#just for him to be as bad a father as he was a husband

[goldsbitch]

Home is where Dad's car is

One of Lando's twins dramatically announces she's running away from home. This turns his afternoon into a Monaco rescue mission.

this is inspired by a comment from @ynbutbetter on the Blink Once story and me completely misreading it

warning: none, domestic, light-hearted stand alone part of Norris Family Polaroids

Jumping back into work again has been a relief and burden at the same time. The ten-year-old twins are relentless and Y/N, with all the help she had due to Lando's comfortable financial situation, wanted to be part of both motherhood and career as much as she could.

She's received a lot of strange emails in her life. This one is about to rule them all.

From: Olivia Norris To: Mom & Dad CC: (no one, because traitors exist)

Subject: I Am Leaving. Do Not Try to Stop Me.

Dear Mother and Father,

by the time you read this, I will be gone. Away forevr. Please do not be sad (I know this will be difficult).

I have thought long and hard about this decision—at least ten whole minutes—and I have realized that I can no longer stay. I love you both (most of the time but Dad you really made me sad this time) but I have to follow my own path now

Do not try to find me.

Tell Maya that she is now the oldest child. This is a great responsibility. I hope she is ready.

Stay strong in my absence. -Olivia

Speed dial - Lando - and then two times more, since the Husband of the Year can't seem to pick up his phone. A text pops up after Lando reclines the call.

We're streaming, is it urgent?

Y/N knows this automatic message all too damn well. No matter how many years him and Max F. managed to pile up, streaming video games time stayed like a sacred constant. It's great when the husband has a hobby. It's not so great when it ends up in him losing one of the kids in the meantime.

She texts him back. Headache. That's what being a mother of two kids and married to an overgrown child is on a typical Wednesday afternoon is.

//

Lando is having a great time. Snack in front of him, controller in hand, headset on—he's in his zone. He's been carrying Max Fewtrell through a game for the past hour, and despite his teammate's absolute lack of skill, it's been a solid session. A nice off season afternoon.

"Bro, you're literally throwing," Max groans through the headset as his in-game character spectacularly fails to complete a simple task.

Lando snickers, eyes glued to the screen. "Nah, mate, you're just bad. Hold on, I gotta—oh, for f—" His phone vibrates on the table, lighting up with Y/N’s name.

He glances at it, sees the call, and immediately ignores it. Another call. Decline.

Third time. Decline again.

He hits the automatic reply. Y/N's reply is instant. CHECK YOUR EMAIL NOW

Lando frowns. What could possibly be so urgent that it requires an email check? His brain cycles through possibilities:

-Y/N booked them another family trip he forgot about. -She ordered something expensive and wants to justify it. -The school sent one of those "Just letting you know" emails about how the twins "express themselves too boldly" (which, in Lando’s opinion, is code for being just like him).

Still, an email? Seems excessive. Whatever. He'll check it.

"Oi, Max, gimme a sec," Lando muttera and opens his inbox app. He scrolls past junk mail, a McLaren PR update, some random sponsorship inquiry—ah, there.

Subject: I Am Leaving. Do Not Try to Stop Me.

Lando snorts. Classic Olivia. Then he reads the first line.

By the time you read this, I will be gone. Away forevr.

…Okay. He keeps reading. His eyebrows start to furrow.

I love you both (most of the time, but Dad, you really made me sad this time), but I have to follow my own path now

His stomach drops.

Wait. What?

Do not try to find me.

Lando launches forward in his chair, suddenly wide awake. Is this for real? He just saw her few minutes ago in their bedroom. Well, might have been like an hour at this point.

Panic is setting rent free in his brain. "Oi, Max—stream's over," he blurts out, shutting the game down.

"Huh? What? We're in the middle of a match!" is the last he hears of him. Lando kills the stream without another word. Email...His daughter has reached the point of sending him emails now. Parenting, it never stops surprising him. His hands fly over his phone as he immediately calls Y/N. She picks up before the first ring even finishes.

"Lando," she says, already exasperated.

"Remember when I said the girls are too young for emails?" he starts, trying to wrap his head around this.

"Lando, they need one for school, this is not up for discussion. But don't get sidetracked - any clue where she is right now?"

He's already on his way to the kids bedroom, wishing they'd bought a smaller apartment. "I'm checking now," he blurts out, trying to keep as much of his anxiety locked in. It's fine, probably nothing.

"I though you brought them home directly after school?" his wife asks and Lando is grateful that there is not a single drop of blame directed towards him. Team players. It was part of their vows and one of the most important aspects of their relationship.

"I did, we just made a quick stop at the mall to get some sweets and then we were off. No spoiling!" he retortes before Y/N has a chance to go on her usual don't-buy-them-things-just-because-they-ask rant. The fact that his wife does not laugh or comment suggests she's had enough time to bury herself in doubts about Olivia already.

Finally, he's at the girl's door, which eerily half-open. A rare instance since the time the twins managed to win over the right to owning a key to their own bedroom few months ago.

He steps in, carefully, phone still at his ear. "Maya?" The objectively calmer and less hot-headed daughter is sitting on her bed, unbothered and uninterested.

"What?" she replies without looking away from her game. It makes Lando bit infuriated, but he knows he's hardly the one to say anything about this topic.

"Maya, where is your sister?" he asks, loudly enough so that Y/N can also hear him.

Not even a glance. "Dunno."

Lando stares at her. "What do you mean, dunno?"

"She said she was running away." Tap, tap, swipe. Maya shrugs. "So I let her."

"You LET HER?!"

Maya finally looks up, confused and surprised by the change of tone. "Yeah? She was being dramatic. Again."

Lando runs fingers through his hair. "Maya, you’re supposed to STOP her from doing stuff like this!"

Maya shrugs. "She was really committed. Packed a bag and everything."

Lando’s brain short-circuits. His ten-year-old daughter ran away. And he didn’t even notice. He hears Y/N sigh heavily over the phone. "I’ll start calling around. You start looking for our child."

Lando, still in mild shock: "Right. Yes. Good plan."

First, he searches the whole apartment, every cabinet, every spot he remembers the kids using during their plays of hide and seek. He's not sure whether he's more mad at Liv, for bolting, or at Maya for being so chill about it. After few minutes, it's obvious, Olivia is not home. He calls the concierge. Nothing. How could they possibly miss a child strolling around with packed bag?

He retraces their steps back. Pick up at the school—short ride over to the small mall—they stopped at a bakery, looked in few shop windows, Lando had them give their opinions on few bracelet designs (The plan is to get everyone in the family one with a different stone color. It's a surprise for Y/N and the girls know it. A family gift, so technically not spoiling anyone.)—then they got home and Lando started streaming. What exactly made Liv run away? Flash of guilt washes him over. Did he say something mean? Maybe he should have called off the stream today. Is he being a bad father? Well, he is, he figures. His child ran away and sent an email specifically mentioning his name. Oh, god. Suddenly, he's regretting being the one to shut down the idea of having their kid's location on at all times. At the time, he argued since they're in Monaco, there wasn't a big probability of anything bad happening to them. Everyone knows everyone. He forgot to count in the fact his kids might one day have a mind of their own. He just wanted to give them some form of freedom.

Lando grabs his phone and starts scrolling through his contacts, heart pounding. Okay. Where would Olivia go? Who enables her nonsense? Who has snacks?

Who would let her rant dramatically without asking too many questions? He dials the first name that makes sense.

Max Verstappen pick up immediately. "Nope, she's not here, Y/N already called. Nice one though, how can you lose a child that loud?" Lando groans, this being the second time he's been beaten by one his family members today. "I didn't lose her, she left."

"Ah, so you’ve been out-parented by a ten-year-old?" he comments, like it's no big deal at all.

"Thanks Max, helpful as always. Let me know if you see her."

"Of course." Lando hangs up immediately.

He hopes he's the first one to call Oscar.

"Hey, Lando. What's up?" he's welcomed with moderately disinterested tone.

"Have you seen Olivia?" Lando blurts out, fighting the passage of time.

"Um. No? Not lately? Should I have?"

