#I’m honestly a fucking poet

[hana-bobo-finch]

erm…..posting about an OC via a rushed shitpost was not on my 2025 bingo card!! 😂😂😂😂😂😂get it??? 😂😂😂because his name is bingo??(GETS SHOT)

these are all things he has done or has attempted to do so consider this the full intro post for that freak for now. he’s still too undercooked to fully introduce but damn I love him

[johnnyst0rm]

That poet gladiator is ruining his life in these games😂🥴

Poor Geta looks so done. Caracalla looks like he knows his brother is so done.

[hivemuthur]

To Be Known - Ch.5.

viktorxfemale!reader explicit! (and I can't stress this enough, kids shoo!) Modern AU, set in London, current era but not very specific. It's just a love story.

<- previous chapter MASTERLIST next chapter ->

word count: 6K

warnings, or rather this chapter contains: d/s etiquette (stoplight system), punishment (spanking), slight dacryphilia, cunnilingus, slight overstimulation, word 'cum' (hi Krys!), yearning, yearning, yearning, yearning.

author’s note: Ok, so time for me to explain Baal a bit if you didn’t have the opportunity to check it out. It’s a play that explores the life and fall (I guess) of a drunken poet Baal, that rejects society and dips into the philosophy of Sturm und Drang (yk, Goethe and all that shit). Baal is an anti-hero and it’s basically a study of (an evil? morally gray?) genius that went as far as he could. There is a nice, recorded version with David Bowie in it for anyone who doesn’t want to read but it’s a cool read nevertheless, very poetic. Honestly to this day I don’t know if it’s good or not, it’s just a thing I’ve read a long time ago during my times of Bowie obsession and it stayed with me forever. And as usual, playlist here, @rennethen my beta, massive thank you and artist is @petitesieste ♡

Cross-posted on AO3

—

A light shuffle, then a tickle. A kiss to your temple, dry and warm, a throaty hum, then a hand rubbing your cheek. It would be all sweet and loving if it weren’t for the way he wipes away remnants of night drool before placing a kiss there.

“Wake up,” he says, voice rough with morning gravel, and you breathe deeply against his chest, pressing your stomach into his. “It’s 9 a.m.”

“Oh, no.” You jolt, panicked, eyes snapping wide painfully fast, and Viktor rushes to put out the fire.

“It’s 9 a.m. on Sunday,” he chuckles. “I just really need to pee,” he adds, tipping his chin down, gesturing at the fusion of bodies—your bellies pressed together tight, arms wrapped around each other, yours circling his waist, his draped over your shoulders, one trapped beneath your neck, legs tangled with your thigh swung over his hip. “I’m trapped, you see.”

“Oh.” You blink twice, slowly, catching up, then release him. “Sorry. I don’t really sleep with people too often,” you try to explain your greediness, but he’s already getting up.

Viktor smirks. “That I can tell,” he says, pulling on a jumper, and you say goodbye to his pretty back. “You’re not the easiest nap partner,” he throws over his shoulder as his legs swing off the bed.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, you know.” Viktor smiles, leaning back on one hand against the mattress. “The snoring, the drooling, eh, some mumbling,” he lists, tracing the curve of your thigh with his fingers. “I think you quoted some Hamlet.”

“Oh, God.” You groan, hiding your face in the crook of your elbow. “Sorry.”

“I don’t mind a bit of gross,” he muses, his hand skimming higher, to your hip.

Your hand falls back on the bed, firm, and you pull your leg away from his touch. “Are you saying I’m an ugly sleeper?” you ask, eyebrows quirked.

“No,” Viktor says quickly. “No, absolutely not.” He corrects himself, crawling back next to you, stopping you from turning away, hands pulling you flush against him. “You are so, so pretty, no matter what you’re doing,” he breathes into your mouth before kissing you. And you are so painfully aware that this is the first kiss outside of sex that it twists your gut. He parts from you with a quiet pop and mutters, “Just a bit disgusting, that’s all.”

“Oh, get lost.” You snort and push his face away with one hand. He chuckles but gets up awkwardly, shuffling toward the bathroom. As soon as he’s gone, you cover your eyes and mutter a quiet, “Fuck,” into the air of his bedroom, your voice a rasp coming from your abused throat.

Moments pass, leaving you alone, staring at the ceiling, thinking, overthinking, grinding everything from last night. Weighing what it is exactly that had you French exit the business dinner and skip to his apartment like a dog, tongue out and panting. Whether it’s just the thrill of it, the benefits that come with it, the absolute freedom of expression that Viktor guarantees, or just… him.

Is it the setup or his praise, the mouth that gives it, the tongue it rolls off, his hands that bruise and cleanse, his stomach that you desperately want to lick all over, his criminally gorgeous nose, his stupid man-smell, the crook of his shoulder shaped for your cheek and yours only, or… or what?

The door creak breaks you out of your self-mind-flagellation as Viktor sighs deeply and returns to bed.

“So.” He plops onto the mattress with a grunt, completely unaware. “How are you?”

“Why do you always ask?” You roll to your side, prop your head on your palm, and pull the covers up to your armpits.

Viktor leans in, lays flat on his stomach, and brushes hair off your neck. “It’s my job,” he says quietly, tracing the fading marks with his fingers. Then, he wraps them around the column of your throat, gently, and asks, “Asphyxiation then? Did you like it?”

“No innuendos with you, I swear to God,” you laugh, the tendons in your neck flexing under his palm. He squeezes tighter, just a notch, and watches with quiet fascination as your skin dents beneath his fingers. For a moment, Viktor seems lost in thought, absorbed in the sensation, before your answer pulls him back.

“Yes, I liked it.”

His grip eases, fingers shifting into a slow, absentminded caress. “We should be more careful, though,” he murmurs, pressing his thighs to yours. “You should tap more. And I got a bit carried away.” His voice is steady, but his eyes are softer, something sorrowful flickering in their depths.

“You didn’t hurt me,” you say, even though you know full well that your throat aches as fuck.

“That’s a lie,” Viktor counters easily, voice dipping lower. “I know your throat hurts, but it’s not about that.” His fingers trace light patterns on your skin now, smoothing over where his grip had been firm. “Some aches are good the day after,” he says, leaving out which aches are not of a good kind. “But this one... it’s a thin line. So if you want this, you need to promise me you’ll tap. Diligently.”

“Diligently tap or diligently promise?” you tease, rubbing your nose against his cheek. Any occasion to steer the conversation into a less serious area—you take.

But Viktor doesn’t. He reaches for a fistful of hair at your nape, gently unplucking you from himself. “Both,” he says earnestly, then gives you a kiss like a man grown—serious and deep. “Promise me you will tap diligently, or I won’t fuck your mouth like that again.”

And that’s a threat, the first one you’ve received. As serious as the kiss, it has you simultaneously scared for the sentence to be delivered and hot between your legs at the chance to prove your obedience. “I diligently promise,” you say, swallowing a gulp that travels slowly through your aching throat.

“Good,” he mutters. “Now, coffee.”

And that’s it. Viktor stands up, reaches for his cane, and marches to the kitchen, leaving you tensed up and clenched up. You scoff loud enough for him to hear, having no idea that your brat point meter is already swelling at the tip.

You go through your bathroom necessities, and before you can turn to join him, his voice reaches you from the living room: “In here.”

He sits on the couch, reading a newspaper—of course. An act so vintage it complements his wardrobe. He holds out a cup for you, not looking up. When you don’t take it for a long moment, just outright stare at him, he finally lifts his head and asks, “What?”

“Nothing,” you mutter, taking the coffee.

Then you sit with your back to the armrest, knees pulled up to your chin, your shorts revealing a slice of ass that Viktor looks at not very secretively. He smiles, leaving you to do whatever it is you apparently need to do to make yourself feel less uncomfortable, and suddenly, you realise you’re getting the skittish cat treatment.

The obvious thing to do would be to sink your nose into work, so you skim through your phone. It feels oddly domestic—again—to be doing this around him, but you push the thought away, along with the unease creeping into your lungs.

Scrolling through emails, you give your hand a break to perform your morning joint-cracking ritual, perfected over the years—one-handed, each finger getting its special time under the thumb, and then the thumb itself skilfully popped by your middle.

Viktor watches from his seat on the couch, eyebrows climbing high onto his forehead. “I forgot to tell you—that’s another thing you do in your sleep,” he remarks, voice smooth, amused.

“What?”

“You pop your joints when you’re asleep,” he states flatly.

“You’re kidding,” you huff a laugh through your nose and roll your eyes at him.

“No.” He lifts his hand, mimicking whatever it was he saw, crude and imprecise, his own joints refusing to cooperate with the demonstration. “You did this—” he attempts again, fingers stiff, useless “—then went right back to sleep.”

“Sorry,” you laugh and clasp a hand to your forehead. “I know it’s freaky.”

Viktor smiles, runs his tongue on the inner side of his cheek, and says, “I told you—I don’t mind it.”

“Hm…” You stretch your fingers, press your knuckles idly into your palm. “Do you… like it?”

“I don’t mind it,” he repeats, a challenge lingering in his tone. Doesn’t mind is possibly an understatement, as the sound has already crawled into the realm of his favourites.

You eye him inquisitively and after a moment, give him a disbelieving grin. “You think it’s hot.”

The newspaper folds with a soft rustle against his lap, long fingers pressing it down at the centre crease. He capitulates with a lopsided smile, eyes flicking up from beneath his lashes. “What does it say about me?”

“Alright, that’s freaky,” now you outright laugh at him. And that’s possibly the last of the last straws that Viktor has kept promising himself to act upon.

“Oh, is it now?” His lips curl. “Amongst all the things, that’s the one that’s freaky?”

“Completely, yes.” You nod, wicked grin in place. “Look at yourself, you are bloody delighted.” A slow shake of your head. “Absolutely freaky.”

The newspaper slides from his lap to the floor, forgotten. He moves, shifting close, crowding you against the armrest. “I am,” he says, a murmur against your skin as he hooks a hand around your neck, thumb brushing beneath your ear. His other hand drags down your spine, slow, pressing the length of his palm to each notch of your vertebrae before dipping lower. “And you,” he continues, voice an easy purr, “have been a brat since yesterday.”

“Have I now?” you ask, feigning innocence, but there’s a tremor to it when his hand coasts lower, over the curve of your ass.

His hum is deep, approving. He palms the swell of your cheek, squeezes, then presses down, a firm, unspoken instruction. Your arms fold, chin pressed to your palms, body angled over his lap. You breathe deep, infinitely grateful for the shift—domesticity dispersing like steam off skin.

“What should I do with you?” he muses, fingertips teasing over bare flesh, lingering at the crease of your thigh.

You smirk. “I don’t know. Tell me how sexy my wobbly joints are—ah!” A slap. Not hard, just sudden, a sharp clap of skin that jolts through you like a shock of cold water.

His fingers fist in your hair, gentle but insistent, tugging your head back just enough to tilt your face toward him. “Colour?” he asks, voice lower now, serious.

“Green,” you breathe.

Viktor’s smile inches toward something near evil, sharp at the edges, gleaming wicked. His hand slips beneath your shorts, trailing slowly down the curve of your bum. Then he yanks them down your thighs, fabric dragging warm skin in its wake—but he pauses, stops at his favourite place, fingers finding slick heat.

“How come you’re already wet?” he asks, swiping long fingers across your slit, dragging through the damp, teasing.

You exhale, slow, measured, pressing back into his touch. “Maybe I’m freaky too.”

His breath is a laugh, dark and knowing. “Completely spoiled,” he murmurs, thumb pressing light against your clit, just enough to make your hips twitch. “I have been far too lax with you.” A pause, like he’s running numbers in his head, then, “From my calculations, it would seem you’ve accumulated eleven brat points.”

You grin into the crook of your arm, half a laugh slipping free. “It’s a wild guess, but… eleven?”

“Twelve, then.” And then his hand leaves you, a brief absence before the first slap lands.

And it’s sharp, bright, a sound that cuts through the quiet and bounces off the walls. It steals a gasp from your throat, hips lurching forward, heat blooming under the heel of his palm.

Viktor hums, a satisfied little noise, fingers tracing the pinking print he’s left behind. “One,” he counts, voice steady. “This one is for nit-picking my words yesterday.” The hand returns, smooths over skin like an apology, then—another slap.

You jolt, breath stuttering, fingers curling into the couch cushion.

“And now, for sulking—two,” he says, like it’s a tally to be kept, a record of your misbehaviour. The weight of his other hand stays firm on your lower back, keeping you in place.

The next strike is sharper. You let out a low sound that doesn’t know if it wants to be protest or plea. The sting lingers, heat rolling beneath your skin, seeping lower.

“Three,” he counts again, sliding his palm over your ass in slow, thoughtful strokes, fingers curling just enough to drag the pain into something worse, something better. “For me having to pull the safety rules out of you,” he explains. “Twelve is quite the number, isn’t it?”

You nod against your folded arms, breath heavy.

He clicks his tongue, unimpressed. “Use your words.”

“Yes,” you manage, voice thin, needy.

“Yes, what?” Viktor insists, positively entertained.

“Yes, it’s a big number.”

He chuckles, a sound full of dark satisfaction. “Pity.” His palm lifts, hovers a moment too long before striking down again. “Four. For the cocksucking remark.”

