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trashmouth-richie · 2 months

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vitiosus + deliciosus [vicious + delicious🥀] || pt 2 of dulcis ut rosa

emperor geta x reader || things progress for geta + his little gnat || 4k

18+ smut, oral: female receiving, choking, slapping, biting, spanking

pt 1: dulcis ut rosa m🥀 || pt 1 ½: dulex🥀 || pt iii frangere me

You didn’t know what was to come of you after tonight’s rendezvous in Geta’s chambers. You could hardly sleep, your body sore in places you didn’t think were possible, but not in a discomforting way.

The pain was more of an ache, a pulsating want for the time spent in his bed. You daydreamed of his strong hands pressing bruises into your hips, of his mouth hot and wet all over your skin, the bitter tang of your own blood on his lips as he licked the bites better.

Geta was a force to be reckoned with. Dominating both outside and inside of his chambers. All of Rome feared him. A flutter filled your stomach at the mere thought of those dark eyes seamlessly devouring you when you worked up enough courage to look into them. No, you wouldn’t sleep at all tonight.

—

Caracalla carried on the next day pretending the previous night hadn’t happened. As if his miniscule brain shut out what he had done, carrying on with the daily run of nonsense. He smiled like a gleeful infant who had just discovered his toes at the first meal of the day. Gnawing on ripened fruit and leftover pork, he looked like a wild animal.

As if he had vanished with the night, Geta was nowhere to be seen.

During prandium, you asked a woman from your village as casually as you could manage if she had seen the missing Emperor.

Prisca turned up her nose at your question, questioning why you so desperately needed to know. Replying with a tone that matched her own, you very carefully articulated how Caracalla had asked you to find out. Ending the conversation with a clipped lip, reminding Prisca of your status to the Emperors, and hers with the lowest of soldiers ones missing limbs and their gift of sight.

Geta didn’t show for any of the day's events, giving Caracalla a taste of running the empire solo, a smear of greed on his protruding crooked nose. You were the only one to notice his absence and if the entire palace didn’t seem to take note, you’d act the same. Deciding to leave it alone, remembering the virtue in patience, you’d wait until tonight to catch his eyes in yours once again.

The sun seemed to taunt you all day with its beautiful rays, staying longer than it had the day before, never quite ready to go to sleep. The shimmering heat laughing at your dismay as you waited for the moon's powdery face to finally clock in for her shift.

You could hardly stand being in Caracalla’s arms as he held you close to him, his breath stinking of an ungodly amount of wine, making you promise that you would never leave Palatine Hill. Pleading that you’d stay with him forever until his dying day. Agreeing like a dutiful servant, you hoped and prayed that that day would come sooner than later.

—

Geta couldn’t pull himself out of bed the next day. Palace servants came and went, offering to move the drapes, karting in mountainous plates of food, but he had refused everything. Only barking orders to bring as much wine as they could carry.

Drowning himself in rivers of wine, he couldn’t remember a single time since infancy that he felt completely worthless. He was an Emperor for fucks sake. Others may succumb to feelings but not him, never him.

Maidens fell at his feet, begging for his attention. He called the shots, fucked them stupid then tossed them away like scraps. Not once had he let any of them get to a place inside of himself he couldn’t pinpoint.

He couldn’t get away from you. Your scent surrounded him, the jasmine perfume of your hair lingered on his sheets. A subtle hint of sugary sweet honey was still on his skin. He hated himself.

Loathed the love sick pup he had become in the twilight hours as he gazed at the ceiling, still tasting your core on his lips, his rings sticky and coated with it. Unwilling to remove them in fear that the tiny bit that belonged to you, created by him, would wipe away.

His hair was still askew in the same fashion you had rung it around your fingers. Cock hard again remembering the way your body felt in his hands, how that sweet little cunt gripped him tighter than anyone before.

The sheets blushed a crimson that neither of you had noticed that broke from your body. He smirked at the thought of his brother unable to make an untouched woman bleed. Clearly he was less than endowed, his size comparable to that of a dangling beetle.

Geta laid in the stains from the two of you, a complete and utter mess of a man unable to forget the sweet little gnat. No longer buzzing in his ear, but pulling at his mind, suffocating every other thought. The gnat wormed her way down into the cavity of his chest, laying against the pinky ventricles cozying up to the dying organ, coaxing it back to life.

“Cupid’s fool,” he spoke aloud then, as if he confirmed it to nobody but himself, “body and soul.” A small smirk on his lips as his feet swung from his bed heading to the bathing room to wash himself before the moon peaked in the onyx painted sky, and he met you in that corner corridor.

—

You traced the stones down the hall as you walked until the pads of your finger went numb. After not seeing or hearing from Geta all day, you questioned your sanity as you approached your typical spot as you always did night after night for months. Would he even show?

Caracalla was exceptionally gleeful this evening, an odd thing considering most of the time he cried like an infant throwing tantrums like a toddler.

Your heart raced at the possibility of seeing Geta. You’d never taken into account how handsome he was, and now without seeing him for a full day, you found yourself almost missing catching glimpses of him.

He had two looks that he offered to everyone else. Either sheer and utter boredom, fiddling with his rings in a lazy fashion— or his eyes narrowed into slits, nostrils flared and a twitch kissing the corner of his eyelid, that permanent scowl rising on his top lip.

When he entered a room, he demanded attention in just his body language, shoulders square and broad, chin held high and his jaw tight. Generals rose for him, servants leapt out of the way to avoid him until needed. He was a brute of the highest power.

But in the months of meeting him in the darkness, you had gotten to know how Geta operated. What made him tick, the fatigue wearing on his face after stressful days. The crease between his brows when you told him of Caracalla’s movements—studying, brooding.

It gave you a sense of power knowing that you were seeked out by him. Even if only for information and a wet mouth, you could feel it emanating from him to you when he came. It started roughly. But lately it was almost as if it could be intimate at times. And you weren’t sure what that meant. Either way— with Geta, you knew you were safe.

Darkness enveloped you on your blind approach to the infamous corridor. For a second, you thought possibly you were lost, somehow turned around until you heard a throat clear, and the handsome Emperor appeared before you, having been blocking the open window from view.

“Emperor, my apologies for keeping you waiting,” your lips fumbling as you bowed before him at the waist.

A chuckle rumbled from Geta, “you aren’t late, I am simply early,” he said, scratching at his chin, “I’ve been roaming around since the light left.”

“Oh?”

He simply nodded then, twirling a ruby ring around his finger, “…I have received word that Caracalla is becoming more and more delusional. He has increased his staff, begging our mother to supply a general outside of his door while he sleeps— you’ve probably noticed Acacius following him, yes?”

The ruggedly handsome salt and pepper haired soldier flanked the aforementioned Emperor all day, but you never gave it another thought— your mind busy on Geta’s whereabouts.

“I haven’t trusted my brother since we were young boys using sticks as swords, and the older he gets the more his brain stays in our childhood.” He spoke softly then, “it is only a matter of time before your movements after leaving his chambers are tracked… and I can’t have that. This will be our last meeting.”

You nearly shouted in his face, telling him that these nights were the only thing worth being stolen away from your village. Months you have done this and now it is gone because he was… worried? About Caracalla finding out?

Geta pushed off from the wall, standing with his usual confidence—his jaw tight, a strange look on his face. “What Caracalla does not know— is that Acacius has been loyal to me for years, and has been providing me with information about him for nearly as long.”

Your eyebrows crease as you try to unravel the thread he’s woven, and a small smile ticks at the corner of his lips as realization spreads across your face. Mischievous Geta, always a step ahead.

“Join me?”

—

Geta was approached by Acacius when leaving his chambers this evening.

“Emperor,” Acacius announced, bowing his head in honor, “I’m sorry to disturb you so late.”

Geta pulled his chamber door shut waving his hand in dismissal, “nonsense General, whatever it is it must be important for you to seek me out, what is it?”

“This is not easy for me to say.. I feel like a traitor to you. to these walls—”

“Out with it,” Geta pressed, irritated.

“It’s Emperor Caracalla… your excellency, I have been summoned to be posted outside his quarters and provide security for him during the daylight hours.”

Geta rubbed at his chin, a twitch in his eye, “I know you’re not one to joke on a serious matter Acacius, however this seems quite juvenile, even for my brother.”

“I assure you, he has been increasingly suspicious over the last few months, ever since that travel wagon arrived with the Virgines from Valleventus.”

