#speaking words of wisdom let it be

[haleyatwell]

PARKER POSEY as VICTORIA RATLIFF THE WHITE LOTUS (2021–) 3.06 Denials

[sanddollarpoems]

Just Let it Be

You can not convince anyone.

Even with hands full of facts,

there's always a rebuttal,

whether evidence based or not.

The world is reduced

to arguments of beliefs,

conviction over data,

stories woven to mislead or distract.

So just let it be.

The preachers of old,

with their spiritual revivals,

would be appalled and amazed

by today's viral "news."

But people from all times

will believe what they want,

and align with the words

that make sense to them.

So just let it be.

It will be what it is,

and no amount of information

will sway their thoughts now.

[teekays]

[youjustwaitsunshine]

i love that sebs first instinct upon having free time on his hands is 'hey can i try checking out this job' and it's a profession that's both essential to society and beloved by kids, he's done farming, he's done teaching, he's done waste disposal, he's done medicine and those are just the ones we know about. anyways can he please do marine biology next

[doomingthenarrative]

maybe i will write bg3 time loop fic

[dinosaurwithablog]

Word...

Enemy (2013) dir. Denis Villeneuve

[lorenzlund]

Auch Kinderrucksaecke stellten sich als hohe Gefahr fuer diese heraus, fand ich heraus, weil die Ortung nie eine bessere meist ist, die anderen gelingt, als fuehrten wir gerade sie mit uns! (Sie gehoeren deswegen sehr sorgfaeltig ausgesucht!). Im folgenden bringen ich Beispiele, wo das so offensichtlich nicht immer gelang, auch bei fuer Aeltere bestimmten Modellen! Mit mir hat man es schon oefter versucht!

der 'S - treat. dt: die erfolgreiche Behandlung von ettwas.. ass, the : Hintern, Hinterteil. 'Qualen empfinden, sie haben, auch in den eigenen Eiern'. Wegen Taten, die wir begangen haben sollen. 'Unser heutiges Qualitaetsversprechen'. Deeds/Taten dt.

das Samuraischwert.

Suche nach zuvor hier von mir anderen versprochenen Fotodateien durch mich abfotografierter Ruecksaecke verlief bislang fuer mich noch ergebnislos. Vertagung auf spaeter. (Ich raetsele selber.)

Tueren wieder sehr viel oefter und mehr herunterkuehlen in Zukunft, allesamt, auch die eigenen! - Vor allem hintere!! kuehl-tuer(e) frz. culture.

the boy / engl.

[magicdustsworld]

Zayne has standards.

He really does.

And those standards include not thirsting after his very beautiful wife every time she has the audacity to exist in a damn sundress.

But here he is.

You are sprawled out on the couch, using a cushion as a recliner while you scroll through your phone with a practiced ease that should have been illegal. You are wearing that sundress again—the same one he bought you and the same one that made him lose his mind the first time you walked out of your bedroom wearing that. The soft yellow clings to your bust and torso, before flaring from the waist down. A slit runs down from your knee to the hem—giving him a tantalizing view of your legs as you cross them over one another. The neckline dips low; although keeping your modesty concealed, the sweetheart shape leaves no stone unturned—promising the allure behind the veil.

There you are resting on the sofa like some celestial being descended from heaven; taking away his breath and self control—fighting and failing hard to resist the temptation.

And the worst part of it all? You aren't even trying to seduce him.

You are just there.

Radiant.

Effortless.

Dangerous.

As ever.

Zayne leans on the doorway, arms folded over hios chest and jaw set in a thin line as if that would the heat from crawling up his neck.

As if sensing his gaze, you speak without making the effort to look up, "Anything wrong?"

"It's too cold for you to be wearing something like... that.

"Huh?" Finally, you grace him the look he was so desperately begging for. (Not that you'll ever know about it). You make some clicks on your phone before turning the device towards him, "See! It's 70 degrees. It's warm enough."

In response, your husband just glares at the screen like it has personally offended him. It has. Then, he mumbles something incoherent under his breath; along the lines of 'You have a knack for getting knocked out cold' and 'How much it'd help him you if you only sprout some wisdom and put on a cardigan.'

He rotates on his heels, strolling towards the kitchen—at this point only some chilled water would help him—and hoping you haven't caught onto his monologue. But you did. You always do and when you finally register his words in your mind, a slow grin curls down your lips.

So that is it, huh?

No sooner has Zayne reached the refrigerator, he feels the warmth of your figure behind him. He fixes you with a questioning gaze, one of his eyebrows raising, as he fishes out a bottle of water from it.

Leaning against the counter, your perpetual smirk depends and that's the cue for your husband to know that you are upto no good.

"You okay, darling?" You ask, voice low and turning towards a teasing edge. Stepping closer, you place your hand on his forearm—the muscles tensing almost instantly under your touch. Perfect. "You look a little... warm."

Zayne clears his throat, "I am fine."

"Mhm, hmm, you sure?" you ask, leaning in—absolutely revelling on the effect you are having on him.

"Of course," he swallows, stepping back but you only step closer; not letting him or anyone shorten the proximity. You wouldn’t even let it happen, no matter what occurs. "Why would you even think otherwise?"

"Heh!" You snort, amusement floating in the sound. "Because what if I say you keep looking at me like I am dessert and you are starving?"

"Then I'll say you're delusional."

"Oh?" This time, you raise an eyebrow. Then, wedging your voice to a tone lower—transcending it to something sultry and wicked. "Then you wouldn’t be affected if I kiss you right now?"

His shoulder jerks back, eyes widening as a warmth spreads all over his cheek and burns down to his neck. "You wouldn’t dare—"

But you do.

You kiss him.

Standing on your tip-toes, your eyelids flutter shut as your soft lips pressed against his chapped one. The slow motion of the movement gave him all the time in the world to memorize each nook and cranny of your expression before you engulfed him into a sincere affection. Sacred in the act. Reverent in its nature.

After being happily married to the calm and composed Dr. Zayne—one of the best surgeons in the Akso hospital and the youngest winner of the starcather award—for two years; you'd wonder surprise kisses like this would be considered a routine now. And although they are, Zayne's reaction to them every time hasn't had a single itch of change. You still remember how he had reacted when you had kissed him unexpectedly for the first time. It had been under a snow cuddled christmas tree in the heart of Linkon city and as cliche as it was, it was the fruit of your hard earned resolve after yearning for him for literal years.

Even that time, his hands and feet had fallen victim to paralysis as well. Heart beating in his chest at a rapid rate and he stood there like a statue, barely moving his lips against yours—just like now. Only when did you begin to pull away, did he finally take the lead.

His hand wraps around your waist, pulling you close whilst the other cradles your jaw. Angling your face to the side, he parts his lips—pressing them on yours with a fervent hunger. His tongue prods over your lips and you open your mouth, welcoming him into the salacious exchange. The fabric of his shirt, bunches inside your fist prompting you to pull him closer. He relents, lips meeting with yours with sheer desire and affection. Despite the carnal nature of his mouth on yours, you couldn't deny the wafting purity in the air. The way Zayne handled you with so much affection and zeal—never rushing you, matching his tempo to yours because it isn't just him indulging in this wanton connection. There's you and Zayne is nothing but vigilant when it comes to you; as if you are a fragile thing and any stitch of recklessness would shatter you. Something he'd never let happen as long as he lives.

When he let's you go, both of you are breathless. Inhaling the mingling air in abrupt, short pants; a flush spread over your skin.

Then, "Still fine?" You whisper, gripping the fabric of his shirt tighter. The smug smile back with full force.

Zayne, still dazed and doomed, "You are... evil."

But even as he says that, his hold on your waist tightens just ever so slightly. Because, even if the end of the story concludes you as evil, he'll be gratified to know that you're his evil.

P.S. if y'all are wondering why does every Lnds drabble of mine consist husband!LI then it's because I'd husband them up in a breath if they were real ;-; jdhdjhdjhs hope you liked it

Zayne is my main btw <3 do tell me yours!

[choppedcowboydinosaur]

[reidrum]

exile

note: happy december i hope ur all doing well <3 a little something to hold u over until next friday when i start 12 days of reidrumas ok love u

summary: in which you and JJ are the ones held hostage in truth or dare

cw: spoilers for 14x15 truth or dare, hurt/comfort, angst, fem!reader, a heated makeout, reader wears a dress and heels, take a shot everytime reader tears up

wc: 3.6k

p.s. i am a glutton for praise if you couldn't tell from any of my fics but i love hearing what y'all think so plsplspls lemme know your thoughts in a comment or drop in my ask box!!!!

You’re not really sure where it went wrong.

When you joined JJ to pursue Casey, it was out of convenience. You both were simply closer to his last location. No one could’ve predicted he’d take you both hostage or make you play a twisted game of truth or dare at gunpoint.

No one could have predicted that Casey would force you and JJ to reveal details that hadn’t seen the light of day. He didn’t even care for those secrets, egging you both on to reveal something that would satisfy his masochistic itch. When he realizes that neither of you would break, he ups the ante by angling the gun to the middle of your head. JJ panics and speaks before she can even process what she said.

Because as you’re staring down the barrel of the gun clocked at your forehead, you realize the bullet isn’t inside the cylinder, it’s in JJ’s next words.

