#appealing to him under the circumstance i discussed | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

another-lost-mc · 1 year

Text

"Circumstances have forced me to accept a wager that I want no part of. It’s against the owner of The Fall. If he wins, we have to let him stay at the House of Lamentation for a month." – Lucifer (A Roll of the Dice Devilgram) Or, the AU where Lucifer loses a bet and a new resident comes to stay at the House of Lamentation.

Good Fortune | AZRA x gn!Reader 5.7k words | SFW | Canon Divergence | Developing Relationship Content warnings: Demon OC x Reader. Cursing, references to violence/illegal activities, minor threats, awkward flirting and fluff, gossiping, social anxiety. A/N: The Fall and its owner are referenced in a lot of OM events/Devilgram stories so I got a little creative with the details.

The owner of The Fall, the Devildom’s most popular club, is a powerful demon that represents the best and worst parts of upper class Devildom society. Under the Demon King’s rule, Azra used threats and violence to secure his position and achieve his ambitions. Falling into line with Diavolo’s new vision for the Devildom simply means his methods of dealing with nuisances are less deadly - and he’s more cautious if he does have to resort to bloodshed.

When he visits Devildom’s other prominent establishments, it’s about business as much as it is about pleasure. He spends money and builds connections with other influential business owners, offering gifts or gestures of goodwill to demons of strategic value so he can call on them later to return the favour.

He’s at the casino one evening and feels especially bored, but Azra spots the Avatar of Greed playing dice at a table nearby. Usually he’s content to simply watch the money-hungry demon, who gambles like it's his last night in hell; his large bets and fast plays are a spectacle to behold whether he wins or loses. Azra approaches Mammon’s table, and when he sees the pile of chips dwindle to nothing, he decides to have a bit of fun.

Mammon is known for making ludicrous bets when he’s out of grimm, but offering a month-long overnight stay at the House of Lamentation is too intriguing for Azra to pass up. A chance to live with the Avatars of Sin is a rare opportunity. Some of them are frequent guests at his club for special events. However, most of the Devildom only know the brothers on a superficial basis; Lucifer is protective of his siblings and he tries to shelter their personal lives from public view.

Azra accepts Mammon’s wager and he agrees to postpone their bet until another day. When he recognizes Lucifer as one of the dealers at the casino a few days later, he decides to call in Mammon’s wager. Azra watches the dice in anticipation and then he smirks, unfazed by the poorly-masked anger that ripples across Lucifer’s expression when he loses.

Once the details of the arrangement are finalized, Azra arrives at the House of Lamentation with his luggage in tow. Lucifer shows him the choice of rooms available and Azra complains about each one; they’re all grungy from years of disuse and neglect. He hoped the brothers would have at least tried to take care of some of the dust and cobwebs first. Azra almost wonders if it was an intentional oversight when Lucifer reminds him - more than once - that if the rooms aren’t to his liking, he’s welcome to leave.

They walk down the hallway, past the kitchen and towards your room. You’re not inside but the door is open, and it catches Azra’s interest. He notices the care that’s gone into the furnishings and upkeep - and the lack of dust is appealing, too. This is the best room he’s seen by far and declares to Lucifer that this room will suit his purposes, ignoring its obvious state of occupancy.

Lucifer rejects the idea immediately and they start arguing. He refuses to displace you from your room, and Azra insists that Lucifer and his brothers should’ve thought of that before he arrived. Neither of them notice that you’re walking towards them and catch the tail-end of their heated discussion about your room being off-limits.

You don’t understand Lucifer’s hostility towards their guest. Your presence in the Devildom is still relatively new, and you don’t have many friends. You don’t want to impose on the demon brothers who have tried to help you adjust to your new life here. The last thing you want to do is make a bad first impression to other important or powerful demons in the Devildom. Besides, it’s only for a month, right?

You startle them both when you offer to switch rooms temporarily, if that would make their guest more comfortable. They stop arguing and look at you in surprise. Lucifer’s mouth twists like he’s bitten into something particularly sour, while Azra tilts his head slightly and stares at you in wonder. He forgot that living with the Avatars of Sin also means living with the Devildom’s prized human exchange student. He’s overheard other demons whisper about your lustrous, tempting soul in the dark corners of his club.

Azra changes his mind suddenly and tells a very relieved Lucifer that he won’t make his gracious co-host abandon your room to him. He smirks and takes his luggage to the closest empty guest room - across the hall from yours - instead. Dealing with the cobwebs is worth the satisfaction of seeing Lucifer’s brow crinkle in frustration before he slams the door shut in his face. Azra sets his luggage aside and takes care of the dust himself while he listens to Lucifer and his brothers arguing down the hall. He rolls his eyes when Mammon’s protests grow louder and Satan’s threats toward him become more violent.

Lucifer tries and fails to reassure them that Azra isn’t completely foolish, and even he won’t risk doing anything to harm you. You’re a guest to the Devildom under Diavolo’s protection, after all. But your soul isn’t all the demon brothers are worried about. Who knows what a scumbag demon like him might do if he had the chance to corner you alone? For all the shady, horrible things the club owner has done in the past, Lucifer doesn’t think Azra is that sort of demon to hurt you. However, he keeps those thoughts to himself - his brothers won’t be convinced otherwise.

The arguing down the hall eventually fades to silence, but Azra’s smirk remains as he continues clearing away the thick layers of dust covering the furniture in his room. The air is stale and musty and he coughs. He rips the dingy bedding away from the mattress and tosses it aside for the trash; he’s grateful he brought a new set of sheets.

When the room is slightly more hospitable, he taps the screen of his D.D.D. and sets it on speaker mode. He only has to wait a few rings before his assistant picks up the call.

“How are Lucifer and his brothers treating you?” Zekhan asks. “I told you not to expect a warm welcome.”

Azra hums. “It was what I expected, but I can deal with them,” he says casually, flicking away cobwebs stuck to the headboard of his bed. “I forgot about the human staying here, but they’re not–” Azra starts to say, but he frowns when Zekhan has the nerve to laugh, “–what the hell is so funny?”

Zekhan doesn’t bother to hide his amusement. “You never mentioned them once while we prepared for you to spend the month there. I wondered when you would remember that little detail.” His laughter trails off with a sigh. “What do you think of them so far?”

Azra thinks back to his brief meeting with you in the hallway. “I’m not sure yet.” You were so eager to compromise for his benefit, but he can’t completely dismiss you as being a total pushover either - you wouldn’t have survived this long in the Devildom if you were.

“I have a docket prepared with the information you requested, but most of it is public knowledge already - articles about the exchange program in the RAD newspaper, that sort of thing. I was able to speak to some of the students and get their first impressions too.” Zekhan pauses briefly and adds quietly, “Their confidential information is going to be more difficult to obtain, and it’ll take some time. Do you still want me to pursue it?”

Azra debated it for a moment and decided it wasn’t worth it. Your human world history and details won’t be relevant to him now, he can simply talk to you instead. “No, don’t bother. Keep track of anything else you hear, and send me what you have already, will you?”

“Very well,” his assistant replied before hanging up the call.

Azra’s D.D.D. pinged moments later with an email containing the information about you Zekhan was able to collect. There wasn’t much there - some general information about you and the other exchange students, impressions from some of the RAD faculty and classmates - nothing valuable or noteworthy. If he wants to learn more about you, the real you, he’ll have to figure that out himself - after he finishes cleaning his room.

Azra is nearly giddy with amusement when the brothers don’t attempt to hide their contempt for his presence in their home. They’re so protective of you and they do a poor job of hiding it. They find countless excuses to invite you to spend time with them anywhere else that’s not your room. When you don’t feel like going with them, they hover around your room instead. They have a bad habit of overstaying their welcome and Azra stifles his laughter when he hears you yell at them to get out so you can do your homework or go to sleep.

The demon brothers are especially bothered by how close his room is to your own. What exactly do they think he’s going to do to you? He’s not stupid. He might be a little curious about you, sure, but since when was curiosity such a bad thing?

In reality, Azra doesn’t have that many opportunities to spend time with you alone or with the other demons hovering like mother hens nearby. His odd work hours means he usually sleeps through breakfast and lunch, and he gets up and prepares to leave for work by the time you return home from RAD.

He’s not used to having a bedroom without an ensuite bath, and it’s one of his main complaints when he has to use the washroom at the end of the hall to shower. He enjoys his privacy and he’s not used to covering up.

One afternoon after having a shower, he's still dripping wet with only a towel hung low around his hips when he heads back to his room. He snarls with annoyance when someone bumps into him, but he realizes that someone is you. You stare at him for a moment, and your eyes widen when you glance down at his bare chest before your eyes snap up to his face. You stammer an apology as your cheeks flush, and by the time you rush back into your room and slam the door, Azra can’t stop the grin that spreads across his face.

Interesting.

It’s a rare occasion when Azra bothers to join you or the demon brothers for dinner. It got tiresome quickly when Satan insisted on reading books of hexes and curses at the table while glancing at him threateningly whenever he turned the page.

How juvenile.

Lucifer doesn’t trust Azra to cook for them - not that Azra is capable of making edible food anyway - so he’s not included in their cooking rotation either. Azra notices that you volunteer to cook more often than the others do. He assumes it’s something you like doing, and since it’s one of the few skills he lacks, he respects you for it.

If you’re on cooking duty for the family, he leaves later for the club than usual so he can spend time with you in the kitchen. Sometimes you’re completely alone with only Beelzebub occasionally trying to sneak snacks before dinner is ready. Azra makes vague offers to help you, but he’s only interested in the opportunity to talk to you. You must sense his apprehension about actually cooking something and you don’t ask him to help, but you try to have friendly conversations with him anyway.

He’s surprised that you use an odd combination of Devildom and human world ingredients, and you’ve customized recipes slightly to make them more palatable for you. It’s an easy way for him to discreetly ask you questions about yourself, and your family and where you come from. You seem happy talking about food and other things that remind you of home.

He’s not used to eating rustic, home-cooked meals. He eats what the chefs at the club prepare for him, or whatever his private chef makes for him at home on his days off. But when you hold out a spoonful of something to try, it’s difficult for him to refuse. The foods you cook aren't heavily spiced, but more often than not, he likes what you cook.

Sometimes he wonders whether you’d like the chance to cook in his kitchen, with his state of the art appliances and using whatever Devildom or human world ingredients you could ever want.

Sentimental thoughts about you start to creep into his mind, and they grow more frequent as he gets to know you. After nearly two weeks of living together, he decides that you’re a baffling combination of shy deference and impulsive confidence. Your dry, witty sense of humor surprises him at times, and you’re brave enough to speak up when the demon brothers cause trouble or make fools of themselves. You don’t go out of your way to spend time with him, probably out of some misconception that you're a nuisance to him (which you aren't). But when he seeks you out - usually before he goes to The Fall - you don’t reject him, either.

The whole point of his wager with Mammon was to learn more about the demon princes that might be useful for blackmail later. Hell, the thought of tormenting Lucifer was almost enough of a reward by itself. Azra refuses to admit that spending time with you is slowly becoming his prize in this arrangement.

When he comes home from the club, it’s usually around the same time you’re getting ready for school. Some mornings you offer him a bashful greeting when you step out of your room in your RAD uniform. He catches a whiff of whatever fragrance you wear, and he breathes in your scent as he watches disappear down the hall. There are some mornings when you’re running late - usually one of the brothers knocks on your door, and Azra catches a brief glimpse of your sleepy eyes and messy hair when you answer in a panic.

He loosens his tie and sits on the edge of his bed and listens for the telltale sounds of you and the demon brothers leaving for RAD. When the front door slams shut, he can finally be alone with his thoughts. More often than not these days, he thinks of you more than anything else. It doesn’t matter what you look like each morning when he passes by your room: whether you’re perfectly dressed or sleepy and rushed, he finds you charming - and he wonders how that’s possible.

There's about ten days left of his month-long visit when Azra prepares to go to the club, but he recalls the demon princes announcing various commitments they have that evening. It’s the first time since he arrived at the House of Lamentation that he is truly alone with you for any significant length of time. He thinks quickly and reaches for his D.D.D. - he might not get this chance again.

Meanwhile, you’re in your room debating whether you should start making dinner for yourself. The brothers are scattered across RAD and you have no idea what time to expect them home. It’s an annoying predicament when you’re not sure whether to cook food for everyone, or just cook for yourself, or maybe you should just order takeout?

Azra knocks on your bedroom door while you deliberate your options, and even though you’re surprised he hasn't left for work yet, you let him inside.

He makes small talk and takes his time browsing the shelves of your room. He notices an interesting mix of Devildom and human world books and movies. He glances at you from the corner of his eye when he feels your eyes on him.

“The demon princes don’t take care of you properly. It’s past dinner time - do they expect you to feed them all when they return?” he asks. He knows it’s not your turn to cook tonight, and he wonders how often they overlook your well-being. Do they make it a habit to inconvenience you with their thoughtlessness? Isn’t that what all of their posturing these past two weeks has been about - doing what they thought was best for their precious human?

He can do better.

He pretends to consider all the options for a moment and then asks, “You haven’t been to The Fall before, have you?”

“No, I’m not really the club-going type. I wasn’t back home, either.” You’ve seen Asmo’s photos of wild dance parties at The Fall; the self-conscious voice in the back of your mind reminds you that you look nothing like any of the demons that attend the famous establishment. You’d stick out like a sore thumb, and you have no interest in making a fool of yourself trying to pretend you belong there.

Azra isn’t easily deterred so he tries to entice you another way. “You might not realize this, but we also have an excellent dining room,” he says. “I would love to treat you to dinner this evening, as a gesture of appreciation for your kindness during my stay here,” he offers. “I can’t leave you alone and unfed in good conscience.”

You're tempted by his generous offer - you imagine their menu is far outside of your usual budget for take-out - and you can’t help but be curious about him and his work. Despite what the others have told her about him, he doesn’t seem that scary. He’s been kind to you, and he doesn’t ask you questions that are rude or too invasive. He seemed genuinely interested in your hobbies and interests, and he tries to inconvenience you as little as possible.

You think it would be rude to reject his offer, but you glance down at your unbuttoned RAD blazer and slightly wrinkled slacks. “I’m not sure I have anything suitable to wear,” you say. It’s a weak excuse and you both know it; you try not to squirm when he chuckles.

He’s not sure where the idea comes from, but he has a brief impulse to escort you to one of his favourite shops and select an outfit for you. He’s curious about what you might pick out for yourself if you didn’t have to worry about the cost. He thinks you would look lovely draped in the dark colours and soft fabrics he prefers, rather than the bland material of your RAD uniform and casual clothes.

He quickly shakes off the impulse and clears his throat. “As my guest, our usual dress code wouldn’t apply to you. Please wear whatever makes you feel most comfortable.” He glances at you over his shoulder before he leaves your room. “My driver is already outside, but take your time. I’ll wait for you in the front hall.”

You’re anxious about going to The Fall, but there was something so warm and genuine about his invitation that you accepted his offer anyway. You put on a simple button-down shirt and change into slightly less-wrinkled pants. You add a spritz of your favourite fragrance and feel refreshed. You examine your reflection in the mirror: you look put-together, but bland and unalluring - you hope he’s not too disappointed by your appearance.

Azra gives you an obvious once-over when you approach him in the foyer, and you smile bashfully when his lips curl into an appreciative smirk. He puts a hand on your back and leads you outside where his car is waiting. You spend most of the drive watching the Devildom pass by in a blur; Azra watches you instead.

When the car pulls up to the club’s entrance, Azra leads you past the bouncer at the door. Instead of turning right where the thrum of heavy bass is loudest, he turns left which leads to the club’s dining area. It feels romantic with its dark wood furniture and candlelight. The large room is filled with semi-private booths and small tables. The linens and dishware look luxurious and expensive; you feel woefully out of place.

He leads you to a private table near the back of the room, but the other patrons notice your arrival with interest. You think you can hear them whispering when you walk past them, and you realize that your boring attire won’t stifle the intrigue of your human heritage or why you’re having dinner with the club’s famous proprietor.

Azra pulls your chair out for you before he takes his seat across from you. He picks up his menu, but he realizes that there’s something wrong. You’re glancing around the room nervously, and he notices that the other guests are doing a poor job hiding their interest in you. He grew so used to your company that he didn’t even consider how other demons would treat you in public. He’s frustrated by his mistake, but he’s determined not to let this ruin your evening together.

