#or maybe put it in archives for references and such

[coridallasmultipass]

... *VIOLENTLY SHAKING MY PAST SELF FROM 10 YEARS AGO* WHAT WAS THE FUCKING DREAM???? WHAT WAS IT???? WHY DIDN'T YOU FUCKING TYPE IT OUT YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!!!! OHHH MY GOD I'M GONNA SCREAM LMAO.

[sunderwight]

Okay, concept:

Luo Binghe grew up very poor prior to arriving to QJP. And when he first got to QJP, he was ostracized and neglected. So there are probably a lot of phrases, terms, and ideas that he didn't know were things until SY arrived and started actually teaching him. Right? So the bulk of what he did learn, he learned directly from Shen Yuan's own slightly messy attempts to fake ancient scholarly credentials.

Plus, QJP is supposed to be the peak of scholars and well-read, fancy intellectuals, and YQY probably also doesn't know shit about most of that stuff (having also been a former illiterate street child) and of course is incredibly predisposed to take Shen Qingqiu's side on virtually anything. Especially something frivolous or linked to their shared past, such as someone, say Qi Qingqi, accusing Shen Qingqiu of making up a literary reference or "gibberish" word. If something Shen Qingqiu says is something no one else seems to know, that just proves he's more worldly and well-read than the rest of his peers. Also, Shang Qinghua will probably know it, and despite his many (many) character flaws, Shang Qinghua reads a lot too. There's really very little to convince a former street child turned Demon Emperor whose former education began and ended with Shen Qingqiu specifically and Meng Mo (wildly out-of-touch with human culture anyway) to suspect that some of the difficult-to-source references his master makes really have no worldly source (in this world).

So Luo Binghe, in his quest to become as knowledgeable of all things about his shizun and keep up with him as well as possible, and maybe also put down some arguments he's overheard once and for all, eventually gets annoyed because CLEARLY there is a wealth of cultural knowledge contemporary to Shen Qingqiu and Shang Qinghua that didn't survive to his own generation. His efforts at hunting down all the sources being referenced and origins of certain philosophical ideas or terminology keep coming up empty in certain departments. He's been over the entire QJP library with a fine-tooth comb, but QJP focuses on things pertaining to cultivation, history, and knowledge. Obviously, there are gaps. The archives are unlikely to keep pop cultural references and lowbrow literature, and Luo Binghe begins to suspect (from what tastes his master seems to share with his shishu) that that is that actual source he's missing.

The trashy yellow books and romance literature of their generation! Bawdy poems and lewd artworks so on! Heck, that's probably even where the shared "code" (bad English) comes into play -- disciples are always trying to sneak forbidden material past their teachers and smuggle naughty books into the dormitories. Knowing Shizun and Shang Qinghua, Luo Binghe honestly wouldn't be surprised if the two of them were racketeering that shit in their own disciple days. Shang Qinghua acquiring materials, Shen Qingqiu acquiring buyers, both of them making their extra spending money off of secretly supplying Cang Qiong's population with contraband fiction and art.

Also, that would explain why both Shen Qingqiu and Shang Qinghua get flustered and refuse to elaborate if someone asks them what this or that strange turn of phrase refers to. Shen Qingqiu has a very thin face for actually discussing erotica, and Shang Qinghua doesn't like being caught doing illegal shit.

Luo Binghe desperately needs access to trash lit that's older than he is. However, most of that stuff is not printed to last, and turning it up is like trying to find old Spirk zines without the internet.

Shang Qinghua, the obvious go-to source, also seems to not really have anything that old anymore (intimidating him is laughably easy, if he had anything he would have coughed it up by the second or third time Luo Binghe asked and frowned at the same time), and if Shen Qingqiu did have anything he wouldn't want to be questioned about it. Asking too much might even get it destroyed in an act of excessive embarrassment.

Which means there is just one other person Luo Binghe knows who might be able to lead him to some sources. One other person he is absolutely, 100% certain was extensively reading trashy literature around the same time that Shizun was a young man. Someone who would know where to go to even begin looking for it.

Luo Binghe is going to have to ask Tianlang Jun for help with something.

[bunnwich]

Bunbun, how do you think Leona got his scar??

How Leona Got His Scar and Other Thoughts

So this is for sure something I’ve thought about a lot and how Leona’s Scar relates to him as a character. I get that it's very likely he was simply given a scar by Yana to mirror his Great Seven counterpart of Scar...but you guys know I love to create my own lore. I personally find the little information we do get on Leona’s scar interesting. In one of Leona's chats, Ruggie asks Leona where he got his Scar and notes that The King of Beasts also has a scar on his left eye.

Of course, Leona, being Leona, brushes off the question and says he doesn't remember, but logically, we know it would be silly for someone to forget how such a prominent injury was received. And as far as we know, he doesn't have any other scars besides this one. 

So, he’s avoiding the truth. Either so the writers can be cheeky about it all, since Scar’s scar origins have had many recons. OR, if you wanna look deeper, maybe there is an implication that Leona prefers not to talk about it because the memory is upsetting. So, he brushes it off with a smirk.

Since I love angst, I prefer the latter. But, let's put a pin in that for a sec.

I think an interesting aspect to all this is that in the Magical Archives (I believe) it's mentioned that scars are something to be proud of in Sunset Savanna, which always kinda puzzled me.

We know that Twisted Wonderland has a skewed perception of the respective Disney villains, but it's still an interesting choice.

In the Lion King lore, a scar is essentially a bad omen. After Scar's death, two characters, Kion and Kovu, are condemned to others viewing them negatively. It's treated as a "Mark of Evil" in the Lion Guard show and even used as a symbol of Kion's deteriorating mental health. There is a symbol found on the ground that they refer to as a “Mark of Evil" where Scar's spirit manifested. TBH, even the treatment of Scar himself borders on ableism and the fact that people refer to him BY his disfigurement is kinda wild.

(Lion Guard wiki)

Since we kinda get conflicting lore from TLK and Twisted Wonderland on how scars are viewed...this really made me think about how it affects Leona. 

I like to believe the view of scars is nuanced in the Sunset Savanna. Maybe now with the younger generations, there is a different attitude regarding scars and they no big deal. Maybe because of the King of Beasts more positive influence, they just are seen as a more "heroic" thing in general. 

But, going back to Leona-

I think with what we know of his backstory a chunk of his people view him as this “bad omen” already due to his unique magic. And maybe after Leona received his “mark,” at some point as a child, some folks (maybe older ones) became even more apt to view him as a cursed prince. In Leona’s overblot flashback, we see how the servants in the palace fear and gossip about him.

Since we don't know the full truth of it, since the writers love to deprive us of Leona lore… My headcanon is this- When he and Falena were young, someone went to attack Falena and because the guard’s attention was so focused on the direct heir, Leona was hurt in the crossfire. Not only this, Leona has quite an adverse reaction to being attacked (perhaps for the first time physically as I also HC he was a weak child) However, he was still a child with a powerful Unique Magic, one he maybe couldn't control well at the time. So he attacks the attacker, who was maybe even just another child playing rough or perhaps just a rowdy peasant? Either way, this doesn't end well, he perhaps fatally injures the attacker and is punished for it. And so, begins the series complexes he has as the grumpy Lion we know now.

The desire for him to always be in control and be proficient at magic and magical defense.

His cynicism confirmed. Being reminded again of his place in life. Being only viewed as "a spare heir" compared to his brother. An unnecessary piece.

The disconnection he feels with his family and their disapproval of him and his actions.

Perhaps, this is why Leona is so good at defensive magic (like he mentions to Riddle who failed to collar him at first in Chapter 2.) Maybe this is why he chose to take up sports and self-defense, to protect himself from others despite preferring his intellect to fight. We know he at some point learns from Kifaji how to wrestle in the Catch the Tail Tournament. All this to say, I believe whatever happened is something traumatic for Leona and linked to his insecurities as a person. (Kinda like in many of Scar's backstories) I get into that a bit in this fic I wrote of Yuu comforting Leona. I just find it interesting to think about how the memory of receiving his Scar has affected him as he got older. While cocky and good at acting nonchalant, I do believe, deep down Leona feels uneasy about others' commenting about it or touching it.

Anyway, these are just my thoughts, as per usual! Thanks for asking I enjoyed yapping!

[notebooks-and-laptops]

Just realised the reason I'm not getting that cool Bellara outfit with the tiara is because i won't encourage her to destroy the archive. Which is really annoying, because I think destroying the archive is a decision neither she or Rook should be making and really puts the nail in the coffin for me on this game just not caring at all about the elves and especially the dalish at all. Like. Bellara could GIVE IT AWAY but to destroy it is to take history and knowledge away from so many people who are desperate for such knowledge. The game basically only brings up the dalish if they're victims of the gods they worshipped in this game (or worse, when the writing tries to force white guilt onto a group of people it makes no sense to have white guilt). And then to just decide suddenly that all these clans who have worked so hard to try and restore some history, the VEILJUMPERS themselves...just. don't get a say in this?

Like. Think of Merrill. Merrill would LOVE to get her hands on that archive. And yes Merrill can destroy the mirror at the end of her questline but if she DOES it's a huge emotional beat in which she believes that she thinks she was wrong and it got her keeper/clan killed. It's really done more out of anger and pain than anything else (the bit where it shatters chills me to my core every time). It's during the rivalry path and it's like, she believes she is so so so alone at that point and that the mirror took it all away. It's a really good character beat and I think maybeeeee they were trying to replicate it here? Because Bellara is also grieving and her brother was taken from her.

But it just doesn't work because it ends up as rooks decision and it ends up being like a methodically thought out one where we're just taking history away from all the dalish clans that they may want or find useful? And it also feels less done out of grief and more a reference to the previous white guilt convo that Bellara has about the Gods and it's like????? It makes me feel so icky to have to make that decision. It's NOT OURS TO MAKE. I just. Bellaras final beats they had so many options it could have been like; her becoming a spirit again or not, her following Anaris or not, her saving her brother or not. If they really really wanted to make it about like elves past Vs their future (false dichotomy but go off I guess) they could have had her find a way to remove her Valislin and whether or not she takes it (also I love the design but give her one we recognise and maybe make it one of the gods we are fighting to give it extra oomf?? I mean I like the idea of different clans having different designs but this kinda falls flat when she and Cirian are the only ones who have different designs?) because at least that decision would only affect HER and not you know. All the clans that constantly have their history erased and desperately want to hold onto it????

Anyway. I don't want to destroy the archive.

But I want the tiara. I want it so bad.

[twisted-dork]

The Library Incident

*Been needing to do this for some time now, thank you for your patience @apple4me 😅 (sorry been busy with school finals/tests whatever you call it)*

Tim sets up surveillance on May because he’s being paranoid, only to accidentally become the unwilling audience to Jason Todd trying to flirt with a girl he actually likes.

Tim is sat hunched over his screen, caffeine in hand, analyzing footage from the miniature surveillance cameras he’d covertly placed around Gotham’s library when May Parker started working there.

Tim (focused, typing rapidly): “Surveillance on Parker is active. No anomalies so far, but I’m keeping a close eye on her route between the kid section and the front desk.”

Tim (mutters to himself): “Let’s see what you’re hiding, Miss Parker…”

But instead of criminal activity, he got—Jason Todd. Hovering awkwardly near the reference desk.

Jason (hands in jacket pockets): “So… uh… got any new crime novels in?”

May (without looking up): “Same shelf as last time, Mr. Todd”

Jason (nods too quickly): “Right, yeah, just… making sure you hadn’t moved them.”

May (smirking slightly): “Not since yesterday. Or the day before. Or the twelve times you’ve asked this week.”

Jason (grinning like an idiot): “You keepin’ track?”

May (teasing): “I’m a librarian. It’s kind of my whole thing.”

Tim blinked. Fast-forwarded. Found more footage.

The more footage:

Jason (arms full of books he absolutely won’t read): “I thought maybe I could help you reshelve. Team effort?”

May (dryly): “You put ‘The Very Hungry Caterpillar’ in nonfiction.”

Jason: “…Listen, caterpillars are real, okay?”

Tim groaned, dragging his hands down his face.

Dick (walking by, glancing at the monitor): “Wait… is that Jason?”

Tim (grimacing): “Yeah. He keeps dropping by the library pretending to ‘return’ books he never actually checked out. And look at him, he just knocked over an entire display rack of Shakespeare.”

Jason (on screen): “So like… uh. Do you like… Hamlet? Or are you more of a Macbeth girl? I mean—woman. I mean—May.”

May (smiling, clearly amused): “I’m more into Othello. Tragedies feel more relatable when you’ve lived in Queens.”

Jason: “Right. Totally. Queens. You ever throw hands with someone in a bodega over the last sandwich? ’Cause that’s basically my Romeo and Juliet.”

Dick: “…Oh my god. I knew it!!!! He’s into her!”

Tim (deadpan): “Unfortunately, I know. I’ve had to sit through six hours of him trying and failing to ask her to coffee.”

Log Entry Notes: Day 5

• Jason enters with The Great Gatsby. Returns it with a fake bookmark in the middle.

• Compliments May’s new glasses. Trips over a chair and pretends it was intentional.

• May calls him “charming in a brick wall kind of way.” Jason short-circuits.

• Dick and Tim scream into a pillow.

— Later That Week —

Dick (eating popcorn in front of the monitors): “This is better than The Bachelor. Do you think she knows?”

Tim (groaning): “She definitely knows. She’s just playing it cool. Probably waiting for him to grow a spine.”

Dick: “Do you think we should… help?”

Tim: “If by ‘help’ you mean lock them in the rare books archive and cut the power until they confess, then yes.”

Jason (on screen, nervously holding a coffee): “I thought, maybe, you might want… this? I mean, you said last week you liked cinnamon, and the guy said this one had notes of cinnamon, but now I’m not sure if it’s too much—”

May (taking it gently): “Jason, relax. It’s perfect. So are you… in a chaotic, explosion-prone kind of way.”

Jason (freezes): “Coolcoolcool. Yeah. That’s me. Chaos incarnate. That’s… that’s hot, right?”

Dick (leaning in): “Oh my god, just kiss already.”

Tim: “Do we start a betting pool or an intervention?”

Bonus: Oracle Joins the Drama

Barbara (over comms): “Why are there thirty gigabytes of library footage on the Batcomputer marked ‘For Emotional Damage’?”

Tim: “Jason has a crush on May.”

Barbara: “…I’ll grab popcorn.”

Masterlist

[artsninspo]

❄️ SNOWED IN SEDUCTION - RIO X READER

「 ✦ full library & archive ✦ 」

: ̗̀➛ rio's library - good girl nbc

𐙚 based on this prompt

summary: a whirlwind fic about two strangers stuck on a resort because of a snow storm on christmas eve. starring rio, an enigmatic and mysterious investor.

warnings: this one's messy, with language and its spicy. 🌶️ 🌪️

pairing: Rio (Good Girls) X Reader

word-count: 2.1K

You let out a frustrated groan, putting your head in your hands as you tried to figure out how this had come to pass.

It had started with the snowstorm. The announcement over the hotel’s PA system had grounded you, along with dozens of other travelers, in the luxurious mountain resort. A work trip gone rogue, the only reason you were in attendance was that you had volunteered to ensure one of your colleagues didn't miss the lead-up to Christmas with their young children. But the snow had blown in, ruining your plans for Christmas Day. The frustration of missing Christmas with your family was palpable, but you’d resigned yourself to making the best of it.

Then there was Rio.

The man had appeared at the reception desk, his presence commanding and effortlessly magnetic. You noticed him immediately—the neck tattoo, the scruffy facial hair, the way his black cashmere sweater and dark jeans fit him as though they were made custom. He was a contradiction: rugged and refined, approachable yet untouchable. And when he’d turned his attention to you, his eyes locking onto yours with a heat that made your pulse quicken, it was as though the rest of the world had ceased to exist.

It was one of those magnetic moments people reference in songs and the rising action of movie plots. When two people look at each other and just know. That’s what it was like—exactly like that. One look communicated mutual attraction in an instant.

Instead of moving hastily or getting bent out of shape, Rio maintained his resolve, moving slowly, commanding time, and insisting the receptionists see to your needs first. It seemed like an innuendo and acted as an aphrodisiac to what would follow. In an attempt to make lemonade out of lemons, the hotel threw a party for its guests. You were in bed on the phone with your sisters when your invitation and a clothing rack of dresses arrived. It was your first note from him.

Hope to see you there. Champagne is on me.- Rio

A quick internet search made it clear the man had money. The bottle alone was worth between thirty to fifty grand. The dresses were all five figures too. How he’d managed to find something to fit your frame so perfectly was beyond your comprehension. Feeling sexy, sultry, and encouraged by the expensive gifts and your sisters' prodding, you were excited to see him again, going against your sensible side. The allure of Rio’s charm proved too strong to resist.

The party had been a haze of champagne and laughter, the two of you moving seamlessly between conversations, dances, and stolen moments that left your skin tingling. Rio had been attentive, his hand at the small of your back, his deep voice whispering in your ear. There was a chemistry between you that felt almost dangerous or maybe it was simply something about him that signaled danger.

When the party ended, he’d walked you back to the Skyloft suite. His kiss had been the beginning of the unraveling—a heady mix of dominance and desire that left you breathless. What followed was a night unlike any you’d ever experienced. Rio was commanding yet patient, his every touch deliberate, his every whispered word a promise of pleasure. He took control, unraveling you piece by piece until there was nothing left but raw vulnerability and euphoria.

