#they are ALL terrible what did you expect

[kabuki-writes]

Ubi tu Gaius, ego Gaia

chapter: 6 chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

pairing: emperor geta/emperor caracalla x acacius' daughter!reader

summary: The wedding ceremony with Emperor Geta gives you a first glimpse of what you are going to face, once the title 'Empress' crowns you. Meanwhile Caracalla has to deal with the thoughts about his twin owning you now.

warning(s): heavy nsfw & sexual violence | angst | alcohol consumption | drug consumption | semi-edited | english is not my first language, faults may occur | please let me know if i missed anything

Note: I am wishing you all a 'Merry Christmas'! Sorry that this chapter took so long, i wanted to finish it faster, but i was ill for quite some time and had no head for writing. No worries though, i am feeling better now! A small reminder: Due to the holidays, the next chapter might take a bit of time.

word count: 3.6k

Gods expected rituals and nothing in Rome was more important, more holy and more strict to certain rules than a wedding - especially the wedding of an Emperor. A whole series of necessaries had to be prepared in advance to this special celebration before the bride and the groom were able to stand in front of the altar. From the preparation of the dowry to the sacrifices made to the gods. It all began with the most formal part: engagement ceremony, where the exchange of promises between the groom and the bride's father hold more significance than the words of the soon-to-be-wed woman. In Roman society, being born a female was still strongly bound to ownership. First the ownership of the father and then the ownership of the husband. And even though rich Roman women had more freedom than others, it was still a life in societal chains.

Now that you sat on the floor to your mother‘s feet, you instantly thought about the eyes of that lamb your family had brought to the temple of Juno as a sacrifice. The innocence in its eyes slaughtered by the dagger of the priest. One Life for another Life - yours. Did Juno have her blessing? How could you know right now.

„Mother…?“, you spoke out as you noticed the shaking hands and the tears in your mother‘s eyes.

She was pale as marble, trying her best to keep her face, but you were well aware of how much it destroyed her and your father to let you go - especially when the arms of your soon-to-be-husband were Emperor Geta. As a daughter, you tried your best to comfort your mother, as much as it hurt you too. Your hands took hers, gently squeezing them, while your eyes found hers. "I shouldn't cry, i know...", she whispered and placed her hand on your cheek through the thin fabric of the flame-coloured veil that covered your face. Your body was clothed in a beautiful white tunica dress, embroidered with golden depictions of different flowers. You were shackled by the amount of jewelry - engagement presents of Emperor Geta for his bride -, expensive golden necklaces and bracelets that should depict the status you will have standing by his side. Although you were no Empress yet, you wore a bridal crown on top of your carefully braided hair. One of woven fragrant herbs and flowers, Rosemary, verbena, marjoram, roses, violets, and lilies, to represent fertility.

"My beautiful daughter, even Venus would envy you now. But i had wished that... that you would not have to marry a man like-"

"Don't", you stopped her, knowing fully well, which name she was about to say and you shook her head. It was meaningless to express any form of sorrow or hatred, even if this wedding was a forced one - a trade for your own life and that of your parents. Terrible or not, it would bring honor to your family and in the end, it would make you Empress. A gift as well as a heavy burden, especially given the man that will be your husband - your Emperor. Geta.

A marriage ceremony always followed specific rules, that were meant to please the gods. A scacrifice in the temples of Juno and Jupiter was mandatory, but soon you'll face another significant part of your wedding. As Romans believed the only bride of value was a virgin who had to be stolen from her family, they simulated the bride being abducted from her family as part of the ceremony. You were able to hear the chants and chattering of the big entourage of guests arriving to you parent's home outside - accompanied by a large amount of Praetorian Guards and the Emperor himself. Usually the large wedding feast and celebration would take place at the bride's family home, but given the significance of an Emperor's wedding and the amount of guests, it was agreed that it would take place in the palace after the procession.

Even if you tried to face it with a stoic mask, your heart pumped against your chest - a mixture of excitement and fear. Your eyes closed for a moment, as you heard the footsteps and voices of the Praetorian soldiers and amongst them Geta's, who was the first to enter the room. You were still facing your mother, holding her hands tight, while tears ran down her face. "I am here to claim my bride", the Emperor called out with a triumphant smile on his face, dressed in a golden, heavy decorated armor and a white groom's toga - a depiction like a god. Unusual for a wedding ceremony, but it was a symbol. A symbol of the power and wealth of the twin's reign, a symbol of his triumph over General Acacius, who had no choice anymore than to give him his most precious belonging - his daughter.

Seeing you there on your knees was a sight we might never forget. Even if your back faced him, he could see your curves under the garment you wore and he immediately thought about the wedding night, which was the highlight in his mind for today. But right now he had to calm himself, as he stepped forward and suddenly took you at the waist to pull you from your crying mother's embrace. "Mother!", you screamed as the groom forced you to go with him, tears dripping down your cheeks under the flame-red veil. The tradition dictated that the bride would cry out in pain to fool the gods of the home that she was taken away, 'stolen' before you would have to walk the procession without the protection of any god until you stepped into the home of the groom.

All of Rome had gathered in the streets to witness the procession of the Emperor's wedding. You stood at his side on a richly decorated chariot carried by two pale-white horses. The big amount of wedding guests accompanied your path by singing the Hymenaeus and carrying a whitehorn torch, a spina alba, to honor the goddess Ceres. Normally you would simply walk to the palace, as it was the core of such a parade, but nothing was normal about an Emperor's wedding and especially not Geta's. He wanted to show-off, he wanted eveyone to know how powerful he was and that he was now marrying the daughter of one of Rome's most successful beloved generals. It was all calculated and everything followed a plan, he viewed as perfect. This union was not only a definite way to get you, it formed an even closer bond between his and his brother's reign and your father's role as a military general. Would he ever betray them again, it will also be a betrayal against you. And another calculated side-effect was the use of Acacius' popularity through a marriage with his daughter.

The masses cheered for you and for the Emperor, they wished you "feliciter" - "good luck" for your marriage, some of them even shouted your name. It felt surreal and you were glad that the veil covered your face, while you bit your tongue. The palace, your new home, on the palatin hill looked even more oppressive than the last time you'd faced it. Your heart was heavy and you could practically feel the stare Geta gave you, but also the one of Caracalla, who followed you two alongside your father and mother as part of the wedding procession. There was something lingering in his eyes, something you didn't notice as you were focused on what lied ahead. Geta leaned towards your ear and whispered.

"Isn't it exciting, my dear...? You will soon be the wife of an Emperor, my wife." He accenturated his last words, almost as if he had to point out that your life center will soon be him and him alone.

"How could i forget. Just as i may never forget the true reason, why i am here. A threat is still a threat", you answered in a low tone, provocative.

But the groom simply chuckled and turned his face towards the cheering masses again, waving to the common folk. He didn't really care about them in any way, but he knew well about the power of such events in the eyes of the plebs. And to accompany this wedding, he'd already ordered games in the collosseum and many festivities around Rome in honor of his special day.

"Let me tell you that i rather enjoy those little outbursts of hatred. I will ask you again, once you enjoy all the privileges an Empress has. I can be a generous man, as long as you're not testing my patience. For now, i simply expect you to smile and show those peasants the beauty of their beloved general's daughter. Let them see that the sun is shining upon them in the presence of Venus."

Words like honey and yet they tasted bitter to you, while his hand was locked on your back, not only to stabilize you on the chariot, but also holding you tightly against his own body. You belonged to him now and he wanted everyone to see that.

_______________________________

“Ubi tu Gaia, Ego Gaius.”

“Ubi tu Gaius, Ego Gaia.”

The words still rang in your head, again and again, even as the music and the chattering of the feast surrounded you. And you still felt the kiss of Geta's lips on yours, even if it was only the beginning. You were considered married now.

Fire and Water. The symbol of life. The moment you stood at the main door of the palace, a matron of honor hold a candle and a bowl of water, as both you and Geta traced your hands over it. He was able to lift your veil at that point, kiss you and carry you over the doorstep - it was that simple in the end. And it had sealed your life forever.

It was necessary and yet the kiss was longer than it should've been as it was the first symbolic union of groom and bride in front of the wedding guests, who cheered and honored them with chanter and congratulations. And even though it was just a kiss on the lips, nothing more, you could practically sense the hunger of Geta, the hunger for more. Of course it had to wait until he got you in his bed the first time, but this would soon become a reality and you didn't know if you were ready for it.

The music and the voices of the people were still a numb background sound as your eyes glanced over the room, while you were sitting right next to your now husband on a lectus, receiving one personal congratulation after another. The palace was richly decorated, even more than the last time you were here for the victory celebrations of your father. Hordes of servants ran around to assure that all the guests had enough of the expensive wine and expansive food, luxuriously presented on a long table with tons of fruits, vegetables, fish as well as expensive, rare meat such as ostrich, peacock and wild deer.

Roman generals, politicians, rich merchants, every patrician from Rome’s upper class had gathered here to celebrate the union between Emperor Geta and his new wife. The wedding gifts ranging from gold, jewelry and silk to exotic animals were piling up in another room, as servants had to walk in and out, every time another guest paid his respect. You gave them your smile and your words of thanks and yet none of it really reached your eyes, as you were still trying to cope with the fact that they now adressed you as 'Empress'. Your eyes went to your parents, which were part of the guests, who participated in the feast and celebrations. But you could clearly see the pain in your father's eyes and the pale face of your mother, who could barely eat something even though she tried to hide her sorrows behind her rehearsed mask of charm and politeness. Their eyes find yours in certain moments and it hurt you the most to see them like this as you knew very well, that your father gave himself the blame for your current situation. But you had already moved on, as it made no sense to cry about the past in any way.

But you were pulled from your thoughts, when it was Emperor Caracalla, who stepped forward to pay his respect to the new wed couple. The twin of Geta with the golden laurel wreath crown on his head was dressed in an ornate that depicted his wealth, expensive embroidered silk in dark blue and purple colors, a stark contrast to his gingerblonde, wild hair. Even though he smiled, you could see that it was a forced one, a bitter smile, hiding his true thoughts. "Brother, i congratulate you and your beautiful wife on your wedding. May the gods bless this union," he spoke out, while Geta already stood up and you followed him.

"Your words mean the most to me, Caracalla. Thank you," his twin answered with a happy smile as he took him into his arms and hugged him tight.

Even though Geta came off as a crual human being sometimes, it was undeniable that he hold nothing but a strong brotherly love for his twin, despite them sharing the power. After Geta, Carcalla turned to you and placed his hands on your cheeks.

"I welcome you to the family," he whispered, before he placed one kiss on each side of your cheek.

It was not an uncommon gesture to do so, especially not as a way to welcome someone in a new household - but Geta's eyes were locked on you two as his brother did so. And you were very aware that something was off in this very moment, as you could feel the slightly trembling fingers of Caracalla on your skin, as if he had to hold himself back. He quickly stepped back, staring into your eyes, while a servant rushed to him, giving the Emperor a small wooden box, carved with all sorts of flowers.

"I thought, ... since you'e now the new Empress of Rome, the only present worth your grace would be a crown that truly underlines your beauty," Caracalla explained and opened the box.

