#❅ [GENERAL] ANSWERED // i make NO APOLOGIES for my muses.

[superblysubpar]

return to main menu // steve’s music

Honey, On Your Knees

steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: Your husband and you get nasty in a church…again. // This fic is a part of my "Her Body Is Bible" AU - you can find the first story and more here // NSFW 18+

the song: Holy by King Princess

2.5k words

warnings: warnings from prev fic still apply // religious themes, and the holiday Christmas being celebrated // As with part one, you’ll be blocked - nobody is forcing you to read this // Mentions of trying to get pregnant // Alcohol mentions and use by reader // SMUT (oral - reader receiving, public, steve is kind of edging us a little if you squint) // My blog is 18+

A/N: originally requested for an event, I combined two requests from an anon and @djoswiftie - thanks for your patience 💛. The prompts were [APOLOGY: a kiss offered as a way to apologize or make amends] / [FLASH: one muse “accidentally” flashes the other] -- maybe not in the way you think FYI // [NECK: a kiss or gentle sucking on neck] / [PALM: one muse palms the other muse’s penis/breasts through clothes]

He hadn’t meant to say it. 

The house was warm, the low murmur of relatives catching up while silverware clinked together mixed with Nat King Cole crooning out of the stereo. Mashed potatoes heaped by spoonfuls onto plates, kids’ new toys scattered in a rush once the ham was carved, and soon wine started to be poured for those of age.

Vivian Harrington simply smiled as you told her none for you and moved on, but the same couldn’t be said for others at the table. 

“Not drinking, huh? Are you pregnant?” 

If his scotch drunk uncle jumped over the line of appropriate, Steve ignored it all together, replying hopefully and without thought. 

“No…not yet!”

He hadn’t meant to say it. 

Your eyes widened, jaw tensed as you huffed out a breath through your nose. Steve’s cheeks flushed, and the table erupted into chaos, terribly intimate questions directed towards you. 

“Oh! Are you trying?! How exciting!”

“When you are, make sure Stephen here does everything. It’s the least he can do.”

“How long have you been trying? Don’t give up, Ben and I took two years, but look at us now…”

“How many do you want?”

“Are you still going to work?”

“Kids? So soon?”

“Who’s having a baby? Uncle Steve?!”

“Vivian?” You called, flagging Steve’s mom over.

You took the bottle of previously passed on wine and gave yourself a more than generous pour, and Steve whispered, “Baby, I thought that alcohol could affect your…”

The look you gave him had his mouth closing quickly, keeping his concern about ovulation and hormones to himself. You turned away from him, then answered every single question with grace and a grip on the glass that made Steve gulp around his own drink. 

Eventually, the table settled into topics that gave you a small reprieve. 

Steve leaned closer, lips almost to the apple of your cheek and you turned, so his kiss was cut off, mouth parted in surprise as he blinked at you. He spoke softly, fingers reaching for yours as he did, “I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“Should we give you two some privacy?” A quip and waggled eyebrows from the other side of the table, and you plastered on a perfect smile and faked a laugh, poured yourself more wine and Steve’s shoulders deflated. 

You still hadn’t spoken to him. Dinner passed, and then dessert, and then coats were being pushed on and kids wrangled into cars for the midnight service. 

Steve managed to get you close to him in the very backseat of one of the vehicles. He kept his eyes on your profile as you stared straight ahead. 

“Are you going to ignore me the entire night? I’m sorry,” he started, voice low. 

Your gaze turned to him finally and your chest ached from how apologetic he looked. And honestly, you were over it as quickly as it happened, and the glasses of wine helped, and you were ready to say so. But then Steve’s fingers brushed your knee, up and down and back up your thigh. They nudged at the hem of your skirt, testing. His other fingers curled around your neck, words dipping even lower, soft and for only your ears. 

“How else can I tell you I’m sorry, honey?”

Steve’s thumb swiped down your neck, soothing and far too close to your racing pulse. It’d been sort of easy for him lately, and the thrill of making him think you were mad, the chance to make him sweat a little, to work for it, had your underwear growing wet. 

“We can talk about it later, when we get home,” you whispered, sternly. 

Steve nodded earnestly, until your fingers curled into your skirt, until the red, green and gold fabric pulled higher and higher. Your eyes remained on his until he had to look down, to see your black tights were not tights, but stockings. A sliver of supple skin revealed between plaid skirt and where they ended high on your thigh. The black lace disappearing as quickly as it was shown to him as your skirt dropped again, fanning nicely over your thighs.  

His tongue swiped over his lip, adams apple bobbing. He cleared his throat, voice a warning, “Baby-”

The car pulled to a stop, and you were out on the pavement with his family, heading into the church before he’d really even caught his breath. 

He watched you hang your coat, and help his nieces and nephews with theirs. His eyes traveled from the black heels up the black stockings that he now knew ended under your pretty Christmas skirt, curved around your thighs delicately and sinfully. He swallowed at the sight of red velvet over your breasts, at the memory of what happened last time you were here. 

It was easy to slip away as churchgoers caught up over coffee and doughnuts before the service, as kids became preoccupied in the Sunday school rooms with toys. You made your way down a dark hallway under the guise of the bathroom, and had to bite down on your smile as an arm slunk around your waist and pulled you into a room silently and quickly. 

Only lit by the soft light of the navy sky and moon outside, the room was obviously rarely used, a place for mismatched and forgotten things. Steve spun to face you, his fingers behind him clicking the lock closed with a barely audible, but still noticeable click. 

“Yes?” You prompted, folding your arms over your chests and hiding your delight at the way the movement made his eyes flit down to your breasts. 

Steve crossed the room in quick strides, hands finding your hips and tugging you to him gently as he spoke with sincerity. 

“Angel,” his nose traced down the bridge of yours, before he kissed the tip of it, “I’m sorry.” He kissed your cheek, your jaw, the corner of your lips before he pulled away enough to look into your eyes again, so you could see how truly sorry he was. 

“I really didn’t mean to say it, it slipped out. I’m just so excited, and I didn’t even think…” 

“I know,” you offered quietly, as your fingers slipped into his hair, curling stray and unruly pieces behind his ears. Your eyes remained focused on your adjustments, sure that if you looked at his eyes for longer than two seconds, you’d forget you were “mad” and fuck him in a church again. You’d break and he’d have barely worked for it. 

Steve knew this, you think. 

Because your eyes caught the subtle twitch of his lips, the fake deep sigh, the way his head leaned forward until he was at your ear. Hot breath hitting skin in a way that had goosebumps exploding over your entire body, his voice sultry and low as he asked, “Can I make it up to you?”  

“Steve…” your half-hearted start to a protest you didn’t want to give lost as he dipped lower, pressing silk lips to your neck. 

His palms brushed over the curve of your breasts, they skated down your sides, lower and lower to your hips. As your head fell back, they circled to your ass, grabbing generous handfuls and squeezing as his breath grew sharper against your collarbone. Parted lips dragging across it, the tentative trail of his tongue warm and testing. 

“We…we’re in a church,” you gulped around the words, his kisses traveling up the column of your throat now as he nudged your feet backwards. 

“Didn’t stop us the last time.” Steve’s voice was shot, a goner the minute you showed him the stockings. 

Men were too easy. 

Your legs hit a couch arm, and Steve’s fingers grabbed for your jaw gently, thumb pulling at your chin so you had to look at him. Both of your chests moved rapidly, anticipating, as you fell deeper and deeper into the moss and honey in his iris’ - lost in the forest, stuck in the sticky trap. 

His other hand roamed to the hem of your skirt, pads of his fingers buzzing over the skin above the stockings as he pulled the fabric higher. His head cocked in a way that said he knew what he was doing, the ghost of a smile on his lips telling you he knew that you weren’t mad, not really, but he’d play your game anyways.  

“Let me make you feel good, honey,” his lips brushed over yours as he spoke. The chatter of people filling the chapel right outside grew louder, but his voice remained even and soft, “It’s the least I can do, don't you think?”

Maybe you were easy too.  

Because you were nodding, and he was easing you down onto the couch. Steve knelt before you, watching you carefully, hungry, as he pulled your heels from your feet, letting them fall to the ground. 

Your palms pressed to the cushion behind you as he lifted a leg, your words swallowed and caught somewhere in your chest with your breath as he kissed your ankle bone through the thin material. Steve kept his eyes on you, warm and greedy as he kissed up your calf, at your knee until he was at the top of the thigh high. He gently laid your leg back down, and then pulled at your waist until you were at the edge of the seat. 

“You gonna be quiet for me?” 

The nod of your head was pitiful, putty in his hands and from his words as he flipped your skirt up. Steve’s lips pressed kisses to the inside of your thighs, sweet and in a slow way that had heat rising to your cheeks. Your body hot, spine turning to liquid as he nudged his nose into the damp black silk covering you, as his fingers curled into the waistband. 

Steve pulled them from you, sighing at the way they stuck to your lips. He slipped them down your legs, never letting his eyes leave the space between your thighs. He was taking his time, drinking you in with his eyes in a dirty gaze that had your entire body tightening, making you want him more than you ever had, erasing any sort of rationality or thoughts from your brain other than him and this.

His fingers tugged at your hips, squeezing possessively until a whine bubbled out of you, his name a desperate whisper, barely audible over the choir singing. 

He hummed when you spread your legs wider for him, pressing against the couch as he leaned in. His hands roamed down and back up your thighs, until they were spreading you. 

His thumbs held you apart, mouth a ghost over your cunt. Hot breath exhaled against slick lips that had your toes curling and your lungs somehow forgetting how to take in air. He had you on the ledge, and he hadn’t even started. 

Steve pushed closer, the tip of his nose a slow drag through your slit, his lips skimming over your folds behind it, tasting, testing.

His tongue finally made contact with you, a long, slow lick from your entrance to just below your clit, making you wait, making your fingers dig into the cushion and your eyes look towards the heavens.  

Steve did it again, painfully slow, the hot and wet glide of his tongue along you sinful. Over and over, flat, broad strokes of it, tasting every bit of you except for your clit, getting you higher and higher, closer to bliss without giving it to you.  

You were throbbing, an insistent and buzzing pulse under your skin demanding to be felt, demanding to break. It felt like your ears were crackling with static like the speakers the pastor was now giving his sermon in. 

Steve lifted on your hips that wiggled, caressing over the top of your ass. He stopped his movement with his tongue, panting over your cunt, letting his mouth hover against your glistening lips. 

Your chest grew heavier with each rise and fall of labored breathing as you watched Steve’s tongue flick out, tracing the curves of you and letting his nose drag and nudge behind it. Teasing and taunting, pulling every last drop of want out, your body taut and ready to snap. 

Then he looked up at you.

His cheeks flushed pink, and pupils blown wide, lit up in glittering moonlight streaming in through old and warped glass, he looked like something holy and angelic between your thighs. As if he were worshiping you, praying on his knees at your feet.

The grip he had on your hips shifted, pushing down your thighs and spreading you wider, and his voice was raspy as he asked, “You forgive me?”

Your head nodded once, fingers reaching for his hair to pull him closer, desperate for his mouth to be back on you. Your own voice shot, a pitiful whine as you begged him, “Please, need your-ohmygod.”

Steve’s spit hit your clit, making your thighs go to snap close, but his palms held you open forcefully. He wasn’t an angel worshiping, he was unholy, he was sin, he was filthy as he kept eye contact with you and dipped his mouth over you again. 

His lips molded around your pulsing nerves, tongue flicking out in a rhythm that had your entire body lit up, vibrating, fraying and sparking. His hands pushed at your thighs that resisted him, he moaned against you as you fell forward. Your fingers yanking in his hair as your hips moved against his face. 

Steve’s exhale was sharp as he released, sinking lower and dragging his tongue over your slit again. He was faster now, keeping his tongue flat against you as he lapped at your cunt, nose nudging against your clit over and over again as you rocked against it. 

“Fuck, Ste-,” your hand slapped over your mouth and your eyes widened, but Steve didn’t let up. You tugged on his hair, whimpering, and his hand rose, finger pulling at your pouting bottom lip until you were parting for him. You moaned around the black silk he shoved into your waiting mouth. 

He doubled down then, tongue prodding at your entrance, fast and precise licks up to your clit he kept working at with his nose. Steve’s heavy lidded gaze up at you had you crying out around the fabric, your chest crumpling over his head as you grinded down against his nose, unraveling for him. 

Tears pricked behind your eyes, skin hot as you came around nothing but his tongue, he hadn’t even slipped a finger into you. Steve held your waist now as you arched, letting your thighs finally close around his face as he licked over you, humming against your sensitive nerves as he greedily took in everything you gave him. 

He pulled away eventually, nose and lips skimming down your thigh until he was at your stockings. He pressed his cheek to your knee and looked up at you. Your underwear pulled from your mouth and crumpled in your fingers, your eyelashes fluttered as you tried to keep your eyes open, chest rising and falling ragged. You looked at him under your straining eyelids, warmth and affection and something far too sweet for what you two just did behind your gaze. 

The choir was singing again, Silent Night, and your fingers pressed to your lips, hiding a smile and a giggle.

He hadn’t meant to say it, but he was kind of glad he did. 

[two-white-butterflies]

coaxed you into paradise - c. 30

Description: The life of Saera Targaryen told in four acts. She was her father's forgotten daughter, cast aside as she looked nothing like her mother. Her younger days were spent beside her uncle. Years following her marriage with Ser Harwin Strong, she catches him in an affair with her older sister. She returns to seek solace in the arms of her uncle, that she's loved all her life.

TW: death, murder, sexual assault, assault in general.

(Coaxed You Into Paradise and High Infidelity Rewrite.)

masterlist for this series

Chapter Thirty: Blood and Cheese II

The Dragons descended into Westeros with avarice, and with avarice their dynasty continues onwards. Blood against blood, dragons against dragons. The Targaryens have conquered the six-kingdoms, yet their their biggest enemy is themselves.

Alyssa, the princess was always drawn to the ocean. She liked the feel of the waves on her knees, the rough sand on her barefoot. She holds her son, Aelor, close to her bosom. "Where could your father have trailed off to?" she mused, staring deep into her son's eyes.

Aemond days ago.

Alicent would not provide her a clear answer.

Cordelia peeks through the small curtain that hid Alyssa's body. "The Queen calls for you, princess." she bowed. Alyssa's eyebrows merged into each other. "It is far too early in the morning for conversation," she smiled, hoping to dismiss the handmaiden.

"I-I, well the Queen was very firm. It would be best to follow her, princess." the handmaiden stuttered, knowing something that her lady did not. A creature of doubt builds inside of her ribcage. Alyssa was no stranger to war.

Her real father, Daemon Targaryen, fought thousands of them before she was whelped into the world. "Is it important?" her frown deepened and the handmaiden nods. "Very well, prepare my gown and take good care of Prince Aelor." she commanded while rising to her feet.

A dragon does not cower behind the four walls of her bedroom. She fights all her battles, the same.

Alyssa takes a step forward, entering the threshold of her good-mother's bedroom. There were pastries scattered on the table, a warm cup of tea waiting for her.

"Your grace." she curtsied, then licking her chapped lips. "Alyssa, how kind of you to join me." Alicent smiled with a knowing stare. There was something behind those brown irises that unnerved her. "Have you seen Prince Aemond?" she inquired with a cautious tone.

"Your grandfather is dead and the soldiers march for war against Rhaenyra." Alicent says frankly, no longer interested in sugar-coating her words. A gasp escapes her mouth. King Viserys was dead? "I have sent my son away to make negotiations with House Baratheon." she adds, her eyes filled with much more sorrow than usual.

Alyssa tries to calm herself down, but her heart was filled with anger.

"You thought it would be fit to usurp the rightful Queen?" she questioned, still trying to keep her tone soft.

"King Viserys told me before he died, that he changed his mind."

"- thought that Aegon was deserving of his titles." Alicent lied.

Alyssa clenches her fists. "- but that isn't the truth, isn't it?" she argued, wanting nothing more than to jump into the arms of her beloved husband. If Aemond was beside her, she'd convince him - they'd defect and crown the rightful Queen.

"You need not lie to me. If I had been in your shoes, I would've done the very same. It is not everyday that a woman's son becomes King - but even the blind could see that Prince Aegon is not a worthy heir." she presented clear, and offense strikes the Queen Mother's face.

"He is greater than his father. He listens to his advisors." Alicent grits her teeth, unamused at Alyssa's defiance. "- and I assume that you believe yourself to be his advisor." she antagonized. "You were the King's advisor too, but that did not save you. My Queen, I apologize for my brashness, but you do not wish to be free, you merely wish to create a window of your prison." Alyssa scoffed.

Queen Alicent was about to respond, but a knock halts their argument. Her uncle, Lord Larys Strong, marches inside of the chambers. "Queen Alicent, Princess Alyssa." he curtsies, quickly sashaying to Alicent's side.

He leans forward, whispering a few strings of words, but the premise was clear enough for Alyssa.

Prince Lucerys Velaryon was dead, and Aemond had been the one to butcher him.

Saera takes a deep breath, in fear of what Rhaenyra was capable of. "One cannot even imagine the pain she's feeling right now, I fear that she'll do something. She'll want to get even." the White Princess breathes, playing with the bracelet on her wrist.

