#also if this made no sense tell me to change it

[k1tty5]

I would like to make it clear that I do NOT want anyone’s firstborns, but I will ramble. for you.

rambles about the process and other thoughts under the cut! I talk a LOT, so… view at your own risk?

I originally had this idea a couple months ago, I think when I first heard the song. I had made a little test for it, which I didn’t end up doing anything with because I thought it didn’t really make much sense. Which, I’m not sure I did that great of a job making this make sense, but you know. Whatever.

this is the original drawing i made for it back in early august, very rushed and not a big fan of it.

I liked the black background & grayscale palette, as well as the way the string kind of . Twirls around the text? BUT, I went into this without any planning, mostly just me doodling and then threw the lyrics on for fun. No plot or whatever, very short.

After I made this, I was kind of just keeping this idea in mind for later, but I held back on trying to do it as I just wasn’t really sure where I wanted to go with it. I’m very bad at planning and tend to rush into things a lot, which ends up hindering the quality of a lot of my art. and since this was something I actually liked the idea of, I wanted to give it my all.

There was also the fact that because I liked the idea, I wanted the best outcome. This kind of ends up in a sort of paralysis where I don’t want to work on something because I’m not good enough for it, but I did realize that I will likely never consider myself good enough for it, so why not just go for it?

Anyway ,

I did not end up keeping the black background for the reason that I decided that this time around I wanted it to have a more traditional vibe/look? Like perhaps it was scrawled over some roughed up paper, hence the sketchy style and limited palette.

And as for why I didn’t keep the string looping around the pages, I just thought that would add too much red to the pages, sort of ruining the vibe. So I instead just kept it inside the panels!

these are the original thumbnails/sketches! most of them I kept the same, but I did end up pretty much entirely changing the third page, because I decided there was already too many panels of just their faces with somewhat unsettled expressions .

thoughts on individual pages - don’t expect me to be organized or this to be well thought out, by the way,,

on page 1 ,

I started with a shot of the relationship, mostly to just… set the scene. I am NOT an expert on comics, and went into this with very minimal planning, so this work in general is more of the vibes than it is a storyline, but I did try to vaguely get it to resemble something comprehensible.

the second panel of Etho brushing Joel’s cheek is very much no thoughts for me lol, not very happy with how it looks. I do picture Etho as the more openly affectionate one (though i can see it both ways). BUT, to match with the lyrics, you could say that the first panel paired with “it’s hard to tell which elements of this are real” could be resembling that the boat is something tangible and physical, whereas the second panel paired with “and which are chemically enhanced” is referring to whatever feelings they have. Asking themselves if this is really real, or if it’s just the game.

no notes on the third panel lol. like i say this was not well thought out, the story is somewhat there, but it’s VERY much up to interpretation and I did intend it to be that way. I have ideas about what is happening, but I want to keep it up to the viewer.

on page 2,

“But it’s not easy to tell what I want from what I need” OH BOY !!! manic red joel. blinded by the bloodlust and rage and adrenaline. he needs this. he needs it, doesn’t he?

“I am more scared of myself than I am of anyone else” okay okay okay. I don’t headcanon he has any real remorse for killing anyone. this is a death game, you’re not meant to be a good person, this is built on lies and manipulation and blood and hurt. headcanon they’re all insane people doing bad things (with a forced hand or not). BUT !!! big fan of “i break everything i touch” kind of thing (its kind of a pattern in ships i like OOPS). so much angst. regretful of your violent nature, wishing to be gentler so that you can cradle his face without digging your nails into his skin, unwanting to break the only thing you’ve learnt to love.

but. etho doesn’t care !!! he doesnt care. his hands are just as bloody as yours, don’t you see?

on page 3,

panel one is just a continuation of the last scene which i just talked about blah blah blah

panel 2!! thats a portal. we all know what happened in the portal :)

on page 4.

ending the mini comic thing with the ship burning, while it started with a shot of the ship in its prime. before and after, how it started and how it ended.

all in all, I !! AM !!! INSANE!!! about them. I could ramble for hours probably but this is already long so ending with a couple final thoughts.

this is definitely meant to be set after they’ve gone red, when in that timeframe is up to you, though. in my vision the lyrics are kind of correlating to c!joel’s thoughts/feelings/whatevers, but it can definitely go both ways - or neither way lol. This song is really just like. THEM. To me.

anywho, thank you to anyone who has put the augh’s and ough’s in the tags, they’re very gratifying haha <3

the simplest words

[kiss-me-muchoo]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭 || 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐬 𝐀𝐜𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐮𝐬 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐮𝐬 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐮𝐬

summary_ having an affair with General Acacius overseas while conquering lands turned into a problem after coming back to Rome, when you fell for a gladiator that turned out to be a missing prince.

warnings_ CRINGE, girthy age gap (legal) (I’m 20, sorry) historical inaccuracy, angst, violence, gore, animal death, sexism and misogyny, fluff but angst, a lot of canon divergence bc I said so. NO PROOFREAD, BEWARE!

note_ i can’t remember if Denzel’s character was named Macrino, I can’t remember which year the movie is set in, I can’t remember many things but let me know if I fucked up too much. And listen to fallen fruit from Lorde while reading.

♪ ♫ Pedro playlist | ✰ Index (+ fics here)

𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ 𓆇𓆸⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ 𓆇𓆸⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ 𓆇𓆸

The sea was a free land. Nobody could conquer it because there wasn’t anything valuable floating around. Perhaps at the bottom of the ocean, a treasure may lay, but no man had shown the desire to dive into the deep.

The screams of the innocents are loud enough to make you feel empathy for them. But Acacius had trained you to put a mask of neutrality when leading war.

Loving the most effective soldier of Rome was your little secret. He married the daughter of an old emperor and he fought to get her privileges and prevent her from danger.

Always the insane little girl running around the palace, rambling about plants, the stars, a dream of Rome in flames. It was enough to be secretly sent to a scribe's university in Egypt for some time.

Upon your return, not much had changed, only that your father, once lead of the council, then the wise of Rome had died. Consequently, your evil stepbrothers were crowned emperors. They named you a soldier and made sure you were at every battlefront, hoping for your death.

But your general trained you well, and with months of practice, you ended up tangled up with him on his sheets in Greece.

Adultery was considered a crime in Rome and you’d give the perfect reason to your brothers to burn you like a witch. Or worse, to send you to fight at the arena of the Colosseum.

But the people who accompanied you and Acacius overseas were loyal and couldn’t care less if you had an older man fucking you each night. They only cared about you being a good soldier on the battlefront and being a good princess in Rome.

With a couple of hours left to be home again, you had your wounds checked. Conquering Numidia was one of the last African cities to be marked by the Romans and your brothers desperately wanted to own it. Only a few burns scattered across your leg and your shoulder needed stitches were the price to pay.

The wooden floor creaked and the general turned around alert but as soon as he saw you, he seemed to calm down.

Your arms wrapped around him and he immediately had to lean and kiss you. His lips tasted like devotion, peace, and lust. Acacius always grabbed your hips first. Then he moved to your waist, only to end up caressing your cheeks as his lips kept marking you his.

“What did the doctor say?” asked Acacius as he gasped for air.

“Nothing to worry about…” You nodded at him and he turned his back to you again, looking at his open windows, to the sea.

“What about yours? How is the scar on your nose?”

“It’s fine. Could’ve been worse” You walked towards him, sensing he had bathed like you as well, his hair looked perfectly curly and you couldn’t help but smile.

You could stay looking at the horizon forever, just because he was by your side. The sound of the waves calmed your mind after another day of calamities brought by war.

“For those who chose the sea, greatness waits at the end of the rainbow,” you said smiley. But the general remained stood silent.

“Those are ludicrous tells, the truth is that even war has infected the sea as well.”

“Because we chose to fight, then yes, the sea is also an arena. But if we chose not to, the way will not depict war” his eyes kept looking at you, completely fixated and even threatening, like Acacius was trying to understand how much you were judging him.

“We do this because we don’t have any other choice, princess y/n,” Acacius said, finally turning to look at you.

“We could run away, to the south, the islands of the Tyrrhenian Sea are empty, nobody wants to live there” your voice trembling, nervous and waiting for his response. He stared at nothing, probably thinking. And that made you uneasy.

“I can’t leave Rome, I have to go back to…” he said coldly.

“Your wife….Right”

Silence. Even the sea seized the sound of the waves.

“Haven’t you told her?”

“What’s there to be told? I said this was only a thing of passion and lust” You bit your tongue at his harsh words.

“Was it? Would you say that all those nights you shared your past with me meant nothing, Marcus?”

There it was. His most personal name, that one nobody used. The general got closer to you, paying attention to your face. Princesses did not have scars, but you did. He wanted to say so much, but he couldn’t. You noticed how his fingers were about to trace the pink scar on your chin but he moved away.

“I was drunk most of the nights, doping the pain” Finally your eyes crystallized.

“Do you love Lucilla, General?” His steps stopped then turned around to face you one last time.

His eyes looked doubtful but soon landed on his feet.

“… I do love her” you nodded, holding the tears and bursting out of his room in anger.

“Of course you do”

Your disappointment was so evident that Acacius was able to look at your face reddening and tears falling freely. He could only sigh and go back to pack his things and get ready to arrive in Rome again.

If only you knew…

…

The crowds of Rome couldn’t stop screaming your name. It was “PRINCESS Y/N!” and “ACACIUS!” everywhere.

You were no hero, you just wanted a peaceful life in a free Rome with the man you loved. And you can feel his hand brushing yours while his left salutes the parade of people chanting both of your names. The truth is you have no purpose but to serve your brothers and pretend that is your life.

The twins always hated you. Their mother was a wealthy woman but yours was the emperor’s true love. The twins used to pull your hair and always picked poisonous berries to give you as a meal while being toddlers. It got worse as everyone noticed you were your father’s favorite. And with him gone, you were utterly alone in the world.

Your clumsy steps made you arrive later. There was no crown for you waiting like it had been for Acacius. Geta and Caracalla were talking to him. And when you noticed the sword in the general’s neck, your face went serious.

“Do not forget the privileges we’ve made for your wife” you heard Geta saying.

“Same benefits we’re making for your whores, frater” The twins turned to look at you, quickly releasing Acacius and going straight to you. Their golden armors were a mere matter of display. They could barely wield a sword. They were bad with the bow and arrow and their reflections were poor too. They were good with numbers and shapes, but that wasn’t much in the city they shaped. One full of segregation and violence.

“Dear, soror… you’re back…” you think Geta gets closer to hug you, but his hand has raised and he gives you a sharp slap across the cheek.

“Dazzling and with such a big mouth as always” he added while you looked down, your cold hand against the reddening skin and sending him the worst look you had.

“Leave the princess alone, emperor. We should be focusing on the games ahead. We brought many slaves that some of them could fit as gladiators” Acacius said, looking affectionately at you, with disguise.

Caracalla only laughs in your face and his monkey reaches you for some seconds, but your brother pulls him away quickly. You wonder how far his disease has spread. Before leaving Rome, he was completely against seeing a doctor.

“Acacius is right, Geta. Let’s focus on the games” the twins agreed but sure, they had to humiliate you one last time.

“Alright then. But the next time I see you, dear y/n… I don’t want to see your hair down freely. You look like a whore and not the princess of Rome” he whispered loud enough to make everyone hear. But finally, the twins were gone.

“Are you alright?” The general asked but you rolled your eyes.

“I don’t need your help, Acacius. I’ve dealt with Geta and Caracalla since the day I was born. Which was before we met you” he sighed, understanding you were still mad from your last conversation. He appreciated your free hair, long and healthy despite the fires you went through while in combat.

“I just don’t want to see you hurt. It’s enough they sent you to serve in the war when you should be here, safe from the horrors”

“Go home to your wife, Acacius. Your dinner will be cold…” you spit out with a bitter tone before walking away, disappearing through the walls of the palace.

…

Standing naked, dripping, and waiting for servants to dry you up, you stare at the dress hanging in your room. It had been months since you wore a dress, used to armor and tight braids, and the sensation of the fabric felt odd.

As a kid, you wished to befriend your servants, but they remained professional and apologetically brushed away your questions. Which made you feel even more lonely while they dressed you up; placing gold jewelry and rings with quartz, spraying perfume, and cleaning your teeth. Geta and Caracalla always stole the sweets from you as kids, you thanked them because instead, it was Caracalla who ended up with a decayed tooth and a gold one as a replacement.

“You’re ready, princess,” said one of the servants and you smiled at her as a thank you.

The whole time while you and your brothers awaited to arrive at the Colosseum, you ignored them. You sneaked away as soon as you arrived. Knowing the place like the palm of your hand, you took a secret passage, in hopes to go and tend your horse to delay the entertainment as long as you could.

Gladiator fights were of no interest to you. But the people loved it. Their ignorance made you understand why they hadn’t tried to throw your brothers from the thrones.

But being months away made you forgetful of the architecture of the Colosseum, forgetful enough to end up in the cells of gladiators. Looking perplexed, you gulped nervously. There were indeed many slaves brought.

Being the only woman there made you the center of attention. Even worse when you looked exactly like a princess would do.

“Princess y/n, What are you doing here?” Asked one of the high-rank soldiers, running towards you.

“I wanted to tend my horse. It was brought here by accident” you replied, eyes wandering through the cells, noticing the people inside them were full of new people, probably from Numidia. You wonder if they recognized you.

Your eyes met the ocean-blue ones of a man, he certainly recognized you as he looked at you with anger. You gulped once again, looking away from him. But his gaze had been so strong that you didn’t hear a servant come running from the end of the hallway.

“A TIGER ESCAPED! A TIGER ESCAPED! CLOSE THE DOORS!” he screamed and soon everyone went into panic mode. You didn’t have enough time to process what he said and do anything. You stood there confused for some seconds. The violent roars of the animal could be heard closer. You looked around trying to find a weapon.

“Stay behind me, princess,” said the same soldier but you didn’t trust him so you went to grab a bow and arrow. The prisoners yelled and quickly you understood they were having a private show. They hated you for being Roman, and they thought they would see you dying.

But you wouldn’t give them that satisfaction as much as you sympathized with them.

The tiger appeared, big and imposing. The animal was angry, visibly distressed, and ready to attack.

You had killed men, but an animal was different. There was no exact description of what to do. Just pure instinct. So you try to calm yourself before the tiger spots you and the soldier, who are the only ones that remain vulnerable. The guards closed the entrances as protocol, unbeknownst that you were there. And it had been too late to use the secret passage.

