#She’s clever yet naive | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

snazzynacho · 1 month ago

Text

— Sick Side

Part 1/? Part 2

Emperor Geta x female original character (x Caracalla (one-sided)

Summary: Florentia is betrothed to Geta, but Caracalla is dangerously obsessed with her.

Warnings/tags: 18+ Mentions of STD, mental illness, disease, Forced proximity, forced kissing, referenced/implied past sexual abuse, violent urges, obsessive thoughts, delusions of a disordered mind. No non-con s3x, but it's close. She/her pronouns used. Slight canon divergence. OC is a bit naive and way too nice. Tags may change.

Words: 5k Read on ao3. Masterlist.

A/N: Let’s explore Caracalla’s sick side together (he’s still my babygirl). I initially planned for this to take place in a sort of au/pre-gladiator ii, but then it started making sense to take place during gladiator ii, when Macrinus is being manipulative…so yeah. I've only been able to see the film once so sorry if I get some things wrong. I don't have an editor so sorry if there are typos etc.

Please check the tags before reading.

It is often that Florentia finds herself immersed in the magnificence of the imperial gardens.

She feels it is an honour to walk among the beauty of the statues of the Roman gods and goddesses, and the flowers blooming for all to see. She remembers the Imperial Gardens being talked about with her, before she became wedded to Geta. Everyone has said how wonderful it is, and she can understand why now.

Usually, when she is invited to the palace, Geta’s brother happens to be in the gardens and they walk together when Geta is busy. She likes his company, no more than Geta’s, but he seems sweet. Troubled, but sweet.

Today, they are doing just that.

The air is thick with blooming flowers such as roses and lilies. Caracalla follows a few steps behind her, rambling about nothing in particular, his words spilling out in his usual, disjointed manner.

Caracalla suddenly beams at her, expecting agreement. Having not listened, Florentia does not respond immediately. She does not dislike him, per-sey, but he is so oblivious and his childlike enthusiasm worries her. How is he, Emperor? She knows that his father pleaded with Geta to be Co-Emperors with him, but being in person with the ill emperor is—and she hates to admit it—quite jarring. Her platonic love for him does not diminish, though. Caracalla is going to become her brother-in-law and she will become another one of his carers, as Geta is to him already. Maybe she’s the missing link between them.

“I suppose,” she says, her tone cool, as if she knows what he is talking about.

He nods eagerly, clearly pleased. He believes her lie. “I knew you’d get it. You’re not like the others. You actually understand me.”

Florentia shifts her attention to a butterfly that has fluttered past, its wings reflecting in the sunlight. It lands on a nearby rose, and she absently follows its flight.

“It’s pretty,” she murmurs, more to herself than to him.

“It’s not as pretty as you.” He is serious, his bright blue eyes train on her with an intensity that is both surprising and unsettling.

Florentia blinks, unsure whether to laugh or change the subject in its entirety.

“Yes,” he continues, his gaze softening. “You are like…the sunniest daffodil, the brightest narcissi—though unvain…The smartest rose in the garden. Beautiful, but also clever…A sharp edge to the most elegant sword.”

Florentia is stunned. He is rambling, yet there is an earnestness in his voice, a sweetness beneath. She opens her mouth to respond, but finds herself at a loss.

Caracalla flushes slightly, misinterpreting her silence as disappointment. He feels somewhat dejected. “I…I mean- not that you are weak without a sword, or too harsh like one-”

For the first time, Florentia truly realises that, despite his maddening disease, he is trying. Underneath, there is a sincere man.

Florentia holds his hand carefully. She can feel him trembling. “What you said was beautiful, Caracalla. Don’t go back on your word,”

Caracalla’s eyes widen, his cheeks turning a deeper shade of red. He has not expected her to respond this way. “You…you think so?” he asks, almost shyly.

“Yes,” she says. “It was…quite sweet.”

His face brightes, a smile grows on his lips. “I knew you’d get it,” he echoed, sounding like a child who had just received praise from a teacher he admired.

Florentia squeezes his hand gently, before letting go carefully. She studies him for a moment, noting the eager light in his eyes, the almost nervous way he was fiddling with the fabric of his toga. Her heart softens. She is so happy to have such a generous brother-in-law already—a new friend.

An orange blur flutters past the corner of her eye. “oh, I think it flew away,” she says sadly.

Caracalla turns to follow her gaze, his expression turning almost boyish. “I’ll catch it!”

He dashes forward, his footsteps heavy on the cobblestones, trying to keep up with the elusive butterfly which seems to take pleasure in taunting him, fluttering away just as he reaches for it, only to settle on a flower just out of his grasp.

“Caracalla!” she giggles as she tries to catch up with him, holding her stola to aid in running.

“I got it! I got it!” he exclaims, lunging forward, arms outstretched. Just as he thinks he has the butterfly cornered, it darts away again, leaving Caracalla grasping at thin air.

Florentia reaches him, catching up with his pursuit. She tries to hold back her laughter, but a chuckle escapes her lips. “You’re scaring it!” she speaks a hint of glee in her voice. “If it wants to fly away, let it. That’s what it does” she calmly says.

Caracalla stands there, slightly out of breath, a dejected expression on his face. “But I wanted to hold it,” he mumbles, his lower lip almost quivering. Florentia cannot help but find him strangely endearing in that moment. He is an emperor, a powerful man, yet he is pouting like a child over a butterfly.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she places a tender hand on his shoulder, gently caressing. “I am sure you will soon,”

His breath hitches at her touch, his eyes widening at the unexpected affection. He leans his weight into her hand, soaking up her comfort like a flower in the sun.

“You think so?” he asks, his voice softer than she’d ever heard it. For once, he sounds almost insecure and vulnerable.

“Yes, I believe so,”

He smiles, a small, genuine smile, his earlier disappointment forgotten. For a while, he simply stays there, savouring the touch of her hand on his face. It is such a stark contrast to the usual spoilt swagger and boldness he usually displays, it catches Florentia off guard.

“It can sense a great friend, as I have with you!” she beams.

A tinge of uncertainty occurs at the pit of his stomach, but he smiles nonetheless.

“Look! There it is again!” she spots the butterfly up ahead again. “Wait here, it’ll slowly come back” she interlocks her arm with his gently, so he doesn't run after the butterfly and scare it away.

He obeys, keeping absolutely still, almost holding his breath, as the butterfly returns. Florentia's strategy seems to be working. The tiny insect flutters closer, seemingly unbothered by their presence now, drawn in by her gentle coaxing.

Caracalla gapes, wonder in his eyes, as the butterfly lands delicately on a nearby flower.

It then flies back up in front of their faces and then lands somewhere they do not expect…her nose.

The butterfly perches calmly on the tip of her nose, its wings gently flutter. The moment is almost magical, the world around them fades away as they focus on the tiny creature on Florentia’s nose.

Caracalla’s eyes widen in surprise. Pure glee on his expression. A small gasp escapes his lips. He tenses to move, to try and grab the butterfly, but one look from Florentia holds him in place.

“Don’t move!” she whispers tersely.

She cannot stop grinning as she looks cross eyed, staring down at the butterfly. Caracalla chuckles softly, his eyes are glued to the scene before him. He’s seen Florentia smile and laugh plenty of times—at parties the emperor’s have thrown and dinners they've presented, which is where Geta and her first met—but this is different. There is something nearly childlike in her wide, joyous smile, in the way her eyes sparkle with wonder—like he.

He can't resist marvelling at the sight before him: a beautiful woman, standing in a sunlight garden, a butterfly perched delicately on her nose, making her look for all the world like a nymph straight out of mythology. A true goddess.

He is simply a man, sharing a serene moment with a captivating woman.

“You look positively adorable,” he murmurs, barely able to keep a laugh at bay.

Florentia gulps but blushes deeply, as the implications of his words sink in. The butterfly stays on her nose.

He cannot stop himself from stepping closer, unable to tear his eyes away from her smiling face. She looks so happy, so unguarded in that moment, and all he wants is to be closer to her.

“You are… lovely,” his voice low, reverent. Without thinking, he reaches out, his fingers hovering just above her cheek, as if afraid to touch the fragile moment and shatter it.

The butterfly, seemingly unbothered by Caracalla’s movement, remains perched on Florentia’s nose, oblivious to the tension between them. It continues to flutter softly, its wings a flurry of orange, black and white colours.

Caracalla’s hand hovers a moment longer, the desire to touch her is practically overwhelming, but he hesitates. The reality of their situation crashes back into his mind. She is promised to his brother. There are rules, traditions, duties…

Still, he aches to touch her, to feel the softness of her skin under his fingers.

“Florentia,” he whispers, his voice almost hoarse. “I… I…” He does not know what to say. He wants to confess his feelings, and his growing liking for her. But the words seem to catch in his throat, trapped in the knowledge that he should not feel this way, not towards Geta’s betrothed.

The butterfly suddenly flies away, snapping them out of this trance. Caracalla’s outstretched hand drops to his side, the moment lost. Florentia steps back, clearing her throat.

He blinks, suddenly self-conscious, his heart still pounds in his chest. He wants to say something, to bring the magic back, but what can he say? He almost confessed, almost crossed a line he knew he shouldn’t.

Instead, he clears his throat, attempting to regain his composure. “Ah… that was… quite the experience.”

“I’m sorry Caracalla, I do apologise, but I must go.” she abruptly declares.

“What?” Caracalla’s brows furrow as his eyes widen, a pang of panic hitting him in the stomach. “Go? Where? Why?”

He has not expected her to leave so unexpectedly. Just moments ago, she looked so carefree, so happy, and now she was rushing off, her face tight with tension.

“Florentia, wait,” he calls out, reaching for her, a desperate edge to his voice. He cannot let her go, not now, not when he’s just had the smallest taste of the closeness he’s been yearning for.

“It’s uh— a lady thing!” Florentia blurts as she practically sprints away. It is a lie to her but she does not have time to care.

“A… a Lady thing?” Caracalla stands there, dumbfounded, as he watches her hasty retreat. She is obviously flustered, her cheeks rosy and her steps quick. But a ‘Lady thing’? Caracalla did not know much about the female mind, or their struggles, but he did know a thing or two of something they go through every month…

He frowns at the thought of her being in discomfort. He stands there for what feels like ages, hesitating. He listens to the conflicting voices fight in his head. The more primal voice, the one that cannot forget the way her skin had felt under his fingers, the one that craves her touch again, urges him to follow her, to demand answers. But the other part, the rational voice of imperial duty which understands propriety and etiquette, wills him to remain where he is and tells him to let her go, to forget about her and move on.

He is Emperor. He has a reputation to maintain, an image of absolute power and control. Chasing after a woman, especially his Co-Emperor’s—his brother’s—betrothed, is beneath him. Is it not?

Yet, he cannot unsee her soft and joyful face under the butterfly’s touch, like a painting he can admire but cannot touch, for fear of his hands being scolded.

Finally, with a growl of frustration, he spun on his heel and stalks back towards the palace. He will not follow her, not right now. But he will find her, and he will get answers.

As he walks, his head is a tangled mess of unresolved questions, of unfulfilled desires. He cannot shake the persistent image of her face from his mind, the ghost of his fingers on her skin. He wants to deny his feelings, to bury them under the weight of imperial duties, of concubines. But they remain, stubbornly lodged in his heart. Whether he likes it or not, he has found something he has not experienced: a connection, a longing, for a woman he should not even be thinking about.

Caracalla knows this is dangerous territory—a minefield of political intrigue and familial duty. But he has never been one to heed his own instincts, especially when it comes to women and others he desires. He is an Emperor, and he usually gets what he wants. So why not pursue this forbidden desire?

His ill mind is rapidly regurgitating this greedy sequence of craving, need and want. One minute, he is telling himself he needs to stop thinking about her, and the next, he is already inside the palace, his mind still wrestling with these questions.

Every solution he comes up with raises more obstacles. His duty as an emperor, the politics of the empire, the delicate balance of the imperial family… All of it stands in his way, like unconquerable walls. He scowls, his frustration making his steps heavy as he paces the corridors.

And then, a thought occurs to him. A wild, treacherous thought…

What if he removes Geta from the equation?

