#most influential powers moving the world

[yueebby]

𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 – 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

synopsis. period piece, forbidden love

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You remembered it all too well.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your eyes widen. 

“You cannot be serious.”

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

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

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

1 YEAR AGO

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

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

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

His ministrations stop almost immediately. 

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

“No, but—”

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

Your mouth waters at the thought.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How wrong you were.

PRESENT DAY

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You bow, “Yes sir.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The memory of it still irks you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?” He sounds breathless.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You rush to it, desperate to read your fate.

To [Last Name] [First Name],

Greetings and prosperity unto you.

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

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

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

The Imperial Court

A loud gasp escapes your mouth.

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

extra!

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

[teastyun]

༺ paid undone

arcane sevika x female reader (nsfw)

working as an owner of a mechanics shop at day and prostitute at night at Zaun's most famous brothel, you expect a quiet night shift after a hard day of work. your expectations go avail and you miserably fail at keeping your identity hidden from Sevika, who has just earlier visited you at your shop that day.

a/n: instead of listening to my lecture on English diachronic history I wrote this in my notes app and dear god pls let me ride her until my legs fall off

masterlist

putting your makeup pouch back into your personal small closet, you wonder who's today's clients will be. on your way to work, you've noticed how empty and calm the streets are recently. no fights, no big groups lingering in each corner eyeing anyone that's passing by, only a few drunkards at their usual shit.

words were spread about an ex-prison mate duelling her way through the ring in the center of Zaun after a fatal crisis in the upper world. interestingly enough, the brothel's business wasn't booming since her entry in Zaun, equalling a calm shift for you. lucky for you, you're paid per hour instead of per client, so you expect a good rest after your long shift at your mechanics shop.

as your usual routine, you put your mask on and wrap a robe around your lightly clothed body, before you take a quick trip to visit the madam and owner of the brothel.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ

entering the long dark hallway, you keep your head low and walk steady towards the madam's room.

on your way you pass several rooms with slightly open doors, revealing the sounds of huffing, moaning, but also laughing. despite the empty streets, the brothel seems to be lively today, nonetheless.

you take a deep breath and close your eyes, as your fingers touched the doorknob of the room. your boss is a lovely old lady, but sometimes intimidates the shit out of you, despite the years you've already worked at her institution.

"there you are, y/n." she looks up from her papers with a cigarette in between her long wrinkled fingers decorated with heavy rings and long painted nails. you are one of her longest and most reliable workers, and she makes sure to treat you accordingly.

"s'bit a teeny quiet, ain't it?" she looks up at you with her long, cat eye-ish lashes and heavy purple eyeshadow accentuating her wrinkles around them. in response you lightly nod, not sure why she's suddenly talking about anything but your upcoming client.

you look at her as you wait for her to continue.

her fingernails tap like a melody against her cigarette trinklet, making you nervous with each taping sound.

"m'love, i've got a rather... special client waiting for you today. are you aware of Silco's... mates?"

while deep in your thoughts you first nod, but quickly shake your head after.

earlier, you've seen a slender girl with long blue braids at your shop, a tall and intimidatingly buff woman with a heavy red cloak covering half her body, following her close behind without exchanging a single word with either the girl, nor you. but, where they really from Silco?

the madam watches every single move of yours. her head tilts mischievously at your response. "very well. tonight, i assigned a special lady of Silco's to you. she's waiting for you in room xii."

your already tense nerves aren't pleased to hear about today's responsibility you're taking, but you silently thank her by lightly bowing your torso before you make your way to the assigned room.

her voice stops you as you open the heavily decorated door. "and y/n, make sure to please her with every single pretty ounce of yours."

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ

you were already fucked before you even entered the room.

you expected a calm, restful shift with easy clients. instead, you have one of the most powerful and influential people of Zaun in your rooms, waiting for you to finally enter.

not looking up as you close the door behind you, you take off your robe while trying to maintain your breathing. as it falls to the floor, you take a quick glance at her.

there she is, the same woman you were eyeing up and down today at the mechanics shop. will she recognise you?

hoping that won't be the case in sake of your privacy and reputation, you slowly walk to the backless stool in front of her as you take a seat.

on your way, you carefully observe her. she even has the same clothes on as earlier. the grey and red tones in her clothing accentuate her toned body underneath. looking closely, she even seems to be hiding something underneath her mysterious cloak.

without further thought, you greet her by bowing your head lightly in respect, waiting for her to make the next move.

you notice her shifting in her seat, as she leans towards you while resting her free arm on her knee.

confused by her behaviour, you look up and notice her brown eyes piercing yours. she is incredibly intimidating and you can't help the furrow that sneaks between your eyebrows in confusion beneath your mask. you've never had a client look at you for minutes without a single sound nor move.

normally, your client has a certain thought wanting to be practiced with you as soon as possible, since time is money, especially in this brothel, where clients pay per minute. Zaun isn't necessarily known for its strong economy, so clients sometimes visit on the occasion for only a handful of minutes before they need leave.

but this, this was different. her piercing eyes where warm, but somehow so cold at the same time as she slowly eyes your appearance.

you're wearing a beautiful set of lingerie in your best colours with white lace accentuating your finest features. elegant body chains and dangling jewelry make sounds as you move your body. unlike your other lingerie sets, this one is extremely revealing around your chest, showing no fabric on the front of your breasts and leaving them on full display to see. your bottoms is attached to your stockings matching your set with clips on the front and back of each thigh.

her eyes stopped at the sight of your thighs pressing against the band of your stockings before continuing down your legs. as they move back up, you try accentuate your breasts by taking a deep breath, while looking at her through your mask with expecting eyes.

a smirk appears on her lips. "are you nervous?"

her rough voice creates goosebumps on your skin, but the question agitates you. why would the first thing she says to you be such assumption?

you tilt your head in response, not sure of how to react to such thing. she is still only a few centimetres away from you, making the distance between you incredibly tense.

she copies the tilt in your head and looks deeply into your eyes, searching for something specific in them.

"I'm Sevika," she whispers a mere distance away from you as she holds out her hand.

you take another deep breath and touch her hand in a handshake, making the situation feel so ridiculous. what was she trying to get out of you?

her hand feels incredibly big. and fuck, you wish you could feel that rough skin between your folds. just the mere thought made you clench around nothing as your cunt is soaking in your lingerie. before your thoughts could continue, you slipped your hand back. your eyes never left hers.

she leans back and rests against the cushions behind her, as she eyes you once more. this time, her eyes won't leave your chest.

your nipples are perky from the cool air in the room despite the lack of ventilation. or maybe you really are nervous?

"you're not much of a talker huh?" she continues, "show me yourself."

you reach back to unclasp your bra, but she stops you, "no, show me what you usually do here."

her eyes roam the heavily decorated room and your thoughts are spiralling. at her request, you stand up and receive a box of toys each room has available on the side of the lounging area.

in it, you look for a dildo and bottle of lube. what were you doing with most of your clients? this woman made you ask yourself questions you've never considered being asked.

all of your clients are normally males, which are in heavy need of a relief by pushing their dicks into your hole and calling it a day. you didn't mind, since it's the routine of your income at the end of the day.

but right here and now, you were supposed to fuck yourself with a dildo in front of this woman, who watches every single move of yours with piercing eyes. and fuck, you felt small.

leaning back on your stool, you fully removed your soaking thong, hoping she wouldn't notice your wetness literally stringing to your cunt as you remove it.

to your disadvantage, she notices everything. her eyes follow the soaked thong falling to the ground, before they move up to look into your eyes again. fuck, this feels so much more intimate than any sex you've ever had and you continue dripping from your cunt at her dark gaze.

you spread your legs apart, hoping to drag her gaze down there. your eyes finally break the eye contact and follow the movement of your hands as you squirt some lubricant on the side of the dildo. it is veiny and big, a difference to the ones of your average clients.

with one arm resting on another stool behind you, you glide the sides of the dildo through your folds, making your chest jump at the feeling of the cold lube. you spread the lubricant across the dildo by dragging and shifting it through your folds, bumping your sensitive clit.

you look back into her eyes, questioning if you should really do this by hesitating with your next move.

she finally looks down at your dripping pussy coated with lubricant. on cue, you push the dildo completely aside in one go.

you want to see her reaction, but a moan escapes your lips as you try to stay quiet. this woman was onto something, but there's no way she can identify you from earlier.

nervous to look at her, you drag your eyes back to hers while slowly fucking yourself with the dildo. she seems to become restless, too.

it was her turn to look at you with furrowed brows as you began to fuck yourself harder, while trying to maintain your breath as you're biting your lower lip in pleasure.

fucking yourself faster and harder, trying to chase the warmth in your lower belly without success, you throw your head back hoping not a single sound escapes your lips.

your arm begins to hurt and you can feel the sweat building up on your forehead and cheekbones from exhaustion.

fuck, you really are about to sob. you look so pathetic trying to chase your own high while failing miserably, knowing acting one out won't go through with her.

"you can't come, beautiful?" she asks teasingly and grins at your miserable state. upset with her comment you look at her and you finally see it.

"here," she tells you, petting her lap her one hand, where she somehow managed to attach a harness on when you were in your own element.

you stopped your movements immediately and slipped the dildo out without any thought, wincing at the uncomfortable feeling inside of you before attaching it to her harness and climbing into her lap.

as you attach it through her harness, your thighs rest on her firm lap. and god, this woman was incredibly handsome. her strong facial features look even sharper with her heavy dark eyes piercing yours.

you really weren't sure what she was getting out of this. any other client would've been already chasing their orgasm inside you. Sevika hasn't touched you once. she hasn't even taken off any of her clothing yet.

as the wet dildo rests against your folds, you eye her cloak. before realising her bionic arm, she already has it moved to press a cold hand on your back to push you closer. she looks up for a reaction, but you grasp her shoulders to steady yourself without a sound.

her bionic arm cups your ass, making you gasp at the cold feeling on your skin, and her other hand pushes the dildo easily into you again, making your head throw back in pleasure of feeling full again in her presence.

adjusting once again at the feeling of being full, you look at her with heavy eyelids.

"can i touch you?" she asks quietly, her eyes never leaving yours.

you nod and push your chest towards her face as a cue. she grins at your boldness and presses a wet kiss on your breast, as her hand grips your hips, making them roll against her strap. her mouth sucks and bites your skin around your nipples, occasionally licking your perky nipple, making you see stars behind that mask.

as she sucks harder and harder, you beginn to slowly grind into her. your job has never felt this intimate with any client before.

her bionic arm holds you steady against her as her hips grind to meet yours. your breath was incredibly unsteady, trying to deal with the pleasure that builds up inside your core. her mouth travelled up to your exposed ear, nibbling at your dangling piercings and licking your earlobe. "you're in control, beautiful. do whatever you like," she whispers.

you stop in your tracks to look at her almost in shock. spiralling in your head, you don't know what to do. did you ever have control over your clients? trembling, you reached for a vibrator and pressed it into her hand.

"hold this against my clit as i ride you," you tell her quietly. hearing your voice, a smile sneaks onto her lips. "gladly," she responds and turns it on.

she kisses your breast before pressing the vibrator softly against your clit. you loudly moan from the sudden stimulation, beginning to ride her strap like there's no tomorrow. she sucks and bites your nipple, making you see more stars than before. your sighs and gasps turn into moans, not caring about hiding your voice from her anymore.

the dildo presses perfectly against your sweet spot inside of you as the vibrator teases your clit and you can't get enough of it. fuck, you're becoming greedy of this woman. you've never achieved such pleasure inside of you with anyone nor alone.

feeling your the warmth slowly building up in your lower belly, you whisper breathlessly "i-i'm close, Sevika," through your mask, not sure if she could even decipher your words. she reacts by biting down on your skin and cupping your ass with her bionic hand, almost making you scream as you grind restlessly on her strap as the vibrator bumps your wet clit.

and there it is, the sudden white spots clouding your vision as come hard on her strap. you reach for her hand to turn of the vibrator, scared of overstimulating yourself after coming for the first time in such a long time.

too blissed out from the feeling, your head falls onto her shoulder and she presses a soft kiss on on your neck.

"you did great, beautiful," she tells you and you feel her warm breath against your damp skin.

your mask shifts and the realisation hits you.

you slip it back into its place, slip off her strap with a wince and stumble back onto the stool, trying to compose yourself.

Sevika detaches the strap and there you see the bionic arm for the first time. it looked heavy with its several mechanics surrounding it, but then you notice the shimmer going through it like veins. fuck, did you almost get fucked with fucking shimmer inside of it?

she stands up and rearranges her clothing, seeming to take a leave as she hands you a stack of cash from her pouch.

"what about you?" you ask confused. she says nothing but presses the cash into your hand.

"madam won't allow me to take it," you say, looking up at her from the cash in your hands.

her hand softly cups your cheek and strokes your cheekbone with her thumb. "invest it in your shop, beautiful."

stunned by her comment, you sit there completely moveless.

she presses the doorknob as she is about to leave, but she stops mid-tracks before finally leaving the room.

"good to see you again."

masterlist ; pt. 2

[w1w2]

A Contract of Silence

Part 1 | Next part

Giselle x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ca. 6k

Synopsis: A young mute woman is drawn into the world of a powerful CEO through an unexpected proposition that could change her life and her family’s future forever.

Notes: I've been obsessed with When the Phone Rings lately, and it has been inspiring a little.

English isn’t my first language so I apologize in advance for any mistakes.

♡ Enjoy! ♡

Y/N’s heart pounded as the elevator doors glided open to the executive floor of Uchinaga Couture. A soft chime signaled her arrival, and she stepped out hesitantly, her worn flats making barely a sound against the pristine marble floors. The space around her was intimidatingly sleek, high ceilings, gold-accented furniture, and white walls so spotless they practically glowed under the recessed lighting. Every inch of the space radiated power and exclusivity.

The air was cool and quiet, the only sounds were the faint hum of the air conditioning and the distant clicking of keyboards from the rows of assistants stationed in glass-walled offices. It was the kind of silence that felt heavy, like it demanded perfection from anyone who dared to linger too long.

Y/N clutched her bag tightly against her chest, trying to steady her breathing. Her mind raced, replaying the cryptic message she’d received from Giselle Uchinaga’s assistant earlier that morning.

“Miss Uchinaga would like to see you in her office. Immediately.”

Why would Giselle Uchinaga, the CEO of one of the world’s most renowned fashion houses, a woman so influential she rarely made public appearances, want to meet with her? Y/N wasn’t even an intern yet.

