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space-blue · 1 month ago

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Fixing Vander and Silco's story (a bit)

Using canon events! Sadly we can't actually fix it, but I hope this makes it a little better. I make my own edit proposal at the end that changes the bar scene to include Felicia without issues.

They meet in the mines, and meet Felicia and her partner there too. They end up together somehow (I think we can put the brotherly allegations to rest now, eh?) and one of them (or both) inherit/buy a bar.

Although Vander is the barman, there is no indication Silco doesn't own or co-own the place. After all he comes to take it eventually as his own, and he's still not bartending. That's just not his gig.

It's implied that Vander and Silco made it, as in, got away from the mines, while Felicia clearly didn't, as she comes home to both her daughters with mining gear and gloves.

So despite Vander and Silco building the Lanes together, the mines aren't closed, and the work "isn't done".

Felicia says they've done it, and Vander is happy to celebrate their success. Meanwhile, Silco has his "NoZ" Nation of Zaun book in which he's scribbling, still planning.

Vander's first memory that Viktor sees even has Silco holding that book.

Later, in season 1 episode 3, we see that Vander tells Silco that he had Vander's respect, the Lanes' respect, but it "was never enough".

There's also this fakeout moment in the memory at the bar, where Vander says they're done, and Silco replies with "You're gravely mistaken". And I thought he was going to go all zealous and say "We'll only be done when we have the Nation of Zaun", but no, he claims he's Bozo 1.

And imo, he is probably right. He calls out Vander in act 1 saying "I trusted you and you betrayed me", and Vander does not contest this. It makes the most in character sense as well that Silco is the brains of the operation while Vander is the brawn.

And we can conclude that Silco's goals were always "bigger" and that the Lanes were indeed not enough.

Years pass, during which we can only assume Silco keeps building his Nation of Zaun and Vander happily bartends and manages the Lanes with Silco. Felicia keeps working the mines and raises Vi, then Powder.

Vi is at least 11, if not more, by the time she's on the bridge. This is just consistent with her model, but also to make her 18+ by the time of act 2.

It's a long ass time for Vander and Silco to be running a bar and the Lanes together. Even assuming Vi is more 8 or 9yo, Vander and Silco spend all that time being together.

Sadly, their models aren't aged very well.

We are also forced here to make some unfortunate assumptions.

It's not a problem, IMO, for Silco to know Felicia and be close to her. It's a problem for him to not be close to Vi and Powder too. Close enough to recognise them at least.

It's easy to say, "Well, Felicia went back to the mines and raised her kids and wasn't super involved with Vander and Silco, who lived much higher up in their bar." Adult friendships and all that.

IT MAKES SENSE, but then it makes zero sense that Vander would murder his life's partner, a man he's been with 10 years at MINIMUM (fuck knows how long they were together while in the mines), over the death of a friend in a revolt they allegedly BOTH participated in.

The memories also imply that Silco is responsible somehow, for throwing a molotov. And yet the molotov doesn't kill the enforcer.

But Vander is shown in the opening of Act 1 season 1 pummeling one to death himself, long after the rest of the revolt has died down. That enforcer wasn't getting back up lol

So whatever we pick, because the writers made Felicia and Silco close, they create a plot hole either way.

Either Vander is whacko and murders his husband over a dead friend at a revolt he set up (since he repeatedly apologises for what he did, and claims he "lost his head after she died" and had that guilt on his hands too)

Or Silco and Vi and Powder spend ALL of season 1 acting like they don't know each other at all. Then Silco takes in Powder and somehow never comments on the fact he was friends with her mom.

Everything being triggered by Felicia's death also means that Vander's emotional thematic moment dropping the gauntlets after seeing what his violence led to is then followed up by a horrible attempted murder on the love of his life, which is... you know. Bad writing.

So I propose that they indeed drift apart. Silco knows of Felicia's kids, and they hangout a bit, but they aren't that close. She's busy mining and being a mom, and Silco is busy making the safe Zaun he promised to deliver.

The creation of that Zaun leads them to act out revolts and uprisings. Vander is happy to follow. He's angry, like he tells Vi. And this manifests in violence. Silco points his violence. It's how they create the Lanes and the moniker of Hound of the Underground. A hound usually has a master, after all.

Vander is Silco's hound, and I think, in Vander's mind this absolves him of some of the consequences of his actions.

So when his friend dies on the Bridge, even if they haven't been that close in a while, well, it's easy to put the blame on Silco.

Since we're following the new canon timeline... we'll have to have him go back with the girls, ready to turn a new leaf.

I think the best way here is to have him either dropping them at an orphanage, or back at their home (trusting Vi to look after Powder for a while) or with friends.

That way, Vi and Powder aren't immediately in Silco's legs back at the drop.

Then Vander and Silco take part in the "clean up" at the bridge. They go get bodies, and since they have no real estate in the fissures, they commit them to the sea (we have canon monsters in there, so I'm sure it all gets gobbled up).

That way, we explain why Vander is weirdly shaved, and why Silco and him are at in the Pilt: they just commited the bodies of the fallen to the waters.

There may have been many others, but Silco and Vander stay there, in the shallows, as they talk.

Vander is done. He doesn't want more of this. He thinks Silco went too far with pushing this one to the bridge. Piltover got defensive and they lost too many people.

Silco doesn't get it. Where he goes, so does Vander, but Vander is his own man, he decided to come too, and he killed enforcers too. Felicia's death is tragic, but as he later will tell Renni about the death of her son: at least she died fighting for the cause, and not some petty infighting, or worse, an accident at the shitty mines.

Vander, the Hound, is not only mad with grief, he refuses to carry the blame of his own actions. It's a character flaw and that's fine! The angry man channels that anger with violence, the only way he knows how.

Silco is probably shocked, and may not say the right things to calm Vander down.

Silco is under the assumption that Vander BELIEVES IN HIS DREAM. That he's a true believer of the Nation of Zaun, like Sevika turns out to be. A true believer would understand sacrifice. A true believer would understand too, that stopping now, after Felicia's death, would make THAT VERY DEATH POINTLESS.

So maybe he screams at Vander! What do you MEAN abandoning the fight? What do you mean, being content with the Lanes? How dare you? You'd make her sacrifice meaningless! You'd make Felicia die a pointless death!

And Vander would bellow that it's over. No more death. No more bloodshed. He rescued her kids from that bridge, and they don't deserve to die too, they don't deserve to see more death.

And Silco screams back that it's their job to create Zaun so these children won't have to see more death. Vander is just delaying the struggle.

And then, perhaps, Silco may even mock him. Say that Vander can't change like that. That he's not that sort of person, to just hang up his gauntlets and go peaceful. That Felicia's blood is on his hands too, and that the only way out is through more blood, more sacrifice.

It would be a horrible point to make, if then Vander truly loses it. Silco runs, and Vander's hound comes out, just grabbing Silco and trying to drown him.

It would be poetic, because then Vander goes home in shame. Gets his arm patched up, hides the scar under a brace, collects the kids and tries to pretend like HE CAN BE THAT MAN. Even though he surrendered his gauntlets and metaphorical violence, and tries to lean into the bartender chill persona, there's what he did to Silco.

And later he'll tell Vander "I'll show you what you really are". Because Silco knows that Vander's promises of being a peaceful good dad are flimsy at best.

Anyway, Vander goes home, and eventually the impact of what he's done really hits him. He's single now, and with kids, and the Lanes to run, and nobody knows where Silco is.

Vander slowly realises Silco was right about one thing. Just because Vander followed, doesn't mean he wasn't behind that event on the bridge. Becoming the solo leader of the Lanes has to have hammered that home for him. Suddenly so much responsibility thrust on him.

So Felicia's death was on him too, and his actions against Silco are the proof that he is indeed the sort of man Silco said he was. At any rate, surrendering violence as his first reaction to any trigger will take a lot of work.

He goes to their old hideout and leaves a letter for Silco.

In the happy AU, Silco finds it, and returns to Vander BEFORE ever meeting Singed. There is no glowing eye, no shimmer, and no cannery.

In our AU, Silco never finds the letter. He finds Singed instead. Starts helping him develop shimmer.

I've been thinking that since the goal of shimmer is a form of "keeping alive" and also "bringing back to life", then it's possible that Silco's glowing eye is a byproduct of shimmer experimentation.

And that the only way to keep it alive and function is more shimmer injections. It would otherwise be grey and dead like in the Nice AU.

So Singed is also a factor here. He gives our Silco a real way to deal scary violence to Piltover. And this changes our Silco. He's more radicalised, and more opposed to Vander, having discovered that Vander works with Grayson to keep Zaun under Piltover's boot (basically making sure the boot stays, but doesn't press down too hard).

Vander is, as always, the enforcer of the status quo.

And though this works for them timeline wise, it sadly doesn't change the fact that Silco should know who Vander's kids are.

Vi and Jinx can be excused for not recognising him, what with him being one of their mom's adult friends, and scarred. But Silco doesn't have that luxury. His great friend Felicia had two very distinctive kids, ONE OF WHICH VANDER FUCKING NAMED! And her death triggered his husband so badly he tried to kill Silco over it. If anything, Silco would be hyper-aware of Felicia's kids.

And no amount of alternate fix-its changes that. It's permanent damage to season 1's Silco.

I feel like we can fix Vander's side of things by inventing an entire scene at the Pilt as I did above, but we can't fix 10 years of knowing your friend's kids and then a lifetime of acting like you don't know them.

I think it also cheapens the found family aspect of both Vander and Silco's adoption. You're left to wonder if they took in the girls only because they were friends with the mom.

Silco's adoption of Jinx and co-dependence with her was great because it spoke of the similar shape of their traumas, and how unexpected their bond seemed.

But now it's redolent of friendly obligation. And lies.

How would I fix it by keeping Felicia in the picture?

I would fully remove Felicia's one-on-one with the boys. That night at the bar? It's a party. Young Sevika is here too!

Felicia and many others are there, all congratulating Vander and Silco over the creation of the Lanes. Eventually Silco tires of the social niceties and goes to write in his notebook at the bar. Or maybe there's a montage of the night as the crowds thin.

In the end, Silco is writing, and Vander is still socialising. He talks to 3 people--Felicia, her husband, and a random person. They thank him for all his work. They've done it! And the conditions in the mines are so much better now thanks to XYZ!

Vander is beaming, he's just so pleased. It's clear for him this is the end goal. Felicia asks him, pointing to Silco, if he's okay.

Vander laughs, says Silco is fine, but he's already got his head back in the clouds. You see, Silco doesn't just want the Lanes, he dreams of a free Nation of Zaun.

The other 2 laugh, but Felicia sobers up. She rubs her belly, thoughtful. Then she says "Sounds like a dream worth fighting for."

I don't think she even needs to say anything about being pregnant, but she could go on with something like "I'm expecting. A girl, I think. I know. And I would love if she could grow in a safe city. I'm so scared she'll have to live the way I did, growing up.'

And Vander smiles sadly and tells her, 'We've gotten this far, and we're not going back. We'll make Zaun safe for your kiddo, I promise you that.'

And that's it.

Vander knows OF Felicia. She is a community member. He knows her enough, maybe from Lanes meetings, that eventually he can recognise her children. But they're not friends, and SILCO definitely isn't friends.

And the disagreement after the bridge is fully about where to go from then on, and Vander deciding he wants to run the Lanes and keep them safe, that what they have now is good enough, while Silco wants "more".

That disagreement can turn nasty, and the fact Vander tried to drown Silco becomes a statement about how violent and temperamental he is as "The Hound of the Underground". Something he'll regret soon enough and spend the next few years working hard to try and change.

What do you think?

#vander #Silco #arcane #arcane meta #zaundads #vanco #vi arcane #powder arcane #jinx #felicia arcane #zaun #arcane 2 #arcane s2 #arcane spoilers #arcane silco #arcane vander #long post #meta

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writey-mcwriteface · 2 months ago

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i’m holding your hands and looking you in your eyes. they gave us the billy kiss scene before the agathario kiss scene specifically BECAUSE agathario is the main romantic relationship of the show. billy’s relationship with his boyfriend is important because it adds context to his character. it tells us more about him. they gave us their scene in the sixth episode because their relationship is not narratively important.

at this point, i am confident that agathario is one of the key focuses of the show. their kiss, the climax of the tension they’ve been building from the start, will likely take place in the eighth episode, at the climax of the story itself, because their relationship IS narratively important!

i get that a lot of fans are worried about not getting the representation we thought we would. i understand that many of us are thinking back to other shows that let us down with representation, especially with wlw representation, because i definitely am. but nothing we’ve seen from agatha all along has indicated that we will be let down. in fact, i strongly believe that everything we’ve seen so far indicates the opposite.

agathario is definitively not queerbait. their scenes have been explicitly romantic, and the writers have made it very clear that they have a long, painful history. i promise you that it would be unthinkable for agathario not to have a climactic moment. i promise you that we will learn more about their relationship, because failing to do so would completely deny all of the set up they’ve done so far. and i do solemnly believe that there will be a kiss.

the moral of the story is that just because there was an mlm kiss before a wlw kiss, it doesn’t mean that the mlm kiss is more important. in fact, i think it means that the wlw kiss is more important because it isn’t taking place at a completely random point in the show. i’ve seen far too many people lamenting that we saw billy’s kiss scene first, when this perspective denies the realities of effective storytelling.

have patience. let yourself trust. feel the fear and let it go. kathryn hahn wouldn’t fucking do this to us.

#agatha all along #agatha all along spoilers #agathario #agatha x rio #rio x agatha #agatha harkness #rio vidal #billy maximoff #wlw #mlm

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ambrosia-vinca · 1 month ago

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There's a kind of defensive attitude towards criticism re:Lucanis' romance in many corners of the fandom that I partially understand because Veilguard gets a lot of shit thrown at it, and if you enjoy something you naturally want to defend it. But this type of attitude also rubs me the wrong way when people who loved the way his romance played out say that anyone criticizing it must just not understand slow burns/not like slow burn as a genre/not understand Lucanis' character and his trauma properly/must have been expecting explicit sex scenes and a Zevran 2.0.

Maybe some people criticizing his romance don't like slow burns, or were wrongly expecting him to be a sex god, or ignore his trauma. I've seen a few. But that's not all the criticism there is.

Personally, I love slow burns, it's my favorite genre both to read and write (I'm the type of fic writer to think up 200k words enemies to lovers longfics where they've barely kissed after 100k words). I'm also the type of ace person who's not into extremely explicit sex scenes or super kinky romances (especially with male dom stuff, which I personally dislike). And lastly, I'm the type who picks the angstiest possible romance choice.

All this to say that Lucanis and his romance were theoretically made in a lab for me. Slow burn because the character doesn't trust easily and is traumatized by his past experiences and has many things he must resolve, excruciatingly slow to open up? Unexpectedly very sweet, wet, sad man with puppy eyes? Romance scenes that are caring and romantic instead of outright steamy? Perfect, right up my alley! I keep romancing Fenris in DA2 exactly for that reason because I love him dearly, and he breaks up with Hawke for 3 whole years! Still my favorite!

But the whole point of a slow burn are the steps. It's a slow burn, which means little step by little step, the relationship slowly builds to a conclusion, from tentative acquaintances who don't trust each other, to slooowly evolve into something more, and it's precisely these crumbs that make the trope enjoyable.

To me, Lucanis' romance doesn't feel like it does little steps, it feels like it skips steps. I can see the main story beats of a good slow burn, but not the crumbs that make a slow burn. I don't want him and Rook to jump each other after 2 scenes, I want to see more of the fumbling, the hesitation, the dancing around each other. No, dragon age isn't a romance game, I'm aware, but if romance is an option, and it is written to fit a specific trope, I would like it done properly. They've done slowburns and angsty before, and they were good (even Solas', and his romance is super short). I want the evolution of the relationship shown to me, not told in broad strokes and big steps, and I don't want to have to write half the romance in my head or rely on ao3.

We get nothing between the coffee date and the almost kiss, absolutely no reaction of any kind to the flirting, not even a blink. If Lucanis and Rook were capable of having an entire conversation about coffee and kisses metaphors when they barely knew each other, then I think they can flirt a bit more in the following conversations when you pick the romantic option, dance around each other, have Lucanis fumble a little more like he does with Neve when he actually registers Rook is sincerely into him. Even just a sign that he heard Rook when they pick the romantic option in the following conversations, because as it is he immediately resumes whatever he was saying. And if his lack of reaction is because he's suddenly afraid and thinks it's a bad idea, I would like it shown on his face, or as an actual noticeable pause/hesitation. It didn't look like he thought it was a bad idea at Café Pietra, unless he just thought Rook was flirting just to flirt and wasn't serious, but again, none of that is hinted at in any way.

Then there's the almost kiss that follows and is the first actually romantic moment we get after the coffee date, and suddenly Lucanis is all smooth and confident about flirting again. With nothing in between ever since *Illario voice* he got all romantic about roasts. Was he reluctant before and that's why he didn't react to Rook's flirting/caring concern? We have no idea, because while he warns Rook it's a bad idea to be attracted to him, he doesn't seem scared, more amused at their daredevil tendencies. The first time in his entire romance we get a clear indication he's afraid and won't open up for a long time is at the end of this specific scene, when he pulls away, and the way it happens is like Lucanis himself wasn't expecting his fear to overcome him. He wants, he lets himself be pulled forward, and then he suddenly gets drowned by overwhelming terror, and he pulls away.

The beginning of the romance (the date + almost kiss) reads to me as if Lucanis was trying to forget the Ossuary, letting himself flirt and feel attraction and just simply live again as if nothing happened, believing if he didn't think about his trauma and forcefully moved forward then it would stay buried, and then the Ossuary unexpectedly caught up to him, because you don't just bury things like that, it always comes back up at some point if you make no effort to actually process what happened.

And then there's nothing again for a long while. I can imagine Rook leaving space for Lucanis because they're considerate of his feelings and they can see something is deeply wrong, but still, something big and awkward happened between them! Not even one conversation where they try to gently broach the subject and Lucanis immediately clams up? What about some mentions of how awkward things suddenly are between the two? Even through party banter? We got plenty about Hawke and Fenris' situationship in DA2 after Fenris pulls away. The other companions comment on their breakup and how it's painfully obvious they're in love still, no matter what happened, and there are a few banters between Hawke and Fenris themselves. Surely things are a little tense and awkward between Rook and Lucanis as well at that point, and their friends would notice? They don't spend as much time together as they used to, Lucanis doesn't talk directly to Rook much anymore unless he has to, can't quite look them in the eye, doesn't want to stay alone in a room with them. He is still protective of them because he obviously cares very much, but can't bring himself to have an honest talk about his feelings and fears because he's still completely locked in his mind prison and would rather deal with his problems by stabbing his enemies.

Rook being lost because they haven't been inside his head yet and they're not sure if it's because of what Lucanis has been through, or if they did something wrong to get them rejected, and they're stuck because Lucanis completely refuses to open up. There are so many little things that could have been implemented to actually serve as the little steps for the slow burn. You're telling me even Emmrich or Neve, perceptive as they are, wouldn't have noticed their two friends suddenly being awkward and sad and not try to talk to Rook about it at the very least?

And then there's the mind prison where Rook gets all Lucanis' fears and insecurities explicitly told to them. Immediately followed by the scene where you lock in the relationship as he makes them dessert.

Were they in a relationship?? When did they get together? Do they get together right there in the kitchen by the sheer power of cake (ok, relatable)? You don't know! They almost kiss, things are theoretically painfully awkward between them for a while, Rook discovers the substance of his trauma, and poof. They're a couple. Yes, I know that Lucanis' love language is acts of service, but did they communicate at all at any point about what's going on between them? Surely even if Rook helping him out of his head puts him on the road to eventual recovery, it didn't suddenly erase all of Lucanis' trauma and fears and doubts.

I liked Rook calling out the subtext of what Lucanis says in that scene (“it's nothing, or not enough”/”it is, and you are”), I did think it was sweet and perceptive of them. But still, we go from attraction to pulling away to suddenly committing to a relationship with never actually discussing exactly what goes on between them. Never outright deciding they want to try something serious. There wouldn't have been much actual flirting or sincere conversations between them after the almost-kiss, for obvious reasons, so how does Lucanis know Rook hasn't moved on/isn't angry at him after all this time, considering how they didn't communicate at all afterwards and he's not exactly the best at feelings and self-confidence? He just talks as if it's a given they're attracted to him still, and only worries about not being good enough for them. I wanted crumbs of reassurance from Rook, more than what we got, because Lucanis' probable guilt is never actually tackled in any way – he had perfectly valid reasons to pull away, of course, but considering how much he blames himself for anything and everything, I'm pretty sure he would also blame himself for hurting Rook's feelings, even if they're understanding and not actually angry with him at all.

Idk. I have a lot of thoughts, especially about the middle of his romance. The last big scene we get is one of my favorites through all dragon age games, it was so sweet, but I still felt like the entire middle part of the romance lacked a lot of slow burn crumbs, and I was still hungry when I got to the end.

#lucanis dellamorte #lucanis x rook #rookanis #dragon age veilguard #veilguard spoilers #veilguard critical

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missadangel · 3 months ago

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The Heart of Rome (Marcus Acacius x OC)

All Chapters List

VI. The Battle

this is the longest chapter i ever wrote , it was pain in the ass, so please be nice, reblog and hit a like, if you enjoy thank you :)

lupus est homo homini

A man to a man is a wolf.

