#that includes the scripture

[gemstarstarlight]

Grief is weird.

What they don’t tell you is that grief can be about anything. Loss is something that happens to everyone, but it’s not just death. Grief comes when you lose something precious to you.

Over the past two to three years I have lost my relationship with my dad. And it’s never been very good to begin with, hasn’t been good for a decade, but over the last two years it has completely withered and died.

It started emotionally, then theologically, and finally politically. And it’s not like one stopped when the next one started. It’s just one layer after another layer. Exponential hurt continues exponenting while another one starts.

It’s really hard to lose your respect for someone, but that’s what’s happened. I no longer respect the man that is supposed to be my father. I don’t look up to him, I don’t see him as a role model, and I don’t want to be around him.

And that’s sad. I used to love him. I used to want him to care for me, to see me. Now I’m terrified of his opinion because I don’t want to deal with it. I don’t want to deal with the emotion swings, the painful words, the close minded politics, the grief I feel when I hear him talk about God.

Because that’s the worst part. The way he talks about God is so sad to me. I don’t know why, but all he sees is a God who is never satisfied. He only sees himself in the text: his own insecurities, his own perfectionism, his own resolve to do better whenever there is failure.

There is no acceptance, there is no grace for him. All he sees in the text is his own salvation. His own coping mechanisms. His own unprocessed grief.

I wonder if he feels like a failure as a father and is thus so hard on himself? If he still feels the pain of his own losses? If he even thinks about what he’s doing? I don’t know.

All I know is that I cannot see my father as someone worthy of respect anymore. His values, his biblical interpretation, and his view of humanity are totally incompatible and I cannot be in the room with him anymore.

[ghostsmp3]

The Chosen, 4.04 "Calm Before"

[absolutedigitalbranding]

Guru Granth Sahib contains 5894 hymns (shabad) written in 60 melodies (raag) by 35 authors, including 6 Sikh Gurus, 15 Bhagats, 3 Divines and 11 Poets, all from different social classes, religions, and spiritual traditions – making the Sikh scripture the world's most interfaith scripture. #gurugranthsahib #gurugranthsahibparkashutsav

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[nerdysk8s]

Article by a "woman pastor": You should just call us pastors because we want to be pastors. Don't question our calling because you wouldn't question a man's calling.

Actually we do or at least should! Church leadership roles have very specific requirements laid out in the Bible and it should be determined by churches if the man is qualified. If we let anybody do whatever they want in the church, it would lead to chaos and heresy.

[exquisite-extreme]

oh 🥹

wake up besties, new quiz just dropped 😌

[mindfulldsliving]

Ministering with Compassion: Addressing the Harm Behind “The Church is Perfect, But the People Are Not”

The phrase “The church is perfect, but the people are not” has been a source of controversy and reflection for many of us. It raises a critical question: what does it mean to be part of a community that embodies spiritual ideals while still being made up of flawed individuals? As Latter-day Saints, we often find ourselves navigating this balance, recognizing the divine potential within the church…

[nejackdaw]

Started losing my shit over the Judas album again at all of 9:30 this morning. I am incapable of "just a casual listen"

[fckmeupflorida]

came late into the lecture & answered a question straight away and the lecturer says correct and. hands me a chocolate. lol

[quietplace26]

SAGAU au, but MC is the actual IMPOSTER, and the real CREATOR is a selfish asshole.

Imagine a MC who knew about the SAGAU aus from Tumblr, and who woke up one day in Genshin Impact, right outside Mondstadt.

They at first feel amazement, but then they see the statues... with their face. They realize then they were in a true SAGAU cult situation.

With this fact, they decided to test something. They prick their finger. Their blood is red, not gold. They weren't the CREATOR. They were the IMPOSTER.

Imagine how with this knowledge, the MC decides to stay away from all the nations and people. They didn't want to be mistaken as the CREATOR after all.

Because really, even if they did take over the CREATOR's throne for a bit until the true CREATOR arrived, what's to say all of Teyvat would take their lies nicely. They didn't want to die, thank you!

So, imagine MC hiding out in the wilderness, avoiding the whole cast of Genshin as the true CREATOR arrived and took the throne.

Only... the CREATOR wasn't like how the scriptures said. They were rude, arrogant, lazy, selfish even! ...But the people of Teyvat forgave them because oh, their grace was tired after their long journey, they deserve to be spoil. They would show everyone their love when they're better... Right?

Only, they didn't. The CREATOR remained how they were, and even Archon's themselves could only take so much...

Which is why it was Venti who happens upon the MC first.

Venti, who was tired from their precious CREATOR's tasks and 'love', happens upon a MC who gathering firewood for her tiny modest cottage. And he's like, who's this? An IMPOSTER with his grace's face? And before he could reach for his bow to enact 'justice'... His stomach growls.

MC, despite their fear... invites him to have dinner with them.

The Ameno Archon ends up staying the whole night, venting loudly as the MC refilled some dandelion wine they found left behind by some treasure holders while scavenging.

"Y-you're so nice, hic, w-why couldn't you have been the CREATOR..." Venti slurs, letting MC tuck him into their sole bed and he drifts off to sleep...

This whole interaction leads to a domino effect, as more of the Mondstadt characters stumble across the MC... and begin thinking along the same lines as Venti.

Why couldn't this person have been the CREATOR?

Soon it was open secret among the people of Mondstadt, and MC would have guests or travelers from Mondstadt camping out near their home while they were out in the Mondstadt wildness doing work and stuff.

Like it wasn't uncommon for Bennet or Amber to stop by as they did their routes, along with some the knights and Mondstadt adventurers, who mostly was just checking on MC or visiting with some supplies that just happened to have on hand.

This also weirdly included Dvalin, of all things. As MC woke up one morning to find the Ameno dragon snoozing on their front lawn like a cat napping under the sun.

All he tells MC is that Venti said they were nice, and he'd like him.

...At least MC had someone to nap with when Venti couldn't visit. Dvalin's fluff was so soft! The perfect pillow!

They were also even pleasantly surprised when Diona and Klee showed up one morning with some snacks... and a brand-new deck of TCG, just for MC.

With deck on hand, it wasn't uncommon for some of MC's visitors to pull them into a game. Though things did get awkward when someone drew the CREATOR card, which they immediately chucked into MC's fireplace with a huff and curse, breaking the awkward air with giggles.

Albedo, with his artsy self, even made MC a card that represented themselves, which was a sweet gift.

Though all the joy comes to an end when someone snitches. Apparently, a traveler from a different nation, caught sight of MC in the woods while on foot to Mondstadt and immediately told the CREATOR about an IMPOSTER on the loose!

Venti of course was one of the first to be sent out to deal with 'it'. Ugh, it made him sick at hearing the MC be refered as an 'it'. But he quickly finds them, helps them pack their things, and smuggles them to the border that led into Liyue.

There were tears as MC hugged Venti, whispering a quiet, "Thank you, Venti... Tell the others I'll miss them? A-and please don't drink too much, ok?" They had a shaky smile on their face, and Venti just hugs them one more time before pushing them towards Liyue.

And as MC disappears into the distance Venti prays that Morax and Liyue would see what he and Mondstadt saw in MC once the time came...

"...Be safe, MC. May the winds guide you to freedom..."

[devdozes]

Love me like a sailor

im sorry it was a long time anwyyas hope u like the fic ! horror, dark romance ig?, lowkey YANDERE some spoilers on 3.2 quest, and just silliness

The scent of laurel smoke curled through the air, laced with something older, bitter—like burnt parchment and hubris. You stood beneath the Sacred Tree, where philosophers carved truth into bark and left their minds to rot with honor. They called this place holy.

You called it absurd.

“Found something funny?”

His voice was a low purr, golden in timbre, venomous in rhythm. Anaxagoras—Anaxa, as he insisted you call him when no one else could hear—emerged from the columns like a specter from forgotten scripture. His robes shimmered like oil on water, reflecting knowledge too painful to bear. Eye the color of the sweet magenta-cyan ombre.

You didn’t look away.

“Only the idea that anyone here thinks they know anything at all.”

That smile. That cursed smile. He hated it. He loved it.

“Blasphemy,” he whispered, delighted. “You’ll fit right in.”

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

The Nousporists had no scriptures, no prayers, only questions so sharp they left the mind bleeding. Anaxa led them like a messiah of madness, burning every ideal of truth to rebuild his own version—twisted and elegant, cruel and beautiful.

