#and for some reason This is my roman empire. and all of you have to deal with it. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

blueberrypancakesworld · 22 days ago

Note

Howdy! Hope you're doing well!

Could you write a piece for Emperor Caracalla, in which Reader is his wife and is nearly killed when an assassin shoots an arrow at them? Like it's angst, it's Reader being unsure if they will live or not etc but maybe end with fluff?

I was thinking reader using She / Her

Totally understand if you don't want to write this tho 🤍

The lasting scar of love

Caracalla x wife!reader

warning : hurt/comfort, emotional, blood, kissing, cuddling, drinking alcohol, mention of death and torture

Summary : The imperial family consisted of the eldest Geta, his brother Caracalla and his wife, three people who formed the head of Rome. But when an assassination is carried out during a solemn festival in the Colloseum and the blood of the Sun is spilled, Caracalla's thirst for blood and fear seems to overpower all of Rome as he cares for his beloved...but how long before her life is extinguished?

info : Ahhh I'm so happy to write something like this so good and full of angst I LOVE IT. Thank you dear anon for giving me this request, I hope you are good, now everyone have fun reading ;)

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The leaders of an empire had to be infamous, when you heard the name of the leaders you had to get heart-racing, feel fear and already ask the gods for mercy.

The Holy Roman Empire's reputation preceded it, the world seemed to belong to them, there was no land, no area that they had not conquered and taken.

The imperial brothers were notorious for their mercilessness, the elder the self-proclaimed god who judged without even listening to others, his opinion and power counted.

The younger, even if not politically and divinely knowledgeable, was all the more ruthless, a child in the body of a man, as some said, who would climb into the Colosseum himself if it meant seeing his enemy dead and mutilated.

For years, they had been spreading gold and blood across the land, showing no mercy and causing fear...only the sun in the imperial palace of Rome was like a goddess.

The sun that when you saw it immediately gave you hope for a better world, it was the mirror of reason when it came to the atrocious decisions of her husband Caracallas and her brother-in-law Getas.

But only one reason did not seem enough for all the inhabitants and nihct all the gladiators, if they had known what was conspiring in the lower ranks the three would never have even entered the Colosseum.

The high sun fell on the palace, illuminating mosaics and paintings, and the empress looked out, a smile playing around her lips as she saw the red gem that had been set into the golden ring on her finger.

Remembering his smile when Caracalla had given her the ring as a wedding gift His favorite color a blood red she thought and shook her head with a grin, her servant pausing as her mistress rose to follow her.

They all got ready, another fight in the coliseum, a great match and a look in the mirror that told her she was dressed appropriately for what was to come.

The servant looking down at her adjusted the fabric before nodding and pulling it back so as not to disturb her any further, a golden fabric with a deep dead and dark painted eyes, the red for Caracalla and the black for Geta whose eyes also looked like this.

Even though she belonged to Caracalla, she had a deep friendship with her brother-in-law, in those moments when she despaired with her loved one, when the madness became too much, Geta was there to help her, ,,The color is beautiful!” she heard a loud voice as seconds before her door opened and saw Caracalla whose clothes were more the color of turquoise and resembled flowing water.

She couldn't help but turn and the fabric fluttered, the golden tooth flashed as his hands wandered over the fabric and his cheeks turned pinker as she gave him a kiss, ,,You look like flowing water my king,” she replied, tracing the shiny fabric, a nice job by the closer she had to give them credit once more.

The pair held each other in their arms as footsteps echoed through the corridor again and Appollo himself appeared to stand before them, ,,Brother! Majestically divine,” the younger one said, looking fascinated at all the gold attached to Geta and the fine work on the black fabric.

They were the blood in the water who took the hand of the flowing water which was overlooked with a smile of burnt wood and a god as the three made their way to the colloseum.

Caracalla held her hand, pride in his gaze and he kissed it again and again, which she returned on the tip of his nose, the two sat side by side on the throne and Geta made the announcement

,,An overwhelming fight,” she said, pointing to the sharks in the water and seeing Caracalla nod. Sharks were his idea, at first he wanted to pick up a crossbow himself but she and Geta couldn't persuade him to go for sharks, a decision that would mean fewer deaths, at least in the ranks of the audience.

The three of them sat down excitedly, wine goblets in her and Geta's hands, while Caracalla was much too jittery as the ships rowed out, she hadn't seen him this excited for a long time and Geta was eager to see who won...it was no secret that he wanted to see the "poet" dead.

She herself was almost indifferent, the Colosseum amused her husband, quenched his thirst for blood, she herself was entertained and Geta could live out his fantasies, it was helpful and as long as everyone was happy she would be too - besides, Caracalla was sweet bobbing up and down next to her when another one died.

It relieved her to see him like this, not delirious but simply happy and that was what mattered to her.

Horns blistered, wood creaked and sharks swam faster as arrows were shot at each other and after a few moments the first landed in the water and she knew that some bets were already lost or won.

It was another fight to the death, only on a different scale.

The battle was in full swing no one wanted to give in and even though the ships had reached every part of the Coloseum by now, the battle had wedged itself right in front of the stage. Directly below the imperial family who were looking down with anticipation for an end, anxious to see who would win.

,,Shoot! Kill them!” she heard Caracalla shout again and Geta had also put his goblet aside, she stifled an eye roll sometimes they both seemed to be children.

Two adults who could forget all their worries when they were here, a nice moment because they weren't bothered by the worries of the realm.

She was about to take a sip of wine, her hand went to her husband's, his blue eyes glanced at her, a happy expression met hers as the air was filled with a whirring sound and a scream could be heard.

There was a clink as the goblet slipped from her hand, the drink mingled with her blood on the floor, Caracalla's scream followed as je jumped up and stood in front of her to protect hiw wife and Geta's screaming command as he tried to pull his family away.

The arrow from the crossbow, shot with such force, had almost nailed her to the stone throne. Caracalla tore her away from it but did not pull the arrow out, too quickly would she continue to lose blood, too quickly would he fall into madness as the sanity of a frightened loving man struggled with his madness to burn Rome to the ground.

It...is...all...right she thought, wanting to say it but not making a sound as her hand went to her neck and she felt the unnatural inside. The blood stained her hand warmly as she coughed on a breath something seemed to block her air, she didn't see the blood flowing from her lips, the same color as her tunic.

As Caracalla pulled her along trying to be careful. It seemed as if the gods were beside her, as if someone was carrying her, as if she was numb, everything around her was melting and her hand felt strange as it slipped from Caracalla's grasp.

As if she had no control anymore, not seeing the blood trail that stretched from the throne into the hallway, the guards now supporting her as her body gave way, no breath reaching her as she slowly realized that something was probably stuck in her throat.

Blue crying eyes searched hers, his voice told her something and she saw Geta tear his brother away from her, but what they were arguing about she didn't know, her eyelids too heavy and the feeling of drowning even though she wasn't in the water too strong for her to move. Would she end up like this?

But who would protect Caracalla? A fear welled up inside her, arms holding her tighter, gripping her painfully, her voice like a distant echo as she spoke Caracalla's name, not knowing if he even heard it before the world around her was shrouded in darkness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A never-ending darkness for her, her unconscious body carried into the palace by the imperial guards, the medics attending to her as quickly as they could.

While the doors remained closed and nothing could be heard from the room for hours, it was the cries of Rome that resounded all the louder as Geta gave orders for security and arrests, while in the Senate it was Caracalla who returned to the Colosseum with sword, crossbow and torch and a group of soldiers.

For every hour that passed, the corpses of every single gladiator piled up in the arena, for every word he cut and shot more into the body, for every lie, for every false word he burned more and more.

There was no smile on his lips, no golden tooth flashing, no giggle and no desire for more, it was the sense of revenge and justice he wanted...he would kill all of Rome if it brought back his love.

Only when he had just shot the last one in the throat with the crossbow arrow late at night did the news of her awakening reach him, at least she was no longer in immediate mortal danger.

He ignored the words of his brother who told him to wait, ignored Dundus who jumped out of the way and doors were flung open as he entered her chamber.

Torches lit the room, the smell of blood hung heavy in the room and herbs only slightly masked it, ,,My heart, my sun I am here, you are awake, the gods have shown mercy” he said hastily as he sat down at her bedside, slightly bent over her as he took her hand and looked anxiously at the bandages on her neck.

It had taken hours to close the wound, using one bandage after another until she had stopped bleeding to some extent.

Her eyes still heavy, the pain burning and she slowly took heavy breaths as she slowly saw him clearly, ,,Are...you...hurt?” she asked slowly, gasping, trying to sit up, he seemed overwhelmed, afraid of hurting her even more.

Guilt and fear met her concern that was still for him, her fingers weakly stroking his cheek and leaving kisses on it as he laughed bitterly, ,,I made them all pay, sacrificed them one by one,” he assured her, seeing her touched look.

The blood that stained him, the blood of hundreds she had brought back and he would have given so much more, ,,So kind-hearted” she whispered and he laid his forehead against hers, holding her while his warm hands held her cold ones.

With every apology he tried to make, with every death he told her, she seemed to come more to her senses hours passed as he held her body, trying to give her his warmth.

Leaving gentle kisses on her battered body, ,,I will not lose you, the king and his sun belong together” he reminded her of her own words and the smile on her face matched his.

Over the next few days, the emperor stayed with his wife, only allowing his brother and the doctors to visit, who continued to care for the empress with everything they had.

Every day he continued to sacrifice gladiators, convinced that the gods had to listen to him, a concept that prevailed when the last of the gladiator's blood was drained and the sun of Rome was declared healed.

Although still weak, she managed to stand up with the help of her husband, holding on to him he instructed her to do one step after the other, ,,Wonderful! You are stronger than all the gods!” he exclaimed as she walked towards him and he took her in his arms, gently stroking the scar on her still bruised skin.

Turning her head away, not wanting to blame him, he stopped her, ,,That's over, I'm healed Caracalla,” she reminded him, seeing the piercing look in his eyes.

He held her gently, resting his forehead against hers again she heard the soft chuckle as he left a kiss on it, one on the tip of her nose, her lips before he placed a quick but loving kiss on her scar.

,,Rituals of our love...you survived, the scar shows our strength” he held against it and as much as it hurt, the fear and memory when she looked into that hopeful face.

The look in his bright eyes and the love on her body, he loved her, loved her for everyone, she couldn't help but smile and return the kiss.

No one would be able to kill the king and his sun, the leaders of Rome would continue to be three and that would not change, because even love could not be killed, it only made everything stronger.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@potatoesenpaii , @cottoncandiescupcakes , @k-yurieee , @somepallings , @abundance-of-fic-reblogs

#gladiator ii #gladiator 2 #emperor caracalla #emperor geta #emperor caracalla x reader #male x female #reader is female

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grillthegridmydear · 3 months ago

Text

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: 　The Good Witch　:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

pairing. F1 Grid x Leclerc!reader, Ollie Bearman x Leclerc!reader

summary ~ The baby of the Leclerc family experiences the worst heartbreak of her life while living in London, so she writes an album.

faceclaim ~ Maisie Peters

notes ~ This album has been my roman empire since it dropped and I am making it everyone else's problem now. My school level french is no use to me here so please pardon any terrible translations.

yourusername

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, arthur_leclerc and 12 621 others.

yourusername London I love you, you'd have to drag me away kicking and screaming <3

view all comments!

arthur_leclerc still cant believe you moved out before I did

yourusername cry about it I guess

user1 begging for the next ep drop on my hands and knees

charles_leclerc would it kill you to come home every once and a while?

yourusername voir maman ou Lorenzo? non. Pour te voir TOI ? oui, oui, ce serait le cas. (to see mom or Lorenzo, no. To see YOU? yes, yes it would) liked by lorenzotl

alexandrasaintmleux gorgeous as usual ❤️

yourusername Je t'aime belle fille ❤️❤️❤️ (love you beautiful girl)

yourusername Let me know when you finally get rid of my idiot brother, I wanna get a custom cake

charles_leclerc QU'EST-CE QUE J'AI FAIT ??? (WHAT DID I DO?)

yourbfusername my london girl ❤️

loved by yourusername

yourbff girl you're never allowed to leave you have witnessed too much that involves tequila

yourusername blackmail for life

user4 baby leclerc literally eating up the streets

user5 i need to see her in paddock again soon ITS BEEN TOO LONG

302studio

gridgossip

gridgossip singer-songwriter y/n leclerc has blacked out all her social media pages and made them private, this comes following the abrupt news that the ferrari drivers sister cancelled the rest of her european tour dates. sources say that she has blocked her long time boyfriend yourbfusername. could the couple's split be the reason for the radio silence?

liked by user11 and 320 612 others.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

f1gossip

f1gossip Heartbreak for baby Leclerc as photos of her long time boyfriend yourbfusername were released earlier this week outside of a popular london nightclub kissing another girl. y/n was spotted leaving Nice Côte d'Azur Airport with her brother Charles Leclerc late last night. The 21 year old pop star seemingly escaping her ex boyfriend and guitarist to return to Monaco.

view all comments!

user10 ok this is why we dont give men rights cause WTF

user11 poor y/n, i cant believe it

user12 not what i was expecting

user13 THIS MANS DAYS ARE NUMBERD

loved by charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc, maxverstappen1 and 864 others.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

It took 3 days to finally pull myself out of the pit of my childhood room. The sun bleeding through the crevices of the blinds screaming to be opened for some fresh air. coming back to Monaco felt like defeat but I knew that staying in London would kill me, plus the hushed whispers coming from downstairs reminded me that this was the best thing I could do, my brothers were dramatic enough without deciding to go on strike from racing until I finally agreed to come back.

Small snuffles under the door broke the serene atmosphere in the air, followed by tiny nails scratching to get in. finally pulling myself out from under the covers I cracked open my door enough to let a tiny four legged blonde into my cave, Leo weaved his way between my legs, herding me closer to the door. his persistence finally made me scoop him into my arms and make my way downstairs.

