#which both sounds like too many and too few instances

[diltonsstrangescience]

I don’t really have anything new to say about this.

I just want to acknowledge that the “use of extremely lifelike duplicates” tally is at four instances now.

[kurogxrix]

Clingy Mornings

Bruce Wayne x Wife!reader, Batboys x Batmom

IN WHICH your clinginess towards your husband never fails to disgust your sons.

WC: 1.5k

“And where'd you think you're going?” The sudden sound of your voice, albeit muffled partly by your pillow and sleepiness, startled your husband from his sitting place at the edge of your shared bed. You could barely even see with the morning grogginess clouding your iris, yet Bruce’s defined back muscles somewhat managed to break through your view. 

Bringing a hand up to wipe at your eyes, you couldn’t help but relish in the sight of your husband’s fine muscles flexing as he turned to meet your eyes. The way his bicep laid there all deliciously as he tipped all of his body weight onto one arm, the other moving up to caress at your cheek lovingly. There was no denying the pure adoration that swam through his beautiful blue iris, they spoke for themselves. 

“Well one of us has to be downstairs before Alfred decides that we’ve had enough sleeping time and barges into our room.” he chuckled slightly, a rare instance for The Batman, yet he’d only show this side when he was Bruce Wayne alongside you. His beautiful wife and mother of his children, adopted or not, they were yours. He had to force himself and resist the urge to chuckle as he watched your expression morph into a pout, your delicate hand pulling at his arm as you tried to get him back under the sheets with you. 

“Cmon Bruce, just a few more minutes.” you pleaded, tiredness still evident in your voice but it progressively faded the more you stayed up begging your husband to fall asleep with you again. Your hopes spike as Bruce laid behind you for a second, but the fact that he was laying on his forearm and elbow immediately crushed all of your hopes. His warm palm never left your cheek once, making you snuggle deeper into the palm that was just as big as your face. 

“I’d love to, trust me. But are you sure that you don’t want to see those demons of yours before they leave?” Of course he’d do that, of course Bruce would use your beloved children as bait for you to accompany him downstairs and finally leave the bed. You grunted something along the lines of ‘well then you better carry me’ in the crook of his neck as you threw your arms around his shoulders. This time Bruce couldn’t resist chuckling as he grabbed you delicately by the hips, hosting you onto his lap as he stood up from the plush mattress. 

Bruce hadn’t complained once about your clinginess. Truth to be told you’d been like this since the night before because you had rarely seen your beloved Bruce for nearly a whole ass week. It wasn’t unusual that you both wouldn’t see each other, on days that you’d be busy with work and on nights that the city’s menaces just wouldn’t rest. But recently everything had just been too much, too many meetings, too many villains and yet not enough time.

You winced as his hands came to lay across the bruises that now decorated your hips, two huge hand marks engraved into your skin as a remnant of the previous night. Needless to say that the reunion sex had you reaching for the stars, and the faint ache between your legs was a constant reminder of just what Bruce’s perfect girth could do to you. 

Your husband moved his hands with expertise as he descended the stairs, having only one hand under your ass to support your weight as the other laid along your back. You weren’t even concerned about a potential fall, because your husband did happen to be Batman, and his strength was unmeasured to your body weight. No matter what it was. 

Dick had been the first to notice his father walk into the living room, not that it was hard to notice him considering the absolute unit of a man that your 6’4 husband was. Your eldest son was perched up on the sofa, a bowl full of cereal and milk as the TV played in the background. He froze at first, unable to see you from your buried position in Bruce’s chest. Dick was afraid that you’d walk in shortly after you dear husband and start ripping one off on your son for eating on your couch, because even as the grown ass man that he now was, Dick was the messiest eater that you’d ever seen.

Though luckily for him that never came because it seemed like you had better plans, which included being stuck all day to your husband. No exaggeration. He watched in amusement as Bruce sat down amongst his children on the sofa, Damian not even displaying an ounce of attention towards his father as his eyes strained on the TV. could tell that it was a lazy morning for the both of you, even if Bruce claimed that it wasn’t for him. He had been clearly too bothered to dress before going down, instead clad in nothing but a pair of black boxers that he’d quickly thrown on in the morning. His warm, bare skin brought warmth against your clothed one, making you cling to him even harder than you previously were. 

Dick couldn’t help the smile growing upon his lips as he noticed the way your hands were clamped tightly around Bruce’s neck alongside the way your legs caged his waist. Like a clingy koala, he thought. 

You’d not moved from your position upon arrival, and at first your children could’ve thought that you were sleeping, and that Bruce was the clingy one after having snatched you from the comfort of your bed to snuggle with you downstairs on the couch.

Although they quickly found their assumptions to be wrong as they watched Bruce hand move up to your lower back, rubbing it adoringly before he gently tapped you to move and cuddle his side so he could eat. The bowl of cereal that he’d quickly grabbed from Alfred sat on the table staring at him, and his stomach was yelling for it. 

You squeezed in between Bruce and Damian as you climbed off your husband's lap, offering him the limited space that he’d get for the rest of the week. By all means you were still cuddled up to his side, an arm wrapped around his bicep as you rested your head on his bulging muscles. 

In the back of your mind, you heard a little voice telling you that this morning was all too weird. Why? Because the living room was far too silent for it to harbour all four of your children at once in. Maybe If you’d both been a little more aware you would’ve caught the sight of Jason trying and desperately failing in his attempts of ‘secretly’ snapping a picture of you both since the moment you’d walked in. 

Bruce could be sure that in a few hours he’d get a ping from his phone and a bunch of notifications about some sort of instagram post that your son has posted about the seemingly intimidating Bruce Wayne cuddling up to his wife. The caption would read ‘Bruce Wayne has gone soft, nobody is safe from the softpocalypse anymore’, but you didn’t know that as of now. 

Maybe you’d catch sight of that devilish grin adorning your youngest’s face, yet again that was nothing new. Or maybe you would have been able to notice the way Tim would often part from his beloved cup of coffee to check if Jason got the right angle. Although Bruce would admit later on that there’s no shame in showing some well deserved love to your spouse, he’d most definitely ground them all for playing this little ‘prank’ on him. 

You slowly returned in Bruce’s embrace after watching whatever idiotic movie that Dick had put on for god knows how long. Bruce’s bowl now empty and sitting on the coffee table before you. You took it as a sign that you could retake your spot within his arms, and your brooding husband didn’t even complain once as you got comfortable. With your face now buried in the warmth of his neck once again, you couldn’t help yourself but to give him a chaste kiss here and there.

“In front of my coffee.” you paused your movements at the disgusted tone in Tim’s words, effectively getting your other son’s to turn towards you both. You relished in their disgusted disagreeing, carefree laughter escaping you while blocking whatever sound came from the TV. You watched as your boys all left the room one by one to go on with their days, claiming that they can’t stand you two being ‘too in love’ because it was far too disgusting.

A solid minute after the room regained its original silence, save for the soft sounds of the movie still playing, Bruce allowed himself to relax in your arms. He slid down the sofa in a lazy position, keeping you tightly trapped in his embrace as he rested his head above yours. Hands regaining their comforting motions above your back, a rare and cocky smile graced Bruce’s face. Now that the whole mansion knew that you both were up and going, all in your ‘disgusting’ clinginess, he could only guess when the next person who dared to walk upon you both would come and disturb you. 

-

Hope my bruce girlies eat this shit up. also this is UNEDITED😔

[mcntsee]

— ★ tomorrow

↳ summary: “I wasted all those yesterdays, and now,—“ His words trailed off with a sigh, his eyes red-rimmed from hours of tears shed in the hospital, his gaze blurry as it searched for her face, “—What if I am completely out of tomorrows?”

↳ warnings: hospitals, mentions of gunshot wounds, pain, regret, not proof-read. No use of “y/n”

↳ author’s note: This is fluff, I promise the end is really sweet! This is also inspired by different, random, pinterest quotes my friends sent me. Enjoy!

* ੈ✩‧₊˚

No one enjoyed hospitals. The colors lacked vibrancy, the sounds became repetitive after a few minutes, the antiseptic smell was overpowering, the food tasted bland, and the anxious wait for news about a loved one was excruciating.

Unfortunately, the team was all too familiar with hospital waiting rooms, and even more unfortunate was their familiarity with being patients themselves.

Thankfully, the Federal Employees' Compensation Act provided some relief. Without it, they couldn't even begin to fathom the astronomical medical bills they'd be facing.

Tonight, however, finding themselves stuck in the uncomfortable chairs of the hospital waiting room had not been part of their plans.

The young genius's head throbbed relentlessly, a sensation he'd endured for weeks. The unimaginable pressure around his entire head, compounded with the bright light reflecting off the hospital's shiny white walls, the incessant beeping and the sounds of loved ones crying doing nothing other than intensify his discomfort.

The nurse they had bombarded with questions upon arrival had emerged not long ago to thankfully inform them that everything was alright. The surgery had gone well, and she was now in recovery. Soon enough, if they wished, they could stop by her new temporary room and visit her.

By now, most of the team had returned to the office. Hotch had been called back to work to tackle the pending files on their desks. Fortunately, he had allowed Rossi and Reid to remain behind. Ostensibly, their task was to update the team on her condition, but both of them understood that even if that hadn’t been necessary, there was no force on earth that could have budged Spencer from his spot, where he had been stationed for the last however many hours.

Spencer could feel David's gaze piercing through him. He wanted to snap at him, but he knew his current behavior had undoubtedly attracted more attention than just the older agent's. Clutching at his head, tugging on strands of hair intermittently, his leg bouncing up and down, with eyes tightly shut—his agitation was palpable.

“Kid, they said she’s alright. You need to relax.”

It was true, they had been told that, but it did little to reassure him. His mind raced through various worst-case scenarios. Her wound could become infected, or there might be undetected damage to internal organs. He fretted over potential complications like inflammation of the peritoneum, the formation of blood clots, or even damage to blood vessels leading to reduced blood flow to vital organs, potentially resulting in organ dysfunction or failure.

“The survival rate might seem high, but statistically speaking, complications can arise, even with the best medical care.”

“Spencer—“

“For instance, studies have shown that gunshot wounds to the abdomen carry a significant risk of infection, with rates as high as 20%. And there’s the possibility of peritonitis, which occurs in approximately 10% of cases.”

“Kid—“

“Organ damage is also a concern, particularly with injuries to vital organs like the liver or intestines. Even with the most advanced treatments—“

“Reid!”

For the first time since he sat down, his leg ceased its relentless movement. His hand, which had been tugging at the ends of his hair, relaxed and dropped to his lap, along with the hand he had been waving in the air to explain the statistics. His eyes unclenched, the worry in his brow disappearing as the rest of his facial muscles relaxed.

“What is going on, Spencer?”

The genius's eyes met the older agent's worried gaze with deliberate blinks, adjusting to the harsh fluorescent lights overhead while tuning out the cacophony of noise that surrounded them. “I just— I”

“I never told her and I— I don’t— “ His breathing was uneven, his words tumbling out faster than his mind could keep pace, his mouth struggling to articulate as his chest constricted with anxiety.

A gentle weight settled on his shoulder, its warmth grounding him as it gave a light shake, bringing him back to the present moment and prompting him to pause and take a breath.

“Rossi I- I devoted half my time since meeting her to loving her, only to spend the other half hiding it from her.”

With a sigh, the formerly retired agent settled down next to the much younger agent, his hands staying on the genius's shoulder as he shifted slightly to find a comfortable position.

Reid's gaze lingered on Rossi's face for a moment before he averted it, focusing instead on the bustling activity in the hallway where nurses and doctors hurried back and forth attending to patients.

“Every moment we shared, every laugh, every smile she graced me with, even in her unconscious gestures—“ His gaze returned to the hallway momentarily before lowering to where his hands rested on his knees. With a quick, almost imperceptible shake of his head, he cleared his throat. “Every time I looked at her, the words swelled in my throat. I longed to tell her how much she truly means to me, the happiness and peace she effortlessly brings into my world.”

“To tell her that I love her. That I have for a while now.”

David’s mouth opened, but before he could utter a word, Spencer's pointer finger shot up in the air, silencing any impending speech. It hovered there for a brief moment before his whole palm opened, effectively halting whatever words David had intended to say and then dropping back down to his lap.

“Every single time, I held back. I stopped myself from reaching out to her, from letting my true feelings spill out, from whispering all the things I desperately wished she knew.” His words cracked along with his voice as he, for the first time, admitted aloud feelings he had hidden for so long. “And with my heart pounding in my ears, I always just watched her, silently promising myself, ‘Tomorrow. I’ll tell her tomorrow.’”

“I wasted all those yesterdays, and now,—“ His words trailed off with a sigh that escaped his lips, his eyes red-rimmed from hours of tears shed in the hospital, his gaze blurry as it searched for the older man’s face, “—What if I am completely out of tomorrows?”

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of Spencer's admission hanging between them until the ringing of a phone shattered the stillness. With a sigh, Rossi reached into his pocket, retrieving the vibrating phone and glancing at the contact name.

“She’ll be okay, kid.”

With one final, reassuring squeeze to his shoulder, the older man rose to his feet, his knee cracking audibly as he turned to leave. Despite his efforts at reassurance, Spencer's profound anxiety remained largely unchanged.

He felt utterly helpless, his mind desperately grasping for solutions, for the comforting embrace of statistical analysis with its reassuring numbers. But instead, there was only silence. For the first time in his life, his mind was empty, devoid of answers, devoid of the usual cacophony of thoughts and calculations.

He couldn't recall the moment the nurse returned to inform him that he could visit her, nor did he remember following the nurse into the room and settling down beside her bed.

He cast restless glances around the room, his eyes darting from one piece of medical equipment to another, then flitting to the walls and ceiling. His gaze moved incessantly, pausing only briefly before moving on, taking in every detail. Except for her.

Alone in the quiet with her, he couldn't bring himself to meet her frame. To look at her now would make everything feel too real, and his heart was already heavy with pain.

His body felt like it was betraying him. Breathing became labored, thoughts fragmented, and the pain in his heart seemed insurmountable.

He wanted to tell someone— no, he wanted to tell her, but he knew she wouldn’t have a solution like she always did. So he sat there, his hands nervously tugging at strands of hair, eyes squeezed shut against the overwhelming cacophony of beeping machines surrounding them.

His heart weighed heavily in his chest, burdened by the weight of pain, regret, and fear. It was a sensation he never wanted to experience again, a darkness that threatened to engulf him entirely.

Throughout the night, nurses came and went. Some spoke to him, gave him updates on her condition but he didn’t listen. He tried, he just couldn’t understand it.

As the first light of dawn crept over the horizon, he reluctantly turned his gaze toward her bed. His eyes lingered on her hand, once so delicate and warm in his, now adorned with tubes and wires connecting her to different machines.