You should have left the Grove.

Instead, you debated him.

And that’s when the trouble began.

Because when you said, “You’re wrong,” with a laugh in your voice and not a shred of fear in your eyes, he felt something break. And Anaxa did not break.

So he followed you. He read your discarded notes. Memorized your arguments. Stole the scent of your skin from the folds of your coat when you left it unattended. Rewrote his entire doctrine to include you as a conceptual axis without you noticing.

He never touched you.

He never dared.

But every night, in the sanctum where thoughts became flame and philosophies were branded into flesh, he dreamed of flaying the world open and handing you its still-beating heart.

“You don’t get tired of chasing your own logic circles?” you asked once, after a particularly vicious debate.

Anaxa looked you dead in the eye slowly, as though the sight of your breath misting in the cold air was sacred.

“I only walk in circles because you are the center.”

You laughed.

He didn’t.

The Nousporists were not a school. They were a fever. An idea that spread like mold under gilded thought. Founded by Anaxa, born from his desire to prove that even divinity could fracture under scrutiny. To challenge the Coreflame of Reason was to challenge god itself—and so he did.

But what the others never understood was this:

The Nousporists were built for you.

His "heresies"? All mimics of your questions.

Does truth decay the longer we observe it? Is prophecy a mirror, or a command? Can love exist without misinterpretation?

You were not a lover. Not yet.

You were a problem.

Anaxa studied you like a puzzle made of void and starlight. Every time you opened your mouth, it wasn’t words—it was scripture only he could hear.

Subject Log, Entry 12 I accused her of solipsism. She laughed. She asked if I dream in color. I lied and said yes. (Note: I need to know what she dreams. Perhaps she dreams me.)

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

The deeper your research delved into the Chrysos Lineage, the less you slept. The more Anaxa watched you not as a peer, but as a phenomenon.

Your desk was a chaos of forbidden manuscripts, old glyphs glowing faintly, and diagrams of neural decay. At the center was your theory: The chrysosis was not divine punishment, but cognitive overload—a truth so absolute the brain set itself aflame to escape it.

Anaxa began sleeping in your study. He said it was to "supervise your deductions."

He never slept.

One night, while researching on Tribios as per Anaxa's request, you fell asleep with your cheek pressed to your notes. When you stirred, hours later, Anaxa was still at your side, chin resting on his folded arms beside you. His eyes were closed. Not asleep. Just...waiting.

He whispered, "I tried to dream about you. But I couldn’t replicate you. Not even in sleep."

Your breath caught. You wanted to mock him, to defuse it—but the way he looked at you made your heart crack sideways. Like you were his last theorem. Like he would kill every scholar in the Grove if it meant you’d say his name just once with awe.

And perhaps you did. Quietly.

"Anaxa." Holy fucking shit, he felt his undead heart burst up with blood

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

The Chrysos Heirs—beings of legend, said to carry the golden blood of the gods—were central figures in Amphorean history. Aglaea, the Goldweaver, stood as the acting leader of the Heirs, her divine authority inherited from the Titan Mnestia. Phainon, the Nameless King was undergoing the trial of the Coreflame. Hyacine, the enigmatic priest, was whispered to possess the ability to mend the celestial realm and to bear the fate of Aquila. Mydei, the Undying, bore a curse that rendered him immortal, a testament to his harrowing past. Cipher, the Fleet-footed, was a shadow that danced on the fringes of time, her allegiance and motives obscured, She was the demi-god of Zagreus.​

Together, you and Anaxa embarked on a clandestine journey to dissect the essence of these figures. Nights were spent poring over ancient manuscripts, deciphering prophecies, and constructing theories that bordered on heresy.

The question that haunted your research was profound: What was the true nature of the Coreflames, and why were these individuals deemed worthy of their inheritance?

"The Titans,"

Anaxa mused one evening, fingers tracing the faded ink of a forbidden text, "were said to have crafted the very fabric of our existence. Their Coreflames are not mere symbols of power; they are fragments of creation itself."

You nodded, the gravity of his words sinking in. "And the Chrysos Heirs are the vessels chosen to wield these fragments. But by whom? And to what end?"

Anaxa's eyes gleamed with a mixture of excitement and something deeper, more insidious.

"That, my dear, is the crux of our inquiry."

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

Your research led you to the origins of the Titans themselves—beings born from the Coreflames, each embodying fundamental aspects of existence. Kephale, the Worldbearing Titan, had sacrificed their Coreflame to ignite the Dawn Device, creating a sanctuary amidst the chaos wrought by the Black Tide. This act of selflessness set the stage for the rise of the Chrysos Heirs.

"The Black Tide," Anaxa pondered aloud, "was the catalyst that plunged the Titans into madness. But what if it was more than a mere calamity? What if it was a deliberate act to dismantle the old order?

The notion was radical, yet it aligned with the patterns you had begun to discern. "And the Chrysos Heirs are the instruments to establish a new order—a cycle perpetuated by the acquisition of Coreflames." Anaxa's expression darkened, a shadow crossing his features.

"A cycle that demands scrutiny. For if we are to break free from the chains of predestination, we must first understand the forge in which they were crafted."

"So, in simple words, The current chrysos heirs who bear the coreflame of the deceased titans, will bear the misfortune of becoming the titan in the next cycle..?" You questioned as your eyes widened to meet his magenta-cyan eyes this time driven with something which not even you knew.

"Correct." He said as his grin widened.

You glanced up to find him sitting unnervingly still, the ink quill idle in his hand. His eyes were on you—but not in the way a scholar looked at a peer.

His gaze had slipped. Dropped. Traced the curve of your jaw, the line of your lips. He wasn’t hearing your words anymore. His lips parted as if something sat behind them—some urge, some truth trying to claw its way out.

Your throat felt dry.

“...Anaxa?”

He didn’t look away. His stare stayed heavy. Dark. Hungry in a way he’d never let surface before.You shifted in your seat, your heart thudding once in your chest, louder than it should’ve.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

He blinked once. Slowly. And smiled with an unsettling softness, like he was indulging in something he wasn’t supposed to. “Forgive me. You said something… that caught my attention.”

“Something about the Heirs?”His eyes flicked back up to yours. “Something far more dangerous. Your breath hitched. The tension in the room was suffocating now—thick, aching.

You couldn’t explain why your pulse was racing, or why you suddenly felt like you were being studied not as a colleague, but as a mystery he was desperate to unravel.

You looked back down at your scroll, trying to focus.

“W-We should finish transcribing this section before—”

His voice was lower now. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

You froze. Slowly looked back up.

Anaxa’s smile had vanished. His fingers were curled around the edge of the table, knuckles white. His pupils dilated. The madness in his gaze shimmered like oil beneath a calm sea.

“Every night I leave this chamber and I think I’ve regained my composure. And then I see you again and I—” He stopped himself, biting down on the inside of his cheek. “...This is not what I intended. I wanted truth. I wanted the the true reason of all of us, the Titans’ legacy. But now I find myself… wanting something I was not supposed to want.”

You stared. Unable to speak.

“And it infuriates me,” he said, so quietly you almost didn’t hear it. “Because it makes me weak. You make me weak.” The words hit you harder than they should’ve.

You felt hot. Flushed. You didn’t know what you were supposed to say. Was he confessing? Was he unraveling?

“Anaxa…” you started, voice shaky, unsure if it was warning or invitation. He leaned forward, slow, calculated—like a predator who didn’t want to scare its prey, but couldn’t help indulging in the thrill of it. His hand stopped just beside yours, close enough to feel the heat of his skin.

But he didn’t touch you.

He wouldn’t. Not yet.

“I won’t do anything you don’t want,” he whispered, voice dangerously soft. “But you should know this: the more we uncover, the more I realize the truth of this world is nothing compared to the truth I’ve found in you.” He said as he forcefully moves back away from you, in fear and something else

You held his gaze. Breath shallow.

The silence between you and Anaxa stretched taut—thick like honey, cloying like fate. He hadn’t moved since the moment he confessed those words.

The fire in his voice still clung to the air like smoke, and yet something in his expression had begun to flicker—falter.

His lashes lowered, eyes narrowing not with menace now, but something disturbingly fragile. Doubt. As if he expected your silence to become a knife. “I shouldn’t have said that,” he muttered suddenly, voice cracking at the edges.

