#big flame lady

[aclownsclownery]

I think that if Mobius isn't one of the HSR flamechasers that hasn't been revealed yet, I will complete some sort of horrible crime

[skyecoaiart]

Women General

[angelofviscera]

I am sexually attracted to msuic

[one-winged-dreams]

Oh fuck my life, now I miss him.

[bcneheaded]

HI HELLO if anyone's wondered where I've been....... its been either work kicking my ass lately OR.... elden ring. JJFJDFSD

[simplerainbow]

I like to think that all the straw hats to some degree actually like fighting.

I think it's probably really fun and invigorating to fight someone so strong when you know they won't go too far

I imagine they'd even get into some scraps with each other along the way

Whenever Luffy is bored and there’s nothing else to do, the crew plays a game they call mutiny

The Strawhats chase their captain all over the ship (its better if its in a town) and they try to catch Luffy like a greasy pig (but Sanji forbids Luffy from going in the kitchen while playing cause last time he used up all the butter) They win if one of them can hold Luffy down for ten seconds

Zoro is the one with the most wins cause Luffy always trusts him and Zoro takes advantage of that

[talesfromthebandgeekmafia]

I have become a real scented candle gal I’m kinda all about it

[yueebby]

𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 – 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

synopsis. period piece, forbidden love

contents. ooc, angst (eventual comfort), yandere emperor!gojo, lovesick!gojo, servant!reader, obsessive behavior (5k words of gojo pining), lowkey unreliable narrator, time skips

notes. inspired by the apothecary diaries and this post. loosely based off of ancient japan (this is basically its own world). this is the prologue to the series where everything can generally be read as a standalone ! (fic under the cut)

series masterlist | next

emperor!gojo who broke a hundred year tradition to take you as his only lover. despite your role as a concubine, everyone in the imperial palace knew he was going to make you his empress.

emperor!gojo who had not meant to fall in love with you, but you have managed to somehow charm him. a man that single handedly brought his own clan to power– weak in your hands. hushed whispers around the imperial palace call you a witch, but they never reach your ears. not as long as he is alive.

emperor!gojo shamelessly showering you with love. he pays no mind that it is highly frowned upon, he will have his hands on you every time you are in the same room.

emperor!gojo who is livid when there is an attempt on your life. his usual ocean eyes turned to blue flames like a wild animal. servants and clan elders alike scurry under his gaze. the assailant is taken care of by his own hands. 

emperor!gojo who is forced to satiate the clan elders into submission by taking in another concubine from an influential clan. he insists to you that it is no more than a political formality. who are you to meddle into imperial affairs?

emperor!gojo who can’t help himself and ends up falling for another girl who his clan elders demand he must wed. she is much younger than you, beautiful and is well bred; a perfect match for the emperor. 

emperor!gojo whose frequent visits to you come to an end, forcing you to move from his chambers and back to the consorts’ pavilion.

There was a time when you had everything. A place to call home in the Inner Court, a beautiful palace with anything you could have ever dreamed of. Servants, admirers, riches; you had it all. But what was most dear to you was your lover– a man so divine, many thought he was directly blessed by the hand of God. It was too good to be true. A woman of lowly birth like you, paid as homage for the sins of her clan against the new reigning family of Japan, becoming a concubine of the Heavenly Emperor. 

You remembered it all too well.

His brilliant mind that once strategized the downfall of the previous imperial family, calculating its next move in a game of Go against you. You can still remember the shock on his face upon his first defeat. The way he would keep you from leaving to fulfill your other duties until he was satisfied, eyebrows furrowing as he struggled to keep up with you. No matter how hard he tried, you remained victorious. It drove him mad.

You remembered the stolen kisses while you made your rounds in the Inner Palace with your ladies in waiting. It took you quite a while to learn to tune out their giggles every time the Emperor dips you down to taste your lips in broad daylight. The grin that he wore after was enough to leave your legs weak.

Above all, you'll always remember how safe you felt in his strong, reassuring embrace. You’ve seen him train, and it was no wonder the Gojo clan rose to power so quickly as a result of one man. The way he wields the katana is unlike any man on the face of the earth. Those arms were your sanctuary. You can still vividly recall the attempt on your life, orchestrated by a traditionalist incensed by the Gojo clan's swift ascent to power. The emperor, outraged by the assassination plot, personally saw to the man's execution. 

However, the damage was done and it caused great strain in the Imperial Palace.

To appease the old geezers that were forced out of power, Emperor Gojo had taken in another concubine from one of the Big Three families of Japan— a beautiful Zenin girl. Her flowing, silky hair and saccharine voice enchanted everyone in the Inner Palace, captivating the Emperor, most of all. She was younger than you, with perkier breasts and soft skin that was enough to capture the attention of any man. 

You don’t blame her for taking the Emperor’s attention away. Though you would be a liar if you said it did not hurt you. Deep down, you cannot deny the agony that sears your soul, realizing that the only semblance of love you've ever tasted remains unrequited. With a heavy heart, you resign yourself to the bitter truth of your existence, knowing all too well the cruel confines of your place in this world.

You were merely a pawn, and the Emperor did not want you anymore.

That was made clear months later when you received a scroll from the Emperor’s advisor, a man you were once well acquainted with, Geto Suguru. 

“What is this?” You asked him quietly, your heart silently begging the Heavens it was not what you had suspected it to be. The black haired man in front of you does not respond, and you feel something pierce into your heart. Despite being a part of the Emperor’s court, it was rare that you received letters directly.

Your suspicions were confirmed when your shaky hands finally opened the scroll to read the familiar kanji written by your beloved.

“The Emperor decrees the termination of your role as concubine." Geto spares you the trouble of deciphering the characters neatly written in ink. “In his mercy, you are to be moved as a servant in the Outer Court. You are to serve the Imperial Physician.”

What you remember most was the silence. The Emperor’s silence after the stressful months you had to endure alone. The silence shared between you and Geto when you were forced out of the Imperial Court. All that was left was the sound of your heart breaking and the wood creaking underneath Geto’s feet as he walked away. Satoru never bothered to see you off.

Seasons change and by the next spring, you’re busying your hands with collecting herbs for the Imperial Physician, a man by the name of Yaga Masamichi. He is a kind man, pitying you enough to fill your days with laborious tasks to prevent your mind from wandering to thoughts of the unfortunate turn your life has taken. He is even generous enough to supply you with a new wardrobe of clothing full of light fabrics, a luxury you thought you would lose in the Outer Palace. Though the initial humiliation has worn off with the passing of time, you are still constantly reminded of your fall from grace.

Looks by the mix of condolences and disgust are shared when you roam the walls of the Outer Palace. You hear whispers of how the Emperor is infatuated with his newer, shinier toy. It is enough for you to swallow the bile that makes its way up your throat. 

“It is no wonder the Emperor tossed away a wildflower like her in exchange for a cherry blossom. He needed someone to rival his own greatness.” A particular comment stopped you in your tracks. Your grip tightens on the woven basket in your hand filled with medicinal herbs you had collected earlier that morning. 