He slipped inside, filling you slowly until he fit like a glove. Leaving your breath bated as your body gets used to the stimulation. Dark eyes look down at you under thick lashes. His thumb pressed firmly against your spot forcing your eyes close in a satisfied moan. His lips part yours not allowing for any reprieve and his hips find a rhythm that drives you wild. Tears bead in the corners of your eyes as he goes harder, his hips go faster and his kiss is more feverish. His thrusts are punishing, but his dominance and size makes you crazy for him. Your mouth opens, breaking the kiss in a bid to get air. You’re overstimulated and delirious. It feels so good there’s no room for anything else. Rio looks down at you enjoying the effect and impact of his physicality. The slapping of skin, the heat from your body, the slickness of your pleasure mixed in with his. The chemistry between the two of you is so raw it’s stripped both of you bare, leaving nothing there but an instinctive need for pleasure. He’d seen the doubt in your expression. Men with his bank account often slacked in bed, not him, not with pussy this good. The image of you writhing in pleasure under him keeps him creative in his approach to the fucking and hard as a rock. Wanting to see your pretty eyes again he roots himself deep inside of you. The groan you let out is coupled with a climax and your eyes go to him again. It’s number two in what seems like no time at all.

“If you want me to keep fucking you like a whore act like one and look at me. Watch me while I’m fucking you. Take this dick like a good girl” his words added to the sensation, it feels so good you need a moment and you pull him into another kiss. He kissed you soft and seductive, slowly drawing the freak out of you as replaces his manhood with his fingers, a cheap imitation of what he’s capable of.

“I know your game” he whispered against your lips but you’ve never been fucked like this - ever. Looking up at him he seems like the perfect pleasure dealer. Looking between his legs you find reassurance at how his impressive size stands at attention

.

“You’re defying gravity for me” you commented with eyes that waited to be granted permission to touch him.

“Nah” Rio smiled, his ego too strong to let you be his undoing. He watched your eyes sparkle at the realization of his  objection and smiles when instead of challenging him you find yourself on all fours grabbing him full control. He admires your arch.

“Pick the hole” he said, making your body ache for him. Who even says shit like that?! Reaching back you slide him into your center. Rio hums at the contact enjoying being inside you as much as you enjoy him nestled there too. The angle was everything, giving you the privacy to close your eyes while taking him in peace as he finds your depths testing your limits. The chorus of moans make Rio feel like the old him before the money. It was clear now how much other women put on a facade. The lazy fucking he gave them had them carrying on in ways that didn’t make sense now that he could feel a real unbridled reaction from you. The way your core clenches his manhood before you moan, how your hands go to massage areas being overstimulated, how every time he went to grab your breasts your nipples were pebbled for him. That kind of reaction was all instinct, something that couldn't be faked and it filled Rio with pride. The way you felt to him and how he was making you feel had to be some kind of christmas magic.

He could get lost in you easily, losing his focus on his work and dropping the ball. Your shit was good enough to turn him into a trick or a fiend. The onset of his orgasm is violent and unfamiliar. Warm thick streams float into you for the first time and the sensation drives you wild. Your breaths are rugged as he stays rooted in you. The moment is intimate and unlike anything you’ve ever experienced with anyone else, ever. You couldn't have dreamed up a better session, as exhaustion flows in so does a well earned afterglow. Rio stays hard even after he’s caught his breath. Sliding out he rests against the pillows. Your cheeks burn as he looks over at you unable to fathom that this is real as he watches his seed leak out of you. Your brain doesn’t even click into survival mode from the post coital bliss.

“Tell me what I taste like” he says clearly with some power to override your common sense. Slight bitterness and exhaustion stopped you from complying.

“I’d know if you let me suck it” you respond instead of tasting him from your own body and he smiles. Looking between your legs and getting up. Rio returns with a warm rag wiping you clean. The aftercare surprises you. He slipps on a pair of pants and you feel your heart fall, but he takes the robe hanging in the bathroom and places it over your body.

You can still feel the heat of his touch as if it were imprinted on your skin. The way his lips had moved against yours, his hands firm yet gentle, made you shiver even now. He had been attentive in a way you hadn’t expected, making you feel seen, desired, and utterly consumed. You had lost track of time entirely, the hours blending into one long, intoxicating blur of intimacy and passion.

Now, in the bright light of Christmas morning, the reality of it all hit you like a gust of icy wind. Rio was gone, his presence lingering only in the faint scent of his cologne and the ghost of his touch. The knock on the door earlier had shattered your reverie—two men in dark suits presenting an NDA with clinical efficiency. You’d signed it without hesitation, using the alias you always employed for work. Only then had they confirmed his full name: Rio Montana.

Investor. Enigma. And now, a ghost in your memory.

The exchange had been cold, transactional. One of the men had placed a card and a banking printout on the table alongside the money. The other had stood silently, his expression unreadable. "The additional fifty thousand can be accessed following the instructions on this card," the man had said, his voice devoid of warmth. The automation of it all had made you feel small, like an afterthought in a world of power and wealth.

You glanced at the money again, the weight of it pressing down on your chest. What did it mean? Compensation? A parting gift? A bribe to ensure your silence? The thought made your stomach churn, but another part of you, the pragmatic side, couldn’t deny the practical appeal. A hundred thousand dollars could change your life. It could pay off debts, fund dreams, or simply buy you freedom from the grind you’d been stuck in.

But at what cost?

The drive to the airport was quiet, the snowstorm having finally relented. The resort staff had arranged a fleet of SUVs to transport stranded guests, and you found yourself staring out the window, watching the pristine white landscape blur past. The excitement of Christmas felt distant, replaced by a strange cocktail of emotions: shame, exhilaration, and something else you couldn’t quite place.

The roads were lined with snow-covered evergreens, their branches heavy with the weight of winter. Christmas decorations adorned the small towns you passed, twinkling lights and festive wreaths offering a stark contrast to the turmoil in your heart. You’d always loved the holiday season, but this year it felt hollow, as though the magic had been replaced with a cold, hard reality.

At the terminal, you moved through security and boarded your flight, your carry-on heavier than it had been when you arrived. Settling into your seat, you looked out at the snow-covered tarmac, the events of the past day replaying in your mind. The encounter with Rio had been a whirlwind, a departure from your otherwise measured and predictable life. It had awakened something in you, something you weren’t sure you could name yet.

The plane taxied down the runway. You stared out the window, watching the clouds drift by in a blanket of white, and placed a hand absently on your stomach. A faint flutter of nausea lingered, stressed and mixed emotions threatening to come up with the morning's breakfast.

The other passengers around you chatted quietly, their voices a low hum against the backdrop of the engine’s steady roar. A child a few rows ahead giggled as they played with a small, plush reindeer toy, the sound tugging at something deep within you. You found yourself watching them, a strange mix of emotions bubbling to the surface—longing, curiosity, and something you couldn’t quite put into words.

Dazed, shocked, and conflicted, you couldn’t deny the thrill of the experience. But it was bittersweet, a morally gray chapter in your life that you’d carry with you. The money was a blessing, the memory of Rio a curse and a gift all at once.

authour's note: thanks for reading ❤️ I played around with the formatting of this last minute, hopefully it wasn't too hard to follow. I wanted to try something new before the year ended.

there are more holiday fics in the rio archive linked above.

tags: @meadows5 @wnbweasley @becauseimher @ariiaeltheedonn @woahthatshitfat @miniaturehideoutmentality @kokobells @ffenthusiastt @sowhatariyana @1xtral1983 @theegoddessofmelanin @fictionalreads @roxytheimmortal

if you made it all the way here, this is an prologue concept I have been working on for a secret baby story with OC's.

[lizdive]

I propose reader being a big brother figure who's responsible and reliable for the astral express trio (March 7th, trailblazer, Dan Heng) since Welt is the grandpa/father figure while himeko is the mother figure

i do 💍 /j this is such a cute idea i love the astral express crew found family trope it’s so cute <33 i don’t think i did this too well concept wise i’m sorry,,, but thank you for requesting <3 If you’re not satisfied then just tell me and i’ll redo it !! <33

notes 𐙚 male! reader — "you" + "he/him" + "big brother" used to refer to the reader ,, reader as an older brother figure ,, platonic relationships ,, trailblazer is not specific — can be seen as stelle or caelus ,, not proofread so excuse typos auhm ,,,,,,,

⭑ Whether you joined first or last, your closeness to the express does not differ. You’ll always be the one MARCH runs to when she wants to try out new outfits and needs an opinion, or when DAN HENG needs help with the archives, or when the TRAILBLAZER wants to go dumpster diving.

⭑ If you joined before DAN HENG, you probably had the role of Astral Express Guard and handled the archives. You left the most of the archive work to DAN HENG when he joined so he could freely enjoy the archives, but whether you give up your role as Astral Express Guard or still hold it alongside DAN HENG is up to you.

⭑ HIMEKO and WELT are very thankful for your responsibility and reliability, and HIMEKO will praise you for it with a pat on the head or the back. While DAN HENG is responsible and reliable, too, it’s nice for someone to relieve the stress of the TRAILBLAZER and MARCH from his shoulders while looking after him, too.

⭑ Also, while DAN HENG is a victim of the TRAILBLAZER and MARCH’s shenanigans, you’re always there to put a stop to them before they get too out of hand. Sometimes whenever you four are on a mission and your separated from the group, the moment you all meet back up DAN HENG will snitch on MARCH and the TRAILBLAZER. They’ll convince you to not snitch to HIMEKO and WELT after you scold them.

⭑ You’re the unofficial official chaperone for those three so good luck.

⭑ During crew group photos you’ll always be in the middle between WELT and HIMEKO. Doesn’t matter if you’re on the shorter side or the taller side.

⭑ After the Xianxhou arc, DAN HENG will find solace in your presence. Whether it’s just in silence or you comforting him verbally, he appreciates it. If you stay with him on the express during Penacony, he may feel a tear being shed from how touched he is.

⭑ The TRAILBLAZER will call you 'big brother' and depending on how you view / play them, it can be seen as either teasing or genuine. MARCH does it, too, but it’s joking.

⭑ WELT always feels himself relaxing more when you join him on missions because he knows you’ll be able to handle yourself and enemies as well as keep up with negotiations and pitch in ideas should there be any. He’ll make sure you don’t push yourself, of course, but he will appreciate you fighting diligently.

⭑ With HIMEKO it just feels like you’re babysitting the crew while she deals with the important things. It’s like when a mother is talking with a teacher and the oldest is trying to keep his siblings in check so they don’t do anything stupid.

⭑ The trio would follow big brother! reader like ducklings and if anyone calls them out on it, they’ll deny it. Maybe TRAILBLAZER wouldn’t and would crack a joke, but DAN HENG and MARCH will definitely deny it, DAN HENG being better at doing so than MARCH. big brother! reader just laughs and says he’s fine with it and doesn’t mind.

⭑ Good heart health is most likely non-existent. Poor heart will be at risk of stopping permanently with all the shit those three get into. HIMEKO and WELT will start taking your place in missions because you’ll need 5–12 stress and anxiety-free rest days after every few missions.

⭑ If anything during a mission is going downhill you’re the first person the trio will think to call. Big brother to the rescue!

[gladiatorcunt]

- BEDROCK | XII.

you’re a bottled star, the planets align, you’re just like mars. you shine in the sky

cw: kinktober prompt (sex toys), reader has a pussy, age gap (ur bsf ahsoka’s former master!anakin (40’s) obi wan (50’s)’s padawan!reader in her early 20’s), dub con, implied obikin x reader codependency, dismemberment fantasies, reader is lowkey a stalker freak, no direct touching between anakin and reader ofher than chest fondling, strongly implied voyeurism that’s non consensual but unavoidable and unwanted by both of you, eventual sith!anakin, obi wan haunts the narrative, frequent use of ‘little one’, dead dove do not eat, reader became a padawan in their late teens

please do not repost, translate, or feed this work to ai

kinktober 2024

“You know they’re going to expect their toys to be put to good use.” Master Skywalker shrugs and tiredly grumbles down at you.

You’re sprawled out on the bed, recuperating from the first day of your undercover mission. Your own Master Obi-Wan Kenobi was on one of his infamous negotiation tours, so to speak, you had never cared for them, you couldn't spin pleasantries like yarn any better than a Rakghoul could dance.

Obi-Wan could only stomach taking you on because you parallel Anakin in so many ways, Anakin could only accept his former master taking another padawan because maybe your added seriousness will ease the aggravation caused by the one before you.

You were just happy to be chosen, as any child-waited-too-long-unwanted-teenager plucked from the tense comfort of their home would be, even if that home is only a basic imitation of a shelter.

“I know, Master.” These blasted things, growing up the other padawans would giggle with you over these provocative missions, usually a padawan donning the skin of a schutta on the end of a leash held by their Masters. “Do they have to be so… unique?”

It was as nice as Obi-Wan would’ve wanted you to be, even in these circumstances.

Would he take on Master Skywalker’s role with as much confidence and clarity as the true born son of the Force? Rumors of both the men’s appeal and promiscuity do not guarantee a willingness to rut into a padawan, a dance of demons spoken of in the archives, a beast in the vein of and important to some future single world than your own.

“Unique? How so? I know you’re not like some padawans and keep to yourself, little one, but Jedi your age talk. I’m not naive, neither is Obi-Wan.”

Master Skywalker might as well have carved the kyber crystal of his saber into your face, the flame that crackles under the surface of your skin bears his scent, stormy as his heavy gaze often is.

“Apologies, Master, i never meant to-”

“Shush.” He chuckles, “You can call me Anakin, I hope you’re aware of that. Mace Windu is not going to barge in here and strike you down for being informal. It’s just us, little one. I’m not even your real master, just doing pet sitting for an old friend.”

You blink, lava swirling in your gut at the implication of being a pet before a person. “Anakin.” Your mouth twists around the unused syllables, never having referred to a master by their first name in your entire life. “But the mission, we’re supposed to um…… you said they’d notice if we didn’t do……. anything.”

Another chuckle, another curl tucked behind his ear. “I shouldn’t have to remind you that we came to this planet as a wealthy ship salesman and his controversially younger companion. This place is too seedy to not have eyes and ears everywhere, they’d take it as an insult if we declined to use their… gifts. The success of this mission would mean another smuggler and secret trader being taken down, Obi-Wan and I both think you’re ready for riskier missions like this one. You’ll do fine, little one.”

“I’m trying to release my fear and anger into the force, Master- Anakin. I thank you and Master for seeing this in me but I've never done anything like this before. Are people really going to hear us… have sex?”

“That’s why we’re speaking so softly, padawan, it’s not the noises they’re looking to witness, but you can never be too careful.” Anakin smiles, patting your cheek firmly. “And we don’t necessarily have to do anything like that, just use the toys and leave them on the bed for servants to find, messy and thoroughly used. The nobleman will be pleased, if the information painting him as a pervert is accurate.”

Obi-Wan wouldn’t have spoken to you quite so crassly, but he does like to tease you that the sand scratching Anakin’s tongue never goes away, there’s always another grain when you think it’s spotless and clean. Like the temple or one of the many mighty metal spires, the sterile trees of Coruscant.

You nod, nevertheless. “There’s no use putting it off. The schedule we studied says the workers will stop by first thing in the morning.” Your nerves are obvious, picking your nails, biting your lip, adjusting the folds of your skimpy outfit to conceal skin it will never stretch far enough to cover.

Anakin’s eyes soften, the wrinkles in his outer eye corners deepen. “I’m only sorry I won’t be the only one to hear you cum for the first time, but they’ll never touch you, and they won’t get to know what you sound like doing everything. Trust me, little one, you’re in the safest place you could be right now, my general vicinity.”

It’s not as funny, or as hot, as you’d expect it to be. As shy as you are, you’re constantly surprised by how quick you are to embrace arousal in the urge to renounce shame. If your blood temperature rises to a boiling point, the big ball of anxious knots in your knot could be singed through until it falls apart.

You do not feel any great embarrassment of the simple truth that you have a crush on Anakin Skywalker, many do, you’d be at the tail end of a long line of various species of various ages and with various expectations of what they want their bodies to go through.

It’s silly to be possessive of a man you only share a master with, who stops by to chat when he’s not tinkering away at something or doing some death defying stunt on a mission that’s going to drive the council to insanity one of these days.

You are jealous of Ahsoka Tano however, your closest friend, even after she’s transferred to another Master, the result of some great big falling out.

It is far better that you were not assigned to be his padawan, the Force would have bled with your desire and dissipated entirely to get away from it.

Master Skywalker picks up one of the toys lying there on the bed in between you, a realistic tongue that disturbs you just a bit more than it arouses you. He chuckles at the apprehension on your face and motions for you to get comfortable. He reaches around you with one arm and bundles you up in his lap, your back to his firm chest.

He shushes your nervousness sounds and attempts to ramble, not fully apologetic as he peels back the layers of your tunic top. Your chest bounces into view, free from the confines of the tight fabric. Anakin gives you absolutely no time to be shy about them, groping one in his free hand. The force beams with his amusement when you gasp, the calluses on his fingers feel like they’re marking the skin of your mound, he kneads and kneads for a moment, perfectly content to let you squirm until you can get used to what else he’ll have to subject you to.

Maybe that’s where the hotness in these missions lies, you both want this on a baseline level but there are things you have to bend your own line in the sand to allow. Pushing your limits under the shyness-inducing gaze of Master Skywalker in these uncomfortably close walls and on a mission where you’re free to be other people might very well be your only chance. You’ve never broken a single rule at the temple, you’re a shining example of what a padawan learner should be. Master Obi-Wan often jokes that he wishes you were around to be his padawan the first time around, but there’s always a note of sadness hanging onto his stilted laughter.

You arch your back against Anakin, bracing your hands behind you and burying them in his hair. He groans as you gently tug the curls, and gives it right back to you by lowering the realistic tongue to your left nipple. You flinch, the surprisingly cold silicone model of a muscle flicks against your perky nub on Anakin’s command, and he’s commanding it to torture you to death. Relentless flicks of the toy against your nipple make you squirm again, wanting so badly to be good but you’d much rather ensure the toy was in constant contact with your chest.

It’s the perfect temperature, you run hot most days, and the brief sensation sends shivers from your head to your toes, just a hint of pleasure since Anakin stopped his own touching, sitting as still as a statue as he works the toy on you. He hooks his chin in your shoulder to gawk, transferring the device from one slick nipple to the other until both are so thoroughly coated that it drips onto your soft tummy.

