#gold saving scheme

[erp-software-1]

Gold Saving Scheme software

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[vaguely-concerned]

having emotions about the headcanon that ingellvar left all their gold jewelry (I think emmrich calls it a watcher's 'grave dowry' which they accumulate and wear through their lifetime in preparation for their eventual burial which like. god I love these goth freaks) behind when they left the grand necropolis because as far as they're concerned they're being sent into exile and it doesn't seem right to bring it with them........

[icedille]

save me blue and gold color scheme

[magnagaruzenmon]

Inbetween

Just a short little something after seeing these sexy pics

You were just putting the final card into your new Vanguard deck when your phone buzzed. A photo from Jiheon popped up — a blurry selfie of her sprawled on the couch, blanket tangled around her legs, hair in a loose bun. She looked pouty and bored. Underneath, a message:

“Come over. I’m lonely.”

You rolled your eyes, but already your keys were in your hand.

The drive to Jiheon’s place felt familiar — the kind of route your car could take blindfolded. You thought about how long you’d known her. Since your last year of college, and her second. You’d met by accident — you were sliding out of a seat in a lecture hall when she turned to you and said, “Why are you in this class? Isn’t this like, Intro 101?”

You’d raised an eyebrow and explained that her “intro” class was actually a right after for your higher-level course the course she just sat through. She blinked, then grinned.

“Oh. Okay, Mr. Smartypants.”

She’d called you that ever since.

From that moment on, she was a constant in your life. Bright-eyed, sarcastic, fiercely loyal. You’d seen her through all kinds of chaos — tear-stained breakups, half-baked get-rich schemes, failed job interviews and small personal triumphs that felt like gold medals. No matter what, Jiheon carried it all with a crooked smile and a razor-edged wit that never dulled.

You pulled into her complex and headed up without knocking. The apartment was quiet — suspiciously quiet. No Hayoung. No Nagyung. Not even Jiwon’s voice echoing off the kitchen walls. Just Jiheon.

You found her in the bathroom, sitting on the counter in a hoodie three sizes too big, idly brushing her hair. She looked up and beamed when she saw you.

“Ah! You came!”

You frowned at her, genuinely confused by her excitement.

“Yeah… you’re my friend? Why are you acting surprised?”

She gave you a look and tossed the brush down.

“Don’t get smart with me. You’ve been MIA. Work, your move — I haven’t seen you in, like, forever.”

You leaned against the doorframe with a sigh.

“That was two weeks ago. And all of last week you were busy with what’s-his-name. How’s that going, by the way?”

Jiheon’s expression faltered. She looked away for a second before muttering,

“I visited him at work. He was sleeping with his boss.”

The bathroom went quiet, save for the sound of the brush clattering on the counter. You winced.

“Damn. Well, fuck him. Honestly, he was forgettable anyway.”

She laughed, but it was small and tired.

“Thanks, Smartypants.”

You smile and say, “Anytime.”

The two of you sit in the quiet hum of her apartment, the kind of silence only close friends can share without it feeling awkward. Jiheon leans her head against your shoulder, absently pulling the sleeves of her hoodie over her hands as the TV flickers in front of you, muted.

Her presence is warm, familiar. You’d sat like this a hundred times before — post-breakup, post-party, post-bad-days — but something in the air felt different now. Maybe it was the way her hair smelled faintly like vanilla shampoo, or how her fingers brushed against yours without pulling away.

A minute passes. Maybe two. You shift your weight, then stand up.

“Let’s go on a date.”

She blinks, turning toward you from where she’s curled up on the couch.

“Huh?”

The word drops out of her like a reflex — confused, caught off guard. Her brows knit, her lips part just slightly.

You look down at her, hands in your pockets, speaking more from instinct than plan.

“I dunno. It just seemed like a good idea.”

You watch as she processes. Her eyes search your face for a punchline, but find none. She sits up straighter now, not alarmed, but suddenly very alert — like she’s trying to make sense of a new rule in a game she thought she’d already mastered.

“You mean like—” she gestures vaguely between you, “—us? A real date?”

You nod once, not backing away from her gaze.

“Yeah. You and me. Dinner. A movie. We can even pretend we don’t already know each other’s favorite orders and the name of your fourth grade math teacher.”

She lets out a soft laugh at that, eyes wide but not retreating. There’s a long beat, and then she says, quieter now:

“Why now?”

You consider it for a moment. The easy answer would be “why not?” But you owe her honesty.

“Because… when you said you were lonely, I realized I’ve been lonely too. But not in the way I thought. I missed you. Not just the hanging out, or the games, or the texts. I missed us. And maybe we’ve been pretending for a while now that there’s nothing more here… but I don’t want to pretend anymore.”

She swallows, her mouth parting again like she wants to say something, but can’t quite find the words yet.

You smile gently and add, “We can keep sitting here like always. We can forget I said anything. But if there’s even a small part of you that wants to see where this could go… come with me.”

The pause that follows isn’t filled with tension — it’s filled with a quiet possibility, like the moment before the first card is played in a match that means something.

Then, finally, Jiheon stands too. Slowly. Thoughtfully.

“Okay,” she says.

“But you’re paying.”

You grin. “Obviously.”

She rolls her eyes, but her smile betrays her.

You don’t even make it ten minutes down the road before things start to go wrong.

First, the restaurant you chose — a cute little ramen place she once mentioned in passing — turns out to be closed for renovations. Jiheon gives you a pitying look as you stare at the locked door like it might open if you believe hard enough.

“Strong start,” she deadpans.

“Bold of you to assume I don’t plan my failures ahead of time,” you reply.

Plan B? Tacos. But the GPS reroutes you three times, and Jiheon is clearly trying not to comment on how you nearly drive into a bike lane twice. By the time you find parking, it starts raining.

She looks at the sky, then at you.

“I knew I should’ve brought a jacket. This is how I die, isn’t it?”

“If I knew you were this dramatic I never would’ve asked you out.”

“You’ve known me for years. You absolutely knew I was this dramatic.”

The two of you make it into the taqueria drenched and laughing, clothes sticking awkwardly. Inside, you find one table left — directly under an air conditioner blasting arctic wind. Jiheon’s teeth chatter as she unwraps her taco.

“Romantic,” she says. “Free hypothermia with every meal.”

You raise your cup of horchata in mock-toast.

“To suffering.”

Despite it all — or maybe because of it all — the night starts to feel fun. Familiar. Real.

You fall into your usual rhythm: teasing, inside jokes, shared memories. She laughs until she nearly spits out her drink when you remind her of that time she tried to dye your hair “silver fox” and turned it lavender instead.

“You looked like a K-pop idol who got kicked out of the group for tax evasion.”

“You said I looked distinguished.”

“I lied. I was trying to protect your dignity.”

After dinner, the movie theater you’d picked is sold out, and the only other one nearby is showing the worst-looking romcom imaginable — Jiheon raises an eyebrow at you and says,

“You sure you’re not trying to make me break up with you mid-date?”

But you buy the tickets anyway, and to your shared horror… the movie ends up being hilariously awful. By the halfway point, Jiheon’s whisper-commentary is making you wheeze with laughter.

“Why is this man allergic to shirts? Is that a plot point?”

“I think it’s his trauma. Or maybe his fashion choices are the trauma.”

“God, they’re about to kiss again. You owe me popcorn refills.”

You both stumble out of the theater an hour later, wheezing and half-crying with laughter. You can’t remember the last time you had this much fun.

Back in the car, parked outside her apartment, there’s a quiet lull as the engine ticks softly. Jiheon looks at you. Not with her usual smirk or a sarcastic quip — but something softer, unreadable at first.

“That was terrible,” she says finally.

You grin. “Completely cursed.”

“And I still had the best night I’ve had in months.”

Your grin fades into something gentler.

“Yeah. Me too.”

She doesn’t look away, doesn’t laugh it off this time. Instead, she leans in — just slightly. Testing. Inviting.

“So… second date?”

“God, yes.”

She smiles, and this time it isn’t crooked or teasing — it’s full.

And then, finally, she kisses you.

Disaster or not, this is the best date either of you have ever had.

You smile as she breaks the kiss, her breath still brushing against your skin. She looks at you for a moment longer than necessary, eyes lingering like she’s memorizing your face. Then, almost shyly, she murmurs,

“Wanna come inside?”

You follow her in.

The apartment is dimly lit, warm and familiar. Her jacket lands in a heap on the couch, and she kicks off her sneakers with the casual chaos of someone who lives alone and likes it that way.

You glance around, noticing something’s off.

“Where’s the gang?” you ask, referring to her usual group of friends — loud, opinionated, always draped across her furniture like they pay rent.

Jiheon shrugs, already halfway through rummaging for snacks in the kitchen.

“I think they mentioned something about a carnival and the night market downtown.”

You blink.

“That sounds like fun. Why didn’t you go?”

She bounces slightly on her heels as she emerges from the kitchen, chips in hand, a little sheepish.

“Um… I don’t know. It felt weird? Like, everyone was hyped about it and I just… kept thinking about how cool it’d be to hang out with you, tbh.”

You give her a look — the kind that says “you are so bad at hiding how sincere you are.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

She grins unabashed.

“And I was right! We had a fantastic night.” Her voice is high with excitement, like she’s still riding the buzz of the evening.

You smile, softer this time.

“So… what now?”

Jiheon looks at you with a mischievous glint, hopping backwards toward the couch.

“I sit on your lap and play Overwatch, obviously.”

You snort.

“Okay, that’s a weirdly specific fantasy.”

She winks.

“Give me Eighteen minutes. Timer starts now.”

You assume she’s joking.

But sure enough, seventeen minutes and some change later, you’re seated on her couch, a controller in one hand, the other arm awkwardly draped as Jiheon settles herself squarely in your lap — headset on, fully immersed in a competitive match. She leans back slightly, totally at ease, like this is the most normal thing in the world.

It should be weird. It should be.

But it’s… weirdly comfortable.

The warm weight of her. The sound of her muttering callouts under her breath. The flicker of game colors dancing across her walls. The hum of the console. The faint scent of her shampoo.

Somewhere between her shouting “PUSH POINT, YOU COWARDS” and your third yawn, your eyelids start to droop. You barely notice it. Your body relaxes under hers, lulled by her voice and the gentle rhythm of explosions and victory music.

Jiheon glances down once, mid-match, and smiles when she realizes you’ve dozed off — one hand still loosely around her waist. She doesn’t say anything. Just shifts slightly to let you breathe easier, and keeps playing.

You wake up two hours later on the same couch but Jiheon is gone. You look around for her until you hear moaning from her bathroom. At first you ignore it until she says your name. You rush to her to find her playing with herself. At first your speechless until she says

“Since you’re here, fuck me!”

You barely have time to think before you undo your pants and your stroking your cock for her. Her look is so intense and inviting you just can’t help it. You don’t even think about getting a rubber or doing anything like that.

You slide inside with mind numbing ease as she takes all of you. You groan

“Fuck Heoni you feel so good,” Jiheon turns her face to yours and says,

“You’re so big inside me,” as she backs her ass up into you. You groan as she convulses around your cock.

“Shit Jiheon,” you say as you start thrusting inside her. She coos and moans as she feels you hit her cervix,

“Fuck keep going!” She moans as you keeping ramming your cock. Her breath is ragged as her see through top invites you to slip your hands under the shirt and grab her perfect mounds.

She moans as your hands run all over her body. Her walls are velvet as the happily let you venture deeper into her tight snatch. Jiheon moans before staring back at you,

“This is gonna need to be an every weekend thing now!” You growl. Jiheon smirks

“Does Mr Smarty pants love my pussy?” She teased as she clenches around you,

You groan and say “yes! It’s perfect,” Jiheon smiled then adds,

“Well then as long as we can go on cute dates and I can play overwatch while sitting in your lap I’ll happily let you fuck me,”

You smile and say, “I love you,” Jiheon blushes at that before running into her wall of release. She groans as her pussy tightens around you despairing to milk you for all your worth before she squirts all over your cock. You groan as she moans trying to outlast her but she gives you that sultry needy look and you lose it.

Three hard pumps more and you’re flooding her pussy with cum. You can’t help it. Seeing her in the bathroom mirror so lost to pleasure just sets you off.

As the both of you come down the bathroom door opens and the rest of Jiheon’s crew find you balls deep inside her. Chaeyoung laughs and says, “Took you two long enough!”

[poolseason]

[NINJAGELION AU]

i've had this Ninjago x Evangelion/Mecha crossover au brewing in my head for years now, felt like revisiting it

Long post under the cut: Backstories, design notes and character lore

Mechs:

Unit-01 (WIP) : Lloyd's mech, supposed to resemble an Oni. It's primarily a dark purple with glowing green panels and orange accents, with 2 horn like antannae. It's 4 eyes are actually an LCD display. Unit-01's color scheme the same as from the source material, bc purple green and gold are plot relevant colors for Lloyd specifically. The weapons this unit uses are short-swords, plasma blasters, and it's bare fists(lol). This mech is prone to going berserk a lot, possibly due to it's pilot's mental instability.

(In NGE, the mech's are possessed by a spirit of their parents or loved ones, I'm indecisive on if Garmadon is the ghost in Lloyd's mech or Misako. Last time I was thinking about this au, Misako was possessing it, but i'm sort of leaning towards Garmadon again. idk idk.....)

Unit-02 (WIP): Built to resemble a samurai with dragon like elements that glow red. This mech is built for but land and undersea combat, making it the most versatile machine on the force. It's equipped with a retractable sword and an acid blaster. It's possessed by a former scientist named Nyad.

Pilots (and Cole):

Cole is a captain, (looking to be promoted to major) and is the head of the New Ninjago City base's combat division. He sort of a silly dude and while he takes his job really seriously, he's also prone to unprofessionalism. He personally oversees the pilots training and coaches them during fights. When Commander Garmadon and Assistant Head Wu refuse to take Lloyd in when he arrives at NNC, Cole decides to take the kid in himself and be the parental figure he doesn't have. Cole's got a complicated relationship with his own family, especially after his mother died saving him the Second Impact 20 years ago, now he vows to destroy all the darkness monsters that are invading.

Zane is sort of a mysterious guy. He's an artifical lifeform created specifically to pilot any mech but he usually fights in the prototype, Unit-00. Unit-01 doesn't seem to like him, and never responds to him. His suit is mostly grayscale, white armor, and light blue accents. His neural interface comes with a visor to help him see better. His primary relationships are Cole, Dr Pixal Borg, who is his personal doctor and (almost) confidant, Wu, who he has a father-son esque relationship with, and Lloyd his first true friend. He doesn't see much value in himself because he can always be replaced with a different copy, but his time with his friends starts to teach him otherwise

Nya and her supervising officer Kai are from Ignacia and joined the NINJA-go battle mech program through their connection with their parents, who were officers of the organization. But after a terrible accident following the Second Impact, they were left orphaned. Kai was too old to qualify as a pilot, but Nya was the perfect candidate. She began training at age 13, and became the strongest fighter on the force. Now at nineteen, the darkness monsters are now attacking and she (and her brother) are transferred to the New Ninjago City base, which seems to be the epicenter of the attacks, and now the the former solo-flyer has to learn to be a part of a team. She's a bit arrogant and prickly and a kindhearted friend to the other pilots, and she's got a bit of a crush on Junior Technician Jay Walker. Nya's suit design is definitely the most personalized primarily blue with grey, and darker blue and red accents with white armor, actually she ended looking a little like D.Va lol.

Lloyd, is the youngest pilot on the team now, but he's still a minor so he has to deal with the joys of school alongside his new life as a mech fighter. Having been unexpectedly summoned to Ninjago City by his estranged Uncle Wu and pressured into fighting the invading monster, Lloyd is apprehensive about his new double life, but this responsibility bestowed on him now means he now has friends and people who care about him, a far cry from the abusive boarding school he was abandoned at. Lloyd's a moody kid, with some anger issues and unresolved trauma at something terrible he witnessed when he was a young child, but he's also an empathetic kid who's willing to help everyone he meets. Lloyd has a sibling like rivalry with Nya, big brother(teetering on fatherly) relationship with Cole and Kai, a crush on the girl from school who punched him Akita, and really strained relationship with his parents and uncle. Beyond that he has a friendship with his mysterious colleague Zane that he doesn't really understand. Lloyd's suit is the most simple of the pilot suits, mostly green with white armor and gold accents. He didn't really think too much about it, other than asking Jay to make it green. His neural interface is also pretty simple, since he has an bizarrely high natural sync rate with his mech, which resemble little horns.

