#how to develop raw land

[xiaprint]

newlyweds

caleb x femreader | post wayward wonderland, marathon sex | minors dni

his muscles ache something serious, caleb is convinced that he’s never exerted himself so much before this. since he was old enough to purchase his own gym membership, he’s been consistent in moving his body and hitting pr lifts at the gym. he’s an active guy and that stamina is something he built over the course of years yet he’s sweating. he’s busting a sweat the longer he goes, fucking you into the mattress like it’s his one sole purpose on this earth. sometimes he believes that it is.

he couldn’t help it. it was inevitable after watching you twirl in the big wedding dress that was prepared, after sliding that ring down your knuckle. dreams always felt so unattainable to caleb because he had a tendency to go big or go home. it was that ambition that helped him pass aviation school with flying colors. still, he never thought it would get him to where he was at now.

nothing melted his brain quite like this. from the day his mind strayed from innocence and developed into something greater, from the moment he felt that nauseating feeling of love and desire— this is what he wanted. you were the picture of beauty without trying, his fantasy wrapped in pure white and lace and diamonds.

the echoing replay of your voice accepting his vow, responding to his deepest wishes is what made him cum the first round. it was embarrassingly fast, only a few minutes after he managed to get you onto the bed with your back sinking in the plaid duvet. he got a few good thrusts in before he hastily pulled out, painting your lower tummy in his seed after hurriedly pushing the fabric of your dress up to your ribs. surely not his proudest moment but he knew you’d cut him the slack.

second time around wasn’t all that impressive either, cock somehow still so hard and red. blaming it on how overwhelmed he was with the meaningful day was the safest bet. he fucked you slow, using every muscle he’s spent his free time fine tuning to give you what he’s always wanted you to feel. spilling his love into you, pumping you snug and full.

“caleb,” you breathe his name, barely audible yet he’d always catch it. he came when you called, it was a sixth sense to him that he unlocked when you were just kids and needed more help than you’d care to admit. it was his favorite sound and he lifts his head up not even a second later to catch sight of your beautiful eyes. “we can take a break, don’t hurt yourself.”

god, he almost scoffed right in your face. this was his confession to you even if he had already poured his guts out time and time again. this was his true seal of love, passion, lust. he was doing what a good husband should by taking care of his lady and putting her to sleep on her happiest day. he was making you feel special and the thought of tapping out just because he was breaking a little bit of a sweat? ridiculous.

“i’m making love to you,” he whispers with a simple, weak shake of his head. that familiar red hue blooms along the tips of his ears, coats his neck and shoulders. he’s bare aside from his signature chain, now paired with his wedding band. he finds your hand, hovered over you, watching with hazy purple eyes as a drop of his sweat lands on your collarbone. he kept you in your wedding dress and veil, wanted to savor the sight some more.

“let me make love to my wife, huh? doing what i said i would. you need to feel how much i love you.”

it was to be expected. caleb was headstrong, went hard for the things he cared about. there was no sense in arguing against him when he got like this, even if he’s panting hot along the curve of your neck and even if his hips are stuttering with every sloppy thrust.

the bed set below was a goner— beyond repair with all of the cum and juice smeared on it from the various positions caleb squeezed you into. it was raw and real, the kind of sex that made your eyes roll into the back of your head and toes curl up so hard that they nearly cramp. springs creak with how deep he hauls his hips into you, groans freely leaving his swollen lips because he’s taking what he’s wanted all of his life.

“get to do this to you every single night,” he finds your ear, planting a gentle kiss to your lobe as his tip probes your cervix. it almost hurts but your legs wrap around him nonetheless, heeled shoe digging into his lower back. “i get to make you cry like this for the rest of my life. you’re mine to kiss and hold and fuck forever.”

the walls of the room feel as though they’re closing in with every word, the realization that he is officially bound to you making you cum another round. white cream coats his dick and he lets out a hiss at how visible your approval is, how your body is talking back to him and letting him see for himself just how happy you are.

“yeah, me too, honey,” his lips plant gentle kisses along your jaw to your chin, sweet and soft the same way it has been and always will be. “don’t gotta say a word, just breathe. i know. i’m happy too.”

[ateezscupid]

─── FEB FILTH FEST: I Wanna Be Yours - AGE GAP ♡

SUMMARY / You started to develop a crush on your college professor, but had to distance yourself from him when it turned into more than a silly "crush."

warnings ✩ SMUT, FLUFF, DOM/SUB dynamics, ANGST in the beginning, older!san (35), younger!reader (24), age gap, cliche student x teacher trope, soft dom!san, sub!reader, unprotected sex, vanilla vanilla vanilla, public sex? (nobody sees them but they're in a library), oral (f), praise, size kink, san is basically a gentle giant

word count ✩ 3,89k

tags ✩ @desirehorizon @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna @starillusion13 @mingitheskzstan @bbdeongi @dawn-iscozy @xh01bri @mallielovssyou @clxssy1997 @soreberry @nopension @kitten4sannie @faeriehwas @lustfxq @ashistrashhhhhh @hwallazia

ATEEZ MASTERLIST / REQUEST / FEB FILTH FEST

"Y/N? You're my highest ranking student. Do you know the answer?" San's voice cut through the dense silence of the classroom, his gaze landing on you. You felt your cheeks redden as all eyes turned to you. The intensity of his stare made your heart race, and you realized you hadn't heard the question. Panic set in, but you took a deep breath and hoped for the best.

"Um," you blink and sit up straight. "I-I wasn't--I wasn't paying attention." The words tumble out, and you can feel the heat spread from your cheeks to your neck. San's gaze lingers for a moment before he nods and moves on to the next student. You sigh with relief, dropping your eyes to your notebook.

You were only in your 20s, while San was well into his 30s so close to being considered middle aged. Even though, some people consider 35 middle aged, so it honestly didn't matter to you.

Every time you would do as little as fantasize having a life with him, you knew it would never happen. Why would he even date someone that much younger than him? And, even if by some miracle he did, you were his student. It was wrong, unprofessional, and you weren't ready for any rumors to start flying. Plus, he had his career to think about, and you had your future. You had to maintain a respectful distance.

So, one random day, you decided to distance yourself from him and you went as far as to drop out of his class. You switched your major, hoping that would help ease the ache in your heart, but it didn't. San's influence lingered everywhere, in the corridors where you heard his laugh echo, in the library where you had studied together, in the cafeteria where you had shared a table, and even in the quiet solitude of your dorm room where you had dreamed of a life beyond the confines of academia.

And here you were, eating by yourself in the empty library café, surrounded by the ghosts of your past happiness. The scent of stale coffee and dusty books filled your nose, a stark contrast to the fresh scent of San's aftershave that had once made your heart flutter. You pushed the textbook away, unable to focus on the words that blurred before your eyes.

"Y/N?" San's voice called out from behind you, and your heart skipped a beat. You hadn't seen him since the day you dropped his class, and now here he was, standing in the library café, looking more handsome than ever in his tweed jacket and glasses.

"P-Professor-?" you stutter, your voice shaking slightly. You swivel in your chair, trying to compose yourself, but your heart won't cooperate.

"I've been meaning to talk to you but it feels like you're…avoiding me?" San's brow furrowed with genuine concern. His eyes searched yours, looking for an explanation. You felt your throat tighten, unsure of what to say. The truth felt too raw, too embarrassing to admit.

"It's just…I needed to focus on my studies, Professor," you managed to say, hoping the lie wasn't too transparent. "Switching majors has been a bit overwhelming."

"Then why not stay with me?" San asked, his voice gentle but firm. "You had a knack for my class, and I was looking forward to seeing how far you'd go."

"I-It was something personal…" you murmured, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. The lie tasted bitter on your tongue, but you knew you had to protect him and yourself from the mess your feelings could create. San took a step closer, his gaze never leaving yours.

He sits across from you, his eyes filled with curiosity and a hint of confusion. "Is everything okay?" he asks, his voice laced with care. You nod, trying to keep your composure, but his closeness is too much to handle. You can feel the warmth emanating from his body, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

"I can't say, it's…" You stop mid-sentence, the words lodging in your throat. San's eyes searched yours, and for a moment, you thought he might see the truth. But instead, he offered a small, understanding smile.

"You can tell me anything." San's hand reached out and placed itself gently on top of yours, his thumb tracing comforting circles. His touch sent a jolt of electricity through you, and you had to resist the urge to pull away.

"…I-It's you." The words slipped out before you could stop them, and you felt your cheeks flush even hotter.

San's hand stilled on yours, and he looked surprised, then a soft smile spread across his face. "What do you mean, 'it's me'?" he asked, his voice gentle.

"I mean… I had a crush on you," you blurted out, feeling your heart pound in your chest. The words hung in the air like a confession in a quiet church, and you waited for his reaction, bracing yourself for the worst. "Well, I thought it was a crush until it got…worse."

San's expression grew serious, his smile fading slightly. He removed his hand from yours and leaned back in his chair, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Worse?" he repeated.

"I know it's inappropriate and wrong," you rushed to explain, your voice barely a whisper. "But I couldn't help it. I had to get away, so I switched majors. I'm sorry if I disappointed you or made things awkward."

San leaned in, his eyes locking onto yours, and for a moment, the world around you faded into the background. "Y/N, it's not awkward. It's…unexpected," he said, his voice filled with a hint of something you hadn't heard before—vulnerability. "But it's not unwelcome."

Your heart stuttered in your chest, and you felt your eyes widen. "What do you mean?"

San took a deep breath, his gaze never leaving yours. "I mean that I've noticed the way you look at me, the way you hang on my every word. And I've felt something too." His voice was low, almost a murmur, as if he was sharing a secret.

The confession hit you like a sledgehammer, leaving you momentarily speechless. You stared at him, trying to process what he had just said. Could it be possible that he felt the same way?

"I've noticed it too, Y/N," San continued, his voice soft and measured. "But I never acted on it because I knew it would be wrong. I've always respected my students' boundaries, and I respect you more than anyone."

"San, please." You whispered his name, the weight of the situation pressing down on you. "I don't care if I'm your student."

He leaned back again, his gaze dropping to the table. "But I do." His voice was firm, yet tinged with sadness. "It's not just about us. There's the university policy, our careers, and-"

"I've literally fantasized about you." The words slipped out before you could stop them, and you felt the air thicken around you. San's eyes widened for a fraction of a second before his expression softened.

"Y/N," he began, his voice low and careful. "You know I care about you. You're an incredible student, and as your teacher, it's my job to support and guide you. But these feelings… They're complicated."

"Do you or do you not like me back?" You blurted out, unable to contain your emotions any longer. The question hung in the air, a silent plea for him to confirm what you hoped was true.

San's gaze remained on you, his eyes searching yours. "I do," he admitted, his voice a mere whisper. "But we can't let it affect our professional relationship."

"Then it won't, but please. I don't care if I have to date you in private." You looked at him with hopeful eyes, desperate for some kind of connection.

San sighed heavily, his eyes never leaving yours. "You don't understand, Y/N. It's not that simple."

You sigh and nod, standing up and grabbing your bag. "I understand," you say, trying to sound firm despite the shakiness in your voice.

He reached across the table and grabbed your arm, his grip firm but gentle. "Please, sit." His eyes searched yours, and you felt the weight of his gaze. You sat back down, your heart racing.

You snatch your arm away and walk around the table so you were face-to-face with him, looking into his eyes. "You don't have to say it," you whispered, your voice shaking with emotion. "Y-You want to stay professional so if all I need to do is stay away from you then I will-"

You were interrupted by San's hand, which he placed on your cheek and before you knew it, he was kissing you. It was a gentle kiss, but filled with so much passion and longing that it stole your breath away. Your eyes closed instinctively, and you melted into the kiss, your arms wrapping around his neck. The world outside the library faded into a distant memory, and for a moment, all that mattered was the feeling of his lips against yours.

