#please please please please read this comic

[akanemnon]

That's two jailbreaks in one day!

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MASTERPOST (for the full series / FAQ / reference sheets)

[yueebby]

𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 (𝐢) – 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

contents. period piece, forbidden love, ooc, angst (eventual comfort), yandere emperor!gojo, lovesick!gojo, servant!reader, obsessive behavior, lowkey unreliable narrator, time skips, 7.2k words of gojo unable to process his feelings

notes. sorry for leaving everyone hanging after the prologue (make sure to read or reread since it's been a hot minute!) TT but here it finally is!!!...not proofread soz :x

series masterlist | chapter 1/2

You haunt his dreams, he’s sure. Gojo never believed in superstitions or the supernatural despite what all those old geezers preached. That was until your figure started to appear every time he closed his eyes.

The familiar scene of you gets cloudier every time it appears in his dreams, but he knows it is still you. It’s nearly comical how even his subconscious knew of your everlasting beauty. Everytime, the same sequence replays: a grand celebration he had hosted in the palace in honor of a prosperous year of his reign. The two of you were overlooking the guests, seated at the head of the room.

You’re wearing court attire that was altered to fit solely you (it hugged your body in such ways that made Gojo’s head spin), fabrics and dyes all originating from foreign lands. In your hair sits beautiful hair ornaments, swinging with every movement you make.

However, Gojo knows it is not the materialistic items that make you beautiful, no, he knows that it was simply you.

“Has anyone told you how unnerving your eyes are?” You quietly comment, eyes still trained on the party in front of you. Satoru cracks a slight smile, not ashamed in the slightest that he was caught ogling you.

“I thought you said you loved them?” He blinks at you, attempting to lean closer to show off his blue orbs. “You’re starting to hurt my feelings, beloved.”

You purse your lips, subtly leaning away before he can initiate improper conduct. He does not take your action well, snaking an arm around you to firmly cage you in his hold. Normally, you would welcome his advances but you’d rather not be publically humiliated in front of the entire Imperial Court and all of the influential clanheads of Japan.

“Please have mercy on me, Your Grace,” You whisper, eyes flitting across the room, making sure there were no eyes on you. Luckily, everyone was too absorbed with the luxurious goods Gojo had imported for the occasion. It was the anniversary of his coronation, after all.

He makes a noise of disapproval, “Can’t. Must let these people know that you’re mine.” Gojo closes the gap between you and sniffs your neck, softly moaning at your scent. He knows that if the geezers looked up from their silver spoons they would have a heart attack at his public display of affection. Not that he cares. His unorthodox ways may make them livid, but Gojo knows they won’t do anything. He was going to pave the way for the Golden Age of Japan— with you by his side.

“Your Grace!” You giggle at the ticklish sensation left by his warm breath. Any attempts of shying away from him are fruitless.

“Don’t run away,” His other hand firmly places itself on your clothed thigh, restricting your movements. All of this is hidden by the table that sits in front of the two of you.

You’re looking at him with those shiny eyes of yours, silently pleading with him. “Can’t this wait until tonight?”

He huffs, “I have suffered enough today without your presence. Ijichi kept begging me to finalize the preparations, but who am I to care? My flower was too busy having fun without me.” 

“You and your dramatics. I was only away to tend the gardens in the Consort’s Pavilion. Which, might I remind you, is fading by the moment because someone refuses for me to stay there.” You tut, picking up your chopsticks to eat the delectable fish placed in front of you. 

Gojo’s stare never falters as he watches you pick up a small piece, eyes shining as if he were watching a spectacle. “You know I can’t sleep without you.”

“And I, you.” You pop the piece inside of your mouth, chewing happily at the flavor that fills your tongue. “You know, I–” You began, but were cut off by the sudden seizing of your throat. 

The chopsticks in your hands clatter loudly with the porcelain they are dropped on. 

Gojo's breath hitched, his eyes wide and trembling with horror as he watched you struggle for air. "My love?” he choked out, his voice cracking under the weight of rising panic.

Your hands immediately travel to your neck to alleviate the sudden burning feeling that blossomed in it.

“[Name]!” He shouts, large hands quickly rising to cup your cheeks. In a desperate attempt, he squeezes your cheeks to get you to spit it out. 

"Poi–poison," Your voice was hoarse, your face losing its color by the second. Satoru was frozen with fear. “Don’t eat it…Satoru.” With those parting words, you lose consciousness.

“[Name]?” Satoru’s hoarse voice can’t stop repeating your name like a prayer, hands lightly tapping your cheek as if it was going to bring you back to life.

Gojo wanted to laugh. Even when you were dying, you worried about him. Not that it mattered. You weren’t going to die. He refused.

Sometime during your struggle the chatter had stopped, and all eyes were on you. Satoru looks up from you to bark orders to the guards he had placed around the room. They leave to summon the Imperial Physician while Gojo is left clinging onto your limp body, praying to the Heavens above that they will grant him one more miracle.

—

Back in his chambers, Gojo’s head pounds, but he’s not sure whether it was the speed he shot up from his bed or the dream itself. He feels hot, sweat running from his bare chest that heaves to bring oxygen to his quickly pumping heart. He’s nearly certain his chest is going to cave any second with the way it constricts with pain. It was like he was a geezer, he humors silently.

“Your Grace?” A delicate hand cups his cheek. 

He follows the direction of the hand, eyes slowly trailing up the feminine body it belonged to, barely covered as a result of the thin silk nightgown that highlighted her natural curves. “Are you alright? It was only a nightmare.” She cradles his face, moving slowly in his vulnerable state.

Satoru breathes heavily, eyes widening as they travel from her breasts to her face, beautifully illuminated by the sparse moonlight leaking from the window. Her dark hair falls past her shoulders, obscuring some of his access to her skin. His beautiful mistress. He’s sure that she is whispering sweet nothings into his ear, but the images of his memory keep replaying in his mind, occupying it from functioning properly. ”Himiko, how did you–”

“I heard you and I couldn’t bear it.” Her finger softly caressed his flushed cheek, trying her best to ignore the bewildered look on her lover’s face. 

THE PRESENT —

The journey to the Inner Palace was a blur. After a long goodbye, a horse drawn carriage was sent to the front of Yaga’s estate the very next morning. Your mind was elsewhere the entire time, too busy mulling over your past and now damned future. 

That is why when the carriage comes to a complete stop in front of the servants’ quarters, you are startled to meet two awfully familiar faces.

The two are silent, eyes carefully watching you exit the carriage. The purple set of eyes steps forward first to take your bags from you. 

“Ah thank you Mister—“ Your voice trails off, eyes looking up from the dark robes in front of you only to be surprised with a familiar face. “L-Lord Geto?” 

His lips quirk up slightly upon recognition. “Welcome back, [Name].” Your heart throbs at his indifference from the last interaction you had. It is quickly concealed by the excitement in your voice when your eyes spot a comforting pair of eyes.

“And Kento?” You light up.

Suguru raises an eyebrow at your familiarity with the Imperial Chancellor. He knows he should be relieved that you held no malice towards himself and Nanami, knowing the struggle you were subjected to when banished. However, there was a foreboding feeling gnawing deep within his soul. Guilt? Fear? It was hard for Geto to put a finger on it.

Nanami simply nods in acknowledgment, but stays silent under Geto’s watchful gaze.

“[Name],” The black haired man starts. Your eyes return to his face. “I wanted to be the first to greet you here, but I suppose Lord Nanami must have had the same idea.” He chuckles lightly, but the mirth never makes it to his eyes. You don’t notice Lord Nanami stiffening up.

“To say I am flattered would be an understatement, Lord Geto.” You return the same sugarcoated pleasantries. 

