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orangez3st · 1 day ago

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Neither Right or Wrong

Entry to @clonexocweek - 02.15.25: What If... | Event Masterlist

What If Lesiil was a Jedi General over the Coruscant Guard?

Tags & Warnings: jedi au, forbidden relationship, implied sexual acts (no explicit descriptions at all, it's kinda going vaguely in the background), declarations of love, a few star wars swear words Pairing: Fox x Det. Lesiil Thrace (OFC Crime Investigator) Word Count: 3.8k A/N: SHE has gathered a micro fanbase 🥹🥹 This is me falling in love with my own OC again, her brain is humongous I swear and she's so pretty. Jedi!Lesiil is still a smart badass with her very own Space Sherlock Holmes core, now with newly added features: hardcore parkour lady. You 🫵🏼 accept it. Enjoy this one, thanks for all the love! 💞

“ANAKIN SKYWALKER YOU PUT ME DOWN THIS INSTANT!”

Boisterous laughter echoes through the hall they're running along… or more like Anakin is running along. Lesiil is thrown over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, his arm securely around her waist as she pounds his back with her fists, tirelessly in the beginning, but now she has resorted to only shout at him.

“It’s just you're so small!”

“I am 5’7, that number is absolutely not small! You're bigger!” She gives a light yelp and another slap to his back when he jostles her, wind blowing past her coiled ponytail and blood rushing to the top of her head. “And taller!”

Eventually exhaustion catches up to the man, her childhood friend during their padawanship in the Temple. Their age difference? Not so far. Merely 3 years. He'd been assigned to Obi-Wan Kenobi – whose questionable knighthood had been accelerated, after Qui-Gon Jinn tragically died in Naboo – while she'd had just been apprenticing under Master Windu for two years. Upon being approached by her for the first time at Master Jinn's funeral, little Ani found a new safe place to confide all his internal turmoil in, and since then their friendship had flourished.

Anakin puts her down, sweat and the biggest stupid smile gracing his face after such a sport. He picked her up when she was heading to a meeting chamber where her former master and the Grand Master of the Order have been waiting for her, requesting her presence.

Lesiil gives him a last playful swat across his bicep.

“That was quite a run, Anakin,” Obi-Wan muses out of nowhere, appearing from one of the rooms with a held back grin. “If only you could do that in such exact speed in our last mission.”

“Hey I still ran faster than you–” he points at the other man “–Obi-Wan.”

As the men trades playful banter among themselves, Lesiil calls upon the Force to restore her strength and calm her breathing, and perhaps snake out a tendril to friendly, teasingly, poke Anakin in the back of his mind. Their bond is still active, between good friends, even though they're oftentimes separated in the war. He's in the front lines cutting through droids with spectacularly out-of-the-box strategies, while she remains planetside on Coruscant, stationed in Coruscant Guard Headquarters ensuring planetwide security.

“Alright, men, listen up,” the Marshal Commander began, the other 64 commanders of the corps were standing in attention in the assembly hall and watching on with anticipation. “With the Jedi Council’s advice to the Supreme Chancellor’s office over the wellbeing and security of this entire planet, they have assigned us one of their own to help in our efforts. Starting today, our corps, and all of us, are now under the command of High Jedi General Lesiil Thrace.”

Among others.

Chasing criminals. Routine patrols. Capturing enemy of the state. Countless hours spent in the command room, briefing and debriefing, dismantling and reassembling and altering strategies. Senatorial security. Prison duty. Even secretly busying herself in her small kitchen of her barrack quarters in the building, offering a huge batch of her home Alderaani dishes for the on-call troopers who passed by, in time for latemeal.

She'd never want to be a neglecting General, after all. And Marshal Commander Fox has been helpful to keep her up to the clones’ upbringing… her men’s upbringing.

She refused a seat in the council. It was a reluctant offer, after all. Aside that she is too young a High Jedi General of her own admission, the other Master's are far wiser.

Lesiil lets the remains of her fond chuckles fade away, and promptly cuts into their banter. “If you two are finished, I have a meeting to attend to. I will catch you both at dinner tonight?”

Anakin visibly pouts. Ah, still a child at heart, this man. “Can't do, Les. We're deployed in four hours.”

She smiles emphatically. “Later times then, Ani.”

“How is Coruscant treating you, Lesiil?” Obi-Wan chimes in, a kind smile upon his bearded face, albeit teasingly, “Not casting a boredom on you yet, I hope?”

“I am undoubtedly less experienced than you individually. Other than being a veteran after the Battle of Geonosis, which left me scarred over so many comrades lost, I have no experience in war whatsoever. My past apprenticeship merely carried me to places where humanitarian efforts were needed.”

She clutched the hilt of her lightsaber, clipped to her sash.

“Although, I daresay my sharpest weapon is not my lightsaber, but my sharp mind.” The Force sent her a wave of calmness, passing the positive whispers of these… men, towards her. Confidently, she continued, “I might be young, but the safety of Coruscant and its people is significant to me, too. It is my greatest honor to be assigned here to serve with you all – men of valor.”

“Certainly not,” Lesiil answers, “It's actually been a blast. I believe I've seen so much action as you have–”

“But less terrifying,” Anakin interrupts, his cybernetic arm coming up to rub his chin. “In a sense of war. Right?”

Lesiil nods in confirmation. “That would be it!”

With a wave of goodbye, Lesiil restarts her trek back to the designated meeting chamber.

