#something's missing in my life... i have a family

[jabbasyogainstructor]

Here’s my wild take on Edna Turnblad (using John Travolta because he’s fresher in my mind, but any version works)

So if you look around during all the scenes of the Turnblad home, you’ll see that they did stage various photos of the Turnblad family at various points in time. There’s actually a really prominent picture of Wilbur and Edna’s wedding. Edna is thinner, but still not conventionally attractive, and she’s noticeably taller than her husband, both in the photo and just generally in most shots, in a time period where women would have absolutely commented on that frequently. Travolta is about 6’2” without heels while Walken topped out at around 6’ and probably has shrunk slightly due to his age. To top it all off, you can tell in many of these photos, she’s more than just tall, but big boned, broad shoulders… to even attempt fit into the styles of the age, she probably would have had to starve herself. My mother was tall and big boned as well, and huge feet for a woman, which is something that I think everyone she ever met pointed out when she was growing up in the 60s. (Mom is still very insecure about her appearance. ) Commenting negatively on appearance was the national pastime of women like Velma “former miss Baltimore crabs” Von Tussle in the 60s. Just bullying each other like we had a caste system. Watch another 1960s era film, there are plenty of examples. The Help is particularly noticeable: just sitting around talking shit about each other.

So poor Edna, who we’ve established is really insecure to begin with, has a baby! And she loves Tracy and Wilbur loves Tracy and Tracy clearly adores both her parents. Their relationship appears to be pretty healthy as we see in present day 60s Baltimore. But after giving birth, I bet Edna struggled to get that weight off. The lyrics for “without love” reference that a life without love are like “my mother on a diet.” Edna probably tried dozens of diets in the last 16 years. When she takes Tracy clothes shopping, she says she hasn’t left the house and the neighbors have not seen her in over a decade. On the surface, it sounds like she’s exaggerating, but to a degree, I don’t think she is. She has clearly avoided going out in public as much as possible. She only starts to regain some confidence when Mr Pinkley offers to dress Edna as well as Tracy. For some of you that have never had trouble finding clothes that fit, plus size stores for women are actually a relatively new idea. They definitely would not have been widespread in the 1960s. I would bet dollars to donuts that she had to make her own clothing. She’s a laundress, back then, tailoring as well as cleaning would have been an incredibly useful skill, it’s not a huge leap to think if she couldn’t buy herself clothes, she made them. Again with the insecurity, so what she made was full coverage and frumpy. Look at what she’s wearing when we first meet her: a plain, white housecoat that covers her from neck to calf.

So Edna has been hanging around her house, gaining weight, refusing to go outside, and her husband and young daughter have absolutely no idea how to help her. Mental illness treatment at the time consisted of mostly treatment for the truly impaired, a therapist just to talk to weekly, for postpartum depression, anxiety, weight issues… that was not widespread. Even if she had gone looking for treatment of any kind, she likely could not have been helped. So more than likely, grocery shopping or any other expenditures were done by Tracy or Wilbur, even going to Pinkley’s shop was almost shunted onto Wilbur as a task because she didn’t want to be seen.

I’m sure you all knew that already. But I think people sleep on how badly Edna was really treated. She had a child and husband who adored her no matter what, she was a successful business owner and she was still terrified to leave her own home. She overcame all of these issues to ensure that not only Tracy had a better shot at life and a great deal more confidence than she herself could ever seem to gather, but she went out and marched for other people’s kids. She kicked her own fears to the curb with a new wardrobe and a literal breaking bread with someone else who was heavyset and was absolutely thriving.

She is the secondary protagonist to beat all secondary protagonists.

I had to get it all out there. I adore Edna Turnblad.

[littlelamy]

Hii! I love your writing. Do you think you could write one where Rafe is a single father of a 4-year-old son and he meets a reader, and then they start a relationship and she meets his son and well, they start being a family? I'd love something like that, thank youuuuu

lamy's note: sorry that this is so late! i hope you like it <3

rafe cameron’s life revolved around his four-year-old son, oliver. The little boy was his entire world, a bright spot in the sometimes chaotic life of a single father. mornings were a blur of packing lunches and tying shoelaces, evenings a mix of storytime and sleepy cuddles. it was a rhythm rafe had gotten used to, even if it left little time for himself.

one rainy afternoon, rafe and oliver ducked into a cozy little café to escape the downpour. oliver clutched his favorite dinosaur toy, his small hand wrapped tightly around rafe's fingers. the warm atmosphere welcomed them, the smell of fresh coffee and pastries wrapping around them like a comforting hug. they found a table near the window, where oliver could watch the raindrops race down the glass.

as rafe settled into his seat, his eyes drifted across the room and landed on you. you were seated a few tables away, engrossed in a book, your fingers playing absently with your hair. there was something about you—maybe the peaceful way you seemed lost in your own world—that caught his attention. it had been a long time since he had felt that pull, the quiet intrigue of wanting to know someone.

oliver’s voice pulled him back. "daddy, can I have a cookie?"

"after lunch, buddy," rafe replied, ruffling his son’s hair. "let’s get something to eat first."

when the barista brought their sandwiches and a small cookie for oliver, rafe took the chance to glance your way again. to his surprise, you were looking back, a soft smile on your lips. it was enough to stir something inside him, a quiet encouragement to make a move he hadn’t considered in a long while.

gathering his nerve, rafe stood and walked over to your table, oliver trailing behind him. “hi,” he said, his voice warm but a bit unsure. “do you mind if we sit here? my son has a lot to say about dinosaurs, and i’d love a little adult conversation.”

your smile widened as you nodded. “of course. I could use some dinosaur facts myself.”

as rafe and oliver settled into seats across from you, the conversation flowed easily. rafe learned that you were new in town, working as a teacher at the local elementary school. you asked about his work and how he managed to juggle everything as a single parent. there was a natural chemistry, an ease in the way you spoke, the laughter that bubbled up between shared stories.

oliver, ever the chatterbox, quickly took a liking to you. he proudly showed off his toy, launching into an animated explanation of why the t-rex was the king of dinosaurs. you listened with genuine interest, your enthusiasm making oliver beam with pride.

by the time the rain had stopped, it felt as though you’d known each other much longer than just a single afternoon. before you left, rafe asked for your number, a hopeful gleam in his eyes. “maybe we could do this again sometime? without the rain.”

you agreed, your heart fluttering at the prospect.

in the weeks that followed, the two of you saw more of each other. rafe would pick you up after work, oliver bouncing in the back seat, eager to share his day. dinners turned into outings at the park, where oliver’s giggles echoed through the playground, rafe's hand finding yours as you watched him play. the three of you fit together seamlessly, like a puzzle you hadn’t known was missing a piece.

one evening, after oliver had been tucked into bed, rafe invited you to stay for a late-night movie. the living room was cozy, the soft glow of the tv casting shadows on the walls. you sat close, the warmth of his arm around your shoulders, the quiet intimacy of the moment stretching between you.

when the movie ended, neither of you moved, the silence filled with unspoken words. rafe turned to you, his eyes searching yours. "i've really missed this," he said softly. "having someone to share my life with. i'm glad it's with you"

you reached for his hand, threading your fingers through his. "me too."

the kiss that followed was tender, a slow, gentle meeting of lips that spoke of more than just attraction—it was a promise of what could be. as you leaned into him, the weight of loneliness lifted, replaced by the warmth of a growing love.

in the months that followed, you became a part of their lives in every way. weekends were spent building blanket forts with oliver, evenings filled with quiet moments on the couch, your laughter mingling with rafe’s as you recounted the day’s events.

the day oliver called you "mommy" for the first time, your heart swelled with emotion. rafe squeezed your hand, his eyes shining with gratitude and love.

you were no longer just a visitor in their lives. you were family, a bond formed through shared moments, love, and the quiet understanding that together, you had built something beautiful.

taglist: @namelesslosers @maybanksangel @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @rafesheaven @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog @slavicangelmuah @alivinggirl @rafesbabygirlx

[sleepingdiaryzzz]

ᴇᴄʜᴏᴇs ᴏғ ʀᴇɢʀᴇᴛ

ʙʀᴜᴄᴇ ᴡᴀʏɴᴇ x ɴᴇɢʟᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

I keep seeing neglected reader on my tags so I just wanted join in 🤗

ᴍᴏʀᴇ ʜᴇʀᴇ!

The Batcave was eerily quiet, the usual hum of machinery and the occasional rustle of paperwork replaced by the soft sound of a child’s muted whimpers. Bruce stood in the shadows, his eyes fixed on the small form curled up on the couch, barely visible beneath the pile of blankets and pillows. The child, no longer the one he'd once pushed aside, seemed to exist in a world far beyond his reach.

His heart clenched when they shifted, those silent tears that fell like raindrops that he'd never quite been able to catch. He hated that he couldn't fix what he'd broken, no matter how hard he tried. All the wealth, all the power, none of it could mend the distance he'd created. But now, in this cavernous space where shadows ruled and secrets whispered, Bruce was trapped in his regret.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice softer than he'd ever let it be before, as he approached the couch, bending down to meet their eyes.

Reader's gaze was fixed elsewhere, lost in the memories that lingered like ghostly echoes. A broken sigh left their lips. Bruce had made mistakes, but this—their distance—was one he could never bridge with words alone.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” they murmured, their voice almost inaudible beneath the weight of the years. “Nothing will change it now.”

They curled deeper into themselves, the soft rustle of fabric only adding to the bitter silence. Bruce frowned but kept his distance. His hands twitched with the desire to reach out, to hold them close, but he was well aware that doing so would only bring more pain. The walls they'd built were taller now, sharper. There was no way in.

It hadn’t always been this way, of course. Once, they had trusted him—believed in him as a father, as the man who could protect them from anything. But those days had been forgotten in the cruel labyrinth of his own failure. He'd seen it, watched them grow from afar, sure that his way of loving them—distant, reserved, and ever cautious—was enough. But he hadn’t realized that love was not a thing to be claimed, a thing to be controlled. It was something to nurture, to build, to protect with patience and understanding. Something he'd lacked.

He took a step forward. “I know I failed you,” he said, but this time there was no deflection. The words were heavy, real. “But I am trying to make it right, and I’ll keep trying. You don’t have to be alone.”

The words fell like a hollow echo in the stillness of the cave. Reader shifted, pulling the blankets tighter around them. There was a coldness in their gaze when they finally looked up at him.

“I don’t need you now. I didn’t need you then,” they whispered, their voice steady but laced with a bitterness that cut deep. “I had another family… one that didn’t abandon me.”

Bruce’s breath hitched, the pain of the truth settling deep in his chest. The weight of their words pressed against him like a thousand stones, heavier than any enemy he'd ever faced.

"Don't say that," he murmured, his hand reaching for them, but they pulled away, the rejection too swift, too sharp. The distance between them seemed vast, a gulf that no gesture could cross. "I know I made mistakes... but I’m here now. You’re not alone anymore."

They stared at him for a long moment, as if weighing every word he'd spoken, every action he'd taken. They’d been so small when he'd first met them, so innocent in their trust. He thought back to the days when their laughter had filled the Manor, when they'd looked at him like he was their world. It felt like someone else’s life now, a time when he wasn’t as broken as he was now.

“I miss my dad,” [name] said softly, so quietly that it almost seemed like a plea. Their eyes were distant, lost in memories Bruce would never be able to share. “I miss the family that actually cared about me.”

Bruce’s hand faltered, falling to his side as the weight of those words crushed him. They were right. He hadn’t been a father to them, not in the way they needed. His life, wrapped up in Gotham’s shadows and the endless pursuit of justice, had left no room for the most important thing: them.

A wave of guilt surged through him, drowning out everything else. "I’m here, baby girl," he whispered, though he knew how hollow it sounded. There was no magic in those words anymore. They had no weight, no warmth. Just the coldness of regret.

[Name] didn’t look up, didn’t acknowledge his words. Their gaze was elsewhere—lost to the past, to the family they had once known, the family who had cared for them when he couldn’t. The emptiness in their eyes spoke volumes, far more than any word could.

"I never needed you to come back," they said quietly, as if the words were simply a fact now, not an accusation. "I survived without you."

Bruce stood there, struck mute by the truth of it. The echoes of his failures rang louder than anything else. All the money, the power, the endless resources of the Wayne family had never mattered when it came to the one thing that would have truly made a difference: love. The kind of love that nurtured, protected, and understood.

He didn’t know how much time passed before they spoke again, but the silence stretched on like a wound that refused to heal.

"I don’t want your pity," they murmured, their voice so small that it cut him to the core. “You can’t fix me now. You can’t fix this.”

Their words were quiet, but they were final. The finality of it hit Bruce harder than any punch. He had been a hero to Gotham, had saved lives, had put down enemies. But when it came to the one thing that mattered most, he had failed utterly.

They were slipping away from him, even now. And there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Bruce stepped back, the weight of the truth settling into the hollow space between them. For a moment, he allowed himself to feel that emptiness, to understand just how much he had lost. He had missed out on a life that could have been, a life he could have shared with them if only he had been there.

He swallowed hard and turned, the overwhelming weight of regret pulling him deeper into the shadows.

"I’m sorry," he repeated, even though he knew it would never be enough.

But the words hung in the air like a fragile thing, doomed to fade before it could truly be heard.

And [name]? They simply lay there, wrapped in their own world—a world Bruce could never return to.

[celestialgalaxyglow]

Batfam and Danny, Part 12

Danny: Hey Alfred, I was going through some old files and I was wondering if you could explain something to me.

Alfred: Sure thing Master Daniel.

Danny: How long were each of the Robins, Robin?

Alfred: Well Dick was Robin from the time he was 14 till he was 17, when he decided to become Nightwing. After that your father was Robin from the time he was 14 till 16, when the Joker... killed him. He was gone for six months but by the time he retuned Tim had become the new Robin so your father become Red Hood. Tim was Robin from the ages of 14 to 17, Till Steph came to us and he gave the mantel of Robin to her and became Red Robin. Steph was Robin from the age of 17 to 18, she gave up the mantel to Damian when he was dropped off by Miss al Ghul and took the name Spoiler. Damian took up the mantel of Robin upon his arrival at the age of 10 and has been Robin for the last two years.

Danny: Ok, how old is everyone?

Alfred: Dick is 25, Jason is 22, hopefully you knew that one, Tim and Barbara are 20, Steph, Cass, and Duke are 19, Damian 12, Master Bruce is 34, and my age is classified information.

Danny (laughing): How do I gain clearance to access that information.

Alfred: I grant the clearance.

Danny: Can I have clearance?

Alfred: No.

They laughed.

Alfred: I must ask Danny, what brought along this line of questioning?

