#its not due very shortly

[godisdeadiatehim]

Science side of tumblr, pls tell me about neurotoxins

[dirtytransmasc]

I hope we get a scene of Alicent with Aegon's body. If her son is damned to die, if she is damned to spiral into insanity, if she is to lose her life too the grief, let me see her with his body.

let her hold her baby in her arms one more time. let her wipe the blood that poured from his mouth and nose as he died. let her run her fingers over the viscous burns that adorn his skin. let her fix his hair. let her bathe him with a cloth as she had when he was a babe. let her kiss his cheek, his forehead, his hair, his hands. let her lay her head against him, hugging him like she had failed to do for years.

he was her firstborn and yet, her heart was still beating and his was not, she was not yet cold in her grave, no, no her son was cold, her flesh was warm, too warm. he was her baby, her son, the boy she tried so hard to protect, who had loved even when it hurt, who she had stood in front of a dragon for. she loved him, the very bones of him, and now he was dead.

let her lose her mind right there, in that room, still clinging to her body, one that's too cold, too still, too quiet. let her scream out to the gods, damning them, cursing them for taking her eldest son, amongst everything else in her life.

I want her to drive away anyone who tries to take him from her, forcing the silent sisters or whoever would be left to deal with his body at that point. let her curse and spit and claw at anyone who comes too close.

she would stay there for hours, reflecting on her memories of him. maybe she talks to him or hums a lullaby until she finally loses her battle with what remains of her consciousness and sanity, falling still against the table.

she dreams of Aegon, she dreams of the life she wish she could have provided, the life she had tried so hard to give him. a life where he was safe, a life where she had been a better mother, a life where she didn't need to live in and impose fear up on her children. maybe if she had tried hard enough he would still be alive, she'll think as she floats in the space between consciousness and unconsciousness.

she'll wake in plain chambers she only partly recognizes, she'll learn of her sons lackluster and sparsly accompanied burning, she'll learn her son was gone and she was alone. there won't be much of her left to care. she just continues dreaming, dreaming of her dead children and spiraling to madness until her broken heart finally gives out.

[my previous post inspired this, cause all I can think about now is Alicent mourning her son and its gonna put me in an early grave]

[beeapocalypse]

do think the most effective way to solidify the prophet+the very heavy handed metaphor going on w them is to make it so they are COMPLETELY just possessing their own corpse with no supernatural abilities or anything but also. i want to get a bit goofy with it still :(

[bloomeng]

This is my official Batfam Magical Girl AU Masterpost (everyone clapped)

(image updated: 9/21/24)

I’m going to do a brief overview and then go into more details for those interested.

Bruce being from old money (and apparently being connected to Camelot) inherited a mysterious mineral with unknown properties. In its raw form it’s very unassuming, but when cut like gemstones and added to accessories it can be harnessed into a tool. By altering the mineral into a wearable item it allows the magic within to be channeled. The magic of the mineral connects with its wielder to create an outfit and (typically) a weapon. These outfits do not grant the wearer special abilities outside of the transformation and the weapon, but when worn the wearer is granted (what is basically) hammerspace and a nearly impenetrable outfit. The uniform granted is not something they can alter the appearance of but will change gradually overtime to reflect how the wielder has grown.

This mineral will henceforth be known as Arcanium. It operates on Kryptonite logic in that it’s— allegedly— super rare but also shows up whenever the plot needs it. (I’m aware it shares a name with a card game, but I wanted my Kryptonite spoof)

Martha Wayne unknowingly started the cycle by turning— what she thought was a rare gemstone— into a brooch. She died shortly after having it made and Alfred held onto it in her memory. Like canon Bruce goes on his journey of self-exploration to train. When he comes back he enacts his plan the way he does in Batman: Year One, where he goes out in basically just make-up, and it goes poorly. He wanders his manor trying to formulate a strategy and is drawn to his parent’s room and finds his mother’s brooch. Cue the first magical girl transformation. From there he alters the brooch to fit his bat aesthetic and the Batman Brooch is born.

Dick comes into his life the same way as canon. Bruce takes him in as a ward, Dick tries to track down Zucco on his own, etc. Bruce decides to use the other raw sample of Arcanium to turn into a second magical artifact. He lets Dick pick the theme, and thus the Robin Pendant is born. The rest is history.

(Before I continue I want to warn that I’m making shit up as I go, so some of this is subject to change as I move forward.)

The Robin Pendant is passed down from Robin to Robin. Each Robin got their own unique look while using it. Following canon, Dick and Bruce have their falling out and Dick gives up the Robin Pendant in a moment of anger. In this au I think Dick, not having the pendant to fall back on, tries to lead a vigilante-free life, but of course falls back into it. During a fight he somehow manages to stumble across Arcanium in its raw form. Recognizing it he takes it with him. Like Nightwing: Year One he has his conversation with Superman and decides to become his own hero. Using his knowledge of Arcanium from his years with Bruce he creates his own magical artifact and becomes Nightwing.

This is a good place to interject that I’m not changing any of their hero names. I was asked about it a couple times due to the caption, “Red Bow & Sailor Nightwing” on my Dick and Jason designs. It was just a silly caption, because I didn’t want to simply state “Jason and Dick Magical Girl au.” But being serious, I don’t really see a reason to change their names, with the exception of maybe Red Hood, seeing as I didn’t give him a red hood. My au operates on Sailor Moon logic where despite the lack of masks no one recognizes them, and it’s just vaguely explained by magic. I think it would be funny if Bruce chose to wear a mask anyway because he’s that paranoid, but we’ll see when I actually design him. Anyway point is Red Hood is lacking a red hood, maybe he secretly has a red hood on his jacket or maybe he really does go by Red Bow, I’ll leave that up to interpretation.

Arcanium does not just accidentally appear. At the end of the day it’s still a mineral and it’s not sentient, but the magic has an element of “the wand chooses the user.” It’s not so much a “chosen one thing,” so much as the magic can sense intention. It doesn’t care about the morality of the user, the magic is more seeking a symbiotic connection. (Meaning yes rogues can in fact wield artifacts.) Simply put, it wants a host that will be able to wield it. In its raw form the magic is dormant but it seeks to be… not dormant, so when it finds those who actually have the potential to create an artifact and use it, it reveals itself. It was not a coincidence that Martha had the inclination to have the brooch made, it was not a coincidence that Bruce was drawn to his parent’s room, and it was not a coincidence that Dick found Arcanium in the alleyway.

Each of the Bats have their origin moments with their own magical artifacts. I don’t have the whole timeline down, but I will say there was a lot of drama between Tim and Damian, because Tim was forced to hand over the pendant. Even though he technically relinquished it, emotionally the connection wasn’t severed. No one was sure if the transition would work, but Arcanium responds to whoever needs it more and therefore who will use it more. Like canon, Tim is having an awful time during that era. On top of all of it he’s had his title stripped from him and he can’t even argue because if it wasn’t the right move the pendant wouldn’t have responded to Damian. Dick tries to comfort him by telling him that Arcanium will appear for him when he’s ready, but Tim is furious and impatient. So like a well-adjusted person he decides he’s going to engineer his own magical artifact artificially. It goes as well as his attempt to clone Kon does. It’s not until Tim starts to get back on his feet that Arcanium presents itself to him. My thinking is that while Arcanium finds its users when they need it most, Tim’s case is abnormal. His acquisition of the pendant was unconventional from the start since he showed up and demanded to take on the Robin role. Arcanium is drawn to individuals who will actually use its properties. Tim tends to rely more on his own detective work, which renders the pendant’s properties pretty moot. Especially when he’s going off the deep end, he becomes a hermit meaning a) he wouldn’t really need/use Arcanium’s properties and b) he inadvertently limited his own chances of stumbling across it “in the wild.”

In a similar vein I believe Barbara’s journey is abnormal in that she forged her own Batgirl artifact that operates a little differently than the others, seeing as she made it without Bruce’s influence. After the accident she shelved it, maybe she passed it down to Cass, but eventually she gets it back. She created the Oracle identity without it, and for a long time the Batgirl artifact is something she avoids using, until she gets the idea to combine it with her computer to create a magic computer… sort of. She gets a uniform that is basically connected to the computer.

Going back to Damian needing the Robin Pendant more, its reaction to his acquisition was unique. As I mentioned previously the suits typically provide a weapon, well Damian is the exception. Unlike all the other Robin’s Damian didn’t need more weapons in his life, what he needed was guidance. For the first time the pendant granted Damian a magical animal guardian, which is how he gets Alfred the Cat in this au. Despite being an animal lover Damian is extremely pissed at this development. He wanted dual swords or a scarier animal at least. He can’t formally communicate with Alfred the Cat but he understands him intrinsically, though Alfred the Cat seems to be able to understand human speech somewhat. Only Damian seems to be able to truly understand Alfred the Cat. (Cue the antics of his siblings trying to figure out what the cat means or trying to control him in any capacity.) Besides being an animal, Alfred the Cat is also unique in that he doesn’t dissipate when Damian isn’t in uniform the way that the weapons do. Like the weapons he can be summoned by the pendant, but he seems to have existed prior to the pendant’s creation. (I’m toying with the idea that while in uniform, the cat would also get some sort of uniform.)

Before I get into Duke and his abnormalities, I want to address the Speedsters in this au. It’ll make sense after.

