#like I know Marcus treated her like a kid

[pedgito]

𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑 | Marcus Acacius x f!reader

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summary | A female gladiator plucked from the arena by the most powerful general in Rome, convinced to serve under his command. You learn that his taste for blood might not be so different from your own.

author's note | the horny demons strike again. this has a little plot, thanks to the beautiful minds of @ovaryacted and @kedsandtubesocks who deal with my crazy so generously.

content warning | 18+ mdni, set pre-gladiator ii, description of war & mistreatment of women in roman society, female gladiator, dark-ish!acacius, reader has minimal backstory, but is revealed to be nameless (uses monikers given to her: medusa, fury, minerva), fighting, m*rder, blood tw, gore tw, sa warning (i have it annotated further below with content, but nothing graphic) acacius covered in someone elses blood as he fucks you, copious smut, biting as a little treat

word count — 8k

“How much?” Acacius inquires, tapping his finger against the iron bars holding you prisoner, staring back at the men. The ginger twins and a man—no, a general. Dressed in a toga of thick material, embroidered with intricate designs, gold bangles at his wrist, a telltale sign of high honor. 

“Oh, she is…” The older one, Geta, teeth digging into his bottom lip as he shakes his head, “priceless—quite the fighter, too.”

“Does she have a name?” 

Geta smirks to himself, “They call her Medusa. She favors beheading, it seems.” Geta waggles a finger through the bars and smirks, nose scrunching as he addresses you, “Correct?” 

You ignore him, responding with a stare—much like your given moniker; if looks could kill.

“She’s bested them all,” Caracalla boasts from beside his brother, Dundus fiddling with his hair from where she was perched on his shoulder, “even our lion that we’ve had since kids.”

“It was a stupid idea, your fault,” Geta retorts, “but—again, she’s not for sale.”

“I’ll conquer India within the next few nightfalls, a handful of new gladiators fresh for the choosing, for your entertainment—how does that sound?”

Greedy as they were and entirely too incompetent, Caracalla agrees before his brother can open his mouth. 

“Will you bring her back to visit?” Caracalla inquires with an underlying excitement—the poor brother was nothing but a dunce, erratic and impulsive, but all too easy to manipulate. “The others may miss her.”

“Indeed,” Another swift but convincing lie, Caracalla and Acacius shake hands on the deal before Geta can retort, fuming with rage as he stomps away.

He’d taken a liking to your fighting style despite his distaste for the arena. Strategic and skilled, brute strength and a drive that was built around pure survival but somehow all while maintaining the perfect amount of gracefulness that men did not. Constant calculation, finesse, it was like an art.

He’s gone through several guards over his rule, some from sacrifice but others out of pure ignorance. He needed a strong base, malleable but resistant. He could shape you into a leader, he thinks. He knows.

Your hard stare is like ice as the keys jingle into the lock, a defining click a resounding echo of freedom and General Acacius extends his palm.

A gesture of freedom, a new life, trepidation fills you despite your yearn for a way out of this prison. Here it was, served up on a platter covered in intricate facets of white and gold, stubble brushing his cheeks and soft brown eyes offering kindness.

This was not a man of sheer violence, not the tales they tell about him—this was a man of trouble, conflict, and an instinct to protect himself. And he’d chosen you.

Your hands slips into his, a similar roughness to match his own and scars that Acacius knew well enough of—you were a true fighter, a warrior.

The two boys—calling the men would be too easy, they often acted like spoiled children, were already off to their own chambers, and Acacius had only dropped his hard facade slightly, still under the watchful eye of Rome’s guards, he led you onto your new life.

-

“I cannot accept,” You argue, as respectful as you could manage, hands crossed firmly over your front, near your waist as you spoke to General Acacius in his private office at home, a place few have stepped foot into, but yet somehow, again, you were given a free pass.

“Are you refusing my order?” Acacius counters, there’s pillowyness to his tone, almost taunting.

“Sir—er, General,” It was all new to you, formalities, structure, rules, “I…am a woman.”

“I am not blind,” Acacius squints his eyes slightly, before leaning back in the creaky chair, “my men—they will not question my choices. They listen, they do their duties. They need strong leadership. Gladiator, I believe you can bestow that upon them.”

“I am a stranger to you, you know nothing of me,” You tell him, a full truth, “General, I fear you may have made the wrong decision, I am not what you think I—”

Silently, Acacius fingers curl around the handle to a drawer hidden behind his desk, pulling out a sharp knife with a handle carved of bone, twisting it in his grip before he’s rearing his arm back, throwing it in your direction.

It zips by with force, the tip of the knife snagging and burying itself deep into the wall behind you, your head whipping to the side to follow it, the sharp blade barely missing the skin of your ear. 

Quick reflexes. You turn back to a smirking Acacius.

“I am positive, had I thrown that between your eyes you would have caught it without overthinking the consequences—most of my men would do the same,” Acacius lectures, standing with his brutish frame and walking toward the wall, the soft flow of a breeze kissing at your fists.

“Though, I have another proposition,” Acacius says lightly, twisting the knife in his hand, the pointing spinning against his fingertip as he circles around you, “—attack me.”

“Sir,” You argue, “that surely defeats the purpose of—”

His fist balls up tight and aims for your side. Acacius sees it, the anticipation as you block his hand. He chuckles underneath his breath, “Please, continue,” He teases, twisting out of your grip to pull another punch that you block with ease—he was going easy, you think.

Natural reaction takes hold and his test quickly turns into a full-out brawl, twisting and slipping underneath his grip until you have him pinned against a nearby wall, teeth bared with his forearm pressed against his throat, struggling to grip his free arm.

The real test is here, as Acacius bares the knife near your neck, an immediate reaction to protect yourself rather than go for the kill shot, knowing that anyone of normal skill would be too full of bloodlust to think of anything other than killing you. Protection and defense came first, taking the small nick of a cut to your own forearm before you’re knocking the knife out of his hand and wrestling him to the ground with a swift kick to his leg, rendering him helpless.

“Indeed, you are exactly what I think you are,” Acacius says with finality, “I want you to lead my personal guard. Whatever it is I must do to obtain that, my lady I will do—riches, bribery—”

You push away from him with a heavy exhale, standing and adjusting your clothes, brushing your hair away from your face, “No need, I will do it.”

Acacius rolls to his back, hand extending once more. 

This time, it is you offering the help as he uses the leverage to rise to his feet before speaking to you with a triumphant tone. 

“Commander,” He grins, “let us plan.”

–

He often asks of your lineage, your home. But, there is nothing to offer. A long conquered piece of land now under the rule of Rome and a home that was never a home. An orphan you had always been, nameless, taking greedily whatever name was bestowed upon you. 

In the arena it was Medusa, the tale of a vicious woman with god-like power. Caracalla had told you of the story, the boys having taken a liking to you in different ways. Geta was fiendish, hungry, often seeking you out for his own pleasure to which you wouldn’t deny. Couldn’t. He could be rough, but he wasn’t.

He seemed lonely, the poor boy.

Carcalla was only searching for a friend despite his unruly, chaotic nature. When he wasn’t ruling with tyranny over Rome, terrorizing the townspeople, he was telling you stories.

Other times it was only she. Or her. Or just girl. The girl.

You were only what people assumed of you, expected you to be.

��Medusa, ay?” A greasy looking man confirms, one of the six men who were to be under your command, “The gladiator?”

“You will respect her,” General Acacius had warned them, “or an apology will be your dying breath.”

It had struck most of them with fear. Most of them.

And for many nights, countless, it seems—the transition of leadership was smooth. You had an unyielding grip on them, awaiting direction, following your orders. It was the kind of rush most would only dream of, and as a woman, it was an unforeseen privilege. 

“They address you as Medusa, too,” Acacius notes during a roundtable session as the other men wander off for dinner, “do you wish for them to address you differently?”

“I have no name, General,” You admit, “I am whatever I must be. If they think of me as so, that is what I am. Though, I would love to turn a few of them into stone, given I was granted her powers.”

“I believe you could manage that feat without them,” Acacius jokes, “—but, nameless? Even at birth?”

“I know nothing of my birth parents. They told me I was found wrapped in cloth under the bridge that led into the town your army eventually turned to rubble,” A bittersweet feeling, speaking unusually out of term, facing him with the facts, “though, it does not matter. I enjoy the fear they have of me, keeps wandering hands at bay.”

Such an enigma, Acacius eyes you curiously. It was the most you’ve opened up to him since retrieving you from your cell, and even then, still forcing him to face the consequences of war.

The guilt followed him at every waking moment.

“Do you need anything further of me, General?” You ask politely, “You have spoiled my appetite as of late and your men are greedy with the stew.”

“You are dismissed,” He speaks distantly, turning over the thick, coarse paper with a drawn out map of the territory they were to invade soon, a lingering well wish leaving his lips, “sleep well, commander.”

Unfortunately, you’ve turned to sleeping with a knife under your bedroll—with a lingering ache of betrayal, you weren’t allowing yourself to lower your guard.

-

The attacks do not start at night. Rather during the day, when the General is off and away, scouting ahead further when half of his army while the other half sticks at camp, keeping claim.

That is when the insults come, the disbelief, the mockery.

Most of his men settled with the idea, having accepted your position even if it displeased them. 

But, there was one. Like a bull—hardheaded and stocky, fists and arms like clubs, testosterone radiating from his body in crashing waves. He wants you to fear him, submit to him. 

You feel it. You see it. And you’ve been through it before, other large and brutish gladiators thinking with their muscles rather than their brains. It wouldn’t take long for them to meet their demise, but this one was…different.

He approaches you with a smile than anyone could see right through, a finger brushing your cheek as he pushes a strand of hair behind your ear, leaning in to brush his lips against the shell of it.

“They are hungry,” He drips of vicious intention, “—I say, you give us a show. Entertain us, Medusa.”

Your eyes snap to him, staring him down.

“Pitiful Acacius isn’t here to save you,” He warns, “though, I have reason to believe he is as weak as most men—spread your legs and he’ll be begging for a taste, too.”

“I will gut you where you stand,” You warn, reaching for the thick machete at your waist, “you’re like a pig. Brainless and greedy for whatever you can get. Touch me, I dare you.”

The rest of the men are relatively quiet, but they do not stop him. Smirks and half-smiles hidden behind their cups, lounging on a log near their tents, enjoying the entertainment. 

It was nightfall, the fire crackling between you and them, a towering presence at your backside.

And as he dares to, his hand slides up your waist. 

Without hesitation you flip the weapon in your grip, grabbing at his wrist and slicing at his arm—a featherlight touch, it was merrily a glorified papercut, but his eyes widened in shock.

“Let us see how well you touch without fingers,” You threaten, flipping the machete until it is pointing in his face, death grip on the handle if he dared to take it, taunting him with the sharp end of your blade, “hands?”

That deep, rumbling sound of hooves approaches through the darkness, everyone slowly falling back into their paces as you welcome back your General with a forced smile.

Acacius hands off the reins to another rider, taking scope of the situation that seemed to be defusing in front of him, but still—he notices. His eyes trade glances between you both before he nods at you to follow him.

Speaking under his breath, “The others have coined you as fury,” He laughs softly at the pseudonym, “little fury, they tell me. Like the Furies. I cannot say I disagree with them. Has he been pestering you long?”

Your brow furrows at the reference, lost on your ill-informed mind.

“Long enough,” You answer honestly, “though, he was bestowed a parting gift this time.”

You raise your blade, his blood still painting the weapon.

He raises the curtain to his tent, allowing you to enter before him.

“Do you know nothing of the Furies?”

“I was not privy to bedtime tales, General.”

He nods, thoughtful as his lips pull together in a thin line, slowly removing his armor as he sits, directing for you to take a seat opposite of him, a few feet away on a decaying stump.

“Goddesses,” He states simply, “of vengeance, striking the wicked down. You have…fire, deep within you. Do not let them put it out, it is your weapon.”

You nod obediently, feeling the humidity stick to your skin, clothes glued to your body as you sit in the uncomfortable heat. There was no world in which you felt safe enough to strip down, quell your body of this unbearable summer weather. You would rather suffer, thick garb covering your body.

Acacius tilts his head, but does not comment.

“I require your protection tomorrow, we must scout an additional day and I fear danger is imminent—relay this to them,” He instructs, “and my lady, if you fear they will visit you at night, that they might strike when you’re vulnerable, you are welcome here.”

