#does anyone even cannonically speak his name in the game????

[nucarnivalincorrectquotes]

Gotta clarify that if it has an h it makes an aspiration sound, much like the h in the word hue (haha see what I did there)

[anyarose011]

Et tu, Brute?

Pairing: Emperor Geta x Reader x Lucius

Summary: You went by many different names: "Rome's Delight", "The Woman with the Golden Mouth", "Geta's Favorite Whore", and "Julia". None of these were your true name; all used just to dehumanize you as nothing more than a slave. When the General Acacius returns from conquering Numidia, and you meet one of the slaves that was brought from the bloodshed, you hope to reclaim not just your freedom...but power along with it.

Part 1 of 2 (Masterlist)

Warning(s): Depictions of rape and SA [not shown], slavery, cannon typical violence, minor Stockholm Syndrome, major character deaths, historical inacuracy [but I tried my best to make it somewhat accurate] and Spoilers for Gladiator II

I saw this movie once, watched Game of Thrones at the same time, and cranked out a story where you, the reader, know how to play "The Game" (but also not because let's keep it kinda realistic) I'm gonna be honest, this might be a hot mess, and I used a script I found online (but Idk how accurate it is). Also, this first part is just mainly story based with the events of the film the SECOND part will focus on reader and Lucius' relationship (including smut, you sluts {I am also slut, don't worry}.

I do want to say though that the depictions of SA are in no attempt to romanticize them. I also decided not to write out the specific scenes because I myself am a survivor, and wanted to focus more on the protagonist's growth. The trauma still affects her story, but I do not want to write rape scenes merely for shock purposes.

Also, if you name is actually "Julia"...no it's not :)

Word Count: 16.1k

It was your own fault, that was what they tried to make you believe.

How dare you not wish to participate in the public baths, how dare you desire to bathe in the place you felt most safe.

Foolish, foolish girl. You were not even safe on your own porch in the house you grew up in.

Your father hadn’t been the wealthiest of merchants, but before he passed into the Elysian Fields after his death that year, he had made a fortune; so much as to buy a bathtub for your house.

If anything, you had bathed at night when you believed no one could see you not for your own modesty, but to prevent anyone from stealing it.

Yet, one particular night, a man had spotted you.

The Emperor Geta of Rome had watched your naked form glisten in the moonlight as you washed the most intimate areas of your body; sighing at the feeling of being clean after the day, only for your soul to feel tainted once morning broken.

Guards had nearly broken the hinges off the front door to your house, and dragged you to the palace. You had lived in that house for your entire life, the same neighbors beside you, yet as you kicked and screamed…none helped.

You had grown tired once in the palace, and the eldest of the twin emperors stood before you. He cupped your chin.

“What is your name, girl?”

You answered him, attempting to speak with venom, but the quaking of your voice betrayed anxiety.

He hummed, repeating your name. “Why are you all alone?”

You huffed. “My mother died in the battle that is childbirth, and my father was lost to an ailment in his loins.”

“You have no brothers?” Geta questioned, his eyes running down your form. “No husband?”

“They called my father strange for leaving me his possessions.”

“He mustn’t have passed on so long ago.”

“Why does the death of my father concern you if you only seek my body?” You questioned.

A smile twisted upon his lips. “Perhaps I like to know my fruit before I devour it.”

And he kissed you.

You had been kissed before, but this was the first time you hadn’t wanted to be. You hadn't expected him to be serious about devouring you. His teeth sank into your chin, then your cheeks, until they were finally upon your lips.

It was the first time, in all your life, you felt your body grow cold and freeze despite his hands wandering over you, pulling at the thin fabric of clothing that covered you.

You fell to the floor, clinging to it desperately as he tried to lead you to his chambers. You had expected him to order one of his men to kill you, or have them carry you…

Instead, he took you right there. He simply lifted his own robes then yours and stole what wasn’t his to take.

All you remembered of that was counting how many pillars were in the room.

You were one of his several concubines. Yet, despite being the newest, you were his favorite.

“Julia,” he whispered to you in the night a month after he had made you his. A month after he had decided to call you by his mother’s name instead of your own. “are you awake?”

You mewled, sitting up. “I am now, my love. What is it?”

Geta smiled, holding out a stack of parchment. “Look at what some of the men found in Carthago.”

You rubbed your eyes as the lamps in his room brightened before looking down at the crudely written words. Geta looked at you in earnest.

“Can you read them?”

A few days prior at him and his brother Caracalla’s birthday festivities, it was revealed that you spoke five languages: Latin, Phoenician, Aramaic, Hebrew, and Greek. Your father had taught you every single one of them to fend for yourself amongst all kind of people.

Now, it was nothing more than a shameless trick Geta used to his amusement.

“Rome’s Cleopatra,” he deemed you in front of the crowd. “the Woman with a Golden Mouth”.

Everyone in that room and all of Rome knew that your ability to speak so many dialects was not the only reason he gave you that title.

Still, as you lay in his bed with crumbling parchment in hands, you forced a tender smile. “Yes, I know what it says. Would you like to know?”

He laid his head in your lap without another word.

Months passed, and he had grown kinder…only when it was night, and even so, that was only when the moon was full.

There wasn’t a day where your body hadn’t ached from the turmoil he put you through. It was hard to discern when he would want you to be small and subservient to him, or confident and commanding in matters of the bed.

The handmaids that were blessed to not be in bed with him would bathe and coddle you as best as they could, for even through your suffering, you tried your best to treat them with kindness.

You didn’t even know who you were after the fourth month of being Geta’s slave.

Gone was the girl who had a peaceful life; there was now the Emperor’s Pet.

General Marcus Acacius returned to Rome after overtaking the kingdom Numidia in the emperors’ names, and it was the first time you were in his presence. It was certainly a surprise that Geta would string you alongside him on personal matters that had nothing to do with sex.

The general would glance at you every so often, and his look of pity felt more violating that any of the times Geta, or his brother, or anyone else in all of Rome had looked at you.

Upon the general’s return, a series of games at the Colosseum were to be hosted, among parties that would last for the remaining week.

The first was at Senator Thraex's home.

“My little Julia,” Geta caressed your cheek as you sat upon his lap in the makeshift throne. “might you fetch me another cup of wine?”

You nodded, taking his cup and kissing his hair. “I shall, my love.”

He ran his fingers down your neck as you got off of him and made your way to the barrels. Yet, as you passed an open door, something caught your eye. Peeking around the somewhat crack in the door, you saw a few men sat in the room, chains around their ankles and their wrists.

One of them, more muscular than the others with brown curls, held his head low. His skin wasn’t as dark as other men from Africa Propria, but not as pale as the Germanic lands.

When his eyes met yours, you saw a pale blueness only seen in the sky on a summer’s day.

Gasping, you hid behind the door for only a moment before looking again. His gaze was still on you. Deciding to end the strangeness of the situation, you spoke.

“I’m sorry.” You apologized.

He said nothing; you tried again.

“I’m sorry.” You said in Greek.

The look in his eyes changed to confusion, but he said nothing.

“Hebrew?” You questioned. “Aramaic? Phoenician?”

“You speak Phoenician?” He asked as if he hadn’t heard it in forever.

You nodded. “I speak five languages.”

“Ah,” he answered in your native tongue to your surprise. “Rome’s Cleopatra.”

Your nose scrunched as if you smelt something rotten. “You understood me the first time?”

“I did.”

“So why not say anything?”

“What am I to say to your pity?”

You hummed. “I do not pity you, I was showing respect.”

He scoffed. “Respect? Am I a man that looks as if I deserve respect?”

“I believe every man deserves respect so as long he is kind.” You glared at him.

The man shook his head, sighing. “You are a foolish child if you believe that men can be kind.”

“I haven’t for quite a while.” you stated. “I pray that it is the hope that kills me.”

He questioned. “And not one of the emperors?”

“What is your name, slave?” You crossed your arms.

He huffed, drawing his eyes away from you and clenching his fists before relaxing them. “Hanno.”

You nodded. “They call me ‘Julia’.”

“But that is not your name.”

It was blistering hot that particular day, but you felt your body run cold; the same cold you felt when Geta…when he first…

“Who says it is not my name?” You challenged.

“You are merely a concubine,” he said. “you are not a part of his lineage, and therefore, your name is not ‘Julia’.”

You do not know why you seethed with so much rage from his words. You did not even spit on him; you merely stomped away from that door, filled up the emperor’s cup, and went back to Geta.

“It took you nearly a millennium to come back, my sweet.” He scoffed yet kissed your bare shoulder. “I was beginning to worry.”

You shook your head, leaning against him as you sat on the arm of the throne. “You mustn’t over me, my love.”

“You seem distressed.” Caracalla teased beside you. “This is a festivity; you should be merry!”

All you did was smile and nod. It was a pleasant change from the parties you were forced to attend in the past; you weren’t the center of attention, and this was the first time Geta dressed you in the bright colors everyone else wore instead of white.

You could pretend you were royalty for a day.

Not so long after you came back, both Thraex and Macrinus, a stable master who traveled far and wide for new gladiators, approached with their own champions to fight.

You were not even at the Colosseum, and yet, violence still had to be played for everyone’s amusement.

Hanno entered from the door you had previously been at, and another man entered from the opposite side of the room. Both were given swords.

“Brother,” Hanno began. “let us not kill each other for their amusement-.”

The other man struck him without hesitation. You had seen fights before, but none like this. It was ruthless, quick yet drawn out. Hanno lost his sword in the middle of it all, leading to him smashing a flowerpot over his opponent’s head.

The fight was still not done, he rose up on his feet and took his sword from the ground, raising it high above him. Hanno, against all odds, knocked him back onto the ground and took the sword just as they both sood, stabbing his opponent in the chest.

A chorus of cheers and groans echoed in the room. Geta arose from his seat, laughing and applauding as you sat there, eyes as wide as they could be at the bloodied sight before you.

“Remarkable! Gladiator, which part of the Empire do you hail from?” He questioned Hanno. Hanno stood stoically, glaring at the emperors before him. Geta tutted, turning to you. “Julia, open your golden mouth and-.”

“-The gates of hell are open night and day.” Hanno interrupted in the common language. “Smooth the descent, and easy is the way: But to return, and view the cheerful skies, in this the task and mighty labor lies.”

Geta smiled. “Ah…a poet!”

The rest of the world fell away as you could not tear your gaze away from the man laying on the floor. If he hadn’t died from his wounds, he would’ve from choking on his own blood.

“-You understand, don’t you?” Geta asked.

You sat in your own personal chambers that night for the first time in a while. You were never overjoyed to be in his bed, but being sent to your own perplexed you.

Then, he simply told you that you were to be General Acacius’ for the night.

“He’s sacrificed so much, my little Julia.” Geta combed his fingers through your hair to soothe you. “I refused him once already; I cannot do so again. Do you understand?”

The emperor had never shared you with anyone. He wasn’t delicate with you, but at least you knew what to expect.

He clenched your jaw. “I do not care to ask you a third time, girl.”

“Yes,” you squeaked. “I understand, Geta.”

Nodding, he softened his hold, leaning his head against yours. “You are still mine alone; I promise, it will only be us after tonight.”

You swallowed thickly. “Okay.”

“There she is.” He kissed your lips before pulling away and standing. “He will be in right away. Do not fret, I told him to be gentle with you.”

Geta left through your chamber doors without another word. There you were, sitting on your bed, draped in silks you should have known were given to you out of lust and not out of kindness. Your eyes trailed to the empty vase on a table beside your bed.

You didn’t know what possessed you that night, but you yanked it off the table, and smashed it on your bed. The handle of the door began to rattle. Quickly pushing the shattered pieces under your bed, you hid a shard behind your back and sat at the head of the bed.

In came General Marcus Acacius, wearing only a thin overshirt that went down to his knees. You’d done this game of seduction many times with Geta, how different could it be for him? Grabbing the bottom of your night dress, you raised it until it bunched up your thighs, revealing your bare center to him.

He took a hitched breath. “My lady-.”

“-What troubles you, general?” You asked then smiled with gritted teeth. You felt your hand begin to ache as you squeezed the vase shard.

Marcus furrowed his brow, and as if he already knew, he said. “Cover yourself and show me what is behind your back.”

Your eyes dropped along with your heart. Still, as his face turned into a scowl, you cooperated. Handing him the shard and quickly pulling your dress back down, you spoke with intensity.

“If you will not stab me before you rape my corpse, then I shall throw myself from the nearest window and allow the people of Rome to defile me. I will not lie on my back and take it anymore.”

He took a deep breath, holding the sorry excuse for a weapon in his hand. “It is unwise to tell the enemy your plans.”

…What?

“It would serve you greatly to control the faces you make before harming a man as well. Yet, above all,” He held the shard out to you. “your enemy is not afraid to kill you; you should feel the same.”

“Why do you tell me this?” You asked, still not believing it.

Marcus sat up. “I believe we can help each other, my little dove.”

“How?”

He lowered his voice. “You have heard of the gladiator Maximus, his dream of a free Rome, yes?”

“Yes.”

“A dream that cannot be obtained from the rule of two emperors.” He lamented. “My wife and I, along with several others, plan…to fulfill our shared dream.”

They were going to overthrow Geta and Caracalla.

“What gives you reason to believe I won’t say a word of this to them?” You asked.

He smiled for the first time since you’d seen him. “That freedom belongs to you.”

“I…I’m still lost. How will I be of any use?”

“Emperor Geta favors you considerably. He is a man, and not a cunning one at that. There are ways to wear foolish men down.”

You nodded, beginning to understand. “There’s always a woman.”

“There’s always a woman.” He solidified. “Gain the trust of the public; make them love you, and they will not see the emperor’s whore but a woman of the people.”

“And how will that dethrone them?

He smiled. “My wife and I will meet with the counsel tomorrow night. I will send for you.”

You scoffed. “Geta said that after tonight I am just his alone.”

“Then I’ll refuse to give him Persia and India.”

“He’ll have your head.” You berated. “Besides, I don’t think he’d believe my cunt would be worth two countries.”

Marcus shrugged. “Considering he only wants you to himself, I have no doubt that it is worth that much. But I am unable to confirm it.”

You sighed. “Even if he’ll allow it, he’ll send a guard with me.”

“I am not one to invite a third into the bedroom.”

“Then where shall-?”

“-Little dove,” he interrupted. “the city was not built in a day, therefore it cannot be emancipated in one.”

Gods help and forgive you for being impatient on wanting to be free. Still, you composed yourself. “Alright.”

He nodded, standing up. “I will be seeing you on the morrow, one way or another.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

“For what, child?”

You swallowed thickly, avoiding his gaze. “Not forcing yourself upon me.”

Marcus’ face softened, and he lowered himself to your height as you sat on the bed. He took your face into his hands, and you immediately tensed when his face drew closer to yours.

“Don’t be afraid,” he whispered. “it’s not that kind of a kiss.”

With a tenderness that reminded you of your father, he placed his lips on your forehead and pulled away. Giving you one last knowing nod, he promptly left your chambers.

You wanted to do nothing more than shed tears of happiness, yet for no reason at all, you could not cry.

Your father had only taken you to the Colosseum to watch mock animal hunting. Even when your friends invited you to watch gladiator fights or other public executions, he had found ways of making you stay far away from them.

There was a strange humor in sitting in the best chair for your very first gladiator duel. That being in the front as Emperor Geta ran his hand up and down your back.

In utter honestly, you tried to stray your attention away from the fights, speaking more with Caracalla of all people. He was more erratic than Geta by far, and it was more difficult to tell when he would be kind one moment, then out for blood the next.

Yet at least he was open about being cruel, unlike his brother.

When you would watch the fights…a familiar face seemed to catch both you and the general’s wife’s, Lucilla, eye.

The man with light skin yet hailed from Numidia…Hanno.

You hadn’t recognized him at first, for it wasn’t his mere presence that drew you to finally look at the event before you. No, it was the way he fought.

Most men previously had attacked with brute force; just stabbing the beast and hoping it would die. Hanno fought with wit. Simply using the sand beneath his feet as an advantage, blinding and tricking the rhinoceros to run directly into the wall.

He was cunning…he commanded the men beside him as if it weren’t the first time he’d done so in his life.

Then, when it came to deciding his fate when all seemed lost…Geta turned to you.

“My love,” he played with a strand of your hair. “shall I show the poet mercy, or bloodshed for your entertainment?”

Even if it weren’t Hanno, your answer would have been the same. “Mercy.”

As a hush fell over the crow, Geta rose his thumb up, sparing him. As cheers erupted, Hanno shook his head.

“No, no mercy.”

Geta furrowed his brow. “Gladiator, we have spared your life. No one refuses-.”

“-I would sooner face your blade than accept Roman mercy!”

Thus, the fight continued. An act of defiance…Peculiar…Quite peculiar.

Both you and Marcus were correct about the night; Geta did indeed allow you to go to the general’s house, but only if you were escorted by a trusted guard. When you arrived, Marcus immediately draped you in a cloak, practically covering your face and had excused as not wanting the staff to tell his wife of who he was bringing into their house.

Marcus led you into his chambers, and there you saw two people. Apparently, they weren’t even apart of the counsel; simply paid to pretend to be both you and the general as the guard would listen outside, assume it was the two of you fucking.

He had certainly thought through every little detail.

Marcus pushed on a stone in his chambers, revealing a hidden door. You had only heard of these within stories, and as he led you down the darkened passage with only a torch in one hand, and the other holding yours, you had never felt more alive since your past life had been stolen.

You were welcomed to a room filled with dozens of the senate you had passed by in the palace. How strange it was to see them all huddled into a dimly lit room, plotting the demise of the men they initially swore to serve.

An arm looped through yours, and it was Lucilla. She whispered into your ear.

“Whatever you have to say, speak it to me, and I shall speak to them.”

You turned. “Why must I not speak for myself?”

“I only allowed you to be here if Marcus agreed to not let your voice be heard.”

“What?”

“I will explain more to you soon after, I vow it.”

Thus the meeting began. In all truthfulness, you were only able to understand the bare minimum: In a few days’ time, Marcus would lead five-thousand men into Rome to overtake the thrones of the empire, and thus destroy them, restoring the Roman Republic.

When the conversation turned to you, you were merely referred to as an informant who had the closest relationship to the emperor.

It still perplexed you as to why you needed to remain anonymous; there was an excellent chance they would know you as ‘Geta’s Favorite Whore’.

Yet, you did your best to inform the counsel of a plan you had simply created on the spot (they did not need to know the latter part of it).

You would gain more favor from the public, while at the same time, putting Geta’s worries to rest about any uprising or dislike from the majority of the empire.

How you would do that…it was fortunate that they didn’t ask you to give specifics.

Once the meeting ended, you were taken back up from the secret passage, yet instead of going back to the chambers, you felt Lucilla take your hand and lead you down another path.

You couldn’t even get a sound out before she said. “It is alright; he knows I want to speak with you in private. We will not take long.”

She led you up into the bath area of the house. It was quite beautiful; the tub wasn’t made of porphyry, but that did not make it any less exquisite. There was something about it being lesser of the baths you’ve had in the palace. It wasn’t entirely reminiscent of the one you had at home…

But you felt safer.

Lucilla had been gentle in pulling off your robes, and never once did it feel wrong. You were a woman and so was she. She never pulled or scratched your skin, and you knew that she only felt sorrow when she gazed upon the bruises and wounds you had received from Geta.

“How long have you been at the palace?” She questioned as she carded herbs through your hair.

You glanced at her, sighing. “I’ve stopped counting…months, I know.”

“Were you forced to leave any family? Brothers, sisters, children?”

“No. My mother died birthing me, and my father was taken half a year ago to an ailment emperor Caracalla also suffers from.”

She hummed. “Have you ever been in love?”

You laughed the most genuine laugh ever since you became a slave. “Why on earth would you ask that?!”

“I am merely curious!” She teased. “You are truly beautiful, and there is no doubt that men would throw themselves off cliffs for you; but it matters most of who you would choose.”

Her question scraped your mind. There had been times you were fond of, even lusted over, men both your age and older…but love? The only one you experienced would be storge; perhaps philia…but eros? Agape?

“I don’t think I have been.” You answered. “Have you?”

She nodded, a forlorn look in her eyes, but smile upon her mouth. “Twice.”

“Twice?” You couldn’t help the nervous giggle that left your throat. “It can happen twice?”

“It’s possible, yes.”

“And who have you willingly fell captive to?”

“Marcus is the most recent, though there are days I do not understand what he sees in me. Then…the father of my child.”

Lucilla poured water upon your head to wash out the soap in your hair, and a silence fell over both of you. One that was broken when you spoke a name.

“Lucius…”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“He-he had gone missing all those years ago, hadn’t he?”

“He had.” She ran the bar of soap over the top half of your body. “I believe he must’ve been around your age when he ran away.”

“And there hasn’t been any sign of him since?”

“No.” She answered right away.

You curled into yourself. “I apologize if I upset you my lady-.”

“-No. I…I love talking about him.”

You managed a gentle smile to soothe her. “What was he like?”

“Headstrong.” She chuckled. “Wanted to become a gladiator more than anything in the world. Yet, he was gentle, and kind as well. He…I believe he would’ve adored you.”

You shook your head. “Maybe when we were children, but I don’t think so now.”

“It’s hard to judge.”

Whilst the air between you turned into more intimate topics, the question that had weighed on your mind was brought to light. “Why did you not allow me to speak or show my face tonight?”

Lucilla stopped her ministrations. You looked up at her, and the look she wore bore an exhaustion that you had felt recently.

“I know too well the cruelties of men.” She began softly. “My brother had done everything to keep me from ever resisting him…he had done everything. I had only wished for someone to be there with me at every moment when I faced his abuse.”

Words; simple words that meant everything to you was what made you weep.

There was no warning at all. Once she was finished, tears sprang to your eyes, and you felt your sinus clog up. Even as you tried to tear yourself away from her comfort, she merely wrapped her arms around you in an embrace from a mother you had never felt.

“I don’t want to go back.” You begged. “Please don’t let me.”

She kissed your hair. “I’m so sorry.”

“No!” You sobbed. “I-I don’t want to! Please, please, you can’t make me. I-I-I-!”

Lucilla shushed you, rocking you back and forth. “Do not weep. You will be free beside all of Rome, and the past months of your life will be nothing more than a distant, horrible dream.”

You pulled away just enough to look at her. “You-you must promise me something.”

“My child-.”

“-Promise me and I shall help you overthrow them until my last dying breath!”

She stared for a moment before nodding. “Yes. What is it?”

Your lip quivered. “When I die, you must bind my legs with chains or ropes when you bury me. I have,” you whimpered. “I have been told of men who dig up the bodies of girls and…”

Lucilla kissed your forehead before holding you once more. “I vow I will honor your wishes.”

All you could do was believe her.

There were more times than not the Emperor Geta would talk about filling you with his seed as he bedded you. You never were able to discern if he was serious about wanting to give you a child (they would be his, not yours).

It all became too real when you didn’t bleed that month.

Yet, you also did not feel sick in the morning, and your breasts hadn’t swelled. You still had urinated on wheat seeds for several weeks, but they had not sprouted.

You weren’t with child…yet there was nothing stopping you from convincing Rome you were. It would certainly be a risk; for there was no telling how Geta would react. But that was a risk you were willing to take.

Once a week, you were allowed to go outside the palace during the day, and you had chosen then to venture out into the numerous markets. It was nice to speak with the merchants you knew from your childhood. Some were elders who would watch over you when your father was busy, others were friends who had grown up with you.

“Now what would a little empress want with commoner’s food?” A man’s low timbre voice asked behind you.