Danny: It's the way Bruce talks about the former Robins. The official reports state their ages the way you told them, but between the lines, and the way Bruce talks about their times of Robins I imagined they were all around ten when they took up the mantel.

Alfred: That's a reasonable conclusion to reach. Even though everyone, except Damian, were already teenagers when Bruce took them in, he's always talked about them as if they were little kids. And in all honesty he still does.

Danny: Hmm, interesting. Wait so Bruce took on Dick in when he was 24?

Alfred: Yes. Not even a fully grown adult, the brain doesn't fully develop till the age of 25, but yet Bruce decided to adopt a kid 10 years younger than him.

Danny: Our family is strange.

Alfred (sipping his tea): That it is.

Later at Jason and Danny's apartment.

Danny: Dad can I ask you something?

Jason: What is it kid?

Danny: How did everyone react when you came back to life?

Jason: Oh, that is a story! So after I fought my way back to the Land of the Living I woke up in my coffin and dug my way out. I was a bit disoriented, but somehow made my way around the manor to the front door. I remember nocking and Alfred opening the door and that's it. This part I got from Alfred, I feel into his arms, he called for Bruce, and I was sent to a medical bed in the Batcave. When I came to, Bruce, Alfred, and Dick where next to me. They were happy to see me again, but very confused as to how I came back to life. I explained my story, and Dick started laughing, saying only I of all people would fight my way back to being alive. Bruce on the other hand would not stop apologizing for my death, no matter how many times I told him I forgave him. That's also when I learned that Bruce had killed the Joker.

Danny: What about Tim?

Jason: Tim was hiding behind a wall. Poor kid thought I'd be mad at him for stealing my job as Robin. I told him I wasn't mad and that I was done with all the vigilante stuff for the time, and wanted to take a break. He was also a little worried that Bruce would kick him out but we all put a stop to those concerns, he was part of the family and he wasn't getting rid of us that easily. Anyways, the next day Bruce tackled my legally dead status by creating a fake body of me and putting it in the coffin. So when the police asked questions, they saw a very alive me, and a very fake body in the coffin, and Gotham being Gotham, they didn't ask further question, and my legally dead status was revoked.

Danny: Really? No further questions? Like where you've been for the last six months?

Jason: Nope. But I was allowed to keep my death certificate.

Danny: What about Gotham high society and the general population?

Jason: We told this story that some madmen had kidnapped me and that I managed to escape and make it home. Everyone bought it, or at least knew better than to question it.

Danny: Honestly, that checks out.

Jason: Anyways, after that I started helping Tim train, and after two months of rest I decided to jump back to work and took up the name of Red Hood, and started infiltrating Gotham's criminal underground and quickly rose the ranks. Keep in mind I didn't tell anyone, so Bruce got concerned about this new guy taking over Gotham's criminals and sent Tim to spy. I quickly caught him and brought him for an "interrogation." I expected Bruce to send Tim so I prepared an evil monologue and everything. After I was done monologuing I removed my mask and started lecturing Tim about how easily I caught him, and that Bruce, Dick, and I taught him better. Tim got mad and we started having a screaming match. Shortly after that Bruce arrived and saw us. Bruce was not happy that I decided to go back to vigilante business without saying anything, but he was proud of the work I was doing, so I got away with it. And that's more or less everything.

Danny: I love this family.

Jason: Yeah, we're great. I still have a grave, right next to grandma and grandpa. ... Please don't tell Bruce I called his Martha and Thomas, grandma and grandpa, poor guy will start crying and hugging me while calling me his son.

Danny (laughing): Don't worry I won't.

(Master Post)

Current ages

Bruce - 34

Alfred - [Classified]

Dick - 25

Jason - 22

Tim - 20

Barbara - 20

Steph - 19

Cass - 19

Duke - 19

Danny - 16

Damian - 12

[chrissssssmut]

BOUNDED

Yandere Karina, Hanni, Danielle, Wonyoung, Liz, Chaewon and Yunjin x Male Reader

*SORRY I FINISHED THIS STORY WAY TOO FAST HAHAHAH but here enjoy!🙏*

You had never imagined your life would turn into something out of a K-drama. After your dad remarried, you suddenly found yourself with seven new stepsisters—each one impossibly beautiful and somehow way out of your league in terms of charm and charisma. At first, the arrangement was simple enough: they ignored you, rolling their eyes or tossing sharp remarks whenever you tried to bond with them. To them, you were just some awkward, out-of-place stepbrother who didn’t belong in their picture-perfect world.

“Don’t touch my stuff, oppa,” Wonyoung had said within the first week, drawing an invisible line around her side of the house.

“Do you even know how to use a dishwasher?” Hanni had teased one evening, earning giggles from Danielle and Liz.

Even Karina, the most composed of the group, had given you cold, detached stares whenever you tried to strike up a conversation.

It was fine. You figured they needed time to adjust, and honestly, so did you. Life went on, and you kept your head low, avoiding their world of glittering social events, designer wardrobes, and seemingly endless selfies.

But things changed when you grew up.

You weren’t the same awkward teen anymore. College life molded you into someone more confident, someone who knew how to dress well, speak up, and draw attention without even trying. Suddenly, your step sisters weren’t just tolerating you—they were noticing you.

It started with small, innocent gestures.

“Oppa, I made extra coffee. Want some?” Yunjin smiled one morning, sliding a cup toward you.

“You’ve been working out, haven’t you?” Chaewon commented one day, casually brushing past you in the hallway. “You look… different.”

Hanni started asking for your opinion on her outfits. Danielle insisted you join their movie nights. Wonyoung, who used to act like you didn’t exist, began hovering around you during family dinners, peppering you with questions about your day.

It felt harmless at first, even flattering. But soon, things began to escalate.

The Turning Point

You were excited for your first real date with a girl from your university. Her name was Mina—sweet, down-to-earth, and refreshingly normal compared to the chaos at home. But when you mentioned her name over dinner, the air in the dining room shifted.

“Who’s Mina?” Karina asked, her voice sharp despite her calm demeanor.

“She’s just a friend,” you replied casually, sensing the sudden tension.

“A friend?” Wonyoung repeated, her fork clinking against her plate. “You’ve never mentioned her before.”

“She’s not that important,” you said, trying to brush it off.

The next morning, Mina canceled on you.

“I’m so sorry,” she texted. “Something came up. Let’s reschedule?”

You were disappointed but didn’t think much of it—until you noticed Chaewon smirking at you from across the living room later that day.

“Plans didn’t work out?” she asked, feigning innocence.

Something about the way she said it made your stomach twist.

The more you tried to explore your social life, the tighter their grip became.

When you mentioned studying late at the library, Danielle would suddenly “accidentally” spill water on your laptop. “Oops, oppa! I guess you’ll have to stay home and fix that.”

When you came home with a new phone, Liz snatched it from your hands, scrolling through your messages before handing it back with a tight smile. “Just making sure you’re not texting anyone shady.”

And when you decided to crash at a friend’s place for the weekend, Yunjin and Chaewon appeared at your door that night, claiming they “missed you too much to stay apart.”

Every time you tried to push back, they found a way to pull you closer.

It wasn’t until Karina set the new house rules that things turned truly sinister.

“Oppa, it’s for your own good,” she said, her tone soft but unyielding. “You’re too naive. The world outside is dangerous.”

Before you could argue, Wonyoung locked the front door. The key disappeared after that.

Thrilling Descent

The days blurred together in a twisted routine. You weren’t allowed to leave the house, and your phone was constantly “misplaced.” Any attempt to escape or call for help was met with swift punishment.

“Why don’t you trust us?” Hanni whispered one night, her eyes glistening with unshed tears as she blocked the hallway. “We only want to protect you.”

Whenever you refused to comply, they’d gang up on you. “If you’re going to be stubborn, oppa, we’ll have to keep a closer eye on you,” Liz said, leading you back to your room and locking the door behind you.

Their sweet smiles masked something darker—a possessiveness that sent shivers down your spine.

An Attempt

One night, you found a chance to snuck out—a window left unlocked, a moment of freedom within reach. You climbed out, your heart pounding as you sprinted into the night.

But before you could reach the gate, Karina stepped out of the shadows, a sinister grin attached to her face.

“Oppa,” she said, her voice calm yet chilling. “Did you really think you could leave us?”

Behind her, the others emerged one by one, their faces shadowed but their intentions clear.

“You’re ours,” Wonyoung whispered, stepping closer. “And we’ll never let you out of our sight, brother.”

The night after Karina and the others caught you trying to sneak out, they didn’t say a word. They didn’t yell, they didn’t cry. Instead, they simply guided you back to the house, their eerie calmness unsettling. Karina spoke softly as she locked the door behind you.

“I hope you learned your lesson, oppa. We don’t want to hurt you. But if you push us, we’ll have no choice.”

Your heart pounded as you stood there, drenched and trapped. You knew you had to tell your dad. He’d understand, right? He had to.

The next morning, you managed to get him alone in his office before he left for yet another business trip.

“Dad, I need to talk to you,” you started, your voice trembling.

He looked up from his laptop, his brow furrowed. “What’s wrong, son? You look stressed.”

“It’s about… them. My stepsisters. They’ve been acting really strange. They’re controlling everything I do—they won’t let me leave the house. Last night, they even—”

Your dad sighed, cutting you off. “I know they can be a little overbearing, but they’re just being protective. They’re girls, you know? They worry about you.”

“Dad, it’s not normal. They—”

“Listen,” he said, placing a hand on your shoulder. “I’m proud of you for being mature about this. They’ve had a tough time adjusting, too. Give it time. And if it gets too much, just talk to them directly, okay? You’re all family now.”

You stared at him in disbelief, your stomach sinking. “Dad, you don’t understand—”

“I have to catch my flight,” he said, brushing past you. “We’ll talk when I get back. Be good to your sisters, alright? I love you, son.”

The door closed behind him, leaving you alone in the silence.

Your dad’s absence wasn’t unusual. His work took him overseas for months at a time, and your mom—always tied up in her own international projects—was equally distant. It left you entirely at the mercy of your stepsisters, who wasted no time tightening their grip.

“Did you tell Dad?” Hanni asked innocently later that day, sitting cross-legged on the couch with Danielle.

The way she looked at you—head tilted, smile too sweet—sent a chill down your spine.

“Of course he did,” Chaewon said from the kitchen, her voice light but laced with menace. “Not that it matters. Right, oppa?”

You clenched your fists, refusing to meet their eyes.

A New Plan

Desperation clawed at you as the days dragged on. Your phone was still missing, and every attempt to sneak out was thwarted before it even began. It was as if they always knew what you were planning.

One night, you overheard Karina and Yunjin talking in hushed voices near the stairs.

“He’s been quieter lately,” Karina said. “Good. He’s learning.”

“Still,” Yunjin replied, “we can’t let our guard down. He’s stubborn.”

You realized then that the only way to escape was to outsmart them—to make them think you’d given up.

For the next week, you played along.

You smiled when Wonyoung asked you to help her with her makeup routine, even letting her brush against your arm a little too much.

You joined Danielle and Hanni for movie nights, laughing at their jokes and pretending not to notice how they pressed themselves against you on the couch.

When Liz asked you to cook dinner with her, you obliged, biting back your frustration as she leaned over your shoulder, her hand brushing yours.

“You’re being so good lately, oppa,” Chaewon remarked one evening, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. “I like it.”

You forced a laugh. “Maybe I’m finally getting used to this family thing.”

Your chance came late one night when you spotted Yunjin leaving her room, keys dangling from her hand. She’d been careless, leaving her door ajar as she went downstairs.

Heart racing, you slipped inside her room and began searching. It didn’t take long to find what you were looking for: your phone, tucked away in her nightstand.

You grabbed it, your fingers shaking as you powered it on. A flood of notifications popped up—missed calls from friends, messages from Mina, and even emails from your professors wondering why you hadn’t shown up to class.

But before you could call for help, the door creaked open behind you.

“What do you think you’re doing, oppa?” Yunjin’s voice was soft, but the anger in her eyes was unmistakable.

You froze, clutching the phone tightly. “I… I just wanted to check something.”

She stepped closer, her expression darkening. “You’re lying.”

Before you could react, the others appeared behind her, one by one, their faces shadowed but their presence overwhelming.

“Oppa,” Karina said, her tone calm but cold. “We trusted you. And this is how you repay us?”

Wonyoung shook her head, her eyes glistening with tears. “Why would you do this to us?”

“I just wanted—”

“You don’t need anything outside of us,” Liz interrupted, her voice trembling with emotion.

Yunjin snatched the phone from your hand, tossing it to the floor. It shattered on impact, the sound echoing through the room.

“Enough,” Karina said, stepping forward. “It seems you still haven’t learned.”

A Dangerous Game

They didn’t lock you in your room this time. Instead, they kept you close, always watching, always near.

When you tried to retreat to the bathroom, Danielle stood outside the door, humming softly.

When you went to bed, Wonyoung insisted on sleeping in your room, claiming she “had nightmares.”

Everywhere you turned, one of them was there, their sweet smiles masking something darker.

“You’ll see, oppa,” Chaewon whispered one night as she tucked the blanket around you, her fingers lingering on your arm. “We’re all you’ll ever need.”

The realization hit you like a tidal wave: there was no escaping them. Not while you were under this roof.

But you weren’t giving up.

Not yet.

The days turned into weeks, and you quickly learned that resistance only made things worse. The sisters weren’t just possessive—they were meticulous, calculating every move you made as if it were a game of chess. You were the pawn, and they were the queens, slowly closing in on you.

“You don’t need anyone else,” Hanni whispered one evening, brushing a lock of hair away from your face as you sat trapped on the couch. Danielle was curled up beside you, her head resting on your shoulder.

“We’re all you’ll ever need, oppa,” Danielle added, her voice a soft melody that sent chills down your spine.

They controlled every aspect of your life now. Your meals were prepared by them, your wardrobe was chosen by them, and your free time was spent under their watchful eyes. Any attempt to rebel was met with swift punishment.

One night, you tried breaking a window to escape, but before you could climb out, Karina and Yunjin dragged you back into the house, their strength surprising.

“We warned you, oppa,” Karina said, her voice icy. “You’re ours. Why can’t you just accept that?”

Yunjin smirked, holding up the shards of broken glass. “If you’re going to act like a child, we’ll have to treat you like one.”

They locked you in your room for three days after that, only letting you out when you promised—no, begged—to behave.

Your mental state began to deteriorate. The isolation, the constant surveillance, the manipulation—it was suffocating. You found yourself second-guessing everything, wondering if maybe they were right.

