#and I had the notion of seeing one of the most incredible things you can experience

[whoreviewswho]

Your Evil is My Good - Pyramids of Mars, 1975

There are some things, though not many, that the Doctor Who fandom seems to universally agree on. Everybody seems to agree that the Weeping Angels are a great, iconic monster. Everybody seems onboard with the notion that The Caves of Androzani is one of the best stories of all time. Everybody seems to agree that the Hinchcliffe era is one of the most consistently good runs in the whole show. You can probably see where I am going with this. Pyramids of Mars has been forever lauded as one of the all-time great Doctor Who stories, a shining example of a show that appealed to all ages at the peak of its powers. 

Like all consensus opinions, there is obviously a clear logic to this. Pyramids of Mars is incredibly memorable and influential. It was, after all, the third serial to be released on the VHS line and it topped the DWM poll for most anticipated DVD release in 2003. Even if it were not so formative and prominent in fan's minds (the amount of times it has selected for re-release and repeat is remarkable) it would still be one of the most influential and groundbreaking stories of its time. It is hard to challenge the claim that Pyramids of Mars is the single most important story of the Hinchcliffe era. Not the best (there are at least four prior to this that could more readily stake that claim) but, in an aesthetic sense, the pilot episode for the Hinchcliffe era or, at least, the one where everything finally falls into place. Prior to Pyramids of Mars, Doctor Who had functioned primarily based on the approach pioneered by Verity Lambert and David Whittaker back in the early 1960s. Their vision of Doctor Who was as a programme defined by juxtaposing aesthetics and the storytelling had developed to facilitate that by colliding genres and styles of storytelling. What debuts in Pyramids of Mars is, in hindsight, the inevitable next step which is positioning the established aesthetics and logic of Doctor Who alongside specific pulp genre stories. The difference is the distinction between the Doctor walking amongst a space opera or a western and disrupting their logics and aesthetics and the Doctor walking around within 1971’s Blood of the Mummy’s Tomb and being beholden to its logic and aesthetic. 

In the 1990s, Steven Moffat infamously derided the Hinchcliffe era for comprising too largely of derivative pastiches and, while I ultimately agree with him, he is made to look a bit of a fool because of how much the approach does actually work. I like Pyramids of Mars. Of course I do. I'm a Doctor Who fan. This story is a blast to watch and it is the first in a really strong run of pulpy, gothic horror-pastiches that define the Hinchcliffe era in everybody's minds (I stress this is not the beginning of a run in terms of quality, just the start of an aesthetic period that also happens to be very good). This is a messy story but it is a very promising first showing. Pyramids of Mars proves that this model of Doctor Who can work and it lays the groundwork for better stories later down the track. after it to take this aesthetic and run into incredibly interesting places. So, as you have obviously concluded by now, this is not even close to my favourite of the Hinchcliffe era, let alone of all time. 

Yes, the production of Pyramids of Mars is spectacular. Probably the single strongest aspect of the Hinchcliffe era is just how good the show was at working within its limitations. None of the stories under his watch look especially naff and Pyramids of Mars is especially luscious. The serial is dripping in tone and atmosphere and I could not begrudge anybody frequenting it for just the mood it puts you in. The sets for the house are great and effortlessly evoke that classic, hammer horror tone of an old, creepy house with creepy old dudes doing creepy *cult* (we can replace that word with *casually stereotypically racist*) stuff. The visual effects are also excellent with particular kudos to that chilling bit where Marcus gets shot. I could watch that one sequence forever. 

This is not a script with a wealth of great material for the actors but there is no question that they are all exceptional. Paddy Russell even claimed as much herself, insisting upon finding strong actors to bolster material that she thought was lacking. Michael Sheard brings a lot to Laurence Scarman, the best part in the whole story from an acting perspective, but it is hard to look past Garbriel Woolf as Sutekh for the best guest performance in the serial. What a captivating voice and commanding presence. Tom Baker's performance is often praised for the seriousness and dread he brings to proceedings. He even has some particularly dark and alien moments such as his total detachment from the various deaths around him. In my opinion, however, I find his performance to be distant and disinterested, likely thanks to his frosty relationship with Russell. Luckily, it does serve this material well and offer an alienness to the role but he seems incredibly bored and pissed off every time he is onscreen. As with this whole season though, Elisabeth Sladen is at the height of her powers and effortlessly wrings buckets of charm out of scripts that, again, serve her terribly. Following season eleven, it feels like nobody working on the show has any interest or even a take on the Sarah Jane that we were introduced to. Everybody who has ever seen this serial praises the scene where the Doctor leaves the events of the story for 1980 at Sarah's request and rightly so because it is a phenomenal sequence and possibly the most effective way to demonstrate how awesomely powerful the villain is in the whole show’s history. It's so good, of course, that Russell T. Davies had the good sense to nick it wholesale for The Devil's Chord. Everything aesthetically about Pyramids of Mars works. This is a great story to just watch and let wash over you. 

However, I think that this script is deeply flawed and definitely needed another pass before it could attain true GOAT status in my books. Perhaps that will seem unfair to those who will cry out in defence with the reminder that  this story was another late rewrite from Robert Holmes when the original scripts, from one time writer Lewis Griefer, were deemed unworkable. It is somewhat miraculous that this story even got made at all. It’s difficult to say now how much of the finished serial can truly be credited to whom. Greifer, was approached by Holmes, a former colleague, while headhunting new talent. Knowing he had a keen interest in Egyptian mythology, Holmes allegedly pitched the combination of science-fiction and a mummy horror film to him. Greifer’s scripts would have been radically different including the proposed final appearance of UNIT and the Brigadier, a scheme to solve world hunger with plantations on the moon year culminated in the Doctor uniting with Horus and Iris to take on the crocodile looking Seth and stop his plan to replace the grain and destroy the moon. It is from here that the development of the serial becomes very collaborative. Holmes met with Greifer and suggested a number of scaled-back alterations that were more in-line with what Doctor Who was suited to in 1976 as well as taking on suggestions from outgoing producer Barry Letts. 

Greifer revised his scripts further to what would be the basic plot of the television version, moving the detecting to Earth with an imprisoned Seth and his rocket-based plans, with the added addition of a fortune hunter seeking the world-saving rice in an ancient Egyptian tomb. Holmes remained unhappy with the scripts and, to make matters worse, Greifer fell ill after delivering a full script for the first episode only. Following his recovery, Greifer then promptly left the UK to take on a job her previously committed to leaving Holmes to do a page one rewrite with the consultation of director Paddy Russell based on what had already been put in motion. With all of this fraught pre-production in mind, I still think this story is an undercooked mess. The first episode is fantastic and I really love the third but there is so much padding in episodes two and four that really drag the whole thing down for me. The entire second episode is just spent cutting between Sutekh killing people and the Doctor setting up a plan to stop him that fails immediately: The foundations of this serial are really strong and it has some great dialogue, characters and moments but the whole thing fails to hold together for me especially in regards to, pacing toward the end, and the real lack on any interesting subtext to sink your teeth into. 

But let's try and find some anyway. Broadly speaking, mortality seems to be the theme that connects the various elements of the story. We are first introduced to the Doctor in what is probably my single favourite shot of him in the whole seven years he was in the show. We meet him alone, in silence and brooding in the TARDIS control room. Sarah enters in what will be a coincidentally appropriate Edwardian dress, our first indicator that this story is really all about aesthetics and flavour more than anything else, and we discover that the Doctor is in somewhat of a mid-life crisis, grappling with the uncomfortable realisation that his life is marching on and that he has no real purpose. This is a really well written and performed scene, one of the best the Doctor and Sarah ever had, and probably my favourite of the serial. While the original show on the whole is not know for deftness of characterisation and development, Pyramids of Mars proposes a potentially interesting starting place for the Doctor’s character which is simply to put him in a somewhat depressed mood and unhappy with the prospect of spending his remaining days at U.N.I.T.‘s beck and call. This a Doctor who has lost his sense of purpose and ambition. It is a great idea that could reveal a lot about the Doctor and challenge his character, as we later saw under Moffat's creative direction, but it never goes anywhere here. Pyramids of Mars is a serial about a villain who does have a defined purpose and ambition – to bring death to all of reality. Yet the person best poised to stop him is in a crisis himself about the prospect of that very thing arriving for him. The character-driven story of a wandering hero in a mid-life crisis versus the Lord of Death should simply write itself.

But it doesn't. The Doctor does not walk away from the end of this adventure with a renewed sense of self or really any semblance of change in the morose feelings he expresses in episode one. It would have been perfectly forgivable if his mid-life crisis was something that the production team set-up here and went on to develop over the season but that never happens either. The Doctor is more than happy to assist U.N.I.T. in the very next serial and yet once more before the season wraps up. The elements are all here to ie the themes and character beats together but it never really happens. For example, I would love to confidently read something deeper into the final visual of the house burning down. It is, after all, the Doctor who starts the fire and we know from episode one that, later down the track, the manor is going to be rebuilt and repurposed as the U.N.I.T. headquarters. All cutesiness aside, the thematic implications of this are really nice. Sutekh wants to end everything, leaving "nothing but dust and darkness", but we all know that the manor's destruction is an ultimately necessary consequence to allow for something good to rise up from its ashes. With the death of one thing, life can begin anew in its place. This is a simple enough thematic bear could have been teased out and made a lot stronger but it could even have been a clear indicator of some character resolution. With the Doctor inadvertently facilitating the conception of U.N.I.T., this whole image could represent his coming to terms with his place in the universe after combatting Sutekh and passionately redefining himself and coming to terms with a now mythic role as a defender of all life in the universe, a champion of change and renewal. It is something almost there in the script but not quite.

The use of Egyptian iconography in this story is very clever. We know that death was an incredibly important aspect of their culture. People's corpses were mummified to preserve them for the afterlife since death was very much believed not to be the end. There is some cool world-building in this story and I really like the idea that Egyptian culture is all founded upon the wars of the Osirans (Osiris being the Egyptian god of the dead and of fertility). Sutekh is directly mentioned as being the inspiration for Set, realised as well as one could expect in his final beastly form, and the whole premise of the story is hinging upon his previous eternal imprisonment at the hands of brother Horus. I love that the bringer of death is punished by having an eternally unlived life. I think that this context is intended to be paralleled with Marcus and Lawrence. The pair are brothers and, for most of the story, the former literally is Sutekh. There is potentially something very cool in this but, again, the story is in dire need of another draft to really pull it to the fore. Lawrence is ultimately killed by his brother in quite a genuinely tragic moment since he is such a well performed and written character but the actual implications and significance of the scene beyond just the sheer shock value are ultimately lost on me. If Lawrence is a parallel with Horus, what is this supposed to communicate? That Sutekh would have killed his brother given the chance? That there is no humanity to appeal to with this villain? I am not sure of the intention but the scene, like this whole story, is almost fantastic.

And then there is the final episode. Every critic of this story before me has already torn this episode to pieces but I will just take it on briefly and note that the whole story just kind of falls apart at this point. The opening scenes with the Doctor and Sutekh are awesome but as soon as we actually get to the titular location, Holmes starts playing for time really hard. The first three episodes are already padded out to the max with extended woodland chases, an awkwardly large number of scenes where the Doctor and Sarah are simply walking to the poacher's shed and the entire character of the poacher himself in episode two who interacts with none of the main cast (save Marcus) and is just killed anyway. None of this blatant stretching of the script bends to breaking point thanks to how strong the production is at capturing the horror tone and aesthetic but the fourth episode is not so lucky. What we have here, for most of the episode, is an extended sequence of the Doctor and Sarah attempting an Egyptian themed escape room. This could have been compelling and some of the puzzles are kind of cool but the presentation is actually quite awful and the whole logic of this situation kind of escapes me. I suppose that Horus set these up to stop Sutekh’s followers from getting into the pyramid but does he just have the same voice as Sutekh? Is that what is going on? It also does not help the story that this section is all shot on CSO and, aside from some great model work, looks incredibly cheap and bad. The serial takes a really shoddy nosedive but the biggest insult of this whole affair is simply that the whole episode is a colossal waste of time. The Doctor and Sarah accomplish nothing in going to the pyramid and just turn around to go back to the house to save the day with a totally different plan by the end anyway. Neither the characters nor the audience gain anything at all from the whole sequence. 

Thus, this is the great conflict I have with Pyramids of Mars because I love watching it. I love the flavour of the story and the clear effort that everybody put in to make it the memorable, entertaining experience. For the most part, I am really sucked in by it. But it is not a masterpiece. In the end, there really isn't very much to say about it at all. This is a serial that feels like watching the tracks being laid when the train's already moving. It makes for a fun journey but the final destination is really shaky. Pyramids of Mars is exceptional in theory just leaves that little bit to be desired. 

It is still a cracking story though. After all, this is mid-70s Who we’re talking about.

[freepassbound]

Where did you go to see the eclipse?? Was it far? Sand dunes?

I went to Canada, on the north shore of Lake Erie - it was about a three-hour drive (with surprisingly little traffic). Technically speaking, I think it would just be one sand dune, or maybe one small complex of sand dunes - I didn't even know such a place existed along Lake Erie.

It was work. 😅

[writingwithcolor]

Desi Parenthood, Adoption, and Stereotypes

I have a story set in the modern day with supernatural traces, with three characters: a young boy, his bio dad, and his adoptive dad. The boy and his bio dad are Indian, the adoptive dad is Chinese. The bio dad is one of the few people in the story with powers. He put his son up for adoption when he was a child because at the time he was a young single father, had little control of the strength of his powers: he feared accidentally hurting his child. The son is adopted by the other dad, who holds spite to the bio dad for giving up his son since he lost his father as a young age and couldn't get why someone would willingly abandon their child. This also results in him being overprotective and strict over his son. When the child is older, the bio dad comes to their town and the son gets closer to him, which makes the adoptive dad pissed, mostly acting hostile to the other guy, paranoid that he'll decide to take away the child he didn't help raise. Later when they get closer he does change his biases. I can see the possible stereotypes here: the absent father being the darkskinned character, the light-skinned adoptive dad being richer than the bio dad, the lightskinned character being hostile and looking down on the darkskinned character, the overprotective asian parent, the adoptive dad assuming the bio dad abandoned the son. The reason for his bias isn't inherently racist, but I get how it can be seen that way. Is there a way to make this work? Would it be better to scrap it?

