#{ you seem very interested in my opinions. } — [ Asks ]

[comatosebunny09]

— cw: adult content, cheating, shitty fiancé, self-indulgent madness, mdni — notes: i can’t sleep, and @alfredosaws got the gears turning in my head. sorry if this isn’t your jam. i was horny and needed to torture myself. — now playing: see through - amelia moore

Imagine Sylus as your real estate agent, showing you and your fiancé around a potential home.

Your fiancé doesn’t seem too interested, busy typing away on his phone or occasionally stepping out to answer phone calls. You titter nervously, explaining to Sylus with a wry smile that your fiancé is a very busy man.

Still, Sylus continues showing you the rest of the house, pointing out parts that would appeal primarily to you.

“You see here? The master bedroom contains an en-suite bathroom with enough counter space to house all your skincare products. ”

“The bathtub has jets. Perfect for when you want to unwind after a long day on your feet. You look like you shoulder the world. You deserve to take a load off with a warm, soothing bath.”

“The sunroom would be great for your plants. You look like you have quite a green thumb. You strike me as a cultivator. A nurturer. Someone who should learn to sit down from time to time.”

“The counter space in the kitchen is immaculate. Perfect for when the love of your life wants to cook breakfast or have you for dessert.”

He’s so very flattering and handsome, and you find yourself falling prey to his charms. You rein yourself in when your fiancé returns, still as detached about the house as ever. You ask him for his opinion, to which he shrugs you off and remarks that he’s happy if you’re happy. Conveniently, his phone rings again, and he walks outside to take the call.

Sylus gives you a pitying look as if he knows there’s trouble in paradise. You smile awkwardly to dispel his worries.

Sure, your fiancé isn’t always present in your relationship. And maybe you agreed to his proposal out of fear, thinking you would lose out on your white picket fence if you refused him. But, who are you kidding? You haven’t felt like yourself in years. Haven’t genuinely smiled in a very long time, and your fiancé hasn’t helped improve your self-esteem, nitpicking when you’re a little bloated or leave the house without makeup.

You’ve recently caught him entertaining other women on his socials, and he would quickly gaslight you, exclaiming that you were looking for reasons to be upset. Deep down, you know he isn’t good for you, and you deserve better, but a sick part of you believes he is your punishment for some crimes you might’ve committed in a past life.

Sylus has read you like a book, and you’ve only worked with him for two months. You feel more comfortable in his presence than the man you’re about to marry, having known him much longer.

“Come with me, sweetheart,” says Sylus, his voice a sweet, sticky dolce as he takes your hand into his larger one.

He guides you up the spiraling staircase towards the main bedroom and lures you into the massive walk-in closet. And when you’re swathed in the darkness after he shuts the door behind you, he backs you up against a wall, your breaths intermingling whilst his mouth hovers over yours.

“You poor thing,” he whispers next to your ear, the hairs scattered across your body standing on end, pleasant tingles ricocheting through your extremities. He takes your hand in his, pressing it against the cool, textured wall overhead, tenderly twining your fingers together. “That Narcissist doesn’t deserve you, now does he?” His lips graze yours, the sensation making your legs tremble like a fawn.

“I can see it in your eyes.” A weighted palm smooths over your side, a devastatingly powerful knee sliding between the fat of your thighs, pilfering the breath from your lungs. He touches you with a reverence you’ve never known. “You don’t love him, do you? Not when I can touch you like this.”

He takes possession of your jaw, breathing hot and open-mouthed against your lips, nuzzling your noses together. And you’re dizzy, the closet suddenly feeling so cramped, and the warmth of his body permeating through the layers of your clothes. “You’re so beautiful. You deserve so much more. I can give you so much more. May I kiss you, sweetling?”

Despite the voice screaming somewhere far off in your mind that this is very much wrong, you find yourself nodding sluggishly in the darkness as if he can see you slowly turning to putty in his palms. He chuckles, the vibrations of it making your tummy flutter like you’re cresting down a hill.

Wordlessly, he pans in, startling you with a gentle kiss at first. Something deft and ghostly, so soft you wouldn’t believe it happened. When you make a gentle keen of protest after he pulls way, he takes that as his cue to kiss you again, this time more firm and full-bodied, the rigid pane of his body slowly anchoring you to the wall. 

Your unoccupied hand slides over his spine, concluding its excursion at the small of his back, and he’s strong here. Sturdy as if he could lift you one-handed if he so pleases. The idea makes you whimper, and he swallows the pretty little noises he invokes, his sweltering tongue pushing into your mouth to map out every ridge and crevice. 

He slips a warm, weighted palm into the crook of your knee, drawing your thigh up to rest on his hip. And, with this new angle, he presses fully against you, the stitching of his slacks scraping pleasantly over the inner cut of your thigh. He releases your hand once moored to the wall to hoist you into his arms, one of your heels clattering to the floor. Ten shaky fingers bury themselves in his hair, sifting through tufts of soft white to draw him ever closer to deepen your lip-lock. 

Despite the spacious closet, it’s growing uncomfortably warm. Too many clothes are in the way, so you tug his shirt from his slacks. Your fingers blindly scramble over his shirt buttons, eager to feel the smooth, supple glide of his skin beneath them. He chuckles something throaty and enrapturing, kissing you velvet-soft as his desire awakens to press against your thigh.

“So eager, aren’t you?” he husks, breaking away from your lips with a sticky click to blister your jaw and carotid with languorous kisses. “Has he ever touched you like this? Kissed you like this?” 

You crane your head back, your skull lightly thudding against the wall behind you. Your lashes shutter. The feeling of his mouth dragging over your skin and his weighted body nestled between your thighs is too much and yet not enough. You cling to his back, your grip white-knuckled, mouth parted slightly with wanton pleas for more more more.

But before he can grant your request, your fiancé’s voice beckons to you through the empty, sturdy walls of the house. The spell that befell you disperses, reality careening in. You push against Sylus’ lean chest with the heel of your palm, panting and gasping, squirming to be let down. Sylus reluctantly heeds you, gently setting you onto your feet. 

He helps you slide back into your discarded heel, kissing your ankle on his way back up, and you try to ignore how your body burns like an inferno at the attention. It takes all of you not to snatch him towards you once more, to kiss him and demand he take you, right then and there, with your fiancé calling for you downstairs. But, as much as it pains you, you feel remorse for how far you already let things go. 

Fixing your clothes and hair to some semblance of neatness in the darkness, the pair of you exit the closet. You don a rehearsed smile, answering your fiancé that you’ll be right down. Searing, slender fingers encircle your wrist before you can descend the stairs. You acknowledge Sylus with a look over your shoulder. He fixes you with a feverish stare that burns like a flame, revealing a deep desire for you. And the realization shoots straight to your center as his mouth draws into an unflinching line. 

Something in your chest pinches and pulls. And for a moment, you consider what your life would be like if you’d given yourself more credit and granted yourself a little more grace. But you brush away your thoughts, fixing Sylus with an unconvincing smile before pulling away from him to descend the stairs into the arms of your loving, soon-to-be husband.  

[superkooku]

Just saw this reblog and I'd like to clarify stuff about my opinions (respectfully of course).

I don't ask anyone casually liking Greek mythology to read every single poem or play and source. Even I myself didn't do that yet. I understand that modern media is more accessible and this style of prose can get tedious (but I still love the stories and content ofc). The plays are easier to read.

Again, I like Epic, I like Disney's Hercules, I like Hades. Are they perfectly accurate? Nope. But I still enjoyed them. So of course adapting mythology and changing stuff around isn't inherently wrong or anything. There still needs to be care, effort and respect for the original source and the new story.

The concept of making character-driven stories out of myths is also a very good idea. Expanding on the lore is also an awesome concept. Going off the rails and making a completely new world inspired by familiar themes is also neat. I like all of those directions.

BUT my problem comes when people confuse modernized versions with ancient legends and the found their judgment of these figures on adaptations. That's what I meant with misinformation. When people mix headcannons with what actual sources state (I almost always find the ancient version more nuanced than most modern takes on mythology, like the ones I listed in my original reblog).

Or when the changes are so big that the main story is unrecognizable, the core themes are absent, the story is taken out of it's culture.

And when some adaptations replace the interesting themes of the original story to put cliche YA tropes instead because "it sells more", now I'm complaining.

These adaptations, even those I don't like, have the right to exist. People have the right to like them. But I also have the right to criticize the aspects that don't fit my personal standard and expecting more in-depth work.

Again, simple fun stuff is cool but if someone wants to apply a deep moral theme or feminism, then I want it to be done correctly and respectfully.

I agree with you on certain points, like letting people enjoy adaptations as a starting point, the beautiful aspect of retelling known stories to not let them die, different versions being as legitimate (though the ancient sources ≠ modern media and we need to make that clear).

Also yeah, if these adaptations didn't use the names of the myths, then I would only criticize them for their own worth and not for the research.

Since that subject seems to piss you off a bit, I hope I didn't come off as too condescending. I'm just some goober on the net expressing my opinion and my want to represent mythology more accurately. But yeah, interpretation isn't evil.

Have a good day.

Greek mythology has evolved over the course of hundreds of years, and with all those… retellings now, it’s gotten me thinking about just how many people have been spreading false details of myths through word of mouth to the point of becoming the most common interpretation, when if you were to look back in history, a great number of them were only recently made up, barely a a few centuries prior. Example of this is King Midas and his turning his daughter into a gold statue. I remember this part having been included all throughout my childhood, only to find out it was never part of the original myth but a recent addition in a book from 1852. (suddenly, the daughter being aptly named “Marigold” makes a lot more sense.) My ask is: which commonly told misconception of this type regarding any Greek myth is most infuriating to you and why?

oh my god misinformation can be INFURIATING smh

Let's start off with the Apollo misinformation.

"He raped Persephone/is a serial rapist!"

First of all, no he did not. LO, toss yourself into an eternal blaze and incinerate.

and secondly- he's not a serial rapist. There's only two accounts of rape, specifically Dryope and Creusa, but that depends on interpretation and the source so if you want to discard it, you can. No one can tell you you can't.

"UwU Apollo's love life is terrible!"

do i even need to say anything?

"Athena hates women!"

hell to the fuck no. the evidence people use for this is the Medusa Myth: Ovid's Version, and CONVIENTLY IGNORE THE ONES WHERE SHE HELPS WOMEN ESCAPE BEING RAPED!! AND THAT OVID IS THE ONLY ONE WHO DOES THIS!!

Even with the ones where she punishes the victim, the older versions do not have that! She made Nicymene her eternal owl companion, for heaven's sake!