“You’ll leave. You’ll run. Like all the others who called me cursed. Mad. A blasphemer…” You stood. Slowly. He didn’t flinch, but his jaw locked tight. He expected distance. Recoil. Rejection. A scholar might call it logical consequence—he called it inevitability. But you didn’t move away.

You stepped closer. He blinked, confusion warping into something far more desperate as he rose slightly tumbling backwards. “What are you—?”

You were close enough now to see the cracks in him. Not physical—no. His composure. That perfectly constructed mask he wore around the others, around even you, was splintering right at the edges.

You could see it in the twitch of his mouth. The unsteady breath.

The trembling in his fingers as he kept them clenched at his sides, refusing to reach for you. Because he didn’t dare. Because he feared touching you would shatter the only sacred thing left in his world.

You leaned forward. Brief. Barely a heartbeat’s worth of contact. Your lips brushed his. A breath. A flicker of softness. A question without words.Then you pulled back, just as fast.

Your heart thundered, panic laced in your movements as you turned to go, your voice stumbling out—“Forget that happened, we have research to—”

But you didn’t get far.

His hand was on your waist.

Gripping.

Firm.

Not rough.

Not yet. But trembling with restraint.Then he pulled you back, and suddenly he was burying his face into the crook of your neck like a man starved.

Like something had finally broken loose in him—unleashed, unstopped, unholy. You gasped softly as you felt his breath ghost across your skin.His voice was low, unsteady, wrecked.

“Why… would you do that to me?” His other hand found your back, clutching it like he was trying to make sure you were real.

Like you’d slip through his fingers otherwise.His grip tightened. And behind his calm whispering, behind the warm pressure of his body pressed into yours, his thoughts spiraled like wildfire—

She’s mine. She’s real. She kissed me. Me. Not them. Not the sages, not the heirs. Me. She chose me. She cannot leave. She cannot see the others. She cannot be claimed by anyone else. I will burn the world if it touches her. I will gut the sky itself if it looks at her wrong.

His eyes—glowing now, iridescent with the light of something not entirely sane—flickered open against your skin. He pressed his lips to your throat. Not a kiss. A mark. A claim without blood.

“You don’t know,” he whispered, trembling. “You don’t know what you’ve done to me.”

You didn’t know. But maybe… maybe you wanted to. Because you didn’t push him away .And that was enough to damn him.

Woah sorry if it's ooc and bad, I've lost my writing skills 😞

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCXDP fanfic idea: A Pen Pal's Duty

It starts off with a single letter.

Danny has always heard about pen pals through TV programs, but Amity Park was too small to participate in exchange programs, including passing letters. It was a concept that was all Hollywood to him.

He figured it was also one of those dying practices, and someday, no one would bother writing letters, especially with the increased paranoia of speaking to strangers that overtakes the country after people start figuring out the more likely kidnapping tactics that criminals use.

Not to mention the increase in scams. No one even answers a phone number they don't recognize anymore. Pen Pals just becomes a pipe dream.

Then, he becomes a hallfa with access to infinite worlds. Each is set in different time frames, locations, and languages. He figures that he could become a pen pal with one of them, and goes home to write the perfect first letter. He even calls in favor of one of the universe's most powerful beings, Ghostwriter, who can affect the fabric of the universe just so the man can write an epic poem centered around a mailbox.

This mailbox would connect their worlds but not allow travel, as the living can not enter the Realms. Ghostwriter is beside himself, claiming the symbolism of longing, of friendships transcending life and death, and of the power of the written word to connect worlds was too grand of a writing prompt for him not to do.

Danny stops listening after a moment, his eyes glazed over just like whenever Mr. Lancer talks about class readings. Eventually, the ghost has his mailbox set to station itself as soon as someone attempts to write back to Danny. He even wrote in a clause that allowed whoever became his pen pal to understand English the second they touched the letter.

Danny would gain the same knowledge once their fated pen pal wrote them back. Apparently, Ghostwriter wanted it to be a "chosen one" trope.

He told Danny to fly around the Infinite Realms, select a door, and let lose his introduction letter so that his powers could lead the letter to where it had to go.

Danny flies around for a while, trying to pick a world to throw his letter in, and eventually selects the one that seems almost crystalized were it not for the lines of technology he can see running through it.

He had written his letter as if though he had always been Phantom. The reason was that Danny didn't want whoever his pen pal-to-be to find out about Halfas, due to first-hand experience of what people did when finding rare beings such as he and Vlad.

Plus, Danny was also raised on the "Don't talk to strangers. Don't open the door if home alone. Don't tell anyone where he lived or what his age is online" ideals of his generation.

He was comforted by the fact that Ghostwriter could only pass along written scripture, and thus, the pen pals could not share photos or videos.

He opened the door, staring into the swirling green of the portal, and threw in his letter. To keep his identity further hidden behind Phantom, he made it seem like he could not cross into the living world either and thus could not entirely open the door himself.

A few days go by before Danny suddenly gets a Ding sound goes off in his head, letting him know someone has responded. It's torture waiting for the final bell to right, but the minute it does, Danny is racing out of school towards the Ghost Zone portal as fast as his human legs can take him.

He flies as fast as he can as Phantom- which is very fast. He just topped his latest speed at 300 mph- and found the same crystallized door. Outside of it, now flouts a glowing mailbox with the words D. Phantom inked on the side. A little red flag is raised, letting him know a delivery has arrived. Ghostwriter's symbol is also flouting near the box, letting other ghosts know not to touch it.

Once again, Ghostwriter has a reputation in the Infinite Realsm: there was a reason it took all the willing ghosts on Truce Day to help Danny take him down.

Feeling giggly, Danny pulls open the lid and finds a blank envelope inside. He rips it open at once, for a second not able to understand the writing, until a soft type writer sound echoes behind his ears, and suddenly he can read it.

Dear Phantom,

My name is Jor-El of planet Krypton. I was delighted to be the one to find your letter, and I hope we can become great friends. I am fourteen years old and dream of becoming a scientist who can help my people. Maybe when I become a successful scientist, I can even invent a way to travel to the home planet you hailed from when you were alive. I am already searching for Earth in my skies.

A friendship is born. Over the years, Jor and Danny trade many letters. They learn everything about each other, from Phantom's battles to Jor's crush on Lara. They advise each other where they can, trading ideas of inventions and research.

Jor makes a compiled file of his planet's culture and technology, eager to show Danny everything about Krypton while Danny does his best to do the same about Earth and the Realms. Danny's decision to be only Phantom with Jor can be a little hard to maneuver, but he makes it work by explaining he came to form in the Ghost Zone- technically not a lie- and all ghosts created in the zone can and will age.

Danny is even one of Jor's honorary stone bearers at his and Lara's wedding, while Danny names a few of his inventions after the house El.

Then, sometime after Jor's son is born, tragedy strikes. Danny had noticed that his friend's letters had slowed down, but he figured it was primarily due to being a new father and getting a high-paying position in his dream field. Danny's adult life was just as hectic as he was a department head at NASA's research and engineering department.

He could barely find time to visit family, let alone date around. Sam and he broke up in junior year but remained close friends. Danny dated around in college but really buckled down to focus on his career the closer he got to NASA. He had no idea how Jor was able to balance everything when he was working in Krypton's version of NASA.

He should have checked.

By the time he got Jor's newest letter, Danny had realized too late it would be his friend's final one. Jor had discovered his sun was exploding, and although he tried his best to save his planet, no one believed him until it was too late.

Thus, he focused all his energy and resources on creating two escape pods strong enough to escape the sun's gravitational pull. It wouldn't be large enough to see his whole family, but his son and niece could live. Jor wasn't sure if his escape rockets would even work, but he did not have time or the means to test them.

He just did his best with his brother's help to save their children and set the coordinates for a planet that once housed a dear friend: Earth.

The letter ended with a final goodbye to Danny. After reading the letter, Danny attempted to open the door and fly to Jor's rescue, but when it swung open, all he saw was the other side of the zone. It was merely a floating doorway that led nowhere now.

The portal was gone because Krypton was gone. Danny's pen pal and friend of twenty years was no more.

A scream of angst rattled through the Infinite Realms as one of it's most potent members realized he was powerless against the circle of life.

He made a tough decision.

