#time and time again they said we do not want you WE DO NOT TRUST YOU

[hoe4sports]

The ballerina mouse

-A part of the musli universe

A/N: At last, a new piece of the musli universe. You can find the series here. There will be a new piece of "without you" very soon.

Summary: This is a piece with a shorter timespan, more so of a situation. This is just to bring some background information to the story.

-

“But, I don’t understand” you whisperss with furrowed brows, confused as to why things haven’t worked out like Leah and Alessia told you it was supposed to. You had marked it down on the little calendar with little cats drawn on it that Leah got you for Christmas last year. Everything was supposed to be okay by now, settled and signed. You were supposed to belong with Leah and Alessia. Like a real family. Have your name on the mailbox next to theirs. But once again, things hadn’t worked out like it was supposed to.

Your feet dangled from your bed as you watched the floor between your two moms, or what was supposed to be your moms by now.

“Sweetheart, i know it’s hard to understand the process. We thought it would be done by now, but the decision will take a little longer than what we expected.” Alessia pleaded as she tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear.

You nodded as you sighed quietly enough for only you to hear. Maybe this whole adoption thing was too good to be true, you think in a whisper way to yourself as if you feel scared that someone might read your thoughts.

It has been 2 years since you came to Alessia and Leah after being shuffled around between homes unfit for kids. A year since they started the process of making you a forever part of their home. The social worker had explained that in your situations it normally took no longer than a year, so you added that to your equation of chaos.

“Could you maybe explain it again?” You sniffled out, wiping your nose on the sleeve of your soft pink fleece. You want to understand what she’s was saying, you really do; but it’s like your brain can’t comprehend it. Like there aren’t enough words in the English language for you to understand. Why can’t you just be there forever? You don’t know anyone else anymore. When you were young, your mommy and daddy never had siblings or parents. You have grandparents now, even uncles and aunts, and very soon, you’ll have a fifth cousin.

Leah and Alessia shares a sad look between them before Leah squats down to your level. Her gaze tries to meet yours, but your eyes are glued to your feet. It feels like looking into Leah’s eyes will make the sky come crashing down. Or worse, it might cause you to cry. You still don’t like crying in-front of Leah and Alessia. You don’t know that yet, but the habit is something that will stick with you for the rest of your life. You believe that if you cry, then perhaps they’ll change their minds about adopting you, and besides losing your guardian angel pocket mouse; that’s just about the worst thing that could happen.

“When someone wants to make a child a part of their forever family, there are social workers that need to make sure that everything is done right. Sometimes, that takes a little longer time than usual.” Leah explains softly while you nod. You sort of understand it, but you don’t want to realise the consequences of what would happen if someone were to want you back. You don’t understand why anyone would want to have you back, not after leaving you to fend for yourself for this long.

“Does that mean that someone can take me away, again?” You whisper, a single tear rolling down your chin before catching it with your tumb.

Leah and Alessia don’t know what to say. They have agreed between themselves to not keep secrets and to avoid lying to you. Lying causes trust to break, that’s what the social workers have said anyway. But it hurts Leah and Alessia to have to explain the legal battle that they are having to go through. Alessia doesn’t think it’s appropriate for a child your age to know all of these things; but Leah has her heart set on honesty. Age appropriate honesty anyway.

“It’s not that easy, baby” Alessia whispers out. You take notice of the puzzled look on her face, and it makes you feel insecure. Her face looks sad, and you just about now notice the redness under her eyes. She doesn’t have the answers because nobody does. Not even the social worker that tried to explain this to you earlier this morning.

You look over at Musli, your favourite ragdoll cat with what you assume is the softest fur in the world. He looks over at you before standing up into a deep stretch and walking over to you. His little act brings a small smile to your face. His little head bonks your leg. Your hand reaches down to pet him, and he instantly purrs as he bounces up into your lap.

“But, are you gonna not be my mommies until they have made up their minds about what to do with me?” You mumble. A part of you doesn’t want any answers. It makes you feel like you are a bag of trash that needs to be taken care of. If you could stay in foster care forever then maybe that would be the best. Nobody could take you away because there wouldn’t be an adoption and you would only belong with Leah and Alessia on pretend. Maybe you only belong until you are big enough to get a job or maybe until they decide to have a real child. The thought of them having a real child scares you; what if it is a girl? Then you’ll no longer be their little girl anymore. You just wanna stay here with Leah, Alessia and Musli. The dissociation makes you shut out Leah’s talking, and you nod along as she explains. You don’t realize that they have left the room until Musli hops down from your lap.

It’s been a while since you arrived, their first placement. A traumatized 3 year old turned into a somewhat hopeful 5 year old. By now, you had lived more with your new mommies than your real parents. It felt strange, how your family was torn apart once. Then again and again and again. Your attachment issues becoming worse with every new placement until you ended up with Leah and Alessia in what was just crumbles of a 3 year old. They took the time to pick up all the pieces of you that had been spread around like broken porcelain and glued you back together piece by piece until you were close to whole. The only issue with that, is that just like broken porcelain that gets glued together will have cracks, so will you.

-

The next morning, you wake up early. The birds can be heard chirping through the window, and you could swear that the sun is about to peek through your window. Your house is quiet, that means that Leah and Alessia are still fast asleep. That is one of the things you like about not having siblings. Nobody wakes up before you on weekends. Only you and your trusty companion, Musli, is awake. He lies in the corner, in the soft bed next to your guardian angel house. It’s a big pink play house from Maileg. You had wished for the guardian angel mouse as soon as you saw it; it was the same mouse you got from your mom. It was your most prized possesion before your last foster home decided that you had to share it with their daughter, who eventually lost it. You cried for months when it disappeared.

Your feet settles into the big rug on the floor and you shuffle over to the play house. It’s nicely decorated, Leah had splurged on the house and the furniture. She even purchased all the accessories money could buy. Maileg isn't cheap, it was a ridiculously expensive Danish brand. Leah remembers Alessia’s face when she told her that she spent 25 £ on just the tiny wooden loveseat for the dollhouse. But Leah didn’t care about prices or costs, she only cared about how she had a little girl to spoil. If that mean spending thousands of pounds, she would happily swipe her card.

The mother mouse is sitting in the kitchen, with a news paper and a pink metal cup with gold details. The mama mouse is sitting in the living room watching tv while having a plate of cookies in front of her. Then, there is the little ballerina mouse. She’s a small mouse, just a child; but she’s a ballerina with a soft pink tutu. She’s in her bedroom, all by herself; tucked away where she feels the safest. Her door is open, a reminder of how she’s allowed out of her room at any time of the day. You sigh when you see it because you remember what Leah said about keeping your door close. So, you get up from the floor and you grab the handle of the door before slightly pulling the door open. The door was meant to act as a gentle reminder that you are welcome to play downstairs or come into their bedroom in the mornings; but even after close to three years, you still don’t feel comfortable.

Muesli sits down next to you once again return to the floor. He purrs loudly before stretching himself out next to you. Ragdolls tend to be big, some even as big as 15 kg. But Muesli is only 7kg, even though he is almost as long as your carpet. You pick up the mommy mouse before placing it next to Muesli, you even place it in his fur making sure that he dosent feel left out of the roleplay.

"Here you go, musli" you whisper, earning a bonk on your hand from the furry friend. For a split second, you imagine what it would be like if you had a sibling instead of Musli. But, that would mean that you could be replaced. That their real child would come first, and you'd hopefully come second. It wouldn't be an issue for you, you like to play with other kids and in many of the foster families you have been through; you had siblings. It's not the sibling itself you had issues with, it was the parents and how they seemed to favoritize their real child meaning you would get the blame for anything, and you´d be the one that gets left behind.

You remember how once a family told you that they would be going to Paris for a weekend, and oblivious little you believed that they would bring you too. So when the departure day came, and you stood ready all excited with your little backpack all ready; they told you that there were crackers and peaches in the kitchen, and that you could take pizza from the counter. That day, you stood in the doorway squatted down to watch through the cat door as the family left you behind. You don't realize it yet, but one day; people will be cheering your name as you secure victory after victory across the biggest stages in the world.

You reach for the special guardian angel mouse that's hiding in the closet of the ballerina mouse’s room. She pretends to cross the room to head downstairs where she grabs some bread and cheese. The food gets brought back up to the ballerina mouse’s room, but not before checking to make sure that nobody can see her. She hands the food over to the little ballerina mouse who accepts the food before hiding behind her desk to eat it. She dosent want to be a burden, she only wants to do good, she only wants to act good. To be a good little mouse. So that perhaps, one day; someone might want her.

In the middel of the play, you hear a door squeal. You instantly freeze up, the mouse falling from your hand onto the carper. Musli instantly gets up, and bonks himself on your shoulder as he purrs. His purrs is enough to make you decompress. Your gaze is glued to the floor, and you sit completely still, to the point of not breathing. As the anxiety sets in, you decide to shut your eyes. Hiding in your closet isn't at option, as you feel frozen to the ground.

"Y/N? Are you up already?" A voice speaks. The voice seems to be similar to Leah´s, but you are not sure. You remember how your fosters told you that when people are talking to you, your ears can lie and make you believe that you heard something different than what actually was said. So if your foster dad said that you were useless, he might've said that you were kind instead. At least, that is what they wanted you to believe.

"Y/N?" The voice speaks softly, a little closer this time. You feel a hand on your shoulder, and you open your eyes to see Leah. Your shoulders instantly relaxes, and the coldness you have carried around this morning suddenly feels warm and toasty. "Are you playing with you mice?" Leah asks, sitting down next to you. You smile and nod your head eagerly.

"I like my mice" you say softly, picking up the mama mouse. "This is you" you said holding it towards Leah, she accepts it and smiles. "And this is Alessia" you say, holding up the mommy mouse. "And who is this?" Leah asks, pointing towards the little ballerina mouse. You look over at the mouse, and starts to fiddle with your pink pyjamas.

After gathering courage for a minute, you point to yourself. "Is it you?" Leah asks, picking it up from behind the bed where it has been hiding. You don't say anything, but you let out a small hmm. "Did she have a sleepover?" Leah asks, looking at you with a soft smile.

"No" you speak, your voice low. "Hmmm, did she fall behind her bed when she slept?" she asks, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. "no" you say, still unsure about whether to explain to her why your favorite mouse was hiding.

"It is scared" you say, picking up a baby mouse before fiddling with its tail. "Oh? It's scared huh? Well, does it want to tell the Leah mouse why?" she asks curiously, placing the ballerina mouse in her bed. "maybe" you whisper, having Leah in the corner of your eye.

Leah pulls out her pretending voice out and walks the Leah mouse into the ballerina mouse´s room. "oh no, my little ballerina mouse, what's wrong?" she says, hopping over to the bed before sitting down on the floor in the ballerina mouse´s room.

Your hand reaches for the little ballerina mouse, and you make the mouse hide her head in her tiny arms. "Oh no, does my little ballerina mouse need a mama hug?" Leah urges, tapping the ballerina mouse on her shoulder. The ballerina mouse nods, and the mama mouse wraps her tiny mouse arms around the ballerina. Leah leans towards you before pulling you into her arms, you relax your shoulders; it feel safe. Leah makes you feel safe.

"What's on your mind, my little mouse?" Leah asks as you listen to her steady heartbeat. "Im scared" you whisper out, and for a second you cannot believe that you just said that. But you remember that your mommy always said that you could trust people that are trusted by animals. And so you do. You pour your heart out, about how you are scared that they won't go through with the adoption. That this is an excuse for not wanting to deal with you anymore. That this somehow sends you back to one of your old fosterfamilies. And Leah? She listens, she dosent argue or talk back or tell you to shut up, she listens until you stop rambling.

"We would never send you back, ever. You are a part of our family now. I can't promise that you will never have siblings, but I can promise that you will never be considered anything less than another baby. And if you feel sad in your heart, then I really wish that you can talk to me or Less about it, okay? " Leah offered, looking out in the room.

You nod.

"Im thankful for that you spoke up about it, I love you so much" Leah says, folding her arms tighter around you and you hug her back. "How about some pancakes for breakfast, hm?" your eyes widen and you nod eagerly before jumping up from Leah´s lap and sprinting downstairs, your giggles spreading around the house.

"The last person to the kitchen is a rotten mouse!"

[meritski]

freezing the moment • kinich x gn!reader

“It never snows in Natlan. Does that mean nobody will experience love here?”

It started with a silly sentence you read in a silly book. One’s first love is the person with whom one experiences the year’s first snow, it said.

It was indeed stupid. Your question, and the statement itself.

Yet, when Kinich thought about his mom and dad— he found himself thinking that it might be true after all. 

It was either right or what he longed for wasn’t love. Because the situation at home clearly was not what he desired.

Noticing how the usually quiet boy remained silent, you sighed. Was he bored? Okay, you can try to change the subject a little bit.

“I’ve never heard anyone have a Cryo vision either. Does that mean since we are in the nation of war, there is no place for love…? Ah, Snezhnaya must be a wonderful place. That's probably why it snows a lot there, right, since it's the land of love? I am so jealous.”

That finally made him speak, to your delight. If he hadn't, it might have flustered you— though since it was Kinich, you wouldn't have minded too much.