“Have some pity on her.” Another eunuch whispers. Your breath falters, but you continue your walk with your head held up. You’ve heard the rumors. The beautiful Zenin Himiko has charmed the Emperor enough that there are rumors of a royal marriage to come. It doesn’t help that the Emperor has remained monogamous to her since he had banished you from his court.

A comforting hand links itself with your arm, “Ignore them. I saw Yaga shooing away a crowd of suitors that were lined up for your hand.” Ieiri Shoko scoffs, secretly sending you a wink. She has been studying medicine under Yaga for nearly a decade, eagerly accepting you as a companion upon your arrival. You feel your cheeks heat up at her flattery. You know she’s just trying to make you feel better.

Although your beauty never faded, it seems as though you are no longer sought after in the marriage market. Not that it matters, considering the new life that you’re living. You’re now a personal servant to the Imperial Physician, leaving no time to worry about suitors and such. Your days are filled with good work— tending to Yaga’s cherished garden that he has sowed for decades rather than frivolous games and attending the Emperor. It may not be glorious compared to your former life, but it was the best a woman of your status could receive. 

When you and Shoko return to Yaga’s estate, you’re surprised to see the somber look that has settled on his aging features. Shoko makes an offhand comment that he will age faster if he keeps scowling. She receives a scolding.

“Is something the matter?” You gently place down your basket full of herbs. 

Yaga sighs, calloused hands rolling up a scroll with the Imperial Seal. “It appears the Emperor’s consort has fallen ill and His Majesty commands my presence in the Imperial Palace.” 

The Royal Consort. The woman that dethroned you: Zenin Himiko.

“I understand.” You nod, maintaining your composure while two sets of eyes scrutinize you with keen observation. It was only natural the emperor wanted the best doctor in the country for his object of affection. “Shall I close up the shop while you journey into the Inner Palace?” 

Yaga shakes his head, “That won’t be necessary. I will have Shoko act as my stand-in.” He remarks with a quick glance in her direction “You, on the other hand, will accompany me.” 

Your eyes widen. 

“You cannot be serious.”

“Typically, one of my apprentices would accompany me on such journeys. However, now that I have acquired a personal attendant,” He gestures towards you with a flick of his hand, “It shall no longer be necessary.” As he speaks, he runs his hand absentmindedly through his well trimmed beard, gaging your reaction.

"I—" Your words falter and fade away. "Yes, sir," you respond, inclining your head in deference, a stark reminder of your place. While you may have concealed it, you were seething with humiliation. Returning to the Imperial Palace after a year of exile to serve the woman who took your spot was mortifying beyond measure.

“Very well. Pack enough for one week’s time. I doubt the Emperor would have called me if this was a light ailment.” He says gruffly. “We leave at dawn.” His gaze shifted to the horizon outside.

1 YEAR AGO

“Your Grace,” You purr at the feeling of his large hands scratching your head. 

The smile that rests on his face is almost ravenous. “Yes, my love?”

“I think—“ A soft sigh escapes your lips when he presses on your weak points. “I should g-go.”

His ministrations stop almost immediately. 

“Go?” His eyes peer down at you in his lap. It is now that you realize the weight of his piercing gaze. “Have I commanded you to leave yet?”

“No, but—”

“Then you have nowhere else to be.” He huffs, unintentionally puffing his cheeks out. You stifle the giggle that nearly escapes from your lips. He vaguely resembles a pufferfish– or so you think. Though you’ve never seen the round creature with your very own eyes, you’ve heard that the delicacy was something only members of the aristocratic class would feast on. 

Your mouth waters at the thought.

“What are you thinking about that could possibly be so important? Keep your eyes on me,” A strong hand squishes your cheeks together and firmly guides your face back upon him. 

You should be embarrassed; ashamed at the intimate position His Majesty has trapped you in. The way your head is tucked away in his lap as he peers down at you, nothing to shield you away from him. It was incredibly scandalous, considering that you were an unmarried woman! But it seemed like the Emperor had taken no mind towards it. You would even dare to say that he was enjoying it, with the way his lips quirk upward at the sight of you squirming. 

“Your Grace,” You repeat, determined to free yourself from his hold. His eyebrows furrow.

“Satoru,” He reminds you. You purse your lips. The position you hold in his court is simply not high enough to grant you the privilege of calling him by his given name.

“Your Grace,” You try again, the title rolling off of your tongue naturally. A man like him did not deserve any title less than.

“You’re breaking my heart, sweetheart. Indulge a man, won’t you?” He pouts down at you. As stubborn as ever, you don’t relent.

“I would be overstepping my boundaries as your consort to call you as such. That privilege is reserved for your future bride.” You take advantage of his guard let down to sit up and escape his hold. If he could have caught you, he made no effort.

“I am a simple man.” He follows you to your vanity. A giggle escapes your mouth. He is anything but. “I want my love to call me by my name.” 

You turn around to cup his cheek. He eagerly leans into your touch, sighing happily at the contact.

“I wonder how Lord Kento and Geto would react to you like this.” You tease, a smile unknowingly painting itself on your lips. 

Satoru’s face falls, features morphing into an appalled expression. You watch him close the distance between you through the mirror.

“Kento?” His voice had a dangerous lilt in it. You blink, unsure what spurred on the sudden tension in the room. “Since when were you so comfortable around him? He cannot satisfy you like I can.” He reminds you of the man’s castrated state as an eunuch. You wince.

“I have not gotten comfortable,” You’re careful to pick your words. Gojo’s possessiveness was something that was not easily tamed. “He simply provides good conversation while you are away.The palace is far too big and lonely while you’re away dealing with clan matters.” 

The only response you get is a quiet grumble. “You’re lucky that you’re pretty.” His large hand creeps its way into your hair again, undoing the hairstyle your ladies in waiting had spent a copious amount of time on earlier that morning. Gojo carefully plucks the extravagant silver hairpin from your hair, the dangling pearls clicking softly at the sudden movement.  His hands slowly make their way down to the kimono that you are wearing, hands ready to undo the obi.

Your hands softly hover his, “I fear that our roles have been reversed. Should it not be me who gets you unready, Your Grace?”

He chuckles and through the mirror you can see a smirk make his way to his lips, “I’d let you undress me any day. Just say the word, beloved.” 

You roll your eyes, but allow him to continue. It was moments like these with the Emperor that led you on to believe that there was a semblance of love between the two of you. 

How wrong you were.

PRESENT DAY

The sun has yet to meet the horizon when you arrive at the Inner Palace. The horse-drawn carriage that you and Yaga had taken is the only sound at the scene, clopping down the stone road and back to the Inner Court. You miss the serenity of the beautiful palace you once resided in, knowing that it will be bustling with life in just a few short hours.

In front of the large doors of the primary ceremonial hall where the Emperor spends most of his time, stands Lord Nanami, a counsellor to the Emperor himself. Time has only made his face sterner, but his neatly styled hair and blue and yellow dyed court attire remained the same. He waits patiently while you and Yaga make your way up the flight up stairs that lead up to the hall.