“We’re just trying to protect you, oppa,” Liz said one afternoon as she caressed your hair, her touch oddly soothing. “The outside world is so dangerous. People out there… they don’t love you like we do.”

“Love?” you repeated, your voice hollow.

Wonyoung nodded, her eyes wide and earnest. “Of course we love you. More than anyone else ever could.”

It was in the way they said it—in their unwavering gazes and saccharine smiles—that made you realize just how far they were willing to go.

The Birthday Incident

Your birthday was supposed to be a moment of reprieve, a chance to reconnect with the world outside. Instead, it became the turning point—the moment you truly understood there was no escape.

They threw you a party, decorating the house with balloons and streamers. The dining table was piled high with your favorite foods, and a cake sat in the center, candles flickering.

“Make a wish, oppa!” Danielle chirped, clapping her hands.

As you closed your eyes, you thought of freedom. Of running far, far away from this nightmare.

But when you opened your eyes, the sight before you made your blood run cold.

Your phone was there, fixed and placed neatly beside the cake. For a moment, hope flared in your chest.

“You’re letting me have my phone back?” you asked cautiously.

Karina smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Of course. It’s your special day.”

You grabbed it, your fingers trembling as you powered it on. The screen lit up, and you quickly navigated to your messages.

Only to find them empty.

No calls, no texts, no contacts.

“What… what did you do?” you whispered, your voice breaking.

“We cleaned it up for you,” Yunjin said, leaning casually against the table. “No distractions. Just us.”

Your stomach churned as you looked at them, their smiles widening as realization dawned.

“This isn’t love,” you said, your voice trembling. “This is… this is insane.”

Wonyoung tilted her head, her expression almost pitying. “Oh, oppa. You’ll understand someday.”

From that day on, they tightened their grip even further. The locks on the doors were reinforced. The windows were barred. Every move you made was monitored, every word you spoke carefully scrutinized.

When you tried to rebel, they punished you—not with violence, but with manipulation.

“We’re only doing this because we love you,” Chaewon whispered one night as she held your hand, her grip firm. “Why can’t you see that?”

And when you begged for your freedom, they only smiled.

“You don’t need freedom,” Karina said, her voice soft but unyielding. “You have us.”

The Final Descent

One stormy evening, as thunder rumbled in the distance, you sat in the living room, surrounded by them. They were laughing, talking, acting like everything was normal. But you couldn’t take it anymore.

“You’ve ruined my life,” you said suddenly, your voice cutting through the laughter.

The room fell silent.

“Oppa,” Hanni said softly, her eyes wide. “Why would you say that?”

“You’ve trapped me here,” you continued, your voice rising. “This isn’t a family. This is a prison.”

For a moment, no one spoke. Then Karina stood, her expression unreadable as she walked over to you.

“Oppa,” she said, crouching down so she was at eye level. “You need to understand something.”

Her hand reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“You belong to us. And we’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. Whatever it takes.”

The others nodded in unison, their gazes unwavering.

And in that moment, as the storm raged outside and their words echoed in your ears, you realized the truth.

There was no escape…for now..

The storm outside grew more violent, the howling winds rattling the barred windows. As the sisters began retreating to their rooms for the night, you felt the familiar weight of hopelessness settle in your chest. But tonight, something was different. As you stared out the window, lightning briefly illuminated the outside—the gate was ajar. Maybe one of them had forgotten to lock it after bringing in groceries earlier. It was a slim chance, but it was a chance nonetheless.

You waited until the house fell silent, the sisters presumably asleep. Silently, you slipped on your sneakers, heart pounding as you made your way down the creaking staircase. Every sound felt deafening in the stillness, but you couldn’t stop now.

When you reached the door, you froze. The key was still in the lock. A miracle. With shaking hands, you turned it slowly, praying they wouldn’t hear the faint click as the lock disengaged. The moment it did, you pushed the door open and bolted into the storm.

The rain was cold, soaking you instantly as you sprinted down the driveway and toward the open gate. Freedom was within reach. The pounding of your heart drowned out the thunder as you crossed the threshold, stepping into the empty street beyond.

But then, headlights.

You turned just in time to see a car barreling toward you, the driver unable to stop in the rain-slicked road. The impact was sudden and brutal, sending you sprawling onto the pavement. Pain exploded through your body as darkness consumed you.

Waking in a Nightmare

When you finally came to, the bright lights of the hospital room burned your eyes. The beeping of monitors echoed faintly in your ears, and your body felt heavy, restrained by the weight of painkillers and bandages.

“You’re awake,” a soft voice said, and you turned your head to see a nurse standing by your bedside. She smiled kindly, adjusting the IV line in your arm. “You’re lucky. The accident could’ve been much worse.”

For a moment, relief washed over you. You’d escaped. You’d finally gotten away.

“Where am I?” you croaked, your throat dry.

“The city hospital,” the nurse replied. “You’ve been here for a few days. Don’t worry, we’ve been taking good care of you.”

You tried to sit up, but the pain in your ribs forced you back down. “My parents… Did you call them?”

The nurse hesitated, glancing at the clipboard in her hands. “We tried contacting your parents, but they’re both out of the country and couldn’t be reached. So, we contacted the next closest people to you.”

Your blood turned to ice.

“No,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Please tell me you didn’t—”

Before you could finish, the door to your room creaked open. One by one, they walked in—Karina, Wonyoung, Hanni, Chaewon, Yunjin, Danielle, Liz. Their perfect faces were painted with expressions of concern, but there was something sinister lurking beneath their sweet smiles.

“Oppa!” Wonyoung cried, rushing to your bedside. “We were so worried about you!”

“You should’ve told us you were leaving,” Karina said, her tone soft yet reproachful. “We could’ve kept you safe.”

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” Yunjin added, her hand resting lightly on your shoulder.

You stared at them in disbelief, your heart hammering in your chest. “How… How did you find me?”

“We’re family, oppa,” Chaewon said, sitting on the edge of your bed. “We always know where to find you.”

Danielle leaned over, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You scared us, you know. But it’s okay. You’re safe now. And we’re not letting you out of our sight again.”

You looked toward the nurse, desperate for help, but she only smiled. “Your sisters have been here every day, taking care of you. You’re lucky to have such a loving family.”

“No,” you whispered, panic rising. “They’re not my family. They’re—”

Hanni shushed you gently, pressing a finger to your lips. “Shh, oppa. Don’t upset yourself. You need to rest.”

The nurse nodded. “She’s right. You need to focus on recovering. Your sisters will make sure you have everything you need.”

You wanted to scream, to beg the nurse to call the police, but your body betrayed you, too weak to fight back. The sisters crowded closer, their presence suffocating.

Karina leaned in, her hand brushing against yours. “Don’t worry, oppa. We’ll take you home soon. Everything will be just like it was before.”

“No,” you rasped, tears streaming down your face. “Please. Let me go.”

But their smiles only widened.

“You’re ours,” Wonyoung whispered, her voice dripping with possessiveness. “Forever.”

The days that followed were a blur of enforced care. The sisters rarely left your side, taking turns watching over you. Karina handled the paperwork for your discharge, ensuring you’d return home as soon as possible. Hanni and Yunjin fed you, their hands lingering a little too long as they helped you eat. Wonyoung fluffed your pillows, her touch oddly tender, while Danielle played soft music to “help you relax.”

You quickly realized there was no escape. Not here, not in the hospital, and certainly not once they took you back to the house. The accident had sealed your fate, tethering you to them in a way that felt unbreakable.

As they wheeled you out of the hospital on the day of your discharge, you saw the car waiting for you—sleek, black, and ominous. Karina held the door open, her smile as sweet as poison.

“Welcome home, oppa,” she said softly.

The ride home from the hospital felt suffocating. The rain poured down in sheets, blurring the windows of the van Karina had insisted they use to bring you back. You were silent, your leg still throbbing in its cast, while the others chatted in low voices, as if you weren’t even there.

“Don’t worry, oppa,” Wonyoung chirped from the front seat, turning her head to give you a sweet but unsettling smile. “We’ve made some changes to the house. You’ll love it.”

Your stomach twisted at her words. You had been too weak to resist when they insisted on signing you out of the hospital and taking you home. The nurse’s words still rang in your ears:

“They’re your family now, and they seemed so concerned about you. You’re lucky to have them.”

Lucky. You swallowed hard, your mouth dry, as the van pulled into the driveway. The house loomed in the darkness, its windows casting faint, flickering light like the eyes of a predator waiting for its prey.

The moment the van stopped, Chaewon and Danielle were by your side, unbuckling your seatbelt and helping you into the wheelchair. Their hands were gentle, almost too careful, but you could feel the iron grip of their control in every movement.

“Careful, oppa,” Danielle murmured, tucking a blanket around your lap. “We wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself again.”

The door to the house opened, and Yunjin stood in the doorway, her silhouette framed by the dim glow of the lights inside. “Welcome home,” she said softly, her voice carrying an edge of finality.

As they wheeled you inside, your breath caught in your throat. The house you remembered was gone. The cozy warmth and modern elegance had been replaced by something much darker. The walls were painted a muted gray, the windows draped with heavy blackout curtains that allowed no glimpse of the outside world.

But it was the dining room that sent a chill down your spine.

The large dining table had been modified—no, transformed. Each chair was outfitted with thick leather straps on the armrests and legs, as well as a wide belt across the backrest. The table itself had been cleared of its usual decorations, leaving only an eerie emptiness that seemed to magnify the oppressive atmosphere.

“What is this?” you croaked, your voice barely audible.

“It’s for your own safety, oppa,” Karina said, stepping in front of you. Her expression was calm, almost soothing, but her eyes betrayed something far more chilling.

“You’re so clumsy,” Wonyoung added with a giggle, her hand brushing against your shoulder as she leaned closer. “We can’t risk you running off and getting hurt again.”

They wheeled you to one of the chairs, and Chaewon knelt beside you, her fingers brushing your cast as she smiled. “See? This way, you’ll always be safe. Always with us.”

Your body tensed as Liz and Hanni began strapping you in, their movements precise and practiced. You tried to resist, but your weakened state made it impossible to fight them off. The straps were snug but not painful, their tightness a cruel reminder of how little freedom you had left.

“Please,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “You don’t have to do this.”

“We do, oppa,” Yunjin said from behind you, her tone soft but unyielding. “You don’t understand yet, but you will. We’re all you need.”

Bound Forever

As the final strap was secured, Karina crouched down in front of you, her hands resting lightly on your knees. “This is your home now. There’s nothing out there for you—nothing but pain and loneliness. But here… here you’re loved. Here you’re safe.”

Tears burned in your eyes as the reality of your situation sank in. There would be no more escape attempts, no more fleeting moments of hope. The house had become your prison, and your step sisters were its wardens.

“We’ll take care of you, oppa,” Wonyoung said, her voice almost a whisper as she kissed your cheek.

“Forever,” Chaewon added, her fingers brushing against your hair.

As they stood around you, their smiles unwavering and their eyes filled with an unsettling devotion, you realized the horrifying truth: you weren’t just bound to them by straps or walls. You were bound by their obsession, and there was no escaping it.

Not now. Not ever.

[ptej1980]

We see what we see….

This is my first post so if you are not a Lukola, on the ship, and believe in end game my blog may not be for you.

Bit of background…I am an Aussie Lukola, and have been on the ship since the first interview dropped in 2024. I got hooked on their energy and their chemistry, the way they spoke about each other and how they looked at each other.

I don’t like to be hand fed information, I like to do my own research, and if you have a gut instinct that something is not right, it probably isn’t.

Throughout this whole cruise 🚢 I have never gotten off the ship. There has been no point. We see what we see and what we have seen can not be matched.

Rumors

Luke and Antonia (twerk)

Antonia has been known in the fandom by many names, twerk/tink/lettuce🐜 she first appeared on the scene as a friend of a friend, Jack Vine. He is someone who is very close to Luke. There are pics and rumors that they may be connected romantically. But…who knows. She started to pop up with Luke, well I am sure you know the rest. We have random pics of L&A together, no real PDA, unless you count life guard Luke where he looks like he is holding a smelly baby. To this day, no confirmation, purely speculation, random pasta pics and all connection has been scrubbed from social media. IMO they were never in a relationship, she was just a friend of a friend that he was helping out, which turned sour after papgate.

Nic and JD (twink)

JD is affectionately called twink by his friends on SM. It is not an offensive term, it was coined by artist Troy Sivan, meaning young good looking gay man. I am just stating facts. Nic and JD have been friends since they met at the RN premier. The two of them have not only been papped constantly, but have also shared pics together with their friends. They have also never confirmed a relationship, yet the magazines, social media and sub fandom have confirmed the rumor for them, labeling Jake as Nics boyfriend. JD and Nics friends time and time again have tried to correct the narrative and say it without actually saying it. I mean come on dancing around singing Pink pony club”. IMO if it looks like a bird, has feathers and flys it is probably a bird.

Now my favourite…..

Facts….

Luke and Nic

1. In Australia Luke drank, shared Nicola’s tea, ☕️ the journalist was asked about it, she commented and said “it is ok they are in love”. In Brazil Luke went to grab and share Nics spoon and Nic gives Luke her cup to drink from. In Italy 🐜 goes to hand Luke a drink and he looks like it is poison.

2. Nicola carried/carries a Polaroid of Luke on her phone case. We first saw it in Australia and continued all through to the summer. She even posted it in her End of year dump, posting her skims campaign

3. These 2 had no end of PDA, from holding hands to being human magnets, heart eyes, cuddling thigh touches, but pinching…the list goes on.

4. Both Nic and Luke were unhinged, sexual innuendo, being called out on a live interview in Australia on the first WT stop. It just kept escalating. I mean we all remember “the bridgerton ride”.

5 They broke a couch and did not hear cut in their intimacy scenes. They lounged together naked, the scenes were not choreographed and they both said it was they favourite scenes to film.

6. Nic designed a claudagh ring collection, which was articled to be a bespoke for season 3. The rings on the hands of the claudagh are very similar to that of Luke and Nicola has been wearing the rings in the committed position since the Galway premiere. Chupi also has the rings listed under the engagement section on their website

7 In Galway Luke met Nics mum in a PDA with a long hug that made Nic cry. He also spent time with her family, where her brother in law tried to get him drunk on Guinness.

8. Cast, crew and Journalists ship Nic and Luke. Most notably Ryan Wheeler, Shonda and Shondaland, their makeup artist ect.

I am sure I have missed some but this blog is getting long…..

Looking at all the facts and rumours, what do you think is the most likely ship? Lukola, Antluke or Jakola? It is not a hard question not really rocket science.