He pulled away for only a moment, his eyes searching your face, looking for permission to continue. You nodded, your eyes brimming with unshed tears of joy. San leaned back in, his lips meeting yours again in a kiss that spoke of a longing that had been simmering beneath the surface for so long.

The kiss grew more intense, and you felt your knees tremble. It was everything you had ever dreamed of, and the reality was so much better than any fantasy. His hands moved to the small of your back, pulling you closer, and you felt the warmth of his body against yours. The scent of his cologne, something you had secretly come to adore, filled your senses, and you knew you never wanted to be anywhere else.

You tugged at his shirt, pulling him closer, feeling his hands slide down to your waist as the kiss deepened. His fingers traced the curves of your body, sending sparks of pleasure through every nerve. San's eyes searched yours, and you knew he was just as lost in the moment as you were.

"Sir," you murmured, your voice muffled by his shirt. "W-We're still in the library-"

"And it's empty, right? No one's around," San murmured against your lips, his breath warm and comforting. He took another step closer, his body now pressed against yours, leaving no room for doubt or fear. You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest so hard it felt like it might just burst.

He lifted you up without effort, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, and carried you over to a quiet, secluded corner of the library. The soft cushions of an old armchair were a welcome relief as he set you down, his hands never leaving your body. San's gaze was filled with desire, yet tinged with caution.

He started kissing your neck, his hands moving down your body before grabbing your skirt and lifting it. You felt the cold chair against your bare skin and shivered from the excitement. You didn't know what you were doing, but you knew you wanted him.

San's hand slid up your thigh, his thumb brushing against the lace of your panties. You gasped, your eyes snapping open. The reality of the situation hit you like a cold shower. "W-What are we doing?" You whispered, your voice trembling.

He pulled back, his gaze searching yours. "I couldn't help myself. If we do this," he said, his voice hoarse with desire, "we can't take it back."

You bit your bottom lip, contemplating his words. Your mind raced with the consequences, but your body craved his touch. "I know," you murmured, nodding slightly. "But I don't want to take it back."

San studied your face, his eyes filled with a mix of want and hesitation. Finally, with a low groan, he leaned in and claimed your mouth again, his hand moving to cup your breast through your shirt. You arched into the touch, a soft moan escaping you. His fingers deftly unhooked your bra, and his hand moved to caress the soft skin, his thumb flicking over your nipple. The sensation was overwhelming, and you felt a warm wetness spread between your legs.

You reached your hand as far as you could, tugging at his belt and the buttons of his pants. San's hand moved from your waist to your wrist, stopping you gently. He pulled away from the kiss, his breath ragged. "Let me."

He knelt before you, his eyes never leaving yours as he pushed your skirt higher and slid your panties aside. His touch was featherlight, sending waves of pleasure through your body as he kissed and licked at your inner thighs. You whimpered, the anticipation driving you wild.

Finally, his mouth found your center, and you gasped as he took you in. San's tongue danced over your sensitive flesh, tasting and teasing you until you thought you would lose your mind. Your hands gripped the armrests of the chair, knuckles white from the effort of not pushing him away.

"O-Oh my god, San-" you breathed his name, your eyes rolling back in pleasure. You felt your core clench around nothing, and the sensation was like nothing you had ever experienced before. His movements grew more deliberate, and you could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge.

His hands caressing your thighs, his eyes remained locked on yours, watching the play of emotions across your face as he worked his magic. You squirmed, unable to hold back the moans that bubbled up from deep within your chest. The warmth of his breath and the flick of his tongue against your most sensitive spot had you teetering on the edge of a cliff, desperately craving release.

"Mmmh!" you gasped as San's tongue worked its way inside of you, stroking you with the perfect amount of pressure and speed. Your legs tightened around him, and you threw your head back, unable to control the sounds escaping your mouth. The pleasure was unlike anything you had ever felt, and you knew you were close to climaxing.

"I-I'm close," you tug at his hair, making sure to avoid his glasses. "Right there, fuck!" You didn't know how to be quiet, the pleasure was too intense. San's eyes flashed with something primal and he groaned against your pussy, the vibrations making you shiver.

With a final flick of his tongue and a suck on your clit, you felt your orgasm crash over you like a wave, your body convulsing as you rode the peak. You clung to the chair, your nails digging into the fabric as the pleasure washed over you in waves. San didn't stop, instead, he kept licking and kissing until you were panting and begging for mercy.

"Please," you gasped, your voice hoarse. "I can't-"

"One more," San murmured, his eyes dark with desire as he slid a finger inside of you, curling it in a way that made your eyes roll back in your head. The sensation was exquisite, and you could feel yourself climbing again, your muscles tightening around his digit. He watched you, his eyes hooded and focused, as he brought you closer to the brink once more.

With a final, deep thrust of his finger, you came again, your body shaking and quivering as the orgasm ripped through you. San sat back on his haunches, his face flushed with arousal as he took in the sight of you, sprawled out on the chair, panting and glowing.

"W-Where'd you learn to do-" you pause, pointing below. "…That…"

San's eyes crinkled at the corners with a hint of amusement. "Sweetie, I'm ten years older than you." he said, his voice a low rumble that sent a fresh wave of heat through your core. "I've had time to learn a few things." He leaned in, kissing you gently before sitting up.

He undoes his tie with swift, practiced movements, his eyes never leaving yours. "You're so beautiful," he whispers, his voice thick with need. You feel your heart race faster, his words a sweet aphrodisiac.

"Forget what I said earlier about staying professional." he almost growled, fiddling with his belt now. "I could give you everything you need."

You nodded, feeling your own need pulsing through your veins. "But we should be quick," you managed to say, though your voice was thick with lust. "Someone could come in."

"Then you're going to have to stay quiet," San warned with a smoldering look, his eyes dark with desire. He stood up, his pants now unbuttoned, revealing his erection that strained against the fabric of his boxers. You felt your mouth go dry as you stared at him, unable to believe that this was really happening.

He pushed his boxers down just enough for his cock to come out, and you felt your mouth water at the sight of him. San was well endowed, and the way his cock stood proudly before you was incredibly arousing. He stepped closer, and you reached out tentatively to touch him.

Your hand wrapped around his shaft, and he sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes never leaving yours. "You're so big," you murmured, your voice filled with wonder. "And so…strong."

San's hand covered yours, guiding you in a gentle stroking motion. "Yeah," he said, his voice strained. "But I'll be gentle."

You nodded, feeling a thrill of excitement at his words. He stepped closer, his cock now brushing against your stomach, leaving a trail of wetness. He moves it toward your entrance, and you grip the armrests of the chair tightly, bracing yourself.

"Ready?" San asked, his voice a low growl. You nodded, unable to speak as he pushed into you slowly, filling you up inch by inch. You felt a slight burn, but it was overshadowed by the overwhelming feeling of fullness. He was so much larger than anyone you've been with before, and it was a bit terrifying but mostly exhilarating.

He paused, giving you a moment to adjust before pulling out slightly and pushing back in. You let out a soft whimper, and he leaned in to kiss you again, his hand moving to cup your cheek. The gentle gesture helped to ease the tension in your body, and you started to relax into the sensation.

"You feel amazing." San whispered against your lips, his eyes searching yours as he began to move his hips in a slow, deliberate rhythm. You nodded, biting your bottom lip to keep from crying out as he filled you completely. His movements grew stronger, each thrust sending waves of pleasure rippling through your body.

The sound of the chair creaking under the weight of your passion filled the quiet library, the only other noise the muffled sounds of your breathing and the occasional soft whine that slipped from your mouth. San's grip on your hips tightened, his pace increasing as he lost himself in the moment.

"F-Fuck-" you try your best to stay quiet, but it's getting increasingly difficult as San's hips piston into you. The chair squeaks underneath you, and the thought of getting caught is almost too much to handle. You lean back, arching your back, giving him deeper access. San's eyes never leave yours, his strokes becoming more and more demanding as he chases his own release.

He leaned forward, his hands sliding up to cup your breasts, his thumbs rolling over your nipples. The added sensation was too much, and you bit back a moan as your orgasm began to build once more. San's eyes widened at the sight of you, lost in pleasure, and he picked up the pace, his strokes becoming more urgent.

"Fuck, I love you," you murmur, the words slipping out unbidden. San's eyes flash with something akin to surprise, and then his expression softens.

"I love you too, Y/N," he says, his voice thick with emotion. His thrusts become more urgent, his eyes never leaving yours as he drives you closer to the edge. You feel your body tightening around him, and you know you're about to come again.

"I-I can't-" you whimpered, your voice strained as your second orgasm built up. "Too much-" San's eyes never left yours, his movements becoming more erratic as he felt your muscles tighten around him. You felt his cock swell inside you, and he groaned against your neck.

With one final, deep thrust, San came, his warmth filling you completely. He stilled, his breaths coming out in harsh gasps. You felt your own climax peak and crash over you, your body quivering in his arms. For a moment, there was only the sound of your ragged breathing and the beating of your hearts.

San leaned in and kissed you again, this time more tenderly. "I'm sorry," he murmured against your lips. "I didn't mean to go that far. I really just…couldn't help myself."

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. "It's okay," you whispered, your voice still shaky. "I didn't either."

"You're, uh, on birth control right?" San's voice was filled with concern, breaking the momentary silence.

The reality of the situation washed over you, and you nodded. "Yes, I am."

San let out a sigh of relief, his body relaxing slightly as he pulled out of you. You felt the warmth of him leave you and immediately missed the connection. He bent down and kissed you softly before helping you to stand, adjusting your clothing with gentle hands.

"You, um, really love me?" San's voice was a mix of shock and hope. He held you at arm's length, his eyes searching yours for any hint of doubt. The question was a knife to your heart, but you couldn't lie, not now.

"Yeah," you whispered, the truth finally out in the open. "I've been trying to ignore it, but I can't anymore."

San's eyes searched yours for a moment before he sighed happily. "You're adorable." He kissed you again, a smile playing on his lips. "But we have to be careful." He pulled away, looking around the library, reminding you of the precarious situation you were in.

"Whatever, old guy." You playfully punched his arm, trying to lighten the mood. San chuckled, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

[missdynamighttt]

head empty, thoughts full of secretary! reader trying to seduce boss! katsuki with all kinds of tactics.

it had started as a harmless crush. at least, that’s what you told yourself when you first landed the position as katsuki bakugo’s personal secretary.

you’d taken the job expecting the usual: long hours, impossible demands, and a hot boss matching with a fiery temper. what you hadn’t expected was how quickly you’d develop a maddening crush on him.

the man was the whole package— infuriatingly good-looking, sharp as a blade, and unapologetically confident. he had a way of dominating any room he walked into, and you found yourself daydreaming about him far more often than was appropriate.

there’s just something about him that’s just... irresistible. maybe it’s the way his tailored suits hug his broad frame, flexing his muscles no corporate worker should have.

or maybe its the way he looks at you, not with false pleasantries or the cool look of someone trying to be liked. it was a raw, unapologetic gaze (glare), one that made your heart race in ways you’d never expected.

fuck, you didn't want to be just his secretary—you were determined to be something more.

so, you began with the basics. a tighter pencil skirt here, hugging your curves just enough to make his eyes linger when you walked by. a blouse with a slightly lower neckline there, where one extra button undone gave just a teasing hint of skin.

every time you walked past his desk, he’d have to force himself to look away from the sway of your hips. every time you bent over to sign a document, displaying your perfect ass, he’d swallow and his jaw would clench.

when you walked in to drop some paperwork on his desk, his eyes lingered just a second too long on your chest before he coughed and barked, “didn’t i tell you to knock?!”

