#common and/or understandable nevertheless

[purecommemasolitude]

My one semi-controversial outsiders musical opinion that I will never budge on is that the S in Soda’s spelling of GREASE is “selective��. Almost everything else I will listen to alternate interpretations and readings but not this. Never this

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: nsfw, noncon, virginity loss, degradation, abuse of power, Christianity, blasphemy, medieval times, corrupt priest, torture devices, abuse, punishment, misogyny, public humiliation, execution of non-named characters

♡ FEM reader

A scold's bridle, sometimes called a witch's bridle, a gossip's bridle, a brank's bridle, or simply branks, is an instrument of mirror punishment utilized by the church to publicly humiliate women who speak out of turn.

And you’ve unfortunately been deemed one of them…

You can only regret it now—wish you’d kept your mouth shut—wish you’d just held your tongue and spared yourself the poetic justice. You’d even been warned—that’s the dumb part, the part that makes the regret even more bitter. You’d been told gossipping would only land you in a world of hurt, and you, brave-faced and foolish, had ignored the advice. And now you’re facing the consequences.

Branks, an awful contraption, act as a muzzle in an iron framework, caging the head—quite like a helmet—a heavy helmet. Tight and trapping, it’s enough to make your head ache after a mere minute of wear. But that’s not the worst part. No, the worst part is the bridle-bit—a metal wedge about two inches long and one inch wide in size, of which they slide into your mouth, pressing down on top of your tongue—silencing you entirely. 

But being unable to talk is only the first and least of many discomforts—as it also makes your jaw cramp up, and makes a humiliating amount of drool run wild down your chin—making you look like some or other rabid street mutt that’s ben muzzled for its own good.

The chunky metal collar you’re made to wear doesn’t help negate that imagery, nor does the bell attached to it—drawing in the crowds to the town square where you’ve been put on display, fastened to the tron for public judgment and ridicule.

Oh, and they are full of it today.

Standing there, an army of justice—warped faces and pointed fingers. The kids throw rotten fruit, and the elders fouler words—calling you a Jezebel. 

At least you’re not alone up there but sharing the burden with a handful of other miscreants. One’s bent over in the pillory beside you—another three stand next to him up on the gallows, shaking in their piss-soaked boots, noose loosely around their necks—soon-to-be hangmen. 

Thank God the worst things are thrown their way—at least they’ll be set free of it soon. 

The poor sinners hang there still as the sun starts to set and most of the crowd’s gone home for the day, crows picking at the jelly of their dead eyes while the town’s church officer leads you away by leash.

With your hands and arms bound behind your back, you stumble barefoot and gracelessly through the streets—yanked along all the way from the town square up the hill to the church at the top for your final ruling. 

You’re made to kneel on the cobblestone where the clergyman chains your iron collar to the wall.

You’d always pitied those put in the jougs, though you’d also thought them deserving—never knowing you’d be one of them someday. Now you know first-hand what being deserving means. In a town as small as this, where word travels as quickly as you can speak them, only a few ill thoughts will turn everyone against you.

Everything is in a state of discomfort, but at least you’ve finally escaped the town people’s heckling—now secluded in the peaceful quiet of God’s house to reflect in solitude. 

Or… at least, that’s the standard procedure for such offenses.

“Alright then, little magpie,” the church officer announces while unscrewing the cruel headpiece.

It’s surprising. You’d for sure thought he’d leave it on. It was your understanding that it’s common for the scold to wear the bridle until morning and only then be freed. 

But in any case, be it by pity or mercy, you’re ever grateful nevertheless and won’t complain. 

But then, promptly after freeing your mouth from the bit, the man takes hold of your exhausted jaw and gives you a grave warning in its replacement, “Speak out of turn again, and it will go back on for another day in the tron.”

Goosefleshed and ashen from the spoken threat, you do your best to abide by it and remain quiet like the other church mice.

To which the father hums pleasedly, “Nod your head for me if you understand now, magpie.”

You do, looking up at him obediently—hoping he’d see it as enough and deem your punishment fully served, maybe even remove your bonds and collar as well.

“Good.” 

He smiles knowingly, then drops your head. Scoffing loudly, “But of course… a bitch will always prefer being free from the muzzle… Don’t necessarily make ‘em well-behaved.”

You flinch at the words, eyes wide, looking up into his gaze, feeling small under the weight as he leers down his nose at you worse than that of the crowd earlier. 

But what really makes your stomach curl are his ringed hands and how they move to his robes.

“Let’s see if this newfound virtue of yours is true and not just another one of your brazen tricks, shall we?” he suggests, leisurely undoing the knots to his drapes.

“When I’m done, and if you have managed to hold your tongue, I’ll consider you disciplined enough to return home,” he explains, dropping his attire unceremoniously by his feet before taking hold of your chin again. “If not, the bridle will go back on, and we will continue the lesson in the morning and every day onward until your mouth is as honest as if in the confessional.”

Your eyes flicker between his and peaking forward, barely withstanding whimpering when laying your eyes on it—the thing below his belly nearing your face.

“Remember now, magpie, no making a sound—neither word nor moan. I want complete silence.” 

The grip on your chin tightens, and your eyes dart back up to his. 

“Now open that gossiping trap of yours and accept God’s judgment.” 

His other hand holds it in a gentler caress from your face, giving it a few languid rubs before knocking it against your sealed lips, ordering them to open. 

It shocks you—enough to have you swallow a gasp—almost making an illicit sound that would all but seal your fate with the scold’s bridle for another day of suffering.

“Did you not hear me, girl? I said–” Impatient and roughened by his anger, he lets go of your jaw and deals a sharp blow to your cheek next. “Open your no-good sinning mouth!” 

The hand goes to your hair next, tangling within the tousled locks to give your scalp a hard tug.

Again you’re in danger of making a sound but manage to stifle it by screwing your eyes shut—quickly baring your tongue for the priest and pliantly accepting the salty offering placed upon it soon after as if receiving communion on any other Sunday mass.

“That’s it, magpie—” he says then, softer now in praise. “No more tall tales, no more nagging.” His grip eases up but remains to hold you steady as he slowly and rightfully slides his length down to the very back of your throat. Groaning, “Just be a good girl, now. Close your lips around me and suck—and you’ll soon be forgiven.”

You obey, locking your lips around him, tasting the sweat and tang, withstanding gagging as you force yourself into suckling and swallowing the foreign flavors down. 

“Good. You see?” he sighs out in a groan, pleased while fucking your mouth. 

Tangling both hands in your disheveled hair, he sets a rhythm of pulling you away and reeling you back in close—a tempo more than fair for an amateur throat like yours—only just deep and fast enough to make his weighty balls swing and graze your chin on every thrust. 

“If all a woman does is run ‘er mouth—only using it to bitch and moan—they’ll never learn what it’s truly good for,” he gruffs, sinking deeper and settling there, holding your skull in place from pulling back. “But I’ll show yah—don’t worry.”

Your head soon heats up—bleeding red and thick with it—feeling tight and trapped and in dire desperate need to draw air—or at the very least, make some sort of discomforted sound in lack of it—yet under strict order to remain deadly silent. 

“Good god, girl—I’m going all the way down that tight, hot guzzle—” he drawls, bullying deeper—and deeper. Hissing as he bottoms out, “Just the way God intended!”

His hips stutter, wearing your throat like a holster—lips stretched around his fat shaft, kissing his pubes with your nose buried in his well-fed belly.

With eyes rolling back beneath tightly shut lids, seeing spots of light in the enclosing void, you can’t help but flinch when hit with the glob of spit that falls and splatters between your brows. But at least the laughter that echoes throughout the church hall drowns out the sound of your heaving for air once he finally pulls out and frees your throat.

Maintaining a fist in your hair, he keeps you close—your temple to his hip, nose-kissing his strung shaft—struggling to catch your breath while his chuckles die down into humored hums.

“I’ve never had a throat that deep before,” he scoffs with a cruel smile—yanking your hair once again, pulling it back to make you face up. “One might call it witchcraft.” 

Another hard slap is dealt in the same spot as earlier. 

“Are you a witch maybe, magpie?” 

And a third smack. 

“Do I haf’to tie you to the stake next—have ourselves a roast?

Feeling your cheek sting white-hot, you shake your head—fighting to keep your whimpers at bay as silent tears dampen your cheeks—puffing up and rushing with blood post-strike, dulling to a numb yet lingering ache.

He doesn’t show mercy. Instead, it seems the pitiful display only makes him more rowdy—shoving you down to the cold cobblestone with an evil gleam in his eyes.

“Then let’s see you praise the Father,” he barks. “Bow and kiss his holy floor. I’ll judge whether you're a witch or not.”

You’re leash only barely gives you enough leeway to lower yourself. Hands remaining bound up tight behind your back, balled up and shaking in their knots as you bend over until your lips brush the dusty church stone.

“No, not a witch… but—” he hums, though not entirely convinced yet. “A true Christian would savor the taste of God's house.”

Your brows cinch, but you still do as suggested—producing your tongue and dragging it across the filthy tile—collecting dry silt and larger grains of sand—leaving behind a darkened wet trail on the otherwise ashen rock.

“That’s it, magpie,” the clergyman croons with a sneer. “Put that gossipping little tongue of yours to better use.”

You obey, eyes closed, continuing to lick the floor like a dog—fearing worse things would come if you didn’t. Wanting it all to be over and figuring if you just listen, it’ll be done quicker and as pain-free as you could hope.

“But do you deserve it?” he asks then, after a pause of watching you with his cock in hand, tugging it with raspy breaths getting rustier—continuing with a gritty tone, “An unwed woman can only serve the lord if she’s pure.”

His other hand returns to your hair for a third time, pulling you up by the tresses in a stinging grip.

“Are you pure, magpie?”

Goosefleshed by his darkened tone, you cower under his pointed glare. Keenly nodding your head as much as his hand allows.

Still, he doesn’t seem convinced. Huffing, “We’ll see.” 

He drops you again. Now, with a new order, “Turn and bow with your tongue back on the floor.”

You do as he says, though shakily. Gut folding and churning within—throat tight, even under the metal collar, snaring—making your head pound with alarm as you shift on your knees until you’re facing the wall with your back to him, lowering your head down until your swollen cheek neatly squish against the cool stone—tongue splayed out on the earthy rock once again—with your rear raised for the priest’s inspection.

Your nails sink into your palms in the same painful crescents as before while the clergyman lifts your greyed and tattered frock like he’s unveiling a blushing bride—and, similarly to the groom, throws the skirt atop your sloped back, bunched up with the rest of your dirtied dress—leaving your legs and thighs and ass bare to his preying eyes.

He rumbles heavily, pleased by the sight of your pretty little virgin cunt—quivering in the crude and callous open air.

Crouched behind you in perfect level with it, you can all but feel his eager leer rake through you before his finger does—slicing through your pussy-lips and quickly disappearing inside your formerly untouched hole.

You flinch, squirming at the unfamiliar feeling—breaths damp against the ground as you await the verdict.

“It’s tight,” he grumbles, assessing you with a knuckle-deep digit, before scoffing, “But surely… no true virgin is this wet.”

Your eyes widen at the accusation, and he slips his finger out again and stands up with a sigh, “I can’t make sure with a finger alone.”

Then suddenly, he grabs onto of your hanches and lifts your hips higher until your thighs straighten up—and promptly lays his still-hard and hot-blooded member to rest between the cheeks. With his knees bent, a toppling tower over you, he slides through the crevice, rubbing upon your scrunched asshole as he does.

You stir for the first time, but his hold tightens in turn.

“Keep that tongue out, magpie. And don’t you dare make a single sound, y’hear? Or else the branks go back on.”

You fall still—scared in place—eyes screwed shut as his cock falls from the peak of your ass down to your glistened entrance, prodding the small opening with the tip, trying to force it inside, but kept at bay until the narrow ring of muscle finally gave and allowed him to tear through.

“Wheew—undoubtedly a virgin!” he whistles with his head gaining purchase. Groaning at the close fit. “Taut and tight and sensitive—and just perfect for taking seed.”

Meanwhile, you suck in a gasp—tongue still pinned to the floor—only barely managing to suppress the cry that had wanted to follow. 

Choking it down, you nurse yourself through it with a string of deep breaths instead—even as he starts prying further inside—letting your cunt hold the head as he gives it shallow digs, working you open to take his full length.

“That’s it—good magpie,” he moans, pulling you back on his cock by your hips, treading you on like a sleeve. “Take it deep.”

He starts thrusting, and your breath weakens into thin stutters—tongue hanging limply from your mouth all on its own. Eyes glazed, looking toward nothing—rocked steadily as the corrupt priest pounds you like a cheap whore—sore cheek scraping against the stone floor. 

And still, you’re silent—as if having taken a vow.

The only sounds echoing throughout the church are the clergyman’s grunts and the steady fwop fwop fwop of his balls clapping your sopping cunt—almost reminiscent of the church bell’s clangoring.

“Almost there now, magpie,” he chimes from above. “Milk my cock and take my seed in your womb, and you’re forgiven.”

It almost sounds too good to be true. Even as everything aches and you’ve become certain you might just remain mute forever onward, the thought of freedom is enough to bring new hopeful tears to your pitiful eyes. So, as the warmth of his release soils your inside, it’s also joined by overwhelming relief.

A moment or more passes. You don’t take your tongue off the floor, and he remains above you, pumping his load into your deep, dumping it all at depth as if burying some dirty secret. 

At some point, he pulls out—cock now sluggish and spent. You feel its spillage matte on the inside of your thighs—also hidden as he drapes your skirt back in place.

Unbothered with his own clothes, he stands there before your bowed body—now with an accent of full-bellied satisfaction as he pronounces you free of sin in bad Latin—crossing his chest and kissing his knuckle before looking up to the ceiling at the God you’d grown sure he didn’t even believe in.

“Rejoice, magpie,” he mocks while leaning over you to untie your hands. “You’re now free to go.”

But as you lift your head, he still holds out on removing your collar. 

Holding your chin instead, he looks down at you like before, saying, “But it would do you good to remember…” His free hand taps your cheek, softer now but hard enough to make you cringe. “You run that bitch mouth again, and in my church on your knees is where you’ll end up. Understand?”

And just like before, you nod your head for him—still as silent as a church mouse eager to escape the beast’s ugly jaws.

He seems pleased with that and gives you a crooked smile, purring, “Good.” 

He then fishes the keys to your collar from his heaped robes and, at long last, unlocks it from your throat.

And by God, as you wobble out of the church, it feels as if you've been let free from hell.

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[dark-night-hero]

"So it's true! You and her- Guizhong were a thing. Then what the hell does that make me Morax?!" "Can you just drop it of? We're in a hurry." He was tired. And their friend was in danger. "No! Knowing you'll be out there to save your other lover, tell me the truth Morax! Is it true?!" It was the same topic of argument for some time now. He had been denying it over and over again, he just cannot seem to understand why you kept insisting even after hearing him say that was not the case. And he was getting tired of it.

Guizhong was just a friend and that very same friend is now in danger if they do not arrive at rhe right time and here he is getting hold up because of your questions. And knowing you would not let him go even if he were to deny it because that was the truth. Maybe he should give in for now to avoid further more questioning and leave as fast as he can so he could come back to you in now time, knowing that he could easily resolve the misunderstanding and his lies. "You know what. It's true. Now if you just get out of the way, I need to save her." "Wha-what? Wa-wait! Morax-!"

He did not mean to be harsh than he already is. He was just mad, mad because he saw no reason why you should get jealous of a friend, a common friend of yours. Mad because he was running late and a little more than to it could possibly result the death of a dear friend. At the same time, he was mad at himself for leaving that way. But he knew he could always explain when he came back into you. The two of you could always sort it out after the battle like you two always does.

So why? So why in the world- celestia were everything was on fire. And you were in the middle of it, leaning on your weapon for support, blood running down all the way from your temple into your chin. It was not just that. You are bleeding, bleeding all over. Why. Why why why why why? Just what the hell happened in here?

"Don't come." You utter, despite the fact that you could barely stand, you painfully look forward to your lover... heh, can he still be called a lover when he already admitted that he betrayed you? "Some..." you pant. "Some beings came into the city while you were away... hahh, I manage to defend the city until all the people manage to flee but- cough! Hahh, the god manage to escape."

"No. No no no no no." It was getting hard to breathe, nevertheless you should see Morax from afar, running towards you. "Bastard- I told you not to come he-!" You stagger forward, for a moment losing consciousness, still, you embrace yourself with the thought of you hitting the ground. But you never did.

"Let go." "It was a lie. There was no one else." "Morax- I said-" "I was in a hurry, I did not mean to say those words. Guizhong was only a friend. Believe me. God- Celestia. There is no one else. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Please don't leave me." He was hugging, cradling you in his arms. His tears rolling down his cheeks, into your own but you were feeling quite numb to notice that.

"It's..." You tried to hold up a hand but you could only feel the pain and the more it drains you. In the end you could only hold on into his arm. "It's okay... you don't have to lie to make me... feel better." You tried to smile to make him feel better, so why does it look like he was about to lose his whole world? "No. No please. It's nothing like that. I was a fool, I am a fool. Please believe me there is no one else but you. (First name). Please."

You knew he was talking, you can see him talking despite how things were slowly starting to go blurr, you can hear a few words but cannot seemed to focus on it when there is a high pitched ring that makes you unable to focus on what he was saying. Also, "It's cold." You mumble, fighting everything you can to stay conscious.

"Fuck!" Morax can feel your body slowly but surely cooling down. Suddenly his heart dropped as he panicked, he was getting anxious. He felt fear for the first time in his life. "Hold on, please hold on." He tried, he tried his best to fix you with his powers but it was no avail. You have so many wounds, you have already lost a lot of blood. You were dying all ago. "Fuck." He cursed once again. "Fuck, fuck! I told you to hold on (First name)!" He was getting mad again.

Morax felt like he was going mad, he felt like he was about to get crazy. Specially when he saw you starting to close your eyes. He felt a shiver down his spine. "Don't you dare close your eyes (First name)!" Not like this, not when you seemed to sure that he never loved- love you. "Fuck!" His amber iris were glowing with that presence of a dragon. "Don't you dare fell asleep (First name). I'm begging you please-?" He felt a light squeeze on his arm.

"Its.. okay." Taking your last breath, Morax felt the heavy weight of your now dead body in his arms. Your hand falling to your side as your head rest in his chest. At that very moment a rain drop fell from the sky, Morax arms were trembling yet still manage to pull you closer to him as if trying to find a little warmth. "Hah, hahaha. HAHAHAHAHAHA."

That day, the dragon lost his mate. His one and only mate as his anguish cries were heard all throughout their land.

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2024°

: bye, may klase pa ko ng alas quatro sa hapon.

: Also, why is it always zhongli who become the victim of my angst ideas. Tho I might make a same promt with ???

[mariasont]

Training Day - A.H

a/n: you all wanted more bimbo!assistant!reader and i'm a woman of the people so here we are

on a real note i love her and she is my queen

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader

summary: you don't understand why hotch is giving you training lessons, but apparently he thinks you need it

warnings: talking about men following her in public YUCK, hotch trying to train reader, reader not knowing what's going on, cuties being cute

wc: 0.8k

"I still don't really know why we're doing this."

You were grumbling more than was characteristic for you, with every part of your body, your arms, your legs, and even your ass, suffering from a dull ache--sadly, not the result of any enjoyable pastime. After being knocked over more times than you cared to count, Hotch extended his hand toward you. You gladly took it, letting him pull you to your feet.

Your fingers deftly pulled at your pink tracksuit top over the sliver of abdomen that that had been revealed in your less-than-graceful take down. Hotch had pointed out the impracticality of your outfit when you showed up, but you stood firm on the principle that if early training sessions were expected of you, then your attire would be non-negotiable.

"Because I want to be confident in your abilities to defend yourself." His arms folded over his chest as his gaze bore into you, challenging you to contradict him.

"I'm just here to look pretty and answer your phones, crime-fighting isn't in my job description. That's your thing, Mr."

You shuffled back to your original position anyway, hands coming up to shield your face as you mentally sorted through the steps, or at least tried to, struggling to recall the correct foot placement.

"Shoulder width apart."

It's like he could read your mind. You were not entirely convinced that he couldn't.

"Crime-fighting doesn't have to be your thing," Hotch stated, narrowing the gap between you, his hands firmly correcting your stance. You sometimes found an excuse to stand just so, hoping he would step in to manhandle you into place. "But being part of the BAU, even peripherally, means you're not immune to risks. I need to know you can handle yourself... for my piece of mind."

"Sir, is this like, your super-secret way of showing you care?"

Your lips twisted into a half-smile as his hands clasped your waist a little tighter than necessary: a warning that said you were playing with fire. His fingers then moved to direct yours, positioning them closer to your face, his knuckles lightly grazing across your cheek in the process.

"Eyes on me, stay focused."

"My eyes are always on you, sir," you say, your head canting to one side. 

He released a controlled breath, giving you a level look that signaling you were pushing it. Nevertheless, you flashed him a beaming smile and initiated the move he had been drilling into you. The tip of your elbow made contact with the soft of his stomach.

He issued a muted groan as he intercepted your arm, preventing it from digging further, and in a fluid motion he spun you around, pinning your backside to his front.

"That was perfect, right?" you squealed, your fist shooting up in victory.

The sudden jump caused his hands to shift from your arm, finding a new perch on your hips to steady your... enthusiastic bounce.

You whirled in his grasp, the proximity sending a faint hum through his chest. Clearing his throat, he managed. "Yes, uh, that was it."

