#esha answers your questions

[theshinazugawaslut]

Sanemi has an incredibly sensitive cock.

The first time he ever inches himself inside you, he's an incoherent mess.

It's cute, really, for such a tough guy fucking you like a mad man, he overstimulates himself almost immediately.

Every single damn time.

He has no shame either, panting and moaning and whining in your ear as he keeps you in missionary. His palm pressing down low on your stomach, his finger on your clit; his other hand desperately grasping your wrist.

He makes the most debauched sounds, his faces aren't any better — eyes rolling back, jaw slack and drooling, tears rolling down his face as he fucks the prettiest pussy.

[theshinazugawaslut]

YOURS IS SO GORGEOUS ANCA !!! I LOVE IT SM

Mine came out unexpectedly kinda cute <3

Tagging: @who-can-touch-my-boob @sluttysanemi @andysdrafts

𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑢𝑙𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑠𝑖𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑒: 𝑔𝑜 𝑡𝑜 𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑡, 𝑠𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑐ℎ "𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑒 + 𝑐𝑜𝑟𝑒," 𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑠𝑖𝑥 𝑝𝑖𝑐𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒𝑠. 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑡𝑎𝑔 𝑠𝑖𝑥 𝑝𝑒𝑜𝑝𝑙𝑒.

Athena-core was fun to search 😍

I tag @newbornwhumperfly @grizzlie70 @butwhatifyouwrite @sapphoslibrary @wildfaewhump @deluxewhump

[pencil-n-pen]

I WANT AN INNOCENT LOVE

.☘︎ ݁˖

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alexandria! rick grimes x fawn! fem! reader

masterlist | kofi

summary: you’re a new addition to alexandria. Rick’s just looking out for his group. That’s the only reason he finds himself drawn to you. Nothing else.

cw: LEGAL age gap (it is big, i imagine reader in her early 20s) canon typical depictions of violence, Rick is kinda mean to reader at first, Rick kind of struggles with the age gap a little, dom! Rick, slight possessive rick

tags/tropes: shy and skittish reader, she’s not used to dealing with people but she’s not helpless, honestly she’s just a sweet and soft person who became what everyone becomes in the apocalypse, hurt/comfort, insecurity, touch-starved reader a bit, YEARNING, no saviors or whisperers just Rick and everyone living happily in alexandria. Daryl is also here and he’s kind of like ur uncle bc i love daryl and i say so

a/n: i have nothing to say other than this is so insanely self indulgent it’s not even funny. nobody asked for this but writing it has kept me sane while i’m couch ridden. everything is terrible rn but rick grimes <3333

songs i listened to while writing: We'll Never Have Sex by Leith Ross, Work Song by Hozier (Rick's theme song) you were mine by Esha Tewari, Do I Wanna Know- Hozier's Cover, Somethin' Stupid by Nancy & Frank Cinatra, Lover, You Should've Come Over by Jeff Buckley (i'm so not normal about that entire album) Under Your Spell by Snow Strippers, Little Bit by Lykke Li (the original not the remix)

title taken from Under Your Spell by Snow Strippers

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₊ ⊹❀

You were just a little thing when you showed up at the gates.

All wide-eyed and skittish at the tree-line, clothes hanging awkwardly off your frame. Scuffed and dirty, when Rick goes up to the tower to scout you out.

You don’t quite come close enough for anyone to get any kind of information on you. Name, age, where you’ve been, what you’re doing at the gates.

These are all questions Rick, as leader, needs answers to.

If he could just convince you to get close enough.

Under different circumstances, he’d just let you do whatever it is you’re planning on doing, but the lurking is starting to make people uneasy. And he figured he ought to do something to ease their concerns. Easiest way is to either get you inside the walls or find answers to those questions.

You’re real good at staying out of reach, though. And you never stay in one place for long. By the time two weeks have gone by, you’ve made it around the entire length of the walls. Just to end up right where you started: the gates.

It’s just past the crack of dawn- dew is still lingering on the plants and grass and the sun’s rays have yet to actually provide warmth. Rick is up, making his rounds and checking in when one of the guards on rotation lets him know that you’re at the gates. Only time you’ve ever been that close.

So they’re opened, and you amble in— light-footed and unsure. Honestly, you remind him a bit of Daryl with your obvious hesitance to be in the company of other people and clear inclination towards nature. But where Daryl is hard edges and reclusiveness, you’re… softer.

A small group of people —curious onlookers, mostly— forms behind Rick as he saunters towards you, and he watches the moment you see the reality of your decision and begin to regret it.

He comes to a stop a few feet away from you, letting the silence hang in the air for a bit.

He finally takes you in with his own two eyes, without the aid of the binoculars, and he examines. Catalogs the nervous twitch of your hands and scuffs and scrapes he can see on the visible scraps of skin. Eyes the way you worry your lip between your teeth and can’t decide if you’re going to keep staring at him or look away- your mind clearly torn between vigilance and submission.

“You finish your tour of Alexandria?” He asks dryly.

You blink up at him, eyes wide. “Are you the leader of this safe-zone?”

He nods. “Sure am.”

You begin fiddling with your fingers absentmindedly. The small motion draws his attention back to your hands, where me notices bandaids practically covering the entire surface of your skin. He files the information away in his head for later.

“Are you currently accepting new members?”

He can’t help but crack a smile at your question. The way you phrase it and your nervous demeanor remind him so much of the times before the dead started walking— you look like a college student looking for a job, not somebody trying to find refuge here, after the end of the world.

“Depends,” He rests his hands on his hips, and he notes the way your eyes dart to the gun at his side before back up to him, “You got any skills to offer? You alone? Or do you got a group waitin’ for you?”

Your lip is raw from where you release it from your teeth.

“I’m really good at mending. I’m a proficient hunter. I can hold my own in a fight. And I’m alone.”

At the admittance of your lack of company, you shift back a few steps, a subtle re-distribution of weight.

Ain’t been socialized a whole bunch, Rick thinks to himself. He’s willing to bet you either don’t have a lot of positive experiences with large groups of people or you just plain ain’t been around em’ much.

He hums. “You killed anybody?”

“Walkers or live?”

“Either.”

You shift your shoulders. He’s starting to wonder just how many nervous actions you have.

“I don’t think anybody lives alone who hasn’t killed walkers.”

“And the living?”

You don’t move, but your eyes look to the ground, not at him.

Shame. Fear.

“Twice.”

“How come?”

“They wanted my supplies. Wanted me dead. I decided I didn’t want to die.”

He looks you over again. You really are a cute little thing. He thinks, absentmindedly in the back of his head, that something like you shouldn’t have bloody, bandaid covered hands. Shouldn’t have a kill count.

But he dismisses the thought. The end of the world leaves no room for those unwilling to do what’s necessary.

He dips his head. “We’ll get you settled in,” He jerks his head to the some of the guys behind him. “They’ll get you sorted out. Get along, now.”

You slink past him, distance carefully measured as you go.