Acacius gave Geta a knowing look, one to convey that he knew what happened in these walls at night once Caracalla’s whore left his chambers.

Geta smiled then, unable to hide it, his face relaxing as he clapped the General on the shoulder, “you are a great confidant, Acacius— I will take this into great consideration.”

—

The two of you strolled the corridors in silence, his knuckles grazing yours, your heart pumping wildly in your chest. You were certain that if the two of you were caught you’d be killed on sight, tossed in a deep grave without a second thought. But with Geta… you couldn’t find yourself to care about any of that. Did he?

You knew you were walking a thin line, and it got thinner the more time you spent with him. But if he was willing to walk it as well, you’d risk it… same as he was

After a few minutes, you broke the silence, “may I…ask you something?”

Geta tilted his head towards you, “yes.”

All day he had been gone, and your curiosity finally got the better of you. “Where were you?”

He smirks and your insides melt, “were you looking for me, little dulex?”

You turn away from his gaze, fumbling with a loose thread on your tolsa, “n-no. Caracalla had asked me.”

A laugh bubbles from his chest, “I am not fond of being lied to, try again.”

Sweat drips from your hairline, “He…well, he inquired about it...”

“Ah, so you were only wondering about my whereabouts when Caracalla finally noticed I was missing?”

“Yes.”

He stopped before a large set of doors and pushed them open revealing a large room, suffocated by darkness. You felt him leave your side to cross the room, and suddenly it illuminated by a candle he had lit. Gently tipping the flame into a massive candelabra, each wick of the candle igniting like a little orb, throwing shadows across the room.

It was one of the many rooms you’d never seen before.

A single staircase wove upwards with great iron detailing to a room above, a desk as large as a wagon was centered in the room, pictures of faces you didn’t recognize flanked the walls, the floors were spread of mosaic tiles: shaped and colored to resemble a salmon colored sunset. An open area let in a small breeze that trickled out into a luscious garden where a fountain could be heard bubbling, brought in by the wind. Luxurious armchairs were tucked into corners.

This room shared the same color of draperies as a room you’ve only been to once before. The dark hues set a mood that belonged to one singular man. This was a private area that even the highest generals weren’t even allowed in. Geta’s study.

He came back towards you, grasping your wrist, his thumb pressing into your beating pulse, his eyes lit like a roaring fire, “last chance, to be honest, were you the one looking for me?”

Hesitating with your breath caught in your throat, you peered into Geta’s seemingly soulless eyes, whispering, “yes,” as a heat rose on your cheeks.

A smirk pulls on his lip, and a dimple you’ve never seen appears, “oh, my puella dulcis,” he purred, shaking his head, those dark eyes hungry as he looked you up and down, “you’re in trouble.”

He pulled you to him, his large hands on your waist leading you further into the room as he walked backwards. “Do you know the pure agony you’ve put me through?”

“Me?”

Geta nods, pushing the straps of your tolsa away from your shoulders, admiring the marks he had left on your skin.

“Yes. You.” he says, rubbing the column of your throat with his thumb. “It is nefarious the hold you have over me. I’ve never felt anything like it. Death would be easier on me. A sword between my ribs to puncture my lungs, the festering boils from a plague, an arrow through my eye— anything and everything would be better than what you do to me.”

His hand clasps tight around your neck, the gasp you let out trapped in your throat.

“So, what am I to do with you? What am I to do with someone who keeps causing me this much trouble? Who risks herself being caught by seeking me out? Who is, dare I say, worried about my well-being?”

He slides his hand up and down the length of your neck, his other stroking your cheek resting his thumb on the crease of your lips.

“I punish my soldiers for much less, and as any great warrior, I shall be fair by keeping all of my subjects to the highest of standards, you unfortunately, are not exempt.”

One minute you’re standing in front of him the next you’re being yanked by your wrist as he stomps towards one of the large chaise lounges, he sits abruptly and pulls you into his lap. He’s hard, the feel of his erection making you whine pathetically.

He holds you by your hips and twists you around, until your face is level with the ground, your ass resting over his knees.

The sound of unbinding thread pops in your ears as Geta rips your tolsa away from you, leaving you bare, your ass on display like a holiday feast.

“I’ve never gazed upon an ass as round and fat as yours, and believe me when I say this my puella dulcis, I will thoroughly enjoy watching it burn in scarlet as it bounces beneath my hand.”

You don’t have a second to comprehend his words before a large ringed hand is slapped hard across your backside, causing you to shriek in surprise and pain.

“Fuck,” Geta spit, “we’ve barely just begun, you should be pissing with glee that I don’t keep my horse whip in my study.” Two more licks rip out and you moan.

He laughs wickedly, his sultry voice shushing you as he rubs his hand over the globe of your ass. “Enjoying this are you? I’ve heard stories from soldiers and even my own father about the whores during their time, how they begged, fucking pleaded to be hit on the ass by a man.”

Geta slaps his hand down hard more and more until you’d lost count. That same scorching feeling in your lower belly and the wetness between your legs just like last night came back, and you moaned.

Humming between your lips, you relished in the ache in your back as you tried to hold yourself up. Trying to wiggle forward so maybe his hand would slip and miss your ass but touch down where you needed him most.

But you didn’t need to ask, Geta laughed through his nose before slipping his thumb through your wet cunt, groaning at the heat of your arousal on his fingers again.

“What a tight fucking cunt you have,” he grunted before rubbing your clit, “ filtjy girl—looks like those legends were true, weren’t they?”

“Please,” you begged, trying to swallow his fingers with your dripping pussy.

Your small pleads tore through him, his cock answering with a twitch as it leaked. He brought you up your throat, holding you in place and moving your hips along the stiff ridge of his length.

Geta sunk his teeth into your bare shoulder as you moaned, “can you feel what you do to me?” he whispered, “the torture you put me through, the hours I spend like this with nothing but you trapped in my head. It’s murderous.”

Purring his name he groans, licking sweat from your neck. “I haven’t had a single hour since the first night we met without having this happening without needing to release myself. Do you think I can be a leader to my people with such indecency? As if I’m a young boy discovering his own body and the feel of his hand again. You’re a snake, filled with poisonous venom to come here and kill me.”

He rips your clothes completely off, wiggling his middle finger against your clit, praising the gods at the angel like whine that whispers from your lips.

“… and like the gnat, the snake has bit me, feasting upon my flesh, constantly hungry. But it is I who is left hungry by your tormenting ways,” he whispers in your ear, licking the shell of it, “and right now, I’m starving.”

Geta hoists you up in his arms, kissing your neck and squeezing your skin wherever he can reach as he walks to the enormous desk full of scrolls. With one mighty hand holding you, he swipes the desk clean, tossing everything that was once organized onto the floor.

He lays you down on the wooden top, your bare back riddling with goosebumps from the cool hard surface. Looking up at him this was the first you’ve seen his face since first entering his study.

His eyes were black, wide and wild, the candle light throwing shadows onto his face making him look monstrous. Like a creature straight from the dark world, one from a story told to children at night to scare them enough to not leave their beds.

Anyone else would run at the sight of such a man. Scream and claw their way from him, but not you. You simply opened your knees wider, showing the dripping wetness to him, what he did to you.

Geta simply watched. Watched and breathed heavily like a predator before leaping to attack his prey. He stared as you sucked a finger into your mouth, he almost flatlined as you brought that spit soaked finger down the length of your body, your nipples pebbling.

He swore he met death when you slipped that glorious finger into your cunt, and gently pumped it in and out.

“This,” you murmured weakly, unable to contain your moans, “is what you do to me.”

He groaned, practically drooling at you laid out before him. You tipped your head back as a small gasp rippled through you. Lifting your shoulders from the desk you looked him in the eyes, “I guess we are both demented, enjoying the torture from eachother.”

“I didn’t want to admit it,” Geta blurted, his dark eyes piercing the night, scaring away the shadows. “All day I wrestled with it, how you could make me quiver like a lovesick boy. I turned away meals, laying in the darkness, surrounded by your bewitching scent.”

“If you’re so hungry,” you whisper seductively, opening your legs wider, your arousal shining in the candlelight as you remove your fingers from inside of yourself, “then by all means, eat.”

Geta didn’t wait another second before pulling you forward by the crook of knees, your welted red ass skirting across the desk. You giggled as he feverishly lowered himself and held your thighs wide, “keep these open for me.”

His tongue was like an eel.

