#— [ EMPIRE OF BLOOD 🥀 ]

[mikashisus]

EMPIRE OF BLOOD

01. when does a man become a monster

TAGLIST ! @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.” 

© 2024 mikashisus. do not plagiarize, copy, repost, feed to ai, or translate my works to any other platforms.

[thedeadthree]

THE SUN ON YOUR FACE ON YOUR SHOULDERS ITS GOLDEN MOUTH WHISPERING (SO IT SEEMS) YOU! YOU! YOU! — 𝐂𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐀 𝐕𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑. 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑡𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑟. (x)

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 (ask to be added or removed or interact 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞!): @griffin-wood, @queennymeria, @nightbloodbix, @anoras, @leviiackrman, @aezyrraeshh, @marivenah, @risingsh0t, @avallachs, @full---ofstarlight, @unholymilf, @statichvm, @socially-awkward-skeleton, @alltoowelltv, @lavampira, @adelaidedrubman, @grapecaseschoices, @shellibisshe, @carlosoliveiraa, @carrionsflower, @cloudofbutterflies92, @kyber-infinitygems, @pinkfey, @celticwoman, @florbelles, @shadowglens, @yharnams

[trashmouth-richie]

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 🥀 || 🥀 pt iv: as caelum vel infernum, tecum sum

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

☻ taglist: @joejoequinnquinn @fallout-girl219 @hellfireadmin @all-will-be-well-love @anythinggoesemily

@eddiesguitarskills @prestinalove @palomahasenteredthechat @wiltinglovers @razzeith

@workingwndrz @probablyin-bed @songforeddiemunson @avobabe87 @creative1writings

@liminalpebble @screaming-blue-bagel @spookyquinnbie @thewondernanazombie

[your-local-crypt1d]

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.

[arioloyal]

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!!"....

[emmy-hunterson-schofield]

Proserpina (Gladiator II)

**Also posted under same title on FF.net, Wattpad, and AO3, my username Mackaysgal 🏛️⚡️⚔️👑🌹🥀🌸🌺

*Art work created by Dorothy Elisa

She stood, dagger poised in her hand as she waited in Emperor Geta's bedchamber. Her fingers shook with a fearful tremble as she heard approaching footsteps on the polished marble floor.

Of the two appointed new rulers of Rome, everyone knew Geta was more formidable and unpredictable than Caracalla, who was so absorbed into his own insanity he was an easier target, according to her mother's information.

But she herself had volunteered to infiltrate the palace under the guise of a concubine, chosen by Geta himself for him to ravish and pleasure for his own satisfaction.

Her mother Lady Lucilla had begged her not to place herself in such a vulnerable position, but she had argued that she would be allowed the closest to Geta, nobody suspecting a petite waif to be a danger.

She would allow him to seduce her, give him the greatest night of his life... and as he slept, she would end his tyranny once and for all, for the good of the empire.

She refused to believe that her father had suffered and died for nothing... Maximus Decimus Meridius, whom she had never met, as she had been born many months after his death in the Coliseum. He was watching over her in Elysium, and she hoped he would have been proud despite her being a product of a brief impulsive tryst with his former royal lover...

He was now with his own wife and son in the Afterlife...

Geta's voice was muffled on the other side of the door as he ordered the guards away for a few moments, most likely desiring privacy with her and nobody to overhear them.

She concealed the dagger underneath her chiffon, in a sheath attached to her hip. Her head held high as she stood against the wall adjacent of the massive bed, she saw the knob turn and the swishing of Geta's extravagant cape behind his back as he entered the chamber, his back to her as he closed and locked the door behind them.

At last, he turned to face her, his long fingered hands removing the golden wreath crown from around his head before removing the regal cape from his shoulders, allowing them to drop carelessly to the floor as he absorbed the sight of her.

She opened her mouth to say something, but held her tongue, allowing him to acknowledge her first. 

Seeing him in closer proximity, she couldn't decide if she found him to be handsome or not. He was certainly taller than her by many inches as his dark shadowed eyes fixed on her like a tiger cornering a helpless deer.

Geta began to prowl closer to her, his eyes glancing her up and down and she tried to hold back a shiver of repulsion...

His blood-orange hair contrasted brightly with his pale ashen skin as she deciphered whether or not he was wearing some variety of powdered makeup on his face to emphasize the purple rings around his eyes that made him appear almost otherworldly in terms of masculine attractiveness. 

His actual eyes were ebony as the starless night sky as he at last stood over her, placing his hands flat on the wall on both sides of her head, his dark pupils dilated in overwhelming the brown of his irises and she felt a wave of sudden dizziness and she hoped he didn't see the motion of her shaking legs under her dress.

"How pleased I am to finally see you in front of my eyes, little jewel. Your beauty radiates through the entire chamber even in the shadows of night." His voice was soft and almost nasally as she recalled mainly hearing him shout with maniacal enthusiasm from the Coliseum stands as she wondered of his effort for the Roman people to hear him placed a strain on his throat. "I daresay, not all the fields in Elysium possess a blossom fairer than you."

But the sound of him speaking certainly made her want to go weak at the knees... not an act she was playing up, but the feeling she could tell was real as her breathing hitched in her windpipe.

"Are you nervous, my dear?" He raised his hand to her face, his cool fingertips caressing her chin. "There's no reason to be... unless you dare cross me..."

His other hand reached further down to feel her curves, supple and soft underneath her dress, his ringed fingers icy against her clothed thigh...

The sheathed dagger...

He froze in his intimate adoration, his body stiff and alert as he looked with a knowing scowl down at her...