"Hermes/Dionysus/Hephaestus is the only unproblematic god! UwU"

uh... *waves Leuconoe/Choine/Philonis around* no matter which version you go with, Hermes/Mercury does rape her...

...and in the Dionysica Dionysus rapes like two women...

...and Hephaestus tried to rape Athena... (oh wow, would you look at that...it's like Athena would have *gasp* sympathy for assault survivors...)

...See the double standards? :/ Ignores Roman/late Greek literature when it's convenient, and then exaggerates it to suit their own needs.

"Demeter is a terrible mom!"

GET OUT OF MY HOUSE NO ONE DISRESPECTS THE QUEEN

"Hades only kidnapped Persephone because Zeus told him too!"

Hades is his own man and wasn't being held at gunpoint to abduct her. He did so on his own merits. From a literal perspective, what was stopping him from just. you know. talking to her. kidnapping was not necessary.

(yes, yes, i know about the symbolic perspective, hence my use of 'literal'.)

"But Hades and Persephone are the only ones who don't cheat!!"

uh, nope. Hi Adonis, Minthe, how're you doing?

"But Adonis was more of a son to Persephone!!"

uh, NO. Even the ancients saw them as a couple!!

"Artemis is a girlboss who hates her brother!"

*kicks open door* OUT!

"Orion's the only man Artemis ever loved!"

how dare you disrespect my boy in this way Apollo was the first man she ever loved and no one will be able to replace him how dare you-

-and how dare you disrespect Hippolytus in this way he did not die in the name of all aroace people to be disrespected like this smh

"Zeus's only quality is how he fucks around!"

look, I've joked about this before but I know that's not all there is too him and that it has a symbolic representation.

Sure would be nice if people focused on that more :)

also anything that villainizes Aphrodite or Hera. god forbid women do anything.

"Clytemnestra is a girlboss who did no wrong!"

OH MY GOD THE DOUBLE STANDARDS.

funny how people fawn over Cassandra one moment and then COMPLETELY FORGET HER EXISTENCE to becry the woman who murdered her!

AND ALSO GO OUT OF THEIR WAY TO HATE APOLLO FOR CURSING HER WHEN THEIR STORY IS LITERAL ABOUT A WOMAN'S AUTONOMY BEING RESPECTED!!

AND GUESS WHAT!! APOLLO AVENGES HER DEATH!!

anything that is "UwU Achilles!" omg i am sick of it.

that bitch had everything coming. he deserved everything he got. Tenes, Troilus, and Hemithea did NOT deserve what he did to them! APOLLO AND PARIS HAD EVERY RIGHT TO TAKE HIM DOWN!

i'm probably forgetting some but here's the one that popped into my head :)

[4mph1r1t3]

HOLIDAY SEASON RP - LORE

Genre; Idk fluff??

Word Count; 351 

Previously; N/A

——————————————————

Contains (not a TW);

Aphrodite , Poseidon , Penelope , Caleb , Scylla

       • @notesbyaphrodite , @king-of-the-fish , @imnotaman , @frayna-of-the-hollow , @seamonsterscylla

Holiday Playlist by F/Amphi’s mod

       • SPOTIFY | YOUTUBE

Enjoy and have a happy holidays!!

" For Auld Lang Syne, my dear~ "

The melody floats in the air. Its’ joy fits the atmosphere. What IS the atmosphere you may ask? 

THE HOLIDAY SEASON!

A beautifully decorated tree with lights that shine brighter than Helios’ mighty rays. It’s almost like they’re celebrating the birthday of Dionysus. I mean- they MIGHT be. But I don’t think any of them would say yes. 

Around the tree and the hall for that matter are people. Gods and goddesses, creatures beyond man’s wildest imaginations, even mortal people! Everyone in Christmas regalia in some variant. Whether it be like Aphrodite and Amphitrite, sipping Ambrosia in very Christmas distinct outfits, or Poseidon in a …..interesting sea themed christmas sweater. Sorry. UGLY Christmas sweater. 

With the welcoming and happy environment, gifts collect under the ‘Christmas’ Olive tree. It’s a beautiful but rather silly event.

[Amphitrite is looking around at the sights and sounds of the new Christmas party. It truly is admirable. She puts her wine down on a table shakily, not wishing to spill it on her gown. Her almost dusty purple eyes scan the entire room.]

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐳𝐢𝐧𝐠! 𝐢 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐞’𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬!!

( this is amazing! I cannot believe we’re doing this!!)

[She says excitedly. Sitting back down, the goddess can’t seem to contain her excitement, almost like a golden retriever if it were a fish goddess.]

[With gentle touches she smoothes out her dress to try and contain herself. However someone else has some different opinions on the Christmas party.]

——————————————————

PLEASE NOTE; 

This is the LORE RP/OPEN RP. click the other for the other post. 

Because it says ‘different opinions DOES NOT MEAN a character firmly hates it

LORE RP is canon, OPEN RP is for other blogs to interact with!

LORE RP’s gift giving starts on Christmas Day/Boxing Day. Depends when everyone is free!

Happy Holidays from myself (fronzie), Lady Amphitrite, and Lady Hera!

[catgirlstalin]

Hi! I hope it's okay to ask this but would you happen to know any books on Stalin that don't repeat the same old stuff about him being a bloodthirsty dictator etc.? I wish to learn from more nuanced and anti-anticommunist sources since I'm learning about communism and ussr rn, and you seem to be someone who might know about these! Thanks if you're able to answer!

hii of course im happy to recommend stuff :3 mutuals feels free to add stuff as well

Another View of Stalin. Ludo Martens (1994) – one of my go to recommendations, it goes into the most commonly brought up issues such as collectivization, the great purge, and the molotov-ribbentrop pact

Stalin: History and Critique of a Black Legend. Dominico Losurdo (2008) – another go to; in addition to addressing historical facts and myths, this one also criticizes the concept of 'totalitarianism', and the resulting conflation of fascism with communism as equally bad (something that is still done to this day, see 'horseshoe theory')

those two i would say are the most prominent books specifically about him, and for good reason as they cover the most important myths about stalin

another author ive had recommended to me who has multiple books about stalin and the ussr is grover furr, but i havent read any of his works yet

also while this one isnt specifically about stalin as a person, i also wanna throw in The Soviets Expected it by Anna Louise Strong. It was published in 1942 and covers the years leading up to and including the second world war. its not really an analysis, as anna louise strong was not a historian, but a reporter who lived in the ussr at the time and she reported a lot on the living conditions and experiences of the people which provides a really interesting view into the 1930s and early 1940s in the ussr. its also a rather short and easy read

then theres of course also first hand accounts from people who knew him, like Molotov Remembers (done in a sort of interview style, the author is anti-stalin but molotovs accounts are interesting nonetheless), or Next to Stalin: Notes of a Bodyguard (also very short, not particularly well written but interesting and at times also entertaining)

also in my opinion one thing that also provides some insight into how stalin was and how he thought is just to read his own works. theres a whole collection on marxists.org

i find his interviews fairly interesting to get a bit of insight into his thinking, and theyre very short and easy to read

Interview with H.G. Wells Interview with Emil Ludwig Interview with Roy Howard

i hope some of this will be interesting to you!! have fun with your reading, theres a lot to learn and discover out there

[wastemee]

i think that i would die

jimmy grant (?) + fem reader

content warning . noncon/dubcon , toxic relationship , painal , barely legal reader

note: very unedited!!!! I’m lazy this is bad

When your eighteenth birthday has finally come , you had never been happier. You’re an adult (in the eyes of the law , at least)! Late night clubbing and cigarettes , here you come. Although you don’t have much friends , at least you have your trusty ID on you and your car (which is really your parents). College is definitely an option , your parents would provide you the money if you asked. But for now , you’re just working at some job that’s mundane and boring. The only reason you go is because your parents have connections , got you a job so you can buy all the stuff you could ever want. Given it’s in your paycheck budget.

Nothing or anybody interesting happened to catch your eye during your shift , until a few months ago. Your now boyfriend , Jimmy. He’s tall , handsome , and although he’s a bit dark , he’s yours. If your wish was to get an extremely morally gray boyfriend who definitely has personal issues , you won the lottery.

Your family doesn’t approve , but who would? He has very.. “controversial” opinions and strange comments on modern things that he claimed , “I didn’t have in my day”. His thoughts on feminism are bleh. Whenever you ask for him to elaborate , his response is always something like , “This word has gone to shit” or “Women think they have so much power”. He has very traditional beliefs about women , he still thinks that the only place women are needed is the kitchen and on their male partners dick. And honestly thinks you’re an idiot for still dating him.

Dating is a funny word to him. He wouldn’t consider your relationship ‘dating’ , he just likes you because you’re young , conventionally attractive , and a little bit naive. If he told you the roof said gullible on it , you’d look up because you trust him that much. Fresh meat. That’s what you are. You’re barely legal , what more is there to like?

He has you tag along with him to get togethers with his former coworkers , people he was working with in space! Amazing. He went from working in space to fucking and dumping girls from eighteen to twenty. When he first told you about his former job , you couldn’t believe him. He’s a sleaze , a sleazy astronaut.

Curly , his best friend , is chatting it up with him in his dirty apartment. Stubble frames his nice skin , lips curled up into a grin. He’s cute. But in a dog kind of way , not like a grown man. He has nice , blonde hair and his eyes are full of promise and kindness , unlike his best friend. Anya’s a young lady with sad looking eyes and a shaggy haircut , who for some reason , seems a bit uncomfortable with Jimmy. She doesn’t say much , Jimmy told you that. He also said she was extremely incompetent and utterly incapable of doing anything on the ship , but he says that about a lot of people. Then there’s Daisuke , who is just a ball of joy. Jimmy seems irritated by his painfully optimistic behavior whenever he interjects in conversation or talks.

Any idiot knows that if someone talks to you about another , then obviously they’ll talk about you as well. Unfortunately , you don’t. Nothing could’ve prepared you for all the things you found out Jimmy says about you when snooping through his phone , and his little friend doesn’t even say anything. Usually if someone were to call their girlfriend an idiot , or ‘meat’ , the average person would feel disturbed. But Curly shrugs it off with no reprimands for your boyfriend’s icky comments.

And of course , when Jimmy found out about your sneaky little habit , he was pissed for sure. A quick slap to your face , or shoving his dick down your throat when you definitely don’t want it , obviously does nothing for your behavior. Instead of forcing your head down on him , maybe fucking you so hard you feel like your guts will fall out could fix your behavioral issues.

