#this is not about anyone on here or anyone in particular
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Ok, so wait.
We have literally hundreds of fundraisers going around, often getting thousands of dollars in donations and tens of thousands of notes here.
I've personally seen many fundraisers that said they were vetted by el-shab-hussein or 90s-ghost or were on the list of vetted fundraisers, BUT which nevertheless had completely contradictory statements in their own blog posts and their fundraisers. Just for starters.
On one hand, above, we have
* obvious pornbot behavior from a supposedly vetted blog
* an explanation of how easy it would be for a scammer to get through the ways this one was supposedly vetted (and seriously, naming a place someone could be displaced to in Gaza is not a high bar, that's basic news headlines stuff)
* not to mention a statement about obvious harassment of anyone that says any of these fundraisers are fake.
There are also more reasons to disbelieve this one in the notes, e.g. that that blog used to be a porn blog, which is consistent with sending pornbot asks like these.
And on the other hand, we have
* the claim that people's scrutiny isn't because there are literally hundreds of similar fundraisers going around, it's because they're Palestinian
* and the claim that this particular thread is part of a hate/harassment campaign against Palestinian bloggers.
Just... Giving people some kind of evidence ought to be a bare minimum courtesy for a claim like "don't believe anything this person is saying." I mean, even el-shab-hussein did that.
Link
This is a well-known Palestinian user and vetter explaining that they are completely confident that the pornbotlike ask sent by an account with a verified fundraiser was a result of "embarrassing behavior/a mistake in online interactions."
This would be more plausible if it was a one time occurrence, but this blog sent the exact same ask to (at minimum) three separate accounts:
Link
Link
Link
These asks are all identical, to the letter - that's how I found them. This is, needless to say, very strange for any person to do on tumblr, least of all someone who is raising money to try and protect their family from a genocide. glitzyboo, for example, does not post images of themselves or reblog anything remotely close to NSFW, so it's very very odd behavior for someone to tell them they are "pretty enough" for anything. It is even more suspicious when you consider the very long history of porn bots sending sugar daddy scam asks on this site.
I don't know what is going wrong here - who is mistaken about what, what part of the process is breaking down, but the story told in the above post, that this was an embarrassing social faux pas that happened one time and was sent by a real person who was horny, does not hold up to scrutiny.
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The Heart of Rome (Marcus Acacius x Ofc!Princess Reader)
All Chapters List
XV. The Plan (+18, Smut, MDNI)
“Parcere proditori, proditio est innocenti.”
To spare the traitor is to betray the innocent.
Marcus, after leaving you in the poorhouse, made his way to Palatine Hill. He had a bad feeling about it and it was getting worse. It was tough for him to leave you each time. However, today's council was of greater importance than any that had preceded it. It might be the case that this could alter the course of Rome and his own fate.
He got the latest update from his soldiers before heading into the Domus Severiana. He had trust in the Praetorian guards at the gate and those in the courtyard, but with Geta's safety at stake, he couldn't be sure. Octavius met him in the courtyard and followed him into the armoury to help him put on his armour. The next step was to get Geta to the Curia Julia safely. He must do this on his own, with his most trusted soldiers. As a Roman general, Marcus was an expert in a variety of military strategies and tactics, with a particular focus on offensive operations. It was for this reason that he maintained a considerable military presence on the Field of Mars, prepared for any eventuality. They were ready to act on his orders. He had invested a great deal of time and effort in training them, with the aim of making them all well-raised soldiers and ensuring they were prepared to take action should the need arise. He was certain that he would eventually have to deal with the Praetorian Guard. However, since you came into his life, his priorities have shifted somewhat. He was no longer seeking to overthrow the Emperor, but rather to assist him in becoming a capable leader for Rome. Perhaps he was reluctant to witness further unrest and conflict in the city. He was willing to do whatever he could to ensure a brighter future for his own and for all Roman children.
Marcus put on his armour and armed himself with his sword before heading to the courtyard with Octavius. Geta and his mother, Julia, were there, too, with a few guards awaiting him. As soon as Geta saw them, he walked toward them.
"Acacius, where's my sister? Why didn't you bring her with you?" he asked, a little louder than necessary.
"She's somewhere safe, so there's no need to worry."
"That's nonsense! You should have brought her here with you. I don't think it's a good idea for her to stay outside the palace right now."
Marcus gave him a stern look. "So you're the one who ordered the guards to look for her everywhere?"
"Yes, I wasn't sure how Macrinus would take the council's urgent decision, so I thought maybe I could bring her here this way."
Marcus strode over to him, looking angry, which made Geta tense up.
"You knew she was with me."
"But I didn't know where you were, so I had to get them to look for you both. Roughly half of the guards were still on his side. I just wanted to make sure that my guard could find you before anyone else did."
Marcus tried to calm down, taking a deep breath. "This shows that the palace isn't a safe place either. Fortunately, she's safe now, my men are protecting her," he said then. “May I ask how the Council decided to meet today?” His eyes shifted to Julia, but she averted her gaze.
"It is difficult to convey the extent of my mother's efforts, but we have now gained the upper hand in the council," he said, winking at her. “It was unanimously agreed that an urgent meeting should be convened, today.”
Marcus was not interested in the specifics of her success. “I see.” He murmured.
“So let's proceed with the next steps and conclude this, shall we?”
Marcus nodded. "Indeed."
By noon, Geta and Julia's carriage had arrived at the Roman Forum. As they made their way through the streets, they were accompanied by other soldiers and guards who appeared to be loyal to Geta for the time being. The members of the Senate were already assembled in the Curia Julia. While Geta and Julia proceeded up the stairs, Marcus followed at a distance, taking care to observe his surroundings. However, the issue was not external, but rather within the Council chamber itself. Some of the Council members were absent, and it was not difficult to discern which ones. The other members expressed their concerns about their absence, and Geta was insistent on commencing the session. However, this was contrary to the law. Therefore, they decided to wait, but this was about to exacerbate the situation further. Marcus was concerned that this endless waiting time might be a sign of something bad.
‘What is this place? Where are you taking me?’ you asked Macrinus. You followed him through narrow streets and then through a tunneled passage into a large building.
"You will see it soon enough, my lady." He replied confidently.
You didn't want to come to this strange place with that bastard, but you had no choice. He had his plans for today, no doubt about it. You soon passed through the stone walls that resembled those under the Colosseum and observed a group of men. They were all members of the Senate, and you knew them at once by their white togas.
"What's the meaning of this?" Your voice was loud.
Macrinus ignored you, and the members of the Senate looked at you with a hint of hesitation.
"You really brought her," said one of them.
"I always get what I want, consul. You should have known this by now." Macrinus grinned then clasped his hands. "Now that we have the princess, we shall move on to the next stage."
"Consul Macrinus, I'm not entirely convinced if that's the best course of action. I think it is unwise to abduct General Acasius' wife, the princess, and force them to cooperate." One of them said.
"Council must have met by now. Geta's guards will be looking for us."
"And do not forget the Acacius's soldiers!"
"Cease the complaining!" Macrinus yelled at them. "Why can't you see the opportunity that I see? They can't start the session without us, yet they can't make a decision either. And as for Geta, he is not like Caracalla." He turned towards you. "He values his sister more than you realise.” Then looked at them once again. "So, Acacius will bring us Geta with his own hands and hand him over, and I will kill him. This will make my path to the throne. Then we'll all win. See? It's straightforward. There's no need to complain like old ladies, is there?”
"You'll all be punished for this!" You shouted. “You'll lose your statues, your title, everything you have! Release me at once, I'm warning you!"
The consuls exchanged glances, and Macrinus became visibly upset and approached and grabbed your arm.
"I see you've been very talkative since I last saw you, Aurelia. However, you're wasting your breath. I'll take your brother's life eventually and become an emperor.”
"It will never happen!" You barked. He touched your hair, and you turned your head to the other side in disgust. "You will witness it. I will make sure of that." He looked at the guards. "Take the princess away and lock her up."
"Let go of me!" You resisted, struggling. But the guards ignored you.
It didn't seem like an easy situation to get out of this time. Your chest tightened as you considered the possibility that he might win. If that were to happen, it would undoubtedly mean losing everything. It would be disastrous.
You descended the stone stairs and were taken aback by what you saw. There were cells with iron bars, like a dungeon. You stopped and looked at the guards.
“Please keep walking, my lady.” His tone was stern.
When you refused, the guards looked at each other and one of them grabbed your arm.
"'Let go of my arm!" You yelled, trying to fight back but to no avail. The other one opened the door to one of the cells and they forced you inside.
"I am your princess! You can't do this! Can't you hear me?"
They kept ignoring you, and locked the cell. You gripped the bars.
"Please, don't do this, let me out! Please!" Your voice was pleading this time, but it seemed to have no effect on them. One of them stood by the bars and the other near the stairs. You gave up begging, turned your back on them, and looked into the cell. It was almost the filthiest place you had ever been. The stone walls looked like weathered rock. The floor was dirty, dusty and filthy. You were so tired, that your feet were about to betray you, but you had no intention of sitting down or leaning against the wall, so you decided to cross your arms and just wait. You had never felt so helpless, not even when you were running away from Flavius in the woods. There was nothing more horrible than having your freedom taken away, the feeling of being trapped made your chest ache.
Before long, you heard footsteps echoing through the hall. You looked in that direction and saw the guards nodding to Macrinus. He had his usual self-assured look on his face, bowing respectfully to you as if he had done nothing wrong.
You went over to the iron bars. “Get me out of here at once!’
He gave a little smirk. “I'm really sorry about the poor facilities, my lady, but I am a little unsure that you'd behave yourself. After all, you have a very stubborn and determined temperament.”
You pursed your lips. “What's this place anyway? What gives you the right to lock me in here?”
Macrinus put his hands on the iron bars and observed as if he were seeing them for the first time. “This is where the gladiators stay. They get their first training at this school before heading to the Colosseum."
"Do I look like a gladiator to you?"
Macrinus laughed. "Of course not, my lady. Let's just say I'm playing it safe."
"Locking me up won't convince me of anything."
"Is that so? Hmm, maybe not you, but I think I could easily persuade your brother or your husband. They both care a lot about you after all."
You took a step towards him. "What exactly are you planning? As soon as you ascend to the throne, you will exile my husband, declare our marriage null and void, and force me to marry you?”
“More or less, yes.”
"That's not going to happen! I'm never going to marry you, not in this life, or the next!" Your voice bounced off the cold stone walls with a ringing sound.
Macrinus seemed serious this time. "Then you'll be stuck under home detention for the rest of your life. There won't be a general husband coming to your rescue, nor a foolish brother in hopeless in love with you either."
"Shut your damn mouth!" Your body was shaking with anger.
"I'm giving you one last chance, Aurelia. Think carefully. Once Geta's gone, I'll be the new emperor. And then you'll do what I want." Macrinus put his hands on the bars just above yours. "'I thought it would be better to exile Acacius for his heroism, so that would not provoke a public outrage, but if you try my patience and resist, I will make you watch him die in the Colosseum. I swear I will."
You swallowed, even the thought was enough to make your heart ache. "I am carrying his child, how can you be so heartless, so damned?”
"A child?” He laughed. “As a medicus I'm sure you can find ways to get rid of that.”
"Damn you!" You reached through the bars to hit him in the face, but he grabbed your hand. He made you put your hand on his collar. There was a marking on his chest.
"Take a look at this! Do you know what this is? It's your father's mark!"
You observed the mark. "Were you a slave?"
Macrinus released your hand and you pulled it back.
"I was, during your father's time, but I managed to get into the senate. He was a strong and powerful man, your father. A soldier, a dictator, and a tough opponent. I learned a lot from him, Aurelia. But I still couldn't gain his trust, no matter how hard I tried. Fortunately, his sons weren't like him." He pointed his finger at you. "You're more like your father than they are. I realised the first time I saw you in Egypt. Look, no matter how much you refuse, you can't escape what's coming. I will get what I deserve."
"No, that will never happen. You will lose. No one will remember you."
This time he sounded angry. "I made you a princess! You got your title back thanks to me! How about a little gratitude?”
"I was planning to come here anyway. Vicius and I had been planning to travel to Rome together to find my true family. If circumstances had been different the rebellion hadn't broken out, and the Roman soldiers hadn't come to put it down. That night..." You took a moment to collect your thoughts. Despite the pain that these memories still evoke, you have learned to embrace them because they have led you to meet Marcus. "He had already told me everything, except who my father was. We were going to open the letter together as soon as we arrived in Rome. You only hastened the process.”
"Vicius," he said, sounding annoyed. He then took a deep breath. "I've had some success in this process, but also had a few failures, and that man is one of them. If he'd handed you over to me then, before Geta and Caracalla ascended the throne, things might be different now."
His disrespect for Vicius was unacceptable and made you even angrier.
"What about Gaius? Isn't he also a great failure of yours?"
"Well, not entirely. If he hadn't taken your father's letter to him as an offer to marry you, who knows, he might still be alive now. He was the one who caused his own death. It's in my interest for him to die if there's any chance of him ascending to the throne." He smiled, but then his face turned angry again. "But he's not the biggest failure or obstacle." He said as he approached the bars, his face was close enough to touch the surface of the iron bars. "Acacius. He's the biggest obstacle that needs to be removed from my path, and I'm going to make sure that I do."
You brought your face closer to his. "My husband, Acacius, will be the end of you. You can be sure of that.”
He put a hand to his chin as if he was thinking. "I am doubt about that Aurelia. Because you see, soon, he will be preoccupied with bringing Geta to me. And once he does, I will take your brother's life and that will be the end of your husband as well." He grinned. "My plan is working perfectly and I will get what I want."
"He is not stupid. He will not fall into your trap.”
“He has no choice. He'll do anything to get you back, I know that."
You knew he was right and you hated it.
"Enough talk. Time to take action." He turned towards the guard. "If there's any trouble, kill her."
You swallowed, trying to stay calm. He then bowed his head to you and headed towards the stairs.
As time passed, the atmosphere in the Curia Julia became increasingly tense. Marcus was at breaking point, and Geta was no different. As Octavius rushed into the hall, almost tripping on the stairs, everyone looked at him with curiosity.
"Sir, you need to come outside," he said to Marcus, keeping his voice low.
"Is something wrong?"
Geta stood up and walked towards them.
"What's going on?"
Octavius’ face was grave as he was about to give them bad news. He looked at the councilors and then at his general. "Sir, Macrinus sent a guard to speak with you..." Octavius looked down in distress.
Marcus frowned, wondering if he was about to hear what he feared most.
"What does he want? Speak at once!" Geta shouted.
Julia tried to calm the council members.
"Princess Aurelia..." Octavius exhaled a deep breath. "Macrinus has abducted her-"
Without even thinking, Marcus stormed to the entrance to leave the hall. Geta followed him, but his mother grabbed his arm.
"Your Majesty! You must stay here-"
"You do that!" he said, roughly pulling his arm away from her.
Marcus rushed down the stairs and, noticing the guard Octavius had pointed at, grabbed his sword and held it to the man's throat. The guard let out a little gasp. "Tell me where she is now!' He roared.
All the soldiers and guards tensed and gripped the hilt of their swords.
"General Acacius, Sir Macrinus is waiting for you at his villa." He said, out of breath, struggling to get the words out. "He also said that he wants you to bring Emperor Geta with you."
“How dare he summon me like this?” Geta shouted. "Acacius, round up your men, and let's move to take him out now, shall we?"
The soldiers looked at their general. Seizing the opportunity of Marcus' thoughtful demeanor, Macrinus' guard took a step back.
"Sir Macrinus only wants the general and Emperor Geta." He stated arrogantly. "If you care about the Princess, you'd better do as-”
Suddenly a schwing sound was heard and Octavius's sword severed his jugular, and he collapsed, tumbling down the stairs and staining the marble steps with his blood. They all watched him die with a deadpan expression.
"Why wait? We must leave now Acacius," Geta touched his shoulder.
Marcus shook his head. “No, he'll kill you the moment I take you there, I can't let it.”
"I'm flattered, general, but this is your wife we're talking about, my sister."
Marcus sheathed his sword. "I am aware, but we must act wisely. If we fall into his trap, it will be the end of us all, which is exactly what he wants us to do."
