#he's 82% dead! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

toxicanonymity · 10 months

Text

ring doorbell 🚪

5400 words, stepdad!Joel x f!reader

stepdad master

Summary: Joel holds it together at a Christmas party, only to show up at your apartment later. WARNINGS: I8+ stepcest, toxic fluff, f masturbation, party-typical alcohol, angst, reader dacryphilia, grinding, unsafe P in V INTERCOURSE FINALLY ❤️‍🔥 (he's clean, I tested him myself), pulling out (this time), big mess of cum. A/N: dedicated to @gracieispunk 🤍 (bc he's always been her #1) and all of stepdad's fans ✊💦

---------

Note: not a big deal but white elephant gift /party explanation if you don't know

This is the wk before Xmas week like 12/16/23 yes the whole fic is mildly in the future lmao the exorcist comes out this October.

-------

You still haven't snapchatted Joel back. After he sends nothing one day, you think about it a lot. You want to send him your own, but you can't decide what to send. You never used to overthink it, but after all this, whatever you send feels like a big deal. The next day, you're lounging on your bed thinking about it when you get a notification.

[Snapchat: J. has shared a photo with you]

You've gotten yourself off to Joel's snaps so many times that as soon as you get the notification, you're throbbing. You’re also relieved–after going a whole day with nothing from him, you were getting anxious. It's a rainy day and you're doing nothing, so you get out your silicone Joel but it’s dead. You change the batteries, silently thanking Joel for his foresight, and fold a towel under you. Before you open his Snapchat, you get yourself close with nothing but your imagination.

You imagine him showing up at your door, eyelids red, cheeks still wet with tears, unable to speak he's so desperate for you. Latching onto your lips as he barges into your apartment, hands cradling your head, pulling your face into his. Kissing you like he's starving. Taking off each other's clothes on the way to your room without a single word spoken until he's on your bed and rasps "I fuckin' need you right now" as he gets between your legs. Tangling your fingers in his hair as his bare chest hovers over yours and his cock hangs heavily onto your mound until he reaches down and puts it where you need it. His lips on yours again. His tongue pushing into your mouth as he pushes his cock into you. Your legs wrapping around him as your body swallows his length. Joel pounding into you, moaning that moan you've heard so many times now, his skin against yours, thrusting into you, approaching that moment where he'll give you the biggest load you could imagine.

At this point, you open the snap, and it's not what you expect.

Photo: Close-up selfie of his face and bare shoulders. His shoulders are so muscular and tan that it takes you a moment to realize his head is resting on your pillow, in your room (at their house). His eyes are large and his brow is furrowed. He looks tired. Caption: Hope this is okay.

A lewd snap could follow any minute, but the first one makes you cum. Just the sight of his face, the face that would be right up against yours with that big, hard, beautiful cock finally inside you. Fuck. You keep staring at his face the whole time you cum. You almost kiss your fucking phone. This has gotten that out of hand. You leave it on read. It's sweet how he's being careful, almost timid. But at the same time, bold to go into your room. Hope this is ok. You fall asleep, and when you wake up, there's another photo from him, just four minutes earlier.

Photo (82 min after the first one): Close-up selfie on his side, hair is tousled. Arm looking huge. Eyes weak. Hugging one of your pillows. The corner is covering his chin and mouth. Caption: Good nap.

He just wanted to take a nap in your room? Your heart flutters, which is a little uncomfortable, like it's easier when he's just nasty. But you can't deny you like this sweet side of him. He doesn't know it, but you basically just took a nap together.

—------

The next morning, Joel sends another Snapchat.

Video: He's in your bed again, laying on his side shirtless with strong shoulders, muscle cleavage, and sleepy eyes as if he slept there all night. His voice is hushed. "Mornin', beautiful” (he yawns) “So about tonight . . .I'm not gonna make it weird, ok? I'll act normal."

Video (less than a minute later): He's in the same position but holding his phone further out and at an angle and your covers are pulled down so you can see a lot more of his torso. He says, "Hope you're still comin'."

Later that day

Photo: Mirror selfie in a red and white fair isle sweater and a mostly straight face but his eyes are a little sad. Caption: See? Normal.

There's a family Christmas party, and you're anxious despite Joel's assurances. Can you act normal? You haven't tried in person since that night with Jacques. If Joel is finally as willing as he seems, for some reason, that makes you nervous. For months now, you've been trying to break him down, often thinking it might never happen. Even with his dick pressed right up against your leggings on Thanksgiving, it felt far away. Now after weeks of no physical contact, it feels closer than ever. And as much as you wanna make your move on Mr. Cant-believe-he-ever-turned-you-down, you're unexpectedly anxious.

—------

When you get to your cousin's house, both Joel’s SUV and your Mom's car are there. A small mob greets you at the door. One of your aunts takes your white elephant gift off your hands. Joel is nearby, quietly sipping a drink. Looking over another aunt's shoulder as she hugs you, you can see how the sweater hugs Joel's biceps and has polar bears in the pattern. Does he have to be so cute? As you finish hugging them hello, Joel puts down his drink and tacks himself onto the end of the hug train.

He looks you in the eye with a subtle smile – sad but hopeful. He lifts both his arms, meaning this is a full hug and your arms will go around his waist. As you get closer, his scent hits you and you have to physically stop your eyes from closing in pleasure as you inhale through your nose. When you first touch, there's a literal spark. Static electricity. You gasp and he chuckles. Not to be deterred, his scruff brushes your cheek as his big arms wrap around you and squeeze. This brief moment might be the coziest you've felt all winter. You loosely embrace his waist, and when you pull back, he lets you go. You share a loaded glance, his eyes falling to your mouth as he wets his lips. An aunt comes to beckon you to the kitchen.

When you glance back over your shoulder, Joel adjusts his glasses and awkwardly hovers near the door. He’s wearing khakis, and his sweater is bunched up above his ass. Your aunt turns to say something to you and you whip your head back around and say "sorry."

In the kitchen, your Mom says she feels like she hasn’t seen you in forever. “Sorry I didn’t get to meet Jacques. Joel said I just missed him.” Joel comes and stands in the door frame, drinking out of his solo cup.

“That was weeks ago,” you say, not feigning warmth.

She asks if Jacques is still in the picture, and you shake your head no. When you glance at Joel, he looks about as satisfied as you expect. He helps change the subject by asking your uncle about golf.

One of the kids yells from the other room, "Uncle Joel! play Mario Kart with us!" And Joel leaves.

You overhear Joel say, "No cryin' when I beat ya this time."

Followed by an outraged, "YOU DIDN'T BEAT ME!"

Then Joel says, "Oww!"

—------

About an hour and a half later, you go outside alone to the deck for some air. The yard is dark. There's a trampoline and a treehouse. You’re leaning back against the wood railing, facing the house. A lot of the adults are drunk now and the kids are being put to bed. You want to leave, but the white elephant exchange hasn’t happened and you don’t need everyone asking after you, wondering what happened, whether you’re okay. You’d rather serve the time at the party. Preferably without being social.

You figure no one will notice if you go up into the treehouse meanwhile. You climb up and use your phone light. There’s a lantern up there. You turn it on. There are papers scattered on the floor with crayon drawings of monsters and people including a stick figure with what appears to be a huge dick pointing straight toward the ground and he's urinating on a crowd of smaller stick people. On another sheet, there’s a snowman with stick people for arms and they don’t look happy.

The treehouse smells like cedar chips and melted crayons. You can hear the murmur of the party which grows louder as someone opens the door. You sit and scroll your phone, confident no one saw you go up there. You think about snapchatting or texting Joel but wouldn’t want anyone to see it if he’s too drunk to be discreet.

—--

A twig snaps in the yard. A few seconds later, the ladder to the treehouse shakes under weighty footsteps and Joel appears in the little door frame.

"Thought I might find ya here." Fair enough–you weren’t anywhere else. He seems only a little tipsy. "It's almost white elephant time."

You look at each other in silence. His hair is messy. He’s so hot. You can't help but smile. He stays there in the doorframe with his big hands gripping the top of the ladder.

You break the silence with crude teasing about how he stopped sending you lewd snaps. "What happened yesterday, you didn't nut?"

