#and you'd be correct in drawing that connection

[calypsolemon]

A question for the Pen & Ink AU (since I find it so very facsinating)! How do you think Thespius interacts with both Sweater and Ink Click respectively? Is it any different to how he normally is around Click Clack? How does Sweater Click's arrogance and Ink Click's self-isolation affect their dynamic? That kind of thing!

Overall, Thespius does interact with Sweater and Ink Click different than he does Click normally, though initially that isn't due to their split nature, but rather because Thespius understands what he is essentially dealing with is Click Clack in the middle of a mental health crisis. In the same way that you might act differently around a loved one who is having a breakdown or going through a hard time, Thespius is being very patient and cautious as to what he says and does around both Clicks. Especially at first, when they're all just trying to figure out what even happened, and all they can tell is that Click Clack is clearly distressed.

That being said, as the situation stretches on, the differences between the two halves settle in a bit more, it gets a lot harder for Thespius to treat these two parts of Click Clack as just... Click Clack. This is, in part, because most of his interactions are with Sweater Click, whose stubbornness, self-negativity, and complete refusal to listen to reason push the limits of Thespius's patience. Sweater Click embodies a lot of the hard-headed behaviors that hurt Thespius the worst during his over-a-century of pining for the fellow god, and so soon after their confession to each other, its increasingly difficult for Thespius to continue holding back his negative emotions. And keep in mind, those negative emotions are something Click Clack was previously helping hold back with his overzealous editing, preventing any potential conflict from breaking out between them before.

Feelings only get further muddled when he gets the chance to interact with Ink Click too. Ink Click is... difficult for him to wrap his head around, in many ways. He's still Click Clack, but disconnected from much of the personality quirks that make him recognizable as such. Less capable of communicating properly as well, as he can't speak directly, and the narrative he desires to tell is gradually buried by the cacophony of the world's story. Thespius can tell he's gripped by an existential guilt he can't even begin to fathom, and the primary feeling he evokes in Thespius is pity, which is not a great thing to feel about someone you're supposed to love. In many ways, he's a reminder to Thesp that, despite knowing and loving Click Clack for so long, there's still aspects of his partner he has yet to learn about, let alone understand.

All this to say, both halves of Click Clack are a bit of a confusing and upsetting mess for him to be around, and this really puts a strain on their relationship! He tries to act calm and collected around both of them, FOR their sake, but even a god of love can only keep face for so long.

[darkstaria]

Yandere Batfam - Soulmate Soul Animal AU.

Chapter 1:

----

Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5.

Dark pupils watched from the ceiling, their gaze affixed upon you. You sighed, deciding to ignore its presence.

An aggravated chitter interrupted you. Pausing, you watched as a little green bird jumped out of the bat’s shadow. It paced towards you, making a small leap to land on your outstretched finger. You smiled, extending your hand to pet the top of its head. The bird took a moment to consider the moment, head tilting with its beak outstretched as if it intended to bite you. It seemed to decide on sparing your finger, allowing you to give the bird some pets on the head.

However, it was time to resume your work. You turned back to your computer, a dismissal. The bird didn't like that. A quick flash, and the bird tittered about on your keyboard, messing up your setup.

“Robin!” You snap, reaching out as if to push the bird away.

You sighed. You disliked calling the bird Robin. It was the correct species, despite the bird being green, so it made sense to use the name. But.. you hated the connection it created between your soul bonded animals and the vigilantes of the city. Unfortunately, the bird didn't answer to any other name. You've tried.

The other robins were so much more agreeable than this newer one. Well, not that you could even call those three robin anymore. The newer robin was very possessive of the name, and you'd rather not have to search your room for more stray feathers that flew off in their next fight. Your soul animals were such a pain.

The flutter of wings distracts you from your musings. You look up, finding the very bat you had been so cautiously avoiding earlier descend onto your desk. The bat chirped a little, with the robin occasionally replying back with chirps of its own. They were having their own conversation.

You decided you were owed a break already, so you gave up on your dreams of getting work done in lieu of watching the ongoing conversation. It was rare for soul animals to talk. They didn't need to. Due to the nature of a soul bond, soul animals act on the innermost feelings of the soul they represent. The bond connects souls, so soul animals, which are a manifestation of the bond, are already intune with their soulmates.

The only instance in which soul animals did tend to talk, was if the soulmates themselves were talking.

Robin chittured with a snap, the bat in return giving a controlled chirr.

Oooh. You thought to yourself. This sounds like an argument. You wondered what it was about. Maybe Robin pecked one too many victims, or caused a mess again.

Ah. You were thinking of your bonded as just animals again. To be fair, it was fairly easy. The only things you knew of your soulmates were because of how the animals acted. Anything else, and you were in the dark. That's how you wanted to think, anyway.

Maybe while they were distracted… You scoot back a little in your chair, until you figure you’re out of their line of sight. You make for the door, tipping out of your seat as quietly as you can. You're almost out the door when a weight settles itself on your head.

You sigh.

“Robin. Get off me, please.”

Perhaps unsurprisingly, the presence doesn't budge. Obliging, you reach up to your head, feeling the bird’s little feet jump onto your hand. Bringing Robin to eye level, you stare at it, unimpressed.

A nearby bat of wings draws you out of your faceoff. Guess sneaking out on your own was too much to ask for, as always.

“Ughhh.” You whine. Your soulmates were going to push you into complete isolation at this rate.

“Fine. You two already know the drill.”

You point at the Bat. “You can never follow me, I mean it. A bat is way too ominous of a soul animal to be flying around. It's just asking for trouble.”

The Bat remains silent, watching. Always, watching. You really hated it sometimes.

In all honesty, a robin wasn't too great of a soul animal to have with you in Gotham either. But your robins came in odd colours, so people didn't always clock that the bird was actually a robin. Sometimes you said that your soul animal was a greenfinch or a swallow. It tended to work, as long as no one looked twice.

A bat was much harder to hide.

“So..”. You give up, gesturing to your bag. “Just get in already, I'll make the trip quick.” You always had to make any outings short with this particular robin. If you spent too long with someone it got snippy. Very, snippy.

The other three robins tended to be a bit more accommodating. Well, not by much.

Robin glides into your bag, a movement of precision and grace. Not for the first time, you wonder what your bonded was like in person.

Deciding to dismiss the thought, you unlatch your door, heading out.

Just another day, with your soulmates.

~ ~ ~ ~

Your parents told you about your birth. You were born to a bat watching your window. It wasn't such a red flag, at first. The maternity ward was flush with newborn babes, so your parents figured that the bat was bound to another child. It was what they had hoped for, anyway.

Plenty of children weren't born with soulbonds. It wasn't a concern. They could be the elder of a bond. Or, they could have a delayed bond. They weren't concerned.

But… then it followed you home. Your parents settled you down, snug in your crib. When they next came to check up upon you, it was there. Perched upon the crib, watching you. When they next blinked, it was gone.

The very next day, your parents awoke to the Bat watching you again. But this time, a smaller bird was snuggled to your sleeping face. It clung to you all day, refusing to disappear when they appeared like the Bat did. It was… very mouthy.

They had assumed this to be a good development, everyone knew The Night worked alone. They were happy.

They were happy, even when another robin appeared the subsequent day. A scruffy one, snappy. Its feathers were still growing out. Young.

Perhaps they should have expected then, that the dawn the next new day would bring another little bird to your crib. The youngest one, a nestling still developing pin feathers. Despite its age, it held a keen gaze at them.

There weren't any more animals that appeared after that. So they hid any evidence of the Bat, and instead allowed you to grow up freely with your three birds.

The Bat was evidently the oldest in your soulbond. It was protective, almost parental, in its movements. It had a sixth sense for when you were in any danger, always emerging from the shadows with perfect timing. If a bat wasn't such a symbolic image in Gotham, you'd probably be more appreciative of its efforts.

The eldest bird was silly, performing aerial tricks and jumps that always brightened your day. It was keen, focusing on you whenever you felt down. It had the uncanny ability to appear whenever you were under the weather. When you said the word robin, it snapped to attention.

You decided to call it Robin.

The second bird was protective. It wasn't as loud as the eldest, but there was a spark of kindness in its gaze. Originally the bird was a lot rougher, but it started to calm down a few years in. Became stable. It always seemed to find you when you got stuck on homework, or landed on your shoulder whenever you flipped through a book.

The third bird was small. You assumed it was only a year or two older than you, due to how the bird’s feathers grew in. It wasn't as affectionate as the other two. Solitary, it often lingered in the shade. It watched you. It watched your other soul animals too, when they appeared. It seemed a little tired. It took you a bit, but eventually you realised it was lonely. After that, you always had a comforting word.

That is… until the Batman gained a partner. A boy decked out in green and yellow, the same feathers on your eldest bird. The vigilante called itself Robin.

As the duo gained notoriety, you were hidden more and more. There was danger in soulbonds, and nothing was more dangerous than vigilantes.

Robin became Nightwing. Your eldest bird grew in blue feathers. The bird stopped responding to its name. A new boy became Robin. You spotted green and yellow feathers growing in on your second bird. It started answering to Robin.

You knew who your soulmates were. After that, it was no secret. Not to you, not to your parents.

Your parents weren't happy anymore. But you were safe. They could be content with that. They considered reaching out. The evidence was obvious, they knew it, and you knew it. Maybe you could be even safer, if the Batman knew where you were.

And then you watched your Robin die.

The little bird had been stuck to you recently, seeming to be in an argument with the Bat. When in conflict, soul animals gravitated to those they weren't in disparity with, and this was nothing unfamiliar to you.

You had been stroking the little bird, as it rested on your lap. But then it jumped. It started shaking. It started crying. Bleeding.

You panicked. You tried to comfort it, to whisper caring words, to give a reassuring touch. You were young, you didn't know what to do. There was nothing you could do.

When a soulmate dies, the soul animal dies too.

The little Robin died, crying in your lap.

You had never looked at vigilantes the same way again.

There was no point in denial, not after that. Your bat became the Bat, the eldest robin named Wing. A few days later, your youngest soul animal developed new feathers. Green… and red. You didn't have a name for the bird, but you suspected you would soon.

You took a week off school.

~ ~ ~ ~

“Please be quiet, this time.” You muttered down to the green bird resting in your bag. It started at you with a condescending gaze. Ugh. Younger soulmates.

You'd sigh, but you've been doing that far too much lately as is.

Time to get this over with.

You enter the supermarket, one of your very few weekly outings. You start perusing the shelves, picking out what was in your list. As you're walking though, you hear a frustrated bark. You peak out from the shelves, spotting a lone woman tugging a leashed dog along.

Ah. You knew what this was. Everyone did. The other shoppers in the store paused too, staring at what was going on.

It was a rejected bond. When feelings between single soulbonded individuals become too bitter, the soul animal dissipates. Well, it was supposed to, and then reappear when feelings improve. But if the animal was constrained in some manner, then the animal can't disappear and is forced to remain in a physical form.

Judging from the leash on the dog’s neck, this was that same scenario. It was rather bold of the woman to bring the soul animal out in public if it was rejecting her like this. Almost brave.

Gothamites rarely helped each other, but things became a little sensitive with soul animals. You wouldn't be too surprised if there wasn't at least one attempt to free the dog today. It certainly caught attention. It could even catch.. vigilante attention.

You frowned. It was a shame to cut one of your few outings short. Sometimes there was no alternative though. You certainly wouldn't be sticking around.

You jumped at the sound of a shriek, eyes darting down to your bag where Robin rested. Robin glared venomously at your shoulder, and you glanced at it.

Your shoulder where… Ah. That would do it. Your shoulder where Red rested. Your third robin. You felt like crying. Why, why this pair?

You didn't even feel the bird as it appeared. Was that a testament to Red's stealth or your lacking observational skills?

Robin glared daggers at Red, practically hissing. You didn't even know birds could hiss. Red paid him no mind, instead looking very settled on your shoulder. The bird even snuggled your face a little. What a smug guy.

Another bark caught your attention. You glanced forward, remembering the scene. Your soul animal’s squabbling would draw too much attention. If any of the vigilantes were watching, you'd be in trouble. One robin soul animal was potentially excusable. But two? That would get you caught.

You tried to shush the two, a small signal for them to knock it off. Naturally, because it was these two, they ignored you. You groaned. This was far too public.

You grabbed Red, snatching him off your shoulder as gently as you could. Placing him gently into your shoulder bag, you tried your best to pretend the resulting screech from Robin wasn’t noticeable. The flap of your bag was closed, so no one could spot them… They could certainly hear if they came close enough though.

Time to leave. You paid for what you picked up and dashed out. The sight of rejected soulmates was generally considered disturbing, so anyone watching could just attribute your rush to that.

Were you paranoid?

Mayhaps a little.

You've justified it by the fact that you're probably soulmates with Batman and 4 robins, so paranoia is practically a requirement for your soul.

____

Hello ^ ^ welcome to my soulmate au! I do hope you enjoyed.

If you have any questions about the au, please feel free to reach out :D

[cece693]

Touch Starved (Edward Cullen x M! Vamp Reader)

Summary: You were touch starved and didn't mind it. However, not everybody was fine with it. Your mate found it frustrating, especially when this distance caused rumors to swirl.

tags: reader doesn't care about touch, Edward does, rumors, students creating drama, needy Edward

Touch had never been a necessity for you. Even before you were turned, physical closeness felt redundant. You didn’t need to be held or touched to know you were cared for. Love, to you, was a state of being, a quiet understanding, not something proven through gestures or physical contact. The presence of someone you loved—just standing with them in comfortable silence—was enough.

When you became a vampire, this aspect of you didn’t just remain—it intensified. Your heightened senses transformed every little detail into something overwhelming. The smell of a distant forest, the vibrations of life beneath the ground, the heartbeat of a creature miles away, all became vivid. But touch? Touch became unnecessary, intrusive even. Feeling every texture, every pore, every slight imperfection was a reminder of how alien you’d become. Instead of comfort, it brought only awareness of your distance from the human experience.

For a long time, it didn’t matter. When you joined the Cullen family, they learned quickly that casual touch wasn’t your thing. You preferred your own space, your hands often resting quietly in your pockets or folded loosely in front of you. They respected that. Alice, of course, was the exception. Her constant, affectionate touches were something you tolerated, knowing it was how she expressed herself. You didn’t need it, but you didn’t mind it, either. It was Alice. That was different.

But Edward was different too.

Edward was tactile, always reaching out to touch you, needing that physical connection to feel reassured. For him, it wasn’t just affection—it was an anchor, a way to feel grounded in your relationship. He needed the brush of your fingers, the warmth of your hand, the brief press of your shoulder against his. It was how he knew you still loved him, still wanted him. You understood that about Edward, and for the most part, you tried to accommodate him. Even if it didn’t come naturally to you, you wanted him to feel secure.

But over time, your calm detachment, your natural tendency to pull away from physical intimacy, began to stir whispers at school. You had always been composed, quiet, and serene—never one to make a fuss or draw attention to yourself. To the students, your cool distance with Edward was misread as disinterest, something they couldn’t help but gossip about.

"He doesn’t even look at Edward anymore."

"They’re never together—he’s always with Alice. Have you noticed that?"

"I don’t think he’s into him anymore. Relationships fall apart, you know?"

And those whispers, those rumors, fed into something larger. It didn’t take long for people to start trying to test the waters to see if maybe there was truth to the rumors. Jessica Stanley was the first.

"Hey," she had said one afternoon, leaning against your locker, flashing you an overly friendly smile. "If you ever need someone new to talk to, I’m always here."

Her words didn’t register much with you; you'd barely glanced at her. You weren’t irritated or amused—just indifferent. Jessica, like the others, was human. Temporary. It was a passing moment, one that would dissolve as quickly as it came. You saw no need to correct her or give her a second thought. You knew the truth, and that was enough.

But Edward, standing across the hallway, heard everything. He heard the thoughts that accompanied Jessica’s smile, her hopes that maybe, just maybe, she could wedge herself between the two of you. He heard the other students, too—the boys who lingered near you, the girls who whispered when you walked past. It weighed on him more than you realized.

He never let it show but you could feel it. Even if you weren’t one for touch, you could sense the quiet tension building in Edward. He wasn’t just hearing the rumors; he was internalizing them, letting them feed into his own insecurities. His need for physical closeness became a silent plea, something you recognized but didn’t fully understand until much later.

That night, Edward finally spoke.