"- that means that Alyssa and Aelor are in danger?" Daegon inquires, his eyebrows merging into each other. He couldn't bare the thought of harm coming to his twin sister.

Daemon presses his fingers to his lips.

"Rhaenyra will not harm them. We are her strongest allies, losing us could mean losing the war." he gave his informed opinion. "- still, you are right, love. Alyssa and Aelor will not be safe in Kingslanding."

"We are caught in a limbo, then?" her eyes narrowed. "We must get our daughter back, yet we are stuck here - and the mere sound of our arrival could mean death." she takes a sip of her wine.

She was trying to keep up her stone-cold facade, so that her son wouldn't be rattled, but all she wanted to do was cry. Her mind couldn't help but drift off to Alyssa. She must be scared.

Daemon places a tender hand on her shoulder, already aware of the inner workings of her mind. He gives her stare, promising her that everything would be fine in the end. "I have spies in Kingslanding. I'll attempt to have Alyssa back - Aelor, I believe will be safer there."

"We shouldn't involve ourselves in this war, muña. It is between Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Aegon. Let us flee to the Free Cities, take everyone and never return." Daegon suggests.

Daemon glares at his son.

"Dragons do not run with their tails in between their legs. We fight our battles, and Rhaenyra's battle is our own. The same blood flows through our veins." he corrected, wholly understanding of his son's cowardice. "Viserra and Daelon are children, in times of war, horrible things happen to children." Daegon defends.

"But we are here, all of us to protect them. A house united, is a house unbreakable." Saera breathed, and only then did Daegon's eyes softened. "- and when war is over, the dragon feeds."

Aelor's face was soft - almost the same visage as his grandmother. There was a smile on his face, oblivious of the torment that was to ensue, Ser Criston takes a seat beside Alyssa. "He is safe, but not for long." he whispered, so only Alyssa could hear his opinion. "He is guarded by four walls, and a dozen guards. Surely Princess Rhaenyra will not harm us? Not Aelor?" Alyssa frowns, the knight shakes his head. "She may not harm you, but she will harm Prince Aemond's son. She will seek revenge." he scowled.

Alyssa couldn't do anything but blame her husband - her good-mother, and everyone involved in supplanting Princess Rhaenyra. "Then you must make it your personal goal to protect Prince Aelor." she pleaded, staring deep into his honeyed eyes.

"I shall do my best, but it is not a guarantee." Criston bows.

Rhaenyra takes a deep breath, staring at the men in front of her. “Mysaria mustn’t know of this,” she asserted - knowing that the whore was on her sister’s side. “- I want you to execute Prince Aelor.” she commanded, dropping a few gold coins on the table. 

“It will be done, my lady.” the older man replies with a smirk. 

“What’s your name again?” She raised her eyebrows. 

“My name’s Blood.” 

“And I’m Cheese.”

Saera wasn't one to wait for the proper timing. She had her mind set on one goal, and she'd exert all of her efforts into getting it.

"Lady Mysaria, what are you doing here?" Alyssa frowns, holding Aelor close to her chest once more. "There is a clear passage back to Dragonstone, your mother intends for you back within a fortnight." Mysaria informs, taking a step forward.

"What about Bluefyre? Aemond? Aelor?" Alyssa asks.

"You may take Aelor, but the dragon and your husband must remain." Mysaria made a decision of her own. "I cannot leave without them." Alyssa says clearly, hoping to provide salvation for the ones to be left behind. "You forget that it was your husband who betrayed you first." Mysaria articulated, her voice suddenly becoming cold.

Alyssa's heart breaks, recognizing that the woman wasn't lying. "He murdered a child, your cousin." Mysaria attempts to sway the Princess. "- I have not spoken to him since before that night. I'm sure that if we were to have a conversation, things would be clearer." Alyssa defended, it was her right and oath.

When she vowed to marry the One-Eyed Prince, she also vowed to be understanding, to always present alibis when it came to him, and to always be loyal, even when the circumstance proved to be difficult. "I wish that it was that easy, but we do not have much time. We cannot leave right now, but tomorrow - use the secret passages that your uncle taught you. Meet me in Princess Saera's solars, and we shall leave for Dragonstone."

Princess Alyssa couldn't sleep. Her heart was beating rapidly, threatening to come out of her chest. She was tossing and turning, unable to find even a blink of rest. Today, she was a spoil of war - a prisoner in her own home, but tomorrow, mayhaps, she'll be free.

Why must it all come down to this? A year of marriage with her much beloved husband was turning into another tragic tale. Alyssa wished nothing more than to be free of the narrative, to live somewhere where these - things couldn't come near her family.

An object falls loudly on the floor, Alyssa reaches for the dagger underneath her pillow. "Aemond?" she cleared her throat, "Princess," a gruff voice replies, and another man steps into the light. It was not her husband - it was a different man.

He was broad and tall, he had a stubble on his chin. "Who are you?" she pointed the dagger at him. "I'm Blood, and my brother is Cheese. We were sent here to murder your son." he says casually.

"Not him," she shielded her son away from their view. Aelor, was unfortunate enough to be laying beside her on the bed, instead of his own room with the handmaidens. Blood and Cheese must've known, but who could've sent them?

"A son for a son," Blood grins.

A chill ran down her spine.

Princess Rhaenyra?

"What did she pay you, I shall double it?" Alyssa pleaded, vulnerable in her thin nightgown, her body almost bare to the eyes of the intruders. It made her feel dirty, tainted almost.

"Gold does little to deter us, Alyssa." Blood takes a step forward, only a few inches away from her. "Then you'll have to go through me." Alyssa bravely defends. "That will not be hard."

She stands up from the bed, remembering all her lessons with Prince Daemon. Even when she's standing on the bed, her head barely reaches Blood and Cheese's forehead. He tries to move his hand forward, but Alyssa manages to sever his little finger.

"Cunt," Blood mumbled, anger pumping through his veins. He raises his free hand, slapping Alyssa across the face, sending her on her knees. "You are still a little girl eh'. You can't defeat me." he antagonized, commanding his brother to pull her back.

Cheese carries her with ease, dragging her on the floor. "Please I beg of you, if Prince Daemon or my mother finds out about this - no god shall save you." she cursed at them, fighting through Cheese's malevolent hold. "Take me instead, please!" she screamed, in shock that no one has heard yet.

"Do whatever you want with me, but not my son." she cried.

Cheese chuckles, pressing her back to his chest. "Whoring yourself out to us? Desperate." he teased, and Aelor cries loudly.

Blood carries Aelor by the neck, muffling his cries of agony. "Maybe when we're done with this little runt, we'll fuck a bastard inside of you." he chuckled, opening a window and threatening to let go of Aelor. Tears began to flow harder from her eyes, Valyrian whispers of revenge, until Blood lets go.

And her son falls to his death.

next chapter >>>

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[serendipityandbenevolence]

I gotta say, when I passed out last night after writing this post, I didn't expect to wake up to people actually liking it. but hey! thanks for the support. As per my little footnote (if you didn't read it then sucks to be you ig) the people who commented got first choice of which characters im going to write. love y'all by the way <3 which means that first up is... Dottore! (as requested by @amber-sekio and @gallantys)

(I am not playing rn when I say that I spent a large amount of time reading Dottore x reader fanfic so I could figure out how the hell to write him and this is probably still ooc but i did my best)

Contains - Yandere behavior (kept to a minimum though) dottore being a charming ray of a human (he mentions enslaving other countries), discussions of blood and injuries

"Dottore?"

The silence from the hallway was almost deafening. The sudden intense quiet was broken only by the gentle crackle of the fire, a welcome reprieve as your words hung in the air. Perhaps it was stupid, to call for a person who may not be there and who, of all the Harbingers, might be the most likely to still attempt to kill you. A foolish whim, but nearly dying does funny things to a person's rational.

Your door slid open silently, revealing the Doctor himself peering in at you. He did not appear to be wearing his mask, but with the low light and strands of blue hair covering his face, you couldn't make out his features well.

"Yes? Can I help you?"

Something was wrong. His voice was too soft, his words too gentle, the whole demeanor was wrong. You knew he had segments that acted differently, but you couldn't imagine Dottore ever being that kind sounding. But you were in too deep.

"Can you come in here, please? I need to ask you a question."

A few murmurs struck up behind him, but Dottore simply nodded and stepped into the room, turning his back to you as shut the door.

"You know..." he mused as he clicked the lock shut.

Ah, there it was. With the door closed, his voice changed, with that hint of cruelty and mania that you had come to associate with him lacing his words. His blood red eyes bored into you, a sly smile creeping across his face.

"Oh, what's with the expression? You seem a little scared of me, Divine One. Am I not as nice as you assumed?"

He didn't allow you to answer, pacing closer to where you lay, buried beneath the pile of blankets.

"There's really no need to be scared of me. After all, I was the one who nursed you so lovingly back to health when you were brought here out of the cold. Aren't I so generous?"

"You healed me?"

You didn't bother hiding your concern. You kicked off your pile of blankets and assessed your body, trying to see if any of your organs were missing.

"My my, do you have such little faith in me? I am a doctor after all. One of the best I'll have you know."

He leaned against the wall by your bedside, giving you a rather unnerving grin.

"Well, you have my undivided attention. What was it that you wanted to ask me?"

You were starting to think that it was a very bad idea to ask for Dottore, but you also suspected that saying you wanted to talk to someone else would go over even worse.

"Yes, I just...wanted to know what I missed while I was asleep. You know, with the other nations."

"Ahh, of course! Well, upon some reflection they seem to have come to the conclusion that you are the actual creator and not a 'fake' as they so cruelly labelled you. Needless to say, quite a few letters of apology have been sent begging for your forgiveness for their dreadful ignorance. Including-"

He reached over to you, laying a shockingly gentle hand upon your bandaged side.

"-the one who nearly killed you."

"You know who it is?" you asked in surprise.

"But of course! Simply assessing your wound, I could tell the weapon and the particular style of it, which made it rather easy to cross-referencing that with the time and location that you were attacked and deduce your attacker with little difficulty. "

"Really?"

He scoffed. "No, of course not. They mentioned in their letter that they were the one who harmed you."

Dottore stepped away from you, pacing towards the door as he pulled a crumpled note from his pocket and tossed it onto the end of your bed.

"You should read it sometime, it is truly a delightfully pathetic read. They only made one mistake."

"Mistake?"

He turned to look at you and you saw that all of the cruel humor that had covered his face was gone, replaced with an infinitely scarier coldness.

"They signed their name. So now, I know exactly who will be my next experiment, when we invade the other nations."

There was silence for a moment, before his features softened and he let out a soft laugh.

"You should sleep. It's the best medicine after all. We can discuss this more in the morning."

Dottore went to turn from you once more, but paused as you opened your mouth.

"Dottore, burn the letter. I don't want to read what they have to say."

A wicked grin flashed across his face as he snatched the letter back up and strode towards the fire.

"You know, I think-"

He tossed the letter into the embers and watched as it instantly caught alight.

"-that you and I will get along very, very well."

Dottore pulled the door open and gave you one last comment before leaving, not even turning his head.

"Sweet dreams, Your Grace."

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

That took me so long to write guys 😭 but anyway i hope you liked it! like i said earlier, i struggle a bit with dottore because he has all his different segments with different personalities but i think this turned out okay.

Also, the order for the next few harbingers will go as such

Tartaglia- requested by @gallantys and @followingyou247

Pierro - requested by @mistresssasori

Capitano - requested by @moonlite-drabbles @megsthings and @legendarysacrificer-blog (yall really love him clearly)

If you guys want to help me pick the order after that, go ahead in the comments!

also tagging @heizoubeloved in this because you mentioned wanting to see more!

[anxious-witch]

So a continuation of this soulmate poly! JO au

So! Again, this is not my usual high quality stuff, isn't beta read or edited and I have been feeling kinda eh about writing lately so...yeah. Be warned before going into it. But so many of your wanted some sort of conclusion so I had to give you one. I hope it's at least somewhat satisfying.

This needed a warning for vomitting not the last one my bad, also TW for Bojan's general low self esteem

Bojan wasn't feeling well. And it wasn't only because he was hungover from the whole spiked drink yesterday. No. It was also due to the fact that now they all knew that he was their fifth soulmate.

He woke up surrounded by three of them. Jure was curled around his right side, with Kris' arm thrown over both him and Bojan. Bojan was snuggled in Jan's chest and Jan's hand protectively hovered over his head.

Nace was probably already up. Bojan laid there fir a moment. Soaking in the warmth. For once, his soulmark didn't ache but instead hummed pleasantly. 

It felt so natural, it was hard to remember why he was so scared of it. 

Then a sudden nausea hit him and he had to practically launch himself from the bed. Jan stirred and sleepily called out to him, but Bojan didn't turn. He ran to the bathroom, just in time to throw up in the toilet.

He wasn't sure how he ended up on his knees and gripping the toilet. He also wasn't sure when Jan joined him by sitting on the floor and rubbing his back. 

Only when he stopped throwing up for more than a few seconds did he lean more into the comforting touch. 

"Aren't you supposed to be angry at me?" Bojan mumbled tiredly.

"Oh, I am furious," Jan said easily, "I just don't see the point of having this conversation until you feel better."

Bojan made a pityful sound, closing his eyes. His head hurt, his stomach hurt, his soulmark ached. He just wanted to die.

"You might as well. I am feeling miserable anyway. We can go for full physical and emotional destruction."

Jan sighed and gently ran his head through Bojan's hair. 

"Kris went to make you tea and Jure to dig out some painkillers. Nace will probably make something to eat when he comes back from his run, if he hasn't already."

Jan scratched his scalp, like he was a dog. It was pleasant though and Bojan couldn't help but let iut a sigh and lean into it. 

"I don't deserve you guys."

The fingers in his hair froze. You said something stupid again, Bojan's mind hissed.

"We'll talk about that too."

"I'm sorry."

Jan continued stroking his hair, but didn't reply. Bojan's soulmarked burned like a brand. He hates you, he hates you, he will never forgive you-

Kris arrived at that moment, taking in their state. His eyes softened as he watched them.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like shit. I don't know if you are asking physically or mentally, but the answer is the same."

Kris crouched down and gently put his hand on Bojan's forehead. His eyes fluttered shut at the gesture.

"You don't have a temperature," he mused, "which means just a bad hangover. You should come back to bed. I bought a bucket if you are sick again. And there is tea and painkillers. Nace is making pancakes too."

Bojan felt a sudden pressure of tears. Why were they all so nice? So considerate? Shouldn't they be yelling and demanding an explanation? He felt like he'd prefer that. It was what he deserved.

"Bojan, hey, what's wrong? Does something hurt?"

Kris gentle voice snapped him out of his thoughts and he realized he was crying. He shook his head and covered him face. 

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Why wre you all being nice? Why aren't you yelling at me? Why-"

"Shhh." 

Kris hugged him to his chest and Bojan's body shook im his embrace. He kept a litany of apologies through the sobs.

"Jan, go tell Nace to finish pancakes later. I will get Bojan to the bedroom. I think we all need to talk first."

Jan probably nodded, because Bojan heard him get up and step out of the bathroom. Then Kris gently picked him up. Bojan didn't even complain, simply buried his face in Kris' chest. 

He carried him to the bedroom.

"What happened? Is he alright?"

Bojan's heart squeezed at Jure's worried tone, but he didn't feel capable of answering. Which was why he was thankful for Kris.

"I am not sure. He started apologizing and then burst into tears. I think everything is hitting him just now. And you know how the bond can be overwhelming at first."

When he put Bojan on the bed, Jure curled at his back. Bojan reached out with one hand to him. 

And Jure took it, interlacing their fingers. His and Kris' presence calmed him down slightly. Enough for him to stop babbling apologies at least, if not stop crying yet. 

"Oh, Bojan," he heard Nace say from further away. 

Then two more bodies joined the pile. Bojan could recognize each, despite having his face buried in Kris's chest. 

That slowly made him calm down enough to stop the tears and carefully pull back from Kris' chest.

Kris didn't let him go far, gripping his waist when he tried to. Which was ridiculous, because they all surrounded him. He cleared his throat, blood rushing to his cheeks.

“Right. Can we just…get this over with, please?”

“Get it over with?” Jan hissed.

Bojan flinched a bit at his tone, ducking down to hide in Kris’ chest again.

“Jan,” Nace chastised him from somewhere behind his back, “Let's try and do this calmly.”

Jure squeezed his hand and then Jan swore, almost as if someone elbowed him.

“Fine.”

“Bojan, could you sit up, please?” Nace asked.

Did he have much of a choice at this point? Bojan sat up, suddenly much more aware of four pairs of eyes watching him.

He stubbornly stared into his lap.

“Tell us what happened,” Jure urged gently. 

“I was at the bar, I was flirting with a guy. He drugged my drink.”

Jan sighed loudly, but it was Kris who spoke up.

“That's not what we are asking. We want to know why you don't want us.”

That made him snap his head up, staring at Kris in disbelief. Kris, who was biting his lip and looked incredibly close to tears.

“What? I never said that!”

“You made it quite clear.”

Bojan felt as if he'd been slapped. He could take them being angry, or even saying they don't want him anymore, but he couldn't take them thinking he didn't want them.

