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#the architect of this cage

bmodiwrites · 1 year

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After the Battle of Star Court, Steve finds himself floundering. He's losing sleep and his mind without a solution in sight. As luck would have it, Steve stumbles upon a sign for art therapy classes. Not knowing they're going to change his life, Steve signs up. Fast forward a few months and Steve is apprenticing at a tattoo shop in Hawkins when his very existence gets turned upside down again. Can a flock of bats really bring two people together? Or are Eddie and Steve just that meant to be? Read chapter 1 to find out what Steve makes of his life when Eddie comes walking back into it.

Eager hands brought the book down where they both could see it. Her eyes flicked across the page, then grew two sizes wider. Before Steve could ask what she thought, Robin dragged the sketch pad a little closer to her face, looking at all the small details.

“This is a legit comic strip. Very badass of you, Steve. You made me into a hero!” Robin’s face was split open wide with an overwhelming smile.

Steve took the book back from her gently, flipping through a handful of the pages until he got to the beginning of the strip. He leaned in so Robin could see the sketches, too. “I’ve done eight panels so far. I’m putting you through every adventure I can think of. Seeing how you fare.”

“No shit. This is legit. Like, really good – “ Robin sounded breathless, almost as if she was impressed. “I knew you were taking art classes… but I didn’t expect you to be this talented. Or expressive.”

“I fell in love with the way shutting off and putting pencil to paper made me feel. When I’m not at work or with you, I’m drawing something. Aside from my natural talent,” Steve said, slapping the book jokingly, “I’ve had a lot of practice.”

“Steve, I’m impressed. Could you make this into a weekly thing? I like the idea of having a series drawn in my honor.” And though she meant those words as they were, Steve heard the affection they carried, too. She didn’t need to say she was moved for Steve to know she was. The way her eyes hadn’t left the page spoke the truth loudly enough. Or maybe their friendship was that easy to navigate. Steve didn’t doubt Robin a single bit.

She was his hero. Robin had to know that.

Read all of chapter 1 on AO3!

Tagging (please let me know if you want to be added to the taglist for chapter 2 by comment below!): @writer-in-theory, @zerokrox-blog, @whatthefuccck, @patchworkgargoyle

#steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve harrington/eddie munson #steve x eddie #steve/eddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddie fics #steddie au #tattoo artist steve #musician eddie #chapter 1 on ao3 #ao3 #bobbie writes #the architect of this cage

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valorums · 6 months

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RELATIONSHIP DYNAMIC TAGS

╰──➢ ⠀the crowning jewel of the republic ⠀⠀ ✧ ⠀⠀ 𝑽𝑰𝑺𝑼𝑨𝑳𝑺

╰──➢ ⠀songbird trapped in a gilded cage⠀⠀ ✧ ⠀⠀ 𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑪𝑨𝑵𝑶𝑵𝑺

╰──➢ ⠀all i ask of you⠀⠀ ✧ ⠀⠀ 𝑨𝑺𝑲𝑩𝑶𝑿 𝑹𝑬𝑺𝑷𝑶𝑵𝑺𝑬

╰──➢ ⠀wishing you were somehow here again⠀⠀ ✧ ⠀⠀ 𝑨𝑺𝑲𝑩𝑶𝑿 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑷𝑻𝑺

╰──➢ ⠀this is the queue of no return⠀⠀ ✧ ⠀⠀ 𝑸𝑼𝑬𝑼𝑬

╰──➢ ⠀far too many notes for my taste ⠀⠀ ✧ ⠀⠀ 𝑺𝑪𝑹𝑰𝑷𝑻𝑼𝑹𝑬𝑺

╰──➢ ⠀why have you brought me here? ⠀⠀ ✧ ⠀⠀ 𝑫𝑨𝑺𝑯𝑩𝑶𝑨𝑹𝑫 𝑮𝑨𝑴𝑬

╰──➢ ⠀it’s over now; the music of the night ⠀⠀ ✧ ⠀⠀ 𝑨𝑹𝑪𝑯𝑰𝑽𝑬𝑫

╰──➢ ⠀a hot mess inside a dumpster fire inside a trainwreck ⠀⠀ ✧ ⠀⠀ 𝑶𝑼𝑻 𝑶𝑭 𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑹𝑨𝑪𝑻𝑬𝑹

╰──➢ ⠀gaslight. gatekeep. girlboss. ⠀⠀ ✧ ⠀⠀ 𝑶𝑹𝑰𝑮𝑰𝑵𝑨𝑳 𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑲

╰──➢ ⠀we’ll go from there ⠀⠀ ✧ ⠀⠀ 𝑫𝒀𝑵𝑨𝑴𝑰𝑪 𝑴𝑼𝑺𝑰𝑵𝑮𝑺

╰──➢ ⠀i make my own sunshine ⠀⠀ ✧ ⠀⠀𝑴𝑼𝑺𝑰𝑵𝑮𝑺

╰──➢ ⠀press conferences with secretary valorum⠀⠀ ✧ ⠀⠀ 𝑷𝑼𝑩𝑳𝑰𝑪𝑰𝑻𝒀

╰──➢ ⠀some things never change ⠀⠀ ✧ ⠀⠀𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑪𝑨𝑳𝑳

( 𝑬𝑿𝑪𝑳𝑼𝑺𝑰𝑽𝑬 𝑼𝑵𝑰𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑬 / dooku’s protégé ) ⠀⠀ ଽ ⠀⠀even the shadows are worthy of love ⠀⠀—⠀⠀fallesto

( 𝑬𝑿𝑪𝑳𝑼𝑺𝑰𝑽𝑬 𝑼𝑵𝑰𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑬 / house serenno’s lost heiress ) ⠀⠀ ଽ ⠀⠀once upon a december ⠀⠀—⠀⠀fallesto

( 𝑬𝑿𝑪𝑳𝑼𝑺𝑰𝑽𝑬 𝑼𝑵𝑰𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑬 / prophetic and dyadic ) ⠀⠀ ଽ ⠀⠀the redeemer and her chosen one ⠀⠀—⠀⠀forcenexus

( 𝑨𝑳𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑵𝑨𝑻𝑬 𝑼𝑵𝑰𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑬 / force sensitive ) ⠀⠀ ଽ ⠀⠀force suppressed⠀⠀—⠀⠀canon divergent

( 𝑨𝑳𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑵𝑨𝑻𝑬 𝑼𝑵𝑰𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑬 / modern ) ⠀⠀ ଽ ⠀⠀first daughter of the united states⠀⠀—⠀⠀canon divergent

( 𝑴𝑨𝑰𝑵 𝑼𝑵𝑰𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑬 / the phantom menace ) ⠀⠀ ଽ ⠀⠀first daughter of the galactic republic⠀⠀—⠀⠀canon compliant

( 𝑴𝑨𝑰𝑵 𝑼𝑵𝑰𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑬 / the clone wars ) ⠀⠀ ଽ ⠀⠀the republic’s greatest hope⠀⠀—⠀⠀canon compliant

( 𝑴𝑨𝑰𝑵 𝑼𝑵𝑰𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑬 / rise of the empire ) ⠀⠀ ଽ ⠀⠀architect of the republic’s demise⠀⠀—⠀⠀canon compliant

( 𝑴𝑨𝑰𝑵 𝑼𝑵𝑰𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑬 / rebellion sympathizer ) ⠀⠀ ଽ ⠀⠀the twice condemned traitor⠀⠀—⠀⠀canon compliant

( 𝑴𝑨𝑰𝑵 𝑼𝑵𝑰𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑬 / resistance general ) ⠀⠀ ଽ ⠀⠀never underestimate the elderly⠀⠀—⠀⠀canon compliant

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missmachiavelli · 1 year

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“You thought I gave you a hand

So you could stab me in the back

But there were too many knives in it for that.”

youtube

#cage #chris palko #hip hop #timeless #hells winter #kill the architect #Youtube

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brainpoisoncontrol · 10 months

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youtube

my skull and bones faced unholy odds i'm a 33 degree mason of stony lodge

#cage #merry mithras #kill the architect #sam hill #Youtube

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pucksandpower · 1 year

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Charles Leclerc Masterlist

Written Fics

A Crime Against Fashion

All Locked Up

Bet on It

Blackmail Material

Blow Out the Candles

Boop!

Borrowed Time

Brake Balance

Breaking Point

Changing Lanes

Danger Noodles

Daydream

Eurovisionaries

Fairytale

Family Feud

Fit for a Queen

Gilded Cage

Head Over Heels

Hydrate or Diedrate

Inked

Lessons in Anatomy

Live Like We Want To

Lover

Made with Love

Man’s World

Mesaytara

Never Have I Ever

Newsflash

Ours to Protect

Prove Them Wrong

Roll the Dice

Ruin You

Sink or Swim

Sleepyhead

Something Sweet

The Center Cannot Hold

Theories of Relativity

Ties That Bind

Time to Kill

Under the Influence

Use Your Words

Your Friend Steve

Social Media AUs

In My Blood (series with Senna!Reader)

architect!Reader

author!Reader

black!Reader

Brazilian!Reader

celebrity crush!Reader

CEO!Reader

college student!Reader

crazy rich!Reader

endurance driver!Reader

fashion designer!Reader

fan!Reader

Ferrari driver!Reader

Ferrari engineer!Reader

Ferrari team principal!Reader

footballer!Reader

girlfriend!Reader

Horner!Reader

Måneskin!Reader

model!Reader

nepo baby!Reader

Newey!Reader

newlywed!Reader Part I

newlywed!Reader Part II

New Year’s Edition

pop star!Reader

pop star!Reader II

Princess of Monaco!Reader

pr manager!Reader

protective!Reader

revenge era!Reader

royal!Reader

Sainz!Reader

scandalous!Reader

shameless!Reader

single mother!Reader

socialite!Reader

Vettel!Reader

widow!Reader

wife!Reader

Wolff!Reader

Wolff!Reader II

Wolff!Reader x Max Verstappen

#pucksandpower masterlist #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #f1 instagram au #f1 social media au

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hussyknee · 5 months

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Libs are like, "YOU CAN'T LET TRUMP WIN JUST BECAUSE BIDEN IS COMMITTING A GENOCIDE! THIS IS NOT THE TIME FOR SINGLE-ISSUE VOTERS", when the fact is that people are already really fucking angry at him for funding two wars during a severe cost of living crisis. Biden's pet dog has already gotten Israel and the US embroiled in a steadily escalating conflict with Houthis and Hezbollah in Syria and Lebanon, and now Netanyahu is trying to ethnically cleanse two million Gazans by pushing them out of the country into Egypt, one of the countries the US gives billions of aid money to make nice with Israel and help them trap the Palestinians. Egypt is already mad about this (although Idk what they expected lol) and if Israel creates a border conflict with them, Iran might press their advantage and then the whole region descend into an all-out war in which the US is embroiled. At which point oil prices will jump, the US economy get even worse, more tax money funnelled into TWO wars, one of which is due to the genocide.

People might not care about Muslims living thousands of miles away, but they have some very strong opinions about putting food on the table. At this point there's a pretty significant shift in the Black community towards Trump because Biden has INCREASED funding for police, is supporting Cop City that someone DIED protesting, and hasn't made a dent in mass incarceration (the marijuana pardon was fucking hilarious in a depraved way). The right has also been weaponizing Black people's resentment against Latino "illegal aliens" and Biden's "concessions" towards them, when actually his immigration policies have barely been less draconian than Trump's all this time. The reason he's making those concessions is that he has to look more progressive than him, except he's also been slowly escalating ICE crackdowns, keeping kids in cages and building a border wall. So the Latin voters are entirely fed up with him too.

So far, he's lost the Muslim vote, the Latin vote, the Black vote, the youth vote (people of ages 18 to 35 are the most outraged at the genocide in Gaza), and they're hemorrhaging the working class votes. These are the extremely angry and betrayed people the liberals are currently working overtime screaming at about Trump "bringing the death of democracy", like democracy means anything to them compared to losing jobs, money, visas, family members, health (Biden's first and ongoing genocide is disabled people due to his COVID policies), social infrastructure and money.

Y'all said Blue Not Matter Who and elected a career racist and known incompetent who supported segregation, was an architect of mass incarceration, got Clarence Thomas elected to the Supreme Court and spewed rhetoric against Arabs so genocidal that motherfucking Menachem Begin was like "....bro." And you got exactly what you paid for. If Trump gets on the ticket next year he's going to win, and no amount of screaming at people online is going to change that. So I suggest you start organising now. The age of trying to create a revolution at the ballot box is over.

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wri0thesley · 11 months

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canicular - yandere kaveh x fem!reader x yandere alhaitham (6.8k)

it's a tough lesson to learn.

cw: yandere. mentions of past dub-con, non-con (non-explicit), physical punishment. abuse. reader is referred to by feminine pronouns.

this was a commissioned work.

If there is one thing you are not short on, it is time.

Though Alhaitham provides what he thinks are stimulating ways to pass your existence, you do not often feel inclined to read the thick tomes of Sumeru history or ancient language studies that he leaves on the table for you. Nor do you have any inclination towards the other hobbies he has tried to get you to pick up, in order to keep your hands busy and your brain exercised - what desire have you to do a jigsaw puzzle or a book of word games when you feel like a caged tiger, pacing uselessly back and forth with no end in sight?

