#disciples II

[blood-starved-beast]

Something I haven't thought about much since the Technical Test but occurs to me now a month later is how I initially assumed Eris was working like vigilante style with the Chronos fight. It seems strange but it was based only on the dialogue between Hecate and Nemesis where she tells Nem that if she doesn't like her job she can do whatever Eris is doing. Which makes me think.

That's such an interesting line from Hecate. Cause when we meet Eris for real in the game, she is doing everything in her power to stop Melinoe. It's the complete opposite of that erroneous impression. Unless, it's not completely wrong.

Eris's whole deal, as is in the mythology, is that she wants to keep conflict ongoing as much as possible. She thrives on strife, and never picks a side but instead baits all involved to fan the flames. She's on everyone's side and at the same time, no one's. That likely carries over to Hades 2.

So what was Eris doing when she was gone from the Crossroads? It's entirely possible she was fighting Chronos forces, if only to cause more strife and prevent him from re-establishing his Golden Age. Cause then the Strife would actually end and a new order is established (which she hates). She only stops cause Melinoe becomes a larger threat to that Strife and decides that she needs to tip the scales in the opposite direction.

Alternatively, she was baiting whatever was attacking Olympus. There's a convo where she mentions that things were finally getting interesting, after all. Which coincides with Melinoe going to the surface to stop the attack there. Granted, this doesn't necessarily negate the earlier theory. The attack could've easily happened as Eris was "helping" the Unseen with Chronos's forces.

Either way, if Eris was "helping" the Unseen at that moment, it sort of makes sense why she's regarded the way she is in the Crossroads. Treated as an annoyance despite actively preventing Melinoe from achieving her goal. Cause much like her keepsake, Eris is a "tool" that can be beneficial with a high risk. If the conflict is tipped against you to the point that your opponent might win, Eris would likely aid you. But if the reverse is true, then she'd be againist. Very risky, not an ally in the true sense, but can be useful in certain circumstances, which a tactician such as Odysseus might consider.

[who-do-i-know-this-man]

⚠️Vote for whomever YOU DO NOT KNOW⚠️‼️

[ctcaptaincorgi]

Ok, so I JUST finished my first playthrough of KOTOR 2. I played light side female. And we gotta talk. First, I actually gasped when I saw Carth and Bastila talking about Revan because I remember seeing a recording of Bastila that was meant for Revan, but that's only after I got enough influence with T3-M4 so I thought I'd never see her again. So I was VERY happy to see her without having to pry that information from T3's cold dead hands.

I found that a lot of the stuff that set up Revan to be gone for 300+ years, seemed to have been seeded in this dear game. I will say, one thing I hate about playing KOTOR 2 is the very depressing thought that in less than a year after the end of the game, the exile is going to die trying to save Revan. I like happy endings, and that's always denied from the main characters. So to cope, because I'm already needing a new desk top wallpaper anyway, I'm drawing a little scene of Revan and Meetra with some of their companions being happy after successfully killing Vitiate's current body. Scourge can see whatever visions of the Hero of Tython killing the Emperor all he likes, but I seriously need the KOTOR protagonists to have happier endings. Like, Revan can be captured for 5-6ish years no problem for the angst. But I need him coming back to Coruscant to be a dedicated Jedi, husband to Bastila, and father to Vaner. I need that so badly. Also, a thought occured to me. Revan doesn't have his own last name, because the last name that got passed down through the family, is Shan (e.g. Satele Shan and Theron Shan). So... Is Revan's current legal name Revan Shan? That's my head cannon.

ANYWAY, I honestly liked a lot that Nihilus doesn't really... Speak at all. The sounds that comes from him are almost that of an Eldritch horror because of how otherworldly they are. It really sells to me that he truly isn't human anymore. He is ONLY his hunger power. And prior to facing Nihilus, I let Visas meditate, which I didn't realize could've impacted the fight and her ultimate fate until I got the pop up to tell me I got LS points and that she has come to terms with the death of her world and likely some of the survivor's guilt and hatred towards Nihilus. I really wonder what would've happened if I said no. Welp, something to try out next time.

Those beasts on Malachor were freaky. I don't have much else to say, but I needed to say that. I'll be real, I had heard years ago that Sion was in love with the female exile, and while playing I was kinda like, "I don't know what kind of death sticks those people were smoking to get this mass delusion" but then, I was talking to him before facing Traya. And yeah, he was at least attracted to her. He still tried to kill me to spare me from getting broken by Traya. But y'all didn't contour that idea from nowhere.

Also, Atris used my character as bait to lure out the sith. Yay... Atris is honestly interesting in this respect. She hates the sith so much, that she justified her feelings and learning about them to stop them so much that she became like the very thing she despised. I still don't like her, but it's interesting.

Also, Kreia's line about falling really hits hard. "It's a quiet thing to fall..." But I truly love the reasoning behind Kreia's Darth name being so literal. I remember having a conversation with my brother about how most sith names seem to be a negative word and then remove or add a few letters. He asked for examples so I was like, "Plagueis = plague, Sidious = insidious, Nihilus = nihilation, Traya = betrayal" I honestly thought it was a bit silly for a sith Lord to want to destroy the source of her power, but her reason for hating the force is such a sithy reason because she hates that the force seems to have a will of its own and tries to control others. Being a sith is about assorting control and with the ultimate goal of never being the one controlled. So from the sith's perspective, it actually makes a bit of sense.

I decided to ask Traya before she died about what would happen to the various worlds I visited and my companions. I WAS RIGHT ABOUT THE MANDALORE BEING CANDEROUS ORDO. In this run I at least attempted to get everyone on the Jedi train, so they're the lost Jedi that were alluded to earlier in the game. She was able to tell me pretty much about all of them (Mira, Visas, and the Disciple) but when I asked about Atton she was like, "That idiot? The force will favor him as it does with all fools." And I saw the option to ask if Atton loves the exile and Traya's like "Stupid is as stupid does". She for real spent her final moments prophesizing about the long lives of my other companions and that they'll lead happy, better lives for having known the exile, and then is just dissing Atton. Like I might for real make something about this because it was just so funny to think about.

So for my next playthrough of this game, I'm moving on to the restored content modded version. Because I couldn't take it sometimes with the regular switch version.

[imjustabitodd]

Tbh I lowk love giving my yandere OCS on why they're Yan towards you. Like the Yan desciblpe because you took him off the street when he younger. Or or or yandere moon god, Noctis. Because you're the reincarnation of his previous lover (a water deity. This dude has been stuck in my head) like I love doing that. Or for the Yan fae because you asked for HIS name. (I heard asking a fae their name in return is basically a wedding proposal. Although it's been a long time since I got into fae lore so I have sorta forgotten)

[agirlinsearchof]

I wonder something...

So I heard the "romances" in KOTOR II really only amount to your party members flirting with you or picking fights over you, without much indication on the Exile's part if they feel the same way or not.

Part of me thinks that the Exile simply doesn't feel that way towards any of them (and that they might be ace). But another part of me is wondering if they are fully aware, but they decide that pursuing any of them might bring more harm than good (especially in the Restored Content Mod, wherein Atton and Handmaiden can become murderous under the wrong circumstances).

Even putting aside a certain Lord of Betrayal, I can see how conflicts of interest may arise in such circumstances, even if there's no formal chain of command involved.

And if they're on the dark side, I can see how a more manipulative Exile might find it useful to string along anyone who develops feelings for them...

[aeskanera]

Star Wars fancast: Brad Pitt as Mical the Disciple

[novabun-ships]

Thankfully this pc can play my all time fave strategy game!