“See, that feels good right, little one? There’s nothing to worry about, this is all we’ll do until it’s time for bed and then we’ll put these things away.”

You nod, whining like a spoiled noble family member now, pouting when he takes the tongue away from your nipple and throws it haphazardly over his shoulder. You cringe, wondering if the loud clang it yells into the concrete floor’s ears reached those in the shadows, you were trying to ignore them but now that there was a single moment of quiet there lecherous eavesdropping was all you could imagine.

A thick hand clamps around your chin and jerks you in the bearer’s direction, Master Skywalker clicks his tongue against his teeth, “They’re nothing to you, especially not right now. If you’d only let yourself go, they’d fade away entirely in your mind, I was trying to be easy on you but clearly you’re in need of something stronger if your head is still on the surface of this planet.”

Something stronger, being a large vibrator, 15 inches and a swirl of mint green and lavender, in the shape of a tentacle, every suction cup has the ability to well… suck. These are all things Anakin relays to you while rearranging your form to his liking, legs spread wide over his thighs, arms behind your back but not restrained, and after some lifting, your robes in a beige pile by the gaudy bed.

Master Skywalker can be merciful occasionally, he doesn’t force you to make eye contact as he lowers the vibrating toy to the altar between your legs. He also doesn’t comment on the pitiful whimper you let out, the vibrations haven’t even started, but you feel the force explode in pleasant-happy-power-trip blood orange. You drink up the calming waves he sends to you, wrapping them around your naked form like the comfiest and plushest blanket, the waves you offer to him in return are clingy little ripples in a pond. Needy repetition of hints to feelings that cannot leave this room alive.

He gets a glimpse of a fantasy, for a mere second before it vanishes out of view, a tantalizing and fascinating shooting star.

“No we can’t stop, you have to let it out.” You raise your hips up higher, face down ass up, your holes wink at him in intervals, angel wings flapping in the corner of his mind, like all the love he has for you will leak out into his cum and if he can just go that, then everything will be fine.

The vibrator doesn’t start at an easy to handle low frequency, your howling is drowned out by the intense humming of its second highest setting.

Your hips jolt, Anakin works the toy in slow circles over your clit, cooing when you jerk and squirm around. Your already throbbing clit is pulsing so hard it almost feels like a constant pain, but you’re so karkking wet that you push your hips up into his ministrations. You chase after the persistent buzzing with more determination than any of your meditation sessions, suddenly cumming on Master Skywalker’s lap is far more important to you than all the missions in the world. Blurry blobs with their ears to the structure around you shift to crumble beneath your increasingly loud cries.

Your pleasure snowballs, Anakin’s earlier attention to your nipples the mountain out of a molehill and his current fascination with your cunt the crashing wave threatening to envelop you in its fold. Like the ones Master Obi-Wan used to tell you about on Kamino, angry and dark cobalt blue, lapping at the ankles of the once elusive white buildings. It’s easy to split yourself into different pieces, assign each one to a part of nature because the force is telling you that your pleasure is as natural as grief and plant life and twin cotton candy pink to red suns and love and mistakes and giant bone dragons with pearls for landmark hearts.

The steady pulsing on your clit punches the gasps out of you, a steady stream of short-for-breath aimless chatter. You’re soaking Master Skywalker’s lap all the way down to the bed, if you mentioned them he’d probably tell you to leave how you ruined them. The smell and stain would only bring you greater protection from being found out, yet your stomach twists at the thought.

The force blooms violet with your fear, as if you’re deathly afraid of your own orgasm, lazy unenthusiastic rutting into your semi-firm mattress back in the dorm is nothing compared to actually touching yourself with the intent to cum. You just got too scared the first time you tried to slip your fingers in your tight snatch and frustratingly resigned yourself to never understanding what your peers go on and on about. Giggling into their portions of bland oatmeal and exchanging charged glances, hormones are far more powerful when they’re being repressed.

Master Obi-Wan had no trouble modestly applauding your emotional regulation skills, unlike his former padawan you had less trouble settling the wriggling bundle of your feelings in a see through boat and pushing it along the stream of starlight until it gave way and became one with the connecting tissue underneath.

“You’ll lose your voice at this rate, little one.” Anakin huns into your ear, his mech arm holding you so tight to his chest his ribs might crack open and swallow you whole. “You’re a better actress than I thought you’d be, unless all this whining and carrying on is genuine?”

You can’t even get a word out before he presses the vibe closer to your pussy, the swarm of tiny little mouths the orchestra and the largest one at the tip of the tentacle hugging your clit the conductor. Your breath hitches as you tremble and whine, a high pitched thing that pierces the air. Anakin grins, lips split wider than the length of the cruiser the council provided to get her, he moves the toy up and down between your folds. A fake cock warming itself in the snug hold of your pussy, sending little jolts of phantom electricity to fizz and sparkle on your tastebuds through your core up out your mouth.

“I’m- I’m not acting, Master. Kark! You’re- ngh- going to, um, y-you’re going too fast, Master, please.” You beg, throwing your head back on his shoulder and counting the dots that make up the constellations in your visions.

It’s too much pressure, Anakin plays with the silk fabric of your outfit like it’s something for his hands to do, like he’s not keeping a vibrator right on your clit and holding you down so you have no choice but to take it. You can’t help but think of the ways your real master would be different, he’d try his hardest and wait out the time the longest but would that stuffy old man end up performing this same brand of torture?

Not that Master Skywalker is much younger, from your position on his lap the signs are aging are right above your face. The cheek scar you learned months ago he’s had for decades The wrinkles, eyes, mouth, forehead, the permanent halfway tense halfway slack skin from all the stress he endured in the war, the ghosts living in his irises, his weathered hands splayed out burning hot steam to the touch on your belly. Right above your womb, he could just dig in and sink his fingers metal and skin knuckle deep.

“Aren’t you adorable? You’ve been taking it so far, you haven’t fallen yet, little star, I bet you can keep going. Stop rushing this, just relax and feel these hungry mouths coaxing you to splash against them, settle into their demanding chants.” Anakin soothes, unhurriedly dragging his blunt nails over your love handles, “I would say this body is wasted on those arid robes, on the Jedi Order, you’d be such a beautiful dancer like you were after dinner, but Obi-Wan would kill me if he found out.”

The dinner with the nobles, the party afterwards, the target had his lizard tongue hanging from his mouth when he asked you and the other “accessories” to put on a show. The force twirled in displeased crimson skies then.

You don’t insult Master Skywalker’s intelligence out loud, but you both plainly speak frequently to the same word of the day calendar.

You want to give him one of your arms, unholster your lightsaber and sever the flesh from your spirit. He wouldn’t be able to use it and you wouldn’t ask him too, he can just have it, so he can understand how alike you are, to know that you too will always wander around with a missing part of you. But how can it be truly missing if you gave it willingly? Master Obi-Wan can have your lonely other, in a fiery pyrrhic instant you are pure force and limbless.

You’d roll the turquoise pendant of the necklace he’d bring you, a souvenir from a stubborn vendor on an outer rim planet, in the lines on your palm like it’s one of his eyes.

Anakin suffocates the vibe in your pussy and doesn’t let the suction cups breathe until you’ve spontaneously combusted, before you can say knife

“It’s not funny, I really didn’t like it, Master.” You liked it too much, the flickers of yellow embers in his eyes, his grip so tight on your chub that you pictured him with sharp black claws, shacking up with a man you barely know but at the same time are too close to.

You used to fall asleep recounting the details of Anakin’s life and accomplishments, each tidbit represented a sheep for you, the biggest punishment to you back then meant being banned from the archives or blocked from news sites on the holonet.

You studied the man whose shadow you would wear over your robes like a shawl, until you were convinced you could jet set off to Tatooine and be able to point out which patches of sand his feet had tread upon. You just never once stopped to consider that he was doing the same with you, what kind of sun bothers himself with the comings and goings of a dead star so far away from their incinerating orbit.

“I don’t like that you like when i’m scared, it makes me feel… sick.” You could cum so hard you’d fall off the temple roof into Coruscant’s lower levels, be one of the ghosts wandering throughout the dreary gray tunnels but instead be moaning for cock that’d still be alive.

“I’ll hold your hair back and nurse you back to health, I’m in for it if I give old man Obi another padawan death scare.” He wiggles the digits of his mechanical arm sardonically, he knows what you mean but he also knows that you don’t mean it so he gives you the same amount of humor he sensed in your mutterings.

Master Skywalker is appreciated for his ability to be both tremendously serious on the battlefield and lighthearted with his colleagues, Anakin loves to tease shy early 20 somethings who volunteer him to be the replacement caretaker for their own master. He tosses and turns that night, not because of the impending result of the mission, all he’ll say in his husky morning voice is that he had a bad dream. You should make a break for the cruiser after embarrassingly exchanging pleasantries, Master Obi-Wan and the rest of the temple are expecting you home before your scheduled progress testing sparring session.

For now, the vibrator’s highest setting will be the instrument, the conduit to the music your moans create, interwoven with Anakin’s hot musk. Oil and dirty water.

[gorbo-longstocking]

Do Not Blame the Sea | Chapter 13

Pairing: Emperor Geta/Reader, Emperor Caracalla/Reader

Summary: An evening spent in the company of friends is interrupted by a realization, and your desperation to fix what may be broken. Unfortunately, the man you are trying to communicate with has an incessant desire to push you away.

Tags: Period typical views on slavery, Geta’s self-sabotaging, references to past child abuse, references to the cycle of abuse and becoming your abuser, arguments, brief vomiting, suicidal thoughts (Geta), panic attack (Geta), my friend dissociated after reading this so take that as you will.

Word Count: 8.5k words

Read on AO3

Masterlist.

If only Geta had continued to make himself scarce, then you would know peace. Everywhere you went, he seemed to be nearby. A senator visited and wanted to see your clinic, or he needed to speak with the keeper of the archives about the sorting systems in place while you were studying, or, perhaps, he simply happened to be in the same area as you. He was the emperor, after all, he could come and go as he pleased — he hadn’t said that to you, yet, but you could practically hear it in that smug little tone of his that he took on when he knew he was right.

Thankfully, he had enough forethought to keep his distance. That didn’t change the fact that he was being plain weird. You went outside, and there Geta was, watching you from behind a curtain, you spent your time in the gardens, and there was Geta, ten feet away, half hidden by a column. Did he think he was being sneaky? Everytime you glared at him, he would storm away, angrier than before. Likely at being caught. What a baby. 

You weren’t a fool, you knew what he wanted. His gaze would linger on the cut he left on your cheek. It was surrounded by an angry, purple bruise, far too obvious to go unnoticed. Geta felt bad about hitting you, that much was certain, but that didn’t change the fact that he had done so in the first place. To your unending humiliation, everyone, save for Caracalla, knew who caused it. Although a few days had passed since the incident, as you were calling it, your anger was still as fresh as ever. He had gone too far. Deep, deep down, though, you felt unfathomably guilty. You had also crossed some lines in your little argument. That didn’t change the fact that Geta had hit you. That, in of itself, was borderline unforgivable.

Perhaps, that was your modern sensibilities talking. A slap was nothing to an emperor of Rome, he was merely putting someone lesser in his place. That was how he saw you: lesser. Someone he could punish at his leisure. Geta hadn’t said that to you, but you were certain that was what he thought. 

Aelius had brought up that Caracalla nearly plucked out your eyes, to which you quickly argued that was different. That was before your relationship had blossomed. Then, Aelius reminded you that the twin emperors had gone behind your back with Marianus’ execution, leaving you floundering ever so slightly. That was different too! In the end, Marianus was alive, and he would stay that way, if Geta’s word was to be trusted. If Geta and Caracalla had killed him, surely you would never speak to either again. 

Surely.

Maybe you caught remorse on Geta’s features when you allowed your glare to meet his, and perhaps, if he would simply apologize, you would forgive him. That was all you asked for — though, you never said it aloud, you simply sent telekinetic waves that you were positive Geta was receiving — a true and genuine apology. Then, you would follow with one of your own. As upset as you were, you knew you weren’t entirely innocent. You doubted anyone else in the empire could say they threw a stylus at Emperor Geta and lived to tell the tale. But, you would be damned if you were the one to approach first, not after he had left you juggling Caracalla’s temper everytime he so much as glanced at the wound on your face. 

The morning after he had soothed you, he had completely forgotten about the night before. To say Caracalla was incensed when he saw someone had hurt you would be an understatement. He was practically inconsolable, screaming about executions and retribution. It took an hour to get him back to breathing normally, where he had curled in your lap while you rocked him. Not once did you tell him that it was Geta who did you harm. That would have been half-decent revenge, siccing an irate Caracalla upon Geta for his transgressions, but that wasn’t what you wanted.

In the end, all you wanted was a god’s damned apology. Was that so much to ask for? 

Aelius looked up from the fabric he was stitching with a sigh, an exhausted shadow to his features. This was not the first time he had heard this monologue from you since the incident, nor would it be the last. “No, my friend, it is a reasonable request.”

“I think so too!” After that exclamation, you leaned over to examine his attempt at a horizontal mattress stitch. Once he got the basics down on fabric, you’d have him practice on a chunk of meat. If you could get your hands on one. “You’re performing well. Keep your hands steadier, however. Your stitching is not particularly tight, and it must be very tight.”

He nodded, focusing back on his work. “I understand.” 

The two of you fell back into a companionable silence. For once, Caracalla was elsewhere, and Geta was either on a ladder watching from the window, or off attending to his imperial duties. Your knee bounced as words bubbled up in your throat, unbidden, oft repeated these days, and surely annoying by this point. 

“Do you believe he will apologize?”

Aelius glanced up from his work, a single eyebrow raised. “An emperor? Apologize? I know that is what you want, and I know it is a simple request, but you must realize it is not realistic.” 

“I know!” You shouted, throwing down your needle and thread. Quieter now, you slumped and placed your head in your hands. In your exasperation, your fingertips pulled at your eyelids. “I am going to have to swallow my pride and apologize first, I know it.”

“I am glad you realize that, at least,” Aelius noted while he began another row. 

A huff left you, and you crossed your arms. “Well, if I must apologize, I will do it in my own time. Emperor Geta will have to wait.”

“He has already waited three days, what is another handful?” 

The sarcasm and the eyeroll were not lost on you. Softening, you placed a concerned hand on Aelius’ shoulder. “You sound frustrated.”

Letting out a sigh, Aelius let the fabric drop to his lap. “Of course, I am frustrated, medicus. I have spent days listening to your grievances about our Caesar, like a lovesick boy before manhood. If you were anyone else, a slap would be the least of your worries! He would have you beheaded!” 

“I am not lovesick.”

He threw his hands up in the air. “I should not be surprised that this is the part you focus on! My care and affection for you runs deep, my friend, but I cannot coddle you. Surely, you understand that the fact that you have not been crucified, or thrown into the arena, is proof enough of his regret.” 

“I know, but I cannot let his transgression go unpunished,” You argued. A beat passed, mostly punctuated by Aelius’ unamused expression, before you spoke again, “Do I really sound lovesick?” 

“Deeply,” Aelius snapped. 

“Well, I am not. I am in love with another.”

“I am aware. If we are not talking about one, we are speaking of the other.” Lamenting with a long suffering sigh, Aelius allowed his posture to slump as he began stitching once more. “I cannot escape the Caesarēs no matter where I turn.”

It took you a moment for you to swallow your disgruntled response. He was right, as of the past few days, all you had done was vent. Aelius was a very good friend for putting up with it for as long as he had. Especially, considering that the topics of conversation involved two people he despised. “Thank you for listening to me, Aelius. I fear I have been selfish.”

He paused his motions to reach up and flick you on the shoulder. “Poor taste in men aside, I am your friend. I listen because I care. It is simply exasperating at times.”

“Dominus brings up a good point,” Justina’s familiar voice made you jump. 

You whipped around to see her leaning her hip against your desk. “Where did you come from?”

“She has been here for several minutes, my friend,” Aelius laughed, ignoring your furrowed brow. Turning to her, he addressed her, if not with a slight bit of hesitation. Despite being your frequent companion — and friend, if she would have you— Justina was still a slave of the emperors. “Would you mind reiterating my point? Perhaps hearing it from another will help him understand.”

Justina shook her head, disappointed. “Oblivious as ever, medicus, but dominus is right. If you were not the object of the Caesarēs affections, you would have been dead yesterday.”

You frowned. “Emperor Geta holds no affection for me. He hates me.”

“If he hated you, you would be dead,” Justina said with a shrug. “I have personally witnessed him order executions for far, far less than what you have done. Look at him. Do you not see him trail after you, staring at the mark he left like he had done you ill?”

“He did do me ill!” What part of that did these two not understand?

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Justina sighed and shook her head. “Emperor Geta has not felt remorse a day in his life until you came along. Tell me why I would not think he holds affection for you.” 

“I—I—” Turning to Aelius for support, you gestured expectantly at Justina. “Aelius, help!”

“She is right, my friend.”

“He does not have any affection for me. I know it to be true.”

“Then why are you not dead?” Justina questioned.

“Because of Caracalla!” 

She hummed, tilting her head from side to side. “I will let you believe that. For now.” 

“Believe, or not, I know it to be true, so I will not dwell on Emperor Geta’s supposed ‘affections’ for any longer.” To punctuate yourself, you stomped your foot and tilted your chin upwards before you remembered why Justina had come. As fast as you had steeled yourself, your body fell back into loose expectancy. “Well, Justina, any news?”

To her credit, she only regarded you with a raise of her eyebrows instead of the facepalm the twitching of her finger betrayed. “He is eating again, medicus, even if slight, and he continues to sleep fitfully.”

