#there's not nearly enough julia

[fictionadventurer]

History Channel guys: So glad to have you onboard for our docudrama. Here's the script telling you everything you need to know to play Ulysses S. Grant.

Actor: This just says, "Stare off into the distance and take a long drag on a cigar."

History Channel guys: Yeah, we're pretty sure he ended 75% of his conversations that way, so this show is going to reflect that.

Actor: Okay, then. Throat cancer, here I come!

[dizzybizz]

some magma doods bc i have spent so much time on there this past week or so

i love drawin w friends 😚

[lemoncrushh]

MASTERLIST

>> Learn a little about me and my writing here <<

Everything is in order from oldest to newest. Unfortunately, all of my 2015 blurbs and one-shots got deleted from Wattpad, and I didn't have them saved anywhere else, so we begin with 2016.

The 2016 Blurbs

Taboo You and Harry have a little fun in the bathroom during a party.

Victoria's Secret Harry meets Victoria, a beautiful plus-size woman, at a party and is quite smitten with her.

The One Where Harry Tries to Win You Back When Harry cancels your date again, you decide to go out alone.

Drunk Me Is Like Regular Me You and Harry have a cute and silly evening together. AKA, Harry can’t help being cute, even when he’s drunk.

Happy Place While staying at a cabin with friends, Harry comforts you when you’re feeling down.

You're Never This Quiet Harry has been quiet all evening and you wonder why.

You Said You'd Never Leave You worry that you can no longer handle being Harry’s girlfriend.

Show Me Your Texts, or It's Over Harry finds out you've been in contact with your ex and gives you an ultimatum.

Just for the Record After returning home from a concert with Harry, you share a smoke and a bed.

Scars You have scars and are hesitant about letting Harry see you naked for the first time.

I Miss You You’ve grown frustrated and lonely because Harry is always busy.

Best Friends You and Harry are best friends, but he would love for it be more.

Rooms On Fire (The Morning After) You meet Harry Styles at a party and have an amazing night.

Slave 4 U 2 Harry is ready to take you home for a little role play.

The Opera You and Harry can’t keep your hands off each other at the opera.

My Home You and Harry visit his family, but you have to stay in Gemma’s room.

A Night Out with Harry You take care of Harry after a drunken night out.

Back For You Harry is in town, and you go visit him at the hotel.

Melt A sexy evening with Harry.

Heartstrings You become One Direction’s new guitarist and you and your best friend Harry realize you have feelings for each other.

What's It Like You can’t sleep and decide to pay Harry a visit in the next room.

The Lucky One Harry is not too pleased when you run into your old high school crush at a restaurant.

Too Long It’s been too long since you and Harry have had sex.

Anniversary Pancakes Harry and his daughter make breakfast for his wife on their anniversary

We're Gonna Have a Baby Telling Harry he’s gonna be a dad.

Lyrics and Melodies: AM A very smitten Harry takes Julia back to his place for drinks and more music.

Claiming His Territory Harry gets jealous when he thinks another guy fancies you, and he decides to claim his territory.

This Is Me You're Talking To You and Harry are divorced, but you both still have feelings for each other.

Meeting Harry Styles After actress Mia Tangelo meets Harry Styles at a One Direction concert, he surprises her by showing up at her film premiere.

What Are You Doing New Year's Eve? Harry invites Rebecca to his Christmas party, but she overthinks too much, misinterpreting his intentions and nearly missing out on her chance to be with him on New Year’s Eve.

Kiss Me Kiss Me Samantha and Harry’s story of young romance and a first kiss.

Sweat Some post-workout sex.

Saturday Night Harry needs comforting after his performance on SNL.

Live From New York Harry’s on SNL and he gets a little jealous when he thinks you’re not there for him.

Leather and Lace The night Harry sang with Stevie at the Troubadour.

I Wish That It Could Be Like That An affair with Harry has taken its toll and is no longer enough.

Faithfully Harry shares the story of how you two met and fell in love.

Running On Empty An unfortunate incident at the gym.

Sometimes It Be That Way Soon after a breakup, Lilliana met Harry…but their relationship may have been doomed from the start.

Stones T-Shirt Commenting on Harry’s Rolling Stones shirt at a party leads to going to a concert with him.

Carrot Cake Harry has something he’s been wanting to ask Y/N, but the timing is never right.

Kinda Perfect It’s a girls’ night out and Harry shows up, but you decide not to let your new friend Tiffany know that Harry is your boyfriend.

What Happens In Vegas... Your Vegas trip to celebrate your friend’s birthday turns into a night you hadn’t expected when you meet Harry Styles in the casino.

Easy Like Sunday Morning It's your last day with Harry before he leaves.

Connect Not wanting to lose their connection, Lily takes a surprise trip to see Harry.

Comfort Food Jessica, a self-proclaimed foodie, helps her classmate Harry study for their Biology test.

Her Album Harry has finished recording his album, and he wants her to hear it. [in Harry's POV]

Ruin the Friendship It’s Ella’s birthday, and her best friend Harry plans to tell her how he feels about her.

You and I Alyssa always wanted Harry, so every time he called, she was there waiting for him at the bar. But one night, things shifted between them.

Rain Rain Lexie is on her way to visit her sister, and she’s taking Harry on the road trip with her, planning to drop him off at his friend’s house for a wedding. But the weather has other plans.

That Sunday, That Summer Kelly’s roommate Bianca talks her into participating in a celebrity charity scavenger hunt that Harry Styles surprisingly attends.

Friends Don't Harry and Gabriella have been good friends for a few years. But neither of them knows the feelings the other has.

Mistletoe & Holly Harry finally reveals to his friend Holly how he feels about her on her birthday…which just happens to be Christmas.

Dressing For Revenge // Part 2 Still heartbroken from finding your ex cheating on you, you go to a nightclub with your friend Kelsie, where not only do you run into your ex, but also a handsome gentleman who’s willing to help you get over him.

Kiss Me Deadly The annual Halloween party at the local pub has Y/N excited when she decides to invite her boss at the University, Mr. Styles. But she soon begins to second guess her decision when Harry starts acting odd. Is Harry Styles really who she thinks he is? Will this Halloween be a fantasy come true…or the kiss of death?

Through the Wall Harry is your handsome neighbour, and you keep hearing him through the wall.

bad idea harry styles is back from uni and he looks better than you remember. problem is, he's your ex's brother.

break up with your girlfriend, i'm bored part 2 of bad idea - after that one night with harry, you can't stop thinking about him...but things don't exactly turn out like you'd hoped.

Touch You’ve been having a hard time getting yourself off, so your roommate Harry offers a hand.

Filthy Cute You and Harry are in a secret relationship, and you get a little jealous when you think he’s flirting with your friend.

Out of Bounds After a few years of being a housewife, Tisa Jordan decided to go back to school. Hoping to find inspiration and a new direction in life, she didn’t expect to meet Harry Styles, a handsome British twenty-year-old. [39 chapters]

Cubicle  I’m Harry. I have a mundane job where I sit in a cubicle all day. But things just got better because the hottest babe just started working here. And I’m determined to make her mine, even if just for one night. I’m Roni. I just started this new job, but all I can think about is the hottie in the corner cubicle. I think he likes me too. [22 chapters]

Fratboy Harry Harry Styles was a boy with a reputation, one that you couldn’t care less about. Yet one night at a frat party changed everything. [10 parts]

The Entertainer Set in the 70s, Sky Jones, a young woman from L.A., meets Harry Styles, an up-and-coming musician and frontman for the band Wildfire. Told in first person from Sky’s point of view, she shares her journey and what it’s like to fall for a rockstar. [10 parts]

Too Far From Texas Stacey Barnett is a writer and a single mother. Her hands full with two daughters (one with special needs), a newly published novel, an extroverted best friend and a controlling ex-husband, the last thing she expects is to meet an international pop star. [33 chapters]

Seven Six Five They met once seven years ago. Now music has made them cross paths again. (Real Harry x Plus Size OC, enemies to lovers) [6 parts]

Tattooed Heart You are a cocktail waitress at a swanky lounge. Harry comes in one night, and you instantly dislike him. But another encounter eventually changes your opinion. (Tattoo artist!harry x waitress y/n, enemies to lovers) [6 parts]

The Entertainer II * Updates will be sporadic * What if it wasn’t the end? What if Sky did actually see Harry at the Forum in the early 80s, and he saw her too? What if fate took hold of them both, and they realized their journey was not over? Set in 1981, Harry and Sky’s story continues with more music, more romance, and a few more twists and turns.

Wild Horses * Updates will be sporadic * Amber Crosby didn’t end up with the life she’d expected, but that didn’t keep her from following her dream. A young, up and coming country recording artist, she and her band set out to do just that. Trying to leave her past behind, it wasn’t until meeting Harry Styles that she realized just how her life could take a turn and alter her future forever.

Ko-fi (if you're feeling generous and would like to support me)

Inbox (for requests, feedback or general chat)

divider credit

[skywalkerslvt]

Hi gigi! Just wanted to say I love the way you write sub anakin anddddd I wanted to request something about a very needy sub!peter parker 🤭 like maybe he bursts into your room in the middle of the night (through your window ofc) just DESPERATE for youuu

a/n: hi julia!! tysm for your message, i love this request. hope u like this lil fic that i wrote <3

CW: sexting, dirty talk, sub!peter parker, peter is a desperate whore, sexual content, 1.3k words, NOT PROOFREAD

Peter swung between buildings, trying to focus on the city below, but his phone kept buzzing in his suit pocket, vibrating with each new message from you. He was doing his best to ignore it, but it was impossible to resist the distraction when he knew it was you on the other end.

The first message was innocently playful:

"You out there saving the city, Spidey? Or just swinging around, thinking about me?"

Peter bit his lip, quickly ducking into an alleyway to pull out his phone. His fingers hesitated over the keyboard before typing back:

"Trying to focus on patrol, but you're making it hard."

He shoved the phone back into his pocket, trying to ignore the way his heart was racing, only for it to buzz again a few moments later.

"Oh really? Hard like what, Pete?"

His breath caught in his throat, cheeks flushing hot. He didn't dare respond, but he couldn't stop thinking about it.

He tried to get back to swinging, but your next message hit him like a freight train:

"Wish you were here... I'm so bored. All alone. Guess I'll have to entertain myself..."

He groaned, nearly missing his web line as the image of you sprawled out on your bed filled his mind. His cock twitched in his suit, and he clenched his jaw, trying to will the arousal away. Stay focused, Parker, he told himself. But when the next message came through, it shattered any remaining self-control:

"I keep thinking about your mouth on me. Bet you'd be so good at it, wouldn't you?"

Peter's knees almost gave out. He darted into another dark alley, pulling out his phone with trembling hands.

"Please... you can't send me stuff like that right now. I'm trying to focus."

But his desperation only encouraged you further. The next message was a photo-nothing too explicit, but just enough to show the delicate lace of your bra peeking out from under your silk nighty, your fingers pulling it down ever so slightly. The caption read:

"If only you were here to take this off me."

Peter's breath hitched. He could feel himself getting hard, his suit growing uncomfortably tight around his aching cock. He typed back a shaky response:

"You're killing me... I'm already so hard. Please stop, I can't handle it."

But he didn't want you to stop. And you knew it. The texts kept coming, each one more suggestive than the last:

"I can almost feel your hands on me, Peter. God, I bet you're such a mess right now."

"Imagine me, on my knees, looking up at you... Bet you'd lose your mind, wouldn't you, baby?"

Each message had him squirming, hips shifting involuntarily in a desperate attempt to relieve the pressure in his suit. But the final text was the one that broke him:

It was a picture of you lying on your bed, wearing nothing but black lace lingerie that hugged every curve of your body. The fabric was sheer enough to leave little to the imagination, and you had one leg bent just enough to reveal how little you were wearing beneath it. The caption was the final nail in the coffin:

"Waiting for you, Peter. Come home and play with your toy."