He already anticipates your response—he knows, but the gesture was an offer. A kindness. 

“If they try, you will be searching for new men by sunrise, General.”

Acacius smirks in amusement, nodding to your words.

“It would not be difficult to replace them,” He notes, “though, little fury, you are irreplaceable.” 

-

General Acacius wasn’t an easy man to protect, but you managed. Over the few weeks that you had taken point within his guard it has leant you plenty of opportunities to prove your worth, slaughtering opposing soldiers like cattle for the glory of Rome, his booming voice pronouncing vie victis as the dead are laid rest under fire and smoke.

But, conflict comes when you are faced with a decision as the camp was raided under complete, utter darkness. It was your shift to guard the General, perched outside of his tent with constant, roaming eyes. Eventually, you drift. It was peaceful, nature taking hold and pulling you under, awoken to the sound of blood curdling screams, the ground painted with the innards of both Acacius’ men and the others.

You were forced with a choice—defend the camp, something Acacius would have told you to do in a moment of desperation, a self-sacrificing man himself. Ironic, given your position, that you even think otherwise. Of course, your feet pull you toward him, whipping the flowing fabric of his tent door back.

There was a knife at his neck, a man towering over him. He’d snuck past—taken advantage of your exhaustion and your mistake was putting the General’s life at risk, his face stoic as he pushed back against the blade with his palm.

Without thinking, you rush toward the man, pulling back at his collar to plunge the knife pointed at Acacius into his own throat, a silent death through the notch of his neck, the blood flowing out like a river, tossing the lifeless man to the side before you’re reaching for your General.

“Do not worry,” He assures you as he rises, still groggy from sleep, “go—protect our camp.”

“But, General,” You plead, not realizing that your hand was grasping on his own, or that he had initiated the touch as a gentle push, a confirmation that he was truly alright, “it is my fault.”

His eyes peer behind you and to the man lying lifeless on the floor, blood pooling around his body.

“Though, it seems you have done your duty,” Acacius comments, head turned down as he stares at the body before his eyes peer up at you under his dark lashes, pensive, “now—kill them.”

-

You had lost a hundred or so men, nothing to the army of five thousand, but any loss was felt within General Acacius’ army—men of honor, with families or not, deserved a proper farewell. 

Covered in the blood of many, some of your friends and some of strangers, hair matted and reeking of death, you approach General Acacius who was sending off a group of men to begin digging the mass grave to dispose of the bodies.

Your body ached, bruised and nicked from battle—you had killed at least five hundred men alone. Pure rage and fury, not a memory of it as you approached him now, a blank stare void of emotion that concerns Acacius, his hand reaching for your wrist as you begin to pass him, heading for your own tent to collapse in exhaustion. 

“You did well,” He notes, catching your gaze as he turns his head to infiltrate your line of sight, “wash off before you turn in, you…reek. There’s a river beyond the bend—clean, warm.”

You nod despite only paying half-attention to his words, walking mindlessly toward the river before you are faced with the unfortunate crowd of men, undressed to their natural state, avoiding the watchful eyes and preying gazes, stripping your armor off down near the empty end of the river, pulling at your tangled hair, pulling off each remaining piece of clothing despite your body’s protest, screaming for relief.

It wasn’t unfamiliar, the looks—you bathed alongside all the men under the arena without a thought, knowing most of them were vying for freedom and wouldn’t dare risk it by allowing their cocks to work overtime, forgetting rational thought.

But, to them, you were a trophy. Someone—something, to be conquered.

The thin, flimsy undergarments come off last, stepping into the water and sinking down slowly. The blood washes away as you scrub, back turned as you dip your head into the water before committing  entirely, plugging your nose as you dip underneath the water, finding peace in the silence.

“I had my doubts, Medusa,” A voice bellows from behind as you rise, your eyes peeling open with a quickly growing annoyance, “of you being a true woman, but—”

“Careful,” One of the men warned, a stable boy, “she will run to the general.”

It was the same man from many nights ago, big and brutish, always looking for a fight, even with the other men. He hadn’t learned his lesson, clearly. 

“Acacius is busy,” He retorts, “so—what say you give us the show you owe us?”

You stand frozen in place, staring daggers at the man who seems only more amused as the anger in you builds, permeates.

(sa themes below: noncon touching, reader is naked in front of several men)

“Get out of the water,” He demands, “unless you prefer I come get you.”

You survey your choices, knowing that staying in the water wasn’t a safe option. They can and will wait you out. Your eyes track toward your clothes, further away than you had left them. Your eyes track the scar on his forearm and you smirk, teething peeking out behind your lips, “How beautiful,” You tell him, his eyes slowly following your own, “quite the scar, is it not? Fancy another?”

You spot the knife sheathed in his leather belt, taking your chances despite the vulnerability that remains with your naked frame on full display as you retreat from the water, he nods with confidence as you approach, a faint whistle in the distance that you’ve heard before. The oaf seems to ignore it, though. His large hand comes to your breast in an instant, body dripping wet and a sickness churning in your gut as the sticks of torch and fire approach amongst the murmuring crowd of men, less than subtle about the rowdiness that was ensuing.

He pulls you into his body with a greedy hunger as his opposite hands gropes at your backside, following the curve of your ass as your hand snakes toward the blade, but the voice that rips through the crowd is enough to wake the dead, silence falling over the area in an instant.

“Remove your hand,” Acacius voice travels, the same booming voice he uses to declare victory over a new territory, “or I will remove it myself.”

“General,” The man addressed in a drunkish manner, inviting, “she was offering—Medusa, tell him.”

Your silence is expected, his hand wandering toward your other breast, biting hard enough at the inside of your cheek that it draws blood—Acacius sees your hand wrapping around the blade and speaks again, approaches closer as the mud sticks to his boots, “I will tell you once more. Remove it.”

The man eyes you with disdain, dropping his hands away as you relinquish your hold of his weapon, allowing the breath caught in your chest to escape, but it doesn’t stop the touch that follows, taunting with its intention as his palm curls around the back of your head, tilting your head to the side as he squeezes, “I forget—you are the General’s property after all.”

(end of sa themes)

“Take him,” He orders the other lingering guards, men who’ve never shown you anything other than respect—they value their lives and limbs, as any sane person would, “and start the fire.”

Acacius looks around at the lingering eyes, “I suggest all of you return to camp. Now.”

That was all it took, most of them scrambling for their own clothes and armor as they retreated like scurrying mice or dogs with their tail between their legs, leaving you under Acacius' careful gaze. He reaches down to fetch you dirtied clothes, looking them over with disgust.

He removes the black cape around his shoulders without a word, opening it as an offering. Desperate to cover yourself, you slip your arms in the sleeves with his help, his eyes wandering no further than your face as you turn to him, tucking the cape around yourself. He reaches for the hood, pulling it down.

“Come,” He demands, “I would like you to witness.”

–

The screams are audible as you approach camp, a few feet behind Acacius as he rounds the fire and separates the crowd to create a path, approaching the man bound at his feet, one arm roped at his side and secured away, leaving him to fight the men that held him down.

“General, gen—general, I am sorry,” He pleads, “she—you do not understand, she taunts. She is poison, not a leader,” He continues, despite Acacius lack of response, making a motion with his hand to remove the man’s weapon and hand it to him, pulling it from it’s leather cover and examining the blade, he makes a soft sound to himself, “Acacius—you have known me for years. Do not let this woman trick you.”

“Gag him,” He ignores his pleading, leaning down to grip the hand of the man bound below, “your humility is amusing, but your greed is what is costing you. She has shown you mercy, but I will not.”

The cut isn’t a clean slice, either. It takes several swings before the limb detaches, blood spurting out of the appendage as the man screams in pain, dragged helplessly toward the fire before they’re cauterizing the wound—your body unreactive as you watch but silently stewing with frustration.

He had spared the man, sure. But, making a show of it? A mockery?

“Commander, with me,” General Acacius demands, waiting for you to snap back into reality, your eyes meeting his face, blood covering his armor and hands, somehow avoidant of most of the mess.

When you are alone, you don’t hold back.

“I would have handled him,” You tell him, “killed him myself.”

“This is not the arena, we do not go around slaughtering our men without reason,” Acacius retorts, “he will be demoted and replaced and be a reminder to the others that you—”

“I do not need you defending my honor, General.”

“Men will not change, this—society, it does not cater to your safety. To them, women are nothing but vanity and pleasure—”

“And property,” You remark, “lest you forget how you obtained me, General.”

Acacius approaches you near the table at the center of his tent, only a foot away as he removes his armor plate, pulling it over his head, “Had I not, you would have paid for your own freedom eventually. I needed a leader—strong, smart, powerful.”

“By punishing that man, you are sending the message that I need my battles fought for me,” You argue, “and as if these men did not already think I was the General’s plaything, what will they think now?”

Acacius sighs through his nose, pulling at the fabric of his tunic that bares his chest, “I believe they will behave,” He tells you, “because you will not be as kind when you take their heads. He was an example and a pain in my ass for years, he deserved more than that.”

“And what will they think of me now? I am naked under this cloak, your cloak. I must walk the path back to my tent surrounded by men deprived of the things your bestial minds crave.”

Acacius chuckles to himself, “I have been thinking,” He begins, “that you deserve a new name. Something indicative of all that you are. Some of the men award each other with monikers of war. Medusa seems to have become more of a taunt, in light of recent events.”

He unties the leather bands at his wrist, eyeing you with a mischievous gaze as he keeps you waiting, “Have you heard the tale of Minerva, my lady?”

It isn’t a surprise, but you shake your head.

“A goddess of many things—strategy, warfare, victory, and justice…but mostly importantly, wisdom. I have seen the way you command the battlefield, it is not lost on me.”

“You have…many stories, General.”

“My mother told me one every night as she tucked me, it seems they have stuck with me.”

Tell me more, the words linger in the back of your throat.

“I am barely standing, General. I must retire for the night.”

“Indeed,” He agrees, shamelessly stripping down to his undergarments to walk toward the clean bowl of water and wash away the drying blood, “and Minerva,” the name is completely foreign, but you respond with a hum, “your position is yours alone. You have earned it. Do not let them tell you otherwise.”

-

Like Medusa, the name sticks.

And thankfully, you were a few weeks away from a much-earned break from war, returning to Rome as a free woman for the first time, having finally fallen into a comfortable rhythm with the rest of his personal guards—a mutual respect that had been missing, men waiting for your command.

Long nights of planning spent in Acacius tent, surrounded by the other guards until they filter out one by one, growing curiosity and questions lead to many hours of conversation that you, for many months, had been deprived of in the arena.

“You did promise my return,” You remind him, “they will be expecting you to keep that.”

“They are young, fickle men,” Acacius berates with amusement, “I am sure they have moved on.”

“Do you fear them? The emperors?”

“They are spoiled brats,” Acacius responds, an answer in itself.

“They would visit me often,” You admit, “Caracalla seemed to be—it seems the syphilis in his loins was truly affecting his brains, often he would not even make sense. Or he would come to me, complaining of his brother.”

“You had built quite the rapor,” Acacius notes with a smile, sipping at the broth from his stew as he invites you to sit on his fancy, expensive bed cot. Much nicer than your own, cushioned and wrapped in velvet, “What of Geta?”

“He liked my breasts,” You begin bluntly, “and my—”

“He forced himself upon you?”

“I was property of Rome, Acacius,” You didn’t often say his name in such a relaxed way, blaming it on the full belly and exhaustion, “therefore I was his. I have suffered much worse than a lonely man searching for comfort.”

Acacius seems thoughtful, pensive as he stirs at his quickly diminishing stew. He does catch your lingering gaze on his face after a while, mesmerized by the scar underneath his eye, he encourages you.

“Ask, if you are so curious, my lady,” He places his bowl to the side, empty.

“Your scar,” You nod, pressing your finger in a mirroring way under your eye, “is there a story?”

“Nothing to be told with boast,” He chuckles, “a wound of battle, is all. Like many of the scars on my body,” He tells you, raising his naked forearm to display the various scars, noting the few that paint his clavicle, “and you, Minerva?”

It seems to have become a particular quirk of his, a lilt to his voice as he calls you by your given name—the others have become accustomed to it, too. But, with Acacius, it felt special. Treasured.

You raise your eyebrows at his question, quietly unlacing your top to pull it down your shoulder, sliding a hand over your breast to respect the dynamic between you both—him being your general and you, his subordinate. His eyes squint as he examines the jagged and staggered scar on the side of your breasts—not quite faded, healed but relatively fresh.

