#if not for themselves definitely for the other

[luna-azzurra]

How Body Language Changes When a Character Is Falling in Love (Whether They Admit It or Not)

When someone starts to fall, it shows up everywhere—not in the love confession (that’s the easy part), but in the twitch of a smile, in the silence that suddenly feels charged, in the way someone’s hand almost reaches out before pulling back.

╰ They start listening… with their whole damn body

Suddenly, they’re turned toward this person all the time. Full body facing them. Chin tilted slightly in. They lean forward during small talk like it’s breaking news. They notice things, like the rhythm of their voice, the way their lips move when they think too hard. They stop fiddling with their phone. Their knee bounces until the other person speaks, and then, stillness. They’re so present, it hurts.

╰ Their eye contact gets… weird

Sometimes they can’t stop looking. Sometimes they can’t look at all... There’s that moment—the pause, the flicker—where their eyes land on the other person’s mouth for just a second too long. Or they track their hands. Or notice how their hair falls into their face. It’s not about lust. It’s yearning, and it’s quiet and stupid and full of panic. And when the person catches them looking? Immediate eye dart. Back to their drink. To the sky. To anywhere else. Guilty. Flushed. Terrified.

╰ Their hands get stupid

They’re suddenly very aware of what their hands are doing. They fidget more. Or freeze. They keep their arms close to their body, like they’re worried they’ll accidentally reach out. If they touch the other person, even casually, it lingers. Not long enough to be noticed, but long enough to matter. Sometimes they adjust the other person’s collar or brush something off their sleeve and then have a tiny meltdown inside. That kind of touch feels too intimate. It’s not flirtation. It’s reverence.

╰ Their silence means more than their words

They trail off mid-sentence. Laugh at things they don’t usually laugh at. Start saying something and stop themselves. It’s because their brain is trying to do too many things at once—act normal, sound chill, don’t make it weird, try not to look like you’re in love. Meanwhile, the body is over here sweating, shifting, subtly turning toward the other person like a sunflower in denial.

╰ Their whole vibe gets softer

There’s a gentleness that creeps in. Even if they’re a sharp, snarky character, there’s a moment where they look at the person like they’re a planet they’ve just discovered. It’s brief. It’s devastating. It’s involuntary. And they might pretend it didn’t happen. But the reader saw it. The love interest definitely saw it. And suddenly, everything is different.

╰ Bonus: They mirror the other person without meaning to

Their arms cross when the other person’s do. Their head tilts. They laugh a beat after. This is subconscious connection at work. Their body wants to match this person. Sync with them. Be close without being obvious. And when they stop mirroring? That’s a sign too. Maybe something hurt. Maybe they’re trying to pull away. But the body always tells the truth, even when the character’s mouth is lying through its teeth.

[strnilolover]

⋆⭒˚.⋆ watching is better than joining

warnings : girls dry humping. girls making out. dirty talk. mentions of drinking. matt and chris watch their girl best friends. small mention of them getting off to watching them.

the girls had too much to drink. matt and chris knew that—having been trying to drag them out of this party for ages, and finally, finally, being able to after lots of convincing.

but when they got home, it wasn’t any better.

they were loud—giggling at everything each of them said, music playing off one of their phones. but matt and chris couldn’t just stop them, they wanted them to have fun still, as long as it was in the safety of the home.

it wasn’t long before they were a mess of tangled limbs and laughter on the living room rug, giggling as they passed a bottle of something sweet between them. lip gloss smudged, cheeks flushed, and their hair tousled—matt and chris stood near the kitchen archway, watching in silence.

the girls weren’t just drunk—they were drunk on each other now. one of them had climbed into the other’s lap, arms around her neck, whispering something low that made them both laugh harder. matt and chris both shifted where they stood, jaws tensing, eyes tracking every movement. Or something they shouldn’t be seeing.

Or both.

they weren’t expecting it at all—it happened quickly. a kiss. open-mouthed and messy, one girl giggling against the other’s lips before pulling her back in, fingers sliding under the hem of her shirt.

matt’s throat bobbed. “they’re—uh—definitely still having fun,” he murmured, but his voice cracked halfway through. he was so turned on, his cock beginning to stir in his sweats at the sight of them. chris didn’t answer. he was too busy watching the way one of them rolled her hips forward, slow and teasing. how one of them moaned, low and breathy, like she forgot they weren’t alone.

they were saying things too—things neither matt nor chris could hear clearly, but the tone was unmistakable. all drawled-out pet names and giggled curses.

And yet neither of them could look away at what was unfolding right in front of them. matt leaned his elbow against the counter, knuckles pressed to his mouth, eyes locked in—trying to resist the urge to reach down and palm his aching cock. chris crossed his arms, his breathing going uneven.

the girl in her lap had her head thrown back now, laughing at something whispered in her ear—but it was the way her hips were moving that had both matt and chris frozen. slow, grinding movements, her fingernails tracing teasing lines along bare thighs. their lipsticks smeared from too many kisses.

“god,” matt muttered under his breath, shifting in his stance. chris didn’t answer. he was locked in as well—eyes dark, breath shallow as he watched one of the girls tug the other’s hair back just enough to expose her neck, tongue dragging along the skin before sinking into another kiss.

one of them gasped into the other’s mouth, high-pitched and breathy. “you like that?” she teased. “mmhmm,” the other hummed, grinding harder, dragging her hands down to grip her hips. “keep going. feels so good.” she moaned.

matt and chris let out a quiet groan, low and strangled. matt and chris weren’t just watching—they were losing themselves in it. in the way the girls soft moans mixed with the bass of the music. in the little whimpers, the bitten lips, the flushed skin, and the way one girl looked up at the other like she needed her.

they were drunk, messy, wrapped up in each other—and it was turning them both on by watching them more than they wanted to admit. “I should stop them.” chris muttered—but that was a lie. he didn’t want to stop them. matt just huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “yeah? you gonna walk over there and tell them to stop dry humping while you’ve got a hard-on?”

chris didn’t respond again. he couldn’t. not when one of the girls had just let out a filthy moan, fingers digging into the other’s hips, their kiss turning hungry and hot and downright obscene.

they both were trying so hard to refrain from touching themselves, but it was growing harder with every passing second. with every sound those girls made, and every slurred word that came out of their mouths.

matt was the first to give in. “oh fuck it.” he muttered under his breath, his hand coming down to tug his cock free from the confines of his sweats. the tip was red and angry, already leaking so much from what he was seeing. he spat into his hand, bringing it down to slowly tug on his cock, moving his hand up and down.

chris followed not too far behind, giving into the ache of his own cock—tugging himself free as he continued to watch the girls in front of him.

they were both fucking screwed.

a/n : slowly cleaning out my drafts…enjoy this 🙂‍↕️ please be responsible with drinking y’all

[korrasera]

This sentiment isn't just wrong, it's also kinda insulting. In that way someone who says, "Look at how special I am compared to the sheep," is.

People aren't other people. People are themselves. We are social animals. We influence and are influenced. Our identities are shaped both by our inner lives and the affect others have on us.

All of us. Even a master level sudoku player. And we're all still individuals.

Do people follow trends and perform groupthink? Sure, definitely. But all this kind of quote does is teach you to think of other people as shadows that aren't a real person.

And that's a terrible way to think. EDIT: I may have been going a little hard on this one, since the original quote is supposed to be about highlighting that we all borrow from each other and I'm a lot more used to seeing this sort of language used to justify superiority. So, just keep in mind that it wasn't meant to be taken as seriously as I took it.

[izzih22]

you should definitely do a fic of pazzi of when they get into a heated argument (slamming doors , screaming 😼) then one of them ignore or give the other silent treatment for like a day or two. then like they make up and js cute fluff ! I rlly hope that makes sense and you see the vision ykyk😛

The Worst Way to Love You

Note: I hope I got it right also here y’all go stay active pleas and thank you

They’ve been together for years—since high school, since long-distance flights and FaceTimes that lasted until sunrise. They know each other better than they know themselves.

Which is why it hurts so much when they fight.

Because no one else can cut you open like the person who’s memorized every piece of you.

⸻

Thursday, 9:12 p.m. – UConn Dorms

Azzi’s sitting on the edge of their bed, back straight, jaw clenched, arms crossed over her chest. She’s been trying to stay calm. She’s always the calm one.

Paige is standing with her arms thrown up in exasperation, pacing.

“So now I’m selfish? That’s what we’re doing?” Paige’s voice is sharp, edged in disbelief.

“I didn’t say selfish,” Azzi replies, controlled but cold. “I said inconsiderate.”

“That’s the same thing!”

“No, it’s not. It means you don’t think about how your actions affect other people—me. You just do what you want, and I’m left trying to adjust around you.”

Paige’s eyes flash. “That’s not fair.”

“Neither is always being the one who bends!” Azzi fires back, louder now, standing. “I rearranged everything this week so I could be there for your appointment and then you just… bailed. No text. No call. Nothing.”

Paige runs a hand through her hair, jaw tight. “I forgot! I had weights, and then Geno pulled me for film, and—”

“You forgot?” Azzi repeats. “That’s your excuse?”

Paige’s hands drop to her sides. “I’m not perfect, Az.”

Azzi laughs without humor. “I never asked you to be. I just want to matter enough that you remember I exist outside of practice.”

There it is.

The sentence that slices Paige straight down the middle.

“You know you matter to me,” she says, quieter now, but it’s sharp, desperate. “Don’t do that. Don’t pretend like you’re just some afterthought—”

“Then why do I always feel like I come last?”

The silence that falls is suffocating.

And Paige—Paige who’s always so quick with words, with fire—says nothing.

Azzi’s eyes are glassy now, but she doesn’t cry. Not yet. “You get to be everything for everyone. The leader, the hero, the player who carries us. But I’m the one who’s always here when you burn out. And I don’t mind—I love you—but it gets lonely when the only time you need me is when you’re falling apart.”

Paige’s voice is barely a whisper. “That’s not true.”

But Azzi just nods once. “Okay.”

And walks into the bathroom. Closes the door.

Paige stares at it.

And then turns around, walks to the front door, and leaves.

⸻

Friday Morning – Silent

They don’t speak.

Azzi makes tea for herself. No extra mug.

Paige comes back after class and doesn’t even change in their room.

They go to practice and Paige leads warmups like nothing’s wrong—voice loud, encouragement booming—but no one misses how she doesn’t look at Azzi once.

Azzi doesn’t flinch when Geno yells at her. Doesn’t smile when Ice makes a joke. She’s locked in. Focused.

But not with Paige. Not beside her, like always.

The team doesn’t ask. But Morgan mutters to Aubrey, “They’re too synced. When something’s off, it messes with the whole vibe.”

Aubrey hums. “It’s like the moon fighting the sun.”

⸻

Friday Night – 11:38 p.m.

