#my life was on hold for a year because of this

[mimiiiiiiiiisstuff]

"Slipping through my fingers"

ok yall this is an emotional one!! it expands more on reader and jason's dynamic before he died and shows why jason is an especially sore spot for reader. it's also jason who she's most vulnerable and willing to forgive.

You and Jason ate the popcorn chicken on your bed in silence. For a moment, you pretended that everything was normal again. That Jason was still just Jason and you were still just you. That he was still your big brother that meant the world to you and that you were still his baby sister who he adored and couldn't go a day without.

For a moment, jason could pretend he wasn't the Red Hood, a vigilante who struck fear even in the darkest of hearts, he could pretend he was just comforting his little sister who meant the world to him.

Jason stares at you, his eyes locked onto yours like he’s trying to burn through the walls you’ve built between you. His breathing is shallow, tight with something unspoken, something raw. He’s been holding it in, holding it all in—his guilt, his regret, his anger—but it’s all starting to crack. The cracks are sharp now, and they’re starting to bleed.

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” he spits, his voice gravelly, thick with the weight of what’s unsaid. “I didn’t want to become this. I didn’t want to lose you.”

You let out a bitter laugh, harsh and mocking, and you can feel the edge of your own frustration clawing at you. “Well, newsflash, Jason, you did. You lost me the moment you decided that pushing me away was the best option. You don’t get to sit there and tell me how you didn’t want to hurt me when you were the one who abandoned me without a second thought. I ran into your arms and you acted like you couldn't care less.”

His jaw tightens and you see something almost vulnerable flicker across his face. But it’s gone in an instant, replaced by something darker; guilt, maybe, but also something like self-loathing.

“You think I wanted to leave? You think I wanted to hurt you?” His voice is quiet, almost deadly calm, but the tremor in his tone betrays him. “I didn’t want to drag you down, okay? I didn’t want to make you part of this... mess I’ve become. I thought if I just kept my distance, kept you away from all the shit in my life, I’d be doing you a favor. ”

“And what the hell makes you think I needed your protection, huh?” You snap back, “You think I couldn’t handle whatever shit you were going through? You think I couldn’t handle you? You never gave me the chance to help. You just shut me out, Jason. Like I was just some... some stranger. Like you weren't the closest thing I had to family. There wasn't anything I wouldn't have done for you. you were my brother. I loved Dick but he was never you.”

Jason’s eyes flash, anger mixing with the guilt, there’s an almost pleading intensity to him now. “I wasn’t protecting you,” he murmurs, voice breaking, just a little. “I was protecting myself. Because every damn time I saw you, I couldn’t stop thinking about how much I needed you. How much I wanted you in my life, and I was so fucking scared that if you stuck around, you’d see everything I was trying to hide. That you’d see how broken I really am. And you didn’t deserve that. You didn’t deserve to get caught up in my shit, in the mess I was making of myself.”

Your heart clenches at the rawness of his words, the vulnerability creeping in, uninvited and unwelcome. You want to scream at him, to tell him he’s a coward, to tell him how much it hurt, how much it still hurts. But instead, you feel a lump form in your throat, something tight, constricting. The years of silence between you, the hurt, the loneliness—it hits all at once.

“You were never a mess to me,” you say, quieter now, as if the weight of his confession is slowly wearing you down. “I knew you, Jason. I knew who you were before all this. The guy I could talk to about anything. The guy who knew me better than anyone. The one who made me feel like I actually belonged. ”

Jason’s eyes widen, his breath catching as if you’ve just hit him in the chest. “I thought about you every day, you know?” he says in a hoarse whisper, his voice trembling. “Every day. You think I didn’t miss you? I thought about those times, the way we used to be... how you would just be there. You and me against the world. I remember laughing with you. Just... sitting there, talking about stupid stuff, and it felt like we were the only two people who really got it. I missed that, more than anything.”

You feel a tightness in your chest at the words, something fragile breaking open. You remember. You remember the late nights, the quiet conversations that meant more than anything else in the world. He was everything to you, back then. But now... now everything is just fractured pieces, fragments that don’t fit together anymore.

“You left,” you whisper, voice shaking, barely audible. “You left me, Jason. You left me without a word, without a reason. And I don’t care how much you missed me. That doesn’t change what you did. How you let her in after years of ignoring me.”

Jason’s face twists in pain, the anger shifting into something else, something raw and regretful. “I thought you’d be better off without me,” he admits, his voice breaking, the quiet words ripping through the space between you. “I thought if I just stayed away, you wouldn’t have to deal with my shit. You wouldn’t have to deal with... me.” His fists unclench, and he runs a hand through his hair, pulling at it in frustration. “I didn’t think you’d need me anymore. I thought I was dragging you down. I was so damn scared of ruining everything we had. But instead, I ended up ruining everything. And I can’t fix that. I know that. I just... I just wanted you to know that I didn’t want to leave. I thought if I stayed, I’d hurt you even more. I thought... I thought it’d be easier to let you go than to keep pushing you away. I was wrong.”

His words hang in the air, heavy and painful, like a confession he’s carried for too long. You want to reach out, to say something—anything—but the words are stuck, lodged in your throat. The vulnerability between you is unbearable, but you can’t ignore the truth in his eyes. He’s not the same person who walked away all those years ago. And maybe, just maybe, he’s not the same person he was when he left. But you don’t know if that’s enough. You don’t know if you can trust him again.

"I wrote to you, you know? When i thought you were.... gone. I wrote to you almost every single day, I figured you'd like it, think it's something out of those books you used to read. It made me feel like you were still with me, like you were watching over me. When you, when you came back, I was convinced I wished you alive." You admitted your childish thoughts, voice breaking in between sobs.

“I don’t even know who you are anymore,” you say, your voice trembling with emotion. “I don’t know who you’ve become. I don’t know if you’re the person who cared about me, the one who sat with me and talked about everything or if you’re just some... some shadow of him. And I don’t know if I’ want to find out. Or if i'm ready to let go and forgive”

Jason stares at you, his face pale, his eyes filled with a mixture of sorrow and frustration. “I don’t expect you to forgive me. I don’t deserve that,” he says quietly, his voice barely a whisper. “But I’m begging you. just let me try to make it right. I’ll prove it to you. I’ll prove that I’m not that guy anymore. I can’t erase what happened. I can't erease Tiffany. I can’t take back the years we lost. But I can try to be the person you used to know. The person you trusted. I can be your big brother again. I can still keep the nightmares away”

The silence between you stretches, each second heavier than the last. You’re caught in the middle—caught between the person you were, the person you are now, and the person he’s trying to be. But for the first time in a long time, Jason isn’t running. He’s not hiding from you. And as much as you want to shut him out, to protect yourself from more pain, something inside you is aching—aching for that connection you once had, aching for the possibility that it’s not too late to fix this.

What really broke you was seeing him cry. It was like you were a child again. It nearly broke your brain seeing Jason, your fearless big brother, your idol, cry.

“We can try” you whisper, your voice small, fragile, like it’s a decision that could break you. " it’s not gonna be easy, Jason. Things cant magically change no matter what we wish."

Jason nods slowly, his eyes never leaving yours, his face stricken with the weight of everything he’s put you through. “I know,” he breathes, barely audible. “But I’m not going anywhere. Not this time. Never again.”

After Jason left, you had to sit and process what happened. In truth, you didn't know if things could ever be the same between you and jason. So many years of neglect and anger couldn't disappear with just a conversation and apology. No, you would make him, them, know what it feels like to be begging for scraps. Maybe things wouldn't be the same with jason, maybe after time and effort, they could be better. You missed him. So much. It would be easier to forgive him than Bruce. Yeah, Bruce is your father but Jason was your hero.

When Bruce reaches your door, he hesitates for a moment. The heavy weight of guilt in his chest is hard to ignore, but there’s something more, something that unsettles him even more than the tension in the air: the fear that you’re slipping through his fingers. That what happened today might have cracked something too deep to repair.

He knocks once, then opens the door.

You’re sitting on your bed, your back to him, staring out the window as if you’re already a million miles away. It’s almost as if you’ve already shut everything out, ready to move on.

His voice comes quietly, strained. " we need to talk.”

You don’t respond, not right away. Bruce steps into the room, quietly closing the door behind him. The air feels heavy, like something’s already been decided, but he won’t let that deter him. He takes a slow, steady breath, trying to calm the rising panic in his chest.

He’s careful, almost too careful, when he speaks again. “I know you’re angry. You have every right to be. But what happened today, what you did to Tim and Damian, it can’t go unanswered. It wasn’t just about the fight. You crossed a line, and I need to know that you’re aware of that.”

You turn slowly to face him, your eyes burning with frustration, and Bruce can see the rawness in them. The anger. The hurt. It cuts through him, deeper than any physical wound ever could.

“And what should I have done, Bruce? Sit there and take it? Let them walk all over me? Let ya'll act like nothing's wrong? Like you didn't ship me away because some bottle blonde bitch said to?” You scoff, the bitterness in your voice thick enough to choke on. “I’m sick of being treated like I don’t matter. Like I’m just an afterthought. You and your little Batfamily can keep pushing me to the side, but don’t expect me to sit quietly while you pretend I’m not even here. Not anymore. Never again”

Bruce’s face tightens with guilt, but he doesn’t back down. “That’s not what I want. I never wanted you to feel that way. I know I haven’t been there like I should have. I know we've all been horrible and cruel. But that’s no excuse for what you did.”

The words sting, but your anger doesn’t dissipate. If anything, it flares up again. You stand up abruptly, pacing, the frustration too much to keep inside. “Oh, I get it. You don’t want me to do anything that inconveniences you or your precious Batfamily. You want me to apologize for fighting back like I’m the one in the wrong here, right? You want me to crawl back to them, all nice and meek, because that’s what you think I should be. What I used to be. But I’m not that person anymore, Bruce. I’m not. And it’s about damn time you realize that. If anything, me and Damian aren't even close to even, he's hurt me before, threatened me before, that always went unanswered. Because fuck me right? Who cares about me? Tell Tim he's welcome to come get his lick back, I wasn't thinking when I hit him.”

Bruce flinches, his jaw tightening at your words. You’re right, he’s failed you. He’s allowed the distance between you two to grow, let it fester until you finally exploded. He’d told himself that you would always be there, that you were part of his family, but he’d taken that for granted.

You were right, Damian was never punished but Bruce would ensure that no one, not even Damian would ever get away with hurting you again.

But then, just when he thinks he has a handle on the situation, you drop the bombshell that completely shatters any control he had left.

You cross your arms over your chest and exhale, your voice soft but full of finality. “I’m leaving tomorrow. For the South of France. I’m staying with Ariel and her dad for the summer.”

The words land like a punch in the gut. Bruce freezes, his hand almost involuntarily reaching out toward you, though he stops himself just short. His breath catches in his throat.

“France?” His voice cracks for the first time since he entered the room. His mind races, how could you leave like this? How could you just walk away? You two were making progress, learning to understand each other. How was he supposed to fix this if you left? Was it that easy for you? Was it that easy for him to lose you? “You can’t.” He states, his tone final and unforgiving.

“I can. I already have everything packed, in fact, I literally didn't even unpack.” You shrug nonchalantly, trying to hide the ache in your chest behind a mask of indifference. “Ariel and I have been talking about this for months, it's our trip.”

Bruce takes a step toward you, voice low and edged with something darker, more possessive. “You’re not leaving. Not like this.”

You shake your head, the fire in your eyes fading just a little, replaced by something more resigned. “You really don’t get it, do you? You’ve barely noticed me, Bruce. You’ve been too busy with your missions, your family, your life, and I’ve been here, waiting. But not anymore. I’m not going to sit around and wait for you to remember I exist. I deserve more than that. That boarding school was the best thing that happened to me.”