Or maybe you would have. He was so good in your eyes that you wouldn’t want to be an embarrassment next to him.

“A rumor says that someone named Granny Citlali from Night Wind’s has a Cryo vision.”

Ah, okay! A new topic, one that he chose to talk about too. You can work with that.

“Do you think she would make it snow if we asked? For fun?”

Seeing your excited eyes and hearing the curiosity in your voice, he paused just for a second before shaking his head.

“They say that she is super scary as well.”

Boo! 

“I’ll make her like me then, trust!”

His gaze lingered on you longer than it should. Though you were so busy talking about a character in your book that came off scary, just like the said elderly, but was a huge softie instead— you didn’t notice how his eyes softened.

He trusted you, without any doubts.

Because before you met him, he too had been perceived as intimidating and scary.

So yes, you could definitely make her like you.

Just like you had with him.

As you both grew older, you realized that you had been too carefree back then.

Because now that he was a saurian hunter— no, on top of that; now that he bore the name ‘Malipo’ you didn't see him around much.

Nothing changed between the two of you, of course. But the environment itself changed, unfortunately. And that made a huge difference. Because now your time with him was ten times more precious, maybe a hundred, which means that even every millisecond you spent together should be cherished.

Now, today, it was by pure luck that you guys ran into each other while doing commissions today. It was a rare sight, not that you minded, of course. You truly missed him over the past few days.

Although it was work, you were minding your business, and you knew Kinich was also doing the same. Fitting. The one who wasn’t minding their own business was Ajaw, apparently. Very fitting, indeed.

“Ugh, how long is this going to take? Might I remind you that I have places to be!”

Well, here we go again.

“Oh yeah, what places?”

Kinich's tone made you crack a smile, it was endearing seeing him like this. Since you two never bickered, their odd dynamic always was full of surprises.

While Ajaw was talking about his fans and Kinich reminding him that they are nonexistent, you simply enjoyed the moment.

And it was good while it lasted, you must say— until a hidden domain you stumbled upon ruined the moment.

The wind wasn’t like the warm breeze at the top of the mountains during the sunset; it was cold.

Natlan was never cold. Never.

As soon as Kinich noticed the change of the air, the jacket that had been loosely wrapped around his waist suddenly found its place on your shoulders. His expression was indifferent.

You, on the other hand, were caught off guard. Flinching slightly at the sudden weight, the warmth quickly crept up to your cheeks. To your displeasure, Ajaw noticed this, he mumbled a quiet ‘disgusting’ and vomited some rainbows. (Spoiler: You might want to deal with him once and for all today.)

Kinich wasn’t known for his words; his actions always spoke louder.

It was his silent way of showing he cared, you noted. He really didn’t change, after all. 

While you two walked through the domain, the chilly demeanor of the domain grew even cooler. Well, if you want to look at it from the bright side, the distance between you and the saurian hunter nearly vanished. His arm brushed against yours from time to time. Though both of you were cold, his skin felt warm— weirdly warm.

When you noticed how his nose was a little bit reddish too, you decided to joke about it a bit. He looked cute, you wouldn’t see the famous Malipo like this often. Why waste the chance to play around a little?

Well, the universe had different plans, just as you were going to comment about it; you slipped. Slipped? Yeah, dragging Kinich into the fall too. You were playing around, alright. 

His hand was at the back of your head, protecting it from the harsh impact it could have gotten. And on top of that— no, let’s rephrase this. On top of you, there was Kinich. 

Wow. Way to go.

Embarrassed, you were so ready to apologize but the sudden coldness you felt on your cheek made you stop. 

The saurian hunter’s shoulders stiffened, his hair, one that is highlighted with orange and green, was now painted white. 

It was snowing.

It was snowing, each snowflake delicate and fleeting— just like the moments you two had and still continued to have.

It felt like the time had stopped— in such a way that the snow froze it, just for the two of you. Just as if giving you the chance to treasure it.

His eyes, which looked like the sunrise in the forest, were locked on you. His breath was caught up on his throat, it seemed (since the usual puff of mist didn’t escape from him). And it did make you more nervous.

Your back was getting cold despite his jacket, and also a little bit wet too. Now you realize what you two were walking on was a frozen lake. Can’t blame you for falling, really.

The whole domain was cold as ice, the pounding on your chest made it impossible to feel it. 

It was warm. Being near Kinich was warm. The memories you two shared were warm. His gaze was warm. He was warm, and he was also making you feel warm.

The feelings you harbored for Kinich, were warm. 

It seems like it wasn’t a silly book nor a silly quote after all.

And when his eyes dropped to your lips for a millisecond(one that should be cherished), a sneeze interrupted you two from a distance.

“Achoo.”

Oh, Ajaw. 

𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑ notes!

☆ another work that might get rewritten </3 i swear it sounded better in my head JDHJWJEKFFLES anyway ! ( + not proofread, feel free to correct any mistakes if there is any <: )

☆ i started writing this when it started snowing in the city I live in, it's been 3 years since it last snowed here (there was an albedo event back then, too... guys albedo brainrot is so real that i might drop the draft i've been working on for the past week HDFJWHKFWL), and now the snow has melted haha. great timing to finish the work i guess (,:

☆ i also forgot citlali existed at first ): literally wrote 300 words about "the poeple of the nation of war doesn't have a place for love" theory...

☆ nevermind that, hope you enjoyed it !

[caramelarrowswife]

heyyy love your work! <33

I’m sorry if youre sick and tired of the purecacao/Dark Cacao promps but could I request ancients being invited to the Dark Cacao Kingdom for Choco’s birth/bakening(?) and they all absolutely fall inlove with that little bugger?

With some (not so subtle) Purecacao in the background? Maybe PV adoring Choco to the point of it bordering on fatherly love and Cacao getting so so flustered over it </33

Friends Being Foes

─── ∘°❉°∘ ───

The new Heir to the Dark Cacao Throne had been born; a small warrior with the name Dark Choco Cookie.

It had taken a few days of convincing the very paranoid father, but the Ancient Heroes were finally allowed to visit the little boy.. and by the Witches, did the little boy enjoy the attention.

A/N: not at all sick and tired!! this was such an adorable request, i had a blast writing it hehe :3

─── ∘°❉°∘ ───

The group of five made their way towards Dark Cacao Cookie’s bedroom; the warrior-king made sure he arrived at the cradle first, but this didn’t stop Hollyberry Cookie from getting a hold on the baby first.

“Look at you! You look just like your old man!” Hollyberry said, grinning ear to ear. She held Dark Choco up as if he was a rare gem that needed to be studied in daylight.

Dark Cacao’s hands twitched and he smiled tightly. “Why don’t we put him back to bed-”

Dark Choco babbled something incomprehensible, chubby little hands grabbing at Hollyberry’s face. The queen let out a loud chuckle, handing the baby over to White Lily Cookie.

The gentle lady looked at the small child with curiosity and wonder.

“Hello, small one..” she murmured, softly caressing Dark Choco’s cheek with her thumb. He made small sounds, grabbing for the lily on her head.

 White Lily smiled softly, handing the fragile child over to Golden Cheese Cookie - who was a little less careful.

“Hello there, tiny man,” Golden Cheese cooed. “Oh, look at you, reaching for the shinies - you want that? You wanna have my spear?”

Dark Cacao barely stifled a scream when Golden Cheese flew higher, towards the ceiling, with his baby in her arms. The winged queen laughed loudly at the sheer panic in his eyes.

“Don’t stress it, grandpa!” She said teasingly. “We don’t want to get your blood levels too high!”

“My blood levels are fine! Get down right this instant!” Dark Cacao shouted, his voice a pitch higher than usually. “I’m not joking, Golden Cheese!”

“You never are,” Golden Cheese pouted. “May you be more fun than your daddy, my little treasure..”

Dark Cacao sighed in relief as Dark Choco was brought down again, holding his hands out for his child - until the baby was taken by Pure Vanilla.

Very well, then. Dark Cacao could trust his small son in the hands of a capable man. A man that had caressed his skin at night, a man that had healed his wounds with the tenderness of a lover. Pure Vanilla would be sure to keep his boy safe-

The healer threw Dark Choco into the air, at least four feet towards the ceiling. Dark Cacao could not silence his scream this time as he shouldered his friends aside to catch his (now loudly giggling) baby.

“You’re all mad!” Dark Cacao whisper-shouted. “Vanilla, what the hell?!”

“We do this to Vanillian children,” Pure Vanilla said, a little puzzled about his friend’s extreme reaction. “With a Kingdom high in the sky, babies should learn to overcome a fear of heights immediately after birth.”

“My Kingdom is safely on the ground!” Dark Cacao looked like he might actually get a heart attack. “Pure Vanilla, Dark Choco should under no circumstance be thrown into the air like- like a- I cannot think of a single thing that should be thrown into the air!”

“Baby birds?” Golden Cheese suggested.

Dark Cacao jerked his head to her direction. “What?!”

“Nevermind.” She hovered down to his level, watching as Dark Cacao held his son close to his chest. “He really does look like you, you know. Oh, I just know he’s going to have the exact same grumpy expression!~”

Dark Choco giggled as both Hollyberry and Golden Cheese stared at him with matching grins. Pure Vanilla chose to stand by Dark Cacao’s side, later followed by White Lily as he stared lovingly at the tiny critter.

“May I hold him one more time?” Pure Vanilla murmured. “I won’t do anything bad, I promise.”

Dark Cacao hesitated, but when his eyes met those mismatched ones, he knew it was over for him. He never had been able to say ‘no’ to the kind-hearted healer, after all.

Pure Vanilla held Dark Choco in his arms, murmuring soft words the others couldn’t hear. While the new-born cookie couldn’t understand them, he found them mighty entertaining, and-

“Appa!” Dark Choco babbled. "Papa-!"

A flush crawled up Pure Vanilla’s face, but he wasn’t nearly as red as Dark Cacao was. The king stepped forward, reaching to take his son again. “Okay, that’s enough-”

Dark Choco let out a loud cry, clinging to Pure Vanilla’s white gown with one hand and Dark Cacao’s hanbok with the other. Dark Cacao tried to pry those little fingers off of his clothes, but Dark Choco held on with a vice-like grip.

“Oh, he really is like you!” Hollyberry beamed. “Do you remember when we were children, and your father tried to take that raggedy plushie you loved so much-”

Dark Cacao kicked her shin, hard. It did not take away the fact he was now face-to-face with Pure Vanilla.

“Well, his Royal Highness has spoken,” Pure Vanilla teased, not unkindly. “Brood no longer, my king, for your new partner has arrived!”

Dark Cacao let out a laugh that bordered on hysteria, his face growing redder. He wished the ground would swallow him whole.

“Perhaps Dark Choco remembers Pure Vanilla’s face from all the times you’ve drawn him?” Golden Cheese said.

A look of betrayal was sent her way by Dark Cacao. “The paintings were a secret.”

Pure Vanilla raised an eyebrow and his smile widened. Had he tried to look mischievous, he failed miserably; love and adoration streamed through his very being. “I’d like to see those, Cacao.”

Dark Cacao let out a low, embarrassed groan.

He never should’ve brought them here.

[incorrectmarvelquotesss]

— drunken night —

Warnings: alcohol intoxication, excessive drinking, fluff, sprinkle of angst, pregnancy, allusions to violence, nudity (not sexually), a few suggestive comments

Summary: Jason comes home from a boys night out.

Pairing: Jason Todd x Female Reader from She’s Mine

Word Count: ~4.7k

A/N: I was initially writing a drabble, but I got carried away. So it’s a little longer than expected, but full of cute drunk Jason. Please, feast upon this!

DC M.List || Navigation M.List || MCU M.List

Jason fumbled with his keys, trying to unlock the front door, his coordination impaired by the alcohol. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he managed to open the door and step inside. Roy and Dick followed behind, still thoroughly entertained by the entire situation. They toed off their boots and threw their jackets on a sofa. 

“Careful there, Jaybird. Don’t want you tripping over your own feet now, do we?” Dick drawled out, a little tipsy, but much better than Jason. Jason shot both of them a withering glare before stumbling into the living room. He collapsed onto the couch, groaning as his muscles finally relaxed from the strain of walking. 

“You both are assholes, you know that?” He seethed at them. It was their fault he was drunk anyway—he would never admit it was actually his stubbornness to prove to them he wouldn’t be the first to cut out of the drinking game. 

Roy smirked, unable to resist taking another jab at him. “Yeah, but we’re your assholes, dude. And right now, we’re having the time of our lives watching you stumble about like a drunken buffoon.”

Jason groaned again, closing his eyes. “Thanks for the support. Really feeling the love here,” he grumbled out sarcastically. His head throbbed at the thought of you seeing him like this. 

Dick laughed, unable to hold back his amusement. “Trust me, little bird,” he started with a shit-eating grin as he flopped down to the couch, “this is how we show our love. We lovingly tease and humiliate your drunk ass.”

Roy chuckled, shaking his head. “That’s right, dude. This is just our way of showing we care.” He glanced at the stairs lead for a moment before his gaze flickering back to Jason. “We’re taking the piss out of your state right now because we care. It's called tough love.”

