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#this is a rare pair very very niche pairing

killadelphias · 2 months

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Yes you can make fun of me for getting excited about 7 measly kudos on a fic so far. That's 7 people who I do not know, who read my writing and liked it enough to tell me. I celebrate everything.

#also it's an au of a very niche rare pair in a dead fandom. i expected nothing. lol

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arkhammaid · 2 months

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— ˚₊‧⁺˖ DEFINITIONS OF MUSIC.

fandom. formula one

pairing. charles leclerc x professional pianist fem!reader (fc: none)

about. y/n y/l/n is one of the celebreties who has gone viral during lockdown. when she publishes her first album, she raises a few eyebrows with a featured artist

content warnings. social media au, not edited/proofread

notes. this is a very self-indulgent fic... so you all better love it or else 🫵

YOURUSERNAME AND 3 OTHERS

liked by zendaya, hanszimmer and 14'083'874 others

yourusername and 3 others we're proud to announce the album DEFINITIONS. each of the 26 original composed pieces embrace the title itself, the feeling of these words. they're defined by our language and passion, a gift from us to you.

yourusername so happy our baby is finally out, thank you adrian, charles and jamie, for this partnership. i couldn't have done this without you!

hanszimmer This is music.

charles_leclerc And it's finally here! I had so much fun working on this, thank you @/yourusername for allowing me to be part of your project🥰

jamieduffyy absolutely incredible!! stream definitions now!!!

zendaya I'm sobbing over the whole alphabeth, who would've thought... this is 🤯🤯

user holyyyyy shittttttt

user 26 SONGS??? AND MOST OF THEM ARE OVER 4 MINS LONG WE'RE GETTING SPOILED FR

haileybieber listening this on repeat and still getting shivers, this is incredible work 💗

user the butterfly effect is so real here...

⤷ user if you told me i'd follow this one tiktoker because she went viral with her piano only to become a fan of men who drive in fancy circles...

⤷ user SO I'M NOT THE ONLY ONE WHO'S NOW AN F1 FAN??

user sobbing over nepenthe on repeat

user CHARLES WITH LEMAN?? HELLO??? AND THEN ALSO PHILOCALY??? MY MAN STAND UP AND STOP WRITING LOVE LETTERS

⤷ user what.

⤷ user for the love of god, please look up what the words mean... charles really thought he was slick with this one

⤷ user oh my god.

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Y/N Y/L/N SHOCKS MUSIC WORLD WITH CLASSICAL ALBUM AND FEATURED ARTISTS! FIVE PIECES OF THE 26-PIECE ALBUM ARE IN THE INTERNATIONAL CHARTS. EVERYTHING YOU NEED TO KNOW ABOUT 'DEFINITIONS'.

From Viral TikToker to Record Holder, Y/n brings Classical Music back in Trend.

By Sara Ristan | Published February 24, 2024

If you know anything about music, you know the current trends. Pop and Rap is what the current generation likes, with a few outliners. From the very beginning, Y/n seemed to be one of them as well. Her first release, 'A Sailor's Wish', has been trending along with 'Solas', by her fellow artist Jamie Duffy for many weeks.

Her other composed pieces never hit the same numbers, that was until she released a full album. 'Definitions' has 26 original composed pieces, mixed with piano and full orchestra. It's an album full of masterpieces, fully deserving the high praise it has been receiving the past few days.

Every piece in the Album is named after a rare word, each one of them beginning with a letter of the Alphabet. Most of them were composed by Y/n herself, her signature moves regognizable, if you're familiar with her music. If you wish to read a full analysis of the whole album, click here.

Notable, besides the mindblowing compositions, are also the featured artists. We have Adrian Berenguer, Charles Leclerc and Jamie Duffy- each of them well known in their niche. What has raised eyebrows however, is that unlike Adrian and Jamie, Charles himself. He's an athlete, a Formula One driver in fact and very well known. While his fans knew about his releases, singles and even an album with Sofiane Pamart, no one was prepared for the partnership with Y/n.

Especially the titles of the pieces, two of them speaking about love, one is even titled as 'Leman', which means lover. Are these two trying to give us hints?

Beside that, five of the 26 pieces are currently in the charts, having already gathered millions of streams within days. Absolutely mindblowing!

click to read more

CHARLES_LECLERC

liked by yourusername, zendaya and 3'099'738 others

charles_leclerc P1 in Driver Championship Standings, P1 in International Charts, P1 in your heart... I love you, mon amour

yourusername ugh, ugly sobbing crying rn, no one talk to me

yourusername i love you too you sap

⤷ charles_leclerc Guilty hehe

⤷ charles_leclerc Doesn't stop me from loving you, cherié

⤷ yourusername i never told you to stop

jamieduffy fucking finally

zendaya @/tomholland2013 why don't you write you love songs for me??

⤷ tomholland2013 you're the one who sings?

user WE WON!!! Y/N NATION WE FUCKING WON

user if you squint you can see me fucking dead BECAUSE WTF IS THIS THEYRE ACTUALLY TOGETHER I CAN NOT IM DEAD OH MYGOOODDDDDD

⤷ user lmao felt

user now we know how charles even agreed to y/n asking for a collab... he has always been down bad for her

⤷ yourusername you're so right

⤷ user OH MY GOD???

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taglist. @keyz-writes , @obsidianjewel , @aimixx , @themercyverse , @lem-hhn , @lupicalbestwolf , @akiraquote , @lpap , @lilypadlover , @adorablezhui , @peqch-pie , @namgification

DO YOU WANT TO JOIN THE TAGLIST? please send a non-anon ask to be added to the taglist. taglist can be general taglist (all fandoms and all works), fandom taglist (all works within the fandom), series (all works for specific series) or nsfw taglist (all nsfw works and all fandoms).

crossed off tags mean i can't tag you!

ARKHAM MAID 2024

#f1 x reader #f1 smau #f1 imagine #f1 scenario #f1 social media au #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc smau #cl16 x reader #cl16 x you #charles leclerc x you #— ˚₊‧⁺˖ creations

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tickfleato · 2 years

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GRYPHONS!! gryphons in serpentverse are a distant relative to dragons, but are not magical creatures - the event that originally caused them to be weird bird-mammal hexapods was magical in nature, but modern gryphons are largely mundane. they fill a large range of niches and some are even domesticated! a little more description of the varieties pictured here under the cut:

River Fishergriffs are flightless gryphons which are very similar to river otters in size, shape, and niche. They’re generally good-natured, playful creatures, but can be vicious in defense of their young. They are elegant swimmers but a bit clumsy on land. They live in small family groups usually consisting of the parents and a few children - older children tend to stay with the nest and help raise the younger, with some staying with their family their entire lives and not reproducing.

Gryphlets (Cherry Gryphlet and Common Gryphlet depicted) are small, intelligent gryphons that are something like an unholy combination of a squirrel, a monkey, and a parrot. Like parrots, they are excellent at vocal mimicry, and also like parrots they make awful pets (but that doesn’t stop anyone). They are usually omnivores, but diet varies with species (the gryphlet clade is extremely diverse). Most gryphlets are social to some degree, with the biggest flocks numbering in the hundreds.

Snow-Gryphons are medium-sized, cold-adapted hunters, primarily inhabiting the south-pole continent, Ussa. They are elusive, shy animals that are a rare but lucky sight - though it’s best not to get too close. They’re about the size of a bobcat and have very sharp claws, and have been known to go after prey as big as elves! They are solitary and only meet with others of their kind to mate.

Essvai Dragons are, of course, not dragons at all but a breed of domesticated gryphon bred to resemble them. While they look imposing, they are usually docile in temperament, and like nothing more than napping by a warm fireplace or in a patch of sunlight. They were originally status symbols but over time have become somewhat more common pets, though purebred ones are still very expensive (and those from shadier breeders tend to have a myriad of health issues...)