Geta flicked his tongue at a dangerous pace against your clit, groaning into your sex as you whined his name again and again. His licked and sucked your cunt as ravenous as a truly starved man, his moans vibrating your walls, sending your nerve endings into a liquid fired frenzy.

You’d never experienced anyone’s tongue between your legs, but this was better than anything you’d ever imagined, nothing compared to the way your body electrified beneath his hands, his mouth.

Geta’s nose rubbed against your clit as he lapped up your arousal. The burn in your belly seared and unraveled as you screamed out his name, your body rigid and then uncoiling as your muscles spasmed and quaked.

Your hands wrapped in a death grip in his hair, holding him tight to your pussy as you came, Geta encouraging you through the pleasure.

“Fuck, look at you,” he said, admiring the way you leaked and dripped on his desk, “taste so fucking good, this cunt belongs to me,” he breathed.

It was lust and vicious desire emanating from him as he spoke. and you melted at the desperate way you craved him. Grabbing him by the nape of his neck you pressed your lips to his, tasting your arousal on his tongue, you felt drunk

He hauled your weak body up in his arms, murmuring something about wobbly legs. Geta kissed your forehead as he climbed the spiral steps that lead straight into his chambers. His bed was made, but the smell of sex was still lingering from the night before.

Geta laid you down on his massive bed, careful of the marks on your backside from his hand. You watched as he undressed, his arms showing protruding veins like a river in the fallen snow. A deep scar you didn’t recognize before on his torso, identical to the one on his neck. His eyes seemed to look softer, a deep honey simmering, catching the light.

When he spoke it wasn’t with malice it was with truth, “you are mine. Understand? Not Caracalla’s, not anyone else’s, I will slaughter any man who challenges that.”

Your heart races as you stare at him, rising to your knees in front of him, “promise?”

“Meus amor,” Geta speaks, holding your chin with his finger, “that is my veritas, I give you my word.”

You stroked his hair as you pulled him down to the bed on top of you. Pressing his curls back into an unruly position, you admire the handsome Emperor. Your Emperor.

Pressing your lips to his, you pull him deeper, swirling your tongue with his in a frenzied tango. His hips respond to your open legs and his cock slides in with ease, fitting like a sword in a sheath.

“You are a wicked one, my dulcis.” Geta pants in your ear as his hips pick up a butchering rhythm. Your combined breathing is ragged, choked and gasping.

Biting his ear he hisses, but you lick it better, the same as he did to you last night, only a drop of his blood on your tongue as you whisper, “then we are one in the same, destinatum ease, destined to be.”

With that he flips you both over, guiding your hips up and down, forward and back as helps you ride his cock. When you both cum it’s loud, skin slapping skin, your arousal pooling around his cock, his fucked deep inside of you.

Laying in the sweaty, sin stained sheets, you twirl a finger in Geta’s hair, his head laying on your bare chest between your tits, his hand holding your ribs. “Tomorrow I will have the servants change the sheets while I bathe you in my private pool.”

“Is my Geta turning sweet?” you tease, “what will Rome think?”

Turning his head those ravenous eyes were painted in the midnight onyx that they usually were, returning with mischief laced in the irises, a devilish smirk on his lips.

He moved like a serpent, biting your right nipple between his teeth and tugging, causing you to squeal in a pleasured pain that is snuffed out by his large hand around your throat.

“Do not be fooled pretty girl,” the villainous flames flickered again in his eyes, a feral twitch on his lips that made you wet between your legs, “malevolence coats my veins thicker than blood.”

—

latin translation:

vitiosus + deliciosus — vicious + delicious

prandium— lunch

puella dulcis— sweet girl

meus amor— my love

veritas— truth

destinatum ease— destined to be

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arioloyal · 10 months

Note

Could you please write a fanfiction based on previous request of obsessive insecure Baldwin IV with female reader

I'll accept this idea since all of you are in love with his obsessive mood but I warn you, it's angst :) but don't worry, I'll do fluff one next time♡

(King baldwin iv x reader one shot)

Warning: angst, mention of blood and d🥀eath

:"I thought that you kept me by your side until now just because of your interest in me"...

:"It's not what you think, I have kept you until now so that I can keep the peace between Jerusalem and your father's empire . Believe me. It's good for both of us."

:"How could you be so selfish like your father?...

:"I'm not!...

"Please... let me go. I have to go back to my family. My father is surely mad with that. I beg you."

:"what about me?"...

Teardrops appeared like a shaky curtain in front of y/n's large and beautiful eyes. Her mouth was open and ready for another protest, but no words came out.

While holding both of y/n's hands in his own, the half-life king, in a sudden movement, weakness overcame his strength and fell to his knees.

"You thought I would let you go? I will never let you be separated from me.

:"I...it really breaks my heart to think that I've only been here as a hostage until now. I swear I'll get out of here anyway."

:"I am ready to k*ill you with my own hands, but I will never let you leave here. Your whole body and soul belong here. And also to me. Only me."

.....

:" god help me!... My legs can't take it anymore. How much left?...

"My lady! Now we are approaching the gate of Damascus, but the front of the gate is full of guard knights. It seems that the king has heard of your escape."

:".....

"My lady, do you have any idea?"

:"We have to wait for a convoy so that we can impersonate them and pass through this gate. A convoy is coming from far away. Hurry up and tell them that we will join them from now on. don't Tell them our real name. Hurry up."

:"Obeyed, my lady."

They finally managed to convince the head of the caravan to join their trade caravan. It wasn't long before the sound of fast hooves could be heard, kicking up dust on their way. After the guards finished inspecting the convoy, a man's loud voice broke the silence.

:"Stop! Nobody move!"

And that was the exact moment that panic sent shivers down y/n's spine. her eyes widened. This was the voice of Tiberias who had come here with his knights. There could not have been a worse disaster.

:"What happened, Lord Tiberias?! It's usually very rare to see you among the caravans!" The leader of the caravan stated with an almost mocking and sweet tone.

:"We're looking for a lady! She's tall and fair-faced. With dark,long curly hair. Have you seen such a person here? Has she asked you for help? If so, hand her over to us, or I'll confiscate this caravan and get you all in prison."

His strong words and threats caused a wave of protest and panic among the people who were there. Y/n would never let innocent people be sacrificed for her. There, she gathered all her courage and surrendered to God's will. she suddenly came forward from the crowd and shouted...

:"Wait!..." y/n took off her veil and black turban. For a few moments, breaths caught in their chests and all the knights stared at their king's lover in surprise.

Finally accompanied by Tiberias and his knights, Y/n arrived at the entrance gate of the palace. That palace was like a hell that had no escape and the owner of such a beautiful hell was a masked ghost whose blood stained eyes were visible under the mask.

Soldiers and knights were lined up on either side of Baldwin, all the templars, lord Lusignan and some nobles were also there. Was this a greeting? Or a trial?

:"my lord. We found Lady y/n trying to escape from Damascus Gate. This was her third failed attempt to escape."

Baldwin IV didn't seem to pay attention to what Tiberias was saying and the whole time he was staring at y/n who was now helplessly looking down at the ground.

:"Didn't I tell you some time ago that I won't let you go?"

:"My love for you was undeniable. But you abused my love and chose selfishness. I will never stay here as a hostage. I won't stay where I don't belong."

Everyone present witnessed their conversation when suddenly y/n turned away from the leper king and looked towards the exit gate. ready to leave for good.

:"STAY THERE!" His loud and scary voice made the heart beat in everyone's chest. In an unexpected move, he took Tiberias's sword with his good right hand. Everyone there looked in horror at the king approaching y/n and now standing in front of her. No one dared to speak.

:"If you take one more step..." The hand that was holding the sword started shaking. he wished this wasn't the last resort.

Unfortunately, y/n moved forward without listening to him. A tear fell from her eye at the last moment...

That was the moment...

y/n's scream echoed there. No thoughts, no words. just pain the pain. just pain.

There was nothing she could do but helplessly hold her hand to her stomach to stop the warm, red liquid from running down her long dress. The king's sword was stained with blood...

Her knees was getting weaker by the minute. Y/n was hugged by baldwin iv before she fell to the ground. The king, who was now out of his instincts, just realized what a disaster he had caused. He had sent his lover to d*eath.

:"No...n...no! I..I didn't mean to...I was wrong...forgive me. Please...forgive me my y/n. My beautiful white rose, Forgive me..." he sobbed nonstop and begged like a little boy.

:"Still... I still love you... poor you... poor me..."