MISC Lore:

The second impact was an event where humanity fucked around and found out on the Dark Island and and entity called the Overlord awakened from hibernation, causing a near apocalypse that left Ninjago in an eternal heatwave. 20 years later these dragon-like monsters have started attacking trying to get to something being held deep below Ninjago City (source dragon? FSM as a dragon? firstbourne?? some kind of Dragon is under the base)

Zane promised Lloyd that he'll bring snowy winters back for him, and even though Lloyd thinks that was a rare moment of cheesiness from his friend, little did he know that Zane was going to cause an Ice Age during the climax.

Only people born after the second impact are viable candidates to pilot the NINJA mechs. When Kai learned of this he was furious that he couldn't be the one to avenge his family, and had to watch his sister fight and train instead. But in spite of his anger he made it a personal mission to get power in the organization and uncover the conspiracy behind the Second Impact and the attacking monsters.

Unit-00 is a prototype mech and isn't equipped for most combat scenarios, so Zane is primarily a long-range fighter and sniper. Zane might be replaceable to the force but Unit-00 isn't. Unit-00 was originally designed by Dr. Julien, but the man went mad and under mysterious circumstances, he was found dead inside it's entry plug alongside Zane's original iteration, Echo. After that incident, testing began on it, the original test pilot was a 24 year old, Morro, who was personally recruited by Wu, but the synchronization failed and disaster struck again, ending with Unit-00 going berserk, and another casualty. A similar incident happened with Zane, and later Lloyd, though they survive. Wu just needs to learn that Unit-00 really hates new pilots, and Zane is the only successful pilot for it.

Unit-01 is also a very testy machine, it only likes Lloyd, and goes berserk if it feels that Lloyd is in danger. Otherwise it doesn't respond to anyone else.

Cole and Kai might have hooked up in grad school, no one really knows for certain.

Pixal is the second Borg to join the organization, her father Cyrus Borg was one of the original researchers, and the person who designed the Geofront system that allowed the inhabited buildings in New Ninjago City to safely go underground and become a fortress on the surface. Pixal is more interested in the actual NINJA mechs and combat division research more than the civilian safety r&d, and she becomes the Head Scientist by the time the story begins.

Pixal the second in command to Cole, and her assistant is 23 year old genius Jay Walker, fresh out of an engineering degree and landed himself in the most insane secret government organization. Skylor and Dareth are the two other lead technicians. But Dareth's not too amazing at his job, admittedly.

The NINJA mechs aren't just machines,, they're enormous building sized cyborgs, and are actually alive creatures being held under armor. Unit-00 and 02 are cloned only from the dragon held under the Ninjago City base, but Unit-01 is cloned from the Overlord and the Dragon, making it a hybrid.

Throughout the story Cole and Kai begin to uncover a conspiracy orchestrated by the Commander and (reluctant accomplice Wu) and a mysterious council, with plans to destroy to world and rewrite reality, and for some reason Zane and Lloyd are at the center of it.

[leeny-leens]

When I bleed, its not blood but devotion

Pairing: poly!Mattheodore x f!Reader

Summary: You get into a fight and end up in the hospital wing, as is expected. The fight isn’t the problem, it's explaining the reason you decked that moron in the first place to one disappointed Theodore Nott and a gleefully smug Mattheo Riddle.

Warnings: mentions of a fight, description of injuries (not too detailed), cursing, threats of murder and violence, threats of torture, a few sexual innuendos here and there, things get a bit spicy in the last part but nothing much

Content: established poly relationship, Reader is sassy, Theodore being the brain and responsible person in the relationship, Theodore also resorting to Italian because his lovers are dumbasses, Mattheo being am endorser of violence, flustered Theo, fluffy humour, dramatic MattyReader duo

WC: 3.72k

Translations: Bella - beautiful | caro - dear | Porca miseria, perché è sempre così con voi pagliacci? - Holy shit, why is it always like this with you clowns? | stronzi - fuckers | Smettila di iniziare litigi - stop starting fights

AN: took a bit to get this done because its my first time writing a poly relationship but i cant stop thinking about Mattheodore with their girl, lmk what you think 🤍

The hospital wing is quiet, save for the whirring of enchanted apparatuses and Madame Pomfrey’s quiet murmuring. It’s not so bad, you think yourself, having the whole place to yourself. The bed you’re assigned to is right across the window, so you get to watch first years fall off their brooms with glee. Really, you struck gold with being here; everyone else is stuck in their respective classes or studying in the library, enduring the stifling heat and moisture, while you get to laze about in here with the cooling spells keeping the oncoming spring heat out. It’s of course totally irrelevant to mention that you can barely move without the dull thumping of pain in your sides restricting your movements, or breathe without struggling because of your busted nose.

A small price to pay for the luxurious skipping opportunity, you decide, and you already plan what kind of excuses you’ll throw around when you sneak to your table later at dinner. You’d rather not be subjected to your friends’ fussing, or worse, your boyfriends’ lectures and worrisome nature. They simply can’t find out you got into a fight and ended up in the hospital wing, you decide grimly, already scheming who to threaten and silence, lest rumours about your little altercation reach their ears.

Much to your dismay however, your little peaceful hideout is rudely infiltrated by the slam of the big double doors, half startling you off the bed. At the open doors, you spot the disheveled form of Mattheo Riddle, his messy hair half sticking to his sweaty forehead as he frantically surveys the room in search of something, or rather someone. Behind him, you can make out Theodore’s figure running down the hall, presumably in an attempt to catch up to him, and you can almost imagine his frustrated huff when Mattheo spots you and immediately darts off to your bed.

You brace yourself for the inevitable collision with the speed at which Mattheo is running towards you, squeezing your eyes tightly so you at least won’t futilely attempt to escape, but the impact never hits. A strangled noise catches your attention and so you crack one eye open, gasping at the comical sight. Theodore somehow managed to catch up to Mattheo, grabbing him by the scruff of his neck, much like a mother kitten would with its rowdy children, and is now holding him back while he kicks and swats to be freed.

The sight truly is amusing, a flurry of giggles escaping you as you watch Mattheo struggle in his boyfriend’s grasp, kicking and cursing to be let go. The action however, brings you immediate pain and regret, the potions Poppy pumped you full with still not in enough effect to numb the pain.

Your pained whimper immediately has your two boys alarmed, and in his worry, Theo releases Mattheo. The latter is by your side in seconds, his brows furrowed and his pretty brown eyes darkened by the anxiety your state must be causing him.

“What happened?” He asks, hands hovering unsurely by your side. It must take a lot of restraint for him to touch you, because Mattheo never passes up an opportunity to cling to you, whether for his own pleasure or to comfort you. Theo sighs, ruffling the other boy’s hair before yanking him away from you.

“Give her some space,” he quips dryly, completely ignoring Mattheo’s protests. He’s more composed than his other third, and if you didn’t know him so well, he could’ve almost fooled you into thinking he didn’t really care about the whole ordeal. But there are those little telltale signs, like the way his robes are crooked, very obviously haphazardly thrown over, or the way his ears are ever so slightly red from worry. His hands continually twitch with the need for action by his side, and his blue eyes never once leave your injured form on the bed, taking in every single gush and bandage, cataloging them away for when he would help you take care of them, whether you wanted to or not.

He rounds the bed, settling on the other side before gently placing his hand on your knee, his thumb tracing soothing circles in the skin.

“What trouble did you get into now, bella?” He muses exasperated. Mattheo makes a half offended noise, taking his wand out and muttering a spell that has your bed extending to accommodate three people on one bed. Immediately, he props himself on your left side, his fingers ghosting over your forehead. He traces along the uninjured spots of your face, his touch lighter than a feather, dutifully keeping from any places that might hurt. Countless fights have rendered him somewhat a professional in understanding pain, the knowledge now handy in pouring his affection as carefully as possible.

Their sudden appearance is a bit overwhelming, the intensity of their gaze, blue and brown eyes that never stray from your face, rendering you speechless. Even if you wanted to explain the situation —which you really don’t want too—, you couldn’t. The words get stuck in your throat, leaving you to open and close your mouth like a desperate fish out of the water.

Still, they wait with never ending patience, their hands offering soothing comfort as they silently coax you into talking to them, drawing you out of your defensive shell with not a speck of accusation or judgment.

“I got into a fight,” you finally manage to mumble, a failed attempt at sounding casual. It isn’t a big deal, at least to you, but the two of them clearly don’t share the sentiment. Mattheo's posture immediately stiffens, his jaw tensing with hot red anger. “Names,” he almost barks, “give me names right fucking now.” His reaction is dramatic, too much and you turn to the responsible one between you three, hoping Theo might be able to help you talk Mattheo into calming down. Your hopes are cruelly crushed into nothing, because Theo radiates pure bloodlust, on par with Mattheo’s rage, his hand grasping the bed sheets so tightly you can barely tell his knuckles from the white fabric apart.

“It’s no big deal,” you huff, leaning forward to flick the both of them on the forehead. The action seems to snap them out of their murderous thoughts, the both of them throwing you offended looks as they rub the sore spot. “Seriously, Poppy said it looks worse than it actually is.”

On cue, the matron of the ward steps out of her office, her eyes furrowing disapprovingly at the sight of the three of you huddled on the bed, but she is used to this by now from all the times you stuck around when either one of you got hurt. She lets it go ever so graciously, stepping closer and performs spell-work over you that engulfs your body in a silver shimmer. Theodore watches with utmost attention, as if attempting to read the matron’s mind and willing the magic to heal you faster. Mattheo watches you instead, intensely observing any indicators of pain and only relaxes when the magic leaves you visibly more relaxed than before.

“She should be all good to go in a few hours,” Poppy declares, “some bruising and swelling, a busted nose that will heal quickly and two cracked ribs that we fixed earlier.” With a quiet accio she instantly has three vials floating near her, all which she hands to Theodore with such naturalness, not sparing you a second glance, it kind of leaves you baffled.

“Have her take this three times a day,” she points to the vial with acid green liquid, “and apply those on the areas that hurt.” Theodore stows the vials in his pockets, nodding because this isn’t his first rodeo as the caretaker in charge.

With one last disapproving glance, she turns on her heel and disappears back into her office, not before sparing you a theatrical warning. “Behave yourselves and don’t cause a ruckus,” she scolds, the door shutting behind her with a soft clack.

You slump into the bed, pulling your lovers down and manoeuvre your limbs in a way that won’t cause any prolonged numbness. The three of you are experts by now at this, having had adequate time since practically second year, to learn which positions were best for injured cuddles. The knowledge only ran deeper after your tumultuous fifth year, which you spent the better part of the year dating on and off in every combination known to mankind until you came to the conclusion that you could simply just all date each other without having to choose.

With practiced ease, Theo wraps his arms around you, carefully avoiding the injured and bandaged areas. His legs tangle with yours, joined by Mattheo's long limbs as the latter reaches across your stomach to intertwine his fingers with Theo’s. His face nuzzles into your neck, pressing kisses into your skin as he mumbles gibberish strings of sentences you can barley make out, but you're fairly certain it's a detailed rundown of how he plans to torture everyone who contributed to your pain. The warmth of their bodies is comforting and familiar, like coming home after an exhausting day and wrapping yourself in a warm blanket.

Theo is tracing your waist when he finally speaks up, his face schooled into a neutral expression.

“So,” he says casually, “care to explain the details of your adventure?”

You've dreaded this question long before he asked it, probably as soon as you'd actually gotten into the fight. But it's inevitable, and you know there's no escaping Theo, even if you wanted too. If you don't fess up now, he will find a way to get it out of someone else. And Merlin help you and every poor bloke involved in this should Theo actually have to resort to getting his information on his own.

As if equipped with some high grade legilimency, Mattheo nudges you with his face gently. “Speak now or forever hold your peace, princess,” he warns jokingly, though the both of you know what it really means. Being friends with Theodore Nott for seven years and dating him for two of those has unfortunately subjected the both of you to his incredibly stubborn and merciless nature —in a variety of settings, some more well liked than others, if you catch the drift— which unfortunately also means that you know you're not leaving this bed until he gets a satisfactory answer, or until he tortures you enough to get his fill.

Besides, it's hard to deny him anything when his fingers are tracing idle shapes on your skin, the touch both maddening and soothing at once. And it's especially hard to resist becoming putty in his hands when he stares at you with those big blue eyes, dark like the deepest corner of the ocean and filled with unwavering devotion that knows no bounds.

You resign to yourself to your fate, making yourself more comfortable by tangling one hand into Mattheo’s hair for the sake of nervous fidgeting and lean more into Theodore as you begin to explain.

“I was going from my Potions class to Herbeology, minding my own business,” Mattheo snorts, as if the notion of you minding your own business is of great amusement before Theo digs his nails into his palm, giving him a stern look that roughly translates into Shut the fuck up and let her talk.

“As I was saying,” you continue with a huff, “I was minding my own business like I would on any perfectly normal Tuesday, when I came to the belief that my ears must deceive me! In the courtyard, a bunch of Gryffinidiots were huddled together, lounging about as if they owned the world, loudly complaining and boasting about shit no one cares about.”

You hope this would be enough of an explanation, not in the mood to elaborate on the actual reason you fought one of the morons in the courtyard, but alas, Theo does not give in. He stares at you with furrowed eyebrows, clearly attempting to piece together what would warrant a fight just because a few Gryffindor were being annoying. Silently, he beckons you to continue and you groan with a bit more theatrics than needed, giving Mattheo’s curls a few tugs that cause a few noises of bliss.

“Anyways, I was going to ignore them, especially because the moment they saw me they started making comments trying to rile me up,” you stare at Theo, batting your eyes at him innocently when he very clearly questions your bull. “Honest! I was trying to be peaceful because I know you can’t stand it when Matty and I start fights,” you added, choosing to dignify Mattheo’s snort with a jab into his ribs.

A short moment of silence stretches between you, with you trying to think your next words over carefully in order to minimise the lecture potential that will absolutely follow suit. After deciding that really, theres no way to put this without receiving at least a heavy disappointed stare, you sigh and finally confess.

“The whole ignoring thing was going pretty well too, until one of the loud mouths had the absolute audacity to insult Mattheo, calling him a psychotic piece of shit with a filthy soul” the stunned silence lasts for exactly three seconds before Mattheo sits up like he was struck by lightning, the look of bewilderment on his face slowly morphing into a shit eating grin.

“Oh my god,” he says, his voice sounding just a bit maniacal as he speaks. “You got into a fight to defend me?” By the way he says it, you might’ve as well proposed to him, it probably would’ve elicited the same reaction. Theo groans at the his boyfriends display of drama, reaching over to swat his arms.

“Don’t encourage her, caro,” he warns, but Mattheo doesn’t give two shits. He jumps up from the bed, pacing around like a caged animal and turns to look at you with a grin from ear to ear.

“Oh my god I’m so proud of you princess.”

“Don’t be proud of her, this isn't the time to encourage getting into fights for fucks sake!”

“First of all, I’m always proud of our girl,” Mattheo replies, winking at you, “second of all my love, I’ll always encourage getting into fights, that’s sort of my whole thing, no?” You try to stifle your giggles, you really do, but Theo looks like he aged 20 years just by listening to Mattheo talk and really, how can you resist when the boy breaks into an italian tangent about god knows what.

“Porca miseria, perché è sempre così con voi pagliacci?*” he curses, sitting up to run his hands over his face. You’re not exactly sure what he just said, but you think he might be either confessing his love or cursing the both of you.

Mattheo snorts, rounding the bed to stand in front of Theo and cradles his face in his hands with a smirk. “It’s always this way with us because we are, as you stated, clowns,” the words register in your mind and your offence is immediate. You pull yourself to sit up, noting that the pain has lessened from a sharp ache into just a dull echo, and hit Theo’s shoulder with a scandalised gasp.

