#if you tag them as ship I will find you and rip you a new one

[terrietont]

They are such sibling energy

[mokulule]

The Number You have Called Cannot Be Reached - part 8

Part 1 | Masterlist

Ship: Dead on Main (Danny/Jason) Warnings: angst/depression and canon typical violence So I promised this like months ago, and then got overwhelmed by having to manage the taglist resulting in me not updating this fic despite actually having written the next part. So that said this is the last time I'm tagging people, please subscribe to the masterlist - I'm gonna link it both here at the top and at the bottom. Anyways enjoy the next part:

Jason could handle this. He had handled this for years. The Pits were a known enemy. It shouldn’t effect him to this degree. But he could handle this. He could go about his day without putting heads in duffel bags, that had got to count as a win. The fact that he was avoiding his family, was just a precaution. Jason had everything under control.

Not like when he’d fled the Cave after assaulting Bruce in his stupid sweater.

That had not been his proudest moment. But the thing that really got to him was how he didn’t remember doing it. He didn’t even remember going to the Cave. When he tried to think it was all a green haze. The last moment of real clarity was opening Ghost’s bag and seeing nothing but dry protein bars. Knowing in his gut this was all he ate and that he stood with his food, and no way to give it back to him.

When he had fled the Cave, he’d gone home shaking like a leaf, and sunk to the floor trying to get his head back on straight. He didn’t know how long he sat there with his back against the door, just trying to breathe and search his memory. Eventually, though he didn’t know after how long, he found his phone and looked up the news. It had been a great relief to find that Red Hood had not been sighted, so he likely hadn’t been out on a murder spree he couldn’t remember.

But now it was days later. There had been no more green hazes. Things were under control.

Maybe he hit a bit harder, and a bit longer, when he went out. But it was the normal amount? Wasn’t it? Definitely not much more than normal, if it was more. That he was sure of… like 80% sure of. Jason rubbed the front of his helmet in lieu of his brow - It didn’t really help. What had Bruce even said that set him off? He barely remembered, something that felt demeaning, but the words escaped him no matter how many times he turned them over in his head. Normally he wouldn’t question himself that like, of course Bruce would have said something demeaning, he always did. He didn’t trust Jason, never would again. There would always be suspicion and doubt. But now…

Jason’s hand clenched into fists. Now having been without the Pits’ influence, having seen Bruce trying to reach out to him, as awkward and resigned as it had been, he wasn’t so sure.

He wasn’t sure he could trust himself.

Maybe this was all Bruce’s plan? Another of his famous gambits - this one to fold Jason back under his control, with the pretense of love and family. Because surely he had been right all along and Jason needed to be watched, couldn’t be trusted on his own.

Jason ripped the helmet off his head, only barely stopped himself from throwing it. He gasped and breathed in deep, like a man drowning. He was the one in control, he reminded himself firmly. Not the pits. Not Bruce.

There was sound in his comms and he hastily pulled the helmet back on. Ghost had been sighted. He had to go. If he could just talk with Ghost, figure out what this was.

Ghost ran away. Immediately, as if he could sense Jason.

It was okay, Jason could handle this.

Oo o oO

Barbara tapped the space bar absently without actually pressing it. Keeping half an eye on her leftmost monitor which showed the program she used for the surveillance in Gotham, no persons of interest were pinging tonight so far, no alarms had tripped for about an hour. She had time to ponder the conundrum that was their reoccurring thief.

If the thief was building something the other night was proof the loss of the spectral calibrator, hadn’t put a stop to the progress. The thief never ran in the same direction so they still didn’t even have that to go by to narrow down where he stayed, when he wasn’t giving them the run around.

The odd reaction to Jason hadn’t made a reappearance. In fact the moment Jason joined them the thief disappeared immediately: density shifting into the ground. Jason was not happy about it to say the least.After the backpack full of barely edible off-brand protein bars had been delivered to the cave by Jason, Barbara would agree with Jason that whatever situation the thief was in, it was worrying if this was all that he ate. She still held by her assessment that the photographic evidence was of too low quality early in their run-ins because of the strange electromagnetic interference he gave off to actually judge if he’d lost weight - but he did look very gaunt now.

She leaned back in her chair. A cup of coffee was warm between her hands, she breathed in the familiar scent as she considered the known facts.

Name assumed to be Danny Fenton, potentially legally Daniel Fenton, though they’d been unable to find a match to his physical appearance and rough age in their databases. He hadn’t actually spoken to any of them, it was a very real possibility he was a foreigner, but they’d checked and he wasn’t wanted by any foreign intelligence services.

The phone was baffling.

It was a brick, and it looked like something from the early 00s, from around the time when handheld phones really started to be something everyone had.

Tim had asked for Barbara’s help after he hadn’t been able to recover the erased text messages for some days. Tim had filled her in on his discovery that while all the numbers coded into the phone led to a “the number you have called cannot be reached” message when called from the phone - some of the numbers were actually active when looked up; the Jazz one led to a pizza place and the Dad number led to an elderly woman with Chinese heritage who had no relation to anyone named Danny or Fenton. The rest of the numbers weren’t currently in use.

It was odd however that despite those two numbers being in use, they still got the cannot be reached message. Tim had suggested the program which made the phone able to piggyback on the mobile network without a sim was faulty, but it had been easy enough for Barbara to disprove by calling a local number which connected with no problem. Tim was brilliant but sometimes he got too caught up in his complicated theories that he forgot the simple things.

Her recovery program for the text messages had just finished running (this was her third attempt). She took a sip of coffee, leaned forward and promptly nearly spat it out when she saw the result. It went down the wrong pipe when she tried to recover and she coughed and sputtered. Carefully she put her cup on her desk before she spilled it.

Finally her airways were clear and she rubbed the bridge of her nose. Somehow this was Dick’s fault.

She had recovered the messages. They were there - time stamps and all. The last message received was over a decade ago in 2009 and wasn’t that ominous? But that was a side note to be pondered later, because the contents of the messages, oh this was malicious.

Somehow, before deletion every single message had been changed to “Ghost”.

Not just a single ghost, no, entire messages teasing at their original length, but just changed into ghost ghost ghost ghost ghost. A whole litany of ghosts.

And it was definitely Dick’s fault.

Next

So that was it, hopefully I will be able to get back in the swing of things now. Commentary and tags are a great motivator and I read them all. As stated this is last time I tag people, so in the future you can subscribe to the masterlist or on Ao3 where the edited and hopefully better version eventually goes up.

Tag list of doom part 1:

@thewondersoflebanon | @gin2212 | @busterkeel | @apointlessbox | @spoopyspoony | @charlietheepic7 | @proper-idiocy | @serasvictoria02 | @zgirlly | @emeraldcorpral | @mushroom-jack | @v-inari | @8-29pm | @quirky-gardener | @vehan-tikkun-olam-and-stuff | @mars-the-witch | @elthepickle | @thegatorsgoose | @impulsiveasshole |

@tired-yet-awaken | @luagi-the-bestest | @britcision | @autumnwulf | @little-pondhead | @asphyxia778 | @sarina-elais | @may-rbi | @onlyhereforthechaos | @somuchyikes | @yjfk | @rosiea184 | @screamingtofillthevoid | @ailithnight | @writer-extraodinaire | @samgirl98 | @hanahaki-disease | @riverdancingwerewolves |

[ssaeri]

we fall to ashes

☆ tags: alex x gn!reader, he finds something that he never expected to see on your farm, this was going to be angst with an angst ending, but then my sister begged me to not write a sad ending, so have this relieving happy ending instead, LOTS of alex spoilers! ☆

Alex stretches his arms over his head and breathes in deep. In the distance, he hears chickens screaming—a sure sign that he's getting closer to your farm. The walk from his house isn't short, but while his grandparents would complain about the distance, he finds it ideal for cooling down after his harder work-outs. And he gets to see you at the end? He'd say that's a winner winner chicken dinner situation...out of earshot from your coop, at least.

"Hey there! Evelyn's boy!" Pam calls from his right.

He slows to a stop and waves. She sits in the driver seat of her newly repaired bus, window fully open, and takes another swig from her Joja Cola. Immediately, her face scrunches.

"Mornin', Pam!" he yells back. "How's that alcohol detox going for you?"

"Awful." She smacks her lips and holds the can up to her eyes, searching the ingredients for what makes it so fucking nasty. You often joke that it's the bitter taste of capitalism. "I could go for something stronger in this heat. You think the farmer has an extra glass of pale ale?"

Alex's smile tightens. Ever since Pam and Penny's trailer turned into an actual house, Pam's been doing her best to break old habits and he's glad for it—he can finally walk by her without the reflexive gag and hurried steps. You telling me I stink? she used to ask, angry in her drunken stupor, until she remembered why he showed up on his grandparents' steps nearly two decades ago.

She must read it in his expression now because she waves him off with a roll of her eyes. "I'm kidding, kid. Tell 'em I said hi. They're the only one who takes this damn bus anyway. I might as well take a nap." She slides sunglasses onto her face and reclines her chair until he can't see her anymore. "If I'm still here by the time you go home, wake me up."

Classic Pam, he thinks as he continues to your farm. Your dog is already running from the front door to greet him, panting and barking and disturbing your horse's peace.

"Come on, buddy," he laughs, shooing your dog until he can push open the gate. "I was supposed to surprise them."

Alex scratches your horse's ear as he passes its stable. Grape vines twist and sag on the trellises you've set up for the season, the structures nearly bursting with fruit, and he makes a mental note to stop by tomorrow to help with the harvesting. Maybe it could substitute for a work-out. He's helped you ship boxes of produce before and wondered how ripped he'd be after a month of your lifestyle. Between the trellises, the melons are just starting to come in. He doesn't know how long it takes for them to ripen, only that they taste really good when you drop off a basket for his grandma.

He calls out your name. Not in the fields, not in the pasture. Your new greenhouse, maybe? You were muttering something about ancient fruit last night. Or the mushroom cave, something he still can't believe is a feature on your farm. If Demetrius could add that, maybe Alex could talk you into installing an outdoor lifting station.

He walks past your workbench and active machines...

...and walks backwards again, hoping that his eyes are deceiving him. Crystalariums reproducing diamonds to sell, charcoal kilns working double time for enough coal, bone mills churning out fertilizer, geode crushers crunching rocks into pebbles, furnaces roaring as they smelt ores into bars—and right on top of the furthest furnace sits a wrapped bundle he's only seen in his (second to) worst nightmares.

He hears your content humming now, somewhere in the main farmhouse. Under normal circumstances, he would've called it cute, but the sound rings mockingly in his ears as he approaches the darkened flowers. A wilted bouquet. Fuck.

.

.

"Oh, hey there!" Alex called out as you got closer. He tossed his ever-present gridball into the air. "You here to catch fish again? I think you can find salmon in the river this time of year. At least that's what I heard."

Once you came to a stop in front of him, you shook your head, hands still behind your back. "I'm not fishing today," you said. "I actually wanted to give you something."

"Yeah?" His lips quirked into a grin. Another toss into the air. "Wouldn't happen to be a Salmon Dinner with extra lemon, would it? Those are one of my favorites, but I can never catch any salmon myself. Another egg would be cool, too. I've been adding your weekly deliveries to my workout meals."

You only shifted from one foot to the other, unable to take your eyes off his shoes, and a part of him faltered. You weren't intimidated by him, were you? Ever since you found him crying on the beach, he had been a little more flirtatious than usual, layering on the teasing and showing off. Maybe he came on too strong. Haley always told him that subtlety wasn't his strong suit. The grip on his gridball changed as he tossed it higher.

"You okay there? Did I do something...wait, this is—ow!"

The ball bounced off his head and landed in the grass, but he couldn't care less. He pointed to the bouquet in your hands. Not a regular bouquet, but the Bouquet made to order by Pierre. In a place as small as Pelican Town, there was no need for Pierre to have it in constant stock, so when the signature blooms made the rare appearance, they attracted everyone's eyes.

"...you want to get more serious?" he asked, incredulous.

Something in your expression changed, and you drew the flowers back to your chest. "Oh, sorry, did you not?" You gave him a wide smile, already stepping away. "I must've read the signs wrong. My mistake."

"No! That's not—I mean, you read the signs correctly. I, uh, I feel the same way." He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling his face flush. "So I guess we're together now? Should I be asking you out on a date or something? Or wait, are you asking me out on a date? How does this work?"

You laughed, a genuine sound this time. "We can continue the way we were before."

And so you did, but some things changed for sure. He could hold your hand now as you ran errands around the town, carrying half of the gifts you handed out to the townspeople. He could kiss you goodbye at his door in the evenings, though George cleared his throat loudly every time. Alex remembered making some snide comment about his grandpa, who yelled out a gruff I heard that! before being shushed by Evelyn. When It Howls in the Rain was being shown at the town theater, you bribed him to a screening with the promise of Stardrop Sorbet, but as much as he loved the treat, he would've gone anyway—it was one of his favorite movies with one of his favorite people. Good thing he'd seen it before because he spent most of the time staring at your side profile, wondering when he could finally go pro and have you stare at him on a screen.

.

.

Your dog nips at his fingers. He pets it absently. He thought everything was going fine between the two of you. Just yesterday, you came over and had dinner with him and his grandparents. You told them about your mining adventures in the Skull Caverns and, to his horror, showed off your old stitches from Harvey. (George chided your reckless behavior and gave old-timey advice that you nodded along to.) You talked about the new farm you're setting up at Ginger Island—Ancient Fruit wine all year! you told them excitedly. It's a farmer's heaven!—and the Beach Resort you're trying to restore. (Evelyn hummed at your energy, asking rapid-fire questions about the flora there.) You even promised to bring over a season's worth of eggs and leeks as soon as you got your hands on them. (Alex's mind flashed to the old mariner and the mermaid's pendant he could see hanging around your neck in the future.)

So why is a wilted bouquet sitting here, right on top of your furnaces?

No point in guessing when he can just find out the answer right from the source. He takes the flowers and goes to your door, knocking twice. It opens before he has time to second guess his choice.

"Alex! I didn't know you were coming over," you say, beaming at him. He wants to immortalize this version of you: face full of dirt smudges and t-shirt collar soaked through with sweat, yet glowing in your element. Until your eyes drop to his hands. "Oh, that's..."

He sets his jaw. "Can I come in and talk?"