Clutching his shirt, the fabric crumpled beneath your purple-tipped fingers, you giggled. "Just imagine someone trying to follow me to my car now. They wouldn't know what hit 'em!"

"Is that a common occurrence?" The lines of his face gathered into that customary look of concern, that characteristic frown of his making an appearance.

He gently disentangled your hands from his shirt, not letting go, but rather laying his atop of yours.

"Well, sometimes, but I usually just call Morgan, put him on speaker, and he starts talking about the FBI stuff," you explained, giving a light shrug that nudged the zipper of your jacket down just a smidge. "They take off after that."

He clenched his eyes shut, pausing momentarily before reopening it. One hand let go of yours to adjust the zipper back to its proper position.

"That makes my stomach hurt." And it did. "Don't hesitate to call me when that happens. I'll come get you."

Your smile stretched ear to ear, potent enough to make him feel lightheaded. "You know, with all these trainings, who needs to call for help?"

"How about we compromise, and you still call me, regardless?"

You pout your lips, shiny with clear gloss rather than your usual pink. "That sounds less like a compromise and more like a you thing, ya know?"

Hotch's laughter rumbled from his chest, a warm, breathy sound, as he let go of your hands, which he realized he had been holding far longer than appropriate, and guided you to the door.

"You don't appreciate the added precautions I'm willing to take for your safety?"

Dragging your sneaker on the floor, you plucked your bag from the wall as Hotch closed the door behind you. "Gee, when you say it like that..."

When you walked down the hall you seemed to be perfectly in step.

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna @readergf @sarcasm-and-stiles @edencherries @aurorsworld @princess76179 @malindacath @freyy253 @broadwaytraaaaash @sunfyyre @sleepysongbirdsings @trulycayla @sarcasm-and-stiles

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[missadangel]

The Heart of Rome (Marcus Acacius x OC)

All Chapters List

XVI. Separation and Triumph (+18, Smut, MDNI)

"Amor vincit omnia."

Love conquers all.

“Domina!”

They called out to you cheerfully as you got out of the carriage and ran towards Norell and Decima. They were running towards you too. You embraced them with tears in your eyes and walked into the courtyard together. Marcus noticed Octavius, who was waiting at the entrance with a smile on his face. He was the one who took care of everything until your arrival. Marcus tapped his friend on the shoulder and invited him inside. You saw Tullia in the courtyard, gave her a hug too. Even though she was a bit hesitant due to respect as was her custom, she hugged you back.

Everyone was delighted to be home. That evening, you suggested having dinner together in the courtyard, with everyone else included. This was definitely the first time anyone had seen an evening like this in the villa. It was certainly not a common occurrence in other villas or houses in Rome. However, the slaves were still shy, understandably so, given the unusual situation. If they told anyone on the street, it is likely that no one would believe them. Nevertheless, it was true. You saw them as family, not just as slaves, and they had a lot of respect and admiration for you.

On that particular evening, you managed to surprise Marcus once more. He was continually amazed at your capacity for compassion, and mercy. Throughout the meal, he was unable to take his eyes off you. He thought you were so stunning that it felt as if you could only be a dream yet you were there, by his side. You were a blessing to him, not just a person, a miracle that he woke up to every morning.

After dinner, you checked out the renovated and refurbished parts of the villa together. The courtyard was bigger and there was a private resting area right next to the fountain. It also seemed like a great spot for when you have guests over too. You headed back to your chambers as it was getting dark. You were really pleased with the new look of your room. Marcus's armour and other dangerous items were taken to the next room. A small mattress and a closet were added. This wasn't the only change.

The bed was wider and more comfortable, with drapes and a canopy. The tulle around the bed was tied with ribbons and had floral ornaments. It was clear that it had been prepared carefully. The rest of the room was pretty much the same, with the desk, small dining table, and clothes section. As your belly was getting bigger every day, your old tunics were a bit tight, especially at the waist. While Marcus took off his red shawl, you checked the measurements of all your tunics. It was clear that you wouldn't fit into any of them soon.

Marcus took off his belt and looked you over from head to toe. "If you're not sure what to wear, I can give you some advice."

You smiled without looking at him. “I already know what you're going to say."

“Are you reading my mind?” He asked. "Well..." He was moving slowly towards you. “What is on my mind at the moment, princess?” He wrapped his arms around you. It was pretty obvious what he was thinking, given that you could feel him right behind your hips. You turned your head and touched his nose with yours.

“I think, you want me?”

“That's so true.” His thick fingers ran through your hair and inhaled your scent. “So, where do I want you? Any guesses?”

"Hmm, on our new bed?"

He turned you around and put his hands on your hips, making you gasp. “And right beneath me.” He said, breathing heavily.

You threw your arms around his neck and looked into his eyes, your heart racing with excitement. "Should I tell you where I want you, too?"

He smirked, leaned in and kissed the tip of your nose. "Tell me, my love." Another kiss on the corner of your lips. "Where do you want me?" One more kiss on your neck. "Say it." and another kiss, this time on the collarbone, sending shivers of delight down your spine with each warm kiss.

You pulled his head closer and whispered in his ear with a seductive smile on your lips. "I want you deep inside me."

And before you knew it, you were in his arms, gasping as the ground gave way beneath your feet.

"Whatever my princess wants." He said as he carried you to the bed. You crawled across the middle of the bed. "At your service, my lady." He grinned and you swayed a little with the jolt of his weight as he crawled onto the bed towards you.

"I realise the bed is bigger now, was that necessary?" You asked, your voice filled with playful teasing.

Marcus gripped the hem of your tunic as you ran your hand along the silk sheet, his eyes sparkling with desire.

"You didn't like it? I thought we might be able to move on the wide bed more easily." He said, helping you out of the tunic and taking you by the waist. He pulled you in closer and together you rolled to the other side of the bed, with you now on top of him. "Like this, for instance. Or..." He grabbed you again and this time you rolled to the other end of the bed. This time he was on top of you. "Like this."

You giggled. "I think I understand your point." You reached out your arms to remove his tunic, and once he was free of it, he grasped your legs and drew you closer to him. His gaze shifted from humorous to predatory as he gazed at your exposed body. You felt like his prey, and your heart beat faster as his eager hands slid slowly from your ankles to your legs and then to your thighs. Marcus pressed his lips hungrily against yours and tension hummed between the two of you as your lips touched. 

Tasting the wine he'd just drunk and rolled your tongue around his. You were holding back a little from drinking wine since you were carrying a child, but you realised that you missed the taste. Your enthusiastic movements in his mouth had only served to heighten his arousal. He was filled with excitement and pleasure, an interesting mix that would lead to him taking you roughly. He rubbed his need against your pearl, you were slick as he teased your entrance with the smooth wide tip of his length. He kissed you as he pushed himself inside you. The two of you moaned into the kiss, you were mewling as his length hit your inner back wall. Backing off the kiss to let you catch your breath, he then began to pull out and thrust back into you. Your tight wet warmth surrounded him as he thrust and pulled inside you. He held your hands in his own, pinning you to the bed as he kept thrusting his hips back and forth, slowly picking up speed. Rolling his hips in that way he knew you loved, the two of you started panting and moaning louder.

"Marcus," you said breathlessly. "Deeper, please."

"As you wish, my love." He hummed.

You gasped as you felt him lift your legs up to get a more direct angle into you. His hips picked up speed, driving into you harder. Your legs dangled in the air as he pounded into you, and you moaned loudly. He set one of your legs back down, straightening up his back as he lifted the other one over his shoulder. Your hips began bucking in time with his own. You looked at him, staring into his dark brown eyes as felt some kind of raw wave of pleasure course through your body. Setting your leg back down, he resumed his earlier stance over you, his one arm grabbed you around the waist. You knew from that move that he was close, so you were. His mouth found yours once more. You moaned into his mouth, lost in the mess of love and pleasure you two shared.

"What do you want me to do now, my love?" He asked huskily. He could feel himself beginning to tighten up as his body built up to release.

"Fill me in…” You panted. “With your love,” your breath hit against his collarbone which spurred his on, making him thrust harder and harder into you. Your legs wrapped around his hips, your arms following suit around his back to pull him closer. His chest pressing against your breasts, he gave several more hard thrusts before finally stopping. You both hit your climaxes at once, he was filling you with his seed, and you could feel it all build up within you as you rode your own pleasure out. He kissed your breasts as he felt your rapid heart racing against your ribcage.

After a few minutes, your breath began to settle. Marcus leaned in and kissed you. One of your hands moved up to behind his head, while the other ran his back up and down. When he pulled out of you and broke the kiss, you let out another moan. He looked down and smiled to see some of his seed trickling out of you. You rolled over, and he rested his head on the pillow while you curled into him to listen to his heartbeat slow down. You ran your fingers over his bare chest while you were at it. You lay there for what seemed like an eternity, lost in your bliss. His scent on your skin, the taste of him in your mouth and his warm seed still floating in the very center of your womanhood, all of it show that you were conquered by him. You smiled to yourself, feeling a sense of belonging to him in every part of your body. He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer, then drew the silk sheets up, covering you both. Your eyelids were already closing as you rested your head on his chest, feeling safe and loved. The last thing you felt before drifting off to sleep was his lips moving slowly over your head.

The sun came up over the horizon in a beautiful, graceful arc, bathing the sky in a kaleidoscope of colours as the day began. The villa was illuminated by the sun's rays, which brought about a striking contrast to the previous days' gloom. The villa had been quite deserted, ruined and abandoned in the past few days. However, as of this morning, it was evident that it was waking up to better days than its former ones, as sounds began to spread out of its courtyard. The sense of comfort and peace at leaving those difficult days behind was starting to spread throughout this large house.

The same tranquil atmosphere was also present in your bedroom. The mornings you woke up in the villa were quite noisy but peaceful and full of life, unlike the ones at Domus Severiana, which were boring, quiet and full of intrigue. You smile as you listen to all those sounds you've missed. The cheerful rooster, the birds singing outside the window, the light footsteps coming from the courtyard, indicating the slaves were getting started with their day, and of course, the breathing of the man you loved lying next to you. You wanted to enjoy these morning sounds for a while longer, but as soon as you felt Marcus's warm lips on your sternum, you opened your eyes.

Looking down, you noticed his grey curly hair, and reach out to run your fingers through it. He looked up at you with a mischievous expression on his face.

"Morning," you said, yawning.

"Morning indeed. Since my sun rose from her sleep now." He kissed your chin and made you giggle. Your heartbeat quickened as his lips traveled down from your chin to your neck and down to your collarbone. You slid your fingers from his hair to the nape of his neck. He propped himself up on his elbow on the bed and slowly slid the back of his hand from between your breasts to your navel, pulling down the sheet covering your body to expose your entire body. His hasty lips met yours and he ran a hand over your knees, slipping his fingers between them as you immediately spread your legs for him. It was your body's classic response to his magic touch. A little hastily he grabbed your hips and pulled you closer. Positioning himself between your legs and fondling your entrance with his thick fingers, you bit your lower lip in pleasure.

"Hmm, so ready for me," he grinned then he slid his length deep inside you, making you moan loudly. You watched him as he licked your wetness off his thumb, then his lips, relishing every second of the taste. He then leaned towards you and met your mouth again. The gentle breeze from the window blew the tulle around the bed towards you, but you were too caught up in the moment to pay attention to it. You wrapped your arms tightly around his neck as he made glorious thrusts into your most sensitive spot, taking you to the heights of raw pleasure.

He pulled his hips back and grabbed yours just as he was coming out of you, adjusted himself, and thrust again, this time going deeper inside you. This sends waves of pleasure through your body with each movement. You were on the brink, teetering dangerously close to the edge. Your fingers scratching around his neck was driving him wild. Suddenly he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you roughly to him and sat on his heels on the bed. As you wrapped your legs around his waist, a wave of mind-blowing pleasure swept over your whole body. You felt like you were seeing your surroundings in a yellowish filter, and you were sure it wasn't the sunlight filtering into the room. As you let out a loud moan, he buried his head in your collarbone and let out a roar against your neck, sucking and nibbling at your flesh as you felt him bless you with his hot liquid. You both stayed like that for a while with your eyes closed, panting. As your breathing settled down, you could hear the sounds from outside again which brought you back to reality. He put his forehead against yours, you opened your eyes, you giggled at each other and then he laid you back down.  He slowly came out of you, and you made a sound like mewling. He smirked and kissed your cheek. You watched as he picked up his white tunic from the floor and put it on, waiting for your breathing to return to normal. He got out of bed and walked to the door, ordering the slaves to bring breakfast for you. Then he approached you and pulled the sheet over your body.

"Get some rest until breakfast arrives, my love," he smiled, turned, and walked over to his desk.

You sat up in bed to see what he was doing. He sat down and took some papers from the drawer.

"I suppose the General of Rome doesn't get much rest."

He replied with a smile as he picked up his quill and dipped it into the ink. "I need to let my legates and the legion in the south know what's been going on recently."

"I see. Then you will go to the Field of Mars to send the message, won't you?" You asked.

"Yes, my lady. I will." He replied as he wrote it.

You got out of bed and went to the closet to get some clean clothes. He gave you a quick glance as you wore your cream tunic. Then you slowly approached Marcus. You sat down in the chair opposite his desk and picked up the seal of Legion III with the Pegasus symbol on it. He looked at you and sighed.

"But it's so hard," he murmured. You looked at him, not understanding what he meant. "I can't concentrate with you sitting across from me, looking so beautiful.”

Your cheeks flushed and put your hand over your face. "Should I cover my face like this then?"

He smiled, "Give me a minute," he said before writing the last line and rolling the paper. Then he took your hand, and placed a kiss on it. "Do you want to seal it?"

"Can I really do it?"

"Of course you can, my love." Without letting go of your hand, he made you walk around the table and sat you on his lap. He broke a small piece of sealing wax that he placed in a spoon put above the flame of the oil lamp. While he waited for it to melt, he looked at you, locking his eyes on yours. But he didn't seem to notice that his hand had slipped touching the flame.

"Marcus, you're going to burn your hand," you said anxiously, grabbing his hand. But he was still looking at you, with those brown eyes. "I'm already burning," he said in a deep voice. "And your hair is my fire," His fingers ran through your hair. "Your love is driving me mad. I can't take my eyes off you."

You smiled and kissed him softly on the lips. He kissed you back passionately. He then poured the melting wax on the place where he had closed the letter, took your hand that was holding the seal and guided you to press the seal.

“Why Pegasus?” You asked.

He turned your hand so that you were both looking at the seal now. “It's because, he is primarily associated with bravery, success in battle, protection, duty, and commitment. He was also born from Medusa's blood.” He explained and kissed your palm, then your wrist, your arm, and your shoulder, which made you laugh. And then he kissed your lips, but the kiss was interrupted by a knock at the door.

That was Norell. She'd brought your breakfast to the room with a smile. You smiled back and had a quick chat then she left the room. After breakfast, you helped Marcus get dressed. As he did yesterday, he was going to wear his white tunic today. You placed the red shawl over his shoulders and fastened it with a big brooch pin at the collar. Then you left the room together and went downstairs. You saw Octavius and Decima chatting at the entrance to the courtyard. He wasn't wearing his armour today either. They both noticed you and nodded. Then he went to the stables to get the horses.

"Is Cato still in the Field of Mars?" you asked Marcus, as you both looked after Octavius.

Yes, he's with the other wounded soldiers. I've given them all the day off today. I might be back early this evening since there won't be any training."

"Are they going to be alright?"

"Hope so. We've got five medici there. I'm not sure if they're as good as you, though." He gave a little smile.

"I can come and check them if you need me."

His expression suddenly changed. "You want me to take you among hundreds of men? Not a chance." His voice was firm.

You rolled your eyes. He took your hand, and his expression softened as he looked into your eyes. "You're my medicus, so you can only heal me."

"But that seems a little selfish, General."

"I'm a bit selfish when it comes to you," he said with a little smile.

You gave him a smile in return.

Then you heard a horse neigh, and you both looked in that direction. Marcus's face lit up when Octavius brought Dromos over to him. Marcus stepped towards him and Dromos reared up and let out a loud whinny.

"I missed you too, old friend," said Marcus, stroking his face. Then he got on his horse, grabbed the reins, looking at you. "My lady, I'm leaving now."

"Come back safe." You said, waving your hand.

He nodded with a smile and gave Dromos a nudge forward. Octavius mounted his horse too, and nodded to you before riding after him. As they rode away, their long red shawls fluttered gently in the wind, mixed with the dust from the roadway.

That afternoon, when you were sitting in the courtyard with Decima and Norell, you talked about all the things that had transpired. You also talked about what Caracalla did, how Flavius came close to killing you, and how Macrinus almost caused disaster in Rome. They also told you about the days they spent as were detained and imprisoned. You felt a little down as you talked about those unfortunate days.

"Fortunately, your child is really strong," Decima said, putting her hand on your belly. You put your hand on hers and smiled at her.

"He's as strong as his father," Norell said, smiling.

You exhaled. "Oh, how I've missed talking to you, girls! I've really missed sitting together like this with you."

"We've missed you too," Decima said.

"We have been hoping and praying for your wellbeing and that of the child, as well as the general’s."

“Domina!”

You looked at the slave who was calling out to you and smiled. "I even missed you calling me out in this way," you said, laughing. The girls joined in with your laughter. But when you saw the slave's smile fade, yours did too.

"Is something wrong?"

"A carriage just arrived."

You raised your eyebrows. "Or is it my brother?"

The slave shook his head as no. You frowned and stood up.

And then two women you had never seen before entered the courtyard, one of whom appeared to be quite elderly, while the other seemed to be of a similar age to you. You could tell from their clothes that they weren't just ordinary people. Before you even had a chance to ask anything, they both looked at you with surprise and then the older woman came over to you with her arms outstretched and gave you a hug. Then the other woman gave you a hug too. Decima Norell and the other slaves in the courtyard were looking at you with curious eyes.

The older woman stepped back and looked you in the face. She was crying and sobbing, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Aurelia Marciana! You have grown into a beautiful young lady! I am so pleased to see you are alive! My sweet and lovely niece!" She touched your hair gently, her eyes brimming with tears.

You were taken aback. "You referred to me as your niece?" 

She nodded. "I am Antonia Marciana, your mother Paccia Marciana's sister."

"You... are... my aunt?" Your voice cracked. You didn't even know you had a relative on your mother's side – it was a complete surprise.

"I am, my dear. This is my daughter Paulina here, your cousin," the woman next to her took your hand and you smiled at her. "As soon as we heard that you were alive, we set off for Rome, but unfortunately, we learned that our relatives including your father's, had been killed by your half-brother, so we decided to head back. Fortunately, that tyrant is dead so we were able to come here to meet you."

You wiped away your tears and invited them to have a seat. "I imagine you've had quite a journey. I'll get them to prepare you some food." You said, and looked at Decima and Norell who nodded and made their way to the kitchen.

"It was a long journey indeed. My feet are a bit worn out from carrying my old body," Antonia said as she sat down on the lectus with her daughter's help. "You really look just like her, your mother. My poor sister left us before she had enough of you. She loved you so much. You were everything to her."

As she talked about your mother, you started to cry again, your heart ached.

“Even it was not enough, we thought we had lost you. All of your relatives, myself included, grieved for many years thanks to your father. But thank the Gods you are alive now. Is it true you've been in Egypt all this time?" She held out her hand to you, beckoning you to come over.

You sat down next to her and cleared your throat before answering. "Yes, I lived there without even knowing who I was."

"Septimus, that cruel man. I'll never forgive him for sending you away like that. I think it was all down to his new wife and his spoilt sons. After your mother passed away, I wanted to take you with me to Leptis Magna, but your father wouldn't let me." She took your hand in hers.  "But somehow you ended up back in Rome. I'm relieved that those brothers of yours didn't do anything to you. We were surprised to learn that you were here and not in the palace, and we were even more surprised and worried when we heard that you were wed. We would have loved to make it to the wedding, but it seems it all rather quickly." She said as if she was asking you.

You gave a little smile. "It all happened pretty quickly yes, but it's great that you're here now. I'm really pleased to meet you."

They smiled back in return. The slaves brought the food to the table and left. Your aunt leaned in, and held your hand.

"Aurelia, dear, I was a bit concerned when I heard you'd wed a soldier, a Roman General." She spoke in a low voice, almost as if she were whispering. “Or did those evil twins force you to wed him? What was his name again?"

"General Acacius," you said at once. "But no, not them. I wanted to wed the general of my own free will.”

Your aunt pursed her lips. "I mean, you're a princess after all. Besides, I heard that he's a bit old for you."

"Mother, please," Paulina said with a little whine.

She ignored her. "Is he kind to you? I'd love to know if he's a good husband. Does he fulfill all your needs?"

Your cheeks flushed. "Um, yes, aunt Antonia. He's a kind person and a great husband. I am beyond happy with him. Besides, age is just a number, isn't it?"

"Oh, your eyes just light up when you talk about him. Right, Paulina?"

"Indeed mother. I get the impression that she is very much in love with her husband." She said with a warm smile.

You smiled back, blushing again.

"I'm so delighted to see you happy, my dear." She said sincerely. "Now, I'm relieved."

While you were answering their questions about your marriage, they ate their meal. You were somewhat taken aback at how swiftly you became accustomed to them, but it was truly a pleasure getting to know someone who was your relative, particularly your mother's sister. Apparently, they'd returned to Rome after living in Leptis Magna for many years, and they mentioned that Paulina's husband was planning to stand for election as a member of the senate in the new reign, which would mean that you would see them more often. 