"the door was already open!" you smiled as you walked out of his office, feeling his eyes on your ass. a small victory, but you’d take it.

katsuki was a coffee fiend, obviously. strong, black, and bitter— no sugar or nonsense too, just like his personality. his day didn’t properly start until a steaming cup of coffee was in his hand, the aroma practically fueling his sharp focus and no-nonsense demeanor.

so you started getting coffee for him too, along with a handwritten note with his coffee cup that said: “for the most handsome boss ever!! xoxo, your prettiest secretary,”, before signing your name on it and sliding it onto his desk, meeting his glare.

“you tryna butter me up or somethin’?”

“of course not! just simply stating facts, boss.”

his ears turned red, but he didn’t answer as he took a sip of the coffee. and when you looked at his drawer one day, you saw he saved all the notes you gave him. you counted that as another win.

you “accidentally” scheduled a late-night meeting that required you both to stay in the office after hours. by the time the clock struck 9, the dim glow of his desk lamp was the only light in the room, casting sharp shadows across his sharp jawline.

you took a seat across from him, pretending to review a document, uncrossing your legs deliberately slowly. his eyes flicked to the movement before snapping back to his paperwork, his jaw tightening.

as the silence stretched on, you made your move. leaning back slightly in your chair, you let the tip of your heel trail slowly up the leg of his slacks, starting at the ankle and dragging upward, your movements deliberate and teasing.

katsuki froze, his pen stilling mid-signature as his sharp red gaze shot up to meet yours, the faintest flush creeping up his cheek. “what the hell are you doin'?”

“i think we should go to dinner,” you tilted your head with a playful grin.

his brow twitched, his expression a mixture of disbelief and irritation. “the hell kinda way is this to ask someone out?”

“its efficient,” you said, keeping your tone light as the tip of your heel slides up and down his ankle. “plus, i'm getting tired of you waiting to ask me. and let’s be honest— you’ve been staring at me long enough to know you’re interested. at least a little bit.”

for a moment, he just stared at you, the silence stretching as his jaw clenched and unclenched. then, katsuki let out a low, gruff chuckle, a sound you didn't know you needed to hear.

“you’ve got some nerve, don’t you?” he muttered, leaning back in his chair as a smirk tugged at his lips. “fine. dinner.”

he huffs, pointing a finger at you. “but don’t think this means you’re gettin’ any special treatment outta work. and if you're late, i'll make you do fuckin' inventory for the next damn month.”

“wouldn’t dream of it,” you smiled, already planning what to wear.

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ posting a little faster because i made some of these while working on older bro's bsf fic!! hope you enjoyed, tempted to make a part two <3

[wonderjanga]

Pretty Kitty

Billy sometimes transforms into a tiger. There’s are a multitude of reasons for this like how Billy likes to hang out with Tawny, but sometimes that isn’t possible so he’ll transform.

Zookeeper: “Sorry, kiddo. I can’t let you into Mr. Tawny’s enclosure even if he is a gentleman.”

Billy: “But-”

Zookeeper: “No buts! It’s protocol and I really don’t want to lose my job.”

Billy: *frowns before running away to an alley*

Zookeeper: “Wait! You can still see him! You just won’t be in the enclosure-” *is cut off by the sound of lightning* “Shoot, is it gonna storm?”

Marvel: *comes out of the alley as a tiger* (his stripes are shaped like lightning bolts)

Zookeeper: “Holy shoot!” *backs up away from the tiger*

Marvel: *makes a running jump into the enclosure, landing on top of Tawny*

Zookeeper: “Tawny! No!” *thinks they’re going to fight*

Tawny: “Ah. Billy? What are you doing as a tiger?” *pats his head before standing up to brush his suit off*

They had tea together with Billy struggling a bit because he’s a tiger, not an anthropomorphic tiger like Tawny. Tawny resolved to just let him lick it out of the cup but promised Billy he’d teach the boy how to do it properly later. Billy also just takes this form whenever he wants to feel closer to Tawny because he can’t exactly carry a stuffed animal around while looking like a grown man.

Don’t worry though, he also takes this form to be annoying.

Junior and Mary: *struggling and flailing* “GET OFF?!”

Marvel: *sleeping in tiger form on them*

Dudley: *nearby laughing at them*

Marvel: *moves his tail to trip Dudley, floats up and drags the old man under him with the other two before letting himself plop back down on the three*

That’s just his family though. He sometimes just likes being in the form because lounging around in it is better than lounging around as a human. This has lead to the tiger version of him developing an interesting relationship with Robin #5.

Marvel: *in tiger form, lounging on one of the couches in a rec room*

Robin!Damian: *appears out of nowhere, standing next to the couch and holds out a plate of meat* “I have brought you the finest venison I could procure. I shall give it to you if let me… rub your stomach.”

Marvel: *has no qualms eating raw meat so he eats it*

Robin!Damian: *puts the plate down when Billy’s done before putting both hands on Marvel’s furry stomach and rubbing it*

Robin #5 continued to bring him treats and stuff in exchange for pets or rubs. It got to a point where he just let the Robin pet him because he felt he was taking advantage of him.

Robin!Damian: *zetas in with Bruce and walks away as soon as he can*

Marvel: *in tiger form, sunbathing near one of the windows that has sun shining through it*

Robin!Damian: *walks over and lets himself fall face first onto Marvel’s furry stomach*

This eventually came to a head.

Marvel: *chilling, staring at Damian*

Robin!Damian: *five inches away from his tiger face also staring*

Batman: *watching this go down*

Marvel: *shapeshifts his stripes to form a batlogo on his face like Batcow*

Robin!Damian: *gasps* “Come home with me.”

Batman: “Robin, you can’t take the tiger home.”

Robin!Damian: “Why not? Father, he is clearly well trained and educated enough. Taking care of him would hardly be difficult.”

Batman: “Still no. We don’t even know whose tiger that is. He just appeared in the Watchtower one day.”

Damian later got Jason to come to the Watchtower with him and help him steal the tiger, only the tiger was gone.

Marvel: *chilling on the couch of one of the rec rooms*

Robin!Damian: “Captain. Have you seen a tiger around here?”

Marvel: “Which tiger? The one with the lightning bolt stripes or the one with green tuxedo?”

Robin!Damian: “The lightning bolt one, but what do you mean by green tuxedo?”

Marvel: “Nothing. Don’t worry about it. He isn’t here right now. The tiger went home. Why are you asking about him?”

Red Hood: “He wants to take the tiger home to the Batcave.”

Marvel: “Oh… Cool! I’ll let him know.”

Robin!Damian: “You know the tiger?”

Marvel: “Yup!”

Red Hood: “Cap, is he your tiger?”

Marvel: “No? He’s kinda not really my friend.”

Robin!Damian: “Interesting…”

Eventually tiger Marvel did go over to the Batcave. After the general freaking out over a tiger, they realized he wasn’t some wild animal that would snap at a moments notice. They gave him lots of meat. Billy loved it.

[sinnerinwonderland]

The Archive Of Us.

› Pairing: Jannik Sinner x Female Reader.

› Summary: He captures her in golden stillness. She shows him he carries light too.

› Word Count: 1.4k.

The windows in Jannik’s Monte Carlo apartment were always open.

Partly because the sea breeze made the linen curtains dance in the most cinematic way, and partly because she had once said that the air smelled fresh when they were — like salt and lemon rinds. But mostly because the golden hour lingered just right in the living room, coating her in the kind of light he could never replicate, only capture.

She knew he liked his cameras, sometimes pointing his phone at her while she cooked or laughed at her own jokes. But she didn’t know the extent of it, not really. Not about the folder.

‘Y/N – Study in Light’, it read, tucked away on his iPad — home of dozens of short clips, photos, Polaroids scanned in, raw iPhone shots, and even a few rolls of 35mm films he got developed on quiet afternoons when he had no matches and no one waiting.

There was one where she was in the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of red wine, barefoot, hair still damp from a late shower, soft jazz playing from the vintage speaker making the moment feel suspended — he hadn’t told her he was watching.

He wrote beneath it:

‘There is something devastating about the way she exists in silence, like a cathedral standing proud with no need for visitors. A private altar. A holy thing.’

In another, she was reading by the terrace, knees drawn to her chest, a borrowed sweatshirt of his engulfing her frame. The sunset hit the curve of her cheek like a kiss he hadn’t yet placed. He added:

‘Every evening, the light finds her first. I understand jealousy in the way it clings to her lashes while I sit there, too afraid to disturb her.’

He never meant for her to see it.

Those weren’t made for Instagram, much less for the tennis world’s curated version of intimacy — it was his cathedral, his archive of the way she looked when she thought she was alone, when she wasn’t trying — when she was simply being.

There were shots of her hands kneading dough for pasta, laughing when flour exploded over her nose. A slow motion clip of her spinning once to a music he left playing, unaware he was holding the camera — breath caught in the moment.

A picture of her sleeping on the couch, a book sliding off her chest, his sweatshirt slouched over her shoulder like it, too, didn’t want to let go.

He documented her like a man who feared forgetting — like someone who once lost something important, and decided that this time, he’d memorize everything.

That night, she started to notice it — the way he looked at her, how he leaned in slightly when she talked about nothing in particular, hand always lingering on her back in that gentle manner, like he was making sure she was real.

“How was training?” she asked softly, turning from the window, the last pink haze of sunset still casting over her face.

He blinked once, smiled.

“Good,” he replied, not really to the question. “You looked beautiful just now.”

She tilted her head, brow raised. “Just now?”

He nodded slowly, the ghost of something unsaid in his eyes.

“I was watching.” he murmured.

He had gone back to the folder after she fell asleep, writing under the photo he secretly took of her that evening:

‘I have played five-set matches, stood beneath the weight of millions of eyes, but nothing has ever undone me more than the way she simply turns towards me, face flushing with sunlight and ease. If flawlessness truly exists, it lives in the corners of her smile.’

He hadn’t noticed anything new — at least not at first sight.

It was a quiet night, one of those slow midweeks in Monaco where the land breeze was a whisper through the windows and the city hummed almost distantly beneath them.

She was already asleep, curled in his sheets with the trust of someone who had never once considered the possibility of being unwelcome.

Jannik padded barefoot through the kitchen, half in search of a midnight snack, half just chasing the comfort of solitude — that was when he remembered the archive.

He unlocked his iPad not expecting anything new, after all, he hadn’t updated it in the last couple of days — tour had been demanding and time seemed to be slipping between his fingers like saltwater.

However, to his genuine surprise, there was a new file. The thumbnail was dark, with bluish hues and soft reflections. He paused, then tapped once. It opened to a photo.

It was him, in the pool, of a night where she had asked if he wanted company, and he had replied, “Maybe later,” with a tired smile. The water clung to his skin like liquid glass, reflecting the stars scattered above. His eyes were closed, mouth parted slightly, muscles slack — the kind of stillness that only came when no one was watching.

Except she had been.

There was a caption underneath — her words, typed in the same small font he used for his own thoughts — no embellishments nor signatures, only her heart placed quietly beneath his image like a prayer on an altar.

‘He is always chasing light. Sun on my hair, wine on my lips, ink on my spine. But no one tells him he carries it, too. That even stillness looks like poetry when it's him breathing in moonlight. I watched him float in silence and thought: God must have taken his time with this one.’

Jannik sat still, chest tight in a way that felt both like ache and peace. He read it again, then again — tracing the photo with a hesitant finger, as though afraid touching it would smudge the moment.

His throat caught, she had seen him. Not the version of himself the world clapped for, the sculpted frame trained into precision for the court, or the quiet, stoic athlete whose name echoed in stadiums. She had seen the boy who stilled below the stars, who sometimes said ‘maybe later’ because the noise was too much — who floated in silence not to be poetic, but to breathe.

She had entered the sacred vault of his archive without asking for permission, yes, but left without disturbing anything — leaving only a piece of herself in the place where he had quietly worshiped her for months.

It was a response, not a disruption. A conversation between lovers that needed no sound.