Devastated, he eventually visited Ghostwriter, asking if Kara and Kal had survived, and the writer let him know that Kal would land on that universe's earth in a week (Jor had been dead for four days.) while Kara was floating in space, frozen after a malfunction in her rocket's blast. Since they were apart if Ghostwriter's recorded story of the mailbox he would know that much.

Sadly, now that the letters between Danny and Jor would end, Ghostwriter would no longer know their tale. They were out of his influence.

Danny couldn't save his friend or planet, but he wasn't about to let the two children down.

"You realize to live in one universe, you must die in another?" Clockwork asks for the millionth time as Danny suits up his rocket, taking every letter he and Jor shared and any personal item he could fit. "The second I open a doorway to that world's earth, you officially die in this one? Your family and friends will grieve you. You will never see them again."

"I know," Danny whispers, sending Sam, Tucker, his parents, and his sister a silent apology. "But I have to do this. Can you make it look like an accident? One that doesn't put the blame of my death on anyone's feet but my own?"

"I'll design the scene like an explosion of one of your experiments gone wrong. No one will be to blame." Ghostwriter solemnly swears. His eyes gain a pitying light that Danny has recognized over the years. After all, the narrator knows one of his biggest secrets because he saw it the second he wrote that pen pal system. "You can not replace Jor-El with Kal-El."

"Of course, I can't," Danny laughs without humor, sealing up his rocket. He gives the two ghosts a sad smile. "I'm not in love with Kal."

Clockwork stares impassively before he turns and waves his staff. A portal opens up before Danny. "This will take you to the Earth five minutes before Kal lands. When you are ready, you may pass but know this Phantom. You can not return to the Realms."

Ghostwriter sighs, placing one hand on Danny's shoulder. "Love is one of history's greatest gifts and saddest tragedies. I look forward to your story being written out in your new home. Remember to live while you are there."

Danny smiles, pulling the writer into a hug and ignoring how he goes rigid. "Thank you for everything you've done over the years, Ghostwriter."

"Think nothing of it. You were a wonderful muse," The man whispers as Danny hops into his ship. He stands by Clockwork, who shifts into his elder form as Danny powers up his boat. His eyes show a sad look as he stares up at the man he watches grow until the ship vanishes through Clockwork's portal.

"Will he be alright?" He asks the time god.

"He will. I arranged for him to inherit a forgotten farm next to a kind couple. The Kents are more than happy to help an overwhelmed single father of two and will grow to become like a set of grandparents for Kara and Kal." Clockwork answers.

"That's not what I'm asking."

Clockwork hums. "Danny's has long ago accepted that Jor's heart was never his. His core knows it, and he's grown accustomed to the pain. But he will find peace on that Earth. He even finds a new love."

"Who?"

"Now, that would be telling. As a writer, you know it's best to let the story unfold than to give it all away." Clockwork twirls his staff "But know his adoptive son and daughter are less than pleased with a Gotham Butler."

Ghostwriter blinks. "What does that mean?"

"It means Danny will have to dodge some overly protective bats. Now then, could you tell me about your latest work? It's been a long time since I enjoyed a good story."

[spidermanifested]

another black sails fantheory ive seen around a lot is that silver is jewish, usually specifically sephardic, but despite its prevalence i havent been able to find anybodys actual thesis statements about it. so if there are Essays out there (especially by somebody with more historical-slash-judaism knowledge than i with my meager wiki-crawls) i would love Links

however once again ive pondered a bunch of the stuff ive noticed personally, about mr john "if thats even your real name" silver. and honestly at this point id be kind of surprised if it Wasnt the actual context the writers shaped his character around. everything just seems to come together really neatly

hes impressively literate for his circumstances/time period, and really good at quickly memorizing large amounts of text. a solid religious education could very well explain this

specifically– and this is one of the things that feels like a huge bit of intentional subtext to me– the scene where hes hiding with the lepers and memorizing the urca schedule REALLY seems to evoke someone reading scripture under a prayer shawl

not only does he not know how to cook pork, but does not even seem to know what pork looks like when finished cooking

the pretext flint used to get his crew to hunt down the hamiltons' ship was that it was carrying sephardic riches. this is a completely throwaway detail we learn secondhand, in a story where there are very, very few completely throwaway details

silver speaks at least some spanish. this comes up Once and goes totally unquestioned by everyone around him, likely because they think he just picked it up as a sailor. he almost certainly has not been at sea long enough for this to be the case. speaking ladino as a first language on the other hand would give him a huge leg up (so to speak.) in that department

further point. around the time period of the show, the biggest sephardic community in the world lived in thessaloniki in modern-day greece. it was:

a) one of the most major seaports in the ottoman empire

b) a famous center for learning, which boasted 100% literacy of its jewish population

and c) despite its long and prosperous history under ottoman rule, beginning to decline along with the rest of the empire, for many interconnected reasons, including but not limited to: Problems With the Governments Handling of the Textile Industry (where have we heard that before)

lotta unrest. religious schisms and doomsday prophecies. reactionary groups of overempowered soldiers attacking civilians for stress relief (again. where have we heard that before). people, unsurprisingly, started leaving

so if you did want, against john silvers express wishes. to theorize a backstory for a surprisingly educated stowaway of Mystery Origin, who has Mystery Trauma and doesnt want anybody to know who he is or where he comes from, and which would give a new level of relevance to all the greek stuff that permeates the show (down to the actual name of the thing!), along with containing parallels to several other backstories and events in the show proper,

Well this one make sense i think 👍

[mariacallous]

WASHINGTON — Adam Schiff, the freshman Democratic senator from California, is being sworn into office on a 1490 edition of Maimonides’ Mishneh Torah, one of the most revered and prominent codes of Jewish law.

Schiff, in a statement ahead of his swearing in on Monday, said the edition, published in the duchy of Milan, now in northern Italy, was “a monumental legal code and one of the most organized, comprehensive, and influential works of Jewish law.”

The edition was published by Gershom ben Mosheh ish Sontsino, a scion of a pioneering Jewish printing family known as Soncino. A publishing house in the family’s name is still active.

A spokeswoman for Schiff, until this week a U.S. Representative and a former federal prosecutor, said he chose the volume, held by the Library of Congress, in part because of his concerns about the state of the rule of law as President-elect Donald Trump returns to office.

Schiff led one of Trump’s impeachments in the president’s first term and co-chaired the congressional investigation into the deadly Jan. 6, 2021 U.S. Capitol riot, which was spurred by Trump’s false claims he won that election. Trump, who has promised “retribution” against his perceived enemies, said this week Schiff should be jailed.

The spokeswoman said that Schiff was also attracted to the volume because of his intellectual curiosity. “It’s simply his nerdy interest in how old this volume is and how comprehensive it is,” she said.

Maimonides, also known as Rambam and considered one of history’s preeminent Jewish scholars, wrote the Mishnah Torah in the 12th century as an all-inclusive guide to the system of Jewish law. Written in Hebrew and divided into 14 volumes, it is a fixture of Jewish houses of study and other educational institutions.

Schiff is not the only Jewish elected official who in recent years chose to be sworn into office on volumes that reflect why they got into politics. Pennsylvania Gov. Josh Shapiro, a Democrat, in 2023 was sworn in on a stack of three Hebrew Bibles, including the one that was on the bimah when a gunman massacred 11 Jewish worshipers in a Pittsburgh synagogue in 2018.

Georgia Sen. Jon Ossoff, a Democrat, in 2021 was sworn in on a book of Hebrew scripture once owned by an Atlanta rabbi whose synagogue building was bombed by white supremacists in 1958.

[eddiesxangel]

Your Touch is my Scripture | Emperor Geta

Cw: ancient times (not 100% historically accurate pls don’t come for me) canon adjacent, darker themes, slavery, angst, smut, fluff, f!concubine!reader, reader is referred to as whore, oral, unprotected p in v (it’s like 211 AD duh)

5.5k words

The sun was bright, high in the sky, telling you it was about mid-day. Your robes were expensive, worth more than anything you have ever worn in the past. But you were at the Palace now. No longer would you need to endure tattered, rough, earth-coloured cloth. Now you get to enjoy the riches of luxurious silks of reds and purples and fine linens etched in gold embroidery.

A gold headpiece was pinned to your hair, curled and oiled for you. You got to be bathed in luxurious perfumes. Your face was pained and your lips reddened, your eyes lined with the dark kajal eyeliner you would not have recognized yourself if you had access to a mirror.

