#Cleon 13th

[anundyingfidelity]

INTERROGATION GONE WRONG – Cleon XIII/Brother Day

Summary: Cleon XIII interrogates his statisticians about Hari Seldon's predictions. His in-turn maid remains there hearing the conversation, unbeknownst to him, knowing the answer - at least part of.

Pairing: Cleon XIII/Brother Day x female maid reader.

Word count: 2.9k.

Warnings: extremely dub-con, smut, abuse of power, forced orgasm, choking, fingering, degradation, p in v, creampie, not the soft aftercare you're waiting for. The author is also non native English speaker.

Notes: this is based on that scene of 1x04. This is the most non-con thing I've written ever. I gave my warnings. Also please watch Foundation lol, this show reminded me of how much I loved Lee Pace since like 2014. Once I'm in, I will never get out and I needed to write something for Cleon I love him he is an idiot.

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

GEN MASTERLIST!

The man fell with a thud on the floor. You should be scared, surprised, trembling with fear, but this was not new behavior for you or anyone in the palace. Since Seldon's exile and the disaster shaking the Empire gradually, the response of the new Cleon was clearly expected after being a witness of a poor reunion and inconvenience with the staticians. More than a conversation, it felt like a judgment, a death one.

"Dining, now," he ordered passing by your figure on his way to leave the throne room. With a bow, you followed in an instant and ready to serve him.

Cleary, you could tell he was not in the good mood that day, already skipping the meal for breakfast with his brothers earlier; something that was out of the itineraries. Once a change of the routine happened, it meant something was off, so you thought. Demerzel was also not around, attending other meetings, so this left you alone with Empire, opening the door of the sole dining room the Brothers used privately, with the tall figure of Cleon XIII waiting impatiently for his midday meal and looking every move you made around the place to please him as fast as your feet allowed.

The cooks served the meal arranged from the menu after your order and they left as rapid as they came in, Brother Day dispatching them with a hand gesture once they were done. You took a couple of steps back, standing close to the table but ready in case he dispatched your presence as well.

"Not you, you stay," he commanded after sipping his wine for the first time, eyes focused on the plate he would eat.

"Yes, Empire."

You had to obligue, and that is what happened. You watched him from the corner of your eye, from time to time in silence, pretending to be unconcerned and collected, though that was far from being true. The whole meal time was eternal, specially that day. With no Brother Dawn nor Brother Dusk around for Brother Day to have a bland talk with, only the sound of fine cutlery clinking against porcelain as Empire ate. Boring, your head began to spin around, thinking in non-senses and theories of what you heard and read from Seldon's predictions of the fall. Empire was cruel, but it had you working, serving food to your plate, and probably that was enough. But it didn't stop your curiosity of learning further the philosophy of Hari Seldon.

When in front of Empire, your gaze seemed lost but your mind was working. You never said a single comment about studying Seldon's theory, of course. You were just a maid. Science and university never were a good pair for a woman who served the Empire. However, you still found the math behind his calculations as something intriguing and fascinating for some reason...

"Maid," the loud voice of the Emperor interrupted your daydream. "I said, wine."

The intense look on his eyes forced you to attend his order fast, serving more of the fermented liquid on the cup standing besides his plate.

His large hand took the cup when you filled it with wine and he sipped again, his eyes scanning you slow and deep. You knew he sensed something was wrong with you. Swallowing, you noticed he already had finished with his meal, so you finally you dared to speak.

"Can I retire your plate, Empire?"

"Is there something you want to share, maid?" he responded, blatantly ignoring your question and dragging your title like it was nothing but a shameful word to spill.

"At all, Empire," your voice came as a whisper.

Brother Day stood on his feet with such grace and started a slow walk towards your figure. You wanted to step away, but you feet were glued to the ground, so his tall and intimidating form washed over you soon.

"Speak," he instructed coldly. You started to tremble, unable to take off your scared eyes from him, bitting your bottim lip as he leaned. "Or do you want to be punished?"

His hand forced around your neck all of a sudden. As an act of reflection, you tried to pull back from his grip, but he was much stronger, having you in place and cutting your breath. "I know you hide enthusiasm around Doctor Seldon's theories," he whispered darkly on your ear. "I am not giving you a choice, speak!"

As he yelled down his last words, he pushed you harshly, body falling to the grown. Air filled your lungs once again and you coughed, sitting down and watching that he was coming closer with big steps. You dragged yourself on the floor using your hands and feet trying to not tangle yourself with the fabric of your dress. Fighting the tears on your eyes, your back touched the wall and sobbed. There was nowhere to go now. So you finally confessed.

"Your staticians would not give you a number because it's true!" you cried out. Brother Day stopped on his tracks just a couple of inches before you. "It's all true, Doctor Seldon is right. And it all began with the Star Bridge, I know you were a child when it happened because I was a child too when the crisis started. There is a probability, but is not zero," you said, recalling his words.

You saw his face changed. He was exhasperated already, but rage appeared in his eyes in a very visible way; a rage that you had yet to see from Empire. Fear took over you, afraid of what would happen next. Should you keep talking? Should you continue crying? Scream for nobody to come around for your sake? As you questioned yourself, he lowered himself to be at your level on the ground. Brother Day never sat down, but he was making sure to get under your skin. His powerful gaze had a quick effect to do that.

