#...may allow me to become the dependable man I wish to be

[kazuma-asogi-blog]

What are some things you are thankful for?

I am thankful to have a path to follow and to be actively working toward a new goal. I'm also thankful for my friends, and those who have supported me in this pursuit.

[filmtv2022]

Part II: Our Time is Limited (18+)

Part One

Pairing: Geta x reader & platonic!Caracalla x reader

Synopsis: Geta and you deal with the aftermath of Caracalla's outburst, finding comfort in each other. Not only is there Caracalla's illness to attend to, but those who surround the emperors are growing more and more weary of their reign. As loyalty wanes, so does the inner circle's patience with your ever-constant presence and the emperors' hot tempers. With so much at stake the balance between keeping the peace and protecting those you love becomes muddy.

Warnings: sexual activity/smut + alcohol consumption + wounds/wound care

A/N: Well, this took a while to write, and I feel like there is more I want to add to this story. So, be on the lookout for part 3 (There may even be a few more parts if it continues to be well received)! I truly cannot say how thankful I am for the response to part 1. I felt the love for sure! So thank you to everyone who read that and has stuck with me here! And as always, please forgive me for any and all mistakes. We're going for a "fun" time... not always a historically accurate time!

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No light apart from the moon illuminated the grand bed chamber of the emperor upon your waking. Depending on how it was considered, the hour was either incredibly early or late. No sound could be heard from the hall or the open balcony. The silence should have been comforting, but a nagging pit in your stomach kept you from returning to sleep. A chill had collected in the air. Reprieve from its sting came in the form of Geta’s study frame tangled with yours beneath the luscious sheets. His body produced heat like a raging fire whose flames were fed with rage and the desperate clamber for power.

His protective warmth painted your skin in a heavy flush. Your head tipped back to stare at the man whose body melded with yours in a way that surely must have been crafted by the gods. Like this, lost to sleep, Geta’s youth was easy to see. The healthy glow of his unmarred skin was alluring, drawing your hand from under the covers you traced delicate patterns over his toned chest. Tension in your hip forced you to adjust yourself. Shifting your weight, you accidentally brushed the wound on your cheek. The sudden flash of fresh pain rippled in erratic shocks down the tender column of your throat causing you to hiss. Beside you, Geta stirred in his sleep. 

Uncomfortable and fighting back the multitude of possibilities that flooded your mind, you gave in to the reality that returning to sleep was growing less and less likely. Prone to fitful sleep, even with the sedative, Caracalla was sure to begin fighting his forced slumber sooner rather than later. As carefully as you could, you tried to extricate yourself from Geta’s embrace. You’d managed to free your bare thighs from between his own when the groggy grumble of his voice stopped you cold. 

“Where are you going?” He reached for you, hauling you back before finally opening his eyes. Your chest sat flush with his, and your good cheek rested on him, as his feather-light touch sought any part of you he could reach. The shapes he drew were hypnotizing, jumbling the words in your head. Concerned by your lack of reply, Geta rolled you on your back, allowing him to see your entire face as he rested his weight over part of your body. “It’s early. Stay with me a few hours more.” 

“You know as well as I do the fickle nature of the sedative. I do not wish for him to wake alone. He can be… He can be so scared and lost without a familiar face to ground him when he comes to.” Messy strands of hair stuck to his forehead, tempting you to fix them. With a ghosting touch, you brushed them away from his face. The rich hue of his eyes followed your every move. 

“And you will be there when he needs you, but that is not now. For now, I need you… here… in my bed.” He followed his thought with the trail lips between your breasts. Each graze was accompanied by a tender bite, leaving behind more evidence of the night only he’d be blessed enough to see.  Geta continued to move lower, tasting every inch of skin he could find before pausing to look back at you through hooded lids. The arch of your spine sent heat washing over him.

Struggling to breathe properly, you reached for any part of him you could find. The flare of pleasure that overtook you as Geta came closer to where you wanted him was blinding. With eyes screwed shut, you couldn’t keep the huff of laughter from escaping as you spoke, “You are insatiable, emperor.” 

Nipping at your hipbone he murmured against flushed skin. “I am making up for lost time.” Threading your deft fingers through his messy copper locks, you gripped at the root and tugged roughly earning you a delicious hum. Geta's focus became entirely on drawing those delicious noises from you once more, and to that end he was successful. Gooseflesh ran over your body as chilled air drifted all around. With nothing between you and the emperor, you fell completely to his mercy and desire. 

Geta’s shoulders dipped lower allowing him to wrap one defined arm around your thigh while the other explored the marks he’d created earlier. From his position, he could feel the way your body quaked under his touch. The power he had over you with just the help of his tongue and calloused fingers threw every unwanted thought and worry to the side. This was all he wanted, all he’d ever desired. What once remained fantasy was now freely given. 

A particularly well-placed kiss had you rolling your hips searching for more. Geta’s teasing no longer satisfied the well of lust that threatened to drown you alive. On instinct, your hold tightened, hauling a rumbling groan from him that nearly eclipsed the pitful whimper in which you begged.

“Geta… Please…”

Skimming along your body with his own, he felt the buttery expanse of your skin. Your pebbled breasts pressed into his chest as his breath ghosted in your ear. “Use your words, tell me what you crave.”

“I want you. I want to feel-.” You were cut off by the drag of his fingertips along your most sensitive of skin. The nerves there fired in quick succession, leaving you to focus on the journey his mouth took along the slope of your shoulder. Unsatisfied, yearning for the weight of him, you reached between you. The fragile strength of your trembling fingers wrapped around his cock. Rolling your wrist, Geta shivered. His hips twitched ruining his self-control.

“Then you shall have me.” Were it not for his desperation to fulfill your every wish, he could have stayed like this and let you bring him to his release with just the delectable skill of your hand. Without fanfare, Geta moved quickly, the firm press of him hard against your core had you moaning in anticipation. His lips captured yours in a devouring kiss pulling the focus from the pressure that built as he pressed into you. Your plush walls spasmed in time with the roll of his hips into your own. Tongues and teeth clashed in a fight for control. Even here, where he felt the most vulnerable as if his soul was laid bare for you to consume, he clung to the power that acted as a crutch in his daily life. But the fight was a losing battle.

Geta’s eye fluttered shut, closing him off from you as he buried his countenance into the crook of your neck, and that simply wouldn’t do. You knew this part of him, the boy, now man, that retreated inside himself when things grew too much.  The bold and confident facade he put on for the public was a disguise that few had been able to decipher... apart from you. Tenderly, you traced the length of his spine, paying attention to the way he shuddered under your touch. Much softer than before, you wound your fingers through his hair while guiding his brow to your own.

“Look at me. Do not hide from me now.”  Your words enveloped him, easing him back to the present and away from whatever tried to steal him from you. Carefully Geta met your eyes. Their normal severity was absent, replaced with the soft haze of adoration. 

“I love you.” The tender confession tumbled from your lips, and the truth of it shattered the last vestiges of the barrier that ran between you. All walls had been abandoned. The steady snap of his thrusts brought the pair of you closer to oblivion. Together you fell, the steady crash of energy over every nerve filled the space with heady moans of pleasure. 

Too soon for your liking the moment waned, leaving you breathless and weak beneath him. Geta rested his weight along his forearms to prevent crushing you. From his position, he watched a new line of crimson spill down your cheek. The sight of it brought a flood of unwanted emotions swirling in his stomach.

“You're bleeding again.” His voice wobbled with exhaustion and worry. The thick pad of his thumb brushed away the evidence, smearing the dried blood from hours before with the bright hue of that which flowed currently. From this proximity, Geta got a truer picture of your condition. Deep patches of black and purple bloomed across your cheek and brow, but that was not what fumbled the rhythm of his heart.

The hidden outline of fingers around the base of your throat undid him. Masked by the layer of dried ichor that coated your throat he saw the depth of his brother’s illness. Never had he imagined Caracalla would be capable of hurting you in this way. The slice of a blade had been beyond reason, but his hand around your throat… that was unconscionable. 

Rage burned hot, the flare of his nostrils timed with the heavy rise and fall of his chest as he tried to calm himself. You knew without a doubt the thoughts that sped through his mind. Anger, disbelief, sorrow but most of fury. “I will never let him lay his hands upon you again.” 

“Please, don’t make promises you can’t keep, Geta.” Something new flashed in his eyes as he looked down at you, and the sight of it broke tender and soft. “Even you cannot keep me safe from him, not entirely. I want to believe that everything wrong about our lives will right itself in time, but that is a childish, fool-hardy thought. Even you cannot deny that.”

“Why? This is… what we share… Why cannot we find a way out of this mess together? Shouldn’t we be allowed happiness?” The same reasoning from the night before returned. A pitiful well of dampness pooled at the corners of his eyes. The dejected young man who looked to others for reassurance in everything he did bore himself to you fully.  “I can keep you safe. Do you trust me?” 

“With my life.” You reached for him, pulling his lips to yours in a sympathetic and calming embrace. It lasted just long enough for his breathing to settle and his mind to slow. Gently, Geta shifted his weight away from your body giving you space to recover. Torn from his steadying presence, you rolled onto your side following him with your gaze as he slipped from the bed. He pulled a robe from the floor and wrapped it around himself.  Exhaustion crossed your vision and dulled your mind, lulling you closer to sleep. Only the gentle clink of glass against glass kept you from falling away entirely.  

Geta returned to you quickly, his hands full of what appeared to be vials of acetum and honey, two clean cloths resting over his wrist. Finding a spot to deposit the vials on the bed, he took one of the rags. With some hesitation, he reached between your plush thighs, wiping away the mess the pair of you'd made. The sudden jolt of your hips as he reached your core slowed his hand, easing the strength with which he worked. Your weight settled back into the plush sheets as he finished and discarded the cloth upon the flood.

“Sit up.” His words were tender,  holding none of the desperation from before. Following his command,  you lifted yourself from the comfort of the bed, the sheets crumpled further under your movement. Geta’s eyes raked over your body, admiring the swell of your bare breasts and the curve of your waist. A glint of something more akin to lust was shown briefly before he settled into the space next to you. With practiced care and thoughtful hands, the emperor cleansed your wounds and removed the remnants of dried blood. Your focus never left his face as he worked. Instead, you took the time to memorize the tug of concentration between his brows. Deep lines formed there creating a picture of what was to come, of an older Geta, of an emperor marked by the passage of time. You prayed the gods would favor you, for that was a vision you prayed to see in person. 

“There, that’s better.” Geta twisted to discard the vials and cloth upon the nearby stand. “Come, let us sleep. The day is sure to be long enough without the edge of weariness dulling our minds.” 

Slowly, you sank back into each other’s arms, your bodies together in perfect harmony as sleep overtook the pair of you.

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Fresh morning light seeped into the sea of curtains around the bed chamber. Were it not for the pressing knaw of anxiety, you’d have happily stayed curled in Geta’s arms. But that was not a possibility. Knowing that time was running short to return to Caracalla before he woke, you extricated yourself from the comfort of your lover's embrace. 

The marble was startlingly cold beneath your feet forcing you to work quickly to find your discarded robe. The memory of the night before was stunningly clear making it easy to find your blood-stained clothes. Stooping, you grabbed the creamy fabric, shoving your arms inside before tying it tightly around your waist. 

You chanced a glance over your shoulder at Geta who was still peaceful in his bed. Without further hesitation, you disengaged the lock and made your way into the mostly empty hall. Only two guards remained posted to protect the emperor. Thankfully, the comings and goings of women from Geta’s chamber were nothing new. Your presence there may have been different from the norm, but it was hardly shocking given the previous night’s difficulties. 

