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berrybore · 3 days ago

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I 100% agree that canon Sally made choices against Percy’s best interest at times but I don’t necessarily think Gabe was one of them.

Let me explain, we do know that Sally knew about Poseidon and camp, there’s a very really possibility that she also knew about the prophecy to an extent. As in, she must have known her son would be in a crazy amount of danger just for being born. We know from the text that Poseidon waited until the last moment he could before claiming Percy, until his powers essentially revealed to the whole camp who he was. That’s how dangerous it was for him to be found out.

I really don’t think Percy should have been raised at camp, that fact that he had a well-meaning, loving mother is one of the biggest things that set him apart from Luke.

I do think she should have sent him to camp earlier than she did but not years earlier like maybe you were suggesting. I also agree that it was an inherently selfish decision to keep him close. She certainly didn’t do him any favors by sending him away to boarding school after boarding school where he was always the new kid, always harassed, and even physically punished by the teachers in one of them (staff of Hermes).

She was in an impossible situation and she made choices purely out of survival not stability or safety cause they had neither. But this way he wouldn’t be outright killed. But Percy is a child and he needs both, so he grows up with low self esteem, neglected, abused emotionally and physically, and without a single friend in the world with how often he changes schools. He can’t talk to his mother either because she’s a little in denial and when Percy asks hard questions she gets emotional, and he feels guilty when he upsets his mom so he stops asking altogether.

(I do believe that she went into the relationship with Gabe with her eyes open and maybe that made it harder for her to admit to herself that she was stuck, that the man she was sure she could face down near damn swallowed her whole, because she chose this, of course in her mind she was still in control but I digress. )

I think as soon as Grover and Chiron were in the picture she should have told him. Instead she told Grover not to do anything. There was a fury at the school, he was found out and attacked, why was he still there for an entire semester after the incident?

We know they didn’t tell her about the fury because we know she didn’t know. Chiron mishandled that big time because it was at that point that it became evident that whatever scent Gabe was hiding wasn’t working. Him following her wishes to the point of keeping Percy at school after an attack from a kindly one without even informing his mother of what happened is actually crazy. Hades found him and sent him a fury to his school. Right under chirons nose. Percy was serving detention with her late into the night sometimes. They should have called Sally and taken Percy to camp together. Instead he was gaslit by everyone to the point of questioning his sanity. Ran away form Grover when they met the fates and Grover still refused to say a word. Didn’t say anything to his mom because why would he at this point, who would even believe him?. Not to mention the very traumatic introduction to the demigod life by watching his mother die right in front of him.

I just think about all the individual choices that Sally, Grover, and Chiron made that led to that night on half blood hill and I think how much it didn’t need to happen.

All three of them failed him.

Sally Jackson choice safety over stability in terms of how she'd take care of her child. Both her and Percy faced years abuse by the hands of one man. Does this make her a good mother who was in over her head or an unprepared one making an impulsive decision?

You found the one hot take even I haven’t dared say aloud yet, because I think it may just be my most unpopular opinion in this fandom. One thing everyone in this fandom seems to agree on is the “universal truth” that Sally Jackson is the best mother in the history of fictional mothers. So, here’s my hot take:

Sally Jackson is not that perfect mother the fandom pretends she is.

Sally during the series? Presented as a loving and good mother. But to get to that point? Pre-series Sally is not written as a good mom; she’s written as a plot-device with the things the author needs to happen in mind and not the motivation of a good mother who prioritizes her child’s happiness and safety in mind.

And I’ll back that claim up with three ways in which Sally has failed Percy as a mother. Not just once, but repeatedly, for years.

But before we get into that, I’d like to switch what you said first. Sally Jackson chose stability over safety. Sally chose the stability of keeping her child at her side over said child’s safety. She made an inherently selfish decision that was not with her child’s best interest and overall safety in mind.

Now, the first - and most obvious one - is Smelly Gabe.

And before I can elaborate on that, I need to clarify one very important thing here, before anyone goes “don’t blame the victim!” on me: Sally Jackson is not a victim; she’s a fictional character. Fictional characters can be written as victims, but they are not autonomous people who make their own choices; their choices are very deliberately made by their author for them. And I want to look at the choices that went into writing her this way, writing her story this way.

Real abuse victims get stuck in abusive relationships for a variety of reasons and they don’t get out of them for equally various reasons. Most of the time, it’s something like “he was so sweet and kind at first, but by the time he showed his real face, it was too late” (and, as a note to that; Percy describes Gabe as having been nice to them for a total of thirty seconds before showing his real face. Now while that is, of course, and exaggeration, it still goes to say that Gabe was pretty much upfront about what kind of person he was).

I’ve never heard one start with “he was the most disgusting, grossest man I could possibly find”. Sally Jackson chose this man. Not just in the way one picks a partner. She went out there and chose the stinkiest, grossest man.

It was a deliberate choice on Riordan’s part to have Sally choose an abusive relationship over sending her son away for his own safety. And this decision did not keep Percy safe; Percy Jackson was abused in his own home, by a horribly stinking man, for six years of his life. That’s not keeping your child safe.

The choice was not made to keep Percy safe; the choice was made to keep Percy with Sally. It was inherently selfishly motivated; she didn’t want to send him away, she wanted to keep him with her.

Sally loves Percy, she loves him dearly and fiercely, I’m not arguing that. But that love led to her not wanting to let go of him. And sometimes, parenting means making tough choices, sometimes loving someone means you have to make a tough decision.

In this case, the “tough decision” is presented as Sally bravely putting up with six years of abuse at Gabe’s hand. That’s the narrative chosen by the author.

But the actual “tough decision” would have been to send Percy to Camp Half-Blood, where he would have been safe. That’s the tough choice a mother would have had to make to keep her child safe.

That’s the tough choice the parents of most of the year-rounders have made. Mister Beauregard sent his daughter all the way from Paris to New York to give her this safety. The distance alone guaranteeing he wouldn’t see her for years potentially - because flying between New York and Paris is not necessarily easily affordable for everyone. Sally’s option was to send Percy to a camp that’s literally one and a half hours away. She could have still seen him, he could have easily visited her.

But her solution was to mask Percy’s scent by marrying a stinking, gross, abusive man.

Let me just stretch once more: Sally’s choice did not keep Percy safe. Sally’s choice made their home unsafe. It brought the danger and pain into their home. It may have moderately protected Percy from monsters - until The Lightning Thief kicked in - but it did not keep Percy actually safe, because it put him into a different kind of danger and through a different kind of pain.

For six years. And, this is where the “not a real person but a fictional character” thing comes up again, because this isn’t a woman where one choice leads to a date with a man which leads to a relationship which leads to abuse that she doesn’t know how to get out of anymore. She is a fictional character whose journey was set out to end with her being in an abusive relationship.

And we also don’t know why she didn’t get out of it. She’s not a real person, we don’t know if she was so scared of Gabe that she didn’t know how to leave, if her lack of a support system is what led to her not leaving him, or if it was the motivation of not giving up Percy. The real, actual reason is that Riordan wanted to keep her in there and keep Percy out of the loop until he was twelve and The Lightning Thief could happen. Because she was able of getting rid of him as soon as the truth unravelled and Percy met camp.

And I’d like to use the way she did that to drive back home just how bad Gabe was, just how bad the situation Sally and Percy were in for six years, really was.

She murders him. She flat-out murders him. Both, her and Percy, together. This twelve-year old child who we meet and get to know as kind and not... not a murder-child, is ready to kill a man. That’s how badly Gabe abused them; both of these kind people chose murder to get rid of him.

And it’s just something I’ve never gotten over. Riordan really made the decision that his protagonist’s mom would rather get them both into an abusive home than give Percy up to camp. That was his decision; there could have been other ways. One thing that would have made this seem less like a deliberate choice would have, for example, been Sally not knowing about camp.

If she was a desperate mother, who saw no other options? That’d have made the situation different too. But we know Sally knew about camp. She knew there was a place she could send her son where he would be safe from the monsters, but she decided against that, she decided that she wanted to keep him close, at any costs - and the cost was six years of abuse.

I do not think that this decision should be framed as a heroic sacrifice, because the fact that she knew of an actually safe solution and decided against it was inherently selfish. She did not put up with six years of abuse for selfless reasons because there was “no other way”; there was, she knew that, but the author didn’t want her to take that.

Sometimes, the sacrifice is letting go of your child. And, as mentioned before, she wouldn’t have let go of him for good - camp is in the same bloody city as she is living. Literally one and a half hours away from her.

Now on to the other two ways in which I think Sally Jackson failed Percy.

For one, the lies about his father. Now, real people who are left by their partner with a baby, they can pick whatever to tell their kids whenever. But, again, this is a fictional character and the author makes the decision for her. And this, again, was a decision made solely based on the end result; Riordan needed Percy to not be in the know by the time The Lightning Thief came around, even though from a character-perspective, telling Percy the truth earlier would have been the logical and right decision.

If your kid is a demigod who is attracting real actual monsters with his scent alone? Percy started really attracting monsters when he was six years old and for the next six years, Sally didn’t disclose the truth to him; not about monsters, not about his father, not about the fact that Percy may have powers.

Percy attracted so many monsters that it led to Sally getting married to Gabe. That’s how badly he attracted monsters. Which also implies that Percy must have seen monsters. We get to see in The Lightning Thief just how much Percy thinks he’s going crazy with the things he sees. And that’s been going on for six years too - six years and in those, his scent only got stronger.

This, again, isn’t just one decision she made. This is a decision she made every single day over and over again. The decision not to tell Percy about his father, the powers, the simple reassurance that he’s not going insane, that monsters are real. This was Percy’s reality and it would obviously only become more and more of an issue the older Percy got, but every single day, she chose not to tell him, to let him believe not just a lie but also steadily that he was going crazy.

And it’d have gone a long way if he had just known. Even with Gabe in their life, even if she hadn’t made the choice to send him to camp at age six, it’d have helped him so much to know the truth and be prepared for this life.

Because this wasn’t just an issue of “the guy left me, I don’t want to talk about it with my kid”, this was inherently about, once more, Percy’s safety. Knowing what to watch out for, knowing the thing you should watch out for is actually real, are huge factors in Percy’s safety. Having him as well-prepared as possible.

She knew his father was Poseidon. It’s not even that she had sex with some dude, not knowing who he was. She knew he was Poseidon. She knew what Percy’s parentage was, she must have observed the slow development of Percy’s powers over the years.

But again, she chose to leave him in the dark about it. He could have been well-prepared by age twelve. Read up everything on Poseidon, experimented with potential powers he may have, understanding why the fishes in the aquarium are talking to him and that he is not actually hearing voices, learning.

But that’s not useful for the author; Riordan wants an unprepared Percy who can be used to introduce this world to the reader.

The choice to not tell Percy the truth about his father and about being a demigod was made deliberately and, again, not in Percy’s best interest. And in this case, there really is no other interpretation left aside from “the author needs it to happen this way” - with Gabe, there is the legitimate argument that she may have been at one point just an abused woman stuck in a relationship with no out because we don’t know enough to know what her motivation and situation were exactly - but there is... no benefit at all in lying to Percy about this, no reason for it.

The moment he first started being in actual life-threatening danger because monsters came after him, it became a pressing matter to tell him what monsters are, that they are real and why they are after him and to prepare him for it.

Which brings me to the third instance.

She never prepared him - even just in a mortal manner. Even if we let the first two - the marriage to Gabe and the lies about his father - stand as they are, Sally could have done something very simple to prepare Percy for his life and to help keeping him safe.

Self-defense classes. Judo. Martial arts. Sword-fighting classes. Whatever.

Many parents teach their kids these kind of things from a young age. Parents whose kids aren’t in constant danger of being attacked by monsters. One of your first parental instincts should be to teach your kid to be safe; to protect themselves. Give him the means to fight back.

So, that’s it. That’s the three very vital and important instances in which I think Sally failed Percy as a mother; not just once, but repeatedly, for years.

Instead of sending him to a safe place where he could learn about his heritage and learn control of his powers as well as learning how to fight the monsters after his life, she chose to marry an abusive, smelly man whose scent would mask Percy’s. Probably. Hopefully. But it didn’t really, not all the time. As shown by The Lightning Thief and monsters coming after Percy. And Percy starts to think he’s crazy, because at no point did she tell him about the monsters, and at no point does he really know how to fight for his life, because at no point did she put the means to defend himself into his hands.

No. No, I do not think that those are the decisions a good mother would make. Those are decisions the author made because he knew the starting point of his story and he knew where Percy’s character needed to be for that.

The thing that’s glossed over are the choices Riordan implicitly made Sally make. To get to this point for Percy, at age 12, he had to make Sally repeatedly act against Percy’s best interests and deliberately not tell Percy the truth or teach him way to stay safe. So he masks those choices by putting on a framework that’s meant to make you only look at her suffering and the outcome, not the choices that led to it. That was Riordan’s choice and he framed it in a way that the fandom ate up and celebrates, when... neither Sally, nor Riordan, had do to that. There was another option on the table and, if Riordan had sat down and thought hard, I’m pretty sure there would have been more options.

The bottom line, what Sally’s parenting comes down to in the end, is that she and Percy got stuck with an abusive man for six years, because she didn’t want to send him to an actual safe place, she spent six years essentially gaslighting Percy about the things he hears/sees by not telling him the monsters are actually real and she repeatedly left him in unnecessary danger by not giving him the means to defend himself in any way whatsoever. And those are not signs of good parenting, not in my book.

But it’s just so much easier to ignore all of that and pretend that blue candy and trips to Montauk are the end all be all and that Sally’s fierce love for her son is the most defining trait of parenting. I know that. Most of the time, I’m right there with you - I love fanon!Sally, I love to pretend she’s the best mom ever and never did anything wrong, because I know the decisions are inherently made by Riordan and are a by-product; I know he wants her to be a good mother, I know throughout the series, he writes her as a good and loving mother.

But if I have to be honest and if I look at the whole text, including the implications of their past, canon!Sally isn’t that good of a mother.

#I also think a part of it is Percy absolutely refusing to blame her for anything cause she’s all he has #and he doesn’t want to unpack some of the damage that she caused #because then he’ll have to come to terms with the fact that his mom made choices that knowingly hurt him regardless of the situation #this could have been a great arc about kids idolizing their parents and coming to terms with the fact that their human too #but ahh that implies that riordan is capable of complex storylines #sally jackson #Percy Jackson #tlt #pjo

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scary-grace · 2 days ago

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sips drink. I am going to need. [ ring ] for shigraki

Thank you for the prompt! As usual, I went a little berserk with it, and there is. so much smut in this. If you're not a fan/this is not the vibe, let me know and I'll write you a different one, or do a better job with your other prompts! 9k, AU with demons, succubus!reader, tons of smut. If you're a big fan of super dominant Tomura, this is not the fic for that. MDNI + thanks to @dogblessyoutascha for beta-reading on short notice and putting up with tons of yapping and fic about this guy.

wanted (if you want me)

a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

You're a down-on-your-luck succubus who just got rejected by the guy who summoned you, and you can't go back to Hell until you find somebody else's soul to steal. Shigaraki Tomura, reeling from a Valentine's Day rejection of his own, is the perfect victim. Or so you think. (cross-posted to Ao3)

“Sorry,” the guy who just summoned you says, sitting back from the pentagram he’s drawn on the floor with a frown. “You’re not my type.”

“I’m – what?” You feel stupid, which isn’t how you’re supposed to feel. You’re a demon, and a mortal’s just summoned you. You should feel powerful and lawless, not embarrassed. Not rejected. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’re not my type,” the guy says again. He gestures awkwardly at you. “I was hoping for somebody – more.”

“Did you want a guy or something?” you ask. You cross your arms over your chest. Your clothes are barely worthy of the title, and you don’t want this guy seeing your nipples if he’s not even into them. “If you wanted a guy, you should have summoned an incubus. It’s not my fault you can’t read.”

“I like girls,” the guy snaps at you, rather than addressing the fact that you just called him a moron. “You were supposed to look like this.”

He picks up the grimoire he was reading the incantation out of and holds it up to you. It must be a new edition of the same old grimoire, because the last version of it you saw didn’t include illustrations. The illustration in question is a demon, identifiable as such by her horns and tail, but she looks about as much like you as you do like an angel straight from Heaven’s hideous art-deco gates. She’s got the kind of proportions that don’t work on Earth or in Hell – tiny waist, enormous breasts, ass that needs its own zip code, and her outfit is so tiny that you can see her nipples and her clit through it. And then there’s the face she’s making, straight out of some seedy erotic magazine, with blown-out pupils and open mouth and a delicate flush across her cheeks, all ready to be ruined.

Your outfit is skimpy, sure, but not that skimpy. You have the parts you need, but they aren’t that exaggerated, and if you tried that stupid expression, you’re pretty sure your face would melt off. If this is what this mortal expected, of course he’s disappointed to have gotten you.

His disappointment isn’t your problem, and now you’re in a mood. “Let me get this straight. You summoned a succubus – a sex demon from the depths of Hell – to fulfill your fantasies, and you’ve decided that now’s the time to get picky.”

“I’m not being picky,” he says. “Girls like you don’t do it for me. Can’t you send somebody else?”

“Sorry. All my sisters are seducing hotter mortals than you.” You feel a surge of pleasure at the way the man flinches. Guys like these – when they summon a succubus, they’re always thinking about the sex part, not the part where you’re a demon. “They took one look at you and decided I was all you deserved, and you know what? I don’t think you deserve me, either.”

“Well, I don’t want you, so –”

“In fact,” you continue, rising to your feet and internally cursing the fact that you decided to materialize in fuck-me heels, “I don’t think you deserve to get laid ever again.”

The mortal blanches. “What?” he demands, taking a step back as you step forward out of the pentagram. “You can’t leave the circle unless I say.”

“You really should look into those reading lessons. You’ll have a lot of time on your hands.” You were just going to lay the curse, but you decide that’s not enough. You nail him in the balls with a sharp kick, and as he doubles over, you speak, your voice crackling with the fires of Hell. “May your erections always wither, no matter how much porn you watch or how many drugs you take. May you disappoint every lover you take to your bed, and may that bed lie as cold and empty as the grave where they’ll bury your impotent corpse.”

It's a pretty good curse, if you say so yourself. “You bitch,” the mortal spits, but you snap your fingers and seal his fate. You know the moment the curse settles over him. You see the despair in his eyes. “Take it back!”

“No,” you say. You grasp his chin in one hand and lean in close, so close that your breath huffs out against his lips. You scraped your tongue for this guy. He deserves all this and more. “I’ll see you in Hell.”

His eyes roll up in his head and he collapses to the floor. You step over his unconscious form and survey the apartment you’ve found yourself in, dingy and filthy and smelling unpleasantly of human body odor. This is the kind of mortal who thought it was wise to reject you, just because you didn’t exactly resemble the absurd sketch in his grimoire. This is the kind of mortal who thought you weren’t good enough for him. Your lower lip begins to tremble, no matter how hard you sink your sharp teeth into it, and sulfuric tears begin to leak from your eyes. You were so excited to be summoned, so hopeful that you could do a good job for once. Now you just want to go home.

But you can’t. When you try to dematerialize and let Hell call you back, you can’t, and you realize why not in the same second as you realize that you didn’t curse that human nearly hard enough. You were summoned to this world to serve a purpose – to fuck some mortal so hard that they’ll sell you their soul – and until you serve that purpose, you’re trapped here. You need to find a mortal to sleep with, immediately. And you can’t go out looking like this.

You ransack the mortal’s apartment. None of his street clothes are anything you’d be caught exorcised wearing, but he has a long coat that he probably thinks makes him look mysterious and cool. You shrug it on, noting that it covers your skimpy outfit while still providing easy access to your body when it’s time to take it off, and keep searching, in case there’s anything else you can use. Money, as it happens – this human has a bank account and credit cards, and even unconscious, it’s all too easy to read his mind for the PIN. You pocket all of it, hide your demon form with a glamour, then leave the apartment door wide open on your way out.

As soon as you hit the street, though, you realize that you have an even bigger problem than you thought. You assumed it was some featureless winter evening, the kind where a bored, lonely mortal has nothing better to do than flip through a grimoire and get himself into trouble, but every storefront you look at is decorated with hearts. Every mortal you pass on the street is on someone else’s arm, or carrying flowers, or making out in the glow of a streetlight. It’s Valentine’s Day. You’re fucked.

Contrary to what humans like the idiot who summoned you think, Valentine’s Day isn’t actually about sex. Sex is a side effect of what Valentine’s Day is really about, which is romance. It’s about love and soulmates and tenderness and affection and forever, which is exactly nothing you know anything about. Succubi and incubi exist on the dark side of all of that, in its nasty, sleazy, prurient shadow. You don’t court, you seduce. You don’t make love, you fuck. You don’t show people the face of God, or whatever that dumb-ass musical says; you show them the gates of Hell and walk them through. Seducing a random mortal is a tall order for you on a given day. Seducing one on Valentine’s Day is going to be damn near impossible.

You feel tears welling up again and blink them back. Crying over rejection from a filthy, useless mortal was bad enough. Demons shouldn’t feel that kind of pain, and if they do, they shouldn’t wallow in it. Demons get the job done. And it’s not totally hopeless, when you force yourself to be honest about it. For all the mortals who are happily coupled, there are plenty who aren’t, and if the mortal who summoned you is anything to judge by, some of them aren’t averse to a little salacious, damnation-worthy fun.

As far as places to find single humans go, you’re spoiled for choice; while all the restaurants have Valentine’s Day specials for mortals out on a date with their special someone, it seems as though every club or bar is advertising an event for singles. You peer into a few bars, but none of them strike you as having the right mood. Most of them carry a pathetic air of hopefulness, as if the humans within believe they really might find someone to love tonight of all nights. You don’t need hopefulness. You need desperation. You need a human so lonely and desperate that they won’t question why a stranger wants to fuck them. If you were attractive in your human guise, you’d have a better shot, but apparently you aren’t. Only a human who’s truly desperate would go for you.

Finally you come across a bar where the mood seems a little more appropriate. Some sort of singles event is winding down as you come in, and you sense the despair beginning to set in. Most of the humans here could easily pair up with one of the others if they were willing to alter their standards, but humans have gotten entitled these days, and they all think they deserve a partner who matches their ideals. They cling to that fiction even as the mood in the bar worsens. They don’t need to settle. They’re holding out for true love.