:" Y/N!!"....

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your-local-crypt1d · 2 months

Text

More WRA and Roseblings headcanons 🥀

Part 1!

Gem inherited her mothers' green eyes, whereas fWhip inherited his father's blue. After she transitioned, people would often say she looked just like their mother, to the point it was uncomfortable. Gem never knew her mother, she doesn't share the grief of her people (as much as she understands why they grieve, she finds it hard to sympathise), and being thrown mournful glances and overhearing hushed whispers of the late empress left a bitterness inside even if she knew it was illogical to be upset over it.

"What do you know of my mother? I did not even know my mother!" Has been a phrase Gem's regrettably snapped more times than she'd like privy

Just the complicated feelings/experiences children of a mother who died during childbirth having to deal with growing up, especially when that mother was such a beloved political figure as Grand Empress MelodiaRose of the Wither Rose Dynasty

All traditional Grimmish names are compounds. it stems from their language having a logographic writing system (e.g. Chinese), so it contains a separate glyph for each word or phrase. Traditionally, Grimmish parents choose two words and/or names and compound them together for their children.

As mentioned in the previous part, fwhips' name is a poor translation between mythic and common, and it means "someone who gets back up after being knocked down".

Gemini comes from the tradition of the firstborn heir being named after a constellation or celestial body, and then Tay is a synonym of May in Grimmish. May/Tay in Grimmish has to do with the rising sun, and it symbolises the heir being the rising Emperor of their nation. Not that that happens with Gem, though.

So Gem has a very similar name to her father (like John vs. Jack levels of similar) and looks almost identical to her mother.

Unlike in other empires, adoption in the Grimmish royal family means being included in the line of succession, and having the same rights to inheritance as blood-related children.

With a large portion of the population being non-human ("monsters"), monster hunters historically have been a very big problem for the residents of the Grimlands. The heads on spikes and towering walls are to keep the hunters out.

This leads to many orphaned children in the Grimlands and surrounding empires, especially orphaned vampire children since Vampires are fiercely protective of their young to their dying breaths. Adoption is a large part of Grimmish culture, and they take it very seriously.

Their foster system is the best in the realm, support workers for children in the system are highly regarded (in the same way soldiers and doctors are), and as mentioned, royal adoptees have the same legal rights to inheritance as their adopted siblings.

Hence why Sausage, an adopted child, was allowed to become king of Mythland when he had no blood ties to the royal lineage.

Speaking of, I think Sausage would make iron friendship bracelets for the other Wither Rose Alliance members. Pearls' has sunflowers carved into the metal and inlaid with yellow gems. Gems' has amethyst pendants in the shape of magical symbols. fWhips' is painted black with little spiked studs painted red.

Sausage has a lot of scars from growing up, and when asked about them he has a running joke of always coming up with inconsistent and elaborate lies on how he got them, fWhip is in on it too. He's told the same advisor three different stories about how he got the scar on his upper arm (a warden, falling down a cliffside, stabbed by an assassin). No one knows the real story except Sausage, not even his siblings, but that's just Sausage for you.

With the surplus of crops, especially wheat, in Gilded Helanthia, I think baking would be a very popular and cheap hobby. Also popularised by their Queen taking an interest in it. Pearl usually makes pastries, tarts, and breads which she'll bring to WRA meetings for taste testing.

Gem doesn't have traditional courtiers as most rulers do, she has a large family of Allays who live in her tower and do nice fae things like cleaning up and bringing her important documents. Only occasionally do they hide things from her, or take coins, but Gem finds it hard to be mad when they technically "work" for her unpaid. The Allays don't seem to mind, though.

Along with that, Copper Golems aren't an uncommon sight in the Grimlands and Pixandria, the copper supplied from the latter and the engineering from the former. The Copper Golems around Eastvale are what inspired a young fWhip to take up engineering in the first place.

And native to the northern regions of Gilded Helanthia and further up north into Mythland and the Codlands are Glares. Just to round it all out. I imagine the Glares around the swamp have the moss cloaks (like depicted in-game), whereas ones from Mythlandic dark oak forests lean towards liverwort and fungus, and the ones from the Plains of Gilded Helanthia coontails and vines.

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fymo-blogs · 2 months

Note

Could I get a stimboard of Celene from the book empire of the vampire,I don't remember who did this art I am sorry ,lol

Sure!

Warning for blood below cut!

🖤|👁|🥀

🕸|🦇|🌑

♟️|🩸|👑

Celene stimboard

Note: @mayaaskblog found the link!

Requested by: @mayaaskblog

Song:

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padawanton · 5 months

Text

the NO-SKIP albums: a tag game 🎶💖

rules: share the albums that you can listen to nonstop. those lightning in a bottle-albums that scratch ur brain just right. every single track, an absolute banger. u could not skip one if u tried. no notes. stunning, show-stopping, immaculate. ur no-skip albums.🔎 bonus & optional (but imo, v fun) rules: 1) add a track rec for us to listen to! AND 2) share ur favorite line(s) from that track! 👀

Thank you for tagging me @faeryclown 🥺🤍 sorry it took me so long lol 😳 I'm not tagging anyone but feel free to do this 💖

🎧 album info/track recs/favorite lines under the cut

🥀Paramore's All We Know is Falling

Favorite Track: Pressure Tell me where our time went / And if it was time well spent / Just don't let me fall asleep / Feeling empty again

🌎Wrabel's these words are all for you

Favorite Track: pale blue dot I wonder what happiness feels like / I wonder if I felt it before / I wonder if love comes one time / Or two, or three, or even more

💀My Chemical Romance's The Black Parade

Favorite Track: The Sharpest Lives A light to burn all the empires / So bright the sun is ashamed to rise and be / In love with all of these vampires / So you can leave like the sane, abandon me

🌟Stray Kids' 5-Star

Favorite Track: Collision As time passed, we met and broke / The traces of it remain throughout the universe / Tonight

🦋Lil Nas X's MONTERO

Favorite Track: LOST IN THE CITADEL I remember when I met you / Thought the universe sent you / Thought you were someone I could vent to / So I hit your line, what you getting into?

👰🏼‍♀️The Crane Wives' The Fool in Her Wedding Gown

Favorite Track: Tongues and Teeth I will only break your pretty things / I will only wring you dry of everything / And if you're fine with that / You can be mine like that

🫧Fall Out Boy's So Much (For) Stardust

Favorite Track: Love From the Other Side I saw you in a bright clear field / Hurricane heat in my head / The kind of pain you feel to get good in the end / Good in the end

🧡IDK HOW's GLOOM DIVISION

Favorite Track: WHAT LOVE? What love, what love, what love / What love would get this viscous? / That's right, but never mind / This blood sometimes, holiness brings you

⚡️Red Velvet's Chill Kill

Favorite Track: One Kiss Almost out of reach, one, two, three / Gonna lose your head / Like falling into a swamp / One kiss / A trick that will swallow you up in an instant

#tag meme #music #paramore #wrabel #my chemical romance #stray kids #lil nas x #the crane wives #fall out boy #idk how but they found me #red velvet

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non-cullable-mutations · 5 months

Note

I am 'Curious' (A lie, although the purpose is to further the conversation under a question oriented approach), Why do you consider some 'Mutations' to be non-cullable? Or are you just going off of the strict medical definition.