T. Hobbes

Temple of Saturn…

Saturnalia was by far the most joyous Roman festival; the Roman poet Catullus famously described it as ‘the best of times’. The festivities were so exuberant that the Roman writer Pliny is said to have had a soundproof room built so that he could work during the raucous celebrations. During Saturnalia, business and commerce would come to a standstill. Schools and courts were closed and normal social practices were suspended. The feast was celebrated with sacrifices and a public banquet in the Temple of Saturn in the Roman Forum.

People decorated their houses with garlands, even the exteriors of official buildings were decorated with greenery. People were dressed in different colours for this day, unlike their daily and official clothes. The streets of Rome were lively and colourful today.

You travelled to the temple with your half-brothers, Caracalla and his mother Julia Domna in the flamboyant carriage in front, and you and Geta - at his insistence - in the carriage behind them. Even though you felt that Geta was treating you more cordially now, you still couldn't be completely sure. But he was certainly different from Caracalla and his mother, they had a ruthless side that never changed, and you were sure that you could not trust them under any circumstances.

Already the ostentatious temple was crowded with people, the Romans seemed to be enjoying the day of festivities. They were shouting your names with great enthusiasm as you got out of the carriages and greeted them. One of them was handing you a bouquet of flowers when one of the guards blocked him. You told him to move away and thanked him as you took the flowers, he was so surprised and happy that he started dancing with joy. His mates joined him and chanted your name. Geta gave your arm a gentle but firm grip. 'You have to be a bit more careful. You never know what they'll do.'

'It's just a few flowers,' you replied. 'And why would they hurt me?'

He smiled, but his eyes showed his concern. 'You're so naive, sister. There's so much you have to learn. Let's get these ceremonies over with, I'm dying to get to the banquet.’

As you walked up the stairs of the temple, you noticed that he was still holding your arm.

'Are you feeling better now?' you asked, trying to pull your arm back, but for some reason he wouldn't let go. It bothered you. 'Could I just ask you to let go of my arm, please?'

He paused and looked at you with his light brown eyes. He looked like he wanted to tell you something, but it was hard to know what emotion he was feeling. All of a sudden, he smiled. "I think the disgusting herbal concoction worked.'" He took his hand away and started up the stairs faster. You tried to keep up with him, but he was too fast, and Caracalla was waiting for him at the top of the steps. '"You're slow," he grumbled. Julia squinted at you and went inside. It seemed like you were going to have to get used to that look.

After the ceremony of sacrificing a young pig in front of the statue of the god Saturn, just between the tall white pillars inside the temple, Geta approached you as you prayed to the great statue then gestured you to outside and walked towards the stairs to leave, followed by Caracalla, who took his mother by the arm. You'd have to get used to walking side by side with them, but it still felt a bit strange. People were coming to the temple to sacrifice, just like you, and they were all turning to look at you and greet you.

"I want to get to the palace for the banquet as soon as possible," Geta said, sounding a bit impatient.

"You must be hungry. You were busy this morning," he said quietly.

You looked at him and said, "Yes, you're right, thanks again, by the way, much appreciated, highness."

"Oh, these stairs... Hold out your arm," he said in a commanding tone.

Geta was wearing a white and black toga with gold embroidery and it was very elaborate. He looked like he was struggling and didn't like you looking at him hesitantly. "Aren't you going to help me?"

You forced a smile and held out your arm for him to take. It was starting to feel a little strange that he wanted to touch you all the time, but you didn't object because you wanted to be on good terms as brother and sister.

You noticed an old woman approaching you just after descending the steps. One of the guards pushed her away and she fell to the ground. Geta ignored her, as did Caracalla and his mother. It bothered you so much that you let go of Geta's arm and walked over there.

You ignored the guard's warning and helped the woman off the floor. Her clothes were torn, dirty and old; she must have been a beggar. You felt sorry for her.

'What are you doing?' Geta was upset.

The woman bowed her head. 'My lady, thank you.'

You turned to Geta. 'Could I possibly borrow some coins?’

‘Get away from her, look at the way she's dressed, she's filthy.’ He was looking at her with a disgusted expression.

‘It's festival day and as emperor, shouldn't you embrace all your people?’

He opened his eyes wide. ‘Embrace? I can't even lay a hand on her!’ He balled his hands into fists and pulled them back as if trying to hide them.

‘I meant metaphorically,’ you rolled your eyes at him.

Geta took a moment to compose himself and gestured to one of his slaves, who came running over with a pouch full of coins. You took it from him and presented it to her.

'May the gods bless you, Lady Aurelia!' she said, falling at your feet. You graciously took her by the hand and lifted her up.

‘That is enough,' Geta said, grasping your arm and drawing you closer. As the woman prayed joyfully, the crowd began to murmur.

“Long live Emperor Geta!” The crowd began to chant, "Long live Lady Aurelia!"

Geta was taken aback not by the fact that they were shouting his name, but rather by the proximity of the crowd. It was the first time he had ever felt so close to the people on the street.

'Please be sure to wash your hands thoroughly when you arrive at the palace,' he muttered.

You giggled and looked around as he greeted the people, but you did not see the general. He had said he was coming to the banquet anyway, so you got into the carriage with Geta, hoping to see him there, and you thought about him the whole way.

Domus Severiana…

As the sun began to set, casting the courtyard and kitchen of Domus Severiana in a golden glow, preparations were underway with great enthusiasm. The slaves were meticulously preparing a selection of exquisite dishes and beverages for the guests who were expected to take their place in the main courtyard. Julia was there to oversee the proceedings, offering guidance and encouragement to ensure everything was just right. Caracalla was already relaxing in one of the armchairs in the courtyard, enjoying an apple. When one of the slaves unfortunately stumbled and dropped the tray, he reacted with amusement, but then proceeded to issue a firm reprimand. While this was taking place in the main courtyard, you were in your room, discussing attire with Decima, when the door to your room suddenly opened. You were startled when Geta rushed in, as you wearing your long, thin tunic.

"Even if you're the emperor, it's always worth being polite, don't you think?"

He smiled. "Watch your tone. Who says I'm interested in your body anyway?" He looked away as a slave girl walked in. The girl was carrying a light turquoise silk cloth in her arms.

"You always wear the same style of dress, your hair the same way, you don't look like a princess. You should take some care of yourself. So this girl, what's her name, what's your name?”

“Nerissa, your highness-”

"Oh, whatever!" he interjected. "Make sure you dress her and do the princess's hair with care." He turned to you. "She's got amazing hands-on skills. You wouldn't believe what she can do. She's really talented," he said with a grin.

She giggled. “Anything for my emperor.”

‘I'm assuming your whore friend isn't that talented,’ he said, narrowing his eyes, looking at Decima.

‘Please don't call her that,’ you snapped.

‘'Weren't you supposed to take her on my behalf? She's my slave, I can call her whatever I want,’ he said smugly.

It was true anyway as it was his name on the documents.

‘Still, courtesy is a virtue, brother.’‘

"Not for me,’ he said, grinning. ‘Get dressed now,’ he said, clapping his hands. “Join me in the main courtyard when you're done,” he said to his slave, then turned to you. “You too, sister."

You inhaled deeply when he left, you didn't like him barging into your room like that and talked badly about Decima.

He was acting like a naughty little child, as usual.

'Please excuse him,' you said Decima.

She shook her head. 'Never mind, I'd rather put up with a lot of insults here than there as a whore. I'll always remember what you did for me.’

You gave her a hug. She felt like your real family; you valued her a great deal.

'He was right though, you need to get dressed,' Decima said, and with the help of the other girl they began to dress you.

Meanwhile, you were thinking about Marcus. You were wondering if he'd arrived already. You hadn't seen him since morning and now you were getting impatient. Your answer to his marriage proposal is already set in your mind. But you were also worried about how Geta and Caracalla would react – it was hard to predict what they'd do.

'You were certainly born to be a princess, my lady,' she said, looking at you.

Decima smiled. 'Indeed.'

You looked in the mirror and thought you looked pretty good in the turquoise gold embroidered dress and shawl, which matched the gold bracelets on your arms and the necklace around your neck. Geta was right – the girl had done your hair perfectly. One of the braids had gone over the top of your head like a crown and was pinned into the hair at the nape of your neck.

'You're really talented. My brother was right.’

She gave a shy smile. 'I'm really pleased to be able to help prepare such a beautiful lady as you.'

You smiled back. 'Now, you can go to my brother. He seems to like you.'

Her cheeks flushed a little. It would be a good idea for you to get to know her better, since Geta seems to like her.

'Let me know if he's not feeling well, okay?' 'But you've got to keep it between us, can I trust you?'

'Of course, my lady.' She nodded.

Once she'd left the room, Decima came over to help you with your earrings. She still had bruises on her face.

'Have you been using the ointment I prepared for you?’

‘Yes, thank you, Ay-, my lady.’

‘Call me Aurelia when no one's around.’

‘I suppose, I'll have to get used to it.’

She combed the hair that was falling on your shoulder.

'You stay in the room and rest for today.’ You said to her.

Although she was a bit reluctant at first, she agreed. It was already a very busy day, so no one would notice.

As you left your room and headed for the stairs, you found that the weight of the fabric made it a bit difficult to move your legs freely. You made your way down the stairs, grabbed hold of the gold-embroidered railing for support. As you strolled towards the main courtyard, your heart started to beat faster when you heard the sounds of masculine laughter coming from inside. Geta and Caracalla were sitting at the banqueting hall, enjoying the food and drink that was laid out in front of them. The members of the Senate, the patricians and their wives were already settled in their seats. Julia was sitting next to Caracalla, chatting with an older member of the Senate.

As soon as you entered the hall, you were the focus of everyone's attention, and the murmuring ceased. Even the slaves paused in their activities to observe you, but then they resumed their tasks. Geta stood up and approached you. "Look how gorgeous my sister is. Would you come and take your seat?" He gestured to the seat next to him. You smiled at him and did as he said, the murmuring had returned, now everyone was looking at you and chatting. But the only person you wanted to see, Marcus, was nowhere to be seen, and you looked around with a hint of disappointment.

"My lady." Your cousin Gaius came over to you. "May I speak to you privately for a moment?" he held out his hand.

"Leave my sister alone and let her eat something, Gaius," Geta said, a little annoyed. He was still chewing the morsel in his mouth, and you pursed your lips to try to keep from laughing. Caracalla already laughed for you.

"That's alright, brother. I'll be right back," you said and stood up. Gaius seemed a little annoyed that you ignored his hand, but he regained his composure quickly. You were not particularly curious about what he was going to say, but it might be a good way to pass the time until the general arrived. As you walked slowly with Gaius from the main courtyard to the one close to the entrance, you realized he was becoming increasingly excited.

"You look beautiful, Aurelia."

"Thank you," you replied, your gaze fixed on the entrance door. You wonder why he isn't here yet.

"I hope you don't mind me mentioning that I've kept your father's letter for years. I have been eagerly awaiting the opportunity to open it for quite some time. Hoping desperately.”

"Is that so?"

"Yes, it seems that after your mother's passing, your relatives in Leptis Magna were interested in offering you their protection. However, your father, my uncle, felt it was best to take a different approach, sending you away I mean.”

You were unexpectedly touched by the mention of your mother and found yourself standing in front of the statue of your father. "He was hopeful that you would return and reclaim your birthright, and that your brothers would accept you. Given my familiarity with them and the Empress, I believe he gave me this assignment," he said, looking at the statue. "I am truly honored to have been assigned the task of protecting you. I hope you will allow me to be of service to you in the future."

“In the future?”

Gaius smiled. "I would be able to protect you more easily if you would allow me to marry you."

You were momentarily at a loss for words. As you considered how to decline his proposal without offending him, you observed a figure moving across the main courtyard towards the banquet. It appeared to be a man wearing a red shawl over his shoulders. It seemed likely to be him. However, when he soon disappeared between the columns, you couldn't help but frown. You felt a desire to pursue him.

"My lady, will you not answer?" Gaius was waiting hopefully.

"Sir Gaius, I am truly flattered, but I am afraid I am unlikely to accept your offer."

“May I ask why?" His voice betrayed no hint of curiosity. Again, it seemed as though he already had an idea of the answer. You were not interested in engaging in a similar manner.

"I'm obliged to tell you that my heart belongs to someone else. I'm sorry, sir.”

He seemed rather unsurprised, which might give rise to some suspicion.

"I'm just asking you to think a little more, take your time."

"No matter how much I think about it, I'm fairly certain my answer won't change."

Gaius seemed angry.

"I would like to return to my brothers now," you said, your voice calm and measured.

"As you wish, but I am a very patient man," he said with a smile and accompanied you towards the banquet hall.

You returned to the courtyard, your eyes seeking out his presence. You were relieved to see him right in front of Geta and Caracalla, and your spirits were lifted. Acacius looked quite splendid, wearing a long red shawl over his white tunic embroidered with gold and a large circular brooch pinned to his collar.

He appeared to be engaged in conversation with the emperors. He was holding a wine glass of a blue hue. When Geta and Caracalla turned their heads towards you, he looked back. When you met his eyes, you smiled. He observed you with great interest.

"My lady," he greeted you.

"General Acacius, welcome," you nodded.

The General's attention was drawn to Gaius as he approached from behind, narrowed his eyes. "Sister, you might be interested to hear what General Acacius said to us." Geta said to you in a slightly louder voice.

”What is it?" You looked at the general and realized he was smiling.

"He wants our permission to marry you, how kind of him!”

“He always is." Caracalla said, leaning back in his chair and grinning. His slaves sitting around him, watching curiously.

Your cheeks were flushed, and you looked at him to explain, but Gaius interjected.

'General Acacius had the opportunity to speak with you first, and it was with the same intention that I wished to speak to your Majesties.'

Geta raised his eyebrows and looked at Caracalla, who seemed to display a certain degree of animosity whenever he saw Gaius. Julia muttered something. Caracalla responded to his mother's words with a lighthearted laugh.

"I have already given you my answer, Sir Gaius," you said, looking at Geta. You were hoping he would reject him.

Acacius placed a hand to his chin and smiled in a way that seemed to indicate he was trying to suppress his laughter.

"As I told you I'm a patient man, my lady."

"Cut it off! I've had enough of your love intrigues!" Caracalla cried out in frustration. Macrinus was supposed to bring a gladiator. Where is he?"

"This is like a fight, brother. Don't you think? Two gentlemen against each other over a princess. Impressive.” Geta grinned.

The atmosphere was palpably tense as Acacius and Gaius exchanged unpleasant glances.

"I am here, your highness," Macrinus declared, appearing behind you. He was flanked by the gladiator slave you had seen earlier at his villa.

He gave Gaius a quick glance, then came to stand beside Geta.

‘My lady, please have a seat,’ the General said, gesturing towards the chair.

You smiled at him and did as he suggested, and he stood beside you. One of the slaves handed you some wine. You would have liked to talk to Marcus, but there were too many people around. Besides, he seemed to be watching Macrinus' gladiator with some unease. Geta and Caracalla, on the contrary, looked excited.

"So this is your gladiator?" Geta asked.

‘It is.’

‘Very well, let's see what he can do.’ Caracalla grinned.

At Macrinus' signal, the gladiator made his way to the center, and the people around him shifted slightly to give him space.

Both men saluted the emperors and promptly drew their swords and advanced towards the gladiator, but he was swift and agile, evading their attacks and seizing one of the men by the elbow. He then disarmed him and struck him forcefully in the face with the back of his elbow. As the man was momentarily disoriented, the gladiator swiftly retrieved the sword and advanced towards the other man. The sound of swords clashing echoed through the hall, and a sword fight commenced between the two. The other man approached from behind, but the gladiator was able to avoid both the sword blow and the man's attack. He then grabbed the man by the waist, threw him to the ground, and hit him repeatedly in the face.

Your entire body was visibly tense, your hands firmly grasping the fabric of your dress. Caracalla sat up in his chair and watched intently, so something like this could only excite him.

When the man collapsed, bloodied and unconscious, the gladiator managed to overpower the other man with his sword and quick footwork. Unfortunately, this left them both without swords. The man was more physically fit and appeared to be more determined than the gladiator. He advanced towards him and grabbed him by the belt and then by the waist and threw him backwards with some force to the ground, which resulted in one of the tables full of food being knocked over. You felt yourself becoming increasingly tense as the food and drinks were scattered around, and you saw the general moving in front of you. Guests were murmuring and applauding, but they continued to watch with interest.

The gladiator was covered in blood, but he was smiling. He quickly wiped the blood off his face with the back of his hand and waited for the man to make a move. When the man made a sudden advance, shouting, the gladiator responded by moving swiftly to strike at his leg. When the man faltered, the gladiator took the opportunity to strike him several times in the face with his chin, attempting to knock him to the ground. However, the man remained standing. At that moment, the gladiator took the sword from the ground and, in a swift and decisive move, drove it through the man's stomach. You were taken aback as blood spattered everywhere from the man's abdomen. Some of the people in the hall expressed their shock and dismay, while others were visibly excited. Geta and Caracalla expressed their admiration for his performance, and their slaves joined in the applause. The gladiator respectfully placed his sword on the ground and bowed his head in deference to them. The air was filled with a distinctive, pungent odor of blood. You felt a queasy sensation in your stomach, not due to the smell of blood, but because the blood was still flowing from the cut in the abdomen of the man lying lifeless on the ground. While the majority of the people present were expressing their approval with cheers and whistles, you and the general were the only ones who did not join in.

Geta stood up and gave a little clap. "That's fantastic!" "I love it!"

"I'm really looking forward to the new games," Caracalla said.

"Whenever you wish, Your Majesty," said Macrinus with a smile.

"Tomorrow!" Geta piped in excitedly.

"Your Majesty, shouldn't we wait until the festival is over?" Julia came over to him.

"No, it'd be too long. How about the last day of the Saturnalia?" "It would be a great way to end the festival," Caracalla said with a grin.

"My brother always has great ideas," he said, grinning at him.

You turned your head to look away as the guards pulled the bodies of the men out of the ground. Macrinus and Gaius went over to the gladiator and started talking to him about something. The general had noticed your nervousness.

"My lady, would you like to go for a walk?"

“Your face has gone white, sister.” Geta was looking at you with a grin. Caracalla laughed, “As a Medicus, shouldn't you be used to see blood?”

You stood up. “I need to get some air,” you said and looked at the general. “General Acacius, accompany me, please.”

He nodded and bowed to the emperors before following you.

There was still blood on the ground outside, so you decided to walk the other way. Soon the General came up to you.

“Are you alright?” there was concern in his voice.

“Yes,” you lied. “I'm not used to this and I don't think I want to get used to it.”

"Perhaps you would like to hold my hand?" he enquired, holding out his big hand towards you.

His eyes were warm, looking at them, you felt a sense of relief from the tension you had been feeling.

The only other people in the courtyard were the slaves, who were enjoying the day. The sounds of musical instruments soon filled the main courtyard, creating a festive atmosphere. When you held Acacius' hand, you felt your skin warm, touching his skin always gives you a reassuring warmth. "So you mentioned to my brothers that you wished to marry me," you said as you walked through the garden in the east courtyard.

"That is correct," he said with a smile. “But, I would like to hear your answer before they say anything."

As you strolled past the garden fountain, the soothing sound of the flowing water was a welcome respite from the slightly more vibrant melody playing in the courtyard.

You moved to stand in front of Acacius, holding both hands and looking into his eyes.

"I would be honored to be your wife, General."

The brown of his eyes shone brightly, and as he took a step towards you, you involuntarily stepped back, for some reason his devastating gaze had that effect on you. He couldn't help but seem to like it, he raised his hands and cupped your face in his palms. Your cheeks blessed by his touch.

"I should be the happiest man on this auspicious day," he said softly, brushing his lips against yours. Then he kissed you gently.

Your lips were pleased to meet his lips again, and a heat spread through your body under his lips. Marcus lowered his arms and took hold of you around the waist, pulling you closer to him. You brought your arms up and wrapped them around his neck, and the kiss became more passionate. You both yearned for each other's bodies, whispering your desire through your lips. Marcus forced to stop himself when his hand reached your shoulder, his lips stilling under yours and turning into a smile, his moustache tickling your upper lip. Breathless, opened your eyes to met his eyes, his hands still on your waist, yours still on his thick neck.

"Perhaps we should save the rest for our wedding night, my lady." He said with a hint of mischief in his voice. He was gently running his fingers through your hair with one hand. "Patience is my best friend yet my worst enemy." He kissed a strand of your hair in the palm of his hand. You slid your hands to his broad shoulders.

"My enemy for sure," you said, frowning. He laughed merrily, caressed your nose with his nose, and kissed your forehead. "You always manage to cheer me up, my lady." The music from the main courtyard was getting louder. Marcus took a step back and held out his arm.

"Maybe we should head back to the banquet?"

You gave a slight nod and took his arm. The music evoked memories of your time in Egypt.

Vicius, your uncle, was mindful of the fact that festival days were not the ideal time for you to be out and about, but he was ultimately swayed by your persistent requests. Even if you were unable to fully observe the other girls dancing through your large black cloak, you still enjoyed being there. As you observed the girls dancing in the main courtyard, a young slave approached you at a brisk pace.

"General Acacius, the Emperors want to see you."

Marcus nodded and turned to you. "I'll see what they want. Would you like to come?”