Pathetic. You square your shoulders and wade into the mix.

The gender of your target doesn’t matter to you. It doesn’t even matter if they’re willing to sell their soul tonight – once you’ve fucked them, you can come back as many times as it takes for them to give it over. But even with your criteria broadened, you’re having trouble. As you search through the humans, tasting the flavor of their emotions every time you brush against one, you don’t find a single one who feels the way you need them to.

You taste sadness. Loneliness. Despair. Resignation or acceptance – sometimes they’re hard to tell apart. A few strange humans have even found refuge in faith, some idiosyncratic hope that they’ll find what they’re meant to find when the time is right, as if God has time to ordain such stupid things. On another night, you’d take pleasure in crushing their hopes, but your own hopes of getting out of here are sinking by the second. You need a human. Any human will do.

But just as you’re resigning yourself to seduce a woman, one whose loneliness carries just the faintest tinge of despair, you’re hit with a wave of exactly what you’ve been looking for. Not just despair, but disappointment. Not just loneliness, but hurt. Not just resignation, but frustration and embarrassment, at feeling hurt and disappointed and finding themselves here at all. You turn away from the woman without ever drawing her attention to you and follow the thread of rejection through the bar to a booth in the corner, where a mortal sits alone.

Along with the relief of finding a target at last, the first feeling that crosses your mind is surprise. This isn’t the sort of mortal you’d expect to find alone on Valentine’s Day, just based on his looks alone – almost-delicate facial features, long white hair, a frame that’s broad-shouldered yet lithe, observable even when he’s seated. As you get closer, you see a birthmark below the corner of his mouth, scars over his mouth and eye, and long lashes framing his crimson eyes. This mortal is pretty. Some of your sisters don’t care what their targets look like, but you like your mortal men pretty.

The mortal looks up as you come to the edge of his table. He seems as surprised to see you as you are to see him. “You’re late to the party.”

“Apparently not, since you’re here. Do you mind if I sit down? My feet are hurting in these shoes.”

He looks down at your shoes, and just like you were hoping, his eyes trace upwards, over your bare ankle to your calf to your knee before it disappears beneath your stolen coat. “Go ahead,” he says. “There’s room.”

There’s plenty of room, but you sit down next to him anyway, your leg pressed against his. You feel him startle, feel him go tense, and decide it’s worth drawing attention to. “Did I scare you?”

“No,” he says, but you can hear his heart beginning to race. “Just wondering if this is a setup or something. People like you don’t usually want anything to do with people like me.”

“People like me?” you say. You turn towards him, elbow propped on the table, chin propped in your hand. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb,” your mortal says. “Looks like yours, there’s no way you’re single.”

You can’t imagine this mortal’s self-deprecating angle working on anyone, but the compliment makes you glow ever so slightly. “Strange. I was thinking the same about you.”

Your mortal doesn’t glow. He blushes. “Don’t lie.”

“Would I lie?” Yes, frequently and gleefully – but not right now. “You’re gorgeous.”

He scoffs, averts his eyes, but his heart’s beating faster. It’s cute, and since he’s opened this door, you might as well walk through. Time for a little touching. You start with the scar above his eye. “I like this, and this –” you trace the scar, then tuck a few strands of white hair behind his ear, letting your fingers graze across his cheek and down to his jaw before reaching the scar over his mouth. “And this –”

He speaks while your fingers are still against his lips. “Careful.”

“I’m being really careful,” you promise. You run your fingers over his mouth again, slow and teasing, then turn your attention to the birthmark. “And I like this. It really completes the picture. Whoever rejected you tonight, they were out of their mind.”

“I could say the same about whoever rejected you.” Your mortal’s hand brushes against your knee, then drifts away, and you shiver ever so slightly. You like this mortal. It’s always easier when you like them. “I saw you watching the rest of them. Why did you pick me?”

“Like I said, you’re gorgeous,” you say, and shrug. The shrug presses you a little closer against him, and you don’t pull back. “And you looked like you were having the same kind of night as I am. I thought we could make each other feel better.”

He gives you a skeptical look, but the flush in his cheeks gives him away. Oh, you like this one. Even if he gives you his soul tonight, you’ll come back to visit him at least a few more times. “How do you think we can do that?”

“By giving each other what we want,” you say. “Don’t you get tired of having to play a part, to be what someone else expects you to be, and never have your desires fulfilled? I could give you that.”

He scoffs. “You think you know what my desires are?”

“You’d tell me,” you murmur. “That’s the point.”

Your mortal’s skepticism doesn’t fade, but neither does his blush. “What about what you want? I don’t buy for a second that it’s just to sleep with me.”

The question gives you pause. It’s not one you’ve thought of before. Succubi don’t have sexual desires, really – your goal is always to seduce your target, which means it’s all about what your target wants. You aren’t very good at your job, but you’ve put up with all sorts of things, doing them or having them done to you, if it means the mortal you’re fucking will hand over their soul. What you want, personally, doesn’t factor in even slightly. What do you want from this mortal? You don’t know.

“You don’t know,” your mortal says, as though you’ve spoken aloud. His hand brushes against your leg again, settles there. “I’ll help you find out.”

“Only if you tell me what you want,” you insist, as he brushes your coat aside and finds your leg bare. His fingertips are dry and rough as they trail over your skin, brushing the inside of your thigh. “Oh –”

“Too much?” he asks. There’s an almost wicked glint in his eye.

You feel your own heart pick up the pace. This will be a challenge. You like a challenge. “Answer my question first. Every time you answer, you can move your hand.”

“I want you.”

“Wrong answer.” You close your legs, not that they were that far apart in the first place. You’re not easy. “I asked about your unfulfilled desires, and you just met me today. I can’t be the only thing you want.”

“Mm.” Your mortal makes a dissatisfied noise. Even as he leaves his hand in place, you see an awkwardness settle over him – nerves, or something like it. For such a gorgeous mortal, he’s an interesting contradiction. “I want – to be out of control.”

“Out of control?” You won’t open your legs just yet. “Tell me more.”

“You were right about me. I’m always doing what others want. I always have to be in control. I want to be outside my own control,” your mortal says. He can’t meet your eyes, and the flush in his cheeks looks almost uncomfortable. When you lean in to kiss it, his skin is hot beneath your lips. “I want someone else to –”

“Praise you? Worship you? Pleasure you until you can barely think?” You know you’ve got him by the sharp intake of breath, by the way he startles. “That would be my pleasure, too.”

You part your legs enough to free his hand, and his fingers, shaking slightly, work their way up the inside of your thigh. “What else?” you ask. “Be specific.”

“I want whatever you can give me.” He turns his head, looking away, which is an error on his part; it leaves his neck exposed, and you lean in to kiss it, feeling his pulse jump and race. “If I tell you it’s too much, I want you to give me more.”

“That was a good answer.” You part your legs a little further, and he takes it as the invitation it is. “Anything else?”

“I want to do the same to you,” your mortal says, and your face flushes. “It’s only fair. If you get to ruin me, I get to ruin you.”

Ruining him calls to mind all sorts of things, acts you’ve performed for other mortals by rote, acts you want nothing more than to perform for him, and the thought overwhelms you enough that you miss what he’s doing with his hand between your legs until he’s touching you, tracing your clit through the thin fabric. You realize with some degree of horror that you’re wet, and worse, that even his delicate touch has you spreading your legs wider. While you weren’t paying attention, your mortal made a bid for the upper hand, and he almost got it.

Not quite, though. You renew your efforts on his neck, feeling him shudder. You’ll do as he asks, as he desires – but not until he begs you, out loud, to give him what he needs. He shifts, squirms, in response to your attentions to his neck, much as you’re doing with his hand between your legs. “Mutual ruination,” you muse. “That sounds like a plan to me.”

Your hand’s been trapped at your side. You work it free and slip it behind his head, tangling your fingers in his hair. Then you turn him back to face you, drinking in the sight of him for a moment before you lean in to kiss him. The only way your mortal’s never had his desires fulfilled is if he’s never voiced them. You can’t imagine anyone looking at him, seeing him like this, and denying him what he wants.

Most mortals you’ve seduced lose patience with kissing quickly. The kind of mortals who summon a succubus only have one thing on their mind, but your mortal doesn’t know what you are. He kisses you eagerly, if inexpertly, and it’s only right for you to reward his enthusiasm. Besides, there’s something about kissing him that feels right, too right for the unholiness of what you are. If being with a mortal feels this good, you’re probably doing it wrong.

What does it matter? As long as you sleep with him, you’ll be free to return home. You’re a demon. Wrongness and rightness don’t factor in. You kiss your mortal carefully, paying some mind to the sharpness of your teeth and the delicateness of his skin. He’s less careful with his teeth. They nick your lip and blood wells out, and he licks it away without a moment’s hesitation. That flick of his tongue makes you consider other places it might belong, and you catch your breath. Or maybe it’s because he’s tugged your underwear aside to touch you directly, and you can no longer ignore the way he makes you feel.

You lean back, struggling to clear your head. A thought crosses your mind. “What’s your name?”

“Tomura.” Your mortal’s crimson eyes are dilated with want, the desperation you were so drawn to evident across his face. “Please –”

You kiss him again, and as he begins to finger you in earnest, stroking your clit and dipping his fingers shallowly inside you, you untangle your fingers from his hair and trace the inside of his thigh. Tomura startles at your touch, but spreads his legs at once, and your head spins with want. “How long have you wanted this?” you murmur against his lips. “Tell me.”

“Eternity.” Tomura twitches as you brush your hand over his groin before returning to toy with his thigh again. “But it’s not what they want me for. Nobody asked what I wanted until you.”

“Then they were missing out.” You bite back a gasp as Tomura sinks two fingers inside you, curling them just so, but his touch is only half the reason – the other half is the thought that you’re the first to see him this way, the only one to see him this way. “If they could see how pretty you are like this –”

“Do you want them to?”

“No,” you decide at once. You brush your hand over his groin again, noting how tightly his pants are stretched over his hardening cock. “I want you all to myself.”

His body jerks, craning upwards into your touch. “Now,” he says, almost demands. “I need it now.”

“People could see,” you warn. “If they walk by, they’ll know we’re up to something. Do you care about that?”

“Yes,” Tomura says, and you run your thumb over the tip of his cock through his pants. His body jerks, and you do it again. Again. “Fuck –”

“We can leave whenever you want,” you say, even as your body tenses around his fingers. You feel wound tight, your legs shaking from the strain, your lungs feeling as though they can’t hold on to even a single whisper of air. Mortals have choked you before while you’re seducing them and it’s never been like this. “Tell me to stop and we’ll go.”

Tomura doesn’t tell you to stop. You undo his belt, unzip his pants, and the instant your hand closes around his cock, he moans, loud enough to attract attention if anyone from the failed singles event is still around. He’s embarrassed by it – you can tell – but he doesn’t tell you to stop, and you keep stroking his cock. “So pretty,” you say, your voice catching as the heel of his hand presses against your clit. “Does that feel good? Let me make you feel even better.”

You grasp his wrist and pull his hand from between your legs, thankful for the reprieve. Tomura tastes his fingers, savoring them in a way that makes you feel almost awkward. “I wasn’t done.”

“No, but you’re about to make a mess.” You give a pointed glance down at his cock, which is oozing enough precum to stain his underwear. “I’ll be right back.”

There’s plenty of space for you under the table, and better yet, you’re out of sight, which means Tomura can’t see your reaction to the way he spreads his legs for you. And you haven’t vanished a moment too soon. You can hear footsteps approaching, and you sit forward and take his cock in your mouth just as the newcomers arrive.

“You sure you need this whole booth when you’re by yourself?” whoever it is asks. You hear Tomura start to answer, but you suck lightly on the tip of his cock, forcing him to bite back a curse. “What is your problem?”

“No problem,” Tomura grunts. You put your tongue to use, tracing it over his tip as you wrap your hand around the rest of his length. “Fuck – fuck off. There are other places to sit.”

The newcomer might say something else, but you can’t hear it around your own heartbeat thudding in your ears. Tomura wants you. He wants you so badly that he’s letting you blow him in public, that he won’t tell you to stop even when the two of you might be caught. The instant the other mortal leaves, you’re cradling his balls in your free hand, then sliding your hand a little further to press against his taint. Tomura’s entire body jerks and trembles. “Careful,” he forces out between gasps of air. “I’m going to – come –”

You wish you weren’t under the table, even if being under the table is necessary to contain the mess. You wish you could see Tomura’s face as his composure shatters, as he tries and fails to thrust upwards into your mouth and spills a ridiculous amount of cum down your throat. But he’s not quite out of control, not yet, and if you’re going to steal his soul, you really should give him what he wants first. You keep stroking his cock even as the shaking subsides, your tongue still dragging over his tip. He hasn’t gone soft just yet. You’re kind of impressed.

You’re impressed, too, with how he holds out. You know you’re overstimulating him, but he hasn’t told you to stop yet. And he asked you to keep going even if he told you it was too much. Still, you don’t like the idea of hurting your mortal. You renew your efforts, employing all the tricks you’ve learned to keep mortal men hanging on your every move, and to your shock, Tomura comes again. This time he’s almost sobbing, and you draw back at once, climbing out from under the table to check on your handiwork.

There are scratches in the couch cushions and on the tabletop, and both the napkins that were on the table have been crumpled out of existence. Tomura looks wrecked. He’s been yanking at the collar of his shirt, running his hands through his hair, and his face is flushed and sweaty. His eyes are blurred, and he’s still breathing hard, but when you lean in to kiss him, he obliges instantly. He’s unsteady, and yet there’s a strange hunger in the way he kisses you, a hunger that takes yours and amplifies it in a way you can’t quantify, let alone guard against. You find yourself melting into his touch, needing closeness, needing contact. And he gives it to you.

You’ve only just settled into a languid pace, your hands in his hair and his arms wrapped firmly around your waist, when someone smacks a server’s tray down on the table and startles you out of it. It’s the bartender. “Do you mind?” she demands, her face red. “This isn’t that kind of place! Take it outside.”

That’s fine with you. A little PDA is one thing, but whatever happens next between you and Tomura, you want privacy for it. You start to slide out of the booth, but Tomura won’t let you. He kisses you again, and you realize he’s giving himself cover to button his pants. But as long as you’re here – “What did I just say?” the bartender explodes. “Get out!”

You and Tomura stumble out onto the street, and the instant the door shuts behind you, Tomura pins you against it to kiss you again. “Does that feel good?” he asks, the same question you asked him earlier. You didn’t give him a chance to answer, and he doesn’t give you one, either. “Let’s go somewhere. You’re not the only one who doesn’t like to share.”

“Where should we go?” you ask. “I’d rather not go to a love hotel. Your place?”

He hesitates for a moment. “My place. Come on.”

You kiss on the train platform, mostly to keep out the cold, but on the train, you find yourself simply looking at Tomura, talking to him. You find out that he got rejected tonight, too, and came to the bar to mope about it. “They’re nothing. Their opinions don’t matter,” he says. Even his disdain sounds like yours. “That doesn’t change how it feels.”

“I know,” you say. You lean against him, your head on his shoulder, your left hand intertwined with his right. “My – date – said I wasn’t his type, then showed me this ridiculous drawing –”

“May his dick shrivel up and fall off,” Tomura says matter-of-factly, and you find yourself giggling. “If you aren’t enough for him, he doesn’t deserve to have any at all. Still –”

He trails off. “His loss, my gain.”

“You’re just saying that because I blew you.”

Tomura snorts. “Don’t be stupid. You asked what I wanted. Nobody’s ever asked me that. That’s not what I’m for.”

“What do you mean?” you ask. He doesn’t strike you as a sex worker – he’s too earnest, too vulnerable, in how he responds to you for it to be his day job. He shrugs, shakes his head. “I think you’re for whatever you want to be for. That’s how you are to me.”

His grip on your hand tightens for a moment, then loosens again, fingers tangling with yours. A strange spark, like an electric shock, ripples across your hand, and you look down to see an odd shadow around your ring finger. That wasn’t there before, but then again, you’ve never spent this long in the mortal world without fulfilling your purpose. “What about you?” Tomura asks. “Why don’t you know what you want?”

“I never thought about it before.” Some of your sisters enjoy their jobs, but it’s always felt like a job to you. Something to get through, so you can go home. “It hasn’t really mattered.”

“It matters now,” Tomura says. “When we get back to my place, I’ll show you.”

Tomura’s place is in a downtown high-rise, the third floor from the top of the building, and he gives you long enough to finally step out of your awful shoes before he peels you out of your jacket. For a single moment you’re convinced you’re about to see the same reaction as the mortal who summoned you, but instead Tomura’s eyes travel slowly over your form, lingering in every place you’d expect and a few places you didn’t. “This picture he showed you,” he says. “The one he thought was better than you. What did it look like?”

“Uh –” Where do you start, really? “The proportions were totally off. Its waist was tiny, and its breasts were huge –”

“Huh.” Tomura’s hands are at your waist, running over the curve from torso to hip and back with a firm, steady touch. One stays there, but the other migrates upwards, cupping your breast through your scant clothing. “What else?”

“It had this stupid outfit on. Like, way smaller than mine. You could see everything,” you say. Tomura’s thumb brushes over your nipple, then comes back to circle it, and heat begins to pool in your lower abdomen. “It barely covered her nipples – or her clit. It just looked kind of – I mean, I can hang in there with the best of them, but –”

Your voice catches. Tomura’s hand slides from your waist down between your legs, stroking your clit with his middle finger. His touch is featherlight, compared to the way he’s playing with your nipple, pinching and tugging it, making you squirm. “What else?” he prompts.

“The stupid face she was making. It was straight out of a porno – like, one of the really cheap ones. What some guy who’s never seen a woman come before would –” You startle as Tomura’s fingers slip further between your legs, then sink easily into you. “Tomura –”

“This drawing sounds like a fucking mess,” Tomura says. He reaches down and grasps your thigh, hiking your leg up around his waist and leaving you even more exposed for him. “I want to see the real thing.”

He wants you to come for him. You know how to fake a convincing orgasm – or an unconvincing one, depending on the target – but you don’t want to fake for Tomura. You promised him he can have what he wants, and he wants this, you. Your chest goes tight. “I don’t know if I can, like this.”

“I’ve got lots of ideas.” Tomura kisses you, and that need to melt into him resurfaces, even as your body responds to his onslaught. “Show me.”

You try to keep kissing him, but you can’t. Your legs are shaking again, and it’s hard to breathe, and you have to draw back to gasp for air. Somewhere in the back of your mind is the thought that this isn’t how it’s supposed to happen, that something went wrong in your seduction of this mortal if he’s the one trying to please you, but it’s stifled by other, more pressing matters. The heat flooding through you, the awful and yet indescribable exposure of your legs spread this way, Tomura’s hand anchoring you so you can’t pull back off his fingers until he’s done with you.

Or until you’re done with him. You come hard enough to blur your vision, hard enough that your legs almost give out, and Tomura keeps his fingers inside you until your twitching and squirming subsides. When he draws them back, you can see that his hand is soaked. He brings them to his mouth to taste them again, and you spot a shadow around his fourth finger. It can’t hold your attention for long. “That was good,” he decides. “But I want to see more.”

“More?” Your voice is shaky, and you’re hanging onto Tomura for dear life. “What do you mean?”

“You said I could have what I wanted,” Tomura reminds you. “This way.”

You follow him down the hall on shaky legs, into a bedroom with an enormous bed. Finally. You’re not getting into bed with Tomura still wearing your horrible outfit, so you peel it off, then turn to help him with his clothes. You undress him slowly, kissing every inch of skin you uncover, trying to regain some of your lost composure. But it’s hard to compose yourself when there’s so much of him to explore, to praise. So pretty, so noisy, so needy even when there’s no need for it – because you want him to have what he wants, and you want to be the one who gives it to him. The only one who gives it to him.

And that’s what you find yourself murmuring, as you guide him down to the bed to lie on his stomach, as you brush his long hair aside to kiss his back and his shoulders. I have what you need. Everything you need. You’re mine.

Tomura’s breathing turned quick and shallow a while ago, worse as you kiss the small of his back, the arch of his hip. He stirs beneath you. “I want to see more,” he says. “On your back.”

He’ll fuck you now, and he’ll come, and then you can finally go home. You spread your legs, leaving room for him to settle between them, and he does – much further down than you expected. He anchors your hips to the bed before you can stop him, holding you down with strong hands as he lowers his head between your thighs. The way his hair brushes against them tickles. The marks he leaves on them are oversensitive, making your legs twinge long before his tongue drags over your clit, and you wonder how you’ll explain the marks when you get back to Hell. How you’ll explain the fact that this mortal seduced you almost as skillfully as you seduced him.

Tomura eats you out messily, enthusiastically, until you’re arching your back and thrashing in his grip. The heat of his mouth against you, the pressure of his tongue against your clit or the way it feels when he licks inside of you – it all feels almost sinful. Too good for you to have, too good to want more of, too good not to beg him to keep going. You can barely manage to praise him for it, but when you do, his grip on your hips tightens and he grinds against the mattress. It’s wrong. There’s something wrong, and you want it so badly, and for the first time, you understand a little bit of why humans are so quick to sell their souls.

Tomura makes you come once, then a second time while you’re still trying to recover, and you barely manage to scramble away before he can slide his fingers inside you and try for a third. “What happened to not being in control?” you ask, and he shrugs, half a smirk on his face. “Lie down. It’s my turn.”

You crawl over him as he lies back, tasting yourself on his lips when you lean down for a kiss. Tomura relaxes so easily for you now, so much that he lets you grasp his hands one by one, raising them above his head. For the first time since you cloaked your true form, you engage in a little bit of demon magic. Enough to conjure restraints, and tie Tomura’s hands to the headboard before he can so much as open his eyes.

You’ve shocked him. You can see it, and better yet, you can feel it, in the way his skin heats up and his heart races. “You said you didn’t want control,” you remind him. “And I said I’d pleasure you until you couldn’t think.”

“Are you?” Tomura’s voice goes raspy. He watches you with wide eyes as you shift further down on the bed. “What are you going to do?”

“Everything.”