He figures that if she's been sitting on his couch right now, Oscar would probably not even notice. "Nah...She sort of ran away few minutes ago. She can't be far, but like..."

"Yeah, that's not good."

Lando thinks about finding new friends. "Excellent observation. Well, let me know if she shows up at your doorstep."

"Will do. Check the school? Maybe she went back?"

If Lando knows one thing, it's that wherever his daughter, his carbon copy, is, it's not back at school.

"Thanks. Once she shows up, I’m grounding her forever."

"Might not be the best way to convince her to come home, mate."

Lando hangs up after the unsolicited advice. He's getting desperate, so he starts dialing random people who are in Monaco. Carlos - does not pick up. His usual contacts end up being either completely useless or actively making the situation worse.

At this point, he's calling anyone in Monaco who might have even the slightest clue where Olivia could be.

And then - a message. Text from Carlos. Mate, drop everything and come by.

Eyes still glued to the text, his brain short-circuiting over Carlos’ cryptic message, and then the phone rings again. Y/N. He barely has time to process before he picks up.

"Tell me you found her." No greeting, no buildup—just straight to business. Lando rubs a hand down his face. "No. But Carlos just texted me. Told me to come over."

A pause. Then, suspicion. "Why?" "I don’t know." Lando waves a hand at the message like she can see it. "He just said ‘it's important.’"

There’s a beat of silence. He can practically hear Y/N narrowing her eyes. "That’s weird," she mutters. "I just called the school again—nothing. Also checked a few cafés, just in case."

Lando starts pacing the living room, running through possibilities. "And?"

"Guess twice." He hears her sigh. "She's not at her friends' houses either. At this point, unless she's living in the canals like some kind of feral child, I have no idea where she'd go."

Lando groans, dragging a hand through his hair. "I'm going to Carlos'."

Another pause. Then, firmly: "Okay. But if Carlos doesn't have her, we're calling the police. What if...." She does not dare to finish the thought and it's just then when Lando starts properly getting worried. Many crazy people are obsessed with him and in extension, his family. He does not dare to even imagine what could happen.

Lando exhales. "Yeah. Agreed." They hang up.

He stares at his phone for half a second longer, then grabs his keys and rushes for the door.

//

He's putting his shoes on when Maya's voice cut through the hallways, her tone all shy and contrasting her previous sassy responses. "Is she going to be alright?" Lando turns around to see the image of pure innocence, worried little ten-year-old, who looks a little too small for this world. A smile forms on his face, even though it does not match his current mood at all.

"Come here, honey," he gestures and waits for Maya to run over to his embrace. She hugs his legs and in return, he pats her head. "Of course. We will find her and it will all be fine."

"I'm sorry I let her go..." she apologizes and Lando is surprised that there are no tears in her eyes, given the sorrow expressed in her voice.

"I'm happy you're saying that," he replies, grateful to be spared of one parent lecture today. "Do you have any idea where she might be?" He searches for any hint of a clue in her face, but it's all blank as she shakes he head.

"She said she's going home. And then left."

Even though this does not help him at all, he nods understandingly, slowly letting go of Maya and reaching for his jacket. "And do you know why?" Guilt must be written all over his face. He had been too reckless, too focused on other things and neglecting his kids.

Maya's soft voice provides an answer, that opens up more questions. "She was upset about the bracelet. Said it was too much."

This stops his actions. "What?" Lando frowns, trying to wrap his head around whether his daughter entering some sort of preteen leftist phase. Aren't kids suppose to like things? Maya simply shrugs her shoulders, her face mimicking her father's. "You know how she is sometimes..."

Yes, he knows. Stubborn, hot-headed and in a world of her own. Once again, like a sarcastic mirror he has to look at everyday, to get reminded of his own mishaps. Maya, the somewhat more innocent, less conniving one, stares at him, as if he has all the answers. He just grabs his keys, reassures her once more and orders her to protect the house. It's an old trick that still seems to be working on her. It's clear though his kids are growing up faster and faster. More complex tactics will be needed. In order to prevent future runaway moments.

//

He's making sure to scan every street he passes by on the way to his ex-teammate's house. It would make sense for Olivia to be at his place, since out of all their family friends, Carlos lives the closest. And, Maya mentioned she's going home. So, unless she's on her way all the way back to visit grandma in England, this seems like the next best thing.

Lando is on edge and the elevator is being annoyingly slow. His daughter is missing, his brain is on fire, and he has exactly zero leads.

And yet—Carlos Sainz opens the door like Lando just showed up for a casual chat session.

"Finally," Carlos says, grabbing Lando by the sleeve and pulling him inside without a single question. "I need your help with something."

Lando blinks. "Carlos, what—"

Carlos does not wait. He marches toward the kitchen, muttering to himself while swiping through something on his phone.

"This is serious. I've been trying to decide this all morning," Carlos continues, completely unaware of Lando's rapidly declining mental state. "I need an outside perspective."

Lando follows, confused, frustrated, and five seconds away from yelling. "Carlos, I don't have time—"

Carlos spins around dramatically. "Should I grow a beard?"

Lando stares. "What?" Carlos gestures at his own face. "A beard. Do I grow one? Or will it look stupid?"

Lando rubs a hand down his face. "Carlos, I do not have time for this right now—" "But it's an important decision!" Carlos argues, like his life depends on it. "A beard changes a man, Lando. I need to know before I commit! I've been craving some change lately and this seems like a good step.“

Lando lets out a deep, slow breath. "Carlos." He almost makes it sound like a threat.  Carlos finally notices something is off. His brow furrows. "What's wrong with you?" "My child ran away,“ Lando deadpans and crosses his arms. 

Carlos blinks. "Oh."

There’s a pause. Then, his eyes widen. "Oh!"

"Yes!" Lando gestures wildly. "That’s why I’m here! I thought maybe she came to you—" Carlos gasps, like he’s just uncovered a great conspiracy.

"She’s on a boat."

"...What?" Carlos nods, suddenly deep in thought. "Sí. It makes sense." Lando shakes his head. "No. It does not."

Carlos, ignoring him entirely: "When I was a small child, I often ran away when I was unhappy with my parents. I would go to the sea. The sea is mysterious. The sea is freedom. And Olivia knows that, I remember telling her.“ Lando pinches the bridge of his nose. Why, pray tell, would his friends instruct his children to ran away from home. "Well, thank you for that. Carlos, the sea is also full of very real dangers." Carlos waves him off. "Oh wait no - it was Maya," he says, like that solves the problem. "So, never mind."

"You do realize the girls talk to each other, constantly sharing bad ideas, right?" Lando snaps, unable to comprehend how quickly his calm afternoon had turned so sour. "Please, refrain from giving them bad ideas from now on, thank you." "Ay, cabron, come on. She’s just probably sitting on a yacht somewhere. You know how many boats there are in Monaco?"

Lando does, unfortunately, know. Too many. Way too many.

Carlos is nodding to himself now, fully convinced. "Come on. We go to the harbor, check a few docks. Maybe yell her name a few times—"

"I am not yelling my daughter’s name across Monaco like a lunatic—"

Carlos grins. "I will do it."

Lando groans. "We are not going to the harbor." Carlos tilts his head. "You sure? Because I think—" Lando’s phone buzzes, saving him from this tragedy of a conversation. He glances at the screen. His manager. Since he does not have a time for a lecture on not missing meetings just because they're on Zoom–just like he is missing one right now–he hits decline and puts this on future Lando to deal with.

Then—a text.

Lando. We found your daughter.

He freezes. Carlos immediately notices. "What? What happened?" Lando, staring at his phone in disbelief, exhales sharply. "They found her." Carlos claps his hands together, triumphant. "On a boat!" Lando glares. "Not on a boat!" Carlos snaps his fingers, looking genuinely disappointed. "Damn. That would’ve been so good."

Lando ignores him, already texting Y/N. Because wherever Olivia is, she’s about to get the lecture of a lifetime.

And if Carlos mentions boats one more time, Lando is never speaking to him again. One intrusive thought enters his brain before he gets to dialing his manager. A beard–there is probably nothing worse Carlos could do to destroy his look so quickly and efficiently. Lando turns towards him. "I think a beard is an excellent idea. You should do it," he says, pretending to take this seriously. A small revenge for his best friend feeding his kids ideas about running away from home. A wide smile grows on the Spaniard's face and he squeezes Lando's shoulder. "Knew it. Thanks, mate!" Lando nods a little too enthusiastically.