Two problem areas stand out with this ask: 

You seem confused with respect to how racial stereotypes are created, and what effect they have on society.

Your characterization of the Indian father suggests a lack of familiarity with many desi cultures as they pertain to family and child-rearing.

Racial Stereotypes are Specific

Your concern seems to stem from believing the absent father trope is applied to all dark-skinned individuals, when it’s really only applied to a subset of dark-skinned people for specific historical/ social/ political reasons. The reality is stereotypes are often targeted.

The “absent father” stereotype is often applied to Black fathers, particularly in countries where chattel slavery or colonialism meant that many Black fathers were separated from their children, often by force. The "absent black father" trope today serves to enforce anti-black notions of Black men as anti-social, neglectful of their responsibilities, not nurturing, etc. Please see the WWC tag #absent black father for further reading. 

Now, it’s true many desis have dark skin. There are also Black desis. I would go as far as to say despite anti-black bias and colorism in many desi cultures, if one was asked to tell many non-Black desis from places like S. India and Sri Lanka apart from Black people from places like E. Africa, the rate of failure would be quite high. However, negative stereotypes for desi fathers are not the same as negative stereotypes for non-desi Black fathers, because racially, most Black people and desis are often not perceived as being part of the same racial group by other racial groups, particularly white majorities in Western countries. Negative stereotypes for desi fathers are often things like: uncaring, socially regressive/ conservative, sexist. They are more focused around narratives that portray these men as at odds with Western culture and Western norms of parenting. 

Desi Parents are Not this Way

Secondly, the setup makes little sense given how actual desi families tend to operate when one or both parents are unable to be present for whatever reason. Children are often sent to be raised by grandparents, available relatives or boarding schools (Family resources permitting). Having children be raised by an outsider is a move of last resort. You make no mention of why your protagonist’s father didn’t choose such an option. The trope of many desi family networks being incredibly large is not unfounded. Why was extended family not an option?

These two points trouble me because you have told us you are writing a story involving relationship dynamics between characters of both different races and ethnicities. I’m worried you don’t know enough about the groups you are writing about, how they are perceived by each other and society at large in order to tell the story you want to tell.

As with many instances of writing with color, your problem is not an issue of scrap versus don’t scrap. It’s being cognizant of the current limits of your knowledge. How you address this knowledge deficit and its effect on your interpretation of your characters and the story overall will determine if readers from the portrayed groups find the story compelling.

- Marika.

I have one response: what? Where are the father’s parents? Any siblings? Is he cut off? Is he American? A Desi that has stayed in India? 

Estrangement is not completely out of the question if the father is Westernized; goodness knows that I have personal experience with seeing estrangement. But you haven’t established any of that. What will you add?

-Jaya

[irndad]

if you’re still doing flower prompts i’d love either Rainflower or Purple Lilac with spencer <3

a/n: heyyyy im alive! writing from my trip, love you guys, don't know the wc! flower prompts

Rainflower - realizing that you/they love them/you back

It comes on all at once. 

Spencer- he’s never been particularly good at knowing when he’s feeling romantic. There wasn’t any experience with it. He knows that he’s hardly anyone’s dream guy- all awkward gangly limbs, too tall and too full of information that no one wanted to hear.

He’s carved out a little corner of the world that he can be seen in, that he can be loved in- but he’s never really been under the notion that someone could want him. Spencer knows that he’s lucky to have even this- to have people that ignite the prickly and irritating parts of himself and love him despite about this. And while he might fantasize, daydream about a life where he can lace his long fingers with those of someone who sees him only in a loving gaze of joy, Spencer knows that he’s not the kind of person that gets that. He’s being rational about it- most days, he’s able to relegate this desire to be filled with fantasy. 

Except- something has been up lately.

His best friend is probably the best person that he’s ever met in his life. She’s a consultant with the BAU, and it’s been nice to know her, in so many ways. She’s funny and kind in a way that never seems to have a victim. Spencer is not the kind of person that particularly values physical beauty, but she possesses it in such a large margin that it is difficult to ignore. He’s actually distracted by it sometimes, having to take extra mental attention to her words when all he is drawn to is the lovely curve of her Cupid’s bow, and the both light and heavy weight of her gaze in him. I like when you look at me, he thinks. She never makes him feel small. 

When they’d met, he was reluctant to her presence in most regards. Spencer knows that when he is focused, he can be a solitary creature, and that he’s an acquired taste. But she never seemed to need time to acclimate to him. From her first day, she listened to him when he spoke, and god, she squeezed his shoulder when she walked past him. 

She never had to try to like him. He was never a concession to her. 

This morning, she is late to work. He tries not to time it, but he enjoys the ritual of his mornings far more when he’s with her. He makes her tea and greets her first thing, and she asks about his evening the day prior. He tells her about whatever foreign film or Russian book he read the night before, a little too earnestly. She listens with her lovely doe eyes, sipping slowly as she transitions into her day. It doesn’t feel like patience with her- it feels like she actually cares what he has to say. Their routine is a warm radio crackle of familiarity, his favorite part of his day.

But she’s late today.

When she walks in, she’s a little frazzled and  so, so, adorable. She’s in a T-shirt that looks so familiar to him, and a pair of jeans that look lovely on her pretty legs. It’s a pleasure, looking at her. He wish he had more time to do it, wants to leisurely drink in the sight of her like he has all the time in the world, it never feels long enough to look.

Her hair’s frazzled and she’s just about 5 minutes late- Hotch hasn’t even come out of his office yet, but she’s clearly nervous.

“You’re okay,” he hears himself say, as she plunks down her bag on the desk, “I have your tea.” 

He doesn’t expect her to look up, but she does. She looks up at him and beams, and Spencer- his heart swells. She grabs the cup, dainty pretty fingers wrapped around the curve of it, and she beams her so-sweet smile at him, and god, his knees might buckle. Has it always been this way? 

He drinks in the sight of her, as she runs a hand through her hair in a worried, incredibly endearing gesture. She’s beautiful, he thinks to himself. He wonders aimlessly, that she might have been meeting with a man this morning. It might be the explanation for the dishevelment. 

The burning bit in his chest this causes is one that lacks explanation. It hurts in a way that he cannot explain- she is not a realistic dream for him to have. It’s not like he’s never thought about the idea of the two of them together. It’s a fleeting thought, like the consideration if your life if you could fly. It’s not a dream that warrants real consideration. 

But when their fingers brush, her light touch on his hand, he can’t help but wonder what it would be like if she wanted him.

“Thank you, Spence,” she says, warm voice dripping with gratitude and something in his heart warms at the nickname, “You’re my hero.”

She takes a sip of it, and closes her eyes in a contemplative, restful moment. It’s unfairly adorable.

He’s never actually thought about it, until this moment. But her beauty transcends just being pure fact, a thing to note about his reality. It would be nice, Spencer thinks. It hits him like a tidal wave, images of her gorgeous laugh washing over him on a Sunday morning, the curve of her cheek, a world where he can hold her by the dip of her waist, where her ever-present kindness meant that she might, could, maybe, love him.

Love him back.

She has whipped cream on her finger. She took the lid of the drink off to have the whipped cream. 

He is so, so fucked. 

“Have I told you that I love you today, boy-genius?” 

Even though she’s kidding, and he stammers out a reply of acknowledgment, it is in this moment he knows, with the certainty of every empirical journal he has ever read. 

Spence Reid is hopelessly in love with his best friend, and there is absolutely nothing he can do about that. 

It’s still nice to want, though. 

[leahsgirl]

blind date | leah williamson x reader

in which you and your fellow england teammate are set up on a blind date. no warnings, just pure fluff really.

i’m having such major writing block right now so hoping this pulls me out of it or i’ll scream. 💪

-

“wit woo!” your roommate alessia hollered as you finished putting on your earrings.

“do i look okay?” you did a full spin, showcasing the tight fitting black dress you had on that fell just above your knees, gold heels on ur feet, gold jewellery and your hair that flowed below your shoulders in loose curls.

“you look gorgeous - your date won’t know what hit them.” the blonde replied with a smirk, coming over and fixing your necklace so the clasp didn’t keep slipping to the front.

“can’t believe youse have bullied me into this.” your national teammates had made your love life the new topic of interest since you was ‘hot and single’ and should ‘get out there more’.

while they raised a good point, a blind date is the last thing you wanted considering you was probably the most socially awkward person going when meeting new people. not to mention; your teammates planned it which in itself is enough to make you not want to go.

“you’ll have a great time, wouldn’t be surprised if you hear wedding bells at the end of it.” the forward winked having way too much fun at this whole scenario.

“calm your horses russo, i don’t plan on that for another five years.”

seeing the time you scramble to get your belongings and find your car keys. “right i’m off wish me luck!” you shout out as you close the front door.

from the adress that tooney had messaged you beforehand you found yourself outside a small restaurant at the end of a street. it looked nice and welcoming from the outside to be fair.

now when your teammates said blind date, you didn’t expect to walk in to sheer darkness, bumping into something as soon as you entered the premises.

“name.” what you can only assume was a waiter asked. “oh sorry; y/n.”

“ah right this way miss - if you could just place your hand on my colleagues shoulder and we’ll guide you through.”

following the man’s instructions you lightly gripped the man and was led into a separate room which was still as dark, but you could at least hear voices of other customers there.

“your seat madam, your date should arrive shortly.” great you thought, first one to arrive which only meant more nerves could inevitably build up.

trying to burn some of the time you felt the table, getting to grips with where the cutlery and place mats were.

“miss your date has arrived, please take a seat.” the man motioned to the booth not that anyone could see it. “thank y- ah shite!”

“are you okay?” you asked after hearing a slight bang.

“yeah just banged my pissing thigh on the table.” the voice was one of a woman’s, also one that was incredibly familiar.

“not the best way to start a date eh. i’m leah.”

“shut up!” alessia’s playful comments and expressions, teammates overwhelming interest, the whole blind date notion in general now making a whole lot of sense.

“wow can’t say i’ve ever had that greeting.” the england captain a little confused.

“no leah it’s me, y/n.”

“piss off.” you could hear the disbelief in her voice, she too apparently well unaware of the obvious set up.

“take it you were also forced to go on a date with a stranger.”

“oh i’m so going to kill georgia for this.” leah scoffed before pausing “not because the date is with you! i just mean the whole deceit in general.”

“don’t worry i’ll be planning lessi and tooney’s revenge after.”

“gotta give them credit though, they’ve paired two incredibly hot women together.” leah was smirking while you was essentially swooning over the fact she called you hot.

“yeah but why? it’s not like you like me romantically or anything.”

just before leah could reply one of the waiters returned to the table “can i get you ladies something to drink?”

“erh i’ll have a margarita please.” you deciding on the same thing and ordering it.

“well we may as well treat this as a date considering that’s what we’re here for.” there was a brief pause. “so y/n, what do you do for a living?”

you laugh as you engage in her playfulness. “i’m actually a professional football player, both man united and england.”

“oh wow that’s cool, do you like it?” the older girl asked faking curiosity, resting her chin on her hand as she moved closer.

“it has its ups and downs, there’s this girl on my national squad though who is super competitive - she cried when i beat her at mario kart.” you beamed knowing leah would not appreciate the bringing up of her defeat.

“hey you said you’d let that go!” breaking away from her ‘never met you before’ character. “sorry.” (you wasn’t sorry at all).

“okay my turn; do you have any hobbies?”

“i’m quite good at kicking a ball around too to be fair.” you quirked a brow. “oh are you?”

“yeah if you google leah williamson you might see some of my skills. i’m also very good at sudoku.” the blonde wasn’t lying considering you’ve watched her play it hundreds of times, you yourself never being able to grasp the game.

after a bunch of easy, lighthearted conversation, food had arrived, leah opting for a steak and you on pasta.

“oh my god this is to die for.” having your first taste and the flavours melting on your tongue. “you’ve gotta try this.” you move your spoon towards the blonde’s direction “that’s my eye babe.” she said with a laugh, your cheeks immediately flushing at the embarrassing miscalculation and pet name. “shit my bad.”

“mhm your right, might have to swap plates.” leah acknowledging the how delicious it was.

“back off williamson.” you reply sternly as you wack away her hand with the back of your unused fork.

time was going by pretty fast, the pair of you fully present and engaged with each other. you didn’t even bother looking at your phone which now had a build up of messages off your friends asking how it was going.

maybe you both were a little tipsy when leaving the restaurant after splitting the bill, having taken a tumble up the step.

the cold breeze was like a harsh slap to your face once outside, a large juxtaposition from the building that was warm and cozy.

“wow.” a stunned leah stood behind as she took you in. “what?” having now taken notice to the blatantly obvious staring from the arsenal player.

“you. you look incredible.” her eyes racking every single inch of your body. “i’ve never really seen you this dressed up. it’s hot.”

“y’know being showered in compliments by leah williamson isn’t half bad.” revelling in the smooth girls words of praise.

“and yet i don’t get a single one back.” jutting out her lip and faking hurt which only made you laugh and roll your eyes.

“i guess you do scrub up okay, the outfit is a solid 9/10 i’d say.”

“we’ve got to improve on those compliment skills.” the blonde scoffed.

“can’t say anything too nice, that ego of yours will human combust.” you say already aware of the defenders cockiness/arrogance. “i’d say my ego is the perfect size thank you very much.”

“okay well thanks for this ‘date.’” using your hands to air quote. “-i’ve had a good time.”

leah smiled “me too.”

you stop for a second almost hesitating doing something before ultimately deciding against it, bidding your goodbye as you turned on your heel to make your way back to your car.

“y/n wait!” jogging to catch up with you, the blue-eyed girl grabbed at your arm making you stumble back and face her. “what’s up?”

her gaze flicking between your eyes and lips as her heart pounded out her chest “i forgot to do this.”

said barely above a whisper, her lips found themselves pressed against yours. the touch so light almost like she was afraid she’d scare you away.

that couldn’t be further from the truth though, with you reciprocating the kiss by deepening it as she moved her hands so they wrapped around your waist.

pulling away youse both had rosy cheeks and heaving chests, smiling dopily at each other.