-

You hit "send" on the last photo, biting your lip as you stared at the screen. The picture of you sprawled out on your bed, wearing that barely-there lingerie, left little to the imagination. The caption you'd added was maybe a bit too bold, but you were already too deep in your teasing game to back down now.

For a moment, you held your breath, waiting for the familiar buzz of his reply. Instead, you just saw the little "read" notification pop up under your message... and then nothing. Your stomach flipped nervously.

Maybe I pushed him too far, you thought, chewing on your bottom lip as the seconds dragged on. Was it too much? Had you crossed some kind of line? You knew Peter could be shy, especially when it came to anything intimate. Hell, you'd been carefully toeing the line between playful and dirty all night, knowing how easily he got flustered.

But now, sitting there with no response, doubt started creeping in. Had you gone too far, teased him into a corner where he couldn't handle it anymore?

You sighed, dropping your phone on the bed and trying to push away the disappointment. Maybe he's just too focused on patrol. I shouldn't have distracted him like that. You turned on some music, trying to distract yourself from overthinking, but you couldn't help glancing at your phone every few minutes, hoping for that telltale buzz. Nothing came.

A good twenty minutes passed, and you were just about to call it a night when you heard the soft thud of something landing on your fire escape. Your heart skipped a beat. You barely had time to process the sound before you saw a shadow move behind your curtains.

Peter practically stumbled through your window, his eyes wild and breathless, his cheeks flushed a deep red. He looked like he'd run a marathon to get here, his hair sticking up in all directions and his suit clinging to his sweat-dampened skin.

"Oh," you said with a sly grin, leaning back on your bed as he stood there, panting and wide-eyed. "Looks like Spidey decided to finally show up."

Peter's gaze raked over you, lingering on the lace that hugged your curves, the same set you'd sent him in the picture. He swallowed hard, his breath hitching when your eyes locked on his.

"Y-you... I couldn't... I tried to focus," he stuttered, his voice coming out broken and needy. "But I-I couldn't stop thinking about you."

You tilted your head, pretending to consider his words as you slowly crawled to the edge of the bed, closing the distance between you. "Oh, really?

So, all that ignoring my messages was just you trying to be a good little hero?"

Peter's knees nearly buckled at the teasing tone in your voice, his fingers twitching at his sides as if he didn't know what to do with his hands.

"Well, you're here now," you purred, tugging him closer by the waistband of his suit. "So, let's see if you're ready to be good for me... or if I need to make you beg a little more."

Peter's breath was ragged, eyes glazed with a mix of desperation and something raw that sent a thrill down your spine. He took a shaky step closer, his hands hovering awkwardly as if he was afraid to touch you without permission. You could practically feel the heat radiating off him.

"Please," he whimpered, his voice cracking. "l... I need you so bad. I couldn't focus, I-"

You placed a finger against his lips, silencing him, and watched as his eyes fluttered shut at even that slightest touch. The way he was trembling under your gaze was intoxicating, his resolve completely shattered.

"Aw, poor thing," you cooed, trailing your fingers down his jawline, feeling the way his breath hitched under your touch. "All that patrol work, and you still couldn't stop thinking about me? You just couldn't stay away, huh?"

"N-no, I couldn't," he confessed, his hips shifting forward as if he was subconsciously trying to find some kind of friction. The way his cock strained against his suit was almost pitiful. "I-I tried... but I just-God, I need you to touch me."

"Oh, baby," you teased, letting your thumb brush over his bottom lip. "You're already this worked up? I barely did anything."

Peter's eyes were practically begging now, his fingers twitching as if holding himself back from grabbing you and falling apart right then and there.

"Please," he choked out again, a desperate, broken sound that made your smirk widen.

You leaned in close, your breath ghosting over his ear. "I'm gonna make you wait, just like you made me wait," you whispered, and the whimper that tore from his throat was so needy, so wrecked, that you couldn't help but grin.

[bonelessghoul]

In the Shadows of Chains

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x femaleOC (probably feels more like a reader but I named her Julia bc typing out y/n was getting on my nerves lol)

Words: 5.5k

Warnings: def 18+ for unprotected seggs and a short and sweet smut scene, otherwise just mild descriptions of violence in the arena

Summary: Julia Valentis, the daughter of a newly appointed Senator, welcomes home her General in secret after almost a year apart. Things are different this time though and neither want their relationship to continue in secret. However, Julia suspects her father may have made other plans for her future when a certain emperor takes interest in her.

Authors note: can’t believe this is what took me out of my hiatus but here we are, in all fairness I didn’t really thoroughly edit this before deciding to post so pls be kind <3 or don’t, it’s okay. I hope you all enjoy!

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

In the heart of Rome, celebration roared under the golden light that spilled from hanging lamps. An excess of good spirits filled the air as much as it filled the goblets of the elite. The warm light and abundance of laughter reverberated off of the marble floors and the mosaics above their heads. It was more dreamy than even common folk could imagine. With the twins in power, most nights were like this.

Julia Valentis stood near the edge of the atrium, her fingers lightly tracing the rim of her goblet out of boredom.

She watched the crowd with a practiced and mastered detachment, offering polite nods to passing senators and their wives. Their gazes were not as subtle as they seemed and the same ones who watched her grow were now the same ones pressuring her father to marry her off. Since her father’s appointment, she’s been careful not to draw any attention to herself. She didn’t want her future under scrutiny as futile as that seemed.

Regardless, her focus was elsewhere as she leaned her shoulder against the cold stone of the column beside her.

Marcus Acacius, the General, stood at the center of the gathering, towering in his uniform of white and gold, surrounded by admirers eager to hear tales of his triumphs abroad. She too eagerly awaited his arrival, its anticipation creating a knot in her stomach all day. But even now, as she watched from afar, she knew she could not have him under the eyes of her father and his fellow Senators.

Instead, she watched as his eyes drifted around through conversation until they found hers.

It was only a glance, but it was enough.

Even after several months without his presence in the city, the soft eyes from across the room reeled her in as it did the day he left. The corner of his mouth lifted in the barest hint of a smile, a gesture meant only for her as though it may seem it was for whoever he was speaking to.

Julia felt her heart quicken, warmth blooming in her chest every time. She looked away quickly, playing oblivious.

They hadn’t seen each other in nearly a year, not since the night before his departure. She had wished him well in the shadows of her father’s garden, her fingers grazing his face as she whispered her fears for his safety. Now, he was back, and though he stood surrounded by Rome’s most powerful and most lustful, the weight of his gaze made her feel as though they were alone.

As the night wore on, Julia carefully wove her way through the crowd, her movements deliberate and unhurried.

Occasionally, she was pulled into polite conversation in regards to her future. But she was able to escape as fast as they caught her. Marcus did the same, stepping away from his admirers under the guise of needing a moment to breathe.

The gardens that stretched out from the villa signified the day they first met.

Even though she could not see him, Julia followed the musk of flowers and herbs under the moonlight and remnants of light from the party. She was met with a gentle breeze that made it intoxicating, between the chase and the richness of the gardens. Her robes of varying shades of blues were a thin veil between the air and the goosebumps that rose on her skin, but she nearly blended in with the night—it’s what made it so easy to sneak up on Marcus.

In the furthest corner of the garden away from prying eyes, only Julia was capable of sneaking upon the General and without a moments hesitation she pounced and wrapped her arms around his shoulder with a small leap.

“You have to be more careful, General. Someone could hurt you out here.”

Under his armor that she could barely wrap her arm around, she felt him tense but he turned, meeting her embrace and despite being startled, his eyes softened quickly at the sight of her.

“You’re here,” he murmured, his voice raw, a smile creeping upon his face.

One strong arm wrapped around her, pulling her close against his large frame and the other cupping her face. The moonlight caressed every inch of her skin, a white sparkle to her eyes that looked up at him adoringly as they began to prick with tears. Marcus himself looked to be in disbelief that she was even here, the mere thought of her leaving crumbling him in that moment.

“Of course I’m here,” she replied, her own voice trembling with emotion. “How could I not be?”

He kissed her then, a desperate, searching kiss that spoke of a year’s worth of longing and unspoken words. She melted into him, her arms wrapping around his neck as if to anchor him down to her. They melded together, shadows dancing across their features like they would slip away into the darkness itself.

When they finally broke apart, Marcus rested his forehead against hers, his breath uneven. “I thought of you every day,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Her hand slid down his arm, her fingers brushing the cool metal of his bracer.

“And I thought of you,” she said softly. “Every day, I prayed for your safe return.”

For a moment, there was only silence, the kind that carried the weight of everything they couldn’t say. The tears that pricked her eyes had snuck through, and she thought of every night she cried when she missed him most. But as she looked into his eyes, she saw something else—a shadow, a burden he hadn’t carried before. Suddenly, her childish tears felt small.

“Marcus,” she said, her tone shifting, “what is it? What happened?”

He turned away, his jaw tightening. “I did what was required of me. What the Emperor demanded. Now I am home.”

Her hand found his, and she squeezed it gently. Since they first found each other in this very space, it was no secret that the honor he carried had a heavier weight behind it.

She cupped his face to keep his eyes on hers.

“The cost is feeling greater, is it not?”

His shoulders sagged, the proud soldier’s facade cracking as his own hands wrapped her wrists.

“Villages burned, families torn apart. It’s what they call victory, but it feels like—” He stopped, unable to finish the thought.

Julia stepped closer, if that was even possible.

“You carry the weight of the Empire on your shoulders, Marcus. But that weight doesn’t define who you are. You cannot let this guilt break you down.”

He looked at her, his expression a mixture of gratitude and anguish. “And what am I, Julia? A weapon in service of men who care only for power?”

“You are more than that,” she insisted, her voice firm. “You are kind. You are brave. And you are mine, if only in moments like these.”

Her words broke through the darkness in his eyes, and for a brief moment, he allowed himself to believe them. He pulled her into his arms, holding her as though she might vanish.

“And you, my love are that and more.” Marcus said with a heavy exhale. “I’ve missed your voice, even your small hands trying to subdue me.”

Julia chuckled, her cheek rested on his chest. No matter how garnished with his valor, she felt his heart thumping beneath her ear and her soul was at peace, her own heart beating with his once again.

“These hands can do a lot more than attack you in a garden.”

But the sound of voices from the atrium reminded them of reality. Marcus pulled back reluctantly, his hand brushing a stray curl from her face.

“We can’t stay,” he said, his voice heavy with regret.

“No,” she agreed, though her heart ached to remain in his embrace. “But we’ll have this.”

He nodded, his lips brushing her forehead before he stepped away, disappearing into the shadows of the garden. Julia remained for a moment longer, her hands trembling as she steeled herself to return to the party.

When she finally reentered the atrium, her gaze found Marcus again. He stood among the crowd, his expression unreadable, but when their eyes met, she saw the truth; the way his smile didn’t quite meet his eyes as he endured the words of praise.

No matter what happened, they would always find each other and she had to take comfort in that if nothing else at all.

~

The early light of dawn crept into the house of the General, tapping upon Julia’s eyelids as the sky grew the slightest bit brighter and she awoke with a sharp inhale. Her head turned and even as she registered the soft silk sheets she lie in, she still had to make sure Marcus was beside her. To no surprise, he lay there on his back, head slack as it faced her and her heart thrummed at the softness in his expression as his chest slowly rose and fell.

She wondered when he had last slept like this; certainly before he departed in the first place. A soft and tired smile made its way upon her lips and she shuffled herself closer, careful not to wake him as her hand rested upon his chest.

Julia dreamt of moments like these while he was gone. Even while her father tried his hardest to make her into a suitable wife for others, she never stopped thinking of him. She wondered if her father new that, but since his new role as a senator, the hope for freedom in choice was dwindling. His newfound sense of influence had reached its claws into her own life now.

Deep in thought, her eyes had shut again but she felt her General stir beneath her hand and before she knew it, his body enveloped her and pulled her closer to the warmth he emanated.

“I must be dreaming.” Marcus said, voice still raspy from slumber.

