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aebinspa · 2 days ago

Text

meant to be

PAIRING: karina x y/n reader

SUMMARY: Your life couldn’t have been worse. You aspired to make a living as a photographer, but instead, you found yourself working in a fast-food restaurant alongside a colleague who rarely offered you any good company. Everything changed when the famous model Karina showed up at your workplace. After a few days, she managed to convince the editorial team to hire you as the photographer for her photoshoot. However, your career faced another threat when Karina pressured you to assist her with a strictly confidential operation.

GENRES: angst, lies, loneliness, we will face suffering in this life, but eventually, things will improve, and we will start over again and again, fluff at the end.

WORD COUNT: 6.9k

AUTHOR'S NOTE: english is not my first language! i'm not cut out for writing long stories. i went crazy countless times while writing this one :)) i added a little bit every day and it made the story more confusing. the next five things I write will be fluff, no more angst for a while + thank you for all the support you have shown for what i wrote. i am extremely grateful and happy that someone was able to appreciate them!

Life didn't end when you lost all your friends because of bad choices, didn't know where to put your hands, or stopped recognizing yourself in what you did and said. Life didn't end when you turned twenty. At least that's what you told yourself every morning to convince yourself to get up, when even what had previously seemed sensible lost all meaning.

In the eyes of your parents and your old friends, you had remained imprinted as a sour girl, difficult to manage but who, beyond some character problems, had always shown herself willing to help. Never to be helped. Perhaps this had a powerful impact. In your daily life, no one asked how you were in the morning. Was it more difficult for others to reach out to you and always receive a refusal or was it more difficult for you now to be alone, without anyone? And yet loneliness had always been so dear to you; a space where you could truly be yourself.

After trying to attend political science university for a few months and failing the first exam, you soon realized that it wasn't for you. The only luck was having met a girl who, between one lesson and another, had introduced you to the world of photography.

In photography, you discover a kind of joy that you could share. Often others would ask you for photos and you, with a big smile, couldn't wait to take one. Of course, everything got complicated when you had to come to terms with reality. There was no longer just photography, you also had to think about earning some money.

That's how you ended up working at a fast food restaurant that was open all day and, with the constant fear of running out of money at any moment, you signed up for all the night shifts. Someone had set you up by telling you that they paid more, but only when your first paycheck arrived did you realize that your dear colleague only wanted to get rid of the difficult shifts.

That night, you and Sunwoo, the beloved colleague who had actually made fun of you a few years earlier, were at the counter of the fast food restaurant busy playing UNO. It was more than rare to see customers at two in the morning.

“UNO!” Sunwoo shouted at the top of his lungs. “Fuck you, asshole! I’m tired and you dare win my favorite card game!” you threw the remaining cards of the deck off the counter. Sunwoo huffed and, with an agile leap, got off the counter and went to retrieve the poor cards that were now lying on the floor that was far too clean for the hygiene standards of the place where you worked. “It’s the only card game you know how to play, Y/n”

It was cold outside. A cold that froze the bones. Your winter uniforms didn’t warm you enough and the heating had suddenly stopped working the day before. Sunwoo didn't let it show, but he hated working more than you did. He had a dream more ambitious than yours and unfortunately, every door was closed in his face. The fast food place where he worked with you was the daily confirmation that failure was a constant in his life. And you were experiencing the same situation first-hand.

Sometimes photography gave you work, but you couldn't eat from it. Small jobs are undoubtedly formative, but not appealing to the taste of those big companies that looked at your disastrous portfolio.

While Sunwoo began to sweep the clean floor, you, lost in your thoughts, froze, feelinglessly staring at the street you looked at every night. Suddenly, you saw a black limousine approaching, and, scared that someone important might be there, you shook Sunwoo’s arm and pointed to the car. His eyes widened as well.

But to your surprise, the first person to step out of the car was a man in a tuxedo who then proceeded to open the back door facing the fast-food restaurant. A girl of medium height came out, wearing a black dress that hugged her body in all the right places. When she was closer to the door, you immediately noticed, illuminated by the decadent lights of the place where you were, that she had heavy makeup on her face that beautifully framed her eyes.

The young raven-haired girl sat on the stool in front of the counter. Sunwoo was still speechless. He could only mutter a shy, unprofessional “Ah, hi,” to which the girl responded with a sweet smile. Her gaze shifted to you and you flinched.

“Can I order?” she reached out to grab the menu Sunwoo had sat on earlier. “I guess so.” “The menu with the fattest, greasiest, biggest sandwich you have, please.” Sunwoo snatched the menu out of her hands and shouted “Right away!”, disappearing into the kitchen and leaving you in front of the girl. Outside, you noticed her date glaring at you.

“Not many customers come by, do they?” “We don’t usually see anyone. That’s why your visit surprised us a lot” The girl laughed in a strangely loud way. Strange, I thought she was more composed. “God, please. We will be more or less the same age, don't be so formal,” she wiped her hands on her dress laughing, and then looked at you ready to shake your hand “I'm Karina. It’s a stage name. I model full-time."

You shook hands with her, apologizing for how cold and greasy it might feel. “Well, I… I work here.” The girl smiled at you. “And do you like working here?” “What?”

Sunwoo came with Karina’s order and placed it before her, avoiding her gaze. When he crossed yours, you noticed that the boy had red cheeks. I whispered something to you but you didn’t understand.

It’s been too long since someone asked you what it was like to live a life you no longer wanted. Your mouth dried up and you were unable to answer. Karina shrugged and began eating the sandwich undisturbed.

With her mouth still full from the bite she had just taken, the model opened up to speak. It was evident she was nothing like the stereotype of a typical model; her authenticity was refreshing. Feeling overwhelmed, you moved two stools away from the client, seeking a bit of distance as you listened, intrigued by her unique charm.

"You took those, didn’t you?" Karina found it difficult to eat that part, but she couldn’t help but examine the few decorations in the fast-food restaurant. "Ah, those pictures," you turned your entire body to look at them. "Yes, I took all of them. They’re from our customers who left a special tip." "Special tip?" Karina asked, intrigued. "Yes, for a change of $4, you receive a Polaroid and agree to have it displayed on this wall. It’s not worth much, though, because I’m required to take two pictures for the price of one."

"They are all very pretty. I know some people." "There are a lot of people passing by. Sometimes they tell you their story, take a picture, and then leave, never to return. It’s almost as if-" "Romantic, yes" Karina finished the sentence for you, to your great surprise.

The silence that was created afterward was strangely comfortable. For someone like you who was always uncomfortable when she met strangers, the situation was quite strange. Karina, on the other hand, seemed completely at ease as she was happily humming and chewing at the same time. When the crow finished eating, she got up from her stool, stretched her arms, and put ten euros on the counter.

"Please don't make me change." "Pardon?" "I would like one of those photos. I'm looking forward to experiencing this too." What enthusiasm!

You took the Polaroid and waited for the young woman to pose before taking the picture. Karina made a big heart with her arms and gave you a wink. She is truly a model… "Are you done?" "Done!"

Karina approached you, then stood behind you and waited for the Polaroid to be ready. When she was ready, the girl screamed full of joy. You smiled unconsciously. "I love it, thank you!" she leaned it delicately on the counter and then turned quickly towards you, continuing to talk. "Let’s take the other one! Let’s do it together. Where is that boy? Boy! Boy! Ehiii!" Sunwoo ran out of the kitchen alarmed. "What- what happened?" "Nothing, Sunwoo" You put your hand on your forehead. "Can you take a picture of us? So we can hang it there." Sunwoo looked for your eyes but you avoided him, unable to explain. At which the boy approached the polaroid and urged you to pose. Karina chose the same place where all the other clients had been, saying she would keep the theme, and invited you to place yourself next to her.

Karina was a little taller than you, maybe a few centimeters, but in your eyes there seemed to be a huge difference. You stood closer to her to form the heart and pretended a smile of convenience to allow Sunwoo to take this photo. The proximity to the model sent a bizarre sensation creeping along your spine. Intrigued, you paused to take a closer look at her. In that moment, when no one else was watching, the radiant smile she had worn so confidently faded entirely from her face. Her eyes, once sparkling with warmth, now seemed overshadowed by a deep, unsettling darkness that only amplified her presence. Without warning, the model turned her gaze toward you, her lips curving into a wide grin that revealed a perfect set of thirty-two gleaming teeth. A chill swept over you, wrapping around your body like an icy blanket, leaving you momentarily breathless and disoriented. What the fuck?

"You did such a great job, girls. It's rare for Y/n!" You woke up from the nightmare of falling and responded to Sunwoo with a raised middle finger. "Oh, she's got quite an attitude. I need to leave," Karina said, finally letting go of you after holding you tightly. That girl was beginning to stir strange feelings in you. "The photo turned out just fine. Let me sign it and put the date on it. Come on!" Sunwoo timidly passed the Polaroid to the girl and watched her do everything she said.

With your arms folded you waited for her comfortable finish. Karina approached the corkboard and put your Polaroid on it. He smiled at her and turned, heading for the exit.

"Y/n!" Hearing your name pronounced by the model, you turned to her with an interrogative look. "Tell me" "See you!" and ran off into the limo, leaving behind a trail of expensive perfume and a cheap Polaroid.

That night passed faster than expected and Sunwoo told you - with attached photos - how this fantastic Karina was one of the most popular models in recent years. Besides being beautiful, she was about to debut in the cinema world. The moon was full and the cold was more bitter than usual. An uncomfortable feeling was in your chest, but you let it pass.

While you were going to work the next day, you took some pictures at the illuminated windows of that night. One of the projects you had since moving to that city was to create a collection of photos showing nightlife, although it was difficult to call it "life", of the traders, workers, or people just going out for fun. But you didn’t have enough prestige and money.

When you arrived at work, you greeted Sunwoo coldly, who returned. You worked hard until three in the morning because, as you well know, on Saturday mornings there were waves of guys full of life coming back from bars where they had only drunk, or from discos in the area. You found it a good opportunity to take some pictures for your photo project.

In no time at all it was six o'clock. The sun was beginning to rise and the first rays of sunshine came through the large windows of the structure. You and Sunwoo were getting ready for the end of the shift, but the boy seemed particularly agitated so you told him to leave before you. You would have waited for the other girl to give her the keys and start the shift after. Sunwoo thanked you and ran away. You knew how much he cared about his passion.

The sound of the door creaking open cut through the stillness of the room, jolting you from your thoughts. You glanced at the clock on the wall, your brow furrowing as you noted it was already twenty minutes past the time your colleague was supposed to arrive. Just as you were about to call out, "You’re lat—" your words caught in your throat. Standing in the doorway was not your expected colleague, but the enigmatic man who had accompanied Karina the night before. He stood there, an air of mystery surrounding him, his presence both intriguing and unsettling as he caught your eye.

"How can I help you?" you asked, even though you were pressed for time and the only one in the room. "I was looking for you. It was lucky that I found you right away," the other person replied. You tightened your grip on the broom you had been pretending to sweep with just moments before. "For what purpose?" you inquired.

The man reached into his pocket and pulled out a crisp white card, sliding it across the table to you. You glanced down to see a neatly printed address alongside the name: Vogue, Karina’s Photoshoot. Confusion washed over you as you looked back up at him. "What does this mean?" you asked. He shifted uneasily, avoiding your gaze. "Miss Karina has requested that you oversee her new photoshoot," he explained, his tone heavy with discomfort. "The previous photographer was let go… rather abruptly. I expect you to be at the studio in two days."

Your hands shook as you faced a big opportunity. You nodded slowly, your mouth half open, unsure what to say. The man smiled and walked away, leaving you stunned. The broom fell from your hands and clattered to the floor. Your knees felt weak, and your mind went blank for a moment. You couldn’t think. You wondered how powerful Karina was and what she wanted from you.

The next day you showed up in the hall of the huge palace, waiting fearlessly for someone to come and call you. You had spent the night before reading and browsing photography books or looking at random palettes that could help you match any clothing you found on Karina.

A tall woman approached you slowly, her expression grim as she pointed to a location on the map she had just tossed at you. What a kindness… You quickly walked toward the meeting place and, upon finding the door, opened it carefully. Inside, a crew of about twenty people turned their curious gazes toward you, along with Karina and her manager.

You slowly approached your collaborators and thanked them timidly for their attention. "We will do everything that needs to be done and we will accomplish it together. All we should do is unite everyone’s ideas and give life to some of the most beautiful photos ever made" Karina, sitting in a velvet chair, put her hand in front of her and laughed candidly.

It didn’t take five hours to create everything that needed to be created. The ideas came from everyone like a river in full flow. Fill a room with artists who are also competitive people and you will get the exact personification of an erupting volcano. You were the Vesuvius and the fashion industry was your Pompeii. The next day you swore to finish the project so that you could go on with the production of the photos.