“Go ahead. Push the button. You're welcome to do so while it's in your grasp. And within my watch, of course.”

After a mission that involved a wild chase to recapture a loose criminal, Lesiil had proven herself to be useful. Like… flipping and jumping across rooftops in the lower levels, for example, before letting the Guards subduing the poor sod.

Marshal Commander Fox’s apathetic helmeted gaze was hesitant for a second. Then, for unknown reasons, the man unlatched his bucket from his shoulders. Dark curls fall out, sweeping across his forehead and kissing his eyelids. His face was young, but soft stress lines that spoke experience were present too.

Then he lit the saber. Green plasma blade emitted from the hilt, which was wrapped in strips of red leather, thrumming with power in his hand.

“It's heavy,” the Marshal remarked, and Lesiil noticed his voice was lighter and softer than his peers, and not because of being used to hearing it through the helmet's vocoder.

“Not for us Force-users,” she smiles, stepping back to watch him swing the blade experimentally. “The Force grants it lighter for us to wield.”

He lifted a dark eyebrow at her. The scarred one, on the right. “Thus the acrobatics?” he asked, referencing the most recent stunt she'd pulled.

Lesiil chuckled. “It does help us in many things." She watched on fondly. “A lightsaber to a Jedi is their life. As is mine. My lightsaber is my life.”

So… I'm holding her life in my hand?

It was unintentional. The Marshal's wonder was loud. And Lesiil, stronger with the Force, couldn't help but hear it. It was an innocent thought – almost childlike, but it stirred something within her.

Trust.

“Master Yoda,” Lesiil greets as soon as she steps into the chamber, “Master Windu.”

Both masters look up from their served cups of tea. Late afternoon light casts a golden glow through the window and onto the modest pieces of furniture. Mace Windu offers a fond smile, “Good afternoon, Lesiil.” He is, after all, Lesiil's former master.

“In, you come, Master Thrace.” Yoda gestures to a seat to his left hand, just across Windu. “Sit here, you will.”

Lesiil strides in, basking in the safety of the bubble the Force seems to provide and the peace that radiates from both men. “Thank you for inviting me here, Masters.” But she supposes this is better than the headquarters. Even on-call, the men can seem to be… rowdy, at times. Not that she prohibits them to act like it. She encourages them, even. To just be themselves.

“The Temple will always be your home,” Windu says.

The… headquarters. It's also my home.

“Why is the Jedi sworn to celibacy?”

“Not exactly celibacy, Commander Thorn,” Lesiil explained, “Just romantic attachments. We're not allowed to marry. Our core values encouraged us to be selfless individuals. That, and so our focus to maintain balance would not split.”

Downtime among the Guard's command clique was rare. When it struck, they colonized one common room to themselves. Lesiil was invited, oddly. And now everyone was either sprawled on the couch or playing the console in the holoscreen.

“Backtrack, sir,” Commander Stone glanced in disbelief. “You can't marry?”

“Such practice is prohibited, yes,” Lesiil hummed in thought, “Except in special cases. To save their species, for example.”

“Regulations stated us clones aren't allowed formal relationships, too,” Commander Thire joined in.

Looking around the gathered commanders, a fond and empathetic smile tugged on Lesiil's lips. “I suppose we're alike in so many ways, then.”

“You… think so, General?”

She turned from her spot in the battered armchair – her favorite spot – and found the Marshal Commander casually leaned back against the couch's arm, next to Sergeant Hound who occupied one of the consoles. Sans helmet, his raven black locks fell over his forehead. Now laden with streaks of white no thanks to the stress of ever demanding duties, it somehow made him even… easier on the eye.

“Why not? We are all chosen to be here to do what we do.”

The Marshal's warm amber eyes softened at her, as if sympathetically. Or was that just a brief illusion? “We have duty,” said his softer voice – again, less gravelly than his brothers’.

The phrase somehow dampened the smoldering embers inside her. Either for now, or for good, she felt challenged to see where this went in the future.

“That is correct, Marshal.”

“We'd like to talk about reassignments.”

It surprises her enough that her grip on her cup nearly slips. The Force senses her subtle distress, and Lesiil can feel it perching on her shoulders to provide comfort as much as it can.

“Reassignments, Master?”

“The Council deliberates of your potential, your hard skills,” Windu nods mindfully, “It could be beneficial for the men in the front lines.”

Front lines.

The last time she went to the front lines was when she lost her twin brother Railuu in Geonosis.

She isn't sure to go back. It never comes to mind. To hear firing blasters, trudging through various terrains and weather, being stuck in a war room concocting a strategy through and through and at least three backup plans. When the word came she was assigned to the Guards, she'd accepted without a second thought.

Fear drove her here to stay, but familiar comfort welcomes her like home. To be planetside. Home. Coruscant is home, where she can place her feet steadily on.

A moment too long, the Force caresses her cheek to calm her storms.

Lesiil clears her throat. “May I hear further about this proposition?"

Windu carries on, “As you know, each unit of the Army is assigned with elite troopers of the Special Operations Brigade; Republic Commandos, ARC Troopers. Their tasks are significant for pre-campaign efforts, particularly reconnaissance and intelligence gathering.” Briefly, he trades glances with Yoda. “We were thinking… you are suitable for this position.”

Positioned high up in the chain of command leading an entire corps, Lesiil is granted her own modified plastid armor, like the ones Obi-Wan and Anakin adorned. She leaves it unpainted, save for the left shoulder bell where one of the men had meticulously done the Guard's insignia.