So the Flash. I want to say I don’t know if I will get around to creating full designs for them. I do have plans for Bart and maybe Wally, but I have determined how I want their mechanics to operate in the context of the au. Not all the heroes in this au are “magical girls,” in fact I’ve made the executive decision that you have to be human to wield an artifact. Arcanium may have magic in it, but it doesn’t grant its user magical abilities beyond the uniform itself. The speedsters retain their canon origins, hit by lighting blah blah blah, only with one key difference: they had Arcanium on them when they were hit. Instead of engineering an artifact Arcanium fused with their bodies granting them powers. I want to keep the magic transformation aspect (because it’s not a magical girl au without it), so instead of using a physical artifact as a channel for their powers, it’s instead the act of transforming that serves as a gateway to their speed abilities.

To me it was always important to maintain Batman’s identity of not having super powers and having to rely on engineering, which is why the Batfam have to physically build their artifacts. In a similar way I wanted to retain the integrity of the Flash’s identity of being meta but also still human. Which brings me back to Duke. I know in canon that Duke inherited his abilities, but for the sake of the au I’ve decide that he either had an accident when he was young in which traces of Arcanium fused with him or his parents had it in them and he inherited it from them, but regardless it’s less potent, but operates similar to the Speedsters. For years he couldn’t fully transform or use his powers and it wasn’t until— with Bruce’s guidance— he was able to create an artifact that allowed him to channel his abilities and transform. Even though he is a meta I wanted him to still have some of those Batfam qualities in there.

But what about the Superfam? They’re not human so how do their transformations work? The answer is simple: They’re not “magical girls.” At least not real ones, they’re faking. They’re not human (Kon and Jon are technically half human but they still get their abilities from their Kryptonian DNA), and thus cannot forge a connection with Arcanium. Truthfully I’m about to get silly— even sillier than this au already is— but I have decided that Clark is a fake artifact wielder. I like the idea that Batman has been operating longer than Superman has, so when Clark decided to become a hero in his own right his only example of how to style himself was from the bat themed vigilante, who might as well be a cryptid, operating out of Gotham. Only blurry pictures of him existed, so Clark designed his outfit based on his Kryptonian origins and Batman’s aesthetics. He had no idea about the existence of Arcanium or how it worked. This is also why Kon’s design looks so much like his canon outfit with a few magical girl elements (and definitely not because I think the lines in his canon suit already lend themselves well to a magical girl aesthetic and didn’t want to change much). Later when he gets to know Batman more he learns about the transformations, to which he panics and invents his own transformation using Kryptonian tech (ex: MAWS’s transformation). For years Bruce goes crazy trying to figure out Arcanium’s effects on aliens and if it grants them abilities on top of the ones they’re born with, and if Clark has plans to use it as a weapon, and how he managed to forge the connection in the first place— Clark comes clean as a fake once they reveal their identities to each other.

Side tangent but I find it hilarious that Green Lanterns are— by technicality— already “magical girls,” considering they’re granted magical accessories that give them powers and transform their clothing. Hal is very clear with the JL that he is nothing like Batman and constantly feels the need to assert that he is not a magical artifact wielder. The non-human members of the team still lump them together anyway.

Things I haven’t figured out:

- what each of the batfam’s weapons are

- what each of the magical artifacts are

- what to refer to magical artifact wielders as

Stepping outside the canon(?) lore of the au for a minute, obviously I’m redesigning DC characters using inspiration from a genre, because that’s what “magical girl” is. It’s a genre. This is why I refer to it in quotes and don’t call them magical boys, because I am always referring to it as a genre, which isn’t a gendered thing. However, in universe they wouldn’t call themselves magical anything, the same way the characters of Sailor Moon don’t refer to themselves as magical girls, but rather Sailor Scouts. As of right now I’m sort of just referring to them as artifact wielders, but I feel like Bruce would come up with a better name. On a similar note, throughout this whole thing I’ve been referring to Arcanium in it’s wearable state as an artifact. I don’t know if that’s the best term, but I can’t think of anything better for the generalized form of Arcanium outside of it’s raw state. For now I guess it will be “artifacts” and “artifact wielders.”

- how the wonderfam fits into this

I really can’t think of a reason why Wonder Woman would be a “magical girl” in this au. She was born with abilities, she’s not human, and I can’t see her altering her uniform to match the aesthetic. A transformation would just be a waste of time for her. I could to see maybe Cassie or Donna wanting to match with their respective teams, and perhaps maybe that’s why they would alter their uniforms? All I know is I want see Tim, Kon, Bart and Cassie as a matching “magical girl set.”

Fin… for now.

[I’m just going to put this here preemptively, because I’ve gotten messages about turning my au into fics or tiktok skits. You’re free to use this lore HOWEVER you MUST credit me not just for the designs but for the creation of the lore. I’ve put a lot of time and thought into this and I love that people love it, so I just ask for recognition. If you want to make something that’s inspired by my designs or loosely based on my au, just a simple credit for the inspiration is fine. You’re free to change things this is just how my own au operates. Regardless I would prefer to be tagged so that people can find me but also because I’d love to see other’s work.]

Current designs:

[kissitbttr]

a very tired miguel who gets home from work and gets babied by his woman

-

It's close to 9pm as you're lying on your bed. keeping your focus on the book you're reading, one that you failed to keep as a part of your routine due to your busy schedule with work. being a fashion designer has it's perks but it also has its dark sides too. especially when it comes to dealing with snobby ass clients

as you are about to flip to another page, you hear the front door opened. keys rattling against the ceramic bowl with a loud sigh follows after. a soft smile appears on your face soon as you realize who it is

“miguel? Is that you?” you softly call out your husband’s name while putting the book down.

"si, mi amor" he appears shortly by the doorway. your tall and handsome fiancee adorned in an unbuttoned white shirt that showcase a bit of his chest and paired with black trousers. a simple work attire but never fail to make your knees wobble. the sight could put any Greek Gods known to a man to shame.

your heart breaks a little seeing how tired he looks. his eye-bags are coming off too strong. a constant reminder on how he has been working himself far too hard despite you telling him to take it easy. but that's just how he is, stubborn.

"how's work my love?" you ask, watching him undress himself, revealing his exposed toned chest before putting the clothes away with the rest of his dirty ones in the bathroom. "I take it, it wasn't a good day?"

"you could say that" he replies tiredly, grabbing a pair of sweatpants off the chair and slipping it on. "trying to get ahold with the new recruits is a fucking job, Peter's been getting on my nerves and I'm working on advancing the technology we have right now in order for it to be easier to identify every single anomaly's DNA we've come across to. But the amount of hypotheses and research I've done are nowhere near close to how I want them to be."

"i would ask Tony Stark for help but que cabron esta muerto" he breathes out a sigh, pinching the thick skin between his brows. "I'm drained, mi amor... i can't fucking do this shit everytime--"

"no hey.. stop" you shake your head, hate having to see your man fronting a distressed look in his face. “come here, Miggy” you pout at him patting your chest for him to lay his head,

he sighs heavily. plopping into the bed and carefully lays himself on top of you. pounding head finding comfort in the warmth of your chest, snaking his big arms around your waist.

you put your arms around him, locking him tightly as your soft lips kiss his forehead making him purr.

“my pretty baby. exhausted aren't you? hm?” you ask in a cooing tone. he hums -- which sounded like a growl to you-- with a nod before nuzzling himself closer. “oh my poor poor baby... my handsome man. always working himself to the bone” another kiss on the forehead

“come up a little closer, hm?” you ask as he barely shifts his body. too lazy and far too comfortable in your arms like this for him to move.

you run your fingers through his soft hair, moving a piece that’s covering his forehead. looking down to see him close his eyes, yet not sleeping.

it’s so funny to see how this freakishly large- broad man who always seems to bring a cold presence that scares everyone off at work—which is technically true— then turns into a huge softie and a love puddle for you in a split seconds.

it’s truly a privilege that you’re the only one who gets to see and feel this

“look how cute you are, baby… do you know how cute you are, hm?” you coo at him, lips kissing his nose and the sharpness of his cheekbone. trying your best to console him in hopes of washing his stress away.

he lightly shakes his head. “no” a curt reply rolls of his mouth, drawing your body closer to him if that's even possible.

you pretend to gasp dramatically at his answer. fingers still stroking his hair lightly. “you don’t?! oh no! we have to fix that! you’re the cutest *kiss* most handsome *kiss* hardworking *kiss* man I’ve ever known” showering him with compliments in between kisses. he breathes out a small chuckle that muffles against your chest.

it’s obvious that miguel rarely gets treatments like this, he’s no one to shy from things but you're his only exception. the only person who truly can get him blush like a little kid when he's shown the slightest bit of affection.

“who’s baby are you hm? are you my baby?” a smile graces your lips as your eyes casting down to his pretty features.

“me. I’m your baby” he mumbles, tightening his grip around you. "always be your baby"

-

inspired by @webslingingslasher their frat!peter work yall is making me [REDACTED] please go take a look!!