WWW 🏵️h, hell🏵️! WWW

WwW 🥀t's n🏵️t s🏵️ much what 🥀 c🏵️ns🥀der cullable, the emp🥀re dec🥀des. 🏵️f c🏵️urse, there's always d🥀sagreement and gray areas, s🥀nce h🥀ghbl🏵️🏵️ds are all🏵️wed t🏵️ cull l🏵️wbl🏵️🏵️ds f🏵️r pretty much any reas🏵️n and call 🥀t a just🥀f🥀ed cull🥀ng. WwW

www That's als🏵️ why there's m🏵️re (al🥀ve) h🥀ghbl🏵️🏵️ds w🥀th mutat🥀🏵️ns that c🏵️uld be a "just🥀f🥀ed" cull🥀ng reas🏵️n f🏵️r a l🏵️wbl🏵️🏵️d, even 🥀f they're techn🥀cally c🏵️ns🥀dered n🏵️n-cullable www

WwW wa🥀t. 🥀 just real🥀zed y🏵️u m🥀ght have been ask🥀ng why the emp🥀re c🏵️ns🥀ders s🏵️me mutat🥀🏵️ns n🏵️n-cullable. Wh🏵️🏵️ps. S🏵️rry ab🏵️ut that. That's dec🥀ded based 🏵️n what w🏵️uld be c🏵️ns🥀dered a "detr🥀mental" mutat🥀🏵️n t🏵️ the emp🥀re and what's n🏵️t. S🏵️ f🏵️r example a ta🥀l w🏵️uldn't be a b🥀g deal, but s🏵️me🏵️ne w🥀th mutated bl🏵️🏵️d w🏵️uld. WwW

WWW oh, hello! WWW

WwW it's not so much what i consider cullable, the empire decides. of course, there's always disagreement and gray areas, since highbloods are allowed to cull lowbloods for pretty much any reason and call it a justified culling. WwW

www That's also why there's more (alive) highbloods with mutations that could be a "justified" culling reason for a lowblood, even if they're technically considered non-cullable www

WwW wait. I just realized you might have been asking why the empire considers some mutations non-cullable. Whoops. Sorry about that. That's decided based on what would be considered a "detrimental" mutation to the empire and what's not. So for example a tail wouldn't be a big deal, but someone with mutated blood would. WwW

#sapeak #asks #grumblr #homestuck rp #rp blog #unreality #Mutation talk

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loverandservantoftheahlulbayt · 1 year

Text

🍂🥀🍂 Karbala and Ashura

🥀 Historical Background

Muharram is the first month of the Islamic calendar, during which Muslims commemorate the martyrdom of Imam Husayn, grandson of the Prophet Muhammad. Husayn was born on the 3rd of Sha’ban, in the fourth year of Hijrah (625 CE). His grandfather, Muhammad, named him Husayn, which means ‘one of beautiful character.’

The Holy Quran refers to the Prophet Muhammad, his daughter Fatimah, her husband ′Ali, and their two sons Hasan and Husayn, in the Verse,

“Indeed, Allah wants to take away pollution from you, O, People of the House, and purify you [by a special kind of] purification.”1

The Prophet indicated many times that the people of his House were the most qualified for leadership. Referring to Hasan and Husayn, he said, “These two are my sons. They are two Imams (leaders).”

During the lifetime of the Prophet, Abu Sufyan, his family, and other influential families of Mecca tried to stop the Prophet in any way they could. They even attempted to murder him, but they failed. Later, after the Prophet’s death, Abu Sufyan’s son—Muawiyah claimed to be the leader of the Islamic Nation. ′Ali, the cousin of the Prophet and the true leader of Muslims after the Prophet’s death, defended the Islamic Nation against Muawiyah who formed an alliance with the Byzantine Empire and waged war from his capital, Damascus. Although ′Ali challenged Muawiyah to settle their dispute one‑on‑one rather than with armies, Muawiyah always refused. Eventually, ′Ali was murdered during his prayers.

To attempt justice and peace, Imam Hasan, the true leader of Muslims after ′Ali’s death, signed a peace treaty with Muawiyah on the 5th of Jumada I, in the year 41 Hijrah (661 CE). The following is a translation of the original treaty:

“In the name of God, the Most Kind, the Most Merciful. The following shows how Hasan Ibn2 ′Ali Ibn Abi Talib made peace with Muawiyah Ibn Abu Sufyan. He made peace with him on the condition that he takes over the command of the Muslims, rule them according to the Book of God and the tradition of His Prophet; that Muawiyah would not pledge the Caliphate to anyone; that the people would have peace wherever they live in the land of God, whether in Syria, the Yemen, Iraq or the Hijaz; that ′Ali’s companions and his followers, their persons, their money, their wives, and their children would be safe wherever they were; that Muawiyah pledges this before God; that he would harbor no evil or harmful schemes, whether in secret or in the open, towards Hasan Ibn ′Ali, his brother Husayn or any of the People of the House of the Messenger of God; that he would not terrorize then in any respect.”3

However, immediately after signing the treaty, Muawiyah said, “I trample this treaty under my feet!” He announced that he is creating the Umayyad dynasty and that when he dies, his son Yazid would succeed him as a king.

This goes against Islamic principles of election and justice in leadership in accordance with the Holy Quran and the tradition of the Prophet. Even though Muawiyah broke his agreement in the treaty and was going against Islamic principles, he warned his son, Yazid, not to kill Imam Husayn. Although Yazid wanted to rule the Islamic Nation and perpetuate his father’s Umayyad dynasty, he chose to ignore his father’s advice about Husayn. Muawiyah and his Umayyad dynasty operated by deception, bribery, bloody violence, and fear, and that is how his son Yazid forced the people to obey him as king.

🥀 Imam Husayn (as)

After examining all of the facts involved, it becomes very clear that Imam Husayn was fully aware of his situation. Because he was the grandson of Prophet Muhammad and the spiritual leader of the community, and Yazid was a drunkard, womanizer, and cold‑blooded murderer, the Imam had no choice but to stand up to the unjust Umayyad Dynasty.

The Imam even mentioned that if everyone were to pay allegiance to Yazid, “Say goodbye to Islam.” There can be no doubt that the Imam knew that if he had paid allegiance to a drunkard who was not qualified for leadership, the Islamic Nation would have fallen apart. That is why the Imam made it very clear to everyone that his mission was to save the pure principles of Islam and fight against the evil people who try to destroy its purity.

The Imam’s acute awareness of the political and social situation at that time is clear from his many sayings to the people and his sermons. Many times people tried to convince the Imam not to go to Kufah, but he always refused, even though he knew he would be killed. Also, on several occasions when the Imam’s camp was faced with a military confrontation, Imam Husayn refused the requests of his people to initiate a battle and kill the enemy. The Imam refused and chose to avoid bloodshed by any means possible. Furthermore, the Imam repeatedly insisted upon his followers to leave and save their own lives.

So, we can see that the Imam was not being manipulated by forces out of his control. As a matter of fact, he was conscious of every decision he made and he always thought carefully before making any decision, because his main concern was to preserve the pure spirituality of the Islamic Nation. In short, the Imam knew that the people did not fully understand how evil Yazid was, and he knew that the only way to awaken the people was by showing them how far Yazid would go to stay in power that he would even spill the blood of the grandson of Prophet Muhammad.

In fact, the martyrdom of Imam Husayn marked the beginning of the end of the Umayyad dynasty.

🥀 The Text

The following text is a free translation of portions of authentic historical documents into English, focusing primarily on English language equivalence of the subject, in meaning, rather than literal translation. The translation consists mainly of selections of text from Maqtal al‑Husayn, by ′Abdul Razzaq al‑Muqarram, but also includes portions of al-′Amali by Shaykh Abu Ja′far al‑Sadiq, and Mazarat Ahl al‑Bayt. Al‑Muqarram’s work, Maqtal al‑Husayn, was compiled from a variety of sources. It was chosen for translation because the author includes extensive references to his sources. For translation, the Hans Wehr Dictionary of Modern Written Arabic was consulted, and the Library of Congress System was used for transliteration of Arabic words.

The texts have been rearranged to conform to accurate chronological order and have therefore been divided into three sections: Before Karbāla’, At Karbāla’, and After Karbāla’. The only break in the order of events is chapter six, Muslim’s sons. Although they were captured after the massacre of Karbāla’, I feel it is appropriate to place them with the chapter of their father. Also, all references in the original to the Arabic words “Ahl al‑Bayt (literally ‘people of the house’) has been translated as “People of the House of the Prophet,” or, “the Prophet’s House.” The word Shi′a (literally, ‘followers’, referring to followers of the Prophet’s House) has been translated as “the Followers”, as a collective name for the group. For consistency, all references to the Holy Quran are detailed in a footnote by mentioning the Chapter (Sura) number and Verse (ayah) number. Sayyid Muhammad Husayn Jalali was consulted for accurate English translations of the original Arabic text. The map, by Hasan Husayn Jalali, is included to improve geographical understanding of the movement of Imam Husayn, as well as probable routes of the Umayyad Army between Karbāla’, Kufah, Damascus, and Medinah.