Matched with the Marshal Commander.

It's where she belongs now. With the men of the Guard.

So even hearing the offer feels like a betrayal to the men.

“To… lead the elite Brigade?”

“Exactly like you said, it is not,” Master Yoda says, “But transferred where you are needed, you would be.”

“You were an exceptional padawan of mine with a truly brilliant mind,” Windu continues, his generally neutral phrases now sounding so far away, and this time it sounds more like persuasion. Sure, she was his treasured padawan, but still. “It's complex, yet structured at the same time.”

“Sir, I am once again asking you to never cartwheel through buildings again.”

Lesiil threw a smile from her cot in the medwing – her arm was in a sling, one foot lifted with one of its own, and one hell of a headache. And medicines. “Thank you for all the concern, Thorn.”

The amber-haired man scowled. Playfully, Lesiil noted. “That wasn't sarcasm, though, right? That better be a promise.” He clears his throat. “Erhm. Sir.”

“I promise not to cartwheel through buildings again.”

Thorn sighed. “But you still wanna do the other tricks, aren't you.”

“Who else is it gonna be? Your Marshal Commander?”

“I would be doing what, exactly?” the devil strode in. Upon seeing the very person uttered it, he faltered in his steps. Thorn snickered behind his hand, his shoulders vibrating. Fox glared at his brother under the helmet before turning to his General, almost in attention. “Sorry, sir.”

Lesiil frowned at him, storm grey eyes darting past his apathetic visor. “I just think you're not, Marshal,” she settled with a smirk before regarding his sudden presence, “Is there a matter of importance?”

Thorn suddenly felt uncomfortable and donned his helmet. “See ya in a bit, General. Heal fast. With the Force. Or… whatever.”

Lesiil's sweet airy laughter chimed throughout the medwing. The sound drove Thorn's flush on his cheeks three shades deeper, and a fresh lighter shade emerged on Fox's under his helmet.

“Ugh, stang.” Thorn facepalmed (or visorpalmed, whatever). “Sorry, Fox. I'll just… see myself out.”

“In control, you are. And strong with the Force, you are, as well,” Yoda joins in, the raspiness of his aged cadence tinged with wisdom, though masking their, simply, hope for her to accept. “Either in the intelligence division or the elite Brigade, be suitable, your sharp and analytical thinking skills could.”

Lesiil coughed. “Oh, Force…”

Fox hurried to her bedside. “You didn't need to laugh that hard, sir.” He poured a glass of water, placed it down momentarily to help his General propped up against the pillow properly. “You're still healing.”

“Yes,” Lesiil smiled meekly, glancing at him in gratitude as he helped her drink. His gloved fingers were light under her jaw to tip her head slightly backward as he held the glass. “Thank you, Marshal. And forgive me.”

“At both, you don't need to.”

Yes, but still. “Now.” Lesiil settled back into her pillows. “Is there something that needs me?”

Fox stilled for a moment. “Nothing else.” However, the subtlest swivel of his head told Lesiil otherwise. “Just wanted to check on your current wellbeing, General.”

“Forgive me for being too frank, but… Is there an option where I can choose to refuse?”

Both masters tense in their seats and share another inquisitive glance. Lesiil only registers it as utter shock. “What would be the reason?” her former master demands firmly.

“Take off your helmet, Marshal.”

Fox tensed, his heart skipping a beat. He knew what his General was. Part of the genealogy that made her whole was of a Lorrdian blood. And she had been encouraged by the Jedi of the Order to train reading nonverbal cues by the ways of the Lorrdian during her padawanship, deeming it would be useful for herself in the future.

Seemed like it was, just now.

“Yes, sir.”

Firmly, he reached up and took his bucket off. One of his hands instantly flew up to comb his grown curls back in order to at least look presentable.

“Now say that again.”

He blinked. He felt his face shift. He felt how his breathing changed and how the faster rhythm of his heart accommodated his nervousness. All were displayed for his General to study. To observe. To find the meaning of.

His General, whom he fell for, in all the wrong ways. So many wrong ways.

“I just want to see you.”

Lesiil lets out a breath, following the guidance of the Force that's still perching over her shoulders like a homemade knitted scarf to tap into her confidence. “There are so many lives on Coruscant that, if lost to the war, would be forever in our guilt,” she says.

“General.”

Lesiil cracked her eyes open, the warm cocoon of all the life energy around her dissipating at Fox's presence by the table. No, she wasn't falling asleep in the mess hall. Everyone who held her fondness knew she loved to meditate wherever she wanted. Mess hall was her favorite. She simply found joy in tuning the voices out and reuniting with the Force to challenge her own focus.

Her Marshal Commander was ready to escort her out. “Do you have a moment?”

Lesiil studied him.

There was a long silence between the two as they waited for each other.

“Would it be just the two of us, Marshal?”

“Yes,” he answered a little too quickly, “...sir.”

Smiling to mask how her heartbeat was picking up, Lesiil swept her lightsaber hilt off the table surface and patted her reddish brown tunic down. “Lead the way, Marshal,” she said, easily falling into step by his side. When the hallway was nearly empty, she leaned in just an inch and lowered her voice, “And when it's just the two of us, you may call me Lesiil.”

Instead of a pair of warm amber brown eyes, the Marshal’s visors stared back at her, his steps faltering just a little.

“Then it's Fox for you, Lesiil.”

“The Guards have been flourishing under my command. I learned from the men at first, then the men learned from me in return, as I've always given them countless advice and precautions in order to eventually perfect our protocols – all by the insight of a Jedi.”