The idea is almost shocking in its boldness, its audacity. But the more he thinks about it, the more it begins to carve a twisted sort of sense. Geta, his albeit more stronger brother, the one always better than him... He is a hindrance, a thorn in Caracalla’s side. What if he can eliminate the obstacle, and have Florentia all to himself?

He knows such a thought can be seen as treasonous. but then again, who would dare to accuse the emperor? Geta’s vulnerable, sick, brother? Poor poor Caracalla, to be left with such a weight to bore on his back alone...

The idea continues to take root in his mind, its ugliness blossoming into a twisted plan. Kill Geta, claim Florentia, and secure his line of succession. It is rash, it is dangerous, but it is also thrilling.

Rome’s people are already starting to hate Geta. To turn on them. Macrinus says so himself. So what can be worse?

Caracalla allows himself a small sinister smile, his mind already spinning, devising the first steps of the plan. He makes his way deeper into the imperial residence, nodding curtly at the passing guards and slaves. He will need to keep his growing preoccupation hidden, for now. No one can know his intentions, especially his brother. Geta would certainly know something was askew…he has always been annoyingly perceptive.

He eventually reaches his chambers, closing the door behind him. The room was glorious and luxurious, fit for any majesty. Massive, lavish, and impersonal.

He stalks over to a table, his shaky hand immediately reaches for a bottle of alcohol. He pours himself a goblet of red wine, the quality stuff which is normally reserved for high officials and special occasions, but he thinks this is special enough, right? He needs something stronger for today. The liquid is rich and dark. It doesn't quench his thirst for a particular woman, though.

Drinking deeply from the goblet, savouring the bitter taste, he doesn’t realise he has drunk it all until he’s left slurping air. It was certainly a good drink. He feels the wine spreading through his body, warm and invigorating—a dangerous addition to his already unstable state.

He refills his goblet again and slumps onto a plump chair, swishing the dark red liquid around in the golden goblet, watching the swirls and bubbles forming. He leans back in the chair, his mind is still reeling with his decision. He wants Florentia. He wants her with an intensity so strong, that even he is surprised. And if getting her means doing something as reprehensible as killing his own brother, his own flesh and blood, the one he shared a womb with, then so be it.

He will finally have something of his own, and solely his own. He will have Florentia. One way or another, she will be his.

Caracalla entitles himself to bask in thought. He imagines Florentia by his side, in his bed, under his control. No more coy glances, no more stolen moments. Just her, completely his.

He chuckles darkly, how twisted his mind has become.

He pushes himself up from the chair, pacing across the room. He halts when he walks past his large ornate mirror. He turns to face it, studying his reflection. He looks every bit the Emperor: regal, strong, powerful. More, there is something in his bright blue eyes—a madness that has been festering for a long time. It is a look of a man who has incurably lost all tether to the world, cast to inhumane territories, whether he wants or not.

The enormity of what he is planning to do sinks in. It is not just an act of lust or obsession, it is a betrayal of the highest caliber. Killing his own brother, his blood, just to have his wife.

Yet even as he struggles with the magnitude of what he is about to do, his heart still thuds harder in his chest, his blood grows hotter in his veins. He craves Florentia more than he cares about his own brother.

His gaze never tears from himself. It is the look of a man who is willing to do anything to get what he wants.

“Anything,” he mutters to himself, his voice hoarse with determination. “Anything at all…” He wants Florentia, and he will have her. And nothing, not even familial ties or the wrath of the gods, will stand in his way.

The silence of the room is interrupted by a knock on the door. Caracalla snaps out of his thoughts, his eyes narrow in irritation. Who is foolish enough to disturb him when he is in such a brooding mood?

“What?” he barks out, turning from the mirror. He watches as a slave boy - one of the younger ones - timidly pushes open the door, his eyes lower to the floor and his hands quiver by his sides.

“What is it?” Caracalla repeats, his voice gruff. He can already feel his anger rising. He has no patience for this boy’s cowardice. “Speak up when you’re addressing your Emperor!”

The boy gulps visibly, clearly terrified by the thunderous tone of the emperor's voice. As if the God, Jupiter, has possessed him.

The young servant’s voice comes out in a meek whisper. "The…the Lady Florentia is here, Dominus. She…she says she must speak with you. Urgently,”

Caracalla's eyes widen fractionally in surprise. Florentia is here? In his chambers? It is almost too good to be true. But he quickly composes himself, schooling his features into a neutral expression. "Send her in."

The boy nods quickly before scuttling away, the door closing behind him. Caracalla takes a sudden deep breath, trying to calm his suddenly racing heart. He is about to be alone, in his room, with Florentia. The very thing he has been craving.

He watches the door expectantly, his hands clenching and unclenching are his sides. Please, he silently prays. Please, come in.

There is a moment of silence, it feels like a century, and then the door swings open. His heart lurches before him. Florentia stands there, silhouetted against the brighter lights of the hallway, her figure in her purple stola, elegant and enticing. Her hair is loose, falling past her shoulders, unbraided unlike it was earlier. Has she arranged it down, especially for him? This enchantress…This Goddess… She might as well be holding his heart in her hands, as that is where it belongs.

Clearly, Caracalla does not see the emotion on her face at first—or rather, unemotion. He's too pre-occupied by the woman he wants in his chambers. Does she feel the same way? Has she heard his plea and come to confess her feelings? Her happy face from earlier is replaced with a tense seriousness he has rarely seen from her.

He stands there transfixed, unsure of what to say.

"Caracalla," Florentia begins softly, her voice cutting through the silence. "May I come in?" Her words come out more like a statement than a question, and Caracalla finds himself nodding “yes” without even thinking, as if under a spell. He watches as she steps fully into the room, closing the door firmly behind her.

This is it. This is the moment…

“What brings you here at this hour, Florentia?" he asks, egging on her feelings for him he thinks she will admit.

He watches as she moves further into the room, her movements graceful but purposeful. She stills, her back to him for a moment, then she turns around. She meets his gaze, her eyes still serious. "We need to talk," she says simply.

Caracalla senses his heart skip a beat at her serious tone. Whatever she has to say, it is clearly important. He tries to keep his features controlled though the urge to reach out and touch her is nearly overwhelming.

“Talk about what?” he questions.

“Please sit with me, Caracalla. I don’t want this to be more difficult than it already is,” she speaks softly, like a parent to a child.

Caracalla frowns, biting his lip, except her soft soothing voice sends shivers down his spine. He feels so conflicted, a mix of dread and anticipation at her request.

Obliging, he settles on a large chaise nearby, gesturing for her to join him. He scrutinises as Florentia settles across from him, sitting straight, her hands tucked in her lap. She is supposed to sit next to me.

For a moment, neither one speaks. The air is thick with tension, each waiting for the other to break the silence first. Finally, Caracalla cannot bear the suspense any longer. “What is it, Florentia?” he asks, his voice gruff. “You say we need to talk. So speak.”

As their eyes lock, he catches a fracture in her serious expression—a flicker of hurt—and it hits him like a punch in the gut.

He tries to steady his features, to keep the turmoil within him at bay. But he can feel his composure slipping. Where is Dondas?

“Flora—” he says, his voice softer now. But she cuts him off with a wave of her hand.

“This is difficult enough, Caracalla,” she lets out, her own voice catching slightly. “Please, let me speak. I need to say this.”

He bites back a retort, falling silent. He has never seen her quite like this before…so serious, so vulnerable. It makes him strangely unsettled. He gestures for her to continue, his gaze never leaves her beautiful face.

Florentia takes a deep breath, clearly gathering her thoughts. When she speaks again, her voice has regained its stoic determination.

“Caracalla, I know you have feelings for me. I’ve seen the way you look at me, the way you act around me. And I…” She pauses, a flicker of indecision passing over her features. “I cannot reciprocate those feelings.”

Caracalla leans back, his back hits the chase, as if physically blown by her words. He feels the color drain from his face, his mouth suddenly bone-dry. Is she saying what he thinks she is? She cannot be. Florentia…she is his. How can she not want him?

He attempts to speak, but the words are lodged in his throat. All he can manage is a strangled, “what?”

“Caracalla, this does not mean I do not love you, nor care about you.” she leans forward to carefully hold his hands “I do deeply. Just…not in the romantic sense.”

Caracalla senses her grip on his hands, but he cannot bring himself to look at her. Her words echo in his ears, each syllable is a fresh spike in his heart. She is rejecting him. She cares for him, but only as a friend. Not as a lover, not as he wants her to. It is worse than any physical blow he has ever received.

“But… why?” he manages to croak out, the sound pathetically pleading. His mind shows him flashes of all the times they have spent together these past few months. All those walks in the garden, the polite smiles in passing, the shared memories of the feasts he and his co-emperor have put on. How can she not love me?

“Why?…I…Well, because. Because the gods have someone else for you. Your true love. They’re out there somewhere, just not…here,” Florentia tries to tread around the topic carefully, as she squeezes his hands gently and lovingly.

Her words only fuel his disbelief, his confusion. “The gods?” he echoes, his voice thick with skepticism. “They’ve decided for me who I should love? After deciding to give me this disease?!” his nostrils flare as his anger grows, his expression quickly turns sinister. He can no longer control his unrest.

He cannot fathom how the whims of the gods can dictate something as personal and primal as love. Let alone gift him a lifelong struggle with his disease, which is increasingly becoming more deteriorating day by day, Florentia fears. It seems arbitrary, cruel even.

What have I done to deserve this?

“What I mean is…That, I am not the one for you, and whoever that is will love you so much, as you so deserve. I cannot do so, I am sorry Caracalla.“

He laughs mirthlessly, a hollow sound that reverberates around the room. Love him, as he deserved? He does not care about any other love. He wants HER, and no one else!

Caracalla leans closer, gripping her hand now. Tightly. The pain of her rejection is beginning to give way to something else. Kill Geta. Take Florentia.

“That’s not good enough,” he says, his voice now low and dangerous. “I don’t want anyone else. I want you, Florentia.”

“Want?” she careens back, looking at him in an unreadable expression.

“Yes, want!” Caracalla snaps, his patience wearing thin. He rose from the chaise, pacing restlessly back and forth in front of her. “You say the gods have decreed that there is someone else out there for me. But what do the gods know of love? Of desire?” He stops, turning, pleading. “They are immortal, unfeeling. They do not understand the concept of yearning for someone, to desire them with every fibre of your being.”

Florentia swallows harshly. Her mouth goes dry, and her chest feels heavy. She stares at where he was sitting only a moment ago. “I have desired you from the moment I first laid eyes on you,” Caracalla admits, though Florentia has quickly pieced that together after earlier’s event. His voice is quiet but intense. “Your laugh. Your intelligence. Your beauty. You have invaded my every thought. I cannot think, I cannot sleep, and when I do you are in my dreams. You are all I want, all I fantasise about.”

Tears are brimming his blue eyes, threatening to fall. He takes a step towards her, leaning over to look into her eyes. His eyes burn with an intensity that makes her involuntarily bend her neck away from him. “How dare some gods decide that I cannot have you?” he concludes his speech. His breath is hot on her face, and his possessive words start to scare her.

Her lip wobbles, but she keeps it steady. Her tears cannot fall. Not yet. His passion shocks her and if she were in different circumstances, she may have swooned, but, she is not. Florentia is betrothed to his brother, the one she loves. She stands tall, glaring at him “I have a say in this too, you do realise? Not the Gods, ME. If you loved me as much you claim, then you would do anything for me to be happy,”

Her firmness and strength stuns him momentarily. He did expect her to back down, to be overwhelmed by the force of his passion. But there she is, standing strong against him, her eyes blazing with a fire to match his own.

He takes a step closer, their bodies almost touching. “I would do anything to make you happy,” he says. His voice is a hoarse whisper. “Anything at all. You know that,” he repeats. His shaking hands want to reach out for her.

“Then let me go.” she whispers as her hand reaches for his trembling ones, as if reading his mind, which only makes his delusion of her secretly loving him thrive. We are so in sync, as lovers become one.

His breath catches in his throat. Let her go? It is the last thing he wants to do. But her words hold him in a peculiar sort of trance, as if he is physically incapable of disobeying. “I cannot,” he manages, his voice rough, cheeks rosy and wet with tears. “You cannot ask me to do that, Florentia, you are…” He trails off, his eyes search hers desperately. “You are the only person who makes me feel alive. You cannot ask me to give that up.”