"So we'll just leave Aurelia in his filthy hands?"
Marcus gave him a deadly look. "Don't you dare speak like you care more about my wife than I do!"
"Then act like you do!" Geta barked.
“General Acacius! Emperor Geta!”
They both turned to face the man calling to them. A man in a black cloak, familiar to Marcus, came up the stairs and approached them. The soldiers tensed, but Marcus gestured to them that it was all right.
"Who the hell are you?" Geta asked, squinting at the man.
"I am Lextus, Your Majesty," the man said, bowing. He looked at Marcus and then back at Geta. "I have something very important to tell you, both of you."
"Man of yours?" Geta asked Marcus.
"No, he is a relative of yours, from Leptis Magna, didn't your mother tell you?"
Geta gave him a dirty look.
"Speak up, what's so important?" Marcus asked.
"We've been tracking Macrinus for a while and we know where he is."
"If that's what you wanted to say, you've come in vain," Geta said, pointing to the guard's lifeless body lying at the bottom of the stairs.. "That cunt Macrinus is already waiting for us to go to him."
"It's a trap, he's luring you into it, Your Majesty. The Lady Aurelia is not with him, she is elsewhere," he said, and as soon as he mentioned your name, Marcus and Geta's eyes locked on him. "We know where he's keeping her, that's what I came here to tell you."
Marcus grabbed him by the collar of his cloak. "How do you know? When did you see her? Speak at once!"
"The General asked you a question!" Geta demanded.
Lexus hadn't expected either of them to react this way, he had to take a breath to speak. "Praetorians with Macrinus' lead intercepted Lady Aurelia's carriage in the alleyway. We followed the carriage, which took us straight to Ludus Magnus. We saw Lady Aurelia enter with the guards, and I have men stationed there to keep an eye on things. We are unsure why, but we know some consuls are there."
Geta looked at Marcus. "Why would he take her to the damn gladiator training school? What is he trying to do?"
"Tell me, is Macrinus still there or in his villa?" Marcus demanded.
"He left a few hours ago, we believe he went to there."
"We need to get to Aurelia now!" Geta said.
"The guards will be watching us. If we head there now, they'll inform him. Or even worse, they might hurt her before we get there." Marcus said through clenched teeth.
"What are we going to do then?"
Marcus thought for a moment. He had to think fast and come up with a plan, but he wasn't sure what to do.
It was time to think strategically and take action. As a soldier and general, he was an expert in this. "We need to make some time," he muttered.
"So let's not waste, standing here," Geta whined, adjusting his crown.
Watching him, a plan came to Marcus' mind. "Your Majesty, we must take you to Palatine Hill immediately."
"Are you mad? Macrinus's men are all over the place. Didn't you just say so yourself?”
Marcus exhaled. “That's why we have to leave now. I'm asking you to trust me.”
Geta narrowed his eyes. "In the past, I wouldn't have trusted you, but now I think I do."
"You don't have much choice, after all," Marcus teased as they hurried down the stairs together.
Once Geta was in the carriage, Marcus called Aris over. "Head to the Field of Mars right away and let them know I've ordered the troops to assemble around Macrinus' villa. Try to be as stealthy as you can."
"Yes, sir." He said and quickly walked in the opposite direction.
"The rest of you, come with me," Marcus said. They all nodded and got on their horses.
Geta called out to him as the carriage was moving. "Acacius, I hope you know what you're doing!"
He still didn't fully trust the other guards accompanying Geta, so he didn't want to tell him his plan yet.
"I need both your patience and your trust, Your Majesty."
"You've got both as long as you save my sister.”
Marcus felt his heart beating faster with worry. He really wanted to come and get you out of there as soon as possible. But he had to think carefully. He knew that if he acted without thinking things through, he might lose you. Besides, he had to be absolutely sure that he got Macrinus this time too.
The guards at Palatine Hill were surprised to see the carriage coming earlier than expected. Geta stepped into the courtyard with Marcus. He tried to take Geta away from the guards, however, two of them came over to them.
"General, we want to help you. We are loyal to the emperor Geta, you can trust us."
Marcus seemed unsure.
"They are in a dilemma because their commander has not yet been chosen, Acacius. Macrinus' side and mine." Geta explained.
"Yes, there are others outside who are on Macrinus' side, sir. But I'm not, and my team here are all loyal to you, highness.”
"You were always so keen to be a Praetorian," Marcus said, looking at the guard. He realised that he was his childhood friend.
"Do you remember me? I thought you might have forgotten." He gave a little smile.
"Yes, you weren't eager to join the army, so I didn't hassle you about it too much."
"I wanted to serve the emperor, General Acacius."
"I see," said Marcus, smiling back.
"I was really proud when I saw you become a general of Rome, you know."
Marcus nodded his thanks.
"That's very touching gentleman, but can you tell us what to do now, our glorious general?" Geta said impatiently.
"Cato!" Marcus called him to his side.
He came running at once. "Sir!"
Marcus put his hand on his shoulder. "We need your help."
Geta frowned. "Isn't that your squire? How can he help us?"
Marcus smiled confidently. "He has the same hair colour and the same size as you, your majesty."
"Excuse me?”
"We're going to confuse them. Could you take off your clothes and give them to Cato?"
Geta opened his eyes wide in surprise. "What did you just say? Tell me you are joking!"
Geta wasn't the only one taken aback. Cato and Octavius exchanged glances, clearly surprised.
Marcus let out a sigh. "He'll take your place, so we won't put you in danger."
"So this is your master plan, Acacius? You seem to have forgotten how clever that cunt is. Sooner or later, he'll figure out that your squire doesn't look handsome as I do." He said smugly.
"It's not really a concern," Marcus said, grasping Cato's arm. "This buys us some time, at least. Until I get the Aurelia out of there."
They walked together to Geta's chamber. Geta grumbled the whole way but seemed to be convinced at last. Cato looked a bit out of place in the emperor's clothes. He glanced at them hesitantly. Marcus couldn't help but grin when he saw him in Geta's attire. Geta sized him up.
"Ugh, you look like another evil twin of mine! That is all I need!”
"Forgive me, Your Majesty." Cato said, bowing his head.
Marcus held out his hand to Geta. "Your Majesty, can you give me your crown too?"
"Gods above! This is disrespectful and unacceptable, Acacius!"
Marcus rolled his eyes. "It's just a symbol, an item. It has no significance. You don't need the crown to prove that you are an emperor, do you?"
“Huh, you just enjoy lecturing me, don't you?" Geta pursed his lips.
"We're running out of time here."
"Fine!" He gave his crown to him. Cato held his breath as Marcus placed the crown on his head.
"Hmph, if this won't work, I swear on Vesta's fire that I will punish you Acacius."
Marcus smirked in response.
Geta tugged fabric of his gown which made him look like a commoner. '"Whatever, let's get this done as soon as possible and then I shall drink wine until I get drunk so I can forget all about it." He refused to look at their faces as he left his chamber.
As they descended the stairs, Marcus touched Cato on the shoulder. "Keep your face hidden at all costs. Even if they can't see it from a distance, there's still a risk."
"I'll do my best, general."
Marcus tapped his back. "May the Gods be on our side."
And as they approached the entrance to the great courtyard, they put their plan into action.
"Your Majesty, please," Marcus gestured to Geta.
Geta pursed his lips and involuntarily pulled the deep black cloak further up over his head. The gate opened and Marcus approached the carriage with Cato who was in the Emperor's toga, covering his face as naturally as possible. Cato struggled and pretended to resist him. The guards waiting outside, watching them, did not seem to suspect anything. Marcus swiftly pushed Cato into the carriage and told the coachman to start the horses. He then turned to the guards.
"Lead the way!" He said to them. They kicked their horses toward in front of the carriage. Marcus and the others got on their own horses, following the carriage from behind.
The other guards, those who had stayed behind in the palace to protect the real emperor Geta, put on their cloaks over their armour. They were going to take him back to Curia Julia in secret. It was already pretty quiet, as everyone else had left to accompany the false emperor. As per the plan, Marcus must turn his horse around halfway down the road and head for the Domus Vectiliana (Ludus Magnus).
After all, they were acting as if they didn't know where you were, and leading Geta straight into Macrinus' hands which it was not. So the plan was working perfectly. A little later, Marcus glanced at Octavius, and turned his horse round, making the guards surprised. The carriage kept going forward. They looked at each other, unsure of what to do. Their leader cursed and called out to some of them.
"Go after the general! The others stay with me!”
Marcus looked back over his shoulder at the guards who were chasing him as he rode his horse at a gallop. There were five of them. He needed to get rid of them without attracting attention.
"Come on!" He challenged them, drew his sword and turned his horse. He had one of them in his sights. He aimed at his leg and lunged before he could draw his sword, and the man let out a groan and fell off his horse. They were getting closer to the streets.The others yelled and drew their swords, rushing to attack Marcus but he was quick to dodge the attacks of two of them and managed to knock them off their horses. He rode his horse into the alleys to get rid of the rest. People screamed and ran to get out of the way to avoid being crushed by the horses.
"Where the hell is he heading to?" One of them asked the other.
"I think he found out where the princess is! Go there and warn the others before he gets there!”
As soon as they said that, they were both struck down by arrows from nowhere and fell to the ground. Marcus turned and saw Lexus and his men. He stopped his horse and nodded his thanks. Then, without wasting any time, he ordered the curious people out of the way and kicked his horse forward again. Since there was no obstacle in his way, he should be heading to get to you now.
The minutes and hours passed by, and the pain in your legs became increasingly difficult to bear. And you gave up. As you sat on the floor in the cold, smelly, dirty cell, you played with the wedding ring on your finger. Your mind was racing with questions. Why wasn't anyone coming? Or is it too late for everything now? Marcus, Geta... Your heart ached. It was torture, waiting there helplessly, hoping for rescue desperately, unable to do anything. You suddenly felt a pressure under your belly, right where your womb was. You put your hands right on it.
"Ssshh, calm down, my little one. I know you've been through a lot, but hang in there a little longer, please. Your father will come to save us, I promise you. Take his strength, take his courage and hold on. Our little miracle. We will always love you and protect you. So please try to hang in there.”
All of a sudden, a few shouts and the sound of swords clashing came from upstairs. The guards immediately tensed up and gripped the hilts of their swords. You jumped to your feet, unlike them, you felt excitement. Your heart was filled with hope. The sound of the iron gate opening loudly reverberated off the stone walls, and a moment later you saw a guard rolling down the stairs with the deafening sound of his iron armour ringing in your ears. The guards immediately drew their swords at someone on the stairs. First, you heard his angry roar and then Marcus himself rushed down the stairs, kicked one of the guards, and pushed him against the wall. The other swung his sword at him, Marcus crouched and lunged and cut his leg.
"Marcus!" You called out to him cheerfully.
He looked at you and smiled, but the other guard lunged at him, waving his sword.
"Marcus look out!" You pointed at him.
He managed to avoid the lunge at the last moment and hit his opponent in the back with the handle of his sword, causing him to stumble. As he lunged at him again, Marcus drew his pugio and knocked his sword out of his hand with both sword and pugio. And with a really neat move, he cut his neck. The stone walls were covered in a red, rusty-smelling liquid. You ran over to the iron bars and grabbed them. Marcus wiped the blood from his face with the back of his hand and looked at you. He looked at you with an intense gaze, his brown eyes sparkling.
"My lady." He said in a soft, velvety voice. "Forgive me for being late." He reached his hand through the bars to touch your face. "How could he imprison you in such a vile place? Did he hurt you?"
You grasped his hand with both of yours and kissed it. "No, I'm alright, don't worry." You forced a smile.
"How can I not, my love? My beloved. My soul. My breath." He then let out a sigh of relief, stroking your chin with his thumb. "Thank the Gods I found you safe and sound." He then gripped the iron bars and jerked them angrily, cursing.
"That man has the key," you said, pointing to one of the guards lying on the floor. Marcus went to him, bent down, and turned his lifeless body to check.
"Geta? Is he okay?”
"He is for now. We don't have much time, though. We need to get out of here now." He took the keys from the man and approached you. He unlocked the cell, setting you free. You took a step towards him and reached out to hug him.
"My lady, there is some blood on me-" You wrapped your arms around him, resting your head on his chest. "...and I'm not very clean." He finished his sentence with a murmur.
"I don't care." You said, closing your eyes and hugging him tighter. You ignored the blood smearing your cheek from his armour and the smell of it.
He lifted his hand to touch your hair, but his hand was covered in blood. He clenched his hand into a fist and wrapped his arm around you, inhaling your scent without touching you. He then pulled back.
"Aurelia, we have to leave, now." His voice was firm.
You nodded and walked towards the stairs while avoiding stepping in the puddle of blood on the ground. Marcus noticed your nervousness and wrapped his arms around you, lifting you into his lap. You looked at his face as he walked up the stairs with you in his arms. He looked very serious and stern, and you could guess what he was feeling, and what he was thinking. It must have been hard for him to find you in a situation where he almost lost you somehow, and to fight to make sure that didn't happen. To kill someone every time, to have blood on his hands. But for Marcus, finding you safe and sound was enough, he didn't care about the rest. He walked through the countless guards lying lifeless on the ground and carried you out in his arms. You were angry that he had to kill them because of Macrinus. It was all his fault, so many people had died because of him so far. Marcus lowered you to the ground beside his horse.
"It may be a bit of a rough ride, but try to hold on, will you?"
You nodded. "I can manage.”
He smiled and moved the saddle back a little so you could sit on it. He then settled in front of you. You put your arms around his waist. Marcus took hold of your arms around him. "Hold on tighter, princess."
Even though you couldn't see his face, you knew he was smiling. He grabbed the horse's reins and kicked his horse forward. You wrapped your arms around him as tightly as you could. With each jolt, your cheek bumped against his back.
"Where are we heading now?" You asked.
As you passed the Colosseum, you noticed the sun was setting over the hills ahead.
"First, I'll take you to the Curia Julia."
You tilted your head to get a better look at his face. "I'm not coming with you?"
He raised an eyebrow and looked at you out of the corner of his eye. "No, Aurelia, I've got a few platoons of my soldiers heading to the area around Macrinus' villa. We need to get ready for the upcoming skirmish."
"You're going to fight the Praetorian Guards?"
He sighed, “I hope not. But if it's necessary to finish off Macrinus, yes.”
You swallowed, nothing was over yet. "Why Curia Julia?"
"Geta is there with the other consuls. The rest of the guards will be guarding them. It's the safest place for you right now.”
Marcus pulled up his horse near the stairs of the Curia Julia. He dismounted and then led you down. A few of the guards came over and nodded at you.
"If there's any trouble, make sure you keep Princess Aurelia and Emperor Geta safe." He spoke to one of them in a firm tone.
"We shall protect them with our lives, general! You just finish him off!" The man put his hand on his chest. "Vae victis.”
Marcus replied. "Vae victis." Then he mounted his horse quickly and looked at you.
"Come back safely!" You said, looking at him.
He nodded and turned his horse around, kicking it forward. You watched him leave until he was out of sight.
"This way, my lady," the guard said.
You felt abandoned as you climbed the stairs with him. Soon you heard a familiar voice.
"Sister!" You looked towards Geta's voice and your eyes widened in surprise. He was wearing a black cloak over regular attire. And what's more, he was in an official building like the Curia Julia with it.
He hugged you and pulled back to look at you. "I was so worried about you, are you alright?"
You nodded your head, it was a little strange to see him like this. "What happened to your fancy toga and crown?"
"Your husband's ingenious plan." He said, rolling his eyes. "Come, rest inside. Your face is as white as marble." He put his arm around you and pulled you inside.
As dusk fell, Marcus was urging his horse to a rapid pace, hastening towards Macrinus' villa. What he saw coming down the hill wasn't quite what he'd expected. His troops had already arrived and it was clear that a battle had taken place and probably been won, but Macrinus was nowhere to be seen.
"General!" One of the soldiers recognised him.
Marcus looked around and noticed Cato in the distance, who was wounded near the carriage ahead. Felix and Aris came over to him. "What the hell happened?" He asked them.