Karina, who should have been bored at least by having spent the day waiting for others to do their jobs, approached you with a remarkable delicacy and touched your shoulder. "Can you come over there?" Karina pointed to a closet nearby; it was her dressing room. "Uhm, sure" There was no reason to say no. You looked over your shoulder before entering the dressing room with the girl with the brown hair. It was the first time you saw her in a suit and all you could think about was how well she wore anything. It must be nice.

Karina invited you to sit in the two-seater chair with her. Hesitantly, you approached and sat face to face with the girl who flashed a smile revealing thirty-two teeth. "I brought you here because—" You interrupted her before she could finish. "Let’s say you fired the photographer from Vogue so I could come here." "An insignificant detail," she replied.

In Karina's eyes, you saw the same darkness you had observed a few days earlier. It made you hesitant to speak, fearing the words wouldn't come out right. "You must help me," she said. "Why should I?" you asked. Karina rose from her chair and stood in the middle of the room, her expression unreadable as she continued to gaze at you.

"You must. And if you don’t, I’ll take the only real opportunity you’ve got in your miserable life off your hands." "What’s the excuse?" the conversation seemed too much for you, so you immediately put yourself on defense. "You are a beautiful girl, you are good at what you do. I like your photos, I am sincere" "But?"

The frigid air enveloped the room, wrapping around you like an unwelcome shroud, making each breath feel laborious and strained. With every second that passed, a chilling sensation crept through your body, as if the very warmth within you was being siphoned away, leaving you increasingly vulnerable to the oppressive cold.

“You must photograph the emerging actress and model Yuna at a moment that could cause a scandal and ruin her career forever.” “This is fucking crazy,” you jumped up and approached Karina, who didn’t move an inch “I’m leaving, I don’t intend to keep this job and do whatever bullshit you came up with. I knew you were crazy, I understood it immediately"

Karina rolled her eyes, grabbed your arm, and pushed you into the seat. “You’re not going anywhere. I’m capable of destroying your present life and your future life. Be careful what you do. Listen to me and calm down” Karina’s hands were extremely cold but your gaze was even more icy.

“Speak then, cheap model” “It will all be anonymous. Become her friend and her photographer. You have one week. The clock runs out before the day you have to send the completed photoshoot to the Vogue editorial office” “It’s called blackmail” “It’s called seizing opportunities. You won’t get them again”

You looked away for a moment before getting up from your chair and moving back to the center of the room. You walked back and forth, occasionally glancing at Karina.

“They’ll kill me anyway when they realize it’s me” “Don’t worry,” Karina stood up to get closer to you, “We’ll use an external computer and no one will ever know” “A person will be involved, I don’t think I’m capable of it” “She won’t die” Karina had an amused grin on her face.

You thought back to Sunwoo and how he loved what he did like no one else. However, the most selfish part of you had surfaced. You wanted to pursue a career in photography, and you were unconcerned about the people who would be affected by your ambition. You would have done anything to make your dream a reality.

“I’m in” You held out your hand to Karina, surprised by your sudden change of heart. When Karina squeezed your hand you noticed it was as cold as yours. And that perhaps you were more similar than you could have imagined.

You never imagined that the next day you would find yourself taking pictures of the woman who had asked you to ruin the life of another model without remorse. You had discovered that all your collaborators considered Karina a sweet, kind, and always available girl, while in your eyes, every time you looked at her, you felt like you were looking at a monster.

Once the photoshoot was over and, therefore, the work you had to do for Vogue, you walked into the Karaoke where Karina had asked you to meet. The room was insolently small - maybe the girl liked everything smaller - and the nauseating smell made you immediately understand what kind of dump it was.

“Don’t you like it here?” asked Karina, who was cross-legged and munching on some chips, which she offered you and you refused. “It’s pretty disgusting” “It’s okay. We won’t be here long”

Karina took her Gianni Chiarini bag and pulled out three photos. One was of Yuna, the other of a girl you couldn’t identify, and in the last photo, there was you.

“What does that mean?” “Yuna is having an affair with this girl.” Karina touched the face print of the girl whose name you didn’t know with her painted nail and then continued. “In case you didn’t understand, your photo is there because I wanted to let you know that I had you followed a week before I showed up at your place of work by a trusted friend of mine.” “What?” you were visibly shocked. “Don’t worry, honey. I will only use the information I have on you if you don’t cooperate.” A disturbing smile made you doubt her sincerity.

“Why are you so mad at this girl?” “Because she can’t keep what’s hers.” “What does that mean translated…?” Karina huffed and put the photos back in her bag. “We grew up in this industry together. We achieved success together. And then she cheated on me.”

You were stunned. “All this just because he didn't hold your hand throughout the journey of your life? Are you crazy-” “She cheated on me countless times. She told my parents that I’m a lesbian, they haven’t spoken to me since that day. And to top it all off, she stopped me from working for a year, taking away the most important collaboration of my life”

You almost felt sorry, but you didn’t say anything. Her eyes radiated something else. Maybe she too was human and was simply tired.

“Become her new fuck buddy. Treat her well and then you can be sure that you’ll end up finding her making out with someone else. Take as many pictures as you can and you’ll be free forever” “I don’t- Who told you I like women?” “My dear friend” “God, fuck Karina” “Um, maybe this collaboration will lead to something good?”

You looked up in shock and found a rather smiling Karina. “Do you start talking about sex when you're done talking about revenge? You’re crazy.” “I can’t help it if revenge turns me on like crazy.” Karina slowly ran her tongue over her upper lip, while you looked at her with wide eyes.

“Are you really… My god, you do this to everyone?” “Everyone who? You’re probably the last woman in three years that I’ve found truly attractive!” You rested your face on the fist you’d created with your right hand.

“Do you feel lonely?” Karina looked at you intently and nodded, gently moving her head. “Me too. That’s why I’ll help you. I see reflected in your eyes the same sadness that I feel." That's what it was.

“Y/n” “Tell me” “Do a good job” “I’ll try”

Karina finished all the chips that were left on the table, while you looked at her intently and prayed that the day you would meet Yuna would never come.

Unexpectedly, you received a call the next day: a very familiar voice invited you to participate in a graphic project that involved twenty different photographers who would take pictures of Yuna during a typical month of hers at the beach. Fans are certainly crazy to buy this, but it's all for the career, right?

Your first encounter with Yuna was ordinary. Where normal means you were struck by how tall and beautiful she was, even though Karina had gotten you used to it well. Yuna walked over to you and pulled you into a tight hug. “Y/n, right? I saw some photos of your portfolio and I loved them. The way you capture what's around is extremely sincere. Thank you for accepting. I am eternally grateful”

Yuna was warm. You noticed it immediately. Her body temperature had nothing to do with Karina's. Yuna's smile, moreover, really showed a sincere kindness. The photos you took were delicate, beautiful, and… real. But you remembered what Karina had told you and quickly came to your senses.

You spent two days taking photographs for one of the most beloved women in the world - that's what the charts said - and on the last evening, Yuna and her manager dragged all twenty of you to a pub.

Yuna, clearly drunk, stood up on a chair and started screaming. “Thank you! You were amazing! This project will come out amazing. Now let’s get our glasses up, we have to celebrate!” As everyone downed a few glasses of beer, you noticed a familiar face looking sweetly at Yuna. It was her girlfriend. You asked the boy next to you to switch seats and, perhaps nodding his head, he permitted you.

"Hi, I'm Y/n" "Ah, nice to meet you, I'm Haseul! Yuna showed me your photos. They're beautiful, congratulations" How cute, I almost feel sorry for using her like that. "I see you're looking at Yuna with sweet eyes… Is there something underneath?" the little laugh you let out right after should have helped break the tension, but it only made it grow even more. Haseul wiped the sweat on her pants and then spoke to you.

"I love her more than anyone else in the world" Ah. "It must be nice to love someone" You ran a hand uncomfortably behind your neck. "It's nice to have someone by your side. We're almost always together. I only have her. After what Yuna went through last year, she's become even stronger" A strong curiosity grew in you.

"What happened to her?" "Her ex-girlfriend cheated on her, Yuna found out and told her parents to shoot her an arrow that would cause her the same pain" "That's not possible" "Plus Yuna lost a very important job with Saint Laurent. She spent sleepless nights because of Karin-" Haseul quickly covered her face with her hands.

"Karina. Are you sure it was her fault?" "Ask anyone you want. She lied to everyone and messed up half the plans of people here just to go out and cheat on her girlfriend. Everyone hates her. She's just a pretty face in this industry"

Your head started to spin, maybe from drinking too much alcohol. “I’m going to get some fresh air!” “Shall I accompany you?” “It doesn’t matter, thanks.”

Outside, on the side of an empty road, you threw up next to a dumpster. Karina had been lying to you. She was evil, she was crazy, and a total dickhead. Everyone knew it but you. Because you had been a normal person until the week before. You had seen the surface, never what was underneath.

You understood that Karina would treat you like Yuna. You understood that the only solution would be to refuse, but your career was at stake.

Yuna came out and walked over to you. “I’m sorry you found out. I know everything. Karina isn’t the only one who can spy on people without being accused.” “Do you know everything?” “From the stupid meeting at the fast food restaurant to the job opportunities she offered you. Her dear friend, aka her manager, is Shin Yuna here’s dearest friend.”

You looked into her eyes. “I’ll have to… No, hurt you. I don’t want to.” I wanted to, but now I don’t want to anymore. “It doesn’t matter. Do it.” “How could I?” Haseul came closer to the two of you. “You can’t hurt us. When you find someone in life who loves you, life has a whole different meaning.”

The cold suddenly hit you. And, strangely, you thought for a second that those two were crazy. “Yuna would lose her job,” you continued “But I will never lose the people I love. And anyway,” Yuna put her arm around Haseul’s waist, “I won’t be in this industry for long.”

Haseul looked you in the eyes and smiled. “Don’t worry.”

As you made your way home, your eyes caught the massive posters of Karina that adorned the streets yet, beneath your admiration, a swirl of conflicting emotions surged inside you; you couldn't shake the nagging feeling that she was not only a bit unpredictable but also a master of deception. Despite all that, you felt an undeniable urge to kiss her.

The karaoke seemed more rotten than usual. Karina didn’t seem to belong there at all. The last day, the decisive one, had now arrived. You sat down, like the last time, in front of the raven-haired girl.

“Hi, Y/n. I see you well. How are you?” “Better than you can imagine” “My ears only want to hear good news”

You took her usual bag of chips from her hands and started munching on them. “What do you think of your modeling job?” “I hate it” Karina, to your surprise, answered without even thinking for a second. “Why?” “There is no sincerity in what I do. But it is the only job that puts me in contact with hundreds of people a week. It makes me feel less alone”

You put the chips on the table and took out the incriminating photos. “Yuna and Haneul, as you asked me and here I have,” you took out the USB stick, “the murder weapon!” Karina looked at you with wide eyes. “Did you… Do it?” “Your charm won me over, unfortunately, I have to admit it” Even though You were ironic, Karina's cheeks turned pink.

Karina pulled out a computer without making eye contact with you. Then she ordered you to open it. In front of your eyes was a fairly famous site where you were supposed to upload incriminating photos of Yuna and Haseul.

“Y/n. I have to tell you something" As you wrote the description of the photos you would publish immediately after, you signaled Karina to continue.

“Maybe it's because I haven't felt someone's affection for a long time, maybe it's because I can't look at myself in the mirror anymore without crying but…” “After Karina, after” “You said…” “Let me talk”

Seeing Karina so vulnerable and with teary eyes made you feel guilty, but what you wanted to do you would have done without complaining. Karina, however, seemed ready to let go of everything, to take a decisive step.

“Karina, kiss me” “Why should I do that? Are you crazy?” “Last time you seemed intent on doing much more!” you raised your voice. “If I kiss you it’s only because I want to show you how I feel!”

You both were incredibly close. The intensity of the conversation had drawn you from the karaoke sofas, and now you stood face to face, the air feeling thick between you. Karina was the first to make a move. She reached behind your neck, gripped your hair tightly, and swallowed hard. You didn't want to initiate the kiss; you wanted her to take the lead. And that’s exactly what she did. Karina leaned in and pressed her lips against yours, but the kiss was tentative, almost shy. She clearly wanted you to respond, but you held back. The kiss ended before it truly began.

“Why?” she asked, embarrassed. You, in response, checked your phone and went back to finishing the article on the computer. You connected your phone to the computer and transferred the photos.

“What about the USB stick?” “I’ll give it to you as soon as I’m finished”

Five minutes passed before you closed the computer. The die was cast. And so is your life and Karina's. There was no turning back, in any way.

“Y/n?” “Done” “Good…” Karina grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around herself. You did the same.

“Why did you lie to me?” “What are you talking about, Y/n? “Tell me the truth. Haseul and Yuna told me everything. I also spoke to other colleagues. All the same version. You’re a liar, Karina.”

Karina looked back at you with a blank stare. “And what are you?” “That’s not the point.” Karina slammed her fist on the table. “From everything they told you, did you only understand that I’m a liar?” “How can I trust you, Karina?”