In it was a golden half-round Roman-styled tiara with ornamental decorations, well-crafted with every little detail that catched your eyes. It was stunning, even given all the expensive jewelry with which Geta had hung you, it was still breathtaking. A soft smile appeared on your lips, before you spoke your words.

"This is a wonderful and very generous gift, my Emperor. I thank you dearly". Caracalla's lips shuddered, before he forced an almost innocent smile on them too.

"This tiara is made after my personal request. The artist was assigned to model it after the crown that Empress Poppea wore once. The wife of Emperor Nero. I thought you might like the... historical connotation to it".

Your face grew pale, while you tried your best to keep your smile in place. Geta didn't seemed to realize what his brother meant with that - but you did. You instantly remembered the conversation you had with him at the amphitheater, you remembered the way he looked at you, the desire in his eyes, that was still present in this very moment. And even though his brother did not understand the true meaning behind Caracalla's gift, he did sense the tension that lingered in the air.

"Thank you, brother", he instantly cut the air with his voice, his hands softly taking the tiara out of the box before you could do anything.

Geta positioned himself between you and Caracalla, a very clear symbol that even if he tolerated his brother in your presence and might even be willing to allow him much more freedom than a husband would, it was still Geta, who called you his wife now. You were his. So it was him, who placed the tiara onto your head, where it perfectly fit with the half-bridal hairstyle you wore. His eyes lingered on your face for a moment, before his fingers touched your skin as he pushed one of your straints of hair back in place before leaning down to your ear.

"Just a little more time and then I'll have you all to myself", he whispered, before he turned to his seat again.

There was only one step for this marriage to be fully recognized in the eyes of the gods and it was the wedding night - Geta's prize, which he longed for and Caracalla's hell. The reminder he will not be the first to have you, but his twin.

_______________________________

"Say it! SAY THAT YOU LOVE ME!", he hissed over and over again, pounding harder with each word.

His fingers pressed against the neck of a concubine, while his golden rings tightly pinched into the soft flesh. She wore quite a similar attire than you did today, her hair styled like yours, her face at least reminding Caracalla of you. But that concubine was nothing like you, a dull replacement, a vessel the Emperor needed to get the heat and anger off his mind as he fucked her senseless under the eyes of his entourage of male and female slaves. No one said a word, fear was written in their eyes, because they knew it was one of their owners 'outbursts'. They could see how the young woman tried desperately to get a catch of air, while Caracalla strangled her in his psychotic state, tears running down his cheeks as he did so. Instead of his brother it should've been him to marry you, to fuck you, to love you like you deserved. A goddess amongst the common humans, a Venus. He was Nero and you were his Poppea. At least here in his own chambers, he could play out this fantasy, while the wedding celebration still went on and you were probably on your way to the chambers of his damned twin brother Geta. It needed a lot of sex and a cocktail of ancient drugs to numb his thoughts over this injustice.

"I love you-..., my Emperor", the young woman under him moaned with all the strength that she could find in a situation like that, the fear of losing her life all written on her face.

But those words were the ones Caracalla needed to hear. With a couple of heavy thrusts, he came inside of her, spilling his semen into that concubine like he would've done with you - if he just had the chance. His eyes were still shimmering wet with his tears, while he pulled back, catching his breath for himself in this moment. The young woman layed on the mattress in front of him, still alive, but in a state of bliss and shock, her eyes wet in tears as well. She wasn't able to say something, and even if so, she were not allowed to do anyways. Caracalla's ice-blue eyes stared cold at her naked body, freezing in the moment as he tried to still pretend to himself that it was you laying in front of him. But it wasn't you and it hit his mind now. This woman was just another whore he tried so desperately to numb his thoughts with. Yet the voices in his head grew louder and louder. "Get her out of my sight!", the Emperor ordered.

"I don't want to see this girl ever again. She is nothing compared to her - throw her away, i cannot stand this waste any longer!", he screamed with a hoarse voice, still sobbing.

"Where is Dondus!?"

No one dared to speak up in a situation like that, no one even dared to look at Caracalla. Everything that might anger the young Emperor could end in an immediate death right now. Even the slave that always carried his pet monkey around, simply rushed to the Emperor and handed him over Dondus in silence, before retreating as fast as possible.

"Oh Dondus, all of this is so unfair. Every time i desire something, he has to take it from me. Nothing truly belongs to me and me alone... it is alwas us", he mumbled with a shake in his voice, while he carefully took his monkey and placed him on a pillow as if it was his child.

Caracalla never treated anyone as careful and caring as he treated his pet monkey. In fact, he could be quite cruel, depending on his mood that changed rapidly between weird happiness and irrational anger. This little animal had more importance to him than any human life - well, except for yours of course. And everyone here knew this. The Emperor would never hurt Dondus, but it only took one outburst of hate for a slave or even a patrician to lose their head in an instant.

"I want her, my Poppea ... i cannot stand the thought of not having her...i cannot. I love you her you understand this, Dondus, don't you? No one understands me the way you do. She is an incarnation of Venus."

But Dondus just looked at him with his dark button eyes - how could a monkey understand love? And how could he understand, how much it pain it left in Caracalla.

____________________________

Tags:

quuinyoung koshkahhh mmkkzz analves pandora-journey ange-olras tellynojelly targwh0re h3k3t onelemonoat whitenoise808 spooky-cupid dev1lbella onelemonoat hawraa-alzubaidi omg-hellgirl the-holy-pigeon justnobodynothingmore fandomblogs-stuff justnobodynothingmore superblyspeedydragon deliciousfestsalad moon-390 lv9su harmfulb1tch apollonshootafar zalera8310 sweetffcts lvspedri soltik capitanostella weepingfashionwritingplaid labellapeaky @qardasngan @fallout-girl219 @chaand-sitara @eighttens @riddlerloveb0t @nicksolemnlyswears @myotakureprieve @lovely--lover @idiotsatan @mqrrstarr @eclypsosworld @happythingtiger @a-lovers-card

[neferaskingdom]

♡ What's Me Without You? | MV1

NEFERASKINGDOM

Summary: She’s his forbidden fruit—the one thing Max can never have but can’t stay away from. She’s his calm in the chaos, his greatest temptation, and the silent ache he’ll carry for the rest of his life.

A/N: This story was requested by @pinkinternetstarlight

MAX VERSTAPPEN MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

Max Verstappen wasn’t sure when the ache in his chest had become a constant companion, a dull, hollow reminder of all he wanted but could never have. Maybe it had always been there, buried beneath the layers of fame, pressure, and expectation. Or maybe it had grown over time, with every laugh that escaped Y/n’s lips, with every soft touch of her hand on his arm, with every time she smiled at him like he was her whole world.

He didn’t deserve her. He never had.

Yet, she was always there, unwavering in her support, her loyalty, her love—though she would never admit it. Y/n wasn’t just his best friend. She was his home, the only person who saw every crack in his armor and stayed anyway.

Max leaned back against the couch, his head resting on her lap as her fingers combed gently through his hair. Her touch was soothing, her presence grounding him in a way no one else could. The silence between them wasn’t awkward; it was familiar, comforting. It was the kind of quiet that reminded him he wasn’t alone.

But even now, even with her hand softly stroking his head and her scent surrounding him, guilt gnawed at the edges of his mind.

He’d had a terrible race—another mechanical failure, another DNF that left him simmering with frustration. When he’d finally returned to his hotel room, all he wanted was her. Not Kelly, who was waiting for him back in Monaco with Penelope, but Y/n. It wasn’t right, and he knew it, but Y/n was the only one who could put him back together when he felt like he was falling apart.

“I came as soon as I could,” she whispered, her voice soft and laced with worry.

She always did.

It didn’t matter where in the world he was. It didn’t matter what she had going on. If he needed her, she came. She’d dropped everything to be here tonight, flying across time zones and leaving behind her own life to hold him in her arms.

Max closed his eyes, breathing her in. He could feel the tension in her body as she sat rigid beneath him, her free hand resting lightly on his shoulder. She was worried about him—she always worried about him.

“You didn’t have to come,” he murmured, though they both knew it was a lie. He didn’t know how to survive these nights without her anymore.

“Don’t be stupid,” she replied, her voice soft but firm. “Of course I had to come. You’re—” She paused, swallowing hard. “You’re my best friend.”

Max’s eyes fluttered open as her hand stilled in his hair. He shifted slightly, pressing his face into her neck, seeking the comfort he couldn’t find anywhere else.

Her skin was warm against his cheek, her pulse steady and reassuring. He felt safe here, in her arms, in her presence. But the safety came with a tinge of guilt, a bitter reminder that this wasn’t where he should be.

But Kelly didn’t understand.

Max could see it in the way her lips pressed together whenever Y/n’s name came up, the way her smile tightened whenever Y/n walked into the room. She never said anything outright, but the tension was there, simmering beneath the surface.

It didn’t matter.

Max knew where his loyalty lay. Y/n had been there long before Kelly, long before anyone. She was the reason he kept going some days, the only person who truly understood the toll this life took on him. Kelly might not like it, but even she couldn’t deny it—Max needed Y/n in a way he would never need anyone else.

He tried to make it work with Kelly, for Penelope’s sake if nothing else. He liked Kelly—she was kind and understanding in her own way, and he adored Penelope. But it wasn’t the same. It never could be.

Kelly had confronted him about it once, in the early days of their relationship.

“She loves you,” she had said, her voice calm but cutting.

Max had frozen, unsure how to respond. He didn’t deny it. How could he? Y/n’s love was written in every small thing she did for him, in every sacrifice she made, in every time she dropped everything to be by his side.

“And you love her,” Kelly had continued, her eyes hard but resigned.

He didn’t deny that, either.

But Kelly had never brought it up again. She knew better.

Because as much as she hated it, as much as it hurt her, she knew that if something happened Max would always choose Y/n. 

Max shifted on the couch, his voice breaking the silence. “Do you ever think about what it would be like? If things were different?”

Y/n’s hand stilled in his hair, her fingers hovering for a moment before resuming their gentle strokes.

“Different how?” she asked softly, her voice careful, cautious.

Max hesitated, his heart pounding. He didn’t know why he had said it, why he was opening this door. But the words were out now, and there was no taking them back.

“Us,” he said quietly. “If we were...different.”

Y/n was silent for a long time, and Max felt his chest tighten, the weight of her unspoken words pressing down on him.

“Don’t,” she whispered finally, her voice trembling. “Don’t say things like that, Max.”

He remembered the first time she had cried in front of him. They had been teenagers, sitting in his room after a long day.

“No one likes me,” she had said, her voice thick with tears. “I’m ugly, and I’m boring, and no one wants to be with me.”

Max had been furious—not at her, but at the world for making her feel this way. He had held her as she cried, whispering reassurances into her hair.

“You’re beautiful,” he had told her, his voice firm. “And anyone who doesn’t see that is an idiot.”

She had sniffled, pulling back to look at him with watery eyes. “You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not,” he had said, his hands on her shoulders. “You’re amazing, Y/n. And if some guy doesn’t see that, then he’s not worth your time.”

He meant it. He always had.

But Max couldn’t help but feel guilty. After all, it was his fault she was crying in the first place.