~ Ali Husayn Jalali

Chicago, 1994

•┈┈•⊰✿✿⊱•┈•💔•┈•⊰✿✿⊱•┈┈•

1. The Holy Quran, Sura of Ahzab

(33:33)

2. Ibn means ‘son of’.

3. See: al‑Fusul al‑Muhimmah by Ibn

al‑Sabbagh, p. 163

•┈┈•⊰✿✿⊱•┈•💔•┈•⊰✿✿⊱•┈┈•

🍂🥀🍂 al-Islam.org 🍂🥀🍂

#ahlulbayt #islam and shia #imam hussain #imam mahdi #fatima #imam ali #prophet muhammad #ahlulbait #fatima zahra #imam husayn

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educated-dumbass · 2 years

Text

Sapphic Book Masterlist

Quick Key:

🌻= found on Readanybook for free

🍄= I’ve read and recommend

🥀= on my tbr list

🌈= Send me an ask or direct message with this emoji and the book you want and I can likely find it in digital format for free. Be aware it is less secure than the Readanybook site. Please clarify if you’re using a phone or a laptop/computer. (Not including graphic novels)

Fantasy:

A Dowry of Blood by S.T. Gibson 🍄

Black Water Sister by Zen Cho 🍄

Darling by K. Ancrum 🍄

Elatsoe by Darcie Little Badger

Girl, Serpent, Thorn by Melissa Bashardoust 🌻

Girls of Paper and Fire by Natasha Ngan 🍄

In the Vanishers’ Palace by Aliette de Bodard 🍄

Inkmistress by Audrey Coulthurst

She Who Became the Sun by Shelley Parker-Chan

Sofi and the Bone Song by Adrienne Tooley

The Black God's Drums by P. Djèlí Clark

The Chosen and the Beautiful by Nghi Vo

The Dark Tide by Alicia Jasinska

The Gloaming by Kirsty Logan 🍄

The Mermaid, the Witch, and the Sea by Maggie Tokuda-Hall

The Midnight Lie by Marie Rutkoski

The Never Tilting World by Rin Chupeco

The Priory of the Orange Tree by Samantha Shannon 🍄 (it’s a bit overhyped but still very good)

The Terracotta Bride by Zen Cho 🌻

The Tiger’s Daughter by K. Arsenault Rivera

The Unbroken by C.L. Clark

The Unspoken Name by A.K. Larkwood

These Feathered Flames by Alexandra Overy

This Poison Heart by Kalynn Bayron

Vessel of Starfire by Allison Carr Waechter

When Women Were Dragons by Kelly Barnhill

Crier's War by Nina Varela

The Bone Shard Daughter by Andrea Stewart

Malice by Heather Walter

Girls at the Edge of the World by Laura Brooke Robson 🥀

Sweet & Bitter Magic by Adrienne Tooley

Each of Us a Desert by Mark Oshiro 🥀

The Midnight Lie by Marie Rutkoski

Amy of the Necromancers by Jimena I. Novaro 🥀

Ice Massacre by Tiana Warner 🥀

The Deep by Rivers Solomon, Daveed Diggs, William Hutson, Jonathan Snipes 🥀

Ghost Walk by Kay Solo 🍄

The River Has Teeth by Erica Waters

Graphic Novels:

The Girl from the Sea by Molly Knox Ostertag

Mooncakes by Suzanne Walker

Snapdragon by Kat Leyh

Tea Dragon Society by Kay O’Neill

Historical Fiction:

Fingersmith by Sarah Waters 🌻🥀

Last Night at the Telegraph Club by Malinda Lo

She Rises by Kate Worsley 🥀

The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo by Taylor Jenkins Re

The Once and Future Witches by Alix E. Harrow

Horror:

Extasia by Claire Legrand

The Final Child by Fran Dorricott 🍄

The Red Tree by Caitlín R. Kiernan

The Sawkill Girls by Claire Legrand 🍄

Where Echoes Die by Courtney Gould

Literary Fiction:

Solo Dance by Li Kotomi 🥀

Mystery:

Far From You by Tess Sharpe

Ghost Wood Song by Erica Waters

Missing, Presumed Dead by Emma Berquist 🥀

Sadie by Courtney Summers

Poetry:

Sappho 🍄🌻

Aphrodite Made Me Do It by Trista Mateer

Romance:

First Position by Melissa Brayden 🍄

Hani and Ishu's Guide to Fake Dating by Adiba Jaigirdar 🥀

Honey Girl by Morgan Rogers

Knit One, Girl Two by Shira Glassman 🥀

She Drives Me Crazy by Kelly Quindlen

Silk & Steel by Janine A. Southard

The Lady's Guide to Celestial Mechanics by Olivia Waite 🥀

The Music and the Mirror by Lola Keeley

The Soft Landing Collection: Sapphic Fantasy and Science Fiction Stories by Jacquelynn Lyon

The War Within by Yolanda Wallace 🍄🌻

You Should See Me in a Crown by Leah Johnson

The Falling in Love Montage by Ciara Smyth

Some Girls Do by Jennifer Dugan

We Are Okay by Nina LaCour

The Henna Wars by Adiba Jaigirdar

Sprinkled in the Stars by Violet Morley

How to Make a Wish by Ashley Herring Blake 🥀

Science Fiction:

A Memory Called Empire by Arkady Martine 🍄

Gideon the Ninth by Tamsyn Muir

Light from Uncommon Stars by Ryka Aoki

That Inevitable Victorian Thing by E.K. Johnston 🥀

The Cybernetic Tea Shop by Meredith Katz 🥀

The Traitor Baru Cormorant by Seth Dickinson 🌻🍄

This Is How You Lose the Time War by Amal El-Mohtar

We Set the Dark on Fire by Tehlor Kay Mejia 🍄

Compass Rose (Compass Rose #1) by Anna Burke

Light from Uncommon Stars by Ryka Aoki

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mikashisus · 1 day

Text

EMPIRE OF BLOOD

01. when does a man become a monster

TAGLIST ! @tragedy-of-commons @https-sourlimes @ughscara @yourfavoritefreakyhan @wystiix

NOTES: first chapter yippee!! i actually adore this chapter and it'll be hard for me to have a new fav chapter after this. i think the only chapter that could one-up this one would be the ball chapter, which... will not come until wayyy later. i already wrote half of it. this whole fic has been written out of chronological order LMAOO

WC: 4.3k

masterlist | next

You were eleven years old when you first killed a man.

The searing pain under your skin did nothing to help the immense shock you felt upon watching as the light left the man’s eyes.

With shaky hands that were stained entirely in fresh, warm blood, you released him from your grip and watched as his lifeless body fell to the ground. His head lolled to the side, his neck almost completely detached from the rest of his body.

The ghastly sight made you feel like you were about to vomit. You gagged, a few coughs following after before you wrapped your arms around your middle and hurled up your half eaten breakfast. More coughs followed and you wiped your lips with the hem of your ragged dress.

A sense of panic welled within you as you realized what you had just done. You scrambled away from the dead body of a Mondstadt nobleman. A few helpless screams left your mouth, loud enough to alert a group of knights nearby. Your throat was burning, your screams coming out in hoarse chokes.

Finally ripping your eyes away from the man’s maimed body, you stared down at your shaking hands. Your vision blurred as you tried to steady your breathing. It was to no avail. The air in your lungs felt thin, and your throat felt like it was closing up. Your lungs tightened, and it became increasingly harder to breathe.

At the lack of oxygen, you panicked even more. One of your hands reached up to claw at your throat, leaving trails of crimson stains in its wake.

A soothing voice pierced your ears amidst the loud ringing.

“You are not alone. I am here. Breathe. In… and out…”

You attempted to follow their instructions as best as you could. When your eyes opened, you finally caught sight of your savior— it was a green-clad figure. The voice made it hard to tell their identity, or perhaps they were just androgynous. The image of them was blurred from the tears gathering in your eyes, but you could briefly spot their lips pulling up into a kind smile.

You glanced behind them at the dead body. The air in your lungs felt thin once more. You wanted to leave, to run far away and never have to see such an ungodly sight ever again.

Fate had other plans as a comforting hand rested on your back. The androgynous figure was now gone, replaced with a dashing woman whose features were threatening in appearance only. Her pitch black eyes with crimson X’s in the center showed deep concern, accompanied by a frown.

She gently wiped the tears from your eyes. You blinked rapidly as she did so, the sharpness of her nails just barely stabbing you in the eye. You were able to get a better look at her now that your vision was cleared.

She was a most gorgeous woman, with fair skin and her hair a mix of black and white. She wore blood red lipstick that contrasted her skin tone. She wore a gray suit with black and crimson accents. The cuffs of her sleeves looked similar to swan feathers. A pin in the shape of a butterfly sat on her collarbone, the deep ruby red gems glowing like menacing eyes under the light of the moon.