“I am glad to see you in good health, Yaga.” Nanami bows. 

The man next to you promptly waves his politeness off, thanking him for his hospitality. You stand silently while the two men engage in conversation regally.

Lord Nanami sighs, “His Majesty has been plagued by stress lately. To say I am relieved by your presence would be an understatement.” His statement is a subtle reminder that you must harden your heart upon entering the palace walls. The meticulously built walls were no longer a sanctuary for you, rather, a painful testament that you were no longer wanted. 

Yaga lets out a hearty laugh and it reveals a rare sight, Lord Nanami’s lips curving upwards by a slight. “I highly doubt the boy would be glad to see me. The appearance of the Imperial Physician is portentous.” He scratches his beard. You tilt your head in confusion at how he referred to the Emperor.

“I suppose, yet I am intrigued to find out how he will react upon seeing his object of affection flourishing anew despite the sting of frost.” Nanami audibly wonders. Even a fool could understand his eloquent comparison. The Emperor would be thrilled to see his consort in full bloom once again. You pray that the Heavens would grant you some mercy from witnessing such a scene.

“Youth,” Yaga shakes his head, chuckling to himself before regaining composure. “I mustn't keep the Emperor waiting. [Name], please gather the herbal ingredients to treat the young Consort as you seem fit. I shall confer with His Majesty and meet you in her chambers to declare a proper diagnosis.”

You bow, “Yes sir.”

While Yaga prepares to enter the doors where The Heavenly Emperor resides, your eyes couldn’t help but gaze longingly at the large bronze doors. 

“You seem well,” Nanami addresses you for the first time in over a year. Your eyes trail from the Emperor’s door to the blonde man in front of you. “Allow me to guide you to our herbal stock.” Nanami offers you his arm as you start to make your way down the stairs. 

You take it, lightly holding his arm.  “Thank you, Lord Nanami. Time away from the Inner Palace has been like a breath of fresh air,” You respond, ensuring your voice carries no malice. You hear the large palace doors from behind you open, the metal creaking loudly in the quiet dawn. 

“I must ask you to call me Kento,” He leads you down the stone steps. “We are old friends, it is strange to hear anything but.” 

You focus on your steps down the stairs, only responding once your feet meet the solid ground, “I fear that our social statuses have changed since then. It would be the cause of a scandal should anyone hear I am calling the Imperial Counselor by his given name. Your admirers would have my head on a stick.”

“Your imagination is amusing as always, [Name].” He gives you a closed eyes smile. You huff.

“I am only speaking the truth!” You insist. He chuckles.

“It is quite refreshing to see both you and Yaga again. I’m not sure how long it has been since I have been at the imperial physician.” 

You gape at his confession. “You mustn't skip your annual visits to the physician, Kento. It is in the best interest of your health!” You lightly scold him, lifting your hand to flick his forehead. It was a force of habit. “Perhaps if I have time after treating the Consort, I shall do a check up on you.”

Nanami clears his throat at your comment, the twinkle in his eyes dissipating as if your direct touch had burned him. 

“I would rather not lose my head.” He mumbles, eyes scanning the courtyard around the two of you. You knit your eyebrows, confused.

Nanami leaves you to fulfill his duties once you arrive at the Royal Kitchens to retrieve all the necessary items to treat Consort Himiko. You are glad that he did not accompany you into the kitchens to prepare Consort Himiko’s herbal soup. 

The memory of it still irks you.

“You’re late,” One of Consort Himiko’s ladies in waiting snaps just as you enter the kitchen. You look up to see a young girl, dressed in a light purple kimono. It must be Himiko’s signature, you note. It was strange to see someone outside of the Imperial family donning the color, but you suppose it was only a grand display of Himiko’s influence.

“You’re a lot more plain than I anticipated,” The other lady in waiting quirks an eyebrow, eyeing your appearance. You furrow your eyebrows, shocked by their rudeness.Their undying loyalty to their Lady was enough to fuel an unspoken hatred for you. Though you’re not sure that the two coincide, you don’t blame them.

The two are mixing a concoction that you don’t recognize to be used to treat the sick. The taller one adds some aromatics and herbs in and you see the other one unwrap a cloth to reveal a rare delicacy from the West. Cocoa, you believed they called it. 

Then it hits you– the two are not making a medicinal soup for their Lady, rather they are making an aphrodisiac! The image that conjures in your head makes you blanch. Back in the Outer Palace, Shoko had shown you the effects of the stimulant (you shiver at the memory of her shoving a treat laced with it into your mouth). It was certainly a night to remember.

“How pathetic,” You mutter underneath your breath, quickly rushing to obtain the ingredients you needed without making conversation with the two girls.

Fortunately, they pay you no further attention for the time you’re in the kitchen.

“Please excuse me,” You bow upon entering the Emperor’s chambers. Despite the Consort’s Pavilion being similar in size to a small town, you remember spending most of your time in the Emperor’s chambers rather than your own. It was probably the same case with Consort Himiko. You slowly place the tray carrying broth and medicinal herbs to treat the Consort down on the circular wooden table in the middle of the room.

Out of curiosity, your eyes can’t help but soak in the Emperor’s room. Not much has changed since you’ve left. His Majesty’s preference for minimalist decorations have stayed the same, along with his natural musk that fills your nose. You feel your face heat up at your own thoughts. How could you think of such a thing when you are about to meet his new lover?

Your gaze moves to his bed, where Consort Himiko resides– only to find nothing.

“Huh?” 

You observe his bed, silk sheets neatly made, seemingly untouched. The sounds of your sock clad feet patter on the wooden floor as you make your way to feel the bedsheets for any signs of warmth, but you are met with nothing.

“Don’t you know that entering the Emperor’s chambers can be punishable by death?” A deep voice from behind you causes you to jump in your spot. 

Your guard is immediately raised, head whipping to the sound. In hindsight, you should have never agreed to accompany Yaga on his trip. It was a foolish idea all along, you think as all of the air in your lungs dissipates upon seeing your former lover. 

Standing at the entrance of his own sleeping quarters is Gojo Satoru, his frame big enough to tower over the doorway. His arms are crossed over each other, electric blue eyes focused on nothing else but you. You press your thighs together tightly to avoid squirming anymore than you are.  He has loosened his dark blue kimono to expose some of his hardened chest, a sight any woman in the nation would die to catch a glimpse.  Even underneath all of the fabric, anyone can see his divinely sculpted physique.

“Your Grace,” You waste no time to dip your body deeply, praying that he will allow you to keep your head by sunset. “I apologize for the intrusion, I was under the pretense that Consort Himiko resided in your quarters–” Your voice loses itself in your throat when you see his shadow quickly encroaching.

“Himiko stays in her Pavilion,” He towers over you, eyes gazing down on you. “But one might suspect that you already knew that.”

Your eyes frantically meet his feet, desperate to salvage what was left of your dignity, “I assure you that I speak of the truth, Your Majesty.”