Azra knows Zekhan is probably working in his office upstairs. He sends him quick instructions before he stands from the table and comes to your side. “I’ve prepared a table for us in my private offices, if that would make you more comfortable,” he leans down and murmurs close to your ear. You nearly sigh with relief and take his hand when he helps you out of your chair.

He leads you to a small lounge connected to his office on the second floor. It’s soundproofed so the loud club music isn't bothersome. The lounge is drastically different from the rest of the club, and you guess that it’s designed to be comfortable, more like his own home than his business. There’s a record player in the corner, and soft classical music fills the silence. There is a small candle-lit table waiting for you, and Azra suppresses the urge to purr with satisfaction when you look more relaxed now than you did downstairs.

When you're both seated, you hear a small pop. A bottle of amber liquid and two crystal goblets materialize on the table. You’re not familiar with different vintages of Demonus, but based on the ornamental bottle and Azra’s expensive taste, you can’t even imagine how rare this bottle of liquor is.

“No, I couldn’t, really–” you protest with a laugh when he offers to pour you a glass. You explain that Demonus of this quality is wasted on you; he didn’t know that humans are mostly unaffected by the demonic beverage, and you can’t tell if it’s the lighting when his cheeks darken slightly.

He clears his throat and accepts your refusal gracefully. “By all means, order whatever you’d like. I only want you to enjoy yourself.”

There’s a comfortable lull in conversation while you both study the provided menus, and you set yours down on the table with an embarrassed look. When Azra raises an eyebrow questioningly, you explain you're not familiar with the fancy names for Devildom cuisine yet. Normally you ask Beel or one of the others to help you choose which foods would best suit your tastes. You’re embarrassed to ask Azra for help doing that, but he doesn’t mock you. His eyes soften like he’s happy that you can be vulnerable with him.

He offers to order something for both of you to share. He thinks about the meals he watched you cook at the House of Lamentation; he remembers the types of dishes you liked to cook, and how you liked them seasoned. He sends a message to the staff in the kitchen with your order.

Azra sips his Demonus and listens to you talk about your experiences in the Devildom and how it compares to your life in the human world. He’s never been interested in listening to his dates - friends - talk about their mundane lives. Usually he has to feign interest, but he wants to listen to more of your stories and memories; he’s captivated by you.

When you ask him questions about his life, he tells you things he’s never told anyone. He never lets people get close to him, and normally he would never answer such personal questions. He wants to blame his loose tongue on the Demonus, but he’s not sure the reason is that simple. Your delighted laughter encourages him to tell you more and more stories about the demon brothers causing mischief and making fools of themselves.

The door opens unexpectedly and it startles you; he nearly growls at the server that interrupts with the dinner tray.

What the hell is wrong with him?

The entree Azra ordered for you both was served on a single platter, and there’s only one plate and set of cutlery on the tray. He dodges your questioning look, but he picks up a forkful of food and holds it near your mouth expectantly. Azra looks as surprised by the gesture as you feel.

He’s not sure what inspired him suddenly, but he has the urge to feed you. It reminds him of those nights when you offered him samples of your cooking. It seems like you’re both remembering the same thing, because you bite your lip bashfully and accept the food he offers you.

Azra ignores the warmth churning deep in his belly, but his lips curl into a smile when he sees a blush bloom across your face. He’s tried to show off his wealth and power in subtle ways all evening, but he feels most satisfied - and you respond with the most genuine interest - when he does simple things that shows he cares for you.

You’re embarrassed by his rapt attention, but the way he looks at you when he offers you another forkful of food is difficult to refuse. It feels profoundly intimate, and you try not to think too hard about why he’s doing it. Nevertheless, you eat until you start to feel full, and then you protest and wave away the last bit of food he holds out to you.

He looks suspiciously at the amount of food remaining on the plate like he can’t believe you're completely satisfied yet. He hesitates to eat himself until you promise with a laugh that you've eaten enough. His mind swirls with doubtful thoughts: Are human stomachs so small? Do those damn brothers not feed you enough and this is all you're used to eating? Are you trying to be modest for his sake?

He eats a few bites when you stand up and look at some of the art on display in his lounge. He wonders what you think about him and his lavish lifestyle. He assumes you're provided some sort of allowance for necessities, but he wonders how much of that you get to spend on yourself. He recalls your bedroom and the collection of new and used furniture, the borrowed manga and video games on your shelves, and the outdated TV and computer models you use.

He feels impulsive. He imagines filling your closet with Devildom silks and furs, and replacing your scratchy cotton bedspread with something that's silky-soft against your skin. He can fill your shelves with books he thinks you would enjoy, the same Devildom novels he reads on his days off. He realizes he wants to give you things - desperately - and he doesn’t know why.

Time seems to flow differently when he’s with you. He doesn’t know what time it is, but he realizes it must be getting late. His time with you is dwindling, but he feels reluctant to end this evening so soon. He gestures to a small leather sofa where you can both sit more comfortably. Any traces of your anxiety have completely disappeared, and you seem completely relaxed at his side, humming along softly with the soft music coming from the record player.

You’re nearly pressed against his side, and he doesn’t think he’s ever been this close to you before. His hand is resting on the sofa behind you, and you’re almost tucked under his arm. It feels like a victory when you don’t move away. He glances down at the bare skin of your neck, and when he leans down, the faint traces of your fragrance tickles his senses. Something predatory stirs inside him and he can't bring himself to pull away.

His sudden closeness doesn’t scare you exactly, but the growing tension between you makes your skin prickle with nervous anticipation. You can’t help but question his intentions. You doubt someone like him would be genuinely interested in you, so why did he bother doing all this? You remind yourself that you’re so completely different, and there’s no way you can be compatible. He’s so far out of your league: physically, financially, basically every possible way possible. You shouldn't even be friends let alone more than that.

But why does admitting that bother you so much?

You glance at him the same time he raises his head from where he’s been discreetly scenting your neck. You look into his eyes and they seem to reflect the same confused longing you feel.

An unspoken question hangs in the air between you: What are we doing?

Instead you say, “It’s probably getting late - we should go back soon.”

You reach into your pocket for something, but you make a frustrated sound in your throat and stand up. You look around on the floor and scan the tabletop nearby. “Have you seen my D.D.D.?” you ask him.

When your back is turned, he pulls your phone out of his pocket. He slides it onto the sofa beside him. “Oh, here it is. Perhaps it fell out of your pocket earlier?”

You sigh in relief and thank him when he hands it to you. Your eyes widen when the screen flickers to life. What in the world…? You don't recall feeling it vibrate all evening, but according to your notifications, you have dozens of missed personal and group chat messages and several missed phone calls. "It seems like the others have been trying to get in touch with me for a while now. I'm still not sure how I didn't notice earlier."

“That’s unfortunate,” he murmurs with fake sincerity, “but I’m sure they’ll understand once you explain we went out and had dinner together.”

You’re trying to respond to messages as quickly as possible, and you glance at Azra guiltily. “I know you probably have to stay and work tonight, but would it be possible to arrange a ride home for me?”

He stands from the sofa and smooths down his suit jacket. “I would never dream of sending you home on your own,” he replies more forcefully than he intends. When you frown, he explains, “I’ll escort you home personally and then come back to the club. I'm responsible for your safety tonight, and I'll ensure you make it back safely.”

If he requests his driver take a route that has several unnecessary detours that allows him more time with you, that’s his business.

Your D.D.D. interrupts with a new message:

Lucifer: I’m waiting outside for you.

Azra smothers his annoyance, but he makes sure you have all your belongings before he escorts you from the lounge to the main floor. The club is packed now and it’s shockingly loud compared to the tranquil peace of his soundproofed office. He avoids leading you near the cramped dance floor so that you don’t feel anxious like you did earlier. He takes you through a series of employee-only hallways towards a private exit around back. He opens the door for you, and you both see the Avatar of Pride waiting nearby with a stone-faced expression.

You rush forward and apologize profusely for the inconvenience. “I’m not sure how I didn't hear my phone earlier. I’m so sorry I worried you.” You turn around and face Azra who’s watching you and Lucifer with a strange expression on his face. “Thank you again for inviting me to dinner, I had a really nice time. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow morning?”

Lucifer clears his throat and steps closer. You don’t notice that he positions himself in front of you, blocking you from Azra’s sight. The club owner notices though, and he glares at Lucifer.

“In light of recent developments, your month-long stay with us at the House of Lamentation has been concluded prematurely,” Lucifer says smugly. “You understand, of course,” he adds in a tone that will allow no argument.

You’re confused by the announcement and look at Lucifer worriedly. “Won’t it reflect poorly on us if we don’t honour the bet?” You don’t want to admit that you’re disappointed; you’re not sure you’ll ever see Azra again after this.

Azra answers before Lucifer has a chance to answer you. “I’m satisfied the terms of the bet have been fulfilled. It’s difficult to focus on the intricacies of my business when I spend too much time away from home.” You step out from behind Lucifer and meet Azra’s imploring gaze. “I’ll regret not spending more time at the House of Lamentation, but I promise that I found my visit very rewarding.”

Lucifer’s fist clenches behind you, and normally Azra would feel smug about this little power play with the demon he despises. Instead, all he cares about is the way your eyes brighten when you offer him another one of your kind smiles.

Lucifer ushers you away after you bid Azra goodnight one last time. You walk home together, and you tell him about your evening: it was a simple private dinner, and nothing more. Lucifer is suspicious and looks you over for any traces of harm or injury. He’s relieved that you seem perfectly fine, but he wonders what sort of game Azra was playing with you. However, he keeps these thoughts to himself - you seem tired but in good spirits, and he doesn’t want to ruin whatever enjoyment you had this evening.

You manage to avoid interrogation by the other demon brothers when you arrive home, and you head to your room and get ready for bed. After you're tucked in, you sort through your messages, yawning while you delete the endless notifications you missed earlier.

Your D.D.D. pings unexpectedly.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: I hope we can meet again soon.

You hesitate only for a moment before you save Azra’s contact information in your phone. You wish him goodnight and roll onto your side, and you hide your shy smile in your pillow.

#A Roll of the Dice AU #obey me x reader #omswd x reader #obey me azra x reader #azra x reader #obey me oc #obey me demon oc #obey me fanfic #x reader #my oc: azra #gn!reader

229 notes · View notes

20001541 · 3 months

Note

What do you think afo would have been like if he'd been raised under better circumstances

depends on what you mean by better circumstances; there's him being born in a stable home with all his needs provided and there's not being born in a time where everything went to hell while also having a stable home. I'll discuss both here.

for the first one if shigamom had gotten support and had somewhere to live safely with her babies I think there's a lot that would change but also some that stay the same. I don't think afo would feel this desperate need to have everyone's eyes on him because he has a mother who loves him and cares for him. she protects her children and makes sure they're safe so he doesn't feel ignored as his needs are being met. he isn't the main provider for him and his brother so he would have the chance to act more like a child rather than having to grow up fast in order to survive.

however.... I don't think shigamom is prepared to handle everything that comes with having a child with a powerful quirk. people with powers are new to the world and were thought by many to be diseased so she would most likely encourage afo to hide/suppress this part of himself out of fear for his safety. of course suppression can only lead to deep unhappiness and dissatisfaction in ones life so afo would feel miserable. it might also cause a rift between him and his mother as well.

I like to think that after years of trying to suppress it he decides to go out one day and secretly use his quirk to explore more of what it can do and get relief from not having to suppress this power he's had all his life. maybe then he'll start secretly dabbling with groups that advocate for quirk rights and try to position himself as leader as a way to have full control of what happens to people like him and not to be at anyone's mercy (still has his more control freak tendencies here). with how powerful his quirk is, it'll be hard for anyone to challenge him so he succeeds in doing this.

maybe he becomes a big player in making quirks more accepted in society. he's doing this far more out of self interest, but it does help a lot of people who are struggling with the changes in their own lives and in the world. idk anything could happen really, but whatever happens in the end he comes out on top and ensures him and his family are able to live comfortably. I do wonder how encounters between him and destro in this au would go....

for the second scenario where he isn't born in a time of chaos, lets say he's born in the same time period where the plot of bnha begins in, I still think he would struggle with that suppression aspect I spoke of earlier. we know how a lot of people viewed toga as a freak for her own desire for blood. so someone like afo who has the ability to give and take quirks would be deemed a deviant by most of society. I can picture baby afo sitting in quirk counselling and told he needs to wear gloves so he wont feel tempted to take someones quirk :( the only thing good here is that he isn't at the risk of being killed by anti quirk users for having this type of quirk.

buttttt you know I feel like with a quirk THAT powerful he is bound to capture the hero commissions attention. they might coerce shigamom into giving up custody of baby afo to them so they can groom him to do their bidding and this may inevitably lead afo to the path of villainy as he's sick of being used by people who could care less about him as a person. plus they never let him see his family and he misses them greatly.

now what would his attitude towards yoichi would be like then in both of these au's? well I don't think he would be extremely codependent as he is in canon. perhaps there would be some codependency as I think he would struggle connecting with people socially so he had no friends and he often depended on yoichi for company (he didn't start making friends until he learned how to present himself in a way that appeals to many), but his dependency wouldn't be to the level we're familiar seeing him with.

its not just him and yoichi alone in the world, he has his mother here too so he has more than one source of love available to him. a large part as to he became so dependent on yoichi in canon as yoichi was the only one he had the entire world. I do still think afo would get jealous of yoichi hanging out with people other than him, but it wouldn't result in him becoming murdery. unless there's someone who gets really close to yoichi then he'll start wishing death on them on the bright side yoichi wouldn't feel as suffocated by afo and afo wouldn't feel the need to be super controlling in his life.

yoichi is also very supportive of afo and tells him how his quirk isn't something to be feared and could do amazing things in the world. though afo doesn't care to use his quirk for the greater good, he still appreciates hearing yoichi accept him and his quirk. I think they would get along better generally, though they would fight in how yoichi thinks afo is too selfish at times while afo argues yoichi needs to worry more about himself and the family rather than strangers who don't care about him.

but if afo does become a villain after being taken in by the hero commission then it would change their whole relationship for sure. there's relief and tears at seeing his brother again, then worrying about how much he's changed since then to the point where he doesn't recognize him anymore then complete horror when discovering the truth on yoichi's end. cue yoichi getting angry at everything with how the hero commission hurt his brother and caused him to become who he is now and him desperately trying to save afo. not a great time for either of them. as to what happens with both of them in the end here? who knows, there's a lot of variables to consider and I'll leave the rest up to your imagination as I might end up typing out a whole fic if I keep going.

anyways that's just what I think on how it could go if afo were raised in better circumstances.

#I didn't mean to write this much but its an interesting topic to think about #also this is fully going off the assumption shigamom wouldn't be abusive as anon specified better circumstances #though I headcanon her as non abusive I understand there are many different ways to interpret her

18 notes · View notes

latent-sense-of-loyalty · 8 months

Text

Ch. I

Word Count:3637

Masterlist ¤ AO3 ¤ Ko-Fi

CW: Graphic depictions of violence

AN: I'm ferally excited to begin sharing this with everyone. The idea has been in my head for a long while and now I get to put it out there! Big big thank you to @enterthedreams for proofing and just being generally amazing.

If you wish to be updated for future chapters, let me know, and I'll add you to the tags! Now, enjoy!!

“Resignedly beneath the sky

The melancholy waters lie.

So blend the turrets and shadows there

That all seem pendulous in air,

While from a proud tower in the town

Death looks gigantically down.”

-”The City in the Sea”

Edgar Allen Poe

Tendrils of smoke pooled from his mouth and nose, dancing around him. The next was a breath mixed with the midnight sea breeze, carried away towards the distant ships of the harbor. With the sounds of the old ships groaning at the docks, the occasional shout and laugh of the late night stragglers, it was almost as if the smoke had some kind of harmony to dance to. A fleeting one, as the next breeze whisked it away into the far unknown of the city.

The Gate always seemed so different at night.

If one were to excuse the robberies, murders, and other unsavory activities that seemed to thrive at this time, it was almost beautiful. But maybe, to him at least, that was part of the splendor of it all. The unclean, the unsavory, it all had its appeal, he supposed. He was like that once, and he was nothing if not charismatic.