"Doesn’t it bother you?" he asked, his voice calm, but edged with frustration. You were in your shared room, the darkness outside framing him as he stood by the window, his hands fidgeting with the fabric of his shirt.

You looked up from your book, your expression placid, as always. "What do you mean?"

"The students," Edward continued, pacing slowly. "The rumors. They think we’re falling apart, that you don’t care about me anymore."

You tilted your head. "They’re just rumors. Why do they matter?"

Edward’s golden eyes flashed with a frustration you weren’t used to seeing in him. "It’s not about them. It’s about us. They think I’m losing you. That I’m not enough. And then, when I see them trying to—”

"You know that’s not true," you interrupted, your voice soft. "You know how I feel."

"I do," Edward murmured, running a hand through his hair, his movements sharp with tension. "But hearing it—hearing them think about taking you, seeing how you pull away when I reach out—it’s like I’m losing you. Like you don’t need me."

You exhaled slowly, realizing how deeply this had been bothering him. You loved Edward deeply, more than anyone else, and you believed that your bond would be enough. Hell, he could read your thoughts—how they never strayed far from him—and yet, even that wasn’t enough. He needed to feel it, to experience it in a way you had always found unnecessary.

"I don’t need touch to feel close to you," you said gently. "But I understand that you do. And that matters to me."

Edward’s shoulders loosened slightly, but you could see the residual tension in his posture. "It’s just…I need to know that you still want me. That I’m still important to you."

"I’ve never stopped wanting you," you replied, stepping closer, your calm, steady presence meeting Edward’s anxious energy. You slowly reached out, brushing your fingers along his arm, letting the touch linger, even though it wasn’t something you needed. But you knew Edward did. His eyes closed for a brief moment, and you could see him relax under your touch.

"I’ll try," you said softly. "I’ll try for you."

The next day, at school, you made an effort. You didn’t flinch or pull away when Edward’s hand brushed yours in the hallway. At lunch, when your shoulders touched, you didn’t lean away. It wasn’t dramatic, just subtle adjustments. But Edward noticed, and so did the students. Jessica’s glances faded, and the other boys who had started to hover around you backed off.

For you, the need for touch would always be secondary. It wasn’t how you measured your love, and it never would be. But for Edward, it was everything. And for that reason alone, you would keep trying.

[mellosdrawings]

It was for mermay but since I'm reposting everything I might as well bunch post all of those.

Did you know ? Octopi are my favorite marine animals alongside sharks and jellyfishes! Every time I participate in mermay I draw at least one octomer.

Did you know ? There are actually three plurals of octopus : octopi, octopodes, and the most common octopuses. Technically all three are grammatically correct.

Did you know ? Some octopi living in the deep are bioluminescent! Azul's eyes already seem to be glowing the one time we see his merform. What if his actual merform was more colorful/luminescent but at the time he was just covered in blot so we couldn't see it ?

Did you know ? The smallest octopi measure about one centimeter while the biggest can measure up to ten meters. Murray eels however measure between fifteen centimeters and four meters.

I headcanon that underwater, Azul is muuuuch bigger than the tweels. But on land, since Azul is of average size for his species, he is also average size as a human. The tweels on the other hand are big for murray eels, so they are also big on land.

(Did you know ? I know far too much random trivia about octopi you'd think I have AuDHD and an unchecked internet connection- wait.)

[annasofthe11thdimension]

Alright, so this is basically...an art dump for all the pics i drew when i was trying to draft the ending i wanted my Odile looping Au 'Like a Wheel Ever Turning' which...is not even SLIGHTLY how this fic is going to end now, but while figuring that out i still like draw all this and had to do SOMETHING with it.

So figured I'd post it and be like 'hey! fun Odile looping act 5 boss fight vibes not connected to anything else!' since like...that basic IS what they are at this point lol.

The one cool idea i loved that i think is now FIRMLY ditched is the act 5 boss fight starts when Odile uses wish craft to splinter herself into two halves.

The 'old/current' her that is meant to be her coldly logical side, and a younger 'copy' version, which is meant to be the childish irrational side...that is what's stopping her just shutting down the time loop because she can't figure out how to be happy with her friends leaving.

I mean, if you murder the part of you that WANTS the wish to come true, that's basically a 'get out of time loop free card' right? Right! Totally sound logic!

Yes the 'young' version of her firmly believes that she's real, and also also got memories going up to about age 21, and also that she ought to be in Ka Bue not HERE among these french weirdos.

Also yes again, a 'young' Odile is EXACTLY as unhinged about this as you'd expect a 21 year old to be upon finding out that apparently the 'real' her think murdering her is the correct solution to this problem!

The shift of the fight was meant to have the inverse 'colors' shift from one version to the other by the end, wrapping up with the point where the 'original' Odile is forced to have a heart to heart with the personification of her perceived 'worst' qualities.

Pretty sure the vibes for this ending was a lot more focused on the resolution of having deeply complex feeling about EXPRESSING emotion directly to other people. That along with a side helping of how isolating it is to be perceived as a 'real' adult such that you can't be weak enough to ask anyone for help. Because really if you can't even be that then why are you any different then when you were irritating mess of a youth?

Not saying any of that isn't still present in the story, but like...there is a LOT of other stuff going on, and those themes are now linked into many other ones too, and that's not even TOUCHING on how Loop's been...somewhat complicating my redrafting lol.

...Also I might have drawn/plotted this version before i knew about two-hats lol. THAT also is a factor.

Anyway! Still liked all of these enough to want to do SOMETHING with them, and figured this worked, so i could like map out my thoughts on them, even if i never got to write this.

[transyashiro]

Hi, genuine question, why transandrophobia is not real? I just thought it was a word to describe the transphobia specifically targeted to transmascs, but if that is not the case id like to be corrected. Also your art is so beautiful I love it!

hey anon. firstly, thank you, i'm glad you like my art. secondly, i am at the end of the day just a guy who draws sometimes. this is a question which was already answered many times by transfeminists on here, and ideally you'd want to get the perspectives of tma people rather than mine. and just in general, keep up with discussions of transmisogyny and listen to transfems, yeah?

all that said, since you are asking me personally... to put it as simply as i can: transandrophobia, or transmisandry, is not real because misandry is not real. that should be the end of the discussion, really. there is no need for a special word to describe transphobia targeted at transmascs, because transphobia and/or other forms of oppression (real ones, Not misandry) depending on any particular situation already cover everything. why is there a desire for a special word to begin with, anyway? girls got one, we want one too? c'mon

but also like, all that aside, regardless of how real or not real transandrophobia is, it is a dog whistle. if someone associates with the transandrophobia crowd, they are most likely a transmisogynist. that should be enough of a reason to steer away from those guys and not trust them. sure, some posts by them might seem compelling or validating at a glance, i've definitely seen younger trans guys who don't know any better start looking in that direction because they feel like they are finally being given a tool to discuss their experiences. i assume that's partially why your question is framed like that, too, because a simple "we just want a word to discuss our oppression" is a lot more convincing than "we hate trans women and want to make them out to be the true oppressors" or "we're just men rights activists but with a trans flag, which also means that we are incapable of oppressing trans women because of our inherent connection to womanhood. don't worry about what that logic implies about our views of trans women" or... you get the picture. it's transmisogyny through and through, you don't even need to dig much

again, i hope you'll look more into what trans women have to say on this, it would do more good than my short clumsy explanation, but hopefully it at least gives you some vague idea

[orcasoul]

The Lesser of Two Evils

Chapter Summary: The night of the banquet and your entrance into Roman society arrives. However it is more complicated than you could have ever imagined...

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, angst, enemies(ish) to lovers, slow burn, protective Marcus Acacius.

Word Count: 6,080

Chapter 7 Wolves in Sheep's Clothing

Your pulse is thundering in your ears, your heart thumping equally as fast as you gape up at the grand entrance of the Domus Severiana. For the past few days Marcus had pretty much drilled into you the correct decorum and the expectations for tonight's gathering, had coached you on how you should and shouldn't speak and what you in turn should expect. All the preparation Marcus had given you had actually helped to quell the initial dread you'd felt when you'd first learned of the invite, a slight anticipation (the good kind) taking it's place. You'll get to see firsthand how the 'other half live' and maybe you'll even enjoy the experience.

But now being surrounded by the exquisite palace complex of Capitolone Hill with it's many finely dressed guests you fear you may be a bit out of your depth. You close your eyes, taking a deep breath when you feel a warmth enclosing your hand. "It's okay. You can do this," Marcus said, gently, warmth shining in his chestnut eyes. Just this one gesture from Marcus was enough to release the tension curing around your spine. "I know," you squeezed his hand gently. Marcus' eyes linger on yours a bit longer than necessary and your stomach does a little flip when you notice his gaze slip, briefly, to your lips. Suddenly his expression changes, looking like he'd momentarily forgotten himself and slowly releases your hand.

You mourn the lost connection, wanting nothing more in this moment than to reach out and take his hand in yours again. But judging by his quick shift you know it wouldn't be appropriate. So you do the only thing you can think of and pretend the moment - or whatever that was - didn't happen. His composure regained, Marcus waves his arm in front of you. "Shall we?" You and Marcus fall into step with one another. Entering the banquet hall every head turns your way as a loud voice announces to the room, "General Marcus Acacius." Marcus strides into the room, calm and composed under the watch of all in attendance. You, however, under the surface, are anything but. While Marcus exudes confidence, his mere presence commanding respect, you are fighting to keep the contents of your stomach where they are.

Thank the gods - your own and those of Rome - Marcus had been thorough in his instructions with you. That's the only reason you are now walking beside him with your head held high, going against all your instincts to not draw attention to yourself. In the past, the more invisible you were, the better. But this isn't the past, you have to remind yourself and you have nothing to fear anymore. Following Marcus' lead, you make your way to where the emperors are sitting. Shock almost stops you dead in your tracks as you observe the scene before you. Scantily clad women and men surround both emperors, shamelessly touching them and each other in ways that should never be seen in public. It's obscene, but even more shocking is that no one in attendance seems to notice- or care. Is this really how the upper class live in Rome?!

"Your Majesties," Marcus bows and you shake off your surprise and follow suit, looking anywhere, but at the naked breasts of a concubine sprawling on Geta's shoulder. If Marcus is just as uncomfortable as you, he's doing a good job of concealing it. "Ah Acacius..." Geta stands and claps his hands, then turns his attention to you, "and Alia." His mock smile couldn't be any less convincing. "It's good of you to come." "Thank you for inviting us, Your Majesties," you reply, nervously. "Look at you..." Geta's eyes rake slowly over your form, making you shudder internally. "Why, you look like a real Roman woman now." Before you can say anything, Caracalla comes to stand by you, that weird monkey creature hanging off of him. "But looks can be deceiving, brother," he ribbed, smirking at you. "True," Geta agreed. "I guess only time will tell."

"Emperor Caracalla," Marcus spoke, almost forcefully, trying to shift their focus from you. "Many happy returns on your Dias Natalis (birthday), I'm sure the games will be quite the spectacle." Caracalla bursts into a wide grin, like when a child is excited to talk about their favourite toy. "Oh they will be. Blood and death. Is there anything more exciting!" In your peripheral vision, you could see Marcus tense ever so slightly. "No, I suppose not," he said through a forced smile. "So..." Geta turned back to you. "How are you finding life here? Is Acacius treating you well?" The look he's giving you makes youf eel on edge. It's as if he's trying to gauge you. "Um, to be honest, Your Majesty, it's a very big change and it will take some getting used too. But the General has been wonderful. He's been very accommodating and attentive."

"I bet he has..." Caracalla quipped, glancing between both yourself and Marcus. Geta chuckled at his brother. Your polite smile dropped at the shameless innuendo and at the same time you could see Marcus curling his fist by his side, tension radiating off of him; a wound coil, ready to spring. These two boys (and the more time you spend in their presence, the more they seem just that; immature little boys) are obviously getting a kick from their attempts to rile up Marcus. But being the mature and level headed man he is, Marcus refuses to give them the satisfaction. "If you'll excuse us Your Majesties, we're quite thirsty." Caracalla waves his hand dismissively, focusing on the creature on his shoulder. "Of course, carry on." He then mumbles something incoherent to the animal as he walks back to his seat.

Geta's eyes shift between you and Marcus for a second longer before he says, "You two enjoy the evening. I'm sure everyone here will want to acquaint themselves with our little saviour," he gives you a wink then turns to rejoin his brother and their friends. Marcus lays a hand at the small of your back, gently ushering you away. "General!" a boisterous voice calls from a few feet away. "Antius!" Marcus exclaims, clasping the mans' arm. He's obviously happy to see him which instantly puts you at ease. "It's been a long time, old friend," the man - Antius - grinned. "I see you are recovering well." "It's been far too long," Marcus agrees with an easy smile. "Please, allow me to introduce Alia," Marcus gestures to you, then back to his friend, "Alia, this is Antius, an old brother in arms and a retired war hero."

Antius rolled his eyes playfully. "Enough of that 'war hero' stuff. I just did my duty." Antius now turns his focus to you. "It is a pleasure to meet you, my dear. A friend of Acacius' is a friend of mine," he said warmly, nodding his head. "Oh, the pleasure is mine, Sir. You're very kind," you reply in your rehearsed tone. A part of you cringed at the sound of your own tongue, all these practiced pleasantries making you feel somewhat detached from yourself. Another thing you'll have to get used too. while the two men catch up your attention wanders to the room and that's when you notice many of the people observing you, some discreetly, some more brazenly and even some side eyed glares from some of the women. Resisting the urge to shrink into yourself, you square your shoulders and and maintain a neutral expression, keeping your composure.

"That's very impressive, my dear..." Antius' voice brought you back to your present company. You didn't realise they'd been talking about you. Luckily, you didn't have to pretend you'd heard the conversation because Antius continued, "to have such odds stacked against you both, and yet you made it here in one piece. You're a very formidable woman." "That she is," Marcus smiled softly at you, his eyes crinkling in the corners. A warm blush creeps across your cheeks as both men praise you. This is something new to you and you're not entirely sure how you feel about it. So, you deflect some of the praise onto Marcus. "I never would have made it without Marcus. I owe him everything." Marcus' smile softened even more at your humble deflection. After a moment Antius clasped Marcus on the shouder, "Well, I shan't keep you any longer, Acacius. There are many here who wish to welcome you home and meet you, Alia. Have a good night, both of you," "You too," Marcus smiled at his friend as he walked away.

Marcus offered you his arm - which you gladly accepted - as you both weaved through the crowded room, stopping often as he is pulled into conversation, eager people hanging onto his every word as he explains how your unlikely alliance came to be. Thank goodness he left out the worst parts, the ones you'd rather not think of. When asked how you are adjusting to life here you answered as simply and politely as you could, not really feeling comfortable engaging with people who, earlier, were giving you snooty looks and are now smiling so pleasantly at you, falseness rolling off them in waves. Is this what it's always like? A servant walks by with a serving tray and Marcus takes two cups of wine, passing one to you.

Since arriving here you've had wine a few times - having been denied it in Germania. They never would have allowed it to 'go to waste on you', as you'd been told - but the taste is still overwhelming and you struggle to really enjoy it. Watching Marcus speak so easily with so many people leaves you in a state of silent awe. It's no wonder he's gotten to where he has in life. He's confident, but not arrogant, commanding, yet humble and he just seems to draw people in. You are truly grateful that your paths crossed, even if it wasn't under the best circumstances. At the start of your... friendship? you wouldn't have dared to place your trust in him, but now? Now you can't help but do just that. The realisation stirs up a feeling you've not felt in a long time. It settles deep into your chest, your stomach, into every part of your being, spreading warmth and contentment throughout. You know you're safe with him. No man has made you feel this way since Farro. Shit, you're in trouble.

"Acacius!" a womans' voice broke the air. The group surrounding you both immediately separated and bowed their heads as a tall and beautiful woman wearing a cream stolla, covered with a deep purple palla and a crown of laurels almost identical to the emperors' approached. Marcus bowed his head then quickly grasped her outstretched hands, smiling affectionately at her. "My dearest Acacius, how are you?" she asked, enthusiastically. "I am well, thank you My Lady," Marcus replied, kissing the back of her hand. "How are you?" "Much better now I know you're home safe and sound. I wanted to call sooner but I thought you'd need some time to settle." The easy interaction between Marcus and this woman speaks of something deeper than them being simply acquaintances.