Geto must have noticed your unease, reminding you, “Please, there is no need to keep your guard up around me. I don’t bite.” His voice has a teasing lilt. It does little to soothe you. 

“Can you blame me, Lord Geto?” Your eyes meet his purple ones that narrow at your allusion.

“I suppose not.” He hums. “Though I must tell you that the incident was out of my power. I must carry that burden everyday, so I implore you to forgive me, [Name].” He throws out your given name once again like you were familiar. 

When you don’t respond, he continues, “I know, it is easier said than done.”

“You don’t say.” You bite your tongue as soon as the words leave your mouth. He fails to acknowledge how your last interaction was your banishment, served just by the man in front of you.

A sigh escapes Geto’s lips. "As a gesture of my accountability, I place myself entirely at your disposal. Simply name a favor, and it shall be fulfilled." You can’t detect anything but sincerity in his words, leaving you speechless. “Of course, it had to be within my power, but I shall grant you one request in return for your forgiveness.”

“I—” You were too shocked to form a thought. “I don’t know what to say.”

Suguru’s eyes crinkle, "Our last encounter may not have been pleasant, but I still consider you a dear friend, after all.”

“I am flattered to say the least that you had decided to grant me such honor,” you gape.

Geto shakes his head softly, “You shouldn’t hold me to such high regard. I could hardly bear the weight of your disfavor.”

“You know I don’t harbor any ill feelings towards what happened,” you say softly. It wasn’t Suguru’s decision what happened that night.

“I wouldn’t be able to live with myself otherwise,” the black haired man in front of you pushes. You relent. Perhaps you should just bite your tongue and accept the opportunity presented. “Please. Just think about it.”

You watch in silence as Geto turns around to walk away. His sudden offer leaves your mind racing. A man of his caliber, second to none but the emperor himself, would be able to grant any of your desires. Perhaps you should ask to import Western literature, tales of great fantasy— or, you could think bigger and ask to move back with your clan. Though you highly doubt he will entertain the latter, considering your indentured servitude to the Inner Palace. 

Your racing thoughts are diverted when you hear someone clear their throat to capture your attention. You perk up when you realize that Lord Nanami was still here, and you have completely ignored his presence.

“I am just as surprised to see your immediate return to the palace.” Nanami adjusts the glasses on his face, sympathetic eyes never leaving you. You flush under his gaze. It was quite embarrassing knowing the entire palace probably had caught wind of your incident with the emperor.

A nervous chuckle escaped your lips. 

“It wasn’t my intention,” you mumble. “But I suppose if fate has decided, there is not much I can do.”

“You truly believe that it was fate that brought you here?” Nanami asks, the hold he had on your arm tightening enough to catch your attention but not enough to hurt. 

“I-” You begin, words failing to conjure. “I’m not sure.”  You had thought that your banishment was fate, but now that you had been brought back, it felt like you were simply at the mercy of something cruel.

Nanami watches your eyes staring wistfully at the blue sky above, his own flickering to each of your features. He wonders if you know that your expressions gave you away. It’s more endearing than anything, from the flutter of your eyelashes, the wrinkle of your nose, to the furrow of your eyebrows. Only a blind man would deny the fact that you were easy to fall in love with. However, it would make a foolish man to dare to pursue you.

 He’ll appreciate you and your charm from afar where his head may stay attached to his body.

The comfortable silence shared between the two of you is disrupted by a flock of handmaidens passing by. Nanami tenses his jaw when the voices become audible. 

“Is it really her?”

“It’s said that she tried to sneak into the Emperor’s chambers.”

“Is that Lord Nanami? My, we must warn him about that whore that tried to seduce the emperor!”

“Poor Lady Himiko.”

Anger swells in your chest. Though you’re not sure what tale had managed to escape the servants’ quarters, but you pray that they may never reach the emperor’s ears. It was simply profane to the beloved consort, an offense that you know Gojo would never forgive you for. You can deal with nasty gossip, having previous experience, but you doubt you can handle being beheaded for conspiring against the emperor and his consort.

“I’m afraid no matter how much time has passed, the palace rumors seem to never die.” Nanami sighs, exhaustion evident in his gravelly voice. “I advise you to brace yourself. Within these coming days, the fire will only get hotter.” He doesn’t bother elaborating on his words, choosing to lead you to your new chambers.

“Thank you for the advice Nanami,” you exhale. “However, I am sure I’ll be able to manage on my own. After all, I’ve been doing it for quite some time.” The moment the solemn words leave your mouth his eyes soften. You quickly look away, flustered.

“I know you can, [Name]. I suppose my anxieties are misplaced, forgive me.” You can feel his stare bore into the side of your face. He sighs, “it is a habit that comes natural to me.” He worries for you. The words go unsaid, but you are able to decipher his double meaning.

Your heart flutters at his kind implications, eyes too shy to meet him once more. Instead, you choose to fix your gaze on the doors to the servants’ quarters. The blonde man beside you takes the liberty to open the doors to your new room. 

At the sight in front of you, your heart lurches.

Before you stands a familiar head of white hair, standing tall with his back turned towards you. His head was tilted slightly, as if scrutinizing something unseen, before he slowly shook it. Then, with an unsettling calm, he turned to face you, his gaze heavy with unspoken intent.

“I’ll take her from here,” Gojo’s icy voice breaks the silence that had overtaken you and Nanami.

“Of course,” Nanami bows deeply. You turn to bid the man goodbye, but he leaves hurriedly without sparing you so much as a glance. You can’t help but furrow your eyebrows in confusion, eyes longingly watching your old friend walk away.

The moment the shoji doors close behind him, Gojo clears his throat.

“[Name],” he tests the waters, his movements deliberate as he takes a slow, tentative step toward you, the air between you thick with an unspoken tension.

“Your Majesty,” You respond shakily, retreating a step as your breath catches.

“Please,” Gojo mutters breathlessly, his voice trembling with unspoken desperation, his eyes pleading with an intensity that only deepens the pit in your stomach. He takes two deliberate strides forward, the gap between you vanishing as though drawn by an invisible force.

“No,” You shake your head, pain flashing across your face. You won’t let him waltz right into your life after carelessly tossing you away, not without consequence. It is to no surprise that words seem to go unheard to the man in front of you. His eyes glistened in the dim lighting, fixed intently on your face, tracing each feature with a quiet focus, as if he were trying to burn them into his memory.

The world seemed to stay still just for the two of you. But it only lasted for just a moment.

“I’m so sorry,” Gojo mutters, a strong hand flying to the back of your neck tugging you towards him for a searing kiss. The instant his lips crash against yours, he lets out a soft whimper, as though the very act consumes him. Despite the passage of time, your body responds instinctively, like it was always meant to be this way.

It felt like the only thing that mattered was the fact that he was right in front of you, your fast beating hearts making contact with the way he had your chest pressed to his. All while pushing you against his body, Gojo allows his hand to trail down your back, revisiting every valley that he had once memorized.

“Mph,” your traitorous hands find their way into his head of white hair. He smiles into the kiss upon hearing his name leave your mouth.

“Yes?” He leaves a wet kiss at the base of your throat, bending down to continue his frenzy.

“This isn’t right,” the words came out of your mouth in a whisper, as if you almost didn’t believe them yourself.

“You’re wrong.” He inhales deeply, attaching his mouth onto your collarbone, ”I was made solely for this.” A small whine leaves his mouth when you hesitantly try to push him off. He uses his innate strength to fight your attempts.

“May I ask something of you?”

A kiss was placed on your jawline. Another on the base of your throat.

“Anything,” he breathes.

“Do you..” Your voice falters. “Do you love her?” Like you loved me? 