The sound of metal on stone broke him out of his thoughts, heavy steps making their way towards him from one of the alleys. It was the scent that really tipped Enver off first: a suffocating mixture of rot and dust. With another pull from his pipe, he emptied the contents into the inky black void of ocean beneath him, watching the ash dissipate and sink.

For a moment, he could see the bodies he had placed in that very same spot. Vacant eyes staring up at him as they sank below. Hundreds of unspoken curses, each one paving the path closer to his ambitions.

“Honestly, you’d think one of your station would at least have the common decency to bathe” The lord turned up his nose as he finally faced Ketheric, his cane leisurely staying at his side. “At the very least, it wouldn’t kill you.”

He only received a huff from the cloaked figure. The Man strode up beside him, taking a moment to take in the ocean air before he removed his hood. The silver of his hair and beard seemed to illuminate from the moonlight above. Out here, he almost seemed alive.

Almost.

“The last person I would think about taking any kind of advice from is you, upstart.” The timbre of his voice reverberated inside Enver’s chest. Even in monotone, that voice still commanded power. Authority. It made even Enver shiver. They stood together for another long pause of silence, the tension growing quite palpable. “This could have been much more efficient if we had this meeting at Moonrise, or even in your...fine abode, Gortash.”

There was something about the way Ketheric spoke his name that just irritated Enver. Like he was talking down to some child, in lieu of the fastest growing political powers in this city.

“Unfortunately, we are still in a position where we need to be concerned about the walls listening to us. Besides, anyone that passes by here will either be too drunk to understand what we are discussing, or will be dead before sunrise.” Gortash waved his hand dismissively to the general, twirling his cane just so he had something to do with his hands.

Under normal circumstances, Enver usually was far more in control and composed with these kinds of situations. Yet the general just unsettled him to no end. Was it the aura of undead? The separation of age? Or did he just see the Lord of Bones in those dead, lifeless eyes?

Ketheric simply raised a brow, looking the other up and down.

“So tell me, old friend, how does this new lease on life that your gracious lord gifted you feel?” Enver straightened his back a little. If the General was going to inspect him, might as well give the old man a show.

The general scoffed at the assumption of friendship, wanting nothing more than to take that irritating smirk off of the lord's face.

“He sees I still have a vital part to play. My devotion to him will not sway. I am his justice -” The speech was quickly cut off by the lord’s snickering beside him as he balanced himself on the cane.

“Gods, and I thought I was the one with the potential for grandstanding.” The scowl on the old man's face elicited another snicker. “Truly, Ketheric. If this whole general business doesn't work out for you, I'm sure you'd have a wonderful time in the world of politics.” Gortash motioned to Thorm with a flourish. “The Baldurian's, at least, would love you.”

“Unlike you, Gortash, I did not have to scheme my way into power.”

“No, only betray your greatest values. A few times, if I’m not mistaken.” The way Ketheric tensed tipped Enver off that he was indeed on thin ice.

“Do not worry though, I'm sure most of us have surely had our own moments of weakness. Besides, with recent potential investments, I'm sure most would look over your past mistakes.”

“How reassuring.” Sarcasm dripped like rotted ichor from his mouth. “You have quite the amount of confidence for one that is relying on a lot of… potentials.” Ketheric looked out to the ocean again before his eyes went back to Gortash, much more serious. “I'm not here to play silly political games with you, Gortash, and I'm sure our predecessors would agree. Now why have you asked me here.”

“We haven’t been chosen on a whim, dear General.” It was Enver’s turn to change his tone. “To save you the speech, it is time for a centuries old pact be reignited. With recent events taking place, we now have the greatest chance we could be gifted for absolute domination… and it starts with what is below your home.” The look of befuddlement on Ketheric's face was enough to quell any remaining nervousness Gorthash had felt.

“I've devised a plan-”

The sound of gurgling took the words from his mouth, both staring back into the alley. The golden eye, illuminated by brilliant crimson steel, froze Gortash in his place. Even Ketheric stood straighter. Slowly, they saw the crimson blade make their way from the stranger’s throat to his groin, body spasming in its death throes.

All the while, Gortash stared into those brilliant liquid gold eyes, the stare almost searing into his brain. The grotesque sound of the man's entrails slipping onto the wet stone below, followed by the body, could only make the General shake his head.

Slow, wet steps came towards them as the moonlight illuminated her face. Gortash had only met her a handful of times, yet the sight still made his throat tighten.

Ketheric was the first to regain composure, clearing his throat. Those eyes went to the General before she removed her hood. Her hair was damp, black strands clinging to olive skin.

“A pleasure… to finally meet Myrkul’s chosen.” The Bhaalspawn inspected Ketheric, the look in her eyes flickering between predatory and admiration.

When those same eyes landed on Gortash, they quickly changed to annoyance.

“Lovely to see you again, my dear.” It took everything within Enver to hide his indignation.

Just seeing how she smirked at his feeble attempt to gain some kind of control filled him with a silent rage. Judging by how her smirk grew, he was not surprised if she could smell it on him.

“Never expected one of your kind to be so…” Ketheric was almost at a loss for words, the woman seizing the bit.

“Eloquent? Civilized? Lucid?” The Bhaalspawn circled around the man like a vulture, the image almost making Gortash laugh. “Oh, don’t fret, you're exactly how I expected one chosen by Myrkul to be. Dead, covered in the dust of his former life.”

Now that made Enver laugh. The two looked at him as he did his best to cover it with a cough.

The tension was palpable for a few moments, all three waiting for the other to make a move. The Bhaalspawn cleaned her blade on her cloak, staring back at the body wistfully before sheathing the blade. The look on Gortash’s face tipped her off that he was less than impressed with the spectacle.

“What?” She grabbed the body from the alley, dragging it so it could slip off the pier into the water below. “I was doing you a favor.” The three just silently watched the horrified face sink below before Gortash cleared his throat.

“Well, “Gortash said, clapping his hands, “since we are all introduced now, I feel it is time to speak of why we’re truly -” The woman was quick to step in front of Gortash, smirking as he stumbled on the words.

“Yes, the plan that I came up with that you so graciously tried to take the credit for.” She sneered at the lord, gold eyes brimming with irritation. “But you might as well finish what you started.”

“I would if the interruptions would cease,” Enver hissed.

Ketheric rolled his eyes at the immature display. With a shrug from the Bhaalspawn, Gortash continued.

“As you’re both well aware, we have all been chosen for a purpose, and it seems that our lord's have decided it best that we all work towards the same goal. Just as in the past, we continue the Pact of the Dead Three.” There was little reaction from Gortash’s compatriots, steeling himself before continuing.

“After some... collaboration,” His eyes flicker to the woman, “It seems a perfect plan has been laid out before us. All that stops us is our willingness to work together and take it..” Enver raises his hand, clenching it into a fist. The others could not help but roll their eyes, waiting for him to get on with the rest.

“General, it seems that you hold one of the key figures to this plan, right beneath the very stone of your home.”

The gleam of joy in Enver’s eyes was undeniable as he watched the General go through the stages of confusion to disbelief.

“To even entertain the thought of any of us somehow using, let alone convincing, an Elder Brain, not to mention the colony surrounding it to work with the Dead Three? I see that Bane has chosen a man on a suicide wish.” Ketheric shook his head, scoffing at the mere notion that the three of them stood a chance against such a creature.

“Hear him out.” She nodded for Gortash to continue. The spawn stepping in to support Gortash was enough to make Ketheric pause in shock for a moment. “Trust me, it is worth the risk.”

“Thank you.” Even Enver was a little surprised at her sudden change in behavior. Shrugging it off, he kept going. “I agree, Ketheric, it would be a foolish endeavor for us to even try convincing the creature. But, what if we had means to control it?”

The lord’s trademark smirk grew wider, which in turn made the General’s frown deepen. “Unless you have suddenly become the greatest archwizard of all time, I highly doubt it. This is becoming a waste of time -”

“The Crown of Karsus.” The Bhaalspawn looked directly at Ketheric now, gold eyes alight. “We may not be able to convince it, but we can bring it to heel and make it obey us.”

Restless, the spawn began pacing back and forth, her eyes still trained on the General at all times.

“Tell me, child of Bhaal,” Ketheric arched a brow, his stare condescending as the girl laughed, “How is it you know of such an artifact? Is that common knowledge around your circles?”

“Honestly, do you think of me as an untrained rabid dog?” Venom dripped from her tone, Gortash noticing her fingers twitch for just a moment. “I do know my fair amount of history, thank you. My father made sure I was born with a proper brain.”

He almost considered stopping her if she were to lunge at the other’s throat.

Almost.

“Anyways, the plan is relatively simple.” Enver took the lead in conversation again. “We get the crown, place it on the Elder Brain, and use it to create an army worth the names of our lords.” Ketheric was quick to wave his hand dismissively.

“If it does actually exist, how do we expect to find it?” The smile on the spawn’s lips grew, rocking on her feet a little.

“We already know where it is located. It seems that after the fall of Netheril, Mephistopheles himself claimed possession. Now it remains sealed in his vault in Cania.”

“And how did that information fall in your hands?” The General stood much straighter now, that dismissive look now shifted to one of trepid curiosity.

“My father showed it to me.” The toe of her boot scuffed itself on the cobblestone as she looked down. “In a dream.”

Gortash couldn't stop himself from pinching the bridge of his nose. The bark of laughter that escaped Ketheric made the two of them jump. It was not a sound they ever expected to hear from him, making it much more unsettling.

“So, that’s what we’re basing this entire plan? Dreams?” He motioned between the two of them, eager for some kind of answer.

“Oh? I would think you would be the last to turn your nose up at a divine gift from your lord.” She got closer to Ketheric, staring up at him with a dangerous glint in her eyes. “Or are you really that unappreciative? Does Myrkul know? I'm sure he would be quick to resurrect another’s decayed carcass to do his work.”

The General swallowed the lump in his throat, eliciting a larger smile from the spawn.

“Either way,” she went on, turning her back to Ketheric and pacing back closer to Gortash. “Bhaal has shown us exactly where to go. Now, all that is left is to get there and get the crown.”

Shaking his head, Ketheric let out another chuckle, this entire plan reaching levels of absurdity. “So what you’re saying is that the three of us make our way to the eighth layer of the hells, and perform one of, if not the most, ridiculous heist of all time.”

“Exactly.” Both Gortash and the spawn agreed at the same time, giving each other a put off look before making the space between them slightly larger.

“There has to be more to this than what you're saying. This can’t be it. Say we actually manage to steal the crown, how do we even control the Elder Brain?” Ketheric’s voice was tense, eyes kept flashing between disbelievement and genuine curiosity, his head tilting to the side.

“There seem to be three foci that resonate with the crown itself. Using these three stones, we can control whoever, or whatever wears the crown. Convenient, for us.” Gortash said, shrugging his shoulders. “With that control, we can use the illithids to infect others with the parasite. With enough infected, who is there to stop our masters?”

Gortash felt the muscles tense in his throat at the word. The spawn could see him tense, quickly flitting her eyes away before she was noticed.

“Besides,” she spoke, motioning towards Ketheric. “You will be staying here. There is a different plan for you in all this.”

Ketheric was taken aback, confused at the possible implications. “Are you saying I am not capable of such a heist?”

“Well we certainly wouldn't want one of your age and accomplishment to be over exerting themselves now, would we?” The glares Gortash received not just from the General, but from the Spawn made him put his hands up in feigned surrender. “Easy now, merely a joke. But in all honesty, we find that there is much more important work for you to do up here.”

“Such as?” Ketheric raised his brow.

“Even with my followers, we do not have the proper numbers to stage an invasion on the illithid colony.” The girl tried her best to keep her tone strong. Ketheric noticed the uneasiness in her voice. “If we are to have a chance at getting the crown on that brain, we need a big enough army to pose a distraction. Keep its attention away from us. Which is where you come in.” She motioned to the general, taking a deep breath before she continued.

“We need you to raise a number of undead. Canon fodder, to throw at those squids until we can secure the crown on its head. So, while the upstart and I are gone –” She could not help but smirk as he hissed a breath through his nose. “--you will be building this army. I will have my sister, Orin, bring some cultists to you at Moonrise to… procure necessary ingredients, let's say.” The unsure look in Ketheric’s eyes fed into her anxiety, but she had to have some faith. “Don't worry, I'll make sure she is kept on a proper leash for you.”

“Not the only one who needs it…” Gortash mumbled under his breath.

She did not look back to him, but he could see the Bhaalspawn tighten her hand into a white knuckled fist, blood slowly blooming from her nails.

“And what is your way to actually get into Cania? Not exactly a short distance to travel for the two of you.” Ketheric questioned, his eyes darting between the two.

Gortash was the one to speak before the spawn.

“That, General, is what I am just completing. An old contact of mine has the means to make a temporary portal between here, and Cania. With that supplies, once we reach the vault, we can easily teleport the crown straight to your door. No sense in lugging such a heavy thing back.”

The spawn jumped in after. “We will travel to the eighth layer by the barge on the Styx. Both the upstart and I have been able to procure a fair amount of Soul Coins. I'm sure Charon wouldn't mind giving us the lift.”

There was another long pause between the three Chosen. Each looked between each other for some kind of affirmation. It wasn't until they started hearing faint birdsong that they were snapped out of their contemplation, all three looking into the horizon, now starting to show signs of morning bleeding in.

“I will not go against the plan set in motion by our masters.” Ketheric’s voice was tense, yet firm. “If this is what we must do to see their grand design come to fruition, who are we to object?”

Adjusting his cloak, he covered his head with the hood, readying his departure.

“Wonderful!” Gortash clapped his hands together, his face positively radiating with cheer. “My business with this colleague shouldn't take too long, so I would expect us to see each other again within the week, at your humble abode.” Enver motioned to Ketheric “We will bring those cultists in tow, best to get an early start on that army.”

Giving Gortash the slightest nod of the head, Ketheric turned his attention to the Bhaalspawn, her face calm.

“Praise be the Dead Three,” she said quietly, bowing her head as Kethric turned on his heel, disappearing into the shadows.

“Well, as enjoyable as your company is, I am a busy man with many things -” Enver was cut off by a crimson blade, the tip poking into his throat.

“I am surprised, upstart, that you would take credit for this plan so quickly.” Her golden eyes burned with curiosity as she looked him up and down. The spawn stepped closer, forcing Gortash to put his back to the wall. “Interesting that you would omit how it was me who brought this to you.”

Her eyes narrowed as a small smile grew on her lips. Enver tried to mirror the expression, yet his own wavered in nervousness.

“As the one who perfected the plot, I felt it was only right.” He knew he was treading on thin ice, the woman easily able to end him here and now.

But both knew, there would be no other replacement capable of fulfilling this heist. Taking another step closer, the spawns face was mere inches from Enver’s, their breaths mixing. He was surprised how hers faintly smelt of mint.

“Well, it is a good thing I am understanding. The credit is yours.” Her voice was menacingly quiet. “Now, if the plan fails spectacularly… our Three Lords know exactly who to direct their disappointment and rage at.” With a slight flick, the blade tip was removed from his throat, not without making the slightest incision on his adams apple. The woman’s eyes flickered to the blood beginning to bloom. “By the way…”

Her hand reached out towards their right, her hand twisting and emanating a red glow. From the shadows, another figure slowly walked out, their eyes glowing the same hue that resonated around the spawn’s hand. Gortash quickly made out the emblem of the Guild on his chest, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“Your throat, cut it to the bone.” The spawn hissed to the spy.

The spy slowly took out their dagger, and after a brief pause, began cutting into their throat. Like a saw, the man cut left and right, blood pouring to the stone as their jugular was brutally torn apart. The smile never left the girl's face as, after another few seconds, the body collapsed before them, knife stuck in the guild member’s throat.

“That is yet another favour. Be careful, lordling. Would hate Arden to not be around for your death.” Turning away, the woman stepped on the body, eliciting another hiss of blood to spurt towards Enver as he watched her walk into the shadows, quickly disappearing.

It was when she was out of sight that Gortash realized two things: First, his heart was pounding in his chest, ears filled with each throbbing pulse.

The second: His lungs shrieked for air that had been denied them since the moment she nicked him.

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

Tags: @theannoyingurge @enterthedreams @rivthewriter

#gortash x dark urge #lord enver gortash #enver flymm #enver gortash #enver gortash x oc #bg3 gortash #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic #bg3 spoilers #dark urge #durgetash #gortash x durge #bg3 durge #Become as Gods #baldurs gate 3 #bg3

33 notes · View notes

ronaldofandom · 1 year

Text

Drunken Truth or Dare

Ok people. This is the craziest, whackiest, most insane drabble I have ever written.

