#i just feel that some of this newer generation (my generation) has an air of ‘we’re gay but we’re normal about it’ ?

[dykitup]

being butch and growing up with the perception that Being Butch makes you fundamentally less lovable than being “normal” is soooo weeeeird. i log onto tumblr.com and there’s so much butch love? from femmes nonetheless? community is so important it genuinely makes me a little bit emotional

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗠𝗜𝗗𝗡𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧, 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗥𝗦 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗬𝗢𝗨 - five mafia! charles leclerc x wife! reader ( angst + smut ) series summary . . . after preparing your whole life to be married off to a mafia boss, you now have the difficult task of figuring out your new marriage and life, ensuring they don't turn out to be miserable.

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The paranoia settled in your bones like an ache, constant and impossible to ignore.

Max was bold—too bold. His words still echoed in your head, the quiet assurance that he would take Monaco, take Italy, take you if he wanted. And maybe that was just his ego talking, but you knew better than to dismiss him outright.

Because Max didn’t make threats. He made promises.

And if he had the confidence to stand in a room full of powerful men and all but dare them to challenge him, that meant he wasn’t worried about opposition.

That meant he had eyes on the inside.

You had spent years in this world. You knew how these things worked. Information was power, and if Max had his hands on it before you did, then Charles was at a disadvantage before the game had even begun.

You weren’t going to let that happen.

So you moved quietly.

Arthur was your first and only call, the only person you trusted with this. If Max had spies, they were woven deep within the organization—embedded where you least expected them. You needed someone sharp, someone who wouldn’t hesitate to cut out the rot before it spread.

Arthur, as always, was already a step ahead.

“Security’s got cracks,” he admitted when you met in the office later that night, leaning against the desk as he scrolled through his phone. “We’re running background checks on some of the lower-level guys again. I don’t trust the newer ones.”

You exhaled, tapping your fingers against your thigh. “It’s not just them. Someone higher up must be feeding Max information. He wouldn’t be this confident otherwise.”

Arthur’s expression hardened. “You think it’s one of our people?”

“I think it has to be.” You folded your arms, eyes scanning the dimly lit office. “We need to check everyone. Contacts, transactions, who they’re meeting with, who they’ve been speaking to. If someone so much as breathed in Max’s direction, I want to know about it.”

Arthur nodded, already making notes. “I’ll have our guys sweep for wiretaps too. Last thing we need is someone listening in.”

You sighed, the tension in your shoulders not easing in the slightest. “We need to move fast, Arthur. Max is making his move. If we don’t clean this up now, we’ll be two steps behind when it matters most.”

Arthur glanced at you then, reading the sharp edge in your voice, the unease in your eyes. For all your usual confidence, for all your ruthlessness in handling business, you were rattled.

Max had gotten to you.

And that? That made Arthur furious.

He nodded once, firm. “I’ll take care of it.”

And you knew he would. Because Arthur, unlike you, had never been close to Max. Arthur had never trusted him.

That was your mistake.

One you wouldn’t make again.

The tension had Been simmering for days, building slowly like a storm on the horizon. But now, as the door to the study slammed shut behind you, the storm finally broke.

Charles stood there, fists clenched, his face a mask of frustration and anger. His usually calm demeanor was gone, replaced by something raw and fierce.

"What the hell were you thinking?" His voice was low, but there was no mistaking the heat behind it. "You went behind my back, talked to Max of all people, and didn't tell me? I trusted you, Yn!"

You took a step back, not from fear, but because his anger was enough to make the air between you feel suffocating. "It’s not like that," you started, voice trembling with a mixture of frustration and defensiveness. "This isn’t your fight, Charles. I didn’t want to drag you into this mess—"

“Not my fight?” His voice grew louder, and you could see his jaw clenching with every word. "You’re my wife, Yn! Everything that involves you is my fight. You think I can just sit here and pretend like I don’t care? You think I didn’t notice you’ve been keeping things from me?”

Your chest tightened, but you refused to back down. "I wasn’t trying to hide it, Charles. I just— I don’t want you to get involved. Max . . . he’s dangerous. I don’t want you to get hurt because of me."

The words hung in the air, thick with emotion. Charles stared at you, eyes narrowed with a mix of hurt and anger.

"And you thought not telling me was the best way to protect me?" His voice was shaking now, his anger breaking through. "I hate that you didn’t tell me. I’ve been waiting for you to tell me, waiting for you to trust me enough to open up . . . and you didn’t." His hands balled into fists, shaking at his sides. "You should’ve told me, Yn. We should be able to trust each other with everything—everything—especially when it comes to this."

You turned your head away, your own anger building with each word he threw at you. "You don’t get it, Charles," you spat, throwing your hands up in frustration. "This isn’t just your fight. This is mine. I’ve had to deal with Max on my own for years, and I’m not about to drag you into it—especially not when you have so much at stake."

His face twisted in frustration, and before you could blink, his hands shot out, gripping your shoulders roughly. The shock of his touch sent a jolt of anger through you.

"Stop!" you shouted, trying to pull away, but he held you in place, shaking you with an intensity that made your head spin.

"No!" he yelled, his voice breaking. "This is our problem, Yn! It’s not just yours to deal with. You shouldn’t have to deal with him alone. I won’t stand by and watch you go through this by yourself."

You shook your head, the frustration bubbling over. "I can handle him, Charles. I’m more than capable of defending myself—"

Before you could finish, he cut you off, his lips crashing into yours, silencing you completely. It was rough, hard, desperate, as if the only way he could get through to you was by pressing his mouth against yours. You didn’t have time to react before he had pushed you against the wall, his body looming over yours, pressing you into the cool surface.

You gasped, trying to push him away, but his grip on your shoulders tightened, keeping you trapped in place.

"Shut up," he growled against your lips, his breath hot and frantic. "Just for once, let me help you."

His kiss deepened, more forceful, almost angry, and you could feel the weight of everything—his fear, his anger, his need for control—all of it pouring into the way he kissed you.

But all you could think about was the way Max had made you feel, how much he had gotten under your skin. It was enough to push you to shove Charles away, breaking the kiss with a breathless gasp.

"Don’t you dare," you spat, your voice shaking with the intensity of the fight. "You can’t just kiss me to shut me up, Charles. That’s not how this works."

Charles’s eyes darkened with a dangerous mix of frustration and something deeper. His lips curled into a tight smirk, but there was nothing playful about it.

“Well, fucking watch me,” he muttered, voice low and almost predatory. Before you could process his words, his mouth was on you again, more aggressive this time, as if he were trying to prove something. He kissed you hard, his lips bruising yours with the force of his anger. His hands grabbed at your waist, pulling you flush against him as he pressed you into the nearest surface, his body a solid weight against yours.

You struggled for a moment, trying to break free, but he held you with an intensity that left no room for escape. When you finally pulled away, gasping for air, you opened your mouth to speak, to tell him this wasn’t okay, that you didn’t want this right now . . . but before a single word left your lips, he snapped at you.

“Shut up,” he growled, his voice rough, and without warning, he tossed you back onto the leather couch, the impact making you grunt in surprise.

You didn’t have time to react before he was on top of you, his body pinning you down. His lips trailed down your neck, hot and demanding, and you could feel the urgency in every movement. His knee pressed firmly between your legs, and you couldn’t suppress the startled squeak that escaped you as your body jolted under him.

Charles didn’t even flinch, his lips never leaving the sensitive skin of your neck, his hands roaming as if he needed to feel every inch of you. His knee pushed against you again, and you gasped, feeling the heat and tension rise between you like wildfire.

“Charles . . .” you managed, voice shaky and breathless, but your words were drowned out by the feel of his mouth on your skin. He was relentless, moving with a possessive hunger, pressing you further into the couch, his body grinding against yours in a way that left you confused, angry, but undeniably . . . affected.

You clenched your fists against the soft leather beneath you, trying to regain some control over the situation.

“Don’t you dare,” you breathed, your voice a low warning. He ignored your warnings and proceeded to rip off your shirt anyways.

"Not tonight," he muttered against your skin, his voice thick with frustration, but his hands were still moving eagerly over your body. The fire in his eyes burned hotter, more urgent, as if he was driven by something he couldn’t control.

You struggled under him, but his grip tightened. "No," you said, trying to get a word in, but his mouth was back on you, kissing you hard and needy. He was everywhere, his body enveloping you, his hands tugging at your skirt, hastily pulling it off until you were just in your panties, exposed beneath him.

“Let me deal with this. Your problems are mine too,” Charles said, his tone almost possessive. “That’s what being husband and wife is all about. That’s the whole point of marriage.”

He kissed you again—demanding, rough. It was as if he needed to remind you of what belonged to him. His hips pressed into yours as you felt the hardness of him against your thigh. Your breath hitched as your body betrayed you, the heat between your legs growing, despite the anger bubbling in your chest.

“No,” you gasped, trying to push him off, but Charles was already lifting you, his hands gripping your thighs and hoisting you up against the wall with surprising strength. You let out a breathless gasp as the gravity pulled you downward, your body pressed against his chest with his cock teasing your entrance.

“Relax,” he murmured against your ear, his breath hot, making you shiver. "Let me take care of you."

You gripped his shoulders for balance, trying to steady yourself, but the position was making everything feel out of control. The weight of his body pressing against yours, his cock pushing just inside you with slow, deliberate thrusts. The force of him was overwhelming, and you cried out, the shock of the sudden change in position leaving you breathless.

Charles’s eyes darkened, his face flushed with desire. "You feel good, baby," he muttered, his voice hoarse. "So tight, so fucking good."

You bit your lip, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to fall as your body strained to adjust to the position. Gravity pushed you down onto him, each thrust deepening as you gasped, feeling him fill you completely, his thrusts getting more desperate as your body rocked against the wall.

"Charles, I—" you gasped, your words cut off by the intense rhythm, your nails digging into his shoulders as the tension in your body built. But Charles wasn’t stopping, his hips snapping into you harder, more urgently as he leaned his forehead against yours, eyes squeezed shut, the strain on his face evident.

“I’m not gonna last,” he groaned, his thrusts turning into frantic movements, pushing deeper, faster, harder.

You couldn't hold back the moan that escaped your lips as you finally gave in to the overwhelming pleasure, feeling him fill you completely as you came, your body trembling beneath his touch. His name fell from your lips in a breathless cry as you felt the heat of your orgasm crash over you.

But Charles wasn’t done yet. He continued to thrust into you, his pace growing erratic. Finally, with one last deep thrust, he came, his breath ragged as he stilled inside you.

For a moment, the room was silent except for the sound of your breaths. Then, as he pulled away slightly, still holding you against the wall, he whispered three words that shocked you to your core:

“I love you.”

You froze, your heart stuttering. His gaze was soft now, vulnerable even, and his lips barely touched yours as he whispered again, “I love you, Yn.”

Your mind went blank. He’d never said it before—never once since the day you’d become his. The vulnerability in his eyes, the sincerity in his voice, left you stunned, unable to speak for a moment.

“Say something,” he murmured, running a hand through your hair, his touch softer now, as if he feared he'd broken something inside you.

[slaytheusurper]

⭑ Parthenos ⭑ (Domina Mea, Chapter Five)

Masterlist

A/N: I got really frustrated that I didn't seem to write to flow of sentences that well and experimented with Grammerly (as english is not my first language) and it ended up amazing and just how I see it in my head, so yes it is still written and made up by me but without mistakes and with better wording. Enjoy!