His menacing hiss breezed against her agape lips as his mouth hovered above her own, his own plump lips sensuously tempting her to wonder what they tasted like, his teeth glistening like the fangs of a serpent about to strike. 

She looked up to see his lips stretching into a sinister smile like he could read right through her as though she was an open scroll.

"Is... is there something wrong, my Lord?" She whispered, the words regretful in her tone as she felt the sheath being removed roughly from her leg, revealing the weapon she had concealed now in his hand.

"Would you care to explain this, my little flower?" Geta softly asked her and she could hear the venom in his voice. "Was this your clever idea to seduce me and then carry out an assassination as I sleep?"

"I..." She stuttered, trying to come up with an explanation, but no words emerged from her mouth as she felt the tip of the cold dagger against her strap holding her chiffon up to her shoulders, as without it, the garment would plummet to her feet and she would be more exposed.

"Don't bother lying, as I've had spies everywhere uncovering any conspiracies against me and by foolish brother. You believe that I don't remember what happened with Commodus?" Geta moved the dagger from the strap of her dress and back into his tightened grip as he reached high above her and placed the weapon on a shelf where she wouldn't be able to reach with her shorter height.

"Commodus was a tyrant and didn't deserve to be emperor... and I think you're even more undeserving of such power than he ever was." She couldn't stop herself from speaking such thoughts aloud and it was too late to retract them as Geta menacingly pressed her body fully against the wall, entrapping her between the statuesque flame-haired monarch towering over her.

One of his hands clasped around her fragile throat, his thumb pressing above her trachea that she was certain a bruise would decorate her skin later, and his other hand placed over her mouth so she wouldn't scream, her gasping breaths blowing on the skin of his palm and he relished over her vulnerability...

"I'll make you regret every word you've spoken in this room, little one." His voice was an octave deeper, rough and husky with repressed rage and he kept her flushed against him. "Beloved Lady Lucilla, your dearest mother... and your half brother Lucius Verus, the original heir to the throne after Commodus... yes, I know all about them."

"No!" She screamed and struggled despite the restraint of his hand still muffling her noises of helplessness. "No...!"

"But not to fret, as you won't suffer yourself... and I won't touch Lucius... not until I make him slaughter your mother for all of Rome to see for her treachery. And I'll make you watch as he dies in the arena, as every drop of his blood will be on your hands, sweet nymph." Geta's hand reflexively squeezed her throat even tighter, his large hand holding onto her neck tight enough to truly hurt, cutting off her intake of oxygen and she moaned for breath underneath his hand still smothering her, his fingers almost covering her nostrils as she began to suffocate.

Her awareness and strength began to fade as black spots edged into her vision as she looked deep into the duel abysses of his fathomless eyes.

He was completely heartless and inhuman...

Her knees began to buckle and her entire body began to seize in a spontaneous reflex to try and free herself and regain the ability to breathe...

The smudging dots in her vision began to expand, encompassing her whole world as she felt herself fall deeper and deeper and she didn't care if she fell forever as long as the pain ended...

She knew nothing else but silence as the pressuring bondage of Geta's hands was removed from her throat and she took a desperate gasp of air and she collapsed into a swooning faint.

Geta hands held her still as she fell limp, her delicate arms hanging loose at her sides, the whites of her eyes visible for a brief instant as her eyelids closed, her hair cascading toward the floor and she was collapsed in the arms of the emperor.

He stood straight as he prevented her from landing on the hard floor of cold marble, his arms sweeping her up in his grasp, his heart confoundedly beating with uncertainty at what to do next as he held the fainted maiden to him.

He studied her close with a clinical and possessive intent as he looked over her physical condition. The purple bruise staining her pale throat was the shape of his thumb print and he smirked at the notion of leaving such a mark on her...

Geta listened to the innocence of her quiet breathing, her sweet lips slightly parted as she inhaled and exhaled, the rising and deflating motion of her bosom and stomach under her silken garment.

He had no idea why he had caught her whilst she fainted as he had every right to allow her careless plummet to the ground and risk her further bodily injury... she had plotted to kill him.

She deserved to suffer...

And he would make it happen as such.

He stood in the same spot, holding her limp body up in his arms, an idea coming to his mind as he made the few steps toward his large bed in long legged strides, effortlessly carrying his lovely would-be assassin in the matrimonial custom of a new husband holding his pure virginal bride and taking her over the threshold of her new home...

He laid her upon the bed, her body cushioned in the many animal fur blankets and silken pillows as she sunk gently into the mattress, her hair spilling in glorious swirling ribbons around her head as she remained lifeless, having still not awakened.

And Geta couldn't help admiring such a vision of traitorous beauty, all to himself for his admiration and amusement, in his bed. 

He sat down on the edge, his eyes staying on her peaceful face as he wondered if she was dreaming of anything in particular... maybe she was trapped in a nightmare of sand and carnage and screams of fallen warriors, all things he reveled in with juvenile joy.

He pulled out a glass vial from his royal robes, a concoction that he normally kept for himself for he suffered from having immense trouble sleeping...

But for her, he would give it to her to ease some of her agony, the merciful soul that he was.

She turned her head onto one side of the giant pillow supporting her neck and shoulders, a frightened moan escaping her lips as Geta hovered above her, his hand slipping under her head to raise her up, his fingers tingling at the feel of her feminine softness.

He held the vial to her half open lips, allowing the purple liquid to trickle into her mouth; a few drops dribbled down her chin and he swiftly licked them off her skin and lapped them onto his own tongue.

A potion of pomegranate flavor to sedate her and allow him to ponder with the idea brewing in his mind.