Your bare footsteps, pounded down the hallway toward Caracalla, praying to the gods that you’d find him asleep. Rounding the corner, you watched as the guards parted to allow you into the room. There were no questions or need to exchange words, this room had been your home for more than a decade. Not a soul would question your presence inside. 

Caracalla’s living quarters were nearly as extravagant as his brothers. The only strange addition was that of his pet monkey who sat alert on the table, gnawing at the fresh fruit that had been placed there the night before for his consumption. Dundus chirped at your arrival, announcing it to his still-slumbering owner. Curled in a ball on his side, the emperor lay oddly upon the covers.

There was nothing comfortable or dignified about how he was left. With soft steps, you made your way to him. His chest rose and fell in shallow waves marking the hold the medication still had upon his mind. Much the same as his brother, he looked far younger in sleep, and yet with Caracalla, the evidence of his poor health would never fully disappear. The sores on his face had broken through the remnants of the makeup on his tear-stained cheeks. A measure of guilt flooded your veins, churring the acid in your empty stomach and forcing you into action. 

Beside the vanity sat a pitcher of clean water and a rag you’d readied before things fell apart the previous evening. It had become your nightly ritual to clean Caracalla’s face of the day’s makeup before covering each mark upon his skin with acetum and honey. It kept the bond between you strong as you were the only person he allowed to care for him in that way.

Coming face to face with the mirror, you did your best to avoid your reflection, but ignoring it was nearly impossible. Your fingers wrapped around the pitcher as you poured it into the empty bowl that sat in the center of the flat surface. The motion was done on instinct giving you time to assess your injuries personally. 

A deep purple swath had formed around your eye, seeping down below the slash that marked your cheekbone. The bruise throbbed with every flick of your eye, but it was the deep cut that truly pained you. A thin line of dried blood sat in the wound creating a gruesome visage. Nothing could hide the terrifying mark of the fingers that had closed around your throat before the final attack. Even in the light of day, you could feel their presence as though the hand remained heavy against you.

Glancing dead ahead into the mirror, the most terrifying part of all was not the injuries, it was not knowing who would wake up and rejoin the world when Caracalla rose. The pitcher clanked against the stone as you sat it down to grab the cloth. Dampening the thin fabric, you wrung it out and collected the vial of acetum and jar of honey to soothe his sores before returning to the emperor. There was just enough space on the edge of the bed for you to sit near his head. With gentle strokes, you cleansed his face, being sure to give extra care to spots of broken skin. Free of the mask, the progression of his illness became more apparent. Using the same rag, you dabbed the acetum on each of the marks before following with the golden liquid in the hope that it would provide some relief.  

It took only minutes for you to finish caring for the emperors’s needs, but it felt like an eternity. Part of you hoped he would wake as you worked but another part of you prayed he would continue to rest. Discarding the rag and other supplies nearby, you found yourself gravitating toward Caracalla’s slumbering frame. A deep ache radiated deep in your soul, gripping you tightly in an unrelenting hold. No matter how far he’d fallen, no matter the faults of his mind, this man would forever be yours. He’d forever be the one who captured your heart first and for that, you were eternally grateful. 

The bridge of your nose burned as you fell into his presence. The clean scent of his robes mixed with the bitter tang of wine that clung to him.  Fearful of letting him go, you wrapped an arm around his side and hauled yourself close. Your fists twisted into the flowing fabric at his back as you hid your face in his chest. Shrouded in him, your lungs hitched, tears streamed in searing lines down your cheeks, stinging the raw skin around your wound. But that was secondary to the hole that grew in your heart every time you allowed yourself to contemplate Caracalla's remaining time. 

Hours slipped away unnoticed, leaving the pair of you to while away the minutes in each other’s arms. In time, the gods must have favored your first desire, for as the blinding rays of early morning crept toward midday, Caracalla stirred beside you. Uncertain of what was to come, you kept your visage concealed.

“Good morning, my love. How does the new day find you?” Your voice trembled with worry as you watched him push to sit beside you. A hazy fog slowed his mind and his speech, forcing you to be patient as he reached out to touch your cheek. His brows pulled together in concern at the sight. The soft brush of his fingertips over the cut sent fresh lances of hurt zinging down your neck. Still silent, Caracalla watched the way you recoiled from him before attempting to speak. 

“You are injured. Who hurt you?” There was so much innocence in his eyes. Without question, there was no memory of the previous night, and for that you were thankful. Caracalla knowing that he’d caused you this pain would have done nothing but burden an already fragile man with more turmoil. 

You shook your head, hoping to shove off the worry as best you could. “No one hurt me. I decided to venture to the baths after too much wine. I lost my footing and slipped. It is my fault.” With what little strength you could muster, you sat up fully beside him. 

“Does it hurt terribly?” He took your hand and held it in his lap.

“No, not terribly.” Your free hand rose to hold his cheek, “I promise.” Quiet fell over the pair you allowing Caracalla to trace the map of bruises that marred your neck. Even he noticed the odd shape of the marks low upon your throat. You could see the thought teeter on his lips for a moment before the words tumbled from him so childlike and sincerely. Nearly the same words his brother had spoken to you just hours earlier.

“I will always protect you, you must know that.” He held your gaze tightly in his, running his thumb over the back of your hand while he waited for you to respond. 

“I do. I do.” And the falsehood of your reply brought fresh tears to your eyes. Despite the many factors that stood between you and the happy life you'd once thought possible with Caracalla, you loved him beyond reason. Even though you were losing your best friend in real-time to an illness that was as mysterious in its origin as in its timeline of destruction, you trusted him. He’d stood by your side, welcoming you into the fray all those years ago. Never did he shame your lack of knowledge about the way things in the upper crust of Roman society worked. He was a good man at his core.

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Chaos had taken over Caracalla’s chamber as the day’s newest adventures in the Colosseum grew nearer.  Dressed in an opulent stola, you chanced a glance at the fiery-haired many who sat behind you. Nearly done being dressed, only a crown of laurels remained. Seated in a low chair, he fiddled with the jewelry that adorned his hands and neck. Taking advantage of his distraction, and unable to ignore the desire to be near him, you made your way across the cavernous room to Caracalla. Stepping between his legs you reached back to grab the golden crown in your delicate fingers. With great care you placed it upon his head, fixing his disheveled hair as it poked out in awkward angles. From his spot, he watched in awe, his eyes never leaving your face. 

“There, now you are ready to face your adoring public. May the gods make their will known in the arena this day.” You stooped to place a gentle kiss on the middle of his forehead. The gesture was one of trust and friendship. 

Overwhelmed, you stood upright and took a step back from the emperor. You’d only just begun to turn around when a gentle hand clasped around your wrist forcing you to turn back to Caracalla. His voice was barely more than a whisper as he spoke to you, “Promise you’ll stay with me.” 

“Always.” Caracalla brought your knuckles to his lips before letting you go. 

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The journey to the arena was relatively short. Inside the emperor’s box, the brothers took their seats and were followed in by General Acacius and Lucilla. You watched from the back, observing the pair with keen eyes and a skeptical mind. The two seemed stiff and out of place, their eyes shifting from side to side as though they were about to crawl out of their skin. Pressured to speak, the general stood before the cheering crowd, commanding attention, but something about his words left you feeling ill. The look on his face as he turned around to join his wife was enough to confirm your suspicion. Something was wrong. Long past were the days when Rome’s general was faithful without question to the throne. And now had come the time when enemies were around every corner, to be found most slyly in the people who were meant to be trusted confidantes. 

Commotion filled the arena pulling your attention away from Acacius and Lucilla and permitting you to step into the space between Geta and Caracalla. Chancing a glance at each of them you found Geta’s eyes were already on you, following your approach like a hawk. He raked over your frame, admiring the way the fabric draped over your body, and followed the swell of your chest. Not wanting to risk unwanted attention, you met his gaze for only a moment before turning to engage with Caracalla. A guileless smile turned the corners of his lips as his high-pitched laughter bounced through the air.

Trusting in the power of the gods, you watched with rapt attention as the foreign gladiator made a fool of the man from the emperor’s stables.  Spared by the gods the man tempted fate before ending the fight altogether. Blood pooled beneath the decapitated fighter, painting the sandy ground in a sickening shade of red. 

With the fight over, everyone of note retreated inside where the festivities were sure to continue late into the night. Yet, as you turned to make your way across the room, you noticed the look on Lucilla’s face. She held firmly to the bundle of lavender propped beneath her nose, her face was pale as though the life had been drained from her veins. Her eyes darted from Acacius to the young gladiator that stalked across the sand toward the fighter’s cells. There was a hint of something more there that you failed to place, but it did little to settle your growing suspicions. 

Unable to address it at this moment, you trained your attention back on Caracalla who was chatting away about the fight, retelling the tale to those around him as though they hadn’t just watched it unfold. Stepping into his side, you laced your arm through his, holding tightly to his bicep, and tucked yourself into him. Geta, caught in a conversation with some verbose senator, tracked your movement toward his brother noticing every detail of you. His concern grew stronger as he watched you press your nose into the voluminous material of his brother’s elaborate toga hiding your countenance before pressing onto your toes to whisper in the emperor’s ear. A chaste peck was placed upon his brother’s cheek, earning you a wondrous grin.

Caracalla nodded, before letting you fall away from his side. The young man turned back to the small group that had formed around him and continued his elaborate story. With his blessing, you were free to pick your way through the crowd toward the plethora of wine and food that covered the table at the center of the room. Admiring the choices, you meandered your way from one end to the other sampling every dried fruit and cured meat before settling on a deliciously dark cup of wine. The steady throb in your cheek had you wish for something a bit more potent than alcohol, but alas, that would have to wait. 

Refilling your nearly empty glass, you wandered the space, keeping a keen eye on both Caracalla and Geta. Each remained wrapped in conversation but their demeanors couldn’t be more dissimilar. Where Caracalla continued his lively storytelling, basking in the unwavering attention of his growing entourage, Geta’s face grew increasingly pinched at whatever meaningless drivel the senators believed required the prompt and full attention of him alone. You knew this has become commonplace, the passing over of Caracalla when discussing politics, and yet it rolled your stomach to see it happening so blatantly in public. 

Finished with your lap, you swooped by the table to collect another glass of wine. On a mission to relieve Geta of his trap, you made your way to him, confidently plucking your way through the sea of people. You could feel the burn of jealous and questioning eyes on you. Your presence amongst these circles had become expected long ago and yet it never prevented people from casting judgment upon you. The tender mark upon your face only added fuel to the fire, giving the people exactly what they wanted… more about which to gossip about. 

You closed the last few paces between you and Geta, reveling in the horrified look on the senator's face as you reached for the emperor’s shoulder. Gently, you placed a hand on him, drawing his attention away. “Here, some wine, to fortify your political endeavors.” Ignoring the hanging jaws and scoffs of the other men you carefully handed Geta the drink soaking in the entrancing way his eyes seemed to glow in the light. Their depth fell away to a brighter almost amber hue. But it was not just his gaze that held the knot in your chest, but the emotion that sat heavy in every fiber of his being. 

Desire darkened across his face as he memorized the stillness of your features. Geta’s ringed fingers brushed your own bare skin, taking far longer than was necessary to receive the beverage from you. A distinct cough of indignation erupted from one of the older politicians forcing you to step back. Geta gave a slight nod, silently passing you permission to fall away knowing that he judged you not for wanting to escape the calloused opinions of those he was forced to surround himself with. The swish of your stola accented your departure.  Behind you, the conversation returned in hushed tones, but the swell of the crowd did little to mask the biting words.  

