#you have to face what i symbolise

[lena-oleanderson]

Incredulity OR Informed Consent from Side Wounds

(on talking to someone who is suicidal after losing someone to it)

[chocolilies]

( ୨ৎ. husband!nanami kento x wife!reader. . .ᐟ

◟ꪆ୧ nsfw (afab!reader, fingering, teaching a lesson through sex, ditzy reader) - also on ao3!

nanami kento, who wears his wedding ring everywhere.

he never takes it off, he doesn't dare to. why would he? 

it symbolises the promise you two made to each other, the love you have and continue to share— of course he wants to show it off to the whole world.

you’ll never find him without it, golden band always snug around his ring finger when he showers, when he cooks, when he cleans, when he works...

which is why he's so disappointed to find yours teetering on the edge of the bathroom sink.

steam sticks to the mirror, blurrily framing the disappointment on his face as he picks up your ring, turning his head to look at you, watching you ransack your shared wardrobe for clothes to wear tonight.

"darling, are you forgetting something?"

he watches you snap your head around, drops of water still dripping from your recently showered body, mouth forming an 'o' out of shock as you realise what he's holding.

"oh!" you rush towards him, outstretching your left hand once you reach him so he can slip the ring back onto where it belongs, smiling bashfully up at him. "sorry, it must've slipped my mind."

you don't miss the frown that deepens on kento’s face at your careless gesture, placing your hands on his cheeks and pulling him down for a sweet kiss, your way of apologising for the mistake. "don't be upset, ken. it won't happen again."

oh but it does, and even though kento knows deep down that these are simple mistakes, he can't stop the pit that forms in his stomach whenever he finds your ring abandoned at your work desk, or the kitchen counter, or even slipped forgetfully into your bag.

he tries his best not to let it irk him, instead resorting to reminding you each time he finds your ring somewhere other than on your finger, making sure to slip it back where it's meant to be with as much love and care as the day you first exchanged rings and vows.

his resolve crumbles the moment gojo opens up his stupid mouth.

“woah, trouble in paradise?”

kento’s shoulders stiffen at the light-hearted way your coworker comments on your lack of ring, standing at your doorway holding lunch for the both of you as he watches you laugh it off with a wave of your ring-less hand, explaining your forgetfulness and immediately starting to look for the tiny trinket.

“darling,” kento speaks slowly from the other side of the room, announcing his arrival at the same time he flashes you with the item you were looking for. 

you don't seem to notice his clenched teeth and narrowed gaze as you happily walk over to him, allowing him to slip your ring back on before placing a kiss to his cheek in thanks, the maximum amount of affection you dare to show in your workplace. 

it hadn't dawned on him until then that he wasn't the only one that would notice your missing ring, wondering nervously as he finished up that day’s work just how many of your friends had noticed, whether the girls you normally went out and drank with assumed that he was a terrible husband, that there was indeed some trouble in paradise, that you were stuck in a loveless marriage instead of the obvious: that you were just forgetful.

he tries not to show his upset later that night when he finally arrives home, but as the dutiful and perfect wife you are, you notice immediately. you ask him what's wrong, offer to cook him his favourite dish, hold him in bed like you usually do whenever he feels down, tell him you’re there for whatever he might need and want…

“but… what I need… is to remind you how important this is to me,”

you watch as he catches your left hand in his, bringing it up to his face and pressing a chaste kiss to the warm metal, amber eyes staring deep into yours during his action. 

you smile, moving said hand to cup the side of his face, running your thumb over his sharp cheekbones. “I know how important it is, ken…”

despite your sweet coo and love-filled gaze, kento knows, deep down, that you need a reminder. 

“of course you do, angel,” he sighs, leaning closer into your space as his eyes trace your unforgettable features, drinking in your lovestruck expression. “but I feel that lately, it’s been slipping your mind. don’t you think that, as your husband, it’s my duty to make sure you never forget?”

your husband's ring feels cold against your flushed skin, a sharp contrast to the warmth his fingers are radiating as they slip through your sopping folds, collecting your dripping essence like a prize as his chapped lips press sloppy kisses all over your neck.

you can't stop the noises that leave you at the teasing, fleeting touches, eyelids drooping closed in pleasure as his other hand plays around with your chest, nimble fingers grabbing and tugging at your nipples in tandem with his other hand’s movements, sending rushes of overstimulating pleasure throughout your tired body. 

you're unaware of how many times he’s made you cum so far, the towel he’d oh so graciously placed beneath you thoroughly soaked thanks to his continuing ministrations, yet all you can focus on is the strange but welcome feeling of his ring pressing against your most intimate parts, bumping against your clit with every movement from his nimble hand and sending jolts of pleasure through your spent self, though you assume that this was your husband’s desired effect all along. 

“you’re doing so, so good, angel,” his voice rasped against your ear, harmonising with the squishing sounds your poor cunt was making, every touch to your clit making your body lurch and quiver, the feeling overwhelming. “c’mon, one more, alright? or have you already learned your lesson?”

lesson? you think as you feel his ring finger slip into you along with his middle and index, cunt loose enough to accommodate all three and hopefully his cock after this “lesson”. 

“w- won't take it off again, ken, pr-promise,” you gasp out, arching your back against his chest and pressing your rump against his very hard erection, which he'd been neglecting in order to get you to this point. 

you feel his fingers curl, hitting your g-spot perfectly like they had times before, but he didn't relent like you'd expected him to. 

“k-ken?”

“that's not all.” 

you whine out in confusion, hips moving along with his fingers despite the need to give your body a break, chasing the high that your mind oh so wanted but body couldn't exactly reach. 

“b-but-”

“it's not just about wearing the ring, darling,” kento started to explain, showing off his amazing dexterity by continuing to play with your tits with one hand while still fingering your pussy with his left, pressing a sweet kiss against your tear stained cheek. “no, if it was about that, this would've been over way more quickly.” 

you can feel a different sort of pressure start to build up in the lower parts of your tummy as he paused, legs shaking from the disturbance and in warning of what was to come if kento keeps doing his thing, though by the looks of it, he was nowhere close to stopping. 

he stays silent, allowing you to realise that he was really waiting for you to answer, as if you were both immersed in a casual conversation and he hadn't just melted your brain with just his fingers, and you force yourself to speak despite the mind numbing pleasure. 

“wh- oh god! what's it a-about, ken…?” you mewl, hips raising each time he pumps his fingers inside, almost like you were trying to ride him since his cock was still tucked away inside his slacks, his palm rutting deliciously against your clit with every movement. 

you hear him stifle a groan as your hips start to move, torturing himself as well as you by not bothering to help himself, too focused on your pleasure to act on his own, pressing his lips to the spot under your ear in an attempt to muffle the whimpers that were threatening to escape him. 

“k-ken?” you half-questione, half-moan, letting your head fall back onto his shoulder and focusing your blurry gaze on your husband's flushed face, drinking in the gorgeous expression he was sporting. 

“darling,” he lets out breathlessly, brown eyes darting down to meet your own, hands still not relenting in their attack despite his pause in speech, trying to compose himself before speaking once more. “it's- fuck, I… I want you to remember why you wear it, honey. who put it on your finger, who you belong to...”

he shudderd as one of your moans rings out throughout the dark room, not helping him in the slightest as he tries his best to fight against the urge to flip you over and fuck you like the both of you deserved. 

“who I belong to,” the strokes of his fingers grow deeper and more attentive, attacking your g-spot relentlessly as you writhe in his arms, his loving yet possessive words sending tremors throughout your body. 

“oh, kento…”

he exhales shakily at the moan of his name, letting his head fall forwards to rest on your shoulder in an attempt to ground himself, sinking his teeth into your shoulder with a shudder. 

“you're not going to- fuck, let this go, a-are you?” you manage to whisper out cheekily, hips and body still moving subconsciously on his fingers. 

“not a chance, my love,” 

kento moves slightly, adjusting your body so you're pressed even more impossibly closer to him, ass still perched against his hardened cock, member twitching and spitting out pre against his dampening slacks with each movement from your almost drunk body, high of pleasure and doing whatever it can to reach that high kento had seemed to have promised before. 

“I'll make sure you never want to take this off again—” he starts, and you gasp out in horror as his fingers slide out of you, lifting his soaked hand up to your chest, giving you a few seconds to panic before quickly replacing it with his other hand, nipples softening at the sudden lack of stimulation. 

to accentuate his point, his left hand, the one where he proudly displays his ring, the one that's covered in your juices and almost pruny due to the amount of time spent playing with your wetness, finds your own, carefully intertwining your fingers together and showing off both of your rings. 

“—not because you're afraid of forgetting, no…” 

you shudder as his other hand resumes the work his other had been doing, immediately feeling that intense need of release come back, biting your lip to muffle your sounds in order to listen to your husband better, not wanting to interrupt him, especially when he was like this— disheveled, flushed, with tiny whines escaping his chapped lips with every press of your ass against his crotch. 

“but, because every time you look at it—”

you can feel it building up, your release at the tip of your fingers, but not exactly like all the other times before, so you know what's coming. 

it's not the first time kento's gotten you to this point. he's exceptionally proud of it, obviously. no one before him had ever gotten you to squirt before, and evidenced by the rings that were currently getting dirty in your juices, no one but him ever would. 

his fingers quicken their pace inside you, attacking your g-spot with force before suddenly moving up to give your clit the same treatment, pinching and rubbing the tiny bundle of nerves in an expert manner, knowing exactly what to do to get you to that oh so delicious release. 

you raise your hips in preparation for it, pressure building up in your most intimate parts as you moan and cry out your husband's name, his mind crumbling with every sound you make, trying to stay on track. 

his mouth opens in awe as you grab onto his hand tighter, vision going white as you finally reach your climax, voice getting caught in his throat at the beautiful sigh of you coming undone on his fingers, love-filled eyes drinking in every single inch of your trembling bare body, release-soaked fingers still rubbing at your cunt rapidly.

he chuckles as you try to move away from his touch once it becomes too much, apologising silently for the overstimulation with a kiss to your sweaty temple, before finally finishing his speech. 

“—you’ll think of this.”

[aly4khq]

A DRAGON'S LAIR! ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ⋆*

— sum: You were exploring Tarus city as a self mission, trying to find the dragon who was told to have lived in the city for many years to come. You thought that you would encounter barely anything, but you were ever so wrong.

— characters: dragon!sylus

— warnings: pining, he tops ur clothes, double penetrartion (he had too dicks), improper use of his tail, manhandling, biting, fuckin from behind. (if i have missed any, please inform me!)

— wc: 1,746

You've never been one to lerk into unknown territory or to find refuge in a random city that you learnt about in a history book — it's never been in your nature at all. But once you saw the posters, you knew that it was a place of worship and surprise.

Tarus city, a city where it's been claimed to have a dragon that laid in the depths of a special cave. The cave was highly risky for any normal human being, I mean, the image that laid on the posters was frightening enough to keep away tourists. The unusually greyish-red that scattered around the cave's entrance, moving around like a line circling a branch, a black thick coating around it which looked like claws when compared to each other, the singular hand on the top leading to the cave like it was inviting you.

You loved mythical creatures so this was a field day for you, you needed to go.

There was also a garden which yearly grew beautiful flowers there, crimson in colour and rose in shape. They scattered everywhere, and they seemed to have been planted by a very skilled gardener — if there even was one back in the early years of life. Oh how you'd love to distress by rolling in there after a long day, what a dream.

But you weren't just there for the cool looking dragon, you were there for the sword. Like that playground sword that you had to remove from the ground, and whoever could move it was the 'chosen one', there was one that laid outside the cave, imbedded in the beautiful scenery of flowers and healthy grass with its delicate pattern leaving you with mysteries.

"Where did it come from?" "What does it symbolise?" "How did it get there out of all places?"

Who owned it?

Well, let's just say that you weren't too scared to find out. You needed answers and if you had to dig into a random mythical cave then you will. Despite the lack of information, you searched up any little tips to help you navigate inside of a cave.

You needed to be prepared, and properly prepared.

After a while of constant climbing and exploring the beautiful long yards of greenery, you stood face to face with the cave that was feared the most back in Linkon City, aka the Dragon's Lair. In the papers, it looked like absolute horror capturing in a frame but in person, it was gorgeous.

The cave was expanded and opened for anyone to come into, and you'd did just that. Entering the cave, you turned on the flashlight you brought, seeing insta treasures of many different kinds of art scattered around the walls of the cave. "Wow...this is cool..." you softly murmured to yourself, still engrossed in the scenery—

...what the hell was that?

A deep and raged growl sped through the walls of the cave like air, filling your eyes with an intense sound. Hissing, the growl's sound waves led you to an expanded room, where a big bed-like item was in the front, surrounding by more jewels of ancient treasures. You found yourself searching around, looking for what this place could've belonged to.

And after 5 minutes, you dug in, "What's the worst that could happen?"

Searching the amazing rich items on the floor, your bag got heavier and heavier with time. Each jewel that caught your eye went in. Some of them even had ancient symbols on them, now that's a lot of money.

But, a singular gem caught your eye. It was a necklace that had a black substance scattered all over it, laying on the bed that was in the middle of the room. "Oh?" your hand went out, curious, "This is peculiar."

The necklace was a beautiful golden chain, wrapping with ancient knots and twists so it was bonded together perfectly. On both sides of the pendants scattered around the necklace, there were small, very intricate patterns dented into the metal. It had a pocture of a dragon on the front, and it...was weirdly shaped. Like the top half was crossed out, but forget that, you just found a good millions of money in your hands.

"Well, that's been a nice journey here cave, thanks for the new finds and...yeah. I'll be going."

You turned for the entrance where you came from, and it was blocked off by a large bolder. "Huh..? Why...who?"

You turned around to find a way to get out when a tail wrapped around your waist, pulling you down to your knees in a rapid manner. You scrapped your knee on the harsh carpet. "Ah! Hah...ow.." You tired to arise from your forced position when you heard a deep voice.

"Were you never taught of etiquette? Or was it just you who missed out?"