“Theodore Niccolo Nott , I am not a clown, how dare you?” He glances at you, expression flat save for the twitch in the corner of his mouth and the fucker shrugs, like the insult is a universal fact he stands by.

You and Mattheo exchange looks, an entire conversation between your eyes before you begin to lament your shared woes in sync.

“Oh woe is me, my own boyfriend thinks I’m a clown,” you cry out, clutching your chest like you’d just been stabbed and shot.

“Woe is me indeed,” Mattheo adds, one of his hands to his forehead while the other squished Theo’s face tightly. The Italian tries to swat away Mattheo’s hand, but it doesn’t hold any real vigour. He leans into the touch more than anything, a small content smile on his face that he most definitely will deny should you point it out.

“Well how is it my fault if you two stronzi* are always going around beim morons? Smettila di iniziare litigi,* for fucks sake!”

Mattheo and you make eye contact, the both of you biting your lips as Theodore goes on and on in a mixture between Italian and English, lecturing you for your idiocies and your behaviour. At a certain point, he even stands up and pushes Mattheo to sit beside you, pacing back and forth as he gestures wildly with his hands.

Mattheo and you nod solemnly, not catching a single word he says and instead focusing on how absolutely hot he sounds scolding you like that. Ten minutes into his lecture, he finally realises the both of you aren't pay in attention, too busy staring at his lips and face with a star struck expression.

“Oh, mio dio*, you didn't hear a single thing I said, did you?” He asks, crossing his arms while staring at you like two children that just got caught stealing cookies from a jar. You and Mattheo avoid his gaze expertly, mumbling half assed excuses he definitely won’t believe, before risking a glance in his direction. To your absolute dismay, you’re confronted with his disappointed look, his mouth pressed into a thin line, worry lines deeply etched into his handsome face and eyes darkened by the sheer volume of disappointment.

“Don’t look at me like this,” Mattheo defends weakly, “I’m not the one that landed myself a trip to the hospital wing!” It’ truly marvellous what a man will do when facing the disappointment of his boyfriend, going as far as to sell out his girlfriend to save his own skin like a coward. You shove Mattheo roughly, hissing strings of curses about his betrayal under your breath.

“Yeah, but you’re condoning it and just as bad,” Theo quips back, his eyes narrowing at the sight of the two of you fighting. Immediately, you cease all movement and sit calmly, unable to bear the guilt that washes over you.

“You talk as if you wouldn’t do the same,” you mumble, gaining some confidence in your stance when Mattheo nods eagerly.

“Yeah,” he joins in, “you’d never let it slide if someone talked shit about me or her!”

Theo looks at the two of you like you’re really, really stupid and he can’t decide if he wants to slap you, kiss you or fuck you. You’d take all three, any day any time, in that very order, but that’s beside the point.

“Yeah, but have you ever seen me get in a fight?” He waits for an answer he knows won’t come, because Theodore Nott is above petty fights. Oh no, he doesn’t do barbaric altercations. He schemes in the dark, orchestrates quietly in the shadows to plan a swift and miserable death in every category, be it social, mental, physical or elsewhere.

If Mattheo resorts to violence, you to words and magic, then Theo resorts to dirty schemes that will leave people questioning their actions for the rest of their lives. He wasn’t one for temporary consequences, he likes to leave a mark, in more ways than one.

“Next time, you’ll be more careful, capice*?” He asks, letting out a long and weary sigh at the sight of you taking the scolding with no more protests. You nod dutifully, fully knowing that you will in fact not be more careful if it means you can defend your boys from slander. Theo seems to read your mind, pinching the bridge of his nose with a pained expression, which instantly evaporates when Mattheo pulls him down to his level to press a kiss onto his mouth.

The kiss is sudden and takes both you and Theo by surprise, but unlike him, you instantly acclimate to the display and smirk gleefully when you watch his expression shift as soon as Mattheo pulls away from him. His face is red, eyes blown wide and his lips are slightly bruised from the impact and the rough way he’s handled; just like Mattheo likes him.

Mattheo turns to you, a cheeky grin on his face that spells his intentions clear as day. Still, you’re quick to jump into action, pulling him to you and joining your lips into a fervent kiss. His hands hold the side of your face with such gentleness; a stark contrast to how he bites and nibs at your lips roughly. You meet his passion with an intensity of your own, holding the back of his neck firmly as your other hands tugs and pulls on his hair. Each time, he lets out sounds of pure pleasure that you swallow with your own mouth, taking the chance to slide your tongue into his mouth.

With too much reluctance, you part away, faces flushed and lips swollen. Theodore watches intensely, mouth slightly apart like always when he watches you kiss and touch.

He clears his throat, adjusting his stance as his eyes darts between the two of you and the exit of the hospital wing.

“I’ll go ask Poppy if you can go,” he presses, all but sprinting to the matrons office, leaving you and Mattheo to giggle about the whole ordeal. You let your head fall onto his shoulder, fondly nuzzling against his side and revelling in the soft and careful touches as the quiet conversation from Poppy’s office drifts to the both of you. You close your eyes with a smile, just for a moment, and you think it might not be so bad to bleed, if only those two stick by your side every time.

[novvabee]

The Wrong Color

Summary: poly!jegulily x reader, Y/N and Lily wear the boys jerseys at the Gryffindor vs Slytherin game.

cw: suggestive

word count: 1.3k

The lovely Scottish morning light was always so peaceful when it glowed through the black lake and the Slytherin dorm room windows. The light fractured and bloomed along the green bed sheets you were tangled in. It would have been perfect, if only your boyfriend wasn’t running around the room looking for all his quidditch gear.

Regulus always gets like this before games, but especially games against your rival house, the house that your other boyfriend and girlfriend are a part of; Gryffindor. You love the other half of your relationship, but man, could they be annoying. You liked the rivalry, it made things fun, especially since it was two against two, you and Regulus, and Lily and James.

Regulus was worked up last night, meaning you two didn’t get much sleep, meaning you both woke up late and now he was rushing to get to breakfast before the match. 

“You know this is your fault right?” he explained to you. “If you hadn’t stayed the night-”

“My fault?” you interrupted sounding amused. “If I’m remembering correctly, it was you begging ‘please please, I’ll do anything-”

It was his turn to interrupt you, this time with a kiss. He broke away and smiled down at you. He looked godly in this light.

“You'll be in the stands cheering for me today right?” he asked, the smile still lingering on his lips.

“Of course not! You know I can't play favorites,” you explained “Plus why would I? I hate you.” You said, joking of course.

He raised his brows and cocked his head to the side. “Oh really? Was that hatred last night?” he asked before kissing you again, laying you back on the bed and climbing on top of you. 

You really wish you could stay like this, but you giggled and pushed him off, swatting at his arm saying “You’re already late! Go!”

He took your command and breezed out the door of his unshared dorm room, a perk of being a prefect. 

Right, now it was your turn to get dressed, only you and Lily had been scheming. You were going to show up in James’s spare Gryffindor jersey, and Lily in Regulus’s. You had always just worn your own house colors or the correlating boy's extra jerseys, but you and Lily wanted to see their reactions. 

You pulled on the red and gold, pairing it with some jeans and converse, a very casual, very James look. You looked at yourself in the mirror, it felt so unnatural, but that was the fun of it.

You met Lily outside your common room before heading to the stands to get a good seat. 

  Seeing her in the green and black jersey was odd, but she was striking, as always. The green brought out the colors in her eyes, making her red hair stand out even more. She was gorgeous.

“You look good in green.” you blushed as you told her.

She scoffed as she took you in. “You look good in red,” she said. “Come on, we should get going before all the front row seats are taken,” she wrapped her arm around your shoulder, pulling you into her side and kissing your temple. 

You two caught up with Marlene and Dorcas, both sporting their own house colors, Marlene in her own jersey, and looked at you and Lily in slight bewilderment. 

“Uh, I think you two grabbed the wrong tops when dressing this morning.” Marlene examined, raising an eyebrow at the pair of you.

You looked at Lily, then back at your friends. “Huh, guess we were rushing.” you said, smirking. Lily nudged you with her hip, but the four of you continued on walking to the pitch.

Once there, you had gone right up to your usual spot, Peter had dutifully saved you all seats. You took yours, front and center, and waited for Lily to return from the concessions stand with the butterbeer you asked for. 

You turned and made small conversations with Peter about the previous quidditch matches and yesterday's boring potions lecture. 

“Oh, uh… by the way, what’s with the uh,” Peter said pointing to your choice of jersey.

“Just wanted to be supportive, that’s all,” you said with a fake tone of innocence.

He chuckled. “Yes but, on today of all days? They might just knock each other off their brooms.” 

“Oh don’t worry, Pete,” you said, “Lily is in Regulus’s.”

All of your friends knew about your relationship, and were happy for you all. They never judged or misunderstood anything, something that your entire group of friends was known for, being accepting and understanding of all types of love. 

They did, however, love to see the games the four of you played with each other. You four were known to prank and tease and provoke each other, but it was always in good fun and always stemming from the house rivalry. Other than that, the four of you didn’t play when it came to your relationship, you were wholly devout to each other, no matter what house you may belong to. 

Lily came up the stands, promised butterbeer in hand, and sat herself right next to you. She had perfect timing, the boys were about to start playing. 

James zoomed by on his broom, Regulus hot on his tail, warming up and having some fun teasing each other before the real game starts.

“Gyffindor has this in the bag.” Lily announced to all of your friends.

“Mmm, I’m pretty sure Slytherin has the better record this year.” you replied and shot her a devious smile.

“Remind me, who won the cup last year?” she questioned, giving you the same deviousness. You replied by playfully rolling your eyes, hitting her knee with your own.

The high pitched whistle sounded, signaling the start of the game. It was an intense, brutal rush of back and forth. Both teams playing hard, fighting for the win and the glory that comes along with it. The game turned dirty and aggressive almost immediately.

The match was tied, coming down to the final moments when you watched both your boyfriends diving and spinning toward the ground before pulling up at the last minute. They were no doubt chasing after the tiny golden snitch. 

You leaped to your feet, tracking them both the whole way. James was reaching out his hand, the snitch almost within grasp when Regulus suddenly slammed into his side, knocking James away, putting himself closer to the snitch instead. James didn’t take this lightly, he zoomed back to Regulus’s side and the two shoved and shoved. You would have been more concerned, but this is exactly how each match ended, the two of them fighting for the golden ball. 

The boys rerouted their course, heading straight over the section both you and Lily were sitting in. This must have been some sort of plan devised by Regulus, because this change made James’s gaze slip, fall to both Lily wearing Slytherin green and you in Gryffendor red with big yellow block letters spelling out ‘POTTER’.

This slight break in attention, the hesitation, allowed Regulus to capture the snitch while his opponent was distracted.

You cheered and hugged Dorcas, feeling prideful for your house’s big victory, Regulus taking a lap around the pitch. Lily cheered as well, not as much as you of course, not wanting to admit defeat, but still proud of her boy. You took her by the hand and pulled her along down to the field to meet your boys.

James met you first, flying down a bit disappointed, but obviously happy for Regulus. He spotted you and immediately hugged you. This sweet gesture was a guise, pulling you close to his body only to whisper “This is your fault you know,” into your ear.

You giggled. “Believe it or not, that is not the first time I have heard that sentence today.” you said, pulling away and looking up at him. He had that smirk, that look spread across his face, one that often came after he lost. Perhaps you wouldn’t get much sleep tonight either.

[daycourtofficial]

Gingerfucker - Eris x Rhys’s Sister!reader Masterlist

Banner by @milswrites | Note: these are in chronological order by content, not by posting date. This is an ongoing series and will be updated.

Summary: no one is more surprised than Eris Vanserra to find that he is capable of much more than just political ambition

Some art of the babies: (Nyx and Atlas) (All the gingersnaps) (Atlas and Leif) (Atlas) (the family)

Art by @dawneternal: Eris during the events of Cold was the steel of my axe to grind, portraits of the gingersnaps, art of Eris and Atlas

Gingerfucker week 2024 blurbs

Moodboard

It’s just to satiate the bond - an agreement to have sex just to satiate a mating bond neither party wants is a great idea. Surely no one will get hurt, right?

Insatiable you - immediately following the events of it’s just to satiate the bond - Eris’s sudden disappearance when you saw him last has left you in a foul mood for weeks. Unwilling to admit to the source of them, they aren’t as one sided as your mate wants you to think they are.

One single thread of gold tied me to you* - Eris accepts the mating bond and is incredibly touched by the effort you put into cooking him the meal from scratch

All’s well that ends well to end up with you - fears and doubts cause you and Eris to do your first irrational act together: a secret mating bond ceremony

I am ash from your fire - Surprising Eris one evening, you’ve turned up in the dead of night to let him know that your brother had figured out your secret relationship, offering you an ultimatum.

Cold was the steel of my axe to grind - centuries of plotting and scheming come to a head when his mate unexpectedly arrives in Autumn and Eris is desperate to set his plans in motion, least she become a piece for Beron to use against him

Chains around my demons, wool to brave the seasons - Eris leaves his mate alone in the Forest House, telling her to trust no one but his mother. The two women are ill-equipped to provide frontline fighting, but surely they can help Eris in their own way. *companion piece to ‘Cold was the steel of my axe to grind’

Hell was the journey but it brought me Heaven - in the immediate aftermath of Beron’s death and the thrum of power in his veins, Eris’s mate forces him to, at the bare minimum, bathe

Secret exchanges - a few weeks after the aftermath of Rhys’s banishment, your mate, the new High Lord of the Autumn Court, has a secret meeting with someone from your family.

Blood moon in Autumn - fae cycles are no joke, but your mate is always there to provide you comfort in the best way possible: by being your personal heating pad

Have I found you, flightless bird? - a reflection of a life of secrets and expectations and how, despite it all, a flightless bird found home in an unlikely place

Ferocious beasts with soft bellies - Eris’s hounds know you’re pregnant before either of you do, driving the two of you wild with their newfound devotion to you.

Starfall in Autumn - based on the prompt for Starfall week “characters a and b realize they won’t make it to Starfall. They make the most of what they have to celebrate”

Laborious anxieties - Eris is riddled with anxiety leading up to your labor, but what happens when some of his worst fears come to fruition?

Cursing my name, wishing I stayed - your relationship with Rhysand had been icy at best, but your attempts to reconcile are quick to be shot down. A rash decision leads you to endangering your life - can Eris find you in time? Can he save your infant son?

Amber eyes, looking into mine - Eris finds something in his study that triggers him into a frozen state of panic. Who better suited to pulling Eris from his past than his future?

We started alone, in the end we’re okay - on a rare night alone, Eris reflects on his long life and the lonely nights that haunted his youth. And how he’s a long way from the person he was and the person he had to be.

Fireling - every father’s dream is to be there the day his son first uses his powers. Luckily for Eris, he gets just that.

Let’s play restaurant - your son’s version of playing is confusing, but Eris is surprisingly good at any games he wants to play

How the kingdom lights shine just for me and you - Eris tells his sons a story, letting them know how a strong knight defeated an evil dragon and saved the kingdom.

Loving parents, harmless fun - Modern!Gingerfucker - slice of life where Eris takes his family on a roadtrip and is only slightly annoyed at his son’s choice of car game

* = smut

[sesmiq]

the fake princess

pairing: reincarnated male reader x yandere prince oc

fic includes: arranged marriage, cross dressing, reader's death (briefly mentioned), Dom to sub bottom male reader, rough sex, rimming 2x, gruwhdbwb will add more in the morning

note: THIS IS NOT FINISHED!! tumblr is rlly messing me up by posting my work earlier whenever i save my draft lol. feel free to read as i write the ending. reader is male! a male!! a certain character will be calling him "lady" for the plot!! i wont spoil much but please keep that in mind ;; this is messy lmao

poor you were just on the way back to your apartment after a barbeque party with your friends— until a drunk man grabbed you from the dark alley way and stabbed you in the stomach and pussied out after he realized what he did.

is this how you die? fuck, he couldve do you a favour by taking you out in one go and not run away?? loser behaviour.

you laid down in your own blood in the dimly lit alley way, your vision slowly getting blurry as your surrounding turns into a blur of colours and into nothing.

before slipping into darkness, you heard a loud voice shouting out your name. its too late, bootlicking shitfuck.

you opened your eyes by the sound of bird chipping, you stared up at the bright blue sky accompanied by someone with dark brown hair and green eyes staring back at you.

