#common period

[onlinesweetheart]

<3

[kkoct-ik]

finally scratching the skill cabinet itch

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

i wanna know more about svsss menopause

They synced their periods together too well. Now they are synced through their perimenopause years.

[turtleblogatlast]

I unironically love how blatantly late 80’s early 90’s all the brothers’ styles are in “The Clothes Don’t Make the Turtle” because like…of course those are their styles! The majority of the media they grew up adoring is heavily influenced by that time period, so it makes perfect sense that they all took inspiration from it. It’s honestly super cute to see, they’re such kids I swear.

[munsonfamilyband]

In Everything But Blood

Alright, I finished the giant paper I had to write (40 pages jesus christ) and then grad school kind of kicked my ass for a while BUT I AM HERE, back from a months long hiatus to finally write the claudia henderson thing I wrote weeks ago. Enjoy, there will be more but this was so long and I only got to like halfway through it but I wanted to post this.

TW!!!! Seriously TW, graphic descriptions of gore and injuries, medical talk, THIS IS NOT FOR THE SQUEAMISH IT IS SUPPOSED TO BE GRAPHIC ON PURPOSE

~~~~~~~~~~

Steve wasn't fully aware of how he was still moving but he wasn't going to question it as he sprints into the hospital behind Nancy and Robin, Eddie draped over his back and getting blood everywhere, Dustin limping as fast as he could behind them. He would probably be panicking more if he couldn't feel the little puffs of air Eddie was breathing out every few seconds against his neck.

The nurses all turn to the doors when Nancy slams them open and while there are already plenty of people who look worse for wear in the waiting room, no one looks quite like the group that just walked in. They're all covered in dirt and ash and sweat and lake water and blood blood bloodbloodblood-

Okay, maybe Steve is starting to panic a little.

Nancy yells for help when no one immediately moves and the gun she's holding definitely helps encourage any nurses and doctors to get over any issues they have treating Eddie.

Robin has to pry Steve's hands off of Eddie's pants. He didn't want to let him go, too scared that he would die and Steve wouldn't be there to help. She manages to gently guide him away from the doors they took Eddie through and she sits him down in a chair before sitting next to him and leaning her head on his shoulder.

"He'll be okay, Stevie. We got him here, he's okay."

Steve knows that she's only saying it to help calm him down, and probably to calm herself down too, but he appreciates it all the same.

As they sit there Steve feels the adrenaline starting to fade and he gets a very stark reminder of how his sides are stinging and every breath makes his shirt rub against the scrapes on his back and arms. If he hadn't been in a state of panic already, worried about Eddie and Max and Lucas and Erica and-

He takes a deep breath and leans into Robin's weight at his side. He can't get help yet, not until he knows everyone else is okay.

(If he were feeling braver he might also admit that he's been a little scared of doctors since Scoops, but he's not feeling very brave at the moment.)

A little while later Steve sees Lucas and Erica and forces himself to stand, hurrying over to check on them, to find out where Max is. He instantly knows that something went wrong when Erica slams into him and holds on tight. He only gets more concerned when Lucas leans in to hold onto Erica and Steve at the same time. And then the pit gets bigger when he feels tears hit his shirt.

"Lucas, hey, you're alright. Hey, look at me- hey. What happened? Where's Max?" Steve stares at Lucas's face as he speaks, trying to get an idea of how he's feeling.

Lucas takes a shuddering breath in before he answers, "She-she-.. it was going fine and then... Jason-Jason fuckin'- he crushed her Walkman and I couldn't-she was floating and Jason had-had a gun and I-She was-was dead, for a minute, and then she-she just started breathing again and I dont-"

Steve pulls Lucas closer again, a hand on the back of his neck to give him support as he spoke quietly. "Okay, alright, you did good. She's here, right? She'll be okay. She's gonna be okay." Steve stayed there with them for who knows how long, only separating when he heard a familiar voice gasp from the door.

"Oh thank god, Erica, Lucas!"

Both of them turned to see their mom in the waiting room and ran at her, where she met them in a crushing hug. As Sue held her children close she looked up, tears falling and made eye contact with Steve. Steve saw her mouth 'Thank you' to him and it made his stomach fall to his feet. Sue had always adored Steve for protecting her kids, first from Billy and then in the "fire" at the mall. But this time, Steve was the reason they got hurt. He let them go off on their own and they got hurt.

He nods and walks back over to Robin and Dustin where they're sitting, suddenly remembering his injuries again as he moves away from the Sinclairs. He has to force himself to walk normally just to make it to the chair, only to nearly collapse back into it.