A smile crept on her face as she looked up at him, lips pressing against the stubble on his jawline. She felt his muscles pull into a grin and then his face angled down towards hers to meet her lips. Their fullness pushed against hers as his hand slid from her back to her bottom. In the tangle of the cool sheets he lifted her leg over his hip and her entire core tensed.

“It’s not a dream, my love. Nor was the night before.” Julia said breathlessly between kisses.

Even as the cool morning air gusted through the room, the heat that rose in her chest was undeniably creeping up to her cheeks as they lazily kissed each other and pulled each other closer.

“Marcus,” Julia whispered, her breath itching as his fingers slid down to the lips between her legs.

He hummed against her neck where his lips caressed the most sensitive of spots where her pulse met the curve of her shoulder. Her nails dug into his shoulder blade, the other in his hair, and as his fingers slipped inside her entire body arched into him. A small gasp escaped her lips.

“Yes?” he asked slyly, lips finding her own again.

Marcus guided his body atop hers, her back flat across the sheets and fingers still gliding in and out of her. He deepened his motions, a soft moan reverberating through her chest as he retreated them momentarily. The pleasure came in small waves at first.

“Marcus.” Julia whined, her voice firmer now as she looked at the cunning glare to his eyes. But it was then that she realized how his hair sat in different directions from his sleep, and she couldn’t resist her giggle as she looked up at it.

“You mock me? When I have you at my finger tips?”

She gasped with a faux sense of betrayal, watching as him and his hair a mess from bed creeped down her abdomen.

“My love, I would never mock you.” Julia grinned. “Please forgive me— and put your fingers back where they were.”

He looked up at her through his brows, kisses trailing down her abdomen, sending trills of flutters through her spine with every touch. Her head dipped back as she inched her hips closer to him, but his lips did not quite find her core just yet. Instead, they trailed around her thighs, firmly pressing against the space between her thigh and the one spot that yearned for his touch.

“Please, Marcus.” Julia moaned, fingers clawing through his hair.

But his arms wrapped around her thighs, one hand creeping up to her breast and the other finger taunting the wetness that seeped from her, he didn’t budge. He resisted the gentle pull you made in his dark, graying locks of hair.

“Please, what carissima?” He asked, his breath hot against you as his lips neared closer to your throbbing core.

She grinned, chuckling menacingly and interrupting herself with a soft gasp as his fingers played with the folds, nearing dangerously closer to the inside and creating a painful throb to her muscles. The waves of pleasure grew larger, lulling against her soul.

“Must you make me beg? After so long away from you?” Julia groaned, her breasts tender from his movement and pulling her closer.

“I want to know if you still lust for me after my time away.”

“I did. Last night.” She answered in a huff, moaning as lips grew closer to her clit.

“I want to hear it again.” he said, tongue creeping out to where his fingers play.

She felt drenched at his command, her body inching closer and hands wrapped around his hair and his wrist, clutching it so hard it would leave a mark.

“You are such a brute, Marcus.” Julia cried. “Fuck me like I haven’t seen you in a year.” she said with annoyance.

If she could slap him she would, when she felt the grin of his lips against her thigh. But he didn’t fail to deliver to her begging and as his warm tongue met her folds his fingers slipped in as well, and Julia cried out. Her entire will bent at his mouth this very second, the heat rising in her chest as the muscles of her core tightened. In this moment, not a worry outside these walls existed as she grew closer to her climax, the smallest beads of sweat creeping at her temple.

Every stroke of his tongue, every movement of his fingers, was deliberate. He knew her body as well as he knew the battlefield, and he was determined to conquer her completely. Julia’s cries filled the room, her fingers gripping the sheets as her release washed over her like a tidal wave.

“Marcus,” Julia said breathlessly. “Don’t finish me just yet.”

He looked up at her, eyes adoringly lifting as he caught his breath. His fingers still glided through her folds, pushing deeper still, as he looked at her and it was as beautiful as the murals painted in their most prestigious buildings. He was carved from her and in this moment melded into her with every thrust into her.

“Oh, I have no intentions of finishing you here.” Marcus said, pushing himself up on his arms, the muscles gleaming in the early morning light that just barely pierced his windows.

There was a faint disappointment of the feeling at her core dissipating but she was eager for him to truly be inside of her.

He crept up so his face was above hers, her lips slightly parted in the awe at his beauty and the dominance that he bestowed upon her. She felt his cock slowly push up against her, the wetness guiding him in with ease. She moaned, looking into his eyes as dark as the night itself, watching his brows furrow as he pushed himself inside of her.

“You call for me, carrisima.” he said arrogantly, slowly pushing himself in.

“No, you call for me.” Julia said through breaths, pitch high as she wrapped her arms around his back.

He thrust into her, forearm up against the sideline of her head while the other hand became entangled in her hair. Their eyes never left each other and Julia felt alive with every thrust, knowing he was home and he was here once again no matter the secrecy. Nothing could undermine the love she felt for him as especially now as his body towered hers.

“I do call for you.” he grunted, hand pulling at her hair and arching her neck. “Every night I was gone; I counted the days until you were mine again.”

His pace quickened as did her heart beat, a whimper escaping her lips when he came down upon her, burying his face in her neck as he thrust into her. The sweat and the sweet kisses shared between them were not enough, and her legs wrapped around him to pull him in.

She pulled him in, pulling in the feeling of her core tightening with every cry she made upon his neck.

“Oh, Marcus…” Julia breathed. “I’m so close.”

“I know.” he rasped, withdrawing ever so slightly just to see her face. “I know.”

Her walls tightened around him and her legs began to quake, her climax nearing as his cock pushed against her boundaries. She called his name and his lips found hers, the moans passing through the General’s lips reverberating against her own as the climax poured out over him and his poured into her. Her legs relaxed and his body slumped over her, their breaths catching and the silence that filled the room now lingering over them.

“I love you, Julia.” Marcus exhaled, finally pulling his cock from her stiff muscles, leaving behind the warmth that still lingered in her amongst her own.

“And I love you, Marcus.” she smiled, looking at him as the earliest sunlight created a halo around his head.

Her heart ached with the knowledge that this moment, stolen from the chaos of their lives, could not last. Even as they remained tangled in the sheets of his chambers, faces flushed and hearts racing, Julia ran through a list of all the things she had to face once she left his room.

Marcus’s brown eyes softened, a sight not often seen from the hardened General.

“I know that look. What troubles you?” he asked, hand stroking her cheek as she lay her head on his chest.

“It pains me to leave you.”

Marcus kissed her forehead, a simple gesture that made her wish to be confined to this bed forever. But his silence at her confession only made her more wary now and she raised her body to look down on him. It was then that she could sense his own mind deep in thought by the way his eyes averted hers.

“And what troubles you?” Julia asked firmly, leaning her arms on his chest as he held her close.

“Too much for you to bear, my love.” Marcus sighed.

Her brows furrowed, and she scoffed. “I may not be a solider in your army but I am tougher than I look. You know that.”

The way his eyes seemed to find the ceiling and a weight settled on his shoulders, Julia could sense his wavering certainty and it created a sense of doubt within her own mind. Was he going to tell her they couldn’t do this anymore? Had he found someone else abroad? She remained as stoic as stone as her heart started to tear itself apart on mere hypotheticals.

“Have you considered…”Marcus began, “telling your father? His initial disapproval I feel may be changed now.”

Her head tilted, the words not registering at first.

“About us?”

Marcus’s eyes finally met hers and now, she was stumped as he was. It wasn’t a horrible idea upon his return, knowing the twins have offered him much praise in his honor even if it meant little to them. Things were more different than they were at the beginning of their fleeting romance and the prospect of making it real was unfathomable.

She never considered it a real possibility before. She had the luxury of avoiding the reality of her life; the reality of having to marry, the reality of her father as a senator, and more. Her life had been only recently been measured in these moments with Marcus and she never once considered any implications beyond it.

“You would truly want that? My life and yours, bound together even with your coming and going?”

Marcus looked at her like she had struck him. It took her by surprise and even she was surprised, the words not feeling real as they even passed from his lips.

“How could you think I wouldn’t want the rest of my life to be spent with yours?” he asked.

Tears pricked Julia’s eyes and she laughed. A misconceived emotion for the moment she tried to refrain but she laughed again as the tears blurred her vision. They were all stemmed from a joy that blossomed from her chest, one that became overwhelming as she rested her chin on his chest. Her entire body tensed at the thought of an average life with him and the dreams became a momentary reality.

“I will talk to him after the games today.” Julia said, exasperated by the mere thought.

Marcus stroked her hair off her face as she looked up at him. Their bliss was temporary now, but Julia could only dream of a time where it wasn’t—where it could be every day. The love she felt under his gaze was as warm as the sun, and she would risk everything to stay in bask in it longer. But the morning was creeping in and as was the time she was meant to be home. Her cover could only be hid by so many shadows

She dressed quietly, leaving him a dozen more stolen kisses before slipping into the still-silent villa.

~

The city was stirring by the time she arrived home. Her father was already preparing for the day’s events, servants bustling around him as they made ready for the games.

Julia moved through her morning routine with the ease of someone accustomed to suppressing her emotions, though her mind remained on Marcus—on his touch, his words, the way he had held her as though she were the only thing tethering him to the world. All she could think of was this evening when she could ask her father about the idea of marrying the General. In these times they had to tread carefully with matters such as this and even still, the question was hanging on the tip of her tongue the entire day.

By the time she and her father arrived at the arena, the seats were already filling with Rome’s finest and she was dressed the most beautifully among them. Since becoming Senator, her father has afforded not just staff by those who had become close friends to Julia. Today, he commanded they make her look fit for a princess; it made her wonder if he already knew what she planned to ask today.

The roar of the crowd, eager for blood and glory, echoed across the massive amphitheater. Julia took her place near her father among the other Senators, her seat positioned to reflect her family’s status without drawing undue attention. Across the way, Marcus stood among the other honored soldiers, his crimson cloak catching the sunlight. She could feel him enter the arena without so much as looking his way, but when she did, she found him.

Their eyes met briefly, a fleeting moment that sent warmth through her despite the cold marble beneath her. She offered him a subtle smile—small enough to avoid suspicion but enough for him to see. Marcus’ gaze lingered, his tension visible even from a distance. Flashbacks of their morning and the prior night flashed through her eyes, a ripple running through her at the thought.

It was then that Julia noticed another gaze lingering on her: the piercing, calculating eyes of Geta.

The Emperor’s reclined lazily in their seats, a goblet of wine in hand. His smile was sharp and humorless as he studied her, almost mocking, as though she were another prize to be won in the games below. Julia forced herself to look away, her stomach twisting with unease.

“Lady Julia,” Geta’s voice rang out, cutting through the noise of the crowd.

She was not so easily deflecting.

His tone was pleasant, almost disarming, but there was a cruelty in his eyes that made her blood run cold. A hungry look to them that made her feel exposed.

“Would you do us the honor of presenting the laurel to our champion today?”

The part of the arena of which she sat in fell quiet, every eye turning toward her. Even her father seemed caught off guard, his expression carefully neutral as he inclined his head toward her.

“I would be honored.” Julia choked out, her tone perfectly unfazed.

The pale boy smirked grossly. “Then perhaps you would not mind the view of the games from here instead.”

Julia felt herself pale to the sickly color of him and his brother.

“Go, my dear. It is a great honor.”

It wasn’t so much as an honor as much it was that she didn’t have a choice.

Julia rose slowly, her heart pounding.

The honor of this was true among her new social circle, but anyone who had the slightest ounce of the twins and their antics would not be so easily calmed as a random subject of their amusement.

She felt Marcus’ gaze on her, sharp and protective, but she dared not look his way. Instead, she focused on keeping her steps measured and her expression serene as she ascended the steps to where royalty sat.

His brother, Caracalla laughed maniacally at her arrival and the small monkey upon his shoulder cried to her at the same pitch that made her jump just a little. She bowed to the Emperor’s and she was startled to see Geta’s hand reach out. Politely, she took it as he guided her to a chair brought out for her besides Lucilla who only cast her a warm smile that disappeared as quickly as it flashed upon her face.

