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pedgito · 2 months ago

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𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑 | Marcus Acacius x f!reader

summary | A female gladiator plucked from the arena by the most powerful general in Rome, convinced to serve under his command. You learn that his taste for blood might not be so different from your own.

author's note | the horny demons strike again. this has a little plot, thanks to the beautiful minds of @ovaryacted and @kedsandtubesocks who deal with my crazy so generously.

content warning | 18+ mdni, set pre-gladiator ii, description of war & mistreatment of women in roman society, female gladiator, dark-ish!acacius, reader has minimal backstory, but is revealed to be nameless (uses monikers given to her: medusa, fury, minerva), fighting, m*rder, blood tw, gore tw, sa warning (i have it annotated further below with content, but nothing graphic) acacius covered in someone elses blood as he fucks you, copious smut, biting as a little treat

word count — 8k

“How much?” Acacius inquires, tapping his finger against the iron bars holding you prisoner, staring back at the men. The ginger twins and a man—no, a general. Dressed in a toga of thick material, embroidered with intricate designs, gold bangles at his wrist, a telltale sign of high honor.

“Oh, she is…” The older one, Geta, teeth digging into his bottom lip as he shakes his head, “priceless—quite the fighter, too.”

“Does she have a name?”

Geta smirks to himself, “They call her Medusa. She favors beheading, it seems.” Geta waggles a finger through the bars and smirks, nose scrunching as he addresses you, “Correct?”

You ignore him, responding with a stare—much like your given moniker; if looks could kill.

“She’s bested them all,” Caracalla boasts from beside his brother, Dundus fiddling with his hair from where she was perched on his shoulder, “even our lion that we’ve had since kids.”

“It was a stupid idea, your fault,” Geta retorts, “but—again, she’s not for sale.”

“I’ll conquer India within the next few nightfalls, a handful of new gladiators fresh for the choosing, for your entertainment—how does that sound?”

Greedy as they were and entirely too incompetent, Caracalla agrees before his brother can open his mouth.

“Will you bring her back to visit?” Caracalla inquires with an underlying excitement—the poor brother was nothing but a dunce, erratic and impulsive, but all too easy to manipulate. “The others may miss her.”

“Indeed,” Another swift but convincing lie, Caracalla and Acacius shake hands on the deal before Geta can retort, fuming with rage as he stomps away.

He’d taken a liking to your fighting style despite his distaste for the arena. Strategic and skilled, brute strength and a drive that was built around pure survival but somehow all while maintaining the perfect amount of gracefulness that men did not. Constant calculation, finesse, it was like an art.

He’s gone through several guards over his rule, some from sacrifice but others out of pure ignorance. He needed a strong base, malleable but resistant. He could shape you into a leader, he thinks. He knows.

Your hard stare is like ice as the keys jingle into the lock, a defining click a resounding echo of freedom and General Acacius extends his palm.

A gesture of freedom, a new life, trepidation fills you despite your yearn for a way out of this prison. Here it was, served up on a platter covered in intricate facets of white and gold, stubble brushing his cheeks and soft brown eyes offering kindness.

This was not a man of sheer violence, not the tales they tell about him—this was a man of trouble, conflict, and an instinct to protect himself. And he’d chosen you.

Your hands slips into his, a similar roughness to match his own and scars that Acacius knew well enough of—you were a true fighter, a warrior.

The two boys—calling the men would be too easy, they often acted like spoiled children, were already off to their own chambers, and Acacius had only dropped his hard facade slightly, still under the watchful eye of Rome’s guards, he led you onto your new life.

“I cannot accept,” You argue, as respectful as you could manage, hands crossed firmly over your front, near your waist as you spoke to General Acacius in his private office at home, a place few have stepped foot into, but yet somehow, again, you were given a free pass.

“Are you refusing my order?” Acacius counters, there’s pillowyness to his tone, almost taunting.

“Sir—er, General,” It was all new to you, formalities, structure, rules, “I…am a woman.”

“I am not blind,” Acacius squints his eyes slightly, before leaning back in the creaky chair, “my men—they will not question my choices. They listen, they do their duties. They need strong leadership. Gladiator, I believe you can bestow that upon them.”

“I am a stranger to you, you know nothing of me,” You tell him, a full truth, “General, I fear you may have made the wrong decision, I am not what you think I—”

Silently, Acacius fingers curl around the handle to a drawer hidden behind his desk, pulling out a sharp knife with a handle carved of bone, twisting it in his grip before he’s rearing his arm back, throwing it in your direction.

It zips by with force, the tip of the knife snagging and burying itself deep into the wall behind you, your head whipping to the side to follow it, the sharp blade barely missing the skin of your ear.

Quick reflexes. You turn back to a smirking Acacius.

“I am positive, had I thrown that between your eyes you would have caught it without overthinking the consequences—most of my men would do the same,” Acacius lectures, standing with his brutish frame and walking toward the wall, the soft flow of a breeze kissing at your fists.

“Though, I have another proposition,” Acacius says lightly, twisting the knife in his hand, the pointing spinning against his fingertip as he circles around you, “—attack me.”

“Sir,” You argue, “that surely defeats the purpose of—”

His fist balls up tight and aims for your side. Acacius sees it, the anticipation as you block his hand. He chuckles underneath his breath, “Please, continue,” He teases, twisting out of your grip to pull another punch that you block with ease—he was going easy, you think.

Natural reaction takes hold and his test quickly turns into a full-out brawl, twisting and slipping underneath his grip until you have him pinned against a nearby wall, teeth bared with his forearm pressed against his throat, struggling to grip his free arm.

The real test is here, as Acacius bares the knife near your neck, an immediate reaction to protect yourself rather than go for the kill shot, knowing that anyone of normal skill would be too full of bloodlust to think of anything other than killing you. Protection and defense came first, taking the small nick of a cut to your own forearm before you’re knocking the knife out of his hand and wrestling him to the ground with a swift kick to his leg, rendering him helpless.

“Indeed, you are exactly what I think you are,” Acacius says with finality, “I want you to lead my personal guard. Whatever it is I must do to obtain that, my lady I will do—riches, bribery—”

You push away from him with a heavy exhale, standing and adjusting your clothes, brushing your hair away from your face, “No need, I will do it.”

Acacius rolls to his back, hand extending once more.

This time, it is you offering the help as he uses the leverage to rise to his feet before speaking to you with a triumphant tone.

“Commander,” He grins, “let us plan.”

–

He often asks of your lineage, your home. But, there is nothing to offer. A long conquered piece of land now under the rule of Rome and a home that was never a home. An orphan you had always been, nameless, taking greedily whatever name was bestowed upon you.

In the arena it was Medusa, the tale of a vicious woman with god-like power. Caracalla had told you of the story, the boys having taken a liking to you in different ways. Geta was fiendish, hungry, often seeking you out for his own pleasure to which you wouldn’t deny. Couldn’t. He could be rough, but he wasn’t.

He seemed lonely, the poor boy.

Carcalla was only searching for a friend despite his unruly, chaotic nature. When he wasn’t ruling with tyranny over Rome, terrorizing the townspeople, he was telling you stories.

Other times it was only she. Or her. Or just girl. The girl.

You were only what people assumed of you, expected you to be.

“Medusa, ay?” A greasy looking man confirms, one of the six men who were to be under your command, “The gladiator?”

“You will respect her,” General Acacius had warned them, “or an apology will be your dying breath.”

It had struck most of them with fear. Most of them.

And for many nights, countless, it seems—the transition of leadership was smooth. You had an unyielding grip on them, awaiting direction, following your orders. It was the kind of rush most would only dream of, and as a woman, it was an unforeseen privilege.

“They address you as Medusa, too,” Acacius notes during a roundtable session as the other men wander off for dinner, “do you wish for them to address you differently?”

“I have no name, General,” You admit, “I am whatever I must be. If they think of me as so, that is what I am. Though, I would love to turn a few of them into stone, given I was granted her powers.”

“I believe you could manage that feat without them,” Acacius jokes, “—but, nameless? Even at birth?”

“I know nothing of my birth parents. They told me I was found wrapped in cloth under the bridge that led into the town your army eventually turned to rubble,” A bittersweet feeling, speaking unusually out of term, facing him with the facts, “though, it does not matter. I enjoy the fear they have of me, keeps wandering hands at bay.”

Such an enigma, Acacius eyes you curiously. It was the most you’ve opened up to him since retrieving you from your cell, and even then, still forcing him to face the consequences of war.

The guilt followed him at every waking moment.

“Do you need anything further of me, General?” You ask politely, “You have spoiled my appetite as of late and your men are greedy with the stew.”

“You are dismissed,” He speaks distantly, turning over the thick, coarse paper with a drawn out map of the territory they were to invade soon, a lingering well wish leaving his lips, “sleep well, commander.”

Unfortunately, you’ve turned to sleeping with a knife under your bedroll—with a lingering ache of betrayal, you weren’t allowing yourself to lower your guard.

The attacks do not start at night. Rather during the day, when the General is off and away, scouting ahead further when half of his army while the other half sticks at camp, keeping claim.

That is when the insults come, the disbelief, the mockery.

Most of his men settled with the idea, having accepted your position even if it displeased them.

But, there was one. Like a bull—hardheaded and stocky, fists and arms like clubs, testosterone radiating from his body in crashing waves. He wants you to fear him, submit to him.

You feel it. You see it. And you’ve been through it before, other large and brutish gladiators thinking with their muscles rather than their brains. It wouldn’t take long for them to meet their demise, but this one was…different.

He approaches you with a smile than anyone could see right through, a finger brushing your cheek as he pushes a strand of hair behind your ear, leaning in to brush his lips against the shell of it.

“They are hungry,” He drips of vicious intention, “—I say, you give us a show. Entertain us, Medusa.”

Your eyes snap to him, staring him down.

“Pitiful Acacius isn’t here to save you,” He warns, “though, I have reason to believe he is as weak as most men—spread your legs and he’ll be begging for a taste, too.”

“I will gut you where you stand,” You warn, reaching for the thick machete at your waist, “you’re like a pig. Brainless and greedy for whatever you can get. Touch me, I dare you.”

The rest of the men are relatively quiet, but they do not stop him. Smirks and half-smiles hidden behind their cups, lounging on a log near their tents, enjoying the entertainment.

It was nightfall, the fire crackling between you and them, a towering presence at your backside.

And as he dares to, his hand slides up your waist.

Without hesitation you flip the weapon in your grip, grabbing at his wrist and slicing at his arm—a featherlight touch, it was merrily a glorified papercut, but his eyes widened in shock.

“Let us see how well you touch without fingers,” You threaten, flipping the machete until it is pointing in his face, death grip on the handle if he dared to take it, taunting him with the sharp end of your blade, “hands?”

That deep, rumbling sound of hooves approaches through the darkness, everyone slowly falling back into their paces as you welcome back your General with a forced smile.

Acacius hands off the reins to another rider, taking scope of the situation that seemed to be defusing in front of him, but still—he notices. His eyes trade glances between you both before he nods at you to follow him.

Speaking under his breath, “The others have coined you as fury,” He laughs softly at the pseudonym, “little fury, they tell me. Like the Furies. I cannot say I disagree with them. Has he been pestering you long?”

Your brow furrows at the reference, lost on your ill-informed mind.

“Long enough,” You answer honestly, “though, he was bestowed a parting gift this time.”

You raise your blade, his blood still painting the weapon.