Her fingers instinctively reached for her phone in her bag. She’d been rehearsing a polite introduction during the entire elevator ride, but now, standing here surrounded by the grandeur of Uchinaga Couture’s upper echelon, her words felt hollow. Would she even be able to speak at all in the presence of someone like Giselle?

The receptionist sitting behind a minimalist gold and glass desk barely glanced up from her screen. “Miss Uchinaga is waiting for you,” she said, her tone clipped and professional, as though this sort of summoning happened every day.

Y/N nodded. She smoothed the front of her blouse, realizing with dismay that it was slightly wrinkled from her hurried commute.

The receptionist gestured toward a pair of imposing glass doors at the far end of the hallway. They stood like gates to another world, one Y/N wasn’t sure she was ready to enter.

She hesitated, but the receptionist’s pointed look left no room for second guessing. Forcing her feet to move, Y/N approached the doors, each step feeling heavier than the last.

The office beyond the doors was even more magnificent than the hallway. Vast and bathed in natural light, it was dominated by floor to ceiling windows that offered an uninterrupted view of the city skyline. The desk at the center of the room was a masterpiece of sleek mahogany, polished to a mirror finish. Behind it sat Giselle Uchinaga herself.

Y/N had seen Giselle in magazines and online, always poised, with an untouchable elegance that made her seem more like a mythical figure than a real person. In person, that aura of control was even more pronounced.

Giselle didn’t immediately acknowledge her presence. She sat with her back straight, her silky black hair falling like a curtain over one shoulder as she studied the glowing screen of her tablet. A fountain pen rested delicately between her fingers, tapping soundlessly against the desk. Her tailored navy suit accentuated her sharp features, and even seated, her posture exuded authority.

“Miss Y/N,” Giselle said finally, without looking up. Her voice was smooth and controlled, with a faint edge of disinterest. “Have a seat.”

Y/N obeyed quickly, lowering herself onto the leather chair in front of the desk. It was so soft and luxurious she worried for a moment that she might sink into it entirely. She folded her hands in her lap, trying not to fidget as she waited.

Seconds stretched into what felt like minutes. Giselle remained focused on her tablet, her fingers scrolling through unseen files with practiced precision.

Y/N used the opportunity to glance around the room. The walls were lined with black shelves holding a curated collection of awards, framed magazine covers, and bound portfolios. Every object seemed to scream success, as if Giselle’s achievements had been distilled into physical form.

When Giselle finally looked up, Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. The CEO’s almond-shaped eyes were sharp and assessing, like she was dissecting Y/N with a single glance.

For a moment, Y/N felt like an open book under that gaze, every secret and insecurity laid bare. The weight of it was suffocating, but she forced herself to meet Giselle’s eyes, refusing to shrink under the scrutiny.

“I assume you’re wondering why I called you here,” Giselle said, leaning back in her chair. Her tone was calm but carried the faintest hint of impatience.

Y/N nodded quickly.

Giselle’s perfectly manicured hand gestured toward a sleek black folder resting on the desk, though she didn’t open it yet. “I’ve reviewed your file, Miss Y/N. You have an impressive work ethic. Resourceful. Determined. Someone who doesn’t back down when faced with challenges.”

Y/N blinked, unsure whether Giselle was complimenting her or simply stating facts. Her file? She’d almost forgotten she’d even applied for a position as an assistant in the accounting department months ago, an opportunity that had seemed impossible even then.

“I have an opportunity for you,” Giselle said, her voice deliberate, as though testing Y/N’s reaction. “But before I explain further, I need to know one thing. How far are you willing to go to help your family?”

The question hit like a thunderclap. Y/N’s lips parted instinctively, but no sound followed. Her breath caught in her chest, her pulse roaring in her ears as her thoughts spiraled.

Why was Giselle asking something so personal? How much did she know about Y/N’s situation?

Giselle’s gaze didn’t waver, her expression unrelenting. The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken tension.

Y/N’s fingers trembled slightly as they curled into her lap. She wanted to ask what Giselle meant, to demand clarification, but the words never came. They never could. Instead, she lifted her head, her eyes locking onto Giselle’s with a quiet intensity.

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she inhaled slowly, trying to project steadiness. Her gaze was resolute, though her chest tightened with fear, she refused to look away. If Giselle wanted to test her resolve, she would show it, even if only through the unwavering determination in her expression.

For a fleeting moment, something flickered in Giselle’s eyes, curiosity, perhaps, or the faintest glimmer of approval, but it was gone almost as quickly as it had appeared.

Giselle didn’t wait for a response. She leaned forward slightly, her fingers brushing the edges of the black folder on her desk.

“Your father left you and your family in an unfortunate position,” she said, her tone clinical, devoid of any trace of empathy. “The debts he accrued are substantial, and your current situation offers little opportunity to escape them. Correct?”

Y/N flinched at the bluntness, her chest tightening as though someone had reached in and exposed every hidden part of her life. She hesitated, her fingers twitching toward the phone in her lap. Finally, she picked it up, her movements deliberate, and began typing.

“Yes.”

She held up the screen for Giselle to see. The stark simplicity of the word felt both shameful and raw.

Giselle’s gaze flicked to the phone, her expression remaining unreadable. She gave the faintest nod of acknowledgment before continuing.

“I’m offering you a way out,” Giselle said, folding her hands neatly on the desk. “But it requires your cooperation and your discretion.”

Y/N blinked, her curiosity piqued despite the knot of unease tightening in her stomach. She typed quickly, her fingers trembling slightly.

“What kind of cooperation?”

The corner of Giselle’s lips curved into a faint, humorless smile. “I need a fiancée.”

Y/N froze, her eyes widening. For a moment, she was sure she’d misread the words that had just left Giselle’s mouth. Her thumbs hovered over the keyboard, uncertain what to say. Finally, she typed.

“A fiancée?”

“Yes,” Giselle said, her tone as even and detached as if she were discussing a routine business transaction. She leaned back in her chair, exuding an air of unshakable confidence. “My reputation has... complications. Certain people perceive me as cold, unapproachable. The board at Lueur, with whom I am negotiating a highly lucrative partnership, values the appearance of stability and warmth in their collaborators. I need to project that image.”

Y/N stared at her, stunned. Her fingers moved instinctively, typing out the only question that made sense.

“Why me?”

“You,” Giselle said, her sharp gaze locking onto Y/N’s, “are the perfect candidate. Young, vibrant, and unknown to the media.”

Y/N’s stomach twisted as she read Giselle’s words. Her mind raced, struggling to process the sheer absurdity of the situation. She typed slowly this time, her hands shaking.

“I don’t understand. I’m just an applicant. Why would you choose me?”

Giselle’s lips pressed into a thin line. For a moment, she appeared to weigh her response, then answered with calm certainty. “I’ve done my research. Your background is compelling, your work history suggests you’re resourceful and adaptable and most importantly, you’re desperate.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, her chest tightening at the final word. She lowered her phone slightly, breaking eye contact for the first time.

“You have no other options, Miss Y/N,” Giselle said, her voice firm but not unkind. “This arrangement would benefit both of us. You’ll help me secure the partnership with Lueur, and in return, I will pay you enough to clear your family’s debts entirely and provide a stable future for yourself and your family.”

Y/N hesitated, her mind a whirlwind of emotions. Humiliation, anger, and a flicker of reluctant hope. She stared at her phone, her vision blurring slightly. With trembling fingers, she typed.

“And if I say no?”

Giselle’s expression didn’t waver. “Then you walk out of this office, and we go our separate ways. But consider this carefully, opportunities like this are rare, and for someone in your position, it could mean the difference between struggling for decades or starting over.”

Y/N stared at the words on her screen, her heart pounding. Giselle’s words weren’t a threat, they were a calculated statement of fact.

This wasn’t a choice. Not really.

Giselle leaned back in her chair, her sharp gaze never leaving Y/N, and slid the black folder across the desk with a single, precise motion. The faint sound of the leather cover gliding against the polished wood echoed in the otherwise silent room.

Y/N hesitated, her fingers hovering over the edge of the folder. Slowly, she reached out and pulled it closer, her heart pounding as she flipped it open.

Inside, the contract was laid out in meticulous detail. The dense paragraphs of legal jargon were daunting, and Y/N’s eyes flitted over the page, struggling to focus. Certain phrases stood out like beacons, each one hitting her like a punch to the chest.

“Exclusive agreement.”“Media appearances required.”“Strict confidentiality.”

Her throat tightened as the magnitude of the arrangement settled over her like a heavy fog. This wasn’t just a deal, it was a meticulously crafted performance, with no room for mistakes.

“This isn’t a charity, Miss Y/N,” Giselle’s voice cut through the silence like a blade. Her tone was firm, but there was a hint of expectation, as if she were testing how Y/N would respond.

Y/N glanced up, her fingers still clutching the edges of the folder. Her mind swirled with questions, fears, and doubts, but she forced herself to focus. Taking a deep breath, she picked up her phone and typed quickly before turning the screen toward Giselle.

“What exactly do you expect from me?”

Giselle’s gaze flicked to the screen, and a faint, almost imperceptible smirk curved her lips. “Professionalism,” she said. “You will follow my instructions, attend events as required, and present yourself as a devoted partner. In public, we will be inseparable. In private, however, we will remain strictly separate.”

Y/N’s fingers flew across the screen again, her anxiety spilling into her typed words.

“And if I mess up?”

The question hung in the air, and Y/N watched as Giselle’s expression hardened slightly. The CEO leaned forward, resting her elbows on the desk, her fingers steepled in front of her.

“Then the deal is off,” Giselle said, her voice cold and unwavering. “And you’re on your own.”

Y/N’s stomach twisted at the bluntness of the ultimatum. She tightened her grip on her phone, her chest tightening as the enormity of the situation loomed over her. She quickly typed another message, her hands trembling slightly as she showed the screen to Giselle.

“You mean... everything ends? No payment?”

Giselle nodded once, her expression unchanging. “Exactly. This is a transaction, Miss Y/N, not a handout. If you fail to meet the expectations outlined in that contract, there will be no second chances.”

The weight of those words settled over Y/N like a lead blanket, heavy and suffocating. Her eyes dropped to the folder again, scanning the tightly packed lines of text that seemed to stretch endlessly.

She hesitated before typing another question, her fingers pressing against the screen more forcefully now.

“What happens if someone finds out this is fake?”

Giselle’s gaze sharpened, and for the first time, her calm exterior seemed to harden further. “They won’t,” she said simply, the steel in her voice leaving no room for doubt. “As long as you adhere to the terms of the agreement, no one will suspect a thing. I’ve accounted for every possible variable. Any leaks or suspicions will only arise from carelessness, yours, specifically.”

The words sent a chill through Y/N, but she refused to look away. Her fingers hovered over her phone as she considered her next move. Every logical part of her told her to walk away, that this was far too risky, far too overwhelming. But the memory of her family’s desperate situation, the crushing weight of her father’s debts, made her stay rooted in place.

She swallowed hard, then typed a final message.

“What happens if I succeed?”

Giselle’s expression softened, just slightly. “If you succeed, your debts are gone. You’ll have enough money to start over, far away from whatever struggles brought you here. And,” she added, her tone shifting to something almost imperceptibly lighter, “you’ll have the satisfaction of knowing you helped secure one of the most important deals in this company’s history.”

Y/N read and reread the words on her screen, her chest tightening. The stakes were high, terrifyingly so, but so was the reward. She could picture her family, free from the weight of her father’s mistakes, finally able to move forward.

After what felt like an eternity, Y/N stared down at the open folder before her. The dense, unyielding text seemed to blur as the enormity of what she was about to do settled over her. Her hand hovered over the pen resting neatly beside the folder, trembling with hesitation.

Her thoughts raced. Signing this contract would bind her to a life she couldn’t fully comprehend, a world she wasn’t prepared for. But walking away wasn’t an option, not with her family depending on her.

Y/N picked up her phone and typed a message, her fingers moving slower than usual as doubt gnawed at her resolve. She turned the screen toward Giselle, who watched her with patient intensity.

“What if I change my mind later?”

Giselle’s sharp eyes flicked to the screen. For a moment, her expression softened, not with kindness, but with something close to understanding. “Then I suggest you don’t sign,” she said, her voice calm but resolute. “Once you commit, there’s no room for second guessing.”

Y/N swallowed hard, the answer hitting her like a stone. Giselle’s unyielding certainty was both intimidating and strangely reassuring. This was a woman who never faltered, who didn’t allow for failure.

Her hand tightened around the pen. She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling as she steadied herself. Slowly, deliberately, she lowered the pen to the page and began to sign her name.

Each stroke of ink felt heavier than the last, like an invisible weight pressing against her hand. Her name, once complete, seemed foreign and final. This was it, the moment that changed everything.

When she finished, Y/N set the pen down carefully, the faint click of metal against wood echoing louder than it should have. She slid the folder back across the desk, taking one copy of the contract for herself and tucking it neatly into her bag, her eyes darting up to meet Giselle’s.

Giselle picked it up without a word, her fingers flipping through the pages with practiced efficiency. Her sharp gaze scanned the document, ensuring every detail was in place. Finally, she closed the folder and set it aside.

“Welcome to your new life, Miss Y/N,” Giselle said, extending her hand.

Y/N hesitated, staring at the outstretched hand. She’d expected this moment to feel more... transactional, but now that it was here, the reality of what she’d agreed to seemed overwhelming. Slowly, she reached out, her hand meeting Giselle’s.

Giselle’s grip was firm, her palm cool and steady. There was no warmth, no reassurance, just the unspoken promise of professionalism.

Releasing her hand, Giselle leaned back in her chair, her expression unreadable. As Y/N stood, clutching her phone tightly, Giselle’s voice stopped her just as she reached the door.

“Remember,” she said, her tone low but resolute, “this is business. Nothing more.”

Y/N froze for a heartbeat, then nodded.

The glass doors closed behind her with a soft click, sealing her into a world she wasn’t sure she could navigate. The quiet hum of the floor seemed louder now, the weight of her decision pressing down on her chest.

As she stepped into the elevator, her reflection stared back at her in the polished steel walls, unsure, but resolute.

This was her choice. There was no turning back now.

The elevator doors opened with a soft chime, and after the short walk Y/N stepped out into the bustling street. The late afternoon sunlight stretched across the buildings, painting the city in hues of amber and gold. Pedestrians moved around her in a blur, business people rushing to catch cabs, couples strolling hand in hand, and tourists snapping pictures of the skyline.

But Y/N barely noticed any of it. Her thoughts weighed her down, each step feeling heavier than the last as she weaved through the crowd.