Yesterday, you were all but a present girl selling yourself on the street. How you fell into this situation was beyond your comprehension.

While you were scrounging for food, you spotted the royal carriage but paid no mind. That was until a guard came up to you and instructed you to come with him.

You were terrified, had they been here to arrest you? To sentence you for being a street rat?

You were looking around confused but see that from the carriage the emperors were gazing at you- Caracalla with a smug look on his face and Geta with a look of hunger.

You shiver at the memory, the way his deep brown eyes held your attention, his controlled gaze only broke once the carriage started moving once again.

You were instructed that you’ve been summoned by the Emperor, they didn’t specify which one but you had a hunch as that haunting look in his eyes never swayed.

You were brought to a council room, where many men of status, including the Emperors, sat in a semi-circle… what for, you didn’t know… but you would soon find out.

You waited until the Emperors were finished their conversation and you were led to them by the same soldier who plucked you off the street yesterday.

“Do not speak unless spoken to” he had instructed you a few moments ago…

“Ah yes, I’ve been waiting for you.” Geta couldn’t help but look you up and down.

To him, you had been perfect. He stopped the carriage immediately upon the very sight of you. He needed to have you, whore or not he would make you his.

When your eyes met, your breath hitched, stuck in your throat. He was beautiful, alluring, and yet- terrifying. You could feel the automatic pull to be near him, do whatever he wished. That is what you were here for, to be his newest toy.

You felt like you didn't have much of a choice when it was explained to you why you had been summoned to the place.

“You will serve his majesty however he pleases. You will have a roof over your head and food in your belly.” The soldier explained.

You hadn’t been whoring for long, but anything would be better than going hungry in the streets. You longed for food, your hunger took over any rational thinking and you agreed without taking more time to think about what you signed up for.

You had been shown the servant quarters, that’s where you met the other girls. There were five of them in the room when you entered, all equally beautiful. How you fell into this group was a mystery.

“Your Majesties” you curtsy, bowing your head. You’re very aware of the little coverage, the white sheer fabric, draped across your chest, leaving little to the imagination.

You’re the only woman in the room that you can see and the men were very aware of your presence, but you were for the Emperors alone.

“Even her voice is like honey” Caracalla muses.

“Yes, brother, a marvel, isn’t she?” Geta’s eyes sparkled as he examined you.

“What do we call you?”

“Whatever would please you, your Majesty.” You knew that was the correct answer when a knowing smirk spread across Caracalla’s face. A shriek of a laugh fills the room and others join to appease the rulers. Their power was clear. They commanded the room.

“Come, sit”

You were led to a throne and your eyes grew wide, no way he could expect you to sit there.

You look to Emperor Geta and he sits down and pats his thigh, beckoning you to sit down. With a sigh of relief but still a bit of unease seeing as though you just met him, you turn to place your bottom on his thigh.

The day was filled with excitement as two gladiators had been the source of entertainment. The shock and awe of the fight had Geta grabbing at you at each brutal hit. The way his fingers dug into your soft skin, how his grip tightened on your thigh had you squirming on the inside. Your calm and cool demeanour was all an act. He pulled you in closer; you draped your arm around his shoulder as you became more comfortable. His touch had been electric, his hand ran up your thigh if he went any higher, he would feel your arousal, praying it hadn't already seeped through your linens.

“Remarkable!” Geta praised the young warrior. His enthusiasm was contagious, as was his eccentric brothers. It was electrifying to be near that kind of energy for once. This new world was overwhelming but you liked being close to Geta.

After his conversation, he turns back to you. “Come,” he says with a smile, guiding you up the winding staircase to what you assume to be his quarters.

Once entered, he can no longer contain himself; he finds himself reaching his hands to your hips, pulling you in. He meant to offer you wine, but he couldn’t resist. You smelled of lilies and berries; he needed to taste you.

His kiss was rough but needy. He tasted of wine; you could have gotten drunk off of his tongue alone.

His hands slid down to your ass, and he gripped and massaged it, making you moan, forgetting this wasn't supposed to be about you.

“You’re going to be my good little pet aren’t you.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“Get on your knees,” He pinched your bottom. “But first, discard your robes.”

The look in his red-rimmed eyes was sinister, as you obeyed the look deepened. Nothing could keep you from disobeying him, his command over you was all too powerful. This monster of a man was your commander, your Lord, and your life source.

“Perfect, utterly perfect.” He praised you as you knelt for him like a god.

His cock was hard already, and you hadn’t even touched him yet. You could feel through his robes he was thick, probably the biggest you have yet in encounter. His robes were discarded, and before you stood the most powerful man in the world, who ruled and owned so much land it was too much to comprehend.

He was greedy, so greedy and all you wanted was to give him everything.

You lean in and kiss the tip of his leaking cock.

“Yes, worship me” he grips your hair tightly.

You take more of him in your mouth and swallow down your gag. More and more you fit him down your throat until you can’t breathe.

A low curse leaves the Emperor’s mouth as you pull back.

“You’re a dirty little whore aren’t you”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?” He scolds.

“Yes, my Lord”

“Better. Now get on the bed”

He smacks your ass as you pass him and it makes you squeak out a giggle.

The sound of your laugh startles Geta, it makes his heart flutter and he isn’t sure what to make of it. He shoves the feeling down, deep down. Ignoring it.

“How do you want me, my Lord?” You stand before him, in front of the lush bed.

“Worship me” he looks down upon your naked body, nothing about him in this moment was human. It was all pure primal need that flowed through his veins.

“Lay down for me, my Lord.” You smirk and he listens.

You crawl over him, your hands roaming his alabaster skin as you glide your slick core over his reddened hard cock. Over and over you glide on him until you decide to let him slide into you with ease. You were right. Your pussy has never been stretched out this much. Luckily the hours of teasing was enough to have him stretch you out with little pain.

Geta loved the way your jaw went slack when he stretched you out. His face said it all as you looks down at him. A smile spreads across both of your faces when you start to move.

“Fuck, yes” he sighs.

Never had a woman made him feel this good this early on. He’d been inside of you a whole of 10 seconds and he’s already ready to blow his load.

“Sorceress” he curses you, accuses, you. Your cunt was otherworldly- magical.

You could feel the familiar tension building, forgotten was your duty to the man beneath you.

“I’m going to cum” you whisper under your breath as your hips rock on His Majesty.

It almost slipped past the Emperor’s attention, but you say it once more, only a little bit louder this time, as your pussy clenched.

“Stop!” Geta demands. However, you’re too lost in the feeling that you don’t hear the command.

“Stop at once!” The emperor pushes you off of him. He doesn’t understand what you just did, he’s never had that feeling while in a woman. It scared him, he was bewitched by you. You were a temptress, an enchantress, a Cantatrix.

“Your majesty, did I do something wrong?” You were more terrified than confused. The other girls had warned you about his moods.

“Get out!” The veins in his neck bulged out, his face reddened with rage.

You don’t argue, you don’t say another word. You pick your garment off the floor, put it on and silently walk towards the door trying to hold your head high.

“And send in Fauna instead” he spat.

You turn around quickly, not wanting to the the hurt slip from your eyes. You don’t look at him.

“Yes, my Lord.” You curtsy with your head down. Shame filled you and you tried not to sob as you ran down the empty halls.

Once you reached your quarters you shook Fauna awake and begrudgingly told her she was up. She looked at you confused but quickly patted down her long thick black curls and made her way to him.

You didn’t understand where or what went wrong. You thought you had a connection, chemistry. Your mind was clouded, he had felt so good beneath you, and you couldn’t understand why he pushed you off. He hadn’t said anything- he was enjoying himself, you were enjoying yourself. So where had you gone wrong?

Weeks passed and Geta hadn’t sent for you, nor Caracalla. You were getting worried you’d be kicked out into the street. Why house and feed a whore when she’s of no use to you? You had little to no money. All you had left was the gold ring that belonged to your father, and you were not about to give that up if you got kicked out into the streets.

Your name being called startled you, and you were lost in thought, braiding Aurelia’s hair. You stand up immediately.

“Ouch!” You hear her and giggle a sorry before one of the emperor’s guards escorts you.

Thrill filled your veins at first, but then dread quickly followed. Worry and anxiety seeped through your veins as you made your way down the corridors.