Yoda hums in acknowledgment, his head nodding once, slow.

“I prefer to continue my duty here,” Lesiil declares firmly, “Stationed in the Coruscant Guard.”

His lips molded against hers like flower petals mashed together. Fox tasted like caf, his only source of spirit during the day, and he tasted pleasant on her tongue. His gloved hands ran up her sides and curled into the back of her reddish brown tunic. Lesiil matched his passionate pace with her own, fingers tangled up in his rich and dark locks. It was surprisingly soft to her palms.

Fox pulled away, breathing into her swollen, parted lips. He had forgotten to switch off the low power of the lighting system in his office, but he could still see the mesmerizing storm brewing inside the greyness of her eyes clearly. There was no conflict he could see – only reciprocated passion.

With a low sound emitting from her throat, Lesiil fell into him once more, eager to feel the moistness of his lips, eager to draw gravelly sounds out of him. Her vambraces clicked against his shoulder bells as her arms wound around his neck, pulling him in for a deeper encounter that involved a daring sleight of tongue.

Fox accepted the challenge.

“Good men, the Guards are,” commends Yoda. Then his eyebrows raise in question. “How fares Marshal Commander Fox, do I wish to know.”

“I'd like to apologize, sir.”

Lesiil stood in the doorway of her barrack quarters, her eyebrows twitched into a frown. And, she could feel her lips tingling all of a sudden, cheeks flushing slightly remembering their last encounter.

Fox's helmeted gaze was firm on her. “It won't happen again.”

Using the Force to sense if there was anybody around was totally wrong, but she did it anyway before pulling the Marshal Commander in.

“I personally think we lack the talk, Fox.”

“Talk, sir?”

“It’s Lesiil,” she insisted, “I… I cannot go back from what we did yesterday. There is only the way forward for me.”

“He is well,” she smiles briefly, touched by the small check-in gesture, “A headstrong, resilient man. Tireless and extremely dedicated to overall security, and the safety of us all.”

Fox pulled away first, his shoulders heaving from running out of breath. “Do we still need that talk?” he asked, his lips still softly gliding across hers.

“There have been these… unspoken things…” She pecked those warm lips once, her breath fanning across his skin sent the hair on the back of his neck bristling. “...that are also unspeakable in the halls of the Jedi Temple.”

“Enlighten me then, Jedi.”

“There can't be romantic attachments. I've said this before.”

“And?” He raised an eyebrow, the glint in his eyes spoke of a challenge. “Isn't it speakable enough as a reminder to be enforced onto you Jedi people?”

“Yes,” Lesiil nearly chuckled, “But that is the problem.”

“And you?”

She blinks. “Pardon, Master?”

Mace Windu briefly raises a single eyebrow. “Do you two work well?”

“We always do, Master Windu,” she replies without missing a beat, reminiscing the times where she and the command clique spent hours upon strategy and cups of caf. “Coordination is of utmost importance in a group, after all. Along with seamless communication.”

“Have you… done this before?”

“...Let's just say it has been a while.”

He smirked, a huff of laughter escaping his lips. “I thought you said no romantic attachments.”

“This could mean so many ways,” Lesiil said, “Romantic is only one of them.”

“Is this… romantic to you?”

She looked into him, grey eyes shining like stars, and she glowed even brighter as her lips pulled into a grin. “I would rather follow your way of thinking. Or let you guess mine.”

“I rely on the men of the Guard, and I trust my life in them. We have a connection to each other in order to maintain a healthy, neutral relationship. In return, they trust their own lives in me.”

Heavy breaths. Low sounds that were high-pitched at the same time. Hands held tight. Lips sealed and molded against one another, bodies and their movements already drowning in the haze of passion that engulfed both of them like a safe blanket.

“To lead such a significant unit, trust is important, as we all know and believe,” Lesiil says affirmingly, drawing a deep breath. “Thus why Marshal Commander Fox and I are such good friends.”

“Am I allowed to do this all night, mesh'la? When we all should've retired to our quarters… but there'll be only you and me. On this bed. Just like this. In this bland as kark bedroom of yours ‘cause you can't have any mortal possession and all that bantha shit.”

“Do not let possessiveness hinder you, Lesiil. Maintaining a good friendship with your men is commendable – encouraged, in fact, to ensure effective outcomes,” Windu warns, his tone low, “But be mindful of your selflessness, too.”

“S’gonna be so wrong of me…” he grunted against her bare skin, his body moving against hers, “to say that I've fallen in love with you, Lesiil.”

Lesiil tilts her chin up. “There is no passion,” she recites, “There is serenity.”

“No, Fox…”

“It surely will not hinder me, Masters.”

“...I love you too.”

Taglist (Form): @yoursrosie @hellfiresky @msmeredithrose @filamentlights @heidnspeak @lucyysthings

A/N: Yes this came up fresh in the same day I posted this. Because y'all love her so much 🥹

#clonexocweek #clonexocweek2025 #clonexocweek2025 day 6 #commander fox x oc #fox x oc #fox x lesiil | z3st #commander fox #forbidden relationship #jedi #declarations of love #read “tags & warnings” above for more #star wars #clone wars #tcw #star wars fanfiction #x oc #star wars x oc

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tunastime · 2 months ago

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hell tunastime may i request a 34 sending you the smirking cat image

you are an enabler of the worst kind. don't send me that freaking cat smirking image I can't stand you. anyway myke this is for you, the only tuna and lovelace enjoyer that I know besides myself. this is on my MCCI playlist, so that's the ONLY reason I have for writing this. besides myke.