Shaking your head. ”I'm not quite ready to go in there yet.”

"As you please, my lady.” He agreed.

You watched him as he took his leave of you, releasing your hand and entering the banquet hall. You were curious as to whether this was a decision about marriage, but you felt it would be best to wait until Macrinus and his gladiator had left.

As you made your way towards the slave girls, who were dancing with evident joy, you came to realise how happy they were. Today was a day of freedom for them, as they were able to enjoy the same food and drinks. They were not expected to do much work today. Geta's slave, the one who dressed you, approached and respectfully inquired, "Lady Aurelia, would you like to join us?"

"Dancing? I've never danced before."

"It's really quite simple. Just allow yourself to become absorbed in the rhythm of the music.”

You noticed she was taking her time deciding whether to take your hand, so you smiled and grasped it. "Then go ahead and teach me."

She giggled, pulling you towards the others.

When you approached them the slaves stopped dancing and looked at you, a little unsure and curious.

"Why did you stop?" "Go on, I want to dance," you said with a encouraging smile.

They looked at each other, smiled back, and started dancing again. Another girl took your other hand, and you all formed a circle. Then they stood facing each other and guided you as you passed through each other. The girl who was Geta's slave was right—it was easy to dance when you let yourself go to the rhythm of the music. It felt great to experience something you'd wanted for so long but hadn't had the chance.

"You're doing great, my lady." The girl replied with a smile.

"It's so much fun," you said with a smile.

When you switched places with the girl, dancing again, you suddenly noticed that people were gathering around you.

"It looks like our sister is enjoying herself," Geta said, coming up behind you. You stopped and looked at him with embarrassment. Gaius and the others were standing next to him, smiling and observing you. But you found yourself glancing at the general standing behind them. He was smiling, but it seemed like he was lost in thought. The joy he had when he was with you was gone. Something bad is definitely going on, you thought.

"Our ideas of fun and yours are quite different," Caracalla muttered.

What was the fun in watching people cutting each other?

"Yes, I think it is," you replied.

"Then I'm afraid you're not going to like what I'm about to say," Geta said, coming up to you.

Your eyebrows arched, seeking clarification on his meaning.

"As a family, we have been pondering the matter of two marriage proposals and have reached a decision." He gazed at Caracalla.

Caracalla laughed, which was a pretty clear sign that whatever he had to say wasn't going to be something you would like.

"Two candidates, two rivals, one fight and the winner gets the girl. How does that sound?”

"It's a real battle.” Geta grinned.

You swallowed hard, your ears were betraying you. You couldn't make sense of what you were hearing.

“What is the meaning of this?"

Geta placed his hand gently on your shoulder. "Of course, our cousin Gaius is not a warrior. He is, after all, a politician, so it seems that Macrinus' gladiator will stand for him. General Acacius is a formidable opponent, as you may know.”

You felt your whole body go numb in shock.

"That man's rage is more than enough to rival the General," Caracalla snapped.

"We'll see." Geta replied.

"There's got to be another way," you said, your voice trembling a little.

"The decision has been made. What are you worried about?" I'm sure it'll be a great game.

"Please, brother," you said, looking at Geta with pleading eyes, but he seemed determined. He made you walk a little away from them, with Caracalla accompanying you.

“Come now, sister, don't you trust the General's great fighting skills?”

The general's expression was solemn when you looked up at him from afar.

"If you choose Gaius, you might find yourself widowed pretty quickly. I'll take him out before he gets to Leptis Magna," Caracalla whispered, cruel smile appeared on his face.

Geta snickered. “Of course she won't choose that cunt,” he said, looking at you.

"If you are certain of my choice, why do you play this game? Does my decision not matter at all?"

Before Geta could reply, Caracalla spoke up. "You have accepted us as your family. Decisions like this are made between family. You should show some respect to us.”

"Besides, they should be worthy of you. You're not just any person. You're a Roman princess. Let them fight for you." Geta chuckled.

This made you even angrier. You wanted to slap them both. Everything was a game to them. But you hated that you had to risk losing Marcus because of their childish but dangerous games. You felt your chest hurt.

The festival was over for you, there was no more joy, no more fun. For the rest of the night all the laughter and music did nothing but torture you. Marcus was also silent and his face was expressionless as he looked at you from a distance.

The city was enjoying a well-deserved rest on the first night of the festival. It seemed that everyone and everything had decided to sleep, except you. Your mind was preoccupied with a particular thought. Marcus. The thought of losing him for such a silly pastime felt so wrong. From your position on the bed, you gazed upwards at the moonlight that was gently filtering through the long window of the spacious room. The gold-embroidered part of the curtain caught your eye when it came into contact with the reflected light, as it shone gently in the moonlight. You decided to get out of bed, as you felt you couldn't sleep anyway. You thought it might be a good idea to get some fresh air. You exited the room and proceeded towards the balcony within. The view from the balcony at night was quite amazing. The Circus Maximus, the hippodrome where horse races were held during the day, appeared to be resting peacefully. The Tiber River, which flows into the sea between Palatine Hill and Aventine Hill, appeared to shine brightly in the night darkness, as though bathed in moonlight. Just beyond the river was a dirt road, the very same road you had traveled many times in a carriage towards the General's villa.

You prayed to Jupiter, hoping that he might consider allowing you to live there as his wife when he won this fight and married you. Then your gaze shifted to the silhouette of the Colosseum, the imposing structure that had previously inspired a certain ambivalence in you. Now, it seemed to stand before you as an adversary. All the battles and games that were fought in it were not enough to take the warriors who died in all the battles and games. It also seemed to want to take away the most valuable person in your life.

You were startled as you heard footsteps approaching behind you.

"I wonder what could have disturbed our princess's sleep?”

Turning your head, you noticed Julia standing beside you, clad only in her long tunic, a style of dress you were not previously accustomed to seeing her in.

Without making eye contact, she approached and placed her arms on the balustrade. You felt a certain degree of nervousness each time you saw her, and the fact that you were alone with her at this late hour only served to heighten your unease. Her long black hair was waving with the light wind of the night. She was a beautiful woman, though her eyes and lips showed a few wrinkles. Cruel beauty.

"You must be thinking about him," she murmured before you could answer.

It was pretty clear to her, even without you telling her. She was a smart woman, so you were sure she realized it the first time she saw you and the General.

"Are they taking revenge on him?" you asked.

“Because he hid you in his villa? Perhaps, but for my sons, a game is a game. Now he's part of it. Things would have turned out differently had you chosen Gaius. But the General decided his own fate from the moment he asked their permission to marry you.”

You didn't answer, despite all the feelings growing within you.

"Tiberis (Tiber River),' she murmured. You don't know how happy I was when I found out you had drowned in that river. All my worries were gone."

You remained unresponsive, a shiver ran down your spine, but it was not from the sudden wind.

“But one day you appeared, with your golden hair, the same cheeks that my husband couldn't get enough of kissing, and those innocent hazel eyes, just like the way you looked at me when you were a child, like a stupid, poor kitten. I don't know how I didn't notice the first time I saw you, I must have been so sure you were dead. I must be getting old, I suppose,” she said with a laugh.

It was as if she was having a friendly chat, which made you more nervous. As your eyes roamed the dark silhouette of the Colosseum, you realised that your real enemy was right next to you.

“Are you sure you won't regret rejecting Gaius and not going to Leptis Magna with him?” She looked at you with a hint of mockery in her eyes, but her voice was almost pleading. 'If you're smart, that's what you should do.’

You closed your eyes tightly, took a deep breath and suppressed all the curses that rushed to your tongue. ‘You wish the General to lose? I thought you trusted him?’

‘There are many soldiers in the Legates with his potential, he's not irreplaceable.’

She approached you as you were trying to control your anger. "You are the one who made him a target. You are responsible for what has happened to him and what will happen to him. Remember that, Aurelia." You could hear the hint of a threat in her voice as she said your name.

Tears rolled down your cheeks as she walked back the way she came. You were already blaming yourself. Hearing the same words from her mouth, as if from your own conscience, increased your pain even more.

Marcus... You didn't even want to consider what you'd do if something happened to him. You thought about your uncle and how he handled it when his wife passed away. He was really dedicated to his work. He felt that his only purpose in life was to try to save more people. But you weren't like him. You were sure your body couldn't handle that kind of pain. You didn't feel as strong as he did. You shook your head and tried to push these thoughts out of your mind.

You needed to be strong for him. But how could you possibly do that? How were you going to watch him out there fighting for his life when the very thought of it was enough to make your heart ache? You'd never seen him fight before, but you'd heard so much about him that you had some hope. Still, your worries held your hopes captive and not releasing them. You let your thoughts torture you for a while longer, accompanied by the sound of crickets echoing in the silence of the night, and finally you walked to your room to try to sleep.

Temple of Mars…

The day of the fight.

The temple was relatively quiet when you arrived with Decima in the early hours of the morning. You had come here to sacrifice five pigs to Mars, the god of war. You bowed down in front of the great statue of Mars, which stood in all its majesty in the corner between the protruding tall columns inside, and joined your hands in prayer.

"My Lord, Mars, I beg you to bestow upon me the life of your son Marcus, the man I love, and grant him a victorious outcome today. Juno, the goddess of marriage, I implore you to remove all obstacles that stand in the way of me marrying the man I love. Venus, the goddess of love, I ask for your strength to fight for my love and to guide me to make it stronger. Fortuna, I ask that your fortune favour us today. Jupiter, the god of gods, I beseech you, my lord, to sharpen his sword, to give strength and power to his hands and arms, and to grant him victory. And bring him back to me safe and sound.”

You opened your eyes and saw your tears dripping on your hands, which you'd clasped together on your chest. Decima touched your shoulder and wiped your tears with her thumb.

'The gods will help him, don't you worry anymore.'

You nodded, feeling certain your prayer would be answered, now all that remained was to wait, and time was your worst enemy.

The last person you wanted to see was coming up the steps of the temple. Gaius noticed you and approached you, his smug smile infuriating you.

'My lady, I believe you've come to pray.'

'That's right, that's why I'm here, but I wonder if I might ask why you are here? I thought you weren't going to fight for yourself?" you asked sarcastically.

"I'm the one who has the advantage with the power of thought. Physical strength is of no consequence against it."

"Then perhaps you've come to the wrong temple. You should go to the temple of Mercury."

"My lady, I am in the right place because I have come here to ask Mars to grant General Acacius absolute defeat.”

You clenched your hands into fists, your whole body filled with rage.

‘Once he's out of the way, there'll be no more obstacles between us. It'll be easy to get rid of Caracalla and Geta. Their names will be forgotten. Think of the power you and I will have if we marry.’

After a long period of frustration, you finally lost your temper and slapped him in anger. Gaius wasn't upset. In fact, he seemed amused as he touched the spot where you had slapped him. The imperial guard who had been protecting you interposed himself between the two of you.

‘I'll never marry you, sir, don't even dream of it.’

‘It was your father's wish, I was with him when he wrote the letter-’ This time his eyes were sharp as he looked at you.

‘I'm not my father!’ The people praying on the steps of the temple turned to you when they realised your loud voice.

‘And he's not here, I'm Aurelia, and I decide my own life. Don't you ever threaten me again. Or my brothers. Especially the man I love.’

The imperial guard stepped forward nervously noticing people approaching you.

‘Princess Aurelia!’

You turned your head when someone called out your name. They quickly gathered around you, looking at you with sincerity and admiration. Gaius seemed uncomfortable with them.

One woman approached you and said, "My lady, we've heard that the General Acacius will fight for you, so we pray for his safety and survival.”

They had come here with the same intention as you, which made you very happy.

'The General has saved this city many times, we're grateful to him,' someone said.

'We're still breathing thanks to him!' another shouted. You looked at Gaius with a smile, a smile he knew the meaning of ‘Suck it’.

‘I think you’re done here, Sir Gaius.’

The crowd regarded him with a certain degree of displeasure, and some of them advanced towards him. Gaius retreated, nearly losing his footing on the stairs in the process. As he made his way out of the area, the crowd turned their attention to you.

“Thanks to your prayers, General Acacius will hopefully achieve a victory today at the Colosseum.”

The crowd responded with joyous shouts. They were now shouting his name. As you smiled at them and descended the stairs, you noticed a familiar face ahead. Octavius was standing by his horse and, upon recognising you, approached you with haste.

‘My lady, you summoned me.

You asked for him before you came to the temple because you wanted to speak to him about something.

'Yes, thank you for coming by.'

'Of course, my lady,' he bowed his head respectfully.

You gave him a smile. 'It seems you were right all along.'

He looked at you, surprised. 'I beg your pardon, my lady?'

“You always called me a lady, and you were right. I was. You were always kind to me, Octavius. Even when you knew I was a slave, you were always respectful, and I'm grateful to you for that.”

“The pleasure's mine, my lady. But may I ask why you wanted to see me?’

'As a good friend of the general, I wanted to ask you to take me to him before the fight.’

Octavius’ expression changed. 'My lady, with all due respect, this is no place for women.’

You looked at him with absolute determination. 'Otherwise I wouldn't have asked you to accompany me, would I?'

The Colosseum…

Hours before the battle…

The Colosseum had lots of rooms and underground passages. This was where animals and gladiators were kept, waiting to meet their fate in the arena above. It wasn't a straightforward place to get into, especially not for a woman.

Octavius was pretty nervous about letting you into this underground tunnel. If you'd asked the royal guards to do it, it'd probably have got back to Geta or Caracalla, who'd have wanted to stop or prevent you. But you had to see him before he steps into the arena.

However, your plan was about to be thwarted. The guards at the entrance to the large iron gate were quite big and stopped you.

'There's no room for women here, so you'd better go back.'

Even if you wore a cloak, your clothes and hair showed your physical features. So you decided to remove it.

"I'm Princess Aurelia. Let me through, please. I'd like to speak with General Acacius."

The guards looked at each other, unsure of what to do. Did they think you were lying?

'Why would a princess come with only one soldier?' one of the guards asked.

'I'm the general's second-in-command, Octavius. Let us through, now.' Octavius ordered.

'My lady!''

You heard a familiar voice and looked in that direction. It was Macrinus.

His voice came from inside, and soon he appeared at the door.

'How dare you keep the Princess waiting at the gate? Let her through, now!'

The men immediately bowed their heads, apologised and opened the gate.

'My lady, I think you're here to see the General?' His smile made you feel uneasy, as it always did.

Octavius picked up a torch and followed you at a safe distance, each sound echoing off the narrow walls as he travelled through the stone tunnels.

"I understand your wish to see him for the last time.”

You stopped suddenly, your footsteps echoed through the cave-like walls.

"Sir Macrinus, if I may continue with Sir Octavius for the rest of the way."

Macrinus smiled and said, 'As you wish, my lady. I'm done here anyway. I'll see you upstairs in the stands.' He walked towards the door. You continued on your way, not letting his confident demeanour unnerve you.

'Oh, by the way, don't be scared when you see the tiger ahead, he can smell fear,' he said before walking out the door.

You couldn't believe your ears. Did he mean it metaphorically? You looked at Octavius, who didn't look surprised.

‘It's in a cage, don't worry,’ he explained.

‘Tiger, a real tiger?’ You raised your eyebrow.

‘Yes. There are many animals here, stay close to me, my lady.’

A little later, you came to a roundabout where another iron gate was waiting for you. This time, you could hear lots of voices coming from the corridors. You could hear lots of men, swords being sharpen, doors opening and closing, and a roar. When you saw the corridor where the animals were kept, you had a bit of a shock. The tiger was there, a big one, much bigger than you'd imagined when you'd heard its name. And it was just as scary. You stood there, frozen in fear, locked in its green eyes, as if it was trying to find where the fear was hiding inside you. It was an amazingly beautiful and an extremely dangerous predator. A moment later, it let out a roar as if it had found the fear. Octavius grabbed you by the shoulders as you jumped back, trembling with fear.

'Are you alright, my lady?' Let's head back if you're not feeling well.

You couldn't help but laugh hysterically. 'It's beautiful.’ you swallowed hard.

Octavius confused.

You tried to pull yourself together quickly and concentrate on the reason you had come here, but the tiger was so beautiful that you couldn't take your eyes off him. Before long, one of the guards prodded the tiger's hind leg with a spear. The animal let out a roar in pain but then collapsed and rested its huge head on its front legs.

The guard bowed to you and said, 'It's a dangerous animal, my lady. You shouldn't get too close.'

You nodded at him, but it was hard to believe that such a beautiful and dangerous animal could be so close. You could stare at it for hours.

'My lady, this way,' Octavius said, pointing the other corridor. There were gladiators and other warriors in this corridor. All waiting to fight resting in dungeons, conditions were unfavourable. As you passed through them, you bowed your head, feeling their curious eyes on you.

You felt regret taking off your cloak, because you were wearing a elegant dress that left your arms and neck exposed, and revealing that you belonged to the imperial family. You had Geta to thank for that, after all, lately he loved to interfere with your attire.

“A princess?”

“Look at this beauty.”

“I would gladly die for you, my beautiful lady.”

A few masculine whistles and laughs, murmurs, you could feel your cheeks turning red, your mouth got dry. Hearing a few dirty comments, Octavius kicked the iron bars of the cell where they were being held.

“Shut the hell up!”

You fellt relief to move from this corridor to another, quieter one, where you saw a familiar face. It was Cato, the General's squire.

"My lady, sir." He greeted you.

Instead of iron bars, there was an iron door and an armoury. It was filled with swords, axes, bows and arrows, shields and many other implements of war.

"Is the General inside?" Octavius asked.

"Yes, I just helped him put on his armour," he said and knocked on the door.

You were nervous and excited, and when the door opened, Octavius nodded then looked at you.

You walked through the door with quick steps, met his eyes. The eyes you had come all this way for.

His eyes showed surprise and then anger.

“I'll leave you two alone.” Octavius closed the door and left to avoid her harsh gaze.

“What are you doing here,” he came toward you, so attractive even in his anger.

“I needed to see you, before...” you swallowed, unable to finish the sentence.

“It's not appropriate for you to be here, how could you do that?”

The general seemed to be wearing his leather armbands.

“Let me,” you murmured and approached him.

He held out his arm for you and waited, all the while keeping his eyes on you.

Once you finished, put your hands on his broad shoulders. Under your hands you felt the material of the leather armor he had just put on. It was the same armor he wore when you first met, with gold detailing on the edges and a medusa on his chest. His expression softened at your touch.

"You always act without thinking," he said with a hint of disapproval.

"I've heard that before," you replied with a smile.

He placed his hands on your waist and pulled you closer to him, his eyes tracing the outline of your lips. You could feel his gaze on them.

"You are my only weakness, your presence is the only thing that distracts me."

"Perhaps it would be best if I waited here for you? I don't want to watch anyway.”

"No," he said, shaking his head. "I'd like you to sit there and watch me." He cupped your face between his hands, and you could feel your heart beating faster. "Because, my beautiful princess,, it's only you who gives me strength."

Marcus pressed his lips to yours and kissed you gently.

"I prayed in the temple for you to win," you whispered. "Marcus, you have to win. I can't bear to see anything happen to you."

"I will win, my lady. For you, for us." He kissed your forehead and embraced you.

You prayed the gods for the last time as you resting your head on his chest, your body in his arms. Suddenly the sound of drums startled you. Turned your head in the direction of the sound, accompanied by the sound of the crowd and whistles. Marcus pressed his lips to the top of your head and pulled himself back.

“It's time, you'd better go now.”

You nodded. “I love you, Marcus.” your voice was shaking.

One of his heart-melting smiles appeared on his face.

“I love you more, my beautiful Aurelia.”

Ima Cavea… (tribune that reserved for the Emperor and senates)

“Sister, where were you? You were almost late.” Geta scolded you. You were pleased that Julia was sitting next to Caracalla, while you sat in one of the gold-embroidered seats belonging to the royal family next to Geta. The farther away from her the better it was for you. However, Gaius was sitting right next to you and smiling at you in a way that made you feel uneasy. You turned your head away from him and looked at Geta.

“What happened to your face?”

He rolled his eyes. “War makeup, if you hadn't gone to the temple earlier I would have given you this makeup too, tough luck sister.” he said pursing his lips.

“Good thing I preferred to go to the temple then,” you muttered.

He laughed. Caracalla whispered something in his ear. Geta leaned toward you with a mischievous expression. “Would you like to give the opening speech?”

You gave him a stink-eye. He grinned with all his teeth at your expression.

“Okay, I'll do it.”

He stood up and took a step forward, raising his arms in salute as the announcer announced his name to the crowd.

“People of Rome! We are gathered today for an epic closing to the last day of the festival. The day's champions of the auspicious ceremony, incredibly talented gladiators, will fight and stand for our beloved cousin Gaius Septimius Severus Aper!”

“He forgot to mention ‘consul ordinarius’ title of mine.” Gaius said, offended.

“No one cares,” you snapped.

Caracalla laughed hard, Geta joined him in, both looking at you like ‘good one’. You ignored them, not in the mood for jokes.

With the sound of drums and trumpets, the iron gates opened with roar and four gladiators entered the arena. You weren't an expert in fighting and you didn't have a lot of experience as a spectator, but you had a pretty good idea of what to expect. But why were there four gladiators? Caracalla stood up and came to Geta, applauding with excitement and joy. The gladiators stood in position in front of your tribune with their shields and spears and gave the salute.