With a heavy sigh, his eyes remained fixed on her hand as he leaned forward, feeling the strain in his back from hours of immobility. With gentle care, he reached out and clasped her hand in his, his thumb tracing soothing circles over the back of it, mindful of the wires and tubes.

He remained still for a moment, relishing the warmth of her hand in his before allowing his gaze to travel up her arm, eyes tracing the patterns of the thin, cream-colored blanket that draped over her midsection when they got there. Then, his gaze shifted to her other arm, positioned protectively over her stomach where the wound lay, as if guarding it from further harm.

He studied the blue hospital gown draped over her body, its hue accentuating the sickly paleness of her skin. He traced every curve, every wrinkle, every wire, everything until his eyes finally met her bruised face.

She looked so peaceful and beautiful, devoid of worry. The furrows that typically marked her brow now absent, her closed eyes darting beneath her lids.

Tears welled in his eyes, the overwhelming emotions washing over him as he gazed upon her form. There was no smile, no gentle words escaping her lips, just a faintly parted mouth and serene countenance.

“Please wake up.” he whispered, his voice raspy from not being used in hours. “Please.” The desperation in his voice was evident in the way it cracked, in the way his chest tightened, in the way his throat constricted.

But she didn’t. Not for two weeks.

The medics reassured the team that she was showing positive signs and was going to be fine. They explained that in cases of severe internal bleeding within the abdominal cavity, it was common for patients to take longer to regain consciousness. "Sometimes, this can lead to hypovolemic shock and reduced blood flow to vital organs, including the brain," said the doctor they were currently questioning, one arm cradling a notepad against his chest while the other gestured towards her on the hospital bed, "which contributes to the prolonged unconsciousness she's experiencing."

Once the team's questions were answered, the doctor turned towards the door, his pen moving rapidly across the notepad as he scribbled something down. Upon reaching the door, he paused, pivoting back to face them. "While I can't predict the exact timeline for her awakening, I want to reassure you that we're doing everything we can to support her recovery." Tucking his pen back into his chest pocket, he scanned the room, meeting each person's gaze before lingering on on the genius’.

"Every individual responds differently to trauma and surgery, and it's not uncommon for patients to take some time to regain consciousness," he said, his tone gentle and reassuring, his kind smile directed at Spencer. "However, I want to emphasize that she's showing positive signs of progress, and her body is responding well to treatment. She should be waking up soon." With a final nod in the genius’ direction, he opened the door and disappeared into the flow of medical staff and patients outside her room.

The doctor's reassuring words and comforting demeanor provided Spencer with a small sense of relief.

As the days stretched on, nearing the two-week mark since her surgery, Spencer's exhaustion was becoming more evident. Dark circles underlined his eyes, his hair unkempt, and he felt the weight of fatigue settling into his bones. Sitting by her bedside day after day had taken its toll, leaving him feeling drained and with a sore backside.

It wasn’t until night, when he was alone with her again that he made a promise. “If you wake up tomorrow, I promise—“ He delicately released her hand, curling his fingers into a fist before extending his pinky finger to link with hers. “I pinky promise,” he whispered, a soft, trembling laugh escaping his lips as he recalled her insistence that a promise was only truly binding if sealed with a pinky. “If you wake up tomorrow, I’ll tell you everything.”

He had made up his mind days ago, swearing to himself that the moment she regained consciousness, he would lay everything bare. He hoped that verbalizing the promise would somehow penetrate her unconsciousness and draw her back to him.

As the night wore on and the room bathed in the soft glow of predawn, his senses awakened to a subtle movement near his head, his mind clouded with confusion as he remained still, trying to grasp his surroundings.

He found himself in a hazy state, unable to pinpoint the exact moment sleep had claimed him, yet the sensation of their linked pinkies lingered, his other hand placed gently on her leg, while his head rested on the bed.

It wasn’t until he felt his pinky being squeezed that Spencer’s senses sharpened, his back straightening with a crack as his eyes snapped into focus on her. The familiar furrow returned to her brow as she squeezed her eyes shut, her free hand instinctively reaching up to rub at her forehead.

His breath caught in his throat, his body frozen as he stared at her, his heart pounding loudly in his ears.

“Spence?”

Her voice was raspy, her tone confused as her eyes opened and scanned the room. Without hesitation, he rose from his seat, hands releasing hers as he hurried to the table with the water bottles. He swiftly grabbed one, unscrewing the cap as he returned to her side.

She struggled to lift herself up on her elbows, her eyes tracking his movements, fixated on the open water bottle as he presented it to her. With a gentle nod from her, he brought the bottle closer, tipping it carefully as it reached her parched lips, his other hand positioned beneath her chin, ready to catch any droplets that might escape.

After consuming almost half of the bottle, she gently pushed it away from her lips, taking a moment to swallow the last gulp before lying back down.

He remained in a state of shock, his mind racing faster than it had in weeks, attempting to process the moment as he observed her shifting, striving to find a comfortable position.

“Spence?”

“You—” he began, his words trailing off as he struggled to articulate his thoughts. “You are awake.”

At his words, a gentle smile, the one he had longed to see for weeks, graced her lips. She nodded in acknowledgment as she looked at him. Without hesitation, he moved forward, enveloping her in a tight embrace, being careful not to hurt her. "You're awake," he whispered softly, his face nuzzling into her neck.

He knew he was supposed to call a nurse in —something the staff had reminded him of repeatedly— , but in that moment, he couldn’t bear to let her go. So, he held her tighter, his arms enveloping her as if protecting her from everything, his hand gently cradling the back of her head, thumb tracing soothing circles as he drew her closer.

They stayed like that for what felt like an eternity before he released her from his embrace, his body reluctantly withdrawing from her warmth. His hands remained, tenderly cupping her face as he gazed into her eyes, memorizing every detail of her being.

"I have to tell you something," he whispered, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. The familiar nerves and doubt flooded back, causing his heart to race so fast that he knew that if he had been the one hooked up to the machines, medics would have surely burst into the room thinking someone was having a heart attack.

He hesitated, his eyes lingering on her face, absorbing every detail illuminated by the gentle glow of the sun filtering into the room.

In his hesitation, his mind revisited every memory he shared with her. He recalled the moments he wanted to confess but held back, as well as his conversation with Rossi. Then, the memory of their pinky promise last night resurfaced, reminding him of his commitment. He couldn’t break a pinky promise.

“Spencer?”

“I love you.” There. He said it. His gaze lowered in fear of rejection, the nerves in his stomach growing, but he kept going, he had to. “I am so unimaginably in love with you.”

“Spencer—“

“No, I need—“ he paused, his eyes brimming with unshed tears, gazing still fixated downward as he cleared his throat from the imaginary knot that was beginning to form there. “I need you to know that every time you smile, every time you laugh, every time you talk to me, it’s like my whole world lights up.”

“And when you look at me, it’s like everything else fades away, and there’s just you.” With a deep inhale, he squeezed his eyes shut, colors swirling behind his eyelids from the pressure, before slowly exhaling and looking up to meet her gaze. “I can’t even scientifically explain how you make me feel. There is no book, or research article that explains what you make me feel.”

One of his hands left her face, gesturing through the air as he attempted to explain everything without the safety net of statistical knowledge. “Every time I’m near you, it’s like my heart speeds up so much that, scientifically speaking, I should be dead.” The quiet chuckle that escaped her lips reached his ears, easing the tight lines on his forehead as his lips formed into a gentle smile. “But it doesn’t matter, because being near you makes me feel more alive than I’ve ever felt before.”

“Every little thing you do, it just… it makes me fall more and more in love with you.”

“God, I’ve loved you for so long.” His hand halted its relentless movement and lowered to push the hair out of his eyes before running down his face with a grunt of frustration.

"I've fought multiple inner battles trying to tell you how I feel, only to back down at the last minute, silently promising myself that I would do it the next day."

Her eyes softened at his words, her lips pulling into a sad smile as his remained parted, eyes teary as they left her gaze and focused on his lap. “And then you got shot and I—“ The memories of everything that happened in the last two weeks rushing back to him. "I thought I had run out of next days.”

Her hand, which had been holding his against her cheek, shifted gently, cupping his cheek and wiping away the tear that had managed to escape his eyes.

With a sigh, he looked up to meet her eyes again, his own free hand coming up to hold the hand she now had on his cheek. He leaned into her touch, his head resting against her hand as she rubbed soothing circles against the stubble that had appeared after weeks of not shaving. “I adore you.”

His face inched closer to hers, resting his forehead against hers. "I’m fine with whatever you want as long as I'm able to have you in my life," he whispered, his warm breath brushing against her skin. "I love you so, so much. Always." With that, their foreheads separated and his lips moved up to plant a gentle kiss on her forehead.

The room fell silent, his words hanging in the air as she processed them. After another second, Spencer moved, standing up and letting her know that he was going to go get a nurse before quickly disappearing.

The nurses flooded her room with warmth and care, each one exuding kindness as they attended to her needs, explaining her situation, answering questions, and expressing relief that she was recovering well.

Spencer stood patiently by the door, his shoulder leaning against the frame as he observed the nurses with gratitude, thanking them as they left after ensuring everything was in order.

As the last nurse made her way to the door, she slowed her footsteps, casting a reassuring smile at Spencer. “I told you she’d be alright, sweetheart,” she said with a gentle tone.

Marisa, the lovely old nurse, had not only been concerned about his best friend’s well-being but also his. The genius could confidently say that, had it not been for Marisa, he probably would’ve starved in that hospital chair.

She would often stop by during her morning shift, offering reassurance that she would be alright, often bending a few hospital rules to make Spencer more comfortable, providing him with the comfiest blankets, or allowing him to take showers in the bedroom’s bathroom so he wouldn’t have to leave her side.

She also insisted on him taking breaks to get some fresh air, eat proper meals, and change his clothes, assuring him that if anything happened, she would call him immediately.

With a comforting squeeze to his arm, the nurse left, closing the door gently behind her and leaving the two of them alone in the room.

As he settled back into the familiar chair, their eyes met once more, exchanging a silent understanding. They sat in comfortable silence for a while, relishing each other's presence. Eventually, Spencer broke the quietude. "I should call the team," he suggested softly.

He rose from the chair, his hand diving into his pocket to retrieve his phone. With his back turned to her, he scrolled through his contacts, his foot shifting slightly as he prepared to step away.

Before he could get far, his movements halted by the touch of her hand on his arm, he lowered his phone and turned back to her, meeting her gaze with curiosity. "Wait," she said softly. With a nod, he returned his phone to his pocket, yielding to her gentle tug until he found himself seated by her side on the bed.

A grunt of discomfort escaped her lips as she struggled to sit up, reaching out for his hand for support. Once she was upright, she shifted closer to him. “What are- oomf—“ before he could finish, his question was cut off by the sudden press of her lips against his, her hands gripping the back of his head.

His body momentarily stiffened, eyes widening in surprise as he tried to process what was happening. When it finally clicked, the initial shock turned into a gentle surrender as he closed his eyes, allowing himself to be swept away by the warmth of her lips against his.

With a soft exhale, his hand instinctively rose to caress her cheek, pulling her face even closer to his and deepening the kiss.

If he had ever believed his heart couldn’t beat any faster than when in her presence, he stood corrected. Now, he was certain he was experiencing a heart attack.

His lips moved against hers so perfectly, as if they had kissed a thousand times before, as if their souls recognized each other instantly.

It was perfect, not because it was flawless, but because it felt so real.

He never wanted to stop; her lips were addicting, but when his lungs screamed at him for air, he reluctantly pulled his lips away from hers, resting his forehead against hers as they caught their breath.

“I love you too, Spencer.”

His head jerked back, eyes wide open as he looked at her, scanning her expression, looking for any hint that she was lying, only to find honesty shining through her eyes.

With a laugh, she took his face back in her hands, pulling him closer and pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “You have, and will always be the one my heart searches for in a world full of everyone else.”

With a toothy smile, he pulled her lips back to his, chuckling inwardly, as their lips met, acknowledging that if he thought he reached the peak before, he was mistaken again. His heart was racing faster than ever before. A heart attack of a different kind.

A heart attack that he’d gladly experience a million times more.

[papaya-twinks]

mauve - l.n - p.4 💜

Warnings: Swearing, angst, supposed crash.

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

A/N - I just searched random F1 pundits, I’m sorry, idk who Tom Coronel is, it’s just for the fic coz Y/N badass 😮‍💨

other parts 💜

You didn’t even know why Lando had been such a dick to you, but whatever makes him happy, right? And besides, many people were on your side for the ordeal anyways, bar some of the raging Lando fans, who’d defend the man even if he killer someone unreasonably. « He’s probably doing it coz he likes you,” Lily said as you sat in your teammate, Alex’s room, a huff on your lips.

“As if,” you scoffed in disbelief, “like he’d have a chance with me,”. Lily raised a brow but didn’t push the issue any further, more of the girls thought it was sexual tension, but you very much disagreed. It was almost as if fate itself hated you, as you found yourself dragged into yet another Press Conference with Lando on your group.

You made sure to keep your distance, you didn’t need yet another media scandal. “So with us,” the presenter spoke, “from the right, we have Lando Norris, Carlos Saint, Kevin Magnussen and Y/N Y/L/N,”. 

You didn’t miss the slight snicker coming from Lando’s general direction, but you made no sound or reaction to it. The last thing you’d do was give Lando the satisfaction of knowing that he inwards how to pull on your strings and push your buttons. Fuck him if he ever thought he’d be able to do that. 

“So,Y/N, starting with you,” the presenter smiled as you turned your attention away from Lando and to the presenter, adjusting your blue team polo. “What’s your thoughts on the car so far? We saw quite a performance at the Bahrain Grand Prix,” he smiled to you. 

“I mean, I’m confident in that machinery that the team’s given me,” you said with a smile, “we’ve been able to build up really well on what we had before, and I think we can aim for a position above points this race,” you finished. Again, another scoff. “Lando, did you have something to say?” the presenter turned his attention to Lando. 

“I mean all I’m saying is,” Lando said, bouncing the microphone on his hand, “it’s all well and good being positive and stuff, but let’s be realistic, right?” Lando said, a few reporters murmuring as you stared stoicly in front of you. “I mean, she was lucky getting into F1, but luck don’t work this way out,”.

You couldn’t hold back the eye roll this time - yes, you understood that maybe some drivers didn’t like each other, but this was taking it too far. Comedically far, in some aspects. Carlos lifted his drinks bottle to hide his smirk, as Lando put the microphone down to hide his smirk. “And Y/N, thoughts?”.