The trail of kisses come to a complete stop. For a second you fear you may have overstepped. The emperor’s silence was palpable. The only sound that filled your ears was the harsh thuds of your own heart. 

“[Name]...” he slowly stands up to tower over you with his height. The distant look in his eyes forms a pit in your stomach.

“Answer me,” you whisper, the pit deepening.

“I am just a man,” he reasons. Your heart drops at his answer.

“You could not even take an oath of monogamy,” you spit. “You are nothing but a weak man.” 

His eyes shoot up from their trance frantically. You fear that the lust he had been tempted with had worn off, and now you were left with nothing but wrath.

“I understand that I was nothing but a spoil of war, but you could have done me one last favor by allowing me to leave on my own accord. You did not have to cast me away,” your vision starts to waver with the tears that puddle in your eyes. “If I knew your heart had yearned for another I would have left.”

The set of blue eyes that stare at you are no longer the lively shade that you had grown to love. They have been replaced by an uncertain stormy grey. It was almost laughable. A man, so big, who had the world in the palm of his hand looked so small.

A cruel part in you enjoyed seeing the turmoil in his eyes after the events that had transpired.

“Had I known the tribulations I put you through, perhaps I would have put a second thought before choosing you.” Gojo exhales, pinching in between his eyebrows. “But I must assure you that you weren’t the only one suffering.” And for a moment you think you see lightning strike in those stormy irises of his. 

Your eyes widen at his confession.

He lets out a deep sigh, “The head maid will be here any minute. I bid you farewell. I pray that with our next interaction, your heart learns to soften.”

Ever for dramatics, Gojo leaves before you can get the last word.

—

True to his word, the head maid soon comes to assign your duties. You’re not surprised at your new set of responsibilities: tending to the emperor’s garden, sweeping the floors to his chambers, and overseeing his meal preparations. 

It is nothing out of your skill set, and you’re more than willing to accept your predicament rather than being burned alive for offending the emperor on numerous accounts. You suppose even Gojo was kind enough to spare you from that cruel fate. It almost softens your heart enough to decide to forgive him of his transgressions. Almost.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a loud clang of a pot. When you turn your head towards the direction of the sound, you’re met with the head maid’s stern gaze. Her eyes narrowed on the wooden spoon you had been mixing in the broth. 

Ah. She wanted you to perform the mandatory poison test before serving the food to the emperor.

However, just as you bring the spoon to your lips, it is violently swatted from your hand, clattering to the floor. Your eyes sadly linger on the spilled broth before snapping to the culprit, your gaze filled with disbelief.

"There were strict orders to ensure that the task did not fall to you," the head maid, Ogami, declared sharply. The elderly woman, with silver hair neatly tied in a tight bun and skin etched with the marks of years spent in service, raised a wrinkled finger in your direction.

You blink, taken aback by her sudden reprimand, the sharpness in her gaze leaving you momentarily frozen. It didn’t make sense—there had been no mention of any such orders, no one had informed you of any changes. You open your mouth to speak, but the words catch in your throat, swallowed by the weight of her unyielding stare. 

How strange.

Days pass by like a blur, your routine falling into place. When dawn arrives, you’re up to prepare the emperor’s garments for the day. Your mid-mornings grow even busier as the palace comes alive with activity. Whether mending torn hems or ensuring the ceremonial robes are free of imperfection, you move like a ghost through the corridors with hopes of going unnoticed. The emperor’s unusual antics, however, make it nearly impossible to slip by unnoticed. He seems to have a knack for drawing your attention. His antics often begin at ungodly hours, long before the sun graces the horizon, as he attempts to coax you into sharing the first meal of the day with him. You decline each time, yet his persistence never wavers, a boyish grin always accompanying his invitations. By the time the sun reaches its zenith, Gojo finally departs to attend to his imperial duties. It’s only then, in the quiet lull of his absence, that you find the chance to make real progress with your work.

“To say I am relieved because of your presence would be an understatement, [Name].” Nanami and you overlook the palace’s main courtyard. 

You smile, hands filled with silks that needed washing, “I could say the same.” The emperor’s outrageous requests were driving you mad. Your mind flashes to earlier that week when he had insisted on hand feeding you honey! You wonder how he survived without a personal servant before you took the position.

“His Majesty is as eccentric as ever, I assume.” Nanami’s eyes crinkle. 

You laugh, “You know him too well!”

“I didn’t have much choice,” he shakes his head, smile ghosting his lips. “We’ve known eachother since our youth.”

You perk up at the news, your curiosity piqued. The confusion must have been written all over your face, prompting Nanami to offer a quick clarification.

“It was brief, our time at the academy. But we were both under the instruction of Yaga,” he elaborates. Huh. What a small world, you think as Nanami paints an unexpected connection. 

“I am struggling to imagine you and him studying under the ever serious Yaga,” you giggle.

“I was in the year below him. It was Lord Geto and Shoko who were first hand witnesses to his nature.” Nanami tells you. 

You nearly dropped all of the emperor’s clothes, “Shoko?” The revelation that your own friend was acquainted with the emperor stopped you dead in your tracks. Had she known him personally all along? If so, she made no effort to reveal it. Instead, she appeared almost disgusted by him, though you had chalked it up to her disdain for the new ruling dynasty rather than a personal vendetta against the man himself.

“I am aware you were well acquainted with her in your time in the Outer Palace, no?” “Yes, but–” you pause, before eyes snapping back to Nanami. “How did you know?”

Nanami blinks, momentarily caught off guard. His eyes widen a fraction, and he opens his mouth as if to explain, but then falters, his words stumbling.

Before he can say anything, a soft, familiar voice drifts from behind you.

“[Name]!” A servant of Lady Himiko calls urgently, her voice laced with a sense of urgency. You turn to face her.

“Yes?”

“The emperor requests your presence in the ceremonial hall. He says it is of great importance and that you must make haste!” The girl exclaims, grabbing your only free arm and tugging you toward the hall.

You glance back at Nanami, your eyes silently promising him that this conversation is far from over. He gives a small nod, acknowledging your unspoken words as he bids you farewell.

“Ah, may I ask what the emperor requires of me?” you ask, trying to maintain some control over the situation.

“You’ll see,” she replies, her tone clipped. Without sparing you a glance, she pulls you forward with determination, clearly focused on her task.

Like a lamb heading toward slaughter, you find yourself helplessly being dragged through the grand doors of the ceremonial hall, your thoughts swirling with questions you can’t yet answer.

The expansive room was eerily empty, a stark contrast to its usual grandeur. The sunlight poured through the tall windows, casting long beams of light that danced across the polished floors, illuminating the intricate tapestries and the grand pillars that lined the hall. But your gaze soon shifted, focusing on the emperor’s seat at the very end of the room.

You had expected the usual scene: Gojo slouched in his throne-like chair, whiny and complaining about the mountain of paperwork he despised. But what greeted you instead was something far more unexpected.

A figure stood poised at the head of the room, commanding the space with an elegance that was undeniable. Anyone familiar with the court could recognize her signature choice of kimono—the rich plum silk embroidered with intricate gold patterns, delicate yet striking. Her hair, black as midnight and flowing like a river of silk, cascaded down her back in perfect waves, a stark contrast to her porcelain-like complexion.

It was Lady Himiko. Her beauty was legendary, whispered about among women across the nation, often compared to a living work of art. The rumors of her grace and poise weren’t exaggerated. Standing there, surrounded by her ladies-in-waiting, who remained perfectly still and attentive at her side.

Her eyes met yours, and for a brief moment, your breath was stolen. The stillness of the room was palpable, and you couldn’t help but wonder why she was here, in the emperor’s seat, with not a whisper of Gojo in sight.