Karina hugged the blanket and started biting her nails. "You know when I'm lying. You can feel it. You know when I’m not natural. I understood immediately when we met that there was a different connection between us." “Do you say that to everyone?” “You’re not funny, Y/n!” Karina screamed and threw the bag of chips in your direction, making a mess in the room.

“It’s not funny to make fun of people. You used me.” “I didn’t!” “So what did you do, Karina? How would you call what you did?” “I tried to keep you as close as possible… I don’t have anyone. Yuna wanted to leave me and I had sex with someone else the next day! Our relationship was over.” “People can’t love you if you pretend to be someone else.” “Everyone abandoned me. They abandoned me when I pretended to be the sweet and kind Karina and when I was the real Karina!”

Karina seemed to have reached a point of no return, but you could do nothing but pity her. Now you just had to tell her your truth.

“Karina, listen to me. Yuna got what she got because she moved on and recognized that love can be found anywhere. Her career is worth a thousand times more than a career like yours that was built on pain. Just forget about this life. Start over again." “The only one I have is my manager. I have no ambitions, I have no love. I just wanted someone to feel the way I do.” “We all fight for something, Karina! I fight for photography and you’ve been fighting against yourself for too long!”

Karina seemed to be furious. “You don’t understand. I’ve been alone all my life! The only one who’s close to me is my manag-” “No, he’s Yuna’s informant. When he handed me the ticket for Vogue, I immediately understood that he was not on your side, Karina”

“Karina” “I hate you. Will you stop throwing the truth in my face? I know, damn, I know I’m alone. I've never gotten along well with anyone. But with you, I had a good time. Time never seemed to end. You’ll abandon me too. You all do the same when I show you how I am”

You turned the computer towards her. “Karina, I posted the photos. Look at them. First, breathe and then rationalize” Karina did as you said, too vulnerable to go against you.

When she saw the article with the photo of you she couldn’t say a word. She just asked you, in a weak voice, why you did it. “We can start over, Karina. They already had everything. In their eyes, I saw what was missing in ours. Rise from the ashes Karina or die forever, it would make more sense than continuing to pretend to live in someone else’s body”

You got up from the room, knowing that the news with the photo of you and Karina kissing would do more harm to her than to you. You shut the door behind you. You turned around. Outside you waited for Karina, hoping she would come out so you could comfort her. But that didn’t happen.

The news caused a scandal. The billboards with Karina disappeared, her role as the lead actress in that new movie was deleted and for more than a month, all anyone talked about was that photo. No one recognized your face; next to Karina, you looked quite bad. Yuna called you and guaranteed that your name and work would remain in the photo book. The Vogue photos were never published. You stuck them up, with Sunwoo’s help, in the fast food restaurant.

Sometimes someone stopped to observe them and Sunwoo took care of answering their questions. Very naturally, he said that Karina loved coming to this fast food restaurant - before it disappeared - and that you were her favorite.

Six months had gone by, yet the ache in your chest refused to fade, a constant reminder of the unresolved feelings haunting you. Each night, you lay alone in bed, tears soaking your pillow, knowing that no one would come to comfort you—and that no one would offer her the same kindness. In those haunting hours, you grappled with memories and regrets, feeling the weight of your sorrow pressing down on you like a heavy shroud.

“What a beautiful day! Life has never been so beautiful!” “Sunwoo, it’s just your first role in a stupid TV series” “A stupid TV series that you’ll watch!”

You and Sunwoo had become great workmates again. This time, you were the one who requested more hours, and Sunwoo, despite having found a second job, had decided to work alongside you in each of them.

Sometimes you look at the street illuminated by the street lamps. You hadn't been able to move on. After Yuna’s photobook came out, your name appeared on many other projects. You had started working with many more idols. But there was no one like her.

“Still thinking about it?” “My mind is occupied with her, Sunwoo” “You couldn’t contact her?” “No one has her number and no one has been close to her. At least I know she’s not dead” “Yeah…”

It was four in the morning on a random Thursday when a black car pulled up on the road and parked in front of the fast food restaurant. Sunwoo let out a scream and hid behind the counter. “Is that the police? What have you done, Y/n?” “Stop it, you idiot, and get the emergency number ready. You never know”

But a woman with blonde hair, no makeup, and wearing a sweatshirt that looked very expensive, stepped out of the car. At first, you and Sunwoo couldn’t figure out who she was, you could only guess that she was extremely attractive from the way she walked.

When the first light from the fast food restaurant hit her face, Karina revealed herself to you with a shy smile. “Sunwoo…” she waved at the boy. “And well… Y/n… How are you doing?”

Sunwoo let out another scream. This time you did the same. Then you started to cry, unable to control your emotions. Karina threw herself at you and hugged you with teary eyes. After you both calmed down, Sunwoo fried you two large portions of fries and left the place for a moment, pretending to have received a call.

“Y/n. I look at you…” “Terribly, terribly” “Yes, well. You’ve lost weight” You squeezed her hands tightly. Warm tears fell onto Karina's white hands.

“Sorry” “Stop it, it’s okay. Look at me” Karina took your face in her hands and forced you to look at her. Then she continued to speak. “It had to be this way. I was reborn from the ashes, okay? But I want you to do the same. Let’s help each other. We’ve been alone for too long and…”

Karina stopped to look at the road, her eyes shining. “I missed you. The real you is so annoying, sexy, and cute at the same time. I'm happy to hear you're well."

Karina then looked back at you and looked at the palms of your hands. “Come with me. I'm full of money. Let's run away from here, let's go where no one knows us" "Karina" "It doesn't matter if you tell me now. You destroyed my previous life though! I expect you to pick up the broken pieces and put them back together"

She made you laugh and you thanked fate for having met her. You gave her a sweet kiss on the cheek. Karina looked at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Are you just kissing me back?” “Karina, there’s a time for everything” “You know, Y/n, I have a few things I need to tell you about myself. Did you know that I especially love dark chocolate and hate milk chocolate?”

“Karina,” you stood up from the stool and locked your eyes with his. "Tell me, Y/n" “We have all the time to learn to love each other” “And we have all the time to learn to live”

Sunwoo burst into the fast food restaurant, his eyes glistening with tears of joy. He couldn’t contain his excitement as he shared the incredible news: he had secured a role in a film directed by a renowned filmmaker. The moment was electric, filled with laughter and heartfelt congratulations as you both celebrated his achievement. Before leaving this familiar place, you and Karina decided to capture the memory with a photo at the very spot where your journey had begun. As the camera clicked, you were acutely aware that this moment marked a turning point. You stood there, smiling and cherishing the memory, knowing deep down that you were ready to embrace the future and leave the past behind, resolutely moving forward without looking back.

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rose24207 · 13 hours ago

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More dark Mafia lando!!!! Please, or even just Mafia lando 🙏🙏😪😪

Shadows

Summary: Lando’s ruthless mafia life is shaken when his vulnerability, Y/N, becomes a target, forcing him to protect her at all costs.

Genre: Mafia!Lando, dark, fluff at the end

TW: Mafia, guns, threats

A/N: Thank you for the request! English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Masterlist

The rain lashed against the tall, arched windows of Lando Norris’s sprawling estate, each drop echoing in the oppressive silence of the grand hall. You stood at the edge of the room, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself. The faint hum of voices filtered in from a distant room, but you were too consumed by the weight of tonight’s events to notice.

Your life had taken an unrecognizable turn since you’d met Lando. What started as a charming stranger walking into your café had spiraled into a dangerous reality you were still learning to navigate. Lando wasn’t just the man who made your heart race—he was the heir to one of the most powerful mafia empires in Europe. And now, because of him, you had a target on your back.

You met Lando eight months ago during a quiet Friday evening at your café. He’d strolled in with an effortless confidence that turned heads, his dark curls slightly damp from the drizzle outside.

“Just a coffee, please,” he’d said, offering a smile that had disarmed you instantly.

Over time, his visits became routine. He was kind but reserved, always asking about your day, occasionally teasing you about your taste in music. You hadn’t thought much of it—until the day he invited you out for dinner.

What followed were months of quiet dates, stolen moments, and the growing realization that Lando was far more complicated than he let on. He was protective, secretive, and occasionally disappeared for days without explanation. When you finally confronted him, he didn’t lie.

“I’m not who you think I am,” he’d said, his voice heavy with regret.

That night, he told you everything. And instead of running, you stayed.

Tonight was different.

It started with a package left on the steps of your apartment. A black box, tied with a crimson ribbon. Inside was a single bullet and a note:

Stay away from him, or this has your name on it.

You hadn’t called Lando right away. You’d paced your apartment for hours, trying to convince yourself it was a prank. But when you finally showed him the note, the change in his demeanor was immediate.

He didn’t yell. He didn’t panic. He simply pulled out his phone, made a single call, and within minutes, his men were escorting you to his estate.

“Stay here,” Lando’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. He was standing in the doorway of his office, his expression unreadable.

“What’s going on?” you asked, your voice trembling.

“They’re trying to get to me through you,” he said simply, stepping into the room. His presence filled the space, making the grand office feel smaller. “And I won’t allow it.”

Your stomach twisted. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” he said, his tone dark, “that they’ve made a mistake.”

You stepped closer, placing a hand on his arm. “Lando, don’t—”

He covered your hand with his, his touch surprisingly gentle. “You don’t need to worry about this. Let me handle it.”

“I’m not worried about me,” you said, your voice breaking slightly. “I’m worried about you.”

His gaze softened for a brief moment before hardening again. “They won’t touch you. I’ll make sure of it.”

Hours later, you sat in the study, your mind racing. Lando’s men were stationed throughout the estate, their presence a constant reminder of the danger you were in.

The distant sound of shouting pulled you from your thoughts. You froze, your breath catching as the noise grew louder. Then came the unmistakable crack of gunfire.

Panic surged through you. You wanted to move, to run, but Lando’s words echoed in your mind: Stay here. Don’t open the door for anyone but me.

The door burst open moments later, and your heart leapt into your throat. But it wasn’t a stranger—it was Lando.

He stepped inside, his chest rising and falling rapidly, a streak of blood on his cheek. His shirt was untucked, the top buttons undone, revealing the faint hint of a tattoo peeking out from his collarbone.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low but steady.

You nodded, unable to find your voice.

He crossed the room in a few quick strides, pulling you into his arms. “It’s over,” he said softly, his hand resting on the back of your head.

“What happened?” you whispered, your voice muffled against his chest.

“They won’t come near you again,” he said, his tone leaving no room for doubt.

You pulled back slightly, searching his face. “Lando, did you—”

“They had a choice,” he interrupted, his expression unreadable. “They made the wrong one.”

You wanted to press further, but the weight of the night caught up with you. Instead, you leaned into him, letting his steady heartbeat calm you.

Later that night, as you sat together in the quiet of his bedroom, you finally spoke.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Lando turned to you, his eyes soft. “You don’t have to do anything. Just let me keep you safe.”

“But at what cost?” you asked, your voice breaking. “How many more people have to get hurt because of me?”

His jaw tightened. “None. Because I’ll end this before it gets that far.”

You shook your head, tears welling in your eyes. “I didn’t ask for this, Lando. I didn’t ask to be a part of your world.”

“I know,” he said, his voice heavy with guilt. “But you are. And I can’t change that. I can’t change how much I—”

He stopped himself, his gaze dropping to the floor.

“How much you what?” you pressed, your heart pounding.

He looked up, his eyes locking onto yours. “How much I need you,” he said finally. “You’re my weakness, Y/N. And that terrifies me more than anything.”

You stared at him, your chest tightening at the raw vulnerability in his voice. Despite everything—the danger, the chaos, the bloodshed—you couldn’t deny what you felt for him.

“I don’t want to be your weakness,” you said softly.

“You’re not,” he replied, reaching for your hand. “You’re my strength. And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. No matter what.”

In that moment, you realized there was no turning back. Lando’s world was dark and dangerous, but as long as you were with him, you knew you’d face it together.

Thank you for reading!

#dark f1 #f1 mafia au #lando x reader #f1 x reader #lando imagine #lando norris #mafia au #dark #fluff

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moowmoon · 2 days ago

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NIGHT CONFESSIONS

— aaron hotchner x toretto!fem!reader

— summary: in a cleared night, aaron shares what would be his perfect life if he leaves the bau.

— c/w: i think none?

— w/c: 1.1k

— a/n: hi! how are you guys? this is the first work of my toretto!reader universe (the reader is also part of bau)! i hope you guys like it and let me know your thoughts, my ask box is always open to talk/share things! ! english is not my first language, so forgive me if there are any mistakes!

The night seemed to have been painted by hand, the clear sky displayed a sea of twinkling stars that stretched as far as the eye could see. The full moon cast its silvery light over the clear field, drawing soft wisps in the grass that moved slightly with the breeze. The fresh air carried the subtle scent of the earth and the wildflowers that surrounded the secluded lawn.