“get in!” “fucking finally!” the pair looked around for the sudden screams, shock plastered on your face when you see ella and georgia peeping out behind a wall.

leah following your gaze and spotting the teammates “have you guys been watching us?!”

stanway was the one to reply “only the last five minutes; never knew you had that game within you lee.” winking, referring to the public display of affection youse just gave.

“it was so fun to see y/n swooning.” tooney added laughing menacingly.

you and leah lock eyes, sharing a look both of you seem to understand. “shall we get our revenge?” the captain asked slyly, you agreeing immediately.

taking notice of the devilish grins that were plastered on the pair, georgia and ella looked uneasy, starting to retract slowly but surely.

“come here you little shits!” running after the girls while they squealed like little kids, making their getaway.

[msfantasy-comics]

The Perfect Match

Bruce Wayne x Reader

Summary: A head cannon on how you’re the perfect match for Bruce.

Warning: Established relationships

Masterlist - Tip Jar

Bruce had always considered the concept of a perfect match to be a feeble notion. The idea that a someone could be perfect and perfectly compliment one’s self was simply illogical and just not possible.

But that’s the thing about hypotheticals, they’re just theories until proven otherwise. Bruce can distinguish five instances on when he recognised you to be his perfect match.

Intelligence:

You weren’t a genius capable of rattling off theories and solving impossible equations. Not by any means. You were, however, incredibly intelligent when it comes to people and making them feel important.

It wasn’t a super power or psychological trickery. It was that you listened to people and ask them questions about their hobbies or family.

It was the way that you leaned in as if you were keen to hear what that person had to say.

It was the way you smile softly when people start to babble off in excitement as you reciprocate the conversation

Whilst you didn’t fully comprehend quantum physics or the engineering to Bruce Wayne’s degree

You sat there happily indulging Bruce as he discusses a new equation he solved

It was the way you made him feel like he could talk about anything without judgement or without your eyes wondering elsewhere in boredom.

Bruce: “Anyway, you probably have more important things to do.”

Y/n: “Don’t be silly. You’re just as important. Go on, finish what you were saying.”

Independence:

Bruce dreaded needy women who are utterly incapable of being self-sufficient. Who required rescuing and constant entertainment like a puppy.

Bruce: “I have an emergency work trip for an unspecified amount of time. I probably won’t be able to contact you too much. Will you be okay without me?”

Y/n *acting like a damsel in distress*

Y/n: “Oh no! I’m being abandoned in the biggest mansion with a butler, a library and a black Amex card. What could one do with one’s self? What a travesty!”

Bruce would return from his two week trip excited to see you again after not being in contact the whole time.

Only you weren’t at the mansion at 4pm on a Tuesday.

Bruce *calling your phone*

Y/n: “Hi honey! I missed you so much!”

Bruce: “Come home and show me how much you’ve missed me.”

Y/n: “What? I finish work in an hour, surely you can survive 60 more minutes without me- oh I have to go, I’ll see you soon my love!”

Supportive:

Bruce didn’t make it to your anniversary dinner.

He didn’t even have a chance to call you and cancel.

He exited the bat cave feeling utterly guilty for abandoning you on such an important occasion.

Bruce felt utterly defeated. A failure of a father. Batman got into a one on one fist fight with Red-Hood, attempting to save the Jokers life, only for his son to forsake himself. Now he had to face his failures as a husband.

Opening the door he sees you laying in bed, scrolling away at your phone.

As soon as you noticed him you tossed the phone and made a mad dash, pulling him into a bear hug.

Y/n: “Honey, I’m so proud of you. Being there when your son needed you most. You’re such a good man. Don’t be hard on yourself, remember that Jason is a grown man who made his decision.”

Pulling Bruce to bed, you pull him into a tight hold and continue to comfort him.

Bruce really appreciated that you didn’t bring up his absence.

Bruce: “I missed our -“

Y/n: “You didn’t miss anything. Your with me now aren’t you? Happy anniversary my beloved.”

Emotionally Stable:

Damian was over your nagging.

Y/n: “Damian, you need to get more sleep. I’m worried your burning yourself out.”

Y/n: “When was the last time you had a proper meal? You can’t survive off burgers alone you know.”

Y/n: “When was the last time you saw Jon? You have to maintain your friendships or else they fall apart.”

Y/n: “Stop having these energy drinks! It’s basically poison for your body - have you had any water today? You look dehydrated!”

You snatched the can out of his hand and threw it in the bin.

Damian lost his absolute shit.

Damian: “Enough with your incessant criticism!You’re getting on my nerves!”

Crosses his arms over his chest and looks off in irritation.

Bruce stands frowning behind him, ready to give his son the scolding of a life time.

But instead your laughter booms across the bat cave.

You find Damian’s little outburst amusing and adorable rather than rude and hurtful.

Y/n: “You’re right D, I’m sorry, I’ll lay off you a bit.”

You’d pull him into that tight hug he says he hates but he always leans into your comforting hold.

Y/n: “You boys be careful tonight, I’ll see you both in the morning”

[sashayed]

have you heard that jordan peele said steven yeun's character is the one that has the most in common with him. have you thought about how most of his cinematic career has been built around discussions of race and the traumas that come from racism. have you thought about how any media handling real and personal topics is a sort of emotional self-disembowelment on the part of the creator. have you thought of the glory and horror of being Seen. have you screamed

Have I? HAVE i. Have I thought about how Peele has discussed being objectified and tokenized on set, especially early in his career? Have I thought about what it's like to suffer real-life trauma in a space created for make-believe? Buddy, I haven't thought about anything else for days!!

I think one thing that makes this movie so visceral to me is that it's an exploration by a great popular artist on the human cost of making popular art. The link between the auteur and the cult leader--both are people consumed & defined by stories, people who are compelled by a narrative and feel an urge to spread that narrative to an audience.

And I am really impressed by how hard Peele seems to work to reject the cult leader in himself as best he can -- to make art that enriches the lives of ALL THE PEOPLE WHO MAKE IT. Every interview is about how collaborative and present he is as a director. Obsessed with this Q&A for many reasons but this moment sticks with me:

KEKE PALMER: There would be moments where we’re going through different parts of this script, this story, from when we first rehearsed to when we were actually on set, or when we had an idea that happened that morning. I would be listening, my head would be down, I’d be listening to what Jordan’s saying, I’m like, man this is deep. And I look up and there’d be just this one little tear falling. Man, this brother’s deep. JORDAN PEELE: I’m not afraid to cry as a director. KP: And he’s chill! He’d be like, “That’s what happens” and tears are falling. I’m like, “Are you all right?” But he keeps going and he’s like “Yeah, yeah. So that’s the thing.” And then he just walks out.

To me, that reads as a person who is NOT JUST super smart and deep and creative etc but who is also aware every moment of how lucky he is to be doing what he's doing, and who is not ashamed of his own reaction to that gratitude. What's to be ashamed of? It's incredibly fun! He is having an amazing time! He's hanging out with people he likes and respects and coating actors with goop in the esophageal tube! What a job!

I wonder if, to be that thankful and that aware (and that collaborative), you have to have experienced the flip side; if you have to have been Jupe, at least for a little while. I wonder if the process of -- to some extent -- commodifying your own suffering (as capitalism practically demands that artists do in order to survive as artists) leads, almost inevitably, to a moment where you think, "I survived this horror and became a Star because I am the main character of reality: I am more special than other people, I have a special ability to communicate, I have a special destiny." That is a powerful story and a seductive one, but if you don't leave it behind, it will eat you and the people around you alive.

It seems to me like an extension of what Peele is exploring in Us--the notion that your contentment is entangled with someone else's suffering. Why you? Why not the person with all your qualities who for whatever reason never ended up where you are? Especially for creators with marginalized identities, right? "Am I occupying a space that should belong to someone else?" You can avoid that question by deciding that you have special individual qualities that make you the Chosen One, as Jupe does. Or you can accept that the question will always haunt you, that luck (LUCKY THE FINAL HORSE??) has no logic, and you try to spread your luck out and open your space up to as many other people as you can. Which you see Peele doing all the time! Gah!!

[okkotsuus]

the boy you loved (sae i.) !

features: sae i.

contents: angst. hurt no comfort. mild swearing. toxic realtionship. nostalgia. reader flinches. door slam. breakup. it hurts sorry lol. 1.8k words.

to the world, sae itoshi was a catch. he is a pro athlete, beautiful, and rich, everything someone could ever want in a partner. sae itoshi is at the pinnacle of his sport at the age of eighteen years old. he was at the forefront of it for longer.

fame has changed sae itoshi.

you knew sae itoshi before the world did. you knew him before the flashing cameras and cheering crowds, back when he couldn’t even kick a soccer ball without falling flat on his ass. sae itoshi was awkward, dorky, and kind. sae itoshi was the boy you loved.

it all began to change when he slowly climbed the ranks of soccer. his goofy grins became more mellowed, shyness turning to aversion. but most of all, he was no longer kind. sae itoshi was no longer the sweet boy who would hold your hand as you walked to school. sae itoshi was no longer to considerate boy that made sure to have your favorite snacks at his home. sae itoshi was no longer the tender-hearted boy who you fell in love with.

sae itoshi is now a man who’s as foreign to you as a stranger.

yet, for some reason, you can’t seem to let him slip through your fingers. nor can he let you slip from his. in a never ending cycle one always ends up crawling back to the other. like some twisted kind of soulmates you can never escape each other.

you loved sae itoshi the boy, but sae itoshi the man is a whole other story.

loving the man, sae itoshi, is many things, but it is not easy.

loving sae itoshi is tiring.

sitting up on the couch of his apartment for the nth night in a row, waiting and watching the door like a dog for him to come home. 

sae was incredibly dedicated to his sport, staying till the sun died. he just wanted one thing when he came home: to see you. the first thing he wanted to see when he got home was you. the notion had your head spinning and heart pounding when he so boldly proclaimed it.

but now, when you sit on the couch like a wilted flower, you begin to question just how flattering it was. your eyes ached from keeping them open for so long, the soft glow of the lamps beginning to slowly drive you insane.

this empty apartment is exhausting. but you couldn’t blame him. his schedule is bound to be busy, he is a professional athlete, after all.

the lock clicks as your head raises from the phone in your hands. he walks in and looks at you, before immediately walking away. your heart cracks a little more every time this happens.

he is a ritualistic man, it seemed saying “hi” or “missed ya” would throw it off too much.

so, you stand and walk to the bedroom, tucking yourself under the covers while the gentle flow of the shower lulls you to sleep.

you feel the bed slightly dip sometime later into the night, but the wave of sleep sweeps you back under the surface immediately after. what you do not feel: is warmth or an arm around you.

loving sae itoshi is stressful.

sae leaves for long periods of time consistently. you accept that he cannot always be home, but you ask that he at least texts you moderately.

sae has a habit of ghosting people when he’s away, then just coming back like he’s greater than thou. not like it’s the first time it’s happening.

he’s been gone for two weeks now and hasn’t said a single thing to you. no texts, no calls, nothing. you were worried. you trusted him, it’s not that. he’s just so far away, what if something happened and the last thing he said to you was “bye,” when he left the home for the airport two weeks ago.

you don’t want to think like this, but this new sae was brash in a way that would get him hurt one day. he spoke his mind with no sense of self-preservation, he had no idea of customs in other countries, and he wouldn’t take one damn minute to text you a single word.

so you call rin, asking him with a quiver in your voice if he’s heard from sae. he hasn’t. but can’t help the choked whine that slams in your chest, quickly thanking him and hanging up. your eyes begin to well tears as you pace the empty apartment that seems a lot more foreboding than exhausting now.

crystalline drops run over your face as you desperately try to calm yourself, you were being dramatic. sae always was there to hold you when you cried as a kid, but now you were crying alone because of that same sweet boy.

you fall asleep on the couch that night, not able to bear the vast emptiness of the bed that was meant to be shared.

loving sae itoshi is slamming doors.

sae was back soon enough, walking into the apartment as if nothing had happened. he watched as you remained seated, not rising to excitedly greet him like your normally would. his brow furrowed as he left it, leaving you on the couch again when he returned home to unpack.

sae itoshi would rather let a problem steep and fester than deal with it directly. the boy you loved would stutter out of concernwith the most adorable flush on his rounded cheeks. but this man was a shell of the boy who loved you, the boy who still holds your one and only heart.

“what’s up with you?” his words come out abrasive as he stands in the bedroom doorway, one hand idly towel-drying his hair while the other was poised against his hip. he had a way of making it feel like you were the problem.

“what’s up with me?! sae you ghosted me for nearly three weeks, do you know how worried i was?” your own voice punches out of your chest before you can bite your tongue to hold back the words. watching as his eyes widen and he gets that haughty look on his face, you hated that look, that sneer.

he spoke with a venom, green eyes drilling into your form. “i’m a grown man, you don’t need to fuss over me. get over it, we’re not snot-nosed brats anymore, y/n.” you felt yourself flinch back as he ended his sentence with a punctuated scoff. he turned and shut the door a little louder than needed, you flinched back as it slammed: slightly shaking on its hinges.

now that he was gone, the tears flowed free again. you really were still a snot-nosed brat, weren’t you? the thought was mocking as the vast apartment began to feel more and more like a cage.

you fell asleep on the couch with dried rivers of tears shed staining your cheeks, nose rubbed raw from incessantly wiping it on your sleeve.

loving sae itoshi is nostalgic.

sae isn’t all bad nowadays. sometimes you could see the sweet boy that put bandaids on your scraped knees peek through.

in the light of the early morning, his eyes are bright and the soft glow makes his face feel more soft. it reminds you of waking up from sleepovers at the itoshi house, sae’s sleepy face and his messy bed hair.

when he plays football you are reminded of the boy who couldn’t shoot without falling flat on his face. you remember kissing the tip of his reddened nose while wiping the tears that threaten to escape from the corners of his sea-glassy eyes.

when he’s eating his dinner, you see the boy who stuffed his face with puffy cheeks. you see the boy who shoveled food into his mouth after practice, insisting that he needed to grow.

sae itoshi was still the boy you fell in love with, he was just a little lost.

times like this forced you to acknowledge that it was not actually his past self shining through. rather, it was you so desperately looking for any semblance of a shred of the boy who you once loved.

sae itoshi is no longer the boy you fell in love with, that boy died when he went to spain.

loving sae itoshi is hard.

this decision wasn’t easy. everytime the thought even crossed your mind you felt your eyes sting and your nose run hot. 

but the truth was inevitable and unforgiving. passing moments of joy could no longer help alleviate the aching pain that echoed in the deepest expanses of your soul.

sae itoshi was no longer the boy who you fell in love with, it was the inevitable truth.

you didn’t believe that sae loved you any longer, rather coexisting with you as stability.

you don’t ever want to be a roommate to your partner.

you needed to break up with sae itoshi, to let go of the boy who was so long gone. 

for once in your life, the apartment did not feel so bad. it felt like being in your childhood home for the last time before going off to college.

sae was off today, you planned it so he would be, not wanting to spring it one him before or after practice.