He raises the curtain to his tent, allowing you to enter before him.

“Do you know nothing of the Furies?”

“I was not privy to bedtime tales, General.”

He nods, thoughtful as his lips pull together in a thin line, slowly removing his armor as he sits, directing for you to take a seat opposite of him, a few feet away on a decaying stump.

“Goddesses,” He states simply, “of vengeance, striking the wicked down. You have…fire, deep within you. Do not let them put it out, it is your weapon.”

You nod obediently, feeling the humidity stick to your skin, clothes glued to your body as you sit in the uncomfortable heat. There was no world in which you felt safe enough to strip down, quell your body of this unbearable summer weather. You would rather suffer, thick garb covering your body.

Acacius tilts his head, but does not comment.

“I require your protection tomorrow, we must scout an additional day and I fear danger is imminent—relay this to them,” He instructs, “and my lady, if you fear they will visit you at night, that they might strike when you’re vulnerable, you are welcome here.”

He already anticipates your response—he knows, but the gesture was an offer. A kindness.

“If they try, you will be searching for new men by sunrise, General.”

Acacius smirks in amusement, nodding to your words.

“It would not be difficult to replace them,” He notes, “though, little fury, you are irreplaceable.”

General Acacius wasn’t an easy man to protect, but you managed. Over the few weeks that you had taken point within his guard it has leant you plenty of opportunities to prove your worth, slaughtering opposing soldiers like cattle for the glory of Rome, his booming voice pronouncing vie victis as the dead are laid rest under fire and smoke.

But, conflict comes when you are faced with a decision as the camp was raided under complete, utter darkness. It was your shift to guard the General, perched outside of his tent with constant, roaming eyes. Eventually, you drift. It was peaceful, nature taking hold and pulling you under, awoken to the sound of blood curdling screams, the ground painted with the innards of both Acacius’ men and the others.

You were forced with a choice—defend the camp, something Acacius would have told you to do in a moment of desperation, a self-sacrificing man himself. Ironic, given your position, that you even think otherwise. Of course, your feet pull you toward him, whipping the flowing fabric of his tent door back.

There was a knife at his neck, a man towering over him. He’d snuck past—taken advantage of your exhaustion and your mistake was putting the General’s life at risk, his face stoic as he pushed back against the blade with his palm.

Without thinking, you rush toward the man, pulling back at his collar to plunge the knife pointed at Acacius into his own throat, a silent death through the notch of his neck, the blood flowing out like a river, tossing the lifeless man to the side before you’re reaching for your General.

“Do not worry,” He assures you as he rises, still groggy from sleep, “go—protect our camp.”

“But, General,” You plead, not realizing that your hand was grasping on his own, or that he had initiated the touch as a gentle push, a confirmation that he was truly alright, “it is my fault.”

His eyes peer behind you and to the man lying lifeless on the floor, blood pooling around his body.

“Though, it seems you have done your duty,” Acacius comments, head turned down as he stares at the body before his eyes peer up at you under his dark lashes, pensive, “now—kill them.”

You had lost a hundred or so men, nothing to the army of five thousand, but any loss was felt within General Acacius’ army—men of honor, with families or not, deserved a proper farewell.

Covered in the blood of many, some of your friends and some of strangers, hair matted and reeking of death, you approach General Acacius who was sending off a group of men to begin digging the mass grave to dispose of the bodies.

Your body ached, bruised and nicked from battle—you had killed at least five hundred men alone. Pure rage and fury, not a memory of it as you approached him now, a blank stare void of emotion that concerns Acacius, his hand reaching for your wrist as you begin to pass him, heading for your own tent to collapse in exhaustion.

“You did well,” He notes, catching your gaze as he turns his head to infiltrate your line of sight, “wash off before you turn in, you…reek. There’s a river beyond the bend—clean, warm.”

You nod despite only paying half-attention to his words, walking mindlessly toward the river before you are faced with the unfortunate crowd of men, undressed to their natural state, avoiding the watchful eyes and preying gazes, stripping your armor off down near the empty end of the river, pulling at your tangled hair, pulling off each remaining piece of clothing despite your body’s protest, screaming for relief.

It wasn’t unfamiliar, the looks—you bathed alongside all the men under the arena without a thought, knowing most of them were vying for freedom and wouldn’t dare risk it by allowing their cocks to work overtime, forgetting rational thought.

But, to them, you were a trophy. Someone—something, to be conquered.

The thin, flimsy undergarments come off last, stepping into the water and sinking down slowly. The blood washes away as you scrub, back turned as you dip your head into the water before committing entirely, plugging your nose as you dip underneath the water, finding peace in the silence.

“I had my doubts, Medusa,” A voice bellows from behind as you rise, your eyes peeling open with a quickly growing annoyance, “of you being a true woman, but—”

“Careful,” One of the men warned, a stable boy, “she will run to the general.”

It was the same man from many nights ago, big and brutish, always looking for a fight, even with the other men. He hadn’t learned his lesson, clearly.

“Acacius is busy,” He retorts, “so—what say you give us the show you owe us?”

You stand frozen in place, staring daggers at the man who seems only more amused as the anger in you builds, permeates.

(sa themes below: noncon touching, reader is naked in front of several men)

“Get out of the water,” He demands, “unless you prefer I come get you.”

You survey your choices, knowing that staying in the water wasn’t a safe option. They can and will wait you out. Your eyes track toward your clothes, further away than you had left them. Your eyes track the scar on his forearm and you smirk, teething peeking out behind your lips, “How beautiful,” You tell him, his eyes slowly following your own, “quite the scar, is it not? Fancy another?”

You spot the knife sheathed in his leather belt, taking your chances despite the vulnerability that remains with your naked frame on full display as you retreat from the water, he nods with confidence as you approach, a faint whistle in the distance that you’ve heard before. The oaf seems to ignore it, though. His large hand comes to your breast in an instant, body dripping wet and a sickness churning in your gut as the sticks of torch and fire approach amongst the murmuring crowd of men, less than subtle about the rowdiness that was ensuing.

He pulls you into his body with a greedy hunger as his opposite hands gropes at your backside, following the curve of your ass as your hand snakes toward the blade, but the voice that rips through the crowd is enough to wake the dead, silence falling over the area in an instant.

“Remove your hand,” Acacius voice travels, the same booming voice he uses to declare victory over a new territory, “or I will remove it myself.”

“General,” The man addressed in a drunkish manner, inviting, “she was offering—Medusa, tell him.”

Your silence is expected, his hand wandering toward your other breast, biting hard enough at the inside of your cheek that it draws blood—Acacius sees your hand wrapping around the blade and speaks again, approaches closer as the mud sticks to his boots, “I will tell you once more. Remove it.”

The man eyes you with disdain, dropping his hands away as you relinquish your hold of his weapon, allowing the breath caught in your chest to escape, but it doesn’t stop the touch that follows, taunting with its intention as his palm curls around the back of your head, tilting your head to the side as he squeezes, “I forget—you are the General’s property after all.”

(end of sa themes)

“Take him,” He orders the other lingering guards, men who’ve never shown you anything other than respect—they value their lives and limbs, as any sane person would, “and start the fire.”

Acacius looks around at the lingering eyes, “I suggest all of you return to camp. Now.”

That was all it took, most of them scrambling for their own clothes and armor as they retreated like scurrying mice or dogs with their tail between their legs, leaving you under Acacius' careful gaze. He reaches down to fetch you dirtied clothes, looking them over with disgust.

He removes the black cape around his shoulders without a word, opening it as an offering. Desperate to cover yourself, you slip your arms in the sleeves with his help, his eyes wandering no further than your face as you turn to him, tucking the cape around yourself. He reaches for the hood, pulling it down.

“Come,” He demands, “I would like you to witness.”

–

The screams are audible as you approach camp, a few feet behind Acacius as he rounds the fire and separates the crowd to create a path, approaching the man bound at his feet, one arm roped at his side and secured away, leaving him to fight the men that held him down.

“General, gen—general, I am sorry,” He pleads, “she—you do not understand, she taunts. She is poison, not a leader,” He continues, despite Acacius lack of response, making a motion with his hand to remove the man’s weapon and hand it to him, pulling it from it’s leather cover and examining the blade, he makes a soft sound to himself, “Acacius—you have known me for years. Do not let this woman trick you.”

“Gag him,” He ignores his pleading, leaning down to grip the hand of the man bound below, “your humility is amusing, but your greed is what is costing you. She has shown you mercy, but I will not.”

The cut isn’t a clean slice, either. It takes several swings before the limb detaches, blood spurting out of the appendage as the man screams in pain, dragged helplessly toward the fire before they’re cauterizing the wound—your body unreactive as you watch but silently stewing with frustration.

He had spared the man, sure. But, making a show of it? A mockery?

“Commander, with me,” General Acacius demands, waiting for you to snap back into reality, your eyes meeting his face, blood covering his armor and hands, somehow avoidant of most of the mess.

When you are alone, you don’t hold back.

“I would have handled him,” You tell him, “killed him myself.”

“This is not the arena, we do not go around slaughtering our men without reason,” Acacius retorts, “he will be demoted and replaced and be a reminder to the others that you—”

“I do not need you defending my honor, General.”

“Men will not change, this—society, it does not cater to your safety. To them, women are nothing but vanity and pleasure—”

“And property,” You remark, “lest you forget how you obtained me, General.”

Acacius approaches you near the table at the center of his tent, only a foot away as he removes his armor plate, pulling it over his head, “Had I not, you would have paid for your own freedom eventually. I needed a leader—strong, smart, powerful.”

“By punishing that man, you are sending the message that I need my battles fought for me,” You argue, “and as if these men did not already think I was the General’s plaything, what will they think now?”

Acacius sighs through his nose, pulling at the fabric of his tunic that bares his chest, “I believe they will behave,” He tells you, “because you will not be as kind when you take their heads. He was an example and a pain in my ass for years, he deserved more than that.”

“And what will they think of me now? I am naked under this cloak, your cloak. I must walk the path back to my tent surrounded by men deprived of the things your bestial minds crave.”

Acacius chuckles to himself, “I have been thinking,” He begins, “that you deserve a new name. Something indicative of all that you are. Some of the men award each other with monikers of war. Medusa seems to have become more of a taunt, in light of recent events.”

He unties the leather bands at his wrist, eyeing you with a mischievous gaze as he keeps you waiting, “Have you heard the tale of Minerva, my lady?”

It isn’t a surprise, but you shake your head.

“A goddess of many things—strategy, warfare, victory, and justice…but mostly importantly, wisdom. I have seen the way you command the battlefield, it is not lost on me.”

“You have…many stories, General.”

“My mother told me one every night as she tucked me, it seems they have stuck with me.”

Tell me more, the words linger in the back of your throat.

“I am barely standing, General. I must retire for the night.”

“Indeed,” He agrees, shamelessly stripping down to his undergarments to walk toward the clean bowl of water and wash away the drying blood, “and Minerva,” the name is completely foreign, but you respond with a hum, “your position is yours alone. You have earned it. Do not let them tell you otherwise.”

Like Medusa, the name sticks.

And thankfully, you were a few weeks away from a much-earned break from war, returning to Rome as a free woman for the first time, having finally fallen into a comfortable rhythm with the rest of his personal guards—a mutual respect that had been missing, men waiting for your command.

Long nights of planning spent in Acacius tent, surrounded by the other guards until they filter out one by one, growing curiosity and questions lead to many hours of conversation that you, for many months, had been deprived of in the arena.