You learned all sorts of magic in the course of stepping into your role as a succubus, but this is the first time in a while that you’ve used any of it. And it’s for small things – the restraints on Tomura’s hands, the feather you conjure to trace all over his body until he squirms, the lube you coat your fingers with before you start working them inside him. Tomura doesn’t stop you, but he has a request. “Don’t fuck me like that. Not tonight.”

“Just my fingers,” you promise, and he nods, his eyes dark with need. “Whatever you want.”

You haven’t had the chance to watch Tomura come yet, and you get a chance as you finger him to an orgasm. He takes your breath away, your mortal – so pretty, so vulnerable, so loud and expressive and lost in it that you can’t help but stroke his cock with your free hand while you work him up a second time. In an ordinary seduction, with an ordinary target, now is when you’d stop. Now, when all he can do is beg for you, now when he’d give you anything to keep going; right now is when you’d ask for his soul in exchange. You know how to phrase it so that the mortals never guess what they’re truly giving up. It would be easy.

And it’s not what you want. There aren’t words for how much you don’t want that. Not when you’ve earned your mortal’s trust, not when he’s certain enough that you’ll give him what he wants that he doesn’t feel shame in begging for it. You know Tomura’s close when he starts squirming away from your fingers rather than clenching down on them. “Ride me,” he pants. “Ride my cock.”

Demon magic cleans your hands, and you slip down onto his cock with only a little strain. “You’re perfect,” you tell him as he stares helplessly up at you. “We fit so well –”

Tomura’s hips jerk upwards beneath you, making you gasp. “If we fit so well, come on my cock,” he pants. He’s been yanking at the restraints. You made them soft, but his wrists are chafed. “I need you to. I can’t – fuck, I need you –”

You’ve never needed a mortal before. You’ve never needed anyone before, but you need him, enough that doing what he asks doesn’t feel far-fetched at all. You ride him slowly, finding an angle that suits you, realizing how sore you are in the same moment. It’s been a hard night’s work. Usually mortals can’t keep up with you, and usually it feels like work. Tomura’s fingers curl and uncurl uselessly as he fights the restraints, and you reach up to grasp them, to hold them steady. And that’s when you notice it – the same shadow marking around his fourth finger as around yours.

Where did that come from? What is that? The restraints you conjured vanish in the space of a single heartbeat, and Tomura’s hands clamp down on your hips, guiding you as he thrusts upwards. His hair is glued to his forehead with sweat, to his chest and his shoulders and the sides of his neck, and the same heat writhes beneath your own skin as Tomura takes control over your pace. His thrusts are unsteady, but every time, he finds the angle you need him to.

You can’t breathe. You can barely think. Everything narrows down to heat and pressure and friction and pleasure and agony, because your body’s wrung out and still needs more, because Tomura’s falling apart beneath you and pressing his thumb over your clit to take you down with him. Pleasure explodes through you, collapsing you on top of Tomura. His grip on you barely loosens, even as your efforts to hold onto anything fall away. Anything includes your human guise.

Damn it. You untangle yourself from Tomura as quickly as possible, only to tuck yourself in against his side, uncomfortably relieved when he holds you tight. If you keep your tail under control and he doesn’t get a good look at you, he’ll never know what you really were. He’ll know something’s up, though. When he wakes up and finds that you’ve vanished out of this world, leaving evidence only in the chafe-marks around his wrists and the taste of you still on his tongue, he’ll know there was something strange about you. And he’ll have a lot of questions when you come back.

And you will come back. That’s the only thing that makes the knowledge that you’re mere moments from being drawn back to Hell bearable. Most of the time you can’t wait to leave your targets, whether you’ve collected their souls or not. This time, though – “I don’t want to leave yet.”

But you weren’t the only one speaking. Tomura said the same thing, on the off-beats as you spoke. “You’re leaving?” you ask. “This is your house. Where are you going?”

“Where are you going?” Tomura retorts. His grip on you tightens further – tight enough to bruise, if you were human or mortal. “What –”

He sits up suddenly, pulling you with him. Hell is pulling you back, but not quickly enough. Tomura looks at you, sees you – sees your horns, sees your tail, which is lashing anxiously in spite of your efforts to calm yourself. But you see him, too. You see the ram’s horns curling from beneath his white hair, the sharpness of his teeth. He’s not trying to control his tail at all. It wraps around your leg tightly. “You’re a demon.”

“So are you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why didn’t you know?” You try to separate yourself from him. Tomura should be letting go of you, should be shoving you away, but he’s still holding on, tighter every time you try to pull away. “Let go. If they find out –”

The world tears open around the two of you, well before you can pull away, and Hell pulls you back in at warp speed.

You don’t end up back in the spot you dematerialized from, and you doubt Tomura does, either. The two of you crash down on a rocky plateau, just on the outskirts of one of the cities, a desolate place no one comes to unless they’ve been cast out to wander amongst the souls of the dead. Why are you here? Is it because you came back together? Maybe that’s why – it couldn’t return you to your separate summoning locations when you’re so close together, so it split the difference and dropped you off here. Maybe there’s still time for you to hide this.

“Wow,” a familiar voice announces from somewhere behind you, and your heart sinks, “have the two of you fucked up.”

Tomura swears under his breath. “Is that your boss?”

Your boss, or your mother – nobody’s clear on which. Nemuri is picking her way through the jagged stones towards you, a vicious smirk on her face. “I can explain,” you start. “It’s not –”

“I tricked her,” Tomura interrupts. You stare at him in horror. “It was me. Not her.”

“No,” you snap. “I seduced him. I’m the one who –”

“I’m sure you believe that.” Nemuri’s smirk broadens, showing her fangs. “You’re so pathetically incompetent that –”

“Now, now, Nem. Let’s not let my guy off the hook here.” The new voice, loud and rich and full of almost-insane laughter, can only belong to another elder demon. Like Nemuri, he’s wearing a vicious smirk. “Remember, my guy’s the one who got rejected by his summoner and packed it in for the evening. At least yours gave it a second shot.”

“That’s my boss,” Tomura mumbles. “Fuck.”

“In fact,” Tomura’s boss continues, “one could argue that your girl’s off the hook. She did her job. It’s not her fault that my guy’s aura of misery was so strong that it made him actually look human. Or that he was so desperate to be wanted by somebody that he forgot to check whether she was actually a demon trying to steal his soul.”

Tomura’s shoulders hunch, and a surge of anger runs through you. “When you put it that way, Hizashi, it does sound like my nymphet is off the hook,” Nemuri says. “But when your pathetic little imp tried to take the fall for her, she wouldn’t let him. It seems they’re terrible at everything demonic, lying included. They’re telling the truth.”

“They really did seduce each other,” Hizashi muses. “That’s cringe.”

“More importantly, it’s against the rules.” Nemuri’s standing over you. Hizashi joins her, and the two of them leer down at you and Tomura, practically licking their lips. “Whatever shall we do with them?”

There aren’t many punishments that can affect demons – you’re basically gluttons for it. Then again, there aren’t many rules for demons to break. “I’m not sure,” Hizashi says. “Offer them up to Heaven for punishment? Banish them to the mortal world until the trumpets sound? Throw them out to wander with the restless dead forevermore?”

You might not love your job, but you have your sisters. If you’re cast out, you’ll never see them again. The only thing worse would be getting thrown to Heaven as an offering, one of Hell’s not-infrequent tithes to keep the peace. Tomura’s tail wraps around your waist, and you cover his left hand with your right as you wait for your fates to be decided. The thought crosses your mind, pointlessly, that you won’t spend an eternity of exile entirely alone. You’ve dragged someone else down with you, which might be the most demonic thing you’ve ever done in your life.

“Now that I think about it,” Nemuri says, her smirk broadening still further, “I don’t think we need to punish them – not when they’ve punished themselves so effectively.”

“What does that mean?” Tomura snaps. Hizashi is guffawing, his voice echoing off the jagged rocks. “Don’t laugh. What does that mean?”

“What does it mean, you gloomy brat?” Hizashi wipes at his eyes, still chuckling. “Take a look at your hands, both of you.”

You let go of Tomura’s and lift your own. Your right hand is clear, but your left – you remember noticing the shadow around your fourth finger, feeling the faint spark as it darkened a little further. It’s not a shadow anymore. Instead it’s a thin golden shackle, encircling your finger below your knuckle. No, not a shackle. A ring.

It won’t come off. You yank on it, try to dig your nails beneath it, but it won’t come off. Next to you, Tomura’s doing the same, cursing fluently, and Hizashi and Nemuri are laughing at you both, leaning on each other to stay upright. “It’s the first rule we teach you all when you’re spawned. No fucking your own kind, and this is why!” Hizashi is laughing almost too hard to speak, while you try to chew your ring off and Tomura breaks his own finger trying to remove his. “Thanks to your little tryst, the two of you are bound forever in unholy matrimony!”

“My congratulations to the happy couple,” Nemuri says. “The two of you are never going to live this down. You’ll be the laughingstocks of Hell. You’re going to beg us to banish you!”

“And we won’t,” Hizashi says. “I can’t think of a better object lesson than the two of you. We send you to the mortal realm to collect souls, and not only did you end up fucking each other, you didn’t commit a single demonic act!”

“I cursed somebody,” you protest.

“Me too,” Tomura says. “The mortal who –”

You remember what Tomura said about the mortal who rejected you: May his dick shrivel up and fall off. “You cursed the same mortal,” Nemuri says. She pauses a moment. “I will admit, it’s a fairly creative curse. The imp’s little add-on will make a nice insult to the injury.”

You’re better at cursing mortals than you are at seducing them, but you can’t imagine Tomura’s bad at it. Not with the way he worked you over. You duck your head to hide the heat coming up in your face. “Well, we’ll leave the two of you to enjoy your honeymoon,” Hizashi says. He shrugs off the ornate robe he’s wearing and drops it on the ground in front of you, revealing body chains, nipple piercings, and nothing else. “Wear this on your way back into the city. Maintain a little dignity.”

“Here, imp. Just for you.” Nemuri drops her robe over Tomura’s head, and he shoves it off into the dust. “Everyone’s going to know about your little bout of lovemaking, but I imagine you’d prefer if they didn’t know exactly how you’ve been chewing on each other.”

The two of them stroll back towards the city, arm in arm, still laughing. It’s a long time before their laughter fades, and then you and Tomura are alone on the outskirts. The wind, blowing hot a moment before, changes direction, growing cold and carrying sharp shards of ice. You put on Hizashi’s robe, then turn towards Tomura. He’s already shivering, arms crossed and shoulders hunched, Nemuri’s robe discarded in front of him. You pick it up and settle it back around his shoulders, shifting his hair aside so it won’t get caught beneath the collar – and then you realize what you’re doing. You freeze. “Sorry.”

Tomura shrugs, but the robe stays on. “You’re better at this than your boss says you are,” he says without looking at you. “I believed you.”

“I’m worse than she says I am,” you say. “I wasn’t lying.”

Tomura looks up at that, and you look away, your eyes stinging in the freezing wind. You never lied to Tomura, not from the moment you approached him. This would be so much less embarrassing if you had. If you’d listened to any of the moments where you sensed that it was going a little too well, that it felt a little too good. If you’d kept your distance instead of falling under his spell as quickly and easily as he fell under yours. “Your boss was talking out of his ass. Your whole thing worked really well on me.”

“Yeah. Except it wasn’t a thing.” Tomura’s tail wraps loosely around your wrist. “Mutual ruination. You were right.”

He’s got your right wrist. You study your left hand with its ring, and Tomura lifts his alongside yours. His ring looks the same as yours, although he’s dislocated his fourth finger in addition to having broken it. “Want me to fix that?”

“Demon magic doesn’t fix things.”

“It’s not supposed to marry people, either.” You’re not expecting that argument to work, but Tomura lets you capture his hand anyway. You relocate it manually, then try to work some magic over it. All your magic serves to make a seduction easier, so it shouldn’t be hard to twist it into something you can use for the sake of your – “I think it worked. How do you feel?”

“Like I fucked up,” Tomura says. Fair enough. “And I’m not sorry.”

“What?”

“You heard me.” Tomura’s hands slip inside your stolen robe, settling into the same place he was holding on as you rode him. “This isn’t that weird. Mortals do it all the time.”

“Except mortals who get married in Vegas can get divorced,” you point out. Somebody has to play angel’s advocate here, even if you’re already unfolding yourself from seated so you can get into his lap. “We didn’t even make any vows.”

“You did,” Tomura says. “I heard you say it.”

You’re mine. Is that really all it took? It makes a certain kind of sense, when you force yourself to look at it honestly. Mortals almost never doom themselves consciously. It’s always a moment of weakness, a split-second lapse, an instant where desire rules over reason. “Then you can break us up. Since I’m the only one who vowed anything.”

“No way.” Tomura’s lips brush the side of your neck, making your nerves twinge. “I agreed.”

You set your hands on his shoulders and push him backwards, and he goes willingly. The way he’s looking up at you counts as a sin all on its own – crimson eyes half-lidded, pupils already dilating, his cheekbones already dusted with pink. “Did you figure out what you want yet?”

“I have some ideas,” you say. You collect his hands from your waist and pin them on either side of his head, leaning down for a long, slow kiss. “But I’ll start with you.”

#shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x you #tomura shigaraki x you #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x you #man door hand hook car door #x reader #reader insert #a bisquared production #asks #throwing this at the internet and running away forever #this consumed me yesterday

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love-byers · 10 hours ago

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i've seen a few anti-byler people say they view byler the same as percy and nico from percy jackson, meaning that both dynamics are just a tool to reveal one character's sexuality. and i think that's interesting because i've always thought the opposite

if you're not familiar with percy jackson, percy is of course the main character, and nico is a recurring side character introduced in the third book (there are 5 books total). in the sequel series, heroes of olympus, it is revealed in the fourth book (of five total) that nico once had a crush on percy.

nico's crush on percy was undoubtedly just a tool to reveal the fact that nico was gay. so let's go through the several differences between these two dynamics, because it's actually in byler's favor

first of all, percy and nico have a four year age gap. when they meet in book 3 nico is 10 and percy is 14, so this comparison is automatically garbage. will is literally 2 weeks older than mike. needed to get that out of the way at the beginning lol

aside from that, mike and will are best friends of 7 years when s1 begins. they became best friends on the first day of kindergarten, they are extremely close, they hang out every day. mike's entire arc in s1 is about finding will. we see how he defends will behind his back, how devastated he is when he thinks will is dead, how he clings to the first bit of proof that he may be alive even though no one believes him, how happy he is when will is found. he runs into will's hospital room and lays his head on will's chest. and we all know about s2 byler...

in the first pjo book, we have no idea nico exists, and neither does percy. percy bonds with annabeth (his love interest) for the entire story (as well as every book besides the third because she was kidnapped at the beginning, and percy's sole motivation was to save her. sounds familiar...).

pjo spoilers ahead (its been out for 20 years come on...)

in the third book, nico is absent for the majority of it because percy leaves camp on a quest with bianca, nico's older sister. bianca dies on the quest, and at the very end of the book percy tells him what happened. nico is devastated and blames percy for her death. the few times percy and nico interact in the 4th book, their arc is entirely centered around nico accepting bianca's death and the fact that it wasn't percy's fault. in the final book they briefly team up at the beginning and make peace, and nico fights on the good side in the final battle. percy and annabeth have their first kiss in the 4th book and start dating at the end of the 5th (looooong situationship)

nico doesn't appear in the first book of the sequel series. he does briefly appear at the beginning of the second, and then leaves to go off on his own business. he is absent for basically all of the third book because he was trapped in a jar by a titan (long story). but percy and the others save him at the end. in the fourth nico is a main character for the first time. he's present for the whole story (while percy and annabeth are stuck in tartarus) and heavily involved. this is the book where we find out nico had feelings for percy. nico and another charcter, jason, are attacked by cupid and cupid forces nico to admit that he had a crush on percy, therefore admitting that he is gay, outing himself to jason. then in the fifth and final book, nico narrates about a quarter of the chapters so we get his more insight on his thoughts and feelings. he feels like a mistake for being gay and feels like he'll be alone forever. when he had a crush on percy he viewed him basically as a superhero. percy was an older, stronger, powerful demigod that protected him, and nico idolized him. but at this point in the story nico is essentially over it. near the end of the book, nico teams up with a guy his age named will solace. and there's a scene in nico's last pov chapter after the final battle is over where nico tells percy that he used to have a crush on him, but that he's over it and percy isn't really his type anyway (lmfao). and then nico walks over to will who had been waiting for him, obviously symbolizing him moving on from percy and choosing will. and in the trials of apollo series we find out that nico and will are dating. (solangelo my bookies<333)

how is this in ANY way shape or form similar to byler??

percy and nico do not have the depth and backstory that mike and will do. percy does not give nico a tearful monologue about how asking nico to be his friend when they were children is the best decision he's ever made. percy and nico do not agree to go crazy together. percy does not tell nico that home isn't the same without him. percy doesn't emphasize that they are just friends. nico isn't the one to push percy into confessing his love to annabeth. nico and percy don't spend every single book attached at the hip. percy doesn't choose to stand with nico instead of following annabeth when the world is ending. percy and nico barely bond at all. their relationship is complicated. they are borderline enemies in the 4th and 5th books (the hate is one sided, but nico has also yet to earn percy's trust), but they become allies and friends in the end.

percy and nico are a good example of a character's feelings for another solely being a tool to reveal their sexuality. byler would be an awful attempt at that. there is unnecessary depth and development. mike and will's bond is a plot point every single season, which would be pointless if they don't end up together. nico had a crush on percy. a crush. it is only every referred to as a crush. will is in love with mike. deeply, devastatingly in love, and always will be. percy was not the only person capable of making nico not feel like a mistake. nico never said he needs percy. nico never says that he's lost without percy.

IF I EVER HEAR P*RNICO EQUATED TO BYLER AGAIN I WILL DRINK BLEACH ON INSTAGRAM LIVE FOR EVERYONE TO SEE AND I MEAN IT. miss me with that bullshit

#byler #stranger things #will byers #mike wheeler #byler endgame #mike wheeler i know what you are #byler analysis #milkvan is bones #anti milkvan #pjo #percy jackson #nico di angelo #heroes of olympus #hoo #solangelo

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burning2know · 3 days ago

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I agree wholeheartedly with OP and these tags from prev. prefacing that I will be ignoring the game that shall not be named and probably repeating some points.

There's nothing quite like the interactive medium of a video game that makes you examine your own choices and beliefs. And when it comes to politics, there's often a disconnect between ideology and lived experience. My favorite thing about DA was always the fact the it tried to bridge the two. Whether it's showing that various individuals in similar circumstances can have completely different ideologies, or it can be to explore what happens to individuals and their experiences after reshaping the world according to the player's ideology. That bridge, albeit implicit, has been formative in the way I think about my own world. When it comes to the lore and world building, it demands the player to use critical thinking, much like a historian might, to make sense of it. And I did end up feeling like I needed to make sense of the world to make my choices.

Even though DA has argued both sides, it does it incredibly well. The arguments it presents come from character perspectives that makes sense in the universe, and it makes it all feel real. I think a lot of credit should go to origin's writers for providing those arguments. It feels like the writers talking amongst themselves trying to hash out what each action means for the world and to eachother using the NPCs, and in the spaces of these discussions, I get to reflect on where I agree and disagree and what that means for me as a player. The experience reminds me of me watching Contrapoints videos in which she has a conversation with various parts of her own beliefs about her gender identity, and engaging with her inner-discourse lead me to a deeper understanding of my own identity.

That's the true value of arguing both sides. It lets the audience decide for themselves without being prescriptive. And while it does demand the audience construct their own reasons and values to explain their choices, it also provides a window into possible viewpoints that the audience might or might not agree with. And not in a judgmental way. That process shows how one character may arrive there, not through insanity or stupidity, but through various circumstances and experiences.

DA's goal was always to challenge the player. That isn't to say that there's no bias, or a particular perspective that the writers are coming from. But the point is that it opens a space for exploration. It takes a certain kind of person to be able to do that without falling into the hole of appearing contrarian or troll-ish. And to some extent the writers themselves had to treat each argument with equal respect and legitimacy to display its outcomes in the game according to the rules of the world rather than their own ideals. And that itself is not easy. It doesn't surprise me that that world view and capacity disappears when the series changed hands.

And underlying all of that is a philosophy about how individuals operate, and how they operate when they come together into groups of individuals (many different words to say power and hierarchy). And that underlying philosophy is what resonated with me so much with over time. It's very compassionate to be able to hold space for these other perspectives. Not only rare to see due to the complexity required to show it, but easy to lose and difficult to gain back once you've lost it. And at this moment in the history of DA, we have lost it.

In some ways, I think the timing of this happening Makes Sense. We live in a tumultuous time where reality is uncertain and volatile due to the nature of new modes of information exchange. We see all kinds of people sharing things on social media that could easily be interpreted as lived experience or disinformation. And more than ever, our shared reality is being shattered into a million pieces by personalized content. (I too have felt the "we live in parallel universes" thought creeping up on me). In this chaotic environment, we Need the psychological comfort of certainty, of knowing what the world is like. The easiest and most familiar way is to find an authoritative voice and trust that single voice as the guiding star. That voice is only strengthened by others' agreement, and we contribute to this strengthening with our own psychological needs for certainty and stability. And we become resistant to dissent and critical analysis, because the amount of information to sort through gets very overwhelming very quickly.