He chuckles and looks down shyly. "Takin'' a break, I guess. And, uh. Wasn't sure you wanted that stuff.” He looks at you again. “Cause you never reply, so." It doesn’t sound like a complaint, it just sounds a little sad. “Guess I got in my head.”

You nod in understanding then rest your head against the wall again. “Guess I didn’t know what to say.”

He asks, "But you like it?"

You raise your eyebrows, impressed, and slowly nod. You say, "I guess practice makes perfect, 'cause damn." You take a deep breath and spread your legs, a symbolic gesture since you're wearing pants.

He groans softly, making you tingle. "Christ . .Don't get me hard while I'm on this fuckin' ladder."

You reach forward and extend your hand to bring him in and out of view of the door. His hand engulfs yours for balance, but he holds his own weight as he crouches into the small structure. Unable to stand, he gets down on his hands and knees and looks around and asks,"Think this thing is stable?"

"You're the expert."

He laughs, then it fades and you both seem to realize he's on all fours between your legs. He clears his throat and sits back on his heels. He looks at his watch.

"Do you, uh, wanna talk? We've got a minute."

You shake your head.

"I mean, we prolly should," he says softly, then clenches his jaw and his eyes seem to weaken when you break eye contact. Ugh, he's so hot and pitiful. You rise to your knees and knee-walk toward him. He lowers his voice, "But we don't have to talk . . .right now." When you've closed the short distance, you watch his eyes glisten and smell the egg nog on his breath. “Maybe later,” he says even softer. He swallows then cups your face in his hand and looks at your mouth.

After a final glance to your eyes, Joel softly presses his lips into yours and you meet him with the same softness. It makes you lightheaded. You’ve never kissed each other tenderly before, but it turns you on just as much as if he had ravished you. Because it’s real. He’s really into this, and he’s stayed into it for weeks without taking out any of his self loathing on you, IF he even still hates himself for this.

Joel's tongue brushes your lips, then you hear the sliding door to the house open in the distance. Your uncle yells "JOEL???" and you pull away. Joel pulls you back in for a few seconds with one hand behind your ear and another hand on your ass. His khakis press into your jeans and your heart jumps when you feel his cock begin to harden.

"JOEL! YOU FIND HER?"

You pull away again. He takes a deep breath, looks you over, and adjusts himself as he turns away. The uncle goes back inside. Joel exits the treehouse first then helps you down the ladder. As you brush off your knees and butt, he says, "shoulda told me you were comin' out here."

“Why?” you ask and he brushes himself off as well.

He hesitates and his face falls. “I dunno.” His eyes look more like his sad videos, like his cool facade is cracking. “I was lookin’ for ya.” His Adams Apple catches your eye as he swallows. He puts his massive hand on your back for a moment, ushering you toward the house.

—---

Your Mom gets too drunk and goes to sleep in a guest bedroom halfway through the white elephant game. Not the first time this has happened.

You're in a chair and Joel is sitting across the room on a sofa, manspreading. He rests his hand on his inner thigh and your breath hitches. You cross your legs, clench your thighs, and try not to stare, but you feel him looking at you from time to time.

Your cousin’s husband Barry opens the gift you brought. It’s a sweatshirt that says Cutie. He holds it up to himself and spins around for laughs. Joel glowers. Joel steals it when it's his turn and smiles when everyone laughs. No one steals it from Joel. At the end of the game, you hug everyone goodbye. Your hug with Joel is brief.

—----

In the middle of the night, your phone wakes you up with a Ring doorbell alert. It’s Joel. He’s wearing the stupid cutie sweatshirt. He adjusts his glasses. He rakes his hand into his hair and looks around in a way that makes you wonder if he might regret coming. You lie there for a minute or two watching the Ring feed, but he just stands there waiting. He braces his arm on the doorframe. His biceps stretch the sleeves. You turn your lamp on the dimmest setting and get out of bed.

You open the front door silently and he steps back as you open it. His eyes are a little red. He looks dead serious. He puts his hand back on the doorframe and the sweatshirt rides up enough to expose a sliver of skin. His Adam's Apple bobs and he asks hoarsely, “can I come in?”

You look around outside then step back and let him in.

“I can’t sleep,” he says as he walks into your dark kitchen. He shakes his head. “can’t sleep after seein’ you.” His eyes glisten. “Can we talk?”

You feel your heart rate rising and wonder if he can tell how nervous you are. You’d prefer to break the tension physically, but apparently he has something to say and you’re gonna have to hear it sooner or later. You turn and walk into your bedroom. You stack pillows and lie down face up. If he's not willing to get on your bed at this point, you're not sure if you wanna hear what he has to say after all.

At first, he stands at the foot of the bed with his hands behind his head, elbows bent forward in distress. Your eyes drift to his exposed happy trail and the way his joggers hug his groin. “I dunno what the hell’s wrong with me.” He looks toward your window and chokes back tears. Then he kneels on your bed. “You’re never gonna know how sorry I am.”

“Joel, I know,” you say softly. “C’mere.” You offer space next to you. Instead, he gets between your legs and your heart skips a beat. He lies face-down, with his feet hanging off the bed. His armpits rest on your upper thighs with his elbows and forearms on either side of your hips and torso. It turns you on of course, yet he doesn't seem to be making a move sexually.

“I am so, so sorry,” he says.

“I know,” you say again. “We can move on. I don't wanna keep talk–”

“But,” he says, then pauses and swallows. His eyes are big and watery. “I dunno if you get it. How sorry I am.” a tear rolls down his cheek. He wipes it and takes his glasses off. You reach out your hand to take them and put them on your nightstand. He whispers, “thanks,” as he dabs his eyes with his fingers which only sends the tears to his cheeks.

“I know you’re sorry, Joel, I get it.”

“No,” he shakes his head. “I don’t think you get-” He puts his face down on you for a second like he’s dabbing his cheeks on your PJs, then he lifts his head again. While choking back tears, he blurts out, “I’m SO fucked up over you." He blinks and looks away and another tear escapes his eye. "can't even fuckin' sleep except in your bed." He buries his face in your thin cotton PJs.

Now you’re turned all the way on. You take a deep breath as your ache for him deepens. When you don’t respond, he whispers, “I’m sorry,” then puts the other side of his face down on you, his mouth below your belly button. His tears are dampening your PJs. “I dunno why I’m here,” he mumbles into the bottom hem of your tank top. Your hips lift into his upper chest once, as though adjusting your position. He ignores it and continues, “FUCK, i’ve been tryin’ to give ya time.” He looks up at you. “Tried to act normal tonight.” He shakes his head and his brow furrows.

He presses his eyes into your tank top one by one to dry them without using his hands. “Then i show up in the middle of the fuckin’ night,” he laughs softly at how pathetic this is. It’s taking all your restraint not to rock your hips into him. You’re wet, so wet.

—-

“Stop. Just c’mere,” you say quietly and open your arms. You lift your hips again. He looks up at you and the distress on his face dissolves. As he crawls up your body, his big, sweet eyes begin to darken. He puts his forearms down on the bed on either side of your chest and your eyes connect for a moment. Your lips part.

“You’re so. . .fuck,” he sighs, then presses his lips into yours. Your mouth warmly accepts him. His lips move against yours and he licks into your mouth slowly at first, like he’s savoring every brush of his tongue against yours. Then it becomes needy at a sensual rhythm.

With your mouths still connected, he shifts his body. The warm bulge in his joggers meets your clothed heat, and then, oh god, his cock hardens against you. He softly hums, "mmm" as your mouths move together and he swells harder against you. You're throbbing, aching. For a second, you wonder if you're having a wet dream (you're not).

There's a different electricity between you now. You can both feel it – He breaks away for a moment and looks at you, breathing heavily, and you can see it in his eyes. He's not crying anymore. He looks at peace. He rests his weight on one arm, and his opposite hand slides onto your breast, slowly palming it as his lips move with yours and his growing arousal digs into you. It’s the first time you’ve had his whole body against yours. And fuck, he feels good. It’s the first time you’ve been on a bed together. That one time on your couch, he said it was dangerous being alone. This time, he's not stopping, not even slowing down.