“I will still be here for you. We will still walk together in the garden, see each other over meals, be friends…and when I am married—”

He cuts her off, shaking his head as his hands grip hers tightly. “That’s not enough. I want more than that! I want more of you!”

He steps even closer, their bodies are now pressed against each other. He can feel the heat of her, smell the sweet scent of her skin. The nearness only intensified his need, his longing, his hunger.

“Please, Caracalla, I do not know what to say—”

“Do not speak, then.” He cuts her off again, his voice harsh. Then, his lips are on hers, bruising, possessive. He kisses her with desperation and a need that borders on feral.

Her stomach drops, plunging into a deep uneasy feeling. Her eyes widen as his lips are pressing against hers. She whimpers, not in pleasure, but in shock and hurt.

He does not notice her whimper, deafened by the pounding of his own heart, the roaring in his ears. He only feels the softness of her plump lips, the heat of her breath. He presses forward, his hands moving to grip her waist, pulling her closer to him.

Florentia finally comes to terms with what is happening and grips his shoulders, pushing him away. The unexpected resistance snaps him out of his haze of desire. He lifts his head slightly, meeting her gaze with a mix of surprise and irritation. “What are you doing?” he demands, his voice strained. “Why are you pushing me away?”

“I am scared,” she voices subconsciously, her thought spills out of her, her voice wobbily. “You are frightening me,” It is not the first time a man has acted this way around her. Disturbed her. It has never occurred to her that Caracalla could be the one to continue that cycle, until now. Perhaps she has been naive…

She has to flee before it twists into a situation she never wants to experience again.

Caracalla’s gaze softens at her admission. The anger that has flared up at her resistance fades, replaced with a mix of confusion and tenderness. “Scared?” he recites incredulously. “Why? It is only me, Florentia. I am not going to hurt you.”

Florentia motions backwards, looking at him stunned. But Caracalla doesn't quite understand why. He follows her stare, his confusion deepening. He glances behind him, but sees nothing there that would possibly unnerve her. “What is it?” he asks, his brows furrowing, and his leg taunts, wanting to stamp it down like an irritable child. His impatience is returning, his desire for her opposing with his bewilderment.

“You…” she shakes her head, holding one hand on her chest as she braces a sob. “You are…different.” she takes a deep breath and blinks, hoping to see the sweet side of him from earlier rather than the sick side when she opens her eyes again.

Caracalla takes a step back, withdrawing slightly. Her words hit him like a cold splash of water, sobering him. “Different? How?” he asks gruffly.

His heart is still pounding with a mixture of desire and frustration, but her apparent fear is giving him room to think.

Florentia opens her mouth to speak but nothing comes out before she practically leaps out of the room. Her legs working faster than her thoughts

He watches her go, confusion and anger warring within him. “Wait...” he manages to let out, but she is already gone. Caracalla is frozen in place, left alone with a whirlwind of emotions. Confusion, desire, hurt, anger—he feels them all intensely. But over everything is the caving feeling of rejection. Florentia was so close, the taste of her still on his lips, yet, she pulled back as if horrified of him. Everyone always sees me as a monster.

He ran a trembling hand through his red hair, his breathing ragged. What has just happened? How did everything go so wrong, so fast? He wants to go after her, to force her to explain why she has run away. But he also fears whatever it is about him that has frightened her.

Feeling restless and agitated, he paces his room again. He tries to tell himself that it was her uncertainty that made her react that way, not disgust or fear but the thought refuses to take root. Every time he reaches for it, it slips through his fingers like smoke while her terrified expression flashes in his mind as clear as day. “I am scared,” The scene replays over and over in his head, analysing every moment. It is like a neverending waking nightmare.

Her flowery scent still lingers in his chambers, and instead of calming him down as it usually does, it is starting to give him a headache, taunting him as if she is still in the room with him. He pictures how the scene could have happened—how it should have proceeded…with Florentia kissing him back, with equal desire and passion. Her hands gliding along his body, his chest. The flutters of his stomach when her hands cradle his cheeks, sliding them down to disrobe him before setting him down on his bed. Then, he feistily tosses her over so he is on top, rips her clothes off, and greedily takes her there and then, feeling how tight and wet she is. All for him.

Gods, he cannot even think straight. His cock reacts to his dirty thoughts which leaves him flustered and irate at the situation. No concubine can cure this.

YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE, TO STEAL OR TO REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS.

A/N: Comments and reblogs are appreciated. <3

Part 2 has been posted!

THIS WAS TENSE ASF. (it gets worse)

#snazzynacho fanfics #emperor caracalla #caracalla #gladiator 2 #gladiator ii #emperor geta #emperor caracalla x reader #emperor geta fanfic #emperor geta x reader #fanfic #minors dni #fanfiction #gladiator ii fanfiction #gladiator ii spoilers

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am-i-interrupting · 1 month ago

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can i have viktor finding out reader is still drinking even when she agreed to stop (the stress of him wasting away drove them back to drink) :3

Don’t Pour Yet

He wasn’t mad. He wasn’t disappointed. He was just, as he so often was lately, resigned.

You thought perhaps you were being clever but he knew you. He’d known you. He understood your quirks and interests as you did his. He also understood your flaws.

He could not blame you. If the situations were reversed and if he couldn’t be head deep, drowning in work to come up with solutions, he couldn’t say he wouldn’t be reacting the same.

He sat beside you, on a dusted booth. It was just at the beginnings of the Undercity, right there in the crossover.

He grimaced when his hand touched something tacky and slightly wet.

You still hadn’t looked at him.

He grabbed hold of the glass. You let him take it from you. He watched the liquid slosh around as he made circular movements.

“I noticed the distance,” he said, barely heard above the crowd, “but I held onto a perhaps naive hope that is not where I would find you.”

“I—“ you started and then cut yourself off.

You bit the inside of your lip. You could feel were the exterior had gone chapped. Your teeth caught a dried piece of skin. You could feel the small little clumps of tissue as your teeth rolled over them and you were left with a slightly burning piece of exposed flesh.

“You don’t have to explain,” he said. “I believe I already know.”

“I’m sorry,” you said.

You placed your hand over your eyes. Your head tilted away from him. You didn’t deserve to look at him.

“I know.”

You didn’t deserve his kindness.

He placed his hand on your shoulder and squeezed.

He examined the glass as he held it towards the light. His fingers wrapped around the bottom. He twisted it one way and the other. The liquid swished from side to side but there wasn’t enough left to spill.

“I could be an ass,” he said, “and bring up the fact that you promised to stop but already feel bad enough. “

He was quiet for a moment. Then in a moment of understanding, he down the rest of the glass. It clinked softly as he placed it down.

“I can’t ask you to stop. We both know how that ended last time. It wasn’t until you were ready that you were able to get sober but selfishly, I don’t want to spend my last days without you.”

You rested your hand atop his own. Your hair fell in your face as you let your head plop against him.

#viktor arcane x reader #viktor x reader #viktor x you #viktor arcane x you

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threepandas · 7 months ago

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Bad End: For Us

My sister is the only one who actually knows me. Who looks at me and... and actually SEES me, for who I am. It's because she suffers too, I think. Is beautiful. In that way that drives men too distraction. Poets too the page, artists too a medium. They look at her like she is art, magnificence and beauty given form.

Not a person.

Living, breathing, with thoughts and feelings of her own.

She is... is just BEAUTY to them. Delicate features and graceful limbs. Refined and splendid. A lovely voice reducing all her brilliant thoughts to mere sound. Who cares? How clever and educated, how wise or dignified, she may be? She is decoration. A pretty thing to look at. A prize to be held and won.

And... and I am a cute little pet.

Eternally the toddler, to be pampered and dressed in bows. Girlish things, no matter how old I grow. Handled instead of spoken too. Because somehow I am a child. Fuckable, yet... a child. Cute, innocent, naive. Not because I AM, but because they SAY so. Because it matches their fantasy of me.

I fear what will happen if I dare break that fantasy, with how much they control my life.

My Sister, alone, is the one who SEES me.

And people try to convince me she is... what? Jealous? Bitter? Because I am somehow "stealing" the lecherous eyes of her unfaithful man? I don't want them. I don't want ANY of them. Reborn, somehow, as a Protagonist in some game amongst countless, I can predict the plot points as they come. Read the troupes.

Bah. I am no spunky little bright eyed thing.

As I lay, draped over my sister's splendid skirts, in her private writing room, she quietly sips her tea and writes return missives. Strokes my hair as I hide, curled up like a child against her legs. If the ridiculous outfit I was shoved in would allow it? I would cram myself under her desk. Hide there instead.

As it is? I sit like some sulking maiden, an exhausted pet, seeking comfort in the only refuge I HAVE.

They will not leave me ALONE.

The Knight. Some brash, meat headed, "I'll take care of you" type, crashing into every quiet moment I try to have. Loud and presumptuous. Disdainful of my academic interests.

The Playboy. All too forward "romantic" gestures and ignoring obvious discomfort. More wrapped up in HIS feelings then considering, for even a moment, my own. Selfish and dramatic.

The Duke. Cliché and terrible. "Kind" to no one but me. Endless expensive gifts, pressuring grand displays, and eyes that linger possessively. Violence at the drop of a hat.

But oh, let us not forget the ASSASSIN! Yes, the LEADER of the ASSASSIN'S Guild! That somehow, someway, decided I was a prize worth possessing. A cutesy little "interesting" doll. That? Gods only knows, what will happen when he grows bored.

Lingering and haunting me. Crawling through windows. Standing too close, to touch my hair and drop cryptic bits of information that always hint at terrible things. Having to watch my words so SO carefully. Lest someone end up DEAD.

And let's not forget the WORST offender! The most clingy of them ALL!

My sister's FIANCÉ.

The Crown PRINCE! Yes, not some average noble, but a ROYAL!! And the man can't CONTROL himself! But does anyone else care? Noooooo! It's ROMANTIC. True loooove~! Aren't we CUTE together? Surely my Sister, his FIANCÉE, is just JEALOUS. How VILE. Disgusting, they scoff!

I should start throwing chairs.

This house is a nightmare.

I curl closer to my sister. Releasing her skirts to slip an arm around her waist. Hugging her, pressing my face close. She puts her cup down with a soft clink. A second hand joining the first to stroke my head. Cup my cheeks.

"My Dearest, you can not hide against my skirts indefinitely. As much as I would love to let you." She says, voice soft and cool like swirling mist, tilting my face up so she can look me in the eyes. "You DO need to eat eventually, as do I. Unfortunately, I can not keep you here forever. Come, help me plan the wedding. We can look at cake styles."

I'd rather be planning a funeral.

"Not until I get a son out of him, I'm afraid."

Wut.

I blink, not sure I heard that right. Look up at my softly smile sister. No. No, I probably didn't. Wishful thinking maybe? Or I've just been around Stabby too much. I scramble to my feet. Fighting my own girlish abomination of a skirt. I hate it. It's cutesy to the point of mocking. I'm in my TWENTIES for God's sake! Not EARLY twenties either!

Why do I have a BOW ON MY ASS?!

Because I am the Protagonist. Baby faced and Pwecious~☆. Fucking INFANTALIZED. I could BITE.

I sigh, take the arm my sister offers me, and tuck myself into her side. Rest my head upon her shoulder. It's a little uncomfortable, with all the jewelry she must wear. But damn it! I want my cuddles!

I bask, as we walk, in the comfort it brings.

She's strong and graceful. Smells like a delicate spring morning, all rare flowers and new growth. A hint of expensive spice. I LOVE being the little sibling. When it's HER that's treating me so. Because she makes it precious. Comfortable. Like we could spend our lives, together like this. The best of friends.

Happy.

If only people would... you know... stop trying to FUCK me. I prefer my hobbies. For God's sake, I'm RICH and a second child. I HAVE basicly no responsibilities except "don't embarrass the family". Or that WOULD be the case? If our parents weren't so intent on... "pushy dating advice".

"Would you like some lovely news, Dearest?" Whispers my sister, as she sweeps us past some upset looking maids, towards the tea room. I nod. "I've made some wonderful headway with some... ambitious gentlemen, about your little cockroach problem. They are quite efficient. I'm likely to recommend them."