//

Home is where the heart is. Some say home is where your story begins. Others say it’s not a place, but a person. For Olivia Norris apparently, for her, it's a place where they sell luxury cars, keep a an endless stock of hoodies with her father's name and probably walk around her on eggshells. Because while most kids would run away to a friend’s house or a secret fort in the woods, Lando's child—his stubborn, dramatic, terrifyingly smart child—ran away to the McLaren showroom.

And honestly? He would have never seen that coming.

He's used to people rushing to take selfies with him whenever he's on the main streets of Monaco, so it's not much of a surprise that when he parks in front of the McLaren showroom, he's circled by enthusiastic fans immediately. Honestly, right now, when he's searching for his runaway child, having visual proof of this afternoon is the last thing he needs. Sadly, he understands that making a scene and refusing would bring even more attention online. Five photos later, he finally gets to enter inside.

It's not like Lando goes around to roam around McLaren stores on his free days, unless PR obligations order him too. His presence would raise eyebrows and freeze employees even on a regular day, without his daughter taking a refuge there. It's obvious from the moment he steps in - all the staff members are on edge, holding their phones like weapons to use to call supervisors and doing a bad job at pretending everything is fine. He walks in and awkwardly waits for the frontman to approach him.

"Mr. Norris," he speaks, barely hiding his nervousness. "I believe you'd want to speak to the manager?" Lando just nods and gives him one angry smile. If there is one thing he's not in the mood for, it's speaking in corporate codes.

"Sure," he says and swiftly walks away.

The front desk employee looks like he’s preparing for battle. Lando watches as the poor guy takes a deep breath, straightens his shoulders, and puts on his best customer service smile before cautiously approaching. "Mr. Norris," the man greets, voice a little too high-pitched. Lando tilts his head. "Let me guess," he says, folding his arms. "You have a small, dramatic, ten-year-old hiding somewhere in here?" The employee lets out a nervous chuckle. "Well… we wouldn't say hiding, exactly."

Lando raises an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"She, uh…" The man glances at his coworkers for support, but they all pretend to be very busy. He clears his throat. "She told us she works here now. Said that Zak Brown himself approved it.“

Lando closes his eyes for a moment. Has this person never talked to a lying child before? 

Of course she did.

"And you… just let her?"

The employee start looking scared. "Um, well, we were not sure how to proceed. She was very convincing."

Lando pinches the bridge of his nose. "Where is she?"

The man gestures toward the back of the store, where the more exclusive merch is displayed. "She, uh… had us set up a 'desk.'" This is a new level, even for her. "She what?" The employee nods gravely. "Sir, she brought a clipboard." That actually stuns him into silence for a second. Then, before he can even process it, he hears it—

A tiny but authoritative voice from behind the display racks. "Excuse me, sir! Can I interest you in our new McLaren papaya collection?" Lando whips his head around. And there, seated behind a neatly arranged stack of McLaren hoodies, holding a clipboard and looking entirely unbothered…

Is Olivia.

His runaway daughter.

His child.

He watches her talking to a grown man, ignoring his minor confusion and doing what could be only described as skillfully pitching this specific line of merch. No shame or hesitance. Just as she almost has this man trying on a bright orange hoodie, Lando decides to step in and intervene. 

"This shade of papaya," she says smoothly, flipping a page on her clipboard for dramatic effect, "It is the best color, because it’s the brightest one. It will make you stand out like no one else."

The man, who clearly only came in for a casual browse, now looks deeply invested. He nods thoughtfully, holding the hoodie up to his chest. "You think it suits me?"

Olivia tilts her head, analyzing him like she’s Zak Brown finalizing a sponsorship deal. "Absolutely. You give off McLaren energy." The man looks genuinely touched. And that is when Lando decides enough is enough. "Olivia Norris," he calls out, voice firm, authoritative, and 100% Dad Mode. His daughter freezes mid-sale. Her eyes go wide. The poor customer looks between them, clearly confused. A second later, he’s got the star-struck face on, probably finally recognizing Lando, who steps forward, hands on his hips. Glances apologetically at the man and gives his full attention to his daughter. "What exactly do you think you're doing?"

Olivia plasters on a casual smile, like she wasn't just caught selling merch to a stranger in an attempt to start a new life.

"Uh, working?" she tries, tucking the clipboard against her chest like that makes it official.

Lando raises an eyebrow. "Oh, really?"

She nods, fully committing. "Mhm. First day on the job. Big things happening for me." "Liv,“ he speaks a warning, the fact they’re out in public with interested witnesses working in her favor.  She holds up a finger, turning back to the man. "One second, sir, my old manager's here." Lando nearly chokes. "I'm your father." "Same thing," she shrugs. Lando blinks at her. Then, at the clipboard. Then, back at her. "Pack it up," he says, gesturing toward the exit. "Your shift is over." Olivia sighs dramatically. "Does this mean I don’t get paid?"

"Olivia."

"Fine," she huffs, setting the clipboard down like this is a tragic career-ending moment. Lando turns to the man, who still looks entirely too amused. "Sorry about that," he sighs. The man chuckles. "No worries. She’s good." He pauses, then holds up the hoodie. "I am gonna buy this, though." Lando groans. Of course she made a sale. As Olivia grins proudly, clearly aware she's the winner this afternoon, Lando grabs her by the shoulders and steers her toward the door, preparing for the conversation of a lifetime. He waves apologetically at the store employees, who are all trying very hard to pretend like they're not watching them.

They walk out from the store, calmly and collected. He's carrying the bag she must have packed and questions her planning skills, as the bag seems to be full of dresses and random selection of snacks. After all, even with the stunt he's just seen, ultimately. he is grateful that authorities didn't need to get involved in this. He guides Olivia to his car, opens the door and makes sure she’s locked in before he starts the car. 

He’s driving home smoothly, monitoring her face in all the mirrors available. Dark sunglasses she put on probably to prove a point hide her eyes, but the body language betrays her. She's upset and while he does share her emotion and has to fight his urge to start his lecture about safety, fans and most importantly, not running away from home, he decides to do the adult thing and sets his goal on figuring out the cause of this all. 

"So. Running away from home, huh?" he asks and tries to keep his tone as casual as possible. No reaction. Fine. "Your mom and I were really worried. Maya too, by the way," he tries to play it on the more emotional side. It's only when he mentions Maya, that Olivia shifts uncomfortably. Lando notices the slight movement immediately. A tiny shrug in her shoulders, like the weight of what she did is finally sinking in.

Good. She should feel a little guilty.

Still, she says nothing, arms crossed tightly over her chest, the ridiculous slightly oversized sunglasses making her look far too dramatic for a ten-year-old.

Lando sighs, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel.

"She thought you might be gone forever, you know," he adds, throwing a quick glance at Olivia through the rearview mirror. "She even got promoted to ‘oldest child.’ Big responsibility."

That gets him something—a twitch at the corner of her mouth. He presses on. "And I don't know if you realize this," he continues, keeping his voice light yet firm, "but your ‘home’ today was a McLaren store. Not even the factory, Liv. A store."

Olivia adjusts her sunglasses like a celebrity avoiding paparazzi. "Seemed like a good idea at the time."

Lando raises an eyebrow. "Really?"

She shrugs. "Well. You always say that McLaren is your home. And if it's yours, why could it not be mine?“ 

Lando’s heart sinks and he’s not sure whether he's proud to know Olivia listens to what he says or if he's terrified of the strange, most likely unhealthy, relationship his kid is developing towards a global corporation. "I do say that, you're right. But there is a difference between a job and a home. It’s a...Different kind of home,"  he says it and wonders if anyone had ever told him that when he was young. 

Olivia seems to be deeply in her own thoughts. "I'm sure some of the employees would take me in."

Lando scoffs. "Oh, well, in that case—fantastic life decision."

A small huff. "Better than where I was gonna go."