“Ave Imperatores, morituri te salutant!” Hail Emperors, those who are about to die salute you!”

“In fact, you should salute both us and our sister today,” he beckoned you to him. You opened your eyes wide, not expecting surely. Julia let out a hissing sound, and the senators murmured behind you. As you stood up, the crowd started to cheer louder. You took Geta's hand, tentatively at first.

“Princess Aurelia!” Crowded shouted.

You whispered to Geta as the crowd chanted your name.

“Wasn't there supposed to be a one-on-one fight?”

“That would be boring, wouldn't it, my dear?”

"Clearly you haven't had the opportunity to observe the General in combat before, Caracalla said, leaning towards you behind Geta. “Hurry brother, call him to show up, lets get them started at once,” he whined to him, clapping his hands.

Geta nodded, “And the man who will fight against them is known and respected by all of you, The Glorius General Marcus Acacius, commander of the southern armies, General of the Six Legions and protector of Rooome!”

Geta's loud cry was pretty deafening.

The soldiers who opened the other door for their General greeted him and wished him good fortune. The crowd roared as Marcus, sword in hand shining under the sunlight, the sands of the arena turning to dust beneath his feet as he stepped in front of the gladiators. You experienced a range of emotions simultaneously, including excitement, tension, fear unease.

Marcus turned towards you, put his sword on his shoulder, nodded.

“Ave Imperatores, ave Filia Regis, morituri te salutant!” Hail Emperors, hail Princess, who are about to die salute you!”

Even though the word ‘about to die’ hurts, you smiled at him, and he bowed his head in response.

“Begiiiin!” Geta shouted.

“Gods bear witneeeeess!” Caracalla joined him.

The crowd went wild with excitement, and the beat of the drums grew louder. Since the gladiators were discussing strategy and walking away from him Marcus turned to face the other way, looks very calm. It didn't seem fair that they had spears, swords at their waists and shields in their hands, but Marcus had only a sword. Had he specifically chosen it himself? It didn't make sense, and you were almost angry with Marcus for it. But you were about to be wrong.

As one of the gladiators ran towards Marcus, he took a defensive stance, kicked the sand off the ground with the tip of his toe and darted towards him. In a swift and decisive move, he dodged his attack by spinning as if he was dancing and struck him hard with his sword from behind. Marcus quickly picked up the shield that had fallen from his hand and turned to the others, your eyes fixed on the sand where blood from the cut spread across the floor of the arena. You stared with your jaw dropped.

Geta and Caracalla looked at each other with laughter. They cursed and commented, their eyes fixed on the action. You observed Gaius, seated next to you, appearing somewhat disgruntled, which prompted a smile to emerge on your face. Yet you tensed again as the three remaining gladiators circling around Marcus. He glanced at each of them, ready for any attack. One of them roared and charged at him, pointing the tip of his spear at him, the long spear jabbed, but Marcus grabbed the tip of his shield, shoved it aside and charged at the gladiator, his great sword flashing. The gladiator swung his spear back, then thrust again. The metal screamed as the tip of the spear slipped from Marcus' shield, cutting the surface and leaving a long, shiny scratch. Another gladiator lunged with his spear, but Marcus turned quickly, allowing it to pierce the shield, but the gladiator could not get it back out and Marcus took advantage of it and swung his sword at him, cutting his exposed leg off. The man let out a cry of pain as blood began to flow from his wound, spreading across the sandy ground. Marcus made one last move and rushed after the other, cutting his neck and the gladiator's lifeless body sprawled on the sandy ground. Other gladiator grunted furiously. He made a ponderous charge to hack at the Marcus's head. He avoided him easily. The crowd roared, whistling and Geta gave a hysterical laugh and clapped. You were uncertain as to how much more nervous you could become. You felt your heart beating in your throat. The two remaining gladiators exchanged glances and signalled to one another. Marcus observed them with his keen gaze, considering the most strategic approach to the upcoming confrontation, taking the movement of their feet into account. One of them made a quick lunge for his stomach, but Marcus was thrown back and it was ineffective. Marcus cut him, but not where he wanted, he missed.

Then, dodging at the last moment as the gladiator lunged for his right breast, he lunged for the tip of the spear. Marcus was close enough to strike suddenly, his sword gleaming in a blur of steel. The crowd screamed as well. As the tip of the spear was useless, the Gladiator threw it away and drew his sword, but Marcus was much faster, grasping quickly the spear that the other gladiator he had just cut down had left on the ground and thrusting it deep into his groin. The gladiator groaned in pain and staggered backwards, struggling to stand and finally collapsing to his knees. The last remaining gladiator, the banquet-show gladiator, Macrinus' and Geta's favourite, lunged angrily at Marcus. Geta stood up excitedly, Caracalla leaned forward to see better, and you put your hands together and began to pray. He was the gladiator you feared the most.

Metal met metal with an ear-splitting clang, sending the Marcus reeling. Gladiator followed, bellowing. They didn't use words anymore, just animalistic roaring.The gladiator was the first to move, throwing his spear at Marcus as he ran, missing. This time he drew his sword and lunged at him with a roar, throwing his shield at him as well, Marcus paused in the blink of an eye as the pain of the struck shield caused his elbow. But the sword was making several thrusts at him, and Marcus's retreat turned into a flight backwards, only inches in front of the great sword that cut through his chest, arms and wrist. You jumped to your feet, Marcus' cuts weren't very deep, but they were enough to make you cried out.

Marcus heard you, but he had to pretend he didn't. He was determined to concentrate and get it over with. He ignored the pain of his cuts and looked at the gladiator, who was smiling triumphantly at him.

Rejoice now while you can, Marcus thought.

He memorised the gladiator's footwork and swiftly planned his attack. The gladiator made the first move, his shiny sword grazing the surface of Marcus' shield with a deafening sound. Marcus seized the opportunity and brought his sword down on the gladiator's head. But it was a ruse. As the gladiator raised his sword to retaliate, Marcus slashed his muscular thigh and kicked him to the ground. The gladiator was dazed by the fall, and Marcus stepped on his hand with his foot, taking the sword from him and hurling it across the arena.The crowd cheered, and Geta gave a standing ovation and shouted with joy.

'What a battle!'

'It's over too soon,' Caracalla grumbled. You were starting to relax a little, but the blood dripping from Marcus's shoulder wasn't helping. When he glanced back at you, you smiled and hoped he saw it.

The crowd suddenly started shouting in unison.

‘KIll! KIll! KIll!’

Marcus looked at Geta. With his arm outstretched, everyone eagerly awaits his decision. But you could already see it in his honey-coloured eyes. Geta turned his thumb down.

The crowd went wild again, cheering and screaming. Marcus looked down at the gladiator, who was barely breathing, lying on the ground. He raised his sword and the man closed his eyes. Marcus may have fought like a beast, but he was no bloodthirsty villain. He brought the sword down swiftly and it stabbed through the sand right next to the gladiator's head. The crowd fell silent. Murmurs replaced the shouts. Geta frowned. Caracalla leaned down from the balustrade in frustration.

‘What the hell is he doing?’

‘Kill him!’ Geta shouted.

You were so moved by Marcus's behavior that your eyes filled with tears.

Soon the crowd was shouting the chant once used for the great General Maximus.

‘Marcus the merciful!’

Marcus smiled at them and made a gesture of respect, honouring his former commander.

'That's just like him,' Geta commented.

Caracalla made a face. You were happy and proud of him, you couldn't be more in love with him.

Marcus walked towards to you while the crowd chanting his name and his new nickname.

'My Emperors, I fought for you and I won, and I believe I have a right to claim what is rightfully mine.' His eyes shifted to you. It was hard not to throw yourself from where you stood into his strong arms.

Geta laughed, applauding him.

"Naturally, our champion will receive what he deserves." He gazed at you and said, "Let us begin preparations for the wedding of General Acacius and our sister Princess Aurelia at once."

You felt a slight blush come over your cheeks as the crowd expressed their enthusiasm by chanting and cheering your names. Caracalla sat back in his throne and appeared to be somewhat disgruntled. Gaius had already departed. Then the iron gates of the arena opened, and the General was surrounded by his soldiers, who embraced him joyfully, including Octavius. Geta was observing you as you smiled at Marcus with joy, and he was surprised to realise that for the first time in his life he was experiencing a sense of happiness for someone else.

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101maverick · 6 months ago

Note

Hi! Saw your newest post, so thought I might as well try to help with your writers block :)

How about headcanons of the bat boys dating a broke reader? Alternatively, batboys x bimbo!reader?

Hope this helps you get out of your slump, enjoy the rest of your day and take your time if you ain't up for it :]

A/n: Tysm for the request! Hope you enjoy :)

Dick Grayson

Being resident in Bludhaven, he's financially independent and certainly not rich. He refuses to depend on Bruce.

This means he hasn't got any trust fund money to give you, but he'd definitely help you out any way he can

He'd buy you practical gifts as well as normal ones whenever he's got the chance, and if you're living together the way you divide the living costs would definitely be proportional to your spending power

Dick isn't rich but he's not broke either: the average annual salary for cops in the us is roughly $66.000, but he owns the two-bedroom apartment you live in so the only thing you guys need to pay is taxes and bills, no rent to worry about. You're also not at home for most of the day, seeing as he works as a cop and you have your own job that takes up a good chunk of your day, so the electricity bill isn't very high.

I personally think Reader would not enjoy not having to pay for anything seeing as the money comes out of Dick's own pocket, so she'd at the very least insist on paying for groceries and helping out more in the house with laundry, dishes, cleaning et cetera, to even out the responsibilities as much as possible

He'd support you as much as possible if you're getting a degree, he'd be like your own personal cheerleader, and after you get it he'd organise this huge surprise graduation party for you and then help you get a job in the field of your degree

like if you became a lawyer he'd hook you up with some judges/attorneys he knows aren't corrupt and get you a job in their law firm (paid intern of course, after having worked so hard you want to make it yourself in the world)

I think you two would have tons of fun at the thrift! You wouldn't feel bad about him insisting to spend his money, and you would have the best time just perusing the racks and laughing at all the insane stuff you find plus trying on some genuinely nice clothes

One thing he splurges on though is making sure you have a state-of-the-art home gym, in fact that is why he buys your building's basement and equips it with every work-out machine under the sun plus a trapeze and equipment to practice a ton of other dynamic sports of the sort

————————————

Jason Todd

He's a crime lord so it's safe to say this dude is filthy rich

He obviously doesn't show it though and apart from having a lot of it as an emergency fund for when he needs to defend himself in gang wars I believe he anonymously donates the rest to charities

I go with the canon of Jason being catholic so I believe he gives to the Church, but it could obviously be something else like one of the many Wayne foundations (cause as much as he holds a grudge against his father he knows he's obviously not corrupt and actually helps people)

apart from this he definitely still has a lot of money

He'd refuse to see you struggle financially

He's been through that, he knows how awful it is and does not hear no for an answer when he goes to hand you insane amounts of cash

If you live together then he makes sure to get a nice apartment in the respectable parts of town, blending in with the rest of the neighbourhood to make sure the location is safe and as untraceable as possible

He handles everything and refuses to even let you pay for groceries, insisting that you concentrate on your studies and not worry about having to sustain yourself

To him you guys being a team means that you hold each other up any way you can, and you already support him immensely just by being by his side and loving him, so to him this is just doing his part and supporting you (on top of loving you like crazy of course)

One thing he'd do is make sure your house has enough space to host an insane amount of books though

On this topic I think he'd absolutely spoil you with book hauls, just taking you to every book store you can find and buying piles and piles of books

I'm talking those beautiful gold-leaf covered editions of centuries-old classics, and it doesn't matter if you already have the stories per-se in your library cause it's the edition that matters in this case, ya know?

Like sometimes you want to feel regal and distinguished reading the gold-lined hardcover Commedia, sometimes you want to feel quirky with your penguin edition Jane Eyre, other times you just want to embrace your inner sewer rat and read Macbeth from the shitty mass-produced paperbacks and Jason acknowledges and embraces it

————————————

Tim Drake

Tim, like Jason, is also filthy rich, in virtue of being the owner of Drake Industries and the representative C.E.O. for Bruce at Wayne Enterprises

You'd both live in his Nest, and given the horrendous amount of electricity it consumes it's all already paid for by his company so no need to worry about that

He would only accept "payment" for everything he does for you in the form of you making sure he goes to sleep at decent amounts of time when he's elbow-deep in a case (and tons of love, obviously)

Like Jason, he'd just hands you wads of cash

EXCEPT! He does it for the most mundane stuff. Timothy Jackson Drake is a nepo baby, no way around that. Sure, while he spent his time stalking Batman and Robin through the rougher parts of Gotham he learnt street-safety 101, but he always carried anything he needed for those nightly strolls in his backpack, and he never really learned the real value of money. "$2.70 for a small bottle of water? Sounds reasonable!" is his thought process to this day.

You two would often have these moments of 'culture shock', with Tim slowly discovering how much things should cost every time you two go out to run errands together and you discovering about the insane things the rich buy and do just because Tim decided to recount some childhood stories/told you about some stuff socialites did ad a gala

Since I think Tim's love language is quality time I think he'd take you on these absurd trips whenever possible, that to you are to absurd places but to him it's a very normal trip because "my parents always went there twice a year? It's an extremely normal vacation spot?" Meanwhile it's the Maldives or a private island in Greece or something

This being Tim you also HAVE to have a state-of-the-art phone, with tons of features you will never need to use since you're a civilian but it makes him more at ease, knowing that if the need arises you have the ability to disarm a bomb with the click of a button on your display

————————————

Damian Wayne-Al Ghul

Oh he'd absolutely refuse to have you living anywhere but a castle

It'd take convincing for him to have you living in anything less than a penthouse in the diamond district

He's not against the idea of you working, but he doesn't think that it's necessary for you to slave away at a minimum-wage job while you could be spending all your time in luxury while studying for your degree

After you get your degree he'd help you find a job at one of the most important places for your specialisation, pulling the needed strings just to make sure your resume isn't overlooked (nothing more, he's of the idea that his partner should be strong, plus he believes you to be extremely capable and so thinks that pulling strings to get you the job would be a disservice and an offence to you)

Absolutely spoils you with gifts, and by that I mean: clothes, jewellery, if you like cars he'll buy you a carpark, anything you look at for more than two seconds he'll buy

Damian's way of showing love is through gestures, so you rejecting his gifts would hurt him and he'd take it to mean that you are rejecting him/are unsatisfied with him

Like with Tim, you both would have "Culture shocks" over stuff like the worth of money, lifestyle and stuff like that

Because Damian is basically a royal (or at the very least was raised like one, I don't know what's happened to the LoA in current canon) I think he'd lowkey try to get you an armed guard for when you need to go out as a sign of love lol

"Damian I've been feeling watched while going out as of late" "Don't worry Beloved, that's just the armed guard" "Oh ok-I'm sorry what?!"

Things like anniversaries, birthdays and big events are celebrated in the most lavish settings but in a private way still, like he'll absolutely spoil you and take you to visit this super famous castle for your birthday, matter of fact he'll rent it out for the occasion

For real he does this because when you're alone he can be himself and he loves doing that when you're both experiencing something that makes you happy-- But! Those are head canons for another time hehe >:)

————————————

Bruce Wayne

I believe he's the only one in the bat family who knows the worth of money while having being rich his entire life (ya know, having to use all the disguises he does and going undercover as a normal person a lot of the time)

He definitely offers you a job at Wayne Enterprises, and if you accept he agrees to keeping your relationship under wraps so that no one will start saying that you 'sleep with him for the job'

On that topic if the relationship ever goes public and people start saying that, he will fire them without hesitation

And if it's business partners joking with him about it, he won't stop dealing with them for the sole purpose of covertly crippling their reputation so badly they'll have no choice but to sell their companies to him

You obviously live with him at the Manor, and he insists that everything be paid for by himself only (ya know, richest man in New Jersey and probably the world soooo....)

Bruce is really bad with his emotions, he tends to really repress them whenever he deems them something he's not 'worthy' of feeling or whenever he perceives he has failed at something or failed someone, so the mere fact he confessed his feelings towards you and that he doesn't shun your love is a huge step forward for him. This doesn't mean that he's good at expressing his emotions when he doesn't repress them though, especially not with words.

This is why his main love languages are gift-giving and acts of service, because he shows his love through actions.

Gift-giving as an important love language for him happens because he's very busy both during the day and the night, so sometimes your schedules just don't align or he even has to go off-world with the Justice League and stuff, so he 'makes up' those missed acts of service with lavish gifts

Usually this could be seen as 'throwing money at the problem and hoping it fixes itself' but the thing is that Bruce's gifts are pretty much always spontaneous. He's out and about in his public persona or patrolling as batman, and he sees a storefront with something that reminds him of you or that he thinks you would like. The next logical step is obviously buying it for you as soon as possible and getting it to the manor. Because Bruce is really bad at showing it but the people he loves are always at the forefront of his mind (when he's not being an asshole and repressing his emotions as if the fate of humankind depended on his ability to give his family the cold shoulder and communicating only in grunts and sighs)

———————————— A/n: this was so fun! I love writing head canons because there is no pressure with story flow and how much description and feeling you're putting into it, it's very similar to sharing your thoughts with a friend and that's what endears the format to me so much :) Hope you enjoyed! If you like my work, please consider reblogging and checking out my other works through the master list in my pinned post<3 Love you all🩷

Total word count: 2009

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fans4wga · 1 year ago

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'Why creatives are seeking residuals' - thread by Stefanie Williams

[Tweet thread by Stefanie Williams @/StefWilliams25

TRANSCRIPT:

Why creatives are seeking residuals vs. "do you pay the mattress maker every time you sleep on a mattress?" A thread. I keep hearing over and over again that writers/actors/creatives don't deserve residuals for the work they create. "If I build a bathroom in a house, I don't get paid every time someone uses the toilet."

TRUE! However, your bathroom build has a set market value. Art does not. No one knows what makes one TV show an overnight success, and another a flop. No one knows what makes one song a hit, and the other a dud. If they did, trust me when I say record companies would be churning out Taylor Swifts over and over again. Studios would be making nothing but Stranger Things.

But that isn't the case. No one could predict Stranger Things would be a massive, billion dollar hit. No one could predict Taylor Swift was going to be a world wide phenomenon who literally could record herself reading Aesop's Fables and make millions of dollars. Which is why residuals are important. The pay structure protects both the creators and the publishers/distributors.

The easiest way to explain it is by referencing an author writing a book. Sure, an author might get a very modest up front fee, but the author is banking on royalties to really make money on the book — for every book sold, the author gets a piece of the pie. This protects both the author and the publisher—because if the book is a flop, the publisher doesn't go broke on a financial promise they made to the author that didn't pan out, and if the book is a mega-hit, the author didn't give away a massive, million-dollar book for 20k.

It's a sliding scale that is required for a product that has no set market value. What makes an actor's work on a hit show more valuable than an actor's work on a show that gets canned after five episodes? The market value for art almost always comes after the fact, so residuals account for that reality. They make sure the creator get compensated at a fair market rate. A person who builds a bathroom knows, upfront, what the market rate for a bathroom is. That bathroom won't suddenly be worth 1000 times more than you built it for in six months. It doesn't have the potential to be built for 20k and generate 20 million.

Residuals are a pay structure that simply account for an unsure market value. Trust me, we all wish we could quantify art in terms of dollars. But art is unpredictable. So studios and streamers -- which literally REQUIRE content to stay viable -- have to account for that unpredictability. And for studios (or record labels, or book publishers) it's always trial and error. The only way to get a hit, is to go through a few flops.

For every Whitney Houston, there was a singer you never heard of. For every Sopranos, there was a show that got scrapped mid season. For every Titanic, there was a movie that bombed. For every Twilight, there was a book about vampires that went nowhere. Residuals are kind of a reverse market valuation. They pay a fair wage for a product than can only have a set value once it's been created and effectively consumed.

And even then, shit changes. Anyone think Kate Bush would spend weeks on the top of the charts in 2022? Residuals account for unpredictable markets. And in order to have accurate residuals, streamers and studios need to be transparent and open about their data, which is one of the MANY things the WGA and SAG are both fighting for.

#sag-aftra strike #sag strike #actors strike #union solidarity #support unions #fans4wga #described #wga strike #writers strike

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lani-heart · 8 months ago

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|| series masterlist || next // previously ||

genre(s) -> angst, fluff, smut, non-idol, hybrid au, poly au paring(s) -> ( eventually ) ATEEZ x reader warning(s) -> mentions of abuse, anxiety / paranoia, illegal acts mentioned, violence etc. words -> 3.3k

abstract -> fight or flight... what are you going to choose Hongjoong?

y/n's perspective

After a while, I returned to the apartment and made sure my face didn’t tell them I cried.

I couldn’t let that tiger get to me… but he did. My mind wandered and overthinking everything. I was taught how to differentiate happy hybrids… but I couldn’t now.

His words couldn’t leave my head.

“Are you thinking of adopting them?” I heard as I saw Yeosang behind me. No… I was wondering if you guys lied to me.

“I know you want to help them–” Did I? They weren’t my responsibility… and frankly, Hongjoong was scary. “–we talked and if you really want to help them, we understand.” he said and I wondered…

Did they want me to adopt them?

“San… he told me how he felt when you adopted me. If he said no, I would've been under her control still and I couldn’t wish that on any hybrid” he confessed and I nodded.