What I am getting at is never forget the facts, ignore all noise. We see what we see. Trust your gut, if you feel yourself spiral and walking the plank may I suggest emerse yourself in a good fan fic. The AO3 authors are fantastic writers and can be a great escape.

[therayofsonshine]

was in a&e, so no better time to do this than now! (edit: missed the entirety of this as i was logged out. FUCK. so… um here is day 17 to 24. the very late version.)

day 17: my camera roll in my dr is.. honestly a vibe. but i have the weirdest shit going on over there. it’s tame to begin with: photos of england n my family. n then it just goes to shit: pics of our empty house with boxes everywhere and carnage from moving in and getting accustomed to a new environment. and tbh i can’t be arsed to delete anything 😭 so i’ve just left it and pray i can find the photos i need in time.

i wish i had a way to organise all of my camera roll into eras of my life and categories regarding photos. but.. that’s definitely something to add to my script.

day 18: i’ve scripted in a spontaneous drinking night for the reality show. i’m somewhat subscribed to the whole “drunk words are sober thoughts” thing so it would be really interesting to see what people think of certain topics/people on the show after a few games haha. this hasn’t happened yet but i’m really looking forward to how that one pans out!

day 19: i have a few hobbies in my dr! some are a work in progress whilst others i am confident + comfortable getting on with. they include and are not limited to: thrifting (my original occupation in this dr was a fashion student, but i changed my mind as it just happens randomly and i fear i would lose all love for it if forced to create), music (ironic as my boyfriend is literally an idol), crochet/knitting, and drawing.

i enjoy making things and making myself and others feel good whilst doing them. i have knitted my family/friends quite a lot of clothing (i am LITERALLY keeping the bills paid and lights on and providing clothes on the back’s of my family like damn!). if i’m not working i’m doing one of these things. n enjoying every bit of it.

day 20: i’ve recently discovered - in fact - my main love language is NOT words of affirmation (tho it is still one of them), but quality time (which actually makes more sense to me). so any date that revolves around me spending time with another person is quite literally the most romantic thing ever. FUCK romance!!!!!

for example, recently in my CR two of my friends watched the entirety of the hobbit trilogy with me in one sitting, into the early hours of the morning. and i am STILL telling people about it because it meant the world to me. those films are long too! so! yea, something like that.

day 21: WORKING. i work too much in my cr n now i have to do it in my dr as well????? damn it’s almost like i signed up for this! but i guess that’s one of the downsides of having a family business: i actually have to help out and do the work. yikes. no i’m kidding (kinda), but working in a café is not for the weak.

also, not really a downside - as again, signed up for it - but watching people want and like yunho before i go out with him. (context: this is a dating reality show dr, so people are going to fancy him alongside me. but can i blame them?). it doesn’t make me uncomfortable or awkward tbh, just a little like… oh! oh 😔.. oh 😏😏😏. you get me.

day 22: i scripted i can cook. (….yea.) i just cannot. i can make beans on toast but that’s as chef-like i get in the kitchen, unfortunately. and obviously having to work in a baking environment + serving customers food that may potentially poison them if it doesn’t agree with them, i need to know how to cook.

that’s as good as it gets i’m afraid!

day 23: MY FAMILY ARE SUCH LOSERS LMFAO. we do those matching pyjamas on Christmas Eve. we also make gingerbread houses! which is very fun!!!!

day 24: the vibes of this dr!!! it’s technically a dr for me to be on a reality dating show so a lot of it revolves around being in love (am not complaining yo…)

day 25 (FINALLY): i spend xmas with my family. my family always book the week off and we close the café for christmas because let’s be frank who tf is coming into our shop on christmas day????? nobody yo. we’re not even in korea anyways so the shop just sits dead - and collects dust - during that time of the month. it’s a fun game to place bets on the state of the building after we return - tho we do try to leave it spotless when we leave.

xmas is always chaotic with my family it’s so funny. someone always ends up drunk and singing - eventually roping the rest of the family into it (or most LMFAO).

𝟐𝟓 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐒. ❆ ⋆⁺₊❅ .

a series of questions for the days leading up to christmas for shifters!! Some of these questions are Christmas specific and others aren’t, feel free to answer what you want and how you want, ex. moodboards, short answers, longs answers. And if you’d like, you can reblog so it reaches more shifters. Merry Christmas and Happy Shifting :) post tags are #shiftmas #shiftmas2024 tagged: @arishifter

⌗ 𝟏. christmas caroling ; What are a few songs that remind you of your dr? Why?

⌗ 𝟐. gingerbread houses ; What does your house look like in your dr? Who do you live with? What is your favorite aspect of your house?

⌗ 𝟑. eggnog ; What is some drama going on in your dr?

⌗ 𝟒. sledding ; What does a hang out with you friend group look like? Where do you go? Who is your friend group?

⌗ 𝟓. snowman ; What is your OOTD? (outfit of the day)

⌗ 𝟔. stockings ; What is your family like? What are your relationships with different members? Any extended family? Who is visiting for Christmas?

⌗ 𝟕. candy canes ; What gives you dr euphoria? (like gender euphoria but for your dr…)

⌗ 𝟖. mistletoe ; Who is your s/o? What is your dynamic and how do you spend time together? Are you two doing something special for the holiday?

⌗ 𝟗. snowflakes ; What are some headcannons you have about people in your dr?

⌗ 𝟏𝟎. icicles ; What is your occupation in your dr? Your coworkers? (Or if student, your classmates?) What is your favorite and least favorite aspect of your occupation?

⌗ 𝟏𝟏. tree skirt ; How did you find out about shifting? What was your first dr and what is your main dr now?

⌗ 𝟏𝟐. ornaments ; What are some objects you have in your dr that you don’t in your cr? Why do you have them in your dr?

⌗ 𝟏𝟑. sleigh bells ; Are there any priveleges you have in your dr that you don’t in your cr? What are they?

⌗ 𝟏𝟒. cookie cutters ; What are some smells that remind you of your dr? Why?

⌗ 𝟏𝟓. elf on the shelf ; who is your main wingman/women/person? What is your dynamic? What do you guys do when you hang out?

⌗ 𝟏𝟔. wrapping paper ; What is your favorite way to script? Why is it your favorite way?

⌗ 𝟏𝟕. gift tags ; What is your camera roll like in your dr? (photos or just describe it)

⌗ 𝟏𝟖. snowballs ; What is a silly scenario you are looking forward to in your dr?

⌗ 𝟏𝟗. mittens ; What are your hobbies in your dr? How do you usually spend your down time?

⌗ 𝟐𝟎. ice skates ; What is your ideal date in your dr? (friends or s/o)

⌗ 𝟐𝟏. coal ; What is something unpleasant you have/have to experience in your dr? Why are you not looking forward to it?

⌗ 𝟐𝟐. tinsel ; What is something fun or random you have scripted? (ex. Thundersnow is more common, you have a ring that allows you to read minds, you have good luck with thrifting, you’re good at gambling.)

⌗ 𝟐𝟑. fir tree ; What are some traditions you have in your dr but not your cr? Why?

⌗ 𝟐𝟒. hot cocoa ; put together a moodboard of your dr or you in your dr

⌗ 𝟐𝟓. christmas ; How are you spending your christmas? Who with? What might be some gifts you are giving and to who?

divider credits.

[sanjisleggy]

the siren and the sun (portgas d. ace x reader) [pt5]

a/n: gong xi fa cai my fellow ace lovers, i have returned after more than 2 weeks of no new chapter, enjoy :D also this will contain my first attempt at something vaguely smutty and im trying my best so ahsjdhsahddgsjfhd

contents: fluff!! whitebeard pirates being a whole family :’D, some suggestive themes as i attempt to write smth seggsy

wc. 1.9k

wanna be on my taglist?

part 4

i. 

the gentle rocking of the Moby Dick and the gentle streams of light filtering through your cabin blinds are what coax you awake the next morning.

blinking away the sleep in your eyes, it takes you a second to remember the events that occurred just hours ago when the sun had yet to rise and the moon stood high in its place. the memories are solidified as such–and not as mere dreams–when you feel a light stirring on top of your chest.

Ace mumbles something incoherent as he adjusts his head, still deep in slumber. his face rests on its side atop your chest as his firm arms lay on either side of your body with one hand interlocked with yours while the other stretches out and dangles over the edge of your bed. your free hand–the one not held clenched in his damp palm–is draped across his back, bent at the elbow just enough for the tips of your fingers to reach the base of his hair at the back of his neck. you drag your hand up further until his mildly sweaty, wavy hair is weaved in between your digits before you start scratching at his scalp gently.

he hums softly and shuffles a little but settles back into deep sleep with a faint smile stretching across his freckled face. taking a few quiet minutes to look at his peaceful self, a warmth swells up in your chest. you can’t quite remember the last time you’ve seen him so calm and relaxed, even as children he was always on-edge regardless of being awake or asleep.

a sudden light knocking snaps you out of your thoughts as your eyes dart over to the door of your cabin slowly swinging open just a crack.

“hey, (Y/N), you awake–” you recognise Marco’s voice before you see his face but once you do, you immediately catch how his eyes widen when he spots Ace sleeping on top of you. his mouth begins to form an ‘O’ shape but you cut him off before he can say anything embarrassing.

“leave!” your tongue tingles as you use your Devil Fruit ability, careful not to speak too loud in fear of waking the young man resting on your chest. as expected, your commander obeys without question and shuts your door but it doesn’t take long before you hear muffled shouts about how some people now owe him a lot of berry. 

“guess we won’t have to break the news ourselves, huh?” Ace mutters as his eyes flutter awake. he grins when your eyes meet his and you can’t help but smile, too. “good morning, pretty,” he hums before inching forward to brush his lips against yours.

“g’morning,” you reply in the middle of the kiss as you feel your face heat up when it dawns on you that this really is happening. you are, in fact, in bed with your childhood love and he is, in fact, kissing you good morning.

you idly wonder if life could get any better than this and, for the following months, it does.

ii.

it doesn’t take long for you and Ace to become very comfortable as partners and the endless teasing from the division commanders and Pops himself doesn’t fluster you as much as you initially worried it would. it helps that aside from poking fun at the both of you, they wholeheartedly support your relationship and aren’t afraid to show it.

Marco was the one who suggested transferring you from the first division to the second–purely out of sheer coincidence–when it was announced that Ace would officially join that division.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about,” he’d said as he turned his head away to hide his teary eyes when you asked if he would miss you being his second-in-command.

“y’know i don’t have to change divisions just for Ace, right?” you teased while elbowing Marcoin the ribs in an attempt to get him to show you his face.

“well, we all know you want to,” he replied as he ruffled your hair, “and what kind of big brother would i be to stop you?”

Vista had been the one who taught Ace about the language of flowers which eventually led to you receiving a bouquet of one hundred and eight sunflowers. when you asked him what it meant, all he did was turn red, stutter incoherently before setting himself on fire.

“he’ll tell you whenever he’s ready!” was all Vista said with a hearty chuckle when you asked him for its meaning instead, knowing full well if you tried asking Ace again the entire ship might go down in flames.

Thatch was the one who prepared a twelve course meal just for the two of you after Ace offhandedly mentioned the anniversary of the day you first met Luffy and him was coming up soon.

“how’d you even remember that?” you’d asked incredulously, finding it hard sometimes to even recall the current day of the week, let remember a single date from so many years ago. in response, his face flushed red.

“i-i don’t know! i just do, okay?” he huffed as he crossed his arms over his chest and looked away, his freckled cheeks turning an even deeper shade of red when you started to laugh.

on the mentioned day itself, you and Ace exited your cabin for dinner only to find the ship was entirely empty except for Thatch and Izou–with the latter promptly whisking you away the moment he spotted you leaving your room.

after half an hour of waiting in the dining room by himself, wearing a suit that was definitely not his, Ace felt his jaw drop when he saw you enter as Izou shut the door behind you. a light layer of makeup was painted on your face, the amount just enough to accentuate your features without overshadowing your natural beauty. 

when Ace’s eyes trailed down from your face to your body, he realised then it was the first time he’d ever seen you wearing a dress and it was perhaps the most beautiful dress he’d ever seen. although, if he were to be honest with himself, he wasn’t entirely sure if the clothing itself was beautiful or if it was because you had been the one wearing it. 

that evening, for the first time in his life, Ace ate as slowly as possible, working his way through the different courses at a snail’s pace. the food was delicious but seeing your candle lit face smiling at him from across the table satiated a yearning deep in his heart. 

later that night, after you’d long fallen asleep, Ace slipped out from your bed and found Thatch still up, prepping ingredients for the next day. to the older man’s surprise, Ace bowed deeply and thanked him for the meal and for putting a smile on your face that would be engraved into his memory for the rest of time. Thatch simply laughed and said it was no big deal, that he was happy to do it for the both of you. 

Ace ended up staying up that night and you found him later in the morning, sleepily cutting vegetables in the kitchen by Thatch’s side.

iii.

over the months, you and Ace become a force to be reckoned with, making your mark on the seas in your sworn father’s name.

it doesn’t take long for the world to learn that the infamous super rookie Fire Fist Ace was now in Whitebeard’s second division and that wherever he showed up, one person would undoubtedly be by his side.

another Devil Fruit user, surely, the marine cadets would whisper amongst themselves as another charred ship docks at headquarters and out of it pours countless soldiers on stretchers. i hear it’s not Conqueror's Haki,” one would say to another, “it doesn’t matter how hard you try, as long as you hear the command, you can’t fight it.” 

some would believe the rumours while others didn’t, steadfast in their belief that there’s no way the Command-Command Fruit still exists–not when the higher-ups insist it's been permanently destroyed. eventually, though, a handful of the sceptics would find themselves facing Fire Fist and his ally in the flesh and if they live to tell the tale, they’d return to their base and insist the Command-Command Fruit user truly is out there somewhere.

meanwhile, out on the open seas, you and Ace can’t care less about what the marines think of the two of you. all you care about are the little moments you share with him–like sitting in the front of his modified Striker as it speeds across the ocean while your hair catches the salty breeze; or the feeling of his soapy wet hair as you comb your fingers through it whenever you shower together, followed by the sound of his laugh after he shakes his hair dry just because he knows it annoys you.

your favourite moments with Ace are the quiet ones. the ones where you’re all alone and neither of you have anything to say but it doesn’t matter because the silence is so comfortable. you like when he lets his hands wander ever so carefully over your bare skin and underneath your clothes. his face always turns so red and yet he’ll stare into your eyes almost shamelessly, silently asking for permission to do more.

and then the quiet moments will turn not-so quiet as your soft huffs and moans fill the air while his fingers dance their way to places only meant for him to explore. sometimes you swear you can even hear the pounding of his Ace’s heart as he experiments with ways to elicit his favourite reactions from you–the ones where your breath hitches or your hips buck into his hand. 

sometimes he’ll let you return the favour but more often than not he’ll insist he enjoys making you feel good more than anything.

on the nights he gives in to his desires, though, Ace makes noises almost unbecoming of a powerful young man like himself. he’ll hide his face behind his hands or bury it into your blankets, unable to bring himself to openly show his teary eyes and drooling lips until you gently coax him out of his embarrassment.