“That woman has grown far to forward with you and your brother, Geta. It appears it may be time to let her go, and replace her with someone more docile… refined. Perhaps now the pair of you should consider proper marriages, for the future of Rome.” The old man’s voice croaked grating into the momentary silence that fell after he finished speaking.

With your back turned to Geta you were unable to see the vicious sneer that came over the emperor’s face. Far enough away now, his words were lost to the crowd in which you disappeared. Only the need to maintain peace for your sake kept him from exploding. A deep breath filled his chest and shook through his nose as he tested the surety of his voice. “That woman belongs to my brother, and to m- to the household. Her actions are neither unexpected nor uncouth. And may I suggest senator, that you keep her out of your filthy whoring mouth or you may find your own midnight wanderings publicized for all to discuss. Am I clear?” 

“Yes.” The older man murmured. His eyes dropped to the ground, uncertain of how to proceed. 

“Now, if you’ll excuse me. I believe there are others far more worthy of my time to which I must attend.” Geta bowed out hastily, the venom in his voice dripped from every word keeping the other tongues silent. 

Heavy footfalls pounded across the stone toward you, following your path away from the crowd in search of temporary solitude. Nearing a quiet alcove, you pressed yourself into the chill of the marble. Exhausted and aching, you felt your legs tremble, forcing you to slump down upon the unforgiving bench that lined the wall. The distant rumbling of the crowd was accented by the approach of another. Unsure of what to say, you let your eyes fall shut, keeping out the world around you, and perhaps buying you some time to come to grips with your thoughts. 

The steps slowed, and yet you didn’t bother to open your eyes. “You mustn’t listen to them. They are feeble-minded old men. They matter matter not.” Geta spoke, hoping you would look at him. 

Concern masked as anger flashed hot over your nerves, forcing you to stand and crowd into his space. Your open palms found his chest, shoving his sturdy frame away as you worked to control your volume. “You cannot say those things, Geta. You need them, whether you care for that reality or not. Without the Senate, Rome is nothing. In a heartbeat, they have you and your brother deposed. There are snakes in the water, Geta. Do not let your loose tongue be what brings about your ruin!” 

Geta’s hand came to hold your wrists in place against him, the feeling of your touch the only thing that kept him from giving into the dizzying spin of his head. “What are you saying?! You of all people-” 

“I’m saying take great care with what you say and to whom you say. There are those within your inner circle who wish to see you and Caracalla fall, no matter how that happens. The ends would justify the means in their eyes. The senators are only part of your problem.” You choked on the end of your confession, the reality heavy in your chest. 

Geta’s hold on you changed. One hand skimmed along your curves finding home at the nip of your waist while the other cupped your injured cheek, tipping your face to his. “Do not be afraid. Tell me what you know.”  

“I’m not afraid, not for myself. But for you and Caracalla… that is an entirely different story. And as far as what I know... it is nothing, it has to be nothing. Just my anxious mind getting the better of me.” 

“Do not keep this inside, it will only eat away at you.” He spoke deeply, understanding the truth behind what he’d spoken despite often leaving this advice alone for himself. 

“You expect more of me than of yourself when it comes to honesty.” Lingering frustration gave way to weariness. Struggling to keep yourself together, you rested your brow against Geta's chest. The silk of his clothing soothed your nerves. Held carefully in his arms, you could feel the feather-light touch of his lips as he kissed your temple.

“Nothing gets past you.” A soft smile wrapped around his words. Pressed together in the relative seclusion you'd managed to find, Geta inhaled the warm scent of wine and perfume that swirled around you. The beautiful bouquet went to his head, adding to the hazy buzz he cultivated through a touch too much to drink.

"Pay no mind to the anxious ramblings of a palace whore. I know little of what I fear. I should never have voiced my concern, it is not my place. Forgive me." You kept your face buried in the elaborate folds of his toga, letting the sturdiness of him continue to calm your body.

"Do not call yourself that." Geta leaned back, forcing you to look at him. Tenderly, he held your face, taking extra care to avoid your wound. "You are not. You never have been."

"No, I am. They are right. A real marriage. A wife… children… a son to bear the family name. That is what you both need. What you deserve."

"You are avoiding your worry. Deflecting. You may speak freely with me, you know this. There are no others here to judge or condemn. You have my ear and my heart." Geta captured your mouth with his, earning him the ghost of a whimper. Breaking away before things could escalate, he waited patiently for your response. "Now tell me what you fear so that I may carry that burden with you."

"I will not speak of it here. Not where prying eyes and ears shift all around. I know the palace is no better when it comes to the fiery spread of rumors and lies, but this place… it thrives on blood. It screams for it. It makes me ill. Not here. Meet me tonight, at the baths. I promise… I will share everything."

You reached for Geta, needing to feel him close once more. Slotting your lips together, you felt the fine strands of his hair between your fingers.

"Tonight." He mumbled against your lips.

Part III

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Kenshin's Sequel Preview

Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Expect grammatical errors and inaccuracies.

Spoilers ahead.

Once, he became a demon for my sake.

The deep, dark obsession he had was gradually turning into something more gentle.

Kenshin: "As long as we are in a truce, the Uesugi clan will not attack the Oda clan."

Kenshin: "Moreover, if the world becomes more chaotic, I could lend a hand in bringing peace, depending on the conditions."

Masamune: "A god of war would see a chaotic world as an opportunity for battle."

Kenshin: "That would only sadden Mai."

Kenshin: "Easing her worries takes precedence over everything, even the joy of battle."

Ieyasu: "I can't believe this is the same man who once tried to destroy everything for the sake of one woman."

Amid our happy days, I was sure that one day we would attain the calm of a serene sea, but...

Wounded Soldier: "Sorry, but I have my reasons."

Mai: "Ah!"

(He's going to kill me.)

A sinister hand reached for me as I accompanied them to battle.

As pain surged through me, the image of my beloved came to mind.

(No! I can't leave Kenshin alone.)

(Not like that time again.)

In my final moments, a memory and regret pierced my heart.

I never wanted to see him become a demon again.

(I wish I could go back in time. I wish I could redo everything.)

Would my desperate wish bring a miracle or something else?

----------------------------------

Kenshin: "You're pale. Are you in pain somewhere?"

Mai: "Huh? Me?"

(I'm not dead?)

From that moment, an unknown power to turn back time began to awaken within me.

When he learned of this, his heart began to crack secretly.

Kenshin: "I haven't given you permission to speak."

Kenshin: "Normally, I wouldn't even allow you to breathe, but I'm sparing you so you can spill all the information."

Man: "P-Please, spare me."

Kenshin: "Didn't you hear me? I told you to shut your mouth."

Mai: "U-Um, Kenshin."

Kenshin: ".........."

Mai: "!"

(It's been a long time since I've seen Kenshin with this expression.)

Kenshin: "You must have been worried, Mai."

Kenshin: "There's no need to stain your beautiful eyes with such an unsightly, tedious interrogation."

Who was it that first opened the box that held back his madness?

Kenshin: "Let me make this clear: I am furious, more than I've ever been."

Kenshin: "I'll protect you, no matter what. And I will kill every last one of them."

I wanted to give him as much love as he gave me.

Mai: "It wouldn't mean anything if I'm the only one who survives."

Mai: "Not using that power is the same as letting them die."

Kenshin: ".........."

Mai: "Please, I've made up my mind."

Kenshin: "That's the part of you I fell in love with."

Even if I burn my life away, my soul will shine only for you.

Kenshin: "I thought you were teaching me a gentle love, but I was gravely mistaken."

Kenshin: "The desire to possess you consumes me like a sweet poison, and it will never fade."

We are two halves seeking each other in a twisted way.

Our tightly clasped hands will never part, even in the depths of hell.

[absurdthirst]

Kinktober 2024: October 28th

Day 28: Fucking Machine // Phone Sex // Impact Play

Marcus Moreno x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: Phone sex, mutual masturbation, dirty talk

|| Kinktober List || MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

“Hey baby.” There’s relief in Marcus’s tone, layered under the fatigue and the slight stress that he always hopes you can’t pick up on. Life is already stressful enough with the way that the Hero’s 1 network broadcasts any battles involving Heroics, and cuts the footage to make it seem more dramatic and intense than it was. Sensationalizing the already sensational news. 

”Hey.” You hear the stress, can see him with his shoulders rolled down and his eyes heavily lidded. He sounds worn out. “How are you?”

“Missing you.” You’re sure he’s already called Missy, the bracelet she wears allows him to talk to his daughter directly and it’s too late for her to be awake now. 

“I miss you too.” You always miss him when he’s gone, the bed lonely and cold without his overheated body pressing close to yours. He sounds like he need to go to sleep, but he’s not quickly telling you good night like he might have. 

“I really miss you.” Marcus repeats and you grin, snuggling down into the bed, his pillow at your head so you smell him. It doesn’t hurt you are also wearing one of his old t-shirts that has his scent completely embedded in the fibers no matter how many times it’s been washed. 

“Oh.” You hum. “I miss you too. Especially right now. All alone in this big bed.”

He groans quietly and you hear him shuffle. The rustle of sheets telling you that he’s already in the little bunk that he has on the Heroic’s plane. “Yeah?”

“Oh yeah.” His voice is thicker already and you smile against the phone. “It’s been two days since you’ve been inside me, Marcus.”

He exhales roughly, and you can imagine the look on his face, the instant need that makes his eyes darken and focus. “Two days is too long.” He agrees. “But I had to leave.”

“I know.” You pout down the line and slide your hand into your panties. “Doesn’t mean I don’t wish you were right here.” 

“What would you do?” He asks, his voice low and turning raspier by the word. 

“Suck your cock.” Marcus groans, making you hum in appreciation for the already needy pitch to his sounds. “Why don’t  you wrap your hand around that cock and pretend it’s my hand or my mouth.” 

“Already hard.” He admits shamelessly, the confession making you giggle as your own fingers circle your clit. 

“Yeah?” You tease him. “You need a nice, soft blowjob?” You groan when you press your fingers to your puffy bundle of nerves. “Or do you need something a little rougher?” What he needs from you always changes depending on how bad of a day he had. 

“Need you.” He pants slightly and you hear him spit, making you grin as your own fingers become more adventurous. Imagining that they are Marcus’s when he works you up to sobbing his name before he ever slides inside you. The man has a fucking talented set of fingers and they don’t even come close to his tongue. “Touching me.”

“Oh I would touch you.” You purr, snuggling deeper under the covers and sighing softly. “I would straddle you, kissing down your throat and behind your ear just like you love.” 

Marcus groans and you can hear him start to slowly pump his cock. Obviously needing it soft and slow today. The tender connection and touch. “Fucking love when you do that.” 

“I know you do, baby.” You hum. “Already stripped down and naked, begging you to touch me.” Your eyes close and you slip into the little mental fantasy that is building with your words. “Breasts pressed against your chest.” 

He hums again, encouraging you to keep talking. “Fuck.” 

“That’s later.” You giggle, breaking off with a moan when you press a bit harder and rub just the right spot. “You love when I rub my pussy against your cock, getting it nice and wet while we kiss.” You love it too. You always enjoy grinding against his cock, you can cum just like that if you do it long enough. “You want me to do that while you play with my tits?” 

“Yes.” Marcus is panting down the line, grunting every few seconds as he pumps his cock. “Want to suck on them.” He adds. “You love when I suck on them.” 

It’s your turn to pant, nipples aching just because he mentioned sucking on them. He loves to lavish them with attention until they ache so beautifully. “Yesssss baby, suck on them.” You encourage, sliding your fingers deeper until they catch at your entrance and you start to push them inside you. “Fuck Marcus.” 