You felt the same man’s eyes on you and indeed, he looked carefully at you, probably wondering what would be your next move.

“PRINCESS, STAY AWAY!” The soldier screamed when the tiger came running towards you two.

The tiger jumped and threw the soldier, roaring as it tried to kill him. So you ran away in hopes of aiming at the eye of the animal to gain time. Your hands shaking and you could feel your legs get tangled up in the fabric of your dress. But your nervousness isn’t visible as your hands work on getting ready for the arrow. You don’t have time to calculate, the tiger has already bitten the soldier’s fingers.

You hit it very near the eye and the animal roared even louder, in pain. That’s when you spotted the sword the soldier had left behind, where you threw yourself to, as the tiger had tried to attack you again. The man with blue eyes pushed the sword towards you from inside the cell and you didn’t even look to thank him, you only grabbed the weapon and rolled to the right before the animal could scratch your face and kill you.

You heard the soldier cry out in pain but you couldn’t help him. Thinking you could end the beast chasing you, you failed, sinking the sword in the ribs of the animal. You felt a deep scratch in your arm and you cried out. Anger quickly builds up as you know you had to get out of there before everyone at the coliseum found out. The tiger roared one last time and before it could throw you to the sandy ground you grabbed another arrow and directly pierced the eye of the animal. Blood starts pouring and before the tiger can try to bite and break your neck, your hands end up in its mouth.

The fangs were dangerously digging into your hands and more blood started coming. Scarlet droplets fell all over your face and you didn’t care. You screamed in pain and pulled all the strength in your body to put the pressure on your arms and hands. The men inside the cells cheered and made you even more angered. Until you had torn open the tiger’s mouth, breaking its jaw and killing the animal.

Breathe….

Pushing the dead animal aside, you sighed, resting on the dirty floor for a couple of seconds before taking a long breath and standing up.

Every man inside each cell looked at you quietly. What’s there to say?

Five guards open the main entrance and look confused at the mess, then at you tending the heavily injured soldier.

“Bring a doctor,” you tell them and they nod without asking more questions. Only one comes to your side.

“The games are about to begin, princess. I must escort you back to where you should be” Trying to catch your breath, you nodded.

“Do not say a word about this mess” The guard only bowed his head in agreement.

The least you could do was to put some bandages around the bloody hand of the soldier. Then you cleaned yourself and noticed you were a mess.

Giving that soon-to-be gladiator one last look, you tried to thank him with your eyes for what he had done to help you. He understood, giving you a cold nod.

And as you walked towards the royal platea, you wondered if that was the slave your brothers mentioned. A poet…

“Oh heavens! What happened to you?” Asked Lucilla as soon as you tried to take a seat beside Geta. Then everyone turned to look at you in horror. You noticed Acacius looked worried and he couldn’t keep his eyes away from the blood in your dress and bandaged arm.

“An accident” you replied politely at the woman, not in the mood to face the wife of your ex-lover.

“You look horrible,” said Caracalla.

“It won’t; happen again, frater” you tiredly answered, sinking onto the chair, ignoring Acacius’ eyes on you.

Soon you are surprised to see the gladiator who helped you in the arena. You don’t face him when he ends up winning and he looks at you. But you do notice Lucilla’s behavior and quickly you have connected the dots.

What an odd coincidence…

…

This time, you checked the animals first, then you made sure nobody had seen you entering the cells, but you went where the mysterious gladiator of blue eyes rested.

“Barbarian, monkey eater, slave, gladiator…. Prince of Rome, How may I call you? Hanno or Lucius?” Soon you had him inches away from your face. At that moment, you had time to appreciate his features. He was handsome and looked pretty much like he belonged to Roman royalty. But his gaze was fueled by anger and pain.

“What do you want?”

“I know Lucilla came before me. She had been waiting for you ever since I can remember” he looked at you with cold eyes and unbothered. But you knew he was curious about you too.

“What do you care? You’re the princess, you support all of this” his anger was palpable, it was part of his way of fighting you had noticed.

“Who did you lose?” You asked.

“My wife” he replied after a little silence, you nodded apologetically. He didn’t believe you.

“My father was a friend of your grandfather, part of the council. Now I realize that when he was elected emperor, he started hunting you down. I’m sorry”

“You don’t. You joined their cause and you fight proudly on the battlefront. I saw you…” you chuckle sarcastically.

“The twins you met the other day are my half-brothers. And they have tried to kill me since I was born. They sent me to war as punishment, but Acacius trained me well enough to survive each battle”

“So what? Should I pity you?”

“No, please don’t. But I don’t support any of this. I want to be a free woman and be with the man I love but I don’t think I’ll live enough to make it happen” he seemed interested in your words but pretended he wasn’t. Either way, you kept talking.

“You can’t kill Acacius. He’s leading a rebellion against my brothers” he stood quiet, trying to taste the lies in your words. But you seemed very truthful.

“Interesting that you want his head when all I’ve wanted is his heart” Through the cell his eyes sparkled and looked tentatively at you, for some seconds you got too attached to them.

“What about Macrino?” The old man had been trying to gain your brother’s trust and you thought that was suspicious.

“Don’t trust him. Stop sharing any detail that could tell him what you want or fear”

“I don’t trust you either”

“You shouldn’t,” you said, a little smile unconsciously appearing on your face. And to your surprise, Lucius smiled too. There was something about you that he found lovely. You seemed honest, but he couldn’t trust you yet. So he cursed once you had left, you had him looking forward to meet you again.

…

Across the room runs a large table filled with food. A variety of fruits, bread, lamb, duck, pork, and lots of wine. Your hands float around the punch though, reminding you of the first time you tried Egyptian beer. You ended up drunk with Marcus Acacius, laughing on the sand and soon both ended up naked. You frown, trying to forget that messy night.

“You’ve been oddly quiet these past days,” said Lucilla appearing by your side, grabbing more fruits and placing them on her plate.

“I’ve been busy”

“Have you met Macrino?” She said pointing in disguise at the man who laughs with some senators and your brothers.

“He’s been around for some time. But I don’t like him” you confessed.

“I’ve also met his poet gladiator” you added, opting to not look at her eyes because she responded very shocked.

“What?”

“He wants to kill Acacius for the death of his late wife, avenge his homeland, etcétera etcétera. I told him not to because we plan to free the city. You can’t proceed with the nonsense of taking him out of the Colosseum. Your son can’t be the alibi to start a revolution, Lucilla” you said whispering. She gasped in shock, wondering how you knew already. All while you carefully watched if any of your brothers or that nosy man were looking. Not even Acacius was looking.

You sigh, shrugging and looking at the woman.

“As soon as he came out wielding that sword in the arena, your face said everything. Then just by hearing his mysterious backstory. It was obvious, Lucilla” She didn’t say anything else, so you continued.

“I shall repeat myself once again. You won’t encourage Acacius to get your boy out of the Colosseum.”

“Why not?” you chuckled at the woman.

She was very pretty, sweet and caring. No wonder why the general loved her.

“You and your husband were lucky that I found out one of your maids heard everything and was about to spill it”

“What did you do, y/n?” She asked tired, thinking destiny was so meticulous and how you had ended up in such a position to hear and stop the maid before chaos unleashed.

“Let’s say I granted her eternal silence,” you said, Lucilla sighed, understanding. And before she could thank you, you spoke again.

“Wait till Lucius is in the arena to save him. And stop looping Acacius into this madness, you’ll make him get killed” She understood everything by the way your eyes looked at her. It shocked her, but she remained calm as you left to sit at the table. Only a woman in love spoke with a mix of venom and sweetness like that.

Taking a seat beside the General, he turned to look at you.

“What were you talking about there with Lucilla?” He asked in a very low but deep tone.

“Just gossiping about Senator Brutus and his new wife…” he knew you were lying but tried to act normal.

“Princess y/n… How true are those rumors about you breaking the jaw of a tiger?” asked a scribe, making you look away from Acacius, Lucilla returned to the table and your brother was already laughing at you for something you couldn’t hear.

“Well… it��s true, domine.” The table burst into laughter. Only the general and his wife remained silent.

“You did what?” Asked Acacius looking at you in horror.

“A princess shouldn’t be in combat” added Macrino, making you set your eyes on him.

“Oh I am a princess but I’m also a soldier, domine. And I have to thank my brothers because they made me a woman capable of wielding more than one weapon by sending me to war” The twins stopped laughing. Geta sipped from his wine and returned to you.

“That’s true. While you were there getting battle scars, Caracalla and I focused on diplomacy, ensuring we gained more land” You want to laugh at his face. The council did that, not the twins.

“Did you ensure the poor were stable by cutting from the rich? Did you do the math to financially cover each branch Rome rules, Geta? Or did you and Caracalla just point at lands on a map to get like prizes?”

“y/n…” Acacius whispered your name, trying to make you stop. The tension has risen very quickly.

“You have one task, soror. To give us India. A woman shouldn’t even be speaking on the table” Caracalla said when you were about to stand up and burst out. Marcus grabbed your hand under the table.

And immediately calmed you down.

“I’m only saying you should wisely rule this great empire. Do not let it fall…”

Soon the chatting turned into drinking after the awkward moment. When most of the men were getting drunk you returned to the table, cautiously grabbing food again. When you looked up, you encountered the image of Acacius kissing Lucilla. And it made your blood boil.

In a thick piece of fabric, you placed bread, some fruits, cheeses, and a small piece of lamb.

“What are you doing?” you nearly screamed when you noticed Acacius standing by your side.

“I’m grabbing food”

“Isn’t it a little late to eat again?” He wasn’t judging you, he never would, but he was very curious.

You would start up a little fire after seeing the painful image of him kissing his wife.

“It’s not for me…” before he could ask you you sprinted away. His blood boiled too, his hand firmly grabbed your wrist to stop you.

“What are you playing?” He asked.

“Playing? I’m definitely not”

“Is this some kind of punishment for what I told you days ago?” You sighed.

“I didn’t mean to say it was nothing. But… you have to wait, y/n” Acacius whispered and you chuckled.

“I’ve waited long enough to realize you will always be trapped in a marriage with two different kinds of love. And Lucilla will never love you like you want because her heart will always beat for that gladiator whose name was carved from the Colosseum”

You had raised your voice, Lucilla was looking at you two, and everyone else was drunk. So you violently flinched away from the man, who looked at you with a mix of pain and rage.

You leave and he immediately sends a guard to follow you in disguise.

“We must talk,” Lucilla said to Acacius, taking his hand.

He nodded.

…

What did that man have that made you feel safe? He didn’t protest when you walked inside his cell. He didn’t demand you to go away. He quietly lets you inside, talk, and explain yourself.

Two visits filled with food from your dinners were enough to let him know you had no intention of killing him. Your curiosity must’ve been too big, his eyes too attractive, and an odd vibration that warmed your chest.

To be honest, you had no idea why you came back to him. You just felt something. And you hated to admit it.

“If the emperors have made your life so difficult, Why didn’t you leave?” Lucius asked. He had eaten everything you gave him and was sitting beside you on the dirty floor.

“Every time I tried to escape, I couldn’t make it far enough. So I stayed and accepted my fate. To serve them will keep me alive ” he nodded, finally understanding why you hadn’t revealed yourself against the evil emperors.

“You didn’t come down here just to talk”

“I didn’t. I- I guess I just want to believe you’ll do something greater than I have always tried. Everyone talks about your rage but I think you quite act like a prospect hero… with honor” you revealed and wanted to cut your thong like you did with that old maid. You hated oversharing. But instead, Lucius chuckled and you frowned confused, expecting him to talk.

“You reminded me of my wife…”

“How so?”

“She said similar things to you” Most unexpectedly, you blushed. Thankfully the darkness of the cell made it unnoticeable.

“I’m trying to find a way to get you out of here before your mother does something rushed”

“I was very harsh with her”

“How couldn’t you? I would have behaved the same way. But she loves you and she doesn’t want to let you go just when she found you” Lucius smiled once again, making you remain still, unsure of what to do next. Soon you realized the sun was very close to coming up again.

How many hours had you spent talking with the rightful Prince of Rome?

“I must go, Geta and Caracalla will know I spent the night away,” you said standing up, trying to clean the mess your dress had become.

“Will I see you again before that revolution happens?” You smiled, walking back near him.

He was tall, you had to completely raise your head to face him.

“The final day of the games is closer. I’ll bring you more food and I’ll try to see what will the next encounters look like”

“Thank you. I judged you too fast…” he said and you chuckled.

“You still have time to change your mind”

You didn’t notice when he closed the distance. Just when his face had been inches away from yours, you gasped.

But neither of you two protested, your lips touched his at the same time.

Tasting the wine you brought him made you feel intoxicated. No intrusive thoughts appeared while you kissed him.

You could only taste his passion, his need to take control. But all his hidden softness too. One of his hand caressed with softness your cheek and the other grasped your neck.

“Stay safe, Lucius,” you said as you moved away from him.

…

The whole day was lost because you spent it sleeping. Only when you woke up for dinner, did you learn you had missed the games of the day. But Lucius was alive at least. You dreamt of his kiss but when you woke up you had an odd sensation in your stomach. Confusion filled you and then… ache.

As you brushed your hair, you got lost looking at a red candle. It had been a present from your father some years ago. A red candle to be lit whenever you felt like you needed to feel love, he had said.

The wise emperor had wished to see his daughter with her true love. Just like had always wanted but couldn’t.

There was a broad shadow that you spotted through the mirror. It made you pull out a silver knife and point a the figure.

Soon the cape was removed and you sighed but also gasped shocked to see Acacius standing in the middle of your room.

“What are you doing here?” You asked worriedly, standing up and hurrying to close your windows.

“You had spent all these past nights in the Colosseum,” he said, sounding a little angered.

“Now you’re spying on me, Acacius?” He sighed exasperated.

“What are you doing with that gladiator?”

“What do you care?” You asked with defiance.

“He’s going to get you in trouble, princess y/n” Your eyes pierced his, but you decided to move away, leaning against the towers of your bed.

“He deserves more. And not only him, but every slave we brought and all those we left in ruins” you admitted, looking at the fire of the candle.

“They do, but it’s not our duty, at least not yet. We need to focus on the plan we have…” you wanted to roll your eyes and yell at him, his wife could’ve ruined everything and he was only paying attention to you.

Only paying attention to you?

“Stop going to see that man”

“His name is Hanno and I’ll visit whenever I desire” you spit out with bitterness and you knew he was angry. Acacius clenched his jaw and sighed once again. Under his cape rested his armor, his hair messy, and his scars fading.