[iguanodont]

Emerges from my cave to announce I have created a new sophont

Tentatively calling swimslugs for now, as their designs mostly draw from mollusc anatomy. These small, colorful creatures dwell on a high gravity world dominated by shallow golden seas. Electrical engineering came early in their history, inspired by the ability of some of their native animals to generate electrical currents… and their own natural electroreception. The last few centuries have been peaceful and prosperous; their myriad cultures emphasize an exchange of art, culture, and friendly competition to sport the tackiest color schemes imaginable. Due to the high gravity of their world and their own physical limitations as aquatic creatures, swimslugs have a very limited history of aviation and have been generally uninterested in space travel, despite having been digital penpals with another group of sophonts for generations now…

On their biology:

Swimslug life relies on symbioses with two different organisms: a worm and a sessile “tunicate”. The worm (also simply referred to as an ‘arm’) is functionally a parasite; biting into the flank under the gills of its host early in life and fusing with its nervous and circulatory systems. This union allows the swimslug to develop fine motor control over the untethered end of the worm by adolescence. Most swimslugs only host a single arm; two or more become difficult for most individuals to acclimate to and can lead to health issues. Many genetic and cybernetic variations of the arm are available in the current era. The ‘tunicate’ (I will refer to as the Vase) is essential to swimslug reproduction; all parents spawn into the Vase to ensure a safe shelter and a steady current of oxygenated water for the developing offspring. The average swimslug has at least two fathers; the hybridization of multiple sets of gametes is essential to the proper development of their species. Family groups often consist of the egg layer, her family Vase (these can last for generations), and a 3 or 4 mates, though the particulars vary enormously by culture. Their eggs have a relatively low hatch rate; unviable eggs are consumed by surviving larvae shortly after hatching. The Vases themselves periodically produce free swimming larvae that are affectionately kept around dwellings as pets.

Swimslugs communicate by grinding and clacking modified stomach-teeth, as well as percussing on the adjacent ‘oil-sac’ organ that also serves to regulate buoyancy and store energy. They come in a dazzling variety of colors owing to both their complex hybridizations and genetic engineering. Cosmetic nanobots applied to their slime coats enhance their appearance by functioning as artificial chromatophores.

And that’s the gist of em! Many thanks to @nknatteringly for all the idea pitching and bouncing in their early development, wouldn’t have felt half as inspired without ya. Not sure how much further I’ll develop these guys, they exist mostly as a fun diversion to contrast the gritty, low-tech world of the birgs and a love letter to all the sparkly stuff I liked as a kid.

If you’d like to support my art, you check out these links here

———

Patreon

Kofi

Inprnt

[larluce]

Merlin traveling back in time to save Arthur AU but with a twist!!

Merlin makes it to the sidhes, bringing a barely breathing Arthur with him. As expected, they ask for a price and Merlin offers his life, ignoring Arthur's protests.

Sidhe1: You're inmortal you can't die

Sidhe2: And even if you could, killing you would mean killing magic itself, therefore killing the earth itself.

Merlin: (crying desperate) I don't care! Take what you need! My blood, my magic, anything! Just save him!

Sidhe1: (smiling evily) I might know just the thing.

They never tell him what are they going to take from him, but he agrees. The sidhes start the ritual, while Arthur just keeps pleading weakely

Merlin: (smiling) If I somehow don't come back-

Arthur: (crying) Stop! Merlin don't do this. Please!

Merlin: I just want you to know that I love you.

Before Arthur can answer the ritual ends and Merlin blacks out.

When he wakes up he is in his way to Camelot in his old clothes and 10 years younger. He soon discovers he's been brought back to the very first day he met Arthur. He's confused. Have the Sidhes taken from him years of his life as a price? It doesn't make sense to him, but he decides to take advantage of this to prevent some things from happening.

Time goes by and while, in general, all events are repeating, not everything is happening as he remembers. Some people arrive in his live early, like Lancelot or Gawain. And Arthur treats him better? Like he says thank you to him more often and listens to him more. Merlin thinks it’s weird, but brushes it off thinking it’s due to the changes he's been making that some things are not quite the same.

Then the day comes when he finally reveals his magic to Arthur. He cries and Arthur hugs him telling everything its okey. Nothing its going to happen to him. Shortly after however Arthur also has a confession.

Arthur: I already knew.

Merlin: What?! Since when?

Arthur: the very start.

Merlin: How? I've been careful! More careful than before!

Arthur: Because you told me before. Well, not really before, but in the future. It’s complicated.

Merlin: Wait... you are from the future too?!

They are both surprised. They thought they were alone in this and it turns out they never were. Merlin cries all over again, apologazing for everything, for failing him, for not being able to save him, but-

Arthur: You did.

Merlin: ... What?

Arthur: You did save me.

Merlin: No, the sidhes tricked me. They sent us back in time-

Arthur: It was not them who did that. It was me.

Merlin: What... what are you saying?

Turns out what the ritual really did was turn Merlin into a small tree in exchange for saving Arthur’s life. A magic tree that would grow taller and taller and never die and whose ruts would expand making magic florish in the earth forever. Arthur of course was really upset after that. He demanded the sidhes to turn Merlin back but they only told him "what's done it's done" and that all he could do was pick the tree up before the roots growed if he wanted to move it elsewhere.

Arthur put the tree in a pot and brought it back to Camelot. Everyone was devasted with the news but they were also glad their king was alive and safe. No one blamed him, but Arthur always blamed himself. He repealed the ban as soon as he could and made sure everyone knew Merlin's involvement in the battle and later the other things he find out Merlin did for Camelot through Gaius. He made an anual event and a statue in Merlin's honor. Camelot slowly but surely welcomed magic again and became the most prosperous kingdom in the land.

Merlin: Oh...I don't remember being a tree.

Arthur: Yeah, I figured.

Merlin: But you repealed the ban! That's great! Magic was free again in the-wait... so why did you do all this if everything was fine? And how did you do it?

Arthur: Everything was NOT fine Merlin. You weren't there!

Merlin: (utterly confused) I was. As a tree.

Arthur: You know what I mean! You were there but you weren't. We mourned you but you were still alive. I kept you in that pot for longer that I should have because I wanted to keep you close all the time, yet looking at you was so painful... Gwen had to scold me into finally plant you in the garden so you could grow properly. I was broken inside, while trying to rule a kingdom. I kingdom we should have ruled together from the start!

Merlin: ...

Merlin: You're telling me you somehow traveled us back in time and throw away the golden age, your dream of uniting all Albion and all you worked hard for... just because you missed me?

Arthur: And because I couldn't say it back.

Merlin: What?

Arthur: That I love you too.

NEXT PART OF THIS AU HERE -> PART 2

[bokunoheros]

TAGS/WARNINGS: reader is gender neutral but afab, shibari obvi lol, uhm oral (m. receiving), this is rlly short, sorry gang GENRE: smut — based on this SUMMARY: you suggest trying out bondage with your husband for the first time; something he can easily get on board with. WORD COUNT: 408.. sorry aizawa stans i’m in a time crunch 🦊’s A/N: i was not originally meant to write for day 6, but here i am the day before its due lol anyway sorry this is so short, my day 8 will definitely make up for it tho (it’s 10.4k words) also this was edited/co-written by XENOVA and FORDULA (sorry guys I was originally supposed to write day six but I’m sick as a fucking dog and I just could not bring myself to do it)

     “sh–shouta…” you whine uncomfortably in your suspended state, the only thing keeping you from spinning around was the large hand planted in your hair. when you said you wanted to try out bondage for the first time, you hadn’t exactly expected him to be so onboard… (really? you didn’t? despite the fact he literally has you tied up with his stupid capture weapon right now?) but here you were, very tightly hogtied plus a few additional ties to make sure you wouldn’t be in genuine discomfort as you’re suspended in the air. 

     “shhh,” he shushes you gently, his other hand holding his needy dick before slapping it against your cheeks a couple times and telling you to open up.

     you obey, of course, eagerly taking his dick into your hot mouth, something he groans lowly at. moving the hand around his base as he slowly pushes your head down against him, and—jesus christ! soon your nose is flush against his messy pubes, and you’re actively having to focus on breathing through your nostrils so you don’t choke around his length. fuck. 

     “doing so good for me, sweetheart,” he praises you quietly, drooling pre-cum down the back of your throat. 

     “mmnfgh,” you moan, eyes watering, and the vibrations around his cock causes his grip to tighten as he lets out a drawn-out groan. 

     he weaves his calloused hands into your hair, pulling on it lightly as he guides your head up and down his shaft. you look up at him with teary eyes, struggling to lap your tongue on his girth. you hum on his cock sending vibrations to it, he groans and hisses at the feeling of your tight mouth contracting for him. 

     it isn’t long before he’s cumming down your welcoming throat and holding you in place until he’s sure you’ve swallowed every last drop of cum.

     “shit…. shouta,” you choke out, limbs beginning to feel tingly.

     “shh, i know, i know—you did so good,” he tells you, stroking your hair tenderly. 

     shortly after you both catch your breath, he lowers you onto the floor and takes his time untying you, running his hands all over your sweaty body in the process. 

     blinking away the remainders of your tears, you smile sweetly at your husband when he asks how it was.