“Are you fingering your little pussy, baby?” His tone is dirty, spearing into your stomach and you clench around your fingers. He always knows what you are doing by the sounds you are making. “Wishing they were mine? Yours don't get deep enough, do they?” 

They really don’t. You listen to his cock sliding in his hand, the slick sounds of it adding to the sexiness of this phone call. “No.” You admit breathlessly. “Yours are perfect inside me.” You moan, curling them inside you as you imagine how perfect Marcus’s fingers would be. He manages to fill you up with just two of them and they sink down to the knuckle with ease, curling up to press against your g-spot with devastating accuracy. 

“I’ll be back tomorrow.” Marcus promises, panting out the words while he strokes his cock. “Then I’ll take you to bed.” 

“Baby.” Your breath catches, pumping your fingers in and out of your pussy as you listen into him jerk off. “Want to ride you. Want to ride your cock.” 

“Fuck yes.” Marcus grunts. “I’ll play with your tits while you cream all over me.” He moans your name. “Then I’m going to flip you over and make you scream.” 

It’s gone from needy soft to needy desperate. Harder and slightly more vulgar. Exactly what you both need right now. Both of you moaning and whining through the phone as you touch yourselves. Encouraging each other to fall over the edge. 

“Want that.” You whimper, imagining riding him hard and fast while he begs for more. While you beg for more when he has you on your back and he’s drilling into you with his cock. “Want you. Love you so much.” 

“Fuck, I love you.” Marcus pants, his voice catching and he grunts again. “Gonna cum.” He hisses, right before he makes those beautiful sounds he always makes when he is falling apart. You can just see him, eyes closed and mouth dropped open, features twisted in pleasure. It's a gorgeous sight. 

His breath is heavy, heaving over the phone while you listen to him come down from his high. Your fingers are frozen, buried inside you where you had stopped moving them as you listened to him. You didn’t cum, but that doesn’t mean you didn’t enjoy yourself. “Fuck.” Marcus chuckles quietly after a moment, catching his breath and you hear him shuffle again as he reaches for a towel to wipe away his cum. “Now I want to hear you cum, baby.” He coos, eager to continue the phone call so that you can cum too.

[merakiui]

PLEASE, elaborate more on the idea of ​​being a vulnerable maiden who became a general's spoils of war. Honestly, I wouldn't mind being criticized by that man, let alone being full every night after he used me.

OTL I need him carnally. Just war-driven, mostly heartless Lilia who isn’t afraid to do what must be done for the sake of victory in battle!!! >v<

Imagine General Vanrouge who, in the wake of a battle that leaves your defenseless village in ruins and aflame, finds you amidst the debris. You’re injured and cradling your stomach; he assumes you may have sustained an abdominal injury with how desperately you clutch the area, and he surmises if it isn’t treated you’ll eventually bleed out or it’ll become infected. So he’s sensibly callous when he decides he’ll put you out of your misery, as there’s no way he’s taking you along. He needs to lead his men elsewhere to recuperate and regroup after a hard-fought battle. But just before he can deliver a killing blow, your arms shoot out in defense and he spies the rounded bump you were once previously protecting.

Ah. He understands now. You’re with child.

Normally he wouldn’t care. Life and death are essentially much the same when you’re trapped in war: it’s cruel suffering. But something about you strikes a chord within him. He bends down to where you’re huddled on the ground and slides his mask up so you can be at ease. Even bloodied, bruised, and broken, you’re a pretty thing. He’s not normally swayed by tears or pleas for salvation. War hardens anyone, especially those on the frontlines. Yet there’s so much potential growing inside you—a little one you love and care wholeheartedly for. This is the only time he’ll make an exception. No one says anything when he lifts you with ease, carrying you like one might carry a bride, and gives the signal for his men to regroup at the designated checkpoint. You’re terrified, too startled to move in his arms, but you’re not dead. And being scared and alive is a fate far more relieving than death. Or so you hope.

You’ll be allowed to live under a few conditions. One: You must be watched over by soldiers in intervals, as Lilia can’t take any risks. You might be a spy or a danger to his troops. He has to think objectively. Two: You’ll live like a soldier. Of course there will be some degree of leniency, considering you’re carrying a child. Lilia will make sure you’re safe and well-fed (or about as well-fed as you can get with war rations) so that you won’t lose your baby. Three: You must always be honest. Though General Vanrouge can be intimidating, he isn’t a monster. He’ll listen if you voice logical complaints. He’s somewhat softer on you knowing you’re pregnant, so if something’s wrong you must tell him. This is especially important as the months pass and your due date draws near. Lilia has to make appropriate plans for the day when you’ll inevitably give birth, so knowing ahead of time will be useful. Four—and this one is a strange one: You must service General Vanrouge whenever he wishes, as it’s a fair trade. He wants to be rough, especially if he’s frustrated with the outcome of a battle, but he keeps his strength in check. You’re allowed to set the pace, to ride him if it pleases, to pick which positions he fucks you in because it has to be easy and comfortable on your body, especially depending on how big your bump is. You’re the only one he’ll make these exceptions for. It’s a special, rare honor.

The soldiers observe their general’s taken quite the liking to you. But then they all love you, too. You know how to cook delicious stews when they manage to scrounge up enough ingredients for one. But no one can love you more than Lilia. He’s grown fond of his sweet spoil of war. <3 it’s a good thing he claimed you, otherwise Death himself would have made you his and Lilia is always defying him on the battlefield.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for advising a woman to get married?

Maybe I'm digging my own grave because this website is very US centric but I'm hoping you see where I'm coming from. I (mid 20s M) come from a culture where arranged marriage is the norm. I have this friend Maya (early 20s F) who also comes from a similar culture, but the difference is that hers values consent more, whereas where I live, only the parents have a say in the matter. We also have a USAmerican friend Jade (late 20s F) who will make an appearance at the end.

Maya is a sex repulsed Ace, and she kept saying she will stay single forever. I know what the situation for women in her country is like, it would be very difficult to live without a husband. One day she made a vent post saying how her parents keep asking her to reconsider, that they are worried about her being alone for the rest of her life, and her father is worried about who will financially support her after he dies.

She didn't come out to her parents, no use of doing it since they won't even understand what Asexuality is. All she did say that she refused to marry a man she wasn't in love with, and implied she will never fall for one. She's trying too hard to prove she can be an independent woman.

Her family, out of concern, told her that marriage isn't about love. She can marry someone who she is compatible with and get along just fine. That many people don't end up married to the love of their lives and even if they do, they end up losing the spark anytime but stay because they built a loving home together.

I don't find this a bad thing. Stability is very important in marriage. I mean sure, I wish I could marry the love of my life, but if my parents decided that my next door neighbor would be my wife, I would go along with it because that's just how things are where I live.

I told Maya this and she got upset with me. She said my case was different because I'm a guy (??) And because I was hetero.

I told her to value her culture more, and she has the advantage over me because she can actually CHOOSE her spouse. She got angry and said I wasn't being considerate of her feelings, and she'd rather die than be touched by a man, which frankly is making me worried.

I told her she wasn't being realistic. She is fine for now, but she will suffer in the future. Being single in our cultures is very difficult and she needs to give up. She replied with long paragraphs about how she doesn't care. I say this because I care about her as a friend, and her parents from what she described are good people too and they care about her too. She doesn't appreciate it and thinks she can live alone for the rest of her life. Unlike the west, roommates arrangements aren't available here. If she loses her family, she becomes dependent on relatives who may or may not be available. Frankly I think she's very influenced by the western lifestyle which will get her nowhere in real life. And she's disabled and works a minimum wage too.

Maya stopped talking to me for days. The whole discussion was a on a public post so by the time our mutual friend Jade woke up (different time zones) she read the whole post and came to scream at me in DMs. Jade was Ace herself, she told me I was being sexist and acephobic. I told Jade that wasn't my intention but she should stay out of our business because she can't relate to our cultures and isn't being helpful to Maya, and she has it easy because she has the resources available that allow her to be independent.

AITA for wanting my friend to realize she's being unrealistic and things won't work for her in the future?

What are these acronyms?

[yorit1]

Good Luck Babe

Francesca and Eloise were sitting in the parlour. It was calling hour, and Cressida came in to talk with Eloise.

“Cresida, hi,” Eloise said.

“I thought we could go for a walk in the park.

John came in to call on Francesca.

“Lord Kilmartin, what do I owe the pleasure?” Francesca asked.

“I brought you your favourite music for the pianoforte. I thought it would be great for you to play it, and you could play the music while I listened,” John suggested.

“That sounds wonderful,” Francesca said excitedly.

Francesca played the piano for John and happily, excitedly played for him.

Eloise happily walked with Cressida, who may be her best friend after Penelope. Cressida was building a special place in Eloise’s heart. They could talk so easily, and it was perfect to talk to her about anything that came up in Eloise’s mind. Eloise loved to read and was afraid of marrying a man. She had never felt drawn to a man, and she wanted to stay single so she would have her freedoms. Eloise enjoyed going on walks with Cressida.

“So I think that we have to believe that marriage is a social construct and it is a way to trap women and for them to be dependent on men,” Eloise said.

Cressida could not agree. She noticed that Eloise was like her and did not like men; she hoped Eloise was like her and liked women. Cressida wanted to marry another woman. Queen Charlotte would allow two women or two men to marry soon.

“I love listening to your thoughts on literature. I hope my father never makes me marry a man. I would not have that,” Cressida said.

Eloise and Cressida continued walking and talking throughout the afternoon, enjoying each other’s company.

Francesca was excited to be marrying her best friend, John. Her brother Anthony, the head of the household and Viscount, would walk her down the aisle. She was excited to be married; she did not think she would make a connection with another person, but she made that connection with John Stirling, the Earl Killmartin.

The wedding went by quickly. The kiss did not feel like the kisses that she heard Anthony and Daphne talk about with their spouses, but it was fine.

Soon, Francesca met John's cousin Michaela, and she felt like her world had dropped from under her. She could not speak what she wanted to say.

“I’m Francesca Bridgerton, Killmartin, um,” Francesca stammered.

“Nice to meet you, Francesca,” Michaela said.

Michaela took Francesca’s hand and shook it. When Michaela’s hand touched Francesca’s, sparks shot up her spine. This was the feeling that Anthony, Kate, and Daphne talked about. She could not believe that she felt that way about her husband’s cousin.

“Cressida hi,” Michaela said. “I miss you.”

“I miss you, too. Are you going through all of the continent’s most eligible ladies?” Cressida asked.

“Until I find the right one. Which I think I have,” Michaela said with a wink.

“I found the one, but it is a slow burn. We are best friends, and I hope we can become something more,” Cressida said.

“I wish you luck,” Michaela said.

“Who is this?” Eloise asked as she walked along.

“Michaela Stirling at your service,” Michaela said proudly.

“I’m Eloise. Francesca’s older sister by one year,” Eloise said.

“Oh, you love that you are a year older than I,” Francesca said.

“It was a pleasure to meet you ladies,” Michaela said, walking away.

Michaela could not believe that the person that she wanted to settle down with was her cousin’s wife. She could not believe that her heart had finally wanted to settle down, after debouching with the women of the ton and the women on the continent.

“Cressida, I have a problem,” Michaela said.

“What is it?” Cressida asked.

“I have feelings for my cousin’s wife, Francesca,” Michaela moaned out.

“I understand. I’m in love with Eloise and don’t know if she feels the same way about me. I know that she has no feelings for men, but does she have feelings for women? Would she have feelings for me? It is enough for me to be her friend for now, but hopefully, we can be in a relationship someday. I am willing to wait for her,” Cressida said.