"Sir, the plan worked, but Macrinus wounded Cato and then they attacked us. We managed to kill them all, but unfortunately, he escaped and we couldn't stop him."
"How do you mean he escaped?" Marcus’ voice was like a roar.
"Octavius and a few soldiers went after him, sir."
"Which way did they go?"
"That way," Aris said, pointing down the hill.
"I'll go after them. All of you gather around at once. Take the wounded ones to the Field of Mars."
"Sir, what about them?"
Marcus looked in the direction he was pointing and saw the members of the senate who were loyal to Macrinus. They were looking at him with a look of concern on their faces.
"The rest of you, take them to the Roman Forum and wait there for my arrival." He said, looking at them from a distance. "Can you confirm that the other troops are still controlling the entrances and exits to the city?"
"Yes, sir. The city is currently sealed off."
"Good." He said, pulling on the reins of his horse, which reared up with a loud neigh. "Make them assemble at once and get moving!" He commanded.
As he rode, perhaps faster than he had ever ridden before, determined to catch Macrinus at any cost, he realised that he missed his horse, Dromos. He promised himself that when all this was over, he would return home and see his old friend again. And then he could go out riding with you again. However, at the moment, he just had to focus on finding and getting rid of the source of all his recent problems. Before long, he heard the sound of swords clashing, so he rode towards it. He saw his soldiers and the guards were fighting, but they seemed to be getting along.
"Octavius is following him, sir!" a soldier pointed ahead. Then he killed the guard he was fighting, and he jumped on his horse to follow his general. The other one did the same too.
Marcus was soon excited to realise that Octavius was running after Macrinus on foot. He was very close. Marcus called out to the soldiers behind him.
"Block his way!”
They did as he said and rode their horses around either side of Macrinus, to block him from going any further. He realised this and started running backwards. Marcus seized the chance and leaped off his horse to capture him. They ended up rolling on the ground together. Macrinus tried to fight back, but he was so tired that he gave up and collapsed, taking a few punches to the face from Marcus in the process.
The others walked towards their General. All of them stared down at the panting, treacherous, sixty-year-old dark-skinned man. Marcus drew his sword, Macrinus cursed, crawled back. But Marcus did something that even surprised himself. He thrust his sword into the ground right next to Macrinus.
Octavius touched his shoulder, "Sir." There were a lot of questions in his tone.
‘We're heading to the Roman Forum. Bring him along."
The soldiers looked at each other, confused.
"But sir..." Octavius protested.
"This cunt must be punished by the emperor Geta himself."
Macrinus gave a hysterical laugh, but it was clear he was upset with that decision.
"You don't deserve a painless death," he said, looking at him. "I'm sure the emperor has far more creative ideas for you."
The atmosphere in the Curia Julia was palpably tense, with everyone visibly anxious and on the brink of exhaustion. The noise was unbearable and it was giving you a headache. But Geta was determined. He had no intention of sending anyone home yet. This will be solved today, he said. He made you sit in the imperial seat that belonged to Caracalla, since you were exhausted, you didn't object, despite Julia's glare. Furthermore, it was clear that the Consuls had other matters to discuss, and did not care the fact that you were sitting there. Fortunately the murmuring of the crowd was soon heard outside, and everyone turned their heads in the direction of the footsteps approaching the hall.
Your heart pounded with both excitement and nervousness. You felt immense relief when you saw Marcus a short while later. Geta leapt to his feet and looked at him, his eyes wide open. Since you focused on Marcus' face and only later realised who he had brought to the middle of the great hall. When Macrinus fell to his knees on the floor, the consuls first looked at him in astonishment and then started shouting.
"Traitor!"
"He should be beheaded!"
"Throw him from Tarpeian Rock!"
Geta raised his hand and they all fell silent. You and Marcus looked at each other from a distance, wondering why he hadn't killed him. However, he was in a good mood and you were grateful to finally see his sincere smile.
"General Acacius." Geta called him. "On behalf of the Roman people, I am grateful to you for capturing this traitor and bringing him before me, before the Council. He will be judged here, before Roman law, and his final sentence will be given. The council is now in session."
"Your Majesty," someone stated. "I am afraid a council session is not yet feasible in these circumstances. Since your crown is absent and the attire you are wearing is not fit for this occasion. Furthermore, I must point out that it is inappropriate for two women to be present at this time. I demand that the necessary conditions be imposed."
And they all murmured, some agreeing and some objecting.
"Denied!" Geta said firmly. The man frowned and sat down. "Even without my crown, my true identity remains unchanged. Also, the women you are referring to are my mother, your empress, and my sister, your Princess, Aurelia."
Marcus looked at him with a confident half-smile. You could see the pride in his look.
Geta continued. "If there are no other ridiculous objections I will continue. You have all been waiting here all morning, so I will formalise things for the sake of Rome before I tire you out any further."
He silenced the murmurs and continued. His speech took everyone by surprise, including you. At the end of the session, the verdict was reached: Caracalla was declared a tyrant, and all his decrees, orders, wills, and other belongings were declared null and void. Macrinus tried to object several times, but no one dared to stand up for him or support him. Now it was his turn to be punished.
"He was really into training these gladiators and investing in them. Then I'd like to give him a fitting punishment." Geta said with a grin. Then he turned to him. "You will be thrown into the Colosseum, along with the rest of your followers. Your fate will be decided by the gods and the people of Rome." He looked at the guards. "Now get him out of my sight, I don't want to see his ugly face anymore."
Ignoring the pleas of the councilors who had helped Macrinus, Geta closed the session and everyone began to murmur once more. He came over to you, a big grin on his face.
"I can't wait to see that wretched Macrinus in the Colosseum tomorrow!"
You smiled in response. "You did well, brother."
He smiled widely. Marcus approached you both. Geta looked at him.
"Acacius, I'm surprised you didn't kill him, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't glad. It'll be fun tomorrow!" He said, clapping his hands. He winked at you and then went over to his mother.
You looked at Marcus. "I think it's finally over now. We can rest easy, can't we?"
"Yes, my lady," he said, holding your hand. "It's over now.”
You just stared at each other for a while, speaking through your eyes. The councilors left the hall, murmuring, while Geta and his mother had a brief argument. All of this faded into the background for you.
"Looks like we'll be spending another night on Palatine Hill."
Marcus smirked. "One last night. Then tomorrow we'll be heading back to the villa, our home."
You smiled. "Thank the Gods. I miss our home so much."
"I know, me too. Shall we leave now? I need a good bath, and as my wife, you can help me, can't you?" He smirked.
You lifted your head to whisper in his ear. "Anything you wish, my love.”
You arrived at Domus Severiana in the late afternoon. As soon as you stepped into the courtyard, you ordered the slaves to prepare the balneum for you two.
The stone walls of the balneum were softly caressed by the soothing steam of the hot water, while a variety of flowers floated on the surface, their sweet scent creating a tranquil atmosphere in this spacious bath house. Marcus was in the water, his head thrown back and his eyes closed. You were right behind him, running your slender fingers over his flesh, rubbing his arms and shoulders, helping him to recover from the fatigue of the day.
"Your healing touch has refreshed my body and soul," he murmured. Then he took your hand and brought it to his lips, his collarbone, his chest, running it all over his body. Then he turned towards you, his movement causing some of the water to spill over. You swallowed as his eyes traveled over your naked body, your heart racing with excitement. He reached out for you, grabbed you around the waist, and pulled you into the water. "Now it's my turn to touch you.”
This time the water overflowed, and a lot of the flowers on the surface ended up floating away.
You giggled as Marcus ran his lips along your neck to your collarbone. "You meant to touch me with your lips? But I am in the water, so how are you going to touch the rest of my body I wonder?" You asked playfully.
"I sense a challenge." He murmured, his warm breath brushing against your collarbone. "I shall accept." He then grabbed your hips and lifted you, placing you on his shoulders. His head was between your thighs, your heels touched his back. You moaned with pleasure and laughed as his lips touched your folds. Your back arched instinctively as you felt his tongue in your most sensitive spot. You gripped his grey hair tightly with your fingers.
"Marcus! I am going to- ow!"
"Isn't it too soon, my love?"
You looked down at his face and saw that he was grinning.
"No, I meant to say that I'm going to fall, not come.”
He pulled his head back, supported your back with one hand and lowered you down onto the edge of the tub. "I've been a bit busy, I must have misheard." He grinned again. Without getting out of the water, he pulled you closer and continued where he left off. He stuck his marvellous tongue out and licked your most sensitive spot. You gasped and hitched your legs around his head, drawing him closer. He rolled his tongue up and down as he used his hand to probe at your lower lips. His beard tickled you as your breathing quickened. Adrenaline flooded your body as your pulled on his hair, bringing him closer, as he sucked and consumed you mercilessly. You bucked into him and he responded in turn with a little nip. You threw your head back as you gasped once more, feeling like you were losing your mind. Shaking, sweating, your entire body pulsed with pleasure as you clamped your legs around him.
You moaned loudly. "I am definitely coming this time!"
"Come for me, my love. Let me taste you.”
And immediately after his command, you came with a loud moan. Marcus kissed your belly and grabbed you by the hips, pulling you into the water. He kissed you on the lips with great passion, you wrapped your arms around him. The water made everything a little slippery, but Marcus was determined to grip your hips roughly, puling you closer. You wrapped your legs firmly against his waist, feeling his need press against you in the most delicious way. You couldn't stop your moans with each and every thrust and neither could he, and you began to feel him deeply inside you, he thrust deeper and deeper, pushing you both closer and closer to the edge. He grabbed your hair, gathering behind the nape of your neck and pulling your face closer, claiming your mouth with his teeth and imploring tongue. And you came for him once more, moaning into his mouth. He then reached his climax right after with a groan.
Breathing heavily, you slumped in the tub, he was holding you close, kissing your chin then beneath your ear. You listened to the peaceful sound of water echoing off the damp walls until your breathing calmed. Without pulling out, he wrapped his arms around you and you rested your head on his shoulder. Once your both breathing and racing hearts had calmed, he stood up and led you out of the tub too.
On the following day, the capital of Rome was on the brink of witnessing one of the most momentous days in its history. The Council's decision, Geta's proclaiming absolute emperorship to the entire populace, was followed by the announcement of the execution of the traitor Macrinus and his supporters in the Colosseum. As the sun reached its zenith, people were making their way towards the colossal structure, engaged in quiet conversation.
The emperor's carriage soon arrived near the Colosseum, where the people greeted Geta with great enthusiasm. You and Marcus were in the other carriage, which you got out of together and waved to the people who were cheering your name. The trumpets were blown, and as you walked towards the Imperial tribune, the announcer called out Geta's name. Everyone stood up and cheered him enthusiastically.
“Caesar! Caesar! Caesar! Caesar!”
Geta raised his hands and gave them the salute, then turned to you and held out his hand. And then they announced your name. You took Geta's hand and stood next to him.
"Princess Aurelia!"
The crowd clapped and cheered even more enthusiastically. You placed your right hand on your chest and saluted the crowd. It was then time for Marcus's name to be announced.
“General Marcus Justus Acacius!”
The crowd roared his name over and over.
“Acacius! Acacius! Acacius! Acacius!”
Marcus gave them a smile and a salute in return. Caracalla's seat has been removed and two seats have been added on either side of the emperor, as per his orders. At Geta's gesture, you took the seat next to him, and Marcus sat next to you.
And the trumpets sounded again. The announcer cut them off and carried on:
"For his treachery against the life of the Emperor and the Roman Empire, Marcus Opellius Macrinus is declared an enemy of the people. He has been stripped of his membership of the Senate and all those who aided and abetted him will bring to the arena in chains today, to face judgement, your judgement, people of Rome!"
When the iron gate sprung open, Macrinus and his supporters were brought into the middle of the arena in chains. The crowd booed them.
"Traitor! Traitor! Traitor! Traitor!"
The Announcer called the crowd to silence, listed his crimes one by one, which Macrinus replied with a smug smile.
Crowded roared. “Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill!”
Geta stood up and went over to the balustrade. But then he glanced back at you and beckoned you over. You looked at Marcus and stood up, grabbing his hand and pulling him along with you. He didn’t resist and followed you.
"What do you think, sister? Mercy?"
All three of you were looking at Macrinus. Julia, who was watching you from behind, seemed angry with Geta for not calling her mother to his side. She crossed her arms and made a face.
Looking at Macrinus from a distance, you shook your head. "No mercy." You said firmly.
Geta smiled and looked at Marcus. "Acacius?"
"Having mercy on the traitor is a betrayal to the innocent!" Said Marcus without taking his eyes off Macrinus. You smiled and held his hand, he was so right.
Geta put his arms up. "The gods have spoken!" And then he lowered both hands down. The executioner nodded and separated Macrinus's head from his body in a single stroke.
The crowd cheered. It was the first time you'd ever felt so relieved that a man was dead. Marcus let out a deep sigh, feeling the same way. When it was the turn of the other traitors, they shared Macrinus' fate too. Marcus leaned towards Geta. "Speak to your people, Your Majesty, show that you are a true emperor. They need it."
Geta looked at him, then nodded. He took a deep breath.
"The people of Rome! I promise you that from now on I will restore Rome to its rightful glory! During my reign, there will no longer be any Romans who are hungry or poor. I pledge that no Roman rights will be infringed upon, and that all will enjoy equal conditions. I promise you, as your emperor, that I will strive to make Rome the greatest empire in the world!"
You and Marcus looked at each other as the crowd continued to cheer and applaud, their enthusiasm growing. This was precisely what you had hoped to hear. It seemed that the people were also pleased. You admired Geta's personal development and believed with all your heart that he would do what he promised.
Now it was time. It was time for you and your husband to return to your home in peace.
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ShadowClan has three random kittens that are literally just an invention of Su Susann that the family tree canonized. Quietkit, Rubblekit, and Turetlekit as the children of Ashheart and Cinderfur. I know you already included them to your old family tree as dead kits, but I've always liked their names too much to just let them be family tree randos. They offer some nice presence for tpb/to as they're probably around the Frostfour's age
These ones won't even be Glitch Warriors, I consider them "Kit Saves" in the sense that they do appear in the book but died young! Though they did get names from Su Susann, they are textually referenced in the opening of TPB: Rising Storm.
An owl swoops and attacks Nightstar's den, and we get this;
The "silver queen" here is said to be Ashheart. There's no one else it could be, anyway-- ShadowClan only has one silver molly during TPB, unless Yellowfang's mentor Deerleap is out here refusing to die, or one of the silver toms is doing a Rowanclaw. The father is said to be Cinderfur, but it could really be anyone.
(there's also this bizarre thing where there's like, 2 or 3 unnamed silver tabby warriors who keep appearing in background scenes. Are Wolfstep, Flintfang, and Boulder just painting stripes on themselves sometimes? Is Archeye forgetting he's an elder?)
So, their lives were short, but these three kits were absolutely canon. Since future material would definitely pull their names from the website, I'm comfortable saying Quiet, Turtle, and Rubble are as good as real.
I also happen to quite like their names, ngl, I've got a few fun little plans for them in BB;
Their warrior names are Rubbleflower, Turtlebelly, and Quietnose.
Blackstar's "naming tendency" is that he likes to give somewhat rude names. It's a very ShadowClan sort of thing to do.
Rubbleflower means "Flower struggling to grow out of a mess," Turtlebelly means "Always hungry," and Quietnose means "don't sneeze."
In terms of BB familial changes, I want to make Cinderfur NOT be Stumpytail's brother, and instead make him Ashheart's littermate.
My thought is that they were born to Cinderfur under Queen's Rights, but when he died in Runningnose's Plague, Ashheart adopted them and Stumptail stepped in to help.
(Stumptail was also targeted by Runningnose's plan, as one of Deerfoot's Rebels. He got sick but survived, eventually helping HalfClan cats escape TigerClan.)
I haven't entirely figured out Rubble's and Quiet's personalities yet, but Turtlebelly is going to become the Head of Kitchen Patrol shortly into Po3.
She's getting a secondary apprenticeship under Hammerclaw (im making her real), or Hammer's kid Wishbone, depending on how the timeline shakes out.