"Go on."

Too scared to speak, you opened your lips but no sound came out. Empire waited your words for a moment, scrutinizing your face. And still, nothing came. He grabbed your arm with a rough grip, forcing you to stand up, colliding with his body until your back hit the empty part of the table he had been eating in.

"You have ten seconds to continue or I will force everything that is in your head out of you, maid," Cleon threatened. "Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three-"

"I said it was probability," you shuddered. "Life is a probability by all means and Seldon knows that," you breathed, aware that Brother Day was feeling your shaking body under his piercing eyes. "I studied Doctor Seldon's psychohistory and theory for the last four years, learning math and other sciences on my free time on the library. So even if I don't posses a title, I know his hypothesis was only that at the time; a hypothesis can be null, but also be provable, and thus now is not untrue."

He slowly leaned away.

"So you say there is no error on Seldon's ecuation," he concluded, jaw clenching.

"None that I could find."

Brother Day paced in front of you, back and forth, hrad processing what he just heard. You could tell he was getting what he wanted, but nothing was what he really longed for. And what you found was nothing but the truth. Maths don't miss, it was useless to lie.

"How do you simply fall into a conclusion like that? Prophecies of the Empire declining into a dark age after centuries of rising. Of our legacy!" he stopped again and went back to your figure, trapping your body between himself and the dining table. You felt his breath when he leaned close, the smell of wine and fruits mixing with his cologne was intoxicating your nostrils as the last tears flowed down your cheeks. Sooner or later, you thought he was going to end up with your life. You had nothing left to lose by now.

"It's simple history and logic. Everything that goes up has to go down, even empires."

All you felt was his big palm slapping your face, your back hitting the edge of the table. A hurted moan filled the room, and he forced you to look at him grabbing your chin with the same strenght he had used on you all this time, like you were nothing more than a doll to play with as he pleased.

"In other circumstances, I would find you amusing," he breathed gainst your lips. The touch of his thumb on your cheek, wiping away your last tears, contrasted the roughness of his words, his body between your legs and his weight pressing you to lie down on the surface.

"Psychohistory words, not mine," you whispered, your hands running to wrap around his wrist, but his aura repelled instantly your touch. It was useless to keep trying. So here you were, ready for Brother Day to end with your life in just the blink of an eye. "Maybe Brother Dusk made a mistake," you continued, giving up on leaving the room alive. "Make Hari Seldon stay instead..."

Brother Day pressed further against you, almost crushing you with his significant huge frame.

"Such a talented brain and mouth, why don't I put you to good use? I think I deserve it."

He forcefuly turned you around until you were bending over the table, a loud gasp falling from your mouth. One of his hands making its way between your legs caused your thighs to press together, trying to stop him, but it was impossible, so you had nothing to do but beg.

"Please, Empire," you felt like crying again at his touch, his fingers cupping your clothed pussy in a slow motion. "Stop, please-"

"Shut up, whore," he grunted, rubbing his crotch against your ass and slammed your face with his free hand so you had your cheek lying against the cold surface. "I had enough from you."

Heartbeat rising, you tried with no results to escape from his body cage. The sway of your hips caused Empire to grow eager. His slender fingers pushed your panties aside, coating them with your own wetness, and that was certainly something you did not expect to be down there. He hummed in response, rubbing your folds, and you exhaled once he entered one finger.

Your body responded to his ministrations, his growing erection pressing against the curve of your ass while he played with your cunt as he wanted, easing a second digit inside your walls. Probably you should just give in by now as you felt your muscles tighten, already reaching your high. Almost. The first moan of pleassure escaped your throat and you regreted the answer of lust coming from your body the following instant, your palms holding yourself on the table.

His long digits fucked you faster and your legs trembled, his thumb played with your clit so deliciously you thought you were passing out soon. He leaned down until you could feel his breath on your neck.

"Fucking take it," he groaned, feeling your warm walls pulsing around his fingers.

Almost not having control over your body, your legs further opened, like his voice just ordered you to do it.

"Please, please..."

Again, you cried and begged, not sure of the reason. For pleassure, shame, mercy... Anything was possible at that moment as whimpers and moans fell from your mouth.

The sensation grew stronger down your belly, feeling him exploring your insides too deep, touching a place no man nor your fingers reached before. It happened repeatedly, it felt so sweet and sinful. Like something you never knew but you were sure would leave you aching for more. His fingers making you so drunk and pleading for a release, and the seconds that passed by were endless until you finally blissed out with a loud moan, convulsing by the work of his hand.

Brother Day gave himself a wicked smile, watching you squirm and gasp. Such a strong orgasm he ripped out of you. He pulled his fingers away from your pulsing cunt and admired your wetness coating them before he raised the skirt of your dress and took off your panties until they were hanging between your ankles.

You grimaced at the feel of his big palms rubbing your ass cheeks, parting them to get a view of your throbbing heat, still clenching around nothing. You could listen to him undoing his pants. He hissed, taking his hard lenght to rub the sensitive skin of your ass and his thick tip teased your slit, sliding slowly inside. You gasped at the sudden intrusion as he stopped from filling you up completely, feeling your tight cunt embracing him.

"Empire, please not this-"

"This is how I prefer you," Cleon whispered on your neck, you stopped your plea. "Submissive and quiet. You are not so bold now, are you?"