Three months later…

The last few months have been pretty busy for everyone. Geta's decision to raise the pay of the legions has led to a significant increase in the number of people applying to join. Marcus was shuttled from the Field of Mars to the barracks. All in all, when he returned in the evening, he was tired, but he still couldn't resist burying himself between your thighs and breasts. Your belly bump is certainly bigger, since the due date is just around the corner in two or three months. Your appetite had recently increased, and Marcus was certain it was because the child you were carrying was going to be strong. Your aunt and cousin Paulina were now living in the villa since her husband had become a member of the Senate. You and Marcus went to visit them once, and they got on well. But now it is difficult and tiring for you to travel so much. Marcus didn't want you to go anywhere unless you had to. Everyone at the villa was more attentive to you than ever before, trying their best to fulfill your every wish. Once a week, a midwife, selected with great care by your aunt, would come to check on you. She said that you were doing well, that the child was healthy, and that everything appeared to be fine.

Towards the end of that month, however, circumstances forced the first prolonged separation from Marcus. The army that Macrinus had secretly deployed and left behind in the vicinity of Syria had overstepped its bounds when it received the latest news and decided to cooperate with the Sasanian dynasty in attacking Roman troops in the south. When the southern legions reported this to Marcus, he thought it best to go there and repel them. With the approval of the Senate and Geta, the date of departure was set.

That evening, it seemed like sadness had taken over the villa. After dinner with Marcus, he helped you sit on the edge of the bed. The baby started kicking, as it always did after dinner. He was kneeling beside you, trying to feel the baby's kicks with his hand above your belly.

"He's a fighter," he murmured with a smile. "Don't give your mother any difficulty while I'm away, would you?" He rubbed your belly.

"What if you don't make it to the birth?" you asked, pursing your lips.

He looked up at you and kissed you on the belly before sitting down next to you. He took your hands in his.

"It's still two months away. I think I'll be back by then. Even if I don't, I'm certain you'll manage, my love."

"Could you perhaps consider not going? I believe there may be someone else who could serve as general and potentially prevail against them. Am I mistaken?"

He touched your cheek. "There is no qualified commander who knows this region as thoroughly as I do yet there is no time to choose someone to do anyway. It has to be me, my love. The soldiers in my legion in the south are like brothers to me. How can I sit here while they are out there fighting with everything they have?”

You bowed your head and couldn't stop your tears, which dripped down your cheek and into his hand. He wiped your tears away with his thumbs and gave you a kiss on the temple. "I promise you, my princess, I will be back to you safe and sound. Besides, they say, separation makes love grow and strengthen."

You felt your heartache as you looked at his face. "My heart is always longing for you, even if you're just a short distance away."

He smiled. "No matter how far I go, I'm always with you, do not forget that."

You placed his hand on your chest. "My only consolation will be the dream of you touching me again. So touch me in such a way that it would be the only thing that will keep me strong in your absence.”

Without a moment's hesitation, he pressed his lips to yours, and a complex emotion, a blend of passion and sadness, swept over your entire body. You tilted your head back ever so slightly to catch your breath, and his lips traced a path to your neck while your fingers ran possessively through his grey curls. Your heart was racing as he quickly undressed you and then himself. Still sitting on the end of the bed, he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you onto his lap. Given the size of your belly, this position seemed more appropriate.  He kissed your breasts, and you bent your knees and sat on his lap with his hands on your hips. He kissed you again and entered you needily, which made you both let out a moan of pleasure. You put your arms around his neck, your breasts brushing against his chest. He supported your back with one hand and started thrusting deeply into you, lifting you on his lap and thrusting again and again. Every touch, every kiss felt like it was the last time and full of love. Your hot breaths, loud moans, love, and sorrow filled the room, creating a memory worth remembering as your bodies merged perfectly.

The morning was overcast as if the sadness in you had turned into dark clouds and covered the whole sky. As you helped Marcus put on his armour, you tried to hold back your tears, to be strong, but you were about to fail. However, you didn't want him to remember you as sad, so you did your best to suppress your feelings and try to smile as much as possible. He kissed you one last time before leaving the room. There was so much in that kiss, passion, love, sorrow and a vow to return. Everyone in the villa seemed a bit down as they followed you outside. Marcus looked at you one last time before mounting his horse. He was wearing his long red shawl over his armour and his galea (helmet) in his hand. Instinctively you moved closer to him. He rubbed your belly, then took your hand and kissed it with his eyes closed. Then he opens his eyes and looks into yours.

"I promise you, my lady, I will return in triumph."

You nodded. "May the Gods watch over you and bring each soldier home safely. Rome victrix."

"Rome victrix." He repeated and then mounted his horse.

Your eyes filled with tears that you had been holding back. You watched them until they disappeared from sight with Octavius, and finally, all the feelings you had been suppressing started to come out. Decima embraced you as you sobbed. You stood there together for a while, and all the slaves gathered around to calm you down. The sky rumbled with thunder and soon it began to rain as if to accompany your crying.

One month later…

The days were tough, but you got through them somehow.  During that time, you sent Marcus lots of letters. But you had to keep them short since they were travelling by pigeon. You had mentioned the cool, rainy days in your letters. You had said the midwife was coming in once or twice a week and that the baby was doing well, that it was getting big enough to keep you awake at night.

In his last letter Marcus wrote that the army had managed to repel the initial assault, but the situation remained fluid and the prospect of conflict was now a distinct possibility. He did not write to you as frequently as you did, but you could imagine how busy he was, so you waited patiently. That evening you wrote him another letter, not knowing if it would reach him. It was the only way to stay strong, to hold on. It made you feel like you were talking to him.

“My husband, my love, my brave general, owner of my heart. Every minute, every hour, every day, every breath I take without you is like torture. My only consolation is our child growing inside me. The midwife says it's now less than a month before the birth, and our son must be looking forward to coming, but I try to calm him down by telling him to wait for his father. I hope you will return to us soon, my love. In your absence, things are different. I can't taste the food I eat or smell the flowers I smell the same way I used to. Everything feels incomplete without you. I miss you so much. I am praying that you will come back to me safely. Your Aurelia.”

The next day, after breakfast, you decided to go downstairs and visit Unio in the stables. You were looking forward to riding on her back again. You thought of Marcus as you stroked her silky pearl-white mane. You thought of him all the time anyway, and everything reminded you of him. You felt a bit down, and Unio nudged you with his nose and whinnied as if he wanted to cheer you up.

“Domina!”

You looked over at the voice calling you, and one of the slaves came running over. Decima was right behind him, looking worried.

“My lady, Emperor Geta.”

“Not again, please.”

Over the past few weeks, you've been feeling resentful towards your brother Geta, turning down all of his requests. Every week he sent you a letter to read and a carriage to take you to him, but you never wanted to meet up with him. You had a good reason for that, though. But today was different. You were surprised to see a lectica (palanquin) outside the door, which was usually used for short distances.

One of the guards approached you and nodded. "Princess, Emperor Geta is awaiting you. He said you would be more comfortable if we took you to him this way."

It was actually more comfortable than the carriage. There wasn't much risk of shaking, but the distance between Palatine Hill and the villa was quite a long way.

"But this way you'll be pretty tired," you said, looking at the slaves.

"They're used to carrying people who weigh more than you over longer distances," the guard explained.

"It's an honour to carry our princess," said one of them.

They all looked at you with a reassuring gaze.

"Emperor Geta has entrusted you to us, please let us carry you."

You agreed to put an end to this nonsense that happens every week.

Decima came to you, "I will accompany you."

"I can't let you walk all that way." You protested.

"Please, my lady. I cannot send you there alone."

"She's right, my lady. Let her come with you." Tullia approached you. "At least it will give me some relief."

You sighed. "Very well," you said and sat on the lectica with Decima's help. The slaves slowly lifted you up.

"Be careful with our princess!" Tullia gave them a firm warning. It was a strange feeling, being carried all that way on the shoulders of slaves. You couldn't help but feel a little uneasy, but they didn't seem to be having any difficulty.

Upon your arrival at Palatine Hill at noon, you were pleased to find the travel to be quite comfortable. The slaves were looking well and showed no signs of fatigue. They lowered you carefully and gave you a hand getting out. You thanked them and walked towards Domus Severiana, accompanied by Decima and the guards. You suddenly realised how much you'd missed the place. After all, you and Marcus had many memories here too. You smiled to yourself, no matter where you went, it felt like his memories were right there with you, following you like a shadow. You first visit the tomb with Decima, to pay your respects to your father before heading to the great hall. Once you were back in the courtyard, you asked Decima to find out where Geta was. After all, he summoned you, but he wasn't there which you found a bit strange.

You turned your head when you heard footsteps approaching behind you, but it wasn't him.

"Gods! Who is this lovely lady?”

He was a young man who looked older than Geta, perhaps around your age, someone you had never seen before. He approached you with an unnecessary grin on his face. "May I know who you are beautiful lady?"

You frowned, turning your head away.

“Sister!”

You turned and saw that Geta was coming towards you from behind the other man.

"You are the famous Princess Aurelia? You're much prettier than they say."

Geta gave him a dirty look, "I find it pretty gross that you were so desperate that you would hit on a woman with a child." He chastised him. He reached out to embrace you, but your stomach was in the way. "Oh my, it's getting quite big!"

The man laughed. "Aah, apologize, my lady. I was distracted by your beauty and didn't notice your big belly.”

You rolled your eyes. "Why did you summon me?" You asked Geta.

"Come inside with me," he said, wrapping an arm around you, and narrowing his eyes at the other man.

He watched you two walk away, pursing his lips.

When you stepped into the great hall, Geta sat you down in a chair. He then sat opposite you.

"I'm sorry I summoned you here, but I didn't have a chance to leave the palace. Besides, you refused to come and you didn't write me back, what could I do? You left me helpless, I missed you so much."

He was going to hug you again, but you drew back. His eyes widened in surprise. "Or are you angry with me?”

You sighed, couldn't hold it in any longer. "Of course I'm angry with you! How could I not be? My husband went to war to fight for you, for Rome. He had to leave his wife behind. However, the Emperor of Rome chose to stay here in his palace instead of being with his army!" You suddenly began to cry, unable to stop sobbing.

Geta stood up and approached you, putting one hand on your shoulder.

"Forgive me, sister. I wanted to go with them, but you know the reason."

"What reason?”

He frowned. "Haven't you read the letters I sent you? How rude of you sister. You broke my heart." He approached the table and poured himself a glass of wine from the decanter. "That bastard you just saw at back the courtyard, my cousin, he arrived in Rome months ago. Apparently, my mother made him a promise when she saved the Senate from Macrinus. But his target isn't the Senate, it's something bigger."

Suddenly you felt guilty, he had obviously fallen on hard times as well.

"It'll never end, will it? Someone will always want to ascend the throne." You mumbled.

"Yes, I suppose so."

"You're not angry with me for shouting at you, are you?"

He smiled. "I deserve it," he said, taking a sip of his wine. "I'm glad you came, I really needed to see you. And..." he said, putting the glass on the table and coming closer to you, taking your hands and looking into your eyes. "As for the other reason that I called you..." He smirked. "I've got some news that will make you happy."

You raised your eyebrows. "What is it?”

"I have been informed two days ago that our ships carrying the army have set sail from Alexandria."

Suddenly your heart began to beat rapidly with excitement, your throat felt dry.

"It is thought that they should arrive in Ostia in a few days. General Acacius, your husband, is returning home in triumph."

"Thank the Gods! You don't know how happy you made me, brother!" You hugged him, eyes filled with tears.

"It's nice to see you smiling again." He murmured, rubbing your back.

You began to cry again, which has become something of a habit for you recently.

"Please stop crying. He's coming back. I promise I won't send him to war again.”

Suddenly you felt a spasm in your womb and you gasped.

"Sister! Are you alright? Gods forbid, but I hope you're not in labor, are you?"

"No, there's still time. It's just a little contraction," you said through clenched teeth.

"Are you certain?" He asked anxiously.

You nodded. "I want to return home now. I'd better not move a muscle until Acacius returns. I don't want to give birth while he's away."

"You're right. Thank you for coming," he kissed you on the cheek. "Just seeing you for a little while is enough for me.”

He helped you to your feet. You looked at him. "Make sure you keep your promises to our people, brother. You must be able to rule alone. Be strong and wise, like our father."

"I promise I will. Thank you, Aurelia, for believing in me more than my mother did. She only gives lectures and tells me not to trust anyone."

"You don't need anyone's wisdom. You're a Roman Emperor, remember that, stand tall."

He nodded and smiled. Suddenly, you felt the baby kick and smiled, then took Geta's hand and placed it over your belly. He laughed as he felt the kick.

"Oh, gods! Looks like my nephew is going to be a quiet fighter, just like his father. Is the midwife sure it's a boy?"

"Yes, she said she is certain." You said a little hesitantly.

"Then you are carrying little Acacius! Rome surely needs him!”

You smiled. "I hope he will be just like his father."

He smiled back and then walked you out, making jokes about your big belly on the way. Getting slaps on the back from you in return.

The day of return.

Three days had passed since your last meeting with Geta, and there was still no word from Marcus or the Roman army. You were concerned because he hadn't replied to your last letters, but you took some solace in what Geta had said. Cato, who was waiting in the harbor of Ostia, was sending you the latest news every evening with a soldier. But the news you were waiting for never came, and each passing day was becoming more and more unbearable. However, today, unlike other days, that soldier arrived while you were resting in the courtyard after breakfast. He came by early today because he had the news you were waiting for. The good news you'd been hoping for and praying for.

"I've got some good news for you, my lady. We have a sighting of our army's ships off the coast of Ostia!"

You smile and place your hand on your chest, just above your heart, which begins to beat faster.

"Praise the gods!" cried Tullia, raising her arms in the air.  Everyone in the villa smiled at each other and looked at you with a warm, relieved expression. You were just so overwhelmed that you didn't know what to say. Decima and Norell gave you a hug, sharing your happiness as you shed a few tears. You quickly told them to get the bath ready and prepare the food. Your heart was racing with excitement, and you could feel your whole body trembling. He was returning, your husband, your love, your happiness, your general, back to you.

As the sun's rays filtered through the clouds and illuminated the blue waters of the sea, the ships of the Roman army coyly approached the harbour. Marcus exhaled deeply as his gaze traversed the outlines of the city skyline. He was grateful to be able to return to his city and homeland in triumph. Previously, upon returning home, his thoughts had been solely focused on relaxing at his villa and then heading to the barracks or the Field of Mars, the only place he would be occupied again. But now he had you in his life, he had something to come back for, something to give up all his duties for. A month without you felt like a year to him, he was tired and full of longing.

He reached for his armour and picked up the papers he'd tucked under it. All the letters you had written to him. As he brought them to his lips and kissed them, he couldn't help but smile. He was really looking forward to seeing you and having you in his arms again. Once the ship was approaching in the harbour, Octavius brought his red shawl and helped him put it on. They exchanged a proud smile and went down on deck together as the ship made its way to the dock. Marcus tapped all his soldiers on the shoulder as they all saluted him. They were all tired, proud and cheerful. The ship maneuvered to port on the port tack and came alongside with a slight bump, the waves crashing into the harbour causing the waves to splash the people waiting on the shore. The gangway was brought for the soldiers who were ready to get off the ship. The people on the shore cheered, and the soldiers on board saluted as Marcus stepped from the ship onto the shore. After him, other soldiers disembarked, and a festive atmosphere prevailed on the shore. Cato came running to them and saluted Marcus, who touched his shoulder in return.

"Aurelia? Tell me, is she alright?" He asked excitedly.

Cato smiled. "Yes, sir. Lady Aurelia and the others are all waiting for you."

Marcus let out a sigh of relief, but now feeling more excited, he turned to Octavius. "Are you coming with me?"

"Yes, sir." He replied with a shy smile.

"My lady, why don't you take a seat?"

You ignored Tullia's concern, shaking your head as 'no'. “I'll wait here until he arrives," you said firmly.

You were all waiting outside the villa, just off the dirt road. You were feeling a little nervous and your heart was beating a little faster, making it a little difficult to catch your breath. You were getting tired, but you decided to wait there for a little longer. Everyone had their eyes locked on the end of the road, excitedly waiting for their Dominus to arrive. Decima came to you and took your hand and put one hand on your back, sharing your exhilaration.

And then, you heard some horses' hooves pounding on the ground, followed by a few loud neighs. You kept your eyes fixed on the road ahead, waiting impatiently. Your hands were shaking, your palms were sweating, and your heart was beating faster than ever. Decima gave you a rub on the shoulder. And Marcus came into view, urging his horse on to go faster, his voice bouncing off the road. You took a step forward and almost forgot about your big belly, wanting to run towards him. Marcus reared his horse, looking at you, and then jumped off and ran towards you. The slaves murmured to each other in joy. You gave Decima's hand a gentle push to walked towards him. She said something in concern, but you ignored her. All you could think about was Marcus who came over to you with a big smile on his face. He took your hands first, then looked at your belly in amazement and took you in his arms. He turned you around a few times in joy, making you giggle. Then he set you down and gave you a tight but careful hug, grabbing your neck pulling your head closer, burying his face in your hair, breathing you in.

"Thank the gods! You have returned to me, my love." Tears filled your eyes.

He looked into your eyes, and you could see his longing there, burning bright. "As I promised, I have returned to you, my lady, in triumph."

You embraced him tightly, running your fingers through his grey hair as the tears rolled down your cheeks. You inhaled his scent, kissed his neck, and let out a few sobs that echoed off the outer walls of the villa.

Marcus gently wiped away your tears with his fingers and placed his arm around you.

"Welcome home, general!" the slaves saluted him.

"Thank the gods you have returned safely," Tullia said cherfully.

"Thank you Tullia," Marcus said, then noticed Decima standing timidly. He turned around and looked at Octavius and made a sign to him. Then they embraced each other as you walked into the courtyard. You tilted your head to look at them, Marcus leaning down and kissing the top of your head, pulling you closer to him.

"My love, you've become even more beautiful since I last saw you," Marcus said, his fingers brushing through your hair.

You two were in the Balneum, you were seated on his lap in the water, your head resting on his shoulder.

"I'm not sure if I really look beautiful. I have some body flaws." You giggled, pointing to your belly.

You felt his lips beneath your earlobe. "I'm in love with every part of you that you think is a flaw. Besides, you're beautiful in every way. It's simply not possible otherwise." He put his hand on your belly, smiled when he felt a kick. "See? Our child agrees."

You smiled, then lifted your head to look at his face. "I've noticed that when you talk about him, you always say 'our child', not 'our son'. Do you think it's going to be a girl?"

"It doesn't matter if it's a boy or a girl since it's our child, the fruit of our love." He kissed your temple.

"Wouldn't you prefer it to be a boy? From what I've seen, Roman men care more about that."

"Nonsense. If you ask me, I would prefer a girl with your hair, your eyes, your beauty." His lips brushed against your cheek.

"Really? The midwife says it's a boy. And in my experience as a medicus, I find that to be true.”

“Aurelia, please don't worry about that. I promise you, nothing else matters more than ensuring our child is born healthy.”

You looked at him admiringly and sighed. "I've missed you so much. Your voice, the way you always comforted me." You then frowned. "I'll speak to Geta and make sure he doesn't send you anywhere else. I was really worried about you. I was so close to having an early labor."

He laughed. ‘'I'm glad I returned in time. I was afraid that if I didn't make it."

Then he sighed deeply. "I missed you too. Without you, It's like nothing tastes the same, not even the food I eat or the wine I drink. It was as if even the sun wasn't as bright as it usually is. Even when I was fighting enemy soldiers, all I could think about was returning to you. I felt no other emotion and had no other purpose. You looked at him and he looked at you. No matter how far away we were, I felt you with me every time I closed my eyes. He pressed his palm on your chest, right above your heart. Maybe it's because our souls are bound together. Our hearts are tied together.”

Your eyes locked on his lips, he realized what you wanted, and he leaned down and kissed you. The kiss was more restrained than ever, full of love, like a cry of longing. But your heavy breathing made him break the kiss.

"Are you alright, my love?"

You nodded, taking his hand on your thigh. "Marcus, please, I need you now more than ever."

He smirked. "It seems our bodies need to be as one as our souls."

He grabbed your hips and pulled you to him. With his need, already writhing to be inside you, he entered you impatiently.

Your belly prevented you from wrapping your arms around his neck, so you put your hands on his shoulders. "Gods!" you moaned in pleasure. You had missed feeling him inside you so much.

"Let me," He said and turned you around and pulled you back to him a little roughly, your back bumped against his chest. His hands, his arms, every part of his body was yearning to touch you, to possess you. He guided you to sit properly on his lap and entered you from behind. You found this position more comfortable. He gently gripped onto your hips and pushed you against his groin, splashes echoing off the damp walls of the balneum. His hands reached up to cup your breasts, kneading them possessively. With each thrust, each touch, you felt more and more breathless, and you were getting closer and closer to the edge. His lips were hot as they travelled along your neckline, soon to be replaced by his tongue and teeth. Your back arched and you pressed into his shoulder, giving him the opportunity to kiss you deeply.

"Marcus!" you gasped. You dug your fingers into his arms that were wrapped around you.

"I know my love, me too." He whispered in your ear and tightened his grip around you, thrusting as deep as he could. He picked up the pace at an incredible rate and you cried out his name over and over as you both reached your climaxes.

The intense pleasure you were experiencing suddenly gave way to pain. "Ow!" You groaned.

You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling incredible pressure in your womb but still able to detect the remaining traces of pleasure.

"Aurelia?" He grabbed your hair with one hand to look at your face. "Are you alright? Did I hurt you?" His voice was full of concern.