The already whispered conversation died as I took the last few steps into the living room. Four heads turned on a swivel to see me enter the living room. Maman sitting on the sofa with Arthur and Alex, Charles sitting at the piano in the corner of the room. "Bébé ? tu veux manger quelque chose ? nous étions sur le point de préparer le déjeuner." (baby? do you want to eat something? we were about to make some lunch.)

the idea of food made my stomach lurch, I skipped dinner last night in favour of crying into my sheets. Heartbreak had always seemed so stupid when I was young. How could girls spend all their energy loving someone who hurt them? I owe all those girls an apology. I could only nod as I set Leo down on the floor, he trotted over to Alex and with my arms free from the wriggling pup I sat down on the piano stool next to my brother. the guilt over cancelling my tour had been eating my alive for the last week, so many people would be so disappointed. I hadn't even entertained the idea of opening my phone since I landed, but Arthur had reassured me through the door that people were just worried about me, whether I was ok?

I had no idea if I was.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, alex_albon and 101 892 others.

yourusername drastic healing measures activated. thank you all for being so patient with me, here's a little treat. Blonde is streaming now!

view all comments!

maxverstappen1 funeral anthem

yourusername nurse! he's out again!!

user16 no cause max is so real for this, this man has a bounty on his head

alex_albon lily hasnt stopped playing it since it dropped. neither has logan.

yourusername i knew you were my number one fan logansargeant

logansargeant its going platinum in my house

user15 AHHHH THE GRID IN THE COMMENTS!

user16 i love their friendships so much

lilymhe WHAT A GORGEOUS GORGEOUS GIRL

yourusername wifey 💍💍💍

alex_albon today is not the day and i am not the one 🤺🤺🤺

alexandrasaintmleux face card is never denied!

loved by yourusername

user27 oscar in the likes 👀👀👀

user21 girl EVERYONE is in the likes

oscarpiastri where was this energy for cates brother?

yourusername tbf Hattie ATE in her cover so its not my song anymore

arthur_leclerc i think maman is still weeping that you went that light with the bleach

charles_leclerc

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, arthur_leclerc and 13 253 others.

charles_leclerc I remember the day you were born and you cried so much we couldn't hear ourselves think. you demanded to be heard and since that day you have had music in your soul. it has been an honour and a privilege to watch you grow into the woman you are today. happy birthday ange, thanks for letting your big brother watch you make an album.

view all comments!

user21 ALBUM!?! SAY SIKE RN

user22 part time driver, full time stan

user23 can we blame him though?

user24 happy birthday!!! now back to the ALBUM ANNOUNCEMENT!!

user25 EVERYBODY STAY CALM

user26 not charles leaking the album announcement 😂😂

yourusername thanks cha! DID YOU JUST LEAK MY ALBUM!

yourusername

liked by scuderiaferrari, charles_leclerc and 468 648 others.

yourusername ok since SOMEBODY couldn't keep a secret for 3 seconds 😠 my father always taught me that boys weren't worth the energy and to hit them back twice as hard. so here I am papa, making you proud.

The Good Witch is now streaming on all platforms!

view all comments!

carlossainz55 spoken like royalty princesa, congratulations!

yourusername gracias chilli !

charles_leclerc je t’aime ange, sorry again.

yourusername i might forgive you

landonorris album of the year i'm afraid

yourusername how tragic 😱

oscarpiastri y/n please Hattie wont stop playing it, im begging you take the album back

yourusername you are the worst piastri

user 15 eating this up

user36 GIRL THIS WAS AN ATTACK! WENDY!!! NO BODY TALK TO ME!

user39 this may go down in history as the cuntiest slay of all time

user40 OH SHIT, HE LOST THE BREAKUP

loved by olliebearman

user40 ARIANNA? WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE??

yourusername

liked by landonorris, olliebearman and 792 721 others.

yourusername are you gonna feel the way I feel? are you for real?

comments are limited on this post

olliebearman

liked by georgerussell63, arthur_leclerc and 87 621 others.

olliebearman this is in fact a john hughes movie and the girl does in fact get the guy ❤❤

tagged yourusername

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

Hey yall! just something a little short and sweet to get back into the swing of things.

i do want to eventually do a series based on this album for the grid cause i am obsessed.

let me know what you think

-A

#formula 1 #ollie bearman #f1 x reader #charles leclerc #leo leclerc #x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic

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omgthatdress · 2 months ago

Text

Just a little considerations for those still grieving Liam Payne

So, right now, you are probably still lost in some very real grief over someone you never met but has still been a major part of your life since you were thirteen. You feel like you've lost an extremely close friend. It's hard to imagine your life where he isn't somehow present.

I know all this because felt the exact same way seven years ago when Chester Bennington died by suicide. And I do have a little bit of wisdom to share with you all right now, wisdom that I really wish I didn't have.

First of all, it's okay to be sad. To cry. To feel like shit and wish this had happened to someone else, someone who deserved it. Give yourself the time and space to feel all that because it's the only way you can start to move on. Feeling sad is only a problem when, months later, you simply CAN'T move on. That's depression, and that's when you should seek professional mental health treatment.

Secondly, there aren't going to be ANY easy answers in this. Right now a lot of people are looking for fingers to point, people to blame, and even finding conspiracy theories that Liam was murdered. While it may be initially comforting to fall into the idea that Liam didn't do this to himself, he was murdered for some reason (usually because he was going to expose a pedophile ring of some sort), conspiracy theories are always wrong and will NEVER give you the satisfying answer you want.

It was Liam's decision to step out onto that balcony, and his alone. It is no one else's fault. Accepting that is incredibly hard to do, but it is ultimately what will grant you the most peace.

As for what lead up to that, well, there's a lot. Fucked up celebrity deaths are kind of my Roman Empire, so while I never knew Liam, I DO know a lot about what leads up to huge, terrible tragedies that play out in the tabloids in extremely ugly ways.

Becoming famous at a really young age is an incredibly mixed bag. While you do get to live out this shit 99% of people on earth can only dream of, it does mean you often find yourself at 30 with a career that's basically over. A lot of young celebs simply don't know what to do with themselves once the fame and adoration has dried up, and the answer is usually to do an absolute fuck ton of drugs.

Drug and alcohol abuse changes your personality. I know this from personal experience. Someone very close to me developed a serious problem with alcohol, and turned from a kind, funny, wonderful person to someone nasty, abusive, and resentful. Someone I didn't recognize at all. While I and my person were very lucky that they were able to quit drinking, not everyone is so lucky.

Liam deserved better. He was so young and he still had ample opportunity to turn his life around. But he made one terrible decision, and now he's dead, and there simply is no changing that.

So what do you do? Remember him, and love him. Be grateful for the joy that he brought into your life. Sing his songs, and stay close to the friends you made because of him. The fact that you are so fucking sad right now is a beautiful thing, because it only shows how deeply loved Liam Payne really was.

#Liam #Liam Payne #1D #One Direction #grief #celebrity death

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love-belle · 11 months ago

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well, i'm still in love with you !!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which their fall-in-love-again era is them soft launching each other while driving their friends wild.

for when you're still in love with them and will be for forever. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

social media au // charles leclerc x fem!reader

prequel - saw ur mom at the grocery store ·˚ ༘

warnings - language. suggestive jokes (???)

author's note - im so SORRY for not updating life is CRAZY rn like ???? so much has happened like im in LOVE im DONE with SCHOOL i have EXAMS SJSHSJSJKSKS im so sorry i hope u like this i love u all <3

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by lewishamilton, carmenmmundt, lilymhe and 1,725,819 others

yourusername he's in my head so much i might as well just give him some

11,628 comments

username HOLD UP

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username y/n ?????

username SCREECHING

username roman empire or roman empire

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landonorris just because you can type something doesn't mean you SHOULD

-> yourusername shut up u literally sprouted like an unwanted weed and not even the good kind

-> yourusername i am sorry that was mean

-> landonorris 😕

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username live love laugh y/n y/l/n

username i need cameras recording their whole vacation !!!!!!!!!

username this whole holiday will be so much more entertaining than 90% of all the tv shows out there 😭😭

username lord i pray that this is about charles

maxverstappen1 you didn't hear it from me but he's giggling

-> yourusername tell him to stop giggling and help me chase those seagulls away

-> landonorris LEAVE MY SEAGULLS ALONE

-> yourusername THEY ATE MY SANDWICH

username rip y/n's hater girl era u will be missed 😞☝️

username i know charles is thoroughly enjoying this like

username i will get over a lot of things in life but i will never get over lando and max joining the y/l/n-leclerc vacation simply because they do not trust charles to do the sensible thing

-> yourusername actually they're all dumb

-> maxverstappen1 excuse you

-> yourusername u called grey "dark white"

-> maxverstappen1 I PAID TO KEEP QUIET

-> yourusername blocking out the haters 🫸🙄🫷

username forever entertained by this group they never disappoint

username need me a max and lando to get me a bf or whatever 🙄🙄🙄

username waiting for charles to come here and say some stupid shit before going on with my day !!!!

charles_leclerc i bet u think about me

-> yourusername nah bc no way ferrari can make u THIS delusional what's the cause

-> yourusername i am sorry i was told that i cannot say shit about ferrari clown private limited whatever corporation

-> username please never change

charles_leclerc i will make u pasta !!!!!!!!

-> yourusername no thank u i saw what happened to arthur

-> charles_leclerc THAT WAS NOT MY FAULT THE PASTA WAS NOT GOOD

-> yourusername skill issue

charles_leclerc where r u

-> yourusername why r u typing like that

-> charles_leclerc lando said it's cool

-> yourusername lando thinks birds don't have feet don't believe him

-> landonorris why am i catching strays

username WHY IS NO ONE TALKING ABOUT THE FACT THAT CHARLES LIED TO GET MAX AND LANDO ON VACATION 😭😭

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by carlossainz55, pierregasly, landonorris and 2,167,926 others

charles_leclerc we'd still worship this love

12,628 comments

username NAH WHO IS THIS MAN

username OH ??????

username false god lyrics imma die 🤣🤣🤣

username y/n effect is so real

username PLEASE NOT CHARLES SOFT LAUNCHING HIS EX 😭😭😭

-> username y'all put some respect on my girl's name 😭

-> yourusername i am no one's ex i will sue u for defamation

-> charles_leclerc for legal reasons she's JOKING

-> yourusername how do U know that tf

-> username i missed this

username hshshdjssjdjsjjsajjn;;;;;;;;bwywuuaj;...

username crying this is everything i've prayed for

username no one's mentioning the fact that charles wasn't even supposed to go on the vacation 😭😭😭

-> landonorris he booked his tickets and acted like it was a mistake

-> charles_leclerc you're a mistake

-> username and THAT'S how i know y/n and charles are back together 🤞🤞🤞

username i need a documentary on this vacation u don't GET it

username max and lando we trust u

maxverstappen1 you just pushed your love in water

-> charles_leclerc she told me i looked like tweety from looney toons

-> maxverstappen1 well

username crying i love every second of this

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-> username his thought process is just so UNIQUE

username i need them to confirm their relationship so i can breathe a sigh of relief thank u

username need me a man who posts like this

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-> charles_leclerc highkey

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-> charles_leclerc you called me tweety

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-> yourusername OMGGGGG

yourusername we might just get away with this

-> charles_leclerc i told you, if you commit murder i will NOT be an accomplice

-> yourusername those are lyrics but fuck u too i guess

username i prayed for times like this 🤞🤞

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charles_leclerc 2 out of 262819 photos where she stole my phone and the one (1) photo with me in it like okaaaaaaaaaay (🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥💯💯💯💯💯💯🥶🥶🥶🥶🥶🥶🥶‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️)

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username NAHHH WHO TAUGHT HIM HOW TO TYPE LIKE THAT

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username andddddddd we're 🔙 to having charles have a breakdown every single time y/n (HIS GIRLFRIEND) interacts with him

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-> yourusername if u call pushing us both off the yacht and not letting us back on until we said "hiiiiii" civilly to each other extreme, then yes. they were EXTREME.

-> charles_leclerc still mad about it. i said "hiiiii 😍😍😍😍🥰🥰🥰🥰😘😘😘😘" and you said "hi 😐😐😐😐."

-> yourusername sorry i was too busy finding ways to poison u then ❤️❤️❤️ im good and better now ❤️❤️❤️ (police and officials LOOK AWAY)

-> username netflix needs to leave dts and document THIS

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-> danielricciardo excuse you i was the mastermind

-> landonorris you literally did nothing except sit on ft for hours and yell at us.

-> danielricciardo tell that to all those thank you texts (money) charles sent me

-> landonorris YOU TOLD ME NO ONE WILL BE GETTING PAID charles_leclerc

-> charles_leclerc i sent him $1 because heidi asked me to

-> heidiberger_ he threatened to fly out to italy i did everyone a favour

username the y/n effect is coming back with full throttle like yeaaaaaaaaah

username i need a trilogy on this vacation like i need EVERYTHING

username the way i KNOW both of their families just rejoiced like they were going through it 😭😭😭

username everyday i wake up and thank the lord and heavens for daniel ricciardo, max verstappen and lando norris

yourusername i look so good wtfff

-> charles_leclerc yes you do 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

yourusername bébé ( baby )

-> charles_leclerc mon ange ( my angel )

yourusername soulmates 4 sure

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-> username lord i am not your strongest soldier

-> username why is he like this 😭😭😭

yourusername lowk missed taking 26271727 selfies on ur phone

-> charles_leclerc missed seeing your pretty face every time i opened my gallery 💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

-> username y/n never leave him again please

-> username my man's TRAUMATISED

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celiime · 4 months ago

Text

୨ৎ — .ᐟ Him ‘n his stupid infinity! [Pt.3]

—> Part 3 belonging to the series of him ‘n his stupid infinity. Refer to part 1 and part 2 for earlier parts!

╰┈➤ Gojo Satoru is once more struck with the less than ideal dilemma of his cute underclassman hating him! It seems like no matter what he does, he always remains the object of your hatred—and he doesn’t even know why! Will today be the day where he finally has a chance to reduce your hatred? And maybe find out why you hate him?