And he slowly entered your pussy further. You whined, nails scratching the fine material of the table. You were so tight and warm. He had to control himself of not pounding into you right away. Being filled up by the Emperor shouldn't arouse your body like this, but your heat welcomed his cock like it was the perfect missing piece of a puzzle.

"Are you a virgin, maid?" he asked, hips giving a couple of shallow, slow thrusts. Your hips moved in sink with his own, your nipples were now hard and erect against the surface, scratching the fabric of your bra and dress, giving up into heavenly bliss. Sweet mewls left your lips as he stretched your cunt. And it was oh, so long since you felt this full.

"No, Empire."

Your response was the green light. He started to rut into you. Rough. Even if your answer was to be different, you knew Empire would not care. He used to get away with what he wanted, and right now he wanted you. His own grunts made eco along with the sound of his skin hitting your ass, your moans escaping without any shame now. The small amount of discomfort he caused was transformed into pleassure and arousal, keeping his hands firmly on your hips.

"Then you can take it, you've done this before," he mocked, increasing his rough pace.

His grip was strong on your sides, you knew his fingers would leave marks on your skin once you finished. But nothing mattered, you decided, the only on your mind was reaching sweet climax and release. You could not escape from him, not ever. So your body and mind could go through it.

Cleon's eyes found the perfect spot of view to see his cock entering and sliding out your perfect pussy, his shaft glistening with your wetness and his own precum. He stopped and pulled out for a moment, teasing with entering and pulling out, watching himself sliding inside your body.

"Oh gods," he listened to your broken moan, breath hitching.

He again cupped your neck with his palm, fingers roaming around your throat, forcing your back to meet his chest. Your moans were cut by his firm hand, air being a privilige as seconds passed by. He sucked and bit the skin of your neck, burying his cock until his balls met your ass repeteadly, finding that sweet spot of yours.

"Cum," he ordered. "Cum or you will not breath again."

You knew you were close, but you needed it faster. You needed to breath, as good as his cock felt, fucking you and splitting you open, you still needed to make it until the end. Your fingers found your clit and played with your bud as Empire bucked his hips fast and rough. Finally, your muscles tensed and forced a hard orgasm out of you, walls pulsing around his dick. He grunted, not slowing his thrusts, softening the hand around your neck allowing you oxygen again.

"Merciful am I?" he groaned and you felt his seed painting your insides, cock throbing as he also came from his high.

"You are, Empire," you breathed out.

Your back arched and you held yourself on his hands and chest. You heard the sound of one of the chairs being taken out, being dragged by him until you felt he sat down, you on his lap with his cock still burried deep inside you. His slick cum ran down your inner thighs as he parted your legs, touching your abused cunt and clit, feeling how you were still connected. He rubbed your pussy in slow, gentle moves, collecting his cum mixed with your juices. He offered his fingers to your lips, so you licked them as he wished, sucking them clean. Your walls pulsed again.

"So obedient now," Cleon purred.

His hands undid your dress to free your chest, groping your tits as he pleased. He played with your nipples, just like he had played with all of you in a few minutes.

"What will happen to me?" you asked in a murmur.

"Such a pretty cunt you are," Brother Day began, tracing kisses on your shoulder. His voice made you shiver. "You would please me a lot as a cuncubine of the Gossamer Court."

You swallowed hard, not capable of speaking or fighting back. He felt your body tensing so he continued his speech in your ear. "No worries, I can play with you some more before it happens. And you will tell me everything you know about Seldon."

[mind-travel-er]

The Sun's Course [Part 1]

the empire's slumber

— Pairing: Brother Day (13th) x Female reader

— Synopsis: A story in which a Genetic Engineer is recruited by Brother Darkness, in secrecy. At the wake of his death and the rebirth of his Dynasty, Cleon The Painter dares to ask questions. However, Brother Day (12th) won’t tolerate to bring those matters into the light, and especially by the one person capable of understanding its ramifications. You. 

— Warning/Content: Hurt/Comfort, Cleon 13th, Touch-Starved Cleons, Character Study, inspired by S01E03.

— Word Count:  2.7 k

[read me on AO3] · [PART 2]

12,086 Era Imperial | 19 years after the fall of Star Bridge | Rule of Cleon the 12th; The Ruthless “It is treason,” you say. “I know,” answers Brother Darkness, gazing at the glass separating him from his younger self.  There, in a tint of sky blue that only Surfacers had seen, was floating a little cloud. The fetus of Cleon the 14th. “That’s precisely why you are here.