“sae, we need to talk."

sae knew he had messed up when he heard those words come from your mouth. but the safety net of your unconditional love had spoiled him. so he did not expect for you to leave.

when you said you were leaving, it began to wear. but it was still there, so he expected that you would be coming back soon.

when weeks turned to months with nothing but occasional passing conversations, he began to sweat.

sae itoshi, the ultimate catch, had just lost the love of his life.

the net snapped as he was left falling, plunging into an endless regret. sae itoshi was reminded of every single time he had given you the cold shoulder. every single time he was ruder than necessary. every single time he had forgotten he loved you.

sae itoshi knew he was no longer the boy you loved. but you are still the kid that he fell in love with, the only one who captured his heart.

and he pushed you away.

and damn, it hurt like hell when his apartment began to feel eerily empty without you, a bed meant to be shared becoming cold without another body in it.

sae itoshi realized how you had felt the entire time.

okkotsuus 23

[ari-the-arotistic]

So I was thinking about pirates of the Caribbean, and each characters unique moral code and way of approaching life, as one does, when I remembered a particular scene about our beloved James Norrington... the very first scene in which Jack and James meet. Now, as a long time Sparrington shipper, I adore the Sparrington fandoms adopted head canon of Jack's compass pointing directly at Jack when James is holding it as having a romantic connotation too it, but this is Disney we're talking about, and a Disney from 20 years ago at that, so it is of course just a head canon. And while it is a beloved head canon, I will always be a writer before a shipper, and what that scene says about Norrington from a writer's perspective is far too juicy not to share... So buckle up for a very long meta post about who James Norrington is as a person, and how it was set up in this scene(and later reinforced in the second and third movie). This is my first real meta post, and I'm very excited for it, so let's jump right in.

First of all, the compass scene.

As we can clearly see in the image above, since the red line that points to the object of the holder's desires is no where to be seen, its relatively easy to conclude that it's hidden from our view by the sun dial in the middle, and thusly is pointing directly at Jack. Elizabeth is off to James's right, and no one is standing behind Jack, so unless the compass was pointing at something in the far off distance that just so happened to be in Jack's general direction(unlikely) its pretty clear what(or who) the compass is pointing at. For most potc fans, this is fairly standard knowledge. But it's what this fact says about Norrington's character that I'd like to focus on. After all, what does it say about a man that a compass that shows you what you desire most is pointing at a pirate, and the very face of piracy at that, instead of your canonical love interest, when you're a Commodore of the Navy? As stated above, Sparrington shippers often point at this scene as proof that James has a bit of a pash on the ruggedly handsome pirate, or at the very least, a thing for men. But from a writer's perspective, this just simply isn't the case, and not because the writer's in this instance are the notoriously homophobic corporation we call Disney. The reason why this is so unlikely from a writing perspective is because given the context clues, we as an audience are meant to draw the conclusion that this is the first time that they meet(I have heard rumors of them meeting as children in the books, but having never read them, and focusing only on the movies, I'm not including that in this post). And since this is the first time they've met, it's highly unlikely that the compass is pointing at Jack because James has a bit of a thing for him. Even if James has heard of Jack's many exploits, he does not truly know the man behind the legend, so having romantic feelings for the pirate at this point in time just isn't believable. And even if James was a closeted gay/bi man, it's still unlikely that the compass would be pointing at Jack of all the men around the Commodore(of which there is a lot, some of whom he is incredibly close with) seeing as Jack is the poster boy of piracy, and at this point in the movie it's made abundantly clear that James vehemently detests the notion and all who practice it. If James were to be holding the compass in Jack's vicinity in later movies and it still pointed at the pirate, an argument could definitely be made that it was because he had developed feelings for Jack, but for their first meeting, it's just not realistic. So it's much more likely that the reason the compass is pointing at Jack is because of James's desire to send every pirate he meets to "a quick drop and a sudden stop" as he so eloquently put it to a young Elizabeth. This is further reinforced in the third movie when it is revealed that Beckett's desire to have Jack dead at his feet would prevent him from using the compass to find Shipwreck Cove if the pirate was not already at the aforementioned location, or, well, dead. This is again, relatively common knowledge. But like I said before, it's what this fact says about James that is the whole point of this post... and that is that James cares more about his career than anything else, even the woman he claims to love. Now for some, that statement alone might seem like a pretty obvious conclusion, but it's how this scene subtlety sets up this core aspect of Norrington's character before we even truly get to know who he is, and how it's brought to it's full height in the second movie, and the core aspect of his redemption and subsequent death in the third that I'd really like to talk about. Which brings us to the next segment of this post...

How James lost his commission to the navy...

And how he got it back

So let's start off with how James lost his commission... it's a story we all know pretty well, and one he tells to Gibbs in the scene shown above, when he plans to either join Jack's crew or get revenge on the man that(he believes) ruined his life. After Jack's escape in the first movie, James grew obsessed with capturing the pirate, so much so that he foolishly followed the Black Pearl into a hurricane, resulting in the sinking of the Dauntless, and the loss of countless lives that had been aboard the vessel. It's unclear aside from James himself who had been on the ship at the time, and who did or did not survive, but the death toll was heavy, with most, if not everyone who wasn't James, having perished in the storm. While it is not the most extreme example(which we'll get too in just a bit), this is a pretty clear example of James prioritizing his career above everything else, even reason and logic. And all just to capture a singular pirate, even at the cost of his own ship and crew, and rather ironically, the very career that he had been so desperately trying to hold onto in the first place. Which brings us to the next scene I'd like to discuss... James stealing the heart of Davy Jones. This moment is the absolute peak of this part of James's character. This is the moment where James takes his obsessive need for his career to the max. This is the moment where James truly prioritizes his career above everything else, even the woman he claims to love(and for Sparrington shippers, above the man he's reluctantly come to care about). At this point in time, when James decides to take the heart for himself to regain his old station, he's been on the Black Pearl long enough to know the full situation. That Jack is in some kind of trouble with Davy Jones, and that if Jack doesn't use the heart to bargain for his freedom, then the Kraken will hunt Jack, and subsequently the Black Pearl, down until he and everyone aboard are dead. And that includes Elizabeth. And yet, despite knowing that stealing the heart would basically mean sealing Elizabeth's death, he still decided to do so. Sure, the argument could be made that he thought Elizabeth would be able to escape somehow, but the chances of her dying at sea, or some other terrible fate befalling her before she could safely make it back to civilization would have been highly likely. Of course we as an audience know that this isn't the case, but James does not. So essentially, James was so obsessed with his career, and maintaining the image of the honorable Commodore that he didn't even truly register that he was putting Elizabeth, the woman he loves and has been trying so desperately to woo for the past two movies, in danger. And he won't fully realize the consequences of his actions until the third movie, in a deleted scene no less(I swear when I find whoever decided to delete some of the most important scenes to James's character...), when Davy Jones informs Governor Swann of his daughters untimely demise on the Black Pearl. Of course, almost immediately afterwards, Beckett retcons that statement by informing the Governor that Elizabeth was recently seen in Singapore, but for a few minutes, James has to sit with the fact that Elizabeth was dead, and it was his fault. And even after learning that she was in fact still alive, James has now finally come to the realization that if she had still been on the Black Pearl when it sank with its Captain, he would've been the one to send her to her death. And for Sparrington shippers, James has to sit with the unavoidable fact that he was the reason Jack had died(even if the pirate does come back), despite the fact that it was Elizabeth's betrayal that was the final nail in Jack's coffin, since she wouldn't have had to do that if the Kraken wasn't after them in the first place. Which brings us to the final scene I'd like to discuss...

James choosing a side, and paying the price

Now, before we fully delve into this scene, I'd like to take a moment to talk about James's own perception of himself, and his relationship with honor and integrity. From the very first scene in which we meet James Norrington, we are made aware that he has a strong moral compass. He firmly believes piracy is evil, and that all who partake in piracy deserve a swift end. He perceives his Commodore persona as being the paragon of honor and integrity, and the sole arbiter of justice. We can infer from the line "By remembering that I serve others, Sparrow, not just myself" that James does have honorable intentions when ridding the world of pirates, that being protecting the innocent citizens under his care, but as seen once again in the first time James and Jack meet, wherein James adamantly tries to arrest Jack despite the fact the fact that pirate had just saved Elizabeth's life, his actions to achieve that goal are not always quite as honorable as his intentions are. This is especially highlighted once again when James gave Beckett the heart of Davy Jones. James's intentions here were once again rooted in honor and integrity - he believes that the only way to keep people safe from pirates is too return to his old station, to the image of honor and integrity he had built around the title of Commodore, and the only way to return to his old station is to give Beckett the heart. But the action itself was far from honorable, seeing as James had to betray the woman he loved just to obtain the heart, and that he was now putting it into the hands of a dangerously unstable individual who planned on using it to commit mass genocide.

And now, we finally get to the scene above... Of course, it's made clear throughout his scenes in the third movie leading up to this one that James is already starting to regret giving Beckett the heart after seeing the damage being caused, but since Beckett is targeting pirates specifically(although we as an audience know that Beckett's definition of pirate is very loose) James figures that the ends justify the means, as he often does in situations regarding piracy. It is not until his reunion with Elizabeth, where he learns that Governor Swann is dead, and that Beckett lied to him about the Governor's whereabouts, that James truly realizes the enormity of his mistake. It is in this moment that James has a sudden realization that fundamentally shakes him to his core, and is the reason behind his change of heart later on. He realizes that the honorable Commodore persona that he had tried to cultivate and keep a hold of for so long had never been truly honorable at all, and that by giving Beckett the heart of Davy Jones, he had effectively tied the noose around the neck of his own honor and integrity, as well as the necks of hundreds, if not thousands of innocent people, with his own hands. And as that one vine goes, this was the moment James knew, he fucked up. Which leads to his decision to change sides in an attempt to redeem himself, and his subsequent death in the process. Of course, part of James's reason for helping Elizabeth escape was that he does care for her, but given everything I've detailed about him so far, I think it's safe to say the main reason that James decided to help Elizabeth and her crew was because he wanted to undo the damage he had done, and he had faith that Elizabeth, Will, and Jack would have some sort of plan to defeat Beckett, and stop any further damage to come from his mistake. And now, for his death scene itself... As much as I love the idea of James surviving and joining the pirates(whether at Elizabeth's side or Jack's is unimportant), I firmly believe that his death was a necessary end of this part of his character arc, and that if he were to survive he would still have to go through a major ego death for this part of his character arc to end properly. Because as Bill turner drives that wooden pike into James's gut, it's not just the physical death of his body, but also the metaphorical death of Admiral James Norrington, and the ideals that James had used to build the persona out of. So even if James survived, the Admiral would still have to meet his metaphorical end, thusly causing James to lose a core part of himself that had been guiding most his decisions so far, in the process, which would start the next part of his character arc, where he would have to deal with the loss of a key part of his personality, and rebuild himself from the ground up to finally, truly become the image of honor and integrity he had envisioned from the beginning.

And that concludes this very long post. I could probably wax enough poetics about this aspect of James's character to write a short novel, but I've said everything important to this post, and if I go on any longer, I'm likely to start repeating myself lol. Thank you for reading, and feel free to share your thoughts in the comments or a reblog! I will always love hearing more about our polished peacock <3

[plushyvi]

“it’s a common notion!”

game: fallout 4

characters: paladin danse, arthur maxson

summary: he gets a little jealous seeing someone else be interested in you the same way he is. he starts to wonder if it’s a common occurrence for you.

warnings: g/n! reader, they/them pronouns used, reader isn’t sole but you can read it as if they were, jealousy,

↣ paladin danse

“knight.”

you glance up from your seated position to see your sponsor, power armour and all, watching over you. “paladin danse. how was your search in lexington? find anything useful?”

“yes. recovered some brotherhood weapons and holotags for captain kells,” he explains to you as he watches you take your hands off the scribe in front of you, “what have you been doing since i left the prydwen?”

you think it was pretty obvious with how proctor cade has you running a mock infirmary in the armoury bay. you were given a white coat to show people you were acting as a second doctor to cade. the bay was filled with tens of soldiers who came back for a fight with the institute at a hold-out spot in the commonwealth, all injured and most near to death. cade’s office was packed and you offered your help since you worked closely with him a few times.

“are you blind, paladin?” you mumble out in a joking matter. danse shows a slightly embarrassed look. but you smile at him. “the most recent outpost the brotherhood established was overrun by synths. proctor cade cannot tend to all of these soldiers.”

“right…” he grumbles off as you turn back to scribe in front of you.

you hold his hand, wiping the blood off his palm and trying to clean his cut. he winces, but the obvious blush that patterns his pale cheeks is obvious. he cannot stop looking at you.

“i… i have some injuries i’d like you to look at,” danse suddenly speaks up. you look up at him from your seated position. “i know cade is busy.”