“Why? Because he makes you feel things?”

You remained quiet. As simple as it was, his question took you by surprise.

“I-… I don’t know. I had no reason to go back to him, but I did it anyway”

“Oh heavens, y/n. Don’t you see that I’ve always told you to wait? Because I’m counting every golden coin I have to give you that house on the island you always point at. To leave Rome with you…”

It took you on a curve. You didn’t know what to say, only the tears wanted to be present.

His hands found your hips and his lips seek yours. Sometimes, while being overseas, you two would argue. And the only cure was to be silent and kiss after a day of ignoring each other.

This time feels different. You feel so confused.

His forehead softly bumped yours and you two stayed like that for some time.

“If you had those ideas to fulfill with me. Why do you remain married, Marcus?” He smiled.

“That’s different, satis. I was set to marry when you were very young. I just can’t undo it.”

“Why do I feel like you’re only doing this because you feel pressured?”

“It’s not like that”

“Either way you wouldn’t tell me that you love me. So it’s in vane…”

“BUT I DO LOVE YOU!”

You frowned, biting the inside of your cheek. For a moment you thought you could only hear how your heartbeats slowly thumped. What you wanted to hear for years had been delivered. It felt good, even right to hear it. And when you were about to believe it, something clicked.

“No, Marcus. You just realized you hate the idea of me falling in love with someone else. Even worse when it’s the son of your wife”

Without the strength to say anything else, you moved away. Your feet quickly dragged you out of your room, and then out of the palace.

You walked through the streets of Rome, seeing all the hunger, poverty, the lack of love from the government.

By midnight you arrived at the shore. The warm sand cured your bolting mind.

There was an imminent battle coming up. You had a place in the rebellion. And yet you had to be only thinking in two men. Who had made a mess of you in a matter of days.

You had nothing with any of them. It was just the causality of what they made you feel.

Lucius made you feel like the woman you would’ve been if you had escaped Rome years ago.

Acacius made you feel adored like the woman you turned into wasn’t as bad as you thought. He believed in you.

But it wasn’t enough. None of them were enough. Your mind was spiraling and you realized you were sobbing in the middle of the dark. You can hear and faintly distinguish the sea. You had cracked, like the fallen fruit every poet and philosopher always mentioned.

And even when you knew you had to only focus on the war, you still didn’t know what to do. You barely knew the men that had you losing it.

_________________________

Taglist: @stargirl-mayaa @willowpains @nicolebarnes

I don’t love the ending but I genuinely don’t know who should reader end up with. PLEASE SEND IDEAS!!

[helen-with-an-a]

Hii! I was thinking maybe like a alexia!player reader who is also good at singing😂 and have it inspired by ‘perfect to me’ Bradley Marshall- and it’s like the lead up to their wedding? And she surprises alexia with this song she sings during their first dance? And you could maybe showing them asking for bridesmaid etc?🫶🏼

Hiiii - so this request is so stinking cute but I've changed it slightly to make it a little more private moment between them. I kinda did it as snapshots of just after the proposal, the day before the wedding and then just after the wedding (so the wedding isn't included if that makes sense)

You Are The Music In Me

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Description: You gift Alexia something very special for your wedding

Word Count: 4k

ugh she's so pretty wtf

Alexia was fairly sure you could sing. She’d picked up on it in the most casual, unassuming moments – like when she noticed you humming along under your breath to the music you played while making dinner. Your voice would weave in and out of the melody, blending effortlessly with the rhythm of your cooking. It was a subtle, soothing accompaniment that made the kitchen feel more like a concert hall.

Then there were the times when she’d catch those docile tones drifting through the bedroom as you sang softly while you were in the shower. Even with the sound of the water cascading down, your voice managed to pierce through, delicate yet clear. It was as if the steam and tiles amplified your singing in an intimate, private performance.

And let’s not forget the car rides. She’d often hear you softly harmonise with the radio while you drove, your fingers tapping the steering wheel in perfect time with the beat. Your voice would seamlessly blend with the music, an effortless harmony that spoke of a deep, natural musicality.

Despite these subtle but telling glimpses into your talent, every time Alexia tried to coax you into singing out loud – into letting your voice be heard beyond those private moments – you would shy away. You’d offer a sheepish smile and dismiss her encouragement with a casual wave of your hand, as if to brush off the compliment and the request. It was clear that your singing was a cherished secret, something you shared only with yourself and the music, never quite ready to fully unveil it to the world.

It was the one thing Alexia had never managed to persuade you to do, no matter how gently she tried or how earnestly she asked. Your singing remained an elusive treasure to her.

-----

“Yes,” The single word was filled with all the love and commitment you had been feeling. It was a quiet but profound. “Yes, yes, Alexia. Yes, I will marry you. Oh my god.” As the words left your lips, you couldn’t help but laugh, the sound mingling with the tears that began to well up in your eyes.

Alexia’s face lit up with an ecstatic smile that seemed to brighten the entire room. Her eyes glistened with tears of joy, mirroring your own emotions. The ring she had so thoughtfully chosen was nothing short of breathtaking.

As Alexia gently slid the ring onto your finger, you were filled with a sense of disbelief and elation. The reality of what was happening sank in – you were about to marry the love of your life, the person who had become your everything. You pulled Alexia up to standing, her hazel eyes shimmering with unshed tears. She leaned down, pouring her emotions into a passionate kiss.

The world could have ended for all you knew. In that perfect, suspended moment, nothing outside of this bubble of joy seemed to matter. The stars could have fallen from the sky, the ground could have crumbled beneath your feet, and the cosmos itself could have unravelled, and it wouldn’t have made a difference. All that was important, all that filled your heart and mind, was Alexia. The person who meant more to you than anything or anyone else. She was perfect, with a kindness that touched everyone she met and a sweetness that made even the simplest moments feel extraordinary. She was your Ale – your love, your confidante, your everything.

As you held her close, her breath warm and soft against your lips, she whispered, “Voy a ser tu esposa.” Her voice was filled with wonder and affection, the words barely more than a breath.

You couldn’t help but giggle, your joy spilling over into laughter as you responded, “That’s generally how this works, Ale.” Your voice was light and teasing, infused with the happiness that bubbled up from the very core of your being.

Alexia’s eyes sparkled with a mix of amusement and reverence. “Lo sé, mi niña descarada,” she said, rolling her eyes with a dramatic flair that made you both laugh. “But I get to be your wife,” she continued, her voice filled with awe and deep emotion. The words carried a profound sense of joy and disbelief, as if she was marvelling at the dream she had just realised.

“And I get to be yours. Mrs Putellas. Forever and ever,” you exclaimed gleefully, the words spilling out with an almost childlike delight. Your heart swelled with the excitement of your new identity.

With a burst of energy and joy, Alexia swept you up into her arms, lifting you off the ground and spinning you around in a joyful, impromptu dance. The movement was exhilarating and exhilarating, a physical manifestation of the happiness and excitement you both felt. As she twirled you around, the world seemed to blur into a whirlwind of laughter, love, and unrestrained bliss. The moment was electric, filled with the pure, unfiltered joy of two people deeply in love, celebrating the beginning of a lifetime together.

“If only we had some music … we could practice our first dance,” Alexia mused, her voice filled with a dreamy, whimsical tone. Her eyes lit up with excitement as she envisioned the romantic moment, the thought of dancing together under the soft, flickering light of the candles adding an extra layer of enchantment to the already magical evening. She spun around slightly, her gestures playful and full of anticipation.

You chuckled softly, shaking your head in mock disbelief. “I’m not singing, Ale,” you replied, a hint of playful defiance in your voice. The idea of serenading her, especially in this intimate, perfect moment, seemed both amusing and slightly daunting.

Alexia’s eyes widened in exaggerated shock, and she gasped dramatically. “Even after I just proposed to you?” she asked, her voice laced with faux indignation. Her reaction was a perfect blend of surprise and playful reproach. The sparkle in her eyes and the mischievous smile tugging at her lips made it clear that she was teasing, enjoying the playful exchange.

You laughed, your heart swelling with affection at her charming display. “Is that why you did it? Just to hear me sing?” you teased, raising an eyebrow in mock suspicion. Alexia’s face softened into a genuine smile as she took your hand in hers, the laughter in her eyes mingling with the deep love and joy she felt. The look she gave you was one of adoration, filled with all the warmth and sincerity that came with her deep feelings for you.

“Eh, there were some other reasons as well,” she teased, her tone light

“Oh really, like what?” you asked, leaning in closer, eager to hear more. The curiosity in your voice was genuine, as if you were hanging on every word she said, fully invested in whatever she was about to say.

Alexia’s smile grew even softer, and she looked at you with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. “Like the fact that I am desperately, hopelessly, totally in love with you.”

-----

You had decided to go the traditional route of not seeing each other before the wedding. It wasn’t necessarily your first choice, but Alexia had asked for it and you would move mountains for that woman if she asked you to.

When Alexia had expressed her wish to follow this tradition, her eyes shining with a blend of excitement and sentimental longing, you couldn't help but feel a deep sense of devotion. Although the idea of spending those final hours apart was not what you would have chosen for yourself, her happiness and the fulfilment of her wishes were far more important to you. You knew that this was a special request for her, something that would make her feel even more cherished and treasured on your wedding day.

You had come to a compromise of enduring 24 hours apart, a span of time that felt both unbearably long and exhilaratingly brief. Those 24 hours seemed to stretch endlessly, filled with a palpable sense of anticipation and yearning. Every minute apart was marked by a mix of excitement and a longing to be reunited. The separation, though challenging, was a testament to your commitment and dedication to making this moment as special as possible for Alexia.

The hours seemed to crawl by, each one underscoring the significance of what was to come. The anticipation of seeing Alexia in her wedding dress, the thought of her walking down the aisle towards you, and the sheer joy of finally being together again made every second of waiting worthwhile. Each tick of the clock was a reminder of the love and devotion that bound you together, making the eventual reunion even more poignant and memorable.

You had decided to leave her a little gift, a gesture that was both sentimental and deeply personal. After much thought and searching, you managed to find an ancient old Walkman – a vintage piece that seemed almost nostalgic in its own right. It wasn’t easy to track down, and the search had taken you quite some time, but the effort was well worth it for the joy it would bring.

The Walkman was a relic from a bygone era, a classic cassette player that symbolised a touch of nostalgia and a personal connection to simpler times. You knew that Alexia would appreciate its charm, especially given her love for vintage items and the meaningful gestures that spoke to her heart. Along with the Walkman, you had prepared a CD loaded with carefully selected songs. Each track was chosen with love and intention, representing a soundtrack to your shared moments, memories, and dreams.

You carefully placed the Walkman and the CD in a beautifully wrapped box, leaving a note for her, explaining what she needed to do.

Bon vespre, amor meu, Less than 24 hours and you will be my wife. Listen to this alone – it will take 20 minutes to listen to the whole thing. Sleep well, my love Te amo con todo mi corazón Your soon to be wife, x Ps. Listen to it when you aren’t wearing any makeup

Alexia had never regretted anything more in her life. It wasn’t the fact that she was marrying you; in fact, she saw that as the greatest achievement of her life, a dream come true that filled her with boundless joy and anticipation. No, what she deeply regretted was having asked to spend the last few hours before your marriage apart. The separation, meant to heighten the emotional impact of your reunion, instead left her feeling a profound sense of longing and melancholy. She missed your presence more than she could have anticipated, and the anticipation of being together again only intensified her regret.

The box was elegantly adorned with a ribbon, and even from across the room, Alexia could spot your handwriting on the attached tag. The familiar, personal script instantly brought a flutter of excitement to her heart.

Unable to contain her emotions, Alexia felt a wave of embarrassment at the speed with which she moved towards the desk. Her steps quickened, almost as if the box was a beacon guiding her through the haze of her separation. The anticipation of what lay inside the gift was palpable, and she couldn’t help but feel a rush of relief and joy at the thought of connecting with you through this special token.

When she finally peered inside, her eyes widened in recognition and delight. Sitting in front of her was a black Walkman, an object reminiscent of the one she had used as a child to listen to her favorite music. The sight of it instantly evoked a wave of nostalgia, transporting her back to simpler times when life was filled with the comforting sound of music through her Walkman’s headphones. The vintage device, so carefully chosen and wrapped, was so obviously from you, even without the note.

She carefully fished out the headphones that you had thoughtfully included with the Walkman and felt a fresh wave of excitement wash over her. The headphones, compact and classic, were a perfect match for the vintage device. They were delicate, with soft cushioning around the earpads that promised a comfortable fit, and their design mirrored the nostalgic charm of the Walkman itself.

With a mixture of curiosity and eagerness, Alexia moved to the bed, where she could sit comfortably and fully immerse herself in the experience. The bed was adorned with plush pillows and a cozy blanket, creating a serene and intimate space where she could enjoy this special moment. As she settled onto the soft surface, her fingers gently caressed the Walkman and its accompanying headphones, appreciating the careful attention to detail that had gone into choosing and preparing this gift.

She placed the headphones over her ears, adjusting them to fit snugly, and then turned her attention back to the Walkman. With a sense of anticipation, she inserted the CD into the device, the familiar click of the mechanism echoing in the quiet room. The action was filled with a sense of ritual and connection, as if every step of the process was a way of drawing closer to you, despite the physical distance.

As she pressed play, Alexia was momentarily startled by the unexpected sound of someone clearing their throat. The noise, though gentle, cut through the quiet room and brought her attention sharply back to the Walkman.

The voice that followed made her heart skip a beat. “Hola, mi casi esposa,” you greeted warmly. Even after all the years spent living in Barcelona, your Spanish still carried that charming, endearing lilt that never failed to make her smile. “It’s me, your almost wife. In case you couldn’t tell,” you added with a soft, playful giggle that was instantly recognisable and filled with affection.

The sound of your voice, so delicate and infused with happiness, immediately lifted Alexia’s spirits. The sincerity and warmth in your tone were like a soothing balm, easing the pangs of separation she had been feeling. Your voice was a comforting reminder of your love and the special connection you shared, making the separation feel a little less daunting.

She listened intently as you continued, your words carrying a mixture of playfulness and guilt. “So, I know we said no wedding presents, but I couldn’t not.” The confession was tinged with a touch of sheepishness, and Alexia could easily picture your expression – a sly smile accompanied by a slight blush as you admitted to breaking the agreement you had both made. The image of you, trying to hide your excitement and affection while going against the agreed-upon rules, brought a soft, knowing smile to her face. It didn’t matter that you had gone against your promise, you would get back from your evening meal to find a similarly wrapped present waiting for you, Alexia’s own handwriting on a note just for you to read.