He boomed over you, a...handsome man. He was silver hair, crimson eyes and weird black claws and a tail. His clothes bleeding in with his skin.

This isn't the dragon. I mean, it's a literally human being?

"Etiquette? Who are you?" You replied back harshly, not thinking before you spoke. Remembering quickly, it was too late, his tail went around your body before whipping the skin behind you thighs. You yelped, cursing the man-dragon above you.

"You!—" "Me what?"

He arose from his throne, walkijg menacingly to grab your waist before pulling you up to your feet. He turned you around, your back against his toned chest. His hand went over your chin and upper neck, pushing your head back to his shoulder with a smirk.

"Maybe I should teach you," he bite your collarbone before growling, "how to respect a dragon's cave."

"Gahh—Ugggg, you're so deep!—"

"Focus."

That same dragon had you bent over the same drawer you had stolen from, your clothes ripped from his sharp claws just where you soaked pussy was.Your back arched like never before and his hand still around your chin, his teeth biting and sucking on your collarbone with delight. His hips were slow but deep, reaching your cervix with long strokes, his dick sending you into a wave of pleasure.

"What's the answer?"

He'd made you write down the rules of entering his cave again, the pencil shaking vigorously in your trembling hands. The paper soaking up your falling tears as you begged and pleaded with the man above you. "Hahh— Sylus— please...! Please! I might just—"

His tail traveled down your clit, gently caressing it with the peek of the tail. "Write it down, or I'll do even worse." He threatened, and you obeyed, grabbing the pencil and harshly writing down, "I will be respectfu—"

"Ah!!" His hip gave you a sharp thrust, a warning to behave and write properly. His hand groping your wee cheeks to the point that you could feel his claws digging into your flesh. "You have one more chance." With every word, he thrusted harder until you shrieked, your body bending more forward to escape his powerful hips, you pussy squeezes into the life out of him.

Your hands went back, trying to push his pelvis away from you. "Hm?" He hummed, his eyebrow rising before you hear a chuckle, "Want me to slow down sweetie?" His voice was playful, yet you nodded quickly anyway.

"Too bad." 



He sped up, his hips snapping so fast with your to the point where it echoed in the room. Your hands banged on the drawer, lookijg for a way to soothe to intense pleasure that you were being given. You couldn't even speak, your face fucked out and your body slowly weakening.

"S-Sy...luss...I can't...! Please..." You begged, trying to find a better way to convince him to give you a break. His dick the was so deep that you thought that it was two dicks at once. It felt so huge, and more struggle.

The stretch was too much, you yelled, "Sylus! Why is it—" You gasped loudly, relent that he had two massive ducks in you at the moment, both of them lodged deep in your pussy. In that moment, you nearly passed out. "Ahh ah hah...hahh!!" You cried out, tensing, "Pleaseee..."

"You're fine, just one more." Sylus cheered on, his tail moving up to caress your back, travelling down the straight line. His tail met your ass, gently put slowly digging it into your other hole, "No! No no, please, i can't, please," Your whole body was shaking, your sweat coating your skin.

"Mhm, fine, for now." Sylus replied in a teasing tone before continuing to roll his hips into yours, and by that tight squeeze he knew that you were close. You stood a little, crying, "I can feel it!— I need to pee—Why does it feel like I need to pee?!—"

He reassured you, speaking in your ear, "It's normal, you're fine, just relax." You wasn't breathing at all. He grabbed your chin again before ordering you, "Cum."

Your orgasm hit you, your lungs not being able to take in oxygen due to the sheer force of your release. The intense feeling was still shocking you, your hands braking some of the wood of the drawer due to your grip. Your legs shaking like no ever before you felt his claws tap your chest, "Hey, Breathe."

You took a deep breath in before covering your mouth, instantly being met with fatigue. "I need a rest...I can't feel myself..." Sylus chuckled at your position, his hand goijg around your waist to carry you to his bed. "It's okay, you took both off my dicks, well done."

"I knew you'd come along," Sylus hummed, "so just relax my Queen, I'll take care of you.

this is not proofread! i was too eager to post so sorry hotties!

@ aly4khq, do not plagiarise, translate or copy my work. (30/11/24)

[floatyflowers]

May I please request a dark Eros/Cupid X human girlfriend reader though they are already in a relationship he thinks things are moving too slow so he kidnaps her and forces her to be his wife and every time she questions him he uses his arrows on her so she’ll be do as he says without question💘

You don't understand how things escalated so quickly.

One moment you were sleeping beside your boyfriend in your shared apartment and the next you found yourself in a temple on Olympus facing the deity of carnal love, Eros.

He revealed himself to be your boyfriend.

And shot you with golden tipped arrow for you to be under his control and agree to what he wants.

Like marrying him and having his babies for example.

"You will always feel safe by my side, sweet wife"

"How about we have five...even though that's not a lot of children, but still they are enough to symbolise our love"

Of course, there are times where the love would wear off and you would be left with confusion and fear.

And when you realise what is going on, you would break into tears and try to escape.

But you never get to escape from Eros as he is always there with his bow and arrows.

He will do whatever it takes to keep you by his side, not caring if it's considered morally wrong.

[yingdu-lover]

this scene will have a special place in my heart REGARDLESS of what is about to unfold, even after the end of Link Click

Lu Guang's genuine happy smile slowly breaks as he looks at silly Cheng Xiaoshi.

it's not just a small smile we usually see

it's a smile that takes over the looming gloominess we have seen for the entire 3 seasons

this smile is DIFFERENT. The pleasant warm forest background along with the young green leaves falling on them, it is one of the most beautiful framings of shiguang I have ever seen. If the leaves were yellow/orange, it would have made me cry like a howling hyena because that signifies 'the autumn of life', death is not far away. But it's green and young! it symbolises young and pure love. The warmth of the forest really holds them like a blanket. This scene is vibrant with youthfulness and lively spirit, and the focus of the scene is THEM.

You know what is interesting, why is Yingdu so special? We had multiple opportunities in S1 and S2 to see Shiguang framed like this but they deliberately avoided it. for example take this scene,

the focus is on their hands, which is of course very symbolic and it just looks like Cheng Xiaoshi just asked,

"Would you like to be my life partner?"

- "yes"

but they didn't show their faces.

But I am not here just to talk about Shiguang. It's him

there is something in his expressions that pleasantly sends shivers to my heart.

He is genuinely happy to cross paths with them, probably in another life, he would not meet them as a spy. In another timeline, he would have enough agency upon his life to choose to befriend them of his own volition. Link Click is so agonisingly beautiful to portray the often ignored yet deep yearning of the human mind, the yearning to meet people who make you believe in 'found family', even if it's for a fleeting moment, you are grateful to be able to form human bondings, with people who feel to be 'your people'. You know when Beckett said that the fundamental condition of human existence is being enveloped by loneliness and that's why they are constantly in search of the 'others'...he was painfully truthful.

Whatever transpires (even if it's Xia Fei who actually kills Cheng Xiaoshi and wants to kill Lu Guang) this scene will not lose its value. On the contrary, the emotions will be more profound. In a world where destiny had not designed such a heinous survival game, we will be alive and happy together.

Another thing (apart from their friendship) he realises is that...how Cheng Xiaoshi and Lu Guang are so deeply in love. (Listen, Ik the dialogues may add a whole different meaning altogether but I wanna write it cuz it makes me happy hmph!) He recognises it, and kind of wishes something of that in his own life too. I would not be surprised if he actually views shiguang as the model lovers he kind of pines for in his own life too ( probably with Vein-)

whatever, this scene is PRICELESS!

edit : this.

[aliteralsemicolon]

Spencer unintentionally expresses his love through acts that seem so insignificant on his part but they mean the world to you.

Buying flowers he almost walked past on his way home from work, but they reminded him of you. You honestly didn't expect them. You've never believed yourself to be someone people would go out of their way for. But when he explains what they symbolise and why they reminded him of you, it takes everything in you to fight back tears.

You want them to be the first thing you see when you wake up and the last thing you see when you go to sleep, after Spencer; who's surprised to see them taking over most of the surface area on your bedside table when he comes out of the shower. How they're being held in your favourite pitcher catches his eye. The one you found at a farmers market and refuse to let anybody use it unless it's for a special occasion.

"Tomorrow," you turn your attention to your boyfriend at the sound of his voice and watch as he climbs into the bed next to you, "we'll get you a proper vase."

He lands a gentle kiss on your shoulder before laying his head down on the pillow and meeting your eyes. They haven't left his face since landing on it. Your heart feels so overwhelmingly full and you don't have a large enough vocabulary to express that feeling. Seeing your focused gaze and reserved smile, Spencer begins to ask if you're okay.

A verbal response isn't enough. How can you explain that his tiny drop of affection has caused such a large rippling effect into the lake made up of your love for him? Adoration engulfs all sense and the only reasonable way to channel it is with a kiss on the height of his cheek.

Then another as your hands cup his jaw.

And another.

And then one on the tip of his nose.

Again, on the bridge.

Then his eye.

Forehead.

A smile creeps on his face and fizzles into a bashful chuckle as you basically attack his face with kisses. It's as if your emotions spill from your heart into his, taking him over with the same warmth and overwhelming longing. He cups the back of your elbows and his fingertips graze over the back of your arms as he envelopes you into a hug, launching his own attacks of pecks on any part of your skin that he can.

The room fills will the sound of giggles, shuffling and kisses. Small whispers of "You're so pretty", and promises of "I love you", "forever" and "always". You hold each other tight throughout it all. Your eyes drift to the flowers standing in their temporary home and make a mental note to learn how to care for them properly. You want to dedicate the same amount of care to them as Spencer does for you.

You've never had a favourite flower before. Now you do. Not because of their official symbolism, but because of what they symbolise for you. So this is how it feels to be loved.

this blurb is me long story shorting a fic I abandoned for my birthday a couple months ago but sometimes I still think about this and AHHHHH

[localechoes]

paige val and faulkner as the death tarot card! click on each individual one for better quality. speedpaint notes etc under the cut

first off you need to look at the water in the background of faulkner's one

chose the death crad bc death card is abt transformation and big changes and yk. death, which really works with these, the changing for your god trio. every god's a god of death etc

paige has hands and plants growing at her feet bc she has achieved the whole better things will grow thing, but through bloodshed

paige and val are night and day for narrative foil purposes. also their respective light sources are on opposite sides

val is holding a white bloodstained flag to symbolise her attempt at making the cls into something better. the white flag is a declaration of peace and the blood represents everyone shes killed along the way.

the words making up the bridle of the horse show how val uses words as a means of control

faulkner is upside down bc upside down tarot cards mean the opposite of what the upright meaning is, hence signaling his inability and averseness to change

the withermark parallels the curve of the scythe hes holding to show its a weapon of destruction

faulkner is also semi transparent to show his lack of personhood and vessel for your god stuff

val has blood on her hands bc shes actively killed people. paige has blood on her scythe bc though she has not directly killed anyone her god sure has. faulkner is bloodless bc he cant face up to the people hes killed

they all have halos somewhat distorting their faces to show how religion has distorted their identity

yea i think thats it. pointing emoji watch my speedpaint

[capquinn]

can we get a blurb about quinn telling his parents he’s gonna be a dad, pretty pretty please???? i feel like he’d be nervous to tell them but also bursting at the seams wanting them to know. it’s probably hard for him being so far away for most of the year, that he wants them to be involved as much as they can, but he’d also want to respect his partner’s wishes if she wanted to wait to tell people until she was further along in case something happened

The decision about when to tell Quinn’s family about the baby over Thanksgiving weekend had been made weeks ago, but actually doing it was proving to be a whole different story.

For Quinn, the excitement of telling them had been almost overwhelming at first, a buzz of energy thrumming beneath his skin every time he thought about the moment. He could picture their reactions so clearly: Ellen’s face lighting up with joy and then tears, Jim’s steady pride breaking into a wide grin. He’d played it over in his mind again and again, letting the thought carry him through the quiet moments of doubt.

But now, as the reality of actually saying the words settled in, the nerves crept in too. It wasn’t that he doubted their reaction — they would be thrilled, he knew that. They adored him, a love larger than life itself, their pride woven into every word they spoke about him. A love so steadfast it felt unshakable. And over the years, that same love had effortlessly extended to you, not just welcoming you into their family but embracing you as if you’d always been a part of it.

However, the weight of the moment, of what it symbolised, suddenly felt heavier. This wasn’t just a fleeting piece of good news to share. It was life-changing, not just for him and you, but for them as well. They were about to become grandparents, stepping into a new chapter of their lives, and he couldn’t shake the pressure of wanting the moment to be perfect.

The confidence he’d carried on the flight home for the weekend was slipping, giving way to a swirl of emotions he couldn’t quite name. He’d been eager, almost impatient, to share the news, to feel the weight of it lifted and replaced with their joy, their pride, their unwavering support. He wanted them to share in the excitement, to feel connected to this life-changing moment despite the physical miles that often separate them. He needed them to know that their place in this new chapter, as grandparents, was as important to him as the one he was stepping into.

But now, standing on the brink of saying it aloud, a sudden wave of nerves hit him, sharp and unexpected. The enormity of it all — the love, the hope, the vulnerability wrapped in the words — made his throat tighten.

It wasn’t just an announcement. It was a shift, one that would ripple out and reshape everything. Parenthood, after all, was still something the two of you were learning to grasp.

The first evening back home unfolded in the warm glow of Ellen’s kitchen, the scent of roast chicken and fresh-baked bread filling the air. The house alive with warmth — the crackle of the fireplace, the low hum of laughter, and the familiar cadence of Jim’s voice as he spun a tale about the neighbour’s runaway tractor. He gestured animatedly, earning chuckles and interjections from Ellen, who corrected him at every exaggerated turn. It’s a familiar, comforting scene — the kind of moment Quinn usually soaks in without a second thought.

But tonight, his mind is a thousand miles away.

You can feel the tension humming beneath his relaxed posture, the subtle way his fingers tighten around yours every few minutes, like he’s trying to ground himself. His gaze keeps darting to his parents — catching the glint of Ellen’s wedding band as she leans forward in her chair, the crinkle of Jim’s eyes as he laughs at his own joke.