I’ve always loved Spencer.

You look at her mouth agape, blood draining from your face and tears springing to your eyes. She returns your gaze with one full of remorse and pity. To any onlooker, it would seem like a harmless confession. But they didn’t know the times you confided in JJ about your feelings for Spencer, the late nights at the office she’d stay with you giving advice and words of wisdom, when all JJ wanted was for her friend to be happy.

But now, how much of that can you believe to be true?

Casey seems to be satisfied with your reaction as he lowers his gun, with you reacting quickly grabbing your hidden second pistol and gunning him down. The only audible noise left is the heavy breathing of you both, the adrenaline rush starting to fade. JJ says your name remorsefully, but she’s interrupted by the rest of the team and police arriving to the scene.

The next thing you remember is sitting outside on the back of an ambulance rig, blankly staring out at your new reality. JJ loves Spencer.

You couldn’t compete, how could you? She was JJ. and you were, you. You had lost before you even began, you might as well toss the towel now.

It makes hugging Spence for what could be the last time—not to be dramatic—bittersweet. To know that this is an insignificantly normal moment he won’t remember, but one that you’ll play on repeat for the rest of your life.

Spencer holds you close into his chest with his arm smoothing out your back, “Thank god you’re okay, are you hurt?”

You scoff internally. Yes, but not in a way that can be fixed. In a way that you are not privy to yet, but once you are it will rip us to shreds.

“I’m fine, just a few scratches.”

He nods while examining you with his own mental checklist, “Okay, if your head starts hurting or your vision gets blurry you need to tell the EMT.” you nod as he adds on, “I’m gonna go check on JJ, you’ll be okay?”

No, no I won’t. There is no reality that exists where I can be okay anymore.

“I’m good. Go.”

He squeezes your shoulders and with another nod he walks over to where JJ rests on another ambulance rig, her arms instantly opening to welcome Spencer’s warm embrace. His back is facing you and JJ’s face rests over his shoulder, her eyes meeting yours in a look of sadness, grief. You look away before you can read more into it.

Wrapping the foil blanket around you tighter you let your head fall back and stare at the night sky, hoping there was a message out in the stars that would tell you what to do.

Your relationship with Spencer was, on the surface, nothing more than a friendship. He had joined the BAU only a year prior to you and when you came along it was clear from the first second that you two would be inseparable. Small talks in the bullpen quickly turned into mornings spent at the coffee shop, into weekly movie nights debating the superior science fiction franchise, to holding his hand when he needed a friend.

To Spencer, you were his anchor. Through all the trials and tribulations his life had dealt him, he knew he didn’t need to worry so much as long as you were around.

To you, Spencer was all consuming. He was threaded through every neuron and vessel in your body, intricately and impossibly tethered to you that it would take the work of the divine to painfully separate him from you.

Or, one Jennifer Jaraeu.

You don’t even realize tears are falling down your face until the EMT taps your shoulder and asks if anything has started to hurt again. Quickly shaking your head, you unravel yourself from the foil blanket and hand it back to her. You spare one last glance back at Spencer and JJ, eyes immediately zeroing on their joined hands, his thumb gently brushing the top of hers.

Your feet trudge you back to where the team is set up, one look to Emily and she’s already excusing herself from her conversation. She walks over to you phone up to her ear, saying something about you. You’re not really sure, it’s all water noise.

“Anderson will be here in about five minutes to take you home,”

You nod silently, not willing to make eye contact. Emily could sense your turmoil from a mile away, chalk it up to the Pisces moon in her but behind the hard exterior she put up there lay Emily, your empathetic friend who just wanted to hug your shattered pieces back together.

“You’ll be okay?” The second time you’ve been asked, your answer is still unchanged.

No. “Yeah.”

She sighs knowingly. The reason the two of you were such close friends was because of your similar ability to remain emotionally bottled up until it was too late, resulting in an outburst enough to take out armies and yourselves.

Anderson honks the car as he pulls up, alerting you of his arrival. Emily looks from the car back to you,  “I should go check on JJ.”

“Woman of the hour, it seems.” you chuckle under your breath.

Emily gives you that look, the conflicted ‘I’m sorry our friend made you feel this way, I still have to check on her.” look.

You brush her off, your casualness hopefully sending the message that the situation isn’t that deep. For her, you think.

The sound of the car unlocking rings through your ear as you hop in the passenger seat. Anderson tries to make small talk with you to no success, settling for the late night 00s radio station as he pulls up to your house, driving off as you bid him goodnight with a wave.

The breeze of your empty apartment greets you as you open the door, the air chillier than you’d expect for the season. You tug your shoes off harshly, placing your keys on the mail table next to the door. Your heart drops as you catch sight of a floral embossed card lying on top of your mail on the table.

Rossi’s wedding.

The one you were told to absolutely prioritize, the one in which JJ had helped you find a dress for, the one where you hoped you’d feel brave enough to tell Spencer how you truly felt.

You sigh deeply knowing you still had to show up and look presentable tomorrow despite being held hostage only 24 hours prior. But, maybe this is how you make a clean break. All this time you’ve been in love with Spencer and nothing has happened, despite all the signs you think you’re giving him. Maybe this is the opportunity to save Spencer from further tension, albeit unknown to him at this point, and let him finally be happy.

You knew about the Redskins game, how excited he was to go with JJ and yet it turned into something he hadn’t anticipated. You were new to the BAU at the time but your heart still ached for him, unable to understand how anyone would pass up on someone so special like Spencer Reid. It seems she’s finally come to her senses.

You take your dead phone out of your pocket to place it on the charger and you head into the bathroom to take a quick shower. The hot water loosens your tense muscles enough to prick tears in the back of your eyes, and you turn off the water before you can get too worked up. Once you’ve dried off you check on your phone on the bedside table seeing it’s turned back on, a flurry of missed texts and calls showing up.

11:14PM - Emily: Get home safe?

You heart the message and reply with a simple ‘Yes.’, scrolling to the next messages.

10:09PM - JJ:  Did you get home? 10:10PM - Missed Call from JJ 10:15PM - (2) Missed Calls from JJ 10:24PM - JJ:  I’m sorry, please let me explain. 10:25PM - Missed Call from JJ

You consider leaving her on read, not willing to entertain a conversation at this point, but you settle for an ‘It’s fine.’ for the sake of having communicated your safety.

10:13PM - Spence: Hey, where are you? 10:20PM - Spence: The EMT said you took off? Did you leave? 11:34PM - Spence: Emily just told me Anderson drove you back. You could’ve told me, I would have taken you home.

Your chuckle sadly at the text, Spencer hated driving but he would do it for you. It almost makes you think that your relationship could withstand the harsh weathering it’s been subjected to.

12:07AM - You: Sorry, phone died. I’m home now.

A response dings through a minute later.

12:08AM - Spence: I’ll go to the store tomorrow and get you a portable charger to keep in your bag. You should get some rest, I’ll see you tomorrow for the wedding right? Well, the wedding that’s today seeing as it’s past midnight. You know what I mean.

A single tear falls down your face at his rambling words. Oh, how you’d miss this once he learns what’s really happened.

12:10AM - You: I’ll be there. See you tomorrow, or today? You know what I mean. Good night.

12:11AM - Spence: Good night :)

—

You smooth out your dress before going up the steps, making eyes with Penelope at the top. You’re wearing a silk chiffon dress in purple, deliberately picked for Spencer’s favorite color, some strappy heels and some dainty jewelry painting you in as the picture of elegance.

“Hey hot stuff, look at you!” Penelope exclaims squeezing you tightly, “You look sooo pretty, doesn’t she look so pretty?” she gestures to the two men behind her you now acknowledge to be Luke and Spencer.

“Like a dream.” Luke agrees.

“Yeah,” Spencer clears his throat, “You look…beautiful.”

Penelope the Oracle of All Time quickly senses the 

atmosphere created and grabs Luke’s forearm, “Come on, you owe me that dance now!” She looks back and slyly gives you a thumbs up before dragging Luke further onto the dance floor.

Spencer slips into the vacated space to be right next to you, “How are you feeling?”

You know he’s asking about how you were held hostage at gunpoint, and not about how he’s about to become the loss of your life.

“ ‘M fine,” you swirl your champagne glass, “You?”

“Better now.”

A ghost of a smile creeps up on you, but you don’t let it travel further than that. He’s just being nice.

“Well, I’m just going to find the bathroom really quick.”

He holds a hand out for your glass, “Here, I’ll hold it.”

Your smile returns with bearings this time as you wander off in search of the bathroom. You’d feel embarrassed by how long it took you to find it but this place was massive, the Rossi money ran deep. Retracing your steps back to the main room you find Spencer and your glass not in the same place he was when you left. You scan the room looking for him and finally find him deep in conversation with—oh.

They’re too far for you to be able to hear them, but you can imagine that it’s the conversation. You watch JJ squeeze his forearm with affection and suddenly you can’t take it anymore. You couldn’t stand there and watch yourself become collateral in real time. Spencer turns at the sound of rustling up the spiral staircase followed by a door closing, catching the last glimpse of purple before it vanishes.

Spencer feels sick. He’s overwhelmed and overstimulated at the new information he’s learned about what really happened in the gas station. Then he comes to the realization of how walking in on him and JJ talking must have made you feel. His feet are carrying him up the stairs before he even realizes he’s made the choice. 