     “next time, i wanna tie you up.” and he simply chuckles at your response, saying i don’t know about that, but not shutting you down entirely.

return to KINKTOBER | S. AIZAWA M.LIST

[deforest]

SHE'S CRAZY WITH THE HEAT — 1946 ft. The International Sweethearts of Rhythm

In 1946, William D. Alexander began the production of a series of one-reel shorts, half-hour featurettes and feature films that would serve a dual purpose. These black cast subjects would be released to theaters that welcomed African American audiences; concurrently, the music segments would be excerpted from the films and released as Soundies. Ultimately, sixteen of Alexander’s musical shorts reached the Panoram screen, spotlighting the bands of Lucky Millinder, Billy Eckstine, Henri Woode and the International Sweethearts of Rhythm. (Alexander actually produced four films with the Sweethearts, three ten-minute short subjects and one feature, although some of the performances turns up in more than one film; only three performances saw release as a Soundie.) The International Sweethearts of Rhythm grew out of a band formed in the 1930s at the Piney Woods Country Life School, an institution – in part an orphanage – for poor African American children. A member of the music department had apparently taken note of the success of Ina Ray Hutton’s Melodears and decided that an all-woman band composed of school members might lead to something special. While they performed locally, the ISR did not begin to hit its stride until it left Piney Woods and became a professional touring outfit in 1941. The band was certainly “international” in nature, and its ranks included African American, Latina, Chinese, Indian, White and Puerto Rican musicians. In 1941, Anna Mae Winburn joined the orchestra as front woman and featured vocalist. During the war years Maurice King joined the band as both arranger and band manager. Born Clarence King in 1911, King played reeds and later became a fine swing arranger. While here we recognize his composition and arrangement for the Sweethearts – he called this tune “She’s Crazy with the Heat ” – King is best known for his longtime association with Barry Gordy and Motown Records for which he served as director of artist development. He worked closely with vocal groups, teaching the singers how to voice and phrase together. “Maurice brought sophistication and class to Motown,” said session musician Johnny Trudell. By 1946, the Sweethearts was recognized as one of the finest African-American bands in jazz. They recorded for Guild and RCA Records, broadcast regularly for the Armed Forces Radio Service, and toured Europe entertaining the GIs. While much of the success was due to Maurice King’s arrangements, the band’s musicians were all strong, and a special nod must go to Viola Burnside, one of the most neglected tenor soloists of the 1940s. I chatted with my friend Roz Cron, a member of the Sweetheart’s reed section, shortly before her passing. When I thanked her for her contribution, she paused and said, “Yeah, we were one of the best, one of the very, very best.” (via Jazz on Film)

[apocalypse-shuffle]

AGATHA HARKNESS (mcu | agatha all along)

—

“A Witch’s Bargain” (Agatha Harkness x Fem!Reader) and (mentioned Rio Vidal x Fem!Reader)

| Once you find out a witch as infamous and powerful as Agatha is seeking you out you decide to go to her before she can pull one over on you; an attempt was made.

| SFW, obeah, flirting, hints at immortality, reader has something going on with both Agatha and Rio, -caribbean!reader & witch!reader

| pic source: Agatha All Along (2024)

| Note, the Reader-Insert is speaking with an accent but I didn’t write the particulars of it down bcs that would’ve been a lot to parse through even for me. Also, happy less-than-forty days till Halloween!

| 2k+ words

“Oh my,” you drawl, leant back against a large tree near Westview’s local psychic shop and nearly lost in its shadow, “this is…underwhelming.”

A whopping three people — only two witches, one of which was currently powerless — pause in front of you on the sidewalk, your words ringing even truer at the way the boy amongst them jumps at your abrupt entrance.

Lips pursed, you look him up and down with little favor. If this was to be the makings of Agatha Harkness’s “great coven” the pickings truly must’ve been slim.

The very witch you came to see turns to you, her hair falling into her face with the movement like she’s in some big brand shampoo commercial. Without another word, you watch on with an opposing stillness, your heart remaining steady.

Interesting.

For a woman you’d all thought dead Agatha looked well. Hair not clumpy, skin not worn or leathery. Even the way she held herself still bellied her comfort in mysticism, even dressed like a modern day woman as she was.

“Mm,” she hums shortly, turning in place with a few unhurried steps until she can cast narrowed eyes onto her apparent newest tag-along. Matching her stare head on you lean into the sun’s light a little more, your own thick curls brushing across a few low hanging branches where your hair is wrapped in cloth atop your head. “I don’t recall asking for an Obeah Woman,” she announces, tone bitingly light.

A scoff falls past your lips.

“And I didn’t expect the whispers for a coven would lead me to you, like this,” you twitch, letting your smile spread your plush lips thin, “broken and without your gifts.”

“I wouldn’t test me, New Girl,” she parries, and you hold your palms up in surrender.

Though your expression doesn’t sober.

The smile that rises to match your own in response to that is lopsided and sharp. Years worth of condescension she’d grown too used to falling back on without caution due to the magic coursing through her coming to the surface.

Agatha Harkness’s name in whispers had sent you into a fit at first — a witch of her caliber and age with your name on her mind never meant good — but looking at her now you could only tilt your head.

On the other hand, the boy with her seems eager to shake apart with laughter that grinds upon your nerves. Luckily, one look from the Salem veteran keeps him quiet.

Mostly.

In seconds she too is cackling, however — the boy’s muffled laughter acting as background noise — and you don’t bother stopping your sneer then.

“Oh, I see. You think you're hot shit,” she draws out, voice dropping an octave. “Don’t you operate a failing apothecary out of your apartment?”

Lips flattening, you step from the shadow, your face fixed without obvious malice to the best of your ability.

“It’s a side hustle,” you sniff. “And still better than being sentenced to 100 lashes and persecuted by the Danish; if I ever see the inside of a Christianshavn prison again I’ll frig up more than a few rum distilleries.”

“Of course. Now you just get persecuted by American Authority instead,” she says, the cut of her mouth sly.

With a flourish you wave her off. “Wretched as your worry is, it’s unneeded. Poison is no different than an elixir when you make it backwards.”

“Okay,” she simpers, shrugging herself, voice light and eyes never straying from your form as you glide closer over the concrete.

Powerless or not, something beneficial could surely come of making the occasional acquaintance of such a renowned woman.

Movement in your peripherals catches your attention though, and you stop moving to turn your head to find who you can only assume is the cause of your blight today.

Your sneer situates itself right back over your lips.

“Lilia,” you announce, the woman stops in her tracks and cuts you a brazen look out of the corner of her eyes. You take caution to only let your molars grind together for a second, releasing the tension in increments as your gaze narrows on her and you stand taller. “I should cut you down where you stand.”

The psychic huffs, shawl sliding a bit down the slope of her shoulder.

Slowly pulling the covering back into place she tuts at you, “Or…you could not. I mean, let’s face it, you would’ve been drawn here regardless of if I gave Agatha your name.”

“Unlikely,” you snap, words ground out like you’d rather spit on her than keep to something so civil as using mere words to express yourself.

And you would if you weren’t in such mixed company. Lilia was only meek when she was playing some angle after all.

You didn’t like anyone else making your moves for you, forcing you to speed up your timeline. Your own plans be damned.

“Witches, witches!” Agatha cuts in, holding her hands out to keep you and the psychic apart despite the way she’s only looking your way. “Let’s not tear each other apart just yet, hm?”

She eyes you from head to toe, taking her time to pan down as she takes in your flowing clothing and lightly clacking beads, before giving you a wicked look. “We wouldn’t want to mar anything too pristine before things really get interesting, now would we?”

Knocking your gaze to Lilia for a second you clock how she initially meets your glower, but keep your gaze steady regardless, just up until she finally twitches in discomfort. Only then do you ease up, tossing a grimace of a smile her way, before watching Agatha closely once more as the psychic wanders off somewhere out of sight with a few muttered curses you pay no mind to.

Meanwhile, Agatha’s expression has changed, having lost its begrudging appraisal and turned furrowed.

You raise your brows, “Harkness?”

She squints, obscuring fine cut hazel.

“I know you, don’t I?”

“Ah,” you grin without teeth, shoulders shaking, “so you can’t tell your porridge from your oats either I see.”

She rolls her eyes.

“The ‘wise sage’ act is very annoying, I have to tell you. It’s really ruining an otherwise beautiful package and I think you should work on that.”

“Should I?”

“That’s what I just said.”

“Oh, alright,” you examine your bare nails, twisting your wrist this way and that to get a ‘better’ view of your cuticles, “you’ll have to put the request in with my secretary first, though, I fear.”

Agatha’s pet’s head pops up from over her shoulder, his face screwed up, “You have a secretary? …No offense.”

Sighing, you drop your hand back to your side and make a point of rolling your eyes hard enough to nearly make yourself dizzy.

“No. I don’t,” you tell him finally, though you don’t look away from the actual witch in front of you even as you do.

Immediately after you raise your brow at Agatha, however, “As for you, you know full well that I’m better than any sage, and that passing me up would be a waste when you need a potion maker. Regardless, no we haven’t met, but your backside is just as unpleasant as people describe.”

“Hm,” she hums in agreement, moving to toss her round brunette curls around to her back with a wink in your direction, “unpleasantly beautiful, you might say.”

“Worthless more like it,” you correct.

Agatha stops putting on her little show so quickly you might as well have just lashed her across the face.

Briefly, her eye spasms, “Watch it.”

“I might,” you say, “so long as you prove me wrong. Now, if we could get back on track.”

“Huh,” she scoffs, glaring at you now. “Fine. How bout’ this, unless you can make an elixir to make me invincible from every witch closing in on me, then scram. I’m dealing with enough ameatures as is.”

Head thrown back for a second, you laugh, letting your fervor echo throughout Lilia’s forever vacant parking lot.

“Oh, make no mistake, Harkness, I can do that...” you say eventually, voice easy in a way that gives the other woman pause. You jerk a brow up, briefly mirroring the way her interest seems to physically jump up to stare at you, “…for a price.”

Gaze finally brightening she moves to knock her male companion on the shoulder, gesturing your way afterwards before plastering a much “nicer” smile on her face.

“Teen’s got the money. Give the woman whatever she wants, come on.”

“Oh no, I don’t want money,” you cut in with a flick of your hand at the grabble she’s making for the boy’s wallet.

Agatha pauses in the middle of silently arguing with Teen, glancing your way from her slightly bent position.

“—You don’t?”

“I might not call myself a witch, but that in no way means I’m confused as to what you witch them does do.” You get closer to her, and how she straightens to meet your advance makes you preen. “I want a favor. A binding one.”