“Anyways,” your voice continued softly, “there are a few songs on here that make me think of you and our life together so far. Each one holds a special memory or a moment we’ve shared, a soundtrack to our journey together. I hope you enjoy them as much as I’ve enjoyed putting this together for you. But just know, above all, that I love you to the ends of the earth and I cannot wait to marry you.”

As your voice carried the sweet promise and deep affection, Alexia felt a lump form in her throat. “Sweet dreams, my beautiful girl. T'estimo molt,” you added, the endearing words resonating with warmth and sincerity. The intimacy of the message, coupled with the sound of your voice, made her heart swell with emotion.

Alexia struggled to blink back the tears that had suddenly welled up in her eyes, their warmth streaming down her cheeks. The first song began to play, its melody a tender echo of your love and the moments you had shared. Each note seemed to intertwine with the feelings of longing and joy that she had been experiencing, amplifying the emotional impact of your heartfelt message. The music, now a bridge between your hearts, made the separation feel less daunting and the anticipation of your union even more poignant. The combination of your loving words and the carefully chosen songs created a beautiful moment of connection, making her feel profoundly loved and cherished as she prepared to drift off to sleep with the comforting thought of your upcoming marriage.

As the final song faded, your voice appeared again.

“One final song, my love. And then it’s time for bed, I need you well rested for tomorrow,” you giggled sweetly. “You are absolutely perfect for me, Alexia Putellas Segura. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you. I would give my lungs if you needed to breathe, or the light if you can’t seem to find it. I should probably save this for my vows, but I promise to make you laugh every day until we’re old and have grey hair and need a stairlift.”

You cleared your throat again, the sound small but deliberate. As the initial notes of a piano began to play softly, Alexia held her breath in eager anticipation. Then, your voice emerged, breaking through the gentle accompaniment with a tender, melodious clarity.

From the very first note, she was captivated. Your voice was nothing short of enchanting, possessing a pure, ethereal quality that seemed to lift the air around her. It was as though a choir of angels had descended to serenade her, each note resonating with a sublime harmony that touched her soul deeply. The emotion in your singing was palpable, each phrase imbued with love and tenderness that transcended the physical distance between you.

Listening to you sing for the first time was an overwhelming experience for Alexia. The sound of your voice, rich and warm, wrapped around her like a comforting embrace, soothing the ache of separation with its intimate and heartfelt expression. It was as if every word you sang was meant just for her, a musical love letter that conveyed the depth of your feelings and the profound connection you shared.

The piano’s melody danced beneath your voice, creating a perfect backdrop that enhanced the beauty of your singing. Each note seemed to echo the emotions you had shared in your message, amplifying the feelings of joy, longing, and affection. Alexia found herself completely absorbed in the moment, the combination of your voice and the music creating a magical, almost surreal experience.

As the song progressed, Alexia’s heart swelled with a mix of awe and affection. The tears that had been brimming in her eyes now flowed freely, a testament to the emotional impact of your performance. The beauty of your voice and the personal nature of the song made her feel incredibly close to you, despite the physical distance. It was a profound reminder of the love that awaited her and the shared journey you were about to embark on together.

-----

“Are you happy, amor?” Alexia asked, her voice tinged with a mixture of nervousness and vulnerability. She stood above you, her elegant dress rustling softly as she fidgeted with the fabric, her fingers betraying the anxiety she was feeling despite her radiant smile.

You cracked an eye open, intending to tease her, but the earnest concern in her eyes made you pause. “Alexia Putellas, you did not just ask me if I am happy on my wedding day?” The question was playful, but beneath the teasing tone, you could sense a deeper emotional undercurrent.

Alexia’s eyes widened, and she bit her lip, clearly anxious. “So … you have no remordimientos? No, what’s the phrase … um … c-cold…” She hesitated, searching for the right words.

“Cold feet?” you asked, a small laugh escaping you despite the sincerity of the moment.

“Sí, no cold feet?” She looked down at you nervously, her teeth sinking into her lip as she scanned your face

“Ale, where is this coming from?”

She took a deep breath, her gaze never leaving yours. “I don’t want you to regret marrying me. I do not think I could take it if you did.” The confession was delivered with such raw honesty that it tugged at your heartstrings.

You reached out, gently taking her hands in yours, feeling the slight tremor in her fingers. “Ale, you are the absolute love of my life. I stood up in front of all our friends and family and promised you that I will love you until my dying breath, and probably long after that too.”

Your voice was steady and filled with unwavering conviction. “There’s no question, no doubt in my mind. This day, the promise I made, this life we’re starting together is everything I’ve ever wanted. There’s no room for regrets, only endless love and joy.”

Seeing the relief flood over Alexia’s face, you pulled her into a tender embrace. The warmth and sincerity of your words seemed to melt away the last traces of her apprehension, replacing it with a profound sense of reassurance.

“As you held her close, Alexia's shoulders relaxed, and she nuzzled into the comfort of your embrace. “I’m sorry, amor,” she murmured, her voice barely more than a whisper. “I just … I had a dream last night. It was about something Mapí said years ago, something about how some people don’t realise they didn’t want to get married until they are actually in the midst of it. And, and, and I don’t even know why it popped into my head last night, but it did, and I just needed to make sure that you don’t regret marrying me.” Her words tumbled out in a rush, her accent thicker than usual

Your heart ached at the sight of her distress, understanding how deeply this fear had affected her. You cupped her face gently, lifting her chin to meet your gaze. “Ale, I could never, ever regret marrying you. You are my best friend, the love of my life, my person.” The certainty in your voice was unwavering, each word imbued with the depth of your commitment and affection. “There’s nothing that could ever change how I feel about you. I chose you, now and forever, and nothing will ever make me question that decision.”

Alexia nodded, her blonde curls bouncing softly with each movement, creating a delicate halo of warmth around her face. Her eyes, filled with affection and vulnerability, met yours. “Te amo mi esposa,” she murmured, her voice carrying a depth of emotion that made your heart swell with love.

You smiled warmly, feeling a wave of tenderness wash over you. “And I love you, my beautiful, if not a little silly sometimes, wife.” The playful comment brought a soft roll of her eyes, a gesture that only made you love her more. Her playful exasperation was part of what made your relationship so special – each quirk and each moment of shared humor was a testament to the deep bond you both cherished.

With a gentle sigh, she looked at you with a mix of hope and anticipation. “Will you sing for me?” she asked quietly, her voice barely more than a whisper. The request was simple but filled with the intimacy and closeness of your shared moments. It was a tender plea for comfort and connection, and it touched you deeply.

You nodded with a reassuring smile, understanding the comforting power of a familiar song. “Let’s get into bed, baby,” you said softly, guiding her gently toward the bed. “I’ll sing you a lullaby, yeh?”

[wingedshadowfan]

⚠️arcane s2 spoilers⚠️

i just saw someone say "vi put on a uniform for caitlyn but caitlyn never took hers off", even going as far as saying that caitvi shouldn't have ended up together bcuz they have the dynamic of "oppressor and oppressed". tell me you've never paid attention to a single thing caitlyn's done or said in either season without telling me😭😭 (this is my nth post abt this bcuz it pisses me off when ppl mischaracterize her so when you see underlined text, it's linked to a more detailed post)

are we forgetting when she traded her weapon, her gun, her only protection away for a shimmer/medication/potion thing w/ that fucked up undercity dude with the glasses (the one who became the first of the glorious evolution) for vi and hugged him as thanks?

when she saw ekko's commune, his tree, and validated ekko's feelings about piltover and enforcers but also told him the cycle of violence needs to be broken because the undercity needs healing - something ekko could understand even in his anger and hurt.

when she confronted her own parents abt how the government doesn't care about zaun and the situation there, and then took it straight to the council. when jayce, her literal childhood best friend and basically a brother to her, now a councilor, ASKED HER IF SHE KNOWS WHO MADE ONE OF JINX'S BOMBS AND SHE WENT "no, well, uh-" because vi held her hand. she asked him, in front of everyone, "what happened to you" when he suggested using hextech to invade zaun.

even when vi got sick of trying to change things through the council, caitlyn kept telling her there must be another way and they just needed to make a new plan. oil and water, vi said, and that she was stupid to think it would work, but caitlyn's response was, what about us? what about the actual people, not their value as representatives of a group, a stereotype, one of many indistinguishable units? we aren't oil and water.

ppl say she used to view zaunites as just "creeps, crooks and villains" and after seeing more from them through vi, she changed it to "innocent helpless victims", which obv is dehumanizing since you don't recognize a person's capability for both good and evil and only see them as a stereotype. but she's always recognized both kinds of people exist in the undercity and that being "good" or "bad" isn't that simple. ppl seem to be mad she didn't try and dismantle piltover's entire police force like that would be possible or a solution to zaun's problems. she has a strong moral compass and a sense of justice - innocents should be protected and criminals prosecuted, zaunites or topsiders. if you steal, you should go to jail. but when you come from the dark alleys of zaun and poverty and deprivation is all you know, you're way more likely to steal, and when enforcers are prejudiced against you, you're more likely to face excessive violence and maybe serve a longer sentence. and this is why she tells the council that there are good people down there, that there is rampant poverty, famine, a drug problem, etc. her focus is on the daily humanitarian struggles of the average people.

you guys will twist yourselves in knots to make excuses for jinx, justify her actions and forgive her for what she's done (when she literally, aside from murdering a bunch of people and destroying a fuckton of stuff because she was insane, unstable and uncontrollable, literally directly prevented zaun from getting sovereignty by blowing up the council) but you don't recognize caitlyn's entire change in character started when jinx tried to blow her up multiple times, kidnapped her, tried to get vi to kill her, blew up the council killing her mother and then (this wasn't jinx but caitlyn doesn't know that) turned the councilor memorial statue reveal to a massacre. see: this very accurate post.

"caitlyn never took her uniform off" well maybe because she was scared of jinx, paranoid, angry, grieving her mother, seeking justice and buckling under the pressure of becoming head of house kiramman. perfectly normal reactions considering the circumstances. she even acknowledged to jayce how upsetting it was to realize this hate she harbored for jinx had started to undo a lot of the work she did towards understanding the undercity and zaunites better and seeking to help them. but i believe she thought jinx was a hazard to them too.

i have a whole other post diving into this, as well as why she wanted vi to "put on a uniform" (temporarily until they caught jinx, and not just bcuz she thought vi was "one of the good ones" but bcuz she wanted her close, under her protection and equipped w/ all resources and privileges available to piltover, not to mention ppl are seriously undermining the fact that vi played a role in that conflict too) and why she made the mistake of going too far in her pursuit of jinx - most notably becoming rougher and jailing people, poisoning the air as a battle tactic, endangering isha, hurting vi, assuming the commander position and pursuing jinx even harder. but this post isn't about that, it's about other ways in which she metaphorically took off her uniform, and even the way she wore it.

caitlyn wasn't happy as a commander, she wasn't going on a power trip, she didn't "become a dictator all too willingly" like ppl are saying. and yes, that doesn't mitigate the damage she did to zaun but she had clear goals she was pursuing, none of which involved harming innocents (but protecting them), and she even confronted ambessa when she thought her right hand was out of line, which caused tension between them. though blinded by a desire for revenge, she remained concerned with the undercity's state and realized ambessa was manipulating her, even saying something like "why is peace always a justification for violence?" to her. the cost of what she was doing was too much for her. all things considered, commander caitlyn wore her uniform in the best possible way.

and she took it off as soon as she saw what was on the line. vi's father turned monster would go berserk when injected by singed, innocents would be ripped to shreds, and he'd be captured and used as a weapon by ambessa (against the undercity or whomever). for all of these reasons, caitlyn betrayed ambessa. she double crossed her, and the way she acted it out matters, not just because vi, who she'd decked the last time she saw, called her "cupcake". but because it was the right fucking thing to do.

i have a separate post about caitlyn's implied guilt about the things she'd done, about her knowing she couldn't undo those mistakes. this is what made her so desparate to try to make up for them that she not only send the guards away so vi could free jinx (another brilliant analysis here), but it also resulted in the way she fought ambessa tooth and nail alongside mel - like she had a death wish. she, a sniper, sacrificed her eye so she could remove ambessa's talisman by cutting it free with the dagger she took out of her own side. and even in the very end, when she asks vi if she's still in this fight, it could be interpreted as the fight for zaun too since she gave sevika, a zaunite, an ally of jinx, her mother's councilor seat.

so don't fucking talk to me about how she "never took her uniform off" for vi, when she's done that so many times metaphorically (and their last scene is literally one of the very few in the entire show where she isn't wearing any insignia), and she's done it for zaun too. and maybe even more so than that - it's how she wore it that matters. what she did with her privilege and her power - her character and agency.

season two is at fault for mismanaging the piltover/zaun conflict and not focusing on it enough in its latter half, as well as also not showing any proper longer caitvi conversations that might've taken place, in favor of... glorious evolution alien robots??

[sofiadragon]

I do like Jewish Snape or Jewish ancestry Snape when I see it in fanfiction. I've seen several takes on it and I think it adds a lot of nuance. There should be more diversity in mainstream fiction so let's inject it where it makes sense, and for better or worse JKR did write him with those traits. (I even read one that strayed a little too far into bashing for my taste where Mr. Evans tells Severus flat out he'll never have permission to date his daughters because his father is a Jew, and that was the first big crack in their friendship - which made them both a little racist which I suppose evens the scales a bit.)

Prince is a very western name, but in the fannon spaces that got me into those ideas, it was his mother's ancestry that gave him his coloration and his hair in particular was that thick Asian or Romani texture.

Also, for what it is worth, my great-grandfather was born with the given name Slavi and a surname that is essentially (but not exactly for privacy reason) RomaniDude. When he moved out of the way of the advancing WWI armies in a hurry, he became Steve Rodgers (again changing the surname slightly to one that's functionally the same.) He kept his initials but now sounded like he wasn't a foreigner... aside from sounding exactly like Boris Badenoff from the Rockey and Bullwinkle cartoon when he spoke. That sort of thing is less likely for upper class people, of course, though he was a chemist with more money than most who were running for the hills with only the clothes on their backs at the time. I have been told anecdotally during my dabbling in genealogy that Prince is a common way to anglicize certain names for Russian immigrants.

However, all this is from a US American viewpoint, so the name change conventions for people who didn't use this alphabet in their home country were probably different in England. I checked out the other post later the same day I queued the above post, and it's rock solid theory craft. Love that even Severus' first name fits.