Julia’s stomach was spun into knots, so much so it kept her voice trapped deep within as she took a seat. Up above, Marcus sat and she briefly made eye contact with him before turning back to face the fight.

She bore witness to the cruel remarks of the brothers as the fights ensued down below. They offered her a goblet of wine which she gracefully took if it meant she could endure this better.

The crowd roared as the gladiators fought below, their cheers echoing against the massive stone walls of the Colosseum. Julia sat uncomfortably beside Emperor Geta, her back straight and her hands clenched tightly in her lap. The tension in the emperor’s private box was palpable, even as those around them laughed and clapped.

“Do you see that, Lady Julia?” Geta leaned closer, his voice carrying enough volume for others to hear. He gestured toward the arena, where a battered gladiator struggled to stand against his opponent. “He’s weak but refuses to give up. Admirable, isn’t it?”

Julia forced a tight smile, nodding. “Yes, Emperor.”

Geta smirked, clearly unsatisfied with her lackluster response. “Admirable indeed. But tell me, what would you do if you were in his position?” His tone was sharp, a challenge disguised as a casual question.

Julia’s cheeks flushed as the crowd’s attention turned toward her. She could feel Marcus’s eyes on her from where he stood nearby, tension radiating from him.

“Come now, girl,” Geta pressed, his smirk deepening. “You are not shy, are you? Speak up.”

Caracalla chuckled beside her, leaving her more uneasy than she wished.

Julia hesitated, searching for an answer that would satisfy him without betraying her growing discomfort.

“I suppose I would fight until I could no longer stand, as any Roman would.”

Geta laughed loudly, the sound grating. “A brave sentiment from someone who has never lifted a sword.”

And have you lifted a sword in such context, Emperor?

All she could think about was Marcus, a true warrior and honorable man. Perhaps her underlying disdain for the twins was that she witnessed the way they treated him so carelessly. They used him as a weapon of their own and she hated them for it.

The courtiers around them chuckled nervously, but Marcus’s jaw tightened. He watched the emperor’s gaze linger on Julia, the thinly veiled malice in his tone disguised as jest.

“Perhaps,” Geta continued, leaning back in his chair, “we should test that resolve. What do you think, Marcus?” He turned his piercing eyes toward the soldier.

Marcus stiffened but kept his expression neutral. “I think she has answered you wisely, Emperor.”

“Ah, ever the diplomat,” Geta mused, his smirk returning. “But I was hoping for more entertainment. Shall we?”

“Let the tigers out! Rip them limb from limb!” Caracalla cried out.

Julia’s stomach twisted as Geta gestured for one of his attendants, whispering something. Moments later, a young, unarmed slave was ushered into the arena. The crowd fell silent in confusion as a hulking gladiator approached the trembling boy.

“Watch carefully, Julia,” Geta said, his voice dripping with mockery. “This boy is in a position not unlike the one you imagined. Let’s see if he has your resolve.”

Marcus shifted closer to Julia, even as he sat a row behind her she could feel his presence looming in comfort. She flinched at the sight below but forced herself to keep her composure, even as her heart screamed in protest.

As the fight began, Julia clenched her fists, her nails biting into her palms.

She didn’t look at Geta, but she could feel his gaze on her, drinking in her discomfort like fine wine. Marcus, meanwhile, was seething quietly, his thoughts a storm of anger and helplessness.

Julia didn’t need to look at him to know he hated this as much as she did. For what reason did she need to be singled out today! Her mind couldn’t wrap her head around it; how she became the source of entertainment for the brothers.

A gladiator, bloodied and triumphant, awaited her at the center. Her mind had gone numb to the bloodshed of the slain down below, not even realizing there was a victor now.

Julia took the laurel crown from an attendant, her hands steady despite the weight of the moment. The crowd cheered as she placed the crown on the gladiator’s head, her voice clear as she proclaimed him victorious.

But when she turned to leave, Geta spoke again, his hand raised to stop her in her steps.

“Stay a moment, Lady Julia,” he said, his tone dripping with mockery as his cold fingers lifted her chin. “Let the people see the face of Roman virtue.”

The crowd roared its approval, and Julia felt the heat of humiliation creep up her neck. She stood still, her posture perfect, her expression composed. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her falter.

From his place among the honored guests, Marcus gripped the arms of his chair, his knuckles white. He was a soldier, trained to remain composed, but every instinct in him screamed to intervene. He knew Geta’s game—the prince was testing her, asserting his dominance in a way that only he could get away with.

Julia endured it, the minutes stretching into what felt like hours before Geta finally waved his hand dismissively. She returned to her seat with her head held high, though her heart raced with the effort of maintaining her composure.

When she finally sat down, she allowed herself a brief glance toward Marcus. His expression was stormy, his jaw tight, but when their eyes met, his gaze softened. In that moment, she knew he saw her strength, and it was enough to soothe the lingering ache of Geta’s scrutiny.

The arena emptied and she reluctantly slipped away under the guise of her father, walking among the Senators and their daughters who she blended in with ease. Her heart was racing, pumping blood to her ears so that she could not hear a word outside of the ringing it brought.

Perhaps her dream, the one her and Marcus shared merely this morning, would have to be delayed.

As Julia followed in the trail of the Emperor’s circle, a hand brushed by her own.

She nearly jolted away from the touch, suspicious of the twins and if one of them had lingered behind, but much to her relief, she briefly glanced over to see Marcus.

She didn’t have to fully turn her head to recognize his armor, the way he stood tall over her and the slightest grays to his dark head of hair. Even if unnoticed by others, the simple brush of his hard knuckles across her own was enough to keep her worst fears at bay and know that he was close.

Whatever the Emperor had planned, she was determined to tell her father tonight where her heart truly lied.

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

Please let me know if this sucks or not thank you <3

[stardustedknuckles]

My roommate's girlfriend (buzzed) and my roommate (blitzed) woke up to cats yowling in the alley last night right around the time I got home, and in a convincing display of her assertion that it's not CERTAIN we're getting a new cat soon (we are) my roommate asked if I wanted to go outside (it was midnight) and help them catch the one that seemed like maybe it was new to being outside. So I grabbed the carrier I've kept by the door in case our last project (Pete the tuxedo) came back (chewed a hole in the window screen and ran) and followed my roommate outside where her gf was lying on the ground with a tin of wet food trying to coax the cat from under the dumpster (nowhere near garbage day) and meowing (comfortingly?).

We ended up walk-chasing the cat down the street and Carolyn (roommate) actually got hands on her at one point, but the cat escaped (she didn't remember to zip the top of the carrier after she put the cat in) (this was when I realized she was drunk af and not just sleepy) so we spent another 20 minutes crawling around with phone flashlights on (still midnight) and eventually had to give up.

As we were walking back to the apartment (half a block away) I rolled a high enough perception check (permanent disadvantage due to adhd) to see that there was a man sitting nearly motionless in his SUV with all the lights off, lit only by the blue glow of his dash controls.

I said (quietly) "there's a whole-ass man who's been sitting in his car right here this entire time."

The other two (limbs a drunk and sweaty pretzel) processed this for a moment and giggled together. "oh well," said Julia (the toothpick keeping this thing together). "this is Chicago. He's seen weirder."

"oh for sure," I said, picking off leaf litter stuck to my elbow (humid). "I mean I feel like three lesbians chasing pussy at midnight is pretty normal around here anyway."

A (drunk) pause, then laughter so loud that something streaked from the bushes (cat) bolted across the road, and disappeared under a fence (welp).

[fiirecracker]

oh, he's one of those medics.

she respects it, really. julia is not the type to sit around and look after people, as much as she may want to. as much as she cares. there is always something must be doing; always something that needs defending, or protecting. she was not made to heal, though she greatly respects those who can. who do.

"no, no! no need for regrets. you were here, und that is what matters!" pushing herself into a seated position, julia offers the other solar risen a smile. light pulses beneath her skin, shimmering. "a lot of people are not here, so you are doing far better than them."

she tucks her elbows onto her knees. her eyes squint with warmth, "i am good! you have done me a big favor, und i appreciate it! i'm julia, by the way. jules, if you're feelin' particularly friendly."

atticus nods in response as soon as she regains full awareness. others would perhaps laugh it off, but atticus is not others. he remains deadpan.

" no thanks are necessary, i was only doing what any in my position would. " which is partially true. he knows how many are out there who would simply ignore another guardian's plight. he's been on the receiving end more times than he would care.

but there are those like him as well — willing to help any way they can.

" i would imagine it hurt. my only regret is not being here sooner otherwise you would have gotten assistance instead of shot. " just because they're immortal that doesn't mean pain is less real. if not mitigated it can certainly lead to clouded judgments and mistakes.

" do you require any more aid? "

[sammy-deserves-better]

Hey people who definitely didn’t follow me for my AUs here’s another AU I thought up on the spot!!!

Fantasy/Royalty AU bam lets get into it

Julia and Bowie are the princess and prince of the kingdom, as you do, it’s gay and lesbian hostility in that castle every day

Axel, Wayne, Raj and Emma are knights with Axel being the head of the knights, Emma is also secretly a florist because why not

Priya is the head of the guards while Caleb is the personal guard/advisor to the king

Chase is a travelling bard who loves to talk about his ‘amazing’ adventures of ‘helping’ people

Nichelle is still a famous actress but instead of movies she’s like, famous from plays and all that jazz

Ripper’s a barbarian that’s pretty good at his job, unfortunately he is not taken very seriously

Millie is a famous writer but she’s so damn difficult to find at times and only a few people know where she actually lives

Damien is a wizard’s apprentice, he’s still learning but he’s got some real talent within him

Zee is the court jester, he didn’t even like try out for the role he just started talking one time and the king thought he was hilarious

Scary Girl is a famous necromancer because she is, funnily enough, scarily good at her job

And MK, silly ol’ MK, is a master thief who is wanted all over the world, but can never be located, always managing to escape at the last moment

Alright here’s some more details yippee

Raj and Bowie are like, in love, obviously, knight x prince romance! Forbidden love that isn’t really forbidden but like it’s super cute and Raj is so smitten and Bowie just loves this handsome knight that would do anything for him

Wayne and Emma are friends here because I also think they’re silly, Wayne’s the only one who knows Emma’s secret florist job because she trusts him enough and also he accidentally found out but it’s fine!! But he also nearly gives away Emma’s secret so many damn times because he’s just a little bit stupid

‘Man I wish I could get Bowie a nice bouquet…’

‘Oh well Emma is actually a fl-‘

And then Wayne gets elbowed so hard he can’t breath for 2 minutes

Emma also definitely has a thing for the cute court jester but she has no idea on how to actually approach Zee so she just sends him flowers anonymously and sighs while looking at him lovingly

Julia and MK meet because MK climbs up the damn castle walls at 2am and sneaks into Julia’s room just to rob her, gets absolutely slammed by the princess, wakes up and is tied to a damn chair with Julia right up in her face about to rip her to shreds and all MK can say is ‘you are REALLY attractive oh my gods’

This throws Julia off, they start talking, Julia realises that despite the fact she is holding one of the most wanted criminals hostage in her room, she wants to keep seeing MK because she’s entertaining and mean and just slightly pathetic, so she lets MK go on the promise that the thief will come back every night and so she does and yadda yadda lesbians toxic yuri wins

Millie’s stories actually come to life because shocker she’s actually a wizard in disguise and she needs to be really careful about what she writes so that’s why she hides herself away and is so hard to track down because if the wrong people knew about her magic capabilities oh no that’s a lot of blood and injury and angst and 10k words every chapter

Millie’s parents also had this ability to create anything from mere writing, they shared this ability with the kingdom, and so if an important figure asked them to say…make a protector of the kingdom, they would do so, and they did, and that’s where our villain/antagonist comes in but that’s a story for another day

The older gens are also involved in this one way or another as well, most are just backgrounders but some hold important to the story

Damien is the wizard apprentice to Leonard and Tammy, two great and powerful sages who spend their time helping the world

DJ is the one who taught Emma how to be a florist, he’s kind and understanding and always helps Emma choose the right flowers to give to Zee

Eva trains Ripper under her watchful eye, she’s proud of how far he’s come, but feels he can do just a bit more

Aleheather are the king and queen of the kingdom, Bowie and Julia are their adopted children

And that’s all I got for now uhhhh add whatever you want to this it’s just a silly time

[ausetkmt]

Her name was Julia Chinn, and her role in Richard Mentor Johnson’s life caused a furor when the Kentucky Democrat was chosen as Martin Van Buren’s running mate in 1836.