“He is a biter,” You warn him with amusement, “Geta.”

Only one scar, given by one of the emperors, somehow untouched from real battle. It was miraculous. You readjust your top, feeling the heat from your neck rise to your face at what you had just willingly offered over to Acacius. Unfortunately, he had a way of lowering your guard.

With that talk, it seemed like a true breakthrough in your partnership with Acacius.

He always allowed you to speak for yourself, never overstepping the boundary you had argued with him over, leading the charge with an iron fist and handling the younger, fresh faced soldiers who just seemed…lost. 

It was hard to ignore the lingering glances over time, often during meetings as you spoke, not a look of attention but rather…ravishing. Hungry, but in a subdued manner. You weren’t sure where the lines had blurred, but they had.

Possibly somewhere within the long nights of conversation or the lingering touches that shouldn’t have been as charged as they were, handing over a piece of armor or blade and his calloused fingertips would circle your wrist, pause, before his brain would catch up to his actions. 

“Go on,” He encourages after a final night of victory and triumph, many of the men howling and singing tunes around the fire, drinking from their cups and enjoying the pleasures of alcohol and comradery, “you are missing the fun,” He was unnaturally quiet, subdued to his quarters, leaning against the outside of his tent as he watched with amusement but subtle dismay.

A younger man approaches with his hand extended, a gleeful expression on his face, “Minerva, please—come, you must enjoy the party, too.”

The general gives you an expectant look as you let the young man lead you away, curling his fingers around your own and pulling you with vigor, cheering loudly to blend in with the energy of the men despite how you worry about the man several feet away, your eyes tracking his disappearing figure as he slips into his tent, eventually pulled away by another man, one of the guardsmen who adored you, asking for a dance.

You agree hesitantly as the crowd roars louder, eyes searching for the exact reason as you see a few men leading a line of women into camp, little clothing to allow them modesty, a less than subtle shushing come from the men as they lead them deeper into camp, and the fear in you tells you to run to the General.

“It is not what you think,” The young man tells you, “they are dancers—no harm will—”

You bypass him, straight toward the men leading the path, stopping them cold.

“They are not here against their will, my lady.” He assures you, though, that could be argued.

“Minerva, Acacius has made it clear that harming women, you—is far worse a crime than anything else. Truly, it is not what you believe it to be.”

“I am telling the General, informing him of their presence,” You admit, “so I suggest you and the rest of the cattle be on your best behavior?”

They both give crisp, curt nods.

As you make the direct line for Acacius’ tent, you are ignorant to his silent plea for privacy at the tied rope, intertwined with gold fabric, pushing apart the fabric doors without much of a thought, reality hitting you as you catch a glimpse of his naked frame, patting down his body with a clean cloth as he washed himself, other hand curved around his cock as he stretched his neck up and back, the water splashing as he dipped the towel into the basin, only aware of your present when you make a small, unrecognizable sound as a result of your own stupidity. 

“I—General,” Your eyes widen as they take on a mind of their own, straight down the valley of his chest as he turns to you, quickly spinning on your heels, “I should have—I apologize, uh, the men…they are—”

“I was informed,” He assures, “and they have been warned, I assure you.”

“Yes, hm—um,” It was the only time Acacius had seen you flustered

“I assumed the rope was a clear message,” Acacius teases, “but—it is not your fault. I should have informed you of their…antics.”

He pulls the tight, fabric shorts over his hips, clearing his throat, peering over your shoulder you breathe a sigh of relief, “General, I would like to apologize for—” You swallow, watching as he turned barefoot on his heels, the fabric of the immodest undergarments curving around the stretch of his cock, half-hard under the fabric and the outline of thick head pushing against the linen.

You don’t realize how long you’re staring until he’s approaching with a tap of his finger on the underside of your chin, “There is no need for that,” He assures you, your nose scrunching up in confusion at the sudden touch, feeling the subtle shift as he reaches behind you for the clothes folded on the table at your backside, “surely you must return to the party,” He encourages, “celebrate a well-earned victory.”

“Why?” You counter, “When you will not.”

“Minerva,” He warns.

“You are distracted,” You note, watching as Acacius now avoids your gaze, “it is worrying me.”

He cannot admit the reason why. That it may be you. 

“Acacius,” You call his name, hoping that will break through to him.

“Leave me,” He asks, rather than demanding, “I need to rest.”

It was a lie, but you do not fight him on it.

–

Silence blankets the camp in the early morning hours—the witching hours, as you’ve come to know them. Sleeping securely in your tent, bedroll tucked under your head as you drift. Unaware of the creeping men planning your untimely demise, assuring that the entire camp was asleep before they strike, arms and legs rendered useless as the third shoves a piece of cloth into your mouth and ties it around the back of your head, screams muffled behind the fabric, stripped of your weapons. Helpless, they think.

During the struggle, one of them grows frustrated, banging the hard rock against your skull and plunging you back into darkness.

When you come to, you are unclear of where you are, but it was outside, arms above your head against the thick limb, feet bound tight as well, a sting and a string of wetness running down the side of your face as your blurry vision becomes clear.

“Little Minerva,” the voice begins mockingly, all too familiar to your ears, “he has named you—you must feel special, ay?”

He kneels in front of you, the one hand he has left curling around the forearm of what was left of his other appendage, “And you expect to return back to Rome as a free woman,” He laughs, snorts wetly through his nose, “I assure you that will not happen. Rather, you will be a dead one.”

The other two lingering figures join in on the laughter.

“How did you say it?” He taunts, “I will gut you where you stand?”

“It took three of you to capture me,” You retort, “your confidence is lacking sorely.”

He clears the back of his throat, rearing up a ball of saliva in his mouth before he’s spitting at you.

“I will slaughter all of you with my hands,” You promise, “untie me, unless you are fearful.”

Driven by ego, it doesn’t take much for him to agree.

But, as he had underestimated you the first time, and the second, he would regret the third.

The two men come at you first, enough tussling and your teeth ripping into the ear of one of them, searching blindly for a thick, heavy and sharp edge branch that would handle the weight of piercing through skin and muscle, finding the right weapon at the perfect moment—the attacker rearing back as the other approached, driving the make-shift stake through his chest as the other tackled you to the ground, a poor miscalculation on his part as you get your legs around his neck, arms pinned at an painful, awkward ankle until his neck snaps from the force, the ox-like man awaiting in the shadows like a coward, blood spilling from your mouth as you scream.

The heavy hooves approach like roaring thunder and the instant your attacker catches on, his attempts to flee are ruined by the barricade of men at all angles, General Acacius at the head of the charge, a rageful expression on his face. Feral unlike you have ever seen.

He jumps off of his horse, ordering the men to capture the surviving man once again, looking around at the lifeless bodies beside you, assuring his men he would handle you and the mess, demanding they return to camp at once. 

You look around aimlessly, blood staining your face as Acacius struggles to capture your attention, eventually resorting to a strong, demanding hold on your face, cradling your head with his hands.

“Are you wounded?” He asks, then notices the trail of blood from your scalp, pushing away the hair to reveal with gash from the rock they had attacked you with, grimacing as he runs his finger over the wound in worry.

Suddenly, you are stricken with a need, “Give me your sword,” You tell him, eyes flicking up to meet his own, “I need your sword.” His movements are too slow, still concerned with you that you reach for the weapon yourself.

Pulling away, you approach one of the dead men with the sword, swinging it up over your head and down with force, beheading him in one go, before switching to the other man, less finesse as you swing—again and again, until there is nothing but a pool of blood, bone, and brain—Acacius steps in eventually, tossing the sword away as he holds you arms in his fierce grip, letting the screams rip from your chest as he sways with you, eventually falling to your knees in exhaustion. He uses his bare hands to wipe the blood away from your neck, your face, feeling the soft shake of your body as you sob in silence, overcome with an emotion you so rarely let surface.

–

The public execution follows the next morning, everyone rousing from their tents to the loud, blaring horn from the ship just off shore—Acacius had assisted you back to camp on his horse, slumped against his back as you rode until the trampling finally stopped, sliding off the horse and into Acacius’ arms as he led you inside his tent.

He didn’t sleep the entire night, watching over you instead—he rarely blinked, staring off into nothingness as he tried to keep the vicious rage at bay, by morning, he was itching.

“You may stay,” He tells you, “your head—I cleaned it while you slept.”

You shove his hand away as he attempts to help you sit, slowly dressing yourself, eventually putting together the fact that Acacius had undressed and bathed you at some point throughout the night, not a speck of blood or spit remaining.

“Are you ordering me to stay?”

Acacius shakes his head, his hand still hovering close by.

“Then I will attend.”

He doesn’t argue against it and there is, despite your weariness to admit, a relief of your chest as Acacius rears back his blade, silencing the final scream the man lets out, pleading for his life. The blood sprays over his face, a strong grimace at the sheer strength it takes to behead the man, but the general manages it with one strike of his blade.

His speech follows, a deep and unsettling warning to all of his men. A final one.

Men, wide-eyed with fear, agree without resistance before he sends them off to ready the ship for departure and a meal before they begin their long trek back to Rome—he is less than gentle as he grabs your wrist without warning and pulls you alongside him, back to his tent.

–

He ties the rope with a stiff tug, before turning to you, stumbling on your feet as pull off his cape, having offered it to you for a second time, assuring that dressing in your usually armor wasn’t needed today, not as you began your travels, a flowing dress tied at your shoulder and waist that you were used to wearing during the showings back in Rome, parading you around like a prize.

“Acacius, perhaps you should sit,” You suggest, watching his hands curl into fists at his sides before he’s spinning on his heels and toward you, cradling your face like he had the night prior, but even this close, it felt like he was trying to keep you at a distance, “—I am sorry, if I did something—”

“I crave you,” Acacius admits, “you must know.”

Your lips part, gearing up the courage to speak, but falling short.

“Nights I have spent,” He breathes, shaking his head, the curls tickling your forehead as they meet, “thinking—wondering—”

“Acacius, why now?” You question him, “As we are homebound, back to your wife. Surely, she would have my head.”

Acacius shakes his head with a soft, but fond laugh.

“Our marriage is complex,” He explains, “Something I do not care to explain in great detail at this moment, you see—,” His hand curves around the side of your neck, tilting your head up, lips grazing against his own as he speaks, “I had no such intention for things to get like this, but you have proven to make things…difficult, for me,” He breathes out through his mouth, his eyes opening slowly to meet yours, “and I need you, should you have me.”

You could easily deny him, knowing he would back off in an instant. But, like this, clearly driven by adrenaline and instinct, riding the high of such a charged execution, he was craving something deeper than an outlet to release the built up tension. 

He craved connection—through little moments of conversation and touches, someone at level-ground, an equal. You were his equal. He’d given you so much since, and you would be lying to yourself if you denied the thoughts that had riddled your mind too.

“I do not much prefer a soft touch,” You finally reply, “or gentle care.”

He silences you with a kiss, bruising and tense as he licks into your mouth, hungrily searching for more areas to taste and devour, licking along the column of your neck as the blood of another smeared into your skin, his fingers working quietly to undo your dress, in turn wrestling with his armor and clothes, nearly ripping the fabric of his shirt from his body as you claw at him.

Wet kisses and clashing tongues fill the silent room, a screeching sound as your back hits the roundtable before he’s lifting from the back of your thighs and scooting you onto the surface, naked and bare as he spreads your thighs apart to move between them, clearly restraining himself as he licks, teeth grazing carefully.

“I enjoy them,” You admit, “Do not hold back, Acacius. They are what I will keep with me, if this be the only time.”

Like a dog cut loose of his chain, his teeth sink into the breasts mirror the mark of the other, hissing as his teeth break through the skin just enough for the subtle trickling of blood to rise to the surface before he’s soothing the wound with his tongue, staring up at you through a half-lidded gaze, prowling for more. He dips lower, falling to his knees as he pulls you toward the end of the table, ass hanging near the edge as his teeth sink into your thigh, near the swell of your cunt as you moan, fingers digging into sweaty, matted curls.

“Acacius,” You plead breathily, “I want your mouth.”

Where—it did not matter. But, Acacius fulfills that need as he licks a broad strip through your cunt, nose buried in the coarse curls, still smelling of the fresh soap he had bathed you in, taking delicate care as he washed your body, letting you slump into him, soaking him in the process. 