What DA does has always been the opposite of that, it demands the player to confront multiple perspectives (albeit in a much more curated and coherent way). And it is logical to me that the game goes against such a primary psychological need in these trying times, perhaps now more than ever. But this theme has always gone against the grain, and media that goes against the grain in this way is so rare and So Badly Needed. We Need people to be able to think through and cobsider multiple perspectives, because there are so many perspectives accessible to us. At the same time I understand the draw of never ever having to do that. And I also understand that a lot of people just don't think that deeply ever. And that's why losing DA hits extra hard for me. Because it is another piece of resistance swept away with the torrent of greater trends that push us away from shared understanding with the people around us.

i feel like all of my pondering and analyzing and criticizing veilguard over the past few months has actually truly given me a better understanding of what dragon age meant to me, what about it specifically was so meaningful, and why, as a result, veilguard felt so wrong. it took a while for me to figure it out. about three full months of relentless essay writing, actually. but i think if you had asked me a few years ago what the core of my love for dragon age was, whatever answer i gave would not have truly gotten to the root of it, because i think i had to experience the disappointment of veilguard to fully understand why i love dragon age. and ive realized that core is that i loved how the previous dragon age entries demand so much of the player, and deliberately prompt introspection and critical, often political, thought.

dragon age games have historically forced the player to be self-reflective and introspective about their worldview and beliefs. solas is obviously a fantastic example, as he was deliberately written to be a reflection of the player in order to prompt them to reflect on how they treat people, how our expectations of people influence their behavior, and how people are pushed to extremes and turned into monsters or saved by love and kindness. how do people become monsters? what drives them to blow up buildings or start rebellions or destroy the world as you know it? are they right or wrong? does it even matter? how did you contribute to this? are you innocent? it puts these insane, politically and morally charged situations in your face and forces you to confront them. slavery, a refugee crisis, poverty, class disparities, racism, foreign occupation, the list goes on, and you are not given the option to look away or be a bystander. you have to ACT. you have to choose, you have to make judgements, you have to take responsibility and explore your role in this world as someone with the capacity to act upon it, to make your will a reality, to fail, to make mistakes. i honestly can't think of any other video game that does this to the same extent? nor any media at all because the act of being IN the world as one of it's people through the act of role-playing is essential to how it provokes this experience in the player. its ballsy. they deliberately try to make you uncomfortable. these games are full of liars, deceivers, betrayers. the games themselves lie to you. its character try to deceive you. did you catch it? or were you fooled? what else might you be fooled by? who else might be lying to you? in the game? in real life? and then you get to play it again knowing the end, and what the game prompts changes with your new knowledge. now it asks, do you forgive them? what makes someone worthy of forgiveness? where do you draw the line? what do you think?

i dont think i realized until recently how impactful this was for me considering how i first got into dragon age at 16 years old. i dont think i had experienced anything up to that point that would put a situation like judging a war criminal who ordered the deaths of children or another war criminal who just left me to die and orchestrated a near-coup or a traumatized terrorist who just blew up a church right in my face, and said MAKE A DECISION. and i didnt know it at the time, but looking back i can see how valuable it was for me at that age to have what was effectively an avenue of exploration and self-expression of all of these moral and political issues that i was grappling with as a young adult. i played inquisition for the first time just months before i voted in my first presidential primary. i already had a political consciousness at this point, but it was nonetheless new and vulnerable and still blossoming into something more concrete. inquisition, then, almost provided a sort of political, moral and personal sandbox for me from ages 16-20 to better help me understand myself in relation to the world. the RPG-ness allowed me to put myself into these situations - like the mage-templar war and its metaphor for mass incarceration and police brutality - while i was also simultaneously grappling with and trying to understand these issues in real life. having dragon age to help me further unpack my own beliefs and conception of these issues was undeniably impactful. it provided a space, through a narrative i enjoyed and cared about, to make choices and judgement calls and better understand who i was, and what felt right to me. it asked, "what do you think?"

veilguard lacks this. completely. and lets be clear that the previous games did not always do a perfect job. many of these depictions are messy and harmful and problematic, but they at least, by extension of their own existence in a narrative that forces you to THINK and JUDGE and DECIDE, give me the space and opportunity to judge them as messy, as problematic, as harmful. i can confidently say that i think da2 is too sympathetic to the templars as an organization because the fact that da2 presents me with so many narrative conflicts regarding the templar organization allows me to not just make in-game decisions and play as a staunch advocate for mage freedom and circle abolition, but to form opinions on the game itself by extension. i can confidently say that i believe the qunari's portrayal is islamophobic because the game has prompted me so many times; what do i think about the qunari? what do i think about the oppression of the elves? what do i think about dorian being a seemingly good person but defending the practice of slavery? who should rule orzammar; the progressive asshole or the conservative traditionalist? do i forgive loghain? do i forgive anders? do i forgive solas? this in-world critical thinking about issues in thedas leads to meta critical thinking. further questions naturally follow -> what message did the writers intend to send through anders? how can i notice the echoes of how this story came into fruition in the shadow of 9/11? what do solas's endings tell me about the writers view of retributive punishment? how is bioware's portrayal of the dalish, as inspired by indigenous north americans, reflective of deep-seated anti-indigenous canadian sentiment? why did the writers stop prompting these hard questions at all in veilguard? did they only like it when it was about characters, not when it led to critical thinking about them and the company as a whole? through these processes of in-world interrogation, i am inevitably invited to analyze the effectiveness of their narrative portrayals and the writing itself. perhaps this is why dragon age is so famous for its discourse lol.

ive said before that im not sure that veilguard could ever have been as impactful for me as the previous games, partly because when you are 16 everything is more impactful because your brain is an eager sponge, unless it did something that really resonated with me as an adult. but what it should have been, at the very least, is something that could have been as impactful and formative on a current 16 year old that sees a gif on tumblr and decides to check out the game, as inquisition was to me 10 years ago. and im sure there are teenagers and younger adults out there playing this game and loving it and loving the characters and the world and thinking its great, good fun. thats great. however it fundamentally cannot have the same profound, developmentally catalytic experience it had on me because it simply does not challenge the player. it does not prompt them to question their own beliefs and the power structures within their lives. it does not prompt them to reflect on the political narratives they may have been fed all their lives. it does not confront them with the sorts of topics that get books on banned lists in florida and force them to bear witness, to think deeper, to feel guilt or horror at the outcome of your own poorly-made decision, to make moral judgements, to make mistakes, and to live with the consequences.

i think i now understand why veilguard was so disappointing to me and ultimately would be a failure in my eyes no matter if i enjoyed the combat or the exploration or whatever other shiny coat of paint sits atop it. veilguard does not ask much of you. it does not prompt any sort of introspection or interrogation of your presently held beliefs. it does not demand anything from the player except to dodge at the right moment. this is a fundamental, core departure from what made me fall in love with dragon age in the first place. if you love dragon age because you want "fantasy escapism" and fun characters to smooch, then i am happy for you. but i would remind you that can find fantasy escapism all over the steam library - farming sims, cozy games, a witch looking for her cat in the alps, etc. what you cannot find are games that are willing and brave enough to challenge and provoke the player into a better, more thorough understanding of themselves in relation to our world and it's many, complex and daunting political and moral issues. to have lost such a thing, when media like this has become so few and far between, and during a time when we need it more than ever, is a devastating loss.

#i know i am just saying a bunch of unsupported vague stuff #but we can't all write scholarly masterpieces

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sucker4beam · 14 hours ago

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Denji's character development.

A little analysis/my take on how Denji is progressing.

So, i know alot of people are annoyed at Denji for not developing and falling back into his old habits, so I wanna discuss this and how I view it.

Denji has primary motivations, those being a happy life, loved ones, and sex. In recent chapters, including the newest one, we see Denji grapple with his priorities of choosing between his loved ones and sex. I feel part of this is the fact he IS a teenage devil. As much as he is human, he is also a devil.

When he loses his newfound family, that being Nayuta and the animals, he also loses his home as well. This would be the fourth time in his life this has happened (his parents, Pochita, Aki and Power, Nayuta and his pets). Denji is at a point where he feels he has no reason to continue living, and wants to attempt enjoying whatever he can before he dies.

In chapter 193, Denji is presented and incredibly familiar idea. Kill the death devil and have sex with Yoru, or fail and be turned into a weapon by Yoru. This is incredibly similar to Makima's offer with killing the gun devil. So why does Denji fold and take this offer?

Part 2 has shown Denji's struggles with grief and trauma, which we have to remember, all happened just a few months prior. He has not had the time to grow and move on from it, and he has no figures to guide him either. Denji is the only person he can rely on. So, after losing everything most important to him, he is ready to accept whatever comes his way.

Denji takes up Yoru's offer because he does not care one way or another. He has accepted that she wants to kill him, and has accepted that he could possibly live while achieving one of his last remaining goals.

Denji doesn't mind either outcome because what he truly needs is a close connection with others. He has almost no connections with others at this point, and none of the ones he currently has are nearly on par with what he had with his prior loved ones. He doesn't care if he lives or dies, as long as he has fun, because he feels like his life had no importance without a deep connection with someone else.

He lacks priority with Nayuta because, while he loves her, she cannot fill the hole inside him left by those he loved at Public Safety. He prioritizes Power over his trip with Makima because at that time, this hole was incredibly minimum.

That is why he continues to fumble and aim for sex, because he feels he has nobody. He is chasing something to fill the pit inside him, which will inevitably fail to do so.

So yes, while it is frustrating to watch Denji make these choices, we have to remember what he is and where he comes from.

#idk if this makes sense #chainsaw man #csm #csm fandom #csm denji #power csm #aki csm #nayuta #csm anime #pochita csm #pochita

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fluffyfeatherfun · 2 days ago

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Dinosaurs can laugh! (Antoher Dandy's World Tickle Fic

Made another one speciallt for the requester to fuel their Lee!Shelly needs

Requested by: @mosaichunter (I ALSMOST PING THE WRONG PERSON)

Lee:Shelly

Ler:Vee (Yup, again!)

Starring:None, just two of them!

Word Count:1,585

Warning:This is a tickle fic, again. If you don't really like those kind of stuff, scroll pass

Bits of angst. Just a bit at the beginning but it'll tone down

((brackets like these are creator's notes in the fic))

Extra note:While this is technically connected to the previous fic , you don't need to read it in order to understand this fic.

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

Shelly can hear the roaring cheer outside. She can feel the plastic texture of her dino toys. She can feel the cold stone floor beneath her. She can feel the scars on her heart. It hurts to know that the crowd outside dosen't even know her name. It hurts to know that the love she gets is just as little as the attention the kids pay when she talks about her dinosaur facts. It hurts that there are only a few toons who are aware of her problems. It hurts....

Until her thoguhts were cut short when she heard a creek from the woodeen door, follow by a familiar looking TV host((totally not because we just saw her last chapther)),follow by a powerful slam.

"Oh, your done already?"

Vee held a grudge from the loud blasting crowd behind, turning to Shelly and nodding with one foot on the door.

"Wish it was even earlier. Being a host is quite stressful sometimes. Now, what did yoy want to talk about when we were at the hallways? "

The ammonite's face switch to that of a teary looking one, darting down on the ground and not muttering a word until the TV head host broke the silence.

"Was it because you are being ignored again?"

"Wh-No! I promise this one is different." She waves her hands around in denial.

"Really? Tell me more about it." She respond, as she took a seat beside her.

It was hard for Shelly to make eye contact with how hard is it to word this new worry, but she still did her best to keep the point straight:

"I've been thinking a lot about..... Changing what's mainly about me.... To be more specific, my liking for dinosaurs. I tried a lot of things:baking, sewing, roleplay, even game hosting with the toons, but it's either I..... Don't enjoy it as much or I'm not as good at it.... Mostly the first point... "

She fiddles her fingers around, as tiny drops of tears fell on the floor. Vee can clearly she how desperate she is for just a little love, for just a little attention, for just a little recognition, so she pat her on the back to soothe her aching heart a bit and gives a pep talk:

"Hey there, dino girl, look at me."

"Hmm?"

"I know that dinosaurs aren't the most popular among the kids, but that dosen't mean it can't be interesting. There are so many fun ways to express it out, but that dosen't exactly mean your way isn't good. You know what they say:" Sometimes it takes time to find the right audience." etc etc.... "

She widens her eyes a bit, feeling a bit better with Vee's ramble (Or pep talk again I'M NOT REALLY GOOD WITH WORDS), as she countinues to listen to her:

"And besides, fame isn't everything. Sure, it seems like the greatest gift when you have lots of it, but when it dies down, what now? Barely anyone knows you, there is some new kind of thing that's all the rage, and worst of all, you know what was it like to be loved. Not to mention busy schedules and having little to no privacy. Seriously, I can't even remember the last time I had a nice and normal chat with Teagen. "

She quietly opens her shuttle, looking at the old, janky wries for a short moment in a bit of quivering sadness, before closing it and turning back to Shelly, who was just nodding her head this entire time.

It was quite the akward stare, to say the least, just for her to process everything Vee said and wipe her tiny tears.

Suddenly, a little idea spark in the television's CPU. Without scaring her too much, she taps on her fat dino finger(okay she dosen't really have those but cmon, think about it) to get her attention and spoke:

"Hey, I can prove that your dino knowlage does have some use."

Of coruse, you can't just say that to some person your trying to comfort and expe t them to understand. The ammonite's head tilts like a confused dog, before responding with a few studders:

"Wh-wh-what?"

Wagging her mic tail nervously, she scrathes the back of her antenna and replies back:

"Uhmmmm, how do I say this....... Could I........ Dust off your ribs?" (A luttle silly secret word of 'Can I tickle'. Aka the creator forgot the the term for secret word so her worsing is super off AHHH)

Her eyes light up in excitement as her dino tail wags rapid and her hands wave, turning around and fully exposing the area.

"Of course you can! I'm still not sure how that relates to what you said earlier, buttt I'll go with the flow."

With a smile on her face, Vee retracts her cold, metal fingers to give them little fur tips, before extending her arms to grab Shelly by the shoulders and wraps her mic wire tail around her body.

((Alright IK there might be too much creator notes, but this is important, I promise. I honestly don't think I can contently write both Shelly and Vee's names for this psrt since it rapidly switches the focus, so you, the reader will need to keep track of that. If you are reading this thank you :)))

Without warning, she felt a few of her top rib bones getting attacked by the fingers. That combined with the fact it's near her underarms, another vunerable spot, makes her burst of of laugther and flail her arms around helplessly. To say that she didn't expect her to immediately aim for it would be an understatement.

"VHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE, THAHAHAHTHAHHA WAHHAHAHAHA, GAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHA."

As if that wasen't enough, the host positions her mic right in front of her mouth to amplify her laugther thoguh her speakers.

"You know, after what's possibly the longest gameshow, I could really use a bit of relaxing music to calm my wires down from the win of the other craft. Now, tell me, my deae ammonite, what's an interesting fact about dinosaurs and your sweet melt spot?"

Her blush was quickly forming on her face, especially with that little comment on her ribs. Regardless of how much tickles she is tanking, hiwever, she is still able to roll out one.

"AHAHAHA THEHEHEREHEHEHX HAHAHAHAS AHAHA SEHEHEHEHCHOHOHOHND SHEHEHEHEHET OHOHHOHOFHO RHIHIHIBS CHAHAHAHALLHEHED GASHHEHEHESTHAHAHAHLHIHIHIAS."

"Hmmmm, impressive! Perhaps you wouldn't mind naming me a flying dinosaur that flaps like your arms?"

"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA ARHAHAHACHAHEHEHOHPTHEHERHEHEYHEHX DHOHOHOHEHEHS."

"Not sure how your able to say such a long name when your mind is as tangled as your body under my tickles, but I'll guve you credit for that. Perhaps we will need to increase the difficulty a bit more."

Giving her palms fluffy pads, she moves the the bridge of the sides and the belly, letting the it and the fingers work together around that area. This sudden increase of ticklish feeling jolts her body around and fills the room with even more of her laugthers.

"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, NHOHOHOHOHOHOHT THEHEHEHEHEHERHEHEHEHE VHEHEHEHEHEHE. THAHAHAHAHAHAHAHTHEHAHTS MHIHIHIHY MHEHEHEHEHEHEHELT SPHOHOHOHOHHOHOT."

"Everywhere is a melt spot for you, silly. Say, what kind of dinosaur has the largest stomach and how much it can eat?"

"AHAHA BRHAHAHANCHIHIHOSHAHARHUHS CHAHAHAN EHAHAHAT FOHOHOHOHUR HUHUHUUHUHNDRHEHEHED THOHOHO NIHIHIHIHNE HUHUHUHNDHRHEHEHED PHOHOHOHHOUNDS OHOHOHOHOF LEHAHHEHAHEHAHAHFY GRHEHEHEHEHENS AHAHA DHAHAHAY."

"Wonderful, really, wonderful! Last question before I let you go:Can dinosaurs laugh?"

"WHAHAHAHAHAIT, WHAHAHAHAT?"

"Can a dinosaur laugh just as loud as you? Hmm"

She repeats, as her fingers got closer to the center of her stomach.

"IHIHIHHIHT DHOHOHOHNT HAHAHAHAHAVE THEHEHEHEHE ANHAHAHANSWHEHEER THOHOHOHO THAHAHAHAT!"

"I'm just joking, silly, I don't know the answer to that either."

See her nearly cracking up to a little mess, she suddenly retracts the fluffy pads awaywhile still holding her body. Shelly babbled around like an idiot for a minite or two before she realized that the tickling stop. Feeling relieved, she takes her time to catch her breath and wipe of all the sweat on her head(don't ask me how is Vee not affected by that). She wags her tail playfully around Vee's stomatch, not fliching her by even a bit. Before long, her lungs had ctahc enough air for her to verbalize some words:

"Hey, Vee, thanks alot..... Huff.... For the tickles...... I've been craving some since this morning....."

"Haha, no problem! Look, I do want to apologize for not really spending time with you these past few days. I've got a lot of events to headline, including my own gameshow."

"Yeah, I understand,.... Haha..... Say, how exactly did you prove my dino knowlage...... Was worth something.......? "

"Don't you see it, Shelly? You could just pop one out even under such laughter as if it was nothing! That dosen't just take knowlage, but also some fighting energy and lung capacity! I'm telling you, you're a real fighter for this. "

"Oh!..... Well that's new..... Maybe that explains why I accidentally crack Tisha's.... Knuckles a bit too hard yesterday....."

"..... You what now?"

"..... Yeah.... I may or may not have.... Broke her arm?"

"..... I'm not even going to question that. Anyways, my next gameshow could use snother contestant. Wanna join?"

"Your kidding?..... Of coruse I would!"

"Alright alright, I'll register your name later. Come on, let's get some soft tacos."

"But you can't eat food, can you?"

"A robot can dream, Shelly, a robot can dream."

And so, the TV host picked up the ammonite by the hand and took the other exit back to the toon rooms, leaving the aftershow on a sweet note.

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

Thank you so much for your patience! Speaking honestly, I wish I could get thus done earlier, but hey, better late than never!

Let's thank Google for giving me some dino facts to incoperate into this fic, and thank my will to tease the requester the motivation to finush this fic! /silly

Have aa good day mate! And proud to say I enjoyed this fic alot more!

#fluffy feather posts #dandy’s world tickles #fluffy feather writes

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punkeropercyjackson · 2 days ago

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Percy Jackson is transfem✊🏼✊🏼✊🏼✊🏼✊🏼✊🏼The Titan's Curse was an egg metaphor,not her 'owning positive masculinity'.Her and Luke and the gods represent transfems and the cisheteropatriarchy and her autistic punk tgirl swag is what allows her to break cycles as often and as hard as she does.Nico and Percy were the og trans found siblings and Hazel is trans too and their third,NOT Jason.Percy is bisexual the same way bi femme women with complex feelings on men from trauma are and has better taste and standards on what men she's attracted than normies do.She's near universally mischaracterized by the fandom who lies about hating anything not in the books as either well-intentioned but stupid and way less cool than she actually is and much less abused than she actually was or a pathologically violent male power fantasy,both being completely contradicted by her behavior and things she's explicitly expressed she dosen't want to be yet is assumed to be true to her because she's amab and these people also like her better as a f*mboy.No fakes,no aus,just facts

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worstgenerationloser · 2 days ago

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,, Original sin. ''

Summary... Once a human woman turned into a vampire by Dracule Mihawk, your anger towards him turned you into a raging tyrant. With your reign abruptly ended by a stab in the back, you barely manage to crawl to the catacombs and into your coffin. You wake up remembering all, and you seek out sustenance... which, is blood.

Impending bite... Nico Robin.

Word count... 5.6k

Fic Masterlist... click here!

A/N: comments and reblogs are appreciated the very most! tell me which part was the best, or what you're looking forward to in the story! YOU MIGHT BE DISSAPOINTED ROBIN IS FIRST UP but me personally? im from scissor city.

One step after another, your feet guided you slowly throughout the halls in a calculated waltz. Living in a recently established castle surrounded by nothing but lake and the sea of bones of past victims, you came to realize the fog outdoors was normal, as were the bumbling acolytes dancing throughout the halls in a rush to wherever it is they go, stopping to bow politely for you.

Everything under the blood-soaked moon was yours. Eternal life, devout followers, an endless supply of blood in the nearby empire, and most important of all is the fact you wiped out that pesky family of vampire hunters. Once a newly deceased woman, you sobbed and wallowed in misery at the realization that even though you lived on, it was as one of the undead; Then the sorrow was replaced by the thrill of power. You must’ve gained a god complex, though at the time that wasn’t exactly terrible, all constantly failed to surprise you, and it kept your mind at ease knowing you were in no danger whatsoever.

Mistress of the dark, that you were, a cruel one you may have been, but you were unmatched by all. Once again, you were entirely superior. It was out of the goodness in your heart that you shared a glimpse of a long and luxurious life with those who were known as your acolytes and for that, they sent you offerings, they hunted your prey themselves because the poor things absolutely couldn’t handle a sad, short, pathetic human life. Ah, you seem to have reminisced quite a bit about yourself. No need for embarrassment, the peak of what was once a human is you after all, that does give you the right to brag. But you suppose you aren’t a human at this point in time, you are beyond what one’s fragile mind can understand about the unknown and the supernatural.

“My beloved mistress, am I worthy of a speck of your time today?” A formal and feminine voice spoke, you registered Ophelia as the woman choosing to converse with you. Time was of the essence in your day, for the night is never eternal, and you were making sure to reiterate those words to her as well.

“It is of the essence, so foolishly standing around awaiting one’s answer will be for naught. Speak, girl.” You spoke with a tone as commanding and biting as ever, the same used towards even the most noble of people, you condescend her entire being with a few words and only the choice to simply endure it was presented to her. It wasn't your fault she was so insignificant, despite being blessed enough to join your council of advisors.

Safe to say, it’s evident you had a very backwards way of thinking. It was as if you were the only true one in the world at the time, and that thought alone allowed you to think it right to do whatever to whomever. Maybe it was something hiding within you that prompted you to think in such a way… It had been so long, however, that you had nearly forgotten the fangs which had sunken into your neck, the cold hands that gripped your body, the burning sensation which coursed through your veins and stopped your beating human heart, the humanity slipping away while something more sinister took place. There was new blood in your veins— and it was his.