"Lady Amador.. it's time to go back to the palace. the prince is looking foward for you during lunch time."

who the fuck is lady amador, and why are they wearing a maid outfit?

sitting up, you take note of the grass underneath you instead of the rough concrete floor from earlier- are you hallucinating to the point youre in this nice garden..? huh, why are you wearing a dress, did a creep kidnapped you and dress you in one of their grandma's dresses?!

panicking, you got up towards the pond and looked into your own reflection. you still looked the same as before, you cant say the same since your hair looked much longer and the light makeup on your face.

lady amador.. prince?? garden.. holy- is that a palace behind you?! whats going on?!

before you could brainstorm any longer, the person from earlier waved their hand in front of you, catching your attention. "lady amador, its time to go. prince sebastian is looking for you."

prince sebastian? sebastian..

slowly, everything clicked to you, did you really reincarnated as one of the characters in the novel "The Villainess's Ultimate Plan!" holy shit.

you touched your face, and then looked into the pond again, that face..

the villainess younger brother?!

the one who disguised as the protagonist.. the one that planned the entire scheme to assassinate the crown prince but end up getting beheaded one day after the wedding night?!

with that information, your vision fade into black once again.

"My lady?!"

jerking awake, you hunched over, clasping a hand against your face. you slowly takes a few deep breathe, you slowly brought your hand away.

you looked to your side, the same person from earlier is standing next to you with a worried expression. not only them, a man with bright gold hair is sitting on a chair nearby reading a book.

prince fucking sebastian. the man that you're supposed to kill during you and the prince's wedding night.

he looked up from his book and walked up to you, you flinched away when he raised his hand, he stopped his action before he promptly caressing your face.

"you, please step out of Lady Penelope's room." he ordered the person (the maid maybe?), and they complied.

there was an awkward silence in the room, he was still holding your face, you looked at the side, scared to hold any eye contact with the man in front of you.

"look at me." he said in a stern voice, like a mom scolding her child.

so you did, afraid of any consequences. (since he was the same man that's willing to destroy the kingdom for your supposed sister.)

he let go of your face before sitting onto the side of the bed, his face is blank,, as if he dont care about you, but the worried tone in his voice said otherwise.

"y/n." you jumped at the name, how did he know your name- wasnt he supposed to call you by your sister's name ?! before you can say amything, he cut you off.

"..i was waiting for you at the dining table, but i got the news of you fainting in the garden right after waking up from your nap."

"..i apologize."

he leans in towards you, settling his hands onto your face once again as if to inspect for any injuries, he lets go once again when he saw no visible injuries.

"i know you prefer to be called lady amador when it comes to appearing as your sister, but a maid was here, and i have to convince people we have a medium love with each other.

especially when our wedding night is two days from now on."

what. the story already started?! no- screw that, how did he know you were pretending to be penelope?!

"how did you know im not lady penelope?" you kissed your teeth, gripping onto the comforter, subtly slapping the prince's hand away when he tried to reach for yours.

"lady penelope had sent a letter to me, personally stating about her plan, and we agreed on one term: i keep you safe and she sends me information of the war, simple.

though, i shall say, youre quite the beauty."

you were about to curse at penelope but your ears becoming warm after he said that, he chuckled before getting up of the bed.

"most married or engaged couples have monthly night together, and ours is two night from now on. we wont do anything sensual, do not worry."

"what-"

"see you tomorrow at lunch, dear." he kissed you on the forehead before walking out of your room.

for the next two days, you learnt the person at the garden is your personal maid, Andrea. apparently she found you laying on the ground at the garden (that sebastian built for you.) after you stated you were gonna take a stroll.

you also met your personal knight, William, Penelope's second love interest but was sadly killed when he defended you during your trail.

the three of you got along well, often seen having conversation near the garden or having tea party together. sebastian watched from his office and smiled at the sight of you chatting with Andrea.

william on the other hand,, have been too close to you for his liking. he nearly ripped an important paper when he saw william wiping off some biscuit crumbs from your face- why is he so touchy? Andrea couldve done that using a napkin.

he broke his pen, the black ink soaked his hand and his paper work. did you like damian better than him? why did you become flustered when the knight spoke about something?

should he get rid of him?

how troublesome.

he remembered when a butler and notify him what happened to you. he nearly tear down the entire palace when you didnt wake up for two hours he almost frown when you flinched and move away from him when he reach out to you. the way you were nervous around him,,

he slowly calmed down, reminding himself that you and his night together is tonight. he sighed, he should finish his work first then meet you tonight.

back in your chamber, Andrea and a few other maids helped you to get ready, even helping you to take a bath. you enjoyed the smell of lavender from the soapy water, an old maid massaged your body when you're just soaking inside the bathtub.

the old lady was kind enough to even offer you a drink as she tells you stories of her youth.

after that and when Andrea deemed you 'clean', began to dress you into a white night gown made with the finest silk, the strap of the grown barely hanging on your shoulder. the maid had explained that you have to wear this because 'the prince gave the gown as a gift.'

was he not shameless when his gift includes a set of lingerie?!

you fidget around with the ring, Andrea styled your hair into a loose braid, making sure you look presentable before leading you to the prince's chamber. you insisted that you walked by yourself, so she went back to the maid headquarter.

walking down the dimly lit hallway, no one is wandering except for a few knight patrolling. you soon arrived in front of his room, knocking a few time to make your presence known "sir sebastian-"

before you could finish, sebastian opened the door and grab you by the waist, dragging you into the room.

he lifts you up and carries you to the spacious bed, he gently laid you down and take a whiff of your scent before mumbled out a "you smells nice.."

you looked at him with wide eyes, he was only wearing a robe- your eyes wonders down and sees his toned body that he had clearly worked on. he noticed you and grinned, taking your hand and putting it on his chest

"like what you see?"

if you could kill him right now you would.

instead, you pushed him down the bed, him lying down on the bed and you on top.

"what if i do?

also.. i will be the one in charge tonight."

you leaned down, opening his robe hastily and take one nipple into your lips.

sebastian nearly flipped you over, but he held himself back. he moaned when you grinned onto his crotch, he lightly tugged your hair, leaning in as if asking for a kiss.

you gave him what he wanted, he softly moaned into the kiss, slowly his hand make its way towards your shorts, pulling it down your ankle before he pulls away from the kiss.

he sat up against the bed frame and settled you on his lap, he took in the sight of you wearing his gift- that he had commissioned for it to fit you, and god.

you are so pretty.

hair messy from the kissing session, the collar of the gown was low enough for him to see the lacey bra, a garter designed with silver lining tightly wrapped around your thigh and the underwear that only covered your erected cock-

he want to eat you up,,

so he did.

Sebastian was known to be a beast in bed as he was known in the battlefield,, was what the novel described him.

Unfortunately they were true to their words, his thrust was harsh and deep, creating impacts thats enough to make you cry out.

so much of being gentle?! he even ripped off your outfit, leaving you naked!

he was nice enough to eat you out earlier, even giving you to opportunity to ride his face.

sebastian continue with this harsh pace, holding one of your leg onto his shoulder while another holds your hand. his apologized multiple times while grunting, saying things likes

"im sorry- ah! youre so tight!"

"mm- if you keep moaning like that- hng! i wont be able to slow down-"

"dear.. mmh.. im sorry.. i'll take care of you later-!" im gonna kill you, you handsome bastard!!

you clung onto him on each thrust, it just feel so-! sebastian suddenly changed the position, pushing you on your knees while holding your arms at the back,

"se-sebasti- ah! wait-! mngh!" he holds your hand behind you back tightly to ground you, the position didnt help at all, you couldnt muffle your moans and his dick reach deeper than it did in the previous position.

he panted, letting go of your arms fearing that your arm is sore. he gave an apologetic kiss on your forehead before continuing .

he grunted when you tighten around him, he tried to sooth you by giving stroking your cock, but that only add to the pleasure as you cried out of overstimulation.

you felt like you were melting.

you had climax into sebastian's hand, fuck- why isnt he stopping-?! you continued to cry out before he stuff his finger with your cum into your mouth, you immediately bit onto his fingers to muffle your moans.

his climax came sooner than you expected, he twitched and came inside. he slowed down his thrust, riding out his climax before pulling out.

you panted, thinking its over,, until sebastian gripped your aas and spread them apart revealing your winking hole, dripping out his children batter.

without hesitation, he dive in as if its his last meal, slurping and eating his own cum. you moaned at this, trying to push him away but he stayed still.

"what are you-"

"round 2? gotta have heirs for the future y'know.." he said with a toothy grin, flipping you over your back and pressing you thigh until your ankle reach your chest.

"ah?!"

the knights guarding outside sebastian's chamber looked at each other then looked down, the two of them had an erection from your moaning- tone it down sometimes!

a/n: not proud with this one, will check and edit it in the morning (its 3.56 am right now) goodnight ^_^

[evilminji]

You know all those Cults in Gotham?

Bet at least ONE of them could spring for both a Legit Magic User and a Cloning pod.

Because The Wayne's? Hearts of Gold. Long standing pains in the asses. Probably the only thing standing between this gods forsaken wasteland of a city and Their Dark Lord. For GENERATIONS no less!

It's sooooo obnoxious!

So they want to Curse Um dead. Just a good ol fashioned bloodline curse. Destroy um from within, etc. BUT! To do THAT? You kinda need a blood relative to sacrifice!

And Bruce is... well... rather infamously An Orphan With No Biological Kids (at that point).

So? What do you do? Make one, obviously. You send in some of your own on a Holy Mission. Honeypot that playboy! Get us a kid to sacrifice! Our God will reward you etc! But... FFS! What? Are brunettes not your TYPE or something?! Pretty lady! Throwing herself at you!!

TAKE THE BAIT!

But he DOESN'T. Because he's both really used to that behavior, as The Wayne Heir and a False Playboy, AND because? He's fuckin Batman. He can see through your schemes.

Okay.

Okay!

Plan B!

Get us some DNA. We'll CLONE the sucker. That should be doable, right?

........OH COME ON! How?!

Batman: [REDACTED] / Cultists: 0

Fuck it! This is impossible! How are we supposed too... *eyes drift over to the Wayne Family Private Graveyard* .......Idea? Ideeeeaaaa~! Someone get us a shovel!

So they, cultist bastards that they are? Fuckin rob a grave for some DNA.

OBVIOUSLY though, it can't be one of the more RECENT graves! He probably VISITS those! Watches them! No we gotta be SNEAKY! Get one a bit further back! Mwahahahaha! We're so brilliant! Our God is gonna give us SUCH a Good Grade in follower!

A thing that is both REAL and possible to achieve!

So, while a Weirdly FURIOUS Batman? Is just... VIOLENTLY breaking ALL of their bones? Cultist 17 is furiously digging like his life depends on it. Either somebody snitched or Batman was hunting them down! Either way?

Gotta! Get! That! DNA!!! *digs faster*

Ah HA! Got it!

Fucking SCATTER! Run you fools, RUN!!! *everyone bolts*

And AT LAST! They have it! Wayne DNA! Now? Pop that sucker into the machine and make us a baby! Too sacrifice! *relieved noises* Man, that was hard work you guys. But we DID it!

Except??

Theoretical Babies? And "Real, slowly forming in front of me and becoming a human child" type babies? VERY DIFFERENT psychologically. It's ONE thing to sacrifice a HYPOTHETICAL baby... but when you're the guy running and monitoring the Cloning machine? Watching it slowly form and come together into... into a CHILD?

You start asking questions of yourself. Of God.

Of what, EXACTLY, you are willing to do.

What lines you find yourself unwilling to cross.

And yeah, your life was SHIT before the cult. Yeah, you were alone. Adrift. Without purpose. Angry at the world for all of its ugliness and failings. But... sitting, alone, in a dark room? Nothing but the steady hum of machines and the cool light of that pod? You are left with nothing but time... and your thoughts.

And the baby.

The one... the one YOU made.

Almost... he's almost like a son, in a way. Your son. Floating there, innocent and unknowing. Destined to be born, only to die painfully, for a cause he could not even begin to understand. Because he's too young. Too small. Just... just a baby.

The baby YOU made.

Doubt seeps in like mist. Creeping into the cracks forming in your faith. Surely there's another way, right? Why not save up for a better magician? Or... or hire a hitman? Why involve a child? Surely... surely your God would not WANT this, right? Or if He did! Surely, he would want the boy to be able to CHOOSE, right? A noble sacrifice, for the cause?

The pressure builds. Batman is tearing the city APART looking for your fellow Believers. Leadership is pressuring you to get "It" ready all ready.

He's not an "it".

They are dismissing your questions. Threatening and posturing, as you grapple with your faith. Where? Where is the COMMUNITY that you joined? The camaraderie? Every day, Believers are being torn down. The faith has lost so many!

How can this be WORTH it?

Your faith is slowly, cruelly, strangled in your chest. A death, by ten thousand silences, and ten thousand more cruelties.

Your son is ready.

You do not tell them.

The Clone of Bruce Wayne's great-grandfather is small, but healthy, in your arms. A tiny warm body, with a strong beating little heart. You call the police. Leave your phone, call running, on the desk. No one thinks to stop you, as you calmly walk out the back door.

Why would they doubt?

You are Faithful.

You drive. Pray to a God you have lost faith in, beg forgiveness for what you do now. Your beat up old junker of a car makes decent time, as you leave Gotham. Your son, asleep in a carefully made nest of blankets, on the seat next to you. You drive. You keep driving.

Past towns.

Past cities.

Out of the state.

Stopping only to feed your son and fuel your car. You... you can not bring yourself to care about what will happen to you now. You know they will find you. Know this is the end. But something ancient burns in your chest. A caring you never thought was REAL.

You are afraid.

But you will not let them harm your son.

Finally, a town. Far from Gotham. Quite and cheerful. It calls to you.

Here. It... it has to be here.

You find the hospital. Tears choking you. There is a place to drop of children. You've seen them before. How strange, that now you stand before it and HURT. Your arms not listening to your command. You... you have to do this. You HAVE too.

He is just a baby.

He is your son.

You have to keep him safe. And... and that can not be with you.

You gently put your baby boy into the drop off. Press the buzzer. And then? You make yourself walk away.

Get back in your car, and drive. The gun in your glove box will insure they can never pry from you, what you have done. Where he is. He is safe now. He has to be. You... you did your job. As his father. You made sure he was safe.

You can barely see the road, through your tears.

You take your secrets to the grave.

And Danny? He grows up. Is adopted young and never knows different. Both a Fenton and a Wayne. Knowing only one of these, to be his. But... that Wayne? Was a damn fine man. A pillar of his community and a champion of the people.

Got tossed more then a few blessings, in his life.

They weren't the STRONGEST. But they added up. And more importantly? Were hardly the refined magics of the more powerful. They were cast onto "Him". By blood and bone, more often then not. Which was all well and good!

When there was only ONE of "Him".

Cloning technology did not exsist. So why would you word carefully against it? Danny becomes a VERY lucky boy. Survives many things he should not. In fact, the kindness and hard work of his original? Gifted back in magically powered well wishes? By this, he survives something NO ONE could possibly expect him too.

It saves his life.

His template would be quite pleased, knowing that. That his life of good deeds, saved the life of the child he never got a chance to meet. That it protected his children, from even beyond death.

And in Gotham? At long, long last. The program Bruce made in his helplessness and despair, to search EVERY child until the child made of his bloodline was found? Spits out a match.

A Watchtower engineer.

Daniel J. Fenton.

@hdgnj @hypewinter @lolottes @babbling-babull @nerdpoe @mutable-manifestation

[erp-software-1]

Digigold scheme software :Key Tips for Business Success

Regularly Update and Maintain Your ERP

Using outdated software may result in reduced efficiency and increased security risks. Schedule regular updates and maintenance to:

Access new features.