Or in which, You hate Gojo Satoru! Him and his stupid limitless technique. Why does he only turn it on around you? A mere first year. Will today be the day you get some closure? Just why is his infinity activated at the mere sight of you?

warnings: fluff, literally one line of angst, reader is in denial and gojo is head over heels, they both r very loud students, takes place in 2006, reader is so cute…even gojo thinks so!! reader is a first year, gojo is a second year. ^.^

p.s—> i really enjoyed writing this! gojo n reader r my roman empire, i need them to get together soon ☹️ also— does anybody notice how gojo’s thoughts contain less exclamation marks when he’s not arnd reader? hehe—she just brings out the whiny man in him.

“I hate the rain! I hate umbrellas! Ughhh—“ A sniffle resounded from the classroom of the third years’ classroom, “Everything is working against me! Even her!”

“It’s peaceful.” His best friend, Geto, retaliated, throwing him a questioning look over his shoulder, “Since when do you not like the rain?”

His gaze traveled over to the six full plastic bags on Gojo’s desk, seemingly filled with all kinds of candies and snacks, did his best friend buy the whole convenience store or something?

“And do these…copious amounts of snacks have anything to do with it?” He thinks he could make quite a lucky guess.

For as long as Geto Suguru has known Gojo Satoru, it was always a silent fact acknowledged between them that Gojo has always been a fan of the rain—mainly due to the fact that he can activate his infinity at will whenever the rain pelts on him too hard.

But, who else does his infinity activate at will at?

“She hates me, Suguru.” A whine left Gojo’s mouth as he squished his cheek against the cool surface of the desk, eyes tracing the trail of the rain as it stained the windows. “Even when I’m being chivalrous! She denies all of my help!”

Geto can’t help himself from rolling his eyes, though with a hint of fondness, at how you’re mentioned once more.

He can admit that their underclassman is especially charming in your own way, but Satoru’s comical whining is getting old.

No matter what the conversation is about, Gojo always finds a way to bring up his dismay about the failure of his advances towards their underclassman.

If it wasn’t so consistent, then Geto would’ve thought that it was cute.

“What? Did you push her into the rain or something?” He chuckled, throwing his dismayed friend one last look before looking back towards the window, watching the raging rain.

Gojo’s expression dropped even more at the mention, “Why do all of you say that?! I’m not a monster!” A sigh left Gojo’s lips, his glasses discarded beside him on the desk as his gaze focused on two raindrops; a distance away from eachother, despite being on the same window glass.

A small smile unconsciously perks up the corners of his glossy lips.

If he could estimate the distance between those two drops, then he would say that they’re five feet apart.

Why, though?

Man! Even rain drops hated eachother! There was no hope!

“I just don’t understand why she has to keep her distance all the time! She’s so cozy with Haibara and Nanami, even with you and Shoko—but me?” He groaned, barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes, “Bleh! I’m trash apparently, according to her.”

Silence persisted in the classroom for a bit, granting peace and only broken by the sound of the storm outside.

Before his best friend’s laugh rang out in the otherwise empty classroom.

“Are you the reason why she came back to the dorms looking like that?”

The smile on Geto’s face was undeniably teasing, shoulders trembling with the evidence of laughter as he shook his head fondly.

“Suguruuu! Don’t laugh! Just listen—“

“I’ll be right back.” Your voice rang out in the first years’ classroom, tugging your bag off the chair as you approached the door. “And you’re not off the hook, Haibara!”

A whine followed your words, but it was quickly muffled as soon as the door to the classroom closed behind you.

A sigh left your lips, hiking your bag over your shoulder, stretching as soon as the door closed. “Man…”

As far as you knew…it is raining, and you love the rain!

Today has been a bit of a hectic day, so you were glad that you would have the time to walk on your own, peacefully, all the way to the nearby convenience store.

“Oh?”

At the, unfortunately, familiar voice, you snapped your head up, hands tightening around the strap of the bag.

“What.”

Ew. Why is this infinity activating idiot here?! Did he never have class or something? You seriously doubt he even attends his classes—based off of what Geto told you.

Does he have nothing better to do than pick on you everyday?

“And where are you going?” Gojo’s voice rang out in the empty hallway, a smug lilt to his tone as he tilted his head at you.

While he worked hard to maintain the cool and unbothered front on the outside. He was mentally cheering on the inside.

Yay! Score for Gojo Satoru!

Man, fate really liked him. I mean—why else would he be bumping into you every other day like this?

An exasperated look rested on your features, eye twitching in irritation, “I don’t think…that’s any of your business, Gojo-senpai.” You emphasized on the honorific, trying to resist the urge to just walk away and leave.

You dislike him…but, you also have to maintain respect to an upperclassman.

At the honorific, though a common thing to hear from the first years, Gojo couldn’t help but feel his heart race—feeling as if a cupid’s arrow had pierced through it. Not the bad kind this time!

Gojo is willing to hang onto any string of hope, even if your current glare was snapping the thread.

“Aw, come on! I can’t be not suspicious if my cute underclassman is leaving class in the middle of the day with her bag.” A huff left his lips, the signature pout making its way onto his lips.

What a man child!

“Are you sick?”

Your eye twitched.

“Tired?”

Your lips settled into a frown.

“Are you injured? But you had no mission today!”

Your eyes narrowed into a glare.

“Or—!”

“Enough!” A cry leaves your lips as you glare up at him, eyebrows pinched together, “I’m going to the convenience store! There! Happy?”

Silence took over, filling the hallway as they remained standing—five feet apart—with you glaring up at him, hands clutching into the strap of your bag.

Huh—why was this idiot so silent?

For Gojo, it felt like everything else you said had went through one ear and left out the other, the tinted view of you through his glasses was almost intoxicating.

The way that you had to look up at him, okay maybe you were glaring but whatever, your eyes rounded with annoyance—it was a sight that he should’ve gotten used to.

But it still managed to make his heart lurch everytime you even looked at him.

“Can I come with?” An excited exclamation left his lips, eyes sparkling as he shot you a small pleading look, “Pleaseee!”

This was definitely his chance!

“No.” So blunt!

“Why nooot? ‘promise I’ll be good company!” A whine left his lips, “Besides, it’s raining!”

…

Hah? What was this idiot on about?

You shot him a weirded out look, “Okay? Thanks? I sure couldn’t guess from the rain pelting on the classroom window.”

Gah! Now he seemed like a total idiot!

“Wait! I mean—you don’t have an umbrella!” He flailed his hands around, a panicked look setting onto his features, “I have one! Who wants to walk in the rain without an umbrella, right?” A hurried laugh slipped from him.

Was the Gojo Satoru nervous? You tilted your head, raising an eyebrow.

Of course he was nervous! He has one chance to make this work!

“I’ll just borrow an umbrella from Haibar—“

Oh, hell no!

“No! No—he’s like—his umbrella is probably not as functional as mine!” He spouted anything he could, trying to salvage anything that could be saved.

You raised a brow.

Huh? What? That doesn’t even make sense! No way his idiocy could reach those levels.

“That doesn’t even make sense! Your cursed energy is messing with your head or something!” You huffed, “Over my dead body will you accompany me!”

“Woooo!”

The sound of an umbrella opening echoed infront of the entrance of Jujutsu Tech, lost in the noise of the rain hitting the concrete harshly.

“Do you even want anything from the convenience store? Or are you looking for any reason to be anywhere but class?” You scoffed, crossing your arms as you watched him open the umbrella.

“You can’t keep skipping, yknow.” He skipped class way too much.

A nervous look was thrown to the storm outside, biting down on your bottom lip as you looked back at the umbrella in his hands.

How was his umbrella going to cover the both of you if you maintained the five feet rule?

Oh.

And the infinity.

Despite willing yourself to not get your hopes up, you couldn’t help but wonder if he would actually be decent this time and would keep his infinity off. No way he went through all this trouble only to have you stand in the pouring rain, right?

Gojo threw you an offended look, “Eh?— I just want to accompany my underclassman to the convenience store, like a good upperclassman would!” Before his shoulders dropped, a faux look of exasperation crossing his features.

“And I guess I could get something or two for Suguru.”

This was it! His chance to impress you and charm you away!

“It is my duty, as your faithful upperclassman, to make sure you’re safe all the time!” A charming smile perked up on his glossy lips, placing his hand over his heart in a display of chivalry.

Yaaay! He was probably looking cool as hell right now! You must totally be falling in love with him right now!

“Keep me…safe while going to the…convenience store?”

On his precious underclassman’s face was a smile, one so soft and sweet that he was afraid he would melt if he kept staring at it for too long.

your eyes carried a glint of a sparkle in them—a contrast to the gloomy weather—and Gojo always thought he had the prettiest eyes but—

He was seriously starting to doubt that now.

“That’s the dumbest thing, ever. I’m a sorcerer too, no?” You let out a small chuckle, exchanging a small glance with his glasses covered eyes.

The carrier of six eyes could pass down the title of the prettiest eyes to someone else now.

And oh—that chuckle.

His hand tightened around the handle of the umbrella, feeling a small lump form in his throat.

You shook your head, flashing him a weird look at his sudden silence, “Whatever, Gojo-senpai. Let’s just go. I don’t want to stay around you longer than necessary.”

So mean!

Tipping the umbrella forward, Gojo nodded his head towards the school doors, “After you.~”

He was being such a gentleman! Oh—how your heart must be fluttering for him right now!

“Idiot.” You scoffed.

He was such an idiot. Did he think he was in a movie or something?

A sigh left your lips, shaking your head in reply, “Don’t get me wet.” You mumbled in a warning tone, noticing how he held the umbrella at arm’s length.

A suggestive smirk flashed on his features, “Oh?~”

Your cheeks heated up, “Creep!” You huffed, walking beside him as they exited the building, protected from the rain by the shade of the umbrella above both of you.

“What a shameful excuse for an upperclassman. Good thing we have Shoko-senpai and Geto-senpa—“ You paused, noting something.

Huh…no infinity. You are…walking under the same umbrella.

Sure, you weren’t exactly standing close like you should be under an umbrella, there was some distance, but his umbrella was big enough to cover both of you even while there was a small distance between you.

3 feet!

Hwaaah! They were three feet away and he didn’t activate his infinity! This was…a big achievement.

You cleared your throat, directing your gaze down as you focused on the splashes caused by your steps, pressing your lips into a straight line as you fought back the heat on your cheeks.

“Ahem…”

Confused by the sudden silence, Gojo turned his head to the side, tilting his head as he stared down at you, “Hey, yo—“

Ah?—

Gojo’s breath hitched, feeling his chest constricting as soon as he saw the absolutely bashful look on your face.

Gojo is familiar with looks of bashfulness, he’s a witness to these expressions each time a girl bounds up to him with red cheeks and a compliment. He’s not new to these looks—in fact, they’ve gotten quite old to see.

But…

Gojo thinks that a bashful look is absolutely precious on his little underclassman. It’s a sight that he doesn’t think he’ll ever tire of, no matter how much he encounters it.

“What’s with the radio silence, hm? Did I finally charm you? I knew it would happen!” He slipped in a quick remark in order to save face, trying to uphold his cool front.

“What? Cat got your tongue—oh wait, my bad. I forgot you’re like a little kitten, heh.”

It had always been a wish to see you flustered because of him, to see you blush and get embarrassed by him.

He’s starting to take back his words now.

He doesn’t think it will be good for his heart if he sees the sight of you being flustered, it isn’t healthy for it to be tugging at his heart this much.

His hand tightened around the handle of the umbrella, unconsciously tilting it a bit towards you in order to shield you from the rain completely.

His precious little underclassman.

You looked up, swallowing the lump in your throat, before turning your head towards him. This seems like a good time to finally crack the question.

“Gojo-senpai…” Oh, his heart stopped at the honorific, “Why do you always—“

Everything you said went through one ear and left out the other. Fuck. His heart was racing way too much, he couldn’t focus on anything but your bashful expression and that..

Honorfic.

It was dripping with honey whenever you uttered it out.

His eyes rounded behind his glasses, a subtle red flush spreading across his cheeks. His face felt like it was on fire, the heat unbearable. It felt like this is the first time he’s been flustered.

Like the tables have been turned.

“Gojo-senpai?” Fuck. You said it again.

“Are you listening to m— Ah!”

Before either of you knew it, you felt an invisible force repel, no—force you away from Gojo, almost as if a wall had suddenly formed between you.

It quite literally felt like, instead of only forming a barrier between you as usual, it pushed you away.

“Hey—!” A panicked call left Gojo’s lips, eyes widening.

You stumbled over your feet, due to not having time to process the sudden push, a small squeak leaving your lips as you slammed down onto the floor—right on your butt. Ouch.

“Fuck—“ A hurried curse slipped past Gojo’s lips as he looked down at you, “Hey, are you alright? What happened?”

A small hiss left your lips as you felt the cold rain water pelt harshly onto your head, soaking you from head to toe in no time. Your fingers twitched, feeling the hard concrete under them.

So much for not wanting to get wet.

This…despicable man!

You kept your head down, trying to will yourself to calm down, taking a deep breath.

“Hey.” Gojo lowered his voice, brows furrowing in concern at your sudden silence. He kneeled infront of you, keeping the umbrella over him—you were already wet anyways. “What’s up? Did you hurt yourself or something? Let me see.”

At his words, your head snapped up, eyes narrowed into a glare, face contorted into an angered expression, “What’s wrong with you?!” Seriously! Did he find any of this funny?

Huh? What did you mean what was wrong with him? Is it so bad to want to check up on his junior? Arrest him then!

He huffed, tilting his head with a confused hum, “What’s that supposed to mean? You’re the one who tripped. Don’t blame it on me!” He clicked his tongue, shaking his head disapprovingly, “You really ought to stop being so clumsy.”

He internally cooed. Poor underclassman, these strong winds probably pushed you! Worry not, he’ll protect you!