Paige is curled up on the couch, hoodie pulled over her head, scrolling through old photos.

Her finger pauses on one: Azzi asleep in Paige’s hoodie, curled against her chest in a hotel room during their sophomore year. Paige remembers the way Azzi had mumbled “I love you” in her sleep.

She presses the screen to her chest, eyes wet.

She wants to say she’s sorry.

But they’ve been here before—where love feels like too much and not enough all at once. Where they push because they’re scared. Where they hurt each other, not out of hate, but because they love so hard and don’t always know what to do with it.

⸻

Saturday – All Day

They don’t text. They don’t fight. They don’t speak.

It’s worse than yelling.

Paige doesn’t sleep. Azzi doesn’t eat.

KK walks into the locker room after a solo shootaround and sees Paige staring at the floor, earbuds in but no music playing.

“She’s not okay,” KK says later.

Ice snorts. “You think?”

⸻

Saturday Night – 10:01 p.m.

Azzi walks into the room after dinner with her mom. She pauses in the doorway.

Paige is sitting on the bed—her bed—knees pulled to her chest.

She looks up.

Azzi doesn’t move.

And then Paige’s voice cracks. “I didn’t forget because I didn’t care. I forgot because everything’s moving so fast and I’m overwhelmed and I didn’t want to ask you to carry more of my weight.”

Azzi says nothing.

So Paige keeps going.

“I let everyone down if I drop the ball. Geno. The team. The program. I can’t let them see me slip. But with you… I don’t want you to see me like that either.”

Now Azzi steps in.

“But I already have. I know you like that, Paige. Messy. Tired. Stubborn. You’re not too much for me. You never have been.”

Paige’s eyes fill. “I just didn’t want to keep being the one who needs. I want to show up for you, too.”

Azzi kneels in front of her, hands on Paige’s knees. “Then let me in before you fall. Not after.”

There’s a pause.

And then Paige folds.

She slides down, presses her forehead to Azzi’s shoulder, and breaks.

“I missed you,” she whispers.

“I missed you too.”

“I was scared you wouldn’t come back.”

Azzi wraps her arms around her tightly. “There’s nowhere else I’d go.”

⸻

Later

They’re tangled in bed, Paige clinging to Azzi like her anchor. Azzi strokes her back, slow and soothing.

“I said some stuff I didn’t mean,” Paige whispers. “About not needing you.”

Azzi kisses her temple. “I knew you didn’t mean it. That’s why I didn’t leave.”

“You’re the only thing that makes all the pressure worth it.”

Azzi smiles against her hair. “You’re not a burden, Paige. You’re mine.”

Paige sniffles. “Even when I’m a disaster?”

“Especially then.”

⸻

Sunday – Practice

They’re back to moving as one.

Paige’s energy is electric. Azzi’s calm cuts through it like a blade. And when Geno calls a timeout, he mutters to KK, “Looks like the wives made up.”

KK grins. “Balance restored.”

Paige and Azzi fist-bump after a perfect backdoor cut.

And maybe Paige kisses Azzi in the tunnel when no one’s looking.

But that’s just between them.

[abcdfghjklmpqrobin]

I love the idea that the 'Robin cackle' wasn't meant to be an intimidation technique at first. It's just deadass how Dick laughs.

Like, Dick just has an evil sounding laugh. And, well, admittedly he is also a bit psychopath-y for a kid. He is always laughing at weird shit. And crooks all nervous, tripping over themselves to get things done 'before the Bat appears' when the Bat is already there? Definitely too funny not to laugh!

So it's the dead of the night and everyone is trying to be quiet when this cruel sounding cackle comes out of no where and starts echoing off the walls, getting more and more spectral... It's the last thing everyone hears before Batman beats the shit out of them.

And thus the mythos of the Robin cackle is born.

Bruce doesn't really put a stop to it, one, because it does make one hell of an intimidation technique. And two, because, well, it's Dick's laugh. What's he supposed to do? Tell his kid not to be happy? It's not Dick's fault he sound like something out of The Shining .

So things are what they're are, time goes on. It's not until later that B realizes his mistake.

Thing is, people tend to copy other people's way of laughing. Especially those of family and friends.

Batman doesn't remember this silly little fact about human nature until he's at a meeting with the JL. Everyone is getting comfortable, and heroes are shuffling in calmly, and then Barry comes in at super speed, promptly slips on the recently polished floor, and sends his own ass flying. He crashes into Hal and they both slam into a window so hard they crack the reinforced glass.

And Bruce tries, he really tries. But what the hell, he's tired, and maybe a bit concussed. So he laughs. Full on belly laugh.

What comes out of him is the sound of the gates of hell opening. Like someone gave Dracula a dose of Joker's gas. Rough and elegant yet so maniacal and evil it genuinely has people's hairs standing up. It's sounds like the last thing you hear before someone loses their mind. It sounds like how Dick laughs.

It's so bad it startles Bruce himself into stopping. Everyone is looking at him like 'What the fuck was that?!'. Clark starts using x-ray vision to make sure it's actually his friend under the cowl and not a villain. In similar fashion Diana reaches for her lasso. Barry is wondering if he died and that sound is the gream reaper and Hal is passed out in the floor.

Bruce is looking at the distance. He's not sure how he's going to explain to Alfred that the polished, educated laugh he taught him has been corrupted by his 12 year old .

[orieriee]

Would My Asian Parents Approve? — Love & Deepspace Boyfriend Edition

Ranking how approvable LADS men by my asian parents if I bring them home for dinner

note: ‼️ This headcanon is just my interpretation of how my Asian parents might react. It’s also a bit of a stereotype, reflecting the typical dynamics of a staple Asian household, but it’s all in good fun so please take this with a grain of salt, this is just my own personal interpretation and meant to be taken light heartedly.

another note: based on their personality and their interaction in Love and Deepspace game when introducing themselves to your parents + my own interpretation! Uses she/her mainly, and also "you" instead of "me"

written and published by orieriee on tumblr. Please do not copy or repost in any other platform.

👑 Number 1 : Zayne ☃️

Zayne is definitely the top number one of most likely to get approved by my asian parents

Heck, he put has their blessing the moment he sits down for dinner for the first time

It's definitely not because he's a doctor with a stable job

I mean he's a cardiac surgeon at 27! With an award at that! Immediate approve 💯

He's the kind of guy who brings thoughtful souvenirs for your parents when he comes over for dinner

I can already picture him bringing a premium tea gift set that he specifically got according to your parents' taste, beautifully packaged and looks expensive 🍵

Honestly, he's already the son-in-law! Came for dinner, stayed for marriage plans and the future

What can I say? He’s polite, good-looking, and probably smells wonderful—like a hint of jasmine mixed with a bit of antiseptic due to his work

He’s the type to compliment my mom’s cooking, and she'd be so pleased that she'd serve him the best portions instead of giving them to me 😔

"Here, eat more meat! I made plenty just for you,” she would say with a happy smile

Even dad would probably like him immediately, pulling him aside and ask privately, “So, when's the wedding?” — like, dad, chill, it's Zayne's first time coming over for dinner

They know their daughter is in good hands with Zayne as her husband

👑 Number 2 : Caleb 🍎

I'm putting Caleb as my second in the most likely my parents would approve list because he works for the government as a pilot (a stable job)

There is a consideration though: my mom would ask "If he’s a pilot, wouldn’t you be lonely since he’s often up in the air?”

She also worries about the risks associated with being a pilot, given the dangers involved in the profession

But Caleb is the type of guy who immediately gets along with mom and dad, probably because they already knew him as their daughter's childhood friend but coming over for dinner (as a partner) is a different matter

From the very first meeting, he accidentally introduced himself as “son-in-law” as an accidental slip of the tongue

During dinner, he is charming and a great conversationalist, which creates a wonderful atmosphere

He openly expresses that "I adore your daughter very much, you guys did a great job creating her" and reassures parents that he will protect you. He often joking around to ease the mood

He enthusiastically offers to wash the dishes and is a fantastic conversation partner for mom

With dad, he can discuss all the mechanical topics that only fathers understand, which makes sense since he’s a pilot

Relatives probably adore him too, as he easily makes friends with everyone.

He’s the kind of boyfriend who prompts mom to frequently ask about him, like, “When is Caleb coming over for dinner again?”

(The last 3 are under the cut!)

🌟 Number 3: Xavier ✨

Xavier is third because he is the last one with a "real stable job," while the next two would likely be questionable in my Asian parents' eyes

His primary hobby is sleeping, and since that doesn't lead to productivity and is sometimes seen as lazy in a typical Asian household, it could raise some concerns

However, mom really likes him because he looks like a prince

He is the type of boyfriend who makes my Asian mom ask, “How did you manage to attract someone like Xavier?” like, as if he's out of my league because of his prince-ly beauty which I take personally

With his princely, ethereal looks and charm, it raises the question of how I managed to win over such a beautiful man

He is polite, has a soothing voice, and can cook and clean, which is great since their daughter barely tidies up around the house hey

Xavier works in the same field as we do, which reassures parents that he can support their daughter in her career

Although he may appear innocent, the protective Asian dad senses that there might be something “impure” about him

He’s not very talkative but insists on helping around the house, which is a plus

My mom keeps insisting that he stay over, but we all know that it won’t end well

My dad implicitly disapproves of him staying over, as we all understand what might happen ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

And it's something inappropriate

💫 Number 4: Sylus🐉

Ok... Sylus girlies, don't come at me, but man I think Sylus is somewhat awkward at first if he's meeting the parents for the first time

My parents personally might find him intimidating because he is quite the large guy... With silver hair and red eyes and all (but mama I'm in love with a criminal)

He introduced himself as the owner of a family business, which is a relief since it shows he is responsible and established

As he shares more about himself, my mom starts to relax and feel more comfortable with him

However, when he mentions his hobbies of shooting and racing and wanting to ask them to join, I worry because my dad has back problems, which Sylus, honey... I don’t think that helps😭

So yeah, imo I think he is the type of boyfriend that my family needs time to warm up to

But once they start to get to know him, he quickly becomes their favorite

Like in some days, you'd be surprised and ask, "What do you mean you're going to the opera too with Sylus?" showing how much mom enjoys his company by asking him to go with her because he also enjoys music

It surprises me that Sylus even asked my mom to join him for the opera; they’re practically best friends now!