“I wish I could wait for Francesca, but she is married to my cousin, and I could never betray him. I will just have to try to be the biggest rake and seduce women until I get over her. I can’t be in love with my cousin’s wife,” Michaela said.

Michaela did not love being a rake, but it was expected of her. She did not want to fall in love, and now she knew why. Love would only cause her pain, and she was right. Being in love with her cousin’s wife was a big disaster. Michaela could not get Francesca’s smile out of her head. It was the best smile. And the way she stuttered. Even if Francesca felt the same, they would never do that to John.

Michaela could never forgive herself if she stole John’s wife.

Eloise was talking to Francesca when Francesca came to visit the Bridgerton house. Eloise had some questions for Francesca.

“How do you know when you are in love? I do not think that I have ever felt love or desire for another person. Lately, though, I have had slight feelings for Cressida. I was wondering if that was love?”

“I am no expert, but with John, I loved that he cared about the things that I cared about. That he was interested in my music. But I do not know what type of love that is? He is most definitely my best friend, and I do love him,” Francesca said.

“Cressida is my very best friend after Penelope. We have a connection that I have never felt with another person. I love the way that I am with her. I feel like I can be my true self with her. I do not have to hide away my thoughts and opinions. With Penelope engaged to Colin, I feel like I have Cressida differently. As I do not want to marry, I want to remain with my books, my thoughts, and Cressida,” Eloise said.

“I understand. I did not think I wanted to marry; I only wanted to be with my pianoforte and play the piano. But John understood me in a way I never felt with someone other than you. I do not know if we have the recipe for the perfect marriage, but we have friendship and understanding,” Francesca said.

“Miss Michaela Stirling is here for Lady Francesca Stirling, and Lady Cressida Cewper is here for Miss Eloise Bridgerton,” the butler announced.

Francesca and Eloise stood up and greeted the ladies.

“I was hoping you could accompany me to the opera?” Cressida asked Eloise.

“Yes, I will dress and we can go,” Eloise said.

“I was hoping you could accompany me to get a gift for John. I want your opinion,” Michaela said.

“That sounds lovely. I would love to get to know you better, Michalea,” Francesca said.

They were playing with dangerous water. But something would have to give.

[galsinspace]

Replaying Inquisiton really made me notice (again) how the companions are written with such an incredibly noticeable difference in care. Man I hope they did a better job in Veilguard. And it's such a stark contrast from Origins!

I'll just post my comparative ramblings bc I'm on a train and have nothing better to do

In my opinion, one of the best things about Origins is the closeness you develop with your companions. You're with them through massive, formative changes in their lives, you find out about their childhood traumas and the people they've grown up to be, and as a player you make huge decisions that shape their future. By the end I felt so close to these characters. Looking at the main companions:

Alistair? We find out all about his longing for family, for love, his desire not to be defined by his blood and be able to live a normal life. You're both saddled with the responsibility to save the world together, and you do. Depending on the choices you make, he may have the love he longs for, and he may have to be king, you shape his life in a huge way.

Leliana? She literally seeks you out because she's received visions and is on a god-given mission. You literally shape the kind of person she becomes, whether she hardens or softens her heart.

Zevran? This is the most important period in his life. His flight from the Crows, his suicidal intent and then sudden wish to stay alive after all, finding new things to live for, remembering his mother, you save his life in more ways than one.

Morrigan? Literally the first time she's left her abusive mother's side and it's travelling with you. She finds her own ways to live, you give her the jewellery her mother wouldn't allow her, you help her confront her mother and free herself from her. You might literally be the father of her child.

Sten? Also suicidal, and you help him regain his self worth and sense of meaning in life. And you change him. He comes from a society with rigid rules and you help him see other ways of life. If you play as a woman, he's literally confused in the beginning that you're a fighter, and then as you gain his affection he acknowledges and respects you as who you are. He's not romanceable and probably changes the least out if the companions, but still goes through this monumental change of perspective about there being other valid ways of life. Sten should have been romanceable lbr

Oghren? It's super unfortunate how comic relief he is BECAUSE his story is so intense. The woman he loves disappeared! He's an alcoholic! He's so tied into the MAIN QUEST! He's tragic! You're with him through this massive thing he goes through and it really sucks that he can't really... change. You can't really help him. But even so, the events of the game are monumental to his life.

The Secret Companion is self-explanatory. You completely re-shape his life.

And in comparison, the companions in Inquisition are just WILDLY hit or miss. Some of them you become incredibly close to, others are just kinda there. Oh we're saving the world together? Just another day at the office babey. You don't really get to know them that deeply, you don't get to change their views, they're just there and you work together and then they go on their way. I'm of course talking mainly about Vivienne and Sera.

It's insane to me that Vivienne is this incredibly complex character who is the way she is because she grew up traumatized in an oppressive environment and you never get to talk to her about this. It's hidden in a few comments Cole may or may not drop if you travel with both of them. Her polished demeanor and ever-present smile? Learned in the Circle to demonstrate to templars that she was good, obedient, and non-possessed. Her materialism? When she met the duke, the thought in her head was I will never go hungry again.

Vivienne is TRAGIC. She's a deeply traumatized woman who has lived all her life in a system that did not grant her basic security, and she was strong and smart enough to gather power in the only ways she was allowed to. And you can't even talk to her about this. Her personal quest is some weird red herring bullshit meant to make you question whether she's a villain, comparing her to the evil queen from Snow White, and then it's just... her boyfriend dying. You can't change anything. You can barely talk to her about this relationship - it must have been a mix of love and practicality, a connection that gave her both tenderness and influence, the only power she was allowed to have. And it IS an injustice that she could never have married him! But you can't talk to her about this. Can't influence her viewpoint at all. All this complexity is hidden in subtext, and Vivienne does not change as a person at all.

Vivienne is outwardly cold towards Cole, dismissive, pragmatic, cruel. If Cole becomes more human, he points out to her that she secretly worried about him and is glad he's safe. She denies it. This is the only complexity she's allowed to show, hidden in random banter most players will never hear.

Why are we not allowed to be close to Vivienne? Why can't we talk to her? Explore who she is? Why does it feel like it literally does not matter whether we touch her life at all?

I've seen people claim that the fandom neglects Vivienne unfairly, but this was the WRITERS. They neglected Vivienne. They made it impossible to be close to her, they hid her complexity while just having her be straight-up rude for most of the game. This was a huge failure on the part of the writers. I've heard that her main writer said on twitter (DA writers should not be allowed to tweet) that he just didn't like her and that makes me so mad. Fucking video game writers...

And Sera. Oh, Sera.

She's annoying. Her jokes are painfully unfunny. It's super hard to get her to like you. Whenever you talk to her, the first option is to kick her out of the Inquisition. Why on EARTH did they write her this way?

Her personal quest is nothing. You go meet some guy, kill him, over. What does this MEAN??? What does this mean for Sera's character?? It's so fully useless, you learn nothing new, you don't get closer to Sera, who the fuck wrote this and why was this published.

And just like with Vivienne, you barely get to talk to Sera. She runs around with a huge case of internalized elf racism and you never get to talk about it. She literally won't put on armour marked as "elves only", what's up with that girl? She openly looks down on elves to the point of being annoyed to even talk to an elf Inquisitor, why can we never talk to her about this?

She's supposed to be from Denerim. Is she from the Alienage? The close-knit community Tabris is from? Does she know Tabris? She might literally know the Hero of Ferelden and it's never a topic of conversation. She would have been like, a young teenager at the time when the Alienage was suffering a plague and elves were being kidnapped and sold into slavery. Was this not a formative experience for her? Was she not there? Did she not live in the Alienage? Well all of Denerim became a war zone during the Blight, was that not a notable event in her life????

Why do we not get to explore anything that makes her the dismissive, flighty person she is?

Playing in German, there is fascinating ambiguity in the graveyard of your companion's fears that you find in the Fade - Sera's greatest fear is "nothing". In German, the word for the Fade is "the Nothing". I thought it made so much sense that that would be her greatest fear! She's afraid of anything involving magic and spirits, and it adds a nice metaphorical level to her rejection of anything elven: elves are supposed to be inherently connected to the Fade, but she's afraid of the Fade! Comments she makes seem to imply that she has a suppressed sensitivity to spirits, but either Solas or Cole suggesting that that might be the case clearly terrifies her.

Well, imagine my disappointment when I found out that in the original English, her fear is just "nothing". Which is bullshit too, Sera is clearly afraid of of anything Fade-related. I guess it might be some idea of how she's afraid of quiet and non-existence, but like... what a missed opportunity. What a dumb thing to be her greatest fear. What a missed opportunity.

And just like Vivienne, it doesn't feel like you really impact her life at all. Sera just comes and goes, she does her own thing, and she never unpacks any of her issues. Why was she written this way? Why did they think this would be a compelling companion experience? And for fuck's sake, who thought she was funny?

This rant is already way too long and I'm almost off the train so I won't write a full comparison to the Inquisition companions who were done well, but like, it's obvious. For some of them you touch their lives intimately, you shape their worlds, you actually feel close to them by the end of the game. How the fuck did this game get shipped with Vivi and Sera like that.

It's been 10 years and I hope the developers learned from their mistakes, if they noticed them in between sucking their own dicks on twitter.

[melanatedkink]

Just a Little Reminder

Pairing: Ran x Y/N

Synopsis: Oh the sex is great with your boyfriend, even if he does play it safe just to keep from getting vulnerable with you. Though, tonight, you're not having it. I mean, guys deserve to be told that they're good boys, right? Tonight, you make him believe that sentiment.

Warnings: dom y/n, affirmations, mentions of good boy, I, again avoid gender defining genetalia and pronouns for y/n(let me know if I slip up), Ran says tits but it's gender neutral(everyone has tits), teasing an orgasm, Ran getting therapy in the middle fof sex

It had been another rough day for Ran. You could tell in the way his dry humour had become accented with a little chuckle that seemed to sour his face moreso than save it. It was typical for Ran to have days where things just did not seem to go very well at work. Sometimes rivals get too big for their britches and break contracts with him and his gang. Depending on how the betrayal goes down, you could get a smug bastard with a myriad of gruesome facts spilling out his lips like it was the weather. Or you could get what you currently had, a stiff and distracted Ran who could only manage absentmindedly caressing you, in place of his usual social self.

An hour after dinner, you finally found this personality change more than slightly confusing. No, you were effectively suffocating in the tension in the air. You broke the silence, gently leading his gaze to yours with a soft finger against his jaw.

"Baby, what's wrong?"

Again, the strained smirk popped up, souring your mood further.

"Nothin' baby. Whatever it is, it's gonna handled sooner or later,"

You tilted your head, trying a different approach," I'm feeling lonely. What can I do to get your attention on me?"

That seemed to do the trick. The light in Ran's eyes was almost criminal. Rarely did you ever have to ask for his attention, his gaze zeroing in on every movement you made as soon as you entered the room.

"Feeling lonely? I'm right here, babe," he whined, as he maneuvered you onto his lap," Don't worry, I'll fix it for you,"

You'd hoped he'd catch the hint with how distant he seemed all night. Luckily, the promise of sex could effectively break this man out of any mental turmoil he may have been going through. Once he'd carried you to the bedroom, he was all over you. Tender hands caressed and massaged their way down your body. His lavender gaze seared themselves into your memory, while he nibbled your thighs making you wish he'd just enter already.

"Looks like you're expecting somethin'."