Your eyes don’t quite leave him, though. There’s a moment- either you pause or his mind slows. Maybe a bit of both. But the air stills, and your gaze locks on him for the first time since he saw you, nestled in that tree line. The memory is clear and vivid- the sun shining through the trees, dappling you in shades of amber and grey. And then he’s here, and you’re looking up at him, eyelashes fluttering, and the sun has risen just enough that it casts a similar glow, the only difference now he can see up close just how the light catches on your face, just how he knows your features would look so different, so much softer if you were cleaned, if someone minded the cuts and scrapes.

And then you step away, and he snaps out of his reverie. He blinks a few times at your retreating form, shakes his head, and then busy’s himself with other work. There’s always something to be done.

But no matter how hard he tries, he can’t get the image of you gazing up at him, bathed in the early morning sun out of his mind.

—

A few days pass, and Rick sees little of you. He’s almost positive it’s on purpose. The few times he does see you, you look scared. And then, generally, you manage to make some sort of fleet-footed escape. The repeated spotting and fleeing reminds him of the time he accompanied Daryl on a hunt and startled a doe.

He can’t quite figure out why you’re afraid of him, though. He remembers being fairly decent to you when you arrived, and tried coaxing you towards the gates politely before you’d shown up on your own.

The sight of your scared expression ends up stuck fast in his head, usually super-imposed over the image of you on that morning at the gates. Two different versions of you, neither making any sort of sense.

He decides that it’s probably best that he stick away, if he scares you. You’ll settle, your ruffled feathers’ll smooth.

And he’ll stop thinking about you.

—

Neither do you settle or does he stop thinking about you.

He watches you from a distance, careful. You just… don’t relax. Ever. You creep away from every possible opportunity to connect with others like it might grow jaws and bite- you shrink back or freeze. Like you think if you play dead, if you don’t move, they’ll leave you alone.

He’s wondering what you hoped to accomplish by seeking refuge in Alexandria if this is how you act. You’re going to have a bad go of things if this is your plan. Or maybe you plain haven’t even thought that far.

He snags Daryl’s arm as he passes by.

“Wha—“

“The new girl,” Is all Rick says, still watching you remarkably avoid everyone who passes you. “She’s real skittish.”

Daryl follows his eyeline, finding you easy enough.

“Mm. She ain’t settlin’?”

“No.”

Daryl just hums again. “Well, she ain’t got nobody, does she?”

“So?”

The hunter shrugs. “Can’t relax. Ain’t got nobody to watch her back, take a watch. She’ll settle. Might take her a bit of time.”

Rick huffs. “She’s afraid of me.”

“No she ain’t,” Daryl snorts, “And since when does Rick Grimes care whether other people like him well enough?”

Rick doesn’t respond, just keeps watching you.

Daryl follows Rick’s gaze, then breathes out a low sigh.

“She is a pretty little thing, ain’t she?”

“That is not what this is about.”

Daryl levels him with a look. “Sure it’s not.“

“She’s half my age. I could damn well be her father.”

“But ya ain’t.”

“That isn’t the point.”

“Then what is the point, Rick?” Daryl sighs again, crossing his arms. “Either do something about it or move on. You got too many people dependin’ on ya for you to be eyeing up flighty young girls.”

Rick rolls his shoulders. “You make me out to be such a creep.”

The other man claps him on the shoulder. “Then stop acting like one.”

He attempts to take Daryl’s advice to heart. It’s an annoying truth that Daryl always knows exactly what Rick needs to hear. Not necessarily what he wants to hear, but what needs to be said.

And he is being creepy. He shakes his head as he walks away. Watching you, thinking about you. He can’t. That’s— you’re too young to be thinking any kind of thing like that.

No matter how there’s this half second, before you look scared, where you almost look relieved. No matter how he wants to personally take care of the bumps and scrapes on your face, wants to take off the bandaids and examine what’s beneath them.

Daryl was right. He needs to focus. Carl, Judith, everyone- they need him.

You’ll be fine. He’ll be fine.

—

You’ve gone missing.

Rick has been doing his best to heed Daryl’s advice— he stopped looking for you in the crowds, stopped trying to figure you out, stopped watching you from afar. He even made a fairly decent attempt to stop thinking about you. Not that the effort proves especially fruitful, but he tried, damnit.

All of those efforts go straight out the window when Daryl tells him that no one’s seen you since yesterday.

It takes him two seconds to grab his gun and follow Daryl out the door.

He barely remembers to tell Carl where he’s going, which scares him, because he doesn’t quite understand what’s been so invasive to his mind and day-to-day activities about you. Your eyes, the soft curve of your cheek, how you might feel in his hands.

They cloud his judgment. Make him do stupid reckless things like search Alexandria high and low for any sign of you.

He doesn’t find any. He searches the place you’re staying— nothing. Only sign of life is the unmade bed and bandaid wrappers in the trashcan by the bed.

He sighs deep and low as he stands over your bed. “Think she had enough? High-tailed it?”

Daryl leans against the doorway. “Nah. She likes it here well enough. She ain’t stupid enough to leave a good thing like this.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You’ve spoken to her?”

Daryl shrugs. “Few times. She don’t like talkin’ too much, but I think she figures her and I similar.”

“She wrong?”

He scratches his beard. “A little. She fears situations and people the way a prey animal does. S’ why she’s a runner.”

Rick mulls Daryl’s words over as they scan the rest of the place but, of course, find nothing. There are no signs that you, specifically, live here. Nothing personal. Just the unmade bed and the bandaid wrappers in the trashcan.

The pair of them turn the entirety of Alexandria over in a matter of hours. He’s just about to call it quits, either wait for you to come back or send out a search in the morning when Daryl comes back over, telling him you’re at the gates.

As in, outside of them.

Opposite of how things went when you first showed up at the gates, people clear a path as he stalks towards you. They give the pair of you a nice, wide bubble. Even Daryl stays a few feet behind him.

The first thing he notices is that you’re covered in blood. From the way you’re holding yourself, most of it isn’t your own. There’s a backpack slung over your shoulder, but it’s not your usual one.

You won’t meet his eyes.

He stops an arms length away from you. “Where the hell were you?”

You shift backwards, away from him ever so slightly. “Scavenging.”

“Mhm, interestin’,” He says, rubbing his jaw, “Because the last scavenging party was yesterday. And you came back with everybody, so I’ll ask again. Where were you.”

Your eyes flick up from the ground for a moment, eying the people that have gathered to stare. He watches you mentally count them all, then attempt to put more distance between yourself and everybody else. Emphasis on attempt, because the second you take a step back, you stumble, wincing before righting yourself and going right back to scanning the crowd.

He works his jaw, anger and annoyance simmering just under the surface of his skin. He’s not going to get anything out of you here.

He grabs your wrist and turns, set in the direction of the medics.

He drags you along behind him, ignoring the little huffs or sharp intakes of pain when you walk a little too hard or too fast on your bad ankle.

You trip a few times as you go, and when you almost take Rick down with you, he sighs, pausing and turning.

The expression you give him is full of fear. He realizes, in the moment, that you might not remember where the medics are, so as far as you know, he’s angry at you and dragging you to a secluded area.

Guilt strikes him hard and fast, right in his chest.