When he doesn’t respond, you slowly lift your head.

The flustered look on your face must have been amusing to him, as he makes his way closer to you, bending down to interrogate you further.

“Is that so?” He hums, enjoying every second of cornering you into his chambers. The back of your legs have met his bed, trapping you. You inhale sharply, trying to keep your breaths even, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing the effect he had on you.

He continues, “You’re awfully skittish for someone who was happily skipping around my territory in the arms of another man just earlier.” His predatory gaze seems to darken. 

“Kento?” When his name leaves your lips, the man in front of you grits his teeth. You turn your head to the side, deliberately avoiding him. “With all due respect, Your Majesty, but I don’t see how Kento and I’s relationship is any of your concern,” He does not take your actions well, his gaze searing into you.

“It certainly is when the woman in question is you,” Gojo’s voice loses its feral lilt, distress flashing across his face. There’s a newfound desperation in it that chips away at your resolve. His hand raises to your face so slowly, as if he did not want to startle you.

“This is wrong. I– I saw a couple of servants earlier making aphrodisiacs, perhaps you could have unknowingly consumed them.” You tell him, frantic eyes meeting him. It is not unusual for couples to use aphrodisiacs, you know that after under Yaga. The Emperor must have mistaken the laced dessert for his usual. 

He shakes his head, running a hand through his white hair.

“You are mistaken. This is solely your effect on me.” He promises. You could barely believe his words, stuck between feeling offended or shocked.

“How could you stand to be so cruel?” Your voice is barely above a whisper. There are no tears in your eyes this time.  “I am not a courtesan you can buy for the night,” You snap, pointing a harsh finger to his chest. 

“What do you mean?” He sounds breathless.

“Whatever do I mean?” You scoff, a dry laugh escaping your mouth. “For a year, all I have gotten is pity from the world, because you decided I was no longer entertaining. You could have at least banished me away yourself. Instead, you sent Suguru who couldn’t even look me in the eye! Don’t you know how humiliating that is?” With every word that left your lips, more venom seemed to drip. Anger was prickling you all over, taking control of the rational part of you.

Gojo seemed to be taken aback by your outburst. It was far too late to take anything back now. If you lose your head by nightfall, so be it.

You dig a deeper grave for yourself when you take advantage of his moment of weakness to flee. He’s quick to react, attempting to grip your wrist.

“Wait, [Name], beloved–” He uses that all too familiar term of endearment, but it doesn't deter you.

You accidentally bump into the circular wooden table placed in the middle of the room. What an awful place to keep it, watching in horror as the Consort’s medicine shatters on the floor. To add salt to the wound, a vase you recognize to be specially gifted to the Emperor from a foreign nation tips off too before you can catch it. The sound of porcelain shattering fills the room.

“[Name]! Are you alright?” You hear Gojo ask from behind you, but you run over the broken shards before he can catch you.

Had you bothered to pay closer attention, you would have noticed articles of your clothing and a couple of your missing belongings littered all over the room– creating a faux impression that you never really left the palace.

Days passed by after the incident, and luckily, your head was still attached to your body despite offending and nearly endangering the Emperor. Yaga’s disappointment when you had told him what happened was made evident when he sent you home early after hearing the events that transpired, insisting that he can handle the Consort on his own. Normally you would have argued, but you knew better than to inflict Yaga’s wrath.

“Now you’ve really done it,” Shoko whistles lowly, walking in from the front of Yaga’s shop. 

You hide your face in your hands, “I made an absolute fool of myself, didn’t I?”

“A fool? No. A conspirator against the Emperor? Perhaps.” She dangles a scroll with a familiar seal on it. The Gojo Clan’s familiar emblem reflects off of the sunlight spilling into the room. Your heart drops.

“Oh, they’ll have my head.” You moan, hands instinctively lifting to shield your neck.

“Though I’m quite impressed that Yaga only sent you back here. He used to have worse punishments.” She shudders before impatiently unraveling the scroll. You watch her eyes gradually widen as they read the contents of the letter. The scroll falls from her hand.

You rush to it, desperate to read your fate.

To [Last Name] [First Name],

Greetings and prosperity unto you.

By the mandate of the heavens and the authority vested in Us, We hereby extend Our solemn words to you, [Last Name] [First Name], servant of the realm, in acknowledgement of your debt to the Empire.

In response to your unmeritorious deeds, The Emperor bestows upon you His imperial pardon from capital punishment. In consideration of your obligations and the harmony of the realm, it is hereby decreed that you shall serve as an indentured servant to the Imperial Household for a period commensurate with your debt. During this time, you shall labor faithfully and diligently under the supervision of Our Heavenly Emperor, performing duties essential to the welfare of the Empire.

By fulfilling your obligations with diligence and humility, you may yet earn favor and esteem in Our sight.

The Imperial Court

A loud gasp escapes your mouth.

You feel your legs weaken, your emotions running wild. Shoko’s eyes meet yours, mirroring your frantic gaze. In that moment, you are met with the same suffocating sense of hopelessness.

extra!

gojo was kicking his feet happily as he watched suguru draft out his letter to you. suguru thought it rather cruel, while the white haired male was too busy purring happily as he fantasized about having you back into his grasp.

[ubeb0nes]

Getting jealous as Sevika's girlfriend…

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Look, we all know this lady gets around. Brothel or not, she's big and she's strong and she looks good. She's gonna be pretty experienced no matter when you meet her and get with her.

But once you two are together? Oh baby, there's nobody more devoted. Even if she doesn't say how much she cares, Sevika always shows you what type of person she is. And loyal, she definitely is.

Go ahead and try to ask her- pettily, childishly- if you're not the only pretty thing warming her bed. She'll shoot you a withering look as she tells you with all the unshakeable affection in her big, guarded heart, "I haven't even looked at any other woman since we got together, you ass."

A love confession as good as any!

In truth, you know you don't have to worry about Sevi's eyes straying. You know it in your heart. But you know that still doesn't stop others from looking, or even talking to her.

And sometimes all the present conditions just make it far too easy for your most unfounded insecurities to seem all too real. The way she can be so careful, so guarded about showing you affection in public has been a sensitive issue between you two for a while.

I HC that she's not the type to have you perched on her lap while she plays cards with the guys or anything like that. She's too protective, too possessive herself. Why should anybody get to see you all pretty like that?

But perhaps more importantly, she doesn't want to treat you the same way she treated her more… casual partners. Whether that may be right or wrong, it's how she makes a point of how different you are from her past flames. You're not just some pretty thing to prop up (although you are her pretty thing). You're the woman she's chosen, and that chose her back.

Obviously, it doesn't always translate that way. Sometimes, it just makes her seem cold. Again, whether it's right or wrong.

Maybe you were feeling extra sensitive that night, maybe she was being extra detached, but it was probably the most opportune time for outside forces to make it worse.

You're sitting at the bar chatting with Ran to try and take your mind off things when you see, out of the corner of your eye, some bitch sliding up next to your woman with a whiskey tumbler in hand.