“Ah, just the one I was looking for!” her eyes light up when she sees her servant return with you in her hand. The gleam in her eyes fill you with unease.

“Lady Himiko, it is an honor,” you bow.

“There’s no need for that! Please, stand.” She waves her slender fingers at you, or so it seems, but at her silent command, her ladies-in-waiting begin to move toward you.

You take a step back, instinctively using the emperor’s garments, still damp from your earlier washing, as a shield against their sudden movements. The soft rustling of fabric is almost deafening in the silence that follows.

Lady Himiko’s eyes narrow at the motion, her sharp gaze flicking to the garments you hold between you and her. A faint, almost imperceptible smile plays at the corners of her lips, but it does nothing to ease the tension thickening in the air.

“I understand the unspoken animosity between us,” she says, her voice smooth, but there's an edge to it that sets your nerves on edge. “I pray you will accept my humble apology.” She clasps her hands together, but her eyes remain calculating, never leaving yours.

Her words hang in the air, heavy with implication. “I had not expected the emperor to kindle such… passion for me so suddenly. It was neither of our intentions that fateful night we reunited after the days of our youth.” She shakes her head softly, laughing nervously. "How rude of me, I doubt you of all would want to hear about Satoru and I."

Your breath hitches, caught between surprise and a tightening knot of discomfort in your chest. The weight of her words presses down on you, and you struggle to maintain composure.

“I do apologize for bringing you here on such deceptive terms, but I had to get your attention somehow,” she continues. “As one who has been a former concubine, I wanted your counsel on how I should navigate this delicate matter.” If you didn’t know any better, you would say she was mocking you. But you knew Himiko wasn’t one you wanted to offend, so you bite your tongue.

Instead, you nod, steeling yourself against the discomfort crawling up your spine. “What is it that you need from me?” you ask, your voice betraying none of the wariness you feel.

Himiko’s ladies-in-waiting close in around you swiftly, subtly guiding your every step toward the emperor’s stand. The grand hall feels even larger as you’re led deeper into its heart, each step reverberating through the space.

At the end of the room stands Himiko, watching you approach with a distant gaze. The soft glow from the nearby windows catches on the polished surface of the wooden desk before her, where inkstones, brushes, and stacks of paper lie in disarray.

You pause, your gaze falling upon the desk, and that’s when you notice the manuscript she’s pointing to. Her perfectly filed nails trace the edges of the paper with deliberate slowness. Though you cannot read the characters from this distance, the emblems that adorn the papers are unmistakable. They belong to some of the most powerful clans in the empire, each one a mark of authority and influence.

As your eyes skim across the paper Himiko’s hand rests on, the characters seem to leap off the page in a rush of realization. It’s a proposal– one written by the notorious Zenin clan. You can almost feel the air grow heavy as you piece it together. The words speak of demands for more autonomy—an increase in their power, more control over the lands they already possess. And you know, instinctively, that if this were to pass, everything Gojo has fought for, everything he’s struggled to protect, would crumble into dust. His fight against the rigid clan-based hierarchy would be for naught.

For a moment, your mind reels. This is no mere conversation or request for guidance. This is a game of power, one where you’re being used as a pawn. Her eyes lock with yours, and the air between you thickens with unspoken understanding. She must’ve taken you for a mere tool to execute her own plans.

But you’re no fool, and that realization comes like a slap to the face. You straighten your posture, eyes hardening as the weight of the situation settles in.

“These seals...” Your voice falters as you stare at the emblems, your hand hovering over the manuscript as though touching it might implicate you further. The weight of the realization crashes down on you like a cold wave. You look up at Himiko, bewildered, your heart pounding in your chest. Meddling with state affairs, let alone tampering with the emperor’s documents was a crime punishable by death.

“Does the emperor know about this?” you demand, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and indignation. “This—this could be considered treason!”

“Careful with your words,” she says softly, her tone calm. “It is not treason when it is for the betterment of the empire.”

Your mouth opens as if to respond, but no sound escapes.

“The emperor has always held you in high regard,” Himiko says with a wistful sigh, her eyes narrowing on your figure. “I’ve no doubt he would find it impossible to refuse any command spoken by you.”

Her cryptic words linger in the air, their implications sinking into you. You’re left reeling, unsure of whether her remark is meant as flattery or a thinly veiled mockery of your banishment. 

She scoffs, her delicate façade cracking as her tone turns venomous. “The emperor may not know, but I see right through you. Seducing him to claim yourself as some spoil of war and twisting his mind to lead our nation to ruin—it’s sickening. Truly, a shame the assassination attempt failed.” Her words lash out like a whip, her civil mask shattering entirely.

You gasp, her implications cutting deep even as your heart hardens against the venom. Had she known–?

“Perhaps that is what the entire Court believes of me,” you manage, your voice trembling yet steady enough to carry your conviction. Months of whispered rumors and vicious gossip had thickened your skin, and you refused to crumble under her scrutiny. “But I will not allow you to sully the emperor’s reputation.”

As much as you detested Gojo, your disdain for the corrupt elders burned hotter. They had plotted your downfall, attempted to take your life, and now sought to undermine everything Gojo was fighting to build. You could not allow them to gain any more power in the Court  than they already held.

Himiko’s lips curl into a cold, triumphant smile as she picks up an inkstone and brush from the emperor’s desk. “As his Honored Consort and future Empress I command you to hold this for me while I pave the way for a greater future.” Her words are laced with mockery as she extends the inkstone toward you.

You recoil instinctively, shaking your head. “No. I refuse—” Your rejection is firm, your voice sharper than you expected, as you pull away, clutching the emperor’s garments protectively against your chest. 

The next few moments unravel in slow motion, as though fate itself had decided to humiliate you. Himiko’s gasp pierces the air as your sudden movement causes the inkstone to slip, spilling its dark, viscous contents over her elaborate kimono. The silk, undoubtedly crafted from the finest threads in Japan, drinks in the stain, the deep black spreading like a wound across the fabric.

“My lady!” Her servants rush to her side, their collective cries of alarm startle you. They push you aside as they fuss over her, their movements frantic as they attempt to salvage her now-ruined garment.

You stumble back, staring in disbelief at the disaster you’d unwittingly caused. “I—I am truly sorry—” you begin, but your words falter under the weight of the situation.

“What is going on here?”

The booming voice echoes through the hall like thunder, freezing everyone in place. You whip your head toward the source, your pulse quickening as your eyes land on the figure now standing in the doorway. The emperor himself, Gojo, commands the room with his presence, his expression a mixture of confusion and rising fury as he takes in the scene before him. By his side stands the owner of the voice, an elder, with an expression carved with barely restrained anger piercing through you.

Himiko lets out a sharp cry, her voice trembling with a convincing mix of distress and indignation. Gojo reacts instantly, rushing by her side, his features hardening with concern.

“I found her forging His Majesty’s signature,” Himiko exclaims, her voice wavering just enough to sound genuine. “When I tried to intervene, she lashed out and attacked me.” She trembles as she buries her head against the emperor’s chest.

It hits you—the full realization of her calculated scheme. This was her plan all along.

“I-I didn’t!” you stammer, your voice raw with desperation. “That wasn’t what happened at all– she was the one tampering with imperial documents. I tried to stop her!”

Gojo’s piercing blue eyes snap to yours, cutting off your explanation. His gaze, once warm and teasing, now burns with unrestrained fury. The bile rises in your throat as you see it. Anger, disdain, and worst of all, disbelief.

“Himiko,” he murmurs, his arms tightening protectively around her trembling form. Her soft sniffling only adds to the spectacle.