He wants to tell them. You can see it in the way his lips press together, his chest rising and falling with a slow, deliberate breath as though he’s rehearsing the words in his head.

We’re having a baby.

It’s right there, sitting on the tip of his tongue, waiting for the perfect moment. 

Quinn shifts in his seat, his free hand sliding up to rub the back of his neck as he leans forward slightly. You can feel the faint tremor in his grip as he laces his fingers tighter with yours, like he’s steadying himself for something big.

Jim’s voice carries on in the background, the rich cadence of his story weaving effortlessly with Ellen’s laughter, but Quinn’s focus isn’t there anymore. His gaze is fixed on the table, the firelight catching in his eyes as he takes a deep, deliberate breath.

You recognise the signs immediately. The way his shoulders draw back just slightly, the faint movement of his lips like he’s practicing the words in his head. It’s coming — you can feel it in the subtle shift of his energy, the way his knee bounces once under the table before he stills it with a hand.

He glances at you, and in the flicker of his gaze, you see everything — the love, the nerves, the overwhelming weight of what he wants to say. 

Your expression softens, and you give his hand a gentle squeeze, a quiet I’m here. You’ve got this.

Quinn swallows, his throat working against the knot of emotion rising there. 

“So, uh,” he starts, his voice low and hesitant, barely cutting through the warmth of the room.

Ellen turns toward him, her smile easy and expectant, and Jim sets his drink down, his brows lifting in quiet curiosity.

It’s right there. The words are sitting at the edge of his lips, just waiting to fall out. We’re having a baby.

But they don’t.

Quinn falters, his mouth opening slightly before he closes it again, his jaw tightening as he drops his gaze to his lap. His hand squeezes yours, and the quiet pressure feels like an apology.

Ellen’s eyes flit between the two of you, a flicker of concern crossing her face. 

“What is it, sweetheart?” she asks gently, her voice laced with the kind of maternal intuition that always catches him off guard.

He looks up at her, his lips curving into a faint, practiced smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“Nothing,” he says softly, shaking his head. “Just... it’s good to be home. That’s all.”

You watch as Ellen’s concern melts into warmth, her smile returning as she reaches over to squeeze his arm affectionately. 

“Well, we’re glad you’re here, too,” she says simply, her love for him evident in every word.

Quinn nods, his gaze falling back to his lap, and you can see the frustration flickering just beneath the surface. He’s upset with himself — not because he doesn’t want to tell them, but because he does. Desperately. He just… can’t.

You lean into him slightly, your shoulder brushing his, and when he looks at you, you offer the smallest smile. He exhales slowly, his grip on your hand relaxing just a bit, and when Jim launches into another story, the tension eases from Quinn’s shoulders — if only for a moment.

The second opportunity comes the next morning, when the day feels impossibly slow and golden, like it’s giving Quinn every chance in the world to speak up. The two of you lie in bed longer than usual, the soft morning light filtering through the curtains as you talk quietly, voices still hushed with sleep.

“We can’t leave without telling them,” Quinn says suddenly, his voice quiet but resolute, like the realisation is finally settling in. His gaze is fixed somewhere on the ceiling, his brow furrowed in thought, the weight of his words pulling his shoulders just a little tighter. “I just… I want to do it right, you know?”

“I get it,” you reply, turning your head to look at him. His profile is soft in the morning light, his jaw flexing slightly as he wrestles with the thought. “You want it to feel special.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, his lips twitching into a faint, almost sheepish smile. “Exactly. And every time I think about actually saying it, I freeze. Like, what if I screw it up and it’s not as perfect as I want it to be?”

You can’t help the way your heart squeezes a little at the vulnerability in his voice, the honesty of it catching you off guard in the best way. Sliding a little closer, you prop yourself up on one elbow, your hand brushing lightly against his arm. The movement pulls his attention, and for a moment, his eyes flicker to yours before settling back on the ceiling.

“Quinn,” you say softly, your voice laced with affection, “they’re going to love it. It doesn’t have to be perfect. It just has to be you.”

He doesn’t respond right away, the words settling over him like a quiet balm. His jaw flexes again as he chews on your reassurance, his hand absently dropping to your abdomen. It’s such a natural gesture, like he doesn’t even realise he’s done it, his palm curving gently over the barely-there swell. 

The corners of his lips twitch, like he’s debating whether to believe you. Then he lets out a soft laugh, low and self-deprecating, his free hand coming up to rake through his already-messy hair.

“You make it sound so easy.”

“Because it is easy,” you insist, squeezing his arm lightly, your gaze steady on him. “It’s you, Quinn. They’re going to be over the moon no matter how or when you tell them.”

His eyes flick to yours then, something unspoken passing between you — a quiet thank you, maybe, or just an acknowledgment that he’s holding onto your words a little tighter than he lets on. His thumb brushes a slow, thoughtful circle against your skin, and you can feel the tension in his shoulders ease, if only just a little.

“Don’t worry, you’ll tell them today,” you murmur. There’s a quiet encouragement in your voice, a steady belief that seems to seep right into him. Your fingers trace lazy circles over the back of his hand where it rests on your belly.

Quinn nods, his lips twitching into a small, tentative smile. It’s not the full-blown confidence he probably wishes he had, but it’s something — a flicker of determination breaking through the haze of nerves.

“Yeah,” he says softly, the single word carrying more resolve than hesitation. “I will.”

He sounds ready. You believe him. So does he.

And so the morning unfolds beautifully. Ellen, with her usual warmth and efficiency, packs coffee and snacks into a little canvas bag, insisting with a bright smile that everyone take advantage of the clear weather to walk the trails. There’s a lightness to her tone, a sense of simple joy that seems to catch on everyone as they prepare to head out.

Out in the forest, the world feels peaceful, quiet but alive. The rustle of leaves underfoot mingles with the occasional chirp of a bird or the soft swish of wind through the trees. The trail is dappled with sunlight, patches of golden light breaking through the canopy above. Quinn walks beside you, his shoulder bumping yours every now and then as the two of you amble along.

He’s quiet at first, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, but there’s a softness to him that doesn’t feel like nervousness — it feels like he’s soaking it all in. The crisp air, the sound of his parents chatting a few paces ahead, the steady rhythm of your steps beside him.

“You good?” you ask softly, nudging him with your elbow. Your breath fogs slightly in the cool air, and he glances over at you, his lips quirking into a small smile.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice low but steady. And for a while, it feels like he means it.

At the overlook at the end of the trail that feels perfect, too. The sunlight glints off the trees, the breeze is cool and gentle, and his parents are close, their laughter light as Ellen unpacks the thermos of coffee. You can feel the moment hanging there, just waiting for Quinn to take it.

He squeezes your hand gently, his thumb brushing slow circles over your knuckles. You glance up at him, catching the way his jaw tightens just slightly, his lips pressing together like he’s rehearsing the words in his head.

“Now’s a good time,” you say softly, tilting your head toward him. Your voice is quiet, meant just for him, but there’s an encouragement in it that you hope will nudge him past whatever’s holding him back.

Quinn nods, his shoulders straightening a little as he draws in a breath. 

His gaze flicks over to his parents, who are standing a few feet away, cups of steaming coffee in their hands as they admire the view. They’re relaxed, happy. Completely unsuspecting.

For a moment, it feels like he’s going to do it. He takes a step forward, clearing his throat softly, and both Ellen and Jim glance over at him. 

“What is it, Quinn?” Ellen asks, her voice warm, a smile playing on her lips.

You watch as Quinn’s hand flexes at his side, his fingers twitching like he’s trying to grab hold of the words before they slip away. 

“I—” he starts, but then his gaze falters, dropping to the ground for a fraction of a second. He hesitates, just long enough for the nerves to creep in.

Jim’s brow lifts slightly, his smile curious. “Everything okay?”

Quinn freezes, his jaw working as if he’s wrestling with the weight of the moment. You see the exact second he decides against it — the subtle shift in his stance, the way his eyes dart back to the view like he’s searching for an escape.

“Yeah,” he says finally, his voice low but steady. “Yeah, everything’s good.”

There’s a beat of quiet, and then Ellen laughs lightly, her attention shifting back to her cup. 

“Good,” she says, clearly not noticing the undercurrent of tension. “Come have some coffee before it gets cold.”

Jim watches Quinn for a second longer, his gaze thoughtful, but he doesn’t press. He just claps a hand on Quinn’s shoulder as he passes, squeezing lightly. 

Quinn exhales slowly, his shoulders sagging just slightly as he turns back to you. His lips twitch into a faint, sheepish smile, and he shrugs like he’s trying to laugh it off. But you know him too well to buy it.

You don’t say anything, just lean into his side a little, the warmth of him grounding in a way words wouldn’t be.

“Just… not yet,” he murmurs, his voice low, almost like he���s saying it to himself more than to you.

You nod, giving his hand another squeeze, a quiet reassurance passing between you. 

“It’s okay,” you murmur, your voice just as soft. “You’ll know when the time’s right.”

He breathes out slowly, his gaze flickering back to the view for a moment before settling on his parents again. And even though the moment passes, and the group begins to move again, their laughter breaking through the quiet hum of the forest, you can feel it. The way his hand tightens slightly around yours. The way his shoulders stay just a little too tense as you walk.

He’s still building up to it, you know that. But he’s getting closer.

Back at the house, the moment arises again, this time while everyone is lounging in the living room after lunch. Quinn sits beside you on the couch, one hand cradling his coffee mug, the other resting on your thigh. His parents are across from you, their chairs pulled close to the fire, and the warmth of the room feels almost tangible, a gentle weight of familiarity and love.

He’s relaxed now, leaning back into the cushions, his gaze sweeping over the room like he’s soaking it all in. His hand tightens slightly on your leg, and you glance at him, catching the way his eyes flicker with something you recognise — nerves, anticipation, resolve.

Ellen catches his eye and smiles, tilting her head slightly. “What’s on your mind, Quinn? You’ve been out of sorts today.”

Your heart skips, and you sit up just slightly, willing him forward with the quiet encouragement in your expression. 

This is it. He’s going to say it. You can feel it.

He clears his throat, straightening a little. “Just... uh,” he starts, his voice steady but hesitant. He glances at you, then back at his mom, and his lips twitch into a small, uncertain smile. “Just thinking how I’m gonna miss this when we leave,” he finishes, his tone light but not entirely convincing.

Your shoulders relax, a mix of understanding and disappointment flooding you as you press your knee gently against his. Quinn glances at you, his jaw tightening as he picks up on your unspoken it’s okay. Next time.

Ellen smiles warmly, tilting her head in that soft, motherly way. “It’s not long until Christmas,” she reminds him, though her voice carries a faint wistfulness, like she’s reminding herself too.

Quinn nods. “Yeah,” he says softly. “Not long.”

The following morning unfolds in the quiet, unhurried way that comes after a weekend of family time, everyone savouring these last hours together. The kitchen is warm and familiar, filled with the smell of coffee and the soft sounds of Ellen moving around, flipping pancakes on the griddle. Jim leans against the counter by the sink, drying dishes, while you’re perched on a stool at the island, hands wrapped around a steaming mug of tea. Quinn stands a little apart, leaned back against the counter with a piece of toast in hand, his damp hair sticking up in every direction, evidence of a quick shower.

The conversation drifts easily — something about Jim’s plans for the yard that afternoon, Ellen’s pancake technique, a joke about Luke’s questionable cooking skills. But Quinn is quiet, and not in the usual, thoughtful way. His eyes flick between his parents, to you, and back again, a pattern he’s been repeating all weekend. You know he’s been carrying the weight of the news, the excitement and nerves tangling together, keeping him from saying it despite countless opportunities.

And then, just like that, it happens.

“We have something to tell you,” he says, his voice steady but quiet enough that it cuts through the easy flow of conversation. 

The kitchen stills, all eyes turning toward him. Ellen pauses mid-flip, the spatula poised over the griddle, while Jim straightens from his spot near the sink, his brow furrowing slightly.

“What is it?” Ellen asks, her voice soft but expectant, her gaze darting between you both.

Quinn shifts slightly, his toast forgotten on the counter behind him. His hand brushes over the back of his neck, and for a moment, you wonder if he’s going to back out again, if the nerves will win one last time. 

But then he glances at you, his expression searching, and you nod gently, giving him the encouragement he’s been looking for.

“We’re having a baby,” he says, the words tumbling out in a rush but steady, sure. His voice catches just slightly at the end, but his eyes stay locked on his parents, watching as the meaning sinks in.

For a moment, the room is silent. Ellen stares at him, her eyes wide and unblinking, her hand coming up to her mouth. Jim’s towel stills mid-fold in his hands, his gaze flicking to you as if for confirmation. And then Ellen gasps — a sound so full of joy and disbelief it feels like it fills the entire room.

“Oh my God,” Ellen whispers, her voice trembling as her hand covers her mouth. Her eyes dart between Quinn and you, wide and shimmering with emotion. “A baby? You’re having a baby?” She looks at you then, as if she needs your confirmation to believe it’s true.

Quinn nods, and the soft, tentative smile that had been tugging at his lips finally breaks free. It spreads wide, unstoppable, lighting up his entire face. 

“Yeah,” he says, his voice low and steady but filled with something raw and achingly real. “We’re having a baby.”

His words hang in the air, and for a moment, the world feels suspended, as if the house itself is holding its breath. Then Ellen moves, her emotions bursting forth as she crosses the kitchen in a blur, her arms outstretched. She pulls Quinn into a fierce hug, her laugh bubbling up through a flood of tears.

“Oh, Quinn,” she says, her voice breaking with joy. “A baby. My baby’s having a baby.” Her hands cradle his face for a moment before she hugs him again, tighter this time, as if she can pour every ounce of love she feels into him.

He laughs softly, wrapping his arms around her as his chin rests against the top of her head. “Thanks, Mom,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion.

When Ellen pulls back, her focus shifts immediately to you. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” she says, rounding the island with tears streaming down her face. “A baby. Oh, I’m so happy for you.” She pulls you into a tight hug, her warmth and joy washing over you in waves. “You’re going to be incredible parents. Both of you.”