Damn.

It’s too early to feel guilty about the random girl he allowed into Alexandria. Frightened eyes and shy nature aside.

He shakes his head once. “We’re going to see a doctor. Here, put your arm around me.”

He has to lower himself a little for you to drape your arm across the back of his neck. Your fingertips brush his shoulder, and he can feel the way you’re shaking.

It’s slow going from then on, with Rick acting as your crutches.

“Where were you? And don’t bullshit me.”

“Scavenging.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes,” You nudge the backpack still strapped to your back. “I was… looking for something. I can’t look for it with the others.”

“What the hell is it that you can’t look for it with the others?”

“A body.”

Your response hangs in the air, thick and heavy.

“…Family or friend?”

“Friend. Haven’t found her yet.”

Something clicks into place in his mental file about you. He feels like he just gained a new piece of the puzzle.

He readjusts your weight over his shoulder, tucking you a little closer and steadfastly pretending he doesn’t hear the little gasp you let out at the contact. Whether it was from pain or surprise, he can’t let himself think about it.

“Don’t go out by yourself. If you need to look, take Daryl with you.”

You sag a bit into him. “Okay.”

He glances down at you from the corner of his eye. You’re… pliant. You’d agreed quickly, and showed absolutely no fight or unwillingness when he, admittedly, manhandled you. You’d followed dutifully behind him and then simply allowed him to position your arms the way he wanted them.

There’s another little parasite that burrows into his brain right there. Right as he’s got you in his grip.

He slows to a stop, a little question forming in his head. He slips the arm that had been wrapped around your waist away, instead curls his fingers across your chin and jaw. He tilts your head up, looks down at your face, searching it for… something.

He meets no resistance. You only stare up at him, doe eyes blinking. He tilts your head to the left, then to right, and still, nothing.

Huh.

He lets go, and you shudder, a full body shiver. And he thinks, in this moment, that he could do whatever he wanted, and you might let him. He could break you, like this.

It’s a very dangerous thing, he decides. Because he doesn’t want to break you. He doesn’t want to hurt you. He wants to peel back the bandaids and see what’s under them. He wants to scrub the dirt from your face and give you soft clothes —his clothes— not those tattered rags that hang off your body.

You might let him do whatever he wants, but you’re the one who holds this power over him. You’re the one who made him sick— filled his head and clouded his judgement and made him the kind of man he never used to be.

But he can’t say any of that. Can’t even act on it. Not with someone young enough to be his daughter. He has a daughter for Christ’s sake. And a son.

So he just wraps his arm back around your waist and helps you to the medics.

—

“Rick,” Daryl says one afternoon, leaned on the post on the porch, “You’re drivin’ me crazy, here.”

“I’m not sure how I’m supposed to help with that.”

“The fawn.”

He raises an eyebrow. “The fawn?”

“You know. That nervous little thing you keep pretendin’ you don’t want in your bed.”

“Daryl.”

The man just keeps fiddling with his crossbow. “What?”

“I can’t just— she’s half my age.”

“So you’ve said.”

“I got kids to think about, and—“

“Carl don’t give a shit and Judith is ten. Only thing she’s concerned about is sneakin’ sweets.”

He entertains the notion in his head, thinks about what pursuing you might be like.

Something occurs to him.

“She ever get close to you?”

“No,” Daryl huffs, always knowing exactly what Rick means, “Keeps about an arm’s distance away. No matter what. She’s been inchin’ closer recently, but not by much.”

His hand on your face, moving it this way and that without any resistance at all, your body pliant in his grip—

“Hm,” Is all Rick says, crossing his arms.

“Why fawn?”

Daryl shrugs. “Looks like one. Kinda acts like one, around you.”

“No she doesn’t.”

Daryl levels him with a look. “Yes, she does. And based on the way you’ve been actin’, you like it.”

He opens his mouth to refute the point because no, he doesn’t like it, he just constantly thinks about how far he could take it, what you would let him do, if he could make you his.

And then he thinks ‘oh.’ Maybe he does like it.

He drops his hands to his hips. “What exactly am I supposed to do, then?”

“I don’t know. Ain’t my area of expertise.”

“You’re the one who knows her better, said I was drivin’ you crazy.”

“So? I don’t know jack shit about romance, Rick.”

“Well, you keep calling her a fawn. How different can it be?”

Very different, his mind supplies. You know that.

Now it’s Daryl’s turn to sigh. “Don’t overwhelm her. She’s a nervous little thing, but she likes you. Once she figures out you ain’t gonna hurt her, she’ll latch on.”

“That’s specific. You deal with fawns a lot?”

He snorts. “No. I’m fuckin’ guessin’ here.”

The two men fall into silence, Daryl fiddling or cleaning his bow— Rick ain’t paying that much attention to him.

He’s thinking about you. You, you, you. Your eyes and your face and your hands and the figure you carefully keep hidden under layers of clothing, even under the hot Virginia sun.

Fawn, he thinks to himself.

Fitting.

—

He doesn’t make a plan or something stupid like that. He just thinks. And then he decides.

“You’re really coming with us?” Glenn asks, pack slung over his shoulder.

“Yep,” Rick says, holstering his gun, “Goin’ stir crazy in there. Just needa get out for a bit.”

You’re quiet as you get your things in order, but the group doesn’t bat an eye. They’re used to your silence, it seems.

You can’t seem to tear your eyes away from him, though. You look away every time you think he’s looking at you, but he’s good at looking at you out of the corner of his eye, so he sees it.

Throughout the run, you hover near him, never quite going out of range of his field of vision. He’s impressed by how quietly and efficiently you work- you spot things even he wouldn’t have. All the while watching for walkers, and of course, subtly eyeing Rick.

Despite being the leader, he heads up the back and watches for stragglers. He didn’t really come out cause he was stir-crazy, anyway.

He came out for you. He wanted to watch you work, wanted to do it with you.

To your credit, you work well with the others. You’re a woman of few words with them, but you help where you can and stay civil. Even if you don’t quite get close to any of them.

Except Rick.

As they’re scavenging an abandoned house, a few walkers shuffle out from the trees. Not enough to be a problem— the group outnumbers them easy. But you’re all busy getting supplies and he’s trying to keep an eye out, so he takes them out, one by one.

It really isn’t a huge thing for him, couple walkers ain’t really a big deal, but you notice.

Your eyes are trained on him, clothes now dirty with blood and gore.

He tilts his head, then makes his way over to you.

“You, um,” You say as he gets closer, voice a little hoarse, “Are you alright?”

He runs a hand through his hair. “I’m fine. It’ll take more than a few walkers to take me out.”

You blink. “Oh.”

He snorts a little laugh. “You ain’t too good at this whole conversation thing, huh?”

You flush, looking away. “Sorry. I’m just not… used to having them.”

You look up at him, earnest. “But I’ve been practicing!”

Oh, lord have mercy over his poor soul. You’ve done a full 180– turned from being afraid of him to very obviously wanting his approval.

“That’s good, that’s good. Who you been practicin’ with?”

“Daryl.”

“Now, that ain’t no good.”