Bruce can feel the weight of your words, the sting of rejection, and it makes something inside him snap. He knows he’s messed up. He knows he’s made mistakes. But the idea of you leaving—of you walking away, out of his reach—is something he won’t stand for. Not now. Not when he’s just starting to recognize how badly he’s failed you. Not when he can still feel the resentment rolling off you in waves.

“I can’t let you go,” Bruce says, the words slipping out before he can stop them. His eyes lock with yours, the intensity between you two growing, thick with unspoken emotions. “Not like this. Not when I’m just starting to understand everything that’s been wrong. I’ve messed up, but don’t leave. I’ll fix this. I promise. I’ll fix it.”

You stare at him, unmoving, but the fire in your eyes softens just a little. There’s a flicker of doubt now, a tiny crack in the armor you’ve put up. But it’s not enough. Not yet. Not enough to change your mind.

“I don’t know, Bruce.” Your voice is quieter now, but still laced with hurt. “I don’t know if I can keep doing this. You’re not the person you used to be. And neither am I. Maybe that’s just... something we both have to face.”

Bruce steps closer, close enough now that his presence seems to fill the room, heavy and suffocating in a way that only he can. His hand reaches out slowly, this time not hesitating, and he places it on your shoulder gently.

“I don’t want to lose you, not when I've just started to see you,” he says, his voice hoarse with a desperation he’s never let show before. “I’ll fix this. I’ll make it right. But I need you to stay. I need you here with me, please.”

The words hang in the air between you two, a fragile plea that feels both urgent and terrifying. The mighty Bruce Wayne, billionaire, playboy, the Batman, stood in front of you begging.

You don’t respond immediately. Instead, you stand there, staring at him as if you’re seeing him for the first time in a long while. And maybe, just maybe, there’s a flicker of hope in your eyes. But not enough.

"Compromise. I'll stay with Ariel for two and a half months and i'll come back here for two weeks before school." You say, eyes gleaming with the signature look all Waynes get when negotiating. Yes, you wanted to give him a small chance but there's no way you're backing out of this trip and leaving Ariel and her hot dad hanging. You weren't about to give up a summer of tanning, flirting, partying, and country hopping with your best friends for the chance that you might fix things with your father.

Bruce raised his brows, almost smiling. You were cute when you tried to be tough, but the deal is what made him falter. Two teenagers, two months unsupervised in a foreign country, who knows what could happen? Who knows what kind of influence this Ariel is? But what was really funny was that you talked like you were going back to New York for school! No, you were coming back to Gotham Prep and staying the manor, where you belonged. But Bruce wasn't cruel. He'd let you hope. "We can go as a family, a family vacation. I'll meet your friend and decide if she's trustworthy. I have a villa right in the-"

"No! Please no! I would rather die. This is a girls trip. As in only me and Ariel. We've been planning this forever. I won't cancel. Or bring my family, that's so lame. You never would've cared before." You say almost stomping your feet, playing the guilt card. You couldn't have your family there seeing what you get up to and who you get up to it with!

"One month and you take Dick with you." There was no way you were going alone. Bruce wouldn't cave, nor would he be guilt tripped.

The mighty Bruce Wayne got hustled by his 16 year old daughter. In the end he caved, you would stay with Ariel for two months and two weeks, not a day more nor a day less. You would apologize to Tim and leave tomorrow after a peaceful family breakfast. You would have your location on at all times. Yeah Bruce got played, but as he walked out your room and looked back to see you grinning from ear to ear and calling your friend, jumping up and down, he decided it was worth it to see you this happy.

He would let you have these two months, then you'd be back home where you belonged.

The morning felt too still. Too quiet. The clock ticked on in the background, but it didn’t seem to matter. Every movement felt exaggerated, every breath, every shift of your weight, every step as you made your way around the dining table. It was as if the house itself were holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. Something to shift.

As you went and sat down at the table, it was quiet once again and the air was even heavier than yesterday.

Bruce sat at the head of the table, his face unreadable as he sipped his coffee, eyes occasionally flicking toward you but never fully meeting yours. He was distant, but somehow… present in a way that felt more intrusive than comforting. He hadn’t been this present in years, actually never. Not to you.

Bruce’s gaze didn’t leave you as you walked, his eyes colder than you remembered yesterday. Your fingers tightened around the strap of your suitcase, the weight of his attention pulling at your chest.

Jason sat to his right, his hand resting on his mug with a white-knuckled grip, his expression hard and unreadable. Every so often, his eyes would slide over to you, watching your movements, the way you tucked things into your bag or adjusted the straps of your suitcase. There was something unsettling about the way he looked at you, like he was mentally memorizing every detail, every shift.

Bruce’s gaze was fixed on you as he slid the black card across the table, its dark, sleek surface catching the light just right.

“Take it,” he said quietly, his tone laced with authority. “Use it for whatever you need. You don’t have to go without. Don't forget, you're a part of this family, always have been. I want to make sure you have what you need.”

You almost recoiled at the gesture, the black card a symbol of everything that tied you to this mansion, to this family. It was a physical representation of his control, their attempts to make you feel like you were part of something. But it felt more like a chain. But it is unlimited money... You didn’t take your eyes off him as you slid it into your bag, the tension in the room making your throat dry.

Your outfit—intentionally revealing, a far cry from the usual soft layers you wore when you spent time with them—felt more out of place than ever. The shorts, lulu lemon in the shortest length, the cropped top—it had been a subtle rebellion. A way to assert yourself, to feel free. But now, as their eyes flicked over you, you felt too exposed. Too seen.

Jason’s eyes lingered on your exposed skin, his expression unreadable, but his lips were pressed together in a thin line. There was an edge to his stare, like he didn’t like what he saw, but he didn’t speak. Not directly. His fists were still clenched at his sides, his jaw taut.

Damian’s eyes flicked over you as well, but his anger seemed to burn hotter, sharper. “Pathetic,” he muttered under his breath, too low for anyone else to hear. But it wasn’t meant for you—it was meant for himself, for the way he couldn’t control you. For the fact that you’d gotten away. For now.

And then, there was Bruce. His gaze never wavered, never softened, just cold and steady. He said nothing more about the card, but his eyes held something that felt too heavy to bear. Possession. It hung between them like an unspoken truth. And the way his eyes moved over you—lingering just a little too long on the exposed parts of her skin—made your skin crawl.

Jason’s voice broke through the silence next, but it was low, playful, but edged with something else. Something that made her skin crawl.

“No boys,” he said, his tone playful, even as his gaze flicked to the door. “I don’t care who you’re staying with, but no boys. Got it?”

The playful tone didn’t match the intensity in his gaze, though. She raised an eyebrow, clearly trying to play it off.

“I’m sorry, what?” you replied, letting a smirk cross your face, trying to make it clear that this was just Jason being Jason. They were back to normal.

“No boys,” he repeated, the humor slipping from his voice now, replaced with something colder. “I’m serious. No fucking around while i'm not there. No fucking around in general, figuratively and literally.”

Your heart skipped. You glanced at Bruce, expecting him to give a soft chuckle or a reassuring nod to say it was just Jason being… well, Jason. But Bruce didn’t flinch. His gaze remained locked on you, unwavering. His expression was cold, his lips pressed into a firm line. He wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t even looking amused.

“Jason’s right,” he said, his words steady and resolute. “No boys. Not while you’re here. Not while you’re under this roof.”

You almost scoffed, good thing you weren't gonna be under this roof for long.

You blinked, the sharpness of his words catching you off guard. He wasn’t joking. His posture was rigid, his eyes locked onto yours in a way that almost felt like a command.

Jason didn’t speak again, but the message had been clear.

No boys.

You nodded stiffly, the weight of his demand sitting in the pit of your stomach.

Duke, who had been mostly quiet up until now, was the next to speak, but his voice was softer, more thoughtful, as if he wasn’t quite sure how to handle the situation.

“You don’t have to go. You know that, right?” he said, his voice tentative, though there was an undercurrent of something else—something protective. "We could all go together. It’s better that way."

But his offer hung in the air like a dream you couldn’t quite reach. You could see it in his eyes—a hint of something, perhaps concern, perhaps something more. It wasn’t quite the same as Bruce’s cold stare or Jason’s intense grip on control. But there was an edge to it.

Cass, perched at the far end of the table, seemed as unreadable as ever. But there was something in her posture today—an intensity, like she was bracing herself, like something was about to happen, even if she couldn’t quite put it into words. She didn’t speak, but her gaze tracked every movement, every gesture, as if she were memorizing it.

Tim, seated next to Cass, had barely said anything all morning. His eyes flickered to you now and then, but it was more of a quiet observation, something far too careful and deliberate. He was almost… detached. But there was a coldness in the way he looked at you, like he knew something you didn’t. Like he was waiting.

Barbara was the exception—her smile was too wide, her eyes too bright, like she was trying to convince herself of something she wasn’t sure about. She kept trying to fill the silence with light conversation, but it always felt forced. And when her gaze landed on you, it lingered a little too long.

Steph, across from her, was the only one trying to keep things light. But the way she kept glancing at the door, at the phone on the table, at her own reflection in the polished surface—it was obvious she was uncomfortable. She was nervous. Especially after yesterday. And it was more than just the impending trip.

The room was alive with their watchfulness. It wasn’t just their presence—it was the way they didn’t speak directly to you, but everything they did seemed to be a reminder that they were there, that they could be there.

Damian scoffed from the end of the table and opened his mouth but closed it as Bruce looked at him sternly. He just rolled his eyes and went back to glaring at the wall, muttering things under his breath and gripping the table tightly.

He had been unusually quiet up until now and scoffed from his spot at the table, his eyes narrowed as he shot you a glare so venomous it was almost rivaled your actual venom.

“You think you can just leave, after everything?” Damian hissed, his voice dripping with disdain. His fists clenched under the table. “You think a simple apology makes everything okay? You punched me and left. You don’t just get to walk away from that.”

His anger seemed to grow with each word, but there was something beneath it, something that felt darker than simple sibling rivalry. As if the violation of his personal space and authority left him feeling more than just hurt, but threatened.

You knew that hitting him, striking him with all the force you could muster—had been the culmination of everything you couldn’t say, couldn’t express after all these years. But now, facing him again, you felt the weight of his anger. His rage wasn’t just directed at the punch. It was everything: the way you were walking out. The way you were leaving.

“Alright, listen up,” Dick said, his grin playful, cutting through the tension though his voice carried that same underlying weight. “Rules. You're not running off on some crazy solo adventure without us knowing every detail. I’m serious, okay?” His smile remained, but it was a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’re not a little kid anymore, but that doesn’t mean you get to act like an adult. I’m gonna need you to check in—like, every single day. Got it?”

The way he said it, like it was a joke, yet his tone was so firm that it left no room for argument. And then, with a playful but almost possessive look, he added, “No crazy parties, no boys, no drinking, and if you get yourself into trouble, don't come running back here. Just kidding! If you need anything, call me.”

His words had a strange effect, both reassuring and infuriating at the same time. You didn’t need him or anyone else telling you what you could or couldn’t do, you didn't need him acting like cared. Like he was suddenly your big brother after years of ignoring you and brushing you off.

Dick was still watching you, like he was hoping you’d cave to whatever soft version of control he was offering. “Alright, just... make sure you come back. I know we don’t say it much, but we care about you, okay? I can't change the past but I do regret it and I do love you. Don’t forget that.”

And there it was—his mask slipping for just a second. His voice softened, but there was something underneath it. Possessiveness, cloaked in affection. It was hard to ignore, the way his eyes followed your movements just a little too closely, the way his words lingered like an unspoken demand.