“You did promise my return,” You remind him, “they will be expecting you to keep that.”

“They are young, fickle men,” Acacius berates with amusement, “I am sure they have moved on.”

“Do you fear them? The emperors?”

“They are spoiled brats,” Acacius responds, an answer in itself.

“They would visit me often,” You admit, “Caracalla seemed to be—it seems the syphilis in his loins was truly affecting his brains, often he would not even make sense. Or he would come to me, complaining of his brother.”

“You had built quite the rapor,” Acacius notes with a smile, sipping at the broth from his stew as he invites you to sit on his fancy, expensive bed cot. Much nicer than your own, cushioned and wrapped in velvet, “What of Geta?”

“He liked my breasts,” You begin bluntly, “and my—”

“He forced himself upon you?”

“I was property of Rome, Acacius,” You didn’t often say his name in such a relaxed way, blaming it on the full belly and exhaustion, “therefore I was his. I have suffered much worse than a lonely man searching for comfort.”

Acacius seems thoughtful, pensive as he stirs at his quickly diminishing stew. He does catch your lingering gaze on his face after a while, mesmerized by the scar underneath his eye, he encourages you.

“Ask, if you are so curious, my lady,” He places his bowl to the side, empty.

“Your scar,” You nod, pressing your finger in a mirroring way under your eye, “is there a story?”

“Nothing to be told with boast,” He chuckles, “a wound of battle, is all. Like many of the scars on my body,” He tells you, raising his naked forearm to display the various scars, noting the few that paint his clavicle, “and you, Minerva?”

It seems to have become a particular quirk of his, a lilt to his voice as he calls you by your given name—the others have become accustomed to it, too. But, with Acacius, it felt special. Treasured.

You raise your eyebrows at his question, quietly unlacing your top to pull it down your shoulder, sliding a hand over your breast to respect the dynamic between you both—him being your general and you, his subordinate. His eyes squint as he examines the jagged and staggered scar on the side of your breasts—not quite faded, healed but relatively fresh.

“He is a biter,” You warn him with amusement, “Geta.”

Only one scar, given by one of the emperors, somehow untouched from real battle. It was miraculous. You readjust your top, feeling the heat from your neck rise to your face at what you had just willingly offered over to Acacius. Unfortunately, he had a way of lowering your guard.

With that talk, it seemed like a true breakthrough in your partnership with Acacius.

He always allowed you to speak for yourself, never overstepping the boundary you had argued with him over, leading the charge with an iron fist and handling the younger, fresh faced soldiers who just seemed…lost.

It was hard to ignore the lingering glances over time, often during meetings as you spoke, not a look of attention but rather…ravishing. Hungry, but in a subdued manner. You weren’t sure where the lines had blurred, but they had.

Possibly somewhere within the long nights of conversation or the lingering touches that shouldn’t have been as charged as they were, handing over a piece of armor or blade and his calloused fingertips would circle your wrist, pause, before his brain would catch up to his actions.

“Go on,” He encourages after a final night of victory and triumph, many of the men howling and singing tunes around the fire, drinking from their cups and enjoying the pleasures of alcohol and comradery, “you are missing the fun,” He was unnaturally quiet, subdued to his quarters, leaning against the outside of his tent as he watched with amusement but subtle dismay.

A younger man approaches with his hand extended, a gleeful expression on his face, “Minerva, please—come, you must enjoy the party, too.”

The general gives you an expectant look as you let the young man lead you away, curling his fingers around your own and pulling you with vigor, cheering loudly to blend in with the energy of the men despite how you worry about the man several feet away, your eyes tracking his disappearing figure as he slips into his tent, eventually pulled away by another man, one of the guardsmen who adored you, asking for a dance.

You agree hesitantly as the crowd roars louder, eyes searching for the exact reason as you see a few men leading a line of women into camp, little clothing to allow them modesty, a less than subtle shushing come from the men as they lead them deeper into camp, and the fear in you tells you to run to the General.

“It is not what you think,” The young man tells you, “they are dancers—no harm will—”

You bypass him, straight toward the men leading the path, stopping them cold.

“They are not here against their will, my lady.” He assures you, though, that could be argued.

“Minerva, Acacius has made it clear that harming women, you—is far worse a crime than anything else. Truly, it is not what you believe it to be.”

“I am telling the General, informing him of their presence,” You admit, “so I suggest you and the rest of the cattle be on your best behavior?”

They both give crisp, curt nods.

As you make the direct line for Acacius’ tent, you are ignorant to his silent plea for privacy at the tied rope, intertwined with gold fabric, pushing apart the fabric doors without much of a thought, reality hitting you as you catch a glimpse of his naked frame, patting down his body with a clean cloth as he washed himself, other hand curved around his cock as he stretched his neck up and back, the water splashing as he dipped the towel into the basin, only aware of your present when you make a small, unrecognizable sound as a result of your own stupidity.

“I—General,” Your eyes widen as they take on a mind of their own, straight down the valley of his chest as he turns to you, quickly spinning on your heels, “I should have—I apologize, uh, the men…they are—”

“I was informed,” He assures, “and they have been warned, I assure you.”

“Yes, hm—um,” It was the only time Acacius had seen you flustered

“I assumed the rope was a clear message,” Acacius teases, “but—it is not your fault. I should have informed you of their…antics.”

He pulls the tight, fabric shorts over his hips, clearing his throat, peering over your shoulder you breathe a sigh of relief, “General, I would like to apologize for—” You swallow, watching as he turned barefoot on his heels, the fabric of the immodest undergarments curving around the stretch of his cock, half-hard under the fabric and the outline of thick head pushing against the linen.

You don’t realize how long you’re staring until he’s approaching with a tap of his finger on the underside of your chin, “There is no need for that,” He assures you, your nose scrunching up in confusion at the sudden touch, feeling the subtle shift as he reaches behind you for the clothes folded on the table at your backside, “surely you must return to the party,” He encourages, “celebrate a well-earned victory.”

“Why?” You counter, “When you will not.”

“Minerva,” He warns.

“You are distracted,” You note, watching as Acacius now avoids your gaze, “it is worrying me.”

He cannot admit the reason why. That it may be you.

“Acacius,” You call his name, hoping that will break through to him.

“Leave me,” He asks, rather than demanding, “I need to rest.”

It was a lie, but you do not fight him on it.

–

Silence blankets the camp in the early morning hours—the witching hours, as you’ve come to know them. Sleeping securely in your tent, bedroll tucked under your head as you drift. Unaware of the creeping men planning your untimely demise, assuring that the entire camp was asleep before they strike, arms and legs rendered useless as the third shoves a piece of cloth into your mouth and ties it around the back of your head, screams muffled behind the fabric, stripped of your weapons. Helpless, they think.

During the struggle, one of them grows frustrated, banging the hard rock against your skull and plunging you back into darkness.

When you come to, you are unclear of where you are, but it was outside, arms above your head against the thick limb, feet bound tight as well, a sting and a string of wetness running down the side of your face as your blurry vision becomes clear.

“Little Minerva,” the voice begins mockingly, all too familiar to your ears, “he has named you—you must feel special, ay?”

He kneels in front of you, the one hand he has left curling around the forearm of what was left of his other appendage, “And you expect to return back to Rome as a free woman,” He laughs, snorts wetly through his nose, “I assure you that will not happen. Rather, you will be a dead one.”

The other two lingering figures join in on the laughter.

“How did you say it?” He taunts, “I will gut you where you stand?”

“It took three of you to capture me,” You retort, “your confidence is lacking sorely.”

He clears the back of his throat, rearing up a ball of saliva in his mouth before he’s spitting at you.

“I will slaughter all of you with my hands,” You promise, “untie me, unless you are fearful.”

Driven by ego, it doesn’t take much for him to agree.

But, as he had underestimated you the first time, and the second, he would regret the third.

The two men come at you first, enough tussling and your teeth ripping into the ear of one of them, searching blindly for a thick, heavy and sharp edge branch that would handle the weight of piercing through skin and muscle, finding the right weapon at the perfect moment—the attacker rearing back as the other approached, driving the make-shift stake through his chest as the other tackled you to the ground, a poor miscalculation on his part as you get your legs around his neck, arms pinned at an painful, awkward ankle until his neck snaps from the force, the ox-like man awaiting in the shadows like a coward, blood spilling from your mouth as you scream.

The heavy hooves approach like roaring thunder and the instant your attacker catches on, his attempts to flee are ruined by the barricade of men at all angles, General Acacius at the head of the charge, a rageful expression on his face. Feral unlike you have ever seen.

He jumps off of his horse, ordering the men to capture the surviving man once again, looking around at the lifeless bodies beside you, assuring his men he would handle you and the mess, demanding they return to camp at once.

You look around aimlessly, blood staining your face as Acacius struggles to capture your attention, eventually resorting to a strong, demanding hold on your face, cradling your head with his hands.

“Are you wounded?” He asks, then notices the trail of blood from your scalp, pushing away the hair to reveal with gash from the rock they had attacked you with, grimacing as he runs his finger over the wound in worry.

Suddenly, you are stricken with a need, “Give me your sword,” You tell him, eyes flicking up to meet his own, “I need your sword.” His movements are too slow, still concerned with you that you reach for the weapon yourself.

Pulling away, you approach one of the dead men with the sword, swinging it up over your head and down with force, beheading him in one go, before switching to the other man, less finesse as you swing—again and again, until there is nothing but a pool of blood, bone, and brain—Acacius steps in eventually, tossing the sword away as he holds you arms in his fierce grip, letting the screams rip from your chest as he sways with you, eventually falling to your knees in exhaustion. He uses his bare hands to wipe the blood away from your neck, your face, feeling the soft shake of your body as you sob in silence, overcome with an emotion you so rarely let surface.

–

The public execution follows the next morning, everyone rousing from their tents to the loud, blaring horn from the ship just off shore—Acacius had assisted you back to camp on his horse, slumped against his back as you rode until the trampling finally stopped, sliding off the horse and into Acacius’ arms as he led you inside his tent.

He didn’t sleep the entire night, watching over you instead—he rarely blinked, staring off into nothingness as he tried to keep the vicious rage at bay, by morning, he was itching.

“You may stay,” He tells you, “your head—I cleaned it while you slept.”

You shove his hand away as he attempts to help you sit, slowly dressing yourself, eventually putting together the fact that Acacius had undressed and bathed you at some point throughout the night, not a speck of blood or spit remaining.

“Are you ordering me to stay?”

Acacius shakes his head, his hand still hovering close by.

“Then I will attend.”

He doesn’t argue against it and there is, despite your weariness to admit, a relief of your chest as Acacius rears back his blade, silencing the final scream the man lets out, pleading for his life. The blood sprays over his face, a strong grimace at the sheer strength it takes to behead the man, but the general manages it with one strike of his blade.

His speech follows, a deep and unsettling warning to all of his men. A final one.

Men, wide-eyed with fear, agree without resistance before he sends them off to ready the ship for departure and a meal before they begin their long trek back to Rome—he is less than gentle as he grabs your wrist without warning and pulls you alongside him, back to his tent.

–

He ties the rope with a stiff tug, before turning to you, stumbling on your feet as pull off his cape, having offered it to you for a second time, assuring that dressing in your usually armor wasn’t needed today, not as you began your travels, a flowing dress tied at your shoulder and waist that you were used to wearing during the showings back in Rome, parading you around like a prize.