The walk down the torch-lit hallway is quiet, only the echoes of your barefoot steps can be heard bouncing off the walls.

The guard pounds on the door three times you flinch at how loud it is.

A muffled “Enter” is said aloud, you look to the guard he gives you a taut nod before he turns to get into position for the evening.

With a quick sigh, you hesitantly open the door.

“Disrobe.” He didn’t bother to look at you.

He was standing in the corner of the bed chamber by his wall of scrolls. Floor-to-ceiling rows upon rows of papyrus filled with stories you could only imagine. What you would give to be taught how to read?

Clearly what is written is more interesting to him than to you. You try not to feel offended as his eyes don’t stray from the page. You need to show him you’re worth keeping. That you are worth wanting.

You cannot help yourself but want to please him. You will get past this silly little obsession you’ve created, and get over how much you want him to notice you. You’re a whore. Nothing more will ever come from this.

You obey his instructions, and your body shivers as the cool breeze of the midnight air kisses your skin. Your nipples can’t help but perk, but you’re not sure if that is due to the sudden loss of warmth or the way His Majesty is looking at you. Those eyes, his deep cinnamon eyes gaze into you like he is the lion and you are his prey.

“Come here, Sorceress.”

Your heart races and you slowly step towards the Emperor.

“You seem nervous” his voice is calm, yet assertive.

“I don’t want to fail you this time, my Lord” You bow your head and your long wavy hair falls with it, covering most of your body,

“What you said last time” he clears his throat, “you are wrong.”

“Apologies, my Lord, I know not which you are addressing?” You look back up.

“Women do not orgasm. They cannot, it is not in their nature. Where you heard of these lies is unbeknownst to me. You were giving the wrong information.” He said matter of factly.

Your stomach swirled as his eyes didn’t break contact with yours. That is why you were thrown out like a piece of trash? Why for weeks you’ve been trying to see what it was you did?! Because you said you were going to cum?

You didn’t know what to do. Your internal battle was clear on your face as you debated if picking this battle was worth it. You could show him a new world or he could kick you out immediately, once again.

“Spit it out then.”

“I-I am sorry, my Lord. It will not happen again. My intent was not to deceive you.” You lower your hard once more like a scolded puppy, knowing that the one perk of this gig will never be fulfilled.

“Good girl, now get on the bed.”

The night went as you expected. You were brought to your knees at first, then you were upon his lap, just like last time. Only this time you kept your mouth shut.

It was hard, so hard to not cum for this man. How could he not understand women also could orgasm? Had none of the other girls? And if not, why has none of the other girls shown him? You don’t understand, but you will not bring it up. You want to be good for him. You need to stay here in the palace.

Your eyes burned with tears as you tried to get him off before you accidentally did. You had to before you cried out in pleasure…the pleasure you so desperately want for him to know that he is giving to you- that he will not let you have. You want to cry out how he is the one who makes you feel this good. How it is his cock that hit all of the right places. You fight the urge to play with yourself as you ride your Emperor.

“Come for me, my Lord.” You test the waters.

This seems to be okay, he smiles at you for the first time since the first day you met.

His beautiful face relaxed as he released himself within you, pinning you to him as the euphoria washes over his whole body. You’re dismissed immediately after, as expected.

Day and night, he calls for you, and only you. All hours, most hours you are with him. Weeks passed, and the other girls were becoming snippy with you, to which you didn’t know why- it’s not like they would be getting off with him as they did with each other. They all served Caracalla between them. They got a break; they got to share.

However, it was you and him, alone for hours. You don’t know how you would feel if he didn’t ask for you. Hurt and jealous, most likely. You were bonded to him. Wanting to please him but not being able to please yourself or what you wanted, for him to please you, it was torture, night after night, going to him. Pleasing him and knowing your silly feelings would never be reciprocated. He showed no compassion, he would fuck you either in your cunt or your ass. Depending on his mood sometimes both, yet, you can’t shake this desire you feel when you think about him. When you’re accompanying him in the day when you lay with him at night. Some days, he would have you in his bed for hours before he got up and went to work, others he would have your draped around him while holding council.

You were consumed, borderline obsessed, but how could you not be when he was your only source of company?

As expected, you had been summoned after supper. When you arrived, you sensed that something was different.

Geta didn’t say a word as you greeted him-he didn’t command you to strip, but you know the routine so you disrobe and approach his Majesty.

His back is turned to you but this doesn’t stop you from leaning up to kiss his neck. To touch him, to praise him.

"How will you have me tonight my Lord?"

His stiff body didn’t move, he didn’t make a sound until you made your way to face him and you gasped. Pulling away you could see the look on his face was pure anger. This is what the girls had warned you about all those months ago.

“I must apologize.”

That was not what you had expected. You didn’t say a word as you let him explain.

“I was having a chat with Macrinus, and he informed me that you were right all along. But I still don’t believe you…or him.”

“My lord, I do not follow?” You whisper, scared he will lash out.

“Come.”

You take a step towards him, not wanting to upset him.

“No, I mean, cum for me.”

Your breath hitched, eyes going wide. This was not what you had expected.

“My, Lord.” you gasp.

“Show me, teach me.” His voice became gentle, you would say almost venerable if you hadn’t known any better. “Please.”

“Y-yes, your Majesty.” You take his hand and lead him to the bed.

You lay down in front of him, and he leans down to kiss you. You have kissed him before but something about this time feels different, like the feeling is being reciprocated. His body slowly mimics the routine that you do to him night after night. His makes his way down your neck, you’re scared to make a noise for him. But the feeling of his plump lips has you slithering out of your skin to react.

“Is it not good?” He pops up, genuinely concerned.

“Yes my Lord, it’s very good” you reassured him.

“But- but you’re not reacting.”

“I didn’t think-“

“No!” He bellowed but realized his mistake when you flinched away from him.

“Please do,” he said much softer…like he wanted to do a good job for you.

You silently nod your head and he continues from where he left off.

His lips glide over your burning skin, a soft moan leaves your lips and you feel him smile like he’s won.

Sex for Geta is always about him, that is how it should be. That was how it was taught to him. ‘The man’s pleasure is how life is created,’ he remembers his father telling him. Nothing was ever mentioned about how the woman was to feel during it. So night after night, years of silent fucking and only thinking about himself, this new territory was exciting.

When you moaned it set off something in Geta’s head, he wanted more. Needed more.

He brought his mouth to your perked nipple, and you arched yourself into his touch. The feeling of his tongue rolling around your sensitive bud sent waves through your body down to your dripping core.

The smallest of touches from him made your head spin as you had hardly gotten them in the past. Having the Emperor touch you like this had you reeling for his touch.

A long drawn-out moan left your lips as his teeth scrapped at your perked breast.

“Oh, you like that, huh?” He murmured into your hot skin.

“Yes. Very much” you sigh.

“Good…now-um- what should I do?” His venerability, slipping.

“Touch me” you take his hand to your clit. ��Here”

“My god, you’re soaked.”

“Yes”

“Just form that little-?”

“Please” you begged. No more questions, you needed him to pleasure you.

You move his fingers on your clit in circular motions until he gets the tempo. Your hips are moving with his hands, telling him he’s doing a good job.

“Does that feel good?”

“Yes- now add a finger or two, inside”

Geta slipped his fingers inside but didn’t stop circling your sensitive clit.

You were so close, he could sense it, he felt your walls contract against his fingers like they did the first time you two fucked, but this time he didn’t pull away.

“I can feel you, Sorceress.”

“I’m so close, don’t stop, you’re perfect”

Geta’s heart fluttered at your praises, only this time he doesn’t swallow down the feeling.

“I will never stop pleasing you, that’s all I want, is to please you.”

How could this be? He is the emperor, you are nothing, a concubine who’s tricked this being into falling for you. He tricked you along the way as well.

“Geta” you let slip, and he doesn’t even reprimand you because in that moment is the most beautiful sight beneath him.

His hands were like magic, how dare he be holding this back from you this whole time.

Your orgasm rippled through you. Weeks of denied pleasure bursting from your womb making your body shake and your throat cry out.

Nothing has ever felt so good.

A soft giggle passes as you come down from your high and Geta gazes at you in shock and wonder.