The weight of the signed contract in her bag felt almost tangible, like an anchor tethered to her future. Her grip tightened around the leather strap of her bag, so firm that her knuckles turned white. She had done it. She had agreed to step into a world she barely understood, tethering herself to a woman who felt as untouchable as the city’s towering skyscrapers.

Giselle’s words echoed in her mind, cool and precise, as if they had been carved into stone.

"Welcome to your new life."

Her new life. Was it really hers?

She felt a pang of uncertainty, the same pang that had risen in her chest as she’d signed her name on the dotted line. It hadn’t felt like liberation, it had felt like a pact with something she couldn’t quite define.

Y/N slowed her pace as she passed the entrance to a quiet park, the bustling noise of the city receding like a distant hum. The shade of a row of oak trees stretched across the grass, offering a temporary reprieve from the chaos of the world outside.

Her feet carried her to an empty bench near a fountain, its soft trickling water providing a soothing contrast to the relentless rhythm of her thoughts. She sank down slowly, her shoulders sagging under the invisible weight she carried. The smell of freshly cut grass filled the air, but it did nothing to lift the heaviness settling in her chest.

Y/N pulled her phone from her bag and stared at the blank screen. Her fingers hovered over the device, poised to type something into the notes app, but no words came. She didn’t know what to say, to herself, to the universe, to anyone.

The screen dimmed, and Y/N let the phone drop into her lap with a soft thud. She leaned back against the bench, her head tilting toward the sky. The golden light filtered through the leaves above, dappling her face with shadows and warmth, but it couldn’t reach the chill that gripped her heart.

Her breathing slowed, and with the stillness came the memories, unbidden and relentless, rising to the surface like ghosts she could no longer keep buried.

She was ten years old the last time she heard her father’s voice. It was a warm evening, much like this one, when she’d sat cross legged on the thick carpet of his study, her fingers trailing absently over the edges of a well worn storybook. The smell of his cologne, cedarwood and something faintly spicy, lingered in the air, mingling with the faint scent of the leather bound books that lined the shelves.

His desk, usually an organized chaos of papers and trinkets, was unusually cluttered that night. Contracts, ledgers, and letters spilled across the dark oak surface, the symbols of a crumbling empire he had worked so tirelessly to build.

Her father had always been her hero. His laughter had a way of filling every corner of the house, and his warmth made even the darkest days feel like they carried a glimmer of hope. But that night, something was different.

His usual smile was absent, replaced by a furrowed brow and a tightness in his jaw that Y/N didn’t fully understand but instinctively feared. His movements were hurried, his hands shaking slightly as he shuffled through the papers in front of him.

“Papa?” she had asked softly, her voice breaking the heavy silence.

He stilled for a moment, his shoulders rising and falling with a deep breath before he turned to her. His eyes, so often kind and full of life were clouded with something she couldn’t name. He crossed the room in three quick strides and knelt in front of her, his large hands gently gripping her small shoulders.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice steady but laced with urgency. “I need you to listen carefully, okay?”

The seriousness in his tone made her heart race. She nodded, her gaze locked on his face.

“No matter what happens, no matter what you see, you have to stay quiet. Do you understand? Don’t make a sound.”

His words wrapped around her like a cage, cold and unyielding. She opened her mouth to ask why, but the look in his eyes stopped her. There was no time for questions, no room for explanations. He pulled her to her feet and led her to the far wall of the study, where a towering bookshelf stood filled with thick tomes and small mementos.

Before she could ask what he was doing, he pressed his hand against the side of the shelf, triggering a soft click. The bookshelf shifted slightly, revealing a narrow doorway. Beyond it was a small, dark room she had never known existed.

Her father knelt again, placing both hands on her shoulders this time. “Stay here, sweetheart,” he whispered. His voice wavered, just for a moment, before he steadied it. “Don’t come out until I tell you. And remember, no sound.”

The fear in his eyes mirrored the growing terror in her chest. She wanted to cling to him, to beg him to stay with her, but he gently pushed her into the hidden space before she could.

“Be brave, Y/N,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. Then he closed the door, sealing her in darkness.

Y/N pressed her hands against the cool walls of the hidden room, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure it would give her away. Through a thin crack in the door, she could see her father return to his desk, his movements quick and tense. He sat down, his back straight as if bracing himself for something.

Minutes later, the front door burst open with a thunderous crash.

Y/N flinched, her hands flying to her mouth to stifle a gasp. Harsh voices filled the air, angry and unfamiliar. Men in dark suits stormed into the study, their faces obscured by the dim light.

She watched as her father rose to meet them, his posture firm despite the chaos that followed. The men surrounded him, their movements calculated and menacing.

“You know why we’re here,” one of them said, his voice cold and cutting.

Her father’s voice was calm but resolute, though Y/N couldn’t make out every word. She caught fragments “not fair,” “family,” “too far” but the argument was heated, the tension in the room palpable.

One of the men slammed his hand against the desk, making Y/N jump. Her father stood his ground, his expression unreadable.

The man’s voice rose, sharp and angry. “You should have kept your mouth shut.”

There was a flash of movement, something metallic glinting in the dim light.

Then came the deafening crack of a gunshot.

Y/N froze, her breath catching in her throat as her father’s body crumpled to the floor. Time seemed to stop. The dark pool spreading beneath him was all she could see, staining the polished wood of the study.

Her heart felt like it would burst as she clamped her hands over her mouth, her small frame trembling violently. Tears streamed down her face, hot and endless, but she didn’t dare make a sound. Her father’s warning echoed in her mind like a mantra. Don’t make a sound. Don’t make a sound.

The men stood over his lifeless body for a moment before one of them spat something cruel under his breath. Then, as quickly as they had come, they were gone, their heavy footsteps retreating into silence.

When the house finally fell quiet, Y/N stayed frozen in the hidden room, too terrified to move. It felt like hours before she found the courage to push the door open.

The study was eerily still, the papers on her father’s desk fluttering softly in the breeze from an open window. She stumbled toward his body, her legs shaking so badly she nearly fell.

“Papa?” she whispered, her voice cracking. Her small hands reached out to him, shaking as they pressed against his arm. “Papa, wake up.”

But he didn’t move. He didn’t speak. The warmth she had always associated with him was gone, replaced by a cold, lifeless shell.

The weight of her grief was unbearable, suffocating her as she knelt beside him, sobbing silently. At that moment, something inside her broke.

From that day on, Y/N never spoke again.

The official story was that her father had taken his own life after his company went bankrupt. The newspapers were ruthless, painting him as a failure who had crumbled under the weight of his mistakes. The debts, they said, had been too much for him to bear.

The truth, however, was far darker. Y/N had tried to tell someone, anyone. In the days that followed the horrific night in the study, she had opened her mouth countless times, desperate to describe the men who had invaded their home, to explain how they had taken her father’s life.

But every time, the words got stuck.

Her throat would tighten painfully, and the memory of her father’s lifeless body would crash over her like a wave, pulling her under. The gunshot, the men’s cold voices, the dark pool of blood, it all came back too vividly, paralyzing her. No matter how much she wanted to scream the truth, her voice refused to cooperate.

At first, her mother didn’t seem to notice. She was too consumed by her own grief and the weight of what had been left behind. Lawyers had come and gone, each one bearing bad news. The company her father had built was gone, swallowed up by his debts, leaving nothing but bills they couldn’t pay and creditors demanding what was owed.

Y/N had tried to help, using the scraps of courage she had left to write down the truth in shaky handwriting. But when she’d handed the paper to her mother, her hands trembling, her mother had barely glanced at it.

“Not now, Y/N,” her mother had said softly, her voice heavy with exhaustion. She’d set the note aside and never brought it up again.

Y/N had crumpled the paper in her hands, the rejection stinging more than she expected.

Days turned into weeks, and Y/N stopped trying to speak altogether. What was the point? Every attempt ended the same way, with her throat closing up, her heart pounding, and tears burning her eyes. The trauma sat in her chest like a stone, making it hard to breathe, let alone speak.

At school, teachers and classmates would ask her questions, their faces twisting with confusion when she wouldn’t respond.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” “Why won’t you talk?”

The questions only made it worse. She wanted to answer, wanted to explain, but her voice was gone. Instead, she would shake her head and look away, her cheeks burning with shame.

Her teachers contacted her mother, concerned about her silence. But her mother, overwhelmed with grief and the mounting debt, had little energy to address the issue. “She’s going through a lot right now,” her mother had said. “She’ll speak when she’s ready.”

But Y/N wasn’t sure she ever would.

Their once beautiful home, with its sprawling garden and cozy rooms, was sold within months of her father’s death. The furniture went next, piece by piece, until their lives were stripped down to the bare essentials.

They moved into a cramped apartment in a part of town Y/N had never visited before. The walls were thin, the pipes rattled when the water ran, and the single window in the living room overlooked an alleyway filled with dumpsters. It was a far cry from the life they’d known, but her mother said it was all they could afford.

Y/N had watched as the stress wore her mother down, the vibrant woman reduced to a shadow of herself. Lines of worry etched themselves into her face, and her shoulders seemed permanently hunched from the weight she carried.

Y/N hated seeing her mother like that. Hated the hopelessness that seemed to hang over their tiny apartment like a storm cloud.

It was then, at the age of ten, that Y/N made a promise to herself. She would do whatever it took to help her family.

For months, Y/N relied on gestures and written notes to communicate. She would scribble messages on scraps of paper or point to things when she needed something. It was clumsy and frustrating, and more often than not, people misunderstood her.

One day, during a particularly frustrating moment at school, her teacher handed her a flyer.

“Have you thought about learning sign language?” the teacher had asked gently, her voice free of judgment.

Y/N had stared at the flyer for a long moment before taking it. She wasn’t sure if it would work, but it was worth a try.

The next weekend, her mother took her to her first sign language class at a community center downtown. Y/N felt out of place at first, surrounded by people of all ages, each with their own reasons for learning. But as the instructor demonstrated simple signs and encouraged them to practice, something shifted.

First time in months, Y/N felt like she had a voice again.

She practiced obsessively, her fingers fumbling at first but growing more confident with time. She learned to sign her name, simple phrases, and eventually, full sentences. The fluid motions of her hands became second nature, and with every new sign she mastered, she felt a little piece of herself returning.

Sign language became her lifeline, a way to express herself without the fear that had stolen her voice. It wasn’t perfect, many people didn’t understand it, and she still relied on her phone or written notes in those cases, but it was hers.

As she grew older, Y/N poured herself into her studies. She took on part time jobs after school, working long hours at diners, grocery stores, and anywhere else that would hire her. Every penny she earned went toward the family’s expenses or into a savings jar she kept hidden under her bed.

But no matter how hard she worked, the debt loomed over them, a constant reminder of her father’s death and the men who had taken everything from them.

Y/N refused to let it break her. She had resolved, then and there, that she would claw her way out of the darkness, no matter what it took. For her mother, for her siblings, and for herself.

She just needed an opportunity.

Y/N stared down at her phone, the sleek black screen reflecting her tired eyes and the faint streaks of sunlight filtering through the trees. Her thumb brushed against the edge of the device, but she didn’t unlock it yet. For a moment, the world around her blurred, the muted chatter of children playing in the park, the distant hum of traffic, the rustling of leaves in the soft breeze. None of it registered.

Her thoughts were louder than any of it.

She had signed the contract.

The realization settled over her. She had sealed her fate, tethering herself to a woman whose world was as cold as the steel skyscrapers that loomed over the city. She had done it not for herself, but for them, for her family.

Her mother’s face floated to the forefront of her mind, etched with exhaustion from years of carrying a burden she was never meant to bear alone. Y/N remembered the way her mother used to smile, bright and unrestrained, a beacon of warmth in their home. But over the years, that smile had become rare, a faint shadow of what it once was. Y/N wanted to bring it back.

Then there were her younger siblings, still so full of life, so full of hope. She thought of her sister sketching dresses at the kitchen table with crayons, dreaming of becoming a designer. She thought of her brother, meticulously building castles out of old shoeboxes, telling anyone who would listen that one day he’d be an architect.

They deserved to dream.

Sliding her thumb across the screen, Y/N opened her notes app and stared at the blank space. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, hesitating for a fraction of a second before she began to type.

“I’ll make this work.”

She stared at the sentence, her lips pressing into a thin line. The words weren’t just a promise, they were a lifeline, a tether to something stronger than her fear or doubt. They were a reminder of why she couldn’t fail.

Y/N’s chest rose and fell with a slow, deliberate breath. Her fingers brushed across the screen again, and for a fleeting moment, she thought about typing something more. Something about the uncertainty she felt, or the weight of the decision she had made.

But no. This was enough.

Sliding the phone back into her bag, Y/N stood. Her legs felt unsteady at first, like a newborn fawn’s, but she squared her shoulders and steadied herself. She couldn’t afford to falter now.

She cast one last glance at the park around her. A couple laughed as they walked hand in hand, their carefree joy like a far off memory. A boy chased after a kite, his delighted shouts rising above the rustle of the breeze. For a moment, she let herself imagine a life where she didn’t have to bear the weight of the world on her shoulders.

But that wasn’t her reality.

Giselle’s world was cold and unyielding, a place where people were assets and trust was a rare commodity. Y/N knew that stepping into that world meant losing pieces of herself, her warmth, her softness, maybe even her hope.

But it was also her chance to escape the shadow of her past.

For her family, she would endure anything.

With that thought anchoring her, she turned on her heel and walked away, the echoes of her determination carrying her forward.

[rose24207]

Mafia Lando. 👌😪

Mafia lando falling for maid reader hard, and lando tells her things like she won't have to work like a maid anymore, they can travel together, but the one thing is that they can be together. But the reader overhears the guards talking about her and lando and how he will find someone else who is newer and has a higher paying job. The reader sad over this tells lando they have to stop whatever they have going on, making him mad. Lando wanted to know what made the reader drive away from him (and also hated seeing her sad and not knowing what happened). He talked to the other maids who told him what they heard the guards talking about. Making him even more madder. Happy ending. Sorry it's long.

By my side

Summary: Mafia boss Lando Norris fights to prove his love to his maid after cruel gossip causes her to doubt their relationship, ultimately winning her trust and heart.

Genre: Mafia!Lando

TW: Mafia

A/N: There you go!! I hope you like it! Please let me know!! English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Masterlist

Lando Norris wasn’t used to chasing after things—or people. As the head of one of the most influential mafia families, everything in his life came easily. Wealth, power, respect… even fear. People bent to his will with a single glance, and rarely did anyone question his authority.

But you? You were a different story.

You’d entered his life as one of the maids in his sprawling estate, a quiet, diligent presence who didn’t seek attention. You moved silently through the halls, working tirelessly, barely looking at him when he walked past. And that was what caught his eye. You weren’t afraid of him, but you didn’t try to impress him either. You were just… you.