“Acacius, perhaps you should sit,” You suggest, watching his hands curl into fists at his sides before he’s spinning on his heels and toward you, cradling your face like he had the night prior, but even this close, it felt like he was trying to keep you at a distance, “—I am sorry, if I did something—”

“I crave you,” Acacius admits, “you must know.”

Your lips part, gearing up the courage to speak, but falling short.

“Nights I have spent,” He breathes, shaking his head, the curls tickling your forehead as they meet, “thinking—wondering—”

“Acacius, why now?” You question him, “As we are homebound, back to your wife. Surely, she would have my head.”

Acacius shakes his head with a soft, but fond laugh.

“Our marriage is complex,” He explains, “Something I do not care to explain in great detail at this moment, you see—,” His hand curves around the side of your neck, tilting your head up, lips grazing against his own as he speaks, “I had no such intention for things to get like this, but you have proven to make things…difficult, for me,” He breathes out through his mouth, his eyes opening slowly to meet yours, “and I need you, should you have me.”

You could easily deny him, knowing he would back off in an instant. But, like this, clearly driven by adrenaline and instinct, riding the high of such a charged execution, he was craving something deeper than an outlet to release the built up tension.

He craved connection—through little moments of conversation and touches, someone at level-ground, an equal. You were his equal. He’d given you so much since, and you would be lying to yourself if you denied the thoughts that had riddled your mind too.

“I do not much prefer a soft touch,” You finally reply, “or gentle care.”

He silences you with a kiss, bruising and tense as he licks into your mouth, hungrily searching for more areas to taste and devour, licking along the column of your neck as the blood of another smeared into your skin, his fingers working quietly to undo your dress, in turn wrestling with his armor and clothes, nearly ripping the fabric of his shirt from his body as you claw at him.

Wet kisses and clashing tongues fill the silent room, a screeching sound as your back hits the roundtable before he’s lifting from the back of your thighs and scooting you onto the surface, naked and bare as he spreads your thighs apart to move between them, clearly restraining himself as he licks, teeth grazing carefully.

“I enjoy them,” You admit, “Do not hold back, Acacius. They are what I will keep with me, if this be the only time.”

Like a dog cut loose of his chain, his teeth sink into the breasts mirror the mark of the other, hissing as his teeth break through the skin just enough for the subtle trickling of blood to rise to the surface before he’s soothing the wound with his tongue, staring up at you through a half-lidded gaze, prowling for more. He dips lower, falling to his knees as he pulls you toward the end of the table, ass hanging near the edge as his teeth sink into your thigh, near the swell of your cunt as you moan, fingers digging into sweaty, matted curls.

“Acacius,” You plead breathily, “I want your mouth.”

Where—it did not matter. But, Acacius fulfills that need as he licks a broad strip through your cunt, nose buried in the coarse curls, still smelling of the fresh soap he had bathed you in, taking delicate care as he washed your body, letting you slump into him, soaking him in the process.

“Yes, that—” You respond airily, eyes fluttering shut as his tongue dips inside of you, swirling your slick around on his tongue and sucking harshly at your clit, staring up at you daringly from his position beneath you, unwavering, “oh, gods above…”

Acacius chuckles below you,the sound vibrating against your cunt as your moans increase rapidly, thick fingers dipping inside your pulsating core, “This high—it feels like—”

He rises to press a kiss against your stomach, climbing, tongue licking over your belly button and between your breasts, “—like…” He encourages, “come on, my lady, do not sell out on me now,”

“Like a battle high,” You admit with a faint laugh, “though, different, but….”

He understands, driven by unbridled need, uncapped adrenaline.

“Well, vae victis,” He taunts, “now—come here,” He squeezes at your hips and pulls you to him, his cock stiff, throbbing between your legs before he is twisting and spinning you around, feet planting against the ground as he bends you over, fisting himself tight as he rubs his thick cock head between your folds, watching as your wetness coats him, sinking into your fluttering hole with little resistance, a sweet cacophony of noises releasing from your throat as you grip onto nothing, hand curling into a fist as you moan, open-mouthed and shameless.

“Harder,” You beg, forcing the word out between thrusts, blunt fingernails clawing at your hips, attempting to pull you in closer despite your proximity, as if he could consume and even that wouldn’t be enough, “Acacius, please.”

It was like instinct, his hand sliding up the back of your thigh to lift your leg up, pinning it up—up, until you feel the ache in your sore muscles as he holds you in place with a fist between the bend of your knee, heaving breaths at your neck as he fucks you into the hard surface of the table.

It was a pain you would feel in your bones, that would carry with you into the morning, marks that would last for longer, a remnant of this moment, the mess of blood smearing on your own skin as he melts against you, forehead resting against your shoulder as his gaze follows the movement of his hips, slow but powered thrusts that drilled into you, clawing at his skin to leave your own bruises. The hand that brushes against your core is your ultimate demise, feeling breathless as your orgasm pulls you under, muffled sobs into your fist as you bite down, fearful that it might draw attention. Though, Acacius seems preoccupied, still.

His hand seeks your neck, digging in as he pulled you up, “To your knees,” He demands softly, your body moving out a memory, dropping to the floor—though, the sight is much more tantalizing, Acacius fisting his cock tight, feral as he teeth were bared, like a man fresh from the slaughter, he comes with a deep and guttural groan, your tongue sliding against the underside of his bulbous head, thick spurts coating your tongue, his body shaking as you pull away, swallowing all that he had offered with a steady, locked gaze. He assists you upright, steadying you.

“For a man who has such a distaste for unnecessary violence, you wear it well,” It wasn’t a compliment, rather an observation, his eyes tracking your naked frame, fingertips tracing the curves of your body in admiration.

“You are quite inspiring, Minerva,” He admits, gathering your thick dress and helping you redress in silence, tying the material around your body, “not everyone deserves mercy.”

Your smile is rare, but it is beautiful. And he wasn’t a man for such dramatics.

But, it could bring him to his knees, he thinks.

#general acacius #marcus acacius #marcus acacius x reader #marcus acacius x you #marcus acacius x y/n #general acacius x reader #general acacius x you #gladiator ii #gladiator ii fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #my writing

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shadykazama · 4 months ago

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Hello! Your headcanons on Wukong/Destined One had me giggling so much 😊 they're so great, couldn't stop rereading.

Um, if it's alright, can I ask for some Wukong/Destined One x Reader with their baby? Feral daddy monkey in his nesting phase with his mate and baby is so— 🤭

Absolutely! I have a lot of thoughts and the people demand more monkey business- so let's get down to it.

❤ Wukong

Starting with the pregnancy~

He is ELATED.

The idea of a proper heir had never crossed his mind because well- he's immortal. He doesn't need one. But that doesn't mean the idea of his own flesh and blood isn't positively exciting.

There's a chance he knows you're pregnant before you do. What with all of his special powers and heightened senses.

Celebrates privately with you of course but it becomes a mountain-wide event very quickly.

You are showered with praise and blessings by all the monkeys.

He will never miss a chance to brag that he's going to have a baby. And he's definitely smug about it too, thinks your child is going to surpass even his power.

When you start showing he gets more smothering.

Don't forget our king's fatal flaw! He thinks he knows what's best.

Will limit how much you travel and makes sure you always have at least two attendants by your side while he's gone.

Which, once you get further along, isn't often. There were plenty of superstitions about pregnancy in ancient China, as well as a high infant mortality rate- and that's not even counting what complications could happen due to the magical nature of your child. So he'd be stressed.

He expresses stress through aggression (canon), though it's never pointed at you. He'd be fiercely protective over the mountain, but especially any of the areas you regularly stay in. He'd be very snappy at everyone for the entire second half of the pregnancy, except you of course, who he'd be showering with praise and reverence.

Likes holding your stomach while you rest and tells your baby about the great lineage they're being born into, recounting his titles and strength and promising them they'd be greater.

He's hoping for a boy, but he's assured his child will be spectacular regardless of the gender.

When you give birth he will be extremely focused. He can't afford to be weak in a moment when you need him most. (Though your cries of pain and effort will certainly make his heart ache.)

As you're holding your baby for the first time, his teasing, smug attitude is nowhere to be seen. He just looks at you as if you'd given him the universe itself.

Cutest baby ever might I add 👆.

It's a Chinese tradition that only immediate family is allowed to meet the baby for the first 100 days after it's born, so it'd just be you and him for a majority of three months unless you invite your family to meet them.

In traditional fashion, on the 100th day a banquet is held to officially introduce the baby to everyone. And MY GOD would it be an event...

Besides all of the monkeys on the mountain who want to celebrate their new prince/princess, I can't even imagine how many celestials and demons would come to pay their respects and blessings- be it out of fear or respect.

Either way, expect a very long day and a LOT of gifts.

^ Wukong doesn't leave your side for the entire day. I dare someone to try and pull something.

You'd expect with his trickster personality that he'd be a very lenient dad, but Wukong is surprisingly dutiful in making sure your child doesn't turn out lazy or ignorant.

That by no means is to say he wouldn't be a wonderfully playful father. He'd have a wonderful connection with his child, and his most important lesson to them would be to respect their mother ;)

More of a one kid kind of guy, so he'd probably stop after the first, unless you had twins or triplets.

As protective as he was with you when you were pregnant, he's pretty chill with the actual kid. He knows they're durable and will let them get roughed up doing dumb stuff.

Carries them around hanging off his tail and will pretend like he doesn't know where they went.

It's like how cats will let their babies 'sneak up on them' to encourage them to keep trying. He does the same thing with your kid when they try to trick him.

Your baby would be the most respectful little shit ever. A little shit nonetheless, but would do anything for you or their father.

All the monkeys on the mountain help keep an eye on the little sage so you'll never feel lost or alone in parenting. It's very much a joined effort and your baby will see the other monkeys as their family as well!

This wonderful piece of Sun Wukong was done by @kanade-howl here on tumblr! They post their work on Twitter as well at @kanaade_ and @_liehuzuo please support them!

💙 The Destined One

Give him a bunch of babies I beg you.

He'd get addicted, he wants a big family for SURE.

When you first tell him you're pregnant he'll probably take some time to fully soak it in.

You'll be used to being patient with him at this point, but I imagine something like this is really nerve wracking so don't feel bad if you rush him for a response.

He'll put a hand on your stomach as if he's checking for himself before picking you up and smothering you with love.

He's not a chatty guy but he'll let you know how happy he is!

^ That being said, during your pregnancies is the most talkative he'll ever be.

He doesn't want you to stress about communicating and knows your body is going through a lot so he pushes himself to talk more to make sure you get everything you need.

That doesn't mean he'll be a chatterbox by any means. More than nothing is still very slim :')

Expect a lot of one word questions.

Trusts you more than he trusts his own instincts. His instincts tell him you shouldn't be climbing or moving around much- but if you want to, who's he to tell you what to do? He's not the one pregnant 🤷‍♀️

Follows you around like a guard dog when you do though, doesn't matter what you're doing.

Somehow even more physically affectionate than normal. Will insist on holding your hand when you walk so you can lean your weight on him.

When you start showing he'll be amazed. It's not that he's never seen a pregnant person before but like... That's his baby in there and he can't believe it.

His favorite thing to do is lay his head against your stomach while you're resting. Will kiss your skin and adore the life you're making.

You can catch him whispering things to your baby while he's resting his head on your stomach.