“That's not true at all! Of course I want you!”

Kris did not look particularly convinced, hunching in on himself. Bojan met Jan's eyes instead.

“Then why didn't you say anything? Jesus, Bojan Kris knows you for a decade.”

“Because by the time I realized, the two of you were already together! And then I couldn't say anything because I thought that if you had each other, why would you want me?”

Jan took in a sharp breath and Kris paled noticeably, but Bojan wasn't done. He turned his eyes to Jure.

“So I kept silent, until Jure came along. And then he fit right in. Not just in the band, but with the two of you. And I thought, fuck, I'm too late. So I didn't say anything again. By the time Nace came into the picture, I-I had no idea what to do. Besides, we all know I would ruin this.”

Jure crossed the distance between them in a second, practically launching himself towards Bojan and pulling him into a hug. 

“Never,” Jure said vehemently.

Bojan felt a sudden wave of love wash over him. It took him a second to realize it wasn't coming from him, but from the Jure's side of the bond.

It was enormous and overwhelming and Bojan was completely unprepared for it. Which made panic seize his chest. 

Then, Nace was there, putting a hand on the back of his neck.

“Breathe. I know it's overwhelming at first, but just breathe through it. Jure, back up a bit he isn't used to the bond yet.”

The sensation eased up a bit, even if Jure didn't let go of him. Bojan took in a shaky breath. 

“Why do you think you'd ruin it?” Kris asked after a moment. 

Feeling their emotions in tandem with their words was new. Even without prying, he could feel hurt and worry from Kris. Bojan realized with a pang that that meant they could feel the turmoil of his emotions, too.

This was exactly what he wanted to spare them from.

“Because of this! I am difficult to deal with. I know all of you know it, because you had to deal with me. But that's different from being in a relationship with me. Kris met like, all of my girlfriends, he can testify.”

Jure's arms tighten against him, paired up with a slight pang of annoyance. Bojan bit his lip to stop himself from apologizing. They should be aware of what they were getting into.

He expected Kris to look angry or maybe defeated, but instead he looked thoughtful. 

“From what I remember of that, the biggest issue was you putting us and the band in general before them. Which wouldn't be a problem here, would it?”

Bojan stared. He never thought of it like that. 

“That's still not a good idea. I am difficult to deal with. You'll get tired of me.”

Jan snorted and Bojan turned to glare. Jan met his gaze calmly.

“Right. Because before this we never took care of you being sick every two to three weeks? Nace didn't calm you when you got panic attacks? Jure and I don't regularly feed you because you are unable to cook more than two meals? Kris doesn't have your schedule memorized and reminds you of what you need to do?”

Bojan felt as if Jan's gaze was burning through him, right into his soul. He ducked his head. Except, Jan reached out and Jure moved, curling at his left so Jan could tilt Bojan's chin up. 

“Look at me.”

So Bojan did, a zing of electricity going down his spine as he did so. Any rational argument he had got thrown outside of the window.

“You borrow our clothes and you cuddle with us and we are all together almost 24/7. Why the fuck would that change if we were in a relationship with you?”

Bojan opened and closed his mouth several times, feeling as if Jan had just knocked out all the cards from his hands. Like all the insecurities that held him back were insignificant in the face of Jan's argument.

His head suddenly started hurting even more and he closed his eyes.

“I don't know.”

“Alright. Postponing the rest of this for later. Bojan, go brush your teeth, we'll bring tea and painkillers in the meantime.”

Leave it to Kris to organize everything in a second. 

“Can't I get a coffee?” Bojan asked, peering at him and pointedly avoiding Jan's gaze.

“After we are sure you won't throw up again. Do you need help getting up?”

Jan finally let go of his chin and Bojan tried not to feel disappointed. He never kissed any of them properly, it was always something for the cameras. 

He wondered what it would be like to kiss them for real. 

That thought scared him enough to jolt him into action and he quickly got up from the bed. Too quickly, since dark spots began to dance in his vision.

Nace swore and reached out to steady him. 

“I'll go with him-”

“No,” Jan interrupted, “you go finish those pancakes. I got him.”

Bojan tensed. It wasn't that he didn't trust Jan, because he did. He trusted all of them with his life. The thing was, Jan seemed the most angry out of all of them and he didn't sugarcoat anything. Bojan wasn't sure how being alone with him would go.

No one protested though, Kris simply exchanged a long look with Jan and then nodded.

Bojan wondered if that simply cane with sharing a bond for so long and then he suddenly felt very, very lonely.

So he didn't protest when Jan took Nace's place and led him to the bathroom. He took his toothbrush and brushed his teeth. Jan walked closer and took his own, so they both brushed their teeth and Bojan tried not to think about how domestic that felt.

That distracted him enough for him not to notice that the toothbrush was the exact same one he had at home until after he finished.

“Since when does Nace have everyone's spare toothbrush?”

“Since we all started dating?”

Bojan started at Jan through the mirror. Jan calmly washed his mouth with water. 

“I haven't been dating you.”

Jan sighed as he stood upright again and put his toothbrush back where it belonged.

“No. But even before the soulmark, you were always considered welcome. I think…on some level we all knew.”

Bojan swallowed against sudden urge to cry again. 

“I should have known. The way you looked when we saw Nace's mark, I-”

“Don't say that. You didn't know because I didn't want you to. It's not your fault.”

Jan gave him a wry smile, shaking his head.

“Isn't it? Maybe if we figured it out sooner, you wouldn't think you were unwanted. For seven years, apparently.”

Jan's emotions were more guarded than Kris’ and yet, Bojan could practically taste the bitterness and hurt pouring from him. 

Bojan couldn't help but reach for him, but as soon as he touched his arm, Jan tensed. 

“I'm sorry. It-it's not your fault, okay? I promise.”

Jan pursed his lips.

“If you say so.”

He stepped closer then closer again, until their chests were almost touching. Jan didn't stop him, but also didn't make any moves towards him, either.

Bojan cupped his face and pressed his lips to his anyway, trying to pour all his mixed feelings into it. Then Jan moved, pinning him back against the sink. Bojan gasped and Jan took that opportunity to deepen the kiss.

There was so much longing in the kiss, Bojan kept trying to pull him closer, making a protesting noise when Jan pulled back.

“This is a bad idea. We need to talk this through first.”

“Oh.”

Jan was probably right. It was not a good idea, especially with the mess of emotions Bojan was feeling. Still, it was difficult not to feel a pang of disappointment. He felt…rejected.

He nodded and hung his head low.

“Fuck. Bojan that isn't-Hey.”

Jan lifted his chin once more and Bojan shivered. Something about the gesture made Bojan feel very small in comparison. 

“I am not rejecting you. This is just because I don't want to take this too far before you feel secure in the bond, okay?”

Bojan swallowed and watched and Jan's eyes traced the movement.

“Okay.”

Jan took in a deep breath and then took a step back. Then he extended his hand out to Bojan.

“Com'on now. The others are waiting.”

Then he was tugged back into the bedroom. Jure and Kris were sitting on the bed and talking quietly, while Nace still didn't return. They went quiet once they entered and Bojan tried not to fidget.

“Don't stop on my account,” he mumbled, trying to get under the covers.

Perhaps he could suffocate himself under the blankets.

“Wait! The painkillers!”

Bojan stopped halfway, and Kris handed his the painkillers and the water. He tried not to make a face at being treated like a child. Firstly Jan with pulling back and now the rest of them eith treating him like he was fragile. They cared and objectively, he was aware he scared them last night.

So he took them and handed the glass back to Kris. Then he got under the covers and buried his face into a pillow.

“Why is he sulking?” Kris asked, directing the question at Jan.

“He kissed me and I said I don't want things to escalate until he feels comfortable with the bond.”

“He wasn't too happy about that, huh?”

Bojan was about to snap at them for talking like he wasn't there, but then another person shuffled under the covers and pulled him closer. Jure.

Jure's emotions were always on the surface and Bojan could feel them much easier than Jan's. There was a sense of deep contentment that he didn't expect.

Jure pressed a kiss into his hair and Bojan felt his annoyance begin to dissipate. Kris shuffled closer and began petting his hair and-yeah, okay, he could get used to that.

He was starting to drift when Nace came back, announcing that the pancakes were done. Bojan groggily got up, rubbing at his eyes.

“You can eat later if you are tired,” Nace said with such a soft look, Bojan felt the need to squirm.

“But I want pancakes,” he protested.

Jan laughed.

“Just let him eat. Maybe that'll wake him up.”

Bojan glared.

“Maybe now I won't go exactly because of that.”

Jan smirked.

“Well good thing we can all carry you then, no?”

“No-”

Nace crossed the room in a few steps and picked him up as if he weighed nothing. Bojan squealed. He knew Nace could pick him up, but actually being picked up was quite different.

He wrapped his arms around Nace's neck, even if he was pretty sure Nace wouldn't drop him.

“Rude,” he mumbled in his neck. 

He was lulled once again into a feeling of contentment that simply radiated from the bond. Was it supposed to feel like that? Did it always feel like that for them? 

Nace gently dropped him in a chair at the dining table. Bojan absent mindedly reached for the pancakes while the others all took their seats.

“Does it always feel like that? The bond, I mean.”

Kris cocked his head.

“How does it feel?”

“Content. Calming. Like…things clicked in place.”

Kris’ gaze softened. 

“Not quite. There was always something missing. Like the connection flowed between the four of us and then it just…hit a wall.”

“Oh.”

Bojan fidgeted with his knife before anxiously taking the jam and smearing it over the pancake. He wasn't sure what to say.

“We have been waiting for you,” Nace added softly.

And this, this was exactly what Bojan wanted to avoid. He covered his face, willing himself not to cry again.

“This is why I didn't say anything. I don't-I can't complete you.”

“You already do.”

He began shaking his head, but then Kris was gently pulling his hands away from his face.

“We already acted like you are a part of this relationship, excluding kissing and sex. You already cuddle and steal all of our clothes. You hate being alone so you are in one of our apartments half the time. You already act like you are our boyfriend, this is just a confirmation you belong with us.”

Bojan felt speechless again. So he did one thing he could think about at that moment. He kissed him.

This kiss was much softer than the one he shared with Jan. Kris kissed almost hesitantly, as if not believing he was real. When Bojan tried to press harder, someone cleared their throat and Kris pulled away.

Of course it was Jan.

“Still not a great idea Bojči,” he reminded him.

Bojan stared at Kris, who was still kneeling by his chair, looking a bit dazed.

“Maybe not such a bad idea, if it'll help convince him,” Nace said, shrugging, “But we should wait until after breakfast.”

Bojan's brain came to a screeching halt.

“C-convince me?”

Jure sighed.

“That we want you. Obviously.”

Bojan swallowed. Don't think about it. But Kris was already kneeling and-

“Kris, go sit in your chair before Bojan has another crisis. And let's just finish eating first, yeah? Then we can discuss other things.”

He felt his cheeks heat at Jan's words and Jure chuckled. Kris simply rolled his eyes and went to take his seat.

They all began to eat and Bojan just tried to take everything in as they fell into easy conversation like nothing had happened.

His world tilted on its axis and…kept spinning, almost exactly the same as it had before. And surely, this would change things. Perhaps even his fears would be confirmed with time.

But for now, Bojan sat with four of his soulmates that he loved more than anyone else and simply let himself breathe.

Bojan was born with four stripes on his stomach. Yellow, red, purple and blue. And for the first time, his pink joined into the rainbow it created.

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

Prompt 10 with either Fives or a clone of your choice from @the-bad-batch-baroness list of prompts? 👉👈

The Long Way Home [Fives x Reader]

Prompt ten: "Did you feel that?" "Feel what?" "It's starting to rain."

List of all prompts found here [X]. Prompt will be highlighted in blue.

Warnings and Information: Wanting a taste of domesticity the moment he gets shore leave, Fives wants to spend the day with you doing general couple-ly things. A little shopping at the early winter markets of Coruscant, and utilizing every excuse to shower you in all the compliments he can to make up for lost time. When the weather has other ideas regarding your shared plans for the day, Fives is determined to make the best of a less than ideal situation. 

This is a general fluff + relationship fic at its core; friendly for all ages this go-round. Reader written with fem!reader in mind, not described save for minor notes about clothing and briefly implied (but not specified) height difference. Fives being a sweetheart. Sprinkling of Mando’a as a treat. As an additional treat, Order 66? Don't know her; Palpatine died and the Republic won the war. 🩷 2nd person POV. 

Word-count: 5,912

There's a knock at the front door of your residence, one you've been eagerly expecting most of the morning. You're quick to reach the door, keying him in so he can step inside where it's warm. He's late; which he had warned you about well in advance. And the first thing he offers before his usual hellos is an apology. 

A well-practiced one at that, from the warm cadence of his voice, brimming with just the right amount of shame.

“I'm so sorry to keep you waiting, mesh'la, I-”

You tug him close with the collar of his civilian wear (a thick, handmade sweater given to him by Hardcase who had recently taken up knitting since breaking one of his legs - so you're certain to handle it delicately) in a very practiced motion. As expected, it shuts him up just long enough to get a word in while he puts himself nose to nose with you. Practically close enough to taste the words on the others’ lips. “Hey. It's okay Fives. I understand the captain probably needed your help with something, or, you volunteered yourself to help. Again.” Your partner with his well-groomed goatee has a penchant for stepping up and lending a hand to a brother in need, brave and dependable to the end. 

Full lips dart apart, the tender flesh brushing over your own lips being this close is nigh impossible to avoid. “Are you teasing or expecting an answer?” Fives asks, hinting to his building confusion below a toothy grin. “Makin’ it hard to tell what you want when I can’t see all of your pretty face.”

That's fair of him to say, you should suppose. “Mostly teasing,” you promise him, at last permitting yourselves to kiss one another as part of the process - brief, chaste, sweet. “You know I wouldn't press you for details if it was classified ARC business.” You never have. Never will until you know the mission has been completed at least; because while you often burn with questions (as is only natural and expected in what was once a friendship, now a partnership) pertaining to his duties and practiced protocols within the GAR, you take the mantra “loose lips sink starships” very close to heart. 

Should you ever say something that could jeopardize the safety of the one you love, you’d never forgive yourself.

“No, not ARC business,” Fives offers at last, “I, uh… I told you I was gonna be running late because some of my brothers asked for my help with something kinda last minute.” The palm of his left hand strokes the back of his neck in a self-soothing fashion, a tell of either embarrassment or shame. “I couldn’t bring myself to say no…” 

“Young brothers?”

Fives only answers with a nod and an appeasing smile, knowing where this is going. 

“Star-struck little brothers wanting to ask what’s it like being an ARC trooper, and how they can train to be just like you?” you muse, exaggerating your train of thought with a couple of taps against your chin with the finger of your non-dominant hand, the other arm wrapped across your body.

It does not slip your notice how his tanned face begins to look a little flushed when you playfully bat your eyes at him for good measure, knowing what that kind of praise does to him combined with the light teasing. 

“More or less…” 

You giggle, not at him or at his expense, but more the mental image than anything. You can picture Fives, being as eager as he was to come see you now that he had shore leave, getting roped into regaling doe-eyed Clones with lengthy recountings of his service since becoming an ARC. All he wanted to do was peruse the early winter markets with you, the entire idea his from the start; and there he was, at least an hour of his precious free time used up already. All because he was too much of a selfless and wholeheartedly good person for his own good, on occasion. 

“I’m sure they appreciated you and Echo doing that.” Fives doesn’t have to mention his surviving squadmate, Echo, to know that the other half of the nicknamed Domino Twins had sacrificed his own time to answer a few (or a hundred, more rather) burning questions. “I’m sure the captain did, too.”

The humble grin is confirmation enough for you. You can continue to tease him later, however - you’re both wasting daylight the longer the two of you choose to linger in your comfortable Coruscanti apartment rather than getting the rest of your things ready. Light coats or other appropriate outerwear still needs to be gathered, the credits you’ve been setting aside for this occasion needs to come out of hiding, and he still needs to collect the rest of his civilian-wear he planned on wearing. There’s only so much space within trooper accommodations for everything he’s accumulated since the start of your relationship. Thick-knit hats, fleece-lined gloves, a scarf in 501st blue, things of that nature. 

And boots. It’d probably be wise to grab a pair of all-weather boots rather than tromp the markets in your slipper-socks, no matter how tempting the smooth streets would prove. 

Fives is ready far sooner than you, owing to how little he needed to add or change into to be more weather-ready, but he waits patiently. No teasing remarks for how long it takes you to disentangle a simple scarf from all the others, or the childlike nature of repeating the phrase that helped you remember how to tie your shoes even to this day, or any of the other silly little habits you comfortably show in front of him. There’s only a warm, endeared smile to be seen. He’s just happy to be here, to be in your presence after so long, and see all these little puzzle pieces into why he loves you as though for the first time, every time. 

“What are you staring at?” you ask with a bemused laugh bubbling up from your throat. Time to time, you struggle to figure your partner out, wondering what can be chalked up to his training and what can be passed off as quirks unique to him. You’ve gotten better with time and practice, being able to discern these instances. “What’s on that beautiful mind of yours, Fives?”

