#blue dream is for processing

[emotopunkpipeline]

I 100% truly believe that the next step in human evolution is to ever strive towards a communal and stateless and interconnected society. Where we use our most advanced adaptation, our brains and their cognitive and regulatory abilities, to elevate the existence of ourselves and every being on this earth. We learn that our greatest powers are our abilities to connect and nurture and protect and analyze and improve, not to produce. To connect. To understand. That is how we grow and move forward. We can imagine that future.

[emotopunkpipeline]

I think there's more to it than that. I think it genuinely means that you can't share in authentic love until you know who you authentically are. People can only love as much of you as you are able to share with them, and being able to share your authentic self is a practice of self love.

"No one can love you until you love yourself" is like the worst possible way of articulating "if you don't respect and value yourself, it's very easy to become attracted to people who don't treat you right and then justify their mistreatment, so be careful."

[annqer]

my contrition is like ashes, help me in my final condition

[hylianane]

And when OPLA calls back to Zeff telling the crew to read stories to Zoro so he can hear their voices and recover faster, by having Sanji sit by his bedside on Thriller Bark and read him a book about the All Blue. What will you do then?

[howlsofbloodhounds]

I think we could normalize Killer bullying and getting angry Nightmare sometimes.

Like...Nightmare can REALLY be a pain the ass.

I mean, I like the fanon interactions with them, but I would also like to see how their dynamic would work in canon, y'know?

I believe that Killer probably would be annoyed with him.

So what he would do?

He would do pranks to him and bully him, not being scared with Nightmare's anger because he knows that his boss needs him. So he would piss him off because of this benefit.

Remember that fanart of Killer shoving Nightmare face in the snow? So...I imagining his bullying tatics being like this-

I wouldn’t be surprised at all if Killer physically takes out all his repressed dissociated rage and spite on those he knows for sure he can harm and potentially get away with, such as Dream or Swap, if he can find a reason to get violent or to not hold back—such as Swap inviting himself in Killer’s space over and over again, fighting against Dream on the battlefield or trying to capture him on NM’s orders, etc.

Meanwhile, he verbally and psychologically bullies Nightmare; fucking with his emotions and his head right back. His ass would not be afraid or hesitant to gaslight Nightmare, nor to take glee in any pain or discomfort the old man is in.

But there definitely should be a lot more fanfics and fanart of Killer bullying Nightmare physically for fun and laughs. People have been drawing NM doing that to Killer for years and it was always depicted as funny jokes, so why not let Killer do the same thing right back. Nightmare deserves it. Let Killer throw him into the garbage bins or set him on fire, or peacefully dream about gouging out his only remaining eye, why not.

[rexwrendraws]

spotted on the wall behind the white horse theater!!

Happy one year to Bolt in the Blue by @valeriianz ! Truly the best band au fics I've ever read, I am Endless' #2 fan forever (#1 is Hob, of course) 💙🎸✨

+ alt. colors for the flyer & other scans:

i love taking advantage of my art uni's massive (MASSIVE) scanners for literally anything i can. it's got the most gorgeous grit and scan banding that photoshop trickery cant replicate (though i try lol). so, yes, i literally printed out the b&w flyers, scanned them in, then added color and printed them again to stick on my wall haha.

when digitally adding color, i wanted it to really feel like black ink on colored paper instead of trying to print on color paper and then scan it again (i have done this before idk). i think the xerox-y look is pretty convincing! the green, pink, and purple are my personal favs.

an irl friend suggest i try non-black-ink versions to see what i liked. i think they look cool but some of the text gets a bit lost. still, i like the pale yellow+red ink one. (this almost makes me want to try riso printing this to see what it'd look like 👀👀).

^ this is what the white horse metal barrier edit looked like before I added the Huji Cam filter lol. it wasn't feeling convincing enough like this, so i actually took a photo of my laptop screen with the filter and somehow that looked more real than the actual shot from the show lol. (also, because i've stared at this screenshot for so long, the orange/yellow June 12th poster? is everything on it a reference?? loll)

anyway, had a lot of fun making this!! feel free to print if you want!! READ THE FIC EVERYONE GO READ BOLT IN THE BLUE RIGHT NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[starryyvenus]

I just finished the raven king and I don’t know what to feel now like what do I do??????