He knew he had chased away every boy who had shown an interest in her. He hadn’t meant to, not at first. But the thought of her with someone else, of her giving her heart to someone who wasn’t him, was unbearable.

So he had intervened, subtly at first, then more overtly as time went on. He didn’t regret it, even when she cried on his shoulder, wondering why no one stayed.

He couldn’t tell her the truth, couldn’t admit that he was the reason.

Because Max Verstappen was a selfish man. And he couldn’t let a bit of guilt stop him from protecting her.

Max’s fists clenched as he watched Y/n laugh with the guy at the bar. Her smile was radiant, and for a moment, Max forgot how to breathe.

Then the guy leaned closer, and Max saw red.

“You okay?” Y/n asked when Max stalked over, her brows knitting in concern.

“Fine,” he said tightly, his gaze flicking to the guy. “Who’s this?”

The guy opened his mouth to respond, but Max cut him off. “You should go.”

“Max!” Y/n hissed, her eyes widening.

The guy frowned but quickly walked away, muttering something under his breath.

“What the hell was that?” Y/n demanded, crossing her arms.

“He was bothering you,” Max said, his jaw clenching.

“He wasn’t bothering me,” she snapped. “He was nice. And now he thinks I’m some helpless girl with an overprotective brother.”

Max flinched at the word brother. “I was just looking out for you.”

“I don’t need you to scare off every guy I talk to!” she said, her voice rising.

Max looked away, guilt twisting in his stomach. “I’m sorry,” he muttered.

Y/n sighed, her expression softening. “Just...let me handle it next time, okay?”

“Okay,” he said quietly, though he knew there wouldn’t be a next time.

Because no one would ever be good enough for her.

Max remembered the night he realized he was in love with her.

They had been eighteen, sitting on the hood of his car under a blanket of stars. It was one of the rare nights he wasn’t on the road, and she had insisted on taking him out to the middle of nowhere to remind him what quiet felt like.

“Do you ever think about the future?” she had asked, her voice soft and wistful.

“Sometimes,” he had admitted, though the future was always a blur to him—races, championships, the never-ending grind.

“I think about it all the time,” she had said, her eyes shining as she looked at the sky. “Where we’ll be, what we’ll be doing...if we’ll still be here together.”

“Of course we will,” he had said without hesitation.

She had smiled then, the kind of smile that made his heart ache, and he realized in that moment that he wanted to see that smile every day for the rest of his life.

But he had been too afraid to say anything, too afraid to ruin what they had. And as the years passed, that fear only grew.

Max didn’t deserve her, but that didn’t stop him from wanting her.

He wanted her laugh, her touch, her presence in every corner of his life. He wanted to wake up to her sleepy smile and fall asleep with her head on his chest. He wanted to tell her how much she meant to him, how much he loved her, how he would give anything to be the man she deserved.

But he couldn’t.

Because she deserved better.

And so he kept his feelings locked away, hidden beneath layers of unspoken words and longing glances.

There were moments when he thought about what it would be like to be with her, really be with her.

He thought about holding her hand in public, about introducing her as his girlfriend instead of his best friend. He thought about what it would be like to kiss her, to wake up beside her, to call her his.

But then the doubts crept in, the fear that he would ruin her, that his demons would drag her down with him.

She was too good for him, too pure, too kind. Those thoughts were dangerous, and Max knew better than to indulge them.

Max shifted on the couch, pulling back to look at her.

“Thank you,” he said softly, his voice rough with emotion.

She frowned, tilting her head. “For what?”

“For everything,” he said, his eyes searching hers. “For always being here. For putting up with me. For...everything.”

She smiled, and it was like the sun breaking through the clouds. “You don’t have to thank me, Max. You know I’d do anything for you.”

And that was the problem.

She would do anything for him, and he would let her, even though he knew he didn’t deserve it.

Max didn’t sleep that night.

He never could when the weight of his emotions threatened to suffocate him, and tonight, it felt heavier than ever. He stayed where he was, his shoulder stiff but unwilling to move and disturb her peaceful slumber. Y/n deserved her rest—she had flown halfway across the world just for him. She always did.

The next morning, Y/n was awake before him, bustling quietly around the small hotel room. Max cracked his eyes open, watching her from where he lay. She had always been a morning person, though he didn’t know how she managed it after such long flights and sleepless nights.

“Good morning,” she said softly, noticing his gaze.

Her voice was warm, soothing, and it wrapped around him like a blanket.

“Morning,” he replied, his voice thick with sleep.

Y/n walked over, holding out a cup of coffee. Max took it gratefully, his fingers brushing against hers. The touch was brief but enough to send a spark up his arm, one he tried desperately to ignore.

“Feeling better?” she asked, sitting down beside him.

He nodded, though it was a lie. He felt worse, if anything, but he wouldn’t tell her that. He couldn’t.

“You didn’t have to stay,” he said quietly, staring into his coffee.

“I wanted to,” she replied, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Max turned to look at her, his chest tightening at the sight of her soft smile. She always looked at him like that, like he was the most important person in her world. And maybe he was.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Max had meetings and obligations, and Y/n trailed behind him, her presence quiet but comforting.

It wasn’t until they returned to his hotel room that evening that the tension in his chest began to ease.

Y/n curled up on the couch, her legs tucked beneath her as she scrolled through her phone. Max sat beside her, close enough that their shoulders touched. He could feel the warmth radiating from her, and it was enough to make his heart ache.

“I should head back tomorrow,” she said after a while, her voice hesitant.

Max’s stomach twisted at the thought. He didn’t want her to leave—not yet, not ever—but he knew he couldn’t ask her to stay.

“Do you have to?” he asked, his voice quieter than he intended.

Y/n turned to look at him, her eyes soft. “I’ve been gone from work too long already, Max. I can’t keep disappearing every time you need me.”

The words weren’t meant to hurt, but they did.

“I know,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I’ll miss you.”

Her expression softened further, and she reached out, her hand resting gently on his. “I’ll miss you too.”

Max didn’t want to let her go, but the next morning, he found himself standing in the lobby, watching as she prepared to leave.

“Call me if you need anything,” she said, her voice firm. “I mean it, Max.”

“I will,” he promised, though they both knew he hated calling her. He hated being a burden, hated pulling her away from her life.

She hugged him tightly, her arms wrapped around his neck. Max held her just as tightly, his hands resting on her back.

“Take care of yourself, okay?” she whispered.

He nodded, though he wasn’t sure he knew how to without her.

Back in Monaco, Kelly was waiting for him. She greeted him with a kiss, and Penelope ran into his arms, her laughter filling the room.

It should have been enough.

And in a way, it was. Max loved Penelope, and he cared for Kelly. But it wasn’t the same. It would never be the same.

That night, as he lay in bed beside Kelly, his mind wandered to Y/n. He wondered what she was doing, if she was thinking about him the way he was thinking about her.

Kelly shifted beside him, her arm draping over his chest. Max stiffened, guilt washing over him.

He wasn’t a cheater, but sometimes, it felt like he was. Max loved Kelly in his own way, but it wasn’t the kind of love that consumed him. It wasn’t the kind of love that made his chest ache and his heart race.

That kind of love was reserved for Y/n, and he knew it always would be.

As long as she was happy, he would endure the ache.

Because she deserved better than him.

And Max Verstappen would rather break his own heart a thousand times than let anyone break hers.

[anakinstwinklebunny]

Hiiiiiiii!!! I have a fluff requestttt. So Anakin comes home late, like super late. And the house is quiet, a little too quiet. Worried Anakin goes to the y/n and his room. She's not there. He hurried to the kids' room, and there's she's sleeping. Feeling guilty, Anakin carries y/n back to their room. She wakes up and them being super cute. Idk, it's a terrible and a little too simple request, but I'm dying to see fluff like that, and you're THE ONLY ONE who can write that😭😭

Author's note: I.LOVE.THIS. Nonnie, your mind is brilliant, don't tell me it's terrible, it's PERFECTION‼️ only I hope you'll like it cause I dunno.. :///

It was late.

Later than ANAKIN SKYWALKER had expected to be back home, so he wasn't surprised when all what met him was pure quietness and darkness of the first floor of your house. You'd often wait for him but now? He wasn't even sure if anyone was there.“Y/N?” he called softly after taking off his shoes

No response.

Checking all the rooms on the first floor and really making sure you weren't pulling on some scary-ass joke on him, he made his way through the house, up the stairs towards the bedroom, but when he finally pushed the wooden door open, the bed was empty.

He frowned.

A hint of worry settled in his heart.

He moved to the children's bedroom and gently cracked the door open before peeking inside. Eyes immediately softened at the sight before him. You, curled up in the little chair by the crib, your head resting against the edge, clearly fast asleep. The boy was sprawled in his crib, his twin sister next to him sleeping with tiny fingers wrapped around her favorite stuffed bear.

Mix of guilt and tenderness tugged at Anakin's chest. He carefully stepped inside, trying to be as quiet as a shadow, and stood beside you. The urge to just scoop you up in his arms was almost overwhelming, he felt obligated to do that. So with that, his large hand gently slid under your legs then one wrapped around your waist before he scooped you up and tried to quietly leave the room

He walked through the hall, just holding you like you were the most precious gift in his life (and let's be honest, you completely were). You stirred in his arms but hadn't wake yet, your face so relaxed in sleep.

Eyes fluttering open, seeing a familiar posture leaning over you “Annie?” you murmured

He leaned down, brushing a stray lock of hair that fallen over your forehead, before pressing his lips against that spot “Yeah, baby, it’s me. Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. Just didn't want you to have a back pain later” he grinned in this too beautiful-for-this-hour way, fingers loosening his tie

You yawned, stretching a little before reaching up to lazily, tiredly wrap your arms around his neck, fingers stroking the short curls there. “You’re home so late,” you whispered, voice still heavy with slumber. “Everything okay? Did something happen at work?”

He smiled, “Yeah, everything’s fine. Just… missed you a lot today..” he simply replied, laying down on his side on the bed, pulling you near

You smiled sleepily up at him, eyes half-lidded before you let yourself nuzzle into his chest. “Missed you too,” you murmured.

Anakin brushed his lips against the top of your head “I’m home now,” hand finding the way to rest on your thigh - stroking so lovingly, purely "Tomorrow I'll take care of the kids, you just rest, love"

you sighed contentedly, face nuzzling to his chest, inhaling his intoxicating scent “Good,” you whispered, barely keeping it all together to actually fall unconscious in sleep “I love you.”

Anakin smiled with affection. He gently pulled you closer, hand slipping beneath your chin to make you look up at him “I love you, too,” he whispered before capturing your lips in a tender kiss.

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @deceptiive @anakinskwkler @bimbo-baggins17 @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @l1ttle-misssh1ne

[abnormalshark]

Jinx x reader (self harm comfort!) **NOT PROOFREAD!!!*

Synopsis: After a long day, you’re taken by surprise as your girlfriend Jinx comes home earlier than usual.

TW: SH, BLOOD, BLADES, ECT

It was a cold and quiet evening. Jinx was long gone for the night. Probably off in her workspace deeply absorbed in her creations. Although you supported her wholeheartedly You really did start to dread the lonely nights.

The thoughts in your head swarm at the dead of night like moths swarming to a dirty streetlight. The goosebumps on your arms multiplying as the ice cold blade pierces your skin.