You frown, shifting in place. “It’s not?”

“Well, it’s good that you’re tryin’,” He amends, “But Daryl ain’t good for conversation practicin’. He’s a little too much like you. Much too inclined to just sit in silence.”

“Oh.”

You pause, taking your lip between your teeth and mulling something over in your head.

“Would you, um.” You look up at him, clearly nervous.

And he can’t help himself really, from leaning down into your space a bit, a low “Hmm?” humming from his chest.

Your reaction is instant. This close, he can see the exact moment a flush crawls across your face, to even the tips of your ears.

And he’d suspected, you know, based on your behavior with him. But this— cold hard evidence that he makes you nervous. That you want him on you.

It’s cute. Real cute.

You steel yourself against your own nervousness, and he wants to coo at you.

“Would you practice with me?”

He leans back against the post, slides his hands into his pockets. “Course. Ain’t much to it.”

You smile. It’s small, a quiet sort of thing, but it’s there. He made you smile.

You gesture to the house behind you. “I’m. Gonna go back to scavenging. Um. Thanks.”

You turn on your heel, fleeing back into the house. He watches you go, something settling right into place in his chest.

You stick a little closer to him for the rest of the run.

—

After that day, you begin seeking him out. You don’t approach him right away, preferring to to trail behind him for a little bit before finally making a move.

The move being a quiet: “Hi, Rick.”

Today’s no different, other than it being a little later when you do find him. He’s taking a little stroll around, as is his usual. It… settles him, to see everything alright with his own two eyes.

Settles him even more when he hears the quiet patter of your footsteps behind him.

He chuckles. “Afternoon, darlin’.”

Your foot steps speed up, fall into step somewhat beside him. “Hi, Rick.”

“Hi,” He says, smile tugging at his lips. “How was your day?”

You clasp your hands behind your back as you walk. “Good. Weren’t many walkers on today’s run. I got something for Judith.”

“Oh? Let’s see it, then.”

You take something out of your pocket and hold it out to him.

It’s a pocket knife. One of those multi-tool ones.

And it’s pink.

“I know it’s a cliche, the girls knife being pink, and she is only ten, but I saw it and I thought of her, and—“

“It’s perfect,” He interrupts before you can start spiraling. “She’s gonna love it.”

You deflate almost instantly. “Oh, good. I wasn’t sure.”

You walk for a few minutes before remembering the point of you coming up to him.

“Um. How was your day?”

He huffs a little, too fond to be upset. “Fairly decent. Ain’t got too much going on now.”

“That’s… good?”

He shrugs. “Just a little borin’. How’s that ankle of yours?”

This is usually how your conversations go. A few easy, back and forth questions. Easing you into talking to people, keeping conversations going. You’ve slowly gotten more confident. You talk a little longer, voice sounds a little more expressive.

“Fine.” You say, a little too quickly.

He narrows his eyes. “Really? No pain at all?”

It’s the looking away that sells it. You never look at him when you’re lying. Can’t stand to.

“No. It’s fine.”

He kicks his foot out a little, the toe of his boot just barely catching your ankle.

It’s a little more effective than he wanted. You let out a little yelp of pain and stumble forward, ankle almost immediately buckling.

He darts forward, catching you under the stomach with one arm.

You hang there a little, arms dangling.

“Fine, huh?” He hefts you up, so you’re back to standing upright, though now, visibly favoring your ankle. “So what’d the doctor tell you when I dropped you off?”

“Rest, ice, compression, and elevation.”

“And which of those four have you been ignorin’?”

“…”

“Hey,” He says, tapping the side of your jaw with two fingers. “Don’t lie to me.”

“All of them,” You wince, “I just didn’t want to be useless. I can walk on it fine. You haven’t even noticed until now!”

Your voice goes a little high at the end, a little desperate.

He thinks about how animals that are lower on the food rung don’t show pain. A deer will break a leg and keep walking until it drops, till it slows too much and something picks it off.

But you ain’t an animal, and nothing’s gonna pick you off.

“That’s true,” He says, “But that don’t make it right. You’re just prolonging the healing process.”

You look down. “…You were mad. I didn’t want to make you more upset by being useless.”

Ah. So that’s what it’s all about.

His approval, once again.

“I’d rather have you useless for a week than useless forever because you didn’t rest properly,” He ignores the hypocrisy of it, the fact that he’s ignored medical advice more times than he can count.

“I really am fine, mostly,” You say meekly, “It’s stopped hurting when I walk. It’s just a little unstable.”

“I still want you taking it easy for a little, you hear me?”

You nod.

“Nah,” He moves, standing in front of you, more than a little in your personal space, “I wanna hear you say it. Use your words.”

It’s a little test of sorts. To see how you’ll respond. What you’ll say. If you’ll listen.

You swallow, eyelashes fluttering. “I hear you. I understand.”

“What are you gonna do?”

“Take it easy.”

“That’s right,” You’ve been nice and obedient, so he figures you deserve a little reward. “Good girl.”

He hears your sharp intake of breath, watches your eyes get a little glassy.

Aw, that’s all you wanted. Just wanted to be someone’s good girl.

His good girl.

He nods towards your place. “Get along, now. Do I have to walk you to your door?”

“No,” you shake your head. “I’ll go. I will. Uh— bye.”

He watches you scamper away, gait a little uneven, hands clenched at your sides.

I can get used to this.

—

It becomes a little thing, after that.

When you’re not busy with your own responsibilities, you’re usually with him. Either right beside him, or trailing a few feet behind. Your company is quiet and calm, like waves from a lake lapping gently at the shore.

You also begin to settle in with the rest of the group. You’re still more inclined to be near Rick or, if he’s not available, Daryl, but once you become comfortable talking with people, Maggie and Glenn are quickly added to your slowly growing roster of safe people.

Judith has loved you ever since she found out that you’re the one who gave her the most beloved pink pocket knife, and enjoys babbling and talking your ear off about nothing the way that ten year olds do.

Carl grows to appreciate your presence too, finding solace in the fact that you don’t feel the need to fill silence with conversation.

You still act different when Rick is around, though. Especially when it’s just the two of you.

With everybody else, you’re subtly but very strictly independent- despite growing close with the group, you still maintain a slight distance with most of them, and prefer doing things yourself, by yourself. Old habits die hard, he supposes.

But when you’re alone, just Rick and you, those hard edges soften, and your little personal bubble pops. He’s steadily growing obsessed with the change.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it. Having such a cute little thing follow him around, hanging off his words. Most days, it’s all he can do not to throw you over his shoulder and carry you to bed.

And then one day, he does. Kind of.

It must be the middle of the night, but the second he hears the knock at his door, he’s wide awake.

He hushes both Carl and Judith back to bed, then creeps to the front door with his hand on his gun. He has never, in his entire life, been awoken in the middle of the night to good news.

When he opens the door he sees you. And Daryl, but he’s really focused on you. You’ve got tears streaming down your face, you’re wearing a strange combination of sleep clothes and the clothes he’s seen you wear to do runs. Your boots are on, but not tied.