Plot: Ram, Bheem, Sita and Jenny go on a double date. Get drunk. And play truth or dare. The women get nuts and the men get scandalized.

No warnings. This is sheer whackiness with some fluff.

...........................................................................

Jenny and Sita had spent only two months together. But in that short time, they had forged a deep, unbreakable bond, almost akin to Ram and Bheem.

They had so many layers of shared memories and stories by now; it felt like they had known each other since forever. Each was that friend to the other, who is always there just when you need them. Who has this weird telepathy with you and can just tell when something is off with you. Who knows you and understands you like no one does.

This friendship had meant a lot to Sita. But it meant infinitely more to Jenny. She spoke to Sita about some things that she didn’t even share with Bheem, not yet. Sita was her mentor, her guide, and her support system in this new world. Jenny learned from Sita’s silent wisdom every day.

The woman was also crazy when she wanted to be. Very few people knew that side of her. Maybe since her circumstances never really allowed her to let loose. But with Jenny, Sita took the liberty to discuss anything under the sun.

The two women were sitting by the lake, chattering away. While the two men were indulged in a passionate, animated debate about some plan of action a short distance away. The women knew it was normal for them. That they would kiss and make up soon after the argument. So they ignored them and got back to their discussion, which was far more interesting than the men anyway.

Sita had that half smile on. Jenny knew she was about to ask a scandalous question.

‘Sooo, who was the first person you had a crush on? The first person you wanted to kiss? And don’t say Bheem; that’s such a boring answer.’

Jenny narrowed her eyes at Sita.

‘What if the answer ACTUALLY is Bheem?’

‘But it’s not, right? I can feel it’s not. C’monn, tell me no.’

Sita wiggled her eyes at Jenny, making the younger woman smile. Jenny caved, and started to tell the story.

‘Well, he was a professor at Eton who used to home-school me on subjects I was curious about, which were not covered in my school. World history, economics, oceanography etc. I heard my cousins talk about these things all the time and I wanted to learn too. So my folks caved and let me have this home tutor. And boy, he was something.’

She giggled and looked down. Sita clapped her hands in delight, waiting for Jenny to continue.

‘He used to come every day at 6, and our session went for an hour. But I always had so many questions, so it went on for a bit more. I loved his intellect, his gentle eyes, his non-patronising attitude, and his genuine willingness to help a 15 year old girl learn. And…well, he had a great physique too. Like really amazing.’

‘Ofcourse he did.’

The women giggled together.

‘So, did you ever tell him?’

‘Are you crazy? He was a friend of my eldest cousin. The scandal would have been drastic. And I wasn’t in love or anything. I just wanted to spend time with him because I guess he was the first true gentleman I had met. So different from everyone else I knew at the time. He was the reason I started to travel more, to learn. And that’s how I also came to India by the way.’

‘Hmmm.’

‘Now, your turn. And if you say Ram, I will hit you.’

Sita laughed and covered her face with her hands.

‘My answer is silly. You will laugh at me.’

‘I promise I wont. Tell me, please?’

‘Uhh ok. Well, my first crush was not a person. It was a god.’

Jenny was about to gasp, but she recovered quickly, nudging Sita to continue.

‘You see, we have a god called Krishna. We all have heard his stories while growing up. Particularly his tales from when he was a child / teenager. He appealed me to in a way I can’t describe. He was everything I could dream of.’

Jenny was tuned in by now. Krishna had captured her attention.

‘His earth-shattering cuteness as a baby made me want to have him as my child. To care for him. To take pride in him being my kid. He was that kid who was the apple of everyone’s eye. Everyone wanted a piece of him.’

For some reason, Jenny immediately thought of Bheem. And wondered what his childhood had been like. Somehow, she felt Bheem would have been that kid too. Everyone would have wanted a piece of him.

‘He was a very naughty child, he troubled his mother so much. But he loved her a lot, the most. I wish I have that one day.’

For the first time, Jenny wondered what it would be like to have Bheem’s kid. His mini-me. How could having a little version of him around be daunting? What was she so afraid of? She hadn’t been there for Bheem’s childhood but maybe she could experience that with his kid. To see him be a baby again with his child would be priceless. Shocked by how real and imminent that emotion felt, she tried to put that on a back burner and focus on Sita’s story again.

‘He was a cute little thief. Thief of hearts mostly, but also butter. He loved it so so much that he used to steal it from other women in the village. Funny thing is, if he had asked, they would have given it to him anyway. But he loved playing with them and teasing them. Secretly, they loved it too.’

Jenny closed her eyes and tried to visualise this menace of a child. All she could see was round perky cheeks and curly hair. And the kid could run like the wind.

‘And, when he grew up, he became the centre of attention again. Of all the young women. Everyone loved him. Everyone wanted him. Gosh, they would have done anything to be with him. To be his chosen one. He was sweet, kind, mischievous, gorgeous, loving, caring and strong. All in one. There are many stories of him protecting the people. He was their saviour, their healer, their pride. He was divine, yet so real.’

Jenny rolled her eyes. This was a story she had heard from Sita and Loki too many times. Of how everyone wanted a piece of Bheem now as well, but in a different way.

‘But, he had his heart set on one. While there were many gopis, there was only one Radha for him. She was his one true love, his whole heart.’

Jenny had no control on her reactions anymore. Her eyes were moist and her heart was racing. This was too real, way too real.

‘Did they end up together, then? Did Krishna marry his Radha?’

Sita came out of her trance and looked up at this question.

‘Actually, they didn’t.’

Jenny’s heart broke for Radha.

‘Why?’

Sita pondered over it for a few seconds.

‘I think Krishna had to go away. At least that’s what I remember. But I will ask the village elders, they would know better. Somehow I can’t remember the full story.’

When Jenny just nodded and didn’t look up, Sita linked her arm with hers.

‘Even though they didn’t end up together, what they had was eternal love. Even today, their names are always taken together. There is no Krishna without Radha, and vice versa. They were soulmates, and somewhere in heaven, they must have found each other.’

Jenny looked up at her friend. Once again, without her saying anything, Sita had understood the turmoils of her heart. Gosh, she was really a godsend.

Sita attempted to change the mood, and chimed in.

‘So, how long did it take for you to imagine your Bheem, when I spoke of Krishna? Not long I am guessing.’

Jenny just smiled. It seemed like a rhetorical question.

‘Now that, ladies and gentlemen, is a woman madly in love.’

‘Yeah? As if you are any different.’

Jenny elbowed her. Sita elbowed back, laughing at their antics.

Both knew how deeply they felt for the two men. Their relationship dynamics were very different, yet the depth of the bond was similar.

This is how Ram found them - giggling and play jostling with each other. After the heated debate he had just had with Bheem over their next mission, he was in no mood for such perkiness.

‘The cabin is ready. Bheem is putting the final touches. We can go now.’

He said curtly, making the women look up at him.

Sita stood up first, half-annoyed with his tone, and ended up stomping on Jenny’s toe.

Jenny cried out in pain and Sita cried out in guilt. She bent down to check the gash her heel had made on Jenny’s toe. It wasn’t too deep but it needed immediate tending to. She just hoped it didn’t need any stitches. Sita needed her medical kit, which was in her bag in the hunting cabin. She always carried her kit with her, it had become a habit now.

Ram was still processing the scene in front of him and wondering what to do. It was all too sudden. But Sita swung into action immediately.

‘Ram, we need to get her to the cabin. Quickly. Carry her and follow me.’

Both Ram and Jenny recoiled in horror at that statement.

Ram dragged Sita aside and started speaking in native tongue.

‘Are you out of your mind? I can’t carry her.’

‘Why the hell not? This is an emergency. We need to get her to the cabin. NOW.’

‘Sita, she is……why do I need to spell it out? Isn’t it obvious?’

‘Are you really that small minded, Ram? You seriously think Bheem would have a problem with this? That he won’t understand the situation? What’s wrong with you?’

‘What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with YOU? Even if I forget Bheem for a second, which I can’t, don’t you think she would have a problem with this?’

‘Well, both of you need to suck it up. If the situation was reversed, don’t you think Bheem would help me?’

‘It’s different. You don’t hate his guts. And he thinks of you as his sister.’

‘Why? What do YOU think of her, then?’

‘THAT IS NOT WHAT I MEANT AND YOU KNOW IT.’

Jenny was hearing the argument from the sidelines and understood enough that it was about her. She stood up with some effort and tried to put pressure on her toe. It wasn’t that bad.

‘Sita, look, I can walk. It’s not bad. I promise. Let’s go to the cabin.’

Sita looked between the two stubborn people, huffed in annoyance and agreed reluctantly.

‘FINE. But for the record, I am very displeased about this.’

‘Heyyy, I am the one who is hurt. Now come and help me.’

Sita stood next to her, wrapping her arm around Jenny’s waist. Jenny leaned on her, and held on to Ram’s arm on the other side.

The cabin wasn’t too far and they reached in a short while.

Bheem was fixing the outer boundary of the hut when he saw them. But something was off, they were walking weirdly. That’s when he realised Jenny was limping, and galloped in their direction. Reaching them in a few seconds.

He scooped her up in his arms immediately, and paced towards the cabin. Sita gave him a download of what happened.

Both the healers tended to Jenny’s injury. Thankfully, it didn’t need stitches.

‘But why did you walk?’

Sita looked at Ram pointedly, in an ‘I told you’ look, but stopped short of ratting him out.

‘Because it wasn’t too bad. Look, it’s healing already. Stop worrying, please.’

Bheem was neither pleased nor convinced, but this wasn’t the time to pick that up. So he let it go.

The group had their lunch then. Today was one of the rare days when they all had the afternoon free. Jenny and Sita had completed all their chores and classes for the day. And the men had only returned last night from a long mission, so there was no training today.

The mood improved markedly with lunch. Jenny had made the dessert with a lot of love. She had recently learned it and it was one of Bheem’s favourite too. Sita’s fish curry was legendary as well.

In the middle of the chatter, Bheem kept re-applying the ointment on Jenny’s wound every 15 mins, earning her a teasing smile from Sita.

It was a happy day. Sita was feeling particularly joyful today. And playful. It had been a long time since things seemed somewhat decent and stable. She didn’t know how many such days were there in her kitty. So she wanted to live today to the fullest. She wanted to let go and for once in her life, she wanted to have fun. They were away from others, up at the hunting cabin. It was the perfect time.

‘I have an idea.’

She said chirpily, with a twinkle in her eyes. Jenny knew she was up to no good.

‘You know what will make this afternoon memorable? Some bhaang.’

Bheem choked on air and Ram choked on water.

‘Yes, you heard me right. I said bhaang. Guess what, I have had bhaang too. More than once.’

Ram looked at her like she had grown horns. Who was this woman and what had she done to his fiance?

His reaction made Sita more adamant.

‘Why the surprise, Ram? Because I chose to not be sullen all the time? Or because only men should drink, not women? What is it?’

Ram had no such patriarchal notions. Neither did Bheem. They were just genuinely surprised by all this coming their way from Sita.

‘Umm, I am not sure we have the ingredients.’

Bheem pitched in, when Ram was still struggling to form words.

‘Oh I am sure I saw some bhaang trees on the way, not far from here. Ram, would you be a dear and get some for us?’

‘It would also help with the pain, I guess.’

Jenny chose that moment to double down, looking at Bheem lovingly, while holding on to his arm.

Sita smiled proudly at her friend. Well played.

Ram and Bheem looked at each other. They had never seen either woman drunk. Heck, they had never seen each other drunk. This was all a new unchartered territory for them.

But they both felt that there was no getting out of it. Sita knew that the decision had been made, and she was going to get her wish.

‘Bring enough for a few turns. Don’t be miserly.’

She instructed Ram, who nodded in response and went away quietly.

‘Are you sure you want to have it? It’s quite strong.’

Bheem whispered to Jenny, while Sita was merrily preparing the rest of the ingredients.

‘I could try. I haven’t had much hard alcohol before but I have had fair bit of champagne. It was quite nice.’

She smiled at him with excitement, still holding on to his arm, and Bheem didn’t have the heart to say anything else. So he shoved his concern aside.

Ram returned a few minutes later, carrying a ton of bhaang leaves, as instructed.

As Sita started to pour them into the mixture, Ram began to instruct her on the quantity. But she shushed him.

‘I know.’

She said decisively, leaving Ram guessing how many times she had made it before.

‘Ta-daa.’

Sita put down the glasses in front of everyone, beaming with joy. Bheem looked at her and smiled. She had never been this open, this cheerful before. He wished she had more moments like this. She definitely deserved it, for the wonderful kind heart that she had.

Bheem decided to join in the cheerfulness, but Ram was still wary.

All three of them took the first sip and sighed happily.

Jenny looked at their reactions, and decided to take her first sip as well, with Bheem side-eyeing her throughout. She gagged, but the taste became better after a few seconds. So she took another sip. And another. Bheem constantly requested her to pace herself, but she paid no heed to him.

When she climbed into his lap after downing two full glasses quickly, that’s when he cut her off. She protested loudly, but Sita sided with Bheem. That traitor. Jenny swore to her that she would remember this, but Sita laughed in her face. That was annoying. But she was too happy to care. This liquid joy was addictive, and Bheem’s lap was too comfortable. She snuggled happily and tuned out the world for a few minutes.

Sita was nowhere close to done yet. She put another glass in front of the rest. Bheem refused politely, pointing towards Jenny who was mumbling gibberish in his lap.

Ram liked this feeling. Of zoning out. Of not constantly thinking. He wasn’t there yet but he was on the way. So he took the glass readily and then another one. They were four glasses down now.

Bheem was very amused by their antics. Ram was still mostly under control, mostly, but he had a loopy smile plastered on his face.

Sita was laying flat on her back and laughing maniacally, while breaking into a strange floor dance every once in a while. Ram cheered her on.

That’s when Jenny decided to wake up. She was still heavily drunk but her senses had absorbed the worst of it. Bheem slowly placed her outside of his lap, next to him. She didn’t protest and moved willingly. Just when he thought they were close to winding down, Jenny clapped her hands.

‘Alright everyone, let’s play a game.’

‘Yessssss. Letsssssssss.’

Sita rose up from the floor, swaying heavily on both sides.

‘So it’s called truth and dare. We can get a turn where we have to pick either truth or dare. And the person has to do what others ask.’

‘That’s such a profound game. I love it. Let’s do it.’

Sita backed her friend.

Bheem continued to be amused.

Ram was nervous - he didn’t like the sound of this game at all. But he didn’t protest. Not loudly at-least.

‘Wonderful. I can start to set the pace. Truth. Now you can ask me anything.’

Jenny giggled while rubbing her hands. Bheem loved this look on her, and smiled from ear to ear. The bhaang had done nothing to him yet but the giddiness of the environment was infectious.

‘Oooooh let’s see. Why don’t you tell me something juicy from your time in Delhi? Maybe something about the three of you?’

Jenny thought for a few moments, then jumped when realisation dawned on her.

‘I have got something. Do you know how my first meeting with Bheem was manoeuvred?’

The smile drained from Bheem’s face. As did all the colour. He avoided looking at Ram but could feel him staring daggers in his direction.

It had taken Ram half a second extra to process. When he did, his jaw dropped. How could she know? Unless Bheem had….that traitor. Ram had done it for Bheem’s benefit and that smitten puppy couldn’t even keep his mouth shut.

Smitten puppy. That’s what he will call Bheem from now on.

‘Ram threw iron nails on the road to puncture the tyres of my car. That’s how.’

Sita looked at Ram in disbelief. And part admonishment.

‘Ram, that’s so creepy.’

‘I-I know but hey, it worked right?’

‘God, are you really that stupid or you chose that particular day to say bye-bye to your brains? What if the nails punctured other cars, what about them? Did you go and help all those people too? Did you pick up the nails after?’

Ram looked down, like a scolded kid. Bheem couldn’t take it anymore and came to his rescue.

‘Look at it this way. If it wasn’t for that, we all wouldn’t be here right now. Sometimes the end justifies the means right?’

When both women narrowed their eyes at Bheem, he raised his hands in submission.

‘Can we please forget this and move on, in the spirit of the occasion?’