He closed the iPad, proceeded to return it gently to the table before walking back to the room where she was waiting for him — as always, even in sleep.

Jannik slid underneath the covers, wrapping an arm around her waist as he pulled her in against him. He pressed a tender kiss to her temple and hushly whispered with his mouth against her hair a quiet “You saw me.”

Like it was the only thing in the world that ever mattered.

She was curled into his side on a balcony chair, head resting against his chest, legs tucked beneath her, barefoot and serene.

The next day, Jannik's Instagram was blowing up — a problem he solved quickly by nonchalantly turning off the app's notifications.

It was posted without a tag — no filters, no announcement. Just a single photo, golden and grainy, clearly taken on film.

He wasn’t looking at the camera, but at her, chin tilted slightly down, expression caught somewhere between awe and disbelief, as if he still couldn’t understand how someone like her had become a constant in his life.

It wasn’t performative in the slightest — no flash of logos, tennis references or even captions with inside jokes for fans to dissect — but a confession.

Below the picture, he wrote:

‘Some loves are loud. The fireworks kind, all teeth and spectacle, but mine is quiet. It documents, memorizes.

It carves altars out of moments no one else would notice, like the way she sighs when the sun slips behind the hills or how her fingers dance on the rim of her wine glass when she’s thinking.

I have known victory, applause, but this is the only thing I have ever wanted to keep.’

No one needed an explanation, the world didn't need to see every piece of them, but that single frame — that soft truth — was his way of saying ‘She’s it. She has always been it.’

[drdemonprince]

Early in Geller’s career, she developed a Community Outreach Partnership Program for ED patients who hadn’t responded to, or weren’t interested in, traditional methods (cognitive behavioral therapy; keeping a food diary; aiming for three meals and two snacks a day). These patients had been landing in the emergency department with heart problems or blood abnormalities—mainly from typically presenting AN [anorexia nervosa]. Her first patient was Linda*, a woman with AN known as a “revolving-door” admission; she ended up there about once a month, year after year. “She was really upset and unhappy with the care system,” Geller said, “because she did not want a full recovery.”  Each time Linda was admitted, she’d be pushed to gain more weight than she was comfortable with. So rather than recovery, Geller focused on meeting her where she was at. Linda loved to ride her bike. She loved to ski. She was a runner. A huge proportion of her joy, and her identity, came from doing these activities and being good at them.  “It was only after she heard me reflect that I understood the importance of those things in her life that she was willing to talk about how hard it was when, after a giant ride, she couldn’t get out of bed,” Geller said. “And how much she disliked having to come into hospital.” They developed a harm reduction plan with a shared goal: Linda being able to eat restrictively, and still ski and bike, without ending up in the hospital. “And she never came back to hospital,” Geller said. “She actually never returned to what would be considered a ‘normal’ weight, but she continued doing the things that she liked, and she was able to work, and she was able to have many of the things in her life that she wished for. And it wasn’t using a full-recovery model.” Linda was in her 40s at the time.

There's some triggering stuff in here obviously (weight talk, food talk, ED talk, acknowledgement of some people with EDs not wanting to gain weight and lots of physicians' flawed understandings of both ED and weight), so please be advised and expect that, but this was a great read! traditional ED recovery plans move way too fucking fast for some people to ever be comfortable with, are entirely too focused on raw numbers, have a ton of fatphobic assumptions deeply buried within them, and ignore the fact that for a huge subset of ED patients (such as neurodivergent people), eating frequently and refeeding symptoms can be so physically unpleasant as to be undesirable, and being denied ANY opportunity to burn off anxiety via exercise can be a no-go. A harm reductionist, flexible approach to EDs that focuses on what the person with the ED wants and needs is a far better way to go than the abstinence model.

[spookysanta]

Relationship Dynamics. (Ongoing)

I wanted to develop a landing page of sorts, to help readers understand the relationships between muses. You'll notice that, across all of my fics, that these traits have kinda taken minds of their own. Of course, if you have any suggestions for future fics, pleeeease send me a message.

Just a note: I'm off work for the next week and a half so... lots to see, lots to write! You'll probably hear from me a lot, and conclusively, be annoyed by my presence.

This is a live document!

💥 Michael & Reader: "The Feral Love Story"

Vibes: Chaotic. Obsessive. Raw.  He’s insatiable for her, and everyone knows it. She’s the one who tries to keep them in check, but the way he loves her — publicly, physically, vocally — makes that damn near impossible.

Core Traits:

Michael is possessive, unfiltered, and always handsy.

She’s equally obsessed but a little more composed… until he breaks her.

Their chemistry is overwhelming — they’re always touching, always teasing, always one wrong look away from sneaking off.

They don’t fight often, but when they do, it’s passionate — full of intense emotion, yelling, make-up sex that levels cities.

Communication Style: Loud. Direct. No real filters.

She checks him when needed, and he actually listens — not because he wants to, but because it’s her.

He’s better with physical affection than words (obviously), but when he speaks, it’s unforgettable.

Sex Life: Absolutely unhinged.

She’s his favorite playground — mascara ruined, stretch marks kissed, skin bitten, spit shared (*ahem* Sinners inspo right here officer), walls and headboards tested.

Very public in how much they adore each other (and how much they can’t behave).

How People Perceive Them:

“They’re obsessed with each other.”

“They’re always sneaking off.”

“I don’t know how she handles him.”

“They probably fuck like rabbits.”

⸻

🔥 Aaron & Reader: "The Controlled Burn"

Vibes: Slow. Intense. Deliberate. He’s quiet and composed until he isn’t. She’s the chaotic one in this pair — flirty, needy, occasionally bratty — and he’s the anchor. Until he unravels. And then he loses his shit.

Core Traits:

Aaron is soft-spoken, deeply protective, and fiercely intentional.

She’s always pushing his buttons — teasing, tempting — because she knows he’s hiding a storm under the surface.

They don’t argue often. But when she tests him, he lets her know exactly where the line is.

Communication Style:

Aaron listens more than he talks, but when he speaks, it lands.

He reads her energy like a second language — always noticing when she’s off, always knowing when to back off and when to push.

She loves to rile him up. He lets her… until he doesn’t.

Sex Life: Calculated chaos.

When he snaps, it’s like flipping a switch — handprints, hickies, bites and bruises.

He’s the type to whisper filth while looking her in the eye with a hand at her throat.

She’s always shocked at how dirty he really is beneath all that composure.

How People Perceive Them:

“He’s so sweet to her.”

“They’re always so in sync.”

“She’s definitely the handful.”

“No way he’s that calm at home.”

⸻

💛 Keith & Reader: “The Gentle Storm”

Vibes: Soulful. Intimate. Steady-burn. Their love feels like a golden hour — quiet but consuming. He doesn’t do drama, but his love is deep, physical, and fiercely protective. She’s more expressive — talks with her hands, feels everything loudly — and he becomes her sanctuary. They speak fluent touch.

Core Traits:

Keith is lowkey intense — calm on the surface, but rides hard for his peace, his art, and her.

Reader is emotional, vibrant, a little anxious sometimes — but she softens in his presence.

They balance each other: she gives language to their love, and he gives it a heartbeat.

He doesn’t chase attention — he commands it quietly. But when it comes to her? That’s the one thing he’ll make noise for.

Communication Style: Warm. Intentional. Barely above a whisper.

Keith’s not the type to yell — even when he’s hurt, his voice stays low, calm, clear.

Reader is the more verbal one — she expresses needs, frustrations, dreams out loud. Sometimes she wants a bigger reaction, but learns he’s listening deeper than most.

When he does finally speak his feelings? It hits like a thunderclap. He’ll sit next to her, eyes locked, and say something like, “I don’t wanna be anywhere you’re not. That’s it.” And that’s enough.

Sex Life: Slow. Deep. Focused. Unforgettable.

Keith’s the kind of lover who makes you feel seen — full eye contact, open mouth kisses, music playing low in the background, every movement intentional.

But he’s also got that vibe of when something wakes the beast in him? He’ll pin her to the mattress, whisper “mine”, and remind her he’s not all softness.

He doesn’t just take his time — he enjoys it. Back kisses. Lazy Sunday sex. Pulls her leg over his waist like it belongs there (because it does).

They don’t even rush to get dressed — they walk around the house tangled in each other like it’s their natural state.

How People Perceive Them:

“They’re so chill together, but you can feel how deep it runs.”

“He watches her like she’s the only thing in the room.”

“They probably have soul-snatching sex and then bake banana bread after.”

“I thought he was shy — then I saw the way he looks at her. Never mind.”

[astars-things]

what the hell y/n

Jack hughes x daughter!reader

where jack finds vapes in y/ns room

reader is 16

warning very angst

Jack had always prided himself on being a good dad. He wasn’t perfect—far from it—but he had always tried to do right by Y/N. He worked his ass off to give her a good life, to teach her right from wrong, to make sure she knew that no matter what, she could come to him.

But now, standing in his daughter’s room, holding the evidence of her bad choices in his hands, Jack felt like a failure.

The vapes sat in his palm, neon-colored with stupid fruity flavors written across them. He gritted his teeth, his chest tight with frustration and disappointment. His little girl—the one he’d raised, protected, loved—was doing this?

His hands shook as he shoved the vapes onto the kitchen counter and waited. Y/N was out with friends, probably laughing and having the time of her life while he sat here, stewing in anger. He didn’t even know what he was going to say. How could she be so reckless? How could she be so stupid?

The front door finally opened, and Y/N walked in, humming to herself as she kicked off her shoes. Jack wasted no time.

“Y/N,” his voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a knife.

She blinked, clearly startled by his tone. “Uh, yeah?”

He pointed to the counter, jaw tight. “You want to explain what the fuck those are?”

Her eyes flicked to the vapes, and in an instant, he saw it—guilt. Panic. She tried to mask it, crossing her arms over her chest. “I don’t know. They’re not mine.”

Jack scoffed, shaking his head. “Don’t lie to me.” His voice cracked, raw and furious. “Don’t stand there and act like this is nothing. You know better. And if you don’t, then I failed as a dad.”

Y/N’s lips pressed into a thin line. “You’re overreacting.”

That made Jack snap. “Overreacting?” His voice was sharp, almost a yell. “Do you even know what this shit does to you? You’re sixteen! Your brain isn’t even fully developed, and you’re putting this crap in your body?” He ran a hand through his hair, pacing. “What the hell were you thinking?”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Everyone does it, Dad.”

Jack slammed his hand down on the counter, making her jump. “I don’t give a shit what everyone else does! You’re not everyone else—you’re my daughter!”

She swallowed, but the defiance was still there. “It’s not a big deal—”

“It is a big deal!” Jack cut her off. “Who gave them to you? Did you buy them? Did someone give them to you?”

Y/N looked away.

“Answer me!”

She huffed. “I—I got them, okay? It doesn’t matter how.”

Jack let out a bitter laugh. “Oh, it fucking matters. You think I’m just gonna let this slide? No car, no going out, and you’re giving me your phone until I decide you’ve earned it back.”

Y/N’s eyes widened. “What? Dad, no—”

“You don’t get to argue with me on this,” he snapped. “You clearly can’t be trusted to make smart decisions, so I’ll make them for you.”

She let out an angry noise, turning away. “This is bullshit.”

Jack ran a hand over his face, trying to calm himself down before he said something he’d regret. His heart ached. He wasn’t just angry—he was disappointed. He’d thought she knew better. He thought she’d respect herself more than this.

The front door swung open, and Luke walked in, grinning. “Hey, Jack, you see my—” His words died when his eyes landed on the counter. His face paled. “Shit.”

Jack’s blood ran cold. Slowly, he turned to face his brother. “Your what?”

Luke swallowed hard, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh—”

Realization crashed over Jack like a tidal wave. His stomach churned as he looked between Luke and Y/N. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he muttered.