“Wha—“

“Caught her sneaking towards the gates, all shaken up. Figured it’d be wiser to take her here then back to her place.”

Daryl pats your head once. “Don’t do anythin’ stupid.”

Then Daryl’s gone, and you’re standing on Rick’s porch, still crying.

“Alright, come here now.”

He barely manages to get the door closed before you fall into him, face pressed to his chest and hands grasping the front of his shirt.

He hesitates for just a moment before wrapping his arms around you.

“Shh, shh. You’re alright, you’re alright now.”

He presses one hand to the nape of your neck, keeping you tucked close as you crack, just a little bit, nearly silent tears staining his shirt and tremors wracking your body.

Eventually, he guides you over to the couch, situates himself before helping you into a more comfortable position. He wraps your arms around his neck, your legs draped across his lap and the couch.

He keeps one hand pressed to your neck, the other rubbing slow circles on your back.

He presses his cheek to the crown of your head, breathing in deep and slow, a curl of satisfaction rising in his chest when you unconsciously mimic his breathing, silent sobs slowing, tremors fading.

Once you’ve calmed down enough, he speaks.

“What’s got you so worked up, huh? What happened sweetheart?”

The pet name slips out of his mouth unbidden, but honestly, he wouldn’t take it back.

“Nightmare,” You sniffle. “Daryl was gone and it was my fault and you hated me.”

“Well, none of that happened now, did it?”

You shake your head.

“No, that’s right. Daryl’s just fine, and I ain’t upset with you. You’re alright.”

You take in a few shaky, shuddering breaths.

He shifts, readjusting and tucking you closer to him. “Now, how come you didn’t come to me? Daryl said you were headin’ to the gates.”

You go a little rigid. “Didn’t think I was allowed. Didn’t want to wake you up for something stupid.”

“Oh, none of that now,” He nudges you away a little, taking your face in his hands. He needs eye-contact while he says this, “You need something, you come to me. I don’t care what it is, I don’t care what time it is. You come to me, you understand?”

You nod, lip wobbling a bit. “I understand.”

He thumbs your cheekbone. “Good. Now come on. Let’s get you back to bed.”

In the morning, the kids are a little surprised to see your rumpled form at the kitchen table, but both recover fairly quickly. Judith especially, who rejoices at the prospect of someone other than Carl or her father whom she can hold hostage with inane, ten year old questions.

But you never quite shake that haunted look in your eyes. Like there was something else— something more in that nightmare, something that dug its little claws in and stuck fast.

It’s all he can do but pray it doesn’t last.

—

It becomes an unspoken thing that wherever Rick is, you’re nearby. Kind of like a little puppy, following him about and hoping for a treat.

He indulges you, because he can’t really help himself in the face of those eyes.

He also knows it’s the easiest way to get you to smile, which he’s been trying to bring about more, since the nightmare. You’ve shaken that haunted expression for the most part, but every now and then, it’ll come back, if just for a few moments.

You’ve been absent most of the day today, off on a run, and he wishes it didn’t get under his skin so much to not have his favorite girl right there behind him.

You’re his stress relief, and you don’t even know it. Don’t even do anything really, just kind of linger about with your adorable little face and occasionally help with your cute little hands. He’s hopelessly obsessed.

You’re smiling when you get back, bee-lining straight for him.

“Well, well,” He says, resting his hands on his hips, “What do we have here?”

“I got you something,” You say, practically vibrating with excitement, slinging your backpack off and rifling through it.

“Oh, something for me? Can’t wait to see it.”

You pull an honest to god polaroid camera out of your bag.

“You said once that you wished you had pictures of your kids to carry with you, and I found this, and it still works, and it still has film in it. I checked.”

You thrust it out to him, and he extracts it carefully from your hands, holding it with an almost reverence.

A camera. A working film camera.

You shuffle in place, and he realizes he’s been staring at it in silence for more than a few minutes. “…Do you like it?”

“I love it,” He says honestly, voice just a little scratchy, because he doesn’t understand how someone can survive the zombie apocalypse, and still end up so damn kind, and so damn sweet. “I’m so touched, sweetheart.”

You beam up at him. If you had a tail, you’d be wagging it. He’s never understood cuteness aggression until this very moment. He just can’t. He wants to squeeze you as hard as he can or just punch a wall or some stupid shit.

God, he’s pushing forty, he needs to get this under control.

“I was really excited when I found it. Tara took a picture of me to test it.”

You pull out a little polaroid picture, film developed, and he takes that with reverence too. In the picture, you’re smiling, that same soft, little smile you do when you’re really happy about something and don’t know how to express it. Your hands show two peace signs, a knife clutched in one.

That’s my girl, he thinks.

“Might just have to keep this,” He says, dumb smile on his face.

“Really?”

“Really. You know, it’s good luck to keep a picture of a pretty girl with you.”

“Pretty?” You squeak, flushing. It’s so easy to make you flustered. He loves it.

“Mhm,” He says, tucking the photo into one of the compartments on his belt, keeping it safe. “Real pretty, I’d say.”

“Oh.” You say, more than a little breathless. “Um.”

Oh, your poor little brain.

“You need a minute?” He snorts.

“Maybe?”

He chuckles, patting the top of your head. “Oh, you’ll be fine. Better get used to it.”

“You’re pretty too,” You blurt, then your eyes widen comically. “No, wait, I meant—“

He laughs, a real, actual laugh. “Me, a grown ass man- pretty. That’s a good one.”

You bury your face in your hands, a tiny little whine escaping your throat.

“Aw, come on, now. Don’t be embarrassed. I’m very flattered you think I’m pretty.”

“S’ not what I meant.” You mumble.

“No?” He says, prying your hands off your face. “What’d you mean, then?”

You look away, unable to meet his eyes.

“You’re… handsome.” You whisper the last part, barely loud enough for him to hear.

“Aw, what’d I do to deserve a young thing like you thinking an old man like me is handsome?”

You mumble something again, a little too quiet for him to hear.

“…afe.”

He leans down. “What was that, now?”

“You’re safe.”

Oh.

That’s… not the answer he was expecting.

But he likes it.

Rick is a leader. A protector.

And you need him.

“I make you feel safe?” He hums, resisting the urge to step closer to you because you’re very much out in the open and he knows how you feel about wide open spaces, especially when there’s people in them. He’s torturing you enough as it is. “That why you linger around me, huh?”

Feeling bolder at his interest, you nod.

“You make me feel like… something special. Protected.”

Yes.

He’s always known that he needs to be needed. That he’s the kind of man who requires being a leader, taking care of what’s his, protecting.

To have verbal confirmation that he’s made you feel safe, protected, it’s.

Well it’s a lot more than he can unpack in front of the gates.

“Pretty little thing like you needs protectin’.”

You frown.

“Not because you’re incapable,” He amends, hands raised, “But because I rather like doing it.”

You lean closer, and he follows, heat rising—

“Please, save us all the pain of havin’ to watch, Rick.”

He grins, nose brushing yours, then steps back.

“Maybe stop creepin’ around, Daryl.” He calls to the other man, who just shrugs, ambling on by.