Jason lifted his head just enough to give them a sarcastic smile. “Oh, I feel so loved right now. My heart is just bursting with joy and appreciation.”

“Yeah, Jay. Consider yourself lucky we’re not recording this entire scene for future blackmail purposes,” Dick chimed in, a cheeky grin on his face. 

A floorboard creaked overhead and Jason’s eyes widened as he and the other two men snapped their heads up towards the ceiling. “Please don’t tell me that’s her coming down the stairs...” he muttered, bracing himself for the worst. Dick and Roy turned their attention to the staircase, curious to see what will unfold when you came down at this time of night. 

“Oh, mate, you’re in trouble now,” Dick said with a chuckle, unable to hide his excitement.

Jason groaned, feeling the effects of the alcohol still weighing heavy on him. He tried to sit up a bit straighter on the couch, but it only made his head spin more. “Yeah, I know... I’m screwed.”

You came down to the last step, arms crossed and an unamused expression in your face at the sight of your drunk husband and his tipsy friends. Your hair was in a braid while you wore an old band tee of his to cover your big belly fully and some maternity sweatpants. 

Jason’s eyes widened as he saw you standing at the bottom of the stairs, your arms crossed and a look of annoyance on your face. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, bracing himself for the impending storm. 

Roy snickered, loving every moment of Jason’s discomfort. “Oh, dude, you’re in for it now. The missus doesn’t look too happy, does she?” Roy exchanged a glance with Dick and tilted his head towards the door, a silent plea to leave before you ultimately started your lecture for Jason. 

Dick nodded eagerly, not wanting to be in the middle of a couple’s quarrel. “We should get going,” Dick announced, nodding at you. 

You nodded back, eyes softening slightly at the two. “Do you two have a ride home?” You asked, knowing if Jason was drunk, they’d also be tipsy enough not to drive. 

“Uh, yeah, we’ll be fine. We can call a taxi or something,” Dick replied, standing up from the couch.

“I can—” you started, about to offer to call an uber. 

Dick held up a hand to stop you. “No, no. We don’t want to impose any further. We’ll make our own way home. Besides, we’d hate to further ruin your night any more than we already have.”

You hummed. “Thank you for bringing him home safe,” you murmured, nodding at them. Dick and Roy nodded back, feeling relieved that the tension had eased a bit. 

“No problem. We’ll be sure to keep a closer eye on him next time,” Roy said, giving you a small smile. 

You smiled back slightly. “Be safe, you two.”

Dick and Roy nodded again, grabbing their jackets that they had thrown onto the sofa and heading towards the door. 

“We will, Y/N. Take care,” Dick called over his shoulder as he opened the front door. 

Roy followed close behind, stepping into his boots. “Yeah, we’ll be careful. Thanks again for everything.” And with that, the pair left the house, the door closing softly behind them.

Jason watched in silence as Dick and Roy left, feeling a mix of relief and guilt. He knew he had caused quite a scene in front of them, both at home and at the bar, and he dreaded the thought of them ribbing him relentlessly for the things he had said and done. 

You glanced at him then, hands going to your hips. The movement made the tee stretch across your baby bump and the sight made Jason soften a little. He loved your bump. He loved touching it and talking to the baby. He was almost obsessed with it. 

As you turned your gaze a little sterner, Jason couldn’t help but wince. He knew that look all too well. It was the look that told him he was in for a lecture.

“Why are you so drunk?” You asked, feeling a little irritated at the fact that Jason would drink so much. You wanted him to have fun, but right now he was totally shit-faced. 

Jason looked up at you, feeling a little sheepish under your gaze. “I know, love, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get so drunk,” he replied, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. He knew he had overdone it, and he couldn't deny feeling a bit guilty for letting things get out of hand. 

When you seemed to look unimpressed, he sighed and knew he’d have to come forward with a more sincere apology. 

“I guess the drinks just went down too easily, and before I knew it, I was pretty smashed.” He paused for a moment before adding, “I’m sorry for putting you through that. I know it’s not a great look, coming home like this.”

For some stupid reason, perhaps because of how much you loved him, your eyes softened at his genuine apology. “Stupid,” you muttered as one last word, an insult filled with fondness, before you let a hint of a smile grace your lips. 

Jason couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief wash over him as he saw your features soften even just the tiniest bit. He knew he was lucky to have you in his life and he never wanted to take that for granted. The way you had just called him stupid, but with a hint of affection in your voice, reminded him of the playful banter you two often engaged in.

He couldn’t help but crack a small smile in response. Even though he was in trouble for his drunk behaviour, he couldn’t help but find your affection endearing.

“Yeah, I know I’m a stupid drunk. I just got carried away, I guess. But I promise I won’t do it again,” he said, trying to sound sincere despite the alcohol still coursing through his system.

You sighed, shoulders loosening with the breath escaping you. “Tell me that when you’re sober,” you retorted gently, taking a seat on the sofa beside him. Your hands rested under your belly as you glanced at him. 

Jason chuckled softly, feeling a flutter of affection for you as you sat down next to him. Even though he knew he was still in hot water, he couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort in your presence. 

“Alright, I’ll tell you that when I’m sober,” he said, his eyes meeting yours. “But you know I can’t promise that I won’t have a drink or two again. It’s just... sometimes I need to unwind, y’know?”

You nodded, understanding the need to loosen up after a rough patrol or even a stuffy gala that he had to attend. You smiled slightly and nudged his shoulder with yours. “Just one or two.”

Jason smiled warmly as he felt your shoulder nudge him. The small gesture felt like reassurance; you weren’t angry with him, only concerned and slightly frustrated. 

“Just one or two,” he agreed, holding up two fingers in a mock salute. “I’ll try to stay within my limits.” 

“Good.” You stared at him for a moment, just raking your eyes over his flushed face and disheveled hair, finding it endear. You nodded, shifting slightly so that you could get up without losing your balance due to the bump. “You reek.”

Jason chuckled, knowing that you had a point. “Yeah, I suppose I do.” He rubbed his face with his hands, the smell of alcohol and smoke clinging to his skin and clothes. “I could use a nice hot shower.”

“Maybe not a shower with your jelly legs,” you teased, knowing very well that when Jason was wasted, he often stumbled and tripped over air. 

Jason chuckled weakly, knowing that you were right. Even though he was a highly trained vigilante, when he was this drunk, he couldn’t even walk without stumbling. 

“Yeah, you might have a point there.” He sighed as he looked at you. “Do you think you can help me to the bathroom? I’m afraid I’ll fall headfirst into the toilet unless you help me.”

“Yeah,” you said, nodding at his ask for assistance. He had done this a few times for you when you two had first started dating and you used to come home a little too drunk after a night out with friends. You supposed this was how he felt when he was caring for you; both finding it annoying and endearing. 

You helped him up from the couch. “I’ll run a bath for you, yeah?” You led him to the stairs and then paused, glancing between the stairs and your wobbly husband. “You think you’ll be fine on the stairs?”

Jason looked at the stairs with a mixture of defiance and hesitation. He didn’t want to look weak in front of you—or anyone for that matter, but he knew he wasn’t in the best shape to take on a flight of stairs. 

“Yeah, I think I can manage,” he said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. “Just, uh, keep a hold of me, yeah?” 

You nodded. “Just so you know, I’ll let go of you if I think I’m going to fall with you. I have the little one to think about.”

Jason nodded, sharing your concern for the baby’s safety. "Alright, that’s fair," he said, draping an arm heavily around your shoulders for support. "And don’t worry, I wouldn’t have let you fall."

With your help, Jason began the slow and careful ascent up the stairs. He clung to you and the stairs like a lifeline, his grip tight on your shoulder and the railing. Every step was a strain, his legs feeling like jelly and his head spinning from the alcohol. But Jason made it up the stairs, albeit with a lot of stumbling and muttered curses.

Despite the seriousness of safety, you couldn’t help but find the situation a little amusing; here you were, guiding your drunken husband up the stairs like a wobbly toddler. 

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you reached the top of the stairs and entered the bathroom. “Alright, sit down here,” you instructed, guiding him to the edge of the bathtub. 

Once he was sat, you gently helped him out of his clothes, now a little damp in some places with sweat. 

Despite his inebriated state, Jason tried his best to help you undress him, but it was a clumsy and awkward endeavor. He was grateful for your help, but also felt a bit embarrassed at his lack of coordination. Once Jason was undressed, he sat on the edge of the bathtub, looking up at you with a goofy smile.

You smiled back unconsciously, something that often was merely a result of seeing Jason happy. “What is it?” You asked in a quiet murmur, started to fill the tub with water, adding some epsom salt and lavender oil as well. 

Jason’s drunken smirk grew wider as he watched you prepare the bath, the smell of the soothing oils filling the room. “Nothing, just enjoying the view,” he replied jokingly, his eyes scanning over your form. “You look pretty damn hot, y’know that? No, wait, scratch that, you look absolutely gorgeous. Beautiful. Stunning.”

You chuckled softly, shaking your head fondly as a light wave of heat flushed your cheeks. For as drunk as he was, he was still the same flirt you knew. You didn’t know how he did it, even after three years of marriage, but he always managed to make you flustered. 

Jason let out a satisfied hum, enjoying the sight of you flustered as he complimented you. Even in his drunken state, he couldn’t resist teasing you. He knew just the right things to say to make you squirm and it was a skill he was proud of. 

“See, that's the reaction I was hoping for,” he said, pointing at your flustered state. “You still get all bashful after three years.”

You rolled your eyes playfully and nudged him, turning off the water. “Get in, you flirt.” 

Jason chuckled and slowly stood up, holding onto the edge of the bathtub for support. He stepped into the warm water and sunk down, letting out a sigh of contentment as the heat seeped into his muscles and joints. 

“Ah, this is nice,” he mumbled, his eyes half-closed. “Join me?” He peeked up at you with a smirk plastered to his face. 

You shook your head and sat down on the edge of the tub. “No. You’re drunk.” You tucked a hand under your belly while the other rested on the edge of tub to keep your balance. 

“Damn. Can't blame a man for trying.” Jason pouted playfully, but he knew you were right. Despite his desires, he was in no condition to be intimate with you right now. He leaned back against the bathtub, soaking in the warmth. 

“You're such a buzzkill, you know that?” He joked, the words slurring together slightly. He didn’t blame you for not wanting to get into the tub. If roles were reversed, he wouldn’t have gotten in either. 

You merely hummed as he moved to rest his head against your thigh. Jason closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of his head resting against your thigh. It was a simple but comforting gesture and it made him feel even more relaxed. 

“You know,” he said, his words still slurring slightly. “I don’t deserve you.”

You raised an eyebrow at his unexpected confession. “What makes you say that?” You asked softly, your free hand moving to gently stroke his hair. Jason groaned, enjoying the feel of your hand through his hair. 

“I just... I don’t know. I’m a mess, y’know? I screw up all the time. I'm always away on patrols and missions, I've got a stubbornness problem, and I'm hardly a ray of sunshine.” He paused for a moment, then added, “You deserve someone better than me.”

You sighed softly, your hand still stroking his hair. “Jason, you may have your flaws, but we all do. And you’re not a mess, you’re just human. You do what you have to do for your job, and sometimes it's hard on you.” 

You kissed his temple, whispering the rest against his skin. “And as for someone better than you, I don’t want anyone else; I want you.” 

Jason opened his eyes to look up at you, his gaze searching your face. He could see the sincerity in your eyes and it made his heart ache. 

“I just feel like I’m a disappointment,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m supposed to be the strong one, the protector. But here I am, drunk and needing you to take care of me again.” 

You leaned down, gently placing a kiss on his damp forehead. “You are strong, but that doesn’t mean you have to be strong all the time. Everyone needs help and support sometimes, even you.”

You continued, “As for being a protector, that doesn’t mean you can never show any weakness. You may be a vigilante, but you’re also human, and humans make mistakes and stumbles. And I’m here for you, to pull you back up when you stumble.” 

You rubbed your belly. “We’ll always be here.”

Jason’s eyes softened at your words and the gesture of rubbing your belly. He placed a hand on top yours, feeling the warmth of it and the knowledge that there was a baby growing inside you. 

“Yeah,” he said faintly. “You and the little one. You two... you’re my everything.”

“Yeah.” You smiled, cupping his cheek. “And you’re our everything.” 

You wanted to take every little self-deprecation thought of his and drown it in your reassuring words and sweet kisses, but you knew it would take a lifetime to do so. The best you could do was just tell him. Remind him why you chose him. 

Instead you settled on changing subject for now. “Boy or girl?” You asked with a glint in your eyes. 

Jason looked up at you, feeling the warmth of your hand on his stubbled cheek. The change of subject caught him off guard, but he appreciated it nonetheless. He pondered the question for a moment, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. 

“Well, I don’t think we'll know for a while,” he said with a shrug. “But if I had to guess... I think it’s gonna be a girl.” 

You raised a brow, silently asking why. 

Jason chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I don’t know, just a feeling I have,” he said with a shrug. “I think it’s gonna be a little girl who’s as beautiful and strong as her mother.”

“And if it’s a boy?” You asked, not expecting anything but the best from him. You knew all he wanted was a healthy and happy baby. So did you. 