New game of the undead horde lets gooo~~~~!!!!!!

[ohproserpine]

ii. deer dolly

part i | part ii | more | ao3

tags: fem! reader, reader is a performer in a speakeasy, human! possibly ooc! alastor so he's a bit more "tame" here, unsettling & obsessive behavior, jealousy, possessiveness, written before episode 7; may become inaccurate, unwanted advances (not by alastor), murder, graphic descriptions of injuries

As the days unfolded into weeks, Alastor remained true to his word. A routine soon formed between the two of you: he would make regular visits to the speakeasy, engage in polite conversations with Mimzy, and take his usual seat to enjoy your performance.

In time, Alastor's interactions with you grew more intimate. And one night, following the success of one of your busiest night and biggest show, he surprised you with a beautiful necklace. Pulling you into your dressing room, Alastor asked for permission to formally court you. Without hesitation, you agreed, and in a burst of affection, proceeded to kiss him within an inch of your life. 

Since then, Alastor had begun to take you on dates outside the speakeasy. He whisked you away to quaint diners, lively jazz joints, and even introduced you to his mother—a sweet woman who welcomed you with open arms.

Throughout your time together, not a single one of your performances escaped Alastor'. Why would they? For him, your shows were the very essence of color in his otherwise dull and monotonous existence. His devotion to you almost mirrored religious fervor as he attended each of your shows like an impassioned disciple in the dimly lit speakeasy pews.

Your voice became a spell, luring Alastor like a foolish sailor drawn to a siren's call. In those moments, the world faded away, and he followed the melody with an irresistible pull, captivated by thoughts of you, you, you.

Only you.

Tonight, however, was anything but ordinary.

Alastor, following his usual routine, occupied his customary spot at the pub, savoring his whiskey with slow sips from his glass. However, the comforting rhythm of the night, which he had grown used to, was broken when the band screeched to a halt, the shrill notes of the violin cutting through the air. Immediately, the pub erupted in a chorus of boos and shouts.

Alastor blinked, his smile turning strained as he noticed a man stumble onto the stage. It was clear that he was intoxicated, moving about as gracefully as a headless chicken, as he made his way towards you, nearly knocking you off your feet.

Noticing the commotion, Mimzy clicked her tongue, slammed her drink onto the counter, and swiftly rose to her feet. She rushed to the stage, the glitters on her vibrant dress catching the dim lights of the speakeasy.

“Why, I oughta—" she began to seethe, as she stomped towards the stage, finger wagging in the air. “That’s the fifth time this week, Giovanni!”

"Ah, Mimzy! Jus' wanted to surprise my sweetheart," Giovanni slurred, his thick accent muddled as he clumsily leaned into you, head tucking into your neck.

Snap.

Alastor felt a visceral reaction, something within him snapping as the glass in his hand cracked under the strain of his grip. The fractured crevices dug into his skin, and golden liquor seeped out, mixing with crimson red blood.

As a regular performer at this pub, your popularity was unquestionable, and Alastor was not entirely pleased with the attention you garnered from other men. If given the opportunity, he would have you whisked away from this place. In his eyes, your voice was too lovely for a place like this. Your talent deserved a grander stage than the confines of this tacky establishment.

“Ahah,” you smiled awkwardly, shuffling away and shrugging the man's arms off of you. “Not your sweetheart, Giovanni…”

"Are you not happy to see me, carina?" Giovanni’s voice dropped to a whisper, his hand dropping to grip you by the waist. He leaned his face in closer, and you cringed. The man's breath reeked of alcohol, and his eyes were a bloodshot red. “Come on~ I came all the way to see you.”

“Ya' can go see and do whatevah the fuck you want with her after the show!” Mimzy scowled, stomping her heels onto the wooden flooring. “Can't have a moment of peace in here. Someone get him off my stage!”

"I'll do whatever the fuck I want!" Giovanni retorted, his anger bubbling over as he lashed out, kicking the microphone stand in Mimzy's direction. She barely dodged in time, the crash of the mic hitting the floor drowned out by the screeching feedback.

"Please. Just go," you pleaded, your patience wearing thin. "Why? Why do you always have to make a scene?"

"Ay, carina, don't get bratty with me. Let's talk in the back," Giovanni insisted, his grip on your shoulders tightening as he attempted to pull you off the stage. But before he could, Mimzy's guards intervened, forcefully yanking him away.

"Hey! Get ya' hands off'a me!"

Turning around, you rushed to get off the stage, but Giovanni somehow managed to break free and extended his hand, trying to grab onto you. Panic welled up within you as his hand reached out, but relief followed when he was abruptly stopped by none other than Alastor.

"Now, now," Alastor's voice had a lilt as he held onto Giovanni's wrist, but the venom woven into each word was unmistakable. His ever-present smile stretched wide, serving as a clear warning. "Causing a commotion isn't the best way to impress a lady."

"This ain't none of ya’ business. Let go’a me!" Giovanni scowled, attempting to wring his hand out of the brunette's iron grip. Alastor merely chuckled and adjusted his glasses with his free hand, the unsettling grin still playing on his lips throughout the exchange.

"This ain't none of ya’ business. Let go’a me!" Giovanni scowled, attempting to wriggle his hand out of the brunette's iron grip. Alastor merely chuckled, adjusting his glasses with his free hand, the unsettling grin still playing on his lips throughout the exchange.

"Ha ha! Kind sir, when someone disrupts a delightful performance, it becomes everyone's business," Alastor laughed, the sound of it tinged with sarcasm.

"But I must commend you. My, that impromptu performance of yours was quite remarkable; you truly made a wonderful spectacle of yourself!" Alastor's grin widened, his mocking tone drawing out laughter from the crowd.

Then, Alastor bent down to meet Giovanni face to face, his amusement fading. 

“Though I think you've overstayed your welcome, no?” Alastor's grip tightened around Giovanni's wrist, the pressure leaving bruises in its wake, hues of purple, green, and blue blossoming beneath the skin.

Alastor's grin turned sharp. "You will leave. Now."

"F-Fuck are you gonna do if I don’t, aye?" Giovanni spat, attempting to maintain a façade of bravado despite the pain. He tore his hand away from Alastor's grip, cradling his wrist. "Ya' think you can tell me what to fucking do?!"

"Hmm. I would at least advise you to salvage whatever dignity you have left and leave. If you had even a dust of intelligence in that hollow head of yours, that would have been the first thing you'd have done," Alastor chuckled.

“Damn right. Ya ain't got no fuckin place in my establishment,” Mimzy scowled, snapping her fingers and gesturing towards the men surrounding Giovanni. “Take him away, boys!”

As Mimzy’s goons surrounded him again, Giovanni sneered, "This ain't over."

"Oh, my dear pal, I assure you, it is very much over. The lady has made her wishes very clear," Alastor grinned.

With a final snarl, Giovanni was forcibly led away from the scene, his protests fading into the background as Mimzy's guards escorted him out. Mimzy wasted no time, bustling backstage and barking orders to her staff to clean up and prepare the stage once more.

Alastor's charismatic facade returned as he turned to you, though a glint of irritation lingered in his eyes. "Apologies you had to see that, cher. Let's hope the rest of the evening proceeds much more smoothly."

"I hope so." With a sigh, your gaze shifted downward, and you spotted his injured hands. The glass he had broken earlier had left wounds all over his calloused palms — not deep, but enough to draw blood.

Concern etched across your face, and you gently touched Alastor's hands. The radio host, accustomed to your touch by now, allowed you to inspect the damage.