I stiffle a snort. Oh my god. My sister sent thugs after a few of the suitors? Holy shit! That's amazing! Is THAT why I haven't seen them around lately? They got scared?

We settle in our seats. Tea and snacks. The maid looks... nervous. Weird. My sister smiles kindly, somehow startling the poor thing, making her flinch. Oh dear. I try to smile reassuringly. No harm no foul, right? Yet the poor girl reacts like I've cast myself into a lion pit for her. Flees.

....I'm beginning to suspect someone is abusing our waitstaff.

It's probably that bastard lech of a fiance.

We need to keep him away from the maids. And me. Women in general honesty. If I had my say, he wouldn't be allowed near my SISTER either. But she insists, and- Oooh! This one's CUTE! Sis, Sis! LOOK at the little details on this one!

"Hmm? Oh that IS lovely! Do you like it? If so, we shall sample it at once. I want the day to be perfect for us, Dearest. You're my world after all. There's NOTHING I wouldn't give you. A shame though, that our parent's will likely be too sick to see me wed."

It really was. I had my differences with them, but... it was their DAUGHTER'S WEDDING you know? Whatever they had caught, during their endless string of parties, was ravaging their health. It seemed agonizing. Slow. Yet even in the midst of planning her WEDDING, all the gossip and backstabbing, my sister dutifully visited them. Brought them tea and kept them company.

I didn't know how she could bear it.

She was a better person then I, I guess.

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savannahsdeath · 1 year ago

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MDNI ! haven't posted much bout ellie lately .. but rockstar!ellie makes me go feral . especially when she likes to have secrets, like a cute groupie backstage. a clever groupie, who wants to be more than a secret

❥︎ i hope nobody catch us ,

but i kinda hope they catch us , anyway ...

"you told anyone?" she cooed in a sweet voice. an overly sweet, too sweet, like the calm before the storm. she had you settled on her lap, making you hold the hem of your skirt — cheap fabric scratching your sensitive fingertips and upper thighs, even though it wasn't the friction you desired. you knew you have to, so your body will be on display for ellie, revealing what she wanted. she looked down at her well deserved gift with lust in her eyes, ready to make a move... yet something was holding her back. her head rested in the crook of your neck, leaning on your shoulder. her fingers left your knee, abrading through your thighs, her knuckles chafing your skin in a light touch, barely palpable, nevertheless enough to give you goosebumps.

"what if i did?" you suggested in an innocently naive tone, which ellie found suitable for an illiterate. it wasn't troublesome to use your brain and interpret her intonation — she was not in the mood to quarrel. her hand abruptly landed on your panties, the raw, cold agitation making you freeze. you gritted your teeth, letting out a strangled seethe, followed by a shake of your head. "i didn't."

you studied the area around you, glancing at all of the instruments left by the other band members. what were they doing now? perhaps they were parading around the building, ( whose storage compartment you were in ) giving autographs for rapacious fans. sooner or later, one of them will notice that something's off — not everyone decided to greet their admirers.

"where's ellie williams?"

this question must be asked, moreover the explanation wasn't known yet. ellie's friends will have a difficult time finding an answer. you had the honor to know. to know where she was and what she was doing. the way her eyes closed in pleasure showed she wasn't embarrassed of her actions at all.

the next thing you took note of was the microphone, stuck in a tripod, which fell down right next to you. you stretched your hand and grabbed it, letting your skirt limply cover up your thighs. as you heard ellie hum, your fingertips quickly moved the snap and put the mic back in its place. it noiselessly rolled away, and even though it was still near, you had to squint, creating a cute wrinkle in the corner of your eyes. after you used enough effort, you stopped struggling to notice a green dot. you blinked a few times — your eyelids fell down... and opened again. but you weren't wrong. there was, definitely, a little light, glowing blurry in your vision. its color was outstanding — an significant, tinted part, evident in the plain black handle. and you knew what it means;

mic on !

ellie unknowingly laughed and withdrew four of her fingers, only the middle one remaining pressed to your lingerie, slowly sliding towards your clit. "of course you didn't," she whispered in your ear.

if you were right — if the microphone was connected to all of the speakers in the pub — no one should hear that murmur. but once any of you whimpers, whines or lets any other pornographic moan out ... there will be a clear excuse for williams' absence.

i kinda feel insane rn . too crazy ? yes Ok

i swear you turned the mic off right after that n nothing happened im not insaneeee 😹😹😇😇😇 and not horny AT ALLLL

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physalian · 6 months ago

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Fantasy Worldbuilding Without Ignorant Protagonists

A reminder, as we approach Arcane Season 2, that exposition in a fantasy setting can be given sparingly, and yet still tell an enthralling story.

Or, imagine how different Arcane, or Game of Thrones, or Lord of the Rings would have been if they were “stranger in a strange land” type fantasies with ignorant Earth protagonists who needed the whole plot and kitchen sink explained to them?

I dislike audience exposition vectors, not just in fantasy, but usually in a fantastical setting ranging from urban fantasy to superhero stories, because they’re an author crutch, giving the illusion of having to explain every little detail so the audience can keep up when… if this character wasn’t the hero, and you had to pick a character who knew about the world to be your protagonist, they wouldn’t be asking all these obvious questions and you'd still be able to tell the story.

I know why they exist, so they can be the vehicle through which the audience lives vicariously. We share their wonder and amazement as this cool new realm awes and humbles and frightens them.

But what these characters tend to lack is agency, specifically when they’ve been around in this setting for long enough that they really should start to know better. Or, if they’re built up as smart and self-sufficient, and yet don’t ever seek out information about the plot or their new world beyond asking the other characters dumb questions.

Example because I love these books: In The Titan’s Curse (PJO Book 3) Percy complains about not being able to manipulate the Mist, of which his new rival, Thalia, can do easily. This is one of the first things he does in the book. Because he has to remain the butt of the “seaweed brain” joke (and Annabeth must remain The Smart One), Percy hasn’t already learned how to do this very important trick (and he never does).

While it would behoove him to learn, when he’s had 2.5 years to do so, he just… didn’t. He also doesn’t know what the Manticore is to retain the suspense… when he’s had plenty of time and motive to study up on all the things that eagerly want to kill him, and has a nerdy girlfriend who’d be more than happy to lecture him with this information.

Even something as simple as Percy being shocked that he’s right that it’s the Manticore would have given him a little bit more agency. He’s an incredibly clever character, but still has to serve as the audience exposition vehicle, so he has to remain ignorant so the plot can explain things to him. He's as cherry-picked clueless as the story demands sometimes.

So. You want to have a character for the audience to live vicariously? Please give them expository agency.

Meaning–give them means and motives to learn about their new world on their own instead of asking questions as the plot demands. Or even let these characters form their own biases on what they think they know so that the actually knowledgeable characters can go “um actually”.

I once wrote a protagonist who was from her fantasy world, but purposefully ignorant about life beyond her planet. Why? So I could have all my other characters explain things to her that they would not explain to each other. But she was from a world with heavy information policing and manipulation, so she thought she knew plenty (naively, not arrogantly), giving plenty of fodder for conflict as opposed to just exposition.

It wasn’t just A learning about the new planet for the audience’s benefit, it was A realizing she was misled and lied to, and learning what “facts” she has that are wrong. Was it perfect? Heck no, but not only was this part of her character growth, by the second book, she was all studied up and when something unknown came along, the whole team shared in the confusion.

I did the same thing with Elias, my protagonist in Eternal Night of the Northern Sky. He’s very purposefully, literally sheltered, literally grew up under a rock, but his people have incredibly loud biases against vampires. Elias has plenty of knowledge about his world, both that is correct and vastly incorrect, while still lacking basic knowledge of other survival skills because he’s never had the opportunity.

Elias’s biases drive early conflict and conversation. He’s not going “what’s a vampire” so the other characters can stop the plot to explain them to him. He’s going “I know exactly what a vampire is” and the plot is him getting kicked on his ass with the truth.

So you can have that naive amazement factor, but also still have a character underneath. You can also let that character show off their acclimation into their world by not being afraid to stop making them the ignorant exposition machine.

Just thoughts.

#writing #writeblr #writing a book #writing resources #writing advice #writing tools #writing tips #character development #character design #fantasy #exposition #world building

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mask131 · 9 months ago

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What Oz could have been: The Great and Powerful

I first heard about the original script for Disney's "Oz The Great and Powerful" through a fan art of Theodora by the brilliant artist hwilki65 over at DeviantArt. The fan-art in question is gone now, but do not hesitate to go check the artist's gallery over at DeviantArt, he is one of the most thorough Oz artists of the Internet with tons of clever and beautiful takes on the Ozian world.

Everybody remembers Disney's "Oz The Great and Powerful", right? This Disney movie that attempted to be a prequel to the MGM movie, and yet couldn't really because Disney didn't have the rights? This VERY divise 2013 movie which was a big flop in terms of Oz adaptation? You remember, this thing which took a very cool concept of prequel, a lot of beautiful visuals and impressive visual effects and just... drowned it in cliche plot points, wasted opportunities and the most insufferable characters you ever met?

Yeah, this movie.

In his description for his fan-art, hwilki65 evoked the original scenario for the movie. His fan-art was of the "original" Theodora, not the one from the movie - and while the final product might seem like a simple cash-grab attempting at reclaiming the MGM heritage, these early drafts proved that the movie ACTUALLY started out as much more faithful to the Oz books and more sincere in its attempt at reconciliating the various Oz heritages into something new.

Of course, the idea of a better original version of the movie, that eventually was butchered into the story we can see today, was very intriguing. So I checked out the original script for the movie (but not after YEARS of searching it around, because it wasn't disponible online at first). And OH MY! The original scenario is indeed very different from the final movie, and quite better in term of overall quality! I did a full breakdown of this script back at my Oz side-blog (@witchesoz ), but to give you a taste of what we lost, and to encourage you to go seek this original scenario, here are some key points different from the final movie:

Oscar, the Wizard of Oz. In the movie? A selfish, greedy, womanizing jerk who starts out as the villain of the story, and his evolution arc is basically just him learning to be a decent human being. In the original script? He was such a positive character - in fact I will dare say he was a saner and cleaner version of Jack Sparrow. He was this kind-hearted, goofy, extravagant stage magician VERY good at his job (he was also a ventriloquist like in the novel, AND an escape artist/contortionist), but unfortunately unappreciated by the folks of 1900s USA, so he was forced to do snake-oil selling just to survive. He wasn't motived by greed or lust, but by his day-dreaming and ambition at being the greatest magician of all time, acclaimed by the masses - and the reason he played into "Yes I'm the Wizard of the prophecy" wasn't because of some girls or riches, but simply because Oz was the first place where his magic tricks actually impressed someone.

Remember this little winged monkey fella that Oscar saves the life of in Oz, and so the monkey swears a "life debt" to the wizard and becomes his funny sidekick? In the original script it was the reverse situation. Oscar was helped by a winged monkey, and thanked the talking animal for saving his life, swearing he had a "life debt" TO THE WINGED MONKEY, not the reverse.

In the final movie, when Oscar is in the tornado, he just whimpers and begs for his life. In the original script? He underwent a King Lear-like monologue, insulting the winds and defying the storm, insulting the tornado and daring it to kill him.

Theodora... Oh, Theodora! The character was originally designed as the very opposite of what she ended up as. She wasn't a shy, naive, nice girl - she was this strong, confident, majestic witch. Oscar didn't manipulate her like a teenage girl: she was the one who manipulated Oscar like a puppet by pretending to be a good witch and forcing him into the role of The Wizard of Oz. Yes I say "by pretending" to be a good a witch. Because originally, Theodora was a wicked witch FROM the start. She knew and was in league with her sister's evil plan. The only difference between the two is that Theodora, as the younger and less experimented sister, still had some humanity left in her - feelings of kindness and human decency that the wizard managed to "wake up" by just... being nice to her and treating her like a regular human being. There was the whole "I give you the music box" scene, but it was the reverse? In the original draft Oscar didn't lie, he just gave her a random music box as a gift for helping him in Oz, just out of kindness without expecting anything in return ; and that DID touch Theodora because indeed, since she is a wicked witch, she never had such a genuine gift out of pure kindness.