You hummed, sitting up on the edge of the bed were he had layed you out. Ran straightened, allowing you to catch the tension in his shoulders and jaw. You hadn't seen him this nervous since you first did it as a couple. The only other time he'd gotten vulnerable during sex. He made a promise afterward, promising to keep you in the innerworkings of his brain as long as you were there to listen. You guessed he just needed a refresher course tonight.

You leaned forward, allowing your chest to captivate him while you steathily curled your fingers into his belt loop and wrenched him into your spread legs. Before Ran could get his bearings, you'd wrapped your legs around his waist.

"I think you're holding out on me, Ran,"

A twinge of fear shifted through his face. He absoutely loathed his name coming out of your mouth. You only did that if he made a big mistake. That tied with the current situation could only make for a special punishment just for him.

He raised his hands in defeat, hoping to get to the problem first and squash it before you went on a guilt trip.

"Alright, I admit that I've been a little distracted today. But, like, do we have to do this now? I mean, I was about to take my frustration out on that pretty little spot down there. You know it's basically therapy for me,"

His smile did a little more to ease your worries, but you were greedy. You wanted every little spot in his mind. And you were entering demon time trying to get it. His fingers walked themselves up your thigh, only to be stopped by your hand taking his and kissing it. You fluttered your lashes as you caressed the skin. He gulped. Here comes the guilt trip.

"When is a good time for you? Earlier on the couch or at dinner? After sex? Tomorrow night when sommething else happens at work? That's not fair, Ran," you whined.

He grunted as he squirmed under your puppy dog eyes. Man, you coud be evil sometimes, working up a love hate relationship with the way you spoke to him. It made him desperately want to give you everything he had.

"How about you listen to me, answer my questions and I'll let it go, hm?" you suggested.

You teased your fingers around his straining erection as he weighed the current options. This could be a trick to open up. But you were honest. Besides, this was a simple task. He'd dealt with worse interrogations before. How hard could this be?

"Alright, baby, I'm all ears,"

You chuckled, the sound acting like the bell beginning round one.

"What's your name?"

His eyebrows knitted," This a trick question?" You inched your hands away from his crotch forcing him to backtrack," Wait, wait. Ran Haitani,"

"Good," you slipped your thumb over his button, swiftly undoing it,"Who's your lover?"

Ran's amusement morphed into awe as you fished his dick from his pants, finding it drooling already.

"You- uh Y/N," he tugged his lip into his teeth,"That good?"

He'd never know how badly he'd just exposed himself. Nevermind you gave a soft "good job" and began masturbating him. Ran blew out a sigh of relief at the feels of your tight hand smearing slick up and down his needy shaft.

He rolled his head back," Oh yeah. That's good,"

You giggled at him slightly going dumb in front of you. His hips chased you ministrations, his breaths becoming ragged.

"Am I getting you off, love?" you teased.

His initial answer tapered off into a moan," Oh what kinda question is that? Of course you are,"

As Ran inched closer and closer to orgasm, more hushed curses mingled with his wet cock. You teased him with a moan of your own. Once again, you captured his eyes. You spread your thighs, exposing yourself and loosing a slutty moan just for him. His eyes nearly crossed at the mounting stimulation. It was getting to him. Your pretty voice. Your pretty hands. The way you encouraged his good behavior. Good God, you were a vice and he could only ever want more.

"Are you a good boy?"

His hips stuttered, as if your question hit a speed bump in his brain. He opted to just ignore it in favor of biting his lip. You shook your head. Oh no. No way he was trying to get an out in the middle of an out. You slowed your tempo, earning a frustrated growl from you man.

"Fuck wait! I'm sorry I'll fucking answer. Just say it one more time," he stammered.

That was new. You never thought you'd ever hear him beg so easily.

"Oh honey, all you had to do was answer," you said, slowing and loosening your hand around his shaft.

Another irritated sigh. That godforasken tone of yours was back with a vengence, making him twitch in your limp grip. "Fuck, baby. I-I'll answer it. Please, one more time."

"How bout this," you squeezed, testing his attention,"Where do you want to cum?"

His pupils dilated at the prospect.

"Oh fuck. Your tits. Shit I wanna mess em up so bad," he was practically vibrating in your grasp. A new wave on excitement crackled in the air, almost making you give in. Almost.

"I don't think you deserve it," you stated flatly.

"Wha- wait! I answered!" he squealed," You can't just leave me hanging!"

You dragged his hand from his hanging dick just to twist and play with your nipples. He swallowed a whimper. He was beginning to wonder what he did just to avoid this torture ever taking place in the future. Hell, he'd beg forgiveness now if you just let him cum.

"I said you answer my questions, you get out of telling me what's bothering you at work, honey," you shrugged," You were doing so well, too, baby,"

His fist balled up at his sides. It would be so easy just to jerk it right now, but seeing you on the brink of dispappointmnet already, he didn't want to see what you would turn into if he tested your kindness any longer.

"Alright baby, alright. How can I... I'm at your mercy; how do I fix it?" he pleaded.

You scanned his frame. His eyes shone with unabashed hope. You sighed, relenting.

"Be honest: do you think you deserve to cum on my tits?"

His brain short circuited. Ran slipped out his sex-crazed stupor to throw an incredulous look your way. You smirked as he silently went through all the possible answers. There was no need to over think this, right? Just be honest.

"I think I do,"

You slowly replaced your hand, making his dick twitch immediately from the pressure.

"Why?"

He swallowed hard. Why? Hell, he barely thought he desserved you just from the amount of danger he risked you getting in by selfishly keeping you in his life. Here he was twitching and squirming, just aching for release, and completely stumped at your question.

"Oh Ran," he flinched," You're a good boy. Do you believe that?"

"N-not really," he admitted.

That earned your pace doubled on his cock. The pressure nearly made him double over from how fast he chased your hand.

"Too bad, only good boys cum where they want,"

He whimpered. He couldn't tell if this was humiliating or tantalizing. One thing was for sure, though, if you stopped again, he was gonna have one.

"Fuck. I'm a good boy. I- oh God- I'm a good boy. Believe me I am. I do my best just for you. Just mm keep going,"

Over and over Ran repeated his "I'm a good boy mantra" slipping up as he began to shake. Something was holding him back, and this time, it wasn't work. It was you. Specifically your lack of permission. So, you leaned forward, pressing yourself into his leaking erection. Just before his eyes crossed, you teased him with one more question.

"Would like to be a good boy, now?"

His confirmation metled into a myriad of unintelligent fragments and curses as he released all over your chest. You got the brunt of how pent up he was as his orgasm seemed to go on longer than usual. He doubled over, trapping you in his arms as he came to. You ran fingers through his purple locks, listening him to him gasp and groan into your shoulder.

A light sniffle broke the silence. You gripped his face, inspecting it closely for any remnants of pain.

"Fuck, didn't know how much I needed the uh confidence boost there," he leaned into your hand," Reminds me of the promise I made ya, when we first got together,"

You smoothed your thumb over his cheekbone, swooning at his muted bashfulness.

"Let's clean up, and we can talk about it, okay?"

A smirk split his face, as Ran crept over your torso until you were forced to lay under him.

"Oh you're not hearing a damn thing, til you answer a few questions of my own, hm?"

[captainjacklyn]

Making my first DOL post today..random game I got into, it's so easy to get invested.

So here is my PC, don't be fooled- that's a boy he just likes his hair long cause an someone told him it looked nice.

Kinda felt like giving him a small description, how he views most of the LIs and other characters, maybe him as a person idk this really feels like a shitpost. I only recommend the game if you aren't a minor and have a strong ass stomach cause I almost vomited the first time.

!!TW!! mentions of SA, blood, gore, violence, human experiments, death, abuse (both mentally and physically), psychopathic behavior, murder, mutation, stalking, if I missed any other triggers please inform me immediately so that I may fix my mistakes. If any of these topics make you uncomfortable, I advise you to please ignore this post and find something else more suitable. !!TW!!

Degrees of Lewdity :

APPEARANCE :

The slender young man slowly stares back at you and returns your greeting. "Oh..it's you." his name is Elias, he's a resident at the local orphanage, he won't talk back if you try anything. Just avoid taking off his gloves unless he allows it.

PROFILE/MAIN INFORMATION :

Species - human, any hybrid Occupation - student Affiliation - orphanage, oxford street school Age - 18 years old Height - 178 cm Birthday - 04th of April Gender - male (can morph his system into changing sexe so female too) Marital Status - Dating Sydney, Avery's side hoe Zodiac Sign - Aries Best Subject - English, History Interests - Cross dressing, sunbathing, napping, gardening, makeup

PERSONALITY :

Elias is an unfazed and blunt yet somewhat gentle young adult who quietly cares for others from afar. At first glance, many would think that he only speaks up when others wish to converse with him, even then his answers are short with little depth. Though it is stated that his confidence becomes much more evident once he gets comfortable, Elias can tease his peers and act playful. Furthermore, he will occasionally invite friends to spend some time with him. Whether it be taking a nap together, walking along the beach shore or reading in the library. He can crave company and has no shame in asking for someone's attention.

Not only so, but angering/provoking Elias is a feat itself, he usually avoids confrontation by walking away and even when things get out of hand, the young man will still struggle for the sake of running off. Though reaching a certain state of insanity, he looses all control of reason and will attack the offender without limit. This livid persona gives him an animalistic instinct to kill, relentlessly harming the individual(s) who previously caused his senses to go a-wire. The way he does this can get more gruesome depending on the previously inflicted physical or mental wounds on Elias, from forcing himself on them to tearing their skin open and eventually creating a gash deadly enough to give them a slow painful end. He stops at nothing until he's satisfied with how much suffering his abuser lives through.

InGameAU/Canon

Note - The statements above is largely different to how he canonically behaves. I have a knack for 'book accurate' vs 'show representation' and wanted a similar concept for my character.

In the game itself, Elias is much less of a victim and instead finds himself to be in constant control (I've been wary of any nonconsensual interactions, making a save before every choice that could lead to gr*pe or getting..y'know v*red). He is manipulative, defiant and easily angered. Belittling any passerby who leaves him a crude remark, regarding his more manipulative tendencies, this does result in him being a bit of a player.

One ↦ Robin can only have a specific percentage of confidence, preferably leaning towards a hundred but never fully. There is the excessive guilt-trip technique, Elias takes care of him from time to time and the moment Robin says something that could waver the white haired boy's sense of control he half scolds him by reminding Robin of everything he does just for him.

Two ↦ Sydney's purity = max level at all times. He doesn't want to deal with the possibility of having a bratty little *sshole follow him around everywhere for s*x. Especially not if the church proceeds to act up along with his corrupted state. The two of them are dating in game, Elias mainly uses him for protection at school, status wise at least. Due to Elias' line of work and desperate need to pay off Bailey, my PC cheats on Sydney practically everyday, having intercourse with multiple NPCs who offer a good price in exchange for his body as well as acting as Avery's sugar baby.

Despite this, he does care, I promise that he does. But his way of thinking would be similar to Alicent Hightower from House of The Dragon. He isn't narcissistic and has never once acted that way, however Elias is heavily twisted by loneliness abandonment issues go brr, anxiety and peer pressure (e.g robin getting punished for not paying his rent, Bailey possibly selling him off to the farm, etc..). This causes him to appear collected and normal at one moment and then unexpectedly go nuts.

BACKGROUND :

Elias' past follows most of the in-game's PC backstory, he was raised in the orphanage by Bailey and supposedly lived within that town his whole childhood. Another NPC who is only present in Elias' story is Monika, an older sister-like figure who was also raised in the orphanage but soon adopted and taken away. She is said to have learned to read rather quickly and many youngsters would come to her for stories, including Robin. Monika was especially close to Elias, treating him like he was a blood relative than just another inhabitant, their bond grew strong as years passed and her depart created a rather detrimental impact on Elias. Who closed in on himself and ceased to socialize, a partial root to his present conduct.