In aiding her to swallow without choking, his thumb once again pressed to her throat, but in a more gentle massaging motion and he felt the ripple of her throat muscles constricting. How breakable her lovely neck felt in his hands... how easily he could shatter her into pieces...

Her body began to relax once again and she sighed with a sweetened coo that brought a self-satisfied grin to his face at her submission into slumber...

She enraged him with her feigning oblivious intentions... and yet he wanted her.

He wanted her body and soul for all his own and not as only a mere mistress to warm his bed. 

He leaned over her sleeping form, the golden evening light from the skylight window dancing in patterns along her face, battling with his shadow as he was the ominous looming presence haunting a fair maiden in myth.

Pluto abducted Proserpina and she consumed pomegranate remnants from his hands... and Geta just made his own sweet flower do the same... binding her to him.

Their noses almost brushed as he whispered to her visage, his fingertips reaching to pet her long eyelashes resting on her scarlet cheeks. The back of his fingers stroked along her face, the sharp rings he wore above his knuckles scratching her skin...

"As for your punishment, little goddess... you will be my bride. You will be the most precious treasure of Rome and your beauty will reflect the glory of our empire. You will be loyal and faithful to me and birth my heir so our progeny will rule for fruitful eternity... you will be cherished by all who know you as they worship at the hem of your robes... and I will kneel at your pedestal." 

The tips of his calloused thumb traced along her open lips, violet and glossy from the tonic.

Geta leaned down to kiss her, her taste sweeter than the reddest wine and she remained still asleep as he carefully removed one of his rings from his fingers. He selected the smallest one he wore as it would fit her more slender hand and and he carefully slid the trinket onto her finger, keeping his hold on her hand as he stayed at his obsessive vigil over her in his bed.

His other hand stroked along the waterfall of her hair splayed along the pillows he had slept on earlier that morning and he mentally counted every movement of her chest as she breathed in a consistent pattern and he imagined what he would say to that wretch Lucius if he saw such a vision of the Emperor adoringly caress his sister.

A sneering smile crept along Geta's lips as he chuckled to himself, his eyes never leaving the woman laying in his bed. And so he spoke to her, in a sinister lullaby with a hypnotic note to his voice that floated into her ear and further clouded her spellbound subconscious.

"If you're dreaming about escaping from here, I would not trouble yourself, little one. Your brother sits chained in the dungeon and he won't be storming here to rescue you from me, for you're mine now. You belonged to me the moment you stepped onto the palace grounds... but not to worry, for no harm will come to you as long as you simply submit." Geta paused to position himself closer to the sleeping girl.

He laid beside her on the same pillow, his fingers running through her hair as his eyes hungrily lusted over her side facial profile... 

Her skin speckled with tanned spots and dotted freckles, like cracks in the carved statues of marble... her magnificence was flawed, but it mattered not to him.

His lips brushed her ear as he whispered entrancing words into her mind, verses of seduction and succumbing to his plans for her. 

"Sleep now, for your conqueror is watching over you in the darkness. Let yourself go further into the realm of Somnus for he will hold you in your dreams as I shall hold you in our bed, for my arms will be your shelter. Let go... and sink into slumber's waters... deeper and deeper as the moon shines on you." Geta whispered, his arm folding around her waist like a snake coiling their prey, his hand coming under her head to cradle the base of her cranium, her hair tickling the skin of his arm.

An owl hooted outside and she obeyed in her immobility, drowning under the influence of the potion.

Geta kissed the blush of her petal soft cheek, the tip of his nose brushing her own as he laid with his bride in his arms. Her rhythmic breaths the sound of music to his ears, the palm of his hand against her steady heartbeat as his ring on her betrothal finger glittered in the moonlight.

"Sleep as I command, my sweet Proserpina... my future empress."  

[fymo-blogs]

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:

[padawanton]

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

[non-cullable-mutations]

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

[loverandservantoftheahlulbayt]

🍂🥀🍂 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 🍂🥀🍂

.

[silcntxnight]

cw: mentions of underground fighting, blood, alcohol and violence

[⛓️] — @jinju-oc (🥀) @yosorina (🩰) @shin-haneul (📸) @livealittleoc-cb (🐉) @moonlightchn (🐺) @blogger-yura @minsour-r @moongoddesselene @reve-rv @shuhua-cb @doom-bc @fallenangels-cb @jeonsoyeonn @oc-empire @moonlit-nights-club @salacious-cb [dm -/+]

❌ 𝕱𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝕹𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 ❌

⛓️ Every now and again, my favourite dive bar has this fight night and with some bikers in town, I knew it was going to be dirty~ Nothing gets the blood pumping faster than a few shots of tequila, adrenaline rushing through your body as the crowd cheers for blood and the sweet, sweet taste of victory… well, bringing a werewolf does hinder that taste but it was a fucking fun night~

Booked a few clients, chatted to this one beauty and clearly Chris needed to blow off some steam so I’ll take the win~ just gotta make sure his missus doesn’t kill me for that pretty face looking a little less pretty haha

He landed a choice few of his own though… so you wanna come and patch me up?~

[mikashisus]

EMPIRE OF BLOOD

SYNOPSIS: after saving your life from death's clutches, your savior, the knave and fourth of the fatui harbingers, brings you back to fontaine with her. not quite realizing she brought back a monster, she raises you to stand beside her destined heir, lyney. nothing goes according to plan when years later, a traveler shows up, and suddenly everything you've worked so hard to build comes crumbling down within the span of a few weeks. and now arlecchino doesn't just have a phantom child to worry about, but a rebellious one with a swan song who plans on destroying all her plan b's.