Lando narrows his eyes. "And where exactly was that?"

Silence. If she says "a boat", Lando's going to convince Carlos to also shave his hair off. He waits, watching her in the mirror, not pushing—just letting the silence do the work. And after a few moments, Olivia finally caves, shifting in her seat.

Surprisingly, she ignores his question entirely. "You and Mom were gonna put braces on me so you could tell me and Maya apart."

Lando almost swerves into the wrong lane. "Wait, what?!" He glances at her, then back at the road. "Braces?"

Olivia nods solemnly. "I heard you. In the store. You said it will be easier," she says, sounding genuinely disturbed. Then, her childlike anger builds up. "But, I don’t even have all my adult teeth in! It sounds dangerous, dad! Also - why would you and mom need them too? Do you realize everyone is going to laugh at our family?"

Lando stares straight ahead, completely dumbfounded. For a second, his brain refuses to process this level of nonsense.

Braces. BRACES?!

Of all the things she could've misheard, this is what led to her dramatic escape?

"Olivia." He exhales, shaking his head. "I said bracelets. I was getting us bracelets. Matching ones, with different colors, so that other people won’t mix you and Maya up so much, I know how you hate it."

There’s a beat of silence. Then, Olivia slowly lowers her sunglasses. "...Bracelets?"

"Bracelets," Lando confirms, dead serious.

More silence.

Then—a quiet, barely-there mutter:

"...Oh."

Lando lets out the loudest, most exhausted sigh of his life. "Oh?" he repeats, glancing at her in disbelief. "OH?! You ran away because of a bracelet misunderstanding?!"

Olivia slouches further into her seat. "I was not going to let that happen to me."

Lando pinches the bridge of his nose. "Liv. If you just asked—"

"You said not to tell mom!“ she interrupts, as if this is somehow his fault.

Lando groans. "That's not the point!"

"I panicked!"

"You panicked? So instead of clarifying, you packed a bag full of dresses and snacks and started a career in retail?!"

Olivia crosses her arms again, defensive. "It was a solid plan."

Lando lets out a short, incredulous laugh. "Liv, it was the worst plan."

She pouts. "It worked for a while."

Lando tilts his head. "Did it?"

"...No."

"Exactly."

A long pause.

Then, softly: "Maya really thought I was leaving forever?"

Lando nods. "Yeah. She acted all chill about it, but I could tell she was worried."

Olivia twists the hem of her hoodie, suddenly looking much smaller than before. "...I didn't mean to scare her."

Lando softens.

"I know," he says, glancing at her in the mirror again. "And I know you like being independent, but Liv—" He sighs. "You don’t need to run away over stuff like this. Just talk to me, okay?"

She nods slowly, still fiddling with her hoodie. "...Okay."

"And maybe next time, instead of running away, just... go to your room dramatically like a normal ten-year-old?"

Olivia snorts. "No promises." Lando chuckles, shaking his head.

This kid.

They pull into the driveway, and Olivia takes off her sunglasses, letting out a deep breath.

"Hey, Dad?" Lando raises an eyebrow. "Yeah?" She smirks. "Did you bring my clipboard?" Lando laughs, unlocking the car. "You're grounded."

//

"So, you're telling me Liv ran away because of no reason?" Y/N asks for the third time, as she sits across from her husband and two suspiciously quiet children.

Lando's got his PR smile on, it's clear as a day. When and how he managed to teach both of the girls the same is the real mystery. Y/N cut her day at work short to rush home. Even with the news of Olivia being back at home, she found it hard to focus on anything else. She expected to walk into a battlefield, at least one of the girls crying and flustered Lando. But no—one would never have even guessed anything strange had happened that day. They're all sitting there, like some sort of picturesque scene from a school issued guidance book.

"Mom," Olivia speaks up slowly, accidentally looking at Y/N like she is stupid for repeating the question. "It was a bad decision on my part. I accept being grounded for a week. We will be able to explain everything in few weeks," Olivia says confidently at first, but still turns towards her father, as if for confirmation she said all the right words. It's hard to believe a single word she says. Still, he gives her a small, but proud, nod.

"We have a surprise for you and if we tell you everything, it will be ruined!" Maya's comment is cheerfully enthusiastic, like she's telling Y/N the best thing that has ever happened.

Without a clue on what to say, Y/N turns to Lando for any hint of answers. He looks at her like he's some divine angel. "It's a funny story, but we can't tell you now."

Y/N hands fly up at the weird logic of this all. "What?"

"Patience, love. It's a virtue," Lando says simply and it's clear none of them are going to spill anything about today.

Maya follows the lead with a comment dripping with excitement. "Yes, mom. Patience!"

Y/N exhales sharply, dragging a hand down her face. She stares at the three of them—her clearly rehearsed, suspiciously well-behaved family—then lets out a dry laugh.

"You know what?" she says, standing up. "Fine. But when this ‘surprise’ inevitably turns into another disaster, I am not the one handling it."

She grabs her bag and heads toward the kitchen, muttering under her breath.

Behind her, Lando leans closer to his kids and ruffles both their hair. "That went well. Good job, she's going to love the bracelets."

Olivia, smirking proudly, follow his lead. "Told you we could sell it. I have experience now."

[authorhjk1]

Choi Sooyoung Blood Red Dress

https://search.app.goo.gl/EqoAcpe

Blood red

(Sooyoung X Male Reader)

Sooyoung lets out a moan as you lean down to kiss her neck. Her husband and his parents are eating in the living room, while you have your hand up his wife's dress in the middle of the hallway. You press her against their bedroom door behind her and let two fingers slip inside her pussy. The two or you were planning to do this in their bedroom, but you stopped in front of the door, unable to keep your hands off her for much longer.

"I need to use the bathroom."

A shiver runs down your spine when you hear Sooyoung's father in law's voice. Finally, the two of you slip through the door behind her and a moment later you hear footsteps in the hallway. Sitting on the bed, you watch how Sooyoung gets on her knees and quickly undoes your belt and pants.

"Isn't this so exciting?"

Her mischievous grin makes you reach for her head and guide her towards your now exposed cock.

"I never thought you'd be such a slut for your husband's boss."

"Guilty."

Sooyoung whispers against your tip, already making your breath hitch, before she even starts sucking you off.

The faint voices in the living room are reduced to a minimum as Sooyoung doesn't care about making noises. She's quickly taking your cock in and out of her mouth, her head bobbing up and down in your lap. Your dick is getting coated in her saliva in the process. You're just about to take her head into your hands and start to fuck her face, when the door suddenly opens.

You look up, suddenly way too aware of what you're doing. Sooyoung lets your cock fall out of her mouth, before she turns around, her eyes wide in surprise.

"I should've known it wasn't my son's idea to invite your boss."

Your surprised by her father in law's amused smile and your confusion rises when he steps into the room and closes the door behind.

"You probably don't know this..."

He is talking to you as he takes his pants off. You're still aware that Sooyoung's hand is wrapped around your wet cock.

"but me and Sooyoung have fun from time to time as well. Isn't that right?"

He leans down and to you watch how she licks her lips as she pulls down his boxers. She takes his cock into her mouth and you feel her hand beginning to move up and down your length. You knew Sooyoung was a slut for sleeping with you. But you never expected her to be this bad.

"Good girl."

He groans, his hand stroking her hair while she sucks him off.

You stand up as well and Sooyoung eventually moves her head to wrap her lips around your cock. You stand next to her husband's father while Sooyoung gives the both of you head.

"This dress looks amazing on you."

He says while she's sucking you off, her hand stroking his cock. He reaches down to reach into her cleavage, groping her tits.

"I picked it."

You admit, amused by how big of a slut Sooyoung is.

"Great choice."

He groans when she takes him into her mouth again and you feel her hand gliding along your length.

"Although I prefer that tight pink one. She wore it for my birthday."

You chuckle.

"Yeah, she looks amazing in that."

"Do you guys want to fuck me or keep talking?"

Sooyoung looks up at the both of you with one hand each stroking your cocks.

"Why not both?"

Her father and law jokes and you help Sooyoung to her knees.

You're curious if her husband or her mother in law are ever going to look for the three or you. You can't tell how long it has been since you went into her bedroom.