He’s really pushing the limits of his flimsy bed frame with the way he thrusts into your ass , one hand on the headboard and the other gripping your already bruised hips. Pained moans slip out of your throat and into his hot room’s space , stubby nails scratching against the cheap wood. “Jim— Jimmy—“ you barely manage to gasp , tears pricking at your eyes and your stomach churning from both the pain and the unfamiliar feeling of him tearing into your body. He ignores your pleas , only pressing your face into the headboard harshly.

He groans under his breath , gritting his teeth and burying himself into you , chest pressed against your back like he’s trying to merge your sweaty bodies together. All he can think about is the way you clench around him and squirm like a wounded animal , and it’s the only thing keeping him going. The thought of molding you into what he wants and dumping you on the side of the street back at your house after he loses all interest in you makes his head spin and his dick hard.

“Please,” you whimper , pained tears rolling down your face and soaking into his dirty sheets. Your teary eyes squeeze shut , because if you look at him , you might just hurl all over yourself *and* the pillows. His hand moves from your hip and to your warm face , nails digging into your puffy cheeks and forcing your face to his. He doesn’t even need you to open your eyes and see his face when he’s fucking you like an animal , rough and hard.

“It’ll be over,” Jimmy mutters , hot breath making contact with your face and making your nose scrunch up instinctively. Cigarettes and booze , it sickens you. “ ‘cause you’ll shut up and take it , right? Let me cum in you without a word?” His words are harsh and teasing in a way. Teasing you because he knows you’ll never say no , teasing you because no matter what your friends and family say , you’ll let him do whatever he wishes.

Callously hands drift down to your tight throat , squeezing lightly. Not enough to kill you , but enough to make you feel light headed and sick to your stomach. Your hand overlaps his , urging him to take his rough hand from your windpipe. Listening to you is the last thing he’ll ever do.

All of this banging you against was practically foreplay , and his orgasm is the main event of his rape-y affection. He moans through his gritted teeth , hips meeting yours and spewing his seed into you , not bothering to pull out or check up on you with a simple , “You okay?”.

Just because you’re used to it , doesn’t mean you like. It definitely doesn’t mean that.

Jimmy’s hands slowly fall from your neck , lips pressed against your temple and his lips curled up into a cruel smirk. “Shit,” he murmurs into your ear , knocking against your head with his fist. “Think I’ve emptied you all of you’ve got. Don’t think there’s anything in here”. He chuckles , voice just as condescending as ever. You’re starting to think he’s right. Maybe there isn’t anything in your head , not anymore , you wouldn’t doubt it. From hopeful and optimistic , to drained all in the span of a few weeks.

You’ve made your bed , and now you must lie in it. For however long Jimmy deems fit.

[vonlycaonwife]

Wise, Billy, Ben, Anton, and Lycaon w/ shy and oblivious reader hcs

I decided to combine a couple of similar requests together into one because it seemed easier! Plus I thought this combo would be more interesting together then separated!

Warnings: none

Oh boy, if the teasing from Belle wasn't bad enough when he was sure it was just him crushing. Then it's way worse once Fairy enters the picture.

Fairy very much had to spell it out to him that they were crushing hard on him! He just thought they were socially awkward!

Now he has no idea what to do! He was fine! But now seeing the obvious signs makes him all shy and awkward too. Belle and Fairy are having a field day in the back.

Though once he's given himself a big enough pep talk, he doesn't really have any trouble trying to ask them for a date.

…at least he didn't think it would be that hard. But now he's dealing with a whole ‘nother issue! They're oblivious! Belle is cackling at his dilemma!

All I can say is good luck to him, he's gonna need it.

Nicole, Anby, and Nekomata are all screaming internally at these two! 

There's no hope for them, no matter how much they've tried to just outright tell either of then it doesn't work!

“Whaaaaat? Psh! No way! They don't have a crush on me.” Billy for the love of all that is holy THEY BLUSH ALL THE TIME YOU ARE NEAR!

“H-Huh?! M-Me? N-No way!” …my friend Billy has only let you hold his guns, he doesn't even let the other hares do that!

Even Wise and Belle have a hard time getting the both of them to understand their feelings are mutual, and they have a higher success rate!

Okay I can see Ben having a better time than the last two solely because he would be very genuine in his confession that even the most oblivious person wouldn't be able to misinterpret it.

But getting to that point is the hard part, as I can see him first thinking that the reason they're nervous around him is because they're scared of him. 

It would take a lot of convincing from the other Belobog employees to make him think otherwise.

And then the next challenge comes in, trying to find the best time to talk. Honestly this would be the biggest hurdle since he would be very busy working on the company's finances.

But once he has the time, he definitely takes this opportunity to tell them about how he feels!

Yeah…this is basically the same as Billy. The others are screaming at the double obliviousness. 

It doesn't help when Anton is constantly calling them his bro, which makes things worse. 

Belobog's only hope is to just stick these two into a closet and wait until they finally say something, even then there's a chance it just makes things even worse!

Honestly I'm praying for these two, and everyone trying to help them.

This man has a way better chance than everyone, since he wouldn't need to be told that they're crushing on him like the others. He probably already knew.

He knows he's handsome, so it wouldn't be hard to pinpoint exactly why they're so shy around him. If anything Rina would be able to confirm his suspicions easily if he needed a second opinion.

Though for him to go about confessing, that's where his troubles lie. Since while he would be making these romantic gestures, it would catch him off guard when they're misinterpreted as platonic.

Luckily he's usually able to bounce back quite easily, quickly explaining his intentions. King of communication here.

Honestly it would be hard for him not to be successful at confessing since he's very thorough in making sure his feelings are known.

[slaymitchabernathy]

Silent Night

Coriolanus strides through the halls with triumph. December came and went, taking all of those frivolous decorations with it. Good, he had thought when watching the Avoxes disassemble the Christmas tree, less clutter to fill the house with.

His wife hadn't exactly shared his enthusiasm for the dismissal of the holidays but her feelings weren't really that important to him.

She was here to make him happy and give him children, not give out her opinions on how he ran his household.

"We could start here," Quintus suggests, pointing at the library, "and then move into the ballroom for the photographs."

With a new year comes new photos that need to be taken, a rather annoying task to land on his desk but Coriolanus approaches it with the same diligence he does with anything else. Finding spots to take said photographs in the cold winter has proven to be more difficult though.

"Maybe," is all he says, his attention already drawn to a white ball of fluff running towards him. His lips curl upwards into what could possibly be a smile as his wife's kitten runs up to him.

Petunia, as Soarynn named her, is a little ball of energy, constantly meowing and running around. Coriolanus is glad that he's remained firm in keeping her out of their bedroom because he can't imagine trying to sleep with her constant noise. It's bad enough that she cries from outside their bedroom door.

It had clearly broken Soarynn's heart to hear her kitten crying. She had given Coriolanus her best pouting face the first night they had her before sweetly asking if Petunia could be let in. Coriolanus had grabbed her chin and sweetly told her that she could either sleep with him in their bed, or sleep on the floor with Petunia out in the hall.

Needless to say, Soarynn hasn't asked for Petunia to be let in since.

Soarynn is right behind her kitten, wearing the pink dress he picked out for her today. She's smiling as she chases after her kitten who comes to a stop in front of Coriolanus, batting at his shoe. He steps to the side, not wanting to become a victim of those small claws, "Petunia," Soarynn calls, "Petunia come back."

Petunia has a pink ribbon wrapped around her neck today, standing out from her white fur and she looks up at Coriolanus, letting out a meow. Coriolanus stares down at her, not entirely impressed by this behavior. To her credit, Soarynn has been training her but kittens seem to have a mind of their own, unfortunately.

"I taught her new tricks," Soarynn says breathlessly once she reaches them. Quintus raises an eyebrow, "Tricks? My dear, a cat cannot be taught tricks like a dog."

Coriolanus nods in agreement, dogs are hard enough to train but cats are stubborn with ideas of their own.

But Soarynn shakes her head with a determined look on her face, "No, no she does know tricks! Let me show you. Petunia, sit."

Petunia remains standing, very interested in the laces of his leather shoes.

Soarynn huffs, "Petunia, sit."

Petunia looks up at her owner, not at all willing to listen, and leans down on her front paws, stretching.

Quintus chuckles and Coriolanus shakes his head, "I swear she just did it," Soarynn mumbles, slouching in defeat, "she knows how to sit."

Petunia runs over to Soarynn and rolls onto her back, asking to be pet. Soarynn sighs and bends down, scooping up the small kitten, "Perhaps you should focus your time on teaching her how to use the litter box instead," Coriolanus reminds her, "and maybe get her to shut up when we're trying to sleep."

Soarynn frowns but she doesn't dare say anything against his suggestions, "We should go," Quintus says, "the war department still needs us to go over the new plans."

Coriolanus hums and reaches out to grab Soarynn's chin, something he loves to do to remind her of who's in charge, "Be good while I'm gone darling," he tells her, his words laced with threats if she doesn't behave.

Soarynn swallows, eyes blown wide in fear of any reprimands, "I will be," she whispers. Coriolanus chuckles and leans down to kiss her, enjoying how she stiffens from his touch. She hasn't acted out since he locked her in the greenhouse but he's been looking for the smallest mistake ever since. There's a sick part of him that enjoys punishing Soarynn, watching those crystal tears fall from her glassy eyes.

They go their separate ways but Coriolanus keeps thinking back to the ribbon tied around Petunia's neck, how simple yet enticing it looked, and how it would look wrapped around Soarynn's neck instead.

He'll have to work on that.

꧁ ꧂

"Open it, darling," he encourages, watching Soarynn sit on their bed, a pink box in front of her.

He got home about an hour ago, still left with things to do but he managed to secure her a gift during his time away from home.

Soarynn gives him a nervous smile as she lifts the lid up and he can see the confusion on her face when she sees what's inside of it.

A collar.

Red leather with a gold tag on it.

"This is, this is too big for Petunia," she softly tells him, her eyes filled with innocence while they look up at him. Coriolanus smiles at his sweet little wife, so dumb and clueless, "It's not for her," he explains, "read the tag."

Soarynn hesitantly reaches for the collar and reads the tag. Coriolanus drinks in the way her expression changes from curiosity to dread.

"What does it say?"

Soarynn opens her mouth to answer him but is at a loss for words is seems. Coriolanus reaches out and rests a hand on top of her head, "Tell me what it says, darling."

He can see her fighting back the tears of both humiliation and frustration, "It says, 'Property of Coriolanus Snow'," she whispers. Coriolanus nods, pleased she's able to read what's been engraved onto the tag, "And who is it for?"

Soarynn sniffles, a single tear rolls down her cheek, "It's for me."