“Nothing more than perhaps the most beautiful person in all the galaxy, cyare.” Fives replies in earnest, dazzling you with one of those smiles that had charmed you since the very beginning. “And how I get to spend most of my first day of shore leave with that person, all to myself.”

Torn between scoffing and brushing him off with oh surely you can’t mean the most beautiful person thing and trying to shield your flushing face from view, so certain your cheeks must be scarlet red with all the flattery, you busy yourself with ensuring your door is locked and secure against unwelcome visitors. There’s been a minor rash of break-ins lately, and you know that a simple door lock won’t do anything to deter the truly determined - only the honest - it always seems to get a bit worse just before large deployments get shore leave… funny how that goes. 

At least you get a little help when it can be spared by those serving with the Corrie Guard, given your proximity to the senate buildings here. There was no small amount of surprise the day Commander Fox himself turned up at your doorstep to follow-up with a reported break-in for the unit above your own. He could claim he was there just to ask if you happened to notice anything, and nothing more than that, but you knew better. Working in loose relation to the complex goings-on with the Galactic Senate and the red-clad commander turning up only two hours after mentioning the incident to Fives was too big a coincidence to ignore. (You can only wonder what strings in the line of communication your smarty-pants of a boyfriend had to pull in order to get in touch with Commander Fox, directly.)

A smarty-pants that you had all kinds of preconceived plans to spend the rest of the day with, all to yourself. 

The ambling walk to the marketplace offers the pair of you plenty of time to catch up since you last spoke on the comms just over two weeks ago; it was a Zhellday if you're not mistaken. 

You don't really bring up your work if you can help it; the problems seem so trivial when you compare them to the frustrations of stamping out those stubborn pockets of Separatist resistance Fives and all his brothers have been dealing with since winning the war just a year ago. A malfunctioning caf-machine spraying your last clean work uniform seems like nothing compared to a desperate firefight against the horrifying, mechanical amalgamations the standard CIS battle droids have become as less and less functional droids become available. 

You have to ask Fives to be sure you heard him right after he says it. “Hold on: it had eight arms?” 

“Some Separatist-sympathizer - one who's, admittedly, crafty but incredibly elusive - has been a real pain in our shebs for a while now. ‘Case was so badly spooked by the crazy-looking clanker that he fell over backwards on a crate full of smuggled produce.” Fives explains, struggling not to laugh when explaining of all possible ways Hardcase recently broke his leg, it was falling over backwards on a box of illegal fruit and veg. 

“He’s okay, right?” you prod, “What'd Kix have to say about the break?” 

It's touching to Fives when you show your concern for his brothers, knowing you have genuine interest in their well-being. You always have. When you heard that the production of the cloning facilities were coming to an end on Kamino thanks to Chancellor Organa’s new bill, your immediate thought had been for the young cadets who had not yet finished training. 

What's going to happen to those little brothers, Fives? All the Clones still developing in the tubes and the nurseries and-

Mesh'la, with any luck, they'll become the envy of the entire GAR. They'll never have to taste war like we have if we squash out the remaining Separatists sooner than later. 

Fives gives the cuff to one of the sweater sleeves an experimental tug with a beaming smile. “Kix said the worst of it will be the bed rest for Hardcase. At least he's found a way to keep his hands busy between the physical therapy he has to do, thanks to Dogma.”

“Aww. That was kind of him.” you croon. He mirrors the relieved smile, sharing in your relief that his brother's injury was not as bad as you feared. He begins fishing through one of his pockets for something, saying he has a picture to show you. 

“Hardcase made Dogma the ugliest possible blanket using yarn we had scrounged up for him as a way of saying thanks. Thing's got all sorts of colors from baby pink, to brick red, even a smidge of neon yellow somewhere in there.” 

Without question, the immaculate bunk within the frame can be none other than Dogma's. Laid out in a uniform manner is a tidily-knit but disorganized rainbow of yarn in every shade of blue and a handful of other colors. (Sure enough, you can pick out the baby pink, the brick red, and the neon yellow Fives previously mentioned.) Honestly, you think it looks ugly only because there's no reason or order to any of the colors. A crisp, sky blue next to the imagined dryness of such a dusty shade of red is a bit jarring, visually. 

‘Case was likely working with the colors of yarn as he received them, if his brothers were coming up with loose odds and ends as Fives claims they did. 

You voice the question that crosses your mind the more you look at the image in your boyfriend's hand, “Does Dogma actually use the blanket, or is it just for show until it's time to sleep?” 

“Wondered that myself.” Fives admits to you with a cheeky wink between thumbing over to the next picture, a still of Dogma tucked under both the GAR-issued blanket and Hardcase’s, “It was so worth pretending to be asleep for forty-five minutes just to get Dogma to go to bed.” Dogma's always been the last to fall asleep within shared accommodations, so for the ARC trooper you're arm-in-arm with to have pulled the oldest trick in the book in order to get to the bottom of a low-stakes mystery, you can only imagine how disciplined you'd have to be to lay so still and silent for that long. 

“Why not just ask him in the morning?” you laugh, realizing how simple it would be to do just that rather than go through such efforts to trick someone into going to bed. Fives shrugs noncommittally in response before tucking his personal device away again, now that you're both within earshot of the outdoor winter market. 

It's bustling with activity, even for Coruscant. The pressing crowds and all-encompassing noise will make it difficult to carry on catching up in a meaningful manner for much longer. 

“Dogma's not much of a talker in the mornings, sweetheart.” Fives says with a chuckle. “Though to be fair, not a lot of us are either.” 

Strange… they've always seemed so… talkative and alert whenever you've had early morning communications with Fives. Those bleary-eyed video calls spent simply staring at the other, not too sure what to talk about in particular. The stolen minutes between breakfast in the mess hall and the barracks. (The lunch breaks where you've snuck off somewhere secret and pretended you're sharing the same ration, they've been talkative for certain!) Have you just done a poor job of noticing until now? Or are they better at masking how awake they truly are than you expect? But okay, fair enough. 

Now that you were here at the market, you’d be more than a little preoccupied to be thinking about it much longer, with Fives tucking his fingers between yours to prevent both of you from getting separated from the other. It’s rather busy; it must be the morning rush before everyone has to reluctantly shuffle off to work. And you should probably expect to have more than a few elbows - or entirely unaware people - knock into you and Fives while you’re here. 

What catches Fives’ eye first is a female Besalisk vendor with armfuls of rain repellers for sale (one for five credits, or two for ten) with a business partner checking news sources for reports on the weather nearby.

“Ah… knew there was something I forgot to check before getting to your apartment.” He says, quickly casting his eyes skyward. Certainly enough, there are rain clouds gradually building overhead. Strange. While it is technically early winter, this time of year typically has a weird, transitional period regarding the weather. Not quite past the sometimes cold and drizzly days of autumn, but still too early to dust off your proper snow coats from where they've been hiding in the back of your closet. 

“Let’s get one to be safe.” you suggest with a reassuring squeeze of your hand in his. If you buy one of the repellers and end up never using the thing, then you were over-prepared with little consequence. Having one more thing to carry wouldn’t be that big of a deal in the grand scheme of things, surely. “Hi,” you address the vendor cheerfully, “a repeller for five credits, right?”

“That’s right! Pick whichever one you’d like, dears.” she tells you with a kind wink, thrusting the set of arms bearing all of the rain repellers a little further for your inspection. 

Fives wastes little time in selecting a repeller with a sleek and subtle design, something he thinks you’d like, perhaps. He’s incredibly thoughtful in that and many other ways. It’s one of the many parts of him that you ache for in his absence, the fondness for his charisma and slight cheek only deepening when he’s away, aiding in the peacekeeping efforts now that the galaxy is largely free of the Separatists. (How strange that things fell apart so suddenly for them, following shortly after the rather untimely and unexplained death of Sheev Palpatine (that, surely, can’t be related, right?) just last year.) You know he’s not giving up the fight just because they say the Seppies have surrendered, not when there’s still work to be done to make the galaxy safer for everyone. 

Fives isn’t still fighting the good fight just for his brothers, but for you too. Every last far-flung outpost they capture, each bubble of resistance they burst, it’s always the same message that finds its way to you, no matter the time and no matter the distance. 

For the Republic. For my brothers. For my Kar’ta. Talk to you soon, sweet. 

Both of you thank the vendor, and set off on your way, imagining what curiosities and delights could be found by the two of you together on this cold Coruscanti morning here in the intergalactic market. With a cultural hotbed like this - a diverse focal point in the heart of the galaxy with a population of roughly two trillion that is Coruscant - there’s no telling what you and Fives will see, from the familiar to the fascinating. 

In a dramatic, sweeping gesture Fives invites you to lead the way into the heart of the market with a dizzying grin, promising to follow wherever you roam.

“After you, angel.” 

You’ll only be there for an hour before the increasingly-inclement weather decides to become a little more concerning. Those cotton-soft clouds, planted in the lofty airspace high over even the tallest sentient lifeforms’ head(s), are beginning to appear denser and darker than they were when you set off this morning. Weather reports you peek at while Fives discusses something with a Tatoonine-born vendor suggests you might have another hour before proper rainfall.

“You say the yarn’s a bantha-blend, right?” Fives clarifies, gingerly juggling a few twisted hanks of it in his hands to get a feel for the softness. “Would it work for projects meant for… say, kids?” The vendor’s eyes flick to you, just for a second, and you can imagine what she’s thinking. Your partner catches that too, so Fives clarifies further. “Someone I know had twins last year. Tryin’ to, uh, contribute to a special present for the little ones. Brother of mine got some good yarn from Naboo to represent the mother. I was asked to find something to represent their father while I was here, if I could.” 

As could be expected, the yarn-seller is now tittering excitedly about how sweet it is that he and this unspecified brother (who’s definitely either Jesse or Kix) are looking to put together something for this ‘someone they know’ who had twins. Sweet little twins who you’ve happened to see crawling around the floors of the senate building out of the corner of your eye, as a matter of fact. But you’ve been aware of the “open secret” nature of the Skywalker-Amidala twins for some time now, and know you’re supposed to treat it like it’s more of a classified matter than it is in reality. 

Yeah, how strange that Senator Amidala and General Skywalker spend a lot of time together. Or that little Luke and Leia show up in the Jedi Temple on occasion, just as a last minute “favor” to the Senator - of course! 

“Yes, the yarn should be appropriate for the little ones!” the vendor promises, exchanging the appropriate credits as change from what Fives hands her as payment before gingerly bagging the hanks of bantha-yarn for him. “You’ll find a card with the best care instructions with your purchase inside the bag. Thank you for your business, folks.” 

When you've stepped beyond the earshot of the yarn-seller, now again arm-in-arm with Fives as you meander the little sector that seems to be dedicated to all things Tatooine, you feel it's safe to tease. 

“You're getting better at lying, Fives.” 

“Mesh'la-” Fives warns you.

“Okay, okay… Stretching the truth, if that's what you insist on calling it, mister ARC trooper.” you add. 

Fives doubles down on the insistent, close to disapproving tone. “Mesh'la… I've told you several times now, you know why we treat it like a secret.” 

“I know, Fives, I was only teasing.” you promise, offering an apologetic expression. 

You understand the faux secrecy is largely in relation to the response of some members of the Jedi Council when the inevitable truth about Senator Amidala and not just one child, but two, came to light. There's been a great deal of speculation from the 501st Legion of Anakin Skywalker’s expulsion from the Order; speculation that has them worried. Selfless to the end, the Clones are just as concerned for the fate of their General as they are about their own.

You change the subject as you pass a stall brimming with food-based goods from the Outer Rim planet, a warm, spicy odor cutting through the ambient smell of chilled steel and duracrete surfaces. Looks to be samples of an alteration to bantha steak soup. Something being offered to the market-goers to warm them up as the temperatures fall day by day, or hour by hour.

“Remind me: ever tried any food from Tatooine?” 

“Some of it's decent.” Fives admits with a chuckle. “Or, it will at least beat having rations for every meal. But nothing beats your cooking, cyare.” 

Your cooking, among many things, is what Fives has been looking forward to most about today, about shore leave. A chance to come home, a chance to catch one another up on the things they’ve missed (things too important or lengthy to say over comms), and a chance for splitting a hearty meal practically invented for sharing with the ones who mean the most to us. Same thing with coming to the market. Fives didn’t want to do a little shopping just to see what was new on Coruscant; he wanted to spend a little time with you away from home first, maybe find something special to buy to mark the occasion.

To be home after so long is a very special thing indeed.

“Hope you’re in the mood for soup tonight.” It’s a little simple, you tell him, but no less comforting or flavorful. “Didn’t know how tired you’d be, when you came home this time.”

“You spoil me.” Fives murmurs lovingly, craning his neck for the moment to plant a sweet, gentle kiss in the crown of your hair and against your temple. His full lips are warm, and where you’ve been kissed seems to glow with that warmth compared to the surrounding chill. “What’d I do to deserve you, kar’ta?”

There’s that word again. Pronounced KARH-ta, as he’s taught you.

It's Mando’a, meaning heart.

“Well, you kept the galaxy safe,” you answer with a sweet smile, “I think that’s a pretty deserving reason, don’t you?”

The warm, heartened smile is all you have to see to know he feels the same way. He helped keep the galaxy safe, yes; of course he should deserve to live a good life with everything said and done. With every bill and law passed towards the betterment of life for Clones after the war, it tastes like the sweetest victory, over and over again. If there was anyone more deserving of thanks, it was the mighty multitude of men who came from Kamino. 

As you’re turning the corner of a larger booth within the sprawling outdoor market, Fives mentions that somewhere down the lane he can hear a live performer playing covers of popular songs on what must be a hallikset. 

“Must be another one of your little soldier tricks,” you tell him with an impressed shake of your head, “I can’t hear any of that. What’s a hell- hall-? Wait, what did you call it?” How did he pronounce that so easily? 

You’re not surprised with many a Clones’ proclivity to be little cultural sponges that Fives seems to have the answer ready for you before you can pull something out of your pocket to search up the instrument he mentioned for yourself. “Halliksets are seven-stringed instruments popular on Naboo. Here, let’s get a little closer.” Fives offers, leading the way ahead to where he hears the music coming from. He wants you to be able to hear it better, to experience it for yourself. Appreciate it fully.

You momentarily pity the player’s poor fingers once you get closer, noting how red with cold they are. Like you, the hallikset’s owner is wrapped in layers between a thick jacket, a gray hood and a long scarf wrapped around their neck. But with the beautiful way they play, plucking and strumming each perfectly tuned string, you wonder if they don't notice, or care. Perhaps the lack of gloves to keep their hands safely warded against the cold is worth it to them for the amount of credits they're pulling in. There's several fistfuls at least, all piled up in the open instrument case. 

“Wow… I don't think I've ever seen one before, but it's beautiful; it's a beautiful instrument.” you offer your observation to Fives after spending a few minutes to simply stand and listen to the performer. Buskers, you believe they're called, playing for voluntary donations in public settings. 

The busker offers an appreciative grin, playing on smoothly without pausing the performance for even a moment as they bob their head in thanks for your compliment. 

“Certainly is, mesh'la.” Fives agrees. He dips a hand into one of his pockets, and adds a couple of credits to the pile in the instrument case. As a way of thanks, the song that was currently being played is masterfully morphed into one of the more familiar military anthems of the Republic, just for a moment. 

The performer, a young-looking Twi'lek, has of course recognized that Fives is a Clone, and is hoping to acknowledge what the Republic has done for Ryloth in some small way by playing something a soldier would recognize. Fives is equal parts flattered and amused, even if he himself may never have gone to Ryloth, that he's being thanked and acknowledged like this. 

“Heh. You're welcome, kid.” 

Putting his free arm around you as you decide to listen to the hallikset a little longer, you and Fives listen to the best recognized music forms of Ryloth start up from the instrument as further homage. You lay your head on your boyfriend's shoulder, leaning into his side a little deeper with a placid smile, drinking in this moment. 

Close to an hour later, when more yarn for Hardcase, a few decorative knick knacks for your apartment, and some novelty sweets have ended up among your purchases, someone’s stomach rumbles in complaint shortly before the time you would typically consider having lunch. Luckily Echo has offered to help you locate something by sending you a file to a map of the market with all consumables stalls highlighted and labeled after checking in on how things are going for you and Fives. 

While Fives quickly speaks with his brother and squadmate, you check the weather. Steadily, it’s only gotten colder, and in efforts to keep you warmer, Fives has sweetly given up his thick-knit hat for the time being until you come across another stall that offers cold-weather wear. There, he’ll find another hat for himself, suggesting you keep his. The fluffy curls of his clone-standard crew cut have been flattened a bit by the hat, amusingly. As a sweet gesture, you try to fix up his hair for him while listening to what Echo has to say.

 Force willing, as it’s only becoming more and more likely that it'll rain, that will be after you grab a quick bite to eat. 

(Pantoran food sounds good right about now.)

“Me? Oh, all was quiet on the homefront - busy playing a strategy game against Rex. Until we got ambushed by a couple of giggling womp rats.”

Fives grins like a nexu. “Brothers’ kids or the General’s?”

“Tup’s little boys,” Echo answers jovially between peals of bubbling laughter in the background, “things are getting a bit rowdy here, so you two better go. Enjoy your lunch and the rest of the market; I’ll tell everyone you both said hi.” 