You didn’t respond immediately, your mind swirling with everything you wanted to say, but didn't. Instead, you let the silence hang in the air, a heavy, thick thing. There was something off about the manor now. Something that hadn’t been there before. The way they all watched you, their glances lingering a little too long, the small, subtle ways they tried to control your every movement—it was suffocating, and yet... it was addicting.

It felt nice being cared about, knowing you had control over their feelings now.

Your mind wandered, thinking of the freedom waiting for you in France. The sun, the beaches, the boys, the carefree nights with Ariel and your other friends—the perfect escape from all this suffocating attention. They don’t get it.

And then you realized—it wasn't just you going on vacation. Something would change when you came back.

When the time came, you’d have to navigate this new, tense version of your family. A family who acted like they cared.

The game had shifted, and now you were part of a strange, unspoken power struggle—your power over them was now as much as theirs over you used to be.

As you were leaving to the airport, your family bid you goodbye. None of them were driving you, they all had busy days today. Jason wrapped you in a short, tight hug, telling you to text him when the plane took off and landed and telling you to be careful, his eyes hard and filled with warning.

Something is his tone set you off, you pulled away before you realized it and got in the car, ignoring Bruce and Dick's awkward attempts to hug you and not even glancing at everyone else.

As you pulled away from the manor and watched their figures in the distance, dread pooled in your stomach. You didn't know why but you were already dreading coming back.

OK YA'LL SORRY ITS LATE. Idk why is struggled writing this chapter so much! lmk what yall think of it and why the reader thinks things are off.

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[kashverse]

gojo is the best spouse because he turns you into a legend without you even trying. to know him is to know you—your name slipping past his lips in every conversation, your face proudly displayed on his phone, your stories recounted with a kind of giddy enthusiasm that makes even the most stoic listener crack a smile. there’s no such thing as bad luck when gojo satoru loves you; his eyes alone banish any misfortune that dares to linger. he’ll talk about you to strangers, to cashiers, to police officers who stop him for jaywalking—he doesn’t care. “you think that’s impressive? my partner did something even cooler the other day.” you’re his pride, his joy, the one thing in his life that makes him want to slow down and just exist in the warmth of your presence.

nanami is the best spouse because he redefines what love is supposed to be. it’s not just passion, not just commitment—it’s the quiet assurance that you are valued, that your thoughts hold weight, that your happiness is a priority. he sees you, truly sees you, in ways no one else ever has. he believes in balance; he wants you to chase your ambitions, to work if you wish, to contribute in the ways that make you feel fulfilled. but when it comes to making dinner? setting the table? making sure you eat something warm after a long day? that’s his job, and he won’t hear a word of protest. marriage, to him, is not an obligation—it’s a privilege, a choice he makes every day when he reaches for your hand, when he listens without interruption, when he presses a kiss to your temple and says, “i’m lucky to have you.”

toji is the best spouse because he teaches you that love is not about erasing the past, but honoring it while making space for something new. he carries the weight of old wounds, but never lets them cast a shadow over what he has with you. he never makes you feel like a replacement or a second choice; he loves you for you, not for what you remind him of. he is grateful—so deeply, unbearably grateful—that despite everything, despite the ghosts that sometimes linger in his mind, you chose him. you remind him that love can come twice in a lifetime, that he is not meant to drift through the years alone. “thank you,” he murmurs against your skin, rough hands cradling you like something fragile. “for giving me another chance at this.”

sukuna is the best spouse because he makes you fall in love with the smallest, most insignificant things. love isn’t grand declarations with him, it’s not poetry or flowers or whispered confessions—it’s found in the way he pulls you closer in his sleep, in the way his hand lingers on the small of your back when you walk together. it’s in the extra piece of food he sets aside for you, the grumbled complaints when you forget your coat, the way his touch is always firm but never unkind. it’s absurd, really, that the king of curses finds beauty in the mundane, but somehow, with you, he does. love is a worn-out robe draped over your shoulders because you looked cold. love is a scoff and a muttered, “you’re hopeless,” before he takes over a task you were struggling with. love is him, in all his rough edges and unspoken affections, in the way he looks at you when he thinks you aren’t paying attention—like you are the only thing in this world worth keeping.

[vinocean22]

Why no cappuccino after 11 am in Italy?

A look at Italy's coffee culture

August 29, 2023

Dear coffee lovers,

It's a rule that many of us have come across before, especially when we're in Italy: ‘No cappuccino after 11 o'clock.’ But why is this seemingly strict rule so important in Italian coffee culture? As a passionate coffee expert and barsista with over 15 years of experience in the coffee trade, I, Claudio Brunetti from Nuremberg, would like to give you an insight into the reasons behind this tradition in this blog article.

Italian coffee culture is known and appreciated all over the world. It is characterised by its simplicity, quality and tradition. Every detail, from the selection of the beans to the preparation, is treated with the utmost care. And it is precisely this dedication to coffee that is reflected in the way coffee is enjoyed at different times of the day.........

The morning routine: espresso and latte In Italy, the day often starts with an espresso, a strong and concentrated coffee that is savoured in small quantities. This tradition goes back to the idea that a quick espresso gives the body the caffeine kick it needs to start the day without burdening the stomach. Lattes such as cappuccino or latte macchiato, on the other hand, are traditionally seen as a breakfast option that energises the body.

The rule of 11 a.m. to 12 p.m. at the latest is part of the eating culture But why does cappuccino time in Italy end at 11 a.m. or 12 noon at the latest? The reason lies in the Italian concept of digestion and the timing of meals. Italians believe that dairy products can slow down digestion. A cappuccino, which is known to consist of espresso and milk, is therefore considered a morning option to prepare the stomach for the day.

After lunch, drinking espresso takes centre stage. It is believed that the caffeine in espresso aids digestion and helps the body to recover after a meal. A latte such as cappuccino could interfere with this process, so it is avoided after 11am, or 12pm at the latest. ...................

The preservation of tradition Italian coffee culture is deeply rooted in the country's history and tradition. These rules and customs are part of everyday life and are passed down from generation to generation. Italians value the balance between pleasure and health, and this balance is also reflected in their coffee habits.

As a coffee retailer from Nuremberg, I can say from my own experience that Italian coffee culture has many inspiring aspects. The focus on quality, enjoyment and correct preparation are values that we also value and pass on in our coffee products. The history of coffee is rich, and each country brings its own unique perspective and tradition to the coffee world.

Overall, the ‘no cappuccino after 11 o'clock’ rule in Italy shows how closely culture, tradition and coffee enjoyment are intertwined. This rule may seem strange to some outside of Italy, but it is a wonderful example of how coffee is not just a drink, but an important part of life and culture.............................

With this in mind, I invite you to discover Italian coffee culture and perhaps try out the cappuccino rule for yourself to better understand the reasons behind it. Because coffee is not just a drink, but a journey through history, tradition and flavour. The variety of reactions to the viral video, which shows a stoic Italian woman in a Roman piazza holding up a sign that reads ‘No cappuccino after twelve please’, emphasises the cultural significance of this rule. The video, which was published on the TikTok channel @romeitalytravel, has attracted widespread attention with almost 16 million views.

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The caption of the video reads: ‘Only Italians would understand’ and is accompanied by the typical Italian hand gesture. The reactions of the surrounding waiters, who watch the ‘cappuccino protest’ with a grin, confirm this view. The video has now collected over 1.5 million likes and more than 10,000 comments. While some German users reacted with astonishment or perhaps even caught out, others directly called for a counter-movement. One user commented: ‘Is it still possible? Who wants to tell me when I should drink a cappuccino?’ Another shared his personal experience: ‘I was in an Italian restaurant and wanted to drink a cappuccino before my meal, but the reactions were more than surprising.’ And user @BongoCat suggested a humorous response: ‘As you do to us, so we do to you’ and called for the introduction of a ‘no beer before four’ movement.

These discussions and reactions illustrate the fascination with Italian coffee culture and the way in which traditions and habits characterise people's everyday lives. Ultimately, the ‘no cappuccino after 11 o'clock’ rule is not just about proper digestion, but also about immersing yourself in a culture that embodies a deep love and respect for the enjoyment of coffee.

Savoury greetings,

Claudio Brunetti Coffee expert and barista from Nuremberg via

[hypokeimena]

In recent years, there has been a rush on the internet to supply image descriptions and to call out those who don’t. This may be an example of community accountability at work, but it’s striking to observe that those doing the most fierce calling out or correcting are sighted people. Such efforts are largely self-defeating. I cannot count the times I’ve stopped reading a video transcript because it started with a dense word picture. Even if a description is short and well done, I often wish there were no description at all. Get to the point, already! How ironic that striving after access can actually create a barrier. When I pointed this out during one of my seminars, a participant made us all laugh by doing a parody: “Mary is wearing a green, blue, and red striped shirt; every fourth stripe also has a purple dot the size of a pea in it, and there are forty-seven stripes—”

“You’re killing me,” I said. “I can’t take any more of that!”

Now serious, she said it was clear to her that none of that stuff about Mary’s clothes mattered, at least if her clothes weren’t the point. What mattered most about the image was that Mary was holding her diploma and smiling. “But,” she wondered, “do I say, Mary has a huge smile on her face as she shows her diploma or Mary has an exuberant smile or showing her teeth in a smile and her eyes are crinkled at the edges?”

It’s simple. Mary has a huge smile on her face is the best one. It’s the don’t-second-guess-yourself option. My thinking around this issue is enriched by the philosopher Brian Massumi’s concept of “esqueness.” He exemplifies it by discussing a kid who plays a tiger:

One look at a tiger, however fleeting and incomplete, whether it be in the zoo or in a book or in a film or video, and presto! the child is tigerized… The perception itself is a vital gesture. The child immediately sets about, not imitating the tiger’s substantial form as he saw it, but rather giving it life—giving it more life. The child plays the tiger in situations in which the child has never seen a tiger. More than that, it plays the tiger in situations no tiger has ever seen, in which no earthly tiger has ever set paw.

Just as the child and an actual tiger are not one bit alike, the words Mary has a huge smile on her face have nothing in common with the picture of Mary holding her diploma. Yet the tiger announces something to the world, its essence, and a kid can become tiger-ized and be tiger-esque, their every act shouting, I am a tiger. The picture of Mary at her graduation is shouting something, and the words Mary has a huge smile on her face are also shouting something. It is at the level beyond each actuality, in the swirl that each stirs up, that the two meet.

(from Against Access, by John Lee Clark - link in notes)

[asaltysquid]

I've been reflecting a lot on this piece as of late since my body has changed dramatically over the two years.

I am now oddly enough. Skinny.

My entire life I fought with my own skin both due to the latent fatphobia embedded into our society but also just due to being trans, fatness emphasized everything I wanted to rip off of myself. Being skinny became equated to not only desirability but passability.

But no matter how much I tried I just couldn't lose that weight and it wasn't until about three years ago when I really started to deconstruct transmedicalism that I also began to deconstruct my internalized fatphobia.

Without going into too much detail, due to OCD i detransitioned for a bit in which I spent some time in those spaces and found, to my surprise, most of the angry vitriolic ex trans people were trans meds who had been "so sure" because they hated being a woman so much, not the so called "trenders".

So I realized that if I was going to transition it was because I was happier as a man not because I was miserable as a woman...and this began to slide into other aspects of my life including weight. For more than a decade I abused my body and health to try and achieve the skinniness I thought I wanted but it only made me more miserable. When I started to allow my body to just be and trust it with itself...I found joy and desirability. ((Also drawing a wider range of bodies helped with this as did finding men I enjoy and find handsome who I could see myself in))

Now, I work pretty much full time. T has hit me like a truck in the weight distribution department. And I look how 17 year old me would have always wanted to look.

And you know what? I miss being chubby. I miss the space my body took up and the heft it gave me. I miss the way my body hair spread over it. I miss the weight it gave my neck and jaw. I miss being larger than my partners and holding them with my everything.