You were in too much pain to speak. Or was it time? You suddenly felt afraid. "I'm not hurt. I'm just having contractions," you said through clenched teeth.

Marcus stood up and helped you to your feet. He poured a bucket of clean water over your shoulders and gave you a kiss on the head. "We should summon the midwife. Let me dry you off first."

You nodded and got out of the tub with his help.

The midwife came in a hurry, but by the time she arrived, you were no longer having contractions. She examined you anyway and said some things you didn't like.

"You're still some time away from labor, my lady," she said, and then she looked at Marcus. "Contractions are very normal at this stage, but it is wise not to trigger them too much as this can lead to an early birth. The earlier premature birth happens, the greater the health risks for your child."

You frowned, pursing your lips.

"I want you to move in here next week," Marcus said, looking at her. "Whatever you need will be provided. Inform the slaves of what you need for the birth, everything should be ready by now." He spoke in a firm tone as if giving orders to a soldier.

"As you wish sir. I will have everything ready. Please take care until then, my lady." She bowed her head and left the room.

"I think she's exaggerating a bit. I feel fine," you said, pursing your lips. Marcus sat down on the bed next to you and took your hand.

"Well, we'd better err on the side of caution anyway."

"Or will you not touch me again until the birth?"

He gave you a smile and stroked your cheek.

"You know I don't mean that."

He rolled his eyes. "Aurelia, you heard her too. She said it wouldn't be good for the child. We'll be patient. What's the big deal?"

You shrugged stubbornly, he laughed at your expression. Then he leaned in and whispered in your ear. "I promise you that after the birth, when you're ready, I'll make love to you until the morning. It will be so incredible that you'll forget your name in the morning."

You giggled and pulled him to you and kissed him passionately. But when the kiss got dangerously deep, he stopped you and pulled back. You frowned again. Marcus sighed and pinched your cheek. "You're going to have to be patient, princess.”

That week was more arduous than you anticipated. Your belly got bigger, it was harder to breathe and even sleeping peacefully became almost impossible. The baby was so active that it kept you awake at night. Marcus tried putting pillows between your legs and under your belly to help you sleep better, but it didn't seem to make much of a difference. It wasn't just because you were carrying a child, but also because you couldn't touch him the way you wanted to, even though there were only a few inches between you and Marcus in bed. This absence of physical contact was starting to bother you, but he didn't seem too concerned. Or maybe he was just hiding his feelings really well – you weren't sure. All he did was hold your hand, kiss the top of your head or place a soft kiss on your lips. You were craving for more yet you had to restrain yourself. You kept telling yourself to be patient, to wait a little longer.

Since he's tired of battle, Marcus was spending a little more time at the villa which you were happy about it. But for some reason he was suddenly leaving every afternoon and coming back quite late at night. When you asked him about it, he mentioned that there was an election between the legions, and he had to re-select his centurions and legates after the last war. But it was a bit strange that it was in the evening, maybe it was hard for him too, not being able to touch you, so it was good to be at work, who knows, so you didn't ask too many questions.

When Antonia, your aunt, invited you to a dinner banquet at her house one night, you weren't sure you wanted to go at first. But it was tough spending time at the villa without Marcus and it was very boring to just lie down all day anyway. That is why you decided to go.

The reason for the banquet was that Pauline's husband had now risen to a high position in the council, and they were expecting a child soon too. You thought it would be a good opportunity to meet the other senate wives, so you decided to go.

Marcus said you could go if your midwife would accompany you there as if she wasn't already following you like a shadow. You were hoping this banquet would be a nice change of pace since you hadn't been around people for a while.

Their villa was really grand, though not quite as big as yours. The courtyard was really lovely and spacious. The whole place was lit up with twinkling lights, specially lit for tonight. The soft, happy sounds of women's laughter floated out of the courtyard. As soon as you stepped inside, everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to look at you. It was just like your wedding day. You couldn't help but smile as you remembered it. You gave them a quick look as you walked over to your aunt. Some of the women looked a little jealous, some admired you, and others looked respectful.

"Oh, my beautiful niece Aurelia! You’re here!" She gave you a big hug and held your hands with joy. "Come dear, please have a seat,” she made you sit on a lectus filled with cushions, which you realised was a specially prepared place for you. Decima put a cushion just behind you to make you feel comfortable, you thanked her.

Paulina came over and gave you a quick kiss on the cheek. You congratulated her on her husband's success and on the little one she was expecting. The banquet carried on, with the women chatting and laughing, before they sat down to eat. They kept asking you lots of questions. As you might expect, the questions were all about the child and the birth. Julia was there too, along with two other women. You ignored their looks and carried on chatting with your aunt.

"How long until the birth, princess? Your belly looks so big now," a woman asked.

"My belly was smaller when I gave birth to my daughter." Said another one, they laughed.

"The midwife thinks it'll probably be next week," you replied.

"It's so close now. I hope the baby is born healthy, my lady."

You nodded your thanks.

"I'm sure everything will be fine," your aunt said, smiling at you.

It suddenly dawned on you that your aunt's reason for calling you there was not as innocent as it seemed. After all, you've had the chance to get to know her over the past few months. She was showing off to other women about the power of your status, but she didn't seem to be malicious.

"Oh, it's so tough being a woman, isn't it?” One of them said, with a sigh. "They tell us from a young age that we should marry a powerful man and bear him children. But what about men? It's all so easy and comfortable for them." The woman seemed a little drunk, but she made a fair point.

Antonia narrowed her eyes. "Maybe you're right, my dear, but my Paulina's husband, my son-in-law, is never one to sit still. He's worked hard for his position." Then she looked at you. "Neither is Aurelia's husband, General Acacius, he's a hero. Let's make a toss to him and the glorious Roman army once more!"

You smiled at her and lifted your glass with the juice in it.

"Of course he is," Julia replied, with a hint of sarcasm. You were curious as to why she had broken the silence she had kept all night. And you were pretty sure you wouldn't be pleased with what she had to say. 'But he's just like any other man. All men are basically the same."

Before you could ask her a question, someone else butted in and said something into her ear, then they laughed. You frowned.

"Come now! Are we here to talk about men, ladies?" Someone complained.

But you found yourself looking at the woman next to Julia, who was giving you some pretty suggestive glances, and you felt pretty uncomfortable.

"Lady Domna!" you called out loudly. You sat up, giving her a stern look. "There seemed to be an insinuation in your voice. I want to know why."

The woman next to her laughed. "Oh, poor thing, she has no idea."

"What are you talking about?" This behavior annoyed you. Your aunt grabbed your hand, Decima touched your shoulder.

"My niece asked you a question," your aunt said firmly, seemed like she didn't like them at all just like you did.

Julia smiled cruelly. "Aurelia, it could happen to any of us. I don't mean to disrespect his memory, but my husband Septimus, your father, turned to other women to fulfill his sexual needs when my belly was as big as yours."

"My husband did too," one of them complained.

You stood up. "What did you just say?"

Julia rolled her eyes and looked at you like she won a victory. "Whore house," she said. "Acacius, your husband, was there the other day. Horatia's husband visits there often, so she said that he saw him there, right Horatia?"

She nodded hesitantly.

You were stunned, and instinctively put your both hands over your mouth. Suddenly your whole body began to tremble with rage.

To be continued…

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I have the cutest idea. How about prompt b 3 with regulus black. Kinda Sunshine x grumpy, where reader is so openly in love with regulus and is just enjoying that even when regulus doesn’t seem to be returning their feelings (or at least not outwardly saying it). Just reader who is absolutely soft and understanding with Regulus.

😬😊 Hope you have a great day!

i genuinely had so much fun writing this, the request and dynamic fits perfectly with little reggie. thanks darling<3 i hope your day was great as well

Prompt: B.3 "You occupy my every thought"

Words: 2.6k

Warnings: not proofread, reggie is mentally unwell and a bit insecure, hinting at the black brothers drama, reader is very emotionally open and secure (good for you), friends-but-kinda-more dynamic going on, reader is bestie with the marauders

Regulus was not sure how or when it started.

Perhaps it was that day in the library when you strolled right up to him, breaking the sacred silence of the space with your bright voice, oblivious to the withering stares of Madam Pince and the other students. You sat down beside him, uninvited, and started chattering as though you had known him for years, as though the wall he meticulously kept around himself simply didn’t exist.

“You’re a good listener, did you know that?” you had said cheerfully after several minutes of mostly unreciprocated conversation. “We should sit together more often.”

Regulus hadn’t known what to say, so he didn’t say anything at all. He had merely given a curt nod, lips pressed into a thin line, and waited for you to get bored.

You never did.

Perhaps it only truly solidified when he was trying to read his book in the Slytherin common room while Barty, Evan and Dorcas did everything in their power to distract him, until you skipped in, plopping down beside him and asking him about his book with genuine interest. His friends were all shocked to see him actually give you an answer, albeit short, and most important of all not pushing you away. He allowed you to sit there and read over his shoulder, smiling dreamily at him, and shot the others a few dirty looks as they snickered. The feeling in his chest that he still can’t quite place, began to bloom in his chest then, and it has yet to let go.

Nevertheless, somehow you became a fixture in his life. You sat beside him in the library, during meals, and even in the quiet corners of the castle where he had once gone to find solitude, and now oddly didn’t mind sharing with you. There was always a smile on your face and a knowing look in your eyes, that remained trained on him, even when in the company of his or your friends. You never demanded conversation; in fact, there were days where you spoke little and just kept him company, respecting his occasional genuine need for silence as much as you successfully challenged it when you knew it was a facade. It baffled him, but he couldn’t say he disliked it. Far from it.

It took a while to get used to, and Regulus was not sure if he ever could entirely. He had grown up with everyone wanting something from him – his parents wanted the perfect heir after Sirius left, his friends wanted chaos, his brother wanted his trust. He dealt with it all by aiming for perfection, for control and precision, but he knew it was crushing him. Then, you – you had never once asked anything of him. You were just there one day, and you never left.

The habit of it all did start to settle and he found himself allowing you further and further in. A friendship formed, perhaps something more as well, and he revelled in it, even as the shame of doing so grew deep within him. The certainty that it was not forever was clear in his heart, but the way you looked at him, the way you spoke without a care in the world, made him think that maybe he could let himself enjoy this one thing while it lasted. 

He began making space for you in his everyday life, part subconsciously, waiting for you outside your classrooms, saving you a seat wherever he was, seeking you out and allowing you to seek him. It was unspoken, yet you picked up on it so easily, so beautifully, making him feel a twinge of safety that he ached to chase. As Barty often teased him, you had become attached at the hip.

Which is one of the main reasons why he ended up on the floor of the Gryffindor common room, leaning against the edge of a sofa with a novel in his hands – because you wanted to spend time with your friends, and where you are, he went.

Unfortunately, though, your friends were primarily Regulus’ brother and his fellow troublemakers.

The common room was loud, filled with the usual banter and shouting, much less controlled than that in Slytherin. While you had long grown accustomed to the buzz of energy in the air, finding comfort in it, you knew the same was not the case for Regulus, so you had a hand playing with the curls at the back of his head as you sat leaning on the sofa’s armrest.

He wasn’t part of the lively conversation about Quidditch plays – though you knew he actually had several strong opinions on this very topic – nor was he trying to laugh along with Sirius’ absurd stories. He was there, present, yet apart from it all, seemingly chewing on a thousand thoughts. You ached to save him from them, but for now you settled on looking happily down with him and enjoying the feeling of his hair between your fingers.

“Oi, sweetheart!” James all but shouted as he threw a tiny piece of crumpled up paper at you, trying to gain your attention. Regulus didn’t look up from his book, but his ears quirked up. “I was talking to you!”

“Oh, sorry Jamie,” you said and Regulus had to fight his smile at the dreamy sound in your voice. “Was distracted.”

“I can see that.” James looked pointedly between you and Regulus. You didn’t dignify his hinting with a response.

“What was it you were saying?”

“Just asking you about your take on the story Siri just told… which I’m now seeing you didn’t even listen to.” Before you could reply, Sirius cut in.

"How do you do it?" Sirius's voice was a mix of bewilderment and amusement. "Regulus barely tolerates people, and yet, there you are, right beside him, like it's the most natural thing in the world."

At that, Regulus had to look up, giving his brother a levelling glare for the unwanted attention. You only smiled in response, glancing at Regulus and his tense posture, hand in his hair never slowing. "There's nothing to it," you had said simply. "He’s not hard to understand once you take the time. It is the most natural thing in the world."

Sirius looked like he wanted to say more, eyes boring into both you and Regulus, whose face was angled back down into his book but whose attention was anywhere but – but before he could, Lily intervened, steering the conversation towards some drama she just learned from Slughorn.

You looked down at Regulus, reading his body language like the book he clearly was not, and in one languid movement slid down from your seat to plop beside him on the floor. He looked over at you, expression unreadable, and you beamed at him. 

The others carried on without much notice, except for Sirius who still had half an eye on you, raising a brow at your changed position from where he was draped over the armchair across the room. He glanced between you and his younger brother, visibly trying to figure out what the dynamic between you really was and what that meant for how he viewed you two. You paid it no mind, instead attentively zeroing in on Regulus and his mood.

You tucked your legs underneath you, leaning slightly closer to him. “You doing okay? You’ve been a bit quiet today,” you said softly, keeping your voice low enough so that the others wouldn’t hear.

Regulus’ eyes flickered toward you briefly, then over to the fire burning not far away from you, book forgotten in his lap. “I’m always quiet.”

“True,” you conceded with a grin, not deterred by his exterior attitude. “But this is the extra-brooding kind of quiet. The kind where your forehead does that little frowny thing.” You gestured to your own forehead, mimicking his usual frown.

He let out a short breath – something that was almost, but not quite, a laugh. 

“There it is!” you teased gently. 

Regulus shot you a look, one that others often labelled annoyance, but you could clearly tell was a form of confused entertainment. It seemed to ask you all the questions he would never say out loud. You had seen that look a lot, more than you could count, but it never stopped you from being your usual sunny self around him. If anything, it only made you want to stay closer.

“You don’t have to sit beside me, I’m fine,” he muttered after a moment, his voice so low it almost got lost in the noise of the room.

You shrugged and remained seated. “I know, but I want to.”

Silence settled between you two for a minute. It wasn’t uncomfortable, though; it never was. Despite how different you were, there was an odd sense of understanding that always seemed to hover between you. You could fill the space with chatter, or sit quietly, and somehow it was always okay. 

Though, as the life bustled around you, you noticed how his left leg was unruly and how he had not flipped a page in his book since you sat down – and you knew Regulus was a fast reader.

After a while, you gave him another soft nudge. “Wanna get some air?”

Regulus hesitated, glancing at you like he wasn’t sure if you were serious, but when you kept his gaze, he eventually nodded, internally grumbling about how he had just thought how some air would be nice. You smiled and stood up, extending a hand to him. He gave in and took it. You led him out of the common room, keeping his hand in yours, winding through the corridors until you found a quiet nook just outside by the Black Lake, far enough from the castle to escape the noise but close enough that you could still hear the faint murmur of the wind over the water.

You plopped down on the soft grass and patted the spot next to you. In your newfound privacy, Regulus didn’t hesitate to sit down beside you, his arms resting on his knees as he stared out at the lake.

You took a deep, loud breath, night air clearing through your lungs, and it inspired him to do the same, much to your liking.

“Better?” you asked, drawing your knees up to your chest, resting your chin on them as you looked at him expectantly.

He didn’t answer right away, his gaze distant. The moonlight reflected off the water, casting a soft glow over both of you, and for a moment, you let the silence linger.

“Why do you do this?” Regulus finally asked, his voice low but tinged with something you had not heard before – something vulnerable.

“Do what?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“Follow me around,” he clarified, his eyes finally meeting yours. “Why do you bother with me? You could be with any of them.” He gestured vaguely back toward the castle where your friends were. “They’re fun, and loud, and… like you.”

The way he said it, like he was utterly convinced that you should be with people more like you, made your heart ache. You knew what he was trying to do – push you away, not with anger but with insecurity. He did this sometimes when his own thoughts became too heavy, you had seen it. 

“Yeah, they’re fun,” you said lightly, keeping your tone easy. “But so are you. I like spending time with you, so I want to be here. With you.”

Regulus’ brow furrowed, and you could see the gears turning in his head. He didn’t get it. You wanted to tell him he didn’t need to, he just had to accept it, but you knew he was not quite ready for that.

“I don’t–” He exhaled sharply, frustration creeping into his voice. “I don’t understand why you chose me.”

You laugh a little at that, and he tries to ignore how it makes his heart race. “You say it like there was some grand plan and thoughtful process. I just spoke to you and found out I really like speaking to you, so I continued. I don’t know Reggie, I just like you. There doesn’t need to be any more to it than that.”

He stared at you silently, clearly trying to digest your words. This was the first time he challenged you about your friendship directly, before he had only hinted that maybe you shouldn’t run around with the likes of me, to which you had simply disagreed.

You smiled at him softly, wanting to guide him through what he was feeling. You leaned back on your hands as you looked up at the stars. “You want to know the truth?”

He didn’t respond, but you knew he was listening.

“You occupy my every thought, Regulus,” you said, your voice quiet but firm. “So it’s only fitting you occupy my personal space as well. Even when I’m laughing with James, teasing Sirius, or debating something with Remus… I’m always thinking about you.”

Regulus’s mouth was slightly agape as he stared at you, and you had to fight a giggle at how flabbergasted he seemed – now was not the time.

He blinked, his confusion deepening. “Why?”

You tilted your head slightly. “Because you’re you, you’re Regulus. You don’t need to see it, because I do. I like the way you’re quiet but notice everything. I like the way you actually listen when I talk. I like the way you’re thoughtful, even if you try to hide it behind that whole grumpy façade.” You reached out, nudging his knee with your foot. “I like you, Regulus. Just as you are.”

He stared at you, utterly perplexed, like he couldn’t comprehend why someone like you, someone oh so lovely and lively, would be drawn to him of all people. But you just told him he didn’t need to get it – you got it for the both of you.

“I don’t get it,” he muttered, shaking his head. “You could have anyone. Someone who’s better at… this.” He gestured vaguely between you two.

You leaned closer to him, keeping your eyes on his. “Maybe. But I don’t want anyone else.”

Regulus let out a quiet, almost involuntary laugh, as if the mere concept was funny to him, and you grinned, feeling like you’d just won some kind of secret victory.

“You’re a bit ridiculous, you know that?” There was no bite in his voice. In fact, the shine in his eyes almost looked… relieved. Like he was starting to believe you.

You scooted a little closer, closing the gap between you two, placing a tentative hand on his elbow “Yeah, but that doesn’t make it any less true.” You felt some of the tension melt off of him as he leaned into the feeling of your shoulder against his. 

For a while, neither of you spoke, just sitting there by the lake, stars twinkling overhead. And though Regulus didn’t say it, you could feel the shift in him – something was softening, letting go.

After a long stretch of silence, he finally spoke again, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re… different.”

“Good different?” you asked, smiling softly.

He hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. Good different.”

You beamed, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “Good. Though you better get used to it, because I’m not going anywhere.”

Regulus had a small, almost imperceptible smile on his lips. When he spoke next, it was so quiet that you almost didn’t hear him, but you did – and flowers bloomed in your chest. 

“I’m glad.”

[binomech]

In Viktor and Jayce's first encounter and the subsequent Hextech discovery was motivated by a desire to use science as a tool to put the power back in the people's hands (understanding the people as the proletariat, mostly in Zaun), and there is clearly a class component that stands out in a narrative that, for all of that first season, leaned really hard into both-sides-ism. Part of the appeal of the conflict for me was that it was specifically them that were working on it. We are shown science and a common goal as an equalizer and an excellent tool for "progress" (a vague keyword that we frequently use in the real world as well in relation to science at the service of capital, but that's a post for another day). But it soon becomes apparent that science is ideologically neutral and that their personal backgrounds are at odds, with Jayce being from a piltovan petit bourgeois background (while still existing in a plutocratic industrial metropolis) and Viktor being a disabled zaunite whose presumed working class background is nevertheless light years away from those of other zaunites who are in the same circumstances as him but still living in the Undercity. And of course, the industrial use of the arcane soon becomes tied to the economic interests of said industry, namely weapon manufacturing and international trade (led by the plutocrats governing the city.)

The Arcane as a corrupting power (someone playing god and being punished for taking what isn't rightfully theirs) is a theme that is being hinted at throughout this season. While I do think it makes for a very good background for a tragedy, we love the Greeks, etc., I'm not sure it's a narrative I find all that compelling in the context of a story where the main point of conflict is class war. If taking what is not rightfully yours results in punishment, the underlying thesis is that the Undercity was punished for trying to take something that wasn't rightfully theirs ("welfare state" would be the more clout-friendly term I could use, but I won't: They were trying to seize the means of production that were hinging on the use of exploited labour of Zaunites and all the social and physical consequences that are born from this oppression).

I am hoping that the depiction of imperialist endeavors as something negative (at times cheesy in its obvious visual signifiers) through Caitlyn and Ambessa, as an aristocrat on the police force veering right in a moment of political turbulence and a general in an expansionist empire's army with a material interest in Hextech weaponry, is treated not as a "they also flew too close to the sun" but as people whose economical interests need that there is an oppressed class (be it Zaunites, Ionians, or whomever) whose labor sustains them. But my hopes about this also tie into Jayce and Viktor and their shared plotline.