Improve system performance.

Protect against cyber threats.

[blackcat-star]

Lost Spirit.

Sung Jinwoo x Ghost Reader

« Chapter 6 ✭Chapter 7: Jinah's teacher.

________________________

"Where are we going?"

"To the bank. I need to check the amount of money I have, then we'll go shopping a little."

The first place Jinwoo and his friend went after leaving the house was the bank. He was curious about the money he got from the mana stones.

'I don't have the time to check it.'

Jinwoo left the management of the magic cores to Jinho. The boy said that the magic stones after each raid were sold out, and the money earned was transferred to Jinwoo's account. But he didn't discuss the specific numbers.

'Jinho, this kid. Always reports everything clearly. It seems like he doesn't care much about money.'

Perhaps it was also due to his life circumstances, but Jinho rarely cared about financial matters. The topics of conversation only revolved around raids, celebrities, music, or movies. It was the kid who started the conversation, but Jinwoo just nodded silently.

'Hmm, that's strange...'

Recalling the times he heard the 'storyteller' Jinho confide, the kid had never talked about his family.

Before he could think more, Jinwoo was already standing in front of the bank.

'Such a day...'

Today, all the ATMs were under maintenance.

Jinwoo and you couldn't do anything else. He picked a number and sat there waiting. Meanwhile, you kept complaining about how he had interrupted your revenge.

"Really, if you had let me play a little longer, I could have earned some more money for me."

Jinwoo's face was blank. "Really? It looks like you're constantly losing. Besides, where would shadow soldiers get money from?"

You laughed innocently, "Aren't they your soldiers? The money came from your wallet. As a good master, shouldn't you pay for them?"

Jinwoo: >:0????

"Not that easy!"

Finally, after a 'not too long' time, he was able to go to the counter. "Hello!"

A clerk with short hair and a bright smile. She bowed to him and asked back. "How can I help you?"

"Could you please take a look for me?"

"Of course!"

The clerk took the notebook from Jinwoo's hand with a smile. He looked around the bank while waiting. Even though it was a weekend afternoon, there were still quite a few people coming to do transactions. Meanwhile, the bank clerk was extremely surprised when he looked through Jinwoo's notebook.

'Oh my god!'

[Account Balance: 1,482,920,000]

She carefully read it again, counting each zero, yes, it was definitely more than a billion. And this book was not a savings book. According to the transaction history, all the money was earned in the past week.

'He's so young, how could it be?'

Jinwoo was also surprised that he could earn so much money.

Meanwhile, you looked at the amount of money Jinwoo had, your smile gradually losing its humanity. 'Hehehehehehehe, he's rich! I heard the food in the mall is quite good.'  You rubbed your hands together briskly, clasped your hands and made it look like you were formulating some kind of plan or scheme.

Suddenly, Jinwoo feels an icy chill run down his spine, an unease that settles in his mind and grips him with an icy chill. He had a bad feeling about something, related to his money.

Jinwoo turned to you, seeing your eyes looking at the passbook as if it were a piece of premium Wagyu beef sprinkled with gold and a 'free' flag.

"Y/N," he leaned in, his voice wary, "what are you thinking?"

You smiled, sweet as honey. "Nooooooo~ thinking nothing~ I'm just admiring your hard work!"

Jinwoo narrowed his eyes. "The kind of admiration where you rub your hands together like you're about to buy a three-floor mansion?"

"You're wronging me!" You clasped your hands together, then muttered, "But, a mansion doesn't sound too bad..."

"What did you say?"

"Nothing!"

Jinwoo sighed, taking the passbook back from the clerk who was still reeling from the numbers. "Thank you."

"Ah, yes, yes...have a nice day!" The clerk bowed quickly, thinking to herself 'He must be a hunter! Only hunters can make much money like that!'

Leaving the bank, you walked beside Jinwoo, your heart still as light as the sky.

"Jinwoo," you began in a coaxing tone. "I want a bank account too.."

Jinwoo looked at you, doubtful. "For what?"

"So I can be independent! Financially independent! Have a place to...to...send my monthly salary!"

"You don't work?"

"You can pay me!" you said. "I can support you when you fight, I'll clean your house, and I'll be your roommate and emotional manager for the shadow soldiers. Doing three jobs at once, no pay is against the labor law!"

Jinwoo: "..."

You: ":)))"

"What kind of labor law is that?"

"Law....Shadow Associate! Makes sense right?"

"..."

"No."

"Come on-"

"No."

"You're really... stifling the dreams of youth!" you said sadly.

"You're an adult!"

"Oh no, I'm the one who died but half alive again... but I still don't have my ID card, so you have to raise me!"

Jinwoo: "............"

Why don't I leave you in the tree?

____________________________

After failing to seduce Jinwoo, you gave up on your 'dream'.

"Can I at least buy something to eat at the mall?"

"...Just a little."

You saluted. "Yes sir."

After withdrawing the money, Jinwoo took you to a nearby shopping mall. At first, he only intended to buy a formal suit to meet Jinah's teacher. But things took a different turn from the moment you entered the first store.

He didn't expect that after he got a haircut and bought a new suit, your eyes would suddenly light up dangerously, forgeting your purpose of eating.

"You look so handsome!"

"...Thanks?" Jinwoo was a bit doubtful, instinctively taking a step back.

"Come with me!" - you pulled Jinwoo's hand and rushed into the fashion store chain as if you had a speed buff.

"Wait a minute, we're just going to buy one outfit and then go to Jinah's parent-teacher meeting-"

"No, since we're here, we have to try everything on!"

And so...

30 minutes later, Jinwoo sat absent-mindedly on the bench, next to six different bags of stuff. Jinwoo looked at the pile of bags beside him and then looked up at you – who was busy choosing another long coat, your eyes shining like LED lights from inside. He sighed.

"We have to go to Jinah's school," Jinwoo muttered, but you didn't seem to hear him.

You turned around, holding the coat and trying it on Jinwoo, tilting your head in thought. "Hmm, it's kind of outdated. Right? For a parent-teacher conference, you've got to dress a bit more formal."

"But we don't have to try on, like, eight coats."

"Don't be so stingy," you nudged Jinwoo. "We're living in the age of images. If the teachers see you dressed sloppily, they'll think Jinah isn't well-groomed."

Jinwoo was silent. It made sense. But that reason made him wait for another twenty minutes, with a total of twelve bags.

Finally, when you decided you had enough clothes, the two of you decided to leave the mall. Jinwoo lazily threw all the bags into his storage.

You walked beside him, singing and whistling like a free spirit, occasionally turning to look at Jinwoo with sparkling eyes.

"Are we going somewhere tomorrow?"

"No."

"We can call it bonding time! Like teammates!"

"No."

"Come on~"

"...I think I should buy some noise-canceling headphones."

You laughed loudly, then nudged Jinwoo's arm. "Nevertheless, you will listen to my words."

Jinwoo shook his head but the smile in his eyes was not hidden.

"Alright, I'm going to see how long I can last."

____________________________

Jinwoo stopped in front of a store when he saw his new reflection in the mirror. It looked pretty good. 'At the least, it assures no negative impression would be made or left behind.'

He glanced at his wristwatch, saw that the hands were at 4:20.

'Jinah told me to be there at 5...'

There was still plenty of time.

There was no need to rush, Jinwoo and his friend hailed a taxi and leisurely headed to school. Jinah was waiting for him in front of the gate.

"Hey Jinah!"

The girl didn't notice Jinwoo approaching.

"Oppa?"

Jinah stared at him with a bewildered expression.

"Excuse me, where's my oppa Sung Jinwoo?"

"Don't tell me you don't recognize your oppa?"

Jinah looked him up and down again and exclaimed with undisguised surprise.

"You look completely different!"

"So you think I'm wearing a T-shirt and slippers to meet the homeroom teacher?"

"Wow..."

Jinah was surprised by her usual simple brother. Then she noticed you standing next to him.

"Who is this? Oppa, do you have a girlfriend?"

Jinwoo hit Jinah on the head. "This is Y/n, and she's not my girlfriend."

You happily went over and held Jinah's hand. "I'm Y/n, nice to meet you! I'm Jinwoo's associate, and for whatever reason, I'm crashing at your place for a little while. Hope that's cool with you!"

Jinah smiled happily. "It's okay, I'm happy to have another sister. Living with my brother is not fun at all."

Jinwoo rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I'm going in first."

The two of you ran after Jinwoo. He had studied here 5 years ago, so everything was already familiar. Jinwoo knew that the meeting would take place in the conference room, not the homeroom teacher's office. He walked in that direction. His pace increased as he walked.

"Oppa, wait for me!!!"

Jinah also hurriedly ran after her brother.

"Hello, teacher!"

"Oh, hello!"

On the way, Jinwoo and you bowed to each teacher. But everyone was quite surprised when they greeted him back.

'Who is that?'

'Is that a former student? I don't remember there being such a student in the school.'

'Is he a new teacher?'

And it wasn't just the teachers who turned their heads.

"Whoa...so handsome!!!"

"Who is he?"

"Why is Jinah walking next to him?"

"Who is the woman that walks beside him?"

'...'

The whispers rang out. Jinah felt extremely excited. She listened to everything with a proud expression, then nudged Jinwoo's side with her elbow.

"Oppa, look at how everyone admires you!!!"

"Jinwoo is so famous" you teased him.

But Jinwoo didn't seem to mind.

"But don't betray Y/n unnie, or I'll hit you!"

Jinwoo didn't let the little girl off this time, he pinched her cheek. "I told you, Y/n isn't my girlfriend."

"Ah, I'm sorry..."

Jinwoo let her go. Jinah rubbed her red cheeks. You giggled.

While walking and arguing, they arrived. Jinah turned around before pointing at the room.

"It's here, oppa, unnie..."

As she was about to enter, Jinwoo suddenly turned to her sister.

"What about you?"

"Only the guardians and teachers are talking to each other! My mission is over here, goodbye oppa and unnie."

You wondered, "I can come in too?"

Jinwoo nodded, "It's fine, I can't leave you outside anyway."

"I heard that Jinah's brother is a hunter, right?"

Her eyes became serious.

"Yes, teacher!"

"If Jinah goes through the awakening stage, do you want her to become a hunter?"

"Definitely not"

Never.

Jinwoo answered decisively, and definitely without thinking. As if he had known the question and had prepared the answer. Her face fell slightly.

"As I expected..."

The teacher was hesitating, and Jinwoo gave her a skeptical look.

"Do you mind if I ask you for a favor?"

________________________

To be continue.

_________________________

Chapter 8 »

________________________

tag: @weaponxgames @sky2lar @snowy-violet @joannthebish @fackeraccount @tanspostsblog @perkypeony @ssolarsystm @winter-soldier-101 @delusionillusion3322 @o-qi-shisme @soft-dots @snowlycanroc

(let me know if I forget to tag anyone)

Everything I write is fiction and for entertainment purposes, please don't take anything seriously

[the-marshals-wife]

Betelgeuse and Astrid "Death" Parallel

I'm not sure what else to call this observation/rambling, but I've been thinking a lot about the events of Beetlejuice Beetlejuice, and on my most recent viewing, I noticed something super satisfying about this scene. You know, other than the obvious.

We all know Beej is not one to turn down a deal, least of all when it involves his own self-interest. And of course, it's very advantageous for him to rescue the daughter of the woman whose heart he's trying desperately to win. But there's another delicious layer to him being the one to personally dispose of Jeremy Fraizer...

Betelgeuse knows exactly what it's like to be manipulated by love, only to then have your life taken from you.

Delores manipulated him under the guise of love to steal his life (and his soul) to gain immortality, the same way that Jeremy pretended to care for Astrid so that he could ultimately take her life for his own.

It's think pretty accurate to assume that neither Delores nor Jeremy felt anything genuine for their victims. They were a means to an end. But where Betelgeuse had to defend himself on his own, unable to reverse what had been done, Astrid was not alone. While she was preoccupied with running from the afterlife authorities, reuniting with her father, and getting some much-needed family closure, there was someone else looking out for her.

Enter our anti-hero.

We don't get any direct insight into Beej's thoughts on the Jeremy situation, but it probably struck a nerve for him. He would never admit it, but how could it not? We already know he's privy to Rory's manipulation of Lydia and is eager to expose him, but this is not about a toxic, gold-digging relationship. This is literally life and death. It follows that he would be just as if not more upset to learn that a murderous wolf in sheep's clothing was trying to kill Lydia's daughter, especially given the nature of his own death.

(I mean c'mon, he used his one PG-13 ordained f-bomb on the guy. I think it's safe to say he felt pretty strongly about Jeremy's villainy.)

We all know how it plays out in the end, but I think it's rather poetic that Beej is able to avenge his 'would-be stepdaughter' and save her from a devious scheme very similar to the one that he fell prey to.

He couldn't get his own life back from Delores (though arguably he does, at least metaphorically, in the finale), but he was able to give Astrid back hers.

So there you have it. Now that I see the parallels, it's ten times more vindicating that Betelgeuse was the one that got to send that slimeball to hell. And let's be honest: Beej would probably agree.

[charliedawn]

A SERVANT’S DUTY Part V Emperor Geta x Reader

(A good dose of angst and also very emotional moments. Enjoy.)

The Senate chamber looked different that morning. The columns were still the same marble white. The banners still hung in deep crimson folds. But there was a feeling in the air—a taut string pulled tight between old stone and fresh breath. You stood near Geta as the new representatives entered—each wearing the formal robes gifted to them, a blend of their social standing and the Senate’s tradition. The farmer’s boots echoed against the floor beside the polished sandals of a merchant. The blacksmith’s calloused hands brushed against the silk sleeve of a minor scholar. And at the far end, seated with a soldier’s silent posture, was Marcus Acacius—out of chains, but not free.

Several seats were conspicuously empty.

The old senators had made their decision—boycott in protest. The chamber was a quieter place without their scoffs and grandstanding.

Emperor Geta didn’t seem troubled.

In fact, he stood before the chamber and looked across the half-filled circle. He turned slightly to you, a barely-there smile on his lips, and then to the assembly.

"Well," he said, his voice smooth and clear. "It seems that new seats just opened ?"

A few chuckles rippled through the new representatives.

He walked to the center. "This Senate was never meant to be a mausoleum. And if anyone wishes to stay locked in the past, they may. But we—we will build forward."

He paused. Looked around the room. Then straight at you.

"Let us begin."

And just like that, the balance of power shifted. Not with blood. Not with war. But with chairs—empty ones—and the courage to fill them. You exhaled slowly, your fingers curled around the edge of your scroll. The work had only just begun.

The chamber was alive—not with scheming whispers or power-posturing, but with something rarer. Genuine dialogue.

You sat quietly in your newly appointed seat, taking in every voice, every posture, every shift of tone. The representatives, though lacking in the polished airs of the old guard, brought with them something much more vital—experience. Grit. Truth.

The farmer representative—a weathered woman with sunburnt cheeks and broad shoulders—stood first. Her voice carried without needing to shout.

"Your Highness," she said, bowing her head slightly toward Geta, "the grain shipments you’ve allowed…they came just in time. You saved our children’s winter."

A murmur of agreement passed through the chamber. The merchant, dressed in soft layers of blue and gold, nodded eagerly when she finished.

"I never thought I’d be seated in this hall," he said, smoothing his beard, "let alone welcomed. My thanks, Emperor, and to your senator." He gestured subtly towards you. "To be asked what the market needs, rather than ordered…that is a change long overdue."

One by one, they stood. The artisan with ink-stained hands and clever fingers. The physician with eyes that had seen far too much sickness and not enough funding. The artist, younger than the rest, but with words like knives carved from silk. Each gave thanks, brief or poetic, and then offered suggestions—requests for fairer pay, safer roads, medical access in the border provinces, restored theaters.

And then silence.

You glanced toward Marcus Acacius.

He hadn’t moved once. His posture was straight, military. His hands rested calmly on his knees. But his eyes—they were alert, watching every speaker, every shift of expression from Emperor Geta. You’d half expected him to interject or disrupt.