Those yellow eyes that never seemed to miss a single thing, like a hawk. The man who made you turn.

Dracule Mihawk.

Though your dead body is already cold as ice, you can’t help but feel a chill run throughout your body as you remember that man. Here you lie, tucked away in your coffin deep underground your castle, residual anger taking place in your mind and forcing you to awaken. All that is visible is the underside of the cushioned lid placed atop you, and though you feel weaker now than you were as a human all those years ago, you push it off, flinching at the noise of it clanging against the floor after many years of complete silence.

Slowly rising, it was as if you were learning how to walk again, your thighs shook while your knees wished to give out on you, and your arms were shaky while you tried your best to sit upwards. A primal hunger was present in your entire being, and the bats flying about certainly wouldn’t do, as you know, blood tastes best the larger and more sentient ones victim is.

“Ah, these statues must be a thousand years old at the very least! What a wonderful find.”

A voice echoes through the dusty walls and hallways which confined you, the clacking of shoes against the stone floors coming closer. You are weak, you need to eat something, and it looks like whoever this young woman is will have to do. Silencing your soft grunts, you dragged your bare feet against the floor, dust and dirt being kicked up and flung about into the air. Would you be able to pull off spontaneous feeding in a weakened state like so? Again, it’s not like you have a choice. She’s closer, you can hear her exasperated breathing.

“Everything’s in such perfect condition… What a find.” You hear the woman chuckle. Maybe you should make the first move.

“Hello? W–Who’s there?” Barely managing a stutter, your voice sounds a bit worried and panicked, just enough to convince anyone clueless and naive enough that it's genuine. Considering the way she was appraising your decorations, you’ve concluded quite a bit of time has passed, and she must have a knack for identifying things of old and exploring– either both or one or the other. The sounds of walking stills, before continuing, a bit more hesitant. A hum reverberates throughout the room, light approaching at the same pace and there she is. A raven-haired beauty, one with eyes of ocean blue and a long slender nose, paired with a silver dagger. Fuck. If you were to try and pounce on her, she has the upper hand, you really can’t do anything in such a state, so you only have one more card to play, innocent and lost.

“May I ask who you are, miss? It’s odd to encounter someone in century-old ruins.” Her eyes are narrowed, and she’s clearly suspicious of you. Her grip on the dagger is evidently growing tighter.

“I apologize, I’m from a rural area… Eh, I seem to have gotten lost exploring and… Well, it’s really embarrassing for me to admit, and I’ve been underground here for a bit.” Without rambling on and omitting too much, you seem to have put the woman’s mind at ease if just a bit. You take in the little information you gained– century old ruins are what she called your hidden chambers, normally you would have taken offense but you are a changed woman now. Does this count as a second re-awakening?

“You will be reawakened wholly…” The memory of that man’s words echo through your head, making you swallow harshly. It’s frightening all over again. Nope, absolutely no second re-awakening.

“I see… Do you also have an interest in archaeology and history? I came to consider the legend of the last vampire, oddly enough all history of such a person seems to have decayed, besides this castle… Someone covered it up, for sure, but I can’t seem to figure out why… Perhaps another vampire? An accomplice, but a vampire specifically working with another seems most likely. There were a few scriptures scattered and—” The woman keeps talking for a while, and it makes you even less interested in yourself, at one point you seem to tune it out. But, you watch as she hides her dagger away in its sheath, her hand still holding onto the handle.

She clears her throat, snapping you out of your trance.

“I’m Nico Robin, an archaeologist. You are?” Robin finally formally introduces herself, seeming a bit more friendly and under the impression that you actually listened to her theories and minute long rant. Actually, you managed to listen to about half of it, so all's well that ends well– this has yet to end though. One last look at the scattered bones across the dusted cobblestone floor and you speak up again, finally introducing yourself.

“Ah, that's quite a unique name. So, would you like some shoes?” For a moment you choke and sputter, looking down at your bare feet. You haven’t been embarrassed in centuries, and the feeling is entirely unwelcome. She’s probably super suspicious of you now, and if not then she’s really pitying you.

“Yes, please. My feet are sore from walking aimlessly.” You joke softly, laughing humorlessly while her face stays blank. After setting down her oil lamp, Robin takes off the backpack slung around one of her shoulders, rummaging around and pulling out a pair of black leather boots, placing them into your hands. You drop them to the floor, trying your best to clear your cold feet from dirt and grime, before haphazardly slipping them on. There's strings attached to them, and they are loose around your ankles, it seems like a stupid design and it makes you wonder what other useless inventions were made.

“Do you not know how to tie your laces, miss?” Laces? What on earth was she talking about? The boots were made of leather, and there wasn't even a single clipping of lace adorning them. Is this some modern day slang the young women use?

“Uh… I guess not. I am barefoot more often than not.” Your voice is a murmur, it isn't entirely a lie, but you are much more used to shoes without these… stringy contraptions strewn across their surface. Maybe you made yourself look suspicious by not knowing how to “tie your laces” but if this is fashion these days, maybe it's not so bad if you’re eternally slain by her.

“Allow me, then. You seem sickly, I think maybe I should show you the way out.”

She drops to her knees before you, it reminds you of when you received voluntary blood offerings… Blood. You will only get weaker from here on out if you don't feed soon, and this Robin woman seems to be a good candidate, all you need to do is win her over and earn her trust, disarm her and feed off of her… but she has shown you a bit of kindness, so it wouldn't do too much harm to loosen up a bit. But you can't allow yourself to rely on someone so much again, remembering Ophelia's actions was disheartening— you can't allow yourself to be fooled once more by somebody else, much less a pathetic excuse of a human as she was. And you can't let what happened with that man repeat.

Maybe you should forget about Mihawk for a second considering that just mentioning his name to yourself alone makes you feel as if he's already watching you. A cold hand comes to accidentally touch near the bottom of your calf, and time seems to still for a second. Are you…? No, this just cannot be. It’s pathetic, but you seem to feel a bit tingly against the touch of another. Exactly how far has oneself fallen? From making people crumble from the scrape of your fangs against their veins, to crumbling against a cold and accidental touch. Embarrassment takes over once again, and your lungs start to withhold air from you in an attempt to take your mind off of it. Robin is still tying your “laces” , which you can easily assume are the strings attached to the pair of leather boots she has given you. The foolish observation from earlier is still fresh in your mind. How utterly embarrassing for someone of your caliber.

“I’ve finished tying them. Now, would you like some help getting out? You mentioned that you have been down under for quite some time. I know the way out, but we will have to go through the castle to get aboveground. I assume you’ve entered from the underground tunnels in the forest, but the moon has risen… best to steer clear of there. I’m sure you know why.”

It’s definitely not thrilling hearing someone explain to you how to get out of the catacombs you asked to be implemented under your own castle, but you know you should try not to arouse suspicions too early into your first meeting with a scholar— specifically this one. She came armed to a vampire's castle with a dagger of silver, a known weakness of your kind.

“The wolves.” You nod, trying to hide the scowl peeking onto your face. Werewolves, the scum of the earth. Though, you would argue that you hate Emperor Romanov from your time the most. It's hypocrisy at its finest coming from you, but you hate people who try to stand above all else and crumble whomever beneath their soles. Maybe Ophelia knocked some sense into you when she drove that fine elven blade of silver into your heart, or maybe you have always known you were a bit of a tyrant.

“Let's go, then.” Robin spoke, prompting you to join her, you can't help but notice the appeal in her smile, the way she struts about with utmost confidence, the dip in her back, the curve of her hips, the smirk on her lips— though, you, of course, would never ogle a woman in such a manner. It's just that it's been a while since you've been awake, and she's easy on the eyes, why on earth would you think like a man? She bends down to pick up the oil lamp she brought with her, and your eyes are still drawn to her.

It's simply your appetite talking, of course. You two head down throughout the dusty and spider infested halls, the clacking of both of your shoes is a tad bothersome.

“Miss Y/N. How did you come to know of this place?” Robin begins to question, her tone non-accusatory. She looks back at you with a curious look, in fact.

“I’ve always been fascinated by the supernatural… And I get a thrill out of exploring. I scout out places occasionally, and I sometimes find small artifacts.”

Ah yes, building onto your small storyline once more, would this classify as roleplay? Softening your voice, you reach into your pocket— if you can begin to have her let her guard down by showing a bit of “proof” you are in fact an explorer, then it would likely make it easier to feed off of her. It wasn't like you could avoid her anyways, if she knew you were a vampire, she could do a lot worse than be horrified. You pull out an old stopwatch of yours, a century or two old, that makes it around two to three centuries old in total. Surely if this woman truly has an eye for antiques, she would appreciate such an item.

“I found this on my way in. It's certainly splendid.” You put on a smile, walking a bit faster to catch up, holding out the stopwatch in the palm of your hand. Robin pauses and gasps as her eyes widen, her hand comes to brush against yours, her manicured fingers are cold as she takes the watch from your hands.

Suspended in the air by its chain, the dim source of light gleams off of the metallic surface, and it makes you just a little uneasy looking at the watch. It’s like there is something buried deep inside your psyche that just refuses to come back despite the fact that you have impeccable memory, almost as if your body knows you aren’t ready. The watch was yours, but you can’t seem to recall who gave it to you…

“Does the air here seem a tad thick to you, as well? We should hurry. There’s no full moon, but dangers persist no matter what. The walls could cave in on us, and we would end up being nothing more than splatters of red.”

Robin comments, placing the stopwatch back into your hand. She’s more odd than you initially thought, but individuality is part of being human. A chill same as before wraps itself over your spine and almost causes you to gasp aloud. You feel anxious, and for a second you swear you feel the same eyes boring into the back of your head.

“Of course.”

Exhaling , you glance behind you, gripping the watch as if it were your lifeline. You're frightened, so you walk side by side with Robin again.

“These boots are rather comfy, Miss Robin.” You clear your throat, making small talk. It does calm you a bit, maybe it's the paranoia from being alone all those years in a coffin. Why did you ever sleep in one anyways?

“Aren't they? A friend lent them to me, she's quite the fashionista.” She chuckles, reaching the now well-worn staircase that leads to the hidden door which you entered many years ago. It’s bittersweet, seeing the stains of old blood and splints of bone while simultaneously taking in the castle which gave you comfort. Things are sure to have changed quite a bit, and in order to get your steady food source replenished, you would have to be in a position of power yet again. Such a thing wouldn't be too easily achievable, considering you underwent some sort of spiritual awakening while slumbering.

The you which the world knew saw you as a bloodthirsty deity who would give humans a few extra years of health and life for a bath of blood. That does sum you up, actually, but now you feel your existence is more than to just feed and slaughter. New feelings, sensations, and coherent thoughts are filling your stained soul with curiosity, the question is not what is the cause but why is the cause.

You confuse yourself a bit. You spent the entire journey back up spacing out, unsure if you even made conversation; you can't really be bothered by anything more than your own internal conflicts and hunger. Immediately you begin to notice the crickets make a cacophony of noise, the crashing of waves and distant howling is all too familiar. One more glance at the familiar surroundings before you leave for an uncertain amount of time, maybe returning eventually, and maybe not. An eardrum piercing howl cuts through the air, and Robin unsheathes her dagger cautiously, stalling for a moment as she hooks her lantern on the loop of her belt before grabbing your hand, gently tugging you along with her.

“Do you have somewhere to stay tonight? I’m planning to check into a nearby inn, but I’m concerned about you most of all. It’s no good escorting you if I am to hear that you are deceased by the next day. It could just be the goodwill of the senior adventurers spreading through me… It’s out of character for me, but nobody quite takes an interest in history much anymore, so I suppose I just want you to live long enough for us to be acquainted.” Robin’s eyes watch the woods for a minute, before they momentarily glance over to you, awaiting an answer.

You don’t have any choice but to stay with her– how could you survive without her, either way? The thing you need most is her blood, but her comment about the “senior adventurers” piques your curiosity, and you certainly are tempted to ask a question or two.

“I don’t have somewhere to stay– not anywhere nearby, at least. And, er… I’m certainly… Thrilled, that you would like to get to know me. Many don’t have such an appreciation of the past, normally. It’s a relief meeting a woman like yourself.” Clearing your throat, you walk up beside her, and she gives you a soft smile and a nod, signaling she’s ready to go. She’s doing her best to stay vigilant despite showing clear signs of exhaustion, and you can’t help but admire her, in ways more than one.

“Apologies if I may come off as presumptuous, but would it be okay with you if the both of us were to check in at the inn together? I can escort you wherever it is you live tomorrow, but we need to make it through this night safely first and foremost. Nami would certainly be upset if her boots were to be torn to shreds.”

A rustling is heard nearby, and you feel a bit upset at the fact you no longer have people willingly disregarding their lives to check for danger. You suppose this woman armed with a dagger of silver would do just fine, as well— Wait, no. You scowl when you find yourself thinking the exact same way you have in the past, it’s what got you killed and you surely aren’t looking forward to yet another “reawakening” anytime soon.

“I have no qualms about that, Miss Robin. You’re a sweet woman.”

You sigh, watching Robin’s tense posture loosen up when a rabbit comes running out of the bushes into the open— it stops in front of you for a second, looking up at you with round eyes you can see just fine in the dark, but Robin douses the scene in light, attempting to help you see better. You can smell the fear resonating in the small creature's body as soon as it sprouts up, some say animals can see far deeper than just the surface level of oneself, even into a soul. You think it's nonsense. It scrambles away, and the sound of the small pounding heart becomes nothing more than a whisper into the night.

“Let’s make haste, then. I’m beginning to get a bit jumpy.” Robin speaks as if the trees are actively listening, shuddering just as audibly as it is visible. The air is cooler with each step the two of you take, and you just can’t break out of the silence, because it feels wrong.

You feel those eyes boring into the back of your head every step of the way. Each time you turn around to only be greeted by an owl with eyes just the same as his, and you fear this time you may lose your mind. There’s a lot you are curious about— but you are more so confused on why he is stalking you all of a sudden after forgetting about you for centuries, leaving you high and dry with nothing else to do other than wait around and take your anger out on people by stealing their lives away, you can’t recall the entirety of your humanity but you’re sure that he took it from you for a selfish reason.

Why else would he do such a thing? Damning you for eternity by sharing his blood with you, transforming you into this… parasite who needs others to live. You find your thoughts heading into a circle, so you try to stop thinking too much about Mihawk.

After maybe twenty-five minutes of walking, a city makes its way into your line of sight, though it is deep into the night, occupied minds cannot find the time in their schedules for sleep, and they wander the streets. Some laugh merrily, others wallow in their own negativity, and you and Robin are just looking for somewhere to settle. It would be easier to go after a drunken man and drink him dry, but you aren’t the type of vampire to chase after men simply because they’re easily accessible, you have your eyes set on a beautiful archaeologist this time. Following in her footsteps, you reach a cozy looking Inn. There are orchids displayed in intricately patterned vases nearby the open door. The building itself is made of a sturdy looking wooden structure with a wide arch that has a homemade sign on display.

“Come in, come in! Are ya ladies looking for lodging? Beauties such as yourself should never be caught out at such a late hour. You too, young man with the dashing golden locks! I have plenty of room for all.”

An older woman comes into view, popping out of the doorway and dancing towards you two, including the blonde man. She’s short and stout with graying hair tied back with a piece of cloth, an apron tied around her waist with a welcoming smile. There’s a keyring hanging from a chain clasped around her neck, which must be keys to the rooms.

“How much would you charge for a single room with two beds? I’m afraid I’ve nearly used all my travel funds. It's just for tonight, ma’am.” Robin unclasps a leather pouch from around her belt, her lantern is now extinguished. She loosens the drawstrings around it, digging around for a second as she awaits an answer, her cold blue eyes drawn to the contents of her coin pouch. The woman looks back between you and Robin with an accusatory glance, her lips pursed, and eyes narrowed all while she crosses her arms over her chest.

“Why, sure, I can do that for you two… Maybe they’re together…?” The older woman not so quietly mutters the last part under her breath.

“And you, young man?” She speaks to the hooded blonde man now, who jolts the very second she tries to draw his attention. You watch him remove his hood after stepping a bit more into the shadow casted nearby, then you notice his odd eyebrows. They’re swirled, but he seems to cover the right side of his face with his bangs quickly when he catches onto your curious look, a shy blush and beating heart greet your ears and eyes, which you consider a rather friendly introduction. There is still a part of you that enjoys this manner of attention, but you want to keep it buried for now.

“One room, one night. Please and thank you, Mademoiselle.” His voice is smooth, but it has an undeniable presence, reminiscent of a certain emperor which ruled about a century ago, one who coincidentally also had swirled eyebrows and blonde hair. What a great shame such a handsome young man even somewhat resembles that stupidity encrusted oaf.

“For the ladies, thirty in total, for the young man, it's just fifteen.”

She leads the three of you inside slowly, shutting the front door of the Inn after all has entered. The reception area gives off a comforting vibe, and there's the faint smell of dinner dug into the beige colored walls, the wood planked floors are a bit squeaky and worn, but still not the slightest bit dirtied. Robin hands over thirty berry, and your brows quirk up when you see the exact same face on the coins. That asshole made his way onto the modern-day currency. The blonde man hands over his payment as well, your eyes glance over the rings of silver adorning his fingers, paired with many jewels. Not exactly the best choice if you’ll be out in a slightly more rural area, but maybe he’s just a clueless rich kid who got lost.

“I’ll be right back young man, wait here for a moment while I show these pretty ladies to their room.”

Nodding towards your direction, she guides you down a dimly lit hallway, passing what must have been a dozen doors before she finally reached one that seemed deliberately excluded from the others. Does she actually think you're a couple still? You have no interest in romance, merely feeding off of people, male or female. A pretty face does help, that you will admit. The innkeeper removes a heavy metal key off of the large keyring hanging around her neck, and places it into Robin’s open hands.

“You two ladies stay safe, I wouldn’t go out this hour at night, what with all the rowdy men. Your door locks, too.” She smiles at you two, before walking back to the reception area.

Robin sighs, unlocking and pushing the door to your room open. The room is a bit smaller than someone of your caliber is used to, but it is clean and pristine, but the windows only have a sheer curtain to cover them. There’s two beds in each corner, their footboards facing each other, one on the left side, the other on the right. Robin removes her boots, loosening the clasps on them and placing them neatly by the door, the lantern she had with her is rubbing against her hip with every step she takes… You don’t know why, but you can’t seem to stop watching it. You’re telling yourself it’s just because you’re hungry, but if you keep this up you’ll reveal the secret you’re trying to keep even from yourself.

When you snap back to yourself, Robin has already tucked herself into the bed in the left corner. Her clothes are scattered near the foot of her bed, and you avert your eyes like a sinner scared to face the divine.

“I’m going to bed, I don’t want to have any delays for when we set out in the morning.” Robin yawns, shuffling around under the thick blankets in bed. One can only imagine what lies underneath. Sighing, you place yourself on top of the right bed, subtly glancing over to watch Robin, simply because you need to make sure she’s asleep so you can try to feed off of her, no other reason. Eventually, the rise and fall of her chest becomes rhythmic, and she’s asleep. Is now a good time? You feel nervous, for some reason… It feels like you’re being watched again.

Your back is turned to the window, so there’s no mistaking it, his eyes are back onto you. As you whip back around, you see a glimpse of him, before he’s gone within a blink of the eye.

Mihawk. You scowl, snatching the key off of Robin’s nightstand and begin scrambling to unlock the door. Angry footsteps are as silent as can be, but you are running as fast as you can to get outside before you can process your thoughts about why he’s following you around again. Swinging the door open with an unimaginable force, you disregard the curious and frightened crows staring at you, walking in the direction of the woods. Is this another one of his sick jokes? What’s he going to do, bite your neck again? Worst case scenario is that he kills you. Again.

“Is something the matter, Y/N?” Same as before, he appears behind you, his cold breath tickling the back of your neck in the exact same manner. He smells very strongly of blood still, and you can feel the weight of all the lives he has taken after you, maybe you can even taste their blood smeared on his lips. Fear stops you from turning to face him.

“You pompous fool. There certainly is, and it’s the fact that you’ve been constantly following me ever since I awoke. You already turned me into a parasite, what more do you want? How greedy of a man are you?” You’re seething with unbridled rage, and a feeling of helplessness. His cold hand rests against yours, his fingers allowing themselves to intertwine with yours with his palm pressed against the back of your hand. All these years, and you still fail to understand him. He purposely made you turn, but why? It could be something that you did as a human woman, but your memory betrays you. He’s clearly mocking you by holding your hand, inadvertently stating that he sees you as no threat.

“Now, now… There isn’t any need for you to be so full of hate. Eternal life is a blessing, not the curse you may think.” He has a smile on his face, surely. But why? Why is it you who has received it, then? Mihawk is an odd man who simple minds can’t even begin to understand, and even you barely grasp exactly what kind of man he is, because vampires prefer to live in solitary. He confuses you with his words, and you stay silent, too weak to fight.

“You already had your fun about a century ago, so I was worried when I heard the news… I wanted to be sure you had a steady food source. After all, you are a part of me, and I am not as cruel and evil as you may be driven to believe. I have no time for your tantrum, so it would be greatly appreciated if you ran along.”

Everything’s even more confusing now. Worried? A part of him? Is he being metaphorical, or is he speaking in the literal sense, that you do not know. His hand slips away from yours, and you feel his presence dissipate. You can’t trust him, but you find yourself growing curious about him and where he even originated from. That woman, Robin, is interested in the history of you, who is also a vampire, and it’s possible that maybe she is aware of Mihawk’s existence, or she has already studied him. Lucky you, you have an archaeologist to help you get two things you need.

You walk your way back inside of the Inn, defeated, but determined. Maybe joining the same guild as Robin would allow you a few resources to learn more about Mihawk, vampires, and what else to do with your life.

But, you are still hungry. It’s urgent, you need to feed by tomorrow night at the very least.

#mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk x reader #hawkeye mihawk #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece fanfiction #nico robin x reader #black leg sanji x reader #sanji x reader

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rwbyrg · 2 days ago

Note

Okay, can we talk about the fact that when Ruby thought she "killed" Oscar, that is when she broke. She just lost it after that. She fell over and you could feel the weight when she hits her knees. It just shows that Ruby really does care for him and if something happened to him, she probably wouldn't be able to go on....

Love and grief are two sides of one coin, and Ruby's fatal flaw is her grief. It is the force that both spurs her to action, and that which is her greatest weakness. This doesn't simply manifest as fighting for those she's already lost (her mother, Pyrrha, Penny, etc.), or fighting to protect those she hasn't lost yet (per her silver eyes: the preservation of life). These aren't just goals or missions; they are the reason she became a huntress in the first place. They are what Ruby Rose is. Except, after all that she has been through by the time she arrives in the Ever After, these foundations that she built her self image upon have withered.

Ruby's desire to honour those she's lost and protect those she hasn't has twisted into a much more insidious thing. A belief that she must save them, that she alone is responsible for it. Except, with every lost friend, with every failure, those fears have taken on greater power over her. They've shifted into the belief that - not only can she not save anyone - but that she is directly responsible for the deaths of those she's lost. That every time she tries to do the right thing, she will just cause more harm than good.

It is a fear so paralyzing, that she becomes unable to lift up her weapon - an extension of her self; a symbol of her identity - at all, lest taking action bring about what she fears most once again.

And then Neo goes and proves her right.

And of course she uses Oscar to do it.

In the Dojo Scene in V5, Oscar is the first - and for a while, only - person to get Ruby to open up and be vulnerable about her fears and the weight of her burdens. He is the only one to see through the façade she puts up before it's too late. That scene kicks off their relationship as something unique, showing us that Oscar is close to Ruby in a way that differs from the rest of the cast. A closeness that only grows with every show of mutual support between them, with every instance of Oscar noticing Ruby struggle where others have failed, and with every moment where their attachments to each other are tested. Also, it's no coincidence the core issue that Ruby bonds with Oscar over in the first place is his fear about the merge: a curse that slowly strips away Oscar's agency, autonomy, and identity.

I think I've said before that technically Neo could have used an illusion of anyone's death in the Tea House Scene, but that's not really true. To anyone paying attention, you know what's going to happen before the cane drops. Because Ruby is closer to Oscar than she is with others. Because Ruby is fighting desperately to save those she loves, while being terrified her actions might be the very reason she loses them in the first place. And while Ruby is wandering around the Ever After looking for a way home, Oscar is a world apart from her fighting a curse he is losing himself to; a fate that Ruby has no power to protect him from.

So of course it was an illusion of Oscar's death at her own hand that pushed her to her breaking point. He is the embodiment of her attachments (her greatest strength) and that which she fears losing the most (her greatest weakness), because he is the one she is most likely to lose if she can't win this fight.

It was always going to be Oscar. It was only ever going to be Oscar.

#ask #asks #rwby #rwby rosegarden #rosegarden #meta #analysis #rosegarden412 #this meta gave me a lot of grief (pun not intended)#too many layers to this ship i keep getting turned around and struggling to say what I'm trying to say #but like. you get it.#ruby rose #oscar pine

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missbuckyhellfire · 2 days ago

Text

Cat And Mouse : Emperor Geta (3/?)

Previous Part

Plot:

The Twin emperors have a problem : A little thief who steals form the rich and gives to the poor. The rich despise them yet the people of Rome love them. However, the thief's little game can only go on for so long before the elder twin catches them and discovers their identity: Sabina, daughter of Marcus Acacius. Rather than executing her, he decides to marry her as a way to gain the Roman peoples approval. To Sabina, it is another way to get closer to the large stashes of gold in their keep. The two see this as a opportunity to gain power , but what else will they gain along the way?

Warnings: MANIPULATION EVERYWHERE! CHEATING! NSFW content,Language, The Emperors being themselves, Flirting, Concubines, Bullying, Fluff

Terms to know:

Dulcissima: Sweetest

Mel: Honey

************************************************************************

In Macrinus chambers, Sabina didn’t focus on any of the lush, lovely couches that laid before her, or the flowers freshly picked in the most elegant vase she ever saw. No, her dark eyes stared into oblivion, thinking about what had happened moments before.

To her, she felt like she witnessed something that clearly raised her position to him. Even after the night that the two had, she thought she was something special to him.

Obviously not.

Macrinus had noticed her lack of emotion and pulled her in for a hug. She paused for a moment then wrapped her arms around him. She took in his strong scent of oils around his body, but it was far too strong for her, and she turned her nose away.

“Even the highest of honors, the Empress does not deserve to see the cruelest acts of adultery.” He muttered in her ear. “ I thought Geta would have stopped his sexual escapades as soon as he wed you. “

“Clearly he hasn’t “

Macrinus had took a step back and gestured for the two of them to sit down on the couch. Sabina hesitated and let out a soft whimper from the previous nights events after joining Macrinus. On the couch. “Have you and Geta consummated?”

Sabina cocked a brow, thinking back to what they did the pervious night. She shook her head, knowing exactly what he was referring to. “Sure we explore each other, but we never took that step. He wants to wait until I feel ready.”

“Which is why he is playing with that concubine, what is preventing you from submitting?” Macrinus chuckled to himself.

“I don’t just submit to anyone Macrinus, you know that” Sabina smiled and shook her head. Macrinus thought for a moment then laughed and clapped his hands together.

“Then why don’t you get yourself a concubine?”

“Empresses don’t have those. We only have our husband’s and that’s it.” Sabina thought he was losing his mind. “Your insane Macrinus.”

“Maybe but that’s how I got here. “ He looked at all of the luxurious things around him. “You need to make him beg for you but putting your attention elsewhere. Another man perhaps or woman, just someone who you think will get on Geta’s nerves and make them a concubine of yours. Then watch him want your devotion. If there’s anything, I know for a fact that Geta does not like sharing.”

“Then lets make him jealous.”

“Yes, no Emperess, especially one as fair and a spokesperson for justice as you should put up with that bullshit from their husband, is he blind?”

“Or perhaps afraid knowing what may happen if he hurts me.” Sabina stated. “The people of Rome would revolt, you remember what happened when Geta locked me up.”

Macrinus nodded. “The romans don’t want their Emperess harmed, whose to say, you could take over you know.”

“Why would I? I can’t take over Rome. The people wouldn’t take me, especially as a woman.” Sabina looked down. Being in charge with Geta and Carcalla to the sidelines would indeed be easier for everyone on many levels, with money being the top one. But would she really want all of the responsibilities.

“Why not, it wont be a invasion, just make him submit to you completely and essentially Rome will be all yours.” Macrinus shrugged.

“What you suggest is treason.” Sabina stared into his eyes. “And even you telling me this…..”

“You wont tell anyone, besides I know that you want what’s best for the people, and overthrowing them may be an option.” He said in a lower tone. “Think about it, but for now, lets have some wine.”

************************************************************************

Geta watched Sabina storm out of the room as the concubine began to rub his shoulders. He didn’t understand why she was angry with him, they did have a good time. But he had other needs that needed to be met. Geta didn’t even notice that his concubine, Rosa moving her hands lower on his body much like she did before they had their ventures with each other the previous night.

When Sabina fell asleep the previous night, Geta still had a strong urge in his body. He wanted to release his tension, his urges as well. He knew better than force his body on a Demi-goddess and the daughter of a beloved general of Rome. She was intoxicating to him though, the scents and the curves of her body, her overall beauty. But, he made a promise to wait until she was ready.

He slowly slipped away, and put on his robe. He took one last look at his beautiful wife before he walked out of the room and closed the door behind himself. The emperor made a right and made his way to the Concubines chambers. He only wanted something quick to get the edge off and he planned to run back to the room by daylight.

The emperor was greeted by a swarm of concubines and his brother being surrounded by his “favorites” on the bed by the window that oversaw Rome. There were a range of concubines before him, thin, curvy, light haired, dark haired various eye colors and more. He scanned through them all and found one. She was considered as his concubine as they spent nights together before. Yet she looked the most like his beautiful wife, with dark hair and dark eyes not as lovely but close enough.

Rosa looked at him and waited for affirmation and took his hand to the other bed on the opposite side of the room, and pulled the canopy around them so they could have privacy and be enveloped into the darkness. Geta always preferred to have his intimacy in private. She watched as he took off his robes then commanded him to get on his back so they can begin. Usually it would begin with a back massage, then she would get a bit lower and start kissing his body. At some point, Geta would have enough of the teasing then he would flip himself over to face her and would command her to ride him.

And that’s exactly what happened.

Geta lost track of time and was still in bed cuddling with Rosa when sun broke and his wife was a distant thought in his head.

After a while, Caracalla noticed his brother’s state and took a sip of wine while turning back to the dancer.

“She will get over it,” Caracalla muttered. “It’s part of being an Empress, you remember how many father had? Each day he had a new one running out of his room.”

“But Sabina is different brother.”

“Clearly, she is.” Caracalla stated. “Tell me brother what made you interested in her after locking her up for what ever crime you won’t share with me.”

Geta looked down and played with the rings on his hand, “She is just something special in my heart, I don’t want to hurt her.”

“Fucking her won’t hurt her brother. It’s her job now.”

“Yes, I just don’t want Rome to go up in flames if I took her flower’s petals too soon.” Geta cleared his throat. “I’ll take it when she asks for it.”

“Asks for it, brother we are emperors everything we see is ours. Including your wife.” Carcalla chuckled. “I would have just taken it on our wedding night if she liked it or not,”

“I know you would have but I am not you.” Geta couldn’t take it anymore, so he stood up and excused himself from his swarm of concubines and the dancer to think.

“I can’t do anything right now, why can’t I have a good time while having my wife? Yet, pissing off the gods as I am doing now is quite possibly the worst thing to do.” Geta thought to himself as he stormed through the halls. “ I haven’t even fucked her yet”

SMASH.

Geta blinked twice at the shattered pot once on the pillar. It was a bright pink one with lovely gold , silver accents with pearls. It was their mother’s favorite vase that was gifted to them by the general of the time. There was no sign of any force pushing it over so he could only see it as a sign of the gods rage towards him.

He looked down to see the painting of Venus’s face on one of the larger pieces that smashed to the ground.

Fuck, he knew he had to apologise, even if he didn’t mean it.

There was a rush of servants that began to sweep up the vase as he kept on walking down the hallway. He went on his way to his chambers but started halfway when he heard chuckling from one of the rooms.

That familiar high pitch of his wife.

It took a few moments for him to recognize it as his advisor’s room but he couldn’t help himself, he had to lean against the door. Obviously, there was something going on that peaked his wife’s attention.

At first he just heard wine being poured and the clinking of glasses, but then he began to hear more of their conversation. By the tone of their voices, they already had a few glasses.

“When you say, explored each other do you mean like ….” Macrinus began

“With our tongues and lips, yes, but I am not ready for making love with him. I just feel like we need to form some sort of bond first. Sure, we are married and everything, but he hardly knows me more than the thief of Rome, and pressured with his duties to impress the people.”

Geta understood that. They didn’t know each other, they hardly were able to spend time with one another without the pressures of the city and the gods. Yet, where was he to start, he was always given things, how was he to earn this?

“How would he be able to get you to open up then?”

“Spend time with me even! Learn about my favorite things, my hobbies and interests, there is more to me than just being a thief who is also his wife.”

“That I know,” He heard Macrinus chuckle. “Does he know of your writing or poetry? People would talk of the general’s daughter’s writing pieces.”

“I usually base my pieces on Virgil, but I do like venturing on my own works as well. I doubt that he has heard of my pieces which is why he didn’t bring it up.”

Geta honestly had no idea that she wrote creative pieces. He hasn’t even heard about it, now he grew curious about it. That’s a place to start at least to get her attention. But he also needed to learn more about her as well. He took a step back from the door and kept walking, deciding to take a stop in the library in hopes of finding something written by his wife.

************************************************************************

After the glasses of wine, Sabina decided to take a walk in the gardens. She had yet to visit them, but she figured it would be a good way to take a breather and take in what Macrinus advised her to do.

Getting a concubine? Who would want to do that?

Sabina knew she was attractive to many, her husband and oddly her brother in law included. But, who would want to live in that lifestyle? Only being treated like a toy to the Emperor or Emperess on the whim they wish it. She wanted to make Geta jealous though, but to treat someone like that…

She couldn’t do it, she may have to explain everything to the future concubine she picks. They may also appreciate the arrangement more if she treated them with dignity. Even pay them if it is a way to ensure their secret would be kept or whatnot.

Her disturbing thoughts stopped when she seen a large patch of red roses, fully bloomed and opened up to her. She admired how thick the stems were and couldn’t help herself but pick one out for her to take with her. A knife was by the pot so she used it to pick the one that attracted her the most.

She had the rose in her hand and put it against her nose to take in the scent. There was a range of different scents around her, but she only focused on this one. She closed her eyes for a moment to take in the scent.

However her dark eyes opened when she had felt lingering eyes watching her. She scanned around the area, only to find Geta’s dark eyes watching her. The rose bush was in front of the library entrance, and of course, the windows were there. She scanned him for a moment as she noticed some books were in his hand.

Didn’t know he wanted to read.

His eyes didn’t leave her as he noticed the red rose in her hand, freshly picked by her. He should have known she was an admirer of red roses. He hoped she would see his books in hand as perhaps it would be a sign that he is at least trying.

Sabina couldn’t care less though, and she kept walking through the gardens. To her, she just learned that he enjoyed reading.

However, Geta had talked to the librarian and couldn’t find any copies of her writing anywhere in the palace. He had requested that the librarian find some of her written works and bring them to the chambers immediately. The books in his hands were some of Virgil’s works and introductions to writing creatively. It was an attempt to build a stronger relationship between them.

************************************************************************

That evening, the Emperors decided to have a party at the palace since they felt the gods blessed it upon them to have one.

Caracalla wanted to get drunk with people and Geta wanted to find out more about Sabina through the mouth of the people. They knew her more than he did so he thought it would be a good chance to find more about her while he awaited for her creative writing.

Sabina knew what she wanted to do this evening. She wanted to shock, seduce and get under her husband’s skin. She knew that she would have to dress slightly more risky than normal to do this and get a “concubine”.

Her low cut stola was a very faint sheer pink that hardly hid her daisy covered nipples. She picked them from the garden and thought they would be a unique twist to nipple coverings. She let her dark wavy hair down but used a shell clip gifted to her by her father to remove the strands of her face to reveal the pearl earrings and necklace. Her eyes were painted with silver metallics that made her brown eyes stick out. Her cheeks were graciously blushed with shades of pink and her lips were colored with a dark deep pink. She made sure that her husband didn’t see her until the party. She knew he would likely tell her to get changed, her father would have.

She waited for a few minutes after the party started to make her entrance. Her husband and brother-in-law were already greeting the guests entering as their paid entertainment began to sing for the guests.

That was when she casually walked inside the event. Sabina knew she was going to have heads turn to her, but that was the point. She wanted to find the perfect person to make a “concubine” and get her husband jealous.

Sabina was right, everyone was essentially staring at her. She however, focused on walking over to her husband and her brother in law with their concubines together. As she got closer, she could see his cheeks turning pink.

“Husband,” She bowed at him and the entire room was silent.

“Wife, what are you wearing?” Geta stared at the entire outfit, perhaps staring at the nipple daisies a few seconds too long.

“Do you like it ? To honor my mother.” Sabina said boldly in which there were whispers amongst the crowd.

“Can we see the ring your husband given you?” Rosa asked. She was next to Geta with her hand on his lap. “I am sure it is lovely.”

Sabina and Geta looked at each other for a moment. He never did give her a ring for engagement or their wedding. Sabina hid her hand behind her body as she looked down.

“No ring! I would have thought you would have been given the loveliest one of Rome. Guess the rumors are true, this whole thing was arranged last minute. I suppose that’s why your husband is still swarmed by concubines.” Rosa smirked at Sabina. Having no worth to speak to her husband’s whore, she turned away and walked off.

“That was cruel Rosa.” Geta finally said to her. His hand pushed hers off his leg. She shook her head.

“Then why doesn’t she have a ring, without it she is like a concubine.” Rosa snickered with his brother joining in.

“Yea, she is a virgin concubine.” Caracalla raised his voice a bit louder, just enough for Sabina to hear them on the other side of the room.

************************************************************************

Sabina didn’t need any of that. It was Geta’s doing that he didn’t get her a ring at the very least. Forced marriage or not, a ring would have been nice to at least make it official. She had lots of rings, but having a ring as a promise of protection and love meant something to her.

Not like this entire situation was full of love anyways.

But it still would have saved the embarrassment that even the Gods could have seen.

She stood in the corner with a glass of wine in hand and sweet treats in the other. She scanned the room to see if there was anyone worthy of taking in as a “concubine”. Or at the very least, someone who would get the attention of the emperor.

Her eyes met with someone who came in with the Advisor. A younger man, with piercing blue eyes and short darker hair. His face was affirmed and straight ahead as Macrinus talked to him all he did was nod and mutter a couple additional comments. He was a handsome man, who worn extravagant clothing.

He gotten her attention. She felt like a magnet to him, not by attraction but by curiosity. He looked exquisite and she wondered if the advisor brought him intentionally or if this was just a coincidence. Something told her it was the former. She didn’t hesitate to walk over to talk to him.

Geta didn’t let his eyes off his wife since the incident. He didn’t want anyone touching her in the wrong way after the way Rosa talked to her. The concubine kept trying to place her hand on his knee, but he kept slapping it away. His brows began to lower as Sabina walked to the advisor and uninvited guest. He knew that Macrinus and Sabina were getting accustomed to each other, but he wasn’t too sure about the guest.

Sabina smiled at Macrinus as he clapped his hands together. “Ah the jewel of Rome, I would like you to meet someone.” The stranger’s eyes had brightened up to her, in pure interest. He took her hand and admired her face for a moment before he kissed her knuckles.

“I am Felix Remus Julius, second son of a nobleman of Rome, speaker of 4 languages, poet, and in the presence of the loveliest woman I met.” He kissed he hand again. “I am in the highest of honors to be in the presence of the Emperess, the hero of Rome” He bowed lowly to her.

“I am honored to be in your presence. My father spoke highly of you, even considered…” Sabina paused at her thought, remembering where she is. Speaking of possible marriage arrangements of the past were not wise in the presence of two power hungry emperors.

“I do recall, perhaps in another path if you weren’t caught.” He winked at her.

“Perhaps.”

“I brought a gift to honor the Empress.” He stated as Macrinus had smiled at Sabina then glanced at Geta who was cocking his head trying to see what kind of gift the man was gifting her. In Felix’s pocket was a pretty closed seashell, It was white and polished. Sabina would have been happy to just take the shell, but he opened it to reveal a gorgeous ring before her. A golden ring with a ruby in the center.

“This is too much Felix” Sabina commented as he placed the ring on her right hand’s ring finger.

“Nonsense, soon enough your going to have so many jewels on your fingers from your supporters.” There was a silence in his voice, noticing no ring on Sabina’s left hand.”It will be the first of many.”

“Regardless, I am sure that none of the jewels will be as lovely as the one you gave me.”

Geta eyed the jewel on his wife’s finger. She had her cheeks flush slightly red at the sight of this noble. Caracalla noticed the change of his brother as Geta had clawed his hand into the sofa.

“Better watch that one brother, your wife may have another lover soon enough.”

With a couple more chuckles, Sabina ushered Felix to join her in the gardens. As the two left, Macrinus went to the younger brother to discuss something. Geta stood up, leaving his concubines alone as he kept his distance behind them.

************************************************************************

Felix and Sabina snuck away quickly. The two-holding hand in hand, giving soft chuckles to one another. They rushed to the gardens quickly and quietly in hopes that no one will find them there while they talked in private.

Geta on the other hand was quick and sly. He wanted to be close but keep his distance. He was furious on how quick the physical contact was happening while he had to work so hard to get what he got, and he still didn’t consummate the relationship! Regardless, he is learning more about his bride that she is not speaking up about. He wanted to learn as much as possible before he tries to get closer to her. He can’t fuck up again.

Finally, Sabina and Felix stop by a rose bush under the moonlight. The light highlights their features and beauty which makes them both more alluring to the other. Geta noticed this in his hiding spot, a simple pillar. He should have planned this ahead of time as he had to be very selective with his movements.

“So why are we sitting by the dark blue roses? “Felix asked trying to scoot closer to her.

“They are my favorite, my second are red roses” Sabina answered. “My father used to bring a set back home from his ventures. They remind me of the stars, when the fresh rain leaves them as they twinkle.”

“You are a poet even when you don’t try dulcissima” Felix chuckles as he put his hand on her thigh. “ My father spoke of how skilled you are, how you fight for what you want and how beautiful you were.”

Geta felt the rage of heat in his cheeks, thinking of what things must be going on inside of Felix’s head. The way that he touched her was angering him, in more way than one. Geta had to steady his breaths, so he won’t get caught.

“That is kind, Felix but what is the real reason why you came here tonight. I am sure it wasn’t to impress an empress”

“I came to get to know you better, was curious if you would be interested in having a companion. Word goes around Rome fast and I heard that your husband isn’t treating you right as you should be treated.” He said moving his hand to her upper thigh. “Macrinus is a close ally of my family and when he told me of the crimes your enduring daily, I had to come to help you.”

“You don’t know me.” Sabina said.

“I want to take the time to.”

If he wasn’t hiding, Geta would have sliced the pretty boy’s head off. The emperor wasn’t the most pleasant at this moment and each second it was getting harder and hard to calm his nerves.

“I am flattered with that offer, I am looking for one too. I really need someone to talk to who I can trust.” Sabina bites her lip. “I need someone to be my friend, my family is miles away and I hardly have a place to keep to myself. I am not ready for anything sexual, but I am looking for companionship.”

“Don’t worry we can take it slow Emperess, “He muttered as he was getting rather close to Sabina.

Geta couldn’t believe what he is hearing. Was Sabina in the slow process of getting a concubine? His first one was in the same way, a friend then eventually much more. He was supposed to be enough for her, now she’s seeking guidance elsewhere.

“O..oh” Sabina said and then all Geta heard was the sounds of two lips crash against one another.