I think it's a delightful, painful irony that the Zaunite guy who has been working in Piltover for over a decade comes back to Zaun all full of magical wisdom and cures the disabled addicts who inevitably turn to worship him for ending their plight. There is a side of horror to this when you consider Viktor's personal relationship with disability and professional goals in the Hextech investigation, and I'm very worried about the implications of both "the disabled guy gets punished for curing his disability with magic" and "using magic to improve human lives is playing god and one must die to restore the balance of the universe" which right now, one day before act 2 of season 2 airs, seem increasingly possible takes. I hope I'm wrong. Jayce, on the other hand, is facing the consequences of having understood their investigation and invention of Hextech devices as an isolated endeavor when he realizes all the industrial detritus has been an active component of mass death in Zaun. And the soundtrack and his horror at the anomaly put the audience in a spot of thinking that once more the horror lies in trying to control the Arcane, in human hubris and ambition, and not in the class horror of killing poor people by the hundreds in the name of an abstract value of progress that clearly only benefits the proverbial patron.

The Act 2 posters for Viktor and Jayce have been released, I've written extensively about how I think making Viktor's narrative about bodily autonomy and agency is a possibility and also what I think the character deserves, but I am wondering about the design choices for Jayce hinting at the fact that he embodies some of Viktor's pre-cocoon traits. I understand the appeal of Jayce also getting "infected" by the hexcore, sustaining matching injuries to Viktor as he heals him (the leg brace, the bracelet's gem embedded in his forearm, the glove, the glow of hextech in his chest and pauldron). But I dislike the thought that this whole exchange once again exists in the premise that the Arcane is punishing human hubris and demands.

The Arcane is nothing, it has no essential properties, it's not sentient. The Hexcore heals because Viktor spent months teaching it how to heal. The Hexgates transport ships because that's the input they have been given. I would maybe like to consider the environmental aspects of Hex crystal harvesting as more of a "hubristic endeavour" rather than an "angering the gods" story (I miss you, old Skarner). I want to focus on the social structures the discovery has supported, on how Viktor's and Jayce's current predicament is a product of socioeconomic neglect because they believed in the certainty of science as the objective truth, as politically neutral, as inherently good, and now they are trapped, injured, losing themselves and their very mortal and human bodies because they were cogs in a bigger machine convinced of their importance.

This story is at the same spot it began: With Zaun crushed under Piltover's boot for demanding dignity and freedom. Will this anomaly trip change the stakes at all? Can we understand the literal, physical transfer of Hextech-induced sickness onto Jayce through Viktor as a narrative of accepting the demands of the oppressed as one's own to finally work for liberation? To become a class traitor as an act of love?

[bum-tan]

Honestly, I'm genuinely surprised that Cartman isn't the bicycle of the South Park Fandom and that the ships involving him aren't as enjoyed as other ships.

Don't get me wrong ! I love Creek and Stendy, and I believe they are popular in their own rights; I just find it weird that ships with Cartman aren't nearly as popular as they could be, especially considering the fact that almost every prominent character has material and a bit of chemistry with him in the show.

For instance:

-Cartman's rivalry with Kyle and their complex frenemies/love-hate dynamic with intense interactions due to often conflicting morals and ideals, which is the base of many episodes. The fact that their very identities are complete opposite from one another, but they still share similar key traits such as being stubborn, egotistical, and driven. Their mutual obsession and the odd codependent nature of their relationship where they just have to one up the other. The constant back and forth where Kyle wants Cartman to change and become a better person, while Cartman wants to break Kyle and prove he is just as bad, if not worse than him. Of course, let's not forget that on the occasions where they do team up towards a common goal and set aside their differences, they work efficiently together. Moreover, they get along surprisingly well when they simply hang out and there is no clashing beliefs or morally charged disagreements. But what makes this ship truly interesting is that despite everything, it has been shown multiple times that they still care for each other, which adds even more nuance to their overall dynamic.

-His evolving relationship with Butters, that started off as extremely harmful and one-sided, is now a more balanced friendship. Butters, who is nice to everyone in general, is especially nice to Cartman and seems to hold him in high regards not just because/in spite of being afraid of him. He is more likely to choose Cartman's side every time there is a conflict and often provides unconditional support. As for Cartman, he has stopped tormenting Butters and he is even nice to him on some occasions due to Butters' loyalty. Furthermore, it has been shown that Cartman confides in Butters, which indicates a certain level of trust on his end, cementing that Butters is a close friend he can rely on. Of course their relationship is still far from perfect, but Butters isn't as naive anymore; he is now familiar with Cartman's cruel nature, having been personally subjected to it. Butters will stand up to Cartman when he reaches his limits and openly express his frustration at times because he no longer blindly chases after his approval. Nevertheless, he still sticks around and helps Cartman because he does care about him.

-Kenny being Cartman's best friend and arguably the one who understands him the most out of anyone in the gang due to their similarities like having the same humor, which usually makes Kenny go along with Cartman's antics, and the same interests (anime, video games, horror movies). The fact that they both have dysfunctional households (Kenny's troubled home with parents who always fight, and Cartman being the son of a neglectful single mother); as well as the fact they're both outcasts because Kenny is poor and Cartman is fat (poor, fatherless, his mom is a whore-) which are all things they can bond over. The occasional rivalry they have (the coon), though not as intense as the one between Kyle and Cartman, is still entertaining. How the show sometime hints at Cartman being aware of Kenny's multiple deaths and immortality (more consistently than other characters like Stan or Kyle, mind you) which adds more potential to their dynamic. Their mutual care for one another albeit in an unconventional way. Adding to all of that is how their relationship has its highs and lows, but they still ultimately remain close friends.

-The fact that Stan is one, if not the only person, Cartman is ever consistently nice to; while he may rip on him for having a crush on Wendy and for being too sensitive at times, it's never truly mean spirited more than it is to tease him. Most of the animosity he showcases towards Stan stems from him, more often than not, siding with Kyle during disagreements as Kyle is the most "reasonable" between the two. More proof of that would be how Cartman will sometime go out of his way to help Stan out when he is distressed, without any ulterior motives or grand agenda whatsoever. He will also encourage Stan when the latter forms his own opinion and acts on his own accord, all while disregarding others' expectations. Of course, this is all only when Stan isn't getting in his way, because it's still Cartman we're talking about; but even then, it's apparent that he likes Stan, even if the other doesn't seem to particularly like him. They do have moments, though, where Stan seems to genuinely enjoy Cartman's company when the other kids aren't around. All in all, their dynamic is just as compelling as the others to explore.

-The episode where Wendy has a crush on Cartman and kisses him. That episode clearly shows they can get along when they work together and that Wendy can find him attractive. However, their overall relationship throughout the show is tense and antagonistic; Wendy is not scared to call him out and put him in his place for what she thinks is just, that alone makes her stand out to Cartman because she doesn't match the image he has of girls (His passive mom, other girls at school who'd rather just ignore him, the girls in the media he consumes etc.). While he usually dismisses Wendy or makes fun of her, he does feel intimidated by her, as shown in the episode where she beats him up. Cartman seems especially mean to Wendy since he dislikes being so openly criticized, especially by a girl. However, it can also be inferred that he respects her even if it's in his own twisted way. As for Wendy ? Well, she is frustrated with him mainly due to his obnoxious and bigoted behaviour, but doesn't harbour personal hatred towards him like Kyle. The implications and potential of their dynamic are what makes the pairing interesting.

Obviously, there is also Cartman's entire relationship with Heidi before and after they started dating, which I don't think I even need to expand on as it was canon in the show and had its dynamic fully explored throughout season 20. All of this, despite Heidi not even being a recurring character, as opposed to the ones I previously mentioned along with others like Craig, and his friends (Clyde, Tolkien, Jimmy, Tweek, etc.) which, by the way, I could go on and on about as well (shout out to people who shipped or still ship Cartman's rare pairs).

Clearly, Cartman is a very compelling character, and he has interacted with almost every kid in the show. There are people who have shipped characters for less (Dip, for example, which is also a ship I like, so I am part of those people), so why not ship him sometimes ?

It's understandable that some fans just don't like Cartman due to how much of a bad person he is, (he is supposed to be hated. Afterall, he represents so much of what is wrong in our society), so it would feel wrong for them to put him under any other light than "horrible bastard". Other fans are just not comfortable shipping him in general since he doesn't fit the usual aesthetic as he is fat (I would argue that doesn't necessarily make him ugly, but I digress).

I for one think it's okay to like Cartman and it's worth addressing that ships involving him deserve more love. Does this mean I condone his actions and agree with his problematic mindset? No. I like him in the realm of fiction only, and that doesn't stop me from exploring and playing around with his character in ways like shipping (wether romantic or platonic).

A ship isn't always "this would be so cute and nice, and it's totally canon!" Sometimes it's "This relationship is fascinating, and exploring it further would be really interesting." It's really fun too.

Got too deep there for a moment lol. Anyways, thanks for reading until the end if you're still here and have a nice day. I'm out !

[watermelonlovershigh]

Wet the Bed

AN: i love writing these stories where something happens in the middle of the night to either y/n or their children. they're oddly comforting. i hope you enjoy. xoxo

This story contains: bed wetting, crying, comfort, mostly fluff

{ dadrry - husband!harry - soft!harry - au!harry }

word count- 1,173

Harry's son, Oliver, accidentally wets the bed in the middle of the night and is forced to wake up his dad for help.

The atmosphere in the house was quiet on this Thursday night. The only sounds that could be detected were the ticking of the large clock on the living room wall and the soft breaths of Harry as he slept alone in him and his wife's bed. (Y/n was on a business trip this week for her work and would return the following day.) Yet, at approximately three a.m., this peacefulness comes to an unexpected halt.

Down the hall from Y/n and Harry's bedroom was the room of their four-year-old son, Oliver. He'd been enjoying a restful sleep until he woke up to discover he'd accidentally wet himself. While Oliver is potty trained, he still experiences the occasional night-time mishap, an issue that Harry and his wife are trying to work on with their son. Since such accidents are a common part of childhood, they handle them with care and understanding.

Upon realizing that his pajama pants and bedding were wet with urine, Oliver's left with no choice but to climb out of his small twin size bed and walk to his parents' room down the hall. When he arrives at the door, he slowly turns the doorknob and steps into the darkened bedroom. Knowing his mum wasn't home, he quietly carries his tiny feet to his dad's side of the bed.

As Oliver stands beside the bed where Harry lies asleep, he realizes just how nervous he is about waking up his dad. Although Harry's never been anger when awakened in the middle of the night, the task still feels intimidating to his four year old self. Nevertheless, Oliver reaches out his small hand and begins to tap gently on his father's tattooed arm.

Harry jolts awake after feeling his arm being touched, and looks down to see his four year old son standing there. He sits up in bed and asks in a gravelly voice, "Ollie, what's the matter, baby? Got sick? Or had a bad dream?"

Oliver shakes his head no, now scared of his dad's reaction to the truth. He hadn't had an accident in almost six months and he's slightly older now. His dad might get upset with him.

"What is it, baby? Gotta tell daddy so I can help you."

Biting the bullet, Oliver replies quietly, "I had accident, daddy. Didn't mean to." Then out of nowhere, he starts crying, unable to control his young emotions.

Harry gets off the bed and kneels in front of Oliver, placing his hands gently on his son's shoulders. "Hey, it's okay. M' not mad or upset, baby. It's gonna be okay. Let's get you all cleaned up in your bathroom and I'll change your sheets, alright. Come on." He carefully reaches for Ollie's hand and guides him back to his room down the hall.

By the time they enter Oliver's bathroom, his crying has mostly stopped, though you could hear the occasional hiccup coming from his throat, and his eyelashes remained damp. Harry begin filling the bathtub up with warm water and helps Oliver remove his wet pajamas. Then after guiding his son into the warm bath water, he leaves the bathroom to change Ollie's soiled sheets.

Harry actually appreciates that it's only urine that dirtied Oliver's bedding tonight. He much prefers to change sheets that are stained with pee rather than those that've been soiled by vomit, a situation he's encountered on numerous occasions as a father so far. After replacing the wet sheets with a clean set, Harry returns to the bathroom to observe his son playing with the little mermaid dolls that he and Y/n had gifted him for Christmas, now serving as bath toys.

Oliver looks up at his father from his place in the bathtub and whines, "M' tired, daddy." It was three o'clock in the morning after all.

With a look of sympathy crossing his face, Harry kneels on the soft rug that's in front of the tub to help his son, Ollie, wash up. "I know, baby. Lets clean you off and then I'll tuck you back into bed." Oliver sits patiently in the bath water as his father uses his watermelon-scented body wash for kids to clean over his body. After that's done, he helps him step out of the bathtub and onto the bathmat to dry off. Ollie stands there, dripping and shivering, as his dad quickly grabs a towel from the stack located beneath the bathroom sink.

Harry softly acknowledges the cold, saying, "I know, I know. It's cold innit, baby" After drying Oliver off, he wraps him in the towel and lifts him effortlessly, before carrying him back to his bedroom to dress him in fresh clothing. Harry assists Ollie in putting on a dry pair of underwear and his Spiderman pajamas.

As Harry goes to place Oliver back into his now freshly made bed, the four year old begs, "Can I please sleep with you, daddy?"

Being aware that his son doesn't have a huge habit of sleeping with him and his wife, he nods in agreement. Oliver is generally good at sleeping in his own bed. So, on the rare occasions he does ask to join them, they usually agree. "Okay, buddy. Come on."

Harry gently lifts Oliver, now fully dressed, and proceeds from his son's room towards the bedroom he shares with his wife, right down the hall. Upon entering, he walks over to the king-sized bed and carefully places Ollie in the center before settling back into the covers on his side. After turning off the lamp, which makes the room envelop with darkness, he closes his eyes, preparing for sleep. However, he's interrupted by Oliver's small voice.

"Miss mummy."

Harry turns over to face his son and replies, "I know, baby. She'll be home tomorrow, though. The quicker we go back to sleep, the quicker we can see her, alright."

Ollie nods in understanding and demands, "Hold me, daddy."

Harry laughs before scooting closer to him to do just that. "Of course I'll hold you. Love you so much." He wraps his tattooed arms tightly around his four year old son's tiny body and they both begin to drift off to sleep.

----------------------------

The next morning, Y/n enters a quiet home, having just returned from her business trip. Although it's still somewhat early, she notes that Harry's normally awake by this time. Perhaps he had trouble falling asleep, she thinks to herself. She walks up the stairs and gently opens the door to their bedroom, discovering not only her husband peacefully sleeping on the bed, but also their son, Oliver.

Oliver was comfortably sprawled across Harry's chest, his tiny face nestled against his father's neck. Meanwhile, Harry lays spread-eagled in the middle of the bed. Y/n takes a moment to capture a quick photo with her phone before heading back downstairs, allowing her boys to enjoy some well-deserved rest. When they awake, she'll learn what occured in the middle of the night that created the need for that much needed sleep.

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

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taglist: @swiftmendeshoran // @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite // @hsonlyangelxo // @lunabai // @ppleasingg // @harryscherrysugar // @devilsqueen722 // @mema10 // @harryswifee // @jewelaponte // @fruity-harry // @triski73 // @chronicallybubbly

My Masterlist Masterpost

[moon-and-seafoam]

An analysis of Emperors Geta & Caracalla from “Gladiator II”

(*SPOILERS AHEAD!!*)

Hands down they were two of the most interesting characters from this movie and they deserved more screentime but thanks to the complete script and the actors' incredible performances we can gather a lot about their personality as individuals and dynamic as brothers.

Emperor Geta

The released script has confirmed that Geta was the first to be born and we had already kinda guessed it because of the way he behaved and how other characters used to address him for important matters.

He also had a more calculating and observant nature in comparison to his brother and he was certainly calmer. Nevertheless he was power hungry, slightly unhinged, hedonistic, selfish, naive, short-sighted and uncaring and blind about his people needs. The interesting thing is that he seemed genuinely hurt by Acacius' and Lucilla's betrayal which means that he genuinely wanted their respect and loyalty.

In the script there is a deleted scene where Geta and Caracalla asked from Lucilla to adopt them as her sons, which was a common practice back then to strengthen the bloodline. The Emperors knew that they had no right to the throne, so they made this offer to Lucilla, a daughter of a well-respected Caesar. It was a clear political move, especially from Geta's part (for Caracalla it's also something else which I will get into later).

Geta was a person that despite his cruelty he craved loyalty, admiration and respect. He wanted to be loved by his people but he didn't understand that he also had to take care of them. By mercilessly continuing his conquests he had deprived the people of food. Still he tried to gain that respect by controlling Lucilla just like he said in the script “He who controls the lady of Rome controls the people”.

When the riots began after Acacius' death, Geta seemed to have reached a point of desperation and was even seen hiding his face on a curtain and crying.

His relationship with his brother was both complex and immensely interesting. In a deleted scene they can be seen bickering and arguing and it is explicitly said that they were like this every day. But there was also love from both ends and Geta seemed to genuinely worry about his brother's health. When they were children Geta used his own body as a shield to protect Caracalla from their father's blows which clearly suggests that they had an abusive childhood and ever since then he had always protected him. It's also most certain that he didn't want Caracalla's health problems to become known in the empire and when Acacius' betrayal was revealed Geta was the one that calmed Caracalla's outburst which can also mean that this wasn't his first time restraining him. It was also interesting that when Geta lashed out at Caracalla and threw wine at his brother's face he seemed to be regretful after the anger slowly left him.

All those arguments that happened every day never made Geta love his brother less and even voiced his great concern for him to Macrinus about how he gets worse every day. Caracalla could be even slowly dying from his various diseases and Geta felt helpless.

When Caracalla attacked him the script said that Geta wasn't entirely surprised because he had experienced these kind of moods before. Therefore it's not improbable for Caracalla to have physically attacked Geta in the past. Even at that moment the latter seemed to reach his brother and almost made him change his mind but Macrinus showed up and ended everything.

Geta was really having a huge burden on his shoulders: His responsibilities as a ruler which he proved unable to fulfill and his role as a big brother who had to protect and care for his little brother. A role which he also failed because he underestimated Caracalla's insecurities and put his trust on the wrong person.

Emperor Caracalla

Caracalla was the one that had completely lost his sanity thanks to his various illnesses. The script has confirmed that he suffered from syphilis and lead poisoning and that's a lethal combination. And yes, both diseases can affect the brain:

Caracalla was shown to be impulsive, unpredictable, short-tempered, bloodthirsty and was neither clever nor perceptive as shown when he displayed joy at Lucius for killing his champion after loudly refusing the Emperors' mercy (an outrageous act at the time) and his inability to understand Macrinus' schemes and lies.

He was naive and behaved in a childlike manner which was unbecoming of an Emperor. He was also very hedonistic and seemed more absorbed into enjoying the pleasures and luxuries of his position (sex, food, drink etc.). He, furthermore, appeared to be even more promiscuous than his brother having both male and female concubines around him. In a deleted scene he was seen going with his brother and their concubines to their bedrooms which means they fucked in the same room and shared their concubines. Caracalla invited even Macrinus to their bed to show them his “might”. Even Geta was like "bro chill".

I found his relationship with Lucilla interesting. Apparently he appeared to have a special interest for her:

Lucilla could know this since she tried to reason with him not to kill Acacius and when she was ready to be thrown into the arena herself, he was hesitant to do it and even asked Macrinus if this was necessary (If you ask me he was ready to hit that milf)

But that doesn't mean that he also didn't feel jealousy and anger for the love that the Roman people had for her. In his own words “We give them everything. What has she given them?”. Poor Caracalla didn't understand that his unpopularity came from the way his father took the throne while Lucilla was the daughter of a beloved Caesar. He certainly wasn't the brightest in the room since he failed to comprehend that his disinterest for the people made him unpopular thanks to his famous movie line “They can eat war!”.

His monkey, Dondus, was his comfort animal. He loved and cared for it. It was his companion and friend. It brought him joy and in return he spoiled it with food, clothes and even the seat of the First Consul. He was highly protective of it and, in a deleted scene, he even shouted at Geta for the latter's treatment of it.

But his relationship with his brother was the most engaging one. Apparently Caracalla was having delusions about Geta. He claimed that he tried to kill him by asphyxiating him in the womb with the umbilicus (something that is probably unlikely since it's impossible to remember something like this) and that he always lies to him. It's more possible that the diseases had heavily affected his brain and made him forget or alter things. The script even calls it "dementia" which is something really sad to have at such a young age.

Caracalla felt inferior to his brother and he never had anything that was completely his. He suffered from insecurities and when he presented himself as Emperor to the Senate he said: “Now I am the only one. I was the true us, and he was the false me. We were always "we", all our lives, but now I am only I, me, alone”. (Which is a badass line and we got robbed but that's a talk for another day)

When he cut his brother's hand and smiled I believe he did as if to say "look he bleeds" and probably because he felt relief in finally hurting him the way his brother "hurt" him all that time. But in the end he couldn't do it. He couldn't kill his brother and showed not only hesitation but also got teary-eyed by Geta's words. If Macrinus wasn't there to help, Geta would be able to reason with him.

But it's kind of peculiar how he claimed that “My hand held the blade, but my Father's hand guided mine. I was the puppet, dancing on his string” (rip to another amazing quote) even though their father was abusive. We can only blame this to his insanity.

Sadly, Caracalla seemed to worsen mentally after his brother's death as the script also said.

He couldn't even remember what he had done.

And something else which also points to his insecurity is the throne which he picked to sit on the final game:

In his final moments he felt the same way Geta did: helpless and afraid.

Died alone on his brother's throne.