He didn’t regret it last time you hooked up, but now there’s a different buzz inside you now. If he ends up regretting it this time, you could get hurt. His rejection never deterred you before, but this time, you feel like it could crush you. You're not even sure why, but you have to somehow acknowledge it before he puts his head between your legs, or whatever he has in mind.

“You’re sure you wanna. . . do stuff,” you begrudgingly say and inwardly shame yourself for the tremble in your voice.

“I’m so fuckin’ sure, sweetheart.”

—--

That's all you need, because you can feel it in his body, too. There’s no part of him that doesn’t want you. Your mouths embrace again and only come apart for heavy breaths and moans as your hips and lips move in rhythm. His cock grows even stiffer and his hand moves from your breast, down your side. His hands are so big and masculine, but gentle. There’s nothing hesitant about his movements. He grabs your thigh, and you bend your knee. He hikes up your leg and pushes himself harder against you where it counts.

He slides his hand down your thigh and into your soft sleep shorts, his fingers getting closer and closer to the pool of desire that's begging for him. When his fingertips reach your cunt, you arch your back and whine, pulling your lips away as your head tilts up toward the ceiling. His mouth comes to your breast and dampens your cotton tank top as he tongues your nipple through it.

"Fuck," you say between heavy breaths. You've never wanted anyone–or anything–so bad in your life. It's a need.

You run your hands over his hulking back, feeling the muscles flex on either side of his spine, and curl your fingers under the hem of his sweatshirt. He takes it off in a flash, his white t-shirt coming with it. He takes off your tank top, then his lips return to yours, his cock grinds into you, and you sigh.

He breaks the kiss and pauses. His tan shoulders look huge the way he's hovering there over you.

His voice is weak and hoarse. "Don't want ya to think I came here just to–"

"Shhhh," your hips lift and you moan at his hardness.

"Ohhh, God," he rolls his hips into yours and sighs your name. He dips his head and noses your neck, then murmurs into your skin, "didn't come here to fuck ya, baby." His scruff brushes your cheek on his way to look at you again.

"I know," you say. God, you need him so bad.

"Okay," he whispers, then covers your mouth with his again, kissing you hungrily.

Your lips break away, then you meet his eyes and tell him, "but that's what you're gonna do."

Joel reads your eyes for a moment, breathing heavily. Then he nods silently and a surge of arousal runs through you. "Yeah," he nods again. "I am."

You pull him down so his bare chest is against yours. He kisses you hard with a little bit of tooth, making your lips buzz and your nipples harden against him. He sucks your neck, and his rock-hard cock presses against your clit rhythmically. You throb violently. Then he whispers in your ear, "'m'gonna fuck ya, sweetheart," drawing a moan from you.

"Now," you beg. You lift your shoulder blades off the bed, pressing him up with your breasts and stomach. You reach around to his back and hook your thumbs into the waistband of his joggers.

"Yeah," he breathes. You tug down his joggers. He kicks out of them and you observe the massive tent in his boxers with a pang of need from your core through your heart. He urgently pulls off your sleep shorts, then says "fuck," and takes his boxers off, too.

You take a deep breath as you stroke your clit and spread yourself open for him. He moans softly at the sight of your fingers at your glistening cunt. He wets his lips as he reaches between your legs. His hand replaces yours, and he sharply inhales. He spreads your slick around your folds and gently rubs your clit. “Yeah,” he whispers. “Yeah, let’s go.”

He gets in position and hikes up your leg again. His head falls, putting his messy head of hair in your view. He watches himself align his cock with your entrance, and your breath hitches at the first touch of the smooth head of his cock. He begins to push inside with a moan, opening you up with his swollen tip. Your clit twitches. His hips push forward, giving you more of him, and his mouth falls open as he watches it happen. You both moan as his cock parts your insides. It’s happening smoothly, without effort, and the stretch is delicious.

Joel pries his gaze away from where your bodies are joined. He locks eyes with you, then plunges to the hilt and shudders as he bottoms out. God, the way his cock fills you up. His eyes glisten and his face looks like he’s in pain, but he’s not. You catch yourself holding your breath, and you exhale with a whimper. Joel stays all the way inside with his swollen balls against you and closes his eyes, his chest expanding with air. “Jesus, fuck,” he whispers. His chest is heaving. He opens his eyes and tries to speak. “You feel – god damn. . . you're. . .(a vocal sigh). . you–"

You cut him off by pulling him in for a kiss. He twitches inside you and you both moan.

After a moment, he slowly pulls his hips back, then pushes in again. "Mmmm" he moans into your mouth. All the times you’ve imagined this, you never counted on the contact of your bodies and faces together. You could never have dreamed how full you’d feel. Even after having him in your hand. In your mouth. This feeling is new for you. It’s like he’s shaped just for you. He pulls back, then bottoms out again and groans against your cheek. How is it already the best you’ve ever had? He retreats, then slides all the way in with a punch of his cock as he bottoms out.

"That okay?" he asks like he doesn't wanna hurt you.

You nod urgently, "Give it to me."

He thrusts into you harder, working up to about once per second, at first. Breathing heavily, grunting, moaning, vocalizing constantly in one way or another. He kisses your lips, sucks your neck, and lightly bites you as your cunt hugs his cock just right. He steals downward glances at your body and groans as he watches his glistening cock disappear into you again and again. He gradually ups the pace and intensity until you're whining.

"Fuck," he sighs, and you whimper. "Too much?"

"Don't hold back," you shake your head. "Don't you dare hold back."

"Oh, baby," he says, then slams into you with all his weight. You asked for it, but you're really not prepared for the other realm he sends you to. "Fuck MEee," he moans. He pounds into you, grunting each time he buries his cock in your dripping core. He snaps his hips and kisses you sloppily. Your mouths are half connected and half moaning into each other's cheeks.

You moan, “Jo–” but stop yourself.

“S'okay," he pants. "You can say it.”

“Fuck, I–”

“Say it, sweetheart”

“Joel,” you whine.

"Oh, Christ," he pants.

"Fuck, Joel, uggggh–your--"

"Oh, Fuck"

"Feel so–"

"Yeah," he breathes, slamming into you with his weight behind it. “Fuck, baby–yeahhh”.

You feel the pleasure building in your gut and core as he fucks you. Your sounds must seem increasingly distressed, and so do his. They tumble out of the back of his throat. The tension in your belly tightens. He lowers his chest against yours again. Your arms are around his neck and his forearms squeeze your sides. He manages to fuck you so deep and good, even while he's flat against you. His hips move like a mating animal.

It hits you like a ton of bricks: This is it. Every other man is ruined for you. How could anything compare? Your own eyes prickle with tears.

Joel tries a few times to say things, but every time it devolves into a moan or guttural sigh. He makes sounds you haven't heard before.

"Ohhh, fuck," he moans. "I dunno if I can–"

You open your eyes and the agonized look on his face puts you all the way on the edge. He must be close.

"Give it to me, Joel."

He pistons into you harder, all his muscles flexing. You whimper as your thighs tremble.

"C'mon, baby," he whispers, then he grunts. He growls, "Soak me, baby–ohh–Just fuckin'––nnngh"

You sigh vocally and start to clench around him. You moan his name, long and drawn out as pleasure seizes you.

You flutter around his cock and he gasps, "oh, fuck." You gush and groan, your hips lifting into him, mouth hanging open, breathing and whining at once.

He pants, "Fuck–(a low moan), I wanna fill–ohhhhh, god (heavy breaths). Sweetheart, i really wanna–ahh, shit." He bites his lips together, his cheeks puff out, and his neck vein flexes. You’re still cumming. He grunts from the back of his throat as he pulls out and slaps cock down on your mound. He presses his body against you so his cock rubs your still pulsing clit.

His cock is nestled between your bodies, and he’s grinding into you when he erupts massively with a shudder from deep in his chest. His pulsations drag yours out as his cum coats your mound and lower belly. He groans as he slowly, wetly grinds against you. He breathes and gasps for air, still cumming. His cock pulses so powerfully, a hot rope every couple of seconds.