Luke’s gaze flickered to Y/N, who refused to look at him. His shoulders sagged. “Y/N…”

Jack’s jaw clenched so hard it hurt. “You stole them from Luke?”

Silence.

Y/N stared at the floor, but she didn’t deny it.

Jack exhaled sharply, his hands shaking. “You stole from your uncle. And you thought what? That I wouldn’t find out? That I wouldn’t care?”

Y/N finally looked up, and for the first time, he saw it—the regret, the shame.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered.

Jack let out a dry laugh, completely void of humor. “Sorry doesn’t fucking cut it, Y/N.”

Luke cleared his throat. “Jack, maybe—”

“No, Luke,” Jack snapped, cutting him off. “She lied to me. She stole from you. And she doesn’t even think it’s a big deal.”

Y/N’s face crumbled. “I do! I—I just…” She trailed off, shaking her head.

Jack sighed, his anger still burning, but exhaustion was creeping in. “Go to your room,” he muttered.

Y/N opened her mouth to argue but stopped when she saw the look in his eyes. Defeat settled over her as she nodded, disappearing upstairs.

Jack braced himself against the counter, gripping the edge like it was the only thing holding him up.

Luke sighed. “She’s a teenager, man. She’s gonna make mistakes.”

Jack let out a bitter chuckle. “Yeah. And it’s my job to make sure those mistakes don’t ruin her life.”

Luke was silent for a moment before nodding. “You’re a good dad, Jack.”

Jack didn’t feel like it. Not tonight.

[dried-mushroom]

My Queen

Aemond 'one-eyed' Targaryen x reader

Warnings: mentions of violence, incest (uncle & niece), oral sex (m receiving), public handjob, fingering, missionary sex, porn with plot, short slow burn, Aemond is head over heels for you, soft! Aemond

Enjoy!!!!!

You were the firstborn daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen and Harwin Strong. No stark resemblance to the knight as do your siblings, as you were the only one born with silver Targaryen hair. This made you stand out compared to your brothers, as their heritage was a common topic for gossip, and they did not have a single feature from Ser Laenor, your mother's betrothed. You were still considered a true Targaryen and not a bastard child nonetheless.

It had been years since your family had been back to Kings landing, years since you'd seen your uncles, Aegon and Aemond. You had less than fond memories of the older prince as a teen, he was always trying to get you alone and mentioning how he could satisfy you better than any other lord or knight. You often ignored his words but sometimes he was just too vile to bare.

His brother on the other hand intrigued you. He was much quieter than Aegon, but he spoke to you often. Usually, it was only small talk when you ran into the prince. You honestly didn't mind, as you may have developed a liking for the younger prince. What you weren't expecting was he already wanted you for himself.

The clearest memories between you and Aemond were when your brothers and your uncle decided to tease him about his lack of claiming a dragon. You knew how cruel Jace and Luke could be, as they enjoyed making your life harder so to speak. You lectured them both when you found out what they did to Aemond and searched for the young prince.

When you found him perched against an old oak tree, with his head in his hands, you sat next to him. As he turned to face you, you could see how red and raw his eyes were, obviously from crying. You tried to apologize for your brother's behaviour but he didn't want your pity, instead, he told you not to worry, and that he would make sure he gained a dragon. He didn't enjoy being harsh towards you and apologized later that day by gifting you a book with a note inside.

Another less fond memory of your prince was the night of Lady Laena's funeral. The entire day had an aura of gloom, and you could tell the tension was tightening between your family and Aemond's. Rhaenyra and Alicent were clawing at each other's throats every time they were close and the rumour that your mother had birthed four bastards was certainly a rumour that the HighTowers were eager to entertain, just so that your mother was seen as an untrustworthily whore.

Yet you remained close to Aemond, usually strolling around the grounds of the castle together or watching him train to duel with his brother and Ser Criston. But that dreadful night something changed, that night he finally got one of the two things he always wanted; to claim a dragon. Vhagar, Laena's dragon was sleeping peacefully until Aemond woke her, and through his bravery and her compliance, He successfully bonded with her by commanding her to calm herself and serve him in High Valyrian.

He quickly got the hang of it and rides the dragon around High Tide before landing. Vhagar was the biggest dragon in Westeros and the most powerful of any dragons the Targaryen's had. Whilst his little flying escapade, Laena's daughters noticed his absence and could hear the familiar roar coming from their mother's dragon, so they rushed over to Jace and Luke to help them find who had stolen the dragon, which was meant for the eldest Velarylon girl, Rhaena.

You were resting against a cold stone wall, seemingly fazed, when your younger brothers and cousins rushed up to you and told you about your uncle. You suddenly recalled hearing the familiar noise of the dragon and Aemond had excused himself from you as he 'felt ill' earlier. You trailed behind the four as they went to inside the castle searching for Aemond. When they spotted the young prince, they all started arguing over who had a claim to the dragon. You stayed behind them, not entirely wanting to be there.

Without a second thought, Rhaena hit Aemond for an insult he had said to her about her mother, but the latter was stronger and threw her to the ground. Your brothers quickly joined in the fight. Jace pushed Aemond to the ground and he broke Luke's nose somehow. You felt conflicted, about who to defend; either your brothers or the boy you've liked for what seemingly felt like eons.

You tried to get in between Luke and Aemond to break them up. Aemond wasn't thinking straight and accidentally hit you with a rock he had in his hand, to use on Luke. As soon as he realised what he did he dropped the rock and started apologising profusely, but Jace thought it was the perfect time to get revenge on the prince for hurting his big sister and stealing their cousin's dragon, as he threw sand into the boy's eyes and Luke slashed the boy in the right eye, blinding him.

You quickly snapped out of your pain haze and quickly rushed over to the wailing boy, whose face was now covered in blood. You couldn't believe what your brothers had done. Everything became a blur after that moment, you remember blood soaking your light-coloured dress and guiding Aemond through the castle to his mother. Him clutching you tightly, still muttering apologies to you, your relatives spewing their disgust at you for aiding the prince.

The last time you and the prince spent time was the most memorable. It was the day your mother remarried to her uncle, Daemon. You, Jace, and Luke were told by your mother that you all would be leaving for dragonstone and to say your goodbyes, the handmaidens would pack your belongings but be ready to leave King's landing before noon. This sudden news upset you heavily as you would be separated from Aemond and your friends for God knows how long. You wandered around the castle soaking in each and every detail as if it were the last. You made your way to Aemond's chambers, worried about his reaction to your leaving.

The both of you got incredibly closer ever since that fight, seemingly you both were joined at the hip, always sharing longing glances that teetered on the border of platonic. Once you reached the door and knocked, the familiar face of your blonde prince greeted you, eagerly letting you inside his room. You picked at your cuticles, not wanting to share the news with Aemond. He noticed the disdain on your face, and spoke "What's wrong, Princess Y/N?" you sighed, "Mother wants me and my brothers to travel to dragon stone for some time, she told us to say our goodbyes and to be ready to leave at midday. I'm so sorry." His smile faulted, as he took in your words.

He felt almost ill, his beloved was leaving so abruptly, he didn't know what to say, as he knew he couldn't sway Rhaenyra. Without a thought, he closed the gap between you both, slowly pressing his lips to yours, in a tender kiss. He gripped the fabric of your dress, either in a plea to hold you even closer or to keep you with him even longer. You couldn't help but feel something hard pressing into your thigh, your cheeks were ablaze when you realised what that something was.

You broke the kiss, knowing you didn't have much time left. He must have realised and quickly retrieved something from one of his drawers. It was a small bracelet, decorated in emeralds, the Hightower colour. You couldn't help but smile a little as he slipped it around your wrist. You gave him one last peck before saying the last words you'd say to him for the next six years. "Please write to me, or maybe even visit, I won't forget you, I beg you to do the same, goodbye my prince." "I will my princess, don't doubt it. Goodbye y/n." You left his chambers, not realising his brother was waiting outside his door.

Aegon grabbed your arm tightly and whispered in your ear. "You're leaving? fuck sake, why can't Rhaenyra just send the twats you call brothers away, she really wants to torture me. " You tried wiggling out of his harsh grip, but he wouldn't let go, "You know, I get so fucking hard when you cross my mind, I can't stop thinking about you swollen with my seed, being my little whore and no one el-" Aegon's perverted wishes were quickly diminished as your younger brother called out your name from the entrance of the corridor. Aegon released your arm but said one last thing, "Goodbye my betrothed." You knew that was a sick joke, Aemond had already told you that Aegon and Helena were already betrothed. He just really wanted to fuck with you. You muttered a goodbye with gritted teeth and rushed towards your brother and out of the castle.

Six Years Later:

Your mother and Daemon had decided that it would be best to visit Kings Landing once again, for your ill grandsire and to reaffirm Jace as the heir to the driftwood throne. You wouldn't mind being back at King's landing once again, this time as an 18-year-old woman, you were soon destined to be betrothed to some lord or knight. Another reason would be to see familar faces, such as Helaena, both of you were close. The Velayron girls you missed as well, as they were always sweet to you.

The two men you were dreading to see were Aegon and Aemond. Aegon for the most obvious reasons, he is a fucking pervert. As for Aemond, he in a way broke your heart. He promised to write to you but never acted on that promise, you had written three letters to the prince but he never wrote back. All those years, not one fucking word to you.

At first, you were deeply hurt but you came to understand that you could not let such a foolish thing belittle you as you were to be heir to the iron throne once your mother became Queen, you could not be seen as weak. You begged your mother to let you ride dragon back to the castle but she insisted to take a carriage, to your disappointment. Later that morning you all set off.

When the sight of the familiar castle came into your vision, you became an internal puddle of emotions, relief for finally being back home, happiness for finally being able to reunite with old friends and uneasiness for seeing the boy you loved, a man. Once the carriage abruptly stopped, you all stepped out and you let out a sharp exhale as all the Targaryen decorations that you remembered had been replaced by religious symbols.

Your stepfather made a few comments about Queen Alicent and her father was behind that, humourous but wasn't appropriate. You all were greeted and You, Jace and Luke were allowed to wander the grounds for a while. You found yourself walking near where the duelling practice was taking place and heard the smooth familiar voice belonging to Aemond.

"Nephews, You've come to train?"

You couldn't help but sigh gently when you saw how attractive Aemond had become. His hair was twice as long (more to pull on), and he was more toned and adorned with a black eye patch from the accident between him and your brother. As you walked closer to Aemond and ser Criston, you took in how skilful Aemond had become with a sword.

You joined your brothers and when Aemond saw you for the first time in years he almost forgot what he was even doing. That's how mesmerizing you are to him. Once he managed to make the Knight yield he strode towards you three. Aemond hadn't seen you in six years and he couldn't tear his eyes away from you, how your beautiful blonde hair framed your face, how your eyes were just as vibrant as they were and he couldn't help but let his eyes linger over your figure in your black & red dress, how he could get a glimpse of your cleavage as he towered over you.

"My niece, how I have missed you."

His tone was sultry and he gave your hand a quick kiss before giving your brothers a nasty look.

"Jace. Luke. Can you give me and your sister a moment alone?"

They raised their eyebrows but walked away leaving the both of you alone. He sighed before grabbing both of your hands into his.

"My dear y/n, Before you speak, listen to me. I never wanted to break that promise I made to you all those years ago. Alas, my mother had other thoughts, she forbade me from any contact with you."

"But-But why? I never did anything to offend her?"

He knew how you felt, his mother was a confusing bitch. Wanting to place Aegon, a drunk who regularly commits infidelity, as King on the iron throne. Instead, he believed he himself should have a claim to the throne. He was the one who studied history and philosophy. He was the one who trained with a sword. Oh, what he would truly do to be King and have you by his side as his Queen.

"Her reasoning seemed uncouth, as it was since you were the daughter of Rhaenyra and bare no resemblance to Ser Laenor. My mother decided that you would be unfit for me. But I couldn't go one day all those years without a thought of you trickling into my mind. Hm, you're still wearing that?"