(574 words)

Tuna stands outside of the third parkour course with their eyes squinted. It's bright, and the everlasting sun is blocked only partially by the big green fishing hat balanced on their head. Their tail flicks agitatedly as they rock forward and back and fold their arms. They're still shaking off the heat and exhaustion of their last run, hair pushed back and sticking to their forehead where it still manages to fall forward.

5 minutes and 37 seconds.

That's their best time right now—which is to say, not what they're looking for in a parkour run. Another annoyed flick of their tail. Right now, the Shepherd's most advanced run is 2 minutes and 16 seconds. Luckily, nobody else in their party had run the third course since it reset, so really, they were only batting against themselves for the basic. They could afford the few mistakes that came with learning a run and go from there, hopefully to a higher score. Out of the corner of their eye, Lovelace tilts her head.

"Standin' around for fun?" She asks, leaning back on her hands. From under the brim of the hat, mask tied tight through the belt loops of their black cargo pants, Tuna furrows their eyebrows. They stretch slightly, their now tanned, bare arms pulling this way and that.

"No," they grumble. "I'm trying to figure out how to mentally prepare myself for the second worst parkour run of my freaking career."

Lovelace laughs.

"Well can I follow?"

"Are you actually going for time or are you just gonna laugh at me?"

Lovelace shrugs.

"Probably just laugh."

Tuna sighs. Not much else they could do.

"Fine," they huff. "Just don't trip me and I'll be fine."

Lovelace bounds over, all smiles and hands stuffed in her pockets. She looks them up and down for a moment, head slightly cocked. Tuna squints.

"You don't trip, you just don't jump," Lovelace teases, still smiling. Tuna rolls their eyes, laughing to themselves. The smile that worms onto their face is instinctual.

"I do jump—it's—I'm not good at this, so I just fall. I over-jump. I don't do it 'cause I'm good. I do it for fun."

"I think that's cute."

Tuna blinks at her, grinning confusedly.

"What? Me being a tryhard and still failing? Do you think I’m cute?"

"Pfft—" Lovelace snorts. "No." Then she looks away, expression faltering. "No I don't. actually. I don't. No."

"Well,” They muse. “I'm gonna try really hard to do well, but... you know how I am."

"Mhm," Lovelace manages to eke. Her eyes flick over them again.

"Last longer if you take a picture," they hum, putting their hands on their hips. The irritated flick of their tail has turned now into a slow sweep, keeping their balance as they rock back and forth again, testing the weight on their heels. Lovelace raises her eyebrows. She seems to regain some of her composure as she tilts her chin up.

"I'll do that when you beat your time, how about it?"

"I'll hold you to that," Tuna smiles, a mouth full of sharp teeth. Lovelace smiles back, but not without the wobbly falter of someone trying to ignore an internal ping to their system. If Lovelace could blush, she'd probably be red by now.

Cute.

With a huff of a laugh, Tuna shakes out the tension in their hands, drops into a lunge, and hits the start timer around their wrist.

(send me a number 1-100 and I'll write a little thing based off the song!)

#tuna ocs #c!tuna #text #fics #my ocs #lovelace #mcyt #mcyt fic #lovelace and tuna don't have a fun flirty ship name yet. tunalace is dumb sorry #hi myke i hope you enjoy this. audience of freaking one but it was fun to write and i like them a lot #they are sooooo silly to me #spotify ask game #spotify wrapped asks 2024 #asks #myketheartista #mutuals

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dmwrites · 7 months ago

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The royal archer brought his king the head Impulsesv, blood still dripping from where the neck had been severed from its body.

“Thank you, Sir HotGuy,” Rentheking said, voice strong and demanding obedience. He took the head, grasping the hairs of its Mohawk and holding it up for all of the royal court to see. “This, my subjects, is what happens to those who dareth oppose me!”

In the eyes of his subordinates, he saw fear and disgust. Lady Cleo rolled her eyes, but that was to be expected of her. What mattered is that they saw, that this head served as a reminder of consequence, of victory.

After the general assembly finished, and Scar was given a hefty tip for the murder, the hermits left, aside from the king’s right hand man, Bdubs. He bustled around, cleaning up water bottles and crumbs left behind. Ren watched him work, lounging on his throne, one hand idly playing with Impulse’s hair.

“Bdubs. Approach thine king,” King Ren said suddenly.

“Of course,” Bdubs replied warmly, and bowed in front of Ren. “What do you need, my king?”

“You know, as my right hand to the throne, much consideration must be done on the employment of the wenches that serve me.”

“The wenches,” Bdubs echoed. “Of course.”

“How do I know those in the court do not secretly want me gone and dead? How do I know those closest to me do not plan my demise while I sleep?”

“Loyalty tests! Those knaves must prove their loyalty! I could rig up some kind of test, parkour and puzzles and-”

“I like the idea of a loyalty test,” Ren mused, stroking the hair on the decapitated head. “But skill can be faked. True loyalty is proving that you give yourself to me. You are loyal to me, right, Sir Bdubs?”

“Of course I am,” Bdubs replied, bowing again.

“But how do I know that? After all, the wounds are still fresh from our last bout in the death games. And you were on the side of the enemy.”

“You mean Double Life?” Bdubs looked at Ren, confused. “That’s a whole different world, baby. I don’t feel Impulse’s pain here, and BigB isn’t even here. What are you talking about? Respectfully, of course.”