"Right there."

Sooyoung moans around his cock, while you keep thrusting into her from behind. She's on all fours on her husband's bed, getting fucked by his boss and his father.

"Keep going, slut."

He takes her head in both his hand and now starts to fuck her face, while you thrust in and out of her pussy. You never expected to share Sooyoung with anyone. But here you are now. You can tell how horny she is. Her pussy is dripping wet and she tries her best to suck her father in law off. Her dress is lying next to her on the bed and you decide to start spanking her ass. Every hit on her butt cheeks makes his head roll back, probably because she moans and groans around his cock.

After the two of you switch positions, you know you won't be able to hold on for much longer. You're surprised her father in law has this much stamina while spit roasting her, but even he seems to be close to finishing.

"God, your throat feels amazing."

You groan, but Sooyoung can't answer. Your cock is buried deep inside her throat, while keeps fucking her, forcing her even further onto your length.

It finally ends with the both of you standing on the mattress with Sooyoung kneeling between you two.

"Come on, guys. All over my face."

She has this mischievous smile on her lips that screams pure lust. It feels like she's the definition of a slut as she jerks both of you off, pointing your cocks at her face.

"Fuck, gonna cum."

He groans, leaning back a little. You watch how he climaxes, his cum erupting all over Sooyoung's face. Her cheeks and nose are covered, some got on her lips and she moans in satisfaction. Trying to taste him, she sticks out her tongue and licks her lips clean.

"So damn delicious."

She sighs and focuses on you.

You can't believe that she is jerking you off, kneeling naked on her husband's bed, her father in law's cum already all over her face.

"Ruin my face completely."

She can feel your cock pulsating, so she closes her eyes and opens her mouth.

You see stars as you orgasm. Your own cum mainly hits her eyes and mouth, slightly mixing with his cum, while Sooyoung takes it all.

"Oh my god. So much delicious cum."

Instead of wiping her face clean, she leans forward and takes both of your cocks into her hands again. She cleans the both of you with her mouth, making sure she doesn't miss a drop.

[gloomskulls]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ IMPERIUM & CHAINS [caracalla & geta x reader]

pairing(s): gladiatorii!caracalla x gladiatorii!geta x pregnant!empress!reader

⇢ ˗ˏˋ SUMMARY ୨୧ On her return in her homeland, with her children and another one growing in her womb, the Empress expects a moment of peace, a time to remember who she was before Rome. But there were never two husbands like Empress Caracalla and Geta anywhere else in the world. As her old memory resurfaces and the return into her old kingdom begins, she starts asking herself…is this freedom? Or is she just a bird in a golden cage?

⇢ ˗ˏˋ WARNING ୨୧ polygamy, extreme possessiveness, captivity, psychological manipulation, implied noncon/dubcon, violence, threats, power imbalance, misogyny, forced pregnancy, gaslighting, emotional abuse, toxic relationship, lemme know if I missed any!

If you don't wanna see my dark stories, please block the tag #madi: dark content

i just watched gladiator ii, and all of the sudden my eddie munson era is back, (so is my obsession with fred hechinger ever since he appeared in fear street 1994)

The imperial carriage rumbled over the bad dirt path, ostentatiously gilded to shine in the noonday sun. Rows of Roman soldiers flanking the route guarded by deep crimson banners. But the Empress felt anything but powerful inside her carriage

Inside the imperial carriage, the air had become still. The rich smell of expensive perfumes, warm wine, and her husbands unmistakable musk conspired to seal her in.

Across from her lay the twin Emperors of Rome, sprawled upon the cushioned seats like lazy gods.

Caracalla, in crimson toga with gold embroidery, rested his feet upon the floor. Sullen, crazed eyes would sometimes flick her way as if watching and expecting something from her—thankfulness or maybe subjection.

In contrast, Geta reclined with easiness, tunic with a looser drape. There was a slow swishing motion to his goblet of wine, and he gazed at the bloody liquid swirling around with keen interest.

The Empress, sitting stiffly in between the two, rested one hand protectively on her bulging belly while the other gripped the silk folds of her dress. Warmth from her children's laughter flowed back into her mind; they were riding ahead of her with heavy guard, separated. One would have thought her comforted by their warmth, but instead, her heart sank deep with the burden of her predicament.

She was going home. And yet, she was never free.

The castle gates swung open, revealing the King waited at the top of the stone steps. Once feared in battle, now an old lion, awaiting the cub's return, flanked by two wolves.

The imperial carriage rolled to a slow, deliberate halt.

The moment she stepped out, her father’s face softened. She barely drew breath before she clambered up the steps, disregarding the indifferent stares of the Roman guards, taking her father’s hands into her own and squeezing him with might.

“Father.”

“My child,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. He cupped her face, his eyes flicked down to her belly, then past her to the gilded carriage. The warmth in his expression chilled instantly.

The twins had arrived.

Geta was first out, having in his own right created a suffocating silence in the courtyard, dark eyes sizing everything and everyone present.

Caracalla followed slowly, stretching his limbs as if awakening from a sweet dream, releasing a slight sigh and then glancing toward the King with a grin.

"My lords," began the King, voice firm, with fingers twitching ever so slightly against her hands. "Welcome to my home. Again"

"We are honored," Caracalla purred, ever smooth. He cast a cursory glance around. "Although, I must say, it seems awfully… smaller than I remember."

Geta remained quiet. He stared at the King, the muscles of his jaw taut, as if this entire rendezvous was beneath him. Then he walked past them without a nod and up the steps and into the castle, like a man who owned it.

The grand hall burst into flames under the torches, amid feasting sounds. The servants dashed between the tables pouring goblets of wine and laying platters of food in front of their guests. But the food was warm; everything else was cold with tension.

The Empress sat at the long banquet table between Caracalla and Geta; her children were further down, having an animated conversation with their grandfather. If not for their innocent laughter, she would have completely fallen apart.

"You must let them see the mountains tomorrow," the King said. "The ones beyond the valley, they must know where their mother used to play as a child."

"No," Caracalla responded instantly.

Silence.

The King frowned. "I can assure you they will be quite safe."

"It is not your assurances I am concerned with," said Caracalla. He did not even bother looking up from his plate.

"Forgive my brother," Geta said, putting on a charming smile. "He forgets his manners." He sipped leisurely at this wine. "We simply have too many enemies. Our children—her children—are too precious to us to be taken on an aimless stroll through the wilderness."

The King lowered his goblet slowly. "Precious? They are not commodities."

"Oh, but they are," Caracalla finally raised his head, his gaze fixing on the King. "They are the blood of Rome. And Rome does not share."

The Empress clenched her hands beneath the table. She had known this conversation would eventually happen, but to hear it now, to see their expressions so filled with ownership over not just her but her very own children, made her stomach turn.

Her father exhaled through his nose, wrestling to maintain his composure. But she could see it; the fingers that were twitching against the wood, the way his shoulders stiffened.

"You have stolen my daughter," he said lowly.

A silence that throttled.

Caracalla reclined back in his chair without removing his fingers from the dagger. "No, old man. You gave her to us as a way to soothe your losing war with Persia. We own her."

Geta chuckled. "You should be proud. Your little girl is the Empress of Rome."

Her father turned to her then, his eyes searching. Pleading. "Are you happy?"

She opened her mouth. No sound came out.

Caracalla leaned in close, breath warm against her ear. "Be careful," he whispered just low enough for her to hear. "We wouldn't want father getting any ideas, would we?"

She swallowed hard. "I am… honored to serve Rome."

A lie. And everyone at the table knew it.

High above the castle gardens, the moon cast streaming silver light on the stone pavements and bloomed flowers. The air smelled of damp earth and roses, a scent she had not smelled in a long time. It was completely different from the Rome, where the air was forever heavy with sweat and the metallic pungent tang from bloodshed in the Colosseum.

She walked along the trimmed hedges slowly, her fingers trailing along them. Something unnamable throbbed in her heart; perhaps longing or grief. The familiar feeling of this place, the shelter it once represented, was a cruel illusion now.

She was no longer just a princess of this land.

An Empress of Rome.