"You're hurt," you pointed out, caressing his skin.

Alastor met your gaze with a reassuring smile. "Ah, this is just a trifle. A mere inconvenience, I assure you! My, I've endured far worse during hunting, darling! This is hardly worth mentioning."

"But—" you began, only to be interrupted by his finger pushing against your red lips.

"Worry not, cher. I'll take care of it. There's no need to play nurse," he spoke with finality, as if this was a matter not open to further argument.

"Alright," You managed a small smile. "I am really sorry things turned out this way, Al. I didn't know Giovanni was going to show up again. He's always been like that for as long as I can remember. I told him to stop but he never does."

"No need for apologies. None of this fault is on you, darling. Though it does add a touch of excitement to otherwise mundane affairs, doesn't it?" Alastor chuckled heartily, though you sensed there was a bitter undertone to his laugh.

"Excitement? That man is a shitshow just waiting to happen," Mimzy returned and walked up to both of you, rolling her eyes. "And I thought I got rid of him for good..."

Suddenly, she leaned in with cosmetics in hand, deftly swiping lipstick across your lips and delicately brushing blush on your face. "Now come on, dollface, let's get you back to that stage."

You realize you're still on shift, but the thought of performing feels nearly impossible at the moment, especially with all this lingering adrenaline in your system. Admittedly, you're a bit shaken up, and all you want is to curl up by Alastor's side and savor the night with a drink in hand. 

"Oh, Mimzy…I'm not sure I can really perform right now, love. I feel…" you slowly trailed off, faltering under the weight of Mimzy's hardened gaze.

The blonde cooed out your name, her fingers gently wrapping around your arm, soothingly rubbing it up and down. "Dollface, you're not here to question; you're here to perform! Alastor here has been so kind to get rid of your little problem. Now, let's get back up on that stage and do what you're good at."

"Pardon?" Alastor snapped with a raised brow, his usually jovial tone replaced by a sharper edge. "Well, I don't mind in the least. In fact, I rather enjoyed putting that simpleton in his place. I'm sure your patrons can afford to wait, can't they? This poor dear is still shaking in her heels!"

But you intervened, mustering a smile and smoothing down the wrinkles on your dress while nervously tending to your hair. "Oh no, Al, it's alright. Mimzy's right. I can't just let one man ruin my entire night."

With a deep breath, you steeled yourself, taking a moment to compose before adding, "Besides, the show must go on, right?"

Alastor paused, his eyes narrowing as he studied your nervous tics. The radio host silently appraised your form for a few more seconds before eventually giving in. "Hmm, very well. If that's what you wish."

"Thank you, Al," you whispered with a smile, tilting your head up to press a kiss against his cheek. Your lipstick had left an imprint on his bronze skin, but he made no move to wipe it off.

With a chuckle, Alastor leaned back into you and returned the gesture warmly. 

"I'll take care of everything, doll," he whispered, voice low, before pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. "He won't ever bother you again."

Confused, you blinked up at him with those bright eyes he loved so much. "How do you plan to do that, Al?" you asked, but he ignored you, staring at you with that unsettling look in his eyes again.

Alastor suddenly raised your hand to his lips, brushing the knuckles with gentle pecks, causing your mind to blank and cheeks to go aflame. 

Tapping her foot impatiently, Mimzy's irritation grew as the display of affection lingered longer than she deemed appropriate. With a swift swat of her hand against the man's shoulder, she hissed at him. "That's enough outta you!"

Alastor smirked to himself and began walking back, seemingly satisfied with the subtle disturbance he had caused. He was such a bastard, but he was yours.

With a shake of your head and a smitten blush gracing your cheeks, you returned to the stage. The blinding spotlight enveloped you as Mimzy tossed the microphone back into your waiting hands. 

Meanwhile, Alastor reclined in his seat at the booth, his gaze fixed intently on you as you resumed your performance. The audience, having brushed off the brief interruption, eagerly redirected their focus to you.

Rabbit, rabbit! Won't you run away? Don't give the farmer all his fun today~ He'll get by without his rabbit pie. So run rabbit, run rabbit, run, run, run!

As you neared the end of the song, Alastor joined the crowd's applause, rhythmically snapping his fingers together.

Wonderful, as always.

.

Snap.

The sudden, jarring sound shattered the stillness of the forest, followed by a shrill scream that seemed to shake the trees. Giovanni's hands instinctively shot down to his ankle, where his bone had twisted in a gruesome sight that sent bile rushing to his throat. However, he had no time to inspect the damages as a rustling bush caught his attention. Desperately, the man began crawling on the ground, doing his best to move farther away, dragging mud and dirt all over his body.

"Don't give the farmer his fun. Fun. Fun," emerging from thick shrubs, Alastor sang lowly as he continued his slow advance, relishing in the fear that emanated from his prey. He raised his hand, fingers idly tracing over the red mark on your lips, and if he focused hard enough, he could still feel the burn of your affections. "He'll get by without his rabbit pie."

The dense forest around them seemed to close in, casting eerie shadows as Alastor's menacing silhouette moved closer. Giovanni, now gasping for breath, cast terrified glances over his shoulder, desperately searching for an escape route.

"So run rabbit, run rabbit, run, run, run," Alastor continued to trail after the man, his axe slung over his strong shoulders, a sinister grin etched on his lips.

Ah, it had been so long since he last pursued larger prey, opting for smaller catches like rabbits and squirrels lately. This, however, was a different kind of pursuit, and the thrill was delicious.

“It's rather unsavory to disrupt a live performance,” Alastor mused, gripping his axe and running his bandaged palm along the side of the blade. "Oh, the misery! Each performance interrupted, a masterpiece marred!"

“Though I suppose you redeemed yourself with your own impromptu circus show,” Alastor snickered, reaching down and seizing Giovanni’s sprained ankle, dragging the screaming man back toward him.

"Good show!" The radio host grinned as he pressed his feet against Giovanni's back to prevent him from escaping. Alastor raised the axe high, the glint of the blade reflecting the crazed gleam in his eyes.

"Now, let's see how this act ends."

With a practiced swing, he brought the blade down, chunks of flesh and blood spraying onto his clothing and skin from the impact. Alastor laughed as the light gradually faded from the man's eyes, his once-struggling arms and legs now falling limp.

“What a show!”

[pascaloverx]

STARVE

Summary: You lost your husband some time ago while he served as a gladiator for Emperors Geta and Caracalla. General Acacius saved you from becoming an object of pleasure for the emperors. Since then, he has taken you as his mistress. In your free time, you became a disciple of Ravi, the healer, dedicating yourself to tending to wounded gladiators. All seemed to be in perfect harmony until Hanno, a gladiator driven by a thirst for vengeance, crossed your path.

Author's Note: And the gods said: Starve will be a multi-chapter fanfiction (I hope readers will follow it all the way through). Without further ado, the characters belong to Ridley Scott's Gladiator II universe, though there will be significant deviations from the film. Historical accuracy regarding life in the Roman Empire may not always be strictly observed, so I hope you can overlook that. Yes, this story revolves around a love triangle, but I will strive to satisfy everyone. This fanfiction will include adult content, violence, and potentially coarse language. Enjoy!

preview two

ONE

A starry night, as though the gods themselves had blessed the heavens. You stand in the place where you often meet General Acacius to maintain appearances. He will spend the day attending to Emperors Geta and Caracalla alongside his wife, Lucilla. Meanwhile, your day will revolve around the gladiators—or, more precisely, their wounds. You have been summoned to tend to the gladiators who will participate in that day's opening of the games—battles they will wage against one another or against beasts. Your thoughts are divided between Marcus Acacius and Hanno, the gladiator you strongly suspect harbors intentions of avenging his wife’s death at Acacius's hands.