She was born enslaved and remained that way her entire life, even after she became Richard Mentor Johnson’s “bride.”

Johnson, a Kentucky congressman who eventually became the nation’s ninth vice president in 1837, couldn’t legally marry Julia Chinn. Instead the couple exchanged vows at a local church with a wedding celebration organized by the enslaved people at his family’s plantation in Great Crossing, according to Miriam Biskin, who wrote about Chinn decades ago.

Chinn died nearly four years before Johnson took office. But because of controversy over her, Johnson is the only vice president in American history who failed to receive enough electoral votes to be elected. The Senate voted him into office.

The couple’s story is complicated and fraught, historians say. As an enslaved woman, Chinn could not consent to a relationship, and there’s no record of how she regarded him. Though she wrote to Johnson during his lengthy absences from Kentucky, the letters didn’t survive.

Amrita Chakrabarti Myers, who is working on a book about Chinn, wrote about the hurdles in a blog post for the Association of Black Women Historians.

“While doing my research, I was struck by how Julia had been erased from the history books,” wrote Myers, a history professor at Indiana University. “Nobody knew who she was. The truth is that Julia (and Richard) are both victims of legacies of enslavement, interracial sex, and silence around black women’s histories.”

Johnson’s life is far better documented.

He was elected as a Democrat to the state legislature in 1802 and to Congress in 1806. The folksy, handsome Kentuckian gained a reputation as a champion of the common man.

Back home in Great Crossing, he fathered a child with a local seamstress, but didn’t marry her when his parents objected, according to the biography “The Life and Times of Colonel Richard M. Johnson of Kentucky.” Then, in about 1811, Johnson, 31, turned to Chinn, 21, who had been enslaved at Blue Spring Plantation since childhood.

Johnson called Chinn “my bride.” His “great pleasure was to sit by the fireplace and listen to Julia as she played on the pianoforte,” Biskin wrote in her account.

The couple soon had two daughters, Imogene and Adaline. Johnson gave his daughters his last name and openly raised them as his children.

Johnson became a national hero during the War of 1812. At the Battle of the Thames in Canada, he led a horseback attack on the British and their Native American allies. He was shot five times but kept fighting. During the battle, the Shawnee chief Tecumseh was killed.

In 1819, “Colonel Dick” was elected to the U.S. Senate. When he was away in Washington for long periods, he left Chinn in charge of the 2,000-acre plantation and told his White employees that they should “act with the same propriety as if I were home.”

Chinn’s status was unique.

While enslaved women wore simple cotton dresses, Chinn’s wardrobe “included fancy dresses that turned heads when Richard hosted parties,” Christina Snyder wrote in her book “Great Crossings: Indians, Settlers & Slaves in the Age of Jackson.”

In 1825, Chinn and Johnson hosted the Marquis de Lafayette during his return to America.

In the mid-1820s, Johnson opened on his plantation the Choctaw Academy, a federally funded boarding school for Native Americans. He hired a local Baptist minister as director. Chinn ran the academy’s medical ward.

“Julia is as good as one half the physicians, where the complaint is not dangerous,” Johnson wrote in a letter. He paid the academy’s director extra to educate their daughters “for a future as free women.”

Johnson tried to advance his daughters in local society, and both would later marry White men. But when he spoke at a local July Fourth celebration, the Lexington Observer reported, prominent White citizens wouldn’t let Adaline sit with them in the pavilion. Johnson sent his daughter to his carriage, rushed through his speech and then angrily drove away.

When Johnson’s father died, he willed ownership of Chinn to his son. He never freed his common-law wife.

“Whatever power Chinn had was dependent on the will and the whims of a White man who legally owned her,” Snyder wrote.

Then, in 1833, Chinn died of cholera. It’s unclear where she is buried.

Johnson went on to even greater national prominence.

In 1836, President Andrew Jackson backed Vice President Martin Van Buren as his successor. At Jackson’s urging, Van Buren — a fancy dresser who had never fought in war — picked war hero Johnson as his running mate. Nobody knew how the Shawnees’ chief was slain in the War of 1812, but Johnson’s campaign slogan was, “Rumpsey, Dumpsey. Johnson Killed Tecumseh.”

Johnson’s relationship with Chinn became a campaign issue. Southern newspapers denounced him as “the great Amalgamationist.” A mocking cartoon showed a distraught Johnson with a hand over his face bewailing “the scurrilous attacks on the Mother of my Children.”

This political cartoon was a racist attack on Johnson because of his relationship with Julia Chinn. (Library of Congress)

Van Buren won the election, but Johnson’s 147 electoral votes were one short of what he needed to be elected. Virginia’s electors refused to vote for him. It was the only time Congress chose a vice president.

When Van Buren ran for reelection in 1840, Democrats declined to nominate Johnson at their Baltimore convention. It is the only time a party didn’t pick any vice-presidential candidate. The spelling-challenged Jackson warned that Johnson would be a “dead wait” on the ticket.

“Old Dick” still ended up being the leading choice and campaigned around the country wearing his trademark red vest. But Van Buren lost to Johnson’s former commanding officer, Gen. William Henry Harrison.

Johnson never remarried, but he reportedly had sexual relationships with other enslaved women who couldn’t consent to them.

The former vice president won a final election to the Kentucky legislature in 1850, but died a short time later at the age of 70.

His brothers laid claim to his estate at the expense of his surviving daughter, Imogene, who was married to a White man named Daniel Pence.

“At some point in the early twentieth century,” Myers wrote, “perhaps because of heightened fears of racism during the Jim Crow era, members of Imogene Johnson Pence’s line, already living as white people, chose to stop telling their children that they were descended from Richard Mentor Johnson … and his black wife. It wasn’t until the late 20th century that younger Pences, by then already in their 40s, 50s, and 60s, began discovering the truth of their heritage.”

[aleisters]

i feel like it's been a year of fits and starts for house of black, as trios, as tags, as singles wrestlers, even. julia's been out with injury. we've had some feuds start and stop with the house. we had, briefly, the starts of some feuds that never materialised - didn't the righteous want to fight them? that didn't happen, did it?

then we had nearly a month solid of house of black on television - primarily malakai and buddy - and now we've had brody on tv every week with the continential classic. now we've had julia doing vingettes and promos and an appearance and we have a return set for her. it's pretty good. but man, it doesn't feel like enough.

the only thing i want in 2025 out of wrestling, more than anything else, is for the house of black to be a consistent threat, to be involved on a high level because they - all four - are so, so talented. they've developed themselves around to being incredibly interesting almost-faces, and the crowd is always behind them, so for christmas can i get aew doing something about it?

[enoughyi]

#12: Among the Blooms

Ship: Imelda Reyes x Poppy Sweeting (x f!MC (Julia Wright))

Summary: The hills, the Sun, and Imelda's shy eyes whenever Poppy steals a kiss from her.

Prompt Number: 66. Staring At The Other’s Lips, Trying Not To Kiss Them, Before Giving In. [>>>link to the list]

Word count: 447. Rating: G-T.

A/N: It's brainrot-powered. Characters are in their 20's.

THIS and THIS.

Tags: @phinik and @myokk because you are responsible for my deth. @infernalrusalka @celestial--sapphic @espressoristretto-patronum

Read on AO3:

Rocky hills of Wales turned a bloom came spring and sprung air with sweet odours of newly grown swards, quickly an ever-presence to the nose still used to scentless crisp of the winter's cold. Scotland could never compare to Wales albeit its strong breath of the soil was a miss.

Neither could gift a weather stasis of Room of Requirement's mellow, homely retreats. But in none of them were winds, or weak gust of sea breeze, or changed angle of its bright yet lifeless sun. Asking Julia or her house elf companion, Deek, wasn't an option; not when the ever-lasting summer of the forest biome became Imelda's favourite haven to escape from rigorous training routines and last year of school, and to kiss her, to kiss them, to have them both to herself without a single interruption minus curiosity from Hazel, the unicorn inhabitant. That cosy addendum to life was a miss, certainly, too.

Life had changed. For the better, not for worse, but the sense of long in the air, stuck in it as the sun grew warmer, reeled up the memories in Imelda's head, Poppy had noticed few years ago.

It wasn't a tough observation.

Each spring, there would be a hill; critters buzzing joyfully at its slope. Imelda will never chose any in particular, but it would be in the open; and years after Poppy could recall wherever Imelda decidedly asked for a tongue snog --and proceeded with it-- with a pinpoint accuracy.

The only ask of Poppy was, "Don't lay me down on a fairy's trail."

A simple ask not to disturb little people always challenged Imelda but not enough to refuse the idea altogether and as decidedly move it to the bedroom. It just meant wherever would be a free patch of land, there will be sun at an angle so peculiar pink on Imelda's cheeks, -- usually unseen but nearly heartfelt by how warm her face would turn, -- would come to sight. Would prompt Poppy to kiss it away from her like many years ago, it playing cheerful red on her lips keeping Imelda wondering if she… if she should and when.

She became less hesitant over the years.

But was it the sun, too, to make her lip captivatingly glimmer?

Was it the smile? the adorable gesture, few fingers covering lips?

The giddy giggle?

What was anything stuck on the lips so fascinating to Imelda she couldn't look away?

She never told, but her eyes were full of shy, back then years ago and right here and there years after. Liked kissing pretty girls under the afternoon sun a tad too much and couldn't acknowledge the silliness to herself, Poppy supposed.

[jonesyjonesyjonesy]

Wildflowers (pt. xxii.ii)

a john paul jones x fem!oc fic (in progress)

summary: Julia Morgan knew nannying for three girls who had recently lost their mother would come with many challenges. But she never thought their father, the enigmatic musician John Paul Jones, would be causing her the most trouble. And while Julia is not in the business of saving broken men, her tenderness might be meant for more than little girls and wildflowers.

table of contents │ previous chapter

masterlist│ko-fi

notes: discussion of drug use, discussion of sa, general angst

a/n: it's going to get worse before it gets better 💔

pt. xxii.ii, jack-go-to-bed-at-noon

“I don't want to hurt you. But I can’t lose you, Julia, I can’t.”

I did not sleep. Why would I with a feral beast in the house?

I had no idea if John would wake again. Whether he would be stronger and more demonic than before. So I remained posted up outside the primary bedroom, almost unblinking.

That is until it was time for the girls to rouse for school. It was a miracle none of them questioned the thunderous snore of Peter Grant in the guest bedroom and even more remarkable they believed my fib that the strange car parked out front belonged to the new gardener. However, Tamara barely looked at me. At first I wondered if I had hurt her feelings by being short with her in the night, but then I overheard her whispering to Jacinda while they stood by the car waiting for me to come around.

“The ghost is back.”

It was urgent enough to cut right through the still air.

I wished I could believe in the ghost too. That the bumps in the night were angered spirits rather than their father, fecund with liquor and pills, a man they would not have recognized should they have met him.  

I should not have been driving in my sleepless state. I almost jumped the curb and nearly clipped a mailbox.

I barely remembered the drive. Just realized I left Warren House only to end up there again. It wasn’t enough that my body sagged with the hours of sleep lost. There was a hundred some pounds of weight on me too. Pinned to my hips. Gripping my thighs.

I sat in the car far longer than I would have on a normal day. Trying to keep my stomach from flipping at the memory of the night. Mere hours before.