But he said nothing.

Even now, as all eyes turned to him with anticipation—no one daring to ask but many silently wondering—he did not rise.

Not yet.

You narrowed your eyes. There was no defiance in his stillness. No bitterness. Just restraint. Calculation. And, perhaps, patience. The silence he carried felt like it had weight.

Emperor Geta noticed too. The Emperor leaned forward just slightly, curiosity edging his expression—but he said nothing. He would not press. Not yet.

You folded your hands in your lap, gaze flicking between the others, but returning always to Marcus.

The meeting continued.

But the silence at Marcus’s seat rang louder than any of the voices that filled the chamber.

Finally, he spoke up.

"Where is Emperor Caracalla ?"

The room fell into a deep silence, the kind that felt like the air itself was holding its breath.

Marcus Acacius’s question had cut through the fabric of the meeting like a blade. Where was Emperor Caracalla ? It was the unspoken truth that everyone had danced around, a question no one dared utter aloud. Emperor Geta’s gaze briefly flickered toward you, his expression unreadable, and for a moment, you wondered if he was about to slip. But he recovered, his face hardening as he spoke.

"My brother was called away," he informed them, his voice even, but his eyes were dark with silent rage at Marcus’s question. "More pressing matters. He won’t be joining us."

There was a shift in the air—subtle, but undeniable. You could feel it, a change in the dynamics of the room. The senators had already heard whispers—of course. Caracalla’s temper had always been notorious, and the rumors of his more…violent tendencies had long reached every corner of the Empire. No one truly believed that a man so driven by his lust for power would simply disappear without consequence. And yet, no one dared speak it openly. Marcus Acacius, however, was not like the others. His voice, when it came again, was calm, but laced with something sharp—something probing.

"More pressing matters, Emperor Geta ?" His eyes narrowed slightly as he studied the young man intently. "Is this a matter of health or of…something else ?" He paused, letting the unspoken question hang in the air. "It is rather strange to see an emperor, one so committed to his seat, disappear without warning. One might wonder if he was forced to…step aside."

Your eyes widened. What was this imbecile doing ?! Asking such a question ? The entire room leaned forward, eyes shifting between Geta and Marcus. You could see the flicker of discomfort in Geta’s posture, a tightening of his jaw, but his voice remained steady.

"That is no concern of yours, Acacius," he finally replied, the tone firm, though a flicker of something darker crept into his words. A warning.

Marcus’s lips curled slightly—whether it was a smirk or a silent acknowledgment, it was hard to tell. But there was no question in his eyes now; he knew something more was at play here. And so did the room.

You could almost feel the collective breath held by the senators. They had all been waiting for a crack, a moment of weakness from either Geta or Caracalla. They’d expected it, perhaps even hoped for it. It was clear now that something had shifted, something far deeper than a mere absence.

Geta’s gaze flicked to you once more, but this time, the look was unreadable. You looked away…Perhaps allowing Marcus Acacius to step inside the Senate so soon had been a slight mistake on your behalf.

You cleared your throat, breaking the silence. "Perhaps now is not the time to speculate on absent matters, Representative Acacius. There is much work to be done here after all."

The representatives of the various classes understood the message and continued to speak their piece, but there was an undercurrent of unease in the room now, as though everyone had suddenly realised how precarious things truly were. The question of Caracalla’s absence still lingered like a shadow in the corners of the room.

Then, as you interrupted the flow of the discussion to steer it back to a practical issue, Marcus Acacius, who had been watching the exchange between you and Geta with much interest, turned his attention to you.

"And where did you come from ?" he asked, his voice cool but edged with suspicion.

The room fell silent again, all eyes shifting toward you. You could feel the weight of his gaze, sharp and calculating. Marcus had always been known for his insight—an intellect as dangerous as his military strategy. He had not missed a single detail, and the way he’d scrutinized every word of the exchange had left him with one lingering question.

You met his gaze without hesitation, your expression unreadable, the silence stretching just long enough for the tension to grow thick.

"Does it matter, General Acacius ?" you asked calmly, your voice cutting through the silence. "Some things are best left unspoken, no ?"

The room seemed to hold its breath again, as Marcus’s sharp eyes flicked to Geta, and then back to you. He didn’t speak immediately, but his lips twitched, as though considering his next words carefully.

"Is that so ?" Marcus replied finally, his voice now tinged with amusement, but the glint of suspicion never left his eyes. "Interesting. The Emperor’s closest advisor…or should I say, friend…suddenly appears from nowhere to direct the course of this Senate ? And I thought this council was made to share the truth and nothing but the truth. What is your truth, Senator Y/N ?"

You raised an eyebrow, and before you could speak again, Emperor Geta stood, his presence commanding the attention of the room once more.

"Enough, Acacius," he seethed. "No more questions about the past. We move forward from here."

Marcus glanced at Geta, sizing him up for a brief moment before finally nodding, though his eyes still lingered on you, calculating. He had said his piece, but the question had been planted—and with it, the seeds of suspicion were sown. You, however, remained unfazed, the mask of composure never faltering. You could see the wheels turning in Marcus’s mind, but for now, you knew that all you needed to do was play your part—and let the Empire continue its slow transformation.

A few hours later

The room was emptying quickly, the clattering of armor and boots echoing down the marble halls as the Senators and Representatives alike filed out. The low hum of murmurs from the remaining representatives faded as the doors to the chamber shut behind them. Emperor Geta, in a rare display of discomfort, left in a hurried exit, his face a mask of unease after the mention of his brother’s absence. His departure felt rushed, an abrupt shift in the atmosphere.

You watched him go, but your attention was quickly drawn back to the man who had yet to leave the room: Marcus Acacius.

The guards were about to escort him back to his cell when you raised a hand, signaling them to stop. The clank of armor halted, and their gazes shifted between you and the ex-general. With a brief glance, they gave a silent nod and stepped back, leaving you and Marcus Acacius in the large, echoing Senate hall. Marcus stood at the far end of the room, arms folded, his face still hard and unreadable. But his eyes, those sharp eyes that had seen so much, had not softened.

You moved closer, the silence stretching between you as you considered him.

"I thought we might speak."

He looked at you, his posture shifting slightly, though he didn’t take a step closer. "Speak ?" he asked, his voice laced with a quiet amusement, but there was an edge there. "What could you possibly want to speak to me about ?"

You met his gaze firmly, not backing down from the challenge in his eyes. "Your question, General Acacius," you reminded him, taking a half-step forward, "about where I came from. I could ask you the same, you know. Not because I doubt your skill—you earned your rank with blood and strategy, with victories that sing your name across provinces. Conquest after conquest, blood earned and battles won. You did betray your Emperors, but I will not ask about your reasons. Because we both know…the past is only useful when it serves the future."

A flicker of something passed through his eyes—anger, perhaps, or even a spark of respect—but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. "A fair point," he conceded, though his tone was still cool, indifferent. "But I asked the question because I have my suspicions. I have been around power long enough to know when it is being manipulated."

"And you think I am manipulating things ?" You raised an eyebrow, the corner of your lips curling slightly. "Do you think I am playing some game with Emperor Geta ?"

Marcus studied you for a long moment, weighing his words carefully. "Not with him. No," he finally said, his voice quieter now, thoughtful. "But there’s something about you—something that doesn’t quite fit. You’ve saved him, and now, here you are, guiding the Empire’s future. It’s too much, too quickly. And that raises a question I’m sure others will ask soon enough: what is your endgame, Senator Y/N ?"

You could feel the tension in the air shift as his words hit their mark. He was waiting, expecting you to flinch, to reveal something of your true intentions. But you didn’t.

"I’m here to build, General Acacius," you told him with a smile. "Not to tear down. Geta is the Emperor. But he needs guidance, just as this Empire needs rebuilding. No one is perfect—not even him. And I think you, of all people, understand what it means to stand in the shadow of someone powerful."

Marcus’s gaze didn’t waver as he absorbed your words, his lips pressing into a thin line. "Perhaps," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "But no matter how much we build, the shadows always remain."

There was silence before he sighed.

"Do you really trust Geta ?" Marcus suddenly asked and your eyes widened slightly before you smiled again.

You didn’t hesitate. "I trust him with my life. And I trust him to change the Empire."

He narrowed his eyes at you and nodded slowly, though his expression remained guarded. "Then I suppose it is not my place to stop you. Just remember, even the best foundations can crack."

You held his gaze, knowing full well that he wasn’t just talking about stone and mortar, but the very heart of this Empire. You nodded.

"I’ll keep that in mind," you said quietly. "And as for you…you’re free to do as you will. But know this: you will do best to try apologising to Emperor Geta. Or you won’t live long enough to see this Empire we seek to build."

He looked at you for a moment longer, the weight of his years of service and betrayal hanging in his eyes, before he gave a barely perceptible nod. He knew your words were not a threat—but a reasonable advice.

"I will think about it. Let’s see how this plays out then," he murmured.

As the guards came back into the room to escort him out, you stayed silent, watching him leave the Senate chamber. Marcus Acacius might have been a traitor, but there was still something about him that demanded respect—something you couldn’t quite place.

…

The room was quiet, save for the faint rustle of the wind that slipped through the cracks of the ancient stone walls. The palace felt different now. The air felt heavier, as if every step taken within its halls echoed louder than it ever had before. You stood at the window, your hands resting lightly against the stone sill, gazing out into the courtyard below.

The memories of that day, so long ago, came rushing back with startling clarity. The image of you, scrubbing the floors—bare hands raw from the constant work, the dirt and grime of the palace now a distant echo in your mind. The fear in Geta’s eyes as he looked down at the angry mob outside, their roars deafening, their fury directed solely at him.

You remembered the dagger, its blade glinting as it had been thrust toward Geta, by his own brother Caracalla no less. You could still hear the words of Macrinus, offering you a bribe, promising you riches in exchange for your silence, a silence you had refused to give.

Now, the angry mob was gone. The palace was silent again, and so much had changed in the wake of those events. You had changed. You had risen from that moment, from the floor you had scrubbed with your hands, to where you stood now.

You unconsciously started rubbing the scar on your palm—the only proof you had left of the events that had occurred that day…

The wind blew gently, but you didn’t hear the footsteps that followed you. They were silent, deliberate. Only when Geta’s shadow fell across the window, casting a long silhouette behind you, did you finally feel the weight of his presence. He stood just behind you, yet he remained silent, watching you with a careful gaze.

You didn’t turn to face him immediately. Instead, you let the silence stretch for a moment, your thoughts still lingering on the memories of that day, of where it all began.

"It’s strange, isn’t it ?" you whispered. To yourself or to him ? You weren’t sure. "How things changed so much so quickly."

The breeze ruffled the strands/curls of your hair as you stood there, lost in the reflection of the past. You felt Geta move behind you as he followed your gaze and clasped his hands behind his back. There was something in the way he carried himself now—something that had shifted since you first met him…

Finally, his voice broke the silence. "I never thought I would be here," he confessed. "I never thought I would be the one to guide Rome on my own. To make decisions that affect the lives of so many. It was always meant to be me and my brother. But then…the disease touched him and…here I am."

You turned your head slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of him. The same man who had once stood before an angry mob, terrified for his life. The same man who had taken everything he could from those who tried to overthrow him. Now, he stood behind you—stronger, different.

But perhaps, still just as lost.

You smiled faintly, unable to hold back the thought. "I think you were always meant for the throne, Emperor Geta. You just didn’t know it yet."

He didn’t respond immediately, his gaze still fixed on you. But his silence said enough.

"I remember the day you were almost killed," you continued, still looking out the window, "and how you looked at me. It wasn’t fear of the mob—or even of the blade. It was fear of what came after." You paused for a moment, allowing the weight of your words to settle. "You had no one left, and you thought you would never have anyone to trust again."

Geta stepped closer, his breath warm against your neck as he leaned in. "And now ?"

You turned to face him fully now. "Now," you said, your smile faint but genuine, "you have me."

There was a quiet intensity in his eyes that made your breath hitch, you felt something unspoken between the two of you. It wasn’t the kind of power or control you both wielded now; it wasn’t about the Empire. It was something deeper, something born from the shared history, from what had been built from the ruins of what once was. For a moment, you both stood there, the quiet settling around you like a familiar comfort. The Empire, the Senate, all of it would continue, but this moment—this brief, fleeting second—belonged only to the two of you.

The silence between you deepened, and for a moment, time seemed to still in the presence of his words. The weight of the moment settled in, thick with meaning and unspoken truths. You felt the intensity of his gaze, the subtle but undeniable pull of the connection between you. Then, slowly, as if drawn by some invisible force, Geta reached for your arm. His fingertips brushed lightly against your skin, sending a ripple of warmth up your arm. His touch was gentle, almost hesitant, as if he were testing the waters, unsure of how his actions might be received. Yet, there was something undeniably intimate in his movements—deliberate and tender. With a soft, almost imperceptible smile, he guided your hand into his, the warmth of his fingers enveloping yours. Slowly, reverently, he lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of your knuckles.

He let your hand linger there for a moment, before pulling back slightly, his eyes never leaving yours.

"So far," he murmured, his eyes creasing a little as he smiled, "keeping you by my side was one of the best decisions I ever made."

The words hung in the air, their weight more profound than any political declaration, any law passed, or decision made in the Senate. They were a simple truth, quietly spoken but deeply felt. And for a moment, the Empire, the Senators, the struggles—they all seemed distant, irrelevant in comparison to the two of you, standing there in the quiet of the palace.

You smiled at him and he smiled back.

You then walked away together…his knuckles brushing against yours with each step you took. He would not take your hand—but it would always remain open for you.

…

A few days later

The warmth of a fever clung to you as you lay in your quarters, the usual sharpness in your thoughts dulled by the faint haze of illness. The bed felt unusually heavy, and even the lightest of movements seemed to drain more energy from you than you had expected. You had already sent a message to the council excusing your absence.

The hours passed slowly, and the gentle rustle of the wind through the curtains was the only sound accompanying your restless thoughts. You perhaps half-expected a brief acknowledgment from Geta, but not much else. After all, his duties as Emperor were demanding, and you were sure he wouldn’t have time for such a minor issue as your health.

That was, until you heard a knock on the door.

It was unexpected—no servant or messenger, but the familiar sound of someone who didn’t need to announce their presence.

You sat up in your bed to face the door just as it opened, and Emperor Geta entered. His usual imperial attire was absent, replaced by something simpler, more relaxed, as though he had abandoned his duties entirely to come to you.

"Emperor Geta ?" you murmured before rubbing your tired eyes, your voice weak, yet the sight of him brought a sense of comfort, despite the fever that had begun to make your skin burn. He stepped inside without a word, his gaze soft yet intense as it swept over you, taking in the sight of you in bed, looking less than your usual self. His brow furrowed, and without asking permission, he moved toward the bedside.

"You should have told me," he said quietly, though there was no anger in his tone—only a trace of concern that he couldn’t mask. He gently placed a hand on your forehead, testing the warmth of your fever. "This is serious. Why didn’t you send for me ?"

You swallowed, surprised by his genuine concern, unsure how to respond. "It’s nothing," you mumbled, though even you didn’t believe it. "Just a little fever. I didn’t want to disturb your day."

His lips tightened slightly, and without another word, he called for the healer who had been attending the palace. It was clear that his decision to cancel the meeting was final—his priority was here, with you, despite the weight of his responsibilities. As he waited for the healer, his eyes never left you, scanning your face for any sign of discomfort or pain.

"Rest," he commanded you with a soft sigh and started gently caressing your head. "I am not leaving until you feel better."

The words carried with them more than just a promise. It was a reassurance—one that settled in your chest. For the first time, the Emperor wasn’t just ruling the empire—he was taking care of someone he valued, and in his eyes, that was just as important. And as the healer arrived, Geta stayed by your side, the faint brush of his hand against yours comforted you.

The night was colder than usual, and when the healer left the fever that had been burning through your body left you shivering uncontrollably beneath the blankets. The chill in your limbs seemed to pierce deeper with every tremor, and you could feel the weight of exhaustion threatening to pull you under. Despite the warmth of the bed, it wasn’t enough to stave off the cold creeping through your skin. Your thoughts were foggy, and you tried to concentrate, but the fever seemed to cloud everything.