“You don’t need to feel guilty–” I don't… but if you want me to adopt the tigers then I’d do anything for you three. “–we promise to try to get along,” he said and I noticed Wooyoung and San by the doorway of my room.

“You’re a good person, without you we would’ve been suffering on our own”

“You do know this is dangerous, right?” Kun asked me as I signed. What was I doing? I couldn’t think straight. Everything was overwhelming… it felt like high school all over again, like almost a year ago when he left me.

They were dangerous but not to them… to me.

Seonghwa came out first. He helped me… he was kind but it was to get out of his own hell hole. He only fulfilled his side of the deal, nothing more… nothing less.

“You? You’re adopting me?” he said with a smile. I didn’t know how to react but I smiled softly… he seemed happy… was he?

“You won't regret it! I… thank you for everything…” I turned him out when I saw the other tiger. He was in a red code protocol gear. “He’s still a code red. The only reason I'm agreeing is because of the training you have… I hope you know what you're doing” Kun said. I don't… I know nothing. I don’t know how to take care of someone… I don’t even know if my own hybrids trust me. If everything was a lie… and I was blissfully just ignorant.

He looked at me with a smirk.

I was just a writer… Why was I biting more than I could chew?

hongjoong's perspective

I don’t know how Seonghwa didn’t notice it. Maybe because of how happy he was… but she was scared of us, even him. What could’ve gotten to her head to adopt us when she’s so scared?

We made it to her building where she was greeted and I could tell this building was expensive. Truly just another rich human with nothing else better to do.

When the elevator opened it revealed an apartment with three hybrids. Now just how blind were they?

“My name is Seonghwa, I'm a white tiger hybrid” he introduced with a bow to show his politeness. “Hongjoong,” I said while bowing slightly only to get smacked on the back by Seonghwa. Silently scolding me for not making a good impression.

Why were good impressions even needed? I doubt we’d stay here for long.

Seonghwa was an annoying happy virus. He immediately made friends with the fox hybrid named Wooyoung. The two often cooked together and Seonghwa was a victim to his teasing. I could tell the Doberman and Seonghwa clashed a bit with their personalities but tried to get along for the sake of the humans.

No one noticed just how… unstable she was becoming.

I was starting to think my words of her hybrids faking everything got to her head. None of this could be true. She had to have had an incentive for them to act like they loved her. They actually treated her like a mate.

Even then… all of them were blind. She was spacing out and smiling softly and nodding to pretend she was listening to them. Every time she did this and caught my eyes she looked nervous… scared. I felt proud to have done such a strong response to her.

It's only been three days… but that panther. Something about him made me feel uneasy. He wasn’t easy to approach like the fox or as easy to converse as the Doberman. Seonghwa has tried and he’d only stare menacingly and give uninterested responses.

He started to see what was happening to the human and how she recoiled in his touch. Almost like she was scared of him. Despite that… I overheard the other day that he’ll give her space.

That she might be overwhelmed by too many hybrids around especially since we were from the circus. He didn’t know I was a red code nor Seonghwa had the potential to be one as well.

I was going to my room when I passed hers… she was in her room. Pacing back and forth mumbling under her breath. I peeked in to see papers scattered around her. She had a pen and was scribbling but she was clearly frustrated.

Maybe I’ll check that out later.

y/n’s perspective

I was confused about everything… I wanted to find comfort in them but I couldn’t. And Seonghwa has been nothing but the sweetest hybrid telling me how thankful he is that I adopted him let alone both him and… Hongjoong. He promised that Hongjoong would come around. He got along well with Wooyoung and helped clean and cook… he even enjoyed watching San and Wooyoung play on the TV and shared a love for fashion like Yeosang.

Everything was… great.

Poor San… he’s been avoiding me. I know it's because I flinched that one time he waved his hand in my face to pull me away from my thoughts. Was I scared of San?

I found myself in the hallway and he attacked me. The broken vase was no longer on the floor, Nothing was on that top shelf anymore. The blood… the sounds of Johnny and his paramedic team. That was almost a year ago now. Why… Why was that flooding my mind now?

I went to my room and turned the lights scaring myself in the process to see Hongjoong sitting on my desk chair. He held up my story… circus.

“Did my performance inspire you?” he said in a mocking voice. I was frozen… “Why are you so scared? I’ll admit, I understand why they like this place so much~” he said, only adding to my pool of thoughts that I couldn't swim out of.

“The food, the luxury, your submission,” he said as he stood up and I took steps backward. “It's all amusing,” he said and I wondered if that's what they thought.

“You, however, have been scattered. Did you finally realize the true nature of hybrids? How they like each other's presence but not yours?” he said and I didn’t want to believe it.

San… he told me how much he hated me in the beginning. Why would he change… is it because he didn’t want to live in the kennel? Was it the same for Wooyoung? And Yeosang didn't… want to be with her anymore so what's the difference here?

“This pathetic piece of work is just that! Pathetic” he said as I saw him put both hands on it getting ready to rip it. My only draft… my months of work. I don’t know why my body moved on its own. But it did… and my fingers grazed it as Hongjoong grabbed my wrist and pulled away the packet of paper with his other hand.

“Let me guess. You were gonna grab the piece of paper out of my hands? Just to what? Punish me? How would you do it? I don’t think you have whips… you don’t look like you'd be into that. Maybe… lock me in the closet? Sleep outside? Or… no food for a week?” he asked as he kept on listing punishments. I couldn’t listen anymore as his grip got tighter the more harmful punishments he listed. His claws dig deep into my wrist. I didn’t mean to cry… I tried to stay strong. They liked the tigers here… I was just collateral.

“Are you even paying attention–” he asked as he now gripped the back of my neck plunging his claws into my skin. “–you humans don’t care what happens. We’re toys, entertainment, fun to you! Just because you can pay your way in life… just because I was born this way I’m the one made into a slave!?” he yelled as I was now questioning… Was the double vision because of my tears? Or because of the blood I was losing?

“Why do you get all the fun?” he asked and I didn't know with what strength I said it but I gave him a way out.

“Then why don’t you run?”

hongjoong’s perspective

Run? That… it was an option now, wasn’t it? I could pretend to be a human… go to those illegal surgeries to try my best to look human.

Why didn’t I think of that before? She wouldn’t be missing the money… wait.

Why wasn’t she moving? I let her go only to hear a thud of her falling down. Why was there so much blood? I tried to shake her awake but nothing worked. I checked for her pulse but I felt nothing?

Did I kill her?

How was I gonna explain that to the four hybrids in the living room?

As much as I tried messing with her head… I knew those three cared about her as stupidly as I thought it would be. Seonghwa… even liked the idea of living a pampered life. While trying to heal his wounds with humans starting with the girl who was bleeding out on her bedroom floor.

Now was my chance… I could get her information. I could get money and leave. I could… live the life I want. But… It didn't change what I did. My hands are stained with my blood– “What did you do?” I heard as I saw Seonghwa standing by the door. He looked at my bloodied hands and then at her.

He slammed the door shut but didn’t lock it.

“Seonghwa, I know what I did was wrong, okay! Just help me find her wallet and maybe even her docu–” “Hongjoong I don’t want to run away and try to get the money for those ridiculous black market surgeries. What did you do?! Why?! She was a good person– Is she even alive?!” he said clearly panicked. He tried feeling for a pulse when he scrambled up to open the door and yell–

“Call 119!” he said. He turned back to look at me with fear in his eyes… “I told you Hongjoong to stop. You misjudged her… what makes you think you’d survive living as a human? Get a job working with the species you hate! You're an idiot and you might've killed–" "Killed?” I heard as I saw the fox hybrid and panther by the doorway. They looked at her body…

Wooyoung started crying… he immediately went to wipe her face of tears and blood to try to wake her up. Whilst I was tackled to the ground with hands wrapped around my throat… I couldn't breathe and I struggled against him. Why was he so strong?!

He didn’t say anything but I could see the rage in his eyes. He was an animal… he showed pure anger, and bloodlust in his eyes as I started feeling faint.

“Let go of him!” I could hear Seonghwa’s voice trying to reason. “She’s alive!” the fox yelled, making the panther look at him and loosen his grip, making me cough out and pant for air.

“Her pulse is there! She’s still alive, we just need the paramedics to get here!” the fox reasoned as I saw the pair look over her dying body. Seonghwa stared at them… what did I do?

A few minutes passed by while we all tried to process everything when we heard people speak in codes.

I saw a tall man in a uniform that seemed like a nurse. He looked at all of us and then her body.

He held a radio– “Kun, in her bedroom, four other hybrids have been located” he said as he slowly went to approach her. Realistically… paramedics don’t go towards the body until the threat has been handled but Sna and Wooyoung looked at him hopefully to help her. Wooyoung moved out of the way while San stayed by her side holding her hand. He looked for a pulse.

He pulled out the radio again– “Faint pulse, get a crash cart ready” he said while now feeling around her wounds.

“Contain all hybrids with a code black status” I heard as I saw the hybrid behavior analysis. He was in charge of me… of seeing if I could ever… live a happy hybrid life.

“You can help her right!?” Wooyoung said and he could only nod as he took out a syringe and surprised Wooyoung by tranquilizing him.

“Please… help her,” he said last as looked at the other two and me to decide. “San, I need to take her, '' the nurse said and the panther seemed unresponsive, which the specialist decided to go for next, not seeing too much resistance as he started to lose consciousness. “Don’t leave me,” he muttered lastly.

The nurse took her and before we could react I felt a prick on my neck. I saw the doorway blurrily reveal the doctor from that place.

“All hybrids have been captured and will be analyzed as a code black”

The next time I opened my eyes I heard banging and yelling.

Yells demanded if the human was okay. Where was I? I sat up to see I was on the floor… the kennel? I looked beside me at Seonghwa. The only thing separating us was glass.

“You're lucky! I should've killed you when I had the chance!!” I heard as I saw the panther. He was in chains and muzzled. Why did he have such intense equipment? It's when I realized… So was I?

Seonghwa didn’t have it. Before I could say anything I noticed a change of smell and the noise of a door opening.

“These are the hybrids under behavior analysis…” I heard as I saw two unknown staff members with the doctor. “Hyung, there's no way that–” “You can follow the orders I give you and fulfill your request or I'll have someone more experienced do this job” he threatened. He didn’t seem like he was in the mood or cared about the situation.

“Is she okay?” I heard… that was the fox. “You five, are under analysis. However, no further action will occur once we get permission from your owner–” “She’s alive?!” They interrupted him. He looked to his side to look at me… she wasn’t.

“Or when she gets announced dead” he finished creating an eerie feeling in the air. “Depending on what she has discussed with lawyers in her revised will, I have permission to act accordingly based on your past records and current situation,” he said as he left. The two staff members stayed however to do checkups… her hybrids begged for anything relating to her.

I noticed San's cage opened. I couldn't see the other two but San did behave for them. “Did she… ever tell you what was bothering her this week?” he asked and I felt my heart stop. They still didn’t know?

“What's been wrong with her this week?” the employee asked. “She’s been… writing more than usual and spacing out,” he asked and the staff sighed.

“You’ve known her for years… what could’ve bothered–" "Anything really… once something gets into her head, she’s insistent. It must’ve really bothered her if you noticed it. Usually she’s better at hiding it,” he said and I started feeling something eat me up. Was it guilt?

“She’ll be okay,” he said and San didn’t seem to believe him. “She’s dead isn’t she… or dying?” he asked and the face he made seemed to clarify any questions.

They were waiting for her status… but I could see on their faces that they were already mourning their friend… this feels like a dream– no a nightmare.

I noticed my door open. They were the most cautious with me… I felt like I couldn’t breathe. What did I do?!

“Unresponsive Kun.” — “Hongjoong?” I heard the only friend I've ever had say worried for me. Would he still be worried for me if she died? If he knew I tormented her?

“The orange tiger is going into isolation”

seonghwa’s perspective

It was a dream. I got a sense of freedom… I knew that she was scared of Hongjoong and in association was scared of me. But I saw how she flinched away from San.

I learned that he was her first hybrid… and she became scared of him. Something that Hongjoong said to her. He got into her head… and now here we were awaiting our death sentence.

I know the other three might get another chance but us? We're from the circus… we're gonna die here without feeling how love feels like… we were so close… to feel loved.

“It's all you tiger’s fault” Yeosang said and I knew we didn’t get along well. I tried my best to get along with them… and they tried their best for my sake. “I shouldn’t have convinced her to help you” he muttered and that made sense. “She adopted us because you suggested it?” I asked and he scoffed.

“She came back the day of your interviews spacing out and in her head… I assumed she wanted to adopt you two out of pity like she did with me” Yeosang said and San scoffed.

“She didn’t adopt you out of pity… she wanted a better life for you,” he said and I chuckled softly. “She… she didn’t want to adopt us. Not after what Hongjoong told her that day. It makes sense now…” I said and they looked at me like I was crazy.

“The day of the interview, Hongjoong was a red-coded hybrid. So she brought me with her to help calm him down. But instead, he got into her head… and she ran. He mentioned something about hybrids pretending to love their owners to survive and that we’d do anything to survive. That one day if you wanted to kill her” I explained and I saw how distraught they looked. Wooyoung now had tears running down his cheek and Yeosang hid himself in the corner whilst San… he only stared at his hands.

“So this is it? She’ll die thinking what we felt for her was fake?” Wooyoung asked and San tried getting out of his restraints.

“What are you doing… there's no point in fighting it” Yeosang scolded the panther but San was hysterical. “I’ll never live it down… that’ll haunt me for the rest of my life. None of you were there… not when I almost did kill her. She… she wouldn’t have believed that stupid tiger if it wasn’t for what I did! And… and—” he broke down crying. “–she should’ve left me in that stupid adoption center” he finished with his voice cracking.

The room was filled with silence and even I felt tears blurry my vision.

San continued to hysterically get out of his restraints when the doctor came in again. “San?” they waited to see and San did not respond instead his cries were painful. He was also injured fighting in the restraints.

“San, panther hybrid prepare a code purple room”

@wonuangel @danirael @angelsaway @krissroo @minkysmilk @mayonnaise-on-toast @robertsbbygirl @superbbananananana @hyukssunflower @kitty4hwa @justconniez @senpai-of-doom @kibs-and-bits @caityelise99 @ilovekinny @ateezennie23 @wooahaelemons @purplelady85 @watamotee33@chidess97 @littlelostdemonofthelight @maliamaiden @burntarm1n @spooo00oky @eastleighsblog @momo-peachy @kitstar1117 @quartzpirate @sunnyhokyu @iwishiwasrichasfuck @theginger543210 @pandolinka @ddaeing @kpopnightingale @slid3er @kekdo-520 @puppyminnnie @sparklinghwa222 @calicanbeevil @itsvxlentine @atinism @loumin908 @smally97 @rxnexxi @acetruepunk @majesticbeluga @namjooncrabs @tashizxy @itstheghostofmypast @smilefordongil @teeziny @totallynotlyntv @kyeos4ng @prodsh00ky @acescavern

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olympiansowl · 17 days ago

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One thing I find so interesting about the PJO fandom is how they actually accepted how Rick fucked up 90% of the goddesses. Even when he uses a version of a myth that specifically talks about men being idiots, he villainizes women. Like, no one complained about how fucked up is that he used the story of Hephaestus trying to rape Athena and turning it into a “poor guy cried bc he was rejected by a girl” thing?

The true story is literally Hephaestus trying to rape Athena, she fights him off but his semen falls into her skirt and cleans it with a piece of cloth and tosses it into the ground (earth, which is Gaia) and from there, Erictonio is born. And Athena raised the child as her own even tho he was the product of the assault she suffered. The guy ruled Athens.

Rick turned it into Hephaestus falling in love with Athena and crying on her lap, making her reject and KICK him plus being disgusted by the tears and the dirt.

He also used all of Ovid versions he could possibly find to fuck Athena up. Arachne doesn’t happen with Greek writers and Medusa was never cursed (or assaulted) when we talk about the OG Myth. She was already born a monster and Athena only helps Perseus kill her bc yeah, Medusa killed people.

Also, Medusa’s version by Ovid is a lot alike Cassandra of Troy story, and let me tell ya, Cassandra was cursed but it wasn’t by a woman. And when she was raped by Ajax, Athena made sure that he didn’t made it back to Greece.

Now I’m gonna talk about Demeter. Demeter, who had her daughter kidnapped, raped and imprisoned, and was turned into the typical “mother in law who hated son in law bc she thinks her daughter could do better” when yeah…she has all the right to feel angry bc her daughter was KIDNAPPED.

Artemis doesn’t hate men and her followers also don’t hate men. Feminism isn’t about hating men.

Aphrodite. I cannot even describe how dirty they made Aphrodite’s children. Like be fr one of her children helped build what it would’ve been Rome. He was a fighter. And her cabin there is just so different of what she is truly like. They should have a lot of other powers.

Also, a lot of women from the books follows the same stereotype of “omg I hate makeup it’s so girlish and I’d rather fight” like you can be feminine, wear makeup and STILL FIGHT. One doesn’t erase the other.

Another thing, but this one is about MOTHERS! I truly cannot understand the way Rick creates his women. I’m serious tho. Like, I’m sorry but sometimes it seems that his thing some goddesses (Athena, for example) are personal. The “abandoning Athens” thing, the “should’ve chosen Poseidon”, the way he wrote her as being cold towards her kids…in one of the versions, Athena was the one who saved Dionysus from Hera. She raised a child and made him a king even though he was the product of her almost rapist. She was there helping heroes all along. She fought for Odysseus for ten years.

Also, this fandom is incapable of seeing the difference between Minerva and Athena. Minerva gave Annabeth the mark, Athena had nothing to do with this. Annabeth is her favorite daughter, she made her architect of Olympus, protected her through her journey to find Luke and Thalia, disobeyed her fathers orders trying to help to find Annabeth, made battle plans with her and all…and she always claimed all of her children.

I think people just don’t like her bc she doesn’t trust Percy. And she shouldn’t. I love him, but Athena IS the goddess of wisdom after all and as such, it would be pretty dumb to trust a demigod that won a battle against the god of war when he was only twelve. Not to mention that everyone kinda thought the “preserve or destroy Olympus” was on his hands. And he tortured a goddess…I’m sorry but she was pretty much right. Wouldn’t trust someone that had the power to fuck me and my family up either. She dint made the choice based on “omg I hate my rival and his children” even more so bc she was trained by one of his children and bunch of grandchildren. She made the choice based on what she thought was less risky.

If she was so against Percabeth, I can assure you she would’ve killed Percy and probably wouldn’t even suffer much consequences. She admires some things about Percy but she was right about his flaw. And she also helped him during one of his quest to go to college. Does she loves the idea of the relationship? No. But that’s bc she is precisely the opposite of love. She doesn’t make decisions based on what her heart says, but on what her brain says. If she succumbs to the heart, then she would seize to be goddess of wisdom, reason and all of what she values. That’s why she vowed to never marry.

And, as Helenist, I do not take the myths that seriously bc when we talk about religion, I have a clear mind that those myth were made by humans who used the gods as a tool to justify some of their actions, and I hate almost all of the retellings that those authors do, but is so wild to see how much power they have on society bc now I cannot see anything about the gods without someone saying shit about them. But I do know all about the myths and I gotta say, doesn’t make much sense to use a Roman author to talk about Greek Gods. He made them dirty. Also doesn’t make much sense to use this versions of Ovid but still change it to make it more sweet for the men. Poseidon and Athena didn’t spend that much time beefing, they even have a city together (Troezen) and she definitely doesn’t hate his children. Her best friend was literally his grandchild.

Safe to say that y’all should probably question Rick on how he treats women bc I was seeing the PJO series (the cast is amazing btw, safe to say that Leah/Annabeth is my fav) and by the looks of it, saying on how he changed Athena’s personality one more time, I legit think that Annie won’t jump to save her friends on season 3, she will probably be pushed by her mother or whatever.

Another thing: apparently only the women that like and have a friendship with Percy are treated as cool. But that’s on the fandom, not the author.

I forgot to add one thing and I’m gonna fix the grammar later but the “this is for children” excuse isn’t really valid considering that we saw Gabe being aggressive with Sally, we also saw Ares being a jerk to Clarisse (which also doesn’t make sense) and the story clearly states cheating, fights, death and a lot of other terrors. If you’re gonna use a rape version of a myth bc you chose to fuck a Goddess up, then you should state that the man is to blame. In the books we see Medusa saying she was Poseidon’s girlfriend/lover…she was his lover on the og myth, not in the version Rick chose. In the version that he chose, she was clearly raped. But he erased that and replaced rapist with boyfriend. He could’ve chosen to do another path if he didn’t want to talk about sexual abuse, I can tell y’all a hundred of ways this could go, but he chose this path and changed it, favoring the man. Again.

He could’ve gone with the theogony and said what was there that basically is: she was a monster, BORN a monster, daughter of other two monsters, no one wanted to get close to her, but he did. They slept together in a camp of flowers.

Athena only enters the story wayyy after this. And, as y’all can see, no curse. Yet, he chose to go with the rape version were Medusa is a maiden, loyal to Athena, gets raped on Athena’s temple by Poseidon and Athena curses her. And what did the author do? He made this: Medusa, loyal to Athena, fell in love with Poseidon and they did things on her temple. Athena cursed her. Again erasing the men’s fault.