Your expression falters further at his cold tone, but you step back and lead him to the living room. Your dog trots in and settles by the TV, head on its paws, watching with blank eyes. Alex sits in his usual spot and you yours, and suddenly he hates how familiar he is with your space.

It's still silent.

You clear your throat. "So," you start, wiping your palms on your jeans. A nervous tick he knows well. "What did you want to talk about?"

He puts the bouquet on the coffee table between you.

"Right." You pause, likely waiting for him to continue, but he doesn't say anything. "Alex, can you at least be less mean about this? I feel like you owe me that much after all this time together." He says nothing. "Like, tell me what's wrong instead of sitting here stone-faced. Things were okay. Why are you breaking up with me—"

"Why am I breaking up with you?" He barks a laugh. "Baby, I found this outside on your furnace! I'm not going to beg for you to stay, but what the hell is this?"

Your forehead furrows. "What? I wouldn't."

"If it's not yours and it's not mine, then whose is it?"

"I don't know! Alex, I wouldn't—I never even thought about breaking up," you insist. "Why would I lie about that?"

After scrutinizing your stricken expression, his relief comes in waves. He sinks into your couch, hands rubbing at his face.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, just—" He laughs again, the sound mostly air. "Yoba, that scared me. If someone left this here as a prank, I'm hunting them down tonight." He lifts his head to look at you and opens his arms. "Can you come over here?"

You wrinkle your nose. "I'm gross."

"You could be playing in mud with your pigs, and I'd still jump in."

With a roll of your eyes, you hop over to curl into his side and he buries his face in the crook of your neck. You stink, but so does he after a good workout. Now that he thinks about it, he's still in his gym clothes.

"You scared me, too," you tell him, gaze trained on the table. "Not the best thing to see on a Friday afternoon. But now I want to know whose this is. Did you check it for clues?"

"Didn't bother. Thought it was yours." His arm around your waist tightens as you lean forward. "Does it matter?"

But that doesn't stop you. You have the bouquet in your lap now, prying at the blackened ribbon and wrapping. "Look at this," you say, holding it between two fingers. "The ribbon isn't blue, and Pierre always uses blue. The wrap is pretty much disintegrated, but this corner—he always puts his store brand." You suck in a breath. "Oh, duh! Where did you say you found this?"

"The furnaces right outside by the workbench."

"Okay, so mystery solved. This is mine, but not in the way you think."

He raises an eyebrow. "Explain. Don't say you're breaking up with a secret partner because I don't think I can handle a second shock right now."

"I made a wildflower bouquet to put on Grandpa's grave a few days ago, but I totally forgot where I put it, so I made a second one. This one must've been the one I misplaced."

He blinks. "How the hell did you not notice it since?"

"I came back from Ginger Island yesterday and went to sleep right after dinner! The flowers must've wilted from the furnace heat."

"You," he says slowly, pinching your cheek and ignoring your squeak, "are the absolute worst. I can't believe you nearly broke my heart and it turned out to be a whoopsie."

[vodika-vibes]

Just because I know how much you love, Jango.

Can I request a Jango and whatever you wish. Write away... love oo

Let Her Be Mine

Summary: When Jango Fett was 14 years old, his people were slaughtered and he was sold into slavery. His cell mate on the slave ship was a small girl, younger than him, though she had been a slave for much longer. Jango’s biggest regret is not acting before she was sold. And then he runs into her again...and this time he’s not letting go.

Pairing: Jango Fett x F!Reader

Word Count: 4134

Warnings: Slavery

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: Okay, this is a labor of love that took me days to write. A big thanks to @daimyosprincess for helping me with a sentence that was far too wordy. And thank you for giving me such an open ended ask, lol. I kind of just ran with it.

Jango remembers the first time he met her with surprising clarity. He remembers the feel of chains around his wrists, the heavy slave collar wrapped around his neck, and the scent of unwashed people and fear all around him.

And he remembers her.

She was younger than him by a couple of years, though she looked much younger. The rags that she was wearing, designed for men much larger than her, hung on her small frame like a dress. And razor thin scars crisscrossed her body like some kind of twisted tattoo.

She didn’t have a name, she told him with a small smile. A peaceful smile, as though she had accepted her lot in life and was okay with it.

Jango named her Sen’ika.

A little bird in a little cage.

The slavers shoved him into the same cage as her, claiming that they were both so small that they could share. In truth, he didn’t mind. She deserved to be protected, and surely even he couldn’t kark that up.

His Sen’ika became his reason for surviving. He learned to bite his tongue when the slavers came through, learned to take the beatings from men who beat down on people smaller than them just to make themselves feel important. He learned the importance of listening, rather than just reacting.

And when things were so bad that he couldn’t handle it, his Sen’ika would take his hand and curl against his side, and tell him that tomorrow will be better because it couldn’t possibly be worse.

She was always right.

And on nights when the darkness of despair blotted out all the light, when even his Sen’ika struggled to cradle that fragile flower of hope, Jango would tell her what freedom tasted like.

He’d weave the most amazing stories of the planets that they’d visit and the people that they’d meet and the places that they’d see—

It helped. It gave him something to cling to, and it bolstered her waning spirits. And she would flash him the tiniest of smiles, and Jango would feel ten feet tall.

He couldn’t be that terrible of a person if someone as kind as his Sen’ika smiled at him like that.

And then the auction happened.

And then his Sen’ika was sold. Ripped from from his arms and clapped with heavy chains that weighed her down, as though she was a threat.

They clipped her wings so that she might never fly free.

And the last time he saw his Sen’ika, was when she was being forced into the back of a van with the other children that her new owner purchased.

Jango remained a slave for ten years. Ten long, dragging, years.

Ten years where he never stopped hoping that he might see his Sen’ika again.

Ten years where he clung to life just on the off chance that his Sen’ika might still be out there.

And when Jango escaped, he did so in the bloodiest way possible, slaughtering anyone who might have tried to stop him. And a part of him was glad that his Sen’ika wasn’t on board, because she deserved more than this.

It’s been several years since then, and Jango is now pushing thirty.

He’s a rather prolific Bounty Hunter, having elected to stay away from Mandalore in the hopes of finally tracking down his Sen’ika. If nothing else, all evidence points to her still being alive...even if he can’t find her.

And that’s when he’s approached by the Jedi.

Now, Jango Fett has no love for the Jedi, with very good reasons. Jedi and Mandalorians mix about as well as oil and water on a good day, and the last time Jango saw a Jedi he was leading the slaughter of the True Mandalorians.

So Jango is less than thrilled at the arrival of the Jedi.

Somehow he’s even less thrilled when the Jedi inform him that they are reaching out to him on behalf of the Senate. But his ship needs some work and credits are credits, so he agrees to listen to them while mentally tacking several additional zeros to the end of the number that he usually charges for a job.

“I am sure that you are aware of the uprising in the outer rim.” The Jedi begins, “The Senate has been trying to reach out to the person who is currently leading the Pirates, to come to an agreement.”

“And?” Jango asks, bored out of his mind.

“And the Jedi they sent to negotiate were told to leave and not come back.”

Jango chokes back a laugh with great difficulty, “I fail to see how this is my problem.”

“We would like you to go and speak with them on our behalf.” The Jedi replies, “We think that they might be more receptive to someone more like me.”

“You mean you think I might be able to make contact because I’m closer to pirate than I am to cop.” Jango says with a sharp smile.

“I...didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.” He’s quiet for a moment, “Yeah, alright. I’ll take the job. I want half my fee up front.” In truth, he was going to reach out to these pirates anyway, they’re known for freeing slaves, and he’s hoping that they’ll have a good clue as to finding his Sen’ika.

The Jedi inhales sharply, and Jango arches a brow. “Problem?”

“This is...quite a lot.” The Jedi replies calmly.

“I’m very good at what I do. But, if you’re not interested-”

“No! No! The fee is fine,” The long haired Jedi hastens to reassure, “And you’re quite sure that you’ll be able to get them to talk?”

“I’m sure I can get them to hear me out. Anything else is on them.”

“That will have to be good enough, I suppose.” The Jedi muses thoughtfully, “Oh. Where are my manners. My name is Qui-Gon Jinn. It’s a pleasure to be working with you.”

Jango blinks once. Twice. A third time.

“I beg your kriffing pardon?”

“Oh yes, did I not mention? I will be joining you on this.”

“You did not.” Jango says through clenched teeth, “You did say that the Pirates kicked the last Jedi out.”

“Well, yes. They did.” He smiles politely and Jango wants to punch him in the face. “But you can’t speak for the Republic. So I need to be there.”

Jango grinds his teeth in annoyance, “Do you have a ship, Qui-Gon Jinn.”

“I do, in fact.” The other man says brightly. “I wouldn’t dream of trespassing on your ship, Mister Fett.”

Well, that’s something, at least.

“Fine. We’ll be leaving as soon as the credits are transferred to my account.” Jango says as he stands, “Pleasure doing business with the Republic.” And then he sweeps out of the dingy little bar to head back to his ship.

So much for him plans to search for his Sen’ika.

Whatever, the Jedi won’t be with him the whole time. Odds are he won’t even be allowed to land on Tatooine, which means he’ll be able to talk to them without being interrupted.

At least. He hopes so. If this Jedi ruins his one chance of getting usable data on where his Sen’ika is...Jango might actually kill him.

He makes the long trek back to his ship, he wasn’t kidding about leaving as soon as he got his payment. Though he fully expects the payment to take a few days. Since this is the government that he’s working with.

So, when he gets the initial credit transfer less than an hour later, Jango is genuinely surprised. Though, as he thinks more about it, he really shouldn’t be. The Republic is so eager to get ahead of this, that they’re willing to hire him, of all people, to help them deal with it.

“So,” He murmurs to the empty ship, “This is what a desperate Republic looks like.”

Three weeks later, Jango lands his ship in his assigned landing bay on Tatooine. He’s aware, vaguely, of the Jedi landing his ship only a few landing pads away, and he sighs.

He was kind of hoping that the Jedi would be barred from landing at all.

Jango pays the fee needed to keep his ship secured on this pad, and heads out of the spaceport, though he’s very quickly joined by the older man.

“Ah, Tatooine,” Qui-Gon says as he looks around at the city. “Have you ever been here before?”

“More than you, probably.” Jango replies, his eyes narrowing as people glance at them and whispers start spreading through the market. They’re not whispering about him, he’s been here many times and he’s never gotten this reaction before.

He glances at the man standing next to him.

The man clad in, obvious, Jedi robes.

And he sighs. So much for the more stealthy approach he was hoping for.

“Are you the representative from the Republic?” A woman, shorter than him and carrying an infant on her back, asks as she approaches the pair of men. She looks older than she actually is, if Jango had to guess.

“I am,” Qui-Gon said, “My name is Qui-Gon Ji-”

“I don’t care.” The woman interrupts, “You are a Jedi, yes? Your kind was told never to return to Tatooine.”

“This is true,” Qui-Gon flounders, “But my companion here is not authorized to speak for the Republic-”

“Then perhaps one of the Senators should have gotten out of their plush offices and come here themselves,” She interrupts again, and then she frowns, “Were it up to me, you’d be back on your ship and off my planet. But it isn’t.”

“You are to be our guide then?”

“I will guide you to the taxi stand and no further.” The woman says, “I have my own business I must attend to.”

The Jedi next to you, seeming unable to keep his mouth shut, just has to speak again. “Forgive me, but are you a slave for the new leader of Tatooine?”

The woman stiffens in offense, and Jango presses his hand against his helmet and shakes his head.

“Were you anyone else, and not a guest of our new Imperator-” She takes a deep breath and stalks away, “Follow, and stay close.”

The woman leads the men through the winding street of Mos Espa, until she stops by a taxi droid. She speaks to the droid and then stalks away, back to the market.

“Hm…” Jango sighs as Qui-Gon gazes after the woman thoughtfully, “Her child is very force sensitive.”

“If you think you can convince her to give him to you-” Jango says, sounding bored out of his mind.

“Ah...no. I think she might shoot me if I try.”

“Pity.”

“That she’d shoot me? Yes, I agree-”

“-that you won’t ask.” Jango interrupts, “Seeing you get shot would make this a slightly more interesting trip.”

Qui-Gon actually looks surprised at his words, hopefully it’ll keep him from talking overly much on the trip to the palace. Thought, Jango wouldn’t put money on it. The Jedi seems to like the sound of his own voice overly much.

And, true to his prediction, the older man started chatting with the Droid as soon as the speeder started moving. Not that the Droid was the chattiest of drivers. He’s a driver, not a tour guide after all.

Jabba the Hutt’s palace, ah no, it’s the Imperator’s palace now, looks just as it had the last time he was here. Worn down from age, with antenna sitting on the roof. The windows are open, though the heavy metal shutters are drawn low, to keep the twin suns from heating the building over much.

There are some difference too, though.

Jango’s fairly certain that those are solar panels attached on the sun facing side of the building. And it almost looks as though someone is trying to cultivate a cacti garden off to the side of the path.

That or the Imperator thinks that death by cacti is an appropriate punishment for interlopers.

Much to Jango’s surprise, they’re invited inside immediately, by a young twi’lek boy dressed much nicer than any twi’lek would have ever been allowed to dress while Jabba was in charge.

“You wait here.” The boy orders imperiously, before he turns and runs down the hall.

If the outside of the palace looks the same, the inside couldn’t be more different if they replaced the entire building. The formerly dimmed halls are well lit, and the walls, formerly covered in blood and other...unsavory...things, are now covered in tasteful tapestries.

Probably items that Jabba received as tribute over the years, Jango thinks with an amused smile as he steps away from the door and onto the new looking plush carpet that covers the hallway.

“I admit,” Qui-Gon murmurs, “This is not what I was expecting from someone called Imperator.”

“What, were you expecting slaves lining the halls or something?”

“...in a manner of speaking, yes.”

Jango takes a moment to remove his helmet, now that the twin suns aren’t beating down on him, “Are you karking stupid? These people free slaves. There aren’t any slaves on Tatooine anymore.”

“That...the reports the Jedi were given-” He’s cut off as a different child, this one a little Chiss girl, runs up. “Oh, hello.”

“The Imperator will see you in the throne room. He expects you both to keep your weapons sheathed while you are guests in our home.”