Turning your head, you saw Macrinus standing before you with a curious grin. You mirrored it. “That’s not an appropriate title for me.”

“Ah, you are correct.” He nodded. “My apologies, ‘Lady with The Golden Mouth’. Or do you prefer ‘Rome’s Delight?’.”

“You may call me whatever you wish if you’d like.” You forced a laugh and turned back to the merchant you had known since you were a babe. “I’ll take a sack of wheat and small bag of garlic, Gaius.”

“Of course, lady Julia.”

Not even a childhood friend could say your real name. A tight smile formed upon your lips when he turned to sack the wheat before you. Macrinus spoke again.

“You still didn’t answer me about why you’re exactly here.”

“I am not an empress.” You turned to him. “I am not a queen from another realm, I am not even a lady. I am a lowly whore that was fortunate enough to be chosen by the emperor. I like to keep my own schedule from before, so I am aloud to bake my own bread.”

He hummed. “Is that so?”

“Yes.”

Gaius handed you the sack of wheat and garlic, and you held out three silver coins. He shook his head. “No, just a copper-.”

“-Please.” Was all you said.

He hesitated, then took them from you, smiling. “May Fortuna rain a thousand blessings upon your head.”

“And unto you as well.” You curtsied and turned on your heel to leave.

Macrinus walked beside you. “How generous you are.”

“I try to be.” You decided to change the topic. “You are in charge of Hanno, are you not?”

“I certainly am, why do you ask?”

“Just out of interest.” You shrugged. “There is talk of him being similar to the one Maximus from years ago. Many admire him already and it has only been a day.”

Macrinus laughed. “It is my duty to entertain the people. I noticed though that you are more prudish of the games.”

“I must admit, I am not used to the violence.”

“A sheltered girl?”

“Ashamedly so.”

“There is no shame at all. So, it is the Numidian that has captured your affection?” He teased. “How scandalous for the young empress to fall for a slave.”

You chuckled. “Nothing of the sort, I just find him amusing.”

“Oh, I am more than happy to let you see him alone if you ever so desire. You don’t need to wander upon him at another party.”

Your carefree air fell once he asked that. “I don’t know what you-.”

“-It’s alright.” He interrupted. “There’s nothing wrong with being curious, I am only concerned for your own safety.”

You stood taller, a shy smile upon your lips. “I am capable of taking care of myself, sir.”

“Of course my lady, why else would you be out here in the streets of commoners without a chaperone?”

Purposefully, you turned onto one of the crowded piazzas where the music and laughter was the loudest. You grinned from ear to ear.

“Oh please, don’t tell me you volunteered yourself to keep me safe.”

He laughed. “No, just wanted to say hello.”

You didn’t have time to respond, as one of the performers had recognized you. Ah, a girl that lived in the house across from yours when you were children! You still remembered her name, and after you passed your belongings to Macrinus, she pulled you into the circle of performers, dancing with you.

You laughed the most you had that year; in fact, you swore your bruised your ribs just from the sheer joy you felt. You don’t know how long you danced and sang with those who were your neighbors and friends, but just as you felt your feet begin to give out, Macrinus put his hand on your shoulder.

“I believe you should go back to the palace and rest.”

Nodding, you said farewell to your companions and took the bag of wheat and garlic back from him. “You are right, thank you so much.”

He grinned. “Let me escort you back.”

“No,” you walked ahead of him. “I wish not to bother you anymore. Good day, Macrinus!”

You lost yourself in the crowd, purposefully making it harder for him to follow. Once you were in the palace, you rushed into the kitchen, holding the sack of wheat behind your back, you greeted the cooks and snuck into the small pantry. You set the sack down on a shelf and pocketed two single reeds, along with an onion.

That night, Geta had called you into his chambers. Before going, you had cut the onion and brought it to hover around your eyes. You were crying by the time you were at his door. Immediately, he took notice of your reddened eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

“What is it, what’s wrong?”

You shook your head, only crying more. It was less because of the onion now, and just everything coming down crashing onto your shoulders once more. Geta pulled you into his chambers by your shoulders, sitting you on the bed.

“Tell me now what is bothering you.” He commanded.

You shook your head. “I-I can’t-.”

“-Now, Julia!”

Taking a deep breath, you reached into the pocket of your breast, taking out the two reeds and setting it in his hand. He furrowed his brows.

“I do not understand.”

You took a deep breath. “The handmaids have given me wheat and barley seeds ever since I have arrived. If they grow, then that means…that means I am with child.”

The look on his face spoke it all. You were certain you were dead.

“I-I didn’t know how you would feel, and-and so I-.”

He crushed you in an embrace, attaching his lips to your jaw. “Jupiter has blessed me.”

It was the first time you felt happiness in his presence. Of course, not because of him, but still joy. You returned his embrace, sighing in relief. “You are happy?”

“Happy?” He pulled away, holding your face in his hands. “There is nothing in this world that could sadden me right now. I will have an heir.”

As long as it was a boy (if it were real at all).

You feigned your smile and leaned into his touch. “I am fortunate to give you one.”

“And I am most fortunate to have you.” He laid down and brought you with him.

Perhaps, in another life, he was kind to you and didn’t only value you until you gave him a child. Perhaps you would be in love with him, and he would make you empress

But you weren’t fortunate to be born into that fantasy.

You wished nothing more than to sit with Marcus and Lucilla as you made your way into the emperor’s booth of the Colosseum. The three of you had managed to speak to one another, but only about meaningless things. Still, you just enjoyed their company.

 It would be more exciting that day. A naval battle, the Naumachia. The arena was filled with water and sea creatures you could never even possibly imagine. It was a wonder in and of itself how all the ships managed to fit themselves in the arena.

“Caracalla,” you said to the brother beside you as you were about to take your seat. He looked up upon hearing his name. You handed him the bag filled with garlic. “I finally found some for you.”

He grinned from ear to ear. “And you say that if I mix this with myrrh, I shall be cured?”

“It should treat the lesions on your skin.” You corrected. “This is what I did for my father.”

He died of the same ailment, but Caracalla didn’t ask; simply smiled. “Thank you, dear sister.”

You nodded, sitting down on the arm of Geta’s throne that would have put you in the middle of him and his brother. He wrapped his arm around you.

“You’ve been far kinder these days.” Geta pointed out.

“Perhaps that means I’ll be the most agreeable mother.” You jested, kissing his cheek.

He smirked, and as the man on the far end of the Colosseum began to announce the games, Geta stood up and rose his grail.

“I would like to propose a toast!” He yelled. The crowd fell silent, and you felt your skin crawl away from you. Geta continued. “To the health of wives and to mothers. Especially to my lover, Julia, who carries my son the moment as we speak!"

An eruption of applause and cheers filled the stadium. You blushed upon the praise, and genuinely wanted to hide yourself from the gaze of everyone; especially the ones closest to you. You could feel both Marcus and Lucilla’s eyes on you, attempting to hide their shock and perhaps horror. The worst was that of Macrinus.

He knew. Just from the look of him (or perhaps it was your own paranoia), but he had to have known from the moment you bought the wheat.

Still, they all applauded, and ones the excitement of your supposed pregnancy died down, the enthusiasm for the battle was born.

It was perhaps the one event you could stomach. While you could still clearly see men dying, it wasn’t as horribly bloody as the prior. Were you becoming numb to the cruelty of these games because you were pretending…or were you letting the game invade your head?

As several ships collided within the growing chaos, men would either die from their fellow man or would simply fall into the water and be devoured by beasts you had never seen until then. Your eyes had been following Hanno the whole time, whether purposefully or not.

Words could not describe the terror that had been brought upon you as you saw him aim his crossbow at the booth you sat in.

You did not think the arrow would pierce you, but it did. It longed into your right shoulder, and a cry you had no idea you were capable of making tore through your throat.

Tears blinded your vision, but the screams from the whole arena deafened your ears you could not even hear what Geta was saying to you.

You could barely make out Marcus’ in front of you as he snapped the body of the arrow and then hoisted you into his arms. You’d never been carried like this as a woman; only as a child by your father.

The heat of Rome felt hotter that day as the pain in your shoulder only grew tighter and tighter as if your skin was going to stretch away from you. The next thing you knew, you were laid upon a cold, solid surface, and sound returned to your ears.

“It’s alright, you’re alright.” Geta shushed, brushing your hair. “You’ll be okay.”

Someone stuck their fingers into your wounded shoulder, and you could only scream. A tender hand laid itself on your cheek, and just from touch alone, you knew it was Lucilla.

“Do not touch her!” Geta hissed, swatting her away.

“No, no!” You whined, reaching out and holding onto her.

Lucilla dropped to her knees, kissing every part of skin that was available, mumbling. “I know, I know. This too shall pass, you are stronger than you believe, my dear.”

Then, just like that, you felt the arrowhead leave your body. The pain was still excruciating beyond belief, but all that was left was for your arm to be wrapped in cloth, and to rest.

One of the guards in charge of the gladiators approached you when you were finally able to sit up.

“My lady,” he began. “did you happen to get a look at the man who shot you?”

“She’s only starting to recover!” Geta snapped. “How dare you. She carries my child, and-!”

“-It’s alright, Geta.” You soothed.

You could’ve done it. Told him with full confidence that it was Hanno. There would have been your chance of power; to kill the man who had nearly killed you.

Yet…you were vindictive and wanted to do it yourself.

“I have no memory.” You told him. “It happened so fast.”

How horrible it is that Geta would stop forcing you to pleasure him only when you were supposedly with his child and injured. You assumed that if you were suffering from only one of those ailments, than he still would’ve held you down and used you.

You thought nothing else would happen that night. You would simply speak to one another, pretending to be completely enamored by his existence, and then lie down to sleep.

Of course, that would be too peaceful.

You were awoken gently, to your surprise, by Geta shaking you. Humming, you rubbed your eyes. “What is it?”

“The general and his whore wife.” He gritted his teeth. “They planned to kill us.”

You shot right up, forgetting about your injured shoulder, and let out a cry. Geta helped you stand, and that was when you saw Caracalla standing before you, his monkey companion Dundus perching upon his shoulder.

“How-how do we know?” You stammered, not having to feign your terror.

Neither of them answered, and the three of you were led out into the throne room. There before you in their night clothes just as you were, Lucilla and Marcus.

Geta approached them first, seething. “The honor, the dignitas that Rome has bestowed upon you. All this you have forfeited by your treachery. Thanks to the civic virtue of men like Macrinus and Thraex your insurrection has been revealed-.”

 “-Torture me if you want,” Marcus shook his head. “but please, don’t lecture me.”

Geta’s face turned almost as red as his hair. “Your name and deeds will be forgotten, lost to history! You are damned to oblivion!”

“You damn me?” He laughed. “I don’t care. Everything is forgotten in time. Empires fall… and so do Emperors.”

Caracalla rose from his seat, reaching for his brother’s sword. “Why wait? I'll gut him right now!”

Geta grabbed onto him. “Brother! Brother! His death must be public.”

“Public, yes. Hang his entrails from the city gates!” He pointed at Lucilla. “Crucify her!”

“No!”

All eyes fell on you after your outburst. Even you froze in place, feeling bile begin to rise up within you. Geta let go of Caracalla. “‘No?’ You say? What would you have me do then?”

Swallowing thickly, it was hard to speak as tears began to fall. You held your stomach. “Crucifixion is…it’s…”

His face dropped into a scowl. “You aren’t saying I should let them live, are you?”

“No-!”

“-Then which is it?!”

Your voice fell silent as your chest constricted, and you could barely breathe. Your mouth would move, but nothing came out; not even strangled noises of desperation.

“If I may, your grace,” Macrinus stepped forward. “I believe she means to bring equal punishments to the crimes committed.”

Geta furrowed his brow. “I do not know what you speak of.”

“Please, let the rest of them out of the room so I might explain more clearly.’

He considered his words, then turned to his guards. “The criminals to the dungeons, my brother to his chambers, and my love-.”

“-I wish to be alone tonight.” You stated.

The emperor scoffed. “What?”

“The babe.” You began. “I-I have helped many women deliver their children, and what has always caused an early birth is stress. I-I cannot take any-anymore of it, or I fear…”

Finally, he took in the sight of your fearful face. Sighing heavily, he said. “Put my lady in her chambers for tonight.”

“Thank you.” You kissed his hand.

You were led into your own chambers, and once the door was shut, you threw yourself onto your bed and wept. You wept until you were wailing into the night, you wept until your eyes were as red as the sun in the morning, you wept until it hurt to continue to do so…

It was unknown how long you had cried, but the opening of your bedroom door is what alarmed you. Snapping your head over in the direction, you were shocked to see Macrinus.

“The general and his wife’s fate has been decided.” He stated.

You held a pillow to your chest, rubbing your reddened nose. “And what is it?”

“The emperor has chosen to let the gods decide, and Acacius will fight against Hanno tomorrow in the arena.”

“You mean you convinced him to.” You glared.

Macrinus approached you. “May I try some of the bread you have baked, my lady?”

You held no confusion when he asked you that. Surprise, yes; but you knew what he asked. You took a deep breath. “I believe I don’t understand.”

“The wheat you bought only days ago.” He reminded. “You said you would bake your own bread. Surely, you didn’t use it as false proof of you carrying the emperor’s heir?”

You didn’t dare look at him. Even when he laid his hand on our back, rubbing circles over your nightdress. “I wish to help you, my child. You must be willing to help me first.”

That was why he also didn’t alert Geta of your betrayal…unless, he had no idea of your alliance with Marcus and Lucilla.

“What is it that you want?” You asked.

“All in time.” He soothed. “I wish to give you the privilege to speak to someone.”

You finally looked at him, your eyes wide. “General Acacius?”

“No.” He shook his head. “I am unable to escort you to the dungeons below the palace. Yet, I can take you to the pit of gladiators.”

“It is easier for you to take me out of the palace than below it?”

“Take you to the man who nearly overthrew the emperors?” He chuckled bitterly. “Not possible. I cannot grant you the gift to say goodbye, but I can allow you to bargain for his life.”

You blinked. “Hanno?”

“Correct.”

“How can I leave the palace at this hour, after what has just happened?”

“You underestimate the silence men will take when it is weighed in gold.” He tutted. “I can only give you ten minutes with him. Will you go or not?”

You were forced to decide quickly…This could be your chance. He had nearly took your life the other day, and the pain in your shoulder was just a growing reminder of that. If he were dead…there was no way you could overtake him.

Yet, you learned that, in a world of men, you didn’t have to be stronger than them: Only smarter, and faster.

“I will go.”

You had hidden a kitchen knife under your bed the moment you had your own chambers. Geta had gifted you several colorful ribbons he loved to see you wear in your hair. He perhaps did not expect you to tie one around your waist under your gown, securing the knife.

Macrinus led you swiftly from the palace to the gladiator pit, which was thankfully not a long walk. You ignored the stares and intrigued calls from the other men as you treaded the halls. You were stopped by a door. Macrinus didn’t even warn Hanno who stood shirtless in his cell, only opened the door and let you enter.

“I’ll rattle the door when it’s time.” That was all he said and left.

Hanno didn’t even seem alarmed. “And what is Rome’s Delight doing here?”

Your blood boiled upon seeing him, yet you remained calm. “I have come to make a bargain; a plea.”

That was when the puzzlement appeared on his face. “And what is that?”

“The man you will fight tomorrow, you must spare him.”

“Why should I?”

Your grief and despair had made itself known to everyone around you for the past few days; yet, in that cell, only with Hanno as your witness, did he see your rage.

“He is the one who saved my life when you meant to steal it!”

The only change you saw in him was his jaw clenching. Other than that, nothing. “The general?”

You only nodded.

He sighed, brushing past you and shaking the door. “Macrinus!”

“What are you doing?” You hissed.

“I will not have you waste your breath on that man.”

“I will give you anything you desire.”

Hanno faced you. “Then you can deliver his head on a platter for me.”

You gawked as he walked away.  “What have I ever done to you?”

“What?”

“Do you truly hate me that much?!” You turned back to him, getting closer. “Kill the man that is the reason I am still here?”

The last thing you thought you would hear left his lips: A laugh. No, not a genuine one. One that you yourself have released on multiple occasions when you have been in disbelief.

“You truly believe everything that happens is because of you?” He taunted. “Has the emperor been filling your mind with so many delusions of grandeur, you can no longer conceive a world where you are not the center of it?”

“Is it so difficult for you to answer my question because you are a fool, or because you wish to not admit it?” You hardened your tone.

“What is your question, my empress?”

“Why did you shoot me?!”

“The arrow was not meant for you!”

You felt your shoulders drop upon the confession. Your aggression ceased only because of your bewilderment.

“Then who?” You asked.

He backed away. “The general you so wish to defend.”

“Whatever it is that he has done, it can be solved with-.”

“-He murdered my wife.”

Hanno said it so easily. No pain, no rage, nothing. It was a fact, and that was what he wanted you to know.

And how stupid you had been. No one in all of Rome was pure of heart; including Marcus. He was a war general; how could you think he wouldn’t have committed sins against the innocent?

“Why so silent, my lady?” He asked. “Are you in disbelief that he has enemies?”

“I didn’t know that.” You admitted.

“That the general is too a monster, or that he killed the only thing in my life worth living for?”

“And that is your desire?” You prodded. “Take his life so that he may die knowing his wife will be ravaged by wolves?”

When he charged at you, you barely had enough time to reach in your dress and unsheathe your knife. Hanno stopped himself just in time for the tip to kiss his chest. Nothing to cause any more harm than a scratch.

Even though you were not the one hurt, you breathed as if you were. He stared down at you as you shrunk under his gaze, and the two of you remained frozen. That is, until he grabbed both your wrists, and rose them above your head.

“I am only merciful because the general still breathes.” He spoke so only you could hear. “If your bastard of a lover had put him to the sword this night you chose to visit me, you would be dead before you could scream.”

Your nose was an inch from his, that was how close he stood to you. His breath caressed your skin, and you turned away in disgust. He let go of your empty wrist, yet still held the one with the dagger.

“Did you believe you could kill me tonight?” He asked, yet you said nothing. Hanno then brought the dagger to his breastbone, angling it upward. “Do not stab head on; stab up.”

Silence and an iron gaze was your reply.

He then hovered it to the pulse point of his neck. “If you want a quick death, right here; with a thinner blade, preferably.”

Then, he placed the tip just above his brow. “If you need information out of a rat, and you have the stomach to do so, drag it across. It will make the mightiest of men cry like a child in the night.”

“You are clever and a skilled warrior,” you finally said. “what is it you want me to tell you?”

“That you will leave it up to the gods and to me if your general lives or not.”

“But I cannot.” You dared to dig the blade just a little into his skin, and his breath hitched. “My desire for him to live is stronger than for you to die.”

Hanno finally let go of your wrist, and you immediately retracted the knife from his brow. “So do you wish to try again to kill me?”

“I wish for you to show mercy.”

“Mercy?” He questioned. “Mercy upon the man who pillaged my home and killed my wife? Mercy for the one who has made me a slave?”

“I too am a slave and-.”

“-And?!” He cried. “And there is nothing! You are draped in silks whilst I in chains and are bathed in clear waters while I in blood, yet you say we are the same?!”

You swallowed your anger, knowing it would bring you nowhere. “You entertain the horrid creatures of Rome; I am forced to pleasure the emperor. We perform differently, but we are still slaves.”

“You are with child.” He stated. “Will that child also be a slave though the emperor is quick to claim it is his heir?”

The crackling of the torches in the room only added to the fire th in your soul. If not contained correctly, you would surely burn and take him with you.

 “A child…yes.” You relaxed, folding your hands. “A child that I could command to be Geta’s. Perhaps, if I wanted to have the brothers slaughter one another, I could say it belongs to Caracalla. Or, if I despised you anymore than I do at this moment…I could say that it is yours.”

Hanno’s eyes dropped in recognition, saying softly. “You carry an empty womb.”

You nodded. “It is the same as your honor.”

Moments later, the door behind you rattled, and Macrinus spoke even when you didn’t. “The time is up, my little empress.”

You bowed your head to Hanno, curtsying. “Sleep well.”

He said nothing in reply, and you turned on our heel, leaving the cell. You pulled your hood back over your head as Macrinus led you through the darkened streets of the city.

“Did you get what you came for?” He asked.

“No.” Was your immediate reply. “And I do not know truly what I wanted.”

The day was as blistering hot as the others, yet the stare Lucilla gave you as she was being led into the emperor’s viewing box made your blood turn to ice. There was not a hint of wrath upon her face; there was nothing at all.

She already looked as if her soul had been stolen.

“How does your shoulder fair, dear sister?” Caracalla brushed his fingers over your arm.

A watery smile was upon your lips like second nature. “It still aches, but it heals, thank the gods. And your overall health?”

He sighed. “I do not know how much longer I have upon this earth.”

“Do not say such things.” You squeeze his hands. “If the gods will it, you shall live for another hundred years.”

He kissed your hands that held his. “I hope so, my love.”

Your grin fell upon the title, and Geta immediately sat you down on the chair behind him that was beside Lucilla’s. He gave an apologetic look.

“He only grows more confused by the day.” He caressed your cheek. “You are well?”

You were far from it, but you could not say that. “Your son feels better now.”

Geta smiled, lowering his head down to kiss your womb. “He will need all his strength.”

The announcer on the other side of the arena yelled to gain everyone’s attention. “From the vanquished city of Numidia, the victor of three contests in the Colosseum, the barbarian Hanno!”

You watched as he ran up from the pit, sword in hand. On the other side, you watched at they brought in Marcus. You could barely look at his already beaten figure. The announcer continued. “Will challenge General Marcus Acacius for his treason against the lives of the Emperors and the enemy of the State!”

The two approached one another on the sandy field. Even from where you sat, so close to them, you could barely make out the look in their eyes. You assumed their was hatred, but your own eyes must have deceived you, because you swore you saw a hint of regret within Marcus’ own gaze.

You blinked and the battle between the two had begun. It was a different level of insanity at how they fought. Marcus was decades older than Hanno, and yet, there were moments where the Numidian had to keep up with him.

Than, the roles would be reversed.

Blood stained the floor of the Colosseum as they fought. Then, when all feel silent between them, and Marcus could barely stand, his lips moved as he spoke to Hanno, then raised his hand.

He yielded.

The patrons of the arena began to mumble amongst themselves, growing louder and louder. Geta rose to his feet. “Romans! What say you?”

In an instant, choruses begging him to be spared overpowered the few that wanted him to be killed. Geta shut his eyes, raising his hand, and they were silenced.

“The gods have rendered their judgement.”

His thumb pointed downward, and the crowd erupted in dissent. Your heart was forcing itself to beat out of your chest as you could only stare at the sight of Hanno glaring down at the general before him.

He tossed his sword to the side.

You hadn’t even noticed Caracalla stood until you heard him yell. “Kill him, kill him!” Like an angered child.

“Is this how Rome treats its heroes?!” Hanno shouted, staring at the audience all around him and pointing his sword. “If his life has no value, what are yours worth?”

Geta stepped up onto the barrier, balancing between the viewing box and a fifteen-foot drop into the arena. He held his arms out to his side, his sleeves dropping to the ground, and his pale face was red. “The gods have spoken! Kill him!”

From all sides of the stadium, hundreds of archers aimed their bows at the center of the battleground. Yet, none fired. Caracalla jeered.

“In the name of Jupiter, kill him!”

The arrows were released, and they screamed like none other as they fired into the center. As they pierced Marcus’ body, you did not know you had been wailing in fright until Geta had slapped you.

“You mewling cunt!” He cursed. “You wish to weep over the man who nearly had you killed?”