Originally we would have the backstory of the Cowardly Lion. Theodora, wishing to "test" if the Wizard truly had powers or not, secretely turned a rabbit into a lion, and had it attack Oscar while he was alone and presumably defenseless... Only for the Wizard to shoot it with a gun, causing in this rabbit-lion the fear of humanity.

Originally the servants of the Wicked Witches were the various terrible tribes of the novel "The Emerald City of Oz", monstrous outsiders the Witch sisters had Oz invaded with. The Growleywogs, the Whimsies, the Nomes (well rather the Gnomes)...

In the movie Theodora "turn to evil" is literaly just "Oh, a guy cheated on me, I'm heartbroken, let me nomnom on some evil". In the original draft? SO MUCH BETTER! Evanora, noticing Oscar had rekindled the last piece of goodness in her sister, first tries to convince Oscar he should kill Theodora because she is "in league with the wicked witch". When Oscar refuses to commit murder, Evanora tries to convince Theodora Oscar was trying to kill her... But Theodora doesn't buy it and, even though the Wizard knows she is a Wicked Witch, she still helps him escape Evanora in return for the kindness he showed her. And afterward, Evanora spends many, many scenes abusing her sister, at first verbally, psychologically, finally physically, to convince her to give up on the last of her humanity and enter a deeper, more monstrous stage of wickedness. Theodora does end up burning her skin due to the tears - but they're the tears her sisters make her shed with her torture. And Theodora resists' Evanora poisonous words, only to give up when Glinda causes a siege on the Emerald City and the Witches must prepare themselves to directly confront and fight Oscar.

And can we speak about Glinda? She was SO MUCH closer to the Glinda of the books! She was this majestic, beautiful and powerful warlord-witch living in a grand palace in the south, all on her own (because, since she is a witch, she literaly needs no servant). As soon as she saw Oscar, she cut through his bullshit and shoot down his dream of grandeur, because she knows what real magic is (all Witches do, but the Wicked Witches played along to better manipulate Oscar). She gathers an ACTUAL army of thousand of people to besiege the Emerald City ; and during the war she uses so much more her powers, bu unleashing blinding mists and huge snowstorms, and literaly stopping or unleashing the winds. Oh yes, and all possible romance between Oscar and her is also clearly made impossible when it is revealed that Witches cannot kiss humans - else humans DIE (which also puts Theodora's loneliness under a new light).

Oh yes, and in the original draft, Oscar's development was actually him going from this ambitious daydreamer who only wished for a fantasy land to escape to, where he would be a great and acclaimed wizard... to him actually being fed up with Oz where everybody wants to kill or manipulate him, and dreaming to return to Kansas to settle down with those he truly love, and live there a mundane, quiet, normal life, as a regular man... Something he ends up being forced to give up, because he is needed to prevent the Wicked Witches from overtaking Oz, and so he literaly is trapped within his own dream and forced to give up what he realized too lat was what he wanted all along...

Seriously, the original draft for the movie was SO INSANELY COOL. It was still a rough draft and it had pacing problems, and some cheesy stuff that definitively needed to be cut, and also some weird phrasing that made it sound somehow racist sometimes? But outside of that, the characters and plot were truly so much better than what we got!

#oz the great and powerful #original script #original scenario #what could have been #what oz could have been #theodora #oscar diggs #glinda #oz #script vs movie

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katyspersonal · 8 months ago

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So like... thoughts on Messmer's crew? Not the man himself, just the guys he hired.

I actually found the remaining two Fire Knights just recently! :D I didn't post about it yet, but I assume this is all of them! ...I hope. Shadow's Keep has too many turns. Who knows.

This is sweet how they all are close with Messmer and stood with him no matter what.... Unlike THESE traitors:

(Sorry I forgot to copy the screenshots so have bad phone images fshhds) Like @heraldofcrow said earlier, it is really stupid how they could accept like genocides and whatever but drew the line at him being a snake sdfhfghds Well, Fire Knights definitely didn't!

Queelign was the first one I've met, and apparently in the wrong order since I missed him in Belurat and had to go back there! And I instantly hated that zealot, even before I had the picture of what exactly Fire Knights were!

^ As if Queelign's dialogue was not enough, he also dropped THIS! The reason I will ALWAYS respect Miyazaki no matter what is that he always finds the way to throw a jab at this particular grudge at human race fsdhfdsh

He is still a terrible person, but since then I warmed up to him when I've found some potential in him! He is not only the most fleshed out from the Fire Knights, but also in JUST the right way! He is very passionate and fanatical, but also very genuine and naive with his feelings. And he not only wants to be like Messmer, but also has very strong fixation on Marika! Like I keep joking, she is such a bad mother that even people who aren't her children have mommy issues over her fhhdsf

But he also, interestingly, reflects that weaker, childish part of Messmer that still wants his mom to love him. Whereas Messmer is at least good at repressing it, with Queelign it is completely loose and earnest, and the guy is probably not aware! He IS like a little version of himself in this way.. Not sure whether Messmer dislikes him, or pities him, or maybe at least several times told him to NOT try to be like him! In any case, it is really cool how there is the guy who gives that interesting insight. You could write headcanons essays on the psychology between Queeling and Messmer, or just Queelign. I wrote an essay on what could transpire if Tarnished healed him instead (I believe he dies when we find him, from deadly wounds since we only access his chamber after beating him twice).

Like, you can work with this character, you see what I mean? I never found a similar rambling potential in, say, Alfred or Lautrec. They're religious fanatics too, yet that was exactly ALL I could tell about them. MEANWHILE I've made like FIVE posts about Queelign already and they are all substancial! And, boy, any writer WANTS a strictly cruel, fanatical, irredeemable, negative character to give something to talk about besides just kicking the topic of them being bad. If you are writer, remember to similarly give the topics of discussion to your villains! I agree with what Izunia said earlier:

+ Correction though: Petrus does NOT belong in the list of fanatics xd He has opposite problem! He is a selfish, opportunistic, corrupt, cowardly parasite that benefits from the religious institution and doesn't actually HAVE any beliefs he will kill and die for. He kills for his benefit, like how he killed Reah after her being rescued clearly so she would not rat him out, ie risk his position as elite cleric! There is a good reason why of all cleric/religious/etc characters he is the only one who has no simps!

This guy kicked my ass a couple of times, but if Fire Knights are Messmer's most important people, that makes him second most important person in his army? ...okay third, after his wife Rellana fsdjhdfhssd Really clever how only the captain wears a helmet fashioned after this creature, since he keeps Messmer's military forces in check here

1) I also assume that the "loneliness" Wego experienced was from having outlived the people he held dear as not only being in the military but also elder! Because why else would he be strictly lonely, if he has friends within the covenant? Like look right here, he had a pupil! :p 2) This implies that disagreeing with Messmer was a huge risk.. but not only Messmer spared him, but also actually listened to his request!

So basically, Salza is okay with burning people and their homes, but he draws the line at destruction of like, culture, knowledge and ancient architecture fshfds And not he alone:

It were Fire Knights who asked Messmer to have the Specimen Storehouse, so there is at least historical remains about the species they destroyed! So as funny as the double standard looks, it makes a lot of sense; like it was mentioned earlier, all Fire Knights were nobles at the Erdtree! Of course they have it internalised to preserve culture and knowledge for the future! They all had to be well-educated and well-cultured people, not sympathising with the type of hatred that aims to erase as much as history! And at the same time, being educated didn't help them to consider not participating in the HoLy cRuSaDe to begin with..

And this is so human. It is very realistic. There is a lingering misconception that it is ignorance, poor quality of living, low class, bad past or all at once that makes people prone to crime, but in reality there are criminals in every class and every demographic. We should not attribute the root of all evil, crimes and harmful prejudices only to concrete group, because this is always just a matter of multiple people gathering and deciding to do something. When it is not mistreatment and despair that drives people to evil, it is power and corruption, because people ARE evil by nature.

_______________

So yeah, I really like what they did with this covenant! They did well with giving the sense of each of them being an individual by naming and distinguishing five characters like this! For Soulsborne games, this is rich x) They have some tweaks to their outfits or weapons, they have characterisation that makes them unlike each other, and THIS is what's wild; how so many people that clearly can and always could think for themselves ended up here! Queelign too! I could speculate that Alfred has been indoctrinated and brainwashed since young age, or that Lautrec lost his marbles after some sort of grasp by Fina, but Queelign apparently was no less of a noble that decided to go like his peers, nor he'd be any more embraced by Marika than everyone else with grace! He is Just Like This fshdfhs

They made the covenant very real an interesting. (Also rich for creating OCs if you like writing awful people and want to be close with Messmer 😔)

#elden ring #elden ring dlc #fire knight queelign #(since 50% of the post is just him lol fsdhfhds)#(I know too much attention to this prick but like I said he offers TOPICS)#ask replies #elden ring reference #elden ring observation #fire knights

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rayclan · 2 months ago

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our starting cats! get used to them, you’ll be seeing them a lot :>

individual drawings + extra under the cut

SILVERSTAR

she/her, cis shecat, 46m

- lonesome, natural leader, religious, erratic

- stubborn and hard-headed, she’ll never back down from a fight, often to her own detriment.

HAILCHEST

he/they/she, nonbinary tomcat, 76m

- arrogant, ambitious, perceptive. incredibly intelligent, always seems to be calculating something behind her eyes.

- a clever, trusted advisor to silverstar. thinks he’s better than others because they’re smart.

STEMTUFT

she/her, cis shecat, 111 moons

- cautious with a sharp eye for justice. can come off as cruel or bitter, she just has a hard time getting her words right.

- as a skilled healer, she cares deeply for her patients and her friends. tired most of the time.

STONESHADE

she/her, trans shecat, 99 moons

- vengeful, with an excellent memory, she never forgets a grudge. an eloquent speaker with a silver tongue, stoneshade can talk her way out of anything.

- very compassionate with motherly instincts. she has a tendency to take in stray kits and nurse them back to health (two of which being silverstar and murkwhistle, the rest of her kits left in adulthood, it seems the other two are just momma’s girls)

NETTLEBURN

he/him, cis tomcat, 86m

- an unusually strong fighter, but extremely nervous. he would be a formidable opponent otherwise.

- he is, however, an incredible teacher. he’s quite fond of murkwhistle, his former apprentice.

STORM (the gray one)

he/they, trans tomcat, 92m

- skilled storyteller with a dramatic flair who knows all the tales of old. secretly insecure, but hides it with aloof confidence.

- pair bonded with mask. do not separate.

MASK

she/they, cis shecat, 55 moons

- truly confident in herself, she knows that she knows what she’s doing. seems to know things others don’t, they’re quick to leave any situation that feels off to them.

- quiet, stoic, tends to keep to herself.

MURKWHISTLE

she/her, cis shecat, 24 moons

- compassionate and full of light, usually passed off as being naive, though she’s really not, she’s just had a good life.

- very strong with huge paws for her size and muscles that ripple under her pelt.

???

- we’re not so sure who this is, yet

#clangen #clangen comic #warrior cats #wc #ooc #warrior cats clangen #clangen blog #rayclan #warriors oc #clangen oc #silverstar #hailchest #stemtuft #stoneshade #nettleburn #murkwhistle #mask #storm #starclan

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dyns33 · 8 months ago

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Only wastelands 4

Annnnnd here's part 4 !! I will be honest, I will need some time to finish this series. I know where I'm going, but I can't find the time or energy to write it.

Tag : @one-of-thewalkingdead @coolrobloxkid28 @thebumbqueen @rachmari @ilyvia @justme12200 @honeybunhottie @savanahc @gobbodoggo @bisasterbisexual @killingboredom @bonafideyapper @i-simp-for-mha-men @pixelatedprofilepic @ultimatreality @chattersstuff @harmfulb1tch @hellolettuce444 @miketastic25 @darkangel4121 @avidreadee123 @kaitttttttt @nullx1ety

It would have been a lie to say that Y/N hadn't prayed that Janey would be a better traveling companion to Lucy. The vaultie was not bad, but far too naive, talkative, not listening to advices.

Maybe she had been heard, or Cooper had been a great father, but the little girl was a true angel.

Obviously very clever for her age, she didn't need long explanations to see that the world had changed, that it was dangerous, and that it was a good idea to follow Y/N without asking too many questions.