“What?” you asked, a knowing smile on your face. “What’s your thoughts on Lando’s, uh, claim?” the interviewer said, a little unprepared for the question. “There has been some rumours floating around by a few people, namely, Tom Coronel, suggesting you, uh, paid your way into the sport?”.

“Who?” you asked, looking into the camera. “Uh, Tom Coronel,” the presenter said as you raised the microphone again. “Who?” you repeated, as the interviewer grimaced to himself - he felt bad for whoever Tom was. “And thoughts on Lando’s sentiment?” he asked.

“How many more seasons do you need before you win?” you asked, leaning forwards and turning to Lando. He hadn’t been expecting you to directly address him. Lando scoffed, rolling his eyes but said nothing. Yet another instance where you’d made him look shit. “Whatever,” he muttered under his breath.

Whenever Lando tried to make his own fight and force his own side, you always made him look shitty. And whether he prompted it or not, he forced himself to believe that you were just a stupid little bitch. A stupid little bitch who needed to learn her place.

The rest of the conference didn’t share a word between you nor Lando, which both of you were thankful for, either way. But there was definitely an air of tension between the pair of you, prompted by Carlos whispering to Lando.

time skip

Lando didn’t know how he’d managed to place his car all the way down in 9th for the Grand Prix, but the car had been acting up for the whole weekend, barely scraping into the top ten, and he was just about lucky to get into the top ten for the race to begin. And, as luck would have it, just when he pit and come out, he came out in the place he least wanted to be.

In front of you.

You were fucking tired of being guilt tripped into giving Lando the place because it ‘wasn’t your fight’. What was the point in dragging yourself and fighting through cars if you couldn’t even try and fight for points? Or try and fight your own battles?

“She’ll back off, Lando, it’s not her fight,” Will reassured Lando as the McLaren driver sent back a quick ‘copy’, diving round the final corner. The straight panned in front of him as he sped down, your front wing dangerously close to his rear, DRS wide open, the dirty air flooding behind you.

You ducked down the inside, just as Lando moved, a stupid move on his part, his front left tyre skidding, a puff of smoke flying off of his tyre, and-

[galedekarios]

references in gale's banter on selection

just thought i'd go through a few of his selection lines that stuck out to me.

Oh, what a tangled Weave we web!

reference to: "oh what a tangled web we weave" from a poem by sir walter scott:

"Like so very many of Shakespeare’s lasting observations, it’s  a beautifully expressed aphorism that uses just a few words to describe one life experience so perfectly, and is so true, that it enters into the English language and becomes one of its most powerful idioms – one that will last forever. ‘Oh what a tangled web we weave/When first we practice to deceive’ means that when you lie or act dishonestly you are initiating problems and a domino structure of complications which eventually run out of control. The quote is from Scott’s epic poem, Marmion: A Tale of Flodden Field.  It’s an historical romance in verse, published in 1808."

the next one is is a play on a line from a shakespeare play:

All the world's my stage and you're just a player in it.

the play is titled 'as you like it' and the line appears in the following monologue:

"All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely Players; They have their exits and their entrances, And one man in his time plays many parts, His Acts being seven ages. At first, the infant, Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms. Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel And shining morning face, creeping like snail Unwillingly to school. And then the lover, Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier, Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard, Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel, Seeking the bubble reputation Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice, In fair round belly with good capon lined, With eyes severe and beard of formal cut, Full of wise saws and modern instances; And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slippered pantaloon, With spectacles on nose and pouch on side; His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice, Turning again toward childish treble, pipes And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all, That ends this strange eventful history, Is second childishness and mere oblivion, Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything."

the next one appears to reference a poem:

The path less travelled.

i think this is in reference to the well-known poem by robert frost, 'the road not taken':

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim, Because it was grassy and wanted wear; Though as for that the passing there Had worn them really about the same, And both that morning equally lay In leaves no step had trodden black. Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back. I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.

i think this ties in well with gale's wanderlust, his wish to explore different worlds and planes of existence.

the next one is a waterdhavian saying, which i already took a closer look at in one of my metas:

'Doth thy mirror crack?' Apparently not.

Early on in his learning of magic, the long-dead and locally famous first Lord (revered in Waterdeep for his role in establishing the city as it is today) Ahghairon said, "I am no wizard. I am a dabbler but no master of magic; it seems no mastery burns within me." These are famous words in Waterdeep, still known by most Waterdhavian children and all adults, and are oft referenced, as in the dry comment "No mastery blazing forth yet," or "A dabbler but no master, eh?" (Comments applied to skill trades and crafts, not just to magic use.) Tuezaera Hallowhand was a famous "lone cat" thief of Waterdeep in the 1200s DR who disappeared suddenly and is thought to have come to a violent end. She once robbed a wizard, and wrote this on his wall with a fingertip dipped in his favorite red wine: "I take things. You take freedom with your spells. Which of us is the greater thief?" This statement, too, is well remembered, and usually echoed in Waterdhavian speech by someone using the last (questioning) sentence of Tuezara's inscription.  Laeral, Lady Mage of Waterdeep for some years (when married to Khelben "Blackstaff" Arunsun), once publicly rebuked an overambitious wizard of the Watchful Order of Magists & Protectors thus: "If I hurl spells but think not of consequences, I am nothing. If I take lives but count not the cost, I am nothing. If I steal in the night and see not the faces of the devastated come morning, I am nothing. If I make decrees like a ruler but undertake none of the responsibilities of the throne, I am nothing. And if I do all these things in the name of the Watchful Order, I am less than nothing. Doth thy mirror crack?" These scornful words are remembered and used almost daily in Waterdeep even a century later, though almost never as the full quotation. Rather, someone will ask scornfully, "Doth thy mirror crack?" or "Hurl but think not?" or "Take but not count cost? Be nothing, then!" [source: waterdeep: dragon heist]

i think this one is very neat:

No gloom, all doom.

because i believe it references xan of evereska from baldur's gate 1. xan is infamous for his gloomy nature, often talking about his doom, the folly of the quest, etc. some of his lines include the following:

"We're all doomed! Run while we're still able." "If we are doomed to fail, could we at least do it faster?!" "Eh. Onward, to futility!" "We're all doomed." "Life is so hollow."

i think it's not so unlikely because gale also references other characters from the baldur's gate series and the forgotten realms overall, like elminster:

Elminster's not around, so might as well.

as well as halaster blackcloak, a mad mage residing in the undermountain in waterdeep:

I hope Halaster takes good care of Tara while I'm away.

as well as another character from the games, edwin odeisseron:

Don't make me go all Edwin Odesseiron on you.

edwin, a red wizard of thay, was a companion in baldur's gate 1 and 2.

No rest for the wicked, I see.

a common idiom that originated from the bible:

No rest for the wicked begins as no peace for the wicked in a 1425 rendering of the Old Testament’s Book of Isaiah 48:22: “The Lord God said, peace is not to wicked men.” The sentiment is echoed in Isaiah 57:20, which in the King James Version reads: “But the wicked are like the troubled sea, when it cannot rest, whose waters cast up mire and dirt.”

another bible reference may be:

Seek and you shall find me.

You will seek Me and find Me when you search for Me with all your heart. 

from jeremiah 29:13.

more folklore than an idiom, but:

The witching hour.

Origins. The phrase "witching hour" began at least as early as 1775, in the poem "Night, an Ode." by Rev. Matthew West, though its origins may go further back to 1535 when the Catholic Church prohibited activities during the 3:00 am and 4:00 am timeframe due to emerging fears about witchcraft in Europe.

i couldn't find the poem in full, but i was able to find the line that references the witching hour:

Along whose banks at Midnight’s witching hour (So wayward Fancy dreams) aerial Beings pour!

another shakespeare reference is:

What fools these mortals be.

which is a line from a midsummer's nights dream:

“Lord, what fools these mortals be!” is used in Act III, Scene 2 of A Midsummer Night’s Dream by William Shakespeare. The line is spoken by one of the best-loved characters in the play–Puck. Here is the short quote in which the line appears in:  Captain of our fairy band,  Helena is here at hand,  And the youth, mistook by me,  Pleading for a lover’s fee.  Shall we their fond pageant see? Lord, what fools these mortals be! Puck speaks this line to his king, Oberon, while the two are watching the four Athenian main characters lost in the forest. These four lovers, whose love affairs are at the center of the play, are behaving in a way that Puck finds foolish and amusing. It should be noted that Puck bears some of the responsibility for the complicated relations between Helena, Demetrius, Hermia, and Lysander. 

this one is, i believe, a dnd reference most likely:

May the dice roll in my favour.

i did however have the immediate association with alea iacta est:

Alea iacta est ("The die is cast") is a variation of a Latin phrase attributed by Suetonius to Julius Caesar on 10 January 49 BCE, as he led his army across the Rubicon river in Northern Italy. With this step, he entered Italy at the head of his army in defiance of the Senate and began his long civil war against Pompey and the Optimates. The phrase, either in the original Latin or in translation, is used in many languages to indicate that events have passed a point of no return. It is now most commonly cited with the word order changed ("Alea iacta est") rather than in the original phrasing. The same event inspired another idiom with the same meaning, "crossing the Rubicon".

Gone with the Weave.

this is a reach, but my mind always went to 'gone with the wind' (margaret mitchell's novel and the 1939 movie adaptation of said novel) when i heard it in the game.

nothing in depth here, i just wanted you all to know that, haha. (((':

A rough tempest I will raise.

this may be another shakespeare reference and this time it's from 'the tempest':

Prospero: Now does my project gather to a head: My charms crack not; my spirits obey; and time Goes upright with his carriage. How's the day? Ariel: On the sixth hour; at which time, my lord, You said our work should cease. Prospero: I did say so, When first I raised the tempest. Say, my spirit, How fares the king and's followers?

on researching, i found a reddit post that also discusses this likely reference.

the last one i want to end the post on is:

Your knight in magic armour.

this line is still bugged and thus i couldn't find it on the wiki, but it's an assist line for a romanced protag.

it obviously referenced the knight in shining armour:

The present-day use of this phrase is, of course, figurative and refers back to the notion of gallant knights saving fair maidens in distress. The reality behind that imagery is dubious and it no doubt owes much to the work of those Victorian novelists and painters who were captivated by the chivalrous ideal of an imagined court of Camelot. Nevertheless, knights did wear armour and that worn by royalty and the high nobility was highly polished and did in fact gleam and shine. The earliest reference that I’ve found to the phrase in print dates from the late 18th century – in The British journal The Monthly Review, 1790, in a poem called Amusement: A Poetical Essay, by Henry Pye: No more the knight, in shining armour dress’d Opposes to the pointed lance his breast

but it also features heavily in art, across various periods in time, like these from john william waterhouse:

i did see someone on reddit also discussing the creator and destroyer line in reference to various deities throughout history, which i thought was interesting as well.

anyhow, thank you for reading! i may have overlooked something so feel free to add your own thoughts!

🖤

[002yb]

I just had a funny thought that I thought might get you to giggle a little bit

Jason isn’t expecting Dick to be in the apartment, he’s supposed to be off on a mission, due to get back in only a few days.

And so what if Jason missed him? That doesn’t have anything to do with this goddamn it! 😤

But he’s lonely, and he’s missing Dick’s hugs (not that he’d ever admit it) and the little German Shepherd was so sad and cold out in that Gotham alleyway 😞

Anyway, something something Dick comes home early and is hiding in some dark corner of the apartment to surprise Jason after patrol, only he climbs ever so slowly in through the window with his helmet cradled in his hands.

Blah blah, Dick scares the hell out of Jason, only for a little fuzzy head to pop up out of the helmet, and when Jason looks down at the little thing he just goes all sweet and melty and Dick just can’t say no to him like that, but he still had to put up a little bit of resistance, so…

Dick gives Jason a look, like a “what do you have”

And Jason is immediately on the defensive, all “Don’t you give me that shit Dickie, this is my son!”

“Your son?”

“My son! You get the Demon, and I get the fluffball. Fair’s fair!” Because dammit, this pup may be a rash decision on his part but he would die for him already!

Cue dick swooning over Mama Jason

Awwww, thank you so much for writing me something to make me giggle~ that made my day! ( ∩´͈ ᐜ `͈∩)💗

All of this, but it's prompted by Jason being an empty nester. He might say that Damian was Dick's kid, but the truth is they were both Damian's guardians. Even if Jason's memories of it are fuzzy, Damian is his baby.

So with Damian grown and frequently out with the Teen Titans and not home with them, Jason is restless from the quiet, the loneliness, the lack of purpose.

It's worse when Dick ups and leaves at the same time.

Necessary as his departure was, fuck him. ˙◠˙

So Jason busies himself with casework, housework, the brotherly chore of tormenting Tim and the others. But at the end of the day he's still home in an apartment that's too cold and too still.

It's depressing. He hates it.

Basically, Jason is in a perfect state of mind for what happens next. Taking on the responsibility of caring for an animal when you're in a state of distress is a perfectly sound decision.

The dog? A rescue. From the Alley's underground dog fighting ring.

That Jason doesn't have great memories of dogs doesn't matter (a childhood spent fighting strays for scraps, being bit by one too many who were just as wounded as him, etc). This one looks at him like it needs saving. Because it was hurt. Because it was left for dead—the only dog left behind. Kept in a too small, dirty cage. Muzzled.

Jason saves the dog. Maybe they adventure together and wreak havoc once they track the dog fighting ring down. The trust and loyalty starts from there.

Basically, the dog comes to be very protective of Jason.

So when Dick comes back from his mission early to surprise Jason, the dog doesn't take kindly to a stranger encroaching on his person's home/territory.

Which is how Jason finds them after patrol. With Dick flat on his back, a dog paw pinning him at the chest and sharp teeth bared in his face.

The dog's ears perk when they hear Jason climbing in through the window. And for a moment there's stillness because uh-oh. They all look between each other, waiting for anyone to make a move but obviously it's Jason who needs to do something to deescalate the situation, so...

'I rescued a dog.' Because apparently soothing Dick is more important than comforting or calling off the dog. True in rare instances, but not this one. Despite being one wrong move away from being mauled, Dick looks relatively chill.

So Jason tells the dog that it's okay and the dog is placated, easy as that. Aggression shifting into curiosity as he sniffs at Dick, seems to recognize his scent as being one that's on just about everything in the apartment.

Something something, Jason sitting beside them and running his hand through Dick's hair and the dog recognizing it as a pet. Associating Dick as another one of Jason's bloodhounds. //u///

So the dog goes from having an enemy to a fellow associate, so he settles and lowers himself to lay on Dick's torso. Soft and sweet as he receives his own pats from Jason. As he listens to the two of them talk.

And then...another associate? Because once Jason eases the dog off of Dick, Dick sits up and there in the breast pocket of his coat is a kitten.