“oh, well, i’m also a bit preoccupied too, paladin,” you say and finish wrapping the scribe’s hand, “is it urgent? how badly does it hurt?”

“a ten,” he says without hesitation. you stare at him with a raised brow. “i, uh… just come see me when you have the time.”

you go to respond when proctor cade comes into the armoury in a hurry. his sleeves are tugged up to his elbows and he has dried blood on his fingertips. his eyes meet yours and he hurries over.

“thank you, knight y/n, i appreciate all your help,” he sincerely says. you finish off the bandages before sending the scribe off. he does so reluctantly and shakes your hand for a bit too long for danse’s liking. “i can handle the rest of the soldiers here. you need to get some rest yourself; elder maxson said that you had a tiring mission this morning.”

“are you sure, proctor?” you ask as you stand up. there were still a lot of patients here, albeit you had dealt with the more serious cases. many of the ones left were just injuries. “i can stay for another hour.”

danse stands behind you. cade, looking between the both of you, notices the paladin’s slightly furrowed brows. he only nods.

“yes, knight, do not worry. i’ve been the doctor on this ship for as long as i can remember, i know a thing or two,” he says to you. you nod your head and wipe off the blood on your own hands. “thank you for your help. i’m sure maxson is also grateful for your actions. now, go rest.”

you put the coat down on the box you were sitting on and take out the supplies from your pockets. the medkit was given to cade before you turned to danse.

“okay, leave your power armour here and i’ll meet you at your room.” you tell him. danse agrees and moves carefully around the patients to take off his armour.

as he removes it, the same scribe from before approaches him.

“paladin danse?” he mutters out quietly.

“yes, soldier?” danse replies, head held up tall.

“i wanted to say… thank you for teaching y/n the way of the brotherhood,” the scribe says to danse. his cheeks are tinted red and he plays with his fingers nervously. “they’re an incredible soldier, and they’re so nice… i admire them quite a lot—”

“that is ‘knight y/n’, scribe,” danse interrupts with a harsh tone. the scribe jumps a little at his words, and he slowly nods. “they are just doing their job, as they are ordered to.”

the scribe looks to the ground for a moment, a bit upset. danse feels like he should be apologetic, but he isn’t. he only keeps his stoic look on his face.

“right… i apologise, paladin danse, i did not mean to overstep my boundaries,” the scribe salutes to danse before looking away, “thank you, and knight y/n.”

danse lets the scribe go in silence.

“be easy on the kid, danse,” cade speaks up as he grabs some stimpacks from the box against the wall. danse turns his head to look at him. “it’s just a lil’ crush. knight y/n saved a lot of these soldiers, who wouldn’t be compelled to think about them?”

danse is quiet as he ponders the question. proctor cade goes to do his work as danse moves to his room.

he opens the door quietly to see you sleeping on his bed. your outer layer was taken off, jacket strewn on his desk and you laid on his bed, silently breathing. danse closes the door behind him and unzips the back of his uniform as quietly as he can without disturbing you.

truth be told, he wasn’t injured at all. his retrieval mission went as smooth as humanly possible, so he didn’t need to have anything looked over. he just wanted your attention on him.

he changes into a comfortable shirt and sweatpants before locking the door. it would be heinous is anyone caught you two together in his quarters. you yourself were in a tank top and your pants from your gear, shoes set by the bed. you looked peaceful.

danse sits on the bed as he stares at you.

cade had him thinking; did lots of people have a thing for you? if yes, then how many?

he feels as if it’s childish to wonder such a thing, but he couldn’t help himself. you were an intoxicating thought that clouded his mind.

he thinks that maybe you heard his thoughts, because you suddenly stir and turn around, now facing him. your eyes flutter open and danse feels his face heat up at how you look at him.

“ah, sorry,” you say and start sitting up and wiping your eyes, “i’m exhausted—”

danse leans forward and wraps an arm around your shoulders. he tugs you close before he lays down on the bed. his thin blanket is pulled on top of the both of you. your face is smushed against his chest and your hands press against his upper stomach, trapped.

“get some rest,” he tells you.

“danse…?” you murmur against his skin. he shivers. “what’s going on with you today? i don’t see any injuries.”

he doesn’t say anything in response at first, utterly embarrassed by how he’s acting. he would never tell off a scribe for something like that. perhaps he should apologise when he finds the time.

but for now, danse kisses the crown of tour forehead.

“nothing, soldier,” he sighs out quietly as he closes his eyes. he can feel your hands slowly circle around his waist before you tug him closer, “i was just concerned, is all.”

“i’m okay, danse,” you respond, “you didn’t have to lie.”

“i’m sorry…”

“it’s fine. let’s just sleep now.”

he keeps his eyes open for a bit longer, which prompts you to sigh and lift yourself up. he watches as you plant a kiss to his lips, gentle enough to try and lure him to sleep. he relaxed into you in seconds.

“just talk to me later.” you tell him with a small smile.

he manages to doze off not long after you. the whole entire time, he thinks about how the scribe is right — you are an amazing soldier, and you have the biggest heart. that’s why he fell in love with you.

could he really blame anyone else for doing the same?

↣ arthur maxson

he’s on the ground for a change as he decided he should accompany you on your next task: training the new initiates.

“keep your hands steady,” you say as you watch them attempt to shoot the glass bottles on the boxes. most shots miss. “and don’t hold your breath for so long. you want to pass out in front of the enemy?”

“no, knight-captain!” a call is heard from the firing team.

“i want to see a smashed bottle from each of you,” you say with crossed arms. you watch from the sidelines and see how confident they are with a weapon — which isn’t that much. “we aren’t moving on until we get a clean shot from each of you.”

elder maxson had taken it upon himself to come and watch how you trained them, and he’s impressed. you’re not bad at it, just the right mixture of tough and encouraging. however, he thinks maybe he should’ve asked someone else to do this.

“well done, initiate frieda,” you say as you walk behind her. she lowers her gun and looks back to you, big doe eyes. she was shorter than you and her eyes seemed like the glossiest thing in the world. “you’ll be a sharpshooter in no time. i’m impressed.”

maxson clenches his hands around his bicep. he's let you train initiates before. did you always act so friendly with them? no, you weren't even acting friendly, you were being... genuinely nice. it made maxson wonder how you survived out there.

as you continue to help the other initiates, the girl turns to her friend beside her and begins to squeal quietly.

“did you hear that? knight y/n likes me!” she giggles out, unaware of the looming presence behind her. her friend goes wide eyed before going back to shooting. “i hope i’m on their team when we’re ready for the field, they’re so nice and so pretty—”

“shoot initiate dina’s bottle, soldier.”

frieda slowly looks back behind her to see elder maxson’s glaring eyes. his presence shook her and made the poor girl panic. her laser pistol shoot in her hands before she gulped.

“y—yes, elder maxson, sir!” she replies loudly.

that grabs your attention. you stop mid-sentence as you were talking to another initiate. looking to see the commotion, you’re surprised when you get the scene of maxson standing a foot away from the initiate you had complimented, looking about as mad as ever. you let out a small sigh.

initiate frieda shakily aims at her friend’s bottle. it isn’t a surprise when she misses by a long shot. that makes her friend and all the other initiates, who witnessed you compliment the girl, cringe in fear. the girl swallows the lump of nervousness and carefully lowers her gun.

“if you cannot shoot the target on demand, or under any pressure at all, you are not a suitable candidate for not only the brotherhood, but for knight y/n’a team,” elder maxson’s booming voice reaches across the whole training ground. the initiate looks as if she’s about to cry. but the leader doesn’t let up. “their team is only filled with the ones i deem the best. if you wish to be chosen for such a task, you must work very hard.”

“yes, elder maxson.” initiate frieda mumbles. she wanted to shrivel up.

“and if i may give you a word for advice,” his voice goes quieter, but his glare is harsher. she feels like she’s seen a ghost. “keep you focus on the brotherhood’s goal of freeing the commonwealth. i assure you, knight y/n does not have the time or the interest in someone like you, the way you do for them.”

she’s silent for a moment before she nods her head. elder maxson lifts himself up high again before looking around to the older soldiers.

"take this as a warning to all of you," he shouts as he begins to march. you have to hold back from rolling your eyes. "the brotherhood is now your whole life. you have no time to think of anything other than the good of the commonwealth. if you have joined for any alterior motives," he takes the time to look at you up and down. you don't know whether to be offended or not. "it's best if you leave now while you still can."

the initiates are quiet before they call out a 'yes, sir!' to him. going back to their training, most of them are scared out of their minds. but frieda especially; all she even did was call you pretty.

"elder, may i speak with you for a moment?" you question with a clenched jaw. he stares at you and, without even confirmation, you grab the fur of his jacket and begin dragging him around the corner of a building. you turn back to the eavesdropping initiates. "continue your shooting. when i come back, i do not want to see a single bottle left standing. knight rhys, make sure no one is cheating!"

the knight standing to the side on watch duty at the airport perks up at his name. with a silent groan, he nods his head. he turns to face the initiates and calls out to them to begin. laser shooting fills your ears before you hide behind the corner with maxson.

"arthur!" you grumble out with furrowed brows. he raises a brow at you. "what are you doing? i told you that you could come and watch if it meant you were quiet and didn't scare off my initiates more than you needed to!"

he crosses his arms over his chest as if to show you that he was pissed off as well. you rest your hand on your hip.

"you need to get your initiates in check. you cannot have them thinking this way about you," he tells you with a shake of his head, "not only will they be fawning over you all the time instead of doing brotherhood work, they will be distracted on the battlefield. careless lives will be lost, knight."

"what are you even—arthur," you sigh as you rub your temple. it's not like he was wrong, you needed to whip them into shape, but it was so early. "this is my second lesson with these initiates. give me a week and i'll have soldiers. just... you need to calm down a bit. what happened?"

he holds back from telling you. maxson was only slightly above admitting that he was wrong, but he'd be damned if he had to admit this to you. the crease between his brows becomes more defined.

"initiate frieda will be under knight wagner's supervision. i don't believe she would be an asset to you."

"shouldn't i have a say in that, elder?" you inquire as you raised a brow, "she is becoming a good shooter, and she gets along well with other brotherhood soldiers. not only that, but she got the highest agility score on the first day. i'd say she is an acceptable candidate for my team."

maxson rolls his eyes at you. your eye twitches at his behaviour.

"arthur, seriously," you exhale slowly and take his gloved hand in yours. he finally drops his arms from his chest and slowly relaxes his shoulders. "what's wrong? you've never been so hostile towards an initiate before."

it takes him a moment to gather up the courage to tell you anything, but soon enough he does.

"it would seem that these new initiates have taken a liking to you," he admits, "and i... i don't intend on letting that go any further."

your heart melts at his words before you let the smile you were holding back now take over your face. it’s a little funny, which makes you cover your face with your free hand. maxson’s brow twitches at your reaction.

“alright, that’s enough, knight,” he scoffs at you. he yanks his hand out of yours and massages the back of his neck. “don’t coddle them, is my point. you have to be their commander, not their crush-magnet.”

“‘crush-magnet’? what are you, 12?” you joke with a hearty laugh. that makes his face turn pink with embarrassment. “it’s okay, arthur. i’ll make sure to keep them in line.”

he looks at your face a little longer before he nods his head. you smile again as he rests a hand on your shoulder. he’s always been sheepish when it comes to any form of affection towards you, even if it was just some kind words. you let him come closer to you and soon press a kiss to your cheek. an arm comes around to hold your waist and he sinks against you.

“captain y/n, they’ve successfully—” knight rhys comes around the corner to interrupt, only he widens his eyes at the scene. he stops on his tracks and clears his throat. maxson is quick to remove himself from you and you rake a step away from him. “ah, i apologise, i—i didn’t, uh… excuse me, but the initiates have cleared all the bottles.”

“thank you, rhys,” you say as you nod your head, “i’ll take it from here.”

he nods his head and walks away while rubbing his ear. you glance to maxson before you stretch your arms.

“okay, i have to get back to work,” you say as you straighten your jacket. maxson runs fingers through his hair and fixes his own overcoat too. “now if you’re going to stay, you need to keep quiet, arthur. they need to be scared of me too. the way you look at people is already enough to make them shit their pants.”

“alright, knight, i will still supervise.” he replies.

you flash him one last sweet smile before he hears you call out an order for combat training as you turn the corner. he stands there for a few seconds longer.

he’d have to get over the fact that you were as amazing to him as you were to others.

[bitbugbites-re]

𝚅𝚒𝚛𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚢 | 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔬𝔫𝔰

headcanons on how different RE men would take your virginity !

tumblr exclusive!

characters: Albert Wesker, Carlos Oliveira, Chris Redfield, Ethan Winters, Leon S. Kennedy

gender: gn! reader

cw: NSFW, FLUFF // virginity // ktober

a/n: to everyone reading this, i hope you have/had a good day today! <3

𝕬𝖑𝖇𝖊𝖗𝖙 𝖂𝖊𝖘𝖐𝖊𝖗 (any rendition)

Do you need to be in a relationship first?

No, it wouldn't be important to Wesker if you were in a relationship or not first. He doesn't come off as the type of guy to believe the notion that first times are sacred

Who initiates?

Probably you. I can't see him being too pushy/eager to have sex, as he seems like he would have a fairly tame-to-low sex drive tbh

Although, that doesn't mean he's against it or other displays of affection. He's just not horny 24/7 (for some reason, despite all of the smut that i've written, i am utterly and completely intimidated by the word "horny." this word is my achilles heel. i fear that i will never escape it's incredible power to make me want to fall to the floor and sob at its horrific-ness. however, today, i have powered through it for you, with only a few tears and trembles involved).

What kind of foreplay?

I feel like his go-to foreplay in this situation would be kissing and fingering, honestly. Very basic foreplay, nothing too insane.

He'd probably make eye contact with you the entire time he fingered you, too.

How long does it last?

The entire ordeal, from foreplay to finishing, would probably last less than 30 mins. I feel like he'd be skilled at both foreplay and penetration itself, and would get straight to the point.

I also feel like he would be a little nicer and more sweet during your first as compared to any other time

I doubt he would drag things out/tease you too much for your first time, unless you wanted him to

Is it good?