Blood fell upon your tongue from your bruised lip, and you did not dare to look at him nor Lucilla.

“Death will be too good for you!” She cried with all of her heart.

The noise from the crowd died as if the people themselves had done so. Then, just like the confused murmurs when Marcus yielded, the same began to grow and grow into a call of rebellion.

It was all in your ears. Lucilla’s weeping, the curses from the crowd, the panic of the emperors…but you stood absolutely still.

With hooded eyes, they drifted up to see that Geta stood just on the edge of the barrier, his back turned to you. Your gaze fell to the ground below you, and it was only then you realized how high up you truly were.

You do not know who or what willed you to, but you then looked at Hanno still the center, covered in blood. As if he knew what you would do, he shook his head.

“Ah, ah, ah.” Macrinus grabbed your arm roughly when you took one step towards Geta.

The emperors turned to him upon his appearance, and Macrinus loosened his grip on you before saying. “For our safety’s sake, we should leave.”

“Yes.” Geta stepped down, wrapping his arms around you. “We should.”

You never knew there was a safe house in Rome until you were forced into it. Perhaps that was the reason for it being a safe house, so that no one knew of it. Yet, apparently, almost all of the roman citizens found it that night. Or, they were simply rioting wherever a free patch of land was.

The cries played in your ears despite them being behind heavy walls of the safe house, and you dared not to peek out the windows as the several fires would temporarily blind you. In the house was you, Macrinus, Dondus (Caracalla’s pet monkey, although he’d call him his other half), and the twin emperors.

“How is the babe?” Geta asked as you sat with your head hanging low.

Of course he would ask that. You didn’t look at him. “He is in fear for his life.”

“I understand,” he sighed. “but there-.”

“-But what?” You finally looked at him, hissing. “Chaos has fallen upon the city because of your actions.”

“There was nothing else to do.” Geta glared at you. “He and his bitch were plotting to kill us! If I’d let him live-.”

“-Don’t you hear them?” Caracalla cried out from his seat, holding Dondus. “They’re calling for our heads! She is right, you brought this upon us!”

Geta placed his hands on him. “Calm yourself, brother. The Praetorians will put down this crowd like they have others-.” The money upon Caracalla’s shoulder chirped out in anxiousness from the people outside. “Keep the ape still!”

“Beware of how you speak to Dondus!” His brother berated.

“Perhaps,” Macrinus finally intervened. “you should take Dondus and Julia elsewhere. The noise outside is too much for them; you should comfort one another someplace quieter.”

Caracalla nodded, gathering up Dondus and moving to help you stand, but Macrinus reached his hand out first. You took it, and as you stood, he said into your ear.

“I will find you on the right side of the hall.”

This was not the time nor place for riddles, but you could not react in any sort of way. You looped our arm through Caracalla’s and walked out of the room, hoping to find somewhere quieter.

“I’m afraid,” you confided in him, truthfully.

“I am as well.” Was all he could say.

You stopped in the middle of the hall once he found an open door. “I…I need time with my own thoughts. Please.”

He nodded, cradling Dondus closer to his chest before entering the room, shutting the door tightly. Within the minute, you watched as Macrinus approached you from the other side of the hall.

You spat. “What do you want?”

“I know I stole your moment of vengeance, and for that, I apologize.” He stood before you. “But let me make it up to you.”

“How could you possibly?”

From his cloak, he brandished a knife, holding the handle out to you. You took it without hesitation, yet question was still upon your face. “I do it myself?”

“You could,” he shrugged. “or, you could have his own brother do so.”

“Caracalla? He is senile.”

“Then I have a proposition for you.” Macrinus pointed to the door Caracalla was behind. “Convince him that Geta will destroy all of you if he is not disposed of. Convince him that, as the new emperor of Rome, he will need more trusting subjects. I shall be his second in command, and you shall be free.”

You furrowed your brow. “Who shall be first?”

“The monkey.” He smirked. “Do you believe he would put me above him?”

It sounded so simple; too simple. Yet, as the crowd began to die down, and you could no longer hear their protests from outside, the quietness brought to you what you had always known: You would never be your own person again so long as Geta breathed.

You held the dagger to your heart, saluting him. “I shall do my duty.”

He nodded. “May the gods be with you when you do, Brutus.”

An insult to most, and while it shocked you, you took it in stride as you stood outside the door. You made yourself look smaller, more afraid, and hid the dagger within your cloak as you entered the room.

There, sitting upon the floor, was Caracalla and Dondus. Like a scared child, he held the monkey close to him, grooming one another as if it was the only thing to bring comfort.

“Caracalla?” You whispered.

He stared up at you, and you noticed he had been crying. Immediately, you sat before him, bringing him into your arms.

“Nothing was ever mine.” He cried, embracing you. “Everything was ‘ours’, always. Even in the womb, he gripped the umbilicus in his tiny fist to deprive me of air.”

“He did?”

“Certainly, one cannot forget.”

You pulled away only to hold his face tenderly in your hands. “You must listen to me, for what I tell you is dire. Your brother wishes to blame you before the Senate; for what happened, for the chaos in the streets-.”

“-That is a lie!” He tore himself from you. “I didn’t do it!”

“I know that, but they don’t. No testimony is more damning than that of a brother against another.”

“He lies! He always lies!” He sobbed.

“He’s very persuasive.”

“What will they do to me?”

“I don’t dare imagine, but…gods above, I don’t wish to know what they will do to Dondus.”

His jaw quivered with the rest of his body. “What-what shall we do?"

You sighed. “I…I have a proposition, but it is most outrageous and-.”

“-Julia,” he begged, grabbing your hands. “dear, sweet sister, please tell me.”

Breath shuttering, you reached into your cloak and held the blade out to him. “Slay your brother tonight. You shall be crowned the sole emperor of Rome when morning comes, and Dondus, the child I carry, and I will be safe.'

He took it, yet still had that look of terror. “This…It has always been he who led everything. I do not know who to trust or-or who to command.”

“Then let me-.” You stopped yourself, eyeing the monkey that lay at his legs. You held your hand out to him, and Dondus climbed into your arms. “Let us help you. Claim Dondus as your first in command, and I your second.”

You wished the same as Lucilla and Marcus; to have Rome be a free empire. Yet, you would have to free Lucilla yourself before that happened.

Caracalla nodded yet said. “You-you are with child. You will become delirious as time progresses.”

And he was the epitome of having a clear mind.

“I will need a third.” He settled.

You shook your head. “That has never been done before-.”

“-I will be emperor!” He screamed. “If it is to be done, it shall be done!”

Raising your hands in surrender, you pleaded. “It shall, it shall! For a third…Macrinus. He has been loyal and informed us of the general’s betrayal.”

“Yes, yes Macrinus will do.” He grabbed your face and pressed his lips against yours. It didn’t even truly feel like a kiss, yet it shocked you nonetheless. “You are the wisest woman I have ever met, dear sister.”

You nodded, forcing a smile. With that, he stood on his feet and left the room. IT would have been easy to stay in there and wait for his return…

Yet, you wanted to be the last thing Emperor Geta saw.

No fear toiled within your body as you approached the throne room, not even when you hear the cries that you knew belonged to Geta. You walked through the doors, watching as Geta held his hands up in fear, begging his brother to spare his life as he was forced onto his knees, trying to stop the knife in Caracalla’s hand.

“I love you!” Geta squealed, staring up at him through tears “You are my brother, I love you!”

You moved to stand behind the younger twin, glaring at the man before you. Geta’s eyes dropped in relief.

“My love, my love, please help me!”

There was nothing uncertain about how you grabbed Caracalla’s hand that held the dagger. With eyes unblinking, you guided the blade into Geta’s throat, pushing it further and further as blood drained from his mouth.

The emperor was dead, and you would sleep like a child once more that night.

There was something inside of you when you awoke that morning. Not the child you had lied to all of Rome about; it felt like a parasite. You threw up an hour after you woke up, but when you checked with the healers, they said that there was nothing ailing you.

Was it…guilt? No, no it could not be.

Was it possible to feel guilt for the act of killing someone, but not feeling it for who was killed?

You had no time to debate these issues as if you were a philosopher.

Dressed in your finest silks, you made way into the room where the hundreds of senators met, carrying a hefty sack beside you. You sat in a chair next to Macrinus.

“You have done well.” He said softly.

You smiled. “Only because of you.”

Your gaze turned to Caracalla, who sat in one of the two thrones that were there for him and Geta. He looked like the worst you had ever seen him be. A blood rag had been placed at his feet.

“Now I am the only one.” He began, voice low. “I was the true us, and he was the false me. We were always ‘we,’ all our lives, but now I am only I, me, alone.”

The senators look at one another in silent terror. The only ones to not feel fear were you and Macrinus.

Caracalla continued. “My hand held the blade, but my father’s hand guided mine. I was the puppet, dancing on his string. As Emperor, I have convened the Senate to appoint my First Consul and bestow upon him the power to administer the military and civic functions of the Empire.”

He tossed his hand to the second thrown, revealing his fury companion. “I name Citizen Dondus!”

Where the senators were beyond terrified, they were now confused. Macrinus was the first to rise, applauding. “Hail Dondus!”

You repeated his sentiment, clapping with vigor. Caracalla and the rest of the mortified senators applauded all repeating ‘Hail Dondus!’.

Once the excitement died down, Caracalla resumed. “As is custom, I am naming a Second Consul to advise the First and to assure his integrity. Though you will find that Dondus is incorruptible! As Second Consul, I name…”

Macrinus took one step forward.

“The mother of the future heir to the throne, Julia!”

All eyes fell upon you, standing taller than you ever had done in your life. How strange it was though, that the same reaction to a monkey being assigned first in command, was to you, a woman.

Utter silence, until Caracalla applauded enthusiastically. Like sheep, the senators followed; all but Macrinus.

“Yet, as mother to the heir,” the emperor said after finishing. “it is apparent she shall be incompetent for majority of her advising. So, for the first time in the history of Rome, I name Citizen Macrinus as my third!”

Even with this third twist in a counsel, the senators seemed more so relieved at the decision. Macrinus did not smile or even acknowledge the honor, simply stared ahead. Caracalla gathered Dondus in his arms.

“There will be a triumphal parade to celebrate. There will be games and mass executions! Long live the Empire!”

“Long live the Emperor!” You and the senators all yelled.

The Emperor Caracalla carried the First Consul Dondus sweepingly out of the hall, to the Senate’s terrified silence. You picked up the sack that had been beside you this whole time, then making your way to the center of the room.

You opened the sack, and out fell Geta’s decapitated head. The Senate gasped and gagged at the sight of the former emperor’s head. You almost felt sorry for the horror they felt that whole time. Yet, there horror is what would bring you fortune.

“This is what befell your emperor.” You pointed to the head at your feet. “He was slaughtered by the one who shared a womb with him. Tell me, senators, is this who we must trust to maintain the greatness of the Roman Empire?”

They did not glance at one another in uncertainty; no, no they were listening to you.

You continued, your heart stammering. “I am not the one who will stand with you for the rest of my days, it is the son I carry within me. And if it is my son who will become emperor, then there must still be an empire for him once he is born. Hysteria has poisoned the streets for decades now, it is time to put an end to it!”

Murmurs and nods of approval began to echo amongst the counsel.

“Every single one of Rome’s children matters; from the beggars to the emperor himself. If one falls, so shall the rest of the Empire. I have walked beside the lay people of the city, and they feel betrayed by the former emperor for the murder of their beloved general. To right this wrong, I call for the release of Lucilla, daughter of Marcus Aurelias.”

Not one of the hundreds of senators made a sound. Deep within you, you knew that there wouldn’t be much rejoicing over Lucilla’s freedom, but you still had to try.

“The people adored her for far longer than they adored the general!” You pleaded. “If we kill her only for the amusement of the elites, then the children of Rome-!”

 “-Shall live.”

You turned to Macrinus, who finally stepped all the way forward.

“Forgive me,” He bowed mockingly. “my lady, but for a woman complimented to have a golden mouth, you have no idea what you are saying.”

A few of the senators chuckled.

“You wish to free the woman who mean to have you, and the emperors killed?” He questioned.

You refuted. “I wish to show the world that Rome is capable of forgiveness.”

“A desire so foolish, only the emperor’s favorite whore could have it.”

“Another word of slander out of your mouth, and I will have your tongue removed!” You stood toe-to-toe with him.

He grinned like the devil, and just from your outburst alone, no matter how warranted it had been, he had you. Macrinus stepped away, looking around at the senators.

“Me thinks the little girl believes she is Marcus Aurelius himself born again.” He straightened his tone. “What say you, senators? All in favor of releasing a traitor to the Empire, speak.”

Not one of them said ‘aye’. If you weren’t under a sheer amount of duress, you would’ve seen perhaps a few faces of inner turmoil, debating on calling for Lucilla’s release.

Yet, no one said a word because they shared the one thing that will contribute to the death of humanity: Cowardice.

Macrinus tutted. “Now, dear Julia and I happen to have, through good fortune and not a little skill, the remaining emperor’s ear. We can speak reason in it and tame the madness in the street. Yet, I will leave the domestic work of calming the emperor to his second in command. As for myself, to restore order to Rome, I will need power over the affairs of the state. Including command of the Praetorian Guard. The decision is in your hands. Ballot or hand?”

One hand rose immediately. Another followed, then ten, then thirty, and then, all of them. He provided no evidence for his cause…yet there was a unanimous decision.

Macrinus held his hand out to you, and you could only stare up at him in question.

“I believe we shall take the seats that are rightfully ours.” He said lowly.

Carefully, you slipped your hand into his, and he led you up the stairs to sit upon the chair that belonged to Geta, while he took Caracalla’s.

This would be the first and the last time a woman ever sat upon the emperor’s throne.

After being embarrassed that morning, you paced around your chambers. Perhaps you could have found Caracalla and gave him the same reasonings the senate did not listen to. Perhaps he could somehow see to the logic that would be in setting Lucilla free.

No, of course he wouldn’t. Even if his mind was sound, he still knew she was apart of the coup to try and have him dethroned; killed in his mind’s eye.

As your mind grew heavy with existential possibilities towards the future, the door to your chambers opened. Stopping where you stood, you watched as Macrinus entered.

“Now, try to make me understand this," he shook his head. "I let you have your vengeance on the man who used you as a slave, I promised you freedom, and yet you wasted it.”

You clenched your jaw. "How dare you-."

“-How dare I?” He tensed his voice. “How dare I keep silent about your lie? How dare I give you the privilege to take your revenge? I have saved you more than you believe I have harmed you, lady Julia."

The name had always bothered you, but with one emperor dead and the other incapacitated, you assumed it would stop.

Now, it only enraged you more; or perhaps that was just because it was Macrinus saying it.

You glared. “It was your own mistake to believe you were the only one who desired power.”

He took a deep breath, then moving to sit on your bed. “Sit beside me, Rome’s Delight; I have a story to tell you.”

“I am not a child, you may tell me in short.”

“You are not the only slave wishing to be free.” He pulled back the collar of his clothing, revealing a branded ‘M.A’ “You are lucky enough to not carry your master’s mark, but were a slave nonetheless. Marcus Aurelius spoke of peace while still using violence against those who served him.”

Swallowing your pride thickly, you said. “I’m sorry.”

“You have learned now, that is all that matters.”

“But Lucilla will still be dead.” You tried to keep your voice steady. “She wanted the emperors to be gone as much as you, but she will-."

“-Her father enslaved me.”

“Her father is dead; and if taking his empire wasn’t enough, than killing his last child will satisfy you?"

Macrinus clutched your arm, fingers tightening with every word. “I would be careful with how you speak to me. I wish to offer you one last ounce of kindness before I regret it. Now tell me, Brutus, will you accept me as Rome’s new emperor?”

You had all the right to say it was Caracalla, but you thought better of it. So, with the softening of your entire person, you nodded. “I accept you.”

He dropped your arm. “I’ll let you say goodbye this time.”

Macrinus led you down into the dungeons of the palace, and he was right; somehow it was more heavily guarded than the gladiator pit. Even when the worst of the worst prisoners sneered or jeered at you, your sorrow and anger could not stir your fear.

The door to one of the cells was open, and you ran in just as Lucilla turned to see you.

“Five minutes.” Was all Macrinus said before locking the door and leaving.

You embraced one another when he left. Neither of you said anything, just clung to each other as if the world itself would tear you apart.

“Forgive me, mother Lucilla.” You choked up.

Lucilla pulled away, taking your face into her hands. “Sweet child, there is nothing to forgive.”

“I failed you.” The tears finally came. “I was right there in the senate’s room, I-I told them the chaos that would befell Rome if-.”

“-You were in the senate’s room?” She sounded as if her breath had been stolen.

You nodded. “Yes, but they wouldn’t listen!”

“My dear girl,” she smiled. “if you were able to even get half a sentence in, than they listened! My father but sixteen years ago said that it was a shame I had been born a women, for I would have been a magnificent emperor. Yet, here you stand; you who had been once a slave, rose above into having a sear in the senate council.”

Still, no matter how much pride she held, your own shame outweighed it. “I still have failed you.”

“I have already accepted my fate.” She whispered. “I must take care of those who matter to me before I leave this earth.”

“Do not say such things!” You cried. “I’ll still find a way to save you.”

“Hanno is my son.”

You expected her to deny your attempts at rescuing her, you even expected her to coddle you, curse you…but this?

“What?” You uttered.

“He is Lucius Verus Aurulius,” she said gently. “second of his name, but the first son of Maximus Decimus Meridius.”

“The-the gladiator?” Was somehow the first question you asked.

“Yes.” She nodded. “Lucius didn’t run away, I sent him. With him as heir to the empire, I know many would not rest until he was dead. How was he to fight for a claim he knew nothing about? Now, he is here; and I am no longer frightened of dying.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to!”

She shushed you, combing her fingers through your hair. “I can speak to you until the earth is burnt by the sun of how I have made peace, but I know that will not work. So, I have two final requests for you.”

“Anything.”

Lucilla walked to the small desk she had in her cell, then picking up a scroll loosely wrapped in twine. She handed it to you. “My first is to give this to my son before tomorrow. It…explains a great deal of things I do not have the time to say to him.”

You took it, holding it to your heart. “And the second?”

She smiled, wrapping her arms around you and kissing the side of your head. “To take care of him as I intend him to take care of you.”

It was not the first time that day your eyes had grown. “He despises me.”

“If the gods are merciful, then I truly believe you will both come to see eye to eye as the only two who remain.”

“I nearly killed him.” You admitted. “The night before his duel with Acacius, I brought a knife with me and stabbed him; well…not enough to harm him.”

Lucilla shook her head, giggling. “He will need someone who disagrees with him.”

You found yourself laughing along with her, even through your sobs. She pulled away from you, wiping your tears. “He is a good man. He may deny it but believe me when I tell you.”

“I trust you.” You nodded.

She took a deep breath. “I will be with you, even when I’m gone.”

“I…I know.”

“Now go before I beg you to stay.”

You forced yourself away from her before you could change your mind. You could not even look at her as you left her cell and went up the hall. Just in time, you remembered to hide the scroll as Macrinus approached you.

“Leaving so soon?” He asked.

Sighing, you said. “She’s…inconsolable. I couldn’t bear another moment with her.”

Macrinus nodded. “You should rest for the remainder of the day. It has been quite exhausting.”

“Yes,” you agreed. “it certainly has.”

It was the first time that night you were forced to sneak out of the palace on your own. Fortunately, you remembered the route you took to the Gladiator pit and managed to dodge any of the guards on patrol that night.

The pit proved to be more difficult as the overseers of it had less space to watch over, yet you still somehow managed to maneuver them.

Perhaps the gods were on your side.

“Hanno.” You whispered once you found his cell.

The man turned over his shoulder once he heard your voice and approached with a scowl. “What are you doing here?”

You wasted no time, holding out the scroll. “Your mother told me to give you this.”

He paused for only half a beat. “My mother died when-.”

“-Your mother is Lucilla, daughter of Marcus Aurelias.” You whispered fiercely. “And you are Lucius, the lost son.”

His eyes didn’t leave yours as he reached down to the latch of the door, and cracked it opened. “Get inside.”

Though you wished to, you didn’t question how he had unlocked it and only walked in. He shut the door tightly, then took the scroll from you. You stood there as he unraveled it to read. His face changed every few seconds, ranging from distress to downright confusion. When he was finished, he looked at you.

“She gave this to you?” You nodded. “Why?”

“I was allowed to say goodbye to her.”

“From Macrinus?” He tested. “Was this before or after you attempted to steal his power?”

“I was cruel to you.” You admitted. “Even after discovering Acacius had pillaged your home and murdered your wife, I expected you to show mercy. I am astounded you did, but as I look back, I wouldn’t have blamed you if you didn’t. My desire for the general to live extends to your mother; if not more. She did not give up my name at any moment despite the fact I too was apart of the coup to try and overthrow the emperors. I cannot simply let her die.”

Lucius stared at you, his gaze intimidating yet at ease. He approached you. “You wish to save her life?”

“More than anything.”

“It is a rumor that Macrinus was the one to puppeteer Caracalla in slaying his brother. But…it wasn’t him, was it?”

Breathing deeply, you looked at the floor. “It was I.”

“Look at me.” He commanded softly, and you did. “Would you kill again if it meant protecting her?”

Your mind said ‘yes’ without a moment’s hesitation, but your heart only sunk into your stomach at the thought. It must have been apparent on your face, for he said.

“There is no shame if you are unable to.”

“I will be with him in the emperor’s box.” You said, determination in your eyes. “I will simply need you to buy me time in the arena. It shall be done.”

Lucius nodded, and released along breath before saying. "I treated you harshly. I...I don't believe I would have survived what you have been put through."

You picked at your fingers. "I think you would have."

"No." He solidified. "I wouldn't."

A silence fell between the two of you. There wasn't a hint of discomfort; as if, for the first time, you felt seen.

“You never told me your name.” Lucius uttered.

You pressed your lips together, shrugging. “It was never important.”

“It has been,” he said. “and it is now. You know my true name, if I am to understand you as how my mother wishes I do, then I must know yours.”

Your mouth parted to speak the first syllable, but even that had felt foreign. You instead lied. “I do not remember it.”

As he looked at you, the steely gaze you always knew began to disappear. “You must remember how it sounded from your mother’s mouth.”

“She died before she could hold me.”

“Then your father.” He walked closer to you, yet you felt no fear. “It does not matter if he was wretched or kind, he spoke your name and your name alone. What did it sound like?”

Like he loved you. Even when he was cross, he never raised his voice. You hated more than ever how tears started to build within your eyes.

“Geta had beaten me until I could no longer use it.” you confessed. “It will feel like poison upon my lips.”

“Then whisper it to me so you will scarcely have to move them.”

You had been lain down on a bed and had every bit of a man touch and invade your body. Even before the emperor, you had lain with people in the past of your choosing…

But none of that amounted to the intimacy you felt in that cell as Lucius stood nearly chest-to-chest with you, hovering his ear over your mouth as you finally (finally) spoke your name aloud.

If the heat of his body lingering over yours did not set your entire being aflame, it was the breath he released once he said.

“It’s a kind name.”

It was all too much for you, so you pulled away from him, drying your eyes. “I…I will pray for your safety.”

He outheld his hand to you. “Strength and honor.”

A saying you had overheard people use as they entered the stadium. You shook his hand. “Strength and honor.”

You didn’t expect to be in the parade Caracalla raved about the day prior. Yet, there you were, draped in the finest and most colorful silks with jewelry in your hair. Inside your sleeve, you’d hidden the same kitchen knife you attempted to stab Lucius with.