Monkeyhawks are predatory gryphons that usually inhabit forested environments. They’re agile fliers in a pinch but are adept climbers as well, preferring only short flights to catch prey or escape danger. They are usually either solitary or a mated pair, though they don’t necessarily mate for life and don’t suffer particularly from “divorce” or death of a mate. They have a reputation for carrying off elven children, but this happens very rarely in reality - they tend to steer well clear of elven settlements.

#serpentverse #gryphons #gryphon #creature design #monsters #original shit #my art #worldbuilding

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teeny-tiny-revenge · 1 year

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We don't talk about the insane amount of chemistry Stede and Ed have enough. Like, anytime they're on screen together they just fit. Honestly that's what sold me on this ship, like, immediately. I was late to the party; I knew they were a romantic pairing when I started watching. I'm also very ace, and romance in shows often just loses me, because they like to focus on how attracted the characters are and nothing else and it makes my brain bluescreen. But this? Have you fucking seen them? From their first actual conversation in Episode 4 on, they just click. They have so much chemistry. It bowled me right the fuck over. "Oh, it's this type of relationship, one of those magical times when you meet someone and you're just on the same wavelength." Two puzzle pieces slotting right into place. From the get go, they just bounce off each other. They compliment each other just right.

I love the way they had Mary describe love to Stede at the end of the season, because, yeah, that's it, but also, that's been what they were written and acted as all the way from the beginning. Mary's speech clicks with Stede because that's exactly what his relationship with Ed was from the start. We've seen several episodes of them representing this description perfectly. They understand each other, find things about each other charming and interesting that turn other people in their acquaintance away. They enjoy a lot of the same things, yes, but they also just... enjoy things in the same manner. That's part of what I mean by they're on the same wavelength. They are delighted by Stede's model ship and his fancy fabrics and his hidden closet, and by the theatrics of a good fuckery. They have fun together, and they have fun because the other one has fun. This is a couple who genuinely enjoy each other, who can just hang out and talk for hours about inane things and weirdly specific niche interests, and that's my jam right there. You can just see them enjoying spending time together in all areas of life, and that's so rare to see?

It also makes me more optimistic for whatever will happen in season two, because yeah, things look bleak right now, and yes, they hurt each other and they'll have to heal and regrow their trust and all that, but this foundation of just being so good together, this two perfect puzzle pieces chemistry, that's still there, and they'll find that again once they move a bit past the hurt. It's very very difficult to stay mad with someone who is this much on your frequency, who finishes your thoughts and sentences and almost effortlessly just gets you.

#ofmd #ofmd meta #ed teach #stede bonnet #teeny rambles #season 2 speculation

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filurig · 12 days

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its been a while but new pareidolia creature!! ive been thinking of making these for a while. in case u don't know what an älgfrode is (a bit more of a niche nordic mythology creature), an älgfrode (or elgfróði in icelandic) was mentioned in hrólfs saga kraka, one of the old norse hero sagas. while the context for that was one specific character i just wanted to make moose people..

more info abt my creatures below the cut...

they wear more clothes than in the ref this is just to show their anatomy LOL. clothing is actually very important to them and textiles will almost always have a role in any tradition/significant social event. their textilework is very renowed and is one of the trades that cause some other vättar to want to trade with them as mentioned in the ref!

one potential reason for their high level of defensiveness is that their species suffers from a higher than average infant mortality rate - with time, this mortality rate has lowered from what it used to be, but when the species first appeared, it wasn't unusual for a mother to have to give birth to many calves before one even made it to adulthood. this rooted a deep set vigilance in them - even now that the rates have stabilised a bit. the high mortality rate was probably due to the affected "shift" gene sometimes activating improperly which could result in stillborns. with time and selective pressure new gene mutations would arise in the species that "counteracted" the instability of the first initial one and made the infant mortality decrease. it is, however, still a little higher than usual for similar species, and so it is traditionally encouraged to have many children.

gender roles for älgfroder are interesting - there is a strong sense of "equal strength", or "laorhgr" in älgfrode, which is important. while males are usually slightly larger than females, there is emphasis on the importance on a pair being able to stand their ground both physically and emotionally to the other and a relationship can only go ahead if a spar between two älgfroder is fair. this extends to an interesting dynamic that involves polyamory. älgfroder can be both monogamous and polyamorous, however polyamorous relationships often only arise when there is a big physical differential between two parties. the belief is that if one party is stronger than the other, that strength can be equalised if the other party is accompanied a second partner of similar strength - usually this happens between one strong male and two females on the smaller end. that way the resulting relationship has achieved "laorhgr". this ofc varies as everything does but ya. basically if you are a big strong älgfrode dating a small petite älgfrode it's seen as shameful and barbaric. there is also a bias to heterosexual relationships as it is seen as an important social duty to at least successfully raise one calf.

dhukohr are the more commonly occuring intersex condition in älgfrodar, but there is an equivalent to it for "males" where they fail to grow antlers and have very small dewlaps due to low testosterone levels - those are usually referred to as kvikohr. they are often recognised as their own gender respectively however there are many that identify as men/women too. some of these dhukohr/kvikohr are actually moreso trans than intersex - simply having utilized faerie dust in order to transition. this can be a bit of an ordeal though because usually this requires being administered it by a tomte which, depending on the settlment, can be a tense negotiation, although individuals usually have a less hard time with that.

älgfrodar and bäckahästar can hybridise and do sometimes produce fertile offspring! i would have to think more about this though erm. but i think it does and can happen. there is a sense of rare camraderie between the two species in many cases but especially so between älgfrodar and bäckahäst communities that choose to spend more time as their faun shift than their base shift - in fact a few of these bäckahästar choose to integrate into certain älgfrode settlements, but this is more of a rare occurance. most bäckahästar that possess "unishift" clothing have actually had them made by älgfrodar, or at least had the fabric sourced from them

#pareidolia tag #bestiary #faun #fantasy #speculative fantasy #specbio #speculative biology #speculative evolution #folklore #worldbuilding #creature lore

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megumimania · 9 months

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AOT LONDON BOY HCS PT 2

featuring: reiner, onyankopon, armin

a/n: this is part two of these hcs, part one is here! thanks for tuning in its kinda rushed my bad 😪, likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

ARMIN

-armin would be from islington or finchley maybe even south, but I don’t see him living in like bougie areas such as kensington or chelsea or like richmond

- him and eren went to the same primary and secondary together

-armin was literally his get out of jail free card because of his stellar reputation in academics

-he always gets free stuff from the corner shop or the chicken and chip shop

-doesn’t own a car, he either bikes or takes the tube because he cares about the environment and doesn’t want to add onto the extra pollution in london

-his dress sense is very casual like a t shirt, a pair of loose fitted trousers and some trainers but when he cant be bothered he’ll wear a tech fleece

-he has a very good sense of direction, like he knows the fastest routes for anything, like when eren and connie dragged him to carni (if you went this year im saur jealous 😩 but anyways) and it was time to get home armin found a quicker route that got them back pretty fast

-knows all the best secret spots in london for anything! which makes hanging out with him more fun because you experience a new part of london when you’re together

-he isnt a fan of eren’s scamming ways but when eren asks for help he always answers as long as he’s not a part of it

-london men i feel like are terrible with their feelings but armin is the exception, he would be very open with you about his feelings and such

-reads so much, you’ll catch him at hyde park or greenwich park reading till the sun sets

-he smokes cigarettes but he’s trying to cut it out for you

-his playlist would be very diverse since he’s been brought up in a multicultural area, like it would go from bashment, to rnb, drill to pop

-unlike his unserious counterparts *cough cough* eren and connie, he’s very loyal!

ONYANKOPON

-my ghanaian king, shoutout to my ghanaians!!

-he speaks twi so well that people forget he was brought up in the uk

-he would be from peckham or lewisham for suree, he’s deffo been dragged around by his mum round rye lane market on a saturday morning carrying that trolley with him

-he goes to a pentecostal church, he’s always leading youth service and helping out at church events.