PAIRING: lyney x fem!reader

CWS: foul language, violence, mild blood and injury, slight gore, mentions of trauma, angst, mentions of alcohol and drug use, mc sorta has a screw loose..

NOTES: this has been in my drafts for months— LITERAL MONTHS, but yona rigged the poll i posted (/j) so i'm posting it way earlier than intended. i do have a decent amount of chapters written, but i was hoping to have at least half of the fic written before i posted it. there will be slow updates! i’m a college student after all T-T

although this is a fem reader series, it can, in all honesty, be read as gn. the mc is described as having more feminine features, and use of ‘she’ pronouns r scattered around here and there. but ultimately, it can be read as gn!

playlist | her last dance playlist

01: when does a man become a monster

02: when does a ripple become a tidal wave

03: when does a comet become a meteor

04: when does a candle become a blaze

05: when does the reason become the blame

tba…

TAGLIST ! @https-sourlimes @ughscara @yourfavoritefreakyhan @wystiix @kvriealis @cherieiu

© 2024 mikashisus. do not plagiarize, copy, repost, feed to ai, or translate my works to any other platforms.

[educated-dumbass]

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

[empiressmpheadcanon]

1. Kindred spirits will find each other and unite once more in this world, as they do in every other world.

Server members

2. A dark spirit will consume the most vain rulers. Their joyful spirit turned evil by the promise of power.

Xornoth

3. A prosperous land shall be laid to waste. Streets will run red before the spires are toppled.

Referring to Mythland's ending

4. There will emerge a great northern palace unlike anything the world has ever seen.

The Great Matral Palace

5. A great betrayal will wrench the hearts of the rulers until a rain falls to cleanse the pain.

fWhip cheating for the crown

6. An heir born to the Ocean Empire shall be rare and exquisite. An amphibian of great power, the blue axolotl.

Lizzie, Ocean’s blessings

7. Two ancient sea-dwellers ruled the oceans long before human empires ever stood, each able to communicate with creatures of the sea. But should they leave the ocean behind, they are doomed to forget their true self and their past.

Sea-blings

8. Twin souls trapped in an endless battle since the beginning of time, chaos and order, light and dark, hot and cold. One can not exist without the other, for if one soul dies, the other is sure to follow.

Scott and Xornoth

9. Shaded by trees an Empire will be found.

Lost Empire

10. An Empire that commemorates the fallen will be blessed by bountiful luck.

Pixandria

11. The King of the Jungle will learn to defend his lands and people from slaughter.

Joey, Raptors(?)

12. A Master of the Magic craft will impart their knowledge upon eager peers.

Gem

13. A coronet will circulate the world, bestowing ultimate power upon the wearer.

Corruption crown(I don't know what to call it)

14. A father will become a boy once more.

Codfather, Codboy

15. The untapped power of unassuming cattle will be harnessed for nefarious means.

blood sheep?

16. A kingdom will emerge from capped stalks.

Gilded Helianthia

17. A short king will rise.

Joel, Shrub

18. Well-nourished flora will reach into the sky. It will require the dedication of a lifetime to nurture such a plant.

Katherine’s greenhouse, Pearl's beanstalk

19. Words spat through vicious mockery will sound strangely melodious from the mouth of a Mezelean.

Joel's diss track

20. A pursuit to chart the united lands will be fruitless and long

The Grimlands, Crystal Cliffs, Mythland, Gilded Helianthia(?)

21. A great source of knowledge will be lost to the memory of mortals, only to be utilised once more by the rightful heir.

Elven Library

22. Explorers will settle unforgiving landscapes and thrive.

Rulers searching and ruling their respective biomes(?)

23. The resolution of a neverending feud brings unimaginable chaos that will destroy the world.

Salmon and Cod

I think pages 24-29 will be in future episodes but here's what I think will happen

24. An old spirit will speak out, guiding one to protect the land.

Pix and Pixandria

25. The golden age will rise again.

Pearl's resurrection

26. Unrequited love will be requited.

Joey and Xornoth

27. A great awakening will occur at sunrise within the mangrove forest.

Awakening of the Wolf Girl

28. An honorable knight will return from their quest with an artifact of great importance.

Based on skins, it looks like Sausage is the knight

29. For a fungus, decay exists as an extant form of life. They are not gone.

I think it means that even if Shelby is a diffrent, uh, thing she's still a Fungus at heart

-🥀 this took me an hour pretty proud of it also this was not proofread honestly I think chapters 24-29 should be posted in empires s2 headcanons but i like it here

I think you’re right!

JSJSHSH

Rip :(

[mikashisus]

EMPIRE OF BLOOD

02. when does a ripple become a tidal wave

TAGLIST ! @https-sourlimes @ughscara @yourfavoritefreakyhan @wystiix @kvriealis @cherieiu @pixelcafe-network

NOTES: the first portion of this chapter has been sitting in my drafts for maybe 2-3 months now, i just didn't know how to continue it until now, and i'm more than pleased with the result! fun fact: i actually had to look up how to load and fire a musket for this chapter and it was actually really cool!! huge ty to @mitsvriii for proofreading this for me! <3

WC: 4.3k (we love to see consistency)

masterlist | prev. | next

The sun was partially covered by the clouds when you stepped outside of the House in the early afternoon. Distant rumbles of thunder echoed, and you lazily raised a hand to check for raindrops. 

It was too doom and gloom lately for your liking. Even though you loved watching the rain pitter patter on the streets of Fontaine from your bedroom window, it was hard weather to work in. 

