you chukle.

Her face looked even more perfect with the orange light coming from the street lamps, making everything... more cozy as if the cold night wasn't making you tremble.

" don't get cocky now or I'll take it back " you said and she walked closer to you, not as confident as she looked normally.

" you can't take it back... " she said and you looked around- no one was there, you two were completely alone.

" I don't want to " you said and she cupped your cheek, her warm palm warming your face.

" I meant it- I want to always be here for you... with you... I care about you so much " she said her voice getting smaller as if she was speaking to herself.

" I care about you too... since the day we met- I knew I wouldn't be able to get you off my heart " you said, and she smiled - really smiled.

Her whole body got even more warm if possible. You looked so pretty with the lighs shining on your face.

" that won't be necessary " she said and her face got even closer- she looked at your eyes and you nodded- you seemed to know her well.

she kissed you gently, bringing her other hand to your lower back - you tasted as sweet as she imagined many times in her sleepless nights.

When you kissed her back she felt something as she never felt before- she never felt this with the flings she would have or the girls she would meet, no this was different.

A flower was blooming in her chest- she kissed you with more passion now, and felt your hands cradle her face. you hummed, enjoying every minute of it, but fun always ends quickly as some glass shattered making you both stop and turn around.

A group of men were almost falling of how drunk they were- laughing and yelling at each other.

she quickly patted your back- " we should go before i have to punch some more idiots " she said and you laughed, wrapping your arms on hers and never letting of her.

you were never going to let go of her.

[nationalanthcm]

Gold rush | Robb Stark

𝜗𝜚 "what must it be like to grow up that beautiful? with your hair falling into place like dominoes"

summary: robb loves spending his time simply admiring his wife. he just loves her so much, he can't help it. and now that she's pregnant with their firstborn...he wishes he could spend every second of his days with her

pairing: robb stark x pregnant!wife!reader

genre: fluff

side notes: english is not my native language, so i apologise in advance for any grammatical/spelling mistakes. if you find any error, feel free to correct me as long as you keep it respectful of course. this is my ever first piece of writing, so don't expect it to be a masterpiece lmao

"i see me padding 'cross your wooden floors, with my eagles t-shirt hanging from the door" 𝜗𝜚

The bright afternoon sunlight entered the room through the windows, bathing her in a soft, incandescent glow, making her almost like an angel designed by the Gods themselves. Robb has been standing there for quite a while, leaning against the doorway, simply staring at her as she read on the bed the two of them share.

This is something he often does, he usually finds himself admiring his wife from afar, simply staring at her as he wonders how she could be so beautiful, not only on the outside, but on the inside as well, and how he could've gotten so lucky that her heart chose to love him back.

Robb had known the woman that would eventually become his wife since he was young, he was about twelve when his eyes first laid on her. She had been padding around Winterfell, just outside the castle walls, her hands holding some sort of flower bouquet. It looked messy, and so did she, her dress was dirty with mud and her hair was a bit tangled, but he had been captivated by her nonetheless. He remembers that day as if it was yesterday, he remembers the way her cheeks got tinted with the lightest shade of pink when he spoke to her...he remembers it all as if it had been just yesterday. They both cherish that day a lot and often look back to it, as it was the day where their story started.

His wife's gentle voice snaps Robb out of his thoughts and his eyes refocus on her shape. She's staring at him, her book placed beside her, one of her hands pressed on the tiny bump in her belly. Robb can't help but smile at the sight. Gods, she really is beautiful. How could she be this beautiful? Robb really believes he could spend the rest of his day standing there, simply admiring the way she looks, even more so now that, on her belly, rests their firstborn, Robb's future heir. He also remembers the day she told him the news very clearly. He had been over the moon to find out they were expecting a baby.

"Forgive me, my love, I didn't notice you. How long have you been standing there? Not for too long, I hope." She says, sounding a little apologetic.

Robb's already walking up to the bed, settling down beside her, his body facing hers. Now that she's noticed him, he doesn't have to stand so far away, he can enjoy her presence from up close. He loves these moments before dinner, where he can relax after a long day of duties, simply enjoying the company of the woman he loves.

"Don't worry, beautiful, it hasn't been long and I was enjoying the sight of you as always." He answers, his tone equally soft, one of his large hands going to rest on top of her belly.

The girl only laughs quietly at his words, her head coming to rest on Robb's shoulder. She's aware of how much he likes to simply stare at her. She lost count of how many times she found her husband entranced by the sight of her, quietly watching her in the privacy of their chambers.

"How are you today? Has the little one been bothering you much?" Robb asks her after a beat of silence.

His wife can only smile at that, tilting her head to look up at him. She finds it endearing how he worries so much for her well being. She's only three months along in the pregnancy, the babe doesn't even move yet, but Robb always asks about her comfort, wanting to make sure she's as well as possible. They've both always been like that...always checking in on each other, making sure the other was okay, even back when they were younger and only shared a sweet, innocent friendship.

"I'm alright, my love, nothing's been too uncomfortable for now. I think it's far too early for that...my baby bump is barely even showing." She reassures, looking down at her belly.

Her baby bump is in fact barely noticeable, but it's there. Robb loves it, he loves to see the way her body is slowly changing, adapting to the small life that's growing inside. He didn't think it possible, but Robb finds himself loving her even more, because now she's not only his wife, but also the mother of his child.

"That's good, our little one is well behaved, doesn't make his mother suffer." Robb says jokingly, laughing quietly at his own joke. "Do you think it's a boy or a girl?"

Robb knows it's still too early to know that for certain the gender of the babe, but he finds himself wondering about that often and he's sure his wife does too. The maester says they'll be able to find out the gender soon enough.

"I don't know, I honestly have no idea. My mother says that some women have some sort of instinct but...I have no idea. I'm hoping it's a girl, though."

"A girl?" Robb wonders. When he wonders about it, Robb finds himself secretly wishing for a boy, but he'd also be fine with the babe being a little girl, of course. He just wants the pregnancy to go smoothly and for the babe to be healthy.

"Yes, just think about it...I'd be able to dress her up in the prettiest gowns, braid her hair..." His wife rambles, her voice filled with affection.

Robb can picture her words clearly in his mind. It's an endearing thought...to picture his wife tending to their young daughter. That thought alone almost makes him change his mind fully and solely wish for a girl.

"...I'd also be fine with a boy, of course...though I suppose he'd spend more time with you, training with swords and all..." She continues.

That brings a smile to Robb's face. He'd love that, to have a son to spend time with, to train him and teach him everything his own father taught him.

"What about you? Boy or girl?" His wife asks him, now staring up at him again.

"I'm fine with either of the two, but I've been hoping it's a boy."

She hums in acknowledgment to his words, her body resting against his. A comfortable silence falls upon the two of them and she picks up her book. Reading has always been her favourite thing to do, according to her own words. Robb goes back to doing one of his favourite things as well. He admires her quietly, watching the way her brows furrow in concentration. Once again, he finds himself thanking the Gods for sending him such a blessing. He has a beautiful, gentle wife and a child on the way...life couldn't be sweeter.