(special shoutout to Joseph Quinn and Fred Hechinger. They were given so little screentime and yet they delivered thanks to their incredible work 🛐)

[starastrologyy]

Moon in partner’s Houses in Synastry 🤍

Moon in Partner’s 1st house

When your Moon falls into your partners 1st house, a close emotional bond is often indicated. 1st house overlays tend to create a sense of “like-mindedness” between two people. Thus, the pair are likely to feel as if they are “kindred spirits”. The Moon person intuitively understands the motivations and feelings of the Ascendant person, vise versa. This overlay can indicate feelings of comfort and ease between the two individuals . As with all overlays, you want to see how the planets are aspected. Thus, If the Moon person’s Moon adversely aspects many of the house person’s planets, the Moon individual has the potential to significantly impact the house persons confidence levels, and the manner in which they show up in the world. However, if well-aspected, the Moon person can remarkably increase the Ascendent persons self-confidence. This is an overlay that you often see between two people who can often tell what the other is feeling, just by looking at them.

Moon in Partner’s 2nd house

With this overlay, the house person can feel as if the Moon person provides them with a sense of emotional security. Moreover, this overlay also contends that the Moon person has the ability to significantly impact the house person’s finances and feelings of self-worth. In some instances, the Moon person can become emotionally invested in matters related to the house persons finances and possessions. Whereas, the house person can become emotionally dependent on the Moon person (and vise versa). There is the potential for feelings of possessiveness to develop in this union. However, the 2nd house emphasizes the need for comfort and stability. Thus, the pair are inclined to feel emotionally “grounded” around each other. If the Moon is adversely aspected, the two can have a negative impact on each other’s finances and self-worth. Nevertheless, the pair will likely build an emotional connection that is largely based on their shared values.

Moon in partner’s 3rd house

Emotions between the pair can often be intellectualized with this overlay. However, the ability to communicate about how each person is feeling is enhanced. This overlay is common to see in the charts of couples who enjoy vocalizing their emotions to each other. Alternatively, you can often see this overlay between school peers, friends, or siblings. In a romantic relationship, there can be a strong intellectual connection and a distinct communicative resonance between the pair. Hence, these two are likely to learn a lot from each other. The Moon person tends to feel comfortable with the manner in which the house person communicates and processes mental information. Whereas, the house person can feel as if the Moon person encourages them to open up, and vocalize their emotions/feelings. Although this is not a very ‘romantic’ overlay, it can increase the communicative compatibility, and intellectual comfortability between two people.

Moon in Partner’s 4th house

This is an exceptionally emotionally intimate overlay, as the Moon is essentially “at home” in the 4th house. It is possible that the 4th house person feels comfortable opening up to the Moon person about their childhood or their family dynamics. These two are inclined to share information with each other that they would not ordinarily tell people. There is a strong sense of emotional security and comfort between the pair. Thus, this is an overlay that you commonly see in long-term friendships and romantic relationships. Furthermore, the Moon person is able to nurture the house person in ways that make them feel safe and understood. If the Moon adversely aspects the house persons natal planets, the Moon person has the potential to trigger very painful memories or emotional reactions in the house person. In non-romantic relationships, this overlay can create a familial bond and a natural emotional resonance between two people. At its best, a 4th house Moon overlay can indicate an emotional bond that is compassionate, forgiving, and enduring.

Moon in Partner’s 5th house

This is often a very jovial, lighthearted, and pleasurable overlay. There is a “playfulness” to the emotions that are expressed between the two people. Interestingly, It is common to see a 5th house Moon overlay in the synastry charts of people who have children together. The Moon person stimulates the House person’s desire for romance, fun, creativity, and pleasure. Whereas, the Moon person is attracted to the house person’s approach to casual dating, creativity, children, and hobbies. The pair often bond over their shared interests and hobbies. Although the 5th house is not known to produce ‘staying power’, it can definitely add to the attraction that two people have towards each other over time. Long term couples that have 5th house synastry overlays (it is possible to find them despite what is often said) essentially ‘never stop dating’. Thus, the passion and attraction tends to remain consistent (or strengthens) over time.

Moon in Partner’s 6th house

With this overlay, the Moon person can become very emotionally invested in the house person’s physical health, work, and daily routines. Whereas, the house person can feel supported by the Moon person , when it comes to how they approach their daily routines, work habits, and physical health. If well-aspected, these two are likely to be more productive together than they are apart. However, if adversely aspected, the Moon person can feel emotionally drained for having to take on too many of the house person’s responsibilities. In turn, the house person can feel as if the Moon person is too ‘nitpicky’, critical, or overly involved in their daily affairs. Although this is also not an inherently romantic overlay, the two people are likely to become attached to each other, as they are inclined to see the other as being an integral part of their daily routines or day to day life! At its best, this overlay can produce an emotional bond that is based on service, mutual assistance, practicality, and productivity.

Moon in Partner’s 7th house

This is one of the best overlays to have in romantic synastry. The manner in which the Moon person expresses their emotions tends to appeal to the house person. Hence, one can assert that the Moon person has many of the emotional qualities that the house person is inclined to look for in a long-term partner. This is a common overlay to see in the charts of married couples. This is because they each stimulate the others emotional desire for commitment. When your Moon falls into someone’s 7th house (or vise versa) you are apt to be more tolerant of them. However, the 7th house is also the house of open-enemies. Thus, disagreements or an emotional discord between the two can become public knowledge. Despite this, this overlay can create an emotional connection that is firmly rooted in compromise, equality, and partnership. A 7th house Moon overlay can also be a very beneficial overlay in a business partnership!

Moon in Partner’s 8th house

This can be a very intense synastry overlay. It is also an interesting one, as it is often said that the Moon person tends to “feel” this energy more. However, I would assert that you would need to look at the synastry chart holistically, and the individual natal charts to see who is inclined to ‘feel it more’. Nevertheless, this overlay can produce a dynamic between two people that is very hard to walk away from. The Moon person can often become very emotionally invested in the house person. Thus, the pair can find themselves intensely drawn to each other. Hence, elements of jealousy, obsession, power dynamics, and control often emerge. In its best manifestation, this can be a very emotionally healing overlay. The house person can find themselves wanting to open up about their trauma, crises, or painful emotional experiences. In it’s worst manifestation, the pair can find themselves feeling constantly triggered or manipulated by the other. This overlay is known to produce somewhat irrational feelings and behaviors. However, a positive manifestation is that the pair have the potential to help each other transform, evolve, and heal. There is the possibility that the two will form an emotional connection that is incredibly ‘deep’, intimate, and binding.

Moon in Partner’s 9th house

This is a very expansive overlay, and it is one that is highly underrated. The Moon person has the potential to impact the house person’s belief systems and worldviews. The Moon person is also likely to admire the house person’s optimism, intellect, and approach to foreign travel or higher education. Whereas the house person can feel as if the Moon person’s emotional nature is one that aligns with their core beliefs. This is another overlay that contends that the two will learn a lot from each other. If it is well aspected, the pair are likely to form an emotional connection that is strengthened by their shared beliefs and philosophies. There is also the potential that the two will introduce each other to new ideologies, cultural concepts, and ways of emotionally relating to others. The pair can also stimulate each other’s desire for travel, growth, and spontaneity. Interestingly, this overlay asserts that the manner in which they relate emotionally to each other, is inclined to be quite open-minded and accepting. A shared love for learning, travel, and adventure is often indicated by 9th house overlays.

Moon in Partner’s 10th house

The Moon person can become emotionally invested in the house person’s career affairs with this overlay. This is a wonderful overlay to have with someone you intend to work with or do business with! However, in a romantic relationship there can be an over-emphasis on the career or how they appear to others as a couple. Thus, one or both people can be overly concerned about how other people perceive their connection, rather then trying to foster a genuine close emotional connection. It must be said that people who are highly saturnian, career-oriented, or earth dominant can function very well under this influence. The house person can often feel as if the Moon person provides them with emotional support and encouragement, when it comes to their career pursuits. Whereas, the Moon person can be inspired by the manner in which the house person approaches their worldly ambitions and career objectives.

Moon in Partner’s 11th house

This is a wonderful overlay for friendship, as it creates feelings of genuine appreciation and “liking” of one another. The Moon person can become emotionally invested in the house person’s aspirations, networks, and friendships. Alternatively, it could be that the pair bond over their shared goals and mutual friendships. This is a good overlay to see in platonic relationships. However, in a romantic relationship the two can feel as if they are both lovers and friends! Interestingly, the pair can be very accepting of each other’s emotional quirks and eccentricities with this overlay. The Moon person often feels emotionally accepted by the house person. Whereas, the house person can feel encouraged by the Moon person to pursue their hopes and dreams. Emotional tolerance and unconditional acceptance are key themes here.

Moon in Partner’s 12th house

The 12th house in Astrology is often considered a “karmic” house. Thus, this can be an incredibly binding overlay between two people. The 12th house person can often feel emotionally exposed around the Moon person. However, the Moon person can feel as if the house person is elusive or difficult to read at times. Hence, the dynamic between the two can be confusing or unclear with this overlay. If well-aspected, this placement can foster a healing, intuitive, and forgiving emotional bond between two people. The House person is inclined to want to open up to the Moon person about all of their past traumas and experiences. Despite this, the Moon person may feel mistrustful of the house person, or feel as if they cannot fully “figure them out”. Thus, transparency, patience, and total honesty is the best way to navigate this energy. If the Moon is well-aspected, the pair may feel as if they have found their “soulmate” in each other, or a person who understands them on a deeper more profound level. In its best manifestation, this overlay can create an emotional connection between two people that is highly spiritual, transcendent, and compassionate.

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[gotham-daydreams]

Suspicions

Day 3 {Challenge Masterlist}

Getting close, but not close enough. Something's wrong here. How could they have known? Who did this?

[Yandere Batfam × Gender Neutral! Cop Reader]

[Warnings: Mentions of suicide (only briefly talked about in dialog), cults, occult like acctivites, weird behavior (?), arson (sort of).] (Note: Unless otherwise specified, it's to be believed that actions involved with harming, hurting, or heavily injuring the self are not talking about the Batfamily or the reader. Still, you have been warned.)

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Unlike the previous two days, this one starts off rather eventful - which is honestly more common and normal than anyone in the Wayne family liked to admit, but really, it wasn’t their fault they all just worked better in chaos. Nevertheless, for those that weren’t up already, the day is smooth sailing until they exit their rooms - or wherever they slept - and are left to find what’s happened in the batcave.

Tim is one of the last to find out, as he just gets his slow morning started - grabbing a cup of tea to help him wake up instead of coffee, rubbing his eyes to get the tiredness out of them, and starting things off officially with a plate of breakfast. Once that’s done and out of the way, he finally gives himself a good, simple stretch before heading down to the batcave. It’s only there, does he see the mess unfolding.

It’s subtle, sure, but with how long Tim has technically been a Wayne, well, he can tell when something’s going on. Bruce is drinking coffee, and Cassandra, while out of the suit, already looks to be itching to put it back on again. Tim noticed that Stephanie had slept over while he was on his way to the kitchen earlier, but didn’t think much about it - though what caught his attention was the fact that not only was Jason here, but that he was awake. Huh.

“What’s going on here?” Tim asks, voice having its usual echo as he takes a sip of his tea, approaching the little crowd by the batcomputer - taking note of Barbara’s presence as well, have any of them slept?

Cassandra seems to take note of him first, and perks up, though just as she goes to supposedly explain what they’re doing, Jason cuts her off. Instead, he straightens himself out, and asks, “Hey, have you or any of your birds seen anyone weird around, lately? Like, extra shady or just new? Like they come from out of the city?”

Tim raises a brow at the question, “This is Gotham? Every other person looks like someone shady- and what does ‘extra shady’ even mean? And besides, Gotham is a big city, newcomers come in and out everyday,” he points out, and though his response only gets an annoyed groan out of Jason, he can’t help but remain curious, “why? What’s going on this time?”

Jason seems to ignore Tim’s own question, and instead asks, “Okay, have you seen anyone with some weird symbol on them? Something simple that represents a sun, maybe on their neck, wrists, arm, or just some exposed part of their body?”

“Uh, no, I haven’t,” Just as Jason looks like he’s going to throw something, or someone, Tim adds, “but I think a few of the birds have, and- hey, some new officers came in from Metropolis, right? What’s up with that?”

Just as Jason goes to open his mouth again, Cassandra gives him a nudge, and gestures for Tim to come over.

From there, he’s given the gist, and he has the reasonable reaction of just, being confused. While he understands what’s going on, what he doesn’t get is the supposed group itself. While they do seem to be working towards this ‘Red Dawn’, is it something they’re working towards, or merely preparing for? Is there something on that specific day that will happen, and will allow… well, whatever they’re hoping for, to happen? There are a lot of things that are undetermined, but Tim is on board with the general goal - they have to learn more about these people, what they want, and put a stop to it since it has to be something bad that people are killing themselves over it. You were right when you said that the only people they were hurting were themselves, but they were still people, and what if their influence spreads? What if they rope in more people, only for them to die-

Duke rushes into the cave, a smile of sorts on his face and he hurries around the space, gathering a few things here and there - mostly his gear, but some other things too - quickly, as if in a hurry. It was hard not to notice, seeing as he was the only real movement going on in the room and it drew the attention of those at the computer. Tim was the first to question it, asking, “What’s the rush?”

“Patrol!” It was an easy enough answer, but something felt off about it, though Tim couldn’t put a finger on it - no one really could, but those that were paying more attention did notice something.

“Hey, aren’t you forgetting something?” Barbara points out, and Duke pauses, chuckling briefly before grabbing his helmet.

“Right- thanks! Anyway, gotta go-!” With that, the young vigilante rushes out of the cave after hurriedly putting on his suit and gear. A few of those in the cave stare, raising a couple of brows or just looking confused before ultimately returning to what they were doing – even if such a sight weirded them out. Cassandra, however, couldn’t help but narrow her eyes at the sight as she watched Duke rush out of the cave.

He seemed… really excited to be going on patrol… hm.

Duke could hardly focus on where his feet were going as he rushed out of the house, a warm sort of feeling blooming in his chest as he made his way out of the cave, and through the front door – nearly bumping into someone on the way out. Even if he was able to just barely move out of the way, a quick, “Sorry! I’ve really got to go, Selina!” Leaves him, the words tumbling out of his mouth like how he almost trips over the single step in front of the door. Leaving behind a confused but amused catwoman all the while.

Getting to the city is easy enough, and even more so with a small tug in his chest seemingly guiding Duke somewhere. Does he know where? Not particularly, but he can’t help but have a good feeling about this.

Dropping down in an alley, Duke peaks around a corner to get a glimpse of the city before slipping out – only to bump into someone… somehow.

Shaking it off, he goes to say something – only to stop himself when he sees who it is, what a coincidence. “Oh, [Last Name], what’re you doing here?”

You glance over your shoulder, and raise your brow at the sight of the teenager, “Grabbing breakfast? Why else would I be waiting in line at this breakfast spot?” A small, amused chuckle escapes you as you offer a hand to help him up, and it’s only then that Duke notices he fell at all.

“Oh! Yeah, that… um, makes sense?” Grasping your hand, he pulls himself up and glances to the side awkwardly. This wasn’t very professional, was it? As a vigilante, he was supposed to be better than this – and more, well, vigilant! He had to get it together, he couldn’t embarrass himself in front of you!

Clearing his throat, Duke meets your eyes once again, “Seems like things are busy here, huh?” Just what the hell was he trying to do? Duke couldn’t understand – he had patrol to do, he couldn’t just sit here and make small talk-

“I guess you could say that, it does seem busier than it has been the last few days, but nevermind that- what’re you doing here, Thomas?” Your grip loosens on his hand, but Duke can’t find it in himself to let go. Not after what you just said, and so casually at that – like knowing his secret identity was common knowledge and not, well, secret!

Duke’s mind races, with him staring at you like your face alone will provide all the answers, and in the midst of his disbelief, a breathless, stunned, “What?” Slips past his lips, and your brows seem to furrow.

“Is something wrong, Thomas-?”

“How-” Duke can barely even speak, his eyes blown wide. He wants to pull away, but it’s like your hand is the only thing keeping him grounded – making him almost hate how real it feels, especially as his hold tightens. With him now grasping onto it like he’s both afraid to let go, and desperate to cling onto something, but what? Duke doesn’t know. Hell, he’s almost scared to know, and that confuses him even more. “How do you know who I am?” It’s a simple question, but it’s spoken so quietly and hesitantly that it’s like Duke himself is unsure if he should’ve spoken at all, or if he even said it to begin with. As if, for a moment, he couldn’t tell if he managed to speak at all, or if his eyes and the way his hand shook had asked the question for him.

It’s beyond confusing, and honestly making Duke’s head hurt the more he tries to make sense of everything. The world spins, and yet zeros in on this moment at the same time, and Duke almost feels like he’s about to fall or even collapse all over again-

Then, he sees your smile and how you turn more towards him, and it’s like he can breathe all over again.

“Well, you’re adopted- or at least being taken care of by Mr. Wayne- aren’t you? It’s pretty hard to not know you, Thomas, especially in Gotham. Which- is sort of like Mr. Wayne’s little empire, don’t you think?” You respond easily, words almost playful as you carefully rest your other hand over his – most would pull away or tell him to stop because of how much it hurts, but you don’t. Almost like you can’t feel it, or just see how much the small action means to him – to hold onto something steady, unmoving, and undeniably real in this moment of confusion, dread, and fear. Maybe it’s both, but who’s to say.

Duke struggles to respond, only managing to stutter out an, “I-” a few times before you decide to spare him once more.

“Granted, I’m surprised to see you out and about so early. A growing boy like you needs his rest, doesn’t he?” Your fingers brush against the back of his hand, and it’s only then that Duke realizes that he’s feeling it on his skin, not though his gloves or suit – and he finally looks down. When… did he put on civilian clothes?

Regardless, he can’t help but ease. The tight tension in his shoulders drops, and Duke exhales, relieved. “Right- well, I was just out grabbing a quick bite to eat. Always good to get outta the house, yeah?” He replies easily, the excuse coming easy to him – and as if on cue, his stomach rumbles… Did he eat breakfast this morning? When’s the last time he’s forgotten something like that?

Your expression softens, and you give a small shrug, “‘Suppose you’re right, can’t really argue with that.” You glance down at his stomach before looking back at the teen, and pull your hand back – an action that makes Duke’s hand twitch before he lets it fall back to his side. “How about you join me?”

Duke can’t help but be taken aback by your request, and stammers a little as he straightens up and says, “I couldn’t- I can’t-”

“Oh, c’mon. It’ll just be a little bite, and besides, I’ve already got a table. Breakfast’s on me, yeah?”

“I really shouldn’t-”

“[Last Name]?” A waiter calls out, causing you to perk up.

“Ah, that must be it! Now, c’mon,” you gesture for Duke to follow you inside, “I promise I won’t keep you long. But consider this my thanks for yesterday- I definitely underestimate how big Gotham really is.”

The young vigilante hesitates, unsure if he should follow you or try to decline again. After all, he still had patrol – and with this weird group going around, he couldn’t afford to just go off and push aside his duty for breakfast, could he? In situations like this, it was best to stay on top of things and remain vigilant, wasn’t it?

Duke feels his stomach growl much more insistently this time, and he can practically feel the painful pinch of the void growing inside it… It wouldn’t be good if he did patrol on an empty stomach, would it? After all, he had to be in top shape to properly perform his duties, right? Being on an empty stomach wouldn’t do him any good, and would only hinder him further…

“You comin’, Thomas?” The teen’s feet before he could fully process your words, but he offers a nod and agreement all the same.

Bruce would understand, right?

The waiter leads you and Duke to a booth, and from there, things go smoothly. The silence isn’t as bad as one would think, and for those that didn’t know any better – they’d think you were friends or had some friendly relation since conversation flowed seamlessly and easily. It wasn’t long before your orders were made, with you encouraging Duke to order whatever he liked, and the wait was practically nonexistent. Though, that’s only to be expected when you two got along so well. It may have been weird in any other circumstance, but here, it wasn’t. It was natural, just like everything else was.

Really, only those on the outside looking in could notice anything, and someone eventually did.

Cassandra had felt that something was weird, and with how Duke’s body language had read this morning, she couldn’t help but be curious. Not to mention worried, especially since they had enough things to worry about. So, seeing her brother eating with a cop from Metropolis was… weird to say the least. It felt weirder knowing it was you for some reason, but she couldn’t explain why. You couldn’t have possibly been the reason for Duke’s excitement, could you? No, that didn’t make any sense – unless… you knew each other previously? Would Duke have left something like that out?

Just seeing something like this spawned too many questions, and Cassandra wasn’t getting any from standing across the street. Especially not when your body language reads as calm, happy, and oddly enough – full of energy, along with a trace of confidence. With Duke being almost… too happy, too calm and content for someone that was supposed to be a stranger. You were helping them on the case, of course, but they didn’t know you as civilians. They weren’t supposed to, and yet Duke didn’t have the suit on – where was it?

… She could stand there until you both left, but something told her that wasn’t going to get her anywhere either. Something told her that she had to approach, if only to confront you and get Duke out of there herself. To help him get back on track if anything, and to get some sort of explanation if she was smart about things.

So, approaching the establishment, Cassandra steps inside and wastes no time heading over to where you and Duke are sitting. Resisting the urge to just grab you by the collar and get answers out of you, she simple rests a hand on your shoulder and gives it a squeeze – which is more than enough to grab your attention.

Looking up at her, a confused expression passes by before another bright smile rests and makes itself home on your face. “Ah, You must be Cain, correct? Or would you prefer Cain-Wayne?” A light laugh escapes as you add, “It’s a bit of a tongue twister, but the choice is really yours, young one.”