Aaron walked ahead, holding a wicker basket in one firm hand, while the other held her hand at his side. His steps were calm, almost soundless, as if he feared breaking the tranquility that this moment produced. Next to him, she held the blanket, adjusting it on her arm, her eyes shining with anticipation.

"This is it." he announced softly, stopping beside a perfect clearing, surrounded by trees whose branches swayed in an almost imperceptible rhythm. He placed the basket on the ground, turning to pick up the blanket and observing for a moment the delicate smile she gave him, full of warmth and complicity.

"It's even more beautiful than I imagined," she said, looking up at the endless sky, where a few stars seemed to twinkle just for them.

Aaron smiled, a rare expression reserved only for the most special moments, but full of sincerity. "I knew you'd like it."

He took the blanket from her hands and opened it carefully, spreading it out on the soft ground. The sound of the fabric meeting the grass mingled with the whisper of the wind as they lay down, ready to let the night envelop their conversations and comfortable silences.

The two of them sat on the blanket, observing how the world seemed to have shrunk to fit only in the clearing that Aaron had meticulously chosen. The basket was open at the side, revealing a small feast that had been carefully prepared. He poured the wine into two simple glasses, the red liquid reflecting the soft moonlight. As he handed her one of the glasses, his fingers brushed hers briefly — it was a deliberate touch, small, but so full of tenderness that it made them both smile softly.

"I can't believe you brought this." she said, holding up a small container with an amused smile.

Aaron glanced over and raised an eyebrow. "You like cheesecake, don't you?"

"I like it, but the last time we ate together was during a case. Have you forgotten that we were on duty?"

He let out a low laugh, a rare, almost musical sound. "I don't forget the most important things," he replied, his joking tone hiding the genuine affection in his words.

As they lay side by side on the blanket, the two of them watched the starry sky above, a spectacle of bright dots scattered like dust of light. The silence around them was broken only by the soft sound of the wind between the trees and the occasional murmur of some nocturnal creature.

Aaron, who was resting with his hands intertwined behind his head, kept his gaze fixed on a more distant constellation, which he vaguely recognized, but couldn't remember its name. She, next to him, was lying on her side with her head resting on one hand, watching him with a small smile on her face.

"What are you thinking?" her voice was low, almost a whisper, as if she didn't want to disturb the serenity of the night.

He took a few seconds before answering, his eyes still fixed on the sky. "I sometimes wonder what it would be like if things were simpler." Aaron turned his head to face her, his face serious but his eyes gentle. "If I could leave everything behind. The pressure of being the leader of the BAU, the weight of each case… and just live."

She didn't respond immediately, absorbing the rare moment of vulnerability. Aaron was always the strong one, the stable one. Seeing him open up that side of himself was a privilege.

"And what would you do?" she asked, curiosity tinged with tenderness taking over her heart.

He let out a short sigh, almost a muffled laugh. "Maybe I'd buy a small house somewhere quiet. I'd spend my days tending the garden, with Jack. Reading. Cooking." he paused, his eyes returning to the sky, as if he were seeing that future projected onto the stars. "And, of course, I wouldn't do it alone."

She felt her heart squeeze at the confession. She slid her hand down to meet his and intertwined their fingers. "I think you'd get on very well. And, if I can, I'd like to be there with you."

Aaron turned his face to look at her, his eyes reflecting something between surprise and gratitude. "What about you? What's your dream?"

"My dream is simple," she replied, smiling softly. "To buy a house near my family and build a life there. Me, you, and Jack, all together. That's enough for me."

A comfortable silence once again filled the air between them. The vulnerability that ran between them needed no explanation, just the certainty that they were both there, exactly where they were supposed to be.

The night continued to envelop them in a gentle embrace. The world around them was completely silent, as if absorbing any external sound that dared to disturb the moment between them.

Aaron turned his head slightly, his eyes discreetly studying her. There was something almost ethereal about the way the moonlight caressed her face, highlighting each feature with a delicacy that seemed to have been stolen from a dream. He allowed himself a rare smile, so small that it almost went unnoticed.

"You know," he began, his voice a hoarse whisper that seemed to blend in with the sound of the night. "It's nights like this that make me believe that maybe I'm doing something right in life."

She turned to him, her gaze full of curiosity. "What do you mean?

Aaron looked back up at the sky, taking a deep breath before replying. "For everything I've been through, everything I've seen… meeting you, having moments like this, makes me think that there are good things waiting for me. And you're one of them"

The silence returned, but this time it was thick with the force of what had been said. She reached out, gently touching his face, before pulling him into an embrace. They moved even closer, their bodies aligned together, each other's warmth protecting them from the chill of the night.

"Do you promise we'll do it again?" came a low, almost hesitant voice.

Aaron closed his eyes for a moment, resting his cheek against his shoulder. "Whenever you want."

And so, with the starry sky as a witness, the bond between them grew even stronger, like the roots of a tree that grows slowly but steadily, destined to last.

#criminal minds x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fic

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rei-ismyname · 2 days ago

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Magneto's very specific revenge

After Mags is resurrected by Eric the Red (long story,) he is fuming about the X-Men and has plans for them. They're busy being overpowered by Mesmero, however, so he tracks them down.

Swole Magneto

Mags strolls in and defeats Mesmero off panel, because he's a chump and Magneto is not. He wipes the floor with the X-Men, including full power Phoenix, then laughs maniacally. Classic Mags. Notably, he looks far more physically capable and intimidating than he has before. He's ripped, he's confident, and in seconds he solo'd a foe the entire team was struggling with. Silver Age Magneto was cowardly and relied on abused lackeys to carry out his schemes, often fleeing as soon as he was in danger. That guy is gone and in his place is an antagonist who's brave, extremely intelligent, capable, and a almost insurmountable threat. He's still fantastically dramatic, but his histrionics owe more to Shakespeare than Snidely Whiplash.

Turns out he's really not happy about Chuck and Moira's baby tampering, nor his previous defeats at the X-Men's hands (or the Alpha thing backfiring.) He takes them all to one of his volcano bases, restrains and depowers them. He Then Magneto explains the specific revenge he has in mind for the perennial thorn in his side that is the X-Men. It's complicated and cruel but utterly terrifying.

They're to remain without powers, restrained and regressed to the physicality of 6 month olds. He constructed a saccharine-sweet Nanny robot to be their carer and their jailer. 'An eye for an eye' he ominously decrees. I kinda wish he did this to Chuck instead, but he's off banging the bird queen in Greece.

His immediate thirst for vengeance quenched, Mags leaves them to it and flies into space - to the nearly complete base known as Asteroid M. Where old Magneto hung out in a depressing lair with his terrified underlings, this Magneto has the power to reach space without technology, and the skills/resources to establish an asteroid base - a throne above the Earth.

Making the robot look like Moira is so funny

The X-Men are utterly in his power, with a creepy robot assigned to keep them alive and miserable. They fucking hate it, understandably. Unable to move, completely dependent on this awful automaton for their basic needs. Wolverine starts to crack. Cyclops maybe likes it a little - I don't see anyone else getting a bath and massage.

The extent of Wolverine's pain is visceral and existetially horrifying - he gets desperate quite quickly, his usual bravado shattered. Banshee and Nightcrawler seem to be doing a bit better, but Logan is not used to being helpless (plus his years of medical trauma haunt him.)

Days pass, and Ororo has a plan to escape this hell. Drawing on her upbringing as a thief (and the dubious claim of having the physicality of a child at 6 months old,) she finally gets her lockpicks out of her hair and attempts the near impossible.

After a short flashback to Achmed and the Houdini tests he put Ororo through, there's a brief hope spot where it looks like she'll succeed. Unfortunately Nanny returns, notices, and Storm is undone. She does not take it well. Of course, this is particularly sadistic torture, so who would?

Meanwhile, on Asteroid M, Mags thinks about how much of a rich genius he is (and to be fair his accomplishments are impressive, especially for a once-broke self taught evil scientist.) Magneto's interest in learning, especially science, is highlighted. His thoughts also drift to his beloved Magda, his former wife and mother to Pietro, Wanda, and Anya. He's not doing great, and torturing the X-Men isn't making him as happy as he expected. Despite his shitty actions, the seeds of Well-intentioned extremist with pathos Magneto are being sown.

Mags notices some aberrant readings on one of his many machines, and thinks that Nanny should have sorted that out. Better safe than sorry. The escaped X-Men unleash on him but while they're doing better than last time, the best they can achieve is forcing a stalemate of sorts but Magneto takes their best again and does not fall.

Continuing the theme of Phoenix power being a double edged sword, she inadvertently destroys a control panel during the fight. As everyone knows, a destroyed control panel is the Achilles Heel of any evil base and it starts crumbling/blowing up. Magneto manages to escape in the nick of time and learns the value of redundancy in data storage. After a dramatic speech he bounces to do more Magneto shit, figuring on balance he came out ahead. His volcano base and the data/gadgets within are no more, but so are the X-Men. Nobody remains to foil his plans, or do they?

Obviously they survived, but they're split up for nearly a year. Cyclops and Marvel Girl each think the other is dead, a dynamic that powered so much of the drama all the way to the Dark Phoenix saga. Magneto is back, better than ever, and he's here to stay. His actions will change how the entire world behaves while he starts a journey of his own. I believe this is the first time we see him shirtless too, setting up that he's attractive and loves being naked.

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scary-grace · 2 days ago

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Expiation (Chapter 4) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Even after slaying the High Kingdom's greatest enemy and sparing its people from a terrible fate, Shigaraki Tomura's past crimes make him an outcast in the castle. Still, someone has to attend to him, and that someone is you -- and unlike the maids who came before you, you're not afraid to ask a question. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapters: 1 2 3

Chapter 4

The debate over the issue of the borderlands continues, although without any more challenges issued to Sir Tomura by Sir Katsuki or anyone else. The king’s council appears to be inching towards a decision in favor of a campaign to retake the borderlands from the warlords, but the more cautious individuals on the council wish to hear more testimony from those who hail from the region, and the intensity of the questioning means that only one or two people can be questioned each day. In the meantime, a new complication begins to arise: A steady stream of people emerging from the Forest Perilous, each more tired and ragged than those who came before.

“Never before have so many passed through,” Yui murmurs to you as the two of you carry loads of sheets down to the castle laundry. “Has the Forest lost its power to shield us?”

You shake your head, but she’s still speaking. “Did he destroy it when he passed through?”

“No,” you say firmly. Yui startles. “The Forest is stronger than any one person. It admitted Sir Tomura because he was meant to be here. There must be a reason for the presence of the others.”

There is, and you learn it later that day, when your token hums against your wrist and you hurry to answer Sir Tomura’s call. You find him on the battlements above the gate, watching today’s new arrivals climb the hill. Your token goes still when you reach him, and his must, too – he speaks without looking up. “Now we will see how far your kingdom’s generosity truly stretches. Do you think good King Izuku will let them in?”

“I cannot see why he would do otherwise,” you say carefully. “Those who pass through the Forest Perilous are those who belong here, and as such, they deserve a welcome like any other.”

“But these are not any other travelers,” Sir Tomura says. “They come from your Enemy’s kingdom.”

Your heart lurches. You fight to conceal your surprise, but Sir Tomura’s looking at you now. “Did their style of dress not reveal them to you? Or are you truly so ignorant of the kingdom you reviled?”

You shake your head, but you have no answer. “I see,” Sir Tomura says, scornful a gain. “You thought that they condoned his actions simply by dwelling in his kingdom.”

“No,” you say. Sir Tomura scoffs. “I did not condone the warlord’s actions simply by living in the lands he controls. If that is true of me, it’s true of them. But –”

You hesitate. “Speak,” Sir Tomura says.

“With the Enemy vanquished, their lands belong to them again,” you say. “Why would they leave?”

“If you wish to know that, ask them,” Sir Tomura says. He looks away from you, his eyes fixed on the travelers – the refugees – once more. “Now go.”

You aren’t sure how to interpret the order. Is he telling you to depart and speak to the others, or simply to depart? In the end, tradition guides you. When groups of travelers arrived together in the past, you’ve often gone to welcome them, drawn by a desire to help and by a secret, more selfish desire to understand. There is no reason why the refugees from the Enemy’s kingdom should be treated differently, and if Sir Tomura has no need of you, it’s as good a way as any to pass your time.

Rather than being received in the usual chambers, the new arrivals are being received in the large courtyard just inside the gate, and the supplies usually kept for such events are in no way equal to the task. Your magic is suited enough for this – mending ragged clothes so they’ll last a little longer, mending heirlooms broken in the journey – and so is your experience as a new arrival yourself, when you were barely more than a child. You answer their questions, and they in turn unfold their stories to you. Stories of the terror wreaked upon the Enemy’s kingdom in its final days. Stories of what remained afterward. Stories of Sir Tomura, and how he defeated the Enemy – and how he did not fight alone.