With a final breath, a final push, I forced myself out of the car. And upstairs. To the master bedroom. To see if the monster had returned to man again.

The door was cracked when I got there. Just an inch. Caused by one of those ghostly drafts.

I ticked the door open a few inches more and peered inside.

John had made it to the bed, curled into a lump under the bountiful bedclothes. Red and cream floral. I hadn’t noticed it the night before. His hair was draped over his face, obscuring the evidence of my defense.

I watched him breathing for far too long and wished to feel what I had in the past. To fawn over him, adore him as I once had. Instead, I just felt sad, watching the covers rise and fall with his deep breaths.

I wished to crawl in with him, forget it all, laugh when he woke to gritty dried blood spattered across his face.

But I couldn’t. It might have killed me.

I pulled myself away from the door, closed it as far as I could without the latch clicking shut, and continued down the hallway. The doors to the guest rooms were now opened. And when I peeked inside, the beds were mussed. I sighed, knowing Annie would give me guff for it. Add it onto the pile. I could hack it after the night I had had.

I checked myself in the mirror once more (fatigued, but resplendently so) before heading downstairs to meet my “guests”.

“They wanted fresh air,” Annie grumbled when I entered the kitchen to grab another cup of coffee. “They requested breakfast on the terrace.” She dropped a plate of toast points onto a tray.

I whisked the tray away from her before she could pick it up. “You needn’t bother with them.”

“You needn’t either,” she said, though she made no effort to stop me.

We exchanged a resigned smile. I had given her the barest of details before the girls had come down for breakfast. That the men had shown up in the middle of the night, an emergency. Warned her John was not himself. That was all. Nothing about his outburst, the confusion, the belligerence.

I stowed the bite mark away too. There wasn’t anything gleeful about this mark as opposed to the ones Jimmy gave me. Nothing giddily perverse about it.

With the tray and my coffee, I headed out onto the terrace.

Peter spotted me first through a cloud of cigarette smoke. He looked surprisingly well-rested for a man wearing the same clothes he’d had on the night before. “Julia! Morning, love.”

“Morning, gentlemen.” I placed the tray on the table beside the tea service, glimpsing Richard and BP who were both a little worse for wear, no doubt having been forced to bunk up together.

“Oh, thank you. It’s a perfect day for a meal on the terrace, don’t you think? Fresh air and all that…” Peter went on jovially.

I hesitated to agree when the cigarette negated the fresh air.

Luckily, he didn’t bother for my answer. “Sleep well?” Peter asked with a raised eyebrow.

I snagged my coffee off the tray before saying dryly, “Like a baby.”

“Aren’t you lucky, then?” Richard grumbled.

Peter leered at Richard briefly. “We’re…uh, what he means is, thanks for handling him.”

“Handling him,” I repeated. So that’s what I had been doing.

“He just needed a feminine touch, you know? A reminder,” Peter said, snagging a piece of toast off the tray and dipping a corner straight into a glob of jam. “Of what is rather than…”

I stared hard at him, causing him to lose his train of thought.

“Sit, Julia,” Richard said. “You’re making me nervous.”

“No, I’ve duties to get to, I just wanted to make sure you were taken care of –”

“No, Julia, sit, please let’s chat,” Peter said, waving his fingers toward me.

The truth was, if I sat, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stay awake. However, a chat with Peter Grant never seemed negotiable. I took the free chair, pulling it out a foot from the table so as not to be too close to them. “I’d hate to make you feel antsy,” I echoed without affectation, though my blood was boiling.

BP stuck his tongue into the side of his cheek, keeping his mouth pressed tight together.

“I know I’ve thanked you before Julia, but really, really our boy was in a bad way before you showed up. You keep him in good spirits.”

My stomach turned. I keep him in good spirits. I couldn’t have been more foolish. Thinking any of it was love. I was something to do. A hobby. A woman’s body has been currency since the beginning of time. It was an exchange from the start. “I do what I can,” I said softly.

“And more, apparently,” Richard muttered.

I didn’t have the energy to glare. My humanity was seeping out.

“We’re hoping this will be a one time thing,” Peter went on. “We’ll keep an eye on him and what he’s…consuming. And when he’s back home, you know, you just keep doing what you’re doing.”

“I ought to be on the Zeppelin payroll at this point,” I said, watching the steam from my coffee.

“That could be arranged.”

That caught my attention. My eyes zipped to Peter.

He grinned wolfishly. “A joke, of course.”

“Of course,” I replied, unconvinced. I suddenly wondered if they kept a roster of vessels.

Peter jammed his inch of a cigarette into the ashtray and reached for another. “Between the two of us, I know we can make sure he’s in good shape for tour in January.”

The words rolled over me like storm clouds closing in. Slowly and then all at once. “Tour in January.”

“Yes, it’s not much time, but we can keep him on the straight and narrow.”

I did not have the energy to convey what I felt. Hell, I didn’t even know what I felt. Surprise. Dismay. Fury. Ache. A collision of all sorts of a terrible feelings. I glanced at BP who seemed to be the only one who could tell I didn’t know of a tour starting in January. He dipped his chin lower and looked away.

Hadn’t they just started recording the album? Surely it wasn’t enough time for them to set out in tour in a handful of months.

“Of course, we’ll have to make sure his spirits are up until then so he doesn’t get cold feet, but you do an excellent job of keeping him warm, Ms. Morgan.”

 I opened my mouth, unsure what vitriol would emerge, only to be cut off by a low and gravelly, “The hell is going on?”

John was awake and he was standing barefoot on the terrace. The lower part of his face was streaked with dried blood and there was a splotch of a stain on the collar of his nightshirt. I couldn’t look directly at him more than a moment.

“Christ what happened to your face?” Richard asked with his lips contorted in bemusement.

“What are you talking about?” John trailed off, words mushy.

Peter glanced at me, then back at John. “You’ve got blood all over your face, mate.”

John smothered his face with his hand, his coordination massively strained by his hangover. “The hell…”

BP and Richard looked at me for explanation. I shook my head. “He wasn’t like that when I left him.”

A pitiful lie.

Peter reached for his napkin and dipped it in his water glass. “C’mere, I’ll take care of it,” Peter said, almost like a mother.

My knuckles whitened as I gripped my cup of coffee.

“How did I get here?” John asked in a small voice, stepping closer to us.

Every nerve in my body stood on end, my body sensing danger. The weight returned to my middle.

Now that he was within swiping distance, Peter got up, grabbed John by the arm, and swung him down into his own chair. “Just relax and I’ll explain.”

John, still dazed, looked at me, his eyes calling for some sort of help I couldn’t give him. Peter smeared his cloth napkin across John’s face to clear off the blood. John bristled, raising his hands to bat Peter away. “I can do it.”

“You got into a state last night. A really bad one,” Peter explained. I was shocked by his softness with John. I’d seen him threatening and I’d seen him trying to charm, but I’d never seen him quite like this. Cleaning up the messes.

“It’s sore, why’s it sore?” John complained softly.

“Had to bring you home so that you’d settle down,” Peter went on. Then, satisfied with his cleaning, gave John a pat on the back. “Felt better when you saw Julia, didn’t ya? Perked right up when you saw her.”

John’s blue eyes rolled toward me again and, this time, they caught.

And I remembered

Tour in January.

As if the chasm between us wasn’t already wide enough. It made sense why he would want the girls to know about us then. He could go away for tour, leaving behind his girls with not a nanny but…something more. I wondered how long he knew, how long he had been wondering how to tell me, how long he would have waited it Peter hadn’t sloughed the information on me.

It was too much for a Tuesday morning.

Though John’s forehead was pinched still with confusion, he managed a small smile. My stomach turned at the sight of it. I looked away before I could try and determine what memories lay behind that expression. Which pieces he still had to give him a picture of the night before.

“She took right good care of you,” Peter went on, unknowingly stabbing more daggers into my chest. “Didn’t she?”

“Other than whatever scrap you got into,” Richard said, his lip turned up in disgust.

Peter shot him a glare, as per usual. “Yes, you’re feeling better now. And looking better too. Right boys?”

“Much better,” BP offered quickly.

Richard sighed and shuffled a hand through his wispish hair. “I mean, it’s a start.” 

I pressed myself up from my seat. “Peter, please sit. I ought to get on with things and you all can…talk.”

I didn’t wait for any replies. I needed to get inside, finish my coffee, and try and make myself serviceable for the day.

Though several voices called out after me, John’s stood apart. “Julia? Julia, wait –”

How dare he say my name like that? The lilting emphasis I’d come to love. Whether amidst bantering or the needy twirls between the sheets, it was his call to me.

And I would not let it soften me.

I stalked back into the house, into the kitchen, letting the door swing shut behind me. Annie was gone, off to another one of her tasks for today, which was less than ideal for me. Being alone meant the rip cord could be pulled on my emotions.

I grabbed the counter to steady myself and prepared to let out a sob.

But the kitchen door opened behind me, the sound of bare feet on the floor. Damn it all, I knew it was him just from the way he walked now. The softness of his breaths. That’s what Annie told me would happen all those months ago. I would learn the sounds of the house. It would become a part of me.

He would become a part of me.

“Julia, please, let me talk to you.”

I tipped my head back, resisting a curse as I steady the tears that so desperately wanted to escape. “What is it?” I said, placing my fist on my hip and pressing my fingernails into my palm to take my mind off the need to weep.

John didn’t respond.

I took a deep breath and turned to face him. Being alone together put me on edge immediately. I ran my hand around my neck, the phantom feeling of my collar tightening suffocating me. “What is it, John?”

“You’re upset with me,” he said plainly.

I pressed my hand to my chest and shook my head. “I’m not.”

I watched him take a step forward. My stomach dipped with nausea. “You don’t have to lie.”

Under the fabric of my dress, I could feel the wound his teeth made in my skin. At least that was easier to hide than the tears in my eyes. “You were in a bad way. That’s all.”

John’s skin was like paste. He needed a shower. And he needed a meal. Some more sleep probably. His jaw was prickling with stubble that needed to be shaved. His hair was more like a nest or a mop than the silky tresses I knew he cared for so well.

I didn’t look much better.

He took another step forward, pinching his fingers together at his sternum. “What happened, Julia?”

I moved back, hoping he didn’t notice. “Peter told you, it was just –”

“They’re appealing to my ego, they won’t tell me the truth.”

It saddened me that his want for the truth surprised me. The vision I had of John had slowly been replaced. From confident to cocksure, from humble to petulant.

The good parts were still there, weren’t they? My vision was simply clouded. Perhaps.

John strode forward quickly, quicker than I knew what to do with. His hand landed against my elbow, “Darling, please –”

Without thinking, I ripped myself away from him. My heart lodged itself in my throat and my whole body screamed for me to run from him. Danger. Destruciton. Ruination.

John’s hand lifted into the air, wide palmed and open. A surrender, though his eyes betrayed his confusion.

Every return of his was marked by the need to touch. More touching. More, more, more. Again, again, again. To him, the denial sent him down a different path at the forking of the road. Little did he know I was already miles ahead of him. Running. Away, so far away.

“Sorry,” I apologized meekly. “I don’t know why I did that.”

I did. Of course I did.

John moved the open hand to his nightshirt, fisting the fabric anxiously. “Tell me what happened,” he insisted, his voice low and clipped.

“It’s not –”

“Julia. Tell me.”

I glimpsed a flake of dried blood under his nose. I ran my hand back and forth along the benchtop nervously. “You had something. I have no idea what. But they brought you here in the middle of the night so I could help calm you down.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” he said more to himself than to me.

“Well, they all seem very aware of what’s been going on between the two of us. I suppose they thought you needed a woman’s touch.” I added the last bit through gritted teeth.  

John sucked his lower lip into his mouth for a few moments of contemplation. “I don’t speak about it outright, but I suppose the phone calls aren’t necessarily…secretive.”