Pairing: Emperor Geta & Caracalla x Noble!Reader

Warnings: Angst, angst and some angst, Acacius and Lucilla get reader into big trouble, Macrinus is just a fucking rat one again, hopefully more historically accurate?

Summary: The insurrection has been revealed...

Word count: 3.3k

The silk fabric of your garment was cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the heat of the night before. For a moment, you lingered in that hazy space between sleep and wakefulness, but as your senses sharpened, reality settled in. The space beside you was empty. The warmth of their bodies, their presence- gone. 

Sunlight streamed through the open windows, casting golden streaks across the now more familiar chamber of your fathers estate. Had it been a dream? No. The ache in your limbs, the faint traces of their scent on your skin- it had been real. Finally they had taken you and you knew there was no going back, neither for them as for you.

Lazing around in bed all day would not help your state of mind, so you decided to rise from your bed and leave your chambers. After having searched for your servant, she helped you prepare for the day. Even though you did not know what the sunny day would bring, you hoped it would involve the Emperors. Your heart was already aching for their touch. 

Later, you found yourself in the solar, still no invitation from the Emperors. The fine thread slid between your fingers as the spindle hummed softly while you worked. This fine art required focus but yet you could not put your mind to it. Weaving was also supposed to calm the mind but it was not able to put yours to rest. 

All you could think about was them, anxiety ever growing as the day went by far too quickly. Why had they not invited you? Did something happen? Had Macrinus somehow gotten to them- A sharp snap pulled you from your thoughts. The thread had broken, once again. The attendant hesitated before speaking, sensing your tension. “Shall I fetch new thread? My lady?” She asked. 

“Yes.” You exhaled, it would be a long wait. 

The damp air of the Colosseum’s underground cells clung to General Acacius like a second skin, thick with the stench of sweat, decay, and something more rancid he dared not name. Torchlight flickered against the stone walls, casting long shadows that made the passage feel like it was breathing- watching.

His boots pressed against the uneven ground, the squelch of filth punctuating each step. Water dripped from above, forming small puddles that rippled as he and his men passed through. He refused to consider what mixed with the water beneath his feet. The dungeons of the Colosseum were a place of suffering- forgotten men left to rot, their fates determined by the will of the crowd and the cruelty of the arena.

A sickly cough echoed from one of the cells, followed by a weak groan. A pair of beady eyes stared at him from the darkness- a rat, large and bloated, scurrying over the outstretched hand of a prisoner too weak to swat it away. Acacius barely spared the man a glance.

Lucilla had told him Lucius would be in a newer cell, all the way at the back. That meant he had much ground to cover before reaching his goal. Yet, as he treaded deeper into the halls of suffering, an unease swirled in his gut. There were no guards. Why did it seem so easy?

The absence of Praetorians gnawed at him, setting his instincts on edge. This place should have been swarming with them- watching, waiting. Instead, there was nothing but the soft footsteps of his men, their presence barely disturbing the silence. He tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword, the rough leather grounding him.

As he turned corner upon corner, the walls seemed to narrow, the shadows growing denser, as though the Colosseum itself wanted to swallow him whole. He could feel it now- his goal was close. The weight of his mission pressed against his ribs, the danger of what he was about to do tightening around his throat.

If the Emperors discovered him before he secured the gladiator, all would be lost- his wife, his future, his life. And worse, so would his daughter. Everything he did was for her. Every betrayal, every secret, every risk. And she didn’t even realize it.

It was when the General turned the last corner, followed closely by his men, that his life went up in flames. A sudden sharp whistle sliced the air, followed by the familiar thud of an arrow hitting its target. He had no time to react as his loyal soldiers crumbled to the ground, his heart rose to his throat. The weight of his failure almost made him sink to the floor himself.

He recognised the man that stepped out of the shadows, Praetorians surrounding him as they demanded his surrender. The commander pointed the tip of his sword at Acacius, daring him to act now, but the General couldn’t. He then felt how the cold metal swiftly graced his forehead, before his face was revealed, and his hood had fallen from his head.

Acacius knew, all was lost. 

Night had long since fallen over the estate, the halls silent and dead. Still, no invitation had come. The flickering torches in the corridors had burned low, their golden glow reduced to embers. Even Lucilla had surrendered to the late hour, retreating to her chambers with a soft goodnight. Alone, you sat by the window, eyes fixed on the stars in the black sky, waiting. Hoping.

But hope had stretched thin. It was time to give up. With a quiet sigh, you rose and slouched towards your bed. But sleep did not come easily. You tossed, turned, thoughts circling like a vicious cycle in the dark. Had you misread the signs? Had they simply forgotten you? Or worse- had they already grown bored of you? At last, exhaustion weighed down your limbs, and you drifted into uneasy slumber.

The pounding at your chamber door shattered the stillness.

You jolted upright, heart thumping against your ribs as the sound echoed through the room. Disoriented, you turned toward the window. The moon was still high, shining over the estate grounds.  How long had you slept? Minutes? Hours?

Then came a voice- sharp, authoritative, and unmistakably male.

"My lady, open the door! By order of the Emperors Geta and Caracalla!"

The words sent a shiver down your spine. Your pulse quickened as you climbed out of bed, bare feet meeting the cold marble floor. Confusion and dread tangled in your chest as you reached for the door, fingers hesitating on the handle. What could they possibly want at this hour?

With a slow breath, you pulled it open.

A wave of torchlight flooded in, momentarily blinding you. When your vision adjusted, you were met with the gleaming helmets and rough faces of at least twenty Praetorian guards, their hands resting on the hilts of their swords. The man at the front stood rigid, eyes cold and unforgiving. But it wasn’t the soldiers that made your blood run cold.

It was Lucilla. She stood among them, shackled, her wrists bound in iron, her usually neat hair disheveled. Her eyes tired, red-rimmed, locked onto yours, pleading.

Then the soldier before you spoke.

"My lady, you are under arrest for conspiracy as well as treachery against the Empire and the Emperor's themselves. Go with us willingly, and we won’t have to hurt you."

The words struck like a blow. Lucilla stirred among the almost statue like Praetorians, her voice hoarse, barely more than a whisper. “My daughter is no part of this, I beg of you, leave her here. She did not know about this, she is innocent.” Lucillas words widened your tired eyes. 

But the soldier made it abundantly clear that he did not believe her. He grabbed your arms and pulled you with him, another man joined your wrists together by binding them with shackles, pulling a gasp from you. It was a grim scene, as both you and Lucilla left the estate as prisoners. 

They had seized you from the estate like a common criminal.

There had been no time to fetch shoes, no chance to wrap yourself in proper attire. The Praetorians had no mercy for a lady once cherished, now condemned. Your protests had fallen on deaf ears, your dignitas reduced to nothing beneath their grip. Even Lucilla, had been torn from your side, the two of you put into separate carriages as if mere slaves.

Tears traced down your cheeks, vanishing into the thin fabric of your night toga. What had you done to deserve this? The journey was long, the carriage rattling over the uneven roads as you stared into the endless void of the night, lost in the uncertainty of what awaited you.  

When at last the carriage reached Palatine Hill, another arrived as well- though from a different direction. You barely had a moment to register its presence before rough hands yanked you forward.

Gone was the courtesy once reserved for a lady of noble blood. Gone was the deference meant for a woman who had once held the favor of emperors. You hit the ground with a wince, your bare feet meeting the coarse, cold sand outside the palace steps. The night air blew over your exposed skin, you shivered, but not from the cold.

A flicker of movement caught your eye- your father. His gaze met yours across the courtyard, his lips parting as if to speak, to offer some explanation, some reassurance. But no words came. None were allowed.

Before you could reach for him, he was dragged up the steps, his towering form no match for the forceful hands of the Praetorians. Neither you nor Lucilla escaped justice, your shackles rattling as you were urged forward.

Your head throbbed from the night’s torment, your eyes raw from endless tears. You longed for answers, for assurance, for someone to tell you this was all a mistake. But the palace offered no such comfort.

Only the muffled shuffle of footsteps and the soft sniffles escaping your trembling lips disturbed the silence of the grand halls. The familiar path you walked sent a fresh wave of dread washing over you.

The throne room.

You had walked this path before, though never like this. Never with chains biting into your wrists, never with your very existence reduced to something so... insignificant. With every step, the weight of betrayal pressed deeper into your chest. A betrayal you did not commit. A crime you did not even understand.

And yet, here you were. Helpless. Small. Forgotten by those who once claimed to care. The golden doors loomed ahead, the flickering torchlight painting shadows against their towering frame. Beyond them lay judgment, mercy, or death. You could only hope the Emperors would believe you, but believe what exactly?

The towering golden doors groaned open, their weight echoing through the throne room. Cold hands shoved you forward, forcing you to step further onto the icy marble floor. Lucilla moved beside you, her chains rattling softly with each step as you both shuffled inside.

The room was eerily silent.

The Emperors had not yet arrived, and that only made the dread coil tighter in your stomach. Your own heartbeat pounded in your ears as your eyes flickered over the grand chamber- the towering columns, the burning braziers. The high ceiling that made you feel even smaller.

Then your gaze landed on him.

Macrinus.

A sickening wave of nausea clawed its way up your throat as you found him lounging on one of the lectus’, draped in smug satisfaction. His gaze met yours briefly before shifting away, as if you were beneath his notice. But it wasn’t just him. Next to him sat the man from that night. 

You tore your eyes away, fixing them to the ground, swallowing hard against the bile rising in your throat. And then- footsteps. Distant at first, but growing louder. Your breath hitched as dark forms moved between the marble pillars, shifting in and out of the flickering torchlight. You knew who it was before you could fully see them. Their presence was unmistakable.

The emperors.

When they finally stepped into view, a sharp gasp escaped Geta’s lips. You couldn’t bring yourself to meet their eyes. You stared at the cold floor beneath your bare feet, your heart hammering as silence stretched between you all.

Geta opened his mouth to speak but hesitated, his breath uneven. The silence was unbearable, you forced yourself to look up. Geta stood before you in a deep crimson robe embroidered with gold, his curls wild, his expression heartbroken. His eyes- red-rimmed, glassy- searched your face as though he could pull the truth from your form.

And then there was Caracalla.

His white toga mirrored your own, the contrast stark against the heavy shadows in his face. His chest rose and fell with uneven, heavy breaths, his eyes brimming with fury and betrayal.

“Thanks to the civic virtue of men like Thraex and Macrinus, your insurrection,” Geta’s voice cracked, “has been revealed. The honor, the dignitas that Rome has bestowed upon you, all of it you have forfeited by your treachery-”

“Your Majesty, please,” a voice interrupted.

Acacius.

Your father’s voice was strained, raw with desperation. “My daughter has nothing to do with this. She is innocent. She had no knowledge of tonight’s events- I am uncertain if she even knows now what has taken place.”

Your red-rimmed eyes locked with Geta’s teary ones, and for a moment, neither of you moved. You wanted to scream, to demand answers, to plead for your innocence. But before you could find the words, Geta spoke again.

“Macrinus told me something entirely different.” Geta’s voice hardened, his sorrow giving way to suspicion. He turned his gaze to Acacius, his fingers curling into fists. “He told me that you saw an opportunity to throw your daughter at us- to- to what? Distract us? So we wouldn’t find out about your little plot?” His voice twisted with disdain, the weight of betrayal thick in his tone.