-the aunties love him for this because he’s the perfect son that they don’t have and they just love him in general

-ony can cook and im being for real, so you guys never eat out unless ony wants to show you to a new niche restaurant somewhere

-he has snap but doesn’t have a bitmoji because he thinks it’s immature 😕 but eventually he caves and makes one because you ask him too

-hes always promoting his boys stuff whether that be music,

-he deffo went to an all boys secondary and then he went to a mixed sixth form after, he gives me those vibes

-he used to go to the library to link girls after school 😭 he had a big playboy phase but hes calmed down

-he used to be one of those people at stratford westfield trying to sell you magazines before you enter

-hes not stingy with his money, hes always spoiling the people he loves

-he has a bunch of caps and grills that he likes to rotate out weekly, he has great style

-he works in corporate london so its rare that you dont see him outside of a suit and tie but he always makes time for you

-ony is always holding your bag for dear life when you go to bait areas like oxford street or westfields or like the tourist spots because people be getting their shit stolen loool

-he loves late night tesco trips anything that he can do at night i.e late night walks, drives etc

-bossman is always giving him discounts on stuff because ony is loyal customer.

REINER

-look at that man and tell me he wouldnt be from essex tell me!! like thats pure dagenham material right there

-if you search up a typical person from essex, he would come up

-he probably owns those skintight chinos with those ugly polos with the church shoes

-he tries to downplay his accent a bit since sometimes its hard to understand him but when hes upset his accent comes through in full force

-always at spoons or at the club till early hours

-reiner gives me bricklayer vibes so thats what im gonna roll with

-when he comes home from work in summer hes like hot and sweaty but it makes his biceps glow so its kinda sexy idk

-has a bunch of tattoos, most of them are birthdays of family members and a picture of his grandma who passed away

-has a british bulldog called belle, the dog is fucking scary but reiner thinks the world of her and thinks she can do no wrong

-listens to mainly dnb, garage, techno

-downs pints at the pub like it’s nothing, he has a high alcohol tolerance

-proper geezer that’s all i have to say tbh!

#aot x reader #armin x reader #onyankopon x reader #attack on titan #aot fluff #aot headcanons #vina writes #aot reiner #aot x black!reader #black writblr #aot x black reader #armin attack on titan #armin arlert x reader #aot onyankopon #reiner braun #aot

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widowsofchaos · 3 months

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could you please do prompt 168 with carol x fem reader? if you’re comfortable writing that of course:)

𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐥 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐨𝐭

synopsis: Trying to find peace at your job’s gala, but a familiar haunting shadow finds you once more.

pairing: dark!Carol Danvers x brown!fem!reader

ao3 // modern au // 5k words.

warnings: dubious wlw smut (forced stimulation, vaginal fingering), stockholm syndrome, toxic established relationship, domestic violence, mention of childhood abuse.

a/n: Carol’s outfit reference. title is a reference to the song, Mary by Alex G. requested 168. “Don’t get too close to that one, she’ll singe your fingertips and have you on your knees.” from this dialogue prompt list. dog metaphors, because I must write pain. Channeled my inner amy dunne for Carol. I’m sorry that I’m just finishing this 2 years later, but I hope whoever requested this, I hope you see this! <3

“She became the parent, the lover, the friend you’ve always craved for—- and yet, here you are,”

The truth can sting, just the sharp tip of a knife, flickering at the raw flesh. Poking and prodding till there’s small plots of ichor forming.

“——broken…” Her index finger arched, halting her words, still a vivid memory, “…. but not beyond repair.”

A scoff escapes.

“What is love without hate, I guess.” Unconsciously it spewed from your lips, the vowels felt like acidic vomit. A pregnant silence arose.

That all knowing head tilt, with those observant eyes—- always earned uncomfortable tension within you.

“Love isn’t meant to be confused with hate.”

The cigarette burns slow between your clenched fingers, nursing three fingers deep. Brown liquor swishes against the carved rocks glass, its clear silver grooves twinkles under the gala’s vermilion hues.

Fragments of words compulsively knock against the walls of your brain; as you mull at the gala’s open bar. A scorned woman who just wants peace, and quiet. Lingering stains of hurt that can last a lifetime settles to silence for once in a long time.

Showered an ugly duckling with affections, and built the pillars of security. Growing up in a childhood filled with anxiety and fear of attachments, lingering stains of abuse from the very beings who birthed you into this world.

She cleaned you, bandaged the scars, and assured you that she was the only one who adored you—- persisted that she was the only one who would.

Now, fighting violently in the legal battlefield of divorce, these past weeks have been mentally exhausting —- all whilst handling the burdening responsibilities of your profession.

Your very mind and hands helped craft this sophisticated gallery.

Your boss, Mr. Laufeyson, opened a new exhibit in the National art museum—- Norse history, one of his niche fixations. A man birthed on Norwegian soil, but raised in the monarchal land of England.

An established man who often seeks to explore the rich culture of his ancestors with much sophisticated adoration, and esteem. The Norse exhibit is now the largest section of the institution, with vast collections of rare artifacts protected behind hard stainless glass.

He breathed down your neck for long weeks, you had the task of restoring each piece that had been brought in, nearly breaking your damn back from all the hovering.

A gala bustling with a sea of middle-class folk, and self-proclaimed aristocrats of New York. You sought solace at the open bar, smoking a stogie—- and slipping into the whiskey.

It wasn’t a preferred choice, but it helps give a quick kick to your nerves. Seeking solitude away from pressures to gallant with faux professionalism, and an particular noisy friend, who should be presenting the Norse gods section.

Earlier, she was pestering with a thousand questions flying by the mouth —- if you ever gave thought to rekindling with Carol.

Dissociating into a mindless static, flickering at your clear square nails, as your cigarette burns slowly. At first, the mention of this exhibit with your boss months ago sent you into a frenzy of joy, but now—- it’s a dreadful experience.

All you long for is to start your weekend, to cuddle with your daug—-

“What an incredible scent you have—-”

Oh God, no.

“—- is that Histoires de Parfums, 1969?”

Fuck.

“I haven’t been around that perfume in a long time.”

It’s as if she can smell you a mile away.

A sensual, purring voice whispers near you. A shadowing silhouette eclipses the shimmering ceiling lights from your peripheral vision.

Your lips wrinkle, restraining the foreboding tears of frustration. Tightly nodding, swallowing a sob. Your breathing becomes heavier.

A hum, “It really smells wonderful.” With precision, the shadow sits onto the empty seat beside you.

“Thank you.” A forced smile curls at your mouth.

“With that scent, I’m surprised you’re not being hounded by the men here tonight.” A subtle wordplay, are you looking for anyone tonight?

As if your mind has forgotten all the bad, and reminisces on the good, all the fun, all the beauty that once blossomed.

“It’s not men I'm looking for.” You whisper, snuffing the cigarette into a provided ash-tray. A creamy hand strokes your knuckles, and your skin shivers under your blouse.

A jolt to your groin, and your breath hitches. All she can do is just touch you, and it’s as if you can get on your knees, and forgive her for everything.

“Why?”

You can see that pearly grin, from the corner of your eye, teasing and twisting.

“They’re too easy to hunt?”

You exhale a chuckle, eyes still trained onto the glistening counter.

“They bore me.”

“So—” Her voice lulls as a moan, “—- see anyone worthwhile?” Her fingers curl around your glass, twirling it by the rim. Your lipstick stain faces her direction, and bold as always, she lifts for a sip. Connecting the lip stain to hers, her eyes never leave yours.

It’s not tacky, nor forceful. How she moves is as if it is her nature.

Your eyes gaze over your shoulder, taking a full look. Finally, to drink in the force of nature that is your estranged wife—- Carol.