It leaves you feeling like you're intruding and you're not sure where to look. Strange how Marcus had never mention her before. She's clealy a person of importance in his life. Your heart twists as you bare witness to the closeness they both share. What a fucking fool you've been. You've tried to bury the feelings you've been developing for Marcus since you'd arrived here, not ready to acknowledge that he's become so much more to you than a friend and tonight, when you've finally accepted them fate has decided to remind you that somene like you could never be enough for a man like Marcus. He's kind to you and attentive but that dosen't mean he has feelings for you. He's just being a good man, trying to do right by the woman who saved his life.

Tears tingle behind your eyes, but you blink them back and force a smile as Marcus turns to you. "Alia, allow me to introduce the Dowager Empress Julia Domna, mother of emporers Geta and Caracalla. My Lady, this is Alia." "It's nice to meet you, Alia." Your eyes widen in shock when you realise who you've just been staring at and immediately bow your head. "Your Highness, it's a pleasure. Forgive me I- I didn't know who you were." Julia chuckled. "It's quite alright. I won't hold it against you, after all, you'r new to all this," she waved her arm around the room. Julia now adresses Marcus, "Oh Acacius, when we recieved word of your survival I dropped to my knees and thanked the gods." Marcus smiled on one corner of his mouth and shook his head.

"Thank Alia, she saved me," he said turning to you and placing his hand tenderly on your back, the warmth of his touch causing goosebumps to break out over your skin. A blush spread from your neck to your cheeks and you were helpless against the coy smile that spread over your face. That smile falterd slightly as you brought your gaze back to Julia. For a split second you could have sworn you'd seen a flicker of contempt in her eyes as she regarded the exchange between you and Marcus, but as quickly as it came, it disappeared, smoothed out by a saccharine smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Yes, everyone has been taking endlessly about your heroic rescue. So, Alia..." Julia lifted her chin, looking down her nose at you, "What do you think of the heart of our empire?"

Pushing aside your unease, you try your best to sound equanimous under her gaze. "It's like something from a dream. I've never seen anything like it." Julia nods with a smirk that silently says 'Of course you haven't.' Julia looks back to Marcus. "How long are you home for?" "The Medicus estimates it'll be three to four months before I'll be able to return to duty." Julia's face lit up. "We have a lot to catch up on and a lot of time for it! May I call on you soon?" "Of course, Julia. My home is always open to you." They smiled warmly at each other and all you could do was stand there and watch as your heart phyically ached. Julia seems pleasant in her approach but you can't ignore the niggling feeling that something is off with her, something subtle that puts you on edge.

Maybe it's just nerves, you try to reason with yourself. Marcus appears completely at ease, so maybe you're seeing something that's not there. You decide to give her the benefit of the doubt since she's Marcus' friend. "General Acacius!" Three men around Marcus' age stride towards you, Marcus greeting them warmly. They clasp arms and bow to the Dowager Empress before Marcus introduces you. It's all a bit daunting, meeting so many strangers at once. You wonder how Marcus can bare this never ending attention. As the friendly talk turns to wars past and present, you notice Julia becoming restless. "Gentlemen, if you'll excuse us I shall take Alia to meet the senators wives and leave you all to your reminiscences."

Before you can even think to object, she links her arm through yours. Upon impact your muscles stiffen and your eyes dart to Marcus, hoping he'll intervene. For a brief moment he looks uncertain, then his brow eases as he nods at Julia and mouths a silent 'It's okay' to you. "I'll take good care of her, I promise," she winks at Marcus. "Gentlemen..." she curtsies and they all bow their heads, wishing you both a good evening. Marcus watches from the corner of his eye as Julia leads you over to where a crowd of women are gathered, all the while, fighting an internal war within himself; keep you close or let you mingle? It can only do you good to meet new people and so far he hasn't seen any hostility towards you, but nevertheless, he remains on guard, taking a glance your way every few minutes.

More men have now joined his circle; a few senators and their sons and a couple of wealthy nobility. Marcus is only half listening to their conversation until they begin to discuss you. He's beginning to grow weary of having of repeating the same story over and over. They've all heard the gossip, for goodness sake. Alas, here he is again, recounting the same events. "So we finally get to put a face to the name... and it's a pretty little face too. I can see why you wanted to bring her back with you, Acacius," one of the senators sons' waggles his eyebrows, suggestively. Marcus' amicable smile drops like a ten ton weight, his fists clenching at his sides. Never has he wanted to rip a mans' tongue out more! "What exactly are you insinuating, boy?"

Marcus spat the last word out. The arrogant little prick has the audacity to snicker. "Just between us men..." he leans forward, mouth ticking up smugly, "She any good? We all know her people are savages. Tell me, is she just as wild and savage in the sheets?" Marcus is now chest to chest with the man, who up until a second ago was all bravado. Now he looks like he's about to piss himself. "Do not EVER speak about her like that again, do you hear me?!" The man backs up, his palms facing forward in surrender, trying to hide his fear behind a placating smile. His father comes to stand beside him, laying a hand on his shoulder. "Oh come now, Acacius," the senator said trying to diffuse the tension, "It's all in jest." "Not at her expense!" Marcus hissed quietly, in an effort to keep the heated exchange between the group.

The jumped up little prick continues, "So you're telling us you haven't-" "No! I haven't!" Marcus snapped, face turning red and pulse thundering at his temples. Another man joins in, "It's a crime, really. Pretty little thing like that going to waste. If you're not going to enjoy her, maybe I-" "Do. Not. Finish. That. Sentence!" Marcus whirled on the man, eyes blazing. Fury burns under his skin. A few heads have now turned to the quiet but tense voices, but Marcus is beyond caring. Before he can say anymore - something he might regret - one of Marcus' companions places a hand on his shoulder in a gesture of support. "Easy now gentlemen. I'm sure the wine must have loosened their tongues a bit too much," he narrowed his eyes at the other men. "I'm sure they meant no offence."

"Of course not," the young mans' father insisted with a nervous smile. "If you'll excuse us..." and with that he left, his son and friends following after him, leaving Marcus with his original company. "Ignore them, Acacius" the older of the three says. "She seems like a lovely girl and I'm sure she'll do well here." With a strained smile Marcus nods in agreement and cast his eyes once again to where you are standing. It bothers him that your back is turned towards him. How will he know whether or not you need him if he can't see your face? Reluctantly, he resumes his conversation with his friends, telling himself you're fine.

Oh, but you're not. Watching theses women interact with each other makes you realise just how unfamiliar you are in social situations. In the past, when you had been at large gatherings your purpose was to serve and be practically non existant. No one ever spoke to you unless it was to order you or belittle you and over time you had become used to it. Now, people not only see you, they actually want to talk to you, like you have some kind of worth in this world. I'm just an oddity to them, that's why, you tell yourself. And indeed, you do feel odd, standing in amongst them. You may resemble them outwardly, matching their fine clothing, sparkly jewellery and glamorous hairstyles, but that's where the similarities die. Whereas they carry themselves with poise and confidence, their very mien reflecting their own self assurance of who they are, you fear your own appearance is merely a facade.

And the worst thing is what if they all see it. What if the fact you are trying so hard to fit in makes you stand out all the more. You take a deep breath, realising you're starting to spiral and that's the last thing you want. So you banish those thoughts to the recesses of your mind; you'll deal with them later. For now you'll smile and do what you can to appear like you belong. The usual questions are thrown your way; how you met the General, how you'd managed to escape and what you think of the city. A couple of the women seemed sincere and genuinely interested in your story, but you couldn't shift the odd feeling in your gut when it came to the others.

Their smiles were warm but their eyes were... cold, calculating, including Julia's. One older woman, the wife of a very respected consul - and whom Julia seemed particularity close with - appeared to somewhat enjoy the slight digs she gave you, hidden behind a mask of politeness. "So, is this your first time attending one of our celebrations, Alia?" she asked, looking down at you. "Yes it is, My Lady," you reply, respectfully. "Oh please..." she snorts at you, "call me Sabina." You shift, uncomfortably. "Yes, Sabina." "I thought as much. You do stick out like a sore thumb," she smirked. "Why, when I saw you gawping at Julia instead of treating her accordingly I nearly spat my wine out."

A few of the women snickered at her remark, including Julia who leaned into Sabina and squeezed her arm, conspiratorially before turning to face you. You hope no one has noticed the blood rushing to your cheeks. "Like I said, it's alright. I'm sure she'll learn our customs soon enough. In this instance we can make allowances," Julia paused, eyes assessing you with a mock head tilt, "for those who know no better." Any inclination you previously had about giving Julia the benefit of the doubt just fell apart. This woman is as snide as she is charming. All you can do in response is offer a tight smile, fingers gripping the stem of your goblet a little too tightly. "So, are the rumours true?" A dark haired woman, a little younger than you asked in a low voice. "What rumours?" You raise an eyebrow. "That you-" she looks around before dropping her voice to a whisper, "killed your own leader before you ran."

Of all the questions tonight, you weren't expecting that. All eyes now rest on you, expectantly. A lump forms in your throat, your chest constricting slightly at the memory. Schooling your expression, you answer flatly, "I had no choice. He tried to kill me; I didn't let him." A tense moment of silence ensues as you purposely avoid eye contact with all the women, downing the rest of your wine in one big gulp. "Well..." Sabina broke the silence, "I suppose an uncivilized upbringing worked in your favour there. I personally couldn't live with myself if I had to take a life-" "Excuse me," you say sharply and walk away, not wanting to hear another word from these snooty bitches. Even if it was discourteous - which it probably was, judging by the intrigued looks from those nearby - you don't care. Manners be damned! You just couldn't bare to stand there a moment longer.

Once across the room, you stop by a table full of various meats, fruits and pastries. There's no way your stomach could handle food right now. Placing your empty cup down (maybe a little too forcefully) you close your eyes and breath in deeply, focusing on the melodies of the musicians. What an idiot you have been, to have hoped that tonight, people would begin to see you as a person and not as something beneath them. It's obvious to you now that ignorant people exist in every culture and you'll just have to find a way to navigate this society if you want to be a part of it. If others can do it, maybe it's possible for you too; it'll just take time. You're suddenly startled from your pensive state by a rough tugging on your leg, them on your arm.

Your eyes widen in alarm as that strange... monkey creature clambers up to your shoulder. In a moment of blind panic an involuntary yelp bursts from you as you stumble backwards into the table. Shaking your arm violently does nothing to help; the creature refuses to let go, reaching a tiny hand towards your face. A raucous laughter echos through the hall and you see Caracalla practically doubled over on his seat, his cackling growing louder at your predicament. His laughter is joined by others throughout the hall. After a few moments, Geta rushes over to you, trying and failing to hold back his amusement. "Come now, Dondus... get, get!" he swats at the monkey until it lets go, bounding back over to Caracalla.

"You'll have to forgive Dondus," Geta chuckled, "he's quite insistent when he sees something he likes." Heart pounding in your chest, you place a hand over the area to catch your breath. You dare not look around now, lest you burn with shame. "Thank you, Your Majesty." A smug grin takes over Geta's face. "It seems he's not the only one who's taken with you." Geta's gaze lifts over your shoulder and you follow his line of sight to see Marcus stopped halfway across the room, watching you with pinched brows. "Acacius hasn't taken his eyes off you all night." "He's just looking out for me, Your Majesty," you say dismissively, not liking his condescending tone. Geta hums, "I've never seen him quite like this in all the years I've known him. It's almost like he's... bewitched."

That last word made your blood run cold! Your head turns abruptly back to Geta who's now sporting a knowing and satisfied smirk. "You... you know?" you stammer, wide eyed. "Of course I know," he raised his eyebrows smugly. "Acacius told us everything." Your mouth falls open, you want to speak but for a moment you're lost for words, anger, humiliation and betrayal battling it out inside you. Why the fuck would he tell them?! Finding your voice, you plead, "You must also know it's not true, what they accused me of!" You hate how desperate your voice sounds, but you can't help it. Panic wells up in your chest at the thought of being branded a witch again. "Oh there's no need to worry," Geta laughs off your concern. "Most educated people don't indulge such nonsense."

A shaky breath leaves your chest, relief washing over you. Before you can respond, Geta continues, "But I can't deny it makes you all the more... intriguing. People do love a gossip." What do you even say to that?! Lucky for you, you don't have to worry about it too much because Geta, now appearing bored, wishes you a good evening and struts back to his brother and crowd of flesh. All of a sudden the room feels to small; the walls, the very air weighing down and closing in on you. Your eyes dart towards Marcus, who nods at you with a slight frown, silently asking if you're okay. Is he fucking serious right now! His frown turns to confusion as you shoot him a glare of pure fury. You have to get out of this room, now.

Spinning on your heel and ignoring the lingering stares, you hurry outside onto the balcony. Much to your relief the balcony is mostly empty. The only other people out here are at the other end of the large space and out of earshot. The marble parapet takes the brunt of your white knuckled frustration as you try to process everything that just happened. If the strength of your hands matched the strength of the anger swelling deep within, the marble beneath your fingers would be dust now. All evening you've been trying to assimilate, being mindful of what you say, even striving to adopt the mannerisms of those you've been trying to fit in with, and all this time the emperors knew your most shameful secret. And if they know who else knows?

"Alia?" Marcus' hand on your shoulder causes you to flinch away from his touch, taking a step aside and turning your head away. "What's wrong? Did Geta upset you?" You release a sharp exhale, your grip on the parapet, tightening once more. A beat of uncomfortable silence passes before Marcus speaks again. "Talk to me. tell me wh-" "You told them," your voice simmers lowly with rage. "What are you talking about?" Marcus asked, clearly perplexed, which only served to infuriate you even more. "I'm talking bout you telling the emperors and, heaven knows who else, that I was condemned as a witch by my entire village!" Marcus remains silent and you finally turn to face him, his expression a mixture of guilt and sympathy. "I did," he nodded.

"Why? why did you do that?" Tears gather at your eyelashes but you refuse to let them fall; not here, not in front of Romes high society. "I had to tell them." Marcus closed the gap between you but you stepped away. "No, you didn't. It wasn't for you to say." "Please let me explain," Marcus insisted, dropping his voice to not draw attention. "I trusted you, Marcus. I trusted you and you went behind my back!" Your chin quivered and Marcus' chest tightened at the sight. If he could get away with it he'd march straight up to Geta and strangle him to death this very moment. "It wasn't like that, Alia. If you'll just listen to me-"

"All night..." you snapped, voice rising, "all night I've been surrounded by these people, smiling politely, trying to be someone I'm not, and that was fine as long as no one knew of my past. Do you realise how foolish I feel now? I've been presenting this... front," you wave your hand along your dress for emphasis, "yet they can all see right through me." Marcus reached for your hand but you pulled it away. His stomach dropped at your rejection. "I'm sorry, truly, but-" "Just leave me," you sigh, hanging your head. "I'm not leaving you all alone," Marcus scoffed, as if the very thought was absured. "Please!" your voice shudders. "I need some time alone, some space to breathe. I'll find you later." You turn back to the parapet, gazing out across the darkening city. Marcus releases a deep sigh. "Okay... take all the time you need. I'll be inside."

As he walks away, you allow your shoulders to sag and blink back the building tears. You feel so lost. All you wanted was the chance to begin over, to build a respectable life and even even discover who you really are. You're no longer a slave, no longer a Gutone or a Gemani, but you're not a Roman either. You're... nothing. Even when you become a citizen you'll always be an outsider, always be different. A deep mental fatigue begins to press down on you. Tonight has been draining and there's still hours left. You want nothing more than to walk out of here, go home and crawl into bed, just like you used to back in your village when you were dismissed. But this isn't my village and it's not the same thing, a little voice whispers in your mind. No sooner than that truth dawned on you did a flicker of stubborn defiance rear it's head.

Why should I leave? I am a free woman and as such I should not retreat and hide like the lowly slave I was. These people will think what they want of me unless I prove them wrong. And I can begin by walking back in there with my head held high. A new determination takes root. This is going to be hard but when were things ever easy? If you truly want change, you have to make it happen. Taking a long, slow breath, you tilt your head to the navy night sky, losing yourself in it's shimmering constellations and the many stories behind them. After several more minutes, with your heat rate slower and your head much clearer, you return to the banquet and take your place at Marcus' side. You can sense Marcus' eyes on you without having to look at him. "Are you alright?" he whispers, softly, hesitantly. "Yes, thank you," you reply with a forced, barely there smile, while focusing on the conversations around you.