“To be caught tampering with imperial records is one thing,” Gojo finally says, his voice icy and cutting, “but to stoop so low as to accuse Lady Himiko? Was this an act out of jealousy? Spite? How pathetic. This is beneath even you, [Name].”

You feel your knees weaken, the tears you’ve fought to hold back beginning to pool in your eyes. “Please, you have to believe me,” you whisper, your voice cracking under the weight of his words.

His expression darkens further, the light in his sky-blue eyes replaced by thunderclouds. “Why would I believe you?” he sneers, his tone laced with contempt.

A single tear escapes down your cheek, followed by another, and then another, until you can no longer stop them. The dam of your resolve breaks, shattered by his cruel dismissal.

“Why?” Your voice trembles, breaking as the tears come freely now. “Why don’t you believe me?”

Gojo’s lips curl into a bitter smile. “Don’t make me laugh,” he says coldly. “How could I ever believe in one as base as you?”

His words cut deeper than any blade, piercing through the walls you’d built to protect yourself. You’d convinced yourself you were immune to his indifference, but the searing pain in your chest proves otherwise.

“Leave,” he commands, his voice sharp and final. “Do not look back. Your very presence stirs nothing but disdain within me.”

You stagger back, his words striking harder than any physical blow. He might as well have drawn his sword and ended it here. The infamous tales you had heard about Gojo were once glorious images that were painted of your beloved. You had never thought you would be on the other end of his blade. 

Without a word, you turn and run, your vision blurred with tears. The emperor’s garments slip from your hands, forgotten in your haste to escape the suffocating anguish. You don’t look back, even as the echoes of his disgust chase you out of the hall.

If there was one undeniable truth that Geto Suguru knew, it was that his best friend, Gojo Satoru could be an utter fool. Perhaps it was the inevitable result of a youth stolen too soon, replaced by the crushing weight of an empire resting on his shoulders. The brilliance that made Gojo a formidable emperor rendered him hopelessly inept when it came to navigating the labyrinth of his own emotions.

And as his closest confidant, bound by loyalty and friendship, Geto Suguru couldn’t help but feel the urge to shake some sense into him—to force him to confront what he stubbornly refused to see.

That is why, when your trembling form hurries across the courtyard, tears streaming down your face, Geto Suguru can’t help but halt you in your steps. 

“I’m leaving.” you declare, your voice raw, your eyes red and swollen. The words, so resolute despite your trembling tone, catch him off guard.

“What?” he asks, his brows knitting together in confusion.

“My favor,” you say firmly, though your voice wavers. “I want to leave this place.”

For a moment, Geto says nothing, his sharp mind scrambling to process the abruptness of your request. Then he shakes his head, his expression softening. “You know I can’t do that.”

Your incredulous gaze snaps up to meet him. “So you lied to me?”

“No, not at all,” he says quickly, holding up his hands. “I meant—I can grant you time off. But as someone under the emperor’s direct supervision, I can’t allow you to leave permanently. What I can do is give you one lunar cycle away from court.”

You hesitate, weighing his offer before giving a sharp nod. “I’ll take it. Just let me leave,” you reply, sniffling.

Geto watches you for a moment longer, his chest tightening at the sight of your despair. “I’ll make the arrangements right away,” he says gently. “I’m sorry we seem to meet only under such terrible circumstances.”

“I’m sorry too,” you murmur, your tone hollow.

He hesitates, searching for the right words to offer some semblance of comfort. “Whatever he did, I’m sure—”

“I don’t care,” you cut him off, your voice colder now. “He made his disgust for me perfectly clear.” You march past him, your steps resolute despite the trembling in your shoulders. “Thank you for understanding, though I must beg you to keep this between us. Who knows what might happen to either of us if he finds out.”

Geto exhales slowly, his composure steady but his mind racing. Just what, exactly, had his best friend done this time? Gojo’s antics always seemed to leave Geto cleaning up the aftermath, but this—this was something else entirely.

Just as he promised, there is a carriage waiting for you outside of the servants’ quarters. With heavy bags in hand and an even heavier heart, you make your way toward it, each step weighted with reluctant resolve. The irony of the moment doesn’t escape you, a sense of déjà vu washing over you, as though life had played this scene out countless times before.

You turn sharply, your bleary eyes meeting the calm, hazel gaze of someone you hadn’t expected to see.

“Nanami?” you breathe, disbelief coloring your tone.

He inclines his head in a polite nod. “Forgive the intrusion, but I insist on accompanying you,” he says, his voice as composed as ever. “The roads beyond the palace can be dangerous, especially for someone traveling alone.”

For a moment, you simply stare, caught between gratitude and confusion. The warmth in your chest battles against the ache that lingers from your earlier ordeal. “And what of the emperor?” you ask, forcing a faint smile. “Would he not throw a fit in your absence?”

Nanami lets out a quiet, mirthless laugh, the sound more bitter than amused. “Perhaps,” he admits, adjusting the luggage in his hands with ease. “But he was never one to share, was he?”

taglist. @wr4inn @sukioyakio @siopaoxcc @thejujvtsupost @bakananya @catobsessedlady @fiannee @sleepycow21 @kirashuu @deluludyslexic @isaacdaknight @bathroom-sand @arehzhera @lostinneocity @victoria1676 @uziwork @alexatiu @taenosaurrr @sukunasleftkneecap @toecurlingstories @yandere-stories @dreamsarenicer @hiyaitssans @getoicious @docosahexaenoic-san @goldenglow149 @amiorcani @step-on-me-melissa @erensswife1 @roses-and-reeses @ssc7514 @hyunsuks-beanie @crankyarchives @wooasecret @theiridescentdragon @mshitachin @kieralive @cake-with-the-cream @miffysoo @msvalsius @drthymby @sherryuki-callmeyuki @anonymous-creep @altgojo @aesukuni @sadmonke @luna-v-roiya @hightoasterr @rebeccawinters @paprikaquinn @frozenmallows

[fenningrya]

Tf2 comic seven if officially out and available to read! It’s been a long time waiting…

I’ve read all of the pages and still need a while to process it, so maybe I’ll make art for this occasion in the near future. When I’m not so overwhelmed lol. PLEASE READ IT!!! It’s all very sweet. :]

[sourpotatos]

No one can tell me that all of them arent like uncles to each others kids

[echo-from-a-flower]

I never thought I would reblog anything on this account but this short comic has STOLEN my heart!

It's short, sweet and has a charming art style that reminds me of Bone, one of my first ever (and favorite) graphic novels.

I 100% recommend you read the whole thing adskuhfaisfasgfkauyegfkjdshfk I may do a more finished drawing, or a daily doodle based on this au-- it's so good

also please ignore me accidentally reblogging the second page that was terribly embarrassing.

PAGE ONE NEXT->

Here is a short comic that I’m finally making (after all these years) of @audaciousanonj ‘s changling au from the pap chat logs on ao3 !! was reminded of this au by a dear mutual so…here we go babey.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11021085 here is the original !