Your body is going to ache and he is more than happy to massage it for you. He doesn't even need an excuse to touch you, but he'll find them anyway.

Once you get further along and it gets harder for you to get around, he'll pick you up and take your wherever you want to go- within reasonable distance from your home of course. Not because he can't take you further, he just doesn't want to in case something happens.

But he wants to make sure you get fresh air and still see the beauty outside of your bed.

Doesn't trust anyone to watch you. It's him or nothing.

Makes offerings and prays to the goddess of childbirth. He does this a few times before you catch him and start helping.

He's a bundle of nerves when you're giving birth. If you weren't preoccupied, it'd probably be painfully obvious how nervous he was.

Holds you while you hold your baby and will not stop telling you how much he loves you and how perfect the baby is.

Gets baby fever bad.

Baby will be spoiled, and so will any other baby after that.

Huge advocate for carrying the baby. If you're not opposed to it, he probably carries them more than you.

Has the most deadpan look on his face as he looks at this baby but he has so much adoration for his little miracle.

Stressing over your baby crying in the middle of the night? Not with him! He's at that babies beck and call.

Watching a nearly mute man deal with a curious child is definitely amusing and you get a front row seat.

Your children kind of just accept that their dad doesn't talk much, but he'll always tell them he loves them if they say it to him.

Takes them everywhere with him so he can teach them. Is SO proud when the oldest starts helping teach the younger ones.

He's proud of them in general honestly.

Your kids are going to be super loving and curious. I think he'd foster really healthy relationships between all of them.

You'd have a whole team taking care of you if you ever got sick.

#sun wukong x reader #sun wukong #headcanons #black myth wukong #the destined one x reader #I've been waiting on someone to ask this #rahhhhhhhhh #they'd be such good dads 😭

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evilminji · 1 year ago

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Okay, as I have mentioned, I'm Ace AF. And you know that plot line in kids cartoons where the alien or foreign Warrior Royalty just sort of *violently kicks down door in full armor* "We Will Marry."? I?? Always said:

"Sure!" (#OhThankFUCK!)

Like what do you mean "No"? The powerful, attractive, monarch that is very into you has travel a great distance JUST to marry you! Now you don't have to date! They seem nice! You can skip the whole "trying to find a life partner" awkwardness.

So, Sudden New Fiancee(tm) how we doing this? Blended customs? Two weddings? One in your peoples traditions, one in mine? Should we invite your family? Tell me more about yourself.

God, this solves just... SO MUCH for me? No having to make small talk. No "do they like me?" Or "am I reading the signs here right?" No failed dates! It's positively ideal! AND they announced why they were qualified, in a VERY impressive show of power and prestige, when they arrived! Good lineage AND accomplished!! Very nice.

Don't get why everyone's so upset.

Sure the "we leave at once" thing that usually follows would have to be discussed, but that's what you DO as spouses. Really guys, it's like you think I'm incapable of common sense here.

And you know who probably agrees with me? Damian Wayne.

Hell is other people, INDEED. You expect him to just... randomly go up to people and try Courting them? What do you MEAN it's "creepy" to compile portfolios on eligible individuals of worthy bloodlines? How ELSE is he supposed to know if they are worth attempting to talk too?!

There are BILLIONS of humans on this gods forsaken rock, Richard! Is he supposed to just GUESS? Gamble and hope for LUCK? This is a MARRIAGE not a "best friends club"!

Then? Danny showes up.

Gotham heard her baby talking. Heard her KING being harassed by clearly plotting Observants and power hungry ghosts MANY times his age. Connected some dots. Formed themselves a new OTP.

Danny says "Fuck It". Worst he can say is No. According to Gotham, he is neither Shy not the meek obedient sort. Is in fact, VERY stabby. So if he's not interested he'll no doubt be BRUTALLY clear about that.

So? Danny gets Fright Knight. Go get him a horse. Someone fetch Cujo some armor. He's been told the guy like weapons and animals.

TIME TO BE IMPRESSIVE.

He goes FULL Regalia. Armor of solid night sky. Cape of frost and stardust. Crown like crack in reality itself, through which the cosmos gleam and shift. He gets a horse from the far frozen. They're wooly and carnivorous. Gets THE most impressive sword he can find to wear.

It's gonna be a gift, since he doesn't need it.

He does the whole "rend the skies open" thing. Fan fair and knights. Every title he's ever been given, no matter how embarrassing he find them in reality. And announces his intentions. Declares that ONLY Damian Wayne, aka. Robin, is WORTHY to Marry Him. And (in the traditional Ghost proposal of "either accept or tell me to fuck off" /w violence) Demands Damian accept his offer of Marriage.

Right there.

IN THE WATCHTOWER.

In front of EVERYBODY. And yes, ESPECIALLY the Bats. Who are making glitching, vaguely threatening DEMONIC NOISES. Because? You... you THREATEN the BABY? Death. Ten thousand years DEATH.

People are :O ing and backing away from the visible heatwave of unadulterated FURY being put off by Batman. Danny is nano-second from every bone his ANCESTORS had being reduced to a fine paste.

Then? Damian consider him... considers the sword being thrust in his direction, still held aloft in a steady and armored hand... contemplates those titles for a second...

And goes: "Acceptable. Very well, but I have demands."

N..... Nani the FUCK? Says local Bat-Dad. No??? You are NOT GETTING MARRIED.

Try to stop him. He very obviously IS, according to Damian, the man brought him a kick ass sword and has a giant green dog. Is the king of an ENTIRE REALITY. Yes, he realizes he probably COULD do better... but frankly? This one's cute. But if it upset you so... extended engagement. There. Happy?

NO! Because the JLA Dark are LOSING THEIR SHIT. Damian is still UNDERAGE. We don't even know how OLD this being is! NO MARRIAGE.

Damian is unimpressed. A whole six months? That he's likely already LIVED thanks to various timeloops, temporal shenanigans, and reality warping bits of fuckery? You're reaching.

Just? Marriage Meet Cute.

@hdgnj @ailithnight @the-witchhunter @nerdpoe

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #marriage meet cute au #danny phantom #damian wayne #bruce may break his no killing rule #dick DEFINITELY about to break the no killing rule #tim is making out with Kon in a closet and misses most of this #good for him honestly

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novelistwriter · 1 month ago

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The Family of Halfa's

DP x DC Prompt (With other Fandoms, this prompt was inspired by "Wished Away Series")

Danny and Wes had been together for a while. Wes was, at first, not considered part of his friend group, but as time went on, Wes integrated himself as part of Team Phantom.

Now that Wes was a full ghost, and the Consort to Danny, as he is the Ghost King, Clockwork had decided that the Halfa and his Consort are the perfect option to raise the souls of those the Time Ghost takes pity on as new Halfa's with a new start, meaning these souls don't have the memories of their past lives, but powers and such related to their previous lives.

The oldest of the reborn souls they got was a boy named Adrian Agreste, but not any Adrian, the Cat Blanc Adrian, who was plucked from his timeline before it was erased and offered a second chance at life. His power is still destruction, but only when he is feeling intense negative emotions.

The second oldest, who came a few years after Adrian, was named Callum, a boy who died at the hands of the Sunfire Elves before help had arrived. He doesn't have any unique powers but is adept at the Arcane Arts than any (fully) living person.

A few months later, another soul was given to them. His name was Eli Shane, and he perished in the Eastern Caverns during the battle with the Emperor. Eli's powers allow him to access 5 elements, with him limited to one until he switches to another, Fire, Air, Earth, Water, and Energy. And because of Junjie, Eli's other Ghost Power allows him to learn any martial arts much quicker than any being.

After a year, another soul was given to them, one of a courageous young man named Link who stopped a Demon King but suffered too many injuries to be saved. His power is time related, but not too powerful. If he dodges an attack at the last second, he is able to move faster than anyone to attack his opponent for a short duration.

2 more years later, two souls were given to Danny and Wes, Keith and Lance, who perished at the hands of a mysterious foe while giving their team time to escape. Their powers are similar yet different at the same time. They both can summon spectral lions, but Keith's is red and has fire powers, while Lance's are blue and have water related powers.

Finally, 3 years later, Danny and Wes are given 5 souls of kids, kids who died participating in a war to stop a bad guy. Aang died fighting Ozai. Zuko and Katara died in the Agni kai against Azula. Toph and Sokka died when the Airship they were on crashed in the sea before Suki could arrive on time. Aang has air and animal related powers, Katara has water and ice powers, Zuko has fire and electricity powers, and Toph has earth and metal powers, Sokka doesn't have any unique powers, but is a natural leader and adept at learning how to use any type of weapon.

After the Quintuplets were reborn from Danny, the rest of the souls were as well, as Danny needed to host their cores to have them reborn as Halfa's, Danny and Wes thought that they needed to live in a dimension, and not the Keep Danny inherited, as Danny and the reborn Halfa's need to eat regular food as well ad needing Ectoplasm, and so the kids could interact with other living people and not just the Ghosts in the Infinite Realms. So they chose a random dimension with a lot of Heroes to live in, with Clockwork giving Wes a new body to be a Halfa himself.

And now the family made of all Halfa's is living in a place called Gotham, a Gothic City with enough ambient ectoplasm as Amity, but they had caught the attention of the Vigilantes of the City, as the entire family are Alternates to the people of the dimension.

Danny is an alternate younger Jason Todd, but not as Buff. Wes is an alternate younger Roy Harper, also not as buff. Adrian is an alternate Dinah Lance. Callum is an alternate and younger Hal Jordan. Eli is an alternate Lady Shiva. Link is an alternate and younger Barry Allen. Keith is an alternate Jon Kent. Lance is an alternate Damian Wayne. Aang is an alternate and younger Bruce Wayne. Katara and Sokka are alternates to Dick Grayson. Toph is an alternate and younger Cassandra Cain. Finally, Zuko is an alternate and younger Tim Drake.

#ghost king danny #danny phantom #dp x dc #dpxdc #dcu #the dragon prince #voltron #atla #avatar the last airbender #miraculous ladybug #legend of zelda #breath of the wild #dc x dp crossover #dp crossover #dp x dc prompt #tears of the kingdom #slugterra

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sepublic · 3 months ago

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So in Willow’s debut, it’s established that Abominations is considered as having better career opportunities than Plants. And in hindsight, it makes sense now; Abominations are valued by the coven regime in the way Blight Industries does them, as industrial Abomatons that can be controlled, as a means of military power and not magitech medicine as Alador shows in the epilogue. Belos buys them from Odalia, he practically assimilates Blight Industries.

This is because Abomatons don’t think for themselves, they’re servants that can replace covenscouts in areas that would challenge morality, and they lack the sapience to be targeted. They’re beings Belos can control without having to learn more of the magic he despises to do so; All of this is in contrast to how Darius or Amity use Abominations as a reflection of their own skill, the individual.

We see how the Abomatons aid the coven regime, and esp see through the Day of Unity; The Abomatons can be programmed, and do nothing without orders; They’re not going to become witches and demons in their own right, they’ll maintain those walls and then do so for the end of time.

They don’t need to be targeted for genocide as victims of the draining spell who would be incapacitated, so they can do their job while that happens. They keep witches corralled because the closer to the ritual, the faster the covenbound die. Of course, those who haven’t collapsed might try and stop the spell by removing the coven heads, which would place them within weakening proximity anyhow…

But that paranoia over covenbound who aren’t yet unconscious is justified; The Abomatons’ own creator rendered their role in the Day of Unity and the regime as a whole obsolete, because he had the strength away from the ritual to help the kids reach the skull, which allowed King to free the Collector and undo everything.