The first you hear of it comes from a little girl, when you compliment the silver ring that hangs from a twist of twine around her neck. “It’s still hot,” she tells you proudly, although when she holds it out for you to touch, it carries only the warmth of her skin. “It belonged to the Dragonheart.”

“Dabi the Dragonheart?” you repeat, surprised. You know of him, of course – his is another name mentioned in the chronicles of evil deeds – but you hadn’t realized that he was present in the Enemy’s kingdom, too. “Did he give it to you?”

The girl shakes her head solemnly. “I found it after,” she says. “After he fell.”

“The Dragonheart fell in battle,” you say slowly, and the girl nods. “How?”

“Didn’t see.” She spins the ring on its makeshift chain. “If people saw then, they can’t see now.”

You finish mending her clothes and thank her for the story, wondering what she meant. A few new arrivals later, you hear the rest of it. The Dragonheart burned so brightly in his final moments as he strove to deal a death blow to the Enemy that those who looked upon his brilliance went blind from it. But that isn’t the part of the story that troubles you. The Dragonheart fought alongside Sir Tomura. The Dragonheart died.

The Dragonheart isn’t the only figure of legend to have died in recent months. Others who fled the Enemy’s fallen kingdom tell you of the final spell cast by the dreaded witch Himiko, and still more relay the death of Spinner, a noted mercenary and the White Death’s closest friend. His closest friend, but not his only friend. When Sir Tomura challenged the Enemy, the others joined his cause.

Each of his friends was a monster, sowing terror in every village they passed through, just like him. Each of them paid the ultimate price, just as Sir Tomura would have if the Enemy’s final blow had been fatal. It’s the same contradiction you faced before, of monsters who proved more courageous than the true knights of the High Kingdom. Of villains who died doing something good. It makes your head hurt – and your heart, too.

Days pass. More testimonials are given before the council, more refugees arrive, and more stories are told. Stories not just of how the White Death’s comrades died, but how they lived. I saw the White Death smile once, a former soldier of the Enemy says. A few days later, from the mouth of a woman who once waited on the four of them in a tavern: I heard him laugh. And then, from a boy blinded by the Dragonheart’s last blaze, scarred from the wave of black magic that emanated from the Enemy’s fallen castle and scoured the countryside for miles: I heard him scream.

You want to ask your Lord about his companions, about what happened to them, about what happened to him when he slew the Enemy and incurred his terrible wound. You’ve tried to follow his instruction to speak to him as you would to an equal. But as much as you want the answer, you know that there are questions you would refuse to answer even if you were compelled to do so, and there’s nothing you could do to compel Sir Tomura. You wouldn’t want to.

But you’re a commoner, and little care is given to what you want. And at no point is that more evident than when Sir Tomura informs you that the King’s council requires your presence tomorrow.

“Your testimony is expected to sway them, one way or the other,” he says. He’s seated on his bed, watching as you store clean clothes in the wardrobe. “King Izuku requires a unanimous decision to approve a military campaign, and there are a few holdouts who would rather negotiate first.”

You know what the warlords do to negotiators – the warlord whose thumb you dwelt under most particularly. “They have spoken to everyone. They haven’t heard enough?”

“It seems not, and my word, of course, counts for nothing.” The bedsprings creak. When you look back over your shoulder, you find Sir Tomura sprawled out, staring up at the canopy. “Most who have testified left the borderlands as mere children, too young to remember what they saw with any accuracy. You lived there longer than most, and your warlord’s crimes are the justification for the war they are planning to start. They expect details.”

Your stomach turns. “No.”

“No?” Sir Tomura sounds surprised. “As much as it pleases me to hear that you plan to defy the king, it puzzles me why you’d choose this moment to make your stand.”

“Why does it puzzle you, my Lord?”

“As a daughter of the borderlands, don’t you want to see your people liberated? Rescued from the dread clutches of the warlords and returned to the smothering embrace of the High Kingdom?” Sir Tomura’s words are harsh, but there’s less scorn in his tone than you expected. “You have no fear of the council. You spoke before them well enough at the feast. What is it?”

“I don’t wish to discuss it.” You know it’s cowardly, know it’s foolish, and yet – “Even if you commanded me, my Lord, I would not. Just as you would not tell what happened in your battle against the Enemy.”

“No one has asked directly,” Sir Tomura says. “I have not had the chance to refuse.”

“But you would.”

“I would.” The bedsprings creak again. Sir Tomura sits up. “But my refusal, unlike yours, does not damn thousands to live and die under the warlords’ control.”

“My words cannot hold such weight,” you say sharply, sharper than you ever thought you’d be with a noble or a knight. “You and the nobles on the council will act or not as you see fit. I will not be their excuse.”

“They should not need an excuse to defend their kingdom’s borders. Is that what you mean?” Sir Tomura waits, but you don’t know how to answer. “Turn and look at me.”

You face him and find him studying you intently. Long moments pass before he speaks. “I thought it was self-consciousness, but I should have expected better. You’re angry, aren’t you?”

“No –”

“Of course you are.” Sir Tomura allows no argument. “The High Kingdom threw your people to the wolves to secure a stronger border against an enemy they had no intention of facing. They promised to protect you and broke that promise. They do not deserve your blind devotion. They deserve your rage.”

“So it is my Lord’s suggestion that I stand before the most powerful people in the realm and lose my temper?”

“You do not have to lose your temper to express your rage.” Sir Tomura beckons you a few steps closer, and you go with the utmost hesitation. “They want answers from you. Answer them. Leave nothing out. If they can look away, they will, so give them no choice but to keep looking.”

“My Lord –”

“They may be aggressive in their questioning,” Sir Tomura says, “but you have survived me these past months. Surely Sir Katsuki cannot compare.”

Your hands are shaking. You clasp them behind your back and try to slow the racing of your heart. “It is not simply anger, my Lord,” you start. “It’s –”

You and the others from the borderlands rarely speak of where you came from – enough to confirm that you were raised to know the same terror, and no more. Each of you carries it inside you, never to be revealed. You have no idea what the others said in their testimony, no idea how yours will land, and you’ve never spoken a single word of it aloud. It’s more than anger. It’s fear, deep and instinctual, and a conviction that you will not survive speaking of it – not to one person, and certainly not to the king’s council as they weigh the question of war.

You look down, then away. “What is there to fear in speaking?” Sir Tomura asks.

Many things, but one most of all. “That he will hear I did it.”

It’s quiet for a while. You brace for scorn, or worse, another question, but Sir Tomura surprises you. “You are dismissed for the night,” he says. “It seems you have much to think about.”

“Thank you, my Lord.” You curtsy – a gesture which looks ridiculous without a skirt, but you’re still unused to bowing – and leave the room without ever raising your eyes.

You barely sleep, and when you arrive to attend to Sir Tomura in the morning, you’re certain you look it. Sir Tomura prefers to take breakfast in his chamber, so you retrieve food and tea before coming to wake him. Enough food and tea for two, always – after the first time, when he asked what you planned to eat and you had no answer, you’ve fallen into the habit of eating with him. It’s expedient as well. He has yet to grasp the many layers of appropriate dress for a noble, and it falls to you to stop him from leaving improperly arrayed.

He lets you work in silence, for the most part – this morning, at least. He runs his hand through his hair once and then again, the familiar grimace rising to his face. “Does your wound pain you today, my Lord?”

“It always pains me.” Sir Tomura lets his hand fall to his side. “This costume is ridiculous.”

“It’s simpler than what the others wear.”

“They look ridiculous, too.” Sir Tomura looks you up and down. “Your clothes are more appropriate.”

“For a servant, my Lord.”

“For anyone,” Sir Tomura says. “Find the tailor. Tell him I want clothes like yours.”

You look down at what you’re wearing. It’s excruciatingly simple – like any squire’s clothes, in your Lord’s colors, your only ornamentation the summoning token around your wrist. “I will see what I can do, my Lord. He may refuse me.”

“See what you can do,” Sir Tomura says. “I will be with the council today. Depending on today’s witness, the meeting will be either very long or very short.”

“Yes, my Lord.” You straighten the plain brooch that fastens his cloak and step back. “Is there anything else you require?”

Before he can answer, you see his summoning token lying on the table beside his bed and answer the question yourself. “Here. If you should require anything –”

“What if I should require you to testify?” Sir Tomura asks, and you look up, shocked. “I have no intention of doing so. Speak or do not speak – it is your own affair.”

“You would not compel me?”

“I don’t own you.” Sir Tomura gives you an irritated look. “The sooner you accept that, the better.”

You step back from him, bow, and retreat out the door. Your Lord is a strange man, his nightmarish reputation notwithstanding. As always when you consider him, you fall victim to the same paradox. Sir Tomura has done monstrous things. He makes no apology, gives no excuse, the way others have done when King Izuku and his knights brought them to justice. And yet he had comrades in arms, those he considered friends, who fought and died in battle beside him. And yet he slew a greater evil, one who menaced your kingdom for a hundred years, sparing the world the pain and horror that would have resulted from a war. He is a noble, and you should be far beneath his notice, but he has been – fair – in his dealings with you. Far fairer than anyone you’ve served before.

You wonder if he’ll be the one to summon you to council, but he isn’t – Sir Ejirou comes instead, a sure sign that the council doesn’t plan to take no for an answer where your testimony is concerned. You could refuse and allow yourself to be hauled before them like a disobedient child, but the eyes of your fellow servants and squires are on you, and you don’t wish to make a scene. You bow in response to Sir Ejirou’s command, store away your work, and follow him to the council chamber on legs that feel all too steady beneath you.

You’ve had quick glimpses inside the council chamber before, but never a real chance to look around, and you won’t have one today. The council members are waiting for you. Some faces are expectant; others already annoyed; still others are blank. Sir Tomura’s not even looking at you. He’s leaning back in his chair with his battered boots propped up on the table, cleaning under his fingernails with a tiny knife.

He looks like he couldn’t care less about anything – the borderlands, the council meeting, your testimony, you. If you were looking for support from him, you won’t find it. But you weren’t. You face the councilmembers and bow, as deeply as the presence of the king requires. “Please rise,” King Izuku says. He’s smiling, but anxiety flickers behind his eyes. “Before we begin your testimony in earnest, we have questions that arose based on the testimony of others. Is it true that the warlords demand not only taxes, but protection fees, from their common folk?”

“Yes.” You see Lord Tenya in your peripheral vision, gesturing for you to elaborate. “There is no set fee. They resemble bribes. Families bribe the warlords’ soldiers to pillage their neighbors’ farms and not their own.”

“So one pays or is – pillaged.”

“Yes,” you say again. “Someone is always attacked. Much time and money is spent currying favor to avoid becoming the victim.”

“We have been told, too, that the warlord Kai collects those with magic to serve him,” Sir Ochako says. She smiles at you, like the king did. Like the king, she’s anxious. “Is that true?”

“No,” you say. “Those he takes do not serve him, except as subjects for his experiments.”

“We’ve heard the same rumor from many people,” Lady Momo says. “What evidence can you provide that it is true?”

Rumor, she calls it, when you know more than one person in Castle Ultra who lost family members to Warlord Kai, whose loved ones were dragged screaming into his fortress, never to emerge again – at least not in any recognizable form. A spark of anger kicks up within you, but it’s smothered almost instantly by terror. You speak of what happens inside the fortress to no one. Warlord Kai made that perfectly clear, and you know what he does to people who disobey.

The token around your wrist buzzes, and you startle. Startle, and with your eyes cast down to avoid suspicion, you look towards Sir Tomura. He hasn’t looked up, but a moment later, your token buzzes again. Is he trying to distract you? Lady Momo repeats her question, and the token buzzes a third time. This time, when you glance towards Sir Tomura, he’s looking at you.

Most in the High Kingdom cringe beneath his gaze, but you’ve grown used to it. You remember what he told you to do when you spoke last night: Answer them. Leave nothing out. But that would constitute speaking freely to a noble, and no noble would allow –

Lady Momo poses her question once more, her perfect features beginning to show irritation. You look back to her, and your token buzzes a final time. Sir Tomura doesn’t want you to look at her. He wants you to look at him.

If you look at him, you can pretend it’s only him you’re speaking to – and he ordered you to speak freely. You settle your gaze on his face and answer the question. “I am not repeating a rumor I heard from others. I saw his experiments myself.”

You worked as a maid in Warlord Kai’s fortress from the age of ten to when you were thirteen. Your parents thought it was best to hide your small magic in plain sight. In the time you were there, you saw prisoners brought in, heard their screams, scrubbed the floor of the warlord’s workshop when he was finished with them. You saw what they became afterwards – twisted, broken things, impossibly fused together and yet still alive. You don’t even know what he was trying to do.

“Who was he experimenting on?” Sir Katsuki barks at you when you pause for breath. “Criminals?”