Of course Janey still had some questions. This was perfectly normal. But she waited until they were safe, often before sleeping, to look at Y/N with her big, innocent eyes.

“Are we going to see dad soon ?”

"… Yes. He's not far away." the woman said as she checked her pitboy.

If the information was correct, Lucy was only a few days' walk away, and if Coop was still with her, then he would be reunited with his daughter soon. 219 years without seeing her, without any news, no clue on her location, and the almost evaporated hope of finding her still alive.

Of the things Y/N hadn't yet explained to Janey, the time that had passed since her forced separation from her father was one of the most complicated. The child probably thought she would find the man in the picture, smiling and with pink skin.

She nervously repeated that Cooper had been ill, but couldn't elaborate. Each time, Janey responded that her daddy was strong, and that he would get better soon, especially if they helped him.

Impossible to contradict this adorable child.

If she wanted to lie again, Y/N would have said that she wasn't walking as fast as she could because she wasn't sure what would happen when Janey saw her father. That would probably be a shock. Was she going to scream ? Cry ? Be afraid of him ?

It would break Cooper's heart. And she could repeat that she hated him, that she didn't care at all about his fate, Y/N didn't want to hurt him like that. Anyhow, but not like that.

There was also the possibility that he would react badly to seeing her. Vault Tech was so monstrous, they would have been able to clone Janey, or create a robot that looked like her, or even brainwash her at her mother's request.

He could also think that he had become too monstrous to approach such a pure being without harming her.

Maybe he had abandoned Y/N, thinking only of himself, but he would never do that to his own daughter. She couldn't believe it. The problem was that he would want the best for her, and he might think that was keeping his distance.

Y/N had imagined all these possibilities, but in reality, she knew perfectly well that they would just be happy to have each other again. If she was afraid, it was mainly for herself. For them.

She had been running from him for three years. Not that he seemed to be looking for her, but she had promised herself that their paths would never cross again or it would end badly.

She was not thinking of killing him. First because she had no chance against this cowboy, but above all because Y/N may have hated him for what he had done, she still loved him too much to really want his misfortune.

That was probably why everything was still very painful.

When the Pitboy beeped to indicate that they had arrived at their destination, Y/N observed the ruined building, Janey's hand still holding hers, awaiting orders.

Although fear kept one alive in the wastelands, one should never hesitate. Never.

Cautiously, motioning to the little girl not to make any noise, they approached what was obviously Lucy and the Ghoul's hiding place for the night.

With another gesture, Y/N indicated to Janey to stay at the end of the corridor, while she checked the place, until she found what they were looking for. And if necessary, she should flee.

As none of her reactions were normal, the vaultie seemed happy to see her, greeting her with a huge smile.

Sitting in a corner, hand on his rifle, Cooper didn't look so happy. Surprised, yes, nervous too. With a mixture of sadness and anger. Not really open to a reunion.

But he had celebrated their separation, he had no reason to want to see her again.

Y/N stared at his gun, wondering if he was going to shoot. No movement showed he intended to harm her, but he kept his hand on the trigger. Maybe he thought she was going to try something.

Slowly, so as not to rush him, and ignoring Lucy's long tirades about everything that had happened to them in New Vegas where they had not found her father, Y/N made Janey understand that she could come.

The weapon fell to the floor as she walked through the door. The hatred completely disappeared from Cooper Howard's eyes.

He just sat there, petrified by this vision of his past.

The poor kid shook a little, clinging to Y/N, not understanding what they were doing with these people. So Y/N got down on her level.

"This is Lucy, she was in a shelter like you and me. And… Janey. Janey, here's your father." she whispered with an uncertain voice.

The child looked at her, searching for a lie or joke on her face, before turning back to the Ghoul, who still hadn't moved.

It may have been instinct, the call of blood, or the great intelligence of this kid, but then she found her smile again, finally recognizing the man who was standing there.

"Daddy !"

While he had been stuck since their arrival, Cooper didn't hesitate for a second when Janey ran towards him. He opened his arms to welcome her, lifting her to embrace her tenderly, breathing a sigh of relief that he had been hoping for for two centuries.

Lucy didn't understand everything that was happening, but she placed a hand on her heart in front of this scene, knowing that she had to keep quiet for once. Nothing should spoil this moment.

"Janey… My lil cowgirl…" sobbed Cooper. "You're okay. You're here."

"I missed you, dad. Why didn't you come with me in the car ?"

"He… I told you, there was no more room. I was supposed to join you later, but there were problems. I'm sorry, my angel. I wanted to come."

“Mom said you left me.”

"Your mother… Your mother will have had bad information. I would never have left you. I would always come for you."

The sentence echoed in Y/N’s mind. A broken promise. Without really thinking about it, she touched the picture she always kept in her bag. If it had been of value to Cooper, it hadn't been enough for him to come get her.

Now that he had found Janey, that photo was forgotten. It was long forgotten, like Y/N, who no longer had any value.

At least this story would have a nice ending. Their paths had crossed so that she could bring back his little daughter. He had saved her, she had saved them. They were even now.

Still silent, she left the room, then the building, without attracting attention. Lucy was too busy crying, while Coop obviously only had eyes for his child.

By the time they realized she was gone, Y/N would already be far away.

Maybe the vaultie would want to follow her, thinking about using her pitboy, but there was no reason the cowboy would want the same thing. If his daughter wasn't enough, he would continue to search for the old MacLean, for Barbara, all those responsible for the end of the world.

But not Y/N. Even to thank her. He hadn't looked for her in 3 years, he had no reason to start now.

So it was a surprise when something passed around her at lightning speed, stopping her in her tracks as she was about to advance towards the desert.

It had been a long time, but she remembered that damn lasso and the habit of its owner perfectly.

“Leaving so soon, sweetheart ?”

Why wasn't he with Janey ? Why stop her ? Why not be happy to see her go, like last time ? He already had Lucy to annoy him, and even if he loved her, it wouldn't be easy to survive in this world with a child. Why make her suffer like this ? Why make her believe that she was important ?

She could ask him all these questions and finally get real answers, but Y/N was scared.

No sound came out of her mouth as she turned to face Cooper, who had regained his cold gaze. This blur between despair and hatred. As if he had a reason to be angry with her.

“Think we need to talk.” he said in a slow voice. “A real conversation, sugar.”

And from the man who hated idle chatter, long explanations, and really all human interaction, that was something.

#fall out #the ghoul #cooper howard #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard imagine #cooper howard fanfiction

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rottenbrainstuff · 1 month ago

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Oh dang. Nah fam, I’ve been talking to folks and I think people generally do NOT get the apple symbolism with Caleb. Man I feel like I’m becoming a spokesperson for this character that isn’t even my fav, I just think they made some interesting choices with him and I wish people understood it. So imma talk about it.

Ok the apple theme: why is Caleb always holding apples?

This is a very classic biblical reference which pops up a lot in western media. The apple was the forbidden fruit in the garden of eden. Adam and Eve were created completely innocent and naive, but eating this fruit would give Adam and Eve knowledge of good and evil. God told them it was forbidden to ever eat it. A snake (widely assumed to be the devil, but actually not ever specifically named as such) convinced Eve to eat the apple, and then she convinced Adam, and that got them in trouble and kicked out of the garden, etc etc etc.

So, apples (especially apples paired with snakes, you kids remember the ending of the lemony snicket book series?) represent knowledge, especially forbidden knowledge, the temptation of sin, etc. Taking a bite out of an apple is symbolic of committing the sin, gaining forbidden knowledge, losing innocence, etc.

So Caleb paired with apples is so incredibly interesting to me. I loved the scene in caged bird where he offers MC an apple, which she does not accept, just before he starts to go off about his frustration about his feelings not being returned. The shot ends once again focused on the apple, discarded on the ground. Every time he is offering or eating an apple is suggestive. That card (which I don’t have yet, but I’ve seen the clip) with the oddly uncomfortable close up of the two of them allllmost biting into an apple together is extremely symbolic of them being tempted to commit this taboo thing they know they’re not supposed to do.

It’s actually really cool, a neat choice of symbol and theme. Again Caleb isn’t my fav, but I feel like folks are missing some of the clever choices that were made, so here I am pointing it out, for no one to care about, most likely lmao.

#love and deepspace #love & deepspace #love and deepspace caleb #lads caleb

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esperfruit · 9 months ago

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TTTE Human AU reference sheets and bios Part 3

Mavis Stephenson

Age: 23

Height: 175 cm

Mavis is a feisty young woman and full of ideas. Eager to show what she is capable of, yet she still lacked experience when she moved to Sodor. She was placed under Toby’s tutoring, who she did not like very much at the start. She actively went against his advice after she was told by Diesel Toby was a stuck up wanna-be know-it-all, insisting on doing everything her own way much to Toby’s frustration. Tired of Mavis' antics he left her with a difficult task all by her own and when she failed and Toby helped her out, she started to take his advice finally seriously. Mavis gladly became Toby’s student but still liked to put her own spin on things.

Over time she became less naive and open to bad impressions. Mavis matured into a responsible, creative and eager hard worker. Her way of approaching things from different perspectives has also proven to be very helpful at many occasions, having fallen into good graces with many. Having zero patience for mischief, she frequently berates the twins Bill and Ben. The two were intimidated by her unbreakably determined attitude at first but quickly started to find her cool, looking up to her as an older sister, calling her “Big Sis Mavis”.

She loves her work but she also wished to see more of the island and expand her horizons, so she accompanied Thomas and Percy on one of their escapades once, resulting in them becoming friends. Mavis is still very stubborn and when she starts something, she wants to finish it no matter what tries to stop her. The same stubbornness resulted in her collapsing once when she tried to finish a job despite a sprained ankle, leading her to be carried to an infirmary by Diesel, who took a liking in Mavis and her being the first person he was genuinely nice to.

Diesel’s affection for her grew more and more obvious to Mavis especially when he tried to keep her away from her usual workplace to spend more time with her. While not approving of his antics, she decided to be patient with him as Mavis is able to see past his devious demeanor. When Diesel finally made efforts to better himself, he tried and fumbled to confess to Mavis. Still getting the message, Mavis kindly rejected him as she likes him platonically and offered him her friendship instead, which he happily accepted.

Mavis overall is one of the island’s most enthusiastic and creative people, who strives to always improve herself and find new methods to solve problems unseen by others, carrying an almost infectious confidence and optimism with her.

Rosie Hill

Age: 16

Height: 164 cm

Rosie was born and raised in Scranton, Pennsylvania, USA and moved to Sodor when she was 14 due to her parents’ work. She is lively, sweet, energetic and quick to act. Most of the time she needs something to do in order to not become nervous from understimulation. Rosie is Thomas’ classmate and she quickly began to idolize him, imitating Thomas, which only irritated him. However, they managed to become friends, Rosie stopped imitating him and she is often invited to hang out with Thomas and Percy. Her parents disapprove of her friendship with Thomas but she happily ignores that despite usually being a very obedient daughter.

She was raised very American and still has problems adjusting to Sodor’s culture but she is eager to learn regardless. Even though she is very extroverted, she still struggles with some social cues, very often misunderstanding what others mean and getting into trouble despite only having good intentions. Rosie is easily intimidated by very tall people and gets silent when being yelled at thanks to her very strict parents. She looks up to women like Mavis, Emily and Daisy and after a helpful talk with Mavis managed to grow courage and stand up for herself when her father threatened to make her transfer to a boarding school on the Mainland if she won’t stop being friends with Thomas.

Rosie has shown to be clever, dependable, a good student, free-spirited, humorful and reveals to be quite tomboyish when she’s not with her parents. She likes to have moped races with Thomas or bike races with Percy and she can give great motivational speeches and directly opposes any mistreatment towards others or herself.

On Valentine's Day Diesel, Bill and Ben made fun of how close Rosie and Thomas were, teasing them to be a couple. Irritating Thomas and embarrassing Rosie, led to him avoiding her for most of the day and Rosie felt very hurt. After some inner turmoil on both sides, they decided to set things straight, revealing they both care a lot for each other as friends. Rosie also said she always wanted a sibling and she is delighted that Thomas is like a dear brother to her.