“Thanks Echo.”

“We’ll talk later, Echo.” you promise. “Also, I’m keeping your brother all to myself tonight.” Echo’s laugh promises that’s fine by him. He trusts you’ll take good care of Fives, like he takes good care of you in turn. He’ll pass along the information that everyone will see Fives again the following morning. The Clone with the Aurebesh ‘5’ permanently inked on his right temple can only offer an eager smile. 

A homemade meal and the promise of staying the night when it wasn’t previously discussed? What better way to end a day than that? Fives walks with a spirited spring in his step, just short of tugging you along after him at first before you match his pace and revel in that excitement together. 

Excitement that quickly turns to surprise with the first of the rain starting to fall over the market. There’s a particularly heavy raindrop that lands with an audible spatter on Fives’ left shoulder. He chuckles, the sound somewhere between an amused ‘of course…’ and a nervous ‘uh-oh’. He’s patting down his deep pockets for wherever he’s stashed the rain repeller purchased earlier, since it could very well start raining steadily by the time you reach one of the food stalls that peddles any Pantoran cuisine.

“Did you feel that?” he asks, eyes flicking skyward between some of the many imposing, glinting skyscrapers that make up the surface of the ecumenopolis. It’s a small relief that you’re not quite out in the open, like you would be if the market had taken place in a location like Monument Plaza, at the least. If the rain got intense, fast, Fives could easily squeeze the pair of you into a dry alcove somewhere in the absence of the repeller now in his hands.

“Hm? Feel what?” you wonder just before you feel another droplet glance off your own coat. “Oh.” 

So much for getting lunch…

“It’s starting to rain.” the two of you say at once. And while it’s not quite sleet, it certainly feels close to it every time the stray droplet finds a patch of exposed skin. The idle prattle of buyers and sellers shifts in tone; a few surprised shouts here and there while vendors urgently cover their wares, and a few shoppers brushing past panickedly exclaim that they’re faced with taking the long way home because of street-closures tied to the event-space.

Thankfully that won’t be the case for you and Fives with the direction you came from your apartment, so long as the dispersing crowds allow. 

Opening the repeller, Fivers now pulls you closer, trying to fit it over both of you best he can. “Here, mesh’la. Wouldn’t want you to get cold and wet… That wouldn’t be a very pleasant combination, now would it?”

“No,” you agree with a little wag of your head, “buuuut, heading back to my apartment and calling in an order for delivery sure does.”

Fives brings up an excellent suggestion while you busy yourself with making sure all your purchases are safely in your arms before the pair of you about-face and make for home. “With a movie to watch, too, right?” Oh Maker, there are so many films you could choose from to watch; there’s always something new that you learn your beloved hasn’t seen, being so wrapped up in the pan-galactic war and its aftermath. Even films you don’t particularly care for become tolerable when you’re snuggled on some comfortable two-seater together, your head planted against his chest as he runs his hands through your hair in idle fashion.

You’re wholeheartedly in support, already impatient to burrow into that large, fluffy blanket with him.

Cupping his face in one hand, you kiss his cheek best you can as you walk, copying his deliberate stride. “That sounds like a great idea, Fives.” It’s kind of a shame that the weather put a bit of a damper on how long you had in mind about spending at the market, you add with a soft sigh.

He smiles, encouraging you not to let it get you down. “Not gonna let a little rain ruin my first day of shore leave, so long as I get to spend it with you, ner kar’ta.” Fives promises, being his sweet, joking self by downplaying the amount of rain. It’s gotten past ‘just a little rain’ at this point in time, with puddles forming atop the duracrete surfaces, some with multi-color veneers to them where the oils previously soaked into the street float to the top. 

As the freezing rain builds in strength, it patters and trickles off the rain repeller in thick rivulets while Fives holds it over each of your heads - it’s kind of a tight fit underneath, but neither mind. Making sure both of you and your purchases remain relatively dry means it’s a slow, steady march back home. It’s probably taking you twice as long to get back home than it was to get there. You could be taking some long, convoluted path, and you wouldn’t mind a bit with the way Fives has one of his arms so lovingly, kindly wrapped around the small of your back, both to hold you close, and to make sure you hear him when he talks.

“I’ve got a few stories to tell from this last deployment, besides ‘Case breaking his leg.” he starts, a note of mirth in his tone. “But there was one thing I kept thinking about, more than anything.” Fives adds, the slow cadence suggesting this is important.

Before you permit your mind to race with the possibilities, the many guesses you have, you bob your head, encouraging him to go on. 

“I’m listening.”

He wastes no time, sure of his words, but maybe not how to say them. “I wanted to ask if maybe now’s a good time to… Y’know. We might start thinking about a couple of things, now that the war’s over, and things are getting safer…?” You could practically swoon, knowing what he’s trying to tell you. What he’s thought about while he’s been deployed with those who’ve chosen to remain in service to the GAR for just a little longer, aiming to finish the job they’d been made for. 

For the Republic. For his brothers.

For you, his heart.

How would you feel about spending the rest of our lives together, cyare?

“Sounds like a good conversation to have over dinner.” is all you’ll suggest for the time being, bringing his face close once more for another caste kiss with the door of your apartment in sight. 

If you’d known he’d had this on his mind just a little sooner, or there was no premature rainfall to dampen your plans, maybe you would have suggested taking the long way home after all, just for the fun of it.

Taglist: @msmeredithrose Taglist form can be found here if you would like to make sure you don't miss a fic in the future. Thank you for your patience, and thanks for reading and requesting. 🩷

[Masterlist] [Requests: CLOSED]

[gensokyogarden]

it's almost new years and you guys have been there for me so much during this year so tonight I do want to make a post trying to recognize a lot of people within the community. My head is pretty fuzzy right now so I fear I'm gonna forget some folks, in which case I'm honestly genuinely very sorry, but know that so many of you have touched my life in a positive way. Since I wasn't fully around on Thanksgiving either, consider this my chance of telling you all that I'm thankful for you too.

Some of you may not see this. Either because you don't follow this blog or you've been offline for a while. But I hope even if you don't see this post you still are able to understand my feelings towards you.

At the moment I would prefer if people don't reblog this. I'm not the most comfortable with my out of character thoughts being spread around. However if you know someone in this but think they won't see it on their own you are welcome to link them to this. Also if you're mentioned in this and you REALLY want to save it, I guess I can't stop you from reblogging.

Ruler: It feels like anytime I'm in a rough spot you always have kind words for me. With how often you're in character I just deeply respect you always breaking it for me. You've helped me to feel safe in the community during a very difficult time. That means the world to me.

Annette-mun: I know we only met a year ago but you have become an incredibly close friend to me. Being honest, I rank you as one of my best friends. I have fun with all of the boardgames we play together as well as the connections we've made between a lot of our muses. I always want to recognize all the work you put in sending me those ask spams. I'm sorry that because of head stuff I haven't been able to answer most of the new set. It makes me feel as if I've failed to respect the effort that you have put in. But I hope some day in the future I can fix that. I'm very glad we're friends.

Vel: You're a really funny friend and I care about you a lot. I feel that sometimes I'm not sensitive enough to things that may bother you and worry I may have upset you at times in the past. If I have, I'm really sorry. You write Kyouko really well and your ocs are also quite fun. Thanks for letting me make Nagi. Sometimes you say things that make me feel you are self-concious about your blog and other things. So I just wanna reiterate that I am in your corner and here for you whenever you need.

Slap: I was shy towards you at first, I'll admit. It may not seem it but I'm kinda a shy person in general and I'm nervous to warm up to people, but I'm glad you joined the Touhou community. You're a really funny guy. I love reading your posts on my dash and now I also love playing the occasional game with ya. Your ability to do voice and to commit to bits is astounding. I'm really glad I met you.

Argo: You're someone who is always there for me. I really appreciate that. I left the Fate community for personal reasons years ago now. I'm very glad that, despite that, I still ended up meeting you. Because you've been such a good friend to me. I'm glad that you've gotten somewhat into Touhou because it gives us more room to interact. You've really been there when I've needed you. Often you apologize and say you don't do enough but you've done so much for me. You're special to me.

Hoche: Through all the struggles I've gone through you have been very supportive of me. You have been a level headed voice of support and advice. I think that if it were not for you I would have been worse off in many different circumstances. Aside from that you are a very talented writer. I find myself stunned by some of what I've seen you write. Thank you for everything you've done for me and for being my friend.

Zane: You always show me cool warhammer things and that's special to me. I also really like Nyalter. I love ocs in general, but I think you have done a phenomenal job in giving her a life and story that is uniquely hers. I find it to be quite inspirational and it really pushes me to work harder on my own original characters.

Amber: I have mentioned this before but you were the first person to welcome me into the community. That is always going to be special to me. During that period when you left I teared up a fair amount because it felt like things would always be so different with you gone. I'm very glad that you came back. I really like all your ocs. I'm glad Eri isn't gone but I'm also really happy to be seeing the opportunity for your other ocs to shine as well. They're all fun, but I'm particularly a fan of Anna.

Kay: You've given me some of the advice that has helped me the most when I have been in a bad spot. I can't thank you enough for that. You've stopped me from making really bad decisions. You've also just been a fun and supportive friend. I am very interested in your Reimu and the story arc you've created with the hakurei god.

Swigg: I know we haven't talked much lately. I think our schedules don't line up the best. But you recently mentioned trying to get back into Tumblr. I'll be very happy if you do. Your ocs are fun and you put a lot of love and care into the canon characters you write. I think you add a lot to the community.

Sethy: I didn't know it for a while but back in the Fate community I followed your arknights blog and admired you there. I'm super glad I have gotten the opportunity to meet you and to become your friend. I think that all the things you do are so cool. Like you're a vtuber that's incredible. I always wanted to stream but could never work up the courage. You also know the creators of all the walfas I love. I just think its so cool. You have such a history within the community. I know that you suffered a very bad tragedy this year. I don't believe I was in a good enough headspace at that time to have provided you with the support a friend should have given and I deeply regret that. I just hope you're doing well.

Noka: I think you're a real sweetie and also really funny. I'm glad to see you posting on your sfw blog a lot more again because I really love seeing you on my dash. I'm hoping that we can do a lot more threads in the future because its always fun to write our muses together.

Minnie: Maybe the only person with the same brain worms as me. I know that lately we have not talked much but I hope you are doing well. I just wanna say that I really love your art.

Aurora: My apprentice and buddy, hehe. I know I haven't been around much but I want you to know that I'm glad you decided to join the rpc. You're so full of ideas and kindhearted. You have such phenomenal oc ideas and have such a talent for making danmaku. I think someday you may be the centerpiece of the community.

Sats: We haven't spoken too often but like Amber you were one of the first folks to interact with me in the community. Alongside that I find your writing to be phenomenal. As are your headcanons. The work that you put in to research, especially on folklore, is just so inspirational. It drives me to want to learn everything I can.

Momi: Hey Momi. It's been a while since you've been around and I miss you a lot. I know we still message on discord occasionally so its not like I can't reach out to ya. But I just miss you being in the rpc a lot. You were such a great writer and always doing something fun. But I imagine you've got a whole bunch of difficult challenges ahead of you. I've heard the career you're pursuing is really rough. I hope that you're thriving in it though.

Sarience: You've always been a good pal to me. I have a lot of fun writing with Neka in both forms as well as your other muses. There's a lot of asks from you I haven't answered yet. I'm really sorry about that. It feels disrespectful. Still I hope to be able to do more in the future. Thank you for always being interested in interacting with my muses, even when I was very new and unestablished.

Kyo: I really really like everytime that I see you on my dash. You write your muses in such a fun and engaging way. I hope that we get to interact a lot more in the future. I also know you've started something new in the last few months, not gonna be specific since I'm not sure if you've shared that part of your personal life on Tumblr, but I wish you the best of luck at it. I think you're going to succeed hard!

Ran: Ran I guess I just first wanna say I consider you a really good and special friend. When we've spoken you've often alluded to social anxiety and feeling like you've said embarassing things. So I want to restate that I've never been put off by what you've said and I love talking to you. As well as roleplaying and doing boardgames. I have so much fun pairing our muses up our causing wacky hijinks. I haven't seen you on your blogs much lately. Maybe I've just missed you but if not I hope you return to the rpc soon. It's not the same place without you.

Metal: You've been a long time friend to me by this point. Longer than a lot of folks on this list. I really appreciate that a lot. We haven't talked too much lately but I hope you're doing well. I also know not all of our fandoms sync up but I'm always down to interact anyways.

Nep: Hey Nep I haven't really seen you on Tumblr lately. I'm hoping that's just because we've been active at different times but if not I hope you're back soon. If you're not, I hope you're happy wherever you are. I think that you're real fun to write with and you've got original characters I'm excited to do much more with. I also believe that you had an event while I was gone that I'll hopefully be able to catch up on sometime soon.

Koi: I know I've not been around much lately but I hope that you're doing well. I've not really been in the headspace for horror lately but you're very good at bringing a unique horror flair to things.

Plumber: Hey we don't really personally know each other all that well but you're always making fun and wacky posts that I love to see on my dash. It feels like the rpc would be a lot less fun without you here. You also seem to be an incredibly kind person.

Kaali: A friend I've had for quite a while now but that I don't talk to enough. Sorry about that I'm just genuinely not the best with conversations. I have mad respect for all the work you put into your original characters and into your ideas. Like you really pull out all the stops.

Awoo: I've admired your ability to create interesting and fun original characters a lot. Several decisions I've made to develop my skills as a roleplayer have been inspired by you. I know you've had some mental health struggles of your own and I haven't heard from you lately so I hope you're doing alright wherever you are.

Sades: During some really difficult moments you were there for me when not many other people were. I'm always going to appreciate that. You're also the reason I got into Touhou. Which means that without you, chances are I woule not have met the vast majority of people here or found a community where I feel I belong.

Cobalt: I am always ecstatic when I see your posts on my dash. I love your Chen and think that you're a lot of fun. I have not been around much but when I have been I've seen you talking about things like not feeling you have much to do in the community. I can't make decisions for you but I do want to say that I think you are a fundamental piece of our rpc. I would be sad not having you here.

Teeps: I was shy about approaching you at first but you're incredibly cool. A lot of the fandoms you are in I'm not in but your posts get me interested in them anyways. Like I have no clue who that green sonic character is but you give her such an energy. I'm real glad to know ya. As far as the 2hu rpc goes you've been around a lot longer than me and I love hearing your own personal that you've developed.

Cait: I need to pop in and catch your streams more. I think that you're very cool to see on the dash. I especially love the way that you write your Sakuya. I really cherrish her interactions with my Reimu.

Sev: First of all. A while ago you sent me a very kind message wishing me well in my mental health struggles. I was not in the best place then so I did not appropriately respond. So thank you for that it truly meant a lot to me. I believe that you put a stunning amount of work into the characters you write, giving them so much detail and layers. Its inspiring and I just really want to appreciate you for it.

Hanafuda: You haven't been around much and last we spoke you alluded to a rough spot. So I hope if you ever see this that you're doing well. It was always fun having another Miko on the dash for mine to banter with. I also looked forward to seeing more of the other muses you played. Maybe someday you'll return.

Frozen: Everytime I see one of your posts it makes me smile. Honestly you've got some of the funniest jokes in the fandom. Some I don't get but I still feel they'd be hilarious if I got them. Also I have noticed you often commission art for other people. I find that to be a very sweet and kindhearted thing. So I consider you to be the heart of the community.

Fox: I don't know you very well but I've recently seen your multimuse popping up and it seems very fun. So I want to get to know ya in the future.

Chiru: We've not really spoken but I think you make some really great posts. Very well written headcanons and roleplays. So I just wanna say I'm always happy seeing you on my dash.

Draco: you're not in the touhou fanbase but you have been a long time friend. I haven't heard much from you lately so I hope you're doing well. I'm here if ya need me.

Sturm: I think that all your fairy posts are incredibly. You truly are a star of my dashboard. Hopefully someday we'll interact more. I'd like that.

Xana: You seem to have so much lore for your blogs, its really cool. It seems you've been around a long while so there's a lot of history. Someday I'd like to sit down and hear all about it from you. I also find your writing to be quite fun.

Jacob: we don't interact too much but I'm always excited to see someone posting walfas images. So that has always made you stick out in my dash and brighten it. Hope you're doing well.

Geisthonoredferry: As of yet, I don't believe we've interacted. But you're always liking my posts thst's something I really appreciate. Hopefully sometime I can get to know your oc.

Carp: Last I saw you were in a rough spot so I hope things are well now. You're newer to my dash but you seem very kind hearted and jovial. Also your ocs sre red as hell and go've got good face claim tastes.

Crim: You're a real cool friend with a lot of cool ideas. I love any interactions that our muses have together. Although my favorite is Kutaka/Eiki because it's somehow both a very obvious ship and yet a rare one. I think that they are very cute together. I also like the sisterhood of Reimu and Kisume. It's an unexpected but fun dynamic.

Mugenri-mun: I don't believe I know your screen name but you've been real supportive of me through my hardship and gave me a person to speak to. I would not be in as good a place without you. Also I'm glad someone is repping Len'en.