[boimann]

comic 7 spoilers

ok i have a lot of thoughts about comic 7 and i need to ramble a bit or i'll go mad, this post is just to get those thoughts out of my head so read it as me screaming into the void, also these are just my opinions you can 100% disagree with me just please don't yell at me ;_;

i didn't like it, don't get me wrong i did like a few things in it but as a whole... :|

so starting off with the things i did like:

Miss flo pauling :D !!! she's awsome as always, i will always love her no matter what and i'm glad she didn't fall for the australium's temptation and got rid of it :]

SOLDIERS FAMILY!!! they are perfect no notes 10/10

buff merasmus, also perfect

✨heavy with a beard✨

and that's a wrap on the things i liked. what was supposed to be the big finale of this really cool story just ended with a whimper of a flashback...why?? i think the biggest issue i have with the whole comic is the fucking time skip, i honestly don't think it was necessary?? it feels like they just wanted to have a 7 years joke and i get they wanted to show were the mercs are at after the events of the comics but idk i think there could have been another way to show it :/

i especially didn't like what they did with scout, i love the idea of him being a good dad and basically the opposite of spy but idk going from him still basically being scout from the game saying he's moving on from miss p to him being a responsible dad feels really abrupt and it's all because of the timeskip because we skipped past all the development of him getting to that point. am i saying that we should have seen all of that development?? of course not because fitting it all in one issue would have been impossible but the way it is now it feels wrong ;_;

another thing i didn't like was that half of the mercs just didn't have any lines?? :[ it would have been so cool to see more of them or/and seeing them interact for example medic was litterally sided with the enemy for half of the last issue but i guess no one cares?? and i guess demo has nothing to say about his best friend being engaged?? or anything at all really, it was all so fast they forgot to give my man any lines (ﾉ´ｰ`)ﾉ

also didn't love spy taking off his mask because you know most of his character is being a misterious masked rogue but that scene with tanya was really sweet so it cancels out <3

so yeah this was all i could think of right now if i get anymore thoughts i will reblog this post and add them later, for now i will pretend that the comics end with the sixth issue and try not to think about it too much, i hope that anyone reading this post was able to enjoy the comic more than i did and again if you want to add your own thoughts please don't be mean bc i will cry (promise threat)

[spectral-phases]

A non-comprehensive guide to my cooking headcanons for the Batfam

I'll add comic panels to support myself when I feel like I'm going very much against the grain of fanon and have to defend my position a little.

Alfred: Master of the craft, learned to cook from French chefs and has been a professional chef as a cover while serving as a spy. He can make you croissants and puff pastry from scratch, but the waffle iron (every waffle iron, yes even that brand new fancy one that is supposed to be so easy to use) was designed in hell to torment him specifically. This may be because even God himself is jealous of Alfred's ability to master a recipe after only reading it once (never refers to it again while working), or watching the video once and so he was given an Achilles heal by the divine. He has a cookbook and personal recipes written down, but very rarely looks at them. He is not the best teacher, and he did not care for children or anyone else in the kitchen, but Martha Wayne was not having any of that, especially for Jewish holidays, and to date, the way he handles kids in the kitchen is his best approximation of how Martha taught Bruce how to cook, but he lacks the requisite patience because he learned how to cook from French chefs (Gordon Ramsey without the soft kids mode, but he's never screaming or yelling or cussing people out because he's refined).

He is allowed to cook in the kitchen by himself

The kitchen is his domain and he maintains the right to supervise as needed, with some exceptions

Select people can assist him, but he prefers to do the cooking by himself as its the only thing he adds to the family that they enjoy that isn't cutting off years of his life like medical treatment or running the comms is. He's also stupid fucking fast at it and good at cleaning as he goes, and its hard to have someone else in his very regulated and honed system without mucking it up

Bruce: Contrary to popular belief, the man can cook. Unfortunately, he can only do so if there is a written recipe to follow and it is written in the way that makes sense to his brain. Will read the recipe ahead of time for prep, but will miraculously forget that there is a 3 hour resting period if it is not at the top with the prep time and cook time. Please do not ask him to cook anything after watching a video, it does not stick. Has no sense of what spices do what, so if the recipe says we're using 2 tablespoons of ground cloves, then that's what we're doing. With a good recipe, he can make any food from around the world no matter how complex, however, even something as simple as a tuna salad, ham and cheese, or a PB&J sandwich needs a written recipe with exact amounts and instructions for him to get it done or he will mess it up in ways not even the devil himself could imagine. Look, he has an eidetic memory, but his brain just does not compute that way and he's alway second guessing himself without a written recipe. The only thing he can make from scratch without a recipe are his mother's latkes, but that is, of course, rarely made because of all the emotions, but sometimes he goes through it because he remembers how she had him make them and it feels like she's still there with him, whispering in his ear.

He and Alfred have both agreed to tell anyone who asks that he's not allowed to cook by himself in the kitchen because he will find a way to use three pots and every bowl to make hot chocolate (he will, as a matter of fact), but it's really because when he was younger, he was making a pan sauce that the recipe simply said to “reduce” and managed to burn it so badly it ruined a pan Alfred had inherited from his grandmother and Bruce cannot stomach the possibility of doing that again

He winds up cooking for real these days only if Alfred is injured, but can sit in the kitchen to help supervise (“No, Master Bruce, you'll need a much bigger pot for that”) and explain vague steps in the recipes ("Coat the back of a spoon means that...")(Alexa or other virtual assistants do not help)

Dick: Despite what his kitchen cabinets may suggest, he makes phenomenal food. He's just putting all his emotional energy into keeping his people alive so if he's on his own then odds are he's having take-out, eating a mix of cereal/granola bars/trail-mix/cartons of protein shakes, or maybe a frozen meal prepped thing from the last time he had the wherewithal and time to do so and is thusly freezer burned to shit. If he is making food for other people? Amazing. Delicious. His repertoire is mainly dishes from Eastern Europe or Southwest Asia, but he has to know what the soul of the meal is if he's making something new. Rarely consults written recipes (unless they're online and have the whole novel of where the recipe came from and what it means and all the pictures of how it's supposed to look at various stages, and he will read that and the ingredient list only), prefers videos, but only from grandmas and grandpas or POC, not the rich white frat boys.

He cooks in any kitchen where Alfred is not and will not be present. You would be forgiven for thinking that he and Alfred could cook in the kitchen at the same time, especially since they can make the same dish with a reasonably similar flavor profile. The fact of the matter is, they both are very much type A personalities (even if Dick likes to pretend he's a type B) and if they are both present during the cooking process they will be at each other's throats constantly about their different methods, even if they are getting to the same destination in the end

Cass: Subsists mostly off of what she can find or what others feed her. She can cook a few simple dishes but they’re not mind blowing. She does make a phenomenal assistant, but she had zero working knowledge of what does what coming into the picture and has been gradually learning. Has learned how to work the waffle iron from Steph, and so is in charge of waffles for breakfast. Waffles has become her thing and everyone lets her have it. She can even make stuffed waffles these days.

Alfred is happy to leave all waffle breakfast adventures in the manor to Cass, she's very polite in the kitchen and doesn't make a huge mess, she'll even clean as she goes so it doesn't interfere with whatever else he is making

She is Alfred's favorite assistant (the rare times that he actually wants one) because she doesn't take his irritation personally because she can see how its meant to be directed at himself and will do exactly as he says

Jason: It's important you know I headcanon his paternal grandmother as Italian (so she cannot be Ma Gunn) and his step-mother as Latina going into this. He can fucking cook like no one's business. He can taste something and recreate it nearly flawlessly. However, he was taught by his nonna and mamita to measure with his heart, so he was presented with measuring cups once and broke out into hives. Only God knows how much of any one ingredient makes it into anything he makes, this includes cakes and breads. The only recipes he's interested in learning are strictly videos from the grandmas and grandpas or POC (Jason has a rule, the shittier the camera quality, the better the food will be, usually). He watched one popular white frat boy cooking video exactly once and was screaming about why they have to dirty approximately sixteen thousand little bowls to measure out each spice by themselves (and that wasn't nearly enough garlic!). He technically has recipes written down by hand from his nonna and mamita, and a few he wrote himself to try and help Alfred understand some meals, they're just hidden away in a drawer that he rarely references for cooking guidance over looking at their handwriting (The set from his family was in the box of stuff the neighbor saved for him that had his birth certificate in it, and he is forever grateful to still have that stuff. He thought for sure it was gone for good). Approximately 80% of all his meals are cooked by him or someone else, even if it's just a quick scrambled eggs and toast.