Kaveh, at least, tries to get you to occupy your long hours with things that are transporting. His own pencils and papers and paints (a sad smile on his face when he caresses your cheek and sighs and says ‘why don’t you try drawing where you would rather be?’). Alhaitham tries to improve you; to mould you into what he expects you to be and what he wants you to be and what he thinks you ought to be.

Kaveh, at least, sees you as something human, with human needs and human feelings and human wants. Wants that are not half an hour of cursory sunshine so you do not develop a Vitamin D deficiency, not a meal chosen entirely for nutritional properties and not how it might taste in your mouth (Alhaitham is not a cook - you always prefer Kaveh’s meals, though the Scribe clicks his tongue and says things about how there’s no health benefits to the nostalgic desserts that Kaveh tries to get Alhaitham to let him make for you).

Kaveh sees in you the human need for companionship and sympathy and something other than Alhaitham’s blank face when you rage at him and sob and pound on his chest and demand he let you go home. Something other than Alhaitham’s insistence that this is better for you; that he is a good master, that your life is simpler and more suitable now, that he is simply putting the world to rights by taking you as his-- his pet, his dog, his slave, his lover--

What are you truly, again? Other, of course, than his?

In lieu of being Alhaitham’s dog in need of training, when you can, you gravitate to the architect - who wouldn’t, when your other option is a man who watches you cry and replies only with: “And what are you hoping to gain from your tears, exactly?”? And Kaveh, in return, gives you his own sympathy and his sighs and a stroke of your hair that has no hidden meaning at all, you’re sure, but his desire to comfort.

If sometimes you let him take you, after all of the comfort - if you spread your legs for him and sigh and nose against his neck and murmur soft sweet appreciation - that is neither here nor there. You have such precious little opportunity to make decisions for yourself, so why should you not? You tell yourself fiercely, with your mouth wine-stained with Kaveh’s lips, that you would make the same decision were you not a prisoner. Kaveh is the kind of man you would have sought out for yourself, you decide. And he never takes advantage; never makes the first move, waits for your sniffles and hesitant kisses and shaking hand as it traces the elegant line of his collarbone.

But Kaveh is not always home. Kaveh goes into the desert, works for weeks on a project somewhere else in Sumeru wherever his architectural genius is summoned, and leaves you to the untender mercies of the man who caused all of the heartache in the first place.

Alhaitham is never later than ten minutes after work (and on those occasions, his normally calm face has a twitch of fury about it). He never forgets what time he has set your meals for, never forgives an order that has gone unfulfilled (and you have the marks over buttocks and thigh and back to prove that), never lets you answer back or skip out on one of his ordained rituals for your health. He is a constant; a knife that carves out your life, ever sharpened and ever ready.

You practically throw yourself at Kaveh when he returns, if you have been alone with Alhaitham too long. Bury your head in his neck and sigh about how you missed him the moment that you can get him alone, smile and thank him with earnest words when he produces some treasure he saw whilst he was out and about and gifts it to you (they are never lavish gifts; Kaveh does not have the Mora to spare. But a fresh Zaytun peach or a Sumeru Rose plucked from the wildest parts of your nation is a treasure to you nonetheless, when your life is a narrow square of home-and-garden you are not permitted to leave).

. . . It is easier to force yourself not to notice the way Kaveh’s golden eyes catch yours after the gift, as if he is waiting for and expecting the kiss that you press onto his lips as a thanks that never seems to end at just a kiss.

Kaveh’s comforts do not come often enough, in your opinion. Certainly their number does not match up to that of Alhaitham’s firm commands - his lips on yours, his hand on the top of your head forcing you to your knees, his insistent quizzing on the book he left for you today that you have not so much glanced at, his carefully marked schedules of when you should eat and when your period is due and all of the other minutiae of life you had never stopped too long to consider before.

In the past, you had not needed to dwell on these things. You had daydreamed some, of course, of some loving faceless significant other who might hand-feed you slices of Harra Fruit and write you poetry and curl against you until you felt like the two of you were one - but you had always had faith that this would come for you. Perhaps when you least expected it, a fanciful fairytale dropped from the sky into your waiting lap--

You had not reckoned on Alhaitham.

If nothing else, he has provided you with plenty of hours to daydream. An endless yawning, stretching chasm of a future that you try to fill with the paints Kaveh brings you, with constant machinations about an escape route. Sometimes when you imagine leaving, you are hand in hand with a blond man with a smile like a fresh flower blooming, feather haphazardly stuck in his hair, a promise to somehow find enough Mora to build a pretty little cottage in the middle of nowhere where one does not have to worry about stern silver-haired scholars.

You have the time.

Summer in Sumeru is difficult at the best of times. Under Alhaitham’s captivity (you never think of it as Alhaitham-and-Kaveh, so certain are you that the architect would free you if only Alhaitham were not in the picture), it is even worse. You can no longer open the door and stroll out into the Grand Bazaar, where the air is darker and cooler. You can no longer stop off at some merchant or another to buy a cool treat, take a dip in one of the lakes if you so feel like it - all you can do is try and find the shadiest spot in the locked house, lie upon your back and wish for a breeze or two.

“You shouldn’t stay there all day,” Alhaitham says, reproach evident in his voice, when he comes home at seven minutes past five in the afternoon like he always does. “Your muscles will atrophy.”

You sigh in response, long used to the fact that if you argue he will twist your words around until you’re sure of nothing - if you argue too much, you’ll lose some other privilege you hadn’t realised was a privilege until Alhaitham had taken it away.

(Once it had been hot water that you’d had removed, and Alhaitham had stood in the bathroom with you as cold water drenched your hair and your body and gooseflesh broke out along your skin, his face unmoving despite your nakedness. You know that he does, at least, hold some attraction to your naked form - the fact he had not let even a flicker of desire cross his face as you shivered and shuddered there was testament to his insistence you must learn your place. Actually, though, right now, you do not think a cold shower would be a punishment. It sounds rather nice, even if Alhaitham is there to watch you with calm inexpressive eyes.)

“It would be cruel,” you say instead, “to leave a dog in these conditions all day.”

He prefers this kind of reasoning; a debate, and not an argument. If you stay calm and even and you appeal to logic, you might have a chance of survival.

“There are some folding-fans in one of the drawers,” he says. “A present from one of the Inazuman clients Kaveh worked for, I think.”

“Surely they would just blow hot air back in my face?” You ask him. He considers for a moment, looking at you on the floor where you have not moved. You are in one of the loose robe-like garments you are permitted to wear around the house (far less chance of you trying to escape, Alhaitham reasons, if you feel indecent - he has not bargained on the fact that at this point you would run naked through Sumeru City if it means breaking out of his oppressive regime), thighs bare, neckline pulled as far apart as it can go so what little air there is can touch your sweat slicked skin.

“What would you prefer?” He asks, with a note of warning in his voice that most people would not pick up on. You must tread carefully.

“Leave the window open a crack,” you suggest. “Not enough for me to get out. Just . . . enough for a breeze. So that I don’t feel the air around me is pushing down on me until I suffocate.”

“Hyperbole,” he says. “You cannot suffocate on air.”

You bite your tongue. The request shimmers in the air for a few moments, a tangible thing - Alhaitham weighs up the pros and the cons.

“No,” he says, and the thread of hope you hadn’t realised you were holding snaps. “Not whilst I’m out. Not whilst nobody is here to watch you.”

Any response you might have made dies on your lips as a key clatters in the door and it opens, a long-limbed elegant body tumbling through in record time. Kaveh always enters like this; as if he is afraid that if he takes longer than a moment, shouts will rise up around Sumeru City and mock him and his secret will be splashed across every noticeboard in town. Kaveh pretends he does not live here, because he is an important man who should be doing better. You pretend you do not live there because you are still holding your own home in your heart - your own garden of flowers and fruits, your own shelf of books and your own hobbies and things strewn across surfaces.

Alhaitham does not pretend; he merely avoids speaking to anyone about his home life. You had been as surprised as him when Kaveh had unlocked his door and walked in to see what the thumping and muffled noises emanating from Alhaitham’s room were, and had come across you. Alhaitham had not mentioned a roommate to you even before your captivity, and Alhaitham had not mentioned a pet human to Kaveh at any point in time or given any indication this was the kind of thing he would do.

“Oh, you poor thing,” Kaveh had said, immediately upon seeing you, crouching down next to you, his hand hovering by the gag wedged into your mouth. “I . . . did Alhaitham do this to you?”

You’d nodded tearfully, and Kaveh’s eyebrows had knitted into sympathy. You recognised him only vaguely, but you did at least see the emotions flittering across his handsome, open face - so much more than you’d ever gotten from Alhaitham. Even when he’d unceremoniously locked you in his bedroom and you’d screamed yourself hoarse into a gag and rubbed your wrists sore on the rope, Alhaitham had done nothing more than raise an unimpressed eyebrow at you.

“I’m going to take the gag away,” Kaveh had said to you, at the time. “Please don’t scream.”

He had been so earnest in the request, and you had been so grateful to see somebody who was not Alhaitham and was clearly properly horrified by your predicament and was not treating it like it was perfectly normal, that you had nodded. Calm, clever fingers had worked beneath the wedge of cotton in your mouth and pried it spit-slicked from between your lips.

“Can you speak?” He’d asked, and when you’d tried and you had not managed to get out more than a wheeze he had fetched you a glass of water and held it to your parched lips.

“I can’t untie you,” he’d said, helplessly, his gold eyes flitting to where the ropes had rubbed you raw. “Alhaitham would be . . . unhappy with me. But maybe I could try and loosen them? Move them higher up, so I can take care of the blood?”

You had thought that he must be some other prisoner of Alhaitham’s, back then. As he’d given you more sips of water and you’d hiccuped and grated out some of the story that had lead you here, and he’d nodded and made soft little noises of horror and understanding, as he’d cleaned the wounds and commiserate with you over what a brute Alhaitham was, even to him, the Scribe’s senior. He’d knuckled your bruises away so gently that you’d cried more, and admitted to him that you feared you would never feel a tender touch again.

“You poor thing,” Kaveh had repeated, looking at you with those pools of molten gold. “Don’t worry. You and I are comrades in arms. We’ll take care of one another as best we can.”

You know now that Kaveh’s predicament is not quite the same as yours - partly based on Kaveh’s own stubbornness and pride, instead of the unmoving unrelenting coldness of Alhaitham instead. But that first night, he firmly positioned himself as an ally. Had argued with Alhaitham when the Scribe had come back about how he could not gag you, could not tie you so tightly, could not leave you waterless and foodless in his bedroom all day. A knight in shining armour, you had thought - and the first thing you had done when your bonds were finally loosened was wrap your arms about the surprised blond and thank him.

“Anyone would have done the same,” he’d said, as you’d sobbed into his shoulder and Alhaitham had watched, lip curled at the corner, face unreadable. “Anyone with a heart.”

He’d held the embrace just a little too long.

“You’re home,” you say to Kaveh, back in the present, and you smile at him, a trembling, wavering thing. Sweat is beading on your brow. The brief rush of cool air that Kaveh lets in is a welcome change, and Alhaitham sighs as he walks towards the window. You notice which drawer he goes into - the tiny key that he produces from one of Kaveh’s many cubby-holes on the architect’s desk. Amongst rulers and tiny screwdrivers and silver-flashing scissors. Alhaitham allows the window to open the smallest crack - the one that looks out only into the garden, so nobody passing by might hear voices they do not expect coming from a house they know belongs to Alhaitham.

“I am,” he says, with a smile. “I brought you a present.”

“You’re spoiling her,” Alhaitham says mildly, as you turn your head to Kaveh. You hear the drawer click; another key turn. It is never so simple as ‘get a key from a drawer’. Alhaitham is not so foolish. “What has she done to deserve a present?”

“You don’t have to do things,” Kaveh argues. “It’s nice to have nice things!” You see now that he is holding a small bowl, the kind that the food stalls give out with food bought to travel with - he walks towards you with a smile on his face and holds it out. Inside of the little pale brown half-moon of a bowl are three scoops of some kind of frozen treat, and your mouth waters. You finally move from your spot on the floor to reach out for it.

“Say ‘thank you’,” Alhaitham says sharply, before your hands can close around it. “Or I’ll have it myself. No doubt he paid for it on my tab.”

Kaveh glares at him from under his pale brows but does not argue - you, with your throat dry and hot, babble out thanks to Kaveh and reach out again. Alhaitham clicks his tongue once more.

“Wait,” he tells you, command in his voice. “You’re not even going to ask me if you can have it?”

“Alhaitham--”

“She has to learn,” his voice is final, a rough lightning strike through the room, a man who has never wavered in his convictions. “A disobedient animal is no better than a wild one.”

“Please,” you say to Alhaitham, sensing that arguments are brewing, that tension is crackling. “Please may I have it.”

Green eyes catch yours and leave you hanging desperately and wordlessly for a moment. You dare not move. You wonder if he’s going to bring up you asking about the window, and use that as an excuse - or perhaps what a waste you’ve made of the day, how you should have made yourself move from the cool floorboards like you’re supposed to. You cannot breathe.

Alhaitham gives a wordless nod as he turns on his heel.