“it’s the only thing that helps!”

“no one has to know.”

“Just this last time and I’ll quit.”

Those are the thoughts that plague you. Denial and reason bickering in your mind as the warm blood drips down your arm.

You exhale shakily but relieved as the pain from the cut forcefully takes your minds attention away from all of your insecurities and worries.

You’re lost in paradise. It feels nice not to think about it. Your legs feel like jelly and your hands shaking terribly as you try to hold up the towel tightly against your arm.

It doesn’t take long for you to start up again. Your soft fingers pick up the blade and you inhale deeply. Closing your eyes and taking in the moment. The blade makes contact once more. You open your eyes as Your pupils dilate at the sight.

“Y/n? what are you doing?” A raspy voice catches you by surprise. You raise your eyes towards the mirror in front of you. It’s her. Your girlfriend. Standing ever so comfortably against the door frame.

Suddenly your body starts to move grabbing nearly everything in sight trying to hide it from her view. Tears start to dribble out of your eyes. “F-Fuck! I- listen I just- I-“ your sentences turn into words and soon enough your words turn into intolerable sounds. However, you’re immediately brought back when jinx’s cold hands touch your shoulder.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I’ve dealt with this stuff too ya know… I know how to help.” She takes your arm without warning and starts to clean it. Occasionally she’d respond with a tiny ‘ow sorry’ when you wince. “I- I don’t know I just-“ you take a deep breath to gather your words. “I know you have your own problems and I just have all these thoughts in my head that won’t stop.” Your shaky voice spews out.

“You dummy…” jinx’s eyes look yearningly at yours. “That doesn’t mean you have to face it alone.” She mumbles. She sounds as if she might cry just watching you in pain.

You can’t help but notice your girlfriend looks rather cute from this perspective. Worried and concerned yet… so calm.

“I love you” the words burst out of your mouth. You didn’t expect them to come out but you’re not upset that they did.

Jinx lets out a hearty chuckle. She kisses you ever so gently as she rubs her thumb over the bandages on your arm. “I love you too, sweetheart.”

She gets up alarmingly fast. Eyes closed as she stretches her arms up towards the ceiling. “C’mon, we better go before Isha tries to break the laws of physics and magically put her ear through the door.”

She laughs and smiles warmly at you. “By the way… I am going to bug you about your feelings later. You’re not off the hook yet, ‘Kay?”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　

! Idk I legit wrote it half asleep but hope you still enjoyed it!! Merry christmas everyone!!

[httpsdana]

Heyy! Can you make a kenan x reader imagine?? So reader gets kind of ignored by kenan because of his full schedule and when she finds him relaxing at their living room she is all happy to see him and he gets annoyed that she's super clingy but he's actually angry because of a bad day at training. So she changes a through time, she's less around and less talking. Kenan later realises the mistake he made and tries to to be forgiven.

Silent Regrets~Kenan Yildiz

・❥・prompt list

・❥・masterlist -> part 2

・❥・who I write for

Kenan walked through the door, his shoulders slumping with exhaustion.

She had been waiting for this moment all day, eager to see him after weeks of barely spending time together. The excitement bubbled in her chest as she hurried to the living room, but when she saw his face—tired, irritated—she hesitated.

Still, she couldn’t stop the soft smile that crept onto her face. "Kenan," she said, her voice filled with warmth. "You’re home early."

He tossed his bag onto the couch and let out a heavy sigh, not meeting her gaze. "Yeah."

"how was training?" she said, her tone still light.

"Long," he muttered, sitting down and leaning back against the cushions, his eyes shutting briefly.

She bit her lip, unsure whether to push further. He had been distant lately, and the silence between them had grown unbearable. Maybe tonight could be different.

"I made your favorite for dinner," she said softly, trying to gauge his mood.

"Not hungry," he replied, his voice flat.

The rejection stung, but she swallowed the lump in her throat, determined not to let it show. "Do you want to talk about your day? Or maybe—"

"Can you just stop?" His words sliced through the room, sharp and sudden, and it felt like a slap.

Her heart sank. "Stop what?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

He opened his eyes, his jaw tight as he stared at her. "This. Hovering. Trying to talk when I don’t want to. You’re always… there. I just need some peace, okay?"

She stood frozen, the weight of his words crashing down on her. "I… I’m just trying to be here for you, Kenan," she said, her voice trembling.

"Well, maybe I don’t need that right now," he snapped, running a hand through his hair. "Maybe I need you to give me some space."

The words hit harder than than expected, and she took a step back, her arms wrapping around herself as if to shield from the sudden cold between them. "Space," she repeated, the word catching in her throat.

He sighed, rubbing his temples. "I’m just tired, okay? I’ve had a terrible day, and I don’t have the energy for this."

She nodded slowly, blinking back tears. "Okay," she whispered. "I’ll… give you space."

Without another word, she turned and walked away, her heart heavy with all the hurt she kept in.

She could feel his gaze on her back for a moment before the sound of the television filled the room, drowning out the silence that screamed louder than any argument ever could.

Days had passed and she pulled back. It wasn’t intentional at first—it was self-preservation.

Sue stopped waiting at the door for him, stopped trying to talk to him when he came home. She became quieter, less present.

Where once she filled the silence with stories and laughter, now she simply jusy existed.

Kenan noticed. At first, he thought he had finally gotten what he wanted: space. But as the days stretched on, the emptiness began to gnaw at him. The house felt cold, her absence glaringly obvious even when she was just a room away.

He came home one evening to find her sitting at the kitchen table, staring blankly at her untouched dinner. She didn’t even look up when he entered.

"Hey," he said softly, his voice hesitant.

"Hey," she replied without emotion, her gaze fixed on her plate.

The lifelessness in her voice hit him like a punch to the gut. "Did you eat?"

She shook her head. "Not really hungry."

He frowned, stepping closer. "Is everything okay?"

She laughed bitterly, the sound hollow. "I could ask you the same thing."

He hesitated, the guilt bubbling to the surface. "I’ve been a jerk, haven’t I?"

She didn’t respond immediately, her fingers tracing the edge of her fork. "You told me I was too much," she said quietly. "So I decided to be less."

His heart sank at her words, the weight of his actions crashing down on him. "I didn’t mean it," he said, his voice breaking. "I was angry and frustrated, and I took it out on you. But I never meant that."

She finally looked at him, her eyes filled with hurt. "You said it, though. And it’s all I’ve been able to hear since."

He knelt beside her, reaching for her hands. "I’m sorry," he whispered, his voice trembling. "I’ve been so caught up in my own stress that I didn’t see how much I was hurting you. You’re not too much—you’re everything I need. And I’ve been pushing you away like an idiot."

Tears welled in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. "Do you even realize how hard it is to feel like you’re a burden to the person you love most?"

His grip on her hands tightened, his own tears threatening to spill. "You’re not a burden. You’re my world, and I’ve been too blind to see how much I was taking you for granted. Please, give me a chance to fix this. I’ll do anything."

She searched his face, looking for the sincerity she needed to see. When she found it, the tears she'd been holding back finally fell. "You really hurt me, Kenan," she said softly.

"I know, I'm sorry" he whispered, pulling her into his arms. "I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you."

my taglist: @barcapix @paucubarsisimp @spidybaby @mxryxmfooty (lmk if you want to be added!!)

[acid-ixx]

last night, i just had a terrible nightmare where someone sent in a really long ask that was straight up hating and criticizing every part of my writing. calling out the insecurities/faults, plot inconsistencies, and insulting my writing style—

which i admit: yeah, it's wordy and really long, sometimes i focus too much on one scene or on the emotions solely, and i focus on every single detail; i'm a very emotional and hypersensitive person who likes to overanalyze on the scenes and characters. i acknowledge that it's unconventional and unprofessional at times; but it's what makes me happy and it's up to readers to continue reading or not despite the length. it's my own writing, i write content for free and everything i post are indulgent on my part, hence why i explicitly state i don't really wish for constructive criticism since again, it's all for free and it's all done for fun.

though, in that dream, it came to the point where the ask straight up told me i should just quit writing, that whatever i'm writing for is utter trash (overrated, it says. there are better writers out there and, yeah, i agree. i've the passion and drive but not so much for talent) and not worth the effort to read. so i did what was told and deactivated my account and went on to never write anymore fanfics after just how shaken up i was, then i woke up HAHAHAH.

and it genuinely felt so real, ngl. i couldn't get it off of my mind even until now, so here i am rambling about it. sorry if anyone expected me to post a drabble, or a fanfic; but right now i need more time to ponder upon whether or not i should change my writing style 'cause chapter five pt 2 will be posted soon but it's longer and who knows? maybe my worst nightmare may come true if i post it and it's subpar, not up to expectation.

and if people don't really wish for something long that borders on boring or filler scenes, then maybe, maybe not i will change how i write (but i probably won't lmao). either way, i have to remind myself that i am writing for myself, and posting it to simply archive in this account. i just hope people won't be as cruel as that mystery person in my dreams if i ever do

it's genuinely the audience's choice to read my works or not if the length or style bothers them. and as entitled as i may sound, i wish to remind some that writing a chapter with more than 10k words is my choice, and it's an arduous process too that takes hours of my time. writing fanfics is for me is purely indulgent and are reflections of my real life experiences, if it's lengthy, then yes i chose it to be, but it's not like i'm writing a thesis or an essay, i'm writing a goddamn fanfic with stereotypical tropes (most especially yandere) because it what makes me enjoy my passion as an author.

i apologize again for the long ramble, i really just need this out of my thoughts. this is my own blog too so yeah 😭. if you guys follow me solely for my fanfics, then filter out the "🍨... yael's talking" tag if you wish to avoid these types of talks.

[soapcloth]

Fantasy au -> Warrior!Soap x Healer!Reader

CW: 18+ MDNI, light bloodplay, noncon undertones, dacryphilia if you squint

not edited - 800 words - dividers -> @/cafekitsune

You’ve had just about enough of that axe-swinging asshole, built like an ox and thrice as stubborn.

You’re absolutely beside yourself asking why you’re sticking it out in his half-baked party. John, as he had practically breathed the name down your neck, couldn’t keep a decent healer and now you know all too well why. He was mean, smelly, loud, and worst of all- overly familiar despite your best efforts to stamp out any flame of acquaintanceship. You could write ballads dedicated to reasons you should leave this party, but truth be told? You were down on your luck. You wondered sometimes if you were cursed with misfortune, a hilariously horrid timeline of events leading you to this very position right now. So you’ve made a few mistakes, hasn’t everyone in the pursuit of dungeon crawling?

Even so, was the state of your freelance healing career really so bad that you had to saddle up with someone like John MacTavish? The man had been naught more than a trail thief brute-forcing his way into other parties’ treasure a few years ago, but because of a few lucky encounters in monster slaying, suddenly he was picking up jobs in adventurer hubs like it was something he was born to do. It pissed you off to no end and he knew it. Loved seeing your indignant scowl while you healed him up knowing better work was near impossible for you to come by.

“Och- that’s it, ‘m sore there.” He’d groaned, humid breath fanning your skin, god, why was he always so close? “Gonna show me that pretty glow, lamb?”