“it’s okay, pretty boy,” you’ll find yourself saying more often than not as you softly pry his large hands away from his flustered, sweaty face. “don’t hide from me, my love,” you’d coo and he’d choke back a moan, fighting the urge to cover his face again, baring it all for you and only you.

and after all is said and done, Ace will sneak food and drinks into your cabin even if you tell him you’re not hungry but you’ll eat and drink anyway because he stole them all for you. you’d thank him by peppering his freckled face in kisses and dragging him to the shower before he can succumb to his sleepiness. you’d clean each other while chatting under your breaths and laughing at each other’s jokes. then, you’ll go to sleep in each other’s arms and he’ll use your chest as his pillow just like he did the night before.

hours later, the sun will rise and you’ll wake up before Ace does, as you always do, and the day will continue just like it had done yesterday, feeling so similar yet so different at the same time.

the little life you’ve built around your family and Ace is good and you’ve never been happier.

but you soon learn that all good times must come to an inevitable end.

gen taglist: @irethepotato @i-reblog-fics-i-like @grierpilots @appalost @hyper-fic-ation @dressycobra7 @38lyra38 @chaseyui @paraparakiss @krooschl @teewon @olliesoxenfree @misstraffy @riftmage27 @aletch @somatchajade @kitsunechan707 @thesmolestsage @lunaizhere @saint-atlas @goldenpanda16

series taglist: @captainportgasdace @mitskisaveme @graveyardsweethearts @vaniiiavengeance @stuckinmymind22

[geonij31]

Hey Newsies Fandom, LETS TALK LODGING HOUSES (by someone who wrote a 13 page essay on them for a university class)

I’ve recently delved into the world of Newsies Fanfiction and I’ve been going a little crazy over some of the representation of the Lodging House so I thought I’d offer up some FACTS regarding some things I’ve seen. For this I’m going to focus on the N°9 Duane Street Lodging-House.

(If you want a basic idea without doing too much research or reading this post, just go watch the 1992 Newsies, it’s not perfectly accurate but it’s close enough.)

THE LAYOUT: the lodging house itself was 6-7 floors. The first floor was rented out to shops like some apartment buildings.

Floor 2: The second floor consisted of a large dining-room “where nearly two hundred boys can sit down at table” (Campbell et al, 1897, 122), as well as a kitchen, laundry room, store-room, servant’s room and living quarters for the lodging’s superintendent and their family.

Floor 3: The third floor contained the school-room as well as washrooms, leaving the two top floors for the dormitories.

Floor 4-5: Each dormitory was “furnished with from fifty to one hundred beds” (Campbell et al, 1897) with spring mattresses and plenty of comforters. There were also “private rooms” which were squared spaces quartered off by curtains for privacy. These beds, though more expensive, were almost ALWAYS filled.

A couple different sources mention the lodging house having a gymnasium (with a trapeze) but they can’t seem to agree exactly where the gymnasium was. My guess is it was on the 6th floor as mentioned in an article by The Journal. The attic was used as extra space for the winters when the dormitories were full.

COSTS: lodging was 6 CENTS (or 10 for a “private room”) and meals (breakfast and dinner) were the same price. Boys could have as many helpings of a mean as they wanted! Without paying extra! From what I could tell they didn’t serve lunch because the afternoon paper came out around noon and most boys just picked up something while they were out so they wouldn’t miss a prime selling time.

(Don’t forget that most papers cost 1¢ for customers so a newsie would only have to sell 6 papers to stay the night or get a meal)

AMENITIES: THEY. HAD. SHOWERS. They had access to both hot and cold water and free towels. Boys were expected to wash up after entering the lodging house. Also, as mentioned, there was a laundry room. From my understanding it was most often used to clean the sheets of the beds which were used every day, but there were also boys said to be around helping with chores, so I wouldn’t be surprised if they were also able to wash their clothes there when they wanted.

There was also a free clothes ‘closet’ with donated clothing for boys to access. It seemed most boys chose not to make use of it out of pride, but it didn’t go UNUSED. When a kid really needed stuff they would give it to them.

SCHOOLING: boys staying at the lodging house who did not receive a pass to stay out late were expected to attend the night school held there from 7:30-9. During the day the lodging house also held trades classes and other such courses for those who couldn’t attend a full day of school for whatever reason.

There’s so much more but that’s the basics of it and some of the stuff I’ve seen people get wrong (both in fanfics AND here on Tumblr) I’ve added photos from the Lodging house as well as some links of interest for those who want to go do their own research.

Campbell, H., Knox, T. W., & Byrnes, T. (1897). NEW YORK NEWSBOYS-- WHO THEY ARE, WHERE THEY COME FROM, AND HOW THEY LIVE-- THE WAIFS AND STRAYS OF A GREAT CITY. In Darkness and Daylight; or Lights and Shadows of New York Life; A Pictoral Record of Personal Experiences by Day and Night in the Great Metropolis (pp. 111–138). essay, Hartford, Conn. The Hartford Publishing Company. Retrieved November 23, 2024, from https://archive.org/details/darknessdaylight00campuoft/page/137/mode/1up.

^ Chapter IV: NEW YORK NEWSBOYS— WHO THEY ARE, WHERE THEY COME FROM, AND HOW THEY LIVE— THEY WAIFS AND STRAYS OF A GREAT CITY.

Riis, J. A. (1890). How The Other Half Lives. Charles Scribner’s Sons. November 23, 2024, https://www.gutenberg.org/files/45502/45502-h/45502-h.htm#Page_82

^Chapter XVII: The Street Arab

Riis, J. A. (1908). The Children of the Poor. Charles Scribner’s Sons. November 23, 2024, https://www.gutenberg.org/files/32609/32609-h/32609-h.htm#Page_122

^Chapter XIV: The Outcast and the Homeless

Smallest saving bank in the world. (1896, February 16). The Journal, pp. 19–19. Retrieved November 23, 2024, from https://www.loc.gov/resource/sn84031792/1896-02-16/ed-1/?q=Great+Depression&sp=19&st=image&r=-0.421,0.085,1.842,1.398,0.

[tinfoil-jones]

Jerk Ford AU: Silliness V

If you mean Watchdog Ford by @nowimjustastranger, whom is sometimes called "Guard Dog Ford" Those two aren't friends. They just happen to run into each other a statistically impossible amount of times in the multiverse.

Any and all reports that they've saved each other skin at least once, and hang out sometimes are just rumours spread by their mutual ally (ALLY not friend) the Anti-Ford.

If you mean Guard Ford from the AU by @skeptiql... it's their AU, I'm not imposing on it.

If there is a cosmic security guard out there monitoring the Fordverse, considering that all Jerk Ford does in the multiverse is be a total jerk to everyone and cause trouble (and then get banned from dimensions for the two aforementioned reasons), I imagine reactions to him are typically going to be:

He's not heinous, malicious, or evil, he's just a really big jerk for no good reason.

---

Me and @nowimjustastranger are in the process of proper crossover, don't worry.

In the meantime...

Pre-Weirdmageddon:

Jerk Ford: Watch, this is Stanley. Stanley, this is Watchdog Ford and Lee.

Watchdog Ford: ...

Lee: ...

Stan: Well heya pal. It's nice to see Stanford's made more friends! I knew he had it in him to be nice and compassionate.

Jerk Ford: Stanley, I swear to God.

Watchdog Ford:...You're-

Lee: You're tall.

Stan: *looks between Watchdog Ford and Jerk Ford in an exaggerated up-and-down to annoy his brother*

Stan: *to Watchdog Ford* So are you.

Lee: *grinning* Oh, we're going to get along just fine. Let's chat.

---

Watchdog Ford: You... You aren't suffering?

Stan: If you don't call grading two hundred student assignments without assistance suffering, then sure.

Lee: ...nothings wrong?

Stan: Right now, no. I did miss my brother for the thirty years he was gone. It wasn't easy... the townsfolk truly believed I murdered him, and thought that was a good thing. And then acted like I was wrong for missing him.

Lee: So everything went okay for you?

Stan: I don't know what to tell you, pal- excluding not having Stanford in my life for thirty years and the issues that comes with that, things are going fine. If I'm having trouble I can just ask someone for help, and if I have problems emotionally I have friends and family that would lend me an ear or two. Also, I am medicated and seeing a therapist for stuff.

Lee: ...

Meanwhile Jerk Ford is in the corner sipping from his #1 Big Brother mug, and Watchdog Ford gets suspiciously misty eyed.

[Dialogue primarily by @tearosepedall]

---

It's a misconception at that Jerk Ford does not experience empathy (or at least not any for anyone besides his twin brother). This misconception is one of the reasons why The Ford Hate Club is always tripped up by him - they don't understand him. They think he's unfeeling with little to no emotional intelligence.

He has a surprising amount of empathy, you can see in this post he even says that most other Fords do not hate their Stanley, what they really have is resentment.

Jerk Ford just uses that empathy to know how to get under peoples skin and really hurt their feelings. Can't hurt feelings very well if you don't know what they are or how they work!

What he does lack is compassion, as in he doesn't help, support, or uplift people. That's a Stanley thing.

---

Jerk Ford: Your attack misses.

Dipper: Misses?! With my bonuses I had a total of twenty-three to hit!

Jerk Ford: That doesn't even touch the monsters THAC0.

Dipper: THAC0? Great Uncle Ford, 3.5 Edition is over! It's armour class now!

Jerk Ford: I'm the DM, and I rule your attack misses.

Dipper: *flips the battlemap, forgetting that the infinity dice is there*

---

Jerk Ford had such a bad habit of getting engrossed into his research and study that he would overlook things like finances (and showering). Stanley managed the finances between himself and and his brother, and he did send money back to the family, not millions but it was something.

Jerk Ford also had most of the money because he had his grant, and also a few patents, but Jerk Ford only cared about anamolies and terrorizing humanity so money wasn't something he thought about very much as long as their basic needs were being met.

When he lived back in Glass Shard Beach with his family, however...

"We should go graffiti Pines Pawns."

"Hell no, dude."

"What, you scared of Old Man Pines?"

"Forget Old Man Pines, don't know know what his son did to Crampelter? We don't need to be on his sh*t list."

[alastxrs]

Would You Fall In Love With Me Again?

Gojo Satoru X Male!Reader

Gojo Satoru, the King of Ithica had been away from his home for twenty long years. Until finally, he arrived home and his first thought is his family after...(EPIC THE MUSICAL AU)

Twenty Years.

Twenty long years for him to return to Ithica only to see unwanted guests planning to hurt his son and his husband.

Satoru Gojo made examples out of them.

Nobody was going to get away with plotting to kill and hurt his family. He had been gone for so long, there was no doubt they had been planning to hurt his family for so many years.

They wouldn't dare anymore now that he was back.

"Father?"

"Son..."

The white-haired man slowly turned around to see his son, Yuji standing before him.

His son.

Yuji was grown now and stood proud before him, a small smile formed on his lips as he took in his son. He missed his whole life but he wouldn't miss anymore now.

"My son, I'm finally home!"

Home, home....

Satoru managed to have his arms out before his son almost tackled him into a hug, this moment meant the world to the two of them.

The young man couldn't believe that he was with his father at long last. "Father, how I've longed to see you!"

Home, home....

This moment could go on for hours and they had all the time in the world to catch up yet it was time for him to see his beloved.

He pulled away from the younger man as a soft smile filled their faces. "Go, tell your dad I'm home, I'll be there in a moment of course.." The pink-haired man nodded as he pulled away from his father before he went to tell Y/N that his husband was home.

The man quickly fixed his hair because he wanted to make himself look SOMEWHAT nice for his beloved husband.

Make his hair look decent at least.

Shit, he had blood on his hands.

He was finally home.

His time on that dreadful island with that dreadful God was something he would be glad to forget about.

"Father? He's waiting for you."

Satoru turned to his son before he walked past him to their bedroom door, he took a deep sigh. "Y/N..." he muttered before he opened the doors to see his beloved husband.

There, stood the most beautiful man he had ever laid eyes on.

His (E/C) eyes stared at him with disbelief that his husband was home. "Is it you? Have my prayers been answered?" He spoke softly as he approached Satoru slowly. "Is it really you standing there, or am I dreaming once more?"

"You look different," His lover tilted his head as he looked at him up and down. "Your eyes look tired..."

A small frown on his beautiful partner's lips as he looked at his appearance. "Your frame is lighter...." His eyes went to his lips. "...Your smile torn.."

"Is it really you, my love?"

The white-haired male sighed in relief when he felt the gentle touch of his lover's hand on his cheek, Y/N's touch always relaxed him. "I am not the man you fell in love with..." he responded, he placed his own hand on top of Y/N's hand. "....I am not the man you once adored."

The two knew what he was saying was a lie but it is what he thought.

"I am not your kind and gentle husband.." Satoru said as he pulled back slowly from the touch as he backed up. "And I am not the love you knew before.

Their eyes never looked away from his each other.

"Would you fall in love with me again if you knew all I've done?" He asked his lover with a pained expression on his face. "The things I cannot change, would you love me all the same? I know that you've been waiting, waiting for love."

The (H/C) haired male was quiet for a moment before he asked. "What kind of things did you do?" Satoru looked down as he looked at his own hands.

"Left a trail of red on every island as I traded friends like objects I could use..." He answered before he looked back at him. "hurt more lives than I can count on my hands but all of that was to bring me back to you!"

"So tell me, would you fall in love with me again if you knew all I've done?" He asked again. "The things I can't undo, I am not the man you knew! I know that you've been waiting, waiting..."

Y/N didn't believe what his lover was telling him, he was a man of Sparta.

He sighed as he kept a hand to his chest. "If that's true, could you do me a favor?" The (H/C) haired male kept his eyes on him, afraid if he looked away that his husband would disappear again. "Just a moment of labor that would bring me some peace."

The taller male nodded his head. "Of course!"

Y/N gestured over to their bed. "See that wedding bed? Could you carry it over?" he asked, he knew this was impossible for any man to do. "Lift it high on your shoulders and take it far away from here."

"....How could you say this?"

The feeling in the white-haired males chest ached with pain at the mere thought of his husband wanting him to remove their wedding bed. "I had built that wedding bed with my blood and sweat, carved it into the olive tree where we first met!" He made his way over to their bed though as he looked at it with a pained expression. "A symbol of our love everlasting..."