‘Fine.’

The women said together, then looked at each other, and laughed. Bheem breathed a sigh of relief.

Ram stood up to clear the plates and Bheem followed him, hugging him from behind.

‘Sorry Anna. I just blurted it out to her one night by mistake. Please don’t be mad at me. Please?’

Ram tried to break free from Bheem’s bear hug but Bheem just tightened his hold. And doubled down.

‘I love you, Anna.’

All fight went out of Ram. In a jiffy. This was a Brahmastra that never failed. Bheem could commit a murder and apologise after. And people would forgive him for it.

Bheem knew he had succeeded. So he ruffled Ram’s hair one final time and went back to the ladies, with Ram following behind. He would still call Bheem a smitten puppy though, that was decided in his head.

‘Ok Bheem, your turn. What’s it gonna be?’

‘Dare.’

‘I am proud of you.’

Sita patted his knee, and the whole group smiled at her antics. Including Ram.

Frankly, Ram was stunned to see this side of her. But it made him happy.

‘I heard you guys danced at that party right? I wanna see it. Please please please. I have heard so much about it.’

‘Gosh, it was amazing. Best thing I have ever seen. Everrrrr.’

Jenny chimed in.

Bheem couldn’t say no to the first thing Sita had asked from him. So he did a few steps himself, with a loud cheer from the rest. Then he dragged Ram up and the two danced together, instantly falling in sync even in an inebriated state. Without music. Without even looking at each other.

Sita was mesmerised and Jenny was nostalgic.

Once they were done, Bheem extended his hand to Jenny, asking if she wanted to dance with him. She didn’t know how much she could manage in this state but she could never say no to such an invitation.

He helped her get up, then placed her bare feet on his, moving them effortlessly.

Jenny was stunned to see that he remembered the steps. Like the back of his hand.

When she lost balance & swayed to one side, she yelped, and both his arms wrapped around her waist.

‘Shhh, I got you.’

He whispered slowly in her ear.

She smiled & wrapped her arms around his neck. This was not the posture of waltz but neither of them cared. They only cared about gazing into the eyes of their soulmate. Both thought back to that afternoon of the party a few months back and how much had changed since then.

Jenny willed herself to not get overwhelmed. To not cry. Because the moment was surreal.

However, Sita got teary-eyed looking at the two. Their love was palpable. She had seen their journey first hand - from the nervous shy looks to baby steps towards other to being madly in love. They made her believe in miracles. In destiny. They also reignited her faith in love.

It was sweet for a while but when the two kept going, she had to intervene. She was happy for them and everything but they didn’t need to rub their closeness in her face.

‘Ummm hello, get a room you two.’

They blushed profusely and sat down, still holding hands. Jenny tried to kick Sita but the woman anticipated it and ducked away in time.

Ram was glad for the intervention. Because he was about to puke at this mushy display. Smitten puppy was such an apt name for his love sick friend.

‘You are extra chirpy today, aren’t you? Fine, your turn then. Let’s see if you dare to pick dare.’

Jenny goaded Sita, wanting to get back at her. And it worked.

‘Oh please, I am not a coward. Fine. Dare it is.’

Jenny laughed her best naughty smile. Making Sita nervous for the first time that night. She didn’t like where it was going.

‘Give Ram a lap dance.’

‘WHAT????’

Ram and Bheem gasped loudly. Sita looked down. Her evil friend had her checkmated, or at-least that’s what she thought. But Sita was in no mood to cower away or back down. Not tonight.

She stood up, made another glass of bhang, downed it in a few sips and came back to her spot.

The men looked at each other nervously, and at the two women, not knowing what else to do.

‘Let’s do it.’

Sita declared, looking straight at Ram. The said man died a thousand deaths instantly.

‘Ok that’s enough. This is madness. This can’t go on. I can’t watch this. This has to sto….’

Jenny interrupted Bheem’s rant by covering his mouth with her hand.

‘Stop being such a prude. This is happening. If you can’t watch it, go sit in a corner and cover your ears.’

Bheem did exactly that. He huffed and puffed his way out of the circle, found the farthest corner, sat down facing the wall, and plunged his fingers in his ears. Sita was like a sister to him, and watching this would be wildly inappropriate.

Sita kept looking straight at an ashen faced Ram. Who was stunned into silence. And numbness. At the suggestion. And the acceptance. Both.

Sita wanted to do this partly to not back down. But also, she knew they would never get a chance to do anything remotely wild again. Their real life didn’t allow it. This was the only moment and she wanted to seize it. Curiosity got the best of her. Jenny had told her about their night in the cabin. She knew she could never have that degree of adventure but this was massive for them too. She wanted to know what this would be like.

But her legs didn’t move. Despite her best efforts. She needed more liquid courage, so she asked Jenny to fetch her another glass of bhaang. And gulped it readily.

When Ram realised she wasn’t backing down, he decided to put his foot down.

‘Sita, no. You are out of your mind. And pissed drunk. Let’s go back.’

Sita blew raspberries at Ram, making Jenny burst into a fit of giggles. Bheem could mildly hear the commotion from the corner and was horrified that the dance had already begun.

‘YOU ARE ACTING LIKE A CHILD.’

‘Oh, that’s the opposite of what I am going to do just now.’

Sita stood up, and slowly walked towards Ram, petrifying the shit out of him.

She opened her hair, letting them fall to her waist. And transformed into a siren that neither Ram nor Jenny could ever imagine.

‘L-listen, this is…..this is…..’

‘You just saw those two, didn’t you? Then why is this any different?’

‘Because…because..’

‘For once in your life, stop being a buzzkill will you?’

Ram shut up and stayed rooted to his spot, as Sita started to caress his torso and dance around him. She slapped his hands away from his face and made him look at her. Actually look at her.

Ram was equal parts horrified and mesmerised. Extremely confused by his emotions. The woman glided into his lap, and moved like the smoothest jazz dancer. For the life of him, Ram couldn’t figure where Sita had learned that from.

Jenny’s mouth open and closed repeatedly. She had no idea her dare would unleash this kracken. While she wasn’t a party to the dance, she was feeling all bothered inside for some reason. For a moment, she wanted to be in Bheem’s place. This had started to feel like an invasion of their private moment. But then, she would have never known this side of her friend.

6 glasses of bhang in one hour and can drive the best drinkers nuts. And Sita had very little experience with that drink earlier.

So, just when Jenny was sitting on the edge of her seat, literally, Sita passed out in Ram’s lap. Like a light. Ram looked at her in confusion. Then looked at Jenny. The roller coaster of emotions had thrown their senses haywire. They had lost all context of reality.

‘Is the atrocity over or is it still going on?’

Bheem’s pained voice got them back to earth. Ram gathered Sita in his arms while Jenny found her voice again.

‘Umm yeah, it’s over. You can come back.’

Bheem returned to find Ram and Jenny shell-shocked, while Sita was dangling in Ram’s arms. He had no intention of ever finding out what happened there.

‘I-I should go back to the village. She needs to have some lemon in her system soon. And we don’t have any here.’

Bheem nodded at Ram, and Ram walked back to the village. Carrying a passed out Sita in his arms. If it wasn’t for the weight of her, he would be pinching himself right now to snap out of the dream he was in. Because, how could anything that happens just now be real?

Jenny decided that she needed another glass to recover. Looking at her face, Bheem didn’t even protest.

The drink did it’s job, and Jenny was chirpy again in no time. The scene from earlier already a distant memory in her head. But the heat from the situation remained. She hugged Bheem tightly, peppering kisses all over his face.

Before he could recover, she had dragged him to the cot and pulled him on top of her.

Bheem broke their kiss shortly, rolling off to her side. She whined loudly, reaching for him again, but he stopped her mid-way.

‘Jenny, you are in no state to give consent. Nothing is going to happen tonight.’

He said decisively, leaving no room for arguments. She wanted to be annoyed, to tell him that she was in full senses and that he should take her word for it instead of making his own assumptions. But she knew his heart was in the right place and she could never get him to budge on his moral grounds.

Cuddling with him was the best she was going to get. When she snuggled next to him and adjusted her legs, a cramp made her wince loudly.

Bheem immediately swung into action, inspecting the area and stretching her leg.

‘See, this is why you shouldn’t have walked after injuring your toe. You ended up putting extra pressure on this leg. Wait.’

He looked around the cabin and was glad to find some oil to massage her leg. He lifted both her legs to his shoulders, applying the oil on them tenderly. Jenny looked at his face throughout, as he tended to her.

In a different situation, the sight of her disheveled like this would have garnered a different reaction from Bheem. But right now, he was only concerned about bringing relief to her, and nothing else. There was no end to this man’s amazingness.

Somewhere along the way, she fell asleep, knowing he would be by her side through the night.

It had been some evening. They had all ventured into some unchartered territories, leaving some scandalized and the others giddy. But one thing was for sure. None of them was going to forget this evening and what transpired here.

....................................................................

P.S. - I may have been drunk while writing this.

@irisesforyoureyes @rambheem-is-real @thewinchestergirl1208 @eremin0109 @eenadu-varthalu @rorapostsbl @yehsahihai @budugu @maraudersbitchesassemble @justmeand-myinsight @rambheemisgoated @rosayounan @jrntrtitties @obsessedtoafault @rambheemlove @jjwolfesworld @alikokinav @iam-siriuslysher-lokid @dumdaradumdaradum @lovingperfectionwonderland @chaanv @ssabriel @milla984 @kaagazkefool @boochhaan @mesimpleone @filesbeorganized @ladydarkey @teddybat24 @stanleykubricks @burningsheepcrown @veteran-fanperson @ronika-writes-stuff @beingmes-blog @yonderghostshistories @nisreenart @chaidrivenwhore @bheemaxrama @umbrulla @mizutaama @rosefulmadness @gifseafins @fangirlshrewt97 @voidsteffy @maooyinysparkle @amalthea9 @vijayasena @stars-in-the-distance @astrafangs

#rrr #tarak #jr ntr #bheem #ntr jr #charan #rambheem #bheem rrr #ram #bheemjenny #jenny rrr #sita rrr #ramsita

51 notes · View notes

misirosekisiro · 11 months

Text

Deepest Disire 3-

Chapter 3

As days turned into weeks, he spent countless hours perfecting every aspect, honing his strategy for maximum impact. Observing Kaoru's routine keenly, he identified weak points and vulnerabilities which he could exploit for his advantage.

 He studied Kaoru’s habits so thoroughly that he seemed to possess a sixth sense when predicting his friend's movements.

One day, while sitting in his dimly lit office poring over spreadsheets detailing expenses and investments, a sudden idea struck him. Smiling mischievously, he quickly dismissed work and began mapping out the intricate scheme he had been dreaming of since acquiring the Skin Suit Drug.

 Naoki's plan involved manipulating events in ways that ensured Kaoru would inevitably encounter the mystical substance.

Utilizing his skillfully designed web of influence, he orchestrated meetings and situations that would lead Kaoru directly into temptation's arms. And thus, subtly planting the seed of curiosity about the Skin Suit Drug, priming him to taste its alluring powers.

Unbeknownst to Kaoru, Naoki secretly arranged opportunities for them to spend quality time together, creating the ideal circumstances for seduction. With Kaoru unaware of the extent of Naoki's machinations, it wasn't long before the trap snapped shut tightly.

On one seemingly ordinary evening, Naoki invited Kaoru to his apartment under the guise of discussing a potential business opportunity. Little did Kaoru suspect that his friendship was about to collide headlong with the enigmatic world of the Skin Suit Drug.

Once inside Naoki's immaculate abode, Kaoru became captivated by the impressive collection of sports memorabilia and framed posters, revealing Naoki's passion for athletics.

However, amidst the engaging surroundings, Kaoru sensed an undeniable tension in the air, suggesting unspoken burdens borne by his host. Intrigued by the dichotomy presented before him, Kaoru decided to probe further into Naoki's motivations behind hosting this meeting.

"What exactly brought us here tonight, Naoki?" queried Kaoru, breaking the initial uneasy silence.

Unwilling to divulge too much information just yet, Naoki kept his response vague but nonetheless piqued Kaoru's interest significantly.

"I have a proposition that might benefit both of us greatly, my dear friend." Naoki revealed, slowly lowering his eyes, conveying a mix of apprehension and determination. His tone implied hidden depths that captured Kaoru's attention completely.

Curiosity getting the better of him, Kaoru probed deeper, eager to discover the source of his friend's unusual behavior.

"And why exactly does your proposal involve me being here today?" he asked, genuinely curious.

Naoki hesitated briefly, choosing his words carefully before finally speaking. "My proposition involves something called 'mystical drug,' a unique compound capable of transforming anyone into another person physically. It could grant someone newfound strength or agility based on the individual they choose to become. Imagine the possibilities it offers — revolutionary advancements in personal growth, career development, even romantic encounters!" he continued animatedly, clearly invested in the concept.

Feeling his heart race, Kaoru absorbed the significance of Naoki's revelation.

The possibility of harnessing such power held immense appeal, evoking feelings of excitement mixed with a lingering touch of doubt. Slowly, however, curiosity emerged victorious, prompting Kaoru to express genuine interest in learning more about this intriguing phenomenon.

Pleased by Kaoru's enthusiasm, Naoki took a deep breath, relieved that he managed to spark his friend's curiosity effectively. "Indeed, mystical drug is an incredible force to be reckoned with, offering boundless potential to those fortunate enough to experience it.

Tell me, how did you come across such a groundbreaking discovery?" questioned Kaoru with great curiosity.

Eager to share his findings, Naoki proceeded to elaborate upon the origins of Skin Suit, recounting tales steeped in mystery and danger.

"A few months ago, I stumbled upon a group of shadowy figures peddling the substance through illicit channels," explained Naoki. "It hails from an unknown region shrouded in obscurity, accessible only via a network of well-guarded entryways.

However, I managed to secure a sample recently," said Naoki, displaying a hint of pride. "This rare elixir isn't easily available, nor cheap either. My entire savings went toward purchasing it. But believe me, Kaoru, it's worth every last yen!"

Kaoru listened intently, trying to grasp the full magnitude of what Naoki was proposing. This situation felt like a fantastical tale coming to life right before his very eyes.

The allure of transformation proved difficult to ignore, and Kaoru struggled against his own curiosity. Convinced that there must be some truth behind Naoki's claims, he agreed to give it a try. If anything, it would make for an interesting adventure!

Naoki grinned triumphantly, pleased with the progress made. He had successfully gained Kaoru's support, securing permission to proceed with his ambitious plans. All that remained was to ensure Kaoru didn't change his mind once fully informed of the risks associated with the mystical drug.

Unperturbed by these dangers, Kaoru pushed aside his fears, convinced that the potential benefits far outweighed the possible drawbacks. Embracing his inherent adventurous spirit, he sought a thrill unlike any other he had previously encountered.

For several minutes, Naoki patiently answered Kaoru's queries regarding safety protocols and precautions necessary during administration of the potion. Once satisfied with Naoki's reassurance, Kaoru signaled his readiness to embark on this perilous expedition.

Feeling confident in his decision, he prepared mentally for the extraordinary experiences awaiting him.

Understanding the gravity of the situation, Naoki gathered essential equipment required for administering the mystical drug, ensuring utmost accuracy and precision. He carefully selected various instruments and tools specifically tailored to facilitate safe extraction and consumption of the potion.

Embracing the imminent challenge, Kaoru felt his blood pumping faster, anticipating the remarkable transformation lying ahead.

Standing beside Naoki, who now appeared unusually excited, the atmosphere buzzed with palpable energy. Their camaraderie intensified, bonding them even closer than before. Both friends recognized the enormity of the venture looming before them and acknowledged the sacrifices required to see it through.

Naoki opened a small vial containing the coveted liquid, admiring its viscous fluid within. Handing it gingerly to Kaoru, he gave him detailed instructions on how to consume the mystical drug properly without incident.

Cautioning Kaoru repeatedly about potential side effects, including temporary memory loss and bodily discomfort, Naoki stressed the importance of precise measurement and gradual dosage increase. After comprehending the process thoroughly, Kaoru nodded resolutely, ready to begin the journey.

Following Naoki's advice, Kaoru approached the mirror situated nearby, gazing at his reflection critically. Steadfastly focused on the task at hand, he drew a steady breath, bracing himself for the unexpected changes soon to transpire.