And Rome never loosed its hold.

A rustle behind her made her pause, but she did not turn.

"I thought I could find you here."

Deep voice, familiar. Father.

She exhaled, allowing her shoulders to relax slightly. "I needed air."

Footfalls approached, slow but heavy. Then a rough-hewn warm palm settled on her shoulder, and she allowed her moment of sojourn.

Father sighed, grip gentle but firm. "You look tired."

She released a soft, humorless chuckle. "I am always tired."

His hand fell away, and when she turned around, he was looking at her. Like really observing her. They had last met when she was younger, freer. Not a woman weighed down by the crown of Rome and the possessive grip of the twin Emperors.

His gaze fell to her belly. "Another child."

She nodded. "Another."

He inhaled sharply, shaking his head. "How many more, my daughter?"

She didn't reply.

Rather, she had her head turned to face the sky, feeling the cool air kiss the skin.

"You could stay," her father said after a long silence.

Lurching of the heart.

Her throat contracted and she forced herself to say the words. "You know that is not possible."

"Is it?" His voice was laced with frustration. "I am still a king. This is still your home. I could—"

"You could do nothing," she interrupted, shaking her head. "You think you could hide me? That they would simply let me go?"

He didn't speak, but the tension of his jaw told her all.

He knew. He knew that Caracalla and Geta would burn this kingdom to the ground before they let her slip through their fingers.

But still, he wouldn't let that go "You do not have to live like that."

She laughed bitterly but softly. "And how do I live, Father?"

"Like a woman in a gilded cage," he said.

She went still.

His voice softened. "You flinch when they touch you. You never look them in the eye for too long. And when you speak, you measure every word, as if your very breath belongs to them."

Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. "Because it does."

Father's eyes darkened with wrath, but it was not against her. One step was taken closer to and around him, bearing down with great presence. "I could protect you. I could protect your children. You wouldn't have to go back."

Her lips trembled but quickly sealed them into a firm line.

The thought was dangerous.

So dangerous.

But then, for the first time in years, sparkled hope within her. The idea about staying was intoxicating, living beyond those cold, suffocating walls of Rome with her children, without the constant presence of them.

For the briefest of moments, she allowed herself to think it could happen.

The empress didn't know what she was tensed about. She was just a servant girl, staring with wide eyes and nerves.

"The emperors request you," she said. "Immediately."

Now she was in their quarters, she could feel sweat forming in her palms as the tension in the room was rather tense. She could already sense in her gut that something was wrong.

Geta stood at the window, faced out into the darkness of the courtyard. He did not turn round when she entered, but the tension of his shoulders told her all.

Caracalla sat propped in a cushioned chair with one leg flung over the other, playing languidly with his goblet full of wine. Unlike his brother, he was looking at her directly, a faint smirk curling at the edges of his lips.

"It took you a while to get here," Geta murmured. "How rude of you."

Saying nothing, she just stood shivering at the door post.

"Tomorrow at dawn, we leave" is all Caracalla said.

Her breath caught.

"Why the sudden change?" she inquired, doctoring her voice to a level, impassive delivery.

Geta wheeled around at that instant, vision tearing through her like a knife. "There is nothing else for us here."

Caracalla sighed, arms crossed, as he tossed his empty goblet elsewhere. "it's too bad. I was just starting to get into the entertainment." He smiled at her, making little effort to hide the glint in his deep-set eyes. "Your father is such a gracious host. But I am left wondering… does he think he can keep you?"

Silence.

The Empress gulped.

Caracalla stepped closer, the air thickened by his presence. "I wonder," he said softly, "is it possible he thinks you want to stay?"

Another of his tests.

She covered her expression, lowered her eyes. "I am the Empress of Rome."

"Yes," Caracalla said darkly, "you are."

It was a quiet chuckle from Geta. "See, brother? No need to worry. Our little Empress knows where she belongs."

Caracalla looked anything but convinced.

His fingers just brushed her wrist, a light touch, but a warning, nonetheless.

"You should sleep," he murmured.

She nodded, turning to go, but before she could step away Caracalla caught her chin between his fingers, jerking her face back up towards him.

"You wouldn't mistake forgetting, would you?" he whispered.

Her heart pounded in her throat.

"No," she whispered.

He held her for just a moment more and then let her go.

Geta saw it all with lazy boredom. As if he was looking at a lecture.

"Good girl,"

And that was her dismissal.

But as she walked, her heart thundered away in her chest. Now they suspected her. Which meant that if she was to escape, it would have to be soon.

Because come morning, she would be on the road back to Rome.

And once she was back within those golden walls, under their ever-watching gaze, so suffocating and smothering, she's surprised she could even breath.

There would be no way out.

@gloomskulls 2024. DON'T COPY, TRANSLATE OR USE ANY OF MY WORKS HERE OR ANY OTHER WEBSITES. Photos don't belong to m

[hrizantemy]

Comparing evil people like Amarantha, King Hybern and his whole court, Rhysand and all of his IC especially their high lady,(who I feel definitely has turned evil or really bad). Do you think Beron and all of his sons are evil? Do you think some of them are acting and playing the part? Or do you think they all have evil in them from their upbringing of being Beron sons? Myself I can’t help but see it as they are evil-ish, but not the whole court and I even think Beron isn’t evil he just sucks as a husband and father. Then again depending on the reader, not everyone wants to be good and just choose to be evil for different reasons whether it be validated or not. This has been on my mind for a long time now, because I want to know more about the other courts, who is actually good? Who is actually evil? Who is morally grey? We know nothing else of other courts and the HL’s everything is NC and it’s annoying that they have 3 books on them and nothing on any other court, to give us something to know about them. About their true feelings on the human race, about the NC and their sneaky conniving ways!! I just want to pick the mind of other people on these topics.

This is such a great question because, honestly, the way the courts are written leaves so much unanswered—especially in terms of morality, politics, and the actual complexity of characters outside the Night Court. The books spend so much time making the Night Court look like the only progressive place, but at the same time, we’re given very little real insight into how the other courts function beyond surface-level stereotypes.

Are Beron and His Sons Truly Evil?

I don’t think it’s as black and white as “they’re all evil,” but I also don’t think they’re all just playing a part. Beron himself is clearly an abusive, cruel, power-hungry ruler, but does that automatically mean his entire court is evil? No. Does it mean all of his sons are? Not necessarily.

• Beron – I wouldn’t say he’s “evil” in the way that Amarantha or Hybern are. He’s not out here committing mass genocide or enslaving entire courts, but he is a ruthless and abusive ruler. He is clearly manipulative and enjoys exerting control over his family. However, I don’t think he’s interested in outright destruction or chaos—his goal is power and maintaining his rule. That makes him cruel, oppressive, and controlling, but not necessarily a mustache-twirling villain. If anything, he reminds me more of the classic corrupt politician—someone who values power and control over morality but isn’t inherently sadistic the way Amarantha was.

• Eris – Now this is where things get interesting. Eris is a wild card in all of this because we know he’s been playing the long game for a very long time. He’s been framed as cruel and conniving, but there have been multiple hints that he’s not as bad as he seems.

• He let Lucien go instead of killing him, despite the fact that Lucien was a threat to his standing in the family.

• He told Feyre and company that they have no idea what he’s had to do to survive.

• He clearly hates his father, which means that a lot of his actions could be self-preservation rather than outright malice.

• I think he’s the closest in power after Beron and most likely the next heir and is scheming against his father, which suggests that at least some people in Autumn are willing to support him.

Eris might be morally gray, but I don’t think he’s outright evil. He plays a role because he has to—because in the Autumn Court, weakness is fatal. He’s an opportunist, yes, but that doesn’t mean he’s without a moral code. He clearly has some sense of honor, even if it’s buried under layers of self-preservation and political maneuvering.

• Lucien – Easily the most morally good of the brothers (at least from what we’ve seen). He’s compassionate, loyal, and genuinely tries to do the right thing. But what’s interesting is that he survived Beron’s court for centuries without being killed, which suggests that he was either really good at staying out of trouble or that his brothers weren’t as eager to kill him as people assume. If Beron’s sons were all pure evil, Lucien probably wouldn’t have made it out alive.