[faithandfairies]

"The Suit Changes Nothing"

So, I'm still reading the Interview with the Vampire book and it's baffling, but the Freniere situation in the book really tells you a lot about both Lestat's and Louis' thought processes in relation to Louis' turning.

See, in the book Louis is pretty tight lipped about his turning initially. You get the sense he presents it as he felt at the time, overwhelmed, disoriented, wanting to use Lestat and vampirism to punish himself for his brother's death, numb from grief, but also extremely awed by and attracted to Lestat and unable and unwilling to say no to his own turning because of it.

At the time of or I guess right before his turning he's also very much suicidal and pretty much looking for something to strike him dead, which Lestat does, seemingly fulfilling his deep desire to die. In the end it seems Lestat only gives Louis the choice between death and vampirism. Life as he knew it never being on the table again once Lestat catches wind of him.

And Louis actually ends up using Levi Freniere in the book to explain how he felt about his own turning after the fact. He also explains what Lestat was like when he'd set his sights on someone.

I've mentioned this before but he starts the Freniere tale by saying

"I shall give you a perfect example of what Lestat liked."

He then goes on to say

"Up the river from us was the Freniere plantation, a magnificent spread of land which had great hopes of making a fortune in sugar, just shortly after the refining process had been invented."

Given that he uses Freniere's situation to actually talk about his own situation, this to me is him describing himself in terms of land. Not just any land, but coveted, promising land. Coveted by and promising to Lestat.

Which makes sense given that every time before in this book when he talks about Lestat wanting him he actually words it as "Lestat wanted my plantation."

And you know it was never about land because he contradicts himself on this later by saying

"And so he [as in Lestat] could acquire cash at any moment and I [as in Louis] could invest it. If he were not picking the pocket of a dead man in an alley, he was at the greatest gambling tables in the richest salons of the city, using his vampire keenness to suck gold and dollars from young planters' sons who found him deceptive in his friendship and alluring in his charm. But this had never given him the life he wanted, and so for that he had ushered me into the preternatural world that he might acquire an investor and manager for whom these skills of mortal life became most valuable in this life after."

[Interesting that he uses "suck" as the conjugated verb for this.]

I've always loved the gambling scene between Louis and Lestat on the show. It perfectly conveys what Lestat is there for even while he seems to be trying to deceive Louis into thinking he's simply looking for a business partner. Louis doesn't completely buy it on the show, but he allows it. The show was right to somewhat make that a pivotal moment, the first time Louis chooses Lestat.

In the book Louis is using the gambling scene to contradict himself, by saying Lestat did not in fact have to turn him to acquire his plantation. That they most likely met at a gambling table, where he found Lestat deceptive in his friendship and alluring in his charm and Lestat could have simply cheated him out of the deed to his plantation if that was all he wanted. But Lestat did not want the plantation without Louis. He wanted a home with Louis. And so he turned him instead.

But back to the Freniere situation that thoroughly explains this.

So Louis uses the opulence of the Freniere sugar plantation to explain what he looked like to Lestat. He's also sad and talks about unhappiness as he does this and then he says:

"This refined sugar is a poison. It was like the essence of life in New Orleans, so sweet that it can be fatal, so richly enticing that all other values are forgotten"

Louis is still talking about what Lestat likes at this point. But the thing is, Lestat likes him, pretty much only him. And here, he seems to be mourning everything he is that made him attractive to Lestat.

The way he describes the Freniere plantation, that is how Lestat saw him, magnificent, refined, great potential, innovative, so enticing it's overwhelming and making you forget everything else that matters. Notice that none of this is about physical features. It's about what's inside.

The way he words it he's talking about the allure of his blood to Lestat, but he's also talking about sex. About his and Lestat's mutual attraction to each other. To the point where neither of them cared about anything or anyone else. Pretty much describing the way they saw and felt about each other as overwhelming.