Sylus has a way of showering them with luxury, frequently brings thoughtful gifts when he visits, like gourmet snacks and special treats he got from overseas

Despite his intimidating appearance, he has a gentle side that puts parents at ease, proving that he genuinely cares about their daughter

‼️Number 5: Rafayel

He's a painter, and no, I'm not a Rafayel slander

I mean, a creative job?? In an Asian household??? My parents would definitely question how he could possibly support himself AND their daughter with such work

An artist as a job = no money in the eyes of Asian parents 😭🤡 (trust me)

We'll also hear "You own a home by the sea?? Wouldn't you catch sea sickness? Isn't it a bit dangerous at night?", as they ask in concern

From the very first impression, Rafayel comes off as casual and laid-back with mom and dad, which... Doesn't seem to earn their approval 🤡

However, I think my little sisters and cousins would love him because he's sassy, encourages their creativity since he's an artist, and is a merman

While parents may not approve of him, younger relatives have already declared him their favorite "brother"

But once Rafayel shows them that even an artist can be rich by inviting them to his house

So, once the parents visit his art studio and see the stunning view, they are likely to be amazed by the beauty of his surroundings

His home resembles a vacation house, and he drives expensive cars, which further impresses them

He probably took them on a cruise ride and had the most delicious seafood dinner, which definitely win their hearts

Although my parents might still have some doubts, they will gradually come to accept him once they see how in love we are

I actually have a lot of headcanons ideas and stories to write about LADS men but I just don't have the time to write 😭 they're occupying my head 24/7 just by floating around my head space.

[complete]

A reminder too, that often the loudest "straight" voices who try to smear queer people as child abusers, are actually child abusers themselves. For example, I saw this yesterday: Nicola Murray, a leading Scottish TERF has just been found "guilty of three charges of assault, two sexual assaults, two of indecent communication, one indecent assault and two offences of behaving in a threatening or abusive manner, all committed against minors between December 2002 and August 2022." That's a clear pattern of CSA and child abuse over 20 years.

"Murray was a lead voice last week when the UK Supreme Court ruled that the legal definition of a woman should be based on biological sex under equalities law, meaning, for instance, that transgender women, who are biologically male but identify as women, can be excluded from women-only spaces."

"Murray, from Stanley, Perthshire, set up Brodie’s Trust seven years ago claiming she suffered two miscarriages after being abused by a former partner. It operated in Perth, Stirling and Dundee but widened services after trans critical group Let Women Speak donated £2,500 and supporters handed over more than £1,000 during an internet cash drive in 2021" according to The Scottish Sun.

"As of yesterday, Observer columnist and leader writer Sonia Sodha, LGB Alliance co-founder Malcolm Clarke, Rosie Duffield MP, For Women Scotland and many other very high-profile “Gender Critical” figures were still following Nicola Murray on X/Twitter." "Murray is one of Scotland’s best-known anti-trans activists; she was one of the key figures in the witch-hunt against Mridul Wadhwa, the trans woman driven out of her job at a rape crisis centre in Edinburgh." https://www.planetrans.org/2025/04/anti-trans-activist-nicola-murray-found.html

Similar with "gender critical" (ie transphobic) icon, radical feminist Germaine Greer, who is a rape apologist and a great fan of CSA, having written a whole book (The Beautiful Boy) about her "sexual appreciation" of minors, where she encourages the reader to sexualise young boys, saying: "A boy is only a boy for a very brief space. He has to be old enough to be capable of sexual response [this can happen from around 5 years old] but not yet old enough to shave [ie not yet a teenager]. This window of opportunity is not only narrow, it is mostly illegal." [emphases mine] These people aren't interested in protecting kids - they're interested in doing what they please, including vilifying innocent queer people with no reasonable basis or grounding in truth or actual events.

LGBT people, I need you to know that any “pedophile execution bill” passed in the US is meant to put you, personally, to death. When the right says “groomer,” they’re talking about you. When they say “predator,” they’re talking about you. When they say “pedophile,” they’re talking about you. Any actual child sex abusers who are convicted and executed would be, to them, a happy accident, a cherry on top of a law that’s meant to exterminate anyone who deviates from the cisgender, heterosexual norm.

[r3ynah]

GHOSTBUSTERS DCxDP oneshot?

The bats think the mansion is haunted, and no one questions it. With the manor being at least decades old, being haunted by a possible ancestor of Bruce was the least of their worries when they have cases to solve, rogues to fight and mountains of paperwork to do.

At first, they ignored it, it was harmless at its earliest phase; pens disappearing out of nowhere when they'd clearly just placed it on top of the desk a minute ago, along with random lights flickering which they just reminded themselves to make a mental note that a lightbulb needs replacing.

And then it escalated, a few months in and things started getting freaky even for them, some of the bats would hear distant laughter in some corridors of the manor, shadowy figures at the corner of their eyes, and one time when the family was downstairs at cave working on a crime file half-past midnight, there was a sudden occurrence that every single light present in the Wayne manor even the cave underground suddenly turned off leaving the bat computer as the only thing to resonate light off from.

But even the bat computer was not completely protected, a few seconds after the blackout and after a few questioning glances at each other— all the monitor screens turned green, nothing in view just this neon sickly green that reminded them of the Lazarus pits, if they weren't alarmed yet, then the affair after this will certainly will:

The sound of someone weeping was heard, the crying was soft but not unnoticed. No, they couldn't even ignore this cry if they wanted to, but because this person was not letting their cries go unheard, it seeks their attention in every direction.

Everywhere but nowhere at the same time.

No one dared to break the silence, they thought they couldn't all the training and practice they had just willingly jumped out of the window when they heard the bellowing cries.

It seemed like they were being clung onto by unseen hands clutching at their legs to stay put in their places.

A few bated breaths: One, Two, Three, Four.

Wet footsteps can be heard slowly walking in their direction and then— Stephanie booked it, screaming along the lines of colorful and creative swears, followed by Tim cursing to himself that he needs to buy a bottle of holy water tomorrow, Jason definitely creeped out went to start his motorbike and escaping to go back to crime alley, Duke who was panicking grabbed Cass who was giggling at the chaos that is happening, by the hand and sprinted to the elevator with his powers keeping them from not slamming into anything, Dick was no religious person but he ran while singing the lyrics of 'I love you Jesus', Damian who was in Dick's arms can only protest.

And then there was Bruce, still standing unmoving at the center of the cave all alone, or is he?

And then Bruce felt it, cold mist gathering on top of his shoulders forming into a figure like someone was perched on it, he didn't want to believe it at first, but it was starting to be hard to make an excuse for it when a pair of neon green orbs like eyes opened up to stare at you, goosebumps traveled all over his body as he heard the uncanny but very clear whisper of the said mist like figure saying "Boo" before he also sprinted out of the cave to go to sleep, maybe he indeed was very stressed just like how Alfred told him yesterday.

It was now the next day, Alfred stood idly behind the kitchen counter, he adjusted an old cellular phone in his hand for a more comfortable grip while pressing it against his ear, his great-nephew called just a moment ago to express the troubles that he did.

"Did I go too far, scaring them?" Danny meekly said, clearly letting the guilt get to him, Alfred stayed silent as he looked up to look at the other room connecting to the kitchen which is one of the more used living rooms of the manor.

There he saw almost everyone present watching intently as Stephanie presented a PPT presentation of a video game called phasmophobia and was currently giving insights on how this game can help them as a basis on how they can identify the entity if it's just a shade or a full-on demon, which was also backed up by additional information given by Tim, who was very compelled on also doing this and was practically vibrating in excitement in place.

Surprisingly everyone else also seemed interested, nodding a couple of times in agreement and raising their hands when confused.

Alfred only had an amused look plastered on his face, as he brought his attention back to his nephew on the other side of the line:

"No need to worry too much my nephew, you have completed the task I gave you perfectly thank you."

Turns out that Alfred was getting irritated about how his worries were being ignored and how he was only given excuses as to why the bats couldn't rest and allow a time of relaxation, so he sighed and finally gave up and called his great-nephew from Amity Park to ask for a request in exchange of home baked desserts which was immediately accepted as a very good barter (Danny's words).

In the end, it went well, at least they have had their sleep and was now more focused on other things than work and being vigilantes, Alfred can only hope this will last up at a minimum of 2 weeks or so.

[five-rivers]

Tuck's Labyrinth

[Phic Phight Phill Phor @mistythefifth!]

Tucker was a lot of things.  A genius.  A first-rate bachelor.  A carnivore.   A snack.  A geek.  Unbelievably handsome.  An Esperantist.  God’s gift to women (and men of good taste).  A gamer.  Cool beyond cool.  A hacker.  Eminently eligible.  A ghost hunter.  Drop-dead gorgeous.  A hobbyist archer.  A magnet for Cupid’s arrows.  The reincarnation of an ancient and possibly evil pharaoh.  Bootylicious. The best friend of the personification of memento mori and also Danny Fenton.  And, most importantly, too fine.  

He was not, however, in any way equipped to deal with this.  

“It's so obvious,” said Wes.  “If you'd just open your eyes–”

“You're the one who needs to open his eyes.  Or at least get checked for colorblindness.”

“Do you hear yourself?  If even you think it's reasonable to mix up Fenton and Phantom just by swapping colors–”

“Uh, one, it isn't, and, two, I was talking about coming to school wearing… that.”

Paulina pointed a manicured fingernail in the direction of Wes's clothing, which was, in her defense, a particularly eye-searing combination of flannel plaid jacket, striped t-shirt, novelty camouflage pants, and bright orange boots.  Even Tucker didn't dress like that.  Regularly.  Wes hunched in on himself.  

“It's laundry day,” he said. 

“Your mama's washing your shoes too, huh?”

“Shut up,” said Wes.  “I don't need to take this from a necrophiliac.”

“You–!”

Tucker couldn't take much more of this.  “You guys do know that there's an actual evil ghost in here somewhere?  You know, the one who turned the school into a maze and trapped us in it?”

“I don't know what you're worried about,” said Wes, “Fenton's not going to leave you here.”

Paulina scoffed.  “Fenton's hiding in a closet somewhere. Mi amor, Phantom, on the other hand, will beat up that nasty ghost and sweep me off my feet at any moment.  You can thank me now.”

Tucker loved Danny like a brother, but these guys had way too much faith in a guy who'd once lost a fight with a grocery bag.  (Long story.)

“That's great,” said Tucker.  “But may I remind you: giant maze.”

Wes rolled his eyes.  “Mazes are easy.  You just have to make all right turns.  You can stop the performance already.”

“My what?”

“You know, hyping up your lying friend.  Being a ghost doesn't make him cool.”

“Nothing could make any of you cool,” said Paulina, “but Mr. Delusional is right.  Mazes are easy.”

“You're calling me delusional, when you're–?!”

“Okay, okay,” said Tucker.  “So, three things.  One, the right hand turns thing is only good for getting out of a maze, not for finding people in it.  Two, it only works if you start with a wall that connects with the outside.  And, most importantly, for it to work, you have to actually be doing it.”

Tucker was definitely channeling Danny, or maybe Sam, but there was such a thing as being too laid back.

“Well, we're not stopping you,” said Paulina, examining her fingernails.  “Go run off and do whatever.  I'll tell Phantom when he comes to rescue me.  Probably.”