Her blonde tresses cascade on her shoulders, milky breasts on display. A pristine, black dress, that cuts and splits at the chest hem, polished nails, and clean skin. Her dress halts near her knees.

“Well, I have my eye on a blonde tonight.” You say timidly. Tenderly, your eyes glance fleetingly, a quick trace over Carol’s bodice, nearly losing your composure.

A pregnant pause.

That pretty pink mouth stretches smugly, as if the cat that got the cream. The hooks caught the flesh.

“You like blondes.”

Her tone lingers as an open question, guising the truth.

“Just one in particular.”

Sinking now, the hooks are tugging.

“Really?” Carol leans, her eyes hooded. “Which one?” Pretending to scan her eyes across the ocean of people.

But your eyes remain fixated on her. As if you were a lost puppy, just gazing at its human. Lucidly, influcating between the spaces of yearning, and guilt.

How at ease Carol is, as if nothing was wrong. The charming woman, the woman you thought she was. The woman she wanted you to think she was.

“The one in the black dress.” You say softly, and defeated brown eyes.

Carol’s eyes gaze back at you from the corner of her oculus, downcasting with a mirth, humming a chuckle. “Don’t get too close to that one, she’ll singe your fingertips and have you on your knees.” She shakes her head, an enticing warning.

A dangerous but delicious fruit hanging at your reach. She wants you to take the bait, urging you to—- to get you back in her grasp, and if she does, she won’t let you go.

This game, a cat and mouse play, is all too familiar. Playing as strangers, attracted together by lust, and curiosities—- the type of curiosity to feel the other’s flesh, subtle carnality. Act out, with playful words, pretend to be different people.

It slowly suffocates you, a twang in your chest, a reminder that this isn’t normal.

She isn’t normal.

Carol can be an array of personalities, she can be the doting wife, the whore in bed, the mother—- she can be the bitch with a violent mouth. Different faces for different folk, no one knows her true self, and she’s good at it —- real good.

So, when you tried to seek help from friends, they couldn’t believe it, nor did they want to. You’re not surprised that Carol snuck into the gala—- your co-worker, Maria, who you thought was a true friend —- the matchmaker from hell, let her in, unknowingly allowing the terror onto you.

But, that’s no surprise. Maria has been Carol’s right hand since their days in the Air Force.

None of your friends believe you—- and, it’s hurtful to admit, you’re too scared to speak about all the hurt Carol made you endure over the years.

Barely spoke of the discomfort Carol used against you, and all your shared friends thought you misinterpreted. All saying that Carol is just head-strong, and that you two are perfect together.

Carol feeds the fire with a ‘She’s just going through a tough time.’

Boundaries aren’t respected, everyone trying to push you back together, inviting Carol in social events —- to the point where you didn’t go out anymore, and just drowned in work.

“I like challenges.” Carol softly leans in, her breath fans the bare skin of your shoulder, “All the more fun when I win.” Her voice drops low, to a wispy whisper.

Her body heat engulfs you, and your eyes droop with haziness for a slick second. You can’t—- not again. No matter how intoxicating she can be, how delicious, it’s not worth your peace.

You’re too drunk for this.

“This cat is too tired to entertain.”

“Who said you were the cat?” Carol’s brow arches, halting you in your step. Carol’s infliction hardens, from the corner of your oculus, you can see the clench of her jawline. That pretty mouth morphed into a restrained frown, the same one you see before a punishment.

An offense has been made.

“I didn’t realize the roles were switched.”

The mask slips.

It’s always her way, her rules. Because no matter how clever, how coy the mouse can be, the cat always wins.

“You’re getting brave on me?” Carol asks.

And now the mask has been dropped.

“I think it’s best I leave.” You quickly collect yourself, a bit wobbly from the alcohol. Leaning against the counter to regain your composure, trying to stand upright.

Not this time. You won’t fall for her charm.

Carol sucks her teeth, “You’re seriously going to leave? Aren’t you tired of this childish bullshit?” Crossing her arms against her chest, lips wrinkling into a scowl. Carol talks as if scolding a child.

Your body twists in a haste, “My bullshit?” Your teeth are gritting harshly, hissing. Angry eyes pierce over the hill of your shoulder, fingernails digging into the leather of your purse; if not the leather, her eyes preferrable.

But this is a place of work, no matter how elegant the night is, you will scream if you have to—- just to escape her. You click your tongue, shaking your head in disbelief.

“I mean I’m usually amused by your brattiness,” Carol laughs sarcastically. “But, now it’s gotten too far.” Her fingertips graze your arm, toying with you, soft and playful—— her fingers grasp your arm in a clutch, earning a whine.

Her eyes are hooded, nearly tugging you downwards. A whine bubbles at the pit of your throat, too terrified to even move.

“You have to come back home.” Carol says, a strain to be sweet, but it’s as if a monster tries to be human. “I miss you.” She purrs, but her eyes … are cold, and agitated.

You remain silent, closing your eyes shut, gliding down in your seat. “Carol… have you signed the divorce papers, yet?” Your eyes stay glued to the sticky counter.

Carol chuckles, “You’re going to try to talk business to me, and you can’t even look me in the eye?” Her baby pink polished nails thump against the bar, thump thump thump.

“I don’t want to fight anymore.”

“And neither do I.” She sips her drink, smirking into the cup, “But it seems my wife likes to play games.” So light, so sarcastic, chastising you as if this was a running joke on your end.

“Carol, for fucks sake.” You pinch the bridge of your nose, “You made me go crazy.” You bite on those words, full teeth. Fingers curling into makeshift claws, vowels spilling as acidic vomit.

“Controlled me, like I was your puppet.” Your fingers curl and slither in gesture. “Manipulated me against the world, against our friends.” Your mouth opened again, the words weighing heavy against your mouth, but a hum interrupted.

“Look up at me when you talk.” Carol says, your eyes peer up through your lashes, owlishly. “If you’re going to lie, you might as well make it convincing.” She licks her lips, tasting the remnants of her liquor.

“I —- I—” you can’t find the words to even respond. You stare at her incredulously, she will never admit to it. Even now, she has you questioning your own sanity, if it was even worth fighting against her.

It’s not worth screaming about it. Not anymore.

“I have to go.” Swiftly, you stand up, with a bated breath.

“That’s how you talk to the mother of your child?”

Stiffening, as the hairs that align a cat’s spine, “Don’t you dare!” Your index finger pointing, shouting in a hush. “Stop using Kamala against me—” your voice wavers, throat nearly choking a sob, “You did enough of that in court.” Big brown eyes sheening wet, the last nerve shot.

Trying to maintain a level of calm, eyes fluttering back and forth around, seeing if anyone has witnessed your outburst.

“I don’t even have to do that,” Carol’s open palm gestures to your rigid stance, “she can see perfectly fine how erratic you’ve been.” Carol hisses, making your nose scrunch up.

Kamala adores — idolizes— Carol. So memorized by her strong, willful mother, since she was a waddling baby.

You haven’t dared utter a bad word about Carol in-front of Kamala, fearing to shatter the fragile bubble you curated as a shield for her. You wouldn’t let her witness the court meetings, especially the negotiations of joint custody.

By every fiber of your being, you’ve tried to make this separation as discreet as possible—- but Carol has been a devil, bulldozing those efforts. To make you appear as the bad parent.

You can’t stand her lawyer, Carol hired one who hails from Hell’s Kitchen—- fitting since he’s a thorn upon your rib. Subtlety bringing up your mental health, questioning your abilities as a mother —- no doubt, Carol was chewing his ear off about your past.

All Kamala knows is that her mothers are splitting up, with foreign lawyers, and that she now has to split weekends—- those pained brown eyes, her puffed cheeks, it kills you deeply—- all the guilt weighs on you, it feels as if you’re to blame for all the problems.

“You’ve taken so much from me, Carol.” You lean in, kneeling at her eye level. “My dignity, my peace— shit— even my sanity.” Your body anxiously fidgeting, breath quickening.