Coriolanus smiles widely, ruffling her hair, "Good girl, it's for you. Let's put it on hmm? Make sure it fits you."

Soarynn remains frozen on the bed while he takes the collar from her hands, unbuckling it with ease, "Come sit at your vanity," he instructs, already walking towards Soarynn's vanity she often sits at to get ready for bed. He watches through the mirror as she slides off the bed, her head hung low in shame. She silently sits down on the vanity stool and Coriolanus gathers her hair in his hand, pulling it away from her face so he can slip the collar around her neck.

"Hold it there for me," he says. Soarynn finally looks at her reflection and she looks mortified. But she does as he says, holding the collar against her skin while his fingers deftly work on sliding the strap through the buckle, securing it through the correct notch.

Soarynn lets go of the collar and it sits perfectly on her dainty neck. The red looks great on her skin and the golden tag shines brightly. Coriolanus chuckles, slipping a finger under the leather, "Not too tight see? Perfect fit."

Her bottom lip trembles and she's so close to breaking he can taste it.

Coriolanus rests his hands on her shoulders, pushing down the straps of her nightgown, baring her breasts, "Look how pretty you look," he coos, "my good girl. Do you like it?"

Soarynn nods her head even though they both know that she hates it. She fucking hates it and she probably hates him too. That's okay though, he doesn't need her to love him.

Coriolanus perks up as if suddenly remembering something. "Oh, it completely slipped my mind, let me go get the leash."

That's all it takes to send Soarynn over the edge.

She breaks into tears, sobbing with the collar still around her throat. She folds her arms on the vanity's surface and rests her head on them, crying so loudly that he can hear every gasp, every sniffle, every sob.

She's humiliated and rightfully so.

It brings him great joy to see her like this.

He feigns a sympathetic tone, "Darling what's wrong? Do you not like the color?" He slides his hands down her bare back, ignoring how she flinches from his cold touch, attempting to bring her fake comfort.

Soarynn whimpers, still not lifting her head, "Let me go get the leash," he tells her, "you'll feel better once I get the leash."

Coriolanus walks into their closet, a shit-eating grin on his face. Soarynn has been good but something like this is exactly what she needs to remind her of her place.

He finds the red leash right where he left it and grabs it, wrapping the leather around his knuckles. He comes out and finds Soarynn struggling to breathe while she tries to take the collar off, red in the face, looking at her pitiful reflection.

"Oh darling, it stays on," he tells her, playing dumb, "it doesn't come off unless I want it to."

Soarynn frantically shakes her head, trying to undo what he's done but she can't see what she's doing through her tears and she's far too frantic to do anything right now but listen to him. Coriolanus sighs and walks back over to her, the leash dangling in his grip, her eyes immediately lock onto it and she whimpers, trying to move away but he grabs her before she gets the chance.

"Hold still," he orders, keeping one hand on the collar while the other clips the leash onto the ring that holds the golden tag, "there we go, much better."

Soarynn says nothing.

Her tears have dried and her eyes are red and bloodshot. She looks miserable, just as he likes her.

He tugs on the leash, jerking her head to the side, "On the floor darling," he says, pulling harder, "on your hands and knees for me."

He doesn't let her have any say in the matter, he just pulls so hard that she falls off the stool with a yelp, collapsing onto the floor. She lies there, not making any effort to give up with her pretty little face inches away from his shiny leather shoes her cat tried to play with earlier today.

A horrible, evil idea crosses his mind and he smirks, "I think your kitten scratched my shoes today, why don't you clean them for me?"

Soarynn pushes herself up with shaky hands and trembling breaths, staring down at his shoes, "Clean them," he repeats, pulling on the leash until she's almost choking. Soarynn looks up at him, unable to look anywhere else but into her husband's dark, brooding eyes, "Put that tongue of yours to use and clean them Soarynn."

He loosens his grip on her leash and Soarynn lowers her head, staring down at his shoes and she wipes her nose with the back of her hand, still sniffling.

Then, with shame and burning humiliation, she leans down to his shoes and he watches her little pink tongue lick the leather surface. It's an all too erotic sight to witness, Soarynn on her hands and knees, collared with a leash while licking the shoes he wore today.

It's even better when her nightgown rides up her hips, showing off her cute little ass with the pink lacy thong she wore tonight. He might need to get her a tail too, to match with her collar and leash.

He lets her lick both of his shoes for a few minutes, making sure that she's burning with shame by the time he decides that she's done. He pulls on the leash, lifting her face away from his shoes and he walks over to the armchair he likes to sit in when winding down for the night. It's by the fireplace and he often has a drink while reading a book to relax.

Soarynn has no choice but to follow him, literally on her hands and knees. He looks down at her and decides that if she had a tail, it would be between her legs right now. Her head is hung in shame and Coriolanus sits down with a groan. It's been a long, tiring day and this is just what he needed to unwind.

Soarynn comes to a stop right in front of him and she makes for a gorgeous picture. Coriolanus spreads his legs and tugs her closer, enjoying the gasp that leaves her lips. He keeps a tight grip on the leash, pulling her closer and closer until her face is right by his covered cock, already hard from watching her walk around like a fucking dog.

Soarynn finally looks up at him, he can see how angry she is, how humiliated and betrayed she is by his actions. He sighs and runs a hand over her head, "Oh darling, don't look at me like that," he tuts, "you always talk about being my good girl so I thought we could put that to the test."

Soarynn doesn't say anything but she doesn't need to, those stormy eyes of hers speak more than words.

She looks so glorious like this, on her knees for him, face stained with tears.

"Now I've had a long day," he says, reaching over to the table next to the chair where he always leaves his book, "so why don't you make yourself useful while I read, hmm?"

If looks could kill, he'd be a dead man.

But Soarynn knows better than to bite back, especially when he's displayed that he has no issue treating her like a fucking animal. He can always get his little bitch a muzzle if needed.

Coriolanus taps her nose, a less forgiving look in his eyes, "Put that mouth of yours to use before I leave you outside for the night," he threatens, smirking at how quickly Soarynn goes to unbutton his pants. He helps her by lifting his hips so that she can pull down his pants and boxers, letting his cock spring free. He doesn't let her give him blowjobs often but he has to with her looking like this.

"No hands," he instructs when she goes to stroke his length, "just keep it in your pretty mouth."

Soarynn swallows, Coriolanus had been blessed in length and girth and he's quite difficult to take in her small mouth but he wants to see her drooling over his cock by the time he's done reading.

So, ever so slowly, Soarynn takes him into her mouth until she literally can't fit any more of him in her mouth and throat. She gags for only a second before she somewhat relaxes, resting her head on his thigh.

Coriolanus opens his book to where he left off, keeping her leash tightly wrapped around his hand while he reads. It's the perfect way to end his night. He glances over the pages of his book every so often to see Soarynn in her dumbed-down state, mouth full of cock and eyes closed.

After this he'll fuck her, keeping the leash and collar on of course.

She'll think twice about talking back to him after this, and he'll make sure that she works on keeping Petunia quiet while they sleep or this will become a regular occurrence for them.

He'll do anything to guarantee a silent night.

| Part 2. | Final Part |

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

| taglist: @strawberriicakes @wonderlandbound111 @kickmybark @villiansarehottest @thevoicesinmyprettylittlehead @melodyoflovee @erensrealgf |

[triptychgrip]

Weighing in with a LONG reblog, because I feel very strongly about this and ask in good faith for folks to at least read to the very end before leaping to fire off any angry replies/blocking, etc.

I’ll start off by sharing this anonymous message (8 screenshots) that I sent to thegirlwhorideslikeasamurai a few months back, in response to a poll they had made inquiring as to why their followers continued to follow them.

As you can see, I used the term ‘off-putting’ to describe the tone of some of their posts, but I could have probably used less watered-down language. @arom-antix : I liked how you framed this particular sentence in your post, and want to focus on the latter part of it: “But when you claim to be an academic and also put down the rest of the fandom for not being on your level..."

It's that latter point -- putting down the rest of the fandom for not being on your level -- that I should have articulated better in my anon message, especially because @thegirlwhorideslikeasamurai : you have made MULTIPLE posts over the last year sharing frustrations that engagement on your meta posts/your content in general (like chapter reblogs for your novelization fanfic) has been lower than you’d like.

I would argue that your condescending tone and outward show of superiority could be a big reason for your drops in engagement. The latter is particularly irritating, because in your pinned post, you urge others to be kind, asserting that you have less confidence than Yuuri.

Speaking personally, I used to really look forward to reading your novelization fanfic -- anyone who looks at the comments section will see multiple examples where I've praised your writing and artistry. But your behavior on Tumblr is what led to my dropping your fic.

Before I go further, I’ll address what I think is the elephant in the room, at least from my own vantage point: I think we have ALL seen the advisory messages on Tumblr that say something to the effect of: "let's allow people to treat their blogs like a personal diary (i.e. as a place to vent with quick takes that are not perfectly worded/thought out) if they want to, and not act like everything has to be an expertly crafted, articulate encapsulation of their thoughts."

Now, I am fully on-board with extending that grace to people: how you use your own blog is your own business, and if you want to go on short or long rants about your opinions on fandom -- or anything else -- that's your prerogative.

However, you can’t have your cake and eat it, too, to use a cliche. thegirlwhorideslikeasamurai, if you are TRULY interested in understanding why your followers may not interact with your content in the ways you want — as opposed to crafting posts that paint yourself as a victim of ostracization, when you, yourself, have displayed very unwelcoming, divisive behavior — then you may need to consider this fact: your followers read everything.

Not just your most carefully crafted posts, but ALSO your personal rants. It might not seem fair for the latter to affect one's engagement levels with regards to the former, but this is just the reality of how things are on the internet/on this particular hellsite.

Getting back to my anon message, thegirlwhorideslikeasamurai replied to me shortly after, with an ask for clarification -- essentially, they said they were disturbed if this was how they were coming across and asked for more detail on why I had developed the impression that in order to engage with their content, that my engagement needed to meet the level of canon-compliance.

If I'd had the energy to craft a response (I won't go into the reasons for why I never ended up doing so, as it's a bit too personal), here's what I would have said:

1) Even if the fandom posts you think are most egregiously based on vibes/speculation claim to be canon-compliant, your bitterness towards their popularity comes across like entitlement. Especially, as 1) as I shared in my anon message, there may not be agreement on what canon compliance means, and 2) because a like or reblog on Tumblr doesn't even necessarily equate to: "I agree with EVERYTHING OP has laid out here, 100%".

In fact, I rarely think a like/reblog means that.

Sometimes, a like or reblog just means that someone finds an idea interesting and/or worth considering for their own content creation and/or just fun to ideate around.