Rain made missions harder for you. You couldn’t see your target, you couldn’t move as fast because your soaking wet clothes hindered your movement, and running in heels on slippery streets called for a death sentence. 

It was pleasant to look at and bask in, but not to work in. 

Your thoughts paused on one such topic: work. Without a moment’s delay, you secured your thigh holsters one last time and set off for the city’s forgery. 

Thunder continued to rumble, but there were no signs of lightning. You nodded approvingly at this fact, and your eyes went back to darting between the faces of the people passing by you on the street. You knew each of their faces, studied their names and appearances from the papers that Father gave you to read. 

Absentmindedly, you tapped your thigh as you hummed softly under your breath. Today was supposed to be your day off; Well, before one of your ‘siblings’ woke up with a fever and their mission was handed off to you. 

You usually didn’t take on information gathering missions. Everyone in the House was well aware of your previous failed attempts to do so from a young age. The only thing you were good at was carrying out the less than ideal dirty work– one of the so-called “darker” jobs in the House: assassinations. 

None of the other children favored your job; especially not Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet. 

Truthfully, you were one of the only children in the House who took on assassination missions. You were quick and thorough, never missing your targets. You could easily turn off your emotions and focus entirely on your tasks. Due to this, Father had no doubt in her mind that you could finish the job. All heavy duty work in that regard was passed to you without a second thought. 

If it crossed someone else’s desk, they immediately passed it to you. And sure enough, you would return at an alarmingly fast pace, claiming the work had been completed. 

It felt nice… having people trust you like that. It felt nice— feeling like you had power and strength. A small smile twitched at your lips. It was gone as soon as it appeared as you approached the forgery. 

The man you were supposed to meet was here already, chatting idly with the owner of the shop. They were having a lovely conversation about this year’s Weinlesefest in Mondstadt, which piqued your interest. 

You haven’t heard the mention of Weinlesefest in some time. 

“Oh, really? I had no idea Mondstadt had that kind of festival!” Came the man’s words. “Sounds interesting, though! Being able to brew wine with family and gathering together as a community to share drinks. Sounds like something I’d like!” 

“Weinlesefest, over the course of Mondstadt’s history, became a holiday to welcome the Anemo Archon, Barbatos, home during the harvest season.” You said calmly, walking up to them without a sound. 

The woman screeched in surprise, practically jumping out of her skin at the sudden appearance of another person. She placed a hand over her heart upon seeing you, and let out a heavy sigh of relief. 

You continued, “The people of Mondstadt brew wine and offer it up to Lord Barbatos. If he is satisfied with the wine, he guides a gentle breeze to bless the people. This is usually the time of year that Mondstadters living in other nations miss their homeland the most, because it is a holiday spent entirely with family and friends.” 

“Why hello, (Name)!” 

A pout settled on your lips as your superior, Childe, ruffled your hair with a bright smile on his face. A chuckle rumbled out from his chest as he greeted you softly just like he did every other time you saw him. You suspected it was because you reminded him of his younger sister. 

Although there was not much you knew about the Eleventh Harbinger, you did know that he had siblings and he was a very family oriented man. You wondered if that was the reason why Father respected him…to some degree, at least. 

“I see you haven’t changed when it comes to sneaking up on others! Your stealth is impeccable!” He complimented, removing his hand from your head. 

You raised a brow in surprise. “Hm? But I didn’t—” 

He abruptly changed the subject. It was a repetitive trait of his that irritated you. “Now back to that Mondstadt festival. How do you say it again? Vine…something?” 

Your eye twitched at his poor attempt to say the name. With a smug smirk on your lips, the word fell from your mouth effortlessly, as if you could fluently speak the language of Mondstadt, which was a fact that only you and Father were privy to. 

“Weinlesefest.” 

Childe’s brows furrowed. “How come you can say it so easily?” 

No one knew your origins, except for Arlecchino and Signora, but the latter was dead…and all of the secrets you shared with her were ones she had taken to the grave. As far as anyone else knew, you were a child of Fontaine. But you and Father knew the truth. 

“Father took me to Mondstadt a few times. After the first visit, I said I would like to learn the language of the nation, and she set up a tutor for me immediately upon our return to Fontaine.” 

Your lie, as ever, was flawless enough to convince him. He hummed in understanding, stroking his chin. “I see. I guess that makes sense.” 

With Childe, you had to amp up your deception. One slip up in your body language, a stutter in your words, or the wrong tone of voice, and he would instantly see right through whatever fabrication you tried to ensnare him in. It was like that with all of the Harbingers, but more so with your own Father. You had a lot of experience in deceiving her.

“But why Mondstadtian of all languages?” he questioned, “you don’t take me as that type of person. I think you’d enjoy learning Liyuen instead. Or maybe Inazuman—”

“Sir, we’re getting off topic…” You attempted to bring the conversation back to the topic of work. That’s what you were here for, after all. 

He laughed sheepishly. “Right! Man, you’re still a stick in the mud, huh? It’s always ‘work’ with you, nothing more and nothing less,” he sighed, “anyways. I was supposed to meet one of your siblings here, but it seems they’re not—” 

“I was sent in their stead,” you stated, “they got sick unexpectedly, so I took on their task for them.” 

“I see. Well, do you have the documents, then?” 

You nodded curtly. No matter what job was handed to you, you always took it seriously. Childe’s words were correct: you were always talking about work. Rarely did you ever discuss anything else with him. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust him, but simply because you had nothing else to talk about. You weren’t much of a talker, and you never have been. 

The first time you met Childe, it took him four hours before he was able to get you to say anything back to him, and even then, it was only because he brought up your position in the House. 