“But I will not, let you take my child away from me.” Your fingers dive into your purse, fumbling with irate, snagging the last cash you had—- with the finality of this conversation, slamming the money onto the marble countertop.

You carried Kamala, incubated inside you for nine months, fed her from your breast—- you will not lose her, not over your cold dead body.

“Goodnight, Carol.”

Sharply, you turn on your heel, leaving Carol without turning back. Walking with a gait, faking confidence, but truly at your core, a gnawing sense of uneasiness.

The corridor stretches as a miniature maze, the more you descend out of the gala, the less crowded it is. Turning left and right, trying to find the exit.

The ambiance is of grainy gray, the tinted blurred windows are foggy with the night’s shadows.

The echoes of clicking heels are faint, your mind doesn’t register, as your own feet and mind are stuck on auto-pilot.

“There she goes again,” an agitated voice snags your attention, brows furrowing, “always acting like the little victim.”

Not granted the chance to realize, in a flash, just as quick as you turned your head, rough hands grab you by the curve of your shoulders, throttling you against the chilled wall pavement.

Earning a hiss, and a gasp, stinging pain births and stretches along the muscles of your spine. Quickly, your fingers fruitlessly try to claw at Carol’s, but all it does is make her more enraged.

Carol thrashes you once more against the wall, and another for good measure; airy gasps of pain escapes you, tears beading at your lashes. That militant discipline seeps from her pores, it’s not a stranger to you, the rough edges of her touch is a familiar bruise.

“It may have worked with the rest of the world,” Carol barks in your face, nose to nose, “but it’s not going to work with me.”

Sniffling, your chin wobbles, trying to restrain a sob that burns your throat raw.

Carol hums, that tut of a sympathetic mother, “Look at us.” Her thumbs rubbing your shoulders, pressing on the blooming bruises. “I don’t like it when we fight.

Eerily, she influcates from predator to savior, “You always get erratic, and you know it upsets me.” Leaning in, her pink lips press a kiss on a falling tear.

“Where’s my special girl?” Carol whispers. Fear is beating inside of you, buzzing as tv static. Staring at Carol through your hooded lids, terrified, and confused.

Carol purrs, awaiting for an answer.

“I’m here.” Barely a murmur, you speak softly.

Carol thrives off of her aggression. But it’s not the traditional masculinity that some women possess in their personalities. She feels it’s the only gift her father ever gave her.

“It’s very cute that you try to fight me.” Carol mocks, her knuckles stroke your cheek. Carol hums, her eyes tracing over every facial feature.

“Let me see if she missed me.”

A string of no no no slip from you meekly.

One of Carol’s hands graze over your shoulder, twirling her fingers into your hair—- gripping between her fingers tightly. To then cup the nape of your neck, her thumb pressing slightly over your pulse point.

As she has you pinned by the scruff, her other hand flows down your cavlices, to your clothed breast—- she snags the collar to expose skin.

Groping a handful of your tit, she mutters still so soft, traveling down the path of your navel—- with a quick precision, Carol snatches your groin; more like clawing.

A sharp gasp escapes you, and all she does is laugh.

A quick glance at the end of the hallway, praying that nobody turns the corner. Carol snickers. “Afraid someone will catch us?” You exhale a huff, nose flaring.

“I remember you used to be quite adventurous.”

“That’s when I was young and stupid.”

Her eyes narrow, pinching your vagina in her hand even tighter. With her knee, she wedges her thigh between your shaky legs, spreading you more open.

Slithering her hand through the stitched fabric, her knuckles stroking your sensitive skin. Your breathing becomes heavier, and all she does is smirk.

Moving your panties to the side, Carol’s makes herself home to your body. Ashamed to feel yourself grow wet, and Carol moans.

“It seems she missed me.”

All unbridled frustration hits the hilt, you cry in a stretched whine, thrashing in her hold. In need to escape, you wanted to go home, away from her.

All these weeks of trying to flee from her, do the right thing to gain custody, to live a good life, give your daughter stability —- all of it goes down the drain by her simple touch.

Beating on her arms with fists, slapping and trying to knee her in a weak spot. Carol’s eyes darken—- as if she’s bored of the insolence.

Carol pushes her weight onto you, pinning to the wall. And her fingers don’t cease on her assault.

“I hate you.” You choke on a wail, your head tilting up as a child.

“I’ve saved you.” An expert circular motion of her fingertips, sending a jolt to your bundle of nerves.

“Who else can say that?” Carol leans in, her head tilting, as her lips meet your cheek.

Softly, she kisses you, caressing and grazing against the skin of your cheek.

“I took care of you, and you just want to leave?” Carol’s pink tongue slithers between her lips, licking and nibbling. Boldly, her fingers dove between your folds, playing with your wetness.

“You wanted a savior, baby, I’m it.” The bridge of Carol’s nose traces yours, humming at the wet sensation of your tears. “You were nothing before me—-” another finger plunging inside you, “—- and you will be nothing after me.”

“I — I — would rather be alone.” You say with a stammer, lips wet with tears. Mouth curling into a brave scowl, regaining some bravery, “I’ll be fine.”

Carol’s face leans a little back, tilting her head mockingly. “When I say nothing after me, I mean it—-” Carol’s teeth bare as fangs, “you’ll be buried six feet deep, before I let you go.” Her fingers grip the nape of your neck, tugging you in.

“No one can ever have you.” She whispers.

Your eyes are owlish, you don’t doubt her…. her time in the boot camp was extensive, you felt her trained strength many times—- she loves like a knife. Many bruises healed over the years.

Not brutal beatings, but very handsy.

A glimmer of fear suffocates you, your body keels as a leashed dog.

Her fingers slither against your peach fuzz, slipping between your mound, toying with your wetness. Splitting your velvety folds apart, Carol vulgarly strokes you with her fingers sloppily, staining the hem of your panties.

Carol grinds herself onto your thigh, you can feel a wet spot pooling at her silk panties. Your fingers are digging into her forearms. A rough dance of humping and grinding, both reaching for a high.

Your wet walls can’t help but suck her inside, clenching tight. Fiercely plunging in and out—— it’s been some time. Since the last time, you were touched. It’s bordering on painful, a bit tight.

You did entertain another for a while. A woman you met at a bar. Short dark chestnut hair, a soft posh english accent, a bold yet cheeky mouth. She said her name was G’iah, you never met anyone with such a name.

Despite the attraction, the idea of offering yourself physically was too overwhelming. But, the emotional energy was wonderful. It was a breath of fresh air.

You just couldn’t bring yourself to love another.

Skin screaming for touch, yet your heart is trying to fight back. The flesh only reminisces the good, but all the hurtful memories are chained to your mind.

Carol’s mouth ajar, hovering over the meat of your cheek. Your face scrunches, eyes tight, a whine boils at your throat. She breathes a chuckle. She always finds amusement in your misery.

Carol loves to play God—- the Old Testament God. In the carnal sense, and in spite. Worship her, and only need her, obey every command, but commit a sin—- and she shall see to it, that her pettiness will rule over your life.

Her fingers spread, your slick connects to her fingertips, flickering the gossamer thin threads between her expert fingers, diving into you.

Her teeth grazes your cheek, her warm breath cascading against your mouth. Torn between closing your thighs to stop her, or thrust your hips into her hand.

Carol’s tongue slips out, and kitten licks your parted lips. Her pink tongue licks your canines, inhaling your breath. Sweet scent of liquor coats your tongue, Carol suckles into her mouth, moaning at the taste.

A lewd pop comes from Carol pulling back on your tongue, as her fingers curl harsher. Bordering on pain, the pleasure is electric. Pulsing through you, as her thumb toys with your swollen clit.

Her moans are animalistic, you can feel her pussy splitting, a sensation of silk and waxed bare skin. Her clit is grinding fully onto your thigh. It feels so damn good.