Jim moves forward more slowly, his hand landing firmly on Quinn’s shoulder as a wide smile spreads across his face. 

“This is incredible news, son,” he says, his voice steady but with an unmistakable quiver of emotion. “Congratulations. To both of you.”

Quinn exhales then, properly exhales, like the weight of all his nerves and hesitations has finally lifted. 

For the rest of the morning, the kitchen hums with joy. Ellen flits between the stove and you, her emotions spilling over every time she catches Quinn’s eye. She can’t seem to stop smiling, crying, or imagining the tiny new addition to the family. 

“How have you been feeling?” she asks, her eyes searching yours with a mother’s concern. “If you need anything, you’ll let me know, right?”

Her hand briefly brushes over your arm, the gesture warm and reassuring, and you nod, assuring her that you’ve been well, that Quinn has been attentive, that everything is as it should be. It’s impossible not to smile at the way her joy bubbles over, filling every corner of the kitchen like sunlight.

Quinn, for his part, has shed every trace of hesitation. He talks easily now, the nerves replaced by an earnest kind of excitement. He shares the small details — the due date, how you found out, how ready the two of you feel — and every word seems to deepen the pride in Jim’s expression. He stands quietly nearby, his presence grounding and constant, his smile unwavering.

When it’s finally time to leave, the hugs linger. Ellen pulls Quinn close, whispering something through her tears before letting him go to hold you just as tightly. Jim’s hand finds Quinn’s shoulder again, squeezing it once in a way that says everything without words. There’s an unspoken promise in their goodbyes, a warmth that stays even as the front door closes behind you.

Quinn doesn’t say much as he helps you into the car, his hand brushing over your back as he opens the door. But as he settles into the driver’s seat, he glances back at the house one last time, his expression soft, a little dazed. When he turns to you, his smile is quiet, content, the kind that makes your heart ache in the best way. 

As you drive away, the crisp Michigan air shifting through the windows, his hand finds yours. His thumb brushes over your knuckles in that familiar, absent minded way, and you realise that for the first time all weekend, there’s nothing holding him back. The weight is gone, replaced by something steadier — joy, contentment, and the simple knowledge that everything is exactly as it should be.

[drownedthemall]

sweetness of her laughter

part 2 - misjudged

next part

caracalla x noble!reader x geta 

2.1k words

a/n - i didn’t expect anyone to even read this fic !! especially part one, that part really is not that good :)

summary - you’ve been escorted to rome on behalf of the emperors. you stand before them, what will they decide to do with you now?

There was a change in the atmosphere, you could feel it. This led you to believe that you were now in Rome. Not only did it feel like the temperature rose to an unsettling degree, but the sheer amount of people surrounding every street was unimaginable. People were stood staring, some were almost clawing their way through to see who was the person General Acacius was accompanying. Not just accompanying, but personally escorting to see the Emperors. You weren't very talkative with the General throughout your travels together. But now, you couldn't help but ask questions as you were nearing the residence of the Emperors.

"General?" you ask, which came out way quieter than you had imagined, but fortunatley he heard you.

"Yes, Princess?"

"Are you aware of how many other nobles will be part of this whole fiasco..?", you fumble with your hands as you speak. You try to ignore his stare and redirect yours to the outside. You noticed carriages further away, of what seemed to have once been free people, were now slaves, getting carted away. The carriage tilts enough for the sun to dust your face, blinding you momentarily. "You are the first they've decided to personally invite.", his sombre voice declares.

You begin to feel nauseous at the statement. "What?" is all you can muster. He laughs at your reaction, finding amusement in your whirling storm of emotions.

"They have been sending out letters to a select few nobles that they deemed 'worthy', and they all eagerly accepted, except..." he nods to you.

"So, just because of that, I'm the first on the menu?" you huff, you had changed into your royal garments by now, but they were still too warm for such a climate. "Even then it wasn't my doing." you mull over your thoughts.

"All I can say is, good luck, Princess," he says with sincerity, hand over his chest. Symbolising his heart.

You shake your head, you can basically feel the aura of the Emperors oozing and you're not even there yet. You were unnerved that the Emperors even knew of your existence, the fact they chose you over your sister, who despite her attitude, was more than prepared to rule. You, however, were not, you knew of your sister's claim to the crown, which you had no issue with. You did what you were interested in and never bothered to even think of leading a Kingdom, and sure as hell, not the Roman Empire. You enjoyed having close to no responsibilities. You sigh, this invitation doesn't even guarantee you'll be Empress, this will only be a play to humiliate you for your own father's misstep. You've heard many stories of the Emperors. Everyone has.

The carriage comes to a halt. You look at the General, your eyes probably resembling that of a kicked puppy. He chuckles and pats your shoulder, "Come on, kid." He steps out of the carriage, holding out his hand for you to take. You see the stark difference between your own and his. His definitely belonged to that of a general, they were worn, rough, and showed years of commitment to his work. Despite you also having skills in weaponry, yours didn't compare one bit. You felt respect for him and his dedication.

You oblige and accept his hand, stepping out and feeling the sun above and its effects already. He holds onto your hand for longer than you deem necessary but appreciate it nonetheless. He and some praetorians guide you into where the Emperors reside. As you step foot inside, you feel relief from the cool marble beneath you and around you. You felt as if you could finally breathe again. That semblance of peace doesn't last long as you reach the room where they are known for throwing all sorts of celebrations

Your breath hitches. It seems it was just them two. The one who you assumed to be Caracalla was sprawled out and shamelessly enjoying the company of his concubines. Their hands reached and groped at his pale skin and silk. He was lavished in gold, from earrings to rings, to cuffs and all sorts of gold embellishments throughout his toga. The gold stood out against his complexion. Then there was Geta, he was also adorned in riches, but he on the other hand was mostly glamoured with silver and cooler tones of silk. However, their concubines weren't as bare either. Some of them, the favoured ones you presume, were also glistening in jewels. It was a sight to see. A sore one, but a sight. The both of them really did have an aura around them, no wonder people call them gods.

Geta seemed lost in thought as he swirled the deep red wine in his cup, staring off into the distance. They must be waiting for someone. Small giggles and sweet nothings can be heard from Caracalla's entourage, with him indulging in their soft-spoken words.

They hadn't yet registered the presence of you two, as neither you nor the general wanted to step to the centre of the room. However, Caracalla perked up as he noticed a glimmer of Acacius' armour.

He smiles broadly, "Acacius!!", he announces with his arms wide open. Geta looks over and wordlessly signals for the both of you to come closer. Each step on the marble floor felt slower than the next. As if you were walking to your death. The two Emperors shoo away the whores surrounding them, wanting to dedicate all of their attention to the entertainment that stood before them.

The General stands tall and begins, "Emperor Caracalla, Emperor Geta", he greets as he directs his attention to each of them.

"Acacius.", Geta greets in return, "Seems you have now earned your awaited respite, have you not?" he says stone-faced.

Caracalla finds this very humourous, giggling at his brother's words. "Yes, he really has brother, after all, he's done as asked...", lightly pointing in your direction, eyeing you, fiddling with his rings. His eyes scope you from head to toe, lingering on every uncovered area of your body. Which didn't leave him satisfied. Your attire didn't match those of the Romans. You feel your skin crawl, uncomfortable at such ogling.

From what you understood, Acacius had already conquered Numidia and was sent to get you straight after his conquest. You suppose that explains his unwillingness to negotiate. Not that the Emperors would have approved either way.

You tried to calm your thoughts and ignore one of the Emperors embedding stares. "Princess," Geta states, you politely nod, "Emperor Geta".

He hums "Hope, you weren't too startled by the entrance of our General," he fakes sincerity, barely holding back his smirk. He then glances towards his brother, who breaks like a dam.

"Haha, mhm. We're glad you're a poor shot, we wouldn't want Acacius here to have his eternal respite just yet" Caracalla laughs and giggles throughout his little joke.

"We'd have no choice but to wed Lucilla!" Geta jabs and laughs as he looks for the Generals reaction. Feeling dissatisfied when he doesn't outwardly react.

Geta calms, his demeanour changing. "But, please, don't let the avant-garde gesture affect the way you view us", he says, keeping his eyes on you. He adjusts in his seat.

Caracalla nods, "It's what needed to be done", he leans back, sprawling his legs out again.

You have trouble maintaining eye contact with either of them, transitioning from one to the other. As they settle down, Acacius pipes up. "She's travelled far, I'd suggest, Emperors, you let her rest for the day.", he tries to explain carefully.

They go silent for a second, exchanging glances. Geta starts, "You make a point, Acacius."

Caracalla nods "She should rest up and change..." he looks over you again, "..into some more appropriate clothing", he stopped mid sentence as if his thoughts drifted off elsewhere.

Geta gives him a bit of a disapproving look before directing his attention to you. "Yes, he is right, not to mention now that the General is back, the games shall finally begin.", he claps at the final statement.

"Which you will attend, Acacius", Caracalla leans forward and pointedly chuckles.

---

You were led to your personal chambers. They were guarded by two praetorians and were located close to the Emperors own. Which you weren't too fond of, it made you worry if anything.

The room was spacious, meant for royalty, you couldnt deny that. You saw that the wardrobe was open and filled with all kinds of silky clothing for you to wear. Which you knew would provide some ease for the heat you were experiencing. You’re stopped by a servant entering your chambers. You turn towards them expecting someone else.

"For you, Princess", she states as she places the bowl of fruit onto a small engraved table nearby. "From Emperor Geta himself", she finishes as she turns on her heel and leaves.

Your heart warms, this was oddly welcoming? Unexpected. However, you felt you couldn't let your guard down. You decide to change into something more comfortable before letting yourself indulge in the fruits before you.

The fruits consist of all kinds, not just home to Rome. Every single one you’ve tried so far was so sweet and refreshing. You head to the balcony with the bowl in hand. You gaze at the sky, and how it changed from all shades of blue to orange. This makes you think of home and how distant it is from where you stand now.

You wonder if your family misses you and if your father feels any remorse or regret. You've only just arrived and you feel more isolated than ever. You wonder… if this doesn't work out, will they let you go? Or will their bruised egos make sure to rid of you? You reach for another piece of sliced pear, only to feel the bottom of the bowl... You're afraid that this loneliness may affect your judgment.

Your head swiftly turns as you hear a few knocks on the door of your chamber. You waltz to the other side of the room, lightly treading to the door. As you open it, the other person doesn't wait for you to even register their presence, they just push themselves past you. You see a blur of orange and red and blink a few times before setting your eyes on them. It’s Caracalla. You've heard rumours of how unpredictable he is, well, they both are. The reason he is, however, is because of some sort of disease… If what you've heard from people is right.

"Emperor Caracalla," you say slightly flustered at his sudden entrance. You push the door shut. He waits for you and stands before you with a smile, "Princess."

You were unnerved, "Yes, Emperor..? Is there some wa-", he cut you off.

"I knocked!" he shouts, smugly.

What. You furrowed your eyebrows, "Mhm, you did..." you respond utterly confused at the declaration. He acted as if it was some sort of achievement.

Caracalla hums and takes a few steps forward, cornering you, "See? I've been on my best behaviour..." He ends this by gliding his nose against your collarbones, taking in your scent. His hands find their way to your waist, lightly taking hold of you. You feel his breath against your skin, you can smell the oils and perfumes he lathers himself with. All of a sudden you’re feeling warm again. He locks eyes with you, and this leads him to step back, slightly. "I like the change of outfit", he starts.

"The colour red…”, he begins as his eyes swerve over you, appreciating the way the silky garment is draped over your curves, “..is my favourite."

"..Oh, thank you, I'm glad then." you're unsure of what to say in this predicament.

He giggles at your response and then says calmly, "I'll let you rest," he takes your hand in his and kisses your knuckles, kissing each one separately. All while maintaining eye contact.

He then unexpectedly pulled your hand over his shoulder, making it so that there was no space between the two of you. His mouth was by your ear. "Sleep well", he whispers softly, the warmth of his breath faning over the side of your face.

You shy away at the forwardness and unexpected proximity, "..Thank you, Emperor, I hope rest finds you well." you lightly respond. You noticed that his smile widened.

"Empress." he declares, before leaving a chaste kiss on your cheek. He loosens his grip on you and scurries out of the room. Thud. The door shuts and you're left alone once more. His ghostly touches still linger on your body. Leaving you to wonder if this actually happened or if you have gone mad. You stand there in the same spot he left you, hand over your cheek. You're not sure what to feel anymore.

taglist - @duckyhowls @himikoquack <3

[lime-bloods]

Reading Roxy and Meenah as doppelgangers: a digression on manifestation theory

A brief introduction to manifestation

Manifestation theory sounds scary - the idea that the appearance of trolls and other fantastical creatures might double as insight into the psychological goings-on of our human protagonists is not one that necessarily comes intuitively to all readers. But as blogger azdoine succinctly put it: it's basically "just symbolism". Characters in a story symbolise something, and, understanding that Homestuck is chiefly about its human protagonists, it's logical to presume that the non-human elements symbolise things that are relevant to the protagonists' human experience.

mmmmalo has written at length about what he identifies as the signs linking Meenah to Roxy's inner psychodrama - the things that make Meenah an "esoteric mirror" or "doppelganger" of Roxy. For comprehensiveness' sake, I'm going to outline from scratch what I have identified to be the key signs, and to that end this post is going to discuss the topics of reproduction, reproductive coersion and miscarried pregnancy (with text-pertinent allusions to grooming and incestuous abuse).

One big happy family

Looks like a little girl's room. This all strikes you as a bit odd.

Hussie suggests only briefly in commentary that the young Roxy's (β) upbringing was at the hands of "a younger grandpa Harley" (Book 2, p. 106), but we needn't take their word for it; the scenery here speaks for itself. Roxy grew up in a dark green basement, trained from childhood to become an agent of Harley's goals, just as Damara (β) - and then by succession Meenah (β) - would be trained as English's agents. So, by analogy, Grandpa Harley is Lord English.