Jason smiled, a warm and genuine smile, at your question. “If it’s a boy, then he’s gonna be a little hellraiser, just like me,” he joked, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “And I'll teach him everything I know about the world and how to take care of himself. But most importantly, I’ll teach him how to treat a woman right.”

He took your hand in his, his touch soft and gentle. "But no matter if it's a boy or a girl, they're going to have the best mother in the world. And that's all that matters in the end."

“And father,” you said, tugging his locks gently to emphasize your point. 

Jason chuckled softly, his head moving with the tugging of his hair. “Yeah, yeah. Of course, the best father in the world too.” He looked up at you, a small grin on his face. “Can I be honest with you for a moment?”

“Of course. Always.” You stroked his cheek as you reached for a wash cloth with your other hand. 

Jason sighed, his eyes closing briefly as he leaned his cheek into your touch. “I’m scared,” he admitted, his voice quiet. “Terrified, actually. I don’t know anything about being a father. I had a terrible upbringing, and I’m afraid I’ll screw this up.”

You hummed, rinsing the cloth and then gently trailing it over the expanse of his back, not even blinking at the scars you had seen so many times that littered his body. 

“Can I be honest with you, baby?” You murmured, waiting for his response. 

Jason nodded, his eyes still closed as he relished the feel of the cloth gliding over his back. “Of course, sweetheart,” he murmured back, his voice low and rough.

“I think you’re worried for no reason,” you whispered, pressing the cloth into his skin a little firmer to drive in your point. “You’re attentive, caring, and responsible. You love with all you got and that’s what matters. Maybe you can’t be home all the time, but the quality of the time you do spend with us is what matters.”

Jason opened his eyes, his gaze settling on your face as you spoke. Your words sunk in, each one chipping away at the self-doubt that had settled in the back of his mind. You were right. He was more than capable of being a good father. The fear of screwing up was natural, but he had to trust himself and his abilities to do right by you and the baby. 

“You always know what to say,” he murmured, his voice tinged with an edge of amazement and affection. 

You grinned. “That’s what happens when I know your brain, Mr. Todd, and, as your wife, I’m supposed to know what to say.”

Jason chuckled weakly at that, his shoulders shaking slightly in the warm water. “Supposed to, huh?” he said, a small smirk playing at his lips. “Well, I’m glad you do. I swear, you’re the only one who can put up with me and my bullshit.” 

You put away the wash cloth with a gentle smile before grabbing his shampoo and pouring a decent amount on your hand. “I love you,” you murmured before massaging it into his scalp. 

Jason closed his eyes again, the feeling of your fingers massaging the shampoo into his scalp making him sigh in contentment. “I love you too,” he murmured back, his voice low and raspy. As you continued to rub his scalp, he couldn't help but let out a soft moan, the mixture of the heat and your touch lulling him into a state of blissful relaxation.

As you worked through his hair, you noticed how tension seemed to seep out of his body. His shoulders relaxed, and the lines on his forehead seemed to soften. You smiled softly, loving the effect you had on him.

“Feeling better?” You asked quietly, your fingertips tracing lazy circles on his scalp.

Jason hummed in agreement, his head lolling back against the edge of the tub. “Much better.” He opened his eyes briefly to look up at you, a lazy smile gracing his features. “You have magic hands, you know that?”

You chuckled softly. “Is that so?” You continued massaging his scalp for a few more moments before rinsing the shampoo from his hair. The warm water cascaded down over his head, the suds running in rivulets down his neck and back.

As you finished rinsing the shampoo out, you noticed his gaze was on your belly, his hand moving to rest on the small bump.

Jason’s eyes were drawn to the swell of your belly, his hand reaching up to rest gently on top of it. His touch was tender, almost reverent. It was clear that he was already feeling protective of the life growing inside you.

"You're starting to show a little bit more now," he commented softly, his finger tracing a gentle circle around your belly button.

You hummed, feeling the slight swell of your belly under his hand. It was a constant reminder of the life growing inside you, and it made your heart flutter every time you thought about it. 

“Yeah,“ you murmured, your hand covering his. “Won’t be able to hide it much longer with these old shirts of yours.” 

Jason chuckled, his eyes shifting to the oversized shirt you were currently wearing. It was one of his old ones, the fabric faded from years of wear and tear. 

“I like seeing you in my clothes,” he said, his fingers lightly tracing your hip. 

You hummed. 

“Makes me think about what you're wearing beneath them,” he added, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

You laughed then, flicking his nose and getting up carefully to make sure your balance didn’t falter with the growing weight of the baby. 

Jason chuckled at the playful flick on his nose, his eyes watching you as you stood up, carefully making sure you didn't lose balance. “Careful there, sweetheart,” he said, his hand resting on your hip briefly to steady you. 

You could see the weariness in his eyes now, the exhaustion slowly taking over as the effects of the alcohol wore off. He looked tired, both physically and emotionally. 

“Looks like the alcohol is wearing off,” you murmured, your hand tracing his shoulder.

Jason nodded weakly in agreement, his head lolling back against the edge of the tub. “Yeah... it's catching up to me now,” he said, his voice hoarse and tired. “I’m gonna pass out any second, I think.”

You smiled. “Let me grab your towel and get you dried up.” 

Jason grunted in assent, his eyes fluttering open as he let you attend to him. He was too tired to protest, and secretly he relished the feeling of your touch, tender and loving, as you dried him off with a soft towel.

You draped the towel over his shoulders, gently patting his back and chest dry. Jason leaned into your touch, his body heavy and weary. You could see the exhaustion etched in the lines of his face, the weight of the world and his demons catching up with him.

“Come on, baby,” you said, grabbing his bicep and helping him. “Let’s get you in some cozy pyjamas and then in bed.”

Jason nodded, allowing you to help him out of the tub. He wobbled a bit on his feet, clearly still feeling the effects of the alcohol, but he managed to stay upright with your support.

“Cozy pyjamas, huh?” he mumbled dryly as you helped him walk to the bedroom. 

You chuckled softly. “I suppose it would just be a soft shirt and sweatpants.”

“Probably more comfortable, anyway,” he agreed, his arm looped around your shoulders for support. He shuffled to the bed and collapsed onto it with a weary sigh, his body immediately sinking into the mattress. 

You quickly grabbed a pair of grey sweatpants and an old, soft t-shirt, helping him into the clothing. He was practically half-dead at this point, barely able to move on his own. 

Once he was dressed, you helped him under the covers, tucking him in snugly before making your way around to your side of the bed. You settled into bed next to him, the sheets cool against your skin. You could hear Jason’s ragged breathing, a sign of just how tired he was.

Jason grunted in appreciation as you tucked him in, his eyes already drooping shut. He was exhausted, his body desperate for rest.

You reached out, gently stroking his hair, letting your fingers trail through the messy, damp locks. Jason let out a soft moan, his head instinctively tilting towards your touch. He may have been drunk and exhausted, but he still craved your affection.

“I’m right here, baby,” you whispered, your hand continuing to stroke his hair. “Just sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Jason mumbled something incoherent, his words slurred with sleepiness. But you could tell he was comforted by your presence. He shifted closer to you, his head finding a place on your shoulder and a hand on your stomach protectively as he finally succumbed to sleep. 

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[amara-scott]

Never been loved.

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x Slytherin!female Reader Tags: Angst, Angst, Angst

Prompt: "You've never been loved, I can tell."

It would have been a beautiful spring day in the courtyard of hogwarts. But standing before Mattheo—you knew this was possibly a turning point about to happen. Your best friend. Having built that trusting relationship with him was hard. On both sides. But you stuck together and knew each other well.

But now the tension between you and Mattheo is thick, like a storm ready to break. You can feel it in the air, the unspoken words that hang between you both, electrifying the space. And yet, the weight of it all crashes down with the finality of your words, words that you didn't even realize held so much truth. "You've never been loved, I can tell." You don’t know why you said it, why the words slipped from your lips like a confession, an accusation. But the moment they leave your mouth, they settle over him like a shadow, dark and unavoidable.

You watch him, frozen, as his gaze falters, as if a part of him dies with your words. His shoulders drop, and for the briefest moment, he looks almost… human. Vulnerable. The walls he so carefully constructed around himself seem to crack, and for the first time, you see the weight he’s been carrying—the one he’s never let anyone see.

But Mattheo doesn’t speak. Not right away. His lips tremble, just slightly, as if the words he wants to say are too much to bear. His breathing is shallow, uneven. It’s a quiet sort of pain, the kind that threatens to swallow him whole, but he refuses to let it. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mutters, the harshness in his voice an attempt to mask the tremor you caught. His jaw clenches, his eyes narrow, but they can’t hide the flicker of something deep within them.

You wish you could take back the words, erase the hurt you’ve caused him, but you can't. The damage has been done, and now all you can do is watch him retreat behind that mask again.

“You don’t know me,” he snaps, cutting your thoughts off. The rawness in his tone pulls at your chest, makes your heart ache for him in a way you hadn’t expected. He’s breaking, but he won’t let you see it. His walls go back up, taller and colder than before, as he presses his lips together, trying to maintain control.

“You don’t know my name,” he continues, but it’s not the name he’s referring to. It’s something deeper, something that has been built over years of pressure, expectations, and burdens no one should ever bear.

You reach for him, words forming on your tongue, but they choke you as he takes a step back. The tears that threaten to spill seem to freeze in your throat. You want to apologize, to explain yourself, but the words are too heavy, the apology too fragile.

He shakes his head then, and you feel the weight of his emotions like a physical blow. “No,” he says, voice cracking. “You don’t have the right to talk about me. Talk about love. You don’t know anything about me.” His voice raises, and you flinch, a tiny part of you bracing for the anger that you know is coming. But then—then his eyes soften, and a single tear escapes, rolling down his cheek, tracing the path of all the years of grief he’s kept locked away.

The world tilts as you see that tear. It shatters everything you thought you knew about him. The bravado, the indifference—it all crumbles. He’s not invincible. He’s not the cold, untouchable boy he’s shown everyone.

You want to reach out, to take his face in your hands and promise him that it doesn’t have to be like this, but the fear that grips you—fear of what he’ll do, of what this moment will mean—paralyzes you.

When he speaks again, his voice is low, but it cuts through you like a knife. “I think it’s best if we part ways from now on.” The words hang in the air, and for a moment, everything goes still. The wind dies, the distant sounds of the castle fade. His voice is the only thing that matters now.

Before you can process what’s happening, he’s turning away from you, walking toward the castle with a speed that leaves you breathless, leaves you empty. You stand there, a hollow ache settling in your chest.

Your feet move before your mind catches up, and you grab his arm, forcing him to stop. “Mattheo, no—don’t say that.” But he doesn’t even look at you. His body stiffens, his hand brushes yours off as if it’s a weight he can’t bear.

“I’m only saying what you would expect of me. Your image of me is quite apparent. Since you know me so well.” His words are cruel, but they are truth. And it cuts deeper than anything he’s said before. You step back, your heart sinking with the realization that he’s right.

With one last glance over his shoulder, he’s gone, leaving you standing in the shadows of the evening, alone.

Days pass. You bury yourself in your studies, pretending like it doesn’t matter. You let the ache settle in your bones, telling yourself that you’re stronger than this, that you’re better off without him. But every time you close your eyes, you see him—his face, the way his eyes softened for the briefest moment before he pulled away from you, the tear that marked the end of everything.

Pansy finds you in the library, but even she can see the storm brewing inside you. She drags you out, forces you to confront what you’ve done, and somehow, you find yourself standing at the threshold of the common room, looking at Mattheo across the room.

You stand frozen at the entrance to the common room, your breath shallow, heart pounding. The noise around you seems to fade into a dull hum as you lock eyes with Mattheo. He’s sitting there, looking as casual as ever, but there’s something in his gaze that stops you cold—something colder than you’ve ever seen before. It’s like he’s trying to shut himself off from you, a wall rising in the space between you that feels miles wide.

Pansy’s grip on your sleeve is the only thing keeping you tethered to the present, but even her silent pressure on your arm doesn’t make your feet move. She knows what’s going on in your head, even if you’re too caught up in the chaos to say it.

Mattheo’s face remains unreadable as his eyes flicker between the fireplace and the others in the room, but the tension in the air is thick. You can’t tell if he’s angry, hurt, or simply indifferent—but the chill in his expression tells you enough. It’s the same kind of look he’s given you every time you’ve pulled away, each time you’ve said something wrong, like you’ve been a weight dragging him down.

“I think I should go,” you mutter to Pansy, your voice barely louder than a whisper. You can feel your hands trembling, the nervousness creeping up your spine.

Pansy doesn’t let go of your sleeve. Instead, she gently pulls you forward, her usual playful tone gone, replaced with a sharp, no-nonsense edge. “No. You’re not running away this time. Not from this.”

Your throat tightens, and for a moment, you feel like you might suffocate under the weight of it all—the fight, the guilt, the fear that he’ll never forgive you. But Pansy is already moving, leading you towards the fire where the others are seated. The firelight flickers in your eyes as you step forward, your body feeling heavy, like you’re walking through quicksand.

Mattheo doesn’t look up right away, but when he does, you feel the full force of his gaze. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t ask you how you’re doing or what you’ve been up to. It’s like the space between you has grown into something vast and impenetrable, and no words can bridge that gap. You wonder if that’s what you deserve after what you said, after what you did.