~~~~

"Alright, time to go, Dust. Now that your foot's been treated I really need to get you home. Claudia is going to start calling morgues if I don't," Steve grunts out as he helps heave Dustin out of his seat and get settled on his crutches. Robin stands once Dustin is steady and she follows them out of the hospital and climbs into the passenger of Steve's car. (Nancy had left once Eddie was taken to stash the RV somewhere and she came back with his beemer. Steve isn't going to ask.)

The ride to Dustin's house is quiet, Steve can tell each of them is silently asking anything out there that the Henderson house was spared. Thankfully when they pulled into the driveway the house was in one piece and only seconds after parking Claudia is yanking open the front door and running out to meet them at the car.

She runs up to Dustin who had managed to stand up using the car as support and they both cling to each other in tears. Steve watches them for a moment before he has to look away or he'll start crying. He spaces out for a bit, just holding Robin's hand when he get startled by the harsh knocks on his window. Looking up, he locks eyes with Claudia and he can't quite read her expression but he can hear her say, "Get your butt out of that car, Steve, I need to look at you. You too, Robbie."

He and Robin make eye contact for a split second before hurrying to comply. As soon as Steve is standing fully he finds himself being yanked down into a hug, Claudia's arms wrapped around his shoulders.

Steve has to take a deep, shaky breath and blink very quickly to stop any tears. He loves Claudia's hugs, they feel like birthdays and Christmas and being wrapped in a fuzzy blanket with hot chocolate all at once. When he hears her mumbling about how glad she is that he's okay, well, maybe he cries a little.

After he and Robin are both fully looked at by Claudia and then each given at least 3 hugs, they climb back into his car and pull away form the Hendersons.

"Am I taking you home or are you coming with me?" Steve glances over at Robin as he says it. He knows the answer without he responding, just because her face pinches in the way it does when she's afraid of making Steve sad.

"I know last time we went to yours but I just... I need to see my parents. I'm so sorry-"

"Robs, it's okay to want to check on your parents. I'm not upset. Can you just.. keep your walkie on our channel tonight?" Steve glances at her again, getting hit with another Robin look that says she can see right through him.

"Always, Stevie. I am sorry though, I hate the idea of you in that house alone."

"I'll be okay, Robbie. I'm just gonna sleep as soon as I get home anyways."

Robin stares at him for a moment longer and then nods, grabbing one of his hands to hold in hers for the last half of the drive. She only lets it go to give him a tight squeeze before hurrying out of the car to her front door.

Steve waits until she's safely inside before he pulls away and goes to his own house.

The moment he shuts the door behind himself it feels like all of the energy in his body has been drained away. He can barely keep himself standing, only the pain that shoots down his spin when he leans back onto the door keeps him upright.

He forces himself to trudge upstairs and goes right to the bathroom. He starts with getting the clothes off, deciding to just cut them off so he doesn't have to lift his arms.

Then comes the cleaning. He first tries to shower but he can only handle standing with pressured water pelting his back and soap stinging his feet for a minute at the most. When he gives up on the shower he figures he should at least try to clean the bites.

One second he's standing in front of the mirror and reaching to pull off the fabric, the next his whole body is covered in sweat and he's sitting on his ass on the tile floor. His hands are shaking at he wants to vomit from the pain.

No changing the bandage then.

Steve forces himself to at least wash his face and hands with a washcloth before he collapses directly into bed and falling asleep in seconds.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Claudia is worried. She had already been a little concerned when Steve showed up two days earlier for lunch with a flushed face and too pale skin. She watched him and he didn't act any different but she kept note of it so that she could watch him. But then, when they were supposed to have lunch at 12 and Steve still hadn't shown up or even called by 1, well, Claudia was concerned. Steve always insisted on being on time, claiming it came from all the sports he had done (but she had heard him mumble about his parents harassing him about being late before when he had a head injury, so she just nodded along to his excuses). Being an hour late was entirely out of character and something in her gut, the same feeling she had experienced multiple times over the past few years about her Dusty, told her that she needed to go see him, and soon.

Dustin was thankfully not at home, spending the afternoon with the Wheelers, so she didn't have to tell him what was happening before she got into her car and drove to Steve's house.

What greeted her when she parked only made her more nervous. Steve, she had noticed, had strange habits relating to many things. He had to sit close enough to touch the person next to him, he tried to hide it but he never kept alcohol in the house anymore, he kept the curtains closed facing the backyard, and he always, always leaves the porch light on.

But that afternoon in early April, the porch light was off.

Claudia parked quickly and hurried to the front door, not even bothering with knocking. Instead she pulled out the key Steve had made for her and Dusty after the previous summer and let herself in.