I'm not sure how long her tenure is going to last, though. She's going to get through Blackstar's lapse in faith, the Battle of the Truth Eclipse, and possibly Yellowcough, but Darktail and The Kin might do her in. They'll be doing a general purge of high-ranking ShadowClan cats, such as the old Educator, Smokefall.
But she CAN cook, so they might end up keeping her around.
In any case, Turtlebelly is going to be replaced as Kitchen Head by BB!ASC. Either violently, or by retiring.
Rubble and Quiet will probably be the ones to have kittens, in her family. She doesn't dislike kids or anything, she's just not enthusiastic about them. Prefers to be the cool aunt.
Speaking of-- Rubbleflower is the only boy. Quiet and Turtle are mollies.
Open to input on Quiet and Rubble in particular. I like how Rubblekit's wiki sprite is weirdly green, I'm trying to find some kind of fun way to work that into his personality somehow. Maybe he's one of the big brains behind Blackstar's Bog Project.
Look at this green ass cat
#BB!Quietkit#BB!Rubblekit#BB!Turtlekit#Rubbleflower#Turtlebelly#Quietnose#I had an older name for Quiet but I thought of this one and it's infinitely more fitting for what kinda namer BB!Blackstar is lmaoo#Better Bones AU
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Long Time, No Shear - Ch. 01
A sheepish Fae-girl is desperate for someone to shear her for the summer, and to not be weird about it.
There’s a human on Dolly’s doorstep — and she’s naked.
Okay. No, not literally. Per human customs this is all completely appropriate, if a little avant-butch, for the current weather. Black boots and denim short-shorts; enough chains to lose count; loose, side-slit tank that makes her toned, tanned arms part of the outfit; no attempt to hide the lace bra underneath — citrine yellow, to match the sun beating down on her.
And Dolly, snout pressed on the window, feels like she can see all of her.
But— she’s here because Dolly invited her and Dolly can sympathise, because it has been three weeks since she was supposed to have been sheared and she is melting.
(It is though 100% the humans’ fault this is the 8th ‘hottest summer’ — on record, in a row.)
And so there she is, pressing forward through the curtains, trying not to be noticed while she works up the courage, when all of a sudden the human looks at her.
And waves.
---
sheep-goat Fae needs EMERGENCY help w/ summer shear. Can be reg if not weird
Last posted 18 hours ago on Fluffr, the dating-slash-bulletin app for Fae and panel-vetted humans. Yes, humans named it.
It still takes a weird person to apply to the panel, unless they got Fae-referred but that’s got pitfalls too; it also went public after the grants dried up, and has gotten worse because of that particular human-neoliberal urge to overdevelop everything into ruins; and it’s where she met her Wolf-Fae ex — the one who dumped her four weeks ago. But:
It’s still better than the human apps.
Because Dolly doesn’t need this to become a weird sex thing because it’s already super intimate and freaky — and it’s what every human she meets on their apps tries anyway.
Y’know, before she shuts them down and they false-report her till she’s banned.
None of this is the Dolly-in-distress’ preference. Not by the length of a thousand leylines.
---
“Hey. Sorry about that,” Dolly says, sheepishly.
“You’re all good,” the human replies, a smile perched beneath her silver-rimmed aviators. “I’m looking for someone in need of a bit of help, roommate maybe?”
“Dolly! Yeah. That’s me,” Dolly cuts in.
She points to the thin, white line traced on the interior doorframe, “You see the chalk? It’s a shadowskin enchantment, here and on the windows. Makes me look human from the outside, your side, so no one stares.”
“Ace! Makes total sense. Fiona, by the way,” Fiona says, as she steps past the threshold.
Behind the aviators her eyes glimmer, and Dolly has to remind herself it’s just the dispelled illusion and not— “You are a beaut, but I see yer problem.”
She’s glad Fiona can see the smooth, mottled-white velvet on her face now, because even from across the street anyone looking in would be seeing her cheeks swell up with a redcap-crimson blush.
“Girlfriend broke up on ya, didn’t she?” Fiona asks, a little idly.
“Mutual! It… was… mutual,” Dolly bleats, biting down on a full-blown shriek. “Okay. No. But she did it at the worst time and—” She breathes in the infodump, stops herself, curls in an outstretched finger and restarts, “Remember what I said on Fluffr about privacy?”
Fiona winces, hard, and Dolly has to smother her mirror of it, cursing at herself in her own head for not sucking it up. It’s nothing I didn’t tell her, justifying the post and shit. She was just—
“Yeah nah, totally,” Fiona says to her relief. “Just out to help a fellow gal in need.”
(Fellow. Yeah. Dolly also had to tell her in those DMs that Dolly was trans — up the freak-show sentiment even further — because there was no way around Fiona seeing it.
Humans could never tell otherwise, even though her horns were still buck-sized.
She was half-goat anyway, which explains away most irritating questions she gets from them — even if they still didn’t stop staring at the black thigh-high wool pattern on her legs.)
Dolly tries to move on, before Fiona stepping back over boundaries also means out the door, “Thanks. You’ve got uhh— experience. Right?”
Fiona’s nerves are swallowed in a moment. “Reckon!” she says, bouncing on her feet. “I was a kid when there was still livestock on the big, industrial farms. Went to the sheep-stations each year to help out; docking lambs in the spring and the like.”
(When Fiona had mentioned her ‘experience’ in DMs Dolly convinced herself it was practical. Human ethics have been catching up since Fae unveiled themselves a few decades back, after the Vampires, but it was still… weird.)
Did she have to specify docking? Dolly thinks as her tail twitches, and thinks Fiona can see her trying to hide it, and that Dolly can see that Fiona can see that, and that—
“That’s… okay? You’re okay?”
“Ahh! Yep. It’s helpful, not weird,” Dolly answers desperately. “Well, it’s a little weird, but it always is. Just remember that I’m very much sapient and talkative.”
She steps into the next room without looking, hoping Fiona is still with her.
---
“Alright girl, are ya ready?” Fiona asks, observing Dolly scurrying over the plastic mat that covers the floor, making sure it’s tightly held at each corner by a chair or spare textbooks.
“Uhh, one minute. Could you— look away?” asks Dolly, bringing a long-clawed paw to the neck of her shirt. “I know you’re gonna look back but—”
Fiona turns. She’s not giving you a striptease, she thinks to herself, pottering over to the sideboard to distract herself, “This is the stuff here?”
Dolly watches as Fiona inspects her life-long assembled kit — explains, “Yeah. I had to figure out what was best for me. Was not cheap.” Fiona whistles in agreement, as she slides a slim pair of double-bow metal shears out of the sunlight.
“I know this girl who can roo, so lucky,” Dolly adds, jerking about as her pencil-skirt stretches over her fluff-plumpened ass and— “Okay, ready.”
She sees Fiona tee-up herself, nabbing the electric handpiece. “No wide combs, I like it. Grandpa used to say we lost the union to those things,” she says, before turning back around and instinctively sizing Dolly up.
“Huh… like a whether,” she mutters under her breath.
Dolly has tried desperately to never learn the terminology; doesn’t think when she idly asks Fiona, “Excuse me?”
“Comb on the handpiece: anything bigger than 2.5 inches is a ‘wide’ comb,” Fiona answers obliviously. “So you can go faster, and get paid less. I suppose it makes sense to go smaller, and you’re not looking to sell the fleece are ya?”
(She had — once. When she still had rent to pay, and was needily short, so went and sold it on a Fae-fetish site for a shameful and incredible amount. And still thinks about it sometimes.)
Right now, her hooves grind anxiously into the floor. “No, Fiona. The other thing?”
The human’s round eyes tumble back into the abyss of their sockets, as Fiona’s brow rises in concert with realising what she’s said; something Dolly hasn’t the expertise to know, only the foolishness to ask. She doesn’t answer. Dolly feels the plastic fibres beginning to snag under her circling hoof.
“Say it, or go and don’t help me,” she demands at last.
“It’s a… castrated male,” Fiona says, biting her cheeks. “Sorry. Maybe I should go anyway? It was a bit of a heinous thing to say—”
“Nope. No, you’re doing it now,” Dolly tells her, making it obvious she’s guilting her. “Or, maybe I pull out Fluffr and report you?”
Tormenting her too — all while utterly in the fluff, Fae-adapted phone stylus in hand.
Fiona twists at her shirt, briefly exposing a rippling mid-riff, “You wouldn’t… really?”
Dolly makes a show of walking up, tucking the stylus into a stationary-drowned mug, and looks at her. “Fiona, I’m fucking with you. You apologised, and I’m desperate here.”
“It really is that bad?” Fiona mutters, as much about the overcoat as realising her pitiful remorse is far better than Dolly must usually get.
“You know what crutching is?” Dolly asks.
Fiona nods.
“Eugh. And, it’s a fifth of my body weight. Roughly. And fuck it’s so hot these days.”
“Yeah nah, lost my hometown to a wildfire,” Fiona says, a little dissonantly chipper about it. “Why I moved here to be honest with ya.”
“Shit. Sorry I’m—”
“Our fault,” Fiona reassures. Meaning humans. “Not yours. Just tryna help.”
“You really are, y’know.”
She sinks to her knees, leaning forward and pressing her thighs together to hide herself a little, and coaxes Fiona to join her. “My girlfriend— my ex— she promised to help me after the breakup ‘cos I was due but well… ghosted me, then blocked me after I called.”
(Six voicemails. The first few reminders; the last few begging.)
“The other options are like pay three hundred pounds to get nude at a hairdressers, and/or livestream the thing on a fetish site to break-even,” Dolly continues, knowing exactly what that site is called. “Yeah… nah.”
Fiona listens, but doesn’t look, focused on setting a few implements down before taking an offered arm to follow her down. “Wow, you’re soft.”
“Uhh, yeah? Unlike the sheep you’re used to, I don’t like live in a field,” Dolly says sardonically. “I get a bath in this place.”
“Sweetheart, you’ve got an entrance hall, lounge, staircase. It’s heaps better than ninety-percent of the places in this city. Certainly better than the box I’m allowed to rent,” Fiona retorts, flipping the handpiece on.
Dolly lets out a small, nervous titter. The way humans tangled up their housing with markets seemed remarkably silly. “Adjustment funds, the Greater London—”
Fiona swipes, a whole ream of Dolly-fluff falling off of her.
“Hey-hey-hey! Wait!” Dolly squeals, Fiona blinking as she rushes to pause and Dolly collects herself. “You uh— need to go slower than that.”
“Sorry, sweetheart. Was just thinking you’d want me to be… efficient.”
She smiles plaintively, “I mean, I do. It’s just I wanna make sure it’s not scruffy, or messy, or obvious. ‘Cos that would take weeks to grow out. It’s best to sort of—” She holds her breath, and looks at Fiona who’ll never be more ready for this.
“Go slow and hold me down.”
Fiona swallows, wishing it was light beer and not the sheep-girl’s dignity going down.
“And that’s… where people get really weird, right?” she asks.
“Yep.”
If they somehow got this far.
“Like, seriously — how do I explain on an ad: hiya, I need a girl to pin my nude body down and spend four-to-five hours groping me and not somehow make it a weird sex thing.
And, y’know, not make it too much of a regular weird thing either.”
She sighs; rearranges herself to lean back into Fiona, bumping horn into chest.
“Throat’s best to start,” she says, after a moment.
Fiona’s hand reaches slowly, constantly darting her eyes back-and-forth for consent and, not seeing any complaint, takes Dolly at the horn and pulls her low till she’s able to line the handpiece up against the notch at the base of her neck. She closes her eyes, a little unemboldened. The lambs never talked back to her or looked this cute.
“Come on,” Dolly interrupts. “I’d like to wear clothes again today.”
Fiona fumbles, and blinks open, and the lamb in her arms just laughs. It’s difficult not to, there isn’t a way this isn’t absurd and Fiona thinks she gets that now.
Her gaze focuses, a little less nervous this time. A smile creeps to the corner of her mouth, “No worries. I’ll get ‘er right, sweetheart.”
---
Three hours in, and Fiona’s just now reached Dolly’s hips. The arms were simple, if a bit too close to being nipped once or twice; the back came off clean, and Dolly doesn’t admit she thinks about that site again; the tits weren’t bad — mostly covered in the same velvet that’s on her face, all the way down to her— y’know.
(Dolly also absolutely does not mention the three times she came this morning. Not for any sort of pleasure, spirits no. But to make sure there’s as little chance as possible that she gets hard from the super-hot, basically-nude butch handling her like— well, like a sheep.)
The ass was mild torture; Fiona tearing her facial muscles to shreds in the sternest wince of her life, as she held up Dolly’s fat, soft cheeks to clean up the folds where her ass met her thighs. Dolly, at least, holding herself in a grim but merciful silence of solidarity, till at last both rushed to kick back into listing off more of their shared, fascinating, and agonising spars with each of the respective departments of the Home Office that exists to make their lives a bureaucratic nightmare.
It made it all too easy for Fiona to forget Dolly was even supposed to wear clothes, until she was looking at her bend down to a cupboard to fetch mugs for a strongly needed tea-break, even in the present heat.
But, it’s smooth now, and so she runs a hand serenely down the small of Dolly’s back, not thinking of anything more than just making sure the girl’s cut is clean and consistent — till her hand reaches that newly-shorn ass and—
Bleat!
It’s the tiniest sound Fiona has ever heard, and it sounds hot.
What comes after is worse than the ass-silence. Fiona tries not to panic, hopes that Dolly didn’t feel the still in Fiona’s slide, but before she can click on the handpiece to continue—
“Oh— God. I am so sorry,” Dolly squeals.
“No, no. It’s okay,” Fiona protests but Dolly is wrestling out of her lap and she doesn’t dare stop her, as the self-excoriated sheep covers her mouth in shock.
Fiona tries to raise her hands in surrender, “I-I wasn’t thinking. Or rather thinking of you like a— I just wanted to check it was all the right length.”
“Fiona, you heard that right. I sounded like I was—” Dolly buries her face into the unshaven fluff of her thighs, butting the tip of her snout through to sniffle at the air. “You know what I said earlier…. weird sex thing. Like I’d never mean to, it’s just you’re hot and I can feel all of you. And I know how dumb that sounds coming out of me and with what the weather’s like but I’m used to people wearing like— more than that when they’re shearing me.”
She parts herself like Moses, and looks at Fiona clenching herself in awkward horror.
It really doesn’t help how it makes all her muscles flex.
“I-I’ve made it weird, not you,” Dolly whines; crucifies herself on the plastic sheet, “You can stop there, and I can wear shorts or a skirt so you don’t need to shave my legs.”
No one’ll notice the bulge. Shadowskin can take care of it. Right?
“Are you sure?” Fiona asks, tentatively placing her on Dolly’s knee and sinking it down a bit into her coat. Forcefully enough to both reach her wayward lamb, and to demonstrate the problem still there. “It’s really okay, that was totally me. I just sort of—
forgot the artwork for the canvas it was on.”
Dolly looks up, jerks a horrifically undecided croak out of her throat, and asks, “Did you prepare that one? You don’t… you don’t think this is a date, do you?”
There’s no velvet to hide the crimson shame that courses across Fiona’s cheeks, nor the same cushioned thighs to tuck them behind. “No, no, definitely not. Sorry,” she cries. “I know what you said too, and I don’t wanna be another weird human that you’re suffering for… basic care! It was just that you seemed… cute? And I don’t know, it feels nice to rescue a gal in need. I-I didn’t expect anything, I just… didn’t want to say no if you liked me too.”
The sheep stares at her, tilted head and pursed lips. Dolly can’t tell what reaction she’s having, which bloody well means Fiona won’t be able to.
Instead she slides back across the plastic and lies on her back, pulling her legs up till each forms a triangle. It does the trick.
“Should do the legs, shouldn’t I,” Fiona says — and Dolly is glad she didn’t have to ask.
---
The door is open, and Fiona hovers at not-quite the threshold unsure if she should be on the inside or the outside of it. Of the chalk line, Dolly’s rather literal boundary.
Dolly at least is— Fiona can’t admit it, not now, but she’s beautiful. To see the whole of her not in shittily-taken photo-form — her stylus is there for a reason it seems — but all in motion, as she stretched and shook and wiggled her tail and shorn-at-last self.
It’s hard not to feel proud too, of a job done well, of a girl saved.