With the movement of his hips and sliding of his cock, the warmth of his cum spreads around your skin, settling into your navel, and he’s still cumming. The obscene mess between you is sticky and growing. Then, even after his balls have emptied, he stays on top of you, hard cock pressed against you, empty pulsations waning for what feels like minutes. He's so warm and wet and hard. He lies there with his weight on you and dips his forehead to your pillow, resting his temple against yours. You both have aftershocks against each other as you try to catch your breath.

"Holy shit," you pant softly. Once he rolls off you, you're already sticking to each other near the edges of the mess where it's drying.

—--

All you can do is breathe heavily. His lips find yours. He kisses you deeply, then pulls back and hovers over you. He brushes tears you don't realize you're crying off your cheeks and his brow furrows.

"Shit," he says as his thumb brushes your cheek. His eyes are wide. "You okay?" He swallows and studies your face.

You nod confidently and look him in the eyes. He bows his head with relief, then gently kisses you again. You're terrified he's gonna come down and regret it. Your wet skin begins to feel cold. You look down. "Oh my god." It's so much cum. You're covered in it. It's all the way up to your breasts, at least. It's all over him, too.

"Oh shit," he says with a small laugh. "Gimme a sec." He gets out of bed.

-----

Cleaning both of you up takes multiple warm washcloths. You really need a full shower, but you're so tired and just want to be held.

You move to the dry side of the bed. You'll deal with it all in the morning. He turns off the lamp and gets under the sheets with you. You face each other, and he wraps his arms around you.

You ask, "What time do you have to leave?"

"I'm not worried about it," he says.

There's a long silence, during which he strokes your shoulder with his thumb.

Then you whisper, "What now?"

"Mmm….We do it again, and again, and again. . ."

You look up at him. "Are you mocking me?"

He kisses you.

"I'm trying to have an adult conversation," you mock back.

Then he whispers, "let's go to sleep" and kisses you good night.

—-------

His Xmas party look 😍😍😍

Distressed stepdad art 🥹🥹🥹

Thank you so much for reading and engaging. Your comments and reblogs mean a lot!!!! I love you guys. You can follow @toxicfics to turn on notifications. make sure your phone has push notifs enabled for tumblr.

If this is the first one you've read, I strongly recommend reading the series (it's not long like prob <15k total). there are references to it in this.

------

All Joel:@ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @wolvesandvampires @taeslarityy @str84pedro @lokanda @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl @feministfanboi @gracieispunk @prettypartyfavor @am-3-thyst @babeincolor @milla-frenchy @switchbladedreamz @within-the-depths @am-3-thyst @may-machin @pedromania91 @sloanexx @paleidiot

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #pedro pascal characters #toxicanonymity ☠️#stepdad!joel miller #stepdad!joel☠️#stepdad!joel #finally f*cking friday #tw stepcest

2K notes · View notes

ghibli-collector · 6 months

Text

For anyone who’s already seen Boy and the Heron i found this really interesting article where Ghibli Boss/Producer Suzuki was interviewed recently by indie wire and explains the background of the characters from the new Ghibli film, I’ve copied the full article below or you can click the link to go to the interview but once again it contains so many spoilers

‘The Boy and the Heron’ Is So Personal, Hayao Miyazaki Needed a Year to Grieve Before Pivoting in a New Direction

Miyazaki came out of retirement for his first film in a decade, about his friendships at Ghibli with the late co-founder/director Takahata and co-founder/producer Suzuki.

When Hayao Miyazaki pitched “The Boy and the Heron” (GKids, now in select L.A. and NYC theaters) to Studio Ghibli co-founder/producer Toshio Suzuki in 2016, he asked permission to make the story about himself. This took Suzuki — his friend of nearly 40 years at the time — by surprise; the legendary anime director isn’t known for getting so personal. And yet this aligned perfectly with the notion that Ghibli films are devoted to reliving memories.

“I agree that it is Miyazaki’s most personal film because he actually told me,” Suzuki told IndieWire over Zoom through an interpreter. Not only is “The Boy and the Heron” inspired by Miyazaki’s childhood (he endured the firebombing of Japan during World War II and his father was director of the family’s aircraft manufacturing factory), but also his career at Ghibli with his two closest friends: the late studio co-founder/director Isao Takahata (“Grave of the Fireflies”) and Suzuki.

“Miyazaki is Mahito [the 12-year-old protagonist voiced by Luca Padovan in the English-language version], Takahata is the great uncle [voiced by Mark Hamill], and the gray heron [voiced by Robert Pattinson] is me,” Suzuki added. “So I asked him why. He said [Takahata] discovered his talent and added him to the staff. I think Takahata san was the one who helped him develop his ability. On the other hand, the relationship between the boy and the [heron] is a relationship where they don’t give in to each other, push and pull.”

Collectively, it’s a lot to unpack: Miyazaki came out of retirement for the second time after “The Wind Rises” (2013) to make his 12th feature — the semi-autobiographical, hand-drawn fantasy for his grandchildren. It’s about destruction, loss, and rebuilding a better future through imagination, inspired by the novel he adored as a child (“How Do You Live?”).

Mahito loses his mother in the firebombing of Japan and relocates to the countryside, where his father (voiced by Christian Bale), who runs an air munitions factory, marries his sister-in-law, Natsuko (voiced by Gemma Chan). Traumatized, angry, and confused, the boy encounters a talking heron (part bird, part man), who tells him that his mother is still alive and guides him to an alternate world in a magical tower shared by the living and the dead. There he encounters his great uncle, the architect of the tower, and reunites with both his mother (voiced by Karen Fukuhara) and Natsuko.

At first, Suzuki resisted green-lighting “The Boy and the Heron” because of Miyazaki’s age (he’s 82) and the great expense (it is arguably Japan’s most expensive film but has made the equivalent of nearly $80 million at the country’s box office). Yet Miyazaki wore down his resistance with his enthusiasm and impressive storyboarding. The film took seven years to complete, and Suzuki needed to hire some of Japan’s most talented animators outside of Ghibli to handle the task (including supervising animator Takeshi Honda of “Neon Genesis Evangelion” fame). With diminished stamina and failing eyesight, Miyazaki was unable to oversee the production in the same manner as when he was at the height of his creative powers and relied on Honda to draw, redraw, and review under close advisement.

But with the death of Takahata in 20018, a grief-stricken Miyazaki was forced to scale back the role of the great uncle in the story, who had previously been more central to the boy’s life. “After Takahata passed away, he wasn’t able to continue with that story, so he changed the narrative and it became the relationship between the boy and the Heron,” Suzuki continued. “And in his mind, initially, the Heron was something that symbolizes the eeriness of the mansion and that tower, even ominous, that he goes to during war time. But he changed it to this sort of budding friendship between the boy and the Heron.”

Miyazaki first toyed with the idea of exploring the theme of friendship in “The Wind Rises” (inspired by real-life fighter design engineer Jiro Horikoshi during World War II) before abandoning it. “So this time around, when the Heron became the centerpiece of the story, and he came with the storyboards, I was careful for him to not portray me in a bad way,” Suzuki said. “Having said that, I’ve known Miyazaki for 45 years. I remember everything about him. There are things that only I know. There are things that only the two of us know. And he remembers all these small details, which I was very impressed with.”

For example, when Mahito and the Heron sit and chat at the house of Kiriko (voiced by Florence Pugh), a younger, seafaring version of one of the old maids, it is a recreation of the way Miyazaki and Suzuki would meet. “The place that we do our meetings, where we have our conversation is at his studio, his atelier,” he added. “And he has this like large table, but we don’t sit facing each other, we sit next to each other, and we never look at each other when we talk. And what we discussed was very similar.”

During production, Suzuki became impatient to see the new storyboards with the great uncle. It seemed Miyazaki was intentionally stalling while grieving about Takahata. “My question was: ‘So when is the great uncle going to appear?'” said Suzuki. “He built this great character, but he never appears in the storyboards that he would bring me. But it took him actually about a year after the passing of Takahata that he was able to draw that character into the storyboards in the second half of the story.

“And the most surprising thing for me was when I saw the storyboard where Mahito was asked by his great uncle to carry on with this work, this legacy, and he says no — he declines the offer. Miyazaki was someone who followed the path of Takahata for so many years, and I thought it was a huge thing for him [to follow a different path].”