“I’m going to get out of my work clothes,” he says. “Have a cold shower. Make sure you behave, and we’ll go into the garden at dusk when it’s cooler.”

Shoulders untense. Kaveh smiles at you and holds out the bowl again. Your mouth waters as you reach for it - you barely notice that Kaveh does not relinquish the hold of his long fingers upon it until you’ve kissed him on the cheek and let him kiss you softly on the mouth in return. It does not seem important.

His own mouth tastes like the dessert, too. He did not have to wait to be brought it by some kind, sympathetic soul. He could have had as many servings as he liked.

You savour every spoonful.

You know your way around the house. You have earnt freedoms to be allowed to wander it at will - if you want to, you can go into the kitchen and fetch yourself something to eat (Alhaitham encourages that, in fact - as long as it is that you’re eating one of his approved foods). You can choose from the many tomes that line the walls, can sit in the living room or the study or on Alhaitham’s desk chair if that’s where you wish to be.

You cannot leave, of course.

Golden locks mock you wherever you look; some intricate, some simple, but none with a key you possess. You’ve seen Alhaitham with two keys to the front door - a cruel joke, when you are not even permitted one. The keys to the windows, to Alhaitham’s desk itself, to all of the drawers and the places you are not allowed to look sit side by side on Alhaitham’s keyring like sentinels guarding you from freedom.

You think about the open window, when Alhaitham cracks it just a little when he comes home. Stand by it and try and get some breeze; strain to hear the voices that are very far away, wondering what’s going on in the life you have abandoned like a missing jigsaw puzzle piece. Has the mould you had been battling with, beneath your own bedroom window, finally beaten you? The spider that dwells in your darkest bathroom corner started a family? Has post piled up on your doormat - letters that will go unanswered for who knows how long?

You have only one hiding place. One loose floorboard, in the very corner of Alhaitham’s room - Kaveh doesn’t go in there often, or you’re certain the architect would have noticed it. You keep some trinkets in there - a dried flower Kaveh had once put in your hair, a necklace he had given you made of cheap beads that he’d bought from some do-gooder selling them for charity.

(Alhaitham had seen you wearing it and pursed his lip; later on that night, when he’d taken you into the shower to wash your hair, he had unclipped it and dropped it into the wastepaper bin.

“It doesn’t suit you,” he’d said. “It will just break and the beads will scatter everywhere. There’s no reason to be giving you any presents right now.”

Whilst you’re sure he meant all of those things too, there’d been something else running through the current of his words; I don’t want you to wear anything that I don’t pick out for you. You’re mine, and if anyone were to collar you . . . it would be me.)

And, your greatest treasures of all - loose Mora, left about the house by Alhaitham and Kaveh. Alhaitham is always complaining about Kaveh dusting and tidying and moving money and not telling him where it has gone - sighing over Kaveh not paying enough attention to things. The idea that you would take it does not cross his mind. He doesn’t know about your hiding spot, so in his mind you’d have nowhere to keep it--

But, too, there is this.

You stay in his home all day, a mostly well-behaved prisoner. He provides you with nutrition and food and clothes. He provides you with attention (whether you want it or not). You have nowhere to go, nothing to buy, and not a single reason to have even a coin to yourself. What would you do with Mora?

It is one of the places his rationality fails him.

In both small and large denominations, you have more than enough Mora to make it to Liyue, Mondstadt, and far away from Sumeru stashed away on a boat to the island nation of Inazuma, where even Alhaitham (you’re certain) could not drag you from your new life.

Kaveh is the one who gives you the opening, in the end. He and Alhaitham have an argument in the early morning - from your position wrapped in Alhaitham’s sheet, you half-listen. It’s about you. It often is. Kaveh is trying to argue with Alhaitham about how he should be allowed to take you out with him into the garden in the morning, that the one half-hour of sunlight is not enough and perhaps you and Kaveh could even cultivate a little flower-patch out there, to give you something to do--

It’s a well-worn argument, one that Alhaitham always wins. Kaveh is not responsible enough to be in sole charge of you outside, Alhaitham says. He spoils you too much. You smile into your pillow as you imagine that little cottage once more, of tending to a garden with Kaveh--

Kaveh slams the door on the way out. Alhaitham comes back to you to rouse you from bed, sighing over Kaveh, scolding you for not getting up yourself - he, too, is distracted by the argument, and that distraction does not ease. He is working from home today, he tells you, so the window can be cracked all day.

At seven in the evening, the window has still not been closed, and Alhaitham has pulled you onto his lap to read with you perched there. At eight in the evening, Alhaitham grits his teeth that Kaveh hasn’t come back yet and tells you he is going to the tavern to drag his ungrateful roommate home--

And he leaves with the window still cracked.

At quarter past eight, Kaveh is dragged into the room smelling of wine and Alhaitham follows him in, sullen as ever. He still does not notice the cracked open window, as he drags Kaveh into the bathroom and commands him to brush his teeth, to splash himself with cold water and pull himself together.

The window has not been seen to. The drawer that he had put the window key back into remains unlocked.

When Alhaitham returns to the main room, you pretend to be worried over him. You ask if there’s anything you can do, framing it as a kind of shaking fear the Scribe may take out his frustrations on you, and you let Alhaitham take you into his bedroom to work off the stress.

You stare into the empty space behind his shoulder while he’s inside of you and think about slipping through the open window and out into the world again.

The next morning, Alhaitham chances a gaze at the window and nods to himself when he sees it - for all intents and purposes, locked. You’d shimmied the frame up painstakingly slowly last night when you’d murmured about needing the bathroom, hoping he wouldn’t remember. He’d grumbled in his sleep but had not protested.

He leaves the same time he always does - Kaveh, slumped in his own bedroom from the hangover, stays where he is.

And you hold the unlocked window like a secret flame in the candle of your heart.

You still do not dare do anything until an hour after Alhaitham has left, terrified that he will return and you will be punished horribly for daring to think escape would be possible. But as time ticks on, and the sun rises higher in the sky, you begin to convince yourself that this is all going to be fine.

You go into the living room and to the window. It leads out into the garden, but that is fine; you can scale a fence. That is no difficult task after everything else you’ve been through. You test it, wiggling it open just a crack, and a light breeze hits your heated face as excitement begins to rise in your bones.

Back into Alhaitham’s rooms to go beneath the floorboards and take your little pouch of Mora, heavy in your hand as you tie it with cord around your waist. You do not have a bag, and your flimsy robe has no pockets - but those are things to be thought of later. Perhaps you will take some well-worn dress from a washing line, where it dries in the wind. Perhaps you can spare a few coins for something that does not show off the ample curves of your body so much. You can allow yourself, now, to think of those things.

Content, you open the window wider. You let yourself linger there in front of the window for longer, fresh air on your face and the promise of escape playing a siren’s melody. This time tomorrow, you will be free.

You look towards Kaveh’s bedroom and smile.

So will he.

All of those dreams you’ve had can be made reality; you will both find yourself out from beneath Alhaitham’s thumb with a future stretching ahead of you, together. You can repay Kaveh for his kindness - can sometimes be the one to bring him a gift of flowers or fruits or a beautiful leaf on the ground. You can walk hand in hand with him and this will be but a distant memory.

You rap softly on his door.

“Kaveh?” You call into the crack of the hinge. “Are you awake?”

Kaveh mumbles your name. Stirring from within his room, as he moves about it, a murmured response that he’ll be out as soon as he’s decent - you can barely wait. Unrestrained tension fizzes through all of your veins, excitement and pleasure and anticipation. You let yourself imagine him boosting you out of the window, both of you laughing as you tumble onto the grass beneath the windowsill--

His door opens and he stands there, dark shadows beneath his eyes and his hair more ruffled than usual but the kind smile that you have grown so fond of firmly on his face.

“I have something to show you,” you tell him, tugging his arm. “Come on, come with me!”

“Is it a new painting?” He asks, mildly, letting himself be dragged along with that smile still on his face. “Ah, have you found another lovely tale in one of those books you want to read to me? I do adore you, you know--”

You pull him into the living room and, with a bright, optimistic look on your face, motion to the wide-open window where the wispy white curtains are fluttering in the breeze.

Kaveh does not speak for a time.

He swallows.

You can see his thoughts racing behind his eyes and you mistake them for fear; trepidation of a life with nothing. But that’s alright; you have made provisions for such things!

You jingle the Mora, as those sharp golden eyes move from you to the window and back again.

You give him a hopeful smile, all bright eyes and idealism that you’ve always thought he’d share with you. Freedom calls; a life away from Alhaitham. “We can leave,” you say. “We can go out through the window! A whole future, Kaveh, together--!”

Kaveh is still not smiling back at you.

“I--I’ve thought of everything,” you say, falling over your words as Kaveh does not immediately fall upon your open escape route. “We can go to Inazuma, I have enough Mora, we can put as much distance between us as possible and you . . . architects are needed everywhere, we might have to sleep rough a while and I know you’re not that used to it and it might seem scary but we could get a little cottage together and a g-garden and . . .”

You tail off as Kaveh’s gaze stays trained on you, pitying, sympathetic. He should be delighted. He should be pleased. He’s looking at you the way that Alhaitham looks at him, when Kaveh gets started on one of his talks about how everyone in the world is good at their core. You have always agreed with him - mostly.

(“Present company excluded,” Kaveh had said once, waving a hand, wine glass in his grasp, at Alhaitham. You had laughed, and Alhaitham had made you bend over his knee and spanked you hard upon your rear ten times as Kaveh silently watched).

“Stay calm,” Kaveh says softly. “Step away from the window, darling. Let’s talk about this instead.”

Dawning comprehension settles about you like the hot summer air.

It seems a foolish thing not to have realised before all of this - you suppose, in Kaveh’s sweet soft smiles and cooing gentle voice and his whirlwind way of coming and going, you have never stopped to think about it. Your voice comes out dry as old paper.

“You’ve had a key the whole time.”

“I live here,” he says. “Surely you realised I’d have to let myself in and out--”

“You could have let me go any time.” Your tone is flat. Kaveh looks at you, anguished, and a thousand thoughts flit into your mind - a thousand times he could have just unlocked the door and held your hand and the two of you could have walked out of the house and you could have walked right out of Alhaitham’s grasp. Instead, he had given you fruits and trinkets like you were supposed to be grateful and taken the reward of your gratitude in hungry kisses and the press of his body upon yours--

“No, darling,” he’s trying to soothe you. “I couldn’t have - you know what Alhaitham has over me, you know that he could ruin my life - I’m just as much a prisoner as you, really--”

The earnestness in his voice could almost make you forgive him. It has, in the past - when he’s knitted his brow and said of course he can’t let you out of the cage, but he’ll make it up to you when Alhaitham lets you out. You’ve written off things like that before.

No longer. Not with the window fully open, not with escape beckoning you.

“Then leave with me,” you repeat, shaking. “Come out of the window. We’ll get out of Sumeru, we’ll go somewhere nobody even cares about the Akademiya, somewhere he won’t reach--”

The bag full of stolen Mora tied about your waist feels heavy, jingling on your hip. Your throat is dry. The robe you are permitted to wear suddenly feels all the flimsier, all the more embarrassing to be seen in, full thighs on display and the curve of your chest far too revealed.

“Don’t,” he says, softly, moving towards you. He places his hands up, palms facing you, like soothing a wild animal likely to flee. “You know that wouldn’t work. You know he’d find you.”

(You, he says. Not ‘us’.)

“Kaveh!” Dreams of that little cottage and a little life slip through your fingers like grains of sand. “Don’t-- don’t you care about me? Do you want me to die here?”

“Of course I do.” He’s closer now. Your shoulders shake, lip trembling. He reaches out for you, fingers brushing your cheek. “Of course I don’t. We take good care of you. Better care than you might have gotten, before. Have I ever hurt you?”

You want to scream. You’re hurting me now!

“Alhaitham has,” you whisper. “And you . . . you’ve never stopped him.”

You’re crying, you realise, as Kaveh’s face turns into concern and he wipes a tear away.

“I can’t,” he says, with a soft little sigh like he is the injured party. “If he threw me out . . .”

“You don’t want to leave.” You try to keep your voice flat, but it cracks on the ‘want’. You want, you want, you want - and from Kaveh’s kisses, from his murmurs and his gifts and his indulgence of ‘draw the place you wish you could be’, you had always thought that he wanted too.

“I have a reputation,” he replies, steadfast. “My architecture, my name, all of the things I worked hard on--”

He doesn’t say anything about your achievements. He’d smiled at your little drawings and said how talented you were, he’d sighed over how pretty you were and how much of an inspiration you were, looked at you with such warmth in his eyes as he’d listened to you talk about your dreams and all of those little romantic fantasies you kept cherished in your heart and had thought that, perhaps, he would understand--

But now? He says nothing. As if you do not exist outside of this prison.

He thinks himself far more important than you.

“I just want some freedom,” you whisper, your face wet, your throat dry, your body feeling pulled in all ways at once. You had never envisioned that Kaveh would be like this - in all of your daydreams, he had gone willingly with you. You chide yourself now, for your own foolish romanticism - but you cannot let go of nights spent in this house with only Kaveh for comfort. “I just want a life.”