At first, Lando tried to ignore the pull you had on him. But over time, he found himself lingering in rooms he knew you’d be cleaning, striking up small conversations, and watching the way your eyes sparkled when you spoke about something you loved. He knew he was falling hard when he found himself smiling after a simple exchange with you.

And so, he started pursuing you, though his methods were far from subtle. Lavish gifts, lingering touches, and promises of a life far beyond the confines of the estate.

“You won’t have to work like this anymore,” he’d whispered one night as he caught you dusting the grand piano. His voice was low, intimate, and sent shivers down your spine. “We could travel, go anywhere you want. The only thing I want is you by my side.”

Your heart ached at his words, but you reminded yourself who he was. A man with power and a life far removed from your own. Could someone like him truly want someone like you? You’d given in, though, allowing yourself the smallest hope that maybe, just maybe, his feelings were genuine.

But hope is a fragile thing.

One afternoon, you were carrying linens down the corridor when you overheard two of Lando’s guards talking near the back entrance. Their voices were low but clear.

“Can’t believe the boss is wasting his time with her,” one scoffed. “She’s just a maid. He’ll get bored soon enough, find someone with a bit more status.”

The other chuckled. “Yeah, someone who can actually fit into his world. This thing with her? It’s just a phase.”

Their words hit you like a punch to the gut. You stood frozen, the linens slipping from your hands as your mind raced. A phase. Was that all you were to him?

You barely made it through the rest of the day, and when Lando sought you out that evening, his usual smirk in place, you couldn’t meet his gaze.

“Hey,” he said softly, his hand reaching for yours. “You’ve been quiet today. Something wrong?”

You pulled your hand away, the action causing his brows to furrow. “Lando… I think we need to stop whatever this is.”

His entire body tensed. “What?”

“It’s not… It’s not right. I can’t keep doing this.”

“Doing what?” His voice was sharp now, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “You don’t want to be with me anymore? Why? What happened?”

You shook your head, your throat tight as you tried to keep the tears at bay. “It’s just better this way.”

Lando wasn’t the type to let things go, and your vague response only fueled his anger. He hated seeing you like this—sad, distant, and unwilling to tell him why. He spent the next day interrogating everyone in the house, determined to figure out what had changed.

It was one of the older maids who finally told him about the guards’ conversation. Lando’s jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists as he listened.

“They said what?” His voice was low, dangerous, a tone that sent shivers down the maid’s spine.

“They didn’t mean for her to hear,” she added quickly, trying to calm him. “But I think it really hurt her.”

Lando stormed off, his mind racing. The thought of you doubting him, doubting his feelings, made his chest ache. He found you in the garden later that evening, sitting on a bench with your arms wrapped around yourself.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he demanded, his voice softer than you expected.

You looked up, startled by his sudden appearance. “Tell you what?”

“What you heard. What those idiots said.”

Your lips parted in surprise, but no words came out.

“Do you really think I’d waste my time on something that doesn’t matter to me?” he asked, stepping closer. “Do you think I’d pour my heart out to you if I didn’t mean every damn word?”

“But they said—”

“I don’t care what they said,” he interrupted, his eyes blazing. “They don’t know me. They don’t know how I feel about you.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, and Lando dropped to his knees in front of you, taking your hands in his.

“You’re not a phase, and you’re not replaceable,” he said firmly. “You’re everything. And if you’ll let me, I’ll spend the rest of my life proving that to you.”

You stared at him, his words sinking in. The raw vulnerability in his expression made your heart ache, and for the first time, you allowed yourself to believe him.

“Okay,” you whispered, your voice shaky.

“Okay?” he repeated, hope flickering in his eyes.

You nodded, a small smile breaking through your tears. “Okay.”

Lando exhaled in relief, pulling you into his arms and holding you tightly. “You’re mine,” he murmured against your hair. “And I’m never letting you go.”

For the first time in days, you felt at peace. Maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something real.

Thank you for reading!

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Snake dance for emperors

Emperor Geta/Caracalla x fem!reader

warning : dysfunctional family, tried comfort (as much as this is possible with these two), kissing, use of dagger, smutish, some touching, written before the movie comes out characters may be different at the end

summary : With the Colosseum, other types of entertainment come to the Empire of Rome. Not only acrobats and actors but also animal tamers and especially the agile snake dancer with cobras slithering along her body caught the attention of the two most powerful men in the world. So what happens when you're in a room with poisonous animals, pressure to perform and two emperors?

info : I just love them can't wait to see how they are in the movie. I'm not fully satisfied, it was supposed to be something else (more smut) but now it is what it is I hope you like it anyway:)

masterlist

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Rome, the empire of history past versus present and future. A place of aspiration, arts and philosophers who passed on their knowledge to interested minds.

Violence and entertainment by gladiators in the Coloseum and the home of two young men who could have taken over the world with laurel wreaths on their heads.

The money practically clung to their bodies no matter where they went it was the finest fabrics and colors of dye that surrounded them both, the white face makeup and the dark, mineral-infused coat around their eyes darker protruding, light hair divine as the sun, making the two emperor brothers recognizable everywhere.

With the triumph and amusement in the Colosseum, the rich and influential men also met at parties organized by the elite. Politicians, philosophers, merchants and scalpers as well as military generals could all be found there... but besides the elite there was also the untrhlatung in the form of fire-breathers, exotic animals and songs.

Showmen with magnificent costumes or the snake woman surrounded by flowers while on her light clad body the dark snakes curled along, beautiful but dangerous animals taken from the straw woven baskets on her hand along her arms skillful fingers and soft sounds of her voice with inviting and engaging vibrations of her body.

The small beads and stones on her tiny outfit covered her most necessary parts as the silk clung to her body and the animals moved across it. ,,I wonder what will happen if they all bite her," the elder mumbled to his brother, who shook his head in amusement at the comment, a hum of laughter leaving his lips, and took another sip of wine.

Geta hardly liked the party at first, but the younger knew that it was much more important to be well received not only by the senate but also by the other pillars of the empire.

They might be at the top, but without merchants, influential philosophers or even the slave traders, Rome would lack important things. ,,It would be amusing for a moment...but hardly any different than in the Colosseum," he replied briefly, not giving his advisor a glance but seeing that Caracalla's smile did not fade.

Despite the fact that he was older by a year, he seemed to have little interest in all of this, only the prospect of perhaps a little mischief or amusement had brought him out next to his brother.

So they found themselves sitting here for a few minutes, a little apart from the large tables and round corners in the rooms with the exotic pretty things from displays of dead things and old weapons to her.

A young woman arrived in Rome with one of the many circus wagons that presented themselves in different cities and entertained the people with talent for special normal amusement and no murder and killing.

She had known that the normal shows were as beautiful as they were and she always smiled when children were fascinated watching the animals and she could teach them something, so she knew how serious it was when it came to such parties, ,,The Imperial Brothers, the elite will be there...one mistake and we are next" were the words of her boss who knew that they could use any coins and let her go.

So here she was, dancing around at first, talking about the artifacts, but as soon as the torches announced the night and cast old shadows, she resumed her role as a sanke dancer and took her place.

At first, some stopped to look at her body and clothes until they were fascinated by the snake, paying attention to the connection between her and the animals, sometimes throwing flowers and coins to her for the extra money it was worth to buy new fabric.

Some even talked to her about her interest in the animals, though most of the questions were about ulterior motives for other services she no longer offered, and perhaps she kept the snakes a little too far away from her to keep the men at a distance.

She would only be here for a few more hours until she was picked up, until she saw the gold, until she saw the two wreaths, until she saw the golden hair, until she heard the curtains being drawn and she was alone with the two emperors.

She heard them talking, and in between the full words she saw their gazes, pairs of eyes looking at her as if she were long dead or undressed, or perhaps both. ,,As sorry as I am, my time here is almost at an end my Emperors" she dared to raise her voice interrupting the quiet conversation and words to the animals and relaxed slightly hoping they had drank enough to just leave, she felt her own exhaustion her feet aching from standing so much.

The moon was high in the sky, providing light in the great city alongside the fires of torches and lanterns of oil but her hopes were dashed when she saw the playfully indignant look on Caracalla's face as he tilted his head, ,,But we are still here and not satisfied," he protested, his fingers closing tightly around the goblet in which the wine floated.

Even Geta, who didn't like the party, apparently wanted relief and a reward for having to do this to, only made an almost inviting gesture, ,,I want to see her," he said and she didn't know if he meant her first or her snakes.

Stifling a sigh, she got off her little stage and approached them slowly and carefully. She had always had her snakes under control but now one mistake and they would all hang.

Geta's eyes looked into hers for a moment, not dismissively but rather challengingly, he let his gaze wander over her body for a moment, lingering on her chest, which was recognizable despite the light fabric, before he held out his hand and she offered him a middle part of the snake to stroke.

The three of them knew very well that she could not do anything except follow orders. Geta could take her here and now he could just as well have left her to his brother who could probably still put on an amusing show. But this narrow game between emperors, a powerless victim and deadly nature was much more amusing.

Almost imperceptibly, his lips curled into a smile, ,,Pretty animals, dangerous and deadly like their owner, aren't they brother?" he asked, turning his gaze to Caracalla, who was watching the whole thing with a broad smile, but his fingers were playing with his dagger, the blade moving slowly towards her.

He seemed to be only heartbeats away from carving her skin with the tip, his desire to see the blood as in the arena never seemed satisfied, ,,If the emperors allow it, will you hold her?" she asked quickly when Caracalla could finally cut her and she knelt down in front of the two of them, seeing the brief imperceptible twitching of the fingers that would not only have liked to lie on the snakes, if the knife had gone a little further up her skin, the fabric of her scanty top would have been torn apart.

Fingers that had already caressed his middle, his gasping giggles and the slight moans that came from her dancing movements, the fantasy of the gods and her being.

Sometimes more, sometimes less obvious, but he saw that she saw it. It amused him. Both brothers seemed to be turned on by the power of being able to take whatever they wanted…but they were merciful for the moment.

Before even Geta smiled at the gesture, crediting her for her courage in the face of two men who could mean her end at any time, she gave the first snake to Geta and took his hands in hers, ,,Calmly and slowly it will not bite you as long as you respect its power, my Emperor," she said, feeling his gaze on her as she slid one of the animals onto his arm and he looked at it for a moment.

,,You'll always kneel before us at your next performance," he murmured casually as if it were a thought that had just come to him, kneeling and crawling naked like a whore instead of leaving her the last dignity was the appropriate thing to do in his eyes.

,,And amuse us," Caracalla added and she found the cool point of the dagger sharp under her chin again, the older one forcing her to give him attention like a child who didn't get sweet honey from his mother, disgustingly foolish but dangerous, but Geta made no move to help her. Why, in the end, she was just a dancer, a woman a nobody compared to two emperors.

Slowly guiding the snake that had wrapped itself around her chest onto her hand, she carefully took his free hand in hers, ,,They would smell blood and devotion it would be unwise" she said not warning but rather reminding them that the black cobras were not toys, they were nature, animals that could not and would never be tamed.

The moment like a tension on the battlefield the cobra seemed to wrap itself quickly around Caracalla's neck not tight but the more it tightened despite not being a constrictor it could be dangerous.

The protection of the bond to her only went so far as the snake would obey orders on its own and Caracalla was in danger of becoming another victim. ,,Attention is wrapped around pretty things," she heard Geta say, his own fingers stroking her cheek, leaving her still paused, the cool blade of the dagger still against her neck, the younger emperor moving closer to her.

Once again a difference in power, he could have accepted the death of his brother for her, for her body, for his lust that her lips would probably wrap around his middle.

While it would probably still excite him as his suffocating brother took her cunt, this was just another thought in a moment that had an uncertain end.

Her snake seemingly not bothering him as he caressed her cheek, she smelled the makeup, the wine and the metallic gold and yet she returned the heartfelt kiss as he grabbed her harshly by the neck and pulled her close, she still vaguely heard Caracalla's gasp, which must have reached its amused ecstasy as death robbed her of its air.

She felt the dagger slip only slightly from her neck but that was all she needed to pull away from Geta with a jerk, hearing his annoyed snarl, she let her lips trail over the dagger, seeing the fascination of the two men at what she had done before she put her fingers to the blade.

,,Relax," she murmured before engaging the blond elder in a kiss, hearing the smirk that was stifled, the shake of his head and the laying down of the dagger as the clasp came off his neck after a few moments and she took the cobra back.

The moment between them was the fact of possible death, the lie obviously driven by the challenge, her uncertain determination and the deadly metal.

Taking the snakes back, she felt the burning gaze on her back just as the two emperors seemed to be waiting for a moment, the slight dull closing of the crobe the last bit of composure the two men could muster before they rose from their chairs and she felt their hands on her.

Another night in Rome for the emperors whose night was hardly different from any other, a night she had hoped she would never have to do again....but under the touch of human gods and her fast beating heart, it seemed she would never be able to tame the human snakes and their stifled sounds of pleasure and pain would be heard long into the night through their poison.

She was the first to hear Caracalla's giggle, but when she felt the cool fingers of Getas on her arm, the metal of the rings moving harshly over her skin, he turned her into his arms to engage her in another kiss while his other hand finally came to rest on her breast. He simply tore the fabric off for something else better.

His older brother, however, claimed her other half, his lips, once painted with make-up, had long lost their red and she now felt him press against her, almost obsessively taking her breath before she gasped out, her painful moan drowned in the kiss as Caracallae cut her with the dagger to get the blood.

Caracalla's fangs dug into her skin, his bites hard and sharp as he feasted on every drop of blood, a grotesque contrast to his white make-up. With every thrust, with every lustful sound, with every attempt to resist, Geta seemed to take on her strength, wrapping himself around her, depriving her of all sight, his serpentine body never letting go of her that night. Both had found the perfect prey and would leave nothing of her, for once ensnared, snakes never let go of their prey.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[colourstreakgryffin]

Are your requests open? If so, can you write for yandere Qin Shi Huang with an S/O who's very rebellious and lazy? It's okay if you don't want to 😭 I barely see any Qin Shi Huang fic here.

My requests are definitely open, just slowly getting through everything! But anyway. Yes, I absolutely can since I like Qin too. He’s actually quite the good boy AND he’s hot so golden. We’re an emperor/empress! Damn, I’m jealous!