A man in your company is talking very loudly and confidently, but what strikes you the most is that he dosen't appear to be of Roman origin, and yet here he stands, dripping in wealth and station. He is very obviously respected and of high class. Julia Domna is standing bedside him, showering him with the same affection she did Marcus earlier. "Oh, here she is," Julia exclaimed, her plastered on smile not fooling you anymore. "Macrinus, you haven't met Alia yet," she glances between you both. "Alia, this is Macrinus, another dear friend and a very successful arms dealer. He's even providing some of the best gladiators for the gemes. Macrinus, this is Alia, all the way from Gemania."

With a slimy grin and overinflated air of granduer Macrinus steps forward, taking your hand in his and brings it to his lips. "It is indeed an honour to meet the heroine we've heard so much about," he says after placing a light kiss on your hand. You fight the urge to pull your hand away. There's something disingenuous about this man. His smile, his voice, even his posture all seem... rehearsed. Forcing a polite smile, you reply, "It's very nice to make your aquaintance, Sir." Macrinus releases your hand but you feel the lingering touch and it makes your skin crawl. "Manners..." Macrinus grins broadly. "I see General Acacius has taught you well." A quick glance at Marcus reveals a tightness to his jaw. He steps closer to your side, eyes fixed on Macrinus. "She needs no instruction there." Macrinus' mouth ticks up at one corner. "Of course, Sir."

The night continues with food, wine, small talk and entertainment. You answer respectfully when people address you and hold yourself with the same poise as the women in attendance, determined to not give anyone here a reason to criticize you. The interactions between you and Marcus - little though there was - were simple and cordial. You're angry with him, yes, but you don't want that to be obvious to the public, so for appearances sake, you smile and play along. When the time came to leave you were more than ready. Speaking to so many people in such a short space of time has worn you out. Just as you were leaving Julia and Macrinus approached you and Marcus. His smile warmed for Julia but faltered slightly towards Macrinus.

"It was wonderful to see you again, Acacius," Julia beamed at him and held out her hand. Marcus gently took hold of her hand and placed a kiss on the back. A slight twinge in your chest caused you to avert your eyes. "And you, My Lady," Marcus smiled. "Please, call on me anytime." Julia turned her attention to you. "How was your first banquet, Alia?" Oh, how you want to be honest. "It was very... exuberant, My Lady," is the best you can manage. Julia chuckled, "Yes, you could say that. Well, I bid you both goodnight." "Goodnight, My Lady, Sir," you bow your head. Marcus said goodbye then escorted you out of the hall. Julia's saccharine smile dropped instantly, her eyes boring into the back of your head as you leave. Macrinus now also regards you with distaste. "Have your people keep a close eye on her, Macrinus. I'll not have some doe eyed Germani whore ruining our plans."

Series Masterlist Ch1 Ch2 Ch3 Ch4 Ch5 Ch6 Ch8 - coming soon

@bbyanarchist @myownwholewildworldwhole @imherefordeanandbones @picketniffler @h0w-1-wanna-l1v3 @chrissy-forfucksakes-wakeup @meetmeatyourworst @yorksgirl @joeldjarin @echo-ethe @whirlwindrider29 @abbyanarchist @suzyface @missadangel @evyiione @longlivekingminnn @heramj @javiismyhsbnd @kxthxrinx0310 @inept-the-magnificent @liciafonseca @marrowfrog00 @moompie @anoverwhelmingdin

[borfungus]

HI I really like your tangible form designs for the Expressions and the Universe! The Universe especially I thought was really cool with the multiple arms reaching from the void, they really do look godly, like from Hindu mythology! If you have more to share about your designs I'd love to know :)

I tried to keep this short. I failed! MAJOR isat (and also, Slay the Princess) spoilers ahead!!

The Universe-

I have a couple paintings I've done so far featuring 'The Universe' as several disembodied blue hands coming from the void (here and here cw for blood on the first one!)

I took the phrase 'The Universe leads, we can only follow' rather literally! The Universe is an outstretched hand, The Universe is a tight grip, The Universe pushes and shoves and leads and holds.

The phrase "A wish in one hand, dirt in the other" also came to mind! Basically, wishing can only do so much, and you need to apply practical action to reach your goals. There's somewhat of a double meaning if you apply this idiom to Wish Craft. Intention is important, yes (for example, all of Dormont wishing for Vaugarde to be saved), but Siffrin's wish had the power to set off the events of the game because he knew the correct ritual/actions. Also, Siffrin's wish gave them the ability to get what they wanted (to stay with their family), but their lack of action (telling them about the loops) kept them stuck. His Wish was just not enough. And so, this paragraph about an old idiom basically to explain that I picture the Universe holding the Wishes in it's hand, taking the leaves wished on, throwing the shooting stars, and taking the wishes to where they need to go for the wish to be fulfilled.

And it's TOTALLYYY not because I finished Slay The Princess a few weeks ago and saw parallels between The Shifting Mound and the Universe....and I also just liked her design with the arms...thats TOTALLY not the reason (it's at least, not the ONLY reason! Everything above is also true!)

I have to be completely honest now, I totally didn't even think of the Hindu god connection. I will have to do more reading/research on that because I don't want to inadvertently draw something too similar to that (I am so white! I don't know anything about it! It's not really my place to!) without being properly informed!! Thank you for bringing that up lol!

The Expressions - ok this is a lot

This one is based on some Odile dialogue!! (thank you ISAT Script Project thank you thank you) That post was the first time I had drawn The Expressions as a tangible being, but I had the idea clunkin around in my head for a while after I finished the first Universe painting. We know like so little about The Expressions, so I'm going off of these Odile lines;

{ID: Odile: Well... in Ka Bue, you'd burn the body and take the ashes to a Gemmaker to transform them into a diamond, but that won't be easily feasible, will it...}

Gems seem to be pretty important in Ka Bue culture, and I'm making the logical leap that different gems have different meanings. Diamonds seem to be related to rememberance, grief, death, end of life, etc. You're made into a diamond when you die, and this is important enough that there is an entire profession surround it. SO basically- Gems = Important

guess who's about to make another logical leap! ! ME

{ID: Odile: GEMS ALIVE, Isabeau}

We giggle and goof and laugh about crab and stars and crabbing and blinding but I don't see! a lot of people talk about the Ka Bue explitive gems! Each of the 3 country's choice swear ties back to their religion. Crab being a reference to carsinisation/carsinization (Everything becomes a crab, and it seems to be against the Change belief for everyone to be the same) , The Universe religion is all about Space and Stars and the Space between us etc etc, and we've already established gems are important in Ka Bue culture! This is potentially a fun Ka Bue version of "Sakes alive!", which is sort of like "For God's sake" / "Goodness sake". It's funny but, what if, we take it a little too seriously hmmm? What if, in Ka Bue, they really do consider, Gems to be Alive? Isn't it quite interesting how they are then turned into diamonds at death? Is it the belief that people's Spirits continue to live on in diamonds?

I can't find the specific dialogue about there being thousands of Expressions, but Odile explains that there are Expressions for everything, and you can choose which ones you want to pray for at a time. Odile has a few she mentions she prays to - "The Expression of Search, the Expression of Writing, the Expression of Creator Craft, and lately, the Expressions of Battle and Victory" I belieeeeve the gems Odile wears on her glasses are the Ka Bue way to Pray to the Expressions. It seems like gems are the connection between humans and divinity in Ka Bue, I'm going to make the assumption these are NOT diamonds, I'm not sure Odile would wear the remains of someone as,,, an accessory. That doesn't seem like her

So different types of Gems, are potentially, connected to different Expressions? What if each Expression is represented by a specific Gemstone? (In real life, there are only like 300 types of gemstones, but, but, but MAYBE!! The CUT!!! Is also PART OF IT! ok)

So each Expression is represented by a different Cut and Color of Gemstone. I'm going to connect these Point Cut Quartz? to the Expression of Creator Craft. It's the same shape!! As the gem decal!! on her book!

So ALL OF THAT TO SAY OMFG, that is why I made em different Gemstone types and cuts. Each individual gem is an Expression.

(also, i tried to tie it to Expressionism as an art movement, but I think I didn't do such a good job at that.)

THAT WAS SO LONG!!! I got carried away! hope that answers that LOL

[windvexer]

Hey Chicken! I'd like your help with getting some perspective

There's a prosperity candle working I made and did once that worked decently well the first time I did it, but then because the outcome it brought was small in scale (it brought in a work project that brought a small amount of money, once-off), I set about tweaking it so that the spell outcomes would be bigger (ergo, more money, more regularly)

Problem is, the tweaked versions simply did not hit at all.

For additional context, the OG working was pretty simple (speaking directly to the herbs and working them) and the later versions involved planetary invocations and specific instructions and milestones for the working (e.g. Invoking planetary energies and angels, and specifically saying working must bring at least $xyz per month via business income, and xyz number of new clients)

My question is: can it happen that a working just fails because the working itself is only able to accommodate simple outcomes, and that if I want more detailed/complex outcomes I gotta completely rework it entirely to accommodate that complexity?

Or is it a matter of "more complexity, more energy and better working/ritual programming for the spell is required"?

I don't think I could really hazard a guess but these would be my first thoughts:

Planets are maybe not the most out-of-the-box power you could work with, in that how well planetary powers works for any individual can vary quite a bit. And to integrate/harness that power might require things like planetary initiations (which to me are somewhat like formal introductions, request for tutelage, etc).

In my practice, talking to an herb and asking it for help is very unlike a formal evocation of a planetary power. One lives in the ground and the other lives in the sky. That's like, two separate directions.

It sounds like you're still doing a candle spell, but instead of working with a plant ally you switched to planetary evocations, which to me would constitute an entirely different spell (of course, it depends on how you slice it).

Invoking something bigger and badder isn't necessarily an avenue of power. Consider that as the practitioner you're the bottleneck: if your skill level caps out at being able to raise and direct, say, 100 units of power, it doesn't matter if you switch from a plant willing to provide 1500 units of power or a planet that could provide 15,000 units of power.

Another level of difficulty in working with planetary powers is drawing them into spellcasting space; we can bring a bit of plant matter in no problem, but to effectively work with planetary powers a person might need not only proper timing but also perhaps talismans or other avenues of connection.

If I were in your shoes I'd consider these avenues of troubleshooting:

Examining if prerequisite skills are up to the task of raising and controlling much greater amounts of energy

Whether or not you were doing things when working with the herb that you stopped doing when you brought in the planets (like, maybe going deeper into magical headspace and focusing on the power of your words, whereas with the planets you just read hymns off a sheet and weren't dwelling with your power)

Returning to the original format of the spell and experiment with supercharging or other methods to attempt to obtain desired goals

Switching spell formats to something more long-lasting (in my paradigm, candle spells really just don't create ongoing cyclical effects like the kind you seem to want; I'd be more inclined to try something like a spell jar)

Examining your natal chart to see if the planets you're calling on are particularly poorly appointed for you

Researching planetary magic to ensure you're actually calling the correct planet for your purposes

Examining planetary invocation techniques and investigating whether or not you'd be served by additional magical techniques (planetary initiations, establishing formal working relationships, etc)

Switching spell formats: keep what works (speaking over the herb) and bring the planet in as a supporting power to open roads and provide energy, and see if that has any impact on your spell at all.

Calling those same planetary powers for other situations to see if they way you're working with them has any effect at all.

Trying to obtain a deeper working relationship with the plant ally and learning from it how to obtain the results you desire

[keeshya6]

What to Expect

Joel Miller x F!Reader Insert

6.5k words

(18+ only. MDNI. To continue, please click “Keep Reading” below.)

This is canon divergent. In my head it's before Joel gets to the Boston QZ, and Joel doesn't know Tess.

There is definitely an element of dubcon to this, due to some glaring imbalances in the power dynamic. However, ultimately, Reader is a willing participant. So it's dubcon-ish.

This could probably be read as a stand-alone one-shot. However, it is a part two. Basics to know from part one: Reader met Joel after his crew killed the people she depended on for protection and, upon realizing this, she offered herself to Joel. Simply put, sex in exchange for protection. Joel demanded a demonstration of her abilities, which she gave to him in part one. Now they are heading back to his camp.

Find part 1 here: Worth the Effort

This will continue to be a series of connected one-shots, I think. No particular timeline planned for posting though.

Please let me know your thoughts, especially if you'd like me to continue this pair's one-shots!

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoy!

CW: Little bit of plot, if you squint, but mostly Plot-what-plot? Power imbalance, dubcon-ish, gruff Joel, Dom/sub, dirty talk, manhandling, semi-public kink, sexual acts outdoors, breast play, finger-fucking, mild exhibitionism, mild degradation, mild humiliation, mild praise kink, Joel's an asshole. Let me know if I've missed any, please.

----------------------

Beams of moonlight filter through the forest canopy, lighting up sections of the surrounding wilderness as you follow Joel.

It's a full moon, so even though the sun set a while ago now, you can still see fairly decently. There are some sections though, where not as many leaves have fallen from their branches yet, and you have to pick your steps even more carefully so you don't trip over a hidden root or a critter's burrow. Even Joel slows his confident strides in those areas. Neither of you want to deal with a twisted ankle out here.

For the most part you travel in silence. Generally speaking, it’s safest that way. Plus, he doesn’t seem like much of a talker.

After a while though, you do ask a few questions, trying to get some conversation going.

“How many are in your group?”

“‘Fifteen or so.”

“How long have you been traveling with them?”

“A while.”

“Why were you the only one that backtracked to my camp?”

This is a guess on your part. You don’t actually know how he came across your camp, but you figured that he must have decided to find it after his crew killed the rest of your group. Or rather Phillip’s group. It makes sense, to check for the supplies, and he doesn’t correct your guess now.

“Didn’t need anyone else with them all dead. I can handle a guard or two on my own.”

You have no doubt.

Some small part of you thinks you should feel insulted that he would assume he could handle whoever was left behind. The rest of you shuts that part down though. After all, it’s not like he’s wrong. If you had put up a fight, rather than offering yourself to him in exchange for protection (with a blow job as a convincing argument), you know your body would be growing cold by now, next to the fire he had doused before leaving.

You’re quiet for a while again, picking your way through the trees and adjusting the pack on your shoulders. It feels like you’ve been travelling all night, but the moon is still decently high in the sky.

When the unkempt brush and foliage near the forest floor starts to thin, Joel slows down and gestures for you to come up by him, now that there’s more room.

He glances over at you as he adjusts the rifle strap on one shoulder, and the backpack on the other. Then he looks ahead again, eyes studying the terrain around you.

“How long were you with that group?” he asks.

“About eight months, I think.”

His brows draw together. “But no loyalty?”

You hesitate, glancing his way. You know your answer could hold some serious weight here, given the situation you find yourself in.

“If they were still alive…sure. We were never close, but they kept me alive. With them dead though…well, loyalty losses out to pragmatism.”

After a few quiet moments, he nods and looks your way again.

Feeling his eyes on you, you glance over in time to catch the way his eyes drag down your body.

A faint warmth creeps up your neck and into your cheeks as you dart your eyes forward again, pretending not to notice. You mentally stamp down that blush with a frown at yourself, grateful for the shadows.

It isn't long before he breaks the quiet again, his voice lower. “What was his name?”

You almost ask him ‘Who?’ but then realize the likely subject.

“Phillip.”

He nods. “What did you do for Phillip?”

Your eyes dart his way again and you give a faint huff of a laugh. “Well… we fucked,” you say with a shrug, unsure of what else he’s looking for.

A faint scoff meets your ears. “Yeah, Darlin’, I was able to figure that part out. Was lookin’ for more than that.”

You toss a confused frown in his direction. “More? What, you want to know the dead man’s favorite positions? Doggy style. Occasionally missionary and cowgirl. And yeah, he liked getting sucked off. What more do you want to know?”

His hand reaches out to catch your arm and stop your forward momentum, making you gasp softly in surprise before you turn to look up at him. He’s closer now, looking down at you through the shadows, studying you.

“Really?” he says lowly. “Pretty thing like you and all he wanted was… typical sex?”

A tremor races up your spine. It’s nerves, you think, but maybe a bit of thrill too.

Because, even in the shadows, you can see the undeniable interest in his eyes as they move over your face…and dip lower. And if you’re honest with yourself, it’s been a while since a good-looking guy has come along and looked at you that way. Even Phillip -who was decent-looking but just not your type- hadn’t looked at you with heat in his eyes like Joel is right now.