The dread that had been growing in her gut only intensified when she entered the house and a very familiar smell hit her nose.

Body odor, sweat and salt and morning breath.

Bodily fluids, urine and vomit. And blood.

Infection, sickly sweet rot mixing with something like ammonia.

Time seemed to freeze as Claudia ran up the stairs, calling Steve's name all the while. She knew those smells, she had dealt with them at work too many times to not know them, and to smell them in relation to Steve made her blood run cold. She needed to see him, this boy who cared for her Dusty so much, this boy who had wormed his way into her heart, this boy who was her son.

Rushing into Steve's room she was greeted by her worst fears. Steve was lying on his bed, the sheets clearly kicked off and tangled around his ankles. He was only wearing his boxers and they had clearly not been changed in a few days, stained with his sweat and urine. His skin was covered in sweat, his chest and cheeks were bright red and the rest of his skin was a waxy yellow. He was shirtless, vomit covering his chin and chest and staining the pillow and sheets below him. He had what looked like scraps of a sweater or shirt wrapped loosely around his stomach. It was filthy, saturated with sweat, blood, dirt and pus. The smell in the room was much stronger than by the front door, her eyes watering briefly before she forced herself to focus. She was a nurse, she could handle this.

Claudia moved to the bed and gently kneeled onto the mattress. As she moved closer she could hear Steve mumbling to himself but it was so quiet and so slurred that nothing was legible. Claudia placed a hand on his forehead and jerked back in shock at how hot his skin was. Glancing around frantically for anything to help she saw the phone at his bedside table and grabbed it, punching in 911 before cradling the receiver between her ear and shoulder as she continued to check over Steve.

The next moments all passed in a blur for Claudia as she explained who she was and where she was to the dispatcher before they hung up and she waited for the ambulance to arrive. The ride to the hospital passed in what seemed like a blink of an eye and suddenly Claudia found herself in the empty waiting room at Hawkins General and she became aware of two equally important facts.

Her sweater and hands were saturated with Steve's sweat and blood.

She needed to call Robin.

The blood would have to wait, because she knew that Robin would want to be there for Steve so she managed to wipe her hand with some tissues before dialing the Buckley's house.

"Buckley residence, this is Robin," Robin's voice came through the receiver and Claudia let out a loud sigh.

"Robbie, honey, thank goodness you're home. I have some bad news. I'm at the hospital right now sweetie, it's about Steve." Claudia paused after she finished speaking, waiting to see what Robin would say. Unfortunately for Claudia, rather than saying anything, she had to listen to a gut wrenching gasp and sob from Robin, so she chose to keep talking. "I went to his house and found him in his room. I think he had been hurt and it got infected. If your parents are home, I think you should come here, he would want you here."

Robin mumbled a few okays, clearly through tears before she hung up. In the silence after Claudia had no choice but to go clean herself up, allowing herself a minute to collapse onto a toilet seat and cry. Her boy was hurt and she couldn't help him, he was so hurt he didn't even know she was there and she didn't know what to do.

Robin arrived about 10 minutes after they ended their call with a surprise in tow.

Jim Hopper, thinner and without a mustache, but somehow alive and marching into the hospital like he was going into hell. Knowing about his daughter, he probably felt like he was in hell.

Robin spotted Claudia first and ran over to her, arms open and Claudia pulled her right into a tight hug, rocking her back and forth the way Steve always loves. Robin held back just as tight and cried into her shoulder while Claudia whispered to her, "He'll be okay, he's going to be okay."

Jim didn't say anything, just nodded - as if she hadn't thought he was dead until that moment - before he collapsed into a chair, head in his hands and knee bouncing with anxiety.

Hours passed, Robin had curled herself up in a chair next to Claudia and was leaning into her side. Jim had moved to sit on the other side of Robin and surprisingly she reached out and held his hand.

After ages of sitting there in silence a doctor walked through the doors. Claudia recognized her immediately and knew that she had been lucky to find Steve alive if she had been called in. Dr. Graham was one of the only wound specialists they had at the hospital and she focused on the worst cases.

Claudia straightened in her seat, her two companions also coming to attention as Dr. Graham came to sit with them.