The sharp sting melts into warmth, deep, insistent, and you shift, thighs pressing together. It doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Ah,” Viktor murmurs, pleased. His fingers skim between your legs, drag through wetness, push inside with slow, measured pressure. He groans, quiet and low, before pulling back. “I see. It seems I’ve miscalculated.”

You whimper at the loss, at the teasing, at the way he’s making you feel exposed, unravelled. “What—what do you mean?”

His palm ghosts over your skin, grip tightening. “We may need more than twelve, after all.”

The fifth lands heavier, the flat of his palm striking where the sting is still fresh. Your hips jerk, a whimper caught in your throat. Pain and pleasure meld together into one, indescribable feeling that swells in your chest.

“Five, for being a smartass in general,” he murmurs, rubbing warmth into the skin, dragging his nails in light, barely-there scratches. “More to go.”

Six—for calling him freaky—has you moaning out. Seven—for teasing him about it—has your moan breaking into a hoarse curse.

Eight, which you don’t even hear what it’s for, tips something over. The burn settles deep, thick and heady, curling into rawness. Your breath comes out uneven, shaky, and you press your face harder against your arms, squeezing your eyes shut. It’s too much—not the pain, not the way he touches you after, not even the arousal pooling between your thighs. It’s the slow erosion of restraint, the creeping sense of surrender, the fact that every strike is carving you open and he’s watching, watching, watching.

Nine lands and you don’t realise you’re crying until a quiet, broken sound escapes.

Viktor pauses. His hands, always moving, smoothing, measuring the way you react, still against your skin. “Colour?”

You swallow, a sob trembling in your chest. “Yellow.”

A breath, sharp. Then he moves, quick and sure, gathering you up from where you lay, pulling you into his lap, into warmth, into the steady, certain press of his body. His hand cradles the back of your head, tucks you in close, fingers threading through your hair.

“Good,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Very good.”

The shift is instant, from teasing discipline to something else, something solid, something safe. His palm rubs slow circles between your shoulder blades, the other smoothing over your thigh, careful and reverent.

“You did so well,” he tells you, voice a murmur against your skin. “I’m here.”

His hands come to cradle your cheeks, thumbs tracing the damp tracks of tears. He watches them soak into his skin, then, as if testing a theory, he lifts one to his mouth, licks the salt from his thumb, slow and indulgent. His gaze darkens. “So pretty like this, hmm?”

“We didn’t get to twelve,” you mumble, voice small, barely there, as if the weight of it matters. As if stopping short means failure.

Viktor exhales, something close to a chuckle, though fond, though aching. He presses his forehead to yours, the heat of him grounding, anchoring. “It doesn’t matter,” he says, softer now, the edge of control giving way to something more tender. “You’ve been a very good girl.”

His hand skims down, over the sore heat of your skin, soothing and possessive. “Would you like a reward now?”

You look up at him, eyes big and wet, and for a moment he looks so in love it’s almost bone crushing. Nearly undoes whatever fragile thing still holds you together. But you tell yourself it’s just your subspaced brain, that it’s the haze of it, that it’s the moment—because anything else would be too much.

Unsure, you give a slow nod, almost dazed, and Viktor hums in approval, guiding you to lie back against the couch. His hands are steady and sure—one at the back of your neck, the other skimming down your stomach, pressing, positioning. Your shorts are still bunched around your thighs, and he takes his time peeling them away, dragging the fabric down, down, as if unwrapping something sacred.

His breath skates over your skin as he settles, hands bracketing your hips, thumbs pressing gently into the dip there. He takes a moment—just looks, just lets his hands trace over what he’s made of you. The warmth, the slight tremble, the slick evidence of your keen.

Then, with a patience that feels like both a mercy and a torment, he presses a kiss just above your knee. Then another, higher, the rough scratch of his stubble making you twitch. His mouth moves slow, open-mouthed, trailing along the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, heating every nerve until you’re shifting beneath him, restless.

“So needy,” he murmurs against you, voice like low smoke, thick with satisfaction. He noses into you, inhaling deep, greedy. “Messy girl.”

And then, finally, he licks into you.

It’s devastating—the first stroke of his tongue, firm and languid, tasting. He works you over like he’s memorising, like he’s deciphering something only he is meant to understand. His grip tightens, holding you in place, keeping you from squirming away from the overwhelming contrast of the ache of your ass pressed into the couch and pleasure that his mouth brings.

His tongue is so precise, lapping up every drop. He sucks at your clit, just enough to make you cry out, then soothes it with broad, slow strokes. And Viktor enjoys it so, so much—pausing just to watch you react, the way you arch into him, the way your hands, unsure, try to twist into his locks and tug, only to shy away and barely skim across his temples.

You feel raw, open, experimented on, but the success of it entails your pleasure and this only. Heat begins to crawl up your spine, and you moan out loud, neck seizing and fingers emboldened, when you finally choose to hold onto his hair. Like a praise, he hums deep into you, and the vibration alone nearly sends you over. His hands tighten on your hips, thumbs pressing into the soft flesh, holding you steady as he eats you with slow, devastating precision.

Cunt sealed over with his mouth, you rock your pelvis to meet him and Viktor chuckles into you. His tongue works you over like he’s trying to dig out an answer to a question deep down he already knows, but he wants to hear it from you. Nearly sucking the soul out of you, Viktor is almost in heaven. Knees bent where the couch restricts him, ankles bumping against each other, he lays squeezed against you and the armrest, hips pressing down, trying to find at least a little friction against his aching cock.

You whimper his name, barely coherent, tugging harder at his hair. He groans into you, deep and pleased, and it carries all the way to the tips of your toes. His hands flex on your hips, adjusting his grip, and then he tilts his head, lips sealing over your clit in a way that leaves you shaking, clenching down on nothing.

It crests fast, this pull from the base of your spine to your throat, strong and imminent, stealing your breath as you cum hard, hugging his ears with your thighs. You don’t even realise you’re sobbing out his name, not until he presses his tongue against you again, lapping up the aftermath, and your whole body jerks.

“Too much,” you gasp, hands trying weakly to push him away.

“Mm,” Viktor hums, but doesn’t listen. He presses one last, slow kiss to your overstimulated nerves with the damndest smirk on his slick-covered lips. Then he pulls back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes half-lidded, pupils blown wide.

Before you can fully catch your breath, he’s crawling up, pressing you back into the cushions, body warm and heavy over yours. His mouth finds yours, tasting like salt and heat and something uniquely you, and the way he kisses you—messy, deep, like he needs you to understand—has you whimpering against his lips.

“It’s a crime that I only get to do this now,” he says, wrapping his arms around your waist, trapping you in. “You are so sweet.”

“Viktor,” you chuckle, overwhelmed. “How are you so good at this?”

“Which would make you more comfortable?” he asks, voice thoughtful. “That I had a lot of practice, or that it’s easy with you?”

You blink at that and realise—none of the above. The first one digs a pit of dead cold jealousy low in your stomach. The second triggers a reaction tethering between flight and freeze. Seeing no response coming and a slight discomfort settling in, Viktor asks, “Are you alright? What do you need?”

“I’m fine,” you give him a smile, locking your jaw in it. “My ass hurts, though.”

“Show me,” Viktor says between soft pecks left all over your face. When he sees you wincing, he clarifies, “I wasn’t asking.”

With a groan and an eye roll (which triggers the brat point meter back to action), you turn onto your stomach, and Viktor sits back on his heels to admire the painting he’s left on your ass. “I can’t really decide what’s prettier—this or your neck,” he muses, rubbing his palms over the bruised skin. You hiss at the contact but arch into it anyway.

Then, he lowers back onto his belly and rests his cheek on one of yours, red and swollen. His lips press soft kisses into the heat of your body, tongue flicking out to soothe where his hand had been heavy. "Can I ask—what’s your opposition to safe words?" he murmurs into you, voice slow, thick, like liquid band air poured onto a wound.

“Oh, nothing really,” you say, shifting against the couch, arms hooked over the armrest, head turned to glance at him. “I just come up with criminally bad ones, and they get so, so bad I can’t bring myself to actually use them when I need them.”

Viktor hums, a quiet vibration against your you. “And the colour system works better?”

“Yes.”

“Then why don’t you use it?” He presses another kiss, open-mouthed, dragging heat along your bruised flesh.

“What do you mean?”

“I use it. I ask you, and you reply. But you do not say it first,” he says, lips curving against you. “We got to yellow today—would you ask me to stop if I didn’t check on you?”

A lump grows in your throat, dry and insistent, a pang of confused shame follows. “I… I don’t know.”

He exhales a gush of warm air as his hands smooth along the back of your thighs. “Do you promise to pay more attention, or do I have to fuck your throat again now?”

You tense—just for a moment—then breathe out a small, half-laugh. “I promise.” A pause. “Though I thought we’d agreed that I’m not opposed to throat fucking.”

“And I thought we’d agreed that I want you to love it, not be merely not opposed,” he counters, nipping the swell of your ass, tongue following after before you can complain.

“This is my way of saying I… love it,” you admit, voice quieter. “I like everything you do so far.”

He sighs through his nose, lips still against you. “I’m glad.” Another kiss. “And likewise.”

Your fingers twitch against the couch, mind circling back. “Why are you being so careful?”

A beat. Then, his nose lifts your shirt, mouth drags to the dip of your lower back, his breath ghosting the words over your skin. “Hmm. I wouldn’t say that’s being careful.” His palms press down, grounding and reverent. “I just want you to understand that I’m not the one making decisions here. At least not the only one.”

His voice sinks lower, words soft at the edges. “It’s not about how far I will go,” he continues. “It’s about how much you are willing to give me.”

You swallow your breath, fingers digging into the fabric beneath you. “Viktor,” you say, and he hums, lifting his head slightly. “How experienced exactly are you?”

His lips curl into a smirk where they rest against you. “Quite.” His fingers trace slow, absentminded patterns against your hip. “But less than you think.” A kiss, softer now. “I am also quite well-read on the matter.”

"I see," you murmur, skin still alight beneath his mouth, warmth pooling where his lips had been.

Before you can say anything more, your phone buzzes—wedged somewhere between the couch cushions. You groan as you fish it out, flipping it over to see the name flashing across the screen. Mel. A rather unwanted lifeline thrown into the ocean named Viktor, in which you have snugly sunken.

The very reason for your lack of breath is staring at you intently, chin propped against the swell of your butt, his fingers idly tracing the curve of your hip. As if he can read the concern from the back of your head, he asks, "Is something the matter?"

"No," you sigh, thumb hovering over the notification. "It's just Mel. She wants to hang and talk about the play change."

"Ah." He shifts, stretching his arms across your back, like he might keep you pinned if you so much as thought about leaving. "Jayce texted me too."

You glance over your shoulder, raising an eyebrow. "What did you say?"

"That I'm busy."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that," he confirms, expression utterly unmoved.

You huff, rolling onto your side, phone still clutched in your palm. "What do you want me to say?"

He shrugs, casual, infuriating. "To Mel? Anything you want," he says, fully lying to himself. He’d rather throw the wretched phone out of the window now than have you leave, but he promised.

You scoff. "Viktor!"

"What?" His fingers trail up your thigh, dancing light, teasing. "I told you already—as much as you are willing to give, no more."

Your lips press together, frustration curling in your chest. "That's… not fair."

He smirks, dipping his head to nip at your side, the whisper of teeth making you shiver. "Brat," he murmurs, all smug and satisfied. “What play are you changing to? And which?”

“Oh, right,” you say, catching up with the events from your actual life. “We are doing Baal instead of Hamlet.”

“How interesting,” he muses, dragging a slow hand down your ribs, feeling the way your skin jumps under his touch. “Any particular inspiration for it?”

You give him a look, narrowing your eyes. “Are you trying to insult me, or do you enjoy teasing me?”

“Never insult you,” he says, shifting closer, nuzzling into your cheek, his breath warm against your skin. A slow kiss pressed to your temple, soft and lingering. “Always enjoy teasing you, though.” Another kiss, this time at the corner of your mouth, deliberate in its restraint. “And I’m flattered to be a source of your inspiration.” His lips trail lower, catching yours at last, but lightly, like he’s waiting for you to chase him.

Forgetting yourself for a moment, you toss your phone to the couch and twist your fingers into his hair. Lips parted by breath, you kiss him, humming and licking into his mouth. And Viktor responds, pulling you flush and pressing his nose next to yours, melding your faces together.

Finally, with a deep sigh, you settle on moving Mel to next weekend, your excuse as weak as work—put in brackets on the return text message. Guilt settles in immediately, thick and cloying, for lying to a friend. Viktor also sighs, tries to disguise it as a yawn, but you notice.

The day is slow, one of the slowest you've had in the longest time. Breakfast at 1 p.m. A shower later, separate, functional—none of the couple-like washing each other’s backs. It both calms you and unsettles some part of you, standing alone under the stream of hot water, which you later exchange for ice-cold poured over your ass cheeks.

Then, Viktor—wandering around his apartment in just a jumper and boxer shorts, his hair wet, framing his face prettily, barefoot, limping toward bookshelves when he tires of whatever he’s reading. Brief conversations about Baal, more teasing. Some serious, when he finally shares the notes he’s scribbled in the margins.

“Here, it says: The line between submission and subjugation,” he tells you, pointing his long finger at his handwriting. “It’s just something to meditate upon,” he explains, and you just listen, expression serious, free of judgment.