The room fell silent as everyone present waited anxiously, anticipating the dramatic alteration which would soon follow.

Suddenly, Kaoru noticed subtle shifts occurring around him. Colors seemed to shift gradually, appearing brighter and more intense than usual. Objects in front of him blurred slightly, wavering back and forth like heat mirages on hot summer days. Realization dawned upon him – the transformation had begun.

But the transformation wasn't like Kaoru expected. At this moment, his body slowly deflated like a deflated balloon. He looked in the mirror in a panic. His body looked like it had been stripped of its skeleton, slowly collapsing to the ground until he finally transformed into a human bodysuit. He couldn't move, couldn't speak, but could only roll his eyes. He looked in the mirror and saw Naoki who was smiling crazily with satisfaction.

The feeling in his heart sank low, seeing himself turned into a lifeless suit. What kind of monster did Naoki want? Was this what he wanted? Did he actually desire this outcome? Why would anyone wish to strip away their flesh, leaving nothing but bones covered in delicate silk?

His hands were still visible as gloves on the "suit". But he couldn’t move them. Couldn’t feel them anymore. Just two leather gloved appendages attached to his “body”.

Feeling overwhelmed with dread, Kaoru tried to gather his thoughts, while simultaneously battling waves of confusion and resignation. The eerie calm surrounding him amplified the surreal nature of the unfolding events. With difficulty, he managed to convey his turmoil towards Naoki verbally, albeit weakly.

“Why…why did you do this?” Kaoru whispered hoarsely, attempting to mask his horror beneath a facade of bewilderment.

In response, Naoki laughed mockingly, dismissing Kaoru's concerns as mere paranoia.

Naoki took off all his clothes. He then moved forward menacingly, towering over the fragile suit. In spite of his malicious intent, Kaoru observed an undeniably sinister glint in Naoki's eye, causing a chilling sensation to ripple throughout his newly acquired shell.

As if reading Kaoru's thoughts, Naoki began circling the vulnerable object, methodically examining the exquisite craftsmanship displayed so prominently. Adrenaline coursed through Kaoru's veins, his pulse racing madly as he watched helplessly.

Desperately, he strained to free himself from the suffocating confines of his skinsuit prison, fighting valiantly against the impossibility of escape. Frustration swelled inside him as reality struck hard; there would be no reprieve. No salvation lay hidden within reach. His fate lay inextricably intertwined with the malevolence enveloping him.

Meanwhile, Naoki's unwavering confidence in his devious plan further solidified the growing sense of unease engulfing Kaoru.

Naoki began examining "Kaoru's body suit." He pulled it and stretched it with the force of his hand like a thick balloon. Kaoru himself felt no pain. It's like someone grabbed the skin and pulled it while being injected with anesthetic. There was only the feeling of being grabbed and pulled. Then Naoki remembered. He held it to his mouth. He pulled out the "Kaoru Bodysuit" and stretched it out. It stretched wide until Naoki could fit his legs inside. Kaoru felt strange that his own body was being invaded.

While Naoki continued manipulating the bodysuit with relish, Kaoru experienced newfound levels of terror. Tears welled up involuntarily, yet none escaped his tightened facial muscles. He knew any resistance would prove futile, as evidenced by his utter lack of control over his limbs and body. Naoki's legs slipped into Naoki's legs. "Kaoru Bodysuit" At first it was like trying to stuff something too big into a balloon. It inflated, but after a moment it compressed back. Naoki wiggled his toes, and the toes of "Kaoru Bodysuit" moved accordingly. It was like Naoki could use Kaoru's legs like his own. with excitement He quickly stuffed his other leg in. inserted into the leg of "Kaoru Bodysuit" on the other hand and he stood up on Kaoru's legs.

It felt weird to have another person standing up on your legs. Kaoru was shocked because he didn't expect such a thing to happen when they used the "skin suit drug." He looked at his friend stiffly, trying to figure out why he chose this way to go about things. Even though he was trapped in his own body, Naoki's smile filled him with a mixture of rage and despair. His anger boiled within, threatening to erupt despite his impotency.

Naoki tried to put "Kaoru's Bodysuit" continued, he smiled when he saw Kaoru's flattened cock. He slowly guided his cock into hers. "Kaoru Bodysuit" is like a leg. "Kaoru Bodysuit"'s cock swells and stretches out to the point of looking abnormal. But after a moment he squeezed and it turned into Kaorusu's handsome cock again. Kaoru felt a thrill as Naoki's cock slipped inside his cock. It was a thrill that was hard to explain. Despite having had a lot of sex, he had never felt like this before.

Naoki pulled "Kaoru Bodysuit" up from her waist level. "Kaoru Bodysuit's" mouth stretched so much it was threatening to break. But it only stretched. He pulled Kaoru's bodysuit up to his chest and slowly inserted his arms into Kaoru's bodysuit, one at a time. When his hand slipped into Kaoru's hand, The "Kaoru Bodysuit" was a bit difficult as it was like trying to fit his fingers into each hole correctly, but he soon managed to get both of his arms to work. The "Kaoru Bodysuit" was now covering Naokij's body. It's up to my neck. Only the head remains. Naoki looked in the mirror. Saw the body of a young boy with the head of a working man. He tried to move his body, jump, and the more he did it, the more he laughed with satisfaction until he was crazy.

Naoki said, "See! Nothing happened right?" His laughter echoed throughout the quiet room. For Kaoru, every action resulted in failure, sending chills down his spine. Fear gripped him, rendering him immobile save for the tremors wracking his limbs.

Naoki gently pulled the head of "Kaoru Bodysuit" came up. It's like wearing a hood, but it's a hood that has Kaoru's handsome face on it. At first it looked like a bloated head with a deformed face. But after a moment, like the rest, it squeezed itself into place, shaping the face until it was in place. At this very moment Naoki has disappeared. There was only Kaoru standing there. Kaoru stared at the mirror, grinning, laughing hysterically. Then he began to show Kaoru's expressions. The person he had been spying on for years.

For Kaoru, the moment his head was placed on Naoki's head. He felt as if his head was slowly clearing up, all the emotions disappearing, as if someone had rummaged through his brain. Kaoru's identity It seems to fade away He looked expressionlessly at the person who was smiling, dancing, laughing, acting himself. It's like watching a performance from the audience seat.

Kaoru who is locked in his own body. see another kaoru in the mirror who was acting like "Kaoru", he began to ask himself, who was it, himself or who else? The question repeated itself for a long time. His head felt like it was clouded with mist. It's not important anymore... He is sleepy, wants to rest, wants to sleep forever. Kaoru closed her eyes in his imagination and never woke up again.

From this second The old Kaoru has disappeared. Kaoru bodysuit is not more body suit, It's turn in to real skin. no more backward.  Just like Naoki This name will never appear again in this world. Only the new Kaoru remains. Even Naoki want to take Kaoru bodysuit off, it's not possible form now on. He goes to pick up Kaoru's clothes that are on the floor and put them on. before walking to the table Picking up paper and pen, he wrote in Naoki's handwriting one last time. He explains that he is deeply in debt. And he wanted to run away, not have to search for him. He writes in a variety of ways, like he might have committed suicide somewhere. He left the letter on the dining table. Use a coin to make sure it doesn't fly away. Kaoru finally walked out the door. Looking back at the room where he had lived for so long and will never come back again He opened the door and walked out. before gently closing the door behind him

. Stepping outside onto the busy streets of Tokyo, he adjusted his jacket, making sure it concealed the faint traces of his past life. Passersby hurried along, paying little attention to him amidst the sea of faces. He blended seamlessly into the crowd as he made his way toward his destination. The sun cast a warm golden light upon the city, creating a picturesque setting for his departure.

#identity theft #steal clothes #stolen identity #clothes stolen #gay #male bodysuit #male body suit

22 notes · View notes

aventvrina · 5 months

Text

Was talking with @zorkaya as we're plotting and it finally gave me the push to put into words my thoughts on how Aventurine views his past.

It's not that he denies it's impact or that he's ashamed of it. He doesn't try to cover anything on himself that tips off just what he went through, neither his eyes nor the commodity brand are hidden except for his left hand when he's making a risky gamble. With that said though, I don't feel that he's very forthcoming about it either.

Sure, there's allusions and assumptions that can be made if people know the background situation of Sigonia-IV and the fact that the Avgin's are essentially extinct, however, if asked directly about it (unless under duress like when Sunday made him face Xipe's judgement) he would most likely give half truths. He wouldn't deny but wouldn't confirm either.

It is my headcanon that he's not as transparent about his time in Sigonia-IV not because of trauma but because of guilt. He was powerless and helpless, a spectator to atrocities while being encouraged to flee instead of taking arms. Though I don't think he feels regret since he was following his sister's plea, he does feel guilt for doing nothing.

In fact, I think he believes his "past" starts on the day he killed the slave owner. It was the first time he took life into his own hands and stopped being a passive actor under destiny's hand. The action of survival stopped being an action the moment he was forced to kill those slaves for the sole reason of testing his value, this was the turning point for him as he saw himself become more than a simple commodity. Avgin's always repay their blood debts.

On this note also, the line delivered by his sister is extremely poignant given that the clan truly believed they could repay the massacre with the IPC's help. Sadly we don't know the state of the Katican's to understand if they were indeed executed after committing massive genocide or if they are still in the desert. There's only mentions of Avgin's being made martyrs for the Amber Lord, but the Interstellar Peace Broadcast does state that the hammer of Preservation will fall on all beings, so it was publicly condemned just probably not acted upon.

Developing this string a little more, on his in game character story he mentions people who helped him and this is also a very telling line. Given that Avgin's have very specific easily identifiable features and that they were extinct, it makes sense for the IPC to try to cover his survival by moving him out of the planet and selling him into slavery. If news of a survivor were known he'd be protected but the Avgin extinction was a deliberate act in the name of Preservation so they couldn't let a single soul surface. On this currently unidentified planet, he was possibly helped by some people after killing the slave owner and those might be the ones who he's mentioning. Whether they died for helping him or for other circumstances it's unclear at the moment but it adds to his blood debt towards the IPC.

It's by no coincidence that he chose to appeal to Diamond, not just because he accepted talent regardless of origin, but also because of his direct opposition towards Oswaldo Schneider. The Ten Stonehearts are regarded as outsiders in the IPC, a near independent movement that feels like a small army loyal to Diamond alone. Diamond definitely has his own agenda within the IPC (also fascinating that he is an Emanator given that only P48'S should have that ability but I'll discuss that later) and that passes by preventing Oswaldo from rising to the board seat like him which is perfect for Aventurine.

I went on a tangent here, but this was all to say that Aventurine would sooner talk about the blood on his hands than on his soul because he feels humiliated to have been so passive on such a decisive moment of his life.

#tesserae;#(i promise i am a rp blog and i have been writing drafts idk why it's coming so slow)#(but talking about him and framing his mindset does help to get the urge to to write)#(if only i could grab what i have in my mind and put it on post without struggling 24/7)#(this will pass this will pass)#(also thank you to renata for the brainstorm our sybils are a beautiful mess and i love them so)

9 notes · View notes

athenaholmesartistsguild · 10 months

Text

All my Tarot Card designs

Check this card out on my Patreon for free!

Here's my King of Pentacles card!

Definitely an obvious choice, but I went with Akiyama for this one. If you're interested in reading more about the King of Pentacles and my reasoning for choosing Akiyama for this card, I'll put that under the cut:

Upright, the King of Pentacles is the ultimate rags-to-riches story. He did not inherit his obscene wealth. He earned it through his own hard work. But unlike other wealthy individuals who come from similar circumstances, but lose their connection to the less fortunate, the King of Pentacles has chosen to uplift those around him and share his wealth.

In this generosity we see someone who has faith in their ability to make enough money to replace what they're giving away. To the King of Pentacles, the lives of the people he's helping are much more precious than the numbers in his bank account.

The King of Pentacles accrued his wealth in the traditional ways-- he's not one to gamble and he doesn't typically indulge in frivolous spending. Through his hardships he has learned the importance of controlling his spending and investing wisely. Showing off or taking risks on a whim no longer appeal to him. He would much rather use his money to help people and actually make a difference in other people's lives.

Emotionally, he's not all that in touch with his own feelings or the feelings of others. This is largely due to this king feeling like he has other things he'd like to devote his attention to. While he definitely cares about his loved ones and the people he serves, this can manifest in criticism or advice that you might not have asked for.

Reversed, we see a King who no longer supports his people. Whereas the upright King of Pentacles is generous and confident that he will make back everything he gives away (and then some), the reversed King of Pentacles sees no value in generosity. His controlled spending habits have become penny-pinching and cheap and his confidence is replaced with an almost desperate need for wealth in all its materialistic qualities.

Despite his obsession with all things commercial, this reversed king doesn't have that much money. It seems to just slip out of his hands, being spent on gambling or other impulse-purchases that he can't afford.

His previous lack of emotional intelligence is now downright cruelty. He is aware of others feelings and thoughts, but he simply does not care. He is now completely inwardly focused, choosing to take what he wants regardless of how it affects others.

Akiyama definitely fits the upright version of the King of Pentacles. Considering he runs a loan business that doesn't charge any interest, I'm not saying anything all that revolutionary.

Reversed though, I think there's a more interesting discussion to have about Akiyama's character and how it relates to this tarot card.

So I'm not a huge fan of the way Akiyama treats women in Yakuza 4. For one, the male customers he has get these personalized tests that make them face the issues that caused them to seek a loan in the first place, but then for the women it's just "work at my hostess club, go on a date with me, or be willing to do sex work". When looking at Akiyama's treatment of women in 4, specifically Yasuko, we see a man who wants something and engineers situations to manipulate the woman into giving him what he wants. Yasuko says so herself that she can't really decline a date with the person who decides whether or not she gets the loan.

And while Akiyama isn't evil or even necessarily doing this consciously, we see someone who is willing to hold the promise of a loan over the heads of the people who have something he wants.

Akiyama wants to help people and that's great, but there's also a dark side to his generosity.

#The end sounds kinda critical but I actually like Akiyama as a character quite a bit!#This is mostly a read on his character in 4 because that's where I feel a lot of the issues I've had with his behavior originate.#In 5 he seems more like a trickster god which is a little more entertaining to watch.#Still a bit fucked up but less predatory and weird.#Like. It's kinda hilarious to tell someone who's acting like a pageant mom that he'll give her the money to mold someone into the #perfect idol and then turn around and tell her that she'll have to quit the business after the idol's debut concert.#yakuza #my art #yakuza fanart #akiyama shun #tarot card #tarot card design

14 notes · View notes

damistrolls · 1 year

Text

A Talk

in which tencha and esilon discuss recent events

no proofreading we die like men

(google docs link here)

—

“You look uncomfortable.”

“.. Mm. The pain medication is wearing off, I think.”

Tencha settled down in a seat beside Esilon’s bedside, with fresh bandages in-hand. He hated this part, but he knew it was necessary. Dying from infection wasn’t exactly the way he had wanted to go, after all.

“Sorry to hear. I would give you more if I could, but we still need to wait a little longer.”

As much as he loathed to admit it, Tencha’s voice was relaxing. It was smooth and soft, with a sort of airy playfulness to it. Fitting, for the carefree godling.

Esilon winced as he sat up in preparation to have his bandages replaced. As the bloodied ones were taken away, he got a good look at the injury he had sustained. It was his own weapon that had pierced him, so he already knew the sort of damage they would be dealing with. Ripped skin, both from entry and exit. The stitches that Tencha had done to close the wound didn’t make it look any more appealing, either.

“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” Tencha continued, eyes flicking up to Esilon’s face, “That you managed to miss everything important. Maybe someone is watching over you.”

Esilon blew a short huff of air from his nose bitterly.

“Or the opposite. Something’s keeping me alive for its sick entertainment.”

“Could be,” the godling acquiesced. He wasn’t the type to argue. Always agreeable. It wasn’t for a lack of opinion, though. If prompted, Tencha would gladly say his piece, but it seems as though he does try to avoid friction if he deems it unnecessary.

Fresh bandages were carefully wrapped around Esilon’s midsection, covering the grievous injury. Once he was free to lay back, he did just so, wincing once again as he did. Tencha then got up from his seat, about to go and dispose of the bandages, before Esilon spoke up.

“Why did you save me, anyways?” he asked, brows pinched together miserably. “I didn’t want to be saved. You should have just not bothered.”