“Yes, that—” You respond airily, eyes fluttering shut as his tongue dips inside of you, swirling your slick around on his tongue and sucking harshly at your clit, staring up at you daringly from his position beneath you, unwavering, “oh, gods above…”

Acacius chuckles below you,the sound vibrating against your cunt as your moans increase rapidly, thick fingers dipping inside your pulsating core, “This high—it feels like—”

He rises to press a kiss against your stomach, climbing, tongue licking over your belly button and between your breasts, “—like…” He encourages, “come on, my lady, do not sell out on me now,”

“Like a battle high,” You admit with a faint laugh, “though, different, but….”

He understands, driven by unbridled need, uncapped adrenaline. 

“Well, vae victis,” He taunts, “now—come here,” He squeezes at your hips and pulls you to him, his cock stiff, throbbing  between your legs before he is twisting and spinning you around, feet planting against the ground as he bends you over, fisting himself tight as he rubs his thick cock head between your folds, watching as your wetness coats him, sinking into your fluttering hole with little resistance, a sweet cacophony of noises releasing from your throat as you grip onto nothing, hand curling into a fist as you moan, open-mouthed and shameless.

“Harder,” You beg, forcing the word out between thrusts, blunt fingernails clawing at your hips, attempting to pull you in closer despite your proximity, as if he could consume and even that wouldn’t be enough, “Acacius, please.”

It was like instinct, his hand sliding up the back of your thigh to lift your leg up, pinning it up—up, until you feel the ache in your sore muscles as he holds you in place with a fist between the bend of your knee, heaving breaths at your neck as he fucks you into the hard surface of the table.

It was a pain you would feel in your bones, that would carry with you into the morning, marks that would last for longer, a remnant of this moment, the mess of blood smearing on your own skin as he melts against you, forehead resting against your shoulder as his gaze follows the movement of his hips, slow but powered thrusts that drilled into you, clawing at his skin to leave your own bruises. The hand that brushes against your core is your ultimate demise, feeling breathless as your orgasm pulls you under, muffled sobs into your fist as you bite down, fearful that it might draw attention. Though, Acacius seems preoccupied, still.

His hand seeks your neck, digging in as he pulled you up, “To your knees,” He demands softly, your body moving out a memory, dropping to the floor—though, the sight is much more tantalizing, Acacius fisting his cock tight, feral as he teeth were bared, like a man fresh from the slaughter, he comes with a deep and guttural groan, your tongue sliding against the underside of his bulbous head, thick spurts coating your tongue, his body shaking as you pull away, swallowing all that he had offered with a steady, locked gaze. He assists you upright, steadying you.

“For a man who has such a distaste for unnecessary violence, you wear it well,” It wasn’t a compliment, rather an observation, his eyes tracking your naked frame, fingertips tracing the curves of your body in admiration. 

“You are quite inspiring, Minerva,” He admits, gathering your thick dress and helping you redress in silence, tying the material around your body, “not everyone deserves mercy.”

Your smile is rare, but it is beautiful. And he wasn’t a man for such dramatics.

But, it could bring him to his knees, he thinks.

[alumi-san]

Decided to check Nina's Wiki page...

I'm sorry WHAT?!

[sage-nebula]

Thinking about how important it is that Wendy is a part of the Pines family. (Because she is, as much as Soos is. It's why she's in the family photos, such as the one representing Ford's happiness at the end of The Book of Bill.)

We don't know too much about Wendy's home / family life. Unfortunately, we don't a single Wendy-focused episode, and we don't get to learn too much about her outside of how she interacts with the main characters. But here is what we do know:

Wendy is the oldest of four siblings, with three little brothers. Wendy herself is 15. We are never given ages for her brothers, but given the photo that she shows Dipper of her younger self in "Double Dipper", I'm guesstimating that the youngest Corduroy brother (Gus) is about 6 in the present day. This is because young!Wendy was wearing braces and also noted to be "freakishly tall" for her age, and Gus was wearing a diaper in the photo (but standing on his own). Braces can take two to three years to be removed, and Wendy doesn't have them in the present day, meaning she was probably around 11 or 12 in the photo. Meanwhile, Gus was in a diaper but able to stand, meaning he was probably a toddler, likely around 2. So in the present day, Wendy is 15, Gus is around 6 (depending on if Wendy was 11 or 12 in the photo), and Marcus and Kevin (the middle brothers) are between 14 and 7.

Wendy's mother died when she was young. Given the age of Gus in the photo, we can estimate that Wendy's mother died when Wendy was, at youngest, 11 or 12 -- so, three or four years pre-canon. (Because any earlier than that and Gus couldn't have been born.)

Wendy's father is Manly Dan, who shouts just about every line of dialogue he has and routinely breaks things, including in his own house, albeit sometimes by accident. He also spends most of his time in a biker bar, though we do know that he does love his children. (e.g. is seen with the boys on both family fishing day and Summerween, is seen taking Wendy out for breakfast in "Dipper vs. Manliness").

Dan is the reason why Wendy has a summer job. As she says in "Gideon Rises", "If I can't work at the Shack, my dad's gonna force me to work at my cousin's logging camp up north." This implies that Wendy has to work somewhere, per a rule of Dan's.

In "Into the Bunker", Wendy has this to say when she comments on how she's excited to be going on an adventure with Dipper and Mabel: "It beats cleaning up after my dad at home." She says this with a frown, in a grousing tone. We're then treated to a clip of Dan breaking apart the cabin as mentioned above.

In "Society of the Blind Eye", before she's about to have her memories erased, Wendy confesses thus: "I'm stressed like 24/7. Have you MET my family?"

Wendy dreams about her mother every night. The glimpse of her dream that we're shown depicts her receiving a comforting hug from her mother.

The conclusions that I draw from the above are thus: prior to her mother's death, Wendy had what amounts to a normal family life in Gravity Falls. The Corduroys were a two parent household, her mother was there to help balance Dan out and raise the kids (Wendy included), and Wendy could, well . . . be a kid. It's possible, even, that some of Dan's more worrying traits (such as spending the majority of his time at a bar) didn't exist when Wendy's mom is alive. It's pure speculation on my part, but it's possible that Dan feels compelled to go to a bar to be aggressive (and drink, even if we don't see it because it's a kid's show) because that's how he processes his grief over his wife's death, away from his children's eyes and ears. He's trying to be a responsible father and not hurt his kids, while at the same time still not handling things in the most healthy way.

But back to Wendy. Once Wendy's mother died, the dynamic in the Corduroy household shifted. Dan was hit by the tidal wave of grief that comes with losing a spouse, as well as the sudden onslaught of being a single father to four children, one of whom was very possibly still in diapers. And if my speculation is correct and that he took to going to the bar to deal with his grief, then who is left to change Gus' diapers and get him potty trained? To operate the stove or oven or microwave to make sure that the boys (who would all be under age 10 at this point) got fed, and to make sure she got fed herself? To, in her own words, "clean up [her] dad's messes" when he was at home to make them by breaking apart the house with his own head?

Wendy.

Wendy was a child herself when her mother died, but she was the oldest child, potentially freshly into middle school while the boys were still in elementary, and the oldest daughter to boot. The girl, expected to know how to do "girl things" like cook and clean. I'm not saying that Dan told her to do these things, but we know from Wendy's personality that she is protective of those who need it (e.g. Dipper and Mabel) and, more importantly, that's her home and her family, and she does love them (she makes this clear in the Weirdmageddon episodes numerous times). She wouldn't let her little brothers starve, wouldn't let her youngest sit in a filthy diaper, would try to pick up the house if her dad and brothers wouldn't. Wendy would step up to do it out of necessity, even if she hated it and felt stressed out about it, especially while also feeling the crushing grief that comes with having lost her mother.

So Wendy, having lost her mother at a young age, probably had to step up into a pseudo-parental role in her own house, trying her best to fill the void that was left by her mother's passing even though she was only a child herself. And this is why she's "stressed, like, 24/7." Because not only are her father and brothers loud and chaotic (especially with Dan raising the boys into miniature versions of him), but because it's her responsibility (spoken or no) to keep the house in as much order as she can. It's little wonder that, outside of the movie that she and Dipper are watching in the beginning of "Into the Bunker", Wendy seems to spend as little time as possible in her own home.

So, how does this fit into it being important for Wendy to be part of the Pines family? Or, worded in a better way, why it's so important that she has the Pines as a second family, and the Mystery Shack as a second home?

As I said above, once Wendy's mother died, her ability to be a child in her own home effectively ended. Again, to make it clear, Wendy doesn't hate her family. In fact, it's the opposite; the Weirdmageddon episodes make it clear that she still loves her father and her brothers very much. But "Society of the Blind Eye" also makes it clear that they stress her out. She has a lot of complicated feelings, something that's understandable given her complicated situation.

But because she has to help keep the house together when she's at home, that means she can only really be a kid (or teenager, as the case may be) when she's outside of it. She has a lot of fun doing this with her friends, but sometimes a teen does need a home to relax in. And for Wendy, that home is the Mystery Shack -- and yes, that includes when she's on the clock.

Now, I know what you may be thinking: it's stated that Stan is a terrible boss, that he barks orders, that he yells -- how is that any different from her father? Well, I'll tell you how: the only time we actually see this is in "Boss Mabel", in which Stan being a boss who yells and barks orders at his employees is a plot point meant to create the conflict for the episode. Otherwise, we never really see Stan being an awful boss, and in particular we never see him being hard on Wendy. In fact, I would argue we see the opposite.

Here are things we know about Wendy's behavior at work, and Stan's response to her behavior at work:

Wendy constantly reads magazines while working the cash register, often right in front of Stan. Stan never tells her to put the magazine away.

Wendy often puts her feet up on the counter. Stan never tells her to take her feet off the counter.

Wendy goes up to the roof "all the time, every day" to the point where she has a chair and cooler up there. ("The Inconveniencing"). We don't know if Stan knows about this or not, but it's hard to believe he wouldn't if Wendy goes up there as much as she says she does.

When Stan told her to hang signs up out in the woods, she said, "I would, but I can't . . . reach . . ." while making no effort to get up to get the sign, and not removing her eyes from the magazine or her feet from the counter. Stan simply said, "I'd fire [. . .] you if I could." i.e. she got away with it 100%. ("Tourist Trapped")

When Stan double checks with Wendy and Soos that they'll wash the bathrooms while he's gone, Wendy says, "absolutely not" with a salute. Stan laughs and then says to stay out of trouble, not caring at all. ("The Inconveniencing")

Wendy was supposed to work the ticket stand all night at the party. She quit about ten minutes in and blatantly joined the party. Stan had to have seen her. He did nothing. ("Double Dipper")

Wendy claims in "Boss Mabel" that Stan doesn't let her have friends at work. In contrast, we see Robbie visit her at work all the time throughout their relationship (e.g. "Fight Fighters", "Boyz Crazy"), and Stan even comments on "is that the guy that's always making googly eyes at Wendy?" but otherwise has no problem with it. So again, it was a conflict invented for "Boss Mabel" that otherwise doesn't exist.

And that is just off the top of my head. The point is, Wendy is perhaps treated the easiest of the staff at the Mystery Shack. She's blatantly lazy and snarky and the most Stan ever does is grouse that he would "fire [her] if he could."

And this is a good thing.

The Mystery Shack, even if when she's on the clock, is clearly a place where Wendy can relax. It's somewhere she feels comfortable, rather than stressed. Yes, she's working -- but she's putting in the barest minimum effort because the stakes are the lowest they could possibly be. Because even though Stan grouses and complains about how little she cares, he won't fire her. He says he can't, but let's be honest, he could. One could argue that he'd be out a cashier, but he already is when the school year starts and Wendy has to go back to school. The Shack doesn't close down then, so it wouldn't close now if he fired Wendy.

But he won't fire her, because he knows that if he did, she'd be sent up north to her cousin's logging camp, a job she would hate and that would add on to the stress she already has from her home life. Stan has been in Gravity Falls for 30 years; he's been there since before Wendy was born. He knew her mother. He remembers when her mother died a few years ago. He probably saw how Dan's personality changed, how Wendy's personality changed from a more carefree little girl to a little girl who had to act more carefree than she actually was because she won't ever dare let anyone know she's anything but tough as nails, kinda like the guy he sees when he looks in the mirror. So he'll grouse at her about her laziness, and she'll complain about how much she hates having to work, but he'll also never hire another cashier even during the school year when the Shack maybe could use the extra help, and she knows that he both has an orthopedic back pillow and where it's kept, and that's as much as either of them will say about it. (Source for the orthopedic back pillow: "Soos and the Real Girl").