You sneered. “Do you not have a single serious bone in your body?”

Was this idiot being for real? This really was not a funny joke, this was you constantly getting humiliated whenever you were around him.

This time, you would not only be humiliated, but will also get a cold! Ahh! This was so frustrating!

“Shut up! I’m not laughing! Nobody is!” You could feel the tip of your nose freezing, hair sticking to your face as the water seeping into your uniform weighed you down, a shiver running down your spine.

Seriously, why were you always so against him helping you? Your hatred for him really ran a long way, huh?

“You always do this! How hard is it to not do it? Will you die if you hold back from doing it?” You huffed.

“What are you on about? I think the rain water is getting into your brain!” A pout pulled down the corners of his lips as he looked at you, “Why would I go through all the trouble of getting you to walk with me if I was going to deliberately push you or something?”

You really weren’t making sense to him! He was only being chivalrous and helping you. What did you mean by he always does this? Be a gentleman? Duh!

A frown rested on your lips, “I don’t know? You’re so complex! You always end up doing this. What about me is so intimidating?”

Nothing. Gojo thinks that nothing about you is intimidating except for your beauty, that’s the most intimidating thing about you.

Besides, how could he ever find you intimidating when, even though you were on the ground and he was kneeling infront of you, you still had to look up at him? You were so small.

“You? Intimidating? Please. A little kitten is more intimidating than you.” He chuckled, shaking his head, a teasing smile on his lips.

Gojo thinks that’s the most precious sight he would ever grow to see in his life. He finds himself feeling bad for everyone else that never had the opportunity to view such a cute sight like you in the rain—

but, he also finds himself feeling prideful that he’s the one to see it.

He’s such a lucky bastard, no?

“Nevermind! I don’t want to go to the convenience store! What’s the use, anyways?” You retaliated, a hand raising to your head to brush away the strands of hair sticking to your face—

Gojo’s heart skipped a beat.

“Don’t approach me ever again! I’ll tell everyone at school how despicable you really are! Hmph.”

“Wait wait—what?! No! I’m the totally cool and dashing upperclassman that loves all his underclassmen—“ You the most. “And all his underclassmen love him!” Except you. And Nanami.

Bless Haibara’s soul.

You shot him an exasperated look, “Your delusions are stronger than your cursed energy.” You mumbled under your breath, breath coming out in a small cloud of air—a testament to how cold you are.

Internally, Gojo felt horrible, seeing you this cold, fighting to not shiver and your face turning red, but it was also adorable.

“Huh?! That’s so mean! Where do you store all of that hatred, huh?” He pouted, feeling an arrow strike his heart at your direct comment.

“Shut up.” You grumbled, supporting your weight on your hands as you stood up, kneeling down and picking up your drenched bag, “I knew it was wrong to trust you.”

At your words, a lump formed in Gojo’s throat, hand tightening around the handle of that stupid umbrella. He looked up at you from his kneeling position, watching you stand up and adjust your bag over your shoulder.

You always said hurtful things to him, but it resonated a lot more with him this time. Even when you hurt him with your words, you still looked as majestic as ever.

Did you ever think about how alluring you are?

“Hmph. My bad for wanting to help you!” He huffed, standing up and closing the umbrella, tucking it under his arms as he folded them, “Where’s my ‘Oh thank you, Gojo-senpai! You’re the coolest upperclassman ever!’ ?”

Your eye twitched at how he pitched up his voice, a horrible impression of you, “Go die, Gojo-senpai!”

You glared at him, before turning your back to him, walking back to the school, “I don’t want to see your face today.”

What?!— No!

“Wait—! I’m sorry!” He hurriedly followed after. He doesn’t even know what he did!

“I don’t care!” You looked at him over your shoulder, the rain falling harshly on your head, “Don’t—!” In your haste of wanting to berate him once more, you stumbled over your feet—for the second time that day.

Can you really be blamed? The concrete was wet and slippery and your wet shoes and socks weren’t doing you any justice. Plus the soaked clothes!

Gojo’s eyes widened, a panicked curse escaping his lips before—with his fast reflexes, he was the strongest after all—he stepped towards you, acting on instinct.

He hastily slid his arm around your waist, wrapping around it as his palm rested on your clothed stomach, supporting your back against his sturdy frame.

“I got you.” His tone dropped in pitch, holding you close against his chest, “Don’t worry.”

…

A small gasp left your lips, shoulders tensing up as you looked down, gaze falling on his giant palm that rested on your stomach, nearly taking up the whole circumference, your back pressed against his clothed chest, able to feel his sturdy muscles through his wet uniform.

His wet uniform…the rain is falling on him, he’s touching you…his infinity isn’t on!

You swallowed, heart stuttering in your chest, “Huh—“ You looked up at him, eyes round with shock, cheeks heating up despite the cold weather. “You’re…”

This is the first time…they’ve touched—let alone stood this close to eachother.

“You—“ He let out a staggering breath, arm tightening around your midsection, “See? I helped you..”

Gojo’s heart positively felt like it was about to burst, not only at how soft you felt under his touch, but also at the way you looked up at him.

Hair wet, looking up at him with those round eyes, filled with wonder and awe, rain water dripping down your cheeks—and most of all, the rosy tint on your cheeks that strangely matched the color on his cheeks.

Fuck. You were so cute.

His heart picked up the pace, not knowing how to react to this new overwhelming sensation he felt being this close to you.

“…” You pressed your lips together, feeling your clothes weigh you down as your stomach fluttered, “Gojo—senpai, you—!”

And of course, his body acted on his instincts, on what he knew to do best when the adrenaline rushed in.

Infinity.

A yelp left your lips as you stumbled forward, barely having the time to balance yourself and regain your footing—thankfully you managed to do it this time, and didn’t end up on you already sore bum.

You were just getting thrown around today like a damn ball! This is getting ridiculous! Can’t you get a break?!

“Huh? Is this your way of thanking me?” His annoying whine returned, gone his flustered nature and replaced with a pouting one, “Do you not feel soooo safe and protected in my arms..?”

Gah!— He just couldn’t win! Never with you!

“You jerk! You just don’t know when to stop!” You stomped your foot angrily, the water pooled on the ground splashing at your little movement.

You wholly believe he uses his technique to have fun more than he uses it to kill curses. The universe gifted the wroooong person!

“You’re so childish and you lack any type of common sense. You just enjoy getting my hopes up, huh?!” Damn him and his stupid limitless—his infinity, his six eyes!

“What hopes?! You’re the one who flips a switch all the time whenever I do something nice.” He huffs, crossing his arms, a pout on his glossy lips as he looked away.

Was being mean to him your way of denying you’re flustered? Weird. “You don’t know how to say thank you!”

You ignored how downright attractive he looked with his hair sticking to his face, wet with water and not in its usual style, “That’s because you don’t deserve it. Go die!”

You huffed, straightening your posture, before turning your back to him, stomping back to the school. You didn’t even feel hungry anymore.

Was it from the fluttering you felt in your stomach? That was probably just your stomach turning in disgust at the sight of him!

A dismayed hum left Gojo’s lips, rolling his eyes begrudgingly as he watched you walk away, “Talk about a moody underclassman, gee…” He snatched his phone out of his pocket, dialing a number.

“Heh…she looked like a soaked kitty, I should’ve snapped a pic.”

He held his flip phone to his ear, staring at his umbrella on the floor.

Huh? Why wasn’t he getting wet?

Since when did he turn on his infinity? Must be instinct as a response to the rain. He shrugged.

“Ah! Haibara! My favorite guy!” He grinned, pressing the phone to his ear, “Would you do your cool upperclassman a favor? Do you happen to know what a little moody kitty likes to eat from the convenience store?”

“Huh?— Hey— What happened?”

“Your best friend happened, Geto—senpai.” A sigh left your lips.

“Silly Satoru…what ever am I going to do with him.” A fond sigh left his lips.

“Kill him—“

“Alright alright.” He let out a small chuckle, charming, “Go to your room and change. Don’t catch a cold, ‘kay?”

He was so charming. The perfect example of an upperclassman, not like that other bastard.

Geto chuckled.

Hah…

Gojo would freak out if you got a cold, anyways.

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yandere-sins · 3 months ago

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Monstober - Day 5: Naga/Lamia [Elemental Sacrifices Part 1/4]

I am fashionably late and since this story was supposed to come out on my birthday I switched the prompts since we all know Nagas are my roman empire, hehe >:3

Also this is part 1 of 4 of a little mini-series happening in this Monstober Challenge, and I will lovingly call it the Elemental Sacrifices. I know we already had a sacrifice before, but what if—hear me out—we have 4 more? Yes, I thought that was a good idea too, glad we agree :D

(They are not much related aside from the concept, but they are in the same universe, so maybe there's some potential for future ideas! :D)

Prompt: Day 6: Naga/Lamia | Scales // Wrapping around // Poisonous Warnings: Yandere, AFAB!Reader, Sexual Actions (Dub-Con, Use of Aphrodisiac, Drinking said Aphrodisiac and getting it stabbed into your arm, Deep Kissing, Accidentally cutting your own tongue, Fingering), Violence (Biting with fangs, Description of (meager) fighting, Cutting the enemy, Blood mention), Monsters + Descriptions of Monsters, Light self-degradation, Long Post

The tradition had always existed.

From the moment you were born, you were told about the sacrifices made to the four gods, which took place twice a century. The four tribes would unite in peace and unity for this month of reverence, choosing their sacrifices carefully and laying down their weapons to organize and strategize the ceremonies so that no god would feel aggrieved. It was a wonder that people that worshipped different things, lived by different means, and usually clashed like hot and cold, light and shadow, could work together meaningfully to pay their respects, assure that everyone would continue to be in the favor of the different gods that roamed the lands you lived on.

And yet, somehow, it had always worked out.

"There, almost done," your mother mumbled, curling your still-damp hair around her finger so it would frame your face. You clenched your fists in your lap as you sat in front of the mirror, unable to even look at yourself without retching. 20 years ago, when you were told the stories for the first time, no one had assumed you'd be the one to be sacrificed in the next ceremony. No one informed you that your days were numbered, your purpose to be nothing but monster fodder.

Because that's what they were, monsters, nothing more, nothing less.

A two-headed snake, an ancient tree, a tentacled beast, and a fire-spewing reptile with wings—those were the four monsters you and the other tribes worshipped with offerings and sacrifices. All your life, you practiced the mindful handling of the teachings, learning how to hunt, fight, and serve your god. But even so, just because you were born the child of the leader, you were going to be discarded by your own people, and your hatred was as fiery as the vulcanos that surrounded your homeland.

"I heard the water tribe sends their most wonderful singer this year, too."

It was a frail attempt at small talk, and you couldn't care less about how pleased your mother sounded as she told you about the other sacrifices. The other poor souls that probably wanted nothing more than to run away about now. You had hidden your tears very well with your head hung low, but you couldn't imagine the other sacrifices felt any less miserable as you did.

You had plans for the future, plans that involved leading this tribe and creating a family sometime. Maybe participate in a war with the other tribes and show off the prowess of the fire tribe leader's oldest child. It was in the nature of your people to be strong and powerful, as was the exceptional artistry of the water people.

"And the earthclan sends another one of their scholars. I don't understand why they think the nature gods would like all these people hiding with their noses in their books, but I'm sure they have their reason for choosing them. Oh, but the wind people are also sending their ruler's child, just like you!"

A tone of pride swung in her voice as she continued arranging vividly red flowers like a crown in your head, pulling at strands of your hair to wrap them into the stems so they'd hold. "And yet, you'll make the prettiest sacrifice of them all. You'll make us all so proud!"

Inside of you, a war broke loose. A war you knew you couldn't win as you knelt on the floor of your childhood home, the place you always thought safest in all of the lands, yet it was no longer the place you'd return to after this expedition. All your good deeds and all your achievements were for naught because when the announcement was sent out that the sacrifice was going to be held that year, it ended your life instantly.

A part of you knew it could happen. Although you never wished this fate on anyone, you had always hoped for a sibling, born or adopted into your family, that could take this responsibility from you ever since you learned of it. Other tribes voted. They chose by luck or by skill at the time of sacrifice. But not yours. Yours had traditions, which meant the leader's strongest family member would go to the gods and ask for their blessings. Get eaten in exchange for a promise of safety and prosperity that the monsters could easily break on a whim. Returning would mean the blessing failed, so that wasn't an option. If you couldn't appease them alive, you would do it with your death. The ultimate sacrifice.

"Now, you're perfect. Look at you, my pretty child."

Pushing her fingertips into the underside of your jaw, your mother forced you to look up into the mirrors. Tears tumbled from your eyes as your head snapped upwards to avoid the discomfort of her nagging touch, and you watched her expression fall in her reflection. Not from sorrow, mind you, but anger.

"This is your duty," she reminded you. "Now that you have grown up and proved your worth, you should feel honored to be chosen."

You bit your tongue, swallowing the disrespect you wanted to voice. You couldn't care less about the sacrifice, about gaining the ire of some monster that some old people had decided to worship. About your mother's opinion or that of anyone else!

Deep inside you, you were afraid. Fear, first and foremost, had always been your teacher. It showed you the boundaries of your abilities and pushed you to perform deeds beyond your capabilities in times of need. It wasn't something to be ashamed of or scolded for; it was natural and normal.

But right behind it was anger. Anger at this tradition, anger at your family, and anger at the monsters for demanding lives in exchange for peace. Gods they called themselves, but there was nothing godly about how they conducted their demands. They were cowards with a taste for human blood, and instead of fighting and being slain by those humans, they demanded sacrifices to satisfy their hunger.

And there was nothing you could do to save yourself.

If you rebelled, you'd be dragged out by your limbs and hair, even if that destroyed the work they put into prettying you up. Who needed to be pretty when they'd be eaten alive? Still, as a warrior at heart, you couldn't imagine a greater shame than to force your friends to bring you to that dreadful sacrificial space, even if they might think it was for the greater good. If you had to go out, you wanted to do so with your head held high, no matter how foolish that pride of yours was. It was better than to put your unfair death entirely into the hands of others.