“I have them all right here.” You lifted your skirt a little to undo the clasp on your thigh holster, and pulled out a set of folded up documents that were given to you by Father. “I triple checked I had the right count before I left. All twenty-three pages are there in order, and the list of names on the last page has been rearranged in alphabetical order for your perusal.” 

His eye twitched. You’ve known him for how many years now and you still acted formally around him. It was tiring. He understood that you took your work incredibly seriously and you were acting professional, but you didn’t have to act that way around him. Around him, you could relax. But if you never did that before, he knew you weren’t going to start now. 

He let out a heavy sigh. “Great, thanks. Can’t wait to look over these later.” He absolutely despised paperwork. He’d rather be sparring with some of Fontaine’s champion duelists right now instead of participating in the business aspect of his job. 

A small snort left your lips. It was so quiet he thought he had imagined it, before he looked up to see you covering your mouth with your hand. He stood there, stunned for a moment, before his lips curled up into that smug smirk you were way too familiar with. 

“Did you just laugh?” 

This was the first time he made you laugh, and you knew he was going to hold it over your head like a vice now. 

You attempted to regain your composure, clearing your throat, but your uneven voice betrayed you. “N-No…I- I coughed.” 

“No, I’m pretty sure I heard a laugh,” he teased. “I finally made you laugh!” 

You took a deep breath and exhaled. Within seconds, the amused expression on your face was replaced with a stoic one. “Whatever you think you heard, you didn’t.” 

The way you could effortlessly turn off your emotions whenever you wanted was an ability he greatly admired. Even to this day, he still had trouble concealing his own emotions from others. He wished it was as easy as you made it look— as if it was second nature to you. 

Maybe it had been…but he was satisfied that at least for a moment, he was able to grant you a brief respite and drop the mask he knew you always wore.

Rosalyne liked to visit when she could. 

As it turned out, she became the only person you could trust in this awful place. When she had to leave you two months ago after your first meeting, you begged her to stay for just a little while longer. 

Surprised by your sudden outburst, she did all she could to calm you down, and she told you that she could not stay… She had to return to Snezhnaya because her work in Fontaine was finished, and the Queen was expecting her return in no more than three days’ time. No matter how many tears you shed, it didn’t make her stay. 

As soon as she left, you were left alone in Arlecchino’s care again, and the real training began. 

First, you were tested on all of your physical aspects: running, climbing, jumping, lifting, running while carrying weights on your back, and stealth. 

Arlechino watched over every single bit of your testing, a clipboard resting in her perfectly manicured hands. Her eyes were akin to that of a hawk as she picked out every flaw and talent. She glanced down at her clipboard as soon as you collapsed from the three mile run she had you take with weights on your back. 

A sigh left her lips. 

Jumping

Climbing

Lifting (weights)

Stealth

Running

Running (with weights) 

Marksmanship

Out of irritation, scribbled another line over ‘running with weights.’ 

She gazed over at your heaving, exhausted form. You were laid sprawled out on the grass, your chest rising and falling in step with your racing heartbeat. You could feel your head throb and your ears ring from the exertion. Your legs felt like jelly and sweat dripped from every pore. The loose clothing you wore stuck to your body, and the scent of musk and freshly cut grass entered your nostrils. 

You stared up at the sky, your mind blank as you watched it contort from brilliant blues to a soft pink and deep orange. Had you spent all afternoon out here? 

Your lungs were burning, and your mouth was dry. As soon as you got your hands on a bottle of water, you knew you were going to chug the whole thing down in three seconds flat. When you returned to the House, you were going to take a nice cold shower and wipe all the grime and sweat off your body. 

Arlecchino let out another stressed sigh. She definitely had her hands full with you. In an overly annoyed voice that she knew you could hear above the ringing in your ears, she shouted, 

“What did I tell you before? Laying down will only hinder your breathing more. Stand up and place your hands on your head to allow your lungs to open up.” 

As she jotted down some notes on her clipboard, she heard you whine and groan in protest. However, you obeyed her without tossing a backhanded comment. She was getting somewhere with you, even if she still couldn’t figure out what it was you were good at. 

Her eyes skimmed over the list again, stopping momentarily on the last bullet-point. She peered up at you again, studying your small build. She hummed thoughtfully before grabbing your attention with a firm “come with me.” 

Back at the House, she allowed you to shower first before leading you down a hallway you only passed by once when you first arrived. At the end of the hallway next to the supply closet was a room with an old wooden door that looked as if it was on its last leg. It let out an obnoxious screech as it creaked open, causing you to cringe. 

She walked inside and you followed behind her as you finished drying your hair with the towel in your hands. It was a decently sized, rectangular room with padding on the walls and lanterns hanging from chains on the ceiling. A row of guns and rifles sat to your left, all of them freshly polished and hidden inside a display case with a lock on it. On the shelf above the case were bullets and all the necessary cleaning supplies for a gun, as well as a jar of earplugs. 

On the far side of the room, just across from where you were standing in the doorway, were targets. All of them were beaten and battered from years of use. To your right were three chairs, all supposedly there for spectators. 

A glass wall separated you from the actual shooting area, with a lone glass door leading into it. One of your older siblings, Amélia, greeted you both from the other side of the glass. She opened the door and smiled warmly. 

“Good evening Father, (Name).” 

Arlecchino nodded curtly. “Amélia, perfect timing. Would you care to teach (Name) the basics of gun use?” 

Amélia was one of the only children in the House who was adept with guns. Her vast knowledge stemmed from the years she spent as the daughter of a champion duelist, before that very same duelist was bested in battle. 