He turned his head over to the smaller male. "Do you realize what you have asked?" he asked his partner. "The only way to move it is to cut it from it's roots!"

"Only my husband knew that, so I guess that makes it you!"

A surprised expression formed on his face as he stared at the other man.

"Y/n..."

A serious expression laid on his beautiful face as he glared a Satoru. "I will fall in love with you over and over again!" he stated as he pointed to him. "I don't care how, where, or when! No matter how long it's been, your mine!"

"Don't tell me you're not the same person." Y/N's fist clenched into first as he stepped closer to the other man. "You're always my husband and I've been waiting, waiting..."

Y/N, waiting, waiting (Y/N)

WAITING, WAITING

"Waiting, oh!" Y/N gently caressed his cheek as he looked at his husband with a small smile on his face. "For.....you-"

The two men leaned forward as their lips pressed against each other.

The two stayed pressed against one another as they let their emotions take over, it was perfect after so long the two had been apart.

Clothes started getting removed as the two moved on top of their bed, the (H/C) haired male pinned his husband against the bed as their clothes disappeared onto the floor.

They didn't know how long they had been in bed for yet the two men wanted to be with each other, they were definitely going to be attached to the hip.

The lovers were happy to finally lay in bed together once again.

After a while, the two laid in bed and Satoru buried his face in his neck as they stayed quiet for a few more minutes just to bask in each other's warmth.

"How long has it been?"

"Twenty years..."

Y/N and Satoru looked at each other again with a soft expression resting on their tired faces.

"I love you." Both men whispered as they kissed again.

EXTRA CONTENT

"How dare you think I wouldn't love you!!" Y/N lectured his husband as he scoffed while drying the white-haired males hair, the two had finished taking a bath (and having anothter steamy session). "I'm a man of Sparta, did you forget that?! I swear being off at sea for twenty years has made you stupid."

Satoru chuckled as he smiled while his lover took care of him, the (H/C) haired male had been gentle with every scar he had.

"I'm sorry it's been years! I thought you wouldn't like-"

"I don't care what you thought!! Hearing you slaughter all those men was attractive, I thought it was attractive!! Not disgusting!!"

Y/N muttered something under his breathe about how he had an idiot for a husband.

"Your humor has gotten worse hasn't it..."

"I have so much jokes to tell! I need to catch up!"

The smaller male sighed with an irritated expression. "You are lucky I am madly in love with you or I swear, you would be joining those suitors at the bottom of the sea."

Satoru smiled brightly as the other man leaned down to kiss him.

It was good to be back.

[teyrnacousland]

Hi I have even more to say about Lucanis being Caterina's second chance

I know someone else (Jules I think?) mentioned that Caterina was possibly... not soft, but softer, with her own children. That she got worse when she lost everything, because her less strict ways clearly failed and the solution was to be tougher on them. And I've said before I imagine her life before that loss was livelier, and warmer. The harshness and competition and torturous training was all still there, but their lives were so full outside of that.

But none of that warmth and life came from her. I think when the main sources of it left, the warmth drained out of her too. Like the moon losing its light during an eclipse. She doesn't see herself as someone who can be warm and loving. She doesn't know how to be that.

But Lucanis does. Lucanis has that light. Lucanis is bright, and warm, and loving. Lucanis is the one who can breathe life back into House Dellamorte (or he'll take his light and leave, but maybe that's better than losing it and becoming cold and empty like she did).

And I think she thinks it's too late for her. The person she is now couldn't fit back into the life she once knew. This sharp, broken person she is now doesn't fit into the past she lost, or the future she doesn't know how to hope for.

And I'm imagining someday Rook and Lucanis organizing and hosting their own big dinner event, and they invite the whole Veilguard, and Illario, and Caterina. And she stands on the sidelines and watches Lucanis with this lively bunch, sees him smile warmly at Rook and them smiling back, hears Villa Dellamorte light up with laughter for the first time in years. And it's not her family, it'll never be hers. But she gets to see Lucanis and Illario have something like what she lost, the things she never found a way to share with them.

Not to be a musical fan on this here Dragon Age blog, but this part from the Epic the Musical song 'I Can't Help But Wonder' keeps playing in my head as she watches them: "What if there's a world where we don't have to live this way?" // "If that world exists, it's far away from here. It's one I'll have to miss, for it's far beyond my years."

I keep thinking about the tragedy of not just the Dellamortes we know and love, but all the others too. Caterina's five children and the six other grandchildren. I think it's implied that Lucanis' parents were killed first, right? House Velardo sent Lucanis' mother's ring back to Caterina to demand she surrender, and when she didn't they started the war that took the rest of Caterina's children too. Did Caterina's children support her risking their lives, and their own children's lives, in her bid for power? Did they have to watch their siblings fall off one by one, with those remaining mourning each sibling while knowing the message of this murder was that they, and their families, could be next? Or did Caterina (and Illario and Lucanis) just wake up one day as the only survivors? Did any of her children ever ask her to stop, or try to run away? Where were Illario and Lucanis when their families died? How did they end up as the only two survivors? How old were they? Old enough to understand what was happening, or not? Which is worse? There are no good answers to any of these questions and I am now miserable.

[kayrma]

See You At the Next Stop

Lily Evans meets a posh-looking bloke with messy hair on the way back to London, and for once in her life she actually enjoys a train ride. Maybe having a spontaneous seat partner isn't that bad after all.

Read on AO3 (2.9k words)

happy birthday, lily evans-potter! didn't have enough time to finish my punk!lily fic but i realized i never actually posted this fic from two years ago to tumblr so this is my contribution for today <3

Lily stared down the document in front of her, willing her brain to start writing words again. She had been on the train for nearly two hours now, travelling from Edinburgh to London. Visiting home had been yet another disaster, with Petunia continuing to judge Lily for moving to London after school and finding an inner-city job.  Her sister liked to say that Lily was wasting her money trying to live on her own (which was a lie, Lily had a lovely roommate named Mary), and that she’d be better off staying home and finding a husband. Sometimes, Lily thought Petunia was stuck in the nineteenth century, but she blamed most of that on her horrendous boyfriend Vernon, who worked for a drilling company or something else of the sort – it seemed far too boring to keep track of. 

Really, Lily had only gone home to visit their mum, following the two-year anniversary of her father’s death. His death had hit their family hard, despite them all knowing it was coming. Her father had suffered from cancer in his final years, but it still hurt knowing he was gone. Mr. Evans was Lily’s biggest supporter, encouraging her to attend Cambridge despite the monetary toll it would put on their family. He had helped her search for scholarships, and she ended up going to university for much lower than she ever could have expected without her father’s help. He was the one who helped her move to London, being there to help her move into her tiny flat despite him slowly growing weaker. She missed him every day, and she missed her mum, but she needed to be back in the city for work tomorrow.

Snapping out of her painful memories, Lily looked back at the half-empty document, with only a title and an introduction on it, not even in Times New Roman yet. She switched the font, the Arial irritating her, and leaned back into her seat. Even though she was on the high-speed rail, the train ride had felt impossibly long. She was seated next to some messy-haired Indian bloke, his glasses on top of his head and earbuds plugged in as he typed away on his own laptop. The man was gorgeous, to say the least, especially since he had unbuttoned the top collar of his dress shirt, and was wearing Converse with his slacks. Really, she couldn’t not admire him. Lily had a personal policy of not sitting next to men if she could avoid it, but he looked around her age and seemed relatively unassuming when he got on at Newcastle about an hour after her, and Lily found herself unable to say no. A part of Lily had wanted to ask him for his name, to know more about him, but he seemed to be a little bit of a mess as he got on the train. All he offered her was an apologetic smile as he struggled to shove his duffel into the overhead compartment as the train started moving. She smiled back at him, perhaps a little too eagerly in comparison to his semi-grimace. He had rolled up his sleeves as he sat down, and what was Lily supposed to do but stare at his well-defined tan forearms? He probably worked in some posh company, considering his attire (not that Lily could judge, she was still wearing business casual as well). Any time she peeked over at his laptop, he was typing furiously into some form of sheets that she truly could not decipher no matter how much she wanted to try. Looking away from him and turning her attention back to her own laptop, her brain felt like it was about to melt. 

Deciding to take a break, Lily closed her laptop, ridding her mind of thoughts about her struggling article. She pulled out her phone, and seeing that her plan was about to run out for the month, she started to play some silly game that didn’t require any data. At that moment, the messy-haired bloke looked over, saying “Oh, I love that game!”

He had said it extremely loud, presumably because he was blasting music in his earbuds, but Lily laughed and turned towards him.

“Really? All my mates make fun of me for playing it – what level are you on?”

“Oh, don’t worry, my mates do the same. They say it’s because I still act like a ‘bloody child’ but I think I just enjoy a bit of mindless fun, y’know?”

Lily nodded, glad to see that she had something in common with the gorgeous bloke. He hadn’t told her what level he was on, but his smile and enthusiasm more than made up for it.

“Regardless, I’ll let you get back to the game, this project might be the death of me.”

She slumped back as gracefully as she could, disappointed that he was busy, but she shot him another smile and went back to playing her silly little game. After exhausting her thumbs, she genuinely felt like she had lost brain cells, choosing to just put away her phone and relax with some music. Putting her head against the seat, she closed her eyes and tried to stop thinking entirely. However, no matter how much she tried to empty her mind, the bloke next to her kept popping into her mind. She ended up just embracing it, allowing her mind to fill with thoughts of who he could possibly be as she felt herself drifting off into sleep. 

Lily had no idea when she woke up, but she felt an impossible crick in her neck as she opened up her eyes. Quickly checking her watch for the time, she realized she had only been asleep for a little over half an hour, and sighed in relief – she’d still have time to try and work on her article again. However, as she tried to get up, she realized there was a weight on top of her head. Glancing upwards, she realized she had fallen asleep on the bloke’s shoulder, and he was leaning back on top of her head as his hands were stilled on his laptop. His shoulders were sturdy and broad, and Lily thought that she wouldn’t mind staying there forever. Not wanting to disturb him as he seemed utterly relaxed, Lily stayed put, hoping he’d wake up soon. 

After a few minutes (that felt like a lovely forever), his head lifted off of hers, and she took the opportunity to escape. Before she could even look at him, she heard the sound of his neck cracking as he stretched it, and Lily’s jaw dropped wide open. 

“That sounded like it hurt,” she commented discreetly, hoping he wouldn’t take it the wrong way. 

He smiled at her, glasses almost slipping off his nose now, rather than tangled in his messy hair. Shaking his head, he said “I always do it to wake myself up, it feels rather good actually.” The bloke proceeded to crack each one of his knuckles, and then his wrist. Lily grimaced at the noise, but couldn’t help herself from laughing. She figured she should probably apologize to him for falling asleep on him, even though she didn’t know how she ended up on his shoulder. 

“I’m Lily, by the way. Sorry I fell asleep on you. I’ve been working on an article and my brain genuinely felt like it might have melted if I hadn’t taken a break.”

“No worries Lily, it’s lovely to meet you,” he stuck out his hand, “Potter. James Potter.”

“Bond-like, are we?” Lily took his hand and gave him a firm handshake, trying to put on as serious of a face as she could in order to mirror his own expression. 

“Of course, milady Evans. What takes you to London this fine weekend?”

“Why Mr. Potter, I’m heading back to work. I visited my mum in Edinburgh, and I’ve got a roommate and a flat and a job to get back to tomorrow.”

“Is that so?” James flashed a smirk that would have brought her to her knees if she hadn’t already been sitting down. “Well Evans, I’ve just done the same, except that I visited my mum and dad in Newcastle, and am heading back to the flat I share with my brother and our friends, and a job as well.”

Lily giggled, of all things, and looked down to realize that their hands were still intertwined from when he had reached out to shake them. She dropped it before she could get too flustered, and tried not to notice the disappointed look on James’ face. 

“Right then, Potter, where do you work? I’d bet it’s somewhere posh, with the clothing you’re wearing and those sheets you were typing away on.”

Clearly surprised she had noticed, James’ quick reaction gave away that she seemed to have gotten everything right.

“Stalking me already Evans? And then falling asleep on me? Have you got some sort of ploy going on here, an evil scheme or whatnot?”

“Oh of course, I’m a journalist for The Daily Prophet, you see, and you’re the subject of my next story. James Potter: The Posh Bloke with Messy Hair and Unfinished Work.”

James let out a loud laugh at that, startling the other people in the full cabin. They all seemed to glare at him, despite his laugh being perfectly beautiful in her opinion.  He raised a thick eyebrow, questioning her with just that one expression.

“Alright, well you’re not the subject of my next article Potter, sorry to disappoint. But I do really work for The Daily Prophet, and I’m afraid I’m the one with unfinished work seeing as my article’s barely hit a page yet.”

“And you’re sure it can’t be about me? My messy hair just won’t do for The Prophet?”

“Afraid not, sorry, unless you’ve got a secret as to how you manage to keep it that messy. You’ve run your hands through it more than I can count in just the time we’ve been talking, and it’s not shown a single sign of being tamed.”

“Well Evans, I suppose I’ll let you in on a secret then.” He leaned in close to her, his lips almost brushing her ear as his breath made her shudder. “My dad’s actually the creator of Sleakeazy’s Hair Products, and I refuse to use it out of principle.”

Lily’s head snapped around so quickly it nearly gave her whiplash. She looked at James with an incredulous look on her face – there was no way he was telling the truth. But his face looked so earnest, completely devoid of his teasing demeanor, and Lily ended up just staring at him in bafflement. He snickered as she continued to stare him down, and his hands went right back up to muss up his hair.

“Yeah, I know. My brother ended up with the good hair genes, considering Sleakeazy’s has never really been able to do much for me anyways. Well, he’s not really my brother, we took him in after he ran away from his shitty family, but he’s my brother in everything but blood.”

James seemed like he was about to continue rambling, almost like his mouth was moving quicker than his brain. Lily reached out to put her hand on his wrist, but whether she did it to calm him down or for her own benefit, she didn’t quite know. 

“That’s really sweet of you and your family, James,” she gave him a small smile, “You’re clearly of the good sort. Maybe I will write my article about you after all. James Potter: A Bloke with Messy Hair and a Penchant for Being a Good Person.”

“All that from a bit of rambling, eh, Evans?” He was evidently smug, happy with the perception he’d given of himself. Something about his smirk made Lily want to wipe it clean off his face with a kiss, but it was far too early and far too public of an area to do that. Instead, she humored him with a laugh, and pulled her laptop out of her bag. 