“We take care of you,” Kaveh says in a voice that sounds like a beg. “Alhaitham’s right, you’d never have lasted alone out there--”

“I was d-doing just fine.” Tears clog up your throat like ice.

“Were you?” He asks, quietly. His hand on your face feels like a brand, as he rubs his thumb over your lip and sighs, as he pulls back with a strand of your hair twirled around his finger. “Darling. The world chews up and spits out people like us, sometimes. I just want you to be safe--”

“I’m nothing like you,” you say to him, trying to be strong and failing miserably with every tremulous syllable. “We’re nothing alike, Kaveh. I would have been out of this window the moment it was opened, if we were in one another’s shoes.”

“No,” he says, and his voice is still disgustingly tender. “No, you wouldn’t. You’d see that you’re too fragile, too romantic and too lovely and too idealistic to survive for much longer. You’d see that this is the best option for you.”

“Alhaitham says you’re an idealist,” you whisper bitterly. “A romanticist. Just like me.”

Kaveh sighs.

“This could have been you,” you continue, stubbornly, bitterly, wildly grasping for something to say that could hurt even a fraction of how your heart has shattered. “In another world, you’d be where I am, and you wouldn’t be saying those things to yourself--”

Kaveh looks at you and seems to understand a kind word will not fix this; a stroke of your hair, a hidden treat. He heaves a sigh and shakes his head, instead.

“I’m going to close the window.”

You don’t reply. You stand like a statue, silent, as Kaveh walks to the window, reaches for the frame to pull it back up into position. Your future trickles out of your fingers like sand through an hourglass. The cottage is reduced to rubble by lightning storms, the flower garden does not grow, and the blond man beside you in your dreams becomes as grasping and hungry and monstrous as any nightmare has ever been.

The door clicks open once again. A voice calls out;

“I forgot to bring anything for lunch,”

And then Alhaitham walks in.

His eyes quickly take in the scene before him - you, and Kaveh, and the window that has not yet been closed.

“You forgot to close it last night,” Kaveh says, without turning around. “She wants me to leave with her.”

“And so? What will you do now, Kaveh?” Alhaitham’s voice is clipped. The question hovers in mid-air. Kaveh lets out a huff of breath through his nose, and for one horrible, glorious moment you think he is about to break and come back to your side--

“Close the window,” Kaveh replies instead. “Lock it.”

You stare at Alhaitham - as the Scribe’s lips press together and curve, in a satisfied smile. You wonder if the shattering of your heart is an audible thing, or if it simply sounds that loud in your head. The window lock clicks with a finality that makes you want to throw up.

“Good,” he says. And then he turns his attention back to you, as Kaveh moves across the room to stand just to one side of him. Kaveh’s golden eyes are apologetic - but it is not enough. Your heart has been pulled out of you and trampled upon and there is no coming back from this - no number of peaches or soft kisses or reassurances whispered into your hair that will make you ever think of him as a reprieve.

Perhaps he’s worse. At least Alhaitham does not try and hide behind anything.

You have no friends here. Just two men who, in the end, want the same thing from you.

“You understand I’m going to have to punish you?” Alhaitham asks, and his tone is reassuring in its sharpness. “Trying to run . . . when all I’m doing is giving you the best life you could possibly get?”

“I understand,” you say, exhausted. Kaveh tilts his head to one side and puts on the face that you now know is a mask; concern and worry and pity. You see your future laid bare before you like one of Kaveh’s blueprints. The summer heat seems a visible thing once more - or perhaps that’s your own anger, coalescing, at the fact Kaveh has the nerve to look compassionate.

Later on that evening, when the welts on the back of your thighs sting and you’ve been divested of even the flimsiest garment, when Alhaitham has retired to bed with his door wide open and you curl on the thin blanket of the cage that Alhaitham only uses for the very worst infractions, you slip into fitful nightmares of keys clicking in locks and lion keychains and golden-eyed masks that only lie. The summer night is no cooler. You wake up in the early morning light, golden shafts with dust motes dancing, and you see that in the night the architect has brought you a peace offering.

A small bowl sits beside the cage. The bars are just wide enough for you to reach a hand out (how many nights, in the past, has Kaveh curled his littlest finger around yours whilst you sobbed over the indignity of it?). You could take the spoon sticking out of the bowl and bring mouthfuls of the frozen dessert to your lips, letting it soften and thaw on your tongue, savouring the refreshing coldness of the treat.

You do not.

Instead, you simply sit there, caged, and you watch it melt into liquid drop by drop by drop.

#writing #commissioned work #yandere alhaitham #yandere kaveh #yandere genshin impact #dub con cw #non con cw #yandere cw

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yandere-wishes · 5 months

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Hot Take: Swan Lake (But make it Yancore)

Act 1 Scene 1

But has anyone ever thought about the misery that lies concealed beneath the waves of Swan Lake? A love that's molded over tenfold, yet still continues to rot?

Has anyone ever thought about how in love Baron von Rothbart must have been? How desperate he was to gain Odette's adoration that he sentenced her to his own prison? None shall have her, should he be unable to possess her. It's a promise he makes in a kiss of smoke and stardust.

Rothbart is a creature sewn of flames and feathers. Carved from abomination and power. Strong and weak all in the same breath. Yet ultimately a prisoner too, just like his dear Odette. Rothbart's bones are his glided cage, his own powers his jailer. He knows banishment and imprisonment as if they were his architects. He recognizes isolation like the kiss of a lost lover. He's lord of the swans, the owls, the crows, the birds, he's the lord of everything except Odette's heart.

So he curses her. Not out of malice, never malice, but out of love, devotion. Maybe, just maybe if she could bear his burden. she too would come to understand. He curses her with his likeness. Curses her with a lore and a crown and everything he has always had. He turns her into something only he could love.

And at the end of the day, it works too...

Act 1 Scene 2

Poor Odette, poor sweet Odette. Everyone knows of her tragedy, her curse, her death. Yet has anyone ever seen the sorrow that resides within her brittle bones?

Half swan, Half human. Yet never belonging to either world.

No one's ever thought of how she's felt throughout these years. The way the feathers stick out of her flesh even when she's human again. The way her voice imitates the call of a swan, every second syllable emphasized.

Even the full moon can not fully return that which Rothbart stole.

Oh, Rothbart. Even his name sends waves of hate throughout her body.

There's resentment in her bones. Hate too deep and passionate for words

What is this called again? Obsession, abhorrence, loathing?

Yet even with this spirited hate, all she can do is wait, wither away until imposible love finds her.

But when Siegfried finds her that's when the world really starts to fall apart. Because he's a prince, cold yet lovable. Soft like dandelions and as precious as the lilypads that infest the pond.

He's everything she's ever wanted.

And yet...

There's this leap in logic whenever he's concerned. He can't understand the pain she's been through. He'll never truly comprehend the weight of the curse. How suffocating its invisible shackles are, how deteriorated her mind has become.

Siegfried is a prince in every definition of the word...

But Siegfried can't understand the horrors she bears in her heart. The nightmares that never seize and the burden of living between worlds.

So maybe, just maybe that's why she throws herself into Rothbart's arms one dreadful night. Because for all his countless flaws Rothbart can -at the very least- comprehend her anguish. Who better to understand the burden of a curse than its caster? Then the one born with the same spell in his veins.

The curse is straightforward "a spell broken only once you are loved by someone who has never loved before."

Has Rothbart ever truly loved someone? Should she try to gain his love? maybe she's had it this whole time...Maybe she's also loved him this whole time...

Or maybe she's grown addicted to the sting of his teeth along her jugular and his bruising grip on her hips when they pirouette. Maybe there's a form of deification in the burn marks his feathers leave across her skin. A silent "I Love You" too fragile to be spoken.

There's something wrong with his kisses - they burn like a thousand hells and leave an aftertaste akin to poison- there's something wrong with the way her name falls from his lips.

There's something wrong with him...

So why is she starting to want him?

Maybe it's the trauma he's spilled into her lungs. Or how easily he makes the nightmares go away. Maybe it's the palliative sensation as he caresses all her flaws, kissing them as if they were holy. Maybe it's because whether swan or human she knows he'll love her. He'll understand.

How she wishes sweet Siegfried could do the same...

Act 2 scene 1

Odile chokes on night air and stardust. Bursting at the seams to be seen. She can't remember a time when she's been anything but darkness. Anything but a second thought.

She was born with feathers and a body meant to endure. Her mother, the dark arts. Her father, the lord of all who fly. She is more creature than human. A testament to the dark.

So what if she grew up spoiled? With every luxury thrown at her feet. It all means very little when you've never known the touch of another soul. When isolation has been your sole companion from the moment you emerged from your egg.

There's darkness within her that her father nourishes. Yet not even he can provide her with mitigation, camaraderie, happiness.

So maybe, just maybe that's why when she sees the prince for the first time. The world illuminates. She's sent to seduce him. To claim another victory for her father. But she positively melts when she feels his warm hands on her skin. The smile aimed at her is brighter than every ray of the sun.

If it's merely a deceit, then why does her heart pound like a caged bird among her ribs? Why does her blood flow to her cheeks upon seeing his smile? Why oh why does she feel this way, this need? To make him hers.

The black swan falls for the prince even if it's only meant to be a ploy, a ruse, another cruel game orchestrated by the wicked baron. How painful it must be to love for the first time and know it can only end in woe. How painful it must be to rot in endless heartache.

How she wishes to kiss him, just once. As he holds her hand and dances with her in front of a royal crowd. His eyes shine with an adoration she's never seen before. Is this love? Is this what she's been robbed of her whole life?

How she dies a thousand deaths when Siegfried utters Odette's name.

What she wouldn't sacrifice to hear him call her name instead...

Act 2 Scene 2

Imagine the black swan and the white swan actually get a chance to meet away from preying eyes and endless expectations. Imagine they understand each other's pain like two dying stars.

There's a lake in a forest where dreams go to die. A sparkling oasis where curses run ramped. In the glow of a lonely moon, Odette sits by the lake. Watching her fellow prisoners dance the night away.

Her heartache is unbearable tonight, she'll deem it a miracle should she see sunrise. Odile collapses next to her, bathing in her loneliness. A shade of grey encompasses the two of them,

They're too tired to hate. Too tired to fight. For tonight they are both just lost souls looking for the light.

Imagine the white swan and the black swan actually understand each other.

One cursed to be a swan. The other born into its likeness.

"I want to die," Odette mutters her tone is all burdon and pain.

"Death would be too easy, dear princess. We were both made to suffer" Odile replies, stating the only fact she's still sure of.

Odette stands, a queen with no crown. Her eyes staring at her flock of swans. She outstretches her hand and beckons Odile for a dance. Just two birds trapped within the same aviary.

Odile's hand fits perfectly in Odette's. Fingers entwined as if slipping into each other's souls. Two juxtapositions, dancing as if they were one. Each step mirroring the other.

Every jete, every arabesque, every graceful move, further entwines their fate. Guiding them to an answer, a clarification neither knew existed.

The younger swans gather around them. Embracing them. Odette and Odile were created for this world. Both doomed by Rothbart and revered by Siegfried. Stronger together.

Two birds of a feather, who must die together...

Final Act

Imagine the black swan and the white swan decide to die together. Standing at the edge of the lake. Hands crossed, holding each other. Legs moving in a thousand tiny Bourrees. Siegfried and Rothbart cry out, trying to reach them. It's futile, the two swans have made their choice. The waves below beckon.

Odette and Odile, know that together no one will ever hurt them again.

Imagine sacrificing love in its entirety to ensure the safety of the other swans, of each other. Imagine accepting the curse, believing that one must embrace it to be able to live a prosperous life. The two swans fall together, a double suicide, an act of devotion.

Maybe just maybe the world will finally learn how devoted and mercurial a maiden's heart truly is.

Before the Prince and Baron can shed their tears, a creature emerges from the lake. A single swan made up of halves. A testament to both princesses. A queen in its entirety. Two wings of black and white hang from her shoulder blades. A crown of white and black adorned her head. There is no longer an Odette, a cursed girl awaiting love. There is no longer an Odile a baroness of evil. There is only the swan queen.

And she will make the world bow.

tags: @average-yandere-enjoyer @vereya @coral-relevium @overthinkingit56

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jhuzen · 1 year

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could u write kaveh diluc or kaeya with an obsessive m reader? like yandere type (or just obsessive whatever u want) I love the way u write them ur my fav blog

following elysium [m.reader]

maaaaan i haven’t written anything yandere in a good while now. but i can’t say i don’t miss it. this takes me back to my obsession with yandere character arc (*coughs in yan asogi that i still obsess over in my drafts*) so this request will let me know if i’ve lost my touch. also, why pick between three when you can have all lolololll

𖦹 dark themes, yandere male reader (ranging from manipulative, to overprotective, to soft), manipulation everywhere (like a lot, i swear i’m not good at it irl or am i jkjk), obsessive themes, some mentions and allusions of death, some isolation, scare tactics, love bombing

𐂂 obsession is a lethal poison, and yet you’ve survived a gallon of doses.

Kaveh

Your sweet naïve little Kaveh was quite the adorable one, always so considerate, so willing to please and so eager to do what he can in order to satisfy you, a mere admiring client of his. A man that he knew that personally sought him out to the ends of Sumeru just to meet him and commission him. Just because for some reason, you had heard of him from the outskirts of this vast nation.