“Here: To be needed is a burden. To be worshipped is a curse. I was in a dark place when I wrote this,” he chuckles, shaking his head.

“Have you?” you ask. “Been needed and worshipped?”

“Not in the way you think, again,” he replies, placing a hand on your cheek. And somehow, even though it’s Viktor baring his soul to you, all he still cares about is you being comfortable. You not getting scared away. And you feel another lump of guilt forming somewhere in your stomach.

“Here, some more. You can use some of this if you want,” he adds with a smile. “He who demands all is left with nothing,” he translates. “And To consume and to care—mutually exclusive, or merely difficult?—and that’s just me theorizing again.” He waves his hand dismissively and flicks through, searching for more. Finally:

“Pleasure without control is a slow kind of death.”

It lances through you, a thought, unbidden—were Viktor ever to love you, it would be a crushing kind of love. One that you couldn’t possibly deserve. One that never gets complacent, always watches, always pays attention. All of this grants you such a large piece of him, you feel inclined to give him something back.

And it’s all incredibly silly, because you’ve known a man for barely a week and feel like you’ve known him for a lifetime.

You nuzzle into him, the book still in his lap, and breathe into his neck, “Thank you.” Viktor places a hand on your bare leg, fingers skimming beneath the hem of your shorts. He puts the book aside and lifts his thighs so you can snug your feet underneath, cocooned in warmth.

“Is that your handbook on how not to do things?” you ask finally.

“Something like that,” he chuckles. “But I also do love this play.”

“Would you come to the premiere?”

“I would love to.”

A long moment passes between you, long enough for the sun to stretch golden arms through his windows, for the dust to dance in its light. You sigh, reluctant. “I should get back. Still some stuff to do.”

“Of course,” Viktor says, patting your hip, but his fingers linger, just for a second, before pulling away.

When you are all set—changed, packed, bag slung over your shoulder, second pair of shoes in hand—you wait in the corridor, shuffling on your feet, caught in the awkward gravity of goodbye. Viktor takes your hand in his, holding it between both of his palms, staring at it like it holds some unspoken answer. He plays with your fingers, brushing a thumb over your knuckles, tracing the ridges of your joints like a map he doesn’t want to forget.

“Do you have to go?” he asks, quiet, like the words might scare you off. Against everything said today, he tries. Where his mind tells him to wait, his heart reaches too fast, too soon—but the thought of letting go of your hand now is harrowing.

“I should,” you murmur, eyes fixed on his fingers threading through yours, unable to shake the thought of how well they fit together.

“When will I see you again?”

“I don’t know. But soon?” You hesitate. “I have, um… work,” you say weakly, unbelieving your own reasoning.

He steps closer, tilting his head, studying you. “Stay,” he says, low and quiet, his voice threading through the space between you like a plea and a command all at once. “Please. I really, really want to fuck you,” he whispers, pressing his forehead to yours.

Your breath shudders in your throat.

“I’ll wake you. I’ll make you coffee and drive you to work,” he murmurs, nuzzling into your cheek, breathing you in, the barest brush of lips against your jaw. “Just stay and be a good girl for me.”

Your bag slips down your shoulder, forgotten. Shoes tumble from your hand, hitting the floor with dull thuds.

“Oh, God,” you breathe, already dizzy.

“Please,” he murmurs against your skin. His mouth finds your neck, kisses pressing between words, melting the last of your resistance.

“Ah—” Your hands fist into his jumper, grip faltering. “Fuck me,” you exhale, light-headed. “Fuck me,” you whisper into his lips.

And then his mouth is on yours, and he’s walking you back toward the wall, hands sure, touch convincing—but not much convincing had to be done.

By the time you reach the bedroom, you’re both half undressed, clothes marking a scattered trail from the hallway. Viktor’s hands are on your ribs, your hips, burning their way over your skin, rolling his beloved skirt up so he can touch your still-warm ass again.

Moth to flame, you follow him onto the bed, across his lap, and it’s not long before he sits against the backrest, you sink onto his cock until he’s buried deep inside you, guiding your hips over his. Your arms wrap around his neck, tight and needy, mouth to mouth when you breathe out moans for him to breathe in.

The rhythm of it is slow, deep. He moves you like he’s known your body longer than you have, hands spanning your ribs, your waist, guiding you in the way that makes you feel worshipped without being consumed. It’s easy to obey him, to let him set the pace, to fall into the shape of what he wants—because what he wants is you, not just your body, but the trembling, aching need of you, the part that melts and yields beneath his touch.

Viktor’s control frays by degrees, need eroding it like wind over rock. He bows his head to the slope of your shoulder, breath hot, arms tightening around you as if he could press you deeper into himself. His hands flex, grasping, clutching, like he’s trying to commit the feeling of you to memory—soft where he is sharp, pliant where he is rigid, and together something better, something whole.

After, when breath evens and sweat cools, you remain folded together, the fit of you easy, natural, as if shaped by the same hands. Viktor presses a final kiss to your temple, sighs against your skin, and lets his grip loosen—but not fully. He never fully lets go. Sleep comes like fog rolling in, weightless, inevitable, and you let it take you, safe in the quiet shelter of him.

[hazelsmirrorball]

My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys | Charles Leclerc

SUMMARY: After being mia for a year, Y/n comes back better than ever ready to talk about her six year relationship, through music.

FACE CLAIM: Lola Tung

pairings: Singer! Reader x Charles Leclerc

a/n: sorry for also being mia!! i’ve been working with uni and publishing my book! i hope you guys enjoy

david.iacono via instagram

liked by logansargent, minnie.mills and 100,427 others

tagged: y/n.l/n_

david.iacono our girl is finally making a comeback!!

view all coments

…

user102 i’m sorry but she’s alive?!

user15 y/n is finally back!!

user12 omg finally!! i missed her so so much

user4579_ i’ve missed you in the paddock

minnie.mills she’s back!!!

user101 wait? our girl? what happened to charles?

-> user15 im pretty sure they broke up! she hasn’t been seen anywhere for the past year and that includes everything related to charles.

-> user278 they don’t even follow each other on instagram anymore!

y/n.l/n via insta stories. minnie.mills via insta stories.

y/n.l/n via insta

liked by charles_leclerc and 1,820,278 more.

y/n.l/n guess who’s back with great news!! if you’ve been following me for a while you would now how much i love musical theater and i’m forever thankful for giving life to eurydice in hadestown!

view all comments

…

user10 our queen is back and she’s going to broadway?! omg guys!!!!!

user78 it’s happening!!!

user57 you did it y/n!!!

user17 i feel like a proud mother, congrats!!

minnie.mills broadway is shaking in their boots!! Just wait till they hear the album!

-> user890 the album?! what album??

-> user27 omg omg omg

-> y/n.l/n thank you for spoiling the album

user19 i don’t know what’s crazier, the album announcement in the comments or charles in the likes

y/n.l/n posted a video via insta.

liked by arthur_lecler, carlossainz55 and 2,920,831 others.

y/n.l/n. decided to give you guys a preview of a song I've been writing since I was gone, hope you guys enjoy!! xoxo

view all comments

user28 no fucking way!!!

user2901 I'm going to puke

user290 we can all agree this song is about Charles, right?!?! I can't be crazy

user190 this is so crazy

user789 but what’s the name of the song?

-> y/n.l/n my boy only breaks his favorite toys

-> user17 it keeps getting worse and worse for charles

user219 if this is the preview of the album she's writing if I were Charles I would start hiding

user89 once I fix me, he's gonna miss me?!?!? she ate I fear

user19 I guess the new album is a disstrack

user55 well at least we know who arthur and carlos side with in the breakup

user26 charles pr team should get to work

y/n.l/n via insta.

liked by charles_leclerc, chrisbriney_ and 920,194 more.

y/n.l/n opening night was a hit! thank you for everyone that waited for me to heal and supported me all the way, i love you guys. good things are coming soon

view all comments

user78 you are so mega talented!! you deserve this and more

user891 the caption seems shady?

user178 oh charles what did you do

charles_leclerc congrats xoxo

-> user16 i don’t know what shocks me more, charles commenting or his xoxo

-> user89 once i fix me, he’s gonna miss me…

patriciooward via insta stories!

y/n.l/n via instagram !

liked by patriciooward, minnie.mills and 3,991.782 others

y/n.l/n all’s fair in love and poetry…new album THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT. out on friday!

view all comments

user189 omg?!? we’ve been getting so much content

user167 they could never make me hate you charles

patriciooward congrats cariño 🤍

-> user78 come again?

-> user67 pato what are you doing here?!

user78 i’m scared, if this is something about charles never proposing im going feral

user589 honestly i can’t wait until friday someone leak it!!

user67 please be ready charles

charles_leclerc 🤍

[alwaysahiccupandastrid]

Gladiator II - Thoughts (SPOILERS)

I was fortunate enough to watch Gladiator II at the Royal Global premiere at Leicester Square last night (Wednesday 13th November) and I NEED to share some thoughts but there are definitely some spoilers, so…

I cannot stress this enough:

THERE ❗️ ARE ❗️ SPOILERS ❗️ BELOW ❗️ THE ❗️ CUT ❗️

Once again

⚠️ DO NOT CLICK THE READ MORE IF YOU DO NOT WANT SPOILERS FOR GLADIATOR II ⚠️

There’s probably things I’m missing/forgetting right off the top of my head, and I might be paraphrasing/summarising some dialogue. I definitely need to rewatch it when I’m NOT super close to an IMAX cinema screen because I spent the whole movie with my neck craned backwards and my eyes darting everywhere because I was trying to take it all in.

Anyway, without further ado:

The opening credits were very beautiful, it recounted the plot of the original film but kind of like in the style of the opening credits of Pillars of the Earth? I don’t know if that makes sense 😭

If I remember correctly, Joseph is billed third behind Paul and Pedro, and Fred is billed fourth 🥹♥️

The film opens with a huge battle where the Roman army, led by Marcus Acacius, conquering the last free city of Africa (I think?), which is what Lucius and his wife are trying to defend

I cannot for the life of me remember what Lucius’ wife was called but she seemed nice, we only had her for a few minutes though before she got killed 😭

Okay so I’m going to start right off the bat by talking about the Emperors as they were the ones I was most looking forward to seeing, and I want to give them their own section!

We NEED to talk about Fred as Caracalla - this isn’t even me being biased, I’m being as unbiased as I can when I say that he was AMAZING

By the way, for months I’ve seen people talk shit about Fred, complaining about how they wish it was Barry Keoghan, whinging because “we could have had Joe and Barry” - to those people I say, shut the fuck up ☺️ I will NOT tolerate any hate for my boy Fred!

Fred actually had a much meatier part than Joe which was pleasantly surprising. I’m not saying Joe wasn’t unhinged or good, but he was way more sane than Fred’s character and you got the feeling that he was trying to hold their rule together and keep his brother from bringing down the whole empire

Caracalla surprised me because he was so much more softly spoken than I anticipated; in so many scenes he was childlike and almost pitiful to watch. For example, there were times where you could see him pouting or fidgeting like a bored toddler, at one point he essentially threw a tantrum and Geta had to hold him back from killing Acacius and Lucilla (and then in the background you could see him playfully swing the sword about like a child would with a toy) He would grin and get excited like a child whenever there was fighting or bloodshed, bouncing in his seat, he looked surprised and excited in the beginning when Geta handed him wine etc.

In the last coliseum fight scene, this was literally Caracalla getting excited when the fighting started - a literal child 😭

Honestly it was just fascinating to watch Caracalla because you could never tell if he was going to be childlike and almost-innocent or if he was going to start screaming and get violent

So apparently the reason that Caracalla is unhinged is because (to quote Geta) “the disease from his loins has spread to his head” (to paraphrase) which makes me think he’s got syphilis or something.

Also both of the emperors are briefly seen with concubines (as in the trailer), and Caracalla has both male and female ones hanging around him 😭 we love a bisexual Emperor!

Caracalla seems to have memory problems (probably as a result of his STI) because he doesn’t remember seeing Lucius fighting in front of them from just a couple of days ago at their party (the scene with the concubines) and Geta tries to remind him, “it’s the poet” but Caracalla just sits down and says he doesn’t remember

There’s a scene where Marcus and Lucilla are brought to the emperors in the middle of the night after being caught in a conspiracy to overthrow them, and you’ve got Geta in that red robe from the trailer whilst Caracalla is basically just wearing a fucking bedsheet toga style 😭 you know that shot in White Lotus where Fred/Quinn has a duvet around himself? Kind of like that

Contrary to that Letterboxd review calling the twins “BJ brothers”, there is NO incest in this film, and no hint of incest between the twins. I know a screenshot is circulating of Joe in the red robe where you could see what looked like the top/side of Fred’s head as if he’s on his knees, but they were absolutely NOT doing that 💀 the scene shows them both entering the room (Geta in his robe, hastily put on) and Fred in his bedsheet toga thing. I definitely didn’t get the vibe of incest at all, I got the vibe of “it’s the middle of the night and they’ve both been woken up because these two traitors (Marcus and Lucilla) were caught plotting against them”

I love that Caracalla’s weakness is Dondas (or Dundas? Different magazines are using different names so I’m so confused), his pet monkey (WE FUCKING LOVE CHERRY AND SO DOES FRED 😭♥️) Like he’s got Dondas/Dundas wearing a fucking dress and on a little chain lead, eating sweets from a bowl, and I have to applaud Fred for being able to act with a straight face while he had the monkey crawling over his shoulders, touching his hair, and at one point when the monkey moved the chain lead literally went right around/over his face

While there’s riots going on outside the palace, Caracalla is freaking out and has Dondas/Dundas the monkey on his shoulder, and Geta straight up threw wine at both of them before saying that maybe Dondas (or Dundas, whatever the fucking name is) go and calm down in another room 💀

There’s a scene where Macrinus finds Caracalla hiding under a table with the monkey and it made me think they were almost playing hide and seek 😭 truthfully I think he was just under there crying and hiding

It’s the fact that Macrinus was able to manipulate Caracalla into killing Geta by using his love of Dondas/Dundas against him; the people of Rome protest against their emperors, and Macrinus basically tells Caracalla that Geta is going to throw him to the plebs outside to be killed - and Dondas/Dundas. “Think about what they might do to Dondas” (or Dundas) - and that’s what pushes him over the edge.