For the past few days, as Justina was one of Geta’s personal slaves that took care of affairs in the background, such as cleaning and laundry, you had asked her to keep an eye on him. Not because you cared, of course. After he had slapped you, he could curl up and die under a rock. It was the simple fact that Rome wouldn’t be able to survive with only Caracalla at the helm. For as much as you wanted Geta to suffer one thousand lashes for what he had done to you, the idea that he was wasting away put you on edge. That was why you were relieved when you found out he had begun to take care of himself again. 

No other reason.

“That is not ideal, but it calms me to hear,” You said, placing your hand over your heart.

Above your head, Aelius and Justina shared an eyeroll. Though you couldn’t see it, you sensed it, your lips pursed into a thin line. You knew what they were thinking. Poor, lovesick medicus, so oblivious to his feelings for the man who struck him. It was going to drive you insane, you were sure of it. Yes, you cared about Geta still, you could admit that, but it didn’t run any deeper than that. Despite your conviction, there was this little glimmer of doubt in your chest that you desperately tried to ignore. 

Before you could say something — whatever it may have been, it likely would have dug your grave deeper — Caracalla whirled into your clinic in a frenzy. He didn’t acknowledge either Aelius or Justina, his full attention fixated on you, arms outstretched and palms tilted upwards. 

“Oh, my Alga, did you miss me? Are you well? You have not deteriorated further without me here, have you?” 

Caracalla was always a doting man when it came to those he loved — that list consisting of only you and Dondas, his pet monkey, as far as you could tell — but ever since he saw that cut on your cheek, it had become more intense than ever. Adorned in jewels and one of his finer togas that he had yet to ruin with his roughness, he brushed past Justina to cradle your face in his hands. His thumb brushed against the cut, then pressed against it, earning a startled yelp from you.

“It is still sore, Caesar, be gentle,” You scolded.

“We are alone, melimelum. Call me Caracalla.” He nuzzled his forehead against yours, his eyes falling shut as he breathed you in. 

“We are not alone.”

He let out a puff of air as he finally acknowledged the other two in the room, much to their chagrin. Sparing Justina only a glance, his eyes settled on Aelius for far too long. There was a hint of jealousy in his clenched jaw that was quickly snuffed when you placed your hand over his. Finally, he turned his softened gaze back to you, an indulgent smile on his lips. “Oh, melimelum, it is only a slave and a soldier. We are practically alone.” 

“Do not be rude.” Behind your head, you could feel Aelius glaring daggers at you. You felt your lips pull back in an apologetic grimace he couldn’t see. Only Caracalla did, causing him to tilt his head in confusion before he decided it wasn’t worth his effort to extract the reason from your tight lips. Right, don’t draw attention to your friends, even to defend them. It would not be appreciated. You would have to remember that.

Caracalla scoffed, his gaze flickering back to Aelius, “It is not rude! It is true!” 

You opened your mouth to continue hammering in the fact that he needed manners before you decided against it. Caracalla was an emperor, and they were not. He did not need manners, not even when speaking to patricians. For all intents and purposes, he could say and believe whatever he wanted. Snapping your jaw shut, you relented, “Of course, Caracalla.”

“Good, dulcis,” Caracalla praised, his voice husky as he leaned closer. Heat flooded your cheeks. Though he didn’t care, you were very aware of your audience. Ever so slightly, you leaned back before he could capture your lips in what was sure to be a searing kiss. His eyebrows furrowed, mouth twitching into a frown. “Bad, dulcis.”

“Don’t you have duties to attend, kitty?” While Caracalla visibly wilted at the reminder that he had an actual job to do today, he preened at the nickname. You had told him the word meant ‘brave’ in your language. What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

“I do, I simply came to do this.” This time, he was too fast for you to react. Caracalla pressed his lips to the cut on your cheek in a tender way that left your heart pounding. “There. Now you will heal faster with my love on your skin.”

You were far too endeared to correct him on the matter. “Yes, that makes sense.”

Caracalla beamed, proud. “Does it not? Now, goodbye, dulcissimus, stay sweet for your Caracalla’s return.” 

In the same whirlwind that he had arrived, he left, the doors of your clinic slamming shut behind him. You were surprised they had yet to fall off the hinges due to the constant rough treatment. That was a far quicker visit than any of the previous ones. Much to your relief, considering who you were with, he decided to go without your touch. Normally, he would pull you into a heated kiss, which would devolve into him humping into your hand. Your wrist still ached from the amount of quickies he had demanded from you between meetings. As if you had any right to complain, you indulged him rather ecstatically if the speed he found release was anything to go by. 

Justina’s comment confirmed your suspicions that he was shirking his duties to see you. Again. 

“Emperor Caracalla is late to his meeting with Senator Gracchus. It was supposed to start ten minutes ago.” 

Aelius was relaxed now that Caracalla was gone and placed his head in his hand, elbow resting on his knee. “That, or perhaps he left in the middle to attend to his lover.”

“I hope not, he can barely do his job as is,” You grumbled, albeit fond at the notion. Being wanted was a new concept for you, and you found yourself desperate for more, despite the logical part of you knowing there would be consequences. 

Justina turned her ever sharp stare towards you, a small smile on her lips. “I have been in service to the emperors since I was a child, and if there is one thing I can tell you with certainty, it is that you are the third most powerful man in Rome.”

“I am not,” You were quick to deny.

Aelius gave you a small push. “My friend, you have that man at your beck and call.”

Justina agreed with a nod of her head, “The only thing keeping him from erecting a statue of you in the forum is partly his imperial brother, and the fact that you would be displeased.”

She was right, you would be rather irritated. He better not start having public artwork commissioned for you. That would be beyond embarrassing. “How do you know that?”

“Emperor Caracalla has a bad habit of talking to himself when he considers himself alone,” She said with a shrug. “He is often not alone.” 

You laughed at that, the topic of the emperors fading away for the first time in days in the face of artisans that Justina and Aelius preferred. It was nice to be in the company of friends, exasperated as they were at your insistence to recognize the reality of your situation. Because, and you were pleased to say this with certainty, that was what this was. Reality. Not some silly romance novel, or a comedy where everyone always pined for who they couldn’t have, this was your life. Justina and Aelius were far too fixated on their own interpretation of events rather than what actually happened. Geta was not fond of you by any stretch of the word, the fact that he hit you was proof of that. 

Not once in your entire life had someone hit you. Not your parents, not your bullies, only a man who, allegedly, was obsessed with you. If he truly cared, he wouldn’t feel driven to cause you physical harm in the first place. That was your stance, and you were sticking to it. 

Though, you couldn’t deny that what Geta had said during your fight echoed in your head. That he needed you before he had squandered whatever that meant by calling you a whore. His brother’s whore. He told you how Caracalla would never be able to understand the depth of your feelings — but he could, was left unsaid, you realized with a start. Beside you, Aelius and Justina chattered mindlessly, each growing more comfortable in the other’s company the longer they spent in it. You, on the other hand, felt sweat begin to form on your temple. Surely, that wasn’t what he meant. It was impossible for him to feel anything but contempt for you. Clutching your tunic tight in your fist, you remembered that you had never apologized to Geta for what was said at the party. You still could not remember what it was, but perhaps, if you knew, it would help everything about this whole, awful mess slot into place. 

That drunken night had to be the final piece of the puzzle that you were missing. It was no excuse, there would never be any excuse in your book for being hit, but knowing would help you understand. Despite everything that Geta had done, you desperately wanted to understand him. A part of you yearned for him. Upon that thought, you felt your eyes widen and your breath catch in your throat. That was ridiculous. You couldn’t yearn for Geta, not when you were already in love with his brother. The edges of your vision began to blur as your breathing picked up. With Caracalla so determined to not give you a moment alone, you hadn’t had time to truly examine your feelings in depth. All you knew was that Geta had hurt you. Not the fact that his desperation lit a fire in you that you didn’t know if you could put out, not the fact that you had done him ill too, thrown his deepest insecurities back into his face, and not the fact that you found Geta to be one of the most uniquely beautiful men you had ever laid eyes on.

Apology from him be damned, you needed to fix this. 

“Medicus, are you alright?” Aelius started to ask, but you were already on your feet.

Turning to Justina, you asked, “Where’s Geta? I need to speak with him.”

She gave you a knowing look, satisfaction raw in her smile. “In his office. Good luck, medicus.” 

That was all you needed to hear before you took off. You were pleased to be in one of your preferred tunics rather than the ones Caracalla continued to gift you. They were far too long and complex for you to properly run in. At least, not without lifting the hem like some sort of princess from a Disney film. This tunic was as simple as ever, an eggshell color, the only intricacies being the golden thread embroidered along the bottom. It ended at your knees, making it easy for your feet to fly the short trip to Geta’s office. If he was listening, he was sure to hear your heart hammering beyond the entryway. That, or the sound of your sneakers squeaking against marble. 

You raised your first to knock, only to pause before your knuckles could touch the wall. Was this really a good idea? Geta wasn’t the easiest man to get along with, even when he was in a good mood. If his behavior the past few days was anything to go by, he would not be happy to see you. While you knew he regretted his actions, getting an apology was another problem entirely. Aelius and Justina were right, expecting one from an emperor was unrealistic. Still, that didn’t change the fact that you deserved it. Those two words weren’t even a necessity, simply a promise that he would never do it again would be enough. That wasn’t too much to ask for.

With that in mind, you knocked.

“Enter,” Came Geta’s imperial command, and you did just that. One foot after the other, you stepped into his office, intending to wear your heart on your sleeve. It would all be okay after this. All you had to do was communicate. Geta was a logical man, he would understand. 

When he lifted his head from his desk to catch sight of you, a myriad of emotions flickered across his face, too quick for you to read. He settled on a frustrated glower, raising his chin to look down his nose at you. “There you are, Alga. Do you have something you would like to say to me? I have waited quite some time.” 

You felt your temper flare at that, though you forced it as deep as it would go. It seemed Geta expected an apology from you. That wasn’t a surprise, you had cut deep, and you were sorry for saying it. What irritated you so much was the fact that Geta didn’t seem incensed to apologize himself when he was the one who had hit you.

“I have come to apologize, Caesar.” In the end, you decided to be the bigger person. Certainly, that would pave the high road for Geta to dare to put his high and mighty shoe upon it. “And talk about what transpired a few days ago.” 

Geta hummed and turned his attention back to the wax tablet open on his desk. With his stylus, he scribbled a few words down before closing it with a flick of his wrist. He looked tired, and he refused to look at your cheek, fingers toying with each other. When your gaze found his hand, you realized he was missing a ring. 

“What is there to discuss besides your remorse, Alga?” Looking you up and down, he sat back and leaned his head on his fist. “I expected more groveling. You continue to be a disappointment.”

“Excuse me?” You felt your shoulders square and your voice pitch with indignation. “What is there to discuss, Caesar? You put your hands on me!” 

The only sign of a flinch was a twitch of his eye. Again, he looked at the bruise on your cheek, deep purple and angry, before giving an uninterested sniff. “I do not see why you’re so upset. You are the one who did me ill. Retribution was necessary.” 

“You had no right to hit me!” The exclamation left you before you could stop it. You crossed the room with purposeful strides and slammed your hands upon Geta’s desk. He regarded you with an unimpressed look. 

“I am unmoved by your childish display, Alga.”

“Childish? Childish?!” You all but shrieked. This was not going how you wanted it, but it was hard to control your stubborn temper. You knew what was right and what was wrong, where Geta seemed to be confused. Shoving your finger in his face, you continued, “How dare you call me childish when you cannot even admit your obvious remorse!” 

He swatted your hand to the side and puffed out his chest. Regal, like a falcon, or perhaps a peacock, all beauty, no real bite. Merely a pomposity that you previously believed was unachievable. “My obvious remorse? Why should I feel any regret for what transpired when you are the one who doesn’t show a hint of remorse?”

“I do feel bad, I do! That is why I came to you, but you cannot truly believe that you did no wrong!” It was hard to get your thoughts in order in the face of Geta’s insistence to lack empathy. It was so simple, so easy to see, why didn’t he understand? All he had to do was show even the barest inkling of remorse and this would be over. Why could he not indulge you with this one request? Did he not say himself that he would give you everything?

“An emperor does not regret, Alga,” He sneered, and you felt tears burn in your eyes. “Or, perhaps, I am nothing more than ‘a child with laurels’ to you, as you so eloquently spoke. Is that why you feel so deserving?” 

“Nobody has the right to hit another, Caesar!” Geta of all people should know this. He knew intimately what violence could do to another’s mind, and yet he insisted on this ridiculous refusal to acknowledge his wrongs. 

What he said next was nearly enough to break you. “I am your Imperator, and I will do as I please! Perhaps another good smack will help you learn your place!”

Clenching your fists, you lowered your chin to glare at him under your eyebrows. A snarl made your lips pull back. You decided to let him know the truth of the matter. “Lay your hands on me, and I will never forgive you. You will be dead to me, Caesar. Any fondness I once held for you will turn to nothing, and I will despise you.”

Geta visibly flinched at that, a muscle in his jaw jumping. He stood, his breathing heavy, seemingly at war with himself. Staring at the fury on your face, the cut he left behind twisted and marred, he steeled himself once more. “You need to be put in your place.”

“Is that what your father said to you?”

“What?” That seemed to get his attention. Maybe that was what he needed to hear, a reminder of who he could become if he wasn’t careful. Geta needed to know the line he was in danger of crossing, and maybe you were petty enough to feel satisfied that you were the one telling him. 

“You heard me, Imperator, is that what your father said to you before he hit you?” Geta was frozen, his eyes wide and unseeing. You took your opportunity to continue before he could put an end to it. “Do you not see where your logic leads you? I spoke out of turn, so I must be punished. You are my better, so you had a right to put me in my place. I know you regret it, Caesar, so why won’t you admit it?!” 

He was quiet for a moment, his pupils flickering as he processed what you said. Finally, he murmured, “… You believe me and my father to be the same.”

“What? No, Caesar, I am simply trying to—”

“Get out.” Geta was deceptively calm before his features crossed into white hot fury. His fist was clenched so tight, his fingers had bit into his palm. Droplets of blood splattered onto the ground next to him. 

It was now that you realized that you had gone too far. Still, you believed yourself to be right, if only he would let you speak. 

“Please, listen to me!”

“Out!” Geta picked up the wax tablet and reared back to throw it at you. A whimper ripped from your throat as you brought up your hands to cover your face. A part of you felt like you deserved this, braced for certain impact. To your surprise, nothing came. There was no shout, no clatter, no blow, only desperate, heavy breathing. When you stopped cowering, you saw him staring at you, his face torn with agonizing realization. As fast as it came, he fell into numbness, his arm collapsing against his side. There was no emotion left in his voice. “Leave.”

A beat passed, cold enough to make you shiver. For a moment, you feared you had broken him. Maybe now was the wrong time to bring this up, remind him of the man he seemed so desperate to forget. 

“I know you think I have gone too far, but I need you to listen to me. You are not your father, that was not what I meant, only that—”

“You did,” He said, as empty as before. “Leave.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you, I only want you to understand.” It was all you could do to apologize, regret and guilt swelling in your gut with enough force to make you sick. 

“Do not make me beg,” He intoned, voice hollow. 

You had to fix this. Someway, somehow, you had to take back what you said. Dress it up nicer, neater, with a bow so that he could see that you were trying to help him. “Please don’t make me leave, Caesar. We can talk, all we need is to talk.”

“You cannot even bring yourself to say my name.” Geta’s voice was strangled, his eyes glassy as his nostrils flared. Choked, with only a thread of control left, he repeated, desperate and pleading, “Leave. Do not make me beg.” 

A breath left you, and Geta turned away to stare at the wall. You watched him for a moment, his arms curled under his belly in the facsimile of a hug. There was nothing left to say. Not even when you saw his shoulders jump and a cut off sob rip from him. It should be you who was hurt and crying, it should be you who felt the other had gone too far, but it wasn’t. Being right didn’t matter anymore, not when you had done harm so intensely that you realized there was no going back. The least you could do was give Geta the privacy he requested. Despite this, you took a step closer and reached for him, only to pull back before your fingers could brush against him. You needed to leave.

He raised his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, his tears made obvious by his choked command, “Go!” 

Against your better judgement, you obeyed. It was only when the door clicked behind you did you hear it: the proof that Geta and his brother were more similar than either could admit. You supposed that was why he had you leave. If only so he didn’t feel your eyes on him when he finally broke, destroying his office and screaming obscenities. 

In only one interaction, you had done more harm to Geta than only one other man had achieved. That realization was what sent you leaning out the nearest window, vomiting your dinner onto the story below. 

It was night now, the moon high; time for bed if there ever was one. Behind you, Geta’s anguished cries echoed through the halls, and you fought the urge to return to him. It was never a comforting fact to realize that you were in danger of continuing the cycle, of being the perpetrator rather than the victim. Wiping the bile from your chin, you clutched your stomach as it continued to churn. What you did was not a kindness, but a necessity, no matter how painful. You only wish you had done it better, sat down and spoke with Geta about how easy it was to fall into bad habits. Abuse wasn’t always a cruelty, but sometimes, when it was all you knew, it could be learned and ingrained into you in ways that are nearly impossible to unravel. Caracalla was not free from this fate, either. You loved him, but you were not foolish enough to deny the fact that he was a cruel and sadistic man to those he considered beneath him. 

A groan built in your throat. If Geta handled this poorly, you could only imagine how badly Caracalla would take it. The thought of hurting him so thoroughly made your head ache as regret from how your most recent argument with Geta ended made your vision blur at the edges. You were so tired. This was for the best, but the guilt threatened to suffocate you, seizing your lungs in a tight grasp, never to let go. There was a likelihood that Geta would never forgive you, and the idea made you want to turn around to beg for forgiveness.

“He needed to hear it,” You muttered to yourself, desperate for some form of assurance. “If he is ever going to get better, he needed to hear it.”