“Of course,” Jango agrees, “We wouldn’t dream of threatening the Lord of this place.”

The little girl nods, and focuses her attention on Qui-Gon, “This message is for you, Master Jedi.”

“I’m listening.”

“The Imperator is not happy that the Republic have ignored his wishes for no Jedi to trespass on his home, however, in the spirit of cooperation, he is willing to hear out what you have to say.”

“That is very magnanimous of the Imperator.”

“Yes,” The child agrees, “It is. Follow me please.”

The little girl leads them through the winding halls of the palace, and Jango takes the time to take in all of the changes. New coats of paint, flowers growing in pots, little mouse droids designed to travel the halls trailing perfume after them-

Jango much prefers this version, over the Jabba’s version of the same palace, which always smelled like blood and bile, even through his helmet.

The child stops in front of the throne room and pushes open the door, “Imperator, the Mando and the Jedi are here.” And then she moves to the side to let the two men into the room.

The Imperator is a Tholothian male, dressed in pirates armor. And, if Jango had to guess, he would easily be the same height as him, if not a little taller, though even with the armor, he’s much less broad and much more wiry.

Jango wouldn’t want to have to fight him hand to hand, that’s for sure. Which he knows that he’d win, it’d be a hard fought fight.

“Jango Fett,” The Imperator speaks with a crisp Coruscanti accent, which is rather jarring when compared to his more roguish appearance, “It’s always a pleasure to host a man of your caliber.”

Jango nods, once. Accepting the compliment for what it is.

“Master Jinn,” The Imperator’s voice goes cold, “Your presence is much less welcome in my home.”

“Yes, the Jedi apologizes for being unable to adhere to your request-”

“It was not a request, Master Jinn.” The Imperator interrupts, and the room descends into a, slightly awkward, silence before their host claps his hands together, “Now, I am willing to hear you out, however, not today.”

“Is there a reason that we can’t start negotiations today?” Qui-Gon asks.

“Yes. I don’t want to.”

And, well, that’s that.

“I have taken the liberty of preparing rooms for the both of you in my palace. Though, you will not be staying in the same part of the palace, I’m afraid.” The Imperator says, and he genuinely sounds grieved. Or he would if it wasn’t for the gleam in his eyes.

“You honor us,” Qui-Gon says politely.

“Indeed, I do. Master Jinn, you will be staying in the lower levels, it’s a bit cooler but also noisier. Jango, I have a room set up for you upstairs.”

“Thank you,” Jango replies.

The Imperator nods once, and there’s a look of mirth on his face before he waves his hand and the two children from earlier run into the room, “Please show our guests to their rooms.”

Jango falls into step behind the little twi’lek boy, who keeps glancing at him and giggling like he knows a secret. He’s not bothered, he remembers being a child, after all.

He’s also in a much better mood since he doesn’t have to spend anymore time with Qui-Gon Jinn.

“Have you heard a good joke, ad’ika?” Jango asks as the little boy glances at him and giggles again.

The child clamps his hands over his mouth and shakes his head, “We gotta surprise.” He whispers.

“A surprise? For me?”

“Uh-huh. But,” He leans in and lowers his voice, “It’s a secret! So-so...come on!”

The boy almost sprints up the stairs, though Jango follows at a more sedate pace, and he trails behind the boy until they stop in front of a door. There are plants sitting in planters on each side of the door.

“Here!” The boy presses a scrap of flimsy into his hand, “Here’s the door code!” And then he sprints off, giggling as he does so.

Well, Jango thinks to himself as he glances at the numbers on the scrap and starts keying them in, this is either the most obvious trap I’ve ever walked into, or it’s actually a surprise.

The door slides open and Jango steps into the room. And the first thing he notices is all of the green.

There are plants on every open surface. All sorts of plants from all over the galaxy.

The second thing he notices is that the vanity in the corner is covered in woman’s hair care products, and slowly his eyebrows raise. Surely the Imperator wouldn’t have given him a room that already belongs to someone, right.

Finally, he notices her. Dressed in loose, comfortable clothes, and kneeling next to a small table covered in succulents. And, at first he’s slightly bemused that he was shoved into another person’s room, and then he looks again.

And he realizes that he recognizes her.

He clears his throat, and she turns her head slightly, before she favors him with the warmest smile. “Jango.”

His helmet falls from his fingers, “Sen’ika.”

She stands, and she’s still so small and still so thin, and her skin is still covered in razor thin scars, “You remember me!”

“Of course. I never stopped looking for you.” Jango steps closer to her and reaches out, though he stops shy of actually touching her. Sen’ika doesn’t have any such qualms, as she takes his hand in both of hers and presses it against her cheek.

“I knew you wouldn’t.” She replies as she rubs her cheek against his gloved hand, “I knew that you’d find me eventually.”

Jango releases a shuddering breath and steps even closer into her space, before ripping his glove off and pressing his bare hand against her cheek, “I’m sorry I’m late.”

“That’s okay. I forgive you.”

Jango takes a moment to tug off his other glove and presses his hand back against her cheek, “Just look at you,” He breathes out, “You’ve grown up.”

She presses her hands over his, and there are tears in her eyes, “So have you. You’re not that scrawny kid anymore.”

“Scrawny?” Jango asks with a laugh.

“Scrawny.” She agrees. Her smile doesn’t waver when she releases his hands and reaches out to cup his cheek, “How have you been?”

“Lonely.” Jango admits, “It’s been...a very lonely galaxy without you with me.” This is the first time he’s admitted it, though he could never lie to his Sen’ika. “How about you?”

She leans her head into his touch, “Lonely. The Imperator he’s...great. But he’s not really a friend. And his people don’t like me much.”

“How could they not like you?”

She shrugs, “They say I have stars in my eyes. That I’m not meant for…” She gestures vaguely to the room, “This.”

He laughs softly, “And what are you meant for, then?”

“Well,” She averts her gaze for a moment, “You once promised me that you’d show me the galaxy.”

Jango stares at her, surprised.

“If that offer is still open-” She adds, hesitantly.

“You’d leave this? To wander through the stars with me?”

“It sounds...romantic, when you put it like that.” She says softly, wistfully.

“You think so?”

Her smile is small, “Wandering through the stars with the man I’ve loved since he was a boy? Sounds like a fairy tale.”

“Love, huh?”

Her smile doesn’t waver, “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. After all, I fell in love with a little girl who kept hope alive when I had none left.”

She looks surprised, “Oh. Really?”

“Really.” Slowly he leans in and presses his forehead against hers, “We don’t have to rush, we can take things slow. Especially since we’re going to be together from here on out.”

“Together, I like that.”

“Me too.” Jango closes his eyes and tries to draw her in closer, “As soon as I’m done with my job here, we can get you settled on my ship and then we can go wherever we want.”

“What’s your job here?” His Sen’ika asks as she lightly traces his face with gentle fingers.

“I was hired by the Republic to help open a Dialogue between them and the Imperator.” Jango replies.

“It won’t work.” Her answer is immediate.

“Yeah, I don’t think it will either. But credits are credits.”

She shakes her head, “The Imperator has a thing about the Republic and their weak stance on slavery.”

“I don’t blame him.”

She’s quiet for a very long moment, and then she sighs, “Jango. As soon as his army is large enough he intends to go to war with the Republic. You shouldn’t get involved.”

Jango pulls back and stares at her, “I see.” He scans her face for a moment, and then sighs, “Well, I did get half of the money up front, and there’s no love lost between me and the Republic.”

“Jango?”

“Pack what you need, Sen’ika. We’re leaving before we get any more involved in this.”

Her smile is almost blinding, “Give me a few minutes.”

He watches her dart around the room, shoving clothes and other items into her bag, and then she’s back by his side, “Okay, I’m ready. I’ll leave the plants to the kids.”

“Do we need to tell the Imperator that you’re leaving?”

“He knew that I would be going with you the moment you arrived on planet, Jango.” She says breathlessly, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “No one is going to stop us.”

True to her words, not a single soul stopped them as they head through the palace and back to the taxi stand. And no one stopped them as they headed back to the spaceport. And no one stopped them when he started up his ship and flew through the pre-flight checks.

And no one stopped them as they left Tatooine’s atmosphere for greener pastures.

As they sit high in orbit over the desert planet, Jango watches his Sen’ika watch the stars around them, and a small smile crosses his lips. “So,” He starts, turning in his chair to allow her to sit on his lap, “Where do you want to go?”

“Um...someplace new.” Sen’ika replies as she lightly sits on his lap, her gaze locked on the open space outside his ship.

Jango chuckles, “Someplace new it is.” He lightly taps her chin, pulling her attention off of the openness of space and onto him. He flashes a small, mischievous, little smile and tugs her in to press his lips against hers in a quick, and very chaste kiss.

When he pulls away, she looks flustered and has her fingers pressed against her lips, “Was that okay?” He asks.

Shyly, she meets his gaze, and then she nods. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s perfect.”

“Good,” He wraps a secure arm around her waist, and then focuses his attention on his computer, “Someplace new….hm...I know. I have just the place.”

Six months later, The Imperator declares war on the Republic, aided by a growing number of formerly Republic Planets who were jaded by the inaction of the government they supported for so long.

But that’s a different story.

As for Jango Fett and his Sen’ika, they write themselves out of the story, content to wander the galaxy, so long as they can wander together.

[do-you-ship-it-polls]

About the blog:

This is created just for fun to poll people on their opinions on ships, because shipping culture is something that I find fun. Please stay civil and remember that the block button exists.

I run multiple other blogs, including @do-you-know-this-baby and @aretheyqueer

Submission rules:

You can submit any show/movie/book/game etc.

Pedophilia and incest is not allowed, this includes adult/minor (except smaller age differences) and loli/normal-sized. I am otherwise lenient with it. Sometimes I mess up, so just let me know and I may remove the post. I don’t consider myself a proshipper, and will sometimes deny ships for my own comfort. I am anti-harassment, though (should be common sense lol).

I'm not posting Harry Potter, Hazbin hotel or Helluva boss characters. Also no mcyt aside from roleplay/story-telling where they have different names/completely separated from the CC. Why these are banned is in the last tab of this spreadsheet.

This blog is lgbt+ friendly, of course. 

Feel free to send me an ask if you’d like to ask questions or have a suggestion, or something else to say.

Other similar blogs (none are affiliated with me):

@do-you-ship-this-comic-ship

@do-you-ship-this-book-couple

@worlds-worst-ships

@are-they-queerplatonic

@shouldtheydivorce

@new-proshipping-polls

@rpfshippingpolls

Submission rules:

Submissions can be sent through the form below!

No real people (see above for mcyt rules)

No adult x underage or loli x normal (see above for rules)

No harry potter & hazbin/helluva

One ship per form, but you can send in multiple forms at a time.

There are currently a lot of submissions so it'll take a while to get through all of them, but your submission could show up at any time since I don't really go in order as much as I should. I'm currently posting 4-5 times a day.

I also sometimes miss duplicate submissions so if your text isn't included, I apologize! Feel free to let me know and I'll add it.

Here is a spreadsheet with all published ships and their votes, if you prefer it over the blog search feature, or want to check something easily. It also includes denied ships. It hasn't been updated in a good while, though.

Fandom jail

Fandom jail is for fandoms who bother me too much but don't deserve to be banned forever. This means polls featuring these characters will be put on hold. The fandoms currently in jail are:

None!

Other events

Currently accepting submissions for:

Mini tournament polls

"Ship it or rip it?" polls (unknown start date)

Tags used:

#anime ; #cartoons ; #movies ; #tv shows ; #books etc

#not a poll ; #not a ship

#asks

#fanart friday (feel free to send me fanart you want to be featured)

#crackship poll and #april fools for joke polls

#tournament poll

[caroldantops]

indentation in the shape of you || valcarol

ship: valkyrie x carol danvers

summary/request: carol shows valkyrie her new suit. valkyrie doesn't like it.

word count: 1.2k

warnings: smut (18+ only), kinda pwp, the marvels spoilers, strap on use, jealous sex, daddy valkyrie, dom!val, sub!carol

a/n: if you're seeing this coming from a ship tag hello! i usually write reader insert so if you go to my blog looking for more of this ummm. sorry.

masterlist | ao3 link

“I’m glad that they seem to be adjusting well. Fury tells me that they’re working on restoring Tarnax’s atmosphere, so hopefully they won’t have to stay in New Asgard for too much longer,” Carol tightens her fists at her side, tension in her body clear as she stands in front of Valkyrie’s desk. 

“Oh, no worries. Having them is no bother at all. Though I’m sure they’re eager to get off Earth,” Valkyrie hums as she swirls her dagger.

Carol insisted on coming down after fixing Hala’s sun to check on things, something that didn’t surprise Valkyrie in the slightest. What did surprise her was her sudden costume change. Her suit was different. Less saturated, emblem bigger on her chest. Valkyrie didn’t like it. It didn’t feel like the Captain Marvel image that she’d grown used to. 

Plus, this one’s torn in places. Cheaply made. Not fitting for a hero who flies into suns. 

Carol is rambling on about something to do with one of the Skrull families as Valkyrie analyzes this new suit. It does hug her hips nicely. Form fitting around the waist that she’s grabbed and pulled against her many times before. 

“What’s with the new get-up?” 

“What?” Carol’s train of thought comes to a screeching halt. 

“This,” Valkyrie points her dagger at Carol. “Different suit.” 

Carol looks down at her suit. Valkyrie holds back a chuckle at how she almost looks surprised by what she’s wearing. “Oh! I got a new one.”

“Clearly,” Valkyrie laughs. “Come closer, I wanna see it.” 

Carol scrunches up her brows in confusion at Valkyrie’s sudden interest, but chalks it up to that warrior mentality. That woman loves some good battle armor. She walks around the desk to stand in front of Valkyrie, awkwardly holding still as she inspects the suit, running her hands over the material and poking a finger through one of the tears that ripped during the fight with Dar-Benn. 

“Seems cheap, doesn’t it?” Valkyrie sneers. “My armory could make you something ten times as sturdy. Where’d you get this shit suit from?” 

“It’s not shit,” Carol huffs. Valkyrie raises an eyebrow at her and pulls her finger down, making the rip bigger. “Hey!” 

“Why aren’t you answering me, hm?” Valkyrie knows damn well where this suit came from, she could tell from the moment she touched it. She just wants Carol to say it. 