The door creaked softly, and you barely registered the figure that entered until you saw the silhouette of Emperor Geta in the doorway with a soup of some kind in his hand. His usual composure was replaced by a visible concern, his brow furrowed and his movements slow as he approached the bed. The soft glow from the candlelight highlighted the tiredness in his eyes, but also his concern.

"Emperor Geta," you whispered weakly, your voice still hoarse, "Please, do not come any closer. You will get sick."

You tried to push yourself further back against the bed, but the chill made it hard to move. You wanted to reassure him, but it seemed pointless. You had already seen the worry in his face, the way he was struggling to find the right words or the right thing to do in that moment. But instead of heeding your plea, he simply stepped closer and set down the soup. You thought he would leave then, but were surprised when he reached for the blanket, pulling it aside before sitting next to you on the bed. His gaze was steady and focused, he was clearly making a decision in his mind. Without a word, he finally moved to lie beside you, his body pressing gently against yours to share warmth, offering more comfort than words could.

You flinched slightly at the sudden closeness, trying to resist, but he was already there, wrapping his arm around you, pulling you back towards him. His warmth enveloped you, melting away the chill that had taken over your body. The heat of his skin was pure bliss, spreading through you with each passing second…

"I am not leaving," Geta muttered softly, a vow he uttered in the dead of night. His breath brushed against your ear, sending chills down your spine. "You are not alone. You never will be. I will stay by you—in sickness or in health. Always."

Your heart raced slightly in your chest, partly from the fever, but also from the intensity of his words. There was no room for argument; the way he held you told you that he wasn’t just staying because he was Emperor. He was staying because, despite the vast responsibilities that weighed on him, you mattered to him more than anything else at that moment.

You finally relaxed into his embrace, your body warming under the heat of his touch. The fever still burned in your veins, but somehow, with him beside you, it felt bearable. The cold tremors slowly began to subside, and you found yourself drifting, no longer fighting the fatigue. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat, the warmth of his body against yours, and the steady comfort he provided became a lullaby that soothed you into a light sleep…

…

The morning light filtered softly through the window, casting a gentle glow across the room. You stirred slightly, the remnants of the fever gone, but still wrapped in the comforting warmth that lingered. You didn’t remember falling asleep in Emperor Geta’s arms, nor did you remember him staying beside you throughout the night. Your mind was foggy, still caught between sleep and wakefulness.

In your drowsy state, you unconsciously snuggled closer, the warmth of his body feeling so natural, so comforting. His presence, though unusual, had become a source of solace, and in your half-consciousness, you allowed yourself to sink into that feeling without thinking. His steady breathing against your ear was reassuring, like a heartbeat that seemed to sync with your own.

You shifted slightly, your face pressing against the warmth of his chest, the sound of his heartbeat soft and steady beneath your ear.

But as your mind slowly cleared and your senses sharpened, something in the air shifted. You felt his presence more keenly now—felt the solid weight of his arm around your waist, his breath that brushed against your skin. It dawned on you with a jolt, like a sudden realization that had been lingering in the background.

Emperor Geta had stayed with you all night. The thought startled you for a moment, and your eyes fluttered open, now fully aware of the position you were in.

For a moment, there was an awkward stillness between you. Your heart skipped, your mind racing as you tried to process the closeness. Slowly, you looked up to see him lying there beside you, still asleep, his expression soft in the morning light. His features were no longer tense from worry or concern but relaxed, as if he had found some peace during the night. His arm remained loosely around you, holding you close. A part of you wanted to pull away, to put space between you both, but another part of you—the part that had learned to trust him—was content. You felt cared for in a way you hadn’t anticipated, and the comfort of that feeling outweighed any lingering embarrassment.

You let out a soft sigh, pressing your face back into his chest for a moment, briefly letting yourself forget the weight of the world outside the room.

After a moment however, you disentangled yourself slowly from his side, careful not to disturb his peaceful slumber. The gentle warmth of the night still clung to you as you rose and gathered your thoughts. Your mind churned with uncertainty: you had given so much of yourself to help him—guided him, supported him, stood by him in both triumph and turmoil—but deep down, you wondered if the man who had once needed you so desperately might finally grow independent. What if, in time, he no longer needed the steady presence you provided ?

Unable to shake the gnawing doubt, you wrapped yourself in a cloak and slipped away before the light of dawn could reveal your departure. You made your way through the quiet corridors of the palace, your footsteps echoing softly as you left behind the warm intimacy of your quarters.

Outside, the chill of early morning reminded you that change was in the air. You headed towards the temple of Hera—a sacred space that had always lent its quiet strength and wisdom to those in need of guidance. The temple, perched on a gentle hill overlooking the city, was renowned for its serene beauty. Carved from white marble and adorned with ivy and fragrant blossoms, it offered a haven from the clamor of politics and power.

Inside the temple’s cool, shadowed sanctuary, incense curled through the air like whispered prayers. Statues of Hera, the goddess of marriage and commitment, watched over you with solemn, compassionate eyes. Kneeling before the altar, you closed your eyes and let your thoughts spill out, all the doubts and unasked questions.

"I have given my all," you murmured softly, your voice echoing off the stone walls. "I have stood beside my Emperor…But what if my place, once indispensable, is no longer required ? What if he no longer needs me ?"

For long moments, only the soft sound of your breathing and the distant rustle of leaves accompanied your confession. You reached out and traced the smooth surface of the altar, as if seeking an answer through touch. You also left an offering on the pile that had accumulated over the years. In that silence, you felt the gentle pulse of the temple—a quiet reminder that even in times of uncertainty, the divine offered solace. Though no voice answered you aloud, you sensed that Hera’s presence was not indifferent. She embodied the strength of unions—both forged in love and in duty—and the wisdom to understand that every bond has its own pace of evolution.

A single beam of light broke through a high window, illuminating a carved inscription on the wall: In trust and time, all souls find their rightful place.

Your eyes widened at the cryptic message and your heart hammered in your chest. Perhaps what had started as necessity would transform into a deeper bond, or perhaps it would eventually fade into memory, replaced by new alliances. But for now, you had to believe that your worth was not measured by his need alone. It was in the strength of your conviction, in the power of your own light that you shone so brightly amidst the darkness.

You rose slowly, your heart steadied by this quiet epiphany.

You then promptly left the temple of Hera, a gentle smile on your lips—a silent promise to yourself that you would continue to build not only for the Empire but for the life you were forging, step by step, day by day. You returned to the palace, only to hear Emperor Geta enraged:

"WHERE IS SHE ?!"

You froze as you heard the sharp, unmistakable sound of Emperor Geta’s voice. You hurried back to the palace, stepping swiftly through the ornate halls, each step increasing the pounding of your heart. What could have happened to make him so angry ? You hadn’t been gone long—just a brief visit to the temple to clear your mind. Surely, it wouldn’t be for that reason that his voice raised so loud as to reach outside the palace’s walls…As you rounded the corner, you saw Emperor Geta standing in the middle of the hallway, his normally composed features twisted with agitation. Scared servants had their head down and were shaking as shards of broken vases covered the floor. His eyes locked on you, and the moment he saw you, his expression darkened further.

"Where have you been ?!" His voice was strained and his eyes glassy. "Do you have any idea what’s been going on in the palace ? I’ve had every guard looking for you. I’ve had people sent to every corner of the city. You just disappear without a word, and leave me to wonder—"

You stepped forward, trying to find the right words to calm him, to explain. But before you could speak, his eyes softened for just a brief moment, the anger in them fading, replaced by an unmistakable sense of relief.

"Where did you go ?" he repeated, quieter this time, though still on edge.

"I—I needed to think," you explained, your voice gentle, attempting to calm him down. "I went to the Hera’s temple to ask for guidance. Forgive me, my Emperor. I did not mean to worry you."

There was a long pause as Geta looked at you, his gaze searching, as though he were trying to understand—or perhaps find a lie in your eyes. Then, with a suddenness that startled you, he stepped toward you and reached for your arms, his fingers curling around your wrists as if afraid you might slip away again.

"Do not do that again," he told you and you could see how concerned he truly was as his hands were trembling. His eyes were full of emotion—concern, frustration, and something deeper that you hadn’t expected. "You think I do not care ? That I wouldn’t notice your absence ?"

You felt a pang in your chest, unsure of how to respond. You’d known him as a ruler, a man of authority, but never like this. This was the Emperor you had helped to shape, the one who had relied on you, who had entrusted you with his future. And now…he was afraid of losing you. You met his gaze, your heart racing as you gently pulled your wrists free from his grasp, taking a step back to create space between you.

"I am sorry, Emperor Geta," you apologised sincerely and raised a hand to your chest. "I truly did not mean to make you worry. I just wished to go pray at the temple. But I am here now, and I am fine."

His eyes searched yours, his expression torn between anger and the relief of finding you safe and sound. He took a deep breath, trying to regain some control over his emotions, but his hand remained stretched toward you.

"You belong here," he told you, or to himself. "Do not leave me…I will not allow it."

Your eyes widened as he suddenly marched towards you to embrace you tightly. You were clearly taken aback and it took a moment before returning his hug.

"I won’t leave," you promised, your voice steady and reassuring. "Not unless you want me to."

The anger melted away and after a few seconds, he stepped back and quickly turned away from you to discreetly wipe away a few tears.

"You do not know what you mean to me," he whispered and turned back towards you. His gaze softened, his lips parting slightly as he was searching for the right words. Finally, he exhaled slowly, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. "You mean everything, Y/N."

Your breath caught in your throat.

No title. No formalities. Just your name, bare and reverent on his lips.

He stepped toward you once more—slower this time, hesitant, as though he feared you might vanish again if he moved too quickly. His hand reached out, hovering near yours, before brushing his fingers against your knuckles.

"I thought I could control it," he admitted quietly. "This thing inside me—this rage, this fear. But I cannot. Not when it comes to you. You…contain my rage, you make me feel safe, you…complete me."

You watched him, stunned into silence. His shoulders, always so square and commanding, seemed to sag under the weight of the words he had long kept buried. The Emperor of Rome, ruler of legions, shaper of empires—was now just a man before you, desperate not to lose the one person who made him feel like something more than a crown and sword.

"I have faced betrayal," he murmured and closed his eyes, "treachery from my blood, from men who swore oaths to me…but none of it hurt like the thought of you disappearing from my side."

He paused.

"Tell me," he whispered, "Will you betray me too ?"

Your heart thundered in your chest, unsure whether it was the rawness of his confession or the fragile crack in his voice that unraveled you most. Slowly, gently, you reached up and cupped his face, your thumb brushing the dampness beneath his eye.

"No," you breathed. "Never, my Emperor."

He closed his eyes at your touch, exhaling as though he hadn’t allowed himself to breathe since you left. His hands came up to rest over yours.

"I do not want to be alone anymore," he confessed, a whisper against your fingertips. "I am tired of this weighing loneliness, my friend. I cannot handle another betrayal or treason. It would be too much. Too much…"

He opened his eyes again, locking them with yours.

"Stay with me, Y/N. I beg of you."

His thumb trembled slightly against your wrist, still waiting.

You didn’t answer right away. How could you, when the world had just narrowed down to the space between your two hearts? His gaze was still locked with yours, fierce and full of pain—of longing—and for a moment, the great palace around you fell silent, the weight of Rome itself waiting on your next breath.

You nodded, your voice trembling just beneath the surface of your throat. "I will stay. For as long as you need me, I will be there, my Emperor."

For a moment, the words hung there, suspended between you, fragile and sacred. You watched his expression shift—like stone thawing into flesh—as the tension in his shoulders slowly unraveled.

His brow furrowed, not with anger now, but with emotion he no longer tried to hide. And then—almost cautiously—he leaned forward, resting his forehead gently against yours. His breath mingled with yours, warm and uneven.

"You give me peace," he whispered, "in a world where peace is a stranger."

His voice trembled, and you weren’t sure if he was holding back tears or simply trying to not break in your arms. You felt his fingers tighten gently around your wrists.

"I do not want a throne if it means ruling alone. So stay," he repeated. "Not because I command it. But because I need you here—with me."

A single heartbeat passed.

Then another.

And you leaned into him, whispering, "I will, my Emperor. And not only because you need me, but because I want to."

His breath hitched, and his hand moved from your wrist to your waist, holding you like a man who had lost everything and finally found the one thing he could not afford to lose.

No more words passed between you after that. They weren’t needed. Not when his embrace said everything. But then, he sniffled and forced himself out of your arms.

"G-Get back to work. We have much to do. Come." He walked away promptly and…you didn’t dare question or deny him.

…

At the end of the day…

You sat quietly on the edge of your bed, the soft flicker of candlelight casting long shadows on the walls. Your fingers traced absentmindedly along the fabric of your sheets as you replayed Geta’s words from this morning over and over in your mind.

You mean everything.

What did that mean exactly ? You had spent so long by his side, watching him grow into the Emperor he was today. You had helped him rise into a greater emperor than anyone could have ever imagined, but this—this was different. The Emperor had always been composed, controlled, and distant. But today, there had been a rawness in his words, something profound that you hadn’t expected.

The weight of his admission settled heavily in the pit of your stomach. Did he truly mean it ? Could he have meant it the way you were starting to think ? As a ruler, he needed you—of course, that was clear. But as a man ? Did he need you in a way that went beyond the Empire ? Did he care for you in a way that transcended political necessity or gratitude for a life saved ?

You couldn’t deny the pull between you two. His touch had been tentative, yet full of yearning when he had held your wrist, his voice softer than usual when he had said those words.

You mean everything.

Those words hadn’t been like any other command or declaration you had heard from him. But what did it mean ? Was it a confession of love ? A plea for reassurance ? Or simply an acknowledgment of your importance to his reign ?

You let out a deep sigh and leaned back against the headboard, staring up at the ceiling. The room seemed to close in around you, the silence pressing down with the weight of the unanswered question. You had told yourself that your place was beside him—supporting him, guiding him. But now, the lines between loyalty and something deeper had blurred. The uncertainty gnawed at you.

You wanted to believe him, wanted to believe that he saw you as more than a tool, more than a pawn in his game of power. But after everything, could you trust that what you shared went beyond strategy and ambition ?

You rolled onto your side, curling up into the blankets. As you closed your eyes, the words echoed in your mind once more.

You mean everything.

But what did that really mean for you ? What did it mean for him ?

[hometoursandotherstuff]

I like this house's style. It's called "The Chateau Debris," was built in 1953 in Clarksdale, MS, has 8bds, 5ba, 4,562sqft, plus 2 guest houses, one called "The Gallery Cottage," & the other called "Meghan's House." All 3 homes come fully furnished! (Oh, I'd be in, if I had the funds.) $420k.

I enjoy a tour much more when I know that it comes furnished, and in this case, all the accessories and antiques, too.

That's a big fireplace. Very nice sitting room- beautiful leather camelback loveseat. Wondering if the guitars are included as accessories.

Large, but casual, dining room includes a jukebox. I love the long table under the window, too.

Long, vintage kitchen. The large unit with the glass doors and drawers looks original.

This is nice. It has a worn, old house patina to it. Look at the little door by the window.

Large bedroom with new flooring.

Renovated shower room has a serene ambiance with the black & gold color scheme.

Now, this looks like they made a bedroom out of the sunporch. They installed nice shelving along the wall and can still fit 2 nightstands.

Favorite bedroom. I've seen wallpaper exactly like this, but here it's actually the result of an unsuccessful attempt at stripping the paper and being saved by an "instant family" collection of portraits from etsy. (Pretty nice save.) Note the low-hanging single bulb over the bed.

This is a special bedroom that they call "The Sky Room." There are stairs to get into it, so I wonder what it was, originally.

Behind the house they have a rustic enclosed porch.

And, then off to the 1st guest cottage. Isn't this a cute little red house? I think that this is the one they call "Meghan's House."

It has a full living room.

Nice large vintage kitchen.

A bedroom and a bath. Not a fan of the bath enclosure, though. What is that?