You were sat beside Caracalla, who had Dundus upon his shoulder, and who had only grown more delusional since the day prior.

“Where is my brother?” He pulled on your sleeve like a child as you were escorted from the float and into the Colosseum.

A watery smiled pulled upon your lips, and you soothed him. “He feels most unwell today.”

“He should be here.” He sulked as you walked. “He would be happy for me.”

“And he is.” You lied. “You will see him again shortly.”

That managed to ease him, and you both were seated in the emperor’s box with Macrinus. It didn’t escape your vision how hundreds of Praetorians also circled the entire arena. As the time to the match grew closer, you did your best to calm your own nerves. This would be for the good of Rome. Once it was done, you would be able to rest easily again.

It was then you watched as, on one side of the Colosseum, a wagon was rolled out into the center of it. Tied to a pole, dressed up as if she were Venus herself, was Lucilla. All that attempt at soothing yourself was gone once you saw her eyes.

“Must we kill Lucilla?” Caracalla questioned.

You couldn’t even snidely repeat his question to Macrinus you were in such a state of anxiety. Macrinus responded.

“Until she is dead, you will never know peace.”

Thus, the event commenced. The announcer himself even sounded guilt-ridden as he spoke of the crimes Lucilla was being charged with. Treason, betrayal, all of it only anguished the spectators even more to see her being prepared for execution.

“Let it not be said that the Emperor is not merciful!” He yelled. “The queen will be granted a champion to defend her!”

Out from the other side of the arena came Lucius. Half of the Praetorians held their weapons to the man, while the other half faced the civilians as if expecting them to riot. Once again, at the sight of the scene before them, it would not surprise you.

You had been taught one a many myths by your father, mainly belonging to the Greeks. You were Cassandra; blessed by Apollo to speak of prophecies but cursed to not be believed.

When it seemed that hope was gone…Lucius rose his sword, and hundreds of gladiators sprinted from all sides.

The crowd and Caracalla were in an uproar at the excitement. Pandemonium ensued as the gladiators began to climb the barriers and civilians were attempting to enter the arena. The sound of arrows screaming entered your ears; so much so you could not hear what Macrinus was saying to another man, and why Caracalla was screaming.

You simply blinked, and once your eyes were open, you watched as Macrinus dove a needle into the side of Caracalla’s neck, killing him.

Only a gasp tore through your throat, having no ability to scream. Your body soon found reason to move, and you rose to your feet, remembering your duty. Macrinus had acquired a crossbow, aiming it towards Lucilla and Lucius now at the center of the arena.

You rose the knife from your sleeve, charging towards the man. The arrow was fired, and you leapt upon his shoulders.

He moved wildly, trying to force you off of him. You made attempt to slash his throat, but it made contact with his eye instead.

Still…he overpowered you. Flipping you over him, you dropped down into the arena, your head colliding with the ground.

The sky was orange above you when you opened your eyes. Your head had never felt so awful before, and you were surprised you could even sit up. All around you, bodies littered the Colosseum floor. If there was not blood laid before you, there were swords and shields.

Your eyes drifted to the center, and now sunken to the floor, was Lucilla on her wagon. You forced yourself to stand and walk towards her.

When you could see the arrow sticking in her chest, you began to run.

Climbing atop the wagon, you untied the ropes around her hurriedly.

“Mother,” you begged. “mother, can you hear me?”

“I am still here, sweet child.” She whispered weakly.

“Save your energy now.” You managed to free her, and then pulled her to your lap.

“I will be seeing my beloveds now.” She smiled.

“No,” you hissed. “you are going to live.”

She reassured. “It is alright. I have fulfilled everything that was asked of me, and what I wished for.”

“Mother-!”

“-You will look after him, won’t you?”

You wanted to cry; you wished that sadness was the first thing you felt. But no, it was anger. Still, you nodded. “I will, but you will be there to make sure he takes care of me too!”

“He shall.” Was all she said.

“You will live, just please stop talking.”

“I love you.”

“Lucilla…” Your voice broke.

“Tell Lucius I would do this all again for him.”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. Lucilla rose her hand to your cheek, brushing it tenderly one last time.

Her eyes were held open as she went limp in your arms. You closed her eyelids, knowing her gaze would haunt you.

You did not move for the first hour, nor did you cry out in despair. It was when the sun was completely gone, and you tore yourself away from her corpse did you collapse into a fit of sobs.

The ugliest sounds were released from your mouth as you could barely stand. You do not know how long you cried, but when you could finally move again, you crawled to the nearest sword, and trailed it behind you before climbing back up onto the wagon.

You tied the rope from her body around her legs, and brought her back into your lap, sword in hand.

There was no rest for you that night. You would nearly drift off into sleep, but you couldn’t bring yourself to give in until you could bury her properly. You also couldn’t bring yourself to bury her at the same time.

When you had lost time altogether, and the sky was purple as twilight broke, a gentle hand shook you.

Raising the sword in surprise, you felt your body relax once you saw Lucius. You should have asked how he survived, what happened to Macrinus, anything else…but all you said was.

“I wouldn’t let anyone touch her.”

He nodded, tears threatening to fall as he gazed upon his dead mother. He took a deep breath. “May I take her?”

You handed her to him, and he took her into his arms. You scooted off the wagon, your eyes reddened and exhausted.

“Where,” you cleared your throat. “Where should she be buried?”

“I…” He heaved. “I know where my father’s grave is.”

“Okay.” Was all you managed.

And you walked by his side, neither of you knowing what your fate would befall in Rome.

Yet…once both slaves, you were now free.

[mr-jack-letterman]

HELLO HI

God I love the Submas fandom, all of you are so nice <3

In any case, I have a silly Au for y'all to munch on.

Allow me to introduce you all to Covalent Twins :]

Covalent

Adjective

- Relating to or denoting chemical bonds formed by the sharing of electrons between atoms.

Or in this case, the sharing of Emmet between 2 Ingos from different timelines NSNDNNDDD.

This Au is essentially the answer to the question: "doesn't being sent to the distant past inherently mean you are also now long dead in the future you just left?"

The answer is yes and no btw

The explanation for this involves a lot of time nonsense that I'm very bad at explaining but the Tldr is basically this:

When Ingo gets sent to the past, this creates a connection between the past and the future. This makes time get all fucky and split into two separate timelines (Timeline A and Timeline B)

Timeline A:

Time in this timeline runs parallel to the future as long as Ingo stays within it (essentially, if Ingo stays in the past for 2 years, then 2 years pass in the present).

Due to this connection, Akari (aka Dawn) gets sent to this timeline (But not Timeline B) and the game events of PLA play out (+ a lot more Ingo bonding because uncle Ingo supremacy)

Akari manages to get her and Ingo sent back home with the power of Arceus, causing both timelines to merge back together again into one cohesive line with only the events of Timeline B being remembered by history.

Ingo and Emmet get their happy ending.

This Ingo got sent to Hisui when he was 29, stayed there for 2 years, and went home when he was 31.

And Timeline B:

This timeline was created as a cannon fodder timeline so Akari and Ingo can keep doing time shenanigans in Timeline A without disturbing the space time continuum even more.

This timeline is therefore not connected to the future the same way Timeline A is.

The Ingo of this timeline (Nicknamed "War" or "Warden" for simplicity.) lives through the PLA game events but with Rei taking the place of Akari.

War doesn't bond with him the same way Ingo does with Akari because Rei isn't a faller.

The events of the game are the exact same (minus the Arc phone, Rei taking the place of Akari, and catching Arceus).

Despite Rei calming the nobles and catching Palkia and Dialga, he is still not the chosen hero. Warden is unable to go home or regain his memories.

Warden lives in Hisui and serves as a warden for the Pearl Clan for a total of 7 years before dying alongside his partner pokemon, Gliscor (nicknamed Nimbasa), while protecting Lady Sneasler from a Zoroark attack at the age of 36.

Warden drifts as a ghost for many years, with only Nimbasa the Gliscor as company. He watches his friends grow old, and eventually die. They pass on to the afterlife, but Warden stays on earth, wandering the Alabaster Icelands and Mount Coronet, searching for people from a life he can't remember even in death.

Warden watches as Hisui changes into Sinnoh. Jubilife Village becomes Jubilife City. Pokemon species die out and new ones are born.

As the world slowly becomes more and more familiar, the great Sinnohs, Palkia and Dialga, take pity on the lost warden, and decide together to lead him home.

It may take 150 years, and many miles of travel, but Warden is pulled by an unknown force towards the Unova region. Though he is unable to touch anything or speak to anyone, it's all so painfully familiar.

He is pulled towards Nimbasa city, (ah! That's where he got the name from!) and eventually to an apartment.

There, he is greeted by a young girl, barely 17. A man in black, who looks exactly like him, give or take a few years and a few scars.

And a smiling man in white. The man he has been searching for for over 150 years...

And they're staring at him, truly staring at him, not through him.

Why is the man in white crying?

*evil laughter.mp3*

So yeah! The twins have an older brother now :D

I mean he's dead and also Ingo just 5 years older and from a different timeline but still!!!

If you've made it this far I believe you deserve a gold star ⭐ and also some art for your troubles.

So here's War and Nimbasa ↓

And some fluffy interaction between War and Emmet as a bandaid.

If you guys have any questions regarding how this Au works, or are interested in seeing more of it, don't hesitate to shoot me an ask :D

I hope I enjoyed reading about my silly Au, even if it was a bit long lol.

*fades back into the void of Submas fics.*

[todayimfour]

IMMEDIATE FOLLOW-UP Please share Little Sun CG Moon thoughts as well please!!!

EEEEEEEE REGRESSER SUN HEAD CANNONS/kinda

This is in response to this post where I made a Cg Sun and Lil Moon Agere Board with lil headconnons bc I got inspired

Also sorry there's not much Moon... I uhhh don't have an excuse and I just realized that now. Sorry :3

- he's so high strung all the time, being smol is genuinely an escape for him. He's a carefree older toddler 3-6

- HE. LOVES. CRAFTS. (Supplies) paints, sequins, buttons, beads, twine, thread, glue, glitter, markers, crayons, pencils, you name it he's got a stach of it at his disposal at all times. Ready to make a *very pretty* mess hopefully on a piece of paper.

- he does his best to clean up after but there's usually a residue or a few markers that got left behind.

- he's kinda stubborn in a not bratty way.. ex: if he's hanging out with his favorite Glamrock, he never wants to leave! If he's building a block tower, he'll make the tallest one ever!! If he's got a crayon in his mouth and Moon tells him to spit it out, how can he? It's the best flavor!! That's a waste Moonie.. fiiiinneee :(

- he like to draw his friends and one time someone turned it around and said "imma draw YOU" it turned a playfull fight on who can draw who faster. (Side note, true story. I heard from friend after and I have his drawing if people wanna see it I'll ask him if it's okay I'll edit it in here)

- HES SO SILLY AND PLAYFUL. his favorite games are follow the leader *bonus points if the leader doesn't know they're the leader* he loves hide and seek too but sometimes he forgets to tell anyone that they're supposed to seek and then he gets sad

- he likes looking at balloons but hates when they make that gosh darn *balloon noises* they spook him when they pop too

- his favorite Glamrock is Monty. Full stop. No debate. No one's been able to get him to explain why, not even he knows, sometimes we just have favorites!

- no paci for him, he's a big boy!! Buuuutt... There's no shame in thumbs when he gets reeeeaaaalllllllyyyyyy sleepy and thinks no one's watching.

- speaking of: KEEP AN EYE ON HIM AT ALL TIMES!! Wether it's making a mess or climbing too high up on the jungle gym, if you don't keep an eye on him always he'll get up to something... He usually comes clean before anyone notices tho

- if you need him to sit still, GOOD FREAKING LUCK, but you may have some success with those ASMR slime videos. Don't let him watch too long tho because he may try to use the video as a tutorial.

- he absolutely loves those kids crafts kits you can buy at Walmart or target, never reads the instructions tho. It's usually just a fun time anyways, having a product at the end isn't necessary if he gets to be silly and make a mess.

~If this one feels more thorough than the lil Moon head cannons that's because it's a lot more accurate this time.. our alter Sun does regress sometimes and he's read though this for me to confirm he's okay with sharing and that's it's accurate! Some stuff that includes IRL friends have been made anonymous for their safety~

[herrlindemann]

Metal Hammer - February 2010

The spectacle continues: Rammstein pull a fire trail through Germany with their Liebe ist für alle da tour. After Metal Hammer dedicated itself to three concerts in the previous edition, the journey now continues to Frankfurt, Stuttgart, Hamburg and to the home game in Berlin. Did only the stage burn on site or did the audience as well?

11.12. Frankfurt, festival hall

It's December 11th, 2009. The whole Rhein-Main area is infected by the Rammstein virus! The whole Rhine-Main area? No! But in order to make at least a small part of this diagnosis, you don't need a doctorate these days. Hundreds of party-mad Rammstein fans transform the extensive area in front of the magnificent Frankfurt Festhalle into their very own Christmas market. Here - punctually until the first chime - the merchandising bus is on the lookout for a gift for loved ones, people ask for admission to the Holy of Holies at the gates of (heaven) or at one of the countless stands the cold season with delicious mulled wine neutralized. The only difference to Nuremberg, the capital of Christkind: Here, instead of 'Last Christmas' or 'Jingle Bells', it's mainly these that get through.

Big hit from the Berlin scene institution from the Munich of the proud ticket holders. ‘Silent Night’ is definitely different.

In the circus ring-like interior of the location, the first thing to say is: wait for the Christ Child. Instead of shortening the whole thing with a speech by the Federal Chancellor, the industrial rockers from Combichrist try to heat things up today - which, however, meets with a similar amount of enthusiasm from large parts of the audience. Whether that's why the dedicated Norwegians chose their catchy tune 'WTF Is Wrong With You People?' as the official end of their tryst is anyone's guess.

After that, it's finally time for tonight's main attraction. With their spectacular debut, they immediately gave the term 'Freemasonry' a new definition. However, even such rock light figures as Rammstein - as in most tour stations before - need a two-part start-up phase ('Rammlied'/B******') at the beginning until the first decent cracker of the evening. Such explosive titles can be taken literally, because when the attack is blown with 'Waidmanns Heil', not only the pyro effect premiere heats the mood barometer up to the boiling point. Since the set list of the six capitals is identical to the previous gigs of the tour, the band's Die Hard fans are particularly excited about the 'polarizing' anthem 'Ich tu Dir weh' and the answer to the question 'How do Rammstein avoid the indexing this time? '. And how do the Neue Deutsche Härte initiators solve this problem? Actually as always: Namely with their very special sense of humour. Instead of singing about urinary canals, Till prefers to sing about other messes in the form of Frankfurter sausages, of which he immediately throws the daily turnover of a barbecue snack to the crowd for visual support.

Incidentally, such homage to Hessian cuisine is also lyrically spoiled at the foam cannon-laden closing party in the form of 'Pussy', since this time the charismatic frontman does not receive a visit from his Thuringian, but rather from an object whose current consistency resembles the hall cleaning staff will certainly be a lot of fun. Speaking of sensual pleasures: it should be clear that the audience, whispering close together in front of the stage, loudly want a second helping of the musical festive roast after this audiovisual firework. The hosts — who are now almost uniformly dressed in a 'topless look' — don't splash out either and let it rip with their colorfully mixed three-course dessert ('Sonne’/‘Haifisch’/‘Ich ‘will). that even the Christkind is hooked on the Rammstein stage spectacle. Or was it just Till Lindemann in the guise of an ‘Engel’? Doesn't matter! After such a mess, the visibly satisfied Frankfurt audience should have nothing to wish for anyway.

12.12. Stuttgart, Schleyer Hall

Saturday evening: People of all ages stream from everywhere — many in smart endured thread, others in metal gear. 'Holiday On Ice' takes place in the Porsche Arena right next to the Schleyer Hall, opposite on the Wasen the world Christmas circus stops - and then 12,000 people also want to see Rammstein. The search for a parking space is only unproblematic for those who know the area. It's cold outside, freezing cold even, so the anticipation of a warming pyro inferno increases even more. Although admission is from 7 p.m., there is still a very long queue just before 8 a.m. Everyone is shivering, teeth are chattering, deposit collectors are loading plastic bags and shopping carts full, the atmosphere is relaxed and peaceful. Wearers of glasses are also safe, because VfB-Wüterich Jens Lehmann is already in Mainz to prepare for the game against FSV.

Due to the barcode check of the tickets and precise scanning controls, progress towards the hall entrance is very slow. What seems annoying when queuing in the freezing cold turns out to be a stroke of luck. At least for those who no longer have to endure the entire Combichrist performance. The first few rows still seem to like it — it's all a matter of taste.

It gets dark at 9 p.m. sharp and Rammstein break through the stage decorations to greet the audience with 'Rammlied'. During ‘Waidmanns Heil’ — a real hit live — the first pyros take to the air. The interlude in ‘Feuer Frei!’ is also cool, when singer Till and guitarists Richard Z. Kruspe and Paul H. Landers form a triangle and spit fire with flamethrowers. ‘Wiener blut’ is disturbing. The stage is decked out with baby dolls on meat hooks. The babies burst, the lights go out and the relaxing sounds of ‘Frühling in Paris' ring out. So far it's an extremely atmospheric show, which unfortunately suffers a bit from the heavy, undifferentiated sound. This not inconsiderable shortcoming is eliminated from ‘Asche zu Asche’. Yes, that's right, 'Ich tu dir weh finally flies out of the set list in Stuttgart and is replaced by 'Asche zu Asche'. Good thing, because this song is better anyway.

From now on the guitars finally riff powerfully and vehemently with an overwhelming sharpness. Keyboarder Christian ‘Flake’ Lorenz climbs into a container, onto which Till fires volleys from a pedestal several meters above the ground until said container explodes. Seconds later Flake gets up in a glittery silver costume and takes his place on a treadmill in front of his keyboard. Cool. 'Benzin', with a low-squatting and wildly banging Till, is another high point until the band march out of the retractable floor onto the boards in lockstep on 'Links 2 3 4'. In contrast to earlier days, Rammstein exude enormous joy in playing. The consistently agile musicians communicate on stage and, despite the tight, rigid choreography, present themselves in a relaxed and sympathetic manner. No sign of static. And that, although it certainly requires enormous concentration in order not to be charred by the pyros fired from all possible corners of the stage, which is multifacetedly illuminated.

During ‘Du hast’, the audience, who is becoming more and more euphoric every minute due to the increasingly dramatic show, ducks their heads to avoid a ‘boomerang arrow’ shot by Till. The well-known encores with Flake's rubber dinghy ride during 'Haifisch' and the brilliant finale 'Engel' end a rousing concert by what is probably the most entertaining and entertaining live band on the entire music scene at the moment. Richard Kruspe jumps into the ditch to shake hands. Rammstein are not as aloof and distant as they often seem. When Till finally says goodbye to the exhausted crowd with his first announcement, 'Thank you for the wonderful evening, Stuttgart', you don't have to be a mentalist to read the audience's thoughts: 'You're welcome. All ours.'

14.12. Hamburg Color Line Arena

The Hanseatic city of Hamburg has always been a good place for the heroes of German rock music. Like every concert on this tour, the Color Line Arena right next to the HSV stadium is of course completely sold out. A good 12,000 Rammstein fans - that looks like something. To use the time until the Rammstein gala sensibly, there are two options tonight: Either you watch Combichrist, or you refresh yourself with delicious local beer specialties. In Hamburg they are called Holstein. The bulk of the 12,000 rodent collectors agree to do both, although the interior space is still noticeably thinned out.

Quite different then at 9 p.m. sharp. When the protagonists 'sweat' their way through the papier-mâché wall and are illuminated from behind with an estimated 6,000 watts, the cheering in Hamburg knows no bounds - just like in every city. Rammstein know how to present themselves and are successful every time. Compared to previous tours, there is a little less fire and pyrotechnics at the start, but that's whining at a high level, after all there are few or no bands that can even remotely match Rammstein in terms of show.

And the sextet also has great songs. As with some concerts on the current tour, the sound had to be adjusted a little during the set in Hamburg, because Till's singing came across as a bit undifferentiated. However, those responsible for the Rammstein live sound have this under control very quickly. In this way, no questions remain unanswered, because the answer is always: Rammstein.

Although: That's not entirely true... Question one that he needs to clarify: Are Rammstein playing 'Ich tu dir weh’ again today? Answer: No, unfortunately not - but 'Asche zu Asche' is certainly one of the biggest songs in the Rammstein canon, so that there is only limited scope for complaining.

The following explanation on this subject was posted on December 12, 2009 on the Rammstein Facebook page: « From today on, the instrumental version of 'Ich tu dir weh' will no longer be performed in Germany, since access to the concerts restricted to persons under 18 years would otherwise not be permitted. » Question two, and that's also the case throughout the tour: Do eight (!) new songs really have to be in a 90-minute set? Sure, as a musician you want to play your new material specifically, but there's no denying that so many other hits fall by the wayside. No 'Moscow', no 'Americk’, no 'Mein ‘teil, no 'Mein herz brennt’, no ‘Du riechst so gut’, no ‘Heirate mich’ - the list could go on and on.

Keyboarder Christian 'Flake' Lorenz cannot be at the show today due to an infection. Till Lindemann speaks to the audience personally and does the customer service, but also says that the show was not to be canceled under any circumstances. Alf Ator (formerly Knorkator) was hired as a short-term substitute. Purely in terms of playfulness, there is no loss of quality, only Flake's famous 'dance numbers' are not part of the show today. But Hamburg gets over that too, because the grand finale with 'Ich will' and 'Engel' is exactly to the taste of the Rammstein Die Hards: big Rammstein numbers with an exorbitant hands-on factor. In general, Rammstein naturally convince with a first-class overall performance, even if a number of older hits have to be left behind due to the many new songs. This is still to be discussed. Otherwise, the same applies as before: Rammstein are the power!

18.12. Berlin, Velodrome

Home game! And four times in a row. At their last concerts before Christmas, Rammstein will be honored in the Berlin Velodrom. A difficult task for Combichrist — at least one would think so. But the Norwegians work hard to get the crowd on their side. And they succeed in large parts, they can even encourage you to sing along. Interaction, on the other hand, is not exactly what Rammstein is counting on. Rather, they offer a perfectly staged show. At 9 p.m. Rammstein start the spectacle, which tears the last Berliner out of the winter depression who had to stand in line at minus 7 degrees.

Richard Kruspe and Paul Landers smash their axes through the black stage wall, emerge from the glare of the background — towards the crowd. Till Lindemann bursts onto the stage from the middle of the wall. The beginning of the concert is like giving birth. In contrast to Hamburg, keyboarder Christian ‘Flake’ Lorenz is part of the show again.

You can rely on Rammstein's game with fire and other effects. It has a martial effect when Lindemann squats down, as in 'Benzin', slaps his thighs, bangs wildly and spurts fire in the background. Instead of 'Ich tu dir weh’, the gentlemen in Berlin bring 'Rein Raus' - the audience thanks it and rages. As an ‘Engel’ with silver wings, Lindemann finally releases the visitors from the heat of the velodrome into the cold of the night.

[fictionsmooches]

Reiner, Poco, and Zeke Office AU head cannon

Reiner

He’s the guy who offers to make copies for you at any given moment.

He was giving th nickname ‘the assisant’ on account of you never having to lift a finger to do anything around the office.

In return you would make him a nice homemade lunch and which he would gush over all the time. “Reiner its not that good” you tease.

Hard worker ™

“(Y/n) go a head and head home, i can finish I your part.” He say. You’d never let him do your work but he insisted on waiting for you to finish so you wouldn’t leave the office alone.