“No.” You bit, rubbing the salve a touch deeper than needed. Your lips twitched seeing his eyebrows draw tight. “It’s not so bad that you need healing, stop being a baby.”

The man snorted in response. “That’s why no other parties’ll take ye on, lamb.” His deep blue eyes searched your own, a wild smirk twisting across his mouth. “Terrible bedside manner.” You flushed slightly, shooting him a sharp glare that caused him to lean back on his makeshift fallen and rotted log seat with a pleased grin as he inspected his wound. Like the ever-expressive man he was, his face suddenly took on a shade of concern. “Ach-!”

“Huh?” Was all you could muster, confused as to what he could be so worried about.

“Think I got nicked by something venomous, lamb, need yer healing.” He seethed out. “Oh for- let me see.” You sighed, grabbing his uselessly huge hand. As expected, his palm was fine, albeit still a bit bloody as the salve worked to stop it.

Wrong move.

Upon inspecting his wound, the adventurer managed to shove his palm into your face with a vicious grin, huffing through his nose a bit as he smeared blood across your mouth. Sputtering only invited the acrid taste of bitter salve, sweat, and copper onto your tastebuds as he laughed and continued to wipe his hand across your face. “See?” He chuckled “M’still hurt.” His eyes seemed to glisten like the northern stormy coast seeing his own blood on your skin. “Suits you.”

You pushed his hand away, misinterpreting his words in a way that scratched at a sore spot of your own. “I didn’t kill them, John! Stop holding that over my head!” You snarled, causing his eyes to widen a fraction. You wiped his blood off your face with your arm, only to smear it around more and get it on the limb. Great. It was then you realized you had a runny nose as well, were you starting to cry? “I fucked up- but my god, they lived, okay?” And now you couldn’t get a gig better than this one because of that fact, a voice in the back of your head snarked. It’s true too, they made sure no party worth its salt would ever take you on. You still have no idea why John did either in all honesty, for all his faults and the high turnover rate, he had a seemingly bottomless fount of healers willing to take a shot at being the one to stick.

John cupped your cheeks. “None of tha’.” He spoke lowly. One of his calloused thumbs swiped at an emerging tear before it could fall and you had to watch, mouth slightly agape as he brought the pad of his thumb to his lips without much thought, tongue darting out to taste. You blinked as he clapped that hand down on your shoulder, leaning closer. “None of tha’…” he repeated, quieter this time. He looked so focused. “Dinnae give a shit about those no-names, lamb, neither should you.”

You swallowed audibly when met with his intensity, his voice a rolling growl. “Fuck- seeing ye all covered in my blood’s got me stiffer than a rock. Palm’s busted and you won’t heal me. Cannae do a thing about it, feel like ah’m gonna-“

“I can heal your hand.” You urged, the oppressive haze he left you with suddenly lifting.

He snorted in response. “Though so, lamb.” His palm connected with your hair, ruffling his blood into your locks before moving down to pat your cheek. “What a dutiful healer ye’ are… So good te’ me. Let me see tha’ gorgeous glow.”

[gyubakeries]

❆ 𝐠𝐲𝐮𝐛𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 : 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐬! ❆ | 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐮 - 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 <𝟑

❆ 𝑑𝑎𝑦 11: christmas movie marathon | b.sk

a/n: welcome to day 11! i hope you've liked the series so far 💗 only two more to go!

word count: 1k contents: seungkwan x gn!reader , established relationship , movie marathon , seungkwan loves vanessa hudgens because i love her , im making them watch princess switch because i CAN , fluff , arguing over ridiculous plot points

"i am so ready to sleep for the rest of the weekend," seungkwan yawns as he dries the last plate and puts it away. "this week has been so exhausting."

"but we planned the movie marathon for tonight!" you suddenly remember. "you can't sleep today, unfortunately."

"can't we just do it tomorrow?" seungkwan groans loudly, flopping onto the ground for dramatic effect.

"i planned everything out though," you pout, knowing that it was seungkwan's weakness. but when even that didn't seem to convince him, you decided to pull out the big guns.

"alright, i guess we just won't see vanessa hudgens' performance in the movie then," you sigh, feigning disappointment.

at the mention of vanessa hudgens, seungkwan instantly rises from the floor to hold you by the hand and drag you to the living room.

"we're watching that movie. put it on," he declares, expression solemn, and you can't help but let out a laugh at seeing how quickly his mind changed.

you turn on the TV and open Netflix to find the movie while simultaneously snuggling up in seungkwan's side, the two of you covered by a blanket to keep you warm.

seungkwan's hand finds yours naturally under the blanket, and you smile to yourself.

—

when you said vanessa hudgens, seungkwan was expecting a great film like tick, tick boom, or even high school musical.

the princess switch was neither.

it wasn't a terrible movie; it had all the necessary plot points needed for a good christmas movie—love, joy, healing, and the value of family.

but seungkwan really just can't get past one thing.

"how did kevin not know that it wasn't stacy?" he exclaims. "he's her best friend!"

"margaret looks exactly like stacy!" you point out. "there's a reason their plan worked."

"but it's- it doesn't even make sense," seungkwan points at the screen, where the movie is paused at the end credits. "i get that prince edward didn't realize that stacy wasn't margaret, but kevin should have known!"

"it's just a movie seungkwan," you sigh. "did you really not like it at all?"

seungkwan can see how your face fell a little with his constant bickering over insignificant plot details, and he felt a little bad. he leans back into the couch to take you in his arms.

"of course not, it is vanesa hudgens after all," he shakes his head. "i loved the movie. i don't know why the plot seemed so absurd to me when i've literally watched the kissing booth."

both of you shudder at the name of the movie, recollecting just how bad that actually was.

"anyways, if you're really feeling tired, we can just stop here for the night," you suggest, noticing how seungkwan's eyes were drooping halfway through the movie.

"wait, there's more?" seungkwan asks, not expecting a continuation to the first movie.

"yeah, it's a whole trilogy," you smile as you explain. "and guess what? they have a third twin too. well, triplet, i guess, but you know what i mean."

"you're telling me there's three vanessa hudgens in the movie?" seungkwan raises an eyebrow, barely holding back the celebrity crush in his tone. "yeah, we're watching all three movies right now."

before you start up the next movie in the series, seungkwan quickly heads over to the kitchen to make some popcorn and fetch the huge tub of ice-cream you bought from the store for the two of you to share.

"you got cookies 'n cream?" seungkwan called out from the kitchen, and you could already hear the complaint in his voice. "you know i like butterscotch more!"

"well, i wanted cookies 'n cream," you answer, laughing at seungkwan's grumbling. "this is revenge for when you stuffed the entire freezer full of butterscotch ice-cream and didn't let me buy cookies 'n cream till all of it was over."

seungkwan magically appears next to you then, popcorn and ice-cream carefully balanced in his arms.

"in my defense, i was going through long-distance friendship with vernon," seungkwan mumbles, setting the bowl of popcorn down on the coffee table and handing you a spoon for the ice-cream. "i needed the ice-cream to deal with the heartbreak." you laugh to yourself, remembering the time seungkwan's best friend, vernon, had gone on a two-week holiday, leaving seungkwan to work alone at the bakery they owned together.

"he was gone for two weeks," you roll your eyes jokingly. "you were just sad because you wouldn't have anyone to bother while you were at work."

"stop attacking me like that! i'm your boyfriend!" seungkwan nags, and you give him a short kiss to placate him. he immediately breaks into a smile, and you giggle at how much of a drama queen he is.

due to seungkwan's impatience, the next movie is loaded up, and your boyfriend is much more invested in the movie this time. you watch with an amused smile as he keeps his eyes trained on the screen, shoving spoons of ice-cream in his mouth while yelling at characters when they do stupid things.

before you know it, the credits of the third movie is rolling and you didn't even realize that you'd just stared at seungkwan the entire time. you grow flustered when he turns to face you and says, "that ending was amazing, right?"

you nod in agreement, not even having the slightest idea of what the ending was. "it was really good. i told you that you'd like it."

"yeah, i guess you were right," seungkwan admits, leaning back on the couch. both of you look down at the half-empty tub of ice-cream sitting between you two, and think the same thought. seungkwan is the one who says it loud.

"should we finish it? or save it for later?"

"yeah, we're finishing it now," you grin excitedly, already digging your spoon back into the tub.

(the night is spent discussing movies and fangirling over various actors, and you fall in love with seungkwan a little bit more with every passing second.

you can only wish for the two of you to spend many more nights like this as your heart melts like the cookies 'n cream ice-cream you two share on the couch.)

- fin.

divider made by @bernardsbendystraws !

main taglist: @min-imum @sousydive @livelaughloveseventeen @unlikelysublimekryptonite @theidontknowmehn

@baseball-dokyeom @t-102 @aaa-sia @cixrosie @4shypotato

series taglist in comments!

comment on this post to be tagged on the upcoming fics!

head to the series masterlist - here <3

head to the masterlist for more!

[talk-danmei-to-me]

Mo Ran and Promiscuity

A.k.a he’s actually conflated promiscuity with having a high sex drive.

Because I’m procrastinating and it’s been ages since I wrote a good bl meta. All references relevant up to the end of vol 7.

The opening of vol 1 informs us that Mo Ran has a massive cock (true) and is renowned throughout the pleasure districts for being an exceptional lay (lies).

Why do I think this is lies? A) it’s coming from Mo Ran’s perspective which is always a little bit skewed.

B) Literally nothing that canonically happens insinuates Mo Ran has ever shagged around the pleasure districts.

Let’s deep dive!

- Who has Mo Ran actually slept with?

Early doors, the impression of Mo Ran burning his money in brothels comes from the uptight, definitely has no repressed urges or issues linked to Mei Hanxue, Xue Meng.

Xue Meng who was everyone’s first choice to fight the lust gourd. I do not think he is a voice of authority for the promiscuous.

In reality, yes Mo Ran is burning his money in brothels, but on (1) prostitute who he intends to buy freedom for. Mo Ran is basically in his Pretty Woman era.

And then obviously you have Chu Wanning who in the past Mo Ran was fucking seven times a day in seven different places, and in the current timeline pretty much as often as they can get away with.

Speaking of Chu Wanning… it could be argued that Mo Ran was going brothel hopping after he died, but he was also using his spiritual energy to keep his body perfectly preserved and spending every night talking to his corpse, so when did he have the time?

I guess he also slept with Song Qiutong, but then he pied her off on their wedding night and later turned her into soup so… probably doesn’t count.

Next point!

- Mo Ran’s game

I adore Mo Ran, he is my favourite danmei boy and probably a top 5 protagonist of all time. BUT to say he is meant to be this renowned lothario… his game… it’s terrible. Awful. His lines and his chat are so cringe, it’s adorable and for some reason Chu Wanning eats them up but that is the only way they work. And I guess the readers eat it up because Ranwan is compelling.

In the real world, Mo Ran is not seducing anyone else with his lines. 1.0/2.0 Mo Ran should have the memories of brothel hopping so I would expect his chat to be much better.

So what is the point of Mo Ran’s alleged promiscuity?