Just..for the first time in my life..I want to gain weight. And that makes me really happy. But for now I'm just going to let my body do what it does and trust I will take the form I need to.

I don't really know exactly what I'm trying to say with this except for - trans mascs I love you deeply and the amount of you who have felt seen by this piece fills me with immense joy. Please don't rob yourself of joy to try and make yourself what you think the world needs you to be. Trust that whatever shape or size you are you have worth and you are beautiful.

The world is better with you in it.

Self Portrait I’m calling “Twink Death” and is about me learning to accept gaining weight and my body shape as the Italian stallion I am😔

Basically trans male fatness is something that has been on my mind as it feels society puts such a pressure on Ftm people to be either effeminate and twinkish or perfectly passing and fit to be desirable, and where self love and attraction comes in for trans mascs who are neither of those things

There's more I could wax poetic about but alas I'm sleepy.

[megalony]

Heir To Rome- Part 2

Here is the second part to my newest Emperor Geta fic, I hope you will all like it.

Feedback is always appreciated.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyje @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @kyky9103 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra848484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana @shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @lolalolsstuff @jupiter1700 @ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost @lunaroserites @houseoftwistedspirits @callsignwidow @winterreader-nowwriter @reneinii @bellsbomb @western-pyro @itsgigikay @harry-satellite @midsummereve1993 @babyqueen17 @buckyyyismahhlife @sammiejane22 @mrsyixingunicorn10 @op-81-lvr-reblogs @talicat713 @niamhmbt @strawberry-canyon @bieberhoodforever @911fangirlie @hollandxxmix @jasmineee05 @creat1venat1onn @devilslittlehelper @darlingcharling-blog

@ajourneyforjoy @wanderingaimlessly99

Main Masterlist

Part 1

Summary: (Y/n) and Geta have a son, an heir, a Prince. But things get tricky when an attempt is made on the newborn Prince.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Geta gave the door a quick shove until it clicked shut behind the maid who scuttled out of the room without needing to be dismissed verbally. All of the servants had come to realise that they would have to sweep in and out of the Emperor's room quickly and efficiently. Their usually slow and tiresome tasks such as changing and making the bed, tidying the room and replacing the glasses and bowls of fruit weren't important right now. Not this week.

This week, Geta didn't want any interruptions or clattering about and people milling in and out of their room. He had made it clear that this week he wouldn't be attending most of the usual daily meetings and tasks he would usually do. He wasn't attending any dull or angered meetings, he wasn't seeing to state affairs or dealing with the inadequacy of the Senates.

For this week, or as long as he could possibly manage, Geta was staying in his chambers with his wife and son and no one would even think to stop him. The only person who wasn't so thrilled about this was Caracalla, but because he was the one person who was allowed to bustle in and out of the room without question, he wasn't too irritated.

He got to come and visit his nephew on a daily basis and most of the meetings and dealings this week would be rather slack and easy going so Caracalla was satisfied.

Adjusting the newborn in his arm, Geta turned on his heels and slowly padded across the room towards the bedroom.

Seeing how he wasn't leaving the room, all he had decided to wear was a simple robe. There was no need to be formal or dress up in his usual silks or his armour and uniform when he wasn't going anywhere or going to be seen by anyone but a few odd servants. He could walk around the room barefoot with his robe half undone and there was no one but his wife to see- and admire- him.

A fondness spread across (Y/n)'s lips when she turned her head towards the door and saw a sight that swelled her heart. Her husband looked so natural and relaxed holding their son, as if it was his life's purpose that he had been waiting for for years.

She liked how his hair was slightly askew, especially towards the back where a few strands were stuck out like loose points of hay in a haybale. And his robe wasn't properly tied at the front, leaving it to slide off the left shoulder and expose Geta's pale skin to (Y/n)'s tired but fond eyes. The loose robe also allowed the newborn in Geta's arms to cuddle against his bare chest.

Fatherhood looked good on him.

"Are you hungry?" Geta advanced towards the bed with his eyes locked on his wife. He took in the way she was sat on the edge of the bed with her hands tapping on the mattress either side of her thighs like she was making sure she didn't suddenly fall backwards and lie down again.

He walked over until he was stood in front of her legs and when her thighs parted, he took another step closer until he was stood between her thighs. And he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to her temple.

Geta was sure that the maids were secretly relieved that they didn't have to stay and observe or wait around when they brought food up to the room. He was sure they were pleased that they weren't needed and that Geta barely spoke to them. He knew a lot of the servants feared his temper, something which had been mellowed down greatly since he married (Y/n).

But it was relaxing to have the maids run in and out without really disturbing them or staying to watch and wait to clear the trays. They brought food and drink and then scarpered off. The couple were left alone. The only interruption was the wet nurse when she took their son to his own room for the evenings.

"A little." (Y/n) murmured quietly while she leaned forward and placed her hands on Geta's hips while she pressed her lips to his exposed torso that wasn't covered by the loose robe. Her light touch caused shivers to run up and down Geta's chest and he did his best not to stand and jitter or squirm out of her touch.

He had been quite surprised yesterday that (Y/n) had woken feeling tired but refreshed and seemed to gather bounds of energy. He had walked the length of their bedroom more times than he cared to count, pacing around slowly but happily with (Y/n) in his arms when she needed to stretch her legs but couldn't walk unaided. It also surprised him that (Y/n) was starting to get her appetite back when the healer suggested that she might not be hungry at all and it could take days to get her appetite back.

But (Y/n) was still feeling a little queasy and she didn't dare eat too much and indulge herself only to be sick afterwards. Light meals little and often was the safest option for now.

"Good," His voice was as soft and gentle as his touch when he moved Gaius into his left arm and coiled his other arm around (Y/n)'s waist to help her up. He loved the feel of both of them in his arms at once and (Y/n)'s hands on his arms and her lips on his collar bone.

He attached his lips to her temple as they stood there, entwined together and enjoying the silence that surrounded them. Peace and quiet wasn't something that they got much of, and moments alone together like this was a rarity too. They were going to bask in these moments for as long as they could.

"There will be games at the colosseum next week in your honour, to celebrate." Geta's words were hushed against her temple and (Y/n) found herself smiling as she stayed pressed up into his chest with her lips glued to his collar bone.

She had a feeling that there would be some sort of celebration organised sooner or later. Whether they had a son or a daughter, Geta would want to celebrate and so would the people of Rome. They had already heard that there was cheer throughout Rome about the news of the Prince and the games would make the people even happier and give more cause to celebrate. It would also help to keep the peace and keep the people's spirits up.

"And what about Gaius?" (Y/n) leaned her cheek on Geta's exposed shoulder as his hand began to softly glide up and down the centre of her back. While he guided them towards the table at the far end of the room laid out with a few sweet meats, various fruits and wine.

She moved one hand down to gently glide her fingertips over the back of their son's head while he dozed peacefully in the crook of Geta's arm.

When she tilted her head back to look up at Geta, she found his brow quirked and that soft smile still playing on his features as he looked between her and their boy. They both knew what she was referring to. Geta had barely wanted to take his eyes off his son since the moment he had been born and (Y/n) was much the same, she didn't like it when he wasn't within her sights.

Leaving the palace and going to the colosseum meant leaving Gaius all day. Not having him with them, not having him in their arms or by their side or in the next room. That thought wasn't appealing to either of them.

(Y/n) grinned when Geta's lips smothered her temple as if to cover the sigh that parted his lips.

"He's too young for that kind of celebration, we won't be parted from him for long."

As much as the thought enticed Geta to take their boy with them to the colosseum, that wouldn't happen for another two years or so. Geta didn't want the people seeing their son yet, he didn't want them to gaze upon him until he was older. He wanted to shield his boy, and taking him out of the palace was too risky. He wouldn't be leaving the palace for months, maybe years, yet.

She laid her cheek on his shoulder once again and kept her hand cradling the back of Gaius's head while the pair of them stood, entwined. Neither one wanting to break this moment they had created, after all, they had all day to lounge around and eat, this moment could last a while longer.

(Y/n) could feel herself becoming lost in her thoughts until she felt Geta's nose nudging against her temple which he kissed lightly before he tilted his head down to look at her better.

"Such a pretty smile, what're you thinking?" His head angled down more so his nose could nudge against hers and he could attach his lips to hers while he made sure to keep his left arm locked to secure his sleeping son against his chest.

"Just how soft my merciless Emperor looks right now."

It was no secret that people feared both Emperors. They were seen to be uncaring, cold and merciless at the best of times. They ended more lives than they saved in the colosseum, they ordered executions and had severe punishments for anyone who disrespected them or broke the law.

But seeing Geta right now, people would think this man and the merciless ruler he could be, were two completely different people. He looked so serene, so caring and soft in this moment that (Y/n) couldn't believe how different he was when he was around her. And when he was around their boy too.

She felt him murmur "Only for you," against her lips and it made her smile widen.

She knew that. (Y/n) knew that Geta was only like this around her and their boy, and of course Caracalla depending on their moods. She knew Geta's heart would only go soft like this for her. And she knew that he would become more ruthless than the people of Rome had ever seen if anything were to threaten his family.

He would spill all the blood in the world if anyone threatened his family. They were his everything.

***

A small groan burned at the back of (Y/n)'s throat as she turned her head to the left and nuzzled her cheek into the pillow. Her nose scrunched up slightly and her lips curled as she tried to decipher what was tickling her skin and causing shivers to run down her spine towards her toes.

When her lips moved and she took in a deep breath, a warmth spread across her as she worked out what the feeling was.

It was Geta's hair. It took a moment or two for (Y/n)'s senses to figure themselves out and realise how her husband was laid, but once she did, it made her feel relaxed and as if she were melting into the bed.

He had his face tucked up into the crook of her neck, each soft breath and sigh that he made fanned against her throat and ignited her nerves now that she was somewhat alert. She could feel his nose against the column of her throat and his lips were ever so slightly parted like he was about to sink his teeth into her skin.

She could feel his left arm laid heavy across her upper chest like a barrier of protection which was also helping to pin her down. If she moved one inch away from Geta, he would feel it and shuffle closer. It was always (Y/n)'s delightful experience that if she rolled too far away from Geta, he would subconsciously move too until he had her back as close as he wanted- or needed, her to be.

She wasn't sure where his other arm was, it was probably draped over the pillow somewhere. But she could feel his chest slowly rising and pressing into her arm and side and she felt his leg that was draped over hers so his knee was resting in between her thighs.

It was almost as if Geta was afraid that she might disappear during the night. He held her so tightly even when his brain shut down and he managed to get some sleep for a few hours. But (Y/n) knew it wasn't really a fear of losing her in the night. It was comfort; he had grown attached to sleeping with her close by. He liked to have at least an arm draped around her or to have her head on his chest.

Clearly tonight it was more comforting to be wrapped around her like another blanket. (Y/n) didn't mind. It was soothing to her too.

She turned her head just a little more until her nose and lips were pressing down into Geta's hair that would surely be askew in all directions by now. He tossed and turned so much before he actually managed to sleep that in a morning, his hair looked like a birds nest.

She inhaled the soothing scents and oils that were woven into Geta's golden locks while she flopped her right hand on his arm.

It didn't take long for her brain to shut down again and she stayed with her head tilted down, nuzzling into Geta's hair.

It felt like an eternity had passed while they slept, but (Y/n)'s body jolted as if she had become possessed when a thunderous noise resonated throughout the room. Her eyes shot open and her chest bolted up from the bed as a shriek escaped her lips.

She felt the jolt than ran through Geta, the noise had clearly awoken him too and he startled up from where he had been laid over her.