NOT CARACALLA AND MACRINUS SAWING GETA’S FUCKING HEAD OFF LIKE THAT 😭 IT WAS STRAIGHT UP LIKE A HORROR FILM WITH MACRINUS COMING UP BEHIND CARACALLA AND HELPING?!?

Also Caracalla made the monkey a fucking consul of state (I think) after he killed Geta?!?! 😭 Absolutely fucking UNHINGED I TELL YOU

“ALL HAIL DONDAS! 😃” (or Dundas - again, someone please tell me the fucking monkey’s confirmed name)

They showed Geta’s head for WAY too long 😭 and Macrinus just showing it around like that?!? NASTY

Reeling over the fact they airbrushed out Geta’s head for the trailer because in this shot in the film Geta’s head is clearly visible on the table behind Denzel 💀

Sorry but Fred looked damn fine in that purple outfit near the end 😋

I feel like Caracalla had a little bit of a soft spot for Lucilla but the two sides of his personality were warring with each other: the sadistic bloodthirsty side wanted to murder both her and Marcus right away, but then near the end he whispers to Macrinus “must we kill Lucilla?” and he sounded a little hesitant or unsure which was interesting

Seeing Fred as Caracalla without Geta in that last coliseum battle scene? I can’t help but love him, Fred is seriously too good in this role. The shouting, the childlike excitement when the fighting started (see gif above)

Fred was definitely playing up the childlike side of Caracalla in his last scene when the people started revolting, he was literally curling up in his seat, snivelling and crying like a baby until Macrinus killed him from behind (he put something in his ear, i think he stuck a pin in his ear to impale his brain?) Truly pitiful end for Caracalla.

Once again: Fred Hechinger for Best Supporting Actor at the 97th Academy Awards campaign!! 😊↕️

Okay so now I’ve talked about the Emperors, I can talk about the rest of the film:

Ridley Scott truly said fuck historical accuracy in this film 😭 which is not surprising to be fair if you know him and his movies

This film was, expectedly, VERY bloody and violent from start to finish

NOT LUCIUS TAKING A BITE OUT OF THE BABOON 🤯

At one point where they’re bringing the slaves into Rome, they show statues of a wolf feeding two human children from her teat and Lucius recounts the story - this is obviously a reference to Romulus and Remus, twins raised by a wolf mother. This is actually really fitting because from earth on, Ridley AND Fred and Joe have mentioned the idea of the twins being based on this Romulus/Remus story?

DAMN, Paul Mescal was super beefy in this film like holy fucking shit dude

Honestly I adore Pedro but his role was way smaller than I thought it would be. His role is essentially to be Lucilla’s decent and loyal husband who also happened to lead the invasion that killed Lucius’ wife in the beginning of the film, something he did not want to do, hence why Lucius wants to kill him so badly (family drama, eh? 😭) and who is part of a plot to dethrone the twins

MATT LUCAS AS THE MASTER OF CEREMONIES?!? 😭 I won’t lie, at first it distracted me because I was like “why the fuck is Matt Lucas here” but he got a few laughs out of the cinema screening so his tiny parts added a little bit of humour to the film when it got tense

As I said above, there’s no incest shown - there is a MENTION, however, of a rumour that Lucius’ real father wasn’t Lucius Verus(?) but rather Commodus (obviously Lucilla’s brother/Lucius’ uncle from the first film). However, it’s not true because they make it very clear that Lucius’ father is Maximus. They do however briefly mention that Lucilla was a child bride at the age of 14 which is a bit fucked up

I was probably the only person in my screening who noticed this but at one point I saw graffiti on one of the walls on the outside/entrance to the coliseum that said something like “Irrumbo Imperators” - according to Google, that translates as “I attack the emperors”. However, it could have also been “Irrumabo Imperatores”, and if you ask Google to give you the Latin word for “fuck”? It’s “Irrumabo”. So essentially there was graffiti in the film that either said “attack the emperors” or “fuck the emperors” 💀

I thought that maybe Lucius had somehow forgotten that Lucilla was his mother despite being 12 when she sent him away but nope, he’s fully aware of who he actually is and who his mother is, he’s just angry at her for sending him away and never seeing him again 😭

NOT THAT SERVANT TATTLING ON LUCILLA AND MARCUS?!? 😤

They killed Marcus off WAY earlier than I thought they would by the way. The trailers give the impression that the final battle is Lucius vs Marcus but it’s actually Lucius vs Macrinus which is WILD to me

You know that scene in LOTR where the orcs shoot Boromir full of arrows? That is basically what happened in this film to General Acacius but with about 20 more arrows 💀 I had major Boromir flashbacks watching this scene

I’m glad that Lucilla and Lucius got to reconcile before the ending, given what ended up happening

“Because Emperor Caracalla is generous, he will allow Lucilla to have one Gladiator to fight to defend her” - ONE. ONE AGAINST ABOUT 30 TRAINED GUARDS 💀

I’m still reeling over the fact Derek Jacobi spoiled his own character’s death on the red carpet a mere hour before the film screening in front of THOUSANDS of people 😭 that man did NOT give a fuck quite frankly and I think that’s kind of hilarious of him

THE GASP THAT EVERYONE IN THE SCREENING COLLECTIVELY LET OUT WHEN MACRINUS KILLED LUCILLA BY SHOOTING HER IN THE CHEST?!? HE KILLED CARACALLA AND LUCILLA IN 60 SECONDS FLAT 😭

That said, this shot from the behind the scenes featurette about Ridley Scott is ten times funnier to me after watching the film and realising that not only is Ridley showing Denzel how to shoot the arrow that kills Lucilla, but Fred is also supposed to be dead in the chair at this point since Macrinus takes the bow and fires the arrow straight after killing Caracalla 😭

Poor Lucius has now seen his father, his mother, his uncle and his wife all die right in front of him, the man CANNOT catch a break 😫

That final battle between Lucius and Macrinus was GRUESOME 😳 Lucius cut off his hand and slashed him - I’m not sure if he actually cut him in half or if Macrinus just crumpled in the river in a heap but DAMN

This film used footage from the first Gladiator film so they gave the actor who played Lucius in the first film a credit which was nice!

That said, I know obviously it’s been 24 years since the original film so of course the child actor from the original is no longer 12 and so could not be in the flashback scenes showing young Lucius, but damn the difference was a little jarring to be honest, especially when it went from footage of the original film to new footage with the new child actor

Ridley Scott spoiled the ending of this fucking movie by saying he wanted to have Paul back to play Lucius again as the main character in Gladiator III 💀 so yeah, I already knew Lucius was surviving this film

Some final summary thoughts:

Let’s be honest, it would be impossible to top the first Gladiator and so while I loved Gladiator II and think it was amazing, it was obviously never going to quite reach the same level as the original

I know I just made the comment about nominating Fred for Best Supporting Actor but I have to be honest, I truly think Denzel deserves the nomination - if there’s only one actor from this film who gets that nomination, it has to be Denzel because he was by far the standout of the whole film. If I had to rank it personally I’d say Denzel and then Fred is a close second, then maybe Joseph and Pedro?

^ This isn’t me saying Joe and Pedro were bad at all, they were all really amazing, but this film just had so many characters and quite frankly Fred, Joe and Pedro had WAY less screentime than Denzel so they didn’t have nearly as much to work with as he did.

Again; I’m biased because I went in the most excited to see the Emperors, but I wish we’d had more of Caracalla and Geta. Fred and Joe did their best to work with what they were given, but they didn’t have that much and pretty much all of their scenes were shown in trailers or TV spots etc.

GIVE CHERRY THE MONKEY A FUCKING OSCAR

I obviously wasn’t expecting Paul Mescal to fight real baboons, rhinos and sharks but the CGI was… not great. It was quite obvious that it was CGI for the baboons and sharks, I think the rhino was slightly better though (Fred mentioned in an interview his first day involved “the mechanical rhino” so it was somewhat partly practical as well I suppose)

The pacing of this film was a little all over the place, if I’m being honest. I want to rewatch soon, from further back in the screen because, as I said, I was craning my head back the whole time and it ended up giving me a neck and headache so that probably added to me being uncomfortable (plus I’d had a long day and was thoroughly burned out by the time the screening started), but there were times where I was like “oh… we’re back here then 😐”

^ What I’m trying to say is that some of the storylines happened so fast and had very little build up (eg. The emperors in general) whilst other plots were so slow burn in comparison.

The music was so good! I know people are going to compare it unfavourable to Hans Zimmer’s original score from the first film, but I LOVE Harry Gregson-Williams (he did the soundtrack for the first two Narnia films so I’m biased 😅) and I thought he did a great job with the score here. The fact he had Hans Zimmer’s approval and praise made me confident the score would be great anyway

I feel like people are obviously going to compare Paul Mescal to Russell Crowe which… let’s be honest, has gotta suck for him because how the fuck do you live up to Russell Crowe?!? Some people have already said that they didn’t like Paul in this film, which… okay, fair enough. I honestly don’t think comparing him to Russell Crowe does him any favours. I enjoyed watching him personally, and I think given that this whole film rests on him, he did great. Not quite Russell Crowe but I have no complaints about his performance personally.

People are also going to compare Joe and Fred to Joaquin Phoenix’s Commodus, and I think they both did a great job given that they didn’t actually have nearly as much screen-time as Joaquin did in the original film. It’s almost unfair to compare them because in the first Gladiator, Commodus was the main antagonist - in this film, Macrinus is the main antagonist overall whilst the Emperors are more secondary antagonists that serve as obstacles for Macrinus’ rise to power. But they both did great with what they had.

Overall, my opinion of the film?

This film NEEDS to be seen on a big screen at the cinema! Go and watch it!

[shutupheathersorryheatherr]

"Forever"

✰—-summery: seungmin has been realizing that he wants a forever with you. Honestly in whatever way you’ll have him. And maybe little domestic things like kisses on cheeks, lacing fingers a shared lived in home and a big ass ring on your finger, but now so overcome with love, he’s coming to realize he also wants to breed you. He knows no kids are on the radar for now… but a guy can have a fantasy right? And a guy can dream right?

✰--- approx: 30 min read

✰--- A/n i really have noting to say. I’m gonna continue my smutober series in the coming couple weeks yall trust 🙏🏼I have a few more smut fics that I’ll be getting to over the next couple weeks so think of it as an expansion of my lil smutober;)

✰— warnings/info: kissing, smut with sort of a plot ig, cursing, fluffy lovey dovey, tooth rotting fluff basically, breeding kink, raw fucking (do as I say not as I do wrap before u tap yall) ummm sex dream? As always bad spelling. Think that’s it

~this is simply a piece of fiction. My imagination onto “paper.” This is in no way is mean to be taken as an actual and real representation of anyone.~

if you don’t have an age indicator saying you’re not a minor in your blog then I will be blocking you! So minors dni!!