Qin Shi Huang- My Deadweight

Qin Shi has expectations of you. Just because you’re the new powerful and influential emperor [/] empress of China via your unwanted marriage to him, doesn’t mean that you get to be so… immature and vile in front of his people and in front of Valhalla itself. He is aware that you’re not much of a fan of him but he’s giving you a luxurious life millions dream of without asking for so much from you

Is giving your love and loyalty and passion to him, in exchange for all this, so hard for you? He has learnt that it is clearly is…

He’s displeased, watching sharply and disgusted from behind his white mahogany red-centipede detailed blindfold as you relax on you and his velvety expensive bed whilst shooing off all the palace’s servants to give you privacy… he suspected better from you. Why are you behaving so childish?

Qin Shi genuinely believes that living like a powerful royalty of one of the World’s most mighty countries has gotten to your head and you believe you’re above everything, even the responsibilities and requirements you have as his Emperor [/] Empress. You’re stubbornly disregarding them all to laze around and rest about like a sloth…

The Chinese emperor is outraged you’re daring to behave like this. He spent so much time and resources into kidnapping you, obsessing over you, moving you from your designated living quarters built into the Valhalla to his magnificent palace, to marry you to him and fulfil his intense love for you. Become his and make you his permanently, even through this death battle tournament and here you are, dismissing it all for your own comfort

He won’t let this slide at all. He may love you deeply but he loves you more when you’re not being a disrespectful slacker… and he wants that person back. He’ll get you back, even if he has to use extreme measures

Qin Shi has zero limits on what he’ll do to make sure you’ve been modelled to the most perfect ruler to work together with him to maintain China, do you think he does? He is fully aware that you’ve missed up by being rebellious and selfish like this. And he doesn’t plan to let you stay this way, he needs you better for his beloved nation

Qin Shi’s around the corner of you and his shared suite of a bedroom, thinking. He doesn’t want to hurt you, he’s already quite strained any chance you’ll love him but then again, he’s providing you with the life of a royal. You’re not anywhere near related to a royal family but still, you’re gonna birth him a heir one day and you SHOULD love him for that

Especially for how amazing of a husband he is!

No other man can be a better husband for you so there is no reason you should be a lazy rebellious brat when you’re literally a King [/] Queen. Do not be so greedy, love. He’d let this go if it was only occasional but it’s not, you’re constantly rejecting everything to sleep all day. Pathetic

That is what his twisted lovesick mind tells him. That it’s your fault you’re behaving this way when it’s just your attitude. It’s just who you are, but to Qin Shi, it’s a purposeful stab to him as your husband. That you’re acting out, when you were so obedient and calm only a few days ago, to spite him…

He is just so unhappy… he really suspected better from you and he was hoping you’d stay that timid silent sweetheart from before. That is his favourite version of you, when you do everything for him— but he fails to realise you only behaved that way because you were terrified for your life but you long learned he’d never truly put his hands on you

Your rebellious nature is just apart of you but your laziness, whilst also somewhat natural, is kinda fulled by your depression since being forced in this situation after you had shown respect to Qin Shi passing by him one time in the many halls of Valhalla by helping direct him to the correct Lounge for Einherjar’s champions

Had lead to him stalking you, sending his servants to give you gifts, until it lead up to your kidnapping under the cover of midnight. All because he fell hard for your elegant and witty demeanour, the way you behave in public and he got addicted to it quickly. So much, he ignores Alvitr’s advice altogether

Qin Shi quickly bared a charming smile, he’s such a charismatic comforting figure as the King of Kings he is that he buries away all his inner rage and humiliation so expertly that he seems as if he’s had a absolutely wonderful day. He pretends to walk away from the wall hiding off the open golden-lined door of the bedroom before walking up to it, in order to trick you into thinking he wasn’t listening in

You look up bored and irritated from being so engaged in a fascinating book that you’ve gathered amongst the big nearby bookcase in this big beautiful artistic suite of a bedroom, meeting the hidden eyes of your forced husband. Your finger shining by the opulent gold and diamonds of your earring ring

Qin Shi, radiating elegance and strength effortlessly, strolls over to you with his loving smile. He may be furious at your rebellious lazy demeanour but he can’t help but soften up at how beautiful you are and his extensive possessive obsession flares up almost instantly. He makes it besides the silky thin blanketed clad bed before sitting down on it politely

Speaking up after admiring you openly for a few long seconds with you barely even responding as you’re quite use to him gawking you all the time like you’re the Mona Lisa within a deluxe gallery, he is internally planning on how to properly meld and form you into the correct ruler for his vast territory

His hand reaches over for yours, his middle and ring fingers sheathed in shining golden nailguards, which is slightly sharp so it kinda grazed against your silky soft skin as he grabs your hand in his much bulkier and veiny palm. Showing his love via the intimate connect, feeling your own cute golden dual nailguards on your index and middle fingers

Qin Shi hopes you give him a minute or two of your time to hear him out. He deserves your time as his husband whilst you couldn’t be more excited for him to leave you alone. You never wanted to be bombarded with the duties of being the secondary ruler of fucking China itself… you never asked for this and you know he does not care about your opinion at all. He only cares about himself!

His hand holding yours is uncomfortably tight as his clingy protectiveness is kicking in. He doesn’t want to lose you, he doesn’t want anybody looking at you. You’re his and only his

“Qīn'ài de… I’ve noticed that you’ve been rather unmotivated. Unmotivated to improve for the sake of our empire and I want to fix that issue. C’mon, up you get. Let’s go outside together, let’s talk”

[livingformintyoongi]

Masterlist

-> Welcome to my Masterlist!

Because the previous one felt a bit -too- complicated, I decided to make this new one where everything I've written will appear, here below I'll leave the guide for the genres ^^ (all requests/smut content are in the following link)

-> Key:

♡= Fluff | ♧= Smut | ◇= Angst | ♤= Suggestive | ☆= Crack

SHE'S ALL I WANNA BE (Band!AU) [5.4k] ♡ ◇

>> Part Of BOTN series

-> pt1 / pt2

-Summary: You were Jin's childhood friend, the one who always went to all his bass practices, the one who went to all his mini concerts, the one who tested the songs before he played them live, you were even the first person he ran to tell the news that his band had been dominated to his first award.

The problem with this? You were always just that to Jin, the typical childhood friend he wouldn't give up for anything in the world, but would never see as anything more.

A few months ago Jin started dating yet another girl, a certain Yeji, whom he had met in college.

You were starting to feel how awful it was to be just another friend, and you wanted to give it your last try before giving up forever with Jin and moving on with your life.

SOMEBODY I F*CKED ONCE (Band!AU) ♧ ♡

>> Part Of BOTN series

-> pt1

-> Drabbles: How did they meet? / ...

-> Summary: You had been in a fully sexual relationship with Yoongi for over 5 years. Yes, you went out on the occasional date in secret, but nothing out of the ordinary, nothing that would make the public think you were a couple, or sex partners.

You had never had a problem with this, until little by little you noticed how you started to feel things for him that definitely had nothing to do with your fully sexual relationship, so you did what you did best.

You ran away.

WHEN THE LIGHTS GO OUT (Horror!AU)

-> pt1 / pt2

-> Summary: The Han family has always been one of the most powerful and influential families in South Korea. They owned three of the most important companies in the country, in addition to the many others with which they had agreements and investments.

They were always known for their impeccable image, one that, in all the years they had been in the market, had never been tarnished.

Or at least it was until, on his 57th birthday, Mr. Han's body was found in his office. A gunshot to the head had caused his instant death.

A total of seven officers were assigned to handle the case, and absolutely none of them expected to encounter a family with such a dark and depraved background as the Han's.

YOU ARE IN LOVE (Band!AU) ◇ ♡

>> Part Of BOTN series

-> pt1

-> Summary: You met Hoseok in a dance class you had during your last years in college. The two of you hit it off perfectly and decided to stay in touch.

You talked to him when he won his first award, he talked to you when he heard you got a permanent contract at your current company. You called him when you found out he had landed a fairly well known girlfriend in the middle, he congratulated you on finding your fiancé.

Now, 2 years after that, you had no idea how to tell him that your husband and his fiancée were fucking in your bed.

ONE DAY (Band!AU) ♡

>> Part Of BOTN series

-> pt1

-> Summary: You were Bring On The Night's manager since their debut. You had taken good care of them, always tried to give them a reasonable schedule, always talked to interviewers before interviews, always tried to keep them safe without asking for anything in return. That's exactly what made Namjoon fall at your feet.

From the beginning he always had eyes for you, he always drowned in his feelings thinking about how annoying it might be for you to stay on the job knowing that he had feelings for you.

However, this same attitude not only attracted to him, but to other guys who worked in the same industry. It was this very thing that made Namjoon decide to fight for you, even if it would destroy your working relationship and friendship.

WE CAN'T BE FRIENDS (Band!AU) ♧ ♡ ◇

>> Part Of BOTN series

-> pt1

-> Summary: You were Jimin's girlfriend during his pre-debut era. You would go to support him at practice, bring him food, water, sometimes even a change of clothes. You loved the way he loved his job, but love wasn't always enough to overcome the adversities that made life as a star. That was made clear to you by the Ceo of Bring on the night's discography.

You broke up with him shortly after his debut, you didn't give him any explanation, you simply told him that you didn't want to be with him anymore and you left.

Years later, in the present day, Jimin had become a world star, famous for his talent on the keyboard, and you, for your part, had achieved your goal of becoming a critically acclaimed actress.

What you never thought was that, as you were both on the same level, you would inevitably meet at events such as awards shows, and, to be honest, you didn't think you could ever say no to Jimin again.

GOODNIGHT N GO (Band!AU) ♡ ◇ ♤

>> Part Of BOTN series

-> pt1

-> Drabbles: First Encounter / ...

-> Summary: For the first time in your entire career as an artist you had gotten into a scandal, and one of the worst scandals there could have been. A rapper whose name you didn't even know had told hundreds of gossip channels that the two of you were in a solely sexual relationship.

Now, with no excuse to give because no one would believe you without proof, you and your manager decided to make a completely risky bet; talk to Kim Taehyung, the guitarist of BOTN and ask him to pretend to be your boyfriend. To your surprise, he didn't hesitate to accept.

The deal was clear: neither would have feelings for the other, neither would meddle in the other's relationships, and neither owed the other any explanations.

At first you thought it would be simple, just another performance, just like you did for your music videos.

How wrong you were.

ECHOES OF LOVE [16.9k] ◇ ♡

-> Summary: You and Taehyung had a passing relationship four years ago, a relationship that felt like a hurricane; fleeting, sweeping, destructive. You had left a mark on him, one that, even as the years passed, was still present, and, no matter what he did, it seemed unwilling to go away.

GUILTY AS SIN? ◇ ♧

-> Preview I / Preview II / Preview III

-> Summary: You have just entered your new job as an intern in a hospital you worked so hard to get into; at last, after so many years, you had managed to fulfill your dreams, little by little, step by step. You had finished your studies with honors, you had a beautiful -and luxurious- apartment in the center of the city, you had just entered the job of your dreams and your relationship with your dream boyfriend was going great.

Or so you thought until you met Kim Taehyung, the clinical mentor you were in charge of, who doesn't seem to mind keeping his opinion about your relationship and your idealized vision - in his own words - of your life.

MISUNDERSTANDING [2.9k] ◇ ♡

-> Summary: It's basically your reaction to hearing about the dating rumours between Taehyung and Jennie while the two of you are still in a relationship. And obviously, he is trying to fix things as quickly as possible.

PLAYER 204 (SquidGame!AU)

-> Summary: Things in your life had started to fall apart the moment your father passed away. Not only had you lost a part of your family, someone important to you, someone who raised you with blood, sweat and tears; you lost everything, literally. How could you believe that your father, the person you trusted the most, had left you with a ridiculously large debt? There was no possible way you could pay it off, and you definitely wouldn't tell your boyfriend.

You were desperate, you would do anything to get rid of that burden, even if it meant going to some children's games to fight against 456 other people, after all, they were just that; simple children's games.

TREAT YOU BETTER (Band!AU) ♡ ◇ ♧

>> Part Of BOTN series

-> pt1

-> Drabbles: Princess Treatment / ...

-> Summary: Jungkook considered himself a very tolerant person. He tolerated Jin with his horrible jokes, he tolerated Namjoon breaking his stuff by accident from time to time, he even tolerated Jimin stealing his stuff, but there was one specific point where he would never tolerate any bullshit.

That point was you.

The day he found out the idiot you were dating, he almost broke his phone from how hard he smashed it against the wall. He believed you deserved better, no, he knew you deserved better, no doubt about it, and he was more than willing to show you what would be the minimum point you should accept in a man.

CROSS THE LINE ♡ ♤

>> Spin-off from Echoes Of Love

pt1 / pt2

-> Summary: After years of working with Jungkook, your insecurity about your feelings for him begins to grow and become more complex, bringing you to the point where you wonder if you can really keep fooling yourself or if it's time to face those feelings.

THE HAN FAMILY [Currently On Hiatus]

-> Moodboards

-> Summary: Your boss -with whom you had been working for more than seven years- had given you the job of going to check out one of his most recent projects, a large house on the outskirts of a rather quiet town that was quite far from the city.

It wasn't until you spent the first week staying at the house that you realized something important. From dead animals, to the shadow of a badly wounded young woman screaming at your window in the early morning hours, every single thing that happened during your stay there was screaming at you to leave, warning you about what your future would be.

It had taken you a long time to realize that, much to your disgrace, you had no escape. You were trapped in that place, and it was no longer just your job that was at stake, after all, how could you work when you were dead?

BRING ON THE NIGHT (Band!AU)

-> Summary: Get to know the life of the members of Bring On The Night! The pop/rock band of the moment that has a whole generation addicted to their music, lyrics and performers.

THE NEONIX CHRONICLES (Alien!AU)

-> Summary: Seven people, none related to each other, end up stranded in a sector of the planet where, according to some rumors, people disappear out of nowhere, leaving no trace, making no sound, almost as if they never existed.

Each of these people went there for a different purpose; some went there out of mere curiosity, others went there with the intention of disappearing as the legend dictated.

Regardless of their different purposes, there was one thing that connected them; all seven had been abducted by a huge whale-shaped ship and taken to a planet they did not know, full of species that did not look at all friendly and, worst of all, being taken straight to the black market to be sold to the highest bidder.

THE J THREE (College!AU)

-> Summary: Still don't know The J Three? They are the heart of Yonsei University, they are the soul of the party. Kim Seokjin is the eldest of them, a total heartthrob; he loves to romance shy and cute girls who melt for him and his beautiful face, plus he is lucky enough to swim in money.