I clamped my hand around the bicep of my opposite arm. I was shrinking as we spoke, bit by bit. An open secret. Like mistresses and whores. “You wanted her,” I said softly. When John canted his head, I clarified, “Maureen. You were…distraught.”

His mouth fell open. “I wanted her?”

“You got it in your head she was…” I shook my head. “I don’t know, I only saw the tail end. Because when you realized it was me you were coming home to, you came back to your senses.”

John’s brow furrowed and his mouth grew very small as he considered the facts. “I’m sorry, I don’t know where that came from.”

His quiet apology reinvigorated his pull on me. The inexplicable connection between us had not ceased to exist, but it was fraying, dangerously close to a single thread. “Do you remember talking to me on the phone last night?”

“I…don’t.”

Another thread snapped. “So you don’t remember what you said to me?”

“Did I say something hurtful? If I did, I’m so –“

I shook my head. “No, no. It’s not important.” I looked out the window at the expansive yard. It was turning gray out. Rain was imminent. Then, I smiled. Trying to smooth everything over. Except the tears I’d been holding back decided to betray me and fall. I swiped at them. “Fuck me.”

John clicked his tongue. “Julia, please, don’t be upset, I didn’t know I –”

“We shouldn’t keep doing this. It was too soon, too rash,” I say hurriedly.

“Please don’t say that.”

“You still think of her. It isn’t fair to any of us.” Any of us. Because whether he remembers or not he had implicated his children.

John’s forehead pinched. “I’ll always think of her.”

I winced. Stupid thing to say.

“That’s not something that will ever go away, Julia.”

“That’s not what I meant, I…” I swallowed, tears rolling down my cheeks. “I don’t think I’m strong enough for any of this.”  

I turned away from him to try and cry with some kind of privacy. Because it was true. I wasn’t strong enough to be everything for him, always anticipating each and every feeling or worry he might have, trying to be good, oh so good because that’s what he needed.

And if I failed?

It was not just a human thing for me to fail.

I was paid to be here. Where did my job end and I begin?

I don’t see you being able to resist that kind of trouble. And we know how that turned out the first time, Nick’s voice played loudly in my head.

Oh, if he could see me now, he’d be laughing. I just knew it.

Again, a hand. This time to my shoulder. My body bristled even harder this time, an angry scrawl gurgling from the back of my throat. “Nnndon’t touch me,” I snapped, clutching at the place he touched me as if it burnt

I was a cornered animal. Teeth bared, tears streaming down my face. And this time instead of confusion, something else appeared on John’s face. An amalgam of disgust and fear. Good. That would make everything easier. “What happened?” he asked, his voice harsh.

“John –”

He stepped closer. “What happened last night?”

“I don’t want to do this, I don’t.” I gulped at every word, trying to steady myself.

“You won’t even look at me and I can’t –”

“I can’t.”

“I can’t even touch you without –”

“Fine! You want to know?” If I let him close in any further, I would suffocate. I grabbed the collar of my dress and pulled down, revealing the wound he’d made with his teeth the night before. “Here.”

John’s eyes landed on the purple impressions of his teeth on my chest. He had the gall to look confused.

“You bit me,” I said through clenched teeth. “You bit me and then you tried to fuck me.”

The words landed in his face, his expression flinching. The universe must have been laughing at the recurrence of these marks on me. Once from pleasure, once from pain. The pain inflicted by the wrong man.

“And I told you no and you wouldn’t stop.” My voice broke at the end because up until the night before, on the phone I loved him. And now here, in the kitchen I…still did.

But I knew I couldn’t.

John pinched his lips together. “Is that why…” He gestured toward his face. “The blood?”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, but if I didn’t –“I stopped. Why couldn’t I just say the words? Say them aloud. He deserved to hear them. If I hadn’t hurt him, he would have hurt me. Raped me. And this conversation would be much different. Or would it? Is it any different if the intention was there? If he wasn’t in his right mind? “You wouldn’t stop,” I said once more, ashamed how meek I sounded.

John put both his hands over his face for a moment, then scrubbed them back through his hair, pulling his chin up with them. “Fuck.” Then he laughed, raw and humorless. It was a harrowing kind of laugh. One you acquire as an adult when you realize how richly awful the world can be. “Fuck,” he repeated. Quieter. More bruised. “I don’t remember doing that.”

“I know.”

“I don’t know why I –“

“I know.”

“I would never, ever –”

I blinked, releasing one more tear. “I know, John, I know.” But he nearly had.

His fingers of one hand ticked nervously and his breath was heavier than usual. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

I didn’t have to say the truth aloud for us both to hear it.

Too late.

“But I can’t lose you, Julia, I can’t.”

I found myself smiling despite myself, wicking away more tears. In the haze of love I had for him, I would cling to the meekest admission so I didn’t have to let him go.

“Give me a chance to…make it up to you. If I can.”

“I boxed you in the nose, perhaps we’re even,” I said in an effort to lighten the moment, looking at the tears glistening on my fingers.

The corner of his lips tipped up out of necessity and nothing more.

I dried my hands on the bodice of my dress. “I suppose you’ll be going back, then.”

John scratched the back of his head, eyes falling to the ground. “I’d rather not seeing as how we’re –”

I interrupted swiftly. “No, it’s good, I need to get used to it. What with your tour coming up.”

His reaction was delayed, but once it registered, his pallid cheeks lit up with embarrassment.

“Peter told me,” I said with a limp smile.

John sighed. “I was going to tell you when I came home.”

“Right, of course, I’m just a little surprised, is all.”

“Everything’s being rushed, once we’re done. We had stuff in the catalog anyway that we never –” he stopped short. “None of that matters really. You know. In the scheme…of things.”

I had no more fight in me. No more willingness to open my heart up and show the hurt. The want. If I was going to continue to love him, I’d have to lock it tightly away until the timing was more appropriate. A silly thought when it comes to such a quivering, untenable feeling.

Before either of us could say anything, I heard noise from the hall, the terrace door opening and heavy footsteps.

“Enough,” I said softly. “No more of this.”

John started to step forward and then remembered that his advancements were now threats. He glanced down at his hands as the door to the kitchen opened.

“Hate to interrupt –“ It was Peter. “But we really ought to get back to it.”

“Just a minute,” John said, barely tilting his head over his shoulder toward Peter.

Peter’s eyes found mine and where there had been a semblance of softness earlier, there was now edge.

Until I was notified further or until I changed the circumstances myself, I was under an obligation to make everyone’s lives easier. Every single life but my own.

Under Peter’s watchfulness, I did what last night I thought I’d never do again. I stepped closer to John. His eyes lit up, but kept himself at bay. I could hear my blood rushing in my ears as I took John’s hand. At first it burned and then my body seemed to remember every other moment before last night at once. I inhaled sharply and lifted my gaze into his. Blue I had been dreaming about for far longer than we had known each other’s mouths and bodies.

“You won’t lose me,” I whispered. A promise to him and to myself. Time apart would be good. For me to weight out all the good, remember him the way I had fallen in love with him, not the feral monster from the night before.

John left me with a touch to my cheek. Nothing more.

When I finally was able to sleep after almost forty hours of waking, he came to me in a nightmare.

tag list: @jimmys-zeppelin, @kari-12-10, @grxtsch, @ritacaroline, @kyunisixx, @salixfragilis , @jimmypages , @dollyvandal , @cassiana-on-dark-side, @faisonsunreve , @sastrugie , @seventieswhore , @mayspringcome , @barrettavenue , @foreverandadaydarling , @glimmerofsanity , @montereypopgroupie , @lzep , @jimmysdragonsuit13 , @n0quart3r , @larsgoingtomars , @paginate54 , @leveeisbreaking , @callmethehunter (let me know if you’d like to be added 💋)

[covid-safer-hotties]

Also preserved on our archive

By Julia Doubleday

Last week, Jason Gale of Bloomberg put out an excellent piece about post-COVID brain damage, titled “What We Know About Covid’s Impact on Your Brain.”

The piece is broad and draws on dozens of studies to paint a concerning picture of Your Brain on COVID. It’s not the first piece to do so in the mainstream press, but it’s one of a small handful over nearly half a decade. Gale’s piece gathers evidence pointing to increased risks of dementia, Parkinson’s disease, cognitive impairment, worsening of previous psychiatric conditions, and significant drops in IQ.

The piece goes on to mention viral persistence, immune system disruption and blood clots as linked to the cognitive impacts of COVID- all three are key targets of ongoing research into Long COVID. It’s a wonderful summary to help people get a picture of the enormous amount of research pointing to brain damage following COVID.

It also begs the question: why is the public learning potentially life-altering information about a virus they’ve almost certainly contracted multiple times now from the economics section of Bloomberg? (Or from The Gauntlet, for that matter?)

As politicians pushed us all “back to normal”, a common refrain from the top was that we “had the tools” to deal with COVID, and that individuals could now make their own decisions about what sorts of risks they were comfortable taking.

I’ve written at length about the absurdity of attempting to individualize what is a collective problem. What was once a libertarian, far-right wing idea - disease control should be the territory of individuals, not society at large- was first promoted by Republicans, then mainstreamed by liberals in order to paint Biden’s failed vaccine-only herd-immunity strategy as a success.

As we settled into a cycle of endless waves of disease driven by rapidly evolving new variants, our government and public health bodies continued to promote the fantasy that everyone can make their own decisions about whether or not to get infected.

Of course, anyone who does make the “risk assessment” that catching COVID is unsafe for them is functionally shut out of society. It’s hardly a choice freely made, as the social and economic punishments for failing to “return to normal” continue to intensify.

But it wasn’t enough to snatch away free tests, vaccines and COVID treatments, all but eliminate the isolation period for active infections, and push people to view disease control as a personal responsibility. Along with instructing people to make their own “risk assessments” about COVID, our government also downplays, minimizes, and flat out denies the risks of recurrent infections.

For example: COVID causes cognitive damage. That seems like an important piece of information to give the American public while you encourage them to make risk assessments about whether to contract it every year, does it not?

What about parents deciding to send their kids back to schools with zero precautions?

Should they be warned that COVID carries a significant risk of brain damage following infection, before deciding whether it’s a good idea to let their children catch it twice a year?

And if that information is quite deliberately kept from the public by the same bodies failing to provide collective mitigations, are you asking people to make “risk assessments”, or are you just pushing them to catch COVID?

Let’s review what the public has been told about cognitive damage after COVID by the CDC, the President, the administration, and prominent media figures.

The CDC’s twitter account has never tweeted the words “cognitive damage” or “brain damage” in reference to COVID. On March 23, 2023, the CDC twitter account posted its only reference to “brain fog”:

"Common symptoms of Long COVID include fatigue, shortness of breath, fast heartbeat, & brain fog. If several weeks have passed since you had #COVID19 & you still have symptoms that interfere with your daily activities, talk to your doctor."

The current CDC Director, Mandy Cohen, has never tweeted the words “cognitive damage,” “brain damage” or “brain fog.” Neither has former CDC Director Rachelle Walensky.

In interviews, Mandy, like the rest of the administration, likes to keep it vague. Brain damage is certainly not on the talking points menu; no specific outcomes are. We are “living with COVID”. We “have the tools”. She encourages vaccinations and not masks, the tool that can actually prevent infection. In a 2023 media tour about “rebuilding trust” with the public, she repeatedly refers to the pandemic in the past tense although the pandemic is ongoing according to the WHO.

Here’s an interesting one: former White House COVID-19 Response Coordinator Ashish Jha has tweeted about COVID brain damage once: on June 17, 2021, ten months before he joined the administration. He’s since become a prominent minimizer who calls masking “fringe” and downplays post-COVID immune system dysregulation, but here’s what he had to say in June 2021:

"Important study out of UK

Worth your time

Researchers examined brain MRIs of people before and after they got COVID, matched with controls

What did they find?

Substantial loss of grey matter in those who had gotten but recovered from COVID

www.medrxiv.org/content/10.1101/2021.06.11.21258690v1 "

Wow! Seems like the kind of thing the White House COVID-19 Response Coordinator would want to share with people, rather than never mention again.