Yeah, it'd be good sex. Although, if you're a romantic, it might be a little disappointing if you have an idealized "first time" in mind

Overall? Probably a 7/10. Somewhere between average to pretty decent sex

𝕮𝖆𝖗𝖑𝖔𝖘 𝕺𝖑𝖎𝖛𝖊𝖎𝖗𝖆 (re3r)

Do you need to be in a relationship first?

If he knows you're a virgin? Yeah. If he doesn't know? Nope!

Tbh I feel like he would forget to ask, and would just automatically assume you've done-the-deed before. Although, he'd probably figure out at some point building up to penetration, in which case, he'd most likely pull back and offer to get to know you better first

Who initiates?

Could go either way. I can see him respecting that first times are important, and thus not bringing it up until you mention it or get overly touchy. However, he likely would try to gently tip-toe around the topic -- he'd make a lot of jokes about it, get a little touchy, put himself out there more by dressing or smelling nice -- all to gauge where you're at or to put the idea in your head

What kind of foreplay?

Anything. Everything. Whatever you want -- getting oral, being fingered, sucking him off or fingering him (if you're into that) -- he'd do it.

HOWEVER. There would be some limits -- I don't think he'd do anything too crazy. He would try to keep it fairly vanilla for your first time. He'd tell you that he'd be willing to do whatever in the future (WITHIN BOUNDS...), but your first time should be like a 'trial period' or something like that

How long does it last?

I feel like out of every other character on this list, sex with Carlos would take the longest. And most of it would probably be foreplay

I'd also bet that he'd be able to last a good amount of time during penetration as well. He knows his limits, and if he starts getting close, he'll change positions or use some other method to prolong intercourse.

Is it good?

YES. I feel like if you like passionate, whirlwind-like displays of affection, then Carlos would be the best one for you out of all the other characters on this list. He knows what he's doing, and he knows where to touch in order to make you feel good

Overall? Around an 8 or 9/10. He would not fail to sweep you off your feet

𝕮𝖍𝖗𝖎𝖘 𝕽𝖊𝖉𝖋𝖎𝖊𝖑𝖉 (re8)

Do you need to be in a relationship first?

For RE8 Chris? No, probably not. If you want to go, he's ready -- relationship or not.

Who initiates?

In a lot of scenarios, most likely Chris. I see it being a very, "Are you ready yet? How about now?" kind of thing (dude's got a high sex drive lmao)

What kind of foreplay?

He'd probably prefer having you give him oral. If you wanted something too, though, he'd be willing to do it -- fingering, oral, etc.

Not too into kissing -- he'd rather make eye contact with you while playing with you or touching you in general

I don't think he'd make a big deal out of it if you wanted to do kinkier stuff for your first time. He'd likely go along with it, thinking that since it's your first time, and you asked, it'd be fine (he'd also probably be impressed that you wanted to ramp it up lol)

How long does it last?

An average amount of time. Not too long, not too short.

Same goes for how long he lasts during penetration. He doesn't seem like he would try to hold his orgasm back, so when it comes, it comes. Although, again, it wouldn't be quick, either

Is it good?

Yeah, it's not bad. If you're looking for someone to be a little more rough with you for your first time (not recommended LOL) then Chris is your guy

Overall, it's a solid 6 or 7/10. Very average sex -- and if you do it again in the future, it's going to be fairly the same. Little to no special treatment for your first time :p

𝕰𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖓 𝖂𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖘 (re7, re8)

Do you need to be in a relationship first?

Yep -- partially because Ethan views first times as special, but also because he isn't the type to sleep around. He'd require a relationship first for both your and his sake

Who initiates?

Ethan, and it's planned. I doubt he'd spring it on you, either -- the two of you would talk it out first, plan a date beforehand, and then after the date...well, you know (yes, I would like to preorder one sex please!)

What kind of foreplay?

Very romantic, sensual foreplay. Kissing, soft touching, etc.

I feel like he'd be open to the basics -- oral for either person (although he'd ensure you it's about you and he doesn't need it), fingering, etc.

How long does it last?

Anywhere from a normal amount of time to slightly more than what's to be expected. I feel like he would really take his time with foreplay, as well as go slow during penetration

Is it good?

Yes! If you're a romantic at heart, Ethan's going to give you the best first time -- he's going to make sure he does everything right

Overall, probably an 8 or 9/10. This dude's got it DOWN for deflowering mfs

𝕷𝖊𝖔𝖓 𝕾. 𝕶𝖊𝖓𝖓𝖊𝖉𝖞 (re2r)

Do you need to be in a relationship first?

...maybe. I'm gonna say yeah, just because I feel like he'd be a virgin at this point of time too, LOL. He seems like he'd value romantics and wouldn't really sleep around outside of a relationship unless he had very strong feelings for you

Who initiates?

If you're in a relationship and it's been a decent amount of time since you started dating, probably him. He'd ask you about it and then...yeah.

However, if you're not in a relationship (and he likes you a lot), or you just recently started dating, it'll have to be you who initiates. He's a little reserved, so in either of these scenarios, he won't be the one to ask first

What kind of foreplay?

Lots of kissing, gentle touching, neck kissing

Would be fine with oral and fingering on either sides. Out of all the options, though, his preferred pick would be going down on you. Not just for you, but also because he seems like the kind of guy who gets off by seeing his partner get off

How long does it last?

...oh brother. Anywhere from short to long

Long because it'd probably take the two of you a while to figure out wtf you were both doing...

...and short because that man probably is not going to last long penetration-wise (LMAO im so sorry)

He'd offer to go another round to make up for it though??? Dw, one way or another, he'd make sure you still got off

Is it good?

...it would GET good. But at the beginning? It's gonna be awkward and clumsy (don't worry, he's a fast learner -- in fact, it likely wouldn't take long in your relationship for him to get the hang of it)

Overall...I'm going to have to give the man a 6/10. I'M SO SORRY. He gets an A for effort, but buddy 'ol pal, that man is not gonna know how to wield the friend in his pants right off the bat !!!

For the official and original Kinktober 23 prompts, check here. Credits to @kinktober2023 for the ideas!

[viennacherries]

Can I request headcanons for Haarlep, Dammon, Rolan, and Zevlor react to shy gn crush confessing their love?

thank you for the request!! this was cute and fun to do. did a little backstory for all of them cos how could i not <3