Then follow the Jung twins; the man, Jung Hoseok, is the king of the party, the aesthetics, the music, the style, everything is completely planned by him -it's not hard to imagine why girls are dying for him-. And, of course, Jung Chaeyoung, that girl is completely crazy, trust me, you don't want to run into her at a party, she will probably fall on you or end up taking you to her room; she is not known for being discreet. The three of them form the great The J Three, a group you definitely shouldn't be in.

OOPS! I'M THE MC (Otome!AU)

-> Summary: Your life had always been quiet; you worked in a small coffee shop downtown, lived in an average apartment with your roommate, Sunhee, and spent most of your free time playing random online games, one of your biggest obsessions being Love.exe, a new otome game that everyone was talking about and, well, you didn't want to miss it, much less after seeing the 7 main characters and their routes.

Valentine's day was approaching and, with it, a super romantic special; you were promised roses, chocolates, love and a bit of spice, but what did you get? A stupid bus crash that led you -somehow- to enter the world of Love.exe, where every single thing you did affected your relationship with those seven beautiful guys, and from where you definitely need to escape as soon as possible.

Back to Navigation ->

[vespaer77]

I have a hot take.

And I understand that a lot of it comes down to opinion and interpretation. The "official canon" for the game is your own damned canon, and I frankly love that for all of us. It's beautiful and freeing and sets us up to celebrate a variety of different worlds and that's pretty rad.

But (of course there's a "but") I'm coming to understand that…

…my canon interpretation of this line is very different from a large majority of this fandom.

And I guess it's not really a hot take. No one's interpretation is wrong, and I would never want someone to think that. No one should ever have their fun taken out of the game, it's a game. I think mostly I'm just looking for folks who read this the same way I do. Because to me?

Solas' greatest fear is not to literally die all alone.

Like, all by himself.

Not only do I believe that that's a large oversimplification of the meaning behind that statement, but I'd also argue that dying all by himself is precisely what Solas intends to do. He has had every opportunity to avoid it, especially in a Solavellan run, yet he's made zero moves to do so whatsoever.

At the end of Inquisition, he was still a member of the single most powerful and influential religious and paramilitary organization across the entire southern half of their continent. Aside from defeating a sea of demons and darkspawn horrors, and closing a breach in the sky between the Fade and the material world, they've also singlehandedly redesigned the flow of commerce between two nations, they've seated a ruler on the throne in Orlais, and chosen the next Divine to serve on the Sunburst Throne in the Chantry. They're responsible for shaping the future for the whole of southern Thedas, and the leader of that organization is potentially very sympathetic to Solas' beliefs and perspectives. There was much they could have accomplished together, and yet…

He left. Vanished into thin air, even, for two years. With no word.

And when we finally got the chance to confront him, and wrestle a larger kernel of truth out of the man, he told us that he walks the din'an shiral. A journey of death. And he made it unequivocally clear that he intends to walk it alone.

By himself.

There are a lot of ways to interpret what the din'an shiral even is, but the solemnity and weight he used when he referred to it carried a sense of finality. He intends to bring about the death of the world, that much we know is true, whether he sees it that way or not. But could his own life be the cost?

His ritual artifact is a blade, believed to have been fashioned from his red lyrium idol after having been recovered and cleansed. But it could've remained an idol, or it could've been made into an orb. It could've been a staff or a crown, or a necklace with the jawbone of some other critter. But it's a blade. Is it simply because rending the veil involves a certain act of piercing or tearing? Or is it still a weapon? An implement of violence or self-defense? Or even… of self-harm?

Regardless of the interpretation, there's nothing about Solas' future that suggests to me that he's safe. Or accompanied by anyone who intends to keep him safe. And there's nothing about Solas that suggests to me that he isn't acutely aware of all of this.

I don't think Solas has any fear whatsoever of literally dying all alone, at least according to my personal canon. To me, I think Solas views his death as his duty and he will not bring anyone down with him.

I believe that "dying alone" means something much bigger and deeper and more meaningful to Solas than it does to us, the player. And he goes to great lengths to identify and define what this fear means to him through a series of conversations he has with Varric during party banter.

There's quite a bit of self-discovery Solas conducts through this dialogue. It starts when tells Varric that he read Hard in Hightown. He then asks him if there are other trickster figures in dwarven literature, presumably because stories of Fen'Harel stated he walked as kin amongst both the Evanuris and the Forgotten Ones and there could could be some tie or some clue about that here, whatever that means. He goes on from there to begin asking pointed questions about Orzammar and what he perceives to be a lack of dwarven ambition. He makes remarks about how they could have a larger hand in shaping global affairs through their control of the lyrium trade and he seems genuinely confused why Orzammar would never consider reuniting with Kal-Sharok.

But he really circles down into the heart of the matter when he asks Varric if he ever misses a life beneath the stone. Varric responds by asking how he could miss something he'd never had, having been born a surface dwarf. And he tells Solas that even if the stone called to him in the manner he's describing, he's very happy with who he is and the life that he has, and he has no wish to change anything.

And from there, we watch Solas grapple with his answer. To him, Varric is someone who is just as sundered from his own identity, and he cannot fathom finding satisfaction in a life like that - a mundane life without magic or the song of the stone. He cannot rationalize it against his guilt and his regrets and his pride, and cannot let it go. So he then spins up an anecdote of a man he saw in the Fade.

He saw a man, alone on an island. His tribe had fallen to beasts and disease, and his wife had died in childbirth.

He was the only one left.

He could have left to find a new land or a new people. But instead he stayed. He spent his days catching fish in a little boat and he spent his nights watching the stars and drinking fermented fruit juice. (That's wine, Solas. That's called wine. You can just call it wine.)

To Solas, this man has surrendered to his defeat. And he gives us our first glimpse into what his fear might actually mean, right here.

"Knowing it will all end with you."

From there, Varric even asks him, "What's with you and all the fallen empire stuff, anyway?" And they go on to discuss what it means to give up and what it means to fight back, what costs are truly associated with each, and how those meanings can vary so widely between individuals whose lives have been so different. The analogy we didn't see at the time however, that we can now examine through hindsight, is that the man on the island wasn't just a representation of the old dwarven empire, but also of the Elvhen.

The man on the island was supposed to be representative of Solas himself.

(I also think it's cool that Varric mentions Orzammmar being too proud to ask for help.)

We are supposed to hear the anguish in his voice when he asks Varric whether he has any concept of what his capitulation to live as a surface dwarf has cost him.

Because Solas knows. For whatever reason (that we're about to discover in Veilguard), the remaining Evanuris were so horrific after the death of Mythal that the only solution he could devise that had any hope of protecting the world was to create the Veil and drive a wedge between the dreaming and waking worlds. To create a divide between magic and reality. To silence the song from the stone. To create a barrier that the blighted gods could never cross.

But one that also trapped the spirits.

And afterward, while he slept a dreaming sleep for centuries, the toll of creating the Veil having been so great, he watched as his people also began to quicken and die. He watched as their spirits also crossed the Veil to be trapped behind it forever. Everyone he ever knew and loved. All the chains of slaves he broke were for nothing. They simply traded one cage for another. Because of him.

And while Abelas and his company still guard the Well of Sorrows, they are bound to Mythal. (Also, I'm pretty sure you can make a choice to kill them? I never have, but I think you can?) They are still creatures that are beholden to her, and thus they are expendable. Mythal was even willing to sacrifice Flemeth to gift her power to Solas, to cure his weakened state after waking from uthenera, and hopefully prevent the risk of future mistakes being made. Like Corypheus.

Even Solas is expendable in the line of his duty, if it means he will succeed. He would gladly sacrifice himself to rectify his greatest mistake, and restore his people to themselves. Because they've been sundered for so long, they've forgotten who they are. And they are not his people anymore. He will make them remember.

He will restore their connection to the Fade, he will reveal lost paths to ancient libraries, and he will reawaken their relationships with their spirits - archivists, and spirits of purpose and wisdom and valor and faith and all of their ancestors that lived before them. He will make them what they were, as they were when he knew them. Because without that, they are incomplete. The spirits are incomplete. He is incomplete.

Our job in Veilguard will be to either help him find a better way to accomplish his goal, or help him find a way to find satisfaction and completion in this world. (Or, you know, kill him, but not in my canon, thanks.) Either way, we have to get him to accept help.

Because the burden that he carries within himself is the sole memory of a vast nation, and it is heavy. Far too heavy to bear alone. He is the last living key, a fragile remnant, a final, solitary link through dreams to the history, the knowledge, and the entire cultural identity of the Elvhen people. (The People people? Is that redundant?)

And without him, all of that is lost.

Forever.

To him, he is the last of the Elvhen.

So, my interpretation of Solas' greatest fear is not that he is afraid to die all by himself. It is something I feel is truly much more heartbreaking.

It is that he is afraid to die the last of his kind.

He is afraid to die alone.

[furiousgoldfish]

Abusive parents can shape you to believe there's two types of people in the world: successes and failures. You continually need to prove that you are not a failure, while, being forced to always be afraid you'll become one, and the goal you're presented with is to somehow become a success, which also you are told, is impossible for you.

The failures can be defined differently, based on what parents believe; it's usually people without a job, home, money, struggling with illnesses or addictions, but it can also be any kind of person the parent hates; if they're politically aligned, then anyone posing threat to their politics, if they're religious, then anyone outside the religion. If they have a relative or neighbour they don't like, then this person is also the failure, and you must not become like them. Successes are the people parents are charmed by, and people universally acknowledged as successful; people who have big properties, money, influence, power, fame, who are able to act in a charming way and come off confident and influential. Possibly have a cult going on.

 As you grow, you may begin to realize that everything you do somehow leads you to become 'the failure', and no matter how hard you try to fit into the success group, nothing you do right counts, or is acknowledged in any way. Your grades are never good enough, you never show enough talent, you're never good enough at anything, your behaviour is criticized no matter what, you are made to feel like you'll make nothing of yourself no matter how hard you try. And this just goes on as you grow up; no job you land is good enough, if they even let you have a job, no achievement or success is acknowledged, it's only if you do something that specifically gives positive attention to your parents, and lets them live trough your success, that you can fleetingly get a little bit of approval, and at all other times you are a failure.

This can send you into an impossible mission to prove to them that you are something, that you can do things if you try your best; it can cause endless stress both in academic setting and at your job, trying to do the impossible and constantly fearing it won't be enough, you'll make a mistake, it will prove that your parents were right. If you keep going, it leads into anxiety, perfectionism, exhaustion, numbness, and finally burnout. And it doesn't change, no matter what you do, you never change your position of failure in your parents eyes.

And eventually you might realize, that even if you did something incredible, like won a nobel prize, achieved world peace, ended world hunger, your parents would still treat it as 'you were lucky this one time' and decide you're not worth anything and move on with their day. There never was a way for you to achieve their approval; more over, the very system of belief they presented to you is false. There is no division of people into successes and failures.

As you mature and learn more about people in the world, you can find out that most people who are considered a success, have their achievements over-exaggerated, often the work is sourced elsewhere, exploited or stolen, money made off of backs of other people. The fame often comes from projection, acting, and careful curation of their public appearance. In current system there are almost no people who reach success by working hard, and those who do, generally struggle severely, and have their pain erased and dismissed by the general public. The 'successful' people generally, do not contribute to society in a meaningful way. Rather, they leech off of it.

The ones presented as failures, are usually people just failed by the system. Those without jobs, families, money, property, struggling with illnesses, addictions, systematic oppression and isolation, are people who have done nothing to deserve or cause any of that. There's also no lines between the 'successfull' and the struggling, lots of people are in both categories. World is so densely nuanced and complicated, one person might have done incredible things in their life, and then experienced the rock bottom due to circumstances out of their control.

The very concept of looking down on people who are struggling, is ignorant and shameful. It's a sign of apathy and superiority complex. And your parents not only convinced you that this was the only true way to look at society, but they used that very concept against you. To make you feel like you, a child, who has done absolutely nothing wrong, are deserving of being looked down at. That you are by default, the part of society they are right to look at with 'deserved' contempt and patronizing. And they, the parents, were directly responsible both for putting you into the world and deciding your socio-economic circumstances, your situation is a reflection of their actions. And they had the nerve to act like you're worth less than they are, just for existing, something that was completely out of your, and in their control.

You belong to the world, and your circumstances are out of your control, just like everyone else's. There's no category to sort you into, because people's lives are not reflected by black and white categories, you're complex, varied, you bring something to the world just by being yourself and existing. You are not to be singled out for how you live! And your life and your worth should not be decided by ignorance of two people who have never looked at another person and had any idea what they're looking at.

[fallingrealms16]

CAITVI FIC REC LIST PART 5 (???) <3333

THEYRE JUST GIRLFRIENDS YOUR HONOUR— *gunshots*

The mental anguish this ship has caused me…aye aye aye…PART 5!! All the long fics I promised in part ??2?? Idk but TAKE ITTT

‼️Lately I have been seeing a lot of targeted hate towards some authors. I wanna be straightforward and just say any hate is not tolerated on my page. If you do not like an author just don’t read their work. Simple as that‼️

I know a place by endlessmurmurs

71K Words // 14 Chapters // COMPLETED endlessmurmurs on X

//EXPLICIT//

‘But…I’m so…tired…’

‘I know. I know you are, cupcake,’ Vi soothes. Cait feels herself tilt suddenly and tenses at the feeling of falling, but it’s just Vi, moving closer as the mattress shifts under her weight. ‘But you have to stay awake, because I have things I need to tell you.’

What happens in the days and weeks (and months) following the events of Season One.

The Monsters that Haunt Us by Valkyriethehopeless

74K Words // 21 Chapters // COMPLETED

//EXPLICIT// a part 2 coming in Feb

It's been over a year since Caitlyn and Vi last saw each other, over a year since the explosion that killed Caitlyn's Mother and changed everything. Vi vowed to herself she would leave Caitlyn alone, that she wouldn't bring any more hurt into her life. But when Caitlyn strolls back into the lanes and asks for her help, can Vi maintain her resolve to stay out of Piltover's politics? Or will she crumble at the first sight of an old friend?

Reflections of Indigo and Violet by JetBlackSynapse

84K Words // 13 Chapters //COMPLETED

//EXPLICIT//

A retelling of Vi and Caitlyn's story events from the show, beginning from the events of Episode 4: Progress Day. The story will be told from both their perspectives, and switches POV each chapter (odds are Caitlyn, evens are Vi), so there will be overlapping parts.

Just to know you’re alive by pigeonmom

127K Words // 17 Chapters //COMPLETED

//EXPLICIT// 🔐 account needed

A year and a half after the accident that changed both their lives, Caitlyn and her wife face the fact that things might never go back to the way they used to be.