Plus, Belos is loathe to the isles; He depletes its natural resources, he wants all life to die and devastating the ecosystem is another way to do so. Hunter suggests growing Palistrom wood and he’s furious at the idea. So of course Plant magic is devalued, because it’s focused on life, on sustainability, with keeping others alive.

It’s the exact opposite of the cold industrialism that will make the Day of Unity happen and leave the land barren afterwards because the Abomatons themselves are barren in that sense, lacking magic and with little to contribute to the ecosystem, if anything. Plant magic is half of nature, the other being Beastkeeping, I wonder if that is also devalued by the regime?

Makes sense the Demon Hunters have to resort to menial city jobs instead of their traditional livelihood, forced to assimilate into an urban society if their environment has been depleted by colonialism. Adds to Darius and Eberwolf being rebels. And with Terra, it shows how much she’s willing to throw her fellow witches under the bus for utopia.

I remember speculating it since I was a Teenage Abomination; Abominations really is STEM, down to being used for military applications. Given TOH’s critique of the American education system, you can see how this metaphor extends when the work of creating a sustainable society and environment is secondary to destroying enemies and establishing supremacy and capital (As established with CEO Odalia’s motives).

Because it’s fun and easy to destroy, rather than do the banal yet meaningful work of actually building and healing and feeding people, thinking of how society can be sustainable. It’s easy to talk about how you can destroy witches zombies in an apocalypse, instead of how to keep a community of survivors alive; All that talk about how dudes bored with their lives dream about being an action hero at the expense of society’s collapse, without understanding what the world really needs is builders and not destroyers, and that they’d be nothing without the people who do this ‘boring’ work, is so very Belos.

#The Owl House #Worldbuilding #Foreshadowing #Abomatons

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too-much-tma-stuff · 10 months ago

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Finally Getting Help (prt. 10)

Mastterpost

A/N: Thank you all for the well wishes about my dog. Unfortunately he didn't make it and pass away Tuesday morning in the vet's office. I was able to get some writing done but I don't have the energy to edit. Let me know if you find any mistakes.

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Jason: hey, thanks for the gun and the tech, it's really cool.

Danny: new phone who dis 😝

Jason: I hope you haven't given too many people guns in the last couple days.

Danny: no I haven't, thanks for texting me Jason. Have you got a chance to try the gun?

Jason: not on anything moving, I've been doing some target practice to get a feel for it though. Looking forward to when I can test it on Vlad.

Danny: aww are you going to avenge my honor 🥺

Jason: if you want me too. I'll bring you his head if you want me too.

Danny: 🥰 you're so sweet. I wouldn't say no to seeing him suffer for what he's done but don't get yourself in any trouble okay? And if you do call me right away. I'll come rescue you 😘

Jason: hey I'm the one offering to protect you!

Danny: we can protect each other. And fight each other, can you come spar again soon?

Jason: I wouldn't call that sparring, more like brawling.

Danny: eh potato potato, do you want to come fight me again?

Jason: if demon brat won't kill me for it, sure. Can I take you out for dinner afterwards? I have some questions

Danny: It's a date! Just tell me when

Jason: Day after tomorrow? I have some work to take care of first.

Danny: Sounds great! And it is a date right? You don't mind that I'm going to have kids?

Jason: the kids aren't a deal breaker I promise but let's not jump the gun okay? We're going to be family through B so we don't want this to blow up in our faces. Let's hang out, take it slow, see how it goes. You need to be careful about who you let into your life now anyway, you can't just let anyone around you and the babies.

Danny: don't tell me what to do 😠 but you're right. I'm bad about rushing into things. I'm still looking forward to it.

Danny: By the way Jazz uploaded the power point she made about Liminals and Ghosts to the bat’s server thing. You have access to that right? You should read that before we meet and I can fill in the gaps.

Jason: Sounds good, I’ll have a look at it and I’m looking forward to it too. I'll be there at 5 so we can spar before dinner. Don't forget to warn B and your guard dog.

Danny: Damian is a good kid. I'll let them know.

Danny stared at his new phone Tim had given him with apprehension. The chat with Jason had gone very well, and Danny was glad he reached out but there were other people he really needed to reach out to and he was… frankly scared. Sam and Tucker were his best friends and had always been there for him but they both had tempers. Would they be mad that he hadn’t told them he was pregnant? Would they be upset he had left Amity and wasn’t planning on coming back?

He needed to reach out though, the longer he waited the harder it would be to talk to them, and things wouldn’t stay calm as they were now. Vlad would be back to cause trouble again and even though the JLD had control of the portal but he was sure his rogues would find their way through eventually. Vlad had his own portal anyway, and Danny wouldn’t put it past him to open it just to annoy Danny. Maybe try and weaken him a little so Vlad could swoop in and pick him off.

Today was quiet, he needed to take this chance. He sighed and got up off the edge of his bed where he was sitting and ducked out of his room. He didn’t want to do this alone, so he wasn’t surprised when he found himself in the library where Jazz was studying.

He sat down across from her and reached across, laying his hand, palm up on the table. Without looking up from her book she reached over and placed her hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. He smiled at her and took a deep breath before putting on his earbuds and sending a message in the group chat.

Danny: When you guys are ready can we call?

Jazz phone went off too and she checked it, smiled at Danny, and then silenced the chat and went back to her book. She didn’t need to be part of this call but at least she knew what he was doing.

Sam: Yes, let me just grab Tuck. He’s playing Doomed.

Danny took a deep breath and put down his phone while he waited for them to call and tried not to panic.

When the phone buzzed he jumped and reached for it, joining the call quickly.

“Hey guys,” He said, awkwardly, waving with the hand that wasn’t holding the phone.

“Hey yourself! What the heck happened Danny?! Basically the whole town joined in in chasing Vlad when we found out what he did but why did we have to find out on tv?! Why didn’t you tell us?!” Sam said, but at least she just seemed stressed, not actually angry.

“I’m sorry guys,” Danny said, wincing a little when he heard Tucker sniffling a little. “I hadn’t told anyone yet. I hadn’t even fully accepted it yet honestly.

“I still wasn’t ready to talk about it, bur Cass is really good at reading people's body language and I guess she clocked that I was carrying them by how I kept unconsciously touching my stomach. When she asked me about it it sorta broke through my denial and I broke down which started the ball rolling on… all this,” He said with a vague gesture.”

“All this is right!The justice league really brought the hammer down on Amity. They’re dismantling the GIW and really pissed at the government and basically all the adults in the town for letting this happen. And they arrested your parents!” Sam said sounding almost excited.

“Sam! That was really insensitive! They’re still his parents, what if he didn’t know!?” Tucker broke in furiously.

“No it’s alright I knew, Jazz told me. She’s here with me,” He said squeezing her hand though she wasn’t paying attention to the call.

“Okaaay so where is Here?” Tucker asked warily.

“Ya are you safe? We haven’t seen you since all this went down! Are you really with Bruce Wayne?” Sam asked sounding wary.

“Yes I am. He’s got a foster license and since his kids were the one that found out what was going on it just made sense that I’d stay here.”

“And he’s Not another Fruitloop?” Sam asked warily. “You need to be careful with these rich people you know? They’re basically all crazy!”

“Sam you’re rich,” Danny pointed out, amused.

“Ya, and? My point stands!”

“Fair enough,” Danny laughed. “But no, I did some snooping the first night I was here and it seems okay. And since he’s got close ties to the Justice League he was able to get the help we really needed, and he says he might be able to help me meet Martian Manhunter!”

“Don’t fanboy out too bad,” Tucker teased him.

“Oh ya? And what if I helped you meet Tim Drake? Would you not be just as bad,” Danny accused Tucker.

“Touche,” Tucker said. “Could you though?”

“I mean maybe? He’s my foster brother now and he seems cool. You two are my best friends, if I’m going to stay I’m sure you could come visit me and meet all of them.”

“Are you really going to stay there though? I mean once the GIW and everything is cleared out you could stay with either of us. I know my parents aren’t your biggest fans but I know they’d let you stay,” Sam said sounding worried.

“And I know my family doesn't have a ton of money but they adore you, we’d make it work,” Tucker added looking worried.

“No, guys I really appreciate the offer but… I don’t want to come back to Amity. The Justice League said they shut down the portal and I really need a fresh start I think. I think I’d rather stay here. Jazz too, she’s gonna study at Gotham U and intern at Arkham,” He said. She looked up at the mention of her name and gave him a small smile.

“I’m sorry, you guys are my best friends and I’ll miss you, but there are too many… memories in Amity you know?”

“Ya I get that,” Sam said, looking sad and distant.

“We can still call, and play Doomed together, and visit on breaks!” Tucker said, his chipper tone sounding a little forced. “We’re going to say friends!” He insisted and Danny smiled.

“Of course we will Tuck,” He promised. They might grow apart with the distance between them, but he hoped not, they really were his best friends.

“Ya, my parents will probably be thrilled about this development and want me to come over all the time. They love the Waynes,” Sam chuckled though her optimism also seemed a bit forced. Of course she was more of a pessimist, she probably thought they would drift apart, but knew Danny needed them right now.

“Soo what’s been going on in Amity since I left?” Danny asked, letting them ramble about the drama, the rumours, and the bullshit that was the bullies and everyone in the school sudden;y pretending they cared about Danny soooo much.

After they finished telling him about it there were a few beats of silence and Danny was just about to suggest they hang up when Sam spoke up again.

“So, what actually happened with Vlad? If you don’t want to talk about it that’s okay but…”

“No, it’s okay. It’s not what- what you’d think. It’s superhero bullshit really. When I wouldn’t be his son he decided to try and clone me, you met Dani with an I right? She was one of the clones. But he didn’t know I was trans, and my DNA got all fucked up in the portal so none of the clones were stable. I have no idea how many he tried to make that died. But when I found out it was because he had lied to Dani and told her he needed me to stabilize her clone brothers. It was a batch of ten.

“But he lied, he didn’t actually care about stabilizing them, he was going to let them all die. I was only able to save the two that were most stable and only by taking their cores into myself. So I’m not normal pregnant, I’m ghost pregnant.

What is my life huh?” He finished, chuckling awkwardly.

“Oh fuck,” Sam said her shoulders slumping a little even as her expression went through a range of emotions. “That’s better in a way but still a whole different type of fucked up! I hope they catch him soon.”

“I hope so too but I don’t think they will,” Danny said with a shrug. “Not before he tries something else. I’m not lucky enough to be able to just move past this,” He said with a bitter little laugh.

“Well, we can still hope. And even if he does cause trouble you have more allies now! You’ve been able to handle everything else he’s thrown at you basically on your own, with the Justice League behind you I know there’s nothing you can’t handle. I mean, Vlad is kind of pathetic anyway,” Tucker encouraged making Danny smile.

“Ya, you’re right, I’m sure it’ll be fine. Thanks guys,” he said fondly.

“Of course dude! We’re here for you!” Tucker said.

“It’s really good to hear from you too. Don’t be a stranger okay?” Sam said, a bit worried.

“Of course not, I’ll keep you posted I promise.” Danny assured before they said their goodbyes and he hung up.

He put down his phone and leaned back with a sigh, closing his eyes for a moment. Next to him Jazz chuckled and there was a soft snap as she closed her book.