I’m wondering if it’s a side effect of the flower. Obviously it warps everything to hate, but for Mo Ran it’s seems to have warped his feelings for Chu Wanning into sexual obsession with fleeting glimpses of love (in the 0.5 timeline). So, I’m wondering if since his memories are all to pot, that also means he’s warped his desires into thinking he’s sleeping around when he’s not. Case in point, Taxian-jun was only concerned with Mo Ran fucking Chu Wanning when he saw him again and the fact that he hadn’t literally broke his brain.

I really want to do a re-read to find all the times Taxian-jun slips up where it comes to how much he hates loves Chu Wanning because it’s clearly there. It’s the reason I love the last chapter of vol 7 so much. There’s so much going on beneath the surface.

Like honestly, I think if you compared Mo Ran’s body count with other promiscuous bl protagonists they would laugh at him. Man is just super horny and talks himself up. And from a narrative viewpoint even then I think it’s just to spark jealous Chu Wanning.

[ilikekidsshows]

This is related to something mentioned on one of your asks (apologies if you did talk about it and I just didn't understand) but do you think calling Adrien a sexual harasser is comparable to calling Marinette a bad leader in terms of criticizing characters?

--

This is literally what I meant with my big rant on people who use “it's all just bad writing” to sweep aside bigger and bigger problems with the show. We're all used to excusing some level of bad writing from this show, but, like, usually people have a threshold for how much bullshit they're willing to swallow. I could excuse Cat Noir not getting the hint, just like I could excuse Marinette following Adrien everywhere and knowing his schedule (this is the actual equivalent point of comparison). They were quirky about it. Ladynoir was mutually flirty even if Cat Noir was too serious with it sometimes, and Marinette's nonsense was often funny. I mostly treated the stalker/harasser takes as opinions. I could see why people would view the characters that way, but I could see enough outside it to look past it. It was beneath my bullshit threshold.

“Marinette does practically everything wrong on screen but we praise her for things she didn't do so she did everything right actually” is past my bullshit threshold. You can't show the exact opposite of what you mean on screen and then claim something different is going on. Ladybug treats her teammates with different expectations, her rules are situational and conditional, she picks favorites, she keeps valuable information from her teammates, making it harder for them to do their jobs. Her failures directly lead to bad consequences. But, because she cried about it and was instantly forgiven while taking no steps to improve, that means she's actually the greatest superhero and leader ever. Like, that's a big plate full of bullshit and I’m done eating it.

Also, like, we really need to take the level of my personal betrayal into account when it comes to willingness to swallow bullshit. Like, Marinette being a bad leader and a terrible hero wouldn't bother me nearly as much if she wasn't also an abuse apologist. Marinette, when faced with the choice between doing what Adrien's abuser wanted and considering literally anyone else's opinion on what Adrien might need or want, picked the abuser’s opinion. Marinette picked Adrien's abuser over him. Like, if that hadn't happened, I wouldn't be near this angry. If Astruc hadn't smugly tweeted about how perfectly this decision ties in with her choice in The Bubbler, retroactively ruining one of my favorite episodes for me, I wouldn't be looking back at all of Marinette's failings and seeing how they led her to that moment. The writers practically invited me to do so. Even fans who still adore the show and Marinette think Marinette turning to abuse apologia makes sense. A lot of Marinette's character flaws lead to her making that choice.

Stalking Adrien > disregard towards Adrien's personhood > not considering what Adrien would want when she makes excuses for Gabriel

Lying/secret-keeping > constantly keeping things from people when the truth makes her uncomfortable or look bad > lies about Gabriel because she thinks it will make Adrien's emotional reaction less volatile

Repeatedly insisting kids are safe with their parents regardless of evidence to the contrary > discounting victims’ testimonies > trusting Gabriel's opinion on how Adrien should be treated

Unequal leadership > treating people as objects to be controlled instead of equals to negotiate with > thinking she even has the right to lie to Adrien about his dad

As you can see, a lot of the patterns of Marinette's flaws lean on attitudes that explain almost too perfectly why Marinette would trust Adrien's confirmed abuser's opinion on things relating to Adrien, even when she sees the sensory deprivation chamber Gabriel put Adrien in. Almost all of the bad writing choices regarding Marinette now connect to one of the worst, if not the worst, moments of the entire series so far. And, because it's all so interconnected and all-encopassing to Marinette's character now that I can't just ignore it. I can't ignore any part of it. The writers are making me question Marinette's integrity all the way back in the first season, because many of her flaws were already established from the start of the series.

In addition to all this, Miraculous functions on Protagonist-Centered Morality, aka, the things the protagonist does are meant to be seen as the morally good thing to do or at least a valid choice even when the consequences are "unexpectedly" bad. Adrien’s “harassment” is never framed as the right way to act, but Marinette’s abuse apologia, disrespect of Adrien’s personhood and abuses of power as team leader are all treated as morally being on the same ground as not doing those things. “Lying to him or telling him the truth will lead to very different consequences with their share of happy and sad moments,” my ass.

Adrien being a sexual harasser, Marinette being a stalker, Marinette being a bad leader and hero and Marinette’s abuse apologia are all bad writing, but not all bad writing is written equally bad, if you catch my drift.

[sp00kymulderr]

giddy up jingle horse

Dieter Bravo x reader

Part three of wrapped up in you

Summary: You’re not feeling festive, so Dieter decides to help you find your Christmas spirit

Words: 1.2k

Tags/warnings: 18+, Christmas, references to sex, sex toys, pet play adjacent but not really. One clown mention. Reader should be gender neutral, reader referred to as baby and cookie. I wrote this on my phone and haven’t edited so I’m sorry for awful mistakes.

A/N: Happy Christmas to those who celebrate. This is my gift to the wonderful members of the @dieterbravobrainrotclub over on discord. I love you guys so much. Enjoy some terrible, unhinged, festive Dieter

As the flight status changes from delayed to cancelled, your Christmas spirit goes with it.

It was the last straw in a year of bad luck, and now just a few days before the big day you had absolutely no interest in celebrating anything festive if you couldn’t do it in Lapland with nothing but you and Dieter and the little cabin under the stars.

Dieter who made an actual effort to not only be with you for a decent amount of time this year but had booked the vacation especially for you. He knew what your year had been like, and he knew you needed to get away, and Dieter always did what he could to make sure you would get what you wanted. Especially at his favourite time of year.

You'd never expected him to be the Christmas loving type, given his interest in all kinds of new age things and his rejection of tradition so completely, but he had explained to you early on that when growing up he had spent many festive seasons with his Grandma and it was her absolute favourite time of year. For him, celebrating was honouring her.

Of course his celebrations these days were a little different, certainly not the wholesome family holidays he’d grown up on. Some of the efforts he went to to get you both in the holiday mood included sexy santa outfits and christmas themed sex toys and that whole thing last year where he'd gift wrapped his cock for you and also gifted you an exact replica of it. He had really made Christmas his own, and made sure to make those he’d spent with you as memorable as possible.

Unfortunately now all his efforts were falling undone with the last minute cancellation of the trip you’d been so desperately looking forward to for months.

"You okay cookie?” He asks, sitting on the side of the bed as you resign yourself to unpacking the suitcase that had been ready to go for a week.

"I’m…I’m just…" You sigh, throwing the cute snow boots to the back of the wardrobe so you don’t have to look at them again “We were going to see real snow! And reindeer! I was so excited about meeting those reindeer”

The reindeer experience had been a special add on, and the moment Dieter realised how much you’d wanted to do it he’d shelled out for a VIP option.

"I'll be fine" You muster the best smile you can, hoping it's true and youll find some of that merry feeling you had a few days ago. You don't stop him from coming over to wrap his arms around you, stopping you from fussing with the suitcase as he held you in a long hug and kissed your forehead gently. Your sweet man.

"You will...I'll find a way" Dieter says, set with determination.

***

It's two days later when he comes to you all mischievous and grinning like he's done something either incredibly good or incredibly stupid. You guess a mixture of both, that’s usually how it goes.

He's holding a small box in his hand, his eyebrow quirked and a dopey grin as he holds it out to you.

"Merry Christmas, cookie"

You take the box and give him a quizzical look. You don't do presents on Christmas eve, but Dieter just nods and waits for you to open it.

You open the box, which within it holds....something red. You're not actually sure what it is.

"Um..." You say as you pick the thing up. It's round, and red, and has a slot on the back.

A red nose? What the fuck…

”Dieter I don’t…is this another sex thing? Do you want me to dress up as a clown again?”

Dieter chuckles, an enthusiastic smile on his face, but he shakes his head.

”I love your sexy clown look baby, but not this time. This,” He yoinks the red nose from your hand and slots it onto his nose. With a squeeze, the nose glows bright, illuminating him in a red glow “This is for me…well, it’s for you too. But it’s for me to wear. Hold on, give me a sec”

You are no less confused by his response, and when he disappears into the next room you stand exactly where he left you confused and not sure what to expect.

“Okay come in here, cookie!” Dieter calls out after a moment and you follow his voice, for better or worse. You know whatever you’re about to find is going to be another unforgettable Christmas memory at least.

“Oh…”

The living room is covered in fake snow. A projector bathes the room in a starry glow, aurora swirling on the ceiling.

“…my god” you shake with sudden laughter at what you see next.

In the middle of the room is Dieter. On all fours. Wearing his teddy coat, the red nose and the very same antler headband with jingly bells on he’d worn last year when he’d fucked you under the tree. He’s pretending to graze, neighing and whinnying softly when you enter the makeshift reindeer pen.

“Dee…” you can’t help the snort of laughter when he gives you an extremely offended look, shakes his head, and points at the red nose.

“Right, sorry. Rudolph. What the fuck are you doing?!”

He simply points to the sign hung up on the wall - ‘VIP reindeer experience’ - before going back to his very serious and accurate portrayal of Santas favourite animal.

It’s sweet, really. It’s…a little weird, but it’s definitely sweet. He’s trying to bring the failed vacation to you, he’s trying to give you some of that experience you were so looking forward to. Your guess is he tried to get a real reindeer and couldn’t, so instead he decided to put his Oscar winning performing to use. The least you can do is play along, and you have to admit the efforts are elevating your festive spirit a little already.

He’s set everything up, including the carrots for you to feed him. You can’t stop laughing. Giggling and smiling more than you have all week.

“You’re so ridiculous, Rudolph” You murmur with a smile as you pet him and offer him a carrot which he happily chews the end of.

It’s when he tells you to ‘hop on’, spoken out the corner of his mouth so not to ruin the illusion, that you lose it completely.

“Dee, baby, I don’t think they let people ride the reindeers”

“I’m not like the others” He smirks, twinkle of mischief still playing in those deep eyes “You can ride me all night long”

He manages one lap around the room with you gingerly sat atop him before you both collapse on to the floor.

“All those sacks of presents, pulling that sleigh around…Rudolph has a bad fucking back” He wheezes out, groaning and reaching for you, pulling you into his side and laughing into your hair and bumping the red nose off onto the floor in the process.

“Merry Christmas baby, I’m sorry this is the best I could do. We’ll get to Lapland next year, I promise”

“This was perfect. You’re perfect, you lunatic. Thank you for making me smile, Dee. Seriously” You respond, hand sliding beneath the coat and onto his bare chest, as you kiss his cheek.