The air in the room grew suffocating, the weight of their fury pressing down on you. This was not how you wanted to see them again.

“Caesar, I swear I had no knowledge of this plan,” you cried, your voice breaking with each word. “Nor do I even know the full extent of it now. Truly- I don’t even know why we are here.” Your voice was desperate, trembling with the fear that if they did not believe you now, there would be no hope left.

Caracalla stepped forward, his face burning with rage, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Why should we believe you?” he shouted, his voice shaking. “You are the daughter of a traitor!” His words burned through you, the hurt in his eyes far more painful than his accusations.

“No- no, please!” You stumbled forward, your chains clinking together as you dropped to your knees. “I will do anything! I’ll do anything to prove to you that I am loyal! I would never betray you- or the Empire!” Your sobs shook your frame, your voice barely above a whisper by the end.

Geta stared at you, something in his expression shifting. Doubt flickered in his eyes. He wanted to believe you. He needed to believe you. But justice conflicted with love. His gaze snapped to Macrinus, his jaw tightening.

“You were the one to bring this news to me,” Geta said, his voice unsteady. “What do you say, Macrinus?”

Macrinus barely glanced at you before stepping forward, leaning into Geta’s ear. His lips moved in a slow murmur, his voice just soft enough to remain unheard. Even Caracalla strained to listen, his fists clenching at his sides.

When Macrinus stepped back, Geta hesitated for only a heartbeat before straightening. His expression was unreadable.

Then-

“Take the General and Lady Lucilla to the cells.”

The words fell like a blade. Lucilla tensed behind you. Acacius’ ragged breathing filled the room, his entire body coiled in resistance as the Praetorians closed in. The guards hesitated. For a brief moment, there was uncertainty in their movements.

But Geta’s command was law. Hands seized Acacius and Lucilla, dragging them away as their protests died against the cold walls. Still on your knees, you were at their mercy as tears escaped you once again. “Get out.” Caracalla snapped, his eyes focusing on Macrinus. The man simply bowed and was followed by Threax as he left the dark room.

Your knees ache against the hard marble, the cold seeping into your skin. Your body trembled- not just from the chill that clung to your half bare skin, but from the uncertainty that clawed at your chest.

Then came warmth. A touch, too sudden, too intimate. You flinched as Geta’s fingers brushed against your arm, his hand reaching for you with something that felt like desperation. You jerked away instinctively, your breath catching in your throat.

“Stand.”

His voice was quiet, almost gentle. But there was no room for defiance.

Your legs felt stiff as you pushed yourself up, your bare feet settling against the polished marble once more. You tried to ground yourself on the ground beneath you, but it did nothing to still the quiver in your limbs.

A shift in the room- Caracalla’s gaze.

You could feel his eyes roaming over you, the tension in his stance tightening as he took in your disheveled state. His expression darkened when he noticed your lack of sandals, your vulnerable, exposed form before them.

“Swear to me,” Geta’s voice came suddenly. His hand found the back of your neck, his fingers curling there- not forceful, but firm enough to make you feel the weight of what he was asking. He pulled you closer, his breath warm against your temple.

“Swear to me that you didn’t betray us. Swear it.” Geta commanded. Tears clung to your lashes as you looked up at him, the fear in his eyes mirroring your own. Your lips trembled as you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. “I swear it, Caesar, I do.”

For a moment, nothing moved. Nothing breathed.

Then Caracalla exhaled sharply, stepping away from the heavy silence that wrapped around you all. His movements were restless, his frustration bleeding into the way he paced the chamber. His fingers flexed at his sides, his teeth clenched as if trying to hold back the fury simmering beneath his skin.

“You know we cannot let you go,” Caracalla murmured, his voice low, “And we can’t let your father go.” Geta straightened, his grip on you loosening, but the weight of his presence did not. “His fate will be decided in the Colosseum.” Geta then added. Was that what Macrinus had whispered to him?

Your breath caught. You had known—somewhere, deep down, you had known. But hearing it spoken aloud made you feel like you were suffocating. “And you…” Geta continued, his voice tired. “You will remain in a chamber close to ours so we can- keep an eye on you.”

There was something unspoken in those words, something that lingered between them like an unfinished sentence. Your throat felt tight, but you nodded, your body surrendering to exhaustion. You would have to prove your loyalty.

And you had no idea how.

Taglist: @boywivlove

[honeysunai]

Hostess| Kyoya Ootori x reader

Part ten - Under the Mistletoe

Pairing : Kyoya Ootori x reader

General rating : Fluff, enemies to love vibes

Word count : 3k

Author's note : I will be keeping the old aesthetic for this story, sorry for people who like the new aesthetic of my newer one shots. Also, clearly, this was meant to be a Christmas special, but we are in September and I kind of wanted to wait until December, but I've been holding off for months, so here it is and I do hope you enjoy this part. As always, have an amazing day and stay hydrated!

Summary: As only heir to your family you are bound to an arrange marriage with the third son of the powerful house Ootori. His cold behavior is only a mask for you to uncover when you stumble into music room number three. 

You jolted awake like you’ve done for the past ten days. Your mind was racing and your heart was pounding. You couldn’t stop thinking about Kyoya and what he did so shamelessly to you. The memory of Kyoya's shameless actions consumed you, a relentless loop that replayed with vivid intensity. He had acted without a shred of hesitation, unburdened by remorse, leaving an indelible mark on your consciousness and your body. Your thighs clenched together and your face turns red at the thought of Kyoya back between your legs. 

It was short and passionate, he kissed you more afterwards and refused to give in to your pleasure to return the favor to him. To your displeasure, he refused and reminded you that this “deal” between you is only physical and he didn’t need you that night. The day after he had put back the wall he put between you and barely spoke to you and you did the same by ignoring him for all the next ten days.  No matter how hard you try to get him off your mind and ignore him, the second you close your eyes you can only think about him and what you wish he would do to you. 

All that daydreaming is costing you some A’s on your papers and you won’t settle for less!

This wasn’t you! You were so confused as to why you dreamt so much about him! You used to despise him and his shitty attitude and now you were sexually dreaming of him… Get a grip! You couldn’t lose to him either, you said you won’t fall in love with him, he’s just a high school crush… A crush… You couldn’t possibly have a crush on Kyoya Ootori? He’s a stupid teenager and you are so much more than a teenager that has a crush. You’re independent, you’re talented, intelligent and pretty. 

You went to your mirror to get ready and pointed at your reflection with a twisted expression. “You have to despise him again.” You grunt. “You don’t love him, you lust after him which is not better, but it’s temporary.” 

Under the chilling water, you braced yourself for the day ahead, feeling the exhaustion seep from your bones. It was shaping up to be another one of those rough days. After the shower, you reluctantly checked your agenda, and there it was, like a punch to the gut – an exam last period. Groaning, you realized the day wasn't going to cut you any slack. With a sigh, you steeled yourself for the challenge, hoping you'd find the energy to tackle it when the time came.

You’ve managed to survive two periods before Kyoya dragged you into an empty music room, his lips glued to yours. His gentle hands cupped your cheeks, tilting your head upward to part your perfect lips so his tongue can meet yours. 

As your lips meet in a deliberate, unhurried rhythm, time seems to pause, allowing every tender sensation to unfurl. The warmth of Kyoya’s breath mingles with yours, creating an electric current that courses through your body. The gentle exploration of lips and tongues is a language of desire, each movement deliberate and sensuous. Every touch is deliberate, sensuous, and in those stolen moments, it's like you're wrapped up in this emotional symphony. The world outside just kind of disappears, and all that's left is this mix of vulnerability and desire hanging in the air. It's intense, like you're caught up in something so much bigger than just a kiss.

You broke the kiss first and his eyes searched yours with this lust that glimmered in them. 

You whisper while looking up at him.  “I can’t keep doing this.” 

He huffs. “What do you mean?”

“We only kiss when you want it, not when I want to.” You tell him. “I try to do it at school and you kind of… do not reciprocate until you want me.”

“Because it’s fun to see you turn red. If you want my attention you’ll have to try harder y/n.” He smiles softly, seeing you didn’t find it funny he continued. “I’m sorry I made you feel that way.” That was the least you’d expect from him. You were quite shocked in all honesty. 

“I want to make a new rule to our arrangement. We can’t kiss or anything until the end of the winter exams.”

“That’s a whole month, you sure you want to risk it?”

She huffs. “Risk what?”

“Miss me.” He smirks. “Miss my touch.” He whispers leaning closer to your ear. “Miss my tongue.” You push him away.

“I’ll be fine. I’m not that desperate.” You roll your eyes at him.

“You're willing to go to great lengths to prove a point; I respect that," he chuckles. "But don't come running back when you start feeling those butterflies right here." He licks his lips as his hand trails down your lower belly. "And find yourself needing me to deal with it."

All that gentleness and kindness was now gone. “Don’t flatter yourself.” 

“Aw.” He clutched at his heart with a playful smile. “Fine. I agree to your terms, we’ll wait after the final exams. We wouldn’t want your grades to be worse than they already are.”

“They are not THAT bad.” You roll your eyes again. “Besides, it’s only a slip up and you know it.”

“It's because you can’t stop thinking about me, is it?”

“You wish.” You bark back before leaving the classroom to go study on your break.

That damn idiot.

The first snow finally arrived and you were so happy, it was the middle of december and you were ecstatic. You and the Club decided to take your little club activities outside on a beautiful day like that. It wasn’t too cold, nor too hot, just the perfect temperature for you to be able to roam around the campus without freezing to death. You were walking with Haruhi and Renge arms intertwined together laughing at Renge’s behavior towards something Asahi said earlier that day. She was red with anger and told you how stupid that boy was and blah blah blah… You and Haruhi couldn’t help but roll your eyes and her poor attempt to conceal her attraction to that guy. 

Around you, the girls were gawking at the three of you hanging out together, seeing how fond you are for one of another made their heart melt. You realized a few months ago how easy it is to make them fall for false charm… or just being yourself. 

You can see on the ground two shadows behind you and you smirk to yourself as you duck an incoming snowball. 

“How did you know?” Hikaru gasps. 

You smirk. “You can’t outwin a snowball fighter champion.”

“Is there such a thing?” Haruhi asks, not entirely convinced and she was right to do so. It was a shit title you just had invented to make the twins busy up in their mind for you to catch the heavy snow, form it into a ball and throw it at Kaoru’s face. 

“You–!” He gasps as you duck to get another one in which you failed to hit the boy another time with the snowball and it was too late… he tackled you to the ground. You yelp as his heavy weight carried you to the ground, but never crushed you as he was holding himself up. You can hear soft giggles and gasp from some of your guests at this incident.

“I’m so sorry.” He whispers with wide eyes and flushed cheeks. You chuckle at this embarrassing situation. Suddenly, someone shadowed the both of you. A strong hand gripped Kaoru’s collar and yanked him with ease off of you. The very same hand helped you stand up on your feet. You look up to see Kyoya’s harsh gaze on the twin. 

“Tackling a defenseless girl is not very nice is it not, Kaoru?”

“I wasn’t defenseless.” You mumbled under your breath. The boys were all confused as to why he was defending you openly in front of everyone. He rolled his eyes at your comment.