“Hey, wait, no, Fenton's coming for him–”

Yeah, Tucker wished he could leave.  But these two had no ghost fighting experience, would throw themselves at a ghost if they thought it would get Danny's attention, and would throw themselves at each other if Tucker wasn’t here.  Heck, they were doing it with him here. 

Sam probably would have left, which meant that he was channeling Danny.  

This was terrible.  How did Danny do this?

“Look,” said Tucker, interrupting the argument.  “Even if you think that we’re going to be rescued, we don’t know when and we don’t know if there are other ghosts around who could attack us.  We need some kind of a plan.”  

Paulina and Wes stared at him.  

“Other than just waiting to be rescued,” clarified Tucker.  He waved at the ‘room’ around them.  “We aren’t even somewhere we can barricade, and I don’t know about you, but I don’t see a drinking fountain or a bathroom anywhere.”  They were, in fact, in a fairly featureless stretch of hallway, complete with lockers, slightly-cracked linoleum, and buzzing fluorescent lights.  The locker numbers were non-sequential and had three more digits than the highest-numbered real lockers at the school.  

“I never go to the bathroom at school,” said Wes.  “That’s where they get you.”

“Dude,” said Tucker.  “Like, how?  Do you not drink or what?”

“I don’t drink at school.  If I did, I’d have to use the bathroom.”

“No wonder you’re so crazy,” said Paulina.  “I’d say that you should just go to the bathroom with your friends, like a normal person, but you don’t have any of those.”

“I do too!”

“Yeah?  Who?” asked Paulina.  

Tucker listened, too.  And took out his PDA.  This would be good data for his all-school relationship map.  

(Hey, it was an important multi-function tool.  How was he supposed to know who to ask out without it?  Or who to blackmail with what if someone more credible than Wes Weston found out Danny’s secret?)

“I’m not going to tell you.  You’ll just say that they aren’t real.”

Ooh.  That was just sad.  Tucker put his PDA away.

“Well, now I am,” said Paulina.  

There was a sudden, startling chime from the PA system.  Tucker looked around, trying to find the speaker.  

“Hi, so, first off, don’t panic,” said Danny’s voice.  

That… was maybe not the best way for Danny to start.  Jeez.  

“Oh!  Oh!  It’s Phantom!” said Paulina, bouncing distractingly.  

“It’s Fenton,” said Wes, “and it’s about time.”

“And, secondly, no, I haven’t found the office.  I’m possessing the PA system.  And, no, I can’t hear you, unless you find one of the PA buttons and–”

There were a series of beeps, followed by shouting, followed by a screech of feedback.  

“--ough of that!” said Danny, getting control of the system again.  “So, if you can get to a button, I can hear you, but I can’t teleport you out, so that’s kind of pointless.  Unless you’re being attacked or something.  Which could be happening.  This guy named himself Daedalmouse, which sort of implies the existence of a Mousotaur, and I’ve been fighting a lot of ghost rats trying to find him.  I’m pretty sure that finding him and beating him up will undo the whole labyrinth thing, but I don’t know how long it will take – yes, I know about the right hand wall trick, but that only works for getting out of mazes that are, you know, following the laws of physics, and not finding crazy ghosts that aren’t following the laws of physics.  I’ll try to check in by possessing the speakers every couple of hours, but in the meantime, hang tight, find places with water, all that survivalist stuff.  If you find a way out, go for it, but no Icarus stuff.  Icarus,” mumbled Danny, sounding distracted.  “Icarus.  Icar-mouse?”  The PDA system chimed again, and then fell silent.  

Except for everyone mashing the buttons, but that was just unintelligible noise and didn’t count.  

“The ghost is named Deadmau5?” asked Paulina.  “What a rip off.”

“He said Daedalmouse.  Like Daedalus?  From Greek mythology?  Ringing any bells?” asked Wes.  

“Whatever,” said Paulina.  “I bet you don’t even know who Deadmau5 is.”

Tucker breathed in slowly through his nose.  “Let’s at least find one of the call buttons so that we can, you know, call for help?  Hello?  Wes?  Paulina?”  Tucker sighed and adjusted his glasses.  “Or so that we can call Phantom when he gets on next?”

“Please, like you need the announcement system to call your best frie–”

“Yes, and then once Phantom knows where I am, he will come and rescue me,” said Paulina, skipping down the hallway.  

“Sure,” said Tucker.  He started walking.  He didn’t want Paulina to get too far ahead.  “Are you coming, Wes?”

“You could just call him,” said Wes.  “On your phone.”

As a point of fact, Tucker had already tried that.  It didn’t work.  “I don’t have Phantom’s number, Wes.”

“I hate you so much.  All of you.”

“I know, Wes.”   

.

“Oh!  Look at that!” said Paulina, pointing around the corner.  

Tucker ran forward - well, jogged, they’d been walking for a while, vainly searching for a classroom door - thinking she’d seen a ghost.  She hadn’t.  

They all looked at the vending machine, hungrily. 

Paulina ran forward and punched in a number on the vending machine keypad, then stopped and turned back to Tucker and Wes.

“Do, like, either of you have any money?”

“Aren’t you rich or something?” asked Wes.  

“Which is how you know I’ll pay you back,” said Paulina.  She flipped her hair over her shoulder.  “I can’t believe that the one time I leave my purse in my locker during school, this happens.”

“Is it still school property if it’s in a nightmare ghost maze?” asked Tucker, because there was jerky in there, and his ultra-predator instincts needed fuel, darn it.  “We can always say the ghost broke it.”

“Okay, but, like, how?” asked Paulina.  “I’m not breaking my nails on this thing.”

“Just move,” said Tucker, pulling out his PDA and nudging Paulina to the side.  He probably had some dongle or other that would connect to the vending machine.  Not this one…  Not that one…  There, he could slide that into the card reader and then just run the program.  He hadn’t tested this before, so he had no idea if it would–

Tucker didn’t have Danny’s ghost sense, but after over a year of ghost hunting, he’d picked up a few things.  Like when a ghost was about to cream him.  Unfortunately, he still didn’t have much of a skill set when it came to what to do when he noticed a ghost was about to cream him.  He looked over his shoulder.  

Yep.  That was a giant ghost rat, all right.  

He dropped his PDA, then threw himself to the floor as the rat jumped straight at his head.  It hit the vending machine, sending it crashing to the floor.  Paulina screamed and ducked around the corner.  Wes stared, frozen.  

Tucker shoved his hands in his pockets and pulled out his lipstick laser.  He spun the top and started firing.  The rat yelped.  He loved this thing so much.

But giant ghost rats had thicker skin than the typical animal ghost, because it jumped on Tucker, knocking the laser out of his hands.  He and the rat rolled around, wrestling.  

Man, all this scene needed was some fire, and then it’d be straight out of that one mov–

Paulina came screaming back around the corner, carrying a large cork board over her head.  It was covered in motivational posters with slogans like ‘If someone tells you that you cannot become immortal, they are liars,’ ‘Doesn’t it make sense that a lot of witch hunts are witch hunts because it’s your birthday?’ and ‘If we all work together we can make the north pole collapse under its own weight.’  

She slammed the board down on the rat’s head and it sort of staggered off Tucker, twitching.  It was a good thing it was too stupid to go intangible.  Paulina had used enough force that Tucker would have some broken ribs if the rat was smart.  

But the rat’s disorientation was momentary.  It turned back to Paulina and Tucker, teeth bared.  Which was when Wes started shooting the rat with the lipstick laser.  The rat yelped and twisted to face him, levitating up into the air, which in turn gave Tucker enough time to roll to his feet and activate his wrist ray.  

He didn’t like the wrist rays as much as the lipstick laser, they were harder for him to aim, but at this range, that hardly mattered.  After being hit a few dozen times, the rat ran away, squeaking.  

“Thanks,” said Tucker.  “That was–  Thanks.  Can I have that back?”

Wes, pale faced, handed the lipstick laser back to Tucker like it was a loaded gun…  Which wasn’t exactly inaccurate…  

“That was so gross,” said Paulina, holding her hands out in front of her as if they were contaminated.  Tucker didn’t know what her problem was, she hadn’t even touched the rat.  

“Yeah,” agreed Wes, who hadn’t even been near the rat, breathlessly.  He was getting some of his color back, though, so that was good.  Tucker never knew what to do when people passed out.  Unless those people were Danny, in which case what to do usually involved evacuation, ghost first aid, and deciding how many days to tell Danny he’d been out for when he woke up.  

“Could’ve been worse,” said Tucker.  “Luckily, you had me.  Tucker Foley, too fine.”

Paulina and Wes stared at him, lips starting to curl.  Tough crowd.  

How did Danny do this?

Tucker shrugged, discarding the thought, and walked over to the vending machine.  He rescued his PDA - the reinforcement upgrades were really paying off! - kicked the machine to shake off some of the broken glass, and reached in to pull out a packet of jerky.  It had his name on it.  Metaphorically speaking.  

“Are you really going to eat that?” asked Wes.  “That thing was all over you.”

“Well, yeah,” said Tucker, peeling open the packet.  “But it was dead, so…”

“It could have the plague,” said Wes.

“Then I’m already dead,” said Tucker.  “Since it was all over me and all.  Ooh, this type has cheese in it.”  He took a bite and the walls shimmered.  The next thing Tucker knew, he was standing on the front lawn of the school, along with the rest of the student body.

“We’re out?” asked Wes.  

“Phantom saved us,” said Paulina, clasping her hands together, her previous disgust forgotten.  “I knew he would.  Next time, I’ll have to give him a hero’s reward.  Fate is so cruel, to keep us apart.”

Wes scoffed.  “He literally sits two rows behind you in almost every class you have.”

Tucker took a deep breath, anticipating the argument, then turned and walked away.  They were out of the maze.  It wasn’t his problem anymore.  He could enjoy his jerky.  

High overhead, Tucker heard Danny scream.  “It was about the ‘mice’ finding the cheese in your stupid maze?  Why the heck are you Ancient Greek themed if you’re just a mad scientist?!”

[jupitersfall]

CAM-GIRL | N. SCATORCCIO

summary: nat needs money. when she signs up for a website, she meets a certain user on there that has no problem giving her their cash. smut

a/n: i was listening to radiohead during this, that’s why ok computer is r’s username btw 😭😭

nat wasn’t entirely proud of this.

but she *did* need the money. and she knew she looked good. she knew there were people on the internet who would do crazy shit to get a glimpse of her tits.

and when she had heard about this website, she did get a little curious. so, she’d taken a look.

it wasn’t anything too surprising. girls sucking dildos or fucking themselves. guys jerking off, or groaning and whimpering into their microphones.

it had taken her a few days to come up with a decision. she needed money, sure, but did she really want to do this? i mean, it’s not like she didn’t have a job. although, the record store didn’t pay much.

one night, she had gotten a little too stoned. she was scrolling through that website again, after having decided on making an account. it was only when she stumbled across a girl who’d received $50 for just saying hi to one of her viewers, that she’d do this.

she’d make a video. just one, and see how it went.

it’s not like anybody would actually watch her.

okay, maybe she’d hide her face.

and after coming to the conclusion that she would indeed make a video, a few day’s later nat sat on the edge of her bed, her phone camera positioned below her eyes by a half-broken phone stand that she’d found at the thrift store.

she had started recording, and the minutes ticked by. each second was agonizing, if she had to be honest. this was a terrible idea, wasn’t it? god, she should end the live before some-.

her eyes widened as she watched her viewers go from 0 to 1. great, now someone was watching her. she cleared her throat awkwardly, licking her chapped lips.