But Daryl does have a point. He doesn’t want an audience. You’re not that kind of girl.

Instead, he reaches down, snakes an arm around your waist and leads you away from the open space, towards his house instead.

“Come on, sweetheart. Think you’d rather be somewhere quiet for what I’m about to do.”

The heat radiating from your body and the shiver he feels under his palm is all the confirmation he needs.

His little fawn, finally his.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

[riadoodles]

I love your rooks sm! 🥹 you got any lore on them?

thank you omg!! Ok so it's been a LONG time since I made/worked on ocs and I'm also not much of a writer so I have a bunch of scattered ideas and worked around with the backstory they already have (thank you DA for doing most of the work for me LOL). it's funny cuz Dawn is technically my second child but i had so much fun coming up with stuff for him (SORRY ESHA I LOVE YOU TOO) also I wanted to answer your question the minute i saw this but decided to ALSO have some doodles with blurbs to show you. SOrry for the wait, but thank you so much for the rook love and this question!!

[forkingbrusselsprout]

Rook & Lucanis Vignette

Word count: under 1k

Content warnings: none

… pure fluff …

[I will be posting a series of little vignettes for my Rook - Esha Mercar - and Lucanis. They are not necessarily related or even following their canon story. Just writing down little day dreams]

The halls of the Lighthouse are quiet tonight, save for the faint hum of the Fade that seems to echo endlessly through the space. Most of the others have retired for the evening, their footsteps fading long ago, leaving the Lantern Room at the top feeling more isolated than usual. I’d been restless, pacing my quarters until the walls felt like they were closing in, and now here I am, climbing the winding stairs without entirely knowing why.

When I reach the top, I stop in the doorway, my hand lingering on the frame as I take in the scene. Lucanis is standing by the wide glass windows, his hands in his pockets, silhouetted against the faint, shimmering light of the Fade outside. He hasn’t noticed me yet—or maybe he has, and he’s just choosing not to show it.

For a moment, I consider leaving, letting him have whatever space he’s carved out for himself tonight. But something about the way he’s standing, still and quiet, pulls me forward. He’s always been like that—steady and unreadable—but tonight there’s something else.

I clear my throat lightly, stepping fully into the room. “Couldn’t sleep either?”

He glances at me over his shoulder, his expression unreadable but not unkind. “Not really,” he says simply, turning back to the window. “You?”

“Restless,” I admit, moving closer. “Figured a walk might help. Ended up here instead.”

He hums softly, the sound low and thoughtful. “It’s quiet up here. Helps sometimes.”

I cross the room, leaning against the railing that circles the space. “And yet you look like you’ve been staring out that window long enough to memorize the view. What’s on your mind?”

He exhales softly, his gaze dropping to the floor before shifting back to the window. “Do you ever feel like… like the moment you take a step forward, you can’t take it back?”

The question catches me off guard, and I tilt my head, studying him. “Sometimes,” I admit. “But isn’t that the point? Moving forward means leaving something behind.”

He nods, though his expression remains thoughtful. “What if you don’t know what’s waiting on the other side? If it’s better, or worse?”

I step closer, the space between us shrinking, and I nudge his arm lightly. “You don’t strike me as the type to hesitate, Lucanis.”

He glances at me, the faintest glimmer of amusement in his dark eyes. “You’d be surprised.”

“Now I’m curious,” I say, smiling. “What’s got you so unsure?”

For a moment, he doesn’t answer. Then, slowly, he turns to face me fully, his expression softening into something quieter, more open. “You.”

The single word hits me like a weight and sends a shiver down my spine. My breath catches as I meet his gaze, the intensity in his dark eyes holding me in place. “Me?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re… not what I expected,” he says, his voice low and steady. “You make everything feel—different.”

“Different how?” I ask, my chest tightening as I watch him.

He steps closer, his presence warm and solid, and my heart pounds in my chest. “Different in a way that makes me want to take that step,” he murmurs. “Even if I don’t know what’s waiting.”

For a moment, the air between us is charged, thick with the weight of everything he isn’t saying. His hand hovers near mine, close enough that I can feel the heat of him, but he doesn’t move further.

“Lucanis,” I say softly, tilting my head to meet his gaze. “What are you waiting for?”

His lips part, like he wants to say something, but instead, he leans in slightly, his hesitation palpable. His hand brushes mine, light and fleeting, as if he’s giving me the chance to pull away. But I don’t.

Instead, I reach up, my fingers brushing his arm, and the small gesture seems to steady him. He closes the distance between us, his hand coming up to cup my cheek with a touch so gentle it makes my chest ache. His lips hover just above mine, and I can feel his breath, warm and unsteady.

“Tell me if this isn’t—” he starts, his voice a rough whisper.

“It is,” I interrupt, my voice trembling slightly but sure. “It is.”

That’s all he needs. He closes the last breath of space between us, his lips brushing against mine in a kiss that’s softer than I expected, almost tentative. There’s a gentleness to it, like he’s afraid he might break something, but when I press closer, my hands resting lightly on his chest, he deepens it.

The kiss is slow, deliberate, as if he’s pouring all the words he can’t say into it. His fingers thread through my hair, his touch warm and steady, and I lose myself in the closeness of him, the way he feels so solid, so real.

When we finally pull back, his forehead rests against mine, and I can feel the faint tremor in his breath. Neither of us speaks for a moment, the silence filled with the hum of the Lantern Room and the wild rhythm of my heartbeat.

“Rook,” he murmurs, his voice soft, like he’s still trying to catch his breath.

“Esha,” I correct him gently, my hand brushing his arm. “My real name. Because if anyone should know… it’s you.”

His eyes meet mine, and something in his expression softens even further. “Esha,” he repeats, my name slipping from his lips like it belongs there.

I smile, the warmth of his voice wrapping around me like a promise. And as we stand there, the room fading into the background, I realize that whatever step we’ve just taken, I wouldn’t take it back for anything.

[theshinazugawaslut]

Thank you for the tag, gorgeous!

I got dreamy rainbow too which isn't far off since I love every colour in the world!

Tags: @who-can-touch-my-boob @sluttysanemi

Which oddly specific colour palette are you?

Thank you for the tag, @citrus-moonlight!!! This is... quite literally my wardrobe color on top of the eyeshadows/lipsticks I wear on the daily so this is actually quite spooky skfjsdkf

Link to quiz.

No pressure tags (and you if you see this!): @sixpennydame @nube55 @littlerequiem @pinkberryfox @thechaoticarchivist

[i-creatied-au]

Answering on asks about Rook and their partner (full list of questions here) :> thank you all for the questions!

13) What song(s) do you associate with them? - @teamtakagi

This is the hardest question, actually 😅 until this ask, I didn't associate any songs with Esha and Lucanis. But after thinking, I got few

In two by Will Paquin and Eight by Sleeping at Last

18) When all is said and done, where would they like to retire together? Is marriage in the cards for them? Children? Pets? - @booksncatsworld

*shaking with enthusiasm*

Yes, they will marry. And they'll have daughter. And Esha will find a dog and bring it home. And probably they'll add Davrin to the relationship. And yes, I've been thinking about it absolutely normal amount of time.