• The Other Brothers – We don’t know much about them, but they seem to lean more toward Beron’s side of things. That said, I think it’s possible that some of them are just going along with the system rather than actually believing in it. It’s a brutal court, and not everyone has the luxury of open defiance.

The Problem with How the Other Courts Are Written

One of the most frustrating things about ACOTAR is that we barely know anything about the other courts. Everything is so Night Court-centric that we never get a truly unbiased look at how the others function. The only information we get is from Rhysand, Feyre, and the IC—who, let’s be honest, are not reliable narrators.

For example:

• Day Court – We know Helion is powerful and progressive, but what does his court actually look like? How do his people live? We’re barely told anything.

• Winter Court – We know they’re supposed to be noble and that Kallias loves his people, but beyond that? Nothing. How do they govern? What are their struggles?

• Autumn Court – We only ever see it through Lucien’s trauma and Eris’s politics, but there are still regular citizens living there. Are they all suffering? Are they all cruel? Or is the court only as bad as its leadership?

It’s incredibly frustrating that five books in, we still don’t have a real understanding of the other courts. Instead, we’re fed this one-sided narrative where the Night Court is somehow the only place with a functional society and everyone else is either “backward,” “corrupt,” or “stupid.”

Who Is Actually Good? Who Is Actually Evil? Who Is Morally Gray?

If we step back from the Night Court propaganda, I think it’s fair to say:

• Amarantha & Hybern → Truly evil. They engaged in mass slaughter, enslavement, torture, and war with zero remorse.

• Rhys & The IC → Morally gray at best, hypocritical at worst. They act like they’re the good guys, but they’ve done questionable, manipulative, and even cruel things to get what they want.

• Beron & His Sons → Somewhere between evil and morally gray. Beron is cruel, but we don’t know if he’s pure evil or just a ruthless politician. Eris is likely gray, and Lucien is actually good.

• Tamlin → Not evil, just deeply flawed and traumatized. He has done bad things, but he’s also been one of the most realistically written characters in terms of regret and guilt.

• Helion, Kallias, and Tarquin → Seem good, but we don’t know enough about them to say for sure.

Final Thoughts

I think the biggest problem is that ACOTAR presents morality in a very biased way. We’re expected to believe that the Night Court is the only place with real progress, the only court worth rooting for, while the others are either evil or irrelevant. But that’s just not good worldbuilding. There’s so much potential for complexity in the other courts, but we don’t get to see it because everything is filtered through Rhysand’s perspective.

So are Beron and his sons evil? Some, maybe. Others, probably not. But the fact that we’re never given the chance to explore that nuance is what’s really frustrating. And until the books actually give us more about the other courts, we’ll just be stuck with this one-sided view that makes the Night Court look like the center of the universe—which, frankly, is getting really old.

[souptastical]

WHY DOES NO ONE TALK ABOUT HOW MUCH PTSD THE GOLDEN TRIO/EVERY WEASLEY KID/ALL THEIR PEERS WOULD HAVE WHEN RAISING THEIR KIDS???

Like seriously- I NEVER EVER see it. It's all how lovely life would be, the peace, how they could finally live a comfortable life- gurl what??

Harry, Ron Hermione were 17. Do you remember being 17? Yeah, take that mindset and imagine going through a goddamn war, one that alllll revolved around you/your best friend succeeding and if it didn't happen, there would be a dark age like no one had ever seen.

⚡️Harry would keep having nightmares, probably forever. There would probably be days where he laid in bed, unable to move due to the consuming guilt and/or depression which would just add more guilt and depression when he got out of it as he left Ginny to care for their kids and would wake to figure out he missed out on core memories of his children. Sometimes, desperate to see him, James, Albus and Lily would just lay there with him in silence. They witnessed their father go through periods of being totally present, totally happy and then he would randomly just look into the floor as if he was no longer there- his flashbacks were always quiet.

💫Ron, I feel, might end up going through substance addiction to deal with the loss of his brother coupled with moments of anger or just random, unjustified annoyance- the same goes for George and this would extremely strain their romantic relationships. He would most likely have flashbacks of countless moments of fear, would hear Hermione's screams at night, would see his brother's dead body upon that stone ground. Rose and Hugo felt so loved by their father, but also aprehensive because at any moment, his mood could switch.

🌙Hermione would have phases of constantly putting herself into intense moments of focus- her work, the kids, anything to keep her mind occupied out of fear those random moments where her arm burned or the memories of her husband spliced would return full force. She would eventually breakdown, her mind strained due to always, all the time, trying to ignore it all. Rose and Hugo witnessed this constantly- one minute she's fine, the next she's sobbing on the floor and Ron was barking at them to go to their room so they didn't have to be there for it, so they could leave him to console her.

☀️I feel like Ginny remained strong for her siblings, parents & Harry after the war to a degree that she ignored her own emotions and turmoil. Entirely. And then, finally when James was born, what was only supposed to be a flicker of post-partum went full fucking swing due to the fact she bottled everything inside for roughly 6 years straight. And it was bad- Harry was left caring for a newborn and his wife that couldn't move, eat, or bathe on her own. She was probably the only one of them besides Hermione who got proper therapy- the boys being too stubborn. When shit was better, she found herself going through these phases of dismissive attitude towards all her children, her PTSD coming out more in anger, probably similar to Ron and George. But she was especially this way to James- because she couldn't bear to feel the guilt about not being there for him upon his birth, she tried to ignore him entirely at points until she finally realized what she was doing later on.

Then there's everyone else- they would be so fucking destroyed by what happened like??? And their kids would have to watch it- they would grow up with parents riddled with PTSD, an entire generation that had the people raising them be torn from war; some that were able to move past it, some that weren't, and some that were always somewhere in the middle.

[brutalnferno]

You guys ate this up huh. I thought this at midnight while listenining to Like Him by Tyler, The Creator. In light of that, I pose you this:

The spoken dialogue at the end of the song? Simon's mum.

CONTENT WARNING FOR SOME ABUSE DISCUSSION

Simon had only been back from leave for less than a week when he decided he didb't have to take his dad's shit anymore. He wasn't a child anymore, he didn't have to be forced to tiptoe around and feel small in his own home, especially not with his line of work.

His breaking point is when he catches his father – no, he was hardly a father. Hardly even a man, the living scum that he was – hurting his mother. And Simon just loses it, wipes the floor with his old man and kicks him out. The military hardened the scared kid that got pushed around and made a man that wouldn't stop until one of them could barely move. And that one wasn't Simon.

Simon kicks his dad out, threatening to finish the job if he ever dares show up at their door.

And when he looks at the destruction, he looks at Tommy Riley standing in the doorway to the wrecked living room, the way his mother and brother are looking at him, he knows. He knows he really is the spitting image of his old man, down to the way he fights. Down to the way he beat a man that never stood a chance against him.

He quietly apologises about the mess as he brings his mother to the bathroom to treat her injuries. She's not hurt too bad – a black eye, a bleeding lip, a small cut on her cheek – and Simon is hurt worse than her from the fight, but that doesn't matter. He can shrug it off, he's felt worse.

As he's cleaning her up, she talks. Her voice is shaky and hoarse from tears and begging the boys to stop fighting.

It was my fault, not yours, not his, it was my fault, I'm sorry

You know

It was my fault– shhh

Not him, 'cause he always wanted to be there for you

And I'm sorry I was young

But he's always wanted to be a father to you

So I, I fucked up and I take ownership of that

Of my choices and decisions

And I'm sorry for that

He's a good guy

So don't hold that against him, because it was my fault

Just, you know, forgive me

He tries to cut her off, to tell her it's not her fault, but he knows when she shushes him to let her speak. And he lets her talk and talk as he cleans the both of them up, about how it's her fault, about how different her husband was when they first met, about how Simon is so much like him. And he just listens.

When Tommy's son is brought home for the first time, when Simon is allowed to hold the boy for the first time, he looks down at him quietly. Three years ago, he'd have never seen his brother becoming such an amazing man. But here he was, starting a family of his own. And Simon knows exactly what he has to say about the lad.

"He looks just like you, Tommy."