"Mea domina, you are here," General Acacius murmurs as he approaches, though his complexion appears unusually pale. He is dressed in a tunic that conceals most of his body, with a laurel crown adorning his head. The lateness of the hour and the absence of natural light obscure your view, but as he draws nearer, you notice a wound bleeding on his arm. You rush toward him, your concern overcoming any formality. Without hesitation, you expose the area of his injury, removing the fabric to inspect it. His skin is feverishly warm beneath your touch.

"Who did this to you, Acacius?" you ask, a wave of anger surging through your body, mingling with an overwhelming sense of concern. "By the Gods, you should have come to me sooner," you say, your voice laced with frustration as your fingers graze his fevered skin, causing him to shiver under your touch. You guide him to a nearby bench, urging him to rest. Knowing him well, you suspect he has concealed his injury from everyone, unwilling to reveal any vulnerability. Fortunately, all are accustomed to you tending to him—it is, after all, one of your roles as his lover.

"I did not wish to trouble anyone, least of all you, Y/N," Acacius replies, his tone steady as he attempts to mask his discomfort. "A gladiator loosed an arrow at me—it must have struck me somehow. Macrinus certainly knows how to select skilled men for his arena." His voice retains its commanding timbre, though his actions betray his weariness. He pulls you closer by the waist, resting his head against your abdomen, as though seeking solace in your presence.

"General, we must go to the place where Ravi keeps his instruments. I must tend to your wounds and return you, whole and well, to your wife," you say, holding Acacius' face in your hands, as if willing him to remain conscious. His deep brown eyes meet yours, their gaze uncharacteristically tender.

"But this is my time with you," he whispers, taking your hands in his and pressing a kiss to each. "And I have told you, you need not address me as General. Our relationship has long surpassed formalities," he says, his voice softer now as he finishes kissing your hands. A fleeting thought tempts you to lean down and kiss him, but before you can act, the sound of approaching footsteps interrupts. Guards arrive, accompanied by Lucilla and Ravi. You instinctively want to withdraw from Acacius, but his unconscious state forces you to hold him upright.

"Take my husband to his quarters. Ravi is here to see to his treatment," Lucilla commands, her tone dismissive, her gaze avoiding yours entirely. The guards comply, carrying the now-limp Acacius away.

"Y/N," Lucilla addresses you, her voice sharp and deliberate, "from this moment forward, Ravi will be responsible for Acacius' care. I trust the gladiators will suffice to occupy your attention." Her words, though polite in form, carry an unmistakable message: your role as Acacius' lover is nearing its end. Vulnerability washes over you, but you lower your head in acknowledgment, as if understanding her decree. Without another glance, she follows the guards to accompany her husband.

Ravi approaches, carrying his instruments and tools. "I need you to go to Macrinus' gladiator and tend to his wounds. Macrinus has already informed the guards of his gladiator's need for treatment, so you need not fear," Ravi instructs, already preparing to attend to Acacius himself. Fear is far from your mind. The only sentiment stirring within you is anger, directed at the one who dared harm Acacius. You nod in silent agreement and gather the necessary supplies to treat the gladiator, your resolve firm as you set out to fulfill your task.

The guards grant you entry without hesitation, their expressions indifferent. Inside the dimly lit cell, you find Hanno—his body marred by fresh wounds, his face pale but defiant. He appears battered, as though every ounce of strength has been drained from him. Anticipating the state you might find him in, you came prepared with tools to clean his wounds, at least superficially.

"The lovely healer graces me with her presence once more," Hanno mutters, his tone laced with a mix of sarcasm and faint amusement. A strained smile flickers across his lips as he clutches his abdomen, evidently in pain. "I suppose you're here to finish what the guards so generously began." His voice is hoarse and weakened, yet it retains a biting edge.

A chill runs through you as you step closer to him, fully entering his cell. The air feels heavier here, and his piercing gaze follows your every move. "They must have hurt you for what you did to General Acacius," you state, your voice measured as you kneel, setting down your tools. The mention of Acacius draws no sign of remorse from Hanno; instead, he seems emboldened, inching himself nearer to you with deliberate subtlety. As you settle beside him, his proximity becomes undeniable, his rugged presence filling the confined space. Though weakened, there’s an unsettling calm in his demeanor, as though he is testing you, seeking something unspoken within your resolve.

As you begin to cleanse his wounds, the facade of the formidable gladiator crumbles beneath the weight of his pain. Low, anguished groans escape his lips despite his efforts to suppress them. It becomes clear that he is suffering deeply, though he clings to the last vestiges of his pride.

"Ah, here we are again," Hanno murmurs between strained breaths, his voice laced with an uneven mixture of sarcasm and torment. "You, seizing the opportunity to inflict more pain under the guise of tending my wounds, and I, striving to focus on your beauty to mask just how much it hurts."

A flicker of anger rises within you, mingled with a reluctant pity for the state of his battered body. "Flattery will not grant you any special treatment," you reply sharply, leaning in closer to examine his injuries more thoroughly. "I warned you not to harm Acacius dishonorably. I thought you might exercise restraint, but I was mistaken."

With deft movements, you remove the upper portion of his tattered garment to gain better access to the worst of his injuries. He offers no resistance, watching you with an unsettling mix of amusement and interest, as if savoring the attention. "I do recall saying I would take your request under consideration," Hanno says nonchalantly, as though the matter were trivial.

Frustrated by his flippant attitude, you press a tender wound more firmly than necessary. He lets out a guttural cry of pain, his composure faltering for a moment. "Forgive me," you say with a mocking smile, your tone cold. "I must have forgotten to take your suffering under consideration."

He meets your gaze, a faint, knowing grin curling his lips as if he derives some twisted pleasure from your defiance. "If you wish to exact vengeance, then take the dagger you’ve hidden and drive it into my heart," he says, his voice low and steady, despite the evident strain. "It is the only way to shield your precious General Acacius from my wrath." Hanno leans closer, his piercing blue eyes locking onto yours, the proximity of his battered form unsettling. His observation of the concealed blade leaves you momentarily stunned, your grip tightening as the tension between you hangs heavy in the air.

"Is that what you believe I should do—kill you?" you ask, a faint trace of amusement in your tone as you marvel at Hanno's audacity. He leans closer to your face, his gaze sharp and provocative.

"If protecting him is your goal, then yes," Hanno replies, his voice steady, his eyes fixed upon yours with an intensity that borders on insolence.

You smile, intrigued by how easily he speaks of his own demise. "General Acacius is a wise and seasoned warrior. He will know how to deal with you," you say, leaning in as if accepting the challenge his very presence seems to demand.

"If you think I seek an honorable battle with Acacius solely to shield him," you continue, your voice steady and measured, "then you are gravely mistaken. Look at yourself, gladiator. To achieve vengeance, it is not merely strength or skill you require. A true fighter knows which battles are worth fighting." Your hand moves deftly to clean a wound near his neck, blood still seeping from it. He winces slightly but does not pull away, his sharp blue eyes never leaving your face.

"The way you speak, it seems as though you've developed an affection for me, healer," Hanno remarks, his tone soft but probing. "If that is the case, why carry a dagger?" He gently grasps your arm, his grip firm yet careful, as if urging you to give him your full attention.