She nodded, her eyes lighting up with enthusiasm. You watched as she took apart the gun she was previously using and gently set it back in the display case. She reached for another, larger gun and turned around to face you. It was sleek, wood polished over with a clear shine and silver that gleamed under the dim lighting of the room. 

“This is a musket,” she held it up for you to see, “usually, they’re only used in war nowadays. They’re not as popular as they used to be, but the Gardes tend to use them on occasion. We’ll start with this.” 

She handed you a pair of earplugs and guided you into the training area. She positioned you in front of one of the targets and handed you the musket. It felt heavy in your hands, and you struggled to keep a hold on it. 

She helped you, placing a hand on one of yours. “Yep, just like that! Now, you’re gonna take this,” she handed you a paper cartridge, “and you’re gonna tear that end part off.” 

You did as she told you and tore the piece off with your teeth, spitting it out elsewhere. She laughed softly. “You’re a natural already! Now, pour a bit of the powder into this pan…and wipe off the excess. Yep! Now, close the frizzen.” 

She helped you hold up the musket and pointed to the muzzle. “Now take the rest of the powder and pour it down the muzzle. Carefully seat the ball, and ram it with this–” she pulled out the ramrod, “yep– and then put it back. Alrighty! Now, stand here, hold it up so you’re eye-level, and fire!” 

She took her hand off yours and stepped back to allow you some space. You held the butt of the musket to your shoulder and pressed your cheek against it. You weren’t sure what it was exactly…if it was some sort of otherworldly power surging through your veins or if it was adrenaline that accompanied your fast beating heart, but the moment you readied the gun, your world shifted on its axis. It was as if there was something locked away deep inside you that was coming to the forefront, like it was breaking free from whatever cage that was holding it back all this time. 

The rest of the world around you faded away into nothing, leaving you and target alone in a dark plane of existence that was only visible to your sharpened eyesight. Only the target mattered, nothing else. Not the fear of failure swirling around in the back of your mind or the water that slid down your forehead from your wet hair. It slowly, agonizingly, trickled down the bridge of your nose and you rested your finger on the trigger. 

Time seemed to move slowly in those few seconds. It felt as if an entire eternity had passed before you finally pulled the trigger. You barely felt the recoil of the gun as the bullet darted out, but that was the least of your concerns. 

Precision was a lesson Arlecchino taught all of the children in the House, and yet in this moment, when it was a given that the bullseye would be missed, a deep-rooted instinct tucked away inside your heart was screaming at you that it would undoubtedly hit the mark. 

BANG! 

A perfect shot, right in the center. 

It was silent for a few moments as your concentration faded away. You stared, dumbfounded, at the target, before you glanced down at the musket in your hands. 

An eerie clapping drew you out of your stupor, and you turned around to face Arlecchino. She wore a satisfied smile. There was a smugness around her, as if she had also known that you would hit the bullseye. 

Amélia took the musket from you, a look of pure amazement in her eyes as she shook your shoulder. You couldn’t hear what she said above the ringing in your ears from the adrenaline rush you were coming down from, but you could only assume it was words of praise, judging by her excited smile. 

Once she was gone, Arlecchino placed a hand on your shoulder. “We’ve found where your skills lie. Now, it’s time to hone it.” 

A few weeks after your discovery in the shooting range, you received a letter in the mail. One of your brothers, Louis, slammed the door as he rushed inside, carrying the entire House’s mail in his arms. He dropped it onto the coffee table in the common space and plopped onto the ground in front of the lit hearth. 

You sent him a glare. “Some of us are trying to read.” 

He ignored your cold stare and rifled through the mail, separating everything into piles depending on whose name was on the address. Father’s, naturally, had the biggest pile. It was hardly a surprise, as most of her mail was sent directly from Snezhnaya to the House and consisted of hefty amounts of paperwork. 

Louis paused on a strange envelope, his brows raising in utter shock as he called your name. You answered in a mutter, too focused on the crime novel in your hands to worry about what it was that he wanted from you. 

“You have a letter…it’s from a Miss Rosalyne Lohe—” 

You snatched the letter from his hands and abandoned your book on the sofa as you stood up and ripped open the envelope. An elegantly crafted necklace and a letter fell out. You gasped softly at the gorgeous craftsmanship of the necklace. A pristine, golden chain with a cecilia flower carved out of glass and hand-painted dangling from the middle. 

Jewelry of this quality could only be purchased by aristocrats. Never in your life could you ever have the money to purchase something like this— only in your wildest dreams. You didn’t know how long you stood there staring at it in awe with your mouth open, but it must’ve been a few minutes judging by the confused stare on Freminet’s face. 

Freminet was another one of your brothers. He was a few years younger than you, and based on what you learned about him from the loud-mouthed Louis, he had supposedly been here before Arlecchino rose to the position of The Knave. He was a kindhearted boy, if not shy and quiet much like you. You found that although you were content to ignore your other siblings, Freminet was welcome company. 

And just like you, he didn’t excel in most things. When you first asked him what it was that he specialized in, he said, “Nothing, really. I do like diving, though.” 

“Is everything alright?” He questioned. “Amélia says that if you keep your mouth open too long, bugs will fly in.” 

You closed your mouth immediately and turned your attention back to the necklace in your hands. To avoid further disruption, you ran to your room to read the letter Rosalyne had sent you. Sitting down on your bed, you pried the carefully folded parchment open and began to read. 

“(Name), 

The weather in Snezhnaya is tolerable, I suppose, but I would much prefer to be relaxing on a Fontainian beach with a cocktail and a good book in hand while I soak up the Summer sun, instead. 