You look at the rumpled traits of the third brother, in his simple linen gown made of ocean. If his younger counterparts were wrapped in royal blues, it seemed that with age, the specter of the color was sinking deeper and deeper, like his melancholy. But it’s not only age that shrivels the face of Brother Darkness. There is a glint in his eyes that only comes with the dread of one’s end. The glint falls on you. “Will you do as I ask?” Your ears have to devote themselves to truly understand his words. “Of course, Empire,” you respond before your next heartbeat. One should not refuse Empire. No one dares. And you have to close the parting of your lips and compose yourself; rewinding his request in your head. As if he were asking permission. Hands clasping the strap of your medical kit crossing your chest, you turn yourself completely towards him, making sure your eyes don’t falter when looking into his own: “I will do as you ask.” A small smile brightens his face for a moment; like a meek, flickering flame. He turns himself towards you, putting his hands behind his back, and your memories echo Brother Day and Brother Dawn with the same mannerism. Countless times, you have seen his holograms do the same ritual during public speeches. You just hadn’t pictured seeing it one day in front of you. As if we had only collectively dreamed of the Empire’s presence, never experiencing it for ourselves.  “Call me Brother Darkness, Engineer. It is my place in the shadows that allows me such folly.” And it is. Terribly so. But you can’t say that, of course.  You swallow, but no saliva comes. You respond nothing, your lips cautiously sealed.  “Surely, you have questions. No one has come here for four thousand years, except for Demerzel and some of the Genetic Dynasty. I myself was not allowed.” He turns his head again, slowly, towards the glass. And one of his hands, gnarled and speckled, comes to rest on the barrier. If only for this obstacle, death and birth would be reunited at last. You dare to look at him, and it tames the slight freeze response gripping your body. He’s not as harsh as you imagined. There’s a softness about him that you could never hope to find in his other versions. At least, that’s your hypothesis.

Then you look around. Even for an artificial womb, with water coming up to the ground, it feels methodical and emotionless. The artificial tranquility of the sound of the fountain mixes with the harsh lines of the brutalist concrete. Even at the heart of the Dynasty, you find no warmth. You wonder if it’s perhaps one of the reasons that led to the destiny of Thespis and Anacreon. The day the only heat to be felt was fire raining down on two planets. You have to remind yourself that this Brother too has the potential to make those same decisions. No one likes doubts, and it could be argued that the foundation of all nations is stability. And stability requires certainty, not questions we do not dare ask. You think of your teachers and colleagues. Friends. Almost family for some. Streeling University suddenly seems like another planet altogether at this very moment. So, you hope this Brother can stomach uncertainty. And you ask:  “Why weren’t you allowed here?” “We had rules,” he responds, perhaps not to you specifically. “Apparently, witnessing one’s own origin can lead to madness.” His head bows, and his thin, white hair acts like a blinding shield.  “Perhaps…” He lifts himself again and scrutinizes the cords floating from the little body, attached to no mother and no belly. “Perhaps the same fate awaits me. Perhaps I’ve seen too much already.” You don’t comment on that last confession either. But you still have questions.  “What do you hope to find, once all the samples are collected?” The white shield goes away, and a mix of blues and greens observes you. Do his younger versions have the same nuances in their eyes? “Two things, Engineer,” he says now, truly focused on you. “First, if we are indeed all the same, just as Cleon the First dreamed. I fear time and experiences change us all, despite our … common bases.” He smiles, but there are no crinkles around his eyes.  “An egotistical search, no doubt. To answer if I’ll be remembered for my particularities… and if they even exist on a genetic level.”

Brother Darkness makes a few small steps towards you. Palms behind his rounded back now coming before him, opened.  “Second, I want to know. Will this one be different?” You can see how wide his eyes are and how the rim of white around his iris tends to take up more space than it should. The last time you saw such a display was from a sub-level worker at the weekly market. An orange in his stained hand, crossing eyes with the Imperial Guards. You look briefly at the fetus of Cleon the 14th, brows frowning.  “How so? I thought the replication was flawless. Aren’t such tests conducted again and again?” “No anymore,” he answers. “Do Luminists open the Script every time they apply their beliefs? The raw genetical code has remained untouched for centuries.” “You fear that corruption of the original material might be an issue?” You articulate. Again, his feet valiantly pace forward despite the smallness of their steps. His hands, slow and gentle, take yours. They can only feel the cold of the Aura separating the two of you. How could such a little thing prevent the most basic human interaction?  “Something’s wrong. I can feel it.”  “Brother Darkness?“ “Like the Sun behind the horizon just before it rises. I cannot see it. But, it’s here. Do you understand? You must conduct the tests.“ Maybe someone else wouldn’t notice the faint tremors of his fingers while he let them slip from yours. But you’re a researcher, and paying attention to details is the core of your practice. All speaks of Cleon the Painter and how he recorded history, producing the most exquisite murals ever made in Trantor. Masterful techniques that you had studied at school; moving patterns embedded in your digital manual. The cold is gone, but something much warmer stays with you. He rolls one of his navy sleeves with application, just as a child might have done during a medical exam. And suddenly, the knot in the pit of your stomach relaxes. The realization blooms in you as this version of Empire folds his linen tunic to offer the veins of his arm. Decades had reduced him to a frail figure that could barely walk without the help of a simple stick. If the man before you was responsible for an entire Galaxy, he was a man nonetheless.  You examine how his bent and rigid fingers fail to grasp the unyielding fabric. How the sides of his index and major, the same ones used to sign peace, are still covered with nano-pigments that swirl and curl on themselves. Your heart tightens. And memories flow from your grandfather, usually tucked away for rainy days. Perhaps you could join and help? But the Aura is there, hanging on his wrist, guarding him jealously. You don’t want to feel the cold again. Instead, you say:

“There’s no need for blood. A simple lock of hair will do.”  He stops. And his brows arch themselves. “Or… saliva, if you prefer. But I doubt that spitting in a tube would be dignified.”  You feel yourself lightly chuckling. He notices your hands; coiled and away. And he’s letting out a small scoff as his eyes wrinkle. The tips of his fingers come to press on the silver bracelet, and in response, a low hum raises the hair on your forearms as it does when a summer thunderstorm is ready to burst with lightning.  “You’re quite right. We can’t let that be my last contribution to this world, can we?” Empire has a sense of humor. It seems that not only color but the kindness of Brother Day would someday deepen as well. Or was it always there? Lingering just under the surface and waiting to take a breath? While searching for a more comfortable place to rest your equipment, only the sound of rippling water comes to you. The room is barren. There’s nothing to sit on. A far cry from the nursery of your little brothers, all in pale shades of apricot. Twins and twice as many teddy bears to fill the space. But here, nothing is soft or comforting. There are only three grey steps at the feet of the tanks. This will have to do. When the heat of Trantor was settling down, long walks at the end of the day were your favorite moments with your grandfather. Habits die hard and survive many, so without a second thought, your arm treads around the old man next to you, offering to slowly sit down. For a brief moment, he looks at you with something holds you in his green and blue eyes. Something you cannot quite pinpoint as you’re focused on opening your medical kit. There, amongst scalpels and test tubes, was hidden a reminder of your mother’s love. A wooden comb carved into the shape of a Ghillie raptor.  “Wood,” he comments with a whisper, now looking attentively at the relic between your hands. “I thought only the Palace had that privilege.”  All objects made of organic matter were indeed banned on Trantor. Those kinds of primary resources were too scarce to be transformed into commodities. The comb was a paradox: priceless because of its essence, and unsellable because no one was wealthy enough to buy it. It was just meant to exist.   “My mother was a horticulturist here. She was in charge of the wild woods before her retirement.”  “I know.”  A smile blooms on your lips. Of course he knows.  “Even wild woods on this planet are painstakingly crafted and engineered, aren’t they?” he says with a low tone. “Nature and Human-made don't have to be opposites. My mother guided life, and so am I. Tweak it and make it better. Not with trees and branches, but with threads of DNA.”  Holding the warm woods between your palms, your eyes are called by the creature deep asleep. Naked and unprotected by any womb. Devoid of touch. And as you follow the invisible link between the dormant unborn baby and Brother Darkness, you observe the carefully crafted bracelet. A protection that had continued the tradition born in this tank.  “Shall we?” At your question, Brother Darkness releases the gentle hold in his gaze and turns himself to offer his spine.   While the carved comb brushes his hair, strings of snow intertwine briefly with your fingers, weaving unintentional caresses. A sniffle is all you hear in response; the sound that someone makes when tears are at the brim, ready to tumble. If they do, you cannot see. But a life without true touch must be a lonely one. Some scars are invisible.  Time stretches itself. 

True, you could have gotten the scalpel out of your kit some time ago. Instead, you comb strings after strings until there’s nothing else to do but take the surgical blade into the palm of your hand. Your fingers select a lock of hair at the base of his neck, one where the disappearance is susceptible to going unnoticed. An unsettling thought grows in your mind, whispering that you could take advantage of the inactive Aura. Make the blue linen red. Nothing to stop your surgical tool, and, no doubt, countless people had dreamed of such an opportunity. Thespis, Anacreon… And how many worlds have been wounded in 400 years? How many mothers crying out after their sons and daughters? How many deaths at the hand of his three fingers signing peace?  However, in front of you, stooped and patient, there’s only an old painter. And he’s a dead man walking anyway, isn’t he? So you tuck away the intrusive thought. The blade glints, and the lock falls.  “You’ll soon ascend.” You speak softly, with a simple observation at the tip of your tongue that you don’t dare quite make.  Your hand clasps the genetic material into darkness. “Ah,” he rasps, “yes.” And he sighs shortly, like filling his lungs might be difficult. “Life is pleasant. Death is peaceful…  It's the transition that's troublesome, you see.” “Aren’t you afraid that the end of the week will come too soon?” “That is just the thing, Engineer. Despite your best efforts and those of your kind, it will always come too soon. Even for those like me.” You wanted to ask if he could promise that your own time, and the life span of your family and friends, wouldn’t be shortened. That he would make sure, even guarantee, their safety and well-being; only for you to focus on the research. Your underfunded Faculty could receive a substantial donation for the risks you were taking. All of this was possible… if unsanctioned studies on the Genetic Dynasty was not considered treason. More so, you fear that betrayal amongst Brothers will steepen the price of your involvement in it. You don’t dare speak because answers will give you neither assurance nor security.