Which he purposefully rescued and brought home because Jason has been having such a bad time with the empty nesting. ;U;

The kitten being so small in Dick's hand and just as small when they get passed off to Jason and held up against Jason's chest. And the dog snuffles at it. And it's sweet.

Jason being so endeared by the thought. Because not only did Dick make it a point to come home early, he was thinking of Jason throughout the mission and that's really nice. ;///////;

Note: the cat was also a rescue. From a lab. Powers TBD lol.

And yes, Dickjay talking about Jason's empty nesting struggles. Jason being embarrassed over it because Damian and he weren't that close.

Which Dick scoffs about because Jason is oblivious. Maybe Damian would come to Dick for advice and talks with him more easily, but whenever Damian needed help or comfort? That was largely Jason. Because Damian trusted Jason just as much as Dick.

But also? Jason having fallen into the Al Ghul nursemaid mindset once Damian was back in the fold. Cooking specially for Damian. Nagging him to be responsible. Tending to him after patrols.

Not that Dick didn't also, but lolol Jason being this intimidating figure that needs to mother for his own peace of mind, get out of his way big bird.

Wwwwww, Dick missing Damian a lot, too. And the general dynamic they had around the house. Especially because it made Jason so happy. ;////////; Like Jason thrives when caring for Damian.

So yes, just two not-quiet-parents talking through missing their not-quiet-kid. Laughing at 'remember when's and snickering about 'Do you think he remembers how to...'

Note: Damian does not remember how to. He calls Dickjay on occasion to eat crow and he hates it, but Dickjay are so happy. //U///

Something something, Dick trying to capitalize help by extending another invitation out to join the Titans. Like, this man wants Jason on his team come onnnnnn

And idk them falling into some kinky roleplay that would give any HR rep a heart attack ahhhhahahaha.

Any thoughts of hanky panky being interrupted by their new dog and kitten though, which is so familiar because Damian used to interrupt them so much, so it's nostalgic and stupid and <3

Extras:

The cat's favorite place to exist is on Jason's chest. They knead Jason's pecs like biscuits and ahhhhahaha, Dick has so many videos on his phone. It never fails that Dick will knead them, too, only Jason shoots him the dirtiest of looks.

The cat and dog being best friends. Where the cat will stand on the dog's back to be transported around the apartment. And they'll sleep curled around each other. <3

Damian visiting home a lot more often and being a little petulant because how is it that when Damian wanted pets, they said no, but the moment he leaves they get two??

Damian asserting dominance as the most loved person the moment he comes home and interacts with the dog and cat. <3

Extra commentary:

One of my many ultimate weaknesses is dickjay missing each other while they're away on jobs that keep them away from home for prolonged periods. It's so cute and sweet wwwwwww!! ;////////; There's something especially cute about when it's Jason, too. Because he gets so prickly about it LOL.

Also, another ultimate weakness ahahaha, dickjay jump scaring each other omgggg!! The cutest. ;A; In this scenario where Jason startles and is all caught out for doing something impulsive too, pfffffft. Sweet boy.

Thank you again for sharing, @batmansball5~ this was so nice of you. ♡♡♡♡

[anna-hawk]

Hidden

Frank Castle x F!Reader

Summary: Frank is attending a party he was invited to by Karen and comes across you in a secluded room where the both of you retreated into to get away from the crowd. He's met you before, since you're Karen's friend, but you've barely spoken to each other. The only things he knows about you is that you used to work with Karen, and that you also seem to be attracted to him. A third person coming into the dark room you're hiding inside shows Frank just how much his presence affects you.

Rating: Explicit 🔞 // WC: 3,7k Tags and Warnings: PWP, dom/sub undertones, slightly mean Frank but Reader is down for it, fingerfucking, oral (m!receiving) A/N: I started writing this a few months ago but fell out of the mind space and picked it up the other day again. Maybe Frank reads a little OOC, but I felt like writing him with a slightly mean dom vibe.

Read it on AO3

Moving into a corner as light and loud music suddenly pooled in through the opening door, Frank's eyes lifted to check on who'd come into the dark room he had retreated into earlier tonight. Hidden in the shadows that the thick curtains of the balcony doors were casting, Frank was able to make out your silhouette without you noticing him in return. He watched as you peeked inside the room before you looked back into the corridor to finally enter the room and close the door behind you with an audible sigh of relief. Now, it was only the full moon and the dim light of the outside lamps shining through the balcony doors that illuminated you enough for him to see you move farther inside and take a seat on the large couch. He quietly observed you as you took a deep breath and leaned your head back. Frank didn't know a lot about you besides that Karen used to work with you at the Bulletin. You and Frank had met on a few occasions, mostly during evenings like tonight, when Karen would invite Frank to a party the press was invited to as well, suspecting that he could garner information on some people. You'd also run into each other at Karen's place a couple of times whenever Frank randomly showed up while she had friends over. He never stayed long on those evenings, no matter how often Karen encouraged him to, feeling too awkward to be around that many people he didn’t know. The few instances he'd stayed longer had been when Murdock had been there as well, and he and Frank had started arguing after a short while under your bemused and Nelson's exasperated expressions. 

You hadn't talked to each other a lot except for a greeting and a few short words, but then you seemed to be a relatively quiet person. Which surprised Frank, since it contrasted starkly with your job's description as a reporter. Not that Frank minded that. Whenever his gaze would fall on you, at Karen's or during parties like tonight, Frank noticed that your eyes were never still, always taking everything in. He guessed that this was your work method; less talk, more observation. He definitely liked that. 

“It becomes a lot after a while, huh?” Frank said, after a long minute of watching you slowly relax. Because he knew with certainty that you'd escaped the crowd for the same reason he had. You might be a reporter, but you didn't seem to enjoy too big of a crowd.

You gasped in surprise and sprang to your feet at the sound of his voice, your face moving towards the direction he was standing in. Frank walked into the light and felt glad to see you take a breath of relief after recognizing him. Frank knew that you were fully aware of who he was and what he did, but you never showed any fear or nervousness in his presence. A slight shyness and awkwardness, sure, but Frank had suspected for a while that you might be attracted to him and that this might be the reason behind your behavior around him.

“I'll leave,” Frank suggested with a faint smile. “You can stay and-” he continued, but you took a step forward, a hand outstretched toward him in a stopping motion. 

“No! No, it's fine — I — please stay.” You joined him at the balcony doors and looked at the New Yorker skyline. You sighed after a few seconds. “Yeah, it does become a lot,” you added, answering his earlier question.

Frank only nodded and watched you out of the corner of his eyes. The dress you were wearing tonight really looked good on you. 

“What kind of money do you gotta have to have two big living rooms?” you mumbled into the silence, which seemed to make you uncomfortable, as Frank noticed you playing with the hem of your dress. Frank tilted his head at your question and shrugged before replying. 

“Too much.”

The surprised laugh his answer got out of you had Frank’s lips pulling up to one side. 

“I guess you’re right,” you conceded with a chuckle this time. 

The silence stretched on for a while longer this time, but you seemed more comfortable now. Frank’s eyes, meanwhile, couldn’t stop straying to your face and body. While he’d considered you to be an attractive woman from the start, he’d never had the opportunity to really watch you from that close up. He quickly realized that he’d been missing out. 

“What?” you suddenly whispered, ducking your head before glancing at Frank furtively. 

There was enough light coming through the window for Frank to make out your flustered expression. It seemed like Frank hadn’t been as discreet as he’d thought while watching you. Or, your senses were keen enough to pick up on small details. Frank laughed through his nose and tilted his head towards you as he put his hands into the pockets of his pants. 

“You look real pretty tonight.” He shrugged, and felt something tug at his gut at the way your eyes widened briefly in surprise before you looked forward again. 

“Thank you,” you mumbled softly, as your fingers fidgeted where you were holding them clasped together in front of you. 

Frank’s eyes zeroed in on your mouth as you lightly bit over your bottom lip, only to look away from you forcefully as he felt something stir in his groin. You were so incredibly bashful about the compliment that Frank felt the urge to say something more to see how you’d react this time. Especially since you clearly were attracted to him, as he’d suspected. How would you react if he were to come closer? Speak right into your ear. 

He didn’t move or say anything, however, since he didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable by doing or saying too much at once, no matter if the attraction was mutual. 

However, that idea flew out the proverbial window as the door to the room opened again, and someone stumbled inside. You turned in the person’s direction, only to take a few steps back, as if unwilling to be found, until you collided with Frank’s chest. 

“Shh,” Frank softly hissed into your ear, as he pulled you back from the window and into a short and narrow passage leading to a small bathroom. 

Frank pushed you against the wall and stepped in front of you as he leaned towards the edge of the wall to watch what the person was doing. From the sounds of it, the man, Frank realized, was pretty drunk and looking for something as he mumbled about the lack of light. A second later, the whole room was bathed in bright light as the man hit the light switch. It was only your secluded spot that kept you hidden from the man’s view. As Frank moved back to face you, the words he’d been about to say died on his tongue as he caught sight of you. He could see you fully now, despite the shadows the small passage was casting over the two of you, and your expression took Frank’s will to not make a move on you away entirely. Your eyes, stuck on Frank’s face, were blown dark, while your parted lips were shiny and a deeper color from normal thanks to your repeated abuse on them. Your chest was rapidly moving up and down with your heavy breaths, and the sight of your hard nipples hidden underneath the light fabric of your dress had Frank’s dick coming to life. 

“You make it really hard for me not to touch you, you know,” Frank muttered darkly, his fingers twitching in the pockets of his pants. 

Your eyes widened, and your mouth opened further on a little gasp of surprise, which Frank was only able to hear over the music coming through the open door because he was standing so close to you. Frank slowly let his eyes trail over you, noticing the full-body shiver running through you at his perusal. He hadn’t even touched you yet, and you were already responding to him as if he had. Heat coursed down his spine at your reaction. It had been a long time since he’d found someone who so unmistakably wanted him. He took a steadying breath. He wanted to see how else he could make you react. 

“What’s turnin’ you on like that, huh?” He started conversationally, taking one of his hands from a pocket to trail a finger along the column of your throat, which had your head tilting to the side as your eyes blinked repeatedly. “The hidden spot?” He continued, drawing the finger over the swell of your breasts peaking out of the dress, making him feel the quick rise and fall of your chest. His nostrils flared as your chest instinctively moved forward into his touch. “Or do you like the idea of gettin’ caught?” He met your gaze as he spoke the words and simultaneously stroked a thumb over one of your nipples. 

Your eyes widened again, and you shook your head vehemently, while also moaning softly at his caress. This time, Frank lightly pinched your nipple and smirked as you gasped, but never pulled away from his touch. Using both hands now, Frank tugged at the soft material over your chest and pulled it down, revealing your breasts to him, your nipples hard and skin pebbled in goose flesh. He hummed contentedly and glanced back at you.

“You sure?” he teased, running his thumbnails around both your nipples before pinching and tugging at them. 

One of your hands flew to your mouth to stop the long moan of pleasure from becoming too loud. Frank chuckled lightly and drew your hand away from your face and placed it back against the wall at your side, where you’d kept both hands until now. 

“Frank,” you whispered in a tone that hinted at need and panic all at once, as he started a slow process of torturing your nipples again.

All the while, the drunk man kept looking around for something, the music too loud to tell what it was. It didn’t matter since he stayed at the other end of the room and Frank was too focused on you anyway. You kept biting at your lips as Frank worked his fingers over your breasts, fighting to stay as quiet as possible while breathing Frank’s name here and there. 

“You have no idea how fuckin’ pretty you look like this,” Frank stated in a gravely but steady voice, flicking at a nipple and enjoying the sound of your cut-off cry. 

He huffed out a fond laugh as you looked away at the praise but saw you squirming and pressing your legs together. Without another word, Frank leaned down to take one of your puffy nipples into his mouth and sucked on it with relish. 

“Frank,” you keened in a soft but still high-pitched voice, your head hitting the wall as you threw it back while thrusting your chest into his face. 

Frank groaned into your skin, biting and sucking alternatively at your flesh and feeling your legs tremble. In his stooped position, he reached the hem of your dress and slid a hand along the edge of your inner thighs. You moaned over him, and your legs immediately parted for his searching hand. His length pulsed in his pants as he reached your panties, finding them warm and soaked through with your juices. Pulling away from your chest, Frank stared at your face again, needing to see your expression as he slid his hand inside your panties from the top and stroked two fingers through your wet folds. You looked back at him with wild eyes, your lips parting as you moaned softly. Between your breasts being on full display, swollen and mouthwatering from his touch, and your shiny and bitten lips emitting panting breaths, it was ultimately the pleading in your eyes, the raw need in them that had him moving. He pressed his other hand against the wall beside your head as he slid two fingers inside you, only stopping when he couldn’t go any further. This time, both of your hands came up to muffle your scream of pleasure. He didn’t stop you, though, knowing that it would be impossible to stop your cries of ecstasy from reaching the drunk man’s ears without your hands. Frank felt a shot of smugness at that knowledge, his own arousal only getting stronger from watching you struggle to keep quiet while your burning eyes never looked away from his as Frank fucked you relentlessly. 

“Look at you, takin’ my fingers so well,” Frank rumbled in the short space between you, wanting to see your reaction to more praise. “Suckin’ them in and squeezin’ ‘round them. Bein’ so good for me.”

Sure enough, your lids quivered, and you broke eye contact while also tightening your walls even more around Frank’s fingers. 

“Shit, yeah, jus’ like that. Bet you’d feel so fuckin’ good ‘round my dick.” 

Frank smirked at your keen of pleasure and picked up the speed of his hand. One of your hands shot out to grab at his shirt, your fingers tightening and twisting in the fabric as you fought to keep your moans from spilling over your other hand. It was the first time you’d touched him, and the fact that you needed to anchor yourself to him to not lose it completely had Frank growling in satisfaction. He grinned wickedly as your eyes almost rolled back into your head as he crooked his fingers to apply more pressure right where you needed it. 

“Gettin’ close, hm?” he rumbled against your ear, drinking in your little sounds of desperation. “Wanna hear it, Sweetheart. Lemme hear how you come on my fingers.” 

Your eyes grew wide and panicked at his command, but your hand still fell to the side. Your eyes met Frank’s as you began to tremble, your channel spasming around his fingers as you started to come undone in front of him. Thankfully for you, a loud bout of clapping and celebratory shouts sounded through the whole loft as you cried out your pleasure, making it only audible for Frank, which he was more than happy with. 

Your eyes drooped, and your hand lost its grip on Frank’s shirt as you sagged against the wall with labored breaths. Slowly, Frank removed his hand from your panties and brought it to his face. His fingers and most of his hand were glistening with your essence. He groaned in delight at the first swipe of his tongue over his middle finger, which had your eyes snapping open. Disbelief and arousal shone in your eyes as you watched, mesmerized, how Frank sucked his fingers clean. 