This is another point mmmmalo has (in)famously already made, but regardless of your thoughts on the particulars of that specific reading, the key clues pointing to English as a manifestation of the "Grandpa" character are still plain to see. When John says "the worst case scenario" would be "[facing] our grandfatherly paradox-dad as a last boss", he's explicitly referring to he and Jade's family patriarch, but he's also implicitly foreshadowing Lord English - a character who, in the maturity of 2024, we should now all be able to recognise is in one way everyone's grandfatherly paradox-dad. He represents the same upper echelon of paternalistic power on a cosmic scale that Jake (β) represents on a familial level.

Moving this along towards my point: essentially all of Acts 1-4's adult characters form part of this elaborate Nuclear Family Roleplay - a pantomime of the 'Suburban' setting Homestuck is founded upon. In the same way Jake being known as simply "Grandpa" symbolises his arch-patriarchal position, the reason Roxy is known only as MOM for the first five acts of the comic is because this is the archetypal, impersonal role she has been reduced down into. Her relationship with the character named DAD is a direct invocation of this - the two are essentially playing house, living out the gendered roles that have societally/cosmically been laid out for them. The comic's exposition coyly brushes over this, but a deeper look at Alternian culture gives us a much clearer vision of why 'MOM and DAD' make such an iconic matespritship: on Alternia there ARE no real family units, only procreation, and therefore matespritship is understood by the planet's inhabitants as a mere expression of "mating fondness". MOM and DAD make such a cute couple because they are exactly what their assigned titles depict them as - a breeding pair.

This is basically the crux of Roxy's arc right up to the very end of the comic; though Roxy's (Α) post-apocalyptic anxieties about the extinction of the human race bring these thoughts to the forefront, her struggle within the patriarchal structures of the household / society / reality itself has always been that she is only valued as a MOM - as a breeding machine.

The problem therein is that Roxy is seemingly incapable of having children.

The grieving mother

Within Sburb's scheme of universal childbirth, a "void session" is one that simply doesn't have the eggs required to bear fruit. So it's immediately easy to see why the Hero of Void would have similar trouble bringing a pregnancy to term. But certainly not for lack of trying!

Sorry, Jaspers [...] your final resting place is already a mockery. You should have decomposed years ago under a bed of petunias like a normal cat. Not given to a taxidermist and fitted with a tiny, custom-tailored suit, and then stuffed in a coffin built for infants.

When Rose was still very young, Jaspers was found dead. Roxy took the death of her CAT so hard that Rose found it difficult to take her grief seriously, interpreting the cat's elaborate mausoleum as a "structure erected with a spirit of scornful IRONY in response to [a] youthfully innocent request to hold a funeral for the animal." But more than any other, Rose and Roxy's relationship is one defined by miscommunication, and this assessment of Roxy's grief doesn't even seem to hold up to Rose's own recollection of events: later, we hear that the funeral service was something Roxy "insisted upon".

And thus begins probably Homestuck's most clear-cut example of a character's arc stretching across multiple iterations, because from this point - parallel to her neverending quest to settle down with a nice hubby and start a family - Roxy (both β and Α) becomes fixated on bringing back her baby - I mean CAT - only to produce failed mutant after failed mutant. These freaks of nature are not Jaspers, and by the laws of time travel dictating the lives of Paradox Clones they can never be Jaspers. The younger Roxy's first few attempts are literally stillborn; while she's eventually able to create what she calls "healthy felines", she still keeps those monsters locked in the basement they came from, for fear of upsetting her real CAT.

Even as over the course of her Sburb quest and her interactions with the new arrivals from the other session Roxy is seemingly able to address and even overcome some of this obsessive gnostalgia for the things she's lost, her apparent inability to bring to term resurfaces when she's made the reproductive object of another grieving mother.

The lamenting queen (or: the other mother)

Her Imperious Condescension is not so immediately recognisable as part of the family pantomime because the troll social structure doesn't use the same terminology we're familiar with, but she's always been there; just as Lord English is grandfather of grandfathers, Meenah is the family tree's literal grandmatriarch of grandmatriarchs, placed upon the Earth in the guise of Betty Crocker - archetypal nurturing housewife - so that her children's children might seed the events architected by her master. This kind of familial roleplay is exactly how English and Meenah's story is passed down to her descendants; Jake recalls that "the witch used to be married to a terrible man named english." Dirk is insistent, though, that this is a masking of the truth, and that English was only ever "her superior". And while it's true that we can't say for sure a young Meenah (β) slept in the same bed Damara grew up in, the fact that Meenah was only formally recruited after Damara's death should not be mistaken for suggesting that Meenah was not one of English's many daughters. She was "the Lo+rd's slave all alo+ng", even if implicitly.

ARANEA: Once she claimed the throne, she would have to serve for many thousands of years, until the next successor was ready.

For all the differences between Meenah and Roxy's cultures, slavery in the form of motherhood has always been the expectation of the female fuchsia caste, right from the very beginning of Meenah's arc - not as the empress of Alternia, but on Beforus, where the hemospectrum is reframed in far more familial terms:

ARANEA: The jo8 of each 8lood caste was to serve the needs of all those 8elow it. ARANEA: We were to use our progressively greater longevity and wisdom to help the lower castes learn and grow. To listen to them and try to provide whatever they were missing. Like a hierarchy of caretakers with increasing social responsi8ility.

Crucially, this is where Meenah and Roxy appear most to act as reflections but not carbon copies of each other; because where Roxy constantly strives to contort herself into this motherly, wifely role, Meenah perpetually runs from it. Saddled with the "incredi8le responsi8ility" of sitting atop Beforus' structure of care, Meenah "viewed the empress as a glorified slave" and fled to the moon, and even forced into ascendancy on Alternia she finds implicit ways to be absent from her children, spending her life flying further and further away from the planet where they're born and taking every opportunity to hand off any real political authority to clown rappers (a tendency reflected in her human heirs - the company is always passed on to the son and never the daughter).

But when Meenah finally returns home to find her children suddenly massacred by a galactic apocalypse, her arc begins to pull into line with Roxy's in earnest.

A fluffy twitching prison

TT: The rumors say it was her own "pet" who killed them.

From the moment of her dramatic introduction, Meenah's tragedy is that though she can extend life indefinitely, she cannot have back what she's lost, and this continues to be true as she attempts to resurrect her children on a new planet; attempt after attempt, her babies all die. Despite Gl'bgolyb's explicit death in the meteoric holocaust which claimed the rest of her family, the creature has inexplicably returned on the trolls' prospective new homeworld with the apparent sole purpose of making sure Meenah can't carry to term. We're left to our own devices to figure out just what's going on here.

Act 6 of Homestuck introduces Watchmen to its repertoire of intertexts through Jane's poster of cobalt beefcake MANHATTAN. Watchmen's Dr. Manhattan is an omnipotent world-shaping being who flees the responsibilities of Earth to settle on the planet Mars, iconically rendered in beautiful rosy hues by colourist John Higgins - when we hear the story of Meenah's refusal to the call of being Beforus' own god-empress, it's against the backdrop of a photograph of Mars literally hue-shifted pink (see fourth image), and images of Meenah's ship flying over a settlement on the red planet are included among the products advertised by Crockercorp. Far more explicitly, though: Watchmen originated the idea of using the screams of a psychic alien squid as political leverage, and that's why Gl'bgolyb has to be here for this part.

Alongside commenting on the political landscape of the 80s and the fascist undertones of the superhuman archetypes found in comic books, Watchmen pays particular attention to these characters' sexual eccentricities, and particularly their hangups with women. It stands to reason that of the latter closet homosexual Ozymandias' are the most severe, but they also become the most explicit: the artificial 'horrorterror' he uses to usher in his new world order is his fear of the female body made manifest. With its single clitoral eye and sphinctered mouth, the creature is unmistakeably yonic, and included in the horrific psychic imagery it broadcasts to instill fear into the Earth's population are nightmarish images of juvenile aliens chewing their way out of their mother's womb - the very same image trolls use to describe their disgust at human reproduction in The Homestuck Epilogues. Meenah's relationship to Gl'gboylb should be thought of the exact same way; one of the rare insights we receive into the adult Meenah's psyche is that she finds the process of giving birth "revolting", and it's for this reason she insists that humans procreate only through impersonal cloning. Gl'bgolyb reappears as Meenah's own manifestation: alienated from her own lusus after spending centuries literally running away from it, and traumatised by repeated miscarried attempts at reviving her race, she sees her own reproductive organs as nothing more than a hideous, baby-killing monster. It's no coincidence that when we see our single glimpse of the enigmatic emissary to the horrorterrors on Earth, it's with its tendrils wrapped around the throat of a symbolic depiction of the Genesis Frog (see above image) - the baby that grows in the womb of Skaia.

Breaking the cycle

By Act 6, the matriorb has already long been associated with failed and aborted pregnancies, having been rescued from the first mother it killed and taken into the care of Kanaya, who is then blasted through the abdomen just as it's destroyed, symbolically miscarrying through physical trauma. So when Roxy is tasked with finally bringing a dead baby back to life, it's a coalescence of multiple disparate threads.

(p. 6463)

Meenah unwittingly - or perhaps uncaringly - perpetuates a patriarchal cycle which has been repeating for eternity by selecting a younger, more fertile doppelganger to take over the role of mother, and locks Roxy in a dungeon with the intention of making her have the baby in her place. But, cycles being cycles and doppelgangers being doppelgangers, the same problem arises. Roxy can only create mutants.

When Roxy does ultimately overcome this, ending the comic with the culmination of this long, meandering motherhood arc, superficially it's because of time spent blitzing her Void chakras in the space outside of reality, and with the help of Calliope as a Muse. But in the time Roxy spends in the white nothingness, she's crucially able to take steps to end her own obsession with reviving the past - not just by burying a version of her own mother, who she spent so much time hoping to resurrect in sprite form, but also in sharing a tearful reunion with the literal ghost of her dead CAT. As with so much of Homestuck, the key to ending the suffering is breaking the self-perpetuating cycle that causes it; made literal, in this case, by Roxy's slaying of her dark mirror image using a sword known for splitting vinyl records - symbolically, for breaking the ever-turning circle of time. And in passing the matriorb off to Kanaya rather than letting Meenah have control of it, Roxy never actually brings this baby to term herself, either - at the end of the day, the minutiae of biology aren't really what motherhood is about:

ROXY: the way i see it is you shouldnt have needed to worry about makin the thing ROXY: i think it will be challenging enough like... ROXY: hatching it?? ROXY: and tending to all the stuff that comes next ROXY: isnt that basically being responsible for the preservation of an entire race of people?

Physically overcoming her demonic doppelganger isn't the end-all of Roxy's struggle with gendered expectation, either. Roxy's complicated relationship with their sex and their motherhood, introduced to us only indirectly through the relationship between Meenah and Gl'bgolyb, becomes central to their understanding and exploration of their own gender identity as they grow into adulthood. Anxieties about the inherent femininity of a childbearing body - the glorified slavery that is seemingly inherent to the cosmically-assigned role of the mother - give way to an understanding of the human body as "something altogether different [...] A flesh machine" with "a specific, practical purpose."

But I digress

The threads running between Roxy and Meenah exist along the types of lines most Homestuck readers will already be familiar with in some form. When two characters share a class, or an aspect, we expect that traits from one character can be used to analyse and further our understanding of the other. Manifestation theory simply asks that we look for even more subtle and non-literal connections between characters than these - a process which Andrew Hussie themself has identified in authorial commentary as part of what they call "persona alchemy". (Book 4, p. 151)

Roxy and Meenah's particular relationship, though, should also be thought of in terms of another phenomenon which is central to Homestuck's structure - escalation. Homestuck constantly reorders and transmutes the alchemical elements that compose one character into 'new' characters, but it also consistently stretches these fundamental concepts to their logical extremes. Just as a game that destroys planets works its way up to the destruction of universes, John striving to leave his house in Act 1 should be taken as the logical precursor to our heroes leaving reality itself in Act 7. The forces keeping these children in their houses - essentially the story's first ever antagonists - are their parents, and as we scale this story up to a cosmic level, we find that the cosmos is dictated by the same suburban family structures; by celestial GRANDPAs and MOMs, raising/grooming/training/neglecting entire worlds or even galactic empires at once.

By allowing us to meet not only the teen MOMs and BROs and NANNAs, but also the teen Lord Englishes and the teen Condesces, the scratch takes us in the opposite direction, reducing these faceless, larger-than-life figures into their smallest, weakest, most fundamentally human forms. And in some cases, as in Roxy's, this creates the opportunity for the child-form to confront and overcome the very darkest of their potential; by being the one to put Meenah down, Roxy not only liberates herself from her own expectations for what a mother has to be and do, but shatters the very cosmic image of MOM itself, breaking the mold that reality had set in stone for her entire sex - her entire caste.

[beifong-brainrot]

Aang is great because almost every ship you can put him in instantly becomes top-tier.

Like:

Kataang- they literally make me cry every single time I think of them. Their love story is wonderful and genuinely heartwarming. It symbolises healing and peace for both of them and the literal world. He showed her the world and he's her biggest supporter and she always defends him and they find solace in each other because they understand what it's like to be the last of their respective kind. And they're each other's hope and just... ahhh. They're so much more than the vanilla hero gets the girl ship people paint it as. Haters stay mad or smth.

Zukaang- the symbolism? They're the actual Ying and Yang of the show! The Rozin parallels? Them standing in a vortex of rainbow fire as two dragons (the blue one like Aang's tatoos facing zuko and the other one, red like Zuko's general colour scheme facing Aang) forming a heart shape around them? Zuko was literally searching for Aang and found his redemption in Aang and Aang made him a better person and Aang is literally the only person who genuinely experienced Fire Nation culture before the war and he clearly values it and he's helping Zuko bring peace to the world and the nation...