Oh truly what an honor it is.

If only he knew it took one smile from him and a small greeting from exactly just a year ago when he officially met you, that sent you spiraling into a mad obsession that longed to pursue him; if only he insisted to look inside the office you’ve kept him off of, he would have seen the altar that could rival any other archons out there; if only he had a lick of awareness in him, he would’ve seen that your devilishly charming smiles were indeed the work of something far more sinister.

Alas, he was your sweet little architect, unaware of your leering stares, gazes so predatory it could leave any prey scampering off, ready to pounce at him and just break him.

But you are a man of class, you knew your way around people’s hearts, and Kaveh’s weakness was the positive feedback he gets from his clients. He’s helping out of the goodness of his heart, after all, mora is not so much of an issue (to the point of him even incurring a debt), and he was even just as generous with you, refusing the pounds of mora that you were willing to lay at his feet (though you send him away with heaps still).

And as your gaze flitted from the blueprints of your master’s bedroom renovation to the man currently in charge of it, a small smile wormed its way to your face. Truly your esteemed genius architect is a lovely one, how lucky were you that you met him on that particular day.

“Hm… I don’t think with the way we’ve recently renovated your hallways, your bedroom pans out at all,” his bottom lip stuck out into an adorable pout, and it took every cell in your body to control the maddening urge to kiss them, to bite them until you even get a taste of him.

“Is that so?” You casually leaned over, drawing yourself nearer than normal. And heaven swallowed you whole when you got a whiff of that familiar honey scented shampoo that Kaveh often used (you’ve made a note of buying more in stock once you’ve enacted the final steps in your little plan).

However, even that lovely scent wasn’t enough to keep your attention away from the way Kaveh stiffened, from the way his grip around the parchment of your blueprint significantly tightened to the point of ripping it apart, from the way his breath hitched.

“I— A-Ah! Um! Yes—!”

From the way his voice cracked — those red eyes peered up at you — to the way those gazes of his became increasingly fonder and more frenzied, much like yours, but less subtle. Kaveh was always bad at hiding how he truly feels, and it made it easier for you to trap him in your little cage, to snip away his wings until he’s fully tied down to you.

You tilted your head, cocking an eyebrow as you put him in his place, rendering him almost speechless when he briskly turned back to the blueprint, wide-eyed and flustered. How adorable.

“Well, I trust that you know how our transactions are, my dear,” your tone was suave and smooth, practiced to perfection, and the same way with your movements that were calculated for precision, ensnaring your poor unsuspecting Kaveh. You took a lock of his hair in your hand, twirling it around as you attempted to find his averted gaze. “Go all out. Mora is not an issue.”

Kaveh’s head stuttered as he nodded, his trembling hands barely able to release the poor blueprint from his vice grip. He somehow didn’t know why, but there were recent changes about you in the few and far between times that he sees you for your personal consultation. Kaveh thought it sweet really, that you would go out of your way to contact a grand and comfortable enough transportation to take him to your home instead of making him walk a hundred miles just to do so (despite his initial insistence to do it instead).

You were the first client that has been so generous with praises and mora when it comes to your payment, and while the architect can afford to be modest about accepting your financial payment, even he couldn’t hide the metaphorical wagging of his tail should you even grace him one compliment for his efforts. Don’t get him wrong though, he knows he’s good, how else could he have graduated with honors if not?

Nevertheless, your approval was something Kaveh continuously sought, until every letter of commission you sent him suddenly had him mistaking it for a letter of something more… intimate, something that held a rather romantic connotation.

He took your kindness for something more, unknowing of your ulterior motives, blissfully unaware about the obsession that gets you high, and absolutely clueless about the fact that ten of your men — the ones that greeted him so jovially as they gave him a ride to your grand home — had their eyes on his every move on the days he would be off back home, acting as your eyes, all perfectly ready to execute someone should they harm a hair on his head.

Thoughts of you became even more intrusive the more he met with you, Kaveh found you addicting, and he even felt ashamed of the fact that he did so. You’re his client! He shouldn’t be so emotionally involved in the first place. He was there to do his job that you commissioned him for.

But a moment of clarity soon encompassed him when he realized that he has previous engagements to this. That he shouldn’t be staying the night at your home once more to work on renovating your bedroom.

“Ah… I just remembered…” Kaveh’s frown was unmistakable, and suddenly the feeling of eagerness of him meeting up with his friends at the usual tavern was replaced with blatant hesitance at the thought of leaving you. But he quickly shook it off, turning back to you, “Hey… I hope you don’t mind if I can postpone our work for now…”

Where did you get that wine?

Your gaze lifted from the swirling burgundy in your glass, “Oh? How come? Need some inspiration?”

“I just remembered I promised to meet with my friends tonight. It’s only once a month.”

Your lips almost turned down into a disdainful scowl but opted for a small, reserved disappointed frown, “Ah. I see. How disappointing that is,” you murmured, but it was enough for Kaveh to hear. Deceitfully disheartened, like practiced and the way Kaveh’s eyebrows furrowed in concern was enough of a reaction.

“It wouldn’t be for too long though! I’ll be back tomorrow!” The hesitation crept up on him and it showed in the tone of his voice. Desperation soon followed when his body turned to face yours, a sign of vulnerability and submission in this situation. “It’s not… it’s not as if I’m leaving or anything.”

You heaved a sigh, “But that would be too much on you, making you come all the way back and even after spending some time with your friends too.” You can only thank the lucky stars that you were a son of a theatre actor from Fontaine, it sure came in handy.

“No, I can definitely make it! You’re my best client, I can’t afford to—”

Kaveh’s frantic saving was quickly interrupted when you decided to go in for the kill, “Like I said, I don’t wish to run you ragged… and my family will come and visit soon.” You snapped your fingers, looking at Kaveh with feigned curiosity, “Ah, yes. Might you know any other capable architects? Surely I can’t expect the same work like yours, but someone who would not disappoint would be enough.”

His red eyes immediately went wide, completely baffled at your suggestion. You were willing to replace him? Just like that?

“I…” Kaveh looked down, suddenly meek. “I don’t know anyone who can do that much,” he muttered despite knowing otherwise. He was kind to his fellow architects, but surely he can afford to be selfish about you just this once?

He failed to see the way your eyes shone with satisfaction, contrasting you disheartened tone, “Hm… pity that is…”

Well. Missing one night wouldn’t hurt, right?

Kaveh looked back up at you, “I… I suppose I can afford to just show up next time. We do these hangouts all the time anyway,” his words completely contrasted his claim of scarce meets earlier, but it was more than enough for you to know how quickly he gave in. “Ah, whatever. I’m sure those guys can handle themselves.”

“Are you certain?” You asked, tilting his head up with a hand on his chin, almost getting lost into those ruby reds of his. “I’d hate for you to miss such an important engagement.”

And before he knew it, he willingly embraced the shadows, engulfing every part of him, leaving none untouched. It swallowed him whole, like a limitless void, with no one left to even save him, forgetting anyone else but you and only you.

“No, it’s okay. I don’t mind staying with you.”

You tapped the rim of your glass on his lip, pouring that familiar wine in the small gap of his lips that you’ve graced him on the many nights he would stay to work on your home renovations. You watched with pure delight as Kaveh’s eyes grew hazy and unfocused — left with nothing but with the manipulated admiration for you.

“Good. Let’s enjoy the night, shall we?”

𐂂

Kaeya

The infamous Cavalry Captain has no one to blame but himself, really. Even as your superior, he knew no bounds when it comes to reserving himself. He always flaunted himself at you, like a fashionable bird that that preened its wings on the daily just to show off. He was flashy, mouthy, and unbearably attractive.

Being placed under him was hell for all the different reasons. You were constantly in his presence — and you had to shoulder the patience of the kindest archon in existence to resist anything remotely impulsive. You had to be near him in proximity, always around him, accompanying him from the most mundane errands to the most hectic missions.

And while Captain Kaeya was he shining beacon between you and him, you were the dark shadow that walked behind him. It wasn’t your fault, he asked you so himself.

“This guy’s going to shadow me, hope you have no objections to that, Acting Grandmaster,” was what you heard on that one fateful day, before finding your pristine uniform getting remotely crinkled as he dragged you away without breaking a sweat.

Since that day, no person in Monstadt can claim that they’ve seen Kaeya without you, or you without him. It was almost like fate, except it was a fate that forged a bond from the depths of abyss — a bond that embodied nothing but a push and pull relationship, the distance and proximity, the obsession and submission.

You had to watch him put himself out there, when you can just as easily drag that information from someone if you asked with a blade on their throat; that usually gets people talking. But he dismissed you easily, and let you stew in the cesspool of madness that his actions slowly created.

And you were none the wiser, you cleaned up the messes he made, you made sure to silence the people once they came into their senses that they’ve been bested by yet again the sniveling calvary captain of the order.

All of his commands, you obeyed without complaint.

And oddly enough, it brought you a sense of comfort. That he trusts you this much, that he’s willing to let you go rampant in exchange for his safety — one that you never failed on doing. All of it, to keep him safe.

Until recently, you found it inconvenient to let him off without a leash. Seeing him come home from an excursion with scratches that decorated his poor body — adding further into those battle scars that you’ve once had the displeasure of seeing when he asked you to aid him into wrapping himself with a handful of bandages — and it wasn’t the greatest sight. You fussed over him like a mother hen, never once letting him out of your sight.

You were rewarded with a grateful side-hug from the captain, and it was enough to fuel your mission in protecting him.

“Ah! Captain! Should I accompany you today?” You asked as you approached him with a blinding grin — in fact so blinding, he had to squint his one good eye. For a shadow, you sure are bright. Perhaps Kaeya was mistaken when he said you were going to be his behind-the-scenes guy.

Kaeya found you adorable, in all honesty. You had an exuberant energy within you that went unparalleled, and on days that he personally needed someone to pick him up when everything weighed down on him, it seemed like you almost had a sixth sense for it and was almost always by his side. Not that he minded — he was grateful above all else. And on days when the drunkard bard or Rosaria weren’t around to keep him company, he trusts that you have some reserved liquor in your home so he can drink away his problems and still be fine in his sleep.

If only he knew how hard you stared at him, obsessively looking him over while you slowly drowned in your fantasies — one of which him finally being chained to you, devoted and stuck waiting at home while you defend his honor without him having to harm himself in the process.

“There you are, missed me already?” He asked with a cheeky grin.

You did. You couldn’t sleep a wink, knowing that you weren’t around to protect him.

You scratched your head and laughed, “Aw, don’t be so mean captain. I only care about your wellbeing!”

“Hm~? How sweet… sure wouldn’t hurt to have you around every now and then.”

You have been. You prowled around his remote home, kicking stones and staring longingly in the window, ready to pounce at anyone who seemed vaguely threatening.

Kaeya thought how endearing you might be if you were to be his, but with the mission he carries on his back, he wonders if it’s even worth it having you, only to betray you in the end. He wonders if you can betray your own homeland for him.

You would, without question. You will lay a hundred corpses of the Order’s knights at his feet should he ask.

“Don’t tease me so much, captain,” your pout was enough to lift his spirits from that asinine thought. “Now, where are you going? I’ll go prepare my things.”

“Just heading up to Dragonspine to meet with the chief investigator. It shouldn’t be too hard, so you can just stay here and enjoy a bit of downtime, yeah? Go bother my brother if you want, you have my full permission.”

You frowned and Kaeya suddenly felt a chill crawl through his spine. You never did expressed such a disappointment even on the most difficult situations, and it suddenly feels like he made a mistake in refusing you. Perhaps it was because you towered over him so easily, perhaps it was because you could catch him without even trying that Kaeya suddenly felt so small in comparison to you.

The tension lasted for a good minute, silence engulfed the both of you and Kaeya has never felt so uncomfortable in his own skin. Should he have taken his answer back? But really, there was no need for you to escort him in the first place.

You then broke the silence with a quiet, dispirited sigh.

“Okay, but please keep safe, alright?” You patted the captain’s cheeks, sending him a small smile before heading off.

Kaeya didn’t like the way the guilt gnawed in his chest.

And while you also didn’t like an act of betrayal, you found it necessary at times — times when lessons had to be taught. The Acting Grandmaster said so herself, that experience is the best teacher.

Kaeya trudged through the coldness of Dragonspine, completely hating the fact that he had no company now. Maybe he should’ve just agreed to your proposition, and you looked so sad too! Like a kicked puppy that was told to sleep outside in the cold night. He couldn’t bear the thought of you looking so sad — you were his partner, of course you should’ve come!

Alas, the feelings of being attached to someone burdened him so, and while he sought your brightest and warmest of smiles, he couldn’t muster the courage to see it fall on the day that he fulfills what he knows would be his inevitable fate in the long run.

However all his rumination came into a halt the moment he heard a roar that thundered quite literally just beside him.

Kaeya had little time to think the moment the beast emerged from the towering trees of the mountains, his head blanking as he watched it lunge towards him with great speed. His hand that went up to the hilt of his sword suddenly froze the very moment he realized he was a little too late.