His left hand pressed down into the mattress right next to (Y/n)'s chest so his arm was still caged over her chest and he pushed up awkwardly on his hip to try and sit up. While his other hand fumbled around to try and find the thin blade that was always hidden safely beneath one of the many pillows on their bed.

It didn't matter that they had hundreds of guards trained and charged with protecting them. Geta didn't want to run into the risk of someone being skilled enough to sneak past the guards and find himself vulnerable with no weapon to defend himself or his wife.

His fingers curled around the blade while he swiftly spun off his hip so he was sitting upright in the bed properly. His other hand retracted from (Y/n) when she sat up and curled her hands around the arm closest to her. Her lips merged with his bare shoulder while Geta looked wildly around the room, trying to find the source of the noise.

It had sounded so close, so deafening and booming as if a canon had been let off in their chambers.

Another thunderous noise broke out, louder this time, and (Y/n) jumped when a beacon of light shone into their room. It was the door. Their bedroom door had been flung wide open, revealing the dark silhouette of a guard stood in the doorway with the flicking light from candles and hallway torches lighting up behind him.

(Y/n)'s hands tightened around Geta's arm and she inched a little closer to him with her chest pressing up into his bare back. Her chin pressed down into his shoulder as she tried to take deep breaths to calm down her erratic heartbeat.

She could feel each rise and fall of Geta's chest that was throbbing and heaving and there was a subtle shaking setting in his system. He looked like he was riled up and about to explode.

His usually pale complexion was swiftly changing into a bright red that was swarming his face and seething down his neck. The end of his nose started to crinkle and his upper lip curled into a snarl as he stared down the guard who was visibly quaking in his boots.

"What is the meaning of this?" The dangerous tone to Geta's voice made the guard advert his eyes down to the floor for a moment.

He clearly knew what he had done. It was no secret that both Emperors hated people barging in and interrupting or disturbing them without knocking like this. If the guard didn't have a good reason then he was going to be out of a job and quite possibly sent to the cells for a few days as punishment.

The guard stepped closer which seemed to be a bad move as Geta visibly snarled when he moved towards the foot of the bed. But he didn't want to be raising his voice to be heard, he needed to be closer so he could discuss the issue at hand with the Emperor and Empress.

"Apologies, Emperor, but- but the Prince-"

Those few stuttered words were enough to enrage a fire within Geta and cause shockwaves to rattle through (Y/n).

What was wrong with her baby? Was her little boy alright? He couldn't be if the guards were bursting in here in the middle of the night with such panic. But why guards? Why not the wet nurse or the maids who were in charge of the Prince's care? Why weren't they the ones coming in here to explain whatever was wrong.

"Is he alright?" (Y/n)'s voice came out high pitched in alarm and her nails started to pierce into Geta's arm until he roughly threw the covers to one side and slammed to his feet.

His body was shaking and his jaw began to grind from left to right as he reached for his robe and slung it on carelessly as he moved to stand before the guard. He inclined his head to one side, staring down the guard who was now visibly panicking.

Geta's hands were at the point of trembling as he tied the blood red robe around his waist. He couldn't exactly be storming the halls with nothing on, it wasn't a sight the maids were permitted to see.

"Does he need a healer?" Concern and aggravation flooded Geta's voice as he waited impatiently to be told what was the matter with his son.

This was the only time that Geta wouldn't oppose to someone bursting into their room without knocking, in the middle of the night. If someone had news of his boy or something was wrong then Geta would never be upset. He wanted any news of his boy to come before anything else, he would always put (Y/n) and Gaius's health before all others.

A shiver coursed down his spine when he felt (Y/n) glue herself up against his back once she scrambled off the bed. Her hands shakily found his hips and her lips and nose meshed into the back of his shoulder, but it was as if he could feel the paranoia coming off of her in waves.

Did Geta need to find the healer? Was their boy unwell? It was no secret that there was a high mortality rate for newborns. They contracted so many diseases and often died from sickness and fever. Of course, being here in the palace meant their son had a higher chance of thriving. Clean water, the best of foods, healers on demand, no poverty and disease succumbing to the palace.

But none of that secured the Prince's health. Anything could cause the wind to change and have him take gravely ill.

He was only two weeks old. They couldn't have anything wrong with him now, nothing serious could be wrong with him. And they couldn't lose him. God forbid they lose him. (Y/n) wouldn't know how to cope or what to do with herself if their little boy passed away.

"No, no he's not ill… sire, someone tried to take him."

Geta's head ticked to the side as if he thought he couldn't possibly have heard the guard properly.

Take him? Someone had gotten into the palace and had tried to snatch the Prince? Or had someone working within the palace tried to take him? Why would anyone try and take their boy? How could that even happen?

The Prince was on the same floor as them, he was right down the hall with his nurse maid. Guards were posted throughout the palace, but more were stationed on this floor where both Emperors, the Empress and the Prince were. No one should have been able to sneak past every guard and get into the Prince's chambers.

"What?" Geta's voice dropped down to an ungodly level as the redness continued to spread across his features and he found his hands balling up into fists at his sides.

"Where is he?!"

"Still in the nursery, Empress."

That was all (Y/n) needed to hear. Her baby hadn't been snatched during the night and taken somewhere far away. He was still here, they hadn't managed to get away with him.

(Y/n)'s hands dropped from clutching Geta's arm and her legs were moving before she even knew what she was doing. The slight cramping in her abdomen didn't slow her down and the fact that she was merely in her night gown didn't cross her mind at all. It didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was reaching her boy and making sure he was alright and unharmed.

One hand reached down to scrunch up the bottom of her gown so she didn't trip over or get her feet tangled and her other hand gripped the wall to use as leverage to propel herself through the doorway. She shot through their adjoining chamber and out into the hall, barely hearing her husband's distant call of her name following behind her.

Fury spilled over inside Geta as he reached his hand out and crashed his palm against the guard's shoulder, causing him to stumble backwards.

"Get the General." Each word was sneered with venom before Geta hurried to try and match pace with his wife who was already out the door.

He was surprised how fast she managed to move considering it was the middle of the night and she was still recovering after only having Gaius two weeks ago.

Each breath that raged past Geta's lips caused his chest to heave and he felt like he was starting to go lightheaded. A growl rumbled deep within his chest as he barrelled into the dimly lit corridor that was now ablaze with people moving in all directions. Stirred by the commotion of the night.

His hand reached out to rest on (Y/n)'s shoulder when he finally caught up with her just as she slammed open the door to their boy's chamber.

The words "Where is he?" Seemed to tumble from both their lips at the same time. (Y/n) scanned her rabid eyes around the room until she found the wet nurse who was to stay with the Prince at all times unless he was with the nurse maid. They were both charged with looking after him unless he was in his parent's presence. It was their job to nurture him, but not to protect him from attacks like this.

(Y/n) looked over the nurse who was a few years older than herself. Her hair was tousled in all directions, her frame was shaking and she looked as pale as a pitcher of milk. There was a look in her eyes that resembled terror and it made (Y/n)'s stomach clench. Did she think they were going to punish her for any of this? Did she think she was somehow at fault for any of this?

The nurse seemed to understand what (Y/n) wanted without her needing to say a word at all for the elder lady lifted her trembling arms in (Y/n)'s direction. She bowed her head down when (Y/n) hurried forward and took her son into her own arms.

Tears began to stream down (Y/n)'s face as she bound her baby to her chest and took a step back towards Geta. Her eyes fell closed and her head tilted down until her lips and nose were softly pressed against the newborn's head. She could feel each whimper and cry he let out vibrate through to her heart that was pounding against her ribs so much it felt like they were beginning to fracture.

Her boy was shaking too. His little arms were bashing against (Y/n)'s chest as he writhed and wriggled in her arms, clearly distraught at the commotion that was happening around him. His features were screwed up, his lips were wet from crying and wailing and he was beginning to sniffle now too.

(Y/n) moved her hand to cup the back of his head and she began to glide her thumb across the small tufts of hair while her other arm encased him to her chest. She tried her best not to squeeze him too tightly, she didn't want to hurt him but she wanted to soothe him and stuff him into her heart to keep him safe.

She felt Geta's hands reaching for her again. One hand gripped her shoulder so he could glue his chest up against her back and his other arm carefully encased around (Y/n)'s so his hand could cradle the back of their son's head.

He tilted his head down so his lips were pressing against the side of (Y/n)'s temple and he tried his best to control his breathing and regulate his system that was starting to overload. But Geta couldn't help how riled up he felt. He employed these people to protect his family, not to allow people to get close enough to try and harm them.

His chest heaved against (Y/n)'s back and a fire burned within his eyes that began to roam around the room, checking for anything that was out of place and any sign of what had really happened in here tonight. But something caught Geta's eye and caused his breathing to stutter.

His lips broke apart from (Y/n)'s temple and his hand tightened around her shoulder as he leaned to the left and peered down at the marble floor near the crib.

Blood.

There were droplets of blood on the floor. A small table had been knocked over. Blankets and towels and bowls were scattered across the floor, showing some signs of a struggle. The window was smashed. Had that happened during the struggle or was that how someone had gotten in? If so, how did they know that this was the Prince's room?

Geta didn't feel like he could breathe at all when he leaned his head over (Y/n)'s shoulder and moved both arms around her waist so he could reach over for their boy. His hands skimmed across the newborn, checking the silks draped around his small frame to see if any specks of blood could be seen. He checked his arms, his face and neck and across his chest, but there was no sign of any scratches or cuts of even the beginning of a bruise. He looked okay.

A frown furrowed on (Y/n)'s features at the sudden urgency in Geta's movements but when she cast her eyes down and noticed the blood on the floor, she shivered.

"Are you hurt?" Her eyes locked on the nurse and she tried to assess whether the elder woman had any abrasions or cuts too.

"No, my lady. T- they tried to take him from the cradle, I called for help… the guard wounded one of them."

One of them. That meant that there had been at least two or maybe three people who had tried to take their son. Just the thought had (Y/n) shivering and cowering back into Geta whose arms tightened around her waist in some small sense of reassurance.

"Where are they?" Geta turned his head to look at one of the guards who was stood just behind the door like he was lying in wait for anyone else to try and break in and sneak up on them.

"They absconded-"

"You let them get away?!"

(Y/n) couldn't help the way she flinched in Geta's arms that tightened around her like binding ropes. His voice was guttural and echoed off the walls along with their boy's whimpers and cries. She felt the deep breath Geta took to try and control his temper that was starting to drift out of his reach. And the feeling of his lips smothering her temple again was soothing for both of them.

How could they let them get away? How could they wound them but not badly enough to be able to catch them? They were supposed to be trained, lethal, without mercy. They were supposed to keep everyone safe. Letting attackers get out of the palace didn't count as keeping them safe.

"What if they come back? They- they could have killed him!" (Y/n) could feel the panic rising within her and it caused her stomach to twinge and ache and a horrible crushing feeling tightened within her chest.

Her knees began to tremble and she felt herself doubling over slightly, still with her baby boy encased safely in her embrace. If they couldn't keep him safe then what were (Y/n) and Geta to do? They would have to keep him with them at all times. They would have to watch over him at every moment to try and ensure his safety and that he came to no harm. They couldn't have this happening again.

"Sit down-"

"No." (Y/n) shook her head and writhed in Geta's arms when he tried to move her towards one of the chairs.

She didn't want to sit and wallow in here. She didn't want to sit and panic and listen to their pathetic excuses over how they failed to do exactly what they were trained and paid for. It wasn't right. It wasn't fair.

"Y-you're supposed to keep him safe." She sneered each word at the two guards stood near the door before she pulled out of Geta's embrace and stormed out of the room. Her son still safe in her arms.

Geta mumbled something along the lines of "Go and rest." Towards the wet nurse because she had been through an ordeal. She could go to the kitchens and find herself some wine to settle her nerves or retire to one of the rooms for the rest of the night. She wasn't needed at the moment, the Prince wouldn't be leaving his parent's sights.