2) of COURSE you are allowed to feel frustrated if your posts that you spend hours and hours working on don't do as well as you hope they will, and of course you are even allowed to post about those feelings, but if you go beyond "hey, this feels really shitty and I wish my numbers looked different" to "why is it that so many garbage takes that are devoid of any substance do so much better than my own?"...well, people will not be so gracious around the latter.

3) further, the same people who respect your work may start to feel like they can’t engage with you because, who knows? Maybe something they’ve contributed to fandom is the kind of content you seem to have such an issue with. I know I have definitely wondered about this, especially as I am currently working on a multi chapter fic that takes place during canon.

The very last thing I'll say is that I have been wanting to address the topic of acephobia allegations but have simply not had the energy to cobble together my thoughts exhaustively (yet).

All I'll say -- for now -- is that I myself am demisexual and can see a strong case to be made for why Yuuri is asexual (I write him as demi in my own fanfic and have even reblogged thegirlwhorideslikeasamurai's meta posts on the topic), however, I don't believe that this opinion makes it acceptable for me to label anyone as acephobic if they don't share it. Or, for me to claim that someone lacks media literacy if they don't share it.

I will save my full thoughts on this topic for a separate post (maybe? we'll see...it would take a long, long time to write, I think), but the one thing I'll say here is that I have seen the claim that people's headcanons around Yuuri's sexuality will inform the content that they want to read about. While of course I agree that this is true, I have seen this extend out to the following concern that I don't know holds water: that unless we all ascribe to the "Yuuri is ace" view, that content that touches upon it will get overlooked/be undervalued.

Frankly, I think this idea ascribes a rigidity to fanfic readers that simply isn't there.

I think we are all capable of reading and enjoying content that doesn't fit our own headcanons, even if these headcanons are "big" topics (and I do think Yuuri's sexuality is a big topic, simply because of how prominent a theme eros/the topic of sexual desirability is in canon. As a little teaser for the crux of my argument for why Yuuri could be both allo and ace, I'd posit that how sexually desirable someone finds themself (i.e. how capable they believe they are of seduction) is related to, but is ultimately distinct from their own capacity to experience sexual attraction).

Lastly, I want to make it clear that I think there is a place in the Yuri!!! on Ice fandom for EVERYONE, even people whose behavior I don't particularly love; the glimpse we get of each others' online personas is just a fraction of what comprises our personalities and interests, and I don't believe in the idea of shaming people to the point of "cancellation" (i.e. to the point where they think there is no future for them to keep contributing/sharing their love of fandom...especially in a fandom like Yuri!!! on Ice that has probably lost lots of people after IceAdo's cancellation!). This is particularly true if they are willing to be introspective around how they have acted.

Oh and lastly (for real this time), thank you both @arom-antix and @blonndiec for speaking so openly about this. I appreciate the courage it likely took to do so.

Hey, just wanted to reach out to say that I found you pointing out and calling this person was really great and you shouldn't have apologized. It was incredibly true what you said, and to be honest it seems out of touch with the reality of a great deal of the japanese fandom, the nuances and their culture. Also, it was as you pointed out, extreme and may I say rude. I want to mention too that the way it was written, as if entitled of the knowledge and the 'explanation' made it all worse in context of the 'fucked up'. The original poster always gets away by using the 'well-written academic'' statement of their 'metas' as an excuse to do or say and make everyone else agree and if not, uses victim narrative and discourses exactly selecting wording for people to agree on it or feel bad.

I don't know if they tagging you in the way they did made you reblog and apologizing/backing up, but no one thought bad about you pointing it out. On the contrary, a lot of people had been bullied and discriminated by this person when they called them out/disagreed going onto lenghts of sending their friends to harass people, and the other persons can't even defend themselves because they are effectively blocked. To quite a few people in the fandom has been done, even accusing them as 'acephobes' (when they're not) or even Nazis by spreading lies. So yeah, I just wanted to say that. I think you were right to call them out publicly.

Thank you very much for this ask. To be completely honest I agree with everything you said here and don't actually feel bad about pointing anything out. I mainly apologised because I didn't want any potentially poor phrasing from my side to cause unnecessary hostility and because I myself have gripes with this person's behaviour but didn't want to cause a scene.

My honest opinion is that they have a serious issue with taking accountability for their own mistakes and highly overestimate their own intellect. If you're reading this, @thegirlwhorideslikeasamurai, sorry if I seem harsh, but it's true. I saw your post lamenting how you're the only academic meta writer / fan in the fandom and I didn't interact then because I honestly do not care enough to start that drama but with the information Blonndiec has just given me, I think it's necessary that someone calls you out.

You're not an academic. You're not beyond the mental capabilities of other fans. You're actually incredibly childish in your metas and analyses and I am not kidding when I say that I was halfheartedly writing essays more academic than every analysis I've seen from you when I was barely a teenager. I don't know how old you are and I frankly don't care. You're not as clever as you think you are.

Also, don't think I didn't notice that you didn't reblog my correction (link here to my correction and here to their "response" for those who didn't see that exchange) of your post so that you could control what your followers saw of the exchange. You're the opposite of an academic. You control information to tailor the narrative, you don't cite your sources properly if at all, you don't format your posts in anything close to how an academic analysis would be, you make unbased claims, you reference posts and canon material without in any way indicating where that information is from, you reference your own (equally unacademic) metas and your conclusions from them without indicating what post it's from or that it's your own theory this new one is based on and instead present it as a common fact, and I could go on and on and on. Your posts are also riddled with logical fallacies and you talk in absolutes and opinions when there's no canon basis to claim such things. I'm sorry, but that's not academic in the slightest.

To be clear, you don't have to be an academic to post on the Internet. You don't have to be anything at all. You could up front be a genuine idiot with no remorse and that's fine. But when you claim to be an academic and also put down the rest of the fandom for not being on your level, you have to be able to back that up. It'd still make you sound like a prick but at least your arrogance would have a basis. It currently does not.

I haven't personally seen the discussions that Blonndiec is referencing and I'm not going to claim anything definitive (because that would be unacademic of me, take notes) but if what they're saying is true and did happen as described, which I have empirical, if anecdotal, evidence to believe could very well be (a friend of mine has personally been blocked by you after they criticised you without actually mentioning your name which I of course can't prove is the reason for the block but the timing is awfully convenient), you should know that you should be ashamed of yourself.

If there's context missing, feel free to enlighten me and call out any incorrect accusations. You have every right to defend yourself. However, I encourage you to cite your sources since you're such an academic. If you don't, then it's just your word against Blonndiec and anyone else who might comment's word and that doesn't prove anything. Don't misunderstand, acephobia and nazi rhetoric should absolutely be called out but only if it's actually happening. False accusations can ruin lives. I hope you know that.

I'm not a fan of calling people out publicly and, again, thank you for this ask, Blonndiec. But considering many of the issues I've personally seen and those I've been informed of by second hand sources were posted publically, I don't really feel bad about calling this out. I could do a full breakdown of just the insulting "academic" comments alone and how there's no academia to be found in said academic metas and, Samurai, if you give me reason to, I will show exactly what I mean point by point (and academically just to give you an example of even low level academia).

If you respond to this, do it in a reblog. That's what a real academic would do. If I'm wrong and you can prove it, you'd have no reason to not show my post in your rebuttal. If I'm right, you'd have every reason to be upfront about your mistakes and how you intend to rectify them. There's nothing wrong with being wrong but there's a lot wrong with refusing to admit to it in a way that lets others peer review you (academic thing, look it up) and come to their own conclusions about the situation. That's what you did when you just @'ed me instead of reblogging my response. A true academic wouldn't hide a peer review. You'd know that if you were one.

I swing in many academic spaces and yet that doesn't make me any kind of expert and I don't claim to be one because I'm not. But since you want to be one so badly, reblog this with a response and show us all how smart you are. I'm dying to know what your academic take on this is.

[the-casbah-way]

forgive the brief jesus chris superstar rant but. there is a very important difference between the pharisees being villains and the pharisees being antagonists. they're technically antagonists because they're actively working against the interests of our protagonist, but i don't believe they should ever be played as villains. they're not evil or bad or wrong. they're terrified just like literally everyone else in the show is, and their actions are completely justified. to me that's the entire point of the musical. it's not about christianity; it's about the impact the roman empire's brutal and violent imperialism had on everyone on all levels. including jesus and judas, but also including the pharisees, and even herod and pilate. when a powerful coloniser forces their presence on innocent people they are the only winners. everyone else suffers, even the puppet kings and high priests who look like they're reaping some sort of benefit from it all. that's roman propaganda. the romans kept native rulers like herod and caiaphas in power to maintain the illusion of provincial autonomy, and keep populations appeased and therefore under control. everyone in the show is acting out of fear of the romans. the one roman character we do see (pilate) is acting out of fear of his own emperor. it makes no sense to cast the pharisees as two dimensional Bad Guys, especially when the same productions that do that usually offer a sympathetic portrayal of pilate. it would be so easy to stage and direct a production in a way that makes it obvious that the pharisees are doing what they're doing because they truly have no choice, and not because they're pure evil and want to kill jesus for the sake of it. it's not only an antisemitic trope but also undermines a really important theme of the musical. if you can see the humanity in the violent roman governor installed forcefully on conquered land then you can afford some humanity for the pharisees too. they are victims of pilate and victims of rome just like everyone else

[avenger-hawk]

Hi, do you think Sasuke could have married Sakura out of guilt and as a sign of gratitude that she did not give up on him? Or does he really love her in a romantic way? I know that he cares about her in his own way,that she is dear to him, but is this romantic love?

Sasuke married Sak*ra because kishi wanted more money so he created the new generation that in order to be liked instantly by old fans had to be related to it and not new characters, that's why he created couples even if he initially wrote a shounen without romantic couples mostly, and this is the main reason they married, to create a new character for the new manga.

In universe Sasuke was tamed into submission and brainwashed, part of this was guilt tripping into believing everything he did was a crime to atone. Imo marrying sak*ra was a part of guilt tripping, not love and nothing romantic even if he did care about her as a friend in part 1.

my antiSS tag X

[altuspavus]

[ UNDERCOVER ] : while pretending to be a couple for the sake of a mission or other purpose, sender and receiver find themselves giving a Remarkably Convincing performance that leaves them questioning how platonic they really are. (oh boy this would be Interesting for Dori and Ari)

@triickst | meme here

Really, none of it makes very much sense to Dorian, no matter how many times it has been explained by multiple people with different points of view. Including half of their little... outing, he supposes it could be classed as. Truly, it begins to feel like a cruel little joke at Dorian's expense, what with everyone else simply seeming to 'get it' and refusing to explain in detail to him, perhaps because he's a Tevinter noble, he simply should understand by default, or perhaps because he's a Tevinter noble, he should not be trusted despite being an important member of the Inquisition, despite the fact that he knows full well that he's proven himself trustworthy already.