“Are you willing to prove your loyalty, sir Bdubs?” Ren asked.

“Yes. Of course I am,” Bdubs said with a sigh. “Whatever puts these fears to bed, my king.”

“Kiss the head of thine enemy.”

“What?” Bdubs asked, clearly taken aback.

“You would kiss my shoes, no? What difference is this?”

“I…”

“Your soul was bound to this man once, lest ye forget. What difference is a kiss alive or dead?” Ren held out the decapitate head of Impulse, his hand deep in his hair.

Bdubs stared at the head, the open mouth and the blood that dripped from the end of it. It was Impulse, yes, but a gorey, horrible version of him, death leaking from every pore of what remained of him. His scalp stretched horribly from where Ren was holding him by the hair. Bdubs gulped, glancing at his king.

“You know, i was the one who came up with this whole kind idea in the first place, Ren,” Bdubs said nervously. “I don’t think I, of all people, need to prove my loyalty…”

“Kiss the head, Sir Bdubs. Prove you care not for the enemy any longer,” Ren growled, thrusting the head towards Bdubs. More blood sprinkled onto the floor with heavy splats.

Bdubs approached the throne, every fiber of his body telling him to run from this horrid scene. He held Impulse’s dead, rotting head by the sides of his face, and pressed his lips to Impulse’s cold, rubbery ones. Impulse tasted like blood. Bdubs opened his eyes and stared into blank, soulless ones.

RentheKing put a hand to the back of Bdubs’ head, scratching and petting his hair like he was a well behaved dog. “A final kiss to a love no more- you have proved your loyalty well today, Sir Bdubs,” he was holding Bdubs head in such a way that he was forced to stay nose-to-nose with the corpse.

Bdubs swallowed down a shuddering sob. “Of course, your majesty. I am loyal.”

#tw gore #bdubs #rendog #rentheking #hc9 #double life smp mentions #hermitshipping #<- kind of but it’s more horrible then that #impulse is there but only by head so I’m not gonna tag him lolol #bit more of a rauncy story kind of but it happens

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the-fallen-blue · 2 months ago

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Reading a lot of video game fanfic recently and there's a really interesting, idk, ludonarrative scale that writers exist on.

Like on one end, there's stuff that has no justification in-universe, which is purely for the sake of fun gameplay, but it's acknowledged in-universe. Party size is a big one for this. The idea that the protagonist is trying to save the world, cannot afford to take any risks or lose a single fight, has ten skilled fighters sitting at home base, and still just only ever decides on two to three to take to any conflict, is objectively deranged, and there's seldom if ever anything in any of these universes to actually justify it, even something as slim as "only four guys fit in the shuttle." But a lot of games do, nevertheless, reinforce *in the narrative* that if someone's not with you, they genuinely weren't with you, whether it's BG3's "they literally tell you your party is full and whine about staying in camp" or Inquisition's "woUlD HaVe liKeD To haVE beEn tHeRe" from Blackwall if you bring him a Warden widget at base instead of taking him to find it, or simply the mere fact of approval changes only hitting characters who are present.

And consequently, players (and thus writers) sort of internalize this as Just A Thing That Happens in the universe. 90% of Inquisition fics have the Inquisitor taking three people out into the world with them and leaving the rest at Skyhold for absolutely no reason other than that's what happens in the game, even though the only reason it happens in the game is to make combat for the omniscient omnipotent player fun, something that is not at all real for the actual tired, bloody, mortally threatened characters. And while that is arguably quite silly, it also makes perfect sense. The text of the game literally tells us this is happening, whether it makes tactical or real-world sense or not, so it would be unusual for a writer to write that it wasn't.

But on the other end, there's stuff that is not acknowledged in-universe, stuff with absolutely no rational connection to the narrative at all. The enemies come at the characters in consistent, predictable waves, in numbers that make sense for video games but wouldn't in the real world (a hundred wolves ten yards north of a farm, dozens of space assassins on a remote ten person space station, six of a type of demon used as a trash mob that, in lore, requires dozens of highly trained soldiers to stop only one). The character is subject to an attack that would be both impossible and immediately lethal in the real world and the fantasy world alike, five or six times, because the author is describing the exact attack animation of an enemy move; the character retaliates in an exact description of the flashy physically impossible move bound to the right bumper button. The character finds a ring on a 600-year-old corpse that makes that move 10% more effective numerically when worn, described in a way that just barely obscures that the in-game item has actual literal damage numbers on it.

To be clear, there is nothing wrong with this. One should write anywhere along the scale that one desires. If your muse is struck by describing the four implausible conveniently-spaced plant-hangars that Ezio jumps up on his way to climb a trellis in precise detail, if a parkour sequence tickled your id so hard that you had to take it to the page, that is your absolute right, and a lot of your readers will be just as genuinely delighted as you to be like "omg I remember climbing that exact building." The gameplay is part of the story in a video game, and a totally legitimate part of the conversation that we're all having with each other when we read and write fic.

But from a dev perspective, this is a pretty important lesson that the gameplay is part of the story, no matter how sharp or obvious you, the dev who is used to handwaving rings of +10dmg, think the line between mechanics and narrative might be. So, if it is a core premise of the story you're trying to tell that a particular type of demon is a boss fight for a dozen guys, don't make it a trash mob, because to the players who fight six million of the thing over their sixty hours of play, that's the portrayal that will be real. Definitely don't have your characters actively comment about not being present for things in the current game if it will be important for your story in a later game that they have the prestige and knowledge from having been part of the event. And remember, when you add random collectables to weird places, that you have now irrevocably imbued into someone's canon that their Grim Sober Angsty Space Marine is doing weird hops up the side of a light fixture to grab a jar of pink armor paint.