“Aladna. Prince Yan--”

“Oh, a gift from your husband.” 

Before Carol knows it, she’s being tugged flush against Valkyrie. From her standing position, she towers over her even more than she usually does, but she gulps because she knows who’s in control here. 

Valkyrie knows that Prince Yan is no more than a friend to Carol, but both of them know just how much the idea of Carol being technically married makes Valkyrie’s jealousy blaze. 

Especially when she comes around with the gifts he’s given her. 

“Val--” 

“You know, I’m surprised it looks so dull, given that Aladna’s traditional clothing has more colors than a pride parade.” Valkyrie grips Carol’s waist, fingers digging into her sides. It would hurt if Carol didn’t have super endurance. But it’s enough to make the message clear. 

“It’s fine, I’ll probably go back to my old one anyway.” Carol refuses to make eye contact with her. She can’t let her know how much this is affecting her right now. 

But gods. 

It took Carol a long time to find someone who could make her feel this way. Someone who could make her feel safe rather than terrified of giving in to their control, their dominance. 

It just came so naturally to Valkyrie. Carol supposes that’s why she can’t stay away, comes running back when her thoughts get too much for her to bear and she just needs them shut off. 

Like now. 

“Don’t look away from me,” Valkyrie says firmly. Carol bites her lip and meets her gaze again. “Good girl. Bend over the desk.” 

Carol briefly considers asking why, but at the moment she can’t bring herself to fight Valkyrie’s little game. She moves some stuff out of the way and bends over the desk. She does her best to steady her breathing as she feels Valkyrie’s hands run up the back of her thighs. 

“You’d think that Prince Yan would give his princess a sturdier suit. You know, I bet I could just…” 

Riiiiiiiip.

 “Valkyrie!” 

Valkyrie laughs, giving Carol’s ass a slap as she admires what she’s done. Just as Valkyrie suspected, she was able to poke into one of the tears and fully rip a hole right through the crotch of Carol’s suit. Her cunt is exposed, the pale skin of her ass peeking through the top of the tears as well. Valkyrie steps forward, hips flush against Carol’s ass. 

“Feel that, princess?” Carol groans. “Use your words.” 

“Yes, sir.” Carol gasps as Valkyrie grinds the bulge of her strap into her exposed ass. She tries hiding her face to conceal how flustered she is, but Valkyrie won’t tolerate that. She’s tugged up by her hair, Valkyrie’s lips brushing against her cheek as she speaks lowly to her. 

“Does your husband ever do this for you?” Valkyrie doesn’t expect a response, just chuckling at Carol’s whines. “Does he know what a needy girl you are?” 

“No, sir.” Valkyrie unbuckles her belt, pulling out her strap and nudging the tip between Carol’s already damp folds. Carol shudders, pushing her hips back against the sensation. 

“Greedy, greedy thing. Already trying to fuck yourself on my cock.” Valkyrie stands up straighter, but doesn’t release her grip on Carol’s hair, knowing the stinging in her scalp makes Carol as compliant as can be. “You’re getting spoiled, princess. Gonna have to ask nicely for what you want.” 

“Please,” Carol asks softly, voice pitched high as Valkyrie rubs her clit with her strap. “Please, sir. Please fuck me.” 

“Hmm,” Valkyrie releases Carol’s hair and runs her hand down her back, feeling the strong muscles of her back quiver under her touch. “Dunno, that’s not very convincing if you ask me.” 

“Please, daddy, I need you to fuck me!” 

Valkyrie laughs and sinks her cock into Carol’s weeping pussy. Carol lets out a guttural moan, only overshadowed by the wet noises her cunt makes as Valkyrie pounds deep into her. She grips Carol’s hips, pulling her back against her to meet her rough thrusts. 

She loves having Carol like this. The all-powerful Captain Marvel, destroyer of armies and savior of the universe begging for her tight pussy to be ruined by her, shivering under her praise and degradation, weeping in her arms after she’s been thoroughly fucked. 

Carol must have been particularly pent up today, because it doesn’t take much longer for her to be on the edge, a few strokes of Valkyrie’s fingers over her clit and some whispered praises of “Good princess, let go for me. I’ve got you” send her into a shaking mess as she comes. 

She mumbles something incoherent as Valkyrie flips her over, pulling her up to curl against her chest. “What was that, baby? Can’t hear you when you’re mumbling.” 

“Thank you,” Carol sighs. 

Valkyrie smiles softly, kissing Carol on the tip of her nose and rubbing her back. “You that tired after one round?” 

“Not tired, just…tired.” 

“Ah, yeah. That really cleared things up.” 

“Shut up.” 

[ask-the-mental-critters]

PolarDay: HI THERE!!

MewMoon: Uh..PolarDay..who is this?

PolarDay: SHUT UP, MOONY!! JUST BE POLITE!!

MewMoon: I don't--

ChickVain: Ugh, BOTH OF YOU SHUT UP!! Don't you have anything better to do with your life?

Nervosa Boara: N-Now, now--

PolarDay: CHICKVAIN, THAT IS NO WAY TO TALK TO PEOPLE!! ESPECIALLY TO THE LEADER!!

ChickVain: UGH, I SWEAR TO-- YOU NEVER GET ON TO ANXI!? *points to Anxi AnxiePhant*

PolarDay: WELL THAT'S BECAUSE--

*Insert ChickVain and PolarDay arguing*

EroBear ClingBug: Uhm..CynesCorn?

CynesCorn: Y-Yeah..?

EroBear ClingBug: I think Anxi is having an anxiety attack again...poor guy..

CynesCorn: Well..I guess that's normal nowadays..

Anxi AnxiePhant: ...

Hyper Hare: Why are 'Vain and Polar arguing again-?

𝚆𝚎𝚕𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙼𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝙲𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝙰𝚜𝚔 𝙱𝚕𝚘𝚐!

Basically the Smiling Critters, but with muted color pallettes and mental illnesses/disorders! I changed their names, too, along with their pendants!

The is the official blog for a random Smiling Critters AU I thought of! What's their backstory? Why do they have these mental challenges? That's for you to find out!

Rules:

Please don't sexualize them or smth like that, yk what I mean

I do allow suggestive jokes or smth like that

No racists, homophobics, haters, etc

Ship art is allowed! (In fact I'm a multishipper, you might find me making ship art of them

Magic anons are also allowed, please just don't overdo it

You can harm them, just not severely (exp: you can't kill them, rip their arm off, stab their chest, etc)! I'd like it if it was just a silly slap or smth (for just silly content)

If you'd like to make an OC in my AU, tag me in it!! I wanna see!! :D

If you have anymore questions, ask!!

Warnings! This blog could contain:

Blood/gore (idk how to draw gore do most likely not gore 😔)

Angst/lore

Suggestive jokes and stuff

Swearing

Maybe stuff related to fear?

I am originally an sfw tickle blog, though I don't rly post sfw tickle stuff often

My OG blog:

PolarDay

Behold, the leader of this mentally unstable friendgroup! PolarDay is always there to help his friends in tough situations. In fact, he never takes a break in being the leader! He claims he has never cracked under the pressure.

Mental illness/disorder(s): bipolar, smiling depression (moderate)

Pronouns: he/they

Pendant: cloudy sun

Scent: fruity sherbert

MewMoon

MewMoon is your grumpy, sleepy kitty. Though he is normally calm and friendly, due to not getting enough sleep, he's especially grumpy.

Mental illness/disorder(s): every sleeping thing you can think of. (Exp: insomnia, restless leg syndrome, sleep paralysis, ETC)

Pronouns: he/him

Pendant: new moon

Scent: grape

ChickVain

The narcissist of the friend group. While always being cocky and overly confident, ChickVain does have a soft spot, yet he doesn't have it for anyone. It'd have to be a really special person for him to show his soft side.

Mental illness/disorder(s): narcissistic personality disorder, depression (mild), trust issues (not rly a mental illness/disorder but eh)

Pronouns: he/him

Pendant: shooting star

Scent: lemon

Anxi AnxiePhant

Always overthinking and overreacting, Anxi AnxiePhant is a troubled encounter. That's not his fault, though! He's just constantly in panic. In fact, his pupils are just scribbles from his constant distress. It'd be pretty rare to see him speak to anyone at all, so don't expect to hear anything from him. For some reason, he has thought his friends were replaced with imposters a few times before.

Mental illness/disorder(s): anxiety (severe), PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder), depression (severe), derealization/depersonalization

Pronouns: he/him

Pendant: candle (it's lit if his anxiety is spiked. The bigger the flame, the higher the anxiety levels)

Scent: blackberry

EroBear ClingBug

This bear may be sweet and cuddly, but she's very...clingy. Don't expect her to leave the others alone. She's the kind to make any excuse for hanging out. Her love language is physical affection, so watch out! Her hugs are tight!!

Mental illness/disorder(s): erotomania (thinking someone of a higher social class is in love w/ you), BPD (borderline personality disorder), obsessive love disorder

Pronouns: she/her

Pendant: cracked heart

Scent: cherry

Nervosa Boara

She has a habit of eating questionable things, especially when stressed. However, she's started to make these questionable things the only stuff she eats. Nervosa Boara, while caring and willing to be there for her friends, is a little distant, and tries hard to tolerate jerks.

Mental illness/disorder(s): pica, anorexia, bad self-esteem, depression (moderate)

Pronouns: she/they

Pendant: corn starch

Scent: dragon fruit

CynesCorn

CynesCorn, while being very quiet, isn't as quiet as Bubba. Though, she is shy and nervous, always making excuses to not visit social and huge events. She's always willing to draw something for her friends, though it's sometimes difficult for her.

Mental illness/disorder(s): social anxiety moderate), synesthesia (not a mental thingymabob but 🤷‍), depression (mild), PTSD (moderate), Walking Corpse Syndrome

Pronouns: she/he/they

Pendant: wilted flower

Scent: blueberry

Hyper Hare

While being an energetic rabbit, Hyper Hare may be a little too energetic. She doesn't really have any self control, talks and runs a lot, and never really pays attention. She also doesn't seem to get how some things she says are kinda rude. Exp: "Ugh! You are so boring! Can't you be a little more useful?"

Mental illness/disorder(s): high-functioning autism (not necessarily a disorder/illness), ADHD, depression (mild)

Pronouns: she/her

Pendant: thundercloud

Scent: lime

Have fun interacting with them!

(Ignore all the tags, this is how I manage to get noticed 😞)

[the-bad-batch-baroness]

Where's Mommy?

Wolffe x Lilith Sestri (OFC)

Part 10

Summary: Wolffe's wife suddenly dies, leaving him a single father in the middle of a war.

Pairing: Wolffe x Lilith Sestri (OFC)

Characters: Wolffe, Cara (child OFC), Comet, Sinker, Boost, Plo Koon

Tags & Warnings: heavy angst, mention of death, off-screen death, spousal death, grief, hurt/comfort, family fluff

Word Count: 1.3k

Author's Note: Things are still crazy right now, but I am managing. Thank you to everyone who has reached out. I appreciate it! This is another transitional chapter. Not much happens, other than the plot moving forward. You know, the meaning of "filler episode" really changes when you write 😅 The chapter isn't exciting or emotional, but it's still important to the overall plot and contains context for future chapters. As always, please enjoy 💚

Beta: @beating-a-dead-plot

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The ride over to the Jedi Temple was quiet once Cara settled on Wolffe's lap. Most children lulled to sleep by the hum of a moving ship or speeder, and Cara was no exception. Wolffe didn't mind, though. He preferred her to be asleep and peaceful than awake and chaotic. She'd been through enough already, and yet, the tragedy was nowhere near over. Not by a long shot. Deep down he knew the funeral was going to rip off every bandage he and the others had meticulously placed.

They could lie, dance around the truth, replace facts with illusion, and carefully craft misdirection, but at the end of the day, they couldn't hide it forever. The pain was painted across all of their faces. A grim truth they all knew but refused to acknowledge, even by Wolffe. No one wanted to speak it aloud for fear that maybe, just maybe, if they didn't say it, it wouldn't happen. But while trying to conceal it from Cara, they had disillusioned themselves with their own blank stares and frowns.

Wolffe gazed out the window and watched as other speeders flew by, lost in his thoughts about the future. Not many clones thought about the future, because it wasn't in their brain chemistry to look beyond anything other than their immediate present, but that changed for Wolffe after he met his wife. There was a moment where it felt like he unlocked a part of his brain. The part that wanted to survive and thrive, instead of fight and die. It was a fleeting feeling, but there nonetheless.

He was wondering, not only about the funeral, but about what came after the funeral. What would he do when he received a new assignment? He couldn't stay on Coruscant forever. No clone could. Wolffe scoffed at his own thoughts and corrected himself. Actually, the only clones who could stay on Coruscant forever were the Coruscant Guard. Wolffe thought they were lucky, even if they didn't think they were. Fox would kill to be back on the battlefield in any capacity, and Wolffe would trade his command with Fox’s in a heartbeat.

However, Fox had his own life to lead and his own things to worry about on Coruscant. That was just how life was for the clones. It was a luck of the draw in who got to be a commander and who got to be stationed where. To the Republic, all clones were the same, so to them, it wouldn't matter what clones went where, but to the clones, sometimes, it did matter. Clones who hadn't been around long enough didn't understand, and those who had, didn't live long enough after they found out.

Wolffe was pulled from his thoughts when the speeder braked as they arrived at the Jedi Temple. He peered out of the window at the towering structure and breathed deep as he felt his heart rate increase. He had never been enthralled with the Jedi like other clones; finding their religion strange and their battle tactics even stranger. Perhaps it was the deep-seeded Mandalorian genes coursing through his veins that made him wary of the so-called peacekeepers, even if Rex and Cody tried to convince him otherwise.

The only Jedi Wolffe remotely liked, or even cared about, was his own. General Plo Koon saved him, Boost's, and Sinker's lives, and for that he owed him his undying loyalty. The rest of them he disregarded. He served them as he should, like any good soldier who followed orders, but that didn't mean he had to like them or worship them. It was the Jedi that caused him to lose his first battalion, even though he alone received the demerits for it, much to his general's chagrin.