They do this in the show too, but using the analogy of a suit. Louis reminiscing on the possibility of him and Lestat not being attracted to each other, him not being noticed by Lestat if he had maybe worn a different suit the night he met Lestat. But that the suit changes nothing. Because it doesn't change what's inside. It doesn't change that he and Lestat wanted each other. It doesn't change that he's gay and that made him fundamentally capable of being attracted to Lestat. It doesn't change the fact that for Lestat it was never about the suit. Lestat saw Louis and liked what he saw sure, but he read Louis' mind before he truly chose him. It was always about what's inside. Lestat was never not going to notice or choose Louis because Louis could not change who he was at his core, which is what actually attracted Lestat to him.

Louis also talks about how he felt about Lestat turning him and it's funny because I've written an entire post on this in relation to the show before I ever started reading the book because they don't draw too much attention to it on the show. But now I realize it's described extensively in the book.

You see, Freniere was supposed to fight in a duel because he insulted a Spanish Creole boy and might potentially die because of it. And Lestat intended to kill Freniere before he could die in the duel.

Louis kind of says that Freniere was an idiot for getting himself mixed up in a duel over nothing but that he did not deserve certain death at Lestat's hands because of it.

Louis also says

"He [Freniere] was to negotiate marriages, to put together dowries [for his sisters] when the entire fortune of the place rode precariously on the next year's sugar crop"

"If Freniere died, the plantation would collapse. Its fragile economy, a life of splendor based on the perennial mortgaging of the next year's crop, was in his hands alone. So you can imagine the panic and misery in the Freniere household the night that the son went to town to fight the appointed duel."

The interviewer then asks Louis

"You mean then...that you felt for the Freniere women?"

which would be Freniere's sisters who would be left destitute if he died, being the only male in his family, the only one who could provide for them. Louis even says that it sucks because Levi has at least one sister who might be smarter than him but was never taught to run the plantation because she was born a girl.

and Louis answers

"I felt for them totally. Their position was agonizing. And I felt for the boy. That night he locked himself in his father's study and made a will. He knew full well that if he fell under the rapier at four a.m. the next morning, his family would fall with him."

It makes me think Lestat partly stayed with Louis at the plantation because it's what Louis wanted. Lestat wanted Louis. Louis wanted to continue to provide for his family.

Which brings me to the extent to which Lestat wanted Louis.

Louis explains Lestat's obsession with him through the Freniere situation. And Lestat's vampire predator nature has everything to do with it.

Louis says

"Lestat decided he wanted him[Freniere]. And now picture Lestat, gnashing his teeth like a comic opera devil because he was not going to kill the young Freniere [since he might die in the duel first]. "

"I'd [as in Louis] prevented him [Lestat] from killing the boy for months and now he meant to kill him before the Spanish boy could."

"We were on horseback, racing after the young Freniere towards New Orleans, Lestat bent on overtaking him, I bent on overtaking Lestat."

"I was incensed at Lestat as never before, and he was determined to get the boy. 'Give him his chance!' I was insisting"

"To glut himself upon the life of an entire family [by killing or turning their provider] was to me Lestat's supreme act of utter contempt and disregard for all he should have seen with a vampire's depth."

Long story short Lestat races towards the duel against the sunrise and with Louis after him, putting both their lives in danger. Louis tries to restrain Lestat to keep him from killing Freniere right before the duel. Freniere doesn't die in the duel but in the commotion of him not dying and Louis trying to save him after as the duel partner goes for a gun after he's lost the duel, Lestat attacks and kills Freniere anyway.

Lestat wanted Freniere. He hunted this boy for months with the intention to kill him and nothing could or did stand in his way.

Louis tells his story, articulating his feelings about his turning after the fact, using Freniere as a stand-in. Beyond the overwhelm and awe and attraction and disorientation he felt in the moment.