SFW

~~~

HAARLEP

Haarlep had not expected that he would actually come to care about them. At all.

The shy ones are his favourite to toy with, after all. They blush the prettiest from his teasing.

So imagine his shock, when he realised he actually enjoyed having them around.

Imagine his further shock when he realised he actually had feelings for them.

Disgusting! Incubi don't develop feelings! The very notion is absurd! And yet...

And then one day he's sitting with them and they seem quieter than normal. It's weird.

"What's wrong, little one? Has something happened?"

When they finally get the words out, Haarlep can't help but bark out a laugh. A little, quiet thing like them? Loves him? It's all rather adorable.

He'd hold them close. He's not going to tell them he loves them too (maybe one day), for now he just comforts them. Tells them how brave they are for telling him, and how he'll keep them safe.

They never have to do anything that makes them anxious again. Like, ever. He teases them for it, gets that delicious blush on their face, but he spoils them completely. His little love.

DAMMON

Dammon is a softie, and the minute he sees them from across the grove, teaching the tiefling children how to hold a sword, he is absolutely smitten with them.

When he thanks them for saving the grove he tells them that they're very brave. They go bright crimson and he's like "oh shit they're so cute fuck."

He gives them all the best deals on his merchandise, buys all of their random trinkets for much more gold than they're worth. It gets to a point where they're both blushing at each-other every time they interact.

When they confess their feelings, Dammon can't help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the both of them dancing around it for so long. It's so blatantly obvious to everyone else who sees them.

They think that's him rejecting him, start apologising and stuttering and he doesn't know what else to do except grab them and pull them into a quick chaste kiss.

"I love you too. How could I not? You're perfect."

They need a little reassurance, but he just holds them to his chest and whispers sweet things into their ears.

He gives them all the finest pieces of armour and weaponry he makes. He wants to keep them safe forever and this is the best way he knows how.

ROLAN

Rolan spends most of the time he knows them convincing himself that he doesn't have feelings for them.

Psh! He's far too busy for that! He's training to be an archmage, you know.

Cal and Lia tease him constantly though, because every time they're around his tail flaps around excitedly no matter how hard he tries to still it. They're completely clueless to his affections for them, of course.

The only ones who don't know they both have feelings for each-other are them. Everyone else has placed bets on who says it first. Most bets are on Rolan, because they're sure he'll blurt it out by accident while trying to insult the object of his affections.

Eventually they work up the courage. They come to find him while he's practicing his spells.

"What do you want?"

They stutter their way through their admission, absolutely sure they're about to be rejected, and when they finish he just stands there gawking at them. When they turn to leave, Rolan grabs their hand, goes bright red realising he's holding them.

"I... Well... I share your affections..." He's literally never sounded so awkward in his life.

The smile that breaks out on their face is absolutely breathtaking, and Rolan decides then and there that he's going to find a way to wow them when he confesses how deeply he cherishes them.

Perhaps a magic show? They seemed to like his last one...

ZEVLOR

Zevlor is incredibly interested in them from the beginning.

It only develops into him having feelings for them after they save the grove.

He sees how hard they worked to protect everyone, especially his people. A group they owe absolutely nothing to, and barely know.

The poor paladin didn't have a chance. Especially when he saw them at the tiefling party accepting everyone's praises with flushed cheeks and embarrassed smiles. When it's his turn, he presses a soft respectful kiss to the back of their hand and thanks them profusely. They go bright crimson and excuse themselves rapidly.

Zevlor is a gentleman. He finds them the next morning and invites them for a drink in Baldur's Gate. He wants to take them out for a meal, wine and dine them.

Both are halfway through a pint when they accidentally blurt out to him that they admire him. They look incredibly embarrassed.

It takes a few more dates, a few brushes of hands and Zevlor offering his jacket to them. But eventually they tell him that they think they've fallen in love with him. They stutter through their admission and avoid his gaze, face bright pink.

He takes their hand, places another gentle respectful kiss to the back of it.

"My dear. I am enamoured with you entirely. My heart is yours."

It's sweet, and romantic. They blush and lean up onto their tiptoes to kiss his cheek. He goes red in turn and they both chuckle together.

He enjoys his retirement very much with them at his side.

[dragondream-ing]

Anyone with a modicum of reading comprehension knows GRRM’s message in F&B is, in large part, that misogyny = bad. It may sound obvious but it is actually crucial to make this point out loud, in fact louder than the naysayers. The shitshow gave cover to a bunch of losers who vocally and unapologetically spew their misogyny. They’re out here claiming that reinforcing and supporting sexist tropes is subverting them.

Show TG “arguments” summarized:

Alicent: pure, behaved as expected, duty and sacrifice, muh tradition

Rhaenyra: wh0re, should’ve r*ped her gay husband for pure-blooded legitimate children, used her vagina wrong, didn’t know her place

Not to mention they minimize book Alicent to an evil stepmother—another sexist af trope— because she was ambitious and ruthless. She was a schemer like Tywin and Roose and so many men in F&B and ASOIAF who are never described as one-dimensional. I’m sorry, a female character isn’t one-dimensional just because you can’t handle a woman that betrays and schemes and does evil. If you think making antagonistic women more moral and palatable is an improvement, I have news for you—that’s misogynistic af.

On top of that, we’ve all seen the vile things they say about Rhaenyra. They wish she died in childbirth, they call her fat and ugly, they relish the thought of her being subjected to intimate partner violence a la the shitshow, they salivate over the fact that her brother k!lls her because she dared to reject the notion that women can’t inherit.

It is hatred of women that do not perfectly conform in its baldest, most gleeful form, and these types think they should be safe from criticism because they’re aiming this loathing at fictional characters. Rhaenyra wasn’t even remotely a feminist, and in fact “conformed” in many ways, but the little bit she didn’t conform—that she had the audacity to believe she could be traditionally feminine and a mother and a lover and still be Queen in her own right—is enough for these people to wish death and abuse upon her. Because she’s not their perfect representation of a meek and dutiful woman, she deserves scorn, hatred, and violence. This is a sickness.

This level of hatred and the specifically gendered attacks don’t come from nowhere. Some people may be TG because they think the actors playing Aegon and Aemond are hot, or they aren’t doing anything more than consuming fast-food media, but there are enough people out there with hearts full of hatred for women and it shows. Then they come into the fandom and insist loud and proud that their vile interpretation is canon.

Like sweetie, you wouldn’t know canon if it smacked you upside the head, you’re just grasping so you can cover for the fact that you’re a misogynist. But we see you.

And yes, this was inspired by me seeing a thread of incredibly gross and sexist takes on Twitter.

[sebsxphia]

Preacher!Rhett first encounter…he tells you how to touch yourself through the confessional booth.. and definitely peeks through the crack to watch you.

ptolemaea. | god knows i tried.

preacher!rhett abbott x reader.

￫ description: you find yourself in a confessional booth with preacher rhett abbott as he guides you on the righteous path.

￫ word count: 2.8K.

￫ c/w: heavy and dark religious themes, dark themes, fingering (f!receiving), handjobs (m!receiving), mutual masturbation, masturbation (f!), edging, voyerism, corruption and innocence kink, daddy kink, cnc and inappropriate use of confessional booths.

￫ a/n: the first chapter to this series! although as some of you know, this has not been posted in chronological order. however if you’re reading in order, hello! thank you @canarysposts, @castiel-barnes and anon for letting me use your wonderful asks to fuel these sinful thots! and thank you again to @canarysposts for the incredible idea of ‘god knows i tried’ by ldr, which this fic is based off! this is part of ‘ptolemaea. | the verses.’ my main masterlist can be read here! 💌

| next chapter |

His hands were the first thing you noticed. You could run your eyes up and down the numerous veins that protruded on his hands and then ran naturally up to his large forearm. His fingers were slender, but his knuckles and fingertips looked worn, as if they had worked tirelessly day and night. You wondered for a split second if they would feel rough on your far softer skin.

Mentally you kicked yourself for letting your mind wonder to such a sinful place and you re-directed your attention to elsewhere on his tall frame. He had ditched the notion of traditional clothes and wore a plain, soft cotton t-shirt. The sleeves hugged around his biceps perfectly and if he moved in a particular way, you could see his torso under his arms stretch under the fabric.

The jeans, similar to his hands, were worn out. He still managed to uphold a presentable appearance, but right in between his thighs you could see the denim fading. It was as if something or someone, had rubbed away at it mercilessly.

His hair was always tucked perfectly behind his ears, but it was when he squatted down to greet one of the smaller children that attended your Church, that a strand fell out and licked against his forehead. That’s when you thought he looked most beautiful. A gift from God himself. He would be quick to tuck it back, again with those calloused hands of his. The hair that ran along his arms and hands matched the same on his head, although it was slightly lighter and sun kissed.

Before you could register it, said hands reached out to yours and took it as he made his way down the line.

“Father Abbott.” You acknowledged him quickly, as he now stood in front of you and shook your hand. He was gentler with you than the others and his touch lingered as he shook your hand.

“Oh, y’ know to call me Rhett. Y’ come here so often to help, I’d be hurt if we weren’t on a far more personal basis now.”

At Rhett’s words, you thought how could you be so foolish. He was right. Personal basis. Yes. We know each other on a personal basis.

Rhett leaned in closer to you to confess a secret that only the both of you were privy to, “Don’t tell the Youth Pastors who come ‘ere to help, but you’re my favorite.”

The closer proximity to Rhett made your breath hitch suddenly in your throat. You swallowed quick at his words to try and gather some salvia in your now parched throat.

You could smell his aftershave, thick with sandalwood, and notice all the little details on his face. At his confession, his face contorted into a smile you would only ever deem as sly. Small cuts and grazes that were fading in the crease of his eyes and above his lips as he smiled could be seen. There was stubble threatening to peak through along his jaw and you found yourself wondering again, what it would feel like on your soft flesh.

You kicked yourself again and replied sweetly, “thank you, Rhett. I’m honored to hear that.”

You mirrored his smile to show you were grateful, although it wasn’t as sly as Rhett wore. He stayed close in your presence for a handful more seconds and held your gaze, but to you it felt like hours. Rhett had this intoxicating way of drawing you in for prolonged periods of time, especially at his sermons.

Rhett parted his lips to speak and his tongue dipped out to wet his bottom lip. There was something on the tip of his tongue. Something he wanted to get out and ask you, but he pulled back completely as Rhett remembered he was in his Church and speaking to a flurry of civilians after his Sunday sermon.

“Thank you for coming today.”

“Thank you, Rhett. It was a lovely sermon.”

Was it on purpose that you added a flirtatious tone to his name? You weren’t sure. But did you notice how Rhett cocked his head and his teeth grazed over his bottom lip at his name being spoken by you?

You were never so sure of anything in your life.

For the next two hours, you spent it offering your help with the teas and coffees that were being handed out after. You insisted that you would finish everything up and as always, you were first in and last out. But more so you needed this time to scratch the itch that had creeped its way down your spine since Rhett shook your hand.

Everyone had gone home and the Church was empty. In a flurry, you ran to the bathrooms, slammed the cubicle door shut, hitched the skirt of your dress up and over your thighs and dipped your fingers into your underwear. You let out a moan that was mixed with relief as you finally grazed over your aching clit. In turn you let out a shaky breath that you didn’t know you had been holding in for so long. And with that, came his name.

“F— Fuck, Rhett…”

Your fingers came to a sharp stop as you heard a creak from outside your cubicle, but you reminded yourself this Church was old. You heard it creak and groan many a times, and your clit was throbbing underneath your fingertips so you threw caution to the wind and continued with your movements, letting out more sweet whines and his name over and over, like a prayer.

“Rhett, Rhett, Rhett…”

It was Monday morning when you awoke, the day after you had let your deepest and most sinful thought possess your body and soul. You peeled back your lace crocheted curtains and looked out at the morning sunrise.

A pallet of reds, blues and yellows streaked over the sky. When they mixed together in the middle, it reminded you of the many drinks of tequila you had sometime ago in college. When you would put on Hotel California and dance around, alone in your dorm. It was insane to you that you didn’t realise how free you felt.

Getting out of Wabang was a blessing in disguise that you never truly appreciated until you had to come back home. It was an old wives tale that the kids of Wabang would leave and come back in five years time. You always told yourself that would never be you, but yet here you were. Waking up in your childhood bedroom with fading posters, a cross nailed to your wall that still had the wallpaper in perfect colour behind it, bedsheets that were scratchy and most importantly, returning back to your faith as instructed to by your Mother and Father.

It was a constant battle between yourself that left you tossing and turning most nights. Was what you were doing the right thing? Did you want to return back to your faith? You had shunned it for so long and you begrudgingly returned to please your parents, but now, you had a reason that felt far more personal to you.

“Preacher Abbott.”

“Please, Rhett.” Rhett corrected you through the wall of the confessional booth.

Since the morning, your mind hadn’t stopped racing with thoughts of your return home and your actions of yesterday in the bathroom cubicle, and so you came back to the place where you could feel some sense of control. When you were sat in the confessional booth, you couldn’t see anyone and figuratively speaking, nobody knew your name.

Rhett spoke up again with his voice hushed and contained within these Holy walls, “Tell me, what brings y’ here?”

You breathed in and let the air fill your lungs before you confessed. Your fingers twitched together and jabbed at the corners of your fingernails. It was to distract yourself from the sins that you were about to admit, to the man that had been at the forefront of your mind for weeks on end.

“I— I feel lost, Rhett. Comin’ back here after being away for s’ long—”

“College, wasn’t it?”

It made your heart thrum in your chest that Rhett remembered such a detail.

“Yes. I borrowed everythin’ I could from my parents to live that life. I cried ‘nd begged them on my hands and knees—”

You heard Rhett shift in his seat at your words.

“—not to make me come back. God knows, I was livin’ out there ‘nd God knows I died comin’ back here. I’ve got nothin’ much to live for here. God knows I’ve tried to make it work.”

You let out a small, yet defeated sigh after you had confessed. But Rhett didn’t buy it. He clicked his tongue in turn and pushed you for more.

“There must be somethin’, otherwise y’ would’ve left by now. Somethin’ is makin’ you stay.”

You heard Rhett pause and clear his throat on the other side.

“Perhaps, somethin’, sinful?”

You could feel the memory of yesterday punch through your gut and you stopped breathing altogether. You held your breath tightly in your throat and scrunched your hands together within the material of your sundress. Your heart was beating hard in your chest, so hard you felt like it could fall from your ribs.

The thought of Rhett hearing, let alone seeing you, in the bathroom cubicle made something in your stomach flip. It aroused you more than you cared to admit.

“You’re a sinful little one, aren’t you, my sweet Lamb.”

Rhett broke the heavy tension first with his voice an octave lower than before and his Southern drawl coming through.

“Y’ don’t have to say anythin’. Y’ don’t have to fear me. Let there be light and draw t’ me ‘nd into my arms. I can keep y’ safe, I can make you a blessed Daughter of Abbott.”

Your breathing came out in stuttered waves and your eyes fluttered shut at Rhett’s guiding words. For the first time since you’d come home, you had a clear pathway ahead of you. It was running straight into the garden of Eden, with Rhett there to keep you safe.

“Yes, Father.”

Those words slipped from your trembling lips naturally and you had never felt so sure in your life. You felt your life light up and you were bound eternally to the Holy man on the other side of the wall.

“This will prove y’ devotion to me, my sweet Lamb. Touch yourself for me.”

There was no hesitation in both Rhett’s instructions and in your reaction. You knew then and there whatever Preacher Abbott proposed was for the good of God and you would obey. Neither of you would ever waver.

You shuffled back against the hard wood wall, as far as you could to allow your leg to come up and prop against the seat. Instinctively, you angled yourself towards the wall that was separating you both and you spread your thighs. Even through the wooden pattern on the divider, you could see Rhett shift in his seat and his heavy shadow of his face cover all light. The only light you saw was the glint of his eyes through the cracks, watching you like a lamb at the slaughter.

Although your hand was shaking as it ran down the curve of your thigh, as soon as it dipped under your underwear and you pressed your fingertip to your clit, the shaking ceased and you let out a soft moan. You ran calculated circles around your clit before dipping it in between your folds to gather your arousal and spread it around the rest of your cunt. When you dipped down and felt how wet you were already, you let out another small moan.

“Good girl. Pull it back f’ me, I want to see.” He practically purred.

Your other hand reached down and pulled your damp underwear to the side to expose your weeping cunt completely to Rhett. You heard him let out a deep and guttural groan, followed by the clinking of metal and a ruffle of material on his side of the confessional booth.

“Are y’ wet enough?”

“Yes, Father.”

“Good. I want y’ to push two fingers in, as far as they’ll go.”

You nodded and slipped your middle and ring finger past your lips and deep into your cunt. You whined out in response to your own touch and it was louder this time. The feeling of your two fingers moving along your walls, angling upwards to push against your sweet spot was heavenly. Knowing you were performing this for the good of God and for your Preacher, only made you buck your hips upwards to chase your own fingers.

“Atta’ girl. Don’t forget y’ sweet clit, my Lamb.”

You choked out a, “yes” at Rhett’s instruction and managed to move a pad of your finger around it. Your fingers moved in and out of yourself in rhythmic movements and curled perfectly. You could feel yourself getting closer to the edge with every swipe of your swollen clit and guiding instruction from Rhett on the other side of the wall. Every so often you picked up low grunts from him and the sound of skin slapping against one another.

Your chest was heaving and flushed red as a result. A string of continual moans left your lips. The ache was growing as you moved the pad of your finger in figures of eight over your clit, and in unison grazed over the sweet spot inside of you. You were going to spill over anytime soon.

“Father, Father, Father!” The plea was drawn from your hoarse throat. You were begging Rhett for something, but you didn’t quite know what yet.

You kept yourself teetering on the edge and awaiting his instruction for whatever he wanted to happen next. You were completely drawn to him and he had you like a puppet on strings.

Rhett was heavy in his own breathing and you heard him grunt the final words that you were waiting for.

“That’s it, good girl. Come f’ me, fuck— Come f’ me, m’love.”

At his final guidance, you swiped your finger twice more over your clit and it was all you needed to feel your orgasm wash over you in a warm glow. A sweet sounding moan tore from your throat and a name you had never uttered before.

“Shit, Daddy!”