“It was all in good fun.” He replies winking at you and that owed him a snowball to the face by none other than Kyoya who had a shiteating grin glued on his face. “It’s on four eyes!” Kaoru yells picking up snow and throwing it directly at him and yet, it hits you. Kyoya used you as his personal meat shield. 

“Using a defenseless girl as a meat shield is not very nice is it not, Kyoya?” You barked at him and before another snowball hit you, he grabbed your arms and made you duck with him. 

“Less talking, more fighting.” He adds and you both grabbed a bunch of snow throwing it at the twins, which hit Tamaki and his guests further behind and you giggled at his blushed angry face. 

“Don’t forget about us!” Honey yells as he, Mori and Haruhi join the battle.

It was free for all, everyone was at each other's throats, there were no rules. Dirty tricks, playing safe, anything was on the table. Kaoru was mostly running away from Kyoya as he was chasing him and you running away from Hikaru and Honey as they swore you were their enemy. You were covered from head to toe with snow, you grew cold, but you wouldn’t admit defeat… Never would you admit defeat.

Kyoya was about to throw one at you, with the biggest smirk on his face. Before he could even throw it, Tamaki and Mori used a large empty flower pot filled with snow and dumped it on your opponent. You could keep your giggles in as his ego took a punch. Your laugh was loud and ugly at best, but it sounded melodious to Kyoya as he had made you laugh, a true one.

The bell finally rang and it was all over. “I guess that makes these two the winners of this fight.” You say between two giggles. Kyoya and Hikaru both wrapped one arm over each shoulder and dragged you inside with the rest of the group following you.

Tamaki, Kyoya, Honey, Mori and you were all sitting in the same class and the teacher could tell you were all playing outside by the way you were disheveled and face flushed from the cold. A smile was glued on your face as you felt Kyoya gazing at the back of your messy hair.

You kept ignoring Kyoya for the next month, burying yourself in books at school, at home, and even in your dreams. The grind of studying became a monotonous escape, but it couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something was off. You couldn't shake the fact that you were shutting out Kyoya completely. The silence between you two weighed heavy on your mind, and even as you immersed yourself in equations and facts, it felt like you were losing something more than just time. The sacrifice of connection for academic gains started to seem like a questionable trade-off. You missed him? No. You’re not that desperate that you miss Kyoya. 

Tomorrow was your last exam before the Christmas break and you were thinking how excited you were to be done with it. You were in bed with your phone in your hands and texted Kyoya, but he was faster than you.  

Good luck tomorrow, goblin shark.

You crack a smile and respond quickly.

I changed my mind… You’re a sunfish. Good luck, Kyoya.

The final bell rang and she could cry tears of joy. You were done with your exams and could finally relax. You took your time to pick up your stuff as you reminisced about the last month and a half and how hard you’ve worked on your studies and how hard it was to actually ignore Kyoya. 

At first it was easy, he became this cold wall of ice as he was before you started school here and slowly it became harder when you two had to meet for a monthly dinner with both families. That night you sat side by side at dinner and his hand was on you the entire time. His slender fingers tracing circles on your thigh, his hand trailing up under your skirt just for you to want, no, need more. After that dinner, you came home like an absolute mess. You were angry at him and yet you only wanted him closer. When you came back to school, you avoided him like the plague no matter how close you two were sitting in class. 

After finally finishing packing your bag, your cheeks still warm from the lingering memories of dinner, you stepped out of the classroom. There was one last thing you needed from the music room before heading home.

The hallways were empty as you entered the music room, moving toward the secret trunk where you kept some of the eccentric costumes Tamaki always insisted you wear. You were so absorbed in whatever was on your phone that you didn’t even notice someone approaching—until you felt a hand pull you swiftly into the empty dressing room. You were about to yell at whoever dragged you, but were cut off by familiar lips crashing into yours. The soft groan that escaped his mouth made her knees grow weak. 

“The exams are over.” He whispers between kisses. “I’ve been patient, but I need this, I need you. Please let me have this.” Was he begging? You dropped your bag and lightly pushed him to the wall behind him, the mirror directly on both of them. 

You had the upper hand whether he liked it or not. And you were going to take advantage of it.

“We will do this my way.“ your fingers graze over his clothed erection — his hips buck up into your touch, “Or we won’t be doing anything at all,” he hisses, as a giggle escapes your lips. “What will it be?” You’re dragging the fabric down his hips, freeing his cock, your eyes nearly hypnotized by the slight of it, thick beads of precum dripping from the slit, before your gaze finds his again, softening.

“Your way.” He breathes and you drop to your knees, your fingers find their way around the base of his cock, drawing a ragged gasp from his lips, before you lean down and flick your tongue against his leaking tip.

Your tongue drags a thick stripe up his cock, before beginning to trace along one of his veins, your fingers slipping up to use his pre to rub up and down his length. Your thumb teases his slit, and a hiss leaves his lips, a smirk against his dick. 

“Fuck…” He looks down at you, then back at the mirror, eyes half shut. You take a peek at the mirror and he would be your undoing, he looked like a mess. You've never seen him like this and it was so satisfying knowing that he was the one who came crawling.

He groans, when his tip brushes against your throat, his fingers finding your scalp to try and ease you off,  “Y/n–” He groans before he’s cumming down your throat, hot release painting your mouth. As soon as you were done, releasing him from your mouth he leaned down to kiss you again. It was needy, messy, but it was something you dreamt of no matter how pissed at him you were before.

He holds your jaw gently. "Don't do this to us, ever again." Us... She couldn't do this ever again, because she did miss his touch as much as he did and she was so close to give up may times, but her pride put her in place. She didn't have the proper words to answer him, so her lips found his once more.

— 𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐬

✧ @gay-noble @vanicogh @hopeless-romanticnamed-s @idktbhloley @p1nkliquor @hellokittykuroo @batboob @kisskissshutmydoor @lemonrolls @hoku-killer @sunukissed @jessiegerl @lunalily19 @i7zha @asrainterstellar @arimoony24 @simp-lythebest @fan-g0rl​ @randobeetlehouse​​ @glomp-me @yeeyeebabe @maackiimoo @kaelysian @noendingtolove @luminaaz @thewendyslogo @eri0-0 @arielbillyboy16 @aangsupremacy​ @yuriklol​ @lillunna @lostsomewhereinthegarden @chocorenchin  @sukcama @bratb1tch @topmeyelena

[drdemonprince]

Do you have any favourite scary movies?

I love the ambiguity and grief of The Orphanage, and the main character's emotional journey is absolutely gutting.

The Strangers has some of the most subtle, dread-inducing scares of any horror film of its era; if you liked the hidden ghosts in Mike Flanagan's Haunting of Hill House, it owes some inspiration to this film, I think. It truly gave me nightmares.

The newer Suspiria has really stayed with me, and I loved Flawed Peacock's analysis of the film on Youtube as well. I watched both this and the original back-to-back a few months ago, and they're both great in different ways, but nothing tops the haunting, sickening beauty of the end of this one.

28 Days Later is the only zombie movie for me, and yes part of that is because Cillian Murphy was so fuckable in it. I'll never forget the quiet, contemplative air of this movie, which is rivaled only by The Last of Us games. The zombie genre is bloated with derivative crap, but this movie rang in a whole new generation, and did it so well you don't need most of the rest.

The original Saw is a hell of a stage-play-slash-bottle-episode, and it's far more sophisticated in its writing than any of the rest in the series. It really holds up in my opinion.

The Cell isn't really that scary, to me, but it's fucking cunty as hell with incredible costumes and set pieces, and I enjoyed every minute of it. Bonus points for having a minor corruption/hypnosis aspect really tickled my imagination. I just wish that element had lasted for longer.

Speaking of movies that are actually plays -- there's no better Stephen King adaptation than Misery. Kathy Bates absolutely crushes in a nauseating, confining performance here, and the hobbling scene is one you just never forget. To me it's a perfectly paced film, and it holds up shockingly well in the era of stans and superfandoms.

Ghost Ship is my favorite bad stupid horror movie. The opening scene is enough creative nonsense carnage to justify its existence, but stick around through the end for a very weird trip-hop montage.

Dead Silence is another goofy one that gets really inventive with its gore. I love horror movies that do just downright disrespectful, creepy shit with corpses, and that's what this one is all about.

The Boy is a fucking laugh riot to me. The entire premise is so transparent from the very beginning and the thrills are so awkward and tame that it's a great Halloween party movie. If you're anything like me, you and your friends will walk around the house talking about the Boy for days afterward. Brahms is an age regressor king

Some people find Aronofsky's movies to be too over-the-top to connect with, but I think he nailed the internal horror of perfectionism, codependency, sexual repression, and eating disorders with Black Swan. Barbara Hershey's character is so perfectly unsettling that it sets all my people-pleasing, abandonment-fearing issues alight every time. Everything about this movie is confining and distorting, which is exactly how it feels inside when you narrow your entire life to a singular pursuit and are governed by impossible rules.

The Others has exactly what I need for a horror movie to have good replay value: just like The Orphanage, it's final reveal is more depressing and unsettling than it is pure scary, which makes it cut deeper, and it recontexualizes the whole rest of the film. The interiors and aesthetics are great.

Possession is easily the most disturbing movie on this list. This one cuts deep in a confusing, unmooring way -- it makes you feel sick in your soul, hopeless, and put off from relationships. Filming it reportedly ruined Sam Neil & Isabelle Adjani's lives for a good while, and you can see why. This film is the psychological reality of divorce in its unabashed form. To really leave behind a life you once committed yourself to, you have to become almost unrecognizable to yourself, and do great violence to both your former self, and the ones you love. This film gets that, and it's painful. It makes you feel disgusting for wanting things or for staying in a place where you're unhappy.

Happy watching!

[msilwrites]

John Price's Home

✨ John Price’s Home - My Sims 4 Take 🎮

Hi, everyone! 👋 Remember how I mentioned in the A/N of my last chapter that the house described was inspired by @eleu22's moodboard for John Price’s home? Well, I loved it so much that I had to try my hand at bringing it to life—in The Sims 4! 😂

For those who might not remember, the A/N was from Chapter 11 of my Papa Bear Material story. It’s the chapter where John brings you to his home for the first time to spend the weekend together as a couple. That chapter was such a special turning point in their relationship, and I wanted to make sure the house really captured the warmth, cosiness, and charm of John’s character.

Whilst reading this, I want you to imagine John Price taking you here 😈—his home, his space, his rules. Just picture it: the cozy fireplace crackling, the scent of whisky lingering in the air, and that intense look he gives when it’s just the two of you. Go on, let your mind wander to the things he’d do… because trust me, he’s thought about it too.

This is my interpretation of what Captain Price’s home might look like, from the cozy interior to the overall vibe. I was inspired by @eleu22's vision—their moodboard really hit the spot! While I agreed with much of their design, I also put my own spin on it, tweaking it to suit how I imagine the Captain’s space.(So it’s more “inspired by” than a full recreation!)

Here’s a breakdown of what you’ll see:

📍 Structure - So, let’s start with the foundation of the place. The floors are a mix of old vintage tiles and polished hardwood—well-maintained and perfectly worn in with years of use, especially after John renovated the place. The walls? They’re made of rustic stone and sturdy brick, well-structured and kept in excellent condition. Captain Price inherited the house from his grandparents, and during his renovations, he made sure to preserve its warmth and charm while adding his own personal touch. You can almost feel the history and legacy of his family in every corner, a tribute to the generations that have lived here.