His hands began to tremble when he raised them to run along his face to try and calm himself down.

The moment he lowered his hands and looked towards the two guards stood trembling at the back of the room, he felt like he was going to combust. They were staring back at him as if they hadn't done anything wrong, as if they weren't culpable for any of this. And it infuriated him.

"Emperor, we tried-"

"You tried? You let them get away, it's by no great mercy that my son hasn't been slain in his sleep."

It felt pretentious that they could stand there and try to tell him that they had tried. They clearly hadn't tried hard enough. They hadn't done anything to stop the perpetrators from escaping. They had barely done enough to stop the Prince from coming to any harm.

"He is my heir!" His words echoed off the walls as his seething voice had spit foaming past his lips.

That was why this had happened. Gaius was the heir, he was the one who would take the throne next. He would be the next Emperor after Geta and Caracalla passed, whenever that may be. He was the succession, he had secured Geta and Caracalla's place on the throne as now there was an heir that no one could dispute.

But if any harm came to the heir then the succession might not be secure. Taking him meant after Caracalla and Geta passed, the throne would be in jeopardy.

Well Geta would not allow any harm to befall his son.

"He will succeed us and take the throne, anyone who tries to harm him is a traitor. And traitors don't get to live." He wouldn't have anyone getting away with this. Once the perpetrators had been found, they would be dealt with accordingly. By Geta himself.

He would make an example of them to ensure this didn't happen again. He wasn't having anyone else think they could try their luck at harming the Prince. They might try and harm Geta and (Y/n) or Caracalla. An example had to be maid to deter any other subjects from trying this too.

Both guards found themselves nodding, but their gazes were set on the floor so they didn't have to face the Emperor's wrath. They still didn't know whether they were going to receive a form of punishment for this.

"He will inherit all of Rome. You are supposed to protect him; see to it that no more harm comes to my son."

With that being said, Geta made sure to keep his gaze set dead ahead of him, not bothering to look towards either of the guards who had disgraced him. When Geta found out exactly which guards had failed at their posts, he would make sure they were dealt with sufficiently and replaced as soon as possible.

The feeling of the cold marble floor against his bare soles was somehow relaxing and calming and it stopped the fire within him from spreading too far and wide.

He raged back down the hall and stormed into their chambers once again and he cast his eyes around the room. There were now two servants stood in the room, looking rather like statues with how uncertain and useless they seemed.

"Out." The click of Geta's fingers pointing towards the door was enough to make them scarper.

They weren't needed. He wasn't sure why they had even rushed in here. What did they think they could do? Did they think he and (Y/n) wanted them to stay and pour wine and talk with them? They didn't need anything except the protection that their guards were clearly failing to give.

Once they were gone from his sights, Geta turned and slammed the door shut with such force that the pillars and walls began to tremble in fear of facing his wrath. He spun on his bare heels and started trudging towards the bedroom, but as he did, he noticed that candles had been lit all around the room.

The servants were good for something, then.

He could feel his heart aching and clenching in his chest when he walked into the bedroom. (Y/n) was sat on the end of the bed, her feet anxiously tapping against the rug, her lips smothered against the top of their sons head who had finally ceased his crying. And she was slowly swaying back and forth, whether that was to calm her down or Gaius, Geta couldn't be sure.

"They almost took him." Her words were so quiet that Geta almost missed them but when he heard, his shoulders slumped and he sighed. He advanced towards her until he was stood in front of her so that her knees were bumping into his each time she tried to rock back and forth.

"I'll make sure the guards find whoever did this; Acacius will find them. They won't get away with this."

When a tear trickled slowly down (Y/n)'s cheek, Geta knelt down until he was in front of her with his chest pressing against her knees and his hands gently cupping both of her thighs. He leaned forward and pressed a slow, tender kiss against her thigh before he tilted his head back to look up at her. And one hand tenderly reached up to brush along the back of their son's head.

"Geta, he- he has to stay with us."

(Y/n) couldn't let him go. Not after what had happened. She didn't want their boy to be in a different room to them, let alone be out of their sights for longer than a few seconds. They had to protect him, they both knew why someone had tried to take him. Their boy had to be protected.

"He's not leaving my sight. Neither of you are." Geta's hand moved from the back of their boy's head to reach up for (Y/n) instead. His thumb swiped across the few tears starting to trickle down her face again and his fingers caressed and tickled the back of her neck.

He wasn't having either his wife or son leave his sights after this. They were both going to stay with him until he knew it was truly safe to trust the guards with protecting them again. With protecting what was most important to Geta.

[thatonesonicfanfictionwriter]

Ahem I have a request if it's no problem-

So hear me out a shadow the hedgehog x reader where the reader was a scrapped project in the line for project shadow. Proving not to be strong and was sealed away for not being of use to the quest for the ultimate lifeform. Then g.u.n found you and trained you to be a fighter years later. After time you and shadow met and became close and fell in love. For years you kept the secret you were an experiment from the ark much less, until shadow stumbles across the project file and confronts you about it part angry and ort sad you didn't tell him. Perhaps the reader runs off upset and feeling terrible after, and shadow in time finds them and you both talk it out under the stars-

Sorry this idea sounded good in my head lol.

“A Reasonable Secret”

Pairing: Shadow the Hedgehog x Project Reader

Requested: Yes (by an anon).

Description: You never wanted Shadow to know your past. That you were nothing more than a scrapped prototype. But life is not always fair.

Notes: Ough I love fics like these…I’m gonna make Reader not have Black Arms blood though, because it’d probably complicate things. Hope you enjoy regardless!

(Reader will be gender-neutral.)

(Not proof-read/beta-read.)

– – – – – – – – – – – –

You always knew you weren’t normal.

It wasn’t exactly common knowledge that you were a failed prototype of Project Shadow.

You couldn’t even fight back then.

Not until G.U.N. found you three years ago.

They unfroze you and took you in, treating you better than the scientists on the A.R.K. ever did.

Which is how you met your partner, Shadow the Hedgehog.

You meant to tell him that you, too, were a project, just like him, but…

He found out before you could tell him.

While you were doing paperwork, someone slams something down on your desk, causing you to jolt.

You look up to who did it, only to see Shadow glaring at you.

“Why didn’t you tell me,” he spats.

Confused, you look at what he slammed on the desk, and your pupils immediately dilate to a small size.

It’s your project documents.

“I-” you start. “Shadow, I meant to tell you, I promise, I just-”

“Save it,” he says. “I…I need some time to process. Don’t go looking for me.”

Shadow teleports away and tears start to fall from your face.

Stupid.

Stupid.

STUPID.

That should’ve been the first thing you told him when you got together.

“(He probably hates me now,)” you think to yourself.

You finish up the paperwork and excuse yourself for the rest of the day, locking yourself in your room.

You feel horrible.

…

Maybe those scientists were right about you.

You never deserved to see the world.

You were useless. Worthless.

You deserved to-

…

A knock on your door cuts you out of your thoughts.

As soon as you open the door, you’re engulfed in a tight hug from your partner.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters. “I shouldn’t of snapped at you like that. You didn’t deserve it.”

You return the hug, snuggling your head in the crook of his neck.

“It’s okay,” you mutter. “I should have told you sooner.”

Shadow removes himself from the hug and gives you a kiss on the nose.

“What I did still wasn’t right,” he says. “Is there a way I can make it up to you?”

“Just you being here is enough for me, Shadow,” you tell him. "But it would be nice to see the stars with you."

Shadow takes out his Chaos Emerald from his quills and mutters "Chaos Control," the two of you being brought outside.

You lay down on the ground first, Shadow following suit, with you holding his hand as the two of you look at the stars.

You couldn’t be happier with him.

[lerootude]

I live by the phrase “fuck around and find out” but like…less in a threatening way, more in a, “let’s fuck around and see what happens.” It’s science if you write it down, the magic of “hold my beer,” all those types of phrases associated with thr sense of adventure and new knowledge.

That sense- it’s led me to some really cool things. I moved 1000 miles away, on a whim, at 19, because the apprenticeship program I was in had closed down, and there was an opening across the country. I had no family or friends out there. I’d never met the trainer before. I’d never stepped foot in that state. I had no support from the family I did have. But I did it, because, well, other people had and surely it couldn’t be that hard?

Ha! It was hard. It was painful. Things went directly to hell posthaste in my personal life, I wasn’t being paid, and I had no support outside a few close friends I made during apprenticeship. I wanted to quit; but I couldn’t afford to get back home, so I stayed. It sucked. I also would not ever trade that experience for anything.

4 years later, I now call that state home. I’ve changed careers, made more friends, found a new community, started a new business, and did it all with lot of grieving and upheaval. I’m happy now, but it took A LOT of strife.

So yeah, bigger idiots than you have done it, and they’ve done it worse than you could. If you come across this reblog somehow, I want you to know one thing: I believe in you, and your ability to do the thing you thought was impossible. Bigger idiots have tried and already succeeded. You can do better. And if you don’t, then you learn and try again.

Well put. (Source: Writing About Writing Facebook page)

[moonlight-alexia]

the questioning hour | steph, tiny & kyra

steph catley x catley!reader x kyra cooney-cross | if you want more for any of my universe pairings etc then keep requesting questions to ask them <3 hope you like it <3

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

What's your biggest fear of the relationship?

Steph: the two pests being together? Is that not concerning for anyone else?

Tiny: aw stephy loves us 

Steph: I never said that

Kyra: we know the truth stephy

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

Who is more affectionate?

Tiny: Kyra easily 

Steph: You don’t even need eyes to see that Kyra is so clingy, needy, affectionate

Kyra: hey!

Tiny: it’s not a bad thing. I like my cuddly, clingy ky

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

Most likely to get lost?

Steph: kyra and tiny obviously

Tiny: um steph

Kyra: psa don’t let steph direct if you actually want to get somewhere. She might seem like she has it all together but she can’t direct to save her life

Tiny: when we were in aus she had us drive 2 hours the wrong way before realising. Thought we were gonna have to sleep in the car 

Kyra: almost stranded in the middle of nowhere because of steph. Almost didn’t make it back here aliveeee

Steph: you’re so dramatic

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

Most likely to get arrested?

Steph: welllll…

Tiny: shut it steph

Kyra: we technically weren’t arrested…

Tiny: just a warning 

Steph: I still had to come get you both

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

[Kyra to Steph] What's the most challenging part of our relationship for you?

Steph: realising my little baby sister isn’t so little anymore she’ll always be that tiny five year old who used to throw the football at me and storm inside because i ‘won’ too many times

Steph: no but honestly? You’re both young, new to serious relationships and I didn’t want to see you hurt each other. Care about you both a lot, but you make each other happy so I can’t complain

Tiny: Ky! Steph admitting to caring about us and not hating our relationship?

Kyra: this is on camera right? Need to keep evidence that this happened

Steph: you see what I have to deal with

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

[Steph to Tiny] What do you secretly wish I understood better about you?

Kyra: oh getting deep here

Steph: shut up Kyra

Tiny: well, maybe that I’m more than just your little sister. Like being seen as my own person. I love having your guidance and all but I want to make the same silly mistakes you did, learn from doing things and not just because you did it. Let me make mistakes but still be there to catch me when I fall

Steph: I’m so proud of who you’re becoming and I will do better for you. You’re my sister and I will always be there to catch you and hold you when you need it

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

[Steph to Tiny] What's something that you need from me that you're afraid to ask for?

Tiny: well I was afraid to ask you to not hate Kyra after you found out

Steph: I didn’t hate Kyra

Tiny: eh, could’ve fooled me

Steph: maybe I overreacted a little

Tiny: a little? understatement of the year

Kyra: she doesn't hate me now so that's a...win...yes?