Because initially he describes his turning as inevitable and the circumstances around his turning as first wanting to die after his brother's suicide and Lestat then draining him on his doorstep. Being overwhelmed by Lestat, being in awe of Lestat. But also wanting to be damned. To be punished because he and his family blamed him for his brother's death and intending to use vampirism and Lestat as a way to punish himself for it.

It isn't until Freniere, that Louis uses that story to voice the anger, the rage, he feels at Lestat taking him wanting to throw his life away at face value and then actually taking it from him and (almost) leaving Louis' family destitute by doing so. And being even angrier knowing that on some level he chose it [although in my opinion consent was dubious and on the show you see Lestat realize this in real-time over time, that Louis wasn't in the right headspace at all to consent to something of that magnitude.]

And so in this book Louis mourns everything that made him attractive to Lestat. He mourns being attracted to Lestat. But as he says on the show "The suit changes nothing".

[endlessmazin]

Ancient Glitch Spirit

[cabeswaterdrowned]

compilation of Adam thinking about Gansey during and directly after his break up with Blue

[nullians]

My brain needs to stop genre shifting things I’ve watched in my dreams for real like… this is tiring. I did not sign up for a the dead revival horror when I watched B/ue Eye Samurai. Please.

[painsandconfusion]

Writers, here’s your reminder that you should be doing warm-ups!

Athletes need to warm up. Musicians need to warm up. Artists need to warm up. Heck, I even have to play a few matches in video games before I get into a groove every day.

Warm-ups help you get into the right headspace, give you more control of your actions and word choice, get you comfortable in your physical setting (eg: with your keyboard, notebook, tablet, or whatever you're writing with), and spark creativity.

Even if you don’t think you have spoons to write, sit down and do a couple warm-ups. If you still don’t want to, that’s alright. But. I think you’ll be surprised how often they help break that ice.

5-15 minutes is all you need. I personally set a timer for ten minutes each time and do not stop writing until the time is up. Your warm-up can be anything at all so long as it gets you writing and starts nudging those creative juices.

Here's some common warm-ups:

Journaling. Just jot down some notes about your day. Feel free to really lean into something that you noticed. We're going for description and details -- try to avoid settling into a spiral or focusing on something negative that will upset your creativity.

Short story prompts. Type that into Pinterest and pick the most ridiculous, cliche thing you can. Write a little scene, story summary, or even a rant about why you do or don't like the prompt. Just write.

Vocab challenge. If you like a bit more critical thinking to get you in the zone, have a random vocabulary word generator spit out five or so words. Check their meanings and jot down a little story or thought that includes all five. You get more familiar with beautiful and descriptive language, and it gives you a much narrowed prompt (which is lovely if you're like me and suffer each time there's an open-ended task assigned).

Character moments. Try putting your character into a generic setting and write down almost meticulously what their thought process would be. Follow them realizing they've just stepped in mud or dreading the start of the day. Pick a mundane thing and describe them working through it. This will not only get your writing going, but it will wake up the character's voice in your head.

Ongoing storytelling. Did you know that Whinnie the Poo was A.A. Milne's warm up story? He would jot down a quick little story with those very basic characters and did so every day. Whatever came to mind. He kept writing little tidbits on the same characters and eventually it turned into a series. Having that ongoing plot with isolated scenes and simple characters can help you feel more motivated to sit down and write.

Get-to-know-you-questions. Google a list of basic first-date questions (there are a million out there) and answer one yourself. Go into specifics. Where do you most want to travel and why? Let yourself ramble until the question is fully answered.

Writer's block blues. This is a favorite of mine. If you're truly stuck, write about being stuck. Eg: 'I'm supposed to write for ten minutse, but that feels so stupid and impossible. No one is goign to read this anyway. I have no ideas and the page is so overwhelming when its blank. I used to be able to write on and on and nothing could stop me. it was like breathing. but now I have nothign and do nothing and I can't even do a stupid prompt-' Even the rambling and ranting got me writing. It made things easier. It made writing this post easier. Also -- notice the typos? Yeah, don't fix those. You're in writing mode, not editing mode when you're doing this. If you edit while you write, you're forcing yourself to stay in your executive and calculating headspace rather than falling fully into creativity and dream. Ignore the mistakes. That's for future you to handle.