This started after a headline aired about somebody attack while leaving their empty office building, needless to say Reiner couldn’t let that happen to his precious (y/n). So he started taking you to and from work just to ensure your safety.

If you’re having a hard time with another coworker, he’ll offer to talk to them for you, but when you say you can handle it, he’ll back off but keep a close eye on you two.

All the older ladies in the office flirt with him so you often get him out of situations where they’re trying to touch his muscles lol

Porco

It’s a shock that this guy is still employed.

Very much minimum effort. But he laughs at all your bosses jokes and bring donuts on fridays so maybe that has something to do with it.

“Porco stop sending me meme on our work emails” you’d respond to him. He’d shoot you a look from across the room with a ‘you’re no fun’ pout.

Porco likes spending time with you so he always wants to take you out on lunch during your breaks.

“Porco our break is over in 10 minutes, we cant just sit in the parking lot of this restaurant and watch movies on your phone” he’d respond with “I’ll just tell the boss we got a flat tire or a bear attack us or something. He’ll understand”

If you’re having trouble with a coworker, he wont directly call them out on it, but instead try really hard to embarrass them. He’d for sure he like “(insert random coworker name), you sure are looking casual now a days. I thought this was a office”

Always brings the most random dishes to company potlucks.

He also likes stopping by your desk and handing you silly notes with drawing of your coworkers.

Zeke

He’s a effortless over achiever. He doesn’t even have to try, he’s always ahead of the game and first to get promoted.

He buys you coffee or tea (or whatever else you’d like) in the mornings.

Always opens doors and holds elevators for you :”)

He doesn’t get along with anyone in the office but makes it a point to speak with you and just chit chat. He’s not rude or mean, he’s very polite but doesn’t make an effort to make friends in the workplace.

“(Y/n), is that a new shirt? It looks good on you” this man would be an absolute shameless flirt. It doesn’t even matter if he’s doing a good job at it, he just does it to see you smile or blush.

Every now and then he’ll finish your work for you with out asking so you can leave early with him. He’s convinced you to play hookie a few times to take you out on day trips.

Zeke has no problem telling a coworker you’re having problems with to back off of you or he’ll make sure they don’t have a job come Friday.

I feel like Zeke would low key spoil you for no reason. Like gives you expensive office supplies because ‘you deserve it’

[archived-kin]

three names

note from kin: apparently that domestic diluc piece really did wonders for my writers block because i managed to churn this entire thing out within one night

anyway i know little to nothing about childe’s backstory so do be warned that i am only very loosely following the information we get from his story quest/voice lines/etc!

(also as a heads up childe is referred to as ajax throughout this piece! for those who don't know, ajax is his birth name)

fandom: genshin impact

character(s): gn!reader, childe, zhongli

pairing(s): childe/reader

warning(s): death (brief and not descriptive), mentions of blood

genre: angst i guess?? it isn’t SUPER heavy but this is very much Not A Happy Piece

You’ve known Ajax for what feels like forever.

The two of you grow up together on the streets of Morepesok, spending the short hours of daylight chasing each other down icy streets and pelting each other with snowballs until your fingers are frozen solid under their mittens and you’re both lying exhausted under the trees. He’s still a somewhat skittish and shy young boy, always hiding behind you while you ask the local farmers for permission to play in their fields and leaving all of the decisions to you when it comes to your childish games.

You know exactly how to get those blue eyes of his to light up like no other, though. Ever since the two of you were tiny tots, Ajax has always been enchanted by stories of adventures, of heroes who journey far from home to conquer evils beyond his childish comprehension, fighting with both sword and mind to quell any hardships or troubles that come their way. He listens to his father tell him these stories with a sparkle in his eye like no other, and begs for a new chapter as soon as one is finished.

You take advantage of this love of adventure to coax him into playing with you - him, the hero and you, his trusty sidekick, braving fight after fight together until the great sea monster is defeated, or until the brainwashed former friend was released - until the world bows down at your feet. You stand beside him and smile as he cackles, foot set atop a stone and brandishing a stick to the sky like a sword.

While Ajax longs for battle and glory, however, you secretly prefer the stories about the fisherman who wins the favour of the sea gods by saving a seal from a net, about the fae who collects the treasures of the land in an attempt to preserve the remains of a race she has loved and lost, about the dragon who follows the rainbow far into the east to find a companion who has fallen under the control of an evil sorcerer. Where he finds interest in tales of clashing blades and rumbling cannons, you find interest in the warmth of a campfire, surrounded by laughing companions that have shared a long journey together. You don’t love these games for the fights and the victories like he does - you love the games because it means you can be with him.

You suppose that this difference of interests is the reason you stay behind when he leaves on his own ‘heroic journey’.

The two of you are only fourteen - still children, for Archons’ sake - and Ajax has long since lost interest in the mundanity of his daily life.

“All we do is eat and play,” He mutters with a pout, poking at the snow with a stick. “It’s boring.”

You tilt your head in confusion and trot up to stand beside him, face half-hidden behind a scarf wrapped like a vice around your neck. “What do you mean?”

He scoffs a little then, and offers you a boyish grin. “Don’t worry, [Name]. You’re an exception.”

You still don’t understand what he means, not exactly, but it still sends butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

The next day, he knocks on your door, dressed in an over-large coat and his favourite hat, a backpack strapped firmly to his back and a rusty shortsword in his hand. He beams at you as you open the door, and announces that he’s running away to find an adventure, and that he was wondering if you wanted to come with him.

You ask if this is another game he wants to play. He shakes his head and tells you that this is for real - that he’s going to explore far and wide, to seek out the quests that he’s heard so many stories about. He’s going to be a hero, and he wants you to be his sidekick, just like always.

But you have always been a little too timid, too afraid of going so far out into the snow, too aware of the dangers of a reckless jaunt like this. And so, bowing your head in shame, you answer that you can’t

He freezes for a moment then, disappointment clear on his face, but he replaces it with a a grin almost immediately. You don’t know it at the time, but this is the last time you’ll ever see him smile like this again.

“Don’t worry about it!” He reassures you. “I’ll bring back lots of souvenirs for you when I come back! Like a dragon head!”

“I don’t like heads.” You mumble. “Too much blood.”

He doesn’t falter. “A dragon claw, then!”

The two of you exchange brief goodbyes, neither of you aware of the magnitude of what Ajax is choosing to do, nor the consequences it will bring, and then he leaves. And you let him, watching his little figure disappear and melt into the blinding white of the snow.

It’s a mistake that continues to haunt you for the rest of your life.

He turns up again, two days later, lying unconscious on the outskirts of the forest by the village. A mere two days - but somehow, you’ve always felt as if he’d been away for much, much longer.

Ajax is never the same after that. He’s more distracted, more absent - he never wants to go out for walks in the fields with you anymore, nor does he have any interest in playing games or hearing stories. He still lets you follow him around and sit beside him, but he speaks less and less, and spends more and more time thinking.

You don’t give up on him, though. It doesn’t matter how much his blank gaze scares you sometimes, nor how unsettling the look on his face is after he shreds yet another hay training dummy to pieces. You hang around him anyway, talking about every little thing that comes to mind, and sometimes, he replies with the same silliness that he did when the two of you were younger.

It bothers you, the way that he swings so abruptly between the old him and the new him. Sometimes he’s just the boy you’d spent your childhood playing with, chasing you down the street only to stuff snow down the back of your jacket, then making you a hot drink afterwards as an apology when you declare that you hate him. But sometimes he isn’t.

His face stills, and his eyes go cold. He stares emptily at the snow beneath his feet, not responding when you call his name, and he returns to his garden sooner or later, to slaughter another line of training dummies. The way he gazes down at the wreckage, the way his hand clenches around the shaft of an arrow or the hilt of a blade, the way that he seems to hunger for more - it scares you.

Perhaps it is unsurprising that he joins the Fatui as soon as he turns seventeen.

He doesn’t tell you - he doesn’t tell anyone, not at first. He simply slips away and leaves, sometimes for days on end, and returns without a word as to his absence. You believe him when he tells you that it’s a series of job interviews in a different town, even congratulate him on the opportunity. You believe a lot of the lies he tells you.

It isn’t until you come upon him in the middle of one of his assignments that the wool is finally pulled away from your eyes.

You’re out in the city on a shopping trip by your mother’s request, carrying several baskets of fresh produce that just don’t grow quickly enough in your little seaside town, when you spot his auburn hair disappearing into a secluded alleyway. You follow quickly, opening your mouth to call out to him, only to snap it shut when you see what he’s doing.

A woman is lying beneath his foot, and he is crushing the breath out of her with the heel of his boot. There is a blade in his hand, glinting softly in the darkness of the alleyway.

The woman sobs breathlessly, begs for her life to be spared, her face contorted with fear and despair. But Ajax doesn’t flinch. In one, smooth movement, he points the blade to her neck and slashes.

You don’t know if the scream that echoes around the alleyway is yours or hers.

It’s only then that he finally turns around and sees you, and the mask covering the upper half of his face is all too familiar.

Your eyes fall upon the dead woman, her mouth still open in her final plea for mercy.

“Ajax,” You whisper, your voice trembling. “What have you done?”

The bloodstained blade in his hand clatters to the ground. “[Name]... what are you doing here?”

You don’t answer him. Your entire body feels numb. “You’re… you’re one of the Fatui.”

It isn’t a question.

He’s silent for a long time. Finally, he lets out a frustrated sigh, tearing the mask from his face and throwing it to the ground carelessly, and approaches you, hands held out as if comforting a frightened child.

“I didn’t want you to find out like this,” He says quietly.

“Were you ever going to let me find out?” You ask. Your eyes move back to the woman’s corpse despite everything in your brain screaming at you to look away, and your hands start shaking.

Ajax notices. He steps in front of the body, as if trying to shield it from your view. “Of course. I was just waiting for the right time to tell you, that’s all.”

“Why… why would you…?”

He meets your gaze. He shrugs. “I wanted to fight.”

There is blood staining the left side of his face. Your eyes are drawn to it in the same way they were to the corpse, and you feel a sudden burst of anger on her behalf. “How was this a fight? You trapped her in an alleyway - you didn’t even give her a chance to struggle!”

“This is different.” He states, as if it’s obvious, and his eyes go cold. “The woman was defying the will of the Tsaritsa. She needed to be disposed of.”

“Is that all you are now? A puppet of the Tsaritsa?!” You’re practically shouting now, tears threatening to start streaming down your face. You want to punch him, slap him, anything to make him realise what path he’s rapidly beginning to go down, but there isn’t any strength left in you. Not after what you just saw. “What happened to you?!”

“I changed,” He says simply, and his sea-blue eyes are frozen over completely. This isn’t the boy that you grew up and loved - and it occurs to you that he might not have been for a long, long time. “I grew up and I changed.”

“Ajax—” You begin, but he places a finger to your lips.

“It’s Tartaglia now.”

Perhaps if you look close enough, hope hard enough, you’ll be able to fool yourself into thinking there was some kind of emotion on his face - something, anything that proves that he still cares - but there is nothing but emptiness in his gaze.

You don’t sleep that night. You don’t sleep for a long, long time, unable to put a stop to the unrelenting march of thoughts streaming through your head like a gushing river, like the endless depths of the ocean, like the deep blue of his eyes...

You distract yourself as best you can. You move out of town while he’s out on another mission and take your parents with you, settling down in a small village at the base of a mountain. There, you busy yourself every hour of the day, taking solace in the ache of your muscles and the fatigue that weighs heavily on your limbs. The people of the village come to know you as the helping hand, the eager assistant, always raring to go when asked for a favour.

And yet, even as you sit around a table in the local bar, surrounded by warmth and chatter and familiar faces, you can’t help but feel an emptiness opening in your chest. Old Dmitri, manning the bar as usual, slides a tankard over to you with a sympathetic smile, and asks, “What’s wrong?”

You ask yourself that question more times than you can count, digging it deep into your skin, carving it into your mind, unable to help wondering, and yet... you never find an answer. What is wrong with you? Why does Ajax’s absence cut into you like a knife, keeping you awake deep into the night, plagued by dreams of cold, dead eyes and red blood pooling in the white snow? Why is it that, no matter how many times you remind yourself of the man in that alleyway and the body of the woman he’d just slaughtered, of the man that was not Ajax, of Tartaglia - you can only remember the grinning boy of your childhood?

Your parents don’t know why your eyes are always red-rimmed when you come down for breakfast in the morning, nor why you refuse to look at your surroundings when you go out into town, keeping your eyes focused determinedly on your dragging feet.  They don’t know how many hours you spend staring out into the deep sky, wondering if Ajax is watching the same stars as you are, whether he even thinks of you at all.

Everything around you seems to taunt you, and you realise something.

You have to leave. You have to run away, to find a home in a place where the streets don’t stir up memories of days long gone, where the crunch of the snow beneath your feet doesn’t remind you of the sound of tearing flesh, where you can just be without Ajax haunting you around every corner you turn.

And so you set off for Liyue. You journey to the land amidst monoliths, seeking golden soil warmed by the sun to escape the cold snow and icy rain. You do not stop moving until you reach the land where the mountains stretch high and the streets of the harbour are painted with red and yellow, where the people are unfamiliar, the buildings are unfamiliar - where everything is unfamiliar. You’re tired of dwelling on past memories, tired of putting yourself through the same pain.

You settle in quickly, taking up a job at Wanmin Restaurant and eventually saving up enough to afford more than the little hotel box room you first are resigned to stay in. You move in with a new friend of yours, an apparently refined gentleman who seems to have no shortage of money but still always forgets to bring it when he needs it, and you start to remember what living in peace feels like again.

You take a deep breath as you watch the bustle of the city from the open window of your bedroom. The cool evening breeze in Liyue Harbour is soothing, unlike the biting nightly winds of Snezhnaya. Perhaps you can finally let go of Ajax now, you think.

Somewhere in the heavens, Fate mocks your hopefulness.

Two years later, your friend, who has only become even worse at managing his money despite your constant nagging, invites you to a dinner with him and a new acquaintance he’d like to introduce you to. You agree, unsuspecting of the true identity of his so-called ‘friend’.

You take one step into the private room that Zhongli had booked and realise what a terrible mistake you’ve made when you see a familiar figure sitting at the table.

He doesn’t turn around at first, too occupied with trying to take a sip of his tea without burning his mouth. Zhongli smiles at you, painfully unaware of the amount of old trauma he’s inadvertently stirred up.

“I’m glad that you made it,” He says pleasantly, and gestures to the man sitting across from him. “This is the acquaintance I was telling you about. His name is Childe.”

There is a long silence. The initial shock of the moment wears off, only to be replaced by something resembling anger.

“So it’s Childe now, is it?” Ajax stiffens as he hears your voice come from behind him. “How many names does one man need?”

He turns around agonisingly slowly, failing to register the dangerous tilt of the teacup in his hands as it comes close to tipping its contents all over the table. You stare blankly back at him from the doorway.

How long has it been since he last saw you? He doesn’t know. Ever since the two of you had parted ways in that alleyway, you’d all but disappeared. The window to your bedroom had always been dark and empty when he stopped by your home, and neither you nor your parents were anywhere to be seen, no matter how thoroughly he’d searched the town. It had only been when Tonia had mentioned your absence in one of his letters that he’d realised that you weren’t just avoiding him. You’d left. Left the town where the two of you had grown up, left the home you’d lived in for so long, left behind all the friends you’d made over the years - just to run away from him.

There are new scars on your face, a new poise in the way you hold yourself. A sheathed dagger glitters at your belt, and even now you toy with its hilt in a way that tells him that you are familiar with it. You’ve changed so much, and he aches to think that he had been unable to see any of it.

He hadn’t wanted you to go, he never had. You’d always been his best friend, someone he looked up to, someone he enjoyed the company of, someone he cherished - someone he loved. But he’d had a duty to attend to, a new mistress to serve, a new title, a new responsibility. He couldn’t keep fooling himself into thinking he could keep the relationship he had with you forever.

That day in the alleyway - he’s never been able to forget the look on your face when you realised who he had become. It’s been burnt into his memory ever since then, flashing before his eyes just before he strikes, and even now, five years later, he still gets reprimanded by his fellow Harbingers for faltering just before he makes the kill. They always ask - how can Tartaglia, who takes pleasure in watching the life drain out of his opponent’s eyes after a battle well fought, hesitate like that?

He never has an answer for them.

Zhongli looks back and forth between the two of you, his brows knitting together slightly. “Do the two of you know each other already?”

“You could say that,” You reply, though your eyes don’t move even an inch from your old friend’s face. His expression is crumpled, almost vulnerable, a far cry from the stone-cold indifference he wore the last time you saw him.

“[Name],” He says finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “What… what are you doing here?”

You raise your eyebrows at him. “I’ve lived in Liyue Harbour for two years. Why wouldn’t I be here?”

Several seconds pass by with no response.

“It seems the two of you have much to talk about,” Zhongli observes, and gets to his feet. “I’ll leave you for now.”

He’s out of the room before either of you can object. Damn him and his perception.

You don’t sit down at the table. Instead, you move to the window, looking out over the city that you have come to love.

Ajax joins you. He hesitates as he approaches, as if debating whether or not to settle right beside you as he would have in the past. Eventually, though, he decides to keep his distance.

“Liyue is beautiful at night.” He says quietly. “Language is a nightmare to learn, though.”

That earns him a short laugh from you, and he can’t help the way his heart skips a beat as he hears it. “You can say that again. I don’t think I even have a proper grasp of it now.”

“You’re speaking pretty fluently,” He replies. “I’d say that’s a proper enough grasp.”

“It’s all just conversational, really.” You don’t look at him, instead choosing to look down at Xiangling, Xingqiu and Chongyun as they walk through the street below you together, exchanging jokes and nudges. “What about you?”

“I’d like to think I know it pretty well. I had to learn for—”

He cuts himself off, but you already know what he’d been about to say.

“For your Fatui duties here,” You finish for him, and though you don’t move, somehow he feels as if the gap between you has widened. “There’s no need for pretences, Childe.”

He freezes at the way you address him. It’s become familiar to him after using it as an alias for so long, but it sounds so wrong coming from you. It feels as if you’re distancing yourself from him, from the childhood you shared together. As if Ajax, your childhood friend, never existed - only Childe, the Fatui Harbinger.

“Don’t…” His voice breaks, and he forces himself to take a deep breath before continuing. “Don’t call me that.”

“Why not?” You sound so detached, so distant - and he hates it. “Would you prefer Tartaglia? That’s what you told me to call you last time we met.”

He feels as if you’ve stabbed him in the chest. It probably would’ve hurt less if you did, actually, but he knows he deserves it. “...no. I don’t want you to call me Tartaglia, either.”

You don’t respond, but he continues anyway. “I want… I want you to call me Ajax.”

Silence.

You finally turn to look at him, surprise painted on your features. “...what?”

Your eyes are just as he remembers them. He never wants to see them as they were on that day five years ago, filled with despair and tears that threatened to brim over.

He takes a deep breath and repeats, “I want you to call me Ajax.”

You stare at him for a long moment. Your face shifts, as if you can’t decide whether you want to be angry or sad or something else entirely. You open your mouth to say something, but at that moment the door opens again, and Zhongli pokes his head in.

“My apologies,” He says a little sheepishly, “But the attendant informed me that we should start ordering our dishes now if we don’t want to accidentally go over our time slot. That is - if you two are alright with having dinner with each other?”

You don’t respond immediately. Your eyes stay on the man gazing almost wistfully at you, your expression becoming thoughtful.

It’s been five years since you’ve last seen him. Five years of sleepless, tormented nights spent tossing and turning, of days spend exhausting yourself just so that you don’t think of him, of a journey filled with obstacles and monsters just to find a place to be at peace in, and just as you finally think you might be moving on, he shows up again.

Maybe you should be angry. Maybe you should be drawing your dagger and threatening him to stay the fuck away from your city and to take his Fatui agents with him. Maybe you should punch him right where it hurts most for all the pain he’s caused you.

But… you’re tired. You’re tired of hurting, tired of remembering. And maybe there’s a little part of you that hopes - a little part of you that still clings to the boy you played with on the streets of Morepesok, the boy that you lost the moment you let him leave on that journey.

And so you come to a conclusion.

“I’ll stay for dinner. What about you, Ajax?”

[ihyperfixatedtoohard]

Does anyone else ever think about the fact that Jaskier is a Viscount?

Like, yes, obviously other people do, but I think about it a lot.

Because he was a viscount, right? I doubt he still is one. See, during this time period, actors and musicians and performers in general were seen as undesirable, and were considered subpar to even 'peasants' of the time. I doubt Jaskier's parents would have wanted him around had he been clearly pursuing music. All of these fanfictions in which Jaskier has been stripped of his title make SO much sense when you think about it in this context.

However, I have never read the books. I have no idea if Jaskier ever meets his parents in cannon, or of they're truly mentioned, but Jaskier does (as far as I know) go about in the games, books, and show (only once there though) announcing he is a viscount. Or, at least that that is his title. If Jaskier ever meets his parents in the books, and he is welcomed home warmly, then feel free to ignore all of this.

If not, then I have no reason not to believe that it is, in fact, cannon that Jaskier's parents revoked his title and he is only a Viscount of Lettenhove by blood and nothing more. I doubt he holds power there, and I doubt his parents want him there. I am also aware of the fact the he seems to hardly speak of his parents, hence them not even being named in the books.

This brings me to yet another very important thing (that I think is cannon) that's brought up all the time in fic- Jaskier talks all the time, yet never of his familial life. This could either be because he doesn't want to think of them, is humiliated by what happened with them, or any number of reasons that don't fit the narrative I'm spinning here. All I'm saying is that I really, truly believe that people who write fanfics where Jaskier's parents have removed him from their family line are hitting the nail right on the head, and there is a lot of evidence to support that claim.

[devilrainbunnie]

Gamer Boy Shigaraki // Headcannons

a/n: i wrote this last night because i saw @itzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzdamy ‘s comment on one of my posts about gamer shiggy and i just know he would be exactly like this. also wanted to include soft tomu baby, i just want to goof around with him in animal crossing so bad.

cw: mentions of p*rn, swearing (sorry hehe)

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GENERAL HEADCANNONS:

Definitely is addicted to energy drinks, probably Bang, or Monster. He drinks that shit like it’s water, man doesn’t care for his health properly. I literally think that’s cannon, man doesn’t have a proper sleep schedule. He’s a villain for crying out loud, the man sleeps like 3 hours every day.

Really likes eating things with cheese or cheese flavored. Fucking cannon too I swear, the man is a gamer. He probably plays CSGO, Apex, COD, GTA etc. Of course he eats cheese balls and makes microwave nachos at 3 am. Man lives off of it, he just plays round after round and in between loading screen downs whatever kind of chip is near him. I swear.

Has a VR set. And no, it is not just for gaming if you catch my drift there. He definitely watches some VR hentai or hardcore porn using his headset. I’m not wrong. I’m just not.

Most definitely is the meanest person during a match. He will bully the fuck out of you, no questions asked. He’s ruthless, don’t piss him off.

(S/O headcannons below the cut)

WITH HIS S/O:

Definitely wants to play games with his s/o. Having them sit on his lap while they play depending on the game sometimes he prefers the distance so he doesn’t accidentally jerk his body and smack them. But more often than not, he’s touch starved. Let him hold you.

He loves to talk about recent games with his s/o. Absolutely loves going on, and on about games he’s passionate about. Telling you everything you’d ever need to know about it, even if it’s not your style— you listen anyways, because god is it not the cutest thing ever when Tomura gets giddy about a subject he doesn’t get to talk about too often.