The hate on Athena doesn’t make any sense at all. Y’all love some other male characters that don’t have a single sense of responsibility and possibly did everything wrong in the book. I saw people condemn Athena for her treatment of Deadalus when the guy literally killed his nephew bc he was more praised than him. And Athena gave him a mark that burned and did some shit to teach him a lesson. Poseidon wanted a trial to avenge his rapist son that was killed by Ares bc he tried to rape one of Ares daughters. A RAPIST. And Poseidon is treated like and angel bc what??? He likes Percy? Is his father and got him a gift? And Athena is being hated bc she isn’t his number one fan and her Roman part decided to give Annabeth a Mark? And mind you she’s just like that with him bc she knows more than everyone else and knows that he is dangerous. A good guy? Yes, Percy is the most amazing guy. Still dangerous. Still had the power to torture a goddess and win against the god of war. And she doesn’t dislike him, she dislikes his relationship with her daughter. And even so, she didn’t stop the relationship. So yeah I won’t ever get why the women always get more hate than the men considering this.

Again, as a Helenist, I don’t take the myths seriously when I talk about the religion in general bc the Gods are superiors. They don’t have human flaws. But, as someone who knows about the myths, is safe to say I hate those stories that uses myths like that and turns it against the Goddesses and make them out to be the worst ever. All the gods deserved way better than what they got with those retellings.

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fursasaida · 1 year ago

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Hi! Just wanted to ask. How can I give my students assignments that are chat-gpt proof? Or that they won't just copy the answer without at least doing some editing?

Hi! So, I don't think anything is ChatGPT-proof. You fundamentally cannot stop people from using it to take a shortcut. You can't even stop them from copying the answer without editing it. However, I think you can work with this reality. So, you can do three things:

Don't be a cop about it.

If you make your objective "stop the children from using the thing to cheat," you are focusing on the wrong thing. You will be constantly scrutinizing every submission with suspicion, you will be accusing people of cheating--and some of them will not have cheated, and they will remember this forever--and you will be aiming at enforcement (which is trying to hold back the sea) instead of on inviting and supporting learning whenever and wherever possible. (I'll come back to this under item 2.)

Regarding why enforcement is holding back the sea: It is fundamentally rational for them to do this. We, who "love learning" (i.e. are good at what our academic system sees as learning, for various reasons have built our lives around that, happen to enjoy these activities), see everything they might cheat themselves of by doing it, because we know what we got out of doing this type of work. Many students, however--especially at the kind of school I teach at--are there to get the piece of paper that might, if they're lucky, allow them access to a relatively livable and stable income. The things that are wrong with this fact are structural and nothing to do with students' failings as people, or (tfuh) laziness, or whatever. We cannot make this not true (we can certainly try to push against it in certain ways, but that only goes so far). More pragmatically, chatgpt and similar are going to keep getting better, and detecting them is going to get harder, and your relationships with your students will be further and further damaged as you are forced to hound them more, suspect them more, falsely accuse more people, while also looking like an idiot because plenty of them will get away with it. A productive classroom requires trust. The trust goes both ways. Being a cop about this will destroy it in both directions.

So the first thing you have to do is really, truly accept that some of them are going to use it and you are not always going to know when they do. And when I say accept this, I mean you actually need to be ok with it. I find it helps to remember that the fact that a bot can produce writing to a standard that makes teachers worry means we have been teaching people to be shitty writers. I don't know that so much is lost if we devalue the 5-paragraph SAT essay and its brethren.

So the reason my policy is to say it's ok to use chatgpt or similar as long as you tell me so and give me some thinking about what you got from using it is that a) I am dropping the charade that we don't all know what's going on and thereby making it (pedagogical term) chill; b) I am modeling/suggesting that if you use it, it's a good idea to be critical about what it tells you (which I desperately want everyone to know in general, not just my students in a classroom); c) I am providing an invitation to learn from using chatgpt, rather than avoid learning by using it. Plenty of them won't take me up on that. That's fine (see item 3 below).

So ok, we have at least established the goal of coming at it from acceptance. Then what do you do at that point?

Think about what is unique to your class and your students and build assignments around that.

Assignments, of course, don't have to be simply "what did Author mean by Term" or "list the significant thingies." A prof I used to TA under gave students the option of interviewing a family member or friend about their experiences with public housing in the week we taught public housing. Someone I know who teaches a college biology class has an illustration-based assignment to draw in the artsier students who are in her class against their will. I used to have an extra-credit question that asked them to pick anything in the city that they thought might be some kind of clue about the past in that place, do some research about it, and tell me what they found out and how. (And that's how I learned how Canal St. got its name! Learning something you didn't know from a student's work is one of the greatest feelings there is.) One prompt I intend to use in this class will be something to the effect of, "Do you own anything--a t-shirt, a mug, a phone case--that has the outline of your city, state, or country on it? Why? How did you get it, and what does having this item with this symbol on it mean to you? Whether you personally have one or not, why do you think so many people own items like this?" (This is for political geography week, if anyone's wondering.)

These are all things that target students' personal interests and capabilities, the environments they live in, and their relationships within their communities. Chatgpt can fake that stuff, but not very well. My advisor intends to use prompts that refer directly to things he said in class or conversations that were had in class, rather than to a given reading, in hopes that that will also make it harder for chatgpt to fake well because it won't have the context. The more your class is designed around the specific institution you teach at and student body you serve, the easier that is to do. (Obviously, how possible that is is going to vary based on what you're teaching. When I taught Urban Studies using the city we all lived in as the example all through the semester, it was so easy to make everything very tailored to the students I had in that class that semester. That's not the same--or it doesn't work the same way--if you're teaching Shakespeare. But I know someone who performs monologues from the plays in class and has his students direct him and give him notes as a way of drawing them into the speech and its niceties of meaning. Chatgpt is never going to know what stage directions were given in that room. There are possibilities.) This is all, I guess, a long way of saying that you'll have a better time constructing assignments chatgpt will be bad at if you view your class as a particular situation, occurring only once (these people, this year), which is a situation that has the purpose of encouraging thought--rather than as an information-transfer mechanism. Of course information transfer happens, but that is not what I and my students are doing together here.

Now, they absolutely can plug this type of prompt into chatgpt. I've tried it myself. I asked it to give me a personal essay about the political geography prompt and a critical personal essay about the same thing. (I recommend doing this with your own prospective assignments! See what they'd get and whether it's something you'd grade highly. If it is, then change either the goal of the assignment or at least the prompt.) Both of them were decent if you are grading the miserable 5-paragraph essay. Both of them were garbage if you are looking for evidence of a person turning their attention for the first time to something they have taken for granted all their lives. Chatgpt has neither personality nor experiences, so it makes incredibly vague, general statements in the first person that are dull as dishwater and simply do not engage with what the prompt is really asking for. I already graded on "tell me what you think of this/how this relates to your life" in addition to "did you understand the reading," because what I care about is whether they're thinking. So students absolutely can and will plug that prompt into chatgpt and simply c/p the output. They just won't get high marks for it.

If they're fine with not getting high marks, then okay. For a lot of them this is an elective they're taking essentially at random to get that piece of paper; I'm not gonna knock the hustle, and (see item 1) I couldn't stop them if I wanted to. What I can do is try to make class time engaging, build relationships with them that make them feel good about telling me their thoughts, and present them with a variety of assignments that create opportunities for different strengths, points of interest, and ways into the material, in hopes of hooking as many different people in as many different ways as I can.

This brings me back to what I said about inviting learning. Because I have never yet in my life taught a course that was for people majoring in the subject, I long ago accepted that I cannot get everyone to engage with every concept, subject, or idea (or even most of them). All I can do is invite them to get interested in the thing at hand in every class, in every assignment, in every choice of reading, in every question I ask them. How frequently each person accepts these invitations (and which ones) is going to vary hugely. But I also accept that people often need to be invited more than once, and even if they don't want to go through the door I'm holding open for them right now, the fact that they were invited this time might make it more likely for them to go through it the next time it comes up, or the time after that. I'll never know what will come of all of these invitations, and that's great, actually. I don't want to make them care about everything I care about, or know everything I know. All I want is to offer them new ways to be curious.

Therefore: if they use chatgpt to refuse an invitation this week, fine. That would probably have happened anyway in a lot of cases even without chatgpt. But, just as before, I can snag some of those people's attention on one part of this module in class tomorrow. Some of them I'll get next time with a different type of assignment. Some of them I'll hook for a moment with a joke. I don't take the times that doesn't happen as failures. But the times that it does are all wins that are not diminished by the times it doesn't.

Actually try to think of ways to use chatgpt to promote learning.

I DREAM of the day I'm teaching something where it makes sense to have students edit an AI-written text. Editing is an incredible way to get better at writing. I could generate one in class and we could do it all together. I could give them a prompt, ask them to feed it into chatgpt, and ask them to turn in both what they got and some notes on how they think it could be better. I could give them a pretty traditional "In Text, Author says Thing. What did Author mean by that?" prompt, have them get an answer from chatgpt, and then ask them to fact-check it. Etc. All of these get them thinking about written communication and, incidentally, demonstrate the tool's limitations.

I'm sure there are and will be tons of much more creative ideas for how to incorporate chatgpt rather than fight it. (Once upon a time, the idea of letting students use calculators in math class was also scandalous to many teachers.) I have some geography-specific ideas for how to use image generation as well. When it comes specifically to teaching, I think it's a waste of time for us to be handwringing instead of applying ourselves to this question. I am well aware of the political and ethical problems with chatgpt, and that's something to discuss with, probably, more advanced students in a seminar setting. But we won't (per item 1) get very far simply insisting that Thing Bad and Thing Stupid. So how do we use it to invite learning? That's the question I'm interested in.

Finally, because tangential to your question: I think there's nothing wrong with bringing back more in-class writing and even oral exams (along with take-home assignments that appeal to strengths and interests other than expository writing as mentioned above). These assessments play to different strengths than written take-homes. For some students, that means they'll be harder or scarier; by the same token, for other students they'll be easier and more confidence-building. (Plus, "being able to think on your feet" is also a very good ~real-world skill~ to teach.) In the spirit of trying to offer as many ways in as possible, I think that kind of diversification in assignments is a perfectly good idea.

#teaching #chatgpt #posting this on my first teaching day of the semester!#this is probably a lot longer than what you asked for but it is the answer i know how to give. hope something in it helps!

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little-diable · 2 months ago

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Kinktober 6 - Carlisle Cullen

Finally time for the next Kinktober drabble! Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated. Enjoy my loves. xxx

🖤 Priest 🖤

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, talks of sinning

Pairing: Carlisle Cullen x fem!reader (800 words)

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

header by my love @theanythingbuthuman

"I barely remember the last time I’ve seen you here, (y/n).” His voice was soft, calling to her like it did in her dreams. Sinful dreams that would leave her gasping for air as she woke with sweat pearling on her forehead.

“I am sorry, father. I fear I’ve lost my trust in His guidance.” She didn’t dare look at the man, the priest she had known for years on end by now. Father Cullen had joined the church when she had been a teenager, forcing her to develop a heavy crush on the man who had always looked at her with those golden eyes that perfectly matched his fair contrast.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He sat down on the wooden bench next to her, gaze focused on the altar he had stood behind for the morning service. With his hands interlocked in his lap, the priest allowed (y/n) to think over her choices for a moment, wondering how much she could tell the man without being judged.

“There isn’t much to say. I’ve strayed from my path and now I can’t find my way back. But this is on me, I doubt anybody can help me.” (Y/n) dared to shoot him a quick look, admiring his handsome side profile before looking away again. Her breath hitched in her chest as he reached for her hand, holding onto her with a strong grasp that managed to momentarily ground her.

“I am always here for you, (y/n). I’d like to listen, but perhaps this place isn’t what you need at the moment. Why don’t you come by and visit me at home tonight, and we can talk about whatever it is that keeps you distracted?”

……

Perhaps she should have known that the second she’d cross the threshold of his home, she’d lose all sanity. Her body had been guided by some higher power she couldn’t understand. And now, as she found herself with her back pressed against the mattress and her fingers tugging on the cross necklace dangling from his neck, she couldn’t even remember how she had ended up here - tangled in the sheets of the priest she had been crushing on.

“Keep your eyes on me, love. Darkness has no power over you here.” His voice didn’t tremble, it didn’t even drip with any emotions besides the clear lust thumping through his veins. (Y/n)’s thoughts were silenced, merely focused on the handsome priest who was about to fuck her after years of teasing her.

“Father, please, let me feel you.” Her desperate words hallowed through the room, filling a momentary silence. The priest didn’t reply, at least not with any words, all he did was finally push into her, forcing her body to welcome him. A blinding sensation buzzed through (y/n), leaving her trembling while he began to build a toe curling rhythm.

Her thoughts were racing, reminding her of the sin she was committing, offering her body to a man of God, forcing Priest Cullen into darkness's open arms. But she couldn’t pull back, she couldn’t find it in herself to care as he fucked her harder and faster with every shaky inhale of air.

“No word of God will ever be able to teach you about a sensation so strong, but it’s a proof of His love. He knows you were made to find me.” The priest’s words reassured (y/n)'s racing thoughts, finding hope in his guidance while he fucked her closer towards the edge. With their eyes holding contact, he dipped his head down, kissing her softly almost.

One of her hands tugged on his golden roots while the other found her pulsing bundle. She was desperate to let go, to choke on his name as he fucked her through her high. A high that followed moments later, pushing her into the soaring waves of her orgasm.

Gasps and moans ripped through (y/n), sounds that rang in his ears while pride simmered inside of Father Cullen’s stomach. His hips kept snapping against hers, burying his cock inside of her again and again before following her down the edge with a groan of his.

“Are you sure I won’t be punished for sinning yet again?” (Y/n)’s whispers filled the room as he laid down next to her, pulling her against his side before pressing a kiss to her hairline.

“You won’t, because I am a servant of Him, and He trusts my actions as much as I trust His guidance.”

#Carlisle Cullen smut #little-diables kinktober24 #Carlisle Cullen imagine #twilight smut #kinktober #Carlisle Cullen x reader

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orbitariums · 3 months ago

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( in the accent of a suburban blk girlie ) dhmu just thinking ab being art and patrick's joint pretty little thing and they're both like hah ! art/patrick could never score a girl like this, she's different from every woman ive ever met ( black as hell, boujie as hell, BUILT as hell ), he doesn't have it like me. and then all of a sudden they both find themselves at a mostly black club she frequents and posts ab on myspace a lot and they both find themselves giving her flirty, llustful looks across the dance floor at her, go to give eachother a 'hah you could never pull all that' look and realize they're both doing the same thing and then realizing that you could pull any little frat-esque, trust funded white boy you wanted and they LOCK TF IN on proving they could treat and fuck you best

- 🎹

all that | artrick + black reader

literally obsessed with this request piano anon ... thissss is universe-building and i LOVEEEE to cross cultures >:-) also, made this playlist to fit the vibe (tried to keep it 2006 themed but haddd to throw some cash cobain in there — his new album is also perfect to listen to for this)

contains: a FINE black GYAL, art + patrick feening they ain't never BEEN with a baddie, smut: fingering, oral (f! receiving), threesome i realize i could've made this a drabble but i'm a writer. so imma write. so i hope y'all fw this! word count: 7.7k and not proofread

It's giving Stanford era Art and Patrick — Art feels like he has dibs on you because he met you first and takes a few classes with you. Unlike Patrick, Art prides himself on being your friend — even though you've really only interacted through class projects, and Art hardly has the courage to talk to you outside of class.

You're different from anybody Art or Patrick have wanted in the past. Stanford opened up a door to a whole new world for them — a world outside of rich white girls who spent their summers in the Hamptons or elite tennis camps. and you were the key holder. you were hands-down the most stunning girl they'd ever seen. For Art, it was the Marley twists that reached your butt (a staple hairstyle of yours when you weren't rotating from lace fronts to sew-ins to natural), the way your brown eyes glimmered when a ray of sun shone over you through the window.

For Patrick it was your lips, thick and glossy or perfectly painted with a brown lip combo — gawking at you in the cafeteria when he visits and watching you reapply your lip gloss after you eat might be his favorite pastime.

Once, Patrick literally groaned, throwing his head back with a hand on his forehead when you bent over to pick up your lip liner, then readjusted your jeans and did that little jump trying to fit your ass properly back in the pants. Art couldn't even call him out on it because it took everything in him to hold back a whimper.

Your skin was supple and a rich brown, soft like a pillow they wanted to sink into. everything about you was something to admire — your laugh, the certainty in your voice whenever you spoke, your graceful yet assertive demeanor. You knew who you were, and that was something lacking from all the Sarahs and Kaylors and Brittanys they had been with. And, satisfying their basest desires, was your stallion body. tall, thick, and fit.

"She's so pretty," Art blinked slowly, the two of them watching you from a distance in the library as you gathered with a group of friends, standing around a table and giggling softly.

"Her ass is so fat. I've never seen anything like that shit before," Patrick murmured, his eyebrows furrowed as if he were concerned— really he was just incredulous.

A beat as Art swallowed hard, clenching his jaw. Ignoring the way his pants grew tighter. Patrick doing the same.

"Yeah," he exhaled after a moment of silence and low-eyed ogling from the two of them.

It was weeks of that — just gawking at you and getting themselves worked up thinking about you. At that point, there was more sexual tension between Art and Patrick than either of the two lusting boys had managed to work up with you. Tashi found their fantasizing aggravating and berated them for not just going up to you and talking to you — secretly, Art and Patrick praised the fact that Tashi has a girlfriend, otherwise she'd be competition too.

Art practically fainted when he saw you in the hallway talking to Patrick— Patrick leaning against the wall with his hand just above his head, towering over you with the confidence of a sly dog. He could just make out the murmurs of your conversation, the warm ringing of your laugh, Patrick's flirtatious chuckling overlapping just a few seconds later. He was laying it on thick, and Art felt like he might go into cardiac arrest with how angry he was.

Art strode up to the two of you with determination, slowing down once he gets closer so he doesn't come off as defensive as he felt. He gave Patrick an icy, tight-lipped grin that made Patrick smirk ever-so-slightly, his eyes wandering to some spot just above Art's head.

"Pat," Art bleated. He turned to you, his eyes softening along with his brain and everything else in his body except his dick. He smiled gently, locking eyes with you. "YN. It's nice to see you. I'm Art, by the way."

You shook your head and chuckled, one of your braids drifting over your shoulder. You pushed it back, and Art and Patrick went numb at the simple maneuver. You bit down softly on your bottom lip, grinning bemusedly,

"I know who you are. We did like two chem projects together, don't you remember?"

"Yeah, remember?" Patrick echoed, glancing over smugly at Art, who was too enamored by you to side-eye Patrick in return.

"Yeah. Yeah of course I remember. You were the backbone of our projects," Art trailed off into a genuine laugh, one full of appreciation.

"Well, I am pre-med, so," a slight laugh bubbled up in your throat and it was so attractive and confident, Art couldn't help but grin at you dazedly.

"Smart girl," Patrick inserted himself, catching your eye as soon as you turned your head to him again.

You didn't miss the way he held eye contact, the way he was so comfortable giving you a name to hold on to, like it was something he was used to doing with you. There's some sort of intimacy to a nickname like that, suggesting something provocative yet impossible to name. You're well aware of the fact that they're both attracted to you — you couldn't possibly miss them staring at you even when you knew they thought they were being discreet.

Seeing them now, up close and personal, finally actually talking to you instead of checking you out and avoiding eye contact, you saw their strategies, their archetypes. Art, the charming and unassuming rabbit — assumed timid by most but smart and eventually crafty — and Patrick, the rakish, bold fox, unabashed in his cunning and willing to show out. Both types that you'd seen before, but not quite in this form. And both intrigued you deeply. You, the snake. Letting them have their glory in this game now, but plotting just how you would leer over them soon enough, evaluating your prey.

"Gotta be. I only get one chance," you replied to Patrick's comment.

You could tell he was used to having girls stuck, and you weren't that type. But with you, their eagerness and need to prove themselves was strong right away.

You could tell they were trying to figure out what to say. You figured they were used to girls giggling and blushing over them. Maybe they expected a thank you, complete with hair twirling and bashfulness, like you didn't already know you were smart, fine, and everything in between.

"Mkay," you hummed, smiling precociously up at them. "I'm gonna hit the library, got a bio exam next week. I'll see you both later?"

"Yeah. Yeah, you'll see us," Art assured you immediately, on top of Patrick drawling,

"We'll be on the lookout."

You chuckled, giving them one last look over your lashes before you turned around. You could feel their eyes on you as they left, tracking all the way down to your hips which swayed as you walked.

They watched you like that all the way out the double doors, in a trance. When the door finally closed, Art swiveled on his feet and jabbed Patrick in the shoulder, walking off dramatically. Patrick caught up to him quickly.

"What the fuck? What's that for?" he whined.

"What the hell man, you can't just talk to her," Art frowned.

Patrick paused, staring at Art like he was a middle schooler,

"I just did. Besides, it's not like you were talking to her anyway, I did us both a favor."

Art knew he was being petulant but he couldn't himself — he didn't mind admiring you with Patrick, but sharing you was a whole 'nother thing. He wasn't ready to admit that the thought turned him on, and the attraction was still fresh enough that he was possessive. Maybe the doors would open once he knew he could get you.

"Yeah, well I was gonna."

"Ha!" Patrick barked out a cold laugh. "Like that'd get you anywhere."