•••••••••••••••••••••

Seungmin can't count how many times hes fallen in love with you. from every time you laugh to the way you smoothed our your shirt that one time and have never done it since but for some reason hes been thinking about for two months.

hes a guy of repetition. he likes having a routine, he loves that youre a part of it. and for him, thinking about you is always a part of it. but so much so that he sometimes finds himself daydreaming and distracted, he should be embarrassed, having to ask people to repeat themselves because "oh wow y/n likes that shade of green that they're wearing" but he really doesn't care. but at the same time you make him work that much harder. make him want to do better to either make you proud or impress you like some eighth grader he doesn't know.

he loves his job, he really does, but all he wants to do sometimes is come home to you. it makes him not only work faster sometimes but harder. maybe because he wants to be good enough and worthy for you and your love or maybe just because you bring that side out of him more than it already is. whatever it is he knows you just make him better. and its cheesy and mushy but you really do complete him

his arm looks better when you hold it, his pictures feel empty when youre not beside him, and you feel the same way too-- the bed always is unreasonably cold when he isn't behind you holding you close to his heart. or when hes not inside you, lets be honest.

he laughs at the members when they tease him about you having "girlfriend privileges". and tells him he doesn't see it. but at first he really didnt. now he sees it so well he hears it. he prides himself in making you happy, being the best boyfriend he can. thats one of the things you love about him he takes everything on with a passion, devoted to his goals.

sure he still pokes fun at you and is a lovely little menes but lets be real he lovey dovy with you a lot of the times too! and you get away with so much more with a lovesick puppy look on his face than anyone else. he wouldn't go all aspiring poet and say youve changed him but youve just... brought out another side of him. and as much as he gives you hard time you both know he loves it.

and you secretly love it when he says ew when you kiss him then he tackles you peppering your face with them a mintute later

the slight obsession with you is borderline concerning he thinks at this point-- once someone flirted with him at a bakery and the only thing he could think about was how they were standing in front of that dessert he knew you liked and he politely just asked them to move cause "I think Im gonna buy that for my parter I want to take a closer look". needless to say the person got the message.

though he didn't even fully realize they were flirting with him until he told you the story of how "a week ago when I was at that bakery someone was talking to me but I wasn't paying attention cause they were standing in front of the cold case." he though they were, with the over the top smiles and that little giggle. but sadly he was easily distracted by the thought of how "yn would like this"

The downside to how much he thinks of you is that at some point during the day if he isn't careful hes gonna get half hard. he feels like some pre pubescent boy that can't control himself and he hates it. nevertheless, the girlfriend privileges continue-- with the playful banter between you two and how much you tease him. not many other people could get away with poking seungmin in the cheek and saying "poke" for a full minute without him saying something.

in fact, hes smiling.

and not that youre complaining one bit when sees you after a long day and pounces on you, trying to rip your clothes off. but make no mistake, as stated before hes soft for you. well, mentally at least, cause most of the time he can't seem to control his boner around you. but all this overwhelming feelings of love has to go somewhere... right?

and it just so happens to be expressed and poured out so wonderfully in bed. you think you noticed it before he did, but there has been a pattern with him as of late--

it all started with a team a out you. noting too out of the ordinary. you started on top of him, as he helped you bounced on his cock, so hard and leaking for you. somehow you needed up beneath him after you came, but seungmin wasn't done yet, still pumping into you, somehow deeper than before trying to reach spots he never breached. "damn I love you so much. mhm, gonna fill you up" he breaths out in his dream. your eyes rolled into the back of your head in pleasure, "you gonna put a baby in me? please?" you moan, cupping his cheek and holding his hand in such a sweet and domestic way that it should offset the way he was filling you up with his cum, slipping out of you then plugging your pretty hole with his fingers, thrusting anything that leaked out back in. gotta make sure it takes right? make sure you get nice a round a swollen in a few months

but it didnt, the look of pure love you gave him as he was babbling about breeding you? fuck that really got to him. dream you wanted this too? dream you loved and trusted him so much and wanted forever with him just as he did with you? So when he woke up, still hard and cum leaving a dark stain on his boxers. he didnt know what to do. usually he'd know the answer or honestly go to you to help him. but this was... different, uncharted territory. sure there was always the thought of something like this in the back of his mind but it was never this strong. let alone had he ever had a dream about it.

He turns to the clock, 3:43 sharp and after tossing and turning, flipping his pillow over three times and realizing it felt better on the first side he still can’t fall asleep. He lets his eyes graze over your sleeping still figure, you’re faced away from him body covered by the blanket. But the curves and dips of your are still visible. It’s dark but he feels like he can still see you so clearly. He could probably feel every bit of your too over that thin little blanket. If you could even call it that I mean it wasn’t really doing much to warm you he was sure. That’s when he pulled you close by your middle, pressing your back up to is chest, his fingers dipping under your shirt like it always does when you two cuddle (though when you’re awake it sometimes slides higher than others) god your skin was cold.

He subconsciously moved you closer moving his hips flush with your ass. Though in hindsight that might’ve not been the best idea. Seeing as he was now fully hard from his dream and your body settling into his wasn’t doing him any good. “Min?” Did you really have to call him that right now? But against his better judgement since it very much was 3 am in the morning right now, he stayed glued next to you. “Min?” For once he fumbles, “yeah?” “I know you’re awake.” He bends his neck down to peck the top of your head “doesn’t mean you have to—“ “thank you, I was a little cold” you interrupt him while turning your body around to face him, hooking a leg over his”

well if you didn’t know before now you do. He thinks. “I was already half awake don’t worry,” he sighs “I figured” you smile at the fact that by now he knows all your little ins and outs all your little quirks. “You we’re kinda loud” you chuckle, and before he gets a chance to respond you’re reaching over him to turn on the light, it’s something so mundane so normal but somehow he’s still enamored by you. And with the way you’re basically on top of him, titties in his face he’s not getting soft anytime soon. “I think you’re hearing things.” He playfully scoffs “I think I should schedule you an ear appointment. My grandma knows a good one, maybe you can get matching hearing aids” you chuckle “and I think you still have a hard on”

that shut him up quick enough. you smile to yourself, you swear the man was all bark no bite sometimes when it came to you. seungmin glances over to the clock again. "sweetheart its so late its early..." he mumbles, sliding a not so sneaky little hand up your torso. his hands finds the side of your breast, then your collar bone, then settles back down on the neckline of your sleep shirt, playing with it.

"your dream sounded interesting," you peck his cheek and he flushes as if he didnt just dream about pumping you full of cum a second ago, "what was it about?" you ask, ignoring his comment about the time. you lace your fingers with his and he brings your hand with him under the blanket, settling it on his now painfully hard feeling cock straining against his boxers without a word, just that mischievous little devils grin.

you peck his lips this time, seungmin craining his head to chase you, lips still slightly smelling of that chapstick you always put on before bed. his tasting salty like the light sheen of sweat that coats his face from his dream. though you plan on making him much hotter in the next coming minutes. he pulls you back down to his lips by the back of your neck. a gentle but firm touch that mad you go crazy. the kisses are needy, lustful, but somehow also full of pure love and passion. he doesn't quite know how to express all the good that he feels for you, he isn't sure he ever will, but whenever he kisses you like this of late, he hopes his feelings will get through to you.

and you feel the emotion he pours into it when it happens, you really do. he pulls away a little later, never tired of kissing you and hand down in-between your legs rubbing your soaking pussy. "I just" he smiles through his gasps of air, "love you so much" it was sad really, that that was all he could say but he felt something for you that words cannot express in the English language, or Korean, or any language hes come across.

his eyes look like that one begging emoji. he just... he needs you to understand. he doesn't know why he just blurted it out. but you had just made this cute little face of pleasure. pleasure he was giving you. you felt good because of him. and it had just slipped out!

you didnt realize how much you wanted him, how desperate you were until in a matter of minutes youre gasping and whining for him. "fuck, breed me, make me yours" you say, barely over a whisper into his ear, chin on his shoulder. your sleep shirt bunched up around your hips that raped around his, his arms are laced behind your back, hugging you a keeping you close chest to chest as you bounce and rock yourself on his dick. so caught up in the moment, he misses the smirk on your face when you said it, blissfully unaware that you knew full well what he was dreaming about. and how hot you found it.

he whines, "no dont say that youre gonna make me cum... not--" he breaths out when your cunt tightens around him just so, "not now--" he already had you close to cumming earlier, when he was guiding your wt heat along his leg, grinding you on him. but he wanted to take care of you first ya know? be a gentleman. but he knew he wasn't going to last long if you kept talking like that. he reaches down to your core and swollen bud, rubbing it just how you like.

"well fill me up then min." you accentuate your words with a long, languid rock of yourself on him, his leaking cock hitting just where you want him to. god you feel so full, your eyes nearly roll into the back of your head thinking about how full you'd feel with all his warm seed inside you.

"no baby please dont say that either." his voice is strained, his words are lazy unlike how he usually sounds. thats hw you knew he was already close. "no please, I wanna feel so full." you pout, and his mind goes almost blank. he moves his free hand to your hip bone, guiding you as you impale yourself on his cock ever time you lift up and slam back down. though he wasn't really doing much guiding as he was mostly enjoying the soft squeeze of your skin, fingers on your plush thighs. he subconsciously nibbles at your collarbone, surely it'll leave a mark later you said you wanted him to make you his right?

"but you already have my cock in you baby. dont you feel it?" he wonders aloud, meeting your pumps up n' down with renewed vigor. "its so hard for you, god you make me so hard" you still your movements, letting him do most of the work thrusting up into your pussy, making wet squelching noises that fill the room.

"mmhm so big n' hard. cum inside me? I know you'd fill me up so good."

"oh god." that nearly sent him over the edge. you look down to where your bodies meet and his hand is rubbing you, fuck his hand looks delicious, fingers perfectly long and hand with veins popping out. "I need you to cum with me." and not long later you do. you cm hard, knees shaking and out of breath. you'd asked him to cum inside and thats what he does. you feel your insides flood with warmth. damn he must've cum a lot.

he stays inside for a moment and is about to pull out when you stop him, hand on his bicep, "keep it inside." you tell him, and this time he catches your smirk. And seungmin just laughs, kissing your neck in a manner so sweetly you almost forget about his dick inside you. “You heard my dream?” Though he already knew. “Mmhm” “I love you so much” his nose presses into your neck “I wanna spend forever with you” “aw me too min” “hm was it good for you then too?” “So you didn’t hear me moaning for you? Guess not” you tease and he scoffs. “I did. And I think the neighbors heard too. We’ll have to talk more in the morning and do some googling I guess. But thank you” “you’re thanking me now?” You laugh. “Yeah I—“ “I think it’s hot too don’t worry. That’s why I want you to stay inside. We want it to take huh baby” he shivers, running his palm up your spine.

seungmin was a reasonable guy, he knew that this was alll fantasy and having kids wasn't on your radar right now. but he still loved it. He didn’t know what it was, maybe it was just you two growing together, growing intertwined. But as of late, he’s just been wanting or maybe finally realizing just how much he loves and cares for you. how much he wants with you. seungmin hasn't really thought of it before, but maybe he wants and already cherishes those cute little things with you-- like the kisses on cheeks when one of you greet the other at the door, the waking up next to each other at dawn, and everything in-between.

and maybe one day, if you'll let him, he wants to put a big ass ring on your finger. well, some day.

and you loved it too. And him. The way he took his time with you no matter what it is no matter if he already did it a thousand times. Just like a second ago, he caressed every curve and did of your body. Constantly wanted his hands on you, kissing from your neck to your lips over and over.

“Why are you so silent? Don’t you want it too honey?” He smiles from ear to ear “ugh sweetheart you’re amazing” he mumbles before kissing your lips.

~end

thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed please leave some love like comments or a reblog if you did!

[grapejuicestyless]

Stupid F-ing Tattoo

JJ Maybank x Fem!reader

Summery: Y/n and JJ both had a few things in common. One, love didn’t exist. And two, they both wanted her dead.

She wasn’t dead, but sometimes, he wished she was.

It was honestly fucked up, there was no silver lining. She hadn’t wronged him, or cheated, or lied. She was as guilty as a fish, and he was the shark. But he still wished she was dead.

Sometimes, JJ wondered if she wished the same thing. If some nights, if she ever were to by chance hear his laughter in a passing moment, maybe with his head hung out the back window of the Twinkie like she used to do, or in a lazy jog away from the cops, he wondered if she wished he would also, drop off the face of the earth to give her some peace.

Then he would remember that even though it didn’t feel like it, he had won. Because she had no peace, and he was certain she never would. While he was up all night wishing her to be gone, she was up all night praying for the same thing.

She often told him that the only things keeping her going were him and her dog, but mostly her dog. An old white dog, a stray she’d taken in when she was merely seven. He was as crusty as they get, and while he and his friends often joked about how gross the old thing was, she happily scratched behind his ears and reminded him of how good he was always.

But the dog was getting old, and JJ had long been extracted from her life. Sometimes he wondered if his prayers meant something, and then he would get on his knees and take them all back in a guilty sob. Because JJ didn’t want her to die, he just hated the fact that he had fallen in love with someone who couldn’t fathom love more than he ever doubted it.

JJ felt like an asshole. What kind of person prays for another persons death? Especially someone like her?

He figured he liked her so much because they were so alike. Like the seasons, they were the coolest winters and the sweltering summer all at once. They were so close, yet so far. Like January and December. Born with the same love and loyalty, but destined to fall apart, prophets forced to be divided.

His finger hovered over her contact every night, but every time he thought of how she would answer, and his tongue would go dry. She would probably only say hello, and he would say it back, and the line would go quiet for a few minutes, just breathing in each others inhales, aligning his breath to hers, and then she would ask him why he was calling. He would say he didn’t know, but he hoped she was well, and she would wish the same for him because she always did, and she always meant it more because she never wished that he was dead. Then, she would ask if it was okay to let him go, and he would ramble about something and how it was all dumb to begin with. She would listen and then the line would go dead. Dead like how he sometimes wanted her.

He couldn’t bear the idea of letting her go again, even if he didn’t realize he had the first time.

They had just gotten matching tattoos. “P4L” poked into their ankles until the skin swelled red and even air burned. They were fucked, and it was a dumb idea.

JJ said it was the stupidest fucking tattoo he’d ever gotten. She had laughed, playfully pushing his arm away and setting the needle down.

“You don’t have any other tattoos.” She reminded him softly, eyes shining in the moonlight. The twinkles reminded him of the north star, and he felt that he too found home in the same way.

“Not yet.” He promised her, his fingers slotting between hers. “I’m gonna get your name tattooed right across my palm so I can hold you eternity.” JJ smiled, proud at his use of larger words. He’d felt like a poet then, smiling from ear to ear at himself, a dork by textbook definition.