"Hello, Claudia. I'm sorry you had to come in on your day off but you got very lucky. If you hadn't brought him in today he may have gone into sepsis. Thankfully he has you listed as his emergency contact so I can fill you in on everything. I want to start by saying that he is currently stable and on heavy medication. He had multiple heavily infected wounds, primarily on his abdomen but there was also apparent road rash across the back of his arms and upper back. We were able to debride the wounds from the rash relatively easily but his abdomen was more difficult. The bandage he had been using was extremely dirty and not made for wound coverage so many fibers had been imbedded into the open wounds. Luckily there had been little necrotizing fasciitis but there was enough that we had to remove the dead tissue. I do want to make sure you understand that he was very seriously injured and delayed treatment made it worse. We are going to test the pus we collected for different bacteria to narrow down the treatment for him but I'm thinking it may be leptospirosis, since he is visibly jaundiced and the injures are obviously animal bites. We have him sedated currently and on heavy antibiotics in the ICU. If you wear protective gear you can visit him for a little bit, but only people on his emergency contact list can come."

Claudia's head was spinning, she was hearing the words being said and she was following the doctor down the hall to the ICU. She was putting paper scrubs on over her clothes and donning a mask and gloves, but it was all in a daze. She needed to see Steve, she needed to see him breathing, then she would be okay.

She was not okay.

Seeing Steve only made her collapse into a chair in tears. He looked so small in the hospital bed, wrapped in wires and tubes. But he was breathing. Robin collapsed onto the foot of his bed and bent over his shins while she sobbed and Jim stumbled into the wall by the door with a hand over his eyes as his shoulders shook with silent anguish. They knew he wasn't out of the woods yet, but he was breathing and he had to be okay.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alright that was part one, I'm working on the next half but wow that ended up being really long

Taglist

@maya-custodios-dionach @ape31 @eldtritchlizardblast @y4r3luv @devondespresso @zerokrox-blog @disrespectedgoatman @finntheehumaneater @estrellami-1 @jonesn4coffee @whatexactlyismyhoohah @lingeringmirth @my-hyperfixations-hell-blog @spectrum-spectre @steddieasitgoes @puppy-steve @frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe @nburkhardt @sllooney @princessstevemunson @yellowdevilkitten @emchant3d @steddie-island @afewproblems

[multicolour-ink]

Do you think Mario and Luigi make "twin jokes" to each other?

Something like:

I'm only shorter because Luigi sat on me in the womb!

Well I'm only skinnier because YOU stole all the nutrients!

[pinkeoni]

I feel as though there is a desire to completely dichotomize byler when they don’t need to be polar opposites in order to fit together. They are individuals, but it’s their differences AND their similarities that make their dynamic what it is

[yekokataa]

thinking about how weird it is that centuries don't have numbers, but rather names. but technically the current year in DE is 8051.

[prettyboykatsuki]

malice of a pretty face | scaramouche (wanderer)

✮ tags ; adapted from genshin canon but not genshin canon, gn!reader, forced marriage but they ally together, role reversal, scaramouche is called bride mostly jokingly, physically smaller than reader, reader has a female concubine in their bed and kisses them / had sex w them, reader is a tyrant ruler type, age gap (scara is 20 ish and reader is like 28), opium usage, raiden shogun is scara's mother who sold him out, political affairs, handjobs + making out 18+

✮ wc ; 3.4k

✮ a/n ; what if i want to be the tyrant emperor for a change huh. what then. also scaramouche is called bride but gender and stuff is whatever in this universe.

some background, this is not genshin techincally. its like adapted to be a royalty au. reader is a recent ruler of their homeland. scaramouche is a raidens son. he didn't get a lot of choice in coming but he has no political power in his homeland

(this is a rewrite of a concept i posted a while ago but i cant find the ask where someone tells me to expand so hope this finds u anon

✮ synopsis ; your "bride" hails from inazuma and comes to you dressed in white, with eyes full of lightning.

A knock on your door snaps you out of your pointless thinking. Your close companion and Royal Advisor clears his throat before addressing you. 

“Your bride has been prepared for you,”

“Come in.” 

The brown door creaks as it opens, the gold embellishments on either side catching light. The hallway behind is empy but bright. Your advisor stands behind your esteemed guest with a look of mild exasperation. Subtle as it may be, it makes the corner of your lip quirk in amusement. At the door is your betrothed. 

Your bride comes to you wrapped in white. 

“I’ll leave you too it,” Says your advisor, code for please get along that has you nodding your head. You hum quietly, waving him away. He sighs as he shuts the door, leaving your guest standing at the door awkwardly. 

As the rumors have said so many times over, the Raiden Shoguns only heir is strikingly beautiful. Pale thing he is, white as a porcelain doll and nearly half your size. Even in the lowlights of your bedroom, the blurriness of candlelight, you can see the sharpness of his eyes. A signature purple, the color of royalty and trademark of the Inazuman dynasty and bloodline.