Sevika doesn't even look up as she takes the offered drink. Your brain honestly shuts off then, ignorant to the way when a hand slides over her shoulders and she finally looks at the woman, Sevika jerks away like she'd been burned.

It happens so quickly, and you were already feeling like shit that particular night that you don't even go to confront. Ran had been ready to wrangle you back from killing someone, so she's surprised when you just… leave. You storm out of the bar, not hearing the "shit, doll, no…" that Sevika mutters under her breath as she stands to follow you.

The glare she gives the girl could win awards. "You better hope she tells me not to kill you," she growls, jutting a finger in the girl's face before leaving.

The guys she plays cards with every week swivel on the girl once Sevika leaves, throwing their cards up and bemoaning the "goddamn homewrecker!"

You hear her call your name almost immediately after you're out the door. "Baby, stop, you know that was-"

"I know that was what?" Sevika stops in her tracks when you swivel on her. Her eyes are wide, taken aback by how firm your voice is.

…Where'd you been hiding that lower register?

"It was a mistake, I thought it was you-" "You didn't even bother to look!" "Yeah, 'cause I thought you were bringing me a drink like you always do!"

She doesn't push back against you too hard because she knows it's her mistake, dumb and unintentional as the harm may be. She lets you yell, picks out the deeper hurt from your words and the why.

And when you're done, and the tears start to well up, that's when she closes the distance. She wraps her human arm around your shoulders, hiding your vulnerability with a subtle shrug of her cape halfway over you.

"Listen to me, woman." She cups your face with her human hand, smirking slightly at the surprised laugh you let out.

"You're the only fuckin' thing I see. Okay? The only damn one. That won't happen again."

Sevika didn't ever apologize, not really. But she did make promises that she never broke.

"…So do you want her dead?"

"Nah. I can't even blame her, I'd homewreck too if I didn't already have you."

"Ha! Your call, doll."

[beloveds-embrace]

Dukedom au masterlist (yes i need to update it ik) and we will not talk abt the abrupt ending 😭

The grand ballroom of glittered with the light of a thousand candles, their flames dancing across marble floors and golden fixtures hung from the ceilings. A symphony played softly in the background, a perfect complement to the hum of ongoing conversation and chatter. You stood at the center of it all, draped in a gown of midnight blue silk, embroidered with silver thread that mirrored the stars. A gift from Simon, one that had you staring at the beautiful dress in awe.

Tonight, you were the very image of grace and poise.

Your face and movements are calm and collected, hiding what you truly feel beneath. Lately, whispers of dishonor had begun circulating; rumors that your husband had fled a border skirmish back when he’d been deployed, abandoning his men, yet had paid for the matter to be buried. Vile lies, born of cowardice and malice. John’s name, his reputation, and the honor of your house were at stake; disloyalty towards the empire was seen as treason, and that was unforgivable.

You would not allow it.

The first spark of rage had ignited the moment you’d overheard the vile accusations from another lady, one of your more arrogant rivals who had laughed snidely. From there, the rumors spread like wildfire, poisoning the halls of the court and society.

But you were no stranger to such games like these. Tonight, after much planning, you’ll put an end to this farce.

You began with your loyal ladies-in-waiting. Each one owed their position to you, and in return, they offered their unwavering loyalty. “Listen carefully,” you instructed them during a private meeting in your sitting room, the door locked behind you. “Go into the court, the markets, the salons- anywhere whispers thrive. I want names, places, and patterns. Who speaks these lies, and who listens too closely?”

They curtsied and departed without hesitation, melting into the bustling world outside of the manor. Meanwhile, you turned your attention to your maids and house staff. Servants were the lifeblood of any noble house, privy to secrets thought hidden.

You met with them personally with Kyle’s help, ensuring they understood the stakes. “Speak subtly,” you said, your voice calm but firm. “Let it slip that those who spread these rumors do so for their own gain, that there’s no substance to the rumors. Plant doubt. Create cracks.”

“As you wish, my lady.” Kyle nods his head, hands on your waist. He leans down, and kisses your forehead, and you smile all sweet and pretty at him. “Whatever you want.”

While you wove your network of spies, John watched quietly from the shadows of the manor. Though he trusted you implicitly, he couldn’t help but feel a mixture of awe and unease. He didn’t want to doubt you, but he worried nonetheless for you.

In his study, he sat with Kyle.

“How’s she faring?” John asked, puffing a cigar as he leaned back in his chair. Papers were scattered on his desk, though they didn’t require immediate attention or replies. Pressed close to Kyle, bodies warm, he didn’t want to go back to working for now.

Kyle hesitated for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “She’s… efficient, John. The staff is utterly devoted to her even without my help. I’ve seen no signs of hesitation in her plans.”

John chuckled dryly, though there was a flicker of appreciation in his eyes. “I am not surprised. She’s scarier than any battlefield, Kyle. And they love her.”

With the groundwork laid, you began preparing to host a big gala at the manor. Invitations were sent far and wide, carrying the promise of exquisite dining, captivating entertainment, and the opportunity to curry favor with one of the most powerful families in the region.

None dared refuse.

Johnny worked tirelessly to ensure every detail of the menu was flawless, and though he would have helped anyways, he still enjoyed all the kisses he got as reward from yoh. “You’re pilin’ it on thick, Duchess,” he remarked one evening, wiping his brow as he inspected a rack of lamb. “Even for you.”

“This isn’t just a party, Johnny,” you replied, humming. “This is war.”

“War it is, then. Anything for you, bonnie.” he muttered, diving back into his work with renewed determination. After a very heated look from you that had him preening, though; he looked handsome in his element. And you’ll make sure to really show him your appreciation for all his hard work later, in the privacy of your rooms.

At every other gala and gathering, you moved through the crowd like a dancer with a purpose. You guided conversations subtly, planting seeds of doubt and faltering those who tried to be a bit too brave- and your reputation as a “people’s princess” helped so greatly. Your allies- the few you trusted among the nobility-played their roles perfectly.

Simon, especially. You had specifically asked for his help, curled warm and cozy on his lap one night. He’d kissed you breathless and told you he would always be there for you.

“Lord Marcan, was it?” Simon mused during one party, his glass of whiskey balanced effortlessly in his hand. The others immediately listen to him; though he isn’t the most talkative noble, his words carry weight. “I’ve heard some interesting things about him. Did you know he’s deeply in debt? I wonder how far a man would go to escape ruin.”

The other nobles exchanged glances, uncertainty flickering across their faces. You watched from a distance, satisfied as Simon delivered the blow with effortless charm.

Your web was nearly complete, each thread pulling tighter around Lord Marcan- the instigator of the rumors- until he had no room to maneuver. At the final ball of the season, the one hosted by you and John, you made your final move.

You descended the grand staircase as the guests gathered, your presence commanding attention. At your signal, the servants unveiled a surprise: a performance of actors reenacting a scene from an old skirmish. But this was no ordinary play; it was a dramatized retelling of that battle, one that highlighted John’s bravery and leadership even when Lord Marcan had tried to say John had fled that day.