Smoldering. That’s the word. The look in his dark eyes is definitely smoldering.

“Yes?” is all you manage to squeak out, your eyes searching his face.

“Hmmm…” he hums softly, releasing you and turning to continue walking.

You swallow hard, letting out a shaky breath and taking a moment to collect yourself before quickly turning to follow.

“Did you make him the same offer?” he asks, over his shoulder.

Oh, okay. So you’re not done talking about this.

“Um… yeah. Basically.”

“Pretty much anything he wanted in exchange for protection?” he challenges.

“Yes…”

“Must not have been very imaginative…” he mutters under his breath with a chuff, his eyes locking on the light mottled forest ahead.

You almost don’t catch the comment, and a confused frown tugs your brows together as you pick your path carefully behind his.

Several minutes pass in silence again, before your curiosity starts to get the better of you. In fact, you open your mouth to question him, when he breaks the silence a split second before you do.

“We’re almost there,” he says, jerking his chin forward. “That light ahead is from my crew’s camp.”

Your questions momentarily forgotten, your eyes dart ahead again and it takes you a moment to notice the orange flickering light, still distant and partially obscured by bushes somewhere between here and there.

“We need to go over some ground rules before we get there, Darlin’,” he rumbles, and waits for you to turn your eyes back to him and nod your head before he continues. “First, when we get in there, you do not speak yet. If they get a whiff that you’re part of the group from this morning, you’re dead. Far as they know, I found you wanderin’ alone.”

Wide eyed, you nod quickly.

“Good. Next: as long as you want my protection, you are mine. Only mine. No jumpin’ to someone else and then expecting to come crawlin’ back to me. You belong to me. Understood?”

Your brows lift slightly at his choice of wording. You belong to me. There was a time when any such declaration would have had you sneering in return. But that was before, and this is now. Instead, you just nod again. After all, you had said your offer was only for him anyway. At least rule number two doesn’t conflict with your own rules.

“Okay. And speakin’ of my protecting you, you better not have any issues followin’ orders whenever shit hits the fan. I tell you to duck, you duck. I tell you to run, you run. And anything in between. Got it?”

Swallowing hard, you nod again.

“Say it.”

“I understand. I’ll follow your orders.”

“Alright. Good.” He shifts the pack on his shoulder, turning his attention back towards the light. “Let’s go.”

Following him again, you nibble at your lip as you replay the conversations in your head, while the both of you pick your way carefully and circle around to approach from another direction. Joel briefly comments that this direction is less likely to get either of you shot, since someone named Tommy is on this side of the camp.

Not that he explains who Tommy is.

You can see the fire more clearly now through the trees, growing larger as you approach. You’re just barely able to make out a few tents and people around the fire. Even two small cabins a little ways back, each one barely big enough for a bed. Most of the people you can see -about eight- are laying down in sleeping bags near the fire, presumably sleeping and unlucky enough to not have their own tent, or given access to a cabin. A few are sitting up and appear to be talking and a couple others are standing and walking around, guns in hands. Patrols.

At about a hundred feet away, with the light from the fire still not illuminating either of you in the shadows of the trees, you come to a halt, your fingers nervously fidgeting with the strap of your backpack.

While you had been managing to move pretty quietly, Joel still notices the change immediately and also stops, turning to look at you.

“What is it?” he hisses in a whisper.

Taking a deep breath, you tick your chin upward as you study his shadowed face, your voice soft too, to avoid drawing attention from the camp in the near distance.

“What did you mean… when you said Phillip wasn’t very imaginative?”

Joel cocks his head slightly, his brows lifting. Then a faint chuff escapes him, much like the sound he’d made with the comment earlier. “Didn’t realize ya heard that, Darlin’. You really wanna talk about that…right now?”

“Yes.”

He considers for a moment and then takes a single step closer to your side, to within a couple feet of you, his eyes unabashedly dragging down your body again and then slowly returning to your face. “I meant that he wasted a good opportunity. That is, if you’re serious about the offer of ‘pretty much anything’ I want… and depending on what ‘pretty much anything’ means to you.”

You blink a few times, nervously slipping the tip of your tongue out over your lips to wet them. It’s impossible to miss the way Joel’s eyes track the minute movement.

“I…I was serious. But now I’m more curious what ‘pretty much anything’ means to you.”

A low hum passes his lips and he cocks his head to the side again. After a pause, he murmurs, “I'll ask one more time, Darlin’: you really wanna know…right now?”

You swallow thickly and then nod again, once. “Yes. I'd like to at least have an idea…before I step foot into your camp.”

A muscle in his jaw ticks, and you can see that he traces his teeth with his tongue, behind closed lips, as he looks over your body again in thought.

“Well, Darlin’, it could mean a lot of things. Some days I may be wantin’ things as simple as he did: just sex. Might come back from huntin’ and want you on your knees again…or your hands and knees… or on your back,” he rumbles.

The way he says, his baritone voice dipping with a faint rasp, it sends a surprising warmth across your skin. You can feel it in your chest, up your neck, and into your cheeks. You’re grateful for the generally black-and-white view of the world around you in the evening’s relative darkness.

You give a little nod. “Okay…and other days?”

Joel steps even closer to you, leaving barely six inches between his broad chest and your shoulder. Your breath stills and you look up at him with your head tilted.

“Other days? On other days…I’ll want to play with you,” he says lowly.

Blinking up at him rapidly, you can’t help the way your brows pull together even as your eyes slightly widen. You inhale deeply, feeling the warmth in your cheeks heighten as your chest lifts.

“Play with me?” you repeat in a whisper. “That’s a little… vague, don’t you think?”

Your thoughts are bouncing through so many possibilities of what that loaded word could mean, that you fail to notice Joel shifting beside you, closer still to your side, but now angled behind you a bit. It’s so he can lean down and whisper near to your ear, his breath warm on your skin, snapping you out of your ricocheting thoughts.

“Yes,” he admits, “but I could just… show you.”

It takes a moment for you to recognize your own words from earlier in the day -offering to prove your worth to him- as he turns them back on you. Your eyes widen a little more and your head turns over your shoulder to look at him again, finding him so close that you can feel his breath on your cheek, your own catching in your throat.

“Well?”

Exhaling shakily, you give him a tiny nod. “Okay…but…” You hesitate, mouth twisting up to the side.

Joel stops, his head cocking to the side as he studies you.

“What if there’s something I…really don’t want to do?” you squeak out. “I mean… I did say ‘almost anything’.”

Dark eyes narrow at you and then he snorts a faint huff. “Pick a word, Sweetheart. One word, that you’d never scream while gettin’ fucked.”

His blunt words make your blush deepen.

“Whatever word you choose, you gotta remember it. I’m not goin’ to be askin’ you about it. You have to remember it and use it, if you need to. If I don’t hear it after today though, then don’t expect me to stop until I’m ready to. And don’t think you can get away with using it all the time either. That happens? We’ll have to revisit our arrangement. Understood?”

Your eyes widen throughout his declarations and then with a shiver you nod, licking your lips nervously. “Okay. Yeah, got it. Um…” You glance around at the dark forest surrounding you until your eyes fall on the shadows of a tree in a distant patch of moonlight. “Willow,” you finally say, looking back at him.

“Willow?” he repeats.

You nod. “Yes, Willow.”

“Okay. Willow it is.” He pauses before quirking a brow. “Ready?”

Clenching your jaw for a moment, you take a deep breath and then nod once. “Ready.”

An unreadable smirk tugs up one side of his mouth and he nods, slipping his backpack off his shoulder and quietly setting it down on the ground. He does the same with your backpack, pulling it off your shoulders and setting it beside his bag as you watch him over your shoulder.

Adjusting the rifle strap on his other shoulder, he closes the distance between you without a word of warning, making you jolt slightly. It draws out a faint chuckle from him that you would have missed, if not for the fact that his chest is now pressed against your back and one big hand has slipped around your waist, holding you firmly against him.

Swallowing thickly, you turn your head towards him again over your shoulder, though you can only barely see him out of the corner of your eye.

“Now, Sweetheart, playin’ with you could change from day to day. You could say I’m a man of…eclectic tastes.” He chuckles softly into your ear. “For example… playin’ with you right now… I’d call this semi-public play, which I've always liked. Never know if we’ll get noticed, after all.”

Your breath stutters and your eyes snap to the camp up ahead. There isn’t much movement, and you can see the two men that are patrolling. Even if they patrol on this side of the fire, it doesn’t look like they are going far from the light, so still at least 60 feet from where you and Joel are shrouded in shadows.

Still, the possibility of being caught doing…well, you’re not sure what yet, but…something…has you shivering.

Of course, being held against him, Joel notices and chuckles darkly again.

“How about we test their awareness, hm?” he rumbles against your hair and you swallow hard, heat licking down your spine and pooling between your legs, despite your growing anxiety.

“O-okay,” you barely stammer out.

“Mmm…let’s test how well you take orders too, hm? Open up your jacket.”

Your teeth catch the corner of your lower lip and you take a deep breath. With a little nod, you reach up to the zipper of your jacket and slowly drag it down, trying to keep it as quiet as possible. You push either side open, to reveal the dark green button-up shirt beneath it that hugs your chest.

Over your shoulder, Joel’s head tilts to look down the front of your torso, his mouth still lingering near your ear, his patchy beard catching the strands of your hair. “Hmmm… and now the shirt, Darlin’.”

Air hisses between your teeth in a stuttered breath, your eyes darting around the nearby trees, as if someone else might step out to watch you. You nervously flex your fingers a few times before reaching up to the top button and freeing it. Then the next. And the next. Cool air meets your skin as it’s exposed in a stripe down the center of your torso, the simple, faded tan of a bra peeking out.

Joel watches your hands move to undo each button and then, when they drop to your sides again, he reaches around with the arm that isn’t already at your waist. Calloused fingers slip under the open collar of your shirt, brushing across your collarbone and making you tremble despite yourself. He flips the one side of your shirt open and then the other, exposing more skin to the cool air, and the cotton hugged globes of your breasts.

Goosebumps dance across your skin and you bite your lip, glancing around again to spot the two men patrolling -still a long ways off- before you look over at Joel out of the corner of your eye.

He meets your look with an unapologetic smirk, then looks down the front of your body again as his fingers trace the edge of your bra cup, then trail down between your breasts and over your stomach. They pluck at the button holding your jeans closed as a rumbling, thoughtful hum comes up in his chest.

It takes every bit of control in you to not shiver again at the sound, heat licking through you, despite the cool air, and settling low in your belly and between your thighs.

Damn. When was the last time a man had drawn this sort of reaction out of your body so quickly? So easily? You honestly can’t remember. And it’s frustrating.

Not that you’re able to dwell on it for long.

“Pull the cups down, Darlin’. Let’s see what they're hiding…”

You swallow hard and take a shuddering breath, eyes fluttering and darting around for unseen observers again, until Joel’s breath against your skin distracts you as he rumbles in your ear.

“They’re not likely to see you, pretty girl. Not tonight…maybe another day, but not tonight. Well…as long as you don’t make too much noise and draw attention, anyway.”

Maybe another day?

Your lips part to question that statement, but then you think better of it and snap your mouth closed again. After another brief glance around you, you take a deep breath and close your eyes, tilting your head back to lean it against his shoulder.

After all, even if someone from the camp does happen to notice you, does it make much of a difference regarding your choice? Do as he says… or don’t. It’s really as simple as that in the current moment, possible audience aside.

So, with one more deep breath, your hands glide up over your stomach and to your chest. Fingers curl over the top edge of the cups of your bra and, after another moment of hesitation, you pull them down and hook them under the curves of your breasts.

The cool night air sweeps over your exposed tits and your nipples immediately pucker, peaks tightening into hardened buds. A shiver courses through your veins, more goosebumps dancing across the newly bared skin.

Instinct has your hands moving to cover your chest, but Joel’s larger hands catch your wrists and guild them back down.

“Mmmm… good girl,” he purrs into your ear. “But don’t go hiding ‘em now, sweetheart. You’ve got such a pretty pair of tits. We’re gonna let ‘em breathe a bit.”

The praise sends another shiver down your spine, especially with the way his voice drops into another rasp as he says it. Or maybe that shiver is the result of your nervousness at feeling so exposed.

Maybe it’s both.

Feeling the scruff of Joel’s beard brushing your cheek, you crack your eyes open to look at him. His focus is still down the front of your body though, from over your shoulder, and it’s like he’s drinking in the sight of your chest, a faint smile pulling at his lips.

You’re not sure if you’d call that smile appreciative or wolfish. Again, maybe it’s both.

Either way, it makes you shiver once more.

Joel doesn’t miss those shivers with you pressed against him, and his head ticks to the side a fraction, dark eyes catching you watching him. His brow lifts slightly and then his smile widens a little.

Yeah, it’s definitely both.

His eyes hold yours for several long moments, gaze contemplative, calculating.

Time seems to slow as your eyes dart between his, your heart hammering in your chest, waiting for what he’ll do or say next.

It catches up fast though when he releases your wrists and those big hands glide up your sides, over your rib cage, and finally wrap around your breasts.

Your lips pop open to hiss in a breath, back instinctively arching and pressing you into the warmth of his rough palms. Softer skin pillows between thick fingers that gradually apply pressure, squeezing. A little more and your eyes flutter, your lip curling in to catch between your teeth.

You feel more than hear the low rumble in Joel’s chest against your back as his hands knead at your tits.

His teeth startle you, nipping at the curve of your jaw. It makes you squeak in surprise and you both go still, two sets of eyes darting forwards towards the camp.

Once it’s obvious that no one heard, Joel chuckles as his mouth and nose nuzzle against the hair directly behind your ear. “Better keep quiet, Honey. I ain’t ready to show you off like this yet.”

“‘Ye-yet’?” you gasp out softly.

Another, darker chuckle. “Mhmm… think there’s much privacy with movin’ around and camping? Best get that idea outta your pretty head. I'm lucky enough to have a cabin for now, but that’ll change in a day or two when we move on, and I won’t always want to wait for privacy, Darlin’.” His voice becomes a soft growl then. “Besides…I got no issues with showing off what’s mine; so everyone will know you're mine.”

Your eyes, still focused on the quiet camp, widen as he speaks.

Well, shit.

Sex fully in public was so far off your radar, you're not sure it's even in the same ocean.

Maybe you can talk him ou-

The thought sputters into oblivion as a current of sharp pain blended with aching pleasure ripples across your breasts. You barely manage to catch a startled cry in your throat before it has a chance to escape, by clenching your jaw shut, turning the sound into a ragged whimper as your eyes tear downward.

Joel's index fingers and thumbs are clamped onto each of your nipples and he makes a low sound of amusement. He gives them a firm pinch again.

This time the pain isn’t quite as sharp, since you’re expecting it, but it’s still there. And given that your nipples have always been sensitive you can’t help the way your body jolts. It licks outward, turning into heat that runs through your veins. The pleasure that mingles with the sensation creates a fresh wave of arousal, your cunt clenching.

“Responsive little thing, aren’t you?” he rumbles, and barely twists the buds.

You bite back another strangled whimper, eyes squeezing shut and head dropping back against his shoulder again. Your fingers claw uselessly over the thighs of your jeans before curling into the bottom hem of your open shirt, gripping the fabric tight.

He keeps toying with your breasts for a few minutes, alternating kneading and palming at them with pinching the peaks to keep them hard and listen to your little gasping sounds.

Finally he gives you a brief respite, releasing your chest after a final tug on the peaks that has your back arching sharply.

Your breath stutters again when he wraps an arm around your torso, just under your tormented breasts, tugging you back into his chest. He mouths at that spot behind your ear again, facial hair scraping against your skin. His voice is low and husky, and obviously amused.

“Mmmm… lookin’ forward to properly playing with those tits, Darlin’,” he says. “But for now…”

Swallowing hard, you look over at him, just as you feel his free hand find its way to the front of your jeans. He pops open the button and drags the zipper down, those dark eyes finding yours again as he does, a smirk pulling at his mouth.

You’re not sure if you're frozen due to nervous anxiety or excited anticipation, and once again you realize it doesn’t have to be one or the other.

Then his hand is inside your jeans, pushing down between your thighs, over your panties.

The low, pleased groan he gives meets the pathetic little mewl that passes your lips as your hips rock with a mind of their own.