Wendy spends time at the Shack that would otherwise be spent at her home. When she decides to leave Tambry's party early, she goes to hang out at the Shack and watch movies with Stan, before the twins or Soos arrive ("Summerween"). She's likewise hanging out with the Pines and Soos watching television despite work clearly being over in the beginning of "Dreamscaperers". Wendy can relax at the Shack, can be in a home environment where she has no responsibilities, where she can simply be a teenager without also having to be a pseudo-parent. She can be a big sister figure to Dipper and Mabel without the added responsibilities of having to make sure they're fed and brought up right. She can be snarky with Stan, and he'll be snarky back, and there are no risks or consequences at all.

It's important that Wendy is a member of the Pines family, because here there are no complications for her. She loves her original family, but things got difficult when her mother died, and they won't ever stop being difficult. But things aren't difficult with the Pines. In a way, being with the Pines is as comfortable as the hugs she gets from her mother in her dreams every night. Being with the Pines feels right. It feels safe.

It's good that Wendy has them. It's important that Wendy has them. And fortunately, she always will.

[superectojazzmage]

Among my mounting bad/unsure feelings about Arcane season two is a feeling of... I don't know, weirded outness over how Jinx is being handled. Just the way they seem to almost be trying to pretend like she wasn't depicted in season one as basically a sadistic, bloodthirsty, would-be school shooter who did shit like shooting animals for fun or blowing up buildings to try and impress her dad.

Like, the narrative of this season seems to be going out of it's way to handle her with kids gloves in a way that season one didn't, treating her as if she's just a "lol so quirky" kind of character or even a genuine revolutionary hero to be idolized as Zaun's leader compared to season one's "oh this lady is genuinely dangerously unstable and a threat to everyone around her". She's not treated as a villain - albeit a tragic one - she's treated like she's a flawed hero at worst.

Hell, I mean, you see it with the whole plot of Zaun following Jinx as a symbol of revolt. Because all throughout season one, Jinx's relationship with Zaun in even the most charitable light amounted to everyone except Silco being fucking TERRIFIED of her or outright hating her guts, and with good reason as she did nothing but make everyone's situations worse by being a mood-swinging killer who attacks anyone and anything around her at the slightest provocation and constantly goes into violent, hallucinatory fugue states at even the most mild of stresses. But than she blows up the council and suddenly everyone is literally equating her with a god worshiped in Zaun? Imagine if you saw people claiming the Unabomber was the Second Coming and you get an idea of how bizarre that is.

Everyone regarded Jinx as a walking bomb in season one. Even a lot of Silco's allies - from Sevika to Marcus - spent said first season saying Jinx was out-of-control and that killing her would be doing Silco a favor, and that was objectively true, especially considering Jinx ends up directly murdering Silco in yet another fit of blind rage and panic. Now we get season two and anyone who seriously opposes Jinx seems to be treated like either a jerk or a burgeoning extremist for not liking a terrorist who kills people because the voices in her head say to do it, and some people who despised Jinx in season like Sevika now act like they're just mildly annoyed by her childishness and weird behavior (something else that was played in a very creepy light in s1, but now seems treated like it's harmless).

Her crimes from season one and even this season are kinda brushed over; there's tepid acknowledgment that she killed Caitlyn's mom and two other councilors, but that's it and nobody really dwells on the fact that she basically did fantasy 9/11. And likewise, Caitlyn is treated as if she's becoming a violent zealot for shooting at Jinx while Isha is near, but nobody so much as comments on Jinx outright murdering numerous children through Grey-bombing Piltover or literally shooting a teenage Firelight in the back in season one just because she looked like Vi.

Speaking of Isha, I hate to say it, but she really does feel like she has no reason for existing beyond making Jinx look better. No themes of Jinx perpetuating the kind of abuse Silco inflicted on her by raising to be the monster she is, no acknowledgment of how dangerous somebody like Jinx would be as a mother, no questioning of the ethics of Jinx's actions, and Isha watching Jinx murder people is framed in a silly, comedic light compared to season one's blunt depiction of how Powder being exposed to violence from a young age warps her. Isha throws straight KILLS HERSELF via suicide bombing and it's framed as a heroic, beautiful act and not a horrific sight of a child being so radicalized by the terrorist that raised her that she thinks killing others and eve herself "for the cause" is good. The series dangles her and Jinx being friendly with each other in front of you like a parent jangling car keys at an infant. "Oooh look at Jinx and Isha dancing and dying their hair haha it's so cute don't think about bad things, Jinx is nice now!".

I just honestly am not a fan of this "Harley Quinnification" of Jinx after season one went out of it's way to tear down that kind of character. Such a big part of Jinx's portrayal there was ripping apart the idea of this manic pixie terrorist who is Totes Awesomes and only hurts bad guys as part of it's larger themes of the ugliness of violence and the dangers of valorizing it. And I really feel like we're losing that. Not even just with Jinx, but with Zaun as a whole, this season feels like it's going full "everything is Piltover's fault, Zaun didn't do nothing wrong, those Piltover babies should just shut up and let themselves be attacked for being big stupid oppressor doodoo heads!!!!" which feels very counterproductive to the series' messages and like frankly shit writing.

[archangeldyke-all]

Omg fucking stupid thing I thought of but like Sevika with a reader who is literally her number one apologist

Oh she got into deep shit? “I saw nothing actually” <— (quite literally was there)

Oh she murdered a man? “I mean.. did we ever take time to consider why she killed them? I mean, they could have looked at her wrong! I mean, I would if I were her too—“

Oh Sevika was being an asshole? “So? And I was backing her up 😇🫶🏼”

this is so me, she'd chop finn's head clean off in front of me and i'd be like 'babe ur so silly! omg u have blood on ur arm!! lemme clean it for u...'

men and minors dni

sevika knows you're loyal to her.

in the five years you've been together, sevika's never once worried about your eyes wandering or you sneaking around on her.

but it's more than that.

you ride or die for sevika.

she realizes this the first time she's home to watch you talk to an enforcer.

sevika and silco's deal with marcus means they get away with most their dealings in the undercity-- but from time to time, to avoid questions, marcus will have to send a rookie down to the undercity to 'investigate.'

usually, the kid will snoop around for half a day, before high-tailing it right back up to piltover.

sometimes-- they actually try to investigate some of the evidence.

and, once or twice a year, one of the rookies will even have big enough balls to try to question sevika herself.

she's on the couch reading when someone knocks on your door. she's on high alert as she watches you open the door, her hackles rising when she sees the uniform standing on your front stoop.

"sorry to bother you so late at night, miss, is this the residence of a 'sevika'?" the enforcer asks.

sevika huffs, rolling her eyes and biting back her annoyed groan. she's in no fucking mood to deal with this. she's about to haul herself off the couch and take over for you, when you speak again.

"who?" you ask.

sevika blinks-- unsure if she heard you correctly.

"s-sevika?" the man tries again.

"sevika? i've never heard of a 'sevika' living in this neighborhood..." you say. sevika realizes what you're up to, and a smile breaks across her face. "do you mean savannah? there's a savannah a few blocks south, she owns a barbershop off third..." you suggest.

the rookie studies you for a second, and you just blink up at him innocently.

sevika has to smack a hand over her mouth when the idiot buys your act, sighing and slumping before turning around to leave your front stoop. "thank you for your time ma'am. sorry again for bothering you so late."

"put your gas mask on, young man, you'll hurt your lungs down here!" you call after him, waving sweetly as you watch him wander down the street.

you grunt and roll your eyes, your sweet smile dropping the moment he turns the corner, before you turn around and walk back inside your home, slamming and locking the door behind you.

sevika tackles you to the ground, kissing you fiercely. you burst into giggles. "what's this for?" you ask.

sevika can't stop laughing against your lips. "you're so amazing." she giggles. you just huff and roll your eyes.

"thought i'd turn you in?" you ask. sevika shakes her head.

"no-- didn't think you'd lie to a cop for me though."

you blink up at her, suddenly serious, and sevika's heart swells. "sevika. i'd do anything for you."

sevika has to hide her flustered face against your shoulder at this.

over the years, she realizes how much you meant the words.

you come home one night and find her panicking, a dead body in your living room blood soaked into her skin and clothes. you just blink, take a deep breath, and snap into action.

sevika watches in a daze as you gently guide her to sit on the couch, kissing her and calming her down as you strip her of her bloody clothes and toss them ontop of the dead man in the middle of your home.

you don't even ask her questions. you just gently guide her to the bathroom, and treat her like she's just got a cold, or something.

"you're so pretty." you whisper as you wash her clean.

you dress her in her jammies and put her to bed.

sevika stays awake, listening to you call ran and silco over, and then listening to the three of you clean up the mess for the rest of the night.

when you crawl into bed beside her at the end of the night, smelling vaguely of fire and gasoline and bleach-- sevika turns onto her side and grabs your hand.

"you okay, my love?" you whisper.

"will you marry me?" sevika asks.

you burst into giggles and agree, kissing sevika sweetly before dragging her onto your chest and scratching her scalp as she falls asleep.

it's not even the serious shit that you back her up on either. it's the dumb, petty shit too.

you can be sitting on her lap during a game of cards; muffling your giggles against her shoulder when sevika cheats by hiding a few of her cards one second, and the next you're swearing on your grandmother's life that sevika's never cheated during a game when one of her opponent's accuses her of hiding cards.

you hear her voice rise a bit when she gets in an argument with a goon, and you're by her side at lightspeed, glaring at whoever dared to question her authority, cracking your knuckles to back up her threats. when the goon stumbles away, nearly crying in fear, sevika turns to you with a guilty look.

"what?" you ask.

"i realized halfway through that i was yelling at the wrong kid... they all wear the same grungy eyeliner-- i can't tell these fuckers apart." she admits.

you burst into giggles and pull her in for a hug, and sevika finds out years later that you ended up tracking down the kid you'd both threatened and buying him dinner to apologize.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @realgreeniebeanie @k3n-dyll

@sevsdollette @ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re

@raphaellearp @iamastar @sevikitty @claude999

[chefkids]

What do you think of the s3 episode titles and synopsis? (Spoilers from the bear subreddit) because I'm nervous seeing it especially with the episode 9 (which is alluding to carmy apologizing to claire?) And the last episode claire is his forever? Sorry, I'm just panicking.

I think the first episode will just be about Carmy getting out of the fridge and then jump right into the funeral.

This will be about them going back to the kitchen, Carmy setting up his non negotiable list and proposing a marriage partnership agreement to Syd.

This is just going to be their incredible dysfunctional toxic workplace. Everyone is going to be so sick of them.

Marcus gets his groove back. Maybe Luca comes over this ep? I think Marcus is going to prove to be the only stable and consistent member actually putting out good creative dishes meanwhile Syd and Carmy spiral.

This actually about me. I'm children. I'm chefkids. I think it's about money, Unc treating everyone like they're stupid kids burning through his pockets. Which they kind of are. I think it's also about the responsibility of having a million people to take care of with the staff. Mom and Dad (Syd and Carmy) are gonna have to step up for their kids. Also about the stars and the odds of getting them with how their reviews have been going.

I think this is going to be a flashback episode of what happened after Fishes, Mikey telling Carmy he needs to leave and cutting him off for The Beef, and Carmy going to New York and beginning his toxic path.

By this point Sydney is going to be so sick of Carmy and his rules and the system. She's going to meet the CDC of Ever and start to seriously consider a life outside of The Bear.

I think by this will be mostly about Nat and her baby, although I do think she would have given birth by this point. But I also think this could be when Fak tries to bring Claire back because he think she can fix him and stop his spiral. I think Richie is going to force Carmy to talk to Claire here.

This going to be when Carmy realizes how bad he has been fucking up and tries to fix things with Sydney. He knows she is considering leaving and that other people want her. And I think he'll also see his mom again and apologize for not being there when Mikey died and I think Donna will apologize to him for everything she's ever done.

Sydney is going to have to choose between The Bear and Ever. Carmy will be have to make a final plea for her. I think she will pick him, and I think he will tell her how he feels about her and that he was just trying to do everything for her because he loves her.

[drinkabletoxicdishsoap]

drop ur antony headcanons pls

Thank you for asking me anon!!! I love to share my headcanons about him he’s so silly!!