Thinking about Simon Riley who grew up to be the spitting image of his dad and never reconciled with it.

Simon Riley who always felt a little bit guilty that he left his brother and mum alone with his dad

Simon Riley who can't escape it even when he beats the bastard and finally kicks him out of their lives, because he lives on within his son.

Simon Riley who's mother fondly tells him through tears he reminds her so much of her husband when they first fell in love

Simon Riley who listens to Tommy Riley talk about how "dad used to do that too, you really look like him these days"

Simon Riley who has little else to think about other than his family, including his likeness to his old man, when imprisoned by Manuel Roba

Simon Riley, the son that shouldn't have survived. It should have been Tommy, who had a big future with a family of his own

Lieutenant Ghost who never takes the mask off

Lieutenant Ghost who sees his own face about as much as anyone else these days

Lieutenant Ghost who sees his face so rarely that it's hard to recognise as himself

Lieutenant Ghost who sees his dad in the mirror

Lieutenant Ghost who, even covered by scars and irrevocably changed, still looks like his dad

[the-badger-mole]

Hi! Been loving your blog and writing!

I really like your characterization and opinions of A.ang. It’s nice to read fan fic and blogs that just gets it. Down the road and back again was just *chef’s kiss*. (Also uncharted waters I’m loving! I never know what to expect and each chapter is so good)

Anyways I was wondering if you have any head cannon’s of what a K.ataang marriage would look like? For me I imagine it being it being extremely passive aggressive, also A.ang is really selfish so that definitely would hurt their marriage. It’s kind of like the opposite side of the toxic coin with M.aiko being a screaming match and in your face constantly breaking up, K.ataang would be toxic but it’s quite and they would try to save face in public. I don’t know What do you think?

I kind of touched on it in Choices and Consequences, but I picture it being a lot of Katara swallowing her feelings and being a single mother to four children. I don't believe she was ever actually in love with Aang. She may have tried to tell herself she was, but I think the only reason she ended up with Aang is because she felt like she owed him. Kataang was unhealthy on both their parts, and while I do tend to focus on Aang (because he's awful, and I will not ever stop pointing that out), I think Katara was guilty of putting him on a pedestal. She knew the Avatar would save the world, and I think that's why she ignored Aang's flaws. Everyone wanted to end the war, but for her, it was a deeply intense and personal desire, and the Avatar would be the one to deliver that. It's a lot of pressure to put on a 12 year old who grew up slow in a world without war, and she knew that. On some level, Katara was aware of how much pressure Aang was under, which is why I think she was so insistent on everyone being gentle with him, even though they didn't have that kind of time. Then when he actually did end the war (he didn't, at least not alone, but the show refused to give credit where it was due) Katara felt some sort of obligation towards him and called it love.

Katara is a smart, passionate girl, and she would've wanted a partner who would appreciate that and respect her thoughts, feelings and opinions. The glimpses of her relationship with Aang in the early comics show me that she didn't have that with him. Aang didn't respect her feelings over those of his fangirls. He ignored her discomfort, and even thanked her for understanding why he needed to connect with those girls who were being horribly disrespectful because "sharing his culture"🤮. It wasn't their treatment of her that upset him. It was them doing something that offended him personally.

Meanwhile, Katara had to swallow her own feelings and smile through it all. That's how I see their relationship going. I think Katara might have convinced herself that he respected her thoughts and opinions because he relied on her as a caregiver and he took her everywhere, but I think as he grew into his own, he would've expected her to step back and be contented to be a homemaker/broodmare while he did the important Avatar work, which is why I think Katara wasn't present in that scene in LoK where bloodbending was banned, even though she was ostensibly the only other bloodbender in the world, but Aang was front and center. It's also my theory on why when Aang was about to go all in on pushing for anti-miscegenation, instead of her telling him that it would be a bad idea because of the effects it would have on the families and communities Aang would be separating, she appealed to how it would affect him.

I don't think their marriage would be passive aggressive. I think Katara would just make herself as small as possible and do her best to keep the Avatar happy and on track because that's what she owed him. She'd have moments of acknowledging her deep unhappiness and regret, but she wouldn't dwell on it. And she would convince herself she was content to be a devoted wife and mother, and nothing else.

[knockknockwhosthereartistism]

Always the bridesmaid never the bride

[t4tadrienette]

"Chichi and Goku should divorce"

Actually, whatever is going on between them is funny and beautiful. These two are playing house because neither of them knew what getting married and love was, but they still love and care for each other either way. Sure, most of the time, we see Chichi and Goku together she's always yelling at him, and he looks like he's being uncaring of her feelings, but that's not true. Chichi yells at Goku for being fight obsessed and always wanting to train, but at the end of the day, she knows that's something Goku loves to do, and also she's not unreasonable, she knows Goku has to train so that he can be able to protect the Earth, like it doesn't bother her that much in the end. Also, Goku is not that much uncaring of Chichi. He's not that selfish. He does listen to her, like he hated the idea of doing a job, but in the end, he still agreed to do it to make her happy. Also, Goku himself said he likes her personality and temper. At the end of the day, most of those things are used as gags. If either of them was genuinely unhappy in this relationship, they would have done something about it

[backpackingspace]

Young odysseus convincing everyone Ithaca is nothing but a poor island with rocks and goats to avoid any raids/conquerors/so he doesn't get murdered for talking to Helen bc "it's not like he's a real choice"

Young odysseus falling in love with Penelope at the same event: wait. Wait shit I fucked up hold on just hear me out

[ladysophiebeckett]

don hermes, ur days a numbered i think.

[atopvisenyashill]

not an f&b aegon ii fan, not a hotd aegon ii fan, but a secret third thing (a fan of the aegon ii that only exists in my mind)

[wonder-worker]

A.J Pollard’s biography on Edward IV was so cringe lol (generic; minor but frustrating inaccuracies; intensely judgmental at times and oddly dismissive at others while never considering the broader context; entirely diminished and trivialized Elizabeth Woodville as both queen and wife of his main subject in the name of "defending" her; created a false dichotomy between Edward and Henry VII’s styles of ruling and lauded the latter at the former’s expense even though Henry literally followed Edward’s example for the very things Pollard was criticizing Edward for; had a downright nonsensical and thoroughly misleading conclusion about Edward’s legacy & Richard’s usurpation that was based entirely on hindsight, Pollard's own assumptions, and the complete downplaying Richard’s agency and actions to emphasize what Pollard wrongly and misleadingly claimed were Edward's so-called 'failings', etc, etc)

I wanted to buy his book on Henry V but after reading this shitshow and the synopsis of that book, im guessing it's going to be 10x worse, so...no thanks

[silvantransthranduiltrash]

Feanor’s Legit Family Issues

Look, i’m not saying that Feanor was a swell guy to be around (especially his step mom and half sibs) (with the only exception being nerdanel and his sons of course (good dad and husband feanor for the win))

But if i, and only i, had been the only child whose parents were divorced and father remaried in the entirety of the country, AFTER my mom died in childbirth(specifically mine), and then chooses to not come back to me, specifically bc of the gods in order to let my dad remarry a woman who’s been mooning after my dad since before my mom died, and to have all that essentially be thrown in my face constantly bc people gossip and rumors spread,

I too would have an enormous inferiority complex and be ready to throw hands at any given second, whether it be at my father, his family, or the gods themselves.

Let Feanor be angry and frustrated with his family situation, bc it’s a legit mess and no one should have expected for him to just “deal with it” when he was a kid when this all went down and no one had any idea what to do.

(Ps, friendly reminder that they didn’t have therapists at the time and were essentially only just starting to really create a stable civilization, so no one would know how to deal with this situation, especially since it’s literally one of a kind, and it looks like the finwe fam was not that good at communicating)

[thewritingpossum]

Also reading her household book does confirm that Isabella of France directly corresponded with Hugh le Despenser the elder during the 1310's...Much to think about...

[scarecrowdrugs]

So I've lately been trying to come up with things for Shivers Jonathan to affectionately call Clarice and I tentatively was going for him calling her either Girl or Child, but I was re-reading Year One and uhhhhhhh

Y I K E S