The magic — the metaphorical, right now — worn off though leaves Dolly hovering too. She looks about as stressed as when Fiona showed up, but she hopes it’s only in a way that’s her fault — and that it’ll be quickly settled when she’s been booted out the door never to see her again.
“Uhh. Hey,” Dolly says, sheepishly, like Fiona was just coming in again. “You really helped me out a lot today.”
“No drama, sweetheart,” Fiona replies, the points of boots tip-tapping as she looks down at herself. “But, I should’ve dressed up better, didn’t think at all it’d be such a bother for you. Or— not a bother but— not your fault.”
“No I— It’s cool. You look good.”
“Oh… Thanks.”
She takes a step back, pulls out her aviators and tries to flip them on but Dolly just reaches out and takes her at the wrist. They stare at each other for a moment, but Dolly doesn’t let go, and Fiona doesn’t shake her off.
“Would you wanna help me next time?” Dolly asks, in more of a squeak than a sensible, unheated whisper. “It’s in a few months time… a lighter cut, for autumn.”
She drops Fiona, watches nervously as Fiona’s own nerves creep across her face, “Oh, I mean, sure! Would you wanna meet up before then, maybe? I don’t know, just to help things be more… normal.”
Dolly laughs, sweet on the afternoon breeze that’s sweeping in. “Now it’s a date?”
Fiona’s tongue wants instinctively to slither down her throat, but she thinks she can spot one of the girl’s teases by now — and she probably does have all the right to be a little mean.
“If you’d like it to be,” Fiona teases back. “But — for real — I’m still happy to help.”
Dolly huffs, and smiles in eminent satisfaction, “Then yeah, we can call it a date.”
It’s when Dolly’s peering through the curtains a few minutes later that she sees Fiona, thinking she can’t be seen, stop at short distance down the street and dance with glee for just a precious, delightful moment, before she looks back with a dumb, fond smile on her face and it just cracks when she realises Dolly can still see her.
And Dolly waves.
And Fiona can see her blush.
---
(Masterpost) / (Next)
#melinoë writes#f/f#butch4femme#lesbian writers#sheep furry#please don't hate me furries i love you#for all the freaks who correctly bully me for being a sheep girl#i think i'm legally obligated to get my sheep fursona now#this sat in my drafts for 10 months dear god
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PLEASE FEED US MORE JUST AS DOWN BAD GOLDEN CHEESE. PLEASE MORE YANDERE CHEESE
Did you send two asks in a row screaming for more Accidental Yandere Golden Cheese lol. Calm down brotato, Merchant is here. Merchant sees you (and everyone else in my inbox I swear to God Almighty I will address you all eventually). Let me see what I've got in my noodle for you
Under the cut because this is fucked and gets a little extra graphic at one particular point lol
Golden Cheese actually has tried to gather the identities of those Burning Spice has murdered. What she wasn't able to glean on her own, from her own personal knowledge of other lands and peoples (i.e. noticing certain traits she knows to be endemic to certain cultures, like a hair accessory or something), she found in books and scrolls in her kingdom's library that gave her a better idea. Whatever she couldn't find in those, she found via sending cheesebirds to travel far and wide in search of any kingdoms, cities, villages, families and friend groups with confirmed missing persons. They would report back to her and, with all the knowledge she's gathered, she's able to find a name, which she then wrote onto a label and placed under the person it belonged to. She's managed to eventually give all the heads their identities/personhood back, at least to some degree. And now, knowing who these people are/were, she can get them back to their loved ones easier. Right? ...Right? (She tries not to progress beyond being proud of herself for going that extra mile, because it just leads back to "ok so why are the heads still here, why haven't you returned them". In trying to do the right thing, she ultimately just does the WRONG thing again and reinforces her preexisting guilt and shame, because... she knows exactly why she hasn't returned them...)
Golden has started... experimenting with Spice, for lack of a better term. After she was proven correct about him paying attention when she mentions someone she doesn't like and later killing that specific person for her, she starts testing him in other ways. She makes subtle suggestions about how he ought to kill people, to see how he responds in the moment and if he actually ends up doing it later. She tries to coax him into going into detail about how the killing went, just to see if and how he does so (turns out he really does like to brag about his crimes, especially to her). She tries to hint at him giving her other things besides body parts, like certain trinkets (it... sort of works. If she asks for a watch, he... brings her a severed arm with a watch attached to it still, for example). She's observing how far he'll go and in which direction he's willing to travel in at her suggestion. (...And she revels in how much power it turns out she has over him. She really does have him at her beck and call. It's lovely.)
When her friends ask her how she's been managing her Beast (they are aware that hers is still actively targeting her, but that's it), she acts as nonchalant as possible. Burning Spice is nothing. He's just a fly buzzing around her head. She handles him just fine. When they ask her how they can help, she tells them she doesn't need it, because she doesn't want them anywhere near him she really is fine. It's fine. She's fine. When they suggest going after him themselves... thank goodness she's a good actress and a quick thinker, because her very first REAL reaction was seething fury that she had to keep under control until she was alone again - but then, when she finally is, she just has another crisis of conscience, because now she has to confront the fact that she can no longer tolerate the notion of him being harmed by anyone besides herself. She used to want him dead or imprisoned by any means necessary, but now... now, she lies about his whereabouts to everyone who asks (and she always knows where he is, she snuck a tracking device onto him), because she doesn't want anyone coming near him for any reason anymore, least of all to harm him. Because only SHE can harm him now. He still comes to fight her, not just to give her things. And she obliges him, albeit begrudgingly (never mind the sick satisfaction she feels when she hurts him or takes him down. She wonders if this feeling is what he's referring to in those letters about him reveling in their battles and how he enjoys her suffering). She... she won't let that end. She won't let anyone get in the way. In his way. In THEIR way. She can handle him by herself. Everyone else can stay home. They won't take him away from her. She cannot guarantee their safety if they try.
She once idly wondered about his past. About the people he likely once had in his life. About... if he'd ever been fond of any other women. She could hardly fathom the hatred that utterly overwhelmed her senses when the thought entered her mind. So angry was she that she broke the glass of water in her hand in said anger and injured herself. So haunted by this notion did she end up, that she tried to ask him about it the next time they met (as subtly as possible; she understands the implications of asking such a thing). He just shrugged and said he didn't recall; the only woman that mattered to him was her. She hated how relieved she felt when he told her that...
...but after that day, and for a good while, he only targeted women. He kept killing adult women and bringing their heads to her, and no one else's. She quickly surmised that he might have noticed her jealousy (or at least imagined she was jealous) and immediately set out to prove his devotion to her further than before by destroying those she feels threatened by - even if the threat does not exist, for she is all he ever wanted. He never told her directly, but she figured that's what it was. And she allowed herself to believe it. Because it made her happy.
(When the women-only killing spree eventually ended, she was struck with morbid curiosity and asked him about the men he killed. Was there anything behind the ones he chose? He revealed to her that, though his targets were mostly random, he would go out of his way to kill any man that he thought she might find attractive. He was capable of feeling threatened, just like she was. It was quite the surprise... a surprise she welcomed, a surprise she found deeply amusing. Because really, what was left for her to find attractive in anyone anymore, when no one went as far as he did to earn her favor?)
She actually does find him handsome. She always has, from the beginning. It was something she considered to be a great shame; such good looks squandered on such a horrible man. But now... with her greed slowly spiraling out of control thanks to him constantly overfeeding it the way he does with his violent extremism... she's starting to dare to find that extremism handsome, too. She's slowly but surely ceasing to find any shame in the circumstance. She's starting to think he's handsome... and that's it, that's the end of the thought. He's handsome, with all of that blood coating his face and body. He's handsome, puffing his chest out and beaming with such sick pride at the handiwork he performed for her. He's handsome, in his maddened, unwavering dedication to her. He's handsome... no asterisk, no addendum, no ifs ands or buts. He's handsome. Burning Spice is handsome. It weighs on her like a stone. And it only gets heavier each time he sees him and his handsome face again.
Sometimes... just sometimes... she'll reread those letters that are particularly... steamy. There's something rather fascinating about them, in a different way than the others. They're so... uniquely visceral. She believes him when he tells her he's starving; his hunger practically lunges at her from the page, claws at her, sinks its teeth into her, sets her body alight. Pure, unashamed, blistering hot lust and sexuality, with some of that same addiction to violence mixed in (he's a sadomasochist, go figure). People have flirted with Golden before... but not like this. No one on earth has ever dared to speak to her so brazenly, not even after several pints of liquid courage. He talks about wanting to break her bed as well as she herself. He tells her how often he touches himself to the thought of her. He details exactly where he wants to put his hands. Where he wants to put his mouth. What he intends to say straight into her ears as they go, and what he wants her to say back to him. How he doesn't want to stop until they both collapse with exhaustion. Just neverending feverish rants about he wishes to destroy her in more ways than one, and how he expects her to scream and beg either way. She won't admit it, not even to herself, the thought tried to make itself known inside of her head once and she shoved it down and tried to bury it under concrete instantly, but... she's almost... intrigued. She's flattered, of course. She relishes this aspect of his insatiable appetite for her alongside all the others. (She likes being told she's pretty. He does that and then some.) But... some small part of her is... curious. Curious about... if he really would follow through on what he says he wants to do, if he really had the chance. How it would feel. How HE would feel. What the difference would really be between him overpowering her to win a fight and him overpowering her to... to...
...there are nights where she lays awake, drilling holes into the ceiling with her bloodshot eyes, wondering where it all went wrong. There are nights where all that succeeds in putting her to sleep are the warm, bitter tears that stream down her face when the guilt and shame grow too powerful. There are nights where she just gets up and leaves, throws herself out of her own window and flies off somewhere, anywhere, it doesn't matter - it just had to be somewhere she couldn't feel dozens of empty, lifeless eyes watching her through the walls. Judging her. Condemning her. Damning her to Hell, where she and the monster who ended their lives belonged.
...and then, there are nights where she feels... strange. Where she notices how... big her bed really is, and how small she feels laying in it. She wonders how it would feel if he was there. If she could nest in his thick, strong arms instead of thin bedsheets. How much more comfortable his chest would feel, compared to her pillow. If his hair was as soft as it looked. How he'd react if she started tracing his tattoos with her fingertips. If sharing a tender moment like that would awaken something in him. If it would somehow help him realize how wrong all of this is.
...Or maybe it would just make it worse.
Maybe she doesn't care anymore.
#y'all gotta stop encouraging me like this lol#i TOLD YOU I love writing dark shit and crazy people. Stop enabling me#jk keep enabling me please this is fun#cookie run kingdom#burning spice cookie#golden cheese cookie#burningcheese#goldenspice#yandere beasts#suggestive
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@men-want-me-fish-fear-me gave me Lucius brainworms. Melt it
Summary: A hunt for a pet doesn't go as expected. Word Count: 762 Content Warnings: Smut, Pred/Prey, Lucius the Eternal, body horror, in my mind this is all consensual but I didn't specify in this fic so dubcon i guess, masc reader, public? Emperor's Children that are even worse than him. Also SMUT and potentially into DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT territory Image Credit: @squishyowl
The link in the chain snapped with a pop, and you knew it was time to run. You tripped over batteries and other such things he considered snacks, leaving marks and gashes in your bare feet. Fuck. You adjusted the small loincloth over your privates as you got back up. He was not only a Space Marine, but a gelatinous abomination and and affront to all gods but Slaanesh. You knew he knew you were free.
You opened the door, paying no mind to how loud it was. There were faces in the wall of Lucius's quarters, shrieking and yowling in pain.
"Run," one of them said.
"I'm fucking trying," you huffed under your breath as you left his quarters.
The ship was empty, eerily so. You felt the fleshy floor under your feet, and groaned as you started walking forwards. There weren't many full faces in here, thank goodness, but you felt a tooth every once in a while.
It wasn't long before you heard familiar, heavy steps. Slaaneshi mutations affected everyone in different ways; it gave Lucius fleshy hooves and made his tongue long and sandpaper-y. You shivered as you fumbled for another door, opening it with even more force than the last one.
There were the Emperor's Children, far away, but a flank was headed in your direction. You shrunk yourself back to avoid notice by them. The only thing more dangerous than Lucius was one of his brothers; in particular, any that didn't particularly like him.
You heard them picking up their pace. Shit. You looked for anything to hide in, hide behind. There was a tentacle sticking up from the floor, but in a cruel act of Slaanesh, it slipped back into the ground.
"What's over there?" one of the Emperor's Children asked.
You froze. You tried to stay still, but they bolted towards you with ungodly weapons in hand. Your eyes widened, and before you knew it, one of them grabbed you by the neck. You tensed up while he lifted you up to his face. His eyeholes glowed slightly, lighting up more as he spoke.
"Hmm..." he said, running a finger along your jaw. "Baseline."
Another one laughed. "Don't see those too often!" His helmet lit up just like his brother's.
The third one nodded. "Might be someone's pet. Be careful."
You were about to sigh with relief before the first removed his helmet. There was a horrid speaker where his mouth was supposed to be, and his eyes were two small black dots right where the bridge of his nose was supposed to be. You felt his breath? Noise? Upon your face. You shut your eyes, prepared for the worst, until a voice broke the silence.
"Hey! That's mine!"
You breathed a sigh of relief as Lucius came after you. His footsteps were rather squishy sounding, even more so than anyone's would be on this floor.
The Emperor's Children dropped you, scurrying away as he brandished his blade at them. His tongue was out, swaying behind him like a stray tentacle. He really did look like the galaxy's ugliest dog.
You tried to get back up onto your feet, but you stumbled on the fleshy ground of the ship. You felt him get closer to you, picking you up by your armpits. He looked you up and down, unhooking one hand to thumb at the bruise the first Emperor's Child left.
"I will deal with this..." he said, and you thought he was going to put you down for a second before he opened his mouth again.
"Later."
You nodded, going limp in his grasp. His green eyes surveyed you further, looking over every inch of exposed skin. He flicked the bruises and cuts on your feet, and you let out a yelp. His skin felt gelatinous on yours. It seemed he was melting as he touched you.
All of a sudden, he dropped you. You looked back at him, inching away. He chuckled.
"Go on. Are you going to run?"
You felt a lump manifest in your throat as your arms and legs failed you. You landed on a tooth near the surface of the floor as you went limp. That was going to bruise later. He let out a full on belly laugh, looming over you. He blocked out what little light there was in the hallway. He leaned down and licked your cheek with that sandpaper-y tongue.
"I'm going to fill you up with more cum than you have organs," he said, grabbing your ankle as you struggled under him.
"Pet."
Taglist: @bispecsual @justeverythingnothingelse @bleedingichorhearts @nekotaetae @historitor-bookshelf
#lucius the eternal x reader#lucius the eternal#warhammer 40k x reader#space marine x reader#emperor's children x reader#reader insert#warhammer lobotomy
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Looking at the world from a manager's perspective, you can productively model the pool of workers as being divided into a few basic groups, which are defined and characterized by their driving motivations.
Insert all the usual disclaimers for this sort of thing - this is the roughest type of rough typology. I pulled these categories out of my raw intuition, and possibly a few more would crop up with some additional thought. In reality, the boundaries of these categories are incredibly fuzzy, and almost every individual is actually going to be motivated by a complicated mix of all the relevant motivations; we're talking REALLY SIMPLE HEURISTICS here. Etc.
There have been other well-known worker typologies that share a lot in common with my thoughts here; this is mostly not novel, it's mostly meant to refine a few ideas for particular purposes.
Hustlers are motivated by concrete personal advantage. Most commonly, and most straightforwardly, they want money - as much of it as they can get. They may also be interested in fame, idiosyncratic perks, etc. They do whatever they have to do in order to get what they want.
No surprise: you see huge preponderances of these guys in fields that provide outsize concrete rewards, e.g. finance, the upper echelons of management, etc. But not every natural-born Hustler is in a position to enter a glitzy high-paying field, and in fact you find Hustlers all throughout society and all throughout the economy, finding or making hustles wherever they go.
Having Hustlers working for you is mostly pretty great. They get shit done. They can be induced to work incredibly hard - probably harder than anyone else, under most circumstances - and they'll shank their own mothers if the price is right. If you need anything really important from them, anything at all, it's just a matter of bribing them enough.