“Fuckin’ A, this all for me, Sweetheart?” he rumbles into your ear, his fingers seeking and swiftly finding your swollen clit through the soaked material of your panties. “Pussy’s just beggin’ for attention, ain’t she?”

You bite back a whimper, skin flushed as more heat gathers at your center, knowing he can likely feel it.

He doesn't bother waiting for an actual answer, applying pressure and rubbing over the cloth covered bundle of nerves. But when you only give out a small moan, he stops and barely shifts his touch, rubbing again. Again and again he makes tiny adjustments to the way he teases your clit through the cotton, until he finds just the right spot that makes your entire body jolt in his arms and your hand fly up to clamp over your mouth, muffling a strangled keen.

Grinning against your hair, he applies more pressure there, rubbing in quick, tight circles.

Your head presses back into his shoulder, eyes clenching closed. Hips bucking against his hand and spine arching, your breasts lift into the cool night air. As if that's an invitation, the arm Joel has wrapped around your rib cage shifts and his hand engulfs one heaving tit again, kneading it roughly.

Joel keeps pressing and teasing, making your legs tremble as the pleasure amps up, her empty core clenching.

Then, he stops.

A whine is muffled against your hand and your eyes turn to him desperately, finding a curious look in his eyes as his fingertips just press against your clit without moving.

“When was the last time someone other than you made you cum?” he asks.

Your eyes widen a little and you swallow thickly, desperately trying to focus despite the looming orgasm that now seems to be slipping away.

“Answer me,” he growls softly.

Nibbling your lip, you’re once again glad for the black and white view of the forest at night, hoping it hides some of your blush at your admission. “Y-years…”

A hum comes up in his throat and then his tongue clicks softly in a tsk tsk.

When his fingers remain still for several heartbeats, you can’t help the whimper that comes out of you, or the way your hips rock, seeking more friction.

Joel gives a dark chuckle and then nuzzles near your ear again. “Beg,” he barely breathes out the word. “Beg for what you want.”

Entire body quivering, you falter for a moment, desperately trying to gather a coherent thought.

Is this what your time with him, however long, will really be like? Such a mix? Pain with pleasure? Humiliation and desperate desire? Such a push and pull?

You’ve known the man for all of a few hours and he’s already gotten your panties soaked two times; which is more often than the last guy did in three times as many months.

Fuck, you’re in trouble.

Taking in a shaking breath, you’re barely able to whisper out a plea.

“P-please, Joel… pleeeease make me c-cum,” you gasp out the words. “Please.”

A smirk curves up one side of his lips and mustache as his hand moves again, this time to tug the cotton of your panties aside and slide his calloused fingertips through your wet folds, drawing a mewl past your lips.

“Atta girl,” he rumbles, as two thick digits sink into you.

An obscene sounding mewl is muffled against your hand as you clamp it back over your mouth, head dropping back on Joel’s shoulder.

His reach is deeper than your own ever could be and your hips arch eagerly to meet the intrusion, drawing a low chuckle out of him. Buried inside you, his fingers scissor slightly, making you jolt and whimper. Making your cunt flood with a fresh wave of heat and arousal.

“That’s it, Darlin’... so fuckin’ wet for me,” Joel rumbles into your ear.

Gradually he begins to stroke, drawing his fingers back only to press in deeply again, slow at first but soon picking up speed. He twists his fingers inside you and your knees nearly give out, another yelp barely muffled by your hand.

Some small part of your mind demands you look out towards the camp again, to see if you were heard.

The rest of you ignores that small part.

Your hips rock to meet the thrust of his fingers, your chest rising beneath the kneading of his other hand with every panted breath.

A pleased sounding hum comes up in Joel’s chest and he dips his head to bite at the side of your neck, just below your pulse point, sucking at the tender skin and drawing another needy sound out of you at the pleasure-pain that spears like heat through your body. You have no doubt color blossoms under his lips and teeth, marking you above where the collar of your shirt and jacket will rest. Marking you as his.

His tongue laves over the spot as he twists his fingers again, mid-fucking, and your eyes nearly roll back in your head.

At this point, the only things keeping you on your feet are his arm around your chest and his fingers buried between your legs.

“Listen to that, Sweetheart,” he growls lowly into your ear. “Can ya hear how soaked you are? I wonder if anyone else can hear it yet?”

Your lip pulls between your teeth to bite back another whine and it only takes a moment for you to notice it: the lewd wet noises, barely hindered by your panties and jeans his hand is stuffed into.

A confusing mixture of arousal and shame sends a flush rushing into your skin, up your chest and neck and into your face. Your eyes finally pop open, to look out towards the camp.

No one is moving your way.

Joel gives a cruel chuckle against your hair, his fingers moving faster and the heel of his palm pressing over the throbbing bud of your clit at the same instant, making you writhe in his arms.

“You’re a pretty little thing when you’re embarrassed,” he purrs. “Gonna need to get over that though, Darlin’. Not gonna let you get away with keeping those noises in, most the time.” He nips again at the hickey forming on your neck and you gasp between barely muffled moans. “I’m gonna have you screaming for me. Beggin’. Some days I’ll edge you so many times it’ll hurt… and other days I’ll make you cum so many times it’ll hurt. Some days you’ll love what I do to you…and some days you won’t.”

His words make your head spin just as much as the fingers he fucks into you, or the heel of his palm as it grinds against your tender clit.

“But either way, keep this in mind: your pleasure is mine now. Mine. Mine to give or not. You don’t make you cum. I do. You only cum if and when I say. Understood?”

You’re pretty much too far gone to form words now, panting for air, little pleasured sounds hidden in the palm of your hand. All you can manage is to barely nod.

That’s not good enough.

Joel’s fingers go still and the whine you give is nothing short of pathetic.

“Say it.”

A sob comes up in your throat and you just manage to pull it back, hazy eyes looking at him pleadingly as you croak out a response.

“I c-cum… only when y-you say.”

His fingers are fucking into you again instantly and you give a muffled keen, arching and trembling as his voice growls in your ear.

“Good.... So, cum. Now.”

Your body reacts before your mind can fully catch up. Hips bucking and spine arched, you mewl and moan, pleasure rushing through you, your juices soaking the fingers he still pumps into your fluttering cunt. Eyes clench closed as your hands grasp desperately at his arms, nails digging in. It washes over you in wave after wave, all coherent thought wiped away in its wake, buried beneath pleasure and Joel’s rumbling voice in your ear.

“Goood girl…”

Aftershocks course through your body as you slowly come down, limp in the strong arms that still hold you up. One is wrapped around your ribs beneath your breasts again, with a thumb now idly caressing a tender nipple. The other is still in your pants, but now those thick fingers are just curled over your dripping seam, holding you in a way that would almost be tender in a different circumstance.

“So… successful trip?”

Your eyes fly open and snap forward to find a man standing about fifteen feet away, silhouetted by the distant campfire light, his head canted at you and Joel with a rifle down at his side.

The heat of humiliation rushes back into your cheeks as a squeak escapes you and you fumble to try and close the sides of your jacket around your exposed chest. Try and fail, considering Joel’s arms are still in the way.

You writhe in his hold to get free, but it only tightens and his voice dips into a low growl at your ear so only you can hear the words.

“Stop,” he snaps. “We’re still in the shadows, Darlin’. Doubt he’s seen much… but I’ll be happy to call him over for a closer look, if you don’t stay still.”

You bite back a sob and then clamp your lips shut as you do what you’re told.

Joel’s voice lifts to address the silhouette over your shoulder. “You could say that,” he says with dark amusement in his voice, making you shiver. “Found myself a pretty little plaything that wanted protection. She’s still a bit shy though. Mind givin’ us a few more minutes, Tommy?”

The silhouette tilts his head the other way and seems to think about it for a moment before nodding and turning to head back towards the camp.

“Best make it quick though, Brother, if you ain’t plannin’ to share. I doubt I’m the only one that heard her.”

You would swear your face is on fire. You’re surprised it’s not actually creating light of its own.

You both watch Tommy walk away, leaves crunching under his boots. Once he enters the distant firelight you finally tear your eyes from his back to look over your shoulder at Joel.

You find him watching you, a brow quirked.

“Was that really necessary?” you grumble at him.

He chuckles and, with a teasing stroke over the puffy lips of your sex -which of course makes you whimper despite yourself-, he tugs your panties back into place and pulls his hand from your pants. He wipes some of your slick from his fingers across your stomach, and the rest on the hip of your jeans and the thigh of his own. Then he surprises you by reaching around again to zip and button up your jeans.

“Ain’t my fault you couldn’t keep quiet,” he quips.

You blink at him rapidly and your mouth opens and closes a few times before you hiss back, “Actually, it very much was!”

That draws out another dark chuckle and an unapologetic smirk on his stupidly handsome face.

Rolling your eyes, you tug away and begin righting the rest of your clothing: pulling your bra back into place and buttoning up your shirt.

“Well, you wanted to know what you’re in for, Darlin’.”

He says it so matter-of-factly, still with that shameless smirk, that you can’t help staring at him for a moment. Then you just give a resigned sigh and pretend to focus on closing up your jacket.

Out of the corner of your eye you can’t help noticing the way Joel adjusts the front of his jeans once you look away, before he leans down to scoop up his backpack and put it back on, then holds your backpack out to you.

You take the bag and sling it back onto your shoulders, shoving away a bit of smug satisfaction at knowing he’s a little uncomfortable right now too, at least physically.

The thought makes you pause to wonder how long it’ll be before he decides you need to fix that.

You have no doubt now that offering yourself to Joel is going to prove to be a lot more work than it ever was with Phillip. But, on the bright side, at least Joel seems interested in getting you off some of the time. And he’s definitely better at it than anyone else has been in a very, very long time.

So, despite nagging misgivings, he still seems to be an upgrade.

With a mental shrug, you look up at him again, head canting to one side.

“Any more questions?” he asks with that infuriating smirk still in place.

You respond with a slight glare and a negative shake of your head.

Flashing you another brief, wolfish grin, Joel nods once and turns to follow the path towards the camp that Tommy followed.

For a moment, you hesitate, looking back over your shoulder into the darkness of the woods behind you.

They’re eerie.

Quiet.

Uninviting.

Well, what the hell? A deal’s a deal. Plus…it seems doubtful that you’ll be bored anytime soon.

With one more shrug to yourself, you turn forward again and follow Joel into the camp.

[hkruu]

“CILIAN” — hkr

character introduction ﹕character story !

Character info: His full name is Cilian Colin, born on the August of 23rd. He initially planned on going on another campus until he met you, all of his plans before you arrived were immediately forgotten as he put your needs above his. He's around 5'7, he's popular due to his purity and the way he treats people with gentleness.

Connections: Cilian has a big family, even that he doesn't interact with his cousins often. He think their interests don't clash with his so he simply avoids them during family gatherings and as for his friends . . . He as a lot, but they tend to come for him for advantages and benefits. The only true friends he has are usually the people who hang out at the library, and well, you.

Behavior: From an outsiders perspective, he's the type that you'd immediately become close with, because he's easy to get along with and has many interests that may clash with yours. He's the type to comfort you through all your problems, you can trust him with your secret (unless he does need it for blackmailing you). Cilian is always the soft type around people but when he's all alone, he's quiet. He coops himself up in his dorm room and scroll endlessly online and occasionally write lyrics and random letters.

Backround: Cilian was born into a normal family, not rich nor poor, just in-between. He often admired his parents' love for each other, the way they held each other, the sweet nothings they'd say to each other . . . Cilian wanted that to himself. Cilian was obsessed with the thought of loving someone and being loved, it was something that he greatly wanted, needed to feel.

When his parents took him to a nearby playground, he sat in one of the swings as he watched other children play. Although his mother was pushing the swing a little, he wanted to play with the other children but had no courage to, they were playing tag and he wanted to join in. Not until a kid, who was a little taller than him walked up to him and extended their hand; "Miss, can we play with your son?" the kid asked politely with a big grin.

And well Cilian found himself running around with other children, laughing and sweating like crazy while both of his parents watched in awe. "W-wait don't run there!" one of the kids shouted too late, Cilian found himself on the ground as he tripped on a rock and fell flat faced on the floor. The same kid who offered to play immediately ran up to him, apologizing with tears in their face as they held his hand tightly. "I'm sorry!" they sobbed out "I'll uhm.. make it up to you in the future, I won't let you fall again and I'll... I'll take care of you in the future!"

The kid wasn't probably being serious but Cilian loved the way they held his hand so tightly, he didn't know what to call it but he appreciated it. After that day, he never saw that kid again. In the future he did though, he made sure to write them a precious letter for Valentine's Day.

Interests:

• writing : Cilian initially started writing during highschool where he found his true passion. His first letter was a rejection letter from an admirer, not only that but corrected their letter. Of course the admirer took offense and backed off the moment they opened their letter to be found with corrections all over with Cilian's neat handwriting.

• music : he listens to music while writing letters to deeply involve his feelings into words. His genre consists of kpop, but he listens to anything, his favorite song right now is Lean On Me by SEVENTEEN he also likes The Smith's.

• art : He's not good at it but he can make beginner art, it's mostly because one of his siblings taught him how to draw for a little project.

• fashion : he likes fashion simply because it makes him look good (He also does skincare from time to time).

• stalking : what? He doesn't know how to stalk people, he doesn't know your security number, your favorite smell, what perfume you use, what shampoo you use, your socials, your house address, your whole family lineage, your routine, your way back home, how can you accuse him of such things? Cilian's hands only know how to write sweet letters.

• others : aside from everything mentioned, he's good at anything. He just needs the motivation to improve it, especially in acting. He's smart, he's handsome, he has a great personality, overall he's the ideal type of every girl in campus. Cilian doesn't let that get to his head, he only has eyes for one person and that's you, after all you promised to take care of him in the future.

Overall, he's not a hardcore yandere. He's a soft one, he's not one that get easily jealous because he knows you'll choose him in the end. He's not the type to murder but he won't hesitate to ruin anyone's life, he's not the type to kidnap you because he just knows you won't run away, because you're trapped within his palm like an ant, he'll squish you if he needs to.

\\ had to debate if I wanted to include an nsfw section but uhh I suck at smut maybe in the future sovs //

[codo17]

Stars Aligned

**I was inspired by the solar eclipse. It was my first time and probably last time experiencing it and it was everything! This is my first story so I hope you like it. English is not my first language so please do correct me if there's anything wrong. <3**

-> ~750 word

-> fluff

Today, April 8th, 2024, was destined to be a day etched into the tapestry of your shared history—a moment of cosmic significance that stirred excitement across North America. But for you and Jessie, it wasn't just about witnessing a total solar eclipse; it was about experiencing it together, sharing a bond that transcended mere scientific curiosity.

Since childhood, the mysteries of the cosmos had held you captive. From your early days crafting makeshift telescopes to the late-night stargazing sessions, there was an undeniable pull toward the heavens above. The infinite knowledge contained within trillions of light-years had always filled you with a sense of wonder and awe, making you feel simultaneously insignificant and connected to something greater than yourself.

Of course, you'd always dreamed of finding someone with whom you could share this passion—a kindred spirit who would listen to your ramblings about the Andromeda Galaxy and the Kuiper Belt with genuine interest. Someone who gave you the same heart palpitations and goofy smile that perseids did. And then, Jessie entered your orbit—a radiant burst of light in your universe.

Meeting during your college days at UCLA, she defied engineering student stereotypes with her intelligence, charm, and warmth. There was an instant connection, a gravitational pull drawing you together like celestial bodies in motion. You bonded over shared interests in Tim Horton's, Sidney Crosby, sustainable farming, and football, finding comfort and joy in each other's company.

As your friendship with Jessie blossomed into love, it felt like discovering a new constellation—a beautiful alignment of hearts and minds. Study sessions transformed into late nights spent under the star-studded sky, fingers entwined as you traced the paths of shooting stars, sharing dreams and fears in the quiet darkness.

Seven years had passed since those early days, but the magic between you remained as potent as ever. Jessie's beauty wasn't just in her freckled face or twinkling brown eyes; it was in the way she laughed, the way she listened, the way she made you feel like you were the center of her universe.

As the solar eclipse approached, you couldn't imagine experiencing it with anyone but Jessie. Together, you made plans to witness the celestial spectacle—a rare moment of cosmic harmony that promised to be nothing short of breathtaking.