“Good girl,” he praised with a satisfied hum once he was done with licking all traces of you off his fingers. And like before, while you’d just watched him licking up your juices without looking away once, it was the praise that had your eyes closing briefly and your expression turning shy again. 

Frank took a step away from you, giving him a complete view of your bare chest and rumpled dress. What a beautiful mess. His head tilted to the side with a curious smirk as your eyes dropped to his crotch, where the hard outline of his dick was prominent. At his low chuckle, your eyes shot to his again, before you looked away, embarrassed at being caught staring. 

“Somethin’ on your mind, Sweetheart?” He rasped, as he came closer again at the sight of you biting your bottom lip. 

Wide eyes stared back at him, and your tongue licked over your lower lip in a clearly unconscious movement. Just that sight had Frank's cock jerking behind the confines of his boxers and pants, knowing that you couldn't hide what you really wanted. He’d planned to stop there and send you on your way, but the way you kept responding to him, leaning toward him without noticing that you were doing it, had Frank changing his mind once again tonight. 

“Yeah?” He whispered roughly, tugging your lip down and sliding his thumb over the soft and wet skin. “Want me to fuck that pretty mouth?” 

Your sharp intake of breath as his words hit its mark had Frank almost reaching for his fly right then, but he took in a deep breath and leaned in to speak into your ear. 

“Then be a good girl and ask for it.” 

And fuck, that soft, pleading whine you uttered. The way you reacted to Frank was just… Hearing you beg for what you wanted while looking so damn shy was driving Frank wild with lust.

“P — please,” you got out through your labored breathing. 

Frank licked his lips and grinned, wanting to push you just that little further.

“Please what?”

You turned your head away from him and panted, expression torn between arousal and embarrassment. 

“Frank, please.”

“Hm?” Frank nosed along your neck, which had you gasping again. 

“Please … fuck my mouth,” you whispered, the words almost inaudible over the noise. 

That wouldn’t do. 

“Louder,” Frank said, his voice, which had remained mostly teasing, taking on a tone that brooked no argument. 

Frank felt you tremble against him, but he knew that it wasn’t from fear. Far from it. Leaning back just enough to be able to lock eyes with you, Frank saw your lips move quietly for a moment before you spoke again. 

“Please fuck my mouth, Frank,” you repeated, the words louder, although they remained low. You weren’t done, though. “I need it.” 

Frank grinned at your words, while his dick almost hurt with the need to be let out of its confines. “Attagirl,” he rumbled, stroking a thumb over your bottom lip before he took a small step back. 

Without further prompting, you fell to your knees and eagerly reached for his fly. Frank watched you opening his pants and lowering his boxers to let his erection spring free. You were both momentarily distracted as the drunk man finally found what he’d been looking for with a shout of satisfaction and exited the room before slamming the door. To Frank's delight, the man forgot to turn off the light, leaving Frank able to keep watching you in your half naked state. He saw your whole body relax at the knowledge that you were finally alone. A second later, you wrapped your fingers around his length and took him into your mouth without hesitation. Frank hissed as you didn’t waist any time with quick licks and small movements to find out what Frank liked. Instead, you made sure to slick the whole length with your saliva before you took him as far as you could. Frank growled at the sight of your stretched lips, trying to accommodate his size. 

“So fuckin’ eager for this,” Frank grunted in approval, but grabbed you by the back of the head and tilted it back to still your movements. 

With your eyes on his, you understood what he wanted and let your mouth fall open for Frank to push inside. Testing how far he could go, Frank pushed in to the back of your throat in a slow glide. You gagged faintly on the second pass, but you only surged forward for more. Frank cursed and snapped his hips forward, which had you moaning and him chuckling in satisfaction at your reaction. Now that it was only the two of you, you didn’t hesitate anymore, and openly moaned and keened around his cock with each of his slides in. Frank kept his hand on your head, but he wasn’t holding you in place at all. You weren’t going anywhere, more than content to pleasure him. 

“Frank?” suddenly called a voice from the corridor leading down to the room. You seemed to recognize Karen’s voice at the same time as Frank, since your eyes grew wide as Frank thrust into your mouth again. 

“We ain’t stoppin’ now,” Frank stated firmly, as his cock twitched with a fast approaching orgasm, while his hand tightened on your head. 

You moaned and choked briefly as Frank slid as far inside as you could take, your eyes conveying how turned on you were while also showing a hint of panic. Like earlier, it was the need in your eyes that pushed Frank’s buttons. He slid out of your mouth and started jerking himself off with quick strokes. 

“Fuck,” he growled as you shuffled closer again to press your tongue against the underside of his cock, telling him exactly was you wanted. 

He came with a tight groan as he shot all over your tongue, coating it with his thick and warm fluid. You closed your eyes as you moaned at the taste, letting Frank slide back between your lips for a lazy thrust. 

“Frank?” Karen called out again, her voice coming through the opening door just as you were swallowing Frank’s come. 

You stood instantly, tugging your dress back up with a frantic look on your face. Frank pressed you against the wall while he slotted a palm over your mouth. Footsteps sounded from the door and Frank felt more than heard your gasp. 

“Right here, Karen,” Frank replied with an easy tone that belied just how hard he’d just come. “Be out in a sec.” 

“Oh, sure.” The footsteps stopped before they retreated a few paces. 

Letting go of you, Frank quietly opened the door to the bathroom and reached for the faucet to open it, giving the illusion that he was just coming out of the room. 

“Oh, by the way, you haven’t seen my friend from the Bulletin?”

Glancing back at your surprised expression as you were fixing your appearance, Frank made a thoughtful sound before he answered. 

“The pretty one?” Frank wondered with a grin as your eyes widened before you looked away, shyness returning, much to Frank's enjoyment.

Karen snorted at that. “Yup, the one you keep watching from afar.” 

Your eyes snapped back to meet Frank’s equally surprised gaze. Karen really did see everything. Chuckling lightly, Frank leaned in to graze his lips over yours in a brief caress before he stepped around the wall and towards Karen, who was waiting at the door. 

“Nope, haven’t seen her.”

[avelera]

Parallels Between "Arcane" and "Puella Magi Madoka Magica"

Here it is, the meta I've been chewing over since Season 2 of "Arcane" was still in progress. I have been side-eying certain elements of Arcane since Act 1, wondering if the parallels with the anime "Puella Magi Madoka Magica" I was seeing were really there, and Act 3 confirmed it.

So to give a quick abstract of what I want to explore, here are the overarching similarities between these two genre-defining masterpieces of animation:

1 ) A time loop story in which one member of a partnership is repeatedly going back in time to save the other and prevent an apocalypse.

2 ) A system of magic that at first seems benign and is utilized to help humanity, only for its users to learn this magic isn't a blessing, it's a curse.

3 ) Resonance between their art and music. Both "Madoka" and "Arcane" are noteworthy for their visual artistic flare, which makes Madoka a likely inspiration for Arcane, in both the visual art and the music.

This is the short version. Now let's dive into more details on these resonances between the stories that I would argue are too similar to not be a homage on at least some level.

1 ) For those unfamiliar, "Puella Magi Madoka Magica" is eminently worth your time and the greatest subversion of the anime "magical girl" genre I've ever seen, which it accomplishes by taking many magical girl tropes to their natural, horrifying conclusion.

This essay is going to delve into a lot of spoilers for "Madoka" so if you haven't seen it yet, I highly recommend you stop reading now and go watch it. At 12 episodes of about 22 minutes each, it's an easy and magnificent watch.

For those familiar with Arcane and Madoka, let's dive right in.

In episode 11 of Madoka, we learn that the forbidding figure of Homura who has dogged the narrative and repeatedly prevented our protagonist, Madoka, from becoming a magical girl in a puzzling subversion of the genre finally reveals the truth: she is Madoka's best friend from a previous timeline. She has been resetting the universe, reliving the same few weeks in a Sisyphean hellscape trying to find a way to save Madoka from a coming apocalypse. She has navigated every eventuality but, tragically, with each one she feels herself becoming more unrecognizable to the person she loves.

Sound familliar?

Viktor = Homura Akemi

Jayce = Madoka Kaname

Both Wizard Viktor and Homura reveal the truth of the timeline loops they have suffered through. They do so in a visually otherworldly location, surrounded by images of their past failures, in a place that feels set out of time from the rest of the world. There, they give an impassioned explanation to their loved ones, Madoka and Jayce respectively, about the evil they are fighting to prevent, and how they have suffered through these time loops in order to try to save their loved one and themselves.

Though Wizard Viktor doesn't say this line directly about watching Jayce die over and over, it is heavily implied that each failure of a timeline where Jayce doesn't convince Viktor to set aside the Glorious Evolution ends here: with Jayce's assimilated corpse at the top of the Hexgates.

When Acts 1 & 2 first dropped, I began to suspect that we were looking at a time loop of some sort, but because of Jayce's appearance in 2.05/2.06 and his seeming foreknowledge of events, I had assumed that Jayce was the one who had traveled through time, making him the Homura of the story.

But once it's revealed in Act 3 that Viktor is the Homura of the story, a staggering number of parallels fall into place between Arcane and Madoka:

Homura in the first timeline is a sickly girl who is often shunned and ignored by others. As a result, when the warm, affectionate Madoka enters her life, Homura is immediately struck by her kindness. She will eventually swear her life to saving Madoka.

The visual parallels get quite striking there in some instances.

Both Homura and Viktor spending a great deal of time in the hospital and suffer from ill health, until magic cures their condition. Once they are no longer sick, they embark on the time loops to prevent the events certain events that both lead to disaster, and that are the events that gave them the power to overcome their poor health and time itself in the first place, in a self-replicating paradox.

Here, for example, is a side by side visual of both of them going back to earlier versions of their loved to try yet again to set events into motion that will eventually lead to their salvation. When they do so, they appear as a mysterious, forbidding figure with unknown magic at their disposal. Both at first terrify the person they love with their appearance, and at the same time, introduce the first hints of magic into their lives.

Viktor's time loops take place mostly off screen, while Homura's are shown as part of the main story, they both lead to the same conclusion.

Of course, you don't have to take my word for it that this the parallels between Homura/Madoka and Viktor/Jayce are a direct reference.

Once Jayce and Viktor, and Madoka and Homura respectively, overcome the challenges they face and find a way to use the magic that has damned them to find a solution that will save the world and prevent an apocalypse, both ascend to an astral plane of existence for one last reunion and embrace.

In a scene that is nearly goddamn identical in terms of tone, visuals, and blocking. Both are stripped down to just their essences, naked against the cosmos, and holding one another in an embrace brought about by their love for one another and acknowledgement of all they have done to save each other, over and over.

2 ) Similar magic systems - As striking as the character parallels are between Jayce and Viktor and Madoka and Homura, I don't think the resonance would be as strong if the underlying magic systems of the two stories weren't so similar.

In "Madoka" 1.11, Kyubey the magical creature who grants the girls their powers reveals the truth of the wishes they make, and how those wishes will always turn into a curse.

"All hopes are wishes for something other than the current reality, after all."

(Like defying gravity, perhaps?)

"And anything that doesn’t match reality is bound to create a distortion."

"So why is it surprising that these things always end in disaster? If they considered such a natural outcome to be a betrayal, they were wrong to have made a wish at all."

As Jayce says in Arcane 2.05, "Hextech isn't a miracle. It's a curse."

The fact the magic systems are so similar in their consequences is what lends weight to the fact that Viktor's off screen journey is so much like Homura's, in which he must travel back in time to thread the needle on the exact sequence of events that will both spare Jayce, allow Viktor and Jayce to meet so they can create Hextech which allows the paradox to happen at all, and spare the world the Machine Herald apocalypse (in which, ironically, magical science boy Viktor becomes a witch in his own right, tearing apart the world), and somehow get them to the other side.

In the end, like in Madoka, the only way to save the world is to become celestial beings that erase the curse of their magic, and themselves, from existence.

3 ) A similar artistic flare, in both visuals and music. Madoka and Arcane are highly artistic works that don't just rely on their strong stories to carry the day. They also have resonance in their superb art and music, that to me seem to be in conversation with each other.

For example, the song "Magia" from Madoka and "To Ashes and Blood" from Arcane (which is arguably Jayce's song) to my ears share what sounds like a striking resonance of a rock song juxtaposed with a primal chorus that invokes the wild forces of magic that the protagonists have unknowingly unleashed and must now face. You're welcome to disagree, and whether it was deliberate is very questionable, but I at least hear it.

Finally, I should at least give one nod to what I think are the visual resonances between the two shows as well, though I think the best way to really explore them is to watch "Madoka" and "Arcane" through. This is just one that stuck out to me.

Madoka Magica was noteworthy for its use of artistic flare, especially when exploring the witches. While the visual styles of the two shows are very different, there are moments like the one above where I saw similarities or at least inspiration.

The fact that both shows pushed the boundaries of animation not only indicates to me that they belong in the same category but also, that Arcane was certainly looking back at Madoka as one source of inspiration.

[wlntrsldler]

hii, could you maybe maybe do like luke x reader human au and their eachothers gym crush and their always asking one another to spot eachother?? preferably fluff????

you promised yourself that you'd start going to the gym again once the new year and spring semester started. you'd been feeling bogged down by the responsibilities and workload of fall semester and it left you unmotivated to go work out. but one thing about you, if you were going to pay thousands of dollars to attend your college, you were going to use every. single. amenity.

which is how you found yourself at your school community gym ending your ten-minute, intense warmup on the stair master. you severely overestimated your stamina. you were hunched over, gripping the hand rail as you tried to catch your breath. you took a sip of water, wiping the sweat off your brow as you made your way to the weights.

you scanned the room, taking mental note that not having noon classes was a good thing because the gym was virtually empty with many students in class. there were a few people in the gym but not enough to have to wait for people to finish up on the machines. your eyes landed on a boy doing arm curls in the mirror. he grunted after every pump, scrunching his face in exhaustion as his muscles constricted under his tank top. his curls were stuck on his skin, sweat dripping down the side of his face. you were glad his eyes were closed because the way you were staring at him was borderline creepy.

you couldn't help it. he was insanely attractive.

you blinked, shaking your head as you looked down at your feet. you walked by in front of him, trying to get to the weight racks. his eyes fluttered open at the sound of you shuffling in front of him. you met his eyes on the mirror in front of you, sending him a shy smile. he stopped his actions, dumb struck as he watched your lips curl into a smile. it took him a minute to return your actions, but then he smiled, and your knees almost buckled. he was so handsome.

you picked up the ten pound weights, which seemed silly compared to the fifty he was lifting, and waddled to the empty bench two spots away from him. you could feel his eyes on you as you adjusted the bench to the correct position. you tried to tell yourself that the flush on your cheeks was due to your workout and not because of the boy shamelessly staring at you.

eventually, he peeled his eyes away from you, but he still snuck glances at you. there were a few instances where your eyes met and you'd both blush furiously before looking away, embarrassed that you were both caught. when he finished his reps, he stacked the weights where they belonged and made his way to the machine in the corner of the room, where you had a perfect view of him.

he seemed to know exactly what to do. it seems like he was in the gym often, which was unsurprising given his build. it was clear he worked out or played a sport, at the very least. you re-racked your weights and walked over to the leg press. you tried out a few weights before finding the right level for you. you breezed past the first two sets of your workout, but found yourself struggling on your third and final set.