"Fuck does that mean?" Art scoffed, glaring at his best friend and lamenting the luscious mop of overgrown dark curls brushing against his forehead.

Patrick tapped the underbrim of Art's red hat, which Art quickly readjusted,

"Look at you. You're dressed like a skinny white cuck. You don't even know what to do with all that." Patrick was growing more and more defensive and loud by the minute. He shook his head and glared off into the distance like he was thinking of just how he'd handle "all that," then continued. "She wants a big dog."

Art actually laughed — he genuinely doubled over laughing, and Patrick marched along while Art was cackling a few feet behind. He caught up to Patrick, red in the face,

"And you're a big dog? You're a rich white Jew from Rochester, New York."

Patrick smirked, like he knew something Art didn't — but when does he not know everything before Art has even gotten a hint? Or at least, he pretends to know everything. Art wasn't sure if it was too late to come out from under Patrick's wing, it's all he knew.

"Exactly," Patrick responded quietly.

Art, miffed but trying not to show it, switched the trajectory of the conversation and shook his head. He offered the first reality check ever since this little crush had formed,

"Don't sound too sure of yourself. I don't think either of us are her type."

"C'mon Art, don't be racist. You think she only likes black guys?"

Art was ruffled— he retorted,

"I didn't say that!"

"Whatever, I got her Myspace. I'll give it to you so you can stalk her but don't actually follow her like a creep. You're welcome, dumbass. You can thank me for bringing you a step forward from jerking your tiny little dick while you think of her alone in your dorm room."

How the fuck did he get her Myspace?

| | |

Patrick was back again by next week, fooling around on the computer while Art laid back on his bed and bounced a tennis ball against the ceiling.

"Oh shit," Patrick muttered to himself, a toothpick wiggling in the corner of his mouth. Art perked up, sitting up on his elbows.

"What?"

"Come look," Patrick waved Art over.

On the computer screen was your Myspace, which you just updated few minutes ago.

[ YN ] Can't wait to hit up Nebula later tonight!

"What's Nebula?" Art asked, his voice quiet and curious as he squinted at the glowing screen.

Patrick wordlessly pulled up another tab and typed up Nebula. It was a club a few miles north of campus. It had no description but a bunch of pictures. It was different from what they were used to — frat parties consisting of fist bumping and neon necklaces, a sea of white crashed against the floor and someone shotgunning a can of Budweiser. Instead, they're looking at photos of a nightclub with flashy lights and graffiti decor, and not a single hint of white — at least, not in any of the pictures. But it looks busy, and as far as they can tell, it actually looks fun.

Patrick and Art scanned the page of images meticulously, it was like their brains were reconfiguring. After some time, they both speak at once:

"Should we go?"

"We're fucking going."

The boys spent the next few hours getting ready. Or at least, Art did. Patrick didn't have a change of clothes, so he was going as he was — untucked Ralph polo, khaki shorts and all. Art on the other hand, showered and rotated through multiple outfits. By his third shirt, Patrick was fatigued,

"What are you doing?"

Art held up a white t-shirt to the mirror and angled it against his body,

"I don't wanna show up looking like an asshole. Look at you, what are you wearing?"

"There's nothing wrong with it," Patrick griped, though he did a double take at himself behind Art in the mirror.

"Did you not see how everyone was dressed in the pictures? We're gonna look like idiots if we show up like a bunch of tennis douchebags," Art retorted, finally deciding on a white shirt and ripped blue jeans.

"We are tennis douchebags," Patrick said to himself. "Got a pair of black jeans I can wear?"

Art smirked wordlessly, throwing a pair over to Patrick.

The club is packed, to say the least. But it's huge. The bouncer took a long, hard look at the two boys before graciously deciding to let them in. They did look painfully out of place — the club seemed not to have a white person in sight for miles. They were tokens here, not oblivious to the curious looks and outright glares. Chingy's Right Thurr was blasting from the club speakers, booming over the sound of Air Force 1s and chunky heels scuffling across the floor. Art and Patrick stood in the front, taking in the view of the dance floor like a pair of birds overlooking the sea from the shore.

"What if she's not even here?" Art muttered.

"She's here dude, trust me. No way she's staying in on a Friday night after exams and this is clearly the place to go," Patrick shouted over the music. The two silently scanned over the crowd, desperate to pick her out in a sea of people. Then, Patrick laid eyes on her. He jabbed Art's side, who immediately snapped his vision to focus on you, so far away on the dance floor, unaware of their presence.

You were in a tight-fitting short pink dress that hugged every inch of your body — it seemed like it was made for you. Your tits sat pretty and your ass jiggled with even the slightest move. Your brown skin glinted under the flashing lights, and reflections shimmered off of your golden bracelets. You were with a group of friends, laughing and rolling your body to the beat, hips swaying with the motion of water. Patrick and Art were absolutely stuck, staring at you with dry mouths.

"Fuck," Art mouthed, and Patrick found his lips pulled beneath his teeth.

You didn't have a care in the world. You weren't drunk, but you had a few drinks in you and the bass was thudding against your eardrums just right. And you knew you looked good. Everything felt right — but the last thing you expected to see when you turned your head was two white boys, especially not two white boys who you knew. They seemed to realize that they were caught once you made eye contact with them, squinting at first in confusion.

Then, you saw it, the lustful look in both of their eyes. Patrick was unabashedly checking you out — you were sure he was doing it before, but now it was like he wanted you to know. And Art had this look in his eyes, so deep and watchful that you could tell he was simply drinking you in. Arms tucked over his chest, his tongue swiping slowly over his lip.

You giggled, returning their gazes with a subtly flirtatious cock of your head, and a bemused grin. Patrick smiled and nodded, and Art cocked his head in unison with you. Like he was playing. And you liked this game. You turned to your friends for just a moment and quickly excused yourself, then turned back to face the two boys, glancing towards the bar.

You didn't wait for them, just started slowly sauntering over, knowing they would follow you.

Once you broke their gaze, they turned to each other, smirking. On the one hand, they knew they had an in. But they were challenging each other too, with a competitive spark in their eyes that said, "you wish."

They rushed over to the bar, practically skidding across the bar and even bumping into each other. They got there just seconds before you did, still catching their breaths by the time you got close enough. Before you could even open your mouth, both of them were panting. In unison, they spouted,

"Hey—"

"Hi."

"Can I buy you a drink?"

They glared at each other, and you laughed, shaking your head. They were practically brothers, the way they were so in sync with each other and seemed to bounce off of one another. It was fun analyzing their characters, and even more fun because they were trust fund babies without a care in the world, and you couldn't be any more different. But one thing was for certain — you could get anything from them.

"That's y'all's favorite question, isn't it?" you grinned up at them slowly, batting your lashes.

They both laughed weakly, not used to being called out so bluntly. They were so set on having you, but now that you were in front of them, it was clear you made the rules. The way you assessed them both silently, letting your eyes observe the both of them from head to toe, slowly but surely, they had no choice but to stand at your feet.

"How about this," you started, and they perked up like dogs, hanging on to your every word. "Whoever guesses my drink of choice can buy me a drink."

"Sex on the beach," Patrick blurted, mainly because he was thinking about sex.

"Vodka cran?" Art offered hesitantly.

You squint at them, shaking your head.

"Cognac, neat."

Patrick snorted, and you looked over at him with a curious grin. He explained himself,

"Sorry, it's just... that's dark liquor."

"Duh. I don't waste my money on watered down cocktails." A pause. "So...?"

They fought to get drinks, but ultimately, Art was the one who flagged the bartender down first. You told them that you should talk somewhere a bit more quiet, and led them to a couch beneath the stairs, where the music was slightly muffled. You knew that their eyes were on you as you were walking, you could tell by the way they went silent while behind you.

You sat between them on the couch, one leg over the other. Both their mouths went dry over the sight of your thigh pooling and expanding as you placed it on top of your other one. Your brown skin contrasted deliciously with the pink fabric of your dress.

You sipped your drink and leaned back just a bit against the couch. Basking in their intent eye contact.

"So," you smirked.

"So..." Patrick grinned at you, unafraid to show all his teeth.

You glance between the two of them,

"It's your first time here, isn't it?"

"Whaaat?" Patrick feigned offense, shaking his head and waving his hand. He sips his drink, leaning back just a bit to align his body more with yours. "Psshh, no, we come here all the time."

"Really?" you challenged him, and he just nodded silently with that fucking smirk on his face, his eyes boring into yours with an impish sparkle. "'Cuz I come here all the time, and I haven't seen you two before. Like, ever."

"Guess you weren't looking for us hard enough," in comes Art, quiet as ever but still so strikingly present — it's impossible to forget him, the way he sneaks up on you every time with some suggestive comment or smart remark.

You turned your head towards him now, your smile growing bigger by the minute, thoroughly enthralled by this delicious dialogue.

"Oh, I should be looking for you two?'' you raised your chin up, humored.

"Nah, but I mean... you might find something you like," Patrick replied, coolly as ever, never looking away from you even when you weren't looking at him. It was how you found yourself face to face with him when you turned your head away from Art.

"Yeah? And what's that?" you mastered your most innocent voice possible, rubbing your glossy lips together. Patrick's eyes lowered down to your lips, and he let them stay there for a while before he spoke again,

"You gonna let us find out what you like?"

No smirk this time, accompanied by unshaken eye contact. It got your heart jumping, but you played it cool, chuckling and sipping your drink,

"Y'all play too much."

"Who says we're playing?" Art interjected then, and you're met with a charming, slow-appearing smile.

“Messy. You usually have the same taste in girls?"

"I mean, yeah, we do," the boys glanced at each other and nodded good-naturedly as if assessing the question together before providing you with an answer. "But you're just... better," Art replied, and Patrick nodded.

"Better? Better how?"

"I mean... you're incredibly sexy," Patrick said as if it were self-explanatory.

"Yeah? Tell me more," you bared your teeth in a slick-mouthed smile, leaning your chin on your hand and blinking softly up at Patrick. You turned your head slowly when Art spoke.

"Your lips. They look soft," he licked his lips when you looked at him. It was like he was a completely different entity now, shrouded by the thick cloud of desire he had for you. His voice had dropped an octave lower and his lids seemed heavier. He took a sip of Cognac and leaned back just a tad.

"Got a pretty voice," you turned this time to Patrick, whose lips were turning up in a slow smile, his teeth glinting in the dark club.

"Beautiful eyes," now Art — you knew you had them right around your finger but they were proving to be more than you'd bargained for — you wondered how often they moved like this to a girl, together.

"Your body's absolutely insane," Patrick divulged.

"Personality takes the cake, too," Art chimes in.

By the time they'd finished, it felt like they were inches closer to you, encasing you in their body heat. And they had inched closer to you, the both of them cocking their head in your direction, studying your face. It all felt so practiced, yet natural. They knew just what they were doing, and that's why you didn't move a muscle. But you'd be lying if you said it didn't have an effect on you.

You didn't reply, you just sat back and slowly swallowed down the rest of your drink. All eyes were on you, the boys both leaning back against the couch and just admiring you. You set the glass down on the table in front of you and got up to stand, wiggling your dress down to readjust it.

"Let's dance."

That's how you found yourself sandwiched between Art and Patrick while a song by Miguel played. Your breaths, hot and smelling of liquor, floated against each other, bodies pressed into yours. Patrick was behind you with his hands on your waist, towering over you and looking down at you in awe. He kept it respectful, but you could feel him against your ass, poking through his ripped black jeans. Art was in front of you, your arms around his neck, just inches of space between all of you. The club was dark bar for a strobe light rotating across your faces periodically, so you could hardly see the desire in their eyes, but you could feel it. You swayed your hips to the rhythm of the song and let your head fall back against Patrick's shoulder, swaying your whole body now. Art was pressed into you, his face dipping into your neck. He nearly whimpered— you smelled like caramelized vanilla and a hint of coconut oil. He imagined you lathering your damp body in creams and oils after getting out of the shower, and had to fight an erection from forming directly against you. Meanwhile, Patrick was already half-hard.

All they felt was bliss — Patrick had more of a sense of certainty that the night would end up somewhat like this, but Art doubted they'd even be able to find you. You could sense the way they held back, waiting for you to shut it down or take it an inch further. You paused when you felt your cellphone vibrate in your purse. You pulled away gracefully from Art and Patrick, who stood there dumbly waiting for you to pull them back in. You grinned when you read the text from your friends, who knew of your whereabouts, telling you to pull up to Alicia's apartment for afters, and "bring your little white boys."

You let the boys usher you out of the club, Art with his hand on your waist trailing behind you, and Patrick taking your hand as he pushed through the crowd and out the door.

"You smell amazing," Art mentioned the minute the fresh air hit you, re-surging the scent that drove him near ballistic in the club.

You giggled at Art's sudden outburst, and the genuine admiration in his tone,

"Thank you, babe. Now, are y'all good to drive?"

| | |

Alicia's apartment was huge — her dad paid for everything, to say the least. The moment you walked in, Alicia, Nessa and Tiana crowded around you, squealing and ooh-ing and aah-ing over Patrick and Art.

"This your lil shit right here? Go head, then YN," Tiana stuck her tongue out raucously and you shook your head, laughing.

Before you knew it, you were pouring shots of Hennessy down each other's throats, playing a vicious game of Uno, and blasting Me & U by Cassie. Art and Patrick had some settling in to do at first, since they weren't used to being around mostly black girls — the most fun they knew how to have at parties was fist-bumping to dubstep. But they fit right in, and your friends had no trouble making them feel welcome. As the night went on, you lost some of that mysterious enigma, but it didn't make them want you any less.

Art nearly melted beneath you when you stood up above him and poured Ciroc down his throat, holding his chin up with your fresh French tips. Patrick was next, putting on a brave face, unwavering against the screeches and pointing from your friends. He made sure to keep eye contact with you, swallowing boisterously with an "ahh!" sound, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. You grinned and took a swig yourself, then ran to your friends to dance with them, swaying your hips and shaking your ass in a way they hadn't seen just yet. It was like they weren't even there, it was just about you and your friends now.

"Fuck, man," Patrick blinked slow, standing beside Art just feet away from you.

Art ran his hands through his hair, in disbelief at the way your ass moved in your dress,

"I'm gonna be honest, Pat. I don't think either of us could handle that."

For the first time, Patrick nodded, wordlessly agreeing.

It didn't take long for your friends to disperse about the apartment, most of them heading out to the balcony to smoke. You decided to stay behind inside ("For your guests, right?" Nessa had snickered, smirking over at Art and Patrick).

"Are you bored to death yet? You're the only two dudes here," you sauntered over to the two boys, who were leaning against the kitchen counter. All three of you were just a bit more than tipsy, eyes bleared over and heat fanned against your cheeks, drifting about in that pleasantly warm dreamscape.

"Bored? You just baby birded both of us with Ciroc," Art guffawed, and you cocked your head to the side, looking up at him with those low, drunk eyes,

"Yeah, you want more?"

"I want whatever you have to give me," Art replied with quickness, simply entranced by your eyes and that sweet voice. You chuckled, shaking your head.

A smattering of shrieking sounded from outside on the balcony. You scoffed, swiping a joint that Alicia had rolled from off the kitchen table. You started walking down the hall, back faced to them as you said,

"They're so loud. Let's go somewhere quieter."

Art and Patrick both gave each other a glance— they weren't sure if the night would ever actually come to this, but still they didn't quite know what to expect. All they knew was that whether or not either of them could "pull" you, you were the one in charge. Your hips swung more freely from side to side as you walked loosened by the Henny and Ciroc concoctions of the night. Art and Patrick's eyes were like pendulums following your hips.

You turned into the guest bedroom, plopping down onto the bed.

"Close the door," you gestured to Art. Heart pounding, he closed it behind him.

Art and Patrick stood stupidly in front of you. You shook your head at them, laughing quietly,

"Are y'all gonna sit?"

They might as well have tripped over themselves zooming to sit next to you on the bed, one on either side of you. You had the whole world in your hands. It was silent bar for the muffled R&B music from outside. For boys who were so flirtatious, they were awfully quiet now. You shifted to place your legs underneath you, sitting on your knees, your dress riding up your thighs just so. If they looked behind you, they'd see your ass poking out a bit too.

"So. Who's idea was it, hmm?" you hummed. "I mean, you must've wanted to come find me. I'm impressed."

You lit the joint, pressing it to your lips.

"Saw your Myspace post. Thought we'd keep you company," Patrick admitted, coolly as ever, though you saw the bulge forming in his jeans, saw the way his eyes drifted down to your lips around the joint.

You tossed your head back to exhale, giggling up at the ceiling and covering your mouth with your hand.

"You thought you'd keep me company. Y'all are too good."

You passed the joint over to Art, who took a drag and exhaled while keeping it perched in the corner of his mouth, voice half-muffled as he continued,

"We just wanted to make sure you weren't lonely, that's all."

"Yeah," Patrick took the joint from Art, doing the same. "Since you don't have a boyfriend or anything."

This time, Patrick lifted the joint up to your lips for you. You leaned into it, slowly wrapping your lips around it and sucking for just a second longer than you usually would, never breaking eye contact while Patrick's smirk grew wider and wider with each passing second. You blew the smoke out and it fanned against his face.

"And how would you two know if I don't have a boyfriend?"

Art sniffed, humored, as you passed the joint to him. It was starting to hit now — a haze rose up just so slightly in the air. You relaxed into it, feeling emboldened.

"Don't think we'd be here if you did," Art shot back.

You snaked forward, taking the joint from Art's lips and putting it to your own. He let out a sharp breath at the casual dominance such an action exuded. Your face was just inches away from his— you didn't know if it was the weed, or how turned on you were after exercising the utmost self-control for the better part of the night, but you noticed that his eyes had such a gleaming strike of blue in them.

"Think you got me, is that it?" you questioned, so close to Art that if you inched any further, your nose would brush against his. He swallowed, unsure of whether he should be turned on or scared, but either way, his pants were getting tighter. Your voice was so tantalizingly quiet as if you were sharing a secret just for him and Patrick. You huffed out a humored breath. "I'm not gonna fuck you, you know."

The way you were looking at him begged to differ. You felt the strap of your dress slide down ever so gently over your left shoulder. Before you could push it up, Patrick's hand, strong and firm, was grazing against your shoulder, pushing your dress strap up. You let your gaze on Art linger for just a moment longer before you turned to Patrick, smirking. You handed him the joint, which had gone out. He placed it on the bed beside him. You were leaning in, an unmistakably seductive twinkle in your eyes as you got even closer to Patrick, murmuring under your breath,

"'M not gonna fuck you either."

“Not gonna fuck me?” Patrick smirked, looking from your hazey eyes to your lips. You pressed your lips into his, letting your eyes flutter closed as you hummed your response into his mouth,

“Mm-mm.”

A slight breath escaped Patrick, keeping his mouth open so you could slip your tongue against his. Patrick kissed you hard and slow, his hands immediately wrapping around your back as you lifted your leg over his lap and straddled him. You could feel how much he’d been wanting this by the way his tongue curved effortlessly against yours and his grip on your hips got stronger. He kissed the way he talked. Rough and hard, but with effortless ease, like he knew exactly what you liked. Maybe it was his confidence that made the kiss so good, his lips locked in perfectly with yours. You reached behind, pulling Art in as you simultaneously pushed Patrick down so his back was against the mattress.

You pulled away from Patrick and in one fluid motion turned your head to kiss him, letting your hand wrap against his neck and run up through his hair. Patrick, who was watching from the pillow, groaned and let his head fall against the pillow. Art kissed you needily, but gentler than Patrick. He kissed you like he was parched and your lips were a fountain of water found in a barren land— like he needed to explore more. As you kissed Art, you felt Patrick’s hands kneading your ass, and you moaned — which made them both moan. It took everything in Patrick not to just lift your dress over your ass. But you must have been reading his mind because you wiggled your dress over your ass so it was finally exposed.

“That’s it,” Patrick groaned in approval, his hands finding new purchase against your bare skin, squeezing your ass with a tender grip.

Your kiss with Art grew sloppier, spit threatening to spill out from the side of your mouth as Art pressed himself against you. You let your hand wander down to his black jeans and gripped the hard bulge that was poking out, running your hand up and down it. Patrick, not one to be left behind, took the liberty of lifting your dress a little higher so he could see the black, lacy panties you wore. He let out a low whistle, his firm on your hips grew firmer, keeping them in place as he ground his up into you, rolling up directly against your clit through your underwear. You gasped when you felt how big Patrick was, pulling away from Art to look down at the sight of Patrick’s hips snapping slowly into you.

“Fuck,” you moaned, tilting your head gently to the side so Art could press his lips against your neck.

Patrick chuckled, but he was unable to hold back the groan that lodged in his throat. He could feel your clit pulsing through your underwear.

“Take it off, baby,” you gestured down to Art, who scrambled to take your dress off, throwing it carelessly to the side once it was over your head. Both the boys nearly busted on the spot, because instead of being greeted with a black, lacy bra, your tits simply tumbled out of your dress, perfectly plump and brown and sitting pretty.

“Oh my god,” Patrick groaned at the sight of your tits above him. He sat up immediately, attaching his mouth immediately to your tits. Art, a whimpering mess by this point, followed quickly, his lips wrapping around your stiff, brown nipple. They both sucked on your tits lasciviously, reserving one for each of them. The lewd sounds of their tongues sucking your plush skin as their hands fondled and squeezed you filled the room. Art was gentle, shifting from reaching a hand underneath your tit and cupping you softly to circling a gentle finger around your nipple. Patrick was more direct, grabbing you with closed hands.