Taang- The og tomboy x soft boy dynamic. He's literally the person that helped her free herself from her parents and Air is the element of freedom? And she teaches him when to stand firm like the Earth? And I love when they do synchronised earthbending it's so satisfying and they work so well together. Toph having lost her face in one of Aang's nightmares is also a nice parallel to Ummi and Kuruk. (One caveat though: i hate taang being used as a "get Aang out of the way" side ship to Zutara)

Sokaang- they kinda come out of left field for me but the more I think about them the more obsessed I become. It's all about a teenage boy who has been forced into a role that demanded way too much of him finally learning to trust and rely on others. It's about Sokka finally living out the childhood that he was forced to grow out of. Sokka also has such a cute bond with Momo and more importantly, Appa, Aang's animal soulmate. The fics write themselves.

Sukaang- ok, I know Suki and Aang barely interacted in the show but like Hear me out.Suki is so connected to one of Aang's past lives. And she saved Appa, which would totally bond her and Aang (genuinely distressed that this was never discussed in canon). And they both value a sense of community so much, and Aang was one of the people who inspired Suki to leave Kyoshi to help others. Plus, there could be some amazing Rangshi parallels if Suki became Aang's bodyguard instead of Zuko's, which could be very plausible.

Azulaang- I adore this ship because I genuinely think Aang could really help Azula find her redemption. Hell, he was so nice to her in The Search and she literally killed him. Plus I've already laughed about how it would absolutely kill Ozai. The mental crisis Azula would go through due to fallingin love with Aang would be hilarious, and also the guilt over everything she's done, as Aang's kindness makes her realsie she was on the wrong side this whole time. He's one of the only people who can beat her at her prime and he doesn't seem to fear her at all, which is rare for her. Aang could give her the unconditional love she so desperately craves and needs.

Maiaang- genuinely adorable to me. Other than the obvious grumpy x sunshine trope, Maiaang has a lot of potential. Mai seems to genuinely like Aang in the comics, which is really cute. I also think Aang would be able to help Mai express her more positive emotions, other than just anger. Also something about the girl who was forced to remain silent and passive her whole life learning to finally let go and allow herself to just live with the help of probably one of the most active and expressive characters of the show has me by the throat. Plus, he got along great with her lil bro!

Tyaang- They're so similar and cute and bubbly! They'd have tons of fun together and I just know Ty Lee would teach Aang some gymnastics and he really enjoy it! I think he can also find Ty Lee's chiblocking very cool, since it is essentially a great way to deal with a conflict without causing permanent damage. Very airbendery. Speaking of which, Ty Lee is also very airbendry herself. I can genuinely see her finding herself in Air Nomad culture and be excited to help revive it.

Onjaang- i just find this ship so funny because imagine being a random schoolgirl in the fire nation and not only rizzing up a demigod but rizzing that demigod up successfully. This ship can also go so many ways depending on On Ji's reaction to that random cute guy who threw a cool dance party is actually the Avatar, so it's certainly interesting.

Yuaang- the ultimate cinnamon roll x cinnamon roll ship. But more than that, there's of course the Yue becoming the Moon Spirit and Aang getting lowkey possessed by the grieving Ocean Spirit. There's Yue appearing when Aang needed her most, while he's stranded in the middle of the ocean and helping him. They both understand sacrifice and responsibility, and maybe they could comfort each other through it. Also Aang being the bridge between the spirit worlds and Yue being a Spirit could lead to a very interesting romance, depending on how much the Avatar could interact with the Moon Spirit.

Jetaang- ok, Aang was just as infatuated with Jet as Katara was, right? And I think Aang was heavily affected by Jet's actions and behaviour. Also Aang really not wanting to hurt Jet while fighting him (twice!) was really cute. And Aang helping Jet snap out of the Dai Li brainwashing could be a really cool ship moment the more you think anout it.

Teoaang- Honestly their little one sided rivalry at the beginning of the episode was really cute. And I think there could be some interesting symbolism between them. Aang symbolising the old and Teo symbolising the new. They compliment each other like that. Teo comforting Aang by showing him that the critters of the temple are still alive and well is also sweet. And Aang admitting that Teo has the spirit of an airbender is so sweet.

Kuzaang- they're adorable. I loved the comic about them. Aang calling Kuzon "Hotman" is really funny. Aang helping Kuzon make a bigger flame with airbending is also really sweet. I especially like this ship in combination with Zukaang. It's such tasty symbolism.

Aang may just be the most shippable charater of this franchise, argue with the wall. He's so filled with love I have no choice but to multiship.

[rainy-weather-supremacy]

My thoughts/ideas on a TMA musical

(If anyone wants to help me with this it would be apprechiated 😭😭)

(Under the cut because it's kinda long)

Act I: Introduction, Prentiss & Shenanigans A

Act II: Shenanigans B; Unknowing & Shenanigans C

Act III: Door and Eyepocalypse

TMA important plot points

Act I

Jon hates Martin

Bicon Tim!! 💖💜💙

Prentiss

Michael (Sasha & Helen)

Not!Sasha

Rip Gertrude

Paranoia

Homophobic vase

Table

Leitner

Wanted :(

Georgie & Admiral

Jude

Mike & Daisy

Elias is evil???? 😱😱😱

Act II

Kidnapping

Helen

Jon & Tim trauma 😃👍🏽

Unknowing

Rip Daisy

Zzzzz

Melanie 🔪

Non-Human

Bone 🦴

Oh hey Daisy! :D

🔪👁 Melanie uhoh

Lukas & lonely

Jmart (Cows)

Akt III

Eyepocalypse

Kicking the asses of various Avatars

Martin 😶‍🌫️😭

Rip Daisy 2 electrical boogaloo

Salesa

Tower

Annabelle (But musical plot)

Rip boys 😭🥲😔🫡

Stuff

Peter only shows up at the end when he has to, other than that he is either not there or poorly hidden. He doesnt want people to see him.

Annabelles plan is for a musical instead

Jon feeds on the applause after a number

Not!Sasha always loudly declares to the audience that she is Sasha and that the other actor is…. Taking a break. :)

Jon and Tim sing about their childhood trauma (Daisy: I killed a man when I was eleven. Jon and Tim: 😟 [End song]) 

Unknowing is Nikolas villain song

Worm song

Statements are short songs Jon/Statement givers burst out into

Elias interruping Jon‘s song abt how he is finally happy (😭) and forcing him to sing a duet with him in mag 160

Annabelles evil song sounds like she's a grade 2 teacher and explaining why pandas are bears or whatever. Yeah that but she keeps starting out easy and then gets too complicated quickly so she has to start again

Distortion pops out of random doors that led to entirely different places just before and after

Helen slams the door into Michaels face when she enters and he dies(™️)

The 'crawls and chokes and blinds and falls' part is a rap

Helen falls through the trap door floor when she dies (maybe?)

Toothrotting Jmart fluff. I can do what I wnat tbis is my musical

Sad ending

One or more person sees the audience (Elias; Anabelle; Jon (as the pupil); Not!Sasha; Helen; More?)

While Jon is in a coma, calm music plays. There is screaming in the background and Melanie running around with knifes, first being chased by something and then chasing something. Both she and the thing leave through Helens door, who waves to the audience and then closes the door in a cool way

Mag 100 is a short comedic intermission you only understand 1/5 of

Every time Jon enters the stage after leaving, he is in slightly worse condition

I open the door immediately before the 2. pause bc big applause (When he says it the doors open for the break?)

Paranoid Jon song: I see you

End of S4 song: I see you (Reprise) [I know who you are / I'll find you out] vs [I know who you are / I'll find you and I'll get you out]

All the fears have a specific instrument assigned to them

Before the first pause, Elias is alone on stage for a moment, turns to the audience and bows. With the applause, a eye appears on/over him by projector

Spotlight as a symbolisation of the eye, something that might be seen as a blessing but becomes a curse if unwanted. It turns on during statements etc and in the tunnels, it's a flashlight instead because they are illuminating themselfes. You walk and the light that shows where you are follows. Running from the spotlight.

Beginning, to audience: You are an eye. Watching over the people if the world for ages yet, there are a few people that stand out to you. Here's one that will become important to you soon. (Cue curtain open to reveal Jon at his desk going 'one, two, one, two, test, test'.)

Ending, to audience: You are an eye. You have watched this world for a long time, but now, it's time to go… somewhere else. (Before bows)

S4 Lonely song called 'no one but you' where Perter is like 'you have no one but you' and Martin agrees and sings along but when Peter is gone he thinks of Jon and sings it in a way that 'you' is Jon like "I have no one but you".

The people who get smited (smitten?) see the audience and are horrified

When people get smitten, a bright spotlight focuses on them and a soft green one on Jon

Akt I

Beginning, first statement (Maybe it's only kind of a rhyme, not a full-on song yet)

More statements & Introduction to the Archival assistants (Martin is introduced first so that he's absent for the rest of the song) (I'm so smart) (Here we can probably also establish that Jon hates him and that Tim is bi?) (Also Melanie shows up for the first time)

-> What about combining those first two points and making like. An archiving song 🤔

Martin storms in with the worms in a jar (That in one scene, cut to a person going "youre saying that… [plot]?")

Sasha meets Michael and Jon first Helen, then Michael as well (A kind of spiral song)

Attack von Prentiss (Worm song)

Sasha gets killed & replaced (Maybe do something meta with the actors here, or just someone that looks completely different shows up wearing a 'the real sasha james' shirt?)

Martin finds Gertrude's corpse, notices the alarm is over and Jane is defeated. Does kind of a weak 'oh… I- I guess it's over' and stumbles away

They meet back up in bandages, not!Sasha is like "YES IT'S ME! SASHA!!!"

Jon's talking to the tape recorder like 'Idk I feel like somethings's wrong' and stalks on the archival assistants who are just like. Drinking tea. Talking. Doing work (or not). Meanwhile Sasha is in the background doing the most obvious and sus shit which he always just barely misses

Jon concludes that someone wants to kill him and sings abt it (I see you)

The song has an interruption with the others coming in for the intervention (And he only gets more paranoid after)

1 or 2 more statements are being read out during the song (or just the title/s said?)

He realizes that it's not Sasha by listening to a tape. In it, on the other side of the stage, Sasha and Tim are talking.  Not!Sasha tries to use her body to stop the audience from seeing this, but fails bc thats not really possible (walks around back and forth waving her arms so she doesn't acually block it for someone the whole time y'know?)

He says a final time "I see you" and the song ends

Jon destroy the table, Not!Sasha and Michael show up

Leitner uses the book to conjure up magical spirits (stage crew) and move the set so u cant see Not!Sasha anymore, which makes her mad but oh well

He starts to explain but mid-song Jon 'goes outside' and Elias comes in, finishes the song in an EVIL (😨) way and turns to the audience, puts a finger to his lips and leaves

Jon comes back and is like 'o shit' and runs away off-stage

Daisy and Basira come by to interrogate everyone (Show here Jon is wanted by police)

He stays at Georgies, who is cool, and pets the admiral

Jon sings a statement abt how Jude is dangerous and decides to pay her a visit. What could go wrong?? He leaves.

Melanie gets hired (Mention that she got shot by a ghost)

Jon's back from Jude and he has a burnt hand but is also on his way to Mike Crew- Surely he cant fuck this one up!

He visits Mike, fucks it up

Daisy kills Mike (rip) and wants to kill Jon but Basira is like wtf and stops her murder song before she can (Something like Get away with this?)

They all confront Elias an he is actually…. E V I L ?!???!!?? 😱😨🤯

Akt II

(First MAG 100?)

For the kidnapping, probably start with him kidnapped and then Michael shows up and is like "Wow Archivist u fucked up I cant believe EVIL SKIN STEALING DOLLS KIDNAPPED YOU AND WANT TO [plot]"

Helen shows up and slams Michaels door in his face and is like 'cmon lets go'

We need to stop the unknowing guys

Tim confronts Jon (Do not ask me what this means all I know is that here we establish they have beef)

Jon & Tim trauma song

They somehow find dynamite. Maybe one more short statement here as well?

They go to the wax museum and there is talking

Nikola villain song (aka unknowing) that ends with Tim being smug and also exploding. During the song there is a brief segment to what each of the characters is going through

The Martin also has to be somewhere here 🔥📃

Jon is in a coma and the Melanie/Weird stuff chase scene

Oliver comes by and he wakes up

They still dont like him

Oh so Martin is working for Mr. Evil man and also Tim and Daisy are dead?!

Statements

(Idk what happens here? Stuff ig???)

Melanie operation (Gone wrong‼️)

Jon realizes he's not really human anymore, which he kind of knew but still he comes to the conclusion that it sucks and therefore so does he (bestie please)

The coffin is delivered

He goes straight into Helens hallways and comes back out with a rib. While he's gone, Martin passes by briefly and we see how lonely he is.

Jon goes into the coffin and finds Daisy which is a song for sure

They come back out and Basira and Daisy are like 🫂

The Dark??

Jon finds out how to leave

Lets gouge our eyes out scene

Melanie gets her eyes' ass and goes away to kiss Georgie (Shes just like "guess ill go get rid of my eyes & kiss my girlfriend byyyeee")

Statement that is interrupted/just after it the hunters come and Jon is like "oh no the hunters from my trip to america" basira/daisy: "when were you in amerika???" Jon: "That time I came home and you said I smelled like guns. Anyways panik."

Daisy goes wolf mode very dramatically after Jon runs off stage to find martin

Elias and Peter (who we finally really ses) reveal the evil plan to Martin who is like "how about no" and then tries to stab Peter (or something like that idk) but there is fog and he is gone

Jon storms in like "MAHTIN!"