“As if,” the boy cuts in with, “A witch of her caliber doesn’t do binding spells, they’ll only hinder her.”

Oh my—

“You well fucking rude,” you say distastefully, giving him a harsh look. Irritatingly, his forward ass only lays his hand over his heart with a gasp.

For her part all Agatha does is laugh, knocking you lightly on the shoulder as if you’ve told a particularly funny joke, and taking you right out of your stare down. “You’re lucky you’re pretty, Dear. Cause you sure are delusional.”

She snorts.

You suck your teeth.

This back and forth routine was getting far more tiresome than you’d anticipated.

“The only lucky one here is you,” you deadpan.

She opens her mouth to respond, that same dismissal in the curve of her mouth, but then pauses. Expression twitching, she leans even closer to you to inhale.

Frowning, you pull your upper half away from her.

“What—?”

“—I should’ve known,” Agatha exclaims lowly, pointing her finger at you. “You reek of her plague, that's why you seemed so familiar. What have you been dabbling in, I wonder, to smell so thoroughly of Rio? Joining her plot against me?”

You shake your head, looking away from her. You’d only hung around Vidal for the same reasons you were hanging around Agatha: to gain connections and, better still, favors you could cash in on if you ever found yourself in a bind due to your own ventures.

You hadn’t been lying earlier when you’d said you’d start making drastic moves if you saw the inside of a cell again, you didn’t care where it was. You’d burn it all down until they had to put you down before you’d waste away imprisoned ever again.

“Absolutely not. Whatever cuhruckle that went down between you two is yours alone. All I’m worrying about is my deal.”

To the displeasure of your heightening pulse, however, Agatha doesn’t just look passingly interested or even admiring any longer. She looks like she’s been given a puzzle, and like she likes it.

“Too late,” she chirps, fluttering her lashes, “Rio is far too picky about the company she keeps alive for your involvement to be left unexplored.”

Hand coming up, she runs her nails along your jaw. You stave off a flinch from the ticklish sensation her touch elicits. “You’ve taken on too potent a poison, Darling, situating yourself in the middle of our fight,” Agatha finishes, clicking her tongue, before walking her digits back up the umber expanse of your skin to press the pads of them into the hinge of your jaw.

You swallow roughly, hope she can’t hear it.

Agatha smiles, pressing in until she can force you to meet her eyes again. They’re roving, almost manic when paired with her smile.

“Yes,” she breathes, eyes alight. “Maybe I do need an Obeah Woman after all. We’ll be going to the Witch’s Road, won’t you come with?”

No. It’s on the tip of your tongue. The feel of Rio’s blackened energy still a hot, sizzling brand across your lips.

One deal had been made already, yes, but were you sure about pursuing this one as well with the inevitability of getting caught in the middle of a centuries old rivalry so probable?

Unfortunately, your, “Fine,” slips past your lips before you can stop yourself, and rather than deal with the indignity of walking your agreement back you stay quiet.

Watching for her move. Reasoning with yourself that there were still benefits here despite this new hiccup, if only you played your cards right.

She doesn’t make you wait long.

A shiver rises over you as her presence does the same, her steps carrying her till there’s hardly a whisper between your bodies. Even without her magic, being this close to Agatha Harkness allowed her to snake herself across your soul same as Rio Vidal had when you’d also unintentionally peaked her curiosity a while back.

“Wonderful,” she coos, the pad of her thumb gliding up your cheekbone as her hazel bores deep into your brown, “let’s see about that deal then.”

Dammit to hell; this had better be worth whatever Agatha and Rio’s combined interest would do to you.

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!!

Fun fact, actually, I wrote this when I’d only watched episode two up until Agatha and Teen left Lilia’s place, and so didn’t know that Jen (gorgeous as she is) would be who they went to for poisons (or that that was in any way a requirement in the first place) so that was a fun little coincidence. Otherwise, the setting of this oneshot I just pulled out of my ass fr.

Also, character motivations are a bit funky but I can’t pinpoint the exact reason and really want to post this tonight so we’ll all have to deal.

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it!

—

Caribbean word of the day (i.e.,the glossary): “Frig” - an alternative way to say ‘fuck’. so ‘frig up’ = ‘fuck up’.

“Cuhruckle” - a fight or (intense) disagreement; drama.

*remember, though, that dialects are regional so the words in this glossary aren’t used by every caribbean* ��

EDITED: 9/26/24 & 10/26/24 (after s1ep7 I’m even more in love w/ Rio now)

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Fae!Danny But Make It Fantasy

I've already made a whole Changeling AU with fae!Danny, but guess what, I have decided not to achieve any level of chill with fae ideas.

We all know Danny is Ghost Kind. Now, what if he is a Fae Prince? A Prince of Winter, to be exact. Imagine all the ice castles (Elsa, I'm looking at you), the snowy lands, northern lights in his crown, a cape made of tiny ornate snowflakes. Crystalline ice swords, skin so white he doesn't even look alive, eyes clear and blue like a frozen lake. Formal gowns, ballrooms, duels and carriages pulled by horses made of snowstorms.

He used to be a changeling, put in place of Dan. Grew up in a village with his parents being witch hunters, or maybe just hunters in general. Meanwhile Dan, a human child whose place he took, grew up in a fae realm, surrounded by magic creatures and miracles.

But Danny couldn't hide he was a fae his whole life. He used to look human when he was a baby, but as the time went by, he started to look more and more fae-like. Jazz was the first to notice it, of course, but this was Danny, a child she practically raised, so she dealt with it. Their parents, though, did not.

Sam and Tucker are in the know, for sure. Sam used this opportunity to learn witchcraft - who is better to learn from than an actual fae? Tucker is a blacksmith, as is his family. The first thing he asked Danny when he discovered he is a fae, was "how in the seven kingdoms are you a fae, and you decided a blacksmith is your best friend?" because, honestly, not even Fentons have so much iron around them as Tucker does.

Now, you may be thinking of where the DC part comes in here.

Well, the Waynes are actually the royal family. Bruce is the King of Gotham, and his children are princes, princesses, and heirs. They are also protecting the country not only by the word of the law, but also from the other, more shady side. I think they should go by Shadows, not Bats, though, since I doubt a name like 'Batman' would fly in the fantasy world.

Constantine is a mage, the strongest one alive, and yet he couldn't care less for his uniqueness if he tried for a week. Diana is the Queen of Themyskira, of course. I think Krypton should be its own country or a continent, ruled by the family of El. Although Jon is the first heir to a throne, due to Kon being, well, a bastard in terms of medieval customs.

After Danny's race is found out by his parents, he leaves for the fae realm, and he offers his friends and his sister to join him. Tucker refuses, Sam and Jazz take him up on that, but Sam leaves shortly after - she mostly used it to get away from her overbearing parents. She is now a witch who lives in the woods all alone, and no one can find her. She keeps contact with Danny, though. Jazz is traveling both the fae and the human realms, just having fun with it.

Jason is part-fae. After he died, a cult has abducted his body - the cult leader being Ra's, of course - and used it for an experiment. They used some fae magic to bring him back, or, maybe, they have tried to merge a fae and a human, creating a chimera. This was the first option of Ra's trying to get closer to Bruce in order to take power. It was not a very successful option since both Jason and whatever was left of the fae inside him decided not to obey the madman.

Damian was... slightly more successful. He was not merged with anything, but his development was magically enhanced.

And now, while Danny is back in the fae realm and he is a crowned Prince of Winter, Clockwork has a problem. He knows humans are afraid of fae, but this is not a very productive way to go. And there is a timeline somewhere there that can fix it.

Of course, Danny is right in the middle of that timeline. Now, Clockwork just needs to find a way to help Danny make an alliance with humans.

[captainfantasticalright]

Let’s talk about: safety glasses!

The ones Edwin is wearing are actually some of the very first models invented.

Since its beginning, circa 1880, protective safety eyewear has significantly evolved. The patented"eye protector" by P. Johnson used two layers of semi-opaque cloth to protect those working with fire (i.e., firemen, furnace-men) from the intensity that comes from bright lights.

Now it wasn’t until 1903 when French scientist Edouard Benedictus accidentally invented the safety glass. When climbing a ladder in his laboratory to grab reagents from a shelf, he clumsily knocked a glass flask to the floor and heard it shatter. But when he looked down, the pieces were still hung together due to a cellulose nitrate solution (liquid plastic) lining the inside of the glass flask.

Shortly after, when reading a story in the Paris newspaper about automobile accidents in which the drivers were getting seriously injured by shattered glass windshields, he thought of the liquid lining in the flask and decided to experiment. This experimentation eventually led to the creation of safety glass.

Around the same time, the United States was making its own discoveries. America's first optics teacher, Julius King, was growing concerned about industrial eye injuries, which led to his company setting up an industrial safety and eye protection department. Then in 1909, the Julius King Optical Company developed the first safety goggle in collaboration with American Optical. These safety goggles were called SANIGLAS.

Glasses continued evolving since then. Reason I wanted to delve a little bit into this is because the pattern is quite similar, if not the exact same as Crowley’s glasses!

Pretty interesting choice of eyewear.

[latenighttalking00]

A Work of Art

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Fem! Reader

Summary: You are a Marchioness from france and your mother is adamant that you wed. She is a very close friend of the Dowager Vicountess Bridgerton who has so generously agreed to be your sponsor for the season. Perhaps in doing this, she has unknowingly found her son's perfect match as well.