If you weren’t so turned on, you would honestly giggle at the sight— these two boys who’d been fiending for you for so long, showing you just how long they’d been waiting for this very thing. It was a wonder — the school’s prestigious tennis players who attended every frat party and had enough money to be set for life (Patrick at least), reduced to a melting puddle beneath you. At your beck and call, your mercy, even as the grind of Patrick’s dick against your clit made you soak through the panties.

You looked down at them with a cunning smile playing on your lips, cupping both their chins softly,

“You’ve been wanting this real bad, haven’t you?”

Two pairs of needy, blissed-out eyes looked up at you immediately, their heads nodding insistently as they moaned around your nipples. You chuckled, your laugh ringing like bells in their ears. You tasted so divine and they hadn’t even tasted you where it really counts. Art decides he wants to get a head start. You felt his hand, his fingers long and spindly, travel down your body, past your soft stomach and down your thigh, until it looped back up to the waistband of your panties. He toyed with the waistband of your panties, pulling at the stretchy fabric until he let it snap against your waist.

He pulled away, his lips warm and wet against your ear as he whispered,

“Can I?”

You bit down on your lip and nodded, gazing at him as he let his hand travel back down until it crept into your panties, never breaking eye contact even as he dipped two fingers against your soaked slit. You trembled at his touch and he smirked, cocking his head gently as he brought his fingers to his lips, tasting you on his fingers.

“She tastes so good, Pat, you gotta try,” Art said, leaning down — Patrick, dazed, lifted his head and looked up at Art with glazed-over eyes.

You watched, rendered speechless for the first time that night as Art dipped his fingers back just slightly against you again, and placed them at Patrick’s wanting lips. Patrick sucked the taste of you off Art’s fingers like it was nothing, like he’d done it before and would do it a thousand times more. The sight of him, lifting his head up to meet Art’s fingers, made you stir above him.

“Fuck, she’s perfect,” Patrick practically moaned, his lips hovering at Art’s fingers. He wasn’t even looking at you, still holding Art’s gaze as he dipped his hand into your panties and prodded at your slit, the pad of his finger tapping against all the arousal that’s gathered there, making wet sounds like fat raindrops collecting in a puddle. “She’s so wet already, shit.” He held Art’s gaze for a moment longer before he turned to you.

“Can we taste you?” Art asked, his voice soft and lilted.

You lifted yourself off of Patrick’s lap and kneeled between the two of them, taking their shirts off one by one. Art went to take off his cap, You embraced Art in a kiss first, then Patrick, until it was lost on you which was which— it was all a blur, mouths sloppily entangled and meeting in the middle, kissing each other all at once and you were certain Art and Patrick’s lips met more than a few times. Somewhere in the middle, they had pushed you back against the mattress. You whined as their lips suctioned against your body, down down down until they stopped between your thighs.

You couldn’t see whose lips were on you first, but you were sure it was Patrick, the way he dove right in without hesitation and started sucking expertly at your clit. You cried out, your back arching slightly off the bed at the sudden jolt of pleasure from the contact. You saw Patrick’s tuft of black curls right in between your thighs, and Art’s golden-orange locks just beside him, placing chaste kisses on your inner thighs, his hand massaging the plush skin there too.

Patrick moaned from in between your legs, sending vibrations through your core and up your chest. You relaxed into his touch, pushing his head in and burying your fingers in his curls. He made sure to drag his tongue along every inch of you, pointing it into your slit and thrusting it into you, and flattening his whole tongue against you as he gave kitten licks to your pussy.

His grecian nose poked deliciously against your clit and he used it to his advantage, bobbing his head up and down each time you moaned at the point of contact. He sucked your clit gently with his lips, toyed at your slit with his finger and glanced up at you to gauge your reaction. The moan that fell from your lips as you locked eyes with him from between your legs was almost pornographic, and enough for him to slide one thick finger inside of you.

You were writhing above him and Art, moaning ever so softly. Your tits were splayed perfectly against your chest and your face was constantly contorted in the sweetest expressions. They’d both imagined you like this, mouth open and eyes rolling back into your head, trapped in bliss. Then another finger, fucking into you deep and slow as he continued lapping up all your arousal, all while Art kissed your thighs with increasing hunger, his once soft kisses becoming wet and crazed.

“Fuck,” Patrick pulled away, his mouth and chin glistening wet with spit and your arousal. “Art, taste her pussy. Want you to feel what I did to her.”

Art whimpered and assumed position immediately.

“Wait,” you said, shifting and turning yourself around so you were on your knees, your pussy pulsing right in front of Art’s face while Patrick pulled down his shorts and boxers, wrapping a hand around his shaft and starting to tug slowly, groaning under his breath. Meanwhile, Art’s eyebrows rose up so far he thought they’d get stuck there, his mouth dropping slightly at the sight of your pussy throbbing around nothing, your folds dripping with a mixture of your own arousal and Patrick’s spit.

You placed your head on the pillow, craning your neck to look back at the two boys. You liked the juxtaposition that was happening — the two of them in full control of your pleasure, while you were granting them the only thing they’d been thinking of for weeks now.

“Oh fuck,” Art whispered to himself, and Patrick chuckled darkly, squeezing the base of his cock.

You wouldn’t admit it, but their faces in this moment were seared in your mind permanently – Art’s gaze of pure amazement, and Patrick’s wicked smirk snaking across his entire face, glaring down at your pussy. It was enough to make a shiver run down your spine, how readily they consumed you — the feeling of being wanted wasn’t new to you, but with them, it was just… different.

“Her pussy looks so pretty after it’s been ate, doesn’t it?” Patrick noted to Art, who nodded with a broken whimper before shoving his face into your pussy, his button nose dancing against your clit as he put his tongue to work.

“Fuck,” you moaned, your head dropping down against the pillow. Art might have been gentler, but that did not mean worse by any means.

If anything, he was passionate, noting every slight movement and sound you made and following in your stead. His tongue lappd against your clit, pleasure climbing up your spine. The new angle had you struggling to keep your legs up, but Patrick was sure to keep you in check.

“This is what you wanted right?” he proclaimed, one hand on your thigh to hold you steady, the other still stroking his cock, a bit faster now. A guttural moan surged from your throat as you nodded weakly. “Yeah? So take it. Take Art’s tongue in your pussy, fuck.”

Patrick looked down, his mouth hanging open as he watched the way Art slurped away. He detached his lips only to slide a finger in, kissing you gently as he fucked his finger into you, slow and deep and relishing the way you stretched over his finger.

“So fucking warm,” he muttered, talking to your pussy like you and him were the only two in the room. He slipped another finger inside you, which made you cry out, pussy throbbing around his fingers. “There you go, squeeze my fingers.”

“Mm-hmm,” you hummed, delirious. Art was rutting against the bed now, chasing his high along with you, and Patrick’s hand was working overtime on his cock, spreaidng the precum leaking from his tip along the shaft. His hand reached up to smack your ass, groaning at the way it reveberated beneath his touch.

“You’re so fucking hot, oh my god.”

Inadvertently, you started to catch the rhythm of Art’s fingers, throwing your hips back against his fingers and his face. The sight of your ass practically covering Art’s face was almost too much for Patrick to handle — he actually glanced away for a second, hoping he could hold off on his swift-approaching orgasm.

“Yeah, fuck back onto my face, I want you to use me,” Art moaned, muffled by your thighs wrapped around his head.

You weren’t sure when it all happened, you just knew that you were moaning both their names as you’re sent over the edge, Patrick and Art deftly following — Patrick in his hands, Art in his jeans, hips stuttering against the bed. You squeezed around Art's fingers as you dripped down onto the bed, soaking Art's tongue and chin. It took a while for all of you to gain some semblance of reality, pushing past the haze of pleasure and smoke and bitter alcohol that you were floating in.

“Did you come in your jeans?” Patrick’s voice cut through the foggy silence, and Art slapped his chest.

“Shut up, look what you did to the sheets.”

You were lying on your back, gazing up at the two boys with a sated grin, resting your hands on your stomach.

“Aren’t you glad we found you?” Patrick teased.

You didn’t have to answer, he already knew.

i think i’m gonna have a part two for this you guys have no idea how much i was debating whether or not they should fuck in this but i feel like reader is the type to make them wait… plus it would've actually been a novel if i added that and i wanted to get this out cuz i don't wanna keep y'all waiting!! so when they fuck they'll fuck NYASTY.

#challengers #x black reader #x reader #challengers fic #challengers smut #patrick zweig #patrick zweig x black reader #patrick zweig smut #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x black reader #art donaldson #artick #artrick x reader #artrick x black reader #art donaldson smut

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stvrlightgirl · 5 months ago

Text

✧˖°. So caught up in you ✧˖°.

part three

part two ←

summary: Finally, the long-awaited date with Remus had arrived, and it turn out perfect.

pairing: primary school teacher!remus lupin x single mom f!reader

warnings: just a lot of flufff

wc: 2,6k

a/n: I’m so proud of this chapter, because I was feeling like my writers block was kicking me again tbh, so I hope you will like it, enjoy!

The Friday afternoon sun dipped slightly over the horizon, casting a golden hue on everything it touched. The warmth of the light filtered through the airy curtains of your living room, setting a serene ambiance that contrasted with the nervous flutters in your stomach. As you pulled on your favorite pair of jeans, memories from earlier in the week flashed through your mind. Molly had been thrilled with her school project, a heartfelt painting, and how Remus had been encouraging and excited as she was.

You fiddled with the hem of your shirt, taking a deep breath. It's just coffee, you reminded yourself. But the voice inside you, the one protective of Molly, wary of opening up to anyone again, whispered, that it’s more than that.

Seven years. Seven years since the man you'd trusted shattered your heart and left you alone to pick up the pieces, forcing you to build walls around your heart. Since then, Molly had been your universe, your prime focus. Dates seemed like a distant memory, almost another lifetime's activities, until a certain teacher of your daughter changed it all.

His casual yet earnest invitation had awoken emotions you'd buried deep, kindling both excitement and anxiety. You glanced at the clock – fifteen more minutes. Better get moving.

The café Remus mentioned was quaint and charming, with an old-world vibe. Fairy lights hung from its wooden beams, casting a soft glow, creating an intimate setting. As you pushed through the door, a gentle bell tinkled above you, and the familiar rich aroma of coffee beans wrapped around you like a warm embrace. The ambiance was cozy, with clusters of small tables and plush chairs arranged to encourage quiet conversation.

You spotted Remus almost immediately. He was seated at a corner table, his back straight, glancing through the window with a thoughtful gaze. Today, he wore a simple yet well-fitted navy shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing the same watch you noticed in his classroom. His hair, as winter-brown as autumn leaves, framed his face in soft waves. When his eyes found yours, a warm smile spread across his features, and he stood up to greet you.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice like a balm to your jittery nerves. “I’m so glad you came.”

“Hi, Remus,” you replied, returning his smile with a slightly shaky one of your own. His genuine warmth made you feel more at ease. He pulled out your chair for you, a gesture that seemed both old-fashioned and remarkably sweet, but it made you blush, of course.

As you settled in, a waitress approached with menus, and you both ordered coffee. You opted for a lavender cappuccino, while Remus went for an americano. The initial awkwardness of meeting someone new began to melt away as the conversation started flowing.

“So, how has your week been?” Remus asked, his eyes sincere and attentive.

You sighed lightly, thinking of the everyday hustle and bustle that defined your life. “Busy, as usual. Work, school runs, helping Molly with her homework. It’s never a dull moment,” you said with a soft chuckle. “How about you? I already know that teaching a bunch of energetic kids must be quite the challenge.” The corners of your mouth turned up, as you gave him a small smile.

Remus laughed, a rich, warm sound that made you feel more at ease. “Oh, definitely. But I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Every day is different, and the kids have such unique personalities. Plus, they keep me on my toes, so I’m definitely not bored.” He chuckled, and you noticed that his eyes wrinkled.

It was cute.

The waitress returned with your coffees, and you both took a moment to savor the first sips. The rich, velvety taste of the cappuccino was exactly what you needed to calm your nerves.

“So, Molly seems really happy in your class. She talks about you quite a bit,” you said, breaking the silence.

“Does she now?” Remus replied, his eyes lighting up with genuine interest. “She’s a wonderful kid. Very bright and kind-hearted, it’s good that she talks a lot too. You’ve done an amazing job raising her.” He took a small sip of his hot coffee while not taking his eyes off of yours.

A surge of warmth spread through you at his compliment. “Thank you. She’s my world. I want to be the best for her.” Your shy smile filled his stomach with butterflies.

The conversation flowed easily after that, touching on various topics. Remus shared amusing stories about his childhood, growing up with a love for books and nature, and how he eventually found his calling in teaching. You found yourself drawn to his passion and sincerity. He, in turn, seemed genuinely interested in your life, asking questions about your work and about your experiences raising Molly. The more you talked, the more relaxed and connected you felt. It was as if all the years of guarding your heart had melted away in the presence of this kind, thoughtful man he was.

“And what about hobbies?” Remus asked, leaning forward a bit. “Do you have any time for yourself with such a busy schedule?” He gave you a smirk.

You laughed softly, a sound that came easier now. “Not as much as I’d like, but I try to carve out some time. I love reading, mostly when Molly’s asleep. And I enjoy baking. It’s therapeutic.”

“Oh, baking!” Remus exclaimed with genuine enthusiasm. “What’s your specialty?”

“Cookies, mostly. Molly loves helping me, and it’s always fun for her. Plus, they make the house smell amazing,” you replied, a hint of pride in your voice.

“I’d love to try them sometime,” Remus said, his eyes twinkling with interest. “I have a bit of a sweet tooth.”

“Well, if you play your cards right,” you said with a playful smile, “I might just bring you a batch.”

The light-hearted banter continued, and you began to feel something you hadn’t felt in a long time—hope. Remus wasn’t just a charming man; he was genuinely considerate, compassionate, and someone who seemed to understand the complexities of your life without you having to explain every detail.

As the conversation naturally ebbed and flowed, you found yourself sharing stories and laughter more freely, almost forgetting the initial nervousness that had gripped you at the start. There was a connection growing, a gentle intertwining of shared experiences and mutual respect.

At one point, the topic shifted to music, and Remus's eyes lit up as he talked about his love for old records and vinyl collections. “There’s something about the sound quality of a record,” he said, his hands animated as he spoke, “It's like it captures the soul of the music.”

You nodded, feeling a similar passion. “I completely agree. My dad used to have a huge collection. We spent many Sundays together, listening to everything from classic rock to jazz. Those are some of my favorite memories.” You smiled at the memory of your dad playing his favourite records after work.

Remus leaned back, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “We should have a listening session sometime. I have a small collection myself. Maybe we can trade favorites?”

The idea filled you with warmth. Spending more time in Remus’s company felt like peeling away layers of guardedness you’d wrapped yourself in for so long. “That sounds wonderful,” you replied. “I’d like that a lot.” You chuckled.

As the hours passed, the café began to fill up with the evening crowd, but it felt like you and Remus were in your own little world. Eventually, you noticed the time and realized how late it had gotten. Neither of you wanted the night to end, but you knew you had responsibilities waiting at home.

“I should probably get going.” said reluctantly, glancing at your watch. “My friend stayed with Molly, and the time flowed so quickly.” You looked out the window, and the sun was already setting.

Remus’s expression softened with understanding, though there was a glint of disappointment in his eyes. “Of course. I didn’t noticed too, to be honest.” He quickly gathered up your things and payed the waitress, both of you standing up from the table. As you gathered your things, Remus walked with you to the door, holding it open for you like a perfect gentleman. The sun had set by now, and the evening air was crisp and cool. Streetlights cast a warm glow on the cobblestone paths as you stepped outside.

You reached for your coat, pulling it tighter around your frame as a gentle breeze blew. The evening air was cool and crisp, the gentle whisper of the wind cutting through the night. The streetlights on either side of the cobblestone path cast warm, gold-hued light.

“Do you mind if I walk you home?” Remus stopped you by gently tugging your arm, a hopeful note in his voice. “I’d like to make sure you get there safely.”

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you considered his words. The thought of spending more time with him appealed to you, and you were touched by his concern for your safety. After a brief pause, you responded, "Yeah, sure. If you’d like me to." It was something you weren’t accustomed to experiencing.

Remus and you continued your walk through the peaceful streets as night fully set in. Darkness enveloped you both, but he’s company provided an unexpected comfort, his low voice and soft laughs acting like a soothing balm, diminishing any lingering worry. As you strolled together, your hands hovered close to each other, occasionally brushing against one another, creating a silent connection between you two.

“I had a really great time tonight,” Remus said, glancing sideways at you. “It’s been a while since I’ve done something like this.” He confessed

“What, going on a date? ,” you admitted, your cheeks flushing slightly. The thought of him enjoying your company warmed you from the inside out. “ I haven’t done something like this in years, to be honest. Not sure you’d beat me.” You joked.

Remus looked down at you, a small smile on his lips. "Come on, that's not true," he said, his voice soft and low. "You're way too gorgeous to be on your own all the time.” His words came out in a whisper, a gentle declaration that held a hint of a hidden confession.

A hot flush crawled up your face as he spoke, you found yourself unable to control the smile that spread across your lips. Hoping he wouldn't notice your reaction, you quickly turned your head away, averting your gaze to hide your delighted expression.

Your heart fluttered as he nudged gently into your side, coaxing you to look at him. As soon as you raised your gaze to meet his, you noticed something different in his eyes. There was an undertone in his expression, something that revealed more than just friendly interest.

Remus leaned in closer, his voice a soft whisper, meant for your ears only. He looked at you with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine as he spoke, his words low and serious. "I mean it," he said, his voice barely above a murmur. "You really are beautiful, Y/N. You're incredible."

The conversation drifted into comfortable silence as you strolled, each step bringing you closer to your home and to a moment that both of you felt was inevitable. Remus’s mind whirled with thoughts and emotions. He had been drawn to you the moment he first saw you, but now, having shared this evening with you, he realized it was more than a fleeting attraction. There was something genuine between you two, something worth exploring.

As you approached your house, you could feel a mixture of warmth and nervous energy building up. When you finally reached your front door, you turned to face Remus, the porch light casting a soft glow over you both.

“Thank you for tonight, Remus,” you said, feeling shy but happy. “I had a really good time.”

“Me too.” he replied, taking a small step closer. The space between you seemed to shrink, and he could feel his heart pounding in his chest. “I—well, I wanted to say something…”

You looked up at him, your eyes wide and curious. The moment felt charged, as though the world had paused around you, leaving just the two of you in this bubble of anticipation.

Remus cleared his throat, his nerves getting the better of him for a brief moment. “I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you, Y/N, and I hope we can do this again sometime.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and a shy smile tugged at the corners of your lips. “I’d like that very much, Remus.”

He took a deep breath, feeling a surge of courage. This was the moment he had been wanting all evening. As he stepped closer, his hand reached up gently to brush a stray lock of hair away from your face. The touch was tender, sending a shiver through you.

“Y/N, can I…” he trailed off, not quite finishing his sentence, his eyes locking with yours, full of unspoken questions and palpable sincerity.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you nodded slightly, giving him permission without words. Remus leaned in slowly, his hesitation clear as he tried to gauge your comfort. But instead of kissing your lips, which he so desperately wanted to do, he decided to start with something softer, something gentle.

His lips brushed against your cheek, a feather-light touch that held all the sweetness and warmth he felt. The kiss was brief but meaningful, lingering in its own delicate way. When he pulled back, you saw that his cheeks were tinged with a faint blush, his eyes searching yours, hoping for a positive reaction.

You felt a warmth spread through you and your heartbeat quickened. That simple, tender kiss had somehow meant so much more. You shyly averted your gaze for a moment, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “Thank you, again, it was the best night I’ve had in a while” you whispered, your voice filled with genuine appreciation and a hint of bashfulness. “And that was really sweet of you.” You glanced at your boots.

There was a visible tension in Remus’s body before he let out a long breath, his relief showing in the wide smile on his lips. "I wouldn’t have had it any other way, dove.” he confessed, a warm, affectionate smile lighting up his features, but the nickname that rolled off his tongue, stirred something inside you. It was a feeling you thought you hadn't experienced for the longest time. His voice, his presence, and the way he said it sent a shiver down your spine, causing your knees to almost give out beneath you.

You stood there for another moment, neither wanting to break the spell of the evening. Finally, you took a small step back towards your door. “I should get inside. Molly’s probably waiting for me.”

Remus nodded, though he looked reluctant to see you go. “Of course. Have a good night, you two. And thank you for tonight, it was wonderful to get to know you.”

You returned his smile, warmth and contentment spreading through you as you unlocked your door. “Good night, Remus. Take care.”

With that, you stepped inside, closing the door gently behind you. The house was quiet save for the soft sounds of the night outside. As you leaned against the door for a moment, replaying the evening in your mind, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of emotion. The walls you had carefully built around your heart felt just a little less imposing tonight.

You sighed contently, then moved towards Molly’s room to check on her. Finding her sound asleep, curled up with her favorite stuffed animal, brought a smile to your face. You gently stroked her hair, planting a soft kiss on her forehead. The peace you felt in that moment was something you hadn’t experienced in a long time.

part four