“My little entrance. Cantatrix” he leans down to observe your pussy. It was wetter than he thought possible and the smell, he was addicted. He can’t help himself but bury his nose in you for more. He lets his eyes roll back with a grotesque moan. He needs to taste you.

“Yes, I’m yours. Only yours.”

You both knew what that meant. The countless nights of sex, the endless glances when he holds council, the silent communication, the hours he kept you in his chambers. The way he hates to be away from you, how he needs you by his side through the day even if he knows he can’t have you he wants you.

You both know that he can’t bring himself to ask for another girl.

It’s all understood by your words and that terrifies him, but the urge to please you is so much greater than his fear.

“I must have you” he kisses your pussy deep and passionately. His tongue explored your sopping cunt, the taste of you will be burned onto his tongue.

You can’t help but roll your hips into Geta’s tongue. Grinding on his face, your hands run through is hair, tuggin the roots. A soft moan leaves your lips and Geta can’t get enough of you.

“Take me” you plead.

Deeper he pushes his tongue into your cunt he can taste your cum coat his tongue. How he had been so wrong for so long. Not knowing the taste of a woman pleasure could be so addicting.

You can’t help pulling his face into your core. His nose brushes your clit over and over as you ride his face.

“Take me, take me” you release your grip and he pulls away. Your slick covers his lips and chin, but he leaves it so your sent is coated on him, his sinister smile shines towards you.

He grabs his thick cock and aligns with you. Never had Geta gone with long without being touch before sex, he had to hold himself back from plunging into you. He knows his size, and he doesn’t want to hurt you.

You open your legs wider so he can ease his way into you. Geta watches as his cock ploughs into you. Over and over you chant his name like a prayer. He watches you breast bounce with each thrust, and now he thinks he’s discovered his new favourite position with you. Out of all the months you’ve spent tangled up together, never have you been on your back for him. Why? He is not sure because his cock is burred so deep.

He doesn’t break eye contact as he thrusts himself into you. The weight of his body on top of your makes you feel that much more connected.

“Tell me, Cantatrix, who you belong to?”

“You, my Lord, only you.”

His hips worked into your cunt with such intention, needing to feel your pussy cum onto him.

Nobody had ever made you feel like this, and nobody else ever would.

“Come for me again!” Geta begs, his voice is so desperate and needy, as he thrusts into you. Your hands are planted on his ass guiding his hips into you as your bodies roll into each other as one. He was your saving grace, your lover, and the unspoken little bit more.

You can’t help but moan with your head thrown back arching your breasts into him. The sweet sounds coming from his lips are what you silently plead for. You feel every finger he places on you. His hands planted themselves upon your hips. Moving your body so effortlessly that he can’t help but beg. He needs to feel you come for him. To know that he’s the only one who can make you feel so much euphoria that he never knew existed before. You were the woman that broke the curse for him, the woman that he rescued in the streets, his collection, his prize. You owe everything to him, and he will take what is his. You are his.

“Cum for me, I demand it. As your Lord, your Emperor. Cum” he grits through his teeth, holding back his pleasure.

Your body can’t take the build-up any longer, you listen to him, and you release all that’s within you. Your second orgasm is just as strong as the first one. His words and his commands are what pushed you over the edge. You will give him everything he wants of you.

The feeling of your cunt squeezing his cock like a vice has Geta cuming seconds after you. Never had he thought a pussy could feel more pleasurable, more perfect than yours in that moment.

Geta and you both had been so worn out of the night’s events he didn’t ask you to leave, he offered you some wine and with a bright smile on your face you accepted. You got up to stand, but you were greatly surprised when he insisted he be the one to serve you.

You talked for hours after, about your childhood, how your father was a soldier in the conquest of the empire, and how he had been killed 3 years prior. Your mother tried her best but she fell ill a year ago and it took her quickly thereafter. You had been selling yourself since then.

Geta told you about his life as well. He spoke to you as if you’ve been friends for years. It was as if the veil had fallen between you. No longer was he this intimidating mountain of a man. He was Geta, a young man who has the world at his fingertips, and the responsibility you wouldn’t wish upon anyone.

You fall asleep in the wee hours of the night wrapped around one another, you never slept better.

You woke before him, you didn’t want to ruin the magic of what last night brought so you snuck out and back to your quarters before he awoke.

Geta was disappointed when he saw you were not sleeping next to him, but he was too busy with the day’s events at the Colosseum to dwell on it any longer. He must get ready.

It was pretty early in the day, the games were supposed to run late, so you had time for yourself for a little while. The girls were still giving you a cold shoulder so you kept to yourself.

Your name is called, “You’re being summoned.”

You know better than to ask questions. You collect yourself and walk the corridors with the guard. You know the route by heart however your stomach turns when you try a left instead of a right.

“May I ask who has called upon me?”

“The Emperor.”

A sigh of relief exists in your lungs. Maybe he is in another room you’ve not been privy to.

The guard leaves you at the door when you knock to enter.

“Come in” The voice was not who you were expecting.

Your eyes widen only for a slight second with shock before you collect yourself.

“Your Majesty” you bow your head to Caracalla.

“My my, you are truly magnificent. No wonder my brother has been hogging you.” He smiled.

“I am flattered, your Majesty.” Your voice shaky.

“Shall we” he motions to the bed and you try and fake your way through this while your stomach is in knots.

“May I ask you one thing before we begin?”

“Of course” he nods his head.

“Why are you back so soon? I imagined the games would still be going on at this time?”

“There was an incident with roge arrows”

“I hope everyone is all right.”

“Not to fret, now I get to spend more time with you.”

“Quite right, your Majesty.” You agree.

And so you began.

Geta was in his room when he heard a knock on the door. He was waiting for the guard to bring you. He needed to blow off some steam from the assassination attempt on him and his brother today.

“Apologies, your Majesty, she was not there.” The soldier regretfully informed.

“What do you mean she was not there? Where is she?”

“With Emperor Caracalla, my Lord.” The guard regretting to be the one to inform his Highness.

“Like hell she is!” Geta bellowed.

The Emperor pushed past his loyal guard and stormed through the corridors of the palace.

You were draped over Caracalla’s lap, bouncing on his cock when the doors swung open with a bang and scared you half to death.

“Get off of him at once!”

You froze, not knowing what to do. The two brothers had equal power over you, so who did you obey?

“Brother!” Geta bellowed out.

“My my brother, what is the matter, I am only enjoying what has yet to be promised to me.” Caracalla sits up into his elbows

“She is mine.” Geta physically pics you up off of his brother and tosses you to the side so hard you can’t find your footing.

“Brother, what has gotten into you? You act as if she is your betrothed.”

“I- I …” Geta had no answer as to why you made him act the way you did. Only that he feels everything for you but is not sure how to control these feelings deep within.

“I think I understand bother… but you and I both know that can never happen.”

“You speak of buffoonery.”

“But is it? Otherwise, why would you interrupt us the first time she is taken from you?” Caracalla was no fool, and he knew his brother better than anyone else. “I will not touch her again if that is what you desire, brother.”

“It is,” Geta growled.

“Very well, I shall call upon Julietta instead.” He shrugged.

Geta turned to you finally, and you hoped he would take you to his chambers.

“Come.” He was curt, and you followed silently.

He was still seething by the time you reached his quarters, but it wasn’t until you were in utter privacy he began his scolding.

“How dare you lie with him!”

“My, Lord-“

“That’s right! I am your Lord. I am your master and you will only serve me!” His face redden.

“Yes, my Lord.”

“Is that all you have to say for yourself?”

“What is it you wish for me to profess, my Lord?”

“You left me this morning. You didn’t even leave a note.”

“I couldn’t,” you said shamefully.

“Oh right, you’re just some uneducated present girl I plucked off the streets.” he scoffs.

“You’re right!” you scream, and Geta is taken aback. Never have you spoken to him with such power. “That is what I am! I don’t know what more you want from me?! I have given you everything! All of the parts of me! My wounds, my pain, my suffering, my love, my affection, my ass, my womb!” You cradle the small bump.

How had he not seen? Hint noticed? Had he not understood you have been with him every night and not been through your courses yet? You’ve been here for months, and not once have you bled.

Geta looks down to where your hands are pressed against your stomach and back up into your eyes.

“Is it true?” Instantly his demeanour flipped. It only takes him three large strides to face you to place his hand atop yours.

“My cycle has yet to come since I have been here.”