You looked down at your wrist and couldn't help it as the blush rose to your cheeks at his words, it was the gift he left you on your last day spent together, he felt an odd sense of pride knowing you still cherished that simple bracelet. He pulled you into a tight embrace with your hands still in his grip. His large arms wrapped around you almost lovingly, and he rested his head upon yours. He murmured into your hair but before you could ask what he had said you both were interrupted by a sharp feminine voice.

"Aemond! come here. We need to talk"

And with that, Aemond sighed before releasing you to follow his cunt of a mother. You turned around to find Daemon smirking at you and laughing as he walked away, and you could tell that today would be interesting, to say the least.

Once the clock struck midday, most of everyone had made their way to the throne room to start their petitions for the heir to drift mark. Your grandsire was too sick to sit on the throne so Otto and Alicent were the ones listening. You followed your family and stood with your younger brothers. Once Vaemond, your technical uncle had proposed he be the heir to the driftwood throne which had made your entire family worry as you all knew that the Hightowers were going to do anything in their power to weaken your family. But you couldn't help but smile when you noticed how Aemond was looking at you from across the room.

When it was finally time for Rhaenyra to speak for your brother and as soon as she started the doors opened to the throne. You all turned and saw your grandfather, struggling to walk down the stairs to his place on the throne. Daemon helped his brother onto the iron throne before letting him speak. The king had reaffirmed your brother's place on the driftwood throne and you were extremely happy for him. You placed a hand on his shoulder, telling him how happy you were for him. You couldn't see how Aemond balled his hands into tight fists of jealousy, he didn't enjoy seeing you touching any other males, nonetheless, the boy who took his eye when they were younger.

After that gruesome turn of events, you were expected to go to a family dinner, your family and the Hightowers together how could that possibly go wrong? That evening you had walked into the dining room, lit up by numerous glowing candles. You noticed how almost everyone had been seated and there was an empty chair beside Aemond. Once you sat down, you saw how he looked at you, abashedly adoringly. He leaned down and whispered in your ear.

"I can't wait for tonight, I have something special planned for you. I know you'll like it."

You shivered as his warm breath trickled down your neck. You both shot back up once you heard Alicent cough loudly. You both noticed how Luke was staring almost disgustedly at the scene in front of him, but Aemond just smirked at him knowingly. In the middle of Alicunt saying grace, you felt a warm hand on your skirts. Your eyes flicked open to meet Aemond's closed ones, he seemed awfully proud of himself. What he wasn't expecting was to feel your hand gently brush against his growing erection. You watched how his breath hitched as his mother finished saying grace. As each family member conversed with one another you were trying not to concentrate on the hand trailing up your inner thigh to your arousal.

"So y/n have you been betrothed yet? I have just never seen you with a suitor yet."

Helaena's words broke you out of your haze, you stumbled around your words.

"Uh, not yet haven't. I feel as if men just are not so attracted to me."

You didn't notice Aemond's slight disappointment at your words, as you knew how much he adored you, inside and out.

"Well I'm sure you'll find someone soon, don't worry marriage isn't so appealing as it seems"

The subtle insult to Aegon made you laugh, a sound Aemond treasured. He truly enjoyed seeing you happy, he also wanted to see the noises of pleasure you'd make, squirming on his cock. He took his middle finger and trailed it over your underwear, just over your wet slit. You let out a quiet mewl but contained yourself quickly as you remembered where you were, you glared at Aemond but found him already looking at you. As food was brought out one plate by one, you took the opportunity to seek a small sliver of revenge. When a servant placed a whole roasted pig in front of the both of you, bad taste in your opinion. You popped open Aemond's pants and slipped your hand inside and into his undergarments to pull out his already leaking cock. You both were concealed by the meal in front of you and the large white tablecloth.

You lazily stroked his cock, every so often you'd spread the pre-cum gathered on his tip, making him grip your thigh hard in desperation. He honestly didn't think you'd do this to him, he only had imagined you doing such things to him in his more...personal fantasies. What he was planning to do under the table would have to wait but he'd repay you back generously. After some looming stares, your grandfather spoke for one last thing before he passed, to have one evening with his family with their grievances put aside. Your mother had commended Alicent on her loyalty to her father and her devotion to her husband and Alicent had returned her graciousness, saying she would make a fine queen. Everyone drank from their cup. You kept your pace while everyone seemed finally happy to be in each other's presence, everyone was smiling and laughing with one another, unknowingly witnessing you jerk off your uncle under the table.

Aemond knew he wasn't going to last long as you were so good for him. He loved how you were pleasuring him, and he honestly loved how no one even noticed the debauched action you both were doing. You stroked him one more time before he let out an extremely loud groan and he came, warm spurts all over your hand. You sighed internally and meet the disturbed faces of your family. They all knew what you had just done to Aemond and how Aemond fully enjoyed it. Without a second thought he put himself away, dragged you out of your chair and out of the room. The entire room was silent until Aegon laughed loudly and congratulated his brother earning multiple stares of disapproval.

You and Aemond ran out out of earshot and leant against the cold wall of a stairwell, breathless. You couldn't help but laugh about the situation you both put yourselves in, rightfully you both just scarred your entire family and knew the lectures you were bound to receive the next day. The first one to speak was Aemond, stumbling around, trying to figure what he would say until what he had spend all day planning popped into his head.

"Thank you my princess. I truly enjoyed that, shall I repay the favor?"

"What are you offering my prince?"

Aemond took your hand in his, gently rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. He met your soft gaze before leading you up the stairs into his chambers. When he opened the door, you saw a simple (choice of flower) on the edge of the bed next to a small wrapping of parchment paper. You wondered how in all of kings landing how he knew your favourite flower. He guided you towards the bed and sat down, you subconsciously played with the petals of the flower now in your lap. Aemond places the small wrapped into your hand,

"Open it, I know you'll like it."

You took Aemond's words and carefully unwrapped the gift. You couldn't believe it, it was a beautiful ring, gold with small emeralds engraved on the sides.

"My dear y/n, Will you take me? be my Queen?"

You nodded eagerly as you pressed your lips to his.

"Of course my King."

He pulled you into his lap, his hands wrapped around you deliciously. You couldn't help but moan as he slid his tongue into your mouth. He had a tight grip on your skirts, pulling you closer to the hardness in his pants. He broke the kiss to trial small bites over your neck, leaving a purple trail in his wake. He couldn't help himself but grind you down on his lap, trying to get as much friction as he could. You were more than happy to reprociate. He mumbled curses under his breath as he layed you down onto the soft sheets, taking in your debauched beauty. He slowly unzipped your dress, pulling it off completely, leaving you only in a pair of undergarments. He could feel his cock twitch just looking at you, and he was on his knees infront of you, and lazily stroked himself through his trousers, tempting himself.

He quickly made work of his vest and the white shirt underneath. He was about to get rid of his pants but before he could even reach the button, he felt your mouth against his bulge, his hips bucked against you at the warm feeling. He squeezed his eyes shut as you pulled out his cock once again and this time wrapped your mouth around his tip. He moaned in ecstasy at foreign feeling, he couldn't help but thrust into your mouth, trying to chase more. You braced both your hands onto his thighs as you took more of his dick. He absolutely loved you like this; you were so beautiful it hurt. You could tell by his stuttering hips that it wouldn't be long until he came, you gave him one more long lick up his shaft and pulled his weeping cock out of your mouth. You could see the slight disappointment on his face but you reassured him.

"I want you to cum in me."

He groaned when he heard those debauched words leave your pretty mouth. He couldn't wait to ruin you. You laid back down, and he laid himself above you, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer. He slowly rubbed the tip of his cock languidly over your glistening slit, teasingly.

You whimpered, already too stimulated for his teasing, "please"

"Please what? You need to use your words."

"Please. I need you to fuck me."

Without a second thought, he slowly pushed his hips forward, entering you, you let out a gasp at the feeling of absolute fullness. Aemond let out a shaky breath, finally getting to feel you after longing for you for years. Aemond begun to thrust his hips quickly, You arched your back, as lewd sounds erupted from your mouth and cunt as the pleasure increased.

Groans escaped Aemond as he could feel your cunt squeezing him so tight, his platinum locks framed your face as he continued his ministrations. You could feel the tip of his cock bumping your cervix with every thrust, he tantalizingly dragged his cock out and in, pressing deeper and Aemond let one of his hands wander to your clit, fumbling the bundle of nerves in delicate circles

Aemond ducked his head between your tits, licking the mounds and swirling around your bouncing nipples. They grew more sensitive. He pinched one nipple and took the other in his toothy mouth, nibbling and sucking at your flesh.

"Oh fuck Aem, I think I'm going to cum."

Aemond practically whimpered against you, a beautiful sound, he broke away from your chest,

"Cum on my cock, my Queen."

The combination of the abuse on your pussy and tits, that tight coil in your stomach finally fucking snapped and you gushed, all over Aemond's cock and naval. It didn't take a minute more for Aemond to fill you up with his seed, you felt the warm spurts of his cum inside you and couldn't describe the feeling you felt, was it adoration? Was it love? you couldn't tell as he slipped out of you, leaving your pussy clenching at nothing and he laid beside you. You rested your head on his chest and gazed up into his eye, he whispered lovingly;

"I cannot wait until we are married on Dragonstone and you swell with our children."

You let yourself fall asleep unaware of the arguments that you and Aemond will deal with in the morrow.

The end

This was a draft from last year but since Hotd season 2 will be released I knew I NEEDED to post this. Hope y'all like it.

[frownyalfred]

All these posts about B needing to aggressively bulk constantly-

I get the feeling that he's really REALLY grateful that the first of his kids to join him in the life was Dick. In this case, specifically because the drastic difference in kid-Dick's combat style and Batman's thoroughly established that they don't need to copy Batman to be effective. Not so closely that they'd ever need to develop his own constant bulking, at least. Robin revolved around You Can't Touch This, primarily, which is Also Hella Effective and actively Does Not Want to be so huge, generally.

With young-Dick, they developed a whole new combat style for him around what he was already good at: aero- and acro-batics. Constant movement, showmanship that distracts the eye and messes with aiming, light as a feather barely touches down ever and can do so at all angles and heights, thus including people as viable landing targets and kickoff targets, etc..

So while all the kids have their own preferences and tendencies, they aren't trying to Be Batman. They start off learning Robin flavored combat because they keep starting young and smaller, but branch into whatever suits them. Thanks to the drastic contrast between The Bat and tiny baby new Robin!Dick, how well they made that work, it's never occurred to them that they should.

And so B is grateful for that, because his kids have learned how to make any skills Work For Them and have normalised that to themselves from the beginning, so much so that the idea of bulking like hell to be a Tank like B would never occur to them in the first place.

(They've all had times of Trying To Emulate The Bat, but its always in capabilities- investigation, cleverness, skill, stealth, logic and calm, learn-more-things. Not "Built Like A Tank And Hits Like One"-ness. They hit harder with cleverness-- tools and momentum from spins and gravity and skill. Not raw muscle mass.)

Exactly. And I’m pretty sure we’ve touched on it here before, but it makes it even worse when Dick has to take up the mantle when Bruce is dead. Because it also means putting on that weight and muscle, when he never thought he would have to. 

[fatehbaz]

Originally, I'd attached these tags about British imperial forestry to a post about United States treatment of forests, Indigenous peoples, and land administration from 1900-ish to 1935-ish, during a transition period when clear-cutting logging was threatening profit so the US turned to a German-/British-influenced "sustained yield" forestry paradigm:

And in response, someone added:

In the midst of the first Empire Forestry Conference of scientists, academics, and colonial administrators in 1920, the chairman of the Forestry Commission of Britain, Lord Lovat, said that forests were "grown for use and not for mere ornament ... Forests are national assets only so far as they supply the raw material for industrial development."