"Because the wife of General Acacius made it clear before the guards that I will no longer tend to his care. For many of the men here, that declaration is as good as an invitation to see me as their sport," you reply, your gaze unwavering as you meet his eyes.

For a moment, something shifts in his expression—a flicker of understanding crossing his features. "I see," he murmurs, his voice lower now. "Then show me. Show me how you would wield it to defend yourself." Though puzzled by his request, you reach for the dagger and position it as you would in a moment of self-defense, your stance steady and deliberate. His eyes follow your movements with a keen focus, his lips curving into a faint, almost approving smile as he observes your resolve.

"You’re holding it incorrectly," he says, taking your hands, still clutching the dagger, and guiding them to a precise spot on the left side of his chest. "Here. Strike here on any opponent—more than once, if need be—and you’ll increase your chances of survival," he instructs, his voice steady, his grip firm but not overbearing.

You had never considered the necessity of knowing how to fight; before Acacius, your late husband had always been there to shield you. But now, an unsettling vulnerability lingers, heavy and unshakable.

"You place too much trust in me," you murmur, your gaze locked with his. "I could hurt you with this dagger right now."

His lips curl into a faint, genuine smile, weak but without hesitation. "Honestly, I wouldn’t mind if you did," Hanno replies, the tension between you thickening.

You drop the dagger back to its place, snapping yourself out of the moment. "Turn around. I need to apply an herbal salve to the wound on your back so I can retire to my quarters. It has been a long day," you instruct, watching as he complies without protest. His physique, sculpted as one would expect of a gladiator, does not escape your notice. But before your thoughts can wander too far, you refocus, applying the salve with care. He grunts softly at the touch, his pain audible but restrained.

"I could teach you how to defend yourself," Hanno murmurs as you finish tending to his wounds. Once done, he turns to face you, his expression expectant.

"Are you certain you wish to help me, knowing my loyalty lies with General Acacius?" you ask, genuine curiosity laced in your tone.

He lifts a hand to your face, his touch gentle as he caresses your cheek. "Something tells me you need help, and I want to offer it. General Acacius or not, this is about you," he emphasizes, pointing at you, "and me," he finishes, gesturing to himself.

You hesitate, uncertainty flickering in your eyes, but the sincerity in his gaze stirs something within you. Perhaps it would be wise to accept his offer. "Very well, gladiator," you reply, taking the hand that had touched your face and grazing it softly with your fingertips. "Teach me what you know, and I promise to mend you each time you require it."

[blood-starved-beast]

thinking about Eris actually being a former disciple of Hecate before leaving I wonder what was up with that? She doesn't like or respect Nyx per what she claims but also. Isn't the point of the Unseen a sort of secret cult of Nyx to restore her and the House back to the way things were? On principle, Eris would reject that you'd think.

No, I what I think is that despite claiming to hate Nyx so much, I do think, deep down, Eris does crave her love. Otherwise, why would she be so upset at Nyx for making her who she is? Why would she care? Maybe joining the Unseen would make Nyx notice her/not ignore her in her mind. But as the Unseen required her to give up her freedoms/Hecate wasn't approving or acknowledging her pranks or tricks and silence-warded her, she decided to leave. Cause it wasn't worth it in her mind.

[ihave3verything]

During the day you are a journalist, but at night you record your voice for the enjoyment of anyone in need of some 'nightly help'. When a piece about the band Ghost and it's ministry brings you to Copia's world, he suffers. You are his favorite content maker of the voice and ASMR kind, and now you are there for who knows how long. Speaking to him in your lovely voice.

18+. MDNI

AO3 Chapters: I || Characters: F!Reader, Original Female and Male Character(s) Papa Emeritus IV Copia, Papa Emeritus The I Primo, Papa Emeritus the II Secondo, Papa Emeritus Emeritus III Terzo, Papa Emeritus 0 Nihil, Sister Imperator, Ghoulette(s), Ghoul(s), all is listed and updated on AO3 as we go along Pairings: Reader/Copia, Reader/Ghouls, Copia/Ghouls, OC/Primo, Terzo/Omega, Nihil/Sister Imperator, Fic Contents in general (Will be updated): Meet-Cute, Fluff, Smut, humor, Mutual Pining, Teasing, Sub!Copia, Needy!Copia, Switch!Copia, Voice Kink, praise kink, porn watching/listening, Journalism, Older Man/Younger Woman, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, masturbation, all is listed and updated on AO3 as we go along

Current Chapter Contents: Meet-Cute, pining, flirting, suggestive dialogue, Content: 3.5k words Author's Notes: Hello, I haven't posted a fic on tumblr for a long while now, but especially like this. It was usually just between me and friends so there wasn't much to put before the fic itself lol But there are a lot of fans here who may not be perusing AO3, so I thought I'd post this here :) DEFINITELY since I removed all my Tumblr links and any social media ones too with the current climate of the US and AO3 mods warning us too for our safety. But Anyways! Don't expect timely updates, I am busy with work, suffering my usual ADHD, and have many other fics being written on the side (Ghost ones in particular too and a character/reader or two from those WIPs may just make a guest appearance here :)c ). I also am not too sure yet how this whole thing will play out or how long, but we'll see! I hope you all enjoy <3 besitos all around!!

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"Do you know that sister's name?"

"Hmm?"

"The one, over there with her lips painted the dark-red?"

"Mmmm — no, I believe she may be one of the newer followers."

Copia could not tear his eyes off of you even if he wanted to and he stood there in a mix of emotions fighting over what he should take the time to feel first. Amongst the awe and excitement, the two that hit hardest when he first became aware of you was embarrassment and fear. An odd cocktail never felt before in all his years; and to top it all off, he still felt the lust coiling within, tightening between his thighs.

His ghoulette was by his side, all six-inches taller than him and dubbed 'Cirrus' by their fans. As she sipped away at a juice-box, her own masked eyes examined you, curiously trying to find what had obtained her summoner's attention. You were as average as they came for the clergy's disciples. She could see the parts that usually called out to any of the papas: thick hips, plump ass, beautiful smile, and an atmosphere of something dark misted about your form. Many siblings were like that though, something bringing you all to a dark following that was kinder than whatever else the secular world accepted…So what could have her beloved Copia so hypnotized by you? And could she join in first before the other ghouls did?

"Do you know her?" Cirrus gives a gentle nudge to his shoulder, lowering her eyes to him. He looks worse than she thought when he first spoke up. Eyes slightly wide though she knows he is doing his best to keep them from getting any bigger; lips parted, so stunned by just seeing you; and his pale cheeks are dusted red in the way she loves when he gets flustered. Dare she say it, Copia looks like he's just seen the reaper themselves, clad in a tempting form, beckoning him over with the curl of a finger.

With a little shake of his head, Copia licks his lips then presses them together. "No…No, I've never…"

Cirrus doesn't believe him one bit, she can feel it in their bond as Ghoul and Papa, though she won't say so. He looks like he's suffering enough.

Copia can hear the voice from where he stands so far away. He's heard it before and that is enough to make dread fall in the pit of his stomach. It sounds just like it always does, perhaps not as purposeful, yet the same low tone nonetheless. And like a Pavlovian effect he was never aware of being created, he feels a hot rush of pleasure race up his body to make all the small hairs stand-up, then back down to cause a twitch in his pants. You hadn't said anything enticing in the slightest, he had heard your laugh first then something about taxes, nothing else. Regardless, the memories, his fantasies, fill his head all at once and he must force back his cringing.

He knows you voice because he hears it at night when he needs to relax — when he does not have the time or desire to find a night time partner. Constantly he is driven to you, no time wasted as he knows exactly where you are. And when he closes his eyes, enveloped by you soft voice dripping with sex, he succumbs to the provocative words guiding him to sweet release.