If I'm being serious, I can't see them letting each other go. They are too down for eachother. So, after Esha helped Shadow Dragons in Minrathous, I think, she'll join Lucanis in Treviso to live together and marrying after some time. I don't know, if half-quinari can exist, but I don't really care. Cecilia is my dear baby and absolute papa's girl.

17) What is your Rook's favorite thing about their partner? What is the partner's favorite thing about Rook? - @lunammoon

Esha adores how passionate Lucanis about wyverns. Sometimes, she just mentioned them one way or another, to look how his eyes brighten up and he starting talking with enthusiasm. Lucanis loves and at the same time hates Esha's puns. Yes, they're horrible and they're mostly on the bird's topic ("Oh, me and Lucanis? Yes, you know... Birds of the feather..." or "Hey, Lu. What ruffled your feathers?"). But he can't help, but smile, seeing how Esha's eyes sparkling with joy and how she's giggling, hiding smile behind fist.

11) Who says "I love you" first? What is the other's reaction? Who thinks it first? - @larknnightingale

Esha thought "oh Maker, I love him, don't I?", while she run through Treviso to the dragon, choosing Lucanis over Minrathous. Since that day, she had this phrase in her head every time she looked at him.

But Lucanis was the one who said it. They where laying on her room, after Esha returned from the Fade, and man muttered "I love you" between their gentle kisses. Quinari chuckled quietly and hold him tighter, saying "I thought I'll need to kill every archdemon to hear that...". She laughed, seeing how man rolled his eyes, and kissed him again, whispering when they pulled away, "I love you too".

[sca3a]

Ooooooh 🌸 & / Or 🌾 Please!!! 👀

~ mercars-musings

Aw, thank you so much for the ask! <3

I am answering this for all my Rooks, because I can ☺️

🌸 Does your Rook have any siblings or close friends they see as such? Where are they during the events of Veilguard?

- Taleasin has two adopted siblings. An older brother, Lucius, which is the Mercar's biological son. He is a mage and as such enjoys quite a bit more luxuries than Taleasin, even though they too are a mage. Then there's Novia, their younger sister. She's a Qunari and also adopted.

Taleasin and Novia are super close, much due to the fact that they live in a country that does not like them.

Taleasin does have a couple of close friends in the Shadow Dragons, and they did keep in touch as they were sent away with Varric. Unfortunately they did not survive Elgar'nan's invasion of Minrathous, although their family did thankfully.

- Natalis was an only child to a single mother. As a child he had a lot of friends in the alienage, but at the age of 7 he was taken by Tevinter slavers and sold to a magister in Vyrantium. During his enslavement, he had no friends due to not being allowed to. He wasn't even allowed to speak to the other slaves.

After having, more or less, forced Viago de Riva to bring him back to the Crows after the latter having assassinated his master, Natalis eventually found a friend in Crecenzia - a fellow fledgling.

She was the one to keep him appraised about House affairs as he was off with Varric, as well as commenting on the fact that "Viago may be cursing your name, Nat, but Maker knows he misses your annoying ass."

She does join the final fight because Natalis deserves all the help he can get.

- Felassan grew up in a Dalish clan in Arlathan Forest. He has three sisters, all of them younger. All of them struggled with his decision to give up his role as First and join the Grey Wardens - because why would he do such a thing?

In the Wardens he found a close friend in a young man who had taken the joining just prior to him. Felassan viewed him as a brother and he loved him dearly, so he was absolutely heartbroken when he realized he hadn't survived Weisshaupt.

- Esha has four siblings, that she know of. Born from an inappropriate relation between a magister and his favored elven slave, Esha has been brought up in less than favorable conditions.

Growing up it was hard having friends, but she did find a couple amongst the magister's other younger slaves.

After escaping the galley she was serving on, and having been taken in by the Lords, Esha found friendship and kinship amongst her fellow Lords - especially a couple of Qunari siblings.

Those siblings helped out at Minrathous, because they knew she would help them if need arose.

🌾 If there was a demon trying to trap/take over Rook, what kind would be most successful? What would break their hold?

(Jikes, this was a difficult question to answer 😅)

- For Taleasin I think a Fear demon would be the most successful, because they carry a lot of mental scars and PTSD. They doesn't show it, but they are scared A LOT. And I think a Fear Demon would sniff that out easier than a mouse on cheese.

Seeing as their love for Emmrich runs deeper than anything, I think he would be able to break the demon's hold - much thanks to his Fade experience and deep knowledge of spirits.

- For Natalis it would be a Rage demon. He carries a lot of rage after everything he's gone through and just mentions of Tevinter, magisters and slavers causes him to fly into a white hot rage.

Breaking the demon's hold would be difficult, seeing as how deep his scars run, but I think Lucanis (with a lot of help from Spite) might be able to reach him.

- Being trained by the Dalish, Felassan would be difficult for a demon to possess because he has been taught how to identify a demon's presence. BUT! If it would happen, it would most likely be a Desire demon. In the clan he often struggled with his sexuality and his feelings for a hunter whom he had fallen in love with. The hunter, however, spurned him because he disliked Felassan's homosexuality.

Seeing as the Demon would most likely take on Maron's appearance, Felassan would most likely manage to break the hold himself. Mostly because, even if he still has some feelings left for him, but those feelings are quickly being eclipsed by his feelings for Davrin. And Davrin would run his sword through the Demon without even blinking, so there's that.

- Ersa would most likely be targeted by a Pride demon.

She can be a bit prideful, especially when it comes to her abilities to find treasure and dismantle traps.

She has no knowledge of the Fade or spirits and demons in general, and seeing as she isn't a mage she has never even considered being trapped by a demon. But luckily she has a partner who's a Fade expert, and he'll save her.

<This became very long. Sorry! 🙈>

[real-sanemi-shinazugawa]

Question for the mod:

You alright? You’ve been taking extended absences and I just wanted to ask.

From Esha:

Hi! I apologise for not being active on either of my accounts, on my main account ( @theshinazugawaslut ), I've told everyone that I will be on hiatus due to exams and due to personal reasons, my mother had to leave to see her family in a different country, this has left me in charge of my taking care of my siblings so I'm rather busy as of now.

My hiatus ends on May 17th in which I will be returning to both accounts! I have some free time today so I'll be answering everything on this account (though I'm also procrastinating since I have an exam in a few hours)!

Thank you for your concern, my lovely! I hope you're doing well.

Lots of love, Esha

[bhaalbaaby]

intro post~♥

hey! better late than never. im bhaalbaaby/battinsonsgf/kton.

this blog is dedicated to all things baldur's gate 3 to keep my main blog less cluttered. if you see a random emo batman blog liking your stuff and asking you questions, that's me 🦇

i make 3d art and write sometimes.

minors, racists, homophobes, transphobes, etc dni!

inbox is always open! i answer when i can and hopefully as quickly as i can! don't be a stranger! don’t be a dick and we’ll get along just fine 💕

tags, links, ask/request guidelines below ♥

tavs:

Sarnarei | Tiefling | Sorcerer | Sage + Haunted One | Wild Magic

Hele | Half-Elf | Cleric to Mielikki + Nature Domain | Noble

Esha | High Elf | Druid | Haunted One + Circle of the Moon

Penelope | Tielfing | Bard/Rogue | Entertainer/Charlatan // (The Stillness Bends)

fanfics+ headcanons oc musings (ask me about them lol) edits art black discord commission informationtrello

Requests guidelines!