“Warlord Kai doesn’t punish criminals. He hires them,” Sir Tomura says. His eyes never leave yours. “Forgive the interruption, but it sounded as if Sir Katsuki was about to excuse the warlord’s crimes – so long as they were committed against the right people.”

Sir Katsuki calls Sir Tomura something unrepeatable, which King Izuku hastily orders stricken from the record of the meeting. “Go on,” he instructs you. “Who did the warlord experiment on?”

“Anyone with magic,” you say. “Those who displayed the gift, no matter how small, were taken away.”

“How did you survive?” Lord Shoto asks.

“How did you escape?” Aizawa corrects. You hadn’t noticed him, and a chill runs down your spine as he slinks into view to face you directly. “You worked for him. You have no great skill with magic, nor any fighting ability. How did a mere child escape such a fearsome man?”

“I never confronted him directly,” you say. “When I knew I would be discovered, I ran.”

Aizawa looks dissatisfied – as if you might be lying, as if the warlord might have set you loose in a decades-long ploy to destroy the High Kingdom from within. Sir Ochako poses a question, and you glance at her, grateful for the reprieve. She wishes to know how many people are taken per year, and you report that the number began to dwindle, even within your years. You can’t miss the relief that sweeps across her face – her face, and the faces of the others. “His experiments are tapering off,” King Izuku states. “Perhaps he discovered what he wished to already.”

That’s not what you meant at all, but you don’t dare speak over the king. Sir Tomura has no such concerns. “That’s naïve,” he says, scorn edging every letter. “He’s not tapering off. He’s running out of test subjects.”

King Izuku frowns, puzzled, and Sir Tomura rolls his eyes. “The gift can surface spontaneously, but most often it’s inherited. If the warlord has spent years collecting every magic-user he encounters, young and old –”

“Then the gift is nearly extinct in his lands,” Lord Tenya interrupts.

“Indeed.” Sir Tomura doesn’t look at him. His question is for you. “You have had a chance to observe him? Do you think he will cease to experiment once his supply of gifted individuals is exhausted?”

“No,” you say.

“When do you believe he will stop?”

“When someone stops him,” you say. “Not one moment before.”

Silence falls. Sir Tomura’s red eyes have yet to leave yours, and when King Izuku speaks, it feels as though some spell has been broken. “I have no further questions,” he says. “You have my leave to go. There is much for the council to discuss.”

You bow low and exit the chamber. No sooner have the doors shut behind you than the token at your wrist begins to vibrate without rest, as though Sir Tomura is pressing it repeatedly. You can’t imagine why he’s summoning you to a room you were just dismissed from – unless he’s ordering you to wait for him outside. You can do that. You find a place to stand out of the way, only to find yourself sinking to the floor as your legs give out beneath you.

You did everything you could. You answered their questions in full, without mercy, and Sir Tomura’s last questions left them nowhere to hide. You did everything you could, so why do you feel so sick? Why do you feel as if you’ve left something out, omitted some horrible detail that would have forced them to act? Why won’t the memory of what you saw every day for three years leave your head, when it was so easy to keep out before? Why does it still feel like the warlord’s hand is about to close over your shoulder?

You’ve comforted yourself forever with the thought that the Forest Perilous would keep Warlord Kai out. But it let Sir Tomura in. What if –

The doors open, and you struggle to your feet as the king’s council emerges. They’re talking urgently amongst themselves, summoning their squires, calling for scribes. The herald pops up from nowhere and King Izuku hands him a proclamation, orders him to spread the word. What word? You don’t want to guess, or hope. You’re too frightened to be wrong.

Sir Tomura stops just outside the chamber, looks left, then right. You uproot your nerveless legs to go to him, but he comes to you instead, a look you can’t read on his face. “Congratulations,” he says. “You’ve started a war.”

Your back hits the wall. “They agreed?”

“King Izuku has his precious unanimity at last,” Sir Tomura says. “After hearing your testimony, my conscience would not let me vote against going to war.”

He was the holdout? His voice is mocking, and although you’re certain he’s not mocking you, it doesn’t matter. You feel as though the floors been torn from beneath your feet. “My Lord? I don’t understand –”

“The longer I withheld my vote, the more evidence of their failure they were forced to hear,” Sir Tomura says. “Do you think they’ve suffered enough?”

You don’t know what to say. “I doubt it,” Sir Tomura muses. “When they march on the borderlands, they’ll see exactly what they deserve to.”

“Yes, my Lord.” You can’t speak more than a whisper.

“You were spectacular, of course,” Sir Tomura says. His voice is cool, neutral. “I expected nothing less. You have a way with words.”

He’s complimenting you. Your Lord is pleased with your performance, but you can’t summon even a spark of happiness – or if you could, it’s lost somewhere in the void of your memory, swallowed up in what you saw every time you set foot in the warlord’s workshop. You bow your head, because Sir Tomura’s standing too close for you to bow at the waist. You stay that way until Sir Tomura’s hand brushes against your jaw on its way to cup your chin and tilt your face upwards to his.

He’s frowning, and you force yourself to speak. “Have I displeased you, my Lord?”

“What did the warlord tell you would happen if you spoke of what you saw in his workshop?”

Speaking of it is unnecessary. The mere memory makes your skin crawl, sends a shiver strong enough to imperil your footing down the length of your spine. Shame follows almost instantly in its wake. They’re words. Only words, only a threat that Warlord Kai could not possibly carry out with the Forest Perilous between you. You don’t need to look at Sir Tomura to guess what he will think of such weakness on your part. You look down and away, waiting for him to let go of your chin and dismiss you from his sight.

“You need not fear him,” Sir Tomura says instead. “I’ve done far worse.”

Your response is instant, instinctive, and ill-advised. “Forgive me, my Lord, but you have not.”

Sir Tomura stares at you, incredulous, but the longer you think of it, the more certain you are. Sir Tomura has committed terrible acts of violence, slaughtering entire armies sent to defeat him, tearing cities down to their foundations, blighting the land and salting the earth with dark magic – but a death at Sir Tomura’s hands would be only that, and nothing more. Every day for three years you watched the warlord twist and mutilated the bodies of his victims, inflicting suffering without end, tearing their minds the same as he tore their flesh. If you had to choose between your former master and your current one, both monsters in their own right, you’d choose the White Death in an instant.

Sir Tomura hasn’t turned you loose yet. He looks truly taken aback, an expression you’re seeing from him for the first time. It’s subsumed seconds later into a sneer. “I suppose you prefer the monster you know.”

“No,” you say. “I prefer the one who’d kill me quickly.”

The sneer drops from Sir Tomura’s face. “I have heard many tales of your deeds, great and terrible as they are,” you continue, “and I have never heard it said that you are a torturer. I have heard it said that you revel in destruction, but not that you enjoy inflicting pain. Warlord Kai is worse, to me, because it pleases him – or does not discomfit him. I cannot say. Once I saw him draw out a man’s death over six months, finding new ways to mangle and deform him every day. If I displeased him and was caught, he would have done the same to me. But if I displease you, my Lord –”

“Be silent.”

“If I displease you, my Lord,” you say, looking up into Sir Tomura’s eyes, “I am confident that my death at your hands will not be drawn out.”

“No. It would not be.” Sir Tomura’s jaw is clenched. “I understand now why you stayed when others fled from me. You are well aware that worse monsters exist.”

“You’re wrong, my Lord.” You shrink from the thought of correcting a noble, but he asked you to speak to him as you would to an equal. “I made no such comparison until you forced it on me.”

“You’ve traded one monstrous lord for another.”

“To serve him was a nightmare,” you say. Your voice trembles. “To serve you is an honor.”

Sir Tomura still hasn’t let you go – and when he finally does, his hand falls to your shoulder even as he takes a noticeable step back. “It is as I said: You need not fear him. He will not live much longer.”

“Yes.” The kingdom has been preparing for war for a hundred years against an enemy who no longer exists; they are well-equipped to fight the one who’s been there all along. “King Izuku will defeat him.”

“King Izuku’s proved that he can’t be trusted with your safety,” Sir Tomura says. His hand falls away from your shoulder at last. “I’ll do it myself.”

#tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki x you #shigaraki tomura x you #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x you #x reader #reader insert #man door hand hook car door #fantasy au

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schumi-nadal · 4 hours ago

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Wow, I didn't think that post would get me even more hate to be honest 😅

First of all, I wasn't talking about ALL Carlos fans but about some "fans" (you can't call them like that, not after the really harsh words I received) who came into my asks when i asked nothing: I never was mean about Carlos, i didn't even defend Charles. I only posted 2-3 things related to this Charlos gate or whatever the fandom is calling it.

Here are some of the posts in questions:

After the first one, I received insults (anons and non anons, I don't know what is worst, that's what I was talking about them being younger and not knowing how the Schumi era and baby Shumi era were, (the non-anos were 17-18) because people misunderstood it (or understood what they wanted to understand).

After one or two more posts after the end of the race, it escalated very quickly, I received death threats! That's very serious! How can it come to this for a FUCKING sport? There are more serious things in life!

So, yeah, I was quite pissed after that.

Also, I didn't even defend Charles in my post, rereading now and I undertand I may have sound like I did but I'm French and I may have translated word by word what i wanted to say (it's a bit complicated but we sometimes use "you" to talk about people + ourserlves in some sketchy expressions). Anyway, what he said was definitely inappropriate and very "childish" in a way. Those words should had been spoken in private with his team and Carlos, not in front of million of people; and I think if FIA penalised swear words, they should start looking at those kind of statements.

Also, for those saying that I would be the kind of person to insult their favorite driver(s), you don't know me, you can even check my blog if you have nothing more interesting to do (lol), I never insulted anyone like some people do in f1blr. We can dislike or even hate a driver with our whole being, that's ok, for each their own I guess. We can't love everyone, you have the right to defend your favs, that's our choice too, but don't go and roast people when they didn't even say something wrong in the first place. (again, i hope those anons are reading it)

I never got haters before today (just one a few months ago with tennisblr but it was more a troll more than anything else) I usually don't interract a lot because I don't like conflicts but receiving multiple insults for something I can't control: I'm not Charles, I can't control what he says, I'm not a Carlos hater neither, i'm just here, blogging and reblogging stuff I love, mostly sports, sometimes with my particular sense of humor.

Nobody is perfect for sure, and I'm sorry if some of you thought I was just calling out Carlos or defending Charles. He may be one of my favourite drivers, just like other drivers can be yours: all of them are not flawless and we may continue to like them or not after different sorts of situations, that's up to us.

To finally finish my thesis (sorry if you're still reading), I didn't know that I would be so stressed on tumblr one day (call me a sensitive person) but this website is my sanctuary, I hope it will stay like that for a very long time but you can't be appreciated by the whole world, I lost some of my mutuals and i accept that. This morning's messages went too far and that's not normal to say thing like that, no matter how peacecul I am, I had to call them out. Also, on my other fandoms, you can share thought without (or almost) getting attacked verbally, that's sad that it's not the same anymore here, but yeah, football is the same.

You can choose to answer or not, I won't block anyone because I don't feel the need to, opinions can be shared but respectfully, I would be happy to talk more if some of you are up to.

So, I don't know what to add, have a great end of the season, everyone!

i don't know if everyone who reblogged or commented can see it when I reblog it so i'm tagging y'all: @midesastremanifiesto , @janesurlife , @gaypoetsblog , @katarf1a , @chaitalinath , @danieldrivesfast , @landhoe-norris , @eightsixtiism

One thing is funny about being insulted by all those Carlos "fans" (won't call them real fans tbh he deserves way better than toxic people): I was already watching F1 that they were not born, if you think that Charles was shitty today, just remember we had Michael Schumacher as the most dramatic queen ever and Sebastian Vettel was a little Gremlin at some points. REAL FANS WERE NOT FIGHTING FOR THAT!

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slashbitch2 · 1 hour ago

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The Proposal AU! (part three)

Summary: when your boss Agatha faces the threat of deportation, she convinces you to marry her in return for a promotion- and things only get more complicated with a trip to Salem, an eccentric tarot-card-reading aunt, and a homophobic mother to convince.

Agatha Harkness x Fem!Reader

TW: deportation (which I admit I know very little about I'm not American lol) suggestive themes, sort of arranged marriage

W.C: roughly 1.4k words

PARTS: ONE, TWO

As soon as you left Hayward’s office, Agatha started furiously typing on her phone, the crease between her brows growing deeper with each step out the building. You simply followed; uncertain of what else you were meant to be doing right now. Packing, you supposed. But your first priority was to get some information out of the woman, who was currently on a mission to remove herself from the building, striding at least three steps ahead of you at all times.

It wasn’t until you were both sitting in the taxi that you finally had the chance to speak. “So…” You started, paused, then realised she wasn’t going to put her phone down anytime soon. You sighed. “We’re going to Salem?”

“Unfortunately,” Agatha murmured. “If I can get in contact with my mother, that is.” She spat, resuming her frantic typing.