📍 Living Room - Warm, inviting, and just the right amount of rugged charm—because you know Price would keep it comfortable but not overly fancy. He has a cast iron fireplace installed underneath the original one, something he added during renovations for practicality and efficiency. The room is filled with old furniture, lots of books, and pictures of his late family, reflecting a deep sense of nostalgia. Price inherited his cottage from his grandparents, who originally owned the place. He lives somewhere around Kingston or Richmond—not too far from Central London but close enough to enjoy the woodland charm of the outskirts.

There’s also a door in the living room that leads directly to the garden outdoor area, adding a touch of tranquillity to the cosy space.

On the other end of the room, you’ll find a collection of vinyl records, a player, and an amplifier. I can absolutely see Captain Price brooding on the couch over his plans with a whisky or bourbon in hand, maybe even smoking one of his nice cigars, as he listens to Annie Lennox’s “Money Can’t Buy It” or something from Tears for Fears, The Police, Sting, Duran Duran, John Waite, or Spandau Ballet classics. And when he’s feeling especially emo or introspective, maybe even some modern ones like Adele or Hozier.

Duran Duran’s “Come Undone” or “Ordinary World,” and Sting’s “Fields of Gold” or “Shape of My Heart” would absolutely be on his playlist when he’s in one of those pensive moods. (And yes, Adele and Hozier have vinyls of their albums, and oh boy, they sound so good!) 😍

📍 Kitchen - Functional and homey, with a touch of practicality that screams "This man cooks bacon in a cast-iron skillet." It’s a rustic space filled with lots of old items, including his grandparents' porcelain plates, some newer ones, and a vintage stove. There’s even a little porcelain chicken figurine that’s been there for ages—he finds it cute, so it’s staying. At the centre is a wooden counter island, usually covered in food, seasonings, garnishes, and maybe a bottle of whisky or two. This man makes a proper snack.

📍 Dining Room - The dining room exudes rustic charm, with another iron cast fireplace that doubles as an oven, perfect for cooking and grilling. Above the fireplace, a collection of herbs hangs, adding a fresh, earthy touch to the room. On the left side of the fireplace, there’s a sturdy hutch or cabinet, stocked with all sorts of fine spirits and selected wines. Next to it is a well-stocked drink cart, ready for any occasion.

On the counter, a cheese dome sits, showcasing a selection of his favourite cheeses, because this man is absolutely obsessed with cheese. Under the cabinet, there’s a collection of different glasses for various types of alcohol. Two framed vintage posters hang on the wall—one detailing British cheeses and the other offering basic cheese knowledge, both adding a touch of humour and character to the space.

An old chandelier hangs above the center of the room, casting a warm, soft light, completing the intimate, cozy atmosphere.

📍 Bedroom - A simple but intimate space that feels like a retreat after long missions. The room features a cosy, old queen-size bed with vintage charm. At each end of the bed, there’s an old end table. One holds a book and a tray of water, while the other has a tablet, probably for late-night reading or catching up on work. A dresser sits nearby, topped with a vase of fresh flowers and an old replica painting of a famous artwork. At the foot of the bed is a comfy ottoman, perfect for kicking back after a long day, and an old chair is positioned beside the bed, as if ready for quiet moments of reflection. A large window lets in plenty of sunlight, warming up the room with natural light and creating the perfect atmosphere for relaxation.

📍 Study - The door to Captain Price’s study is cleverly disguised as a bookshelf. It’s the perfect example of understated secrecy—who would’ve guessed that behind the shelves of books lies one of his most brooding spaces? A place for the Captain to retreat and get even more pensive.

Against one wall, there’s a shelf where his most precious drinks and cigars are kept, along with a stash of biscuits and cookies (because, yes, he’s got a sweet tooth—don’t let the gruff exterior fool you). All of this is strictly for his own enjoyment, mind you—no sharing.

His main desk, made of dark wood, is set up with the kind of tech Simon—his favourite, and let’s face it, only tech-savvy lieutenant—would be proud of. Simon installed a desktop computer, added extra memory and a camera for his calls, and even set him up with a high-quality mic. He even picked out a nice pair of headphones for those brooding music sessions, where Captain Price likes to sip whisky, smoke cigars, and disappear into his thoughts. And just for extra fun, Simon also set up his music app account. (Yes, Captain Price still insists on listening to his vinyls downstairs, but hey, he’s trying with the tech stuff.)

In the corner, there’s a telescope pointed toward the window. When the Captain wants to look at the stars (or brood about something—again), he’s got a perfect view. This too was set up by Simon. Why Simon? Well, because he's Captain Price’s favourite lieutenant, of course—or, more accurately, his favourite IT support. Remember that time in the game when Kyle asked, “Why can’t it be you instead of me going in?” when they were about to assault a location? Price just casually responded with, “That’s why they call me Captain and you Sergeant.” Same deal with Simon—though in this case, Simon got a nice haul of rare whisky, bourbon, cheeses, and, naturally, cookies, all for setting up tech in one go. And when Price calls him in for IT support, Simon always tries to act like he’s somewhere else, hiding from the task, but we all know he secretly enjoys it (and the perks, obviously).

Books. There are lots of books on the tall bookshelf, as the Captain likes to read—mostly military thrillers, obviously, but don’t be surprised to find a few spy novels by John le Carré or Frederick Forsyth hidden in there. The shelf isn’t just limited to that genre, though. You’ll also find a collection of cookbooks (because, yes, Price can cook!), fishing guides, gardening books, and even some on carpentry—because he’s always been handy with his hands. Atop the bookshelf sits a vintage typewriter in a glass case—his grandparents’ typewriter, which he keeps as a display piece. It’s a touch of nostalgia, a little piece of his past that he can’t quite let go of.

Next to the bookshelf is a small study table with his laptop. This is where the Captain taps away at his keyboard, writing stories in his downtime. (Who knew, right? Captain Price, aspiring writer, channeling his inner Andy McNab.) Maybe one day, when he’s feeling confident, he’ll share a manuscript with someone—just don’t expect it to be anytime soon.

📍 Garden/Outdoor Area - Lush, peaceful, and perfect for a man who appreciates some fresh air and quiet moments. It’s filled with trees, shrubs, and greenery, and there’s even a small stretch of the River Thames running behind the property—a little slice of tranquility amidst the chaos of life.

I had so much fun building this and imagining every little detail. I hope you enjoy this peek into what I think John Price’s home might look like—Sims 4 style! Let me know your thoughts, and if you’ve got your own interpretations, I’d love to see them! And if you’d like me to do one for another character, drop your suggestions in the comments below! 🏡✨

[theoneandonlylobster]

"Even my early fics, from before the show ended or the six months afterward, still get sooooo many kudos on AO3.

So I definitely have, even disregarding that I've been posting meta and analyses the whole time as well."

Wow! It's so cool to meet someone who has been active in ATLA fandom before the show even ended.

So I have to ask, what was fandom like in the lead up to Sozin's Comet and the early months afterwards? Have any fandom trends or headcanons persisted today? I am particularly interested in what people thought about Azula since it seems like fandom's opinions on her underwent a massive shift after the Netflix revival.

Did people think she suffered from long-term mental health issues like the Yang comics eventually canonized, or was her insanity just stress induced psychosis? Did they see her as product of nature or nurture?

Also, what did people think about how the process of de-colonization and de-Sozination would go? Did fandom's consensus map onto what was eventually canonized in the comics and roleplaying game?

Finally, what did people think Aang's reincarnation would be like, as well as the world they would inhabit? Did any of fandom's headcanons end up being reflected in Korra, and if so, to what degree?

Hey, sorry that it took so much time to respond to this! My health has been very... eh.

What was fandom like in the lead up to Sozin's Comet?:

So there was a lot of frustration aimed at Nickelodeon because they'd aired everything up to DoBS and then randomly stopped for over seven months, after holding onto S3 for nearly ten months to begin with. In fact, the following episodes were released on DVD before they even aired on TV:

- The Western Air Temple

- The Firebending Masters

- The Boiling Rock (both parts!)

So there was a ton of discourse about spoilers as well, and if you look back at fics from 2008-2009 people will warn about spoilers for those episodes if relevant.

It was probably the worst time to be an Avatar fan, except possibly during S4 of Korra, which Nick wouldn't air at all and instead just released online, because of those wacky homosexuals.

Have thoughts on Azula changed?

I actually answered another ask about that here!

Did people think her mental health issues would be long-term?

I certainly did, though I have permanent mental health issues myself, so that could be an influence! I think the general take at the time was yes. If people tried to diagnose her, they often went to schizophrenia, although at the time, you had to be 18 irl to receive that diagnosis if your provider was using the current DSM? (That changed in 2013.) I personally think if she "has" anything, she's more schizoaffective + C-PTSD + a dissociative disorder of some kind. But I'm open to takes of it being a one-off stress induced psychotic break as well.

Was she considered a product of nature or nurture?

I feel like I was pretty alone in considering it to be largely nurture at the time. I wasn't actually alone, but the fandom at large definitely viewed her as an irredeemable psychopath by and large. Actually, Bryke mentioned in an interview in like 2010 or so that it was explicitly intended to be nurture, but were largely ignored. Maybe it was the first edition of the art book?

How did people think decolonization/de-Sozinification would go?

I don't recall this really being even thought of in-depth until The Promise released. The idea of colonialism and indigenous rights hadn't really permeated the fandom before that, probably due to both the overall young age it encompassed at the time, as well as those being newer concepts at the time. If you read a lot of early fanfic that goes into post-canon, it's either really vague, or the politics don't hold up at all. Not universally true, but the vast majority.

How did people imagine Aang's reincarnation and their era? Were any of these thoughts borne out in Korra?

Most fic focused exclusively on Aang. I didn't see much speculative "previous/future Avatar" genre fic until Korra basically made it a thing. However, everyone was pretty taken aback at the rapid industrialization and leap in technology that Korra portrayed, as I recall. In fact, that's still a (less common) criticism today.

I enjoy your fic a lot, btw!

[randomstuffithinkkof]

Some Jod Na Nawood thoughts. So spoiler alert for those who haven't seen Skeleton Crew yet.

So we don't know where he's from just that according to him, the air there tasted "like ash and dust". To me that implies that either a) his home planet was devastated by war regardless of whether it was the clone wars that devastated it or some other local war (either planetary civil war or between them and a neighboring planet) that we don't know about yet or b) possibly a planet with a lot of seismic activity, volcanoes and the like, but not to the level of say Mustafar.

Now based on what he's said about his past, which yes he could be lying but based on the emotional state he was in at the time of his saying anything about it to any of the kids I don't think he was, my guess is that firstly, he wasn't literally living in a hole in the ground but rather somewhere so run down and decrepit it might as well have been. In addition to that, he'd mentioned that he was just trying to not starve when he was around the kids age. To me, this suggests that it was likely the former of the two theories on his planet. Now why would someone that young be living in a "hole in the ground" place and be desperately trying to not starve? Again, to me that suggests that his planet had been devastated by war. In addition the fact that he'd stated that "all I've ever had was scraps" I think it's highly likely that there's a few things that can be inferred from that. I think it's likely that either a) he was an orphan, b) he was abandoned by his parents in order to keep themselves alive, c) he had siblings and because of that food was scarce within the family, or d) his parents hadn't abandoned him but they didn't actually care for him. Let's face it, most good parents would rather go hungry themselves than let their kids go hungry.