What I can do:

✨ do: fluff, angst, headcanons, hurt/comfort, serious relationships/established, smut (bdsm, some non-con-con, threesomes, breeding, blood kinks, anything kinky that isn’t listed in don'ts), reader/second pov, pregnancy, ascended, some au, some companions as long as it’s threesomes, tav/companion

✨ ask first: male tavs (only for writing. i can do gender neutral), some kinks just ask

✨ don’t: extreme kink ei watersports, inflation, extreme food related sex, omegaverse, oviposition, if i have to look it up most of the time is a no, gender dysmorphia, companion/companion (only for headcanons), character death, dead doves

[crownsofesha]

Your story is so confusing, why are females called Kings and Grand Dukes and vice versa? I don’t get it

I started this story about four years ago so originally this wasn't the case, which you can see in the first couple story posts. I started doing more worldbuilding and decided there are no differences in pronouns (which you can see in languages from the philippines), so titles would all be gender neutral. Also I took it a little futher and decided that all the characters in my story from Esha that aren't from collabs could be either consider Intersex or nonbinary (not to say that intersex people are nonbinary because they are not the same, but more to make it ambigious). So to answer your question any fem presenting sims are that are titles Grand Duke are the children of a King. The spouse of a Grand Duke is titled a Grand Duchess. Any King that is fem presenting is just a King and vice versa.

[theshinazugawaslut]

Sanemi thinks he's really fucking slick when you both have a mission together one night and he links pinkies with you, dragging you along, claiming it's so that your ditzy ass doesn't get lost despite it being you who often tells him he might be going the wrong way.

He's not grabbing your entire hand (even though he wants to) so he smugly smiles to himself, thinking he has you fooled.

There's no way she knows I like her.

It's been obvious to you for awhile now, you're just waiting for him to propose already.

[thanklessindubai]

Armand looked a wee bit exhausted. He didn't want questions because he didn't have answers. In fact, he'd been hoping Esha would. That she would use her human superpowers of empathy and common sense -- things that were unreachable for him -- to calm his nerves or tame his heart or whatever humans do.

But more and more he was feeling hopeless.

"Never mind. It wasn't fair to expect your help with something I don't understand myself. Esha, do you think I'm narcissistic? I know I'm not human; there are some complications that can't be accounted for."

"In what way, Armand? There are many ways humans help eachother."

Was he ill? Like...Did he need some kind of warm blood soup? Or was he looking for affection?

A hug? Another secret kiss on the lips? Affirmations?

"I want to make sure I'm helping you and not...Upsetting you."

[riadoodles]

brb still working on doodling answers for your Rook questions.. So can you keep an eye Esha for me? Thanks

[i-creatied-au]

Answering some questions for the rook ask game! :> thank you all for asking!

Original list of questions here

2) How well-qualified for their new leadership position are they really? - @larknnightingale

She's not perfect leader, but she's slowly learning to be one

Esha was a loner most of her life, so she often has troubles with getting along with people. Plus, it was easier for her to follow orders, not giving them. So after becoming a leader she all the time asks herself "what would dad/Varric do in this situation?". Surprisingly, that helps a lot.

4) What's other people's general impression of Rook? How does Rook come across in conversation?

She can be scary and intimidating at first, and she learned to keep her face calm. But once she starts talking she's polite or even friendly (almost with everyone). People usually stunned when they meet Esha, firstly out of the nervousness and then because they don't sure if she's being nice or they're hallucinating.

10) How often does someone have to fish them out of a body of water? - @teamtakagi

Rarely. Esha is horrified of the water so she prefers being as far from it as possible. But... Sometimes happens this:

Lucanis: Rook, I'm beginning you, don't do it

Esha: it's fine, I got it.

Davrin: yeah, go on) I would like to see if your jump will be enough to get on the other side)

Lucanis: quit encouraging her. Rook, I'm sure there more chest around, don't jump across this river

Esha: what if there some cool things? I'M JUMPING!

*few moments later*

Esha, sitting wet and sad: ...two coins. There were two coins.

14) How often do they actually get a decent night's sleep? - @ezriell

Surprisingly, more than she expected. Sure, after tough missions it's hard to sleep because of the nightmares (or guilt) but other times, Esha sleeps pretty well

19) What's their favorite outfit like? - @booksncatsworld

Simple and comfortable (and boring if you'll listen to Neve)

24) What's a lie Rook's told before, and why? - @ezriell

"I don't regret running from home"

She does. She regrets not telling parents about her plan. Her only hope is that they don't mad at her, for not explaining her reasons of running away

But Esha keeps repeating this little lie, hoping, what she'll believe in it too, and stop missing home as much as she's doing now.

25) What do they do after the end of their adventure? - @booksncatsworld

She'll help Minrathous for a long time, exchanging letters with Lucanis, to keep in touch. Plus, she'll finally visit her parents and apologies (there'll be a lot of crying and hugs). After she'll make sure everything will be fine back home, she'll move to Treviso to live with Lucanis :>

[healcrs]

family problems. the cardiothoracic surgeon nodded, sighing. it is one of those things that patrick can't relate to. his family was the best and in that moment, it made him grateful that there was never any drama. disagreements happened, sure. but he knew his parents were super happy and in love still after all these years, both successful in careers and life, and then their kids were too. by esha's body language, he could a sense that she really didn't want to go into detail. that was fine, he would not push further. but he still wanted to show her that he was more than her attending. he could be a friend if she let him. 

❛ ahh, work can be a good distraction. ❜ he said. ❛ but it is also important you don't overdo it. your residency is hard enough. I know it's hard. i have been there. but know your limits. ❜ he gently reminded her. he briefly turned around to ask a nurse a brief question, getting the answer he needed. ❛ come on. let me buy you a coffee and a snack. we don't have that much time before we need to prep our patient.  ❜ 

𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒊𝒕 𝒄𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆, 𝑬𝒔𝒉𝒂 𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒌𝒆𝒆𝒑 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇 𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒂 𝒓𝒂𝒅𝒂𝒓, but the past and the current present has a way of finding one when they least expect it. Maybe if she changed her last name at some point it'd be easier to dodge any suspicion that she's related to a highly wanted criminal. But at the same time she wanted to make sure the family name wasn't entirely tainted. Being pulled from her work she looks to Doctor Hadler and for a moment is confused. ❝ Oh, right, yeah.❞ she agrees, taking a deep breath through her nose and slowly exhaling. A two second meditation.

But he asks if she's okay. Truth is, she's far from it.

❝ Yeah just...family problems.❞ and that's putting it lightly. ❝ I'm trying to just stay focused on the job. ❞so much so she can't tell him the last time she's actually slept.