“You don’t have to do this,” Pansy says softly, but there’s a firmness beneath her words. “But if you don’t, you’ll never know if things could be fixed.”

You can’t breathe for a moment. Everything in you screams to just leave, to hide away again, but you know she’s right. You’ve never been good at facing what you’ve done. But if you leave now, you might lose him forever. And you can’t do that.

You stop in front of Mattheo, the words stuck in your throat. For a long moment, you don’t know where to start. It feels like you’ve already said everything you could say, yet nothing at all. But it’s different now. You’re standing here, staring at him, and for the first time in a long time, you’re not running.

"Can we- talk?" You don't hear your own words as you speak and hold your breath while you wait, still contemplating if you could make a run for it—but Pansy is right. Mattheo doesn't spare you a glance as he simply stands up and walks past you, toward a secluded corner in the common room, two armchairs next to each other, a dim lit candle and tall bookshelves rising to the ceiling. You join him as he sits, fiddling with my robe until you take a deep breath, finally looking up at him.

“I—I’m sorry.” The words feel like they’ve been stuck in your chest for so long. You swallow hard, voice cracking slightly. “I never meant to hurt you.”

He stares at you in silence, his jaw tightening, but there’s something there now—a flicker of recognition in his eyes, something that tells you he’s listening. Not because he has to, but because he wants to. You don’t know if that’s a good thing, but it’s a start.

“I know I fucked up. I don’t know what I was thinking, but I—” You pause, unsure of what to say next, your chest tightening with the weight of all the things you should have said before. “I care about you, Mattheo. More than I’ve ever cared about anyone.”

He doesn’t speak for a long while, and for a moment, it feels like the world has frozen around you both. But then, slowly, his lips part. His voice is low, almost like it’s coming from somewhere deep inside him, a place he’s been hiding for too long.

“You don’t have to keep apologizing.” His gaze is soft, almost vulnerable, and it shakes you to your core. “You don’t have to say anything you think I want to hear.”

“Then what do you want to hear?” you ask, almost desperately. “Because I don’t know how to fix this.”

“You don’t have to fix it. Just… be here. With me. No more walls.”

Your heart beats faster at his words. It’s not perfect, it’s not the answer you hoped for, but it’s something. Something you can work with.

And when he stands, taking a small step toward you, you feel the knot in your chest loosen just a little bit, so you stand as well. His arms, warm and familiar, slide around your shoulders, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you don’t feel so alone.

“Let’s not do this again,” he murmurs against your hair, pulling you close as you clutch his dress shirt, shutting your eyes tightly.

And you nod, knowing that no matter how long it takes, you’ll keep trying. You’ll keep showing up, even when the storm inside you feels too strong to bear.

For him. For you.

For what you both deserve.

[yanderecrazysie]

Bad Choices (Yandere Sakusa)

Requested on Quotev

Title: Bad Choices

Pairings: Sakusa Kiyoomi x F!Reader

WARNINGS: yandere themes, bullying, college AU

You were finally going to get away.

Away from your family, that old cramped house, your crappy school, and, best of all, him.

Sakusa was somewhat popular at your old school, at least to those who cared about sports. He was a germaphobe but, ironically, couldn’t have been more nasty of a person in your eyes. 

He had never been nice to you- outright ignoring you in your first year, even when you tried to be friendly. The second year, he started to make snide remarks and bump into you on purpose. Third year? He made your life hell.

Snide comments turned to outright insults, little bumps turned to full-out pushing you down... He stuffed you into a locker and left you there overnight. He took an upskirt photo of you without your knowledge and placed printed out copies all over the school walls. He dumped a full cafeteria trash can over your head.

He made your life miserable with his cruelty… but now, he wouldn’t be able to. You were going to a small university in a far-away city. There was no way he’d run into you there.

Or so you thought.

—---------------------------------

You were in a rush to get to your next class, head down as you ran with your books in hand. Unsurprisingly, not paying attention to where you were going was a bad idea, and you ran face first into someone, spilling books everywhere.

“I’m so sorry!” you gasped, picking the books up, “I wasn’t looking-”

You stopped when you caught sight of the person you had run into. Of course, out of everyone in the world, you had crashed into Sakusa.

“Why are you here?” you demanded to know. 

“I go to this university,” Sakusa replied. Not in a mean way, but matter-of-factly with a hint of an eagerness that left you confused and more than a little concerned.

He was undeniably Sakusa- the face mask, curly black hair, and tell-tale beauty marks- but he had a softer expression on his face, one you’d never seen before. Usually, he had a cruel look in his eyes before he started to torment you, but that expression didn’t seem to be there today.

Still, that didn’t mean you trusted him. You scrambled to pick up the last book and tried to run past, cutting the conversation short, but Sakusa grabbed ahold of your sleeve, stopping you from running off.

“What do you want?” you snapped.

“I was wondering,” Sakusa brought up a hand to rub at the back of his neck, as though he was embarrassed, “Do you want to go on a date?”

You stared blankly at him for a moment before you started to laugh. Not an amused laugh, but a hysterical “are-you-kidding-me” laugh. You couldn’t believe the words had come out of his mouth.

Surely, this was some kind of terrible joke he was trying to pull. Otherwise, he had to be insane to suggest such a thing.

“What’s the trick to that?” you snarled, “I show up and you dump a bucket of trash over my head?”

“Huh?” Sakusa had the audacity to look surprised, “No, I wouldn’t do that.”

“Uh, yeah, you would,” you snapped, “In fact, you did. Twice.”

Sakusa raised his arms in a sort of shrug, “Why don’t we put the past behind us?”

Fury surged through you, “What? You want me to forget that you were a garbage excuse for a human being and go on a date with you?”

“Listen,” Sakusa said bashfully, “I’ve liked you since our first year of high school. I just didn’t know how to show it.”

“That’s putting it lightly,” you said sharply, “Well, you dug your own grave, so lie in it. I’d rather die than go on a date with you.”

Sakusa let go of your sleeve, “You don’t mean that.”

“I meant every single word,” you told him truthfully, “Now, I have to go to class. Don’t ever talk to me again.”

You stormed off to your apartment. You were already too late to go to class on time and you didn’t feel like learning about molecules anymore.

You didn’t notice Sakusa following you.

—-----------------------------

CRASH

A sudden shattering sound woke you up. You sat up straight in bed and immediately started groping for your phone. It wasn’t on the nightstand, you realized with a sinking feeling, which meant you had accidentally left it in your purse on the dresser.

You carefully got up and tried to run across your bedroom to the dresser, but you were blinded by the light from a flashlight. You grabbed your purse and swung it at the intruder, knowing it would do nothing to actually protect you. But if you could only distract them for a moment…

“Ow!” came a familiar voice after your purse connected with their face. The light flicked on and you were horrified by what you saw.

Sakusa held up a pistol, trained on your heart. His normally-perfect hair was plastered to his forehead and he looked somewhat crazed. A drop of sweat rolled down his temple, merging with the white medical mask still on his face.

“Sakusa?” your voice shook as hard as your body, “What are you doing?”

“You said you’d rather die than go on a date with me,” Sakusa replied calmly, “I want to know if that’s true…”

Sakusa took the safety off.

“Now, make your choice.”

[forestdeath1]

Well i wanted to make a post, but then I saw this addition, so here we go. Not to argue!

I can see Sirius as a sub, but with James, and the one I can’t see as submissive is actually James. I mean I kinda get your points and I thought the same, but when I put them in context, I was like “oh wow, ok guys…”. That was unexpected haha

Even though I’m always like “being a dom/sub doesn’t correlate with your character” (tho it kinda does, just not in the “if someone is dominant and assertive irl, they must be a dom in bed” way), I was still drawn to that idea of Sirius being a dom BECAUSE I see him as way more independent and therefore, more dominant in relationships than any of them. Even though we all know real cases of people being more on the dom side irl (ew that sounds weird haha) but loving to be dominated in bed, I was still like “NOOOO WAY! Sirius is a dom. And a top”. But then I changed my mind when I put the characters in context.

My main points are:

1)I’m not going to extrapolate this onto a 24/7 d/s dynamic. I just can’t see that working for any of them. If someone wants to do that with them, I’m not judging at all!!!!! You do you. But I just don’t see Sirius wanting a lifestyle dynamic in any form, so I can’t see Sirius either being on a leash or putting one on someone outside of a short scene

2) I genuinely don’t think they’d be that bdsm-ish in general. Tbh I see all of them as more on the vanilla side than on the power exchange side. (I kinda have my own perspective on “vanilla”, def not in an offensive way, to me everything without power exchange leans towards “vanilla”).

3) And that’s where everything else comes from:

Sirius is super independent, almost to an extreme, and kinda assertive — but not exactly dominant in the sense of taking control in people’s lives — he actually deeply respects others freedom of choice and autonomy. BUT at the same that’s exactly what makes him come across as dominant. Yet deep down, as Ive always said, he has this insecurity, this feeling of not being enough, of not being worthy of love. He doesn’t really care what people think about him, but when he loves someone, he (esp in tough moments) always feels like he’s not enough and needs to be useful to be loved.

I think it’s easier for him to be a dom and a top with people he doesn’t have strong feelings for. At the very least, he knows a lot of people expect a good dom and a good top (tbh I don’t think he’d be all that kinky on his own). He understands what people want and he can be a good dom.

And I can totally see him in that service “top” position with Bella. I see Bella as a dom with strong submissive kinks (dominant “bottom” and dom masochist) but she can’t and doesn’t want to give up control.

At the same time, I just can’t see him as a sub with just anyone. He simply can’t let himself go. He barely trusts anyone completely. Truly giving up control for people like him isnt just about kink — it’s also about having that immense trust in their dom and the deepest respect for them.

But James? Completely different story. James feels a little rigid in how he sees things. And even though I think he’d be more easygoing and even a little “submissive” in a relationship (he wouldn’t mind, even enjoy it), I can absolutely see him taking control in bed. Maybe not right away, but that’s his thing and he’s good at it. He enjoys it , especially seeing someone he deeply respects, someone who doesn’t submit to anyone, actually submit to him. And Sirius? Maybe he’d get off on discovering that feeling of submission with James

So yeah, I don’t see this as some core part of Sirius or something he always knew about himself. More like something that could develop over time or something the right dom could bring out in him

Once again — I’m not here to judge anyone’s headcanons, and I see the reasoning behind the “100% dom/100% sub” Sirius takes, I’m just sharing my perspective on him. More vanilla in general, a top and dom with everyone, a service top w Bella and a bottom sub w James

sorry but i don't see sirius as being submissive in bed. we will have to politely agree to disagree. he's not the obedient dog. do not put a collar on that dog. bc even if he were being submissive ~sexily~ (which i doubt he would), his partner would be like, 'ok if i'm the dom here, why does it still feel like he's telling me exactly what to do?'

[velvetvexations]

I've said this before but I'll say it again: "Are you AMAB intersex or AFAB intersex" is the new "are you girl nonbinary or boy nonbinary". If we get asked that one more time...

Like no actually we aren't going to disclose the label violently forced on us to erase our intersex identity, that might have led to *actual* genital mutilation as a baby (our known variation tends to show up in puberty or even later, so slightly less likely for us but not impossible given how unclear our early life history is and that we suspect a possible additional intersex variation might be co-occuring), that DID lead to precocious puberty and being put on a med to delay it that increases our chances of osteoporosis significantly, that led to us being manipulated and coerced as an adult into hormonal birth control that made us more dysphoric and suicidal, all to suppress traits we weren't even *allowed* to realize were actually super euphoric, that we ended up going on HRT to encourage???

Like no, you don't get to demand to know a label so you can assign your idea of our life experiences to us, speaking over and for us the exact same way our doctors and parents and others have done for us our whole lives, so you can determine if we're "basically a perisex cis woman who wants to feel special appropriating transfemininity", "basically a perisex transmasc theyfab who wants to feel special and oppressed appropriating transfemininity and invading trans women's spaces", "basically a perisex cis man appropriating and profiting from transfemininity" or "a poor confused trans woman with internalized transmisogyny who is simultaneously a danger to our community because she refuses to acknowledge her AMAB identity (despite that we treat trans women and fema who do use AMAB/male terminology as dangerous betrayers for conflating transfemininity with maleness while simultaneously insisting only people assigned male can be transfem) and a poor misguided lost lesbian who needs us to tell her who she truly is".

Yes actually, I am obscuring our AGAB on purpose, because you can't be trusted with it. No one else gets to use it as a bludgeon against us ever again. You have neither earned my trust nor the privilege of knowing my trauma. Even aside from the intersexism of "but are you basically a female or basically a male", I am a transneufemmasc cistrans AND isogender intersex system who is a changeling endel/faekin, whose genderfluidity is the most cis part of our fundamentally faegender experience, who is both a trans woman and a trans man. You don't get to know where on the spectrum of genital structures our dick-clit falls, nor which out of labia or scrotum that structure has trended towards, nor what gametes we produce, nor whether we have an additional hole (or how deep it goes, or whether it ends in a cervix, or a uterus is present), nor what hormonal cycle we most closely align with or what our dominant hormone even is, nor... well, you get the picture. Well, and what medical transition steps we are pursuing.