Standing side by side, the air crackled with anticipation as the moon began its slow dance across the sun's fiery surface. Jessie's hand found yours in the darkness, fingers intertwining as you both watched in awe.

"It's incredible," Jessie whispered, her voice barely audible above the thrum of excitement. You stole a glance at her, struck once again by her beauty and the depth of her gaze.

Your heart swelled with emotion as you watched the eclipse unfold, feeling a sense of wonder and insignificance wash over you. It was as if the universe had paused just for the two of you, a moment of perfect alignment in an otherwise chaotic world.

As the eclipse reached its peak, you turned to Jessie, her face illuminated by the otherworldly glow. "I feel so small but so in sync with the whole Universe at the same time... I don't know how to describe it, it's just uniquely perfect."

Jessie nodded, her eyes reflecting the fading remnants of the eclipse. "It's like we're a tiny part of something so much bigger, yet connected to it in a way that's hard to put into words."

"I think you've said it all," you replied, grateful for her understanding.

As the eclipse waned and the world returned to normal, you felt a surge of love and gratitude for the woman by your side. Cupping her face in your hands, you leaned in to press a tender kiss to her lips, savoring the warmth and sweetness of the moment.

"I love you so much, Jessie," you whispered, your voice filled with emotion.

Jessie's cheeks flushed with emotion as she met your gaze. "I love you too, as big as the whole world, y/n." She wrapped her arms around you, pulling you close in a tight embrace.

And in that moment, as the last traces of the eclipse faded into the sky, you knew that your love for each other was as boundless as the universe itself. With Jessie by your side, you felt ready to face whatever challenges the future might hold, knowing that together, you could weather any storm.

As you both basked in the afterglow of the eclipse, the sky gradually regained its familiar hue, and the world resumed its normal rhythm. But the experience had left an indelible mark on your hearts, strengthening the bond between you in ways words could never fully capture.

[for-ests]

Suffocation: Gojo Satoru x Reader

Suffocation MLIST Summary: Gojo saves you just in time, and in return, you reveal the secret you've never shared with another. You then agree to go on a date with him. Wc: 4,606 Warnings: violence

Terror. All Gojo could hear was terror.

You had gotten into his head, and you were in mortal peril. His blood ran cold, realizing he was correct in his assumptions. He had let you leave against his better judgment, relenting to your insistence.

He would be damned if anything happened to you. The guilt would be too much, and he still didn't understand why. He was drawn to you in a way he’d never known.

Because of that unexplainable reason, all he had to do was feel for you. You were close enough; your emotions were loud enough. Your connection broke through the barriers, and Gojo could follow that tug through the compressed space until he appeared behind the curse that was currently forcing you to your feet by your hair.

Behind you was your flipped car, the back end of it flattened, the airbags spilling out of the shattered windows. You screamed out again and desperately tried to grasp onto the curse’s face, clawing it with all of your force. All you needed was one look in its eyes; you had to if you had any chance of surviving.

And you didn't even know if it would work.

The curse was laughing madly, seeming to enjoy your torment. "Pretty.... I can be pretty...Like human girl?"

Horrified, you thrashed against whatever the misshapen creature in front of you was. You did not know curses could speak; it was far different than any you'd encountered before. It was clawing against your skin, drawing more blood the harder you resisted.

"I-I..." The inhuman voice filled your ears. "I want...skin..."

Hearing those words, watching how it toyed with you, Gojo confirmed that one of Sukuna’s fingers was inside it. The curse probably sniffed you out the second you left campus, as his scent was all over you, and so was the proximity of Sukuna's vessel. If this curse were to kill you, it would follow your trail back to campus.

Legs kicking, you cried out. What angered Gojo the most was that your face was already bloodied, and your clothes were ripped. It touched you in a way that angered every part of him as if it wanted something more than just your power—the filthy thoughts of the demon.

Despite your predicament, you refused to stop fighting. You were almost there, hooking your nails into the flesh of its cheek, forcing its eyes closer to yours. You tried to ignore how its hands inched down your sides, latching onto the hemline of your pants. It was touching you all over, tainting your skin.

“Stop!” You screamed, the discomfort and pain catching up with you. As if finally sensing your motive, its hand clamped down on both your wrists and pulled them off its face. Any hope you had of escaping vanished. There was no way you could fight against six hands.

That was when Gojo stepped in. He knew you hadn’t noticed him yet, and the more cynical part of him wanted to see what you could truly do, but it wasn’t the time. You weren’t strong enough, not experienced enough. Only a second had passed since his arrival, but it felt longer. It made him sick to see you in pain, to see you fearful.

All those strange emotions inside of him bubbled over, and he reached forward to rip the curse’s head off with one swift movement.

It happened so fast that you were reactionless, only able to close your mouth before steaming hot blood was splattered all over you. You hung there, limp in the headless curse’s grip, blinking in confusion. Gasping, you felt the hands slacken around your frame.

And before your feet could even connect with the ground again, Gojo pulled you from the curse’s death grip and into his own arms.

In astonishment, you stared up at Gojo, then buried your face into his chest. It was all you could think about, seeking safety in his touch and presence. One of his hands held your face there, shielding you from the remaining massacre as he exorcized the curse, the body exploding out in all directions.

Hearing the squelching of mishappen flesh, you winced against him.

He protected you from the blowback, not wanting you to get any more dirty than you already were. “It's okay now,” Gojo whispered lowly. “Its gone.”

Setting you down gently, you kept your eyes shut and back turned as you found your footing again. Your heart was still hammering in your chest, the absurdity of it all crashing into you. You almost died, and Gojo had saved you just in time, eliminating a beastly cursed spirit within two movements.

But you couldn’t open your eyes just yet. You didn't want to see it. You could still feel the hands all over you, how helpless you were.

The sorcerer leaned down to pick up the only thing left—Sukuna’s finger. He shoved it into his pocket before you gained the courage to glance over your shoulder.

“T-thank you.” You managed to choke out, hurriedly peeling off your jacket to wipe the blood off your face, only to watch it bubble and steam into thin air, leaving you clean once again.

“I should have never let you leave.” His shoulders were slumped forward in shame, pausing for a moment, head turned away. "Knew this would happen."

You didn't know how to respond. All you could do was stare at the rips in your jacket, the fabrics far beyond saving. You bundled it against your fists.

"It's too dangerous for you," he said.

The sound of glass shards squeaking against concrete made you glance up timidly. Gojo stepped back toward you, closer to you. You could feel his eyes inspecting your entire body.

All you seemed to suffer from was a punch to the face that broke the skin of your cheekbone, with some deeper cuts along your arms and torso. Strange, as he thought your durability would be lower. Maybe, just maybe, you had other abilities that were invisible even to him.

Gojo grasped your chin and beckoned you to look up at him. The look of admiration in your eyes took his breath away as you parted your lips nervously. Why weren’t you afraid of him? Why weren’t you still shaken up from what just happened to you? Were you even in pain?

Safe. That was what you felt in his presence.

“What could possibly be so important in that motel room that you had to leave at this hour?” He asked, brushing his thumb softly along your cheek and wiping away the blood before he could stop himself.

Your expression immediately softened. The contact felt surprisingly peaceful, diminishing the lingering fear and paranoia that still danced in the back of your mind. Gojo's comforting touch alone was enough.

“I can show you,” You whispered with a tinge of seduction, leaning into his touch without realizing it and seeking comfort in his large, calloused hands.

Oh, how badly you wanted to look into his eyes.

Realizing how close he was to your lips, how he’d touched you so tenderly without asking, Gojo dropped his hands away. Your fingers had been inches away from tugging against his bandage. “I see what you’re trying to do.” He smirked.

“I’m not trying to do anything, Gojo.” You pouted, crossing your arms and taking a step back. “I would never do something like that without your permission.”

“Aha!” Gojo pointed at you, grinning as if he’d caught you in a deliberate lie. “So you thought about it?”

Laughing at the absurdity of it all, you threw your hands up. “You caught me.”

Good. You were laughing. And when you stopped, glancing at him with a shake of your head, he watched you smile. A smile that undoubtedly took his breath away. And for a moment, he was speechless.

He noticed that your lips were moving but could not register any words, only allowing himself a split second to fantasize about how they would feel and taste.

Then, the question you asked filled his ears. Why do you hide them?

He shrugged, releasing himself from the haze you seemed to cast over him. “Because I’m powerful.”

“Clearly,” you sighed. A moment passed where you seemed to gather your composure, not just from him, but from the fight you endured before he arrived. It was all too much. It was all too confusing. “Am I allowed to know the reason why?”

Feeling his gaze without seeing it, your heart skipped a beat. You remembered the brush of his finger across your cheek, the warmth of it, the comfort. How he’d come as quickly as he could and saved you. He saved you.

Your cheeks grew hot as Gojo gestured toward the direction of the motel. He began to walk, and you trailed behind him without question. There was no denying how powerful he was. A part of you then promised you would bother him until you learned more and understood every part of him. Even if that required you to share your dark secrets in return.

“My gift allows me to see cursed energy all the time,” Gojo said, glancing down at you as you approached his side. He suddenly revealed your purse, seemingly out of thin air, and outstretched it to you. “Covering my eyes helps relieve that stress.”

When did he grab your purse from your car? Your head shot back to the crushed vehicle now behind the both of you. Mouth parting in confusion, you moved to snatch the purse from him until he held it above his head.

Tsking at you, Gojo instead fastened it around the shoulder farthest from you. “What do you have in this bag, woman? It's heavy as hell.”

All you could do was throw your head back in laughter. “At least get the key out,” you replied, knowing that battling for it back would be futile. It was a kind gesture, after all.

The two of you strolled through the parking lot until you approached the room you’d rented. It was nothing special, definitely run down—but the hot springs had drawn you there. It was too bad you wouldn't be able to bathe in them tonight.

Gojo held the door open for you, flipping the lights on as you entered.

He only saw a backpack on the bed and a dark violet notebook on the bedside table.

“I didn’t think you’d be the type of girl to pack light,” he said, leaning against the door once it clicked shut.

Scoffing, you immediately walked to the table and reached for the notebook. Once you grasped it, your mood shifted into something more sour. “I didn’t think I’d find my brother so quickly and be attacked by a curse today, either.”

Gojo noticed, and for a moment, his confidence diminished. The playfulness that you reciprocated before felt like a guise. Were you really okay? He wouldn't have cared this much for anyone else, but with you—he did. Deeply.

“You’re positive you want to come back with me?” He asked, somewhat apprehensively.

“Clearly, I can’t be alone anymore,” you replied, knowing you sounded snippy as the words flew from your mouth. Even though you had every reason to be, it still made you stiffen. You weren't mad at him; you just felt helpless at the same time. You quite literally stepped into a world you did not know. And he needed to be honest with you. If he was what he claimed to be.

So, you turned to face him. There was nothing particular in your eyes, but your stare was enough to etch a reply.

“There’s nothing else for miles.” Gojo shrugged. "If you need some alone time."

You raised an eyebrow and slung the backpack over one shoulder, tilting your head as you crossed the room toward him. Of course, he would catch your mood shifting; of course, he would see that you were really not okay, that you were scared, that you found it hard to trust. At least he could be thoughtful when he wanted to be.

You looked up at him, opening your mouth to reply until he cut you off.

“Yes I can tell. If I'm around, nothing will attack you."

He was way too cocky, you decided. But for some reason, it didn’t bother you. In fact, the confidence suited him. The way he held himself was most definitely for a reason. And you would play along for distraction or not. If he could protect you in the way he claimed, you would indulge.

“I was actually thinking I would take your bed for the night, and you could sleep on the couch," you declared teasingly as he leaned into you, and you instinctively tilted your head up to meet him, lips inches from each other.

“Nobody sleeps in my bed without me.” Gojo smirked, the tone bordering on a dare.

“Even after everything I’ve been through today?” You bat your eyelashes, holding the notebook against your chest tighter. The door handle was an inch away, and your eyes flickered to it.

Strangely enough, the sorcerer noticed your gaze and the energy billowing from the notebook pressed tightly against your chest. Swiftly and without words, he turned, guiding you until your back was leaning against the door.

“Show me what's in that notebook, Princess.” Gojo set his arm against the door, just above your shoulder. He had trapped you. “And maybe I’ll consider.”

Your tongue nervously glided across your lips. “Get me out of here first-”

Breath stopping short, you felt his arm slide back around your lower waist before you could finish. Flirtatious that time, his hand on your hip was filled with tenderness, curiosity, yet patience. It wasn’t like the last time. There was no teasing behind it. Instead, he waited for your reaction to affirm he was correct in his assumptions, to see if you felt that other-worldly pull.

Through your eyelashes, you glanced at him timidly but curled both your arms under his, holding on tight. He better not drop you.

“Your wish is my command,” Gojo hummed, his grip tightening when he moved you as close to him as possible. The contact triggered the enchantment you refused to feel earlier, those uncategorized feelings that felt foreign and undeserved. An acknowledgment of your attraction, the desire for something more.

Voice catching in your throat, you couldn’t muster a reply before the ground disappeared from your feet.

What you witnessed in that split second was something you would never be able to explain. It was limitless power in its purest, rawest form. Lights and stars, neverending peace and tranquility. Across space and time, flashes of unnamed organisms. The essence of life itself was viable, but only for a moment.

It was all ripped away before your eyes could even comprehend what colors flashed before you.

Blinking, still pressed against him, you found yourself in a surprisingly well-furnished apartment.

“Wow," you blurted, eyes immediately finding a Star Wars poster framed above a leather couch. There was more, but your vision was hazy. “I wasn’t expecting this.”

And then it hit you, the nausea, the prickling of skin, the beauty of what you’d experienced. Words were unavailable to you at that moment. Your mind was racing, and your heart was still pounding.

Peering up at him with wide, sparkling eyes, you remembered just how close you were to him, how safe you felt in his arms, how comfortable it was to feel his hands around your hips. “What in the absolute fuck was that?” You breathed, gathering what you'd seen faster than anyone else who had witnessed his domain.

He chuckled, letting his arms fall away, giving you your space. Gojo scanned your body language and debated if he should teleport a trashcan before you.

“I’m fine,” you chuckled light-heartedly, letting the backpack slide off your shoulders.

Could you read his mind? It seemed so with how witty you were. No woman had ever been able to deal with his bashful humor, let alone read his body language so well.

“I’m not trying to tease you any more,” Gojo reassured. “If you need to sleep I won’t stop you.”

“No.” You rolled your eyes, snatching your purse off his shoulder. “I’m showing you not matter what.”

After rummaging through your purse, you pulled out an unusually outdated item. You held the quill to him, which seemed to have never been dipped in ink.

“Ink?” Gojo looked at you.

“Nope.” You popped your lips, finding the nearest surface which happened to be the island in his kitchen. A moment passed as Gojo watched you set the notebook down and the quill next to it. The way you moved was somehow delicate and thoughtful, yet he knew there were layers about you, layers he was desperate to peel back.

God, you were beautiful. Like the brightest star in the galaxy, seemingly so close but so far away—almost unattainable. As if it would take a lifetime to understand your intricacies.

You opened the notebook to the most recent entry. Immediately, Gojo saw the cursed energy woven into the pages. There were symbols and words, poetry and art.

Despite your previous confidence, you were now timid as you brandished your secrets, still debating if you should trust him even if it was too late. “I don’t even remember writing any of these. I sort of black out when it happens. I keep the quill on me at all times, just in case.”

“Why?” He asked, standing behind you, peaking over your shoulder with intrigue. He had his guesses, but there were times when even his extensive training and knowledge couldn’t identify or explain what was displayed in front of him.

Still unable to see if he was looking at your work, you rambled on nervously. “It never works with any other utensil. And if I don't write it out in time, I glitch in and out of consciousness until I do.”

Gojo was enraptured with your talent. Prophecy was rare enough in itself. But what stopped him short was how intricate it was. Somehow, your cursed energy was utterly mesmerizing. You were an artist, and you didn’t even know it. He hadn’t even processed what had been written yet.

“Months ago, I refused to write until I seized. When I woke up, 2 days had passed, and I wrote complete gibberish that filled the four notebooks I had in my house. And then I scribbled symbols onto the wall of my apartment,” you paused. "I was never able to figure out what it all meant."

Nodding his head, Gojo set both hands on the table, his pinky finger brushing against yours. “Do you remember what day exactly?”

“September 7th.” You looked at him hesitantly, on the verge of blushing.

That was the same day Yuji swallowed Sukuna’s first finger.