For a peace offering, he reeks of defiance. Just standing there with his arms crossed, fists clenched and jaw tight. He looks like he wants to burn the entire palace to the ground where he stands. You’re sure if you picked him apart enough he’d tell you just that. Intel tells you he’s easy to provoke, and for a Prince of his nation - he’s quite the fighter too. 

You aren’t sure how much he knows of this by now. Or if he knows that you’ve learned all sorts of things about him.

Most of all, he’s intriguing. Beautiful but prickly and poisonous. You’re captivated by how much he seethes. You tilt your head as your leg up, your back against the wall. You glance briefly at the concubine asleep in your bed, back exposed. Your robe is half-fallen over your shoulder, the bandaging on your chest and shoulder visible. 

You take a long inhale of the pipe resting on your bed, lungs filling with opium before you push it. Another cloud of smoke fills the room, relief in your back as you exhale. You tilt your head at him. 

“Will you stand there the whole time?” You ask placidly. It angers him even more for a reason you’re unable to discern. 

“Why would I get near a belligerent tyrant like you?”

You chuckle. Despite himself, there’s a tinge of anxiety to his protesting. He’s young and on guard. You’re sure your reputation with the Royal Harem has served you no favors, so he must think you’re going to pounce on him. 

You shake your head. 

“I like to sedate my prey before I eat it. I won’t lay a hand on you.” 

Surprised by your deduction, a flush draws on his features. You smile wispily, before another thought crosses your mind. His name dawns on you, Scaramouche you think it was. 

“Ah, or is it this that’s troubling you?” You say, gesture vaguely to the naked person in your bed laying comfortably “Should I send her away before we speak?” 

Your conversation stirs her. Scaramouche stares on. Instead you glance at the woman before you as she wakes, turning to her side. Barren skin save for jewelry, she runs her hands through her hair as she yawns. 

“Oh, Your Highness. Already another round? I hardly got any rest.” She pouts. Her behavior is amusing to you always.

“Not today. My spouse has come to visit, so I’m sending you back to your chambers.” You say smoothly. She pouts, sitting up. The sheets that covered her so thinly have fallen, revealing the rest of her. A set of gold anklets that match with gold necklaces and gold bracelet. She sits up on her knees and wraps her around your neck.

“How cruel,” She whines, rubbing herself against you “How could you abandon when you favor me so much, hm?” 

“You’re quite clever aren’t you? Trying to seduce me in front of my lover, and all?” 

She pulls back to giggle. 

“So you’ve seen through me. I don’t care for being sent away, you know?”

“What would you like as reconciliation?” You say.

“A kiss goodbye,” She replies easily. This time you look to Scaramouche. His face is burning red. 

“Is it alright with you?” 

He scoffs “As if it matters what I think.” 

“I’ve asked you haven’t I?” 

“Do as you please.” 

You laugh. He says as much but he can't help but stare. He looks embarrassed, albeit you can’t imagine which thing is troubling him so much. It’s entertaining.

You kiss her goodbye as she’s asked, though you know what type of kiss she’s asking for. A deep kiss, the kind where you have to hold her by the nape of her neck. Salacious in nature, where she squirms and holds the front of your robe. You pull away with a laugh, rubbing her lower lip. 

“Send my regards to everyone. It might be some time before I visit again.” 

“How heartbreaking. I’ll do as you wish, Your Highness.” She stands to her feet, pulling herself out of bed and putting on the clothes left on the floor with a sigh. Her feet pad against the marble floor as she walks away. 

She stops to look at Scaramouche before leaving, bowing her head in respect before standing back. She whispers something to him (that turns his face into a blushing mess once more) before patting him on the shoulder gently. 

“I’m off,” She says, waving a hand but not looking back. The door clicks back shut a second time, leaving the two of you alone in silence. You take another drag from your pipe. 

“Come. Sit.” 

He does as you ask this time, stomping with a characteristic frustration that you stop to laugh at internally. He sits on the corner of your mattress, legs crossed. You get to see him up close this time. What delicate features he has, he couldn’t be any older than 21. The white silks he’s dressed in are fine. A thin, lace collar goes up to his throat.  A skirt with high slits about the legs and lacy socks to cover the legs. He’s wearing something over it too, draped over his shoulders. You can see the cut-out of his chest. You only glance. Any longer than this and you’re sure he’ll protest. 

“What troubles you, my bride?” 

He grits his teeth. 

“I’m no bride.” 

“I know,” You say, without any hesitation “You’re the only filial son of the Great Raiden Shogun. I may be a tyrant, but I am no fool.” 