He finds you at the end of the hallway and calls out your name with a firmness you’d never heard from him. But you’ve cut all the strings of sanity by now, and you whip around and snap, “What?”

He doesn’t like that tone. “JJ told me what happened.”

You snort and don’t meet his eyes, “Oh, did she?”

His brows furrow, “Yes, she did.”

“And?”

“And what?”

And what? Is he serious? Did you have to spell it out for him? It borderlines sadist the way he’s putting you through the ringer.

“What happens now, Spencer?” you exasperate, “Is this the part where you tell me we can’t be friends anymore because she finally confessed?”

Confusion colors his face more, “Why wouldn’t we be friends?”

A halfway scream—groan leaves your throat in frustration. “Spencer, come on.”

“Honey, I don’t understand—“

“That! See, you can’t just say things like that knowing what has to happen, and expect me to react like a normal person.” you exclaim with hands flailing.

“I’m really confused—“

“Because I’m in love with you!” you cry, “Now do you see why?”

Time all but stills in the hallway you’ve found yourselves in. You don’t know how long you’ve been up here. It’s a little farther down from the stairways so there’s no threat of evesdroppers, but with how worked up you’re getting the proximity renders itself useless. The faint muffle of animated conversations and lively jazz music fills the silence between you and Spencer, who looks like…well, actually for once you can’t decipher what he’s feeling. 

He looks like he’s about to open his mouth when you both turn your head to the ascending footsteps—JJ looking for you, or Spencer probably, to come cut the cake. Spencer darts his eyes between the walls, a nervous tic you’d caught on to, before you realize he’s looking for a door and pulling you inside one. You yelp at the unexpected force and quickly quiet down again. The light switches on and based on the furniture you conclude that it’s a powder room, because of course Rossi’s venue has a powder room.

It’s a tiny room, big enough for a vanity table and a chaise lounge. Small enough to not have any room to leave without going past him. You stand an arm’s length away from him, the faint muffles of talk and music replaced by your sniffling. You shouldn’t have come, you start to realize. Having to say goodbye to him in person might actually rip you apart. Your chest weighs heavy with that familiar sad irony of mourning someone who hasn’t even told you they’re leaving yet. Preemptive measures that turned into routine practice. 

You sniffle, “Look, it doesn’t matter anymore, not that it ever did. I’m sorry I just sprung it on you like that, that was unfair. JJ…I thought JJ was my friend, I guess she is still but I’m not too sure now. But…she’s JJ and I’m just me and I know both of your pasts with each other so obviously it would be her. I’m making this too big a deal, I think. I just want you to be happy, in whatever capacity that looks like and I know it’s not with me so—“

Spencer stops your rambling by silently reaching out for your arm to pull you right in front of him, his hands reach to cup your face up to his, thumbs naturally swiping away the tears. He says your name like a coo, with a softness and delicacy you don’t feel you deserve right now. It hurts your heart entirely.

“Please don’t make this harder than it is.” you whisper through soft sobs.

You don’t know when it happens. Maybe in between scrunching your eyes or staring at your feet—but it happens. A cold pressure, then warmth, his lips are warm when he kisses you. A little surprising that he still tastes like Penelope’s sugary mocktail from earlier. A welcome pressure on your face as he holds you in place, as if you’d slip away further if he let go.

He stills in place, thinking he’s overstepped, until you finally remember that his lips are on your lips. You return the force back with as much as he gave you and let your arms loop around his neck, his own sliding from your face to take purchase on your hips.

That’s when Spencer starts kissing you. His hands grip your hips and tug you even closer as he deepens the kiss, plunging deeper back into the plush of your thighs to sit you on top of the vanity table. He slots himself between your legs, your hands wandering up to tug at the hairs on the nape of his neck. A soft groan leaves his throat and he detaches from your lips to amble down your neck, leaving a trail of lovebites in its wake.

This is wrong, like so wrong. You’re practically opening a salt box and pouring its entire contents on your wounds. But dammit, if this is the only time you’ll ever get to kiss Spencer, you’re sure as hell going to make the most out of the fleeting moment.

He mumbles something in between kisses to your neck, you instinctively ask him to say it again not expecting a response, and you immediately regret it as you feel his presence get lighter as he pulls away.

One more kiss to the spot behind your ear, he feels you preening below him and makes note of this—amongst everything else—for later, he pulls back to meet your eyes again.

“I love you.”

Your face drops, “That’s not funny.”

“I’m not being funny.”

Yes he is, he has to be. Because the universe in which Spencer Reid allows a piece of—the whole of it according to him, unbeknownst to you—his heart to be fully yours is not this one. You’ve never had luck like that.

“Then you’re lying to me, and that’s worse.” your voice cracks, Spencer feels the same crack imprinted on his heart.

“Sweetheart, I’m not lying. I love you.” He says it again to your surprise, the tenderness of his touch returning as he deliberates how to disarm you. The defensiveness you have isn’t surprising to him, it’s the note of insecurity in your tone he isn’t ready for, like you are unable to even believe it could be you. 

You’re a dandelion, he thinks, the puffballs teetering attachment to their base with one wrong move sending them astray into the wind. He’s wading treacherous weather but he finds that for you he’d do anything and everything eyes closed if he had to.

“…Really?” you ask meekly. He nods slowly, never breaking his gaze on you. “But…JJ.”

His eyes soften and he nods in understanding, “There was a point in my life where, yes that was all I was waiting to hear,” he starts, “But, I am no longer at that point in my life anymore. I’m here now. She knows that.”

You’re unconvinced, Spencer can see it clear as day. Maybe it’s more apprehensive than unconvinced, but no one could blame you. How are you to believe anything when you went through what you did in the last 24 hours? You look defeated if anything, like you’d accepted your fate of always coming second place.

Spencer racks his brain hard trying to think of a way to show you that the podium doesn’t even exist, it’s only ever been you.

He pulls out his wallet and rifles through the many things inside, finding what he’s looking for before handing it to you. You look up at him in confusion when you make it out to be a movie ticket stub from the Korean film festival you’d both attended a little after you started at the BAU, the first time the two of you ever spent time together. The edges are soft and smoothed out as a result of time, like it’s been held and comforted for many days.

“There’s more in my apartment.”

“Movie ticket stubs?” you ask bemused.

“Commemorations of you,” his fingers brush the span of your arm up and down soothingly, “I probably have something for every time we’ve ever hung out. If it reminds me of you, I have it.”

Tears well up in your eyes for the umpteenth time, a few spilling over rapidly.

“Hey no, you’re not supposed to cry at that.” he whispers softly between you, his thumb taking the rightful and familiar place under your eye to catch the tears.

You shake your head, “I don’t think I’ve ever been loved like this.”

His heart tightens, “No? Well, I think you have to get used to it now.”

“No choice?” you pout.

He catches the timbre of humor in your voice and smiles widely. He hugs you tightly, pressing your head into his chest, “I guess you don’t have to. Just because you’re not used to it doesn’t mean I’ll stop. If you’re like this now, wait till you see the box I have of our things.”

You sniffle again, your head reeling as your tears stain his shirt and the scent of him invades your being. It’s overwhelming and all consuming, just how you know Spencer to be. He doesn’t expect you to believe him right away, you’ve been through so much that it would be unfair to ask that of you. You don’t know what tomorrow holds, or even the rest of this night, but one thing you have learned is that to Spencer you are known, and therefore you are loved.

[eraserbread]

Husband Nanami driving and taking care of us after getting our wisdom teeth removed 👀?

so cuteeeee ٩>ᴗ<)و i needed to write this i think it healed me a lil

➽─────────────────────────────❥

when nanami saw you again in the afternoon, your face was a swollen shiny rendition of the one he dropped off this morning. it was only three hours ago, but it felt like a lifetime. kento's never had to see you like this, and as you nod off in his passenger seat, he's more than happy to wait until you're settled enough to drive off.

"we'll go if you're feeling okay." he's using a soft voice, privy to the fact you're still prisoner to the effects of anesthesia. nanami leans over and grabs the top of your thigh, squeezing there to let you know you're with him. either he's stupidly biased, or his wife still looks stunning with a swollen face and bloody lips. especially when you turn and pout at him, pretty eyes all glassed over and pained.

"go. go, hurts." your words are mushing into each other, leaving ken with the task of piecing them together again. he hears your pain and is so fucking quick when he turns over the engine and starts back home.

on the way back, you start to liven up again, noting passing street signs and commenting on how delicious kens arms look in his long-sleeved shirt. most of what you're saying doesn't make sense to him, but it does to you. it does just enough to get you going with tears in your eyes and conviction behind your tone.

just like when you saw two stray cats tail-in-tail through the neighborhood. ken drove by them so fast that he didn't even notice, but the sight of them made you fucking sob.

"ouh, ken, it's us." you whine, grasping at the window like you want to get out. as they fade off into the distance, you're left whining and begging him to turn around so you can take them home.

"what?" he's hardly regarding you, but his hand is still pressed to your thigh.

"the kitties - two of'em, so cute." you slur, sniffling back the promise of tears. "if you were a kitty, I know you'd protect me. you act all big n mean like a hissy kitty, then tell me I'm pretty... i jus' love you so much."