However, there is a darker side to his story. This would also explain the truth behind his gloved hands which he hates uncovering at all cost, as well as his existence alone. Elias wasn't conceived naturally, instead he was created inside an artificial womb manufactured by a non-governmental laboratory which was currently exploring the nature of hybrids (e.g beings such as the Black Wolf or Great Hawk). A group of scientist took a step further, planning a project which was yet to be approved by their employer, and decided to combine several varieties of animal DNA along with human ones. Their goal was to revolutionize the science of genetic research. Unfortunately, the team was found out and reported to their boss, who visioned Elias' birth as a horrific mistake exhibiting complete disrespect to the laws of nature. The people who had fabricated the unnatural child were instantly discarded from further company work.

Up until that point, the infant mainly looked human and acted as such. So the executive ordered for the toddler to be dropped off at an orphanage and forgotten.

TRIVIA/BONUS FACTS :

Elias is rather fashionable, he sometimes goes into the supermarket to try on a set of clothes before leaving without purchasing a single item. (the art is in the savings)

It is stated by several NPCs that he has a bad habit of staring, this is actually due to him daydreaming/spacing out whilst looking ahead unconsciously.

His favorite drink is lemonade and favorite dessert is lemon tart, anything that has to do with lemons is usually enjoyed by Elias.

When adapting to an environment, his hands are the first to metamorphose. They also connect to his emotions/primal instincts, circumstances like these are what drove Elias to hide them.

His screams sound like a mix of Caraxes and Syrax, his sounds are more guttural than actual cries.

CREDITS FOR PICREW :

#1; #2; #3; #4; #5; #6; #7; #8; #9

[badlydrawn-brostrider]

/ / / / /

Though it might be a good idea to make a better pinned post lol.

Hello!! I'm Sylv, the one and only mod of this here blog. I go by any pronouns so go wild! My main is @error707-thatdude if ya wanna chat! @bdbro-mod is my mod blog if you have ooc questions!

Asks are currently: OPEN

M!A: N/A

For quick context! This is a silly sort of post canon au where Bro, Dirk, and BGD (and any other Dirk splinter who wishes to join) all live together in one apartment. Bro doesn't have Lil Cal anymore and is still trying to get over the whole "being possessed/influenced" thing, Dirk is keeping an eye on him, and BGD is our newest arrival! Both Alpha and Beta kids/guardians are here and alive and will be mentioned, other guardian blogs are still free to interact though!

Bro- Me

Dirk- @badlydrawn-dirkstrider (Dave)

Brain Ghost Dirk- @badlydrawn-brainghostdirk (Elliot)

RULES:

• No striderc*st, that's not something I want on my blog. Asks of the sort will be deleted and blocked.

• This may be an au of sorts BUT it's pretty loose! I'd love for other bdhs blogs to interact with me and send asks!

• M!A's are allowed! Named anons are welcome as long as y'all don't take it too far.

• Mod and muse are both 18+ so I tentatively allow nsfw-ish asks on the blog. If its in the source material then it's fair game! Rule will be tweaked of things become too raunchy.

• Ships are a-okay and old man yaoi is welcome but I don't want it to become the blogs main point.

• If anybody wishes to make some kind of arc message me first (either on tumblr or shoot me a message on my discord, lonedistortion). Don't just try starting stuff in my inbox.

• I'm a third year college student in Adapted Physical Education meaning: I'm a busy person. I try responding quickly but sometimes I won't be able to, so please be patient.

• There is likely gonna be heavy topics such as: Child abuse, possession/psychological horror, canon typical Strider repression, canon typical Dirk self loathing + decapitation jokes, lots and lots of puppets and puppet rump. Basically just- canon typical Dirk/Bro stuff CW. Okay look it sounds like a lot but I promise this is a silly, lighthearted blog, just throwing this out here as a quick general warning.

-- And that should be everything! Rules will be added or tweaked depending on how things go. Enjoy your time in Casa de Dirk!

[theflyindutchwoman]

So I've been rewatching a lot of season 5, and there was this scene in 5x19. It was when Lucy was studying in the morning and Tim had just woken up. There was a brief mentioned of how difficult it's going to be for them to maybe see each other daily in the future because of Tim's metro hours and Lucy's detective hours (if Lucy pass the exam). Which got me thinking.

There has been lots of discussion on Lucy's future as a UC and how it may impact Chenford's relationship in the future, and there's already a lot of fanfics going around that explore lots of those possibilities. There are theories that Lucy may not be a UC for long or at least not a long term ops like what Isabell did, which make sense, but her being a detective and having long hours are actually something both Tim and Lucy seem reluctant to have in the first place. One of the reason Tim initially become a court liaison is because had Lucy transfer to another station, it will be difficult to sync up their shift and they may not see each other everyday.

So this got me spiraling, say Tim and Lucy really want to maintain they see each other everyday or at least as often as possible, how would the story goes? Maybe Grey retires and Tim promoted as Watch Commander? or Tim move to other place aside from Metro but where? or Lucy not become a detective, but then how would her career go next?

really interested to hear your thoughts on this. thanks

I'm not really sure how this particular storyline would go… Here's the thing : as much as they want to see each other as often as possible, they also both want a career. Only, considering their line of work, that means long and unpredictable hours. This is something they're going to have to contend with. And honestly? This is the kind of conundrum most couples go through at some point in their relationship. It's all about finding a balance.

What makes this harder is the fact that they spent years riding together, working side by side all day every day. Going from this to only seeing each other a couple of hours per day was always going to require a period of adaptation. The long hours in Metro or as a detective add another layer. But despite this, they're still supporting the other in their respective career. As Tim said, they'll figure it out.

However, let's say they really want to see each other more often than their current positions allow them to… The ideal solution would be for both of them to take a desk job within the station. That's where they have the best chance to have a regular schedule. But Tim has already done that and the man looked miserable after just one week… That's what started the five-player trade in the first place. They love the action too much : in 5.21, Lucy asked him if he ever wished he had a normal job, one where he didn't get shot at, and he said no. So did she. Which rules out this option.

At the moment, I'd say Metro presents the biggest challenge. So one way to fix it would be for Tim to move somewhere with less demanding hours. Being the Watch Commander could indeed be a possibility since he has the rank - but only if Lucy is out of patrol. He didn't seem to particularly enjoy the job though. And it would be a shame to lose Grey. That still leaves plenty of other positions, like the ones mentioned by Lucy when she was trying to get him a better job : IA, Motor, SWAT, Robbery, Vice… Now Robbery and Vice could present an issue if Lucy makes detective, depending which department recruits her. SWAT would be just as bad as Metro, and I doubt Tim would be interested in working for IA. Motor could be an option. K9 too. They are other departments and positions of course, but I don't really know them. That said, while it wouldn't be as unpredictable as Metro, as a supervisor, he would still have long hours.

Lucy has three main options : stay in patrol (where she could become a TO), try the detective's exam (her current path) or take the sergeant's exam (Tim's path). But again, being a Sergeant is no less demanding than being a Detective : Tim was asked to pick an aide for that very reason and we saw him stay after-shifts as well. Patrol is where it would be ideal in terms of a 'regular' schedule (all things considered) and action. But Lucy hasn't shown any interest in becoming a TO or even staying in patrol. Not to mention that it would be quite close to Nolan's storyline…

In my opinion, the best solution would be for them to move in together. Sure, it doesn't solve the issue of the long hours… But at least, it eliminates time spent commuting from one house to the other.

[queeniecook]

May 1846

Mid to late May 1846 – Moonwood Mill

After almost a month of running here and there, not having any idea where she is wondering to – Lily finally feels the need to stop in a small town. She had depended on the kindness of strangers – some were very kind, some where not. She is tired of running. It has not erased the image of her beloved cousins as monsters from her head. Or the thing she saw masquerading as a noblewoman outside the Vatore mansion.

Lily takes in the view of the small town, it’s beautiful. It seems peaceful – so far. She notices there’s a lot of cut lumber, maybe it’s a mill of some sort? She wonders the dirt streets, not sure what she’s looking for.

It’s not long before a man approaches her, slowly and politely. He introduces himself as Kristopher Volkov. Lily introduces herself in return, manners are important to her.

Kristopher had recently inherited his position among his pack from his mother. He misses her dearly but is doing his best to carry on her work with their pack.

“Where am I, Mr. Volkov?” Lily asks softly.

“Moonwood Mill.” He answers. He can tell the poor woman is lost. Normally, his kind aren’t very open to human strangers but he senses something different in Miss Zhu. “It is going to rain soon, would you like a dry place to stay during the rain?” He asks her. He can smell the rain coming as well as feel it in his body. 

Lily pauses, normally a single woman going off with a man and one that she doesn’t know at that, would be extremely inappropriate as well as dangerous but her instincts are telling her that Kristopher can be trusted. She nods her head and softly says “Thank you.”

Once inside, the rain begins to beat down on the Volkov home. Kristopher for his part does his best to make Lily feel welcome, he offers her a cup of warm tea and some biscuits he made that very morning. They chat while the tea kettle warms the water for their drinks.

“What brings you to our humble town?” He asks the young woman before him. She gets a real distant look in her eyes as she stares off into space, as if relieving something. He’s patient. As a werewolf, he knows there’s things in life you don’t wish to speak about.

Lily finally snaps out of her memories. “I’m afraid you wouldn’t believe me if I told you. There’s time I hardly believe it but then I pinch myself and see it’s true.”

The tea kettle whistles, breaking the thick air that had settled in the kitchen. Kristopher pours them both a cup of tea and they settle in with their biscuits. He decides it’s best to change the subject and instead tells her things about the town, obviously leaving out certain things. He tells her about a local inn ran by a family friend. That she will allow Lily to stay there if she cleans the inn, that’s an arrangement that Mrs. Lunvik has used several times with people passing through. It works out well for the old woman.

A week passes and Lily has actually found herself enjoying her time in the town of Moonwood Mill. She cleans the inn for Mrs. Lunvik and has been spending time with Kristopher. Things were actually seeming normal and peaceful until the night of the full moon. That’s when Lily learns another shocking truth. Not only are their vampires, but there are also werewolves and that Kristopher is one of them. She thinks of running again but something deep down inside her tells her not to. She gingerly brings up what she saw to the werewolf that had helped her when she first showed up in town. He explains the history of werewolves to her and she confesses what happened to her cousins.

After learning that werewolves run Moonwood Mill as a safe haven for werewolves and those like them and are the natural enemies of vampires, Lily surprises herself in asking to becoming a werewolf. Not only does she want to protect others from suffering the same fate as her cousins but seeing Kristopher with his pack gives her the sense that they are family, something she no longer has. She wants that again.

Kristopher grants Lily her request after making sure it’s what she truly wants. The bite and first transformation are painful but being a werewolf helps Lily no longer feel powerless and helpless. She instantly feels a part of something, something she hadn’t even felt while human and surrounded by her family.

Meanwhile…

Though warned by the Count, the Vatore siblings had tracked down their cousin. Not to harm her but in hopes of talking to her. They had tracked her all the way to Moonwood Mill, which Straud had told them they are absolutely not allowed to step foot in. Instead, they hover around the border of the town.

“She is one of them now.” Caleb declares, feeling a pang in his chest he wasn’t quite used to anymore.