Harry Potter, a first year with bad eyesight and an old lens prescription, who, so far, has only seen Snape from far in the Great Hall, and from close in the dark dungeon, sees him outside in the sunlight for the first time, and realizes that his hair, and eyes, are in fact brown (because — let’s be honest — Snape is a pasty-white British man). This is a shit-post, by the way.

That being said, I am going to keep drawing him with black hair and black eyes.

[masterwolftfs]

TF Trade with @axeeglitter

Josh was tired. He'd been on the set for hours, trying the same scene again and again, unable to get the role he was trying to convey just right. The director had lost his shit by this point, and had made Josh go outside for a breather and to collect his thoughts, because no matter what he tried, he just couldn't do it right. Josh, sick of being verbally assaulted by his director, had left in a rage and now sat in his dressing room, stressed and upset. After taking a few moments to himself, he started trying to calm down. Focusing on the items around him, he used the techniques his therapist had taught him to help ground his thoughts.

"Focus on 5 things you can see, Josh." He muttered to himself. One - The poster of the film he was acting the lead role in. Two - The LED bulbs adorning the mirror opposite where he sat. Three - the mirror, with his dashing reflection looking back at him, gorgeous event through the visible stress. Four - A small cactus, on his dressing table desk, his favourite plant, though it could use a little watering, that was for sure. And five - a small, golden lamp, pristine and very out of place, laid carelessly on his couch, as if thrown there in a rush. Josh didn't remember seeing that lamp before, it kind of looked like the stereotypical genie's lamp, maybe taken from the prop cupboard? But there wasn't a genie in this film… Bewildered, Josh headed over to the lamp and picked it up. Chuckling slightly to himself, he rubbed it, not really expecting any response, but figuring it funny to mess around with it nontheless. As expected nothing happened. He sighed. Despite knowing it wasn't real, magic wasn't real, he had been at least half hoping the lamp would respond to his touch. Throwing it back down, he muttered, "I just wish it was simpler" he sighed. "Easier. This is getting too fucking hard for me." As he uttered the words, it responded. The lamp glowed, softly, barely perceptible in the already warm lighting of the dressing room, but Josh could feel a pull towards it, and he went to pick it up. As soon as he touched it, his vision went. Terrified at his sudden blindness, he realised he couldn't smell, or hear either. His senses had been ripped from him, as if he never had them. Everything just stopped.

"Mr Hutcherson? Are you okay in there? It's been over an hour since you came back here… you're needed on set!" The extra, Carl, had been forced to come and get Josh on the director's behalf. Knocking for the fifth time without reply, he opened the door, to see the room empty, everything pristine bar a lamp laid sideways on the floor. "Must've been brought here by mistake" Carl laughed, and called out for Josh again. "Mr Hutcherson?" He must not be here, he thought. Picking up the lamp, suddenly it responded to his touch, a cloud of smoke enveloping Carl, and suddenly, Josh was in front of him. Golden bracelets adorned his wrists, and a gold collar was wrapped around his neck. Josh's eyes glowed gold and he boomed "Master… how may I serve you?" "Mr Hutcherson? Is that… you?" "If that is what you wish to call me, then yes." Josh's mind was screaming inside the genie's body, unable to convey his real emotions or thoughts. It was as if he was trapped inside this form, unable to be freed. "Tell me, what do you wish?" "I guess… I wish for a drink, this prank is insane, lets celebrate it with one haha" Carl chuckled. Suddenly, a drink was in his hand, seemingly materialised there out of nothing. "Woah…." Carl got a sudden idea. Josh had always been an infuriating coworker… so… maybe he should pay… "I wish to be Josh Hutcherson." Carl said, dead serious. Instantly, his body started shifting, muscles toning, height shrinking, hair changing, his entire body warping to match his twisted desire. Inside the genie, Josh could only scream, desperate to stop this. As Carl changed, the genie also changed, adopting his previous form, looking more like Carl. His mind started shifting, and the internal voice started quieting down. He was being erased, wiped, and Carl was setting in. Josh could remember who he was, but he was programmed to act exactly like Carl, which, it seemed, included being gay. He couldn't bring himself to think sexually about women anymore, only men, and the new Josh in front of him was beautiful. He instinctively groped his dick, smirking at the new Hutcherson in front of him. Carl, now Josh, noticed. "I wish for you to love me" He said, without any hesitation. Within a week, the world knew Josh Hutcherson was gay, and he had married Carl, his beloved husband. Years of love and beautiful happiness passed by, with Josh's work going wonderfully, winning hundreds of awards, becoming rich and hollywood's #1 actor, famous and beloved by all. The world bowed to brilliant actor Josh Hutcherson, including his all powerful servant, the Genie Carl.

[taniahylian]

Sonetto was reversed by the storm

Okay, I know it sounds crazy like most of my theories tbh, but hear me out, cuz there's a lot of evidence for this one. And I do mean A LOT, especially since they changed the dialogue of the Prologue to be better translated, although I suspected it even before I checked out the new version.

So, first of all, let's talk teleport floppy discs.

The new dialogue emphasizes that the one Regulus steals was the last one Sonetto and her team had with them. You could deduce it before, with the old dialogue, but it wasn't as obvious as this. One of the investigators even tells Sonetto that they'll have to go back on foot, after Regulus steals it.

Now, this particular piece of dialogue is weird because we all know that being caught up in the Storm actually means you get reversed, but I assume the female investigator here meant that, if someone catches the Storm Syndrome, they're descualified as an investigator, which makes sense, since we also know the symptoms get stronger and stronger the closer we're to the actual Storm.

Still, the point is that it's urgent that they go back, and Sonetto even agrees, sending her team back to headquarters at this point. However, she stays to search for Regulus.

But, after Regulus escapes a second time (thanks to Vertin in this case), Sonetto still insists that she'll go find her, at which point Vertin actually seems quite worried about her.

She also emphasizes that if Sonetto doesn't go back now, it'll be too late. Still, Sonetto recklessly continues searching, and by the time she finally accepts that she has to go back to headquarters and abandon the mission, only ten minutes are left... although in-game it actually seems more like 10 seconds. But, even if it actually was ten minutes, that hardly seems enough time to get out of London and to wherever the Foundation is, especially considering that all employees returning from the Storm have to wait in line to get in, and many don't make it.

It's at this point that Sonetto runs off and we don't see her again until we summon her at the spinning wheel (and I'll get to that in a moment), but I'd like to point out to a scene in a trailer that was never released in their official global channel. We see the storm of 1966, which we can recognize for the cartoon patterns everywhere, as well as the café Regulus was hiding at, and caught in this storm we see... Sonetto, getting reversed.

But I hear you, Sonetto can't be reversed, right? She's still here, in the suitcase! Yes, but... How exactly did she get into the suitcase?That's right; through the spinning wheel, which has... some interesting connections to the storm.

So, the "lake" is actually made of rainwater from the storm, not normal water. Not only that, but now we know that it has that weird hallucinogenic fog that makes people fall asleep (except Vertin) and grants immunity to the Storm, just like the Aperion cave. And that's not even the only evidence here.

When you summon someone, you can see as the drops of water begin to rise from the lake, just like when the Storm happens. My theory here is that the spinning wheel isnt't able to summon anyone, but only people who were reversed by the Storm and that Vertin knew personally. Why do I say that? Because when she summons Sonetto, the game describes it as the line "forming a path on her mind", and I bet at that point in time Vertin was actually worrying about wether Sonetto had made it to safety or not, which is why she was the one summoned.

Also, let's remember that, although the wheel is part of the gatcha mechanic, Sonetto is, canonically, the only character we know for certain that has been obtained by this method. In most other cases, the game actually goes out of its way to explain how they joined Vertin and/or the Foundation (the exception being those we don't know about yet).

Also, if this is indeed the case; if the spinning wheel actually brought Sonetto back from being reversed... it did much more than that. It rewrote history so that Sonetto was never reversed. Why do I say that? Because Sonetto already had the mission capsule with her, which she had supposedly obtained in the Chicago office, and had also spoken to Madam Z and the commitee and been informed of her new post as the Timekeeper's assistant... all of this in less than half an hour? And right after the Storm too?

Doesn't seem possible, does it? Especially since the headquarters, where Sonetto was headed before the Storm, are in Europe, while the Chicago office is, well, in Chicago. To me, it's a lot more plausible that the wheel rewrote history so that, in Sonetto's memory at least, all of this happened in the past 24 hours instead of the mission to register Regulus in. Although she still remembered Regulus because it's implied that Sonetto and her team had been following her for a while.

Anyways, what do you think? Too crazy? XD

Someday I'll write my theories from the inside of the Laplace Rehabilitaion Center, I swear lol.

[watchingsunrises]

Ziam is real, climb on board

For the first time, we’re experiencing a genuine influx of people looking into Ziam, the real relationship between Zayn and Liam. And honestly it’s about time. It’s always been so beautiful and devoted and consistent and visible to those willing to invest and find out for themselves. It’s also been so unseen and dismissed and a bit buried by Larry too. I’m a Larry too, but right now I’m all about Ziam. I’m really happy Ziam is getting there deserved time seeing some light.

I’m not here to convince anyone. Ziam isn’t new, it has been around and discussed and real since 2012 when we believe their relationship started extending beyond friendship. There is an existing treasure trove that can be sought out by people willing to open their mind and examine it, especially from Zayn and Liam themselves. Right from the start and up until present day. 

The truth is we are experiencing a moment we weren’t expecting. First with Liam’s death. Now with Zayn touring for the first time ever as a solo artist. 

People are interested in Liam and that is a normal reaction. People are noticing a lot of things that don’t make sense and are curious and questioning that. People can’t make sense about his relationship with his “girlfriend”, the public PR performance at his funeral of a select group of celebrities (all aligned with Modest, Simon Jones PR or existing narratives regarding the boys) and of course the narrative around his “son” Bear.

Usually when things don’t make sense, there is a good reason, we know this with Larry too, and so in the same way people should look and critically engage. Gaps can’t always be filled when we are dealing with public media narratives that then clearly don’t align with who a person really is consistently as a human. It's pretty hard work for all involved to contain a decades plus closet, in times like this. That is a big part of what people are noticing with Liam. They should question public narratives and media. Liam wanted to be seen and heard for who he really was, and celebrating and talking about Ziam right now is one of the biggest parts of seeing and knowing Liam. Its not disrespectful if you've done the work to see and know, just like with Larry.

Now we also finally have Zayn touring for the first time ever as a solo artist. Seeing him on stage after a 10 year wait is kind of exhilarating and like any of the boys you get a reminder on stage of who the person really is, really leaning in and hearing the lyrics live and seeing his being. Zayn is very definitely coding to us in a way that he hasn’t been able to do so before. He knew we would be looking and he wants to be seen. He is literally telling us that he is honest and truthful in his music. Zayn’s public narrative has never made sense either, it's all the same closeting stuff. Copy of a copy of a copy.

The narrative set up for Room Under the Stairs was actually quite strange, and in reality it translates very poorly to the lyrics and the emotions. So many gaps and things that don't make sense. In the future I will share some analysis on RUTS. I’ve been immersed in the album non-stop since May. The album to me is mostly about his closet - the pain it has caused him, the effect it has had on his relationship, the pain and effect it has had on his long term partner, the ways in which he has had to reframe his mindset to live within the reality of his closet, the ways he has changed his lifestyle to focus on the simple things in life to help his mental health impacted by his closet (and other things). Yet throughout all that heartbreaking pain, he still talks about his person, his lover, he refers to 'they' in many key lyrics, he brings his partner into the lyrics clearly, lyrics that clearly refer back to past and present times. Its the same person, it always has been in Zayn's lyrics. He tells them and us that he wouldn’t change anything despite all that pain, that their love has been worth it, that he is devoted, that their love was like stardust from the start until forever. The most specific songs relating to his person haven't been included on the tour setlist - How it Feels, The Time, False Starts, Something in the Water and of course Stardust. They are the strongest songs on the album, the ones that have made me cry non-stop for the last 6 months. I suspect he rearranged the setlist, they would have been too hard to sing live. Instead we see a few B sides we wouldn't have expected on tour. I hope more people will listen to RUTS, it's absolutely devastating, empowering and life affirming and you can really see and feel who Zayn is.

Enjoy your Ziam journey if you decide to take it.

[digitaltaesan]

── HE’S SOMETHING

in which PARK JISUNG stumbles across his girlfriends diary, finding multiple journal entries about him.

PARING: bf!jisung x gf!reader

WORDCOUNT: 664

GENRE: established relationship, fluff fluff fluff, lovesick reader

WARNINGS: short and sweet :]

NOTE: part of my series yel express :>

today is our anniversary and i can’t help but dream about our future. i hope i’m not getting too ahead of myself.

but it just seemed perfect. a life where we graduate and move in together. of course i get the ride side of everything. he doesn’t oppose, like the gentleman he is.

before jisung i felt like i wasn’t worth of love. it was hard, watching everyone around me move forward and fall in love. but i was stuck in the same spot—stuck by myself.

when he came into my life it felt like heaven. he made me laugh, made me see the true beauty in myself.

without jisung, i don’t know where i’d be.

today i find myself reflecting on the chaos of my life—love has always been an interesting one. it sneaks up on you, sometimes when you least expect it.

i remember when i first felt what I thought was love—it was overwhelming to say the least. it was like everything in my world became brighter, but also more complicated.

love has this ability to make everything feel alive, but it also has a sharp edge. the vulnerability it brings, the fear of loss, it’s almost as if i’m willingly walking into a storm. and then there’s the joy, that sense of being seen, understood, and held by another person. it makes me believe that love is worth all the highs and lows.

but then there are feelings—those subtle, silent guides that whisper to me, shaping my decisions without me even realizing.

sometimes, it’s a soft warmth that tells me everything is okay, and other times, it’s a deep ache that makes me question everything.

i’ve learned that feelings aren’t something to be ignored. they carry messages. they tell me when i’m out of alignment with myself, or when i’m not allowing myself to feel all that I need to.

sometimes, i wish i could control them better—hold back the tears when they come or stop myself from feeling so much.

but without feelings and love, i wouldn’t have stumbled into jisung. and every time i think of the moment we first met, i never regret it.

there’s something so exhilarating about the feeling that everything’s new again. it’s like i’ve stepped into a world where every moment sparkles with possibility.

ever since he came into my life, it feels like i see the world differently. it’s as if everything, even the most ordinary things, carry a new kind of magic when he’s around.

when we’re together, even the simplest moments feel full. i never thought i’d find someone who makes life feel so alive, never thought i’d find jisung.

i used to believe i could find contentment on my own, that i didn’t need anyone to change the way i experience life. but then I met him, and suddenly everything’s better.

the way he laughs, the way his eyes light up when he talks about his dreams, the way he listens when i share mine—it all feels like a dream.

i never knew life could feel this bright. he’s brought a warmth into my life that i didn’t even know was missing. everything feels lighter, more vibrant, more hopeful when he’s by my side.

it’s strange how quickly someone can come into your world and change the way you see it. i find myself looking at the future with more excitement than i ever thought possible, simply because i can’t imagine it without him.

everything feels better with him—every smile, every conversation, every shared glance. there’s a sense of peace that comes from knowing he’s there, making everything feel right.

it’s funny, because before him, i never imagined this kind of connection. i didn’t know how much of a difference it could make to have someone who just fits, like two pieces of a puzzle coming together. life has a way of surprising you, and i’m thankful every day that he’s part of my surprise.

surely, definitely, he’s something

©https//www.digitaltaesan.com

[frozenjokes]

mumbo jumbo jealousy arc

ao3 link

“Tell me everything.”