...they will also, of course, cheerfully shank you if the price is right. Hustlers aren't the only wellsprings of institutional politics and infighting, but they're the most dangerous ones; they're always potential rivals to everyone around them. Also, you need to keep the tangible rewards flowing in a steady stream in order to get anything out of them, or else they'll put most of their effort into jumping ship (one way or another).
Craftsmen are motivated by the desire to do good work in their chosen fields, for its own sake and for the sake of their treasured self-image as people who do good work.
As you'd expect, for the most part, they're excellent workers and should be prized. But they're not perfect workers. Common weaknesses and downsides include:
They tend to have their own ideas about How Things Should Get Done; they're often resistant to externally-imposed product/service requirements or process changes (and bad at implementing those things) (no matter how important or well-conceived they are), and they're very resistant to "just get it out the door, right now done is better than good."
Being driven chiefly by internal motivation is great, but sometimes it's useful to be able to push things along with external motivators, and Craftsmen are pretty resistant to those. They don't like working more or harder than they're naturally inclined to work, they mostly sneer at carrots, and sticks make them sad and unproductive.
It's important to note that, while noteworthy skill within a field correlates with having a Craftsman temperament and motivation suite - for obvious reasons - those things are not identical at all. Plenty of Craftsmen are bad at their jobs, or just average, and plenty of the best workers are most motivated by things other than the Excellence of the Work Itself.
Fanatics are a relatively rare and specialized group, whom you find mostly within a few specific sorts of culturally-valorized fields. They're motivated by a desire to be part of something Important and Good in a Broader Sense: to Save the World, or some smaller-bore version of that.
They make amazing front-line soldiers, in the sorts of institutions that have "front-line soldiers." They work super hard, and you don't even need to bribe them, you just need to keep them hopped up on inspiration.
The big problem with them is that they're mostly motivated by a feeling - the feeling of Being Righteous - and it's not easy to control where they get that feeling, in any kind of precise way. They're just as resistant to external motivators as Craftsmen are, or even more so, but they're also not being guided by an ideal of effective quality. (No, not even if their chosen cause is theoretically all about an ideal of effective quality, hem hem.) They will happily waste vast amounts of time and money doing useless things, or even counterproductive things, so long as they're engaged in tasks that hit the right psychological buttons for them. There's also a constant risk that a Fanatic will decide that his employer is unrighteous, or that one of his coworkers is unrighteous, and start an internal conflict; the risk scales in a more-than-linear fashion with the number of Fanatics you keep around.
The biggest group, unsurprisingly, is the Normies. In most fields, it is much the biggest group. Normies are motivated by the desire to be members in good standing of their communities, to have positive relationships with the people around them, and to live up to basic norms and expectations.
Managerial skills, in the traditional sense, are incredibly important with Normies. If you want them to do good work for you - and you should want that, as a manager, you've almost certainly got a whole bunch of them - not only do you have to keep them pointed in the right direction, you have to make sure that they're supporting each other. With Hustlers, you just have to throw money at them (and avoid their power plays); with Craftsmen, you just have to let them do their thing, and occasionally badger them into giving you what you need; with Fanatics, you just have to be inspirational; but with Normies, you have to lead, and construct a productive community. You have to set reasonable, achievable norms and expectations that will get you what you need.
This wouldn't be complete if I didn't talk about the Defectors. The Defectors are motivated by not working. They don't want to be there, they resent having to do their jobs, and their primary goal is to shirk as much as possible. They will, by default, put much more effort into shirking than into their assigned tasks.
Obviously, managers don't want to have to deal with them, for good reason. But they're out there, in large numbers - not always in the places and fields where you'd expect to find them - and learning to manage them is sometimes more viable than trying to get rid of them. ("Moving Heaven and Earth to find them jobs that will change their attitude" is often a good plan, although of course it's not always possible and not always worth it.)
Crucially, Defectors are not Normies. If you start with the assumption that the average baseline worker is lazy and sour, you will make some incredibly stupid decisions. There are some fields where, for structural reasons, you can expect that a very large number of your workers will be Defectors; this is a huge and complicated challenge, well beyond the scope of this post, and good luck to you if you have to handle it, but it's not the default.
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Once you have those categories in your head, and can play with them, a number of obvious-seeming ideas present themselves. Just a couple, for now:
Most high-level executives are Hustlers, or have strong Hustler tendencies, for obvious reasons. Most of the people around them are Hustlers, or have strong Hustler tendencies. This means that they tend to overweight the Hustler outlook, by a lot, when they try to model what their workers are like. More specifically, I'd wager that a lot of them intuitively divide the world into "good workers" ( = Hustlers) and "bad workers" ( = Defectors). This will lead to a heavy overreliance on tangible rewards, a systematic shortchanging of community-building, etc. Which is in fact just what we see.
In particular - crucially - Hustlers and Defectors are the only worker types who ever become more productive under heavy stress. Hustlers actually benefit from it, because it raises the stakes of the game that they're already playing. (If you succeed, you'll be king of the world! If you fail, you'll be shark food! Go go go!) Defectors suffer terribly from stress, of course, but they can sometimes be spooked into doing their jobs as opposed to doing nothing, and sometimes that's the best/easiest way to get something out of them. But stress is terrible for everyone else. Craftsmen lose their focus. Fanatics lose their hope. It's worst of all for Normies, because they take all their cues from the vibes around them; they're productive when they learn to associate work with comfort and happiness, and when you fill their working world with frantic desperation, you just put them in a permanent cringe state.
stop trying to pit your Normies against each other in competitions for status and rewards dear God what are you stupid
To some extent, you can control your institution by controlling what types of workers you have. But only to some extent. There are only so many Hustlers and Craftsmen to go around, and if you want them, you will have to (a) be able to identify them reliably on little information [HINT: you are probably very bad at this], and (b) provide them with what they want [tangible rewards / comfortable security and interesting work]. "We are going to employ only the good special people" is feasible if you're an outfit of four workers; at a dozen, it's already become a stretch; at a few hundred, uh, pfffffffft. If you want to operate at scale, you need to be able to make Normies do good work, there is no substitute for it.
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i am pre-t transmasc, when a poll you post opens with an identity that i am not ir something like "transmascs on testosterone: ---" i scroll past in instead of clicking "see results." i see lots of polls here where a top answer is "see results" because none of the answers applied to many of the users seeing them, and they just wanted to push a button. i scroll to try and avoid inaccurately representing the sample of people being surveyed, because i am not in the intended sample at all. is this okay for me to do? would you recommend that other people do the same?
it's obviously totally fine for you to just scroll past a poll, but the 'see results' button is there so anyone CAN see the results if they want. you're not inaccurately representing the sample at all by clicking it, because no one should be including the 'see results' bar when looking at the data anyway. it's meaningless. it quite literally represents "disregard this sample." simply look at the rest of the poll as its own thing, and there you go.
also, i don't think people hit see results because they "just want to push a button." they're curious about the results. there's a million good reasons to be curious about information and, imo, almost no bad reasons. in the particular case of a poll directed at "transmascs on T," maybe the results would interest you so that you would know what you're in for when you one day start. i imagine that's the case a lot of the time for ppl who wanna see the results.
and if a see results bar is large enough to ACTUALLY make it difficult to read the rest of the data, that should just tell you that this is the wrong platform to host that poll.
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IncuBlitz Part Three: Just an ex??
This is part three of a three-part analysis related to "Better Than Blitzo" (or "IncuBlitz" as I like to call him) and the look that he gave Blitz, right before he kissed Stolas.
Click here for Part One: His Tattoo, Part Two: Verosika, or keep reading to dive into Part Three: Just an ex??—what his personal motivations could be for taking the time to check if Blitz is watching before kissing Stolas.
My last theory, and the one that I think is the most likely, is that he’s just an ex of Blitz’s at the party who saw an opportunity and took it.
As we can see from when Blitz and Stolas first enter the room, IncuBlitz is already standing in perfect line of sight of where they sat down to have their conversation.
Considering that IncuBlitz doesn’t pop in until over five minutes later, when Stolas is breaking down, I think his intention was genuinely just to ‘rescue’ Stolas from the person who was making him upset.
It does beg the question though: Was his primary motivation to help out Blitz’s “freshest ex”? Or did it have more to do with the fact that the person bothering Stolas was actually Blitz?
There’s definitely no question that he does know that Stolas is the ‘freshest ex.’ He explicitly mentions Stolas’ song, saying that he has “great pipes,” where Stolas had been introduced by Verosika as the “special new guest of honor.”
But did he recognize Blitz? And if so, at what point?
As with Verosika, there are several times throughout the night when anyone could have noticed and recognized Blitz. But in addition to those mentioned earlier, there’s one moment in particular that I think kicked off the events that followed. During the scene where Stolas stands up on the couch, yelling, “Harriot! Don’t get on that train. It’s going to London, and I cannot be without you!” there’s at least one moment where Blitz’s full outfit is exposed. Not only was this in that same line of sight from where we’d originally seen IncuBlitz, but we can also see that the people he’d been standing next to, both turned to look directly at Stolas.
Whether or not he recognized Blitz in that moment, I do think it’s the moment that his attention was brought to Stolas and where it seems to have remained.
While it is possible that he was no longer standing in that exact spot anymore, we do know for a fact that he was still nearby.
Because 15 seconds later, when the point of view changes to Blitz, you can actually see IncuBlitz in the background, just a few feet away.
This places him well within earshot when Stolas wails at Blitz that he doesn’t want him there and to please go home, followed by a moment of distressed weeping.
Even then, we don’t actually see IncuBlitz pop in until it’s clear that Blitz is not only choosing to stay, but is also about to try engaging with Stolas further.
It’s at this point that not only does he interrupt them, but he explicitly does not look at nor react to Blitz throughout the entire exchange. In fact, it’s actually noted as an intentional detail in the official storyboard. Storyboard artist Tony Raphielle uploaded clips of this to YouTube three days after the episode was released.
They even noted in the video description that for this scene, the voice actors' performance was based on what was blocked out on the storyboard.
This is the reverse of how their earlier conversation was handled. For that scene, the voice acting was recorded first, with the storyboards being drawn afterward.
This leaves me even further convinced that IncuBlitz’s behavior and timing, from beginning to end, was very carefully crafted by the Spindlehorse team.
And finally, let’s discuss the kiss that shook Blitz, and many of us in the fandom, to the core.
Now, obviously, we can’t know at what point, if at all, that IncuBlitz recognized Blitz specifically as the person who was bothering Stolas.
But I personally feel confident that by the time he looked up at Blitz, right before that kiss, he knew exactly who he was messing with.
Because honestly, the entire context of the party would make it almost impossible for IncuBlitz to not have recognized him.
First and foremost, there’s the fact that Stolas’ invitation implies that the people in attendance either dated or at least had a brief encounter with Blitz.
There’s also imagery of Blitz plastered all over the place, with the exact same outfit that he wore to this party.
And if IncuBlitz somehow managed to miss recognizing him before whisking Stolas off to the dance floor, it would feel downright comical to me if he still did not recognize Blitz while he was up on the balcony.
Because not only is the tablecloth hanging open, revealing his signature outfit, but Blitz had also taken down his hood, leaving his hard-to-miss horns and unique forehead tattoo exposed to anyone who looked up.
Either way, the fact that IncuBlitz looked up at the person that he perceived to be bothering Stolas, right before he kissed him, in my opinion, was definitely intentional and personal.
And it’s entirely possible that it’s actually just as simple as that.
After digging into this and doing my best to analyze and consider all of the evidence, I personally think it’s the most likely explanation. That he was just someone at the party who saw an opportunity to help out Stolas and stick it to Blitz.
I am super curious though, to see if the show mentions IncuBlitz going forward and under what circumstances.
Considering that his canonical name in the credits is “Better Than Blitzo” Guy, I think it’s safe to assume that this will not be a recurring character.
I do hope that we at least get to hear if his interaction with Stolas ended on the dance floor or if they actually ended up spending the night, or several nights, together.
I will definitely be surprised if we don’t see at least one awkward moment between Blitz and Stolas related to this. Even if it’s just a nonverbal decision to not talk about that just yet.
#helluva boss#helluva boss analysis#helluva boss theory#better than blitzo#incublitz#stolitz#stolas#blitz#blitzo#blitzø#apology tour#onehelluvafan
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2024-25 Season Prediction Survey Results
Read below or read a better formatted version here
The second PWHL season looms heavy on the horizon, and with preseason camps underway, the prospect of change, a new season with new storylines and new team names and logos and new players, haunts us all. We may not all be sports experts, but after watching the first season for months and eagerly awaiting the second, we all have our own ideas of how season two might go. Whether they’re logical ideas or not will be seen upon the future, but I, lover of data and spreadsheets, decided to gather up all your opinions and predictions of how season two will go, from the biggest honor (The Walter Cup) to random questions regarding trades and penalty minutes
Team Predictions -
This was the easy part of the form. Minimal prior knowledge, you didn’t even need to know the team names because I put them all in as multiple choice questions. Hypothetically everyone could have just picked randomly and I wouldn’t be any the wiser. That being said, some interesting trends emerged from you folks, some predictable and some less so.
Walter Cup Winners: Boston Fleet or Montreal Victoire (35.3%)
This was probably one of the closest races beneath the team with only about a single vote difference between Boston winning it all and Montreal winning it all at any one time. As an entirely unbiased Boston fan and casual Montreal enjoyer, I think this prediction is definitely founded in something. Montreal and Boston project to be two of the stronger teams, but I also think I’m biased if only because of how many Montreal and Boston fans I see in comparison to other teams. With all that being said, I’d be disappointed but not surprised if some other less represented team (Seriously does no one believe New York can win? Even Ottawa got a single vote and y’all really hated Ottawa) wins it going away after a hot season. But as my father always says, that’s why we play the game and this game/series in particular is quite a far ways away.
Walter Cup Runner Ups: Montreal Victoire (35.3%)
Honestly, I was expecting pretty similar results for this question as the question above, after all if the general consensus is that one of those two teams will win the cup, then one of them would have to lose it, right? Well Montreal was right up there, but unexpectedly Toronto came in second with 24% of people having enough faith in Toronto getting to the finals and then very little faith in them actually winning it, girlfailures that they are. Montreal tied with them to get second in the cup, followed by Boston (please god don’t let it come to that I don’t think my heart could take two years in a row) and then the mish mash of the Sirens, Frost, and Charge.
First in the standings: Toronto Sceptres (32.4%)
So Montreal was leading this right up until I was actually writing and then I had to completely change my paragraph mid writing which was so much fun and definitely not irritating at all, but Toronto overtook Montreal for first, aiming for that repeat first in the standings and dare I be speaking sacrilege against the Victoire (who I do like more than the Sceptres) I honestly think they have a better chance. Like a 45% chance vs. a 40% chance. Boston carried up third place in voting and as much as I love the Fleet I think lots of things would have to go right for that to happen (another stunning season by Frankel, more consistent offense, an actual power play, so on and so forth).
Additionally, as much as I hate to say it, I think we’re seriously underselling Minnesota, just because they made some inadvisable choices during the off season doesn’t mean they still aren’t largely the team who won the Walter cup and has theoretically gotten better during the offseason. Then again, I’d be as happy as anyone to see them crash and burn a little bit so it’s all speculatory. New York got a grand total of two votes but I’m secretly rooting for them to surprise some people. Ottawa got none, but we can cover that in the next section.
Last in the standings: Ottawa Charge (52.9%)
Guys. Guys, really? Ottawa fans, I am begging you, come represent your team because this is embarrassing. Like I don’t know much about what Ottawa’s been up to other than rebuilding the Czech National Team (shout out to Carla Macleod I am manifesting you knowing what you are doing). Like they weren’t bad last year, they were second in goals for, and they did lose a bit but they had tons of overtime losses which means they were in the games. Hell, they were very nearly in the playoffs, they were in the same category as Minnesota and Boston, the two finalist teams! Apparently my unpopular opinion is that Ottawa isn’t going to suck (They hopefully have two solid goalies now so Masch won’t be overworked, they signed some good players, I feel like I’m going crazy.) Otherwise, there’s not much notable in this section other than some doubt about the Sirens and the Frost (lord let it be the Frost /j) but shoutout to the one person truly going against the grain and saying that Montreal is gonna get dead last, I applaud your bravery.