The godling gave a little hum, the serene look on his face not leaving, despite the subject matter. He sat back down, setting the bandages aside for now.

“Can I ask you a question instead?”

Esilon sighed, but gestured for Tencha to go on.

“Why do you think dying by Melina’s hands would absolve you, given the circumstances?”

Tencha held his gaze with a certain intensity that made shame well in his gut. It was easy to forget how long Tencha had been around on most days, but right now, he felt the weight of his sweeps pressing down on him. The carefree air about the rust was gone, and he stared at Esilon with an unexpected seriousness. Esilon felt small under his scrutiny.

“You knew she wouldn’t remember you. Why put her through that?” Tencha shook his head, and then continued.

“I understand how you’re feeling, even better than you know. You’re hurt. You’re guilty. You’re angry. You want to disappear. You want to undo everything you’ve done. You want to lash out. You feel as though you’ve lived for nothing, so you want to die for nothing as well. You want to be forgiven, but you don’t think you deserve it, and all you know how to do is run away.”

The godling frowns, tilting his head. His eyes were now filled with sympathy, but all it did was make the shame grow.

“Who are you even running from? Yourself? You won’t prove anything by doing that.”

Esilon was silent. He eventually was able to tear his gaze away from Tencha, but only because he felt the familiar prickle of frustrated tears at the corners of his eyes. Tears always came annoyingly easy to him.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Because you wouldn’t be satisfied if I told you I simply didn’t want you to die. Despite everything, Esilon, I’d like you to live.”

“There isn’t any reason why I should,” the purple said through gritted teeth, using the bottom of his palm to scrub a tear away, pushing his glasses up as he does. “I lost everything.”

“You didn’t,” Tencha insisted. “Things will be different now, that is for certain, but your life is far from over.” He places his palm on Esilon’s chest, hand warm. “You love Quijon, do you not?”

“I do, but that’s not–”

“You would love him in any universe, wouldn’t you? You would love him, even if he changed, right?”

“I mean, I… Yes, but…”

“You can mourn the memories that were lost. No one is saying you can’t. But Quijon didn’t disappear. It’s still him. He may not remember you, but he trusts you. He was worried when you disappeared, and felt guilty that he was the reason you got hurt. He cares for you, even if your past together is gone.

He loves you in every universe as well, Esilon.”

The purple bites down on the inside of his cheek, hoping it would stop his emotions from getting the better of him. It did nothing to prevent more tears from beading in his eyes. Tencha’s hand moved up so he could wipe a tear with the pad of his thumb. His hands were not as soft as one would expect, but he was delicate with his touch.

“I know you feel guilty for what you’ve done… But death will not absolve you. It will only cause more pain.

If you want to fix things, first of all, you will need to forgive a lot of people. Yourself, mainly. Quijon too, as well as Melina. Forgive and move on. Appreciate the new beginning you have been given. Be the sort of person that no longer needs to be absolved.

And eventually, the guilt will fade, as will the grief.”

It was all easier said than done. However, Esilon knew Tencha wasn’t taking it all lightly. He was sure he understood how hard it would be. He wouldn’t suggest it if he didn’t think Esilon was capable.

He let his head drop against Tencha’s hand, sniffling as tears dripped down his face. The godling tilted his head, looking at Esilon with undue fondness.

“... You seem tired, little leaf.”

“It’s been a long week.”

“I can tell.”

Tencha left his hand where it was, supporting Esilon’s head, thumbing over his cheek softly. The two of them were quiet for quite some time, but it was Esilon who eventually broke the silence.

“... What’s my future like?”

“Just as uncertain as everyone else’s. But we could take a look at some potential futures, if you would like.”

“No…” Esilon sniffed, and let his eyes fall shut. “Maybe I ought to figure it out for myself this time.”

#the doc has dialogue colors bc it was helpful to me so im sorry if it bothers u </3 #tencha #esilon #writing

16 notes · View notes

smol-feralgremlin · 7 months

Text

FebruarOC Day 11: Karington

The last time Karington had met Vespera, Ves, face to face in a private setting, she’d come to his rooms and he’d been a little more than half asleep and sweatsoaked from nightmares. He’d insulted her and yet she’d still left him with a gift of teas and some small advice. One of the teas she’d left had been more than helpful with easing the nightmares and had allowed him to actually sleep.

And now he was in the rooms she shared with Ulric, and significantly much more put together. Ulric had been less than surprised when he opened the door and saw him standing there. He’d only raised his brows a little when Karington asked to speak with Ves alone, before saying a few words about going outside with the wolf pup and leaving after kissing Ves. Karington wondered about the changes in Ulric as he watched Ves carefully while she went through a small chest in search of something. His cousin used to be a lot more rambunctious and talkative. Now, Karington hadn’t missed the fact Ulric moved with more stiffness on cooler days, after all so did he, or the fact he clearly had issues with his shoulder. Ulric had been in war and was older, being in his early thirties now if he remembered correctly. But that didn’t entirely explain the drastic change

Ves closed the chest and tapped it twice before limping her way to the table. Her staff leaned on the wall, so she seemingly didn’t need it all the time. Still, he had offered to help her fetch things. She had promptly, firmly, and still gently, told him that under very few circumstances would she let a guest act as host. He’d tried to say that seeing as this was his home, she was the guest here. The glare she levelled at him had left a splinter of ice still lodged in his chest. The changes in Ulric none withstanding, he could see the appeal his cousin saw in his Eirgolian wife.

She sat down heavily with a sigh and picked up the teapot that had been steeping the whole while and poured them both tea. Karington took his with a grateful nod. A normal tea, she had told him. One made from the wild herbs she’d collected.

Ves slid a square of folded cloth to him. “You look better, but still tired. That has a powder you can add to help wake you up some more if you’d like.”

Karington considered the cloth for a moment before mutely picking it up and opening it to find a green powder. Considering she hadn’t done anything to mess with him, he dumped it al into his tea and stirred it in. “Thank you.”

Nodding in acknowledgement, Ves stirred honey into her tea before taking a sip. A few quiet moments passed like that as Karington looked around the room. Ves and Ulric had only been here for a week or so and already things had been hung up. Wooden rounds with runes carved and blackened into them hung on either side of the windowsills and the doorways. Small clay jars with dried flowers were arranged around the windows. Wreaths had so much various dried plant material tucked into them that he couldn’t identify them and barely could tell it the base was made of a vining plant of some sort. She had said herbalist, but talk around the castle was that she was a witch. Isme certainly believed she was one. He’d seen her manipulate fire himself. Vespera Seratova was no simple herbalist. And that made him worry for Ulric. Isme claimed that Ves had bewitched him. And while his cousins change in behaviour was drastic, Karington had watched her as they travelled. Again, she hadn’t harmed him in the slightest despite having the opportunity to do so. Or anyone.

“You’re here for more of the tea’s?”

Karington looked over from studying a quilted tunic he’d spotted in a basket through the doorway. “Yes. And to request that you discuss how its made with the medical personnel of our military.”

Ves smiled slightly. “I already have. As well as those working in the castle infirmary.”

Well now. That hadn’t been said ever. “You told me to come find you when I ran out,” he accused, annoyed and a little alarmed.

The smile disappeared. “I thought you’d have questions for me. I’ve seen how you watch me, and Ulric. What is it your looking for?”

“Likewise, I thought you’d have questions for me.” Karington paused and ordered his thoughts while thinking of the best way to proceed. “Ulric. What happened to him? He didn’t used to be the way he is now.”

Ves sat up more in an attempt to straighten herself up more despite the fact that her spine was permanently bend to compensate for her short leg. No amount of time using a staff would fix that, and he felt sorry that she had to deal with that. Did she ever have a chance to have normal body structure before whatever befell her?

“He was well on this path before I met him,” she said after another sip of tea. “You can look to Isme for the blame for that. I had nothing to do with it, despite what she accuses me of. I’m a shamist, not a witch. Your brother knows of it. As for any other question you might have expected. I worked in a brothel for some years as a herbalist, and many other places before that with similar reputational levels. I’m not unfamiliar with people who are similar to you.”

Karington leaned forwards, grasping his mug of tea a little too hard, hungry for anything she could share. “There’s more?”

“Not a lot, mind, but there is indeed others. Maybe the reason I don’t recall knowing of more has more to do with the fact that more than a few lived as they should, as you do, despite growing up a way that was believed at the time to suit them better. The ones I met were happy for the most part. Only needing my help for the usual ailments and rarely much else.” Ves frowned. “I don’t want to talk about the rare cases that they weren’t happy. But you aren’t alone in the world, and I hope you meet them.”

Others. He wasn’t alone. And that lit up his heart as much as when his parents accepted the fact they never had a daughter, but two sons. And if Ves had met them, then maybe she could really help him then.

Sitting back and storing the new information somewhere safe in his mind, he breathed in deeply before asking. “Do you have anything that will stop the monthly bleeding entirely?” Ves raised her eyebrows. “Or even for long periods of time? Nothing I’ve tried has been as effective as promised.”

Tapping her fingers on the table, Ves thought for awhile. Karington swallowed and waited, his gut twisting a little more as seconds and minutes passed. Could she? Or did he have to deal with this for the rest of his life? Maybe he really would have to go on a quest to find a doctor or witch, anything, in some far off country.

“I might have something. But I make no promises if it will be better than anything you’ve tried before,” Ves said finally and Karington sagged a little in relief.

“I will try anyways,” he said. Something was better than nothing.

“After tea.”

“After tea,” he agreed.

Even if nothing she had worked, she’d already done a lot for him without him ever asking. Better sleep and less pain from his own leg did far more for his mood than he had thought. If she was willing to do that for almost an entire stranger, then she must be doing good for Ulric despite everything he’d heard. And he was more than grateful for that than he was able to express.

#i love him #and I love her #they're both fun #gremlin writing #februaroc #februaroc 2024 #writeblr #original writing #Wolf King

6 notes · View notes

louisisalarrie · 7 months

Note

Also I haven’t seen any solo Louies say what you just mentioned [hating Harry & saying he is sabotaging Louis]

......

Haven't you come across this notorious blog? She has run a hate blog for Harry since 2019 and thinks Sony is still sabotaging Louis' career so that all the fans go to Harry. All the louies who liked this post think the same.

https://www.tumblr.com/seasurfacefullofclouds1/733327325614292992/i-was-thinking-about-the-harry-styles-ben-winston?source=share

Woweee no I have never come across this blog before. I had to read this post like 3 times to gather some thoughts on it, Christ. It’s a bit of a mess, this post, a jumble of a lot of emotion and ideas, but I’ll do my best to make some commentary. Anon, and by extension OP, welcome to the show.

First off, I’d like to say that while Harry’s team, the Azoffs, did groom him from a young age and grabbed him the second they could to push a solo career and use him as a money maker, Louis, Zayn, and Liam being inactive to a degree does NOT mean that Harry’s team silenced them. And Harry’s success wasn’t entirely dependant on their silence (it helped, sure, but my point stands). While Azoff already has a massive monopoly in the industry, they knew the right ways to push, market, and deliver Harry Styles™️ to the public. That’s why the Azoffs are so big, because they’re good at what they do, and have held a legacy for a long time. Harry was picked up by them for a reason, and we all knew early on that Harry was always going to be the golden child. He was always marketed as it, from the very beginning of 1d, and they took advantage of that. Harry was the most famous member during 1d, and he had the potential to get bigger, more flamboyant, and appeal to a wider audience. It’s very simple marketing. It’s how a career grows. It’s how managers choose their clients. It’s why A&R positions exist.

Secondly, I know it has been a topic of discussion for a long time, but Harry not denying Larry is just a thing that’s happened. Whether you believe it’s because Louis was protective and took it on the chin as the older one in the relationship, or whether you think 1d’s team didn’t think Harry would be able to handle it/make it convincing, or whether it was simply to keep Larry as a topic still up for discussion because we held on to the fact Harry never denied it, is up to you. However, if the OP wants to talk about queerbaiting, let’s do it.

So, queerbaiting, or larry baiting, or whatever people in this fandom are calling it these days, can exist to an extent (before it truly becomes unethical). Sexually ambiguous pop stars in this day and age gains traction, gains attention, double the news stories and double the scandals. Yes, I agree that Harry’s team play up his image to keep people interested, and yes, I believe Harry truly enjoys dressing/acting more freely in his life. I believe that yes, he is allowed to act more himself and open, but still under the umbrella of stunts and needing to keep his sexuality open for interpretation to leave a space open for said stunts. I mean… people are speculating his sexuality alllllll the time, while still getting the added bonus of news articles with TR… it’s working, right?

I think, personally, OP is demonising Harry as a person, and slips in and out of the public narrative at times. Like, they believe it’s his team, but also Harry encouraging it. And I don’t think it’s the case. I think Harry is doing what he can right now, in the circumstances that he’s in. He’s at the high point of his career, the peak, you really think he’s gonna argue with his team to a point of losing everything he has??? Like I’m sorry, but simply put, if Harry gets dropped from a major music team like the Azoffs, they’ll ruin his career and any plans he has for the future. Tragically, he’s so reliant on them as well, because he knows that if he ducks out now, he’ll probably have like 2 years left of a dying solo career, and a lot of harries will leave. Not the die hard fans, sure, but the GP and more casual fans won’t be attending his shows, because he won’t have that platform anymore. It’ll be absolute crash and burn. And if he wants to do that, I think he’ll risk it all and do it with Louis, or do it when he’s contractually allowed to, without burning all his bridges. He’s under some seriously strict clauses right now (pls just trust me on that), but people seem to not recognise that due to the fact he’s more “free” now. It’s a problem, and continues to divide the fandom due to a lack of understanding of contractual obligations and toxic solos.

The whole thing of him recently where he showed up to the footy not as flamboyant as he usually is, is sooooooo dumb. Like, the fact people are saying he’s straight because of that? Truly shows you what an image and narrative can do. Anyway, let’s carry on.

So, I actually had never seen Euphoria and forgot entirely about that whole thing until my housemate made me start watching it and I got so shocked HAHA. But… I do find it extremely interesting that there seemed to be a lack of approval and it went to air. Using their names and likeness and throwing us and fic writers into the mix was not necessary for that scene to go ahead. Also, it’s a well known topic that causes some serious shit when it’s brought up. Perhaps there’s some sneaky little loopholes the writer used, I can think of a couple actually, but I’d have to dig deeper to make sure I’m getting my terminology right, but yeah. If that can go to air without problem, and Louis tweeting after the fact “I can categorically say that I was not contacted nor did I approve it”, speaks volumes. He didn’t get super aggressive, deny Larry, whatever. He made it clear that he didn’t approve it because like… why the hell would he? Why would Harry? They’d much rather have that part of their lives private and not aired like that, and god even if they weren’t together, that would’ve been horrible to see too. Euphoria fucked up for that, and breached fandom/band/GP crossover big time.

However, OP seems to think that Harry and/or his team approved it. That it was another one of his marketing ploys, using Larry as “fresh meat for Harry’s fetishizing, fantasizing, mostly heterosexual female fans” which, yeah. I get what they mean, but Harries don’t tend to like Larry. It’s not a tried and true method, like the stunting has been. In fact, I imagine it made a lot of Harries very angry and turned off of Euphoria and just caused a bunch of fighting instead. And trust me, Harry, nor his team, would’ve signed off on that shit. Absolutely no way. That doesn’t fit what they’re pushing, it just… doesn’t. And being mad about Harry not saying anything, well… it is what it is. I don’t think he needs to. I think Louis often says enough for the both of him, and is in a very different situation to Harry anyway.

Anyway, the further down this post from OP we go, the more bitter it seems to get, and the more emotional. They say how Louis’ overcome the odds, how he’s thriving, and yeah, that’s true. It’s just not necessary to compare them because that doesn’t make sense, in industry standards and trends.

Then, we head onto Harry “siding with the abusers and colonizers, because that’s where the money and fame are” which is a… uh… yikes statement? Sure, he’s been around some questionable folks. Sure, he’s stayed silent on topics that if he could comment on, he would. But his position in the industry requires him to rub shoulders with these people. It’s work. And it sucks. But simply put, would they be saying the same if Louis was hanging out with those people? Because if they would, then good on them for holding their values so highly. But unfortunately, it is almost impossible to consume any kind of media these days without someone horrible having been involved in the creation, promotion, or acting adjacent to the creator of the art or the art itself. So, yeah. It’s not something we should be silent about, I’m not saying it’s okay, but that won’t change for years and years and years to come. Plus, see above when I talk about him losing his career. Because yep, that’ll happen if he speaks up, too.