That was all you could hope for. That Geta would take your words to heart, maybe heal from his open, gaping wounds. They had been infected, still oozing pus when you had arrived in Rome. You prayed that you had carved the disease from him just now, and though Geta was left raw, maybe, maybe, they would finally close. That was your end goal after all, you were the emperor’s physician. Sometimes, it took a harsh truth for the mind to heal.

Quiet despite the tears that welled in your eyes, you crept into your bedroom. The torches were doused and soft snores emitted from a lump under the covers. Caracalla had come to bed without you, likely exhausted from the multitude of meetings he was forced to attend today. That was what he got for scheduling everything to only a handful of days a year in an effort to do less work. He told you so, quite proud of his plan. You couldn’t bring yourself to tell him how ridiculously stupid his idea was. Fondness helped undercut that horrible feeling of helplessness in your chest. Despite your affirmations that you had not done Geta ill on purpose, that this would help him in the long run, you couldn’t help the way your knees knocked, nor nausea in your stomach. 

“Kitty,” You whispered as you crawled into bed. Gently, you roused him by shaking his shoulder. “Caracalla. Wake up.”

He groaned and blinked at you, eyes bleary. “What is it, Algacula? I was asleep.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” When he heard how tight your voice was he sat up, covers falling from his bare chest. Caracalla tended to sleep naked, a fact you quickly grew used to the longer he shared your bed. 

His hands found your face as he pushed you to lay down. It was hard to see him in the dark, though he was close enough to see his eyes narrow while he inspected you. “What is wrong with you? Who has done you harm? I will have them slaughtered.”

“I am the one who has done harm,” You said with a thick sniffle. 

“Oh.” Caracalla blinked at you and laid back down. Lifting his arm, he gestured for you to fall against him, an invitation you accepted with vigor. “… And you are sad? You are so silly. My pathetic little medicus.” 

“It was your brother. I upset him. I was right, but I upset him.” The confession tasted like ash on your tongue, though Caracalla didn’t seem bothered. 

“Geta is always upset, Alga. A little more than usual will not break him.” Caracalla inhaled deeply, a pleased hum leaving him as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. “Let me sleep now, your Imperator has had a long day.”

Caracalla fell back asleep within a minute, but you were left awake, alone with your thoughts. Geta was not the most emotional man, to cause him enough distress for him to fall into an outburst reminiscent of his brother’s weighed heavily on your conscience. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t let yourself drift off. In your chest, there was this irrational fear that…

That Geta wouldn’t be able to take it. You were terrified that when you woke up in the morning, you would find him gone. Curling into a ball, a shiver overtook your frame. Leaving him was wrong, you should have stayed. Privacy be damned, you wouldn’t have left Caracalla. You had remained by his side, even while he hit you in his frenzy, determined to calm him. 

That, you had forgiven easily because he was not in his right mind. The needle, you had brushed past because you knew Caracalla to be a terror, that was simply in line with what you expected from him. Threats, blindness, sadism, cruelty, they all came to your lover as easily as breathing. Geta, you hadn’t afforded the same level of patience because he seemed to be much more stable. Above the same impulsive violence as his brother. Now, in the dead of night, wallowing in your own regret, you feared you would lose him because of it. 

You knew you were right, but you should have afforded Geta the same gentleness that you gave Caracalla. Lodged in your brain like an ice pick, you couldn’t stop turning over the idea that, if you didn’t find him, if you didn’t stand by Geta’s side fast enough, he would—

Oh, dear god, what if Geta killed himself?

It wasn’t until you sat up and threw your feet over the edge of the bed, Caracalla grumbling behind you, did your bedroom door fly open and hit the wall with a deafening crack. 

“Medicus!” Came Geta’s cracking scream. He rushed into your room, his throat clutched in one hand, the other tangled in the fabric against his chest. The only noise you registered aside from Caracalla’s questioning groan was Geta’s ragged breathing. 

“Caesar, you’re alive!” Unable to keep the relief from your voice, you padded over to where Geta was pacing. The light spilling from the torches in the hallways illuminated his wide, bloodshot eyes. His face was pale. Naturally so, for once. He wasn’t wearing his makeup, possibly preparing for bed before he frenzied into your room.

Geta whipped around to face you, his features split into desperate terror. “I have been poisoned, medicus! I— I cannot breathe, I cannot— I cannot!”

Awake now, Caracalla let out a cry. “Who has poisoned my brother?” Uncaring of his nakedness, he stood, looking frantically between a panting Geta and the open door before making his decision. Wrapping a sheet around his waist, he began to scream, “Praetorians! My brother has been poisoned! Find him, find the perpetrator! Make him pay! Make him pay!” 

You paid Caracalla and the sound of thundering footsteps little mind, your full attention focused on Geta. Carefully, you led him to sit and began to take in his symptoms. His breathing was strained, and if the way he gripped his chest was anything to go by, his pulse was out of control. You pressed your fingers to his carotid artery, your suspicions quickly confirmed. 

“Symptoms, Caesar. Tell me what is happening,” You said, stern, but gentle.

Geta let out a warbling noise in the back of his throat and curled inward. “Did you not hear me? I cannot breathe!” 

“I know,” With your thumb, you pulled at his lips, inspecting for redness of lesions. There were none, and your eyebrows furrowed. “Have you vomited? Experienced dizziness?” 

“My stomach— stomach hurts,” He groaned between sharp inhales. 

Carefully, you examined him, poking at prodding at his face and body. Despite his symptoms, there were none of the usual indications of ingesting something dangerous. A realization tugged at you, and you felt your shoulders droop. Geta would not die, but this would not be easy. “Did you eat or drink?” 

“No, medicus, now heal me!” Geta barked before his voice fell into this terrible smallness, fear undercutting his desperation. “I do not want to die, Alga. Don’t let me die.”

Behind you, Caracalla let out a wail, holding his head tight between his hands. “Fix him, Alga! Fix my brother! That is what you are for, heal him! Heal him!” 

“He is not poisoned!” The quicker it was said, the faster you could calm both of them. “Emperor Geta will not die tonight, but he is not well. Call off the guards, Caracalla.” 

You flicked your wrist to shoo the guards at the door away to no avail. They continued to stand at attention, awaiting an order that may never come given both emperors' current states.

“What is the matter with him, then?” Caracalla shouted, furiously approaching. When he got closer, Geta startled, and jumped to his feet. Taking several shaking steps back, there was barely disguised terror on his features. Everytime Caracalla tried to get near, he would widen the distance once more. 

“Stay away from me, brother!”

“Why? Why should I listen to your commands when you can hardly control yourself?”

“Because I will only cause you pain. Stay away from me!” 

Caracalla froze, staring at his brother with narrowed eyes, though he no longer spoke. This gave you the opportunity to insert yourself between them and gently take Geta’s crumpled shoulders into your hands. “You need to breathe, Caesar. Do as I do.”

You tried to demonstrate even breathing, inhaling slowly through your mouth, then exhaling through your nose, only for Geta to rip himself from your grasp. “No! You stay away from me too!”

“No, not until you’re calm.” Pointing at the guards at the door, you shouted at Caracalla, “Send those men away!”

Thankfully, he listened, his sharp bark barely audible between the blood rushing in your ears and Geta’s breathing. 

“I deserve this, I deserve to suffer,” He exclaimed, placing his hands behind his neck and pulling his head down. Another keening noise left him, the sound bordering on a sob. “You will leave me, you will take my brother, or he will take you, and you will leave me alone. Hated! Despised!”

Caracalla had a mix of disgust and confusion on his face, his features scrunched. “I have never seen you cry before.” 

When you turned back to Geta, he lunged to grip your hands, desperation “Get him out! Make him leave! Don’t let him see me like this! Now, medicus, now!” 

“Caracalla, go,” You ordered. 

“We will not leave him,” He argued, throwing out one of his hands. “Why does Geta talk as though we will abandon him? He’s being stupid, tell him he’s being stupid, Alga.” 

With your hand still held in Geta’s, you felt him press his forehead against your fist. Barely audible, but you heard it, “Lies.” 

With a jerk of your head, you gestured to the door, though you tried to keep your expression soft. “Caracalla, go. Let me help Geta. I need to be alone with him.” 

Silence descended upon your bedroom, punctuated only by the sound of Geta’s gasping. Caracalla’s pupils flickered between you, standing tall, and Geta, hunched over and choking on sobs. He tensed, and you believed he would insist on staying, before he fixed you with a hard stare. “Make him better, or I will be very angry with you, Alga.” 

At least he had the wherewithal to close the door behind him when he left. 

Alone now, save for you, Geta fell to his knees and descended into a fit of weeping. He didn’t hug you, but his fingers dug into your ribcage as he buried his face into your stomach. 

“You were right,” He managed to choke out, muffled by the fabric of your tunic. Your hands found his hair, and like you did with Caracalla, you tried to soothe him by carding through the fiery strands. “I am becoming him. I am becoming my father. Let me die instead. Let the poison take me, I would rather that than let myself turn into a monster.”

“There is no poison, nor will I let you die,” You murmured. Another barked sob tore from his throat as he pulled you tighter against him. “You are having an attack. It is your mind causing you to experience these symptoms.”

“I am terrified.”

“Geta—”

He continued, uncaring that you were trying to speak, “Do not leave me. Never leave me. I beg of you, do not leave me alone, I will not survive it.” 

“I wouldn’t—”

“You would! Why can you not be mine too? Why must my brother have the one thing I cannot have?”

“I—”

“No! Do not tell me how much you hate me, I cannot take that now. Pretend you can stand me, pretend you can love me. Hold me as you would hold Caracalla. I will beg if I must, please—”

“I will.”

The conviction in your voice gave Geta pause. “What?”

“I will,” You repeated. “All I ask is that you breathe with me.”

“Yes— yes. Anything, so long as you lie to me a little longer…” He was cut off by another sob. 

Slowly, you filled your lungs, and with a shuddering breath, Geta followed. You held it for five seconds, then released it, petting the back of his head while he followed. The two of you remained like that for several minutes. Steadily, he began to calm, though his shoulders continued to jerk with barely stifled sobs. You knew he would be thoroughly humiliated by this display. He always kept himself in such tight control, the loss of that would make him furious with himself. It was important that you caught that before he fell into self-loathing. Geta was no stranger to brooding, you knew that well. 

He was the one who spoke first, his tone raw despite it being stable for the first time since he entered your room. “I don’t deserve this.”

“You do,” You said simply, causing him to shake his head. “Geta, do you think your father ever cried when he realized what he had done? I wasn’t… What I said to you, it wasn’t entirely true. I am a grown man, Caesar, you were a child, and he was your father. It is different.”

“I still struck you.” 

“You did.” Pulling him away from your stomach so you could look him in the eye, you placed your hands on either side of his face. “And I forgive you. Would you ever forgive your father?”

“No. Never,” He breathed. 

“Yet, I forgive you. Is that not proof enough that you are not him? You have the one thing he will never receive.” 

It almost seemed like he believed you before he swallowed it down. “I gave you that awful name.”

“Which one? Alga?” Confusion made you tilt your head to the side. 

He began to shake again, and you responded by slowly beginning to rock him. It helped, if only a little. “To call you something so cruel when you are anything but…”

“Geta, I like being called Alga. I do not care what it means, I like that you gave it to me,” You said with a small smile.

“You should not.” 

“Yet, I do.” Hefting him to his feet, you led him to your bed. He was unsteady, like a newborn fawn, his big, brown eyes fixated on you as if you were committing an act so strange. “Follow. It is time to rest.”

“What are you doing?”

“What I promised,” You said as you pressed him against the pillows. Geta let out a small huff, finally sounding like himself again. “Lay with me, Caesar.”

“Call me by my name.” There was an indignant note to his pleading as you gathered him in your arms. With his chin atop your head, he held you against his chest, fingers shaking as he mapped the contours of your face. You didn’t expect him to speak again until he did, “I am nothing without my brother, medicus. I have failed him too many times for him to ever truly forgive me. Do not—” Another sob squeaked through his clenched teeth, his arms tightening around you. “Do not leave me with nothing.” 

“Geta,” It was not the first time you called him by his name since he burst into your room, but it was the first you had done so knowingly. “I am not going to go anywhere. Neither is Caracalla.” You were rather sure he was far too codependent to even fathom the idea, though you kept that to yourself. “Sleep. We have much to discuss in the morning.” 

His chin knocked against your crown when he nodded. 

The two of you remained tangled for some time, and though you felt yourself relax, you could not sleep. Neither could Geta, it seemed. All he wanted to do was hold you, the only interruption to such a task coming in the form of the sunrise, or his jealous brother. The act made your chest flutter as the scent of roses filled your nose. 

Geta waited until he thought you were asleep to speak again. In truth, you nearly were, darkness spreading across your vision when you heard it. His fingers tightened in the fabric of your tunic, pressing you so close, you wondered if his ribcage would open up and engulf you. There was no denying it anymore. This was the final nail in the coffin, both a declaration and a confession whispered against the top of your head. 

“Meus vitus.”

A/N: First things first, meus vitus translates to ‘my life’ in Latin. Secondly, please don’t kill me with hammers. I know I probably deserve it after the angst slaughterhouse I just put Geta through, but god, it was so much fun to write. Please picture me, phone in hand, grinning evilly to myself while I tap away in my google docs. Yes, I’m aware I deserve tomatos thrown at me for my transgressions against Geta nation, but also… I have even more evil plans for arc two. This is NOTHING, I tell you. NOTHING.

I do think Geta skulking around Alga like a Dead By Daylight killer is so funny. You know damn well he thought his ass was hidden. Babygirl, you’re two inches off from being six feet tall, you’re climbable. You aren’t sneaky. He was literally like Rumplestiltskin in the Shrek movie, constantly in the background brooding miserably about hurting Alga. Because he does feel really bad about it. He’s just incapable of being vulnerable in any way unless he quite literally can’t control it. Hence why I had him have a panic attack of some kind. I hope he wasn’t too ooc…

Speaking of their fight, Alga is kind of very right here. It’s a deeply complex sort of conversation that’s very hard to have, and how it happened was not ideal. Though, considering Geta is a deeply insecure manchild, there is no possible way the conversation could ever go well. Even if he wasn’t the way he was, learning about how easy it is to continue that damned cycle is kind of a punch to the gut. It was one thing for Alga to… kind of throw his abuse in his face, that made him angry, and at first, he didn’t believe it. Alga’s perception of him hurt, but that didn’t mean it was true. That was, until he saw them cowering when he was about to throw a wax tablet at him, the very same way he had done with his father when he was young. That was when he realized how easy it was. And it’s not an easy realization to have when you’re emotionally mature and stable, two things Geta is not. It’s seriously such a complex moment that was incredibly hard to write and convey, I truly hope I did it justice.

If you noticed, he still hasn’t apologized for hitting Alga. Though, they did forgive him. I’m so serious, I genuinely think Geta is physically incapable of saying ‘I’m sorry,’ so as guilty as he feels, and his attempts to fix it, I don’t think we will ever get an apology out of him. Ever. :(

On a funnier note, Aelius is sooooo sick of hearing about Alga’s awful ass boyfriend. Being sick of your friends stupid manthing transcends time and space everybody. And, in line with that, you know how Justina was spying on Geta for Alga? Well, she was spying on Alga for Geta too. A lot less willingly, but Geta is very aware that Justina spends time with Alga, so he took that as a sign that she can keep an eye on them for him when he can’t. Along with that, he also probably complained about how much he “”hates”” Alga to her, and how awful they are, and how their stupid hair always catches his attention. Blah blah blah, she’s so sick of these gay people, I’m so serious.

Onto Caracalla, who, FOR ONCE, didn’t take over the chapter. I’m not sorry for loving him. I’ve been meaning to implement the ‘kitty’ nickname for him for a while now. I call him ‘Kittycalla’ with my friends, and I think it’s so very, very cute. He’s just a little kitty <33 And, his evil plan to get no work done is purposely reminiscent of that one Parks and Rec episode where April scheduled all of Ron’s meetings for that one day, thinking it was a fake day. That’s what Caracalla does. Don’t bother him until the Ides, and then everyone bothers him. He’s so mad about it.

Lastly, Caracalla did one hundo percent catch Geta and Alga cuddling. And, yes, he was jealous, but he didn’t throw a fit. For once. All he did was curl up on the other side of Alga and stare at his brother. And Geta stared back at him. The whole night. A knowing kind of look, mixed with anger, and envy, and a little bit of concern. Caracalla kind of realizes at this point he has to share Alga with Geta, and he’s not happy about it. But, for as complex as the twins’ relationship with each other is, I do think Caracalla does love Geta. Not the same doting love he affords Alga and Dondas, but the kind of sibling love where there’s no one he resents more than Geta, but there’s no one who understands him more than Geta. No matter what he does to him, his brother will always be there for him. Perhaps, just this one time, so hopefully Geta will never, ever request something of him again, Caracalla will relent. This once.

And!!! That’s it!!! Again, please don’t kill me, but also don’t hold back on your reaction to this chapter. It fuels me… As always, thank you for reading, it means so much to me!!! Until next time :3

tag list: @snazzynacho , @t6gse370 , @cherrysweets-world , @justlibra , @001mon

[mysumeow]

──YANDERE ACE DRABBLE

ᓚᘏᗢ WARNINGS: Reader is referred to with gendered terms like girl. Yandere Ace. ᓚᘏᗢ SUMMARY: Headmage Crowley assures reader he found a way back home. Ace attempts to impede it. ᓚᘏᗢ WORD COUNT: 984 ᓚᘏᗢ A/N: Ace as a yandere is a thought that greatly amuses me. He's a silly mix between a tsun and a yandere which is kinda ironic within inself but I find the idea fun. I had this halfway written and today i decided to revisit it to finish it haha. I'm trying to finish the many drabbles I've abandoned D:

⸝⸝⸝

Ace holds on to his claim of him liking you only as a friend (... sort of) as if his life depended on it. Even if he sabotages any means of your escape from Twisted Wonderland.