You scowled, leant closer to peak at the phone screen and tried desperately to ignore the way her perfume pleasantly filled your nostrils. Something about being in close proximity with Agatha was mesmerising. It always had been, but it seemed this latest situation was worsening your complex feelings towards her. If someone asked you to label it, you would say admiration, but deep down you knew it was something greater than that. You simply refused to acknowledge it.

“So, you weren’t originally going to visit?”

Despite having to be involved in Agatha’s life, you had never heard her talk about her family. Not once. It didn’t surprise you. It was near impossible to picture the woman in any scenario other than sitting behind a desk, winding up one of your coworkers for their incompetence, or shmoozing a business deal. Although you imagined her prickly personality had to come from somewhere, and shuddered to think what her mother might be like.

“No.” Agatha scoffed. “I try my best to stay as far away from family gatherings as possible.”

“I’m guessing you’re not close…?” You questioned, slow and cautious.

“God no.” She shook her head, strands of hair coming loose from the vehement movement. “I want nothing to do with my mother and her coven of freaks.”

You tutted, suppressing a smirk at her colourful choice of language. But instead of pursuing the topic further, you turned to look at the scenery flying past the window. “Shouldn’t have mentioned it to Hayward then…”

“Well, with your parents ever so conveniently out of the country, it did appear suspicious that we wouldn’t tell a single soul.”

“Could’ve eloped.” You murmured.

“Sorry, darling.” Agatha droned; her tone petulant. “Next time I’ll set us up a nice horse-drawn carriage down to the registry office.”

You took in a deep breath, ignoring the surge of irritation at her smarminess, something you recognised you would have to learn to cope with for the next painful while. You had no idea how long this whole process would take, and realised with a sudden stab of guilt that you would have to eventually inform your parents of this decision.

If you explained it was to keep your boss’ position at the company, rather than any dumb, spontaneous act of love, they would surely understand, right?

“Agatha?” You called, met by a hum of acknowledgement. “Are you telling your family the real reason for this marriage, or are we going to have to keep faking it?”

“Oh, my mother’s a raging homophobe.” Agatha chuckled bitterly, refusing to meet your eyes. “If she doesn’t immediately kick you out, I’m going to enjoy riling her up.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

At last, Agatha’s focus was diverted from her phone as she looked briefly over to you, mildly intrigued by your perseverance. “I was just going to see how it went when we get there.” She replied, shrugging.

“Great…”

“And until then, don’t mention this to a single soul.” Agatha jabbed an accusatory finger in your direction. “We continue as normal for the next day and a half, with me singlehandedly driving this company to success, and you following me about all dazed and heart-eyed.”

“What!” You protested. “I do not follow you about, nor do I have heart eyes!”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart.” She smirked, radiating an irritating charm that had you forgetting how to breathe for a second. You wrung your hands about anxiously in your lap, willing yourself to relax.

“Our flight leaves at 6pm on Friday, so we’ll have to go straight from work,” Agatha said, changing the subject. “You can hide your luggage in my office, and we’ll have my driver pick us up so that saves that hassle…”

She trailed off suddenly, and despite your insistence on not getting too caught up in the intricacies of your boss’ behaviour, you peaked over at her. Just like earlier in the immigration office, she was chewing at her lip, this time with a faraway expression. You frowned, sensing she was nervous about something. It set you slightly on edge to see her this way. Agatha was never nervous. Big meetings didn’t faze her, important deadlines never stressed her out and public speaking was like a second nature to her. Where once this bravery had been sickeningly envious, its disappearance now gave you concern.

Agatha was a mystery to you, one you were reluctant to address, yet desperate to understand.

---

Agatha flopped down onto her desk chair with a huff, allowing her head to fall backwards and feeling her neck crack with the movement. The tension that racked her body seemed to grudgingly resist lessening, and she considered whether she ought to just take the remainder of the day off. But that would be suspicious...

She loathed the idea that her every decision was being monitored but dreaded to imagine the other option: moving back home, back in her mother’s grasp. She hadn’t seen the woman in over ten years, and to think now that she would spend the weekend in her company… Agatha groaned, letting her face crash forward into her hands. She squeezed her eyes shut, and in the darkness saw only her mother, pictured how she would be reacting to the news that Agatha would be joining them for part of the trip.

As per usual, her attempt to reach out to her mother had been met by silence. She was starting to suspect her number was blocked, and thus Agatha had instead chosen to inform Lilia Calderu about this impromptu reunion. The woman was cooky, but kind. She had always been Agatha’s one ally within the family, and since her emancipation, was the only one who had bothered to stay in contact.

As if abruptly summoned from her thoughts, Agatha’s phone buzzed across the table, likely holding more information from Lilia. With a sigh, she reached forward to raise the lit screen into her eye line, yet was surprised to be met by another’s name

[4:10pm] Jennifer Kale: you’re coming to Salem????

Agatha chuckled, though not out of humour. Jen was one of the many people her mother seemed to just acquire. It was a terrible feature of Evanore Harkness: that the crazy gravitated towards her, became involved in their family and never left.

The word ‘family’ didn’t quite sit right with Agatha. It was more like a cult.

[4:11pm] Agatha Harkness: I am. I take it you’re still hanging about?

[4:12pm] Jennifer Kale: well when you abandoned ship someone had to replace you.

Agatha scoffed, ignoring the wave of irritation at Jen’s phrasing. She was irreplaceable. Though the idea that her own mother should even try to swap one daughter out for another didn’t exactly come as a surprise. Nonetheless, it still hurt. Agatha crossed her arms over her chest, deciding to pursue the conversation no further.

[4:15pm] Jennifer Kale: Lilia mentioned you were bringing a plus-one. who is she?

At this, Agatha’s loathing softened ever so slightly. Jen was one of the few that had supported her coming out, had even attempted to defend her from Evanora’s outrage. She picked the phone back up, feeling a smile grace her lips as she started to type.

[4:15pm] Agatha Harkness: someone I’ve been seeing for a while. She’s nice. You’ll like her.

The message was a simple lie, but it did the job.

Still, reading it back Agatha found she had a lot more to say about you…

NEXT PART

#agatha harkness x reader

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idrellegames · 2 days ago

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Hiya! I was just thinking about eisaraths approach to age. Does every race have an age that separates their childhood and adulthood? What about mixed people who age uniquely? What about traditions related to birthdays? And laws on drugs? (I guess they wouldnt have ids tho) Thanks ^^

This is a bit of a complicated question to answer since it is not consistent throughout the world, and regional culture is far more important than ancestry in most places (the outliers are cities like Aos and Maira, which are aeda and melusine metropolises respectively). But generally adulthood is considered somewhere between 16 and 20 years depending on where you are.

Rhesainian countries do not celebrate birthdays; birth year is far more important in terms of marking age. In some regions where Lyrana (the god of love, family, music and the arts) is the regional deity it is tradition to give the mother or parent who gave birth a small token in remembrance of their labour.

Most celebrations in Rhesainia are community-based or religious in nature. Some Meissandic nations may view children born during the month of Harrowmere (the seventh month) as an ill omen. This is the only month where the primary moon goes dark and the secondary, shattered moon is visible.

Drugs and alcohol are not legally regulated in this world. It likely wouldn't even occur to them.

#wayfarer #wayfarer if #wayfarer lore #answered

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hymnserendipity · 2 days ago

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Dabi unclear feelings pt. 1

Hurt, no gender mentioned

You and Dabi weren't really a couple, more than anything else you lived together and often had sex, but of the two you were the more emotional one, you often cuddled up to him, kissed him, massaged his shoulders, prepared food for him. You just told him that you will prepare him a nice hot bath this evening.

"Damn it. You're being all lovey-dovey today." He said gruffly, his eyes looking into yours.

"I love you Touya." Dabi's eyes widened at your words, his heart skipping a beat. He wasn't used to anyone expressing love for him, let alone you.

He felt a strange feeling in his chest, a mixture of vulnerability and affection.

"Tch. You're getting all sappy on me." He muttered, his hand holding you closer, as if relishing your embrace. Despite his cold demeanor, Dabi found himself unable to hide the effect your declaration had on him.

You kiss his forehead gently.

"You really love this ugly face, huh?" He muttered, a hint of vulnerability in his eyes.

"Yes, and you're not ugly." Dabi looked at you, his eyes searching your face.

"What's with those eyes of yours?" He asked bluntly, referring to the hint of sadness in them.

"You gonna burst into tears or something?"

"No." Dabi raised a brow at your response, disbelief in his eyes.

"You look like you're about to cry, damn it. What's got you all emotional?" He asked gruffly, his hand rubbing your back gently.

"I just... Don't know what u think." Dabi let out a heavy sigh, his eyes flickering to yours, its always the same.

"What do you mean? What I think about what?" He questioned, his tone more serious now, sensing your vulnerability.

"About me. About... us." Dabi fell silent for a moment, his hand still rubbing your back.

He took a deep breath, his eyes looking into yours again.

"Well... I don't hate you. And as far as 'us' goes..."

He trailed off, hesitant to continue.He clenched his jaw, his gaze flickering away from you.

"It's complicated, alright?" He said gruffly, his hand gripping the bed covers, feeling a sense of unease in his chest.

He always says that

"I get It." Dabi let out a heavy sigh, his eyes watching you play with you switch.

"You always understand me too damn well." He muttered, a hint of vulnerability in his voice.

"It's like you can read me like a damn book."

"I'm...I'm gonna make food." You say, walking to the kitchen with teary eyes. You knew he didnt love you back, but you wish he could. Be with him, love him, while you know he doesn't feel the same makes you feel sad. Dabi watched as you left the room, a subtle frown on his face. He could tell you were upset, and he knew he was the indirect cause of your tears.

His mind whirled, his heart feeling a pang of guilt. He was never good at dealing with emotions, especially other peoples'.

He sat there for a few moments, silently wrestling with his own thoughts.After a while of contemplating in silence, he groaned in frustration.

"Damn it... why does they have to make everything so complicated." He muttered to himself, his hand running through his hair in irritation.

He glanced in the direction you had gone, his mind still preoccupied with your earlier tears."Why does they have to be so sensitive all the time?" He muttered to himself, his eyes flickering again to the kitchen where you were.

He let out a frustrated sigh. Dabi's eyes widened slightly as the realization hit him. He had always known you cared for him, but now he fully understood the depth of your feelings. You truly loved him, not just because he was good in bed, but because he was... him.

A strange feeling washed over him, a mix of vulnerability and surprise. No one had ever loved him so completely before. He glanced down at your pillow, at your spot, oblivious to the inner turmoil going on in his mind.

"Damn it... They loves me, like, a lot." He muttered to himself, his mind racing with conflicting emotions. It dawned on Dabi that your sadness was a result of his own lack of clear feelings towards you. He had been so focused on avoiding commitment that he hadn't given you any reassurance about what he felt for you.

The weight of his own obliviousness hit him like a ton of bricks, and he clenched his jaw in frustration.

"Damn it... I've been such a self-absorbed prick. They needs some kind of answer from me."

#my hero academia #mha dabi #bnha dabi #dabi #dabi x you #dabi x reader #dabi x y/n #mha x reader #mha #bnha

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httpvomitello · 2 days ago

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Shell of Trust *⁠.⁠✧

The night was quieter than usual, the streets below empty and shadowed by the glow of dim streetlights. Raphael leaned against the rooftop ledge, his arms crossed, glaring down at the sidewalk as though it had personally offended him.

"Why do you look like someone stole your bike?" Mikey's voice rang out, far too chipper for this late hour.

Raph grunted. "I'm not mad, Mikey. Just… thinkin’."

Mikey leaned back on the ledge, munching on a slice of pizza he'd somehow managed to bring on patrol. "Thinking about her, aren’t ya?"

Raph’s head whipped toward him, a growl forming in his throat. "What’re you talkin’ about?"

"You know! April's bestie—you totally like her." Mikey grinned, unbothered by the death glare Raph was giving him.

Raph didn’t bother denying it. You were on his mind more than he cared to admit. You were sweet but kept your walls up, even with him. The others chalked it up to you being shy, but Raph knew better. He’d seen the way your smile faltered when certain topics came up, the way you avoided having them over to your place, how you’d change the subject when anything personal was mentioned.

“Whatever,” he muttered, pushing off the ledge. “Let’s just finish patrol.”

Later that night, Raph found himself standing outside your building. He didn’t plan to stop by, but his feet seemed to have a mind of their own. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been there before, but you’d always kept visits brief, meeting him at the window or insisting on hanging out somewhere else.

Tonight, though, curiosity gnawed at him. Something didn’t add up.

He climbed up the fire escape and peeked through your window, his eyes scanning the cozy living room inside. His gaze landed on a little girl curled up on the couch, watching cartoons with a stuffed rabbit tucked under her arm.

Raph froze. A kid?

Before he could process what he was seeing, the girl turned toward the window—and screamed.

“Mommy!”