Pulling your hand away, you pushed the notebook to him and flipped the page. “I wrote this two days ago.”

The page would be blank to the average eye, but perfectly etched lines were visible for any jujutsu user. Other-worldly penmanship graced Gojo's eyes.

The goddess of the stars foretells serenity born from destruction

Reuniting a pair of powerful siblings, descendants of demonic plight

The white-haired emissary will reach fruition after trading souls

And when the moment comes that the sky turns a different blue,

The seer will reach infinity, guiding the new generation into victory.

Your finger smushed against the invisible ink. “That’s definitely about you.”

“Have any of these ever come true?” Gojo raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

You nodded confidently. “Every single one of them. But they don’t come often.”

A moment passed before he threw his head back and laughed, genuinely taken aback. “You continue to surprise me.”

“So, do I get the bed?”

The sorcerer closed the gap between you, the expression on his half-hidden face enough for you to understand that he was truthful with his words. It made you wonder how easily you could read him by looking into his eyes. You fantasized about their color, how they would widen or squint, how they would soften when he looked at you.

Deep inside your soul, you could feel they were doing that. You desperately wanted to explore that curiosity, once again leaning closer, waiting for him to take your lips.

“Maybe I want mo-”

Before Gojo could finish, the front door shot open, revealing a frantic Yuji. His phone was gripped tightly in his hand, flashing your text.

“Are you okay, Y/N!?” Yuji bellowed, rigid and ready to fight.

“Y-yeah?” You stuttered, immediately backing away from Gojo, trying to ignore how enticed you had been, how close you were, and what almost happened.

No. It was nothing. Nothing was going to happen.

Yuji blinked, glancing between the stances of his teacher and supposed older sister. “You literally only texted me help!” He shoved the screen in your face. “And you didn't think to let me know you were alright?”

Weird. You glimpsed the messages with no recognition, but the contact was visible, your phone number apparent. “I’m sorry Yuji.” You frowned, face contorting more than that, guilt and shame, regret. Of course, you would be that careless. And it did not reflect well on you if your main goal was to try and befriend your biological brother.

“I picked her up, no worries Yuji,” Gojo chided nonchalantly, stepping between Itadori and you. “I just brought her back a few minutes ago.”

“What happened?” He dropped his hands to his side.

“I was attacked by a cursed spirit…” You trailed off, trying to find a way to explain it all without sounding like you almost died. “My car is totaled.”

“WHAT?” Yuji yelled, mouth dropping open. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine!’ You threw your hands up with a forced smile, letting out a nervous giggle. You pointed to the cut on your face. “Seriously, it’s okay. Just a few scratches. Plus, I’ll be staying here for a bit longer.”

Your younger brother studied your face before grasping your arms, holding them above his head, and inspecting. Just a few scratches, as you claimed.

“Why did you let her leave if you were suspicious?” Yuji turned to Gojo and questioned on your behalf. “She could have died!”

“I left on my own, Yuji,” you said. “He tried to make me stay.”

Gojo glanced between the two of you. He stopped on Yuji and saw how furious he was, and it made him feel incredibly guilty, knowing he had messed up. The fact it was with you made it harder to deflect.

And clearly, you were flustered and confused, not just because he was pursuing you but because your brother had caught you both red-handed. Not that anything was going on, of course. But still, Gojo felt strange, in the middle of two siblings, knowing more about the other than they knew about each other.

Both were powerful in their own ways without realizing their potential.

“How can I make it up to you?” Gojo asked calmly, turning to look at you. His heart panged the most when he caught your frustrated gaze. He would do anything to make it right and couldn’t fathom why. There was no logical reason for it, spiritual or not. “Yuji is right. I should have made you stay in the first place.”

Yuji’s mouth hung open. It barely took any convincing. There was no playfulness in Gojo’s tone either; he was earnest, and there were no excuses. That was rare from Gojo, and it was the first hint that something else was going on between his sister and his teacher.

A rare, almost impossible, and unique bond that he and others wouldn’t be able to understand. And because of that, Yuji couldn't think of anything to say. All he could do was watch.

You noticed the shock on Yuji’s face, etched in his expression. “Why don’t you show me around the campus tomorrow?” You responded to the white-haired sorcerer, glancing between him and Yuji for their reactions.

“I know you want more than that,” Gojo laughed, elongating his words in a soothing tone.

“Take me out for some drinks then,” you dared. “See if you can outdrink me.”

He agreed almost instantly. “Prepared to lose?”

Yuji blinked, finally butting in. “What is happening?”

“Nothing!" You blurted, almost stumbling on your words before you caught yourself. “Gojo owes me some drinks tomorrow, and I will hold him to it.” You smiled at Yuji, so genuinely and so heartfeltly that Gojo started smiling in return.

“Alright then…” Yuji surveyed you and Gojo, still trying to configure if he was making more of the situation. But he knew he’d seen you too close to his teacher. And the smile on Gojo’s face… was astonishing. His careful gaze turned into a glare as he looked at Gojo. Even if he had just figured out you were his sister, he would protect you with everything he was. After all, you were the only family he had left. “Don’t hurt her.”

“I’ll keep her safe,” Gojo replied nonchalantly. “We will see you in the morning, yeah?”

The dismissal was taken with grace and understanding.

“Of course Sensi!” Yuji rushed with a bow, abruptly turning on his heels. “Goodnight Y/N!” he added.

“Goodnight Yuji.” You covered your mouth to stifle a laugh.

Silence stretched longer than necessary after Yuji had left the makeshift apartment. Neither of you could think about what to say after that conversation. A stern yet laughable scolding from your younger brother.

Once you were certain Yuji was out of earshot, you glanced at Gojo. “Thank you for protecting Yuji when I couldn’t.”

“Go crash in my bed,” he chuckled, accepting your praise with a bashful over-stretch of his arms. “I don’t go back on my word.”

“Are you sure?” You squeaked.

He nodded. “There’s a shirt and shorts on the bed for you already.”

Your cheeks felt hot at the insinuation that he already prepared for your company.

“I’ll buy you whatever you need tomorrow.” Gojo winked.

Beginning to walk to the bedroom, you stopped under the doorframe. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me!” He laughed, kicking his shoes off and sinking into the couch. “You’re the one that’s going to have a huge car insurance bill to pay.”

“I take it back!’ You rolled your eyes, acting as if you were going to slam the door behind you but letting it click shut quietly.

“Goodnight Y/N!” You heard his muffled voice before noticing the lights outside shut off.

Like he said, there was an outfit laid out for you. And your backpack was somehow leaning up against the bedframe. You tried to keep your eyes from scanning the rest of the bedroom, deciding it would be something to occupy your mind tomorrow. You had been through enough today, enough to understand that your life would never be the same.

Stripping down and throwing on the shirt, you quickly got comfortable and snuggled into the sheets, surprised at how much they resembled him and smelt like him. You didn't know Gojo; he was still a stranger, yet the unexplainable affirmed differently. How much longer could you deny it? The proof was right before you, and it was clear when you glimpsed him.

Gojo Saturo was someone special, and you wished you had more self-control. Maybe too much time had passed since you’d even had a crush, let alone given in to the urge for physical pleasure.

Much to your dismay, you fell asleep with a smile on your lips, wondering if Gojo was comfortable, what it would feel like to be in his arms, all the while speculating what tomorrow had in store for you. 

[thoughtfulchaos773]

Look Chris Storer- you have the perfect plot set up- don't mess it up.

I talked to @currymanganese, but I got a little theory and a wish that Carmy and Syd, the two stunted individuals with almost perfect hangouts- skip a coffee date and go straight to Noma together. (I know irl it's closed, but this is a show)

Consider this: the ultimate gesture of apology for Sydney. This is a time we see Carmy at peace during the 3x09 montage with the song Blowing Kisses. Sydney is doubtful but still invested in the partnership, while Carmy is restless as he flips through books and drawings, seeking inspiration. The last time we see him inspired is at Noma. Maybe telling us that's a key part in his development and it's how he can mend his relationship with Sydney.

Not sure how they'll get there but What if there's a group trip to Copenhagen?

And it unfortunately includes the Faks.

where the Faks come in- Neil fak tells Carmy this in 3x03 Doors:

You'd love a surprise

Now correct me if I'm wrong - wasn't molly spotted in Copenhagen? What if the faks surprise carmy with claire, and Carmy already predicted himself that he hates surprises.

Claire's connection to Copenhagen:

Cliche but fun! This would be the pivotal point for Syd and Carmy's relationship as they bond, become inspired, and develop their relationship. It's also a moment for Carmy to have agency over his own life and start a new chapter. This can be done in a full sitcom style where chaos ensues but also includes heartfelt moments. A little conflict with Claire being there - they already compare syd and claire and make a dig at romcoms. They might as well go all the way with this on-off episode of a group Vacation Trope seen in comedies.

Might be cheesy but The Bear is a love story after all!

[elgar-nyan]

Misc. Evanuris Headcanons

including stone magic, Elgar'nan and Solas's rivalry, and additional soulmate headcanon involving Mythal.

The Evanuris can use stone magic thanks to Titan Blood

Solas could turn people to stone. I HC that this is a gift purely due to the lyrium that has made up his flesh and blood body. That this ability could extend to others in the Evanuris, not that they used it much.

The First of the Firstborn got the idea of making himself a body from the children of the stone

He witnessed the children of the stone being born from the lyrium and sensed its powerful magical properties. He crafted himself a body even after some time studying what a body should look like. The Lyrium had memory of how to form one so it made things easier for the ancient spirits. The other Evanuris followed suit. The Children of the Stone being born didn't take a lot of Lyrium, but crafting a body that could house powerful primordial spirits without impairing/debuffing themselves took a lot more than a titan's child normally would.

No one knew the titans were still alive (initially)

The Spirits came after the titans shaped the land, and only after the children of the stone began having feelings and developing concepts. When the first of the Evanuris made their bodies, they did not yet understand what they were doing. But once they understood, they were petty about it and continued—likely a specific someone was incensed over Wisdom being all high and mighty about knowing things and sounding so damn smug all the time.

Elgar'nan detests Wisdom personally

Wisdom doesn't know more than Elgar'nan does, but he thinks he does. He is the embodiment of the concept of Wisdom, not because he possesses all the Wisdom in the world, but you'd think by talking to him that he was more knowledgeable than Elgar'nan who was witness to things Wisdom was never even present for (though he claims to be as old as Elgar'nan.) Elgar'nan was properly irate over this young idiot getting the time of day, and angrier when Wisdom had been proven to be correct. If Wisdom wasn't so damn smug all the time they might have gotten along. But no. His dislike of Wisdom evolved into a deep personal offense whenever someone believes him over Elgar'nan's word, or asks Wisdom if Elgar'nan is right or not. No one got under Elgar'nan's skin faster than Wisdom did. They ended up warping one another.

The first naturally born elves were not immortal

They were the result of procreation with humans and started having naturally decreasing life spans due to this, not because of the Veil. The timing of his notice of it was consequential at best and is an example of Solas/Wisdom drawing the wrong conclusions through the "wisdom" of the people (though Elgar'nan didn't know this either being that he was locked away by the time this revelation was being made. How unfortunate for him.) Had Solas succeeded in his ritual, he would have found out that he had washed the world with very confused and upset spirits and opportunistic malign spirits for nothing. On that, however, the veil being put in place made it so the spirit-kin/hybrids were severed from their natural connection to the Fade—which resulted in elves being unable to produce elven offspring with no one else but another elf.

Dirthamen was secretly aiding the Dread Wolf

So secret that Solas had no idea he was even on his side. Elgar'nan was so mad when he found out Dirthamen was aiding the Dread Wolf that it was Dirthamen's spirit kin that Elgar'nan wiped from existence (erasing the emotion Dirthamen and Falon'din came from) before killing Dirthamen so he could not reform in the ether (since the emotion that made him was now gone.) Solas never found out, either. He only knew about the emotion Elgar'nan had wiped out like a few others before.

Everything Elgar'nan did was for protection

It ended up getting warped as he didn't feel he'd be strong enough and started obsessively seeking more power and more control, but he was very aware and very afraid of the green-yellow storm that was threatening everything and drinking the sky. He tried to keep everyone in the dark about it, not wanting anyone to panic over it or find out Elgar'nan was afraid of something. When Ghilain'nain talked to him about it, he encouraged focus on the present, not what's coming.

Soulmates list

If you're interested in my HC regarding Soulmates [here]

Andruil and Ghilan'nain // Solas and Inquisitor Lavellan // Mythal and Dirthamen (secret) // Sylaise and June // Elgar'nan and Rook

Small note: Soulmates is less specifically romantic and more about feeling close to someone. Like you can be your true self. The real world equivalent would be a best friend you'd had all your life. Not everyone is romantically involved with their soulmate. That being said, though, those who I listed above end up romantically involved with theirs.

[alwayslurkinginthebackground]

Glasses - A Raindro Drabble

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Santiago Garcia x reader Rating: Just G for General Fluff here! Word Count: 725 a/n: I've had this thought kind of stuck in my head since the picture of Oscar and Pedro dropped, and then Joel Miller wore glasses, and then this happened for Raindro Blue. Enjoy this bit of FishPope and honestly be ready bc I feel these two in my bones so I'm sure they'll be back soon.

"I just don't think I need them," Frankie complains for what must be the thousandth time, his hands rubbing at his eyes. You're sitting across from him at the table, but your gaze meets Santi's from where he's leaning against the counter.

It had been a struggle to get even to this point, glasses in hand but not yet perched on the bridge of his nose. He's been insistent that he didn't need them, fighting until the last minute when his superiors insisted that if he ever wanted to fly again, it was going to be after the addition of correctional lenses, but you understand why it's hard. Santi does, too.

It's just another reminder that he's getting older when someone else isn't.

You tried to tell him that it wasn't. After all, you got your glasses when you were just a kid, so it wasn't like it actually had anything to do with how old he is, but that wasn't really the root of the problem and you all knew it. Santi had done his best to point out that he could just get contacts instead, but that hadn't helped either. If anything, it made the situation worse.

"Frankie, please," you whisper, voice straining. "The doctor wouldn't prescribe something you don't need and plus," you point out, leaning your head on your hand, "you asked me to turn the volume up on the TV last week because you couldn't read the captions."

It was meant to be funny, but he doesn't laugh, his eyes still closed, and another glance at Santi tells you that perhaps this time it isn't your battle to fight. It was like that, sometimes, with any of the four who returned largely unscathed from Columbia, but especially between Santi and Frankie. An invisible connection that had bonded them in ways you'd never really be able to understand.

There's the scrape of a chair as the younger man sits, his hands immediately reaching for Frankie's. He tucks them neatly between his, so much like the way Frankie holds yours that you wonder if that's where he picked it up. "Fish, you know..." Santi starts, but he's quickly cut off.

"I'm not wearing them," he insists, pulling away abruptly. He moves to the living room, his glasses abandoned on the table.

You let Santi go first, massaging your temple before you follow. Frankie's already on the couch, his head in his hands, and his friend moves toward him immediately. You, however, step in a different direction, your feet carrying you toward the stairs. There's a part of you that wants to give them privacy, but there's also the tether that binds you to him, the one that has you concerned enough this time that you want to keep your gaze on him. The same worry that you've felt so many times throughout your relationship and one so similar to a feeling you know Santiago shares. It's enough for you to compromise, settling yourself on the steps with your arms wrapped around your knees as you watch.

"Francisco," Santi whispers as he sits beside him, "listen to me. We can't just stop living because he's gone."

Your boyfriend doesn't say anything, but you know he's listening by the way his head droops just a bit further down, his palms pressed against his eyes. You want more than anything to hold him right now, to wipe away the tears that are likely threatening to fall, but then you see Santi move again, his hands firm on Frankie's shoulders as he draws him into his arms.

It's slow and it's intentional, the way Santi settles against Frankie's head, pressing a kiss to his forehead as your boyfriend presses against his chest. He curls into him until there's barely a breath between their bodies, and your heart flutters at the sight because it's beautiful, really, the way they cling to one another.

You mentally take a picture before quietly finding your way upstairs, your soul suddenly settled with the knowledge that he's okay. That Santiago will take care of him the way he always has.

And when Frankie appears in the kitchen the next morning with his glasses on, it's all you can do to press a kiss to his cheek and send a text to Santiago.

Thank you.

His response comes instantly.

For him, always.