First, he tries to make you doubt Crowley’s veracity.

“The headmage told you that? The headmage?” He repeated it slowly. “You’re trusting that guy after everything he has put you through?”

Headmage Crowley was, with little room for argument, not the most trustworthy person on this land. Yes, he has his instances of being helpful, but you can count the number of said instances on your fingers.

That’s why Ace’s concern didn’t seem too far-fetched to you.

“I could at least try it.” However, you were dreaming of returning home from the first time you sat foot in this place. You couldn’t just give up like that.

“What if it fails and it kills you?”

The weight with which he blurted those words took you off guard—he’d said them with absolute conviction.

“Are you... perhaps worried about me?”

“You’re a naïve, magicless girl who knows nothing of this world. I’m simply looking out for you,” he was quick to retort, as if offended by your conclusion. “Don’t read too much into it.”

“Aw, you’re worried about me,” you teased him. “You’re such a good friend, Ace.” you reached out to pinch his cheek.

“I’m not,” he swatted your hand away, both tips of his ears and cheeks growing red. “Geez, you can be annoying sometimes.”

Used to his attitude, you just chuckled at his response. You couldn’t help but wonder why everyone in this stupid college was at this level of emotional constipation. And if not everyone, a good portion of the student body wasn’t an exception.

Ace racked his brain trying to convince you to stay. He couldn’t waltz into the Magic Mirror’s chambers like he owned the place and destroy it, nor could he threaten the headmage. All he had left was to convince you not to go back to your world. Or implant fear into the fatal what-ifs of the mirror malfunctioning. Deceive you.

His words were half truths. Yes, there were a couple of cases of the mirror sending living beings into another dimension, but they were presumably dead since the subjects never reported back, nor did they send any signal of making it out alive.

But it was a long, long time ago. Maybe millennia. Since then, the arts of magic have strengthened and perfected, minimizing the margin of error. It was plausible for the headmage to have found an irrefutable way back to your universe.

A fact Ace didn’t like one bit. To the point he sneaked into Professor Trein’s office and seized one of those old dust-covered books that archived many accidents that happened because of the mirror.

Sleepovers at Ramshackle happen often enough for Riddle to not even bat an eye when Ace must report to him that he’s going to spend the night over there.

“Oh, do come back with this homework done, Trappola,” Riddle dropped the pile of textbooks on Ace’s awaiting palms. Of course, much to Ace’s dismay. “I’ll personally revise it and do corrections if needed. Am I not such a great housewarden?”

Ace had a couple of thoughts that would differ from that claim, but he nodded along, not fond of the idea of getting collared.

The next step of his plan consisted of roping Deuce into lying to you as well. It wouldn’t be easy, given that he tended to be more sincere (in comparison to himself)... However, no matter how much Deuce attempted to be a goody two shoes, the fact that the news of you going back home would devastate him increased the chances of it being easier to convince him.

Ace surmised such, at least.

“Leaving? The headmage actually found a way to…?” Deuce trailed off, an evident ache within his chest. After some contemplation, Deuce accepted the inevitable. Deep down, he knew the day would arrive. Eventually. Although he’d hoped for it to be later. “I-I’m glad about it! I really am. You know how important of a deal that is.” To go back to where you belong and see your loved ones…

“That’s not the point, Deuce.”

“Then which is it?”

“The problem is that you both are blindly trusting that headmage’s word. Everybody knows how unreliable he can be. Don’t you think so?”

Deuce opened his mouth to refute; yet the longer he thought about it, he couldn’t come up with any good argument.

“Well, Crowley can be reliable. Sometimes.”

Ace’s lack of conviction was evident in his deadpan expression.

“Are we talking about the same guy? The one who abandons us to our own devices during hardships? The one who made the prefect deal with these past overblots? A magicless student, at that.”

“Okay, fine. I get it. You’ve got a good point there. What should we do, then?”

“We’ve got to convince the prefect to not head into the mirror. I borrowed a book. It contains logs of past attempts to send people back through it. None of them successful.”

Deuce eyed the book. “Those happened a long time ago.”

“Yeah, but the prefect doesn’t need to know that detail, duh!” Ace rolled his eyes.

“Ace—” Deuce caught the meaning behind Ace’s words, and, as much as he wished for your friendship to not come to an end, there was a voice nagging him at the back of his mind. “We can’t do that.”

“Don’t be a wimp about it.”

Deuce clenched his fist. “Hey!”

“And we’re not doing this for ourselves—we’re doing this for the safety of our prefect.”

Despite a certain sense of doubt pestering him, that was enough convincing for Deuce. This wasn’t for himself or for Ace. It was for you.

Yes, that’s the sole reason. He assured himself.

[inc0mple]

The Peris Ravenell Post: why you should read Keys Are People Too for this soggy excuse of a man

This is a lengthy post, which is why I added the… thingy, whatever it’s called… but I promise promise it’s entertaining and it also took me like two days to put together when I’m supposed to be writing Chapter 120. That chapter’s sad, okay, I need to get out the feels by bullying Ravenell some, aight.

I recommend at least scrolling through. Especially if you know nothing about Keys Are People, Too. And also if you do.

Okay, first things first:

THIS IS WHAT PERIS RAVENELL FROM KEYS ARE PEOPLE TOO LOOKS LIKE, OKAY

I have tried to draw him on a multitude of occasions and it's given people misconceptions. He does NOT look like Abraham Lincoln, he does NOT look like a twink, he is NOT a himbo. He's just a stupid perpetually bewildered man. AND THIS IS THE ALWAYS AND FOREVER REFERENCE FOR HIS APPEARANCE

Ok thanks. NOW:

If y'all are on the fence about reading Keys Are People Too PLEASE, READ IT FOR THIS MAN

I HAVE A LIST OF REASONS FOR WHY HE IS THE BEST WORST

Reason 1: He Has Iconic Moments

This man is the most stupid, inconvenient man to ever exist. He is perpetually confused and perpetually confusing. The worst part is he wasn’t even supposed to be, he was supposed to be a background character without hardly any substance. Well he’s still gossamer, in ways, but he has also muscled his way into the plot for no reason other than to DRIVE CHASE CRAZY and provide a character foil to… *checks notes* is this supposed to say “the monkey”???

Someone (me) is unable to track these down at the moment so check the comments for iconic moments (comment your favorite Ravenell moments do my dirty work pleeeease)

Reason 2: We Love To Roast Him

So if you’re in the fan server or the AO3 comments you might not understand this completely, so let me indoctrinate you into the objective best view of Peris Ravenell: in that he is a pathetic, wimpy, soggy man and we love him for it. He doesn’t know how to dance. He doesn’t know how to cook. If his wife actually liked them they would be the epitome of girlboss/boyfailure. He’s like if margarine was a man. “I Can’t Believe It’s Not Better.” Except one look at him and it’s very easy to believe.

These are so easy to rattle off. I could go for hours.

And screw you, maybe I will.

So... yeah. It's the funniest thing ever. That is in fact, fact.

Reason 3: We Ship Him With Tree Guy From "Love Between the Christmas Trees"

If you have not read “Love Between the Christmas Trees” by proseburia on AO3, you are missing out. Not only is it a very well written and funny story, it includes Ravenell’s one, always and forever love, Tree Guy.

His name is Nick. We don’t call him Nick.

Prose’s story revolves around Chase and Deacon going into a Hallmark movie style book, in which they meet Chase’s character’s love interest, Tree Guy—a lumberjack who loves all things to do with Christmas and his hometown. Like Ravenell, Tree Guy is so straight he can hardly turn corners.

Naturally this means we head-canon them as secretly in love forever and ever, the bromance of the century, a duo so dynamic NASA wants to study it.

I even started making fanart of them, but… I stopped. Because I got lazy.

*REMEMBER, RAVENELL DOES NOT LOOK LIKE THIS! HE LOOKS LIKE THE FIRST IMAGE IN THIS POST! DO NOT TRUST ANY OF MY OTHER ART LMFAO

The name for this incredible, very valid ship is Sap Duo. They are called this because tree sap, and also Ravenell as a person is sappy. It’s perfect. They’re perfect. I know.

Also, here’s a link to Prose’s story, if you wanna go read it :3

Reason 4️⃣: He Has Fanart (that Mari made)

Lul. Look at this guy.

Reason 5: The Monkey

Ravenell’s number one nemesis in Keys Are People, Too is a monkey by the name of Jaabu that belongs to Buddy’s character, Lady Spicula. Jaabu hates the duke for no discernible reason and will go to any length to wound the duke’s pride (and sometimes just wound him in general), out of apparent personal enjoyment. She also often seems to embody the audience in their frequent desire to throttle Ravenell, so I’ve been told. (I think it’s loving?)

I illustrated a very good, very effortful depiction of the two’s usual relationship. Please view below. I’m not responding to hate mail for emotional damage over the sheer beauty of this artistic rendition. Please forward it to Jai, they wrote In Sepia after all.

Reason 6: He Is On The UQuiz For Princes (that Mari also made)

A quiz for canon Cinderella Boy Princes… and also one non-canon duke-failure!

Pretty on the nose.

She has also made fanfiction for that man, which is what the illustration is from. I… don’t know if she’s okay.

Reason 7: Flavenell

That’s it that’s the section. @lilliferwashere this one’s for u

Reason 8: He Has Good (?) Reviews

⭐️⭐️⭐️ "3/5 man. Good at fighting, probably, but bad with women most of the time. Very troubled man, so I can't give him too low of a score. That feels too mean. Monkeys are really drawn to him for some reason though and that just seems like a health hazard. To him, mostly" - @leejeann (author of So Shaped By the Chances, Viva La Short King, Notable Anti-Fluddy-er)

⭐️⭐️⭐️"Arrived soggy. Extra star for freeing the slaves — oh wait no that’s Lincoln. Well a four score or better is outta reach for Dukey. Mediocre at best." - @theautumndream (author of A Glitch Apart, Wanted For Several Photoshop Crimes, Lowkey Likenapple)

⭐️⭐️⭐️ "3/5 stars: I broke my leg and he started crying. He was so focused on how much it hurt him emotionally I forgot I was hurt and carried him back to the castle" - @mysteriousmonty (Also Finny (Allegedly), Bookbinding Enthusiast, Art Challenge Perpetuator

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ "5/5 stars: I love him dearly. He's an absolute mess. I hope to get him a job where his actions affect absolutely nothing and no one where he also feels fulfilled." - @jaistashu (author of [Redacted for emotional damage] and some other ones, Certified To Know Your Stuff Better Than You Do, An Honest-to-God Baja Blast To Be Around)

⭐️⭐️⭐️ "In my opinion, he’s just A Guy™. His personality is very wet feeling, but it’s not bad. He tries his best, but he’s also a little… dumb, sometimes. He’s not the most intelligent, as in he has little common sense, but he is trying his best, which I appreciate. Peris Ravenell is a fantastically written character, and I appreciate him and his endless trying his best. He was quick to change his wording to include woman. I very much appreciate that. His upbringing wasn’t the greatest, and I understand that. He’s trying to navigate life without a proper parental relationship. He’s thrown into the world of royalty and dukedom very quickly, and he’s trying his best to navigate it. He’s a mess, albeit a wet mess, but he’s trying, and I appreciate that. Minus two stars for being an uncle’s boy." - @spookieee28 (author of Bed Bath and Hbeyond, Four Theorist, Donut)*

⭐️ "Overscoring him will only make you disappointed. You need to know that his appeal is not in how great he is. He's just a guy in the wrong genre. He's not a hero, he's just a mess. If someone got isekai'd into a murder mystery they had no brains or courage to solve. He just wants to be at the end of the book. He wants everything to be lovely without any effort. And he deserves it. He was born to be everyone's favorite useless uncle. The butt of family jokes but he loves the affection. Like watering the ugliest plant you've ever seen. 1 of 5 Stars. Would you recommend him? Yes." - @xiaomao-ai-wo (author of Unallied Queens, Sticky Note Enthusiast, Either Stalter Or Waldrorf We Aren't Sure)**

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ "Duke Peris “Dukey” Ravenell review:

Duke score: 2/5

He kinda sucks at it. Mostly stands around waiting for Galeus to tell him what to do I think?

Guy score: 5/5

Put this man in a JAR so that I may study him. Simultaneously a carefree goofball and the soppiest, saddest man to have ever existed. Just trying to have a nice time due to being born in Nice Time Land but The Horrors won’t let him. A little misogynistic with it but he pays for his crimes with monkey torture.

Overall score: 4/5" - @proseburia (author of Love Between the Christmas Trees, Lab Rat in Training, Sap Duo Shipper)

⭐️ “Peris Ravenell is as suspicious as a [REDACTED] and just as [REDACTED]. Overly clingy and also overly needy of compliments and acknowledgement. A follower, not a leader. No ability to read a room. At all. Whatsoever. Makes little attempt to think for himself and no attempt to [REDACTED]. Leaves that for [REDACTED] and then wonders why [REDACTED]. Likes [REDACTED], has a temper at times, has a weird thing about [REDACTED]. Enjoys [REDACTED] just to [REDACTED] (they'd already [REDACTED]). Extremely loathed by middle aged etiquette teachers and monkeys. Little man who wants to be a big man when he grows up. 1 star out of 5.” - Shadows_Mirror (author of like half the CB fanfiction on AO3, Registered Dukey Hater, Was Not Told She Could Not Include Spoilers)

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ “I want to put this sopping wet beanie baby of a man under a microscope and study him. I hate him and I love him and I hate that I can’t decide which one it is. 5/5” - @lilliferwashere (author of Sunshine and Saccharin, Fluddy’s True Love, Pigeon Handmaid)

*"Canonically married to Deacon" she says. Uh huh.

**It should be noted that both Mari's name and profile picture on Discord are about Duke Ravenell.

In Conclusion

plsplsplsplsplsplsplssss

XOXO, Inco

[nintendont2502]

finished season one of tma last night ! just gonna dump my thoughts here before i start season two (so i can come back and see how wrong i was lmao)

jon's va is a PHENOMENAL actor, holy shit. like dont get me wrong theyre all amazing, but oh my GOD

speaking of, while im sure the out of universe reasoning for jon putting his entire archivussy into the statements is just bc it makes them more interesting to listen to, i still personally choose to believe that the institute purely hired him for his voice acting skills

theres something.... interesting with jons role that i cant stop thinking about. jane prentiss only referring to him as "archivist". the transcripts (or at least, the ones im using) only referring to him as "archivist". his first impulse being to grab the tape recorder during jane's attack and record the entire thing. the title of archivist is kinda beginning to feel more like... a mask i guess? something that takes over and kinda overshadows your old identity. youre not jon, youre not gertrude - youre just "archivist"

(also something about martin being forced to move into the archives (almost becoming part of the archives) and sasha literally having her identity subsumed and stolen by. whatever the fuck not!sasha is. both of those occurrences only happening because they were acting on behalf of the institute. kinda noticing a trend of identities being lost or stolen or changed because of (and maybe by) the institute, but that could just be a "i connected two dots" "you didnt connect shit" moment yk)

i fully believe the role of archivist is cursed. like one hundred percent. theres something up with that shit and theres no way in hell theyre being paid enough to make up for it

tbf theres no way in hell anyone heres being paid enough to make up for the bullshit they go through. id say they should quit but,,, i dont think they can

except maybe martin. please martin. go live a normal life and write your poetry and stop needing to corkscrew worms out of yourself

"i refuse to become another goddamn mystery" :((

i dont trust the institute. at all. i think at best theyre just a shitty workplace willing to turn a blind eye to some things for the good of their research, and at worst theyre actively hiding something or lying about what they are. theres just been. so many small details that rub me the wrong way yk - the archive team not being allowed to research cases that involve the lukas family in case they pull funding, sasha mentioning research students testing artefacts, the way MAG 37/Burnt Offering starts with jason begging the institute to save his son before acknowledging that theyll never do anything (makes me wonder how many statements they read and dismiss. how many statements they never read. how many people have died because of them?) - and i mean fuck just the general regard for employee health and safety seems to be non existent. also. yk. someone in the building probably murdering gertrude. thats a big thing

worms and rot and decay in the walls and a dead body in the basement. i dont trust them at all

this is definitely just me picking up what the episode was clearly laying out but holy shit gertrudes death feels *wrong*. all this build up, all the signs pointing towards it being something supernatural (the archive being filled with veins (?) in The Dreamers, the ritual site filled with photos of her in Burnt Offering, jane directly threatening the archivist in her statement (which wouldve been gertrude at the time if im not mistaken)) and then its just?? a gun?? and no one finds her body for a year???

that being said the mental image of jane and her merry band of worms sneaking into the archive just to shoot gertrude with a Regular Ass Gun is fucking hilarious

the only episode that really got to me was A Sturdy Lock, and i think that was just bc i got unlucky enough to listen to it on the one night i was home alone. woke up at 4 am, stared at my doorknob for a few minutes and forced myself to go back to sleep

favourite statement is probably a tie between The Dreamers (i love how perfectly it captured the distorted, off, slightly... disturbing vibes i get in my dreams, and as someone who was really vivid really weird dreams - it hit close to home) and Hive (bc holy SHIT jons acting in this was insane. jesus christ. the writing was incredible too holy fuck)

favourite *episode* is Infestation, just bc im a sucker for hearing Jon out of character (for lack of a better term - its fuckin *weird* hearing him emote. i love it) and i love getting more of the other archive staff (especially martin. martin my beloved martin my light more martin forever please and thank you). also jon admitting that he does believe most of the statements and hes fucking terrified of them hits like a truck when youve been making "jon doesnt believe something - take a shot" jokes for the last 38 episodes like i was

jons such a bitch /aff i love him. pathetic wet cat of a man

i fully expect him to try and kill someone next season. potentially himself. hopefully not martin

leitner and your fuck ass books when I Fucking Get You

where is sasha. where is my girl. give her back.

mahtiin :(((

[mawofthemagnetar]

Also available below the cut, for those who prefer to read it on Tumblr.