Kcmeiji & Closedheartedgirl: I wanted to note you both as you are both Komeiji blogs thay popped up and then disappeared while I've been got on hiatus. I just think that's a bit disappointing. The Komeiji are some of my favorites.

That's about all I have to say. It was kind of tough to word it all out but those are things I want y'all to know.

[the-arbiter-general]

mr general! *holds up mic*

please pardon the interruption, but i am here on behalf of the public with a very important question! and the masses are dying to know your answer!

*ahem* we are no strangers to admiring public officials and celebrities of all kinds, and sometimes we can’t help but wonder what it would be like to interact with them and gain their favor. so, i humbly wish to know (on behalf of the public this is definitely not an excuse!!!!) the best, most surefire way to make you laugh.

please respond at your earliest convenience. thank you for all that you do for the luofu!

-definitely a verified journalist anon

Laughter. Was the he even allowed of such a pleasure? His thoughts races as you raised your mic eagerly, your eyes having a strange determination, causing the General to give you a smile, or more specifically, a controlled smirk.

The General's eyes highlighted a certain amusement through his masterfully trained facial expression, a golden, glinting gaze lowering to your own.

If he were to answer, it would be—“The absurdity of someone's reasoning, especially if their action's conclude a negative outcome, a prime example of this would be...” and before you could react with confusion, his gaze goes past you, distant to the scenery behind, a moment of recollection in his eyes.

“The Stellaron Hunters, and their... eventful motifs,” his answer would prove true, finding himself chuckling, but it wasn't of a happy emotion, nor anything else positive, and under an observant gaze, you can call it disbelief, otherwise with a slight bitterness that he has no choice but to laugh it off, or swallow in defeat.

Ah—“My apologies,” he notices the confusion right away, and his head tilts to the side, an apologetic smile accomodating you. “I don't often pull this card, and you certainly haven't specified much, but, at your leisure, that is my truth, and,” his facial expressions return to the once musing smirk.

“At the thought of one of the people who work under me, attempting to consume an ongoing popular drink within the Luofu,” a low 'hmhm' escapes his mouth, looking away to the side. “Mung Bean Soda, was it? The reaction of my Cloud Retainer would most certainly be a feast to the eyes.”

[kjack89]

ExR 72

72. For You, and Your Denial by Yellowcard.

Canon-era. Unrequited(?) E/R.

Combeferre shook his head slowly as he gazed over at the ruckus Marius, Courfeyrac, Grantaire and Bossuet were making over the latest harebrained scheme to try to track down Marius’s mystery girl. “Some days I do wonder if Marius is wasting his time,” he mused aloud.

To his left, Enjolras snorted without looking up from his work. “I wonder that every single day.”

Combeferre gave him an affectionate if slightly exasperated look. “Yes, but I imagine we wonder it for different reasons.”

“Oh?” Enjolras said vaguely.

“You wonder it because you find the pursuit of love to be a wasted one in general,” Combeferre said amiably, and Enjolras offered no defense or contradiction. “I wonder it because given Marius’s circumstances and how little he knows of this woman, they may make a poor match unless Marius is willing to compromise his beliefs.”

For the first time, Enjolras did look up, his brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Combeferre shrugged. “I mean, if she is poor and he still intends on marrying her, he would likely need to rely again on his grandfather’s money. And I wonder if he has considered that.”

“I do not see the correlation between the two,” Enjolras said, frowning. “Certainly Marius manages well enough now without his grandfather’s money. Why would that need change?”

“Because—”

Combeferre broke off as Grantaire broke away from the scrum to plop down at their table, grinning. “Do I interrupt?” he asked, not waiting for them to answer. “If so, I shan’t apologize. This looks like far too serious a discussion for such a fine evening as this.”

Combeferre just shook his head. “Enjolras and I were just discussing the role money might play in forging a marriage.”

“Combeferre was discussing that,” Enjolras muttered, looking again at the papers in front of him. “I was endeavoring not to.”

Grantaire’s gaze lingered on Enjolras for perhaps a moment too long before he took a sip of wine and reclined in his seat. “Certainly money is as much a consideration as any other,” he said, and both Combeferre and Enjolras looked at him, surprised. He met their surprised looks with an arched eyebrow. “After all, is not, at the end of the day, marriage an economic arrangement?”

Combeferre again shook his head, slower this time. “I thought you might take the more romantic approach,” he admitted.

Grantaire just shrugged unconcernedly. “I am far more a pragmatist than a lower-case ‘r’ romantic.”

Enjolras’s eyes narrowed. “Then do you believe Marius should give up on his pursuit of this woman?”

“Of course not,” Grantaire said cheerfully. “Because, as one might suspect given my own name, I am very much a capital-R Romantic.”

With that, he stood to saunter back to the rest of the group, and Enjolras watched him go, something unreadable in his expression. Then he shook his head, his expression souring. “Once again Grantaire refuses to take any stance that might betray something resembling belief.”

“In his words, certainly,” Combeferre said contemplatively, still looking at Grantaire. “But his own behavior reveals otherwise.

“What do you mean?”

Enjolras’s words were far more curious than accusatory, but still Combeferre flinched, looking away from Grantaire. “Nothing,” he said quickly. “I should not have said that.”

Enjolras gave him a look. “Well now you must tell me,” he said, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips.

A smile that Combeferre did not return as he glanced sideways at the raucous group still within earshot. “Now is perhaps not the time—”

Without warning, the group, evidently content in their plan, departed, clambering down the steps, their voices fading. Enjolras turned to glance at Combeferre, amusement and triumph clear in his expression. “And now that we are alone?”

Combeferre sighed, already feeling a headache starting in his temples. Then again, this was perhaps a conversation that had been delayed for far too long. Still, he took a moment to carefully choose his words before responding. “Grantaire might speak of pragmatism and the economic nature of romantic entanglements, but his own choices reveal otherwise.”

Enjolras scowled. “You are speaking as obliquely as Grantaire is wont to. Speak your meaning plainly if you are to speak at all.”

“Are you aware at all of what he has sacrificed for you?” Combeferre asked, sharper than he perhaps intended.

Enjolras looked almost offended by the question. “Sacrificed?” he scoffed. “What does Grantaire know of sacrifice? When has Grantaire ever—”

“For you, Enjolras,” Combeferre interrupted impatiently. “Not for the Cause.”

A spot of color rose in Enjolras’s cheeks. “I don’t—”

Combeferre sighed again, regretting how harsh his tone had been. “No, I suppose you wouldn’t,” he said, pausing again as he decided how to actually get into the meat of this conversation. “You are rich.”

He knew at once that this was the wrong tack. If Enjolras had seemed offended before, now he looked almost ready to demand satisfaction for his honor. “I do not see what that—”

“You are rich,” Combeferre continued, talking over him. “Grantaire is not.” Enjolras fell silent but his mutinous expression spoke volumes on its own. “Oh, he receives an allowance of some kind from his father, enough for him to scrape a living in between what art he is able to sell, but it is a meager existence.”

“He would have more if he did not waste it in a bottle,” Enjolras muttered.

Combeferre gave him a look. “He would have more if he married well.”

Something unreadable flickered across Enjolras’s expression, so quickly that Combeferre might have imagined it. “Marriage…Grantaire would not want a marriage like that.”

“Perhaps not,” Combeferre allowed quietly. “But Marius is not alone in the position where a good match might make all of the difference for him. And while Grantaire’s face may not cause women to swoon, his charm more than makes up for it. When he wishes it to, at least.”

Enjolras’s expression hardened. “What does this have to do with me?” he asked, abruptly enough to be rude were he speaking to anyone but Combeferre.

“Why do you think he does not marry?” Combeferre pressed. “Or at least seriously court a young woman?”

A muscle worked in Enjolras’s cheek. “I do not know.”

“Enjolras.”

“Grantaire has many reasons for the things he does,” Enjolras snapped. “I doubt highly that any beyond a few have a remote relation to myself.”

“Are you truly that naïve?” Combeferre asked quietly. Enjolras flushed and looked away, and Combeferre nodded, though there was no triumph as he said tiredly, “I thought as much.”

Enjolras swallowed. “I know that you and others of our friends believe that Grantaire harbors feelings for me—”

“He loves you.”

Enjolras flinched and took a deep breath before continuing doggedly, “Even if that were the case, I fail to see his own choice to prioritize those alleged feelings over a potential marriage for economic benefit as a sacrifice.”

Combeferre’s brow furrowed and he leaned forward in his seat. “It is not just the comfort that money might bring that Grantaire has sacrificed. Or do you imagine that when we inevitably take our fight to the streets that Grantaire will instead take to the safety of his own bed?”

Enjolras met his gaze evenly. “No more than I imagine any of you would.”

Combeferre shook his head. “But in our case, we have pledged our lives, and yes, our deaths, to the Cause for which we have all sworn to fight.”

“That is not—”

Again Combeferre spoke over him. “Grantaire has pledged – and will end up sacrificing – his entire future for you.”

Enjolras’s eyes flashed. “And I did not request nor demand such a sacrifice!” he burst.

“But you let him make it all the same,” Combeferre said quietly, and Enjolras collapsed against the back of his seat, all the fight leaving him in an instant. “Are letting him, still.”

Enjolras stared at a spot over Combeferre’s shoulder for a long moment, his expression closed. Finally, he looked back at Combeferre as he asked softly, “What would you have me do?”

Combeferre jerked a shrug. “Free him.” 

“How?”

“Turn him down,” Combeferre said forcefully. “Set him free. Tell him, in no uncertain terms, that you will never want him in the way he wants you.”

Something darkened in Enjolras’s eyes. “Do you think I have not tried?”

“No,” Combeferre said honestly. “Not in the way you should.”

Again Enjolras looked away, and when he again met Combeferre’s eyes, his expression could only be described as pure anguish. “And if I cannot?” he whispered.

Something clenched in Combeferre’s chest, and he almost could not force his answer out. “If you did not love him, you would find a way.” He hesitated before adding, “If you do love him, you must find a way.”

For one long moment, Enjolras just stared at him. Then, abruptly, he barked a dry, humorless laugh, scrubbing a tired hand across his face before asking, “How did a discussion of Marius Pontmercy’s flights of fancy come to this conclusion?”

Combeferre half-smiled. “Marius does have a knack for moving the plot along, I suppose.”

“I suppose,” Enjolras said, somewhat grudgingly. He picked up his pen as if to return to his papers, but hesitated. “I know what you are asking me to do,” he said finally, his voice low, urgent. “I know, too, that in the end, it may very well be the gentler option.”

Combeferre nodded slowly. “I sense there is a ‘but’ forthcoming.”

Something tightened around Enjolras’s eyes. “But I have never lied to Grantaire before. And I know not if I can bring myself to.”

Combeferre swallowed as his chest once again clenched painfully. “Is false hope not a lie in and of itself?”

“Only if it is truly false,” Enjolras countered quietly. “And despite being on occasion called Apollo, I do not have the gift of foresight to know what fortune may yet befall us both.”

There were a great many things Combeferre wished to say to that, arguments to make and arguments to counter, but Combeferre knew the moment had passed. So instead, he stood. “Well, I have said my piece. Whatever choice you make from here is your burden to live with.”

Enjolras looked up at him. “As always, I value your honesty. I only wish that I deserved it more.”

Combeferre’s expression softened and he reached out to grip Enjolras’s shoulder. “Get some rest, my friend. I will see you tomorrow.”

Enjolras reached up to rest his hand on top of Combeferre’s for just a moment, and then Combeferre left him to his work, and his thoughts. He was not overly surprised to run into Grantaire returning to the Musain just as he was about to leave. “Back so soon from Marius’s merriment?” he asked, setting his hat on his head.

Grantaire shrugged. “Merriment turned far too quickly to melancholy, alas. And as I still have wine to drink, I figured I would take advantage of the Musain’s candles instead of wasting my own.”

Combeferre just shook his head. “Have a good night, Grantaire.”

He brushed past him but paused just outside the doorway, staring up at the window as he listened to the sound of Grantaire’s steps up the stairs, to the sound of the door closing after him, to the low rumble of voices greeting each other.

He wished more than he could ever express that Enjolras would find it in himself to send Grantaire away.

Even if he knew in his heart that he never would.

[maggacammara]

Wyllvember, Day Two

II. Wyll and Your Tav

“I appreciate the offer, but—”

Before Wyll can finish, Rauva is sitting on one of the large, flat rocks by the shore, moonlight shimmering on her dusky skin as she stares out at the horizon. Wyll sighs inwardly and sits down next to her. The silence, soundtracked by waves breaking and the chatter of tieflings and adventurers getting drunk off ithbank, is welcome. Still, he doesn’t mind when Rauva finally speaks. “I would have spent the evening with Shadowheart.”

No elaboration. Wyll nods, musing. “Everything okay with you two?” he says, dropping into a more casual register than he typically uses with his companions. Maybe he’ll be able to pry some personal information out of the notoriously guarded drow. She nods, the gesture almost imperceptible. “I take it you don’t expect me to stand in for her regular duties.” This may be his first attempt at flirting with Rauva. He’s gotten to almost everyone else by now.

Rauva’s head turns sharply, her red eyes boring into him. At first, he thinks he’s upset her, but then he realizes—she’s flustered. Her skin, like his, is too dark to betray her flush of embarrassment, but he sees it in the tension she holds, the slightly widened eyes. “It’s not…” she trails off. For the first time since meeting her, Wyll actually sees Rauva’s thoughts telegraphed across her expression, no tadpole needed—it’s not like that. Well, it is. I don’t know. It’s complicated.

“I get it.” Wyll laughs. “Relationships aren’t easy for a hero.” Rauva opens her mouth to speak, but he cuts her off. “And don’t say you aren’t one! You may not see yourself that way, but the tieflings certainly do. Your actions matter far more than how you perceive yourself.”

Rauva nods again, that curt, dutiful nod. But he can tell she’s relaxed a bit now. “Are you holding out for anyone here?” she says. Her low voice seems huskier in the evening.

Wyll really thinks before he answers. The truth is no, he’s not quite that committed to anyone in their camp. However, this doesn’t mean he hasn’t considered a few of them, and he knows this is what Rauva is getting at. “I am offended that Astarion hasn’t asked to bite me yet, if that’s what you mean,” he says. Rauva laughs, which he considers a success—as well as an opportunity to be more vulnerable. “I’m holding out for something special. It may end up being someone here… I’m not sure yet.”

“I see,” Rauva says. She thinks for a moment, picks up a smooth stone and tosses it at the water. Rather than skipping across the surface, it sinks straight to the bottom without a splash. “I never thought I would grow close with someone like I have with Shadowheart. Not with my life how it was. Is.” The noise from the camp grows to a roar for a moment—laughter, cheers, Alfira’s smooth voice singing. When it quiets again, Rauva says, “She makes me feel I could change. Choose to change, even. Not because of a tadpole or a cult—but just because I want to.”

“You want to change,” Wyll muses. He almost adds something to the effect of, yet you’re already perfect, but he knows it’ll come off flirty, and this feels inappropriate after Rauva’s admission about Shadowheart. “I know the feeling. I wasn’t always the Blade of Frontiers. And I wasn’t always… well, you know.”

This coaxes a smile out of Rauva. “I do think they suit you,” she says, nodding toward the horns. Wyll still hasn’t quite grown used to their weight. “This coming from someone generally distrusted based on their appearance.”

“Ah,” Wyll says. “All my complaining—I never considered. I apologize.”

Rauva laughs a little, shakes her head. “Don’t be sorry. I lived in Menzoberranzan for the first two-hundred years of my life. I remember the culture shock of suddenly being perceived as different. You’re going through the same thing.” She reaches out, a little awkwardly, and places a strong, calloused hand on Wyll’s shoulder. “Those whose opinion truly matters won’t care how you look. In fact, they will embrace it.” 

Wyll looks down at his hands and smiles. It’s a fact he knows to be true, but it rings truer coming from someone like Rauva. He feels briefly embarrassed for having tried to flirt with her before. She’s well out of his league. “I’m lucky to have you as a friend,” he says, deeply earnest. Rauva just squeezes his shoulder and drops her hand, looking back out at the moonlit water.

Someone comes crashing through the brush behind them. “Come on, Rauva!” Karlach booms. Wyll doesn’t have to turn to recognize her voice. “I dared Gale to try cooking one of the artifacts before eating it, and the mad lad is actually going to do it!” Her crackling heat fills the small clearing as she steps closer. “You should come too, Wyll. I’ve got a pool going on whether he’ll love it or hurl.”

“Those are the only options?” Rauva muses, rising gracefully. She glances down at Wyll. He does feel better after talking to her, but he’s still not quite ready to go out and carouse. He waves nonchalantly at the two of them.

“Put me down for… ah, neither,” he says. “I don’t imagine he’ll enjoy it, though the man must have a strong stomach by now, eating all the orts Rauva drags back to camp for dinner.” Karlach bursts into laughter as they head back to the party. 

“I’ll let him know what faith you have in him!” she calls.

Wyll smiles to himself and gazes back out at the water. He may not be in the mood for a celebration, but he won’t allow himself to sink into the pits of despair. Not yet.