Papa Emeritus The Fourth, Copia, knows your voice from the erotic audio you post online and he loves to get off to the most. That is where the embarrassment takes root, not for listening to audio porn, not really for it being your main role in kinky roleplay, but that he's become practically addicted to you. Always waiting for a notification that you've updated. Imagining your voice even when not clicked onto one of your videos, knowing your tone so well he can use it to make new scenarios to get off to in the meantime. Worst, he's found himself daydreaming of meeting you one day and what he'd say or do to make you smile and laugh and possibly go on a simple date with him. He's a big pathetic fan of a women he knew he'd never meet and was content on just supporting with donations to you subscriber account for more of your work.

And you're fucken here, in the same building, wearing the most beautiful pair of trousers that hug your wide, thick hips and blouse that shows off your supple breasts and cleavage; enjoying yourself talking to another man. Not talking to Copia who stands there stupidly with a juice-box in hand like a child. Which is all for the best, because if you came any closer (was right in front of him with all your pretty smiles) he'd probably make an absolute dumbass of himself.

Maybe he's just jinxed himself with that last thought, because you then looking in his direction. Copia's breath stops working, it's caught up in his nose and stays there like he can't remember how to exhale. Then you are bidding the other man goodbye (fucken good) and making your away to Copia (fucken NO), or to be more specific, Cirrus who he now realizes is waving her long arm up in a wave and obviously grinning at you (Fucken DAMN IT). His ghouls mean well, they are his beloved beasts, but they could be so frustrating to handle.

"Cirrus, what the fu —" He hisses lowly, daring a growl to seep into it so Cirrus understands how angry he is with her.

Of course it doesn't do anything, because when you are much closer she begins to greet you. "Hello! Sorry for interrupting, I'm trying to meet all our new members."

You are even worse for Copia up close where he can finally put a detailed face to your voice he knows so well. He's tried to make up an appearance for your voice, a temptress figure lying across a plush bed like Elvira the Mistress of Darkness herself. There are so many versions of this woman, all who commonly have those wide child bearing hips made for tight-fitting jeans, but none of them have stayed for long. They don't fit the voice, the words, the tingling sensations that crawl up his heated body from head to toe.

Now he's found it — you are truly there, and everything clicks into place. Now he's going to have to do his damned hardest not to get off to images of you, even if it is harmless (he's not going to be stupid and act like a delusional fanboy, naturally that won't be the case). Everything would feel too weird, certainly so when he is now going to be (forced) into meeting you face to face; his dick may think otherwise, but the shame is going to be waiting there after when all is over.

"Wonderful! Though, I'm not really a member of your church." You smile shyly up to the ghoulette, the skin around your eyes showing the smallest of wrinkles.

Copia bites the inside of his cheek. You're actually younger than he thought, heard, and imagined. The voice matches the body, yet still lies to anyone passing by (or hearing it while curled up in bed listening). Despite a mom-body and voice, you actually appear to be early 30s at the oldest, and late 20s at the youngest. Nary a cease on your face that is from age, only the lines that tell of how much you may have smiled over your lifetime so far. And that both worries Copia while also excites him; you must have a partner with how young and gorgeous you are; obviously you wouldn't care for someone of his age and looks. For once in his own life, there is a sense of disgust — you are far too young as much as you are a full-grown adult with experience to make your own choices smartly.

Cirrus cants her head a bit. "That must be why you're not in a habit. So why are you here?" It's so bluntly put, Copia wants to pinch her pointed ear for being so rude.

"I'm here to write up an article about you all and the band!" Your grin is so wide and your voice (pits below, you voice) is filled with glee.

"All of us ghouls and Papa?!"

You wiggle your head side to side and squint your eyes. "Well, the siblings and clergy members too, of course. It's so crazy how your church has reached out to the masses via Ghost. Usually other churches are going door to door, or being annoying at bus stops and stuff. Just handing out brochure like they're selling you a time-share or something." The annoyance seeps off your whole body and voice, like you've heard something a million times and are sick of it.

The ghoul joins in, matching the energy as she lifts her head up to the sky. "Absolutely! I'm so happy the whole Ghost project was made! Being summoned to join was the best thing to happen in my existence!"

Your face brightens up at that, scrambling in your pocket while also speaking and looking to the ghoulette. "So you really are summoned from Hell?"

As you quickly scratch away at a small notebook now in your hand, Cirrus begins to hop on the ends of her booted feet. "Yeah! Any high-ranking clergy member can summon beasts from the pits of Hell, but when a Papa does, it's super special! I felt it when the words echoed down below, and when Papa's voice was echoing in my head, I totally let myself relax and be brought up to this plane!"

"So he like… pretty much whispers in your ear — if you had one with a form even then, of course."

"…Not really? It was…Kinda like…" Then the tall air ghoul is turning her eyes to Copia. Their amber color is truly shining, so relaxed and almost longing as she gazes on the man; she knows how it looks, its just like Copia's face was when he was gazing on you a moment ago.

"Singing. Papa was singing to me and only me. Copia has such a bewitching voice, he called for me amongst the crowds of so many others…but he needed an air ghoul, and my essence…"

"I felt you there, my ghoul." Copia doesn't try to stop himself as reverence for his demon pours out of him not only in his words, but the piece of his soul that bonds them together in something like a hug. "All of the others felt so wonderful, but just a brush over your being and I was enraptured. So I focused, then you were — mnnn….well, you were there covered in blood, haha."

Cirrus' fang gleam as she giggles. "You're so sweet papa, you even took your frock off and covered me up despite the blood!"

"You were shivering, cara! As your summoner I had to instantly make sure you were ok and taken care of." He remembers the rush of protectiveness he felt when she was there on the circle of old runes — he had purposefully written them just as he practiced for days before, an intent behind every line. That was how it was with every ghoul he summoned, that need to ensure their new livelihood was safe the moment he saw their bare bodies mucked with thick blood that still shone so brightly. Perhaps he had actually fallen in love with each of them then, those decades old beasts who had lived a deadly life away from the Human realm.

Suddenly Cirrus is speaking again, but facing you who had been standing there frozen with the tip of your pen on the pad of paper. "This is so rude of me! I haven't even introduced you to Papa yet!"

Copia snaps his attention to you and he watches you blink a few times before you give him a small smile. The thought that you may be disappointed now to pay him any thought and are just being polite as Cirrus brings him up, swirls in his head. Why else would you give such an indifferent face. He doesn't blame you: he'd be more interested in such an impressive figure as Cirrus too.

"Papa this is …"

There hadn't been an exchange of names yet, but you don't hesitate to reach out a hand and tell them both yours. Copia only hopes his hand isn't as shaky as he feels — grateful for his gloves that keep his sweaty palms hidden.

"Please, call me Copia — Papa is my father." A fucken joke? A dad joke no less!

But your eyes fall to the ground, hiding away a big smile as you chuckle so sweetly it makes Copia whole body heat up in a flush. "Copia," No, no, no, you've said his name in your perfect voice"that's a unique one, really. It's very nice to meet you." And your hand gives his a quick squeeze, then releases.

"Me too. I mean, to meet you too! Eh, your name its, uhh, very nice too!"

You playfully look like you'd beg to differ, but say nothing and now truly grin. "You're very sweet, Copia. Very nice to little 'ol me."