Keralis lined up the crossbow, closing one eye to narrow his aim. 

Joe, his back to a tree, folded his arms and tried not to move too much. The apple on his head was already wobbling crazily, and if it fell off again Keralis would win this round by default. 

“Hold still,” Keralis said, sticking his tongue out as he lined up the shot. From the slit in his back, a few tendrils the width of a finger slithered out, snapping at the air to help him focus.

He pulled the trigger-

The arrow smashed into the tree a good two inches above the apple, and Joe took the apple off his head as Keralis loaded a fresh arrow. 

“You missed.” Joe said helpfully. 

“I know I missed!” Keralis muttered, “This crossbow is all wrong.” 

There was a pause, as he reloaded and Joe put the apple back on his head. 

And Joe hummed. 

“Y’know,” He said, “Last night, I was talking to Cleo.” 

“Sweetface,” Keralis grunted, as he lined up his shot again, “That is completely redundant. Last night I had some food and went to bed. We know.” 

“Yeah, I know, I know,” Joe sighed, “But I was…I guess I was just thinking, right?” 

Keralis nodded, the crossbow bobbing up and down. 

“And? What were we sinking about, hmmm?” 

Joe hummed. 

“You ever heard that poem? The measure of a man?” 

“...No.” Keralis said, “Enlighten me?” 

And he fired. 

The arrow did not hit the apple. Instead, it smashed right into the middle of Joe’s forehead, and Joe winced and rolled his eyes up to look at it, sighing mightily. 

“You missed.” 

“I get three shots!” Keralis protested. 

“Keralis, I’m on half a heart. I thought we said no enchanted crossbows.” 

“It’s not! It- oh, maybe it is. Who enchanted this?” Keralis scowled, “I didn’t want an enchanted crossbow! I’m sorry, Joe.” 

He stomped over to the nearby chest, dropping it in, and pulling out a fresh one. He examined it and, after an approving nod from Joe, he strolled back to the firing line and loaded another arrow. 

“Anyway. You were saying? The measure of a man?” Keralis asked, as the arrow clicked into place. 

“Yeah, the measure of a man. It’s a poem I read a long time ago. Don’t know who it’s by. It’s sort of…you know, how do we measure what a good man is? And, like, obviously that’s incredibly reductive, because not everyone’s a ‘man’, but-” 

Keralis lowered the crossbow. 

“But?”

“But let’s say ‘man’ in the, like, the poetic sense. Right?”

Keralis shrugged.

“Joe, neither of us is “a man” in any sense.” He said, “I’m not even human, you’re…you… So are you sure we have a say in this?” 

Joe shrugged. 

“It’s worth the discussion. And besides, if we redefine ‘man’ to be a poemy ‘person’, then…whatever. Anyway, take your shot. I want to have my turn.” Joe gestured, and Keralis shrugged. 

He lined up again, and fired. 

This arrow hit Joe in the neck, and he burst into code, instantly respawning in the bed beside the tree. 

<Joehillssays was slain by Keralis1 with William Tell 2> 

“You were saying?” Keralis said, handing Joe the crossbow and walking over to the tree, picking up the apple and putting it on his head. 

“I was saying, right. So we’ll go with “man” in the poetic sense, to refer to a person. Right? So, in the poem, you can’t measure a man by his treasure or his creed. You measure by what he gives and how he helps those in need. But…I feel it’s missing something.” 

Joe loaded the crossbow with an arrow, and approached the firing line. 

Keralis snorted. 

“So what? You sink we find a way to measure a man? They invented that, Joe. A metre stick and a scale.” 

Joe snorted. 

“Yeah, yeah, you’re very clever.”

“Spank you, sweetface!” 

“And not even slightly smug.” 

Keralis giggled, and Joe rolled his eyes fondly.

“Anyway. I more meant, you know. Character?” 

Joe lined up his shot, and fired. 

Keralis grunted as the arrow struck him in the stomach, and foul ichor started to leak from the wound. He sighed, everting a thin black tendril from his slit, and wrapped it around the arrow, ripping it out with a gush of more foul…stuff. The tendril snapped the arrow in half, and tossed it away with an errant flick. The wound continued to bleed, and Keralis frowned. 

“You missed. Five hearts.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Anyway. Thoughts?” 

Keralis hummed as Joe loaded another arrow.

“I sink a man is a man by what he does,” Keralis hummed, “A man is a man because he says he will do a thing, and then he goes and does it.” 

“But that can’t be it, either,” Joe said, as the arrow clicked into place, “Because, like. A guy can say, ‘oh I’m gonna go run a world eater over the spawn village’ and go do it, and then, well, then he’s a terrible person.” 

Keralis nodded. 

“So maybe not deeds? But with that example, how can it not be deeds? Doesn’t a man doing a bad thing tell you a lot about him, too?” 

Joe fired, and this arrow struck Keralis in the shoulder, prompting another gush of black ichor and a hiss of pain. 

“One heart. And you missed.” Keralis muttered, the apple wobbling crazily on his head. 

“Sorry.” Joe said, as Keralis again pulled the arrow out and snapped it. 

“Don’t apologize. It’s the game.” Keralis shrugged. 

Joe shrugged, and loaded another arrow, letting it click into place. 

“So we can, to a point, measure a man by his deeds.” Joe said, “Because… like, you can also force people to do bad things. So to a point. But thoughts lead to words lead to deeds. Right? But that’s not everything. We’re missing part of it.” 

“Sure?” Keralis shrugged, as Joe lined up another shot. 

“I dunno. Thoughts?”

“Well. Thoughts, I suppose?” Keralis offered, still leaking toxic black goo on the ground from his wounds, “If a man says he will do a thing and does another. If he goes and tells lies, then he’s not a good man. So we can judge him by his truths too?” 

“Yeah, but…hang on. Hold that thought.” 

Joe fired again, and this arrow hit Keralis square in the eye, prompting a hiss of pain and an instant respawn. 

<Keralis1 was slain by Joehillssays with William Tell 2> 

The apple fell straight down, bouncing off the grass and rolling away, and Joe sighed. 

Keralis walked over to him, making grabby hands, and Joe handed the crossbow over and picked up the apple, putting it on his head. 

“We can’t measure a man on his thoughts,” Joe said, “‘Cause, like, I don’t know about you, but I get CRAZY intrusive thoughts, all the damn time-” 

Keralis stopped loading his crossbow and nodded frantically.

“Yeah! Yeah yeah yeah. Like, if you measured me on the thoughts that pop into my head, I’d be such a bad person. I want to eat people’s faces sometimes! But I never do. Even if they look tasty, I never would. Because…that’s…evil?” Keralis said, loading the arrow with a click.

“Yeah, or like, you’re on top of a high build with Doc and the voice in your head just blurts out “push him off” and you’re like, hey, where did that come from?” Joe said, as Keralis lined his shot up.

“So not thoughts,” Keralis said, aiming carefully, “And deeds, maybe. But… I dunno, Joe. I was always a bad philosopher.” 

“Yeah, well, we all are, in the end.” Joe said, as Keralis fired. 

The arrow slammed into Joe’s heart, and he grunted, taking seven hearts of damage in an instant. Keralis winced. 

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Joe grunted, as a gush of red blood poured out of the wound, “I agreed to this.” 

Keralis frowned, and lowered the crossbow. Behind the tree, he could see other Hermit’s builds, and more importantly, Jevin scurrying around doing…something. He was being chased by Cub, so clearly it was important.

Keralis’ frown deepened, and he gestured between himself and Joe.

“You agreed. I agreed. But I don’t think anyone else agreed. Do you wanna-?” 

“Put up a wall? Yeah, I was just thinking that,” Joe said, chugging a health potion and then rummaging in his inventory for a few stacks of blocks. 

A few minutes of fussing later (In which Joe attempted to build a plain cobblestone wall, Keralis had an apoplectic fit, and redecorated it into a clean white modern wall with delicate minimalist wall-lamps and soft banners) they had a barrier put up behind the tree, and Joe took his place against it. 

He put the apple back on his head, and folded his arms.

“See, now, THAT,” Joe said, “You agreed, and I agreed, and we’re doing this. But, like, Jevin didn’t. So-” 

“Can’t have Jevin get hit. He’s not playing William Tell,” Keralis agreed, loading another arrow. 

“So what does that mean, for our measure of a man?” Joe hummed, as Keralis lined up another shot. 

“It means…we care? I guess?” Keralis said, lining up some more, “I am not good at this, Joe.”

“Well, I guess. But like…Hmm.” 

Keralis fired, and the arrow slammed into Joe’s shoulder, prompting a hiss of pain. 

“Eight hearts left,” Joe gasped, and Keralis nodded. 

“Sorry.” 

“It’s okay.” 

Joe hummed, as Keralis loaded up the crossbow with another click. 

“I sink,” Keralis said, “that the measure of a man is how he treats others.” 

Joe nodded, and the apple wobbled crazily.

“See, now we’re on to something. You can only measure a man by the actions you can see. The world in someone’s head is, y’know, completely invisible to you. But like…” 

“But what a man does, is what he thinks for himself,” Keralis said, “So when I think, “I should eat a face”, but then I DON’T, it’s because I know I never will and I shouldn’t.” 

“Exactly. And you do that, because…” 

“Because I care,” Keralis said, “I do it because I don’t wanna hurt people. Besides, uh…” 

Joe burst out laughing, hard enough to knock the crossbow bolt loose. A splash of blood hit the ground along with it, and he giggled a bit more.. 

“Keralis, once again, we both agreed to this. Besides, this minigame needed testing.” 

“So do the philosophy debates come free with the game?” Keralis asked, and Joe laughed again. 

“William Tell’s Philosophy Class. Yeah, I think it does.” Joe snickered, and Keralis lined up again. 

Keralis closed his eye and stuck his tongue out, lining up his shot on the apple with care.

“So I think, to sum up,” Joe said, “You look to deeds to inform knowledge of thoughts. And you look to see how a man treats every person he meets, to see what lurks in the depths of his heart. And that, I guess, is how you take the measure of a man?” 

Keralis fired. 

The arrow flew, perfectly straight, and smashed clean into the apple. It split in half, each piece hitting the grass on either side of Joe, and the arrow embedded itself an inch deep into the tree. 

“Bullseye!” Keralis cheered.

[kebdomide]

I'm leaving the TCC.

Hi, I’m Kebdomide, or Keb as many people refer to me as. I’m terrible with these kinds of things, they’re uncomfortable, they’re weird, but I can’t keep doing this.

Over the past few months, maybe around October, I’ve been very active in the TCC or True Crime Community, and looking back, I should’ve stopped and left when I could. My mental health has been getting way worse, to the point I didn’t even know it was happening. I wouldn’t shower for weeks on end to the point my mom had to step in and get me out of whatever funk I was in. I started doing depraved things like drawing porn, not just of killers and whatnot, but my original characters, which is not something my fifteen year old self should be doing whatsoever. I’ve also been having way more suicidal thoughts, I picture myself doing it in vivid detail and it scares me. I fear I’ve completely ruined my digital footprint and potential opportunities because of this, and I know this will come back to bite me in the ass for years to come.

To be clear, I am leaving the TCC for good, I will be deleting a lot of my stuff like my tumblr and whatnot. I don’t hate you guys, and I don’t mind if you guys still follow me on other platforms, but I will not be engaging with this kind of stuff anymore. It only ruins my mental health.

I also want to admit, that I’ve been very, very cruel, I make rape jokes all of the time, the N word slips into my vocabulary a lot, and I feel being in a community like this heightens it. This is nothing but my fault, I should know better than to make these jokes and say those kinds of words. I will work to stop myself from saying and doing these things and put a stop to it all together, I want to take accountability for my wrongdoing and fix them indefinitely.

I do not expect forgiveness nor do I want it, I don’t need the pity, I need to better myself.

I do not care what is done with my art, I am not archiving them,

(cant figure out my password to delete the blog so it'll remain up, but im logging out and dont see myself logging back in.)

[aretheyqueer]

List of Canonically Trans/gnc Characters

My own list in this post is anime, manga, games mostly but in the spreadsheet you can add anything.

Following my tierlist of them, I realized I should make a public list so theyre not just kept in my head, since I spent quite a while finding these characters. If you want to watch/play anything with trans or gnc characters, you can use this list.

They range from good rep to bad, characters viewed as "traps" or not taken seriously to ones that the whole fandom understands is trans. I've added trigger warnings to the characters and fandoms I know can be triggering. I've also put certain names in bold to show that they're a main character, but i've only watched a few on this list so some are missing.

I would add trigger warnings for "bury your gays" and similar tropes, but I want to avoid spoilers. Maybe you can look it up first if you're worried. I've tried to exclude characters that are referred to as hermaphrodites.

The "crossdressers" section obviously includes some spoilers.

Enjoy :D

Transfem

Alice Arisuin from Chivalry of a Failed Knight (Prefers feminine name and terms but doesn't care too much).

Arachne from Angel Sanctuary

Arashi Narukami from Ensemble Stars

Astolfo from the Fate/Grand series

Leonardo Da Vinci from the Fate/Grand series (unsure)

Cassandra Igarashi from The Wicked + The Divine

Dahlia Carpenter from Carole & Tuesday

Victoria October from Batman

Elendira the Crimsonnail from Trigun Stampede

Giselle Gewelle from Bleach (The fandom is very transphobic)

Grell from Black Butler (Unnecessarily debated)

Hana from Tokyo Godfathers

Okasan from Tokyo Godfathers (Could be a drag queen)

Hibari Oozora from Stop!! Hibari-kun!

Isabella Yamamoto from Paradise Kiss

Kanamori from Heaven's Design Team

Kano Ienaga from Golden Kamuy

Kaoru Anesagi from IDOLiSH7

Kaoru Hanase from Tamako Market (Speculated to be a trans woman)

Kenji Hikiishi from My Hero Academia

Kikinojo from One Piece

Mariandale/Marian from Ixion Saga DT

Mizuki Akiyama from Project Sekai (Heavily implied)

Momoko from Shangri-La

Kikyou Motoki from Itazura Na Kiss

Nao from Skip and Loafer

Nathan Seymour from Tiger & Bunny

Perfuma from She-Ra and the Princesses of power

Petrichor from Saga

Ruka Urushibara from Steins;Gate (Transphobic fandom)

Saber from the Fate/Grand series

Stephanie from Majutsushi Orphen

Ushiyama from All Worlds Alliance

Hiroyuki Yoshida from Wandering Son

Shuuichi Nitori from Wandering Son

Yuujirou Shiratori from The Highschool Life of a Fudanshi

Transmasc

Hachiro from Gintama

Kite from Japan Sinks: 2020

Kusuo Saiki from The Disastrous Life of Saiki K. (Turned himself into a boy when he was in the womb, otherwise never mentioned)

Ryo Watari from Boys Run the Riot

Shou Fujita from Stars Align (Very minor character)

Tooru Mutsuki from Tokyo Ghoul:re

Yamato from One Piece

Yawara Chatora from My Hero Academia

Yoshino Takatsuki from Wandering Son

Nonbinary

Anne Faulkner from Paradox Live

Asra from The Arcana

Alucard from Hellsing Ultimate (genderfluid)

Chaos from Hades

Berg Katze from Gatchaman Crowds (androgynous)

O. D. from Gatchaman Crowds

Daishikyou from Gintama

Chevalier D'Eon from Fate/Grand series

Enkidu/Lancer from Fate/Grand series (Inherently no gender/sex)

Double Trouble from She-Ra and the Princesses of power

Envy from Fullmetal Alchemist (can transform into any gender)

Francois from Dr. Stone

Halara Nightmare from Master Detective Archives: Rain Code

Hange from Attack on titan (Fandom mostly refers to them as female)

Ivankov Emporio from One Piece (i'm not sure what they identify as)

Juniper from Xenoblade Chronicles

Kaoruko Someya from Okane ga Nai (Okama)

Kimera from Kimera (nb or transfem)

Kyuubei Yagyuu (Born female, raised male so has an unconventional relationship with gender)

Vanitas of the Blue Moon from The Case Study of Vanitas

Milo Belladonna from Monster Prom

Mogumo from Love Me For Who I Am

Najimi Osana from Komi can't communicate (Unknown gender)

Nakuru Akizuki from Cardcaptor Sakura (Sexless, identifies as female)

Nico from Tokyo Ghoul (Okama)

Opera from Marimashita! Iruma-kun

Orochimaru from Naruto

Ryuuji Ayukawa from Blue Period (Unsure, can be gnc/transfem/nonbinary)

Satan from Devilman

Shion Zaiden from RWBY

Someone (yes thats their name) from Shimanami Tasogare

Xanthe Zhou from Prime Earth

Yuuta Asuka from Stars Align

Intersex

Asuka Ran from Devilman Lady

Luca Esposito from Asra Lost in Space (identifies as male)

Desmond from Carole & Tuesday (Became intersex due to universe stuff but is at peace with this)

Megumi Yoshikawa from Princess Princess (Raised male before she found out she was genetically female, decides to live as a girl)

Richard III from Requiem of the Rose King (Struggles with his intersexuality, feels his body and him are unloveable)

Yoite from Nabari no Ou (Lives as male but they're unsure of their gender)

Crossdressers

Aki from Magical Shopping Arcade Abenobashi

Azumi Agonoske from Gintama

Buzam A. Calessa from Vandread

Ferris from Re:Zero (I've heard that the novel version is transfem)

Haruhi Fujioka from Ouran high school host club (Nonbinary coded)

Ranka/Ryouji Fujioka from Ouran high school host club (Drag queen)

Hatsuka Suzushiro from Call of the Night

Hazumu Osaragi from Kashimashi: Girl Meets Girl

Kurako from Kuragehime

Naoto Shirogane from Persona 4 (The reveal can be triggering)

Chihiro Fujisaki from Danganronpa (The reveal can be very triggering - I recommend looking it up first if you're worried.)