Meanwhile, Suzuki confirmed that Miyazaki has not retired. The film has given the director renewed confidence to keep working on other stories. However, Miyazaki can’t focus on new ideas while “The Boy and the Heron” remains in theaters. “He needs to empty his mind again,” Suzuki said, “and then when he’s emptied his mind with a blank canvas, he usually comes up with new ideas. So we have to wait a little more.”

#studio ghibli #ghibli #hayao miyazaki #spirited away #boy and the heron

872 notes · View notes

st4rrth0ughts · 4 months

Note

Hello!!! Since I've been reading all of ur fics especially the hsr ones, I like it so much(⁠๑⁠♡⁠⌓⁠♡⁠๑⁠) . I don't know how you got the idea of it and it makes me feel giddy. If u may , can I request: I want to do unspeakable things to Welt Yang(I main him) like I wanna mark him, bite him, doing different positions, just mating non-stop, I don't know what to add for the reader, you can add tho if ya want, but I want the reader taller (⁠｡⁠・⁠/⁠/⁠ε⁠/⁠/⁠・⁠｡⁠). This is my first request btw (I apologize if I have the wrong grammar or the text of it)

Can I be your "❄️" anon? (⁠>⁠0⁠<⁠；⁠)

bestie no need to apologise that thought is so real (btw whats your team comp i need one for peepaw)

welt with a taller baker reader from the luofu 👓🦯

tw, cw: angst (reader is dead in hi3,) i dont play hi3, food play (occasionally feeding him some chocolates for being a good boy, nothing extreme), petplay, reader is immortal and thus is extremly confused on how Welt's vocal cords are working a/n: 1. what the fuck is a honkai 2. should i play hi3 3. does anyone hate feeding and fattening related kinks??? sorry but i just- cant even try and read those fics ngl the art makes it WORSE

welt loves you. at least, that's what he tells himself, seeing your counterpart work around in the luofu's famed bakery, having been years since he's held your dying body in his arms, sobbing as the light drained from your eyes. He's snapped out of his thoughts as you shoot him a friendly grin, gesturing the man and his two companions to come in. You look the exact same that he remembered you. But your not the same person. He cant just go in and try to convince you he's your lover from another universe, he'll look like a maniac! well, it seems the months of exchanging letters and gifts has won him the spot in your heart. Oh, and in your bed, as a bonus.

Sometimes, when Welt looks at your face, he feels like both crying and hugging you. You just- looked so much like your dead counterpart, from your eyes and hair, down to the way you fucked and handled him with so much care in bed. But he knows that you aren't them, never will be, in fact. And that's okay. He loves you in his own way, just like he loved them once. The man would never lump the two of you together, because you aren't them. (blade im looking at you)

But for now, he doesn't focus on that, simply relaxing in your hold, letting you unbutton his shirt, slide your hands over his underwear, your coarse but gentle voice sending shivers down his spine. A small whimper escapes his mouth as your finger teases his entrance, while you grin at how slick he already is, at least you dont have to find the lube. Lifting his thighs onto your shoulder, and licking that sweet pussy delicately, eliciting a delightful moan from the man, fisting your hair as he tries to grind weakly against you face.

This lovely man, for someone that's 82 years old- well, in human years? You were an immortal from the Luofu, humans are confusing. That being said, from what you've read, humans are more fragile in this state. How he was squealing and crying out in such a high pitched voice, arching his back as tears spill from his eyes as your tongue ravishes his pretty pussy, you figure that he's straining himself, just for you. How adorable, he's doing such a wonderful job. and good boys deserve a huge reward! Cooing softly as you push a small piece of chocolate in his mouth, watching him swallow it as he pants softly, a delirious smile on his face.

Grunting as you gently placed a collar around the man's neck, the leash's end gently clicking around the loop, smiling as he whines softly at the gentle pressure on his bite ridden neck. Pulling the leash closer, the bell jingling lightly as you pull him in for a sloppy kiss, free hand reaching down to fondle his nipples, watching the brunette throw his head back as he jerks from the stimulation, shrill shrieks escaping the man's mouth as he begs for your cock in him, to fill his cunt with your cum. He's been doing such a good job, he deserves the final prize.

Muffling his sobs as your cock pounds into him from behind, only for his head to be yanked back as you tut your tongue disapprovingly, his mind only registering about how he was being such a naughty little puppy, and that if he does that again, you'll just stuff a plug up his pussy, and leave him there, and he doesn't want that! So he's your good boy, eyes rolling back and tongue lolling out as he makes sounds that rival the top pornographic models you've seen. Aeons- you can practically feel your cock threathening to cum when he squirts for the nth time, kiss ridden thighs quivering as he begs so, so sweetly for you.

When you finally cum in him, he wails as he creams around your cock, weakly fucking himself back on you, pupils dilating as he weakly falls on the bed, ass in the air as your seed spills from his puffy cunt, overflowing as you coo softly, in that mocking, sugar coated voice as you line your shaft with his entrance again. The sheets were already soiled with the poor man's cum and sweat, as he screams in overstimulation, babbling about how he couldn't take anymore. Nonsense. He's swallowing your cock so greedily, your not falling for that.

#dom male reader #dom reader #sub honkai star rail #sub hsr #dom gn reader #sub character #honkai star rail smut #hsr smut #sub welt #sub welt yang #welt yang #welt x reader #welt yang x reader #welt yang smut #welt smut #peepaw i wanna fuck #✪anon!

531 notes · View notes

tryalittlejoytomorrow · 2 years

Text

it is the year of our lord 2022. 'the other side' by woodkid starts playing. i still cannot not think of bellarke. when will the torture ever end?

#Angèle babbles #that entire album is a masterpiece #but the other side particularly is a sucker punch #still cannot dissociate it from 1x13 tho #like i can still see that shot of bellamy and clarke #by the fire #after he puts it out #the smoke billowing #her little smile #his little nod #you did good here bellamy #18 dead #82 alive you did good #why does it live in my head forever #them leaving camp together as leaders #why #fuck my eidetic memory tbh

0 notes

thebibliosphere · 2 years

Text

I know Tumblr really hates the term "fandom mom" (and rightfully so for how many notable bnf authors abused it), but due to it looking like FF.net is going down, I've spent the last 24 hours rescuing old Star Wars fic from several old friends no longer alive to do so, and I'm having so many emotions.

These women were my fandom moms. They realized I was a young teen unsupervised online and told me the lay of the land and not to interact with anything or anyone that made me uncomfortable, including them. They encouraged me to write for myself, even if I never posted it. N was especially important to me (uuuugh not looking forward to editing that scene), and her fic was the first I backed up and then sent all of it in an email to her husband.

I'm not sure what a polite 82-year-old southern gentleman is going to do with roughly 300,000k of retro Star Wars whump, crack, and smut, but he's got it.

Meanwhile, I'm a sobbing wreck as I work my way through a bunch of Skytilles fanfic. Not because of the fics themselves, but the 'reviews.' It's seeing all those old names bantering and poking fun in the comments. Like ghosts in the machine. Except now the machine is going down, and soon there won't even be echoes.

I'm screen-capping them for myself. I'm not sure what I'll do with the other fics. Maybe I'll orphan them on Ao3 with their usernames credited.

Also, Genie, I don't know if you still have my blog on RSS, but if you do, drop me an email. I've got your fics, you old boot 💖. (P.S. please do not be dead. But if you are, come haunt me.)

#fanfic #fandom

5K notes · View notes

anonymousangstmonster · 3 months

Text

Prompt #82 “I can still come back”

The Fentons found out that a ghost was possessing their son.

They bring him to the lab and force him through the newly improved Fenton Ghost Catcher to separate the evil specter from Danny.

When he passed through they quickly locked up the ghost in a containment unit then went over to tend to their son.

But he wasn’t moving, his eyes were closed and his chest lay still. He wasn’t breathing. Maddie rushed to check his heartbeat, putting her ear to his chest.

But she couldn’t hear anything.

They were too late. He was gone.

Filled with grief, they decided the best thing to do was to lay him to rest. The Fentons had a giant furnace in the lab that they could cremate him in.

The ghost was horrified, it begged them not to do this, it told them that he could still come back, he could merge back as long as his body was still intact, that he wasn’t really dead.