He couldn’t hear anymore of it, so he slowly made his exit, finding no purpose to be sticking around while his wife is making out. Sure he did a lot worse the previous night, but still it made him sick to his stomach hearing it. He managed to leave without Sabina or Felix knowing.

The two kept their lips on eachother’s for a few more moments before they parted from each other. Blue eyes looking into brown eyes, both were full of uncertainty.

“Let’s take it slow.” Felix said.

“I don’t want the romance; I just want a companion.” Sabina stated. “I am flattered of the kiss though.”

“It is alright, we can be companions, just remember if you need anything I am here to aid you.”

Sabina smiles. “Great, you can come with me to the library and help me with my writing”

Felix nodded eagerly and follows her.

************************************************************************

Geta waited for Sabina to come back to their shared chambers after the party. He wasn’t going to say that he heard everything between her and Felix, but he knew it was going to be hard to hide what was going through his head.

How could she do this?

It also gave him the opportunity to hide the books of her written works from her before she came back. He didn’t want to read them in front of her, he intended to surprise her with some of her writing pieces and perhaps some of his own. He already had talked to the gardener to change the flowers into red and blue roses for her.

He has to find out more about her by spending time with his wife.

The emperor heard his wife’s laughter in the hallway with his voice. He muttered a couple curse words as he heard Felix say goodnight to her. She opened the door and Geta had tightened his housecoat.

“I missed you at the event wife, where did you run off to?” He asked instantly. He watched Sabina remove the hairclips and her dress. The dress that mentally drove him wild. Why did she decide to wear that? To bring Rome to their knees in the most unintimidating manner? He felt his inner needs grow when he watched her remove the daisies from her nipples. After a few moments of her being completely nude in front of him, she placed the robe on her body. He still stared, admiring the curves of her body.

“I went to the library with Felix, He is quite knowledgeable you know. “ She remarked.

“I see,” Geta was trying to bite back remarks. “So what’s the plan tomorrow for you?”

Sabina cocked a brow. “ Very curious of you of asking of my plans, I am going to the market to shop.”

“Is anyone going with you?” Geta wanted to make sure this was an opportunity.

“No, no one is going with me.”

“Great I will join you tomorrow, I need to grab a few things anyways.” Geta tuts walking to the bed. He wasn’t going to do anything until he gets to know her, its going to be a long process but he wanted to make sure that things will please the gods and her.

“Join me? You haven’t spent time with me yet.” Sabina slowly walked to the bed and laid down. “But this is a good place to start, be ready we will leave in the morning.”

“I am eager to, Sleep well mel” Geta said as he shut his eyes, thinking about the upcoming day and what it will have in store for them.

************************************************************************

Sabina and Geta got up early in the morning to prepare themselves for the day ahead of themselves. Both worn more modest, casual simple lavender purple embroidered stolas for their activities ahead, with minimal jewelry. Sabina wanted to enjoy the day without being dragged down by precious metals while Geta didn’t want to be robbed.

The couple did minimalist work on their faces, besides purple eyeliner swiped on their eyes, giving it a cat eye look. Their brown eyes popped with the purple color and it made them more intense and intimidating looking. Sabina decided to braid her hair back into a braid for the day, having a feeling she was going to need her hair up.

A quick breakfast was in order so they were given some cheeses, fruits and bread to start off their day. Servants kept filling up their plates with food and Sabina kept politely saying no thanks after the fourth serving. Geta let out a soft chuckle.

“They just want to make sure your well fed in case…”

“Of?”

“If your with child.”

“Oh well I am not and this food is getting a bit overbearing” Sabina looked at her rather large plate of her favorite things.

Geta cleared his throat “ LEAVE US!”

“Thank you for the food, but I think this is enough for now.” She cleared her throat , trying to clarify the negative remarks given to them by the emperor. They servants seemed to reciprocate the remarks given to them from her before they left,

Geta scanned her plate. Bryeria, lacterine and ricotta cheeses were on her plate, often spread with a piece of fresh bread. On the side there was apples, grapes, peaches slices with a few cherries. He made sure he mentally took note which foods she had on her plate. He watched her from across the table eating her food and enjoying the luxury food,

“Are you enjoying your food wife?”

“It is delicious, however…”

Geta almost stood up from the table about to send back in the servants to fetch something. But Sabina lowered her hand to reduce his excitement. “I am going to the market, I will buy the breakfast wine I enjoy. Perhaps you will enjoy it too, it reminds me of morning meals with my family.” Sabina was going to say something more but bit her lip.

“I can’t wait to try this wine “ Geta smiled at her. He watched her dark eyes look down at her plate and pick up a piece of lacterine cheese and place it in her mouth.

“Where are your concubines today?” His wife asked casually going for another bite of food. Guilt and panic flooded over him, wondering what brought up the question. Frankly, he didn’t care what they did, just as long as they were there when he needed them.

“Not sure, probably in the chambers reading or something.” Geta shrugged. Then he thought of the prick from the previous night, the noble that kissed her. Her new concubine, that she has yet to address to him. Geta has hardly met him, but he hates him. “You met that noble last night,”

“Yes Felix, a smart man of the mind. We spent last night in the library writing poetry.” Sabina looks down. It was what they did for part of the evening. The rest was just talking about the new arrangements, as she planned to introduce him to the court in the next party.

“You never said you wrote poetry.” Geta tried to pretend to be shocked, he has been trying to read each of the poems that she wrote to get an idea of her creativity, but with no avail. The emperor even got writer’s block when trying to write a small piece of written work for her.

“I did, it’s a habit I am trying to get back into.” Sabina said snacking on a slice of peaches.

“Why did you stop?” Geta tilted his head at her.” Writing is a gift”

“It is, I couldn’t write when I was happy. Been thinking about writing again as I can write when I am sad.”

That statement made Geta speechless.

************************************************************************

Sabina told Geta she wanted to go the market closer to her father’s home so she could welcome him back as soon as he returns. In addition to that, it had sold family comforts that she had growing up. She missed the simple things that she had, and wanted to bring them to her new home, for some type of comfort in a forced situation.

Even though Sabina wanted to have a private, relaxing day in Rome, her husband always had to make an entrance. He had to swing his cloak around for the public to see and he craved the attention that he got from commoners oogling his clothing.

However, he didn’t get as much attention as Sabina as a crowd of people rushed to her feet, some people even kissing her legs, singing praises to her. As soon as she stepped out of the carriage, she was treated like the goddess that she was. Red rose petals were placed around her feet as the they would mutter praises to her. Each step she took they created a pathway for her. Geta got tossed a couple of the red roses, but almost all eyes were on her.

Including Geta’s.

He wondered why there was no proposal planned in the first place. A beauty like her, he could have married her years ago. Things would have been different, perhaps she wouldn’t have went through her endeavours, stealing. Perhaps things would have changed for the better, there would be less war, less conflicts.

Sabina reached into her bag and grabbed some jewels that were at her disposal. It didn’t take much for everyone to notice the jewels in the palm of her hand. Her dark eyes went to a group of children who wore dirty toga’s and had dirt on their faces from playing around in their families garden.

She ushered them to come closer to her. Hesitant at first, they did, the eldest girl was the first one to come forward and gave a small smile.

“Emperess,” There was a pause then she looked up at Geta. “Emperor”.

“I bring gifts to you and your siblings.” Sabina said softly to them as she knelt down. “What are your names?”

Geta watched as Sabina took the time to talk to the children. He didn’t focus on the words that slipped out of her mouth, but rather watched her actions with the children. They came up to her, scared at first, but eventually they came close to her enough to reach for a hug. She wrapped her arms tightly around them with the largest grin across her face as she gave each of them a sizeable jewel to take home with them.

He began to wonder if he waited too long to bring her into his life. Rome was power hungry, and yet there are children wearing clothing like these children and less. Sure he craved power, he couldn’t deny it, but seeing people like this was concerning. With this, he began to understand what the purpose of her crimes.

She did it truly for the churches, the adults, the children.

He watched as she tossed the remaining jewels in the air. Her hand grabbed his and pulled him away before they were swarmed by the locals. She giggled to herself as she turned to her husband.

“Don’t you see how happy they are?” Sabina said in a joyful tone.”We should bring more to them.” She muttered but looked down when she remembered their arguments a few nights before.

Geta cleared his voice. “No I think we should as well. The people of Rome need to be watched over.”

“Really?” Sabina muttered looking up to him, she didn’t know what to believe anymore from his lips. Was this real? Was this a myth? Or was he only doing it to appease the gods?

“I am sure, I loved watching the joy it brought to you, the children and the others with your generosity.” Geta smiled at her, “I find your kindness attractive, I can’t wait to learn more about you.”

************************************************************************

Sabina and Geta walked around the markets keeping close to one another. Sabina’s hands were full of the spices and goods that reminded her of home. Her husband insisted he would let the cooks to prepare her the food while she just brushed it off.

“I like cooking my own food too actually And making my own sweets.” Sabina shrugged. “I learned how to cook, especially when my servants were away or completing other duties. Besides,I can say I am a pretty good cook” She smiled at herself as Geta noticed the bright sparkles in her dark eyes talking about an interest of hers.

“Your going to have to cook for me sometime.” Geta said to her. “I would love to taste my wife’s cooking.”

“You probably would find it minimal compared to the fine foods your servants make.” Sabina chuckled. “They are amazing cooks.” She didn’t want to disappoint him in her skills when he has servants with skills that pass hers.

“I would love to try it, Your cooking sounds enticing to me.” Geta leant over to her ear to whisper into it. “Besides, I can’t imagine you making anything sweeter than…” Before he could finish his statement, he noticed that there was a man in front of them with a bunch of jeweled rings. They were rubies, emeralds and sapphires on the marvelous silver and golden rings. Geta didn’t say a word, he only watched which ones his wife was eying. He did owe her a ring after all.

He watched her eyes go to the sapphire rings. There was one that sparkled like the evening stars on Palatine Hill. Around them were sapphires that were almost white that were banded together on a silver band. She smiled for a couple moments as her eyes were captivated by it before she muttered a “no thank you. “. She turned her head then made her way to an astrology tent.

Geta was confused by her movements and wanted to follow her, but not before whispering in the seller's ear to bring that ring to him with a range of sizes to Palatine Hill by the evening.

************************************************************************

Sabina admired the astrology charts provided to her from the seller as Geta stared at the maps before him. He never fully understood the concepts of stars, but he couldn’t say no to the bright smile across her face admiring the dots in the sky.

She spoke unfamiliar terms with the seller as her eyes began to sparkle like the stars themselves. Her eyes began to glow even brighter as she seen the map of the night that she was born. Geta admired the stars but took note on writing on the bottom of the scroll.

Veneralia Rital

From Geta’s knowledge, that was a few days away. With the empress’s name day arriving, he had to start planning for it as well. He had to plan games, a party and make sure her family arrives for the occasion. He did find it funny that her day of birth was aligned with her mother’s annual ritual.

He watched her bring coins, and then some to purchase the scroll, commenting how she was going to hang it somewhere in the palace. Both her and her husband were shocked to see Marcus Acacius right behind her.

“I shouldn’t let my daughter pay for this! This is a gift” He acclaims as he spins his daughter around and she hugs him quickly. However, the general’s eyes never left Geta.

“That is too kind father!” She muttered in their hug as Geta given him a soft nod.

“I was expecting to see you tomorrow.” Geta stated.

“I always come in a day early to see my wife and daughter” He said. “It was a wise guess to find my daughter here! Always looking up in the stars dreaming.” He looks down to Sabina and flashes a smile. “I sure hope that you are writing as well! You will see me tomorrow” The general passed a note to Sabina, which Geta didn’t fail to notice. He placed a kiss on his daughter’s forehead then left the tent.

Geta wondered if Sabina’s father knew about something. Why would he say that in front of him? About her writing? Does he know she writes when she is sad? Of course he does! He raised her and allowed her to live with him until she was married. However, the worrying thoughts went away after noticing the bright grin across his wife’s face.

************************************************************************

After their long day, Geta and Sabina went back home. They were silent in the carriage ride home, but the Emperor couldn’t get his eyes off of her. He wondered if his father ever felt this way about his mother, even though Geta could recall all of the concubines and servants running out of his chambers only with bedsheets wrapped around them. This marriage between Sabina and him was not that much different, but he wanted to not be like his father. Even though last night was proven different. Macrinus was the one who suggested the Emperor to find a bed warmer so he could “practise” ways to please his wife. But the sadness in Sabina’s eyes had said a lot to him.

He didn’t want this, especially with her.

Once he spent the day with her. He watched and understood why the people of Rome loved her and admired her. He understood why Felix was so quick to become her concubine, though he didn’t understand why she wouldn’t sleep with him, but read books with him unless if she is truly lonely. If he was only being used as a friend, but then again he did kiss her. He did do the same to her, plus more so it was the least of his concerns. He hoped that he could have a chance to prove himself to her and perhaps it could just be the two of them.

An Emperor could only dream as there are temptations on every corner. The same goes for his wife beyond the sins of the flesh.

Sabina on the other hand had enjoyed the time outside of the palace and the time with her husband. She honestly had no choice but to have him tag along, but it was an opportunity to get him to know her better. She thought he did and hoped that he would join her in a few days time on her name day as she was returning to donate to the temple of Venus.

But she shan’t tell him yet as she thought it wouldn’t be something of interest to him. It was a blessing enough that Geta agreed to give more to the people.

She admired his dark brown eyes that reflected into the sunlight as he watched the views from outside the carriage. He tried to avoid eye contact, but he felt her eyes growing on him.

************************************************************************

Geta was in his chambers late at night, wondering where wife is was. First thought was Felix but he found him with Caracalla and his concubines reading poetry to them. Thought it was odd, but he figured it was fine which meant Sabina wasn’t sneaking around with others. She was alone in the palace somewhere he just needed to find somewhere his bride could be hiding. He checked the library but rather found Macrinus sitting at a table with the stack of scrolls that Geta asked for early in the day.

“Your wife is quite the poet, Roses that bloom in the saddest of times often grow the toughest thorns to fight.” He read out loud. His eyes never left the paper as he came closer. “A fighter for the people of Rome is a fighter for love”.

“I never heard any poetry from her, provides insight into her head.” Geta mused. “I asked for those books this morning, thank you for holding them for me.” He walked over to take them from him. That was when his eyes darted back to him.

“My pleasure, I wanted to read some more of them before you got your hands on them.” His advisor smiled. He gave him the collection of scrolls as his hands were overwhelmed by the scriptures.

“I noticed you took your wife out today to the city. I hope you had a good time”

“We did, I learned a lot about her. Glad we could spend time with each other.” He muttered as he seen the flash of dark hair in the gardens just outside of the library. This followed with a flash of silver.

His eyes fixated on her as he seen her swing a blade around and began to practice movements and attack methods. Around her were the dark blue roses that he asked for but the true beauty was the one with the blade. Macrinus noticed this and gestured the emperor to go to her. He didn’t need to be told twice, he dropped his scrolls and left the library to meet with her.

************************************************************************

Sabina was so focused on her blades movements that she didn’t realise that Geta was leaning against a pillar,arms crossed. He admired her form with the blade. Hours, days earlier he would have spat at her for using a weapon, and that it brings her back for her thievery roots. But now, he knows this is just how she is.

He admired her form, how the gods made her. How he ended up with her, even thought he knows it was fate still baffles him. He was an emperor, he could have anyone, anything but he has something much more precious.

Sabina.

Brown eyes meet with brown eyes. Before her mind for process who it was, her dark orbs turned to rage and pointed the blade angrily towards him. Showing a look of darkness and determination to execute anyone who stood in her path. Geta, shocked, put his arms up, surrendering quickly.

“Mel” Geta greeted. “I hope you don’t mind that I changed the garden” He glanced around to the fresh new blue roses that surrounded them. “Someone told me that you may have liked these the best.” He really hoped that she would drop the blade. After a few moments, her eyes softened and dropped the blade.

“I do thank you husband.” She muttered. “Roses are my favorite because….”

“Roses that bloom in the saddest of times often grow the toughest thorns to fight” Geta muttered, remembering the quote that Macrinus had read to him moments earlier. It suited the moment really but he needed to learn more about her poetry. It flowed off his tongue quite tell.

Sabina cocked a brow at him as she took a step closer, admiring the matching black robe that he worn. “Your familiar with my poetry, must have been hard for you to find it.”

“What do you mean?” Geta asked.

“I mean my father worked hard to make sure you wouldn’t find copies of it, thought you wouldn’t like my writing style.” She looked down. “The most beautiful of things often are hidden and secluded in the deepest of caves, and the few who find it are in pure bliss.”

Geta looked down. “ I found out regardless, but I was concerned where you were after our journey.”

“I was just here, admiring your gift to me. Thank you.” Her eyes were sparkling like the stars,

“It is my pleasure, it was a pleasure to spend the day with you to get to know you better” He took her hand and kissed it softly. Yet he didn’t let go of it though as he went on his knee and reached into his robes where he had the rings of various sizes. He wanted to make it right with her, and this would at least be a start. Sabina’s eyes stared at the ring in his hand and watched as he placed on her left hand’s ring finger. The ring was a perfect fit on the first try.

“For my dulcissima, the Emperess of Rome. A ring to claim you as ruler of Rome, and my wife.”

Her eyes looked at the sapphire, reminiscent of the stars in the sky. Her glance was so quick, but it warmed her heart knowing that Geta had planned to grab the ring himself to give to her. She smiled brightly as she admired the sparkles and glamor the ring given to her. She didn’t say anything to him, her dark eyes did all of the talking as he watched her. He stood up and before he could say anything to her, Sabina pushed her lips against his. She thought on how soft they were. She traced her blade down the side of his neck as he let out a soft whine in response. Yet, he wasn’t complaining, the slow movement did drive him closer to her.

“Do the blades excite you wife? Geta asked. Sabina put the blade down for a moment, embarrassed with the movements. “It is nothing to be embarrassed about, in fact I am willing to explore this further if you wish.”

Sabina felt that he over stepped and shook her head. “Not tonight, thank you for the gift husband, I would like to get to spend more time with you.”

“As do I” Geta tried to not sound disappointed, but he can wait for as long as it takes for her to bed her. He knew he had to learn more about her and her people before she can fully accept him.

Geta went to bed shortly after, falling asleep shortly after. He dreamt of Sabina with her blades against his neck as she slowly rides him. Sure this was a impossible dream now, but it may happen one way or another in the future. At one point, he woke up and noticed his brother staring at something in the middle of the night. Curious, Geta peeked out of the balcony to see Sabina still practicing. She, however was being watched by a cloak of three figures. However, when Geta blinked they were gone. His eyes went to his brother, who watched his wife hungrily. Geta will make it to his best interests that Sabina wont be touched by him.

#emperor geta x oc #stranger things costumes #emperor geta smut #emperor geta imagine #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson x reader #joseph quinn

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ssoapp · 1 day ago

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Trying to understand canon Chloe Bourgeois and her potential future

There are lots of things I adore about Miraculous Ladybug; however, one element that has always confused me is the handling of Chloe Bourgeois post-season 3 (that's right not season 2). One of the most polarizing characters of this show,, you either love her or you hate her. My feelings on the matter are... somewhat complicated. Contrary to most of the fandom's feelings about her, I was actually initially against her redemption when Malediktator came out 6 years ago and was concerned because it felt like such an easy way out for her. She was incredibly cruel and vindictive most of season 1 and was forgiven by Ladybug (which may have enabled her more by Marinette) so easily, but I pushed the thought back into my mind.

Then season 3 came around, and I actually really liked her arc in that one. It felt like it made sense that she would grow more and more spiteful as Ladybug utilized her less and less and it made her more interesting; since she didn't instantly become nice. It felt like the season 3 final was setting up for Chloe to lose everything and somehow would be forced to form meaningful connections or she'd atleast become more of a prominent threat.

But then season 4 rolled around and introduced Zoe and the show started backpeddling on her character sure it might be that she got worse but the show did not communicate this well at all I love when shows do the unexpected in season 3 it very much seemed like a damnation arc was set up for her however as the show went on she became more of a nuisance a caricature of herself now i personally don't believe that Astruc (no she's not based of his bully cause why would he even give her redemption in the first place) hates Chloe but i do believe a redemption for her was planned but then he changed his mind about the idea and started to try and shift her character which was not successful in the eyes of many people. So I accepted the fact that her complexity was thrown out the window and that she would always stay the same, but in her last moments as she left Paris, the episode showcased this specific scene.

If the show truly believed that she was beyond help, WHY DID IT GIVE US THIS SCENE? Then I realized what the show was trying to convey (successfully or not is EXTREMELY debatable). Chloe Bourgeois is a deeply selfish and jaded person, BUT deep down in her heart, the one true thing she always wanted was love and adoration; however, her bitterness and hatred are so strong that they completely cloud her judgment, and she chooses to lash out instead of being vulnerable. So as she goes to get some satisfaction from her favorite victim, she notices the contact of the one person that endured her cruelty for so long, the one person that cared for her and genuinely loved her, and for a moment she hesitates, but her hatred for Marinette completely overpowers the thought, and as she goes to witness her rival's misfortune, Marinette confronts her with the truth: "Nothing! You've lost any and ALL the power over us. You're the one who's ridiculous, Chloé. Utterly ridiculous. Enjoy your trip." And as she sat there on the cold floor of her jet, she realized that she truly has lost everything.

I truly believe that this is Chloe Bourgeois's lowest point. My hope for her in the future is that she does not stay the same old person she usually is, and with her reappearance in the most recent episode, I think she is masking her true feelings.

#mlb #miraculous ladybug #ml #chloe bourgeois #queen bee #ml analysis #miraculous #ml spoilers #miraculoustalesofladybugandcatnoir

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anotherblas · 1 day ago

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i need a fight between annabel and ada

That's something I can't get out of my head. i thought i was getting it in episode 71 but it didn’t happen with the outcome i was expecting!! but maybe season 2 can make my wish come true. I just need to put my thoughts out. i don’t read fastpass episodes so if i’m completely missing the nail just ignore me

Through multiple episodes we see that ada cares A LOT about her looks (from wanting to impress prospero, her breakdown when annabel confronts her when she first manifested, her relationship with Montresor and most recently her flashback with Thomas Tamerlane where he basically sees her only for her body)

Ada's self-worth is deeply rooted in her physical appearance. Her being seen as an attractive, pretty lady with class is what she thinks is her only way of existing and getting loved. She doesn't think she's smart, assuming from her social status and the time she lived in (probably 1930's) she probably didn't get a lot of education.