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

[Tiny to Steph] What's your first memory of me?

Steph: you were like the size of a peanut-

Kyra: so nothing has changed then

Tiny: hey! I’m like several peanuts tall now!

Steph: -you were small and kind of weird looking

Tiny: but…

Steph: no, that’s it. Small and weird looking

[isagispuzzle]

HEYYYY CONGRATS ON 200 FOLLOWERS!!!! I was wondering about if you could make an " accidentally falling asleep on his shoulder" like in the subway, the bus... Idk. I don't think I need to say this since I always tell you, but I LOOOVEREE your fics sm😭 fav tumblr writer they are always adorable

SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT and thank you so much for all the support you've given!! i love to read the replies you leave on my posts, i hope you enjoy reading this one too!

despite his soft, flowy hair and his gentle features, chigiri is nothing but steel-hearted and feisty. he gets impatient easily, and doesn't let it slide when others cross his boundaries. he's the type to tell the waiter when they get his order wrong—nicely, of course, and he's the type to stand up against the childish boys who picked on you when you were younger.

which is exactly why he became your best friend, the one you turn your brain off around because you trust him with your life. while others may find such reliance burdensome or tiring, chigiri loves it. with you around, he feels important, and when others see how you're able to depend on chigiri, they stop treating him like a delicate princess.

it's pretty funny, because what they see isn't even all of it. they see chigiri carrying your bags, tying your shoelaces, and picking up snacks for you, but they don't see your contact at the top of his favourites, the released tension in your shoulders when you hold his hand in a crowded place, or the note full of all your favourite things in his phone. they don't see that behind your immense trust in chigiri is his unwavering trust that no one else out there can treat you as well as he does.

so when you fall asleep against chigiri's back while he's cycling you home from his place, he secures your arms around his waist and slows down. he feels your warmth seep through his thin t shirt, made worse by the warm summer air, and he revels in it. even after years of having you by his side, these reminders of your unbreakable bond and little touches still send his heart racing. he's so thankful that you're fast asleep, because god forbid you hear how loudly his heart was pounding in his chest.

chigiri teases you for falling asleep even on a moving bike when you wake up right outside your door. you laugh it off and thank him for sending you home, and it's only when you glance at the clock in your room that you realise over an hour has passed since you left chigiri's house, even though it's just a fifteen minute journey.

[muletia]

Hi! Anon who started watching transformers stuff last Sunday! It’s been a week and this hyperfixation has never left my brain! It’s the brainrot! It’s set it for me.

This gentle autobot has singlehanded raised my standards in men I’m debating on breaking up with my bf.

Your writing has been a god send. It’s amazing.

Also, picture this. Just you holding Optimus’ face, using your thumbs to wipe his tears. Shush him and tell him everything will be alright.

That is all.

hello!

Hyperfixation on Transformers is so fascinating because when you get bored of one iteration of a character or lore, you just hop to the next one and fall in love all over again. It’s a never-ending content farm, and I absolutely love this series for that.

LMAOOO NOT THE BREAKING UP PART 😔 but you are so real for that. Optimus is the golden standard when it comes to dating — sorry, real-life men, but I’m choosing the transforming truck <3

Maybe I am a freak when it comes to Optimus, but it all comes from the need to comfort that sad, old Autobot. Hhh, I just want to reassure him that everything is okay, that he’s safe, and that he can let go of all his sorrows and burdens. To hold him close to my chest so he feels loved, to whisper sweet words and praises to help rebuild the broken wreck he’s become after all those years of war. To kiss his forehead as gently and tenderly as possible and let him cry it all out. To wipe away his tears with my thumbs, and if that’s not enough, to let him bury his face in the crook of my neck where he can cry to his heart’s content. To stroke his helm softly, constantly reassuring him that everything will be alright.

Optimus so badly needs someone he can open up to without fear of judgment, without being afraid to show his truest emotions. Ughhh, I volunteer as tribute.

[hollowedskin]

This sort of thing directly caused me to owe a bridge toll company over 35k in late fines and administration fees because they made it so monumentally difficult to pay them.

I crossed the bridge twice a day to get to and back from work. They had a 3 day invoicing system, after which the toll was considered late, but you would only find out when they billed for it at the end of the month. Multiple times I attempted to pay late tolls only to be told that the number and value of what I owed was innaccessable, and to wait to receive the letter.

Each late fee, and later fine, was sent individually. By letter. Meaning I would receive dozens of letters at the end of the month, all dated from when they were sent (the same day) and not from when the toll was incurred. If I didn't pay them within 28 days, further fines would be added. Again being sent in another, separate letter.

This also meant that each fine had to be paid individually. I could not put money into the tolling account after they were considered late. I had to pay each individual and identical letter separalty on my banking website. This meant individually entering each unique 16 digit payment number into my bank transfer, up to 30 times a month. Every month.

Because no matter how hard I tried, the 3 day turnaround always fucked me over. I'd get paid weekly, my account would get overdrawn because I was being paid basically nothing, the payments to the tolling company would fail, and I'd incur a late fee before I got paid again. That would then send the late toll into the inaccessible hole and I wouldn't find out how much money I owed until they sent out the bulk late fees letters.

each late fee for each individual toll not paid in 3 days was $25. If that wasn't paid in 28 days, (which happened frequently if I had missed one from my pile or entered it incorrectly, didn't receive the letter or didn't have the money to pay all the late fees at once) the fine would go to $250.

The late fees went to court, which I couldn't attend because I was working and couldn't afford to take the time off because I had no money, and it took me years to pay off. All the while i was still having to cross the bridge and have a new set of fees and fines accrue for exactly the same reason.

Eventually I started a relationship with my partner who took over the whole thing, made the money come out of HIS account instead of mine, and bullied the company into letting me pay just what I owed in tolls without the fines. But because the previous debt was court ordered there was nothing we could do about that.

I was so exhausted from work, undiagnosed mental health issues, from the stress of constantly oweing an unknown amount of money, and trying over and over and over to contact them (I think I would have spent over 50h on hold with their company all up) that I couldn't do anything but try and play catch up with their fines.

During this time I had a complete mental breakdown, ended up having to quit work and spend a lot of time in a psychiatric hospital where I eventually got diagnosed with cptsd, and later autism and OCD (these things were not caused by the toll thing, it was stuff id lived with my whole life)

Having these unmedicated and untreated disorders meant that what may have been manageable to a neurotypical person, ended up with life destroying debt for me, and an impossible trap of continuous debt because my lack of executive function meant I could never get ahead of it all enough to stop it. All it took was one lapse, one forgetting to top up the toll account, and the whole cycle began again.

I think this is just a trend everywhere but I've been very frustrated this week by how much admin work is being outsourced to me as the patient/customer.

My orthodontist tells me I can make an appointment with the surgeon. I call the surgeon. They tell me I need a new referral. I call the orthodontist. They do a referral. I call the surgeon. Referral didn't come through. They tell me about their special unique system we have to use. I call the ortho again and walk them through the referral. I call the surgeon. They say the referral was missing some details so they have to do it again. I call the ortho.

The insurance company calls me about repair shops. I give them the name of the repair shop which I already gave them yesterday. They say they're not in their system but I can use them, but I have to call the repair shop to ask them to contact the insurance company. I call the repair shop and they say the insurance company is supposed to email them.

I feel like at a certain point these constant fetch quests become unreasonable?? Is it too much to expect these groups to communicate with each other instead of making me run back and forth between them???

[gotta-winwin]

(🐍) ... minghao x reader

⭐ starring: minghao

💌 genre/wc: angst, light fluff / 1.2k

💬 preview: you stumble across old records from a damaged diary that seems to hold the conversations between a student and a boy living within the pages.

tw/cw: slytherin!minghao x hufflepuff!reader, diary format, spoliers for the chamber of secrets, needs previous knowledge of hp lore, abstract death, tom riddle appearance

🪽fic rating: pg

☁️ masterlist & a/n: this has been sitting in my drafts for weeks and i'm putting it out in hopes of giving myself some time to work on other stuff hehe. this one's a bit experimental with the format but hope you all enjoy!

p.s thank you so much to @ylangelegy and @diamonddaze01 for beta reading !

hello. fifth year slytherin, here. i found this journal lying in one of the professor’s cupboards - long abandoned, it seems. it looks to contain the mad ramblings of two people, conversing through the pages. i cannot seem to figure out who this once belonged to, pages have been torn out and blurred by water - so i’m writing in hopes another student might. 

read it, and let me know if anything comes to mind. 

if i have to sit through another class with professor bins, i will avada myself. 

finally, something worth replying to. your class notes are utterly boring. 

WHAT THE FUCK THE BOOK SPEAKS

…yes, i speak. 

go away. you’re speaking over my class notes. 

they weren’t good notes anyways. barely competent. abysmally below average. 

i cannot believe i’m being insulted by a book right now.

i cannot believe my pristine pages are being vandalized by an incompetent student, yet here we are. 

mr. book, 

what. 

shut up.

mr. book,

what is it now, incompetent student? 

can you write my notes for me. pls pls pls i will owe you for life.

that is a very dangerous game to play. 

my hand hurts. and you keep saying you’re so smart. write my notes for me.

what house are you in?

hufflepuff. why? 

no. i will not write your notes for you. 

bro. 

what is a bro ?? 

you know what, never mind. i’ll write them myself. i hope the ink drowns you. 

incompetent student  hufflepuff girl y/n?? respond to me now. 

yes, book?

MY NAME IS NOT BOOK 

you refused to tell me your name so i’m sticking with book. mr. book. 

can you go to the dungeon bathroom and check one of the faucets for me. 

uh. why? 

because i said so. 

i’m going to waterboard your pages.

you’re quite snappy for a hufflepuff. just go check. 

say please.

no. 

i’m holding a cup of water above you right now.  hello? mr. book?

please. check the faucets. 

see? wasn’t so difficult. i’ll go now.

minghao. 

what? 

my name. stop calling me mr. book

MINGHAOOO

what. 

i’m bored. 

silly girl. and what am i supposed to do about that?

tell me about yourself. when were you at hogwarts? 

a long time ago. 

psh. of course i know that. 

professor bins was still alive when he taught me. just as boring, trust me. 

ooo what else? who were your friends? anyone famous? 

i wouldn’t know. i never graduated. 

what? 

the faucet. did you check? 

i did. there’s like a snake or something, but it didn’t do anything. 

oh. y/n? 

yeah? 

don’t go to that bathroom anymore. 

why?

just don’t. 

hao. people are saying there’s a snake in the walls. 

what do you mean?

there was blood on the walls too. talking about the chamber of secrets. 

fuck. 

minghao? do you know something? 

don’t go anywhere alone. promise me. stay with your friends. 

i’m scared

you should be.

stop that. 

what? hao? 

grown fond of your little friend, xu minghao? 

tom. stop.  i’m sorry, my heart. ignore him. 

who? hao, what is going on?

has he neglected to tell you? he isn’t the only inhabitant of this journal. and turns out, he isn’t strong enough to silence me.  keep hiding, y/n. i’ll find you soon enough. 

hao? 

i’m sorry.

i think i’m starting to go a bit crazy. 

is everything alright? are you safe? 

i’m fine, hao. you worry too much. 

i must admit that i’ve grown fond of you. 

even if i’m a hufflepuff? 

you’re the most tolerable hufflepuff i know. 

:)  is the uh. tom guy still with us?

my magic suppresses him in short periods of time. we’re alone at the moment. 

i still don’t understand. both of you are…inside the book. 

tom was here first. the journal was given to me my fifth year, and i spoke to him - much like you right now. from what i’ve gathered, this journal holds a piece of his soul. and a piece of mine as well. 

how? why? 