"kitties can't speak, nanami baby." he starts, just to be reasonable. then, he gives you what you want. "but, you're right. i'd find some way to call you pretty if I was a cat."

then, kento spends the next three days off of work and by your side. he spoon-feeds you soft yogurts and ice cream, completely blending your favorite meals so it's easier on your mouth. impossibly, he refrains from kissing your pouty, swollen lips. he'll just graze over your cheek in passing and still call you beautiful.

it's the least he can do after you've done so much for him. and it's caught in these stupid little moments when you don't know what you're saying, that reminds him why he chose you for a lifetime.

[brittle-doughie]

I’ll Take You V1 (I’ll Miss You Alt)

Some things are not fated to last, but trying to push closer only makes love farther out of reach. Results can be fatal.

———————————————————————

Five Cookies were baked by the Witches, radiant beings graced with wisdom and power unparalleled. The Five were destined to reshape the tempestuous world and usher in a new age of peace and prosperity for all.

Seeing as how the Five were unlike most Cookies, they could live on for far longer, the Witches have decided to bake one more Cookie. A Cookie that wasn’t as strong or held great power like them, but rather…as a companion for any of the Five to cherish and love dearly.

The love blossomed into something more that could be considered as forever happiness…

———————————————————————

You’ve always looked up to the Fount of Knowledge to know many aspects of this world like the back of his hand! However, all of the knowledge in the world wouldn’t compare to the joys he would have spending time with you!

He likes to spend his time in the Spire of All Knowledge cuddled up next to you as he reads books with you, showing you the many wonders of Earthbread! He always kept the stories interesting with his mannerisms and funny way of speaking, you’re never bored when he reads.

He makes sure to always leave time away from writing in scrolls and books to have moments with you, why would he keep his cutie patootie waiting on him! The texts could wait, snuggling up to you by his tower window was much more preferable to him!

“Man, you always tell such fascinating tales, my fair Fount! It almost makes me feel dull in comparison!”

“Oh, don’t let those little words come out of your mouth again! You are way more fascinating than any of the books I have! I can write whole books on their own on what you’re just oh so great to me!”

“Oh stop, you’re just saying things.”

“Far from it, my little Cookie~ It’s the honest truth~”

The two of you share a laugh as you look out the spire window, leaning on each other…

———————————————————————

The Herald of Change always had that bit of a grumpy side to him when it came to getting him out of his temple to come look at the new civilizations and kingdoms being created everyday.

Everything was the same to him no matter the result, but he could never say no to your requests to visit these civilizations. Your enthusiasm to see what could possibly be different was pretty infectious, encouraging him to go with you in these visits.

He was quite the protective one too, insisting that in return of going with you, you are to stick by his side as you two walked. He makes sure of that by having one of his arms around your waist, he behaves himself but will shoot a glare anyone getting too close.

“Look at that spring the townspeople made, my Herald! Look at the flowers blooming from the water and the creatures that inhabit in and around it, isn’t it wonderful?”

“It’s remarkable, but it’s nothing new to me. I’ve seen many springs like this before, they come and go eventually. Just like the many civilizations we’ve visited today, there’s so much more that I can get done by now!”

“The destination may be the same, but the journey doesn’t have to. It can be different compared to another, so many different ways Cookies behave and act, environment changing with many different plants and creatures. Tell me just one thing that you wouldn’t want to change.”

The Herald, looking down at the ground, slowly formed a smile as he softly laughed, turning his gaze to look at you. One of his arms going around you to hold you close to him.

“I’d say….”

“It would be us that I would never want to change.”

“Aw….”

The two of you hold onto each other close as you both looked on at the lively spring.

———————————————————————

The Seeker of Volition was immensely patient and considerate of you, shaping and changing her realm to make you as comfortable as you can be. She knows things around the Ivory Pagoda may not too interesting or extravagant, but that was alright with you. So long as you were with her.

Her displays of affection were pretty subtle that no Cookie that visited her would’ve suspected that you and her had something close and in a way, it made it more special to her. The gentle hand holding, the way she caressed your cheek as she spoke to you, it was small yet held so much love that she shared with you.

She’s always wondered why you never asked for a wish from her, with how many Cookies that visited her wanting that exact thing. Well, you didn’t really want to wish for anything, the Seeker was enough for you. Being able to stand by her side like this was a wish come true. She didn’t understand your refusal for a wish, but…it touched her that she was enough for you.

“After all the Cookies that have come to me for a wish, I did not think you wouldn’t be one of them. Is there not anything you want wish for?”

“Oh, Seeker. We’ve been through this, ehe. I do not want a wish, I have all that I need here at the Ivory Pagoda. As long as there’s this, I’m happy.”

“You are? After spending all of your time here at the Ivory Pagoda with me, you must have some sort of wish you want granted. Please, say the word. I shall fulfill it to the best of my abilities.”

“Well….”

“Yes?”

“I wish to take a walk around the Pagoda with you. Just the two of us.”

The Seeker was not expecting such a simple and mundane wish, she would’ve seen it as a waste if it came from any other Cookie, but…

To hear it from you…it made giggle softly with a smile.

“Hm…hehe, very well. I shall grant you your wish, my dearest Cookie.”

The two of you hold hands as you leave out the doors to her Pagoda, intending to enjoy a peaceful walk together…

———————————————————————

But could that happiness really last forever?

As time went on, it felt the Cookies you once held dear to you had changed, no longer being the Cookies you once loved. It was as if the power they held was slowly warping their minds and ideals into something more twisted and dark.

“But we both know it’s ever too good to happen.”

———————————————————————

The Fount could never be truly honest with you, always masking his words that tinged with deceit, always making a game of things. Even the books and text he’d were how you remembered…

“Fount, this..isn’t how the story went the last time I’ve heard about it…”

“Oh, that boring ol’ story? I helped myself to make a few changes that really added to the pizzazz of it all, don’t you think?”

“But that never happened! It’s a complete fabrication! Real Cookies have gone through those events, I feel like we shouldn’t tarnish that to make it “interesting.”

“Oh my! I’m hurt! I just wanted to make it more good! Oh well, I’m sure those Cookies wouldn’t mind, right? Come on, let’s read another, shall we?”

“N-no, I don’t want to read another. I’ll just..be in my room.”

“Hey! Where you going?! I swear the details on the next one are accurate! Mostly! Maybe!”

———————————————————————

The Herald never could see how you see the many locations and civilizations you two see, always groaning and muttering that it was boring to him. It had gotten to the point where he ignored you and remain sat on his seat in the temple.

“What do you mean you’re not going?”

“I mean it. You say that all these places would be different in their own ways, but it’s all been the same! It bores me when I have to go through the same thing over and over again!”

“I-I promise that I’ll keep your interest piqued with this one-“

“NO!”

He destroyed a nearby table with a single hit.

“You can go on without me from now on. I have no reason to endure something so boring as another town visit…”

“R-right, okay, I’ll just…go.”

You hastily leave as the Herald looked at his fist that broke the table, he realized something as a large grin on his face formed…

“That…felt good….”

———————————————————————

The Seeker didn’t feel like herself anymore with the coldness and apathy she now radiated. She didn’t push you away when trying to be close like old times, but she didn’t really reciprocate your affections like she would back then. It felt like..she didn’t love you all that much anymore.

“Where you going?”

“I must return to the Ivory Pagoda in order to continue my pursuit of becoming a Leavened One.”

“I know this Leavened One status is important to you, but…wouldn’t that mean I won’t get to see you much anymore. I can’t bear that…”

“Oh, Y/N Cookie…”

She caressed your cheek, but it didn’t feel right. There was no sense of love placed into it, as if she only did it to calm you down by reminding you of the past.

“You should know that I hold this opportunity dear to me, but it does not mean I value you any less, it is meaningless to worry. I must go.”

“What about my wish to spend the day together…?”

“You should also know that not every basic wish will be granted. I am sorry…”

———————————————————————

Regardless, it felt like you were kicked to the curb as you walked outside during the night.

You were not happy. You look up at the sky, wondering if your Creator was looking down at you too.

You ask them how could things go so wrong. What purpose could you have now that the Cookies you were made for weren’t themselves anymore? Were they even the same Cookies at this rate?

You ask…what could you do…?

…

…

…

You look down, only now noticing a nearly invisible string flowing in the air, red in color as it looked like it came from your chest. You reached up to hold it and in doing so, the string was seemingly cut and it floats away into the sky…

That…oddly felt liberating. You looked at your hands and realized that..you did have meaning outside of your purpose. There was a whole world out there that you could now explore! Many things to see and Cookies to meet!

You felt rejuvenated and head off to rest for tonight. Tomorrow, you’ll be a new Cookie!

Surely, the “Virtues” wouldn’t mind if you were gone for a little while, right?

…

…

…

…

But you weren’t the only one who felt a change after that string was cut…

The spire trembled.

The temple shook.

The cocoon violently spasmed.

Their occupants having felt the full effects…

The Fount suddenly tore the book they were “changing” as he keeled over, clutching his chest where his heart was…he felt…empty.

The Herald started a rampage in his temple, the pain in his chest fueling his anger and muddied despair as he destroyed everything…he felt…lost.