Next, OP says a bunch more nasty things about Harry, and then contradicts themself, and then the final sentence basically says that he’s made his bed, he’s sided with oppression and greed, and… idk, I feel like OP’s post jumps around so much, and fails to hit home with the point they’re trying to make, because it is so emotional.

Listen, we all love Louis, and it can feel frustrating to see Harry shoot out into the stars ahead of the other boys, and that of course can cause resentment and anger. I’m not blaming the OP for having those feelings whatsoever, I just think they maybe need to analyse a deeper split of Harry, Harry Styles™️, and how much control artists at that level actually have over their career. And it is a real shame that this is what it’s come to. And so many Larries turned into solos, and with Harry and Louis acting quite outspoken in very opposite ways, it’s easy to see the split of fans leaning one way or the other. But, I don’t like to see this kind of anger towards the boys themselves. Get angry at the industry. Fight the belly of the beast.

#anon #answered #louisisalarrie chats #anyway sorry this is a ramble #but #the og post was a ramble too so I feel like I’m excused #anyway #yeah #let me know if anything needs clarifying

4 notes · View notes

voyeursfavourite · 5 months

Text

Welcome to my blog! Basic overview, with more detailed information under the cut.

-You can call me Arc, I use he/it pronouns and I am 27 years old. I am a trans man who is pre op but has been on T for a short time.

-Switch, discovering my dominant side lately generally speaking

-Married! 💚 (His tag is 💙!)

-I DO NOT SEND PHOTOS I DO NOT SEXT. Anons will be answered generally though, but know I DONT belong to you and never would.

-Character based erp (as in I am not roleplaying myself and you are not roleplaying yourself, but characters we invent) is absolutely welcome though

-DM's are Open!

-Hard limits are incest/fauxcest, bathroom stuff, beastiality (anthro and monsters are ok), raceplay and ageplay.

-Top kinks include blackmail (sub leaning), forced impreg (either), dehumanization (sub), monsterfucking (either), rope bondage (either), blindfolds* (sub) CNC (either) pupplay (dom) and ovipo (either). I am exploring several others which may appear.

*See under the cut for more details

-Cameras in general, being recorded, stalked or watched are major turn ons.

Further information below

* I have religious beliefs tied up in sight, vision and knowledge. Because of this very personal belief system, blindfolds are a very blasphemous kink generally, and will be tagged as #blasphemy for organizational purposes. That is, 100%, part of the appeal. If you're curious about my beliefs I may be happy to share, but due to them being influenced by popular media, I will censor these discussions heavily to keep them out of the fandom tags. This too, is blasphemy in a way. Fun little feedback loop. Because of the nature of my beliefs, voyeurism is sort of part of the package. That is what my url is referring to- I am a favoured follower. A lot of this is somewhat tied up in, for lack of a better word, "religious play", though i wouldnt personally call my beliefs a religion per say.

I am married, and married to another trans man. I am not going to cheat on him nor will I ever. If you try to get me to, I will block you. Fuck off.

Fear play is a massive portion of my kink practice, and I like to be made afraid.

On the dominant side, I am not looking for new subs, but I am trying to learn more about this part of me. Do not under any circumstances refer to me as daddy or similar titles, hard limit.

More may be added as time goes on, because I am always learning more about me and my kink practices.

3 notes · View notes

myers-meadow · 6 months

Note

I'm definitely more a fan of spawn Astarion myself. I can certainly understand why Ascended Astarion is appealing to others and far be it from me to stop them. Besides, media of all kinds is a way to explore thoughts, feelings, and dynamics in a safer and more controlled way (that isn't to say that media can't have negative effects, as it absolutely can, but that's a separate discussion I don't have the mental bandwidth to go into). You can walk away from the piece of media if you want/need to. For me, I personally see a romance with an Ascended Astarion as one that is or will eventually become unhealthy in one or more ways (I honestly thought that it was a good portrayal of enablement). I also understand that these elements are what many others find compelling about it. I'm rambling now and worry that I'm ultimately unequipped to continue on this particular tangent without fumbling it and/or coming across as haughty or pretentious (I'm admittedly already anxious about that with what I have wrote), so I'm just going to end it here and nervously await your reply.

i understand, that's fair! We both love Astarion, even if we prefer a different end to the story we've personally been building with our Tav/Durge throughout the course of the game. That love for the character is what connects us and is more important than our differences.

I understand why you see A!A as enablement, but in my case, with my Tav, there's not such clear dynamic. I'm not arguing that it's never unhealthy or that your take is wrong! Just trying to explain where I'm coming from. The story I've created is still a bit of a tragic one, but the relationship isn't unhealthy or toxic in such a way.

I've always liked villains. My old masterlist has characters on it that are arguably way worse, morally speaking, than Astarion. I love when villains have fun being evil and are unapologetic about who they are. Astarion and Raphael fall very nicely under this category 💜.

Even though A!A feels all powerful and invulnerable, that's only gonna last him so long, and after that, I do see him heal, bit by bit, in a messy, non-linear, imperfect manner. The difference w spawn is that he's not forced by circumstance (having to give up his dream of ascension, the disappointment, missing the sun, lacking the group of misfits as greater support net etc...) to do that healing on any timeline but his own. Halsin also took a good century to heal, and Astarion can too.

I'll spare you the long ramblings about my tav! It's on my list to write about her and her polymance, and as I was compasing this ask in my head, I came up with three more scenes to write😅.

To end this, we've both played the game with the same spawn Astarion as our companion for the first 2 (and half) acts. Please don't worry your anxious self over this 🫂, I'm not taking offense. Your opinions are valid, worth hearing and i'm glad we find enjoyment in the same game and characters🥰🧡.

Xoxo

Ps I look forward to getting to ~tail ask~ after Ostara! ^^

#Ask #Anon #Stray cat anon

2 notes · View notes

monstrousgourmandizingcats · 1 year

Text

Otherside Picnic volume 8 thoughts, in no particular order:

I have to say I'm on based and "Tyranny of Structurelessness"-pilled Kozakura's side over against Benimori's. I get that that isn't necessarily the narrative's perspective, and I've read (and translated!) Miyazawa interviews where he says he sees a lot of the more conventional or assimilationist perspective in American gay media and doesn't quite understand the appeal, but oh well, I am American and in this case I guess it shows. I respect what Miyazawa is going for with this story, and I'm pretty sure that's reciprocated since he made a fan favorite character the main advocate for the more assimilationist stance.

Bogus Shaman Migiwa you will always be famous!!!! People who have discussed the guy on Otherside Picnic Discord with me will know all about my OC who's Migiwa's utterly normal boyfriend, a chef who has to listen to him rant every day about the incredibly dense twenty-year-old lesbians he's somehow ended up working with. And now we know that this guy has to put up with his boyf grousing about how Juan Matus turned out to be full of shit, too. Sad!

Todate and Hana I fear are not long for this series, but really, isn't leading a full and contented life and then dying under fundamentally inexplicable circumstances the "good" outcome for people's real lives anyway?

I honestly don't have a ton of sympathy for any of the people or movements involved in the "Catherine MacKinnon personally ruined my life" part of Toriko's backstory, other than Toriko herself. It's a testament to how much Sorawo has grown and how well she's come to know Toriko that she can read between the lines and see that Toriko isn't actually fully okay with how isolated that time in her life made her and how much she had to pingpong back and forth between different accommodations because her parents prioritized work over her living situation.

Tsuji is hilarious. Oh, a femme-y goth self-described witch/magician who's also a museum professional? You mean like half a dozen people I know personally? Do Miyazawa and I share some of the same mutuals?

Akanatsu Real, but we knew that already.

#otherside picnic #urasekai picnic

10 notes · View notes

chellyfishing · 7 months

Text

So I’m on the last book in the villains & virtues trilogy by AK Caggiano which I am absolutely loving and I just real quick wanted to talk about something the author has been doing that I think is so cool and I’m putting it under a cut mostly because it’s sexual in nature (oblique references to SA also):

The conceit of the book is that we have our villainous bad boy, “Damien Maleficus Bloodthorne” (these books are VERY self-aware) and a good girl named Amma, and they are forced together by The Circumstance and despite initially clashing they end up developing feelings for each other.

In the first two books we learn about a villain Amma knew in her previous life before meeting Damien, and while it’s never discussed explicitly or any amount of detail, the two had a sexual relationship that was dubiously consensual at absolute best (that’s the “person who treated her like an object” mentioned above), and there’s a scene in which he outright attempts to force himself on her. That guy is from the jump unequivocally a villain. He is charming to others but in private he is cruel and violent with Amma and we want him gone.

With Damien, however, she’ll frequently find herself in situations where he has to boss her around or tie her up (honestly one of my favorite scenes, it’s so funny) and she realizes she’s actually super into it. And here finally the author really highlights why this is surprising and puzzling to Amma: why is it okay with Damien when it wasn’t before?

And the reason is because by the time Amma has become attracted to Damien, she knows she is safe. She knows, for example, that when he ties her up he’s not really tying her up, she’s not in real danger, but illusion of it is there, and that’s what she finds thrilling. A man actually being controlling and domineering, a man who disregards her boundaries and lack of consent, is terrifying and horrible. A man she knows by this point is actually kind, will not hurt her (…not like that anyway), will not force himself on her, is actually very appealing even (especially) when he’s being a little rough with her.

Damien has the ability to literally force (via magic) Amma to do things but when he does this, it’s a violation. She doesn’t like it at all and the closer they get the less and less he uses it until he stops all together. But if he tells her what to do without the magic word, with her knowing she can refuse without being retaliated against, then it becomes fun and sexy.

Anyway I’ve just never seen an author really do something so deliberate and pointed like this before when it comes to ideas of danger and control in romance! She likes being dominated but in a safe and consensual way and when it’s not those things it’s portrayed as bad and horrible because it is! I love it!!

I recommend these books very much, they are so fun and funny, but I hasten to add that you shouldn’t expect explicit sex. Just as The Circumstance brought them together, it also keeps them arm’s length apart. The tension is real but there’s very little acting on it, though they get close occasionally. Mostly it’s just been a little kissing. I guess it would be classified as a slow burn? But I’m just realizing maybe I don’t know what that means? They haven’t smashed by the beginning of the third book is what I’m getting at, just a little kissing and some PG-13 tension and longing. He did say the word cock and where he’d like to put it at one point.

#deep thoughts

6 notes · View notes

acacia-may · 1 year

Note

Hello there! Not a request, I was just wondering. You love Jerza, I saw that, but when you first watched Fairy Tail, did you first shipped Erza with Simon shortly before it was with Jellal? Because that happened to me and while I love Jerza, I loved Simon too and I wouldn't have mind at first if he ended up with Erza. But well, he died tragically pretty soon and Jellal got his redemption, so...

Hello! Thank you so much for the ask! 🥰 Aww...poor Simon! Bless his heart. 💕 He was such a good person, and I really loved his character. I've been rewatching some of the Tower of Heaven arc recently and really remembering just how wonderful he was. 🥺 I can definitely see the appeal of a Simon and Erza ship. He had a lot of genuine care and devotion for her which is very sweet, and I think that the sacrifices that he made for her are incredible and very admirable.

Overall, I agree with a lot of what you said, and, like you, I also would not have minded if he and Erza had ended up together (if circumstances were different and that's what they both decided they wanted for themselves). However, I wouldn't say I shipped that first, for a couple of reasons which I'll discuss under the cut because of spoilers.

(Warnings: Spoilers for Fairy Tail).

(1) I didn't experience Fairy Tail in what I would I consider the "normal way." I actually watched some of it out of order including the entirity of the Tower of Heaven arc. I also had a lot of spoilers just in general going into the series, one which was that Jerza was an endgame (canon?) ship so I at least figured Jellal was headed towards a some sort of redemption arc somehow even though I had absolutely no clue what was going on with him until (I don't even know...) the Oracion Seis arc? Edolas? Somewhere in there... (Those spoilers would have probably been helpful, but I didn't actually know anything about his arc except that he and Erza would eventually end up together so there was a lot of theorizing and trying to make sense of that). But I think knowing that he would eventually end up with Erza, I gave him more of the benefit of the doubt than I would have otherwise, and I was always really fascinated with Jellal as a character. He was definitely one of the ones I was most interested in, especially early on, but I made a lot of jokes about how I didn't understand him at all.

(2) On kind of this same point, I had a very strange and compartmentalized view of Jellal and kind of saw Jerza as multiple different ships (in a way) because I really had this "there are actually several different people who we think are all Jellal but are not actually the same person" theory. I really ran with that for a while, and my sister and I were actually (jokingly) keeping track of the many different "Jellals." We got up to, I think, 7 or 8 different Jellals in total by a certain point, and we would make jokes about it like: "Oh I could imagine Jellal #6 and Erza together, but Jellal #3 is bad news. I don't ship that!" 🤣 My favorite iteration of Jerza at that point was probably Erza x Jellal #1 (that is the Jellal from Erza's flashbacks/childhood before he was brainwashed and whatever his adult counterpart was, of course). That said, my personal favorites of all of the Jellals (besides Jellal #1) were always Jellal #4 (that's Mystogan) and Jellal #7 (Tiny Mystogan who was such a good big brother to Wendy! So precious! My son!! 💙), but I never shipped Edo!Jellal (Mystogan) with Erza Scarlet. (Now Edolas Jerza is totally different story and I adore that ship but I digress...) Here are some actual screenshots just to give you an idea of what I'm talking about and to prove that I’m not just kidding… 😅😂

(A/N: Clearly some of my theories were incorrect 😂😅)

Of course, ultimately, there were not actually 7 different "Jellals," but I did feel very vindicated when it was revealed that I was at least partially right and that Jellal and Mystogan were in fact two separate people. But I think having this very compartmentalized and fractured view of Jellal as a character made it much easier for me to get behind the idea of Jellal and Erza as a ship (in a very weird way). In most basic terms, it was very much, "I ship her with the good Jellal not the evil one" in my mind because I genuinely thought they were separate people 😂😅 (A/N: I really am a goofball sometimes and my theories can be very out there...)

(3) I am not a usually a big fan of relationships that feel one-sided in general. In this case, for instance, it is clear that Simon has romantic feelings for Erza, but she is still kind of wrestling with these complicated feelings she has for Jellal and dealing with a lot of her own personal trauma that is preventing her from being ready and even wanting to pursue a romantic relationship at that point. That isn't to say that she couldn't have grown to love Simon had he survived, but at that particular moment in their lives (during the Tower of Heaven arc), it really felt like an unrequited love situation to me. It is usually a much harder sell for me to get behind those kinds of ships in general, and it definitely takes a while (much longer than we were given with Simon, unfortunately) if there isn't some (obvious) indication that that other person is at least open to idea of returning that affection. It's usually just a personal preference for me to kind of take a "wait and see" approach with those kinds of ships before jumping on board and actually shipping it. Unfortunately, Simon's arc was cut short, so I didn't really get the time to make up my mind about that ship before the story kind of made up my mind for me (by axing him and removing him as an option). So it is really only upon reflection and looking back that I truly appreciated what could have been between them.

But ultimately, I love Simon, Erza, and Jellal as characters, and I want nothing but good things for them. Obviously what happened to Simon is incredibly tragic, and I think in a certain way, we'll just never know what could have been and there is a tragedy in that. But I think in my mind, I prefer their friendship, and I do have lingering questions about whether or not Erza would have ever returned his romantic interest in her even if he had survived. (I can almost guarantee you, however, that no one would ship that harder than Jellal--my poor little guilt-ridden, self-deprecating boy. I can just see him urging Erza to pursue Simon instead of him because he is the type of man who is worthy of her (at least in Jellal's eyes). That said, I do not like love triangles/shapes so I am actually kind of glad this didn't happen).

Thank you so much for the ask and for indulging my ramblings! Please feel free to drop by any time with any more Fairy Tail questions. I've definitely got a bit of brain rot for it at the moment! Cheers!! 💖

#fairy tail simon #erza scarlet #jellal fernandes #jerza #jellal x erza #simon x erza #fairy tail thoughts #answered anons #acacia's ramblings #thank you for the ask

9 notes · View notes