Unhinged by loveshazel

127K Words // 18 Chapters //COMPLETED

//EXPLICIT// loveshazel on X

A college AU where everyone's favourite lesbians pine for each other once more when they decide to just be friends after a one night stand. If only it were that fucking simple.

Soap by LevitatingMountainYak @levitatingmountainyak <33

155K Words // 19 Chapters //COMPLETED

//EXPLICIT//

Jinx actions have created two power vacuums, and there are factions on both sides of the river eager to seize the reins for their own reasons. The Chembarons each eye Silco's empty throne and, ignorant of the deal he struck with Jayce, see no need to play by the rules. Meanwhile powerful outsiders in Piltover find themselves in control of one of the few effective fighting forces in the city, and see a path to creating a new council more willing to grant their requests.

With forces from above and below eager to trample them the common folk of the Lanes, as well as Piltover, need someone in their corner. With the prospect of peace and equal representation slipping away our champions are going to need to band together to avert another catastrophe. But as anyone can tell you- oil and water don't mix...

Call It What You Want (Separate Ways) by IllusiveWritings, shipsnthenight @shipsnthenight <33

177K Words // ?/? Chapters //INCOMPLETED

//EXPLICIT// shipsnthenight on X

Caitlyn has it all. She's one of the most influential pop musicians in the world, critics acclaim her music, albums fly off shelves and her fans adore her.

At twenty six, she has conquered pretty much everything there was to in the music business. Now off duty and with some time for herself after a six months long overseas tour, back at home in Piltover, she decides to do something for herself.

Enter Vi, a young and skilled tattoo artist, armed with an extensive portfolio, enough charm to bewitch a brick and just enough cluelessness that takes on the job to ink Caitlyn's skin.

What could possibly go wrong?

^^^^Some art on X for this fic <33

Broken Ring by Daxtious

187K Words // ?/24 Chapters //UNCOMPLETED

//EXPLICIT// Daxtious on X

Freshly graduated from the police academy, Caitlyn Kiramman is determined to prove to her fellow officers that she is more than just a rich girl with a pretty face. After overhearing her commanding officers talking about an illegal fighting ring in the Undercity, she goes to investigate for herself with the hopes of gathering evidence to prove her worth.

What she finds is the equivalent of a nightmare, people being put inside the ring to fight each other to the death like dogs. It’s inhumane torture at the price of earning a profit and providing entertainment for a crowd. It gets even worse when she finds out one of the top fighters is someone no older than her, a pink haired girl with metal-clad fists and a sharp tongue to match, who’s fighting spirit reminds her far too much of her own.

It’s quickly discovered that something far more dangerous is brewing beyond the walls of Piltover, something that is far worse than anyone could have prepared for.

Hotshot by SarcastCity

242K Words // 50 Chapters // COMPLETED

//EXPLICIT// SarcastCity on X

Caitlyn's route to work as a detective at the 51st Precinct takes her right by Fire Station #516, and Vi's been pining after the gorgeous Mystery Woman for six months...what will happen when she finds out that Caitlyn's a cop (AKA: The Enemy)?

Sadly no short fic bonuses this time as the only short ones I’ve read are still incomplete! Well we’ll see next list <33

I’m going to go through and update some of the info on my other caitvi lists as some fics were not completed. If they aren’t completed I’m going to put chapter number as ?/? as they are being updated. I will put full chapter count instead of / in the future if it’s a completed story. I just don’t like how I formatted it <3 I have also removed the “hits” amount too as this fandom is ever growing and I cannot keep up with the change in hits for each individual fic rec ILYILY

[loving-family-poll]

2nd Ultimate Incest Tournament - Round 2

Propaganda under the cut

Jesus/Mary:

And then Jesus did fucketh his mother amen

Cmon man it’d be really fucking funny

It's never gonna happen BUT imagine if the last poll ended up being Jesus/Mary vs Lestat/Gabrielle. Heavenly Mom/Son VS Trashfire Creatures Of Darkness Mom/Son

Technically double incest due to the Holy Trinity: Jesus is God, which means he's both Mary's son and Mary's Father. Insert "calling your son Daddy" joke here

We wouldn't have Michelangelo's Pietà or Fabrizio De André's La buona novella concept album without them

Mary pretty much pushed Jesus into performing his own first (official/canonically recognized) public miracle at the Wedding at Caanan. If she hadn't spoken up? Not only would the wedding itself been a disaster and tanked the couple's reputation, but Jesus would have spent his life being like "uhm, but I should wait for a REALLY important occasion to use my divine power..." until like Lazarus

What if you were young and pure and unused to much besides life in a temple and your entire existence was shrouded in prophecy and mysticism to the point you were Chosen by God as the vessel for His own incarnation but then said incarnation turned out to be like. Just a child, besides the occasional weird Unearthly Wisdom Moment or early miracle. And what if you loved that child above anything else, despite having been forced to flee from your homeland due to his very conception putting you at risk of persecution and death, despite having had to give birth to him in rather miserable conditions, despite your husband almost leaving you over him. And then it turned out your child was never yours to begin with, but the whole world's sacrificial lamb, and you had to watch him suffer through one of the most excruciating forms of torture in history after the betrayal of his friends, and watch him be mocked and insulted and denied a chance of salvation right before that, to the point that even he, who had previously literally walked on water and raised the dead from their graves, eventually lost hope and despaired. And his last, anguished words were for his silent Father, asking why He'd abandoned him, but you were there the whole time, there near the cross you knew you'd watch him die on, and he'd tried giving you one of his own disciples, the one he loved the most, as another son to lessen your pain, to give you someone else to live for, but how could he ever expect you to be able to love again like that?

Gerard/Mikey:

brothers from new jersey. grew up spending a lot of their time together in the basement. we've all heard of flowers in the attic time for flowers in the basement. disgustingly in each other's space constantly. weird offputting freaks you met at a house party or basement show once. they share dawn of the dead in their list of favorite movies which i think is just kind of cute.

went to a smashing pumpkins concert together and decided being in a band is what they wanted out of life.

became the vocalist and the bassist for one of the most influential emo bands of the 2000s. as with any band that tours, especially in early days when you're not that popular, just a lot of room sharing and being noticeably in each other's space. people also consistently joking that they can read each other's minds.

gerard wrote "brother" about mikey and it's suspiciously close to another song he wrote ("summertime") which is straight up one of the most heartwrenching love songs mcr has ever come up with which is really really saying something. not to downplay brother either, because its pretty crazy. actually im just submitting summertime and brother as propaganda.

gerard has, on stage: licked mikey's nipple, pantomimed giving him a handjob, and generally groped him.

my personal favorite is the time gerard had to physically pick up and move mikey to keep him from getting set on fire from stage pyrotechnics.

they also look nothing like each other until they really really do which isn't exactly propaganda so much as porn material. you put glasses on gerard or take glasses off mikey and get them looking the same way and they look literally like the same person

in an interview gerard described teenage mikey as ‘wearing tight, black clothes’, ‘looking like a hooker’, and ‘looking like a piece of chicken’

gerard has gotten up close and personal with mikey during performances of destroya (a song in which 90% of the lyrical content is him moaning) to the point where during a performance one of their bandmates yelled ‘get away from your brother’ at him

gerard also ran a hand through mikey’s sweaty, sweaty hair and along his jaw, then licked it

gerard has written frequently about incest, and when asked which of his characters he related to the most said one who was in love with her brother

gerard is into lots of strange stuff (vomit, piss, inflation, potentially guro) it really would not be a stretch for him to be into incest

This Gif (https://www.tumblr.com/gerardcest/764335264300744704/why-does-he-touch-his-brother-like-that?source=share)

[nowimjustastranger]

Infinity Falls Lore

First work is establishing the change in the timeline, Stan still getting kicked out after Pa found out about the project and Ford leaving with him.

Ford goes to his dream school (West Coast Tech), but he cuts off all contact with his father and mother, Stan only keeping in touch with Shermie. Ford is only close to Stan, though he doesn't dislike Shermie, who was absent for most of their childhood.

The Northwest family are the founders of Gravity Falls, but the community practically worships the Pines family, who discovered the strange and unexplainable, putting Gravity Falls, Oregon on the map for many tourists. So the Northwest’s moved out of pettiness that they were no longer the center of attention in Gravity Falls after the Stan twins and Fiddleford came into the picture.

Fiddleford is Ford's lab partner, having moved his family to Gravity Falls permanently so he could continue his research. Fiddleford and Ford are teaching Stan the basics of building since Stan wanted to bond with his brother more by showing interest in Ford's passion. The three of them are inseparable.

Stan had unofficially adopted Soos as a kid, raising him as his own and adding him to the family roster when he turned 18 as a birthday present (Jesus Alzamirano Pines-Ramirez). Soos works in the Mystery Shack (Stan had named it lol), where they display actual creatures and cursed objects for people to gawk at. Soos is in charge of looking after the place with Tate, Wendy, her gang, and Fiddleford when Stan and Ford go sailing for the year (returning to Gravity Falls before summer in order to get ready for the kids).

Mystery Shack had renovations done to make the display room and the gift shop bigger, also fortifying the display room so it could be locked down when the Shack closed. The reason that the Mystery Shack isn’t in a different location is just in case anything happens (like the anomalies breaking out), all the experts are literally in the adjoining house.

The reason why the Northwest's return to Gravity Falls is because Ford wants to make the Mystery Shack known as the ‘eighth wonder of the world’ as a gift to his brother on his 57th birthday. Ford has more legal contacts in his pocket than Stan and puts them to use by offering to conduct business with the influential Northwest family in return for this favor. Ford chose them because he knows Preston would be easy to manipulate and keep in line. Plus, Ford has other plans for him too.

Ford is working on building the portal with Fiddleford and Stan (Dipper helping with the equations but none of the actual building since it was dangerous), Stan sweet-talking Preston into being business partners with them when Ford has no intention of letting the Northwest family take any credit or glory for his family’s achievements. But Ford knows that the Northwest name can be used as a social shield and a potential fall guy if things go to shit.

Preston and his wife are trying to match Pacifica with Dipper to worm their way into the family since Pines look out for their own, acting as a unit. Pines are fiercely loyal to those they consider theirs. Mabel has Waddles, Candy, Grenda, and Robbie while Dipper has Wendy and Tate (Dipper is less inclined toward people than Mabel). Soos is more emotionally attached to Stan and the kids, but he respects Ford and Fiddleford.

Gideon is an amateur explorer of the weird and unexplainable, interested in Stan’s work and constantly trying to either bribe or trick Stan into taking him on as an apprentice. Stan has no interest in letting Gideon see the inner workings of how they successfully capture/tame the creatures that call Gravity Falls home. He knows a power hungry, greedy, backstabbing little rat when he sees one.

Gideon also has an entirely one-sided crush on Mabel, who is completely dismissive of him. Still, Gideon is persistent, convinced that the reason she won’t date him is because of her family. When things escalate as Gideon goes after Dipper with what little magic he was able to learn, Mabel makes it very clear that hurting her brother is unforgivable. Stan makes sure Gideon is tried as an adult and put away for premeditated, attempted murder.

[mandatory-blog-stop-asking]

thinking about Emma Frost again. let's imagine for a second X-Men matters and my opinion must be shared.

When I was a kid I really respected and liked Professor X. I thought his stances on issues were calm and reasonable and I thought his efforts were, while ultimately fruitless, the best ones in the fictional conversation about inclusivity and race and all that. this is a subtle reference to the fact I only watched the cartoon and the movies as a kid.

When I grew older and learned English I started engaging with the comics and realized that oh, turns out the adaptations are superficial at best and fladerizing at worst, and there's a lot more to Charles than Being Correct. He's actually in fact a scathing critique of control and flawed leaders of good faith ideals, and how you're supposed to grow over those who created the words you use to free yourself from tyranny. Professor X is a jerk, Magneto was right, all that.

But over time I realized how much that erases Emma Frost, villain turned voice of reason extraordinaire.

Emma starts her tenure in X-Men as Claremont's personification of everything that is bad with high society, accosted by Sebastian Shaw, which is that but male. Emma is genuinely awful when Claremont writes her; a GOOD awful, on purpose, but she's not supposed to be relatable. She has her own mutant school, her own team of mutants, her own answer to Cerebro. She's the most genuine Evil Xavier we get for a full two decades. and she's great at it! Even if the hellfire club almost always truces with the X-Men for the sake of fighting a more important battle, there's no question that you're not supposed to root for Emma.

And then in the 90s something changes, Claremont goes away for a second, other people approach the character, and the question becomes, why are we treating her like evil Xavier? She's building community. She's giving a voice to the disenfranchised. She's training them and she's caring for them and at no point is she asking of them things they actively disagree with, which can't be said of Charles. And so starts the process most every X-Men villain goes through: humanization, complexity, redemption. And fuck does Emma redeem herself.

Ten years into not being a caricature of high class, Emma has accrued a tragic backstory, several positive projects in canon, renown as a genius, positive relationships to several characters, and a main team spot in a highly acclaimed, influential run as of New X-Men. A whole new generation of readers introduced to Emma, new powers, new MO, new everything. Other characters are changing drastically, usually backwards, to accompany the movie's success -- Magneto is evil again, Jean goes back to being the Phoenix, Charles is a lot more like Captain Picard. But Emma? Emma gets to keep going. She changes things wherever she goes.

She hooks up with Cyclops, her daughters become their new Cerebro, she becomes the new heavy-hitter, the Hellfire Club becomes more Shaw and Shinobi's deal than hers... obviously, this isn't consistent. She's got low points and moments that don't agree to her new character. But this woman, who started as commentary on how the rich will destroy you for fun, is now a key positive portion of the world because at some point in time, she had a point -- Charles *isn't* the end-all-be-all of the matter of teaching young mutants, Erik *isn't* the best way forward as far as mutant armadas go, there *is* nuance to their dualistic conversation, the dichotomy is only enforced because they're loud, but she can be louder, she can be louder than any of them--

And then Krakoa hits. Yes, there's a full ten years of bad X-Men stories, many of them including Emma, at least one of them including Emma genociding a few Inhumans. But then Krakoa hits, and every character gets a new project.

Cyclops? Seeing the world move on in ways he might not approve of. Wolverine? Being happy, and realizing he means to fight to keep it going. Erik? Charles? Apocalypse?? Seeing how strong their "dreams" are when they compromise, and realizing oh, I am willing to do *anything* to keep this going, quite literally anything, there is no crime predicted by man or god that would be beyond my reach if it meant paradise would not be lost.