Warnings: slow-ish burn, friends to lovers, smut, 18+, minors dni, hair pulling, possessive/dirty talk, fingering, oral (f receiving). This is just porn with a plot.

Word Count: 2k

Author's Note: Hi! This is my first time writing, so apologies if it's a bit rough; English isn't my native language. Hopefully, you all absolutely drool over Benedict the same way I do. enjoy!

Once the social season had begun its approach, you and your family make haste on your return from france. Due to your newly given title, you are projected to be quite the diamond this season indeed.

As a close friend of the family, the Dowager Viscountess, Violet Bridgerton kindly offers to sponsor your debut this season, meaning that it is now of the utmost importance to arrive promptly at the Bridgerton home in London before the season is to begin.

As you sit in the drawing room, awaiting the next potential suitors you will inevitably send on their way, the clear and evident dread in your expression does not go unnoticed by your mother. A quick swat to your knee from her fan catches your attention, a visible look of warning on her face as your eyes meet hers.

"I do hope that attitude of yours is quick to dissipate." She sighs, "Men will find you quite inadequate to wed if you are to continue this ridiculous behavior. It is quite unladylike." Your mother's words cut right through you as if she had taken a hot paring knife to both of your ears. Not being able to withstand it any longer, you quickly stand from your seat and interrupt her.

"Mother, this gown and the line of men outside the door are quite suffocating enough; no need for your incessant nagging as well." You take a moment to pause, regaining your composure.

"I believe I am feeling quite faint; perhaps I've seen enough suitors today." You threaten rather than suggest, "I will return to my chambers and perhaps get a bit of rest seeing as the sun has already began it’s departure from the sky."

You bow and quickly excuse yourself before making haste out the door, walking as fast as your feet can take you, right past the men who are practically begging for just a minute of your attention.

You race directly to your bedroom, entering quickly and not even fully shutting the door before you are pulling down the zipper of your gown and letting it fall to the floor. "This retched thing must come off immediately," you mumble to yourself as you pull at the laces of your corset, loosening them just enough to slide off your body. A sigh of relief leaves your lips as you slip off your stays and slip on a beautiful white nightgown you purchased from one of the most talented modiste in france.

Shortly after the maids come to collect your gown, you are quick to wander down the halls in search of a cure to your relentless boredom. you find what appears to be an art studio and you are instantly overjoyed. you quietly sneak in through the door left ajar.

Art was your pride and joy; your sketches and the ability to produce beautiful works on canvas were the only things keeping you from becoming a mad woman.

Unbeknownst to you, Violet's second-eldest son and the owner of said art studio had just returned home from the gentleman's club. As he makes his way down the hall, prepared to return to his studio and peacefully finish up some things he started the night prior, he is met with complete and udder surprise at the sight of a woman flipping through his sketchbooks.

He feels as if the air has been knocked right from his lungs. Never once has a woman looked so real, raw, and simply ethereal to him in nothing but a simple yet elegant night gown, the pages in between your delicate fingers, the way in which you sit, your effortless and beautiful features, and the way they change and turn to show your focus, the true and utter intrigue at the charcoal etched on the paper is more than enough to bring a man directly to his knees.

He watches as you adjust your position, your nightgown sliding up your thighs as you cross a leg over the other. He feels as if he might faint.

“those are from my time traveling.” he points, making his way in to the room.

So lost in thought, you are quickly brought back by the sound of the deep and sultry voice coming from the hallway, it sends chills down your body, you are unable to fight the butterflies in your stomach and are completely unprepared for what you’re eyes are met with the second they dare to leave the pages in front of you. He is perhaps one of the most beautiful men you have ever seen, the way his features darken in the dim candle light could cause scandal merely on its own.

As he makes his way over to you, you scramble to find any sort of words to not appear as a complete and udder fool. “désolée, my Lord. All this beautiful artwork caught my eye and i could not help myself.” your voice only making his new found attraction grow even stronger.

“Benedict Bridgerton..” he says just loud enough for you to hear. He is quick to take your hand in his, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“Miss y/n y/l/n” you respond, a blush creeps over your cheeks as your eyes meet his. Your name and accent are both very quick explanations as to why a very random beautiful woman was wondering in

his family home.

“Ah yes, the Marchioness from France. My mother has done quite a bit of boasting upon your arrival, i can now see why she was so keen on you being the diamond of this social season” he chuckled lightly “merci, Lord Bridgerton.” you offer him a warm smile as you place the sketch book in his hands.

Your hand grazes his and you feel as if your body is set aflame. You quickly fumble to stand, attempting to leave before any further scandal is to happen. he is quick to catch you by the arm, his light grasp more than enough to keep you in place.

“Please, stay as long as you’d like.” He offers, taking a step towards you, but you are quick to shake your head, knowing staying any longer may very well affect your title and rank during this very precious season.

“You are more than kind.” you place a hand over his and squeeze lightly. He leans even closer, your face mere inches from his. his scent fills your nose and you cannot control the heat that consumes your body, the sheer need you have for him in this very moment. “I must- i uh-..” he raises an eyebrow at your words. though his proximity fogs your brain, you attempt to compose yourself. “Perhaps i can show you some of my art in the duration of my stay here.“ he smirks, dragging his teeth over his bottom lip as he nods “if what you create is half as beautiful as you, my art will never hold a candle to yours.” he compliments.

Your breathe catches in your throat as his words. “..Benedict- Apologies, Lord Bridgerton..” you quickly correct yourself, the use of his first name not going unnoticed by him. “I’m sure both your and my Mother will have quite the earful if i am found in here, i must go.” Before he is even able to protest, you are gone.

As the days pass, You begin to consume his every waking thought, the sound of your voice, the feeling of your skin on his is burned in to his memory and he cannot shake his want for you.

Anthony is quick to notice his admiration, the wandering stares and close proximity immediately become apparent in Anthony’s eyes. As the family settles in the drawing room, Anthony is quick to pull His younger brother aside “You’ve grown quite close with Marchioness” Anthony offers his younger brother a warning glance and Benedict simply smirks in return “Brother, are you suggesting that i’ve compromised Miss y/l/n?” he laughs. Anthony in no way finds this amusing “See to it that your intentions are well thought out and you are thinking with your brain rather than something else. She is a Marchioness, toying with oversea affairs may be more than risky, even for a Bridgerton.” Anthony notes, the clear and evident weariness in his voice wipes the smile right off Benedict’s face

“Brother, do remind me. Did you not ask for one Sharma’s hand in marriage and then proceed to marry the other? You need not inform me on scandal for i am more than well aware of what i am doing.” he place a hand on Anthony shoulder and squeezes light before walking away.

time skip

Benedict does everything in his power to gain every fraction of your attention when it is available. The two of you spending more time together than any of the men attempting to court you. This new grown fondness blossoms quickly and Benedict soon becomes one of your most trusted friends. Spending late nights in his art studio, promenades in the garden, pall mall with his family. You’ve never felt more at home than with your dear Benedict and his lovely family. This fondness grows very quickly to something much stronger. Knowing Benedict’s stance on courting and marriage in general, you shake the thought. Knowing your dear friend will never see you as anything but.

While enjoying another late night in his studio, you can’t help but feel different. You both are well aware your time together is coming to end. Suitors begin growing impatient and proposals begin rolling in faster than the tide.

“I quite like Lord Lumley, he is handsome and he finds interest in poetry.” Benedict is quick to laugh “Lord Lumley is a dimwit after nothing but your title.” you wince at his words “Clearly he’s much more of a gentleman than you.” You tease, crossing your arms over your chest. “Excuse me?” he asks, the change in his tone sending heat right between your thighs. He rises from his place on the stool and saunters over to you, his large frame towering over yours.

“Repeat what you said.” he orders

“Ben i was merely kidding i-“ you stutter, his proximity making your skin feel as if it were on fire.

“Do not make me ask you again.” he warns, a smirk on his face

You are a bit taken a back by his demeanor but the insatiable desire in your body fills you with a sudden surge of confidence. “Lord Lumley is more of a gentleman than you, Lord Bridgerton.”

Benedict lets out a low chuckle before leaning down, his mouth right by your ear.

“Perhaps you’re right. Perhaps Lord Lumley isn’t plagued by the same un-gentleman like thoughts that fill my head the moment you step into a room.” he sighs, his breath on your skin only making matters worse.

Your hands find his half buttoned shirt and you press your hands lightly to his chest “Benedict.” you warn.

he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes with his own. Your noses practically grazing as he speaks. “Tell me now that you do not desire me.” His hands rest on either side of your face “Simply speak the words and i will respectfully withdraw and allow you to be with whomever you like but first you must tell me you do not desire me and you wish for me to leave you alone.”

“Ben.” You mumble quitely. Every feeling or emotion that the second eldest Bridgerton has ever caused immediately rises to the surface. At a complete loss for words, you do what you feel is right in the very moment and you bring your lips to his.

The kiss quickly fills with passion, weeks of hidden adoration and care comes bubbling over the surface.

“Marry me.” he say breathlessly as he breaks from the kiss. “You have shown me what is it truly like to admire a woman. To look at her and feel inspiration. To delight in her beauty. So much so that all of her defenses crumble and that you would willingly take on any pain or burden for her. To honor her being with your deeds and words. You make me feel what only a true poet describes." his works nearly bring you to your knees as tears threaten to escape your eyes. “I would move the heavens down to earth for you if i knew it would make you smile.”

“Benedict.. Je vous aime.” you reassure him “I love you mon chéri, more than the moon loves the night sky. You are my everything, my best-friend. I would give anything to be your wife.” He pulls you back in for another kiss which very quickly becomes heated.