[redacted] [redacted] 

you are beginning to care for the girl.

i admit she has grown on me.

no. you’ve grown to love her. our souls are intertwined whether you enjoy it or not. do not pretend i cannot feel your emotions. 

have mercy.  spare her. 

are you finally regretting your choice, xu minghao?  you once promised me a life in exchange for your life and access to your soulmate. so i spared you, and stored you here with me.

please. 

this is what greed gets you, my dear friend.  you promised me a life. and i choose hers.

please. 

finally. you learn to beg. 

she is innocent. 

she is your soulmate. the strongest magic our world has. and for that, she is valuable. 

my heart. 

hao? 

i need you to destroy this journal. now.  

what? why? 

tom must be stopped. i will not let him harm you. destroying the journal will destroy his soul too.

but you’re in the journal too.

yes. a small price to pay for your life. 

i won’t do it. 

you must.

no. i’m not killing you.

i’ve been dead for a long time, my heart. 

i won’t. you cannot make me. 

you’re wetting the pages with your tears. stop crying. 

hao…

do it. just because the journal is gone doesn’t mean i won’t be with you. every step of the way. 

how cute. 

note: 

> xu minghao: previous slytherin student, renowned potion student. his name is on one of the potion award plaques in the great hall. he died during the second opening of the chamber of secrets, an underground location rumoured to house the slytherin basilisk. 

> y/n: referred to as ‘my heart,’ there is no real indication of who she is. while there is a professor portrait in the headmaster’s office who shares the same name, i cannot be certain they are the same person. 

> tom: he can only be assumed as he-who-shall-not-be-named, a dark wizard who was killed by the-boy-who-lived years ago. 

note: 

> the pages are burnt at the edges, erasing most of the conversation that would allow this to make more sense. it is clear to me that someone destroyed this. 

note: 

> i found something when searching the bathroom mentioned in the first couple entries. i will clip it here. 

is he gone?

for now. i cannot contain him for much longer. you must hurry.

you cannot expect me to do this.

from the short time i’ve come to know you, i know that despite being a hufflepuff, you hold the courage of a gryffindor, the brains of ravenclaw, the wit of a slytherin.  do not be afraid. 

are you not afraid? this could kill you.

i have to admit a part of me still fears death after all this time.  but this is my price to pay. i love you, even in the short time we had. 

i love you. even if this version of you is only a figment of what you were. 

note: 

> a point i must bring up: minghao refers to y/n as ‘my heart.’ at first i thought it was just a term of endearment, but upon further research:  Soulmates are rare in the wizarding world, although not at all impossible. Soulmates share more than their magic, they share their hearts. One cannot die if the other is still alive -- making soulmates the most powerful form of magic to exist. It may be the only way to cheat death without the use of a horcrux.

[kumezyzo]

masterlist

Images began spreading unlike anything the media had ever really expected. They were all of you and Luigi. Well, really, how could anyone be angry about it? You were both beautiful. Something about the way you looked together was… unlike anyone had seen before

Although, the reason why these pictures were circulating so freely now was… not as wonderful. Luigi had finally been arrested.

There were reporters waiting outside your home now, hoping to catch a glimpse of you, a statement even. They were shameless, really. And the public wasn’t any better, really. Or more so… your coworkers.

You called off of work, even though you weren’t sure if your bank account would appreciate the act of self-preservation. The news had caught wind of your chat with the detectives.

People began to see you as a saint. Others saw you as a liar, even more believed you to be pitiful. You sounded small, desperate even. But they knew for a fact that someone who managed to get a ring from Luigi Mangione would protect him to the ends of the earth.

Regardless of what others believed for you, it was as if your life had truly, finally, fallen apart. You cried upon hearing the news. You didn’t cry because you hadn’t wanted him to get caught. No, you cried because you knew that regardless of the outcome of the court trial, your lives wouldn’t be the same.

That was clear to you because a clip of yours surfaced. It wasn’t yours so to speak, it was one that his sister filmed and you posted to your social medias. The day he proposed.

“Lu, where are we going!” You shouted, giggles falling from your lips as he pulled you ahead of his family. It seemed like he had a sudden surge of energy, grabbing you by your hand as you guys arrived at the park. It was the park he asked your out. It was his sisters idea to take a walk after family dinner.

He suddenly stopped, sending you crashing into him. He laughed as he held you up, steadying your footing. Despite your confusion, you couldn’t help but smile with him. He pressed his lips tenderly against yours. You smiled, hiding your face from his family, who was slowly catching up to you.

“What are you-” You began asking, watching him slowly get down on one knee. You swore you could feel your heart skip too many beats to be medically normal. “Oh, my god.”

Your hands shot up to your mouth as he smiled, opening up the small black box in his hand. Your heart was now beginning to beat out of your chest. Tears began filling your eyes, his only mirroring yours as he opened his mouth to speak.

He spoke your name like it was meant to be said by his lips only, “You are the love of my life. I couldn’t imagine spending the last four years with anyone else. I mean, you’ve been with me through so much and never once complained,” His voice and hands shook as he spoke. Even when he seemed so unsure of his words, his eyes told you everything. He already knew your answer. “I know you’re too good for me, but I can’t possibly imagine spending the rest of my life with anyone else. So… will you marry me?”

You let out a sob, unable to muster up any words. You could only nod, letting him shakily slip the ring onto your finger. His family began cheering at the sight. He smiled as a tear fell past his cheek. He stood up, engulfing you in a hug. The sheer strength in his hold told you that he more than loved you. It felt like you could live in eachothers skin. He spun you around, happiness and excitement gushing from both of you. 

You let out a watery giggle, “I love you.”

“I love you more,” He said, holding your face in hands before kissing you deeply. You both melted into the kiss, salty tears mingling between your lips.

You still remember that day like yesterday. Watching it from another perspective was just as emotional. Or maybe it was because that time felt like another lifetime. Or maybe because it was being used in edits with the song "Young and Beautiful" by Lana Del Rey.

I've had this in my drafts for a while. but it felt appropriate to continue it now for some reason. 🤷🏽‍♀️ -nony

[putschki1969]

Hi Puts! YK just announced that Keiko will be not participated in YK Live #21 this year 😢 I'm kinda sad about this.

Okay, I didn't expect to have to use this gif so soon...

All jokes aside, this announcement is indeed very saddening and disappointing but I would be lying if I said I was super surprised.

Just a few days ago I addressed some possibilities for the future in THIS POST here and I was trying my best to remain optimistic despite knowing very well that Yuki had pretty much cemented her stance on the whole thing by releasing that initial statement. The way she positioned herself as the victim and everyone else as perpetrator was a clear message. By explicitly name-calling the members, it was made to look like Hikaru and Keiko were “aligning themselves with the enemy”. The Asia Tour probably couldn't be cancelled or re-arranged due to existing agreements/contracts but we didn't know how the Kalafina debacle would affect anything after that. Seems like we have our answer now. The girls have all officially fallen out of favour and are being considered as “Space Craft adjacent”. They are now in the same position as Wakana, nothing more than pariahs. Which means of course that everyone is now following the usual M.O. of ignoring each other’s presence. I'm not saying this is all coming from Yuki's side, there's a very high chance of the girls themselves being restricted in their activities due to contractual obligations (Space Craft most definitely made them sign something to make that Kalafina Live possible).

As discussed previously, we got our first glimpses of the shunning process when Yuki decided to distance herself on social media by unfollowing Hikaru and Keiko.

Then just a few days ago, a photo was posted from the recording studio and a certain someone was notably absent.

I guess Keiko's exclusion from the YKL is just a natural progression although I will honestly say that I didn't think Yuki would go that far, jeopardising the quality of her performances like that. Considering that her craft has always been her main priority, letting go of the literal backbone of 90% of her live music seems like a very stupid decision but I guess pettiness knows no boundaries in this ever-lasting feud between Team Yuki and Team Space Craft.

Oh well, needless to say, I won't be attending YK events any time soon. I don't hate her and I still appreciate her work but there's no longer any incentive for me personally. The girls have always come first and nothing will ever change about that. I am not Team YK or Team Space Craft, I am Team Kalafina and always will be! This just means I will have to support their solo activities even more and hopefully they will all increase their activities to give me lots of opportunities to show my appreciation.

As I mentioned in my post from a few days ago, nothing in life happens without a price having to be paid. Sacrifices need to be made, time has to pass. I am sure the girls were aware of most of these consequences when they decided to commit themselves to the Kalafina Anniversary Live project. Just like all these years ago, Wakana was aware what would happen if she stayed with Space Craft. The Japanese entertainment industry is not for the weak, shitty things happen all the time, you win some, you lose some. Hikaru actually shared some very good advice during her live broadcast from the other day. Life has a way of balancing itself out, for every bad thing that happens, a good thing will follow. And every rough experience might one day turn into an opportunity so I guess we can try to look at the whole thing with a more positive mindset. We don't know if this is permanent or not and we also have no idea what's in store for Kalafina so I refuse to despair because of it.

Speaking of Hikaru, she also mentioned that throughout her career, the main priority have always been the fans. I think this sentiment is shared by Keiko and Wakana which is why they ultimately decided to hold the Kalafina live, knowing very well that they'd have to pay dearly for their decision.

Of course they didn't think there would be such a harsh backlash in the initial phase but that was mostly fueled by Yuk's unfortunate phrasing in the statement. If she had refrained from mentioning the members, I don't think that there would have been such an outrage and immediate condemnation of the girls. Fans would have been upset but most of them would have simply blamed Space Craft and not the girls themselves.

Nonetheless, all that bitching and moaning from "some" fans didn't stop thousands of people from getting their ticket and showing up for the live. As far as I am concerned, the concert was a huge success and everyone there was filled with happiness. The girls must have surely interpreted it like this as well so hopefully, they felt like it was worth their sacrifice.

[247-diaperboy]

Lee County Jail Part 2

Lee County Jail had a new program just for people ranging from 18-25 years of age. It was perfect for the Alpha Betas who were caught drinking underage. The first thing was to get processed. Meaning that all four boys were going to get diapered and given a blankee and a pair pajamas.  None of the boys looked forward what would happen next according to the rumors. Since they were men they would get Daddies who would act as their probation officers, and only they could decide when you were a “big boy” again. For the next 30 days the boys would only get special formulas in adult sized baby bottles, only able to sleep in a crib, play on an adult-sized playground or playpen, and sleep in a crib with a pacifier in their mouths. 

However, before a daddy was assigned to the boy's each one of them would be brought to the procedure room for a physical as well as the insertion of a stent.

Once the stent is in place all control is removed. Every boy signs a paper when processed giving consent to the procedure.

None of the boy's knew what was happing to them. seance each one was giving a mild sedative. Once everything was done, they would wake up in a crib in thick diapers.

Keith awoke as a doctor asked him how he was feeling? All Keith could say is.

I don't understand what is happening to me, I can’t control my urine just one day in this institution. No drugs and no injection That I could remember. I could feel pain bladder spasms as my muscles try to function.

Another doctor came around to check my diaper it was soaked. I didn't feel myself pee or anything. I ask why I couldn't control my urine and about the muscle spasms. he laughed and explained to me that he has a wire mesh stent inserted into the neck of my bladder.

Basic it works like catheter holding the sphincter muscles open, on plus you can't access or remove with a special piece of equipment.

If you like to act like an immature brat will make you one. You better straighten up because longer the stent is in the more tissue grow around it.

One week should be fine or two weeks will be able to remove it with on problems three weeks require a little work. However, one month you have no hope of a normal life. You better start kissing ass or you will be dependent on diapers for life.

Total shock took over. My sentence to this program was for 12 months. Would this thing be left it the entire time; will I ever be able to pee normal again or will I end up diaper dependent for life and regressed to being a total baby with no control over what happens?