The people who do get to know those things are the ones who have repeatedly proven they won't use that as a weapon, who won't take the knife we're using to prep ingredients to share and stab us right in our existing scars. They're the ones that celebrate and worship the ambiguity and spaces in between, the temple to liminality and unceasing change that our body both forms naturally and has been further shaped to further reveal that divinity, like a gemstone cut perfectly to reveal that its color is born of its impurities and that its inclusions hold the memories of what it once was and hope of what it may one day become in the unceasing rock cycle.

We are intersex. We wrested that label from the people who tried to covertly kill us by not standing in the way of our body's deterioration despite having sworn an oath to; and it was also a gift from people similarly hurt, welcoming us in as family. The people who treat that as a malicious decision, to sneakily predate on and invade "(trans) women's spaces" as an "outsider" despite that we are trans women, have already caused us to make the decision to talk about the violence done against us in only the vaguest, most roundabout terms, have closed off memories of our past self/ves from being shared, all just so the people most supposed to accept us won't either force us to cut pieces of ourselves off just to fit into their narrow mold or cast us out into the cold or both.

They will neither take nor get more from us. We are not, nor have we ever been, male nor female. We are intersex. We have been assigned intersex by our community and thus have assigned it to ourselves as a reaffirmation of that every time someone attempts to bleed us back into a farcical illusion of perisex identity.

"Well I think that all makes you [whatever AGAB they can most use to still attempt violence against us with a less precise weapon]"

(Reponse to quoted person) Oh, shut up, don't you have either bioessentialist obsession over the penile male-assigned nature of, or gender essentialist obsession of the inherent helpless frail victimhood of, transfemininity, to write thousands of words that say nothing about?

All very, very well said anon. <3

[hgb94]

Fun Nein Quotes: CR2E4

Caleb: This man in the boat has seen all of you who are supposed to be under house arrest, so we cannot have him talking to the authorities. Nott: Should we kill him? Fjord: I have a good feeling that this guy is a man of upstanding nature. I’m sure he’ll keep it to himself. Caleb: Oh, that’s very trusting.

Fjord: It might do for you to apologize. Beau: Sorry. Jester: Sorry for what, Beau? Beau: Sorry for choking you with my stick. Nott: And I'll never do it again? Beau, rolling her eyes: And I'll never do it again.

Matt: Make a deception check. Sam, confidently: Zero.

Matt, watching Sam pour himself a drink below the table: Is that goblin pissing in my court?

Yasha: I didn't want to be caught in a small and confined space and then that ended up happening. Jester: How long have you been in there? Yasha: Immediately after I ran.

 Yasha: I mean, I'll say it, I don't know if you will, but I think that little girl is creepy. Yasha: I thought you were Nott, the Brave. Nott: Oh, there's no comma. I'm just Nott the Brave.

Fjord: Is there anywhere we should stay away from on our travels Caleb: You know, I wouldn’t go west, maybe. Nott: I’m told east is bad too. There’s monsters. Caleb: Yeah and they’re pretty terrible in the north. That’s no secret. Jester: So we go south? Nott: Oh no, not south.

Jester: Life does need things to live. Molly: That's a stupid phrase, who said that? Caleb: That doesn’t make any sense at all. I mean, it does but it blatantly obvious and simplistic.

Beau: Oh god, I'm sorry, I just have this burn in my butt from all the smoke you just blew up my ass.

Nott: It doesn’t hurt to be nice sometimes. Beau: I mean, it can, though. Nott: Well it hurts you.

Nott: You're so mysterious. Yasha: I have things that I need to do. Nott: Name one.

Nott: Fjord, something in me says that, for some reason, you should be the one who tells the horses and wagon to go. Fjord: That is mighty considerate of you, Nott. Are you sure you don’t want to take a crack at it? Nott: I could take a crack at it. The wagons be hitched, hee-haw. Fjord: Use your diaphragm. Really get a yee-haw, get in there. Nott: Saddle up your doggies, hee-haw. Fjord: One more time, on the count of three. One, two, three. Nott: Yee-haw!

[baphometsss]

(i was gonna send this in an ask but it got too long lol sorry) @mythalism re: your tags i'm not esp into the idea of the madonna complex re: mythal bc i think, like a lot of freudian ideas, it's insufficient at best and downright harmful at worst

like YES he did put her on a pedestal and yes that's part of the madonna complex, but i think it kind of does solas a disservice when it comes to his intellect bc his thinking is not really black and white enough for that imo. i think he was deluded about her but that was mainly borne from extreme devotion, and that level of devotion can only come from someone who is deeply emotionally unfulfilled

i think it's a lot more likely that he grew to distrust so many people during the war that the only person he really felt he could trust was mythal. mythal used him and kept him on a string so she could use his intellect as a weapon. he was a tool that she believed to be obedient and unconditionally loyal to her. then she went and betrayed him too, which was too much for him to accept, because it meant that he really couldn't trust anyone at all, and that screwed him up majorly and 'broke' him.

unfortunately it's similar to a really common thing that men do w/their emotions irl. i'm not trying to make a 1:1 comparison here because the context is wildly different, but we know that the ancient elves were highly emotional beings so i think it tracks. men have this culture of being emotionally shut off from their friends because vulnerability is seen as a weakness, so they put all their emotional vulnerability into their romantic and family relationships w/women. they see women as the kind of epitome of emotional vulnerability, so they unload on them in this really unhealthy way that leads to more emotional turmoil bc it's just too much. they bottle things up and don't share it with any of their male friends, and so they overwhelm the women in their lives with their emotional needs. when that woman inevitably fails to be able to meet them, she falls off the pedestal and she turns into the awful she-devil for not being there for him. or god forbid she has needs of her own that take precedent or are put on him to fulfil bc that's not allowed for someone with no autonomy. it is partly madonna complex but there's a lot more to it on the guy's part too.

like i said it's not a 1:1 comparison bc we're talking about a war and a genocide and mythal was probably never as 'good' as solas wants to remember her being, but it really makes me think of that. rather than toxic masculinity however it's a matter of repeated betrayals and traumas that fosters his behaviour re: mythal. solas didn't have anyone he could trust with his most intimate thoughts and feelings like he once did with mythal and other spirits long passed, and he's desperately clinging to that relationship bc his ability to trust has been broken so completely and he can't handle the trauma and guilt of the war alone. and ofc unlike mythal and the evanuris, solas holds a LOT of guilt about the titans and the blight. so no matter how much she screwed him over, she always stayed on that pedestal bc the alternative (dealing with it alone) was so much worse. (there's also the fact that mythal understood him as wisdom unlike the others who brought out the worst in him, and that mirror is important for him to retain his nature as wisdom and not pride, the latter of which which his trauma pushes him towards more and more)

essentially he's put all his emotional eggs in one basket regarding mythal. by the time inquisition rolls around, he's also been betrayed by his general and close friend, and he really doesn't trust anyone at all, so he's regressing even further. it makes the romance/friendship all the more special because the inquisitor shows him that it's only by opening yourself up to trust other people (the key being multiple people) again that you can really start to heal and move on instead of wallowing alone forever in your pain and grief.

The whole 'refuge for Mythal' thing is really interesting bc it shows that Solas really saw Mythal as being on his side when it couldn't be more obvious that she enjoyed the power of being queen of the Evanuris. He calls it a 'struggle' in the regret memory, but I don't think she was struggling as much as he thinks. Even Felassan realises how delusional he is about her. It's one of many things Solas is in denial about.

That said, it does seem like he was much more aware of Elgar'nan's evil than she was; I truly believe that Mythal found a kindred spirit in Elgar'nan and thought that she was the right one for him. She tempered him and mitigated the harm he did as much as she could (which doesnt seem to be that much, in all honesty). Whether or not they had romantic feelings for each other is up for debate, but I think it's very possible. There was likely an element of tension at being evenly matched in the way they were that gave their relationship a pathological edge. It was only when Solas told her about the Evanuris using the power of the Blight that she finally decided to take him seriously and challenge her husband and the rest of the Evanuris head-on.

It's also really revealing that the Blight was her final straw. Mythal obviously had no issue with slavery as long as her slaves were treated well. It's very reminiscent of real world attitudes some had towards their slaves ie that as long as you don't abuse them it's okay. They don't understand the fundamentally unethical nature of owning another person. It's why I don't buy the benevolence retcon because slavery is inherently cruel--something that both Solas and an elven Inquisitor can argue with Dorian about.

Yeah, Solas really is an unreliable narrator with Mythal and I really wish we'd had more perspectives other than his. I long to see Mythal in all her cunty glory but alas it will never be

[commanderlexaofthegrounders]

Tanagariel's Clexa First Kisses

Following the trend #10YearsofClexaKisses here you have the first kisses between Clexa in four of my works!

Between the Sheets, Part I

Voices started to rise when Principal Kane shouted from the stage. “Calm down everybody, the back-up generator will be up in a minute. So stay where you are and if you need assistance a teacher nearby will be there in a second!”

Only a minute in total darkness. Who could need assistance in a minute? Probably Clarke Griffin.

0:59

0:58

0:57

Lexa turned Clarke around so they could be chest to chest. There was no need for light for they knew where they were. And their bodies were connected, communicating through touch.

Clarke was breathing heavily as well as Lexa, both their bodies were radiating heat from their dance; sweat draped their bodies. Lexa’s hands ran over her bare back and Clarke trembled.

0:43

0:42

0:41

Clarke hands moved over strong arms until she could anchor herself on firm shoulders and locked her fingers behind Lexa’s neck. Lexa’s hands rested on her lower back pulling her closer and then one soft hand rested on her cheek. “In the dark.” Lexa said and her warm breath tickled Clarke’s face realizing how close they were.

0:32

0:31

0:30

And that was it, the end of the world for Clarke Griffin because Lexa Woods was kissing her. Soft lips moved over Clarke’s tenderly and awaited permission, Clarke didn’t hesitate and opened her lips welcoming the kiss, and kissing her back. Lips tasting of Chap Stick and punch, and it was sweet.

0:15

0:14

0:13

Lexa changed the angle of the kiss deepening it, controlling the pace, filled with passion, and Clarke wanted to kiss her forever. This was surreal, nothing could have ever compare to being kissed by Lexa.

0:03

0:02

0:01

The generators were back on in full force; the lights blinded everyone for a second, but not Clarke who opened her eyes to meet the prettiest green eyes she had ever seen. Lexa took a step back pulling away from her.

“Clarke I…”

BANG  BANG!

And then chaos erupted.

2. Can't Tame this Wild Heart (Tarzan AU)

Lexa stood up and went into the forest quickly before coming back. She brought a flower and offered it to Clarke.

“Gift!” Lexa smiled as Clarke took the flower in her hand.

“This is pretty.”

“No, Clarke is pretty.”

Clarke blushed profusely.” Thanks, Lexa.”

Lexa sat closer to Clarke, she took Clarke’s hand and put it over her chest. “Happy with Clarke.”

She could feel how fast and strong Lexa’s heartbeat was.

“You make me happy too, Lexa.”

“Then we stay.” Lexa said simply. Her green eyes boring into Clarke’s. “We make new home.”

“Lexa.” Clarke let out a long breath. “Things aren’t that easy. You have to return to your family and I need to go back to my life.”

Lexa tilted her head slightly trying to grasp the situation. She huffed and shook her head.

Clarke reached for Lexa, cupping her face to make her look at her.

“Lexa, I know you’re angry and frustrated. Trust me, I’d love to spend more time with you, but things are complicated right now. I just wished…” Clarke realized how close she and Lexa were.

Her green eyes locked with her own, and then to her lips.

“Lexa?”

Lexa looked back into her eyes again. Suddenly she closed the gap between them and kissed her. It was a very sweet, innocent kiss. Tentative, guarded, but so tender. Clarke was paralyzed, surprised by the tender action. It wasn’t unwelcomed though because soon she closed her eyes and kissed Lexa back slowly, opening her lips to suck lightly Lexa’s plump, chapped lips. It wasn’t rushed, it was everything a first kiss should be. Fireworks behind her eyelids, and explosion of butterflies in her belly. But Clarke’s logic began to creep in her mind, telling her she couldn’t do this. Not to Lexa.

Clarke backed away. “I’m sorry, Lexa. We- we can’t.”

Lexa frowned again. “Wrong because I am girl?”

“What? No, no Lexa I ah, I don’t mind that you’re a girl.”

“Then why? Clarke does not like Lexa?”

Clarke chuckled. “No. I like you, but I can’t do this to you. I can’t do this knowing that you’ll have to go away, and it wouldn’t be fair to you. Your feelings, you have to grow some more to understand what you really feel. To be sure of those feelings. You might think you like me, but it could be just gratitude. Once you learn more you’ll understand that this isn’t simple either.”

“I am not confused. I know I like Clarke. We mate and make new home here!”

Clarke was now a furious red. “I ah, we uh, we can’t mate Lexa. I told you this isn’t simple. I’m sorry. I ah, I think we should get back to camp. It’s getting too dark.”