The Knave has told me you finally found something you excel in. Congratulations! I hope your training is much to be desired. Guns are handy companions if you know how to properly wield them. I never saw the appeal when I can just use my hands, but if a gun is what you desire, then I wish you the best of luck moving forward. 

The Tsaritsa has tasked me with a mission in Mondstadt. Although returning is a burden, I do suppose it’ll be pleasant to take in the scenery once more… Even if the Wind’s influence is practically crawling everywhere. It’s a shame you could not accompany me, but you have your priorities, and I have mine.

I sincerely hope that the next time we meet, you can show me how much you have improved. I will be awaiting results until then. 

As for the next time I step foot in the City of Bards, I hope you are there with me. Until then, take this token I commissioned from the best blacksmith in Mondstadt. I thought it only right to get you a gift. 

Best,

Rosalyne” 

Standing in front of the full length mirror next to your bed, you pushed your hair aside and clasped the necklace around your neck. It sat delicately on your collarbone, and you fiddled with the cecilia flower, feeling all along the crevices and grooves of the finely crafted jewelry. 

An absentminded smile tugged at your lips as you admired it, before a loud yell sounded from the common space. You flinched and let out a sigh. 

Waiting in the common area was Arlecchino, with two children huddled behind her legs. They looked to be about your age, with near matching hair and eyes the color of amethysts. 

You studied them intently, taking in the appearance of the girl first. She had darker, gray hair than what appeared to be her twin brother, and a deeper shade of violet eyes that were a bit sunken in from what looked like exhaustion. She had longer lashes than him, too, and a set of gray cat ears and a swishing tail. Her lips were drawn into a thin line. Her eyes scanned the whole crowd, calculated and piercing. Her shoulders were tense as she kept a firm grip on Arlecchino’s pant leg. 

She reminded you of yourself in a way. 

Meanwhile, her brother had faded blonde hair and striking violet eyes that pierced through your soul when you met his gaze. There were bags under his eyes, just like his sister. He didn’t have any animalistic features, but his pupils were pulled into slits— exactly like a cat’s. There was a certain mischief that laid deeper in his gaze, behind the apparent nervousness that currently shone in them. 

That was enough to tell you that even though he didn’t have the ears and tail to back it up, he had other features that declared how cat-like he was. 

Upon meeting your eyes, his chapped lips pulled up into the slightest of smiles, and his eyes were now shining with a newfound wonder. You returned his smile with one of your own and sent him a small, friendly wave. 

“This is Lyney and Lynette,” Arlecchino announced, placing each of her hands on their heads, “welcome them with open arms.” 

Just like the day you first laid hands on a gun, your whole entire world tilted on its axis, and it was all because of a boy with a cheshire smile.

© 2024 mikashisus. do not plagiarize, copy, repost, feed to ai, or translate my works to any other platforms.

[educated-dumbass]

Books with Unique Names

Quick Key:

🌻= found on Readanybook for free

🍄= I’ve read and recommend

🥀= on my tbr list

Fantasy:

The Lighthouse Witches by C.J. Cooke

Under the Whispering Door by T.J. Klune 🥀

The Bone Orchard by Sara A. Mueller 🥀

The Infinity Courts by Akemi Dawn Bowman

House of Hollow by Krystal Sutherland 🥀

The Wide Starlight by Nicole Lesperance

An Enchantment of Ravens by Margaret Rogerson 🍄

Creation of the Gods by Xu Zhonglin 🥀

Lies We Sing to the Sea by Sarah Underwood

Beasts of Extraordinary Circumstance by Ruth Emmie Lang 🍄

Spin the Dawn by Elizabeth Lim 🍄

1Q84 by Haruki Murakami 🌻🍄

The River Has Teeth by Erica Waters

When Women Were Dragons by Kelly Barnhill 🥀

The Terracotta Bride by Zen Cho 🌻

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

In the Vanishers’ Palace by Aliette de Bodard 🍄

Girls of Paper and Fire by Natasha Ngan 🍄

A Dowry of Blood by S.T. Gibson 🍄

Mystery:

The Athena Protocol by Shamim Sarif

None Shall Sleep by Ellie Marney 🥀

The Drowning Summer by Christine Lynn Herman

The Forest of Stolen Girls by June Hur 🥀

Missing, Presumed Dead by Emma Berquist

Historical Fiction:

The Dictionary of Lost Words by Pip Williams 🥀

The Man Without Qualities by Robert Musil

Valiant Ladies by Melissa Grey 🍄

Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck 🌻🍄

Last Night at the Telegraph Club by Malinda Lo

Horror:

Where Echoes Die by Courtney Gould

Fiction:

Lord of the Flies by William Golding 🌻🍄

Poetry:

Turtle Under Ice by Juleah del Rosario

Aphrodite Made Me Do It by Trista Mateer

Romance:

Requiem for Immortals by Lee Winter

A Whisper of Solace by Milena McKay 🥀

The Lady’s Guide to Celestial Mechanics by Olivia Waite

Science Fiction:

The Windup Girl by Paolo Bacigalupi 🌻🍄

City of Shattered Light by Claire Winn

An Unkindness of Ghosts by Rivers Solomon

The Calculating Stars by Mary Robinette Kowal

The Traitor Baru Cormorant by Seth Dickinson 🌻🍄

The Cybernetic Tea Shop by Meredith Katz 🥀

That Inevitable Victorian Thing by E.K. Johnston 🥀

Light from Uncommon Stars by Ryka Aoki

A Memory Called Empire by Arkady Martine