Jason and Alfred do not coexist happily in a kitchen together. However, they do coexist because Alfred asked him once why he was doing things “that way” as a child and he said his Nonna did it that way and that shut Alfred the fuck up immediately

Jason does not accept help in the kitchen from anyone unless he's making dumplings of any variety or tamales and then everyone's helping put them together

Tim: He only started learning how to cook at the age of 15, so he doesn't have a wide base of experience to draw from or pre-existing knowledge. Tim has a few staple dishes he has learned how to make. It's good, but not winning any awards. However, his hang up is he needs to know exactly how and why things work the way they work in a recipe before he can actually be trusted to cook it on his own. He likes recipes from food scientists, hobbyists or professionals, because they are more likely to explain all the things he needs to know before he can go ahead and cook something more complex. He measures everything in grams, and had to get a scale with 10ths of a gram for spices, once made coffee with lab equipment just for the science of it. Someone got him The Food Lab by J. Kenji Lopez-Alt and it was a game-changer. There is no deity out there that can explain to you the recipes he writes down himself, because their ever changing shorthand only make sense in his brain. Like Dick, Tim does not often have the wherewithal to make complex foods for himself, and so has a bunch of jars of sauces/curries/soups or vacuum sealed pre-seasoned meals ready to go in a sous vide or pot in the freezer to break out as needed. Often freezer-burned because of how little he is at his own place.

Tim is only allowed to cook in the manor's kitchen with supervision because he is likely to make disastrous experiments if left curious and unattended ("I know it's usually done this way, but…" is either going to lead to some delicious food, or an explosion. No way to know for sure unless you're there watching it happen live). What happens in his home kitchen is between him and God

He can make himself useful as an assistant if needed, but usually only for Dick because only he has the patience to put up with Tim in the kitchen

Damian: Has forced himself to learn to cook competently. Will not let himself be outdone by the others, but has learned from all of them. When he's older, he could whip up a Michelin star quality dinner with plating, but doesn't find it worth the effort unless he is trying to impress someone or prove he can. Opts for simple and nutritious meals on the rare occasion he is responsible for his own meals and has the time/desire to cook. Does he measure? Only exactly for baked goods, he will never admit it, but he has no idea how Jason can make baked goods without measuring. There are two things he knows how to make on his own as easy as breathing beyond eggs: Martha Wayne's latkes and Talia's karak chai.

Damian will only cook in the manor if it is more prudent to do so and everyone else there cannot (It's the middle of a blizzard and Bruce and Alfred are sick). Regardless, he is allowed to cook unsupervised in the manor when he's old enough for that to be reasonable.

Will help Alfred but complain the whole time, despite obviously enjoying the time spent with Alfred

Look, he's either helping someone else make something, or he's on his own. Does not care for assistants as he feels like he is constantly being judged.

Barbara: Can cook, will cook, and does cook. She uses slow-cookers and sous vide usually, because she needs something she can throw into a pot and then have to run away from for hours at a time at a moments notice without having to juggle it too. Otherwise it's a microwaved meal. Everything in her kitchen has been fit to accommodate her cooking in her wheelchair and when she's got the time and is really feeling up to it, she can cook a very amazing meal on the stove just for herself or anyone else she's having over.

Will only accept help in the kitchen from Cass or Steph because they are laid back enough to put up with

Steph: Can she cook? Yes. Does she love cooking? No. Cooking is a chore to her and it does not have the payoff she needs to engage with it more than absolutely necessary. She'll look through her pantry and declare that she doesn't have anything good because everything she has was bought when she had more ambition to cook than she currently possesses and then order door dash. The easiest way to get her to cook is to tell her that she's not allowed to. That said, she really loves to bake. She's not winning any awards for her presentation, but it tastes amazing.

Would rather clean dishes than help cook because she does not have the energy to put up with the way the others are while cooking

I haven't read much with Kate, Duke, Helena, or Harper in it, so I don't have anything for them.

[hop-a-lot]

PLEASE PLEASE YOU NEED TO READ TF2 7th COMIC THERE ARE SOME SAXBIDWELL MOMENTS IN THERE AS WELL AS SAXTON MOMENTS

IM HYPING OUT AT EVERY SAXTON MOMENTS OKok saxwell moment is like in their breakup arc once again boohoo BUT I CAN IMAGINE THEY RAISE OLIVIA LIKE DAUGHTER

[black-but-mildly-sunny]

Please there's Colossus - depending what year you read from was raised in the Soviet Union on the ideals of communism who actively in one comic, God's Country, stated how everyone is used and influenced by propaganda....

The literal point of the X-Men when they were created was a representation of the minorities and the other people aren't the stereotypical white people!

(now you could argue that current themes are used for clout or to just garner attention for more readers and are just surface level and not really thought out, cause every industry does it - just jump on the newest biggest thing...which I personally see that happening, BUT the X-Men have always been the representation of the minorities and others in society and I really love that about them)

"X-men is becoming woke!" I'm sorry, have we been seeing the same series?

The main teacher is a disabled man who uses a wheelchair. The team has a powerful African lady who is literally called a god. In some universes, she is in an interracial relationship with Wolverine. The three most powerful members of the team are Jean, Storm, and Rogue, who are ALL women. Bishop is a smart and powerful black man. Forge is Native American and is super smart and builds cool futuristic tech stuff. One of the protagonists is a chinese-american girl whose love interest is a dark-skinned Latino dude. Mystique is literally gender fluid and married to a woman. Mystique also got the woman pregnant by giving herself a penis, which is how Kurt was born. Kitty Pryde is confirmed to be bisexual. Magick is confirmed to be bisexual. Iceman came out as a gay man. Wolverine dated the literal actually HERCULES in one comic. Deadpool has been confirmed by multiple writers (AND THE MOVIE) to be pansexual, and even has a (VIATNAMESE) nonbinary love interest in one comic. The entire series is about minorities living in a society that despises them.

But yeah, sure. Complain about Morph, a SEXLESS SHAPESHIFTER WHO WAS BARELY EVEN IN THE ORIGINAL SHOW, being nonbinary and having a crush on Wolverine.

Xmen has ALWAYS been woke. It's a metaphor for oppression and how anyone who differs from the societal norm is treated terribly. OF COURSE they're going to have queer characters in there 💀

[tf2heritageposts]

please tag your spoilers

[tyrianludaship]

my thought process while reading the tf2 comics: okay i am LOVING the admin lore and the pauling storyline but please for the love of god, can we get some focus on the mercs, medic and demo didn't get a single speaking line, and sniper only has like one. please valve, at least give mercs other than spy, soldier and scout something to do-

valve:

LITERALLY !

[chaoticedward]

comic 7....... oughh i actually feel fucking sick after reading it im so. i have so many thoughts. its over but also SO MANY DOORS ARE OPEN

please dont let this be the end valve PLEASE

[katy-133]

Relating to this, this is my interpretation on the comic's thumbnail:

(TF2 Issue 7 spoilers, please don't read this before finishing the comic) I think the idea is that, since the Administrator doesn't remember why she wanted revenge, the 3 beginning images of her as a child (I assume, given the dress is purple) crying over (I assume) her dead parents, represents her memory loss. In each iteration, they're dead through unnatural causes, but the result is the same: They died. She doesn't remember how it happened, just that it happened. It's very Dear Esther (a game where you replay a memory over and over, programmed with detail changes each time)--The human memory is a changing thing.

Team Fortress #7 - The Days Have Worn Away

[elainsgirl]

no cause im tired of everything.