The Seeker, once settled in her cocoon, was now clutching her head with both her hands as she lets out silent screams of anguish, the pain in her chest amidst a void of white too great to ignore…she felt…voided.

One by one, they fall….

They’d find you, and they’ll take you….

———————————————————————

You were just about to carry on in your boat out of the continent when a sheep wandered to you.

“Oh hello, little sheep. You lost your way from your herd?”

“Baaaaa….”

“Why are you looking down? Come on, look at me…”

The sheep suddenly jolted up to look you, it looked furious as it’s eyes glowed shades of blue.

“BAAAAAA!”

“What?!”

The sheep poofed into blue smoke, and in its place was now a very angry Cookie.

“My Fount?!”

“ERRR! WRONG! Now let me ask you a question. WHY DID YOU LEAVE?!”

Shadow Milk Cookie had found you right as you were about to leave Beast-Yeast.

“I’m sorry, my Fount. But…I can’t do this anymore. You are no longer the Cookie I know and loved. You lie to me, you twist things so badly, I can’t even tell what’s true and what’s not.”

“I do not lie to you! I never could! You weren’t supposed to leave me behind! You were supposed to stick to me like glue for as long as the two of us lived!”

“We all change, Fount. That includes you and me.”

“Is that it?! Are you just going to walk away from EONS worth of our time together all for my new change of style?!”

“You are NOT going anywhere! You are coming back with me to that Spire and we are going to adore and be mushy to each other like always!”

“I’m going, Fount. I’ve made my decision…”

“Oh…hehe….ehehehe~!”

“What? What are you laughing for-“

Your movements are stopped, you are horrified to see blue strings wrapped tightly around your arm. You try to free yourself, but you found that all your limbs were wrapped in strings too. You pulled into his arms as he giggled menacingly to you, a shadow over his eyes.

“Oh, you silly little thing~ I never would’ve expected you to lie to ME! My brand new style doesn’t mean my heart went out the window! If you can’t accept how deceit seeps into the very cracks of this world, then…”

He leans in real close to your face, whispering in a chilling voice…

“I’ll just have to take you, cutie~ Ehehehe~”

You were never seen again…

———————————————————————

You were having a peaceful time in the civilization you were staying at, enjoying a nice meal provided by the locals when…

“AAAAAH! Run for your lives!”

“He’s destroying everything in his path, watch out!”

“ARGH! It hurts!”

The screams of Cookies in the distance alerted you to turn around from where you were sitting to see Cookies running away from something.

And their screams weren’t the only ones you were hearing.

“COME OUT TO ME, LITTLE COOKIE! I KNOW YOU’RE HERE SOMEWHERE!”

The Herald(?!) shouted in anger as he was breaking and bashing through anything in his path up ahead.

Cookies that were in his way were simply hit back with enough force to send them into walls or sliding back on the ground, he didn’t give them any time to move.

“Ah! Please! Show mercy!”

“Mercy?! There IS no mercy for you WORMS!”

The Cookie on the ground from an earlier attack tried to get up, but groaned in pain as Burning Spice Cookie slowly raised his weapon, the Cookie covers their face to brace for impact.

“STOP!”

Burning Spice Cookie immediately stops to look in the direction of your shout and locking eyes with you, he heads for you.

“Please, don’t hurt any more Cookies!”

“So…you’ve been here all along, spending time amidst these ANTS! The tide of Change will sweep through all, leaving everyone here as nothing but dust in the wind!”

“Have you NO IDEA how long I’ve looked for to find you when you didn’t come back the temple?!”

“To not see you by my side for DAYS?!”

“I know you’re mad, but please, you don’t have to do this! I’ll..I’ll come back with you…”

“Will you now…? I must be sure!”

“What are you-“

Your talk was stopped when he grips your shoulders and brought you to a rough kiss that left you coughing spice when he pulled away.

“Hahaha! Yes! I remember this feeling now! I expect you to stay in the temple with me, for as long as we live! I promise not to break you too easily, ahahaha!”

You felt conflicted as you were dragged with him back to the temple. He’d never let you go as easily again…

———————————————————————

You say farewell to a close friend of yours as you head inside your home. You were ready to turn in for the night as you offed the lights, it was particularly foggy tonight, so you chose to keep things closed up before you turned in for tonight.

You close your eyes and drift off to sleep..or at least, you tried to before you hear a slight creak in your room. You sit up and look, only to see a pair of slit pupils staring right back at you in the darkness in the room.

Neither of you move….

…

…

…

“I may give nothing for your loyalty, but to see you offer your mind and soul to another, right after I had been free from my cocoon…you will learn that it was pointless to try and leave me…”

“My Seeker?!”

She barely gives you time to let the realization sink in before she rushed forward to hold your cheeks in her hands, lifting you up effortlessly to bring you face to face with her as she looks down at you. Her eyes wide open and pitch black, her slit pupils bearing down on yours.

She was as expressionless as ever, but her eyes told you everything you needed to know that she was mad. You felt weak, dough turning pale..

“I never forgot our bond, the years upon years that we shared…my rise to the Leavened One should not have been a path I walked alone…”

“Why are you saying..?”

“I should’ve shared my feelings with you, to show you that everything will be futile in the end. Just like your intentions to leave me as just a thought…”

“No, you don’t have to…”

“THIS is my wish. To have you see what I see, to feel how I feel. About everything, about you…”

“No, please…”

“I promise…I promise to not have us walk alone anymore…”

Everything was a blur as she took you away from your home, up the stairs; and back to the Ivory Pagoda. The last of the outside world forever a distant memory as the cocoon wrapped up once more, Mystic Flour clutching you close to her body.

Together in a world of white, that is what she always wished for…

———————————————————————

“I loved you

Even though I loved you

I’ll treat you like this

Like the traitor you are

Return my feelings

I loved you

Even though I loved you

Forever”

———————————————————————

[kabuki-writes]

And All Eyes Were Set On Brutus

chapter: 3 chapter 1 | 2 | 4

pairing: emperor geta/emperor caracalla x acacius' daughter!reader

summary: After their visit of the Colosseum, Marcus Acacius worries even more about his beloved daughter. Meanwhile a dangerous rumor finds its way into the Emperor's ears.

warning(s): NSFW | mention of violence | mention of alcohol | swearing | sexual implications | semi-edited | english is not my first language, faults may occur | please let me know if i missed anything

Note: Thank you all for your ongoing support and your comments on my previous chapters✨🙇‍♀️! I really enjoy to write this fic as a Geta and Cara stan myself and it honors me that you continue to share your love for these two and this fic. I really hope you like this chapter as well, because this time it gets a little more... spicy.🌶️

word count: 3.6k

Rome was becoming nothing more than a painful cage for General Acacius. From the very first day he had to wear the white armor of victory, he felt like a slave with no other choices than to watch how everything he had known changed for the worse. He despised himself for not being able to protect his own daughter from the eyes of the Emperors, that were now set on her. He should've never taken her with him, he should've sticked with his principles. But then again, what choice did he even have, when he faced an order by the most powerful men in the world.

There was no chance to defy them openly, speaking up now would bring danger to his whole family as they would have to face the consequences of Marcus Acacius' actions. He wasn't so delusional and naive to think that the anger of the Emperors would only befall him alone, no, they weren't like that. So when the day came and a senator stepped forward to the General, he hesitated. Geta and Caracalla were beloved by the people as they gave them victories, bread and games - as long as the plebs had that, no one gave a damn about who sat on top. For them it was all the same, but the senate was different.

After the death of Emperor Commodus, the senate reestablished the Roman Republic, but wasn't able to secure their power. Many cities and regions took their chance to rebel against Rome as most of the generals refused to serve the new order - that included Marcus Acacius as well, who quickly sided with his old friend and brother-in-arms Septimius Severus, the father of the now ruling Emperors Geta and Caracalla. They took their legions and marched on Rome, where Severus took the power from the senate again only one year after the rebirth of the Republic. Acacius did believe in Severus, he did believe in the vision his friend had for Rome as well as his strength and wisdom as Emperor. Nearly two decades he was not disappointed while he served his old friend as a close advisor and his first general.

The senate got reduced to nothing more than a theater stage, with no real power or influence. And Acacius was sure that they would forever hate him for the service he did to Severus. Yet men like Gracchus must've sensed that the general was getting more and more delusional given the current reign of the twins. So the politicians approached him carefully and together they formed an alliance in the shadows. Their plan: Overthrowing the two Emperors and install the Republic again. Acacius stood never on the side of the senate... but nothing was as terrible as Geta's and Caracalla's tyranny. And if that is a way to protect his daughter and his family from them, he happily claimed himself a Roman Republican now.

Coming from one of his nightly visits at senator Gracchus' home, Acacius noticed that there was someone still sitting in the inner garden of his Roman city residence. He took off his cloak and approached you slowly as you watched the turtles in the small pond between the plants and flowers, while the water of a small fountain rippled in the silence. "Your mother told me, that you were sitting here the whole day", he said with a low tone, careful not to scare you with his sudden appearence, before he took a seat right next to you on the stone bench. When he watched your face, he saw all the thoughts that were probably going through your head after the situation in the Collosseum yesterday. For a long moment, the two of you simply sat in silence, while one of the turtles walked along a mosaic before it fell into the water.