"shit," you mumbled, straining your legs. note to self: start out slow. don't get cocky or else you'll put yourself in a position where your legs might snap off.

you were pushing the leg press with all your might, hand fumbling to find the emergency lever on the machine, but to no avail. and then the pressure disappeared. and when you opened your eyes, the cute gym boy was hovering over you, a concerned look on his face.

"you okay?" he asked, offering you a hand to get up from the machine.

you accepted his hand and cringed, "yeah, i haven't done this in a while and i pushed myself too hard, i think."

"pushing yourself is fine, but you gotta be careful," he said, voice still laced with concern. "wouldn't want you to get hurt."

"thanks," you replied, reaching for your water bottle on the floor to take a sip.

"i'm uh-- luke," he introduced himself, a timid smile on his lips. up close, he was even more gorgeous, which felt a little unfair. he had a scar on the side of his face that made him look rugged. you wanted to reach over and trace the raised flesh with your thumb.

"y/n, nice to meet you."

"do you need a spot?" luke questioned, a shade of red creeping up his neck. he was looking down, scruffing the bottom of his converses on the gym floor.

"oh, i don't wanna take time away from your workout," you waved off.

"no, it's fine. i'm almost done, anyway." this was a lie. he wasn't even half-way through his workout, but he wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to spend time with the pretty girl at the gym. he'd been watching you since he saw you, waiting for the right time to strike a conversation. it was unfortunate that an almost-injury was the opening he got. "i don't mind, i swear."

"well, then, yes. i'd really appreciate it," you smiled, getting back on the machine. luke's heart was hammering in his chest as you smiled up at him. "thanks, luke."

he gulped, blushing when his name left your lips, "don't mention it."

luke stayed glued to your side for the rest of your workout. he corrected your form, partly to have an excuse to touch you, and whispered praises in your ear that made your shiver. good job, y/n. one more, you got it. that's what i'm talking about.

after every set, luke would beam at you and raise his hands in a double high-five. you spotted him for his workouts, which deemed unnecessary because he didn't need a spotter, but he liked having you so close to him. he also hit some new prs because of it, but you didn't need to know that.

at the end of your impromptu gym session, luke asked for your phone number (for gym and spotting purposes, of course) which you gladly gave him. he waited for you outside the women's locker room as you grabbed your gym bag and walked out of the gym with you.

luke hesitated before he started walking to his dorm on the opposite side of campus from yours, "so, same time tomorrow?"

"it's a date," you teased, biting your bottom lip.

"can't wait."

you had a feeling you were going to stick it out for this new year's resolution.

[fictionalcharactersaremypassion]

Caught

Panic came over Fiona when she awoke that morning, finding herself in a bedroom that was not her own. Slivers of sunlight streamed in between the closed curtains, the sounds of soft breathing beside her made her instantly remember last night’s events. 

“Fuck,” she said quietly. “Fuck. Colin, get up.” He stirred somewhat, mumbling incoherently. She shoved him. “Get up!” 

“The fuck do you want?” He groaned, rubbing at his eyes. 

“It’s morning, you fucking idiot,” she whispered furiously. 

He held her thigh, still looking sleepy. “Calm down.” 

“Oh, yeah. That’s what every woman wants to hear,” she snarked. 

“Everyone’s probably still asleep,” Colin said, ignoring that. “Just go out the front door.” 

“And if they’re not?” 

“I don’t fucking know,” Colin shrugged. “It’s too damn early to think right now.” 

She rolled her eyes. Sliding out of bed, she pulled her underwear and bra on, staying as quiet as she possibly could. 

“You looked better without them on,” came Colin’s smart ass remark as she looked around for her shirt. 

“One more remark like that and you’ll never see my tits again,” she said, to which he held his hands up, smirking. “Now where the hell’s my shirt?” 

“Hey, hey,” Colin waved a hand to get her attention, then pointed at his dresser. “Over there.” 

She turned, eyebrows furrowing, spotting it laying atop the dresser. “I didn’t put this here.” 

“I did,” he said, the blanket falling down to his abdomen, “when I got up to piss.” 

She narrowed her eyes. “And what time was that?” 

He shrugged. “Four or whatever. I don’t know.” 

“And you didn’t wake me?” She said, incredulous. 

“You seemed like you needed it.” A grin spread over his face. “Plus, you get kinda bitchy when you’re tired.” 

She rolled her eyes, pulling the shirt over her head. “Fuck you.” 

They had this thing going on for a while now. A thing that neither one of them brought up to properly define. It was more fucking, for sure, but they were both wary after so many shitty attempts at relationships. Best to just take it slow and see where it took them. 

“You did plenty of that last night,” Colin said smoothly. She paused, taking in the hickeys she’d left along his bare shoulder. 

“Shit,” she said with a slight laugh. “Sorry about that.” 

“You hear me complainin’?” Colin’s gaze slid over her body appreciatively. And it didn’t feel like the way those sleazy guys at work did. Come to think of it, nothing with Colin ever resembled any of the guys she’d been with before. Fuck, is she actually fallin’ for a Milkovich? “You got work today?” 

“Not ‘till later,” she replied, buttoning her jeans. “Why?” 

He didn’t respond right away, making her look up. It might just be a trick of the light, but Fiona thought he might actually be blushing. 

“It’s fucking stupid,” he said. “Never mind.” 

“No, what is it?” she said curiously. 

Colin rubbed the side of his nose, reminding her of the way she’d seen Mickey rub his eyebrow in the few instances they were in each other’s presence. Must have been a Milkovich thing. “If you were hungry,” he said, trying to come off as indifferent, “I know this cheap diner we could go to.” 

Her eyebrows flew up. “You’re askin’ me out to breakfast?” 

The question made him uncomfortable. “You said you wanted more than just fucking.” 

“Yeah,” she said, surprising herself with how much she did want it, “yeah. I did.” 

“Is that a yes, then?” Colin asked. She saw beneath his exterior that she was actually hopeful, and that just wasn’t something she was used to seeing on a Milkovich. 

She toyed with her hair, making it look a bit more presentable and less disheveled. “Look, I would if I had the money. But I’ve got the electric to think about it-” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Colin cut her off. “I got enough for both of us.” 

“I can’t ask you to do that,” she shook her head. 

“You didn’t ask. I’m offering,” he sat up now, the blanket pooling in his lap. “And if you really want to pay me back, then you can always give me a blow job-” 

He broke out into soft laughter when she gave him an unamused look. 

“You’re a jackass.” 

“I’m kidding,” he assured her, still chuckling. “But I wasn’t kidding about paying. You can pay next time if you want.” 

“You’re already thinking about a next time, huh?” Fiona smiled, despite that nagging twinge telling her to reconsider. Sue her. She fuckin’ liked him. “Alright. Fine, you can pay. But this place better have good coffee.” 

He grinned. It was a damn good smile too. She briefly wished he did it more often. 

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to tell the kids, though,” she said thoughtfully. They’ll be awake soon enough and notice that she’s not there. 

“Nothing if you move fast enough,” Colin swung his legs over the edge of the bed, reaching for the pair of shorts closests to him. Her eyes were drawn to his bare upper half, watching the muscles in his back flex as he bent down to find a t-shirt to throw on. 

“You’re a fucking creep, Gallagher,” came Colin’s teasing voice, snapping her out of her thoughts. 

Fuck, she was busted. 

“I saw you staring,” Colin was looking at her again, smirking. “You like what you see?” 

“There’s not much to see,” she replied, going that route instead of acknowledging that his question had made her face feel unusually warm. 

“That what you’re going with, Sweetheart?” Colin stood to his full height, pushing the curtains open. 

“Don’t call me that,” Fiona rolled her eyes. She was going to start walking out but Colin had other ideas; he wrapped a strong arm around her waist, gently pulling her back. Her hair was pushed out of the way, giving him access to her neck. She pressed her lips together, fighting the urge to squirm. Fuck, he knew just where to go. “Hey, if you want to have breakfast, I’ll have go home and freshen up.” 

“Hang on,” he mumbled in between kisses. 

“I swear to God if you give me a fucking hickey, Milkovich, I’ll rip your dick off.” 

“That’s kinda turning me on, not gonna lie...” 

“Oh my God,” she muttered, and he huffed out a laugh. She lightly shoved him away. “I’m gettin’ out of here before your brothers or Mandy wake up.” 

“They won’t be up this early, trust me.” 

The two of them crept out of Colin's room. The rest of the house was silent, much to Fiona’s relief. She didn’t need anyone seeing them. The last thing she wanted to do was explain what all this was between them. 

“I still can’t believe we fucked while they were home,” she mumbled. 

“They probably just think you’re some whore I brought home,” he said with a shrug, to which she scoffed. 

“Thanks.” 

“Hey, I didn’t call you the whore,” Colin said, keeping his voice down. She snorted. “Okay, looks like they’re all sleeping. Just head out and we’ll meet back up in twenty.” 

Fiona saw something in her peripheral that made her freeze. She whirled around, figuring it to be one of Colin’s brothers, only to gawk. 

“Ian?” 

Her brother froze too, staring at them with wide eyes. “Fiona?” He squeaked out, voice noticeably a higher pitch. 

She couldn’t help but notice his rumpled clothing and the messy hair. “What the fuck? What are you doing here?” 

Ian looked a little panicked. “What are you doing here?” He yelped. 

“Did you come from Mandy's room?” Colin demanded, butting into the conversation, his protective instincts coming out. 

“N-no!” 

“I swear to God if you were fucking my baby sister-” Colin hissed. 

“I wasn’t!” 

“Okay, okay,” Fiona put a hand on his chest to calm him. Ian gawked at this momentarily, but was a little more focused on not getting murdered.“Don’t fucking touch him.” 

“I wasn’t with Mandy,” Ian said hurriedly. “I swear I wasn’t!” 

“Then why the fuck are you here?” 

“Colin,” Fiona snapped. “Calm the fuck down. Jesus.” 

“Fi-” Colin started with a sigh. 

“If you touch him, Colin, I swear to God-” 

“Alright, alright! I won’t touch him. He still owes me an explanation.” 

“And you’ll get it,” Fiona said, looking at Ian expectantly. 

“Um, well-” Ian said weakly. 

“Goddamn it, Gallagher, what’s all the noise about? Did you wake my brother up?” A new voice complained, and out came Mickey from his room, stopping dead in his tracks when he saw all of them standing there. “Fuck...” 

Ian shut his eyes, one hand covering his face. 

It didn’t take Colin long to connect the dots. “Holy shit,” he said in disbelief. 

Fiona was just as shocked. This was not what she expected to happen this morning. Although, she couldn’t help but notice the way Mickey stiffened up when his eyes landed on his brother. Not a surprise, given the Milkovich’s asshole of a father. 

“You’re a fag, Mick?” Colin said, completely caught off guard. “Since when?” 

She whacked him hard for that one. “Hey,” she said sharply. 

Colin gave her a look in return. “What? I don’t give a shit. I’m just askin’.” 

Ian tried to do damage control, which she suspected was to save face for Mickey, and blurted out, “I-I was just returning something to Mickey. I, uh, borrowed it from him and I thought I should bring it back before he punches me or something.” 

Colin snorted. Mickey looked like he was seconds away from actually punching him right then and there. 

“Do you think we’re fucking stupid?” The second oldest Milkovich said to no one in particular. Then, he asked staright up: “Gallagher, are you fucking my brother?” 

“No. I mean yes but-” Ian faltered, trying to come up with the right words. He looked at Mickey, and their silent communication lasted for several moments. Taking a deep breath, he finally said, “Me and Mickey aren’t just fucking. He’s my boyfriend.” 

Fiona felt like her mind was blown. Jesus. “How long has this been going on?” 

“A couple of months,” Mickey answered cautiously. He was still glancing at Colin. 

“Seriously?” Fiona didn��t know how she’d missed this. Wouldn’t she have known if Ian was sneaking off? 

“Hold the fuck on then,” Colin said suddenly, “I thought you and Mandy were dating? That’s what she told us.” 

“It’s fake,” Ian said quickly. “She offered to pretend to be my girlfriend at school. I keep the creepy guys away and no one suspects I’m gay.” 

Colin rubbed his face tiredly. “Jesus. It’s too fucking early for all of this.” 

Fiona definitely agreed. 

There was silence for a couple of seconds. Ian’s eyes darted from her to Colin. “Are you guys together too?” 

Mickey looked interested in hearing the answer as well. 

“We’re-” Fiona didn’t know how to explain it. What were they? They weren’t just fuck buddies. They were both interested in taking this further, but at the moment? She didn’t know what they were. 

“Yeah,” Colin took the reins and said. He placed his hand on her lower back. Fiona unconsciously leaned into his touch. 

“I stayed here last night,” she admitted. 

“That’s probably why we heard all the thuds,” Mickey said to Ian, casually. Fiona was mortified. Ian just grimaced. 

“Jesus, Mick. Don’t say things like that.” 

“Did I offend your delicate sensibilities, Gallagher?”

Ian, seemingly forgetting who he was in front of, just grinned. “Didn’t think I was so delicate last night.” 

“Okay, no,” Fiona said loudly. “You’re not going to do that in front of me. You two can fuck or be boyfriends and shit all you want, but I don’t need to know anything about my brother’s sex life.” 

Ian flushed, ducking his head. 

“Me either,” Colin added. 

“Sorry,” Ian offered an apology, and she rolled her eyes fondly. 

Her brother seemed alright, if just a bit surprised that they were both dating Milkovich’s. But Fiona had been studying Mickey for a couple of minutes now and he seemed close to fleeing or shitting his pants. It reminded her a little of when Ian came out; he’d been nervous too. She could only imagine how he must be feeling right now. 

But even in the midst of this, she saw Mickey’s eyes glancing her brother’s way, his face softening and for a moment, he wasn’t one of South Side’s notorious thugs, but just a kid that was clearly in love. 

“We should probably head out,” Fiona said, referencing to herself and Ian. “Come on.” 

Colin spoke up, “Are we still on?” 

She turned, a smile lighting up her face. “We’re still on.” 