If you were going to be a martyr, then you'd at least die fighting until your last breath.

---

"That's far enough," you announced, coming to a halt at the edge of the lush green forest you used to hunt in. Before you, vulcanic stone spread in dark hues as far as you could see. Ash filled the air, mixed with the taste of metal and fire. Nothing grew on the stone ground, it was as welcoming as a death threat. Veins of red broke through the stone, leading to pools of lava that was cooking beneath the stone surface, the air simmering from the heat that immediately greeted you, coating your skin in a sheen of sweat. Once you had found the duality of this place beautiful. Now you dreaded it, hands curled into fists as you took slow, steady breaths to calm yourself.

"I wish to face the gods myself."

"Go forth then. Make us proud," your father expressed, resting his hand on your shoulder. A simple squeeze was all you got, and much like your mother who hugged you before your departure, their gestures were too brief to be any comfort. You wondered how they could have possibly come to terms so quickly with losing their own child when you, the one to be sacrificed, were struggling with your fear and pride.

Every step on the hot floor was like a stab of a knife in your back. The hunting party that had accompanied you watched as you continued your journey towards the sacrificial space the ancestors had created, their gazes like whips that spurred you on. But they didn't linger. Since they didn't have to tie you down on the altar, they had no reason to watch the gruesome death of their own kind, knowing that either way, you weren't going to return. You knew the way back to your village like the inside of your pocket, years of roaming the jungles teaching you how to go home. But they'd kill you before you cursed the village with your failure to be sacrificed. Merciless, cold. You were no longer a part of them. You were a meager part of the tradition now.

However, the way to the altar was actually more of a challenge than going home. You had only been there once as a child, laying flowers down for your uncle, who had been the last sacrifice years before your birth. Your father may have called him your uncle, but it turned out he was an adopted orphan who ended up paying for his dedication to your family much later. Your father seemed unsympathetic towards him, but it dawned on you that he must have never been close to this brother of his, probably knowing the fate that awaited him.

You never knew your uncle, but back then, you had been proud of him, too.

That day was also the first time your father explained the traditions and the importance of keeping them up. How much honor it brought to your family and how many lives it saved to lose one person. You wondered why, after he taught you so many skills, worked so hard to make you a respected member of your tribe, and loved you like a father would, he could so easily send you to your death. But it slowly dawned on you what kind of person your father was. One that didn't truly cared for his "family", only for his own pride and gains. And you had been so easily fooled as to believe him all this time.

It took you much longer than you remembered, but eventually, you reached the grounds your ancestors had created for this spectacle. It was close to the foot of the volcano, an altar erected from the stone sprouting from the ground with nothing else present in this wasteland. The heat had increased substantially over time, every breath burning in your lungs, your eyes dry, and your feet chafed from walking over the smoldering stone for so long. Dread was no longer a constant companion as acceptance slowly crept into your mind. You had seen the bones of many humans on the way to this place. Apparently, not everyone had been so lucky to have made it this far, either the environment or the monster killing them before they reached the altar. Or maybe themselves, now that you thought about it.

The sight of the raised altar forced a shuddering breath out of your lungs, the stinging sensation barely enough to distract you from the blaring truth. You were going to die. One way or another, you would. Touching the side of your leg, you felt the leather holster beneath your dress. The dagger you sneaked would probably not be enough to kill the monster, if there ever was one. Still, if you could inflict some damage to it, perhaps your tribe would one day snap out of the trance that it was this immortal threat that your ancestors appeased by offering their own children to it. Maybe they'd see the wounds and realize they didn't have to cower in fear of it, and thus, maybe your sacrifice would not be in vain.

Brushing your hand over the warm stone, you felt an untypical cold shudder run down your spine, knowing it was meant to be your deathbed. You wondered how many before you had laid here, waiting for the monster to come. How many had prayed, hoped, and begged to be saved, and how many had fought and struggled like you were going to. Following in their footsteps now, you knew they did what they thought was their best. That was the greatest honor you could bestow on them.

You hoisted yourself up, struggling to climb on top of the massive stone slab, before you sat close to the edge and stretched out your legs, feeling the burned and chafed soles of your feet crack as they finally got some rest. Hissing, you were confronted with the pain, yet you only sighed, swiping your hands over your face to free you of the sweat that was desperately trying to cool you down. Even if you were used to the warmer temperature of your home, it was nothing against the volcanic heat, and you almost admired it for burning for so long, never bothered by anyone. The air was as heavy as your soul felt, trapped in your body and scared to the heavens.

Imagining the snake did very little to soothe your mind, but you still tried to prepare for the shock its sight undoubtedly would be. You imagined a snake as tall as a building, with two heads splitting apart at one end. Heads with sharp fangs and venom dripping out of their mouths, eyes that ate you up before their maw even got close to you. It would slither over the ground, nimble, avoiding the lava pools, but too large to hide behind the wasteland it reigned over. Bloodlust urging it on as it smelled the sweet fragrance of the flowers on your head, which were delighted to bloom in the warm temperatures. A green tail? Brown? Perhaps a little of both? Maybe its scales were dark red like all the blood it drank from the sacrifices.

"Look at that, they do sacrifice their own kind."

Deep in thought, the heat probably having gone to your head, you hadn't noticed the chafing sound that slithered closer from behind. Only when someone suddenly spoke did your mind alert you of the danger, and you jumped down from the altar, swiftly spinning around and bracing yourself. One hand hovered over your dagger beneath your dress, and the other arm stayed defensively in front of you. With the distance you managed to jump and the massive altar separating you from the monster, you were at a surprising advantage, and it felt good to have the upper hand.

Your eyes widened at the sight of two men standing behind the altar, one of them leaning down on the stone surface right next to where you had sat. In contrast, the other stood straight with his arms behind his back, but both watched you with burning intensity. Immediately, you noticed their similar appearances, the light grey hair falling from their heads, bound by braids, and still with countless strands falling over their exposed chests. Their eyes were like marbles, reflecting the different colors of the area in them, elongated pupils slightly vibrating as they fixated over and over on you. But what really put you off was their size. Their legs must have been easily as tall as the altar, and that was no size a normal human should have had.

"Mother never told us sacrifices were this cute."

The man leaning on the table rolled over on his side, his hair splaying all over the altar in waves. And yet, even while moving, his gaze never trailed off—but yours did. You let out a horrified gasp as the scaled tail of a snake buckled and arched to accommodate the man's movements, and with a surprised jolt, he reared upwards, exposing even more of the tail that started at his hips.

A moment of silence washed over you three, and you felt incredibly exposed and stared down by two pairs of eyes as if they were pinning you into place. Willing you to not move a muscle, to be eaten without putting up a fight. No one said anything before the startled man laughed out loudly, shaking his head and holding his belly before slapping his free hand attention-seekingly against his companion's arm.

"That scared me," he chuckled. "I've never heard that kind of sound before."

The other man let out a hum of agreement, nodding his head before looking back at you. You were at a clear disadvantage, unsure where to look first and who to focus on, as you were outnumbered by the two. The one that kept talking was smaller than the other, although this could have been the heat playing tricks on you. Both were muscular, but he was less refined than his almost-twin. You wagered you could take him on if there wasn't a scaley tail winding from his hips. That would be additional weight you couldn't topple, no matter how much you playfighted the other hunters and warriors of your tribe, which sometimes outdid you in terms of weight and size.

The quieter one, on the other hand, had the typical looks of a working man in the village: big arms coming from a strong back and toned muscles that the woman would drool over, while the other seemed fit and nimble. But your eyes unwillingly focused on the tail as the two scaled the altar, moving forward oddly in sync until it became clear why.

Their two strands of tails flowed together between them into one massive one.

It was mesmerizing, you had to admit, the scales an iridescent white. But whenever the tail moved, it took on the hues of the land, grey and red, only to return to their original color as it wound itself. You were awestruck and panicked at the same time, as the tail seemed to be neverending, wrapping around the altar, finding hold on the stony ground that even your feet struggled with. Fear filled you as you watched their slithering movements, the mistake in your thinking now glaringly clear: The monster existed, and it had come for you.

"Y-You're the monster!" you screamed, and the smaller one of the two scrunched up his nose, taking offense. The white scales swept over the altar, landing in the space between you and the stone with a heavy thud. His body was barely shaken by the impact, so perfectly in balance with itself despite their unnatural split into two different entities, and the seriousness of the situation rained down on you like their sharp gazes as you realized there would be no chance of you overpowering either of them.

Even with their connection, they spread out too far to reach both simultaneously. They could still move independently, even if their range was limited to what their body could give. But even without them rearing up on the tail, they were almost two heads taller than you were. They knew their body better than anyone, and you didn't doubt they had some tricks up their non-existing sleeves to best you.

Biting your lip, you finally slipped your hand beneath your dress, never letting the monster—monsters—out of your sight. To your surprise, you watched their gazes slip to where you raised the fabric, observing you with curious intention, their split tongues slipping out from their lips, tasting the air as they ogled at your exposed thigh.

Your hand curled around the grip of your dagger, and the moment you pulled it from its holster, the snakes lept forward. There was no time to be proud of yourself, but your reaction was immaculate. You jumped back just in time to avert the nimble one's grabby hands, even drawing blood as your blade slit open the skin between his thumb and pointer finger.

However, as fast as you dealt with one of the snakes, you couldn't recover quickly enough to avoid the second pair of hands. Much like you anticipated, their range was too extensive to fight both of them at once, and although you ducked beneath one hand of the stronger monster, his second hand latched on, right in your hair. You watched as the red petals of the flower crown loosened and swayed in the air like a sad veil of defeat.

Your head was yanked back, and you acted quickly, directing the knife towards the unprotected free shoulder, somewhere that would hurt. Somewhere that would leave a visible scar and show everyone that these monsters could be injured. But a bloody grip around your wrist prevented you from pushing the dagger into the creature's partially scaled bodies, your hopes crumbling into ash.

"You good?" the more muscular man asked, and the other clicked his tongue in annoyance while you flailed and struggled in their grip. Your free hand was useless as you couldn't even reach forward enough, and so were your legs as you stood on your tiptoes while they yanked you around.

The latter lifted the hand that was holding your wrist to his mouth, licking up the blood that spilled from the cut on his as he maintained eye contact. You bared your teeth in both pain and defiance, not showing any of the miserable fear and panic you felt inside. You didn't manage to do what you came here for, and you felt the power surging through their bodies just from their hands on you. The failure gnawed at your determination, the fight as good as lost.

"We're not monsters," he hissed, glowering at you, although it looked more like a pout. "But you sure are quick on your feet."

Their comments should not have caused your heart to swell with pride, but hearing it from the monster you swore to hurt in exchange for your life did feel good.

"Surely you wish you'd have gotten an easier meal, monster! But I won't go down until I have shown everyone that you can be wounded and defeated! That you will bleed if the people unite! There will be no more sacrifices once they've seen what I did to you!"

"We're not monsters!" they repeated in unison before exchanging a brief glance with each other.

"Well, I won't call you god and beg for your mercy!" you spat, and the lips of the snake with your hand in his grip curled into a grin.

"Are you sure about that?"

With his blood coating your hand, he raised it way over your head, causing you to gasp as your whole body strained to accommodate the movement. His hand slipped upwards, a few fingers holding you in place, while some snaked between your palm and the knife in your grasp, prying your hold from it inch by inch. You let out a soft whine as the leather grip was torn from you and watched the metal clatter to the ground.

But you didn't have the time to mourn the loss of your only weapon, not when your arm was bent backward. Immediately, your free hand shot up, trying to dig your nails into the fingers wrapped around your wrist still.

That was your greatest mistake. With his free hand, the quiet monster immediately reached for both of yours, wrapping them in his palm as quickly as their tail could around your body.

You were kept on your tiptoes as you felt the scales of said tail slither over your skin. Creeping beneath your soles and running up your ankles, squeezing the flesh of your shins firmly together before wrapping around each thigh individually. You kicked and squirmed, but their tail was almost as unrelenting as their hands, and you involuntarily winced as your wrists were squeezed together as if tied by a rope.

"It's true we are not the monster you're trying to defeat," the leaner one claimed again, licking his wound like an injured animal.

"That's our mother," his brother explained curtly, and your head whirled around to him, the questions etched into your face.

"Look at us; we're only half the snake she is."

With an exasperated huff, you looked back and forth between the two, reeling at the revelation. "That's not possible! You... you are a snake with two heads. It's exactly as it's told in our stories!"

"They're not wrong..."

"I mean, she is a literal snake with two heads. And she's gigantic. You should be glad she didn't find you first, or you'd be even less than a small snack for her."

"And our dad is human. Like you."

You must have looked rightfully befuddled as the two went back and forth on their explanation, but once they were done, you could only gulp, unsure what to make of the situation. "So... you're not the monster that demands sacrifices?"

"No."

"Not really."

"Then..." It was hard to form the words that zapped through your mind, your mouth suddenly feeling dry again as the adrenaline sifted from your blood flow. Nothing could rationalize this situation, and you were still strung up by their hands and tail. This almost felt too good to be true, so you had to take your chance as long as you could. "You'll let me go?"

A moment of silence hung over all three of your heads before the brothers slowly ripped their gazes off you to exchange sly smirks. You wobbled as their body—and by extension, yours—set into motion, slithering back to the altar until you were sat down, your back forced to rest on the stone like a lamb to slaughter, hands hanging over the edge above your head and legs still wrapped by their tail.

"Oh, you can't just leave," the lean one purred, coming up from below you and planting his clawed hands firmly on either side of your arms. "The nights get so cold, and the days are so lonely with our mom busy occupying our dad. She never lets us play with him or come back to our home. Won't you keep us company for a while longer? I'm sure you can teach us some things, and we can teach you."