Surprised, Cassandra can’t help but blink before her expression hardens and he brows furrow. Taking note of her confusion, you simply say, “I haven’t been here for long, but word travels fast in Gotham! Besides, who wouldn’t know about the children Mr. Wayne has taken in? You’re all a very common topic amongst the city folk, and from your expression – I’m willing to assume you’re surprised to hear that.” There was something in your tone that made those last few words of yours almost sound sarcastic. Cassandra couldn’t pinpoint what it was, but it made her narrow her eyes all the same. What were you trying to get at-?

“Cass?” Hearing Duke’s voice makes Cassandra glance at him for a moment, and the look in his eyes rubs her the wrong way. He shouldn’t have an expression like that, not for a stranger, even if you are from Metropolis. “What’re you doing here? I thought you were still… home.” The small pause in his words doesn’t slip past her, and it certainly doesn’t make Cassandra feel any better either, but it isn’t enough to make her leave.

Even as she doesn’t say anything, her eyes say enough, and you notice how Duke tenses slightly while under her gaze. You don’t understand what they’re saying, or whatever they seem to be communicating, but you’re not bothered by it. Communication was a universal thing, after all, and you’ve seen many people find all sorts of ways to do it – with or without words. It’s something you’ve picked up on with time, but that’s a given considering things.

Nevertheless, you speak up and interrupt… whatever it is that’s going on here. “Why don’t you join us, Cain? Thomas was just finishing up, but it’s like they say; the more the merrier!”

Cassandra seems taken aback by your offer, and so does Duke, but you only focus on her for now. Despite not having said a word, it’s like you can feel her growing quieter, and just as you go to say something else, she glances at Duke before promptly taking a seat next to him – nearly pushing him towards the window just to create some space for herself.

Naturally, Duke responds with a surprised, “Hey!” At the sudden intrusion of his space, but ultimately does little to get it back, and instead moves over to grant Cassandra her desired space.

From there, you carry on as you did before, but the younger ones across from you seem awkward – you can’t decipher a reason for this, not on your own, but a few eventually come to you and you try to work around it as best you can. At the start, things are strained and it’s obvious that there is something more than what both are deciding to show. Which, while smart, is inconvenient at best.

Regardless, you do what you can to spark conversation. Duke responds well enough after a few questions that ease him back into the flow of things, but Cassandra takes a while longer. Though that only makes sense since she’s just gotten into things, and is only starting to get into that flow as well. It’s not hard to notice that she’s simply just observing for now, and most likely wants to keep it that way, but you didn’t make that offer for her to just watch.

You start with something to drink, offering coffee since that seemed to be a common choice around here, and even take a sip of your own beverage while you were at it, and ask if Duke wanted anything else. It’s always the little things that count, but of course Cassandra remains as she is, and doesn’t respond. It’s only after a good minute or so does she get something, though if it’s to ‘blend in’ easier or because she genuinely wanted something to drink, you couldn’t tell – but that didn’t matter. Eventually, she gives you small responses by nodding or shaking her head, among other small gestures that seem to give just enough information to count as some sort of reaction. Cassandra was responding and reacting more to things Duke was saying, but that didn’t bother you. She was beginning to ease up, and that’s what ultimately counts.

Then, you’re given a golden opportunity as her stomach gives a small rumble. It’s barely noticeable, and not even Duke hears it, but Cassandra does and you notice her reaction well enough to tell. Of course, you give her the same offer you gave to Duke earlier – and even if she is more hesitant and reluctant, you take a risk and push things as you get her something. Just as before, the wait is hardly long at all – even if Cassandra seemed to feel it more than you did – and when it comes, it takes her a bit to even poke at it, but she caves eventually.

From there, everything eases just as it did before. Whatever you picked, she ends up liking it, and the conversation flows much better now that Cassandra is less tense. Your smile from before remains, and the morning carries on splendidly.

However, as with all things, it eventually comes to an end as you get a notification on your mobile device, and a small huff escapes you. Things are coming along, but it’s time to call it – you’ve been here long enough. You signal for the check, and once it arrives, you simply say, “Well this has been nice, hasn’t it? I don’t know what I expected, but I’m pleasantly surprised by both of you. This has been… eye opening, as one would say,” you muse, another light laugh escaping you, “but I’ve kept you both for long enough. I’m sure you both have places to be.” You don’t even look as the waiter takes the check back after you slip on your Rose Bank card.

Duke seems to tense slightly, and stops you from standing as he shoots up from his seat, “Wait, do you have to go right now? If there’s anywhere you need to go, I could take you-” You wave him off, and shake your head.

“There’s no need, I know my way around well enough, but thank you-” Cassandra moves to stand as well, and before she can even fully get out, Duke scrambles to get out of the booth and stand in front of you.

“You just got here a bit ago, right? I’m sure I can still help-”

“Thomas, I assure you I’m fine. I’m just heading back to the station,” you handle the check and slip your card back into your wallet when the waiter comes back around. Duke struggles to speak, and Cassandra seems concerned. Hm.

Exhaling softly, you give the teen a pat on his shoulder, “If anything happens, remember, you can always contact the GCPD if need be, alright?” Duke didn’t seem too pleased with that response, but all it takes is one more long look before he averts his gaze and nods.

“Yeah, yeah… alright.” You grin, and give him another pat.

“Perfect! See you around, kid!” With that, you leave without a second thought, feeling more confident then before – and Cassandra could tell. Of course she could, but before she could think about why you were going to the station this early in the day, her eyes drift back to Duke, and she can’t help but pause. His body language and overall attitude is completely different now… but… why? What could have made him so upset?

The young vigilante glances up when she hears the small bell of the door, indicating your leave… and she doesn’t know why, but she can’t help but feel disappointed.

— — — — — —

Making your way to the station is easy enough, and as you check the time, you hear someone clear their throat behind you. Just in time.

You turn around, and are greeted by the sight of blue eyes and dark hair – honestly, if his face shape was different, you’d think he was Bruce. It’s almost weird that they aren’t biologically related, but that’s the funny thing about genetics, you suppose.

Nevertheless, you offer a smile as always, “I got your call, but I didn’t expect to be meeting you in Gotham this soon, Grayson. You really are punctual. Though noon is an odd time to meet up, don’t you think?” Richard – or as everyone apparently calls him, Dick – just gives a smile of his own that borders on a smirk, and shrugs nonchalantly.

“Couldn’t think of a better time, and besides, it isn’t that bad. It’s just in time for lunch!” You hum at his response, finding it a bit curious before giving a nod.

“Well, when you put it like that it almost sounds smart,” You chuckle out, watching as his face contorts slightly. “Regardless, I got your call. You wanted to discuss the case?”

Dick doesn’t seem to appreciate your little jab, nor how you brush past it so fast – but just huffs before giving a nod. “Yeah, some guys said you’d know some things…? Or that someone here did?” You raise a brow before a look of confusion settles on your face.

“A few of us here do, but the one that would know the most would be detective Greenwood,” yet, you pause, as if thinking for a moment before adding, “I assume the situation in Bludhaven has gotten worse?”

The sigh that escapes him is telling enough, even more so with how he rubs the back of his neck, and the nod he gives is almost guilty. “Yeah… and even saying that feels like you’re sugar coating it.” Hm, must be like Metropolis then – that’s good to know. “I guess Ludwig told you?”

“Among a few other things, but just gave a general idea,” Dick visibly deflates at your words, and so, as if extending an olive branch of sorts, you gesture to a cafe nearby. “How about we get you some coffee and a quick bite to eat, hm? Can’t imagine getting here was an easy trip.”

Dick’s practically already following you to the small shop when you make your offer, and a low, exaggerated groan escapes him. “You don’t even know the half of it, it’s like Gotham’s become some highly sought out tourist destination overnight! It’s insanity, I tell you- makes no sense! The people who live here don’t like it enough as it is, why would anyone else want to be here?”

You shrug your shoulders, and guide both of you over to the cafe, “Not a clue, but it is weird when you put it like that. But maybe it’s nothing, who knows? We’ve got enough to deal with, anyway.”

“Tell me about it… not like there's anyone around here that wants to deal with this kind of weather. It feels way too warm for fall, if you ask me.” Dick mumbles, making his way over to the counter to order, and you only partially shrug, giving another nod in half agreement. You didn’t feel a difference, but it could just be because you’re used to it.

“I guess so,” you say, pulling out your wallet to pay – seeing as you offered to begin with. Obviously, Dick notices and doesn’t move to stop you, but can’t help but raise a brow.

“Aren’t you going to get anything?”

You glance at him for a moment before huffing softly, almost as if amused by what he said, and just hand the cashier your Rose Bank card to pay.

“I had a filling brunch.”

— — — — — — — — — — — —

Despite everything that’s been going on, this is probably one of their more organized efforts to tackle the night – which is really saying something, since there’s always been attempts, but it’s hard to be orderly amidst chaos. Something that Gotham practically breeds, even if this particular strain comes from out of town.

Tim and Duke are in the manor running tests on the organic material Stephanie and Jason had managed to get from the other night, with Barbara doing similar work in the clock tower. The others are out in the city, with Bruce running some things by Gordon, Selina being god knows where, and the others tracking some shipment while taking care of minor crimes and such along the way.

It’s almost… weird how coordinated this ‘cult’ seems to be, not to mention just how many people seem to be in on this thing. There didn’t seem to be an exact number at the moment, and if they really did split up, then there may even be more members that they weren’t aware of that have taken refuge outside of Gotham-

Point is, there were definitely a lot of people in this cult. Maybe even too many to coordinate and organize, at least for them to work so in sync with one another as they were now. It’d make more sense if they were only in Gotham, but until they got Clark’s report, no one could be sure of that – even if Dick responding so readily when Bruce had called him in was telling enough on its own. There was also the possibility of there being multiple organizers and leaders for this, which seems like the obvious choice, but even so – who could get a system in place that works this smoothly? It’s almost unnatural. Uncanny, even. Not to mention it doesn’t make sense if there’s no incentive for these people to be doing all of this-

Tim couldn’t figure it out, anyway. It felt like there was still so much they didn’t know yet, and like one thing was happening right after the other. Despite not being out in the city himself, he could use his birds as his eyes to see outside while he remained in the cave – so, in a way he was also tracking the cult. What Tim found weird himself is that you didn’t think the cult had a proper name, or that they weren’t called after the event all of these groups seem to be working towards. It made the most logical sense that they would be, or at least something similar to it – but you, someone who's been working on this case longer than anyone they knew at the moment, disagreed. Why? Regardless, aside from this supposed ‘Red Dawn’, what incentive did… well, anyone have to be a part of the cult to begin with? Did the event itself grant them something? What even was the Red Dawn? What did it have to do with all this soil and sand?

There were too many questions and not enough answers, but he supposes that’s why they’re even investigating to begin with. Though, if Tim had a say in this – it feels too organized to be something that only started three or so days ago. Have they really only been in Gotham for just a couple of days? If what his birds are seeing is real, then it’s more likely that they’ve been here for months-

[“Oh, would you look at that? They split again. Geez, really makes you wonder why they’re moving this stuff around like this. Seems ssseriously inefficient if you ask me.” Jason’s voice sparks in the commlink, tone sarcastic and rough.]

[“Agreed, there hardly seems to be a purpose to such tactics.” Damian huffs, going quiet for a moment only to add, “Unless they really are trying to distract us.”]

Tim perks up at this, and uses a nearby bird to perch on top of one of the telephone lines that go across the street. Watching as the next load of… whatever this cult was hauling and bringing around, drives off down the street. Some of it in a truck, and the other half of it in various cars. Not exactly subtle, but it would be hard to keep track of it all if one person was trying to keep tabs on things. Especially if said person was human.

[“Gonna have to agree with you guys, these people… they’re doing something, alright.” Stephanie chimes in, the suspicion clear in her voice.]

“What does that mean?” Tim can’t help but ask, trying to focus on the sample he’s analyzing, but can’t help but focus more on what his birds are seeing – especially when it’s more interesting the shuffling through samples of dirt.

[Stephanie sighs, “Seems like they’re trying to spread this stuff all around. Parks, gardens, bakeries, flower shops- all kinds of places, and from the looks of things? Whatever they’re doing here, it’s getting to other civilians as well. Guards and employees are helping them, and not just to open the back door either.”]

[“Someone open the front door?” Jason asks rhetorically.]

[Stephanic stiffs a chuckle, but Cassandra responds with a curt, “Yes. And storage.”]

[Jason was quiet for a moment before a small, “... Right, ‘course they did.”]

With his birds, Tim is able to follow as many trails as he can – and upon noticing a particularly weird detail, his brows furrow. “They… looped back around.”

[“Yep, I see them. Right back at the gardens… weird.” Stephanie confirms, sounding equally confused.]

[“They’re obviously trying to play us, but why? So they can plant more of this… red shit everywhere?” Jason can’t help but question.]

Tim shakes his head, which the closest bird to Jason and Damian emulates, “No, that doesn’t make sense. They’ve got loads of this stuff all over Gotham- I don’t see why they’d need more, unless…” He grows quiet, thinking for a moment before he looks down at the sample he’s supposed to be examining. Were they thinking of this the wrong way?

[“Unless… what?” Stephanie asks.]

He tries to think of a way to explain it, fumbling for a moment before just saying, “Well, do we even know what this stuff does?”

[“That’s what we have you looking at it for, yeah? Shouldn’t you or Barbara, or hell- even Duke know?” Jason chips in again.]

[Damian sucks his teeth, “Of course you can’t even do the one job we actually give you, Drake.”]

Tim can practically feel the disdain in Damian’s voice as he says his last name, which makes his brow twitch – but he shakes it off. He tries to, at least.

“I’m trying! I just… don’t know what I’m looking at, or why, okay? This whole situation is… weird.”

[“Look, Tim, people… people died over this stuff. There’s gotta be something weird about it. Maybe weird chemicals or…?” Stephanie tries to suggest.]

The watcher huffs at the reminder, but ultimately relents as he gives it another look while still having his birds keep tabs on things. All he sees is the same thing, and as he increases the magnification on the microscope, he only finds himself growing more… confused. More weirded out than anything, and a little curious, sure, but confused all the same.

Leaning back, he takes a breath, “I don’t understand, it looks alien… but how can that even be possible?”

[“We work with aliens, is it really that strange, Drake?”]

“I know that- but this is like- different! The organisms in the dirt are being taken over by something- and it’s like it’s both trying to take over and adapt to it?”

[“Like… a parasite trying to get used to its host?”]

“Kind of? It’s hard to explain… and this substance in the dirt- no wonder some of it looks like sand…”

[“So, instead of ‘getting used to’ the host, it’s killing it.” Jason suggests.]

“Yeah, like it can’t adapt properly or… is valuing infection over adaptation. It seems to feed on organic material and create more- but there’s something weird about it too.”

[“... And that is?”]

Tim hesitates for a moment, unsure himself, before eventually just putting the idea out there. “Well, at this pace… if their plan is for it to infect all the organic material in Gotham for whatever reason, then this is a seriously inefficient way to do it. Their plan here isn’t to have this stuff in all the dirt - at least, not to change it all. It seems more like a byproduct of whatever they’re trying to do with it.”

[“Well, what’s in the dirt, Tim?” Stephanie asks.]

“That’s the thing- I have no idea. It’s like its own organism, but I haven’t seen anything like this. It’s completely alien, and I doubt it’s the friendly kind.”

[“Well- I have to agree with you there. If it was… well, who knows how this would go. But nothing about all of this particularly screams ‘friendly’.”]

[“Did the people shooting themselves give that away?” Jason sarcastically quips.]

[“The purposefully suspicious activity certainly doesn’t help.” Damian adds, sounding equally pleased.]

Tim zones out of the conversation, glancing back at the samples Jason and Stephanie were able to bring in that he hasn’t fully looked at yet. The samples themselves don’t seem to ‘decay’ necessarily, and it seems to take them a while to eat away at the dirt or sand they’ve been ‘mixed’ with – from the looks of things, anyway.

No, if anything it gives the impression of a substance trying to reach homeostasis. Since, it’s either that or it’s trying to revert back to it’s original state for… whatever reason. Whatever other material it produces in that process is simply a byproduct of its efforts. The real question is why. Why is it trying to change? Why is it working to do… whatever it’s trying to do?

Mindlessly, Tim’s blank eyes drift over to where Duke was sitting, only to pause.

The teenager was hunched over, entirely focused on the task at hand – and whereas that isn’t inherently a bad thing, Duke hardly seems to be breathing, like the smallest gust of air or wind will tamper with the sample so much. Taking too much precaution when it comes to treating it. Not like it’s dangerous, but like it’s precious, like handling something more fragile than glass.

The sight alone makes Tim feel unnerved, and as his senses heighten – its only then does he pick up on the faintest smell. What… what is that-?

[“Oh shit- we’ve got to bounce. Now-!”]

[“Agreed. How did you even manage to-?”]

[“Let’s save the questions for when we’re out of the burning warehouse.”]

Tim blinks, eyes blowing wide as he looks away from Duke and focuses back on what’s going on. Using one of his birds, he can see that a warehouse is, in fact, on fire – and it is growing fast. “Steph-”

[“Already made the call, fire department is on the way but- how in the world did you guys even manage to set the whole place on fire?”]

[“Don’t lump me in with this brainless brute-” Damian’s complaint is cut off.]

[“I didn’t even expect the stuff to catch that fast! Just- ugh,” Jason groans, the subtle sound of the warehouse coming apart is just barely audible through the comlink. “Do everyone a favor, and keep those samples away from fire. That shit lights faster than propane.”]

“Even if it spreads quickly, how did the fire get strong that fast?!”

[“Hell if I know! You said this crap is alien, right? How is anyone supposed to figure it’d have so much kick!?”]

“You knew it could set on fire?!”

[“Last I checked, dirt isn’t flammable- of COURSE I DIDN’T KNOW!”]

[“Guys! Just- focus on getting out of there! We can figure out all of this once we regroup. Meet me and Cass at the station. We need to tell Bruce about this.”]

Tim glances at Duke once again, who’s hand twitches slightly, and the watcher grows quiet before looking back at his own sample.

… Could this night get any weirder?

— — — — – – – – – – — – – –

Eventually, towards the heart of the night, Bruce is able to reach the batcave once more, and everyone recounts what they found or learned – minus certain individuals.

The discussion is as chaotic as one would imagine, but the main points get across eventually, albeit between suspicions a few of them had, and more speculation on what could be going on. The biggest question is why this group had chosen Gotham of all places, if they really have been here recently or have been in the city for longer, who Tim and Cass were able to identify as members of the cult, and so on.

Whoever was organizing this was clearly doing something to the people following them. How perfect everything seemed to flow without their presence was uncanny and unnatural, not to mention how readily members have killed themselves without a hint of hesitation. Honestly, it was terrifying – and the fact there was still so much left unknown wasn’t helping. Not knowing who was behind this, or at least in charge of the group in Gotham was setting them back – and the risk of confrontation was too high. There was no telling if they’d dispose of themself just as quickly as the other members of the cult, but that was assuming there even were other leaders in place.

They certainly had their influencers and people who brought in more members into their cult, but for some reasons… most of the vigilantes had a feeling that there wasn’t. That there was just one person in control – the lack of evidence on that end didn’t help, but they sort of just knew. Regardless, it wasn’t enough to fully dismiss anything, even if some of them were pretty set on a couple of things. Duke, Jason, Stephanie, and Cassandra in particular. Bruce was… well, himself, but he seemed to have his mind set as well even if he left the door open for possibilities.

If this was really alien, who knows what they’re dealing with – and if what Clark said earlier was true, then it’s definitely mind altering, at the very least. Though, that did pose another question entirely about you and the cops that came in from Metropolis.

Were any of you under the influence of this… alien substance?

They weren’t given much time to dwell on that as something pops up on the batcomputer – a notification of sorts. “Ah, must be Clark.” Bruce mumbles, already working on displaying and finding out all the information Clark had gathered.

A map of the United States first flashes onto the many screens, before red dots begin to appear on the map. Like little fairy lights, they flicker on, and don’t stop until it looks like the country has got the bad case of chickenpox. Then, it zooms out, showing the whole world map, and more dots appear. They’re sparse in some areas compared to others, but the message is made clear enough.

Yet, before anyone could fully digest even the point Clark was trying to make, the funniest thing happens.

The dots begin to move. They weren’t just markers, they were trackers.

Some move faster than others, all of them blinking for a moment before shifting, showing their movement. There aren’t any labels, but the direction seems to be clear enough. Especially as the map zooms back into the United States, and shows the movement there a little more clearly.

On the East Coast, all of the dots closest to there seem to be moving towards two cities in particular – but before it can be shown where they are clearly moving towards, the power cuts. The batcave is swallowed by darkness, and the vigilante family is left in complete darkness for a few moments. The cave being the most dark any of them have seen it, and the silence near deafening.

It doesn’t take long for the lights to flicker back on, but they have the oddest shade of pink, and as everything powers back on – the ventilation is still paused, and something else has taken place of the map on the batcomputer – it’s taken over every screen even remotely connected to the advanced computer, actually.

A red solar eclipse with a timer right on the bottom, counting down. No explanation, nothing aside from the eclipse and countdown.

There’s no way someone in the cult could’ve got into the system, and especially not tonight when they were all on high alert and keeping an eye on them! It wasn’t possible, the security in the cave and manor would’ve been enough to stop anyone from getting in, or at least notified any of them if someone had gotten in. Hell, Damian’s sense and trigger would have alerted him if anyone had so much as stepped onto the property that wasn’t supposed to be there. There are too many precautions put into place for this to happen – and for the sight to stay on screen as well.