Etho was expecting to get cornered by Scar at the first opportunity, but honestly, he thought he might get more than 24 hours given that Scar had a job. According to Scar though, ‘what else are lunch breaks for?’ He cited a concern that Etho might forget everything if left for too long, which seemed dramatic, but it was true that Etho never had the best of memories. However, most of Etho’s memory problems were due to an issue of Chronic Spacing Out, and there was none of that happening at the beach yesterday.

“Mumbo didn’t understand what Grian did with his face. Mermaids also shave. I don’t know why he was so confused. I just don’t think he liked it. That was his biggest concern yesterday.”

Etho knew that would get him, Scar cackling so hard that Etho was truly shocked he could manage to dial Grian’s number at the same time.

///

‘And while I was away? What did you talk about then?’ Mumbo was dying to know, and while he had planned to leave Altas and Etho alone while he tended to the humans, he couldn’t help checking back in on their conversation, needing to know every tidbit of information and human knowledge shared between them. Mumbo was just so curious, and learning about the humans from his original sources was great, but there was a certain catharsis in learning directly, having Atlas ask the questions and receive clear, direct answers.

But Atlas had been cagey in the few days that had passed after Etho’s visit, and while Mumbo had been hoping they would gain enough confidence to interact with a real human face to face, Atlas only cringed away at the sound of Scar’s voice above the water, more touchy than they were in the first place. Mumbo didn’t understand why. Sure, getting Atlas to change their tune about humanity as a species was a grand notion of optimism that Mumbo was not naive enough to play into too much, but this change was almost more unexpected; pure aggression to more of a.. discomfort? Disgust, maybe, like the smell of rot or infection.

Despite this, whatever was bothering them was kept tightly sealed. Though perhaps underestimating the power of human eyesight, Atlas did surface a couple days later to watch Scar and Mumbo in the shallows. Scar was playing some kind of game where he chased Mumbo’s tail, grasping at the fins. Scar’s grand move was a hearty leap to grasp his quarry, but a miss left Scar momentarily immobilized as he inevitably face planted into the sand. A perfect opportunity for Mumbo to batter Scar’s head with the very tail fins he was chasing. It was a good game, Mumbo quite liked seeing Scar flail and scream a little. As much as human noise could be a headache, something about it in the context of play made everything much more satisfying. Though, without this context, it probably sounded like Mumbo was ripping off Scar’s scalp with his teeth. Was Atlas wondering if Mumbo finally snapped?

Scar must have had a secret sense for when mers who hated him were around, because despite his engagement in active warfare, he noticed almost immediately, breaking off their game to wave, then deflating when Atlas retreated in the next moment. Scar sat in the swallows after that, arms wrapped around his legs with his chin on his knees looking distinctly sad, and despite Scar’s obnoxiousness when it came to Atlas these days, Mumbo couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for him. Humans were social and loud, and this one just really loved making connections, even if he didn’t always know how.

“I don’t mean to scare him off..” Scar mumbled, and while Mumbo didn’t know what he was saying, he got the sense the human was referring to Atlas, “I just want him to come around, right? To know it’s okay.”

Mumbo didn’t know how to help him. He couldn’t explain, though with how pushy and nosey both humans could be, Mumbo was sure they had already heard from Etho about Atlas’s distaste for their kind. However, Mumbo could sing, and that quiet comfort was the best that he could offer for a downcast heart. It brought Mumbo peace to see Scar relax under his song.

…

‘I just don’t understand how you can be so comfortable with it, let it so close,’ Atlas had started, the words coming out of nowhere, hours after Scar had left. This wasn’t the first time this sentiment had been expressed, but judgement was not at the forefront of Atlas’s concern tonight, the mer shrinking in their discomfort. ‘I don’t think it’s natural behavior for humans either, it should be afraid of you, not interested like it is, especially not in me.’

‘They’re curious things,’ Mumbo whistled simply in response, and while he was a little tired of this line of conversation, he really did want to be patient. This was deeply antithetical to everything Atlas had known back home, and honestly, without the harsh edge to their questioning, the repetivity of the matter bothered Mumbo far less. ‘Scars especially is a very curious thing. You won’t have the same problem with Red.’

‘I don’t like it. Your Scars. I don’t like the way it regards you.’ Atlas’s clicks carried an emotion Mumbo couldn’t quite parse. He communicated this with a small flick of his tail and fins, asking for elaboration. Atlas was quiet for some time, deliberating.

‘Ghost had a few things to say about that human’s interest in us.’

Mumbo’s curiosity was instantly piqued, though Atlas only looked discomforted when Mumbo goaded them on, like they were hoping Mumbo would pluck the answers right out of their mind. This was distinct in its oddness; Atlas was not the type of mer to talk in circles. Finally, Mumbo had to prompt them vocally.

‘Say what you mean?’

‘It has..’ the hairs on Atlas’s shoulders prickled, ‘Courting motivations.’

Mumbo imagined that if the humans heard this, they’d laugh so hard that their lungs would fail to support them. He himself let loose a delighted trill, much to Atlas’s alarm.

‘Did you know? Does it not disturb you? Why didn’t you warn me!’

Mumbo waved them off with his tail, ‘Scars is not interested in you, don’t be ridiculous. Their fascination with mermaids mirrors my own curiosity with humanity. Whatever Ghost told you, they exaggerated.’

Atlas was not to be persuaded. ‘They seemed certain.’

‘Human emotion is difficult enough to read on a human-born. Ghost is particularly difficult to decipher, and they do nothing to make it easier. If your intentions are to study the basics of human language once Ghost returns in their proper form, you’d benefit from spending a little time near the beach. They’re expressive creatures, Scars especially.’

Atlas didn’t need to say a word for Mumbo to know they hated the idea of that in any capacity. ‘That one worries me.’

Mumbo couldn’t help but snort. He hadn’t been intending on telling Atlas this as he knew he’d never hear the end of it, but Mumbo figured it would be worth it to quell this ridiculous anxiety.

‘If there were to be any courting between human and mer, it would be between Scars and I only. If Ghost was feeling snide, that’s what they were referencing.’

It looked like Atlas didn’t know if they wanted to snarl or flee. Mumbo got the message loud and clear, though a deep satisfaction turned his tail inward in a soft curl. He was pleased, even if the status of whatever relationship he and Scar had kindled was unclear. Mumbo didn’t particularly care! He quite liked the human casual, the relationship without commitments. He liked having Scar’s attention, far more than he’d ever cared for a mermaid’s. It was novel. Special. And honestly, human or mer, Mumbo had never known anyone else to hang off everything he did and said with such keen interest.

‘Surely you’re not serious,’ Atlas finally said, to which Mumbo purposely misconstrued the meaning.

‘We won't be trading scales any time soon, no, no.’

Atlas seemed to short circuit at the suggestion that this was even on the table, then clearly chose to ignore the sentiment, shaking themself off, ‘That human is not to be trusted. This- Practicality aside, this is deeply disturbing.’

‘If courting is all about practicality to you, I recommend you never find a lover.’

‘You can’t just exclude semantics from these discussions! What is it expecting of you? You of it? You can not mate, you can not occupy the same spaces comfortably- even besides the concept of interspecies courting being entirely antithetical, there is just no way something like this could work long term!’

Flippantly, Mumbo turned away, ‘I can do whatever I please.’ He could waste his time responding to all those questions, but what was the point when Atlas didn’t care for the answers. It wasn’t like Mumbo cared for the answers either, his interest solely in living freely and indulging in whatever was currently sparking joy. So what if he acted on fleeting whims, it’s not like he was hurting anyone.

‘I don’t trust it,’ Atlas said when they realized Mumbo would not be humoring them anymore, ‘Ghost spoke of an interest in the sea. Anything with fins, scales, and sharp teeth. They made it sound fickle.’

‘Ghost’s own disinterest in courting infects every word they speak about it, mermaid, human, or otherwise. Scars does not care for you; they will be too busy looking at me.’ Mumbo gave a pointed flick of his tail, all his fins now twitching in annoyance. Scar was outgoing, he went out of his way to put himself out there, but Mumbo would not consider him fickle. Whatever Scar and Grian got up to was none of his concern; as far as he knew humans were just like that, fighting over each other and mating with reckless abandon. There was still so much that Mumbo did not know about humans, but these weren’t the things that would keep him up at night. Mumbo was experimenting! He was having fun! As far as he could tell, so was Scar! It wasn’t- It wasn’t fickle! Fickle. Ridiculous.

Mumbo abandoned Atlas on the sandy floor, withdrawing in a huff to the burrow where he kept his things and slept.

His mind wandered. It took him down a path he hated to travel, though his thoughts lingered on the end of it all, defending Scar from the monster he seemed so eager to befriend. No one had been pleased about this, but Scar didn’t care at all, and while Mumbo had struggled to glean the meaning of everything he was doing and saying, Grian had admonished him for.. Scar had been chasing a monster whose scale had already been traded (metaphorically, at least. Mumbo had looked, and he saw none of Joel’s dark scales etched into theirs.)

Mumbo had been so startled by the question of mermaid monogamy that the implications hadn’t fully set in. Not that he was bothered if humans took multiple partners, honestly, that surprised him very little, but..

What if Scar really was only interested in fins and scales? It didn’t matter who they were attached to or the things they'd done to hurt someone.. Mumbo’s gut coiled. Was it so simple? If Etho had said it, insisted that’s really all Scar cared about- once Scar learned of Etho’s condition, had he pursued them as well?

Maybe Mumbo was the novelty.

///

“-one hundred years, Mumbo, one hundred years! The whole team got cursed by that goat, that’s why the Cubs never won a World Series for that long, but they pulled through! The curse is broken! Well, that specific curse at least. Apparently the Cubs have a lot of curses, like, a lot, Bdubs and I were looking that stuff up for a while last night, just all sorts of baseball stuff- sports fans are very superstitious it turns out! Who knew? One hundred years. Pretty cool!”

“Your ice is gonna melt, bud,” Grian called from where he was fiddling with his fishing gear; Mumbo was thrilled to see him back at his hobbies! Scar jumped to attention, looking mildly sheepish before babbling on.

“Well, I just wanted you to know where the name came from. Cub. Cubby Cub Cub. Cubby Wubby Cub Dub. Bdubs and I couldn’t stop with that last night, just Cubby Cubbing for like an hour, Etho just about killed us. But I was thinking about it, and I was like, huh! If this mermaid is sticking around for the foreseeable future, he needs a name! He- it- they- ohh, I don’t know what to call Cub actually! I wish you could ask them what they’d prefer..”

“I doubt it cares, Scar,” Grian said again, answering a question Scar did not ask. “People pronouns probably don’t mean anything to mermaids. Etho said gender was different for him, right? Probably the only reason he calls himself ‘he’ is because that’s what Joel started calling him.”

“Well I don’t want to call them it.”

“Then don’t.”

Whatever Grian had said must have made perfect sense, Scar shooting up like he’d had some great epiphany. “Great point! Anyway, I’ve been a little down because I know your friend doesn’t like Grian and I and that’s okay, but selfishly it's also extremely not okay to me and I need them to like me. I need it. But clearly my current methods aren’t working, so I was like, what else can I do? And then I didn’t come up with anything. So I called Grian! And Grian suggested delivering a gift through you, which was a great idea, but I was stumped on what to give them, y’know? I figured no human stuff, you like the humans stuff but- oh! That reminds me, I’ve got a trinket for you, don’t let me forget it- Anyway, I asked Etho, and Etho told me to stop calling him, but then after I called five more times he told me that Cub would never like me which was rude and also sad. After that though, he told me it’s really hot on the surface compared to the deep water, and that you guys have to travel a little ways out to actually hunt, and I thought well, why not give you a frozen treat! At first I was just gonna bring some still frozen fish in a cooler, but Grian, genius Grian, suggested I let you have the ice too! I got you a biodegradable bag for it and everything, but I hope you don’t try to eat that too. Do you like to eat ice? I do. Dentist said it was bad for my teeth and I had to stop, but sometimes I just can’t resist. Whatever kind of ice they put in your drinks at restaurants, that’s the good shit. Can’t let it go to waste.”

Scar retreated back to his and Grian’s bags, where he heaved a new container up off the sand, waddling back with it in his arms. Must’ve been quite heavy; Scar had never brought something like this to the beach before. Mumbo’s interest was piqued, though Scar never left the box’s side, making it frustrating to investigate. Oh, what he wouldn’t give to pull it off the beach and right into the water, then he could have his way. Scar seemed to anticipate this though (it’s not like Mumbo had a history of stealing! This was blasphemy!), using his body as a shield from Mumbo’s grabby hands and positioning his weight strategically so that he could fall on top of the box if Mumbo made a break for it anyway. Foul human, Scar never had any fun.

“Now, most of this is for Cub, but I have some for you too of course. Not even portions- I’m just trying to make a good impression here, I hope you understand.” Carefully, without turning his back on Mumbo, Scar opened the box, pulling out a- fish. Oh. Well, Mumbo was a little underwhelmed, he wouldn’t lie. It was quite stiff too, and almost shiny? Actually, now that he was seeing all this together, he recognized this box. Scar used to bring it often when Mumbo’s tail was busted; did he think he needed to provide food again? With all due respect, Mumbo hoped not. He wasn’t trying to be rude though, Scar must have hunted very hard for this fish! He took it, but nearly dropped it at the revelation that it was cold.