“Well, then I’m going to get your name tattooed on my lips, so I have every reason to talk about you.” She promised him, and JJ remembered the look in her eyes, he knew it from the way John B looked at Sarah and the way Pope’s dad looked at his mom. He knew it was love.

He should never have confessed it.

He knew better than anyone that her mothers neglect had beaten her heart black and blue, and her cousins hatred towards her and her friends who had bullied her, he knew that much like him, love was a construct of some sort of fantasy, a promise of forever that could never be fulfilled, because eventually, someone has to leave.

She laughed, and then she cried. She promised JJ that she also loved him, loved him like a dog loved its owner, unwavering and loyal. But there was no way in hell she could ever love him the ways he wanted, and that hurt JJ because he had spent weeks working up the courage to even come to terms with his very real feelings.

“I can’t love you, JJ. I do, but I can’t because I can’t even promise myself that forever. I’ll break my own heart and I’ll blame you.” She had explained with tears streaming down her face. He regretted the way he yelled at her.

They never spoke again. His best friend, and the love of his life, her voice became a concept in his mind, and he swore that he had forgotten the sweetness of her smell. He hated that because that meant he was just like everyone else. Just another person who would miss her when she went.

So, he started wishing death on her. More for himself, until it became a prayer for her. She never laughed anymore, never smiled. When he saw her from afar, he’d noticed that she’d gone back to her friends she hated because suffering is better than loneliness when all you can think about is the quickest way to go.

He saw a girl floating in the ocean the a few days into the summer, her hair resembled Y/n’s and her eyes did too. It was only when he saw the way she seemed to fold herself into the water he knew it was her because only she would have the drive to try and let the ocean swallow her whole.

JJ ran as fast as he could out, wading through the crashing waves until he could wrap his arms around her. She was wet, cold, and limp. A hollow version of the woman she once was. It reminded JJ that she was just a girl, the same age as him, and he once again, felt guilty for ever wishing death on her.

When he laid her in the sand, he knew two things.

One, on her skin, she had another small tattoo scribbled down to memorize her love forever. His name, just two little letters, the same one, poked into her shoulder in the same font as their matching tattoo.

“Stupid fucking tattoo.” He cried, gritting his teeth together, his hands searching her body for any warmth he could cling to, a sign that maybe he hadn’t seen her too late.

The second thing he knew, through his salty tears and guilty heart, was something he prayed he would never have to witness, but something he had always wished for.

His prayers had been answered.

[bitethedevil]

I swear, I’m minutes away from pulling out a giant bulletin board and covering it in pieces of string that connect Rafael to every single event in the game. I feel like a crazy person, but I know that he basically spiderwebbed most of the plot together.



Goddamn it, anon (said lovingly). Now I feel like making my own too. Because I swear, he pops up all over the place, even just for stuff that’s not even plot relevant.

Spot the Devil: Raphael's Involvement in the plot

I’ll start out with letters and books I’ve found that made me go “hmmmm”.

Letter in the Harpy Nest (Maybe)

When you’ve saved Mirkon he mentions something about a nest nearby. If you get to it there is a ring, a journal, and a letter. The letter is what made me go “hmm”. You can read the full thing here. Basically, a guy named Edmund tells wife/girlfriend that she doesn’t have to worry about someone named Maggie Two-Fingers anymore, because he has settled a debt. To pay off said debt, he makes a deal with a cambion and becomes a warlock:

”[…] I took the deal the cambion offered. I'm not going to say I had no choice, because that would be a lie. But I don't regret it. I'm a new man. I feel strong for the first time in my life. Aside from being awoken in the middle of the night by the smell of sulphur (he likes to drop by to 'see how everything is going') I have no complaints […]”

Now, there was a journal too, but I don’t believe the two things were related, even though the journal talks about a devil too. From what I can see, the journal is an easter egg for a campaign called ‘Tomb of Annihilation’. Besides, Edmund is going to Icewind Dale and the campaign takes place in Chult.

It just makes sense to me if its Raphael. We know he hangs out near the grove because we get jumpscared by him before going to this area. It could be our boy and with how much he pops up constantly it wouldn’t surprise me.

A Pleasurable Deal (Maybe)

You can pry this theory from my cold dead hands: Raphael was involved in making this play. It stinks of him.

So, A Pleasurable Deal is an erotic play. The plot isn’t completely written out, but a cambion, who is named Carlisle in the play, is involved.

“Carlisle: Weep not, young man, though free your wife has fled,

And comfort found in comrade's arms and bed.

She licks her lips and cries his name, oh my!

And now you seek to be the apple of her eye?”

Carlisle basically helps a man named Robert get a bigger dick, or…something along those lines. The ”apple of her eye” line is just so Raphael. The whole thing is, to be honest. In the A Pleasurable Deal: The Shocking Truth, it’s revealed that the author sold her soul to make it:

“Interviewer: So .. what was your deal?

Harp: I beg your pardon?

Interviewer: In fact, this was your directorial debut, wasn't it? You couldn't even get published in the tabloid 'Baldur's Bash' before this play came out. Did you honestly trade your soul for an erotic play?

Harp: I- all right, we're done here.”

I mean, come on. This is so him. It’s right up his alley.

Devil Don’t Rhyme

This is a book you can find in the Devil’s Den. Devil Don’t Rhyme is definitely about him:

“[This is a heroic fantasy in verse form, told in the first person by a bold poet who challenges a devil (clearly modelled on Raphael) to an improvised poetry contest to win back the soul of his lover. The following couplet has been circled in red ink.]

'If the line doesn’t scan,' the devil sneers, 'you forfeit your soul and end in tears.' / 'Ha! I’ll keep my time and make my rhyme, with vim and snap and no "down came the claw" crap.'”

Which is just so fucking funny to me. He has been seething and underlining the parts that prove it’s about him.

Alright, onto actual events: Netheril

Raphael was there when Netheril fell. He told us in the Devil’s Den. He has been searching for the Crown of Karsus ever since. He saw the entirety of Karsus’s fuck-up, but didn’t manage to snatch up the Crown of Karsus itself. We do know, however, that he has other Netherese artifacts (the Archivist says so). The Regalia of Karsus were three objects and Raphael has at least one, meaning that if Raph gets the crown, he has a much bigger chance at actually controlling it and using it like it's supposed to be used. This might also be why Mephistopheles hasn't used it: he doesn't have the other artifacts to properly harness its powers.

There are also theories that he has been skulking about and trying to find it after. There’s a really well written theory by @firlionemoontav that connects him to Lenore from the Arcane Tower in the Underdark. He has left no stone unturned.

Orpheus and Vlaakith

I learned about this from an amazing theory post made by @certifieddilfenjoyer

When you go to the Astral Plane, near Orpheus, there is this Githyanki slate that you can find. It depicts Vlaakith making a deal with a Devil, “his face twisted with wry charm”, for the Astral prism. Yeah, Orpheus’ imprisonment? Raphael helped with that. He even taunts Orpheus while he waits for us to approach him and says something about him looking good in chains or something along those lines (kinky old man yaoi).

And honestly, it makes perfect sense as to why he has the hammer then. The hammer has multiple purposes, but in About Creation of the Orphic Hammer he mentions it as “insurance policy”:

“The Hammer is not a weapon, it is an insurance policy. Its function is specific, but its utility is boundless. No chains forged by infernal hand can withstand its power, for its core is a metalifferous compound combining the purest of essence of all Nine hells. If I should ever need to liberate the prisoners held in the Iron City of Dis, to shatter the vaults of Nargus, or even to free the child of Gith, my hammer will be equal to the task.”

Makes good sense because what he has done with the Astral Prism is a pretty big deal and hard to undo otherwise.

Moonrise Towers, the Gauntlet of Shar and Astarion

So, Raphael makes a deal with the architect of Moonrise Towers, who you also see wandering around the House of Hope. The architect gives up his soul in exchange for Raphael ending Ketheric’s army.

To do that, he sends Yurgir who is tasked with killing every last justiciar. Raphael then makes a deal with one of the justiciars who he then turns into a bunch of rats so that Yurgir can’t fulfill his contract.

We then help Yurgir or kill him, and Raphael helps us with Astarion’s scars. (This is just me theorizing from here) I find it kind of interesting that Raphael seems to know so much about Astarion. You get the feeling that he has obviously done his research on all of the companions, but with Astarion he makes that nasty “you’ve kept your clothes on this entire time? How unlike you” comment. Astarion would be such an easy target to go after, which makes me believe that Raph definitely knew beforehand about Astarion AND Mephistopheles’ deal with Cazador, but he hasn’t been able to pettily do something about it before the things that happen in BG3. But he has kept an eye on it. He can’t be seen defying his father like that directly, after all. I just find it hard to believe that Raph wouldn't jump at the business opportunity of 7000 desperate vampires hiding in Baldur's Gate. Like he definitely knows.

Gortash

Raphael bought Gortash from his parents when he was a kid, and Gortash eventually got out. It’s quite possible that Gortash only knew about the Crown of Karsus because of Raphael. He even went through Raphael’s house to steal the crown (and probably took a portal from there to Cania).

Might also be the only reason that he would ever make a deal with Zariel. He knows the Hells and how they work. In a way its even more of a “fuck you” that he goes to Zariel because she is far above Raphael as she is the Archdevil of Avernus (and thus she is sort of Raph’s boss). We also don't know what Gortash gets in return for handing Karlach to Zariel. It's speculated that it has something to do with the construction of the Steel Watch, but it wouldn't surprise me if peace from Raphael was a part of it too.

A world without Raphael

So, basically: had Raphael not been there, Orpheus would be free and a whole people would have had very different lives under someone else than the Vlaakiths, because Orpheus would have rebelled and told everyone what she did to Gith (his mother). We wouldn’t have had the Astral Prism to protect us, but on the other hand, we might not even have had the whole tadpole business to deal with anyway if Gortash didn’t know where the Crown of Karsus was. The whole thing could literally have been avoided.

(Thank you for the ask <3)

[makethatelevenrings]

Day 12: Phone Sex w/ Roy Kent

Kinktober Masterlist

“Hi.”

You huffed out a laugh at the placid greeting and settled back against the pillows propped up against the headboard. The soft cotton of Roy’s old sweatshirt brushed against your skin and you relished in the enveloping scent of him.

“Hi big guy. Good game out there.”

“Fucking cold,” he grunted. “Pretty sure my dick had reverted and is fucking my lungs.”

A startled laugh escaped you and you shook your head. Such a poet.

“Well, you looked good. Wish I was there to warm you up.”

He sighed. “Fucking wish you were here too, love. This bed is too empty.”

“Only two more nights. We’ve survived longer than that.”

“I know. I’m still going to bitch about it.”

“I would be concerned if you didn’t.”

Silence met you, but you weren’t worried. It was common for the two of you to fall asleep with the phone line still open. After sleeping next to one another for so many years, even the presence of Roy over the crackly phone line settled something in your chest.

“What are you wearing?” His gruff voice had a hint of teasing to it and you chuckled, fingering the hem of his sweatshirt.

“Your old Sunderland crew,” you answered honestly. “And no pants.”

He groaned, low and deep and pleased. “Bet you look like a right fucking treat.”

“I look like a mess. I’ve been cleaning the house all afternoon.”

“What I’d give to be home right now. I’d bend you over the island and fuck you right there.”

Heat rushed through your veins at the thought and you hummed. “Yeah? The idea of me wearing your clothes gets you that hard?”

He chuckled. “Love, the idea of you wearing my clothes makes me want to hop onto the next flight.”

You parted your legs and slid your hand down your stomach, over the soft hair on your navel, and down, down, down to slide across the growing wet patch on your underwear. You whimpered at the light brush and Roy let out an appeasing grunt.

“Touching yourself, aren’t you? That’s it, sweet girl. You deserve this. Working so hard when I’m not home. Wish I was there to take care of you.”

“Roy…” You started to rub slow circles over your clit, your lips parting in a broken moan. “God, Roy. I wish you were here.”

His voice was further from the phone now and you suspected he had put you on speaker. The sound of a bottle opening met your ears and your breathing hitched as you realized what he was doing. What you would give to see him right now. A sheen of sweat clinging to his tanned skin, muscles flexing as he reached down to grasp his hard cock, and perfect hands stroking himself… the idea made your clit throb.

“I’d throw it all away if it meant staying at home with you forever,” he murmured. Roy inhaled deeply and you could hear the slick sound of his lube covered hand sliding along his shaft. “I’d give it all up if it meant seeing you everyday.”

“Come home, baby. I’ll meet you at the door and wear your old jersey. You’d like that, you possessive caveman. Your name, your ring, your cum on me.”

He groaned and you could hear his speed pick up. “Yeah. Fuck yeah. I’d cum all over those pretty little tits of yours. Lick it off of you and then fill up your pretty little cunt.”

You increased your pressure and whined. “Fill me up, Roy. Fuck me like you mean it.”

“Such a dirty mouth on you. If you mouthed off, I’d have to gag you on my cock.”

“Yeah? You’d choke me on your big dick?”

His breathing hitched and he let out that rough whine you loved so much. You loved having this power over him. Roy gasped out a heaving breath and then finally spoke once more.

“I’d take you to our room and fuck you into the mattress until the only word you could say was my name.” You whimpered as the knot of pleasure in your gut started to tighten. “And then I’d draw you a bath and take care of you. Because you’re the love of my life, darling, and I find myself so lucky and grateful to be able to come home to a woman like you.”