Rajan (in Modernizing Nature) directly quotes professor of forestry at Oxford, R.S. Troup, who had been influential in the Indian forest service; at the same forestry conference in 1920, Troup promoted sustained yield like this: "Conservation was a 'wise and necessary measure' but it was 'only a stage towards the problem of how best to utilise the forest resources of the empire'. The ultimate ideal was economic management [...], which regarded forests as capital assets, fixed annual yields in such a manner as to exploit 'to the full interest on this capital [...]' and aimed for equal annual yields so as to sustain the market and provide regular supplies of timber to industry."

An accessible summary of the shift to sustained yield: [Modernizing Nature: Forestry and Imperial Economic Development, 1800-1950. S. Ravi Rajan. 2006.] Concise look at the trajectory from Royal Navy timber reserves; to British foresters training in German traditions before joining as officers in the powerful British-Indian land administration bureaucracy; to US scientists being trained by those British administrators.

From Rajan:

"[An] extremely important aspect to the repackaging [of forestry science and management] [...] [and] a critical principle that stands out here is that of sustained yield, or sustainability (Nachhaltigekeit). This concept was fundamental [...]. By the turn of the [twentieth] century a large pan-colonial [British-United States] scientific community was in existence, trained in the German and French tradition of forestry [...]. Following the revolt of 1857, the government of [British] India sought to pursue active interventionist policies [...]. Experts were deployed as 'scientific soldiers' [...]. Dietrich Brandis [...], considered the founder of Indian forestry [...] married Rachel Marshman, who was [...] also the sister of the wife of General Havelock, a close friend of Lord Dalhouse, the then governor-general of India. On Havelock's recommendation, Brandis was put in charge of the forests of [...] Burma [...] and was subsequently appointed inspector-general of forests of India. [...] He also trained prospective foresters of the forest department of the USA, including Gifford Pinchot. [...] Chancellor Bismarck gave the visiting British Prime Minister Gladstone an oak sapling [...]. Prussia prided itself on helping devise [...] modern forest management. [...] [T]he Forestry Commision [...], [or] [t]he Imperial Visionaries, as they became known, believed that an increase in primary production in the tropical dependent empire would result in the growth of the British economy. [...] They deemed their own job to be serving the imperial economy."

---

This has also been covered by:

Vinita Damodaran, Richard Grove, Jeyamalar Kathirithamby-Wells, Jonathan Saha, Gregory Barton, Rohan D'Souza.

More summaries of the situation (shorter length, accessible):

"Imperial Environmentalism or Environmental Imperialism? European Forestry, Colonial Forests and the Agenda of Forest Management in the British Empire, 1800-1900". S. Ravi Rajan, In: Nature and Orient: Essays on Environmental History of South and South East Asia, 1998.

"'Dominion over palm and pine': the British Empire forestry conferences, 1920-1947". J.M. Powell, Journal of Historical Geography, Volume 33, Issue 4, October 2007.

Elsewhere, Elizabeth DeLoughrey and George Handley described it like this: 'These forest reserves [...] did not necessarily represent "an atavistic interest in preserving the 'natural' [...]" but rather "a more manipulative and power-conscious interest in constructing new landscapes [...]."' While Sharae Deckard adds: '[T]he subversive potential of the "green" critique [...] was defused by the extent to which growing environmental sensibilities enabled imperialism to function more efficiently by appropriating botanical knowledge and indigenous conservation methods [...].'

---

And the book:

Commonwealth Forestry and Environmental History: Empire, Forests and Colonial Environments in Africa, the Caribbean, South Asia and New Zealand.

Edited by Damodaran and D'Souza, with work from conferences hosted by Grove, in 19 chapters including:

"Worlds Apart? The Scottish Forestry Tradition and the Development of Forestry in India" (K. Jan Ootheok); "Redeeming Wood by Destroying the Forest: Shola, Plantations and Colonial Conservancy on the Nilgiris in the Nineteenth Century" (Deborah Sutton); "Nature's Tea Bounty: Plant Colonialism and 'Garden' Capitalism in the British Empire" (Jayeeta Sharma); "Industrialized Rainforests: The Ecological Transformation of the Sri Lankan Highlands, 1815-1900"; "Forestry and Social Engineering in the Miombo Woodlands of South-Eastern Tanganyika" (Thaddeus Sunseri)

---

And also:

Empire Forestry and the Origins of Environmentalism. GA Barton, 2002.

"Colonialism and Green Science: History of Colonial Scientific Forestry in South India, 1820-1920". VM Ravikumar Vejendala, Indian Journal of History of Science, 47:2, pages 241-259, 2012.

"Imperialism, Intellectual Networks, and Environmental Change: Unearthing the Origins and Evolution of Global Environmental History." Vinitia Damodaran and Richard Grove, in Nature's End: History and the Environment, 2009.

"The Reconfiguration of Scientific Career Networks in the Late Colonial Period: The Case of Food and Agriculture Organization and the British Colonial Forestry Service" by Jennifer Gold, and "A Network Approach to the Origins of Forestry Education in India, 1855-1885" by Brett M. Bennett. Both chapters are form Science and Empire, 2011.

Triumph of the Expert: Agrarian Doctrines of Development and the Legacies of British Colonialism. Joseph Morgan Hidge, in Series in Ecology and History, 2007.

Nature and Nation: Forests and Development in Peninsular Malaysia. Jeyamalar Kathirithamby-Wells, 2005. And also: "Peninsular Malaysia in the context of natural history and colonial science." Jeyamalar Kathirithamby-Wells, New Zealand Journal of Asian Studies, Volume 11, Number 1, 2009.

"Empires of Forestry: Professional Forestry and State Power in Southeast Asia, Part 1". Peter Vandergeest and Nancy Lee Peluso, Environment and History 12, no. 1, pages 31-64, February 2006.

[deadhands69]

Hi jade,

I’m wondering if you had any thoughts about fantasy au bkg and the nsfw “one bed” trope? 👀👀👀

It’s one of my favorite combinations and there are so many fun scenarios! I’m thinking like legend of zelda world or dungeons and dragons. Fantasy is truly the best au!!!

Yes! Fantasy AUs are so fun, I haven't written a lot but definitely read some!

As a side note, the random thoughts went over 500 wc hence the taglist. So yes, lots of thoughts!

Raw/unedited thoughts:

✴︎ You show up to an inn in the middle of the night at the same time, there's only one room left but that's fine. You both need somewhere to sleep, there's nowhere else to go, and you can easily share it. nbd. The inskeep is surprised, but who is she to say no to happy customers?

✴︎ When you get to the room, there's only one bed. Of course.

✴︎ He would be grouchy about it but absolutely try to take the high road and offer to sleep on a couch or something. That is, until you realize there’s not one. (this is fantasy land and you're not royalty, who just has one of those lying around??)

✴︎ Realizing this, he’d absolutely try to be respectful and draw an imaginary line through the middle or something but that won’t last. That bed is wayyyy too small.

✴︎ Getting ready for bed would be interesting too. Like, if he has armor, he’s taking forever peeling that off and sleeping in practically nothing because there’s no way the padding underneath would be comfortable to sleep in.

✴︎ Even if he’s not, I still can’t imagine him sleeping in much because he seems like someone who’d run hot regardless.

✴︎ Now, for the bed part. If this is DnD, roll a 20 and you slip, fall, and land directly on his dick no questions asked.

✴︎ Roll a 1 and you find yourself knocked out on the floor where you will be sleeping tonight because he just crashed the moment his head hit the pillow and didn’t notice to help you into bed.

✴︎ But more likely, you’ll end up somewhere in the middle and here’s what’ll happen:

✴︎ You both climb into the singular bed in the room, bumping arms and legs because there's not much room. Eventually you settle in, getting comfortable but you're still touching

✴︎ Suddenly,you both realize how attractive the other is to you and find yourself laying there thinking about it while also trying not to think too much of it.

✴︎ I like AUs that have at least parallel life occurrences to canon that lead to the same character development, so I would imagine Bakugo in any universe having been through some shit. Which means, sometime in the middle of the night he wakes up from a nightmare. Initially, he's worried he thrashed around too much but let's you comfort him while he calms down.

✴︎ One thing leads to another, having not felt this calm in years as he does within minutes of being in your arms, he does the only thing his brain can think to do and kisses you.

✴︎ Having been on quests, neither of you've gotten laid in a while. Thus.. Leading to some uncontrollable horniness.

✴︎ The moment you put your hands on him, you can't peel them away. Feeling everything. Muscles, scars, softer skin.

✴︎ He can't pull away from you either. No matter how hard he tries to be chivalrous, wanting to touch you combined with knowing you want him is way too much to overcome.

✴︎ It's been a while, so he's a bit awkward but gets used to being with you quickly. He also probably cums really fast the first time but makes up for it on round two. And three.

✴︎ You're up alllll night together. You don't mean to be, it just happens. Once you both accepted it was happening, the flood gates opened and you can't stop. This is unfortunate for whoever has to share a wall with you too - the bed in the room is pretty rickety and in your excitement you're not exactly going slow here.

✴︎ You leave the next morning together, looking exhausted. The inskeep knows exactly what happened jusy by the looks of you.

✴︎ optional: here's where we find out she set you up on purpose or something.

taglist: @cccandynecklaces @harryzcherry @mynicknameisgasoline @darhinadadragon @ch3rryjampi3

@moonstonejpg @kalulakunundrum @katthekat1234 @touyaeater @kennedyonce

@softknj @minksworldy @gold24fish @nickibunny23 @nyceroni

@chaOskinq @vikizzy @kitkat13001 @kennys-partner @amira-44820

@its-evee16

[ironcade]

i see posts being like "don't see content you want? write it yourself" and like people scare me but also brain worms do brain worm and i want to try and contribute to this collection of people that obsess over men from a shitty war simulator so

fantasy/medieval au concept. somewhat inspired by fics here and ao3 i consume without mercy but with my own twist i guess.

john price, the reluctant king of a country that placed him on the throne after earning the mantle of "hero of the people" alongside his trusted men and knights. he slayed a great evil, bringing light to the corruption of his predecessor and got granted the crown without a second thought to his personal preference. therefore, he accepted the burden no one else could take, bringing with him the three men who would always have his back. they became his advisors, his generals, and the men that too carried the weight of the empire. simon riley, the ghost of manchester. john(johnny) mactavish, or soap, as he is so lovingly dubbed. kyle garrick, but known to most as gaz because johnny thinks he's so funny when he's drunk. the four of them, plus a few others who offer valuable skills and intense loyalty to john make up the leadership of the kingdom.

yet their neighbor and, historically at one point, other half was a country that could not be forgotten. where john and his kingdom are known more for the raw strength of their military and the development of an economy built strongly on working the land, the other is more of a country for the seafaring and trade. they have built themselves up based on their relationships with the sea and their bonds with other kingdoms. they enrich themselves with the goods of others, building coin on contracts and trades. through them, a continent receives everything it needs to thrive and in turn, tariffs are levied. ports are so important after all.

anyways, something happens that requires recompense to be paid. a duke dies under mysterious circumstances or an insult in an ongoing trade war slights john/his people so deep that someone must pay. and, what better way to earn the forgiveness of a king than to dangle the promise of a spouse/political prisoner?

yet, the great queen could not spare her daughters or sons. no. however, the child of a duke? why that would be of equal value for they have some royal blood.

even better, there is a duke that has not one, but two children he can spare. why not the sickly second born? the one that would never amount to much and would only be seen as a resource drain given their incredibly poor health? ah pettiness at its finest.

that was how our dear, beloved reader finds themselves in a carriage, on their way to meet their new husband and captor. there was little they could do, for the state of their health was poor and their father could not fight the order of a queen.

yet, things are not always as they seem. for unbeknownst to most, reader isn't truly some sick and withering noble. for many years ago, the child of a duke was born frail and weak, that is true. however, the duke and duchess refused to let their poor, innocent baby wither away in agony until death granted them mercy. no. instead, they dared to bargain with creatures thought to be whispers of myths and legends long since gone.

fae.

the bargain was simple. fae took children all the time. why not take theirs willingly? imbue them with magic and give them the strength to live. the duke and duchess craved so desperately for their child to live that they were fine never seeing them again, so long as they could laugh and smile and just enjoy life.

a deal goes both ways. the babe would live. in return, though?

the duke and duchess would still have their sickly child. except, fae don't give them a human. no no, don't be silly.

they give them a changeling.

chapter one

[districttrifurcate]

I know I keep venting about Sunrise on the Reaping. But.