Her hands, also black like the night, were careful as they settled on your shoulders. Three of her nails on each hand were painted red. The other two were black.

This woman appeared scary, but her comforting touch and her kind words were far from that. Just from her presence alone, you could tell that she was not a threat to you. She was not here to harm you or drag you into the knights’ custody.

You could tell just from her expression and her aura.

“Relax,” she whispered.

Her voice was authoritative, commanding, but there was an underlying softness in the way she spoke to you— as if she knew how to handle children your age. She brushed the hair out of your eyes.

“There is no need to cry anymore. There is no need to be afraid. You are safe.”

The kind words of this strange woman surged through you right to your heart. Your lip trembled, and your eyes gathered with tears once more. You shuffled towards her kneeled body, grabbing onto the blazer of her gray suit with fervor. You dug your face into her hold, your cheek resting against her stomach.

Sobs racked through your tiny body. She did not push you away like you expected. Instead, she knelt into a more comfortable position and gently patted your head as you cried.

You did not want her to leave. You were desperately hoping that this was not a dream. If this was a dream, it was a cruel one. A child of your age needed a parent right now, and your young mind latched onto the only adult figure that cared enough to show you sympathy.

“Shhh. It’s okay.” She shushed you. “I won’t be going anywhere.”

You snuggled into her further. Despite your attempts to cling to the only adult figure that showed you mercy and comfort, she did not reciprocate affection like a parent usually would. She had the ability to calm your nerves and soothe your mind, but she did not seem capable enough to coddle you like a mother would to her newborn baby.

She opted for little physical affection and let her words do the talking instead of her actions.

It was very fatherly. Not like you would know; you never knew your father— or your mother, for that matter.

“Come home with me.” She muttered. The words came out more like a statement, a demand, instead of a question. “I will raise you like a strict and unfeeling father.”

That was how you ended up in a foreign nation’s orphanage, more commonly known as the House of the Hearth.

The House wasn’t the best place. You came to find that many of the children were wackjobs— some more than others. But the orphanage was better than being thrown into jail for murdering a Mondstadt aristocrat.

The woman— Arlecchino, her name was —assured you that your background would be wiped clean. She promised you she would take care of everything regarding the matter of the aristocrat’s murder. You did not know whether to trust her judgment or not, but seeing as there was a roof over your head, food on your plate, and clean clothes at your disposal, you chose to trust her for now.

After all, this was the most attention you have received from an adult in your entire life. You never had more delicious food. In fact, you have never had this much food in your life. Instead of scrounging for scraps in alleyways and stealing more than a few apples from a vendor’s stall, you had three meals a day— including some snacks.

You no longer had one article of clothing. Arlecchino gifted you with lavish dresses that your younger self could only dream of wearing in her wildest daydreams. You were finally able to wash your body regularly without relying on the nearest river. In fact, you had a whole bathroom with a pristine bathtub, a fluffy towel, and hair and body wash that completely cleaned your whole body.

Instead of bunching up newspapers to sleep on and shivering in the brisk night breeze, you had a twin sized bed with comfy sheets and a bouncy mattress. Your pillow supported your head and neck, and you got a proper night’s sleep.

It was like a dream come true. You wondered when this fantasy would end. Indeed it did end— but briefly.

A few weeks after you settled in, Arlecchino came to have a chat with you. She ushered the other children out of the room and they obeyed without hesitation. She told you the first day she took you in to call her “Father,” to which you did so. But you couldn’t truly start addressing her as such when you did not know how a parent acted towards their child. It was something you would have to get acquainted with over time.

Of course, she was not going to force you to do anything until you were ready. Except this…

“This orphanage belongs to a Snezhnayan organization called the Fatui.”

She did not sugar coat her words, and perhaps that was a greater mercy than lying straight to a child’s face.

Your frown deepened. Ever so sharp, she caught the action. However, she said nothing. You let out a sigh and looked down at the polished marble flooring of the playroom. Your feet dangled off of the chair you were sitting on, not quite reaching the ground. You always were a bit smaller than your peers.

Perhaps it had been because of your previous living conditions.

A soft, “I see” left your lips.

You knew all about the Fatui. They paraded around the streets of Mondstadt as if they owned the place. The talk of the town always gave you information you wished to know. By hiding in the shadows and listening in on conversations, you quickly learned that the Fatui had close dealings with Mondstadt.

They were even close allies with impeccable trust five hundred years ago. The same could not be said today.

Today, they used Mondstadt’s mistakes as leverage for their own gain. You had been tossed around one too many times by a snobby Fatuus that barked at you to “watch where you’re going” and threatened to throw you in jail.

Their threats were no more than harmless jokes in your eyes. You did not care about their words. You were more scared of the Grand Master of the Knights of Favonius than you were of some high ranking Fatui officer. After all, what authority did a Snezhnayan officer have over a Knight in Mondstadt?

Nothing; Unless they blamed someone else for their wrongdoings and chalked it up to being another one of Mondstadt’s mistakes, further getting their Harbingers or even their Queen involved. That would then lead to foreign affairs with paperwork and more work that had the Knights complaining about how much they hated the Fatui.

“So you must be a Harbinger then.”

Arlecchino was surprised by your ability to catch onto things quickly. She silently praised you in that regard.

“Yes, I am.” She answered your rather rhetorical question.

“I know what the House of the Hearth is,” you heard about it a few times in passing, “you take in children from all over and raise them to be foot soldiers and sleeper agents for your poor excuse for a Queen.”

The way you spat out those words was commendable. Arlecchino couldn’t scold you for your raw display of distaste. After all, you were a child of Freedom. You were used to having free will and free speech.

“I would rather work as one of those deplorable Knights than be a part of your organization.”

Arlecchino decided she would let this one slide. You hadn’t become an official member of the House yet, so it was unfair to punish you for words of betrayal if you didn’t even officially belong to this organization. So… she let it get swept under the rug just this once.

Next time, she wouldn’t be so forgetful… nor would she show any mercy.

She opened her mouth, a deal ready on her lips, when you abruptly continued. “However… you have given me a bed to sleep on and healthy food with proper meals. You have given me a place to bathe and you even let me play with real toys. I suppose… living here wouldn’t be so bad.”

You were only a child. She thought you were a bit more mature for your age before, but considering how you completely disregarded the House’s initial purpose, she now believed otherwise.

You were looking forward to living in a real home with a real family. You did not consider that you were selling your soul to the devil— that you would be bound to this organization for the rest of your life. If you tried to leave, well… betrayal wasn’t taken lightly here.

“If you stay,” Arlecchino began, her voice stern like usual, “you can never return to the life of freedom you once lived.”

Was she giving you an out? It sure didn’t sound like it earlier. You searched her eyes, only to find nothing. She was adept at masking her emotions.

A sigh left your lips. “I would take here over how I lived before. I had nothing.”

“You had freedom—“

“How much of that did I really have if I was slowly dying before you found me?” You looked up at her, a hopeless expression dancing in your pupils.

She reconsidered her thoughts once more. Maybe you were smarter than what she gave you credit for.

With the deal sealed, she stood from her seat next to you and nodded curtly. “Alright,” you were now one of her children, “welcome to the House of the Hearth. From this day forward, I am officially your ‘Father.’”

The other children in the House were more than excited to have a new sibling. However, you wanted nothing to do with them.

To you, they were crazed animals with unusual interests and an unwavering loyalty to Arlecchino. Most of them, actually. Not all of the children saw her as their savior.

Even so, you were not intending to make friends or get close enough to call anyone your sibling. You stayed in your corner, staring at the wall more often than not, and wondering why you chose to stay.

It was not like you had anywhere else to go, though. You were a child, you could not support yourself in the real world yet. And if you were sent back to Mondstadt, who knew what would happen to you. You might not even make it that far out of Fontaine before getting killed.

Based on the way you mutilated that aristocrat though, you might have a chance. But your option to leave was now severed. You were officially a member of the House. If you tried to leave, you would lose your life. That was one of the most important rules of the House: betrayal was punishable by death.

Your legs dangled off the side of your twin sized bed. Gently knocking your feet together, you stared down at your flats. This was the first pair of shoes you ever owned, and Arlecchino had been the one to give them to you.

White with black lace trimming and a small black bow on top. The design engraved into the sides of the shoe resembled that of a swan’s wings. The flats fit you perfectly, as if they were made for your feet only.