Now, this wasn’t entirely new, and fish given by the humans had always been a little cold, but never to this degree. The fish was nearly frozen solid- no wonder it was so stiff! Mumbo was utterly perplexed, but he didn’t want to give Scar the impression he was ungrateful, so he proceeded to devour the whole thing. It wasn’t unpleasant, not by any means, but seeing Scar’s delighted smile made all the strangeness worth it.

“Gift.” Scar started, and Mumbo perked up, paying closer attention now that Scar was actively trying to communicate with him. “For Cub. Gift for Cub.” Scar pointed across the lake, which was rippling in the light breeze. “For Cub.”

Was.. he trying to give something to Atlas?

“Gift for Mumbo.” Scar produced one bag from the box, handing it over gingerly. It was tied tight at the top, and cold. Holding from the bottom, Mumbo felt a lot of loose pieces inside. Scar pulled another, larger bag up as well, struggling to point over the weight of it. “Gift for Cub. Cub.”

Cub. Mumbo had never heard that word before, but Scar had been saying it quite a lot today. Is that what he’d decided to call Atlas? Mumbo gave him a thumbs up, relatively sure he understood Scar’s intentions, and briefly set down his own gift so that his and Scar’s hands would not have to touch in the exchange. He couldn’t help but notice that Atlas’s package was bigger than his own, but it was possible this was on the account that Scar had given Mumbo part of his gift early, showing off what was inside.

“Go now,” Scar said, almost shooing Mumbo back. He got the idea, though was a little confused why Scar wanted him to leave so abruptly.. it’s not like the fish were fresh. Regardless, Mumbo dutifully delivered the parcels, waking a sleepy Atlas on the lake floor.

Immediate suspicion was a given. ‘What is this.’ However, Atlas sensed the cold, sparking interest as they drifted closer.

‘I think Scars has realized they can’t reach you on the surface. This is a new method it seems.’

‘Scars..’ Atlas repeated the name, distaste prickling across the hairs on their shoulder. Whatever intrigue they previously possessed seemed to die, repeating themself. ‘What is it.’

‘Fish, I think. Can’t say I know why, but it’s not poison.’

Atlas’s tentacles twitched in their suspicion. Mumbo couldn’t blame them, clicking, ‘You don’t have to eat them. They’re odd, frozen. Not inedible, just different.’

Mumbo couldn’t tell if the gesture Atlas lent him was amused or mildly incredulous, ‘You’re crazy.’

‘Not the first or last time a mer will call me that.’ Mumbo made to undo the ties on his own bag, only to be frightened as tiny shards of ice floated up and out in every direction, along with one or two fish. Even Atlas looked surprised, though Mumbo was silently delighted at the little trill that left their throat.

‘Stupid, stupid animals.’

‘Effective at least!’ Mumbo tried, all in good humor.

‘I’ll just sit on mine in that case.’ Atlas curled around their own gift, melting over the cold with closed eyes. Mumbo hadn’t planned on speaking, but Atlas intercepted before he could have anyway. ‘Not a word. And don’t let that human trash float away, they’re always shitting up the water.’

And with that, Mumbo was quite pleased for a while. He didn’t care either way for the ice, though he did enjoy chasing and eating the floating pieces. However, Atlas really seemed to be enjoying the cold, which was great! Mumbo was quite pleased Scar had found a way to get through to them, even if the human didn’t know it yet. When the two mers first arrived here, Mumbo had really been getting fed up with Atlas’s whining, but this was the hottest place Atlas had ever visited by far, and Mumbo felt for them when Atlas was still suffering in the heat after Mumbo had long since adjusted. Mumbo was very glad he happened to bring them here at the start of the cold months.

Mumbo left them like that, returning to his humans. Despite the fact that Atlas would rather be skinned alive than tell any human they liked their little offering, Mumbo couldn’t help but give Scar a thumbs up. Scar’s expression of unbridled delight was worth the wrath of Atlas if they ever found out. Mumbo had to hand it to him, it was thoughtful, even if the ice wasn’t supposed to be the main event.

Mumbo felt less good the moment he realized how much bigger Atlas’s gift was than his. Atlas didn’t notice; at least Mumbo was pretty sure they didn’t, they weren’t even interested in the fish, but they certainly noticed the next day, and the day after that. It was absurd, honestly! And maybe it didn’t matter, it didn’t matter, this was such a stupid thing to get caught up on. Scar was working harder to befriend Atlas because they were the one he needed to prove himself to, it made perfect sense! Atlas benefitted far more from the ice anyway, Mumbo was glad they got more of it- he gave all his to Atlas anyway! Atlas wouldn’t even eat the fish, but- he didn’t know! It was about the principle!

He tried not to let Atlas see he was bothered. This was impossible, every itch of irritation painted clearly in the picture of his constantly flicking fins, but Mumbo did try. Atlas might’ve been nearly as uncomfortable with this as Mumbo was; the last thing they wanted was Scar’s attention, and they wanted even less to get between them, especially if this was courting behavior. Honestly- Mumbo really didn’t know!

It didn’t matter.

At first, Mumbo attempted to remedy his own insecurity by bothering Scar incessantly for the next few days. When this didn’t work, Mumbo ghosted him. But then Scar got sad, just wailing at the beach for hours (minutes), and Mumbo caved to a day of typical activities. Scar did not take well to being ignored, and not in the way Mumbo wanted either; he was just persistent, deterred by nothing but straight up aggression, and Mumbo wasn’t trying to be aggressive! Scar just needed a healthy dose of his own medicine, to have his feelings minorly hurt or feel like some kind of replaceable commodity or- whatever. Mumbo only wanted to stop feeling like Scar would be perfectly content with any other- No!

This was so stupid!

Mumbo would show him. Humans could be expendable too- Mumbo could love just about anyone as long as they had legs!

Wait a minute. Grian had legs. Yes. Yes! Grian had legs! And he would be back soon- oohhh this would be perfect. Sure, after shaving Grian had gone down a couple pegs in terms of attractiveness- not that this mattered, but come on! He looked like an infant! Something about the death of that mustache which sparked Mumbo’s original inspiration was so deeply tragic, but he would persevere for the cause!

Mumbo would break Scar, he would regret ever- ever- Scar would surely regret!

[gayofthefae]

The biggest scam was spinning Mike's van speech as "fear is the reason I can't" instead of what it actually was, "I'm afraid of what happens when I can't".

The only way consistent with the other things he's said that he would be saying it is obliviously. He doesn't behave like he's having an epiphany and he doesn't behave like he recently discovered the answer to the question he's been killing himself over for months. He doesn't behave like he knows he has an answer before during or through his speech. So at absolute best, he is giving us the reason not realizing it's the reason and the idea is that he realized it was the reason during/as a result of Will's speech.

In that case, what prompted the speech then? If he's just sitting there scared she won't need him and has been sitting on this information the whole time, why bring it up now? That would have still been true three days ago and it wasn't what Will said because most of my conversations don't go "what if me and your girlfriend robbed a casino" "Now that you mention it, do you think she'll break up with me?"

Because he really goes down a full tangent of thoughts he has clearly been sitting on and mulling over. And there is a specific energy to those other situations we can weed out from delivery. It isn't "I almost have the missing piece for why I can't tell her I love her, your input?"

He's venting. He isn't confessing his insecurities, he's just venting. The concepts have been sitting with him but the words haven't. Those are just flowing out. He barely looks up at Will and they use multiple head on shots to convey that he isn't super aware of his presence or reactions. He's just word vomiting here. He isn't doing it for Will's input but he also doesn't seem to get anything out of it informationally.

He knows everything he's saying already. He just needs to say it to destress. He's venting.

This situation makes no sense for him to vent and accidentally spill the reason he can't say "I love you", and then also...not even notice. The turning point in this scene is the painting, not his fear. Regardless, that is universally known. We all feel it based on the structure of the scene. Some who argue the fear the reason try to argue that it had no bearing because it was just for Will but...well that's not how narrative structures work so moving on.

The turning point - the change to him being able to say it - is the painting, not his speech, and is treated as such. So for us to earn treating his vent as the turning point, he would need to treat it that way. He doesn't. He has no visible change during that monologue. It has changed nothing. He was just getting something off his chest.

He vented a fear. It was comforted by Mike. That comfort shifted things.

NOT

He explained the reasoning which was based in self-doubt. Will corrected his self doubt.

That second one also just totally undermines Will sacrifice. Will made a major sacrifice and it was not in vain, which it would be if it had been "realization!...compliments, that's nice" as opposed to "issue, solution".

[maybanksmusings]

THE WALLS ; JJ MAYBANK

SYNOPSIS ; when an unknown face appears in the outer banks searching for a father she's never met, she's unaware of how her life is about to be completely turned upside down.

WARNINGS ; jjmaybank x routledge!oc, strong language, depictions of violence, afab!reader, sexual content, mentions of abuse, drug and alcohol consumption, strangers to lovers, fast burn to slow burn, canon adjacent, not proofread.

AUTHORS NOTE ; changes are being made! see this post to learn more. to me, this part seems a little like a filler, but i want to explore veronica as a character and develop each relationship with each character as something more than a side character, not just honing in on her relationship with jj, which of course is a huge part of the story also.

part one. part two. part three.

when veronica begins to stir, the sun had long set. there was no way of knowing how long the pair had been asleep, all she knew was the lights of the chateau were off and there was a bright pink post it note stuck to jj’s head.

‘gone fishin’. jb pissed.’

pope signed off on the note, a small smiley face drawn inside the o of his name. veronica knew the pouges hadn’t actually gone fishing, that is was some sort of code jj would decipher when he came to.

in this moment, veronica was content. wrapped in the arms of the most beautiful person she’d ever seen.

what could only be described as a war was ongoing in her head. she wasn’t exactly one to believe in love at first sight, she thought this entire ‘spark’ thing was something made up by male authors to keep women reading their shitty romance books to keep them hooked, waiting for it to happen to them.

but then she met jj, and he was like a magnet. every time veronica was in his presence she was mesmerised, whenever he was gone she felt like all the colour was drained from the world.

there was only two problems.

there was a maximum of forty eight hours that they knew each other, add to that he was her brothers best friend, then add to that said brother made it crystal clear that inter-group dating was not allowed.

oh, and then the whole ‘nobody knows i’m his sister but us’ thing.

“you’re staring, baby” jj mumbled, his voice low and tired as he stirred beneath her “can’t say i blame you”

with a sarcastic scoff, veronica sits upright in the hammock, her legs laid out across the blonds lap “just admiring the drool on your face”

“aren’t you funny.”

comfortable silence follows, jj crosses his arms behind his head and blinks the sleep out of his eyes. even though she was staring off into the water, veronica could feel jj’s eyes on her.

“can i help you?” veronica quipped, a teasing lilt to her words as she face the boy in question “use your words, you’ll get there.”

unexpectedly, jj sighs and lets his head fall back “what am i doing?”

veronica knows he didn’t intent for her to hear him, but she did. she would be lying if she said she wasn’t disappointed, but she was even more disappointed in herself at the pang of sadness that hit her.

before she can say, or do, anything, jj is sat up a little straighter and speaking again.

“listen, you’re a really cool girl,” he pauses, shaking his head and starting again “you’re hot as shit, damn it!”

barely, veronica manages to mask her giggle with a cough.

“don’t ask me how or why, but i gotta tell you i’m super into you.” he blurts out “yeah, makes no fuckin’ sense, we barely know each other, no pouge on pouge macking, you ain’t feeling me like that-“

her body is moving before her brain can even comprehend what she’s doing, chipped nail polish framing blond hair as she held his face in her hands and pressed their lips together.

then, her brain kicks in, and veronica jumps back like she’d just been burnt.

“fuck, jay i’m so sorry. i wasn’t thinking,”

seconds pass agonisingly slow and veronica can’t help but think about just how badly she had just fucked up.

but she doesn’t get to overthink for long.

a calloused hand tangled in long, brown hair. the other gripping her waist like it was a lifeline, helping her into his lap as his tongue makes its way into her mouth.

the kiss is messy, it’s desperate. like two people drowning, taking in the other like they were air. hands cling to whatever they can, afraid if they let go it would all be over.

any reservations veronica may have had about ‘the spark’ were discarded, undermined even, this wasn’t a spark, it was fireworks.

but fireworks don’t last forever, and when the sound of john b’s rickety van can be heard drawing closer. the newfound excitement being dulled by the shadow known as a protective older brother, a protective best friend.

by the time the missing pouges pour out of the twinkie, veronica and jj are in much less compromising positions, now sitting beside each other trading menial conversation about the earlier events of the day.

“welcome back to the land of the living,” kiara teases, a yellow vape coming up to her mouth as she took a hit “you two were out cold.”

instinctively, veronica’s hand shot out, wordlessly pleading for a hit of her vape. with a groan, kie handed it over.

veronica lets her head fall back against the hard oak of the tree behind her, relishing the feeling of her first hit of nicotine in two days. she had a vape when she left home, but it died before she even made it to the outer banks and being broke meant she couldn’t even go buy a replacement.

“you could’ve woke us up, y’know” jj defended, trying his hardest to act as if nothing happened, reminding himself to stop staring.

pope scoffs, not missing the longing stares sent the brunettes direction but purposefully ignoring them “we tried, it nearly cost us our lives.”

unamused, john b walks past the rest of the group in silence. when he gets to the door of the chateau he looks over his shoulder and nods for veronica to follow.

the girl is suddenly more attentive, climbing over the human embodiment of a golden retriever and padding her way into the house behind the older of the two.

“does the name redfield mean anything to you?” john b questions, passing a beer from the fridge and getting one for himself “like, the surname.”

veronica is quiet, her finger tracing the rim of the can as she goes through every crevice of her brain in search of any name even remotely close, there’s only one.

“chris redfield.” she answers with a nod, popping the tab of the can and taking a swig “but i don’t get how he’s involved.”

“why not? who is he!?”

“a video game character.”

with a huff of annoyance john b drags a chair across the kitchen to sit beside veronica, unscrewing his compass and placing it down on the table. the name ‘redfield’ is carved into the metal.

“we went back to the boat, found a motel key, whatever.” john b shrugs off the rest of their findings, more invested in whoever this redfield person was. “then i remembered when you showed me that note, the one in the compass. then i found this, figured you would know more than i do.”

veronica gently traced the carved metal, it was definitely their fathers scrawl, she’d memorised it from the note she read over and over and over.

it couldn’t be a coincidence, her fathers note asking her to meet, the matching compasses. now this?