Now for my own thoughts on his age since we don't have a canon age for him yet. So we know that he was found by a jedi who'd survived order 66 as it was stated that she was hunted down soon after she'd found Jod. We also know that Jod mentioned that he'd been around the kids age when the jedi had found him. My own guess for the kids age is around 10-12 years old, so I'd say that he was likely between 10 to maybe 14 at the absolute maximum when the jedi found Jod. We know that Skeleton Crew takes place roughly 5 years after ROTJ and we also know that between the end of ROTS and ROTJ roughly 23-24 years passed, so that's roughly 28-29 years total that he has to at least be. Now if we were to take the high end of the kids age estimate of 12 and add that to the previous, we get that Jod would be around 40-41 years old which would fit. Yes he looks older than that, but we do need to remember that stress, trauma, and generally abusing yourself can cause you to age prematurely. Jod is literally a pirate in addition to the trauma of losing his jedi master (and potentially feeling guilt at not being able to save her/feeling he'd held her back and thus contributed to her death) and being forced to watch and whatever else he went through as a kid to where he described it as him living in a hole in the ground trying to not starve. Like we all know that as a pirate, he would've had the stress of not getting caught by the law, even during the days of the Empire as we know they sent out patrols to go after pirates and would capture pirates if they came across them from the newer Thrawn trilogy. In addition, once he became a captain he would need to deal with the stress of ensuring his crew didn't commit mutiny on him. Now if you've been into pirates, the legends of most pirates burying their treasure usually isn't something that's done. Most pirates spend their treasure as soon as they get to the next port often on food, alcohol, or company or some of them may have even spent some of it on gambling. We saw plenty of options at Borgo Prime. Obviously, we don't know what Jod spent any treasure on when he had any but whatever he did spend it on if he abused himself with it by overindulging far too often (especially if they were more addictive) could've taken a toll. These factors could have caused a fair bit of premature aging much like we see with Obi-Wan.

This would put him roughly in the same age group as Ahsoka. The question is why was he not found until he was 10+ years old. A few theories I've been pondering are either a) he didn't have a high enough midichlorian count for the jedi to consider him as a potential jedi before the purge happened, b) he was on a planet that was far enough out, possibly far reaches of the outer rim or even into wild space, that the jedi didn't often go there (putting him in a similar position to Anakin in Phantom Menace) and the jedi who found him had been forced out that far because of the need to hide, or c) he possibly had the innate, unconscious ability to hide his own force signature. The third would possibly explain why they didn't just end him after they'd forced him to watch his master die.

I've also seen takes on how his "galaxy is dark with a few small pinpricks of light" worldview is the pessimist/glass-half empty view. While I won't say it isn't, I also feel that that is the viewpoint of someone who is hopeless, all of their hopes and dreams have been crushed. Instead of attempting to ensure that, even if he himself had lost hope/been discouraged acknowledging that there are good people out there and there were more to be born in the future he didn't crush one of those hopeful good people into what he's become. That's not what he does, instead he tries to get them to see the world how he sees, likely because ever since his jedi master died he hasn't been able to imagine anyone being kind, being good to him and he's in a way, trying to get them to see that way without them having to fully go through what he did. It's still not nice of him to do nor is it coming from a particularly good place either.

[nalyra-dreaming]

I totally agree about viewer reactions being a 'reality check' of sorts, mostly in a good way. Casual fans don't always have the most thoughtful takes but they're open-minded and seem to be having a blast. They're happy to let the story unfold and let the characters develop, and they aren't obsessed with moralizing or forcing their own agenda or weird grudges onto the text. There's a group of very vocal newer fans who are extremely preachy and joyless, and for the last two years they've been insisting they represent how the "general audience" feels about the story and the characters (not all new fans are like this ofc it's just that the most annoying voices are always the loudest) but it turns out these fans are the real outliers. I know it's normal for dedicated fans to be more intense and stubborn in their opinions/expectations, or to hyperfixate on details - I'm guilty of this too! And there's certainly nothing wrong with being passionate or analyzing the show in-depth, but watching some of these reaction channels has been a timely reminder to me that it's also healthy to take a step back sometimes and just have fun! I could never be casual about the show, but I def need to disengage from the discourse more sometimes!

Same. That's why I stay more or less "in my lane" these days^^. I follow a lot of people and my timeline is made up of a lot of different stuff, but I make an effort not to look too closely at discourse anymore.

And yes, the reactions or even watchalongs were a real breath of fresh air, tbh. I got a few recommendations, and then looked through a few others and ... well. Let's just say those fans you speak of do NOT represent the general audience, lol.

But it's also weird that they picked this show to get high on the morality horse on, because... this is the VC. ... I would say: "good luck" :)))

[veroniquesboutique]

Kinktober Day 17 - Body Modifications & Spanking

For Kinktober day 17!

Shikamaru Nara x AFAB!Reader

Content warnings: AFAB!reader, female reader, stranger sex, protected/condom, spanking, tattoos/piercings, oral f-receiving, PV sex (missionary), uptight mother, badboy!Shikamaru, undefined age gap, pet names (darling), explicit consent

18+ Minors DNI

More under the cut!

You trace the dark lines of each image that decorates the tan skin on his arms. The tattoos flex and bend every time he moves, and when you finally glance back up at his face, he’s grinning down at you, watching you mesmerized by the art bled into his being. The bright light of the room glints off the metal bedazzled into his face. 

“My mother would hate you,” you laugh softly, turning your attention back to tracing the patchwork designs on his skin, moving from his arm to his thigh, just above the knee. You’ve cuddled yourself into the crook of his arm, and his own fingers are softly trailing your unadorned skin on your upper arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. A laugh falls from his lips, but you’re distracted from the sound by the light that bounces off the metal in his mouth, on his tongue.

“Yeah, I’ve never been one to bring home,” He sighs out the air in his lungs at the end, watching your hands on his legs. “But that’s never really been my goal.”

You were new to college, having left your small hometown for a university in the big city a few hours away much to your mother’s chagrin, but you were even newer to picking up random, older men from the bar. Yet, just a few hours ago, you were a few tequila shots deep when this man who generally looked like bad news was making eyes across the bar at you. The liquid courage sloshing around inside of you coaxed you over to him, and as you pulled out the barstool next to him, he gave you an impressed and intrigued look through his long eyelashes.

“You keep looking at me. What gives?” Your words slurred even as you tried your hardest to stay clear and enunciated, and it made the mystery man giggle.

“You’re just cute,” He let his eyes slide up and down you body, making you feel hot, “Plus, you’re asking for trouble in a place like this looking like that.”

“That’s a gross thing to say.”

“I’m saying it because I’m not the only guy who has had his eyes on you all night,” He glanced around the room, and you suddenly felt like there were a million eyes watching your every move, like prey in the dark, dense jungle.

“I think I should go home,” You mumbled and tried to stumble out of your chair, but the stranger grabs your arm before you can leave.

“That’s the worst possible option right now,” he ushered you back into your seat and waved over the bartender. “I’m going to get you some water, and we’re going to sit here until you’ve sobered up. Then you can go home.”

And that’s what you did. You and this stranger - you learn through conversation that his name is Shikamaru - sat and talked for hours, only drinking water and chewing nervously through a whole bowl of salted peanuts. His voice would grovel a chuckle out when you told jokes, and it would make your face flush with a blush and a smile. He told you about what he does, what he did before, what he wants to do after, and every word to fall from his mouth was so interesting. And he treated every word to fall from your mouth like gospel, paying attention to you and only you as you told your own stories. Soon, the lights came on in the bar, it was closing time, and you were fully sobered up, so when he asked if you wanted a ride home on his bike, you felt fully comfortable asking if he wanted to come home with you.

Since a dorm room wasn’t exactly the most glamorous option, you two decided to go back to his place.

Now, you lay with him, cuddled in his bed, no move having been made yet between the two of you, and the sun will likely start peeking over the horizon soon, but you have no desire to sleep or leave or stop whatever you have going on with this man.

Your mom would really hate this.

Continued on AO3...

[solarsonicsoda]

Rating 500+ Theme Tunes - #18: X-Men: Evolution

There's more than one X-Men show you know! X-Men: Evolution is the 2000s take on the mutant team, and it looks shockingly different just a few years later! This show started in 2000, what's with the large shift in resolution? But this new take follows some familiar mutants and some newer faces as they balance life with their heroic ways. Where the original show had the likes of Jubilee and Gambit, Evolution has Nightcrawler and Shadowcat. It's X-Men for an all new generation!

As I said, this show began in 2000 and ran to 2003, primarily as part of the Warner Bros. line-up. But it was aired as recently as 2011 on Disney XD, which is wild for a show that I feel isn't ridiculously well remembered. Good for them! You'll have to let me know if this was a classic in your household though, because it seems like one of many superhero shows of the time.

As may be implied, I was not really familiar with this show. However, I really like the way it looks! I like the art style and the animation I saw through this intro looked pretty expressive! Is this show good? Again, all my X-Men: Evolution fans will have to let me know. It seems nice, and I'd be interested in checking it out sometime. I miss the super 90s vibes, but I like the super 2000s vibes too! Let's get to the theme!

X-Men: Evolution Theme Song

I actually think this is a really sound theme! I think it maintains that cool, mysterious vibe of the original show, but with a totally different sound! Big fan of the guitar riffs and the little rises and falls of it! I don't know what you call that! It's not exactly a transcendent theme, but I think it's a really solid and fun superhero theme! Just the right style to hype me up for some fantastical action and fun! Another good song!

A theme that draws from what came before it whilst doing its own thing, even if it's nothing out of this world. I enjoy it a good deal, so I think this one is gonna earn a B!

Stay tuned for more and be sure to send in any suggestions for other shows you'd like to see done (after the 500 already in the pipeline that is). Check out the intro to this series here, and check out the tier list.

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗦 𝗥𝗢𝗖𝗞 - part four max verstappen x fem! driver! reader (fluff) series summary . . . when the lives of an f1 and WEC prodigies collide, they find out they find out that they’re not that different and carve out a place for themselves in each other's hearts. the commentators from Sky Sports call this Lovers Rock.

( fic master list | general master list ) ( previous | next )

Y/N Halimi-L/N chats with Martin Brundle on his DREAM F1 debut 🏎️🐅

"One more lap, tsunoda ahead in p10. push for q3." "heard." You mumbled back on the radio, preparing for one more qualifying lap to be a part f the top ten. You've never raced in jeddah before as it was one of the newer circuits and you'd long left formula 2 by then.

But the track wasn't too difficult to figure out. Sure the track is challenging, especially since FP3 wasn't enough to learn the car and that you still indeed are learning the track. Qualifying laps were ok, no real battles yet, just against the clock which gave you peace of mind.

The sim helped a little, not as much as the fact that you'd be teammates with charles again or the fact that Lando has a good car and would be near you throughout the race, battening you or not. On top of that, the only reason you're going through with the race (like you had a choice anyways) is max.

You'd subconsciously called Max after Fred Vasseur broke the news to you, making him the first person to know and the first person so far this half weekend to give you real tips and advice about the circuit, going as far as staying up with you the other night after inviting you to his room to practice on his sim.