“You did well little brother,” She told him, getting up from her seat she moved behind him and rested her hands on his shoulders.

“How do you know? You weren’t listening.”

“No, but you reached out to your friends and had an honest conversation which isn’t easy. You did well,” She reiterated, squeezing his shoulders.

“Well thanks Jazz. I hope that they’re right that we won’t lose touch, and I’ll be able to handle whatever Vlad does,” He grumbled.

“I’m sure we will,” Jazz promised. “And either way there’s no point in worrying about it now. Has Jason texted you yet?” She asked, giving Danny the excuse he needed to change the subject and launch into his more petty worries about the upcoming date as she sat back down to listen.

#danny phantom #dc x dp #dead on main #jason todd #danny fenton #jazz fenton #damian wayne #sam manson #tucker foley #trans!danny #Danny is pregnant #finally getting help au #bad parents jack and maddie #Vlad is a creep

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justwinginglife · 5 months ago

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what abt a soshiro and a babyshiro req ❓babyshiro is almost the carbon copy of soshiro but the kid always has that serious/brooding resting face that he always contrasts soshiro's own smiley face with,,,, n then sometimes babyshiro would wander off and watch the officers train but the officers always like shiver when they sense babyshiro's ominous aura observing them (the kid just has a permanent intimidating pout)

The Unstoppable Trio

When you first saw a picture of Soshiro as a kid, you were overwhelmed by just how adorable he was and you vowed to him that when you had his baby, they would look exactly like him. He just laughed and shook his head at you, saying you couldn't control what they looked like, and what if he wanted them to look more like you instead? But you stood firm in your statement- you wanted, no, you needed a little baby Soshiro running around your house, his little bowlcut flopping around as he played, his purple eyes peeking out from underneath his tired lids.

And when you finally did have your first kid and he was the exact carbon copy of your husband, Soshiro then assumed you had some sort of otherworldly power to manifest your desires with such accuracy. You let him continue to think you were a god, it made things easier. It helped that your predictions were almost always correct as well. Soshiro had started taking your side on almost everything, after seeing firsthand how the universe just seemed to bend to your will, and when people disagreed with you, he’d quickly shut them down, whispering that you’d curse their family for generations if they didn’t shut up. He made you laugh.

And your kid was just like him, always seeking out ways to make you laugh, to make you smile. If he said something silly and you giggled, he’d repeat it over and over to elicit the same reaction. If he did something cute and you fawned over him, he’d continue doing it, continue soaking up your adoration.

Soshiro was both pouty and proud about it. He wanted your attention too, but he was impressed that someone so young had already figured out the secret to keeping you happy. He felt like if he ever passed too soon, his son would take good care of his mom. So he let him have your attention, he let him learn how best to love you.

In fact, you and your husband were the only people your son actively showered with love. He was worse at showing it to anyone else. He had such a severe case of resting bitch face around everybody else that rumors started going around that you, with your supernatural powers, had birthed a demon of some sort. Because if anyone were to have given him these genetics, it wouldn’t have been smiley Soshiro, it would’ve been you. You were downright intimidating sometimes, and it seemed your child had already perfected that same art of intimidation at such a young age.

Now, every time you looked at your baby boy, he was the picture perfect angel, grinning just like his daddy did. But everyday your husband would bring you a new story about what your “perfect baby boy” did to scare the shit out of someone today, and it cracked Soshiro up to no end, he’d say “Our kiddo is a real comedian.”

Apparently Iharu had gotten called to the Captain’s office while he was mid bathroom break and he had zipped up his pants as quickly as he could, almost tripping over his own feet trying to exit the bathroom and your baby had blocked the door. Iharu scratched his head, perspiring a little at the sight of what looked like a scowl, before finally trying to appease the kid.

“Um. Hey buddy. Hey little man. Mind moving out of the way for me?”

He didn’t budge. He simply pointed to the sink. “Wash.” He demanded.

Iharu lifted an eyebrow and turned to peer at the sink. Wash? He looked back at the kid, a puzzled look on his face. Did your kid expect him to help him wash his hands? He didn’t have time for this, the Captain needed him.

“Uh, sorry friend, maybe your dad can help you. Is he around?”

And then came the infamous eye roll that he had seen you do a million times whenever Soshiro teased you. Iharu thought your kid did the eye roll better than you, he was infinitely more terrified now.

“You. No. Wash. You. Wash. Now.”

Iharu almost peed his pants again as he realized what the kid was saying. He forgot to wash his hands. The kid was blockading the door all because he forgot to clean up after himself. Iharu shivered as he washed his hands, imagining the consequences if he’d done something worse than forgetting to wash his hands. Your kid was pretty damn frightening.

And it turned out that Soshiro was just around the corner, clutching his sides, chuckling to himself. When he saw Iharu stumble out of the restroom looking like he’d seen a ghost, Soshiro simply said, “Bet you won’t forget to do that again,” before wiping tears from his eyes and then patting his kid on the head to reward him for good behavior.

Even Kaguragi, big and strong as he was, fell victim to the mini-you. Your son had wandered into the training room where Kaguragi was lifting weights and for a minute, he just watched him. It was enough to get Kaguragi sweating, but if anyone asked, he could blame it on the workout. Then your kid strolled over to him and pointed to the weights, saying “More.”

So Kaguragi added another weight to his set, though unsure why he was listening to a child. He did a couple reps before your kid, again, repeated “More.” He wanted to tell your kid that he was being ridiculous, that he was already lifting way more than he usually did, but one look at his face froze him in place. He nodded his head compliantly. “More it is, little guy.” And he kept adding more and more, at your kid’s instruction, until he was about to collapse. Soshiro laughed so hard he had to run to the bathroom, where he ran into Iharu again, gave him shit about washing his hands again, and then relieved himself.

The women were not immune to your son’s cold stare either, as proven by Shinomiya’s standoff with him. She had heard the rumors and she had scoffed at them, saying it was ridiculous for anyone to be afraid of a child and that they should be sorry to call themselves Defense Force officers. She had even marched around the base, looking for the child, so she could prove her grit. She found Soshiro holding his hand as they went for a walk and she knelt down to take a look at the little guy.

“Aww, hi cutie! Are you taking a walk with your daddy? Everyone says you’re so scary, but you’re just a little sweetie pie, aren’t you?”

His icy gaze pierced her soul as he spoke, “Where’s your daddy? No daddy?”

Shinomiya ran away crying.

You did apologize to Shinomiya for the incident, setting down a large bouquet of her favorite flowers on her nightstand before leaving her to sulk in bed the rest of the day. And you were actually sorry for her, but unfortunately, you and Soshiro were also slightly amused. It was an entertaining notion that your son could take down even the great Shinomiya, and especially after she talked such a big game.

“What a tough guy you are, baby boy.” You kissed him on the head and he smiled the most darling smile. You returned home with him on your hip and Soshiro at your side.

So now you were the unstoppable trio. And everyone knew it.

#kaiju no. 8 #soshiro hoshina #anime #hoshina #soshiro hoshina x reader #oneshot #hoshina x reader #hoshina soshiro x reader #anime fanfic #han's library

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fireheartwraith · 1 year ago

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There are a lot of different traditions during Carnaval, but the allegoric cars players have been building are known to be part of the Parade of the Samba Schools, so I thought I'd explain how it works!

For starters, the Parade is a competition. Each team is called a samba school and they have their own flag and history. People can be really hard or die for their teams! Some are connected to soccer teams, like Gaviões da Fiel (the school) is connected to Corinthians. The two main parades (of this type of carnaval) happen in São Paulo and Rio de Janeiro.

Each school has one hour to completely walk across the sambódromo, and in that hour they have to tell a story or message. That is one of the things they are judged on! The criteria are the drums, the samba-enredo (enredo literally means plot, but this is a genre of samba), the evolution (how the story develops), the harmony (is everyone singing together? Do the people in the parade know the lyrics?), the plot itself, the allegoric cars and accessories, the costumes, the opening act, and the mestre-sala and porta-bandeira.

The parade is divided into sections called alas, and each one of them functions as a chapter in the story being told and have their own separate choreography. The first one is the Comissão de Frente (the opening act). They set the tone for the rest of the team and the public, so it’s common to see celebrities here to get the audience hyped.

Another crucial part is the drums. They are setting the beat that everyone is dancing to, so they shouldn’t make any mistakes. To both hype them and keep the pacing is the Rainha da Bateria (the Queen of the Drums). She’s a woman dancing samba in very minimal clothing but very heavy accessories. This is a very prestigious spot, the dream of any passista (this is what the samba dancers are called). Since they are the face of the parade, celebrities are sometimes given the position, and not all of them deserve it.

There are other passistas atop the allegoric cars, but they are not the only type of dancers. There’s the Ala das Baianas (ala of the baiana women): older (usually black but not necessarily) women dancing in traditional clothing. Honestly one of my favorite parts of the parades.

But my favorite part is the mestre-sala and porta-bandeira. There are several throughout the parade, but only the first one is graded. They are a couple: the man is the mestre-sala dancing around the porta-bandeira (literally 'flag carrier'), who dances with the school flag, and wears a big skirt, usually in the school colors. I wanted to be one when I was a kid, they dance doing twirls and it just looked like so much fun.

There are other unnamed alas, of course, and the allegoric cars.

The samba schools are very tied to black history and black communities, so their stories are usually very powerful. Like the year they represented a former president as a blood sucking vampire with the presidential sash, or this year, where they showed a statue of a known slaver graffited and on fire. Seriously, some of these cars are insane, and most of them have moving parts while also being light enough to be pushed or motored across the sambódromo, but sturdy enough to support all the dancers on top of it. A true feat of engineering! See the size of the woman near the statue's feet compared to the whole thing?

Most people celebrate carnaval by going to street parties called "bloco de carnaval" (basically a mini parade with live music), but these huge parade still get a big audience, despite streaming so late at night.

Here's this year's presentation from Vai-Vai if you're curious to see everything in motion! Originally, I had put a link to Estácio de Sá's presentation, but some politicians want to apply sanctions to Vai-Vai because it represented cops as demons. A few days later, a white man attempted to kill a black man, and the black man was arrested despite witnesses telling the cops what really happened. When news broke out, they kept him in prison on claims of "resisting arrest." So, why is it wrong to say cops are devils?

Anyways, the Vai-Vai presentation is about celebrating blackness and black creativity and resilience. Happy Carnaval! The winners this year were Mocidade Alegre in São Paulo and Unidos da Viradouro in Rio de Janeiro. You can look up their presentations if you want to.

youtube

#qsmp #qsmp brasil #brasil #brazil #brazilian #brazilian culture #carnaval #brazilian carnival #Youtube #acab

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evasive-anon · 1 year ago

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Jason was having a pretty OK time with the league of assassins, sure getting dunked in a lazarus pit sucked and Bruce turned out to be a scumbag who didn't care about him, but at least he isn't dead. He even liked most of the new skills he was learning there so on the whole being with the league seemed like a pretty good deal to him until Talia woke him up in the middle of the night and left him alone with two child assassins.

Or, a demon twins AU where when Talia realizes her father intends to have her boys fight to the death takes action first by deciding to take all her kids and leave the league. Talia either dies or is separated from them in the initial escape and now Jason just has a bag of supplies and a letter from Talia explaining the plan to get to Gotham. Jason has to get himself and two 7 year olds out of the Himalayas, across a desert, and over 12k miles to Gotham. Only now the league members hunting them down want them dead or worse and Jason isn't too confident that B will accept them given their kill counts.