Lexa’s face was so heartbreaking to see. The confusion and yearning were so clear now. Her eyes that were bright suddenly became dull. Lexa nodded and picked up their stuff before making the way back.

3. Bokeh:

“Give me your cellphone.” Clarke extended her hand.

Lexa pulled out her phone and unlocked it. The blonde chuckled as she typed her number in the contact list.

“What?” Lexa crossed her arms defensively.

“Nothing.”

“Spill it, Clarke.”

She finished, returning the phone to Lexa. “You have Poison Ivy as your screen background?”

“Yeah, so what?” Lexa checked the new info. “Clarke Griffin?”

“Yup, that’s me and Harley Quinn is the more badass villain.”

Lexa had never been more offended in her life. “Oh god, get with the winning team here, Clarke. Seriously, Harley? She’s nothing but a puppet for the Joker!”

Clarke grinned mischievously. “I guess I’ll have to teach you who's on the losing team.”

In the blink of an eye, Clarke stepped into her personal space and claimed her lips. It was a very brief chaste kiss, just lip against lip, but it was like Lexa had been burnt. As if the oxygen had been sucked out of her lungs and the only thing that kept her alive were those soft, warm, lips.

“Thank you for the ride.” Clarke giggled taking two steps back, she turned on her heel and went to hitch a cab.

Lexa touched her lips not believing what just happened, the tingling left was warm and fuzzy. It was such a long time since she kissed someone, but this sensation was new to her.

A good kind of new.

Except it was with the girl who assumed she was Alexis, whom Clarke met at a nightclub and not awkward, lesbian disaster Lexa.

“Well, shit.”

4. Like an Open Wound:

“Clarke, I didn’t push you away because I wanted to be professional. I should but... It’s because I-” Lexa hesitated and Clarke wondered who was this Lexa who faltered with words and looked suddenly shy. “Because you’re you.”

“Wanheda, I know.” Clarke dejected. “Your assignment.”

“I told you that you weren’t just an assignment to me.” Lexa sighed in resignation. “I’m sorry, Clarke. I never meant to hurt you with my actions.” Lexa offered a small sad smile that broke Clarke’s heart. Lexa turned on her heel and began to leave the room.

“Lexa, wait!” Clarke tried to reach Lexa before the woman left her bedroom.

Her jealousy - because she was very sure that’s what she felt for Costia now - blinded her completely to what she was really feeling for the brunette. And of course, she misinterpreted Lexa’s words as well. Lexa had been saying something to her in her own Lexa way - between words - and it wasn't until now that she removed the jealousy fold from her eyes that she could see Lexa again.

Lexa and her weren’t so different at all.

Both were lonely, suffered deep loss and cared too much.

Weakness, Lexa called it.

Clarke called it strength.

In the end it was the same thing.

Wasn’t it?

There was only one way for Clarke to find out.

Clarke skipped the last steps to reach Lexa, cupped her face gently and closed the distance between them.

Her lips touched Lexa’s, and it was like everything was right in the world. Lexa was clearly caught by surprise, however, the tension slowly started to leave the brunette. Clarke felt Lexa melt into the kiss and open up to her, finally lowering her shields completely. Clarke took it as a positive signal to deepen the kiss, her hands moving to entangle into the soft chestnut braids and the baby hairs on the nape of her neck to pull Lexa closer, to eliminate any space left between them. Lexa’s hands were quick to find an anchor in Clarke’s lower back, keeping her steady and secure.

Nothing could have prepared Clarke for the sensations she felt by pressing her lips ever so softly against Lexa’s plump lips. It was out of this world, her heart was beating so fast, it felt as if it was going to jump out of her chest; but soon she felt the change in Lexa. The tightness of her jaw and neck so Clarke pulled away.

“I- I can’t...” Lexa said. “I’m sorry, Ms. Griffin.”  Her demeanor was back to the cold, stoic, emotionless woman. Her walls were so high that right now it was an impossible task to go through them.

She didn’t give a chance to Clarke to say anything else. Lexa was out of her room leaving her with nothing but want and regret.

[nalyra-dreaming]

It's so frustrating trying to have a conversation about Louis' narration. The last time I tried, someone accused me of being 'ship-brained' because they believe Loustat has nothing romantic about it and that there's no tenderness between them.I simply pointed out,as neutrally as possible,that we can’t fully trust what Louis has said about their relationship so far because he’s altered a lot of details,and that Armand is also a suspicious figure in Louis’ memories of Lestat. That’s it.But immediately, I got attacked for calling Louis an unreliable narrator and for trying to demonize Armand. Which is insane, because I never said Louis was completely unreliable, just that when it comes to his relationship with Lestat, things are complicated, and we can’t take his words at face value when assessing their love.It’s exhausting. You can’t have a nuanced discussion anywhere without people jumping down your throat.I have never said Loustat had a perfect marriage or was a perfect couple,just that things are more nuanced that what Louis narrated,I'm not waiting for Lestat to be the only truth and if i understand Rolin doesn't want another revisit and s3 will be modte likely Lestat' background + maybe some plot in modern story,I never believed that he would refute everything and Louis is a liar Iand Armand a big bad moustache curling villain.😮‍💨

I'm accepting to be wrong and we can discuss anything without being always at each other throat

*sighs*

You know, the fact that people cannot see what a disservice they do Louis by making him into this one-dimensional, flat caricature of himself by removing all the problematic bits.... And I call that "problematic" - because JACOB called him/them monsters, and that it's good that they can be problematic...

And so I sat down, and listed a few things JACOB said - with sources!

Louis does lie (he literally says “not everything Louis says is a lie“ in this video)

Louis is problematic

Louis was very repressed

Louis is a snob

Louis has many guises (and Jacob looks forward to s3, TVL!)

Louis is the problem (I saw the tweet (here is one referring to the Taylor Swift song), but it's referred to in this comment as well, as well as other things, too)

Louis knows deep down some things are not true

Louis presents Lestat as a monster bc he‘s angry

The way some people want to remove eeeeeeeeverything that makes Louis in the slightest bit problematic or even an active participant of his own story, and thereby reduce him to this victim only ... this shell is beyond me. I get where it comes from(!), namely from bad stereotypes and racist inflections that have unfortunately been employed again and again at other points - but heaven help, this show is NOT that, and JACOB has already stated all these already - and this need to scream anyone down who dares to point these out is preventing any possibility of real discussion in this fandom - and honestly, THAT is actually the true shame.

Also, re Loustat - ALSO Jacob:

"They are in a romantic relationship in the books. They’re married by the end. Maybe Anne Rice didn’t fully know what their relationship was at first – the style is very different in the first book. Lestat is this kind of goblin monster torturing Louis. But when you look back with the context from further books, you see this man was just very repressed and so hurt by what happened between him and Lestat that he couldn’t acknowledge him as his lover, as his partner, as his great love. But by the second book, they’re absolutely a couple. And because we’re adapting the whole of The Vampire Chronicles and taking things from later books and repurposing them, the idea of telling this story and them not being a couple… well, there’s no show! Their love story, as messed up as it is, is the heart of it."

And:

"Well, scenes from a divorce is probably Armand, and then scenes from a marriage feels more fitting to Louis and Lestat."

What else is there to say....

Our cast gets their characters. Jacob gets Louis.

Now if only the fandom could accept that, too...

[cementcornfield]

explicit rpf stuff below the cut! move on if that’s not your thing :) 

so i hope we all saw the post fifi posted this morning where ja’marr says he doesn’t even LIKE ufc, that it’s too bloody and violent (lmaoooo) despite saying that he watches it with joe sometimes and despite joe LOVING it. (and despite like...play fighting ufc stuff with joe 🫠) and of course i’ve gotta read into this Way Too Deeply :) (along with a few other Likeminded Correct Mutuals) 

and it’s like…i’m obsesseddddd with the idea of ja’marr 'cries during sex' chase and joe ‘loves to get hit in ANY circumstance’ burrow being together and just having the seemingly most incompatible sexual tastes 🥲 like the first few times they’re just not on the same page at all 😭😭

but!! they love each other! and it’s not like it’s the first time they’ve had different tastes and perspectives on things, but like joe said a few weeks ago, they’ve grown together as humans and they’ll continue to do so! plus they both LOVE a challenge (and challenging each other even more so!) 

so maybe ja’marr’s never liked it particularly rough (certainly not as rough as joe likes it!) but maybe he learns to appreciate how big his hands look around joe’s neck and wrists, the thrill he gets when joe’s leaner frame can still manhandle and shove him around to get him where he wants him, the joy of the struggle, slipping out of each others’ grasps like breaking tackles, using their body weight to keep each other still, pushing himself to his limit, pushing joe to his, like it’s a throwing session, like it’s a game! the incredible amount of TRUST inherent in all of it. and maybe that last part is what gets his emotional ass the most <3 

and maybe joe’s never been that into sweet, gentle sex (or at least he’s never really let himself, with his complicated feelings about what’s considered “manly”). but maybe he realizes that it’s okay with ja’marr, the trust coming into play again (because who does he trust more in this world? at this point??) and it’s more than okay actually, sex that lets you rest in a way, lets you just be. gentle touches, reverent kisses, looking into each others eyes. seeing the emotion there and letting yourself get overcome by it. experiencing an emotional release that he neverrrr lets himself feel (thinking of him sobbing during his heisman speech lol, and afterwards saying it’s the most he’s EVER cried!!) Slow, overwhelming, torturous in its own way really, looking into someone’s eyes with no way to hide everything he’s feeling, all of that vulnerability and trusting someone to take care of you in that moment, trusting yourself to take care of them right back!! 

and honestly yeah, i just think that’s Fun. to think about 🙂 both of them exploring these different parts of themselves and different ways to Be with each other. maybe one night it’s more focused on one end of the spectrum than the other, maybe a bit of both when they’re feeling Ambitious. 

(but also lol let’s be real, the vast majority of the year - i.e. in season, i imagine the sex is mostly just quick sloppy blowjobs and handjobs and then they pass out from exhaustion. because of the whole professional athlete thing 🥲 and that’s hot too actually!!) 

[kathaelipwse]

Carved in Sin | Dokyeom

Masterlist

<<<previous chapter

Pairing: Art.student!reader x Mafia.Leader!DK

Trope: Forbidden love

Warnings: Slow Burn | Hidden Identity | Your Muse | Fluff | Flirting

Word Count: 1.0k

Author's Note: AHHH I like the ending lol

Chapter 17 - Homecoming

Four years later.

Your name had become more than just an artist’s signature—it was a brand, a force in the world of sculpting. Your gallery, Carved in Sin, had not only taken over the art scene in the States but had also made its mark in Seoul. Despite the distance, one thing remained unchanged: your top model.

Lee Seokmin.

His presence had lingered in every one of your pieces, from rough clay to smooth marble. Even miles apart, he had never ceased to be your muse.

And today, you were finally returning home.

The moment you stepped out of the airport, the cool Seoul air kissed your skin, and before you could process it, a firm grip caught your wrist and spun you around.

Your back hit the car’s sleek surface as Seokmin caged you in, hands on either side of your head. His eyes were intense, scanning your face, drinking in every detail like he had been starved for centuries.

“You’re really here,” he murmured, his voice deep and husky.

A breathless laugh escaped you. “I’m here.”

He exhaled sharply, resting his forehead against yours. “I’m so damn proud of you,” he admitted. “But do you know how unbearable these years have been? You expect me to survive on just calls?”

You smirked. “Oh? Were they not enough for you?”

Seokmin let out a low chuckle before gripping your chin and tilting your face up. “Not even close.” His lips hovered just above yours, teasing, agonizingly slow. “Do you know how many nights I wanted to fly over just to see you?”

“And yet, you didn’t,” you whispered, eyes locked onto his.

“Because I wanted you to chase your dream,” he confessed. “Didn’t mean I wasn’t dying inside.”

Before he could say anything else, you pulled him down, your lips crashing onto his. He groaned against your mouth, one hand tangling into your hair, the other gripping your waist like he never wanted to let go.

When you finally broke apart, breathless, you reached into your coat pocket and pulled out a sleek, platinum bracelet. Unclasping it, you gently took his wrist and clipped it on.

He frowned slightly, glancing at the jewelry. “What’s this?”

You grinned. “Since you once said over a call that you don’t remember your birthday, I thought I’d get you something. This caught my eye.” You paused, gaze soft. “Let’s consider today your birthday.”

A stunned silence.

Then—

Seokmin let out a deep, gravelly chuckle, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You love me.”

His eyes darkened. “Damn right, I do.”

Before you could respond, he kissed you again, but this time, rougher, hungrier, his fingers digging into your hips. You gasped, clinging onto him, letting the world blur away.

When he pulled back, his lips were swollen, and his smirk was absolutely sinful. “Get in the car,” he ordered softly.

You raised a brow. “Bossy, are we?”

“Shut up and get in.”

With a grin, you obeyed, sliding into the passenger seat as he loaded your luggage into the trunk. As soon as he settled into the driver’s seat, he reached over and blindfolded you.

“Seokmin,” you deadpanned.

He smirked. “Trust me.”

You huffed but didn’t protest as the car rumbled to life and took off. The ride was silent except for the occasional brush of his fingers against your hand, like he just needed to keep touching you.