Instead, you place the milky lock in one of your sterile containers. From tank to test tube. Who would have thought that the time in between those two moments would be so defining for the whole galaxy? “I’ll always leave. But I fear one day I might not return.” Science is supposed to be the heart of your work; devoid of political influences or subjectivity. There’s no loyalty toward Streeling University. But it would be foolish to assume you can afford a lack of allegiance towards Empire or its lesser versions. So, you respond: “That’s why I’m here, Brother Darkness. Rest your worries on me.” Saying there’s only the obligation to help him would even be a lie, you realize gradually as your eyes fall on the wooden comb back in your pouch. There’s something more: you want to.  “In the meantime, maybe you should hold on to this …” A faint blush warms the surface of your cheek. You hadn't planned on this. Yet, between your hands lies the little Ghillie raptor, waiting to be gifted. “I know it has no monetary value. Especially to the only person on Trantor that has access to timber.” He turns himself as far as his old bones might allow, wincing at the twist. You can immediately tell the waves are back in the ocean of his eyes as soon as he sees what you hold.  “That’s perhaps the most precious thing someone has ever offered.” “It’s worthless wood,” you comment with a slight smile to lighten the exchange.  His voice stifles, and it breaks.  “It’s priceless comfort, Engineer.”  Silence lingers for a few minutes as he grazes his thumb over the ridges of the wings. Then, it disappears into the abyss of his linen wear. The procedure is done, yet he doesn’t get back up. As if he was maybe waiting for the ghost of the comb to come back in his white hair. Instead, with shivering fingers still stained by swirling pigments, he touches the bracelet, and a warm light embraces him. How many times had he put this armor back on? Had he ever had the liberty to truly take it off? “I have one final question concerning your endeavor.” He only inclines his head slightly towards you, but you know he listens attentively. This is the one question you didn’t dare ask all along, until now.  “Brother Darkness… What will Empire do when he finds out?” 

[deliciousdietdrpepper]

The way that the current Cleons remember cleon the 13th is so devastating because cleon had his pseudo son taken away from him, losing his legacy, and what he’s really remembered for is the infiltration and destruction of the genetic dynasty “cleon the 13th knew fear” how disappointing, how tragic

[gaal-dornick]

foundation truly makes me wanna bite something every time i watch it. every part of the story

[kxllerblond]

cont. (x)

Work was grating-—when was it not? A hell of his own making and one he both detested and depended upon. It was this particular day that he felt that restless itch to be rid of his work-—just for a short time, for a short breather. It was an occasional itch he felt now and again. The sort of itch that resulted in dropped appointments and meetings on a whim, that severed deals in the making that had been brewing for months. All cancelled without a thought because he would simply up and decide he didn't want to deal with it.

So it was really no surprise that he turned to the stranger when addressed, turning so the phone pressed against his ear was now visible. His brows had initially screwed in confusion and then...ah. There it was. His lifeline for the evening, his fate sent excuse to rid himself of the day's responsibilities.

❝ I have the utmost faith you'll figure it out, Charles. You're always talking about your resourcefulness. Put it into practice. ❞ and then he cut the line, pocketed the phone with no hint of a proper goodbye or care for what the other man had to say on the other side of the line.

If this poor bastard had been looking to stray from gaining any unwanted attention, he'd unfortunately hit a sudden stroke of bad luck as he very much now had Clark's attention. His gaze swept over him, a careful and blatant once over.

❝ Is that something you actually want an answer to? ❞ because, yeah. He kind of was giving off that vibe. Sans the implication that Clark looked anywhere close to kindly and not like some sort of cliché villain straight out of some business-crime TV drama.

Clark pointedly ignored the fact he'd only been addressed because of a misunderstanding, a case of mistaking that someone caught up in another conversation had been speaking to them. He ignored it and seemed to be just fine with carrying on as though he had been speaking directly to the stranger.

❝ Oh, darn. You're right. My apologies. And you are...? ❞

[berylcluster]

"I don't want to be alone tonight." — Enzo

⊰ SEND ME "I DON'T WANT TO BE ALONE TONIGHT" FOR MY MUSES REACTION ft. CLEON THE 13TH ⊱

➫ CLEON had been looking for this reaction out of the other, not that he was hoping Vincenzo would find himself so incredibly tired and worn out that it would lead him to the Emperor's bed. Maybe a part of him but he really didn't want the other to suffer, ever. He'd make his life cushioned and easy if he could, if Enzo would let him. Knowing him, this was a great deal to admit, and so he decided to bite back the cheeky and sarcastic reply to opt for something kinder, softer. "You don't have to be, darling. I invite you to stay here tonight, if that suits you." He offers a small smile, along with a hand across the dinner table. "Do you wish to speak on these feelings or can I assume the point was to ask and then act?"

[berylcluster]

➫ CLEON was the picture of controlled facial expressions, because he wanted to grin at her outburst, thinking it was almost refreshing that someone cared about his child, a tiny droplet in the sea of Dusks, Days, and Dawns. There would be another in his place even as they spoke about him, which twisted the Emperor up inside. He FELT her anger, his outburst from earlier still ringing through his bones, and he almost enjoyed that she seemed to suddenly share his anger. Amused, he offers her another little morsel, perhaps it would be better if he told her the truth of it, that way the attack wouldn't be wasted by her lack of it.

"I admire and appreciate your emotions regarding my situation and the vile nature of my most trusted advisor. Once you've done it, you can find me in the tallest tower of the palace, and there your riches can be transferred wherever you'd like them."

Despite her not asking for a payment upfront, he supplied her with the one thing he had on him and the one item that would help her achieve this goal. He rose from the seat he had taken during her outburst, placing the bracelet onto her desk and straightening out his sleeve, to conceal the lack of bracelet. Cleon could get in and out without a problem, his brothers would know his face, it wouldn't have been a problem. If he had intended to go back, but truth was, the Emperor would be leaving as soon as the job was done, in three days time, there was no reason in his mind to stay.

His back was turned to her for the briefest moment, before he turned, as if remembering something. "I should warn you, Demerzel, she is made up of the finest machinery ever to be seen in these times, a killing machine, so to speak." And with that, he was gone from the door.