This information surprises him. He wears his emotions on his face, as expected. He’s not gotten so far without being clever. The bounty on his head is insurmountable. There’s a tension in the room, an unspoken heaviness in the air. Quite a fragile thing he is. 

“Then this, this marriage  - it’s fraudulent isn’t it?” He says, angry. You hum. 

“I knew before we wedded. Under the law of Tevyat and in the eyes of the Nation, you are my betrothed.” 

He’s catching up to all that you know. You know it all. The rumors of the cold and unyielding Raiden Shogun. The desolate lands of Inazuma, the loss of childhood and the change in the young man. Rumors of the angry Crown Prince and his bleeding heart. How he was sacrificed for power to your hands, for the eternal vision of Inazuma. 

Of course you know.

“Then why…if you know about me, then why?” 

“The Raiden Shogun offered you to me to get in my good graces. There’s political fairs involved but the simply reason is because I wanted to. You’re easy on the eyes.”

He ignores your flirtatious comment as you expect. 

“What are the political affairs?” 

“Inazuma wishes to strengthen it’s naval army and a small nation requires resources. Since I’ve only just gained power after killing the Emperor, my position for the throne is destabilized and marriage was the best option to stabilize it again,” You explain, already bored just hearing yourself. 

“We don’t gain anything from joining hands with Inazuma as it stands. And plenty of people have vouched desperately for my marriage. The simple answer is because an offer like the only child of the Raiden Shogun, who’s beauty is world-renowned is quite the tempting offer.” 

He looks down, away from you and you resist your own laughter. 

“I despise you,” 

“I know that too. That pretty face of yours doesn’t leave much for imagination. What will you do my dear? Will you run? Cry? Scheme into driving a knife in my heart? Lure me into security and disappear?” 

“...You’re personality is quite twisted.” 

“I’m curious about the faces you make, that’s all. What will you do, how will you react, how you think. But I do not intend to make you miserable. There’s much to discuss,” 

“....Why are you posing as if you’re kind?” 

“A caged animal will lash out for it’s freedom,” You say, titting your head to one side “But a looked after one will never bite the hand that feeds.” 

“Wouldn’t you be the one closer to an animal with your tendencies?” 

“A beast, I hear so often. My point is the same. If I intend to make you even a begrudging ally, I’m not interested in angering you. Nor forcing myself upon you for that matter,” You add the last part intentionally. 

“Disgusting,” He says, all while staring at the curve of your neck and your body “Really,” 

“I do not intend to force you, but if you’re so against the idea - I think it’d only be fair I’m allowed to see my concubines. It’s your choice.” 

He frowns at your explanation. You grin.

“Are you so troubled by it? Would you prefer I only long for you?”

“D-don’t word it like that.” He says, a shake in his voice. You hum, taking a long drag from your pipe. 

“Maybe you’re the sentimental type? A lover from the homeland? Or perhaps, you’re just too inexperienced to be confident?” 

You can see the exciting look on his face. That type of shame that very few nobles wear. Most of them degenerates, or liars. Prim and properly deceitful. You look at Scaramouche’s honest face and feel something between your legs. How much he wishes to admonish you, or even push you away but is all too curious to refuse. An expression like that is a jewel, a diamond waiting for polish. 

You have to chip around it, bit by bit. Too much force and you’ll scratch his beautiful surface, you only pull at him gently. Tease him so tenderly he can’t scurry off. 

“Shut up. You know nothing about me,” 

“If you’re unsure, you can always try. I can teach you much easier than most,” You say. You wonder if he’ll call your bluff. But he doesn’t. He sits and folds his hands in your lap. He reminds you a bit of those Glaze Lily’s all the way from Liyue. Cold and blue and eye-catching. 

Scaramouche does not call your bluff. He shifts to cover his legs and something is overwhelmed inside you. You hold your breath a little. So skittish. 

“There’s nowhere for me to return to,” He says first, surprising you, a bitterness in his tone that pleases you “It’s not like I want to stay here or be your ally. But returning to a place that has discarded me is even more disgusting.” 

“So we’re allies for now. Understood,” You say, glancing at him “Then, are you giving me permission to sleep with you?” 

His eyes widen, face reddening to an impossible degree. A belly laugh leaves you. What a simple person in the end. 