The lonely scene with the song

They are in a nice house and it's cool and fluffy

Martin leaves for milk and cows

Jon sings abt how he's finally happy and Elias gets his smug bastard ass in there and forces him to dance along and sing a duet and to fucking rap oh my god this is a crime (After all this time)

It ends with "I- OPEN- THE- DOOR!" as all the door out of the room open

Akt III

Jon goes into a song about the safehouse but Tim and Sasha sing a duet in the background 

They decide to leave

Helen shows up like the bothersome creature (/aff) she is

They meet the Not!Them

Smiting song, which is mostly action-packed but there's four parts and the third is MAG 165 (Not!Them - Jude - Lonely house - Jared)

Hunt song starting with Trevor and ending with Daisys death

Uptown house (Either off-stage or Salesa starts trying to sing a song but they faint and he complains when the lights go out)

Martin sings a duet with himself 

Jon kills real estate agent, which starts off as a statement but that one woman derails it

Short song abt the Eye & London

Song abt and/or by WTG about their cult where they 1) love each other and 2) deny being prophets whil the cultists sing a chorus about how great the prophets are

Jmart visit Jonah & Jon sings about how he could make things better in his place and gets more & more enthusiastic until Martin interrupts him and they fight (through song?), ending with Martin storming away

Jon sings abt how he knows what's best / Annabelle sings to Martin that she can show him what's best

Jon notices that Martin is gone and goes after him in a boat. (While he's rowing, Fight Song starts going "like a small boat… on the ocean….." and then Basira shows up and climbs in his boat and stops the song (shoots the speaker?) /hj)

Annabelle villain song in which she also explains the rift ("You've grabbed something/someone's attention" while looking directly at the audience. Jon, Martin & Basira follow her gaze but don't see anything) + for sure do the "You have no idea who's listening/watching, do you?"

They talk about what to do & vote that they'll follow Annabelles plan, much to Jons distress. (Make what they want to do very clear here)

Jon goes up, song where he gets his revenge (& ascends)

When he becomes the pupil and the song stops, Jon really looks around and sees the audience & goes kind of "What… Who- Who…? O-Oh. Oh." and stares at them before getting distracted by Martin arriving, who can't see them

Martin arrives and they talk and find what they have to do

Short but bitter-sweet last song together

Ending

Bows

[hauntingofhouses]

Very interesting to me that a certain subset of the BES fandom's favourite iterations of Mizu and Akemi are seemingly rooted in the facades they have projected towards the world, and are not accurate representations of their true selves.

And I see this is especially the case with Mizu, where fanon likes to paint her as this dominant, hyper-masculine, smirking Cool GuyTM who's going to give you her strap. And this idea of Mizu is often based on the image of her wearing her glasses, and optionally, with her cloak and big, wide-brimmed kasa.

And what's interesting about this, to me, is that fanon is seemingly falling for her deliberate disguise. Because the glasses (with the optional combination of cloak and hat) represent Mizu's suppression of her true self. She is playing a role.

Take this scene of Mizu in the brothel in Episode 4 for example. Here, not only is Mizu wearing her glasses to symbolise the mask she is wearing, but she is purposely acting like some suave and cocky gentleman, intimidating, calm, in control. Her voice is even deeper than usual, like what we hear in her first scene while facing off with Hachiman the Flesh-Trader in Episode 1.

This act that Mizu puts on is an embodiment of masculine showboating, which is highly effective against weak and insecure men like Hachi, but also against women like those who tried to seduce her at the Shindo House.

And that brings me to how Mizu's mask is actually a direct parallel to Akemi's mask in this very same scene.

Here, Akemi is also putting up an act, playing up her naivety and demure girlishness, using her high-pitched lilted voice, complimenting Mizu and trying to make small talk, all so she can seduce and lure Mizu in to drink the drugged cup of sake.

So what I find so interesting and funny about this scene, characters within it, and the subsequent fandom interpretations of both, is that everyone seems to literally be falling for the mask that Mizu and Akemi are putting up to conceal their identities, guard themselves from the world, and get what they want.

It's also a little frustrating because the fanon seems to twist what actually makes Mizu and Akemi's dynamic so interesting by flattening it completely. Because both here and throughout the story, Mizu and Akemi's entire relationship and treatment of each other is solely built off of masks, assumptions, and misconceptions.

Akemi believes Mizu is a selfish, cocky male samurai who destroyed her ex-fiance's career and life, and who abandoned her to let her get dragged away by her father's guards and forcibly married off to a man she didn't know. on the other hand, Mizu believes Akemi is bratty, naive princess who constantly needs saving and who can't make her own decisions.

These misconceptions are even evident in the framing of their first impressions of each other, both of which unfold in these slow-motion POV shots.

Mizu's first impression of Akemi is that of a beautiful, untouchable princess in a cage. Swirling string music in the background.

Akemi's first impression of Mizu is of a mysterious, stoic "demon" samurai who stole her fiance's scarf. Tense music and the sound of ocean waves in the background.

And then, going back to that scene of them together in Episode 4, both Mizu and Akemi continue to fool each other and hold these assumptions of each other, and they both feed into it, as both are purposely acting within the suppressive roles society binds them to in order to achieve their goals within the means they are allowed (Akemi playing the part of a subservient woman; Mizu playing the part of a dominant man).

But then, for once in both their lives, neither of their usual tactics work.

Akemi is trying to use flattery and seduction on Mizu, but Mizu sees right through it, knowing that Akemi is just trying to manipulate and harm her. Rather than give in to Akemi's tactics, Mizu plays with Akemi's emotions by alluding to Taigen's death, before pinning her down, and then when she starts crying, Mizu just rolls her eyes and tells her to shut up.

On the opposite end, when Mizu tries to use brute force and intimidation, Akemi also sees right through it, not falling for it, and instead says this:

"Under your mask, you're not the killer you pretend to be."

Nonetheless, despite the fact that they see a little bit through each other's masks, they both still hold their presumptions of each other until the very end of the season, with Akemi seeing Mizu as an obnoxious samurai swooping in to save the day, and Mizu seeing Akemi as a damsel in distress.

And what I find a bit irksome is that the fandom also resorts to flattening them to these tropes as well.

Because Mizu is not some cool, smooth-talking samurai with a big dick sword as Akemi (and the fandom) might believe. All of that is the facade she puts up and nothing more. In reality, Mizu is an angry, confused and lonely child, and a masterful artist, who is struggling against her own self-hatred. Master Eiji, her father figure who knows her best, knows this.

And Akemi, on the other hand, is not some girly, sweet, vain and spoiled princess as Mizu might believe. Instead she has never cared for frivolous things like fashion, love or looks, instead favouring poetry and strategy games instead, and has always only cared about her own independence. Seki, her father figure who knows her best, knows this.

But neither is she some authoritative dominatrix, though this is part of her new persona that she is trying to project to get what she wants. Because while Akemi is willful, outspoken, intelligent and authoritative, she can still be naive! She is still often unsure and needs to have her hand held through things, as she is still learning and growing into her full potential. Her new parental/guardian figure, Madame Kaji, knows this as well.

So with all that being said, now that we know that Mizu and Akemi are essentially wearing masks and putting up fronts throughout the show, what would a representation of Mizu's and Akemi's true selves actually look like? Easy. It's in their hair.

This shot on the left is the only time we see Mizu with her hair completely down. In this scene, she's being berated by Mama, and her guard is completely down, she has no weapon, and is no longer wearing any mask, as this is after she showed Mikio "all of herself" and tried to take off the mask of a subservient housewife. Thus, here, she is sad, vulnerable, and feeling small (emphasised further by the framing of the scene). This is a perfect encapsulation of what Mizu is on the inside, underneath all the layers of revenge-obsession and the walls she's put around herself.

In contrast, the only time we Akemi with her hair fully down, she is completely alone in the bath, and this scene takes place after being scorned by her father and left weeping at his feet. But despite all that, Akemi is headstrong, determined, taking the reigns of her life as she makes the choice to run away, but even that choice is reflective of her youthful naivety. She even gets scolded by Seki shortly after this in the next scene, because though she wants to be independent, she still hasn't completely learned to be. Not yet. Regardless, her decisiveness and moment of self-empowerment is emphasised by the framing of the scene, where her face takes up the majority of the shot, and she stares seriously into the middle distance.

To conclude, I wish popular fanon would stop mischaracterising these two, and flattening them into tropes and stereotypes (ie. masculine badass swordsman Mizu and feminine alluring queen but also girly swooning damsel Akemi), all of which just seems... reductive. It also irks me when Akemi is merely upheld as a love interest and romantic device for Mizu and nothing more, when she is literally Mizu's narrative foil (takes far more narrative precedence over romantic interest) and the deuteragonist of this show. She is her own person. That is literally the theme of her entire character and arc.

[widows-venom]

⊹₊⟡⋆ THE EMPRESS

(teacher!)lilia calderu x gn!reader

✮⋆˙summary

lilia was trying to teach you card reading, but you are constantly distracted. she makes it her mission to find out what distracts you so much and punish you accordingly.

✮⋆˙trigger warnings

spanking (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), mommy kink, some degradation

✮⋆˙author’s note

hey, starling here! so this is my second post and i never thought my little story about wanda would blow up as much as it did! thank you for all the likes and reblogs, and followers! before i posted, i had three and now i have 60!

i’m working on the second part to my wanda story, meanwhile, enjoy this if you like :)

in this story, i tried to make the reader gender neutral, i hope that’s the right term. i mean, obviously the reader is described with having female body parts, but i kept the pet names gender neutral. for my non binary enjoyers :3 let me know what you think, please! i do not want to offend anyone or stuff, and decided to try it out.

you had never known hands could be this attractive. sure, you’ve read of it. random people in the internet thirsting about a celebrity’s, or a movie characters hands but in real life? it had seemed odd, weird even but right now, you understood it all.

you were sitting across from lilia, who was somewhat of your teacher. you had come into her little store and asked if she could give you instructions on tarot reading and lilia had decided to just take you under her wing, because she had enough time, how she put it.

you think she just wanted to spend time with someone.

whatever words lilia was explaining to you, you were too focused on something else. the way her hands, those veiny, slender hands were moving around the tarot board. she was probably explaining to you which card belonged where, which place holder symbolised what — but your mind was completely fixed in those hands.

her slender, long fingers, adorned by short, manicured nails. her pretty, chunky rings that fit her overall style and personality. they did something to you. your stomach churned, your legs clenched together.

god, how would those hands feel on your skin? wrapped around your throat. her nails gently raking up and down on your thighs before parting them. her fingers brushing through your folds, her cold rings making contact with your clit and —

“are you even listening to me right now?”, lilia’s soft but stern voice rings out, affectively cutting of whatever imagery had been playing in your head.

until you look up and meet those big, brown puppy eyes of hers. the once that make you want to fall on your knees and beg for forgiveness, even though you haven’t done anything. the one’s that make you wnat to do anything she asks of you.

“sweatheart”, lilia huffs, her brows furrowing a little. “answer me”

god. did she even know what she was doing to you? you wet your dry lips and swallow, hoping to smoothen your hoarse throat. you shift on your chair, trying to ease some tension and cross your legs.

“i- of course i was listening, lilia”

her eyes narrow at you. “you know i don’t like liars, sweatheart”, she drawles, her hands resting on the divination table and lilia leans forward a little. “spit it out. now”

her commanding tone sends a shiver down your back and you you have to gulp. shit. “i was-“

“starring at my hands like a pathetic whore?”

you flinch, eyes widening at her cross language. you immediately sit up straighter, heart beating against your ribcage. “no, i was -“

“lying? again?”, lilia sharply cuts you off. “maybe i ought to teach you a lesson, hu?”

she rounds the divination table and comes to a stip before you, shifting your chair effortlessly with her foot so you’re facing her. she’s towering over your sitting form, eyes narrowed and brows furrowed.

“now, what to do with such a naughty girl”, she mutters. her eyes raking up and down your body, a small smirk tugging at her lips.

“lilia, i-“, you attempt to save yourself. but do you truly want to? no.

“bend over the table”, her voice is low and commanding, it sends a pleasant shiver down your spine.

“what?”, you ask — but like a puppet, do as asked. you bend over the divination table, it’s cold edge diggig into your stomach.

lilia studies your form for a few moments, before her hands cone up to gently caress your butt. “i think today you need a different lesson taught”, she mutters, more to herself than you.

“one in obedience”

god, you could have moaned on the spot and maybe you would have, had her hand not come crashing down on your butt.

a pained cry falls over your lips, but lilia immediately shushes you with a gentle rub on your butt and a kiss to your cheek.

„sh, sweetling“, she mumbles, her lips brushing against your cheek. her breath is hot on your blushing cheeks. „be a good pet for me and stay still“

a shiver runs down your body and you weakly nod. your grab the edges of the divination table, trying to ground yourself while lilia‘s hand continues to rub soothing circles over your butt.

„i‘m thinking 6 more spanks“, lilia says softly, a contemplative undertone in her voice. „one for each card placement you didn’t listen to me explain“

it seems — fair.

you can’t really argue with her logic, and you can’t exactly voice your approval, because her palm meets your butt again.

a mix between a moan and a pained groan leaves your lips and you close your eyes.

„is that alright, my darling?“

god, how you love her concern, her eagerness to punish you but still be nice. it makes you rub your legs together. „t‘is okay“, you weakly mutter, which earns you another kiss on the cheek.

„that‘s a good pet“, lilia praises soflty and spanks your butt again.

that was three. so four more to go. god, you can’t wait. you‘re already so wet, it’s embarrassing. what will lilia do with you, once she‘s done with your punishment? will she fuck you? or leave you high and dry?

another spank cuts of your thought process. it was harder than the others, but lilia immediately soothed you by gently caressing your behind.

„there you go again“, lilia huffs, her brows furrowed in irritation. „your little mind wandering off when you should be paying attention to me“

„sorr-”, your apology ends in a moan, as lilia‘s harsh palm connects a fifth time with your behind.

„sorry won’t cut it, darling“, she huffs firmly. „where does your mind wander off to, hm? tell me, pretty pet“

lilia rubs her hand in circles over your butt and when you hesitate to speak up, the sixth slap hits you — dangerously close to your center.

„i said tell me, brat“, her hand is in your hair and pulling your head back. it’s surprisingly firm but gentle — like everything lila does.

you decide you don’t want to try and push her limits. today, at least. who knows, maybe this little incident will happen again. for now, you‘ll enjoy what you‘re getting.

you clear your throat before you speak. „i‘m thinking about you fucking me“

it was a blunt, breathless statement. which earned you a low chuckle and your last spank — right on your core.

it was softer than the others, but it still made you flinch and an immediate moan slip out.