A part of you wants her to cum on you. To use you.

Carol’s face tilts away from yours. Her brown eyes swirl with malice, narrowing for a split moment. A smile stretches.

“Kamala would be so hurt to lose her mommy—” Carol’s words earn a mean eye from you, but all she does is laugh humorlessly. “How could you abandon our child?”

Like a stab to your heart, Carol just twists the edge deeper. Her fingers still deep inside you, clenching in need for her to finish— to get you right at the precipice.

“I would never leave Kamala,” you speak with a strain, a rough slice at your throat. “I love her.” Bordering on pleading, your eyes water-sunk.

“Then why do you make her cry?”

“What?”

“Every night she asks why her mom isn’t home,” Carol leans more of her weight on your belly. Her fingers fucking you harshly, hitting that sweet spot so perfectly. Your juices are now soaking down her hand.

“She cries till she falls asleep. She thinks you hate her.”

Torn between rutting your hips into her palm, grinding and fucking her fingers as if it was one of Carol’s toys —- and the need for space, to free yourself from these clutches.

Salty tears fall to your wrinkling lips, shaking from silent tears.

“It doesn’t have to be this way,” Carol says, her voice smooth and affectionate. Her lips pouted, “We can be together again.” Her shiny blonde hair kisses her lashes, in the grainy city lights, she looks innocent.

“Don’t you want to be a family again?”

She pushes her fingers further, slowly playing with your clit— and then stops, edging you. She can feel your spongy walls nearly spasming. Carol knows how to play the strings of your flesh.

Damn her.

“I do.” Your voice gurgles in a sob.

You know she’s tricking you… and you enjoy it.

In some deep seeded—- an absolutely fucked —- part of you, relishes in it. Because it’s all you know. But, it’s that glimmer of tenderness, the kisses, and honeyed words that pulls you back in.

Back to mutilate yourself on her knife over and over again. And isn't that what love is? Carol would say, time and time again, after the dust settles from her fits of rage.

Wet squelching floods your ears, echoing throughout the empty hallway. Your hand trails to her waist, gripping her dress, roughly grazing the smooth skin of her waist.

Legs entangled, and Carol’s thrusts are getting faster, sloppy. Her moans are getting high-pitched, away from primal and more girlish.

You cling to her, in this moment, you just need to feel anything. And you know she needed it too.

A burst of euphoria, hanging onto each other, as if both would fall apart. Carol felt it, how you spasmed on her fingers. Clenching so tight, trapping her hand for a moment.

Bated breaths dance against each other, hair flying by the breeze of huffing. Yours are gasps of relief.

In a desperate plea, you reach for a kiss, but Carol pulls away.

“I hope you learned something …” Carol hisses, her fingers stroking between your slippery folds, agitating your over-stimulated clit. The meat of your thigh quivers, tailbone pinching as you try to mesh into the wall, far from her.

Carol takes her fingers out, leaving behind an empty feeling—- like a void. Without blinking, Carol unabashedly suckles on her two fingers, tasting you.

“I hope you make the right decision.” Carol whispers against her tips. Pulling her warm weight off of your bodice, a chill sweeps against the tepid sense of your belly.

Carol hums for a moment with a stony face. She tugs on the collar of your dress, the top of your bosom exposed —- it was a stiff gesture.

Without a word, Carol posed her spine, and walked away, a snide side-eye.

Leaving you behind with an ache between your thighs, love bites across your chest, and fresh bruises. Left behind in the chilled hallway, and in wrinkled attire —- as if you were a used whore.

Your head falls, crying into your chest. Your fingers pulling your dress down, your inner thighs tender. Your fingertips touch the wet spot Carol left behind near your knee.

A pause.

It’s wrong, but you crave her taste. Suckling your fingertips into the cave of your mouth.

You can still smell her fragrance lingering—- and yet, you crave it, hoping it clung to your dress.

Timid footfalls carry you through the high-end residential hallway. Bated breath, and in wrinkled clothes, you lift and loosely drop your luggage in your grip. Pacing back and forth, trying to salvage any scrap of courage to knock.

Your head is bowing down, chin to chest. A stop in-front of the door. The reasoning motivating your surrender blurs—- is it for Kamala only, or is it also that a loyal dog who always forgives?

A silent white flag has been waived.

A lonely dog always comes back.

Dull steps creep closer, syncing with the beat of your heart. One unlock, and another follows. Defeat seeps from your pores, a bone-rattling warning siren echoing in the rush of your ears.

The door knob slowly twists, as if she’s mocking you. But not a second more, the door creaks open. Green eyes blink back with mirth, and a smile.

No words are needed.

Carol hums, stroking your hair, fingers gliding down the terrain of your neck, guiding you inside by the nape of your neck.

Awaiting on the bed is a silk nightie, and skincare, curated by Carol’s choice. Pristine, wrinkled-free silk. Not one flaw in sight.

She knew you would come back. A cocky woman, and yet she’s never wrong. A stir of irate coils in your belly, but it’s snuffed before it can disrupt.

In the dark, you tip-toe down the hall. Elated and relieved, it felt like a century crept by, but it was only a week of separation.

Weekends weren’t enough. You needed to see her everyday.

Brown fingers slowly grasp at the knob, twisting open. The white walls are adorned by the flash of a night light that glows small stars glimmering against the ceiling.

A room of action figures, anime, music posters and a wall dedicated to her drawings. That familiar scent that never really went away, that baby smell that clung to her as an infant.

Kneeling into her bed, curling under the blanket. Legs curling underneath you, knees bent, as you caress Kamala’s scalp, furling her hair behind the shell of her ear. Your brown fingers melt into the onyx shine of her tresses.

Her sleepy cheeks puffed, she looks like a sleeping cherub. Silently, tears cascade against the hill of your nose, staining the pillow sheet.

For months, you’ve tried to conjure ideas on how to run away from this life with Kamala, but all your ideas end up in the possible reality of being arrested with charges of kidnapping, and never seeing your daughter again.

The truth of the matter is -— you will crawl skin bare in the deepest parts of hell just for her. Suffering silently in these marital ruins, for the sake of being able to raise your only child, is what you will do.

You don’t know what you want with Carol —- you don’t have anything else to offer as a wife, besides submitting your entire being as a sacrificial offering.

It’s all she ever wanted. Wholesome love is seen as a defect in Carol’s eyes, a trait taught to her by her father. Control over everything is what brings her peace. And being cared for is what brings you solace.

The only person in the world Carol doesn’t unleash her wrath upon, who she adores entirely, is Kamala. Never once has Carol raised her voice, nor her hand at Kamala.

It’s disturbing, to see Carol be so genuine in her affections.

But, you’re ever so grateful. Despite being a masochist, under all the rubble harboring in your cavity— is a little girl suffocating for tenderness. For anything, just for someone to hold her.

Carol is a peculiar creature, and yet she has driven you to the brink of madness over the last stretched months, because she can’t bear to lose you —-- that has to mean something, right?

But as you lay here, wallowing in the dead silence, staring at Kamala slumbering —-a thought came to you; a lingering fear. Paranoia gnawing at you, chewing away bit by bit.

You wouldn’t want Kamala to suffer like this one day.

#widowsofchaos wrote this #carol danvers x reader #dark Carol Danvers x reader #carol danvers x female reader #dub non con #dark elements #lesbian Carol Danvers

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pippin-katz · 3 months

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I understand being upset that Mary & George is about filthy sex vs. RWRB but also... As a queer person, straight people have shows like GoT which are mostly filthy hetero sex so we can have the same.

People had sex for power throughout history, that's just how it is. And George was mentioned in the RWRB novel by Henry specifically so to have Nick portray him in this show is pretty cool.

You misunderstand me.

I have absolutely no qualms about Mary & George being the show that it is. I have no problem with it being raunchy and sex-filled. I'm entirely for variety of content and genres for all groups of people.