Nuriko from Fushigi Yuugi (Unsure)

Rui Ninomiya from Gatchaman (May be transfem)

Cis characters that are gnc

Haruka Tenou from Sailor Moon

Kaoru Orihara from Oniisama e... (not sure what gender)

Kashima Yuu from Monthly Girl's Nozaki-kun

Complicated

Angela from Black Butler (Changes form)

Berg Katse from Gatchaman (Changes form)

Fushi from To Your Eternity (Can change into female but presents masc)

Ginshu from Amatsuki (Raised male, turned genderless, dressed feminine. Idk their gender identity)

Inazuma from One Piece (Can present as both male and female, okama)

Izana Shinatose from Knights of Sidonia (Genderless to female due to universe rules)

Kou Seiya from Sailor Moon: Sailor Stars (Has a male and female form, I think)

Mahiro Oyama from Onimai: I'm Now Your Sister! (Was turned into a girl against his will)

Mermaid Sisters from Carole & Tuesday (I don't know, man...)

Natsuru Senou from Kämpfer (Transformed into a woman)

Shi Qingxuan from Heaven Officials Blessing (Can transform)

Ranma Saotome from Ranma (Changes between them)

Hinata Tachibana from Life with an Ordinary Guy who Reincarnated into a Total Fantasy Knockout (Gets transformed into a girl, goes on a quest to get their original body back)

--------

If you see anyone missing, feel free to let me know if I should add them. Input on who is a main character, triggering themes and offensive characters can be commented or sent to me.

[wangxianficfinder]

Fic Finder

Oct 1st

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1. Hi!!! I’ve been looking for an older fic lately and can’t seem to find it. It’s an explicit modern AU friends with benefits fic where lan zhan realizes he’s in love with wei ying and breaks up with him as a result and then pining ensues. The only specific thing I remember is that the very first scene is of lan zhan realizing he’s in love with wei ying while they are having sex. Thank you for all of your awesome work on this blog!!

FOUND? Honesty is the Best Policy (Except if You’re an Asshole)by piecrust (E, 22k, WangXian, Porn with Feelings, College/University)

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2. Hi! Looking for this fic where WWX's lips got sealed/sewn shut by the cultivation community and imprisoned in Lotus Pier. I *think* JL lets him go or he has to work with LWJ and JWY on a case? TYSM!

FOUND? ❤️ whipstitch by curiositykilled (M, 131k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Dysfunctional Family, Torture, WWX Lives, but basically no one else, Case Fic, Cultivation Sect Politics, Past Abuse, WWX Whump, YLLZ WWX, JL Needs a Hug, JL Tries, Yunmeng Bro Reconciliation, Past Character Death, Body Horror, Non-Consensual Body Modification, POV Alternating, Flashbacks, Eventual Happy Ending, Heavy Angst, Suicide Attempt, PTSD, Depression, Not A Fix-It, Mouth Sewn Shut)

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3. Looking for a fic. Set in cloud recesses era, lan wangji is female and I think Wei wuxian is as well. Lwj is a virgin and wwx sends a paperman up her skirt during class and ends up getting her off. @leahlisabeth

FOUND? Carte Blanche by Rionaa (E, 3k, WangXian, Smut, PWP, Dubious Consent, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Underage Sex, Mutual Masturbation, Macro/Micro, Gender Changes, Cisswap, Female WangXian, also female JC, it's a total gender swap, all the boys are now girls because i say so, Virginity, First Time)

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4. hello again! this is for fic finder. i have an image in my head of wwx going to lotus pier with lwj’s family, i think? he was given a silver and onyx guan by lwj (i think it belonged to his father) and madam yu caught him wearing it and she ripped it out of his hair, saying “so you fancy yourself a young master now?” and later i think lan qiren puts it back in his hair when wwx is with lwj and his family. i think he’s betrothed to lwj here but i’m not sure. @ieatkitcat

FOUND! The Wild Geese’s Tomb by The Feels Whale (miscellea) (T, 66k, WangXian, Time Travel AU, fixit, Temporary Character Death, all women live no women die, LWJ’s canonically intense feelings about everything all the time, WWX’s clinical depression gets treated and blamed on resentful energy, navigating gay marriage in ancient china by utiliizing class snobbery for your own ends, if you’re not sure whose fault anything going on in here is then blaming NHS is probably a good bet, WWX plays ‘summon LWJ’ it’s super effective!, the ‘unexploded cow’ approach to dealing with your enemies)

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5. Please help me find this fic. Lan zhan and nie huaisang travel to past during burial mounds and weight yong create a track hundred holes curse back to who cursed them. And wei ying create yillng guide too. And lan zhan make a new identity. It is archived I think. @wangxian02

For 5, I can't find the fic, but it sounds like one where LZ and NHS became friends, and NHS sent gay porn to LZ (in crates?). The chapter where the tracking of the 100 holes curse was done was one of the last published, and JZx ended up forcefully stripping SS, causing much hilarity in the onlookers. LZ commissionned the tracker from WY in a secret identity.

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6. Hello there! I'm looking for this particular fic where wangxian and juniors are out on a nighthunt and they somehow end up needing to view each other's memories? I can't remember much else except that the memories are kind of random and there's a lot of feelings!

FOUND? unhappy stories with happy endings by Last_for_Hell (M, 30k, WangXian, Memories, Memory Fic, Kinda, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, sexual content maybe, References to Torture, PTSD, Characters Watching Their Series, kinda, but not entirely, very light consensual non-consent)

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7. Two things for fic finder! 🐇🖤💙

A) a threadfic on the ex-bird app where JL was poking around in Koi Tower and ended up finding WWX in a room where the only(?) access point was a grate in the ceiling. It maybe took a while but eventually they got JC involved.

B) modern AU where LXC misunderstands WWX and drives him to cancel his plans to spend Xmas(? or some holiday anyway) with LWJ. WWX gives LWJ a star lantern as a gift, which makes the Lan bros reassess the situation and LXC (rightly) feels like an ass and promptly pivots to "I have a second didi now". @linderel

7A)

FOUND! Thread fic by greenteafiend1

7B)

FOUND!🔒 in any universe, you by sundiscus (M, 12k, WangXian, multiple AUs, summary and tags specified in each chapter!) It's the first of four shorts in one collection.

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8. For the next fic finder, can you help me find this fic where, after siege, wwx is apprehended and sent to the nie sect. His lips are sewn shut with a version of the lan silencing spell. Golden core reveal bc he couldn't eat and had no core to practice inedia. @akweenbitch

FOUND? ❤️ whipstitch by curiositykilled (M, 131k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Dysfunctional Family, Torture, WWX Lives, but basically no one else, Case Fic, Cultivation Sect Politics, Past Abuse, WWX Whump, YLLZ WWX, JL Needs a Hug, JL Tries, Yunmeng Bro Reconciliation, Past Character Death, Body Horror, Non-Consensual Body Modification, POV Alternating, Flashbacks,   Eventual Happy Ending, Heavy Angst, Suicide Attempt, PTSD, Depression, Not A Fix-It, Mouth Sewn Shut) the Golden Core reveal happens in chapter 8

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9. Hello! I created an account on Tumblr just to ask this. I need help finding a fic. It's canon divergence, post bloodbath of Nightless City. I don't remember well the beginning but Lan Wangji rescues Wei Wuxian and they escape, at some point they find a cottage in the forest(?) and it's near a village. Wei Wuxian stays in the cottage and Lan Wangji goes out to work with the villagers and get food. There's even a scene when he brings rabbit meat for Wei Wuxian but he didn't hunt it, the villagers gave it to him. There's another scene when LWJ hadn't returned home and it was getting late, WWX decides to go out and search for him, it was raining, they meet in the middle and kiss, they end up making love in their cottage. I remember that towards the end LXC found them and WWX goes to Cloud Recesses with LWJ. Please, I'm kind of desperate because I really loved the fic but I can't find it anymore. I appreciate your help.

FOUND? Hyperprosexia by malkinmalkout (E, 192k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Sentinels & Guides, Sentinel WWX, Guide LWJ, Empath LWJ, Slow Burn, Rivals to Lovers, Fluff and Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, WWX POV, LWJ POV, Tags Contain Spoilers, Telepathy, Marriage, outsider pov, they have a kid, Telepathic Sex, Rough Sex, public exhibition, breath play, Rimming)

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10. Hi! Thank you all for your hard work 💕 for the next ficfinder I am looking for a wangxian Fic, I believe modern au, wwx gets shot near the end, and I think the setting is like a tower in the forest maybe? Has a happy ending. Sorry this is so vague. @vi-sky

FOUND? ❤️ start getting real by azurewaxwing (T, 21k, wangxian, Modern with Magic, Reality TV, POV Outsider, Golden Core Reveal, (sort of), Appropriate Use of Gūsū Lán Silencing Spell, Getting Together) Did a deep dive into my read history because I had a vague recollection, came up with a possible match for #10. Checks off the boxes for "modern" and "tower in a forest" but can't remember if WWX got shot at any point.

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11. Hi, for Fic Finders but also for I'm in the mood for. I'm looking for a story where Yu Ziyuan died early in the story, her maids end up working in the laundry for the sect 'cause is the only way they can remain so they can watch over Yanli and Jiang Cheng. Wei Ying is there but he's not a disciple. @monicaop21 ~snipped to an ITMF ~Mod L

FOUND! see all the colors in disguise by Stratisphyre (G, 3k, Canon Divergence, Pre-Relationship, genius WWX)

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12. helloo! i remember a fic about how wwx lied to his friends about having a crush on lwj just to get them off his back, and then lwj overheard. lwj then proceeds to try woo wwx (?) i think by saying hi to him more and making him food i believe, and wwx is questioning why lwj is acting so weird + starts to actually develop a crush on him for reals. thankyou @f1sh1ng4gl0ry

FOUND? it’s just (aah) a little crush (crush!) by sweetlolixo (T, 9k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Romance, Fluff, Pining LWJ, Humor, Courting Rituals, Teen Wangxian)

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13. Hello there is a fic and I remember that it was wwx and lwj as secret agents and there was a short scene where wwx faked his death (it wasn't a major part of the plot) and lwj was crying and wwx is never allowed to fake his death for a mission again

FOUND? 🧡 some life yet unspent by Fahye (E, 28k, WangXian, Background XiYao, Spy AU, Modern AU, 007 LWJ, Q WWX, Fluff and angst, Mutual pining, Injuries, Canon typical violence)

FOUND? where angels fear to tread by besanii (T, 3k, WangXian, James Bond Fusion, Spies & Secret Agents, Reconciliation, Presumed Dead, Quartermaster LWJ, Double-Oh WWX)

FOUND? a bite of a vow, a taste of the truth by occultings (microcomets) (E, 29k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Case Fic, It's For a Case, Work partners, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Kissing, Pining While Fake Fucking, Truth Serum, Whump, Injury, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Voyeurism, Monsters, Succubi & Incubi, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, Intercrural Sex, Barebacking, Happy Ending, medically discouraged anal, Brief Subspace, impressive heights of soap opera plot) has a brief flashback to wwx faking his death on a case. It's a modern with magic AU where they're cultivation partners for work, rather than secret agents, but it might still fit?

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14. Hi. I am looking for a wangxian fanfic on ao3 where lan zhan has a secret room in jingshi. Wei ying finds out that it is filled with various items and lan zhan confesses that throughout the years of wei ying's death he has been buying things which he thought wei ying would like. Lan zhan then thinks that wei ying would be weirded out by it. I guess they confess their love to each other after that (not sure about this part)

It is definitely less than 100k words. Thank you. @obsessingly-distracted

FOUND? rather cruelly used and rather reserved by x_los (M, 13k, wangxian, sugar daddy (slightly), case fic, domestic horror, architectural horror, gift giving, happy ending, getting together, confessions)

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15. Hi, I'm searching for this fic I read a long time ago. In the fic, Wei Wuxian adopted Xue Yang and Lan Yuan. There was one specific scene where Jiang Cheng hurt Lan Yuan and Xue Yang because they bumped into him. Then Wei Wuxian tried to protect them and got hurt instead. Lan Zhan got angry and demand a duel with Jiang Cheng. During the duel, Lan Zhan gave Jiang Cheng a pill and applied some talisman on him to destroy his core. That's all I remember. Thanks in advance! @moo-oos

FOUND? Not This Time by Marinelifeclub (M, 93k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Time Travel, Angst, Dark LWJ, Protective LWJ, YLLZ WWX, Resentful WWX, Established Relationship, POV Alternating, Sunshot Campaign, Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, Minor XuanLi, not for jc fans, eventual 3zun, Kid Fic)

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16. theres this fic where jiang yanli kills jin guangshan after he tries to assault her and madam jin covers it up even tho a lot of people saw her do it, and it results in jin zixuan legitimizing jin guangyao and they get closer! jin guangyao calls jin zixuan "xiongzhang" and its rlly heartwarming. but by the end of it jin guangyao ends up getting stuck in a mine and it takes the combined efforts of lxc, jc, lwj, and wwx for him to get freed. before that, the jiang sibs all take down jin zixun and yeah its a great fic but i forgot the title ;w;

FOUND! Aftermath by KouriArashi (T, 57k, JYL/JZX, wangxian, LXC/JGY, JZX & JGY, JYL & WXX, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Everybody Lives, Romance, Developing Relationship, Family, Sibling Bonding, Light Angst, Politics, Attempted Sexual Assault, some murder on occasion, People talking about their feelings, processing their trauma, The good shit)

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17. hi there! i've been struggling to find a fic that i've read a few times before. i thought i bookmarked it but i simply can't seem to locate it. it was a canon divergence where wen ning gives his golden core to jiang cheng after wen qing finds out wei wuxian is expecting. the wen clan survives in this au, too!

FOUND? 🧡 Don't Wanna Fall by nekojita (M, 111k, WangXian, Mpreg, A/B/O, Fix-it, Lots of pining, Angst with a happy ending, Canon Divergence, Child thief WN)

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18. Hi! Thank you for the work you do, I’ve found some great fics through you 🙂 I’m trying to find a fic some a previous “I’m in the mood for” that I lost when the tab closed by mistake. In it, Jiang Cheng marries off Wei Wuxian to the Lans, Wangxian fuck and Wei Wuxian goes bamf by putting the Elders in their place. That’s as far as I got. Please help 🥹Thank you. @starrie-amethyst

FOUND? Practical Considerations by teawater, the_anthropologist (E, 97k, WangXian, JC & WWX, LXC & WWX, LQR & WWX, Arranged Marriage, Canon Divergence, Found Family, Spouses to Lovers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Politics, Scheming, Lán Elders are assholes, BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ, eventually BAMF LXC, learning to make decisions, Learning Self-worth, Self-Esteem Issues, Sweet Wangxian, Domestic Fluff, Fix-It, JC is a big asshole, he improves somewhat but it’s open-ended, WWX learns to stand up for himself, Quote: Come Back to Gusu With Me, POV wwx, POV LWJ, POV JC, Golden Core Reveal, Teacher wwx, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, Alcohol as a Coping Mechanism, Past Suicidal Thoughts, Post-Sunshot Campaign, WWX Protection Squad, Feelings Realization, WWX protector of the twin jades, Protective LWJ, Protective WWX, Protective LQR, Demonic Cultivator WWX, WWX is Loved, Married WangXian, Genius WWX, Everybody Lives)

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19. Hello! Thank you for all the work you do!! For fic finder, there’s a fic I read earlier this year that I can’t find in my history. It was a case fic, I *think* modern with magic but I wouldn’t stake my life on it, where even though wwx and lwj were estranged, they accidentally end up on the same night hunt (the juniors are there, lwj is supervising them I think). They get trapped in a rundown manor by the resident spirit, who turns out to be a jilted bride, who trapped them bc it turns out that shortly before wwx’s disappearance, he and lwj slept together, and the ghost is projecting onto them, so they get shotgun married to please the ghost

FOUND! Back to Bite One by diamondbruise (E, 21k, wangxian, modern w cultivation, past sex pollen, case fic, forced marriage technically, misunderstandings, happy ending)

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20. Hi! I'm looking for a transmigration fic! It starts with someone being shoved into the body of someone in a western sect, like a weird parody of SVSSS, the main character is on the scholar peak, and moonlights as a healer, but has to cross-dress for it (because healing is feminine there?). He knows the book he's in, and hates it because just like Luo Binghe, the stallion main character has so many red flags, and his little sister is like Ning YingYing, and doomed to be the little sister/first wife trope of the insane main character, and he's doomed to be killed by his older brothers (because toxic masculinity?) so that his little sister has a sad back story and reason for revenge. He takes his little sister and they run away to the East, where they decide which sect to join, and settle on Yunmeng Jiang. Their entrance exam has them fight Wei Wuxian, and Madame Yu crashes the party and fights them all, and accepts them into the sect. Then they have a chapter where they fix up a house for them and the main character freaks out about the sad library there (because humidity) and plans to go on a spree, and the Jiang are not displeased to have a scholar that wants to make their library great. It wasn't finished, I think. @constellationcorrelation

FOUND?🔒 Live (I've only been dreaming) by Araceil (M, 33k, WIP, (Onesided) OMC\OMC, WangXian, WN/OFC, LXC\OMC, Isekai, Transmigratation, Classic Tropes, subverting tropes, Past Child Abuse, PTSD, touch starvation, Touch Aversion, Depression, Anxiety, Unreliable Narrator, Violence, Gore, Undead, world building, Yandere Male Character (Not the SIOMC), Obsessive Behaviour, Canon Typical Misogyny, (that also gets called out), MDZS Canon is Derailed, Madam Yu's A+ Parenting, OMC & OFC Siblings, oblivious OMC, JYL finally gets a little sister, JYL Protection Squad, Chapter Specific Warnings Inside) It's really good, it's a shame it doesn't look like they are continuing it.

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