Bertie Leyland

Age: 31

Height: 181 cm

A joyful and whimsical local bus driver. Bertie always welcomes his passengers with a warm and wide smile and a jolly honk-honk from his buse’s horn and says goodbye with a bright “toodle-peep”, making him very beloved by many people. He has a strong attachment to his red single-deck bus and cleans it everyday after his shift. Loving his work and putting a lot of passion into it, Bertie wants to make sure his passengers always have a pleasant and punctual ride. Bertie is genuinely very nice and is always open for a little chat but he also likes to get cheeky with others from time to time and has a boastful side as well.

Nothing ever seems to break his joyful attitude, only getting upset when he runs late, gets stuck or when something might cause or really does cause damage to his bus. He has a rough relationship with his co-worker Bulgy, who is annoyed by Bertie’s cheerfulness and being kept in line by him.

Bertie is a trusty ally of the kids of Thomas’ school as he daily drives them to school and back home, always stopping when a kid barely misses the bus to let them hop on. His helpful and whimsical nature has brought him into many crazy scenarios with Thomas, who he often calls his “little blue friend”.

With Bertie’s inexhaustible cheerfulness it is hard to believe he used to be very down on his luck in the past. Permanently injuring his shoulder in an accident, ruining his potential career as a rugby player, failing university, inheriting his late father’s debts, getting into many other unpleasant situations and even getting abandoned by everyone around him and ending up homeless for a while. It was when he finally got his job as a bus driver on Sodor when he finally found peace and could be the ray of sunshine he naturally is.

Daisy Cammell

Age: 40

Height: 172 cm

Daisy is a lady, who describes herself as a “highly sprung and up to date beauty”. She was

troublesome when she moved from France to Sodor and just started working there. Being rather lazy, refusing to do extra work or manipulating others into doing her work for her. She was an irrational, self-obsessed diva, who constantly belittered others and talked them down.

However, her vanity and stubbornness got her in trouble on multiple occasions with people like Toby, Annie and Clarabel. Her misbehavior brought her in so many uncomfortable situations that she decided to better herself for her sake and others’.

Despite changing for the better, she still is highly authoritative, snarky, snobbish and easily irritated but that is now paired with using her strictness to bring order instead, trustworthiness, engagement, benevolence and a good sense of humor.

She lets Ryan live in the apartment complex she runs and looks after him, developing motherly feelings for the young Gresley. Daisy also became friends with Harvey despite Diesel trying to cause discord between them and also made up with Annie and Clarabel.

When Diesel accidentally hospitalized Daisy after playing a prank on her, the guilt became too much for him and he sneaked into her hospital room to apologize to her while she pretended to be asleep and learned that he secretly likes her. Daisy did forgive him in the end but decided to not let him off the hook that easily and invited him to have a serious talk where she taught him that if he really wants to make friends, he seriously had to change his ways just like she did in the past. Diesel took her words to heart, genuinely making an effort to change, and to support the young man, she offered him a spot at her apartment complex and invited him to talks whenever he needed some.

Daisy found a great liking to Emily as she found her strong personality very attractive and the two began to meet up more and more until the two women decided to start a relationship.

Paxton Doncaster

Age: 21

Height: 174 cm

Paxton is a gentle, young man, who recently just finished secondary school alongside his best friends Sidney Horwich and Norman Bulleid. The trio applied to jobs on Sodor and were all taken, all three of them moved into Daisy’s apartment complex and started into their work life with much enthusiasm. He struggled at school due to his short attention span but he managed to push through and graduate eventually even if it was close.

Paxton has a very loving and supportive family and his parents always looked out for him. They were worried about their son moving away because despite being very proud he turned out to be such a good-hearted person, they also know he’s very gullible, naive and easily taken advantage of. He used to be tricked by his peers constantly and he never fought back because he did not notice he was tricked or was too scared to do so. He also takes sarcasm literally, confusing others and himself. Paxton is more of a follower than a leader and finds making big decisions very stressful, letting Norman usually call the shots in their group activities. Surprisingly, Paxton is very self-aware, knowing about all his flaws and he also knows, he can’t really change it as this is just how he is.

Wanting to become friends with Diesel because he thought he seemed lonely, he fell right into Devious Diesel’s traps, being taken advantage of on multiple occasions. Like when he unintentionally helped Diesel to accuse Luke murdering the to that time missing Victor but his conscience and good will helped him to make everything right again because Paxton is always willing to do the right thing and is even able to gain unexpected mental strength when he has to help someone.

He never gave up on Diesel and was very happy and proud when the latter actually wanted to change.

There are times where he can show some cunningness and has wisened-up from experience, which are mostly displayed when he helps others when they have to teach someone a lesson. Despite believing himself to not be very smart, he loves solving mysteries, no matter how tricky and his eyes lighten up whenever he finds a clue.

When Paxton, Sidney and others were trapped in a cave because of a landslide, he stepped up and gained the courage to speak up and keep everyone calm until help would arrive, taking on the role of a leader he never thought to be capable of. Paxton supported Sidney, who was having a panic attack when he got injured while trapped in the cave, giving first aid and calming him down. After three hours they were finally freed and Paxton had received some new found respect from many and he and Sidney have grown closer severely thanks to the incident.

Nia Kimani

Age: 19

Height: 176 cm

A young, enthusiastic woman from Kenya in East Africa. Nia was pendling from job to job, still trying to find her true calling, having gained a lot of experience already despite her young age. When she was traveling to her next job interview, she saw a boy in blue trying to help someone push a broken down rally car up a hill and offered her help as her motto is “two heads are better than one”. After they were able to help the driver, they took both of them to the next city. The blue boy introduced himself as Thomas Billington from Sodor in the UK and the rally car’s driver as Ace Canley from Australia. According to Ace, the two young men are traveling around the world to find clues about “Gold Dust” and Thomas said he joined in to find his missing parents and to help a friend called “Lady”.

Nia was nothing but confused at first but found the whole objective rather interesting and because she was an orphan without a family to return to, she thought it was a good opportunity to find her place to stay somewhere out there and joined them. Quickly Nia learned Ace was nothing but bad news and that he and Thomas were not friends but Thomas was only following for his own objectives. She and the young boy became friends over their journey through Africa and Brazil and Nia found out Thomas was being manipulated by Ace into doing all of this and he actually wanted to return home despite having fun traveling and wanting to find answers.

After arriving in San Francisco, California in the USA, Nia forced Ace to let Thomas go home before he could get into any more danger. Unable to find any answer for her own goal, Nia thought she had to return home to Kenya but Thomas suggested joining him to Sodor and she gladly agreed. Thanks to Thomas convincing Sir Topham Hatt to hire Nia as a contract worker for the time being until she could become a full-fledged employee, Nia finally found a place to stay.

Nia, who was very protective of Thomas and became like an older sister to him, quickly fell into good graces with his caretakers Edward, Annie and Clarabel, who were very grateful to her for watching out for him while he was dragged into Ace’s mess. She also formed a friendship with the other newbie Rebecca, who was currently struggling with her assigned mentor. She is the one of those, who stayed back at Sodor when an excursion team was formed to go around the world again to find clues about Gold Dust way more effectively.

She has a positive attitude, is adventurous, always open for new experiences, a good problem solver and has a strong belief in friendship. She is very protective of her younger peers and always looks out for them, particular Thomas, Percy. Rosie and Rebecca. Nia is good-mannered but can become very scary when angered and does not hold back when she seems it appropriate to lash out on troublesome people like Ace. A side of hers she tries is her sensitivity and strong fear of being ignored or abandoned.

Rebecca Bulleid

Age: 18

Height: 168 cm

The daughter of the head of the wealthy Bulleid Group. Rebecca was recruited to work for Sir Topham Hatt, mostly for business relationships but also the Fat Controller needed new personnel to make up for many of his best workers leaving for the Great Excursion. She was placed under Gordon’s tutoring, who was at a low point in his life at the time and despised her and Nia at first because he thought they were there to replace Edward and Henry, who were chosen for the Excursion while he stayed back on Sodor. It was a very difficult road to get there but she managed to grow on Gordon in the end after all and he became her proud and caring mentor.

Rebecca has a big heart and is usually happy-go-lucky and cheerful but also has a very insecure side as she fears to be inferior to her seniors, can get anxious whenever she fails to meet expectations and feels that she might be seen as a liability, something that was started by Gordon when he still hated her and constantly insulted her. She is also on the more clumsy side and acts humble whenever she causes a mishap.

Rebecca is always willing to see the good in others and is quite gullible and oblivious in a similar way to Paxton. She often fails to read the room and causes a lot of confusion like when Diesel tried to be rude to her but her unconventional way of thinking just left him puzzled or when she used to anger Gordon due to being unable to understand his hardships.

Adrean “Diesel 10” Diesel

Age: 51

Height: 199 cm

Heartless leader of a nations-wide feared crime syndicate, Adrean is the tenth in line as the head of the dangerous Diesel family and goes by Diesel 10 or D10 for that reason. D10 rules his organization with an iron fist and does not hesitate to serve cruel punishments towards those who irritate or disappoint him, including his own nephew Darius, who he raised himself after his parents’ passing. He is ruthless, cold, arrogant and unhinged through and through as he tends to break out in loud cackles out of nowhere. His lack of reason and common sense, made him replace his left arm with a hydraulic claw he named “Pinchy” and even speaks to it from time to time, unironically believing it speaks back to him.

He is really strong and someone to be truly feared in combat and only has some back -up from his two henchmen Splatter and Dodge in the background. His sadism makes him toy with his prey until he gets bored or they “break by accident”. Said sadism is also displayed in other forms of abuse Darius had experienced most of his life in order to get “toughened-up” by his uncle, only making him end up to be terrified by D10.

One day his research team learned about Gold Dust and a mysterious entity called “Lady”. Wanting to gain that power for himself, D10 sent Darius to Sodor for intel. After taking too long, D10 decided to take matters into his own hands. All of this culminates into a large confrontation with some inhabitants of the island and the goddess Lady. D10 managed to land a fatal blow on Lady but he himself ended up falling off a cliff, getting hurt severely in the process. He might be out of commission for the time being but the evil mafia boss plans his dreadful return.

Lady

Age: unknown

Height: 166 cm

The goddess of a hidden world of spirits called Shining Time and the guardian of Gold Dust. Not knowing how she ended up where she is now and what her true purpose is with her role, she wandered around the Island of Sodor and has only been spotted a handful of times but her existence still only remained a mythos. One fateful day, she was fatally injured by D10 and fell down an abyss to her demise. But she was found by Thomas, who carried the Golden Whistle with him at the time. In order to survive in any way, she gave up her body and transferred her soul into the Golden Whistle but lost all of her memories as a result.

Now housed in the Golden Whistle, she can only be seen and heard by Thomas and can barely interact with the world around her. She made the conclusion that to regain her lost memories, to help Thomas find his parents and Hiro to move on into the afterlife, she has to uncover the truth behind the Golden Whistle and the Gold Dust, which she can only do with Thomas by her side. Thomas and Lady did not get along at first, mostly through their clashing personalities and because Thomas blames her on many tragedies that happened that were in correlation with Gold Dust. They managed to become friends in the end and Thomas promised Lady to help her regain her lost memories out of kindness and not only in self-interest.

Lady is gentle, kind and smart. She has a good heart, genuinely wants the best for everyone and hates seeing others get hurt. But her amnesia and position as an otherworldly being makes her oblivious and feel disconnected to humans and their customs and really wishes to understand them regardless if it is useful to her cause or not. Her rational mind also makes it difficult for her to comprehend more complex human emotions, getting into many misunderstandings because of it. Despite her initial struggles to understand them, she truly grew to love the people on the island she wandered for so many years and wants to protect them at all cost from evil forces that are after her.

#thomas the tank engine #thomas and friends #ttte human au #ttte mavis #ttte rosie #ttte bertie #ttte daisy #ttte paxton #ttte nia #ttte rebecca #ttte diesel 10 #ttte lady #ttte humanized

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smilesatdawnmain · 4 months ago

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Xiaohua:

Haoyu: Haoyu is a man that Xiaohua really respects and worries about. To him, Haoyu is strong, brave- and such a naive fool. Xiaohu often goes to Haoyu when he is upset and needs someone to cry to. Yet, if someone messes with Haoyu in return by trying to trick him, Xiaohua is PISSED. To him his brother is the sweetest person in the world and how dare the world try to trick this sweet man! Xioahua does have the bad habit of pissing off more powerful beings than him, and then running to hide behind his big brother for help- often getting away with this little game as none can beat Haoyu in return.