The other settled on the opposite side, still holding your hands in place as he grunted in agreement. You felt the bile rise in your throat as one touch slipped below your line of sight, claw-like nails raking up your thigh and moving beneath your dress. Their intentions got more apparent as the fabric was gripped from above, too, slowly, sensually raising over your skin until the hip strap of your underwear was revealed.

In a last-ditch effort, you tried to struggle once more, legs tugging upwards and kicking at the ever-winding tail while your hands twisted in their hold, causing it to crush down onto your bones even more. That wasn't how you wanted to go down; it wasn't the fight to death you thought you'd have!

"End me, then. Get it over with," you yelled out, laying your head to the side and closing your eyes, the reality too hard to face. Sooner or later, you'd die anyway, and if this were the things you'd have to endure, you'd rather be dead. It wasn't the kind of sacrifice you wanted to be, one defiled and molested before you'd be killed, so you'd rather be dead than witness it.

"Hush now," someone murmured, and you felt a hand sweep underneath your chin, turning your head forward again before tugging it up and over the altar's edge. Your eyes snapped open as your instincts kicked in, but as you opened your mouth to scream, it was quickly covered by another.

A tongue slipped between your opened lips before you could close them, slashing around inside harshly and clogging your throat. There was too much to take, and you gulped down the wetness it brought, sloshing it everywhere to the point it dripped from your lips, running down your face that immediately heated up beneath the fluid. It tasted sweet and even when you wanted to stop, you couldn't, gulping down all that was given to you.

Your body began to relax while you felt a hand drive down the front of your torso, brushing an entire palm over your breast and getting stuck on your nipple. You jolted, a pang of electricity flying to your head and down your spine, your back arching as you couldn't understand what was going on anymore. You had never felt this sensitive before, and as the hand continued to roam from one side to the other, finding the budding nip beneath your dress and twisting it, you let out an unholy moan into the mouth of the monster, your own tongue lashing upwards until it got caught on a sharp fang. Despite not feeling it, you were pretty sure your tongue was ripped open, but even more of the sweet-tasting, addictive stuff dripped from the fang, gushing into your mouth. You gobbled it up, considering you had nothing to drink throughout your journey, and your mind was not getting enough of the taste.

"Considering how quickly you got hooked on our mating fluids, I'd not be surprised if you do end up calling us gods when we're done with you."

You barely heard the voice of the curious onlooker beyond your line of sight, your mind wholly crazed by the liquid that coated all of your mouth and senses. It took almost more work to extract the monster's tongue from your throat than it had putting it inside. Your head followed it upwards, unwilling to part while the drool kept dripping down onto your face.

As you were freed of the kiss, a shameful, miserable sigh of disappointment escaped you, and you barely regained the ability to reply, "Never," in response to what the snake had said. That caused both of them to chuckle, and the sound sent a core-clenching, spine-tingling warmth throughout your body. Your lips quivering as your mind begged for more of that deep rumble cursing through their bodies.

"We'll see about that," the monster from below mumbled as he raked his claws over your thigh. Immediately, you were jolting upwards in their hold, caught between pain and pleasure as he lightly scabbed your skin. It was a small revenge for his own wound, and the scratches burned deliciously as they welcomed the hot air all around you two. "You're already so wet for us."

"It's called sweat," you mewled defiantly, the sound of your voice not befitting your sarcasm. You clenched your legs together, but it was a vain effort with the tail still stuck above your knees, easily prying them open by driving upwards. The scales rubbing over your skin didn't help your misery at all, and you wanted to throw your head against a solid wall with how dizzy and needy you felt. It wasn't you on that altar, but a very distorted version of you, one that wanted to be fucked silly even though what you really wanted was a good fight.

The two laughed at your comment, and you moaned in annoyance at the electricity that sapped through you at the sound of their voices. Your head fell back over the edge, and you came face to face with the more muscular one of the brothers as he lowered himself to your eye level. His eyes raked over your face, then up to your exposed neck just waiting to be bit.

"You're so cute," he mumbled, split tongue darting out again, tasting the air. Your pussy clenched as you wished for that tongue back in your throat or, even better, caressing your quivering folds below that were begging for something to fill their loneliness. The experience was new to you, as you had never wanted intimacy like this with anyone before. You had been so focused on your goals and diligently upholding your parents' rules and traditions that you never craved anyone, but especially not these two beasts.

"I'm not cute," you mewled, closing your eyes and biting your lips as you felt the sharp claws hover above your abdomen, gently stroking the skin below your navel from side to side, your core clenching even harder with pure, undiluted desire. But when the fingers slipped beneath the rim of your underwear, you moaned as you expected them to dip into the wet mess that lay just beneath, the expectation almost enough to send you over the edge.

"Oh, yeah?" the snake-man grinned, and you felt one finger press into your slit, your folds welcoming it warmly and with a shudder going through your body. You quaked in pleasure, eyes blown wide open, and the two fangs of the monster were all more prevalent as his lips split into a toothy smile. "So cute," he doubled down, pulling your arms taut until your body stretched to the last of its capabilities.

With his lips gently brushing against your forearm, you were wholly unprepared for the sharp pain as he dug his fangs deep into your skin. But the shriek quickly turned into a moan, your hips grinding against the finger probing at your entrance as more of the aphrodisiac went straight into your bloodstream. You watched the dark fluid drip off your arm, causing even more heat to spread where it flowed, and you were mercilessly whining as you couldn't move your hips nearly enough to satisfy your needs.

"Please," you snapped upwards, staring at the creature settled on top of the altar next to you, leisurely rubbing his hand along your pussy.

"There goes the begging," he reminded you, and you bit your lip to the point of hurting yourself.

Fuck, that wasn't what you wanted to say. It wasn't how you wanted to die, you never intended to let it get this far. Pathetic, pathetic, absolutely pathetic. You were a fucking warrior, you fought threats and hunted prey, you were not going to surrender to them—

"Fuck!" you gasped out loud this time as one digit slipped inside you. You felt it hook inside your pussy, slowly dragging out despite being clung to firmly by your insides. All the faster did he push it inside again, every joint that buried inside you made you arch your back and rejoice. You nearly avoided being scratched open inside, purely by how slick your pussy and his hand were by now, more fluids gushing out as he pulled his finger from you again and again.

Simultaneously, another digit curled down, fondling the heated folds until it pressed down on your clit, forcing a mewl from you. Fangs tore out of your skin, but you barely noticed as the two fingers united, taking up more space inside of you and scissoring your walls apart until you felt your pussy gaping and drooling obscenely.

"I'll not... submit," you stammered between bated breaths. "I'll not... be your plaything."

"And we wouldn't want it any other way," they chimed in unison, exchanging a satisfied glance before grinning.

"Mom always said to look out for the feisty ones."

"We just didn't think you'd come to meet us so soon."

"Or that you'd be this fun to play with."

Your whole body shuddered as both fingers were pulled out of your terribly needy hole. Your breath was almost non-existent, the lack of air only stimulating you more as you heard the sloppy sounds of your wet pussy letting go of the monster's fingers. A hand slipped beneath your head, helping you to hold it up as you watched the leaner brother lifting his pointer and middle finger to his face, split tongue lapping out to taste your slick pulling strings in the gaps while maintaining eye contact with you all throughout it.

"They're perfect," he purred as he looked up, stretching his arm towards his brother, who leaned forward to have his taste of you from his brother's fingers.

"Damn, that's sweet," he commented too on your fluids, licking them from his lips as he looked down at you in a mix of surprise and awe.

"And so pretty, too."

You felt their eyes in the same way their claws had raked over your body. Hungrily, with the intention to harm you. And yet, your hole kept gaping, needing more stimulation, wanting more. You were the pitiful prey you kept denying you were, but it seemed that in their eyes, you were so much more than that.

"Our little fighter," the one at your side murmured, stretching upwards to hover beside your face.

"Are you not even finishing what you started?" you spit, your venom not nearly as effective when your voice sounded as if you were drugged and disgruntled.

"Oh, I will, little fighter. We're going to make sure you can take us before spreading you on our cocks and make you cry out in pleasure until you call us "god". But before that, you have to be good and let us take you to our nest. Bonding will take so much time, and you are much too vulnerable out here."

"Fuck you," you grunted, trying to elbow him, but your arm barely moved.

"Keep it up," he grinned. "Wouldn't want you to give up too easily. Breaking you in is part of the fun."

"You're a fucking monster after all."

The snakes hummed thoughtfully as you were finally pulled off the table. Instead of being dragged by your arms or wrapped in their tail, however, you were slung over the bigger brother's shoulder, feeling his hand immediately settle beneath your asscheek, not so subtly poking at your pussy with his claw.

"Let me go!" you demanded weakly, your sore hands pounding pitifully into his shoulder.

"And miss out on all this fun? I don't think so," the leaner brother answered.

"Mother told us you can't go back anyway," the one carrying you added, throwing salt into the wound. They were right, but that didn't mean you'd go down so easily, even if your legs were still quivering and your head throbbing with need. "They'll kill you on sight, won't they? And then they'll return you to the altar so we can eat you."

A hand clasped around your jaw, claws digging into your cheeks as your head was lifted to face the leaner brother. "You know we prefer a different taste," he grinned, and you felt your anger rise again together with the shame of his implication. Collecting your saliva and some of the residues of the aphrodisiac, you spit them into his face, not caring whatsoever what that meant for you.

The snake-man scrunched up his face, quickly wiping it away. "Save your drool," he snarled, and you grinned victoriously despite the clasp he held your face in.

But as if on cue, a large palm flattened against your ass, and you jolted forward on the shoulder, eyes blown wide open as you gasped. You couldn't believe it as the wave of pleasure finally crashed into your rockfest resolution, your toes curling upwards and your eyes rolled back, your orgasm hitting you harder than even the slap had.

"Oh, god," you whispered breathlessly while riding the high of pleasure and shame as you felt your juices leaking even through your panties, dripping and running down the body of the other stronger brother.

"Seems like you finally get it, sacrifice," the guy in front of you noted, brushing his thumb over your lips, which opened automatically to his beckoning.

"Let's go, brother," he urged. "Seems our little fighter needs just a bit more convincing as to why they'll love being ours. I can't wait to make their belly swell with our clutch, just like Mother has always told us."

"We're lucky we found a mate so quickly," the other agreed, and you let out a defeated huff, no more words to counter them with coming to your dazed thoughts.

Their tail set into motion, scales slithering over stone, while your mind drifted off, the aphrodisiac having too much of a hold on your conscience for you to be rid of it quickly. You were going to be taken by the monsters, and if you thought you were helpless before, your body now barely felt like it belonged to you. It was as if you weren't its master anymore, but that drug and those snakes were. You could only shiver, even though the air was getting hotter the closer you three got to the volcano, wondering if you at least fulfilled your duty as a sacrifice.

And when that duty would finally end.

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reiding-writing · 10 months ago

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Hey can i ask for cold!Reader where someone calls her heartless and stuff like that, cuz u know, she has that reputation, and then Spencer finds her crying and comforts her?? cuz she has feelings but it is hard to show them

BREAKING THE ICE [ONESHOT]

/ˈbɹeɪkɪŋ ðiː ɑ́js/

Sometimes people just cry, there doesn’t really have to be a reason. But when you have a reputation for being cold and uncaring, being emotionally vulnerable with other people isn’t very easy. Spencer doesn’t care though, he’ll get through to you either way.

spencer x cold!reader | hurt/comfort | 2.3k I series masterlist!!

WARNINGS: fem!reader, depictions of a panic attack, reader is a lil mean to spencer but it kinda comes with the territory

a/n: cold!reader is my roman empire i love writing emotionally complex characters man (i also feel the need to let everyone know that this fic was originally called ‘micheal in the bathroom’)

main masterlist!! ⋆｡°✩ part two!!

You hated crying.

You hated the way it made you look, with tears staining your cheeks and a blotchy complexion from your fluctuating temperature, the way your shoulders trembled like a leaf in the wind.

You hated the way it made you feel, your throat tight and constricting your airflow, your head pounding with an impending headache from your irregular breathing and the constant dread at the idea of somebody finding you in the state you were in.

The worst part was you didn’t even have a valid reason to be crying. You hadn’t gone through a life-altering trauma, you hadn’t lost anyone, hell you hadn’t even had a mild inconvenience today; But here you were, crying in the unisex toilets during your lunch break, because apparently the gods had decided your life wasn’t miserable enough already.

Your hands gripped the edge of the sink like it was your only anchor to the physical world, your hands tensing so hard that your knuckles were turning white and the tips of your fingers were beginning to ache.

Your laboured breathing was echoing through the stalls, reminding you of just how pathetic you sounded and only amplifying that sinking feeling in your chest that decided to invade your mind for no apparent reason and rip your brain to pieces until the only thing you could think of was how horrible you felt.

You weren’t just crying anymore. It was like your body was trying to tear itself up from the inside out. And there was no reason for any of it.

Then there was a soft knock on the door, almost quiet enough that you couldn’t hear it over the sounds of your own anguish.

It was to be expected at some point you suppose, you’d locked the outside door instead of just locking yourself in one of the stalls, providing you with complete privacy for your breakdown but also inconveniencing the rest of the office by taking up twelve stalls instead of just one.

Still, you weren’t ready to unlock the door yet. There was no way in hell you were going to let one of your coworkers walk in and see you bent over one of the sinks like the pathetic failure you felt.

You had a reputation to uphold. They could find another bathroom to piss in.

You weren’t ‘heartless’ by any means, but you were strong, and that is what your coworkers needed to see, not this.

You didn’t mind being called an ‘ice queen’ by Morgan every morning if it meant that they didn’t see you like this. You didn’t mind keeping a barrier up between you and the rest of your team if it meant that you didn’t break down in front of them. But god sometimes you wished they’d see you as more than a wall of stone with no emotional capacity so that you could actually have someone to lean on in moments like this one.

But you suppose that half of it is your fault. They wouldn’t see you as some emotionally removed robot if you weren’t presenting yourself like that in the first place.

There’s another knock at the door, joined by a voice this time, Spencer’s voice, and it was calling your last name.