1. I feel like more than half of his closet is just graphic tees/t-shirts. That’s like the only kind of shirt he wears.

2. For his crush on Dejah, he acts like a stuttering and complete mess of front of her. Super awkward and everything. But she doesn’t mind! I think she finds it and him very sweet. I don’t know if you’ve ever watched my little pony friendship is magic, but they give me Shining Armor x Cadence vibes.

3. I’d like to think he played an instrument as a kid. He was probably a band kid.

4. Whenever he went to zoos as a kid or even now, he rushes to the reptile section. It’s most likely for him to look at iguanas since he’s in the iguana society. Though I feel like he loves every single kind of reptile.

5. He’s the Godzilla’s movies #1 fan. Bro RUNS to the theaters whenever a new movie drops. He always cheers on Godzilla for the Godzilla vs. literal any creature or just any Godzilla movie in general.

6. Amusement park enthusiast. He absolutely LOVES any and all kinds of amusement parks. He will ride absolutely anything!! Maybe not the VERY VERY high rollercoasters but he will ride anything and everything else. He’s still a kid at heart.

7. His favorite holiday is basically any where he can spend time with his family. Christmas, Thanksgiving, and Halloween are his top ones. He loves going trick or treating with Hazel and I feel like they always had matching Halloween costumes.

8. He played some sports as a kid. I have no idea which ones but I feel like he’d be a soccer kid (maybe I’m bias because I play soccer LMAO).

9. Secretly LOVES reality tv shows. He acts like he doesn’t, but whenever Angela has it on he sits next to her and watches it. They totally gossip about it together.

10. He will do ANYTHING and EVERYTHING for Hazel. He cares so much about her.

11. Whenever the Wells Family is on a trip, he’s the one to suggest excursions and everything like that.

12. Energy drinks are his LIFE. He doesn’t drink coffee but bro will absolutely DOWN any energy drink.

13. I feel like he helps build whatever ghost hunting or paranormal investigation invention Marcus wants. He probably even helped him build the the ghost one that we see in the show! He doesn’t really get his dad’s obsession with the paranormal but he will forever cheer his dad on!

14. Since he now knows about Cosmo, Peri, and Wanda, he will guard their secret with his life for Hazel. He helps when they have a few little slips. I feel like he would get along great with Cosmo and Wanda! He definitely appreciates what they’ve done for his little sister. He tries to get along with Peri but I feel like they don’t really get along at first. You know, younger brother vs older brother. Maybe they do get along but at first, absolutely not.

15. He’s a great cook! He helps cook meals for Hazel whenever his parents are out and about.

16. He has silly little karaoke nights with Hazel :3

That’s all the headcanons I have for him <33 if I do think of more I’ll either edit the post or make a new post about it! Thank you for the ask anon!! And thank you for reading! I hope you have a great day or night :3

[davenweenie]

Things I would have done if I had created the show ‘Lab Rats’

FTM trans Chase (obvi)

Autistic Leo and Chase

ADHD Adam and Bree

Brought more focus onto why Donald Davenport was a shitty dad, maybe has character development where he realised how bad he actually was.

Douglas would still be evil but his motives would have been slightly different, he’s hiding under the guise of trying to take power over the world when he actually just wants his kids back.

Trans Douglas, hello????

Trans Douglas who used a donor to have Adam, Bree and Chase (makes more sense than him using a random AFAB person tbh)

Explore how the Rats’ bionics actually work, where they actually have their bionics, how they were implanted, if there were any failed subjects etc

Bree would originally be a tomboy who wants to explore her girlhood but has never had the chance to due to being so sheltered and only raised around boys and raised by a man

She slowly started exploring girlhood, Tasha helps by showing her media that heavily features women, they have a shopping trip where Tasha helps her pick out new outfits

Bree slowly transitions into being a more ‘girly’ girl when she discovers how much she actually enjoys doing and wearing what is traditionally considered more feminine

Chase struggling when they all integrate into the real world, he struggles with his masculinity and how the world views him since things were so much easier when it was just him, his two siblings and their pseudo father

Chase’s insane sensory issues, I’d like to believe he walks around constantly wearing a pair of noise cancelling headphones that Leo let him have

They eventually make him some bionic versions which help block out most noises since his super hearing is too strong for normal noise cancelling headphones

He looks a lil silly but they help, so he continues to wear them on days where he’s really struggling

Adam struggling in school, he cannot function well during school, he’s always frustrated in class because he just can’t retain any of the information and he zones out too much to even focus properly

Chase tries to help by tutoring him but Adam can’t focus long enough for it to have an affect

Chase researches ways to help Adam retain information and figures out that playing catch with Adam helps, the action of tossing and catching a ball occupies his hands as well as keeps his brain in gear enough to focus on the information given to him

Leo having meltdowns during the whole Marcus situation. He hates being accused of lying or accused of doing stuff that he didn’t do. He also hates people not believing him so the whole situation overwhelms him and he ends up having a meltdown practically every day.

Exploring how Trent’s bullying has affected Leo and Chase, how they’re terrified to step foot into school some days in fear of what Trent will do that day

Tasha being completely mortified at the way the Rats were raised, demanding that Donald treat them like kids rather than a science experiment

She considers divorcing him at first but she knows she needs to be there for the kids. They eventually work out their relationship and Donald begins to change he treats the Rats, he’s probably only changing because of Tasha though

Big reveal on why Donald is the way he is towards the kids, they’re not his kids and they’re his brother’s who he doesn’t have a good relationship with, he takes it out on the kids because his brother isn’t there to take his anger out on

The Rats being mad at Donald, huge argument scene where they finally stand up for themselves and tell him that having a poor relationship with his brother was no excuse to treat them the way he did, they were just kids who didn’t have any involvement in their sibling rivalry

Donald becomes a cool uncle rather than extremely strict and controlling father. Douglas becomes more like a cool dad than a cool uncle, he’s too irresponsible to have full control of the decision making so him, Donald and Tasha kinda just Co-parent.

Leo gets full bionics, not just in his leg and arm. He has to train as a student at the academy first but later becomes a teacher like Adam, Bree and Chase.

Bree and Chase still go on to be in the EF but it’s only brief while they handle the whole shapeshifter thing before they go back to the academy. Oliver, Skylar and Kaz go with them. They’re still a team that do missions together but they just live at the academy now.

This was very self indulgent, I hope you like it. Thanks for reading and I’ll probably make more of these. This was fun!

[mollysunder]

On Silco and Molatovs

I still think about how the creators of Arcane wanted the opening scene to be a young Silco throwing a molotov cocktail during the Day of Ash on the bridge. It's supposed to be implied that Silco's actions were the trigger for why that day escalated to such violence and death. But honestly, all it does is vindicate the success of Silco's leadership in Zaun.

Most of the problems Silco faces in Act 2 & 3 are practically the same challenges Vander faced, but worse. His kid blew up a building and intentionally murdered people while doing it. The operation he had his kid go on got interrupted by a rival gang of young people with the objective literally up in flames. Piltover's putting (economic) pressure on Zaun to find the culprit on the Progress Day attack. Silco also has to put up with upstarts attempting to undermine his leadership position as tensions starts to mount. In spite of all the pressures Silco faced, he was able to manuever around them all a lot better than Vander did.

Let's take Jinx's hexgem heist for the first example. One building robbed and vandalized, another building set on fire and bombed, and six enforcers killed. Yet the only enforcer that was in Zaun for that escapade was Marcus, because Marcus couldn't treat Silco like Grayson treated Vander.

When the kids accidentally blew up the Kiramman building during their heist, no one died, but enforcers were flooded into Zaun, because Grayson saw it in her capacity to do that. Even when Grayson goes to calmly speak with Vander, she's still flanked by aggressive underlings who consistently escalate tensions. Grayson, as the Sheriff Vander trusts, either can't control the enforcers in her charge or is incredibly lax with how they operate, and that's because Grayson had no incentive to be genuinely effective.

Grayson and Vander operated on knowledge where both assumed Piltover's forces had the upperhand on Zaun and could demolish them. No matter how cordial Vander and Grayson were to eachother, Grayson held the cards in that dynamic. There was nothing Vander could do if Grayson just changed her mind about keeping enforcers out of Zaun. Grayson just believed it was for the good of both cities to avoid further bloodshed (that Zaun risked) by delegating responsibility of Zaun to Vander. They manage to work together essentially through Grayson's grace, rather than Vander's own legitimacy as a leader.

Marcus however, must actually attempt restraint because both he and Silco have actual stakes in their relationship. So Marcus enters Zaun ALONE to figure out a solution with it's defacto leader, Marcus is just upset about it the whole time. Frankly that's why I think Jinx intentionally caused as much loud and obvious damage because she KNEW she would get away with it, she still kind of has (she isn't in Stillwater). Jinx has been with Silco for at least seven years, she knows he's got Marcus in bind that's only getting tighter, and knows Silco won't hesitate to throw someone (the Firelights) under the bus for it, unlike Vander.

And even when passage through the bridge is shut down and Zaunites are out in anger protesting, no one dies. Some Zaunite there literally threw a molotov cocktail at the enforcer line and yet violence on the scale of the Day of Ash didn't transpire, because Silco put them, specifically Marcus, in a position where the had to be restraint. In every aspect of Vander's leadership that's about real material gain, Silco has managed to succeed where he failed. Practically every act of aggression at Piltover under Silco's regime never saw the same level of retribution that Vander's did. Sevika chose Silco over Vander because she believed he truly was a more effective leader, and she was right! In the end, she didn't betray Silco because he easily outpaced all the other contenders.

Tldr: Whenever the writers bring up Silco's faults, sometimes it just makes him look better than his counterparts in terms of skill and effectiveness. Silco managed to get Zaun treated like a separate nation faster than Vander could have dreamed.

[moreespressoformydepresso]

I was thinking about my AU’s where the tributes get their medical care after all the fixing and for a while now I’ve had it in my head that most of them don’t know what good medical care actually looks like so I decided to type it out!

So it’s pretty clear the Capitol oppresses the districts and treats them like shit at every opportunity, even if it’s against their own benefits. Treating them better and helping them advance would probably lead to more productivity, better products and far lower chance of a second rebellion but it’s apparently more fun to be an evil scumbag so into the toilet we go. This probably means they don’t let the Districts have any medical care, even if keeping your workers happy is a better decision. Meanwhile, the Capitol has all this fancy medical equipment like defibrillators and oxygen masks and anesthesia and stuff. Now imagine a bunch of terrified, injured kids who do not trust anyone but each other suddenly having all these unfamiliar machines shoved in their face while people in white lab coats prepare to inject them with a needle containing heavens know what kind of weird fluid.

That’s… not gonna go over well

Predictably, the kids all freak out and while their reactions are dimmed due to the several peacekeepers with guns surrounding them, quite a few like Reaper and Coral are still putting up a fight, several others are currently having a panic attack because “Oh no they’re gonna kill us anyway” and everyone is far too tense to be given the anesthetics necessary.

So what’s the solution? Having the mentors sit with their tributes and explain what’s going on because these kids will not believe anybody else. It’s the best option right now, and it would be especially interesting if this is emergency care and thus happening in a public space somewhere so people can see that. They can see the effects of their behavior in real time as literal 12-year-olds know not to take a Capitol citizen’s word for anything.

What makes doing this so interesting to me is the possibility to explore the different levels of effectiveness in this strategy and everyone’s way of handling it. Tributes like Lucy Gray, Jessup, Lamina, and Dill would calm down and listen to what their mentors are saying, possibly asking curious questions about how all of this works in more depth. Teslee and Circ would already know the technical stuff and ask about the more hands-on kinds of treatment, because they know this is gonna happen whether they like it or not so they try to distract themselves from it with curiosity.

Meanwhile, tributes like Bobbin, Reaper, Treech and Brandy are not calmed down in the slightest. Reaper stares Clemensia down with clear distrust and only ends up unhappily letting this happen because of Dill, Bobbin is slowly starting to get angrier and angrier with every snippy comment he throws Juno’s way about all the reasons he dislikes her. Brandy looks one wrong move away from a murder (though in fairness Arachne is only just starting to crack the code on how the tributes are just kids so she wasn’t the best person to be doing this anyway) and Treech is relaxing his muscles but he isn’t calming down at all. It becomes pretty clear with the several nervous glances he’s just scared Vipsania will punish him somehow for not complying, which she could given the peacekeepers around. She has to reassure him she won’t and be far more vulnerable and honest about her inner conflict since meeting him in order to make him (very reluctantly) give her the benefit of the doubt.