[voxmortuus]

Hello 👋 I’d like to request a Dom Bilquis x Male!Reader smut. Male!Reader is a New God who receives an unexpected visit from the Old Goddess who is craving worship, and not from a regular human…

Nonnie Bilquis Requester.... THANK YOU! You threw me for a loop and I thank you for this request!!!!! Sorry it took so long! I hope it finds you well.

►PAIRING: Dom!Bilquis X M!Reader ►UNIVERSE: American Gods ►WORDS: 1k ►SUMMARY/PROMPT: See Above. ►TRIGGER WARNINGS: Domme Bilquis | Nothing but smut | Smut time language for body parts | Oral *Female Recipient* | Vaginal Penetration | Worship of Old Gods | Submissive-esque male | I may be missing some, but you get a general idea, so please proceed with caution if there is anything in there that is overly triggering please let me know politely and I will make sure it is added to the list. ►NOTE: Sorry if this isn't what you expected, or had envisioned yourself, I apologize. But I hope you enjoyed my vision. ►DIVIDER CREDIT: @nyxvuxoa ►My Master Masterlist

It wasn't everyday a beautiful woman came knocking at your door, especially one such as Bilquis. She was radiant, as always, but today she was particularly delectable. She oozed of sex, lust, desire and want. Dressed in a beautiful shade of crimson red she had come knocking on your door. Without hesitation you let her in, she wasn't going to take no for an answer and that was clear when she looked at you. Her gaze warm and wanting. She was a woman, not a girl, not some floozy, this was one woman who could eat you alive and not think twice. She was a Goddess. One of age at that.

Closing your front door you turn and look at her. "And to what do I owe this visit...?" you ask.

"I want to be worshipped... I know who you are... I know what you are. I want to be worshipped by someone with power." She had stated. The words dripped off her lips like a sweet bite out of a juicy watermelon.

"You think I can do that?"

"Oh I know you can, and you will. Worship me Y/N. Show me what it feels like to be worshipped by a new god... Pleasure me with those wants and desires of being needed, desired, and craved. Worship me, Y/N." she stated with a sway in her hips as she approaches you and grips your shirt and presses you against he wall, feeling you against her she lets out a soft whimper. "Worship me." She whispers against your ear as she places her hand over your pants and begins to rub you to feel what she's got to work with.

Nodding with a stammering groan you close your eyes a moment before opening them to look at her. "Yes Ma'am..." you smirk.

"No, say my name. Say my name when you worship me." she demands.

"Yes, Bilquis." you smirk looking over her face.

"Good boy." she muses before she turns around and moves her hair for you to unzip her dress.

With a simple gesture, you move to unzip her dress, exposing her dark creamy chocolate skin. You run your hand down her back and then up, only to slid your hand down her side, feeling her curves with your hands. You whisper in her ear. "You are absolutely beautiful."

She smiles softly and looks over her shoulder. She looks around your apartment and looked back at you and beckoned for you. Walking further into your apartment she noticed your candles and smirked handing you a lighter off the dresser she tilted her head and licked her lips. "Light them in the name of me." She whispered softly as she climbed into your bed and leaned against the headboard slightly and spread her legs.

Looking over her, she looked so good you could devour her, sweet, with a slight tang, a beautiful combination of desire and harmony. The scent of her was intoxicating, and you were far from pushing her away, no you wanted this, especially deep down.

Once the candles are lit, you move to stand at the end of your bed and you watch her, licking your lips you feel your cock stiffen slightly. "Fuck." you smile she beckons you. Stripping down you release yourself feeling the freedom as you stiffen a bit more, rising as you stiffen. You climb into bed and approach her.

Leaning in you attempt to kiss her, but she stops you and looks over your face a moment, studying you before she leans in and kisses you. Slowly pulling back you begin to stroke yourself but she shakes her head. You stop, looking at her.

"Taste me..." She stated as her hips raise slightly and you smirk. Kissing her again, you work your way from breast to breast, gripping, touching ever so slightly, rubbing at her swollen clit. It wasn't long before your lips were kissing just above it.

In a matter of moments you were taking her sweet nectar into your mouth. Your tongue began to work like it's never worked before, lapping at her, drawing around her clit, her velvet like folds welcoming and sweet. She was ripe and sweet for the plucking and you were going to devour her. Your hands gripped at her thighs a moment before one hand slipped to your cock and began to stroke yourself, you wanted her to shake and quake before you dove right in.

Her moans were beautiful notes that danced off your walls. Her hand in your hair gripping as you lapped her up and suckled on her clit. With the hand that stroked your painfully hard cock you reached up and grabbed a breast giving it a firm grip an you feel her legs tremble her moans picking up at your quick paces, hearing her breathing get heavier, she watches you a moment before her head presses into the pillowy headboard.

Feeling that tremble you knew it was time, positioning yourself you slide right in with nothing but great ease. Wet, dripping and the way she felt around your cock was something you absolutely will never forget.

"Oh Bilquis, your feel so good." you praise.

She moans softly.

You think about it a moment, and the more you say her name, the louder her moans become. The lourder she had gotten, the lourder your groans had gotten in return.

As you thrust, she had massaged your cock with her wet velvet like walls, and the constriction and freedom of her slick core had felt something unworldly.

The aura of the room grew, it was like there was an audience, changing from the corners of the room, moaning that was beyond you two, the way you pleasured her, it pleasured you, the way you cried out for her in worship of who she was, there was a strong feeling behind it because of who you were. The power you both possessed danced in the room like a tango of seduction. It was the release of the goddess beneath you as you screamed her name that was the biggest reward.

Getting dressed she looks at you and smiles. "I'll be seeing you again real soon, Y/N. Maybe next time, I'll return the favor. Be a good boy, and make sure when you touch yourself, you do so in the name of me." She muses before she kisses the corner of your lips and steps out of your apartment, leaving you to mull over what just happened.

[queenharumiura]

I would like to know your honest opinion on ship Xanxus x fem!Tsuna.

[My KHR ship game] ||Accepting|| @squaletta Reminder: This is me just talking. I'm not even talking about RP. ((Thank you for indulging me btw!))

Hate it | Am Neutral to it | Ship it | love it! |

Mandatory readmore

-

Let’s see… this one is a lil hard because this is a fem!Tsuna which is your portrayal specifically. I suppose the disclaimer is that this is entirely based off how I personally view your muse from what I’ve seen. I am liable to be incorrect about things, so apologies if I get some things wrong or understand things wrong of your portrayal of Fem!Tsuna.

NOW ONTO THE SHOW!

I said neutral and ship because well, it’s hard for me to ship something if I don’t know much about it or I don’t have a strong understanding of a character. I’m also in general very ehhhhh about (M)Tsuna and Xanxus. I don’t hate it, but I don’t like it either. Like we’ve discussed before, there are differences when it comes to gender altered characters, so tentatively, after thinking some things through, I think I could like the ship- though it would depend on how it was done.

In the previous one answered, I sorta mentioned it, but I write these based off how I think a ship could feasibly work and be developed. So this isn’t to say I know anything about canon events or know about BG of your Tsuna. This is more of a thought exercise, so do keep that in mind. The Xanxus is also possibly different from how some may portray him because again, this is based off how I think it could work—so some things may differ because that’s how I’m choosing to think of him to make a ship work. Kk. Disclaimers done.

So, some of this talk will make sense if I also preface with (M)Tsuna. The reason I don’t like the ship is because every time I see (M)Tsuna and Xanxus, they always make him the most uke to have ever uke. The megaladommed of ukes. I hate it. Tsuna is a fearful lil dude and pretty timid but he’s not like that. He has some back bone to him. He knows when to take a stand. Moreover, he would at least put up a bit of a fight. He’d ba panicking at the very LEAST not just crying through everything. Bruh.

That’s how every single person portrays the (M)Tsuna x Xanxus ship for some reason, however. Idk. It does sometimes involve funny art though, I’m not gonna lie lol.

So, with that, we have the contrasting Tsu-chan as I like to call her. We’ve established before in a ‘how do I see your muse’ kinda meme that happened a while back. [x] Linked for reference. I enjoy the fact that she has more fight in her in the form of sass/sarcasm. She’s more willing to just take charge initially as opposed to Tsuna who normally takes a more nuanced neutral stance at first before he finally decides ‘okay I need to act’. I am going off on a limb to assume that some of this can come about due to the fact that Tsu-chan is a woman.

She likely had people who doubt her ability to take charge and to lead a massive famiglia like the Vongola. Not to forget that she was quite young when Reborn first came into her life to train her to become the 10th. Women in general are usually told to just be pretty and it is best to be subservient to a degree. Just let the men do all the work, or to simply listen to men as that’s their place. That is a mentality that a lot of places tend to have though things are better in more modern times and in some countries.

I think, Tsu-chan had to take the stand and had to prove herself time and time again to the point where she’s just so used to having to prove herself that it resulted in her faster and stronger response to altercations than Tsuna did. He has a more passive kind of attitude to things but she does not. She’s also seemingly more ambitious than (M)Tsuna likely was. That’s the vibe I get. She may be respectful towards others, but she can easily take it back. She will take shit from NO ONE. Honestly? DAS RIGHT GIRL, YOU DO THAT. GO AND KICK SOME ASS BECAUSE HE WAS A FUCKING DUMB ASS. DO IT. FOR ME.

It isn’t to say that (M)Tsuna doesn’t have fight in him. It isn’t to say that TYL him didn’t have ambitions either. However, canon him was always shown to be more gentle and passive until you went over a line and then he acts. Then everything he was holding in comes forth and he’s a force. Tsu-chan, I have the gut feeling, has a much lower threshold, than (M)Tsuna. Also possibly had less insecurity issues than that of (M)Tsuna. I cannot speak to all iterations of how you write her, but at least based off the premise of our interactions, Tsu-chan had a childhood friend and one she got along well with.

Haru is such a positive bean (THE LOVE OF MY LIFE!!!!) and she’s such a caring and supportive person (THE BEST WAIFU OF MY LAIFU!!!!!!!!) and so I think that as opposed to (M)Tsuna who didn’t have friends, she would certainly have a bit less of the sociability issues that he had. From this, you could say that she has more emotional intelligence than he does. This may turn into her having a stronger sense of self, which then means that she’s more willing to assert herself. So from a younger age, she was PROBABLY (I’m just guessing) more willing to be honest and speak up than (M)Tsuna was.

Why am I saying all this and why is it relevant? It’s VERY relevant. Xanxus cares a lot about power and authority. He also cares about image. Something that I think some people often forget is that Xanxus may be ‘old’ comparatively to the others, but he’s also quite young too. He was frozen for many years in ice. He had lost many years that could’ve been used to experience more in life. When he was thawed, he was still in the heat of the anger of realizing he’s not of blood relation to Nono. He lived his life as a lie, almost. This wasn’t even something he was told in confidence by Nono. It was something he had to find out indirectly. That is such a huge blow to someone, especially someone as prideful as him.

People don’t realize just how much that kind of thing can mess with someone. You’ll feel a lot of anger, hurt, and even betrayal in many cases. It can be traumatic and this is things that I’ve been told from people who had such circumstances happen in their family. It is trauma, despite how little it may seen on the outside. It shapes the way you view the world and your familial dynamics. For Xanxus especially it also changed the political game. It changed his stance, it changed his ‘ranking’ in a sense because he NEVER had the placement of being the next heir to the Vongola like he thought.

Tsuna/Tsu-chan being the rightful heir (due to no other living relations surviving) is not only a thorn in his side but a painful reminder of himself. They are the opposite of him. They lived the majority of their lives not even knowing about the Vongola or about how they had right to the ‘throne’ so to speak. It directly contrasts himself. The thing about (M)Tsuna is that he’s timid, he shows a lot of fear. He’s very ‘soft’ in the way he goes about things. That is not something the Vongola needs- that’s how he’d see things. Sure, Nono is also a pretty tenderhearted person, but he is a mafia boss.

I’m very sure that he knew how to harden his heart and do what must be done. It’s evident in the way that he literally caged Xanxus in ice. He will ultimately do what must be done- but he’s also very tender in the sense that he only caged Xanxus in ice instead of revealing the truth and ousting him or getting rid of him. HOWEVER, it also shows how cruel he can be. To be caged in ice, to be trapped in that time of your immense anger and hurt? That’s truly cruel. To not even allow Xanxus the time to really process through his grief and hurt, to rob him of YEARS of his time, possibly condoning him to being a man-sicle for years until maybe Nono’s death. Hard to say whether the ice made from Nono’s flames won’t melt after his death.

If so, imagine how awful that is? Xanxus may wake up in a totally different time, everything is different, and the one person he may have wanted to get answers from—is dead. No chance to even get any form of closure! That, to me, is INSANELY cruel.

Sorry, back on topic. If I’m correct in thinking Tsu-chan had more back bone when younger holds true, then at least Xanxus would take that into account and hate her less on the account of perhaps acknowledging that she may be a fit for the role. That she could possibly lead the Vongola. She won’t just lead them into the shitter like he probably thought (M)Tsuna would do with how soft he is. He probably hates Tsuna so much because of who he stands for, what he has the privilege of (and doesn’t even WANT- HOW DARE. FK YOU. I WISH I HAD WHAT YOU HAVE), and for how weak he seems. It would be a bad image for the Vongola. HIS Vongola, the one that SHOULD’VE been his—entrusted to this lil baby boy fledgling. It makes him so mad.

Though I think he’d have a better impression on Tsu-chan which would help. With her stronger emotional intelligence (bc frankly, Tsuna is very emotionally dumb as hekk but it’s understandable due to his lack of socialization. That’s a common result of a lack of socialization) she’d be able to perhaps notice how much pain he’s in. How much inner turmoil he’s going through with the impact of the news of his real bloodline being not of the Vongola. He isn’t truly Nono’s son.

From here, I think Tsu-chan would have a better way of dealing with Xanxus. I strongly doubt he would want to be consoled directly, because of his pride and his great disdain of the reality. How he found out. The betrayal. If Tsu-chan can navigate that well, break down some of his walls, become a small pillar that helps him on that road to healing from his hurt. The damage is done already, for sure, but it can get better. I mean, think about it. Tsu-chan also was never told about her lineage. She was suddenly thrown into a new life, one that she wasn’t warned about. One that she literally has no choice in the matter of. It’s a direct opposition of his situation, but it’s still very vexing.

I think in some way if she’s able to talk to him, and he can learn about her situation and how it affected her, it can open him up to some things. Not pity her situation, because it is something he wanted (to be the boss), but he can sympathize with the fact that they were both in a sense victims of the circumstances of adults not telling them things. Not giving them the time to warn them of what was to come, and certainly not giving them the time to truly process things. Tsuna was quite literally told lol you’re the next boss, no you have no choice in the matter. Oh by the way all these people are after you because of who you are. Ye you gotta fight. You gotta watch your friends suffer.

OH!!!! Sending you off to the future. You could die. BRO. Tsuna had NO TIME TO REST. nO TIME TO REALLY HEAL. NO TIME TO PROCESS HIS LIFE. NO WONDER he was so adamant about wanting out. No wonder he gets so prickly with Reborn. It’s very reasonable! (Fite me world, it’s reasonable. I think the ending where he’s like nah I don’t want this was actually quite fitting. The WORLD can fite me on this. I don’t think that part was a bad ending. I hate the yakisoba scene and that’s what made the ending bad for me lol)

Depending on how things progressed between them, I can maybe… see Xanxus trying to offer some help to her. Give advices or help with resources if she needed it. She may be stuck in a situation she didn’t want to be in, but based off what I’ve seen of her, I think she is more accepting of it than Tsuna was. Assuming that to be true, that isn’t a demerit towards her. IF she is trying her best despite being so new to things and not having been born into the life like a lot of them were- he’d have to give her some credit for trying. He would ultimately decide that for the sake of HIS Vongola, he wants her to be the best and strongest boss that she could possibly be.

In doing so, they form a stronger sense of trust and respect for each other. It’s wayyy more subtle in canon because of how much he hates Tsuna lol. I think in Tsu-chan’s verse it may be more obvious, depending on how things played out.

If it plays out in this sort of way, I do think they could be a ship. It would need a lot of work and it may not be the most wholesome of ships because of there being differences in rank, his pain, and the fact that he probably will forever be angry about the fact he couldn’t be the boss. Though, what can you do? It’s the mafia. It won’t all be pretty rainbows.

If I had to say, the theme for this kind of ship is one where they see each other through an inverted mirror and see how the other is struggling through the reality they didn’t want. Seeing that, it makes them want to help each other in small ways and from that comes the respect and comfort.

Let’s see… I did promise some(?) cute(?) ideas perhaps for a ship.

Perhaps by TYL time or even after that, where Xanxus has processed a lot of his trauma and has seen Tsu-chan blossom into a respectable boss that she is, he has to (secretly begrudgingly) accept the fact that she’s a good boss, one fit for the Vongola. She is his boss. (In canon I think Nono will forever be his boss, fuck Tsuna. You aren’t my boss you lil fuck. That’s his energy, I feel) IMAGINE? Just a scene of him taking her hand kissing the back of it and ‘Though you aren’t the one I wanted at the mantle of the Vongola, you have proven yourself to be worthy. To the Boss, I pay respect.” JUST IMAGINE THAT. The prideful guy admitting that after years. I FOAM at the mouth.