That didn’t leave many possibilities, and it was less about the why and more about how this could even happen. Which, amongst the options to shift through… with the threat they were dealing with here, only one seemed to stick out and seemed the most plausible.

There was a traitor among them.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

hello! not sure if you've already covered this, but what's the difference between a sociopath and psychopath? as well as a bit more information on the two.

Writing Notes: Sociopath & Psychopath

Sociopath and Psychopath - former names for an individual with antisocial personality disorder (ASPD)

Psychopathy

a synonym for ASPD

formerly: any psychological disorder or mental disease

Sociopathic behavior - dyssocial behavior (i.e., a former name for behavior associated with delinquent or criminal activities, such as gangsterism, racketeering, prostitution, or illegal gambling. It was attributed to distorted moral and social influences, frequently aggravated by a broken home or a deprived environment. Such behavior is now regarded as an aspect of ASPD.)

What’s the Difference Between a Psychopath & a Sociopath?

Psychopath and sociopath are often used interchangeably in common speech.

Although the terms are also used in the scientific literature, they are not well defined there; mental health professionals instead prefer to understand both psychopathy and sociopathy as types of antisocial personality disorders, each condition being distinguished by a few characteristic features but both having many features in common.

To put the matter simplistically, psychopaths are born, and sociopaths are made.

Among persons who display ASPD, those called psychopaths are distinguished by:

a nearly complete inability to form genuine emotional attachments to others;

a compensating tendency to form artificial and shallow relationships, which the psychopath cynically exploits or manipulates to benefit himself;

a corresponding ability to appear glib and even charming to others;

an ability in some psychopaths to maintain the appearance of a normal work and family life; and

a tendency to carefully plan criminal activities to avoid detection.

Sociopaths, in contrast, are generally:

capable of developing a close attachment to one or a few individuals or groups, though they too generally have severe difficulties in forming relationships.

incapable of anything even remotely resembling a normal work or family life, and, in comparison to psychopaths, they are exceptionally impulsive and erratic and more prone to rage or violent outbursts.

Accordingly, their criminal activities tend to be spur-of-the-moment rather than carefully premeditated.

In Children: Conduct Disorder

Psychologists and psychiatrists emphasize that ASPD cannot be properly diagnosed in children, because it is by definition a condition that abides for many years and because the personalities of children are constantly evolving.

Nevertheless, adults who develop ASPD typically displayed what is called conduct disorder as children, generally characterized by:

aggressive behavior toward people or animals,

destruction of property,

deceitfulness or theft, and

serious infractions of criminal laws or other norms.

Antisocial & Asocial

Antisocial - denoting or exhibiting behavior that sharply deviates from social norms and also violates other people’s rights. Arson and vandalism are examples of antisocial behavior.

Asocial - declining to engage, or incapable of engaging, in social interaction; or lacking sensitivity or regard for social values or norms. —asociality n.

Antisocial Personality Disorder

The presence of a chronic and pervasive disposition to disregard and violate the rights of others.

Manifestations include:

repeated violations of the law,

exploitation of others,

deceitfulness,

impulsivity,

aggressiveness,

reckless disregard for the safety of self and others, and

irresponsibility, accompanied by lack of guilt, remorse, and empathy.

The disorder has been known by various names, including dyssocial personality, psychopathic personality, and sociopathic personality.

It is among the most heavily researched of the personality disorders and the most difficult to treat.

It is included in DSM–IV–TR, DSM–5, and DSM-5-TR (i.e., "Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders", which is the handbook used by health care professionals in the United States and much of the world as the authoritative guide to the diagnosis of mental disorders, currently in its 5th edition, text revision).

Symptoms of Antisocial Personality Disorder

People with ASPD tend to have few symptoms. Rather, they cause discomfort or distress to others through socially unacceptable behavior and by being:

Deceitful

Impulsive

Aggressive or irritable

Reckless

Irresponsible

Remorseless

Expected duration of ASPD: All personality disorders are lifelong patterns.

Diagnosis of Antisocial Personality Disorder

The diagnosis is made on the basis of a person's history, usually by a mental health professional. There are no laboratory tests to assist in diagnosing this disorder. Other psychiatric disorders, such as a mood or anxiety disorder, attention deficit disorder, or substance abuse, may also be present.

In order to be diagnosed with ASPD, an individual must show a continuing pattern of disregard for and violation of the rights of others, occurring since age 15, with 3 (or more) of the following:

Failure to confirm to laws and social norms (repeatedly breaking laws).

Deceitfulness (repeated lying or conning others for personal profit or pleasure).

Impulsivity or failure to plan ahead.

Irritability and aggressiveness (repeated physical fights or assaults).

Reckless disregard for safety of self or others.

Consistent irresponsibility (repeated failure to sustain consistent work behavior or honor financial obligations).

Lack of remorse (being indifferent to having hurt, mistreated, or stolen from another).

In addition, the individual must be at least age 18 years and there must be evidence of conduct disorder before age 15.

There is no way to prevent this disorder.

It is conceivable that a general improvement in social conditions could reduce the incidence of antisocial personality disorder. An improvement in a person's social environment may reduce the severity of the problem, especially if changes are made early in life.

Research has yet to demonstrate an effective or practical way to accomplish these goals.

Many psychotherapy techniques have been proposed for treating antisocial personality disorder. Unfortunately, research does not indicate that any of the current treatments is particularly helpful for treating the personality disorder itself.

As a result, the choice of treatment is usually guided by a person's specific circumstances.

In younger people, family or group psychotherapy may help to change destructive patterns of behavior, teach new vocational and relationship skills, and reinforce a person's social support.

Psychotherapy also may help a person with this disorder learn to be more sensitive to the feelings of others and encourage new, socially acceptable and productive ways of thinking about one's goals and aims.

Cognitive therapy attempts to change sociopathic ways of thinking.

Behavior therapy uses reward and punishment to promote good behavior.

In some cases, symptoms can be treated with medication, although again there is no specific medication that is considered best for all people with this disorder. Selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors (SSRIs), such as fluoxetine (Prozac) and sertraline (Zoloft), may decrease aggressiveness and irritability. These drugs are useful if either anxiety or depression are present, or if the person is using substances to self-medicate for anxiety or low mood.

There are many questions about how helpful any of these interventions can be in an illness where, by definition, people who are affected do not recognize that they have a problem.

Treatment is more likely to be successful if it is started earlier in life. But it is difficult to change long-entrenched patterns of thinking and behavior.

Also, the longer a person lives with this personality style, the less he or she may be interested in taking responsibility for change. For some people, the tendency toward aggression and irritability decreases with age. But some personality characteristics may persist.

Often the only thing that can protect victims of antisocial behavior is the criminal justice system. In rare instances, corrections systems (jails and prisons) provide opportunities for treatment or rehabilitation, but often these environments, with their abundance of antisocial individuals, tend to promote antisocial behavior.

Sources: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 ⚜ More: Writing Notes & References

Hope this helps with your writing!

[marcsburnerphone]

wish I wasn't so hurt

Captain John price x f!reader

Summary:being johns’ wife has been full of security and safety and you never thought he’d be the one to taint that.

Warnings: angst,(hurt/comfort, 141 task force loves you, price is full of guilt, reader is struggling to process her feelings

Part two!! Find part one here - Part 1

—----------

The cafe was quiet and warm when you entered, a few couples here and there were tucked away in booths chatting mindlessly. There was a dull ache spread throughout your chest and head from crying, ordering your coffee You couldn't help but notice the look of sympathy that sat on the barista's face.

You found a booth somewhere in the corner and dug your phone out of your purse and powered it on after having shut it off to stop the continuous buzzing it’d been doing in the car. To say the least it almost overheated and you couldn’t get to the silence button fast enough.

4 missed calls.

2 voicemails.

“I’m sorry.” 

“I’m so sorry, please forgive me.” 

“I have lost my mind, I know.” 

“Where are you my love?”

“Please just talk to me, or text either please.”

“I know I was wrong, it wasn’t my intention.” 

“Fuck em.” This one was from Simon and it made you giggle. 

A part of you wanted to message john and let him know you're okay to ease his mind, yet you didn’t instead you tucked your phone in the back pocket of your jeans. Maybe being this upset wasn't reasonable but the way he dismissed you with such harsh words intending to scare you, it was hard to get past.

Had you pushed too far? If you would have just left this could've been avoided, the anger that was spreading in your heart, the trouble of processing how to feel or move forward from this. To be fair John had never done anything to scare you or make you feel unsafe after all these years, even when he came home with blood still on his boots his eyes and voice were nothing but tender and loving. This is where you found trouble, how could he have changed so fast? How had he been so cold?

—--------

Back on base he was suffering, his heart ached with shame and remorse. How could he speak to you in such a way? Often he fell victim to his anger but this time so did you. He checked his phone continuously since you left here and it’d become clear to him you'd stopped somewhere before going home. He just wished he knew where.

The bowl of food hadn't been picked up from where your shaking hands had left it, the thought itself made him nauseous. He was fearful for the first time in a long while, for someone with so much control the thought of you leaving had him ready to crumble to the floor and maybe that's what he deserves.

The Men that were usually rowdy and causing commotion had fallen silent in his presence as he went for a cup of tea in the common area.

Price didn’t understand the blessing he held in the palm of his hands, to find someone as loving and caring as you was a once in a lifetime thing especially with the career he possessed. Bloody hands that get to go home to welcoming warm ones, a soldiers’ wish.  

—------------

You sat around trying to pinpoint where the confusion in how to feel was but hopelessly gave up and decided it was time to head home. The chilly air outside made you shiver on the way to your car. The drive home was draining, music filled the silence followed by the wisp of the heater. You'd sleep in the yard to avoid anything john if you weren't so scared of the dark. 

 As your car arrived on the familiar gravely ground to your home, a deep sigh escaped you. Clutching your keys you headed to the door and jumped at the voice that came through the camera thing. 

“Love please I’m sorry, where were you? I was worried?” The frantic yet somewhat calm voice of your husband came through. You thought of replying, yet you didn’t.

You walked inside, locking the door behind you and reset the alarm system. Your feet carried you mindlessly upstairs and to your bed, sleep came easy yet painfully that night but nevertheless any sleep was good sleep.

—-----------

John had never experienced your complete silence and couldn't take it. He decided he'd leave base early in the morning in hopes to resolve this with you, he wasn't even cleared to leave base but he couldn't really 100% be here if the idea of you hurting on your own was weighing on his mind.

—------------

Back at home was exactly that, you were wrong, any sleep wasn’t good sleep, the bed that you’ve slept in many nights without John had somehow felt emptier. Your head was pounding from a lack of sleep and crying, you waited for the ibuprofen you'd taken to kick in and just laid silently in bed . After a while you became lost in thought and missed the sound of tires on gravel but the slam of the door snapped you out of it. 

Like a child you acted like you were sleeping instead of running out of bed into his arms like you normally would. His heavy boots climbed the stairs into your bedroom, you were sure he noticed your breathing pattern was one of an awake person but couldn’t find a reason to care.

“Darling.” He whispers and you feel the dent of his weight crease on the bed.

“I don’t want to see you right now John.” But you had wanted to see him, you were just scared this time you’d see him differently.

“Please, my love, talk to me.” It was a plea as his hand went to your thigh rubbing small circles into your soft skin.

“No.” Tears began to well in your eyes again, thankfully you chose to lay facing the window. 

At that he raised from where he was sitting and rounded the bed kneeling beside your head, it broke his heart to see your puffy eyes and fresh tears streaking your beautiful face. His hand raised to caress your face and you stubbornly pulled away.

Instead of that he placed his forehead on yours not minding the way his rickety knees would ache tomorrow. 

“You scared me.” You whispered, voice quivering with emotion. 

“I know, I’m so sorry. I’d never hurt you willingly a day in my life. I just- I don’t know what came over me.” He kissed your forehead and then the tears that he was causing. 

“No you don’t understand John.” You flipped your body the other way, suddenly feeling overwhelmed in his presence.

He wasn’t going to leave you too hurt although you wished he would. There was just enough room on the bed for him to lay beside you. He formed his body to yours holding you firmly.

 At this you sobbed, the weight of your cries was devastating, as his body shook with yours he pulled you tighter to him. 

“Your my wife and my equal I was beyond wrong I- I’m ashamed of my behavior you didn’t deserve that nor it will never happen again I promise i’ll never be the man that makes you hurt please forgive me.” he whispered into your hair soothing your erratic breathing back to somewhat stable.

“John.” you said between hiccups.

“Yes my darling.” he didn't like when you called him by his name but at least you were speaking to him.

“Im tired.” he was fucking hurting inside.

“Then sleep.” he nuzzled his nose deeper into the scent of your shampoo, you just nodded your head and let your eyes close, exhaustion showed no mercy as you immediately fell into a deep slumber.

------------

the love on part 1 was amazing thankyou all from the bottom of my heart.

feedback and reposts are deeply appreciated;)

There will be a part 3;)

[captain-athos]

On Aldo Bellini and insecurity, succession, and his obsession with Tedesco

Aldo Bellini angst is so delicious to me, especially when you think about the time leading up to the pope's death. Like I cannot stop thinking about that chessboard, the late pope always being eight moves ahead. What must it have been like as Aldo, trying to follow in the footsteps of a man he so clearly regarded as far wiser and more intelligent than himself? To emerge as a leading candidate for the papacy with that legacy in the back of his mind? To enter into conclave with the mindset that they are all just pieces on a board... but also the certainty that, in this regard, he will always be lacking.

Do you think Aldo ever wondered about, when the pope told him that he'd lost faith in the church, whether that also included himself?

I also think it's so interesting that Aldo doesn't recognise the hand of the late pope in the way the events have unfolded. He believes Thomas is "steering this conclave" - and in a way he's right, but Aldo always remains limited in his ability to see past what's right in front of his face. He can't see those eight steps ahead, all he can deal with is reacting to the here and now, and that's what ultimately ties him up.

I mean, he knows what he believes in. That "common sense approach" draws me back in every watch because common to who? That's such a Barbie movie approach to his politics, the assumption that everybody in the room already knows and understands what you're talking about. The safety of talking to people you know already support you. He doesn't want to pretend he is anything other than what he is, but what is he? He would rather invoke Tedesco as an opposing force than to elaborate on any of his own views! That meeting is so beautifully written because everything he says is insinuation; his words require the people in the room to already know and agree with him. In a way, he's test driving his views somewhere safe. "If you want to canvas on my behalf, make sure my message is clear." Sabbadin, his extra layer of separation between himself and the rest of the Cardinals. His extra layer of protection.

The other aspect to Aldo that I find fascinating is his own ambition, in spite of his insecurities. I mean, you see how easily he gives up and backs Tremblay, rather than to make any sort of attempt at actually sticking his neck out for once and actively campaigning. Even Thomas tells him it's not over yet, but he's already decided. But of course, all the best characters carry beautiful, complex, human contradictions within themselves. You see from his outburst towards Thomas, his slide from "we liberals need to be united" to "every cardinal has that desire!" that somewhere in his heart, he does genuinely believe himself to be the right candidate. He knows what he wants to do with the papacy! His heart is genuinely in the right place because he knows he needs to stand up for the previous pope's legacy! It's just the how of the thing that ties him up. The actual act of doing.

Aldo is less concerned with what should be done with the responsibility of the papacy, and more concerned with blocking Tedesco. He brings it up the second he arrives ("and let it go to him?), as part of his first meeting with his supporters ("I stand for everything Tedesco does not"), and when he apologises to Thomas, saying that "you're the only one who can stop him now."

Aldo, a man who is desperately insecure and conflict avoidant trying his best nevertheless to follow in the footsteps of a man he respected? Finding himself blindsided by his own ambition? And maybe also in part motivated by getting back at the animosity between the late Holy Father and Tedesco? There's so much going on with this guy.

"Brother, I have no intention of concealing my views or pretending to be anything other than I am."

But who are you, Aldo Bellini? Not in relation to anybody else around you, not as a reaction or a decision made for the eyes that are upon you. Who are you?

I love that we get a glimpse of him starting to examine that by the end. I love that it feels like his eyes have been opened in some small way, that he's willing to re-examine his own approach. I think that apology is less a conclusion, and more the beginning of something new.

I think he and Vincent are going to butt heads a lot because Bellini is still at heart bound by the ways of thinking in the Vatican that prioritise adherence to the status quo and careful wording, baby steps that will avoid too much scrutiny. It will be a long and difficult slog between the two of them before they reach an understanding. Bellini has a lot of mental unpacking to do. But I do think there's tangible hope in that apology scene in the same way that there is in the shot of the blinds opening. Aldo's own "what we do next" moment.

[notbadforafailedvessel]

Alcina x sick!Reader

Inspired by @willalove75's post ─ Reader is sick and seeks comfort in Alcina.

GIF Credit

Pathetic.

That's how you felt and surely how you looked. Walking through the halls of Castle Dimitrescu wearing your sleepwear and a blanket wrapped around you that only left your head exposed, surely didn't help your case.

You whined when your runny nose itched, your eyes watering, causing you to rub it in a failed attempt to comfort your nuisance.

You felt terrible, and you were sure you had a fever, since you were cold but sweating. Part of you blamed that as the reason why you were heading towards Alcina's office during her working hours, when you wouldn't have dared in other circumstances.

Of course you had been sick before since the Castle became your home and your Lady's bedroom yours too, but during those previous times, even when you wished to have Alcina next to you all day, you managed to deal with the fact it wasn't possible, reveling even more in the breaks she took during the day to check on you.

But this time, you were needy for her presence and attention, so desperate that your common sense was completely clouded. Nevertheless, you had the mind to knock on the door first, waiting for her permission to enter.

Alcina lifted her head when you closed the door behind you, amusement in her expression as her eyes moved over your peculiar outfit. But in the next second, when your eyes locked, she raised an eyebrow questioningly, pursing her lips at the interruption.

You opened your mouth to explain yourself, but a harsh sneeze stopped you from doing it, your eyes immediately tearing up due to the itching of your nose. You hugged yourself, wrapping the blanket tighter.

"Oh, draga..." She softened her expression in understanding.

In silence, you hurried to her, stretching your arms out once you reached her, pouting slightly to make yourself look pitiful, hoping that was enough to not being denied what you want.

Alcina narrowed her eyes at you without moving an inch, which caused to deepen your pout, furrowing your eyebrows sadly.

"Oh, for the love of-" Alcina huffed, rolling her eyes at the time she leaned forward to pick you up.

You smiled, tiredly but victorious, as you straddled her lap, sighing contently when you nuzzled into her neck, wrapping your arms around it.

Alcina chuckled softly, shaking her head and kissing you on your forehead, one of her hands stroking your back comfortingly, while with the other one she hugged you closer to her. "What on earth have you done to me, my little mortal?"

One of your hands slid down her neck to her jaw, which you traced lovingly. "I love you too," you said hoarsely. You cleared your throat, even though you knew it wouldn't change anything.

"You feel terribly bad, iubi?" she asked troubled, sighing deeply when you nodded. "I'm sure some of Donna's concoctions will help you feel better."

"Later," you muttered, shifting in her arms, attempting to get closer to her even when there wasn't any space between you two. "I want to be with you." Her cold skin felt heavenly against your warmth one.

"Draga mea... as much as I wish I could go with you, I have a heavy workload to do that sadly can't postpone."

You could've cried. Despite you could hear the regret in Alcina's voice, it was the determination in her decision what affected you the most. You loathed how vulnerable you became when you were sick.

It was tempting to beg her, and in your current state, you would have done it without contemplating the consequences, but Alcina spoke before you could do so.

"However, if you promise to behave, rest and sleep, you can stay with me."

You pulled back slightly to look at her, finding a solemn expression in those features that mesmerize you every time you looked at her.

You were unsure to what exactly she meant, resting on the office couch while she kept working? Nevertheless, you nodded eagerly, cursing yourself as you were reminded of your headache. In the end it didn't matter, you would be close to her and be able to see her, somewhat satisfying your need for her.

Alcina smiled pleased once you agreed to her conditions, and to your surprise, instead of encourage you to stand up to move to the couch, she helped you to sit sideways on her lap, wrapping her left arm around you as support and adjusting the blanket over you with the other hand.

"Comfortable, iubi?" she wondered, reaching to take the discarded pen on the desk once she was done with the task, her gaze returning to the waiting papers.

Slowly resting your head on her breast, you looked up at her with adoration. It didn't matter how many times you have experienced her thoughtfulness, it would never fail to make your heart skip a beat with happiness, knowing you were the only lucky mortal who knew this side of her. The only mortal she loved.

She looked down at you when you didn't answer, her concern quickly vanishing as she narrowed her eyes when you made eye contact, disgruntled by the pointless interruption.

"Impossible to feel better," you hurried to answer sincerely, making her chuckle.

"Rest now then. I refuse to be delayed even more this day," she warned you, but there was a trace of tenderness in her tone.

You nodded, softly this time, closing your eyes with the intention to fall asleep and not risk losing what had been offered to you.

Her cold skin helping to soothe any physical discomfort made you sigh gratefully; her presence making easier to feel in better spirits and not completely dramatic, making you wonder when Death would come for you.

Yawning, you wrapped an arm around her, clenching her dress with your hand. You didn't believe she would get rid of you the moment you were asleep, but you still wanted to have a way to avoid the disappointment of waking up without her at your side.

During the last moment of consciousness, you smiled when she nuzzled your hair to then press a few kisses on your head, taking her time before going back to her work. And you wondered if you would dare to ask her if her purring was another reassuring gesture on your behalf, or if she just enjoyed this as much as you did.