“On for what?” Ian said curiously. 

“More fucking, probably,” Mickey shrugged. 

“Fuck off,” Colin swatted him upside the head. “It ain’t like that, dickhead. We’re going out.” 

“Your brother’s secretly a gentleman,” Fiona told Mickey, who scoffed. 

“Since fucking when?” 

“Keep talkin’, fuck head. You did plenty of shit as a kid that I’ll gladly tell Gallagher,” Colin threatened. Mickey, much to her amusement, blanched a little. 

“Technically we’re both Gallaghers,” Ian pointed out. 

“You know damn well what I meant, Red.” 

“Come on,” Fiona smirked, a hand on her brother’s shoulder. “Let’s get back before the others wake up. I don’t need Carl blowing up the house.” 

Ian nodded, his gaze settling on Mickey. “Bye Mickey,” he said shyly. “You should stop by Kash and Grab later. You know, if you want to.” 

“Yeah, sure. Whatever,” Mickey said like he didn’t care. 

Colin snorted. “Some relationship you’ve got there.” 

“Shut the fuck up.” 

Fiona made a bold move of taking Colin by the hand, pulling him towards the door. “You can go on,” she told Ian, who didn’t need to be told twice, so now it was only three of them. “Bye Mickey,” she called. 

Mickey grunted, and went back to his room, slamming the door shut. 

“Make sure you talk to him,” Fiona said, realizing that she was still holding onto his hand. 

“About what?” Colin said, slightly confused. 

“About him being gay,” Fiona said carefully. 

“Why the fuck do we have to talk about it? I don’t care where he sticks his dick.” 

“That’s not the point,” Fiona sighed. “We both know how Terry is. He needs to know you aren’t going to kick his ass over it.” 

Colin met her eyes. He nodded, understanding now. “Okay. I’ll talk to him.” 

“Make sure he’s okay,” she added. “And don’t pressure him to tell Iggy or Mandy. It’s his choice.” 

“I know that,” he said, looking serious. “I’d never do that to him.” 

“Good,” Fiona glanced down at their still conjoined hands, and let go. “See you in twenty?” 

“See ya, Gallagher.” 

Fiona walked back home with a grin on her face. Unlike the other guys in her past, she had a good feeling about Colin Milkovich. 

[astraule]

"My Yawnetu"

Pairing: A’Onung x Reader Song: My Vine - Wasia Project TW: Mentions of war Y/N: She/Her Omaticaya reader, daughter of Tsu’Tey. Word Count: 1K Summary: You live with the Sullys after your father's death. A'Onung becomes attached to you in pretty much no time. You find him one day at the lake, showing strong feelings of sadness. He invites you to talk inside his mauri pod. During your conversation, A'Onung would want to protect you. You tell him how much you trust him, and the two of you share a poignant moment. In many instances, the speech is in Na'vi, but any word that appears in red is a Na'vi word which I have deliberately not translated, for effect. It is also important to note that traditionally it would be very common for a female Na'vi to take on her mother's name as a part of her own; however, I bucked this trend by making Y/N share Tsu'Tey's name. Queues are a matter of great importance, although they do not contain any sexual action in the mating processes.

Y/N POV: (Metkayina Shores)

It had been about 16 years since the war that had taken my father's life when I was still a baby. Now, I was among the Sullys. Jake became my new father and Neytiri my new mother. And siblings; Kiri, Lo'ak, Neteyam, and Tuk. I loved them so much, but pieces of my father were with me wherever I went. His very essence was even woven into the making of my name, Y/N te Suli Tsu'Tey'ite.

As Jake tried to utter on behalf of Uturu, the Tsahik of the clan quickly grabbed Kiri's hand up high. "These children aren't even real Na'vi," she said, and Kiri quickly drew her hand back, whispering, "Yes, we are." "They carry demon blood," Ronal said, this was met with a wave of gasps through the rest of the clan.

Jake raised his arm to shoulder height and shouted, "Listen, I come from the sky people, but now I am one of the Na'vi. We can change. We will change. Right?" His voice implored as he petitioned his case. The clan's Olo'eyktan looked to his partner, the Tsahik, who after a few moments nodded.

"Our son A'Onung and daughter Tsireya will take your children under their wings." Tonowari, the Olo'eyktan, listened as A'Onung groaned, "Why, Father?" but he quickly shushed him. "Come, I want to show you around our village," Tsireya chimed brightly.

(Dock, Months Later)

"Tsamsiyu hi'i" A'Onung settled beside me, the nickname he had grown fond of, small warrior. Among the Sully children, he held a special respect for just two of us, me and Neteyam. I could see he was starting to warm up to the others, but it would take some time. "A'Onung," I greeted him, letting my feet dangle in the water.

"It wasn't my intention for your brother to disappear," he said, trying to sound apologetic. "Your intentions don't change the outcome; you let him down," I said, holding his gaze. "What truly matters now is how you plan on making amends." Many of the Omaticaya that knew my father said that I reminded them of him.

A’Onung POV:

Her Tanhi shimmied enchantingly beneath the starlit sky. The past few months she and her family had been here, I found myself growing fond of her much like how Lo'ak had become close to my sister. But what would the future hold? If Y/N and her family were fleeing from conflict, would she have to leave once more?

“You know… a few young hunters and I are going hunting tomorrow, and we could really use a Tsamsiyu to lead the way,” I suggested. Hopefully she will join us. "My father was the warrior, I have a big legacy to uphold," she said, her eyes once more straying down to the water.

"Absolutely, you and Neteyam are really the closest to warriors among our peers, which is why I value both of you so highly." I said with my eyes upon the water beside her. "My father fought with Toruk Macto; he was once the apprentice to the Olo'eyktan before taking on that role himself for a time until his passing. Dad was both Toruk Macto and Olo'eyktan. Great destinies lie ahead of Neteyam and me to fulfill. You, too, are the son of your father, the Olo’eyktan; do you not want to be just like him?” She replied.

"My father thinks I’m a disappointment," I revealed, right before she was taken aback in horror. "That is not even close to the truth. People make mistakes, yet those do not define them as disappointments. You hold the key to the future of your clan, and you do the best you can with what you are provided. That is far from being a disappointment. I know your father knows this, too," she said, placing her hand reassuringly on my shoulder.

In that swift moment, my lips touched hers, a moment I had been waiting for after months of forbearance, terrified of being turned away. But just as she seemed ready to return it, she caught my shoulders and gently pushed me back. "A'Onung… I can't." With that, she hurried off, leaving me standing on the dock feeling utterly foolish.

Y/N POV: (Sully Mauri Pod)

Jake sat beside me, swinging his feet over the edge of the water. "So, you're not fond of him?" he asked casually. I shook my head, spilling my tears down my cheeks. "It's not that, Dad. He's just the only boy I really ever felt a connection with." I said this during a moment of my weakness as his hand rubbed my back in comfort.

"Sometimes, I wish that Tsu'Tey were here. He had this hard exterior, but I think he would be great in these talks with you." He took a deep breath. "I don't even remember him, and I feel this deep sense of loss." I said, hiding my face in my hands. "I can only imagine how you feel, sweetheart." Jake replied.

"Listen, if you really love the son of Olo'eytan, then go ahead, darling. Let our past experiences not be your stumbling block," Jake said as he looked into my eyes. "But suppose I end up hurting him…" I replied, doubt setting in. "That would not be a problem if he truly loves you," he assured.

(Water Shore)

"The hunting party is on the way back." A'Onung and several other boys broke the water surface. I had been waiting for them to get back, but A'Onung seemed to be in a bad mood as he walked right past me in silence.

I would not let this bother me; I needed to take control. I reached for his wrist, and when he turned toward me, I pressed my lips against his. Sure enough, he released the fish in his hand, pulled me close to his body by my waist, and kissed me back. "A'Onung, come on, you can have your moment with your yawnetu later. We need to bring these fish to your dad." A boy said, appearing from the water.

Losing his hold on me gently, A'Onung said to me, "Join me; we can chat at my mauri pod." Then he just picked up the fish that lay at his feet, grasped my hand, and set off.

(Olo’eyktan Mauri Pod)

Once everyone relocated to give A'Onung and me some space, we sat cross-legged on the ground facing each other. "What was that all about? Just yesterday, you didn't seem too keen on the idea of us kissing," he asked, staring down into my eyes, and I felt my nerves.

“It would seem that conflict is laid at my family's doorstep; I wouldn't want to put you in harm's way…" I whispered, eyes cast to my hands. "But if that is so, then who watches your back?" he repeated softly, his fingers intertwining into mine. "Let me be your protector," he said, his eyes locking with mine in a heated stare.

"Let me protect you… let me be your shadow that follows you." He repeated, as his hand stroked my cheek barely. "My shadow…" I repeated, trying to understand.

A'Onung looked at me, a soft blush coloring his cheeks. "I want to pick you, but I hope you'll pick me back…," he admitted. "I… I choose you, A'Onung," I replied, reaching out to show him my kuru, mirroring his gesture.

With just a few moments of hesitation, we wrapped our kurus together in tsahelu and were now linked as mates. Within the bonded mind-link, flash images of our memories played within one another's minds until we released our kurus.

We knelt together, embracing each other tightly, and he whispered, "My yawnetu, all would I give to keep you safe." With that, we leaned in for a kiss. 

I think I may write a Neteyam x Reader story, having the reader be Tsu'Tey's daughter. This will be a bit different since Tsu'Tey would still be alive in this story, so look out for that!

[linguisticdiscovery]

7 undeciphered writing systems

(While reading, remember that it’s possible to decipher a script and still not understand the language that the script represents.)

(Each heading links to that script's respective Wikipedia page.)

Byblos Syllabary

The Byblos syllabary is attested in 10 inscriptions found in Byblos, a coastal city in Lebanon. It likely represents a Semitic language, but despite a handful of attempts at decipherment, there still isn’t a consensus as to what sound each character represents.

Cypro-Minoan Syllabary

The Cypro-Minoan syllabary appears on ~250 objects—especially clay balls and cylinders that were used for recording economic transactions—on the island of Cyprus.

The script suddenly disappears in 950 BCE and was replaced by the Cypriot syllabary, which was used to write Greek, and based on Cypro-Minoan. This evolution allows us to infer the sounds of some of the signs in Cypro-Minoan, but we still don’t know what language it represented—probably either Minoan or Eteocypriot.

There are only ~2,500 total instances of signs for Cypro-Minoan, which is significantly less than Linear B when it was deciphered (~30,000).

Indus Valley Script

The Indus Valley script is known from ~4,000 objects with very short inscriptions found in and around the Indus Valley, and represents the Harappan language (the unknown language of the Indus Valley civilization).

It has about 400 distinct signs, which is too many for each sign to represent a single sound or syllable, but too few for each sign to represent a word. Scholars thus think the system is logo-syllabic (basically a mix of the two).

Linear A

Linear A: Everybody’s favorite mysterious undeciphered script. Linear A was used by the Minoans on the island of Crete, and is called “linear” because the script is written by cutting lines into clay, rather than pressing wedges into clay like cuneiform.

Linear A was adapted to write Mycenean Greek and became Linear B (deciphered in the 1950s), and because of this we can infer many of the sound values of symbols in Linear A. However, 80% of Linear A’s signs are unique, not shared with Linear B.

Linear A itself probably developed from the earlier Cretan hieroglyphs, which are also undeciphered.

Phaistos Disk

The Phaistos Disk. Also from the Minoan civilization on Crete, yet seemingly unrelated to Linear A. This disk is the only certain attestation of this (assumed) script, spiraling around both sides. There are 242 tokens comprising 45 distinct signs.

The Phaistos Disk also happens to be an early example of moving type printing, since each character was made by pressing seals into clay.

Proto-Elamite

The Proto-Elamite script developed alongside Proto-Cuneiform, and was used for similar functions and in similar ways until it was replaced by cuneiform. Proto-Elamite, like cuneiform, began as a system of marking tokens and spheres with details of economic transactions.

Rongorongo

Rongorongo is a system of glyphs used on Rapa Nui (Easter Island), found only on about two dozen wooden objects. According to oral history, the tablets were considered sacred, and only a small elite class could read them. Unfortunately, that tradition was wiped out after slaving raids and epidemics caused the collapse of Rapa Nui society.

Though the glyphs, if they are writing, undoubtedly represent the Rapa Nui language, little is known about it because modern Rapa Nui has had heavy influence from Tahitian.

---

Want to learn more about the world’s writing systems and their history? Check out my curated list of books on Writing & Writing Systems!

[lopposting]

Some more Lies of P translation notes!

Some cool translation details that I thought were fun that didn't fit anywhere else.

[long!]

[Spoilers]

In the Korean version, Geppetto is speaking an "old-fashioned"/archaic form of Korean to reflect the time period that the game is set in

Set around the turn of the century (late 1800s), mimicking the Belle Époque of France's industrial revolution, we can guess that the game's events take place during the late 1800s. Given Geppetto's status as "old geezer", we can guess that he's closer to 100 than not, so he would have been born around the early 1800s. I might not be completely accurate - basically, he's speaking as an elderly person might speak in current time to culturally reflect his age; other times I notice he's using some words that are now out of use.

From the game's initial trailer:

깨어나거라, 아들아. 이제 이 아비를 기쁘게 해다오. Wake up, son. Make this father happy/proud.

The word he uses for "father" is "Abi" (아비), which is an archaic word for "father". In current day, korean speakers would generally use "Abeoji" (아버지).

The -gura(거라)/-DaOh(다오) conjugation is also an additional syllable that has since fallen out of use, or is considered archaic, in current korean:

아들아, 네 심장을 다오. Son, give me your heart.

하지만 알아 다오, 나는 너도 사랑했단다. But know this, I loved you too. English VA version: In my own way, I grew to love you.

This is also apparent in Geppetto's final letter at the end:

우릴 방해할 자는 이제 없을 거란다. 너를 위한 크라트를 다시 만들어주마. (-juma, Supposedly, only a "superior" speaker can use -juma) 그때까지 호텔에 조심해서 머물러 다오. 너를 누구보다도 아끼는 아버지가.

He also uses the -Oh ending again. (although he does call himself "Abeoji" 아버지 here and not "abi" like the trailer. He uses "Abi" again in another instance when responding to a guesture)

It's a very cool detail to me. I think it's a bit missed opportunity that, as far as I know, the english version doesn't seem to reflect this! Although to be fair, I'm struggling to imagine how they would. 19th century english/french maybe isn't as different or isn't different in the same ways from "modern" english that 19th century Korean would be from "modern" Korean. [Well, my only education on this stuff is from watching episodes of Dae Jang Geum]. I haven't checked to see if any other character (like Antonia) speaks this way. [Pls message me if Geppetto also speaks like this in your or any other language version!!]