“oh do you now?”, lilia purrs and leans forward, her chest brushing against your back. her hand still rests on your core, gently rubbing circles over your clothes. “well that can be arranged, darling”

was this a dream? or were you finally winning in life?

lilia sneaks her arm around your waist and swiftly undoes the button of your pants, which makes you realise she’s definitely done this countless of times before.

“if you need me to stop or slow down at any time during this, you tell me, alright?”, lilia asks, no, demands of you.

you let out a shuddering breath and nod. “yes lilia”

a smirk tugs at lilia’s lips and she pulls down your pants, along with your soaked underwear. “such a good pet”, she mumbles, her eyes fixed on your glistening core.

“who knew a little spanking could get you this wet?”, she muses and slides two of her fingers through your wet folds, parting them with a soft sound.

a moan leaves your lips and lean your burning forehead against the cold divination table. “lilia please”, you moan pathetically.

a gentle chuckle rings out and lilia’s fingers brush against your clit, making you jolt. “so needy, my sweet pet”, lilia tuts. “but i suppose you deserve a reward after taking your punishment so well”

you don’t think anything has ever fet so deliciously good, as her veiny fingers breaching past your wet entrance. you’ve never been turned into a moaning mess so quickly, as with her fingers gently moving in and out of you.

lilia’s breath is heavy in your ear as she pumps two of her fingers in and out. her pace is steady, meant to reward and get you off.

“god- fuck”, you moan, which earns you a chuckle.

“such a good pet, hm?”, lilia murmurs into your ear and her other hand sneaks around your waist to start gently toying with your clit.

you moan loudly and arch into her touch. “yes- lilila please-“

lilia groans into your ear, which makes your brain even fussier than it already is. “that’s it, just like that”, lilia whispers and starts to pepper your neck with kisses.

“are you going to cum for me, pretty? yeah?”, she whispers, her fingers plunging in and out of you.

“gonna cum on my fingers?”, lilia continues, wanting to talk you through it. “that’s a good pet, so pretty obedient for me”

you whimper and whine, your hips erratically moving against her hand to feel her even deeper, needing to cum. “please, please, pretty please lilia”

“that’s mommy for you, darling”

that’s all you need. your stomach coils together, your back arches into her and you cry out. “oh god, oh- mommy!”

“there you go, good pet, good pet”, lilia whispers and helps you ride out your orgasm with languid strokes. she detaches her hand from your clit and slows down her fingers, before gently pulling out.

you whimper at the empty feeling, your fussy brain wanting more of her.

lilia softly helps you move from the table and gathers you in her arms. she sits down on the chair you’ve sat in before and pulls you on her lap.

the older witch hooks your legs over the arms of the chair and begins stroking your pussy again. her movements are slow and steady.

you whine and lean against her, your head wanting to nestle in her neck, but her disapproving tut stops you. “look at the table, my darling”, she orders, her hands slowly parting your folds again.

“you’re going to listen and watch as i explain the cards this time, alright?”

“yes mommy”, you say shakily, willing your hips not to thrust upwards into her touch. “m gonna listen”

“such a good pet”, lilia praises, a proud undertone in her voice.

she pulls out a random card of her tarot deck and holds it in front of you, so you can see it. meanwhile, she gingerly runs her fingers up and down your slit, rubs your clit every now and then, but other than that, doesn’t do anything.

she’s teasing you and you don’t know how much of the cards you’ll recognise with her maddening touches.

“what’s this card, darling?”, she asks and you can almost hear the smirk in her voice.

“the empress”, you choke out.

[the-travelling-witch]

𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐌𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄

summary: the types of kisses the demons like to give and receive

pairings: demon brothers :: barbatos x gn! reader

warnings: i totally never play favourites ever

obey me! masterlist || similar post: hold me close

𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐅𝐄𝐑

Lucifer takes great pride in being able to make your heart soar and head spin. And what better way to do that than stealing all air from you with a passionate kiss to the lips? But he also has his softer moments filled with only praise for you and he can’t stop himself from holding your jaw between his fingers and pressing a sweet peck to your forehead.

He is frankly a little awkward with receiving affection, being more used to facing either admiration, fear or annoyance. Yet, he cannot suppress the warmth spreading through his chest if you try to pull him away from work with a kiss to his temple and a hushed whisper to come to bed. Although Lucifer may not admit it, when you lean in to flutter a kiss to his closed eyelids it symbolises the ultimate trust to him.

𝐌𝐀𝐌𝐌𝐎𝐍

You already know, this snowy-haired tsundere will absolutely deny enjoying your affection. Pfft, you really think he needs some human’s love and care? (Yes, he does. And everyone knows it too.) Mammon would kill for a sliver of your tender affection, only to curl up on your lap and bask in your touch; he thrives with your attention on him and only him. Normally pretty chill and laid back, he’ll get really pissed if someone interrupts your one-on-one quality time.

Mammon, being the Avatar of Greed, obviously wants all of your kisses! Give him all your love and affection, human! There is, however, a comfort that comes with pressing a lingering kiss to the crown of your head while he has you wrapped up in his arms (and wings on occasion). Not only can he hide his glowing cheeks from you but he also feels like he’s protecting you and keeping you safe.

Your kisses? Again, he wants them all! Of course you want to kiss the Great Mammon, ya can’t seem to get enough of him, ain’t that right? Kiss the area peeking out from the collar of his shirt where his neck meets his collarbones, that’ll shut him right up. And lord help him if you ever kiss the marks on his chest when he’s in his demon form… Please pretend not to notice his reddened face or ears.

𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍

Leviathan is… freaking out, to put it lightly. His heart and mind are racing!! Not only do you want to hang out with him, no you also like like him. Him!! Not one of his stupid brothers!! Is he back in the Celestial Realm? It takes a while for him to show affection at all and not immediately self-deprecate afterwards if you don’t initiate it. But after enough reassurance from you, he learns that you really are okay with having him touch you. 

He’s still a shy baby though and something so bold as a kiss to your cheek or lips is way too high-level normie stuff (although he really wants to kiss you)!! The genius solution? Kissing the palm of your hand!! Whether you’re watching anime or you’re sitting in his lap watching him game, chances are Levi’s fiddling with your fingers anyway once his hands are free. (Jealous Levi is a different kind of monster though…)

If you ever kiss his cheek, Levi.exe will stop working; a kiss to the lips would take him straight out. Whether it’s just because you want to be cute or if it’s a little thank you or you’re excited he won a game, it doesn’t matter and you can basically see the blood rush to his face. If he’s ever in his demon form with you, consider giving some love to his non-human traits too; he’s very insecure about them and it’ll help him greatly.

𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐍

Satan is a true romantic at heart. Whether it’s all the romance novels he absorbed, if he’s just naturally like this or if he’s trying to cover his reputation as the Avatar of Wrath, he is a gentleman either way. And a gentleman kisses the beloved’s hand right? As cute as the basic is, Satan prefers pressing his lips to the inside of your wrist. It feels way more intimate and the trust you have in him, one of the most dangerous demons, to let him so close to a sensitive area of your body sends his mind reeling. 

Your every kiss will bring a fond smile to his face, so he’s not picky. That being said, there’s a special place in his heart for the times you lean in to place a kiss to the tip of his nose. It’s playful and endearing and the spark in your eyes so close to his captivates his whole being.

𝐀𝐒𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐔𝐒

When it comes to affection, Asmo might as well be the Avatar of Greed. Give him all of your love, he deserves it! In turn, he will smother you in as much attention as you can take. It’s no secret that Asmo is as shameless as a demon can be when it comes to sneaking a kiss here and there, and he’s not picky about the place. Whether it’s all over your face, up your thighs and to your hips or a cheeky little kiss to the back of your hand, Asmo is the demon to fulfil whatever your heart desires. 

If he were to pick his personal favourite though, it would be your spine. Not only is he delighted to see your bare back, he can also watch you shiver as the ghost of his fingers grazes your skin. For him, the space between his shoulder blades is very sensitive as it sits right where his wings sprout. So to see you expose such a vulnerable spot to him makes his heart beat faster and head spin if he thinks too long about it. You do funny things to him, you know that, darling?

Again, Asmo being Asmo, he welcomes all your kisses gladly, but not equally. Sure, connecting your lips is delightful and the way you sensually move to his neck makes him all giddy. Yet, in a very un-asmo-esque fashion, what excites him most are the most innocent of gestures. Case and point, the blush that settles on his perfect skin when you kiss the back of his hand. Do it after he finishes a manicure, when your hands are interlocked or just casually when you see him. This demon is all yours now.

𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐙𝐄𝐁𝐔𝐁

Beel loves you very much and he shows it pretty openly, no beating around the bush here. It might not be as refined as writing a poem or what the films always show but he shares his food with you, which is a dead giveaway about how serious he is. Consequently, he’s very concerned about your health and making sure you’re taking care of yourself. So if he presses soft kisses to your stomach when you cuddle after a meal, not only can he express his affection but he can also make sure you’re eating regularly.

Every time you kiss the corner of his lips, Beel’s absolutely stunned for a few seconds, eyes adorably wide as his brain catches up. Not only is he happy you are initiating affection but when you get so close he can pick up on your scent so effortlessly. Not to mention, the fact you didn’t quite meet his lips leaves him wanting more and there’s a high chance he pulls you back in for a real taste a second later. You know, suddenly he’s hungry again…

𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐏𝐇𝐄𝐆𝐎𝐑

Belphie might not be as over the top with his affections as some of his brothers but there’s no doubt to be had that he is absolutely smitten with you. To outsiders it might not be as obvious but to those who know him, it’s clear as day, really. The way he’s trying to hide his blush, subtly show off or try to stay awake for you really gives him away. Plus, he’ll put up with any of your nonsense and will also put in the effort to care about and for you.

On that note, finding you two together isn’t always as easy though because Belphie will steal you away for a nap at any given time of day. No matter how long you’ve been in the Devildom already, Belphie is still insistent that he has to make up for lost time.

Whether you’re just his favourite pillow or if you are wrapped up in his arms, he wants to be as close to you as possible for a good night’s (or day’s) sleep. Whatever the case, the youngest is a lot more likely to press a half-asleep kiss to whatever part of skin he can reach while curled up next to you. If he could choose one, it would have to be kissing your neck while holding you from behind. Not only does he get to hear your pulse, he can also get a rise out of his brothers if he accidentally happens to bite down just a little…

Good thing Belphie is lying down most of the time because whenever you kiss his forehead, his knees go weak. Your hand gently pushing his hair out of his face before your lips flutter against his skin in the softest of touches could send him straight back to dreamland with how much comfort it provides. It doesn’t even matter when you do it. Whether it’s to wake him up, give him a good night’s kiss or to display how proud you are and how much you love him, Belphie could never get enough of your kisses. 

𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐒

Barbatos lives to serve and there’s nobody he likes to please more than you. Life can get tough, especially since you do so much for the people around you, so Barbatos would love nothing more than to be a place of comfort for you. Besides making tea for you and listening intently to what troubles you, Barbatos would also like to alleviate some of the physical strains. And what would be better suited for that than a massage provided by your partner?

As skilled fingers knead away the knots and stress of your everyday life, Barbatos will sneak in a few affections just for you. Whether it’s the small of your back, your shoulder blades or the back of your neck, expect them to be lavished in the gentlest attention as you melt into his touch. But your demon is always very keen on pressing soft kisses along the skin of your shoulders, from the moment he slips your clothes off for the massage to the moment he helps adjust them again. Also, if you ever find yourself in a situation where Barbatos has some free time to step away from his job for a while and just be himself, he’ll take every chance he gets to slip the collar of your top out of the way and indulge a little.

There’s no doubt that you are Barbatos’ favourite way to wind down. Just being with you recharges his energy fully and reminds him he’s more than just his job. That’s why it means so much to him when you carefully work off his gloves like he’s a delicate porcelain cup and place a lingering kiss to each pad of his fingers. The first time you do it, he’s very much taken by surprise but after recovering from his shock he’s already fond of the gesture. Even after he slips his gloves back on, he feels as if your touch still tingles underneath the material, the urge to feel your skin on his again burning bright under his composed façade. 

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[martian-astro10]

I really don't understand why so many astrologers have now started saying that d9 is more important than d1, cuz that is simply not true. If there are signs of something happening in d1, but not in d9, it has 80% chance of happening. If it's not in d1 but in d9 then, 40%, if in both then 100%. That's why I tend to give positive interpretations to someone if their d1 is good even if d9 is fucked. D9 is used for deeper analysis. That's why planets in vargottama are considered to be so important. If a person has Saturn in Gemini in d1 and in Capricorn in d9, that person will behave like someone with Saturn in Gemini, even after marriage, even after 27 years of age. If you have 7th lord in 11th house in Sagittarius aspected by Jupiter, you WILL have a good married life even if 7th lord is in 6th in d9, you guys may have fights that can turn very very serious, but you'll end up getting back together, happier than ever. It's like never ending arguments but they only bring you closer, I know that it doesn't sound too good but it is what it is. That's why malefic planets occupying 1st and 7th house in BOTH d1 AND d9 is often a sign that a person shouldn't get married. For ex- Rahu/ketu in 1/7, Jupiter in 7, Saturn in 1/7, mars opposite Saturn, Venus in 6th, mercury or mars in 7th, sun in 4th, sun conjunct Venus, these are some indicators, if I see a person having either one of these in both the charts, I tell them not to marry, especially if it's a woman. Cuz it's like, both the charts are fucked, you know? That's why even in paid readings for d9 I look at Both d1 and d9, divisional charts shouldn't be analysed alone. I think I've said this before, but I'll say it again. D1 needs to be extremely strong, it symbolises your will, your inner strength, if that is strong then you can handle any obstacle that comes your way. That's also why so many people with Jupiter in Capricorn in d1, tend to suffer so much, it's like the god of luck himself, has turned it's back, so you face difficulties in all areas of life. That's why, if you have a debilitated Jupiter, you should really really follow all the remedies. He's easy to please and hard to anger.