To stand at the precipice of the Jedi Temple, with the intent to leave his beloved daughter in the care of those Force-wielding wizards, that weren't his general, made his skin crawl. Even with his disdain for the Jedi, it was still better than the alternative of Cara entering the foster care system, or even worse, being left in the care of her grandparents. That thought alone made Wolffe sick. At least with this arrangement, he could come and go within the Jedi Temple without explanation.

"Do you want to put your armor on?" Comet asked from across Wolffe.

Wolffe moved his gaze from the window to look down at Cara, who was still asleep on his lap, and then up at Comet. "Whenever I put my armor on, she thinks I'm leaving."

"Understood," Comet nodded. "I'll have Aug– Warthog bring it to your new quarters."

Wolffe chuckled.

"I'll grab a box," Sinker said as he exited the speeder.

"I'll grab the other box," Boost said as he also exited the speeder.

Comet, Cara, and Wolffe were soon left alone in the speeder and Wolffe wasn't too keen on moving from his spot. The hesitation wasn't lost on Comet.

"You really don't want to do this, do you?" Comet asked.

"Would you?" Wolffe retorted, his disdain bleeding through. "Would you leave your kid with strangers? With Jedi?"

"It's not that bad," Comet said.

Wolffe huffed and looked back out of the window. "You'll never understand."

"Guess not," Comet sighed. "I'll probably die before I fall in love and have a kid like you did."

Wolffe snapped his eyes back to Comet and glared at him. "Don't get insubordinate with me, Corporal."

"Wouldn't dream of it, Commander," Comet said before leaving the speeder.

Wolffe tilted his head back against the top of the seat and groaned. He was such an idiot. Even after everything Comet did for him following his wife's death, everything he did for Cara, Wolffe still had the audacity to bite at him like he was some random shiny that stepped out of line. Pathetic. At least he continued to live up to his namesake, whether he was proud of it or not, because when a wolf is cornered, it will lash out. He needed to get his fears, anxieties, and his temper under control, and sooner rather than later.

"Daddy?" Cara said sleepily as she stirred on his lap.

Wolffe tilted his head back down and smiled. "Hi, baby."

Cara whined. "I wanna sleep."

Wolffe picked her up so she was sitting on his legs instead of laying on them, much to her protest. "Not yet. We need to get settled in our new room first, then you can have a nap."

Cara whined and wriggled uncomfortably against Wolffe as he moved along the seat towards the speeder door.

"I know," Wolffe soothed as he exited the speeder and sat her on his hip. "Daddy wants a nap too, but can you stay awake for me for a little longer?"

Cara groaned and moved restlessly in Wolffe's grasp.

"Close enough," Wolffe sighed.

Wolffe carried Cara towards the edge of the stairway leading up to the Jedi Temple, where his general and men were waiting for him. He gripped her tightly in his arms, afraid that at any moment someone was going to rip her out of his arms and he'd never see her again. It wasn't an entirely irrational fear. The Jedi took children away from their parents all of the time. What made his daughter so different from those children? What if he left her here and never got her back?

"Calm yourself, Commander," Plo said when he sensed Wolffe's trepidation through the Force. "There are no enemies within these walls, only the enemies we bring in from within ourselves."

Wolffe heeded his general's words of wisdom and steadied himself. He stared up at the daunting, durastone stairway, took a deep breath, then released it slowly. He was as ready as he would ever be, and he hadn't even gotten to the hard part yet. Nevertheless, he stepped forward, and his men stepped forward with him in solidarity. A silent march up the Jedi Temple steps towards a new normal. A terrifying new normal, for both him and Cara, but this was only the beginning of it.

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[oceansssblue]

OK SO. RAREPAIR. MY GOAT. Ventress x Hunter!! I love this ship so much he spread his legs to her

If possible, can you make it t4t? Trans woman Asajj and Trans man Hunter? 👉👈

Can be smut! They are so hot together hehe

Soooo... let the rare pairings begin ✨

Hope it was what u wanted!

"NOT WHAT I WAS EXPECTING"

– ASAJJ VENTRESS/HUNTER 🔥

WARNINGS: TRANS ASAJJ, TRANS HUNTER, EXPLICIT SEX (DIRTY TALK, BIG DICK)

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"This is not what I was expecting when you agreed to come with me" Ventress retorts, voice full of sarcasm, while Hunter tries to catch his breath in front of her.

The leader of Clone Force 99 had been worried sick about the ex-sith's revelation about Omega. She had offered to train her; just enough to grasp a sliver of control of the Force. Just enough to hide herself, to remain unnoticed. Not that the Empire would stop looking after her –not when they already knew the truth–; but at least, her life sign wouldn't be screaming "force sensitive" for those physically around the girl. Hunter had inmediately shot down the idea unless he was allowed to tag along; and Asajj had reluctantly accepted.

Why did she want to help the girl? Well, Ventress knew everything about people wanting to take advantange of a helpless child; about being an expensable pawn in another's game, about families ripped apart. Plus, the Empire would find her someday too, no matter how hard she had been working to blend with the shadows. And for the Empire to be destroyed, there had to be enough force-sensitives –ex-siths, ex-jedis, new force users, it didn't really matter– alive. Asajj doubted the Empire could be defeated without them.

That didn't mean Ventress was chirpy about it. Hapiness just didn't seem to be in her vocabulary; in her range of emotions. Amused, entertained, not sad neither angry? Yes. But never plainly happy. It was just her personality; shaped after a whole life of teachings on dark arts and sith stories.

Surprisignly, her two new companions hadn't been as irritating as she had expected them to be. The kid's bubbly excitement could be tiring after a whole day of social interactions; and Hunter's initial side glances of waryness had gotten on her nerves at first. But the girl had learned when to give her space –it wasn't a difficult task, considering Asajj's sharp tongue– and Hunter... Ah, Hunter had been a very curious development.

Ventress had grown to... Well, perhaps like was too strong of a word, but it admitedly went further than tolerate. The clone was loyal and brave –but not the silly kind of bravery–; measured, always aware of his surroundings, perceptive and plainly hot. That definitely helped. There was a sort of primal, raw and masculine attraction going on for Hunter; and yet he was still surprisignly pretty. Perhaps it was the long hair or the sweet brown eyes; perhaps that narrow waist Asajj had eyed more than once.

No matter how curiously attracted she felt for him, though, Ventress never thought it would end like this; that he would be the one to grow a pair and kiss her. And oh, what a heated kiss it had been. Hunter was still panting in front of her, eyes flickering over her face while he tried to catch up his breath. Ventress had heard him moan low in his throat; felt the shiver spreading through his body when she had all but cuped his ass and grounded against him, letting him feel her bulge. The wide-eyed, confused but excited look on the clone's face had been nothing short of precious.

Ventress walked backwards –eyes never leaving Hunter's– and layed down on the matress of her ship; posture relaxed and tempting. Hunter seemed to be devouring her from his spot against the wall.

"I'm not complaining, though" she finally continued, making a tiny gesture with her head while she added in a sultry voice "Come here and take a sit on my lap, little clone".

Hunter's cheeks flushed a deep red. He hadn't seen this happening either. But he couldn't deny the way his heartbeat sped up when Ventress stepped close to him; or when she hissed a few words as an answer. Because that's how the woman spoke; in sharp hisses and confident whispers. Everything in Asajj screamed power; and that made Hunter's knees weak.

Hunter has always been a confident person himself; used to leading his squad and carrying the weight of decisions and responsabilities. He doesn't really understand then, why he gets so damn shy around Ventress; why his feet shuffle as if he's unsure to move forward. He wants to. He wants her. Why then does he feel so... afraid?

The woman observes him from the bed. It makes Hunter more nervous, but the arch of her eyebrow finally pushes him into action, and Hunter quickly jumps into the matress, one knee going over Ventress's hips and settling almost stubbornly on top of her. He's a sargeant. He has led his team into battle more times than he can count and survived to tell the story. It's just sex with... Ventress.

Ventress, who has a very well-endowed cock by the feeling of it and chuckles at Hunter's obvious reaction; a small whimper escaping his lips while he nervously adjusts on top of her.

The woman's long nails take hold of Hunter's own hips; keeping him in place.

Once again, she smirks.

"Like what you feel?" She asks, though it's nothing more than an observation at this point, really.

Hunter blushes and glances off to the side. Ventress chuckles and grabs his chin; forcing him to look at her.

"For a sargeant, you're surprisingly shy in bed" she points out, smile wide as a lothcat's. "Don't worry, little clone, we can just stick to kissing for a bit".

There's a sort of sarcasm to her voice; but Hunter seizes the oportunity to do something he wants and escape the weight of her stare and dips down to press his lips on hers. Asajj makes a tiny surprised sound, body tensing and coiling like a snake; then chuckles low in her throat and tugs him forward, deepening the kiss. She's rough, teeth nipping his lower lip, all-consuming; and Hunter quickly gets lost in it. His body heatens up; warmth climbing onto his cheeks. He's getting wet, now; and he can feel Ventress's bulge growing hard underneath him, and the knowledge drives him crazy.

He humps forward, unconsciously trying to grind on it; and Ventress groans, lips parting, head falling back to rest against the thin pillow. She studies him with hooded eyes. The clone looks delicious; long hair encasing his flushed face, eyes closed, lips parted while he moves against her. Ventress tugs that gorgeous hair of his back with a pull of her hand; Hunter's spine curving in response. A small moan echoes in the walls of her ship.

"Getting a little desperate, aren't why?" She asks, amused but oh, so turned on, dark eyes heavy fixed on his. "You want that inside of you, mm?"

Hunter's whole body trembles at the dirty words coming of her mouth. A rush of slick slips into his underware. His core pulses almost with it's own heartbeat.

Fuck, yes. He wants that. He needs that. He's so empty, he needs her cock to stretch him, needs to be filled and pounded and...

Hunter whines, and Asajj gives him a wide, dangerous smile.

"Not that I'm trying, little clone, but your thoughts are awfully loud in the force".

Hunter blushes; though it doesn't make much difference in his already redenned cheeks. He looks at her as if he were a lost puppy; needing guidance. Ventress smirks.

"Why don't you take it out, then, if you want it so badly?" She suggests, playing with him, but dead-serious at the same time.

Hunter knows she won't let it slip; and it's less humiliating to admit to his desires directly –instead of trying to resist–. So he swallows his embarassment and shyness down, and his hands nervously tug her leggins and underware down; exposing her erection to him for the first time. It tears out a very audible moan from his throat.

"It's so big" he thinks to himself, but speaks out loud.

It's the biggest dick he's ever seen. Warm and heavy, it rests against the woman's pelvis; almost reaching her belly button. There's a few drops of precum that tempts Hunter to take a taste.

Asajj's laugh break him out of his reverie.

"Take a photo, little clone. It'll last longer".

Hunter tries to be nochalant about it.

"I was just curious. You know, with you being a woman and..." he looks down at her cock again, and Ventress gives him a confident, one sided smile.

"Ah. Well, it can't be that much of a surprise... Considering how you're keeping a very similar secret. Aren't you, little clone?"

Hunter squirms. He glances off to the side, but Ventress "tsks" and he redirects his eyes back to her. He doesn't like talking about this. Hell, he doesn't have a lot of sexual experience because he hadn't wanted to face other's reactions; hadn't known how to explain it. What to do or say. But Jedi magic, right? Or well... Well, perhaps his grinding had made his lack of package obvious. Either way, it's not easy admiting it out loud.

"Why don't you show me?" she continues, encourging him upon his silence.

Hunter hesitates for a few seconds; then he shifts his ways on his knees and slowly divests himself. His shirt is thrown to the floor first; his slightly more rounded chest coming into view. They're not really breasts, at least not a full pair; but they're not completely flat and muscular either. There's some softness in them; and his nipples had always been particularly sensitive.

Surprisingly, Ventress waits patiently as he moves on onto the lower part of his outfit. Hunter is finally completely naked in front of her; and the woman eats him up with her eyes while Hunter squirms in place. Insecurity swims inside of him, and some part of him wants nothing more than to dress up again, but... But Ventress smirks in satisfaction and carefully and very slowly swipes two fingers through his wet folds. Hunter clenches around nothing and moans.

"Look at that" she smiles, desire clear in her eyes. "Who would have thought a clone commander would look so pretty with perky nipples and a pussy crying to be filled. Because that's what you truly want, isn't it?"

"Y-yes" Hunter manages to answer, swallowing his embarassment down.

"Well, well, little clone. We must prepare you for that" Ventress taunts, her hand reaching down to gently stroke her cock twice. "I'm not sure I can make all this fit inside of you. I bet you're tight".

Hunter's mind is swimming in desire. He nods, fingers flying down to his clit inmediately. He does a circular motion one, twice; he's so wet and turned on it feels spectacular already.

"Ah, ah. You're going to cum in my cock and only by what my cock gives you" she stops him, making him whimper and look at her in desperation. "If you're so eager, you can start preparing yourself for my cock".

Hunter throws all caution through the window and dips his middle finger inside of him; the movement eased by his wetness. It's one single finger; and yet he feels so full already. Ventress is right; he is tight. It doesn't help his pussy is clenching onto anything that is given to him.

"Just like that, little clone. Go on. You're a big boy, you can take another one".

Hunter whimpers and obbeys; and soon he's pushing two fingers, then three, in and out of him. They become from being too much to being too little; and he whines gripping the woman's hip with his free hand, asking for more.

Ventress, who has been slowly stroking herself while watching his little show, smirks knowingly.

"Yes, Hunter?"

He bites his lip and squirms. He knows she wants him to ask.

"P-please..." he whispers, the urgency clear in his voice.

Ventress smiles wider.

"Please what? I'm not giving you anything until you beg for it".

Hunter moans and tries to hide behind the courtin of his hair momentarily. The woman grabs his chin and forces him to face her. Her eyes demand an answer. Hunter needs to beg.

"Please, Asajj" he surprises himself with how soft his pleading voice sounds. "I want your big cock inside of me".

Ventress groans, kissing him as a reward and swiftly adjusting their positions; tugging him towards her so that his entrance is hovering over her erection. Ventress holds both of his hips with her hands; gesturing down with her head, eyes locked on his.

"Take what you want, little clone. Sit on it". She orders, the last few words coming out in almost a hiss.

It sends electrifying pleasure up his spine; a tremble that is only replicated when he holds her cock in place with one hand and begins to slowly sit on it.

"A-ah" he whines, the stretch of her massive cock too much for his tight entrance to easily adjust. "V-ventress..."