You watched as Geta did the math in his head until a look of shock then glee spread across his face.

“How far along?” he cradles you in his arms.

“Three or four months,” you suspect.

“Remarkable” he whispers. “utterly remarkable.” He takes you into a lustful kiss. “Now you are a part of me forever.”

“Is that what you desire?” You fight back the tears.

“It is, my Cantatrix. I have yet to find the words, but you are my light in this dark heart of mine.”

“Geta…” you test the waters.

“Only once I have heard you sing my name, and it is more beautiful than the last” He picks you up and carries you to the bed.

“I…”

“Tell me.” His brows furrow with worry.

“I think I love you.” You peer up at him through your lashes.

Your heart feels like it's going to burst from your chest it is beating so fast that it must not be good for the baby.

You’re a fool to admit such emotions. You want to take it back; you must take it back your thoughts are cut off when Geta’s lips meet yours.

He might not be able to say it out loud. However, this kiss tells you everything. You’re his everything.

If things were different, he knows he would make you his Empress, he yearns to have you rule by his side, but you can give him the next best thing.

A child. His first child, whom he will cherish and adore, even if they will be of the lower class, he does not care.

“Tell me you are mine,” Geta hums into your skin, his hands groping at every inch of you.

“I am yours, my Lord.”

“Geta” He sighs into the kiss. “I am your, Geta.”

“My, Geta?”

“Yes, Cantatrix, your Geta.”

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@oneforthemunny @allthingsjoeq @jamdoughnutmagician @bunnyhargrove @rebelfell @sexmetaleddie

[iheartmira]

Hellooo!! Could you do poly smc, fem!reader, and pv all together ?

soo reader is a very famous singer and has good visuals (basically like a kpop singer lol)

and reader has photo cards and LOTS of people buy them including smc and maybe pv so that they could see reader’s very pretty face

and well obviously reader’s relationship with smc and pv is private because yes

Could you also write their reaction to reader getting shipped with a another famous male singer LMAO

I think that’s it lol I really don’t know what to say anymore 😭

/ps I love the way you write smc sm <3

"spotlight" - shadow milk x idol!reader x pure vanilla

✧ ✧ ✧

you knew the cameras loved you.

the stage lights hit just right when you turned your face. your smile had been called "lethal" on fan forums. your vocals trended every other week. you had been sculpted into a star by talent and timing, and cookies across earthbread couldn’t get enough.

they bought your albums, screamed your name at concerts, and snatched up every photocard drop like their lives depended on it.

even the ones who should’ve known better.

in a theater drenched in velvet shadow and soft laughter, shadow milk cookie twirled one of your photocards between his fingers. this one showed you mid-performance, eyes closed, lips parted, the light catching on your cheekbones like stardust. he sighed, dramatically.

"truly… a divine tragedy," he murmured, tracing your jawline with a finger. "how can one cookie be so beautiful?"

"you’re hoarding merch again," a voice said behind him, gentle but uncharacteristically deadpan.

shadow milk cookie turned slowly. "jealousy does not suit you, vanilly."

pure vanilla cookie held up a matching photocard. the same one, in fact. except his was in a crystal-clear sleeve, carefully preserved. not a fingerprint on it.

shadow milk cookie raised an eyebrow. "oh, how pure. do you kiss it goodnight?"

pure vanilla didn’t answer. but he did smile. a little too sweet.

and none of them, not the screaming fans, not the press, not the cookie kingdom elite, knew that both of them were in love with you.

privately. desperately. silently.

well. mostly silently.

you lay sprawled across the greenroom couch, a silk robe hanging loosely around your shoulders, your makeup wiped away but your stage glow still lingering. shadow milk cookie lounged nearby, flipping through a magazine with your face on the cover. pure vanilla sat in a nearby chair, quietly sipping a beverage brewed exactly how you liked it. he always made extra.

"are you seriously still fighting over who has more photocards?" you asked, raising a brow.

shadow milk cookie held up a holographic card like it was sacred scripture. "signed. with eyeliner smudged from tears. this is peak artistry."

pure vanilla just looked at you, then at the drink. "i prefer… the real thing."

you rolled your eyes and grabbed a pillow to scream into. not because of stress, but because your boyfriends were embarrassing.

yes. boyfriends. plural. secret, of course. the world couldn’t know the radiant songbird they adored spent their nights tangled between a legendary saint and a theatrical villain. it would shatter hearts. cause riots. probably end in someone printing body pillows.

still. you liked it this way. loved them both in their own way.

shadow milk cookie kissed you like it was a game you both pretended he wasn’t winning. pure vanilla cookie held you like you were something he prayed for. with them, you could be yourself. not a vision. not a fantasy. just… you.

until the internet exploded.

“earthbread's idol spotted backstage with dazzling cookie! romance in the air?” “the duet that set earthbread ablaze: chemistry or something more?” “are we witnessing the birth of a power couple???” you stared at your phone. blinked. then groaned.

dazzling cookie was sweet, talented, and kind. he was also very much not your type. but fans had latched onto the on-stage chemistry from your recent duet like hungry leeches.

the ship name had trended in under an hour.

you looked up. shadow milk cookie was reclined against your dressing table with pure vanilla cookie behind him, holding your phone upside down like it personally offended him. his smile was sharp. "so this is betrayal."

"i'm dating you two. it's not even real," you said, rubbing your temples.

"oh, but the fan edits are!" he snapped, flipping the phone. "look! someone made an animation of you two kissing!"

you sighed and walked between them, stealing your phone back. "if you turn this into a jealousy contest, i'll start selling a photocard of me holding hands with him."

pure vanilla looked calm. too calm. "you’re not… really considering that, are you?"

you smirked. "depends. will you two behave?"

they were quiet.

and then, shadow milk cookie grinned, sliding up behind you. "i suppose i'll forgive him. after all, he’s not the one who gets to hold you."

pure vanilla touched your hand gently. "and he doesn’t know how you like your favorite drink after you sing."

you let out a breath, caught between amused and endeared. and when you walked out to take your next spotlight, they stood just behind the wings, invisible to the crowd, hearts fully yours, even if the world didn’t know it.

yet.

✧ ✧ ✧

‹𝟹 ‎ ⠀⠀ˑ˚₊ ·⠀interested in requesting? check out my pinned!

© 2025, iheartmira

[wonderjanga]

Theories About Marvel

The Justice League and many others have theories as to what Marvel is.

Theorist: “What if Captain Marvel is Kryptonian?”

Theorist 2: “Bro what? Dude, he’s had Kryptonite thrown at him and he doesn’t flinch at all.”

Theorist: “No, but hear me out! What if he’s a higher level, or at least a different type of Kryptonian? Who’s to say they don’t come with different powers and weaknesses? Superman and Supergirl are cousins, right? What if all the lasers and cold breath are exclusive to them and them alone? What if Marvel is Kryptonian, and its just that his powers include lightning instead?”

Theorist 2: “That’s actually insane dude! But it also kinda makes sense. Actually wait, let me add on. He could be weak to Kryptonite, but not as much as Superman and Supergirl. Some Kryptonians could be more sensitive to it than others!”

Clark actually got asked about this.

Supes: “What…? No? Marvel’s not Kryptonian. Kryptonians don’t just have mix and match powers. We all have the laser vision and super strength and X-ray vision.”

People still believe this theory even if it was proven wrong by Supes. Though, it’s mostly civilians. Key word: mostly.

Then there’s the magic users theories:

Constantine: “I always thought the bloke was a golem that looked like a human. That Wizard guy he talks about could’ve made him.”

Zatanna: “Really? I always thought he was a lightning elemental.”

Zatara: “He’s the Champion of Magic. It’s more likely he’s made of pure magic…”

Constantine is the closest in Billy’s nonprofessional professional opinion. There’s also Batman’s and Martian Manhunter’s theories.

Batman: “I believe he’s an immortal shapeshifter. There are multiple mentions of him in scriptures, architecture, pottery, and artifacts.”

MM: “I too believe it’s likely. Some of the texts and artworks depict him as women. It’s also likely he changed physical characteristics as well. The nose on this statue is different than described in this scripture.”

Then there’s Diana, Donna, and Cassie.

WW: “I thought it was obvious he was a demigod?”

Donna: “Yes, isn’t he one of Zeus’ children? He’s our brother!”

Cassie: “He’s a really good brother too!”