In a race to keep himself from groaning aloud, he pulls his drink up for what was meant to be a sip, only to become a gulp that he swallows loudly instead; he fails to see to see Cirrus covering her mouth to keep her own laughter at bay. After a few clearings grunts of his throat, he attempts to keep the conversation going.

"I love your lipstick!"

"Aww, thanks! I love the darker colors." You give their plump shape a pucker like you are going in for a kiss.

"Though, they tend to be hard in keeping from staining everything my lips touch." You lick your lips, the tint to them not budging, stained in that dark color despite the long hours the party has gone.

Endless images fill Copia's head, each one of your lips pouting, wrapped around so many things, daring to see them below him. He wonders how they would feel not just there, but on his shoulders, across his chest, around his fingers, pressed on his cheeks, locked with his so deeply he'd be weaing your lipstick for hours after. Having their shape imprinted on every inch of his body to make him look like some lovesick fool.

There is nothing left in his juice-box to cover any reaction he has (especially physically), so in a moment of desperation Copia turns his head away and raises his juice to no one in particular far off. "Oh, excuse me! Someone over there is wanting me to go over! Look, more drinks!"

He looks back at you, finding you looking confused and curious. "I'm sorry to end this conversation so soon, please excuse me! I hope we can talk more another time." Dare he thinks it, dear God does he hope so.

"Of course, I'm sure we will with my —" Before you can continue, Copia is speed walking away with an odd limp in his step. You watch his back disappear in the crowd of so many, lost in the sea of blacks and reds like an enigma.

Cirrus sighs and rolls her eyes. "He's a very busy, you know. Still relatively new to his role now as Papa Emeritus."

"I understand…"

Your voice sounds very much like wistfulness to Cirrus' ears, making her wonder if there is a chance she can meddle a little in things that fill her head now. When she tells the others, they'll definitely feel the same. Its very cute to watch you continue staring where Copia went, how your soft lifts all but pout. Oh, how Cirrus wants in, she wants to have a taste of you…after Copia does, of course, if he would like to (and it seems so). The waiting game is one that any ghoul would be impatient about, but the reward is all worth it.

"You were saying something as he left. You'll be seeing Papa again?"

Nodding and turning back to the ghoul, you come back into the moment. "Yes, I will be setting up interviews with many peeople here — you ghouls included — but Copia mostly. I want to hear about his life before and after his promotion. Pick his brain at a few things and learn more about the clergy."

"It sounds like you know a bit already. Not everyone is aware of how ghouls are summoned."

"Aware is the key word here, until you both told me more right now. I've done some reading beforehand by fellow fans and articles online, skimmed a book or two. That's part of my job as a journalist."

That piques Cirrus' interest. "You are a fan of Ghost?"

A soft blush covers your cheeks, and you bite your bottom lips softly in a smile. Your shyness fills the ghoulette's cursed blood with flames, feeling a desire to chase and capture you in her arms; but just as quickly she covers it up, knowing how fearsome her face will look if you catch it in that moment.

"Yes…Not like a huge, huge fan though! But when the opportunity to do a story about religion came up for the news site I work for, I felt the need to cover your guys' church."

"You are so kind!" Cirrus steps closer. It's the same move she uses when it comes to anyone she finds interest in. Yet, what you do next is absolutely new.

"I've been told that before," your face changes, eyes lidded with something dark and alluring that makes Cirrus' focus zone in solely on you. Not only that, but there's a new timber to your voice, your words, that makes her ears tingle enough, she feels it like a warm blanket over her body. "I'm truly glad I chose you and this church as my topic"

Then you take a step closer as well, and there's little space between either bodies. "I'm grateful I'm here to meet you. You're so much taller than photos and videos would lead someone to believe; and so stunning in person!"

"You didn't choose me specifically, silly. You chose all of Ghost, all the ghouls and Papa." Cirrus can't take her eyes off you — doesn't want you to stop talking.

"True, but still, you are all so skilled and lovely in your own ways. I can't wait to talk to each of you one-on-one. I'll make sure you are comfortable and satisfied with our time together."

And Cirrus has never felt herself so captured. She's the lioness here, the one they joke about keeping behind chains so she doesn't play that ghoulish game of run and seek. And despite that, here she is, feeling so heated and at ease by a mere human who is much shorter and far less powerful than she. This must be whatever has her powerful summoner so uneasy, like he knows what strengths are hidden under that plushy flesh Cirrus now wants to caress and bite at.

If Copia doesn't get his shit together before Cirrus and the others snap, he's going to end up with some seriously sloppy and marked seconds. There could be a chance they'd ruin you for anyone else but their pack.

Cirrus' hair blows up a bit, a spark of her element rising enough it seeps out of her in a small gust. Absolutely embarrassing, though not enough to make her feel an ounce of it.

You grin so widely she fears your face will split in half. Stepping back and combing fingers in you hair to push it back, you put your notebook and pen back in your pocket. "I'm so sorry, uhh —"

"Cirrus, that's what you fans call me. I like it." I'm going to make sure you call it out without realzing it when I get my claws on you.

"Cirrus, like the clouds in the sky. I love it!" You give her a polite nod. "I'm sorry to run off, Cirrus, but I need to talk with Sister Imperator about setting up times for the interviews." You nod over to where the blonde woman stands, arm hooked around Nihil's elbow like a leash to keep him close.

"Of course, don't worry — I can't wait for ours!"

"Wonderful! I'll talk to you later then!"

"You bet!"

You are off with a confident stride in your step. The way your hips sway in those perfect trousers that show off your assets, how your shoes click on the marble floor echoes throughout the building. Cirrus squeezes her juice-box without thinking, and whatever was left is now a puddle on the floor as she watches you walk off. Only one thought stands out from the dozens of new ones.

Copia better hope his fat, perky ass gets interviewed first.

[notmaplemable]

Lightsaber Forms: Team RWBY

Ruby Rose: Primary Form - Form IV Ataru / Secondary Form - Form V Djem So Lightsaber Color: Green

I think this combination fits Ruby's fast and hard hitting combat style the best.

Weiss Schnee: Primary Form - Form II Makashi / Secondary Form - Form IV Ataru Lightsaber Color: Blue

Form II is a natural fit since... it's just Weiss' fighting style. With Form IV as a secondary disciple to fit the dancer part of her style.

Blake Belladonna: Primary Form: Form IV Ataru / Secondary Form - Form VI Niman Lightsaber Color: Undecided - Purple?

Form IV is the obvious choice since Blake's style is very mobility based. I think the versatility of Form VI fits her, though this one is more debatable.

Yang Xiao Long: Primary Form: Form VII Juyo/Vaapad / Secondary Form - Form VI Ataru Lightsaber Color: Blue

Honestly, I think you could make an argument for Form VII or V being more accurate to Yang. She would definitely need to have either since they're both the most aggressive forms. I ended up going for VII since... I think it's cool? Variety? Form IV as a secondary since she is able to keep up with the rest of her team fairly well.

Team RWBY:

Every member has some level of proficiency with Form IV. Though they lack any real defensive specialty outside of Blake's form VI use.

Thoughts?

[xcyaexx]

PBSS! Chung Myung x Reader

[Part I] [Part II]

A/N: Reader is not a disciple of Mount Hua. You're free to imagine any sect/family! Also, I know the pacing is too fast but I haven't written in a long while and neither have I had a proper conversation with anyone since I'm on vacation so the text is a bit stiff :(

Xi'an. Here he was, having a drink like usual, except it wasn't usual. He was halfway through his tenth bottle already and the dizziness had taken over him a long time ago. But he couldn't stop now. Why? Sitting in front of him, equally intoxicated sat a lady disciple from another sect. The room was empty except for the two of them. Now, you may ask how they ended up in this situation, right? For that we'll have to go back a few hours and recall all the incidents that led up to this moment.