The crowd was entranced, all earlier doubts finally wavering and shattering. You saw Marcan shift uncomfortably, his face pale as his lies unraveled before him and eyes turned towards him in disgust.

From the balcony above, John watched with Simon and Kyle at his side. “She’s terrifying.” he murmured, though his voice carried a note of awe.

Simon smirked. “You married a bloody tactician.”

Kyle simply nodded. “She fights for you, for us, John. And she wins.”

By the end of the evening, Lord Marcan was a broken man and his wife, Lady Marcan who had laughed at you by the rumor, was seething. Their allies abandoned them, their name tarnished by his cowardice and deceit and her aftions.

And the rumors about John’s supposed abandonment of his men? Gone.

That night, as you removed your jewelry in the quiet of your chambers, John approached you. His hands rested on your bare shoulders, his touch warm and grounding.

“You’ve been busy, beloved.” he said, his voice soft but laced with admiration.

“I did what needed to be done.” you replied, meeting his gaze in the mirror. “I know you could have simply challenged him to a duel… but we didn’t have full confirmation it was him who started. I had to do it this way.”

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You’re terrifying, love. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

From the shadows of the room, Simon leaned casually against the doorframe. “She’s not wrong, John. Best keep on her good side.”

Johnny’s voice echoed from the hallway as he came by with a tray of food. Kyle comes as well, carrying glasses of wine. “Aye, and keep feeding her. Keeps her from plotting.”

Kyle sighs, though he has a smile on his face as he sets the glasses down and instead comes to help you. “…he isn’t exactly wrong. You were incredible…. And scary.”

“Perfect, in other words.” John hums, an eyebrow raising. You do not have enough time to ask anything before he and Kyle are gently turning you around on the seat, face to face with John who kneels down. “You’ve worked so hard for me, for us, my Duchess. Let me take care of you now, hm?”

“John…“

“No more words, my love,” he shakes his head, Kyle’s hands reaching to unlace your dress, your corset, until your breasts spill out. John doesn’t even seem mildly bothered by the layers of your skirt, flipping them up until you are indecent in front of your men and he is face to face with your panties. The way they look at you, so much want…

You don’t mind. The slick spot forming speaks more than enough anyways.

“Tonight,” John murmurs, kissing your inner thighs. “Will be all about spoiling you, wife.”

[alicentsgf]

genuinely do think house hightower is cooler and more interesting than the targaryens, like dont get me wrong i like both but the hightowers take it. easily. their shadowy history of alchemy and necromancy, patronage of westeros' cultural and religious institutions, and big fuckass taller-than-the-wall lighthouse has bewitched me body and soul. dragons, blood magic, and a destabilising obsession with incest is all well and good - but institutional corruption and the delicate mastery of soft power? just too tasty. been on the wrong side of several wars and never lost a head or a penny from their main line because they know how to play the game. one of the richest houses in westeros and they know how to do it right ! funding the arts, sciences, faith. controlling the narrative. every message goes through the maesters, them and septas tutoring little lords and ladies, all roads lead to oldtown, and thats just how its done why would you even question it. how could you question it. and all the while the lord of the hightower sits up in the clouds in a tower built atop an unsettling ancient labyrinth of black stone, burning a flame that can be seen for miles, lighting the city every night. like good luck getting away with shit when theres no shadowy corners to hide in. the metaphor isnt subtle. every other house would wish they were the hightowers if they could conceptualise the higher plane this familys operating on.

[lxnarphase]

━ dear sukuna...♡

✷ synopsis .ᐟsome of my personal headcanons for heian era!sukuna ♡

✷ content .ᐟ heian era!sukuna x fem!reader, oc mention [nonromantic], fluff, teasing, name for sukuna's stomach mouth, sad childhood (poor kuna :<)

✷ lunar's note .ᐟ these are just a few headcanons ive wanted to share about heian sukuna but i have so many more that i will 100% make another one of these for this sukuna AND different sukuna's, like fratboy!kuna, modern!sukuna, jujutsu high teacher!kuna, etc. whatever other aus i think of !! i hope u guys like my silly lil thoughts :33

sukuna was abandoned by his mother and father at a young age as his more monstrous features began to develop. the village he was born into grew to despite him as a young boy, blaming any misfortune on his existence. it got to a point that they figured the only way to get rid of the bad luck in the village was to kill him. before this, a sorcerer woman named chiyo, quickly got him to safety and cared for him as he grew older.

during his childhood, sukuna nearly burned down an entire forest trying to learn how to use divine flame. he hasn't told anyone beause he still gets overly embarrassed when he thinks about how badly he fucked up.

during his time with chiyo, sukuna met uraume. he practically dragged uraume home and simply said "this one can cook. they are staying" and chiyo just sighed and accepted it. he always seemed to have a thing for strays.

when chiyo became older, she became extremely sick and ended up passing. because of the bond he formed with her, sukuna couldn't accept her death and ended up transforming her into a curse. instead of being monstrous, however, chiyo is relatively human looking...but now just an old lady who huffs playfully at sukuna for not letting her sleep.

while he does have concubines, sukuna wants a wife who can keep up with him. yes, being gifted the finest women is a pleasure and fuels his ego, but he wants to ensure the person he marries checks all the boxes. no one knows him best except himself, after all

if any concubine or servant is caught speaking ill of his wife, uraume, or chiyo, sukuna will not hesitate to kill them. after all, he selected them to be the closest people in his life. if someone questions his decisions, they have no worth to him.

sukuna gets extremely grumpy whenever you get sick because he just. cannot figure out how to take care of you without being too overbearing or accidentally calling you weak. yes, he's one of the most powerful sorcerers to walk the earth, but seeing you sweat from a fever makes him feel weak and he projects a little bit.

sukuna's stomach mouth was playfully named 'mokuna', or 'moku for short, by chiyo as a combination of mouth and sukuna. he swears up and down he hates the name, but the mouth on his abdomen can't help but grin and grumble happily when it's referred to by a name.

he will never admit it, but sukuna has a massive sweet tooth. yes, he will steal candy from a baby, he does not care. if it smells sweet and makes his mouth water, he wants it.

sometimes, when sukuna is sleeping, moku will still be 'awake' and will try to communicate with you. it can't speak verbal words very well, but it's so expressive that you find it relatively easy to figure out what it's trying to say.

sukuna is a shitty liar when moku is visible because if he tries to act grumpy and upset at the sweet cooing and petting your giving him, mokuna is practically purring, giving you a little lick on whatever part of you it can reach. it's so fucking cute too when he tries to hide the pink tinge on his ears

sukuna LOVES water, he loves soaking in the onsen for hours, loves swimming in large ponds and lakes. he turns into a little kid when he seems a big lake with crystalline water and will not hesitate to stop everything he's doing to drag you into the water with him

when he sleeps, sukuna will purr a little if he's having a good dream...if you get lucky, you might catch mokuna awake, trying not to laugh at it's host acting like a kitten in his sleep.