Emma? Emma keeps doing what she's been doing from the word go. Keep it fabulous. Keep the children safe. Don't fall for the lies. At some point someone will invade your privacy and try to take everything away from you. Your job is not to simply destroy them. Your job is to showcase to them how this too was accounted for.

Emma, alongside her planning, her alliances, her leading of the resistance, her unfathomable internal strength and her willingness to see the world for what it is, won the war for Krakoa. Charles wanted things to stay the way they were, Erik wanted things to be the way he dreamed they could be, Apocalypse wanted things to impress him.

Emma wanted them to be safe and sound. Emma wanted the children to be safe. And when Krakoa rose and left, now fully developed and having outgrown her as well, she picked herself back up and went to train a new generation.

There's always children to keep safe. There's always a new generation. The work is never finished.

Yes, the O5 have their own version of Xavier's dream fulfilled, but Emma is the only one who managed to keep herself genuine while evolving. In a room with religious zealots, war criminals, villains and ancients evils, Emma could always look at Kitty Pryde and think to herself, look at what we're doing, my friend. Look at what we have to work with. We're not saving them from themselves, we're saving everyone they're willing to sacrifice.

I wish those adaptations would make Emma Frost sound like she does to me. She's not just a third option to the Professor X-Magneto dichotomy. She's a person asking why is this a dichotomy in the first place. She's too busy actually caring about people to bother with the bickering.

For the children, they said when they wanted her to join their little utopia. For the children, she sighed back, realizing that if she didn't say it, quite literally no one else would.

[cursingtoji]

❛ 𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑯𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝑼𝒔? ❜┊parting ways with Gojo then finding each other again. wc 1.5k┊The Clichés ™ ┊request

Megumi watched as you disappeared into an empty classroom sniffing with your head down and he knew better than to meddle in his sensei's private lives, but he couldn’t help himself, being so fond of you.

Ten years ago you were in his life pretty much everyday, the first day you introduced yourself as “Satoru’s friend”.

"I think I'll see you a lot. Between us, I don’t trust he’ll do a good job taking care of you and your sister.”

And you did everything, including showing up at his PTA meetings and to the director’s office when he got in trouble.

“I’m tired of coming up with stories of how i’ve become your guardian, from now on i’ll just let them believe i’m your teen mom” he remembers that conversation like it happened yesterday, he was eight.

“You would’ve been pregnant at 12” Gojo reminded.

“I had my period at 11, so it checks.”

“Please stop talking” Megumi asked sitting on Gojo’s shoulders after you both showed up to his school, being called because he fell and scratched his knee.

“Gojo-sensei? I think there’s something you need to deal with” Megumi called Gojo and pointed to the door he saw you entering.

Megumi never understood what happened, he never asked either, one day you just stopped being his… guardian. Behind the weird humor, he saw Gojo was shaken too, being a kid he didn’t know for sure if you were dating, but the fact Gojo never dated anyone makes he thinks at some point during the time you were part of his life you two started to date but then broke up, he only saw you again when he entered Jujustu High, a couple months ago.

Gojo looked to where Megumi was pointing, knowing the room as the classroom from when he was a student alongside you. The sensei put his hand on his protegee's head, a silent gesture of "thank you, I got this."

When Satoru entered the room he saw you sitting by the window, hugging your legs and looking far away. You didn't move your head even though you heard him entering, he knew you did, but he would be lying if he said your indifference didn't hurt him a bit.

Satoru thought about how small you looked. Since your young days, he grew a few more inches, not too much, but enough to assume a more adult aspect. Meanwhile, you still looked the same girl he teased and joked with. Only now, your eyes felt heavier, like you were tired of carrying all the piled up frustrations.

"You might be the only person who's safe place it's their old classroom" he slid the door shut. The room was dark, it was around sunset time but the day had been cloudy so instead of a warm orange glow, the room where Satoru was scolded so many times felt gloomy and shadowy. You turned your face to him, head rested on your knees.

"I don't get it, Satoru. What else am I supposed to do?" you sighed, remembering the nth meeting you had where you didn't get the promotion you wanted so much. Gojo walked to his old seat, putting his long legs up on the table.

Years ago, he wasn't sure of the consequences of having you tagging along his journey of adopting Megumi. It's not like he asked you to. He was too proud to ask for help, but you helped anyways, and he let you. He allowed you to help raise a kid that was taken away (even though he paid for it) from his blood relatives, simply the most influential clan of the jujutsu world. Satoru was too naive to think there would be no consequences.

Well, for him, there was none.

But the Z'enin elders directed their attention to you, someone that wasn't from any strong clan, or nearly as powerful as Gojo. In the beginning, you thought it was just a coincidence that they were only sending you in easy missions, dealing with low-level curses that any grade 4 sorcerer could handle. After two years, Gojo realized it was purposeful. They were punishing you for taking part in driving Megumi away from whatever their plans with him were.

And when you had no experience to justify being upgraded, you would be stuck being a level 3 for god knows how long. Gojo had to make a decision, he tried to tell you what was going on, indirectly blaming Megumi as the cause of your career plateau, he didn't expect you to flip like you did. In fact, you blamed him, Satoru himself, he was the one taking all the high ranked curses, being the strongest and outshining everyone else.

"That's why Nanami left, y'know? What's the point of staying if only the great Gojo Satoru is capable of saving people and killing monsters?"

Of course that was all frustration talking, but he didn't know any better and he fought back, accusing you of playing house with him and Megumi and neglecting your own skills and training.

"You became weak, that's why you'll never be a grade one."

Such strong words, coming from the strongest, followed you even after you ran away for the next few years, barely saying goodbye to the kid you got so attached to. You had to prove you could be strong, become a grade one then Megumi would be proud of having not one but two strong guardians, yet you failed to realize this search for power actually drove you away from him. Once you came back, your boy was taller than you, naturally more talented too, of course he was, he had the ten shadows, Satoru had the six eyes... and what did you have?

Even after all these years, sweet blood and tears, you were not even a grade 2, but a semi-grade 2. Gojo was well aware of whose fault it was: the elder's and a little bit of his too.

"I'm sorry" he said looking at the empty blackboard, the blindfold didn't allow you to see the sentiment in his eyes.

"What happened to us?" you murmured.

There were very few things Gojo regretted more than his words that day. If he kept his mouth shut, maybe you two would be married by now. Like he dreamed when he was nothing more than a teen.

Clearly, he wasn't happy either. Back then, he delusioned himself into thinking that having you away was for the best, that you would be off the radar and given better opportunities.

Satoru turned to you, raising from his seat and taking the space behind you, placing one leg up the window frame beside you and letting his other touch the floor on your other side, he didn't touch but you couldn't resist the proximity and leaned back on him, resting your head on his chest.

"Nanami returned, did you see him?" Gojo inquired, wanting to be with you in his space forever.

"Not yet, Utahime told me though" you confessed, not telling him the part where you cried like a baby the night she told you that, remembering how you used your former classmate against Satoru, to prove a point you didn't even truly believed in, and now he was back, it only served to prove you wrong and immature.

"And there's Maki too" he reminded, "You two are in a similar situation, she could use some help."

"Out of all people I'm the least—"

"Let me stop you there, sweets" the old nickname gave you butterflies, Gojo took your chin, making you look up at him, "It won't be easy but I think I can convince those old farts to make you a teacher too, that way you can help her and... be close to Megumi" you thought about becoming a teacher before, but it would be nearly impossible given your current grade.

"I dont think they're gonna let me," you exhaled.

"Don't you trust my incredible looks and influence?" he tapped your nose and for the first time that day you cracked a smile.

"Sure, give them your worst, 'Toru" the nickname escaped your lips without a thought. Felt so right, being in his arms, calling each other pet names, planning for the future…

"It's not too late for us to start over" he cupped your cheeks.

Is it not? Megumi was entering a new phase, one you could be more actively a part of; there was a new Z'enin that needed assistance too and even if you were not given recognition for it, you were stronger... Was it too delusional to think you had a new chance?

"Okay, Toru."

Also part of the Clichés event:

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

Tattoo artist!Choso

Morning sex — Toji

Bodyguard!Nanami

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

[krowlovesinazuma]

Prologue:

Life was often disappointing. Looking at the world around them, y/n often had this thought resurface. So gray, dull, repetitive, tiresome... It was hard not to think like this, especially when you had such wonderful worlds to see inside of your phone! Sure it was just a reward after going through bothersome real life tasks, but at least it was a source of color and light into their life.

And nowhere was this more true than in the world of Genshin Impact. Was that any surprise though? The sceneries, characters, stories, it was all so eye catching! But of course, with so many to choose from, everyone has to have favorite places to visit and sources of content. Y/n's choice? Inazuma, of course! To many, this wasn't a surprising choice, as this region was one crafted with care and passion.

That's why y/n put so much time of their life into this small game filled with so much soul, especially when they had a favorite to prefer! And with a favorite region came favorite characters! However, this little game had a far stronger soul than many would suspect. After all, when writings on the internet spoke about self aware characters, it was easy to treat it as just a fun imaginary scenario.

However, interestingly enough, something special happened in y/n's game. Yes, stories of the creator rang wide and far across the entire lands of Teyvat, but they were old, degraded, forgotten by some and discarded as fairy tales by most. Thanks to your love, however, a certain special region felt something special.

Inazuma was a land filled with legends come true and old traditions remembered amongst all, so the stories of the creator were still relevant there. And when suddenly, some influential people of the islands began to feel a light sensation in their bodies, leading them on adventures and making them stronger as soon as the traveler arrived at the archipelago, the dots were easy to connect.

Using connections, they realized that they were the only ones that felt this sensation, or at least the only ones that had associated it with the tales of the creator. At first, some wanted to spread the good word and alert the other regions, but the people in charge realized something alarming. While yes, their influential characters were gaining strength and happiness, wouldn't it be dangerous if other regions suddenly had the same powers? Wouldn't it be safer to keep it a local secret? After all, tourists would just assume it was a silly folk tale, and they would earn the safety if disasters were to come.

So, while they decided to keep this secret from the rest of Teyvat, they began to worship you alongside the rest of their gods. You were far greater than them however, as some could claim that your presence made their lives much better: General Kujou Sara, head priestess Yae Miko, courier Kirara, even the Shogun herself had spoken highly of this creator. They all showed devotion towards them, and desired to keep their love.

There was a sudden change in the middle of this strange situation in your account. One night, a particularly tiresome day of work left y/n exhausted, both physically and mentally. They turned on their laptop, eager to get to playing, but as they began moving and doing commissions, they felt far too tired. It wasn't long before they fell asleep, their head squeezing the keys. It was then, with the screen flashing right at their face, that an error happened in the game. The game recognizes you as a critical character in the game, and Inazuma worshipped you far too much for your influence to be something remote. The screen flashed brighter than your world could ever aspire to, and suddenly y/n was no more.

When they woke up, they found themselves in a field, with the grass hugging their picture. They were well rested, far too well for having fallen asleep at the desk... Wait a minute. Looking around, they knew exactly the location they were in! This wasn't their boring old world, this was the bright Inazuma! But hold on, they had read stuff about this, and how some stories like this turned incredibly dark, and terrifying... They ran some tests.

//tw: small injury mention//

Taking out a swiss army knife they kept in their pocket for convenience, they made a small cut to their finger, and much like they had read so much, they weren't bleeding like normal, but instead a few drops of glittering gold dropped! Letting out a relieved sigh, they knew that they were a legitimate creator. Then, they checked their pockets, and they still had the phone there, so that they could still control the world through there. All was good in their checklist! Now it was just time to get out there, and enjoy whatever they could in this strange situation...

[thefeastandthefast]

Flourished Peony thoughts (spoilers up to episode 11):

I find it incredibly satisfying that Jiang Changyang refrains from intervening in Mudan’s life unless she explicitly seeks out his help.

I was actually expecting the contrary and bracing myself for a bit of white-knighting, since I'd read criticism from someone who'd watched up to episode 11 specifically complaining about the FL being written as supposedly empowered and strong but instead relies too much on the ML, who always happens to be present whenever she needs help. But now having watched up to episode 11 myself, I wholeheartedly disagree with describing a FL who astutely leverages her limited resources as weak and disempowered.

She first goes to him for aid with her divorce in absolute desperation, because her other proactive and well-executed gambits needed time to come to fruition and she didn't have time. It's a hail mary move and he proves himself unexpectedly sympathetic. Ultimately, though, the legal victory he helped her achieve means very little on a practical level. She still ends up on the run, starting over from scratch, without her divorce papers and without her dowry.

This drama skillfully establishes how the realpolitikal power of strategic relationships and networks (that perennial term 关系) softens and often even circumvents the barriers of social convention and hierarchies in a way a single individual has little hope to do. The patronage of the powerful and influential is worthwhile to cultivate in this context, especially valuable when the price for patronage doesn't require moral compromise from the protege (i.e. in the case of Liu Chang).

Jiang Changyang is powerful and influential and, most importantly to Mudan, does not demand what she isn't willing to give, consistently demonstrating that he adheres to the adage he keeps quoting- "a gentleman doesn't demand/take that which others hold dearest." Mudan has real skills and expertise to offer in exchange for fair patronage. Her reliance on his financial and social capital and continued cultivation of this relationship simply demonstrates that she's smart?

If we want to have more period-plausible shows like this one, which tries to be consistent in applying the rules and structural inequalities of its world to all of its characters, then it only makes narrative sense that the FL may need to occasionally rely on the aid of more powerful others and won't be able to only scheme and Charisma check herself out of every sticky situation. It doesn't make her poorly written or disempowered. Besides, Jiang Changyang is not the only connection she cultivates to great effect- she is able to help Shengyi obtain her divorce with Yun Niang's help and seems to have just found new allies in A'Fu and her mother.

Plus, as of episode 11, we see the intentional care he takes to NOT overstep the agreed-upon boundaries of this patronage relationship. The gorgeous, gorgeous scene when Jiang Changyang is behind the screen, watching Mudan's heartbreak and dogged determination as she gathers up the last handfuls of coin she has left to refund the angry mob- even obscured by the fabric haze, we see how deeply he empathizes with her in that moment, his always bemused eyes holding not a trace of laughter for the first time since he's appeared in this show.

He's a guarded man who's constantly shifting from mask to mask. His favorite persona is that of a gleefully avaricious fop who takes no one and nothing too seriously. But in that scene, we see that detachment fail and the pain in his face shows just how seriously he takes her pain. Even so, he also takes seriously the easily upset balance of power inherent in their relationship and his trust in her ability to resolve her own problems. Without her specific request for aid, any presumption on his part to step in would create the kind of debt she cannot afford and may not want to repay.