"I am not a child anymore, i don't want you or mother to protect me any longer", you suddenly whispered, before your head turned to your father. In your eyes he saw how you struggled to maintain your neutrality as you faced the danger that may come over you, if you'd accept this new attention further. "And yet i don't know how to deal with... them? I suppose i cannot refuse any of this?" Your question carried a sense of pain, because you already knew the answer and it was equally as hard for your father to shake his head in response.

"I thought so...", you mumbled and leaned forward give one of the turtles a leaf of salad you had snached from the dinner table earlier. Acacius had seen many battles and many terrible things, but nothing was harder than to see you like this. And nothing was harder than to feel helpless. All he could do was laying his hand softly and reassuring on your shoulder.

„You’re my daughter, y/n. And you’re right, even if I want it to, I can not protect you anymore… all I can promise you, that it is going to be alright."

He searched for a way to fix all of this, even though he couldn't tell you how. It was better this way as it would only drag you deeper into the dead end that your own father had already set up. The mere thought about it made his heart grow even more painful.

"Do you regret it sometimes?", you suddenly asked, looking at the vibrant clear water of the pond. "What do you mean?"

"That you marched with Emperor Severus back then?"

This question wasn't easy to answer, it was written on Acacius face, as he turned his face to the turtles and sighed.

"I did believe in Severus... i still do. Under him, Rome was able to secure itself and become strong again. What comes after that now - only time will tell. But what i know is that i have to leave in a few weeks with my troups again. An order of the Emperors."

It wasn't a particular surprising news, but nonetheless your fingers digged themselves into the fabric of your toga-like blue dress, while you still hept your head high. Despair was no useful emotion and not a good thought right now. You needed to stay calm, stick to yourself and find a way on how to deal with all of the things that were happening. As you'd said you were no child anymore - you will find a way out if this, even without your father.

You didn't say a word in response, however you closed your arms around him as the fear that with him being gone it could get even worse, lingered on your mind. Little did you know that the world you had known was already on the brink of falling apart.

_____________________________________________

The smell of incence, wine, sweet perfume and sweat filled the rooms of Emperor Caracalla's chambers, while naked bodies moved themselves to the rythm of a small group of musicians. The melodies of their instruments mixed themselves with the moans of the men and women in ecstacy, the worshippers of Bacchus - god of wine, euphoria and madness. Drinking and making love was the way they prayed nearly every night as Caracalla found in it a way to escape the reality that almost drove him crazy. Here in his chambers, the only Emperor that mattered was him, the only word that was heard was his own. At least one small realm for himself, while he had to share the rest of the world with his twin brother.

But it was different this time, when he stared at the scenery with a mind clouded in intoxication. His breaths went ragged, while he sat on a bed decorated with velvet cushions, a young man kneeled between his legs and sent him to elysium with his tongue, while he was surrounded by beautiful slaves, women with golden chains, that decorated their naked breasts and hips. And yet even in a scenery like this, where he usually found a way to calm his restless mind, he was still thinking about her. Not only her, sadly - that goddamn General was another thought. The hero of Rome was no pleasant figure for him anymore, he was nothing more than a Brutus, but Caracalla was not the one to end up like Julius Caesar.

The mere thought of killing this treacherous son of a whore hit Caracalla's brain and made him cum into the mouth of the slave that had his dick deep in his throat. This peak of his pleasure would've helped him to relax if not one of the praetorian guards stepped in and walked with his black and lilac amror through the voyeristic scenery like it was a halluzination in front of the Emperor's eyes. Without a second thought, Caracalla simply pushed the young slave, who was still sitting at his feet, to the side and stood up. His hand quickly grabbed the white toga that layed on the floor which he threw over his own naked, pale body. "Why do you disturb me!?", he hissed, as if he wasn't already expecting him.

The soldier ignored the music, the slaves that layed on the ground and fucked each other, just as he ignored the half-naked Emperor right in front of him, who still wore his golden laurel crown and his jewelries. "Emperor Geta waits for you."

For a moment, the young man with the gingerblonde hair stared at his guard, before he nodded quickly, as if it got him out of a daydream. "Yes, yes i will come to him, i am right there, tell him that. And get that slave Marcellus here," he answered, hand waving him away before his tone shifted and he screamed at his 'guests'. "Get out, GET OUT OF MY SIGHT! NOW!" The music stopped immediately and all eyes were set on Caracalla, while the first slaves already got to their feet again. „NOW,“ he repeated in a louder and added in a hissing tone „…or I will claim your tongue with a dagger!“

Caracalla was impossible to read fully, just as he was impulsive. It would’ve not been the first time one participant of this nightly debaucheries had lost his tongue or another part of his body.

_____________________________________________

Emperor Geta waited in his embroidered night robe, which was half open, exposing his bare and pale chest. Sitting on a cushioned wooden chair, he stared with tired eyes out the window of the balcony, the darkness of Rome in front of him. Just as his brother he had someone in his chambers, but instead of a whole horde of slaves he had chosen one good whore with hairs that reminded him of you. It was just a dull replacement, he knew that, yet it was enough for a good fuck before he would’ve went to sleep.

If there was not his twin brother, who‘d call for him in the middle of the goddamn night. By the gods he hated to be disturbed like that, especially after countless of times his brother got him here only to share uninteresting - sometimes even paranoid - gossip with him, which Caracalla had heard from the mouth of one of his slaves.

When the curtains of the attached room opened and Geta saw his brother entering with his wild hair and only with a toga over his bare body, his nose twitched in anger. „Don‘t tell me you disturbed my sleep and called for my immediate coming while you were fucking whores at your damn orgy!? When you’re telling me that your problem is, that you can’t sleep now, I will cross you myself!“ Yes, it wasn’t the first time Caracalla had called him for such nonesense. And usually Geta had a lot of patience with him, given his psychological condition, but not tonight.

Caracalla stopped in an instant and looked at his brother with big eyes as if he tries to convince him that he wasn’t guilty of anything. „Yes, but- I had a reason for that!“ he insisted, which only fueled Geta's anger. „Lucinius, bring us the slave!“ Caracalla quickly said and the Praetorian guard who just had informed him about his brother came in with a skinny, yet tall young man. He was a slave but given the clothes he wore, it was clear that he had a higher rank within the household he was serving in.

„Who is that, one of your toy boys?“ Geta asked, eying the stranger he‘d never seen before. But Caracalla shook his head and stepped forth to place his hand on the shoulder of that slave.

„No! He is a slave from the household of senator Gracchus,“ he explained and couldn’t hide an almost devilish smile as this said slave was here for one reason alone - to tell them everything. „Marcellus, tell him,“ he ordered and whispered into his ear. „I promised you your freedom and a good amount of gold, to return to your family. You want to see your daughter again, right? So don’t disappoint me now.“ With those words he stepped back for a moment, giving the slave a moment to breath as he seemingly tried to find the right words. He was nervous, the way his fingers twitched and his eyes were glued to the marble ground under his feet.

"I... i am a servant in the household of senator Gracchus for nearly a decade now", Marcellus began and forced himself to look up into the testing eyes of Geta, who was growing more impatient with each second passing. "The General... General Acacius as well as a couple of other senators visit my master regularly in the middle of the night and they always retreat into a secret room in the cellar of his villa."

With an amused whistle Geta interrupted him. "Why should we care for the sexual escapades of a group of old men?", he hissed, but Caracalla threw in with a darkened shimmer in his eyes. "Wait for it, you will be furious, trust me! Continue."

Marcellus needed a second to calm himself down and stop to shake as he formed his next words. "When i brought them wine once, they stopped with their conversation as long as i stayed in the room, but when i was in the corridor, they spoke again. They didn't know that i was still there, so i just listened and- it was clear that they questioned you, my Emperors. They questioned your leadership and the general - i wouldn't dare to speak out loud such a blasphemy against your rule, if it was not what i've heard with my own ears."

Geta's face darkened with every new information Marcellus was telling him and slowly he realized why his brother was so eager to get him here. The laugh of his twin filled the room, which turned hysterical. "Tell him, Marcellus!"

"General Acacius and the senators Gracchus, Livinidus, Galba and Erebus plan to overthrow you with the legions that are under Acacius' command," he said and had to force every word out of his mouth, afraid of the anger that cooked like a vulcano in Geta. His hands formed fists and he bit his tongue. All this time, Acacius - the hero - was a traitor, a Brutus. And now he connected the dots, thinking about every time this General wined about going off to war. This maggot.

"And this is true!?", he asked in a loud, demanding tone. "If that is a lie, we will punish you in the most terrible ways you could imagine and feed you to the lions in the Colosseum!" Marcellus eyes were filled with tears of fear, yet he shook his head heavily.

"No, please! I speak the truth, i swear it! I swear it in front of Jupiter himself, please, you must believe me! I came to Emperor Caracalla, who promised me my freedom if i tell it here again. It is no lie!"

"Kill him", Geta ordered in a cold tone and before Marcellus could even scream, it was the blade of the Praetorial Guard that cut his head off from behind, making it fall to the ground like a ball of bones and meat, followed by his body. Under the resounding laugh of Caracalla, Geta ordered the Guard to leave them so that he could speak to his brother in private.