Will not allow you to speak to any of the people he plays with. He knows these guys, and some of them are fucking mean. He doesn’t want anyone to hurt your feelings, or any of the guys in his server/team to flirt with you. The few times they heard the two of you talking, there were horrendous comments that caused Shiggy to scream at them in the mic to shut their traps. But not a loss, they’re probably all creeps anyways.

Most definitely calls you player two more than your actual name. He thinks it’s a cute nickname, even if other people think it’s cringe, he’s gonna squish your cheeks and call you that randomly. You’re his favorite person. Partner in crime, you're literally his player two in real life.

If you play Sims, he forces you to make him a Sim that is married or dating your sim. He gets very jealous for some reason over it, if another male sim is even talking to your sim he tells you to stop playing. Usually you just ignore him and tell him to shut up. He does so.

If you play Animal Crossing, he gives you cute gifts all the time. Anything you’d like really, if you check your mail you’ll find something in there waiting for you. He really likes leaving you flowers for your island, doing cute emotes of love sick faces and bashfulness whenever he visits you. If you ignore him in the game he’ll follow you and keep doing that stupid fucking heart break emote. Or the shocked one with the piano noise JUST to annoy you. Even if he’s literally in the room with you. Damned brat. Sometimes he’ll start swatting you randomly or running laps around your character. Sometimes even trampling your flowers. DAMNED. BRAT.

If you like playing Mario Kart, he becomes a little gentleman. Oh, you want to get a specific character? He’ll let you decide whichever one to choose first, anything for his little monarch/king/queen. But when you play, he becomes ruthless. He is going to try to make you fail, whether that’s biting your neck, kissing your lips and pinching your sides, or throwing things specifically at you, ramming you off the road, and even once smacking his controller on top of yours when you kept winning— he’s gonna be an annoying little shit. He’s so goddamn competitive. He is such an Aries bye.

He likes playing games with you he doesn’t have to take too seriously, and can just goof off at with you. He wants to have fun, be cheeky and do things that only he might find funny. This is the only time you get to see him super playful, child-like, and just so free. Perhaps that’s why you beg him to play games with you all the time.

Overall though, you make the gaming experience better. He loves every moment he spends with you when you’re doing something fun together, he just hopes you appreciate it just as much. Which you obviously do.

[delightfulcrasher]

How was the Lord in his youth? Was he like any of his sons, or a combination of all of them? Was he forced to act "proper" at such a young age? Did he ever rebel? What were the repercussions if he did? Did Belmont inherit the prankster side through his father (like the Lord was speaking if his antics and it inspired Belmont) ? Is that why he was so strict after he got caught in one of the pranks?

I crave young Lord D content

Dimitrescu in his youth:

The young Lord, Albin Dimitrescu, grew up in the early 20th century. And being part of the esteemed house Dimitrescu, a lot was expected of him.

As it was his birth right to inherit the family name, he had to live, speak and breathe elegance. Even in his childhood he was given strict etiquette behavioural lessons.

I don’t think he would resent being part of the Dimitrescu bloodline, but he did resent the lack of freedom he had. Very little of what he did was his choice, and when he did go against the grain, there were punishments/’lessons’ to ensure he didn’t repeat the same mistake.

I like to think that he enjoyed horse riding. The grounds are big enough to give the races a run for their money, so there is plenty of space for him to practice. His parents were neither for or against it. But let’s just say his parents were less than trilled when they discovered he inherited the blood disease.

It was in the late 1930′s where Albin explored his love for jazz music, and together with the help of his friends at the gentleman's club, formed a touring group. Finally away from the pressures of the house, Albin started to loosen up a bit.

He was more carefree, enjoyable, and even pulled a few good hearted tricks on his fellow band members. It was short lived as he was dragged back to the castle due to the aftermath of the second World War.

Although not fond of his own parents, Albin still respects the heritage of the Dimitrescu household, and thus still wishes to retain its image. He does give his sons behavioural lessons but he is far more lenient than his parents ever were.

And yes, Belmont did get his prankster side from his father. Dimitrescu told his son about it one day, saying that making himself laugh took some of the pressures of his younger years, and Belmont sort of uses it in the same way (Apart from, you know, just taking pleasure in other peoples misfortunes.)

(I assume the same person asked this so I’ll answer them both here.)

See, the fun thing about making an au is you can decide how close you want it to be the the cannon material. If that’s how you wish to envision the younger version of Dimitrescu, go ahead there’s nothing stopping you.

It’s interesting to think that way. I don’t think Mirus would have a high tolerance for any funny business that gets in his way. He has to deal with the needless bickering of Dimitrescu and Heisenberg on a daily basis, but it doesn’t effect him directly, so he can just ignore it. But if anyone were to pull a prank on Mirus while he was working... He would show them terrors beyond that of human comprehension, assuring anyone who lived to see the next day to be stricken with fear.

Personally though, I’m trying to work as close to cannon as possible, with a few sprinkles of my own interpretations. So if I’m following the games lore, Dimitrescu doesn’t know Mirus until he was already an adult, meaning Mirus never saw Dimitrescu in his childhood (Unless again I am missing some massive piece of lore here and I’m very wrong.)

But it does make you wonder how the game will play out if all the Lords knew each other when they were younger. Would it effect the outcome of the game? Would their be childhood friendships that eventually fall apart? Who knows.

[obeymeluv]

Random Headcanons for the Bros (SFW + NSFW)

I’m bored and was thinking about the more ‘demon’ noises they’d make. It turned into a bunch of random headcanons (SFW + NSFW).

Enjoy!

These got really long so I skipped Belphie for now. I was getting sleepy and I need more time to think up some headcanons for him.

I think I caught all the spelling errors but I’m not sure. Super sleepy...

Lucifer

His ‘angry’ demon noise sounds a lot like the ones koalas make. It’s not an especially deep or rugged noise, like a lion, but this simmering mess of hisses and clicks with a bit of air in it.

Tends to keep his mouth closed and tongue fluffed when making the noise so it sounds more subdued/reptilian

Lucifer’s horns are very sensitive. Mammon found that out at an early age. His beloved could use this to their advantage, but it does bring the teeth.

Would deny to his last breath that he likes head massages or temple rubs. If you can manage, give the guy a shoulder rub and he’s putty in your hands. Won’t even speak. Might make a clicky purr sound though.

When he doesn’t want you to leave or could really use another minute with head scratches, his tail will wrap around your wrist and hold it in place.

When you share a bed, he’s not a snuggler. Lucifer’s the type to be content knowing you’re in the same space. He moves in his sleep, though, so you always end up a little spoon

Asmo says he has a size kink, but he’s not sure. Lucifer will begrudgingly admit he likes power dynamics. There’s something thrilling about grabbing you by the throat, as delicate as you are, but being so gentle with you.

He’s not the most aggressive biter in bed, but he will use his teeth and claws for the sensation. Lucifer’s big on anticipation and overstimulation

Weak for neck kisses, especially at his pulse. Attack! He WILL get even though, so beware.

Doesn’t openly think he has any clothing-related kinks, but he’ll stare a bit longer if you dress up in red or black.

Would never do it in front of his brothers because of the teasing, but very much the ‘come sit in my lap’ type.

His pride won’t let him allow any public fun times, not even the fear of getting caught, but he does get off on flustering you and watching you pull yourself back together before anyone catches on

The ‘lots of strong, long kisses’ kind of guy. Not big on French kissing unless he has time to indulge and knows he won’t be interrupted

Runs very hot when he sleeps. He prefers to be shirtless so cold sheets take the edge off.

You’ll come before he does. It’s a matter of pride, after all.

His love language is helping you get organized (if you’re not), and tracking down resources to things you’re interested in because that’s within his skill set. Also good at creating absolute silence for you if you have a migraine.

If Lucifer makes a pact with you, it’ll be around your heart because it takes a lot of self-sacrifice to do. He’s TRUSTING you.

Mammon

Mammon sounds like an angry tortoise when he’s woken up too early, when he’s embarrassed (or in denial), or telling one of his little brothers to shut up without saying it

I head cannon that he actually needs the glasses he wears. Or that he has contacts and just wanted yellow frames because yellow is the color of Grimm

It crossed my mind that he might wear them just so he can see everything as golden and beautiful because he remembers the Celestial Realms and misses it

He says he stays with you because Lucifer assigned him, but once you connect with him on ANY level (say something nice, defend him, just give him attention instead of suspicion), he’s 100% whipped. Wants to be with you all the time and chase that feeling you give him. He needs more of it. Has to have it!

Mammon’s a sucker for getting his hair played with. Run your fingers through it, play with the ends, and you could probably rob him blind

Will also pester you for back massages because he jacks up his back running from Lucifer all the time (and trying to run off with heavy shit to pawn)

Is really good with math, has bad impulse control, and gets very distractable. Would probably surprise a few of his brothers with his math mark is and the fact that he could tutor if he stays in the right mindset. 

He’s the sloppy/needy kisser that has to be as close as he can. He’ll end up between your thighs and somehow surround you.

Big on little butterfly kisses.

He’s not a full-on biter, but he’s a nibbler. He’s a hickey expert and he wants them to be seen.

Actually super easy to turn on. If you take his glasses off and get close enough to see him, he’s hard because you rubbed up on him coming into view. Also: praise him. IT WORKS!

The Avatar of Greed probably has a breeding kink. Just saying.

Might complain about it, but he’ll give you piggyback rides and carry you if you ask. Literally, all you have to do is ask.

You can’t do the whole ‘laying in nothing but my earrings’ because he’ll either take your earrings out before sex to look at them (very much an ‘oh, shiny!’ person), teeth them during sex and break them, or he’ll think you look so good he’ll want to pile on ALL the jewelry.

Steal his clothes to wear them? He’ll lowkey cry. YOU LOOK SO CUTE, ALMOST AS GREAT AS THE GREAT MAMMON!

Prefers to be the little spoon, but honestly if you fall asleep with him you guys end up tangled up together. Usually face-to-chest, but some kind of tangled up together

Can’t always keep up the dirty talk in bed because he gets so sappy, but he’s big on soft touches, hickies, and needing praise if you want him to go harder/faster when he’s in his gentle moods

Will fight Belphie for King of Lap Naps. Mammon would monetize your nappin’ thighs but then he’d have to share them and that just seems like a bad business idea.

Main fantasy? You begging. Beg for him to do anything and you’re occupied for the next few hours.

Has a bit of a smart mouth so he’ll also get into banter with you and if you get the last word, he’s super embarrassed, proud, and give him a consolation kiss or something, huh?

Helpless when you initiate it because SHIT that was bold and he can���t believed it worked! All you have to do is say his name, look him in the eyes, then his lips, and kiss him. If you think you’re walking away, you don’t make it far.

The type to con you into a quickie in the closet our just out of view/hearing of the others.

The type to write checks his mouth can’t cash 85% of the time. Call his bluff. If he invites you into the bath, do it. Walk in naked. You might have to save him from drowning. 

Leviathan

Levi’s angry noises sound like bearded dragon hisses. Those hisses are used for warning, frustration, and when he does the uncomfortable prickle of awkwardness. When he disagrees or is bashful, they get a warble/chatter to them.

I headcanon that they can also take on their demon form when they feel threatened, as it puts out an aura and makes them more defensive. Levi can transform the easiest due to him feel uncomfortable and not being the most sociable.

When he’s in demon form, his tail will either wrap around him for comfort or will go over to the person he most trusts to comfort him. He tends not to consciously want to touch Lucifer with his tail, but there’s something instinctual about going to the oldest brother. He usually goes to Satan or you (if you’ve reached that type of intimacy)

You would think a guy that shamelessly plays a lot of otome games and uses them as social guides (even though they’re far from perfect) wouldn’t be so susceptible to a peek of skin or nudity, but LEVI IS WEAK!

That whole ‘shirt rides up getting a library book’ thing? He’s dead.

The biggest virgin, basically. Boy’s got a strong imagination and he’s sensitive from the whole ‘gross otaku’ complex.

His biggest fantasy? Water play. He wants to be the big, scary monster who grabs a tasty, tiny human and has his wicked (totally consensual) way.

One of the more adventurous bros because he’s seen a lot of stuff in anime and wants to know if it would really work.

Will definitely ask for a blow job. It’s the shortest blow job ever but he loved it.

Is weak for any kind of kiss so have at it! Especially likes kisses on the mouth, shoulder kisses (because that means cuddling!), and kisses on his chest or belly.

The type to get addicted to sex once he has it, but not helplessly so. He won’t say no if you ask.

Is too embarrassed to ask you to wear some of his clothes so he just kind of leaves them in your room and waits to see if you wear it. If you don’t, he buys you matching clothes so you HAVE to.

Once you’re dating, you’re his good luck charm. No ifs, ands, or buts! He NEEDS you for game night, even if you fall asleep in his arms, okay?

After getting used to the idea of giving you affection and understanding your boundaries, he’s dropping a forehead kiss 24/7.

He hisses more than his brothers, and his tongue can do some tricks the other bros can’t. He’s WAY better than those other dumb humans, too.

You’re one of the only people who can pull him out of his room. He becomes aware that you get him out for exercise (or because Lucifer asks) but if he leaves the House of Lamentation and has you to himself, he won’t complain.

Satan

Cougar noises--the chuffs, the growls, the yeowls, all of it. He is big angry kitty boy

He’s afraid of losing his temper but he’s got a ridiculously tight grip on the reins. You wouldn’t think he’s the Avatar of Wrath until one of his brothers set him off.

His love language is gentle pets, a good book, and a cup of tea. He’s your guard when you don’t want to deal with the outside world. Because Satan’s super logical and admires detectives, his love language is also helping you solve your problems. He just conveniently shows up with something that helps (because he’s been listening and is a background type).

Is emotionally keen, perhaps because his cardinal sin is wrath and he can be sensitive. He has a radar for you and it calls him like a moth to a flame.

Want to seduce him? Read to him. It’s that easy. Share your favorite quotes.

Or just take a cheap shot and do something with cats. He may enlist you to smuggle Hellcats into the House of Lamentation since Lucifer can’t do anything to the precious exchange student. Being its ‘parents’ will bring you close.

Doesn’t like mornings but forces himself to be a morning person. HIGHLY enjoys it if you’re not because it’s so nice to see you go through all the stages of discontent before resigning yourself to getting up and starting the day

He’s not easy to fluster, but he’s the ‘tried and true’ when it comes to getting bothered. If you find something that works, file it away because it will ALWAYS work.

If you fluster him, he has to make it even. It’s the only way he’ll feel good about his weakness. Much prefers if you’re worse off than he is, actually, because there’s something delicious about it

A bit of a sadist. Prefers drawn-out pleasure and taking you for all that you can give

Loves to catch you with that studded tail and keep you in place. Very much likes to drag you back to him. That looks pretty, too.

HIS TAIL IS SENSITIVE. TOUCH IT. PET IT. HIS IQ DROPS TO THE SINGLE DIGITS.

Doesn’t know what to call his kinks, but the idea of restraining you is a nice one. Likes the positions where he has to hold you against him or in place, or can move parts of you to better fit with him. Big on taking you from behind.

Doesn’t care if he’s the big spoon or the little spoon. Just wants to make sure you’re there with him.

Has a fantasy about you serving him tea naked in his room.

Big on biting, and is usually embarrassed about the marks the next day

The type to let you throw your legs over his lap and read in contented silence with you, occasionally massaging your leg

Boy likes legs. Show ‘em off.

Interrupt intense studying sessions (because he over-studies and studies WAY TOO EARLY FOR TESTS) with snuggly pop quizzes (”Who’s cute? A) You, B) The Avatar of Wrath, C) Satan, or D) All of the Above”) because he lives for it.

Cheeky and unexpectedly playful. Will wake you up with tickling or tracing. If you are romantically involved, he’s definitely woken you up with a squeeze or kiss at least once

If you’re in a pact with him, it shows up on your thigh or hip.

Very proficient with magic. Has probably found a way to bring it into the bedroom.

Asmodeus

The cuddliest boy

His angrier noises tend to sound like a giant salamander but his cute flirty/chirpy noises sound like a toy gecko.

I headcanon that Asmodeus became part incubus when he fell to Devildom, or that he ended up with some of those traits once he became the Avatar of Lust

He can feed off the various types of love emotions (genuine love, sweet crush love, jealous love, sex, etc.) but it doesn’t fill him up as much as hunting humans or other demons. It’s just something he can feed off of more frequently so it keeps hunger at bay.

Will pamper his crush or someone he holds dear because that’s bonding. He wants SOMEONE to understand the lengths he goes through to be beautiful! It’s a process! Respect him!

The biggest hype boyfriend ever. Will take your confidence to new levels and show you that you can rock anything

Epitome of ‘looks like a cinnamon roll but could actually kill you’ trope

Are you having a play date with makeup? Turn those lipstick swatches into lipstick kisses and he’s got to stop and recollect himself. His little heart’s going so fast!

Glows when you praise him. It could be something he’s heard for centuries but somehow you say it better than anyone ever has.

When he’s feeling extra affectionate and just really loves you, his eyes will be a pinky-red.

Wants to be babied. Please kiss him.

100% down for soft cuddles and luxurious touches. Long days spent in bed and slow, dream-like sex.

Doesn’t really like his hair messed with because he works on it a lot.

Touch his arms, his back, and his chest and he’s all yours.

Will kiss you anywhere, but his favorite place to kiss you when you’re cuddling is on the inside of your wrist

Prefers to be the little spoon.

The skin on his shoulders can dry out when he takes on his demon form. Something about the texture of demon wings dries them out really bad. Put lotion on him and he’s singing your praises.

Gets you into the most exclusive places and plans the best shopping days. Your off days will be the envy of everyone in the Devildom!

Asmodeus is very perceptive when it comes to his love, and very receptive in terms of sex. It feels like the world’s longest questionnaire before you have sex, but he needs to be ABSOLUTELY clear about your experience, comfort, what you like, and what you don’t.

Probably gets off first because the act of having sex is very heady and strong. It’s a massive energy boost at once. It’s the second-best type of feed he can get and makes him feel drunk/light-headed.

Definitely makes up for it. You probably won’t be able to walk afterwards.

Big on PDA around others. Holding hands and matching nails!

When Asmodeus makes a pact with you, it shows up in aesthetic places like your shoulder, your wrist, your ankle, or above your chest.

Is big on receiving praise but not as big as Mammon

Sex with him can be rough and hard, sweet and gentle, and everything in between. Is very likely to mess up your clothes because he has a hard time controlling his claws when he’s in the moment but you can wear his clothes. It’s fine.

Will give you hickies. Loves the colors they take on your skin.

If he’s helping you get ready for an event, all that pretty makeup might get messed up when he takes you against the vanity. He can’t help it!

10/10 the best, most supportive boyfriend. A sweetheart with claws.

Beelzebub

Sweetest boy. The one that has good intentions even if things don’t go to plan

Very loyal. He’s neutral to everyone when they first meet him, but he’ll quickly pick favorites or befriend someone if his intuition says he should.

Beel’s a pretty good people-reader. Maybe it comes from being an older twin, but he knows a bad heart when he sees it

Is very empathetic and can get really upset for his hungry fury. It’s hard to shake but if you’re gentle/persistent, you’ll get a smile.

If you get some tears, just hold him and tell him it’s okay. You know it’s hard to control.

Also on team ‘play with my hair’

He’s a sucker for kisses around his ear, the base of his throat, AND HIS STOMACH. KISS THAT TUMMY!

Forgets that he’s built very differently than you and is honestly amused by how awe-struck you get with his muscles.

Squeeze his bicep. It makes him blush.

Quiet fawning over his muscles really warms his heart. Just praise him, kiss him, and run your fingers over his chest and you’ll get the good, deep rumbly polar bear purr.

Beel has deep, rolling demon noises. It’s something about how tall and wide he is that makes the reverb shake deep in your bones no matter how gentle it is

Will think the stars of you if he catches you looking after his family.

His heart skips a beat and his face goes super red if you pack him snacks with little notes on them

Is 100% down for food dates.

Loves carrying you. He’s nice and helpful and when you start dating, he just loves having his tiny human close.

Has to learn to temper his strength when you start dating because he tried to be cute and scoop you up but almost threw you into the ceiling

Very gentle bear hugs from very gentle Beel

Prefers you to climb on him when you want to cuddle that way he doesn’t accidentally hurt you. Loves to feel you struggling to climb on his back.

Likes to snuggle your arms when they’re wrapped around his neck (especially when you’re getting a piggyback). Absently rubs your thighs/knees because they’re in his hands.

Lots of absentminded but heartfelt kisses because you smell good and he loves you. He just wants to kiss you, not taste you! (”One more, please?”)

Has a size kink. He’s a big boy so you’re probably smaller by default and you’re just easy to pick up and hold and--boy’s going to bust a nut just getting you into position

Big into oral because you smell good and taste good and he could eat you for HOURS. He has the strength and stamina, trust me.

Has the best jawline of the bros because he’s always working his mouth muscles.

Tends to take you from behind just to minimize the height difference but he’s also had sex in the kitchen, in his bed, and is coming around the idea of you being on top of him.

Won’t leave hickies but he’s the suckling type. Most likely to leave fingerprints/handprints

Heavy post-cuddler.

If you feed him (even jokingly) after sex, he’s going to immediately roll over and want to go again.

You love him enough to feed him and he just loves you and--?!!

If you cook him anything, he’ll definitely give his compliments to the chef

Always buys you cute aprons and things to wear in the kitchen. Has a matching set even if it doesn’t fit him very well.

If you make a trip to the human world, please come back with a bunch of cheeseburgers for your baby. He’ll love you forever (even though he already does).

Loves to cuddle. If you rest your head on him, he puts his arm around you and pull you in close. He’ll initiate the ‘in lap cuddling’.

Is surprisingly good at potions because he’s familiar with the ingredients and can tell if you’re on the right track based on how it smells.

Loves to feed you. Won’t say no to being fed. Didn’t know he had a finger kissing/sucking kink until he was being careful with a bite of food and somehow still got your finger (no damage though).

When you make a pact with Beelzebub, it shows up on your stomach.  

[kkusuka]

Third year songs <3

this is most of the thrid years- not all 

from my spotify liked playlist <3

comes with a side of slight character analysis 

These are my interpretations of HQ characters and these songs!!

Time-skip spoilers!! (very slight) 

---

Karasuno 

Daichi Sawamura

 Waiting for Superman- Daughtry

She's waiting for Superman

To lift her up

And take her anywhere

Show her love

And climbing through the air

Save her now

Before it's too late tonight

She's waiting for Superman

Daichi seems like he makes a  lot of promises, that he just can’t physically keep. He just has so many things going on that he just can’t pay attention to all of them at once. This leads to far too many forgotten dates and even more broken promises. You know its not his fault and he does too, he just can’t leave anyone hanging. 

Koushi Sugawara

 Island- Florida Georgia Line

We might as well be on an island

Like we're the last two on this Earth

Like we're frozen here in time

Like it's empty here tonight

I feel like suga likes to put himself back into happier times. And that he tries to hold into happy moments as they are happening. He says he is a man of the moment, but when he feels down, he tries to put himself back into the more joyous times. 

Asahi Azumane 

You say- Lauren Daigle 

You say I am loved when I can't feel a thing

You say I am strong when I think I am weak

And you say I am held when I am falling short

And when I don't belong, oh You say I am Yours

And I believe (I)

Oh, I believe (I)

What You say of me (I)

I believe

Asahi is clearly very attached to how people perceive him. So when people shower him with compliments, he attaches onto them. He likes what makes him comfortable and he wants to stay comfortable for as long as he can. Words are important to him, so when he hears something bad it can ruin him for a while. He really does believe what the people he loves say to him. 