The woman would lose her bored expression and actually frown that is where she drew the line as she slammed her hands down onto the table. her eyes had a new FIRE one that she did not have before the bored expression filled with nothing but absolute DISGUST and RAGE . This woman DARE kill someones CHILD the AUDACITY OF THIS CUNT

"She will fucking suffer.. she will go down very easily. I will not play my games wit her. I will make sure that she suffers in a ten fold. do not fret about supplying me a way in or out I am good at my job. now it doesn't even matter for RICHES , I want this WHORE dead.. "

It was almost like something was struck within the other as she balled her fists , her nails lightly scraping against the table . She was not one for emotional out bursts but right now.. it was happening and she felt DISGUSTED.

"Such a WOMAN ... DOES NOT belong on this world. she does NOT deserve to live. even if she cannot BLEED I will FIND A WAY to make her fucking bleed and BEG FOR HER GODS DAMN LIFE "

How Siren's words were filled with a VENOM one that she had never exposed before , the thought of a innocent child being ripped from the world was disgusting... someone whom could do such a hence act.

" I will return. I will make sure she bleeds. her kind may not bleed but I will make IT BLEED. and I will make IT HURT "

Normally Siren would ask for some funds up front but she wasn't going to do that for this one... no this was a special case... one she was going to waiver the processing fee for.

"Consider your job done. I will meet you back here within three days. "

[coopsgirl]

Cleon the 13th and Cleon the 17th both like to strut their stuff 🥰

[brotherdusk]

some observations about the foundation first look images:

the hari hanging out with gaal and salvor is knife!hari, as he's wearing the same white shirt as before. we also saw him glitching out in one of the recent trailers, so that's still an issue...

I love salvor's expression here. honestly the only appropriate response to running into hari again. meme puppet energy

grown-up poly verisof is absolutely balling! this shouldn't come as a surprise from how he acted in the first season, but he looks like he's gonna be so much fun. I love him already

day still has his original glass-inspired chestplate in this picture (but he has The Earring so I assume it can't be a flashback to the first season) - when are we switching to the banger crop top and metal armour?

demerzel is still wearing her salt crystal bracelet, but her nails are now purple to match her new outfit (they were pink throughout season one)! colour coordinated queen 💗 also a sign she's finally moving on after 400 years stuck in the cleon the first days?

the harp behind day... that's... that's demerzel's bedroom harp. right? right? god it's cleon the 13th all over again

[maiastar81]

The saddest day for Cleon 13th, the death of brother Dawn.

[blood-and-mirrors]

125 (10) Blake - 17th Gil - 13th Samantha - 12th Navenia - 9th Jerome - 8th Rosella - 6th Robert - 5th Alyeska - 4th Caden - 2nd Celestiana - 1st

126 (10) Nicole - 15th Cesare - 9th Evan - 8th Camila - 7th Hephaestus - 6th Sebastian - 5th Soyeon - 4th Kasia - 3rd Catrine - 2nd Musa - 1st

127 (10) Amelia - 14th Jefferson - 10th Camila - 8th Tabitha - 7th Drogo - 6th Eugen - 5th Constance - 4th Ambrosia - 3rd Caleb - 2nd Solomon - 1st

128 (10) Vesna - 16th Alaska - 10th Abraxas - 9th Fiona - 7th Ciél - 6th Senna - 5th Hawk - 4th Kamali - 3rd Iris - 2nd Dante - 1st

129 (10) Kaz - 14th Allison - 12th Cole - 10th Elena - 9th Anthony - 6th Nico - 5th Eleazar - 4th Rio - 3rd Marisso - 2nd Greta - 1st

130 (10) Reginald - 20th Anika - 14th Melissa - 12th Genevieve - 10th Tony - 8th Daniil - 6th Aiden - 5th Malachi - 4th Kiara - 2nd Yasmine - 1st

131 (10) Konstantina - 18th Eros - 12th Hermes - 11th Lars - 8th Cleon - 6th Holden - 5th Zane - 4th Kasia - 3rd Anton - 2nd Yekaterina - 1st

mmxxi (8) - Hector - 20th Evan - 19th Abel - 18th Theodore - 17th Ksenia - 16th Zachary - 13th Three - 8th Yasmine - 7th Basil - 2nd Eros Jr. - 1st

les jeux (12) Niamh - 23rd Zeki - 15th Etan - 13th Kaia - 12th Zara - 10th Isa - 9th Thane - 6th Summer - 5th Tamsin - 4th Elias - 3rd Cayde - 2nd Lucien - 1st

15th (10) - Malachi, Elara, Julian 14th - Ember 13th - Aurora 11th - Ramses 7th - Regulus 6th - Connor 5th - Amun 4th - Marisol 3rd - Julian 2nd - Malachi 1st - Elarah

[lindamarieanson-art]

Inktober Day 24 - Brother Day

[jills-valentine]

The Night We Met

ship: Claire Redfield x Leon S. Kennedy

a/n: hello! welcome to my first cleon fic and 3rd request i got, thanks to @missmamacitaoliveira​ who requested this, ily<3

October 12th, 1998, 8:36 pm

Claire exhaled the smoke from her cigarette. Since Raccoon City, Claire and Sherry were living with Leon, in his not that small appartment.