"Well done, Y/N, that is P9. P9." You heard your race engineer beep in your ears as you crossed the finish line. "WO! Q3!" "Line up so far is: verstappen, leclerc, alonso, piastri, russel, perez, norris, tsunoda, you, stroll." "Tsunoda? I thought he P10? Did i not knock him out?" "No, that was—" "Oh my god, it's john wick." you gasped once realizing. "Who?" "I eliminated lewis, didn't i?" "Confirmed. Yes." "Oh my god."

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Hello, Y/N.” You smiled, giving a nod to return the greeting. “You’ve had an amazing debut thus far. How are you feeling?” You laughed, shrugging. “I woke up this morning thinking I’d be chillaxing back in the hospitality and drinking barbican while watching the red cars. Never expected that I’d be in one of the cars. But uh, we had a good qualifying. Q3 is good for the team and hopefully, we’ll have a good pace tomorrow.”

“It is a very remarkable debut,” “It is.” You agreed nodding, brushing your hair back. “I mean, I knew I’d be driving an F1 car at some point or another. I’m glad it was a night race. I’ll do my best to seize the moment and maximize the opportunity,” you quote, joking, making the interviewer laugh. “And we’ll see where tomorrow takes us.” “Very nice, Y/N.” “Thank you-” looked back, feeling someone put a hand on your shoulder.

Max could visibly see you relax upon realizing it was him. He found the smile that rose on your face too cute. “Q3, I taught her.” He joked, making you laugh. “Which position?” “P6.” Max made an impressed face nodding. “Hands off my teammate.” Charles shooed Max, pushing him away. You watched, trying to hold in your laugh.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“There was something in the air that night, the stars so bright, fernando.” You sang as you hugged the spaniard. “youre going to sing that every time you see me." He laughed, hugging you back and patting your back. “its tradition." You reminded him as the two of you pulled away. He ruffled your hair, cupping the back of your head. “P6?” He asked, smiling. You shrugged, smiling. “just stay behind me." “very funny, nando."

You waved him goodbye as bid a farewell, going to his car. You unlocked your phone as you walked the other way, scrolling through your contacts as you looked around, searching for a certain honda. You don’t remember the license plate so finding your ride back was difficult, especially since there were so many cars in a lot of colors and expensive models.

‘Where are you?’ You send the text message, looking around the parking lot. You were answered with a light flicker. Max’s car wasn’t too far, he’d turned his lights on and off as a signal for you. He wasn’t too far, so you made a jog for it, opening the car door and getting in the passenger seat, and placing your backpack between your feet. 

Max started the car, pulling out of the parking lot. Since you accidentally spent the night at his, and the two of you were already staying at the same hotel and you didn’t rent a car out for the weekend, Max figured: why not carpool? “Seat Belt.” the blond reminded you as the car neared the exit of the parking lot. You did catch what he said, distracted by looking out at the other driver’s who were finding their own cars.

“hm?” instead of repeating himself, max reached and buckled you up himself, smoothly merging into traffic, using blinkers and abiding the laws. You blushed, leaning your elbow on the door and watching him out of the corner of your eyes. It was a long day and you were tired. Still jet lagged, you made the mistake of waking up early to venture around unknowing that you'd be driving twice. And now that the main anxiety drilling events were over, the sleep and rest you needed was catching up to you.

Max lowered the music from the radio once he noticed your low energy and slow blinking. He'd been taking glances in your direction, keeping track of you slowly dozing off. When he parked the car at the hotel, you were totally asleep. It took max a few seconds of theorizing on what to do next before going into action.

He didn’t want to wake you up, so with two backpacks on, he managed to get you up on your feet so he could carry you. You were only half asleep when he gently and slowly opened the door, catching your elbow so you don't fall. with half opened eyes, you looked at him confused as he pulled your backpack on before unbuckling your seat.

You let him hold your hands and help you get out, before gently wrapping your arms around his neck and lifting you up into his chest. He kicked the door shut before carrying you away. You leaned your head on his shoulder falling back into slumberland. 

it was a shame you weren't awake to witness the journey up to his room. Max had somehow signaled a staff worker over, making him take out the wallet from his back pocket and unlock the entrance from the garage to the building, and once again to unlock the door to his room.

The truly memorable part was when Max set you on his bed. After taking your shoes off and covering you with the blanket, the dutch gently brushed your hair in a ponytail he found in your bag. When he tried to pull away, to get himself asleep on the couch, you'd held his hand in your sleep.

Max felt like he was frozen in place as if one of his cats fell asleep on him and he couldn't move so as to not wake them up. He knelt down on the floor, brushing his thumb against your cheek where you held his hand. You looked so peaceful and adorable that it took Max around 10 minutes of contemplation before slipping in bed with you where you welcomed him by hugging him and clinging onto him.

The smile and blush that covered his cheeks as he hugged and cuddled you back, stayed on his face through the night. The best sleep he's ever had.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“The nostalgia,”  “It's like a copy paste.” the two commentators laughed. “Just look at her driving style as well, she's aggressive but not over the line, shouting" I'm here, I'm going to overtake, and you can’t do anything about it.” Their explanation was on point. You got straight to the point. You caught up, intimidated, saw a gap and went for it. P6 to P3 with a good chunk of the race left. Max and Charles were ahead by a few points and it took you a few laps to catch up. Staying behind the fellow ferrari, you stayed on his tail within a half second distance.

Once you took corner #27 and the DRS was applicable, You were past Charles and chasing Max in the red bull.

Post dive bombing max into turn one, and over taking him, you lead a difficult 4 laps where the dutch was breathing down your neck. You genuinely felt scared because he was in your mirrors the whole time, like playing tag with an adult and they laugh evilly which makes it feel real and you start screaming and actually running for your life.

Max did eventually take his P1 back and you stayed behind him. Unfortunately, under team orders, you had to switch with Charles and give him the P2 once he caught up. You looked up once someone came up from behind you, patting your back. “Rickey, when I catch you, rickey.” You laughed as you took your helmet off, watching Max go off for his post race interview. “Nice driving,” You turned, smiling at Charles and returning the fistbump. “Nice breaking.” you returned the compliment.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

not two steps in the room and max had cupped his hand under your chin and pulled you in a for a kiss. You were defiantly suppressed, not getting the chance to at least find the light switch or put the trophy down somewhere. You kissed back eagerly, a small hum leaving your throat as the two of you made out.

Max must have been continuing where you left off in the morning with how hungry and eager he seemed. Since waking up tangled in each other, the moment led to a kiss and another and another. You never realised how attracted you were to max, how he made you feel.

Dropping your bag, you used your free hand tp tangle your fingers in the hair at his nape, letting him tilt your head with the grip he hand on your chin to deepen the kiss. "I've been waiting all day." he mumbled before leaning in for another kiss.

[multiselves]

As a non-radqueer I'm so sorry that anti-radqueers are being assholes about multiself. That's not even what reclaiming is, they're misusing that word

It's nice to know that someone gets it and understands what reclamation actually is, especially someone outside of the rqc. It's a breath of fresh air. I'm not surprised that it's happening, but antis will be antis /resignedly affectionate

I think my biggest gripe with the situation is mainly just how certain beings feel almost entitled to the label just because the coiner (me) happens to be pro transid.

Nobody owns labels. Labels are free use. You cannot buy a concept, you cannot trademark an experience, you cannot claim possession of an identity. It's bizarre to try and "steal" something that we all own. Multiself is a descriptor as lesbian is a descriptor, it would be ludicrous to try and push proship lesbians away from the lesbian identity. However because multiself is a newer term, beings for some reason think this is up for debate

I could talk for hours about this tbh. Not just in relation to multiselves, but just the general state of the internet when it comes to labels and flags. I think the community has much more pressing issues such as exclusionism, transphobia, amatonormativity, etc; but this culture in particular is a pet peeve of mine

[lackablazeical]

I know in Usagi’s ref sheet he’s 16 (not sure if he’s been aged up because of all the art), but you’d drawn some art of Usagi with artistic nudity as well. Remembering back to that one really fun thing where you had us pick how Usagi spends a day, he said that he felt “dirty” and felt Leo’s hands on him, before it switched to bugs, and he seemed to have marks on him, plus the art of all the bites and what I can assume are nonsexual(?) hickies??

Is Usagi a victim of SA?

His relationship with Leo seems to hint that at times, with Leo’s nonconsentual biting and repeated flirts, plus all the comments in the past in art with Ichida or Mikey saying Leo “takes Usagi’s belt off” or “Well I can’t just meow and spread my legs to get what I want”..

I might be reading too into it, but I love their dynamic and am trying to make a list of the psychology behind them and what really happens in their relationship, as most art seems to be behind rose colored glasses or from Leo’s manipulative point of view

OKAY SO.

When I originally made the AU, I was not a victim of sexual assault myself, and therefore did not feel that I had a right to represent an SA victim, especially one as a main character.

Usagi was originally just meant to be representative of an abuse victim/people pleaser having a lack of bodily autonomy and (bc of my own hatred and disgust of physical touch) I often project that into Usagi (the artistic nudity is bc 1. I don't think nudity is inherently sexual (or that anything is inherently sexual) 2. Usagi has a body type I love drawing and 3. It is a metaphor for how he's objectified and vulnerable, and also with an air of shame around his body, evoking body dysmorphia/dysphoria and purity culture)

I'm also aro/ace and autistic so my relationship to my own body, sexuality, nudity etc is not conventional and may not be popular but that is MY intent behind my art and not whatever anyone else says the intent is

WITH THAT BEING SAID, as my life did not stop after I made the AU, I eventually experienced sexual assault myself (1 out of 6 n all) and I will say, with my newer perspective, that if you want to view Usagi as an SA victim, that is completely fine and valid within the narrative. If you Don't want to, that is also completely fine.

Usagi is meant to be seen more as a representation of a lack of autonomy. Of course that lends itself to Leo assaulting Usagi, but this is also a lack of autonomy in his own life, body, relationships, etc.

The life of a gifted kid people pleaser, constantly bending to the whims of expectations and such. If that means he's an SA victim to you, he is. If that means he's trans to you, he is, if that means he's from the bronx to you, etc etc. Usagi kinda evolved be a vent character to me, so he can absolutely be that to yall 👌

The comments made by characters like Mikey or Ishida are generally non-canon now, they're a bit crass and almost. Just kicking Usagi when he's already down, which just feels like torture porn after a while. The hamatos see Usagi as 'Leo's thing' but that's simply objectification bc the turtles donr really see other people as People. I did that mostly as a form of bullying to myself, kinda cus I always feel Gross and projected that.

As for the rose colored glasses part, I agree. I adore contrasting themes/exaggeration/satire in art, so I love dark topics seen in cutesy/silly ways, often bc its much more accurate to how it can feel/look from the outside. A dizzy, serotonin laced kinda trance as your brain barely processes what is going on. I cut bc I get a kinda dopamine rush high from it so I put that perspective in my stuff often LMAO

I'd also be lying if I didn't say I loved Dreamalgia and their use of creepycute styles and aesthetics. Plus it lends to how Leo twists the narrative of their relationship in the AU and to the viewer (that's also why Usagi seems kinda 1 dimensional sometimes, Leo has made him a shell of his former self, before Leo Usagi was a lot more nuanced LOLZ)

If any of yall don't like that answer, that's fine, just unfollow me LMAO I truely don't mind how ppl HC about the AU so 👌 I'll keep making content that can be interpreted however anyone wants fr 💯

[spongebob-connoisseur]

Ngl season 15 of Spongebob has been significantly better than season 14 which is kinda funny because this isn't a *real* season 15. It's just the 2nd half of season 14. Regardless I have been liking it more.