What I was pointing out is that this show is truly getting attention. There's interviewers, articles, social media posts, etc. that are all buzzing about it. It's not just a niche group of book fans that are anxiously awaiting the adaptation. There is a lot of hype, and one of the first things everyone mentions when discussing this show is the sex.

That's all completely fine, but I can't help but feel like this excitement and anticipation would not have applied to Red, White & Royal Blue, even if it had gotten the promo it should've.

People love getting excited/flustered/teasing/curious over sex on the screen, particularly if it's dirty and/or kinky. "Sex sells" is a saying for a reason.

It hurts to finally get a movie like Red, White & Royal Blue, that is beautiful, hopeful, funny, happy, and unapologetically queer, without it being the center plot point, and know deep down that it would never get as much praise or attention as something like Mary & George would.

The painful truth is that for the general masses, gay relationships boil down to sex. It's what they think of first. It's what some of them only think about. When a ship/pairing is proposed, what's one of the very first questions asked or teased about?

"Who's the top and who's the bottom?"

It is treated as something that they are expected to share based on how casually it's asked. You would never ask that question to a heterosexual couple even though those terms can be applied to them too. It's all they want to talk about, and yet they're also oblivious and ignorant. I mean, for fuck's sake, at least 75% of the viewing population of RWRB, even those who would consider themselves dedicated allies, did not know that men could have missionary sex. All they picture when they think of gay sex is rough, back-to-chest sex where they aren't facing each other. It did not even occur to them as a possibility that men could have gentle, face-to-face sex.

Loving sex is rarely depicted between queer couples on the screen, which is what made Red, White & Royal Blue so different and important.

The film is also not centered around their sexualities. They are contributing factors to the plot, but they are not the focus the way it is in movies like Love, Simon. Taylor recently quoted Matthew with this phrase: "It is not a gay love story; it's just a love story."

Henry and Alex's relationship is depicted no differently than any heterosexual romcom couple. If you switched one of them to a woman, you could play the plot out the exact same way; all you would change would be the scrutiny based on their sexualities, which can be substituted for class differences, race, or literally anything else that the public could hold against them.

And to clarify again, there is nothing wrong with showing the other side of this. I have no problem with it whatsoever!

It is just disappointing and frustrating to see how fast and easily the media flock to a show like Mary & George because it's so "outrageous" and "sexy", while Red, White & Royal Blue has practically been brushed off only six months following its release after it dominated the worldwide charts for several weeks.

I know what people will say: "Oh, the window for promo has passed!" "Oh, they're still talking about it a bit!" "Oh, it's because of the strike!"

Yes, it was, but I cannot shake the feeling that even if it hadn't happened, Red, White & Royal Blue would have still gotten the short end of the stick compared to something like Mary & George, or The Idea Of You that's coming out later. I'm pushed more towards that mindset after RWRB lost the SAG award the other night even though it was easily the best one on that list.

RWRB is treated as inferior and has already suffered from homophobic Hollywood standards multiple times, but I almost guarantee you that M&G will receive mountains of praise and awards, despite being way more explicit than RWRB is.

That is what I have a problem with.

#mary and george #red white and royal blue #rwrb #rwrb movie #rwrb thoughts #katz questions

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copperbadge · 1 year

Photo

The Pompeii exhibit at the MSI, as with many temporary exhibits there, is split across two galleries. I like how they handled that this time; the first half presents artworks and artifacts recovered from Pompeii, and uses them to teach about ancient Roman life. I studied classical fresco and mosaic arts in grad school, so I got to see some stuff in person that I’d only ever seen before in books. The mosaic of the anchor, for example, has never left Italy before.

The winged-phallus windchime I’d seen before but also not in person, and I was very amused by the fact that it was off in a niche with a warning sign about artifacts of an adult nature. Which was mostly a lot of dicks, and a couple of (I thought) tasteful frescoes of people having sex or looking like they’d like to. I also wrote a paper on the penis as a magical amulet in classical history in grad school, so I was delighted by all the penis amulets I got to see. A hundred years ago you had to Know A Guy At The British Museum to get a look at stuff like this.

The last image comes from the more serious second half of the exhibit, which I have another post queued about, but I thought one of the cooler elements they introduced was the screen showing a gladiatorial fight, with the two smaller screens showing images of the fighters. I love that they basically gave this gladiator a D&D character stat set.

There were some aspects of the exhibit I didn’t love -- some scientific/historic exhibits in the past ten years have made heavy use of video, which I don’t hate intrinsically, but a lot of the time there will be several video exhibits in one room. It’s extremely unpleasant to try and watch one -- or even look at non-video exhibits -- when three separate video narrations are audible at once. I had planned to leave my headphones off, because I’ve realized that I’m rarely in public without my headphones in and that might be contributing to a certain level of alienation, but I had to get them out of my pocket and put them back in because at least I could pump the volume on my playlist and only hear Robbie Williams instead of three separate people pontificating about ancient history.

But overall as a Roman history and an art history nerd I very much enjoyed the exhibit, and I might go again before it closes.

[ID: Four photos; the first shows the entry atrium to the exhibit, a pair of old-fashioned wooden doors above which is a video screen with the title “One Day In Pompeii” waiting to show us an introductory film. Middle left, a mosaic showing an anchor, two swimming men, and two dolphins or whales, is mounted on a wall; middle right is a windchime made of a bronze winged penis-creature with a penis-shaped tail, each of its limbs clutching a chain that holds a small bell. Bottom, a large video screen with two glass panels in front of it; the screen shows a shield and sword in a gladiatorial arena, while the panels show the warrior on the right and his “stats” and name, Murmillo, on the left.]

#pompeii #msi #classical history #art history #exhibit design

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dramarec · 9 months

Text

Theerapanyakul Foundation Hospital

What would happen if the Theerapanyakuls were a dynasty of doctors instead of criminals? - A silly and self indulgent AU

Korn: cardiac surgeon, transplant specialist. Classic god complex paired with irrealistic expectations for everyone, especially his own children.

Kinn: general surgeon, colorectal surgery specialist. Temperamental, but meticulous. Expects people to read his mind. Fucked (almost) every OR nurse he worked with. He chose a surgical speciality to appease his father, but honestly he would have preferred something less invasive.

Tankhun: Planned to go into cardiac surgery, but avoids contact with patients after a traumatic experience. Works in theoretic medicine. Has unlimited research funds thanks to his family, which he uses to model the pathophysiology of extremely rare diseases in goldfish. There's like a grand total of 5 people around the world who understand his papers. They are actually groundbreaking, just in a very niche area.

Kim: still a singer, gives no fucks.

Vegas: maxillofacial surgeon. Failed to get in medschool on the first try, so he did Dentistry first and then General Medicine. Hardcore. Despite being fucking terrifying, maxillofacial surgery is not as well respected as Kinn's field.

Macau: is not expected to go into medschool. If he had to chose a speciality, he'd like to become an ortho bro.

Porsche: young hotshot paramedic. Thinks he knows better than everyone, and flirts with everything that moves. Very dedicated. Patients love him, doctors hate him. Absolutely no work-life balance.

Chay: is told not to pursue a carreer in healthcare daily by a very tired Porsche Pete: prenatal ICU nurse. Looks and acts adorable. The literal strongest.

Arm: biostatistican of Tankhun. Riddled with the impossible task of turning the weird fish his boss plopped down his desk into coherent data.

Pol: jack of all trades. Has been observed to work in every department, but no one's really sure what his actual role is. (It's committing medical malpractice for Tankhun.)

Big: the only male nurse in the general surgery ward Kinn has not fucked. (Actually, every nurse in the hospital is male, because Kinnporsche) Is vocally planning murder every time he has to register a patient Porsche has brought in, and read the complete bullshit Porsche calls "documentation".

Ken: secretly works shifts at general surgery and maxillofacial surgery as well. Biggest gossip.