Leon and her were really close, but they wouldn’t admit that they had feelings for each other. They knew, they sparked from the beginning, but they wouldn’t admit that either.

Claire had put the cig between her lips once again. She was thinking a lot in a past few days. Mostly about what she feels. And to whom.

She put out the cigarette and made her way to the kitchen.

She stood in the middle of the room, not really knowing what she wanted to do. She let out a loud sigh.

She was alone right now. 

Sherry went for a sleepover to her best friend from school and Leon was at work. It felt really empty without them.

She felt too sad to do anything productive. She just took some loose clothes and made her way to have a steamy shower.

The stream of the hot water hit her tense body, making it relax a slightest bit.

As water was flowing down her face, she couldn’t hold it anymore. She let out the tears fall down on her cheeks.

She just felt an overwhelming sadness.

She came out of the shower and got dressed. She went to Leon’s bedroom.

She looked around. She missed him.

She laid down on his bed and looked up at ceiling. She didn’t notice when she dozed off.

October 13th, 1998, 01:18 am

Leon quietly closed the door behind him. He hung his jacket and took of his shoes. He made his way to Sherry’s and Claire’s room. But Claire wasn’t there.

He walked into his room. He smiled softly when he noticed the girl sleeping in his bed. He got closer and covered Claire with a blanket.

He sat on te edge of the bed and looked at the sleeping woman.

She looked so innocent, so peaceful.

Leon leaned in and planted a gentle kiss on Claire’s forehead.

He smiled once again and made his way to the bathroom.

October 13th, 1998, 1:57 am

Leon quietly walked into his bedroom. He didn’t want to wake up Claire.

He felt guilty for leaving her alone for a few days. He missed her.

He laid beside her and covered both of them with the duvet. But he couldn’t sleep.

He sighed.

“Leon?” Claire asked with a sleepy voice.

“I’m here.” He answered quietly.

Claire faced him. A grin appearing on her face.

“Sorry, I didn’t notice when I fell asleep.” She rubbed her eyes.

Leon chuckled.

“It’s okay” He said softly. “I missed you Claire.”

She looked at him. Her eyes sparkling.

“I missed you too... So much.” She said and got closer to him.

He wrapped his arms around her.

“I’m so sorry, I left you alone.” He whispered.

Claire cupped his cheeks.

“It’s fine. You’re now here.” She smiled.

Oh man, he did love that smile.

He leaned in and connected their lips. Claire didn’t protest. She needed that.

Their kisses where soft and gentle, filled with longing. 

Leon could taste the strawberry lip balm he had seen Claire use all the time. Her lips were so soft, just ideal to kiss. Why he haven’t done that earlier? Cuz he was afraid. He was afraid that his feelings, will destroy the friendship they had.

Their kisses got more passionate. Leon made Claire sit in his lap, without breaking the kiss.

Claire’s hands got lost in Leon’s ashy brown hair.

Leon broke the kiss. He looked into Claire’s eyes. Their heavy breathing was echoing in the room.

He rested his forehead against hers.

“I think..” He started.

“I love you.” They breathed at the same time.

They looked at each other and giggled. That’s what both of them wanted to hear.

Leon leaned in to kiss Claire once again. He could feel her smiling against his lips.

He made his way down Claire’s neck, kissing it gently, before sucking on it and biting it, leaving hickeys behind. Claire hissed quietly.

“Leon..” She whispered, so overwhelmed by the pleasurable feeling.

Leon left a few more marks on her neck and collarbones, and came back to kissing Claire’s lips.

Claire broke the kiss.

“Remember the night we met?” She asked.

“How could I not?” Leon smiled.

She hugged him tightly, inhaling the scent of his cologne.

They cuddled and kissed for hours, before falling asleep in each other arms.

[coopsgirl]

Damn, this is in the first episode?! We may not make it through the whole thing 🤣. I love the callback to Cleon 13th.

First clip Foundation Season 2!

[kxllerblond]

cont. x / @berylcluster

It was a certain type of beast to be aware of someone trying to rile you up and still fall for it and give them exactly that. The cambion doesn't chase after the ducking, just comes to stand there moodily with both hands at his hips. He exhales an audible huff.

❝ You look ridiculous. ❞ what had initially just been a strand turned against the man's hair part was now a whole chaotic fluffed mess of hair. ❝ You look like you've been rollin' around on the ground like a madman. Stop being difficult. ❞

[berylcluster]

⊰ VARIOUS SENTENCE MEME ft. CLEON & ENZO ⊱ @platiinums

❝ were you ever going to tell me or were you just going to make me guess what you're thinking and feeling. ❞

➫ CLEON had been working carefully, on his old bike, hoping to fix it up enough to disappear from this town too. He hadn't made many friends, had a few sleepovers with some people, but nothing like a lifelong connection or people to write letters to. Or so he thought. Enzo, however, seemed to be in a different state of mind, coming up behind the other. The rugged brunette sighed at the others accusation, removing his hands from the vehicle's underside. "I didn't think it mattered all that much, to be completely honest." He stood up, grabbing a rag to wipe his hands off. "I usually leave after a few days or a week, Enzo, it's nothing against you. I can't stay in one place, if I told you why, I'd have to leave faster and put you and your very generous family in danger. For what? Be honest with me, what are your expectations with me." Cleon turned around to face the shorter male, leaning against the bike, and looking a little forlorn.