He trails hot kisses all over your jaw, neck and bosom. “My beautiful Fiancée.” he mumbles, his wandering hands sliding their way up your thighs, threatening to breach the hem of your nightgown. You are immediately reminded of your current location and you push the dark haired boy back “Ben.. not here” you breathe out, The second Bridgerton son just smirks before kneeling down in front of you.

Unsure of what he’s planning, you remain silent, eyes trained on his as he begins trailing kisses up from your ankle to your inner thigh. His hands trail up the back of your legs, giving your ass a playful squeeze as he reaches it, causing a gasp to escape from your lips.

The mere sight of him like this sends heat directly between your thighs, all logical thinking thrown out the window as he begins to tug your panties down your thighs. A blush creeps over your cheeks and your hands find his hair, tugging lightly. Benedict continues with no hesitation, pressing light kisses all over your inner thighs, leading right up to your aching core. You’re unable to fight back the sounds that leave your lips as you feel his tongue pressed against your clit. “Christ Benedict… you’re going to be the death of me.”

He wastes no time, lapping, kissing and sucking at your soaked heat as strong hands grip on to your thighs, throwing one of your legs over his shoulder. You lean against his desk to keep yourself upright while quiet moans and whimpers escape your lips, your hands pulling and tugging at his messy black hair, only encouraging him more. He pulls back only for a moment to look up at you “You taste fucking divine, my beautiful work of art.”

He is quick to return to your soaked heat. As his tongue works relentlessly on your clit, he slowly pushes two fingers inside of you, giving you a moment to adjust before slowly thrusting them in and out. Shortly after, you feel an unfamiliar knot form in the pit of your stomach and Benedict is aware immediately due to your incoherent mumbles and the way you clench around his fingers. “That’s my girl..” he says breathlessly “just like that..” After hearing his words, you completely unravel, shaky moans escape your lips as one hand grips on to the table and the other with a tight hold on your Fiancées hair.

Once your body has relaxed, he gently pulls your panties back up before standing to face you. You watch as he brings his fingers to your mouth “Open.” he commands and you immediately oblige, opening your mouth as he slides his fingers past your lips. The unfamiliar taste and the sheer sight in front of you causes a blush to fall over your face. He removes his fingers with a groan and offers your a smirk “You, my dear Fiancée are going to be the death of Me.”

A/N: Hi guys! I really hope every likes this :) if you have any request, feel free to send them to me :)

[serene-sky-kid]

Well pluto made a fanart of my snail, so I think I should make my own post

A few weeks ago I made a drawing in magma of a dark worm like the one we have now but smaller in Serene's arms (this one)

Shortly after I saw the radio that came out in the board missions and I said "oh! another sound making machine that uses a sea shell" and since then I have been with the idea of ​​making a Snail? of light that reacts to music.

@plutonium-sky encouraged me and gave me some ideas on development, snail references and the idea of ​​imitating sounds!

Will I use these creatures? I'll probably give Serene one as a pet that start as a smal dark worm, because I have no self-control.

It's a creature invented just for fun! so information under the cut!

This is my purified version of the Dark worm

These snails existed in large numbers in rivers and seas during the time of ancestors.

They can hum to the rhythm of music, if you teach them they can imitate sounds and even imitate words

Their size varies, they spend a lot of time between the range in which they fall in your hand and the size of a mantatee.

But if this snail has an ideal environment they can live long enough to grow quite large, something common in the past, now something quite unlikely due to pollution.

They are born looking like a sea slug, but when they feel ready they use a kind of light silk to create their own sea shell.

This sea shell is capable of storing sound in it, the most common being the sound of the sea or flowing water, but not the only one.

They can fly just like Mantatees and sanctuary whales, but they spend most of their lives in the water, only using their ability to fly when It's time to return to the cycle, eating their own sea shell and embarking on the journey to Eden like every creature of light.

A snail that does not feel safe or healthy will not create its silk, much less its shell, but there are ways to force it.

The ancestors found this ability to store sound striking, it was common to see them being sold as a nice decoration for the home, then they discovered that they could store different melodies in them and different devices were created.

Sonorous Sea Shells were very popular especially in Valley

There were many attempts to create a replica of this sea shell, but there was no material that could match the light silk that these snails produced, they were necessary to manufacture it.

The industrial use of these poor creatures and the pollution in the snails' environment brought them to the brink of extinction.

[sully-s]

Batman Quest To Get A Birkin Bag

Ok so I have a very indulgent, SuperBats head fanfic that keeps me company on days that I forget to charge my earphones while walking my dog and to bore my wonderfully accommodating friends over dinner.

Long story short it’s a character study about Clark after his death. Doomsday kills him becuase we do not subscribe to Synder movies in this household.

Mostly its about Bruce grieving and reflecting on his ten+ year marriage with the man of steel with a large helping of the Justice League members bonding and finally getting to know Bruce and in turn Clark. (Kal never really got to say specifics about his life because Bruce wanted to keep his identity secret therefore a lot of Clark's life was private.)

For most of the fic Clark’s dead. But I'm one for angst with a happy ending so he comes back. How he comes back I have all kinds of versions but I just want to share this really silly one that I’m slightly obsessed with.

It’s about two years after Clark died. Currently, Bruce and Hal are off-world for a two-month mission. Shortly after they leave the League are battling some sorcerer who's in possession of a Jinn. During the battle two of the three wishes are used and at the end it's Flash who gets to use the last one.

He wishes for Clark to be revived back to life.

Jinn says he can't do that

Flash thinks of course just like in Aladdin you can't bring the dead back, make someone fall in love or wish for more wishes.

The Jinn is like how dare you think that's not within my power of course I can bring back the dead, I can't bring back Superman because Clark's not dead. he's just in his grave too weak to break out of his grave due to the lack of sunlight.

Flash hears this and immediately rushes over to dig up Kal.

The next month and a half are all about Clark adjusting to the changes over the last three years (Like having a new kid at the manor: Tim) Meeting new members (Green Arrow, Martian Man Hunter), and really bonding with his teammates ect.

While waiting for Bruce's return Clark asks Barry what he'd like.

Barry is confused

Clark clarifies that Barry was able to bring back one of Bruce's loved ones “to life.“ That’s never happened and for a man like Bruce who loves deeply for his family he going to be very grateful and he will not take “I’m just glad I could help” for an answer. So Barry needs to think of something or Batman will.

Barry doesn't know what to ask for but knows that Bruce is rich. He figures this would be a great time to get that designer bag that Iris always wanted but they could never justify ever buying. (Listen I don’t know if Iris is a designer girly but in this fic she really just likes this one bag.)

So Bruce and Hal get back and after the big celebration party, the JL held for Clark and Bruce's reunion. Bruce approaches Barry thanks him and asks if there’s anything he can do.

Thinking Barry is going to ask for a house, pull some strings with his Brucie persona so he can better his life at his job or status. Maybe ask for Bruce to fund or set up a wellness program for people in Central City.

But Barry is just like: Uh well Iris has always liked this bag.

And Bruce is thinking Really Barry You brought the love of my life back to life I’d move mountains (without Clark’s help) for you and you want some designer bag for your wife?

Bruce: Do you have a picture?

And as soon as Barry shows him the bag Bruce knows moving mountains would be so much easier.

The bag Barry wants to get is a Birkin Bag.

Now if you know anything about Birkin bags 1. they’re stupid expensive. 2. If you can afford one that doesn't mean you get to buy one. Hermes the company that makes them has this irate practice that you have to work up a good relationship with the store and the sales associates in said store to even get the privilege to buy a Birkin (usually by buying a ton of other Hermes products you don’t want.) Sometimes you buy half the store but if you’re not a high-profile client or they don't like your image they just brush you off and postpone your chance to ”buy” a Birkin. And if you do all of the above prerequisites You don't even get to pick the bag they "give" you one. Want a pink colorway? Sorry here's lime green you're welcome.

Now Barry has no knowledge of any of this and just thinks a Birkin is just some overpriced bag. The problem is Iris only likes this one colorway ( Size 35cm, Red Alligator Exterior, Gold hardware, Yellow Slik interior ect.)

This is going to be near impossible.

But In Bruce's mind, Flash did the impossible in bringing back Clark (Bruce thinks Clark was wished back to life because that's the story everyone is sticking to. Because the emotional trauma of letting Bruce know that Clark was alive the whole time rotting away in a grave for 2 years is not on anyone’s todo list.) So he will get this bag Even if it kills him. He's the goddamn Batman.

And all this lead up is to what I'm actually obsessed with

I just love the idea that Bruce is running around Brucie-ing it up to try to get in Hermes' good graces but his image of being a drunk playboy is activity stopping him from buying any bag.

He calls up the Daily Planet and starts setting up all these puff PR-boosting articles to up his image. Which starts rumors becuase Burce Wayne doesn’t do interviews so why now?

Gotham elite catches wind that Burcie Wayne wants a Birkin richest man in America can't get one. So they all start getting Birkins. They ware them to his galas, just to troll Burcie. The elite jump on the waitlist inflating the list to stupid long. Hermes starts to wear the exclusivity of Brucie Wayne as a sign of good taste and prestige. Bruce searches the second-hand market and can't find the colorway Iris's wants.

Bruce goes undercover as a worker for a local Hermes store to become his own sales associate just so he can get around the prejudices of Bruce Wayne image and start racking up a sales history. (He just selling and buying to himself lol.)