He was literally the last person you wanted to see.

Of all the people on the team, Spencer had been the one to slowly chip away at the obsidian shield you protected yourself with, and with no force whatsoever. He’d settled for taking place besides you and letting you acclimate to him in your own time. He never pried or pushed, he respected your boundaries and your wish to not get emotionally attached, and he never judged you for how you presented yourself to the world.

He was the best type of person that you could surround yourself with, and that made him the worst type of person for you to see right now.

You’re trying to compose yourself, not make your emotional rampage worse at the hands of someone so caring that your walls may as well be made of glass and have them shattered the second his breath hits their surface.

The knocking doesn’t stop whilst you mentally curse Spencer’s kindness in your head, nor does his voice, but he’s transitioned from calling your last name to calling your first. It’s not helping.

“I’m fine Reid,” You strain your voice so it doesn’t crack under the weight of your emotions, closing your eyes so you don’t have to face your reflection in the mirror. “Just give me a few minutes.”

“Are you sure?” You can hear the concern lacing his voice even through the way it’s muffled by the two inches of wood between you. “The average time taken by women when going to the bathroom is 4 minutes and 39 seconds, you’ve been in there for over 12 now,”

Curse Spencer Reid and his inherent ability to make everything logical.

“I’m fine.” Even in a state of absolute distress you still manage to push absolutely everyone away.

“I really don’t want to pry but you don’t sound fine,”

“Reid, leave it.” You know he’s not going to. He might stop trying to verbally get you to admit your feelings, but you know for a fact that when you open that door he is going to be waiting for you on the other side.

You’d given Spencer a bit too much leeway in not enduring the wrath of your psychological defences, and now he’s slowly becoming impervious to your dismissals.

He’s not as intimidated by you as he was four years ago, and it is not doing wonders for your attempts at keeping people at an arms-length.

You’re going to have to face him eventually.

You take in a deep breath as you resign yourself to your fate, inhaling until you can feel the pressure of your lungs against your diaphragm and letting it out slowly through your mouth, forcing your heart rate to slow to an acceptable level as you swipe your index fingers under your eyes to rid your cheeks of the mascara stains painting your face.

You glare at yourself in the mirror as you try to make yourself look presentable again, wetting your hands and pressing them to your cheeks to cool down your face and fixing the wrinkles in your shirt from having been bent over in an awkward position for so long.

You’d say it worked to an extent, and the natural narrowing of your eyes in your resting expression helped to hide the pink irritation from you rubbing them constantly over the last ten minutes, but you worked with profilers, so you’re sure they’d be able to see right through you.

Alas, you’d made your bed by crying in the office bathroom in the first place, now you had to lie in it.

The clicking of the lock as you open the door stirs Spencer’s attention, and he stops leaning against the wall with a furrowed expression to stand straight in front of it like a pet waiting for their owner to come home.

You’re fairly confident in the stability of your emotional state as you open the door to enter back into the office, and that confidence is immediately ripped away the second you meet Spencer’s eyes.

The look on his face is nothing less than absolute concern for you, and it causes the wafer of your remaining emotional shield to disintegrate as soon as those hazel eyes lock onto yours.

You swallow back a lump that rises in your throat at his gaze, averting your eyes from him as you feel them prick with tears again and turning your body back in the direction of the bathroom you’d emerged from, fully intent on locking yourself back in there for as long as it takes for you to get yourself under control.

You cannot believe you just allowed Spencer to see you like that.

“Hey-” Spencer catches the door with his foot as you try to close it on him, most definitely causing him pain in the process from how quickly you tried to slam it behind you. But his expression didn’t show that, it continued to show that soft, sweet kindness that was entirely concerned for your well being. “You’re not fine…”

“No shit Sherlock-” You take in a sharp breath through your nose as you speak, your tone harsh and icy as you turn your head over your shoulder towards him. He knew it was an emotional defence mechanism, but it still stung just a little.

Spencer sighs softly as he follows into the bathroom after you, locking the door after him like you had done earlier to provide you with at least a bit of the privacy you desired. He wasn’t exactly sure to to approach the conversation about what you were feeling with you, afraid that if he misstepped he’d only push you further into your emotional pit of solitude.

“Did you know that a person’s emotional state is best presented in what they wear?” Resorting to statistics was always the first choice. “Studies have shown that the type and material that a person’s clothes are, as well as they way they’re worn, correlate with the type of emotions they are feeling,”

You’re wearing a shirt and slacks, which most would agree was fairly typical office attire, he was wearing almost exactly the same. But you’d undone an extra button on your collar today, presumably to try and help alleviate the restricting feeling against your throat, and your slacks were wide-legged instead of straight-legged like usual which was likely again to try and help with the constriction you were experiencing.

If he had to wager a guess, he’d say you woke up on the brink of an emotional breakdown today, which meant that it wasn’t caused by something that had happened during the day. That usually left the only explanation as something much deeper at play than just some off-hand experience.

“And let my guess, my clothes are displaying complete patheticness?” You gesture your hands exaggeratedly as you turn around to face him once more, the tears rolling down your cheeks illuminated underneath the overhead lighting. “Because that’s how I feel right now,”

“Being upset doesn’t make you pathetic at all-” Spencer sounds genuinely offended at the idea of you finding yourself pathetic for feeling regular human emotions. There was nothing wrong with crying or being emotionally overwhelmed. “It’s a beneficial part of human nature,”

“It doesn’t feel very ‘beneficial’ to me,” You lean your lower back against the line of sinks as you continue to blow of his attempts at opening an emotionally vulnerable conversation with you, but you also weren’t completely shutting him down either.

Spencer takes a step closer, his eyes still filled with genuine concern. "I know it might not feel like it now, but allowing yourself to feel and express these emotions is healthy. It's okay to not be okay sometimes."

You let out a shaky sigh, feeling a bit of the tension ease out of your shoulders at his words. Maybe he was right. Maybe it was time to stop pretending everything was fine when it wasn't. "I just... hate feeling like this," you admit quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Spencer nods in understanding, his expression softening even more. "I get it, I really do. But you don't have to hide what you’re feeling because you’re trying to protect yourself. I'm here for you, whatever you need."

His words hit you harder than you expected, and for a moment you feel like your mind is just going to give in and forget everything that had become a staple of your character so that you could feel that emotional connection that you knew was going to be good for your mental health.

But if wasn’t exactly that easy.

You offer him a small, tentative smile, grateful for his unwavering support even though you weren’t going to actually take it. Not entirely anyway. "I appreciate that,"

He returns your smile with one of his own, small and awkward and the perfect encapsulation of Spencer’s character. “Of course,”

He knew you weren’t just going to magically change your personality and start emotionally leaning on him, but he was glad that you were acknowledging his efforts in at least trying to be a pillar of support for you.

You’d stopped crying now, so that was a good sign in itself that the conversation had benefited you in some way or other, and for now, that was enough.

You could think about the complications later.

part two!!

#cold!reader ᝰ.ᐟ #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst #mgg #asks 🫶

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sweetestcaptainhughes · 3 months ago

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Can I request #1 from your drabbles challenge, with Jack Hughes please?

Drabble Challenge Drabble Masterlist

“The skirt is supposed to be this short.”

Tonight you were going out with some of your coworkers for a happy hour but it always turned into a crazy night. Jack didn’t have a game or anything to do today so he decided to lay on the bed while you got ready. Walking out of your master bathroom, your makeup and hair done. Walking over to the outfit you laid out earlier for tonight. A simple black skater skirt and a lacy navy bralette. Jack was busy scrolling through Instagram on his phone he didn’t notice you adjusting your bralette in the mirror, or you putting on some gold jewelry. Jack always said gold was your color, he said it made you look hot espically the thick gold chain he got you for your birthday a few months ago to replace the cheap one from target he broke by pulling too hard one night.

“Okay how do I look?” you asked, casually doing a little twirl to show your boyfriend.

“Fuck your beautiful” he whispered, you’re not even sure if you were meant to hear it. Either way his words still left a pink blush on your cheeks.

“T’ank you” you mumbled shyly. Before you could ask him what shoes he thought looked better with your outfit. He let his eyes rank your body again and then again as if it was a double take to make sure his eyes weren’t lying to him.

“Baby, your skirt suppose to be that high up.”

“Yeah, the skirt is suppose to be this short.” You answer, Jack starts slowly approaching you and suddenly you’re looking at yourself in the mirror debating your outfit for tonight. “Why does it not look good?” Your voice skeptical as if you no longer were confident. Suddenly Jacks behind you now, his hands resting on your exposed upper thighs, barely pushing the skirt up.

“No you look fucking beautiful baby. But I’m not letting you leave in that.”

“Jack” you sigh.

“Not unless you let me come with you cause you know I don’t trust others.” He argues.

All you do is look at him through the mirror. Both of you are in a silent argument but neither of you are speaking just your eyes are. You are begging for him to trust you and he telling you no fucking way.

“Baby you know I’d choose the bear for our hypothetical daughter to be in the woods with not a man. What makes you think I’d let you be in a bar, looking this fucking hot, with a skirt that barely covers your ass with drunk men? Fuck no” he reasons but your mind is lost on the fact he even knows about that trend from months ago on TikTok.

“Jacky how do you know about that trend?” Not even bothering addressing the skirt or going out anymore. Your mind now stuck on how your precious boyfriend who didn’t wanna watch Barbie or Oppenheimer when they came out this summer. Or the fact he didn’t know the “how often do you think about the Roman Empire?” trend know about the “who would you feel safer in the woods with?”

“I have social media Y/N I just play dumb because it’s more interesting and the interns are less likely to bother me if I don’t give them good content.” He admits. “But my point still stands you are either changing or im coming with you.”

“Fine. I’ll change.” You sigh sulking back to your closet.

#jack hughes one shot #jack hughes angst #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes fanfiction #jack hughes fanfic #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes fluff #jack hughes fic #jack hughes x y/n #jack hughes x you #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #schwritingsjh86 #drabble challenge

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star-trek-dumb-comics · 6 months ago

Text

I guess I forgot to post this but - last year I made a bunch of star trek OCs ! They're a group of friends who all serve abord the USS T'Sera during the late TNG era. I just really wanted to design a friend group made up of the four original federation founding members lol

They're on my ArtFight if anyone here participates

Here's some info about them :

Khov is a xenobiologist. Quite the Andorian history nerd, he won't shut up about the Ch'eraotherh Dynasty (his Roman Empire).

His naturally emotional disposition as an Andorian especially expresses itself when he's nervous or under some pressure, making him seem jumpy or easily panicked. But he's as capable of doing his job and performing under pressure as any other Starfleet officer - externalizing his emotions is just the way he regulates and keeps a cool head.

He's usually well spoken and witty (you need to when you're friends with Rog and Ketis) but when it comes to romantic encounters he easily gets flustered. He has a (not-so) secret crush on the chief of security of the T'Sera, which he is very embarrassed about

Nadia is a relief helmsman. She's very eager and optimistic, and motivated to move up in the ranks. She loves piloting and daydreams about saving the whole ship with her prowess at the helm (and maybe even have a maneuver named after her, why not !)

She's a space native, her parents worked on a deep-space cargo freighter.

She often appears chill and the "reasonable middle ground" in her friend's heated debates (which they call "human mediator syndrome").

She also loves discussing couple gossip and gives a lot of romantic advice despite never having been in a romantic relationship herself (she's probably aroace but hasn't really thought about it)

Rog is a security officer. He first met Ketis on his arrival day during his medical checkup - during which he got into one of the most fun arguments in his life, and they've been best friends since then.

He values honesty and despises bootlickers and people pleasers. In that he counts those who try to start an argument with him as a pleasing tactic - he wants his debates to be genuine, thank you very much !

He's also a bit of an order and cleanliness freak.

His job at security made him very observant and perceptive . He's also capable of functioning on very little sleep.

Ketis a medical technician. He genuinely enjoys his friend group of varied emotional species, he finds it stimulating and an intellectual challenge (as well as a test of his emotional repression). He also finds their reasoning and points of view interesting and is always taking them into consideration. All this makes him pretty critical of some vulcans' arrogance and sense of superiority over other species, which he considers an to be an emotional response.

He particularly likes debating and can hold a friendly argument tirelessly, which is always good when being friends with a Tellarite.

He suffers from motion/space sickness, which is rare for a vulcan - and especially for a vulcan in starfleet. He sort of became infamous for it on the ship after an incident where he threw up on the Captain (who he was taking care of in sickbay during a red alert). Good thing he's purely logical because that'd be really embarrassing !

#star trek #non comic art #ocs #original characters #tng #andorian #vulcan #tellarite #starfleet #oc #original character #star trek fanart

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alwaysahiccupandastrid · 1 month ago

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Gladiator II - Thoughts (SPOILERS)

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

I cannot stress this enough:

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

Once again

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

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

Anyway, without further ado:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

NOT LUCIUS TAKING A BITE OUT OF THE BABOON 🤯

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Some final summary thoughts:

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

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

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

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

GIVE CHERRY THE MONKEY A FUCKING OSCAR

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

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

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

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

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

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

Overall, my opinion of the film?

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

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gaywineauntsstuff · 6 days ago

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Dick Grayson is my favorite lil guy

And my favorite way of consuming content of my favorite lil guy is the core 5 titans

There is also about 5 billion pieces of media where these 5 interact and some of it sucks so here I am scrapbooking canon together with glue and scissors so I can talk about how I view Dicks relationship with the other OG titans and how different these relationships are from one another while all still being boiled down to found family love

Dick & Donna: Listen. To. Me. These two aren't besties, or fav teammates or siblings. These two are the sun and earth revolving around each other except they each think the other one is the Sun. Dick Grayson and Donna Troy are the blueprint for platonic soulmates. Dick and Donna make everyone around them believe in ancient story by plato "humans once had 4 arms and legs and 2 faces and the God Zeus split them in half for their hubris and now they are destined to roam the earth forever looking for their other half". If y'all think Dick wasn't doing well after Jason died?? Donna Troys death fundamentally changed who Dick Grayson was and how he was written in teams for years. Donna Troy and Dick Grayson absolutely have debated getting platonically married (not canon but it is in my heart) and the only reason they haven't is BC if they do, Donna will kidnap Dick and never let him within 1000 feet of Bruce Wayne and Gotham.