#two conclusions here:#one. dragon age should have been a survival horror series it would fix so much about the fandom #two. hzd has really really good game design because when aloy sets traps or swaps weapons in fic my only reaction is 'yes of course'#also hey druckmann if ludonarrative dissonance isn't real than how come every single izzymancing hawke #has the same two scars on belly and back #from the arishok's overwrought disemboweling animation hmm?

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roleplay-finder-search · 4 months ago

Note

🌅 20nb, multifandom, not replacing any of my current rps!!

hi!! i’ve recently been meaning to load up on more rps, so i figured that it was time to put out an ad!!

this rp will take place on either

- tumblr

- email

- google docs

- fb messenger

my timezone is PDT, and i work about 30 hours a week, but i will have availability! just be lenient with me :D and as for writing abilities, i’m more often than not lit to adv-lit! i also tend to mirror whoever i’m rping with!! nsfw for romantic pairings is alright with me, but never enforced!

also i’m not super fond of rapid fire, and i usually only do one or two replies a day (tempo slows down even more when i’m working)

i LOVE roleplaying aus, but i also don’t mind canon centric plots! i have a handful of au concepts (albeit cliche ones) but i’d love to expand on the concept to make it our own or even combine two or more pre-existing ones together!!

for ships i mostly lean towards mxm or mxnb!!

here are the fandoms and pairings i’m looking for! (/r for romantic, /p for platonic) (also! surrounded by parentheses means they’re my muse, and i’d prefer to play as them!!)

REGRETEVATOR:

(infected) / pest /r

(infected) / lampert /r

GENSHIN IMPACT:

(xiao) / kazuha /r

(kaeya) & (diluc) /p (ragbros!!!! kaeluc dni)

TOTAL DRAMA:

(noah) / alejandro (/r)

(noah) / cody (/r)

DANGANRONPA:

(korekiyo shinguji) / (rantaro amami) /r

(korekiyo shinguji) / shuichi saihara /r

(kaito momota) / shuichi saihara /r

(kaito momota) / kokichi oma /r

SCOTT PILGRIM:

(wallace wells) / scott pilgrim /r

(wallace wells) / todd ingram /r

(stephen stills) / young neil /r

PARKOUR CIVILIZATION:

(evbo) / emf /r OR /p

(evbo) / (seawatt) /r

parkour polycule /r

ps: i’m also open to OC x OC plots!! i DON’T do OC x CC however.

give this post a like and i’ll reach out!!!!

☀️

#18+ rp #mxm rp #mxnb rp #regretevator rp #genshin impact rp #total drama rp #danganronpa #scott pilgrim #parkour civilization #cc x cc rp #oc x oc rp

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msweebyness · 1 year ago

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MiracOlympus- The Science Deities

Here's the next round of MiracOlympus Deities, the science kiddies! Enjoy, and as always, @imsparky2002 and @artzychic27!

Marc:

(Persephone)

God of flowers and the Spring

Very close to his older sister, Mylene

Has the power to restore life

Fell in love with Nath instantly, and went to the Underworld by choice (Mylene ships them)

Soft, sweet boi

Zoe:

(Selene)

Goddess of the moon

Considerably more humble than her sister

Frequently exchanges gossip with Chloe. (She sees everything during the night, like Chloe does during daytime)

Watches over mortal children during the night to keep them from harm

Trying to figure out how to make a lunar rainbow for Cosette

Denise:

(Gaia)

Godex of the Earth

The most Zen of all the deities, great at mediating conflicts

Sees literally everything that happens on Earth, gossips with the sun/moon sisters

Is considerably grumpier during the Winter months

Helps Simon to keep his cool

Simon:

(Ouranos)

God of Space and the Cosmos

A FAR more benevolent version, obvi

Has a bit of an issue with needing routine and anxiety

Another member of the gossip squad

Fascinated by human technology

Cosette:

(Iris)

Deity of the rainbow

Everything it wears is an explosion of color

Official Olympus makeup artist

Rides between Earth and Olympus on a rainbow

Helps Alix with messenger duties

Aurore:

(Zephyrus)

Goddess of the West Wind and warm months

Can actually kick up a hell of a storm when mad

Creates warm winds with her parasol

Still a bit of a perfectionist

Has wings like a dove's

Mireille:

(Boreas)

Goddess of the North Wind and the cold

Temperature drops 20 degrees when she arrives

Only shows emotion around people they trust, like Aurore

All the snow-themed accessories

Has wings like a snowy owl's

Ismael:

(Pan)

God of mischief and the wildlands

Alix's brother in prankster supremacy

Really enjoys freaking out mortals in the woods

VERY protective of nature, like Mylene and Juleka

Is a boss on the reed flute

Also, he has the legs of a goat

Reshma:

(Nyx)

Goddess of the dark

ROCKING that cloak of stars

Mortals fear her, though she wishes this weren't the case

Besties with Ismael, helps with a lot of his pranks

Can talk to shadows

Jean:

(Thalia)

Muse of Theater, specifically comedy

Gets along well with his eight siblings, but loves their sister, Evie (Erato), and twin, Jesse (Melpomene), the most. (Don't tell the others)

The most dramatic deity you will ever meet, lives for the theater

Has a ton of superstitions that they follow to the letter

Is writing a romantic play for his boyfriend, Austin T.