Closing his eye shut, he braced for the impact until suddenly, the beast roared and he could hear the familiar sickening sound of a blade piercing through the flesh.

Mere seconds were all it took for him to regain his breathing, his ears ringing as the adrenaline pumped through his veins. He now wonders if he really should’ve taken you up on your offer on escorting him in the first place, sure would’ve eased the guilt he felt inside and maybe he wouldn’t have to space out in the middle of his trail.

“Captain! Are you okay?!”

His eye flew open, seeing your angelic face that held nothing but pure concern for him. He glanced back at the slain beast and back to you, pupils dilated — you were here. Here. And you protected him.

He stayed still, watching in bated breath as you dropped your bloodied greatsword that stained the thick coat of snow. You smiled a little, brushing away a few strands of hair from his face, “There’s my captain. Are you alright? Did it hurt you?”

“Y…You’re here…?”

You blinked before laughing, bashful and what Kaeya can consider as remotely adorable in any other day, “Ah… yeah. I know you said I can’t come… but I can’t help it! What if you were in trouble and I wasn’t there to protect you? So I came and good thing I did!”

Kaeya’s lips trembled, before lunging in to hug you tight, almost sending you tumbling into the snow. You quickly returned the gesture, wrapping your arms around him tight. You patted his back, rubbing circles to soothe your poor little captain.

“There, there. From now on, let’s stick together, okay?”

The captain nodded into your shoulder, looking up to look at the unmoving beast that laid in the snow.

He does wonder though… since when were wild beasts in this mountain leashed?

𐂂

Diluc

To the citizens of Mondstadt, their uncrowned king remains as cold and as untouchable as he can be. He rarely interacted with anyone, and was almost always either cooped up in his manor, or out in other nations to further propagate his empirical business in the wine industry. He was always on the move, and people admired him for that.

And you were willing to bet your entire life that their admiration would grow tenfold when they realized that Diluc was the unsung Darknight Hero that terrorized every monsters that hoped to wreak havoc in the lives of the citizens.

Alas, the situation remains as it were, with him completely aloof to the people, leaving either a terrifying impression, or one that could leave someone seething at his unwelcoming tendencies.

But you would be remiss to blindly agree to that. In fact, you vehemently denied those claims as you remained by his side, like a loyal watchdog for him to command as he so pleases.

He was your savior first before your now superior. Diluc was your beacon of hope on the very day he rescued you from the cold rain, ostracized from your nation that you once loved and now left with a gaping void on your chest. You could still remember the feeling of that cold rain while you trudged within the Dawn Winery’s vicinity, when suddenly the rain stopped pelting harshly on you as a pair of shoes entered your field of vision.

You could still remember his words echo within your ears.

“You’re going to get sick. Come inside and let the rain pass at least.”

The rest was history after that, and now you sat as the elusive and capable butler of the famed prolific young man of the Ragnvindr clan. Though in fairness, you weren’t particularly elusive, and Adelinde can attest to that.

She has never seen someone handle their Master Diluc so delicately. She could sing her praises to you endlessly, with your attentive nature, and you willingness to serve Diluc without even an ounce of hesitation. You’ve certainly earned your keep in their eyes, and even the pyro vision wielder can see your dedication towards him.

There was always something with the way you carried yourself the moment you started working under the Ragnvindr house, you first started off as a mere novice in caring for the house, until you rapidly climbed up the ranks as Diluc’s personal attendant, aiding him in his home as well as his monthly international trips to ensure his safety.

Really, it wasn’t much to be praised for. You were only doing your job, and it’s a job that you found yourself intensely passionate for. To be with Diluc was an honor, to serve the man that saved you from your untimely demise, returning his actions with so much more than what was on offer.

Your service was something that toed between your gratefulness and a borderline obsession.

You gave what you can and Diluc was nothing but completely enamored with you, from your lofty smiles that felt like heaven, to your assisting hands that traced against his shoulders on mornings where you helped him get dressed for the day. All of it was slowly drawing him in. You were perfect, too perfect in fact, and it haunted poor Diluc that knew nothing but pain and betrayal.

“Master Diluc, I believe there is merit to getting some sleep after working so hard,” your smile was light and airy, and it was already a breath of fresh air from the contrasting suffocating environment that was filled to the brim with mindless drunks.

Diluc made a quiet noise of agreement (his mouth barely had the strength to move after talking to so many patrons of his), yet his feet begged to differ as it led him up to his office without skipping a beat.

You folded his coat in your arms and trailed after him, “So then why am I seeing you opening the door to what I believe is not your bedroom door?” You inquire with a croon, lovingly watching the way his hand hesitated to find the doorknob. It was a sign that he heeded your little advice and your little heart that was filled to the brim with love for your master couldn’t help but swell with pride and increase in rate, almost spilling over.

“I have… some reports to attend to. If I can finish it tonight, it would be less burden on me tomorrow,” Diluc reasoned, but it was clear that he was slowly caving into your whims, just the way you like it.

He was inexplicably weak towards you for some reason — something not a lot of people could achieve despite working for him or with him for a good while.

“Would it be wise to tend to them while completely exhausted?”

Once again, you’ve put him in a difficult place. You’re a cunning man, unfortunately for him, able to wriggle in some moments of logic into his brain that prioritized his duties over his own wellbeing. And for some reason, concerning as it is, his brain feels intoxicated as it sways to your will, completely subservient and willing to abide despite the fact that you were his servant and he was the commanding authority in your relationship.

Diluc feels it sometimes — the unsettling feeling of being squeezed tight, like a python coiling around his body as it suffocated him with love and care. His movements are restricted and he was unable to break free from that tightening grasp.

It was almost hard to breathe, but at the same time there was sick sense of comfort that was lodged into the back of his mind. He liked it. It was the affection that he was deprived of, leaving him writhing in the loneliness that he was forced to soldier through. And when you came to him on that one night, you gave him what he needed but not asked for.

You made him feel like he’s worth something, and it made him want to vie for a life worth something as well. It was a feeling that he could get high off of, and you were willing donor to whatever it was that he lacked.

And before he knew it, he sat at his tub comfortably, completely bare and vulnerable while you continued to wash his hair with such gentle hands. Never has he known a touch so kind like yours and he was ready to get lost within it.

“Feeling better?” Your voice coos at his ear, sickeningly sweet and yet he submits himself into it with reckless abandon. Your hands moved from his hair, leaving the most addicting touches as you traced your fingertips from the nape of his neck right to his shoulders that were filled with tension.

“Much,” Diluc muttered, head turning up as his half-lidded eyes met yours, still filled with that irresistible fondness that he grew to be addictive of. “Thank you, [Name].”

You smiled, succinct yet saccharine while your hands worked away the kinks and knots away from your master’s incredibly tensed muscles.

For him, you would give your all, even if it meant to face death. You would throw away anything else because a world without your endearing master is a world not worth living for. You will serve him until the world falls to your feet, and if given the chance, you will do what you can to protect him even beyond your useless life that long passed.

He was your savior and now you were a devout believer — one that worships his master with little to no hesitation. You can beat any other nun or the beloved deacon of that measly church with how much love and devotion you were willing to show him. Hell, even if you can’t, if it’s what Diluc wants, you would do well with dying as you try and make the impossible completely possible just for him.

Your love through subservience was quick to snuff out the wings your master once embodied to soar freely. He slowly caved into you, in need and constantly hungry for more, unaware of his growing dependence on your presence.

“It’s no problem, my lord. I will serve and tail you until the ends of this world. And even in my death, I am yours to command and to have.”

Diluc mirrored your smile, albeit much more tired than your sweet one.

He was the willing prey and you were the loving predator.

The unmistakably perfect match.

#i just realized the line up is reversed alphabetical #hm #ok maybe my sanity will be alright #genshin impact x male reader #genshin impact x yandere reader #yandere male reader #kaveh x male reader #kaeya x male reader #diluc x male reader #jhuzen’s stupid scenarios #jhuzen’s stupid one shots #LMAO idk if yall noticed but i took some inspo from the usual tropes of love interest that u see in otome games #the rich rich classy guy for kaveh #the himbo but not rlly secretly for kaeya #the caring and gentle servant for diluc #hope i pleased u with this anon #and tysm i feel honored to be a favorite of yours <3 #even tho my ass is a slow poster hoowee

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dilys-min · 8 days

Text

CARE AND DISCIPLINE

Pairing: Yandere! Kaveh x Reader x Yandere! Alhaitham

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationship, Mentions of physical abuse, Kidnapping, etc.

Word counts: 563 words

For the longest time, Kaveh has always treated you with utmost care. His touch is always light and gentle, or at least, as gentle as he could. Such delicacy has made you wonder if you were a porcelain doll and he was the artisan, admiring his masterpiece; if you would break when he applied a little too much pressure.

Sweet and caring Kaveh, always willing to wipe your tears when you cry about how much you miss home, but never enough to stand out for you when Alhaitham bends you over the desk and belts you.

Kaveh would bring you little trinkets from his jobs like an exotic flower which only grows in the deserts of Sumeru or a hairpin bought from street vendors. Nevertheless, you know better than to fall for the blonde architect, when he is just as worse as Alhaitham.

Kaveh has no needs for chains like

Alhaitham does when his suffocating hugs and lingering kisses are enough. Any resentment or escape attempts would quickly melt away under his soothing voice and empty promises.

Alhaitham treats you like how one would treat their dog.

Strict and harsh Alhaitham, whose shackles never relent, only suffocatingly tighten around your throat.

“If you are adamant on behaving like an unruly mutt then I ought to treat you as one”. The metal bars of the crate cut into your leg as Alhaitham’s raspy voice echoes the room. The bite mark earlier still burning red on his throat - a proof of your short-lived defiance.

Alhaitham is a man of discipline and order- a reputation well-earned throughout his years working under . You would've found the silver-hair Scribe admirable, if the weight of his affection didn’t feel so heavy. Any sense of normalcy was stripped away from you the day you found yourself in his home, tied up as he explained to you in a stoic tone. His rules are simple, and he expects you to follow them. Eat what he cooks, read the books that he left out for you and follow the schedule that he has set up. It’s only the best for you as Alhaitham put it. Sometimes, you wonder if you were just a stray mutt that he happened to pick up. A dog that could only understand the simplest of commands.

While Kaveh wants a docile thing to dote on, Alhaitham wants a pet that bends to his every whim. You don’t know which is better. Either way, you will always find yourself in the loving arms of your captors.

In Kaveh’s and Alhaitham’s eyes, you remind them of a nightingale. Like a songbird, you would fly from place to place, happily chirping anywhere you please, bringing joy to others with your songs and they were merely a temporary stop that happened to catch your eyes. Naive and oblivious little thing you are. You would happily chirping , unaware of the fox lurking beneath the bushes, waiting for the perfect chance to pounce on you. Such ignorance would be your ultimate demise. The nightingale would be swallowed whole before it even realized.

They couldn’t let that happen to you. But they know that no bird would willingly walk right into its gilded cage. Feelings are only temporary, with the right guidance, you will come around to them eventually.

After all, a nightingale would sing just as beautifully even with a broken wing, right?

#yandere #alhaitham #kaveh #yandere alhaitham #yandere kaveh #genshin impact #yandere x reader

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bmodiwrites · 1 year

Text

It's 1990 & Steve's finally comfortable in his career. He's planning to put his head down and create more art but Eddie's return to the shop changes everything. Not only are his tattoo wants to die for, Steve is still so desperately caught in his feels for his first real client. Catch up on chapter 1 to build up the anticipation before you check out chapter 2!

He must’ve been obsessing over it hard because Wayne eventually jolted him from the dark hole of artistic concentration. “If you add anything else to that, you won’t have any room for a little freedom on the skin. What do I always tell you about hyperfixating?”

Rolling his eyes, Steve repeated one of Wayne’s well used slogans. “It ain’t good for nobody. Especially an artist.” Pushing the sketch pad away, Steve sat up with a sigh. “I know that but I can’t help it… or stop myself. I want it to be perfect.”

The look on Wayne’s face softened. “He asked for you specifically, Steve. That alone is something. Don’t sweat it, buddy. It looks good. I am half tempted to have you do a couple of those characters on me, even.”

Affronted, Steve covered his drawing haphazardly. The idea of sharing Eddie’s masterpiece made Steve’s stomach turn. Not even Wayne, who felt like a father to him, deserved this particular effort.

Wayne laughed then, not even try to stop the punched out chuckle as it bubbled up. “Easy there. I’m just joking with you.” Shifting on his feet, Wayne peeked at the design over Steve’s errant hands. “Are you thinking black and white or color?”

Glad to be back on a more recognizable foot, Steve moved so Wayne could see the drawing fully. “Black and white, I think. At least to start. Color could be a nice finishing touch at the end if requested.”

“Stick to your gut. It’ll impact better with the shading you’re so good at doing.” The compliment rolled so easily off Wayne’s tongue, though neither of them acknowledged it. The rough disposition was just a cover. Wayne, underneath it all, was a big teddy bear. No one wanted the behavior to end, so everyone pretended it didn’t exist.

Ignorance, it seemed, was bliss for everyone.

Read the rest of chapter 2 on AO3!