MK: Xiaohua has a terrible habit of making dares with his brother. These dares could be anything to, who can hold their breath the longest, daring the other to run around the entire mountain three times, or even star at the sun the longest. It’s like the little brain cells Xiaohua does have completely disappears when in the presence of his twin. Xiaohua has far more confidence in MK than MK does in himself, so he often “volunteers” MK for tasks that MK otherwise would be nervous about accepting because he doubts himself. MK would be the “perfect star child” if it was not for Xiaohua dragging him into his schemes.

Sying: If Xiaohua had to say who the most annoying sibling is, it would have to be Sying. For the single fact that she wont leave him alone! As a person who cares very little about training, only training because his parents force him, it is very annoying that his little sister is always tackling him out of nowhere insisting they spar. And, as Xiaohua is the only older sibling Sying feels she has a chance to beat, she is constantly chasing him down, even chasing him into his own shadows. Growing up he often has to run to Macaque to whine and plead for Macaque for force Sying to leave him alone and go bother someone else. Out of all the siblings, Xiaohua and Sying are the biggest crybabies.

Savage: The greatest challenger to Savage’s pranks, Xiaohua quite enjoys ruining his brother’s schemes. While he does not stop Savage from pranking anyone else, it is quite the feat for Savage to even come close to properly pranking Xiaoxiao. His brother often sneers and points out the prank instead, pointing out it’s flaws and how he would have done it better. This does help Savage however improve the craft- much to his family’s dismay. Being the only other siblings in the family who are twins, Xiaohua and Savage have an ongoing joke of “Twin power”, and then when the twins are together they are strongest, but when both sets of twins are together, they are all powerful.

Rumble: When they were younger, Xiaohua had a bad habit of always picking up Rumble and carrying him around. Rumble and savage were so little and always clung to their sibling’s backs. So even older, Rumble is often leaning into Xiaohua when he is close enough, and likes piggy back rides from his big brother. Xiaohua and Rumble practice music together. Xiaohua playing the violin and and Rumble playing the piano. They have made songs together as well. Bao will join in with the rehearsal and sing. (Could make a full band with MK on drums,)

Xue: If Xiaohua had to admit he has a favorite, it would be MK… followed very closely by Xue. The amount of pride he feels with how clever she is something he can’t find the words to say aloud. She’ll often rush into his room with her book of schemes and the two will just listen to “Tea and Noodles” while planning out how they’ll rule the world. Xiaohua doesn’t share her ambitions, but he sure does add some body to her already staggering plan. If she did ever take over the world, he swears to be her most trusted advisor. Considered the “flowers” of the family. …flowers with thorns, maybe.

Bao: Xiaohua and Bao Are the Band “Tea and Noodle’s” biggest fans. They squeal about their adoration to the band together and wildly collect any merch they can get their paws on. Bao often comes into Xiaohua and MK’s room to snuggle, talk of music, and just be around their brothers. Xiaohua often babies Bao in the sense he can’t say no to them and often gives them gifts all the time. Xiaohua has a good way of describing people and things that Bao can grasp, so often times Bao goes to Xiaohua when they wish to understand how something looks- colors, shapes.

Previous sibling (MK)

Next Sibling (Sying)

#lego monkie kid #lmk #answer #lmk mk #xiaoxiao #big family au #Xiaohua

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unfixablebabyyy · 10 months ago

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so i just read You and was obsessed w the perspective and also i just love getting a lil peak into dennis's brain so this is a something i wrote idk (also slightly inspired by that one meme of that anime girl lol)

(nsfw, minors DNI)

Dee's taste in... well, everything is absolutely abhorrent, but her taste in people is especially repugnant, which is why I can't fathom why such a striking creature would ever consider her a friend. What do you see in her? She's annoying and rude and abrasive, but you, you're none of those things. And I knew that the second I met you, but I had to be sure. So for the last week or so I've been doing a bit of research and it turns out, you really are just perfect- kind, smart, fun, absolutely stunning. Your only flaw lies in the fact that you're so incredibly naive. You leave your doors unlocked, your windows open, you always walk around the city with headphones on and your face in your phone. You're such an easy target. Don't you know how sick the world can be? But it's ok, it's not your fault- you're prey. Good thing I've got my eye on you. I'll protect you, even if it means you never go outside off leash again.

And now, as you sit across the bar from me, I can smell your perfume and I just want to drown in it, in you. You're half turned away, joking with Charlie as he throws darts, and from your side profile I can make out the tiny bumps of your nipples under your shirt. The past three nights you've come with Dee to the bar, you haven't worn a bra. You're clever, but not subtle. It's beyond cute. When you turn to me, I make sure my gaze lingers on your chest a second too long. I want you to know that I noticed.

"Hey!" I could never get tired of your voice. I need to know what it sounds like after a long night of crying.

"I.D., please."

You giggle. I've been carding you since the first night you came in, it's become a joke between us. Really, I just love reminding myself how young you are. When you hand it over, I brush my fingers against yours. I pretend to examine it and nod approvingly before handing it back. You grin, and this time, you brush your fingers against mine.

"Alright, what can I get you?"

You bite your lip, "Surprise me." Of course you want me to decide for you. I smile. I could surprise you. I could slip you something and we could have a night full of surprises. But not yet.

"You got it." And I know exactly what I'll make you- I saw the cranberry juice in your fridge and the vodka on your counter while doing my research. You were at work.

"Just don't make it too strong." Don't worry, I won't start making them strong until you're at least three in. Your eyes go wide as the song playing over the jukebox changes from some Dire Straits Mac had put on to Depeche Mode. "Personal Jesus". Kind of on the nose, but you won't notice.

"Oh my god I fucking love this song," you're so bubbly, and I know, I saw the album sitting on your record player. That's why I queued it up when Dee mentioned you'd be stopping by.

"I saw them when I was in middle school," don't forget, I'm old enough to be your daddy. I was in my twenties when you were born. You like that- I can tell by the way your cheeks get a little more pink.

"Ugh you're so lucky, I would love it if they toured again," I slide you your drink and smile.

"Well, if they do, I'll take you." Did your dad ever buy you concert tickets? I bet he did.

"Then it's a date," now you're really blushing, "or whatever." You're so sweet it's making me lightheaded. 'Or whatever'? So submissive. I imagine if I were to take a bite out of you I might get a toothache.

"It can be a date," of course it's a date. You bring your drink to your lips and sip and god I wish I could just reach over and taste you. You smile as you set it down.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think maybe you like me," Like you? Last night I was looking at custom dog bowls for the cage I'm going to put you in. I can't sleep at night without touching myself to the thought of cumming inside of you, marking you, making you mine. I don't like you, I want to cut you open and crawl inside of your ribs and hold your heart in my hands.

"You're adorable," I could rip you apart with my teeth. You cross your legs and readjust in your seat. Again, not subtle. I wonder just how wet you are. I mean Jesus Christ, all I have to do is look at you and I can practically hear that little lamb heart beating in your chest, and I can only wear this wool for so long. Sooner or later you're going to see the teeth and the claws. Maybe they'll scare you, maybe not. Either way, it won't matter when they're making you bleed, and judging by how red your face gets when I speak to you, I think you'll bleed easy. Bruise easy, too.

"Do you flirt with all of your sister's friends?" you're starting to get a little bolder. I lean in so that my face is inches from yours, like I have a secret. Your eyelashes flutter.

"No. Only you," I won't play your games, I want my intensity to bring you to your knees. The last couple of days have been fun- toying with you, making you wonder whether my charming smiles and compliments and gentle touches were platonic or not. But it's time to show you who's in charge. You bite your lip. I swear to god I can smell the pheromones on you.

It doesn't take me long to get you drunk enough to slip out the back door with me while everyone else argues over a game of pool. You really are such a lightweight. As the door swings shut behind us, I cup your little face in my hands and press my lips to yours. I don't want to. What I want to do is rip your clothes off and pull you to the ground and watch as the panic begins to rise when I slap my hand over your pretty mouth to muffle you. But that could be dangerous and I have to control myself. You kiss me back and slip your hands under my t-shirt where they roam across my chest, up my shoulders, down my back. It's giving me goosebumps and making it harder not to hurt you. I decide to test my limits. When I push you up against the rough brick exterior, I shove a little too hard and you yelp. But it only seems to make you want me more. So when I lean in to kiss you again, I bite down on your bottom lip, and you moan. Of course you're one of those girls. You love the abuse.

My hand finds your neck and you gasp even though I don't tighten my grip- I just want you to know I could- I want to. Someday I will- I'll choke you so hard and for so long you'll pass out, and then I'll smack your face until you wake up, just to do it again. I'll make you beg for the privilege of breathing. But not tonight. If I ever want to get to that point, I have to stay focused. Besides, just the feeling of my fingertips on your throat is turning you on- I can feel a wet patch forming on my knee where I shoved my leg between yours.

The heat of your body is making your perfume stronger and I feel like I'm going insane, like I'm on the verge of doing something depraved. You push your hand into the waistband of my jeans, then my boxers, and I can't help but growl when your fingers wrap around my cock. As you start pumping your hand up and down, I lose myself for a moment and dig my fingers into your neck. You whine, and when I release, I notice the dark red crescents my nails left on your soft skin.

It's best if I make my hands busy, so I work on the button of your pants as you continue to play with me. I groan into your neck as you squeeze me hard. Pretty soon I'm going to have to pin your wrists to the wall. When you do it again I bite your neck hard enough to serve as a warning and you quickly soften your grip as your jeans inch down just enough. Good girl.

You shiver as the night air breathes down the alley. I can feel your pulse in your cunt as I touch you over your panties. You're so pathetic, you easy little whore. I haven't even bought you dinner and you're already about to let me fuck you stupid next to a dumpster behind my bar. But I won't. I'm gonna make you beg for it. I want you to be so achy and needy for my cock you'll let me do anything to you. I can't fuck you tonight, you haven't earned it.

I sigh and retract my hand. "You're drunk," I press my lips into the crook of your neck and practically feel you deflate against the wall. "Why don't I take you home?"

"Oh," your voice is so sweet and soft, "ok."

I pull away and brush a loose strand of hair from your face before planting a kiss on your lips. Relax, angel. I'm not done with you. You pull your hand out of my pants and the absence almost hurts.

"My car's just down the street, I'll tell Dee you got sick," I brush my thumb across your cheek and peck your forehead before snaking my arm around your waist and leading you down the alleyway. At the end, before we step onto the sidewalk, you stop.

"Did I do something?" Your eyes are so big.

"Consent is really important," I lie, "I just want you to feel safe with me," it'll be all the more enjoyable for me when you realize you're not. My answer seems to satisfy you.

When we get to my Range Rover, you raise an eyebrow, "Nice car."

"Thanks, Frank bought it for me when I got into Penn," it doesn't matter if it's true, now you think I know how to take care of something for a long time. I've established my ability to commit.

"Jesus, isn't that Ivy League?" And just like that, you see that I belong to an elite community of scholars.

"Yeah."

In the Range, you begin looking through my CD collection, pulling out albums you recognize, asking about ones you don't. You like old music, old cars, old men. You mention that your dad introduced you to Christopher Cross, so of course I slip it into the radio and skip to Sailing and tell you it's my favorite, which is true, but I happen to know it's yours, too.

I pretend to be lost and ask you where to go even though I've made the drive at least 20 times in the last week. When we get to your place, I park the car right outside of the familiar front doors and look up at your dark window.

"Are you sure you don't want to come in?" you spread your legs ever so slightly. So obvious.

"How about I cook you dinner tomorrow night," you'll act like a whore when I say, first I've got to teach you some manners.

"When?" you don't want to leave.

"I'll call you." Get out.

You step out onto the curb and wave.

"Goodnight," I say and you turn and head in. I don't leave until I know you're inside, safe. In fact, I don't really leave at all. I park the Range a block away and walk back. Your light is still off, but even in the darkness, I can see you up there. You really should close your curtains, especially when you're inside, naked and panting, humping your pillow like a bitch in heat.

#dennis reynolds #it's always sunny in philadelphia #dennis x reader

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