sukuna very rarely has nightmares, but occasionally will have short but vivid dreams about his childhood. he will never admit they bother him, but you know something is up when you feel him playing with your hair in the middle of the night. you let him have his moment, pretending to be asleep against his chest as he busies himself with your hair to distract his mind.

uraume and chiyo are the biggest gossips when put together, and while sukuna does his best to act as thought he thinks gossip is pointless, he's always listening attentively when they get to talking. "the new servant was caught sleeping with the local seamstress' husband? how whorish of him...was he the top or bottom?"

sukuna really, really, really likes seeing you in gold. if he could, he'd stare at you all day, in nothing but gold and jewels on the bed, looking like his little gold hoard as if he's some kind of dragon. if he wasn't so jealous, he'd have you like this publicly so everyone would know what a goddess would look like. but, he knows he'd violently maul anyone who sees you naked...that's for him and him only.

all rights reserved © lxnarphase | do not repost, copy, translate, or alter my work

[rory-cakes]

Alastor's Birdy

Alastor wasn’t a good man. 

In fact, he was no longer a man at all. 

He was the Radio Demon, an overlord of hell, owner of souls, and host of the Hazbin Hotel. 

The only evidence that he was ever human was the gold band worn around his ring finger. No one seemed to notice it; if they did, they didn’t dare ask. 

Not much was known about the terrifying radio demon. The others at the hotel often wondered about the origins of the great Alastor Altruist. 

Well, not until Mimzy comes along.

“Alastooor, Sweetie, doll-face! So good to see you. How’ve ya been? Good? Good.”

Alastor hugs the small woman while everyone stares in confusion. 

“Listen, I was in the neighborhood! I heard you were staying at this ritzy ditzy slob factory-”

A glint of gold catches the light.

“Oh! By the way, where’s your little birdy?”

Alastor’s who? The confusion only continued to grow in the room. 

“Oh, Mimzy, you know she would never have ended up down here.”

Who are they talking about?

“Ah yes, she was such a kind soul. The best of the best.”

Finally, someone asks. 

“Yo! Lady! Who ya talkin' about?”

“His missus, of course!”

His what?

“YOU WERE MARRIED?!”

Alastor’s eye twitched as private information about his life came to light.

“I am married; we never divorced.”

Everyone stared in disbelief. How could anyone marry Alastor, of all people? 

Wait-

“You said she would never have ended up down here. Does that mean that your wife is in heaven? Is she an angel?”

“Charlie, don’t be ridiculous! No one that good could have married him!” 

Mimzy pipes up,

“She’s right. Y/n Altruist was too good for the world and sang like a canary!” 

That she did…

“I fell in love with you the first time I looked into

Them there eyes

You've got a certain little cute way of flirtin' with

Them there eyes”

All eyes gazed upon the stage. His little birdy was much like him in how they entranced others with their voices. If all he heard for the rest of eternity was that beautiful song of hers, then he could die a happy man. 

“They make me feel happy

They make me blue

No stallin', I'm fallin'

Going in a great big way for sweet little you”

It was never supposed to last. It was just for a while to make him seem more normal. To hide his less than socially acceptable hobbies. But she was light, and he was a moth to a flame. As he felt the weight of the box in his hand he wondered how someone like him got blessed with someone like her. 

“My heart is jumpin', you sure started something with

Them there eyes

You'd better watch them if you're wise

They sparkle, they bubble

They're gonna get you in a whole lot of trouble

You're overworkin' them, there's danger lurkin' in

Them there eyes”

Her eyes brightened as they landed on him sitting at his usual table in the back. He was done with work early and had come to pick her up so they could walk home together. 

“I fell in love with you the first time I looked into

Them there eyes

You've got a certain little cute way of flirtin' with

Them there eyes” 

HIS. She was his. He was hers. They were each others.

The only proof that Alastor was ever human was the gold band around his ring finger.

A/N: Here's the fic lol @mag-chan

part 2

[timkontheunsure]

What Blitz regrets

Interestingly most of Blitz's memories are more accurate with people's expressions than Stolas' in all 2 u.

Here's how he remembers the fire.

He see the imp lady and Cash bookit passed him. Then the pink horse cuts across him.

Then him seeing Fizz and trying to direct help to him.

Next is him trying to get to his Muma

Then we get the aftermath of the fire. (Screaming face made of flame).

Cash grabbing Blitz by his freshly buried wrist to hold him in place to hit him. Immediately blaming him for an accident. His mom just died and his dad did this.

Then blocking access to Fizz, shoving Blitz away. Before lying that he never visited, and that Blitz deliberately set the fire, isolating and scapegoating Blitz.

Moving on to Ozzie's which is large part of his film of his regrets and envys.

Fizz hating him on sight.

And Verosika too.

oh but he missed Stolas getting up to try to defend him from her.

Blitz also focuses on his putting his hand away from Stolas trying to comfort him

Though you can see Stolas miss reads his expression right before. When Ozzie showed his daughter hating him, and had people side with his abuser because she was 'cheated on'.

Stolas being sad when the only thing they have is Stolas wanting to fuck him.

They are both forced on this bit. That they don't have a relationship where they talk and cuddle, because it wasn't a real date. He made sure of that.

(never say never Mr too much Imp to simp)

Stolas giving him the crystal and asking him to stay. Definitely shows the crystal is huge sore point for him.

Stolas was more focused on how surprised Blitz was.

Stolas walking away from him as Blitz yells that he'll apologise to everyone else. But never him. If he hadn't said the previous 'fuck you' making Stolas think he gave him a fake reason for blowing up at him, Stolas would have understood.

Stolas singing the line "I don't think you ment to hurt me, because I don't think it meant a thing at all to you"

Oof that must have hurt.

"This whole thing we had going... I'm- I mean you're a fucking prince. How could you ever actually care for an imp... Me? How could anybody". Oh he regrets not believing Stolas cared for him.

And regrets missing his chance to comfort Stolas. (Blitz failed a QTE).

But ok big big difference here! Blitz has definitely misunderstood. Stolas' isn't crying.

He's edited out what a mess Stolas was here. Like he's forgotten how drunk he was..

And Stolas kissing the twunk is a perfect match... Oh that got seared into his brain didn't it.

Pure envy

Blitz so badly want that kind of romantic relationship

Barbie telling him he's ruined her life, and she never wants to see him again. (Just going to sob in a corner here).

And Loona. Both times are fights about being really family.

Loona: Oh, what does it matter?! You're not my real dad! I was almost eighteen!

Blitzo: It still counts!

Loona: Well, it shouldn't! I didn't need you then, asshole! I don't, now

Blitz needs to be needed by the people he loves. Otherwise he thinks they're leave him

Blitzo: Oh, Loona, my sweet baby girl! I'm so sorry, I'll never replace you no matter what you--

Looks like he still worried that she hasn't really forgiven him for saying he's replace her.