It sobbed and pleaded and screamed for them not to burn him, to at least just bury his body whole. It called them ‘mom’ and ‘dad’.

They didn’t listen.

335 notes · View notes

witchpassing · 6 days

Text

interview_3aC

I got into piloting during the Third Generation. For the historically illiterate, that’s before the breakpoint, not after. Summer Offensive, Chelsk Offensive, ‘81, ‘82… All that shit.

When you say pilot now, people get a certain mental image. It wasn’t like that, back then; end of the day, a G3 frame is basically just another kind of tank. Hot like hell inside and full analogue control. You had to think five, six, seven seconds ahead sometimes, because that’s how long it’d take you to string together the inputs for what you were doing next.

I was good. I mean, I’m good at my job now, sure, but… you should’ve fuckin’ seen me then.

... Anyway. Long and short of it is, I got unlucky. Everyone does, sooner or later. Coterie railcannon caved in part of my cockpit, crushed my leg to dogmeat, and that was that. A few years later, they’d have amputated, plugged in a spare, and sent me back in, but this was ‘83, the tech wasn’t there yet. We were hearing about it, you know, shit on the grapevine about the brain-machine barrier, weird tests underground out in Lysk, but I don’t think any of us really believed in it.

I wanna say I knew what was coming, but I didn’t. Nobody did.

So. Cockpit breach. Fucked leg. They did a lot of work, got it to where I could walk on a good day, but it was obvious I wasn’t gonna cut it any more. Took my pension, checked out, spent eight years in the worst dyke bars I could find. Don’t really wanna talk about that part. That’s not what you’re here for, anyway.

So I’m a few years down the line, losing my mind somewhere in Sengrade, and I get a call. It’s this guy I used to know, I never really nailed down what he did, Information maybe, and he’s telling me about this program they’re spinning up over in Lysk, and sure that rings some alarm bells but what am I gonna do, say no? I don’t even need to hear the specifics, he’s trying to tell me it’s the next big jump in frame tech, it’s gonna win us the war, whatever, I’m already halfway onto a train.

The job turned out to be the Fifth Generation. Not only was the brain-machine barrier real, but they’d smashed clean through it. I said a G3 is basically a tank, right? So I was expecting an iteration on the form. Sharper, sleeker sure, but at the end of the day just a prettier-looking tank.

Well, I was dead fuckin’ wrong. Seeing something that size move that way, it’s… I don’t think I can put it into words. Go find a poet or something. Ask them what they think about Gen 5.

… Didn’t come for free, of course. The neural throughput on a machine that size will cook an unprepared brain like a fuckin’ egg. You need to be dosed to the gills on a whole cocktail of ten-syllable shit to take it for more than a few minutes, and the drugs make you weird. Horny, mostly - I’m sure you’ve heard about that - but you’re also looking at impaired impulse control, difficulty with long-term thinking, emotional disregulation, mania… Plus, there’s something in the cocktail or the link or both that is bastard habit-forming. You see them counting the hours between sorties. They adjust to the hyperstimulation, get calibrated to it, and then everything else is just too god-damn quiet.

Think maybe it’s carcinogenic, actually, but you didn’t hear that from me.

So, yeah. Weird. Command doesn’t want weird operating superweaponry. Weird doesn’t make sound tactical decisions. Which means all the shit that makes somebody a functioning soldier - the long-term decision making, the impulse control, the ability to give a fuck about the rules of engagement - it had to be outsourced.

The term they used at first was “special consultant”. Then “special consulting officer”, once we hit field testing. It wasn’t “handler” until later.

The first crop of us - I’m just gonna say handlers, I know how you’re gonna wanna spin this, I get it - were all ex-pilots. G3, mostly; Gen 4 didn’t leave a lot of material to work with. I guess the idea was we were the closest you could get to a G5 candidate’s frame of reference, but it was pretty clear within the first few months that that was bullshit. Some of us took to it, some of us washed out. A lot couldn’t take the wetwork, which I guess I can sympathise with.

Me, I handled it fine. Better than I should’ve, maybe. Being a tanker didn’t do shit for me, but my dad, he was a dog trainer, and… Yeah, well, you get the idea.

… No, no. The other kind of wetwork. You know what I mean.

…

The leg? Ha. Yeah, they offered me a prosthetic. ‘Course they did. But, call me a hypocrite, whatever you want - by that point I was six months in and I knew with total fuckin’ certainty I didn’t want the link. I spend enough of my time helping the military put their shit into peoples’ bodies, you know? I don’t want it walking home with me.

… No, I don’t understand why they keep signing up. Early days, sure, nobody knew what it did to you back then, but there’s been leaks, people’ve talked - hell, I’m talking right now. You can find our burnouts in any dive in the country, or what's fuckin' left of them. The candidates now, they know what we do to people here, and they just keep coming, and coming…

Though, you know… I think sometimes about the first time I saw a Gen 5 machine take off, that first day on the program. The way it moved against the blue-black of the sky, like it weighed nothing at all. And I almost get it.

#empty spaces #mechposting #this one's writing #microfiction

136 notes · View notes

fearnesbells · 5 months

Text

so about that laudna-has-no-future 4sd chat...

marisha ray has throwaway lines and that is her god given right like anyone else and truly this may mean nothing

BUT

me personally i bluescreened when marisha said "what does laudna have to look forward to, she's dead" in response to a question of would laudna rather make contact with her future or past self.

i think laudna and her evolving worldview over the course of this campaign is sooooooo interesting so thoughts under the cut

"the worst thing that’s ever happened to me has already happened."

we all remember this! this is the response that laudna gave to orym when he softly pointed out that laudna seemed like she had the most positive outlook of the group. it was a central tenet of laudna's character up until that point, that despite the darkness that coated her soul, she was probably the one with the most zest for life.

she tended to believe the best in npcs that the party encountered. she had a rat marionette that got boners and made her laugh. she was wholeheartedly devoted to imogen and never, never believed that the end was the end.

and then, when orym asked her how she accomplished that, she responds in a framing of perspective.

she was murdered by the briarwoods at twenty years old. how can anything seem awful in comparison to that?

she died, and then she got to join an adventuring party. she died, and then she got to use her strange, eerie powers for good. she died, and then she met imogen.

she has hope because she's seen the lowest possible point her life can come to, and can only climb upwards from there.

she had a hope for a future, because of this. a good future. at least one that was better than the worst thing that had ever happened to her. and that future included imogen—

"can keep you from that. can keep us from that."

she had hope.

we all know this quote. this quote is the cottagecore lesbian life that marisha spoke to in four-sided dive. but i think to look at where laudna's at now, and to understand "what does laudna have to look forward to, she's dead", we have to look at the quote in greater context.

laudna is speaking to a possible future here. but in her words she's also saying that she understands that that future might mean abandoning what they feel called to do by the gods. in this moment, she's not guaranteeing a future, she's explaining to imogen that they have a choice.

and as of now, episode 82, arrived on the moon, they've made that choice. they're orpheus. they've descended into hell, and they can't look back if they want to make it out.

it's important to note that laudna wasn't lying way back in heartmoor when she was talking to orym. the worst thing that could ever happen to her had already happened. but she was operating then on her very human understanding of the world.

since then, she's died (again), been resurrected, seen magic beyond comprehension, and surrendered herself over to the spirit of her murderer that lives in her head.

there are no rules anymore. and laudna has learned that there is always something worse.

the quiet life she talked about with imogen might have been taken from her forever. the narrative has grown teeth and it has sunk them into both her and the woman she loves.

"what does laudna have to look forward to, she's dead"

she's orpheus, yeah? we know how this story ends. her love's been called to the hell planet by fate. she won't get out without losing something.

maybe—maybe—there's still hope for that cottage together somewhere. i don't mean to rule it out entirely. but i think that laudna herself, the character, has lost all belief in that possibility at this point. and that presents such a foil to the laudna that we met in episode 1.

sometimes the tragedy comes built-in.

even if. even when.

(all quotes pulled from critical role wiki's transcripts page)

128 notes · View notes

just-late-roman-republic-things · 4 months

Text

Common Misconceptions About the End of the Roman Republic

Julius Caesar was not born by Caesarean section. Romans only performed that procedure on dead mothers, and Caesar's mother definitely lived another 40+ years.