The Four Playoff Teams:
This question was a little less straightforward so we’re gonna split it into three sections. The (Predicted) Shoe-ins, The Contenders, and Ottawa.
The (Predicted) Shoe-ins -
The Sceptres, the Victoire, and the Fleet all had about 30 votes with nearly 90% of respondents selecting them each as one of the potential playoff teams. This fits pretty well with the previous votes of the Walter Cup winners and runner ups, so I wasn’t too surprised at any of these. All of these teams should have a decent shot at the playoffs and my own mostly unfounded misgivings about the Sceptres aside, this is all pretty reasonable and I largely think there’s a good chance that this is how it goes..
The Contenders -
The Frost and the Sirens were pretty evenly matched, about half of y’all voted that they’d be one of four playoff teams and I generally agree that they both have a pretty good shot at the playoffs so there isn’t much to talk about here. I’d personally be more excited for the Sirens to make a run at the playoffs, I think they have a chance to be good after last season and hopefully put some things together over the summer, but we shall see.
Ottawa -
You know I already wrote a whole ramble about this and since then Ottawa beat Boston 6-1 in the preseason and I think they heard how little faith you guys had in them and decided to take it out on my team. That’s all I’m gonna say on that.
The Trade Predictions:
These answers were definitely a bit less clear cut due to the nature of the question, after all it’s a lot easier to say who you think will be good than try and get into the head of GMs and coaches, but a few trends emerged nonetheless. The Frost, the Sirens, and the Charge all got 19 or 20 apiece and I think it makes a bit of sense. After all the Sirens and the Charge seemingly stand the most to gain through trade having missed the playoffs, and from later responses those who voted Minnesota were manifesting a Britta Curl trade which I’ll refrain from judging at the moment. I will say I’m a bit surprised that less people voted for Boston, after all unless my memory is entirely wrong they had the most trades over the course of last season and seem to hold very few qualms about it.
0.500+ Winning Percentage: Montreal Victoire (84.8%)
Guys, I respect this take, I’m 90% sure this was one of my votes for an above .500 team as well, but may I speak a little bit of heresy against the Victoire? Like they’re gonna be good, I don’t have doubt in that, but I don’t know if they’re gonna be that decisively good. They’re a bit injured which could lead to a rocky start and do we all still remember how much they relied on those top few players especially in the playoffs? I’m pretty sure in the Boston series their fourth line may have gotten less than ten minutes overall which I’m not an expert on hockey but isn’t a whole thing about balancing ice time and having solid lines all the way through so your stars aren’t having absurdly long nights (shout out to Erin Ambrose you deserve a gun)?
Otherwise this follows the general trends of the playoffs with a bit more faith in the Frost than in the Sirens, a reasonable amount for the Fleet and Sceptres, and absolutely none in Ottawa which I think we’ll all come to regret but I’ve said my piece about that already so I won’t beat a dead horse into the ground.
Higher Goals For than Goals Against: Toronto Sceptres (68.8%)
This risks getting into actual smart people hockey stuff that I am by no means an expert in, so I won’t spend too long other than to just share the results. Toronto and Montreal are the only two teams with a confidence rate of over 50%, followed by Boston, Minnesota, New York, and Ottawa. I think it’s interesting to think about potential offensive numbers but really can’t speak much to how accurate these have the chance of being because my main reaction is “huh yeah that’s a statistic people can make predictions on”
Player Predictions -
This definitely was a lot less definitive on almost all fronts, and I joked while advertising this that you could just type in MPP for all the answers and get half of them right, which seems to be the approach that some of you took. It’s fair, but expect a lot of repetition looking at these charts due to that because she is just that pervasive. I’ll try to mention as many players you guys picked as possible but you might have to look at the charts because I am neither an expert in all players nor a good enough writer to say anything other than “Yeah that’s certainly a player”
Above 1.00 points per game played: Marie Philip-Poulin (13 votes)
And here is the start to our MPP sweep, starting strong off the bat, about half of the 26 answers to this question included her which makes sense. She was second only to Natalie Spooner last season, with 1.1 pt/g and unless something weird happens I see no reason to suspect otherwise from her. I honestly didn’t expect as many other players to be suggested, after all it was only Natalie Spooner and Marie Philip-Poulin which makes sense, it’s an impressive statistic, but everyone seemed to have their favorites. Sarah Nurse was one player who hasn’t really been on my radar but you guys seem to like her, for this question and a bunch of other ones. I personally am partial to a Hilary Knight comeback season from this list but would be interested to see anyone make that jump.
In the Top Ten Points Getters: Marie Philip-Poulin (15 votes)
Everyone raise their hands if they’re surprised MPP won this in a landslide, oh wait literally no one is surprised I could have told you this when it was literally only my vote on the board. You’ll learn very quickly that oftentime the runaway winner of these simple questions aren’t really the interesting ones, it’s everyone else that got nominated that you can really dig into. Everyone who got top 10 last year, 18-27 points was up here in this list except Brianne Jenner and Katerina Mrazova which I’m chalking up to you guy’s Ottawa hate. Shoutout to Tobi and the one other person who voted for Gabbie Hughes and also Ronja Savolainen, you are the real ones rooting for the Charge.
Also I don’t know if it’s because with Natalie Spooner just kind of ruled the world coming out of Toronto I was completely blindsided by Sarah Nurse on most of these questions sorry Nursey I forgot you existed a little bit hopefully the Toronto girlies don’t tear me apart for that one.
PIMPG Over 1.00 Minutes: Abby Roque (16 votes)
The certainty of the questions ticks up by one for the next few and as much as everyone believed in MPP being awesome overall, one more person believed in Abby Roque being a criminal on skates and/or overly penalized, I didn’t leave room for that distinction. Tereza Vanišová earned the dubious distinction of second place but only with 6 votes and Emma Maltais earned third with a measly 3. Not a ton of Rookie representation here but I’ll be interested to see if any of this draft class take up this mantle. Also shoutout to the two people who voted Kaleigh Fratkin despite her not playing that’s so real and valid of you.
Save Percentage Over 0.920: Aerin Frankel (17 votes)
With the most votes of any player for a single category, Aerin Frankel, The Green Monster, love of my life and the blockade of the Boston Fleet, absolutely swept this category. I might have been thinking this in my head, but it’s good to see my Frankel love reaffirmed for the upcoming season because she deserves it all. And maybe a gun if Boston decides to have a few repeat performances from last year (cough two fifty+ save games in a row cough). The goalie questions have an inherently smaller pool so there were fewer surprises because as a certified goalie lover I try to keep tabs on the situation in net across the league. I’m shocked ARD didn’t get as much of a nod here from Montreal fans but suppose the appeal of Montreal is dissimilar to Boston in that regard as you theoretically have a consistent offense.
20+ Games Started as a Goalie: Aerin Frankel (16 votes)
Honestly I’m surprised Maschmeyer didn’t run away with this question because if it’s who I’d like to see start 20 games and do wonderfully it’d definitely be Frankel but I think with the possible addition of Klara Peslarova Boston shouldn’t be overly reliant on her with Soderburg and potentially Peslarova to back her up. I suppose it might be overwhelming faith in Gwyneth Phillips to be a solid number 2 in Ottawa but she wasn’t that represented in other goalie questions so maybe it was just an oversight considering Masch had the most starts of any goalie in the league last year. More interestingly, I respect the one person who refrained from answering and basically said that there’s so much depth in the league that no goalie will get 20 out of 30 starts. I’m not sure if it’s accurate, but the depth is real so it’s possible.
Billie Jean King (MVP) Nominee: Marie-Philip Poulin (10 votes)
And now we’re officially back in MPP territory and I’m not gonna spend too much time breaking this down because yeah. If Poulin has a repeat performance from last season and Spooner’s out for a significant portion of the season on LTIR, it’s her award to lose. But let’s look at some of the people you think she has the chance to lose it to. Once again you guys are on the Sarah Nurse train and you know what I support. Seeing the team ratios, lots of Toronto, a smattering of everyone else, no Ottawa, is definitely interesting but I’m not nearly smart enough to make conclusions as to what that means so I’ll leave it up to you to decide. (Something something teams with depth might have less obvious candidates if they’re all kicking in?)
Forward of the Year Nominee: Marie-Philip Poulin (10 votes)
Wow. MPP for forward of the year, who possibly could have predicted this. Definitely not me. And yes, you all are probably right but that’s not interesting! That’s not fun and cool and interesting so let’s move on. More Sarah Nurse love in this house and I think I can confidently say there aren’t very many of you confident in a repeat performance from Spooner/think her injured status will prevent her from potentially making this list. It’s a bit more prominent but there’s definitely a big Daryl Watts faction of supporters and honestly I endorse this. I might not be a huge Toronto girlie but I always have a soft spot for players who move teams and she just seems like a very easy person to root for. I just hope she doesn’t do too well against Boston this Saturday <3
Defender of the Year Nominee: Ella Shelton and Erin Ambrose (7 votes)
See isn’t this fun, isn’t this interesting, a tie for first place and none of them are named Marie-Philip Poulin! (ignore the fact she isn’t eligible) Honestly, I think Ella Shelton and Erin Ambrose are the obvious but objectively correct candidates. They were both nominated and both deserving but I think Shelton was a little robbed, after all she was second in points for her team as a defender and fifth yes that’s right, fifth place for points overall. But alas Erin Ambrose is a titaness and also deserved the award so that’s not the point. The point is I think I’m slightly biased towards Shelton between our two winners. As our runners up, we’re really feeling that Sophie Jaques love and I might be anti-Minnesota but I can’t bring myself to be ant-Sophie Jaques. Of course I endorse Keller (Go Fleet!) and can’t say I know enough about the rest of these players defensively to speak definitively on their chances.
Goalie of the Year Nominee: Aerin Frankel (13 votes)
Peace and love on planet earth there’s not much to say that I didn’t already say in the save percentage or games started section so I won’t dawdle too much here other than to say that there was a little less variation of who you thought would be nominated versus who you thought would have a good season (starting 20+ times, high save percentage). You guys tend to stick with proven goalies, which makes sense and I can’t see any place I’d disagree other than to say I think that if Corinne Schroeder keeps up her save percentage (higher than Soupy last year) and New York lets her see less of a volume of shots (she saw about 31 per game as compared to Campbell’s 24) by actually playing defense, she could separate a bit from the other goalies in the league. I’m always rooting for Aerin Frankel and think she got robbed last year, so if she stays the Green Monster she was last season I think she has a really good chance.
Rookie of the Year Nominee: Sarah Fillier (12 votes)
This really reaffirmed for me that most of us have absolutely no clue anything about the depth of this rookie class. Of the nine players named, ⅔ of them were the first round of the draft, one of them isn’t even a rookie (Sorry Daryl Watts you won’t be getting this piece of hardware), and Curl and Daniel were second and third round picks respectively. Meanwhile over 20 rookie skaters got points in the preseason games alone and only Serdachny and Fillier from this list got more than 1 point. The rest of those seven players were all but forgotten. And I get it, preseason is preseason, but my prediction is we’ll have a few unexpected standouts who really break out in the league when no one really saw them coming. I don’t think Sarah Fillier will be snubbed with nominations, her preseason hatty proved that she’s coming out on all cylinders, but I wouldn’t be surprised if the other two are people not listed here. We shall see.
Significantly Better Year (Pt/G increased by at least 0.4): Hilary Knight (7 votes)
Listen, I might be biased as she is the Captain of the Fleet (which sounds so cool and I do need art of her in a pirate uniform immediately if not sooner) but I personally am rooting for a Hilary Knight revenge tour. I think we saw it at the rivalry series and in the single preseason game she graced the ice with her presence, but I think she’s the type of player who underperformed last season and is now prepared to rip the league a new one. This was definitely one of the more varied questions with most candidates getting 1 or 2 votes so I’ll let you make your own opinions though I will say a lot of you are on the Daryl Watts train and think she’ll find her footing in Toronto. My one note is I’m not sure if some of you got the question because there are some candidates here (Sarah Nurse most notably) who had great and/or good seasons (above 0.5 points per game) and going up by 0.4 or more would mean they’d become transcendent players on the same level as the Spooners and Poulins of last season. I’m not saying you’re wrong, I’m just saying there’s only so high players can go reasonably.
Involved in a Trade: Britta Curl (2 votes)
If the last question was a wide field of answers, this was a complete crapshoot. Aside from what I assume are two Minnesota fans hoping to dump Britta Curl on some other team, everyone else seems to be selected at random, so I won’t bother with any conjecture, you can observe and draw conclusions for yourself.
#pwhl#pwhl lb#pwhl boston#boston fleet#pwhl minnesota#pwhl montreal#pwhl new york#pwhl toronto#pwhl ottawa#montreal victoire#minnesota frost#ottawa charge#new york sirens#toronto sceptres#hockey#woho#professional women’s hockey league#statistics! and data!
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I come to you, oh High Priest of Horny Sunday, with a puzzle I’m stuck on. I say this with love and affection for all and a desire to keep everyone feeling welcome and horny on our most holy day. It’s awesome that so many people have loving wives to brag about in detail…. But for those of us who don’t, it’s kind of a bummer? And becomes a little “Ah this is for people who currently have partners, not me. I am embarrassed and sad I can’t participate equally and disappointed in myself that their fun makes me feel bad.”
Putting our heads together, is there some tag or something to sort this so everyone can continue to have fun, including feeling welcome and joyous in their wife-bragging? There’s not an easy answer here and the last thing I want to do is quash anyone’s Holy Horny! But maybe I’ll be taking a step back otherwise.
Hi anon,
Firstly, thank you for coming to me about this. I love this little community and the last thing I would ever want to do is cause someone to leave it with my silliness - so I am very motivated to reach a solution here, even if that solution ends up being me shutting up a bit.
Secondly, it seems like this is the kind of issue which is going to require a little back and forth to reach a solution, so if you are comfortable doing so please do slide into my DMs and we can chat about which content in particular gives you The Sads ™️ and which you still want to see. I assume blocking the entire #📯💒 tag is not what you want here? (If you want to talk to someone objectively nicer than me hit up @modestflamboyance or @jamie-clayton and talk it out with them. I will enact whatever you guys agree to 🫡)
Perhaps it's simply a matter of consolidating our #wifeposting #wifeguy #mrs27 tags into something we all use to denote such content? Or do we need to separate generic wife stuff from horny wife stuff?
With regards to the questions and polls and such, believe it or not we do put a fair amount of thought and discussion into making them as inclusive as possible - albeit the "we" I'm talking about is 3 people married to women so perhaps we could use your input with that?
Anyone please feel free to hop into the notes of this post if you've got any ideas or if you've got your own concerns we could work out together as well...
With love and appreciation to the wholes Rizzles fam, who have made me so so happy since I found you.
- your devoted court jester 🃏, 27.
❤️🧡💛💚💙💜
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AITA for not helping a teenager?
My deepest apologies. This is going to be rather lengthy.
For context, the teenager in question, R (15M), and I (don't remember, M) both arrived on this particular island with amnesia, albeit at different times and at different places. I had arrived first, and was accepted with open arms by the first village I happened upon, even ascending to an important position as the caretaker of one of the village's sacred animals. I am glad, and rather fortunate, to call these people my kinsmen.
R, on the other hand, ended up arriving at this other village, where the leader, K (40s M), was quite hostile to him. Despite his young age, he had to pass a trial before even being given shelter, to make sure he could pull his weight. Also, he was tasked with fighting multiple rampaging sacred animals by himself, which is how we met. While the animal I was in charge of was not one of those on the rampage, I work in the area close to where one of them was, and my own ward had the ability to help R reach the rampaging sacred animal, so I was tasked with bringing him to the fight, during which he prevailed, as usual. R and I had a conversation of sorts on the way, which helped me gain some clarity on my life and what I wanted to do after these rampages had been quelled, and for that I am grateful to him.