Kiyoko Shimizu

 Mothers daughter- Miley Cyrus 

Oh my gosh, she got the power

Oh, look at her, she got the power

So, so, so

…

Must be something in the water

Or that I'm my mother's daughter

The power this woman carries. She’s built her confidence and she’s not letting anyone ruin it for her. I truly believe that her friends all become more confident because she wants everyone around her to feel confident too. Since she doesn't speak all that much she lets her body language do most of the expression. 

--

Nekoma 

Tetsurō Kuroo

 High school sweethearts- Melanie Martinez 

Could you hold me through the night?

Put your lips all over my mine

Salty face when I start cryin'

Could you be my first time?

Eat me up like apple pie

Kuroo definitely takes trust very seriously. I feel he’s also really scared of someone breaking this trust, so he does form it with a lot of people. That saying if he does, he wants it to last forever.

 (...Step twoThis is a waste if you can't walk me down the finish line…) 

He truly believes in the people he surrounds himself with. 

Nobuyuki Kai 

Kill the Lights- Set it Off

Now I am cutting ties clean off

And I can breathe at last

So we all stand enthralled by this bland curtain call

And the truth we pursue as we all, we all beg you to

 Kai seems like he wasn't really that invested in volleyball, so having all these passionate people around him was a shock.  But he really got into third year, and he wants people to feel that passion too. In the back of his mind he feels bad for not feeling it like the rest of the team, but since looking in the past means nothing now, he tries to move on. 

Morisuke Yaku

 Mama- Mcr

And when we go don't blame us, yeah

We'll let the fires just bathe us, yeah

You made us oh so famous;

We'll never let you go

And when you go don't return to me my love

I mean, he is part of the mom squad. But it's ever so slightly more deep. I’m gonna say it's momma-bird syndrome. He doesn't want people to move on without him, seeing people achieve their dreams is great but he doesn't want you to do it if that means loving him. 

--

Seijoh

Tōru Oikawa

Prom Queen- Beach Bunny

Maybe I should try harder

You should lower your expectations

I'm no quick-curl barbie

I was never cut out for prom queen

I feel like oikawa is constantly feeling like he has to catch up to everyone around him. At some point in Argentina he came to the conclusion that he was good enough and didn't need to rise to anyone's standards of him, but when he got picked for the national team everything came back. He still has all of those feelings from high-school. Never making it to nationals, feeling like he failed his team. 

Issei Matsukawa

Bubblegum Bitch- Marina and the diamonds 

Got a figure like a pin-up, got a figure like a doll

Don't care if you think I'm dumb, I don't care at all

Candy bear, sweetie pie, wanna be adored

I'm the girl you'd die for

I feel like to earn Mattsun’s trust, he would put you through some ridiculous trial of sorts. I also feel that he is very comfortable with who he is, and he takes no shit about it. But that comes with the fact that he rarely takes fault in things, and that sparks arguments. He’ll use your love for him against you, he’ll be as cold as he can muster, until YOU take fault. 

Takahiro Hanamaki

 OUT THE ROOF- Chase Atlantic 

Yeah, we stay lit

We fuck bitches, pop on pillies, that is it, yeah

Holy moly, holy shit, yeah

Me and all my people are heaven sent, yeah, yup

9this is a strait vibe for Makki) 

I feel like Makki drowns his problems out with meaningless activities. Like smoking or one-night stands. He’d rather drown out his problems then have them in his  face. Or when he’s forced to face them, he’ll deflect until he has nothing else to deflect. Because when you’re high there nothing to worry about! Why stress about meaningless problems when he can be having fun!  

Hajime Iwaizumi

 Endlessly- The Cab

Yeah, your friends may think I'm crazy

Cause they can only see

I'm not perfect, but I swear, I'm perfect for you.

And there's no guarantee

That this will be easy.

It's not a miracle you need, believe me.

Yeah, I'm no angel, I'm just me

But I will love you endlessly.

Iwa knows that he can't be there for you all the time. Physically he tries his best, mentally he can help when he can. But you both know that you're perfect for one another. He just can't help but listen to the people around him sometimes. You deserve the world, but he doesn't know if he can give that to you. 

--

Fukurodani

Kōtarō Bokuto 

Prima Donna- Andrew Lloyd Webber 

Can you bow out when they're shouting your name?

Think of how they all adore you

We’ve all seen how Bokuto gets what he’s praised for literally anything remotely impressive. So that makes him a cannon prima donna! but that also means the lows and really bad mood swings. This song just fits him so well it’s scary.  

-- 

Shiratorizawa

Wakatoshi Ushijim

 More- Usher 

If you really want more, scream it out louder,

If you on the floor, bring out the fire,

And light it up, take it up higher,

Gotta push it to the limit, give it more.

This seems kinda obvious, but Ushijima never gives up. Ever since he was a kid, he set a goal for himself and he went beyond what he even set out for. And that comes with a lot of work and training for every new level of volleyball. He’s just going to get better and better until he retires, or is forced to retire. 

Eita Semi

 strawberries and cigarettes- troye sivan

Long nights, daydreams

Sugar and smoke rings, I've been a fool

But strawberries and cigarettes always taste like you

Headlights, on me

Racing to 60, I've been a fool

But strawberries and cigarettes always taste like

Blue eyes, black jeans

Lighters and candy, I've been a fool

But strawberries and cigarettes always taste like you

I feel like semi always thinks about how Shirabu replaced him on the starting line-up. But he’s mostly gotten over it, but certain things bring him back into that stage of his life. Then the cycle starts all over again. He constantly looks back on the game against Karasuno and thinks about wat would have happened if he was the setter instead. 

Reon Ōhira

 Remember when- Chris Wallace 

So can we push push push rewind,

Go go back in time,

When we were kids sneaking bottles of wine,

Take take take me back, I wanna go back,

Back to what we had! Do you remember when we started this mess,

My heart was beating out of my chest!,

Remember when we stole your dad's car,

Reon gives me the vibe that his days at Shiratorizawa were some of the best of his life. How can they not be? He made the greatest friends of his life there. And I also feel like he looks back on them a bit more than he wants to admit.

Satori Tendō

 This Side of Paradise- Coyote theory

Are you lonely?

Passion is crashing as we speak

You seem so lonely

You're the ground my feet won't reach

So if you're lonely

Darling you're glowing

If you're lonely come be lonely with me.

I get the vibe that Tendou attaches himself to whatever makes him feel wanted/safe. (ex. volleyball) he knows it isn't healthy, but he can't help it. This does lead to him completely distancing himself from you over and over because he thinks you’ll leave him. 

Hayato Yamagata- House of gold- Twenty one Pilots 

I will make you

Queen of everything you see

I'll put you on the map

I'll cure you of disease (Ooh)

And since we know that dreams are dead

And life turns plans up on their head

I will plan to be a bum

So I just might become someone

Even though we don't see a lot of him, I get the feeling he treats people really well. Like he cherishes people a lot more than some of them deserve. As you can see this leads to some unfair relationships and toxic people. He just wants to hold on until a good person comes along. 

--

Nohebi 

Suguru Daishō

Mr Loverman - Ricky Montgomery 

I'm Mr. Loverman

And I miss my lover, man

I'm Mr. Loverman

Oh, and I miss my lover

I feel like this was way too obvious, but it really is his song. It’s literally cannon, every lyric in this song is what happened with Mika. but in the end he got her back and made his promise  to be a better loverman <3. 

Kazuma Numai

 Nonstop- Drake 

Future took the business and ran it for me

I let Ollie take the owl, told him brand it for me

I get two million a pop and that's standard for me

Like I went blind dog, you gotta hand it to me

He looks and acts like a guy who listens to drake. He just seems like a guy who won't stop or give up even when things take a turn. He’ll just keep fighting until nothing’s left. 

Kōji Hiroo

 At the Wheel- Colorblind 

I need something to wake me up

It's never strong enough

I'm just getting colder and starting over

Going numb is just the way I run from

All my problems when I can't solve them

Need to break away

Escape the way I'm feeling

Hate to be fake, but I'm just dealing

This one doesn't really have a true reason, i really just felt like this was his song.  Sorry just the vibe. 

;)

Inarizaki

Shinsuke Kita

 Oh Ms Believer- twenty one pilots 

Oh, Ms. Believer, my pretty sleeper

Your twisted mind is like snow on the road

Your shaking shoulders prove that it's colder

Inside your head than the winter of dead

I will tell you I love you

But the muffs on your ears will cater your fears

My nose and feet are running as we start

To travel through snow

Together we go

I feel like kita is unintentionally cold towards the world, like he wants to open up but can't figure out how. But in turn if you can get him to feel “warmer” (get closer to him) he’ll share everything with you, almost oversharing. Just because he can't help it, he’s kept it all in for so long. Sometimes he just needs someone to hold him and make HIM feel better, because he does it for everyone. If you can manage all of this i feel like he’ll keep you with him forever. 

Ren Ōmimi

 Armor- Landon Austin

I'm not bullet proof when it comes to you

Don't know what to say when you made me the enemy

After the war is won

There's always the next one

I'm not bullet proof when it comes to you

I feel like not a lot of people approach ren because of how intimidating he looks. This has made him weary when people are really enthused to first meet him, because he thinks it’s a joke. After getting over that hurdle i feel like he just isn't an open person so it’ll take a long time to even get to a point where he trusts you. Hence the other wars after the first. 

Aran Ojiro-

 Never really over- Katy perry

Two years, and just like that, my head still takes me back

Thought it was done, but I guess it's never really over

Oh, we were such a mess, but wasn't it the best?

Thought it was done, but I guess it's never really over

Just because it's over doesn't mean it's really over

And if I think it over, maybe you'll be coming over again

And I'll have to get over you all over again

After all of these years, I really don't think Aran has truly gotten over losing at nationals in third year. And now on the national team he sees Hinata and Kageyama all the time and it takes him back. It makes him re-feel all the emotions he felt after the game. It hurt him to know that he gave his everything and still lost.  Like when he’s in bed he puts himself back into that self loathing phase of his life. 

Michinari Akagi

Try Hard - 5sos

It's obvious she’s so out of reach

And I'm finding it hard 'cause

She makes me feel, makes me feel

Like I try, like I try, like I'm trying too hard

'Cause I'm not being me

And it’s getting me down that

She makes me think, makes me think

That I try, that I try, that I'm trying too hard again

Akagi gives off boy best friend vibes.  But like to EVERYONE, so the person he liked just thought he was making fun of them and he didn't like them back. And i feel like that kinda traumatized him a bit, so when he got a new s/o he tried really really hard to make them special, but the same thing happened. 

i may do some with the second and first years, idk this took so long :)

[vaindumbass]

The ministry is good for one (1) thing... getting Tonks a date

‘Why-’ Tonks says to the head that is currently sticking out of her fireplace, ‘Why did you ask me for this job.’

Charlie doesn’t even hesitate before answering. ‘Because you speak French fluently, and because you love me and therefore couldn’t say no.’

Mentally, Tonks curses out the Black family and their fucked up traditions. Why French, of all things? Then she corrects herself and blames her mother instead, for keeping this particular tradition. Couldn’t she have gone hunting when she was ten, instead? Bella always thought that was great fun.

Out loud, she replies. ‘I could’ve said no. If I wanted to.’

‘So you want to do this? Good to hear! You can always thank me later, a gift basket would be nice-’

Tonks scoffs at Charlie’s way too wide grin, a laugh threatening to crack out on her face too. ‘You know what, Charlie?’

‘What?’ he says, smugly, as if he’s won.

‘You weren’t completely wrong. I couldn’t have said no.’

‘I know.’

‘You were wrong about one thing, though.’

The fire crackles as Charlie cocks his head. ‘Well?’

Tonks pulls her face into something sad and melancholic to the best of her ability, and looks dramatically into the distance. ‘I don’t love you.’

Charlie’s gasp is loud enough that Tonks almost fears that he’ll douse the flames, somehow. ‘How dare you! Was all this…. a lie?’ After he has stared morosely into the flames for a while, though, he asks: ‘But seriously, babe, what is it?’

The back of Tonks’ shoulders itches a little now that they aren’t joking anymore, and she feels a bit too closely scrutinized. ‘It’s not that bad, okay? You don’t have to look so worried.’

Charlie still looks worried.

‘It’s just- remember how you asked me so that I could translate what she would say?’

‘Sure.’

‘Well, since she’s here partially to improve her English, she told me that I wasn’t really needed.’

‘Okay.’ Charlie says, ‘And?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You wouldn’t be bothered this much by that. I know you, can’t fool me.’

‘Okay so I may have-’

‘May have or you did?’

Tonks ignores him, words spilling out of her. ‘I may have spilled my coffee on her. And she’s so fucking pretty, Charlie, and confident, which I’m apparently attracted to?’

‘There we go,’ He mutters under his breath. Tonks isn’t done.

‘And she doesn’t sugarcoat stuff, you know? So logically I know that she means it when she says that it’s okay, and that she doesn’t mind me ruining her clothes, but what if she secretly hates me now?’

‘Mhm.’

‘She was perfectly kind, though, and have I mentioned how good-looking she is? Name is Fleur, by the way, and sure looks aren’t everything, I change mine on the daily, but the way she looks when she smiles… Only, there’s no excuse for me to stay around her, anymore, and now I’ll never see her again, and she’ll only remember me as that horrible person who ruined her day.’

Charlie’s laugh rings around the room, warm and comfortable, and some ash gets on the carpet when he finally decides to just step out of the fireplace. ‘I’m going to have to stop you there, babe. You’re not just here to speak the language of love-’ After these words, there’s a horrible eyebrow wiggle, and Tonks makes and even weirder face back, just because she can. ‘- but also to show her around!’

‘I don’t even work here anymore! It really is weird that you couldn’t find anyone else who speaks French. I mean- Sirius does?’

‘Yes,’ Charlie responds, while walking around in her house in that comfortable way of his, easily settling down on her couch, ‘because I know Sirius so much better than I know you.’

Tonks lifts up his legs so that there is some space for her to sit, and then keeps one hand curled around his ankle, the other gesturing wildly, almost hitting the lamp that stands near. ‘I don’t know! You both like animals, right?’

‘You know very well that Sirius has adopted a hippogriff. Now, if it’d been a dragon-’

‘Fair enough,’ Tonks says, because while she loves Charlie’s ranting there’s still one topic she’d like clarity on, ‘But still, aren’t there people who speak French and, like, actually work at the ministry?’

Charlie purses his lips. ‘Maybe. But while I am very aro ace I still have eyes and she’s indeed very pretty, and you are very single, so-’

He can’t even finish the sentence before Tonks has thrown a pillow at him. He throws one back, of course, and soon enough they’re two adults in a full-on pillow war, laughing up and until Tonks accidentally punches Charlie in the face.