Julius Caesar was almost certainly not Marcus Brutus' father. He was only 15 years older than Brutus, and Servilia was married to someone else.

Caesar's electoral campaign for 59 BCE was funded by his intended co-consul, Lucius Lucceius, not by Crassus. Although Crassus probably loaned Caesar money at other times.

It is not clear whether Caesar and Pompey used armed intimidation to get their legislation passed in 59 BCE, as neither of them had an army at this time, no contemporary source charges Caesar with political violence during his consulship, and only some of their proposed bills actually passed. See Robert Morstein-Marx's Julius Caesar and the Roman People for more.

Caesar was not an ideologue or demagogue, nor was his legislation particularly radical or populist. He was neither a "voice of the working man" nor a fascist. However, the methods he used to get what he wanted, and his refusal to back down at critical moments, were controversial and sometimes illegal.

Caesar was probably not behind the Vettius affair, considering that Vettius had previously attempted to get Caesar killed.

Caesar was also almost certainly not a member of the Catilinarian conspiracy; in fact, he assisted Cicero's investigation of it.

The "first triumvirate" was not an official group in the same way the second triumvirate was, nor did it overwhelmingly dominate Roman politics. Most of the triumvirs' legislation failed after the first half of 59 BCE, and most of their electoral candidates were unsuccessful.

Caesar didn't conquer all of Gaul, since the Romans already ruled the southern coast and Cisalpine Gaul.

Caesar landed on Britain, twice, but did not conquer it.

The Gauls were not "savages," but a diverse and sophisticated collection of tribes with their own agriculture, political systems, artwork, trade networks and more.

Caesar's Gallic Commentaries are mostly reliable for concrete events and dates, but less so for distances, troop numbers, and people's motivations. The Civil War Commentaries are even more biased.

There was probably no serious threat of Caesar being prosecuted if he entered Rome without imperium. His conquest of Gaul had been highly popular (with the Romans) and his laws had been repeatedly upheld by the Senate. See Morstein-Marx again.

Caesar did not go to war "against the Senate" or "against the republic." The Caesarian and Pompeian factions in the Senate were roughly equal in size, and the overwhelming majority of senators preferred peace over either one.

Caesar did not say "The die is cast" or any variant of it while crossing the Rubicon. He had already sent troops into Italy, and the Senate had begun military action against him over a month before.

The civil war of 49 BCE was caused by a mutual breakdown between Caesar, Pompey, and other factions in the Senate, not solely by one man.

Caesar and Pompey's falling-out was not caused by the death of Crassus or Caesar's daughter Julia, which happened years before any evidence of a rift appeared.

Most of the Pompeians were not fighting "for the republic," and Cicero expected a dictatorship to occur no matter which side won.

Caesar was not the first dictator of Rome, or even its first dictator for life; the first dictator for life was Lucius Cornelius Sulla in 82 BCE.

Caesar also wasn't the first Roman general to march on Rome. That's Sulla again, or possibly Coriolanus if you believe he was real.

There is no evidence that Roman armies considered themselves more loyal to their commanders than to the republic until very, very late in Caesar's civil war, when we first hear of soldiers calling themselves "Caesarians" in Spain. Caesar, Pompey, Marius, and Sulla all had to argue their political legitimacy to their troops before they could make them fight other Romans. See Erich Gruen's Last Generation of the Roman Republic for details.

Caesar was killed in the Theater of Pompey; the Senate house had been burned down years before.

Caesar's last words are unknown, although classical sources suggest "Kai su, teknon?" (You too, my son?), "Casca, what are you doing?" "Why, this is violence!" and silence as possibilities.

Caesar is not usually categorized as an emperor by modern sources, but some ancient writers like Suetonius did.

Augustus was not born in August, but in September.

Octavian never went by Octavian. First he was Gaius Octavius (Thurinus), then Gaius Julius Caesar (Octavianus), then added "Divi Filius" and "Augustus" and eventually replaced the first two words with "Imperator."

Cleopatra probably was not killed by a snakebite. She had much more reliable and less painful poisons available.

Cleopatra was not the last pharaoh of Egypt. The last native Egyptian pharaoh was Nectanebo II, the last Ptolemaic pharaoh was Caesarion (Ptolemy XV), and the last Roman emperor recognized as pharaoh was Maximinus Daza.

Augustus' reputation as a coward comes from his enemies. He fought numerous battles throughout his career, including the two he was accused of ducking, Mutina and Philippi. (He fought in the second confrontation for each one.)

Augustus didn't declare himself ruler of Rome. Although he was de facto the ruler, he was officially just "the first citizen" (princeps), a concept that long predated him.

Although initially patricians were the aristocratic class, by the late republic they made up only a minority of the aristocracy; the rest were wealthy plebeian families.

The Senate could not pass laws on its own during the late republic; its legislation had to be ratified by the People's Assembly.

The Roman government was not as democratic as most modern republics, with much less of the population represented, but it did have some popular influence on government policy, and public demonstrations and protests were common.

Roman politicians do not fit into modern political movements like socialism, fascism, or liberalism, or into stable parties like democrats or republicans. Roman politics was driven mainly by personal alliances and rivalries rather than by ideologies.

Although the "Roman empire" is sometimes used to refer to the period when Rome had emperors, Rome had an empire-like system of provinces, conquest, and tribute as early as after the First Punic War in 241 BCE. Julius Caesar and Augustus initiated a change in how Rome was governed, but they did not create Roman imperialism.

Roman women played an active role in politics, particularly in coordinating marriage alliances, communication networks, advocating on behalf of their families, public protests, and diplomatic negotiations behind the scenes.

The late republic was very ethnically and religiously diverse, with many Roman citizens descended from Greeks, Africans, Gauls, Jews, Iberians, and other groups. Mixed marriages and multilingualism were common.

Romans did not categorize sexuality by gender attraction, and most Roman men would not have identified as what we now call heterosexual. See Roman Homosexuality by Craig Williams for details.

Most famous Roman monuments, like Trajan's column and the Colosseum, date to after republican times. During Cicero's era the city was mostly brick and wood.

Historians do not agree on why, or when exactly, the republic "fell." Not all of them believe it was "doomed," either. It's likely that many connected factors, and random chance, played a part.

Suggested sources for learning more:

SPQR: A History of Ancient Rome, by Mary Beard

Cato the Younger: Life and Death at the End of the Roman Republic, by Fred Drogula

Cicero: The Life and Times of Rome’s Greatest Politician, by Anthony Everitt

Augustus: First Emperor of Rome, by Adrian Goldsworthy

Julius Caesar and the Roman People, by Robert Morstein-Marx

Historia Civilis

The History of Rome podcast by Mike Duncan

Everything on my recommendations page

#putting all these in one place for convenience. may add more as i think of them #jlrrt essays #historiography

143 notes · View notes

blues824 · 7 months

Note

Hello I've seen that you have been getting a lot of requests

But could I request : twst housewardens with nico di angelo/reader, that reader tells them that they're son/daughter of hades and their power? And maybe the battle of labyrinth(feel free to ignore ☺)

Gender-neutral reader (male reader-coded, but anyone can read as there are no gender-specific terms used). English Server player here, btw.

Riddle Rosehearts

You were the only one possibly in the entirety of Twisted Wonderland who could revive the dead… even if they were to do your bidding. Yeah, he was definitely freaked out when you cracked the ground open and made a bunch of cadavers and skeletons attack him while he was overblotting.

Riddle can tell that you have been through a lot of pain. He did not know the extent of that pain until he saw you at the fountain, throwing in a drachma and conversing with your sister’s ghost. You only had one tear slip down your face when you noticed that the tyrannical housewarden was watching. You quickly recovered before using the shadows to travel back to Ramshackle.

It wasn’t until later where he learned about your backstory, and holy shit have you gone through a lot. Chronologically, you were 82, but you had the physical appearance of a 15 year old. You were physically younger than he was. You told him that it was because you spent 70 years in a casino, but this just managed to confuse him more.