Marcus may clearly dislike Sejanus, but he does trust him enough to let the medical stuff happen and Sejanus goes around to help the mentors who are struggling with calming their tributes down. You can pry these two slowly reconciling from my cold dead hands and my ghost will just come to steal it back.

I think it would show the Capitol these kids are all different people, and moreover it would show them that they’re just reacting to the way they’re being treated. They’re fully capable of trusting Capitol citizens, but as Bobbin so helpfully makes them understand: some of them don’t have any reason to. Why trust someone with your life when you couldn’t even trust them to bring you food? When it’s so obvious they just needed you for their own gain or you’ve lost so much to the Capitol already that it just isn’t worth the risk?

Idk I thought it might be fun to explore

[ahlyasimps]

So I read somewhere that it is possible for the blind gene to be hereditary so imagine y/n and Ominis child being blind but using a familiar to see but not the typical service animal way but they can see the through the animal’s eyes kind of like a warg from game of thrones if you ever seen it 😆

Jobberknoll Frights [O.G.]

Pairing: Dad!Ominis Gaunt x Reader

Summary: Your blind son discovers his ability to see through the eyes of magical creatures and gives you quite a fright.

A/N: I've never watched GoT but I'm going to be treating this like Eivor's ability to see through her raven's eyes in Assassin's Creed Valhalla and hope it's alright 😅 Aka, Eivor herself can't move while in this state but she can control the raven and see through its eyes.

Going in line with my personal Dad!Ominis headcanon, him and reader have two kids: Seraphina and Marcus. + I don't know how well 10 year old kids can speak so just read it all in a baby voice 🫡

The ability first manifested itself when your child turned 10 years old. Ominis was out taking Seraphina to the park when you suddenly heard a loud thud. Panicked, you raced upstairs only to find Marcus sprawled on the floor unmoving except for the slow rise and fall of his chest. You raced to his side with tears in your eyes trying to figure out what was wrong when you heard incessant tapping on the bedroom window. You were too focused on your unresponsive child but the tapping just become louder and more frequent. A quick glance over to the window revealed a green Jobberknoll with familiar pale eyes. Identical to the ones of your beloved husband and the same ones passed on to the very child you were trying to awaken. Noticing that it had grabbed your attention, the Jopperknoll started trying to wave one of its wings which made it lose balance and almost fall. But the strangely human gesture finally helped clue you in to the situation at hand. "Is that you, Marcus?" The Jobberknoll responded with a squawk and a nod, which only added to your confusion. You've never heard of this ability before but it certainly did seem like your child. Suddenly, the Jobberknoll dipped below the window and you felt movement coming from Marcus. He suddenly shot up from the floor with the largest smile you've ever seen on his little face. "I... I could see!" He said excitedly, "Everything was so bright and there were so many colours!" Marcus felt around him before latching onto you, who was still in shock, "And you're kneeling right here! I could see from the window!" His voice was getting higher the more excited he got. "I could see!" He exclaimed once more in wonder while holding onto you. Naturally, once Ominis and Seraphina came home they were in for quite a surprise when you told them the news. Ominis was ecstatic, thrilled his son could experience something he could not. Seraphina, while happy for her brother, was already leading him to the side and brainstorming all the new pranks they could now pull off with his ability to connect with Jobberknolls. Could he connect with other creatures? Could the he control a Puffskein and start sticking his tongue in everyone's face? The possibilities were endless for the two giddy children.

You and Ominis listened to the excited children with fond smiles on your faces. While you were too far away to catch the specifics of what they were saying, based on Ominis' cheeky laughter you knew it wasn't anything good. You sighed in your head and mentally prepared yourself for the inevitable heart attack you'll get from seeing magical beasts come running up to you with Marcus' eyes.

Later that night while the kids were asleep and you and Ominis were cozily wrapped up in each other's arms, he pouted into your neck and asked "If I hold a Jobberknoll long enough, do you think I could become it the way Marcus did?"

"I don't think that's how it works dear," you mumbled out, already half asleep.

While he also knew it probably wouldn't be possible, this seemed like an innate gift after all, he still deflated at your answer. Feeling this, you turned around so you could face him and cupped his face to bring it closer to yours. "But... I hear Cressida is making progress on a charm for glasses that could let you see. Still under development of course but she owled me earlier saying she had a major breakthrough! While it might not be right away, someday you'll be able to see our children."

Ominis smiled at that, a small smile full of hope.

[itscherrylipsforme]

Misfits lovebirds: Sejanus Plinth x Capitol!fem!reader

Summary: The other students from the Academy claimed that you and Sejanus were birds of a feather. And although their intentions while saying that were more teasing than complimenting they were not wrong. The introverted capitol girl and the sweet District two boy, both of them just as opinionated. Two misfits lovebirds. Everyone else sees your couple as fated but you two. But when Sejanus enters the arena, you can help but notice that maybe he is much more than a friend

Warnings: None, but y/n and Sejanus are proud and lovely social weirdos

Requested: yes

Words: 1500

Author's rambles: The anon who left this request is a true genius who likes ranting about Sejanus as much as I do. Sej is just a lover boy who hasn't done anything wrong, I will protect him with my life

Masterlist Characters I write for

Likes and reblogs are appreciated ღ

I do not authorize any of my works to be copied, translated or plagiarized ✗

Ma was baking something in the oven, if it wasn’t for the lump in your throat, you would be eager to try those sweet treats as soon as they were ready. That was what would do during most of your visits to the Plinth’s house. On a normal day, you and Sejanus would have spent the afternoon in his bedroom doing your papers for the Academy, talking and laughing meanwhile. Then his mother would knock at the door with a plate full of cookies or doughnuts and you two would eat them as you shared plans for the future, ideas, or memories until you had to go back home. But not today.

First point, it wasn’t a quiet afternoon, but a closed late night and Sejanus wasn’t even there. Maybe that was one of the reasons why your stomach had closed up even though Ma had been cooking for almost an hour, and she continued trying to offer you all the pastries that were already on the table. Her efforts were useless, you couldn’t eat and keep walking the kitchen back and forth, and she kept baking goods. Each of you had your ways to deal with stress, I guess.

How had you two got to that point? Everything seemed like a blur since your mother was told to wake up by Gaul. An Academy’s car drove you to the Plinth’s and the only explanation you were given was that Sejanus had put himself in danger by entering the Arena. You had to bite your language not to tell your cruel teacher that maybe no one would ever be in danger if the Arena wasn’t opened, and the games weren’t being taken place. An argument with that depraved creature you were forced to talk Mrs. was the last thing you needed right now. When Gaul went to God-knows-where and you were left alone with Mrs. Plinth (Strabo was on his office making important calls as always) you discovered more about the situation.

Sejanus, your Sej, had entered the Arena by bribing the peacekeepers in order to make a funeral tribute typical from District two to Marcus and protest against the games. Coriolanus Snow was now in charge of convincing him to go back home, an order he had received directly from Gaul herself. Damn, you hated your egocentric and selfish classmate. Never really knew why Sejanus seemed to get along with him, and never brought yourself to ask, but now the fate of your best friend was on his hands. Because Sejanus Plinth was just a friend to you, wasn’t he?

Nothing could be better stored in your memory that the day you met him. Some soft curls covering his forehead, his hair used to be longer back then. Big, deep and brown eyes that looked at everything which a mixture of fear and timidness. They were a little red as he had been crying some time ago. When you saw him sitting on one of the benches in the playground far away from the rest of the kids you immediately discovered two things about Sejanus Plinth. First one, he didn’t belong there. Second one, he didn’t want to belong, either.

He hadn’t exchanged a word with you. Being honest, he didn’t have to, you just knew it from the beginning. If you had to said that you were certain about one thing in this world is that you and Sej were misfits, meant to be around each other. You were sure about it since that day. So going against your usual shyness you asked him whether you could sit by his side, he nodded, the two of you started talking and the rest was a story as they said.

As the years passed, your bond with the “district’s boy” as most people called him only became stronger. If Festus was making fun of you for being too quiet, stuttering or not talking at all, Sejanus came to your aid. Someone keep saying that money could buy him a place in the capitol, but he would never be like them, be careful they would have to face with your sarcasm and anger when you were mad. Clemensia was gossiping about how your awkward-self had messed up social cues again during one of the Academia’s balls, Sejanus got you covered. And everything was like that.

By the time you turned sixteen your beloved classmates came up with other ways to annoy you. Sejanus loves y/n paintings in the bathrooms’ doors, fake love notes in both of your lockers, singing ridiculous cheesy songs when the two of you walked by their side… You would have expected them to be more mature, but that word didn’t seem to be in their vocabulary. Sejanus and you weren’t even mad at the jokes anymore, you laughed about them and keep going with yours day.

Your parents, on the other side, didn’t see them that way. Their daughter being friends with someone from the districts was not got for their social status, they nearly tried to drift you apart and forbid you from talking to him ever again! Luckily for you, a dinner between the Plinth’s and y/l/n’s was all that Strabo Plinth (and his money) needed to convince them that his son was a good influence for you and vice versa. Since that evening, Ma had been hoping for the day she would call you daughter, but you and Sejanus were completely unaware of it.

You stopped in your tracks, the sudden realization of something you hadn’t expected. It had been nearly an hour since you arrived and there you were. Only being able to remember all the things you had gone through with him while waiting for an answer of what had happened to him. If something went wrong, if Snow was too late or the Tributes saw him first… Was that what Sejanus would become to you? Just some messed beautiful turned bitter-sweet memories? No, you couldn’t accept that. He was going to be okay. You needed him to be okay.

A knock on the door, that was all you had to heart to head as fast as you could towards the entrance door. Behind tall, serious and cold Coriolanus it was your Sejanus. Eyes as he had been crying a few minutes ago, some bruises, but same broken and apologetic smile. You rushed into his embrace. Soft, warm, comforting and yet somehow firm, just like him. And with his arms wrapped around you, you allowed yourself to cry in relief. It wasn’t long until you had to move to the side in order to let Ma finally greet his beloved son with the same emotion as you did. Snow just looked around, not really knowing what to say or do.  And even though he was still close to his mother, Sejanus looked at you. A gaze that seemed to weight thousands of emotions he couldn’t put into words and mean “We need to talk”.

Half an hour later you two were on his dorm, Ma was cleaning the kitchen and Coriolanus and Strabo were talking in his office. You had decided to spend the night in, it was too late to go back to your house, and you wouldn’t be able to bring yourself to sleep anyway. Sitting cross-legged on one of his pillows you managed to say, more correctly whisper, the first words of your conversation.

“Please, don’t not something like that ever again”

“I know y/n, I know. But Marcus…” His lips failed to speak, sadness and bottle up sadness made her speech come up as mumbling. The tiredness and the longing for some understanding made him sat by your side in the bed. “He didn’t… He didn’t deserve it. I just wanted to make… to make things right. The games are…” His head leaning in your shoulder, muffling some small and painful cries.

“Sej, it’s okay, I know… I know. I hate them as much as you do” Your hand started playing with his hair, a little trick you had learned a few years ago to help him calm down and never failed “But you could have told me about it. I wouldn’t let you go to the arena on your own if I had known. After all, you are my…” Friend, that was the word that somehow you couldn’t pronounce for the first time in your life, and you knew exactly why “After all I care a lot about you, don’t I?”

“y/n” He whispered in your ear “I know you do, but for once let me take care of you for once in our lives, okay?” One of his hands rested on your neck playing with the edges of your hair “You know, I wasn’t scared of dying in the Arena, the only fear I had back then was losing the opportunity of saying you again” The hand slowly travelled to your cheek “Don’t worry, I am not risking that again” His eyes took a kick and nearly involuntary haze at your lips, and you could notice his pulse becoming faster little by little “Can I…?” And before he finished the sentence, your lips softly landed on his for the first time of many

But for now it was only the two of you holding each other, feeling what you had to keep for yourself too long. Your classmates were right, you were just two misfits lovebirds.