So, a part of my HC is that because he is so full of rage that it morphed his flames, imagine that with prolonged exposure and association with Tsuna, he calms down some and his leadership skills are a lot less violent and angry. He calms down and is more of a vision of who he was before. The very Xanxus that Squalo wanted to support and follow. Just imagine others noticing how his rage flame is less and less prominent as he heals by her side and his sky flames eventually become purer and they all know that it is due in part to her influence. That is until something happens to Tsu-chan and then the full brunt force of the rage flame resurfaces again. Ahhhh YESSSSSS I LIVEEEEEEE for when guys just SNAAAP!!!! GO GET EM TIGER! THAT’S THE ENERGY I LIKE. The chaotic destruction. Ahhhhhhhhh Sorry that’s not cute, is it? (IT IS TO MEE!!!!!!!)

I don’t see Xanxus being the type to really fluster. I can see a scene where maybe she tries to flirt with him and doesn’t get much of a reaction from him because he doesn’t feel like reacting (lol) and so she maybe one day surprises him with a surprise lil kiss. He goes silent and stares at her—and it’s so disappointing bc like REACT, YOU FUCKING WALL OF A MAN!!!! GET FLUSTERED! But no. He just grabs her and kisses her as a response because he’s more retaliatory than reactionary. Yess… is what I want. I like. I want it.

So yeah, those are some of my thoughts. No idea if any of that made any sense but I tried!!!

[redolentgrove]

[@ask-north - Wisteria @ Loki] Wisteria gleefully approached Loki with North not far behind her, She however quickly began to stare in awe at the taur just as she did the first time they met. The tiny ghost didn't look like she did before, but she acted all the same. "Your dress is sooo pretty!!" She suddenly shouted before lowering her voice in embarrassment, "Oh… Uhm. Do you remember me?" She asked, The ghost sounded a bit sad and worried but her happiness quickly returned.

"Wait!! Did you come here to have fun too!? Oh! Oh! Did you bring any friends? Can I meet them? I brought my friend too! See? See?" She proudly gestured to North. "We didn't have any pretty dresses though…" She trailed off, before giving Loki a nervous smile. "… Can I still meet them even if I don't have a pretty dress too?"

Loki had been enjoying a small glass of sparkling wine, when Wisteria appeared in front of her. The not-ghost's voice seemed so familiar as she spoke all excitedly. She couldn't quite place it right away, but after looking into the child's eyes for a moment… she nodded. It was immediately clear; this was the same ghost that had adopted her as a mother. Once again, the eyes didn't lie; even disguised as a human, Wisteria's identity couldn't escape Loki's keep senses. And that attitude… the sheer excitement and awe were undeniable.

"Ah…" she mused, striding up to Wisteria and ruffling the hair on her head. "How could a mom ever forget her little girl? You know… I don't even think you told me your name when you 'adopted' me, did you? Did I even tell you mine? I'm Jolokia. Jolokia Capsicum Aniseed… or just Loki works, too!" She chuckled softly at that, turning her head to spot North when the younger 'ghost' pointed her out. "I see! It's good that you have a friend here to keep you company. Don't worry; you don't need a giant dress like mine to meet my friends and family."

Just then, Bijoux padded alongside her mother, headtilting at the pair of humans. She looked over at Wisteria specifically, noticing the more ghostly features on her body. The Cinccino-taur waved shyly at both her and North, letting out a soft squeak in greetings.

"Hello, little ones," she offered, despite being only slightly taller than North herself. The normal-type's tail swayed in rhythm, and she looked over at Loki. "I hope Mom hasn't given you any trouble."

"Speak of the family," Loki mused, gently patting Bijoux on her left shoulder. "This sweet bundle of fluff is my daughter, Bijoux Kylar Aniseed."

"Mom, sheesh, really? Whipping out the middle names in front of strangers?"

"Hey, we're at a nice event. It's okay to be a little more formal in introductions." The hybrid smirked and nodded toward the Cinccino-taur curtly. "And besides, one of these 'strangers' sees me as a mother figure. She's not always a human, either; she's, last I checked, a Misdreavus on most days. Though this other human, I can't recall meeting the last time I saw this ghost-but-not-currently…"

"Ugh, seriously, Mom, can you not go anywhere anymore without becoming someone's Mom or Aunt? The family tree already has enough tangled webs with me being like, half-sister to someone who has thirty-something generations of descendants…"

"To be fair," Loki quipped, "she asked me if I was like a mom from like the instant she saw me. I can't say no to such sweet, awestruck eyes! You know how weak I am to that! But anyway, Bijoux... shouldn't you be testing your harp to make sure it's ready for your performance? It's got to be coming up soon..."

( @ask-north )

((Mod Notes: Due to general burnout and a cramped RL work schedule, current asks in the inbox for the Gala event will be answered, but in a somewhat abbreviated style like this. A final post with Bijoux's musical act will be put up toward the final days, but our active participation in the Gala has come to a close. Apologies to all who hoped to see more of Loki and company, but I don't feel it's fair to everyone to not be able to give everything my fullest attention at an event like this. And certainly not so with anyone who has our asks in their inbox and might have wanted a more fleshed-out interaction...))

[circus-and-shenanigans]

✵Info!✵

✧About the mun:✧

-Hello! You can call me Eli (she/her), nice to meet you!

-I'm 26+ so I would appreciate if people wanting to rp were 18+ as well.

-English is not my first language, so please bear with me if something sounds wrong/weird. My time zone is GMT+2.

-Lately I've been having some time between hands, so I might reply more than once a day.

-Feel free to message me for plot ideas or just general chatting, I don't bite and I enjoy talking about characters and the series!

-I suck at making things look pretty and aesthetic in posts, so I hope that isn't a deal breaker :')

-I'm mostly on my phone answering things* and It's been around 10 years now since I last used Tumblr, so when it comes to cropping posts--- I'm SO sorry if they take up too much space anywhere, I'll try to figure it out in time!

-* regarding that bit about my phone, I also apologize in advance if some badly written words worm their way into my replies-- I definitely should proofread more.

✧About the writing/rp:✧

-Oc, multi-muse, au, multiverse and doubles friendly.

-Multiship account! So yes, shipping with my characters is ok!

-I prefer 3rd person, literate, multi-para replies, the quantity won't bother me as long as I have something nice to reply to. You aren't obligated to match the length of my replies, don't worry!

-Heavy topics might get mentioned here and there through my writing/character, so if that's something you find uncomfortable and you don't like, let me know in advance. Said heavy topics are mentioned in the oc's page. I'll also make sure to tag them appropriately.

-I feel like any and all kinds of scenarios are pretty much welcomed, meaning nsfw and sexual topics are on the table as well as others, like gore and violence. I'm ok with practically anything being done to my character, so don't worry about being too much.

-Canons I play are Buggy and Penguin, this is the page dedicated for them where I'll add small headcanons from time to time.

-I'm up to create cerses for my muses so we can rp or come up with more interesting plots!

-Muse doesn't equal mun, even tho it's obvious, I just wanted to get it writen down, just in case.

-The connections to canon characters can be revised for the sake of your comfort and the rp if you aren't ok with my oc previously knowing them/having a past with them. Same can be said about my canons, I'll assume certain connections are pre-stablished by the series' plot. Either way, everything can be worked around!

-I suck at tagging reblogged stuff, so if you are searching for specifics it'll get a bit messy--

-I'm not good at fight rps, so I might stay away from those.

-There's never a rush to reply to my stuff in the same way I expect to not be rushed to reply things, this is something for fun, not some sort of job!

[charkyzombicorn]

Hi hello there. I got personally mental ill over Ocean God Jinbe and his war against drugs/ devil fruits. I was just barely holding myself back by the skin of my teeth due the sheer plethora of ask you already have. But I can do it no longer. My apologies . I've been living alone in my musings for too long.

Okay to start! This question has been rattling in my head!

When a devil fruit lands in the sea, what happens? (In one piece the ocean treats it like a regular old fruit but Jinbei is an active Force with thoughts) Does he Yeet that out of the water like "yo get that shit out of my turf" or they sink like rocks ( Guess what land fuckers you don't get to eat them. I took them out of circulation) . He hates these fruits so much. I can't see him being normal about them in their raw un eaten form.

(I know the second one probably won't happen canonically but him just having several grand devil fruit cave that he just Chucks them into. caves that have little pockets of air so he doesn't have to touch them ever again- is really funny and far too proactive .) ( It could be both. it'd be real funny if it was both. If he gets too sick and tired of yeeting/ floating a damn fruit around he will take them and put them on a Shelf still far too close to him but at least it's not running around.)

( It's probably the smartest thing he could do and to prevent it from happening to all the fruit maybe he'll just get yelled by brook???? or betrayers - fish mens that want profit and/or power - keep raiding the fruit cave - sells the fruits - putting them back into circulation.)

It could be a known element where there's Fishman guards AND )

Like I said. I'm getting far too into it. And there's more thate. Gods aren't supposed to be this involved. I know. It is probably going against something that you've already written down. I know. but I needed to get this out of my head.

Hello! I've been procrastinating on answering more asks but I love this I'm so sorry I can't answer things quickly typically

It depends on the fruit! Paramecia and Logia he stashes where he hopes they will never be found, but never close together because if a wandering D manages to find where he hid one they won't find multiple (D's are good at doing exactly what Jimbe doesn't want them to do, or most or all of the gods, it takes a while for Jimbe to understand why Luffy made this will to oppose the gods but he gets it eventually). The closest devilfruits to eachother Jimbe will risk are the 3-4 stuck in glaciers on an island made of ice, and those are the ones like the pet fruit that he's especially morally disgusted by, because he can sort of half-guard them in ice (ice is a mix between water and rock in this au so Brook also knows they're there). Zoans, however, have souls. Jimbe is deeply invested in souls having freedom, even ones made to live as objects or parasites, even ones he hates so distinctly. He takes Zoans to Chopper, since he is god of creatures, and trusts Chopper to care for the souls (even if that means giving the fruits to those Chopper deems worthy).

Also, every god makes up their own rules for interacting with the world, but the general consensus is not to rule over any part of it. None of the gods really Want to rule the world or any other world (except Maybe Teach but Teach wants to rule his void and clean it of anything and everything to exist so idk if that counts). The gods are guides and observers mostly, now that the world is made and it's cycles are mostly self-sufficient. If the gods really disagree they either avoid eachother or fight and fighting just hurts the world they love so most arent fans and will join in until the fight is all against one.

[chunibyo-x-sorcerer]

As a sorcerer, it is a curse yet as a blessing, that's what I am. For I am Daichi Pheon-X, a sorcerer who fights evil spirits with the flames of the Dark Pheonix within me. And Oh, this is my trusted partner, Eito! Nice to make your acquaintance!

A JJK OC blog focused on adventure, crack! and feel good rps. but also open to dark themes and angst!

Rules,

Daichi & Eito,

Verses

For Mobile Readers who want to know about Daichi & Eito on Mobile. Click here.

Rules under read for mobile

Hi everyone! This is Dani, manager of Daichi! I am 25+ old. So here are the rules No hate or drama – I don’t follow people who stir up either.

I usually follow back when it’s a fellow RP blog.

I do not rp smut with Minor RPERS ( That is illegal )

I don’t mind OCs or any fandom, but if it’s a fandom I don’t know about then I might send you an ask so you can help me fill in what the fandom is about if it’s confusing. It will help us both! Or maybe surprise me!

As for OCs! I love OCS. After all, I am rping OC. That said, I don’t mind characters that seem like “sues”. So if you're a rper who is worried about your OC being 'sue', please let me know so I can help out. After all, I know the feeling when starting out as OC rper. I believe as an artist and writer, RPers can help one another, especially when they’re new to the game! I think building an OC is a starting point, what they need is a journey. By 'journey' I mean by threads to see how your OC reacts with their surroundings and the world in general. I believe it's a good way to build character development. OCs never stay what they are at the beginning. They grow. After all, OCs are like our babies, right?

That said, if I notice that you do not wish to develop well-balanced characters when getting feedback after several threads, I can’t follow you or RP with you any longer if it's not working.

Godmodding is not permitted. I won’t do it, so don’t please do it either. However, certain situations with an OP muse ( especially canon muses)  are acceptable, but I would prefer to plot it out (especially in a fight scene) before your muse does anything to mine ( like who wins or loses or ending in a draw or the fight is interrupted by external factors).

As for the font sizes, I can change the font size to match your writing style in a thread if you wish. If my font or format is hard to read or the opposite, just ask!

I have some trouble with my grammar, but if we’re writing together, I invite you to correct it. Sometimes I get overly excited and write as fast as I think and even after double-checking, I might miss a few things like typos or grammatical errors. My apologies and please let me know if I have a typo or is there anything confusing to you, I make sure to fix it right away.

Please message me or inbox me if you have ideas for plotting. I love plotting threads and planning them.

If I made a mistake in the thread, or if the reply is at all confusing, please! Just PLEASE tell me in IM or ask and I can fix it! If there’s a need for any clarification, please ask me and I will answer right away.

I might not get to every one of my threads every single day. I am sorry for any delay, but I can’t write if I’m stuck and I can’t write if I’m pressured. I won’t pressure you, so please don’t pressure me. This should be fun, right?

I create supporting characters or NPCs ( characters that are part of the story thread to move the plot along, like think of it as a mission or case.). If you need clarification, please hit me up.

I also draw my own icons! This includes Eito and Daichi/Kisho. Please, please, please do not take them without permission. I put a lot of effort into them by drawing them.

Note: if I unfollow you which is HIGHLY unlikely for me to do so….please assume it’s a Tumblr glitch or misclick on mobile  ( like I misclick the follow button when I want to click on the ask button and then follow you back which is a likely cause ) which does happen. It happened to me a few times and to others as well. If I plan to unfollow you, I will soft-block you and not refollow after a week. Because of this, if you unfollow me whether I unfollow you first or not ( and I don’t remember that happening.) I will send you an ask to confirm if it’s a Tumblr glitch. If that is not the case, please ignore the ask and I will understand thinking it’s a softblock and I will move on after a week of waiting. There are times when tumblr glitch happens to me!

Interacting with Daichi/Kisho

I love fighting and serious rp, as well as crack! So I’m flexible!

I have no qualms about writing problematic and dark themes. I mean this is JJK, right? Things get crazy.

I don’t mind RPing action, gore, dark or anything! (romance is rare)

Speaking of romance, romantic relationships are rare for me. If you request one, it needs chemistry and time between our muses ( a slow burn) especially if they have incredible dynamics. I don’t like when relationships between our muses don’t develop and go straight to romantic without any reason. I do not mind if your muse wants to date my muses but you must ask and it needs to have a good reason why though. I recommend a good story with a reasonable plot that can possibly build up a romantic relationship between them over time. That said, I have the right to disapprove if I feel if it doesn’t work out.

As for other ships, I mostly prefer platonic, rivalry, mentorship, friendship, enemies, frenemies, dependence, familial, sisterhood, brotherhood, and bonding. Again, romance is pretty rare for me but I’m not against it, it just needs development between our muses to get there. 

That said, I do not ship adults with minor muses in romance ships.

One more thing! You have  FULL permission for your muses to hit and discipline Daichi/Kisho, if he does something stupid or says the dumbest things. It is allowed and encouraged. Sometimes that guy needs a reality check and it’s a way to pull the reins on him if he does something crazy that is dangerous. So if your muse has the urge to smack him upside the head or bonk him because he does or says something stupid, please feel free. 

I think that’s all for now! If there is something that is not in the rules that you need to ask or have concerns about. Please let me know.

With that said, thank you so much for reading the rules! I appreciate it so let's have some fun!

[zoomingupthathilla]

You have reblogged posts about how hard it is having a female muse and you've liked other peoples posts about it, implying you have a hard time in the rpc because you have a female muse. I don't see the lack of rp partners.

-- I wasn't sure how to answer this.. bc it's a little out of left field, and it almost feels as if you're coming at me -- which if i'm being honest is kind of off putting.

That being said ... yes, I have reblogged posts in the past & probably will in the future. Having a female muse is hard. Whether you see the effort put into Max or not -- My having RP partners isn't bc a lack of trying. I'm trying to answer this nicely, so I apologize if I come off rude in anyway, but ...... I try v hard to keep Max relevant. Obviously she's canon, so I always have that, but it's easy to get lost in the hustle and bustle of every day RP. I put myself out there, insert her on posts that maybe I am not necessarily a part of (srry if I insert her too much guys) .. -- she isn't just there doing nothing & getting people to write with her.

Could I do more? definitely! do I sometimes get overwhelmed and take a step back, for sure.. -- but it is absolutely a struggle writing a female muse. & it doesn't help that she is an underaged high school girl.

Female muses are a struggle, but there are days when it's so worth the struggle. Having people notice how much I love Max, or how much I put into her development, and reach out with plot ideas? Or reach out asking if I want to write? honestly one of the best feelings. BUT I get there by trying. I didn't get 'lucky'...

I feel like I repeated myself a few times, and this is sort of all over the place -- but i truly didn't know how to answer this, so I hope this clears things up? If not , well i'm not sure what else to tell you.. bc there wasn't an actual question , just a general statement that makes me assume you think I have it easy.