Big League Bob, Sheldon Squarepants, Snow Yellow, Pinned, Dome Alone, Wary Gary, etc have been much more enjoyable than the latter half of season 13 and all of season 14. I know however I am biased so take my opinions with a grain of salt but I feel like most of season 14 is either made up of half hearted "sequel" episodes to classic episodes or characters exploring a new location but not much else done with it. Nothing has really clicked with me. On occasion there may be episodes with interesting plot ideas but they always seem to fall flat. I know people have complained that seasons 10-12 have been too expressive and "loud" but there was an attempt to make use of every second of the show and fill it up with gags. Even if not all of them land, there wasn't as much dead air as there is now. It honestly feels like they took fan advice and toned down the show now but now it feels hollow because nothing has really replaced those visual gags. So you end up with boring and monotonous episodes. Even the ones that have potential to be good end up feeling boring. It feels like they're trying too hard to play it safe, that it has become repetitive. Meanwhile The Patrick Star Show had absorbed all of the unique creativity of the show and has become better than the current show in many ways. I honestly end up enjoying it more. I'm getting off topic though.

One thing I had especially noticed was that I really missed Spongebob as a character. I know I have been going on with Slappy brainrot for the past few years but Spongebob has and always been my favorite character in the show. Slappy at this point is kinda tied with him but I feel like I've been neglecting my boy. But sometimes I feel like there's not much to be said about him that I have already said. I know when it comes to yapping about Spongebob, people tend to circlejerk the classic episodes and dunk on the middle seasons and I've done that all already. I feel like everything that can be said about those things have already been said. I have nothing else to add to that discussion. But at the same time time I feel like there was nothing substantial to be said about the character of Spongebob. I feel like he's grown into a background character in his own show. Used as a mascot character doing Spongebobisms but nothing actually substantial. (I mean how substantial can this be? This is a comedy children's cartoon after all)

I don't mind other characters getting the limelight. Squidward has been killing it in the most recent episodes, and unlike most folks, I like most of the newer characters and I don't mind the reuse of older characters and developing them and using them to build a more cohesive world. However I've always felt like something was missing. I felt too fatigued with Spongebob-brain/putting every single thought of mine into this blog/generally hyperfixating on all things Peter Lorre that I just didn't feel like digging into those feelings further. Now I feel a bit more refreshed I want to properly explain what I feel.

I miss Spongebob feeling like a well rounded character. This has been stated before especially talking about the classic seasons but I mean in general. Every season changes spongebob a bit. Whether to meet the popular comedic style of the decade so he stays fresh, or exaggerating him for comedic purposes, or just general different people working on him. I've grown to accept that Spongebob will always change in different eras of the show and I like that (most of the time). I have grown to accept "modern Spongebob" as his own character and I love him and how he interacts with characters. He has some differences from classic Spongebob but the familiarity is there and what I appreciate with him over middle seasons Spongebob was the fact that they were reinserting old character traits and dynamics that were forgotten with the middle seasons. It's never going to be exact but it is more familiar.

Now what is ""modern spongebob"" episodes are rounding close to a decade old, what is post sequel episodes. The current modern™ spongebob now would be post-spinoff spongebob or post-threequel Spongebob. There is a noticeable difference. Things are slowing down, things have felt less and less consistent since season 13. While seasons 10-12 definitely had it's misses, they felt more cohesive than what season 13 was putting out. I have my biases, I liked pretty unpopular episodes, I have bad taste I'll admit that. But especially towards the 2nd half of sesson 13 has felt like a slog. Of doing Spongebob things™ or what we expect of Spongebob rather than anything new and original. Both with the show and the character.

Of course how much could you do with a show that's 25 years old now? We have certain sets of expections for this show and what it can do. I think this is why The Patrick Show is currently having an advantage over the current show. There is no expectation for it. The fandom entirely rejects it. No matter what it will do, will be dunked on but that is also an advantage. There is no expectation on what it can or can't do. They can literally do anything, and that is exactly what they are doing. The show can be excessively morbid, grotesque, ridiculous, all around surrealist. Not having to adhere to any sort of logic. It creates an excessively cartoony show that perhaps may turn people off but has been growing a bit of a following now. Those who want to stay will stay and who doesn't, won't. It's excessively freeing, so the show manages to always feel fresh.

Meanwhile the current show feels like it's walking itself in circles trying to be as safe as possible. Doing what we expect of the characters and the show tropes, they begun to feel shallow, hollow. What is recognizably "Spongebob" on a surface level but nothing with feeling. Nothing that feels genuine. Kamp Koral had the exact same problem on TOP of all of the disadvantages of being a spinoff.

I'm not saying Spongebob needs to throw everything out and start from scratch, otherwise it wouldn't be "Spongebob". However especially with the character of Spongebob. He feels like a sheet. He's in the background as the "mascot" of the show but hardly a character. He does all what we expect him to do; loves his friends, annoys squidward, does his job. But there's nothing more. I've never thought I would find myself craving more. I miss how he'd interact with Patrick. I miss his friendship with Sandy, I miss something more.

When watching the Sandy movie, something stuck out to me. As Spongebob watches his town and his friends being kidnapped. The only one he calls out for and misses is Squidward. What of Gary? What of his best friend Patrick? Only Squidward? Does no one else matter to him? Obviously they do but he feels so single minded. I could'nt help but wonder if that's all?

I could say something similar with Patrick, I think he is the most noticeable especially when you're watching current Spongebob back to back with the current Patrick Show. I am glad they have undone jerky-Patrick from the middle seasons but they have hardly replaced it with anything else. When watching The Patrick Star Show, it is extremely striking how different the two of them are. He has a better range of emotions and interests. He feels more full in a way the main show Patrick just isn't. I don't expect Patrick to be a genius but he isn't enough to carry an episode. This is especially notable with Pet The Rock. I don't mind the whole "Oh you <3" lovable idiot thing they're doing with Patrick now but it's not enough. He's just a figure, like a silly pop up. He isn't enough of a person to last more than a few second gag.

This can extend to the spinoff characters whenever they appear in the main show. I've already yapped enough about Slappy. I don't mind characters who have one gag to tell. Rube is a guilty pleasure character. I like obnoxiously silly sweet characters but I wouldn't mind if they stay exclusively spinoff characters. The main show doesn't know what to do with them outside of letting the audience know what their "schtick" is, so it feels repetitive. In some cases feel like an outright caricatures of what they are compared to the spinoffs.

The more recent season 15 spongebob episodes are certainly not perfect. They feel slow and empty in some cases but it felt so nice to have an episode of just Spongebob in a situation where he has to actually act like a person. I'm sure none of you would find it even ""good"" because it feels so basic but I missed that. I missed Spongebob being a character, handling a situation, how he'd react, how he feels. I never thought I'd miss it so much but I do. I admit I have boring tastes but sometimes I like seeing how a character thinks or does things, even if it's not necessarily funny. (This is why I liked Slappy Daze so much, kill me)

It's not like this trait is incompatible with being funny. That's the next step. But humor takes exaggeration. You need to exaggerate characters to make funny scenarios which means sacrificing their depth for the scenario. Now the question I'd how much sacrifice does that take? This is often what people cite as the reason why the middle seasons are so bad compared to the classic seasons however this problem has begun with season 2. Season 1 may not have been as funny but it had the most character depth. Season 2 was when it began getting chipped away for humor but that does not make it bad. Season 2 is regarded as the best season of the whole show. They key is not to sacrifice too much depth for comedy otherwise you end up with shallow characters in insincere scenarios. There's nothing to hold onto, none of the gags land. It is empty.

The post sequel seasons did revive the show a bit by bringing back old traits as well as changing up the comedy style which refreshed the show. Now we are back at the issue of having chipped away at the characters too much. To refresh the show they have shifted focus to other characters who may have fresher stories to tell. In this case Squidward. I appreciate it but like I said I do end up missing Spongebob. Even when he's there, I feel like he's not.

I still love the show and the franchise. I'll watch new episodes even if they may not always satisfy me. The show is still comfort food for me but I genuinely wonder where this show will go from here. People have already begun calling season 14 is the new dark ages. I don't think so (I can actually sit through them without feeling annoyed unlike seasons 7-9A). But I also can't imagine where it will go from here or if I'll stick around long enough to see that.

[insipid-drivel]

Being disabled and actually starting to live a healthier lifestyle according to the nature of a disability can be so fucking hard.

I know I'm right on the cusp of my quality of life improving dramatically from multiple different factors coming into play recently, but until those things actually happen, all I can do is stay in bed and sit with myselves (DDNOS-1B; google it) while I resist the urge to crumble under all the years of lost opportunities due to my chronic pain and mobility needs.

Like... I know I'm disabled, and have been my whole life, but my journey has been rough as hell. Before I got approved for disability status legally, I couldn't really work despite trying for years to make it as a writer (yeah, I quit, for a lot of reasons), while begging my family to help me out with affording mobility devices.

It took me almost 5 years of pleading just to get my cane. My mom, being my only financial supporter at the time, only ever reacted like I was just being melodramatic. Until I finally got in her face and screamed at her, "I HURT ALL THE TIME BECAUSE I HAVE TO WALK WITHOUT A CANE!"

Another 5 years of begging and pleading for help, and I'm finally getting an electric wheelchair so I can stop pushing myself to walk altogether. A family friend is the owner of a wheelchair and mobility aid company that's not only responsible for some of those awesome offroad wheelchairs with tank treads on them, and he's been sourcing some of the newest and shiniest models of wheelchairs for me with financial assistance, too.

It's just that, now that it's actually in the works and happening, the first thing I have to do is wait. He asked me a lot of questions about my mobility needs and what I like doing that a chair could help me do more easily, and then went off to Miami to a floorshow debut of some even newer-generation, specialty wheelchairs he'll be stocking.

I'm not not excited. I want to be able to move without pain! Of course I want to go outside without worrying I'll fall or have no way to move if my sciatic nerve goes berserk on me! But now that I'm actively waiting for something that's gonna happen, that's actually going to happen...

I've never been more aware of how close my bedroom walls are. I hate asking family members to help me with basic tasks, or even helping me pick up something I knocked over and can't bend down to retrieve/clean up without godawful pain. I've been bedridden for weeks now with what's turned out to be Endometriosis Appearing In My Abdominal Muscles. My PCP has me on a good pain-plan while I wait to see a surgeon (I'm trans so it also doubles as bottom surgery for me yay), but I've never seen myself for how limited I actually am until the promise of more mobility became a reality, and it's really hard not to feel even more self-loathing than I already naturally do.

I'm also angry. Angry that it took so many years of literally crying for help with mobility aids before anyone in my own family took me seriously, while simultaneously wondering why I rarely ever left my room, or even got out of bed, for almost a decade.

At least I have one escape hatch: The DDNOS-1B. I may be in a lot of pain, but Alex has been a champ at fronting for me for hours on end and greying out my senses so I can move around a little more comfortably with less pain medication, get a handful of tiny things done, and getting me fresh air. Sometimes he'll just sit there in front in order to force my perception of time to move faster.

I cannot wait to finally go outside in the sun again when my chair arrives. But until then, I keep remembering the words of Nando Parrado when he was trapped in the Andes and facing despair: "Suffer for a little longer."