A small smile graced your lips as you continued to study the shoes with a great deal of admiration. You would cherish these shoes with every ounce of care you had left in your heart.

Two figures stood outside the doorway to the bedroom that you shared with three other girls. Arlecchino had her arms crossed over her chest as she watched you silently. You refused to talk to any of the children, and although the desire to be alone was something she greatly understood, she felt a small ounce of worry settle in her gut.

If you did not make friends, then you would have no allies… and no allies in a world filled with threats coming at you from every angle meant you were completely alone with no one to help you in times of need.

Problem children were a common occurrence in any family. You happened to be the newest one on her roster. Your refusal to just about everything was beginning to make her aggravated. She tolerated it the first two weeks because of your upbringing and severe trust issues, but now it was getting out of hand.

Disobedient children had to be punished.

“Stop staring daggers into the back of the poor girl’s head.” The pompous voice of her coworker entered her ears.

Signora crossed her arms over her chest and sent you a sympathetic look. A sigh left her lips. “The poor girl. Another child abandoned by the Wind. If she harnesses that hatred and fuels it into revenge, she—“

Arlecchino let out a long sigh and briefly closed her eyes. “She has no need for revenge, Rosalyne. I am merely giving her a home. If she desires to be great, then I will make her great.”

The blonde woman let out a scoff. “Why am I talking to you like you’re a proper parent? You’re not even twenty years old yet.” She waved Arlecchino off. “No matter. I shall talk to her.”

With that, Signora sauntered her way into the bedroom. Arlecchino’s eye twitched involuntarily. The two did not get on like close friends, but Arlecchino still respected Signora greatly. She watched as the much older woman knelt down in front of you.

Maybe her words could finally persuade you to make some friends.

The sound of footsteps made you look up from your shoes. Your gaze met the icy cold eyes of a mature woman with long blonde hair that reached her knees, and rose colored lips. She wore a long, red and white dress that hugged her curves, with a slit on both sides, exposing her long legs. Her black heels clacked along the marble floor as she came to stand in front of you.

A large, white coat with black fur lining the hood hung around her shoulders. She was elegant and poised in everything she did, even as she knelt down to be eye level with you.

Her white earrings jingled at her movement, as did the chains on her winter coat. You did not know why she needed a winter coat when it was currently summer in Fontaine. Surely she had to be sweating right now.

Her gloved hands came to rest in her lap delicately as a kind smile tugged at her lips. You found it to be somewhat genuine. A trace of uncertainty laid underneath, like she had not smiled in years.

“My name is Rosalyne,” she spoke, her taunting voice entering your ears, “may I know yours?”

You hesitated. What was this woman trying to do? Did she want information out of you? You did not have any to give. Why was she here? A friend of your Father’s perhaps?

“(Name).” You muttered.

The woman, Rosalyne, nodded. “That's a beautiful name. What does—“

“Why are you here?” Your brows narrowed. What was she trying to achieve?

You barely knew her, and yet you could already read her like a book. She was not as kind as she seemed to be. She was holding up a mask, effortlessly hiding behind it.

Rosalyne huffed, her annoyance apparent with the slight twitching of her eye. She simply smiled. You were willing to test her patience to see how long she could keep up the nice guy act.

Instead of allowing her anger to take over, she took a deep breath. Her smile vanished, replaced with a frown that you assumed to be the real her. Her voice grew softer as she spoke.

“I was also born in Mondstadt.” That line alone grabbed your attention. “But I would not consider myself a child of the Wind like other Mondstadt natives.”

There was a passion in her voice, along with a deep rooted hatred. Every word that left her lips pertaining to the Nation of Freedom was spat out as if she could not even stand the thought, let alone talk about, her home.

You did not love the people of Mondstadt. They treated you like a disease. But the Wind always favored you. You found yourself curling up on the soft grass near the tree in Windrise more often than not. You even considered Windrise your home for a time.

The fresh breeze was refreshing. It cooled your skin and warmed your heart. It comforted you on nights where you could not stand to survive any longer. It wrapped its arms around you and gently shushed you when you cried.

You did not love the people of Mondstadt… but you sure as hell loved the Wind and the scenery of your home. You missed the open fields and the jutted cliffs. You missed the wide, cloudless, starry sky and the outline of Celestia in the sky when the moon crossed behind it.

You missed the afternoon breeze and the tolling of the bells on top of the cathedral. You missed dandelions, and picking fresh berries on sunny days. You would forever miss the atmosphere of the streets of the city, and the lively songs of the bards on each corner.

But you would never miss the people— their words spat in your face and the way they wanted nothing to do with you.

Unlike Rosalyne, you still considered yourself a child of the Wind. You thought of yourself as such because of your close connection and love for the Wind. You assumed she did not want to associate herself with the title because of some resentment she harbored towards the Anemo Archon and the people of Mondstadt.

You were indifferent in your thoughts about the Anemo Archon. What did it matter that he did not rule Mondstadt personally? The people could take care of themselves just fine without the guidance of a god. So why did some harbor hatred towards him for his absence?

To you, his absence was all you knew. Besides… didn’t he return every harvest season to bless the wine and the land? What more did the people want from him?

He had always been an absent Archon, as far as you were concerned, and you would much rather have him be absent than be a helicopter parent like Inazuma’s Archon.

“Do you miss Mondstadt?” you found yourself asking, out of pure curiosity.

Rosalyne’s pretty gray eyes widened significantly, before she looked away from you. She stood up and took a seat next to you on the neatly made bed. She shimmied out of her winter coat and folded it delicately beside her. She placed her hands in her lap.

“It has been quite a while since I returned,” she said. Her voice cracked a little, so fleeting you almost missed it. Her shoulders slacked. “But I wouldn’t say I miss it. I do miss the memories I made there… but that was a long time ago. Dwelling on the past won’t do me any good.”

You looked up at her, studying her stoic expression. There was a hint of sadness that flashed in her eyes, but it was gone as soon as it came. She cleared her throat, regaining her composure. You noticed her shoulders tense once more.

It seemed as long as she put up that mask, she could not fully relax.

Her tone switched to one filled with affection. “I have something for you.” She dug through the pocket of her large winter coat and sent you a smug smile. “Close your eyes.”

Instead of closing your eyes, you opted to turn your head away. You did not trust closing your eyes. The last time someone told you to… —no, you could not remember that now of all times. You wish you could forget it.

“Hold out your hand.”

You did as told. Something fluffy was placed into your hand, and you turned around to face her once more. Sitting in your hand was a wolf plush. It had gray fur and black beady eyes. Its tail was bushy, and its snout was long.

A look of confusion crossed over your face as you looked up to meet Rosalyne’s gaze. A genuine smile rested on her lips as she placed a hand on your shoulder.

“When your Father told me a child from Mondstadt arrived, I simply had to bring you a gift.” She told you, her voice dripping with affection akin to the kind a mother held for their child. “Since wolves are highly prominent to the nation, I decided on this rather than a Windwheel Aster.”

Truthfully, you would have loved any gift she gave you.

This was the first time you were ever receiving a gift. To say it touched your heart had been an understatement, as your lip trembled and you broke out into uncontrollable sobs. Is this what it was like to be thought of in a good light? Is this what it was like to be cared for and loved?

Rosalyne, who barely knew you for more than a half hour, had spent her own time and money on a gift for you when she did not know you yet.

She panicked a little as you cried, her hands reaching out to grab your shoulders. You could hear her mumble “what should I do” under her breath a few times before she pulled you closer to her and patted you on the back.

You eagerly wrapped your arms around her middle and dug your face into her side. Her whole body was oddly cold to the touch. A shiver ran down your spine from the severe drop in temperature of her body compared to Arlecchino’s extremely warm one.

Her bare skin was even colder. The gap in the sides of her dress that revealed her fair skin made that clear. As soon as your arm touched her skin, you pulled it back to rest on the back of her dress. The freezing cold lingered on your own skin for a while after, chilling you to the bone.

Her awkward pats on your head turned to slow strokes of her fingers through your hair, and her uneasy mutters turned to a soft hum of a lullaby from her lips. Her arms felt secure, like a warm fire in the middle of winter.

She cradled you as if you were her own, and in a hushed tone, whispered resolutely,

“We’ll show them. We’ll show them all.”

#— [ EMPIRE OF BLOOD 🥀 ]#dividers: saradika graphics #lyney #lyney genshin #lyney x reader #lyney x you #lyney x y/n #genshin #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x you #genshin x y/n

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