Anyways, you first came off to him as rude and distant, which he could understand because you ended up in Twisted Wonderland. You first thought you were hallucinating or put under a hallucination by a god or goddess you weren’t aware of. That being said, you didn’t get close to anyone because you were scared that you could be brought out of the hallucination at any point. However, you started getting closer to a certain red-headed housewarden as he extended a cup of tea “olive branch”.

Leona Kingscholar

When you stepped on his tail in the botanical gardens that day, he was annoyed as we all know. However, since you were in your Battle of the Labyrinth era, you were not about to take the shit he threw at you. Maybe if you were younger, but not now. You were pissed off at Percy and you were on a mission to get out of Twisted Wonderland as soon as possible.

He doesn’t really care that you are a more private person. However, when he sees you display some of your abilities, he does get a bit curious. Like, for example, you opened up the ground and had skeletons attack him while he was overblotting. He easily turned them into sand, but it was still surprising. He had never met anyone who could do that before, as magic in Twisted Wonderland could not do that.

But, there was one time where he was coming back from a Housewarden meeting, and he saw you putting a strange coin into the fountain while you were speaking to an apparition. He hid behind a pillar and saw that there was a figure on the ledge of the fountain. You turned around and Leona saw a tear slide down your face before you melted into the shadow that the fountain cast.

Leona eventually learned of your backstory by Ruggie running around and seeing what he could find about you. You were actually 82 years old, which definitely added to the small pile of “Things that Actually Surprised the Housewarden of Savanaclaw”. You had never actually celebrated your birthday by a birthday party. The apparition he saw in the fountain was your deceased sister. He feels like shit for the way he has treated you thus far.

Azul Ashengrotto

As we know, he was present during Leona’s overblot. So he sees that you can summon a dead army. And he definitely wants to get that under a contract that will put him at an advantage over the dead. However, you have already been in this situation. You were not about to be under someone else’s control again.

That being said, your fatal flaw made its appearance and you held a grudge against Azul. You would go out of your way to not come within six feet of this man. You started making your own meals and you would travel via the shadows. The cecaelia noticed, and he started to feel kind of bad… and so he asked the tweels to find information on you in exchange for less hours for an entire week.

They came up with a lot of things, actually. You were the descendent of Hades, the brother of the father of the King of the Sea. That is how you got your powers. It wasn’t magic at all. You had a full biological sister who joined the Hunters of Artemis group, but died. You were fighting gods and titans left and right… and you were still physically only 15 years old.

Unfortunately for you, your powers did not come in handy when you fought against his overblot. However, your sword did, as well as the potion that allowed you to breathe underwater. You’ve had plenty of experience with fighting in water, so you were well-versed and thus defeated him rather easily. You called him an amateur, stating that one of your fellow demigods at Camp Half-Blood would have posed a better challenge, which made his ego take critical damage.

Kalim Al-Asim

You cannot tell me that this man is not the Will Solace to your Nico di Angelo. However, unlike Will, Kalim does not have the power to heal anybody via singing a song. He is no archer. He has no super powerful whistle. He can’t put anyone under a ‘couplets curse’. He can’t emit a divine glow. He can’t shoot rays of light. He can’t change the seasons. He can’t control diseases. But he is still yours.

Because of the way he is, you physically can’t hold a grudge against him. But you are suspicious of the Vice Housewarden. You stick to the shadows and listen in on private conversations. Not like Kalim would ever believe you, but you have done what you could to prevent an uprising against him.

During Jamil’s overblot, you were actually able to defeat him rather easily, surprising Kalim. Sure, you were sent into the desert, but you were able to travel in the shadows that the dunes of sand cast. You were actually able to take everyone and travel faster. However, that left you drained, but you knew you had to keep fighting. Using the last of your strength, you summoned a skeletal army, and then your vision started to get dark.

Kalim ended up waking you up in the infirmary. He was crying and pleading with you to forgive him for not believing you all along. You were kind of confronted and put on the spot, wanting him not to make a noise and cause a scene. You patted his head kind of awkwardly, and he was so happy to see that you have forgiven him and that everything was going to be okay since you were awake now.

Vil Schoenheit

You looked like a corpse, and Vil was not afraid to point it out. You bit back and stated that because you were a child of Hades, God of the Underworld, it was understandable that you looked less than alive. That started a beautiful hateship between the two of you, as he’s trying to fix your eyebags and you’re trying to fix his attitude. You didn’t even know much about Neige, but you said something along the lines of, “it’s no wonder that everyone likes him over you.”

Anyways, Vil has sent Rook to go dig up some dirt that he could use against you. The hunter found out many heartbreaking things that made the Housewarden feel horrible about the things he has said about you. You were doing all of this just for Bianca, your deceased sister, because she told you that you needed to move on as she moved on to Elysium.

When he overblots, you already have enough experience. Your sword has the ability to absorb darkness, and guess what the ink is? Anyways, you used your sword to absorb some of the ink, which weakened the overblotting mess. It was a relatively easy takedown, and you just left silently after. Again, your fatal flaw poked through, and you only helped because of Epel and Rook and how you were friends with them.

In the infirmary, Vil woke up right when you dropped off a single get-well gift. It was a small vase with just one stem of lavender as well as an olive branch. Just one, as you wanted to be stingy, but you wanted to be better than your fatal flaw. You wanted to show that you weren’t unsympathetic, so you extended this purple olive branch and the actual olive branch. Vil knew the language of plants all too well, and he got the message.

Idia Shroud

You both are shut-ins, you both are nerds… It's a match made in the Underworld. Nah, but all jokes aside, you both hated each other at first. You would debate each other on every single fact from any given Fandom. But you were good friends with Ortho, even if you did dislike the fact that he was so naive. He reminded you of yourself in the beginning of your demigod journey, and you did not like remembering all of that.

Anyways, Idia is going total cyber-stalker. He is trying to find something he can fight against you with, kind of like a Redditor. What he did manage to find was depressing and sad, and also made him feel like shit. Hearing about Bianca made him clutch onto Ortho more and appreciate having him, as not everyone could have such a good replacement as his robotic younger brother was for his dead older brother.

When he overblotted, you were just tired at this point. However, Idia proved to be much more of a challenge than you had originally thought. By this point, the Housewarden of Ignihyde had analyzed your powers as a child of Hades as well as thought about any other hidden powers you may or may not have, and prepared accordingly. You couldn’t shadow-travel at all and you couldn’t use the ground for whatever reason (Idia had used magic to keep you from doing so).

It was depending on your assholes of friends that allowed you to win, because the one thing that the flame-haired 18-year-old didn’t expect was for you to suck it up and forget your grudges against Ace just to beat his ass. So, he was left vulnerable as you acted as a weird diversion, using his love for a certain anime against him as you shouted a complete hot-take that he definitely did not agree with.

Malleus Draconia

Hey, look everybody! It’s the social rejects! I’m just playing… kind of. You both tend to emit an aura that can be portrayed as frightening to others. The only difference was that your aura was intentional, and it even managed to give Sebek a spook sometimes. However, it did not deter Malleus from reaching out to you and extending an olive branch. That was the start of a beautiful relationship between the two of you.

I have a headcanon that this dragon prince is kind of like a goth version of Will Solace. You can confide in him during your nightly walks, and he is not going to judge you for it. You have actually told him about your older sister and her untimely death, and while he did try to tell you that it wasn’t Percy’s fault and you weren’t hearing it, you secretly knew that it was true and it was just your fatal flaw that kept you from forgiving Jackson.

Speaking of confiding within him, you’ve also told him that you were scared that he was going to overblot. He was so attached to his retainers as well as you and Lilia that it would be wrong to qualify this fear as anything but rational. Malleus understood, as you’ve already had to fight six overblots in the relatively short amount of time you’ve been in Twisted Wonderland, and you’ve had to solve the familial issues of an arsonist (Rollo Flamm).

Your fluency in Greek fascinated Malleus, as Greek was not a common language that was spoken. He had no idea what or where ‘Greece’ was, but he was also interested in learning about Hades as well as your [distant] cousins, who were the other demigods at Camp Half-Blood. Then, there was an entire other demigod camp called Camp Jupiter, and you were kind of a ghost story between the two. You, in turn, listened to his silly little rants about gargoyles, as you believed that there needed to be a healthy exchange in interests within the relationship.

251 notes · View notes