Or maybe it's all a sick joke, maybe someone has caught on to the fact that his glances at Aristide linger a bit longer than they strictly ought to, occur more frequently than a friend's should, maybe it's been noticed how he tends to stand closer to the Orlesian than to the others.

Whatever the reasoning, it leaves a sour taste in Dorian's mouth when he dares to linger upon the thoughts.

Instead, then, he focuses on the positives. They are in civilization proper, and though it is still the South, it's far kinder to Dorian's physical existence and happiness than Skyhold could ever hope to be. Another positive is that his company is, of course, precisely who he would like to be on his arm at any party, in that silly little dream world the man sometimes allows himself to indulge in.

And truly, they do make a rather dashing couple. Their features somehow complement one another's, between the two of them they have to have been the most complimented couple of the entire night, and Dorian would be lying if he didn't say that he's felt jealous glares upon the back of his neck more than once. It helps none of Dorian's annoying, complicated, distracting thoughts and feelings when they share a kiss initiated by Aristide, something likely done in order to better listen in on some conversation or something. It's easy enough for Dorian to justify, to stab a dagger into his own emotions with reason. Any feelings he's quarreling with are only amplified by the kiss, and if Dorian read into people's expressions more than he ought to, he'd almost be able to convince himself that Aristide felt similarly. Oh, the things the heart can convince the brain of.

Still, though, he knows this is all for a job of some sort, some information gathered perhaps. Frequently as Dorian must remind himself of that fact, his mind still repeatedly wanders. Wanders to how good Aritstide looks, how pleasing of a pair they make based upon the glances of reflections Dorian has managed to catch out of the corner of his eyes, how strangely right it feels to have Aristide on his arm despite the fact that the two of them were men, in respectable and noble company, openly appearing to be intimate. Appearing as such being all they were doing, and the thought again twists some sort of bramble wrapped about Dorian's chest.

A moment of quiet finds them slightly apart from the rest of the party, a moment during which they could gather their thoughts, though Dorian's only seem to grow messier as he tries to capture them. He squints into his glass of deep red wine, a tad too dry for his taste but better than he's had of late, he can't truly complain. Wouldn't complain to Aristide regardless, wouldn't bother him with something he's heard far too many times on Dorian's tongue before.

"Nice, isn't it?" The words tumble out of his mouth before he can catch the thought and swallow it down. The intention behind them: the two of them, together, the envy of many others that night, based upon comments, whispers, and glances. The interpretation behind the words, though, could be anything. They were vague enough.

The rational part of Dorian wishes to leave it vague, keep from breaking his own heart and potentially getting himself shunned, thrown from the Inquisition and back to the wolves of his home country. Unfortunately, it seems that the rational part of Dorian has abandoned him. "Having someone to attend these with, I mean. Someone on your arm who can look just as good as you do." A moment of panic bubbles up in Dorian's throat. "—No one else here suspects a thing."

[heart-democracy]

TDI Advice wanted!

Hi TD fans! I'm planning a rewrite of TDI, the cast will be 18 for in-universe reasons (think legal contracts, I'm not gonna be weird about them). I'm aiming to make it more realistic and in line with the 2007 aesthetic, i.e era appropriate lingo & references, mobile phones are rare, homophobia is a bigger concern etc, but I'm wondering how far I should take it?

In the end I'll write what I enjoy, but should I lean more heavily into the gritty side of reality TV both on and behind the screen, include more notable sexism, potential slurs and creepy behaviours etc? The point is for there to be believable drama in-universe and the topics planned all have some merit to be present. I have some hard lines I'll never cross (see last tags on the post for those curious) and I want people familiar with the themes to feel seen rather than exploited reading it.

At the end of the day the cast are just youngsters getting to know each other and themselves. I want to humanize them and write believable conflicts without demonizing anyone, it is intended as a character driven story after all. But I also want to know what others think would make for an enjoyable read/take on the show.

The cast will inevitably diverge from their canon counterparts, but I am unsure how to handle certain characters, an example being LeShawna. She's clearly based on a racist stereotype, but her personality, background and lingo are a huge part of her appeal and I'd rather portray her in a better light than change her from the ground up. If you have any pointers I can keep in mind for her or anyone else you think is often portrayed poorly in canon or fanon then please let me hear your takes! This goes for non-TDI castmates as well, even if they don't show up in the story I wanna know what people think does and doesn't work for them and their tropes/traits cause it might still be relevant!

[hxhhasmysoul]

even if gege was nonbinary as you clam he still didn’t care or develop the female characters in his stories 🤷🏻‍♀️ they all died or were sidelined and only maki got some development and that’s disproportional compared to the male characters. being lgbt does not make an author less likely to be misogynistic, that’s a stupid take.

i'm not saying gege is nonbinary, you completely missed the point of my previous answer. saying gege is nonbinary is gendering them. nonbinary is a type of gender that some people have, there are various types of that kind of gender. you clearly don't understand basic gender related issues, idk how am i even supposed to respond to you.

from what i've seen, and i'm in no way a queer or gender researcher, just a casual observer, there are people who have one of the 2 binary genders, there are various flavours of nonbinary genders, there are people who are gender fluid or have multiple genders (and yes i've also seen both the takes that these kinds of genders fall under the nonbinary umbrella and the takes that say they don't and i will not under any circumstance take a stance on that) and there are people who are agender who reject the whole idea of gender, they have their own individual takes on it.

and the whole point with gege akutami is that officially gege didn't subscribe to any gender. they don't disclose their gender and the respectful thing to do is not to gender them. especially not to gender them as an excuse to dehumanise them.

please don't misrepresent or define for me what my takes are, don't do it to anyone actually. it's rude, for one, like gendering people who specifically don't provide their gender. but it actually makes you look bad in a discussion, it significantly weakens your point and makes you look silly because you're arguing against made up things. but also it's an abuse tactic and i have a history of abuse and it's actually slightly triggering to me. this last thing is actually crucial why you shouldn't put words in other people's mouth, you don't know what they've been through and how much something like that may affect them. so doing that just to "win" an internet argument is really inappropriate.

i have never implied that being part of a minority makes one immune to bigotry towards a different minority, or even their own. it's actually something i've talked about angainst before in the context of a hxh harassment campaign a few years ago where people said that they can't be racist because they are some kind of queer, or a different kind of poc than the person they targeted.

it seems to me that you take the zerosum attitude to feminism which is a choice. i think it's a very performative internet leftist choice but you do you.

if you're actually interested in what i think about jjk female characters, and why i think jjk is actually doing some stuff right regarding feminism and why calling it and especially the author misogynist is in bad faith read this. it's long, it's not perfect and replies to very particular statements made by someone i'm actually friends with rn, but it's pretty exhaustive. it also applies feminism in a way that isn't as simplistic as trying to count percentages of female character whatever to male character whatever.

[freepassbound]

📷 What’s set as your phone’s lockscreen?

✏️ Have you ever written fanfiction?

🐰 What do you think says the most about a person?

📷 What’s set as your phone’s lockscreen?

It's just the default - I've never changed it. 🤷‍♂️

✏️ Have you ever written fanfiction?

I have not, actually.

🐰 What do you think says the most about a person?

These days, in most countries, probably their politics. There are some pretty obvious dividing lines where who a person supports speaks clearly to what they think of large numbers of their fellow humans.

[roanofarcc]

WORTH YOUR WHILE

pairing. Tyler Owens x fem!reader

summary. as the local weather woman, you shared an interesting rivalry with your hometown storm-chaser. while you always reported on the dangerous weather from a safe distance, tyler barreled into it head-first. but things change the night of the county fair when you find yourself in the middle of a storm rather than in the safely of a newsroom. 

warnings. dramatic fluff, hurt/comfort, description of tornados, a curse word or two, description of injury, slightly inaccurate meteorological info.

word count. 2.9k || masterlist

a/n. hopping on the glen powell bandwagon bc he and daisy absolutely killed it in twisters!! feel free to send me requests for tyler, kate, and javi!

“If you keep looking at him like that your face will get stuck in a scowl, which is really bad for television,” your friend said, leaning into your side. With a roll of your eyes, you managed to pull your attention away from the self-titled ‘tornado wrangler’ who had stirred up a fuss in the line for funnel cakes. People buzzed all around him as he signed shirts and took photos, never dropping his smile that you often dreamed about smacking right off of his face. 

You had grown up alongside Tyler Owens, never as friends but as friends of friends. After you both split off for school to study meteorology, you returned to your hometown for very different reasons. Tyler started in the business of storm chasing, live streaming his adventures to people all across the internet who sensationalized the dangerous weather, and you scored a job as your hometown’s Weather Woman. Your job was to warn people about the threat of tornados while his was to drive head-on into them. 

That was where you two drew your lines in the sand when it came to each other. He thought you were scared of taking risks while you thought his thrill-seeking was stupid and would eventually get him or one of his team members hurt. Those opinions on each other's job led to you two butting heads every time you encountered one another. His mere presence was enough to annoy you, especially at your favorite event of the summer, the fair. 

“Look who it is,” Tyler’s voice sounded near you and your friend nudged your arm in the direction of it. You looked away from her just as he approached you, tipping his hat and flashing his teeth in a smile. “Didn’t know they still let you out of the newsroom these days.” 

You crossed your arms over your chest, as the air of arrogance surrounding him nearly choked you out. “Don’t you have a tornado to chase?” you asked, wanting to end the conversation before it fully started. Unfortunately, he never seemed put off by your jabs, but he was assumed by them. 

“I took the night off,” he replied. “I wanted to see if there was anything worth my while here tonight.” 

You raised your brows. “Oh really?” He nodded, smiling brightly at you. “Find anything yet?” 

“Maybe,” he shrugged. “It’d be easier if she answered my phone calls.” 

Tyler disliked you a whole lot less than you disliked him. After you graduated and he started storm chasing, he tried at every given opportunity to get you to join his team. Even years later he still tried to, no matter how many times you told him the risk he was putting himself and his team in every time they barreled into a storm cell. He was relentless but you were happy where you were at. You wanted to help people when it came to severe weather, not make the storm look enticing for internet audiences. 

“I already told you, I’m not interested.” Storm chasing was a dangerous game that you had no intention of playing. Being from the Midwest, you had lived through your share of tornados. Chasing them was not in apart of your career path.