Featuring:

Good Mom Talia. she loves her kids. Did she teach them to kill? Sure, but that's an important life skill.

Single Teen Mom Jason. He's the oldest and in charge but he also will not answer any questions about The Plan™ given he isn't committed to Talia's but also doesn't have a set alternative. Oscillates between looking forward to just dumping his new little brothers with Bruce so they'll be his problem and thinking of just moving somewhere random in the US and keeping them based entirely on how cute vs annoying they are at that time. Didn't realize how much he relied on Talia to help him with things until she is gone. He's really trying his best but he wasn't all that emotionally stable before this so hang in there.

Angry Smol Dami. He's still drinking the LoS punch and really dislikes that he is now considered a traitor. Can't stand that Jason won't answer any of his very relevant questions. Is actually very scared but will not show it. Misses his mom. Didn't even know he had siblings until his mom yoinked him out of bed that night and brought him to Jason and Danny and started all this. Physically the stronger twin. Thinks Danny is dragging them down in fights and also may blame him a bit because clearly his mother only did all this to spare him.

Danny, reincarnated with limited access to his memories and powers. Has been trying to keep his powers a secret. Talia knew about them but never told anyone but she may have hinted at it in her letter to Jason. Not the strongest physically but very good at stealth and social interactions. Didn't know he had and older brother or twin before Jason woke him up at Talia's instruction that night. Thinks Damian is mean and has faith Jason knows what he's doing even if that is very much untrue.

#escape the LoS demon twins prompt #dropping extras at the end in the tags for fun #demon twins au #dpxdc prompt #fanfic prompt #dpxdc #dp x dc #dcxdp #dc x dp #original post #long post #non-canon compliant #danny phantom crossover #batman crossover #Athanasia and Mara could be added to the party as well for extra fun #but I don't know how familiar the phandom side is with those characters so I didn't include them in this #also out of some mercy for this Jason tbh cause even 2 kids would already be a pain for a teenager #if Mara is there then Damian would probably vibe with her the most in spite of their rivalry cause she's probably distrust Jay too #and she would probably also resent becoming a traitor so they'd relate to each other #If Athanasia is in the crew then I think she'd be clocked as the weakest link and Damian would probably disapprove of her instead of Danny #Danny could also be full human in this AU #powerset if reincarnated is whatever you want but I was thinking invisibility for brief periods and partial intagability #like he can disappear for a couple seconds or phase a weapon through him in a pinch #but he can't do it a lot or maybe can only do it sometimes #i don't imagine Jason has pit rage in this just trauma #I imagine Jason being 16/17yo

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inhuman-obey-me · 4 months ago

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Celestials and Saltiness: Lessons 48/49

HAHAHAHA of course while we had irl stuff going on and couldn't go through the lessons for a couple weeks, was when the Big Stuff drops. But we have caught up, and hoo boy, there is plenty to discuss. So let's discuss! Strap in, it's a long one.

(MAJOR spoilers for NB lesson 48/49 below the cut)

The Situation

Let's start with what's actually happening. Hey, remember when the devs decided Simeon is a human now as punishment over the whole stealing the Ring of Light situation? SURPRISE, they've decided he's becoming a demon after all! You know, like all of us fucking expected of what happens to angels when they are punished and fall? Yeah, that.

As it turns out, despite the whole "I'm human now" gradual reveal across two whole fucking seasons, they've now decided this has been going on since basically all the way back to his human world cafe days in OG Season 3 to say he was starting to become a demon even back then, or at least so Solomon theorizes. So...basically the entire length of his "human" punishment thus far. Cool, cool, we're sure that's totally not a retcon due to the devs realizing they wrote themselves into a corner. Definitely had a plan all along, that's why they bought themselves 2 seasons of Nightbringer time travel shenanigans of time before getting into this. Totally.

Anyway, setting aside the salt (for now), we are told that this demonic aura has been starting to appear whenever he feels deep emotions, somewhat similar to how power manifests for the brothers. Solomon tells us that it's because Simeon has a unique ability to access his latent power - which is an interesting little tidbit to note, as it implies that they took away his angel powers but he has his own inherent powers which he was just never able to access until now. We have long held the headcanon that God artificially limits angels' power, so it's very interesting to us to see that it may be suggesting something similar here.

On a related minor worldbuilding note, this does confirm the detail that celestial power has a distinctly opposite feeling than demonic power, meaning that their magic and powers are not neutral. And we also get an in-game reminder that demons do not like angels, so in this situation, it would be expected that an average demon might think an angel deserves to fall and want to torture/kill them if given the chance.

By the way, all of this is going on during the Science Fair Chemistry competition specifically, which is...an interesting parallel to say the least. Chemistry is the science concerned with matter -- including its composition, structure, and how it changes down to the molecular level. We've always been of the opinion that Simeon just turning into a human was odd as it's been established that demons and angels have different physiology in comparison to humans (like how Demonus can get both demons and angels drunk, but doesn't affect humans). Simeon turning into a demon with the absence of his angel powers makes sense.

Celestial Realm Reactions

Now, the consequences.

First, let's look at the political implications. Diavolo, Barbatos, and Lucifer know that this does not bode well for relations between the Realms. After all, what will the Celestial Realm think, having one of their own turning into a demon after they sent them to the Devildom for the exchange program? Especially considering everything that happened with Lucifer and the Great Celestial War, it would be very easy to point a finger at Diavolo and the Devildom for being a corrupting influence.

Lucifer also mentions that Simeon is currently not allowed through the gates into the Celestial Realm without first obtaining forgiveness. However, that status as a human is an ongoing punishment (think of a kid being grounded by parents), not a one-and-done thing, opening up an implication that this transformation is not necessarily intended to be permanent. That's also totally not a retcon, we're sure! If he turns into a demon, that challenges the supposed punishment and calls into question which realm actually has a claim to him -- in a situation where both answers would have precarious implications for Diavolo's peace plan.

So, that's the Celestial Realm as a whole, on a political level. But let's take a look at the individual angels we know too, shall we?

First, there's the big question mark of Michael. We know that he's the one who called Simeon back to the Celestial Realm about the Ring of Light, and we also know that he is in fact the one Simeon stole it from. However, Lucifer assumes Michael is planning to bring Simeon back to the Celestial Realm when he gets the chance, so it seems like he was not actually the one to decide on this punishment and may actually be working to end it. And interestingly, this would not be the first time Michael has acted on his own to seemingly try to cancel out a punishment from God -- as a reminder, he also went off to the Devildom disguised himself as Raphael to try to invite the brothers back at the end of NB Season 1!

Considering Lucifer's insistence that Father would never forgive him, plus his Cocytus punishment at the end of NB Season 2, it does seem like Michael probably didn't have permission from God to go inviting them back. If he's also looking to reverse Simeon's punishment, that would show a surprising rebelliousness from the top angel of the Celestial Realm! So it will be interesting to see how Michael's role in this whole situation unfolds.

Then, we have our sweet baby angel Luke -- who ends up crying himself to the point of passing out when he finds out. He's grown a lot since he first arrived to the Devildom, no longer thinking that all demons are inherently evil monsters -- but he's still very proud to be an angel. He loves Simeon dearly, as the one who has acted as a parental figure of sorts for him this entire time. Luke is adamant about protecting and helping Simeon in any way he can, even if he's not sure what can really be done.

However, this sets up quite the conflict for the poor boy. He was too young to know Lucifer and the other brothers at the time of the Great Celestial War, so this is his first time reckoning with an angel he's known personally becoming a demon. And on top of that, this began with the Celestial Realm's decision to punish Simeon for taking the Ring of Light -- saving MC and Lucifer, and stabilizing MC's "ring" to essentially save all of the Three Realms.

In other words, Simeon is becoming a demon now for saving everyone. So it begs the question -- will Luke, who has unquestioningly believed in the Celestial Realm until now, start seeing his home in a different light after all of this?

Then there's the next-youngest angel, and the newest in the cast -- Raphael. We didn't see too much of him, but we get enough that it's clear he's not taking this news well either. It's assumed he was suddenly called to the Celestial Realm because of this development, though we don't know exactly what they say to him about it, and when he returns, he's in a daze. We see Mephistopheles being the one to actually first run into him and try to talk to him, but he is mainly met with a very out-of-it angel, and he then takes him out to have his family's special Demonus because it's clear Raphael is distressed. In another scene, we see Thirteen run into a now spaced-out Mephisto and he asks her a "hypothetical" -- what happens when an angel reaches their limit? Also, Solmare, are y'all setting up RaphaelxMephisto as a ship?

And then, of course, we have the angel of the hour -- or rather, ex-angel. And Simeon's reaction to this change is...not so bad, actually. It's one of understandable confusion but also a kind of near acceptance. We've always been convinced that the reason Simeon was demoted after the Celestial War was because he stayed neutral and refused to fight. And how Simeon discusses the past in Lesson 49 suggests similarly -- he has always had regrets over not joining Lucifer, because he couldn't. Now that it seems he is possibly turning into a demon, he can't help but wonder how things could have been different if he had.

He mentions how he feels less unsure about this than turning into a human, as he always did want to be closer to the brothers, and didn't like that he was different from them. In that sense, turning into a demon doesn't seem so bad to him -- though he also doesn't have control over these powers yet, so he needs to be careful. And, if you choose the "are you a bad boy at heart" option, he mentions that maybe his loyalty to the Celestial Realm is lacking -- pretty understandable, after all he's seen from them and all they've put him through...!

And Then There's the Shady Sorcerer...

Now, that's all complicated enough for that delicate, delicate balance between the Celestial Realm and the Devildom, but let's not forget there's one more realm in the "Three" Realms, with one very conspicuously powerful representative here in our cast.

And so, where is Solomon in all of this? Well, we know he placed a protection charm on Simeon to protect him when it was thought that he was a "defenseless" human, so that even if a lesser demon messed with him, they'd be in for a world of pain. He was also, it seems, the first one to notice Simeon starting to transform into a demon, but kept that information to himself until confronted about it. Lucifer opens up to us that he can't help but wonder if there's some kind of connection between the sorcerer's activities back in the human realm and Simeon's predicament, feeling some doubts even if it seems everyone relies on Solomon and trusts him. And after all, Lucifer would be a demon with a good reason to distrust Solomon, since the sorcerer has long been after a pact with him, even on top of all the many powerful pacts he already holds with others.

Lucifer brings up some of his concerns to Solomon by asking him why he's been going back and forth to the human world so much -- to which Solomon answers that's making some preparations for unlikely scenarios. He insists it's not important, but we wonder...

Back in OG Season 2, Solomon knew about MC's "ring" which was putting the Three Realms at risk, and he secretly swiped the Night Dagger from the Reaper's Cave as a potential solution. His top priority, as we've seen, has always been protecting humanity from the battling influences of the other two realms. We know that's also part of his mysterious deal with Nightbringer.

So what possible plans and preparations could Solomon be making, and for what unlikely scenarios? Another war? Another imbalance of power? We'll see what awaits with this whole new situation...

#hey if any of you devs are fans reading our shit right now you should just hire us already :)#obey me nightbringer #obey me nb #omnb #obey me nightbringer spoilers #obey me #obey me!#obey me swd #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me simeon #obey me luke #obey me raphael #obey me michael #obey me solomon #obey me analysis #om! simeon

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