Right after R finished solving all these rampages, however, the sky turned red; it seemed to be the onset of the apocalypse, and the heart of it seemed to be the area I was in charge of. I spent most of my time during the apocalypse hurrying back and forth between my village and the area, making sure everyone was safe. I didn't see R until a while later after the apocalypse, during which he was furious with me.
Apparently, during the apocalypse, K exiled R from the village on suspicion of being the one to cause it, and many people in the village also agreed with that sentiment. It was only through the kindness of a few others, including my village leader, I (17F), and a young colleague of mine, L (12M), that he was able to survive, and then fix the apocalypse through intense fighting. Even despite his success, the whole experience was, understandably, an ordeal, knowing that many people blamed and hated him for something he didn't even do.
For that, R directed his anger at me for not supporting him during his time of need. Back then, after the situation in my area was settled, I decided to head down to the village R was staying at for a change of scenery, and R had kept coming to find me. Showing off all his new discoveries, or simply talking about his day - I've been told he does not do this with anyone else, implying he seemed to view me as someone he was close to.
I'm personally unsure how to feel about this; I know there are people I am missing, but R isn't a replacement for them, and it would be unfair to see him as one. It's rather difficult for me to form close bonds with anyone here in general as well, knowing that this isn't where I'm supposed to be. For that time, I treated R like I would any other person - politely and respectfully. According to him, though, he "thought we were best friends" and "trusted [me] more than anyone else" because "[I'm] the only one who can truly understand what [he's] been through", and so he felt especially betrayed that I wasn't there to help him.
I don't even know how I didn't run into him at all during his exile, but that's probably the will of the gods. If I had, I would've tried to help, given he's literally 15 years old; but it would admittedly be difficult as it is likely that K was also keeping tabs on me as a suspicious person, and could've punished me as well if I was seen 'conspiring' with R, and I wouldn't be able to fulfill my duty to my people in that case.
TL:DR, a teenager I met apparently considered me a close friend (but it wasn't reciprocal) and was furious at me for not being there for him when he was in a dire situation. I had other commitments at that time, but even then, I feel guilty for not helping him. AITA?
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🤡 PSA: PLEASE READ 🤡
Before I go do some cleaning, I wanted to get this off my chest. No, this isn’t another impulsive vent post, in fact, it will be my last post regarding last night’s events.
I have felt incredibly guilty ever since I vented about a particular ship. It was never my intent, as I’ve said before, to shut down others’ work simply because I don’t like it. Yes, I do not like Jack x Jeff, but I don’t hate or have anything against people who do, and I feel some may have taken my feelings on the subject a bit personal. People here are just trying to have fun, right?
My relationship with Laughing Jack, who yes, I am aware is a fictional character, is complicated. I don’t necessarily view myself as a casual Jack selfshipper, but the ones who are casual shippers are some of the coolest people I have ever met, and I have never once thought of my love for Jack as superior to theirs.
I responded by trauma dumping to a user I have never talked with before who questioned the state of my health when it came to Jack, which after a moot pointed out, realized that wasn’t the appropriate response to someone who might have just been showing genuine concern, even if it came off a bit rude initially. I don’t do well without tone indicators sometimes, so please forgive me. My hostility comes from a near decade of unhealthily bottling my mental health issues, because my mom never got me the care I needed, only threats to a psych ward.
I want to change; I realize my trauma dumping isn’t doing me or anyone else any favors, but when you have no money, no ability to drive, no other outlets, in a world that often shuns people like you, my options are very limited. I’ve had no luck finding a therapist for every issue I may have; this has been my coping mechanism since I was 15. I’m autistic, and still don’t feel like I ever aged mentally past 15 because of it. I was never given the tools I needed to be an adult, so I regress often. It’s the only thing I can think to do when shit goes south.
But enough with the pity story, I really just wanted to say that I’m sorry. Yeah, may not mean much, but, I really am sorry for everything, whether it’s being jealous over something I can’t control, or just being an awful friend.
I really am trying to get better, it’s just taking longer than I’ve planned for it to, because of things constantly getting pushed back.
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Regarding Alastor being redeemed, I have been seeing some posts regarding how it can happen that trigger an instant ick reaction from me. I have taken time to think about why I keep having such a strongly negative reaction to it. The first thing I took into consideration is that I really do not want my current favourite bad boy to become good. I am first and foremost a villain fan and his becoming good has a high chance of ruining the character for me. This means that there is a chance that I would dislike any theory that ends with Alastor redeemed. A lot of time you see people making arguments for why a ship or character should not be liked when the real reason is they personally don't like it and the reasons are merely support. I try to make sure I am aware of my personal bias.
Regardless of my personal bias, I have decided that there is one particular theory regarding how Alastor can be redeemed that I hate from the bottom of my heart. It is the theory where Alastor after being humiliated, degraded and losing everything including his pride has no choice but to accept Charlie's care and change for the better. Sometimes it involves betraying the hotel first, but generally involves him being unable to deal with the challenges that he faces. I am sure how this works in the minds of those who like this theory makes perfect sense. He can no longer rely on himself, he sees that he isn't capable of anything and now has no choice but to become what Charle wants him to be. I hate it so much. I have kept turning it over in my mind and I think I have figured out all the reasons why separate from my bias.
First, suffering doesn't make people better. It just doesn't. The theory seems to require enough suffering to rewrite Alastor's personality and make him Charlie's puppet. It also reminds me of William Shakespeare's The Taming of the Shrew. The story of how the proud woman was broken down to make her obedient. She might be "better" but it also felt to me like she died and became a puppet. He would be "redeemed" but that wouldn't be Alastor. It would just be something that looks like him. I just feel like fans of Alastor who like this theory don't realise that he would lose everything that pulled them to him in the first place if this happened. Some could not deal with him being less energetic in the main show than the pilot due to him being bored. How would they deal with what would essentially be a hollow creature wearing his face trying to become good because there is nothing left in him?
Second, with a proud character you can't brute force them into letting people in. Part of the idea of the theory is that after he is humiliated and suffers in front of them, he will drop his smile and be forced to let others in. That doesn't make sense to me. We have already seen in S1E8, how Alastor deals with things not going his way. He holds onto what little control he has by refusing to drop his smile and holding onto his pride while going through a breakdown. The best way to get someone like Alastor as far as I am concerned is to deal with him the same way you would deal with a wild animal. Slowly lower their guard. I think Charlie is already doing that whether Alastor knows it or not. Besides, pride is an important part of the character. Pride is part of what drew me to the character in the first place. The kind of pride that makes a person think it is okay to say, "If I wanted to hurt anyone here I would have done so already" in front of the Princess of Hell, is part of what drew me to Alastor. If he lost it, the character would likely immediately lose all appeal to me. So, there is some personal bias there.
It would make sense to me if the theory was more about Alastor learning that he can rely on others and doesn't have to depend solely on himself which leads to him opening up and letting others in. However, the theory leans very heavily into suffering as a way to make him a better person and a complete erasure of everything that makes up the character through suffering to make him into someone who wants and is worthy of redemption. That's fine for fanfiction but I hope it never becomes canon.
#hazbin hotel#alastor#long rant#disclaimer: i have stopped enjoying a character in the past because they turned good#i have a vested interest in alastor remaining the token evil teammate
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Rivals With Benefits | Jey x Black!fem OC (18+)
Description: Jey and Jax both are forced to confront their feelings for one another.
Chapter: 4/5
Face Claim: Ariana Debose.
Warnings: Super mild angst, fluff, that should be it?
This is set in an AU in which the og bloodline reunited before wrestlemania 40 and Roman retained. This is the Jey x Jax sequel to Swipe Right. As always my stories are NOT about real people and does not reflect their character. While there is not smut in Chapter 1, there will be in others. This is very much an 18+ BDSM based romance with some comedy thrown in there. This particular story features Jey as a Daddy Dom (Not Mysterio, you fucking nerds 😂) google if necessary and if this isn't for you, please scroll. You have been warned.
Word count: 1,089
My masterlist can be found here.
🏷 Taglist - @xbriexx @acute-crashout-jeyuso @romansvrse @justazzi @vampygomez @mselenalovebug @lov3rla03 @jstarr86 @mindairy @biscochito23 @yana3sworld
It was a calm Saturday morning, a couple of months later and Jax was in the midst of a shopping spree with Her older sister Iris, younger sister Lele and her nieces Imani and Amira.
They had spent the morning trying on dresses, laughing and chatting about everything under the sun.
As Iris tried on her 500th wedding gown of the day, Lele's eyes sparkled with amusement.
"So, Jax..." she said, leaning against the dressing room door, "you've been spending a lot of time with Jey lately."
"We're the maid of honor and best man. Duh." Jax tried to brush it off.
Lele smirked, clearly not buying Jax's excuse.
"Come on, sis," she teased, nudging her with her elbow.
"We all know it's more than that. I saw the way you two were looking at each other during the engagement party."
Jax rolled her eyes, trying to act nonchalant, but she could feel her cheeks warming up.
She knew her sister was onto something, and it was making her a bit uncomfortable.
"We're just friends," she insisted, trying to maintain her cool facade.
"Thats still big. You hated his ass before." Iris commented.
Jax laughed, remembering the way she used to roll her eyes at Jey's cocky demeanor and goofy ass behavior.
"Yeah, I know," she admitted, a hint of nostalgia in her voice.
"But he's not so bad now that we're friends," she added, trying to play it off as if they were just good acquaintances.
"Aunty Jax, you know you aren't fooling anyone but yourself right? This is a classic wattpad enemies to lovers trope." Imani chimed in.
Jax raised an eyebrow at Imani's comment, caught off guard by her bold observation.
She was about to protest, but Amira spoke up as well.
"She's right," the younger girl said, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
"Jey would make a fun uncle!" she added, giggling at the thought of endless waffles and ice cream with one of her favorite people on the planet.
"Okay, okay, enough already," Jax said, waving her hands in mock exasperation.
She knew they were just having fun, but their words were making her heart race with a mix of excitement and uncertainty. She done fucked around and fell in love. But she won't admit it.
The girls continued to tease her mercilessly, giggling and making jokes about the obvious chemistry between her and Jey.
Iris and Lele just watched with amused expressions, clearly enjoying their sister's irritation.
Finally, Jax had enough of their playful teasing and tried to change the subject.
"Can we just focus on the dresses, please?" she said, trying to steer the conversation back to the task at hand.
The girls laughed at her feeble attempt to regain control of the conversation, but they obliged and moved on to discussing the dresses.
As they browsed through the racks, Iris and Lele shared knowing glances, silently agreeing that there was something more going on between Jax and Jey.
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶
Meanwhile, Jey was spending the day with Jimmy and Naomi.
They had invited him over for lunch, and the conversation quickly turned to his relationship with Jax. Thanks to his sister in law's nosey ass.
Jimmy leaned back in his chair, studying Jey's face.
"So, how are things going with Jax?" he asked, a hint of curiosity in his voice.
"Watchu mean, Uce?" Jey questioned
Jimmy smirked, noticing the way Jey avoided his gaze.
"Man, Come on," he said, leaning forward with a teasing tone. "You know exactly what I mean. You and Jax have been spending a lot of time together lately."
Naomi, sensing an opportunity to join in on the teasing, chimed in. "Yeah, you two are like magnets," she said with a sly grin.
"Always drawn to each other, always finding excuses to be near each other."
"It's not excuses. Roman made me his best man..." Jey argued.
Jimmy and Naomi exchanged a knowing glance.
"And we're just supposed to believe that's the only reason?" Jimmy said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
Jey rolled his eyes, knowing he was fighting a losing battle.
"You two are like a pair of old ladies, gossiping about me," he said, trying to deflect the attention away from himself.
Naomi chuckled, enjoying the way Jey was squirming under their scrutiny.
"We're just looking out for you, Jey," she said with a wink. "You know, making sure you're not falling for the wrong person."
Jey felt a pang in his chest at Naomi's words.
Falling for the wrong person... that's exactly what he was afraid of.
He had been fighting his feelings for Jax, trying to convince himself that it was just a casual friendship. Rivals with benefits is what they'd said. But every time he saw her smile, or heard her laugh, his heart skipped a beat.
Jimmy noticed the subtle change in Jey's expression and decided to press on.
"Hey, you alright, Uce?" he asked, a hint of concern in his voice.
Jey shook his head, trying to snap out of it. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," he said, forcing a smile.
But Jimmy wasn't convinced. He knew his twin too well.
Jimmy reached across the table and placed a hand on Jey's shoulder.
"You know you can talk to me, right?" he said, his voice softening.
Jey nodded, feeling a lump forming in his throat.
He knew he couldn't hide his feelings from Jimmy forever, but admitting them out loud was terrifying.
Naomi watched the exchange with interest, sensing that there was something deeper going on between the twins.
Jimmy continued to study Jey's face, searching for any hint of what he was thinking.
He had always been able to read his twin like an open book, but this time, he was having trouble getting a read on him.
Jey looked away, avoiding his older brother's gaze.
Naomi, sensing the tension, decided to speak up.
"You know, it's okay to have feelings for someone," she said gently, breaking the silence.
Jey's heart raced at her words, his stomach churning with a mix of anxiety and excitement.
He knew she was right, but it was still a difficult truth to face.
Jimmy looked at him, his eyes filled with understanding.
"She's right, Uce," he said softly.
Jey closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Well shit.
He knew he couldn't keep running from his feelings forever. He needed to confront them head-on, no matter how terrifying it was.
With a heavy sigh, he finally spoke.
"I think... I think I'm falling for her."
Previous Chapter ●◉◎◈◎◉● Next Chapter
#jey uso#main event jey uso#wwe jey uso#jey uso smut#jey uso fanfiction#jey uso x black oc#jey uso x oc#Spotify
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This is a little rambly, but: Do you have any tips for people who are trying to re-learn media literacy skills? It’s kind of disheartening to see the number of people I’ve seen in the arcane fandom on high horses doing the point and laugh at someone else for missing the deeper meaning/metaphors/symbolism. It’s alienating to be humiliated like that you know? (Maybe I’m just still fresh jn my post-election grief but it just reminds me of how, when someone becomes open to new viewpoints and new perspectives, we should meet them halfway and encourage these new questions and developing skills, instead of antagonizing them back in the other direction. Does that make sense?)
Hi nonny!!!!
First of all, I wanna say that these are some great questions and I'm truly flattered to have been asked! I can't say I'm a total expert here, so if anyone reading has other tips, please leave them in the reblogs or comments.
Second, you're also so right that nobody should be pointing or laughing at someone who doesn't "get it," if the person who didn't "get it" is giving their genuine analysis and is open for discussion and other viewpoints. It's when folks on either side of whatever the divide is slinging start insults that conversations become unproductive--which in and of itself is not conducive to media literacy. I am so sorry you've felt alienated by any of the back and forth happening; that doesn't feel good for anyone.
There are four pieces of advice I'll give. (and this is NOT assuming you're not doing these already, nonny!)
First, consume a lot of media. Read/watch/play with abandon. Consume things that are easy, consume things that challenge you. Reflect on them. Nothing fancy needed there. Ask questions--what is this trying to show me, and did it work? How could it have been seen differently, and why do I disagree with that view? Having a bigger reservoir of experience helps you evaulate everything you consume thereafter!
Second is pretty simple--pay attention. If you're planning on actively engaging with a piece of media, of course you've gotta actually immerse yourself in it! I'm guilty of being a phone-scroller while watching some things, but it's a detriment to getting the full picture of what you're watching or playing or reading. To be able to ask the questions, you have to do the work.
The third tip I'll give is to familiarize yourself with craft, whether that's writing, cinematography, etc. It helps you recognize the hows and whys of technicality, and allows you to evaluate what was attempted and what succeeded, or did not succeed. This also helps you take genre expectations into account as you assess the story's/creator's intention versus execution.
Finally--and this ties in with your concerns--allow yourself to think about other viewpoints, even if your own evalutations don't change.
One thing I'll say about Arcane in particular is that the long (and necessary!!!) development cycle led to folks having a close-held ideal of what the next season would look like--and when reality falls short of what they built up, that hurts. Such an impactful show means a LOT to people and it's unsurprising that it's bringing out a lot of strong convictions.
#please don't tear me apart i tried my best!!!#please offer more or offer counterpoints i'm listening too!
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