And, this little blue house is the one called "The Gallery Cottage."

Definitely "The Gallery Cottage," look at the walls. Cool blue mirrored Art Deco coffee table. This is cozy.

Cute little vintage kitchen. This cottage has a laundry room, too.

Nice bedroom and shower room.

0.3 acre lot.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/111-Leflore-Ave-Clarksdale-MS-38614/233050897_zpid/

[phoenixyfriend]

Anakin's Pregnant and So Must Marry

So the other day I sent this message to a few friends and waited to see who would bite:

I want a "someone gets pregnant but it's a history/fantasy AU where the ONLY way to not become utterly destitute is to marry the person who got you pregnant (or marry someone willing to lie and claim they did it)" AU First thought is Rexwalker but I'm open to ideas

And I already shared the silly Bo/Din version with jebiknights here, but I alsodid a version with @threebea, and that's what this one is.

It's Rexwalker. Also Codakin? And Padme/Cody. And background Blyla. And Obi-Wan's the central figure of a spiderweb polycule.

Let's go!

Context is mostly this AU.

Bea:

Rex not getting him pregnant but claiming the baby despite the ungodly amount of complications it's about to involve for himself. Because he's a soldier and it means Anakin marrying down BUT marrying at all means he is spared being thrown out on the streets. On Rex's side, accusations of him gold digging and baby trapping Anakin, his father absolutely livid because either he has beef with the family or serves under Dooku or both. Anakin (at first) not WANTING Rex to make this claim. (it was an impulse to save him so there was no planning at all) Like develops into romance/lust later on but for now they are friends at best, and Rex has just taken on a lot on his behalf, and Anakin is the one that usually is throwing himself in front of bullets (or arrows or whatever).

help what if Anakin's got some Virgin Birth bullshit going on like Shmi

Oh Palpatine as Main Father Figure for Anakin too so you know there are some plots and schemes and anger happening because he had plans for Anakin. (Obi-Wan like his minder or guard or something who was actually doing more raising than Palpatine but has No Say about any of this.) Anakin: I did not have sex Obi-Wan: [panicking] Anakin I think we're past lying about it. You need to tell me who the father is (and I will fix this somehow I will fix this for you) Anakin: It was a virgin birth Obi-Wan: ………. (we're doomed.) Oh Dooku not a relation Dooku is the scheming vizier because those are always fun. Knows somehow Rex isn't the father and is trying to prove it, because if Anakin can't inherit he benefits.

This could be in that AU I've got where Anakin's all princess-in-the-castle who doesn't know if he has any REAL friends because most of his friends work for him somehow (tutor Obi-Wan, maid Aayla who is technically also spying on him, Padme is a lady of the court, Rex is his bodyguard, and Ahsoka works in the stables).

(The fantasy AU is trans-inclusive but also aghast at children out of wedlock.)

Also an option is the thing from the first season of Bridgerton where a soldier got someone pregnant and then went off and died in war, so his brother comes by and says that since his brother did this to her, he'll take responsibility and marry her himself.

Rex: Cody is the father Obi-Wan: (Well I know that's not true because Cody was fucking Padme, rip Cody) Rex: And as he's passed, I'll take responsibility. Naturally Cody returns just before the end of the 'season' to mess up the plan and suddenly he's supposed to marry Anakin and what is happening now?

Cody's ghost, if he were actually dead: Obi-Wan you know what threesomes are, right? You know how close Padme and Anakin are, right?

If Cody had known Rex had Feelings for Anakin then maybe he wouldn't have agreed, but Padme had thought it would be fun to hook up with Ani while Cody watched (it was the anniversary of Shmi's death, he's soooo sad, honey, what if we cheer him up?) and there was never supposed to be any PiV contact between Cody and Anakin, buuuuuuuuuuuut then they all got a little carried away and Whoops

Obi-Wan and Cody were pals they gossiped he would know. (Although he does get convinced. Maybe Cody didn't tell him because he knew Obi-wan would murder him himself.) Cody: I lived. I'm back from the war. What do you mean I'm going to be a father? (Oh no i got Padme pregnant and then just left her to deal with it?!?) Of course I'll take responsibility! Anakin: Um. So. Hi. Cody: Why's Skywalker here? lol I'm still on virgin birth (I just think it's funny no one is at fault but everyone has to deal.)

Obi-Wan: Anakin are you saying our lord in heaven (or whatever fantasy equivalent) impregnated you? Anakin: …..I mean… I guess it must have been? Which… kind of fucked up when I think about it actually Obi-Wan: (Anakin giving birth to the messiah wasn't on my bingo card, and yet somehow I almost believe it just because of all the grey hairs I'm about to sprout)

Padme swans in, grabs Ani and the Fett boys, and swans right off into a study to lock the door behind her so Obi-Wan can't get in. Then draws a curtain over it so noises are too muffled to get through the keyhole.

Anakin definitely assumes that Shmi, while deeply unhappy, was properly married to and impregnated by His Dear Father, Palpatine. Rather than some lady that got Magic Pregnant and then kind of abducted and forced into marriage so Palpatine could have the magic baby.

Until Dooku pulls Obi-Wan aside and has some Words about how uhhhhh nope. There was some weird magic happening. Old Man's A Sorcerer.

Obi-Wan: (OH NO) Obi-wan who didn't want this to happen and doesn't want to know any of this having to deal with the fact that not only Anakin MIGHT have a virgin pregnancy but also it might be magic

Oh hey, what if there WAS a threesome but the pregnancy timeline doesn't match up to it.

Threesome happens after Cody's return, just before Rex and Anakin have properly confessed and incites some jealousy on Rex's side, and some 'is it weird to be thinking of his brother while we're doing this' on Anakin's side. Padme: …. you really need to confess to Rex, Ani.

Dooku doesn't know the details of the magic but he can send a hawk to fetch the Wretched Hag Of The Woods Which was supposed to be Mother Talzin, but she didn't feel like it, so she sends Ventress instead. (Who of course brings her cousin, Maul, as her escort/chaperone/bodyguard (unecessary)).

He and obi-wan have intense sex in the middle of all this because both of them are stressed out for different reasons. Do they like each other??? who knows??? But do they have sexual chemistry and energy to burn? Yep

Dooku keeps trying to maneuver to get Ventress married to one of his nephews.

Ventress: [looks at Vos] that one. She will deign to have a threesome with Obi-Wan but once again sexual chemistry and they aren't going to let it get out to Dooku because they are NOT going to marry each other. Obi-Wan: I'll leave the nuptials to you two Between the stress sex Obi-Wan is doing an attack of the clones stuff where he's investigating plots, while the actual main focus is on the romance with Anakin and Rex, but every so often he pops in with something like: "Your mother had a virgin magic birth. Palpatine is a sorcerer. There's a plot to steal your inheritance." and then pop back out again meanwhile Anakin is pining and getting ready for wedding and feeling guilty he's dragged Rex into this

There is a visit from a Duchess of far-off lands that Obi-Wan is infatuated with but cannot leave the kingdom (and Anakin) for.

The main impact this has on the plot is that the Fetts are trying to avoid having to explain why their dad keeps getting into arguments with her while Obi-Wan does absolutely nothing to stop them, mostly egging the pair on.

And then Satine gets bored and decides to write Anakin's pre-nup.

hah secret 'royal or at least of suitable rank Fetts' that curve one of the many plots aimed at the couple wedding Jango: …. yeah I was Mand'alor for five minutes. Satine: I know you were >:) Jango: 😠 leave me out of this!

Obi-Wan has so many sexual relations and none of them are nearly as scandalous as Anakin's, probably because Obi-Wan himself isn't a royal.

Maul? Hate sex. Quinlan and Ventress? Longtime lover and his current partner sex. Jango and Satine? Both.

Obi-Wan is very into giving and receiving oral. Can't get anyone pregnant like that. Played for laughs just every chapter he's uncovered something and he's fucking someone else and the plot absolutely had no time for any of it. Anakin should notice but has way too much going on and does not think of Obi-Wan in relationships so just sort of misses it. Rex: …. (salutes. God Speed Mr. Kenobi) Like he gets that he's flirting. He picks up about Satine and Obi-Wan. But he doesn't think Obi-Wan has actually done something with impropriety.

Obi-Wan keeps telling them the Big Plot Stuff about AotC style intrigue, and the one that mentions to Anakin 'Oh yeah, I saw him leaving the bedroom of [important person]'

ahahaha Anakin learns about Obi-Wan's complex polycule Palpatine: I fear your tutor is sleeping with your soon to be husband. Anakin: (How the fuck would he have the time?!?!?) Rex: Yes, I did sneak into Obi-Wan's rooms. Remember. When I was sneaking into your rooms? And his room is how we get me secretly into your rooms? Anakin: …. oh right. When this is all done Obi-Wan claps Anakin on the shoulder, finally seen his charge married and happy and everything is good: Welp I'm going to go to the desert and live as a hermit. Anakin: I've made you my vizier. Obi-Wan: …has Maul left yet?

I think Anakin might STILL be assuming that most of those bedroom visits were either benign or Meant To Be Spy Things.

Satine is the one exception, he does assume that has the potential to be romantic intrigue.

Regarding Quinlan, he's just like "Oh, yeah, they get drinks sometimes! Besties!"

And the rest are clearly Obi-Wan trying to get state secrets.

He can see Obi-Wan having a grand monogamous secret forbidden romance. Anything else is gossip and slander and he will not have it.

Clearly he and Satine had tea and a single chaste kiss full of longing under the moonlight

Ahsoka: The real miracle here is that no one thinks Obi-Wan got him pregnant. Padme: I think that was a plot point at one point, but Ventress cut it off at the pass Ahsoka: It's hard to keep up with this… Bail: Won't anyone think of the governance of the kingdom? Padme: [pats shoulder] It's almost like the system we find ourselves working under is imbalanced and places too much emphasis on blood Satine: Oh wouldn't it be a shame if we had our own intrigue going on >:D Padme: ooooo let's draft some bills! [winks] Obi-Wan: Considering the amount of sex everyone gets up to [He can talk] the fact that we do have all this emphasis on bloodlines really isn't the best way to ensure a kingdom's leadership.

Cody, to Padme: Darling, please do not fuck my dad's situationship.

Padme: (but she's so pretty) Rex this chapter: I wrote a poem. Fox: You're absolutely fucked little brother. Rex: Help. Anakin: He wrote me a poem ;A; Aayla: Oh boy you're absolutely fucked (This is probably the period of which Cody is betrothed to him because of the misunderstanding of him not being dead and not having gotten Anakin pregnant.)

Aayla (a maid who is also a spy) and Bly (a member of the guard) are having an incredibly normal courtship in the background.

Everyone else is doing out-of-wedlock and Obi-Wan's polycule and possibly virgin births... and then there's Aayla, who just got a ring after eight months of flowers and polite flirtation, and will be getting married in two months after the appropriate readings of the bahns.

no stress or secrets at all Also in the background (given more emphasis than the Obi-Wan intrigue) are the Aayla wedding plans Anakin (who is worring about what and who and how his own wedding is going to go): oh that's nice TAT

Rex: Bly how did you do it? Bly: … I ?? I just… I courted her. And talked to Vos. And she said yes when I proposed. Rex: that doesn't sound right

Cody and Padme were either engaged or already married when he "died" at war, maybe? Padme can't publicly say it wasn't cheating because that would stain HER reputation, possibly irreparably.

Extra scandal, yes. Has to be some back room talks about this. Poor Padme, tho. Part of the early chapters everyone tinged with mourning. And the baby that is Cody's is a scandal, but also being used by the more schemy members of the court to cheer people up (for ulterior purposes). Oh maybe that's why Jango gets pulled to court: has to deal with the accusations on his house by house Naberrie. No one can be openly too negative because Anakin the prince is the one with child. But ALSO your son cheated and broke a marriage contract so you have to go and deal. Jango: I would rather die you can't make me do this [is dragged by Satine] noooooo Also Jango has to show up because his grandchild is potentially going to be heir of the kingdom. Jango: Satine please. Please just deal with it yourself. Have Alpha deal with it. If he wears a helmet no one can tell the difference Alpha: Nope. Satine: Stop squirming Jango mourns Cody in his own way, but also he had a lot of children and not much face time with them.

Bring along Bo-Katan, that's always good for some comedy of the stupid variety. "Bo, you can't propose to the stable girl, you hate this place and she doesn't want to leave, it'll never work."

(in the background of all the OTHER background stuff, lesbians!)

Bo: I'm coming too Satine: wait, you want to come? Why? Bo: …

She and Pre are trying to poison each other and it's getting to be a bit much.

Dooku: Why are so many mandalorians here? Maul: To fuck Kenobi would be my guess, at this point… Dooku: What? Maul: What? Ahsoka and Bo are working on the 'Cody is actually alive' intrigue Bo: I don't think my cousin is dead and you have a mind for mysteries (and also I want to spend time with you, but I really do think you'd be a big help here)

Ahsoka: Wait, you're cousins? Bo: Well I don't want to call him my nephew-in-law, he's older than me. Step-nephew? My sister's situationship's son.

Bo: at this point it's just easier to say cousins. It's about the same level of family familiarity Cody had a side adventure where Clovis put him on a boat to get rid of him or something, so he could swoop Padme, who was not having it. Bo and Ahsoka save him from being forced into conscription at sea or whatever. Obi-Wan does not want Ahsoka in danger, but also is just glad someone else is getting some work done around here other than him. Obi-Wan: I'm going to knight you Ahsoka: I'm a stablehand? Obi-Wan: When Anakin is king I'll tell him to, he'll listen to me Well, to be fair, the person on the purse strings of the kingdom is probably Bail, or else they would have gone under by now. Bail agrees to sex and then just sticks him in between Breha and him for an afternoon nap. Obi-Wan has his ways. Sex mostly. But also connections. And competence.

For the purse strings thing: Consider! Fox.

Obi-Wan: hmmm Fox: >:) Kenobi (you know you can't get past me) Obi-Wan: 🙂 Mr. Fox. Fox: [Suspicious] Obi-Wan: [Places Vos in front of him] Quinlan: Fox! Fox: Damn it, Kenobi! Just: Fox: HAH You can't use your methods on ME I'm incorruptible! Obi-Wan: [buffs nails] Don't worry darling I have people for this. Alternatively: Obi-Wan: Anakin would really appreciate you pushing these papers through Fox: [automatically] Sure. [Signs Palpatine's signature] Done. lol the Fett siblings are immune to Obi-Wan because they know he's in a situationship with their dad Alpha: (eh… I'd probably still do him.)

Alpha is the result of an Incident from when Jango was a teenager and grew up with very little respect for him as a father. Treats his own dad more like a brother because the age gap is fairly small, and Jaster did half the raising.

Rex: He gave me a violet, what does this mean? Ahsoka: Wait flowers mean things? Rex: Royals are always giving flowers to pass messages! Anakin: The blue reminded me of his armour ❤️ Obi-Wan: Aw. Blue violets also mean love and faithfulness Anakin: Wait what? Bo: I got you a flower. It reminded me of you Ahsoka: Oh ❤️ [who has been looking this up] Yellow rose means eternal friendship ha ha I love it [both of them crying and pinning inside at the misinterpretation] Ventress: [watching them] … I should say something. This can't go on. Obi-Wan: No, they'll work it out. I have faith in Ahsoka.

Bo: NOT IN MANDALORE Ahsoka: Oh, what does it mean there? Bo: Um. I forget. <- several hours later -> Jango: It means you want to kill the person you gave it to. Bo: NO.

Also I love the idea Jango absolutely fluent in the language of flowers. Had to be to keep up with all the scheming Satine gets up to (good scheming). Obi-Wan: Ahsoka will get there before Anakin does. Ventress: no bet. Quinlan: I'll take that action Quinlan: You underestimate Rex. I think he's going to be able to---is he … singing? Obi-Wan: A love ballad. Ventress: … is it though? It's pretty ambiguous. Quinlan: fuck Anakin: (Rex loves someone else and I'm keeping him away from them ;A;) I'm sure whoever hears it will love it. Rex: …