She hums in delight and holds his hips steady; leading him to backtrack a little before taking more of her length inside of him.

"You should see yourself, Hunter" her voice is temptation on itself. "Looking so pretty trying to take my hard cock in your tiny pussy".

Hunter whimpers and stubbornly pushes down the rest of the way; the stretch so abrupt it burns. He makes a second wounded noise in his throat when he involuntarily clenches on her; and Ventress releases her first pure unadulterated, uncontrolled moan of the night. This is affecting her as well; as much as she's good at hiding it.

"S-so big" he repeats, almost as if he needs her to soothe him, to confirm it.

Asajj nods, answer a little raspy.

"Yeah. I can almost see the outline poking in your belly".

Hunter clenches on her again and looks at her desperately; breath already coming out in agitated pantings.

She reads the overwhelming desire in him.

"Move, little clone. I want to see you bouncing up and down on my cock".

Hunter loses himself on Asajj's hard-on. Though at first it's difficult to mantain a rhythim, the feeling too much, his endless desire and wetness soon makes it easier; and encouraged by her dirty words and strong hands, he moves faster and harder, slamming his own hips down on hers until he can almost feel her pushing against his cervix. Is an alarming situation and a incredibly pleassurable once at the same time.

Ventress let's him enjoy himself for some minutes; delighted to watch his pleasure and listen to his curses and moans, eyes tracking the way his body bounces and how his spine arches, how flushed his face looks. The need to fuck him harder, faster, arrives not too long after, though; and she inverts their positions so fast that Hunter is left to stare at her in shock, weeping cock still inside of him.

"You've had your fun, little clone. Now I get to take what I want, and you're just gonna hold on and cope with it".

It's a warning; a promiss. And Hunter soon discovers Ventress has no intention on breaking it.

She tilts his hips upwards; bends his legs open, and pounds in him so hard and deep a broken moan cries into the silence of the night. She doesn't give him respite, though; she's persistent, set on a goal, hips moving confidently over his and feeding her cock into his pussy one time after the other one. He's so wet the sound is almost embarassing; and yet it still turns him on. Ventress's cock feels imposibly good inside of him; so big, stretching him so wide, reaching so deep, branding him inside, carving her shape out of his pussy, one time after the other one and the other one and the other one...

"Please... please..." hunter cries, real tears in his eyes.

It feels so good it's overwhelming. He needs to cum. He needs to explode and release and please, god, this is so fucking good his brain is going to...

"There, there, little clone. Just take. What I. Give you" she hisses back, punching each word with a snap of her hips.

Hunter feels the orgasm impossibly close. He feels tingly already. He can almost graze it with his fingertips. It feels so good, he's so full, she's so big and...

"I-I'm gonna' cum!" He warns her, eyes shutting down inmediately, mouth dropping in an opent pant.

Ventress groans and pounds harder. She places a firm –and carefull– hand on Hunter's throat.

The man whines. The stars explode.

"I-I'm cum-ing!" He cries out, every single muscle on his body clenching harshly, squeezing the woman's cock.

Tingling spreads from his pussy to every single nerve ending on his body; shivering uncontrollably.

Ventress opens up on the Force; swallowing his pleasure down, making it part of her own.

"F-fuck!" She groans, almost tasting her own orgasm too. "D-drop to your knees, Hunter. Now".

It's not a question. It's an order. It's urgent. Necessary.

A dazzed Hunter rolls over and kneels on the floor; sleepy, satisfied eyes looking up at the woman's figure in ecstasy. Ventress takes a stand right in front of him. She grabs his hair with one hand, tilting his face upwards; desperately strokes her cock with the other one.

"Want to fucking paint your face" she growls, managing to send a last shiver of pleasure through Hunter's nerves. "Want to see your pretty face drenched in my warm cum, little clone..."

Hunter hums and obediently sticks his tongue out; and the sight of it, of the clone voluntarily offering his mouth to her, is what does it. Ventress moans and cums; white ropes of her warm seed painting Hunter's flushed face and dripping down. Ventress caresses the tip against his cheek; then against his lips. Hunter hums and gives her a kittle lick in complete contempt and relaxation. It's Ventress's time to shiver.

"Good boy" she murmurs, energy dropping, falling down to sit on the edge of the bed.

Hunter hums and follows; drops forward, head coming to rest to one of her thighs. He's growing sleepy as well; and Ventress chuckles in what can only be... Well, not happiness, but fond amusement, maybe.

THE END.

[ipostmysimpingstuffanonymously]

Another post? damn

I was on vacation a few weeks back and had no internet so I downloaded all Fanfciton that were Satoru/Shoko tagged and rated them.

Here are the ones I rated 5/5 ... so i guess this is a ff recommendation post lol

The delicate art of flirting

3rdgymbros

Words: 1,960, Satosho, 5/5

This is so good. I love that the first years get brought into the infirmary and they just KNOW ahahahahah. Also it’s just this casual side thing but there something so much deeper that i hurts which i like about this ship

Like a lost shirt

Lua

Words:1,520, Satosho, 5/5

I am a sucker for raw and "practical" relationships. Like this is exactly how I imagine them to grieve for Suguru and I love that so much can be left unsaid but the reader and Satoru and Shoko both just know. What they have isn't healthy but it's the only thing they can have. A happy and healthy relationship with someone else would just simply not work. They are both too fucked up for that.

Sorry about the blood in your mouth (i wish it was mine)

Her_black_tights

Words: 17,761 Sashisu/ Satosho 5/5

So I am biased on this one cuz this is one of my headcanons. That Suguru fucked around with both and that his absence is why Gojo and Shoko are a thing. And I feel like this fic perfectly encapsulates the hurt, the brokenness and the necessity of their relationship. Like this is how they cope and its messy and unhealthy and i love it

Listen I love you joy is coming

Antioedipus

Words:3,938 Satosho 5/5

This one is cute. Nah cute is the wrong word, they are goblins but it’s nice. They are both fucked up which is funny. Also 100% can see that Shoko doesn't have the emotional capacity to console a crying woman but still would do the right thing even if she doesn't think it’s the right thing. 

Work and not run (skip and not fall)

Aminstrel

Words:2,300 Satosho 5/5

Love this! Cute! Exactly how i Imagine them. Also match cut? Peak comedy hahahaha goblin energy.

Catalyst

tiressian

Words:4,170 Satosho 5/5

AYOOOOO first tiressian ff. i remember reading this and having gotten new horizons opened xD Anyway: love it, super nice character interaction. Love it when Gojo is stumbling over his words, a tiressian special! Also love the aftermath, hilarious but sweet.

To my significant (b)other

Tiressian

Words: 6,621 Satosho 5/5

Another banger! Back to back? Spoiled honestly. I love this one just because it makes so much sense that she writes a list. Also Gojo high as balls is hilarious. Then the whole dialogue at the wedding with the chaste touches omg my skin is prickling. Love it.

Warmth

Satoluvs

Words:2,663 Satosho 5/5

I LOVE THIS. Omg adopted Yuji has my heart. Also consoling somebody by not talking it out but taking them in giving them affection to cure the sadness omg. Also also Satoru and Shoko just dating super casually i looooovee it.

Breathing underwater 

Shrimphony

Words:1,848 Sashisu/ Satosho 5/5

This one hurts so much omg. And this could easily be canon. Idk why Gege does not show us Shoko’s grief more…. Like even if it's platonic how can she not find solace in Gojo still being there hmm? And then when Gojo, Nanami and Yaga get ripped from her, that must have destroyed her…

Shore 

Tiressian

Words:7,161 Satosho 5/5

VERY TASTY thank you for the meal. I love their dynamic. Back with the tiressian special. Also Shoko making him do push ups, same girl same i get it. Love the banter, it makes so much sense.

Epoch

Tiressian

Words:6,341 Satosho 5/5

Yum, yes, very nice. Love cheerleader Gojo, he has my heart, that poor dude. No other comments it's perfect

Call it a hunch

Tiressian

Words: 5,560 Satosho 5/5

I think this is one of my favourites hahhaha. I love how panda is trying to convince everybody hahahahah. Also the snowball fight is glorious xD the little yuta/maki you slipped  in there, i see you hehehehe. And the end has me ROLLING HAHAHAHAH

It's the thought that counts 

Tiressian

Words: 2,182 Satosho 5/5

THE CUTEST ahhhh i love them i really really need to draw the three of them uff.

there's lots of 4/5 ones too that I'd recommend but i need to cap the list somewhere xD (the google doc has 12 pages wtf ahahahah) This is up for changes anyway :P but enjoy my recommendations xD

[themoodyestj]

jfc let it go they were on a date, there’s multiple sources saying they spotted them together 😂

"Let it go", says the anon polluting my inbox when I didn't even care to address the subject. How ironic. The laughing emoji at the end clearly depicts the immature behavior, feeling like the cat who ate the cream, when it should be the person taking the medicine. Trust me, this made me laugh a lot harder than you did. Quit trying so hard. How telling. *sighs contently* Anyhoo. Anon, let me give it to you straight. The fact is, I saw no picture, I just have hear say. Now, that isn't to say that I wouldn't find it plausible that they were seen together. They are indeed married, they have children together. They could be together for a number of reasons, which I really don't care to contemplate. Date could be a possibility. But we can't really tell, can we? Besides, don't be surprised that I'm a bit jaded about all this. I mean, no pictures, the girl was too shy to take a photo, but had no problem tagging them? Kind of a selective shyness, no? Also, AAs are known for fabricating stories to have masturbatory content. You are experts in twisting words and seeing things that are not there, convincing yourself that the proverbial egg can grow hair. So don't blame me if I don't take AA information as fact. Jensen could rip a smelly one at a con, and you would code into a love letter to his wife. Also, doesn't this spread content seem to fall at a very specific timeline for you? I mean, the post on the January 2nd. It became hot topic at pretty much the exact date a certain co-star revealed plans for a new show. Really weird, right? Furthermore, I guess you are misunderstanding me here and the content of my blog. The reason I criticize Danneel is not the same reason you love her. My criticism is not due to the fact that she's married to Jensen. My criticism falls on the individual actions of said person, and it so happens to correlate from time to time to another. Even if they were divorced, as long as she would spew nonsense and someone else would consider it empowerment, I would still be critical. But at that point it wouldn't matter to you much, now, would it? She's your self insert. Without her proximity to a certain person, she would no longer have value to you. God, it sucks to be her, to be honest. On a last note... I have to say your insistence is perturbing. I mean, I understand shipping a couple, but going to the lengths of trying to provoke (emphasis on trying) an anti blogger to prove a point... That sure beckons the question.... Do you invest this much time in your own personal life? Do you have a significant other? Do you feel loved, understood, cherished, complete? Or are you living vicariously through strangers? I wonder.

I think we raised many important questions today. Think about it.

[imperator-titus]

Ghost from the Past [Part 6]

In which I've finally concluded that yes I deserve a poly ship. When I get this to Ao3 eventually, I will try to make the Astarion/Gale aspect a little more prominent early on. I think it's time to add the Bloodweave tag? They be flirtin' this episode.

Also yes Eletha is kind of a messy bitch.

CW: Sexually explicit material, non-Canon compliant Poly!Gale

(Prev)[Part 5] (Next)[Part 7] [Master Post]

[Yes I'm using this slutty gif. Finally, planned smut. gif by cheekylittlepupp]

They were going to finally deal with the goblins and rescue the druid Halsin when the sky opened up with a vicious storm. Everyone preferred the comfort of their tents, except for Eletha. In just her small clothes, she wandered around the drowning camp with nary a bother. She took this time to bathe herself and Bonnet.

When she walked past Astarion’s tent, he stuck his head out of the flap and growled at her, “What is wrong with you? Get in here this instant!”

Eletha stood under the awning of his tent, rain dripping off her skin and what little hair she had. “What’s your problem? I’m not bothering you.”

“Just get in here,” he grumbled before disappearing into his tent once more. Rolling her eyes, she followed.

Muttering and grumbling some more in annoyance, Astarion convinced her to take off her wet clothes. He practically ripped them off of her when she didn’t move fast enough. Eletha complained, but complied with his wishes, like sitting still while he toweled her off. It occurred to them both that this was the first time in a very long time that he’d seen her completely naked. Well, except for the new moon, but that didn’t count. 

“I can dry myself, you know.”

“I doubt you can tell that you’re wet, so I don’t believe you.”

Astarion hesitated as he finished her hair and moved on to her back. He ran a finger along a rather prominent scar that went from shoulder to opposite hip. Putting on a smirk and a flirtatious tone, he said, “Aren’t you a proper adventurer? And I thought those scars on your face were just for show.”

Eletha hummed, distracted. Astarion wilted a little, disappointed that he failed to open a conversation with her.

On her neck, he found two faded marks. Clearly a vampire’s bite, but unlike his, they were neat, dainty, and close together. Whoever sank their fangs into Eletha’s neck had done so gently, perhaps intimately.

Astarion pressed his nose into the back of her neck, behind her ear where she kept her hair short. She made a small noise, a little startled, a bit excited. Taking in a deep breath, he groaned and sighed. The scent was somehow familiar and new, sparking something in the dark recesses of his memory. In a low voice he murmured, “You smell amazing.”

“That’s what happens when you bathe,” Eletha rebutted with a laugh, but he could tell her heart sped up and that the sound of his voice by her ear sent a thrill up her spine. “You know… it’s unlikely you’ll find much to feed on tonight, and tomorrow is a big day. You could have some of my blood. If you want.”

“You’re such a good friend, my dear.” 

Astarion smiled to himself against her hair. Her smell was intoxicating. After pressing a kiss to her neck, making her breath hitch, he very carefully sank his teeth into her flesh. As he drank, savoring the taste, he pressed her back to his chest and let his hands wander over her skin. When one brushed against her breast, she managed to smack it away. The other trailed down her abdomen, and he barely passed her belly button before she snatched that one away.

“Naughty boy,” Eletha chastised, humor mixing with the edge in her voice. Astarion took his fangs out of her neck and chuckled.

“Please forgive me. I couldn’t resist,” he purred as she turned around to face him, an invitation in his eyes. “Aren’t high elves supposed to be too imperious for things like dancing in the rain like some common druid?”