“hi,” nat said, her voice uncharacteristically shaky, “thanks for…joining.”

her hands twisted in her lap, nails gently digging into her thighs.

user57282: hey

user57282: u should take ur top off

that definitely didn’t help nat’s nerves. she took a deep breath, eyes fluttering closed as she grabbed the hem of her shirt and began to tug it up over her head, leaving her in just a simple red bra.

user57282: god damn

her viewers had begun to rise from one, to five, to twelve. nat hadn’t taken anything else off, and she’d only got a couple dollars so far. then one comment came in that caught her attention most.

okcomputer11: you’ve got a nice smile

okcomputer11: not just nice lol it’s pretty

the casualness of the message took nat by surprise, and she let out a laugh, before raising a hand up to cover her mouth. ok computer…god, wasn’t that a radiohead album? she nearly laughed again.

ping!

okcomputer11: touch urself for me

okcomputer11: please

nat’s eyebrows rose slightly at that, the message ‘okcomputer11 sent $20’ popping up at the top of her screen. her cheeks flushed a little, a strange feeling stirring in her stomach.

well, she did just get twenty bucks. and you at least had manners.

she raised one of her hands up, fingers grazing the top of her tits before she began to awkwardly grope her chest, fingertips gently digging into her flesh.

okcomputer11: good

okcomputer11: but just a little lower :)

ping!

another twenty.

she shuffled a bit, lowering her camera as best she could so that her thighs were in the shot. her viewers had raised a lot more, now sitting at 57. there were other comments being sent, but she was mostly concerned with this ‘ok computer’ person.

she shuffled back a bit on the bed, being mindful not to show much of her face. her thighs spread, and she leaned back on one of her elbows while her other hand began to rub over her covered clit.

okcomputer11: holy

okcomputer: don’t tease

ping!

god. fifty bucks.

nat couldn’t help but grin. she grunted a little as she began to tug her shorts down, hips lifting off the bed a bit, and then she tossed the fabric into the corner of her room. she pushed her underwear to the side, her eyes slowly fluttering closed as she let her fingertips circle her clit. with a little moan, she gently eased her middle and ring finger inside her entrance.

okcomputer11: that’s good

nat wasn’t really paying much attention to the comments now, preoccupied by the feeling of her fingers pumping in and out of her cunt. she felt that familiar tightening sensation, and knew it wouldn’t be long before she came. her eyes slowly peered open, narrowing a bit as she made out some more of your comments.

okcomputer11: fuck

okcomputer11: are you gonna cum

nat took a few deep breaths, licking her lips as she nodded— but then she remembered that her face wasn’t in view. so, she let out her best ‘yeah’, which came out as a bit of a whisper.

ping!

100 dollars?

okcomputer11: please cum

if this were any other situation, nat would’ve laughed at the sheer absurdity. but she felt way too good right now with her fingers fucking herself.

nat’s eyes squeezed shut, her pussy tightening around her fingers as she came. she let out an almost pornographic moan, her mouth hanging open as she slowly rode out her orgasm.

she took a moment to catch her breath before she pulled out of herself. she was just about to wipe her hand off on a nearby mcdonald’s napkin, when another one of your comments came in

okcomputer11: taste urself

ping!

another twenty.

nat hesitated, eyes flickering down to her fingers which glistened with her wetness. she licked her lips, slowly bringing her hand up to her mouth. her lips parted, tongue darting out to graze the tip of finger. she slowly brought her fingers into her mouth, cheeks hollowing a bit as she licked herself clean.

when she finished, she simply watched the comments. there were more people asking for things, but to be frank, she was tired. and…well, that had been enough for one day.

“i think im gonna go,” nat said to her audience. she glanced up at the viewer count. 103. not bad. “but i might go live another time. for now, bye.”

okcomputer11: bye :)

nat ended the live, tossing her phone down on her bed. she began to search for a new set of clothes. she needed a shower, especially after that.

thirty minutes later, when she was stepping out of her bathroom with a towel wrapped around her, she checked her phone to see a new notification.

‘okcomputer11 has followed you’

[sag-dab-sar]

Hellenic Polytheist Reconstructionists

Am I a reconstructionist? No. And I do think there is a difference between Recon and Revival.

Here is my feeling of difference, some are absolutely going to disagree with this but its my perspective:

"Polytheist Reconstructionism & Revivalism is the worship of a pantheon of Gods heavily influenced by the original religion that worshipped them. It is not a claim of continuity with that religion, or a desire to reinstate the ancient culture & its morals/laws. Reconstructionism attempts to be as close as possible to actual ancient practice without forgoing modern morals. While Revivalism attempts to remain close to the meaning of the ancient practice— allowing for heavy modern adaptations while still fulfilling the ancient practice purpose."

My entire practice has to be modified for my disability, I had dreams of recon but the methods I can't preform.

My zero spoon praxis is all modern:

My method of low spoon / no spoon libations is entirely modern and not at all how the ancient people would do it. Purpose: Doing libations is better than not doing them.

The idea of just invoking them. Saying "Hygeia" before a shower. Saying Theoi's names before a sip or bite to make it an offering. Etc. Purpose: Again literally anything is better than nothing.

Watching TV "with" the Gods (no I don't believe they're sitting next to me or anything). Purpose: keep the Gods in my life and mind, as they were ever present for the ancient people.

Defining "purity" as being clean with the clear ability to focus on the Gods even if in PJs. Definitely not ancient standard. I'd worship if sick if I can get all the symptoms under control (like cough medicine for example), have clean clothes, wash hands and face, focus. I'd worship on a period so long as I was clean and could focus. Etc. Purpose: while it is not the ancient standard of purity, purity is important so I had to have some sort of bench mark (its even more important in Sumerian but thats outside scope of post)

New Festivals (I usually write low spoon versions). I'm trying out some ancient ones but I find them hard to connect to (or at least don't have energy yet to appreciate them), I make my own right now. Purpose: The ancient people really liked festivals

I could go on, point is adapting ancient practices to make an attempt to meet the purpose is my goal. I'm not focused necessarily on using the ancient methods (well not yet I take things as my disability allows)

But without reconstructionists (many of whom are classicists) I would not know:

Miasma vs lyma. And this is important because I had met people who head veiled specifically to protect themselves from miasma because they thought it was that common and bad

Different methods of purity: just washing hands face; barley throwing; fire extinguished in water; few others

How to structure ancient prayers if you want to write them in that way. And how it is interwoven with Kharis.

Literally any ancient Hellenic Festival outside the book by Labrys (and I suppose Kosmos but I don't trust the author)

Debunks of modern Hellenic Polytheist things people are claiming are ancient when they are modern

Anything that requires translation from ancient Greek to explain the concept because either no English language translation exists or more often the English translation leaves out significant valuable information for religious practice.

Explanations of ancient texts and their context

Epithet explanations

Explanations of various Theoi beyond the "God of ___" one finds in website info blurbs

Ancient Greek Calendars

Book resource recommendations and often free access.

Website resources recommendations.

Journal articles & authors recommendations

If I didn't know the ancient standards and methods I would not be able to adapt anything at all and meet the "purpose"

........ literally being able to ask questions from people who have actual knowledge of the ancient religion and are willing to take time out of their day to answer

Reconstructionists do so much damn leg work in Hellenic Polytheism. So much. And so many people seem to refuse to acknowledge that. We take it all but never appreciate their approach. And many reconstructionists have been run off this website for no good reason.

I have seen a grand total of one person claiming to be recon who disparaged non-reconstructionists, and he was a xenophobic douche regardless. Beyond that I haven't had any recon disparage revivalism [edit: as in disparage the fact that it exists or claim its not Hellenic Polytheism]. Correction on information =/= hate. Pointing out something is modern =/= hate. Having different opinions =/= hate.

So to all the Hellenic Polytheist Reconstructionists: Thank you.

-dyslexic not audio proof read-

[hyuniemyunie]

Clinical Signs of Affection

gregory house x reader

nsfw

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

(ФωФ): domestic fluff, work day softness, kiss sneakery, annoying couple behavior, eventual sex, riding house into oblivion, afab reader. no pronouns mentioned, reader calls themselves a "hot housewife" but is referred to as houses "partner" no prns, just a mention of readers clit n hot housewife🙏🙏🙏🙏

tbh its mostly sfw, the nsfw comes at the end

i love this soggy old man sm.

i might repost this on ao3 too, i have ONE fic on ao3. its a house fic.

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･

You don’t technically belong here.

You’re not on the clock. You’re not on call. And the front desk nurse definitely gave you the stink eye when you flashed your visitor’s badge and breezed in like you owned the place.

But you do own one very specific thing in this hospital.

Well. One person.

One disaster of a man currently on his sixth hour of ignoring basic human needs like food, water, and common sense.

So you walk through the halls of Princeton-Plainsboro like you’re on a mission, lunchbox in one hand, water bottle in the other, and a familiar devil-may-care smile curling on your lips. You even wore the hoodie he pretends to hate—the one that’s technically his but smells like you now.

A few nurses smile at you. One intern stares like she’s seeing a unicorn. You’ve visited enough times that people know you, but still rarely enough that your appearance turns heads.

Especially when you burst into Diagnostics without knocking.

House doesn’t look up immediately. He’s lounging in his chair, feet on the desk, twirling a pen between his fingers with all the grace of a bored cat. His team—Chase, Cameron, and Foreman—are mid-bicker, voices overlapping, something about liver enzymes and blood cultures and, probably, the meaning of life.

“Tell me someone brought coffee,” House says without looking up.

You don’t say anything.

You just walk in, slow and deliberate, and place the lunchbox right on top of the folder in his lap.

And then the water bottle.

Then, you lean in and kiss the corner of his mouth.

“Hi,” you say.

There’s a pause.

Then he finally blinks, looks up, and sees you.

And for a moment, the mask slips.

His eyes soften—just a flicker—and his lips twitch into something less sardonic, more fond.

“I didn’t order a personal chef with boundary issues,” he says.

“No, but you’re getting one anyway.”

Chase coughs awkwardly.

Cameron pointedly avoids eye contact.

Foreman mutters, “Every damn time.”

You ignore them all and pull up a chair beside House like you own the place. Which, emotionally speaking, you do.