So she only has her looks, but what would happen if she’s stripped away from that? she’s going to confront the stag while manifesting and from what we were told that’s like the worst idea ever. I honestly don’t see her dying (i feel like that would be such a waste of character) but she could get severely injured, like ending up with some scars in the best case scenario and losing some limb or facial feature in the worst one. That could be the beginning of her breaking point, losing her “only worth” or atleast the key to getting what she wants… while Annabel ends up without a scratch.

I feel that her relationship with Annabel will change after this whole stag arc. I can even picture the outburst even if nothing bad happens to Ada.

Let's suppose the night passes, everyone makes it out alive and Ada reunites with Annabel. i can totally see Ada wanting validation and gratitude from Annabel, getting recognized as the loyal best friend she thinks she is. But Annabel doesn’t see her that way and never will. To her, Ada is just another piece in her plan, as a matter of fact she’s probably a bit annoyed that Ada interrupted her encounter with the stag after seeing that it wasn’t a threat to her. She will not thank her, or at least not in the important, dramatic way Ada wants her to.

I want them to fight, and not only because i love drama. To me the only way Ada will grow as a character is if she’s alone. A fight with Annabel will immediately put her in risk in the group. Prospero doesn’t like her for obvious reasons and is starting to consider Annabel a friend so he’ll side with her, Will can’t tolerate her so he would want her out but he’ll side with whatever Montresor wants. Montresor wants Ada for the same reasons as Annabel, he sees her as a piece in his plans, someone he can manipulate. But between her or Annabel, he’ll most likely choose the one who has blackmail on him.

Ada being on her own could be the beginning of her valuing herself, starts to accept the way she is, stops pretending and just realizes how much power she holds. At least for now she’s probably one of the students with the most threatening spectre and after her fight with the stag i wouldn’t be surprised if she starts to believe it. I can’t see her joining the misfits just now because it would be (in my opinion) kinda weird that they would accept her after everything that happened with Duke. I honestly don’t even care for her redemption arc. If her growth as a character means that she’ll become an antagonist to Lenore, Annabel and everyone else I'll take it without thinking twice.

Ada with confidence in her powers, in herself, could be a real menace. After all, what’s the point of being in a group if there’s only one life at stake?

#nevermore webtoon #nevermore webcomic #nevermore ada #nevermore annabel lee #nevermore lenore #nevermore montresor #nevermore prospero #nevermore season 2 #oh don't mind me i'm just pucking my thoughts #i have ada brainrot #if nothing of this happens that's going to be so embarrasing omg

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sharklovingaquarist · 2 days ago

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No @anomalys-bane you do have a point. I have many posts that concern the reproductive process and our wording of it. It always relies on the perception of a female vessel being done to by a male catalyst. You are the machine he operates. If men are feeling gracious, they'll say you're the goddess of life or whatever bullshit, but then word it as if they grant us permission to our "power to create life." I often talk about how I am going into zoological fields and how I am invested in animal hobbies (including breeding animals). The male ego is so vast, so prevalent, that a vocabulary does not exist to properly describe this process. I try my hardest, but academically, my hands are tied. I know later on I'll be corrected for not following the science made to make men feel more important than they are. More in control than they are. More credible and powerful. Fertilization, I try to replace with conception. We now know that eggs choose sperm, but that will never be integrated into our dialog as scientists. It's been a male field, it continues to be so. Women who enter don't question, I feel as if they actually enjoy this view of themselves bestowed to them by male overlords. As for "impregnation," I try to avoid seeing pregnancy as a direct action of a male and more as a process. Conception is male, "impregnation" is not. We become pregnant when an embryo attaches to our uterus, not when a sperm enters our uterus. Pregnancy is not an action done to by the male, it is a result of two people acting together. I refuse to see it as a man putting an embryo inside of me. He ejaculates inside of a woman so his sperm can meet her egg, not so he can impregnate her. The wording makes it seem as if she has no effort in the matter, when eggs are a more complex gamete than sperm is.

Basically, our view is heavily male centered. Most things are. It's miserable being in this field.

Edit: I feel as if I should provide an explanation for my take on female creation being the wrong way of viewing gestation. You have to see the process for how it is. People on the one side must stop acting as if female bodies are tools, and people on the other side must stop glorifying the female body in an inhuman, deified way. It is neither of the two radical ideas. Females do not create life through pregnancy. Females and males create life through conception (albeit NOT sentience, this is a process, after all. Sentience is achieved by an individual after birth). A bird chick forms away from a female in an egg. The truth of pregnancy is that it closely resembles parasitism. It's not a perfect definition because it can benefit females in the case of a healthy, stable-minded female spreading her genetics (impossible in our modern society imo). However, my point is that the fetus leeches nutrients from the female body. The female body is a nutrient source, not a machine that stitches together arms, legs, and a torso. The embryo is able to build parts to its body because of the nutrients it steals. The true power of female reproduction comes from our ability to withstand this. Endurance. But males are unable to eat their pride and admit this proves our capability, so then we become either vessels or artistic creators. We can not be strong in the same sense they are.

The female body should strive to be neutral. Not an inferior, not a deity. The fact is women have had their identities repressed for so long that we have no idea how to stay in the lines of humanity. I will say, though, that the women who glorify their female bodies are much MUCH better than those who see it as inferior. It is just a nitpick I have

#radical feminism #feminism #radblr #womens rights #radical feminist safe #radical feminists do interact #radical feminist community #abortion #pro choice #radical feminst

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baambied · 3 hours ago

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𓎤𓍯𓂃 𝑺𝑨𝑽𝑬 𝑨 𝑯𝑶𝑹𝑺𝑬, 𝑹𝑰𝑫𝑬 𝑨 𝑪𝑶𝑾𝑮𝑰𝑹𝑳 !

𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔

cw nsfw (at end) cursing sevika is intimidati reader is clumsy oral(reader rec) riding strap(reader) dirty talk reader described to have kinky curls

cowboy!sevika ✗ bartender!reader

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ - who has on all the proper - and cliche cowboy western clothes. . . her blue denim jeans hugging her tight, muscular thighs (and ass) those big chunky belts with a lasso hanging on the side of it . . scruffy cowboy boots and, of course, her signature brown cowboy hat sitting on her head - but her best look had to be when she's working on the field on her farm, a thin tank top on her muscular build, sweat dripping down her skin as the hot sun beamed down on her - she could feel the burning eyes of the women who walked by. . . sevika, being the flirt she is, would turn to them with a cocky like smirk on her face saying, "y' like what you see darlin' ?"

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ - who has a deep southern accent - her already husky , deep voice coming off as 10x charming when she spoke - hearing a thick southern drawl.

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ - who's absolutely great with animals - owns about 4 horses that she cares deeply for, cleaning there stable every week , making sure they have fresh hay . . . her main horse is named Big Dice (which correlates to her love of gambling) she got the horse when she was only 17 years old, and the now mare horse had been her best pal ever since.

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ - who is also the intimidating sheriff in her town, inheriting the big role after her father retired about 9 years ago. . . intimidating not only due to her hard demeanor but the amount of crimes and bandits she caught around the area for the past years. You thinking about stealing from the farm market? to bad sevika already as you in cuffs . . thinking about stealing from the old little southern lady who sells eggs every tuesday? too late, sevika already has you behind bars.

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ - who isn't only well known for her family name and being the sherif . . .but also by being a huge flirt with the women - she was well known for having a way with the lady's and some men in town couldn't help but be envious at that fact how sevika barely tried anything and had women falling at her boots.

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ - who says she just aint ready to be tied down just yet, she liked the way her life was already - or she was just used to it. . . there was no woman that had that much power to turn her head and get her to start thinking about marriage and babies.

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ -who is the bull riding champion in her town - with her good flexibility , coordination, and quick reflexes , no one can stand a chance against her. . . even though bull riding was dangerous, she liked the adrenaline rush of it, the cheers of her name, and showing how much courage she has , not everyone would willingly ride a bull.

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ - who gives free horse riding lessons to the kids around town.

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ - who has a back tattoo that says "born to ride" with designs that go down her arms, got it without her parents knowing when she was just 18 years old.

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ - who is an absolute gentleman (or gentlewoman) , so amazingly patient, great listener , and if she's at a bar with a woman she's the one who offers to pay (not even offering just immediately throwing money down or saying "naw - you aint gotta pay honey - put it on my tab sugar" ) no matter how intimidating she may look she's actually a kind, selfless , considerate the list goes on and on - (to women atleast) she truly is the picture perfect partner . .

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ - who likes to wear those slutty shirts that aren't to cropped but just the right length to show off her v line , showing off her nice figure and small waist.

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ - who goes to the bar in her town every friday night - where she has free time , sipping on a jug of beer while playing a game of cards with her close pals.

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ - who can actually bake very well, has a book filled with her old family recipes that go years back - like pecan pies , peach cobbler, different types of cakes, and breads. . . and she has a major sweet tooth.

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ - who has a scar on the right side of her cheek due to falling off her horse roughly while chasing a herd of coyotes away. Slightly insecure because of it , any time a woman would ask about it , or even reach to touch it out of pure curiosity her mood immediately decreased - getting uncomfortable with the sudden attention on her scarred cheek.

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ - who is the definition of a 'sweet talker' . . this woman knows all the right things to say, all the right moves to do that would make a anyone shudder under one simple touch. . .or her simple gaze.

"what's a pretty little lady like you doin' all alone here?" the sudden deep, velvet smooth southern voice entered the woman's ears - she was sitting at the bar alone while swirling a plastic straw in her sweet non alcoholic drink, boredom shown on her body as she sat there quietly.

but the sudden voice entering her ears made her startled , wipping her head around her eyes were meant by the sight of the town sheriff - sevika.

her cheeks couldn't help but grow pink at the sight of the well beloved woman of the town, here with her signature brown, scruff cowboy hat, piercing silver eyes staring at her with an intense gaze as her lips held a lit blunt between them - - the most recognizable figure in the town . . . her commanding strong presence seen from miles away.

"cat got ya' tongue sugar?" sevika voice heard once more - this time with a shit - eating grin on her lips.

the woman blinked for a moment and slowly shook her head. "n-no . . just surprised, is all"

"my i ask why that is?" sevika gruff voice asked as she took a seat next to the woman at the bar, blunt hanging loosly from her lips as she blew out smoke, creating a cloud of smoke in front of her.

"to be talkin' to you, that's all - never talked to the sheriff before" the woman responds with a soft laugh, sevika couldn't help but laugh at her sentence and tone "I'm waitin' on someone.." the woman responded sheepishly.

"husband?" the tall muscular sheriff questioned,"left you at a crowded bar? all alone . . . .well, that's just no good... no good at all. . ."

"h- he's not my husband jus' someone I've been. . . foolin' round with, " the woman responded before downing the rest of her drink as if it was a shot - sevika couldn't help but chuckle at her actions.

after a moment of a small silence, the woman hopped up out of her stool, clearing her throat and swallowing thickly when she heard sevika's voice once more.

"gon' go and leave me like this doll? i was just about to buy you a drink. . ." sevika's sentence coming out as smooth as silk satin sheets, like she's said this same sentence plenty of times in her life.

"i- i no!- you can buy me a drink , i don't mind none. ." the woman stuttered out with pink cheeks.

"i see you don't drink, no alcohol? the non-alcoalic options here aren't that good doll. . . i have better at my own home. ."

next thing that woman knew she was in sevika's dark red sheets, doing unholy acts she never thought in her lifetime she'd do - especially with a woman but she didn't mind. . . her mind not once thinking of the man named Billy, who walked in the bar with his big brown eyes looking around for her.

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ - who is an absolute green thumb, if she ain't cleaning or taking care of her beloved animals on her farm, she's growing plants - usually containing different varieties of vegetables.

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ - has a red / slightly dirty due to constantly being in the field and dirt pickup truck truck.

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ - who is currently playing cards with her pals, on a late friday night , and of course, she's the one winning like always . . . to lost in the game, not noticing the tumbling figure coming near her.

one moment her pants were dry , and the next they were soaking wet - and no, not in that way. . . the silence in the bar was quite evident as the only sound being heard was a tray and a few glasses dropping the floor.

sevika's blue denim jeans were now soaked in beer, the smell making it ways in her nose as she let out a seething sigh - her good mood ruined in an instant, she doesn't look at the server who happen to drop the tray as she slowly stood up, dropping her cards on the table. . . her friends looking up at her wide eyes filled with nervousness, knowing sevika has a short temper..

sevika turned her gaze to spilled beer on the wooden floor. She could hear the whispers coming from people nearby at other tables, finally her gaze meeting the person who caused this. . . and suddenly, her gaze, which was once intense and piercing suddenly softened - ever so slightly. . . with a slight wave of curiosity.

her eyes staring at the young woman who also fell with the tray in her hands. . . .you.

her gaze now so sharp and penestrating, burning holes through your figure almost trying to find out who you were or even examine - you didn't look like you've ever stepped foot in texas and yet . . here you are.

you, on the other hand, looked up at the tall , buff women with stunned wide eyes. . . the intensity of her stare made you feel both mesmerized and to be completely intimidated, but she was genuinely one of the most beautiful people who've ever seen in your whole lifetime. . .her tight, slightly short shirt showing off her v line, the brown cowboy hat sitting up on her head as her hair was tied back, and her tight denim jeans that wrapped around her thighs like they were made for her - oh....oh! there wet?? why are they..

"Oh! oh no!" you exclaimed, slowly realizing the situation."It looks like you peed your pants!" Your sentence slipping its way through your lips before your brain could process it.

murmurs from people around you caught your attention, slightly glancing around. You could feel the embarrassment slowly sinking in your body - but you weren't the only one, sevika silently gritting her teeth at your sentence as she averted her stare, feeling embarrassed by the whole situation. . . by now. . . usually she'd snap, telling someone off but. . . she'd never speak to a woman like that. . .especially one that looked as gorgeous as you.

"i-im sorry! i didn't mean to say that - i mean, i did, but in my head, y'know? I'm sorry, i really am! i told my parents to not let me serve- i can't believe this. ." you rambled as you quickly stood up from the floor, but nervous gaze still staring at the wooden floor covered in beer, fidgeting with your fingers due to nervousness, unnoticeably to you the tall woman was already out the door.

"and! uhhh. . . i can get you new pants if you'd like. . . just. . . my size probably won't fit you, you seem really tall-" your sentence came to halt as you grew the confidence to look up at the buff woman only to be meant with, absolutely nobody.."oh..? uh?"

your head twist around in all directions "did she- leave?"

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ - who wakes up with a soft knock on her front door, going to answer it, her straight face mourning to a short shocked one for a split moment , what were you doing at her door?

sevika stared at you, observing you intently . . . your pretty kinky curls in a high bun, she liked how the strands fell framing your face. . the pretty yellow sun dress hugging your figure and in your hands was a box filled with 8 jars of milk.

"hello, would you like fresh milk from the - uh cows." Your eyes stared at the floor as your sentence came out dramatically and drained.

"i have my own cows. ." sevika answered with slight amusement. . you looked up in curiosity and immediately your eyes go wide "you!. ." You exclaim, holding a pointer finger, only letting out a tiny squeel as the box of milk nearly fell from your hands.

"You were the one that disappeared last night!"

sevika silently stared at you, she couldn't help the slight smirk tugging on her face. . .she couldn't help but think you're absolutely and pretty as a peach - genuinely a real looker, and the simple fact she now realized you has no accent - you sounded that maybe you were from . . the city. . New York?

"can you - buy my milk please?" Your question coming out more desperately than you expected.

"Your. . . milk?" sevika questioned your wording with small smirk... "Why would i do that after the incident you caused last night?"

you gulped thickly at her, not just at her sentence but voice in general. . . .the deep southern drawl in her husky gruff voice nearly made your knees falter.

"-please? I've been walking for 20 minutes, and no one wants milk.."

sevika scoffed "20 minutes? darlin' . . .the original milk seller walks these streets for hours, and you - little sweet thing is done after 20 minutes?"

you couldn't help but suck your teeth at her words, looking to the side for a bit with a small pout on your plump lips.

"it's too hot! the sun is beaming and my throat is dry- oh! do you have some iced tea? since you won't buy my milk you can atleast offer me a drink."

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ - who declines at first, but finally let's you in her home for a glass of lemon iced tea after your dramatic begging - she has never meant anyone as dramatic and almost theatrical as you.

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ - who watches as you happily sip on the iced teas through a plastic straw, sitting in a wooden stool in her kitchen and my god you just wouldn't stop talking - were you genuinely this curious?

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ - who's interest perks up when you ask if she has horses. .

"Hey, wait - you're a cowgirl, right? do you have a horse?"

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ - sevika who's intense gaze stared at you as you pet her horse with excitement - her eyes hiding an unspoken and unfamiliar emotion. . . she had never had another woman interested in her animals on the farm , most women in the town were far to "prissy" to want to ride horses and anything of the sort. . . so it came to a supirse when you - who had told her you were from the city , petting her horse with such excitement.

"wow! she's gorgeous, her colors and spots are so unique! I've never seen a horse in real life. This is so awesome. .I've always wanted to learn how to ride. ."

sevika's eyebrow perked up at your words "you wanna ride?"

you swiftly turn to her and nod with a smile, hands still in the horses hair.

sevika nodded, her next words coming out husky and deep almost as if it had a double meaning. ."i can teach you how to ride. . .darlin' "

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ - who spends her next few weeks with you, propping you carefully and safely on one of her horses with a saddle. . . .teaching you how to ride. The process started slow at first, it was hard for you since you genuinely had no experience with anything like this - but you always had so much fun especially with sevika who's flirty words never failed to make you all warm and squirmy.

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ - who slowly learned more and more about you as the weeks go by, and you learning more about her. . you couldn't imagine the shock you felt when she revealed she was actually the sheriff of the town, immediately thinking to the night you spilled beer on her pants you couldn't help but apologize to her once more.

"sheriff! you!?. . . i spilled a beer all over a sheriff? I'm so sorry!"

"it ain't nothin' to worry about sugar. .i forgive you, " her voice came out in a teasing manner.

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ - who is now confused about how her chest gets warm whenever she'd see you laugh, how she'd automatically smile whenever she saw you smile, the sudden feeling hitting her like a ton of bricks when she realized that she wanted to spend more time with you - that didn't just consist of just teaching you how to ride her horse, but . . . . more.

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ - who doesn't even realize how she is automatically turning down any woman that would came up to her.

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ - who is sitting on a comfty leather couch with a glass of whiskey in her hand, the high picked up music in her ears as the sound of people shoes moved around the wooden floor - it was the town annual rodeo a lively time for the people in town, singing, dancing, good grilled foods. . . the annual bull riding contest had just ended, and now everyone was together in the biggest bar in town - sevika ofcourse winning and celebrating her victory with alcohol and a game of cards.

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ - who feels her heart skip a beat when her eyes catches your figure across the room - huge smile on your face as you chatted it up with some other ladies - she felt as if she was being drawn to you, like a magnet . . . your whole existence suddenly making her life more warm, and softer...

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ - who feels her feet moving in their own, striding across the floor, moving around the dancing people - she felt like it took centuries to finally reach you. . . you suddenly stopping mid conversation with the sweet woman beside you, your eyes lighting up immediately at the sight of the towns sheriff.

"sevika! i was tryna find you everywhere - i saw you riding on that bull that was so cool. . something I've never seen before in my whole lifetime - ohh?.." your sentence coming to a halt when you feel a soft thump on top of your head.

suddenly, cheers could be heard all around you people wooping and hollering, even the women around you squealing in excitement.

sevika had just put her cowboy hat on your head, in a swift motion - her larger hand now holding out to you waiting foe you to take it. . . your wide eyes staring at her in shock - before you came to the south you've heard of things like this . . .the gesture that seemed small meant so much more , her putting her hat on you was meant or considered a flirty gesture or signifying that she had intrest in you- or in other words. . .

she was "claiming" you by letting you wear something so personal to her.

"claiming" you for the night..

and no matter how many women sevika has been with , not one has been given the honor to wear her hat. . . . all except you.

"can i get a dance sugar?"

slowly, you nod as you bring your hand in hers, her hand gently wrapping around yours with ease.

"atta girl. ."

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ - is so fucking experience when it comes to sex, she knows all the right ways to touch you , all of your sensitive spots , and knows just what to do to get you off. . .when you ask her how shes so good at this. . she just answers with "cowgirls fuck better"

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ - her favorite position is either between your legs, or you moving up and down on her strap - riding her to get or self off without sevikas help. . . . she eats your pussy as if it's her last meal on earth, as if you'd disappear from her at any moment. . and she's so fucking messy with it, her gray eyes droopy as she keeps eye contact and head moving side to side as her pink muscles lays flat on your wet cunt.

"a-ah! p-please. . ." Your hips shake under sevika's movement, you taking everything in yourself to not break eye contact with her - she says if you do, she'd immediately stop.

"hmmmm so sweet mama. ." sevika hummed against your cunt, her half lidded eyes staring up at you with a glint in them - as if she was waiting for you to break. . . her pink muscle flicking your clit in a fast pace, the sudden action making you head tilt back.

"so- so good! ahhh. ." You whine out with your hips rolling up for more friction - you let out a cry as you felt a harsh slap on the side of your thigh, the feeling on your cunt going away as you shudder feeling the cold wind hit your wet sensitive cunt - she pulled away.

"I'm sorry. . .please. ."

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ - She loves spanking, especially when you're reverse cowgirl, watching as you bounce on her thick, veiny strap while a blunt hands loosley from her lips, her large hand constantly slapping your ass causing you to whine everytime at the harsh contact.

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ - loves dirty talk , when she has you in doggy style she'd lean down to you ear whispering how good your taking her from behind - and how much of a mess youre making on her sheets. . all while calling you those little sweet pet names that you swoon over "darlin' " "sugar" "sweet thing"

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ - who loves worshipping your body - she knows how to appreciate such gorgeous and beautiful things. . . kissing you, you down your body, saying how gorgeous and pretty you are, and how she can't wait to have you moaning her name.

cowboy!sevikadrabble +18

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