“One thing though,” You say, standing up with a cheeky smile of your own, leaving him alone for a moment before you come back to the room,

“You’re missing something”

You hold up the plug, fluffy tail attached to the flared base of it.

“Let’s put on your tail, Rudolph, then we’ll see about riding you all night long”

[misc-obeyme]

prompt: Simeon & Michael

a/n: I'm back! Did you miss me?? I still have a bandage that makes typing annoying, but I'm pushing through it because I can't go this long without writing and the ideas plague me so. Anyway, here's what the wheel gave me today! Michael is only mentioned. I'm also not caught up on the latest lessons, so I consider this to be taking place somewhere in seasons one or two of OG. @om-adventcalendar

Simeon x GN!MC

Warnings: none!

You made your way through the Christmas market, a thing that had popped up unexpectedly when the denizens of the Devildom had gotten into the swing of celebrating. It was set up with booths and stalls in the street, some food vendors and others selling trinkets for last minute gift giving. It was cold, with a light snow just beginning to fall through the darkness.

The lights and sounds of the market were all around you, festive colors and cheerful music creating a joyful atmosphere. You would never really get used to the idea of demons celebrating Christmas like this, but you appreciated that they were getting into the spirit of it.

And then you spotted him. He was always impossible to miss with that soft brown hair, the white of his outfit, and the unmistakable glow that seemed to surround him. He stood in the snow, the flakes melting as soon as they touched him, his eyes focused on a stall nearby.

You hastened to his side. "Simeon?"

Simeon turned to you and smiled. It was like a beam of warmth penetrating your soul. "There you are, MC," he said.

"Sorry," you said. "Have you been waiting long?"

"Not at all," Simeon said.

He offered you his arm and you immediately linked yours with his.

"Were you looking for something specific?" you asked, eyeing the booth that Simeon had been staring at.

Simeon guided you down the street. "I was thinking about buying some Devildom sweets to send back to Michael."

You were used to hearing this. It was something that Luke was often concerned with too. "What did you have in mind?"

Simeon paused at a booth. "I don't know," he admitted. "A lot of this appears to be the Devildom's attempt at creating human world holiday treats. Do you have any suggestions for something traditional?"

You considered the question, your eyes roaming over the display cases in front of you. It was a bakery booth, full of various pastries that were likely stuffed to the brim with weird Devildom ingredients.

Then your eyes fell upon what looked suspiciously like a fruit cake. That could certainly be considered a classic dessert. Everyone you knew either loved it or hated it.

You pointed it out to Simeon. "That looks like a fruit cake," you said. "It's pretty traditional."

When you stepped up to the counter, the demon behind it asked if they could help you.

"What kind of fruit is in this?" Simeon asked, gesturing to the fruit cake.

"Oh, only the highest quality bloodberries, devil crush mangoes, shadow oranges, and of course snowman's sigh!" the demon said enthusiastically.

It wasn't exactly the human world medley of fruits, but that was to be expected. You didn't think it sounded terrible.

"You know, I think this might work," Simeon said. "Can I get a box of them, please?"

Simeon carried a bag away from the booth as the two of you went back to wandering the market. It was a pleasant evening. You stopped for hot chocolate, sitting together under an awning and watching the snow fall. You loved the way Simeon's eyes brightened at the first sip of the sweet drink.

"Do you miss the Celestial Realm?" you asked.

Simeon seemed surprised by your question. "A little," he said. "Why do you ask?"

"You're always thinking about things to get for Michael," you said. "I thought maybe it was because you miss him and your home."

Simeon chuckled. "I do miss them," he said. "But not enough to leave you here in the Devildom without me."

You met his gaze at that and noted the playful look in his eyes. You couldn't help smiling, even as you felt the heat in your cheeks. "You wouldn't miss me that much, would you?"

Simeon reached out and brushed his gloved fingers against your temple. "MC, I would miss you like angels miss the stars."

Your heart skipped a beat. You put your hand over his and leaned your face into his warm touch. "Then I suppose you'll just have to stay here, with me."

Simeon kissed your cheek, spreading warmth throughout you. "Happily."

You leaned back, trying to get your pulse to settle a bit. You took a sip of your hot chocolate and changed the subject. "You'll have to let me know how Michael likes that fruit cake," you said.

Simeon smiled. "I'll be sure to report back."

You couldn't help imagining Michael in the Celestial Realm, whatever he even looked like, taking a big bite of a Devildom style fruit cake. For some reason, you found this to be a very entertaining vision.

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[fynnlink]

First of all: Thanks and Merry Christmas / Happy Holidays to you too.

My first response was to your framing it as not having any answers to the points you brought not that said answers maybe weren't satisfying or "enough".

And I in no way mean to argue against your "being pissed off" since it's a valid opinion especially if you like Aaravos a lot. So if I in turn offended you I apologise; I merely mean to discuss and engage with the media.

Now on to the important stuff:

I agree wholeheartedly with the point regarding "external" material (outside of the main series) but I think one of the issues TDP suffers from most is too much lore/story having to be squeezed into short, 9 episode seasons which is a shame as the world building is my favourite part of the series. Thus the need to use other ways to communicate parts of the story or lore. (The image of Ziard for example and the monologue/story attached to it are freely accessible but the point stands)

Having certain expectations even "high" ones is of course more than justified and feeling upset/unsatisfied when those expectations aren't met is too. There are quite a few plotlines which have developed in a specific way or not developed at all, that have disappointed me after waiting for answers since 2018. (Damn I've started this series at 14. That hiatus, seriously, never again please)

When exactly did Zubeia say that? Or are you referring to her lines in S4 E4? Because I wouldn't call the results of Aaravos' actions/involvement before his imprisonment Revolutions but rather Civil Wars / Unrest and I think her line "A Startouch Elf, one of the Great Ones, respected and loved by all until we discovered long-hidden treachery." is more of general statement than referring to her and the Archdragons. And the crime he was punished for was being responsible for Queen Aditi's disappearance (though no one knew what exactly happened to her until Aaravos told Khessa and then Janai found out) thus causing the tensions between the Elves and Dragons to boil over and also depriving the Archdragons from ending their succession conflict peacefully. (I'm hoping that if we get Act 3 we finally actually learn about the Orphan Queen.)

As to the severity of Aaravos' punishment it is quite literally the only punishment pissible as murdering him would've just had him return at a later point and imprisoning him in any other way would be nigh important due to his immense power both in terms of magical ability and persuasiveness manipulation.

I wholehearted agree that the involvement of both the Orphan Queen and the Jailer is less than adequately explained. Like you said it makes little sense to 1) believe a random human who at the time was probably young too and 2) to entrust the entire imprisonment process to another human one who was supposedly very mysterious. It would also be interesting to know whether or not the Jailer used Dark Magic or just other means like a primal stone or inanimate objects like gemstomes.

I don't think Aaravos had enough power (as in political influence not magic) to do anything against Sol Regem overtly. As even back then Anak Arao was THE dragon prince (Aaravos calls him that in S6 E9) so one of his parents was mostly likely the current regent during Leola's childhood 2000+ years ago. And back then Aaravos seemed to live a humble(r) life away from the heavens on earth with Leola and had no sway on the council. (Though it is interesting that The Merciful One apparently cared enough about Aaravos to comfort him above the Sea of the Castout). The entire story isn't resolved but Aaravos playing the long game was him drawing it out. He, at least in part, is responsible for humans learning dark magic and thus for Ziard "blinding" Sol Regem, Aaravos was also probably involved in whatever caused Sol Regem to get angry enough to indirectly kill Aithne Solaire as Aaravos even knew about it. This to me at least is reminiscent of Aaravos' incredible quote about surviving such a terrible wound (losing a loved one) and thus suffering forever. Aaravos didn't directly attack or kill Sol Regem to prolong the Archdragon's suffering and since he knew how to easily manipulate and use Sol Regem to further his own plans. Never throw away something that could one day prove useful. It took barely any work to get Karim to do exactly what Aaravos wanted and then to use Pharos to direct Sol Regem against Katolis, Viren and Aaravos' imprisonment. (A bonus benefit which in my opinion Aaravos also planned for is that this further turned Claudia on this "dark path" when she was just beginning to question/regret it)

Personally I don't think Aaravos' line was supposed to single out Zubeia from the other Archdragons as the only/main one to BETRAY Aaravos. Both the Archdragons and Aaravos call what happened back then a betrayal (Rex Igneous' line about "Not long enough, Betrayer") the Archdragons for Aaravos' manipulations and Aaravos for the imprisonment. It's simply that she's the only one who was involved when he says it and he's addressing her and not the others in the beginning of his conversations via posessed Callum. And Zubeia has proven she's ready and willing to fight when necessary (the standoff with Rex Igneous, her fighting against the corrupted Banthers in the great bookery and her attacking Aaravos in the finale)

When does he differentiate between Zubeia and the other Archdragons, he has the lines about Zubeia being "ravishing" but back when he tells Viren about Avizandum imprisoning him him only mentioning Avizandum is, in my opinion, just the series trying to keep it simple and even in a watsonian sense Viren proved just moments prior that the names of the Archdragons aren't known to him. And he does seem to enjoy her suffering by making her face Avizandum in the finale.

Regarding the Staff of Ziard that's why I amended that Aaravos had taken the Staff not necessarily that he had stolen it.

I think the Starscraper might function as the Star Nexus and thus draws in a semi-religious following and it's made up of other Elves since the Startouch Elves "don't intervene" which is probably what inspired that part of the Celestial Elves' culture. As to why it's Skywing Elves, earlier it was said that only winged Skywing Elves live there before they changed it. Again in lore this change probably happened because some elves at the Starscraper were born without wings. But yes it is something they could expand upon hopefully if Astrid sticks around the Dragang.

There was at least one more Startouch Elf around during the division of Xadia and expulsion of the humans to the east. (Visible in the opening of S1 E1 next to what is either Queen Aditi or her daughter. And they look distinctively different from Aaravos)

100% agree. Elarion has fascinated me since the poem was first translated and has only grown more and more interesting since. It's probably too big/important and needs to be the main focus. I think Claudia's final scene might be near Elarion since it's the same place as the S4-S7 intro sequence and the mountain range and sky full of stars and nebulae looks like the one from the scene of Aaravos crying over (creating it) the Sea of the Castout.

I don't view it as the finale of the series just of the act and season. Both the way it ended and the fandom's reaction is exactly the same as when Miraculous' fifth season ended. If you view it as a Series Finale not a Season Finale then yes it leaves certain storylines and plotpoints unresolved but whether they continue the story via more seasons or novels, etc the story isn't over.

Which is not to say you're not allowed to disagree. Art and Stories and their interpretation are up to any who behold them. It's just a matter of viewing it as an end for now rather then a complete end. And since Act 3 has been planned for a while I don't judge the story without also factoring in the limitations placed upon it by Netflix at first only paying for the first three and then the next four seasons. Of course a story made for ten seasons limited to seven can't resolve all plotlines. It was always meant to have an open end to entice viewers to want the final instalment.