“You―W-we have to consummate the marriage, don’t we? A-and if I stay here, I’ll have power. Leaving it open means it’ll be nullified and―” 

“You don’t need to explain yourself to me. If you feel too embarrassed about your desires, you may spread rumors about simply quelling my appetite,” You say with a mild expression, intending it with sincerity “It’d be a shame to do nothing when you’ve dressed up so nicely for your arrival. Come closer,” 

Your comment must bother him, but he resigns himself. He does as he’s asked, slowly getting on his knees and crawling towards you. His eyes are erratic, skin flush. He’s simply sitting across from you and he can’t look at you directly. You’re a little astonished by the extent of his innocence, especially with all the violent rumors around him. You blow out the flame of your pipe, and lean to one side away from you.

Then you stretch your legs out, placing your hands gently on his waist so he doesn’t startle. You manuever so he’s stradling you, his knees on either side of your thigh. Looking at him closely is exciting. There’s makeup on his face. Crushed pink pigment smeared on his lip and smoothed with oil and eyes lined with something dark. You reach your hand up to cup his face, and he manages not to flinch. 

Though you can hear his heart beat. It’s tremendously loud. Nervous.

“Relax, I won’t eat you, for now. I’ll take take responsibility. Have you kissed anyone?” 

“S-so what if I haven’t?” 

“We’ll start there. Close your eyes and follow me.” 

He listens obediently again, closing his eyes. His hands are clenched over his knee. You grab them and let them rest over your shoulders before sneaking your hand to the side of his face. You lean in to kiss him gently, his skin soft. He smells like lavender and oats, the hairs on his nape brushing against your fingers delicately. His lips are soft as you start slowly, opening your mouth just a little. He learns quickly, following your actions without trying to take lead. 

You pull away and do it again. Again and again and again until you’re used to the pace. You use your free hand to squeeze at his delicate waist, relishing in how easily he succumbs to the feelings. He lets out something like a moan that embarasses him near immediately as he pulls away. He’s clumsy but it’s cute, and makes you want to kiss him more. 

He turns his head, using his wrist to cover his mouth which you grab swiftly. You grab his chin too, rubbing your thumb on his lip. 

“Open your mouth and stick your tongue out,” You say, a little more eager than last. He makes a face but listens. You mimic him before kissing him one more time. The feeling of your tongue must surprise him. Either way, his body responds so beautiful. He nearly melts in your arms as you wrap them around his waist, fingers dancing to any bare skin you can. He makes a pretty, pitchy sound for you but doesn’t pull away this time. 

When you stop kissing him, his face looks hazy. Frustrated, he almost goes to chase your mouth but stops himself. You smirk just barely, before busying your mouth on his chin. Open kisses trace his jaw as you lean into his pulse. 

It beats under your teeth, his heart does, so red and so loud. For a minute you really do want to eat him alive, devour him in one swallow. But you restrain yourself from such desires, instead putting little marks on his body for tommorrow. So everyone knows not to say anything about his status. He can resent you later but for now, it’s a safety precaution. 

He makes sounds like a melody, a string insturment in the warm sun. There’s something divinely beautiful about him. His body reacts to your simple touches, a shiver running up his spine as you kiss his neck and grope him lightly. It excites you, those innocent reactions. Makes something stir in your gut and grow hot between your legs. 

You feel something shift underneath you. When you look, there’s something hard poking from his clothes. It makes a tent in the delicate fabric where he stands. You pull away just to stare at it, amused by how hard he is.

“Stop looking at it or I’ll gouge your eyes out,” 

“It’s cute,” You say with conviction, wrapping your hands around the base with the fabric and squeezing the base “I should get to look,” 

“W-what are you?” 

“I’ll bet a stuck-up prince type like you didn’t get much education. There are more ways than one to feel pleasure than sticking it in. I’ll show you, so don’t run away,” 

He doesn’t have the words to protest. He doesn’t refuse you, just watches through his hands. You rub him so slightly through the thin material. Can see it clear with your eyes adjusted. It fits easily in your palm, tip harsh pink and curved. You place your thumb over the tip, smearing the pre-cum leaking onto the fabric. He’s so sticky, so hard and hot in your palms. 

“It’d be better if I touched you directly, but you’re cute like this. So lewd,” 

He has nothing to say. A whine or protest gets cut short with a groan of pleasure. You laugh a little. You search the bed for a bottle of oil with your free hand. When you find it, you pull away and drip it into your hands. 

“Hold this up for me.” You say softly. He hesitates but does, pulling the skirt up until his cock is visible. You rub the oil into your hands, warming it before wrapping around the shaft. The skin-to-skin proves to be a lot for him, his body already trembling though you’ve hardly touched him. He’s much heavier like this, His cock is smooth and he’s near hairless, You can see so much of him, the plane of his stomach and the musculature of his thighs. 