I'm sick of people talking about gwyn like shes the most important character ever. like yall don't actually care about her. they only like her cause shes involved with a batboy which is ridiculous. ("pro gwyneth" like be so fr... we barely know anything about her??? Like I like gwyn but stop making stuff up about her and saying shes saving the world.) that girl didn't show any romantic feelings towards him, so stop forcing it. (not to mention they never talk about emerie... interesting)

why is azriel getting shipped with everyone?? "gwyn is azriel's mate!" "no, its eris" "no, its bryce" "no, its mor" "no, its rhys dead sister" I LAUGH SO HARD AT THESE CAUSE WHERE ARE YOU GETTING THIS FROM???? I bet if azriel breathes next to anyone, they will automatically assume its his mate! leave the guy alone, my gosh.

"his shadows hate elain" just shut up. like fr.

"elain can go to the spring court and be with tamlin while az gets with gwyn and lucien gets with vassa" BAHAHAHAHAH. bro i cant even say anything to this because its ridiculous.

"if az finds his real mate, he will leave elain in a hurry" BRO. why do you guys think this man world revolves around wanting a mate so badly???? yall think so low of him its weird. if he wanted a mate oh so badly... he wouldnt go for elain! get that in your dumb heads!

now with the bonus chapter (elain and az part) im iffy about it. its good at the start but rhys and az argument gave me the ick but I understand what he meant either way. I can see why people didnt like azriel here. but to call him entitled is just WILD! he wasnt wrong questioning the cauldron. like why is he having all these mate behaviors towards elain when she has a mate??? I'd question the cauldron, too. feyre was so real when she said "why not make them mates" because they lowk fit no matter what anyone says.

now this was really irks me. "3 brothers and 3 sisters is so cliche" cliche??? bestie- do you see what we are reading??? the answer to the riddle was "love" out of all things. shut up with that dumb excuse. we have never seen 3 brothers and 3 sisters yet- well I havent. im pretty sure most of you havent either. if you read the BOOKS, you will understand that sjm uses the word 3 a lot. this is just common sense, people love to twist stuff.

Now dont get me wrong, I'll go for elucien or elriel. I dont care. but these gwynriels made me dislike az and gwyn together. like I used to go along with it but now they force it so badly "READ THE BONUS CHAPTER" "DID YOU READ THE BONUS CHAPTER" "maKe suRe yOu rEad iT cArEfuLly" "he chuckled with her" "they glance at eachother" "az and gwyn are going to save the world together" "i hope nesta, emerie, gwyn and az leave and make their own court" < (I fr saw someone say something like this) sister... I literally cringe! just please stop.

btw elriels gwyn isnt evil. stop saying that.

im so sorry for this rant. it just had to be said.

lmfao the need to vent is so real. This fandom TESTS your patience at times.

I think one of my biggest annoyances with Gwynriel is the fact that Gwyn doesn’t even like Azriel that way. Instead of focusing on how far she’s come, her accomplishments etc everything seems to go back to Azriel. If you ever truly look At gwynriel theories and headcanons the focus is always on Az and Gwyn doesn’t have much of a story by herself, she doesn’t lead a story. She is a follower/tag along. I will always say this again and again: If she was that important to the point of having anything to do with the prisons, trove, TT/Gwydion she would have been introduced earlier on in the series. It’s that simple. She has nothing to do w the prison, Koshei or even the daggers/made objects. Everything about gwynriel is forced - from Gwyn and Az having feelings for each other to their plot. Barely anything of that ship makes sense when you truly start to unravel it.

Az is getting shipped with everyone except who he truly wants and thats just comical. I guarantee you, If Az interacted with any other woman - gwynriel shippers would split so fast and some will start shipping him with the new woman.

“His shadows hate elain” … why were they ready to strike Nesta all because she insulted elain? They also speak so can’t they literally just tell Az “hey man, we dont like elain”. Then part of this claim comes from the fact Elain made his shadows skitter which is something Az does himself.

I so want Elain to go to Spring and mention how she finds it stiffling/claustrophobic. Elain going to spring to live there is ignoring everything about her character and only focusing on the fact she likes flowers and by their own logic, Nesta should go to Day and Feyre to a more artistic court.

If Az soley wanted a mate and was so desperate for one - why on earth is he pining for someone WITH A MATE. It literally defeats the purpose of him getting a mate. Also its such a stilt to his character for him to want a mate and then get one. It doesn’t allow character growth and makes the idea of “mates” seem as a prize instead of this romantic connection. If he wanted a mate so badly, this man would be going after women with no mates. Not one that has a mate. The logic behind this arguement is so stupid,

Azriel’s bonus to me parallels Feyre’s whole scene where she questioned the cauldron because of Azriel. It was Sjms way of bringing it back and reminding us of it. Telling us “look! Another character is doubting elucien’s bond! Why is Az questioning the cauldron” etc. The only part of Azriel’s bonus where I got the ick aside from his and gwyns’ awkward conversation- is when he said Lucien doesn’t deserve Elain. I get where that statement was coming from but he isn’t someone to decide who deserves who. This is what doesn’t make sense: antis call Az entitled for simply WONDERING why Elain was given to Lucien, he hs made no move to break elucien up. He hs not forced anything onto Elain. He doesn’t dictate or control her interactions with Lucien, the fact he hadn’t planned a future for them either all show he is far from acting entitled. But eluciens needed a way to make Az seem bad and lucien better hence why latched onto this argument when it doesn’t make sense given what we know about Azriels character, his thoughts, actions and what he said in the bonus.

“3 sisters and 3 brothers is cliche” whilst reading a romantasy series ( a genre filled with repetitive cliches) by an author who claims to be the queen of cliches. Every single fated mates ending up together? Cliche. Omg the trainer and his trainee fell in love? How unique. Its not like that is also a popular trope. I cannot give you any book/s in which 3 sisters end w 3 brothers, I however can pull out multiple books with the fated mates/warriors/trainerxtrainee tropes.

Too bad. Mass loves the IC - There is no reason why Nesta/valkryies and Az would go to another court. Wait - but the night court is Azriels home. Its where he belongs, unlike Elain who has to leave…but now they want Az to leave too? One thing you can trust antis to do is be consistent with their inconsistencies. Honestly, I was open to the idea of gwynriel but genuinely none of their theories or HCs make sense. In a general sense gwynriel is a good ship sure but you can generally ship any two characters together from the series. It doesn’t mean it’s happening & they’ll be endgame.

Gwyn definitely isn’t evil. However I do think she has the potential to become morally grey which im all here for.

[madschiavelique]

Short little comic of the sillies i made on a road trip, was honestly harder than i thought ToT

I tried to make reader more plain looking so people can imagine themselves and their ocs🙏

I hope you like it!!!! this was so much fun to make and will definitely be making more of my favorite silly scenes :D

OMG PLEASE IM IN LOVE!!!!

viktor KNOWS he can’t get a single word of what he’s reading into his head like it’s literally impossible to concentrate AOUGH OBSESSED

LIKE IMAGINE THAT AFTER READER PULLED ON TYLER’S FUCKING TIE HE JUST INCESSANTLY TRIES TO LOOSEN HIS OWN JUST IN CASE READER WOULD GIVE HIM THE SAME TREATMENT AIUCKEKCJEKX

[the-ellia-west]

Goals for today:

PLEASE HOLD ME ACCOUNTABLE

Read the Bible

Work on the timeline some more

J&R relationships*

Finish SOME of my schoolwork

Art study

Reference Drawing*

Draw the minifig idiots more*

Ask Pastel/research how comic panels work

DON'T DIE

*Optional

@corinneglass @seastarblue @urnumber1star @darkandstormydolls @sunflowerrosy

@an-indecisive-nerd @thebookishkiwi @tiredpapergirl @vesanal