Fuck. You should not be tearing up at the same time as your orgasm charged through you. A whiny exhale left you as pleasure washed over your muscles until the contractions stopped and you were able to relax against the mattress.

“I love you, Mr. Kent,” you whispered into the phone.

“I love you too, Mrs. Kent.”

“Two days.”

“Fuck that. I’m throwing the game and coming home to you right now.”

You barked out a laugh and shook your head. “No the fuck you are not. I’ve got money on you fuckers.”

[kathleen-koi]

More EA spoilers bc omg

“Now open your eyes Darlin, watch what your magic can do”

OMG SAMUAL COLLINS YOU FUCKER

“I’m not a poet” THEN WHAT ARE YOU SR BECAUSE YOU ARE FLUENT IN POETRY YOU PULL THAT OUT WITH NO HESITATION NO THOUGHT JUST TALKING LIKE NORMAL

That is my new favorite line ever omg I’m never gonna move past this

OMG he’s so in love with Darlin it unbelievable I honestly thought this was gonna be a fucking proposal audio by the way it was going

[multiheadcanons]

I BROKE MY OWN HEART. THE MERCS AS TORTURED POETS

scout: i had to go back and listen to the album again to solidify this choice, but i think scout does get the title track, the tortured poets department! something about the lyric “who uses typewriters anyway?” is very much scout. and i love how fast the song is but it’s also so touching and vulnerable and frankly, the absolute ache in taylor’s voice. but also the instrumental is like… a cute, fun bop. love it, and i think it’s a perfect fit for our bostonian.

soldier: i almost think it’s funny. did you know taylor actually wrote who’s afraid of little old me FOR soldier? and if you can get past the fact that the start up sounds like the b-side to the greatest showman and get to that bridge… god it eats. though frankly— “you don’t get to tell me about sad”? soldier said that. soldier said that to taylor. but the biggest one, aside from the visual of seeing soldier burst into a room and yell “who’s afraid of little old me?” the biggest lyric that made the decision for me is “i am what i am cause you trained me.” that’s literally… such a banger. this woman is a poet.

pyro: pyro gets florida!!! i’m not super excited to say that, that’s the title. don’t let it mislead you. the LONG AWAITED collaboration with florence + the machine; who doesn’t love a song about abandoning your mistakes and running away instead of dealing with the repercussions of your actions? we sure do! there’s quite literally no better way to avoid your problems than becoming an arsonist mercenary. you make your favorite crime your whole thing, it works out great! and pyro will never have to think about what came before this, and nothing will ever come after this. fuck them up!

demo: demoman gets the opening track, fortnight. if demo listened to this track, i have zero doubts he would break down in tears. it’s too easy for him to switch out whether he’s talking about genevieve or her husband. the secret of the affair coming out irrevocably damaged his relationship with the doctor. and he’s unashamed to admit that the doctor was one of his closest confidants. he damn near loved that man. and sometimes he looks at that man and sees her. sometimes he says things in her inflection. and he just can’t reach out to him anymore like that. it makes him want to throw up.

heavy: fun fact, heavy is actually the reason this post exists. i think heavy is literally exactly what taylor was talking about when she speaks of “tortured poets”. i think that’s heavy and heavy is a tortured poet with the best of them. i think if the man’s first language was english he would straight up be shakespeare. but if his first language was english he wouldn’t be the man we love. anyway. heavy gets what i can arguably call my favorite song on the entire double album— guilty as sin? the diaristic writing just makes me think of this one post i saw that back in the day it was common to proclaim without a shadow of a doubt your love for someone in writing in russia, and i never let that go. at this point i don’t even care if i hallucinated it. also, just something about the lyric “am i allowed to cry?” like i don’t know misha, are you? are any of us?

engineer: some would say this song is the quintessential taylor swift country song. and honestly, i slept on it. not gonna lie. but daddy i love him IS the quintessential country taylor swift song, mature in manifest. it captures her absolute ability to just write fairytales. her sense of optimism. her comfort found in romance. and i love taylor for that. and those traits very easily translate to engineer, just differently applied! eternally good natured, with an ability to just make his machines almost come to life. even the crazy, infeasible ones. he just has that air about him.

medic: oh, he definitely gets i can do it with a broken heart. this man did not escape his fair share of suffering. and he stood against it every time. he is a god amongst men. i think there’s something very poignant about the lyric “all the pieces of me shattered as the crowd was chanting ‘MORE!’” and i think it frankly sums up the medic in a dozen words. and i’m not even gonna spoil this one, just— go listen to the song all the way to the end. tell me that’s not the doctor. look me in my fucking eyes.

sniper: this was kind of hard, im gonna give sniper the prophecy. it’s the tone of the prophecy that solidified it for me. i think the more solemn howling of this one, as opposed to what i would’ve initially given him, fits much better. the prophecy is one of my personal all time favorite songs to cry to. i’m actually crying to it right now. there is something about begging the powers that be in your life to give you a sign, give you anything, anything that will tell you that the ache is worth it. it never comes.

spy: this was also kind of hard, because i could’ve switched spy’s and sniper’s and felt just fine about it, but i finally decided spy gets i look in people’s windows. this song… i love this song so much. it’s almost cheeky, but when you listen to it it is very clearly not cheeky. that is the sound of someone who hates themselves so much it’s funny at that point. they’re so sick of themselves and their inability to seemingly get the fuck over things; no matter how hard they try to just be over it. it just doesn’t work.

A LITTLE EXTRA

scout’s ma: the smallest man who ever lived. this is an absolute masterpiece, a genuine gem on this double album. and y’all know she was in the pit at eras, right? like, she was there. she scalped merch with the best of them. and i want you to do yourself a favor, cause i don’t want to spoil what i could arguably say is taylor’s magnum opus. and if you don’t listen to any other song, give this one a shot. and come back and see the vision. she was screaming this.

[morningstargirl666]

hi! do you have any long canon klaroline fic recommendations?

i’m missing klaroline and actual canon isn’t gonna cut it

I'm going to assume by long fics you mean multichaps? I've always found this fandom seems to be lacking in them, and I'm not talking about the 5-10 chapter fics --- I mean the long ass, epic-length fics that transport you to another dimension and rob you of nine hours of your life in a back-alley because you couldn't close the ao3 page at 1am. Other fandoms seem to have dozens of them but klaroline? Not so much. Writers here seem to prefer the 50k one-shots or playing with a different AU altogether, which is fantastic of course, but sometimes you crave something different, you know? Something you can lose youself in. It's what made me write TBBW, initially. However, that doesn't mean the fandom doesn't have some canon-divergent gems.

Epic-Length Wonders:

Red Queen by KS_Caster / @ks-caster

3-Part Series, Over 200k+ words. Season 4 Canon-Divergent. The last part is a WIP. I absolutely adored this fic when I first read it and I still adore it now. Klaus puts Caroline first and continues to put her first during the search for Silas' cure and it is fucking amazing. The werewolf/hybrid world building in the second fic inspired me to write more fics like it. It's not had as much attention since it was moved to AO3, but trust me, this fic is a hidden gem.

Wicked Schemes by willowaus / @willowaus

30 Chapters, 260k+ words. Season 1 TO Canon-Divergent. Ignores the baby plot. Caroline inherits the powers of a harbringer and the way its weaved into the fic so flawlessly makes you question if it wasn't just canon to begin with. Honestly epic world building. Wolf!Klaus also makes an appearance! A true klaroline classic.

make them bow. by for_darkness_shows_the_stars / @stars-and-darkness

35 Chapters, 220k+ words. Season 1 Canon-Divergent. Klaus is dropped into season one while Caroline is still human. Klefan bromance. Damon retribution. Forbes family dynamics. Klaus covered in blood. Council Members and Founding Family warfare. There's a reason this is the most commented-on fic in the entire fandom even though it's barely been out a year.

Binge-In-One-Sitting Multichaps:

Til I Tasted You by KiryTheStitchWitch / @kirythestitchwitch

4 Chapters, 22k. Canon Divergent/Soulmate AU. Will ruin you with single most devastating declaration of love in existence, forewarning you now.

throw roses into the abyss by marxandangels / @marxandangels

7 Chapters, 99k+. WIP. Technically Season 6 Canon-Divergent (after Liz dies) but ignores canon for the most part, especially TO wise. Explores the concept of humanity-less vampires so well, with a dash of world building on the side. Klaus and Caroline's relationship is also explored with such nuance --- like these two aren't just attracted to each other but entwined by their very souls, kind of nuanced. Oh, and the bloodsharing scene drawn by here by @stardust414 lives rent-free in my mind.

Someone's First Choice by unpublishednovelist

10 Chapters, 29k+. Post-Canon. This one's a WIP but I'm keeping my eye on it because it's good. Like hella good. Caroline decides to say fuck it and goes with some college friends to New Orleans for Mardi Gras, accomadation covered by our favourite Original hybrid. She breaks up with Tyler over voicemail. Queen shit.

All I Need by emeraldvixen

14 Chapters, 60k, E rated. Canon-Divergent/Wolf Mate AU. In the mood for some hot and steamy smut? Emeraldvixen's got you covered.

the fate makes for a lousy poet by for_darkness_shows_the_stars / @stars-and-darkness

7 Chapters, 50k+. Season 3 Canon-Divergent/Soulmate AU. The Originals in pajamas. Need I say more?

Who put Bella down the Wynch Elm? by for_darkness_shows_the_stars / @stars-and-darkness

7 Chapters, 60k+. Post-Canon. A murder mystery whodunnit with original side characters and Caroline in all her bad ass glory, after she's left Mystic Falls and its hellmouth-worthy shenanigans. Just - for a minute - imagine canon expanded on the tvd universe and revisted the fact the Originals are little more than nightmarish stories in the supernatural world, or that Stefan is the most infamous mass murderer on the east coast and maybe you'll understand how amazing this fic is.

Important to note these were all specifically Canon-Divergent multichaps. There's plenty more gems out there, just for different AUs and lengths. I also only looked at my ao3 bookmarks for this, so like, I'm probably forgetting several.

[sweaty-toothed-mad-woman]

✨ INTRO POST ✨

I’m Kat 👋

(((ik some people put the stuff that’s important in like a specific color but this is kinda just a jumble of random stuff so nothing is really important ngl)))

this blog is pretty much entirely Dead Poets Society, but I sometimes integrate my current obsessions into my posts, so be aware of that

my yapping blog: @barbaric-yap

my writing blog: @gather-ye-fucking-rosebuds (I only have one thing tho lol)

MY FAV THINGS (kinda random ass things tbh)

My fav color is ice blue

My fav movie is DPS and FBDO

My fav artist is Taylor Swift

My fav song is Shake It Off

My fav school subject is science

My fav number is 9, 21, or 47

My fav show is Psych

My fav book is Kotlc or Harry Potter

My fav actor is Matt Damon

My fav yt channel is Kallmekris

My fav snack is Doritos

SOME THINGS ABOUT ME

#undiagnosedautismandadhdandanxiety

Aroace and proud of it

my pronouns are she/her

Sports I do: soccer, basketball, flag football, cross country, tap, jazz, and ballet

Instruments I play: cello, piano, and (kinda) guitar

Clothes I wear: sporty/ athletic or just comfy

i have three irl friends but I get along w everyone so idk if it’s REALLY three friends

I probably need therapy but I don’t feel like it and also my parents don’t believe in therapy so there’s that

Have I mentioned how much I love Ferris buellers day off??? Bc honestly I might like it more than dps (don’t sue me)

I sleep with a stuffed animal dog named Bennett

When I grow up I wanna be a chemist at nasa

idk what else to put sooo

my bestiesssss

@reputation-girlfriend

@snek-of-eden

@prettypinkbubbless

@soobiesworld

@sophie-jane-silver

@anderscuns

@the-undead-poets-society

@dreadedwhim

@yawping-poets-society

@filmbro-girlblogger

@thiamblogger

(lemme know if you wanna be added I need more friends lol)

spam my ask box pleeeeeeeeeease I’m bored 90% of my free time

carpe diem, bitches. go seize the day and sound your barbaric yawps while gathering ye rosebuds and sucking out all the marrow of life.