ווו×

(Y/N) looked around cautiously, making sure none of her sect siblings were here. There was no way she could let them see her like this! How disgraceful was it to be following around another sects disciple while hiding herself behind every pillar and wall? After taking in one final breath, and reassuring herself that all would be well, for the 100th time that evening, she finally walked up to the Plum Blossom Sword Saint.

"Um hello! I'm (Y/N) a first-grade disciple of (Sect Name) sect!"

Chung Myung turned around at his title being said and furrowed his eyebrows slightly

"Yes?"

In front of him was a girl clad in the uniform of the (sect name) sect. She had a flustered and innocent look to her face as she looked up at him. She looked to be around his age, if not a little older.

"Um uh...!" her eyes shot downwards. She was definitely messing things up, wasn't she? Although she had tried to calm herself down before approaching him, speaking up was still a bit awkward.

"Speak clearly, I've not got enough time. If my sect leader finds out I snuck out again I'll be punished. So don't waste my time, my precious booze is awaiting me," Chung Myung said, irritably.

"Ah? I'm.. I'm sorry. I was asking if the sword saint would be kind enough to spar with me? I wanted to know the sword saints opinion on my form!"

"Sparrrr? What's this now huh. I've not got enough time so get going already, I'm not in the mood to spar today." With that, he started walking away towards the nearest tavern, mumbling some... unusual, to say the least, song about drinking alcohol.

After recovering herself from the initial shock of his straightforward behaviour she spoke up again.

"Um please wait for me! Then... Then if I pay for the bill, will you please fight with me?"

Chung Myung glanced back, "No need, I have enough money with me. Now shoo, I don't want to waste any more time, the only competition I'm interested in now is a good drinking competition."

However, before he could walk away again, (Y/N) rushed toward him, "I'll take you to a private resturant! I know a great place for alcohol!" without a break she continued on, "We'll have a drinking competition and then whoever wins gets to take three wishes from the person who loses!"

Intrigued, Chung Myung finally started paying attention to her. "Really? Reallllyyyyy? Well in that case I can't refuse, can i? Hehehe what a great day today is! Now lead me to that resturant... Uh... what was your name again?"

"(Y/N)! It was (Y/N)!" she responded quite happy with the situation. Chung Myung looked into her innocent eyes, wicked plans forming in his head. There was no way this girl could drink more than him, so with his three wishes he could make her pay the bills and maybe even procure a few pills from her sect!

‘She has no idea what she's getting into, heheheh’ Chung Myung thought as a devious grin formed on his face. But little did he know, he wasnt the only cunning person in the world. Our dear (Y/N) was just as much of a cunning leech as the revered Plum Blossom Sword Saint.

ווו×

Now, back to the present, Chung Myung glanced down at the bottles kept to his right. One–Two–Three–Four–Five–Six. Six bottles. He was sure he had drank more than that, sure that this was his tenth bottle but the counting proved wrong. Was he dizzy? Definitely so but he could still count the bottles he was drinking, it was a special ability of his afterall. So if this was his tenth bottle, did that mean the disciple in front of him had cheated somehow by taking away the empty gourds to her side? No... That couldn't be possible. His sharp senses would have detected foul play right away, correct?

Infront of him, (Y/N) had a sly smirk on her face, she was finishing up her 8th bottle and yet the bottles to her side were 10, her holding the ‘eleventh’ one.

Hic hic

"What is it? Can't drink anymore, sword saint?" (Y/N) asked, stifling in a giggle. Her hair swayed beautifully in the wind that flowed through the open window behind him. (Y/N) looked at him, her eyes half closed as if giving into the intoxication of the drink in her hand.

"Haha, no way *hic* I can do this all night, all day!"

Truth be told, the drowsiness was getting to him. This was one of the strongest alcohol he had ever had which made him wonder how this innocent looking disciple in front of him even knew such a place.

"The resturant will be closing in a while so we should end this competition now?"

"Not until... I finish..." with that his head banged down on the table. He was terribly sleepy yet the disciple in front of him maintained a composed aura. Could a lady like her be such a heavy drinker? It was crazy to even think about! She just looked so sweet and flustered when he first met her but now she was like a whole different person!

"I suppose it has come to an end then? Hehe." she's smiled again, much to his annoyance.

"ALRIGHT! I give up, seriously I can't drink any more!" he grumbled up, using the last of his strength to pick himself up. As he started getting up, eager to escape the embarassment, he heard her say, "Well then what about my three wishes?"

He was hoping she would have forgotten. Was hoping she would be too intoxicated but she wasn't giving up even now? The conditions had been simple however, the one who lost had to fulfill the wishes of the other person. Chung Myung turned around, hoping she wouldn't ask for something inconvenient.

"ugh... right, right. I remember it" he responded getting a bit annoyed. He wasn't in the mood to do anything else except sleep but he also wasn't the kind of person to walk away after a giving a promise. When he looked up at her again, he found her still smiling. Kinda cutely, if he was to say the truth.

"Well, my first wish is... Pay the bill."

Chung Myung looked her in the eyes. "...What?"

The smile which had seemed so sweet until just a moment ago now looked vicious. Somewhat like the deadly poisons from the Tang family.

"Pay the bill. For all this alcohol and food." she smiled sweety up at him.

"Pay the bill? but you were the one who invited me though? Why should I pay the bill?!" he let out a devastated groan.

"Haha, well it's my first wish so you should follow it. Or is the sword saint backing away now that he has lost?"

After hearing that, Chung Myung couldn't keep it in anymore.

‘No, this brat? Who invites someone to drink and then asks them to pay?!’

He brought out a big pouch of money and slammed it down on the table, his anger rising up. He looked her in the eye and said, "the second wish?"

"I wish to spar with you! Well we can't do it today so let's do it the next time we meet, alright? Don't forget about it, hehehe" she giggled at him, seeing his frustrated expression.

‘I'll make sure to crush her during the damned spar... Seriously! Getting on my nerves like that?’

Who would be crazy enough to get on the Plum Blossom Sword Saint's nerves? He was known for his bad behaviour all around Kangho. Beating up people wherever he went and causing trouble everywhere.

"And for my third wish, I want you to buy me a hair pin!"

"A hair pin...?" Weren't accessories usually shared between lovers? Why would this disciple ask for something so intimate?

"It doesn't need to be expensive I just wanted something pretty" she smiled. A genuine one at last. With that she got up from where she was sitting and started going out of the door.

"I know a good shop to buy accessories so please follow me, sword saint!"

Chung Myung blinked at this weird behaviour. He thought she would ask for money or maybe even the pills of the Mount Hua Sect but instead she asked for a accessory? What did warriors even dress up for? It didn't matter to him, however, he just wanted to get rid of her. He followed her through the door as he led him out of the restuarant to a street shop outside.

A red hairpin with adorned with pearls. That's what she chose. Nothing which looked too exquisite, it wasn't even expensive since the pearls were all fake but it still looked so pretty in her hair.

Ba-dump

He looked at her, smiling up at him. A pretty smile. Her lips moved forming some words but it didn't register in his brain. It was crazy, she looked so sweet and innocent when she looked up at him like that even though he knew how devilish she was. He wasn't in love, no, he didn't even like her but she made him feel something that he had never felt before. Maybe it was just a physical attraction or maybe it was something more but this raw feeling hadn't developed yet and regardless of what it was now, it warmed his heart up.