Lacey:

(Nike)

Goddess of Victory

Very competitive, but her friends reign her in

Often attends mortal sporting events

Enjoys doing parkour on the peaks of Olympus

Laurel wreaths are her signature accessory

Leave your thoughts in the comments and reblogs!

#miraculous ladybug #miracolympus #greek gods au #science kids #mlb ocs

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practically-an-x-man · 11 months ago

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You get a professional animator to do one (1) animatic for each of your OCs. What song are you chosing, and what vibes are you going for with each OC?

Ooooooh thank you!!! I've thought about hypothetical animatics for some of my OCs before, but... not ALL of them, so this will be interesting!

Rae: Free by Mother Mother. I'm imagining every "Love let my love inside go... free" being a bloom of her abilities, all this bright silver light as she puts shields around what she loves, and all the other parts of the song being some gentler moments from her life.

Robin: I think it would be fun to play into her musical theatre/opera side - Let's Hear It for the Boy by Deniece Williams (from Footloose). The animatic would jump between her onstage, playing out the song as an actor in the musical, and some little soft scenes of her and Peter being all cute together.

Madison: I know when you recommended it first I said that Belladonna by Ava Max was more of a Nikoletta song (and it is, but I have a different animatic idea for her here), but it could work for Madison too I think. It would focus on her mutation, maybe a few fight scenes with her blinking in and out of sight with her glass knives. Then we see her knives get shattered, and the fins and spines breaking through her skin (sort of a stylized version of what happens in her story), and then the final chorus is her with her enhanced mutation (really driving home the "poison/venom" themes there)

Ophelia: Heartbreaker by Pat Benatar. I'd definitely go with a stylized fight scene for her, probably the fight against Charybdis since that's her biggest fight scene. I'm sure there are other songs that would fit her, but... idk man, Heartbreaker is just permanently linked to Ophelia in my mind, I really need a fight scene set to that for her.

Gia: Absolute Lithops Effect by the Mountain Goats. I'm imagining it starting with Gia fresh out of HYDRA, limping on an old and unfitting prosthetic and opening up this rundown and boarded-up shop in Hell's Kitchen. Gradually we see the green come into her life again: she cleans up her shop and paints it in bright colors, flowers bloom, her clover thrives across the back wall of her shop, she gets a new prosthetic and bright tattoos slowly gather on her skin as she rebuilds her life.

Jasper: Falling Away With You by Muse. I already used it for a Heartstrings chapter, but it could also work as this quieter, emotional piece for an animatic. With the lyrics, and the way it switches between these softer verses and a more intense chorus, I could see a series of flashbacks between the soft, lighthearted start to their relationship with Kyle, and then the angsty journey to recovery and readjustment after he dies and is brought back.

Kestrel: This is another one you recommended, but Daffodil by Florence + The Machine. I could see a lot of nature imagery, and a lot of Kestrel's transformations into various different animals. I don't have a particular story in mind, just a cool showcase of Kestrel as a character.

Katherine: The Lion's Roar by First Aid Kit! I can see Katherine wandering through the desert, with golden magic twining around her hands like ribbons, until this mirage appears ahead of her: at first it wavers, then solidifies into a silhouette of a lion, then splits again into two figures walking towards her - Bastet and Sekhmet. They greet her like family members, maybe pull her into a hug or something, then disappear back into the desert.

Quinn: Breakdown by Icon for Hire. I could see this as a past/present thing, where the first half of the video is her before the accident, running and parkouring with her first crew - and then the music cuts off, utter silence, black and white as she falls and hits the ground. The silence lingers for a few long moments.... and then we're back to the song, full color and vibrancy again, with her post-accident still slipping through the crowds and picking pockets.

Eris: Guillotine Dreams by KiNG MALA for sure!! I want to see Eris fighting like an animal, covered in blood but laughing through the whole way, just causing absolute havoc. I just... I want to see them being an utter riot!!

Nikoletta: I still love Whispers by Halsey for her (thanks again for the rec!) and I think that the tone of it really suits her. I think it would be a very stark animatic, a lot of Nikoletta sitting alone in these dark rooms, a lot of black and white with very few details around her (as an echo of her feeling isolated both internally and externally). Either it could just stay there and be an angst piece, or there could be the gradual addition of colors as she bonds with the Squad - yellow for Rick, red for Harley, eventually a whole myriad of colors for Abner.

Jimmy: Hemorrhage (in my Hands) by Fuel. I'm imagining it starting out pretty angsty... Jimmy's lost kiss, him getting shot in the chest and watching the blood spray out into his hands, him waking up as a ghost and wandering Coney Island, and then... right at the end of the song, while he's on his knees and trying desperately to catch the blood spilling out... we see a figure step in and offer him a hand up, and the blood flow begins to slow.

Prometheus: I know I don't usually include them in the lineup, but... I wrote a whole fic about their transformation from a nightmare into a dream, and it's based on The Calling by the Amazing Devil. I would kill to see that whole transformation sequence set to the song.

#my friends!!!#answered asks #my ocs #jasper wilson #ophelia octavius #oc quinn/aces #madison douglas #oc kestrel #rae mckinney #robin cassidy #oc prometheus #gia pantazis #oc katherine johnson #oc eris #nikoletta bordeaux #jimmy luciano

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