"You just read my mind, dear brother! I wouldn't have let him go either", Caracalla sang. "We should kill them all, that bastard Acacius and his old senate sluts! Let's cut off their heads and spike them on the Palatin for all to see!"

But Geta was already two steps ahead when he closed the distance between him and his twin. Yes, he was furious, it took him all restraints to not give in the urge of ordering their murder. "No," he said, which drew a questioning look on his brothers face.

"What no?! Those are traitors, TRAITORS! You've heard the same things i did!?"

"I did, but the senators are no danger. These old men talk about the republic which is nothing more than dust and ashes! A faded dream and without any backing, they just continue to shit themselves in the senate. When our father took Rome, the people cheered to him, because they didn't want a Republic but a strong Emperor to guide them, remember? The head of the snake is Acacius! He must die, and he will die, but not yet!", Geta started and turned to the balcony, leaving his brother for a moment as he stood in the darkness with his his white toga. "We need his legion, and we will make him our fucking dog, who has no chance to ever decline any order of us, if we have his beloved daughter. If he doesn't do as we say, then she will die."

But he will, Geta knew that. Nothing seemed to be more precious in Acacius' life than his family and especially his dear daughter. And this whole situation had a bonus for Geta, because when he turned to face Caracalla again, he announced. "I will force him with an order to marry his daughter to me!"

Caracalla froze in place, his eyes staring at his brother as if he just had a bad dream. "What?", he simply asked again, while his brother's anger turned into anticipation. "With a marriage we bind her to our reign and therefore we will bind the General. Acacius delivers us his own daughter and his own head on a silver tablet with his treacherous nonsense!"

Geta wanted to place his hands on his twin's shoulders, but Caracalla slapped them out of his way. "I don't accept this! NO! I DON'T ACCEPT THIS!", he screamed at him, which really irritated his twin. "Why can't I be the One to marry her!?"

There it was. For the first time, the twins revealed in front of each other that they longed for the same girl. And that made it complicated. Nonetheless Geta was still confused, why his brother reacted like that, so he reminded him of what Caracalla said all those years.

"You never wanted to marry? How many times did you told our father before he died? Every time he said to us, that we would need to find ourselves someone to take as a wife, you refused. You were too busy indulging in your late night activities and Bacchus rituals."

He stepped forward with an intense glaze in his eyes. This way of being instructive, while Caracalla was still his twin and technically even older than him, made his brother's mouth twitch in response to his next words. "May i remind you about the fact that i am the one of us dealing with most of the political responsibilities, because you always wanted to stick to your fun."

Those words were indeed true, as Caracalla hated those senate discussions, which lead to nothing and were only for show - an illusion for both the plebs and the upper-classes. Geta continued, but not without making clear that he saw himself worthier of you being his wife, bound in front of the gods. "All of that is fine, brother. I've always protected you from the boring senators and hypocrites of the Roman elite, while you collected the most beautiful slaves and enjoyed yourself. You have no duties, as long as i take them off your shoulders and finally shut up all the people, finally demanding a royal marriage after all those years. And given all of that, i do think i deserve to marry before you to present Rome an Empress."

Caracalla stared at him, straight into the eyes of his twin Geta and his fingers twitched. If he would just have a dagger now? But he had none right here and given the fact that his brother was always taller and stronger with his statue, it wouldn't make sense to start a fight. In fact he couldn't even argue against him, as it was true, he was never an Emperor that bothered himself with any political nonesense. Yet he couldn't shake off the urge to kill Geta for this. Again, he took a thing from him he wanted to own for himself - only for himself. Even though his twin showed his goodwill, as he always did. His hands layed itself on Caracalla's cheeks and he gave him a brotherly kiss on the forehead. "Don't worry, dear brother. I am not above sharing her divine presence with you. But she will always be my wife," he whispered, followed by a smile on his lips.

With those words he simply turned and left the room, leaving Caracalla, who was still wearing his white toga over his naked body, as well as the body of Marcellus alone in the dark. His mind got corrupted with so many thoughts in this very moment, but the most prominentely thought was anger. So he screamed hysterically and grabbed the table that stood at the side to throw it down, taking the vase on top and hurled it straight through the room, followed by the head of that damn slave. He hated Geta. He hated him so much and still they had shared the whomb of their mother, which made them share the same blood.

How long would he be able to hold the urge to murder his own brother - especially now as Geta claimed you?

_____________________________________________

Tags:

quuinyoung koshkahhh mmkkzz analves pandora-journey ange-olras tellynojelly targwh0re h3k3t onelemonoat whitenoise808 spooky-cupid dev1lbella onelemonoat hawraa-alzubaidi omg-hellgirl the-holy-pigeon

[trulyumai]

belittling the reign

synopsis: the people began to doubt Geta, and in return, so did members of the senate. The emperor began to act wildly, his temper just a reach away. It all came crashing down when a man of the senate brought the empress up and how she would fall with the emperor.

pairing: Emperor geta / empress! reader

Warnings: Violence, anger, choking, death. Protectiveness/Possessive.

The room was dim, save for the flicker of torchlight dancing across the stone walls. Geta sat at the long table, his goblet half-full, eyes fixed on the dull gleam of his dagger. He had been deep in thought, tired from the endless political maneuvering of the Senate, when the sound of approaching footsteps interrupted his silence.

The door creaked open, and a figure entered—Marcus, a senator known for his sharp tongue and sharper ambitions. Geta didn’t look up as the man approached, choosing instead to swirl the dark wine in his cup.

“Geta,” Marcus began, his voice oozing with false politeness. “I trust you’re well this evening.”

Geta grunted in response, not bothering to hide his disdain. He knew this man all too well—his visits were never without some form of scheming. Marcus circled the room slowly, his fingers tracing the edge of the table as he moved closer.

“You know, it’s funny,” Marcus continued, his tone casual, though laced with something more sinister. “There’s been a lot of talk in the streets lately. The citizens are starting to wonder how much longer Rome will have to bear the burden of a violent ruler.” The man let out a chuckle, it reverberated through the room and Geta swore his fingers shook with an emitting anger.

The emperor’s eyes flicked upward for the first time, meeting Marcus’s gaze with a steely intensity. The senator smiled, a smirk dancing on his lips as he leaned against the table, arms crossed.

“They say,” Marcus went on, “that there will soon be a new emperor. A man who leads not with blood, but with wisdom. One who doesn’t lose himself to rage every time a senator dares to speak out. The people... they’re excited, Geta. They’re waiting for the day Rome is free of your wrath… Maybe Caracalla would be a better fit?”

Geta’s grip tightened on the goblet, the muscles in his arm tensing as he fought to contain his growing anger. “You tread on dangerous ground, Marcus,” he warned, his voice low and cold.

Breath in. Breath out. Remember your wife, the sweet laugh, those little dimples that littered your face when he told a good story.

But Marcus was undeterred. He leaned in closer, his breath hot and smug as he whispered, “Perhaps you’re the one who should be careful. People don’t fear you anymore, Geta. They’re waiting for your death. And when it comes, oh how they’ll cheer. Finally, a ruler worthy of the Empire will take your place.”

A dark laugh escaped Marcus’s lips, but it was quickly cut off by Geta’s sudden movement. In a flash, the emperor had risen from his seat, standing tall over the senator. Marcus stiffened, but continued, confidence seemed to block the mans rational fears. “What will your pretty little wife do when you’re gone, I wonder? Maybe she’ll find solace in someone with real power.”

That was the last mistake.

Geta’s fury ignited like a wildfire, burning through every shred of control he had left. Before Marcus could react, Geta’s hand shot out, his fingers wrapping around the man’s throat. The senator’s eyes widened in shock as he gasped for breath, his hands clawing uselessly at Geta’s iron grip.

“You dare threaten my wife?” Geta growled, his voice trembling with rage. His face was twisted in a snarl, the veins in his neck bulging as he squeezed tighter. “You think you can speak to me of death? Speak to me of weakness?” He spat the words with venom, his grip tightening as Marcus’s face turned pale, then purple.

The senator’s eyes bulged, and his mouth opened and closed in silent pleas for mercy, but Geta’s rage was far beyond words now. He lifted Marcus off the ground, the senator’s feet dangling as he struggled weakly. The torchlight flickered, casting eerie shadows on the walls as Geta’s expression darkened with each passing second.

“You thought you could replace me? With my own brother?!” Geta whispered, leaning in close to the dying man’s ear. “There will be no one else, dear Marcus.  I am Rome, hm? I. Am. Rome.”

Marcus’s body jerked one last time, and then he went still. Geta held him there for a moment longer, the senator’s lifeless eyes staring into nothingness, before finally letting the body fall to the ground with a heavy thud.

The room was silent, save for the sound of Geta’s ragged breathing. He stood over Marcus’s corpse, his chest rising and falling with the aftershocks of his rage. Slowly, he lowered his hand, twisting and turning the jeweled rings around his fingers while wiping the sweat from his brow. His gaze dropped to the dead man at his feet, his heart still pounding in his chest, though calmer now.

A twisted calm, one born of violence.

“Threatening my liege. My Wife,” Geta muttered to himself, stepping over Marcus’s body as he made his way toward the door. “They will all burn before I leave the throne.”