She gets him some ice and then they just cuddle on the couch for a bit, legs intertwined, and as Charlie tells her about the proper way to clip a dragon’s toenails, she gets a feeling as if she might just be able to handle the whole Fleur thing.

~~~

Tonks is not able to handle the whole Fleur thing. 

They don’t spill their coffee again, they’re trying to be careful now, but she’s already confusing departments, and accidentally pressing all the buttons in the lift, which isn’t really appreciated by anyone.

Fleur just laughs at that. ‘How did you press all of them?’

‘I was-’ Tonks stammers, ‘I was trying to hold on to something so I wouldn’t fall.’

‘Why not hold on to me?’ Fleur asks, a thick French accent coating her words, and Tonks just stares for a while. Is this flirting? Is it a joke that Tonks is simply too dumb to get? Should they respond to this with ‘but then I wouldn’t have fallen for you’ and some finger guns?

Tonks only knows the answer to that last one (it’s ‘no’, in case that wasn’t clear). ‘It’s- erm- I mean-’

Fleur just smiles at them in a way that Tonks wishfully thinks might be flirtatious. Tonks is suddenly very glad blushes don’t really show up on their dark skin.

A voice calls out ‘Department of Magical Games and Sports’ and Tonks and Fleur get out, because this was the next part of the tour.

Fleur, her eyes lingering on the various posters hung on the walls, says, ‘Aren’t people here supposed to be impartial? This must be inefficient.’

‘For sure,’ Tonks says, never one to defend the ministry, ‘it’s all a bit shoddy, as if it’s taped together with duct tape.’ (They very carefully pronounce that last word. Who knows, maybe muggle knowledge will impress Fleur?)

‘Then why do you work for it?’

A laugh curls Tonks lips. ‘I don’t! Me and Moody, that’s my old mentor, have opened a sort of private detective office.’

They aren’t even walking through the corridor anymore. One quidditch poster (The Chudley Cannons) is slightly crinkled where Fleur’s shoulder is leaning on it. She throws a bit of her long blonde hair over her shoulder. ‘Then why are you giving me a tour here?’

With a bit of a crooked grin, Tonks answers: ‘Like I said, a bit shoddy.’

Tonks likes the fact that they’re talking now, likes it very much, and therefore they try to lean on the wall just as casually as Fleur does, but they miscalculate, and the ground suddenly comes at them with an alarming speed.

‘Watch out!’ Fleur says, from somewhere very, very close, a flowery smell suddenly surrounding them. One of Fleur’s arms is around their upper arm, the other one curled around their waist. Fleur is very warm. Coincidentally, so are Tonks’ cheeks.

They get up quickly, trying not to elbow Fleur, avoiding eye contact just a little bit. ‘When you said I could hold on to you, I didn’t think I’d need it this quickly.’

Fleur snorts. ‘I am not all too surprised, honestly.’

‘That’s fair,’ Tonks' heart is still beating wildly.

There’s a bit of a silence, and Tonks wrecks their brain for something to talk about. They don’t want this to be over just yet. Luckily, Fleur speaks up.

‘How is being a metamorphmagus? I am part-Veela, and I know other magical beings are immune for that, but I do not know much more. What do you change most often?’

‘My hair,’ Tonks laughs, raking a hand through it (short and a deep blue today), ‘It’s partly apart from my body, in a way, so it takes a bit more effort to change, but once it’s a different colour it stays that way without any effort.’

Fleur cocks her head. ‘It takes effort to change?’

‘For sure. Not all that much, but if I change too much for too long I get a headache. I would never change my skin tone, but if I did I’d get really grouchy, most probably. Oh! And I sometimes change my nose and such as a party trick.’

‘Sounds fun,’ Fleur says, a smile playing on her lips. Tonks seriously considers changing their nose into the one of that squid in the cartoon Hermione showed her, before realizing that that wouldn’t impress Fleur, but rather the opposite.

‘It is! But I get tired if I do it too much. That’s also why, on days that gender is-’ Tonks makes a vague hand gesture, ‘- I sometimes wear a binder, because while I can make my chest flatter, sometimes I’ll be concentrating on some work and suddenly, bam!’ They mimick an explosion in front of their chest, pushing their hands forward.

Fleur snickers. ‘Poor you.´ That sounds like the end of the conversation, but Tonks has finally had enough time to get their brain to work again, and they’ve come up with a new topic.

‘So, what are you here for?’

‘Did you not get that information?’ (Tonks had never said it was a good topic)

‘No, I did, but I thought you might be able to explain it better?’

‘Oh.’ Fleur says, ‘well, I am looking into the practical applications of magic, but specifically on magical creatures. Dragons, for example, can be lured to sleep with a sleeping charm, but can resist most hexes without any effort.

‘Giants, who can also resist hexes, can easily resist a sleeping charm, but curses can seriously harm them, and that’s already fascinating, but I’m going to look into what effects other kinds of magic have, outside of wizardry, starting with Veela magic, because I happen to possess that, and that's not even talking about how that magic works. Only female Veela have any sort of non-wixard magical power, but the magic is not stored in the uturus as one might think, because I do not have one, but still have magic. How does the magic know that?’

Fleur had been talking slowly and deliberately ever since Tonks had met her, as if she was weighing the words, remembering the pronunciation, but now she talks faster, a flush on her cheeks.

‘But I'm getting of topic. I will mostly work with stuff like: why does Veela magic affect unicorns but not dragons? Why does it affect giants but not metamorphmagi? And if it doesn’t affect metamorphmagi, then why do you still get so flustered?’

‘I-’ Tonks says, ‘Erm-’

‘Do not worry,’ Fleur says, smiling ever-so-slightly, ‘I think I know the answer. Would you like to go on a date with me?’

Honestly, Tonks didn’t think a dingy corner lined with quidditch posters could ever be romantic, but Fleur makes it work, with the soft lighting on her cheek, and that fucking gorgeous smile on her lips. ‘Yes,’ they answer (was there ever another option?), ‘I’d like that very much.’

In a sudden rush of courage (what are they, a gryffindor?) they ask: ‘Can I kiss you?’

Fleur nods, and they discover that yes, Fleur’s smile tastes as wonderful as it looks.

[kusagrasskusa]

Yandere Simulator Delinquents.

They're basically copy and paste. Sooo here's my version of them for future reference! I got too excited writing the last one lol- It's been a while since I've been to inspired to write. This is a nice feeling uvu

Umeji Kizuguchi - Yellow guy

He has blonde, previously pink, hair and golden eyes. He wears a yellow shirt under unbuttoned blazer and carries a baseball bat around. He has a scar over his right eye. Umeji is Oroso right hand man and takes over position while she's gone; these are the cannon versions of him and all that's said.

This is my fannon version of him: He was hurt the most during the bullying and therefore the most fearful of pain. He flinches when touched and gets pissed instantly. He's the most cold and aggressive out of the five and it helped him keep him as the most feared of the delinquents. He works out daily, therefore having a good build and likes bitter foods rather than sweets. He'a quite ignorant and refuses to share his likes out of fear of being judged. He still feels depression but now faces more anxiety than anything. He often cries about it late at night.

But despite his depression, he's so determined to stay as a threat to many. It's the kist alive he's ever felt. He's somewhat narcissistic and has both an inferiority and superiority complex, actually. Sensitive to touch and criticism but damn his ego is big. He uses his strength and speed as another threat to fellow students, to let them know that if they mess up then he'll catch and hurt them.

His home life isn't fun. Parents maybe fighting here and there or gone for work or something. It wasn't abusive in any way or anything; in fact, they get along well when they're together. It's just the parents weren't attentive. As Umeji puts it, "My mom, dad, bless their hearts, but they aren't great." They tend to brush things off quickly and spend too much time to themselves.

Dairoku Surikizu - Blue manz

He has blonde, previously blue, hair and blue eyes. He wears a blue shirt under an unbuttoned blazer and carries around a boten or some shit, idk I couldn't figure it out. He has a scar on his lip and from Mulberry's art, it looks like he's the tallest of the group.

Fannonly, he's the most anxious of the group. He never talks about it to anyone but Hokuto, who brushes it off. Dairoku got his scar a long time ago when his parents were agruing; he hid under his bed when he was nine and started to cry. To calm himself, he started to bite his lip and scratch himself on the forearms and face to calm himself down. He cut himself in the process badly and tried to hide it from his parents so he didn't get yelled at.

His home life wasn't too bad either; his dad left the family not long after that incident when he was nine so his mom has to take on the roles of two people. She never has time for him so the other delinquents make him feel so happy. He likes- no, loves to talk to them but tries to look sketchy in the process.

Hokuto Furukizu - Purple manz

He has blonde, previously golden, hair and purple eyes. From Mulberry's art, he seems to be the second tallest, but very close to Dairoku. He carried around a metal pipe and wears a purple shirt under his opened blazer. He has a scar on his cheek too btw.

Fannonly, he talks most to Dairoku. He usually brushed off what he says, but relates to him most. Of the 5, he desperately wants to be normal and free the most. He was well popular in middle school but his anger once got the best of him and a fight caused him to lose a lot of his reputation. It just got worse as time went on however; but he misses those days so much.

His scare on his cheek came from the fight and serves as a curse mark to him; "The day they ruined my life." He hates looking at it and gets pissed off when people even look at it. He's always been hot headed but his physical appearance is his number one insecurity. Hokuto's homelife is normal and he's goodboi at home. Cleans, cooks sometimes, has an equally good relationship with his mom as he does his dad.

He managed to convince them that his new appearance and signs of depression from last year was just influence from ex friends. Eventually they just took his word for it despite how terrible of a lie that is, so they stopped asking.

Gaku Hikitsuri - Red guyz

According to Mulberry's art, the blonde who once had light blue hair and red eyes is the second tallest. He has a scar on his forehead and carried around a crowbar. His shirt is red and under, you guessed it, an unbuttoned blazer.

He's a genuine tsundere; the angriest of the group. He easily crushes on people like a simp and gets nervous easily, so he acts all defensive and aggressive around them especially. Other than Umeji, he's the quickest to shove people around and assert his position. But for the most part, he intentionally shoves and shoulder checks people he finds attractive or who he thinks is superior than him, which is a lot of people.

He suffers from an inferiority complex that makes him think everyone judges him behind his back and talks about him especially. Therefore, he's the loudest and quickest to insults; he's also very self conscious. He's scared to make noise in class, talk, eat in front of people, and others because he's scared to be judged. Because as long as nothing is brought to the table, there's nothing to judge. His scar was actually from Kokoro, the bully who's just a sadist according to the character files from Yandev, who got pissed at him defending himself and hit him down with a ring. He got cut badly and almost passed out from the hit; but hey, it's not like he can do anything about since she's a girl, and he'd be expelled instantly. The bitch even resulted him with a broken arm at some point.

Home life isn't great; rundown trailerpark, alcoholic dad and whole of a step mom, dead mom, things like that. Damn, if only he got more than a mattress on the floor, a cover, pillow, dresser filled with all his clothes and school supplies to live on. But he can't even get a job without his scar making people think he's worse than what his persona displays.

Hayanari Tsumeato - Grey manz

The grey eyed, blonde hair man with natural red hair who carries around a lead pipe is Hayanari, who's last name "Tsumeato" means scratch mark. He has a grey shirt under his unbuttoned blazer and a scar over his nose.

Fannonly, he was the one with the no fucks given attitude. He was usually straight faced and brutally honest when talking to people, but wasn't necessarily judgemental. It's hard to explain but just because he says, "damn Daniel, you're built like a carrot," doesn't mean he cares about his appearance, even if whoever tf Daniel is actually looks like a carrot or not. He was the daredevil who did things solely for his entertainment.

In a way, it was almost sociopathic or narcissistic; he'd be fine with embarrassing someone in front of anyone because it got a smile our of him. If someone complained, he'd roll his eyes and convince whoever that they were overreacting and that they were the one at fault. He's very manipulative and sarcastic, usually just smiling cockily and speaking innocently. Kinda emo, but he wasn't against that title. He actually liked the occult and for the most part, was down for anything that didn't have too much time needed, like school or family.

He was in the middle of everything; okay with cooking, occult, art, science, reading, anine and games, so there wasn't much a person can dislike him for in terms of social standards. He wasn't appart of a dislikes group like the occult kids or science kids, not with a loved group like cooking or art kids. But when he started to express a bit of interest in the occult was when people could finally pin him down and bully him back for all those insulting jokes that sounded way too serious. And before he knew it, he got wrapped up in the hate and couldn't get himself free.

Home life is something he never, not even to his fellow delinquents, never talks about. But one thing worth noting is that he's never seen without a long sleeved shirt or jacket of some kind. He used to pass out time to time during gym classes because he was overheated due to bringing a long sleeved version of the gym shirt to school and never drank anything. When his parents were called, they always insisted on saying they'll do something about it but they never did, either. The delinquents do think there's some kind of abuse at his house; besides, Hayanari is adopted and those things happen often even if it's more common in the foster system.

His family is something he never talks about. Back in middle school, his friends were able to see his "parents" time to time when they picked him up from school. It was immediately obvious that he wasn't related to them; hell, he rarely called them mom or dad. At home, until adopted, was great. Friends coming over, happy family moments, being able to play games and use electronics, things like that. But when he was adopted was when it wouldn't be easy to just tell someone what was to come; quite obviously, it was abuse. Verbal and physical, nearly everyday. It was worse in the beginning but happened less often as he got older.

His "mom" would call the police a few times him because she felt "threatened." She hit him so he would hit back and yell while doing so, so she has evidence of an attack. But luckily, her skin isn't sensitive enough to show any marks unlike Hayanari's. Other times, his "dad" would get involved and hurt him badly.

[rbbalmung]

Pokemon SwSh GPL AU: Character Headcannons P1

(From this point on, I am calling this Pokemon Sword and Shield AU the GPL AU after the Galarian Pokemon League). Here are my character headcannons! I am going to give each character and age and a general ethnicity even though A) time will pass in this au and B) obviously there are no countries in Pokemon. I will be giving them an age based on when the AU starts, at the beginning on Gloria’s Pokemon League Journey. 

GLORIA:

-Age: 16

-Ethnicity: Half English, Half Japanese (English father, Japanese mother)

-General Headcannons: 

o  She is an introverted extrovert. She loves meeting new people and making new friends, but she is on the quiet side due to her troubled relationship with her father. 

o  Going off of that, her parents got a divorce when she was 6 years old because her father was negligent. She has not been in contact with him since he left, but he is at the base of some of her social anxiety. That is why she mostly speaks either in short sentences or not at all (going off her interactions in the game). 

o  The thing that makes Gloria stand out as a Pokemon trainer is that she can pick up on her opponents nuances just by examining them. For example, if her opponent’s breathing quickens, she knows that they are nervous and will resort to mainly attacks. That is why it is so hard for her to beat Leon: He has an emotionless mask during his battles.

o  She picked up this strategy by watching GPL battles throughout her childhood. Gloria was often put in front of the television set to distract her from her parents fighting, and since she had to put so much of her attention towards the matches, she picked up on a lot of people’s ticks. 

o  Gloria is very clingy to Hop. She finds comfort in being near him, so she is often latching onto his arm, hugging him from behind, or holding his hand. The closer she gets to people, the more she hangs onto them. This is rough with Bede and Bea, so it takes a bit of work on both their ends to make sure they’re not making the other party unhappy. 

o  Gloria is ridiculously brave. She will go into pretty much any situation, which is why she just goes along when asked to join the dojo/go on an expedition. 

o  Speaking of expeditions, she looks up to Peony as the father figure she never had. She doesn’t outwardly tell him this because A) her relationship with her father really messed her up and B) the fact that he is related to Rose makes her a little wary. She knows how much Rose messed up Bede and does not want to cause more grief. 

o  Speaking of Bede, they actually become really close friends after the League wraps up and during Rose’s trial. Bede is one of the only people that can emphasise with her social anxiety, and luckily for him, Gloria doesn’t give up on people. She has to work on not being clingy with him because he does not like being touched. 

o  Gloria is the first female champion! 

o. Victor exists in this au, but not until way after Gloria’s first year as champion. He is her half brother; her father eventually remarried in Stow-In-Side and had Victor a year-ish later (making him 7 years younger than Gloria). They do not reunite until she is 20 years old, but she accepts him as her brother easily (she knows how terrible their dad is). 

o  Gloria’s full name is Gloria Park. She does not have a middle name. 

(I took the most liberties with Gloria because she is the MC and the game doesn’t give toooo much of a character. I know a lot of people head cannon her as super extroverted and confident, but I preferred this take for this particular AU).

HOP:

-Age: 16

-Ethnicity: Half Spanish, Half Black (His mom is Spanish, his dad is black)

-General Headcannons: 

o  Hop’s dad died when he was 2 years old, so he doesn’t really remember him. He never really had a father figure since Leon left to become Champion when he was 6. That is where is anxiety is rooted: Both his father (who was a firefighter and treated like a hero after his death) and Leon’s success makes Hop feel like he has to do something grand to live up to them. 

o  Hop actually befriended Gloria through their love of Pokemon battles! His mum invited her mum over for dinner, and while his and Gloria’s interactions were stiff at best during dinner, they really clicked after when they began watching the game on the TV. They’ve been inseparable ever since. 

o  I headcannon that Hop has ADD. He practically never sits still and has a hard time paying attention to things unless he is hyper focused. Hop is really booksmart, he just has trouble focusing. He also doesn’t really see the point in maintaining his grades when he’s just going to become the new Champion.

o  He played soccer when he was little as an outlet for his ADD. He joined the GJPL (Galar Junior Pokemon League), but since he was in a small district, he never made it to the big times like Bede. He did manage to score fairly well with his wooloo, though, making him one of the MVPs in the 76th GPL.

o  Hop is a nickname. HIs full name is “Hipoltio Henry Hoffman”. (Henry was his father’s name).

o Like Gloria, Hop is a really touchy person. They kind of rubbed off on each other, so he shows affection by linking arms, bumping shoulders, ect. 

o  After the GPL wraps up and he gets asked to be Sonia’s assistant, she gives him the opportunity to study abroad until he graduates high school. He takes this opportunity and briefly moves to study other Pokemon in Johto. He does come back to visit in the summer, which is why he ends up on the Isle of Armor around the same time as Gloria. 

BEDE:

-Age: 17

-Ethnicity: White 

-Headcannons:

o   He never met his parents, but he was told he was taken away from them by child protective services. This made him really bitter from the get-go because they never came back for him.

o   Bede has abandonment issues, but in a different way from Gloria. While she is willing to let anyone in, he is more prone to shut everyone out. He only starts to open up when he realizes Gloria’s life isn’t as perfect as he originally guessed.

o   Bede reeeeaaaallllyyyy doesn’t like being touched. He got into a lot of fights in the orphanage when he was younger because of his short temper. That is barely the tip of the iceberg: There was a lot of shady things that happened at the orphanage that only stopped once Chairman Rose started showing interest in him. Bede doesn’t talk about this to anyone.

o  Bede participated in the GJPL and made it to the championships two years in a row! He got to travel to Hoenn for one of them and meet the champion there. This was what brought Rose’s attention to him. 

o  The reason Bede didn’t join the league at 16 was because Rose didn’t sponsor him yet. Because of this, he decided to challenge Raihan for his position as gym leader of Hammerlocke. Sufficed to say, Bede lost pretty badly. 

o  He was very convinced that Rose was going to adopt him, which made his dismissal ten times worse than it originally was. He eventually comes to term with the fact that the Chairman used him and threw him under the bus when he realised that he could get in trouble for destroying the monument. 

o  Opal becomes his guardian when he accepts his new role as the Fairy Gym Leader, but she officially adopts him about a year later. He isn’t very good at talking about his emotions, but he does care deeply for the old woman and her acceptance of him brought him to tears. 

o   Bede gave himself his middle name: Steven, after Hoenn’s Champion Steven Stone. His full name is Bede Steven Doe pre-adoption, and Bede Steven Waltz post-adoption. 

o  He is super prickly, but after becoming gym leader, Bede mellows out a little bit. He is still haughty and self absorbed, but he is not as outwardly rude about it. 

o  He ends up forming a lot of unlikely relationships after he settles in his position as gym leader. He and Bea get along really well because of their proximity and similar personalities, Gloria won’t let him not be her friend (he has a soft side for her), and Marnie is one of the less eccentric gym leaders that he likes to hang around with at group gatherings. 

MARNIE:

-Age: 16

-Ethnicity: White

-Headcannons:

o   Marnie is the youngest of 5 children, and she is the only girl. Therefore, she was always coddled by her family. One of the biggest reasons she joined the pokemon league was to prove her true worth to her family.

o   Out of all her siblings, she is the closest to Piers. She doesn’t agree with his opposition to dynamaxing, but they are both passionate about restoring glory to Spikemuth. He also spent the most time with her when they were growing up because her parents worked a lot (Spikemuth is a poverty-stricken town). 

o   Marnie is quite the little activist. It is a little ironic because she is incredibly soft-spoken and will swear up a storm at the same time. 

o   She gains a lot of fans during her GPL alongside Gloria because they are both favourites to become the first female champion. Instead of forming a bitter rivalry with her, Marnie elects to befriend Gloria because she reminds her of her friend, Primrose. 

o   Marnie LOVES shopping. She never really had the chance to leave Spikemuth growing up, so a lot of her free time when not participating in Pokemon battles is spent in boutiques. 

o   One of Marnie’s special skills is that she can see right through a person’s core. That is why she is initially kind to Gloria, Hop, and Bede. On the other hand, she and Piers both constantly talk shit about Chairman Rose. She isn’t really a fan of Leon either, but she knows that he is a good person so she tries to be nice.

o   Speaking of Leon (to some degree), she immediately decides to befriend Hop when she realises he is also the younger sibling of a famous Pokemon trainer. They bond over their similar roles in life and their shared love of music! (Hop really likes Piers’s music and freaks out when he gets to meet him). 

o   Marnie can play the guitar and the piano! If she didn’t become a gym leader, she could definitely see herself going into music. 

o  I head cannon that Marnie is bisexual, but she is not currently aware of it. I will definitely talk more about this later in the AU or if I actually get around to writing a one shot. 

o  Her full name is Marnie Isla Lewis. 

Next Part: Gym Leaders! 

[angelofthequeers]

I’ll Always Come Back

Rating: G

Summary: No matter what happens, no matter what pulls them apart, Alya and Nino always find their way back to each other.

We're finally able to share our pieces for @thedjwifizine and I had the privilege of being able to participate! Please go check it out and give all the other creators massive love!

1. Welcome home

“Are we sure you’re not one of the planes?” Adrien teases. Nino flushes and forces himself to stop jumping from foot to foot on the rich red carpet, although he finds himself still bouncing on the spot in anticipation.

“Dude, I haven’t seen Alya in like two weeks!” He’s expecting Adrien to tease him again but instead, Adrien just sighs and smiles.

“I know the feeling,” he says. “Two weeks without Marinette is a drag. Not that I don’t like hanging out with you, of course.”

“Thanks, bro,” Nino says dryly. Adrien rolls his eyes and opens his mouth to respond, except that the doors to the airport gate open and the shadows of the first few people off the plane loom against the corridor wall. Their banter is instantly forgotten as both men jitter on the spot and stand on their tiptoes to look out for their girlfriends.

“Did they get off last or something?” Adrien grumbles. “Hey, you think it’d be legal if I sat on your shoulders?”

“Dude, I’d totally sit on yours,” Nino says. “You’re heavy.”

Adrien raises his eyebrows. “Wow. Thanks. And here I thought we had something special.”

Nino maturely ignores his best friend in favour of continuing to search for Alya in the crowd. His heart leaps into his throat at the sight of a familiar reddish-brown bun, just behind a middle-aged white man with greying hair, and then the crowd parts and there she is, like a ray of sunshine.

“Alya!” Nino frantically waves his hands above his head, sparing only a fleeting thought for the people giving him strange looks as they walk past. Alya looks around at the sound of her name, and then she spots him and her face breaks into the most radiant smile that Nino’s ever seen, only making her look even more like a goddess from above.

“Nino!” Alya dodges around a young couple with all the grace of her superhero alter-ego, and Nino eagerly holds his arms open to catch her, but he’s still unprepared for the force that cannons into him and nearly bowls him over into Adrien.

“I missed you so much, babe,” Nino says into Alya’s hair. Alya just laughs and squeezes him tighter.

“Same. I even missed your snoring.”

“Wow. Thanks.” But Nino still holds her tight and relishes in her warm coconut smell, despite her super mean comments just seconds into their reunion.

2. Brainwashed

“Snap out of it!” Rena Rouge yells, despite the futility of trying to break through an akuma’s influence. Carapace just grins at her, but it’s all…wrong. It’s twisted, black-lipped, showing too much teeth, like he’s a shark rather than the turtle hero he’s supposed to be. 

Out of the corner of her eye, there’s a flash of red as Ladybug summons a Lucky Charm, but Rena can’t make out what it is and she’s too focused on her brainwashed boyfriend to look away for even a second.

 “Dammit!” Ladybug curses and grabs Rena’s arm to yank her out of the way of Gamer’s vivid green beam. “I need Carapace to make this plan work!”

“Well, he’s a little occupied!” Rena dodges one of Dark Cupid’s arrows, but then Carapace dives at her and she’s forced to jump away and duck under him to avoid the next one. It strikes him in the back harmlessly just as Rena swipes his legs out from underneath him, sending him crashing to the ground with a loud wheeze. Before he can bound back into the battle, Rena plants her knee on his chest and pins his wrists to the ground on either side of his head.

“Aww, how cute,” Carapace mocks. “Do you want a mid-battle cuddle, babe?”

“How d’you like that, huh?” Dark Cupid cackles. “Sucks to have your heart broken!”

“And to see your best friend in such pain!” Gamer chimes in. He fires at Chat Noir right as Dark Cupid shoots another arrow, which forces Ladybug to abandon her brainstorming to jump to Chat’s aid. Rena just groans and hangs her head, still keeping Carapace pinned to the ground. If only they had his Shellter – if only she could free him, bring him back –

“True love is a scam!” Dark Cupid howls distantly. With a sharp intake of breath, the most desperate of ideas slams into Rena’s brain and then, before she can second-guess herself and end up incapacitated, she leans down and presses her lips to Carapace’s with a silent plea.

For a moment, nothing happens. The battle between superheroes and akumas rages on in the background, but Rena’s vision has tunnelled to the boy beneath her, staring up at her with such hate in his eyes that’s the complete opposite of everything that Nino Lahiffe is and that she loves about him. And then the black fades from Carapace’s lips – he stares up with clouded, confused eyes, and Rena lets out a choked sob –

“Uh, babe?” Carapace says as she rains kisses all over his face. “Not that I’m complaining, but I don’t think this is the time.”

“You’re an idiot,” Rena splutters. “I hate you. Hurry up and get your lazy butt back into action before I run you through with my flute.”

3. Making up

“I’ll call you back, girl,” Alya says into her phone when the sound of the front door opening reaches her ears. There’s the dim sound of Marinette saying her goodbyes, but all Alya can focus on is the stiff-shouldered silhouette of her boyfriend standing in the living room doorway with a scowl on his face. But two can play the stubborn game, so Alya crosses her arms and glowers right back at him.

Neither of them says anything. The atmosphere thickens, until it’s so stifling that it could be popped with a pin like the massive superhero balloons paraded around Paris every year on Heroes’ Day. Alya toys with the idea of just getting it over with and swallowing her pride and caving first, except for the fact that she’s so not at fault here and why should she have to give in?

Except…it’s awful, this hostile air between them. And Nino had walked out but…he’d also come back. He came back. Just like he always does, whether it’s an argument about stealing the blankets or getting disintegrated by a smoke akuma just hours ago while Rena Rouge had been forced to watch helplessly. And if she has to swallow her pride and poke at this wound so that it can start to heal…is it worth throwing away what she’s got with him, everything they’ve been through together, just to be right?

“I’m sorry,” Alya blurts out just as Nino does. They pause, blink, and then laugh in unison, and Nino’s shoulders slump.

“I was way outta line,” he says. “And I shouldn’t’ve run away. I don’t want to lose you over some dumb argument.”

“I said some things I shouldn’t have as well,” Alya says. She holds out her arms. “Get over here, shellhead. You’re not getting rid of me that easily after everything we’ve been through.”

Nino moves so fast that he seems to materialise on the couch next to Alya, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. She hums and buries her nose in the crook of his neck, nuzzling to drink in his sweet smell of cinnamon and vanilla, surrounding herself in the warmth of being cherished and cared for by the most amazing man she’s had the fortune of meeting.

“Not even a whole horde of zombies could keep me from you, babe,” Nino says. Alya laughs softly.

“You’re still an idiot for just sitting there and letting the kissing zombies get you for no reason,” she says. “But I appreciate you staying with me, even if I don’t remember it.”

Nino squeezes her. “Always.”

4. Lost

“Nino!” Alya’s shriek echoes off the dark, glistening walls around her. But there’s no response, so she desperately tries again. “Nino!”

Nothing. She turns a corner and is greeted with an identical dark wall, which seems to have looped behind her and cut off where she’d just come from. Seems to have, because Alya doesn’t even know what’s going on with this constantly shifting maze, unable to even trust her own senses to truthfully inform her of where she is.

“Ladybug! Chat Noir!” Alya pounds on the wall in front of her. “Someone! Anyone!”

“Alya!” echoes faintly in response; so faint that Alya barely makes it out. But it’s there. She takes off running, losing any semblance of spatial awareness as she hurtles down identical dark corridor after dark corridor in this damn akuma maze, because someone (i.e., Jalil) had decided to get akumatised into a Greek minotaur complete with a labyrinth.

“Nino?” she calls.

“Alya!” comes back after a second, much closer than it had been last time. Alya takes a deep breath, closes her eyes for a moment to compose herself, and starts running again. Wherever Nino is in this labyrinth, she’s going to find him, because they haven’t gone through years of both superhero and mundane drama to be separated by a maze.

5. Down the aisle

“Will you settle down?” Adrien hisses. “You’re putting me on edge!”

“You’re always on edge, catboy,” Nino mutters in response, because if Adrien’s gonna act like he doesn’t wake up screaming half the time from the horrors he’s seen as Chat Noir then Nino’s damn well gonna call him out for it. He groans and tugs at his stiff white collar, wishing he could just tear it off already…but no, he can’t do that to Alya. Speaking of Alya, where is she?

“Rude,” Adrien says. “See if I make you my best man.”

“Go on, then,” Nino says. “Give it to Kim. I dare you.”

Adrien pauses, then shudders. “No way. I love Kim – I really do – but Marinette and I want everyone to walk away in one piece.”

“Chloé, then.”

“She’s already leaving super pointed voicemails about breaking gender stereotypes and appointing a best woman instead. I don’t need to encourage that drama.” Adrien pauses. “Why are you even trying to get out of it when I’m here for you?”

Nino rolls his eyes and prepares to fire off a witty retort, except for the fact that the guitarist starts to play the song he’s heard hundreds of times in Alya’s cheesy romance movies and Adrien immediately stands up straight, as does Marinette on the bride’s side. Nino turns and…oh. Oh.

“Oh my god,” he whispers. With the sun behind her to make her glow like an angel from the heavens, Alya glides down the grassy aisle they’ve set up in the Place des Vosges, her pure white dress hugging the curves of her hips and falling in layers of tulle around and behind her. Nino’s never been more grateful to Marinette than he is now for designing Alya’s dress as a wedding gift because…wow. Wow. Words? What?

“Hey,” Alya says softly when she reaches Nino and releases her father’s arm. Nino’s attempt to say anything even remotely intelligent results in a strangled, garbled mess that resembles no human language in existence.

“I can’t marry you,” Nino finally manages to coax himself to say. “You’re way outta my league. Holy –”

Good thing that Alya’s giggle interrupts him, or many children might have learned a very inappropriate lesson that day. He reaches out to thread his fingers through hers, transfixed by the loose curls falling around her face, the light dusting of makeup that frames her eyes and glistens her lips, and he must have managed to say his vows through his hypnosis at some point because the next words he’s able to comprehend are, “You may now kiss the bride,” and he’s never been happier to do as he’s told.

“I love you,” he croaks once he finally manages to pull away from Alya’s divine lips. Alya grins.

“I love you too, dork.”