Opening a new document, she enlarged the font into the awful old-Gothic newspaper style that came preloaded, and wrote up all the silly titles she’d come up with today. James reached for it slowly, wordlessly asking permission to take her laptop. She nodded and passed it to him, curious to see what he’d possibly type. He deleted all the words she’d put in, and changed the font to fucking Lobster, of all things, and then turned the laptop away from her. James seemed to be taking his time to think about what he was about to type, mussing up his hair yet again. After a minute or so of anticipation, he turned the laptop back to her, and it read: “James Potter: A Bloke with Messy Hair Who’d Like to Take One Lily Evans on a Date.”

Lily gave him what might have been the goofiest grin of all time, snatched back her laptop, changed the font to a respectable Times, enlarged it, and wrote in “Yes” so that it would fill up the page. James smiled back at her with the same reckless abandon, and leaned over to hold her hand. And then the computer nearly slipped off her lap.

They both reached for it, knocking heads in the process, but managed to save it from a horrific death on the train (she was a journalist, she needed to make use of her sensationalizing skills sometimes), and they both started laughing. They kept going even as she quickly put her laptop back in its bag. The passengers around them were definitely staring at them with irritation now, but that meant nothing to her if it meant seeing James’ smile. She leaned back into him and grabbed his hand to hold it properly this time, looking up at him like she could ravish him right there. He stared back at her with the same dark look in her eyes, and kissed her forehead and her nose. 

God, this boy and his ability to make her giggle. She whispered, “If you’d like to kiss me, you can just do it, y’know?”

He leaned in for a chaste kiss, “Right, but if I kissed you like I wanted to right now, we’d probably get a complaint for public indecency. Besides, it’s just another half hour to London, and my flat’s not too far from the station.” And then he winked at her. Lily gaped at him with an open mouth, and James pushed it back closed after a beat, saying “Don’t catch any flies in there, love.” Truly, James Potter was an enigma she could write an article on. 

“Well, I suppose I’ll get back to writing my article then. It seems I might be busy after we get off this train.” 

James stared her down as she pulled her laptop back out of its back, tied up her hair, and for extra flair, picked his glasses off his head and put them on. 

“Fuck, nevermind, you’re blind as a bat, Potter,” Lily blinked furiously, and shoved them back onto his face. James ruffled his hair (of course he did), and reopened his own work. Before he started working though, he reached over and pulled her closer to him, so much so that she was nearly on his lap, and then took his arm right back away once she was squished into him. Embracing the position, Lily opened a new document, abandoning the pages she had previously written, deciding that her next article would just have to be about something more lighthearted than the current foreign affairs of the UK government; her boss Minerva could probably appreciate some good news anyway. Pulling up the notes of an old interview she had done. Finally finding a rhythm as she typed away, Lily was startled by the “London, next stop!” that blared over the train’s PA system. She glanced over at James, who seemed just as rattled, and they both put their things away in unison. As everyone else on the trains stood from their seats to take their luggage, James immediately bumped his head as he got up.

“Bloody hell, these have no right being so low,” He grumbled as he stretched out and reached for his duffel.

“Sure you won’t need help with your bag this time, Potter?” Lily felt the need to tease him, just to humble him with her first impression of him from when he boarded the train. As if to prove a point, James swiped her bag off the overhead carry bin as well, and held on to both of them as the cabin started to clear out. Lily did a final check of their seats, and lightly jogged to follow him out.

“Well Potter, I recall you saying your flat wasn’t too far from the station. Are you planning on making good on that?”

“Of course Evans, what kind of man do you take me for? I’ll have you know I don’t put out on the first date though, I’ll be making you food since my flat’s got a stellar kitchen.” She raised an eyebrow at him, willing him to continue, because she wanted to know what he could possibly be making for her. “My mum’s aloo tikki recipe, I think you’ll like it.”

“This feels like a dig at me for being half-Irish, but I never mentioned that, so I’ll accept it. I look forward to seeing your cooking skills since you’ve got the sort of hair that would catch on fire in a kitchen.”

James gave her that stunning smile again, and grabbed her hand as they walked out of the station, and on the way to his flat. Lily had a good feeling about this bloke with messy hair and enough charm to create a whole new world.

[cxrsed-angel]

epistolae|marcus x fem!reader

summary: After two months of not hearing back from your husband while he's fighting a war, you worry about him and fear that he he may not be coming back to you alive, you re-read his previous letters as an attempt to calm your anxieties.

w.c: 3k

warning: angst, allusion to oral (f!receiving), brief mentions of pregnancy/postpartum, badly translated latin forgive me I stayed up so late using 4 different translators lol

a/n: this is my first time writing for acacius/ non Joel fic and this is also for @jolapeno's dear-uary challenge, my prompt was: A times capsule of letters written at different stages of life, predicting or confronting the future. I hope I did it justice and it makes sense also I made canva letter graphics for fun but I know they're difficult to read the letters are also included in the fic like normally I just wanted to something different and fun. <3

It’s going on two months since you last received a letter from your husband. Weeks of trying your best not to think of the worst, but it gets harder as each day without a letter passes. He usually responds to your letters sooner. It had been almost a month since he'd been away fighting for more land yet again. You wrote to him a few days ago but still haven’t heard anything back, which worries you. For the two years you had been husband and wife, he wrote back consistently, never going more than a few days without a response. The longest it had been was three weeks at most, but now it's going on to next month, and still nothing. Two months have passed since he had left you, and your concern grows that he is injured…or worse. That this may be the time that he does not come back home to you. 

You remember the first time he had to leave after you married. It was only a week after the emperors sent him away to fight and conquer more land for them. You leave your bed and go to the desk in your room, where you write your letters to your husband and store the ones he writes to you. You open the drawer, flipping through them to find the first one he sent. At the bottom of the stack, you open the envelope, re-reading it like you've done what seems like hundreds of times. You hold the paper, reading it yet again. 

“My carissima uxor, my carissima amor, 

I know this will be our first time being separated from each other since we’ve married. I know it must be harder for you. I am used to being away, but I can only imagine how empty our room and our bed must feel for you. But I do not want you to be alone, isolated in my leave, missing me. You should perhaps read new books, maybe garden, or speak with the other ladies. It will be more bearable if you occupy your time by keeping busy. I know it is hard. I will not say that it gets easier, for it does not, but it can be tolerable. I miss you terribly, but I will return home to you shortly. I love you.”

 ~ M

You hold the letter, remembering how alone you had felt those first few days he had left. You were not from Rome and did not have any family here, and you only spoke to Marcus primarily after your wedding, so when he left, you had no one to talk to. The first day, you did wallow away in bed, isolating yourself. The emperor's palace you resided in felt massive and empty without Acacius walking the halls with you and helping you around. But once you received his letter and took his suggestion, it did help. You started drawing, attending different activities and plays to distract yourself, and it did help some. But you still missed him deeply, especially at night. You miss laying in his arms, feeling his hands caressing you, rubbing your back as you fall asleep. You miss the rare times you would wake up before him and could admire his sleeping form, admire how gorgeous and peaceful he looked while he rested, but he was right that it eventually became more bearable.

You flip through the other letters you had received from him, reminiscing, thinking about him. You open another and see the date.  It was a little after a year since you've married Acacius. At this point you had gotten more comfortable with your husband being away. You still missed him greatly but had found ways to make it more manageable, and receiving his letter such as this one helped you feel connected and close to him while he was miles away. You remember he had sent the letter was when he had been sent to speak to the general of Galli to prevent sending his men to another war, but he hated it when he was forced to play politician. He sent you countless letters during the duration of this trip. It felt nice to get them more often. It was a little after a year since you've married Acacius. At this point you had gotten more comfortable with your husband being away. You still missed him greatly but had found ways to make it more manageable, and receiving his letter such as this one helped you feel connected and close to him while he was miles away.  It eased your mind knowing that he may be miserable, but he was safe and had the luxuries of a bed and a bath provided to him by his accommodations. You pick one envelope from the pile opening it to read.

“Carissima, 

I am most miserable here, my accommodations are pleasant but it is not our bed or our room, it lacks your presence. I miss sleeping next to you, having breakfast with you, and seeing your new drawings or paintings of the courtyard. I am forced to play with politics, which is not my strong suit. I have attended meetings during the day, parties at night, and talked with numerous people. I am tired deliciae. But if it prevents another senseless war, then it is worth it. I enjoyed your letters, and reading about your days, and the small drawing of our garden you sent of me was beautiful, a pleasant reminder of home. Your drawing is improving much. I wish you were here with me, little dove, you'd make it much more manageable, fun even. I leave for Rome the day after next and should be home with you soon. Te amor.”

~M

You smile, remembering when he returned from his trip and brought you many gifts from Galli. Necklaces, bracelets, and rings, fragrances, and paintings. You've told him numerous times that he didn't need to bring back so much, but of course, he never listens. You fold the letter inside its envelope and return it to the others. It's late, nearing midnight, and you aren't tired but have nothing else to do to preoccupy yourself, so you decide to lie in bed. You close the desk drawers with the letters in it, then prepare for bed. Changing into a tinner tunic dress to sleep you.  

You lay in your bed, the gold silk covering your body as you rest your head against the comfortable pillow filled with soft feathers and covered in white silk, trying to fall asleep. Instead, you toss and turn, looking at the empty side of the bed. You reach out gently, rubbing the empty linens, feeling the absence of your husband. It was, as always, the most challenging at night, lying in the room’s silence and feeling how empty and alone your bed was without him. You close your eyes, praying to the gods that he’ll return soon, healthily, and safely back to you.  

The next day, you're cleaning yours and Marcus's chambers, stress cleaning if you’re being honest. You knew that you’re not supposed to clean that you were supposed to let the miad and the help do it, but you couldnt. You didnt want to go out there with the ladies of the court, you could handle their gossping or fake a smile at the insipid conversations about dress colors or who they fucked that week. Cleaning was at least a doable distraction. Scrubbing the floors provides a way of preoccupying your mind. After washing the floors, you move onto your books and Marcus’s papers around the desk. Deciding to organize your books, large piles of books surround you as you sit on the floor, legs crossed, putting the books into groups. 

  You’re interrupted by a knock on your door. You know it can't be your beloved returning because he would be greeted with a warm and loud welcome back to Rome, along with a party hosted by the emperors which he would have preferred to spead the evening alone with you. Because you knew it wasnt him you couldn’t bother looking up from the books when responding. 

“Yes? Come in.” One of the housemaids enters your room while you organize your book selection. 

“Mrs. Acacius, you have received a letter from the military.” The second you hear the word military come out of her mouth, you’re standing, stepping over the piles of books, nearly tripping over the pile of books on the floor as you rush to her looking at the letter. 

“Yes, um I’ll take it. Thank you very much.” You give her a small smile as she leaves, and you close the door behind her before looking down at the envelope and seeing the familiar Roman Empire seal on it. You slowly rub it, feeling your heart beat out of your chest. You couldn’t wait to see what your husband had written without bothering with a letter opener. Excited at the though that he had finally responded to you. Eagerly you tear the paper with your finger, tossing the envelope onto the floor. 

 As you open it, unfolding the letter expecting to see the comforting penmanship of your love, but you don't. Instead, you’re greeted with unfamiliar penmanship, its very obviously not Marcus’ handwriting, and your heart sinks, dropping to the pit of your stomach as you grip the paper tighter. You anxiously glaze over the letter, looking at the unknown penmanship, confused. Immediately, you start thinking of what could've happened to him, where he couldn’t write to you himself. Your hand feels clamming and sweating, but you try to calm your breath as best you can, which wasn't much considering it was still rapid. After a few seconds of analyzing the handwriting, you finally read it. Seeing the top of the letter is greeted with your name instead of one of the nicknames Marcus has given you. The sight of your name feels cold, a heartless greeting, unlike the warmth you were used to when receiving Marcus's letter. You feel your stomach starting to twist, but you start reading. 

“Ad uxorem Acacius, 

This is Tiberius. I am writing to you because your husband wished for me to inform you of his condition. General Acacius fell ill shortly after claiming the land we sought. He has been resting and unable to write at the time. The general also endured a slight wound in battle but is healing well. We leave to return to Rome tomorrow. 

General Acacius was too tired, and weak to write, told me to write, that he apologizes for the lack of letters and that he will be home shortly. 

Tiberius.”

You hadn’t realized you were crying until you felt a tear drop onto the letter. You re-read it for what feels like a hundred times wishing there was more. Your hands are still shaky as you set the letter on the desk. You take a deep breath before going to your bed to sit. You try to calm your mind and reassure yourself that your worst fears haven’t come true. He was just ill and slightly wounded, but he was still coming home to you. You knew Tiberius was his second in command, and if something had gone seriously wrong, you would’ve been notified. Yet thet didnt ease your worries. You hope he hadn’t pushed himself too far to the point that he had gotten sick. Damn, those emperors and their incessant greed for land to control yet could not retrieve themselves. They can’t even manage the land they have already claimed. Unrest and turmoil fill the streets of Rome and have only worsened since you arrived. 

You crumple the paper, tossing it onto the floor before  lying back on the bed. You can't help but let the tears fall. A mixture of frustration and worry fills your brain, and you can't hold it in anymore. You stare up at the painted ceiling, wishing he could just appear in bed next to you, wishing you could be there for him, wishing you could see the state he was in. Wishing you could nurse your husband back to health yourself. The letter was vague and undescriptive, and it gave you no details about him at all. How ill was he? How injured was he? How bad was it that he couldn’t have written you himself? What kind of injury was it? A million questions flood your mind as you cry. All you wanted was your husband back in your arms. You missed him so much, and the month worth of emotions you’ve held in had reached the point had finally overfilled and you couldnt hold it in any longer. You turn in the empty bed that suddenly feels to big, and cry into the linens. You let yourself cry for as long as you feel like. It feels like hours of crying holding onto his pillow taking in the faint smell of your husband that lingered on the pillow.

After a few hours, when it felt like you have cried all the tears your body could make you get out of bed. You stand up quietly, deciding to put the books on the floor away, trying your best to do different activities the rest of the day to distract yourself, but you can not. Marcus’ state and health remain on your mind constantly. 

Later at night, you quietly look out the window staring as your mind wander, you decided to eat dinner alone tonight instead of joining most of the court in the dining hall, you could’nt stand being near the emperors hearing them cheer, laugh, drink, ignorant and careless to the effects their greed for control and land has. If you were in the dining hall you fear you would have hurled a knife at one of them which would get you killed, so your room was the best option. 