He’s got lithe muscle, nothing too hard or too defined but there all the time. He’s got a dip in one of his hips and a mole that you’ll kiss some other time, just above where you’re touching. You wonder if there’s more. Once you have your way with him you’ll count. 

You stroke him slowly and easily. Any more than this might be cruel since this much action seems to be too much. You watchi his expression as you build to a steady pace, paying special attention to the head. His expression is debauched. Inexperienced as you expected, but perhaps even more than that - sensitive. He’s throbbing against the curves of your roughened skin, gasping and holding hard onto your shoulder as he tries to keep himself tight in one place. You lean your head forward, kissing just under his pec. 

“This is as far as I’ll go today. Cum for your beloved, hm? Show me your face?” 

That seems to do it for him. The use of lover in such a context pushes him over the edge and it only takes two more strokes to spill into your fingers. Thick, hot ropes of cum makes a mess of your fingers as he ruts his cock into your palms chasing his high.

When he’s finished, he nearly collapses into your lap. It sedates all of his previous angers, something you note in the back of your mind. 

You bring your hand up your mouth, tasting it. He gasps, scandalized. 

“That’s dirty!” 

“I’ve done worse. Besides it wasn’t bad. Hand me that,” You gesture. He tosses you the rag to wipe your hand with and you toss it in the basket at the end of your bed. Before he can push you away, you pull him into your arms and laydown. 

“What are you doing?” He says, indignant. 

“Holding you,” You say without blinking, looking down at him. You wrap your arms around his waist and let him cuddle into you “The concubines get angry if I don’t after,” 

“...Don’t talk about them right now,” 

You laugh “Right, sorry.” 

“....What about me?” 

You laugh a little at him pretending he isn’t worried. 

“I know you said not to mention it but I’m all worn out for today. So get some sleep. I’ll have my Advisor prepare more in the morning but you should rest.” 

“Ugh. Fine. If you insist,” He says, melting into you anyway. You laugh to yourself as he closes his eyes. 

You’ve signed up for something fun.

[shima-draws]

Someone ACTUALLY just tried to tell me that it’s more “morally acceptable” to ship Luffy and Hancock than it is to ship Sanlu. Are you for REALLLLLL

[sonyshock]

*takes a nap while Faust rambles about the war, like he's some kind of messed up ASMR vid*

Faust ASMR......

[youjibyers]

Honestly this sounds ridiculous but sometimes I think the constant bowl cut jokes that the ga and reddit make about Will are basically them just coping and seething at the idea of Will being an actually important character. It’s like every time they only choose to focus on how silly they think his haircut is, they progressively devalue his character and take him less and less seriously. And it kinda seems like they’re just trying to convince themselves that Will could not possibly be important to the narrative, could not possibly be explored in a deep and significant way-not because they correctly understand the story but because they really do not want a gay male character to be focused on in “their” show. The amount of attention Will and his sexuality get already is probably too much for some of them.

Because stranger things is so mainstream, I wouldn’t be surprised if a lot of people just subconsciously view it as a “normal people show” even though it started as a show about/for outcasts. Thus, the more focus that’s given to a gay male character, the more it becomes a “gay show,” and if their “normal show” starts becoming a “gay show,” it will make a part of the audience feel duped and “forced” into confronting a subject that makes them uncomfortable: homosexuality (and its associated struggles). And a lot of these people would be especially angry at this development because they can’t even comprehend that competent, male creators might willingly tell a story about a gay boy, so they end up assuming that the creators must have been pressured to force the story into taking a turn for the gay, or that they’ve been brainwashed by the woke agenda-after all, they couldn’t just be progressive people who sat down and simply decided naturally that they wanted to explore homosexuality as a major theme in a sci-fi horror show from the start. That’s not even allowed, right? Gay stuff should be contained and quarantined in gay-specific genres like a disease, right?

Anyway, I just think it’s maybe not a coincidence that I see way less “reducing Will to his haircut” behavior from people who are invested in the complexity and humanity of his character compared to the people who clearly want him to stay small and hidden, out of sight and out of mind.

[buko-pandan]

Maria Clara at Ibarra | Period Costumes 19th century Philippines

[rot-dogz]

i think itd be really funny if nightheart got progressively more rusted/sun bleached as the series goes on "IM NOT GINGER" (literally turning red)

[wolframpant]

Antonia Maior and Antonia Minor in Domina (Season 2)

[fitzrove]

Bad dark joke but I feel like cultural representations of crown prince rudolf and the extreme overemphasis/influence of 1888-1889 in discussions of him are kind of like the internet meme thing with blobfish. Like that's his sad corpse you're parading around and showing to people,,,,,