“You haven’t eaten,” you say, flipping the lunchbox open. “I know you haven’t eaten. And if I don’t shove food down your throat myself, you’ll subsist on nothing but ibuprofen and rage.”

House narrows his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitches.

“Romantic,” he says dryly.

You smile sweetly. “Chicken teriyaki. And a granola bar, because I know you forget dessert exists.”

He squints at you. “You’re enabling my childish avoidance of nutrition.”

“I’m preventing your body from eating itself.”

He eats.

Grumbling, mock-insulting your cooking, muttering about sodium content—but he eats. And when no one’s looking, you slip your hand under the table and lace your fingers with his.

He squeezes once, hard. Doesn't look at you.

But he holds on.

You give him his water bottle with your other hand and wait until he rolls his eyes and takes a sip, just to shut you up.

When his team clears out—some excuse about test results, but really, it’s because no one wants to witness this—he finally glances at you properly.

“You know,” he says slowly, like drawing out each word, “you could’ve stayed home. Slept. Watched trash TV. Painted your toenails. I’m not exactly prime lunchtime company.”

You lean in, pressing another kiss to his jaw. This one lingers.

“I know,” you murmur. “But I missed you. And I like bothering you.”

He grumbles something unintelligible, but his arm slips around your waist. Just a little.

Just enough.

“Also,” you add with a cheeky grin, “I thought you might appreciate a few stolen kisses between patient charts.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Are we in a 90s romcom now?”

You lean closer. “Only if you kiss me back when no one’s watching.”

And sure enough, when Cuddy passes by five minutes later, glaring through the glass with a look that screams Gregory, do your actual job, you’re sitting innocently beside him, lips kiss-bitten, cheeks warm, and House is chewing thoughtfully while looking suspiciously satisfied.

When the office empties again, he leans in and kisses you without a word.

Deep. Slow. Almost hesitant.

“You’re disgusting,” he mutters when you smirk.

“You’re making out with me in your workplace.”

“God help me.”

You grin, smug, resting your head on his shoulder. “Don’t need God. You’ve got me.”

He makes a show of groaning dramatically, but his fingers trail lazily up and down your arm. Like he can’t not touch you. Like he needs to be reminded you’re here, real, breathing beside him.

You stay like that until his pager buzzes again.

He sighs.

You steal one last kiss before he pulls away.

“Bring me leftovers tomorrow,” he calls over his shoulder as he limps out.

“Tomorrow’s your day off.”

“Exactly. I’ll be hungry.”

You roll your eyes fondly, but your heart is full, stupid and warm.

You’ll bring him lunch again tomorrow.

And sneak another kiss, too.

Because even if he never says it in those exact words, you know the truth:

He works best when he knows you’re somewhere nearby—keeping him grounded, fed, loved.

..And hydrated.

---

The moment House’s cane tapped against the hardwood of the front hall, you were already in position like a military strategist. He was home. Finally.

You’d spent all afternoon preparing. Not because you were the type of person to wait on him hand and foot—House would’ve teased the life out of you if that were the case—but because you knew the way his shoulders slumped just a little lower after back-to-back shifts, the way his sarcasm came out slightly more biting when he was actually running on fumes. And because, somewhere deep inside his perpetually grumpy self, he would never ask for what he needed.

So, you gave it to him anyway.

He barely got through the door when his nose twitched.

“Something smells edible,” he grunted, tossing his bag to the side and half-stumbling into the living room. “And here I was expecting the usual ‘eat air and cry’ menu.”

You poked your head out from the kitchen doorway, wiping your hands on a towel dramatically. “Excuse me, I’ll have you know I slaved over a hot stove for at least thirty minutes. That’s premium effort.”

“Mm. You must love me or something,” he said dryly, dragging himself toward the kitchen by the scent alone. “Poor taste.”

“Absolutely tragic,” you agreed, grinning.

When he got close, you could finally take him in—creased button-down under his blazer, the stubble that had grown longer over the last few days, the weary creases by his eyes even as he smirked. He smelled like hospital soap, exhaustion, and the faintest trace of antiseptic.

He leaned in without a word and buried his face in your shoulder, the side of his nose brushing your neck. You didn’t even hesitate—your arms were already around him, pressing him close, fingers slipping up under the back of his shirt to stroke over his skin.

“You always smell better than the hospital,” he mumbled, voice muffled.

“I should hope so. I don’t exactly rub against the ICU on the daily.”

“Might be missing out.”

You laughed against his hair, squeezing him tighter. “You’re disgusting.”

“Your disgusting. You love this disgusting. And speaking of things I love—what did you make me?”

You finally let him go with a dramatic sigh, motioning toward the table. “It’s all ready, Dr. House. Go sit. Or fall. Either works.”

He dropped into his chair with a groan of relief, rubbing his thigh out of habit while you set the table. Pan-seared steak, garlic mashed potatoes, roasted vegetables, and a tiny bit of something green you knew he’d push around but at least look at. You slid a beer beside his plate with a flourish.

“Who are you and what have you done with my partner?” he asked.

“I killed them. Now I’m the hot housewife.”

He took a sip of the beer, eyeing you over the rim. “You do realize this makes me want to skip dinner and go straight to dessert, right?”

You gave him a sly look and sat across from him. “Eat. Or I’m not letting you see the apron under this shirt.”

“You’re wearing an apron under the shirt?”

“No.”

He choked on a laugh, and something about the softness in his eyes when he finally started to eat made your chest squeeze. His sarcasm never went away, but when it was you, he let it soften at the edges. He let himself feel. That was more than he gave anyone else.

The meal passed with the usual banter—House throwing roasted carrots at you for being “a rabbit,” you threatening to “accidentally” pour gravy in his lap, both of you laughing like idiots over things that probably weren’t even funny. You cleared the table together, and when you were finally done, you leaned back against the sink and raised an eyebrow.

“Now,” you said, arms crossed. “Are you ready for me?”

He tilted his head, feigning innocence. “Was this all just foreplay?”

“House. I literally lit candles. Do I ever light candles?”

“Only when something’s on fire.”

You threw the dishtowel at him. “I ran a bath. And I’m letting you shower with me. Which is generous, because you’re grabby.”

“You say that like it’s a complaint.”

He slid off the counter and limped toward you slowly.

“You’re mine to be grabby with,” he said as his hand snuck around your waist, tugging you in. “Domesticity looks hot on you.”

You leaned up to kiss his jaw. “Shut up and get naked.”

—

Steam curled against the mirror, blurring the edges of your reflections as House stepped in behind you under the stream of hot water. You gasped slightly when the water hit your shoulders—he had cranked the temperature all the way up. He always liked it too hot, and you always let him win.

“You’ll boil me alive one day,” you mumbled, grabbing the soap.

“Mm. Tenderized and ready to eat.”

His hands slid around your waist again, but this time they didn’t stop. Palms flattened against your stomach, fingers dipping low, tracing lazy circles that made you lean back against him. He kissed your shoulder, then your neck, and the scruff of his beard scraped lightly against your skin. One of his hands moved up, cupping your chest shamelessly.

“House—”

“I’ve been dealing with blood, idiots, and Cuddy all day,” he muttered against your ear. “Let me feel something good.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t stop him, leaning back further into his chest as both of his hands roamed. Not rough—just possessive. Comforting.

You turned in his arms finally and kissed him slowly. He tasted like beer, toothpaste and exhaustion, and he kissed you back with the hunger of a man who’d been living on bitterness and hospital coffee.

“Love you,” you whispered.

His forehead pressed to yours. “You’re an idiot.”

You smiled. “Takes one to love one.”

He grinned, and the way he looked at you in that moment—naked, wet, sleepy, and grinning like a man in love—was worth every moment you’d spent waiting for him to come home.

---

It started, as it often did, with you waking up to something pressing insistently against your backside.

You were warm. Wrapped in soft sheets. Limbs tangled with House’s. The air smelled like morning and him—skin and shampoo and something vaguely medicinal. You didn’t even open your eyes at first. Just exhaled a breath and shifted slightly in bed.

That was when you felt it again.

Thick. Hard. Warm.

Pressed right up between your ass cheeks, like it was meant to be there.

You didn’t need to turn to know House was still fast asleep. His arm was slung over your waist, his breathing even, that low rasp of sleep just starting to fade into wakefulness. But his body was already several steps ahead of him.

Typical.

You smiled to yourself, still barely awake, and wriggled a little closer. That earned you a low grunt.

“…if you’re gonna grind on it, at least commit to the bit,” he muttered sleepily into your hair.

You snorted, turning in his arms until you were face to face, and yup—there was that morning glare. Eyelids half-closed, hair a mess, scruffy jaw, and the world’s most unrepentant erection trapped between you.

“Not my fault you’re pitching a tent,” you whispered, grinning as your hand slid under the covers to palm him through his boxers. “Wanna tell me what you were dreaming about?”

“Medical malpractice.”

“Sure it wasn’t about me in nothing but scrubs?”

He opened one eye, his mouth twitching upward. “You in scrubs is hot. You out of scrubs is hotter.”

You slipped your hand past the waistband and wrapped your fingers around him, slow and firm, and his breath caught, teeth dragging across his lip.

“I could help,” you said softly, giving him a lazy stroke. “Before breakfast.”

“Are you the breakfast?” he asked, voice still gravelly, eyes now glued to your mouth.

You leaned in and kissed him softly. His hand tangled in your hair, and when you shifted to straddle him, his hips arched up immediately into your palm.

“You’re gonna kill me,” he groaned.

“Mm. I’ll revive you. Doctor’s orders.”

You reached over to the nightstand and pulled out a condom from the drawer—because House was a bastard, but he was always careful. You opened the packet, and he watched you like he couldn’t look away, like the very sight of you half-naked in the morning light had short-circuited every sarcastic neuron in his brain.

You rolled it onto him with slow, practiced care, and he hissed softly, hands gripping your thighs. Once he was sheathed and you were slick enough to take him, you eased yourself down onto his cock with a breathless moan.

“Jesus,” he muttered, brow furrowed, “how are you this warm already?”

“Your fault,” you whispered, rocking your hips. “You started it.”

His hands found your waist, guiding your rhythm even though he barely had the strength to lift his head. His mouth fell open as you moved—slow, deep, lazy like Sunday mornings should be. No rush. No urgency. Just the warmth of skin, the roll of your hips, the softness of your hands on his chest, your fingers laced with his.

“God, I missed this,” he muttered.

“You had me last night.”

“Not like this.”

He let you ride him in silence for a few minutes—aside from the low, broken groans he couldn’t hold back when you clenched or angled just right. His thumb brushed your clit in lazy circles, coaxing pleasure from you with that same knowing touch he used in diagnostics—only now it was you he was unraveling.

When your moans started to climb and your thighs began to tremble, he bucked up once, hard, and you gasped.