-

The hallways were dimly lit, the flickering flames of the torches casting long, distorted shadows along the stone walls. Geta’s breathing was still ragged, his pulse pounding in his ears as he moved through the empty corridors. His hands, still tingling with the memory of squeezing the life out of Marcus, twitched at his sides. Sweat clung to his brow, slicking his skin and making his tunic stick to his chest.

He could feel the weight of what he had done. The senator’s limp body, the satisfaction that had come when his struggles ceased. It was a different kind of battle—one where no soldier could see him, and no one could speak of it.

Yet, the thrill of victory felt different this time. It wasn’t the fight he was used to. He wasn’t on the battlefield, brandishing his sword, earning the respect of his men. This victory had been personal, quiet... but more satisfying than he could have imagined. Marcus had been wrong—there would be no new ruler. Not while Geta breathed.

He thought of the senators who whispered behind closed doors, plotting to strip him of his power. He thought of the citizens who questioned his rule, who had dared to entertain the idea of another emperor, a more peaceful one. And now he thought of those who might still move against him. They had made one fatal error—they underestimated his resolve, his willingness to do whatever was necessary to protect what was his. He had been lenient for too long.

His footsteps echoed in the silence as he neared the door to his chambers. The weight of his actions, the violence he was still capable of, burned beneath his skin, but as he pushed open the heavy wooden door, the tension seemed to soften.

There, lying in the massive bed, was his wife—your form draped in blankets, the soft rise and fall of your chest showing the example of a  peaceful slumber. You were so..  completely unaware of what he had just done, unaware of the thoughts that now consumed him.

Geta stood in the doorway for a moment, simply watching. His wife had been the one constant in his life, the anchor to his rage. You had calmed him when no one else could. 

His breath still came in short bursts, his chest tight with the remnants of his fury. Slowly, he approached the bed, his legs heavy beneath him as if the weight of the world had finally caught up with him. He collapsed beside you, the bed creaking under his weight. He was slick with sweat, the heat of the earlier confrontation still radiating from his body. He exhaled deeply, his muscles sagging as he sunk into the mattress.

His wife stirred slightly, your hand brushing against his arm as she mumbled something incoherent in sleep. Your touch was soft, gentle—so unlike the violence that had consumed him only moments before. For a moment, Geta considered waking you, telling just what had transpired, but no. You didn’t need to know about the bloodshed, the threat to their life. You didn’t need to carry the burden of his thoughts.

But in the stillness of the night, with his wife sleeping so peacefully beside him, his mind churned with plans. He would not be overthrown. He would not be replaced by anyone who dared to dream of ruling Rome in his stead. Geta would seek out the usurpers, one by one. He would find every senator, every noble, every conspirator who dared question his rule, and he would deal with them the same way he dealt with Marcus. There would be no mercy.

His wife shifted again, pressing closer to him, your hand now resting on his chest, and for a brief moment, the thoughts of violence faded. He closed his eyes, savoring the feel of her warmth, the way your perfect body curved against his.

But even as his breath steadied and exhaustion began to pull him into sleep, one thought remained clear in his mind: no one would threaten his reign. No one would ever threaten you again.

And when the time came to deal with the rest of them, Geta knew, deep down, he would not hesitate. Rome was his. And he would destroy anyone who thought otherwise.

[theskywithin]

Birth Chart Breakdown: The Moon in The Houses

The Moon in your birth chart is more than just feelings—it’s where your past lingers, where your childhood echoes, where your subconscious still speaks in the language of memory. It’s the place where your soul learned safety—or the lack of it. It’s the emotional undercurrent shaping how you love, fear, react, and heal.

Wherever the Moon lands in your chart, it reveals where you still hold unspoken stories. Where your earliest wounds meet your deepest wisdom. Where you must reclaim what was once lost.

✨ 1st House: You learned early that your emotions shaped the way others saw you. So you watched yourself from the outside, adjusting, filtering, softening. But your feelings are not a performance. They are yours to own, without apology.

✨ 2nd House: Emotional security became something to hold, something tangible, something that could not slip through your fingers. But safety is not in what you possess—it’s in knowing that you, yourself, are enough.

✨ 3rd House: Words were your way of untangling the world. You felt everything, so you spoke, wrote, and analyzed—searching for meaning in every pause. But not every silence is rejection. Not every question needs an answer.

✨ 4th House: You carried the emotional atmosphere of your home like a second skin. You learned to sense shifts before they happened. But your past does not have to be your future. You can create a home within yourself.

✨ 5th House: You felt emotions in color, in sound, in movement. Your childhood joy depended on being seen. But you do not need an audience to be real. Your emotions are not a show—they are the art itself.

✨ 6th House: You took on responsibility as a form of love. You learned to be useful, to be reliable, to be the one who held it all together. But your worth is not in what you do—it’s in who you are when you let yourself rest.

✨ 7th House: You sought yourself in the eyes of another. You adapted, accommodated, made yourself easy to love. But love is not something to earn. You are already whole, even when standing alone.

✨ 8th House: You absorbed the hidden, the unspoken, the pain no one else acknowledged. You learned trust the hard way. But walls don’t keep you safe—they keep you untouched. Let yourself be seen.

✨ 9th House: Your emotions were restless, craving movement, craving more. You found safety in seeking. But meaning is not always out there. Sometimes, it’s in the stillness, in what already exists within you.

✨ 10th House: You learned that approval came with achievement. That respect was earned through effort. But you are not your success. You are not a title, an image, a role. You are enough, even in your quietest moments.

✨ 11th House: You knew how to belong. How to shift, how to blend, how to be what the group needed. But real belonging doesn’t come from performance—it comes from standing firm in who you are.

✨ 12th House: You felt everything, even what wasn’t yours. You disappeared into your mind, your dreams, your solitude. But you are allowed to exist fully, to take up space, to be known.

Where is your Moon? And what has it been trying to tell you all along? 🌙💬

[rainydetectiveglitter]

Astro Notes

🌞 Sun in the 1H — The Sun finds its strength here (considered a "place of visibility"). You’re meant to be seen and recognized, and your life feels aligned when you’re expressing yourself boldly. Themes of leadership and self-realization dominate your journey—this is the chart of someone destined to carve their own path.

🌙 Moon in the 5H — The Moon rejoices in the 5th house, so this placement brings a natural affinity for creativity, pleasure, and children. Your emotional state thrives in spaces of joy and self-expression, but watch out for getting lost in indulgence or romantic idealism.

🗣 Mercury in the 12H — Mercury here suggests hidden or esoteric knowledge. This is the chart of someone with insights that go beyond the material world. Your speech and thoughts may feel isolated or introspective, but you’re gifted with a knack for unveiling truths hidden in plain sight. Potential for prophecy or dream work!

💖 Venus in the 2H — A placement tied to Aphrodite’s love for material beauty. Venus here blesses you with a natural allure and ability to attract wealth or possessions. Harmony in relationships may stem from shared values or building something tangible together.

🔥 Mars in the 8H — The eighth house signifies taboos, shared resources, and mortality, making this a fiery yet transformative placement. You face challenges head-on, especially in areas others shy away from. Battles over inheritance, intimate bonds, or spiritual power may define key parts of your story.

💫 Jupiter in the 10H — A classic "kingmaker" placement. Jupiter elevates your public life, granting you charisma and the ability to inspire. Benefic fortune arrives when you pursue roles of authority or influence aligned with your principles. Jupiter in the 10th can also signify divine protection over your reputation.

⏳ Saturn, Uranus, Neptune, and Pallas in the 2H — A heavy emphasis on the 2nd house ties your material possessions to themes of duty (Saturn), disruption (Uranus), illusion (Neptune), and strategy (Pallas). You’re navigating the weight of what you own or value—learning to master a balance between control and letting go is crucial.

🕳 Pluto in the 12H — The 12th house governs things unseen—Pluto here is akin to Persephone's descent into the underworld. Deep, subconscious transformations may shape your life path. Spiritual growth occurs through surrender, forgiveness, and diving into your shadow self.

🌐 Chiron in the 9H — The 9th house deals with philosophy, travel, and belief systems. With Chiron here, you might struggle with your faith or find your worldview shaken by personal wounds. However, these experiences push you to share wisdom and inspire others on their own paths.

💍 Juno in the 8H — Relationships for you are not surface-level. Juno in the 8th craves deep, binding intimacy. Themes of merging and transformation play out in partnerships—this isn’t a placement for lighthearted romance. Think soul contracts over fleeting connections.

🔥 Vesta in the 1H — Vesta in the Ascendant makes you a keeper of the flame. There’s something sacred about your individuality and presence. You may dedicate much of your energy to self-discipline or perfecting your identity, often attracting those drawn to your purposeful aura.

🌀 Node in the 1H — Your destiny pulls you toward asserting independence and finding your voice. The past may tether you to partnerships or codependent tendencies, but growth lies in carving your own road.

🐍 Lilith in the 3H — The "dark goddess" in the house of communication shows a razor-sharp tongue and an unapologetically raw way of speaking. Themes of rebellion might arise in sibling relationships or education. Words become a tool of both power and seduction.

💰 Fortune in the 8H — True prosperity comes from transforming life’s challenges into opportunities. You might gain unexpected financial blessings or have a knack for finding luck in the darkest corners of life. This is an alchemist’s placement—your fortune thrives in rebirth.