Finally, the car came to a stop.

You felt his hands on your shoulders, gently guiding you out. The scent of fresh paint and wood filled your nose as the blindfold was removed.

Your eyes widened. A house.

No—your house.

Seokmin watched your expression carefully. “I started this project the moment you left,” he admitted. “I figured I needed to build something that felt like home… for both of us.”

Your heart clenched, overwhelmed. “Seokmin…”

He took your hand, leading you inside. The interior was breathtaking—spacious yet cozy, warm hues blending with modern design. And then, he pulled open a door, revealing a fully-equipped underground studio.

“So you don’t have to go anywhere else,” he murmured. “You can work here, create here.”

You turned to him, eyes misty. “You thought of everything.”

He nodded. Then, after a beat, he stepped closer, his fingers grazing your cheek. “You don’t have to stay if you’re not ready,” he said softly. “But if you do…” He swallowed. “If you do, I’ll never let go.”

A quiet pause.

Then, with a teary smile, you whispered, “I’m staying.”

Seokmin let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding before crushing you into his embrace. His lips found yours once more, sealing the promise.

And in your mind, a single thought echoed—

Hah… A muse? He’s more than that, that’s for sure. Someone I can call mine without feeling like I’m a responsibility to him.

Pulling him into another kiss, you knew, without a doubt—

You were home.

The End

Taglist: @lixisoul99

[feathersandpen]

Okay, here we go again. What did we see? Was it a fever dream? Everyone who was there for the world tour is not surprised at all by this. Even though I didn't think we'll have another occasion to witness that.

I watched the red carpet live, and let me tell you—I was so giddy when Luke and Nic arrived a few minutes apart. I was absolutely down bad for Luke’s look and completely mesmerized by Nic’s. They were the stars of this red carpet; everyone wanted a piece of them. Even the interviewers were gagged by their unhinged behavior.

To be honest, I didn’t expect a red carpet reunion; I wasn’t expecting joint interviews either. If they wanted to untangle everything around them, they could have just taken a few pictures together, a few with the whole cast. Done, easy, nothing to talk about. To be totally fair, I was expecting Antonia on the red carpet with Luke. It made the most sense after the Boss event and the BAFTA after-party. Again, I’m a low-key, not very vocal Lukola shipper, but I really think Luke is with Antonia, and I truly believe she was in LA with him. Why she wasn’t shown at the SAG Awards remains a mystery to me. I can understand why Luke wants to keep this relationship under the radar after what went down last year. But keeping her locked in a hotel room when he could have at least brought her to the after-party makes it seem like he’s trying to hide her. Sweet Luke, this is a messy thing you’re trying to do.

I know what you’re thinking: Why is she talking about this under this tag? What the hell is she trying to prove? Sorry, I needed a little introduction to my long demonstration.

So here’s what I think about this. I think that when they say they’re friends, they genuinely believe it’s true. Friendship can be the strongest bond two people can have when it’s full of respect and trust. And I think they have that. But for me, it doesn’t fully define their relationship—or at least, not the entire spectrum of it. And that’s the tricky part.

They’re friends, they’re colleagues, they see each other every day, and they’ve spent two years of their lives attached at the hip for filming and the press tour. So why do we witness such unhinged behavior from them again and again? Because underneath their not-so-straightforward statements, there’s something lingering. Something you cannot say, something that cannot be addressed, but also something that cannot be ignored.

I’m not going to dwell on the why—I have no idea. It could be a multitude of reasons. But the way they act around each other is so telling. They’re so happy to be together. They said they were filming, but they act like it’s been a zillion years since they last saw each other. It’s like every moment they spend together has to be memorable. Like they’ve lost control over how they behave, and they just want to make the most of it. The more I try to make sense of this, the more I realize this is the only way to understand those moments. When you have lingering feelings for someone, when you can’t be with that person, every time you see them has to be the best. That’s why Luke is yapping about her (favorite moment: him calling her “our fearless leader.” This was supposed to be his season—he’s the Bridgerton one—but he lets her shine. Because, as Nic has already said a few times now, “He has no ego.” I think that’s when I started giggling in my bed uncontrollably). That’s why her eyes lit up when she saw him on the red carpet. That’s why he had to interrupt her interview. That's why they have no sense of personal space , just being so close to each oher all the damn time, not wasting a moment together. This can’t be stopped—it’s like a mystical force pulling them toward each other.

I really and dearly hope they can sort this out—for themselves and for the people around them. A situation like this can be tricky to navigate. I don’t have any right to tell them what they should do or who they should be with, but something like this—a bond like this—could be a beautiful thing to explore. The only thing I know is that, whether it's friendship, something more, or something else altogether, they love each other so much. I'm grateful they're willing to share that with us and allow us to witness just a little piece of that love.

[katerinaaqu]

Yup I understand and I appreciate that you are familiar with other translations as well. But yes the "teller of tales" doesn't fully apply either as I have already given you the passage. The passage that has the word πολύμητις aka "of many wiles" or "of much wisdom". Any other characterization is basically an extra. But I agree. The term "storyteller" fits better than others and doesn't seem like already discrediting your main character an narrator. Basically the term "lord of lies" gives people the freedom to assume everything he says can be doubted which was not the point of the Odyssey (ironically as I said the title "lord of lies" was actually ancient but belonged to other pieces of literature like Virgil but Virgil was also painting a more negative image on many characters of the Greek side for his stories)

I am actually surprised that Wilson translated "girls" instead of "slaves" because as I said she seemed very much eager to paint Odysseus and many male characters with negative colors but then again the word "girl" also implied that she was considering all very young and inexperienced so I guess she would have achieved her goal either way. The original text uses the word δμῳαί which means "slave accquired at war" and Telemachus also mentions that they are "slaves his father won for him" so yeah I guess that is the case here. Somehow it almost seems like she wanted to say that the slaves that got executed were all innocent girls that didn't know any better and somehow I feel it takes from their own agency to the story but dunno

But I fully agree. Omitting repetitive patterns sure gives you "accessibility points" for people who do not want to read the same passage twice but it removes a lot of its charm. The homeric poems were first and foremost songs. Is like trying to sing "Skyfall" and remove the refrain because it is too long or something.

I know I only mention that the action-reaction thing is not necessarily linked to deception exclusively which is why I also bring the straightforward examples too that basically prove that the "destroying lives" part is not necessarily linked to one factor only and then I brought the example of Odysseus using deception to save lives even in the context of the suitors where no other life was truly at steak apart from the suitors themselves. I have answered to the passage many times in my asks before but here is a small summery; to me is clear that Odysseus was punishing the willing servants. We have the example of Melantho and Melanthius that clearly were stated to follow at their own free will. Odysseus had 50 slave girls in his palace. He executed only 12. His wetnurse also informs him that some of them betrayed him. It was clear that even though there were some of the slave girls that were forced (similarly to how Phemius was forced to sing for the suitors or Philoetius and Eumeus to provide meat for their gatherings) the same way the majority of the slave girls were forced but the 12 slave girls and Melanthius were willingly helping the suitors for their own benefits. They are slaves so they have no rights (or guarantee) but that doesn't mean they didn't have agency or minds of their own (which is why also the roles of slaves like Eumeus, Philoetius and Euryclea are so important to the plot). They chose to follow the suitors and betrayed the secret of Penelope. Which is why Odyseeus didn't perform a vast execution to all his slaves but only the 12 girls and Melanthius. Odysseus spent 2 days in the palace and he observed everything and everyone. He noticed how many of his slave girls were loyal and how many they were not. And at the end of it all asked Euryclea to specify their exact number as well. Was the punishment cruel? Absolutely. But it was typical for treason as well and given how the slaves betrayed his trust (and sure they had no real reason to be loyal to him or to anyone for that matter) and they knew there was a price for treason which they paid. It is not a matter of whether they are a threat or not (and in one way they are given how they betrayed Penelope who was struggling with everything she had to keep the suitors at bay). It is like asking why would anyone imprison someone for 10 years for comitting murder by accident. A person without murderous intents shouldn't be considered dangerous right? Still there are laws that fit a crime that every society follows. The punishment for treason was execution in many places it still is. So the punishment was followed What was more the slave girls that clearly betrayed Odysseus could for example run off and go to the families of the suitors directly and tell them what happened and Odysseus was also trying to delay the retalliation of nobility as much as he could. He couldn't trust them and he couldn't re-sell them to someone else either (for again in antiquity someone betrayed someone one time was already a big deal that made them unreliable) Last but not least I find it interesting how no one cries for Melanthius that was tortured and mutilated instead of being offered a quick death.

I believe what I am saying so far earned me the right to say that I never judged an ancient character by today's standards, I hope, so I do not think I need to be reminded of that... But I have already answered to the matter of "cheating" in the many analysis and asks I have replied to. You can check them if you want. Also in ancient Greece affairs were excused but only in certain conditions. Usually it is if the subject was a slave or a prostitute. In fact we have millions of tales in Greek mythology in which cheated women take revenge on their husbands and one of them is Hera herself. The Greek kings had sex with slaves not free women. Circe and Calypso were free women and goddesses so the portion of cheating existed (in fact in 5th century Athens the crime of affair was worse than rape. Because rape was considered a crime of passion of the moment while affairs were calculated and repeated). Laertes for example had every right to sleep with Euryclea but he chose not to because he was aware of his wife's anger. So it shows that even then the affair was more tolerated than expected or liked. Would infidelity be more tolerated for men? Absolutely. But it was still not considered okay or expected. The ideal still seemed for someone to have only one wife and be loyal to her (thus also the stigma of sons that were illegitimate. See for example Teucer himself was illegitimate according to some sources and losing his big brother meant losing the last family he had since his father couldn't have him as his heir) I analyze a bit on illegitimate sons and such on an answer I have had with the whole insult on Odysseus being "Son of Sisiphus" which you can see here Anyways I have analyzed the Circe and Calypso matters many times (even consisted my own retelling of the events) Two of my main analysis you can find here:

I also found interesting how in both cases he speaks on his unwillingness to stay (With Circe he uses the verb "detain" and with Calypso "imprison"):

As for why he "soothes" Calypso? I mean the man was speaking the truth. He wasn't rejecting Calypso because she was uglier or older than his wife. She was a goddess. The only natural would be in most occasions that she would be much more beautiful and well-shaped than a mortal woman. This truth would also be spoken as a human who cannot commit any more hubris to the gods. He had no reason to hide the truth that Calypso was more beautiful than his wife. She was. Plus what could he do? Berate her? He still needed her to give him the axe so he could make his raft. Of course the idea that he "chose" the affair is also on the table but let me use your own valid question about whether the slave girls are willing and ask you the same about Odysseus and let's say Calypso; what choice did he have? He was alone after an incredibly traumatic experience, isolated by everything and everyone in the mercy of a powerful deity that came out of a powerful titan. What choice did he really have but to comply? Especially since Calypso was basically her isle itself. Which is why also he was wishing for death every day at the final stages of his depression. Of course again as I mention to my replies one can entertain the thought that he started as willing the affair but still.

Not at all and I am happy you like the subject and yes I agree I can see your original comment I just barge in and talk of it because there is a lot of misconception going on unfortunately and with the popularity Wilson got I am worried sometimes. My friend I am not sure if there is a "correct" interpretation per se. Sure I shall defend my opinions strongly and explain why I have them but of course you are free to throw on the table any ideas of your own and your own reading to the passages and such. It is always welcome. There is plenty of wisdom in first sights and "inexperienced" eyes and ears.

I wouldn't even dare to call myself an expert. I would consider myself a type of nerd like anyone around here! Hahaha! In fact you make some really valid points which I absolutely love and you know the importance of navigating through sources which is the most basic thing and most important one can do! You must never apologize. Sounds like a great plan and I really admire your dream and I hope you shall achieve it!

Haha to be honest as I said I have not read Lattimore first-hand but I have heard he is really reliable. Murray's is very good as well from my experience (you can find him for free on Perseus.tufts where you can also find the epics in their original language and click upon the words and see their meaning to the dictionary and even use the word search tool and navigate through the sources). I understand. Unfortunately nowadays we claim we want "accessibility" and yet we do so in the price of sacrificing accuracy and that unfortunately has lead to many problems. I definitely appreciate the by n large good introductions she made but yes her translations and the way she twists certain passages have me not a fan but at least encourages people to read it I guess instead of "learning" only on the mainstream retellings (which sets the bar too low but still! Hahaha!)

Absolutely not! You can even now! Forgive me in advance if I take time but I shall try to answer all your questions if I can!

One of my favourite moments in the Odyssey is how Alcinous reacts after listening to Odysseus’ tales about his journey back from Troy, in Book 11. This is the moment I am talking about:

This is page 291 in my Norton edition of Emily Wilson’s translation of the Odyssey

Keep in mind that this is after Odysseus talks about the incidents in the cyclops’ cave (the “nobody” incident, as I like to call it) just two books before, in Book 9. Book 9 also begins with the following lines:

This is page 240

Alcinous’ praise in Book 11 (the first pic) made me audibly go “What?!” when I first read it. I am quite certain that this was the general reaction of the gods on Olympus, who were very probably listening to the conversation all along.

Odysseus’ charisma is unmatched.