So Bruce is playing a luxury salesman using his background of old money and Alfred’s butlering to woo potential buyers. Working his first retail job ever. Having to suck up to management so he can plead his case about Bruce Wayne. Using his access to get informed on what bags are currently available, who’s on the waitlist, where they rank, and criteria on how and what moves you up the list ect.

After months and becoming the number one salesman, he makes his case to allow Brucie Wayne to buy a bag.

It’s declined.

So he switches tactics.

He just makes a new cover as a recently won lottery winner looking to burn cash and wants to burn it with Hermes. And starts a new sale history. Using all of his knowledge and intel about what gets you on the waiting list.

He gets stonewalled a few times by former co-workers that he gets around by blackmailing them with gossip and infractions he witnessed or was told In confidence when he was a fellow sales associate.

Finally, his lottery winner persona is put on a waitlist. The only problem is he’s at the very bottom.

So what does he do?

He suties up As Batman and starts intimidating all those who are higher on the list than his lottery winner cover rocketing him up the list.

He hits a roadblock when he tries to scrace a woman on the list who doesn’t believe he’s actually Batman becuase “Why would Batman even want with a Birkin?”

Which leads to an escalation that gets him an earful from Superman who’s called to the scene by said woman whos terrified after Batman strings her upside down over the edge of her high-rise penthouse.

Clark offers to buy the bag becuase who wouldn’t want that kinda of PR endorsement?

Which Bruce vittamently refuses becuase it would cheapen the gift.

Finally, after a week of terrorizing wait-listers, his lottery winner persona is “given“ the opportunity to buy a bag.

But disaster strikes when that lucky break he thought he got because he was next on the list was actually bad luck becuase the person was bumped off becuase they bought the bag that Bruce had painfully calculated to purchase which was the only bag that would be made in the next 3 years that has the colorway that Iris wanted.

So Bruce tracks down and comforts the buyer in the dead of night as Batman. The buyer freaks out and says they didn't even want this colorway and really wanted a Caranery yellow ostrich skin colorway and if he could get her that one she'd trade for it.

This leads Bruce to play matchmaker for a series of buyers that have Birken Bags they don't love and would trade for their dream bag. And after months of fetch questing and matching sad Birken owners around the world with their dream bags Bruce he pulls it off. He finally gets a Canary, yellow ostrich skin colorway Birkin bag trades it for Iris’s dream bag. Only to find out it was ruined in a car crash that was caused by an alien invasion 2 months before that the JL had a particularly nasty time with and it was Bruce’s Batmobile that was thrown into her parked car.

The bag is a mess the zipper borken, missing hardware, leather scratched. But Bruce so done with everything accepts the trade and takes it back to the cave. Where he proceeds to 3D scan the bag then composite a CAD model and starts to collect all the raw components of the bag himself.

Getting only the best materials (much better than what Hermes was using) Talking to Killer Corc on how to find the best alligator pelts. Flying to India to personally pick out the red dye for the color. Mining the gold for the hardware from an asteroid that was threatening the Watchtower.

After he has everything Bruce proceeds to by hand construct an exact replica of Iris's dream bag. Essentially making the most over-budgeted fake to exist. Where he finally gives it to Barry (who has no inkling of the time and effort Bruce has put into this side project that has taken the better part of a whole year) who jokes in saying “Oh wow takes 12 months to run to the store huh?”

[theguyinthemathexamples]

Guns and... Aeons?

May Aventurine grant his luck upon everyone's Boothill pulls!!!

— C/W : spoilers?, set at the end of the 2.2 quest, boothill is boothill ft. argenti, i forgot what his lore is so take anything i say with a grain of salt, LOTS of yapping, guns and roses sneak, very self-indulgent :3

Boothill never really had much faith in Aeons, much less worshipped any. He already lost it all when he gained the information, that darned rain of fire that destroyed everything, was deployed by a zealot.

Don't get him wrong, he still knew they existed. But he internally wished that maybe, if any Aeon took pity on him on that day, maybe he could have changed the outcome of it all.

Well, that was all in the past now. He'd be a rusted out piece of metal by now if he let himself wallow in bygone events.

A low sigh didn't fail to make itself known, inadvertently catching the attention of the knight just at the other end of the room. Boothill even forgot he was there due to how quiet he was.

"A rose for your thoughts, friend?" The knight inquired, sitting at the other end of the couch. He nearly jumped at the sudden question but was just as quick to regain his composure.

"Nothin' much, just thinkin' and all," he replied, only tilting his head to look at this eccentric friend of his.

Ironic that Argenti was a man quite devoted to an Aeon, especially to a long deceased one, when Boothill was borderline detesting a good amount of them.

"This dadgum pull I've been feelin'... D'you know somethin' about it, knight?"

It was something he'd been feeling for a while now but it's been getting stronger as of late. And the voices... He'll leave those out till Argenti mentions something about it.

To put it frankly, he was worried. Quite more so if nothing else.

"Does it make you feel like wanting to visit the Astral Express, friend?" Argenti inquired shortly after,

Boothill simply nodded, curious as to how this Knight of Beauty knew of such. Sensing his curiosity, said knight certainly wouldn't mind going into the further details.

In fact, he was more than enthusiastic to do so.

"As Idrila's reason to have ascended into Aeonhood, it is only natural that I give high praises to the Aeon of Creation for such magnificence— that THEIR creations have inspired my Goddess to reach THEIR most pinnacle potential."

If this was how he talked about his Aeon and this... well, other Aeon, the two would be here till his batteries run out. And he was just about done recharging to full a few hours ago.

It wasn't till a good amount of minutes into the topic that Boothill kinda got a little impatient. No offense to Argenti, of course.

"And it wasn't till recently that their wondrous consciousness graced the unive—"

"Alright, alright, I get it, knight. Don't mean to offend ya, but can ya get straight to why I felt the pull earlier?" Boothill interjected, looking straight at his companion,

He swore that the way this man shone brightened up even more.

"My apologies if I overwhelmed you, dear friend," Argenti said, giving the cowboy an apologetic bow while he was sitting.

"Simply put, this pull you feel is but the manifestations of the Aeon of Creation! Perhaps your brilliant self captured THEIR attention when you were conversing with the Trailblazer," he continued, yapping up another storm as Boothill thought to himself.

"Seriously? This ol' hunk of metal? Catchin' an Aeon's attention? Colour me fudgin' surprised."

"Ah, this is certainly a moment worth celebrating, don't you think so, friend?" Argenti's voice spoke out, bringing his attention back to the knight.

Yet, before this interstellar cyborg cowboy could even agree or otherwise, a black envelope materialized in front of him, the edges lined with red and gold designs.

One surprise after another, huh?

The knight was quick to encourage him to open it up, taking out a letter opener from who knows where. Well now he's starting to get excited.

A golden Star Rail Pass was the first to get taken out of it, its colour shining in the midst of the room's lights. Next was a neatly folded paper that was probably penned by the Astral Express' Conductor. (Somehow; I mean, look at their itty bitty hands) It reads as follows:

—————————✧—————————

Hello, future Astral Express member, Boothill! This letter has been written by Pom-pom to formally invite you to join the Trailblaze.

By all means, this doesn't mean that you should abandon your faith for any Aeon(s) you may believe in, so long as it doesn't prohibit the other members of the Astral Express from going about their days.

As you may have guessed, yes, the golden ticket provided inside is a very formal way for Pom-pom to ask you to join us, as well as a sign that the Aeon of Creation has taken a liking to you!

To compensate for any forms of distress or trouble their consciousness has caused you, the Astral Express will be willing to offer a living space, electricity, wifi, food, water(gasoline?), as well as any other necessities and wants you may have.

Though if you truly want to seek trouble with the IPC, as the Aeon commented, please leave the Astral Express out of association for any crime you may commit in the future.

If you're ready to take on this journey with the Nameless, as well as many others, please use the ticket once the thought of doing so so much as suggests the notion.

• P.S. : Unfortunately, you don't have much time to mull it over, much less get another letter in this envelope to choose who to cover for you instead.

• The Aeon of Creation awaits your presence. •

—————————✧—————————

As Argenti finished reading the letter aloud, the expectant lilt on his face that he looks at Boothill with catches his attention the most.

"I nearly forgot to mention, dear friend, as a faithful believer of this Aeon, one can assure you that THEY don't mean any harm," he spoke, a smile gracing his lips as he continued. "The blessings THEY give to ones that they favour are quite abundant, and your captivating self truly made its impact on THEM."

"Even THEY couldn't help but praise you endlessly for your courage and demeanor!" Argenti proclaimed, almost making the cowboy in front of him want to tune him out again. ... That last part was a lie.

With a reluctant sigh, finally agreeing with the knight, the golden Star Rail Pass and the envelope in hand, Boothill stood up from his seat and went over to exit his friend's ship— to which Argenti quickly stopped him, hand outstretched for him.

"Need me to lead you there, friend?" He asks, head tilting to his left as his eyes brightened up with that usual glow.

"... Yeah, sure. Ya won't stop botherin' this ol' piece of metal to give ya updates if I said otherwise," Boothill laughed at the end of his reply, taking the knight's hand and letting him lead the way.

Maybe making a decision with a third party beside him won't be so bad.

Note : ong this took WAY TOO LONGGGGG TO MAKEEEEEEE 😭😭

My most sincere apologies to anyone whose patience ran out while waiting for this fic to come out 💔

BUT IT'S OUT NOW SO REJOICE EVERYONE ‼️‼️

Anyways, have a lovely day to all of you !! (disappears for another month)

And yes dw my interp of sahsr/sahsrau will come out maybe around late june once my recognition finally comes to pass