Tagging (please let me know if you want to be added to the taglist for chapter 2 by comment below!): @writer-in-theory, @zerokrox-blog, @whatthefuccck, @patchworkgargoyle, @estrellami-1, @thefreakandthehair

#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson x steve harrington #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve harrington/eddie munson #eddie munson/steve harrington #steddie fics #steddie au #tattoo artist steve #bobbie writes #the architect of this cage

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probablyasocialecologist · 7 months

Text

What we do know from history is that Israel does not want to resolve the Palestinian question diplomatically, to say nothing of the Palestinian demands for decolonization. They will not integrate Palestinians as citizens, because that would disrupt the Jewish demographic majority. Nor do they do not want to recognize Palestinian sovereignty and give them their own state. Instead, the solution has been to architect a system that contains Palestinians violently in open-air prisons across 224 ghettos in the West Bank and one huge ghetto in the Gaza Strip, and to make sure that Palestinians never have the capacity to protest and to resist. Get rid of as many as possible and then put as many in cages. And now all we’re hearing them say is to put them in tighter cages. The support for decimating Palestinians and removing them en masse, in many ways, fulfills what has been the major calculus for Israel: how it can get rid of an entire population while not appearing as if it’s committing outright genocide.

Noura Erakat, “The Crimes Are Plenty”

#israel #palestine #zionism #settler colonialism #gaza

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thatsthewrongwallcraig · 7 months

Text

Golden Cage

Summary: Money really does not buy happiness…

Pairing: Elijah Kamski x afab!Reader

Word Count: ~2.5k

Content Warnings: Emotionally Charged PWP 18+!, Elijah Playing Mind Games, Mentions Of Self-Harm, Mentions Of Alcohol, A Brief Moment Of Crying, A Clearly Toxic Relationship, Choking, Degradation/Praise, Unprotected P In V, Elijah Talking Reader Through It, Breeding Kink, No Aftercare Because…Elijah

A/N: This might just be one of the horniest things I've ever written…

Also, you know me, of course I've put together an Elijah Kamski playlist by now!

Tagging those who might be interested: @spookyorchid @blueberrypancakesworld @herprivateisland @queer-crusader

Half algorithm, half deity

Glitches in the code or gaps in a strange dream

Tell me you guessed my future and it mapped onto your fantasy

Turn me into your mannequin and I'll turn you into my puppet queen

- Ascensionism by Sleep Token

Calm, nearly silent breathing was the only minuscule sound that filled the darkness of the bedroom around you. With your eyes forcefully shut, you tried to fall asleep, had been at it for at least the past 30 minutes but your racing mind always flung back to the dull ache emitting from the palm of your right hand. The fresh memories of clasping too tightly around a delicate glass of champagne completely on purpose until it shattered into sharp smithereens circulated in your thoughts, taking lap after lap, whilst you sought to calm the still raging anger in your chest.

Although the worst part of your desperation-fueled tantrum was over, the leftover flickers of outrage still prevailed. By whatever god out there, you were so sick of it. So sick of being stuck in this mansion with the world very much at your fingertips but no way to get out. No way to leave this designer-architected hellhole to lead a normal life and just be one of millions again, no. That train left the station years ago when you had started out as a simple intern at CyberLife and Elijah Kamski, the prodigy high up above, the demi-god of modernization himself took an interest in you and you greedily grabbed the hand of opportunity not only by its pinky. Back then not even the sky seemed to be the limit but now you found yourself trapped between silken duvet covers and marble-tiled rooms.

“Would you listen to me for a moment?” Elijah’s calm tone from behind pulled you out of your thoughts.

“Uh-huh…” It rolled over your tongue in an exhausted murmur.

“Does it hurt badly?” You felt him scooting closer, his tall frame cupping your backside.

“So so…” You huffed, shrugging your tense shoulders.

“Let me see.” Elijah’s fingertips snaked along your waist down to your hips, tracing your elbow from there on upwards until his palm wrapped itself around your wrist.

In a gentle and slow movement, he pulled your hand closer to his face.

“It’ll be okay.” You tried to dismiss it.

“Eventually.”, Elijah agreed right before you felt his plush lips planting soft pecks along your knuckles, “I’m sorry it came to this in the first place.”

"Are you?" You inquired with a carefully aimed edge to your tone.

"Please, don't be like that now. Of course I'm sorry that you're hurt." Elijah groaned quietly, his thumb stroking over the back of your hand.

His slight annoyance gave you a little kick, because it was exactly what you wanted to coax out of him. A reaction, an acknowledgement of your discomfort, your seemingly endless boredom.

"Yet I also wonder why nothing I offer you ever seems to be enough…", Your senses perked up at his words because you knew what was about to happen and you really needed it to, "Haven’t I given you everything, love? Am I not spoiling you rotten?"

Every little bit of his accusations went straight to your head and you let them in, craved for Elijah to get into your mind like that because it brought you a twisted sense of comfort in the way it belittled your needs.

"You do." You agreed, the slowly building blame gradually covering the biting loneliness stinging in your chest.

"So what more do you want?" Elijah hummed against the shell of your ear, lulled you in further with his warm breath breezing along your neck.

"Your attention. You left the company but you still don't seem to be here…with me.", It trickled from your lips in an honest answer, "You're everywhere all the time but not here."

The latter sentence felt like clawing its way out of your lungs, leaving you raw and sore on the inside for letting slip how much you really needed Elijah to throw you but a morsel of his affection every now and then. With that, you sensed your facade slipping away. The anger and pretentious pride had failed to cover up the puddle of hurt you felt yourself being drenched in and for a split second you pondered whether you really crushed that dainty champagne flute to gather his attention or if that had been you, punishing yourself for still craving his attention.

Whilst trying to take a deep breath, you noticed your chest trembling and your bottom lip quivering dangerously. You were unmistakably about to lose it completely but bit down onto your tongue harshly enough to keep yourself from falling apart at the seams.

"Turn around. Can you do that for me?" He withdrew his hand from your wrist to give you enough space to shuffle around underneath the expensive duvet.

In an haphazardly executed attempt to pull back the burning tears gathering at your lower lash line, you slowly turned around to look straight into an unexpectedly calm expression on Elijah’s face.

Calm or indifferent? It crossed your mind but you banished that thought right back to where it emerged from. Instead, your eyes slowly roamed over his features, from his lips that were slightly curled up into a hardly even there smile to his striking blue eyes and eventually up to the vagrant strands of his darkish blonde hair framing and softly falling into his face.

Looking at Elijah like that damn near killed you from the inside out because it reminded you of the version of him you had fallen in love with years ago. The witty and incredibly sharp CEO that worked alongside his developers instead of secluding himself in an ivory tower of vanity. The man that had even conducted the interview for your apprenticeship himself whilst cradling a cardboard cup of coffee in his hands, the fuzzy sleeves of a blue zipper pulled up to his knuckles, his eyes sparkling at you with endless excitement.

Now, barely anything of that warmth was left. With the years it all went down the drain of multimillion dollar deals over hordes and hordes of androids. Sometimes you felt as if Elijah grew a little colder with every android that sold and a part of you had started hating them for seemingly taking him away from you, eating away at his own humanity piece by piece. You couldn't decide whether or not those thoughts and speculations had anything to them, really, yet you couldn’t stop them from crossing your mind every now and then.

"Some days I wake up wishing to be just another android so you'd tend to me, Eli." The words bubbled out of you in an unbridled gush of emotions, just like the first burning tears spilling over your lash line.

"Come on now, that's nonsense. You're irreplaceable and you know that." Elijah’s brows arched up, closely knit together in a borderline scolding expression, disdain over your utterings washing across his face.

"Do I?", You sniffled, his harsh and cold response cutting right through you, "It's getting quite hard to hold on to that, Elijah, when the only thing you get reminded about on the daily is how utterly invisible you are."

"Stop that right there. You're not invisible to me and now you're just throwing around words." Elijah's eyes narrowed down on you in growing irritation.

"Throwing around words, yeah?", His dismissal came like a ladle full of ethanol to the embers of your rage fit, actively making you spew the most hurtful things that were waiting right at the tip of your tongue, "Do you fuck them?"

"Excuse me?" For a split second it seemed as if Elijah’s jaw was about to drop.

"Do you fuck your robots?" You repeated yourself, a surge of pride for having rendered him dumbfounded for the blink of an eye tugging at your lips before the mere thought of it turned you blind with jealousy.

"No." Elijah stated bluntly, his teeth slightly clenching.

"Oh?", You mocked, pushing it further, "How come?"

"Because none of them…", He sneered, his hand darting upward for it to grab you by the throat in a firm grasp, "None of them could ever be as feisty as you are, love."

You heard your breath hitching and felt Eli's thumb brush over your pulse point as he leaned in, his lips almost touching yours.

"Because I can't feel their pulse picking up or see their pupils widening like yours right now, getting so terribly worked up and flustered over being talked to like that, hm?", You were painfully aware how the heat crept into your face with every word of his, "Because my androids don't need to be put in their place because they wouldn't get so catastrophically mouthy and bratty, now would they?"

"No, no.", He answered his own question with a sly smirk playing around his mouth whilst the clasp of his hand grew tighter until he could feel every quickened pump of your heart right underneath his skin, "They follow a script, a code, they are boring…so unlike you."

Elijah leaned in further, eventually closing down on the tiny bit of space left between your bodies, his lips eagerly pressing onto yours for the first time in days. His proximity, the bare presence of him sent your mind reeling, it soothed the boiling anger in your chest but it wasn't enough, not enough in the slightest to still your aching need for his affection.

A slightly pained mewl of yours got muffled by his tongue snaking into your mouth as your hands practically clawed onto his sides, the brutalized one, with its countless thin cuts, flaring up anew.

"Ouw, does that hurt?" He cooed into your mouth, his free hand shooting towards yours resting on his hip and pressing down harder.

"I'm afraid that's what you get for being naughty, acting up like that. Poor little attention whore." The unmistakably derogatory tone in his voice jolted right amidst your thighs, causing you to clench and throb around nothing.

" 'M sorry…" It fell from your lips in a breathless moan, your words sincere.

You truly felt sorry about being so whiny and bitchy when Elijah gave you everything you could possibly dream of.

"Oh, shut up. I don't want to hear anything from you right now. Not a single fucking thing. You got that?" You nodded and choked back a whine as Eli latched his teeth at your bottom lip, pulling and dragging your head along until he let it slip again.

"There you go, looks like you can listen after all." To reward your silence, he freed your throat from his tight grasp but only to lean himself on his elbow whilst shoving himself on top of you.

On instinct, you spread your legs for him pathetically fast, calves wrapping around his waist in an instant.

"Good girl.", Elijah hummed against your cheek, nearly coaxing a whimper out of you as his other hand slid between your bodies, slender fingers playing over your trembling stomach and eventually down to align himself with your entrance, the tip of his cock prodding against your already oozing cunt, "I'd never fuck an android and you know why? Because they'd never just get oh so hot and desperately wet like you do, love."

His breathing rendered more labored with every inch of him that spearheaded into you, stretching you out to accommodate him properly. With furrowed brows, you bit down on your bottom lip, hiding your flustered face in his shoulder to shut down every possible sound that might come out of your mouth upon feeling Elijah drilling into you.

"Wouldn't waste a thought on it when I can just be balls deep inside your perfect pussy." His hushed voice intoxicated you as he started rocking his hips into your lap at a reckless pace right away, a heavy moan threatening to erupt from your lungs.

God, you wanted to groan and whine out your hammering arousal so badly but shoved it all back down your throat as hard as you possibly could. It almost felt like a sore, dry lump forming right behind your tongue that you couldn't do anything about but to swallow it over and over again.

"Not even I could build something so magnificent as you are." Eli's hot breath stroke over your jawline and everything in you clung onto these words, although, for the blink of an eye, you found yourself wondering if that was just him getting increasingly drunk on your body with each and every hard roll of his waist, not pulling out fully before hammering into you again.

"Maybe I should just knock you up sometime soon, huh?", In a weak attempt to steady yourself, you clawed at his back, fingernails digging into his skin, "Actually creating a life, I bet you'd love that, wouldn't you?"

Instead of words, your body delivered the answer to that. To silence everything that was just on the brink of shooting out of your mouth, your body convulsing and shuddering in a quiet orgasm, you bit down on your bottom lip so hard that you were almost sure to draw blood.

"Fuck, pulling me in so desperately." In a frantic rut, the rhythm of his movements gradually faltering, Elijah pressed his lips to yours again with a nearly bruising force.

"Such a good girl, trying to be obedient and quiet for me." He noted you violating your bottom lip whilst shoving himself into your spasming cunt as far as he could one last time before his own climax took over.

You felt it spurt out of him, filling you up that extra notch and it took every last bit of self-control to not just let your head loll back into the satin-covered pillows and whine out at the sensation.

"Fucking hell…that was so overdue, I give you that." With a low groan, Elijah pulled out of you, moving his body to collapse next to yours.

Letting your abused bottom lip finally slip from between your teeth, you felt the emotional whiplash washing right over the blissful release you experienced just moments before.

"Next time just tell me, no need to squash a glass with that pretty hand of yours."