“Oh, you want me to be mean, is that it?” she asked, stopping the bleeding on her neck, eyebrows raised.

“I said imperious. Noble. You’re more cold than commanding,” Astarion teased, haughty and confident.

Eletha hardened her eyes. With just a thought, they became sharp and clear, like a predator’s. Her voice was clipped and serious, as if she was another person. “Is this what you want?”

Astarion leaned forward just a little bit, eyes alight with delight. “Oh, yeeees. I think I like this side of you.”

In a flash, Eletha’s hand was on his jaw, controlling his head, digging in just enough to make him uncomfortable. A small gasp of surprise and arousal escaped his lips. For a moment, she looked down on him as if he was some trifling irritant, unworthy of her attention but demanding it.

Then her eyes softened and a smile bloomed on her lips. Wiping away her blood from his chin, she laughed. It was a little shocking how easily she changed. “I think the rain has stopped.”

Astarion watched as she gathered up her wet clothes, not even bothering to put them back on. “You’re going to leave, just like that? I’m hurt.”

“Oh, Astarion, you started the game, I merely finished it.”

“I wouldn’t call the game finished yet,” Astarion insisted, regaining his composure, putting on his ‘I’m starving and you look like a perfect meal’ eyes.

“You should play this game with Gale, I bet it’d be fun,” she told him with a little girlish giggle, like they were two friends discussing their crushes. If either of them had any hair, they’d probably be braiding it. 

Astarion scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Please, Gale is colder than you. I have to admit, he is quite handsome…”

“And powerful. Well, he was. And have you been to a wizard’s tower? It’s full of secrets and valuables and dangerous artifacts.” A wicked little grin started to show on his face and she tittered again. “Besides, Gale likes you.”

“Gale likes you, my dear.”

“Oh, yes, that’s why he found a bunch of books on vampirism and ancient artifacts that protect one from the sun. Because he likes me.”

“You’re having a laugh.”

“And the way you two chirp at each other like birds in spring? I have to keep you apart or I’ll get a headache. And he was very upset when you got excited about being beheaded. Personally, I’d like someone’s hands around my neck. But you have to do it in such a way that they don’t fight for air. You just stop the blood from going to their head and they just…” Eletha made a little gesture with her free hand and softly went ‘poof.’

“You’ve been drinking too much,” Astarion insisted, shaking his head.

“Okay, keep pining for my old used-up body that you’ve had before and deny yourself the powerful wizard that has done some inventive things with a goddess.” Astarion opened his mouth to argue with her, but she flitted out the tent as if propelled by faerie wings.

----

When Eletha stalked her prey, moving silently through the trees and grass, it was with reverence.

In the heat of battle, she kept her head, allowing Karlach or Lae’zel to swim in blood and gore while she managed the field.

In the goblin camp, she walked tall and her presence commanded the vile creatures to back away. Astarion saw it return, that regal severity in her eyes and words. The soul passed down to her through the ages had to be thirsting for this moment, to have lesser beings groveling at its feet and brought to heel with word or blade.

Half the night he worried that this day would end in chaotic bloodshed, a lot of it their own. He could hear Shadowheart and Lae’zel offer prayers to their respective goddesses. Karlach danced around in front of her tent out of nervousness, not gaiety, oblivious to his staring. Wyll tended to his blade and armor with fanatic fervor and offered Astarion a serious nod of camradic understanding. Gale practiced his spells for perhaps the ten-thousandth time in his life and when he met Astarion’s eyes, he smiled cockily.

Eletha had sat by the fire, staring into its flames, her bare knees crushed into the stones that surrounded it. For a while now, he considered her naive. Despite her age and experience, she still insisted on helping others with little reward. But unlike Wyll, she sometimes knew that people couldn’t be helped and served her own interests instead.

Then they were in that kennel. A proper kennel, not the one Cazador kept him in. Those little goblin children threw stones at that bear and it roared in pain and rage. Eletha’s ears twitched and somehow, he could hear her breath shudder for just a moment. The goblins giggled and clapped with glee and before anyone could say anything, Eletha’s elven longsword was wet with blood and little goblin heads rolled on the floor.

After that, Astarion didn’t think her so naive. Judging by the looks on the others’ faces when this small scrap was done, they all were recalculating their opinion of their leader.

As Eletha cleaned her blade, the cave bear reshaped into a man, the largest wood elf any of them had ever seen. He even rivaled Karlach in height and thickness. His body was soft, but not patriar soft. No, those hands could crush stones and lift ancient trees and his core was thick and sturdy, like a great oak resisting a storm.

“I would ask for your forgiveness for my appearance, but…” Halsin looked down at the headless bodies of the goblins. Everyone else was pointedly not looking at them.

“I’m all for believing any creature can overcome its nature, but I can’t abide animal cruelty,” Eletha explained, voice becoming a little humored as she spoke. Her severity melted away and she grinned at him, a hand on her chin as she appraised his appearance. “Bonnet is going to adore you. I’m almost disappointed that I don’t bring her to these sorts of things.”

“Haa, I’m sure I will enjoy making her acquaintance-”

“Bonnet is a bear, by the way,” Gale said helpfully. Shadowheart snorted, strangling a sudden laugh.

“Ah, that explains your rush to my rescue.” His attitude changed once he noticed that they were all infected with mindflayer tadpoles. After some discussion, they came to an understanding, but first thing was first.

The hunt was on.

After dispatching the goblins guarding the entrance to the kennel, Eletha stopped Astarion with a gentle touch on his arm. That harsh look was back, but there was a mischievous air to it. She pointed a finger up and he scanned the temple rafters for what she was indicating.

“What do you say? Shall we rain terror down on the Absolute’s idiots?”

Astarion gasped softly and touched a hand to his chest above his dead heart. “I think I’m falling for you all over again.”

----

This time, when Eletha aimed to put a dent in their alcohol stores, it was out of revelry and not a need to push back a deep dark sadness that threatened to crush her into dust. Gone was the icy chill, or the dour frown, or the knives in her eyes. 

She disturbed Gale’s peace with an offering of wine and a broad smile.

“What’s on your mind, Bhin?” she asked as she poured him a drink.

“It’s just… a beautiful night, don’t you think?” Eletha let him paint a picture for her of a normal night for him, fraught with wist.

“What’s Tara like?” she asked after he cleared up their misunderstanding.

“Astarion reminds me of her somewhat. The same sharp tongue. And sharp teeth,” Gale explained.

“Then I guess we’d get along.”

“As long as you don’t try to rub her belly. She hates that.” 

“But what if I want to rub your belly?” Eletha asked with a smile before putting the mouth of her bottle to her lips.

“I’m afraid I’ve experienced pleasures far more thrilling than tummy tickling,” Gale argued quite seriously before going on a small tangent about his celestial love life. Then it dawned on him. “Wait. You were flirting with me. For once, I think it is I who has had too much wine…”

“You know, Astarion doesn’t really like his belly rubbed either, but he does like having his ears gently touched and a nice stroke down the spine,” Eletha explained, demonstrating how one could pet either a cat or a certain elf.

“Are you trying to foist me onto another?” She smiled as she filled her pipe with something more fragrant than her usual tobacco. Gale didn’t think that what he said was humorous in any way, but Eletha often seemed amused by some private joke.

“Young ones should stick together. And a vampire seems like a half-step down to a normal person after a goddess, yes?” she asked after drawing in a bit of smoke. 

“Your logic is… interesting, to say the least.”

“Yeah, well, if you don’t blow up, you’ll live a long time, right? And I’m not exactly confident in my longevity, elf blood or no,” Eletha said before drinking some more.

“I believe I understand what you are trying to say.” Gale sipped his wine and Eletha refilled his glass. “I want to say this is disappointing… but I find it so… heartwarming, that you have so much concern for Astarion.”

“Don’t let him know,” she false-whispered, holding up her hand to hide her mouth and giving him a wink. More seriously, Eletha asked, “Can I paint you my own picture?”

“I wasn’t aware you had artistic pur- Oh. Yes, a story.” Gale chuckled under his breath. She wrapped her smile around her pipe, sparing him a witty remark that sparkled in her eyes. “Please. Speak to your heart’s content.”

“Despite being, well, him, Astarion was my only friend. In all honesty, he was the only one I could relate to or who could make me feel safe, even when he was getting us in trouble,” she told him fondly, building up her own wist. Then her smile fell and she took a drink. “Then one day, he was gone. And I thought I would never have a friend again. Never thought I could love someone or be loved.”

“Admirable that you haven’t chased him with a sharpened stick by now,” Gale said while she uncorked another bottle of wine for him.

“Anyway. I wandered for quite a while, alone. Sometimes I picked up an animal companion, but there was a lot of time where it was just me and the stars. Solitude felt good. I would meet people, but I might as well have been a construct, for all the care I afforded them. There was this village, it’s not there anymore. They grew the best apples. For decades I traded with this one fellow whenever I came through. We would share news, like what creatures had been seen lately, how the weather was shifting unexpectedly. He would offer me this delicious apple brandy, ‘recipe passed down for ten generations!’ he would boast. He let me set up my tent behind his house and his wife would insist on feeding me. When his children were little, they would play with whatever companion I had at the time. Then his grandchildren would play with them.

“Eventually, as most Aethen do, he died. The next time I came through, his son gave me one last bottle of the family brandy and thanked me for being his father’s friend. I didn’t even know we were friends.” Eletha toyed with her bottle and took a puff of her pipe, clearly trying to calm herself. “It was weird, how much it hurt. I hadn’t lost anything more important than a comfortable pair of boots since Astarion left.”

“A good pair of boots is hard to come by,” Gale said enthusiastically, happy to relate. He realized it probably wasn’t appropriate, given how Eletha seemed to be hovering on the edge of tears. Then she laughed and raised her bottle to his glass in cheers.

“The point being. After that, I was able to admit that sometimes, I was lonely. Little by little, I stopped being so cold. Actually learned people’s names. It still took me a while to realize when I was friends with someone.” Eletha looked over to Astarion, who was conversing, or rather flirting, with Halsin. A fond but sad smile graced her lips. “I look at him and I remember what it was like, being alone, afraid of the pain that comes with letting something in just to have it taken from you through no fault of your own. A human’s life is like the blink of an eye compared to mine, so what is an elf’s to an immortal? A single beat of a hummingbird’s heart?”

Gale was formulating a clever but sincere response when Eletha looked him in the eye so intensely that it made him stop.

“It must have been hard for you too,” she said bittersweetly. He looked down at his reflection in his wine. It was. It was hard for him. Then Eletha giggled. “There. Have I thrown you off my scent?”

Gale chuckled despite the lump traveling up his throat. “Honestly? No. You’ve only managed to become more interesting and complex.”

“Damn! I’ll have to find some way to become more repugnant.” With a sigh, Eletha stood. A wicked smirk tugged at her lips as she spied Astarion moving back to his tent. “I have some ideas. Please make sure Wyll doesn’t drink too much, I already warned him about the dangers of becoming me.”

“A drunken drowning would be quite the anticlimactic end for the Blade of Frontiers, I agree.” Gale watched as Eletha walked away and hooked arms with Astarion. It was strange, watching the two. They would throw on a different mask in the blink of an eye, become someone else to suit their needs or whims. Aside from them, the most duplicitous was Shadowheart, and even then, she was just guarded. People said he was hard to read sometimes, but Gale always felt like he was being honest when the situation didn’t necessitate secrecy.

It was sometimes hard to believe that they were ever in love. The rest of the time, it made perfect sense.

“Fancy taking a walk? Get away for a bit?” Eletha asked Astarion conspiratorially as her hand caught his elbow and snaked up his bicep. He lifted his eyebrows in surprise before putting on his own wicked grin.

“Oh? You want to go out into the woods, alone, with me? What will Gale think?”

“It’s a walk, darling. You look like you need to get out of here,” she answered, imitating him. He was flattered.

“Then lead the way.”

They walked quite a ways; Eletha smoking her pipe and Astarion taking sips of wine as they went. Eventually they came upon a hollow of trees illuminated by the brilliance of the moon.

“You know, I don’t know that I’ve had so much fun as when we were chasing each other across those rickety beams,” he told her with a practiced twirl of fondness as they found a suitable place to sit. Eletha chose to lean against a tree and he sat down beside her. “Even the cobwebs in my hair were worth it.”

“Rare to have fun instead of fighting for your life,” she pointed out lazily, soaking in the moon’s light.

“I would have changed my tune about you sooner if I’d known you could be so bloodthirsty,” Astarion purred, trailing a teasing finger along the back of her hand. “You were magnificent back there. Makes me wonder what other talents you’ve been hiding.”

Eletha sat up with a soft grunt. “Alright. You’ve caught me in a rare mood.”

“Oh?” Astarion was surprised for a moment. Last time they were in the woods together, just the taste of his lips made her sick. Well, that’s how he saw it, anyway. “A good fight has that effect on people, I just assumed you were immune.”

Eletha knelt in front of him, one knee on either side of his. She took a drink of his wine and some of it escaped in a little trickle from the corner of her mouth. Astarion reached up to sensually wipe it off and lick it off his fingers, maybe make a comment about her being as messy as him or just a generic postulation about how she tasted. Eletha smacked it away a little forcefully before running her fingers up the underside of his exposed forearm from elbow to wrist. 

Empty wine bottle tossed aside, she leaned forward until their noses were almost touching. Astarion lifted his face to capture her lips in a fervent kiss, but she dodge him. With her hot breath on his ear, she whispered, “When was the last time someone took care of you?”

Astarion had an answer for that: never. At least where vampire Astarion was concerned. Despite the fact that it was completely unsexy, he opened his mouth to answer what was clearly a rhetorical question.

Then her mouth was on his neck and a gasp escaped his lips in a cold puff. Her fingers, rough yet dextrous, teased his own before finding his belt. Astarion moaned as her hot tongue ran along the bottom of his ear. The moan turned into a desperate whine when she retreated.

Sitting back on his thighs, Eletha spared him only a passing glance before focusing on undoing the fastenings on his breeches. When he reached for her, this time aiming to pull up her shirt, she smacked him away once more. He tried again, not easily swayed, and she captured his hand, just to kiss and run her teeth along the inside of his wrist.