I've officially rambled far too much, but I hope that helps even a little bit. Live well and write often, my friends. Best of luck to you <3

[zephierthafangirlx3]

a bit of a dream dump

heres a couple of dreams i had n the past couple nites.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

thursday

i was running around the conagher slaughterhouse (i was completely unaware of any1 watchign me), and i suddenly felt frozen. i looked over 2 see maynard staring at me confused, meanwhile i was just standing still as 2 not alert him any further. he ended up walking away as if nuthn happened, BUUTTT it doesnt end there.

i walked around in circlez stimming and wutnott, and i looked back only 4 my heart 2 stop 4 a second as i stood almost completely still, as i stared at zed (yea i felt screwed). i passed out abt a minute later with pink ALL OVER MY FACE (yea. i was embarrased 4 lettign myself b spotted by himm). i woke up confuzzled abt wut happend, and zed had the AUDACITY 2 actuallly ask me if i LIKED him (ofc i said yes obvi).

i woke up back at home in a cold sweat thinkign "wut dafauq just happend???.." i hav no idea wut it was supposed 2 mean, but it was odd.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

friday

i woke up, back at the conagher slaughterhouse. i was thinking "oh god how is this gunna go?.??...." but i still walked around, albeit moar cautious (i was NOTT gona make that mistake againg). i saw maynard and zed talking abt sumthn. i was planingg 2 eavsdrop a bit closer buuutttttt the STUPID PHONE had 2 ring up, and i quickly hid under the desk (it was the 1 thing that was closest 2 me). i was trying so hard not 2 make any noise.

i overheard them talking 2 dell or sumthn. i was very silent, and iwas terrified of gettign caught by them. i "acidentally" let out a tiny af sqeak, and heard nothinhg but silence. i was annxious abt tthe fact that they mightve heard me. they seemed 2 shrugh it off but that was a damn lie, cuz zed saw me down there, staring off in2 the void like area. he got my atentionn by dragging me out frum under the desk and in2 HIS FUCKING ARMS (my face went fully pink in a panik). i was confuzzled and passed out frum a single kiss. yep. he acttuallly kissed me and i liked it :)

i woke up n a "panik kalm PANIK" type state, cunfuzzlzllzed abt y i liked that dream sm. i rmembrr thinkkighn "wut dafauq just happend and y do i like it????......."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

i still vividly rrmembre the second dream 2 this day (ALL BCUZ OF ZED)

soooooo yea thatz my dream dumps 4 a couple of my dreamzzzzz lollzzzz

[kthologue]

𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 (𝐢) – 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

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

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

series masterlist | chapter 1/2

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

THE PRESENT —

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

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

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

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

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

“And Kento?” You light up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A nervous chuckle escaped your lips. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is it really her?”

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

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

“Poor Lady Himiko.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“May I ask something of you?”

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

“Anything,” he breathes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your eyes widen at his confession.

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How strange.

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

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

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

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

You laugh, “You know him too well!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is going on here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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[gojosconsort]

hii i love ur work can you please write smth about mean!satoru fucking his virgin gf?

𓂃୨ৎ mdni. virginity loss, degradation, manhandling, spanking, tears, fingering, overstimulation, aftercare

you’re curled on the couch, drowning in satoru’s oversized hoodie, legs tucked under you, heart skittering with nerves. you’ve been waiting all night, stomach twisting since he texted this morning—tonight’s the night, baby. be ready. every sound’s had you jumping, expecting him, and now you’re half-dozing, anxiety and anticipation tangling in your chest. the door clicks open, and he’s there, footsteps deliberate, looming over you, blue eyes sharp and gleaming.