#elijah kamski #dbh elijah kamski #detroit become human #detroit: become human #detroit: bh #elijah kamski x reader #elijah kamski x fem!reader #elijah kamski smut #neil newbon

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teecupangel · 10 months

Note

Another Desmond reborn as X, but this one is as Uberto Alberti's kid. Who we don't know anything about but "family" is the reason he betrayed his friend supposedly so I'd be interesting if Desmond could try and avoid it this time around.

According to the transcription of Uberto’s database in ACII:

Now, I found a backdoor into the Templars' database server, I've been combing it for some kind of smoking gun. I found it. Apparently, Uberto's family was evicted by the Medici bank. Uberto's been aching for revenge ever since, and the Templars promised him support. Ezio's father was standing in the way AND Uberto was jealous of his influence over the Florentine government. Two birds with one stone, isn't it? It looks like Uberto used his election to the Signoria as his opportunity to strike.

Apparently, he joined the Templars because the Medici evicted his family.

If he is part of the real House Alberti, there is no mentions of any evictions in wiki nor any mention of an Uberto. The Albertis were allies of the Medici as far as I read.

Returned to Florence, in the 15th century they were first allied to the Medici against the Albizzi. Main members of the period include writer Antonio Alberti, cardinal Alberto di Giovanni Alberti and architect and Renaissance theorist Leon Battista Alberti.

But wiki did say that they “divided into different lines, who owned several houses and towers near the modern Ponte alle Grazie” and “Some of them were admitted in the Venetian nobility late in the century” so maybe Uberto’s family wasn’t one of those few fortunate Albertis to gain nobility.

So, really…

Giovanni died and dragged his two sons with him because of his ties to the Medicis.

And Desmond would point that out.

In this setup, Desmond would probably think of Uberto as a good father as he did stress he did it for his family (although another setup is that Uberto is using the whole “I’m doing it for my family” to hide his greed and thirst for power but that would be a bit boring so we’ll go down the ‘a good man wishing to avenge his family’s misfortunes’ route instead).

So Desmond would want to protect his new family (especially if he has younger siblings). When they get evicted, Desmond understood why Uberto did what he did. Maybe add in the drama of the eviction being all of a sudden or not given any warning before they were evicted during a time when Firenze was having ‘money problems’.

Desmond knew that the Templars would contact Uberto then and tried to stop Uberto from saying yes to the Templars but he’d say that this was their only choice if they wish to protect their family.

(If you really wanna drive in a conundrum, one of Desmond’s siblings or his mother falls ill during this time and the financial support the Templars gave them is what kept them from dying or maybe said mother/sibling was already ill and almost died had it not been for the Templars’ money)

In the end, Desmond tries to leave the Auditores alone but, instead, Ezio found him and started to talk to him. Desmond couldn’t help but form a bond with Ezio anyway, maybe become a close friend who doesn’t really like to be seen with others.

Ezio knows Desmond spend most of his time caring for his ailing sibling/mother, and he remembers Petruccio so he has a soft spot for Desmond.

Anyway…

Uberto still becomes a Templar and Desmond tries to undermine him, first by trying to save the decoded message that Giovanni needed but that failed because Uberto knew that Desmond was trying to stop him so he’s become more ‘suspicious’. He never scolds Desmond though and he understands what his son is doing so he tells Desmond to continue to try and stop him…

“This way… no matter which sides wins, our family will be safe.”

And Desmond realized then and there that Uberto was ready to die if it meant their family would be safe and financially secured.

In the end…

Desmond helped Giovanni, Federico and Petruccio escape by unlocking their cage and telling them that Uberto’s a Templar. Desmond begs Giovanni to not kill Uberto, that he’ll be able to make Uberto understand that they have failed and they’ll leave Firenze, hell, they’ll leave all of Italia, just…

“Please… don’t kill padre.”

Giovanni promises not to kill Uberto if they leave Firenze as soon as possible.

And Desmond is able to persuade Uberto to do just that, telling him that revenge means nothing if it would lead to his death.

Now.

The happy ending would be that Desmond and Ezio would see each other and there will be this strain in their friendship because of Uberto’s betrayal that they will slowly get past.

But…

The more angst-filled route would be…

Lorenzo wants all the conspirators of the Pazzi conspiracy to be killed and Uberto was one of them. He orders Giovanni to kill Uberto and Giovanni tried to say no, at first, only to acquiesce once Lorenzo reminded him who he was ‘allies’ with.

Desmond finds an Assassin standing in front of his father’s bleeding corpse and the darkness and his shock made it hard for him to see the Assassin clearly.

All he knows…

… was that the Assassin was wearing Ezio’s robes…

In this setup, Desmond would be torn between wanting to take vengeance or being the person to cut the noose of revenge that keeps looping and looping around all of them.

His trust in the Auditores would be destroyed and Desmond would want to believe that it wasn’t Ezio, that maybe it was Giovanni or even Federico but a part of him would whisper that it could have been Ezio. Ezio wasn’t there when Desmond begged for his father’s life.

Last time he saw Ezio, he was wearing those robes…

And Desmond can’t…

… will not kill Ezio even if a part of him wished to avenge Uberto’s death.

They had no reason to kill him.

His family had exiled themselves away from Firenze, living as normal farmers of all things.

He…

He needed to know the truth.

And, once he knows it…

That’s when he’ll decide how to end this chain of vengeance.

With blood spilled… or not.

#it’s giovanni #giovanni’s the one who killed uberto #but desmond can’t be sure #his grief and desire for answers and vengeance is messing with his eagle vision #ezio has no idea that his father killed desmond’s father #federico told him desmond saved them and talked his father out of this entire thing #ezio misses desmond #but he also knows it’s better if they don’t see each other anymore #ezio and giovanni are wearing similar robes #too similar that desmond’s vague bleed memories think they’re the same #i don’t know what else to add #uuuhhh #lorenzo is just trying to avenge the death of his brother?#i guess?#no one is absolutely evil in this one #no #desmond won’t be a templar #his hatred for the borgias would not allow that #ask and answer #assassin's creed #desmond miles #ezio auditore #fic idea: assassin's creed #teecup writes/has a plot #uberto alberti

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xreaderanonaccount · 5 months

Text

The last Dance (Pantalone x AFAB!Reader)

It was late, and the masquerade party was almost over. But it doesn’t seem like you would be leaving any time soon. You stood next to Pantalone’s side as he chatted away with some random aristocrat. You were bored out of your mind, these types of parties are never fun. All you do is stand around as Pantalone’s trophy as people completely ignore your existence. Although Pantalone tells you that you are not his trophy it’s really hard to tell when you tried to join the conversation the aristocrats would give you disinterested looks before immediately changing the topic. Your mind wanders off looking around the big bright ball room. The architect was something to marvel at. But it was nothing like the small palace that you and Pantalone share. You internally sighed as you stare out the window, the big maze-like garden beckoning you to explore its beautiful floral. You glanced over at Pantalone who didn’t even glance at you, he just had his hand resting on your lower back. You internally sighed as you looked back out of the window. You notice the giant belltower towering over the maze garden, the time 11:03 p.m.57 more minutes till the masquerade is over. A small walk outside wouldn’t be bad, would it? If you had your guards with you then surely Pantalone won’t mind. A small scheming smile formed on your face as you spotted your personal guard Afon who was idly watching the two of you. You start to wander off before you feel a sudden grip on your wrist. You look back to see Pantalone staring intently at you.

“Where are you going my love?” His voice slightly above a whisper, clearly for a one on one conversation. But it was clearly not a one on one as all eyes of the aristocrats were on you.

“I’m feeling a little stuffy, my dear. I was going to waltz around the maze. That’s all.” You smile as you gently pull your arm back. Pantalone stared at you for a moment, analyzing your face before looking at something behind you.

“Alright my dear, just take Afon with you.” Pantalone gave a small chuckle before taking your hand again and planting a soft kiss on the back of your hand. You smile as you give a small bow to the rest of the aristocrats before heading over to Afon.

“Afon, may you walk with me through the garden maze?” You smile as you approach Afon who straightens up upon seeing you.

“Of course madam.” He gave a polite smile as he let you lead the way to the maze. As you walked out to the maze you expected the bitter cold to bite your skin. But to your pleasant surprise instead of the bitter cold, you felt a nice warmth wrapping you up like a soft blanket.

“I heard the master of this palace had the maze built inside a giant greenhouse,” Afon spoke up, staring up to the white metal cage, “so his wife can take a stroll outside without worrying about the bitter cold of Snezhnaya”. You gasp as you see some of the most beautiful flowers you have ever seen. The array of colors that litter the garden had you in awe. You walked around the garden with Afon close behind admiring each plant that caught your gaze.

“Do you think if I ask Lord Regrator for something like this he would give it to me?” You smile as you look back at Afon who just laughs.

“Lord Regrator would buy you three Jade Chambers if you so ask.” You laugh along with Afon as you continue your stroll stopping in front of the beautiful fountain. A small sigh escaped your lips as you swayed your body to the soft melody that was leaking out of the open windows. You smile as you imagine you and Pantalone dancing in a beautiful garden. You did a small twirl but tripped on a small pebble, you felt yourself falling backwards, Afon calling your name. You brace yourself for the fall. Yet it never came.

“My my my lily, you sure are clumsy.” Your eyes shot open, greeted with Pantalone who caught you in his arms.

“P-Pantalone!” You exclaimed trying to get up trying to readjust your dress. Pantalone chuckled as he watched you fluster over yourself. After you deemed yourself presentable you awkwardly glance over at Pantalone who just gave you a small smile. You glance back at the palace, the soft music comes to its crescendo. Your eyes sparkle as you remember the fantasy you lived through. You hear a soft chuckle before you were swept away by Pantalone. You stare into Pantalone in shock as gave you one of his genuine smiles. He pulled you close to his chest as he led you through the music. Your dress sway through the night, the fabric shining in the moonlight. You close your eyes allowing Pantalone to lead you two through the music. His mossy wood cologne fills your senses, making you feel so safe in his arms. He pulls you away, giving you a little twirl before dipping you down. The music coming to its climatic end. You two stared into each other's eyes, the belltower rang through the cold night sky. Pantalone stares into yours for a moment before leaning down capturing your lips with his. The kiss was soft and tender as he held you tight. Pulling you away he helped you up from the dip, draping his overcoat over your shoulder.

“It’s getting late my dear, let us head back to the Palace. I have some paperwork to finish.” Pantalone whispers into your skin, his breath tickling your ears.

“Finally, I’ve been bored out of my mind.” You sigh as you dramatically throw yourself onto him. Pantalone chuckled at your antics as he gestured towards Afon who was standing in the shadows.

“Alright my love, let’s head home.” He smiles, guiding you out of the palace.

A/N: divider credits: cafekitsune

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #pantalone x reader #fatui harbingers x reader #fatui harbingers #pantalone x female reader

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inversionimpulse · 8 months

Text

For Kaguya, immortality is being infinitely alive. It is joyous and infinitely so. After growing up in a world eternally between and devoid of life and death, to experience life is all she ever wanted. Life, death, good, bad--she wants all of it, and with the Hourai Elixir, she has it. There is so much life out there to see, and she has all the time in eternity to enjoy it. Oh, sure, it seems that person after person wants to hide her from the world and hide the world from her ‘for her own protection,’ but, really, a whole society and a distance of 382500 kilometres could not bar her way. What is a mansion and a forest compared to that?

For Mokou, immortality is never dying. She can blow herself up, burn herself to ashes, and still wake up in the morning. She can die infinitely and never die. For much of her life, that has been a misery. All of the existential despair of living without direction or purpose or meaning dragged on into infinity. But the thing is... that with time, it became a blessing. Because there are joys in her life and there will continue to be joys in her life. Transient joys, and eternal joys, and all kinds that make life worth living. If she had been able to die when she wanted to, she never would have seen them... but then again, if she had, she wouldn’t have also had to survive all those miserable centuries. There are ups and downs and, if she has no other option, best to enjoy the ups for all they’re worth. It’s been said that you can do anything forever as long as you know you can stop at any time - I think if Mokou could die, she wouldn’t, but it’s not having the choice that pains her.

For Eirin, immortality is the ultimate fruit of her unassailable genius. You might ask “but what about the ethical and existential concerns? What is it like for you to be immortal?” and she will smile and redirect the conversation to be about her work anyway. Is she too proud to admit to the negative effects of her work now that she’s realized them? Is she so confident and self-assured that she simply will not perceive them? Is it because, as goddess of thought who has already lived for billions of years and will continue to live as long as there are thinking beings, immortality makes really very little difference? ... In fact, could it be that she was always destined for eternity--As embodiment of thought and also a thinking being herself, could she sustain herself unto infinity--could she be Cogito Ergo Sum made flesh, the self-evident, absolute, and undeniable truth that thought proves the existence of the thinker even if all other reality ceases to be or never was?

Unknown. And irrelevant.

Eirin is a perfect mind and so everything she designs is necessarily also perfect. Not only the Hourai Elixir, but also all of her other medicines, and also the lunar society that she was architect of, and the gilded cage she keeps Kaguya in, and the thread of doubt that may one day unravel her her counter-plan that foiled Yukari’s second lunar invasion

#touhou #eirin yagokoro #kaguya houraisan #fujiwara no mokou #touhou project #headcanon #meta #A queue in the dark beguiles me

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