[woozisguitar]

SEVENTEEN members as songs from ttpd (from the first drop)

s.coups- i can do it with a broken heart

starting off slightly sad but he’s a real tough kid and he can definitely handle anything.

i think I saw an edit of him somewhere to this and cried

i’m seriously so proud of him always

taylor did write this for all the eldest daughters/ siblings

just super coups coded

jeonghan- fortnight ft. post malone

“your wife waters flowers i want to kill her” peak jeonghan vibes. he would commit a crime for funsies <3

also “i love you, it’s ruining my life” because man did he def ruin my life

tell me one jeonghan fan who’s mentally stable, we’re all a little crazy (myself included)

insanity and everything packed in one fr

joshua- fresh out the slammer

HE IS THE PRETTIEST BABY EVER OKAY

i too would go to jail for him

i’d also never lose my baby again

honestly him and jeonghan are both interchangeable, they’re both pretty and insane

OH! and i’d also disappear for a glimpse of his smile like fr fr my joshy :((((

jun- the tortured poets department

who’s gonna know him and love him if not me??

we’re also modern idiots and slightly crazy

OH! also the bridge is so junnie coded like honestly anything he does makes me feel like my heart will explode so

junnie is everything in this song minus the tats and drugs he's my precious boy <3

hoshi- but daddy i love him

the way i’d actually scream this song for him

also the vibes are so hoshi like im 90% sure he’d vibe with this song so hard

especially when she says "im having his baby no im not" he's ijboling right then and there

idk man it’s just so hoshi and i would definitely fight my dad for him

wonwoo- loml

he is actually so loml coded

like soft, played in a piano kind vibes

especially nana tour wonu

just very soft

he’s the love of my life and loss of my life as well because there’s actually no man that’s ever gonna be like him, ruined men for me

woozi- down bad

are we like actually surprised tho? that's my fav song and he is my fav boy

this man is literally so down bad coded

i’ve been singing and thinking of him like fuck it if I can’t have him, but i will definitely die not like tis gonna make a difference

IM LIKE SO IN LOVE WITH HIM OH MY GOD

also crying at the gym = lee jihoon (in reference to that one t-shirt he wore during caratland 2023)

minghao- so long, london

not the lyrical but mostly the vibes

this song is kinda calming to me in a way and it feels so hao like

also it reminds me hai cheng in a way maybe because of all the ship metaphors

i also feel like he’s appreciated the sadness in this song

he has that certain same whimsy as this song

mingyu- guilty as sin?

GUILTY AS SIN IS HIS SONG OKAY?!?!?

I WILL CHOOSE HIM AND ME RELIGIOUSLY ANYDAY

physically feeling sick how that bridge is literally so mingyu coded like holy fuck like gonna crucify me anyways? the way you hold me is actually what's holy??? its literally him

truly the best way to die is loving him

okay i’ll stop here before I die, he is just so <3

dokyeom- who’s afraid of little old me?

simply because he is such a nice person and such a lovely soul i worry people might take him for granted

the industry does not give him enough credit for him vocals like they should be scared of him he can eat up any vocalist in seconds

like they should be afraid of him that he's so goofy and silly

also the musical vibes here truly a kyeomie song

seungkwan- the alchemy

ALL THOSE SPORTS REFERENCE ARE FOR HIM!!!

my babiest boy ever

“where’s the trophy? he just comes running over to me” I CANNOT PUT ENOUGH EMPHASIS HOW SEUNGKWAN THIS IS

my heart will truly always be reserved for him

also he did make the strongest comeback fr

vernon- florida!!!

honestly, vernon’s favourite song here would be florida like fr

it’s just so vernon

he’d like eat up the featured and the beat right when she screams florida!!!!

13/10 would plan a trip to florida and brag how he's been to two places wtny and florida

the vibes are just so vernon fr idk what else to say

dino- clara bow

future of kpop, need I say more?

he’s like all the past legends but more better?

kinda like how she talks about it in the song, with the next being slightly better than the previous and yk what they've been through and stuff

and how dino is also called the future of kpop because he's so amazing

“the future’s bright, dazzling” so real like that’s literally about the future of kpop

anyways that's my take <33 I might do a part 2 with the second drop songs (no promises!!)

you can also find this thread on my twt here.

[strixamans]

Find the word tag

I was so excited to be tagged in this one! Thank you, @vividiana.

rules: I'll give you five words. Find the word (or closest approximation you can) in your works and post an excerpt. Tag others to play and give them new words too!

My words: alive, frown, gasp, hesitate, water

(happy to do more words, if I get tagged again 😁)

alive

“They’re all being so… nice to me,” he says. “Relentless taunting aside, of course.” "Oh, I don't know," I say back, a little smug. “I think they like you.” Astarion snorts. “You, they like. They only tolerate me for your sake.” I pull my head back a little, to reply, “That’s not true, and you know it.” He sighs. “Well, I wasn’t looking for love when I joined up with you lot, and I certainly wasn’t looking for… friends. Not real ones, anyway.” “You don’t hate it, though.” “Perhaps not. But if you tell them that, I’ll eat you alive.” “Don’t make it sound so tempting,” I say, giggling, while he nips gently at my neck. “Not that I need an excuse to eat you all up again...”

from chapter 17 of Hunting Creatures

frown

I don't have any frowns! So I'm going with 'grimace', instead.

“That’s the one, is it? I was wondering why you had that unusual dagger on you...” He doesn’t appear dismayed, but rather intrigued, picking up the dagger to inspect it. “It’s funny… I don’t recall ever having seen it before last night. And I’m not sure I would have recognized it now, if you hadn’t told me. I was so caught up… But it must have been the same one he used back then—you know, for the sigils…” He trails off, reading the blade’s inscription. “Rhapsody… How ironic. But we can’t help our past, now, can we?”  He considers the dagger in silence, for a moment—then exhales sharply and says, with a sardonic grimace, “I may have told you that Cazador fancied himself a poet. Sometimes, he’d make us listen to him recite it, and gods… I can’t honestly say it was the worst of his torments, but it certainly wasn’t far off.”  With a chuckle, he extends his arm to feel the dagger’s weight in his hand, turning it over a few times. Admiring it. He actually looks pleased. “A lovely, nasty little blade, isn’t she? And a fitting souvenir, I suppose. A trophy, perhaps... I think I’ll keep her, actually.” Lowering the blade, he leans in to kiss my cheek, and takes the sheath from my hand. "Thank you, darling."

from chapter 16 of Hunting Creatures

gasp

Oh man, so Jury Duty has a lot of gasps to choose from. But I think this is a fun one.

Her compliance is instinctual—she isn’t entirely sure why she’s doing it, at first, bending forward to rest her arms on the desk in front of her. She’s new to this sort of thing. But the instant she feels his hands on the backs of her thighs, she understands. He takes his time, sliding his hands up her legs. “You do understand that it is your civic duty to give your full attention to the proceedings, don’t you?” The heat building between them, though, is urgent.  “Yes,” she replies. And as he flexes the fingers of one hand to dig his nails into her skin, she gasps, “Your honor!” “That’s right, darling,” he says. You will address me properly.” She keeps her eyes fixed ahead. “Of course, your honor.” He goes on, “And you do understand that there are consequences, should you fail to perform your civic duties as the court requires. As I demand.” “Yes, your honor.”  Slowly, he lifts the hem of her skirt, gathering it up into a bunch upon her lower back. And he asks, “Are you prepared to accept those consequences?” Growing more and more aroused, with her backside fully exposed to him, she gives her answer once again. “Yes, your honor.” “Lovely…” Justice Ancunín murmurs, holding her skirt up with one hand, and— fuck, is she wet for it, already. Then he clears his throat, commanding her, “Now, read.”

from chapter 2 of Jury Duty: The Flowers of Evil

hesitate

Strix takes a moment to consider him. “Then perhaps you just haven’t found your inspiration yet. You know…” She gives him a coy smile. “The thing that coaxes the feeling out of the nest. That helps it take its shape. Spread its wings.”  “Perhaps.” Astarion smiles, too. Studying her thoughtfully, before he asks, “Do you write?” “Me? No.” She hesitates. “Well, not really. Or not anymore.” “But you used to?” “Sort of. A little. But never formally.”  “It doesn’t have to be formal, does it?” Astarion asks, with a playful inflection. Adding, half into his wine glass, “Whatever that means...”

from chapter 6 of Jury Duty: The Flowers of Evil

water

This one's a little long, sorry!

And with Halsin’s departure, no interlocutor remains to me but the carved wooden duck, turning over and over again between my two restless hands. With it, a memory returns to me. I had just left Baldur’s Gate that first time, so young. Traveling north, following my instinct to return home. But when I reached the border of the Misty Forest, I stopped; remembering only then that it wasn't my home, anymore. I didn't have one. And so, as I had no real desire to be anywhere else in particular, I turned west, and kept on going until I couldn’t. After a few more days of walking, I reached a bay along the coast, and made camp a little ways from the quiet lagoon where a creek emptied into it. I had no idea what I was doing there, or what I was going to do next—no further destination held in mind. I did know how to survive, though. And that much I could do, no matter what. Once darkness had fallen, I went to the mouth of the creek. The tide was low enough that the only water remaining in the lagoon was what the creek spilled there, winding its way to the sea through a channel cut into the mud. Black like oil in the darkness, but for the reflections of the moon and the stars. Ducks lined its muddy banks, settled in to rest there for the night—some asleep, others softly quacking and fussing, or preening. And I observed in silence, taking some semblance of comfort in their murmuring—until the gentle surface of the creek’s outflow was broken with a sudden bout of splashing.  It was autumn, and the salmon happened to be running in that particular creek at the time of my visit. So I watched the lone fish that appeared there, thrashing its powerful tail to propel itself through rock-strewn shallows. Heaving its body over the first of many obstacles on that single return journey to its natal waters and breeding grounds. Its final resting place, too, if it made it all the way. Performing its final rite to an audience of ducks, in its frantic swim upstream. The salmon disappeared after a few seconds, but I stayed there for a long time, thinking of it.

from chapter 30 of Hunting Creatures

Alright! Tags for @vakariansyndrome @alwaysmauria @dramatiquechipmunk @shandoratheexplorer @deadly-diminuendo, if any of you are in the mood. Alternatively, anyone else who wants to play!

New words: tree, shame, sway, tickle, wet ;)

[devilheartsblog]

Here’s Part 2 of some ideas I’m doodled for my Winx rewrite

Last post seemed to do better than I expected and I’m glad a few people enjoyed it. So here are some more things I want to work with.

I like Artu and Roxy’s relationship but I would have also liked some backstory on them and more depth. Like Gantlos said “it’s just a dog”. How did Roxy get Artu? Is he adopted or bought? Is there a reason he doesn’t like anyone outside of Roxy and Klaus?

In my rewrite, yes. Abandoned as a puppy, a kid Roxy took him in after her mother left her dad unexpectedly. She basically raised Artu and he means a lot to her, but she never socialised him since she herself isn’t social with people (so while Artu may tolerate someone’s prescence he doesn’t like being touched or seen upclose). Roxy raising Artu is also why she gets pissed and earns her fairy form but doesn’t want the fairy gig since it ended up hurting her dog, because as a fairy the wizards are after her and Gantlos hurt Artu.

Speaking of Gantlos

Gantlos my beloved you’re so fucking bland the only personality trait you have is having fucked up pointy hands and a cool hat <3

Ok in all honestly I like his apathy to animals and the Winx in general, but that also applies to the other wizards to some extent. At least you can say something about the other wizards; Orgon’s voice is top tier, Duman has really cool powers and design, Anagan’s banter with Flora’s entertaining. This one’s technically a headcannon I made cannon in the rewrite. I did my research btw.

Gantlos has a pretty intense fear of deers also called Elafiphobia, even asking Duman to not shapeshift into one. It’s pretty bad, seeing a deer gets him pretty close to a panic attack. I’m not going to spoil why but I’ll say it’s a consequence of the Great Fairy Hunt. In fact all the Wizards despite being the cause have been affected by the fairy hunt, either overall or because of a major event. Gantlos’ deer phobia is also why he doesn’t like/care about animals initially, I mean, why should he like them? Just cause they’re cute? Hah!

Apart from Riven and Musa I hate the melodrama in season 4 it’s so shit. Since in my version Sky isn’t in the story cause king stuff, Mitzi is narratively cremated and Nabu doesn’t die, on top of planning to expand on Anagan and Flora’s relationship as rivals and Anagan “flirting” with her, it’d be weird for Helia to be like “eh”. Like even if Flora can hold her own I think he’d at least be a little concerned and annoyed at Anagan.

So yeah, Helia’s conflict is having a case of Impostor syndrome because Anagan’s a foil to him; confident, extroverted, confrontational, and actually bounces off of Flora really well. (Like, I don’t ship Anagan and Flora but the people who do I don’t blame them, it sounds more interesting) Even if Flora doesn’t reciprocate Anagan’s feelings, Helia feels inadequate and is anxious Flora will lose interest and might even break up with him since he’s the anti-social poet of the group. Timmy could even help after his confidence arc in Season 2. He’s not overprotective of Flora like wanting to fight Anagan since it kinda goes against his pacifism but the narrative doesn’t care about that as much as I do :/

And lastly I think it’s be neat if we saw a more fleshed out dynamic between the Wizards, the best I can think of is when they’re protected by Syllia and Duman almost slips their plan to which Anagan says he’s being whoosy, Orgon complains about being protected by fairies while Gantlos is fine with it.

A lot of the rewrite is focused on fleshing out the wizards because I want complex villains grr, and they’re perfect for it. The Earth Fairies? They’re good but they’re dead in my rewrite soooo-

I like to think Orgon is pretty manipulative of them. Was he always like this? No, but he’s desperate to secure the disappearance of magic from Earth, and his manipulation gets worse and worse as the episodes go on, in the end being threats and guilt-tripping. He still cares but mostly how the wizards can be of service to the Black Circle. And yes Duman is his favorite because he has the best powers. Shapeshifting will always be OP and the best power in my heart.

Anyway that’s all folks. If I make a part 3 it’ll probs cover some other stuff like Jason Queen, which I like his character, it’s perfect for Musa’s development (until they made Bloom the fucking main singer like WHYYY) or perhaps talk about Klaus or Morgana, Tecna and Timmy and more about Nabu. Anyway I’ll go watch some more nostalgic minecraft videos and webtoon rants. See ya!