Ultimately I hope/want Act 3 to focus on explaining the history more in depth especially from 2000 years ago at the founding of Elarion to 300 years ago with Avizandum's reign, a more in depth look at the Startouch Elves and the Star Arcanum and 'everything' related to it (for example Stella having the Star Arcanum??) and most importantly, to me, the origin of Dark Magic and further explaining it's specifics.

All three could be tied to Elarion as the main geological focus (along with Evrkynd probably, which could even draw parallels with the first human city built in opposition/definace to "Xadia" and the latest built in cooperation and peace. Once again I'm also glad Sol Regem is just bones now because that prick deserved what he got.) as all paths converge either in Elarion or at the Sea of the Castout.

- - - - -

Unrelated Sidenote but I think Aaravos will ultimately be "defeated" by, like most other parents in the series, sacrificing himself to restore/resurrect Leola. 1) He wanted to sacrifice his life for her in the beginning but wasn't allowed/able to do so and 2) it would even be akin to a final victory for him in undoing the Cosmic Orders' plans. And it would once again call back to the series' message of Love triumphing over Hate and Vengeance and the theme of Parents giving their future for their children. And this isn't as unlikely anymore since the series has begun to make certain deaths less permanent i. e. Harrow = Pip

Narrative of Love not Strength as Aaravos can't be defeated by force alone but by appealing to his love for his daughter(s).

Depending on when this happens and whether or not the Cosmic Order feels threatened or disrespected by it it could even put the Dragang (who would probably not turn against Leola) and the C.O. at odds and lead to a resolution in which there's justice for the C.O.'s wrongful deed(s) and not Revenge the way Aaravos dies it right now.

Also it would be similar to Elves and Humans working together to return Zym and bring peace and would be poetic to now also "repay" Leola's kindness and her friendship to both peoples in the past.

wait a fucking minute...

We still don't know why and how Aaravos was imprisoned.

And what exactly his beef with Sol Reg and the other archdragons was about.

And what his relationship was with the Orphan Queen.

Oh yeah! And also his relationship with Ziard... and city of Elarion...

DID THEY JUST KILL HIM WITH ABSOLUTELY NO EXPLANATION?

I'M SO PISSED OFF

[phiatheox]

people really don't like Nandor on here...he's literally my sweetie pie

[the-divine-comedian]

Yes! Bingo! She was already planning the spreadsheet in her head. Inventory and purchasing, she could absolutely handle that! And she could start with the kitchen. They had a Sinsmas party to feed, now, after all.

"Yes! I can do that, no problem at all!" She chirped. She was happy to take some off his plate, to give the man enough of a reprieve from his duties around the hotel that he could find a few minutes in the day to eat something.

She wasn't under any kind of delusion - Alastor did not expect much from her, whether because of her impish demeanor or just his general disposition. All the same, she suspected the task wouldn't be too terribly demanding at the moment, what with the fact that only, what? seven?? people were staying at the hotel. Once they started picking up, it would get intense - but it was more than manageable as her only real task around the place.

"All I need is the key to storage, and I'll take care of it for you!"

It was best that she not mention so aloud - otherwise he might revert right back to his initial consideration in regards to eating her. But as it was, he was listening to the best of his ability, an ear twitching in mild agitation before he settled on something that could feasibly make his life easier.

"Bookkeeping, hm? What about inventory? There are any number of supplies within the hotel that need to be tracked and ordered when necessary to replenish them. Toiletries, food and drink, linens, etcetera. It would be quite the task."

And one that he would be more than happy to be rid of.

"It's likely too that you will need to rendezvous with suppliers and merchandisers around the remainder of the city, if you're so keen to be out and about."

[secriden]

*cracks knuckles* Okay lets talk about the elephant in the room: Style going to the support group for those who've suffered loss and telling what appears to be a fake story about losing his pet dog.

I'm going to point out a few things that I think provide a framework for Style's actions here. Not because I think it excuses what he did, but because I think a nuanced read is what the character deserves.

Point 1: An irresistible opportunity

The subs put the "Support Group for Loss" on the image in the notebook, but I'm not sure there's anything to suggest that Style would've known that was what this image represents until he showed up and saw the sign on top of the door.

In episode 2, Bison says, "He plans everything down from years, months, weeks to days" and then tells Kant:

So Style is literally just going to addresses/locations at given days and times, potentially not knowing what to expect. And as much as Fadel is certainly attending this meeting as a response to having that heartbreaking flashback (😭), this is also something he attends regularly and has planned to attend way in advance. So Style has no reason to think Fadel is attending this meeting because of a recent resurfacing of his pain.

What we, the audience, and what the characters know are very different things.

Now, should Style have turned his cute ass right around once he realised what this meeting was? Of course he should. But that wouldn't have been true to Style's character. We've been told by his best friend that he is "crazy" and been shown repeatedly that he lives right up to that description.

Style is impulsive. He's all base instinct and he acts on his desires without thought or contemplation. And by this point he is desperate for a deeper connection with Fadel. He's fascinated, captivated by the mystery that is Fadel and this is an excellent opportunity to finally see behind the wall Fadel so carefully maintains.

When Style sees the sign above the door, Style looks at the notebook (which, again, shows nothing but people sitting in a circle with the words RISE UP) like he's just realising what it means. He then gets this amused, almost rueful look on his face (like he's thinking "am I really going to do this?") before it shifts to determination and he walks through the door.

(My soul for the ability to once again gif something because FUCK Dunk is doing SO MUCH in this show!!)

To Style, this is just too good of an opportunity to give up.

Because let's be real, Fadel is so clearly lying and hiding something:

Fadel is shady as FUCK. He is simultaneously actually a really good cook (Style finally tries his burger so he knows, now), and also has the skills to work at a strip host club, and also can take on 3 guys in a fight, and also can break a man's arm with his thighs. Can you honestly blame Style for losing his mind just a little bit about wanting to get his hands on something, anything, to figure this man out?

Style is being absolutely consistent in his persistence to understand Fadel. This isn't about the car or about finally 'winning' the fight (thank you @airenyah for giving such a detailed framework to understand what Style's been doing until this point) anymore. This is about Style wanting to know Fadel himself.

Point 2: The potential implications of the setting

Now, what might give us a bit of insight as to why Style is this way? I have a theory (albeit one that could prove to be very wrong, but hear me out). I think this whole entire show is set in what could potentially be quite a small town/suburb.

There's a few things that make this theory plausible:

(1) Fadel and Bison are in hiding after Bison blew their previous cover. They're probably on the run from some section of the authorities and so it makes sense to settle in a quiet/out of the way place.

(2) Style seems to be really familiar with the people in the area. Like he grew up there and its the kind of small town where everyone knows everyone and everyone is in everyone else's business.

(3) Style is clearly the darling of the market aunties and uncles.

Style just lost her a sale and potentially a loyal customer, and she's still rooting for him? In episode 2, when Style asks the uncle to let him borrow his cart, it takes nothing but his word for the uncle to give Style his entire cart of produce for his ridiculous scheme.

Style is so clearly someone they all know well and have great affection for, and a very plausible explanation for this is that they all watched him grow up and the entire market (town/village) is fond of him.

And honestly?? Yeah, we see the way Style is actually quite sweet in that careless, guileless, thoughtless way. He goes the extra mile to fix his mistake with Fadel by replacing his car parts for free in episode 1. He helps out by taking orders in episode 2 without being asked and takes it seriously. In episode 3, he tries to drive more business to Fadel's store (bless him, he so clearly does NOT understand how restaurants work, but he MEANS well!!), and can we all acknowledge that it works?? He understands how to appeal to potential customers in the area because he knows the people there. It's not (entirely) his fault that Fadel wasn't remotely prepared for an actual rush crowd and Bison was off getting kinky with Kant and not doing his (fake) job. He is so clear about not judging Fadel's host job and tries his hardest to help him (to absolutely NO effect, but still) when the 3 guys gang up on Fadel.

Style is so loved and more importantly so very loveable.

Point 3: What this could mean for Style's character

So, potentially, Style is someone who grew up in a small town, who has been well loved, potentially spoiled and coddled, but also very much kept within the confines of the narrow viewpoint that a quiet, country town places on you.

It's in the way his dad scolds him as if he was still a child when he's at least in his mid to late 20s. It's in the way Style was so mad at Fadel for scolding him ("thanks for the lecture, dad"), like that hit a sore point for Style. It's in the way no one in the market takes him seriously; they're fond, but he's still a kid in their eyes. It's in the way he has an abundance of free time like he doesn't REALLY need to work at his dad's shop. It's in the way he sees Fadel beat 3 guys up with ease, starts wondering if Fadel is an assassin or a hitman, and is completely unfazed like he doesn't quite have a handle on reality.

It's in the way his best friend is a man who has no qualms about lying to him and putting his life in danger, and how Style seems to have no other friends or people (aside from his dad) in his life.

@wuxian-vs-wangji made a comment to me about Style being desperate for a meaningful connection, and I think she hit the nail on the head. Because along comes Fadel, a mysterious stranger with a suspiciously versatile set of skills who is also very hot and keeps giving Style these wonderfully complex reactions? Who sometimes wants nothing to do with Style, but at other times seems to be at war within himself about desperately wanting him? Who treats Style with anything but apathy?

This is catnip to Style; he never had any hope of resisting this.

Breaking news: Style is a complex and imperfect character...

Here's the thing, though: he was never going to try. The show has been incredibly upfront about who Style is as a person. Regardless of whether I'm correct about why he is this way (ie. that he is very much the product of the environment that didn't know how to handle a kid with Style's personality), episode 3 shouldn't have surprised anyone about Style. He's been incredibly consistent and true to himself.

He wants Fadel and he's "crazy" enough to go all in, no holds barred about it, and the Support Group was the biggest doorway to finally discovering something REAL about Fadel.

And its not just about sex or to prove his superiority anymore. Because if it was just that, then Style would have reacted very differently to their first time.

In this scene, Style is pleased and evidently enjoying himself, but he isn't exuberant. He isn't overcome with joy. If anything, he was more happy and excited when Fadel let him help out in the diner (I mentioned this in the tags in this post too) than he was when Fadel is literally fucking him. He lets Fadel set the pace; barely moves to touch Fadel except to hold him close. Almost like he doesn't want to accidentally mess this up, like he's worried he'll take too much, so he'll take what Fadel gives him and no more (please appreciate @braceletofteeth's amazing tags on this post). For a character that has been so aggressively on the offensive, this is shocking until you realise that sleeping with Fadel - while it's a step in the right direction - isn't Style's end goal anymore.

And he makes that abundantly clear in this episode:

Does Style even fully realise the weight of this desire? I doubt it. But I do believe that Style is in earnest. He doesn't fully understand his own feelings, but he also doesn't really care to either. All he knows is that he wants Fadel, wants his attention and his passion and his focus and his heart.

...but Style is also kind of, sort of, perfect.

Because he's exactly, precisely, breathtakingly exactly what Fadel needs.

Because Fadel is hurt and broken and bleeding inside. Because Fadel is barely holding it all together for Bison's sake, but has already given up hope for any true happiness for himself. Because Fadel can't trust anyone or anything in his life, when he's been used and used and used by the family who should've loved and cared and protected him.

Because it's going to take nothing short of this kind of unwavering, unshakable, uncomplicated determination to give Fadel even a chance of healing and opening his heart to love again.