His smile faded slightly before he seemed to snap back to himself. “All I’m saying is, we could use a mind like yours out in the field.” The compliment was nice, you could admit that to yourself, but it wouldn’t win you over. He knew that too. “But suit yourself.” And with that he walked off, meeting up with the rest of his team that joined him at the fair that night. 

Your friend whistled lowly. “I don’t know how you do it,” she said. 

“Do what?” 

“Say no to a man like that.” You rolled your eyes once more as the line you were in moved. As she stepped forward to order, you threw a quick glance over your shoulder in the direction Tyler had walked off in. You saw him happily chatting with his team before glancing back at you for just a moment before you returned your gaze forward.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of colorful lights, sticky heat, and enough fried food to make your stomach ache in the best possible way. Your friend left after a couple hours of roaming the prize barns and laughing at the kids screaming their heads off on the carnival rides, but you stuck around for a little longer, relishing in the sweet nostalgia the fair brought you. 

Before you had taken a couple of well-deserved days of work, you and your team had predicted a storm front moving. Later that night was supposed to bring rainfall and a thunderstorm or two popping up around the county and neighboring areas. You thought you’d have plenty of time to roam the fair for a little longer until it hit, but you noticed the shift in the weather almost immediately. The sudden uptick in wind pricked the back of your neck as the distant rumble of thunder echoed above the fair chaos. 

It was difficult to predict everything, that you had learned early on in your career. It also was hard to predict how quickly weather could change from bad to deadly. One moment you’re gazing up through the lights into the night sky, trying to gauge the incoming storm, and the next, the sirens are blaring across the fairgrounds. 

The crowd of people running in every direction made the walkways hazardous. You were knocked into and jostled around as you tried to run toward the restrooms that doubled as storm shelters. They were clear at the opposite end of the walkway, but they were your closest option. You dodged and weaved through the swarms of people, trying to stay on your feet. 

You only made it halfway to the shelter when you were stopped by the awful cries of a little girl who sat under the counter of one of the carnival games. She hugged her knees to her chest and called out for her mom, but no one who rushed by stopped. You didn’t think twice before you sidestepped the fleeing crowd and crouched down in front of the little girl. The wind picked up significantly, blowing the cheap prizes right out of the booths and sending everything flying around and knocking into people. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” you raised your voice above the howl of wind and frantic people. 

“My mom!” she cried harder. “I lost her. I don’t know where she is!” 

You glanced back up at the sky. The lightning strikes illuminated the massive, dark mass moving in quickly. “Come with me, and I’ll help you find her, okay?” 

The noise all around grew louder, frightening the little girl, along with yourself, but as you outstretched your hand, she took it, and you quickly pulled her to her feet before you both took off running. The speakers urged everyone to seek shelter immediately, but you watched as people raced in the opposite direction of the shelters, probably bee-lining to cars in an awful call. They’d never out race it. 

“Charlotte!” Someone screamed and the little girl whipped her head around before she tugged hard on your hand. From behind you, the little girl’s mother appeared, immediately scooping up her daughter in her arms. “Oh my, God. Thank you!” she said, looking at you with teary eyes. 

“We have to take cover,” you told her, gently pushing her forward. “The shelter’s just up that way.” She thanked you again before she took off with her daughter in her arms. You wanted to follow, it was stupid not to when the wind gusts became more powerful, rattling everything dangerously and making it hard to think. But there were more people unsure of where to go and what to do. Groups of kids who had been dropped off for the evening stumbling frantically out of the rides and still dizzy. You stepped from the path and tried to direct people as best you could, shouting in tune with the speaker and the sirens for them to hurry into the shelter. 

It wasn’t until larger objects were plucked from the ground and tossed into the air like paper did you abandoned your aiding. The tornado screeched to life, ripping apart pieces of the show barns and rides with ease. You tried to close the distance between yourself and the shelter once more, but it wasn’t people in need that stopped you, it was a sheet of metal pried from the side of one of the food trucks. You tried to dodge the hurling objects, but the sheet came at you hard and fast. 

It sliced your shin, sending a wave of pain up through the rest of your leg. You stumbled, determined to stay upright, but the wind was too strong for your limping figure, and you toppled against the concrete, slamming your knees against the ground before you rolled over into the lousy shelter of a game’s tent somehow still standing. 

Panic started to set in as the storm raged around you, loud and monstrous. You covered your wound with your hands, unsure of where the blaring of the tornado ended and the fast-paced beat of your heart started, drumming in your ears and beating against your skull. You knew you couldn’t stay there, but leaving was just as dangerous as every attraction of the fair swirled around in the air. The cut from your leg painted your hands red and throbbed; it would only slow you down if you tried to run, creating even more of a risk. 

You didn’t know what to do. All of your life, the storms you had faced you’d always been lucky enough to find shelter in plenty of time, from the cellar in your backyard to your high school’s basement created just for such an occasion. 

Through the freight train sounding winds and your thundering heart, you heard a couple of voices that had to be close. Tearing your eyes away from the cut on your leg, you watched as another group of people sprinted down the walkway as someone yelled behind them to run. 

In all of your life, you’d never been so relieved to see Tyler Owens’s face standing just a few feet away; he hadn’t spotted you, and for a terrifying moment you thought he’d be unable to hear you yell out above the screaming storm. But somehow, he did. His head snapped in your direction, rain-coated and windblown, looking both out of sorts and in his element. 

“What the hell are you doing?” he yelled as he ran over to you, dodging flying debris that grew larger by the minute. The second he crouched down in front of you, his eyes flickered onto your legs, and the blood seeping out between your fingers as you tried to keep pressure on the wound. 

“I thought I’d just hang out here,” you said, your sarcasm watered down by the fear clear in your teary eyes.

His brows furrowed, deep in thought for a moment as he looked between you and the distance there was still to cross to the only close shelter. Without saying a word, he peeled off his wet flannel, leaving himself in a shirt that was already nearly soaked through as the sideways rain beat down against the both of you. “I’m gonna tie this around your leg and then we’re gonna run, okay?” 

You shook your head frantically. The ache in your legs was intense and you had already lost a good amount of blood, not enough to make you woozy but you were well on your way. It felt like your heart had crawled up your throat, making it hard to breathe as panic soaked you to the bone along with the rain. Everything around you seemed to be ripped from the ground, even the anchored tent you were under was seconds away from being picked up. 

“Hey,” he said, grabbing a hold of your shoulders, shaking you slightly. “It’ll be alright. You gotta trust me, though.” The sincerity shined in his eyes, bright as the rest of the power around you flickered wickedly. With a nod of your head, you dropped your hands from your leg and let him tie the flannel around your cut. As he pulled it tight, you cried out in pain. “I’m sorry,” he kept repeating until it was knotted. Quickly, he jumped to his feet and helped you up, looping an arm around your waist as you slung an arm around his shoulders. 

“Ready?” You didn’t get a chance to respond as the tent you were under was plucked from the ground, anchors and all, and flung backward into the tornado as it tore through the front entrance of the fairgrounds. Tyler took off, giving you no choice but to follow. 

You two stayed low, trying desperately to avoid the flying objects. With each step your leg burned, but Tyler’s hold on you was strong, not giving any room for you to lag behind or slip away. It felt like hours of running, but it was no more than a minute or two before you reached the shelter. The only major injury between the two of you was your leg, otherwise, you both collected a series of little cuts and bruises from your journey. 

Stumbling into the restroom, you were met with a hoard of scared fairgoers. You two managed to find a spot to slot yourself in with everyone else. He helped you lower yourself to the floor back in the corner just as the tornado was fully on top of you. You brought your knees up to your chest and covered your head. Tyler sat flushed against your side; you felt his hands rest over the top of yours as the building rattled violently. Squeezing your eyes shut, you refused to see the damage until the howl of wind subsided and people started to stir. 

Once it was over, everyone stumbled out of the shelter, getting jumbled together as police and ambulances rushed to the scene. Amongst people pushing and shoving to find their loved ones and get the hell home, you and Tyler were separated and before you could look for him, an EMT caught sight of your bloodied leg and ushered you to one of the ambulances. 

You sat on the back after the EMT stitched up your leg, looking over the torn-apart fairgrounds. Debris was littered everywhere, food trucks and carts overturned and some demolished, and rides were dislocated and strewn about in pieces. 

You clutched the bloodied flannel to your chest, shivering in the loss of adrenaline and temperature drop, and watched the sea of people until a familiar face popped into view, looking a little frantic as he stumbled through the crowd looking like he was in search of something. His eyes finally settled on you before he quickly pushed his way through the crowd until he reached you. 

“Hi,” you greeted, smiling tiredly. 

“I was looking for you everywhere,” he said, sounding slightly out of breath. “I looked away for a second and you were gone and-” You continued to smile, and he stopped himself. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?” 

“Nothing,” you replied quietly before clearing your throat. “I, um, I just wanted to thank you. And I’m sorry for ruining your flannel.” You gestured to the ruined piece of clothing resting in your lap. 

Tyler was quiet for a moment, looking at the large bandage around your shin. “Don’t mention it,” he said, brushing off your thanks like he hadn’t just pretty much saved your life. “What were you doing out there anyway?” 

You sighed, feeling a creep of embarrassment up your spine. You should’ve known better but at the moment you just wanted to help people and had little regard for your own safety, until your leg was sliced open, that was. “There were people still out there, trying to figure out where to go. I was trying to help.” 

“That was stupid,” he said. “But brave. Stupidly brave, maybe.” 

“Funny. I think I’ve said the same thing about you a time for two.” 

His signature smirk slowly fell onto his lips. “Not to my face.”

“Oh, no. Never.” 

Tyler laughed, gently patting your knee, lingering for a moment before he dropped his hand back at his side. Someone called out your name, and you spotted your friend running back through the crowd. She had called you as soon as you had made it to the ambulance and told you she’d come back to take you home. 

“You should get some rest,” he said. “I’ll see you around.” As he turned around to walk away, you called out to him. 

“Tyler, wait.” He paused. “You should try calling me again. Maybe I’ll answer this time.” Breaking out in a grin, he tipped his hat in another goodbye, leaving you with a new feeling stirring inside your chest. 

Bonus! 

Hours later, after you had cleaned yourself up, you were tucked into bed, reading by the lamp light knowing sleep was probably far off after the events of the night. You didn’t expect your phone to ring that late into the night, and when you glanced at it, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the caller ID, but that time it was something besides annoyance that you felt. 

You answered, discarding your book on your nightstand. “You don’t waste any time do you,” you teased. 

“What I can say,” Tyler said on the other line. “I know when I find something worth my while.” 