And of course, the most subtle propaganda the Administration, fellow politicians, and CDC leaders employ is their refusal to mask or appear to mitigate COVID in any way. If each COVID infection carries a risk of brain damage, surely the Director of the CDC wouldn’t constantly show up in public spaces - including airport terminals- maskless?

The President famously wouldn’t even mask after testing positive for COVID, shortly before dropping out of his re-election campaign. He, certainly, has never talked about COVID’s effects on the brain (if indeed, he’s aware of them), instead using airtime to brag about defeating disease mitigation tools. “The pandemic is over,” he incorrectly stated in the fall of 2022, “if you notice, no one is wearing masks,” he went on to say, correctly identifying his success at stigmatizing COVID prevention.

Perhaps no single outlet is more responsible for the dishonest normalizing of continual COVID reinfections than the New York Times newsletter The Morning in the hands of David Leonhardt. During the mass death event of Omicron Wave 1, Dave was the main party responsible for the “omicron is mild” narrative (a lie) that spread round the world. This February, he “both sides’d” vaccinating children because, quote, “children are extremely unlikely to become seriously ill from Covid”. As recently reported by CBS News, up to 5.8 million kids have Long COVID.

Of course, it’s fantastic that CBS News is reporting on the damage that has been done to children by returning them to classrooms without upgraded ventilation or other mitigations. It would have been better if major media outlets had conveyed this risk before millions of children were disabled.

It’s also great that Bloomberg is reporting about the brain damage that can follow COVID, deep diving the research and putting forward three of the most compelling explanations for Long COVID. But how many people, nearly five years into the crisis, know anything about this topic? How many people who are three, four, five infections in, consented to these risks when they took their masks off?

Who is responsible for this ignorance? Is it not the public health bodies and politicians charged with responding to the virus?

In interviews and speeches, it’s not only cognitive damage that our elected leaders and public health officials fail to mention. President Biden has said the words “Long COVID” a handful of times publicly. Vice President Harris has never said them. Is this not bizarre to anyone who expects the Democratic party to convey scientific facts about the pandemic to the public? Is it not clearly an attempt to hide those harmed by the ongoing “let it rip” strategy from view?

When tens of millions of Americans are disabled by a virus on your watch, never uttering the name of the disease they have is deliberate, and leaves sufferers of Long COVID struggling with stigmatization in their personal lives. By enforcing silence around Long COVID at the top of the Biden Administration, in the CDC, and among media talking heads, the public is encouraged to doubt and dismiss the condition entirely.

If this administration is so certain the public would freely choose to ignore the millions suffering from Long COVID, the risks of infection including brain damage, the high rates of transmission in our communities, and continue to opt out of mitigations and mask wearing, why do they work so hard to hide all of the above?

Why do they, along with most other electeds on the Hill, pretend they have never heard the words Long COVID, refuse to acknowledge the ongoing toll of mass infection, and continue to push testing and data out of reach? Is this the behavior of leaders who are confident that the public has freely chosen to cruelly and deliberately abandon millions of people to long-term chronic illness, and to repeatedly risk joining them?

Or is it the behavior of leaders who know they are on borrowed time, sweeping the ever-growing body of evidence and ever-higher pile of victims under the rug while stubbornly repeating that “nobody is wearing masks”?

Scientists, advocates and reporters face an uphill battle getting information about the risks of repeated COVID infections to the public. It is uphill not because of the lack of studies, resources, victims, or voices, but because those who could do the most good continue to use their platforms to do the most harm. As long as the public receives the message from our leaders that recurrent COVID infections aren’t dangerous, the truth has a high wall of propaganda to hurdle.

Nevertheless, the truth continues to emerge via studies, articles, the people who’ve been harmed, and those who care. It’s unfortunate that our public health officials and politicians will be remembered for hiding the facts about COVID, rather than disseminating them.

[bumblesimagines]

how long have you had feelings for me?

what's a kiss between friends?

would it make things weird between us if i kissed you right now?

Daisy Jones

would it make things weird between us if i kissed you right now?

what's a kiss between friends?

how long have you had feelings for me?

Pronouns: They/Them/Theirs, GN!Reader

While you much preferred the company of little Julia in comparison to most of the people partying downstairs, once the baby had dozed back off in your arms, you decided it'd be better to set her back down in her crib and let her sleep properly. You gave your niece a peck on the forehead, smiling gently when she stirred and quietly exiting the nursery before she could wake up and start fussing again. 

The party downstairs had grown packed with all sorts of people you had no real interest in. Producers, managers, up-and-coming singers or actors, and just about anyone deep in the music industry. Many were friends or aqquantices of your sister's husband, Billy Dunne, and his band, and as much as you wanted to enjoy the party, you hardly trusted Billy around the booze being poured in every corner. Camilla assured you at every moment that he'd changed, that he swore off the drugs and beer and women. But the only thing you saw when you looked into his eyes was the memory of your sister weeping in her hospital bed with Julia in her arms because her husband had failed to show up. It filled you with nothing but anger and disgust. 

You slipped outside into the backyard and dug around in your coat pocket for your pack of cigarettes and lighter. It felt better standing outside instead of the stuffy, smoke-filled rooms inside. You stuck a cigarette between your lips and fiddled with the lighter until it flickered on long enough to light it. You barely had time to inhale before it was snatched from your lips.

"You mind?" The spunky redhead asked, already holding the cigarette between her lips. Her eyes crinkled with amusement and she took a deep inhale before dragging it from her lips and exhaling a cloud of smoke into the air. "I was looking for you everywhere, you know."

"Oh, yeah? Why's that, Daisy Jones?" 

The first time you'd met the redheaded singer otherwise known as Daisy Jones, it'd been in the studio when Camila had sent you over to bring lunch to everyone. You never kept up with the band so the new face had come as a surprise but from then on, you found yourself bumping more and more into Daisy Jones. She seemed to pop up out of thin air with her wild mane and chatterbox tendencies. You preferred her over Billy, and her rivalry with him only amused you, but she still reminded you of him. She drank too much, popped too many pills, and did too many lines. Her body fought hard to keep her alive, that was for sure.

"I don't know," She admitted with a shrug, a smile stretching across her face. "I just like your company, I guess."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Daisy giggled softly under her breath, running her finger over her bottom lip as the last bit of smoke left her mouth. She swiped her tongue over her drying lips and tilted her head, her big blue eyes gazing over your face. "Would it make things weird between us if I kissed you right now?" 

"What?" You laughed in surprise. 

Shrugging, Daisy wrapped her lips around the cigarette again, staining it with her lipstick before pulling back again. "What's a kiss between friends?" She laughed that time, nearly coughing on the smoke and breaking out into nervous giggles. Daisy looked away from you and wrapped her fingers around one of her swinging hoop earrings.

"Depends. Are we just friends?" You asked lightly, biting back a chuckle when her head snapped back toward you, eyes widening even further. Her cheeks darkened with a soft pink. Gotcha. "Daisy Jones... how long have you had feelings for me?"

[iipaibai]

Erza, Julia, Mirajane hc (NSFW) with dom!male!reader.

a/n: worked 8 hours today, working 9 hours tomorrow, yet nothing compares to the amount of time i’ll spend rereading this and smiling at being able to have the courage to post this and simultaneously suck so hard at writing for a dom male pov. #notthebrightest #slaygirlboss

*——————————————————————*

ERZAA

-erza would def be an obedient sub. like.. have you SEEN the way she shrinks back when shes speaking to someone of a higher power???

-a big plus for that requip too btw

-she would go above and beyond to make you feel the best you can-not just for you, but for her as well. like she would suck you off till you dropped. Alternate ending for pleasure doms: she’d take about 7-8 orgasms before she fainted.

-out in the day, she seems like the dom in your guys relationship. everyone even makes jokes that she pegs you. but behind closed doors is when shit gets real.

-it’s almost sad to see how much she just wants to be on her knees all the time, pleasing you.

-even you mocking her doesn’t sway her. The nastiest things you could think of still wouldn’t be enough to wake her from her cockhungry trance.

-“Titania, queen of the fairies, sucking my dick. whining all pretty and breathy just for her (daddy/master/god/etc). does she like it? hm? awww those tears in your eyes say that you do~”

-def a deepthroating queen. she doesn’t have a gag reflex bc it’s easier to survive without one

-a widely respected sorceress among EVERYONE so knowing that so many people respect her makes it all the more pathetic when she whines for you to just stop teasing and finally put it in

-can deal with monstrous size but truly prefers a smaller cock.

-she does everything for you and you alone. whether it be sucking your cock until your eyes roll into the back of your head, or letting you do whatever you wanted to her-as long as it made you feel good, she’d sacrifice herself for you, let alone your pleasure. ❤️

————————————————————————

JUVIAA

-juvia is a brat. she CAN be obedient, if you really liked it, but she doesn’t want to be.

-once you start dating her, you get a glimpse of her playful side and see that past that relatively obedient exterior, she’s actually a little disobedient and lowk a brat

-she wants to be restricted, restrained, unable to move at all. she wants to be in pain so much and be put back in her place

-she purposefully upsets you so that you get angry and pin her against the wall, nearly crushing her wrists in the process

-“you think you’re fucking funny? lets see how long you’ll stay laughing when i shut your brain off by chaining you to the bed and leaving a vibrator in while I go take a fucking nap. should we time it”

-she can last very long. VERYY long.

-do i even need to clarify that she’s a squirter?

-she loves feeling helpless, alone, terrified, and she’s definitely into predator/prey.

-your guys’ favorite activity is when you let her loose in the forest right by the Fairy Tail guild with a blindfold on. she stumbles around, trying so hard to see through it and feel her way instead of running when she suddenly feels your hands on her, whispering lowly in her ear.

“gotcha.”💙

————————————————————————

MIRAAAA

-to me, mira would be a pleasure dom. but, for the sake of this, she’ll have a pretty similar personality in bed as she does out in the world

-she isn’t exactly as obedient as Erza is behind closed doors, but she’s also nowhere near as bratty as Juvia.

-she’s a good mix of housewife and back alley street whore but instead of money it’s oz of your cum

-she’s so genuinely embarrassed about the things that turns her on because she knows that if word ever got out, it would be the end of her career at Fairy Tail. she thinks that if she ever told anyone about anything she was into, she would instantly get fired and shunned. (She’s into light choking and praise-degradation)

-not too much degradation, because just as she’s very pretty, she’s the same amount to fragile, mentally.

-but also not too much praise otherwise she feels like she’s being lied to.

-her favorite line of yours? probably the time she spilled a glass of orange juice on your limited edition “how to dominate in bedwars” in the morning after she stayed up all night, flipped out about it, tried to clean it off. But then you stood up, grabbed her hand, and pulled her into your warm body while you wrapped your arms around her and whispered softly into her ear. “it’s okay, my love. someone as beautiful as you should never have to fret about something so trivial. you’re okay, it’s okay. it’s all going to be just fine.” 🤍

[lastlymatt]

Julia Rothman's Letters

These are my quick transcriptions of what we can see of Julia's letters. John's handwriting is atrocious in places, and some parts were either too blurry to read or covered up, but I've done my best.

Edited after receiving some very lovely and helpful messages. Thanks, everyone!

Top letter

27 July 2004 w, When I close my eyes, I can still taste the wine we shared and smell incense on the air. I can still picture you in that exquisite gown, your golden hair, your eyes on mine Am I alone in these thoughts? It feels like only yesterday since we first met and yet nearly three years of service have passed that, without you, I feel sure would have been unendurable. I found the enclosed photograph of the two of us at the 'school'. Keep it safe and close. with love, xx

Small yellow letter

27/12/[01?] My dearest w, A dreary time without you. Can't wait to be at the palace with you again. H [or JR]

Bottom letter

Dear The temperature here is cold enough, but I feel it all the more acutely for not being near you. I can't decide if the memory of our [illegible] blessing or a curse it plays over and over in [illegible]

I hope that this helps anyone