“That’s it,” he whispered. “Come on. Come with me.”

You barely had time to nod before your orgasm hit, crashing through you in a wave of heat and release. You clung to him as you came, shuddering, and he wasn’t far behind—his grip tightened, and he thrust up one final time as he spilled into the condom with a low groan, forehead pressed to your chest.

You collapsed against him, both of you breathless, your bodies tangled and sticky with sweat and satisfaction.

For a while, neither of you moved.

Then, House grunted. “I think I broke a rib.”

“You’re such a baby.”

“You rode me like I was a prize bull.”

You laughed and kissed his shoulder, nuzzling against his neck. “Worth it.”

He reached up, brushed your hair back gently, and kissed your forehead with surprising tenderness.

“Definitely worth it.”

---

After a shared shower—filled more with sleepy kisses and soft touches than anything dirty—you both ended up back in the kitchen, dressed in soft pajamas, your hair still damp, House’s limp a little worse than usual.

“I blame you,” he said, sipping coffee while flipping a pancake with surprising skill. “I’m gonna need my cane just to sit down today.”

“You always need your cane.”

“Not the point.”

You leaned against the counter, watching him. He was still bleary-eyed, still grumbling, but there was something in the way he moved—lighter. More at ease.

When you handed him a plate and he brushed his fingers over yours, you smiled. He didn’t say thank you. He didn’t need to.

It was all there in the way he looked at you over his coffee mug.

Grumpy. Sated. Home.

And as far as mornings went?

You couldn’t think of a better one.

[anntejinia]

Destiel egg!mpreg au but instead of the old fashioned way, it's Cas's grace undergoing mitosis amoeba style and slowly splitting off from him to form a new angel (because that's just how new angels are made here) but this has never happened to Castiel before, and hasn't happened since he himself was created, so team free will has no idea wtf is happening to him and why he's just so tired and sick and hungry all the time these days. Their resident angel is dying, they think, and there's nothing they can do to help him

additional thoughts below

Eventually an older angle (an ally to Da Boys) shows up, dealers choice, and is just like "yooo it's your turn man thats wiillddd, we gotta get you up to heaven like stat tho" and team free will is just "??? no ???" I have no idea at what point in the show this takes place (if it takes place within canon at all) but just know Cas is on the no fly list for heaven so he can't do that, and new angel's like "an angel's never split within a vessel before, I have no idea what this is going to do to you or the fledgling, and besides, you really need to get up to The Garden to lay this egg so it can mature properly" and team free will is "???????" even more now because egg?? garden?? what??

when an angels' grace splits, the new grace is sealed within an egg like casing for a while as it mutates into it's own form, and is kept safe in God's garden where it will then hatch and quickly develop into an "adult" angel and sever all ties to its host/parent. All angels, regardless of "parentage" refer to each other as brother or sister or what have you, and God is always their father, that's just the way it's always worked. But now you've got Cas, who's grace has decided it's Time, but is unable to access heaven without being detained and is stuck on earth in a vessel, and literally no one knows how to handle the situation

and so when the time comes for the egg to manifest, it just kinda starts,,, growing inside him, like a tumor, and now Cas is like Really going through it, but other angel (who has stuck around out of abject curiosity) seems fairly confident that once the egg has finished growing, it can more or less be safely removed from Cas. yada yada about a month later that happens and now Cas has this egg to look after, and though Cas the angel would feel no paternal feelings towards this egg, Cas the angel living in the human body does, it's a bizarre dichotomy of feelings inside him.

He takes looking after his egg very seriously, and oddly enough, Dean (because this is still a Destiel au) has also taken an interest in keeping the egg safe

(it's a piece of Castiel's grace that's split off, and Castiel is kind, and devoted and earnest, how could this that has come from him be anything but that as well?)

the egg is fairly reactive, and seems to give off vibes that it can understand the people around it, when they touch or speak to it, and it has a tendency to glow ever so slightly when it seems to be in a good mood, which is often

so you have destiel co-parenting this egg for the next four months or so, along with some mild assistance from Sam and whoever else happens to be around with them at the time, until it's time for it to hatch, and this is the real kicker, because what's going to happen now? what will it hatch into? what are the repercussions of not having been matured in The Garden? of being raised with "parents"? will whatever comes out of it feel anything towards castiel at all or will it forget it's parent like all angels do?

so yeah this is the au I've been rotating in my brain for the last three days but won't do anything with, just needed to exorcise it from my body lmao

[blackknight-kai]

DO walks in on you when you change your clothes and sees IT. the nip piercings. He's flustered, mortified, torn between "do you need medical attention" and "holy shit you are nakey?!?"... maybe a little "did you do it to yourself? you insane?"

Wukong... yeah he's seen it all. now come here and let's play baby ♥

Nipple Piercings??? Yes!

Hi hello long time no see…..🫠

So! Yes 🤣 DO poor shy peanut that he is, is NOT ready for that first peek. Nope. Never in a million years would it cross his mind that you’d have something like THAT. His body is taking a full “screenshot” and his mind going blue screen, dial up noises 🤣.

Wukong version below with some small HCs NSFW below the cut.

Destined One:

This poor guy is way too shy to outright cross your boundaries over something like watching you undress, while monkey culture dictates a certain amount of openness and so nude bodies aren’t new to him during grooming and washing, most of his kind wearing sometimes little clothing in general depending on individual preferences. His human companion had uprooted that unbothered uncaring mindset he’d previously had. Not that he isn’t interested, oh no he is very interested in his human. Yes HIS human. They’d been the one to awaken a side of him he genuinely wasn’t aware of and that didn’t exist until they came into his life.

So he’s definitely interested and curious, many nights he spends stuck in his thoughts about them and even his dreams are plagued by the shape of their body under the clothes they favor. He’s respectful to a fault though. Never making any unwanted advances or stepping past the threshold of inappropriate with them - (no matter where they are be it courting phase or before).

Walking in on you is entirely an accident and he’s instantly embarrassed and feels guilty about it. If he had the strength he would definitely turn on his heel and profusely apologize later. Unfortunately, he’s weak to you. And his knees grow almost wobbly while his legs root themselves to the floor.

Wide eyed, heart skyrocketing he stares, completely frozen. His whole body having a reaction the sight of your bare skin on display in such a new way, one he thinks heavily about in private. Any freckles, moles, scars, and even the slight goosebumps on your skin doesn’t go unnoticed by his sharp gaze. His mouth goes dry and his face starts to heat up, in face his whole body temp rises and his fur? It ripples across his skin, barely noticeable to the eye but oh does he feel it. Even his tail is frozen, other than the tip which is twitching.

Your tantalizing skin was enough to unmake him. But the glint of metal on your chest is what does him in.

Air? Yeah he didn’t need that. Not with your bare chest giving him more life than he’s ever needed. The little metal, are those bars?, pierced through your pretty nipples causing them to peak up just a little has his jaw falling open slowly, he can’t take his dark eyes off of them. Who in their right mind has metal stabbed through their flesh THERE of all places? That HAD to be painful….right? Do they hurt now? Did someone do mutilate you? Does he need to murder someone? Do you need salve?

A spiral of thoughts runs through his head but the more he stares the hotter he feels. It’s almost like he doesn’t fit in his own skin, a restlessness he’s never experienced pulls at him. Focused eyes catch the instant moment your nipples start to harden under his gaze, making the sight even more fascinating and unconsciously he flicks the tip of his tongue against the roof of his mouth, drool pooling over his tongue as he begins to wonder about your taste.

His gut tightens and he starts to feel much too hot under his protective clothes and armor. His cock js filling out in his pants at the sight of you naked but it’s throbbing at the little gems on your nipples, contrasting with his partial concern about your body. He doesn’t even register that you haven’t tried to cover yourself but his eyes flick up to your face as you shift, fully facing your chest his way.

Sucking in a sharp breath he’s about to apologize, use every ounce of self discipline he has to leave, and seclude himself somewhere that he can grip himself tight and shamefully imagine sucking those little peaks into his mouth and feeling the metal piercing roll and brush against his tongue and teeth. Would tugging on them with his teeth feel good to you? What would they feel like when he pinches them or flicks them with his claws?

“Do you like them?”

The soft tentative question takes him by surprise, he swallows thickly and feels the heat between his legs pulse heavily - his face reddening further and eyes widening as you lift your hands and brush them below your nipples, like your presenting them to him, no…for him.

Does he like them? He was in love with the idea of your nipples a long time ago. Now that he’s seen them? And with those little bars in them? He’s becoming obsessed with them faster than anything else he’s ever enjoyed, curiosity and minor concern a jumbled mess in his head but he’s barely able to think past “How beautiful”.

Once he gathers his courage - you better believe this shy peanut is going to explore your chest. Hands, mouth, even using his tail to tickle them and stimulate them. Destined One might be shy but he is courageous and so very curious about the sounds you’ll make as he explores you and what you taste and feel like. Might definitely be tender and tentative with your piercings until you teach/he learns how you like them played with.

If he just walks in and sees you and that’s the end of it (for now), he’s definitely thinking about what he saw CONSTANTLY. Might be awkward as hell around you and takes a lot of “personal” space to relieve some tension.

Sun Wukong:

The Great Sage has been alive for far too long not to have seen some shit in his life. So nipple piercings? That wouldn’t phase him in the slightest.

The thing that does phase him?

YOU have them.

*If he doesn’t notice from your clothing shifting Wukong is very pleasantly and happily surprised.*

While (in my opinion) he isn’t super sexually charged YOU awoke some dormant instincts in him. Your scent always soothing him while making his mouth water and more often than not warming him in ways he’d made fun of others for in the past when they went stupid over a potential mate or bed partner. He may not be like Zhu Bajie but Wukongs eyes have wandered over your form many many times. Tentatively at first while he got used to his awakened urges but over time he’s more comfortable with them and his eyes drink you in any chance he gets.

No matter if you’re courting or it’s pre getting together Wukong has always remained respectful towards you, never caring himself about his own nudity or that of others - but he always respects your need for privacy. He’s confident and flirts with his intended but consent will always be key for him. While he is hungry to be closer to you he can wait until you’re ready.

He’d had his suspicions about it for a while, having noticed maybe here or there that something was slightly different about your chest - maybe they’d peaked up when you were cold or your clothing shifted just right. Since the first time he thought he glimpsed something Wukong had made it a game for himself, always wondering but never knowing for sure if you’ve got a fun little secret.

The day he accidentally walks in on you while you’re fresh out of a wash and changing is one to remember though. His breath catches and his heart hammers quickly in his chest, attempting to burst out of his rib cage. You’re just as stunning as he’d thought and more so and he’s thankful you don’t have sharp hearing because he can’t stop the soft purr vibrating in his chest. Slightly damp skin on display Wukong imprints the sight of you into his mind with just that single moment. The shiny glints on your chest has his mouth going dry, he’d been right after all. In that instant his mind is flooded with thoughts about them, his cock almost painfully hardens at the overwhelming sight and thoughts - but being as old as he is he immediately glances up to your face, not as struck dumb as a young monkey. Wukong knows he should turn around and walk out, he most definitely doesnt want to but he’s not that much of an asshole as to encroach on your privacy like this. Your expression tells him everything he needs to know though and a slow confident grin grows on his face.