Your hips bucked up into your own palm and your bore down onto the heel of your hand and rubbed your clit feverishly on your flesh as you rode out the feeling. Your eyebrows were knitted tightly together and your jaw was completely slack. As you hurtled through the euphoric feeling, you had closed your eyes to swim in it completely, but when you opened them again the heavy shadow of Rhett wasn’t next to you anymore.

Your head flicked to the right when the door to your side of the confessional booth was thrown open and Rhett stood in the doorway. The sight of his own cock heavy in his hands, red and aching, made you mewl in response and you turned your bare and slick cunt towards him.

In one stride, Rhett had crossed the threshold into the confessional booth with you. His hand was stretched upwards and planted firmly above you and caged you in completely. His other hand was jerking at his cock over your cunt and his eyes were fixated on the precious sight before him. Rhett’s jaw was set firm, with his own eyebrows mirroring yours and knitted tightly together in concentration. Strands of his hair had fallen to lick at his forehead that had a light sheen of sweat coating his flesh.

Rhett let out a deep groan as he fisted his aching cock twice more, “F— Fuck.”

At his strained words, his release fell onto your cunt and dripped down and into your underwear. He ran his hand up and over his length a couple more times to let the last of his hot cum fall from his tip.

Your breathing matched up with one another’s as you both came down from your own highs. Rhett released his braced hand from against the wall and brought it down to cradle at your flushed cheek. His face had relaxed completely as he bathed in his own afterglow. All he wore was a soft smile.

“Keep my spend in y’ underwear. It’s the seal from God to finalize you as a Daughter of Abbott.”

“Yes, Father.”

Rhett cocked his head and his eyes narrowed ever so slightly, as if he was scolding a child.

“Sorry. Yes, Daddy.”

You corrected yourself instantly and shook your head in response to making such a foolish mistake.

“Better, my sweet Lamb.” Rhett ran his thumb over the baby hairs that lay on your cheek in soothing motions.

Finally, you could feel those calloused fingers on your soft flesh in ways you had only dreamed of. Your heart lurched at his touch and at his final words.

“You’re bound to me forever now.”

His words were sticky honey and you’d fallen right into his guiding embrace. A lost little lamb who had finally found their shepherd.

And this was only the beginning. You were about to travel far out West with your Preacher.

taglist: @tallrock35 @currentlybradshaw @unmistakablyunknown @beachbabey @iloveprettyboysblog @angelic-dreams13 @hangmanapologist

[honimello]

all papas general headcanons

basically just headcanons i have about their past, childhood, and personalities! and some other stuff like physical description and personal experiences.

—

a/n: these honestly probably might not fit the canon like at all or what some of you might head canon but that’s okay cus i’m just letting my brainrot fester at this point. i left their relationships open ended so there would be imagination room for like an x reader thing lol. also i picked their birth dates based on vibes alone and i know very little about the zodiac signs i just thought it would be fun lol

warnings: angst, vaguely implied abuse, poor childhoods, character death, mentions of sex and sexual orientations, (nihil fucking sucks and sister imperator kinda does too), (also all papas are alive), vague mention of eating issues, mentions of wanting children, mentions of marriage, one nsfw bullet point for each so 18+ MDNI!! also not proofread

primo: 68, born september 14th, 1955 virgo

5’10, around 140ish pounds, blonde with shaved hair, but used to have long hair that he would braid and came down to below his lower back. speaking of his back, he has a hard time standing up straight now so he appears shorter than he is.

his mother was a random woman from a bar, nihil only found out about her pregnancy until she was 7 months pregnant. sister imperator was rightfully very angry finding out about this, but she had her suspicions of his promiscuity. she often took out her anger on primo, especially when he became papa and she gave him more work than he probably should’ve been doing. although, she did slightly lessen up on him around the time when he had taken in copia.

he’s actually quite sad he never really got to meet his mother, but he didn’t have much time to think about it once his brothers started coming along. he stepped up more often than not in taking care of them, he was more of a father (and a mother honestly) than nihil would ever be. and sister never really had any interest in interacting with him or his brothers, except for copia.

speaking of copia, primo found out about him when copia was around 11-12 and he took him in quite fast. it only took one look at that little boy for primo to know it was his brother. when he was younger he used to get a little jealous that sister imperator was so invested in copia’s wellbeing and upbringing given that she had never been a mother to him or his other brothers but primo eventually just found himself feeling grateful copia had a mother, even if she wasn’t a very good one.

when primo became papa he got rid of the prime mover position, seeing how it destroyed sister and nihils marriage as well as his brothers childhoods made him incredibly angry. he also didn’t care for the connotation that women are made to have children and carry on the bloodline only. he’s a romantic (and a feminist), and that notion always made him nauseous.

secondo visits primo the most out of all his brothers, copia often visits too but doesn’t have much time. terzo only really visits when he is having some sort of emotional or personal dilemma that he cant figure out on his own. primo doesn’t mind, he’s willing to help his brothers and see them whenever he can. though in his old age he does get quite lonely and wishes they could make more time for him, but he doesn’t hold it against them.

primo finds himself wanting children now that he’s older, even if he might not be able to bare his own anymore he often entertains the idea of adopting one of the orphans at the ministry. he wishes he had someone by his side as well, and while his random sexual encounters with few siblings are enjoyable, he longs for a more steady companionship.

it’s harder for him to get erections now but still enjoys having sex, even if he doesn’t always come. is very good at oral and fingering and definitely loves to spoil his partner. will probably cry happy tears if someone sucked him off even if he couldn’t get hard all the way, he still enjoys it. can still fuck hard but will probably be very sore afterwards. pls give the old guy a nice warm bath after and maybe a kiss on his wittle head.

secondo: 57, born august 18th, 1966 leo

6’2, around 180ish pounds, brunette but has shaved his head since he was 20, huge resting bitchface even when he was a baby, muscular but has put on some pudge since becoming papa.

his mother was the first prime mover in around 100 years, she was a sibling of sin who nihil had a passing attraction towards and decided to torture sister imperator by naming her prime mover. she died giving birth to secondo. secondo blames himself, and tends to despise himself because of this.

in his teenage years he often spent sleepless nights crying for her, how much he wished he could’ve met her or at least seen her as there were no pictures of her. he wondered if she would love him, be proud of him, or fight to be his mother like terzo’s mother did. or if she would leave and never come back like primo’s. now, in his older age he has come to reconcile with the fact that he will never know. but even though he never got to know her, he still misses her dearly.

after secondo loses his papacy, he throws himself into ministry work. he works long hours, well into the night and spilling over into the weekends. he’s an archivist and restoration expert, working on artifacts important to the church. he feels like this is the only way he will not go insane. he loves terzo but he does not believe him to be ready or fit to be papa when it comes terzo’s time. and he is partially right, as terzo definitely lets the power go to his head but over time he becomes more in control. secondo finds himself feeling sorry for his little brother when terzo loses his papacy, it was wrong of sister imperator to take it away from him like that and secondo hates to see what losing the limelight has done to his brother.

secondo is known around the ministry for his intimidating visage and aura, as well as his wrath. but what people don’t pay attention to, is just how often he bites his words. he has worked very hard to keep his anger at bay, even going to therapy to find more healthy ways to cope with his trauma and rage. in fact, he does his best to be polite and kind to everyone in the ministry. but his kind is different than others kind, he comes off as cold and calculating. his emotional range is very limited and he finds himself struggling to open up to anyone. the only person he’s ever opened up to was primo, and even then it isn’t really opening up if his brother can just read him like a book. secondo often doesn’t have to say much for primo to understand what he’s going through. primo helps him through it regardless, as he’s always done since secondo was a baby.

secondo isn’t sure if he would want kids of his own, but he does love children very much and is very good with them. he often volunteers to run events for the orphans at the ministry.

he would like to fall in love but thinks he is much too old and not nearly attractive enough to find a long term partner. has flings here and there with some siblings of sin but they aren’t very serious. he isn’t sure if he’s really quite ready to give up the party life yet no matter how much his aching bones say otherwise.

does frequent bars and clubs to feel like he’s still a part of the scene after losing papacy, but it doesn’t quite feel the same and most nights he leaves drunk, angry and alone. the few nights when he finds company are not as fulfilling as he hopes they would be, and it isn’t the other persons fault it’s his. he feels so melancholy now it’s hard to focus on simple pleasures like sex, especially when he hardly has the time with how hard he works. he often lays away most nights wishing he could’ve done better as papa, even though he knows people love him and respect him he still feels like he never quite did enough. he feels like he isn’t enough.

loves sex, and can get quite rough but is very, very good at aftercare. definitely not picky about sexual partners but tends to prefer people who are shy cus he enjoys bringing them out of their shells and getting them to snap at him. secretly wants to be fucked and dominated.

terzo: 54, born june 12th, 1969 gemini

5’3, around 120ish pounds, black hair like nihil and wishes he looked more like his mother who was a redhead, definitely spot treats grey hairs, hates the idea of getting old and is very insecure about having wrinkles, is quite small but still a little chubby, though he lost lots of weight since losing papacy. might be bigender or genderfluid but is afraid to really think about it too hard.

his mother was also a prime mover, but she fought to be in his life even as sister imperator tried to push her out. she was a very loving mother who did everything she could to teach him to be a good man, to be nothing like his father who she had come to despise. she taught him many things, she taught him how to dance, to draw and to cook. he loved her very, very much and it tore him up when she passed. he was 14 years old, and that’s when he decided to put up a façade. he did not want to be vulnerable anymore, he didn’t want to have to be sad or scared at least not where anyone could see him.

primo often held him in his bed when he would cry about losing his mother, he had nightmares for years. he vowed to himself to not let himself ever be so vulnerable in front of any one again. to this day thinking about her kills him little by little, though he is much better at expressing his feelings.

his flirtatious and playful persona is something he really relies on in his older age, he thinks it’s all he’s really good for anymore. a show and a good lay. and when he loses his papacy he absolutely crumbles. the persona completely falls away and he hides himself in his quarters most days. he loses weight and wallows, he becomes enraged by fate but he finds he could never really be mad at copia for taking over, it’s not his fault anyways.

in his teenage years he was quite promiscuous and took on many lovers, and while he still has casual flings with some siblings of sin, he never lets partners overlap anymore. he’s a gentle soul at heart and he learned that very fast, he can’t stand seeing someone upset, even if he’s only attracted to them in a more primal way it would kill him to see someone upset because of him.

i believe he is very loyal and if he were to get into a relationship with someone, even if they didn’t state that they were exclusive, he would still ere on the side of caution and not have sex with anyone else. i think if he were in love he would be hopelessly devoted, he’s more sensitive than he tends to let on and cheating is not something he would let himself do. maybe when he was young, he might’ve slipped up somehow, but not now. he’s much too intelligent and much too mature, he’s grown and he knows how to control himself now.

and while he does have quite a lot of sex, i think the sheer abundance of partners has been greatly exaggerated through false rumors and gossip. people tend to lie about having slept with him just for the five seconds of fame it brings them, and that often causes problems with people thinking he has cheated on many people.

is terrified of marriage but longs for it desperately, he wants to feel like someone wants him for him and not because he is/was papa. he’s not sure if he wants kids, he’s horribly afraid of being a bad father.

is horrified of being like nihil in any way, and nearly throws up when someone mentions that he has the most resemblance to nihil out of all his brothers.

is a huge giver sexually, could literally come from just watching someone else come. loves to overstimulate and go above and beyond. doesn’t really require someone to reciprocate and take care of him as well but it is deeply appreciated as he can also be quite the pillow princess.

copia: 52, born october 15th, 1971 libra

5’8, around 130ish pounds, light brunette hair that is going grey at the sides, is very petite but with a softness to him especially around his belly, hips, and thighs, he has light freckles all over his body,

he was an accident, sister imperator never meant to get pregnant but she had planned to tell nihil about the baby until she had caught him with yet another sibling of sin. she decided it would be better for copia to grow up as an orphan in the church, and to be raised by her secretly. copia didn’t even find out she was his mother til primo had found him and taken him in at age 11. sister often pushes copia to work harder, her hopes for him to become papa one day slowly begin to become his hopes as well. and it’s hard for him to say if he really wants the papacy or if he just wants her to be proud of him.

he grew up very lonely and outcast, the other orphans in the ministry thought him strange and unappealing. he had been told from a young age that he was ugly and weird. now that he’s older, he’s since found out that he’s autistic, but he knows that’s not the entire reason they didn’t like him. he thinks maybe he really is just strange and ugly. and as a young boy, when he’d found a rat scavenging for food outside of the ministry, he thought to himself he’d finally found a friend who was like him. unloveable and unwanted. misunderstood.

growing up he never understood the importance put on sex and romance, it isn’t until he’s older that he realizes that he’s demisexual and demiromantic, but it doesn’t really phase him. he never really cared about those things, he doesn’t care that he’s old now and hasn’t had sex, it’s not something he would want unless he really loved someone and had a deeper connection to than just passing lust. although, at night he often dreams of meeting someone he could have a connection with, and those nights are the only ones he really partakes in lust alone in his bed. dreaming of something that could be, but in his mind, is more likely to be just a dream.

when he becomes papa he is terrified, not only of the immense pressure on him to be the best he can be and do good for the church but also of losing himself. yes, he loves the new attention this is giving him and yes, he loves feeling important now. but something just doesn’t sit right in his stomach. again, he’s not sure if he really wanted to be papa anyway or if he just wanted to complete a goal that was thrust upon him at a young age. he tries not to let his papacy change him, and for the most part all it really changes is it brings him out of his shell a little more. he begins talking to more siblings and higher clergy members, but like always, he ends up lonely. they’re never quite interested in copia and more interested in papa, and he doesn’t understand because to him they are one in the same.

his stage presence is very different to his real presence, he likes to let out his “wild side”, as he calls it, when he’s on stage. he feels more comfortable, more free to be sexual and flirty, as well as quite commanding, when he is in front of the crowd. mostly because he knows they like him, that they’re there to see him. it gives him quite the confidence boost, in his performance and his personal life. he doesn’t get quite as depressed as often as he did as cardinal but now his depression holds much harder topics to grasp. things like his identity and where he belongs in the grand scheme of things, and if he will turn bitter like terzo when he eventually is traded in for a newer papa. he hopes not, but envy was a sin that often came easily to him.

is terrified of aging in a similar way to terzo, he feels like he is already very ugly and now that he is getting older he feels like he is becoming even more unattractive. he tends to avoid mirrors as much as possible because his reflection nauseates him, he hates his face and his body with a burning passion.

he does not indulge in the willingness of siblings like his brothers do, while his stage presence may suggest he is a sexual person (which he is honestly) he hasn’t felt any sexual attraction to any sibling of sin so far. most of which only really approach him because he is papa, and while he has no problem with guiding and helping his flock, he does have a problem with it when they ask for him to fuck them. it’s not something he wants.

is also the only papa to not participate in sexual rituals and black masses, though he does oversee them and encourage siblings of sin to participate if comfortable. he celebrates others choice to lust but doesn’t feel tempted to lust for anyone else.

when he is in a relationship with someone, and he does feel sexually attracted to them, he is incredibly eager. he has done his research i can assure you, countless videos and articles on sex and hours of “research” watching porn of the porniest variety. he gets quite horny, and before his partner he masturbated quite often, he isn’t innocent by any means. he is a virgin and is quite awkward, tends to fumble and trip over himself a lot but he isn’t subtle about wanting someone when he does want them. definitely a switch, pls someone peg this guy.

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hope you liked these!! and if u have any questions or just wanna indulge me in conversation, i would love to talk more in depth about these headcanons!!!

[wri0thesley]

Dottore being absolutely shit at courting is hilarious to me. Imagine the handmaiden assuming its all threats and actively avoids him wondering what they’ve done to upset him so greatly. Meanwhile he’s trying to turn his own blood into some sort of jewelry for them to wear (actual thing you can do btw).

The other harbingers are probably not going to see him as competition considering how poorly his affections translate to intimidation. But who’s to say he won’t use some kind of love potion or something of that sort if he becomes aware that his gifts are incredibly misinterpreted.

Also i do have a feeling that a handmaiden of the tsarsita may actually have no choice in their marriage and instead it would be decided by the tsarsita herself. As sometimes queens would arrange the marriages of their own servants/advisors. So if anything it may actually be a race to convince their boss that they deserve you as their coveted bride for their good behavior. Considering Dottore has brought back two gnosis however gives a greater incentive of a reward does it not? Signora may have been first on her list initially but well she’s dead now. It may be that she uses her little handmaiden like a literal trophy to further guarantee loyalty or motivate her harbingers.

ooh so generally in the handmaiden au the handmaiden has done something unspecifed Wrong* (they are, of course, at the tsaritsa's behest so even the smallest issue - a forgotten jewel in their finery, the wrong kind of wine brought to the tsaritsa when she asks - is a Big Deal. the handmaiden in question, though, is one of the tsaritsa's particular favourites - and so instead of being cast out, penniless and destitute, the tsaritsa decides to marry them off or give them as a gift to one of her trusted harbingers. being 'bred for service' can mean many things, and the handmaidens are coddled and ceremonial and (the harbingers especially think) perhaps a little spoilt and Up Themselves!!!!. so i LOVE the drama of the tsaritsa choosing; in the best case scenarios, handmaiden gets to choose . . . but in the worst case scenarios . . .

dottore simply thinks that an intact heart preserved in a beautiful handmade blown glass replica of the handmaiden's chest is actually very romantic. everybody else sees it as Weird And Creepy. but dottore thinks it is truly the most romantic notion he has ever had