“sleeping without me?” he teases, voice low, a smirk tugging at his lips as he crouches down, brushing a strand of hair from your flushed face. you open your mouth to stammer something about waiting, how you’ve been a nervous wreck, but he’s already pulling you up, hands firm on your wrists, tugging you toward the bedroom with a purpose that makes your pulse race. “no more waiting,” he says, glancing back, his grin all teeth. “we said tonight, and you’re mine.”

you stumble after him, heart thudding, expecting soft kisses, maybe a slow buildup like in your daydreams. but satoru doesn’t do slow—not now. he pushes you onto the bed, silk sheets cool against your skin as the hoodie rides up, baring your thighs. “s-satoru, hold on—” you start, but he’s on you, pinning your wrists above your head with one hand, his grip tight, unyielding.

“hold on?” he leans close ‘til his breath grazes your ear. “you’ve been driving me crazy for months, baby, looking all sweet and untouchable. time’s up.” his words sting, but there’s heat in them, a hunger that makes your core clench, your panties already damp. he notices, eyes flicking down, and his smirk widens. “knew you’d want this,” he murmurs, free hand slipping under the hoodie, finding you soaked through the thin fabric.

you gasp as his fingers press against you, circling slow, teasing, not enough to satisfy. “please,” you whimper, hips bucking, and he chuckles, pulling back to strip off his shirt, jeans dropping to reveal his cock—hard, thick, daunting. your eyes widen, doubt creeping in, but he’s already spreading your thighs, slapping the inside of one lightly, the sting sparking heat through you. “don’t tense up now,” he says, voice sharp but threaded with want. “you’re taking me tonight.”

he doesn’t ease you into it—two fingers plunge deep, stretching you, curling fast, and you cry out, the burn blending into pleasure too quick to process. “so tight,” he groans, eyes half-lidded, clearly savoring it, his fingers pumping harder, thumb grazing your clit. “fuck, i’ve been dreaming about this.” you’re trembling, overwhelmed, but he doesn’t stop, working you ‘til you’re dripping, body pliant under him.

“satoru,” you plead, voice shaking, and he leans down, kissing you hard, all teeth and tongue, swallowing your sounds. “no more teasing,” he mutters against your lips, pulling his fingers out, slick and glistening. he lines himself up, the head of his cock nudging your entrance, and you tense, nervous. “relax,” he orders, mean edge softening just a fraction as he strokes your thigh. “you’re gonna love it.”

he thrusts in one fluid motion, deep, filling you completely, and you scream, the stretch searing but tipping into something wild, something good. satoru groans, low and guttural, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to mark. “fuck,” he breathes, pausing just to feel you, his voice cracking with how good it is. “so perfect—shit, you’re squeezing me so tight.” he’s losing it, eyes locked on where you’re joined, clearly drunk on finally being inside you, his control fraying with every twitch of your walls around him.

he doesn’t wait—pulls out and slams back in, setting a ruthless pace, each thrust rocking you up the bed. “thought you could keep me waiting forever?” he taunts, yanking your hips higher, one hand fisting your hair to pull your head back. “you’re mine now.” it’s mean, possessive, but you’re moaning, thighs trembling, pleasure spiking higher than the pain. he spanks you once, sharp, grinning when you jolt and whimper, clearly enjoying how you respond.

“too much,” you sob, tears streaming, but it’s not—you’re close, body clenching, chasing it. satoru sees it, leans down, kissing a tear away, his thrusts never slowing. “you can take it,” he murmurs, softer now, but still commanding. “fuck, you feel so good.” he’s enthralled, groaning with every thrust, loving the heat, the tightness, the way you break under him. you come hard, shaking, crying, and he follows, spilling deep with a ragged moan, savoring every pulse.

he collapses beside you, pulling you close, gentle now. “you okay, baby?” he whispers, wiping your tears, kissing your sweaty forehead. he checks you over, rubbing your wrists, cleaning you up with a warm cloth, voice soft as he murmurs praises. “you did so well,” he says, wrapping you in his arms, stroking your hair ‘til you relax. “i’ve got you, always.”

[laikiirnodel]

I'm imagining the baseline and a gravely voice (alternately a chorus of voices) and some percussion played on - wait, are those human bones?

i should tell you guys that i woke up in a cold sweat at 2:30 this morning to write something down in notes app

what.