Chan: That nurse. Queen of the motherfucking needles. Can create venous access in a geriatric patients with no functioning veins by throwing a canule at him like a darts. His department would probably run smoother if he was in charge and not some stupid doctor.

Tay: anesthesiologist. Highly skilled but prefers to work behind the scenes. Spends most of his day solving crossword puzzles and reading fashion magazines in the OR, while complaining that Kinn takes too long (again), and he'll have to work overtime (again). He is always correct. Saved Kinn's ass multiple times.

Time: OBGYN. Chronically late. Dismissive attitude. Not only did he fuck every nurse, intern and assistant, he fucked some husbands of his patients as well.

Nampheung: dermatologist. Does not age.

Gun: Failed to get into medschool.

#kinnporsche #kinnporsche the series #kpts #kinnporsche fanfic #or something like that i don't actually have a fic for this au #i jut liked the mental excercise #theerapanyakul foundation hospital

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autismtana · 7 months

Text

so you wanna write a heartbreak high fic, but you're american...

As an Australian who writes fanfic for Glee (which is American), it's interesting seeing kind of the opposite thing happen with Heartbreak High, which is very much an Australian show (even though there's a couple things here and there that I'll get into in this post), and I thought I'd offer my perspective as someone who grew up and went to school in Sydney (and is also very autistic and detail-oriented). I think this might be the first time an Australian teen drama has gone mainstream, but there's a lot of specific cultural things in Australia that tend to get lost in fanfiction.

So, without further ado, here is your guide to how to write about high school in Australia (or if you just want to learn about Australia, here tis).

(Disclaimer: this is mostly based on my experience living in NSW where Heartbreak High is filmed and set, but there might be some subtle differences in other states)

{This is a photo from Maroubra Bay High School, which doesn't exist anymore and is now the location where Heartbreak High is filmed}

Basic things: The school year starts at the end of January and ends in mid-December, and is broken up into 4 10-week terms, with two weeks holiday between each term and 5-6 weeks at Christmas. We're in the Southern Hemisphere, and February is an absolute nightmare weather-wise. In New South Wales (NSW), you're in primary school from years K-6 and high school from years 7-12. People generally refer to the grade they're in as "year #" or sometimes "grade #". If you go to a public school, it's usually with kids from your local area. Primary schools are usually called [Suburb Name] Public School (sometimes there's a "north" or "west" or even a street name instead; high schools are generally [Suburb Name] High School. School starts around 8:30 and ends at around 3. There's recess in the morning (usually around 11am) and lunch in the afternoon (usually around 1-1:30pm). Kids will either bring their own lunch or buy from the canteen, which these days is generally meant to be "healthy". The legal drinking age here is 18; that being said, it is not illegal for parents to let their children drink alcohol at home under their supervision (so if a 16-year-old's dad lets them have a beer at home, they're not going to get charged with supplying alcohol to a minor). Drinking culture in Australia is pretty feral and pretty much every social gathering involves alcohol. The youngest you can be to start school is turning 5 on or before the 31st July and the latest you can start is the year you turn 6; most parents, particularly those that are more well-off and can afford that extra year of preschool/childcare, start their kids the year they turn 6 (even if they turn 6 in January), so most teenagers will turn 18 during year 12 (which generally involves, parties, drinking and pubs). I did not. I turned 18 the day after O-week at uni ended, which is my villain origin story, but in some instances, a kid who is a month away from turning 19 will be in the same year 12 class as a kid who turned 17 four months ago without having repeated any grades.

Language & Slang: Australian slang is so niche that I'm just going to link you to this document, but just be aware that some of this shit is outdated and not used by anyone not named Alf Stewart, so use your better judgement. Thongs are a pair of shoes. Prawns are seafood (not shrimp; no one says "throw shrimp on the barby"). Australians swear a lot. Some of my favourite swears are "get fucked", "fuckwit", "fucknuckle", "shitcunt" and many others. We use "cunt" as a term of endearment and often use "mate" to be as passive aggressive as possible (call your mates "cunt" and cunts "mate"). Nobody fucking says "g'day mate" (and, while we're at it, nobody fucking drinks Fosters).

Uniform: Hartley High is a non-uniform school. This is actually extremely rare in Australia and I think there's only like 1 or 2 mainstream schools in NSW with no uniform. The vast majority of Australian schools have uniforms ranging from the typical stuffy blazer-and-straw-hat combo at the likes of Shore and Scots to a simple polo shirt and footy shorts/trackies in your average rural or regional public school. In the original series from the 90s, it's established that the school did at one point have a uniform that was a plot point in an episode where Nick Poulos (the main character at the time) is elected class captain to the chagrin of conservative teacher and football coach Bill Southgate. Other schools in the area would probably have a uniform; the school where it was filmed is now closed, but I did find a picture that shows what the uniform once looked like (see above).

Geography: Hartley High is located in the South Sydney/Eastern Suburbs area, so feel free to incorporate a little Rabbitohs/Roosters rivalry into your fic for that extra bit of authenticity. We play rugby here, which Australians also call "footy". Australian Rules Football (AFL) is also colloquially called "footy", which can get very confusing. Private schools (like the one where Darren's fuck buddy Jacob goes) tend to favour rugby union. Pretty much everyone (and I mean everyone) has a rugby league team they support. For example, I'm a Rabbitohs supporter, my mum is a Cowboys supporter and my dad is a Broncos supporter. There's also State of Origin, which is NSW vs Queensland (basically you support the state you were born in but some people jump on the Queensland bandwagon whenever they're winning ... fuckwits).

Classes and Timetables: Timetables here operate fortnightly, so it's not overly common to have the same class at the same time every day. Generally there's a rollcall class in the morning for 20 minutes where teachers do things like read notices, hand out notes and check uniforms and phones (I'm pretty sure the NSW education department actually just banned the use of phones in schools), then you'll typically have two classes, then recess, then another two classes, then lunch, then maybe one or two classes followed by home time. Here is a summary of everything kids in New South Wales have to learn in high school: Stage 4 (Years 7-8): English, Maths, Science, HSIE (History/Geography), TAS (e.g. cooking, sewing, metal work, woodwork, digital technology), CAPA (generally just music and art but can also include dance and drama), PDHPE (theory and prac), LOTE (my school offered French and Italian, but there's a massive variety of languages on offer and a lot of schools actually teach the local Aboriginal language). Stage 5 (Years 9-10): English, Maths, Science, HSIE, PDHPE and electives. The number of electives that can be chosen vary from school to school, but some popular examples are PASS, Art, Drama, Music, Food Tech, Metal, Woodwork. Some schools offer things like STEM as an elective and others offer, say, two electives and have all students undertaking some kind of STEM class. What my school did was offer four electives - two for year 9 and 10 and then two for just year 9 because Australian History and Australian Geography would take up those extra two timeslots. I chose Music, Italian, Drama and, for some reason, extension maths. Stage 6 (Year 11-12): this is the lead up to the HSC, and it's where things start to get complicated so ... everyone has to study English (Advanced, Standard, Studies, Extension and EALD) and I think Maths (Advanced, Standard, Extension and a course called Numeracy which is more everyday numeracy in society), then a whole bunch of subject choices that can be found here, and the HSC has no requirements as to the types of subjects you can study (e.g. there's no language requirement, science requirement etc. like in the US; you got that shit out of the way in stages 4 and 5). There are also VET subjects that give you a TAFE qualification when you finish them which is nice (most popular one is Hospitality). Then you get your HSC at the end of year 12.

This was so long that there is going to be a part 2 (apparently there's a lot to know about living in NSW and going to school there and it's longer than 4000 characters), so stay tuned for things like student leadership, sport, extracurricular stuff, uni (this is probably the area that's the most different from the US) and whatever other extraneous things I can think of.

#heartbreak high #fanfic advice #life in australia #basically a guide to how to write about school in australia if you're american

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