Wukong takes his time, dragging his eyes down your body and when he comes to your nipples his mouth floods. Licking his lips he takes in the way your nipples harden for him and the way the metal bars shine and glint in the soft light. He imagines setting his hands on your hips and sliding his palms up your sides, feeling your warm skin as he climbs his way to your chest and the treasure he can’t wait to play with. The thought of his thumbs rolling over and circling your nipples, the click of the metal against his claws and the image of bend down to suckle one into his mouth has Wukongs breath growing heavier.

He will flick his tongue over his sharp k-9s and smirk confidently at you, tail swishing behind him. beckoning you over and doing exactly what he’d imagined Wukong will be priding himself on finding out just how you like those little gems played with. How rough or soft you like him to tug on them with fingers and teeth, how you sigh and arch into his kisses and when he brushes his lips across your nipples and tastes the piercings. Your moans letting him know exactly what you need and never letting you feel insecure about them for a second.

General Head Canons:

- [ ] 100% Purrs/rumbles while seeing them/playing with them. Goes a little glassy eyed and hyper focus’s on them a lot when they are in sight. He has a bit of an oral fixation so his mouth is always ready to play with your nipple piercings.

- [ ] You flash him and he goes a little stupid and distracted - some basic instinctual monkey sounds, eyes following you (he will follow you too) and his body language is that of a ‘I’m gonna pounce’ predator. So use this power wisely- because while it will stall him and distract, it also gets monkeys engine revved. *I actually have something like this in a fic of mine so look forward to that 🤣*

- [ ] Both monkeys would absolutely get you replacement jewelry for any piercings you have to match THEM and show ownership/partnership. It’s a point of pride for them. (Of course they get you stuff you like) seeing you wear jewelry they got you and especially for them? One happy monkey. So expect some extravagant nipple rings and jewelry. And depending on how kinky you like it, well….he’d definitely add in some fun accessories.

- [ ] As above - accessories, it may be stuff where he can gently tug them like a chain or he add in toys to stimulate even more. Depending on your kink and comfort level.

- [ ] Also, I’d expect that once he knows about them you’re going to be teased. Monkey is cheeky, so purposely brushing against them or his tail flicking them as he walks by, unseen by everyone else but fully felt by you.

- [ ] Since he knows they are there he would definitely stare at them 🤣 watching if your nipples harden or how the raised skin/piercing shifts under clothes.

- [ ] Depending on what you personally like, monkey is all for being soft or rough - since everyone’s sensitivity is different and usually these piercings heighten it he’s fully aware of your reactions. That said - he again may be cheeky and if you’re into it overstim you or throw in some rougher pinches, nips and flicks/tugs. He gets off on surprising you and making you feel the absolute best.

- [ ] Loves the feeling of them in his mouth 💯💯

- [ ] Loves playing with them as he’s fucking you, enjoys the glint of them and making you twitch and squirm.

- [ ] Also loves playing with them as he uses his mouth between your legs, the added stimulation for you fires him up.

- [ ] Likes if you match them to clothing or to what he’s wearing, always wondering which jewelry you have in today.

- [ ] As mentioned earlier has a bit of an oral fixation so I could see him lifting your shirt at night (piercings or not) and kissing/sucking on your nipples before he cuddles with you for sleep. Just enjoys having your nipples in his mouth when he can. Not in a “mommy” way unless you’re into that. (No kink shame here).

- [ ] Also will most cuddle up to you and stick his hands under your shirt and play with them when relaxing - not always in a ‘I wanna have sex’ way but enjoys touching them and playing with your nipples and piercings - same with his mouth.

Overall monkey is in love and will touch them as much s you let him / will convince you to let him have at them 🤣 with your full consent but he’s kinda needy so…

[multiheadcanons]

SHOWER WITH THE MERCS BUT ITS NOT SEXUAL AT ALL.

scout: in and out in about fifteen minutes. he goes from top to bottom. hair, face, teeth if he’s really running low on time, pits, crotch, ass, feet because he doesn’t want nasty ugly feet. he steps out, he towels off, he brushes his hair and teeth if he hasn’t done so already, then he puts his hat on and fucks his hair up anyway. there is enough hot water for him, but he opts for a cold or lukewarm shower. wakes him up faster. uses an axe-equivalent soap, and somehow it lasts all day. much better later in the day as it weakens. showers daily.

soldier: in and out in five minutes. face, pits, crotch, ass. everything else gets rinsed unless he’s absolutely filthy. unscented bar soap and a rag. he’s definitely getting clean, he just smells like himself. of which there is always an undercurrent of metal and gunpowder following him. especially on his hands. it wouldn’t kill him to get a cologne, but he doesn’t reek, so nobody actually cares. he generally smells pretty okay! showers daily.

pyro: pyro has their own bathroom, which allots them a lot more time to actually wash their body. uses softly scented, if not unscented wash for sensitive skin, and a thick, acidic smelling lotion. they take a long time in maintaining the focus to wash themselves, so they’re thankful to have the privacy to do it. and it’s easier to do in a tub than standing. it’s a slow process, but it gets done. they take a bath or shower about once a week.

demo: showers every other day. takes about fifteen minutes if he’s not washing his hair. uses a thick, shea butter based soap. leaves him very soft, and the smell of his soap leaves a trail. you could sniff him out like a bloodhound if need be, at least before battle. takes unbelievably hot showers, so hot it steams up the entire bathroom of the defense wing. this only deters heavy, who takes cold showers, but heavy is usually done in the bathroom by the time demo gets to the showers.

heavy: a real everything shower. heavy’s a big guy with a lot of body and a lot of skin, and he takes about twenty minutes, thirty minutes if he’s really savoring the shower. and the water is ice cold. uses a lightly scented lavender tallow bar soap. it leaves a very nice, very faint smell, that mixes well with his natural scent. heavy doesn’t have any hair that actually requires washing, so he uses that time to really scrub everything. he showers daily unless he’s running late for the day.

engineer: engineer doesn’t shower in the morning. he greatly prefers showering after battle. he takes hot showers, so he can relax his muscles. at least slightly. since he’s the only member of the defense classes who showers later in the day, unless battle was an absolute wreck, he can just relax in the steam in the bathroom until he’s actually ready to exit and face the chill of the base. he is never ready to exit and face the chill of the base. uses a heavy weight, almost smoky smelling soap. it doesn’t leave any real smell on him, so he just ends up smelling clean.

medic: since the doctor has his own bathroom and shower in the infirmary, the doctor is never in a rush, nor does he feel a need to save water for anyone. he stays posted in the shower for a minimum of forty five minutes. about thirty of those is him falling asleep standing, leaned against the wall as the hot water hits him. another twenty is him asleep on the floor of the shower, curled into as tight a ball he can manage under the water. the rest is actually showering. uses a heavy eucalyptus and menthol soap, so wherever he goes you almost feel cold as you breathe in. it mixes well with the underscent of blood.

sniper: snipes has a lukewarm shower in the camper, and he uses it three to four times a week, depending on how much time he has. if he’s got to relocate to the inside of the base, he uses that time to use spy’s bathroom. technically it’s not spy’s bathroom. it’s the support wing’s bathroom. it’s just that spy is the only support member to use it unless sniper is in the base. this didn’t stop spy from pimping out that bathroom. snipes’ shower time doubles when he uses spy’s bathroom. and he leaves the bathroom steamed, feeling chipper and smelling great. like leather and burnt sugar. this infuriates spy, and spy can’t say anything about it.

spy: spy is so serious about his bath time. usually something he only does in the dark of the night, spy bathes. he doesn’t like to stand and shower if he can lay down and almost drown in the water. he refills the tub at least twice with water so hot it is actually cooking him. he leaves the bathroom with steam rising off his body and his skin red. he has many kinds of soap, many kinds of shampoo and conditioner, many kinds of colognes, and if sniper is using his bathroom (because it is his bathroom, nobody else uses it, he’s just nice enough to let sniper use it) he stops sniper for a smell test, so he doesn’t use the same products. normally smells like oud and wisteria. he bathes daily.

[lipstickreptile]

Hayffie Edition ♡

Im going to answer them all even if you didn't ask for it😁

1. Haymitch definitely. Post-war it's pretty much mostly withdrawals in the beginning and then a lot of man-flu.

2. I was unsure at first but then I imagined Effie in her high heels in district 12. I'm sure she must have sprained it and as a result Haymitch had to buy her comfortable shoes, sneakers and rain boots. (Hot pink ofc)

3.

4. This might be oddly specific but I imagine them as a couple that plays poker together.

5. Depends how you see it. I think Effie could have people over at all times of the day and would love it. While Haymitch likes to be left alone more. Sexual privacy? I don't think he cares. "There's someone on the other side of the door? How is that my problem?"

6. Hehehehe. Neither😂😂😂

7. Effie would make Haymitch go to the airport 6 hours early

8. Personally I imagine Haymitch popping the question midts of bickering about something.

9. I can imagine Effie has a whole routine she has to do before falling asleep while Haymitch can doze off in the middle of anything.

10. That's sad.

11. It's Miss High Maintenance and Mr. "I like maintaining you"

12. Bickering is their foreplay.

13. I think Effie is very quick to make the effort to apologize. Haymitch knows he is wrong right away but takes a few rounds with himself before he goes to have the talk.

14. Haymitch is in love with a very stereotypical city girl. She has to learn

15. See Sunrise on the Reaping

16. Personally, I don't think anything happened sexually or romantically at least the first 10 years after Haymitch's games. But they were definitely doing each other by the first movie. Just basing it on vibes🤭 Romantically I don't think they had the option to let themselves really realize it before the 3rd quarter quell.

17. He will never admit it but the fancy Capitol shampoo makes his hair shiny and smooth.

18. I think the newest book made me realize Effie is much more aware than we might think she is. I also think Haymitch has a weak spot for his girl so😄

OTP questions #2:

1. Who gets sick more often? 2. Who gets injured more often? 3. Who’s more jealous and posessive? 4. What do they do together for fun? 5. Who values their privacy more? 6. Who’s more responsible? 7. Who’s better at time management? 8. Who pops the question? 9. Who falls asleep quicker? 10. Does one of them avoid affection? 11. Who’s more high maintenance? 12. Who starts most conflicts? 13. Who apologizes first after a fight? 14. Who takes care of the pets? 15. How did they meet? 16. How long have they been together? 17. Who uses the other’s shampoo? 18. Who’s more gullible?