Blitz isn't just talking about Stolas here. He thinks if he's bankrupted IMP Milli, Moxxie and Loona will all leave him too. Spirals to rock bottom in this one.

So glad Millie could help pull him out.

[shapelytimber]

And at last !! the baddies

Finaly they are all here !!!!!! The full recap/height chart will be ready soon :3c

ALSO ! I modified Padme's one a little (redid the portrait a bit and some other minor details), and added Sabé :)))) dw about it <3

[COMMISIONS]

[PART 1] - [PART 2] - [PART 3]

Yapping below vvv

Had a lot of fun with Palpatine's outfit !! She gets to dress dramaticaly like the rich influencial nabooian (?) woman she is (the gown is heavily inspired by a 1998 Dior dress) ! Of course after the creation of the empire she doesn't do that anymore :( evil old lady in a bathrobe didn't bother to brush her air for 20 years... Good for her ig

I must admit.... Dooku's design is the most indulgent one here, it's targeted to *me* specifically fjfkdk like this outfit (minus the cape...for now) would be something I would wear, the dracula vibes because it's christopher lee and I have no problem what so ever with the hammer draculas, the feminine tall older woman- so yeah maybe I pushed the sith vibes a bit, and gave her the shadow the hedgehog color palette... But this is one of my faves design here sue me

For Boba I redesigned the og trilogy look a little bit, by taking some elements from disney's design and adding a bit of my own flaire to it :) and giving her a *big gun*

And for the first time..... You can trully appreciate how tiny Boba is jdndk big gun for tiny butch

Vader is just Vader- what do you want from me this is one of the best designs ever created djdk I'm not changing anything here (but this *is* one of the best Vader I ever drew jfkdkd don't know what I did different but he looks great !)

And Sabé is here now !! nothing to do with the fact I stumbled upon the Sabédala ship and it has occupied my mind ever since jfkfj Anyway ! Had a lot of fun with the flame dress (I know it doesn't contrast well with Padmé's, but I really wanted to do this one :(( the over handmaiden's outfits weren't as iconic imo)

PS : link to a post explaining why Vader uses he/him and Anakin she/her

[tiddygame]

Simon started his sleeve well before he became Ghost.

It started when Joseph was about 3 1/2 and Simon got a nasty scar on his arm that made the poor kid upset every time he saw it. Joseph knew that it didn’t still hurt, but for him it was a reminder that is uncle was always in danger. It scared the kid to think about what caused it, even though Simon assured him that he was okay.

So after a brief discussion with Beth and Tommy, he figured he’d get a tattoo to cover it up. A sleeve would be expensive, but if it meant Joseph didn’t cry every time he saw the scar on his uncle's arm, it would be worth it.

It took some looking around for an artist that was willing to tattoo scar tissue and one that he trusted, but it wasn’t long before he was scheduling a consult.

Then he realized he had no fucking idea what he wanted to get tattooed.

He felt like getting a flaming skull or half naked lady permanently etched into his skin would defeat the purpose and he most certainly was not going to get something in a language he didn’t speak.

His mom jokingly suggested that he could get a floral sleeve and cover his arm in flowers.

And, well, it was close enough to a dare that he couldn’t turn it down so a few weeks later, he’s got his appointment set up to turn his arm into a garden.

He has quite a few types of flowers in there (some that his mom loves, some that Beth and Tommy had at their wedding, etc. etc.) with vines and leaves to fill in the gaps

The appointments are quite far apart with his deployment, Simon didn’t want to deal with a healing tattoo in the field. They started at the scar, covering it up and then expanding from there.

Joseph loves the flowers.

He was always so excited when Simon let him fill them in like his arm was a coloring book, even if he still struggled to stay in the lines.

He used to cry every time Simon left and it would break his heart, but now Joseph demanded that his uncle return as fast as he could so he could go back to coloring his arm and talking about sharks.

Joseph loved the flowers.

It took a while for him to go back.

There was no reason to, not anymore. He had more scars, but there wasn’t anyone he had to hide them from.

The tattoo was left unfinished for a long time, only part of his forearm was done.

Ghost didn’t care. He wore long sleeves even in weather warm enough to cause heatstroke; he couldn’t look at it.

When he did, he didn’t see an unfinished tattoo, he saw his nephew. Saw him looking up at his uncle with big brown eyes, begging Simon to carry him. Saw him sleeping under the Christmas tree.

Eventually he returned. He requested a slight change to the design and showed the artist a photo of four headstones and the bouquets that accompanied them

(There was a fifth, partially out of frame and cut off, vase empty)

The artist nodded and got to work.

In the new sketch, a few new flowers were added, but the first thing Ghost noticed were the four little garter snakes that had been weaved through the petals.

Ghost nodded and that was that.

Every now and then a rookie would see it and start to laugh, but when they remembered the reputation of the man they were laughing at, it was quickly cut off with hasty (and futile) apologies. (They were still going to end up running laps until they vomited up their lungs.)

It was rare that he was exposed enough for people to see the tattoo and from a distance, it just looked like a simple sleeve. It wasn’t long before his little garden became a lesser known rumor that followed him around and joined the other whispers.

Ghost didn’t care. He didn’t get the tattoo for himself or any prying eyes. From the moment he booked the consultation to leaving the parlor with his sleeve complete, it was all for Joseph.

The rookies could spread whatever rumors they want, his nephew would have loved it and that’s all he wanted.

The first time Soap got a proper look, he just stared at it for a while before going off on a story about when he was little and picked up a snake thinking it was a stick.

From anyone else, it would have felt like that were trying to change the subject so they didn’t have to acknowledge that The Ghost had such a “feminine” tattoo.

From Soap, it was comforting in an odd way. It was obvious that Soap wanted a better look at it, but he never pushed Ghost. Just like the mask, Soap was patient.

Later down the line, it would morph into quiet nights with Johnny tracing the lines and trying to identify each type of flower. He’d look to Simon for any clues but would complain that Simon always looked too love-struck for his facial expression to give any hints on if he was getting close.

Simon didn’t deny these claims but still refused to offer any help.

And even longer after that, Johnny would shakily color in the petals as he tries to regain his fine motor skills.

The markers would often slip out his hands and the shakiness meant he couldn’t stay within the lines, but the fact that he was there at a all, debating which pink to use on the peonies and getting frustrated with himself when he couldn’t get the cap back on, was enough of a miracle that Simon could barely keep himself together as his sleeve regained its color for the first time in years.

When Johnny was done, Simon hugged him with one arm, holding the tatted one up and away so that the new ink wouldn’t smudge.

Eventually, Simon would tell the story of why he got the tattoo, even if Johnny already had a pretty good guess based on the wistful look Simon had when talking about it. He would tell him which ones his mom loved, which ones had been at Beth and Tommy’s wedding, and which ones were just the artist adding some to make it more cohesive.

But for now, they would hold onto each other tightly, neither of them willing to separate. Maybe for some, crying over a box of sharpies wasn’t a happy ending, but Simon didn’t care. He had Johnny in his arms and that was all he could ask for.