Dick & Roy: remember how I said Dick was fucked up post Troias death in the comics? yeah? Roy Harper is the only reason he made it out of that period of his life alive. These two are like fire and Gasoline, they're quick and angry and always inexplicably near each other. They are VICIOUS with one another in a way they almost never are with anyone else. They try so hard to ruin their relationship bc implicitly they know (unless its the new 52 which I ignore for my own mental wellbeing-hey I did say this was a scrap book of canons) they'll always be there for each other. Roy Harper never misses, Dick Grayson cannot fall and yet Dick is there to hold Roy when his hand trembles and Roy is there to catch Dick when he loses his Grip.

Dick Grayson is the first person Roy calls to get Lian

Roy Harper is the designated keep Dick Grayson alive even if he has to tie the bastard up-

Dick (and wally depending on the run) help Roy with his addiction)

these two are each others roman empires

Dick & Wally: to cut back on the pretentious seriousness of this post. Every time these two are drawn together be it 80s road trips or being the most likeable part of tom Taylors run. Wally west always reads like he's about to invite Dick to swing with him and his wife. If you see them as platonic, romantic (right person wrong time is my favourite Fanon flavour but canonically I like em besties) or somewhere in between Wally West is always Dick Graysons best friend. There is something so wholesome about the fact that Wally canonically stalks checks up on Dick Grayson as much as he does his wife and twins and Dick who is a bat, notorious for expressing their love via breaking into your house and doing your casework for you. Is getting stalked checked up on by someone who loves him without it triggering his "see obviously you're not good enough they're literally babysitting you" paranoia. its like meeting your partners love language needs but its for deeply messed up individuals. They canonically call themselves best friends, and while Dick will always love Roy he always Likes being around Wally (as well as love him but that's a given)

(sidetone are you even besties if people don't think you're dating when they meet you?)

Dick & Garth: The amount of trust, love and respect that tempest holds for Nightwing melts my damn heart (but then again everything garth does melts my damn heart, baby Garth you will always be famous) they are such an underrated pairing and I love the fact that no matter the media, whether they're rivals like in the cartoons or Garth deferring to Dick as leader to the point where he disobeys aquaman (rebirth) Bc yeah THATS how much my purple eyed perfect boy trusts wing. There is always this really sweet understanding that Garth can go to Dick for advice (he asks for Donna advice in titans and advice on his relationship with Dolphin in the comics). And him and Dicks reunion post RIC? I love them sm. Its just... There was also a period of time where Garth was the only titan with sense and tbh sometimes its refreshing to see that when the rest of them (except donna she was dead at the time we never say a bad word about donna in this household) are being fucking insane

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myownwholewildworld · 23 days ago

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veni, vidi, victus sum (a "per aspera ad astra" drabble)

main masterlist | series masterlist | read on ao3 pairing: marcus acacius x emperor's daughter!reader. summary: marcus returns from war with the worst news possible. a/n: considering that i started this story here by posting the end first... may i interest you in how it all started? c: i appreciate comments and reblogs, they make me happy knowing that people enjoy my writing <3 take care x warnings: 18+, mdni. pure angst because i don't know any better. death of a secondary character. w/c: 2.3k

July, 106 AD

Marcus’ right hand shook uncontrollably. So much so, he had to wrap his left around the opposite wrist and squeeze as hard as he could, hoping to stop the tremor that suddenly took hold of his muscles and soul.

He hadn't even had time to wash off the mud and sweat. Nor to process everything that had happened in the last few days. Once his mission was done and dusted, only then and in the privacy of his own company, would he give himself permission to break down. He would be a terrible General if he let himself be dominated by emotion at such important moment for the Empire.

Returning from Dacia after an intense campaign, Marcus had been at the head of the Roman column that would carry out the offensive towards the east of the Dacian capital, Sarmizegetusa, while General Atticus, his inseparable friend to whom he would have blindly entrusted his life, and son-in-law to Emperor Traianus, led the battle towards the center of the town.

That week the Empire had annexed a new region that would bring great wealth. But Marcus, personally, had lost much more than what he truly had gained. Lady Justice had spoken, letting the balance tip completely in favour of collective Roman rule and not his personal one.

Marcus walked between the marble columns of a secluded hallway in the Domus Flavia, the public area of the Imperial Palace on Palatine Hill, as if he was an umbra. He put one foot in front of the other automatically, his mind on a land more than six hundred Roman miles away.

The siege of the Dacian capital to the east had been especially bloody. The enemy had presented a good strategy; the thread of many souls being skewed by the Parcae on both fronts. Among them, that of his own son, Augustus. At eighteen years old, he had been a great military promise, the best candidate to one day replace his father.

If Marcus closed his eyes, he could still remember Augustus’ warm, battered body in his arms. His empty orbs, observing the infinite, reflected the horror of his last seconds in this world. A thick and rudimentary pilum protruding from his chest was a macabre picture Marcus would have trouble forgetting. Its tip so sharp, it had pierced through the segmented lorica with ease, embedding itself in his heart, blood still gushing out.

By the time Marcus’ knees hit the ground by Augustus’ side, Pluto had already claimed his son to join His ranks. The bloodshed had continued to unfold around him, a maddening dance of swords, as if the world had not just stopped —as if Marcus had not just lost the only reason that kept him standing.

His reality had just sunk into the blackest misery and the rest of humanity was there, present yet impassive, blind to his pain.

But there had been no time to grieve — not there, during the darkest hour.

An enemy sword hovered over him, and he had to react.

When the battle died down and his soldiers celebrated the victory, Marcus dragged the corpse of his only son to the edge of some oleanders, where he managed to dig a hole with the help of his gladius and his own fingers.

Time was of the essence, which prevented him from laying Augustus to rest following the rituals of the Roman religion. He could only place a bronze coin over Augustus' mouth as payment to Charon, the ferryman of the Underworld, before throwing dirt on him. He then had composed himself as best he could, letting the General's façade fall on his face, and headed east, unaware that his friend Atticus had suffered a similar end.

On one day alone, he had lost two of the most important people in his life.

His mind returned to the present. From his right hand hung the decapitated head of Decebalus, already so decomposed that there was no blood left inside. The coward had tried to escape to Ranisstorum and, in his last desperate moments, committed suicide when Marcus and another officer, Tiberius Maximus, were hunting him down.

Finding his enemy defeated by his own demons was an anticlimactic moment, given the events of the previous days. Tiberius circumambulated towards Sarmizegetusa again, while Marcus and his legion, along with Atticus’, returned to Rome.

He was defeated, physically and mentally. Marcus just wanted to finish that damned mission and return to his villa. An empty one, devoid of a family he once revered.

In the blink of an eye, he found himself in the throne room, with Emperor Traianus staring at him, a sardonic smile painting his lips. After placing the head of Decebalus at the feet of the Emperor, he gave his last report of war. When the time came to deliver the news that his son-in-law, General Atticus, had perished in battle, the smile faded from Traianus’ face. That would be a hard blow to recover from.

Marcus explained the details that had been entrusted to him, omitting the death of his firstborn and ending with the fact that Atticus’ legion was carrying his corpse through the streets of Rome at that very moment, heading to the basilica of the Domus Flavia to begin with the funeral rites.

At least one of the two would have proper burial.

He said goodbye with deferential courtesy and shuffled out of there. He still had one last assignment: to inform the wife of General Atticus and daughter of the Emperor, you.

With heavy feet, Marcus ambled towards the most private wing of the Palace, the Domus Augustana. One of the maids guided him through the unfamiliar corridors, leaving him in front of a basin raised on a half column. Marcus took the hint, realising that there was still dirt—and specks of dried blood—embedded in his face. He did as he was asked, drying his skin with a linen cloth, before resuming his pace.

Finally, they stopped in front of double doors, and the maid knocked.

A minute later, they swung open.

Steeling himself for what was to come, Marcus bowed his aching back, keeping his eyes on the expensive stone that lined the floor.

“Domina mea (my lady),” he greeted you with deference.

Keeping busy while worry stalked the back of your mind was a colossal task. One you should have been used to by now, but it was nonetheless nerve-wracking.

Having to wait around until you heard news from your husband was not how you wanted to spend your days, but for love you had to. For Rome, you had to. Your husband, Resius Atticus, was your father’s most trusted ally, which meant he was kept away from you for long nights.

You flicked through the pages of the shabby parchment, its ink slowly fading with the passage of time. Finding yourself reading the same paragraph again, you decided to put it aside. You curled up on the chaise lounge, hugging your knees as the sun filtered through the slit window — a ray of sunshine kissing your skin, leaving a warm trail.

Closing your eyes, you revelled in the rare moment of quiet, of peace, a smile lingering on the corners of your mouth.

A knock on the door swept the instant away, and then your heart fluttered uncontrollably.

Today was the day when Resius was meant to return. To his duties in the court, but also to you. You looked forward to settling back into a routine with him, lazy afternoons spent by the private gardens, talking sweet nothings to each other. Despite the years spent by his side, you didn’t tire of him, of your unbreakable relationship.

So, when you swung the double doors open with a pearly smile tugging at your lips, you did not expect to see your husband’s best friend instead.

Your heart suddenly stopped in your chest, swelling to an uncomfortable point. It stretched, a crawling feeling tearing your skin apart from the inside out.

Widened eyes, they locked on his, searching for answers and finding none. Marcus wore an impassible expression, but the way he averted his glassy eyes told you everything you needed to know.

This could only mean one thing. Your worst nightmare taking form, escaping from your dreams and filtering into reality.

Still shocked, you saw the server scurrying away, leaving you alone with the General — but not your General.

“May I come in, Augusta (Imperial Princess)?” his soft voice broke through your blocked eardrums.

Jarred, you nodded, stepping aside to let Acacius in.

You stood there, numb and confounded, your brain trying to find another reason for General Acacius’ visit.

“Please, let us sit down,” Acacius spoke gently, a firm hand on the small of your back guiding you towards the chaise lounge.

This truly felt like a dream, ethereal and foggy, something your vivid imagination had come up with during an unrequited afternoon nap. That had to be it, because this could not be it. You still had a thousand lives to live besides Resius — you had prayed to the Gods for his safe return and they never failed you.

Under Acacius’ direction, you sat down, the pillow underneath giving way to the weight of both of you.

“Domina mea, I regret to be the bearer of bad news. General Atticus perished at the mercy of a Dacian sword, defending two of his fallen soldiers from certain death,” his words shook your system, the numbness taking hold of all your being.

Silence lingered, and you both sat there with eyes fixed on nothing.

This just wasn’t real, couldn’t be. You refused to register such cruel information, shaking your head to unhear what had been spoken aloud.

“No, you have to be wrong, Acacius. I am sure you are,” you finally replied, eyes looking for his tired orbs. A hand flew to one of his resting on his knee, squeezing it tight. “You are wrong. This must be some twisted joke.”

Acacius’ sight did not lie though. You could see the pain emanating from his eyes, the utter bareness they exuded. With pursed lips, he just stared at you, his free hand hovering over yours on his knee until he stroked it warmly.

“I am truly sorry, Domina mea. I… I wish I was lying,” his voice faltered momentarily. “I lament not having been by his side. Had I been, I would have gladly traded my life for his. I would have…”

Acacius did not finish the sentence, because the wail that tore through your throat interrupted him. A fresh wound split your chest in half, all emotions pouring out in a sudden burst. Tears welled up, blurring your vision, and you clutched at your chest, your lungs shrinking with your heart. A burning sensation filled you and then deserted you, leaving you empty, cold — broken.

Losing Resius was a death sentence to your heart, to your soul. To all you were and would be. Life would not—could not—be the same if he was no longer brightening it for you. Hope was no longer your companion, the easy happiness that usually shimmered within you all gone with the blow of a few simple words.

Something crawled inside you, twisting and twitching and breaking and consuming. Something dark, something sad, something shattered. Grief suffocated your heart. This was not pain, this was torment. Living hell.

The raw intensity of it all clouded your mind. Your fractured soul looking for a chink of solace, wanting to cling onto a sliver of hope. Before thinking, you let go of the dam of your emotions, sobs flooding your mouth, as you turned around and hugged Acacius.

Little did it matter the blood and dirt on his worn armour, you needed the comfort of a friendly shoulder. Acacius would understand your pain, the suffering that crushed your soul, because he had also lost his best friend. The two of them had been inseparable for decades — you both had lost someone important that day. He would understand. You knew he did.

Threading your arms around his shoulders, you cried your sorrow in the crook of his neck, kind palms rubbing your back, commending your pain to leave your body. So, you wept until your eyes were bloodshot, until they itched and dried like a river during the worst drought of the century. Trickles of tears stained your cheeks, lashes clumping together under the heaviness of tearful dew.

Time was lost to the dragging pain, and only when Acacius’ hands stroked your shoulders, did you venture a look in his direction, leaning back. The naked expression on his face told you how much agony he carried. The soreness his eyes distilled was on par with yours.

“I am sorry for your loss too,” you offered your condolences. After all, he had lost his best friend. “I trust that your son Augustus found his way back home safe.”

Before their departure, Acacius and his son had paid you both a visit, a meal shared at night between old friends’ jests and company. You remembered Augustus’ enthusiasm to make his father proud on their first campaign together. How Acacius had looked at his heir with adulation and pride — the apple of his eyes. Acacius’ wife had died during childbirth, which had only reinforced the close relationship between father and son.

A feeble smile loitered on his mouth, a brief nod putting your mind at ease. Neither of you needed more suffering tonight.

“He is resting now,” was his succinct reply.

But Acacius always was, so his reassurance soothed your soul a little.

At least Acacius and his son had made it out alive.

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