“if i’m going to help you, i need to know..” she trailed off, biting at the edges of her nails as she wondered how to phrase her next question “does this have anything to do with dad dying?”

“he’s not dead.” john b’s voice is louder, stern. then his face softens and he tears his gaze away from the compass and to the floor “sorry, just, i know he’s out there. and this? this is proof.”

“john b, i get it.” the younger routledge speaks slowly, trying not to tread on any toes “you’re not the only one who wants him to be alive, that needs to see him. but i don’t see how this—”

“dad found the royal merchant. four hundred million dollars in gold, and he found it. he’s trying to tell us where to find it.”

veronica sighs, fingers rubbing at her tired eyes as she once again tried to think of any connection to any redfield. when it came to family, she only knew the bare minimum, her fathers name and her mothers maiden name.

what she did know, however, was the royal merchant. as a child her father sent her maps and books on birthdays and christmases without fail, until one day they stopped.

“you’ve got books and stuff, right?” she finally asked, not wanting to get either her or john b’s hopes up. a nagging feeling was telling her their dad was alive, but she knew he wouldn’t just up and abandon his son.

the walls of her fathers study feel like they’re closing in on her, john b let her inside and left her to it. veronicas hand ghosts over the framed maps and dusty books. blueprints of ships with her fathers messy scrawl written randomly around the paper.

there’s pictures of john b littered all over the office, all different life stages, a few feature jj and veronica can’t help but smile at the photo of two little boys holding a fish between them.

on the desk there’s a picture frame, immediately veronica recognises her mother, years younger and a gentle hand placed on her tummy. in the same frame, there’s an ultrasound that veronica almost bypassed as john b, but when she looked at the date it was a long time after he was born.

it was her ultrasound.

it was her in her moms tummy, framed and proudly placed right on her fathers desk.

everything comes back at once. finding the note, and in turn the years worth of letters her mother had hidden from her. the dateline special with john b pleading for information about his father, their father. the fight with her mother, packing a bag in the middle of the night and making her way to the address stored safely inside her compass.

the tears don’t register until they hit the glass of the frame, the last few weeks of pent up anger, sadness and hurt bubbling over from the flame that single photo sparked.

her dad loved her.

for years she’d heard about her absent father, then the absent father that passed when she was a baby. the father who didn’t want the responsibility of a child and ran away once he found out.

but the letters, the compass, this picture? john routledge loved the daughter he was forbidden from seeing, from the second he knew about her he loved her.

and now he was dead.

a sudden wave of anger rushes from her head to her toes, glass shattering when she throws the dusty old frame against the wall with a scream. papers fly and maps fall from the walls as she turns her fathers office into her own personal rage room.

the racket coming from the small room shakes the chateau, so it’s no surprise when the pouges come crashing through the door.

the pouges eyes briefly flash with fear when their eyes land on the destruction caused by the newest arrival, but it’s quickly replaced by a familiar sadness when veronica crumples to the ground, screaming as loud as her lungs would allow for them to get out.

they don’t know what’s wrong, but it doesn’t matter. veronica was now considered a friend, and they gathered that’s what she needed right about now.

jj is the first to enter, drawing closer slowly as if he were being cautious “it’s okay, ronnie.” he mutters softly, dodging shattered glass as he knelt beside her “we’re here, we got you.”

kiara, john b and pope are close behind, wrapping veronica in what could only be described as a group hug until her tears subsided.

taglist!

@ren-ni @marleymarleymarleymarley @miidollaasignnn @rainingcecilias @tanyaherondale @xspideyhollandx @sluterainterlude @loverofmarsss @xoxo-ada @gigistalked @genderlessmenance

[lestcat-de-lioncourt]

how do you think they are going to go about the story telling for tvl

i know it won’t be a wwdits style but it is a funny thought

I am curious myself. It's brought surprise and wonder, and parts which capture it well already, but also what I wouldn't have thought.

I think at least season 3 will be dramatic, or Lestat will be tired of some things Louis has to say, as Louis has lied, embellished, or totally misremembered aspects of their time together, but similarly, this will happen even if different parties who exit a relationship believe that they're telling the truth, so it'll be good to see where they take Lestats perspective.

I think there will be some inclusion of Nicolas de Lenfent, how Lestat ended up in Paris, and there's teasers, musical tracks, and talk already of his music career. The inspiration for his music is partly a surprise, not what I'd expect, but it also makes sense. They may have changed this/will change it with filming, though.

Magnus. I'd say they'd include him. He is a difficult character for me, but I hope they tell the injustice that was faced, rather than how he was painted too nice in the QOTD movie, not to mention replacing him with Marius (or pretending he didn't exist at all amd it didn't happen to Lestat) however much I loved the movie.

This one I expect we will finally see more about the reality of Lestat, rather than through Louis' adoring and hatefully complex perspective.

In the past, we've not had much book to media, about that, not deeply, and not a way a movie can really intricately capture some complex stories, which is why I support the development of book series being made into a TV series opposed to one movie at a time. There's too much to these, and even if the series is an adaption, I believe it's capturing the essence well in a variety of ways.

Lestat is complex, he's problematic, he's experienced trauma, and living as a queer man in a place that was old fashioned, and as time draws on that will be not as hard, being out won't be, with The Vampire Lestat I don't know if they will delve into that but I feel we will certainly see some of it, the creation of him, his side which could be lies, or could be the truth, or simply, his perspective.

From the teaser, he already looks tired and fed up, having to sift through what Louis has to say.

There's a lot they can do, to say the least. I'm not disappointed so far, I know there are many who are, but that's just me. I don't mind that it's not wholly accurate to the book, and they haven't stated any falsified information that it would be exactly the same either.

I'm thinking Armand will be in it, flickering around the timelines.

I'm hoping to see a role given to Lestats mother, Gabrielle. It would be nice to see her finally shedding the feminine clothes and roles she never liked it the first place, and seeing her free within vampirism. It works for some! Haha. I don't know if they will, though.

Either way, I can't wait. I expect surprises.

[homestuckreplay]

Stuffed Grandpa Figurine: Only $413.99!!

(page 911-918)

The color scheme of the Harley fireplace and entryway is VERY interesting. Almost all furniture in the kids' houses is shown in black and white, so a colorful fireplace in itself means we're supposed to take note - and these specific gold/yellow and purple are associated with the luminous and ominous planets, respectively. In the top left above her fireplace looks like an ogre head of the type John just killed. Where exactly is Grandpa Harley exploring? Where is he getting these decoration ideas? Has he been to these planets somehow? Does he have an advanced agenda like uniting the planets or does he just think they look cool?

Jade's grandpa also collects globes, which are reasonable, tasteful and make sense based on his career, unlike some of his other interests. Although on the ground in the dark they are a little bit of a safety hazard. Less sensible are the suit of armor, mummy wearing a pirate hat, moose and Santa Claus sat on the couch.

This sequence is definitely set up to parallel Rose and her mom - on pages 231-232, Rose sneaks past a similarly-composed hallway where her mom stands in silhouette, and on page 389 we find out Strife between them is a daily occurrence. Jade talking about how predictable her grandpa is must be a nod to the reader, like she knows we've guessed the pattern.

When Grandpa Harley appears in silhouette, it's accompanied by a Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff quote. This only works for me because it feels like Jade's thoughts - he appears, just like she predicted, and while doing important sneaking work she accidentally thinks of a silly meme her friend made. That's very good. And he does look powerful, standing there tall with mustache stiff and fun held aloft lit by the roaring fire behind.

And then we get hit with a 3x triple psycheout combo.

Jade falls asleep at the exact moment of leaping across the divide, instead of successfully escaping like Rose.

The narration on page 917 and loading screen on page 918 outright tell us we're switching to Dave's perspective, but we suddenly cut back to Jade.

We begin what seems like a typical Strife between Jade and Grandpa, with an 'Aggrieve' option, except.... he's not responding. The man has zero reaction to being pelted with bullets. He's also standing on a plinth with his name on it, which is odd but I guess not impossible for somebody decorated and self-aggrandizing, but... IS THAT A LINE OF STITCHING GOING DOWN HIS FACE??

THIS OLD MAN IS STUFFED????

This changes everything. I genuinely feel blindsided by this development. I don't think this could have been predicted, no actual hints were dropped, but something did feel off about the way Jade talked about him. Like she was always using the same words to describe him and telling the same anecdotes, the way that someone might if they were pretending to know someone much better than they actually did. But I brushed it off and assumed he was just a predictable guy.

But this? I feel like throwing out everything I've assumed about Jade and starting again. Because there's no way 'talks about a stuffed figure like he's a Real Guy' isn't a defining character trait. I don't know whether this is the corpse of an actual human, like the ultimate big game trophy, or more of an animatronic situation. I don't know if Jade was actually raised by a grandfather or if this is a complete fabrication. I don't know if there are any other people in Jade's house. I don't know if she knows that this figure isn't actually alive.

I'd like some of these questions to be answered before I think about What It All Means! But I am definitely thinking about loneliness, and comfort, and imaginary friends, and the ways people lie to themselves to cope with difficult situations. And I think what there four kids have in common is that they are the most unbelievably lonely people in existence.

That aside, page 918 functions like page 769, where pressing any keyboard button gives a different fun animation of Jade blasting her gun or playing her flute. The earlier page ended up as a 'psyche-out' as it wasn't Jade's true instrument (and therefore couldn't play a haunting refrain) so I wonder if the same is true for Grandpa not being Jade's true guardian and therefore not her true strife page. Jade is all about these sudden tricks and I can still believe that John, Rose and Dave could end up with a different fourth Sburb player.

These pages with their 30+ different keyboard-controlled animations are so cool - the amount of effort they take to make versus the amount they contribute to the story might be out of balance, but I still think they should be there. In a world where the characters are controlled by keyboards (via commands at a terminal or in the forum suggestion threads) it seems only fair that we also get a turn. Every time I have to press a key or click a button within a flash, I remember that my computer is a crucial part of the story.

> Jade: What the hell is going on.

[pjowasmy1stfandom]

Okay, first off. THANK YOU SO MUCH for noticing the little details I put in. Even ones I hadn't consciously noticed!!

Some of these shots I had planned since the beginning and others were cause I needed a good transition or bc they came to me partway through. The book going to the TV report was one planned from the beginning, especially because, in the beginning, all Techno really wanted from life was to become one of the legendary authors. Now, he wants to stay out of the public eye as much as possible. (I'm not saying it's impossible for him to want, or even have, both things, but it'll certainly be difficult)

I was really hoping the viewer would be able to tell who the three shadows were. Phil I wasn't worried about, but the Piglins were basically just people without super distinctive silhouettes beyond 'there's two of them and Techno's been hallucinating them too' so I just hoped the silhouettes would be enough. Also part of me wanted to put the Wither in somewhere, but 1) I couldn't figure out how to add her exactly in a way that would make sense bc 2) I honestly couldn't remember if he hallucinated her or not because 3) Strangely enough, getting kidnapped by the Nether wasn't Techno's highest paranoia problem, haha

And yess, the fact that Phil won't stop showing Techno love, even when Techno's straight up hallucinating him is another one of the scenes that I daydreamed and instantly went 'yes, this is happening'. Hands are HARD, but it was worth it. Honestly, that third scene, right before it switches to Phil's face, is probably one of my absolute favorites.

I also really like the head jerk, Techno is just done with Phil and his love.

I wanted to do a whole spin sequence with the 'panicking again, dancing with adrenaline', as Techno did the whole running his bloody hands through his hair, to kinda have it be like everything's spinning out of Techno's control, but that was too hard for me to figure out when I got to that point and I didn't want to fight my brain, so I just did the swivel with Techno yelling instead.

Aaaaaa YESSSSS my ABSOLUTE FAVORITE PART OF THIS WHOLE THING. The hair flip is amazing and awesome. I kinda wanted the colors to be slightly closer, so it'd be more like the blood is staining Techno's hair as he's desperately trying to keep his personal identity to what he's made himself to be (rather than mold his entire way of thinking to what Phil wants or to what the Wither wants or to what anyone else wants). But yeah, the running his hands through his hair with stress and panic (I do it as a person with long hair, so it made sense. Also, I actually used myself as a perspective model for some of the shots to get angles right and such. Especially bc I have long hair, so I could figure out how his hair would fall) and the just kinda staring at his hands in shock and horror before looking up at Phil... Yessss

The eye shots were one of those transitions I just kinda did bc why not, honestly. I needed something more between the hair flip and Phil, but I wasn't sure what. Then my brain gave me this and went, 'you gotta' and refused to give me any explanation why it worked. I wasn't really sure why until you pointed it out. Yess, it'd be because he's seeing blood everywhere... (Also the fact that other versions of him are literally called Blood God...)

Fun fact, I was actually planning on having Phil have the blood-stained hands the whole time, but I didn't like it, it was too.... Mmm, stationary, I think? It wasn't interesting enough. So I changed it so he was just an ominous shadow standing guard until the last scene, where he reaches out to Techno with bloody outstretched hands, like he's waiting for Techno to run into his waiting arms

Do you think the minimal color pallette's good or would it be better in color? I went with it bc I was trying to see if it would affect my drawing/perfectionism, but in color would probably be cool too. It'd definitely take away from the dramatic hair flip scene though.

Anyway, happy Thanksgiving if you celebrate, and hope your probably semi-normal day goes especially well if you don't!

@nomsfaultau Here it is!! Voices In My Head, one of the songs that has joined my MFR playlist

I'm actually incredibly proud of this. I tried a new brush to try and combat my perfectionism and I think it worked, considering that this is done. I'm not super happy with some of the shots, but I think overall it looks alright!

Let me know what your favorite parts are!

[littlewrensx]

@spiritusmuses

"Morning." Tanya called to her best friend and her boyfriend as they came in. "Bring your Seal to work day? No one told me the memo. I would've kidnapped one." She teased the couple. Wren chuckled softly, moving behind the counter to turn on the ipad they used for their cash register. "He's dropping me off and bringing sweets to work." Luckily she'd actually be able to see him tonight for dinner. It was a nice feeling after living without him for three months. Tanya nodded, eyeing her best friend. There was something about her that seemed off, but she couldn't figure it out. "Wren? Are you okay?" She asked softly, putting her hand on her shoulder. Wren looked at her. "What? I'm fine." Turning to her man. "I'll be right back with those goods, babe." Sneaking out back to grab the day old pastries she promised he could bring to work for the team. Tanya watched Wren walk away, before turning to Nolan. "Why did you have to break her heart? She was so excited for you to come home so she could surprise you."