“Don’t feel too badly. You’re in good company. You know, my family has its own little aphorism.” “What’s that?” “Snow lands on top.”

This catchphrase functioned as a personal family slogan that kept the Snow family going despite their adversity, and knowing this intimate piece of their history, the backstory of how it developed and what it meant, was a neat touch that brought us deeper into the narrative.

The inclusion of this catchphrase in Sunrise on the Reaping, however, was gauche and gimmicky. In fact, I can’t see any reason for its being shared with Haymitch (a non-family member, a non-Capitol citizen who knows nothing of its history or its significance) other than it being a gimmicky callback to TBoSaS, like the katniss patch reference to THG. Oooh, Snow’s going to win, he’s the one with all the power? Oooh. You don’t say.

It’s little moments like these that rub me raw, because they are entirely silly and only serve to pull me out of the narrative. I’m not reading a harrowing tale of Haymitch's survival and trauma. I’m reading a silly prequel full of fanservice and cheap gimmicks that suggest Snow is a one-dimensional caricature of a villain in a novel that does not take itself seriously.

This book is, shall we say, near beer.

[yuri-is-online]

Jade desperately googling and reading threads about mer x human pregnancies before he even dates yuu.

It differs from species to species, usually fem mer x male human results in viable pregnancies, there are a two articles about eels and humans, but none about morays.

His hope is dwindling, and the general consensus about deep sea folk relationships with humans isn't very good.

I HC that male mer x female human pregnancies don't last very long. After the sperm makes contact with an egg, it'll need a few months of growth before it's expelled from the body and put into the sea. Those kinds of couples usually have one child at a time, it depends on the number of available eggs.

Modern day people in twst have aquariums that are made to hold the clutches in a safe environment away from predators. The aquariums can be used both underwater and on land. After 'hatching' the babies are translucent, they are kept in the aquariums until they gain colour. Once they have enough colour they are let out.

The smallest aquariums need to hold at least one human adult, so that a parent can interact and communicate with their clutch during the growing process.

I think I read a post/fic with a similar headcannon to this? Long long ago, perhaps even before I even downloaded Twisted Wonderland. I don't fully remember... but it is something I have been thinking about a decent bit ever since you sent this ask because it raises so many questions.

I think it makes the most sense in human x mer relationships for one or the other to take a transformation potion and move onto the land/into the sea. In these cases pregnancy/egg laying would go as it would "normally" but what you're suggesting made me think about what would happen if a couple got it on raw in their normal forms and not transformed. Would that result in a viable pregnancy? If it did would it produce the sorts of offspring you are suggesting or would it result in some sort of hybrid child, barely held together by their own magic?

The aquariums are a good idea, the story seems to suggest that Jade and Floyd had other siblings once but they didn't make it. Their mother's obsession with checking up on them and teaching self defense makes a lot of sense if you think of that... she lost most of her babies, she wants the two she has to remain safe (i bet she's going feral rn, let Mama Leech into the enclosure S.T.Y.X. she'll put Malleus in his place ٩(๑`^´๑)۶) My question is whether or not that would interfere with the development of the eggs, especially on land. The deep ocean is very cold, recreating that on land could be problematic. With how few merfolk seem to bother with land (Azul mentions not many people bother with the free program in Book 6) there likely wouldn't be much of anyone thinking up a solution to this problem so few people have.

But Jade has that problem. Or will, he's sure of it but that's a minor detail- point is this is a problem he's actively thinking about. It keeps him awake at night, Jade strikes me as someone who would do a lot of research about this. It's part of how he loves, pouring through a pile of scientific articles that was slim to begin with but feel irrelevant now. None of these help him understand his chances because he is from the deep sea, Jade might be hardened towards the death of his siblings but he thinks of his own children and a rage unlike any he's ever known begins to stir in the pit of his stomach. Later, much later when he is explaining this all to you he will brush it off as him considering your human sensibilities, but the truth is written plain on his face. This little aquarium he has made was a solution painstakingly crafted with help from his own obsessions. It's the most important terrarium he has ever made because it will contain the most precious of all life forms, ones he watches grow in awe as he coos softly. These children were wanted long before they were ever born, their parents loved them to the point of invention and every second up until they hatch and forever after.

[simplyghasel]

pick a card reading:🔮 WHICH TYPE OF WITCH FITS YOU BEST 🔮

note: witch is gender neutral, this reading and the witchcraft path is open for people of all genders. love, a boy witch 💛

Hello!

Do you want to start your witchcraft path and become a witch? This reading can help you! In this free reading we will see which type of witch fits you best, then in the extended version on patreon we will see which first steps you can make to actually start this journey!

Reminder: this reading is to help you find a bit of clarity, but it doesn't force you to do anything, nor to become the type of witch that will come out: I will be adding the types of witches that come to my mind for each reading, but it's a suggestion, NOT the only possible path for you. (Side note: many witches are more types of witch, one thing doesn't exclude the other!)

tip jar

How to use this reading: pick the pile that attracts you from the photo (more than one can attract you), then scroll down and read the correspondent reading

[image description: the three piles, each with their respective number]

pile 1

[image description: pile 1 spread]

Circe (protection, sensuality, excesses) + amethyst (4) + aquarius (11) + the magician in reverse

You seem a very deep but also free type of witch: Circe makes me believe that you are not afraid to dive deep into things, but also that you are a type of witch that may be connected to the nature, to the land and to the ancestral ways; there is a sense of rawness, of something powerful that is not polished - because you don't care to; at the same time, the Aquarius card tells me that you are also a witch that likes to try different things: aquarius is an unbothered sign, who likes to try everything and says no to nothing; now, with Circe also comes the word "protection" so I think that you will have some boundaries in place and protect yourself (plese do!), but inside those boundaries you will probably like to explore and dabble around; then we have the amethyst, which is connected, with its purple, to psychic gifts and abilities, but this card shows us a crystal that is very grounded, but doesn't go a lot high in elevation: it makes me think that you may have some developed (or in developing) psychic gifts that will find a place in your witchcraft and magic, but not as the only main character, but as one of the things that make up your craft; there is a sense of using them to live life on earth, so for example intuition or clairvoyant, but not things like mediumship; last but not least, we have the magician in reverse: the magician is the creator and in reverse it gives a sense of calm, of quietness, of enjoying your witchcraft not to get to a goal or to make something specific, but because it's a part of you and something that makes you feel good when you practice it; it's more for the process than the outcome and it makes me think that you may be more inclined to, for example, take a walk and connect with nature rather than do a money spell (ofc both can coexist too!); it really gives a vibe of being a witch, it's a part of you and you practice it to express yourself;

types of witches that come to my mind: with Aquarius eclectic witch for sure! But I think that there's also a strong possibility of folk witch, work with ancestors (Circe is, in a sense, an ancestor of modern witches) and why not with element earth

Read the second part of the reading here! tip jar

pile 2

[image description: pile 2 spread]

torch (illumination,hope, manifesting) + emerald (22) + capricorn (10) + 9 of swords in reverse

there are a few different energies at play here: the emerald is connected to the hearth chakra, to peace, to tranquility and balance, while the Capricorn is the stubborn sign, an earth sign that doesn't stop and keeps going for their path; in addition, we have the torch that, while being a card from the Spirit element, recalls also the fire; in a sense this spread could very well be fire energy: it can be a warm hearth of the home, but it can also be destructive; the torch also makes me thing that we're talking about a witchcraft that either is headed to long term (aka will become a stable part of your life) or may even come from a long term (aka you're not the first witch in your family); it reminds me of the olympic torch, that passes from hand to hand and it really makes me thing that your witchcraft may insert itself in a path that has already been walked for a long time (it can be a family witchcraft or also another type of path, for example a specific type of priestess or priest); it reminds me of a tradition that burns since the dawn of time; the emerald, we said it already, is connected to the heart chakra, which makes me think that your emotions will play a big role or that your craft will help you be more in touch and more aware of them - and create a healthy balance; there's also a bit of a slow life vibe, which can be expressed in this emerald in the sense of being the drastical opposite of stress; Capricorn, as we said, is strong energy, but in this spread it seems like it's one of the parts that healthily coexists with the others; it's the other side of the coin than the emerald, it's the energy that pushes you to go forward and to better yourself and your craft, it's the engine that doesn't let you stay still, but go forward, still with your own time and pace; the 9 of swords in reverse tells me a similar thing: you are the type of witch that's never satisfied, in the good way; i mean that you are probably a witch that may have a list of things you want to learn and once you'll have learned them, you'll want to keep learning and experimenting other things, keep going for the next step; it may be that for you your witchcraft is not as much as a part of your daily life as it is a special moment for yourself, to connect with yourself, your craft and maybe also your ancestors; it may very well be that this emerald is telling us that witchcraft can be a breath of fresh air and quiet joy in your (possibly) busy days!

types of witch that come to my mind: ancestral witch/working with ancestors, hearth witch

Read the second part of the reading here! tip jar

pile 3

[image description: pile 3 spread]

the mastiff (loyalty, ferocity, safety) + nightshade (illusion, deceit, delusion)+ nuummite (38)+ air (25)+ the hermit in reverse

you guys got two witch deck cards, they came out together so we will interpret them also together! your witchcraft seems very double sided, from the start we have a card from the fire element and one from the water, then we have the mastiff that has an energy of protection, of defending something or someone and on the other side the nightshade, with an energy of illusion, of beauty to attract in her deadly trap; i think that your magic is ambivalent, has two main cores, one about protection, that is defensive and works for the safety, maybe to help yourself, your loved ones or others or the world, then you also have a i would say almost vicious type: not really a harmful magic, but a magic that masks itself, maybe to appear less powerful, maybe to not attract people's eyes; i feel that you may be the one who walks around a city smirking to themselves because people who see you have no idea how many witchcraft things you have on yourself; put together these cards can give an idea of masking to protect yourself: you may be in the broom closet (always or in specific situations) and being defensive about your craft is a way to be able to keep enjoying it; then we have nuummite, which is a very rare crystal that takes their name from the old capital of greenland, Nuum (possibly unrelated to your magic, but I'm a history nerd lol); again we have a bit of two sides of the same stone: on one hand nuummite can promote growth and change, but on the other hand black crystals are also used for protection; this card feels like the crystal is suspended, like those gravitating lamps, and it makes me think of a very precise balance; as an element we have air (we do have fire and water too, but i feel like they jumped out more to represent the opposites than to represent the elements themselves!); the Air card has an energy of both openness, vasity and expansion and also of keeping an eye on things, as if it was an aeral view that can go wherever it wants and at the same time keeps track of what happens on the ground; we also have the hermit in reverse, which makes me think tha you may be a solitary witch, not really because you're looking for your dimension, but because you have found it in solitary practice; in general in this spread there is a sense of carefully curated privacy, that doesn't necessarily feels like hiding in fear, but hiding to protect something (your craft) that is special to you and that you enjoy at its best when it's just you and your magic

types of witch that come to my mind: hedge witch, as they are known for being solitary witches

Read the second part of the reading here! tip jar