Raph stumbled back, his heart racing. He didn’t mean to scare her. “Ah, crap,” he muttered under his breath.

The window opened a moment later, and there you stood, your face pale with worry. When your eyes landed on him, relief flooded your features.

“Damm... Raph?”

“Hey,” he said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Didn’t mean to freak anyone out. I—uh—just wanted to check on ya.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line as you glanced back into the apartment, where your daughter was peeking out cautiously. You stepped outside, closing the door behind you.

“What are you doing here?” you asked softly, though there was no anger in your tone.

Raph shrugged, avoiding your eyes. “Was in the neighborhood.”

You sighed, crossing your arms. “Look, I appreciate you coming by, but… now you know. I have a daughter.”

He looked at you then, his expression unreadable. “Yeah, I figured. Why didn’t ya tell me?”

“I didn’t want to,” you admitted, your voice quiet. “Not because I don’t trust you, but because… it’s complicated.”

Raph leaned against the railing, his gaze steady on you. “Try me.”

You hesitated, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your sweater. “Her dad left when I told him I was pregnant. He… he didn’t want anything to do with us. And ever since then, people have treated me like I’m some kind of failure. Like Anne’s a mistake or a burden.”

Raph’s hands clenched into fists at your words. “That guy’s an idiot. You’re one of the strongest people I know.”

You gave a small, humorless laugh. “That’s nice of you to say, but it doesn’t change the way people look at us. I didn’t want you—or any of the guys—to look at me that way, either.”

“What the fu... Is that what you think we’d do?” he asked, his voice low.

“No,” you said quickly. “Not really. But I couldn’t risk it. Anne’s been through enough, and so have I.”

Raph stayed quiet for a moment, his green eyes watching you carefully. Finally, he said, “You don’t gotta hide stuff from me. You think I’m gonna judge you ‘cause some jerk didn’t know how good he had it? Nah. If anything, I get it.”

You blinked at him. “You do?”

He nodded, his voice softening. “People see me and my brothers as nothin’ but monsters. They don’t bother gettin’ to know us, just judge us on sight. So yeah, I get what it’s like havin’ to prove yourself to people who don’t deserve it.”

Your eyes stung with unshed tears, but you quickly wiped them away. “I didn’t think about it like that.”

Raph shrugged. “Guess we’re more alike than ya thought.”

You smiled then, a real, genuine smile. “Thank you, Raph.”

“For what?”

“For… not making me feel like I have to hide.”

He smirked. “Don’t mention it. But, uh, maybe you should introduce me to the kid. She sounded pretty freaked out.”

You laughed softly. “Yeah, she’s… not used to seeing turtles the size of linebackers.”

“Well, I ain’t so bad once ya get to know me,” he said, his tone teasing.

“Maybe,” you said, your smile growing. “But take it slow, okay? She’s my whole world.”

Raph nodded, his expression turning serious. “I get it. I won’t do anything to mess that up. You got my word.”

As Raph followed you back inside, offering a small wave to Anne, you realized you might have found someone willing to carry a little of the weight with you.

#reader #x reader #y/n #tmnt #tmnt x reader #bayverse tmnt x reader #f!reader #tmnt bayverse #bayverse leonardo #bayverse mikey #bayverse donnie #bayverse raphael

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sasakisniko · 6 months ago

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Romantic love and friendship love are not mutually exclusive and feeling one does not inherently cheapen or negate the other. There's a reason friends-to-lovers is such a popular ship type.

#discourse #i've seen this complaint all over in fandom and while i get the sentiment #i think that it's far more complicated than that #we all ship different ships for different reasons #and i think a lot of fandom is people making assumptions about people's interpretations and motivations #like i grew up on mulder and scully right?#now over the many seasons and movies #they've been platonic and romantic and all over the place tbh #but i think what a lot of people were drawn to was what started with friendship for them #the devotion to each other #the trust #the absolutely unhinged things they'd do to save each other #and yeah loving them as a ship and wanting to see them together didn't deny or cheapen or negate the friendship #it just became friendship and romantic for a lot of the shippers #idk if any of this makes any sense #and yeah i get the frustration of dealing with shippers #because i've been there too #i know how when you don't ship a thing romantically #it's impossible to interact with fandom and avoid the ship #like more than half of my dash ships a ship on a show i watch that i very much do not ship so i GET IT #but idk as a big believer in ship and let ship #idk maybe it's 'both and' not 'either or'#and we all know what they say about making assumptions...

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orion-pdf · 1 month ago

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my live reaction to wwdits season 6 summarized

#ok the start of the season started off a teeeny bit slow (as usual)#but GODDAMN #episodes 2 and 3 were good as hell #A-tier potentially #i loooooved the baron cameo and the guide and guillermo’s new office job #i looove the nadja going out into the human world plotline too #tho nandermo being doomed by the narrative is so tragic #is it canon that they both have some verrrryyy complicated feelings for each other? yes #is it canon that they both like each other a lot more than they let on? yes #ESPECIALLY nandor he’s the culprit of this #but will they kiss? atm i am inclined to think no #judging by how it’s going so far especially #tho i know in my heart nandor cried in his coffin a little bit when guillermo left #quite literally the most doomed of doomed yaoi #what we do in the shadows spoilers #what we do in the shadows #what we do in the shadows season 6 #wwdits #wwdits spoilers

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wutheringmights · 2 months ago

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Okay I’ve been trying to put my thoughts together on this for a while. I would really like to hear about the matriarchy vs patriarchy in your Hyrule.

I mean, so. In the most recent chapter we heard a bit about the royal family, the queen of Hyrule seemingly was the face of the crown, with the king potentially being a less public figure, several daughters were born, and died until current Zelda was born. The king didn’t seem to think it was a bad thing that the last child of his late wife was a girl. So, obviously a woman can lead, and is allowed to rule the kingdom, although not uncontested, that may just be a facet of a power hungry kingdom.

This leads into the Shiekah, absolutely a matriarchy the militarist and spiritual leader (who is seemingly usually the same person) is assumedly always a woman, Impa. The Shiekah always serve the crown.

The generals of Hyrule as far as I can tell consist majorly of men and to my memory there is no named female generals, and, there are no female solders. Yes, there are Zora and sheikah “soldiers” but these are lent soldiers from different nations. At the start of the story the draft is specifically mentioned to draft every man older than fifteen. Meemaw’s sons both enlisted in the war, one was drafted the other seemingly enlisted himself. Kat was not enlisted. Of course it was only required for one son to enlist at the start of the war, and near the second Kat was unlikely to be forced to fight due to her condition. There are mainly woman and children in the civilian camp, the wives and family of enlisted soldiers. When Legend was in hiding he hid in the civilian camp and was a woman. Which to me implies that it is less suspicious to be a woman in the camp then a man. Which again to me implies that a woman is less likely to be drafted then a man. Which makes me believe that the draft is not applied to woman.

Now, the knights of Hyrule most certainly have woman amongst their ranks, but the knights seem to be more voluntary then the army. And! Feature many other nations in their ranks. Zora, Gerudo, and Goron, all have major roles within this organization.

Okay, maybe this is less of a question and more of an analyzes of the gender roles in the military of Hyrule .

I Do have a question at the end of this though!

Are woman allowed in the army? And if they are is it voluntary? Or are they drafted just the same as men?

Sorry if my phrasing is weird, I’ve maybe put too much thought into this! Thank you!!!<3<3<3

My initial vision for the Hyrule in CTB was for it to be very, very sexist society. I ended up curbing back that idea because I realized that I was the only person on the planet who wanted to see a shit ton of sexism in their loz fic.

Instead, Hyrule is a patriarchy in a post-feminism society. There was once a heavy amount of sexism affecting daily life that, while not blatant now, still makes the foundations of Hylian culture. Draft laws were made when there was a larger gender disparity. They have not been changed because, well, deep down no one wants to force women to go to war. The cultural value is still there even as society has become more equal.

That means that there are no female soldiers, and ergo no women in the upper brass. If a Hylian woman wants to join the military, she has to join the medical team or be in the support staff.

Gender roles are more rigid among Hyrule's elite, with men taking most positions of power. Respectable women are expected to spend their time in more traditionally feminine ways, such as managing an estate or charity. Gender roles are less rigid outside of the upper class. Some members of the middle class emulate the elite's rigidity, while others embody a freer perspective. Nearly every lower class woman works for a living, but there are some men who nonetheless idealize the subservient housewife. Not much different from life nowadays.

(I wanted to have Linkle be a budding feminist who had a really flat, naive view of what it meant to be feminist. For example, she would complain that women should be included in the draft so that women would be treated as equals, not that no person deserves to have their right to life taken by the government; I ended up needing to use Linkle's screen time for matters relating to the plot. That being said, a modern day Linkle would unironically have Notorious RBG merchandise.)

All that's to say that Hyrule is a fairly strict patriarchy. The way Zelda and the women of the Royal Family obtain "power" has less to do with any actual power and more to do with her function as a figurehead.

Because Zelda is Hylia incarnate, strict expectations of purity and goodness is imposed onto her. She has to be a madonna-like figure. Failure to embody this idealized femininity is not acceptable. As long as she conforms to this image, she has some influence. But if she ever dares to stray, she's is to be punished if not formally then socially. She would not only be a failure, but a pariah.

Because the monarchy's right to rule is derived from Hylia's bloodline, the crown can be passed on to anyone of any gender, decided by birth order. A son is preferred, but passing the crown onto the husband of the eldest Zelda is traditional. Queens can hold the throne, and there is a precedent of princesses becoming the primary monarch with their spouses regulated to consort.

However, that decision is based on politics. A princess who wants to be the primary monarch would have to campaign among the nobles to ensure that there will be no dissent. Some princesses train their entire lives to rule the kingdom independently. Other princesses plan on finding an advantageous partner who would become king while they manage more religious duties. And even more princesses are married off in their parents' political schemes.

Above all, the bloodline of Hylia has to stay on the throne. As long as there is an heir to inherit and produce more heirs, all is well. Twilight's Zelda married another woman, which was controversial because she would not be able to produce an heir within her marriage; she did not declare an heir before her passing in order to avoid an upset in court politics; her reign was quickly followed by a period of unrest as the nobles with vague royal ties made claims as to having the most of Hylia's blood within their family line. (I mentioned all that somewhere before; if not in CTB, then on this blog somewhere.)

But that's just the Hylians. The other tribes of Hyrule have different gender standards. (The Gerudo and Gorons more or less have one gender each, so we'll skip them.)

Rito are the most egalitarian of the tribes, mostly by way of being less of a cohesive group and more of a collection of nomadic flocks.

The Zora have a similar gender inequality as the Hylians, albeit slightly stricter. Zora woman had a higher social expectation to marry and product children. While working outside of the home is possible, it's seen as temporary step before marriage. Though, with their extended lifespans, most Hylians do not live to see when Zora women leave the workforce to become house wives; it's a common misconception among liberal Hylians that the Zora have a more egalitarian society. (In story, Orlanda complained that her parents still expected her to give up knighthood in favor of setting down and becoming a mother.)

The Sheikah are the true all-genders-being-equal culture (which is balanced out by the cultist ideology imposed on the members of the tribe). The head of the clan, Impa, is traditionally a woman because she is expected to be the handmaiden of Hylia incarnate. If there are no female heirs to Hylia's bloodline living, it is possible for a man to become the head of the tribe. He would shed his mortal identity and become Impaz.

And finally, let's talk the Knights of Hyrule. Believe it or not, but the issue of the clan's inclusivity has less to do with gender and more with race. Because the clan originated as a bloodline, women would have been expected to serve the clan in some form, with the sporadic woman achieving knighthood. Over hundreds of years, this became more frequent until it was a regular occurrence.

The clan opened up to non-Harkinians around 150 years ago in a bid to bolster the dying clan's numbers. Fifty years after that, the clan allowed non-Hylians. The knights were perceived as being a second-Sheikah clan that existed only to terrorize non-Hylians. Great-great-etc. grandparent of Warriors opened the clan to the other tribes in a bid to prevent the monarchy from stripping the clan of power or disbanding them entirely.

Gradually, non-Hylains rose in the ranks before becoming knights themselves. The speed and frequency depended entirely on the current Master Knight's beliefs. The clan was long integrated by the time Lincoln took power, but he has a goal to switch either the Knight of Forest or the Knight of Light to another non-human, preferably a Rito.

#sometimes i am asked a world building question and the answer is a sheepish 'i did not think that far ahead my dude'#but this is a rare time where the answer is 'i actually put a lot of thought into lore that will never reach the page'#assuming hyrule would have to be a matriarchy because of the hylia thing kinda irks me? I've seen people argue it before and like #i totally get it but at the same time there is sexism built into the hyrule we see in the games. it is already more complicated than 'we #defeated sexism because god is a woman'#all that's to say thank you for asking. i could talk about this shit all day #me rambling #lu ctb #ask #linked universe #ctb lore #kiwibirdkiwi

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