Lilth narrows her eyes, wrinkling her nose as the scent of werewolves hits her. She too is sad that her cousin is now a werewolf. “We can no longer reach her.” Until the transformation, they had a chance. Not anymore. It seems the Vatore siblings have truly lost what was left of her family. Their parents think them truly dead after an arranged train accident in Willow Creek by Count Straud himself. He had a buffet of the victims, much to Caleb’s disgust. Even Lilith had a few snacks, she said it was to end their suffering. Caleb simply left, he’s coming realize that he may need to go out on his own. He doesn’t agree with some of Vladislaus Straud’s ways.

“At least she has someone to care for her.” Caleb admits quietly, before speeding off followed closely by his sister.

[heinzpilsner]

Remember how I said I see only two explanations behind Zuko's irrational jealousy? Well, it seems like I somehow managed to overlook screaming non-verbal aspect of Mai's behavior!

Ugh, non-verbal stuff, why do you do this to me

So, here's a remake of my previous "Smart and serious"™ analysis of the situation!

(Why am I so stupid at being smart? I wish I could be smart at being stupid instead.)

In short it goes like this: Zuko took Mai's annoyed facial expression after he made his antipathy towards Ruon-Jian clear as an evidence that she likes the other boy.

That's all. No spicy or dramatic deeply hidden messages.

My inner conspiracy theorist is devastated.

(Still... You can't prove something's nonexistence~)

But here goes bonus content to anyone interested!

I couldn't help but indulge myself in a long and boring psychology lecture character study that would explain how Zuko ended up in this situation in the first place - from a slightly different angle than before, that is.

I wanna talk about Zuko's personality settings in more detail - in particular, about his dependent self-worth.

Contrast between people with different types of such settings was greatly demonstrated by Zuko's and Iroh's juxtaposition in first two seasons, actually.

Iroh doesn't care whether other people respect him or not - because his self-worth is unconditionally high. He values himself no matter circumstances and opinions, so his ego doesn't need protection from negative external evaluations.

His self-esteem though is (mostly) adequate - which means it isn't fixed in a perpetually high position. It allows him to see situation clearly, accept his bad circumstances humbly and work with them efficiently. If he's currently forced to become a beggar - well, he's going to beg alright, it's not a big deal.

Zuko's self-worth, on the other hand, is heavily affected by other people's evaluations. It makes his ego extremely vulnerable, and he has to protect it - sometimes with the help of inadequately high self-esteem.

So, when he believes someone thinks poorly of him, he has to belittle them ("peasants") and/or attack them. When it's impossible because of the person's autority though (like in case of his father), he's forced to agree with their low judgment - which is extremely stressful and painful and triggers another type of psychological defenses anyway.

(I guess this is what Iroh really wanted to say with his "pride is a source of shame" speach. Well, he's a vise man, but he's not exactly a psychologist, you know.)

So, in "The Beach", Zuko couldn't just calmly accept the fact that two random dudes didn't want to see him on their party - he immediately took offense.

Even though the reasons behind the boys' reluctance to invite Zuko in particular could be numerous, actually. From most practical ("We don't want you to burn the house down") and flattering ("We don't want any other hot guys at our party") to the most subjective ("Your haircut is awful, my eyes are bleeding"!)

I couldn't help it, could I?

But Zuko's ego was battered enough by his life, apparently, so this possibility didn't even occure to him.

So, as a result, Zuko had to look down on Ruon-Jian's (Chan's as well) personality and intelligence. Basically, that's what his "He thinks he's so great" was about.

(It doesn't necessarily mean the boys are not idiots though - but Zuko simply didn't have enough data to come to such a conclusion.)

But even after using this method of protection, Zuko couldn't fully stiffle his insecurities and self-doubt - because he had reasons (both right and wrong) to doubt himself.

(Especially since it was occuring on the background of the more general inner conflict: Zuko's father deems him worthy now, but the other autority of his life doesn't even want to speak with him. So Zuko's self-worth constantly jumps from heights to lows and he feels extremely confused and destabilized.)

And in such a situation, Zuko needed to get assurance from a person who was supposed to value him high.

Basically, his "What do you think about [Ruon-Jian]?" question towards Mai can be translated as: "Please, tell me what I'm right and he's an idiot, because otherwise I can't be sure in my own worth."

But Mai was not interested in encouraging Zuko's hostility towards other guys.

She reacted at Zuko's question with annoyance and answered honestly: she doesn't think anything about Ruon-Jian.

But Zuko didn't realize that his hostility looked inadequate to people who didn't see the situation from his ego's cocoon.

So he readed Mai's annoyance as her defense of Ruon-Jian.

And why would Mai defend someone unless she liked him?

The mystery is solved! What a great detective you are, Zuko!

Not as great as me though with all my ridiculous conspiracy theories induced by lack of attention

Something like this, I guess.

Thanks for your attention?

I ignore all notifications.

(Hmm, I think before working on next 'overanalysing Maiko' parts I'll have to analyze Mai's demeanor in book 2 more thoroughly. So it will take some time. ... Goddamit, I don't even like her! How on earth I ended up in this situation?

Oh yeah, I just wanted to make a "little psychological exercise". Lol.)

[aajjks]

Islam does not teach fathers to kill their daughters. It is true that many cultures in asia and the middle east would do that. But that is culture. Culture does not equate to religion. Islam in arabic literally means peace. It’s a religion that actually allows women power. The first person to make a university was a muslim woman. To say education is not allowed and that we are not allowed to succeed in our occupations is rude. Islam teaches you not to kill anyone unless you are being threatened, for example, in war or say you (feminist woman) are being attacked by a man and his intentions are wrong. So fathers killing daughters is out of the question. If anything a daughter is seen as a blessing. And for someone who is a feminist, you sure do hate it when women who want the opposite of what you do, choose to live the way they do. Isn’t that feminism is about? Letting men and women become equal and free in their choices? Actually, as a Muslim, I do not believe in equality, rather I believe in equity. You may not agree and that’s fine, but to me, men are protectors because most men are stronger than us. That doesn’t mean they are better than us or should hold power over us. And women are more nurturing. It doesn’t mean we are weaker or that we should give up our jobs to be parents. Men and women are different in certain categories and they will never be equal because of that.

Let me give you reasons as to why women are blessed in Islam:

1) She gets to have her own money. When a man asks her dad for marriage, he needs to give dowry. Which is basically him paying however much she asks for (this depends on the woman but it can be quite expensive) and if the man isn’t willing to pay - she can deny him.

2) Again, she gets her own money. Her money is HER money. His money is both of theirs. He is the one who has to pay for all the household things and for the kids - unless, she wishes to spend her money on him or on the house. He can never ask her for money unless she is the one to bring it up.

3) If she is unsatisfied in her marriage, she is allowed to divorce. She is not restricted to stay in the marriage. (If you have to say something against this - please learn the difference between arranged marriage and forced marriage).

4) She gets to choose if she wants to change her surname. The children have to have the dad’s surname but because she is not seen as his possession - she gets a choice.

5) Women are protected in in Islam. This is shown by the whole four wives thing. Nowadays, it is quite uncommon because at the beginning of the religion, war used to happen a lot. So many men died and there were like 3:1 ratio of women:men. So to help widows and stop this big difference - it was allowed to ensure safety and protection for those who weren’t able to have it. Nowadays, war obviously doesn’t happen to such a mass degree but there are still more women than men. Also, if the first wife says she doesn’t want him to get married, then he can’t. Additionally, he has to treat all wives equally so if he cannot do that, he is failing at his job, and is therefore, rejecting half of his religion (as marriage counts towards 50% of our faith). Again, it is up to his wife whether he can married again.

6) We believe God created men and women from the same soul, as guardians of each other in a relationship of cooperation not domination.

We need to stop victimising women who are making choices of their own autonomy. Just like you choose to live the way you do and nobody questions you, why should you question someone else who lives differently to you?

OH MY GOD THANK YOU FOR THIS

Our religion is absolutely beautiful and peaceful. Exactly, culture ≠ religion.

[rogueofsoup]

Ok so I know this is supposed to be funny because of the lack of an explanation for the lyrics but I'm Autistic™ and this got me thinking so HERE WE FUCKING GO-

My Entire Review On The Song With My Personal Theories For What Each Part Means:

________

~(vocalization start)~

"There used to be a greying tower alone on the sea" - the 'tower' is the singer in question, saying they were isolated/lonely and felt like they were 'greying', which could mean going through depression (this isn't going to be the only time this is mentioned)

"And you became the light on the dark side of me" - a person the singer fell in love with became a sort of beacon of hope for them in their darkest times

"Love remained a drug that's the high and not the pill" - love being 'the high' makes it the effect of what's going on here, likely meaning the singer is sort of getting addicted to the person because they make them feel love

"But did you know that when it snows

My eyes become large and

The light that you shine can't be seen?" - this could mean the singer is talking about major depressive episodes (snow, with that being cold) in which even love (light) can't break through to them, even though they desperately need it (hence the eyes becoming large, allowing in more light)

"Baby, I compare you to a kiss from a rose on the grey" - most of the time depression isn't all darkness, it's usually very 'grey', and a rose is generally seen as having very vivid colors, a kiss from which could symbolize a short break from the monochrome without necessarily curing it

"Ooh, the more I get of you, stranger it feels, yeah" - this could mean the more the singer is with this person, emotions are slowly returning after so long with them dulled, making them strange and hard to recognize

"And now that your rose is in bloom

A light hits the gloom on the grey" - a blooming rose is, of course, much more spread out than one that isn't yet in bloom, which allows more color to fill the singer's metaphorical vision and remind them what color is like, allowing 'light' (hope, joy, etc) to hit and shine through the dark gloom (depression) that causes the monotone 'grey' (how depression makes you feel 90% of the time)

~(vocalization break)~

"There is so much a man can tell you

So much he can say

You remain my power, my pleasure, my pain, baby" - this is the singer trying to tell their loved one that they are the conduit with which they can now experience emotion again, 'you let me feel pride (power), you let me feel positive emotions (pleasure), you make me care enough to be hurt by things and cry (pain)' (depression numbs ALL emotions, not just the positive ones)

"To me, you're like a growing addiction that I can't deny

Won't you tell me, is that healthy, baby?" - the singer is aware of their dependency on their loved one, and is worried it may not be a healthy attachment (keep in mind their loved one isn't 'curing' their depression, the metaphorical light and color from them isn't 'spreading', it's just a break from the monotone and darkness)

(pre-chorus that means "I still have my depressive episodes even you can't help with")

(chorus that means "you're still my short relief in depression")

"I've been kissed by a rose on the grey

I, I've been kissed by a rose on the grey" - this could mean the singer has experienced that break

"And if I should fall, will it all go away?

I, I've been kissed by a rose on the grey" - this suggests the singer is not yet in a relationship with this person, and they're wondering if they did, would the relationship cure their depression

Aaaaand it's all just repeated lyrics after this. Voilá, my complete theory on what this song means.

TL;DR: It's a song about depression, and finding someone that gives the singer a break from that no matter how brief which they quickly become dependent on, and the wishful thinking that if they just got in a relationship with this person their depression would eventually clear up.

It's honestly pretty sad when you see it like that. Don't know who needs to hear this, but a relationship during depression is not the answer, and will not cure it.

The song "Disappear" by Karliene actually has a pretty good description of what it feels like to try to keep up a relationship though depression, describing it as difficult to keep up due to the gloom of depression making it hard to feel, even love.

This makes the story of this person who found someone who acts as a break from the gloom in "Kiss from a Rose" that much more heartbreaking. They see this bit of relief and become dependent on it, putting the pressure of their emotional state on this person which would only grow worse in a romantic relationship.

So…

Uh…

Yeah.

Ok am I, stupid or do a fair portion of the lyrics to Kiss From A Rose just not make any sense at all