[httpsleclerc]

the story of us

pairing/s: Max Verstappen x Sister!Reader, Eventual Charles Leclerc x Single Mom!Verstappen!Reader

eries summary: after a traumatic childhood, y/n verstappen leaves an abusive relationship with a 6 month old baby in tow, with her brother trying to discreetly matchmake her with a certain Monegasque.

warnings: DEPICTIONS OF CHILD ABUSE, BABY TRAPPING, DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, ANGST!!

word count: 2.4k words

a/n: praying this shit does not flop I put my heart and soul into this one - also ! This one is mostly just backstory!

the first time you ever met Charles Leclerc, you were 9 years old, sporting a poorly hidden bruise under your eye which your so called father had given you for 'talking back' after he had yelled at you for Max losing. You didn't understand that, why was it your problem if Max lost - although he didn't really lose, as such, he came second or third, but in your dad's opinion? They were the first to lose. You had wandered off from your father, claiming that you needed to get yourself a drink of water, but you knew that Max had just came second, Charles had beaten him and you could already see how mad your dad was going to be, you'd seen his grip tightening on the barrier, his face growing more and more red as Max fell further and further behind the young Monegasque. 

"And Charles Leclerc of Monaco is our winner for today, congratulations Charles!"

Your heart ached at the announcement, as now it was confirmed what awaited you when you got home. You sighed, taking the last gulp of your water as you made your way back to the small podium area, seeing who you assumed to be Charles' family cheering him on after winning - You frowned at the very thought of a loving and functional family, you knew that your mother loved you, but she didn't by any means particularly like you, it didn't seem like anyone did, since you only apparently existed as your fathers punching bag and your mom was only interested in you when it was her weekend with you and Max. Spotting your father, you weaved your way through the crowd, your heartbeat increasing as you silently stood beside him, quietly praying that if you were quiet enough, he might not sense your presence and maybe, just maybe, you wouldn't be punished for your brother coming second.

Looking down at his father from the 2nd place spot on the small podium set-up, Max frowned as he looked at Jos and then to you - He was 13, yet somehow understood that this, him coming second, would somehow be your fault, and you would be the one to take the beating from Jos. It was cruel, but it was all you and Max had known, since your mother had taken only your older sister and not you - Max had guessed you had been getting punished since Jos assumed if Max had to watch you suffer the consequences of you losing, then it would make him perform better. In some way, maybe it did - But maybe it just scared Max that one day his father would take it too far, and instead of icing bruises under your eye, he would be calling the police.

From his spot on the podium, he flinched slightly as he saw your father harshly grab your wrist, dragging you through the crowd and away to the car - Max would know to hang back for a bit, he had seen Jos hit you enough to know that it would just end in him feeling such overwhelming guilt for not winning and therefore stopping anything from happening to you.

However

Jos' beatings of you had not gone unnoticed, as the young Monegasque winner of the day had made his way to his families car, his two brothers and parents already inside, he found you, sitting on the wet grass beside your fathers car, shivering and sobbing.

"Um...are you okay?" He asked you awkwardly, unsure of how to either help or console you. When you looked up at him, he immediately recognised you - You were Max's sister, it was obvious, since you two were sometimes mistaken for twins despite having a 4 year age gap. You sniffled and nodded - Which Charles knew to be a lie, the make up which attempted to cover a barely healed bruise under your eye had worn off, and a new bruise under your other eye, along with a cut on your cheek and a busted lip proved that you had taken yet another beating from your father. He frowned, he had only heard rumours that Jos Verstappen was...unhinged - But he had never thought them to be true in this way, despite being the same age as your brother, Charles knew that you were a defenceless child, and so was Max - Yet everyone was too fearful of Jos to help either of you.

"Charles, let's go!" He stammered, looking between you and his older brother, impatient to get home and out of the wet. You hadn't said a word to him, only silently begging him to please, tell someone, about what your father was doing to you and your brother - At this point, you would take living with your mom, even if it meant your existence was ignored, anything would be better than this.

"I have to go, but I hope to see you again soon," Charles offered you a genuine smile, waving back at you as he walked to his family car, shutting the door and staring off at you as they left the track.

You sighed sadly as you dropped your head between your knees once more - You knew that this was only a part of what awaited you when you got home, but some part of you hoped that he would make you walk home, so you could take as long as you liked, and maybe by the time you got home, he would forget about the brutality he had planned out for you as soon as you walked through the doors.

Like that ever happened.

13 Years Later

You had apparently never escaped your dad.

Put better, you had never escaped men like your dad.

Thanks to the way you had been raised and how you had been treated by the man who was supposed to show you how you should expect to be treated by a man, you had ended up with a string of awful boyfriends, who in the end, received a very verbal and intensive warning from your older brother. Most of them ran away with their tails between their legs at the mention of Max's name.

But one had stuck around longer than the others, going as far to get you pregnant with your daughter, Romy. Max had been convinced you were ready to leave him until he baby trapped you, he knew that would send you running back to him, with the hopes of having the happy family you never got to have yourself. He had been fine with you the entire time you were pregnant, even managing to almost convince Max that he had changed, and that he was ready to look after you and your daughter.

Lukas was different, you told Max. You told him that Lukas looked after you and your unborn child, especially after finding out that you were carrying a baby girl. You told Max that he doted on you, talking to your bump like Romy could hear him, which he argued that she could, since she kicked at the sound of his voice.

And for a while, Max was convinced that Lukas had changed, he had changed his mind on the idea that you had been baby trapped and that maybe it had purely been an unplanned pregnancy.

How wrong he was.

After the birth of Romy, everything went back to normal - You weren't allowed to talk to your brother, you could only go out when he let you, Victoria and Max weren't allowed to come and visit their niece, you weren't allowed to have your phone. It was around 6 months after having Romy when you realised that you had to leave, you couldn't bring your baby girl up like this, and have her turn out like you? Absolutely not.

You wanted your girl to have a chance in this world, you wanted to break the cycle.

So that's what you did.

During the night, while you had Romy settled after her feed and your boyfriend was asleep, you slipped out onto the balcony, your phone in your shaking hands as you dialled Max's number, praying that he would either be awake normally or on streaming.

"Hold on guys, I don't know who is calling...me," Max's joking demeanour dropped as he saw your face flash across the screen. He hadn't heard from you since you stopped returning his calls after you had Romy six months ago. Abruptly, Max ended his stream. "Y/N?"

"Max?" He could tell that you were close to tears, if not already crying. "I'm leaving name but I'm scared to because h-he's been drinking and I don't know if he wakes up i-if he'll hurt me or Romy. I don't care what he does to me, I just don't want him to hurt her." You cried to your brother, nervously peering into your bedroom through the curtains to make sure that the two of them were still asleep - If Romy so much as stirred, then it was game over.

Max was astounded.

Of course, he was going to help you, he was your big brother, how could he not? But you calling 6 months after you last spoke to tell him you were ready to leave, he could have cried in relief.

"Okay, do what you can quietly, I'll come over and make sure that you and Romy can get away safely," Max proposed to you, he knew this was a big, monumental step for you, you needed him to be there for you, now more than ever. "We've got a spare room here, I'll ask Kelly if she by some chance has even an old cot of P's that Romy can sleep in for the night." You sniffled and nodded, even though Max couldn't see the gesture.

"Thank you Maxie, I love you," Tears sprung to your older brother's eyes, he couldn't imagine how much you had been through, the fear of your boyfriend harming your baby must have been a constant forefront on your mind, you must have been exhausted.

"I love you too, I'll see you soon, okay?"

"Okay."

You hung up, sighing in relief as you realised that you had taken the hardest step of your life - Yes, you were leaving your abusive boyfriend, but you were also leaving your daughter's father. Moving as quietly as you could, you buckled your sleeping baby into her car seat - Thinking if Kelly didn't have anything; which would be fine; then you could have Romy sleep in her car seat. You packed a small bag for her and yourself - If you needed anything else, you could pick it up when you needed it, as far as you were concerned right now, you and Romy just needed out of here.

the next morning when you woke up, the night before felt like a blur. You swore you were high on adrenaline, and now you were on a huge comedown. You turned on your side, reaching to hold your babies hand, smiling gently as you now realised that you wouldn't have to face seeing (Name) when you went out of this room. You sat up as Romy stirred, reaching out to lift her from the next to me bed that Kelly had put beside the bed in the spare room.

"Shshsh, it's okay, my love, mama's got you," You rocked Romy, pushing her small tuft of her hair out of her face as she fussed before latching to you.

"Mommy, I want to see auntie Y/N's baby!" You smiled, hearing Penelope being so excited to meet Romy, even though she would have to wait a while to be able to play with her. 

"I know, but you need to wait until they wake up," Kelly tried to reason with the young girl, who pouted and crossed her arms and turned to Max, as if he was going to risk going in and waking a sleeping baby.

"Maxie!" Penelope whined, pouting as Max and Kelly chuckled at her behaviour. They both looked up as the door to the spare room opened, you holding Romy at your hip. "Mommy look!" Penelope pointed at your daughter excitedly. "Can I hold her auntie Y/N?! Please, please please?!" You chuckled and smiled down at Penelope.

"Maybe not right now P, she just had a really big breakfast and I wouldn't want her to throw up all over your nice pyjamas," You reasoned with the small girl, smiling as she nodded in understanding. "I promise that you can hold her later."

"Yay!" Satisfied with your answer, Penelope ran back to her toys, occupied with whatever new toy Max or Kelly had bought for her. You smiled as you continued patting Romy's back, hearing her coo and try to wiggle towards her uncle Max.

"Aww, she wants me," Max cooed at her, taking her from your arms and holding her the way you previously did. "She's so cute, almost makes you want another, Kelly?" 

"In your dreams, Max Emillian," You laughed at the two of them, you knew that Max was a great bonus dad for Penelope, he was the opposite of Jos - Which was still a pretty low bar. "How old is she Y/N?" 

"She's almost 7 months, which is crazy for me, she was my tiny little baby and now she's starting to crawl," You told Kelly, holding your arms out to your brother as Romy started fussing in his arms, reaching out to you. "Anyway um...thank you, both, for last night. Lukas text me this morning, he doesn't want us back, left all our stuff in the lobby of the apartment which is fine cause I need to go back for my car anyway." 

"Don't be silly, I'll go get it, you don't need to go back there. And anyway, there's someone you're spending the day with to get back into socialising - He's great with kids too, so you can take Romy with you." Max told you, watching as your brows furrowed in confusion.

"What? Who is it?"

"Do you remember the whiny one from Monaco that had the inchident? Him, he got broken up with and he's been depressed so I thought you two could be friends."