After finishing your dinner you, decide to draw yourself a bath, you grab some oils your husband had been gifted over the time of being General. Pouring olive oil, lavender oil, rose oil into the tub before getting into the hot water. The candles lit around the bathroom calmed your as you lean back against the tub closing your eyes. Once again thinking of Marcus, missing him, wishing he was in the tub with you. Your back resting against his his chest, sitting between his legs as he massages you. You open your eyes as if he would appear in front of you in the bath, when they opened. Of course though he doesnt. After your bath you dry yourself off with a towel and blowing out the candles in your bathroom and bedroom, getting to go to bed. You knew it would be hard to fall asleep as it as been for months. You lay in bed in one of your night gowns, sleeping just in your panties felt more comfortable. You close your eyes.

“Please. Please come home, safe, alive. Please Marcus.” You pray a similar prayer you had prayed everynight since he hadnt replied to your letters.  

You're deep asleep, clinging onto the pillow, imagining it was your beloved sleeping next to you.  The creaking of the big door to your bedroom opens slowly, causing you to stir awake. The noise startled You sit up confused, seeing someone walk in but unable to make them out in the darkness, which scared you. No one ever enters without asking or after you had asked so you were greatly confused. You thought this was it, they had woken you up to tell you that you husband had passed, died out in war. You sigh taking a breath before grabbing your robe that laid on a nearby chaise putting it on as you stand up. 

“Hello?” you call out, but immediately, once you see the figure in the shadow, you see a tall, board-framed frame his curls messily above his head, that you know who it is immediately. You can not mistake who it is. 

“Carissima…sorry to wake you.” Marcus’s deep raspy voice instantly responds, gaining your attention. You go over to your nightstand stand, lighting a candle. When you turn around, your husband's face is illuminated, his brown eyes evident with exhaustion. You look at him, and he looks sick and weak. You've never seen him look this tired. You go up to him as he grabs your hands, holding them in his larger hands, as tears start to slip down your face, you couldn’t believe he was home but you were also worried about his state and how bad his injuries were. 

“They…they told me you were sick? And injured? And I didn’t hear from you for weeks…I-I was so worried. What….what happened? Where are you injured?” you ask, assessing him, trying to find evidence of wounds, bruises, broken limbs, anything. He looks at you, softly kissing your forehead before pulling you against his chest and wrapping his arms around you in a warm, comforting embrace. Your cheek presses against the linens that wears under his armor, taking in his consolingpresence. His arms instantly provide a sense of home and peace you haven't felt since he left.

 “I am fine, Carmissisa. It was a simple cold, and my bad knees… it was a small pain, both of them combined did not provide optimal traveling conditions, my love.” He wipes the tears away with his thumb, holding your face softly. 

“I missed you, Marcus. When you didn’t write back, I-I thought I lost you.” The tears continue to fall, and he shakes his head before kissing the top of your head and looks at you warmly, reassuring you that he is here and safe. 

“I said I’d always return home to you. I promised you and intend to keep that promise dulicissima. I am sorry to have worried you, my love. ” He rubs your waist softly before his hand reaches your chin, pulling your lips onto his. Your eyes close, melting against him. His arms move closer to his chest as his arms move down to your waist. Your heart slows, finally feeling at ease and peace, feeling the familiar sensation of his lips. You lightly flick his bottom lips with your tongue, asking for more, and he obliges, deepening the kiss you press against him wanting to be closer to him, as close as you can be after months of being away from him. You notice him pulling away first, panting slightly, breathing heavily. He gently guiding you backward towards the bed until you feel it on the back of your legs. You get on the bed, laying back, watching Marcus kiss up your thighs, pushing the fabric of your tunic up around your hips. 

His hands move up your thighs as he lays in between your legs. His noses presses against your legs as he kisses up your legs, to your thighs, up your hips. 

 His kisses move up towards your inner thigh, his thumbs ghosting around the fabric of your panties before slowly taking them off his nose presses against your pussy as he presses his lips against it, giving it a kiss as his thumb rubs your inner thigh, drawing a whine out of you. 

 “Let me show you…how much I missed my wife.”

A Few Years Later…

You’re with your baby girl, Aelia, in the courtyard, playing with her as she lays on her back, wrapped in the linens you had sewn for after her arrival. You see your husband’s beautiful big brown eye in her as she looks up at you. She’s only a few months old, laying on a beautiful purple blanket Marcus had made for her when she was born, giggling and smiling at you as you shake a toy that made a noise she seems to enjoy greatly. You’re interrupted when you notice a guard bringing you a letter. Your name is written in the familiar penmanship of your husband. You pick up your daughter along with the letter and return inside the palace, going back to your room. You set Aelia down in her bassinet before grabbing the letter opener from the desk and opening the letter from your husband who has been away for a few days, eager to hear from him.

“My dulicissima,”

“I am returning to my accommodations after buying the home we saw earlier this year. I know you wish to accompany me, but it is a far journey from Rome, and you should be at home resting with Aelia, recovering postpartum, and relaxing. The meeting with the home’s previous owner went well, and we can move in at the end of the month. I am excited to move into our own home, away from my job, my previous job, I mean. I am not used to being retired, but I am grateful that there will no longer be any more long journeys away from you, fighting pointless wars. When I return, we can start preparing and packing to leave the Emperor’s place and enter a home of our own. I leave for Rome in the morning and look forward to being with you. Kiss Aelia for me, my love. See you both soon.”

~M.

tags: @baronessvonglitter 🖤

[hotasfahrenheit]

i've had some thoughts rattling around my brain about Keen since episode 9 showed us flashbacks of the boys as kids when they were adopted and then a little older when they started their training for real, and this week's episode just added more fuel to the fire.

i think one of the saddest things that the last couple episodes have really exposed that a lot of people might miss because of the other bombshells that have been dropped is the fact that Keen was set up possibly even worse than Fadel and Bison were in this life. they were adopted together, told they were going to be a family, and then Lily manipulated them all into becoming who they are as adults. she lucked out that Bison and Fadel liked each other so much and bonded so strongly to each other, and she used that bond to isolate and control Keen in a completely different way.

Keen's desperate to be in the field like the other two and to be sent on missions; he doesn't have the same set of skills that they do and wasn't able to develop his talents in the same way, and it's clear that Lilly took the natural aptitude of Fadel and Bison and turned that into what they are now, but she chose to push Keen into the behind the scenes aspect of the business. she's also made it clear from the start which set of talents she values more as is clear from the way she glares at Keen when he can't shoot his bottle in the flashback.

Keen isn't given any kind of reassurance or support for missing his shot, or told to try again; Lily answers Bison's questions about why they need to learn to shoot by telling them that they have to learn to protect themselves, then she gives Keen a few more judgey looks, implying it's something she doesn't expect him to be able to do. the next scene in the flashback is her giving Bison and Fadel their first assignment, and by this point Keen has already been relegated to being the paper guy and having an office job.

these kids all lost their parents and are gathered up by Lily at the same time and told they're going to be a family; they look like they're all roughly the same age. we all know how seriously Fadel and Bison take to the brother relationship, but Keen is pushed to the outside of this by Lily and her priorities. i had figured before episode 10 that they had been trained together for a longer period of time and maybe Keen had just not gotten along with them because he was jealous of their talents, but Fadel telling Style that he doesn't really know anything about Keen besides that they were adopted at the same time says to me that Lilly purposefully kept them apart instead of it being their choice.

Fadel saying they don't care about Keen makes me so sad for him. the fact that he only really knows that Keen was adopted at the same time and does other work for Lilly that's not in the field means they don't care because they don't know him at all. they haven't had the chance to bond with him the way that they did with each other. they weren't pushed together with him; they were pushed to each other, and Keen was pushed off on his own to watch them be the favoured children and struggle by himself.

imagine your parents are murdered in front of you, you're scooped up by this woman who says she's going to take care of you and build a family with you and two other boys your age who have been through the same experience, but then you're not as good as the other two boys at the tasks she sets you, plus the two of them deeply connect to each other and fall into a sibling bond and leave you outside of it. that you're kept so separate from them that despite being a "family" for years, they know basically nothing about you, while your shared mother keeps dangling the things you want right outside of your grasp.

she's driven a wedge between the boys so deep that Keen resents Fadel and Bison enough to WANT try to kill them himself, while they don't have any idea that he would even be willing or able to. he's been kept so far out of their notice while their successes and talents have been constantly waved in front of him as well as being consistently put down by Lilly for his mistakes and inadequacies. she's pushed Keen into a corner and made him think that it's Fadel and Bison's fault for putting him there instead of it being a way for her to control him and keep him under her thumb.

Fadel and Bison have given the impression from the first episode that it's the two of them against the world; brothers bonded so tightly together that nothing can shake that. they have a Mother, but really they only have each other. it's the two of them and it always will be. but there were three of them. there were three boys when this started. and they don't care about Keen. he's alone.

i'm really hoping that the current situation snaps Keen the rest of the way out of Lilly's control. he should have already figured out what his future looks like if he really wants out of the family business like he's promised Thanon, because if he's known the entire time that Fadel's last boyfriend got murdered instead of just leaving, he should be fully aware that they face the same fate if he tries to leave Lilly. with that knowledge plus finding out that Lilly killed his parents along with Fadel's and Bison's, hopefully he turns on her and helps the others take her down. her lack of hesitation to send him or other hired hitmen after the two favoured sons should be a pretty clear signal to him about her willingness to off him as well at the drop of a hat.

fingers crossed that Keen and Thanon get to have a happy life far away from Lilly and that he finally gets to have an actual family that doesn't involve manipulation, abuse, and murder.

[llendrinall]

Smoke and mirrors. On a predator’s social manipulation

I have been following Neil Gaiman’s case from a distance these past few months while also thinking a lot about manipulation of public’s perception. You can read my thoughts about smear campaigns in this post.

I see people going back over his published works looking for “clues” of his abhorrent behavior, but considering that Gaiman preyed on fans, I think it’s more useful to think about his public engagement with fans. Gaiman crafted a kind and compassionate public persona that allowed him to get closer to his victims and to enjoy an aura of credibility as an advocate and ally. Let’s see how he did it. .

1.) False advertising

I first followed Gaiman’s tumblr account because it meant having access to a professional writer and I like reading and writing. For intellectual property reasons, writers can’t engage too much with fans about future projects, but they can talk about their craft: how to revise a manuscript, how to decide on a title, etc.

But that’s not what you get following his blog. It dawned on me when the first allegations came and he stopped updating the blog. I didn’t notice his absence; I didn’t miss the content... because I was skipping over it.

I distinctly remember him giving writing advice and encouragement at some point. But slowly, over the las few years, he pivoted on to giving life advice. He had the perfect excuse, too. He received many asks, so many that he couldn't and didn’t sort through them and we know that tumblr works in clunky ways. If the posts about writing and creating dried up and were substituted by “Please, Papa Gaiman, tell me everything will be all right” posts… Well, that wasn’t on him, was it? It was the fans who massively sent those asks.

The last few years people have been in desperate need of reassurance, so it’s likely that he didn’t have to go out of his way to choose the asks that allowed him to build his compassionate persona. Still, it’s interesting in retrospect how he was less of a writer/creator and more of an online therapist.

2.) Oh, but I come from a long line of plucky little heroes.

Have you heard the story of Neil Gaiman’s Jewish grand cousin Helen? The Jewish woman who survived the Warsaw ghetto? The plucky Jewish young woman who would read books aloud to her fellow persecuted Jewish folk? It’s a great story, masterfully told.

Gaiman has openly stated that he is not a practicing Jew. I think he may have even said he does not consider himself Jewish, something like “Judaism is my family’s religion”. He would often talk about his heritage, though, about the persecution Jewish people have faced, about discrimination. Now, this is perfectly all right and understandable. Talking about your ancestors while not belonging 100 % to that group is fine. Nothing to see here. Each one deals with their family’s history as they see fit.

But it turns into a completely different color when you learn that the Gaiman family (parents, sisters and first wive) all belong to the Church of Scientology.

The relatively frequent mentions of the heroic Jewish cousin against the almost zero mention of his active-in-a-cult close family does arise the suspicion that he was commodifying his family history. By being and not being Jewish, Gaiman belonged to a persecuted group when convenient. He could inspire and request sympathy and he could position himself as someone who naturally understands discrimination, something that specially resonates with a LGTBI fanbase.

I want to make this very clear, talking about your family history and finding pride in your roots is not a red flag. It’s the contrast, it's reaching far back in the famlity tree and bringign to the light small pieces while keeping in the dark something very big.

3.) A prince among the common folk

This is about class division. The rich and famous sit at the top and us common folk crawl at the bottom, with little to no contact among the groups. Common folk look up in admiration and privileged folk look down and occasionally wave.

But not Gaiman. Remember the memes during the last Tumblr Sell? “This is the cringe website, the autistic website, the weirdo website. Oh, there is also Neil Gaiman, don’t mind him, he lives here”. Gaiman jumped the class barrier and hung out in the common folk spaces, like one of us.

However, his posts are designed to remind us that he is not, in fact, one of us. Like a royal boon, he bestowed attention and interaction (that he could sever at any moment if the fans displeased him. The control was always firmly clutched in his fist). He relied on the starstruck effect for his predation, which meant his presence had to be extraordinary, special; his engagement laden with worth. he had to keep his privileged status while also playing coy.

He did this through name dropping. Terry Pratchett, Douglas Adam, Salman Rushdie, Michael Sheen, David Tennant, (especially Tennant because he is more popular than Sheen), Tori Amos.

One way or another, we would know he had access to these famous people, that he got to see them in a different, private, light and that he chose to interact with us instead of with them.

I can’t think of a better way to make someone feel special.

4.) Others

There are other little clues that point at dishonesty and deliberate misdirection:

His assertion that he wrote 50 % of Good Omens and that it’s impossible to tell who wrote what, when anyone familiar with both his and Pratchett’s writing can tell that 80% of the book is Terry Pratchett’s work.

His general insistence that the TV show, especially the second season, was his way of completing T. Pratchett’s unfinished business. Good Omens was published in 1990 and Prachett’s last book came out in 2015. I think if Sir Terry had wanted a sequel of Good Omens out, he would have got it out.

Declaring himself autistic only to use it as an excuse for his behavior just a few months later. What a great way to casually prop a shield in advance.

Conclusion

Neil Gaiman’s public behavior and interactions built the image of a very sympathetic character with multiple built-in defenses against allegations (he is so nice, of course you attack the Jewish man, all these famous people vouch of him, he is just autistic!). This strategy also helped him encourage and exploit parasocial relationships by positioning himself as a special companion. 

Hoepfully, seeing this laid out can help us be more aware of manipulation tactics from regular and famous people both.

Note: I am including cscreenshots rather than links because I want to anonymize the fans. Also, in case his tumblr is deleted.