Readjusting, Eletha untucked his shirt. Lavishing his stomach with kisses, licks, and gentle scrapes of her teeth, she tugged down the waistband of his breeches. Astarion groaned in the back of his throat as she brushed her lips over his cock through his underwear. She left kisses from tip to base as she painstakingly pulled down the offending garment. He actually quivered as her tongue left a stripe of spit along its length.

Normally, Astarion wouldn’t let himself be so easily pleased. He’d fake this reaction, of course, and pepper in reactions that reflected what his mark desired most in him. Some wanted the commanding, debonair noble while others wanted a mewling plaything. But Eletha wasn’t a mark and she’d proven time and again that his body wasn’t the price for her protection.

It really was shocking to him how good it felt when he could let go of the performance. He had to fight against the innate instruction to turn off, just go through the motions. Astarion even tried to stop her so that it could be her ‘turn’ and he could show her how good he was, but she swatted him away. When he persisted, she laced their fingers together and just… held his hand. It felt almost as good as her lips and hand wrapped around his cock.

There was just a tiny worry in the back of his mind. Was she doing this just to please him? Were these just motions?

Then he noticed that her hand felt hotter. Her strokes became more insistent. He could feel the back of her throat and the filthy groan she made traveled down his cock. Gasping, Astarion bucked his hips just slightly and when she came up, moaning for air, strings of spit connecting them, he whined again. The look in her eyes was hungry and her lips smirked with pride. 

Thus began his undoing. With her left hand in his right, he laid his left hand gently on her head, following her rhythm with small rolls of his hips. Occasionally, unwilling to be done so soon, he would tug her hair just the slightest bit to pull her back and give his nerves a rest. She was relentless, swirling her tongue around him, groaning like a starving man eating at a king’s buffet.

Astarion felt a jolt of pleasure he’d never felt before and threw his head back with an unabashed moan. His hand had to leave her head, lest he push it down further in his blind ecstasy. Squeezing each other’s hand, Eletha took everything he had to give and made sure there would be no mess except for the wrinkles in their clothes and the disarray of their hair.

Boneless, Astarion watched her through hazy eyes as she made him modest and fixed her own clothing. He managed to offer her a husky chuckle and a half-cocky smile. “Are you sure I can’t interest you in some more fun?”

“That was fun enough for me, but thank you,” Eletha said politely, gathering up their discarded things.

“Why?” Astarion asked, maybe a bit too much like a plea. “Why do this for me?”

“Because I’m a little drunk, had some wizard’s weed, and well-”

Now that hollow far-away look came to her eyes. Eletha just… stared straight ahead, as if she could see something happening deep in the earth. 

“Eletha…?” Astarion’s bliss shifted into something akin to fear. He reached out hesitantly, debating the ramifications of touching her while in this state. “Lorelai.”

Eletha’s head snapped around, startling him. For a moment, with her body rigid, she seemed to be seeing someone else in his place. There was terror in her eyes. Then her shoulders relaxed and she was herself again. Smiling as if nothing had just happened, she said, “What’s a party without a little fun?”

“Right…” Astarion agreed, dragging out the syllable.

“I’m gonna try to get some sleep. You should hang out with Gale. He really misses his little tressym friend. Sounds like you would be a good replacement,” she explained cheerily as she got to her feet, dusted herself off, and marched back to camp.

Astarion was magically transported to Gale’s tent. Not really, but he couldn’t quite remember getting from the glade to camp and making the decision to sit down with Gale of all people.

“Are you alright, Astarion?” the man asked him, offering him a glass of wine.

“I’ve had the strangest experience.” Gale gave him a critical look-over. “With Eletha, I mean.”

“I’m not really the kiss-and-tell sort,” he told him only to receive a look that said ‘do you hear yourself?’ Ignoring it, he added, “It can be very easy to fall back into the arms of an old lover. I am sure it is… complicated.”

“Did your dear Mystra ever… tend to your… needs… and refuse reciprocation?” Astarion asked hesitantly, searching for the words that both conveyed his intention and couldn’t be misunderstood by Gale.

“Well, if I set aside the fact that our intimate affairs are not quite analogous to those shared between mortals-” Gale started rather academically and a little smugly. Then he actually thought about it and his face fell back into neutrality. “No. I wouldn’t say that was ever the case.”

“It’s a strange feeling,” Astarion remarked, still trying to untangle his thoughts. “Also. That may have been the best orgasm I’ve ever had, and now I’m disappointed that she went to bed.”

Gale cleared his throat. “I’m sure she has her reasons. As… elusive as they might seem.”

Astarion tilted his head and put on a smirk. “Fancy a go? Someone like you might be able to teach me a thing or two.”

Gale chuckled and raised a warding finger. “I’m afraid you will have no such luck with me, Astarion.”

Astarion pouted. “Come on. You’re not curious? All this time out in the wilderness and you don’t feel the least bit pent-up? I’m not some backwater farm girl looking for a tumble, you know.”

“Whether I have those feelings or not is irrelevant. Who knows what a sudden increase in excitement could do to the orb? A moment of destabilization when I’m unable to control it and we’re all dust.”

“That sounds very exciting, if I may say so,” Astarion purred, a hand finding Gale’s thigh under the table. Gale huffed as he moved it away, making Astarion laugh. “Ticklish, Gale? A mighty wizard defeated by just the brush of a hand?”

“Careful. The tadpole won’t protect you from this wizard’s magicks.” Astarion found Gale’s thigh again and managed to slide up a little before Gale moved away even further. “I know you’re having fun, and I don’t slight you for it, it is a bit amusing, but I am afraid you’ve come to the point where if you persist, I will consider it harrassment and be forced to retaliate most fiercely.”

Astarion sat back up, retrieving his hand from beneath the table. “I apologize, Gale. I thought I might convince you to loosen up a little.”

“Your apology is accepted. Perhaps under different circumstances, I would have taken you up on your offer.” Astarion picked up his wine glass and held it towards Gale’s. Curious, Gale held his up as well and Astarion clinked them together.

“Here’s to different circumstances, darling.”

[afantasyoffiction]

a lil intro :)

hi hello to anyone who's checking this out!

i’m caitlin, an aspiring fantasy writer and maybe poet, english literature nerd and general fandom weirdo who likes to talk a lot about all my many many obsessions :)

i'm new to actively participating on this site as opposed to watching thru the window of pinterest...but now that i write more and 9-1-1 in particular doesn't post on pinterest so much, i'm on here too rip

i talk about: writing, procrastinating writing, reading writing and characters in writing who drive me insane!

my writing: i write poetry which i will post on here occasionally! but my main writing that is intended for other ppl to read is fanfic in the below fandoms, and my fantasy wip:

my wip: a ya fantasy book (one day trilogy i hope!) about a world where witches are gone, but persecution of them isn't. trying to save her innocent sister from execution, my fmc gets dragged into a storm of political plotting, conflicting agendas and strange powers beyond her comprehension. a book about family, and realising that what you thought was a bedtime story might still be around to haunt you...

my ao3: a_fantasy_2 (but there's currently not much on there that's escaped my drafts - i'll repost anything i'm proud of here first!)

main fandoms: i have been in a ridiculous number of fandoms so this is not all of them but these are my main ones - bold are ones im currently in the trenches abt :)

9-1-1 (pls no ship war content tho i just cannot)

marauders (my og loml one true fandom its a canon event i fear)

good omens (book and tv show changed my life)

anything leigh bardugo but SoC and RoW especially

supernatural (its been a while but then again i'm fandom posting on this site so its kinda a given)

anything by chloe gong....(message me PLEASE. best ya fantasy writer and my literal writing idol)

EPIC the musical - i love this so freaking much, if you don't know what this is go find out u won't regret it

hamilton (i am in fact hamiltrash, unfortunately)

aftg (im not writing that out. if you know what that acronym is thats on you.)

tagging system: i got one of those creepy teeth 'frequent poster badges' today, so i think it might be time for me to get one of these. ahem. on an incoherent blog, i declare order:

#caitlin writes and yaps abt it - writblr content (these will almost always have the 'writblr' and 'writers on tumblr' tag as well)

#caitlin's original writing - any writing from my wips or poetry i share

#the witches wip - specific wip content!

#caitlin the english major - literature posts

#caitlin reblogs from even cooler blogs - reblogging my moots or other cool ppl!

#caitlin does ask games - making a separate tag bc i LOVE these

#shameless fanfic plug - fics that i write on ao3 and want to share here

#caitlin rambles miscellaneous - anything else thats incoherent

fandom posts will all be tagged with their fandom and with #caitlin a fandom nerd

sound good? let me know if this actually makes this blog make any more sense mk team

please send me: asks/posts/comments about these fandoms, short fic writing prompts within these fandoms, writblr content, writing questions, or literature thoughts :)

(pls don’t send me requests for money or ai content. i will block and delete, here’s why)

basically reach out if you just want to ramble about any of these things because what else is tumblr dot com for ... seriously what. actually what was this site made for it beats me

[oscconfessions]

I'mmm not the host so idk that much about object shows but I know he'd want to drop a ton for that recent ask soo here goes, I'll try my best from what memories I can grasp

Nine absoloutely loves rhytm games and is always pestering the other algebraliens (especially Six) to check out the new mods he finds

Saw is trans MtF, i also think she'd like baking

Four is constantly making jokes w/ new memes that show up and nobody gets them because he's so damn early to the bit

IDK why but the host really likes Flower x Clover so not really a headcanon but I think it fits

Speaking of, Flowers favorite MLP is Rarity

And Clover has a ton of those cheap halloween fairy wings that rip really easily, her goal is to make a biblically accurate butterfly/fairy costume eventually

Lightbulb uses typing quirks like thiz!! in her text

Paintbrush had a warrior cats phase that they never fully grw out of LOL

Cracklin (back when he was a human) always wore gloves and some kind of coat as comfort clothes

The more a character has been revived the more common it is for them to see ghosts (may or may not be projecting here) + the longer they've been dead for before their next revival makes it even more common

Electricity or machine type characters eyes can glow in the dark (also projecting) ex: Lightning, Mephone4, Charger Block, etc.

Doorstopper frolicks in fields in their freetime

Character/Fandom list for the mods

Fandoms: BFDI, II, LOTS, ION, AB

Characters:

/bfdi/nine , /bfdi/six , /bfdi/saw , /bfdi/four , /bfdi/flower , /ii/clover , [not sure how to do ship tags, srry], /other/rarity [i think?], /ii/lightbulb , /ii/paintbrush , /ion/cracklin , /bfdi/lightning , /ii/mephone4 , /lots/charger block , ab/doorstopper

new fav anon just dropped oh my god thank you -🗄️

[regretevator-confessions]

Hello hi same anon who talked about not ripping each others throats out based on what characters you like

I got a new one for you, ships!

Unless it is a darkship/proship, or a ship that causes genuine harm to a community (as in romanticizes abuse or worse), EVERY FUCKING SHIP SHOULD BE VALID. It doesn't matter if you find it weird because its a crackship, it doesn't matter if you don't agree with it because you don't ship it, THATS WHAT YOU BLOCK TAGS FOR.

HONESTLY people I know it's the internet and the consequences of your actions are less here (joke), but just because someone likes a ship you think is gross doesn't give you any right to send DEATH THREATS TO PEOPLE. JESUS. And same for those who ship something and don't ship other things! DO YOU HAVE A BRAIN??? ARE YOU THINKING??? Or is it too malnourished to understand that sending death threats and general threats is wrong? Huh?

And even if someone DOES ship a proship/darkship, then tell them that! And if they don't change it, let other people in the community know to avoid them, block them, and move on! See how easy it is to NOT harass someone and commit what is technically a crime?? Whoaaaaaaaa so easy!! The Regret community, as well as MANY other communities, is ship based. It just is. So, to anyone thinking about sending hate towards a ship they don't like or agree with, take that stick out of your ass and go touch some fucking grass. Degenerates.

That's a little mean but at this point I don't care.

Avoid the word degenerate

[kenrakenokwaho]

Fic Self-Recs

Fic authors self-rec! List your favorite five fics that you've written, then tag at least five other writers! Spread the self-love 💞

@marloviandevil was very kind to tag me, so here are my recs. They aren't in a specific order, and some are quite a few years old, but the first one holds a special place in my heart because it is one of my first fics.

1. Remember

Fandom: MCU's Avengers, Sherlock Holmes (Downey Films)

Ship: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark (if you squint)

Summary: Tony has a strange dream... or is it a memory?

Extract: What really piques his interest is the bond between Sherlock and John. It makes Tony think of Steve and himself.

2. The Pinky Promise Of A Sparrow

Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean

Ship: James Norrington/Jack Sparrow

Summary: Jack thinks about the first time he met James, many years ago, when they were foolish children caught in their fathers' quarrel, when James almost drowned... when Jack decided to risk his life to save him. He thinks about the second time they met, about the third, the fourth, and each time felt just like it was the first.

Or: The one where Jack made a promise that, in the end, he couldn't keep.

Extract: "I will get out of 'ere, luv."

A fond smile brightens the Commodore's sea-green orbs before both of them take a step back.

"I'm sure you will, Mister Sparrow, I'm sure you will."

3. Quieting Venomous Whispers

Fandom: Assassin's Creed

Ship: Hytham/Basim Ibn Ishaq

Summary: Behind veiled eyes, Basim holds on to the remnants of his humanity.

Extract: Their kisses dripped with poison before they sweetened with nectar, hands ripping away robes and armour.

4. To Mystírio tis Moíras/The Mystery of Fate

Fandom: Troy (2004)

Ship: Achilles/Hector

Summary: Mysterious are the ways of fate, unlikely soulmates brought together by the gods to stop a war meant to last decades.

Extract: "I can see now why Apollo favours you, young one. Your heart is as unalloyed alive as it is dead, prince of Troy, yet it is torn, and sorrowed... incomplete."

Hector doesn't hesitate to reply "My duty for Troy, for my people, always comes first."

"Yes, little one, but what of your soul?"

5. Kintsugi

Fandom: Kimetsu no Yaiba

Ship: Shinazugawa Sanemi/Uzui Tengen

Summary: Two souls find solace in each other after they get a new chance at life. Perhaps, this time, they will mend the wounds they couldn't on their own.

Extract: This was Sanemi taking what he wanted, the way he wanted it.

I'm tagging the only other writer I followed here from ao3, and who left one of the kindest comments ever on "Quieting Venomous Whispers": @zorthania