[lettingthoughtsflow]

lab rats 🤝 chappell roan

inspired by @imasimpcentral

this is going off 97% vibes at 3% character analysis (i love chappell but there's def a 60/40 chance that some of these takes are not good interpretations)

femininomenon: tasha and bree fs

"stuck in the suburbs, you're folding his laundry" omg tasha my girl you deserved so much better than the man child billionare

if the boys kept up with playing instruments, bree def would've got them to learn this song

red wine supernova: literally everyone this song is so addicting

after midnight: also addicting and i want to say everyone but donald bc he doesn’t deserve it

I imagine chase playing this to hype himself up when he has plans to go out

coffee: omg adam, bree, and chase without question

"nowhere else is safe, every place leads back to your place" I know it's alluding to the couple ending up together but in the context of lab rats, abc can never get away from davenport and the bionic life. they never even get the chance to consider something

"you'll say that your sorry, I know it's a lie"

"if i didn't love you, it would be fine" omg this post by @texanmarcusdavenport

casual: Bree, Leo, Chase, and Douglas

basically anyone who struggled with relationships in the show tbh

someone would catch douglas singing the song and join him like that scene from friends

super graphic ultra modern girl: bree has this on repeat

adam brings just enough girly pop energy

leo too

one day tasha walks in on the kids dancing to it and joins in

chase walks in and slowly joins in like that scene from abott elementary

tumblr won't let me post another video so i made an extra post for the video

HOT TO GO!: obviously this goes to our two cheerleaders, adam and bree

davenport would be the person who tries to changed the dance routine

tasha would try to add to it or build a routine for the rest of the song bc she likes to be invovled

omg tasha would make them cheer outfits just so they could wear them for these songs

My Kink Is Karma: both davenport brothers tbh (mainly Douglas)

i didn't want to give donald one but if we ever saw him actually process the fact that his brother faked his death just to come back to attack his family and then get a parner and be more evil, this would be his song

douglas listens to this after leaving his partnership with krane

omg wait he would think about giselle too

Picture You: all of the siblings

"do you picture me like I picture you" -> am i the child you wanted? are you the dad I wanted?

are you the dad I deserve?

this is def me just interpreting this one line

Kaleidoscope: tasha, bree, chase, leo, and adam

tasha deserved to be treated better and fully acknowledged

bree, chase, and leo all had those messy coming-of-age relationships

adam doesn't relate to this song in the sense of romantic love bc he didn't have relationships (and i fully support the aroarce!Adam head cannon)

this still applies to the familial love and relationship with davenport

Pink Pony Club: @imasimpcentral put it best here but this is all the siblings

they're literally trapped in mission creek/bionic island

they can never leave the bionic life

they were all trying to prove themselves

leo the most during the bionic island season honestly

Naked In Manhattan: this song is so first relationship so all of the kids

bree basically modeled her life after high school movies after she was allowed out of the lab so this song is like nostalgia for her

adam vibes with the song but again he's aroace in my mind

i feel like chase would blush like crazy when he actually listens to the lyrics

i don't have a clear mindset with leo but i like to think that he vibes with chappell

California: all siblings – adam, bree, chase, and leo OH MY GOD MARCUS

specifically in the bionic rebellion for abc

they were thrown into the world of mentoring and then their top students rebelled

i think by that season they stopped caring about davenport but i feel like a small part of them has a lingering feeling of failure

when it comes to leo i just think about every time he tried to do something alone

"i'd make you proud. to think I almost had it going, but I let you down."

marcus literally did everything douglas asked him to and then came back to essentially complete his mission

and when he came back, he was working to make giselle proud just a bit

Guilty Pleasure: bree and chase

bree ached for normal life the most of all the siblings

she also fell for the bad guy

chase wanted friends so badly he could resonate with this song

[creedslove]

I know your headcanons are closed but I can’t stop thinking about Marcus Pike bing obsessed with his wife kids while she is nursing and he every evening very hungrily latch to her tits and drink her milk and cum without touching just from the drinking his wife’s milk.

Thank you for listening to my TEDtalk

Marcus Pike x f!reader

A/N: I love this anon, it's so 🔥

• so, it's obvious our sweet handsome Marcus Pike has a breeding kink

• one of the happiest moments of his life was when you two were dating and you both decided to stop using condoms because you two trusted each other and were clean

• so he could fill you up with his cum every night and that man went feral for it

• then you two got married and Marcus thought he was the happiest man in the world

• what he didn't know, was that he could be even happier and that happened when you announced you were pregnant

• and he was the best husband and baby daddy in the world: he did anything and everything for you, he treated you with so much love, spoiled you, woke up in the middle of the night to get you whatever food you were craving

• he would also go to all your doctor's appointments unless he really couldn't leave work and he would feel so guilty about it, but he would find a way to make it up to you for that, taking you out to eat, or buying you something nice

• and the body changes you went through, he really appreciated them, always praising and reminding you how gorgeous you were for carrying his child

• he loved your breasts, they were so full and big and so sensitive he loved playing with your nipples

• and he would be so fascinated by your milk; at first he would be too shy about it, he would be alone in his office and instead of focusing on his case report, he would close his eyes and fantasize about wrapping his lips around your nipples and suckle your warm milk

• he wondered what it would taste like, if you'd like the feeling, if he would like the feeling, if he would be embarrassed or if you would think he was weird so he didn't tell you anything about it

• but his cock was rock hard just to imagine himself drinking from you

• so when you two were having sex, he played with your breasts like he often did, you were riding Marcus and some milk began dripping down your nipple

• you were embarrassed at first, but he told you not to worry about it and wiped it with his tongue

• and it was as if something had changed inside of him; he just loved that situation, that connection was so strong and intense he couldn't help but want it again and again

• while still inside of you, he came so hard at the same time his lips were around your nipples

• you also noticed how much he enjoyed it, it had been so intense to him, you couldn't simply pretend you hadn't seen it

• so later, when you two were in bed, you asked him about it, showing your husband Marcus you were alright with it and above all you respected and loved him just the same

• and to make things better, you offered him to try it again whenever he wanted to

• so the next day at work, Marcus was also having a hard time concentrating because he spent the whole day thinking about it

• so just when he got home, he was so impatient he didn't even change clothes

• he sat you on the couch and took you to his lap, kissing you deeply and then going down your neck, your shoulders and your cleavage

• and then he revealed your beautiful gorgeous breasts and massaged them gently his tongue toying with your nipples as your milk came out right into his mouth

• Marcus closed his eyes and let out some muffled moans while you played with his hair

• he was so turned on he ended up coming untouched, panting and looking at you as he had drunk a lot from your milk

• once more he felt a little embarrassed but you assured him it was alright and above all he'd helped you because now your tits weren't so heavy anymore

• you pecked his lips and told him he could have your milk any time he wanted

• and that was why Marcus knew he was the luckiest husband in the world: he had you as his wife 💘

____

[iliketodrawig]

All of my rtc headcanons but they get worse and worse

Noel and Ocean secretly adore each other but as if they were brothers. They have a dynamic like "I can laugh at you but anyone who messes with you is dead."

Noel's mother used to watch old movies and that's where the boy's passion for this whole thing was born.

Constance's brother often tried to follow his sister no matter where she went (high school, choir practice, cooking class).

During choir practice, Noel would paint Penny's nails. He started doing it one day when she fell asleep in class and he decided to do it without waking her up. He succeeded and they both liked the result, so they've been doing it ever since.

Ricky wrote comics about the adventures of the Space Age Bachelor Man (he wrote and illustrated it) and his dream was to publish it one day. Penny was the only one he showed them to.

Mischa, Penny and Ricky are the BEST of friends. They usually meet in Ricky's house to watch superhero movies and read comics.

Ocean and Constance have sleepovers where they watch Barbie movies.

Ricky had a huge crush on Penny.

When Ocean was a little girl, she used to lived in the same hippie commune as Penny, so they were very good friends. But when her family left Elysum (shortly before kindergarten) they didn't see each other again until Penny joined the choir, but Ocean felt ashamed of her so she pretended she didn't know her. This hurt Penny a lot because she knew that Ocean remembered her, but she didn't say anything.

When the accident happened, Constance's brother was still a little kid so with the passage of time he forgot his sister's voice and he blames himself for this.

Ocean always felt identified with Matilda due to the lack of affection from her parents.

Constance always offered to let Ocean spend as much time as she needed at her house when she didn't want to deal with her parents, but Ocean stopped doing it because she was jelaous of the Blackwoods since they were the family she always dreamed of.

After the accident, Mischa's adoptive parents felt very guilty for not treating him as he deserved. When they recovered the boy's phone, they discovered Talia's messages and told her what had happened.

She did not believe them but she was left with the doubt and looked for it on the internet. That was how she found out.

Father Marcus told the kids to get on one last ride because they had to go home. They chose the Cyclone. He saw the accident and when he approached to bless the deceased, he fainted when he realized that they were his children. He woke up 7 hours after the accident and the coroner confirmed that it was indeed them.

As Penny lost her memories in the warehouse due to her body never being identified, the other kids also lost all their memories of her. That's why no one remembers her.

Penny wrote in her notebook everything that happened in the warehouse so she doesn't forget it. Months later, one of the girls who bullies her discover the notebook and she burns it. Penny cries but she doesn't cry because her notebook is destroyed, but because she no longer remembers the choir anymore.

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 17 (Godmother Buttercup)

As Buttercups began to catch on and more vets began to order the treats for their own clinics, Nancy called a family meeting after a swim in the penthouse pool.

"That girl is a real piece of work!" she huffed. "Half of Petcare's clinics switched suppliers after she conspired with her father. We can't sue them all - we'll lose!"

"You almost have to admire the ingenuity," offered Geoffrey, but Nancy shut him up with a glower.

"I don't care what foods people buy their pets; if there's money being made in one of our properties, I want a cut!" She turned to her son. "Have you talked to her about this?"

"No." Malcolm grumbled.

"She's not Landgraab material, Malcolm. She even spays and neuters pets for free. Free! Do you know how much she could be charging?"

Malcolm had felt pulled in separate directions for a while now. "She's trying to control the pet population! It's actually a pretty decent thing to do."

"What good is decency? More animals mean more patients, and that means more money. It's simple math, Malcolm."

"If it was as simple as just breaking things off and moving on, I'd have done it already," Malcolm huffed, and Geoffrey intervened before his wife had a chance to speak.

"Okay you two. Let's cool off before we say something we might regret. Nancy, your son's an adult and he can figure out what he wants for himself."

"He has to think of the family name, Geoffrey."

"He knows that."

Malcolm's head swam as he listened to his parents discuss him as though he wasn't still in the room. He really liked Heather, but her business sense was too honest for Landgraab Corp., and being tied to the conglomerate made her unhappy.

"I'll talk to her after her sister's wedding," he promised his mother, but he was already dreading how the conversation might go.

Back in Brindleton Bay, Heather was finding her vet tech, Marcus Flex, problematic. Charismatic, the clients loved him, but he was frustratingly bad at his job. Heather had mastered her veterinary skills and her vet tech couldn’t keep up.

"What can I do to encourage you, Marcus? A raise and promotion hasn't done much."

"I work hard, Doc Nesbitt."

"You also try to put the moves on half the owners who walk in here. And you're always late."

"I like beautiful people as much as I like my sleep."

"Would you take some night classes to improve your skills? I'll pay for them."

Marcus shrugged his shoulders. "I'd rather go out with friends, but if you think it would be good, I guess I could do both. I might be later to work if I have to stay out later, though."

"You don't have to stay out later, Marcus."

"Work-life balance is important, boss. I don't mean to be rude, but you work too hard. It's impossible to work as hard as you do."

She sighed. Marcus was right about that - she needed a vacation. As she left for Oasis Springs to meet baby Greyson, she worried she’d have to fire him, but she didn’t want to give up on him just yet.

The desert was sweltering when Heather arrived, but she set aside her discomfort to meet and celebrate her godson. Greyson, on the other hand, wasn't happy in the heat. He also disliked strangers, large crowds, and in general stressed out Spencer by crying all afternoon, even during the christening.

She put on a brave face while Everett entertained their guests, delighting in showing off his lookalike son. When Everett had to check on the appetizers in the kitchen, Heather tried to soothe the fussy infant with stories about his parents.

"Your parents used to race each other on the monkey bars when we were kids, and your mother was the undisputed champion of the Henford Olympiad! None of us could out-swing her!"

Greyson cooed as she spoke, but when she finished he whimpered before his face scrunched into a sob. "Ma-maaaa!" he wailed, and Spencer came running.

Despite the chaotic visit, Heather appreciated a couple days in the sunshine reconnecting with the Pancakes.

The next stop on Heather's small vacation tour would be San Myshuno for her sister's wedding. ->

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