Lies of P, Blood, puns, and the P-Organ

The P-Organ, in Korean, is referred to as the P기관. 기관 (gi-gwan), however, doesn't necessarily correlate directly to the word "Organ": It's quite an interesting word to choose because it can refer to any system of moving parts, both organic or mechanical; and it can mean an organ, a machine, or even a governmental body or institute.

As you may have heard by now, the game's titular pun revolves around the fact that the english character for P sounds the word for "blood" in korean (피), making the title (P의 거짓 P-ie Geojit?) read like Lies of Blood, in a nutshell. The title Lies of Blood then fits into the becoming-real flesh-and-blood themes of the game, perhaps also suggests that the deception in Krat has cost the lives of many - and, of course, references the lying of the titular character, who is inferred to be none other than (P)inocchio! So, in Korean, the P-Organ (P기관) becomes something like the Blood Engine. Which rather sounds like a euphemism for a heart!

[Perhaps: It's also a bit of narrative that Geppetto refuses to refer to it as our heart, unless he refers to it as belonging to Carlo.]

In English, this wordplay no longer exists, and so it's rather awkwardly literally translated (as the P-Organ).

How do you say, "NEOWIZ"?

I've seen a few people ask about the pronunciation of NEOWIZ (Lies' publishing company). Hangul is phonetic, so you could (technically) say the official pronunciation of NEOWIZ (네오위즈) is Nae-Oh Wiz and not Neo (like the Matrix character) -wiz.

However [in my opinion], I don't think this matters, because when something is translated to another language, it often takes the pronunciation of the language it is read in. Kind of like how in english you would read the capital of France correctly as Paris (with an S sound at the end), and not "Pari" (french pronunciation).

Also, Krat is consistently pronounced by in-game characters as "Krot" (Long O, rhymes with "Cot" or "Not") in the english version. In the game korean releases, "Krat" is written as 크라트, which would be pronounced and read as "Krat" (short A, rhymes with "Rat" or "Cat").

[I think the devs also say "Krat" too. The rounder "O" pronunciation of "A" in words seem like more of a European pronunciation in general]

The "Youngest of the Black Rabbit Brotherhood" and Gender

In Korean culture, Age is particularly significant in both Korean social hierarchy and language, and the role/position of being the youngest in a group is a particular role known as being the "maknae" (I mean, I definitely think this also exists in the western world, people definitely would understand being the "youngest" one in your family, but it's slightly different from that).

Despite being a member of the brotherhood, she refers to her brothers as "Oppa", which is when the word "brother" is used by female speakers to an older male subject (Remember Gangnam style?) [A male speaker would use "Hyung". I debated putting this one in, because to me, it seemed kind of obvious, but I did see others asking about this.]

[Given that the developers are from a korean studio, I am choosing to believe that the subtitles provided by the game's "korean" version are the text/script as originally written intended by the developers!]

[kindlingkeen]

Hi! I absolutely adore your Asymmetrical Warfare series on AO3 (it’s got me back on a competent Jason Todd kick, which, there’s honestly too little of so if you have any recs pls fire away)!

I did have a curiosity that I hope you don’t mind answering though: are there specific reason why you’re not a Tim fan? And does that extend to other members of the batfam as well?

Hi, anon! I’m so glad you’re enjoying Asymmetrical Warfare (competent Jason ftw!). 🙌

Re: Tim. I should probably be more conscientious with my wording around Tim. A lot of what I say in ao3 comments or here tends toward facetious, and tone doesn’t really come across well online.

Which is not to say there aren’t things about Tim that bug me. For example—canon Tim, there are more than few instances of him being downright shitty to Jay’s memory. Case in point, from Batman #456, Tim imagines Jason’s ghost giving him a pep talk about becoming a hero and Jason says he killed himself because he didn’t listen to Batman.

Ah, no sir, the responsible party was the psychopathic clown with a crowbar and some explosives, not the 15 year old trying to save his newly discovered biological mother.

But is this really Tim the character’s fault? Or is it dc’s fault for creating a narrative that brutally murdered a child and then spent decades trashing his memory and blatantly victim-blaming him for it?

It’s really more fanon depictions of Tim that I have a problem with. In particular, the tendency to project Jason’s trauma onto Tim. Trying to spin the white boy who came from an affluent two-parent household as somehow more neglected than the kid whose parents are dead/incarcerated and was literally homeless is just ??? Jason’s backstory touches on so many important societal issues (the gutting of the social safety net, the industrial prison complex, the opioid epidemic, the criminalization of poverty, the stigmatization of sex work), and this approach sweeps all of that under the rug.

It also really gets my goat how many fics masquerade as being about Jason, but are actually just a vehicle for Tim time. These stories tend to dramatize Tim’s character, whether it’s woobie, touch-starved little Timmy who needs constant reassurance and protection, or smarter than everyone ever, can not be out thought or out fought, is actually a CEO while he should be in high school Tim. My problem with this type of narrative is usually two-fold. 1) It dumbs down Jason’s characterization (which should be so rich and complex) to ridiculously oversimplified motivations and actions. And 2) it turns Tim into a caricature of himself, instead of a compelling character with a balance of strengths and weaknesses and a normal amount of teenaged self-esteem.

It probably doesn’t sound like it from this blog post, but I do really try hard in life not to yuck other people’s yum. Just because I don’t care for how Tim is portrayed, it doesn’t make it inherently bad or wrong. And all of this aside, I’ve read plenty of fics where I enjoyed Tim just fine. For example, I love how @bonerot19 writes Tim in their Something in the Static series. And Tim and Jay’s dynamic in WFA is often amusing.

So, yeah, bottom line. Tim is … fine. I’m just not a fan, per se. I try to at least write him fairly in Asymmetrical Warfare, with both the realistic shortcoming of a teenage boy and the awesomeness of Robin. He’s never going to get the same amount of page time as the rest of the crew is, though.

Re: the rest of the batfam. I mean, I often want to bop Bruce on the nose. Especially canon Bruce who beats up his kids and is completely unrepentant about it. But, honestly, that’s not my Bruce. My Bruce, who I love and love to hate in turn, would never do that. (Compartmentalization, the key to happy fic reading and writing.)

I love Babs and Dick. I want to be besties with Steph, but in reality she’s way too cool for me. Duke and Cass I’m less familiar with, but have no problems with. Damian is growing on me, and if dc would just give up the game and admit that Dami and Jay met in the LoA and are actually super special murder brothers at heart, that would be great. Selina is a queen and someday I will write that Selina + Jay and Dami meet in the LoA fic I’ve been dreaming about.

Re: competent Jason fic recs. One of my favorites is butcherbird, fly away home by e_va @e-vasong. Bonus rec, the same author put out a new fic recently, another way to make it to ten, and it not only features competent Jason, it’s Jason & Tim, and I like Tim in it.

Thanks so much for the ask, anon! Really great questions. Kudos if you made it through the whole post. 💙

[velvetvexations]

But they still use the n-word, anon. They still use the n-word. Yet you think that years and years ago they were so worried about being "challenged" on grounds of transphobia ("transmisogyny" was not in widespread use at the time) that they felt the need to change their language? Even though they still, to this day, use the n-word.

You're an idiot.

And yes, actually, GNC boys who present in a feminine matter does affect things! You can't seriously pretend that every single depiction of an AMAB person wearing women's clothing could only ever possibly be a trans woman or based on trans women. That's not only ahistorical and erases real people right in front of you, but it also gets fucking racist as hell when you start imposing that view on other countries. Did you know, for instance, that "kathoey", the term "ladyboy" is a translation of, is generally used by people who self-identify as men? Because I'm guessing the answer is "no."

Femboys are and have always been a thing, stop fucking erasing them and appropriating their language just because you desperately want the world to revolve around you.

So many young trans girls are going to come out of this traumatized from the dooming, isolated and potentially trapped in abusive relationships because they'd been indoctrinated into the belief that only other trans women will ever love and support them.

The problem is that it has "fab" in there, so they can't do it like they're trying to do with femboy because it inherently points to "TMEs."

(2/2 ana mardoll) i really dont mind when trans women genuinely criticize specific terrible shit that a trans man has actually done, and mardoll has always been a fucking loser who does all the stereotypical negative shit that people tend to act like trans men do. i just wish people would not act like its standard behavior to be like that and judge us all on the basis of the worst of our community lmao. this is behavior that goes both ways tho, trans men judge trans women like this too. idk lol

The person I've seen most accused of being a ringleader was Neon Yang, who was definitely not that even though they contributed. The one I most remember was the trans woman who said something to the effect of "yeah well it didn't sound like the author was trans so I was completely justified actually" and that drives me up a wall because the transradfem girlies are going to lose their mind when I post the first chapter of Nursed with Kerosine.

I have to answer them mostly in batches, with a few exceptions, because I get so many.

@ratbastarddotfuck

Imagine if everyone just decided to start saying a PoC who votes Republican is white.

It's going to be difficult for them to ever actually make a callout post for me because they can screenshot my takes but there will never be a single piece of evidence that I've ever harassed anyone and they know it.

It's not just about taking it seriously, but it's extremely repellent just as content and can be severely triggering, which it would have been for me if I hadn't watched it when I was a teenager before The Deeplore Trauma settled into my bones. I don't think I can even get into the later stuff now because of the association.

But fuck me gently with a chainsaw, everything else about it should be immensely cool and it sucks it's not in something that isn't weighed down by that.

Explicitly using dysphoria as a plot point like that is interesting and does sound like good fuel for a transfem headcanon.

No, it isn't, the only thing being discussed is whether he fits the criteria for "TMA" or not, and he does.

Buffalo Bill is not a stereotype of trans women, and in fact I applaud and deeply appreciate the author for making that crystal clear and treating trans people with great respect and sympathy for the time in which it was written, but he became the model for a stereotype of trans women that transphobes have taken and ran with since the day the the movie came out.

[sunnebeam]

one more kiss.

DRABBLE.

pairing: kim seokjin x reader

warnings: smut (minors do not interact), unprotected sex (this is fiction, but please be more responsible irl), angst, cursed!reader, mentions of past deaths in which reader feels responsible for, open-ended (i'll leave it up to ur imaginations what happened next heh)

masterlist + disclaimers.

note: ok so this is just me turning most of my fic ideas into short drabbles just so i can check then off my wip list ^^ so without further ado, here's a drabble for our lovely jin! let me know what u think

Quiet nights often bring loud thoughts.

Take tonight, for instance. It's rather quiet and peaceful, fluffy clouds filtering the moonlight, no other sounds except for the beat of your heart and his. It's a tranquil night, and for an overthinker like Seokjin, it's a night of loud what-ifs.

What if he kisses you?

He'd love to. You've been together for a while now, yet he never once tasted your lips.

What if you kiss him?

You'd love to, too. But you love him more, and you won't ever let his lips find a home in yours.

You can't.

"Hey," he calls out to you as you're both snuggling blissfully in bed, your clothes and his in rumpled heaps on the floor, the light sheen of sweat covering your bodies a testament to the lewd acts you both just engaged in a few moments prior.

"Hmm," you hum in acknowledgment, your fingers tracing patterns on his skin near where your head lays on his bare chest.

"Do you love me?"

You're tracing your initials now.

"Do you love me?"

"I asked first."

You're tracing his name.

"I do," you finally whisper, and feeling vulnerable, you add, "more than I should."

He halts your fingers' movements and takes your hand in his.

"I do, too," he whispers, bringing your hand to his lips, mindful of your slight hesitation when you feel his plump lips on your skin. "Will you do something for me?"

"Anything."

And that's all the permission he needs.

Flipping you over, he lays you on your back and hovers above you — a position all too familiar in lovers' bedrooms, but not in yours.

"Wait," you say, frightened at the change, "Jin, we can't—"

You've never done this before. You've only ever fucked in positions where he's pounding into you from behind. You've never had sex facing each other before. And for good reason.

He kisses your nose, and you freeze in fright at the action, at the feeling of his lips just a few centimeters from your own.

"Trust me?" he pleads, looking straight into your eyes.

It's not that you don't trust him. It's just that you know he won't be able to resist.

After all, nobody was ever able to resist.

That's just how the curse worked – with your lips luring in their prey, and their victims unable to resist.

"I can't lose you," you tell him, eyes tearing up.

And like a moth to a flame, the moment their lips touch yours...

"You won't."

...they die.

It's why you never let Jin kiss you. It's why you never have sex in missionary. You can't take any chances. You can't.

Too many people have died in the past because of you, because you were careless, because you were reckless. Too many people have died because of your kiss, and you'd be damned if you let Jin be another one of them.

"I thought you understood." A tear slips down your cheek. "I want to, I swear. But it's too dangerous, Jin."

He catches the tear and wipes it away.

"I promise I'll be careful."

Now, Jin has always been honest with you. But tonight – with you in his arms like this, with your resolve starting to waver, and with your tiny nod finally giving him silent permission – he prioritizes your peace of mind over his and decides to lie to you.

He's lying to you as he cradles you in his arms and places kisses on your neck. He's lying to you as he moves his fingers to your wet heat and preps you for him. He's lying to you as he then pumps his cock and slowly slips inside you.

"F-Fuck," you moan at the stretch, hands clutching his shoulders in a death grip. The sensation the unfamiliar position brings is too much for you, and you find yourself nearing your climax in a way you never have before.

"You're so wet," he groans, thrusting into you in a slow, sensual pace, and feeling your pussy clench uncontrollably.

"I'm so close, Jin," you whimper, not even the least bit embarrassed that you'll finish so early.

"Let go, love. It's okay."

He wants you to let go. He needs you to let go of all your fears, your burdens, your inhibitions. Everything.

He wants you to give them all to him. He needs you to let him carry them, shoulder them, bury them. For you.

Because he's your soulmate. Your one true love.

"I'm cumming!" you cry out, reaching your high.

You're coming undone around his cock, your pussy milking him and coaxing him into his own orgasm. He follows just seconds after, spilling inside you and staying there until his dick eventually softens.

He pulls out slowly and looks at you.

Your eyes are closed and you have a small, content smile on your face at this new level of intimacy you just experienced with your lover. And it's that same, content smile that prompts him to do what he does next.

He kisses you.

He kisses you because he always wondered what it would be like to kiss you, always wondered what your lips would taste like on his tongue, always wondered what your lips would feel like pressed against his own.

He kisses you because he always wanted to kiss you, always wanted to feel close to you, always wanted to experience this kind of intimacy with you.

He kisses you because he always thought about what your life would be like if you weren't crippled by your curse.

What if there's a cure? What if there's something he could do? What if, somewhere, somehow, there's a way?

And so tonight, there would be no more what-ifs.

Because he read about curses like yours and there's a theory about how only one thing can fix it.

A true love's kiss.

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