#crucible guard

[lorianbladeoflothric]

Re: that last reblog, I’m not usually the biggest fan of “let’s swap the characters around” type aus but the idea of Mohg and Morgott escaping the Shunning grounds and growing their own erdtree is cute

I mean one demigod created the Haligtree so I think those two could make something similar to a mini crucible out in the badlands. And like other omens would hear about them and tell their younger brethren, break rank during the chaos of wars when they’re allowed above ground (and nobody would notice or care if they never came back) and set off to find it.

The early days would be rough bc they’d both definitely have different ideas of how to run things (Morgott wants a pastiche of the golden order, Mohg wants freaky blood cult shit) but like they’re thousands of years old so they’d definitely have it figured out by the time the tarnished roll around.

And if you actually wanna make this a swap, that would mean dragging the Haligtree twins into it so Miq ends up staying in Leyndell to be the only goddamn thing keeping it together during a siege (wearing the mimic veil so he looks like an adult) and Lennie is chilling in that temple in the lake of rot bc the sealed god got in her head as a kid and made her obsessed with her curse. But that’s not as fun to me bc I’m just 🥺🥺🥺 about the omen twins getting to live like decently happy lives.

[gotyouanyway]

ace didn’t deserve all that if i’m honest

[drenched-in-sunlight]

i don’t think it’s talked about enough that the reason there’s a Godwyn ending where he becomes a Lord (not a God) is because symbolically, he was mirroring Godfrey in more than just name.

Godwyn’s alive body sprouting fish tail and scales isn’t just a random design choice, it’s a reference to Confucius' The Book of Rites, where it’s stated that the subjugation of the Four Divine Beasts will grant the person who tamed them different kind of control:

- Dragon -> control over animals with scales (specifically, FISH. See?)

- Qilin (Lion) -> control over beasts (think of how the Hornsent coveting the power of the Crucibles via the lion dance ritual. The “lion” in lion dance is Qilin in the native language of Asian countries that celebrate that tradition. And it’s why Godfrey’s symbol is a lion, why lion imagery plays such important role in Elden Ring world)

- Phoenix -> control over birds

- Turtle -> control over the heart of men (this might be a reach but Miquella’s connection to the Carian family and thus, the Turtle Pope could be a nice parallel to this)

in Godfrey’s cut dialogues, he said “Dearest Marika is precisely what I must take back” and “Dear Marika, do not fear. I am returned.”, and even without all that, The Talisman of Lord’s Bestowal stated that Godfrey accepted his duty without any sign of wavering, even taking Serosh upon his back so he could conduct himself as a Lord worthy of her. Bro, he loves that girl, he passed Messmer’s vibe check with flying colors.

For Godwyn to be a fruit of such a loving union, i do think Godfrey instilled in him a sense of duty to protect his Mother, and there’s his own love and devotion to her as well. Leyndell Knights all use Dragon Cult incantations and buffs - the kind of power that is only available to them because Godwyn befriended Fortissax (which is why i said that move has an ulterior motive to it).

All of that brings me to this main point I’m trying to make: does Godwyn really that devoid of agency?

I see it’s a popular interpretation in the fandom that oh Godwyn was just a symbol, he had no voice, we never knew what he wanted, etc etc… Do we really not know though?

Sorry for slapping another fandom on this, but this is really relevant to my understanding of Elden Ring as a story, even with the base written by a Western author, was developed by a Japanese team of storytellers and designers:

The concept of soul - body and body snatching etc etc exists a lot in Asian media, and there’s always a general consensus that the body remembers even as the soul perishes. What is Godwyn’s body is doing? The game specifically states that his body is alive. He only perishes in soul.

He was infesting the Erdtree’s roots, spreading Death around like free real estate. If he wanted to let go of life, of his Mother, his body should have just let go on its own. But no, he was tenaciously clinging to the Erdtree, to Marika.

Even Fortissax remembrance stated that despite its best effort, it could not fight back the Death within its friend. If Godwyn really, truly wanted to embrace a true death, would his body just let Fortissax fight alone in an uphill battle like that?

Then there is the DLC revealed that Godwyn’s personal knights were in LoS to find and guard his cadaver surrogate, specifically for the Age of the Duskborn. Their helm stated that their loyalty to him is unbroken. So will they just go and do something that their Master would not want?

These Knights are literally an elite circle that was bestowed the most precious of jewels in Godfrey’s time (the +3 medallions), they aren’t merely good, they are the very best. They are Godwyn’s inner circle the same way the Fire Knights are said to be the ones who know Messmer best.

Even if you think Fia and Those Who Lived in Death were just taking advantage of Godwyn’s death… her endgame goal technically did not even succeed. She wanted to be Mother to TWLiD, but the ending very much shows that the Mending Rune was returned to Marika’s womb. It’s her who would birth Godwyn a second life, so the True Mother™ to TWLiD… would actually be Marika 💀

Like, am i the only one who saw this as some real crazy 4D chess Uno reverse move from Godwyn? Oh these ppl wanted to get rid of him then took advantage of his body? Fine, he would take that challenge and run a mile with it. If Age of Duskborn came, it meant Ranni didn’t succeed, Fia didn’t actually get to be Mother of TWLiD, Death - the very thing that Marika tried to seal, would now be something within her control, because Godwyn is its Lord now. Exactly like how the Dragons’ power became something wielded in Marika’s favor in the end. Thanks to him.

In the Duskborn ending, bro, the God would still be Marika. It’s the only possible new Age involving a demigod that doesn’t get rid of her. Even if it utilize heretical powers to get there.

And the crazier thing? This is not the first time Fromsoft did this, btw.

[soneblomsblog]

okay so my request is;

monster cha hyun su (in season 2) x reader.

the reader helped hyun su escape when those people tried experimenting on him, hurt him etc and when the reader was in danger his monster side saved us

(i’m so down bad for him 😭)

Warning: mention of guns/gunshot wounds, season 2 spoilers

Monster Cha Hyun-soo x reader

In the eerie silence of the laboratory, the stench of chemicals hung heavy in the air as you, determined and courageous, guided Cha Hyun Soo through the maze of confinement. His eyes, grateful and haunted, and confused as too why you're helping him. At first he didn't believe you he was hesitant but when you grabbed his hand and pulled him along with you.

"I won't hurt you" you said these words to him looking him in the eyes. He couldn't help but feel a sort of connection with you his monster side pulling at the edge of his mind

The flickering lights overhead barely illuminated the desperation etched on his face, a silent plea for freedom. As you navigated the dim corridors, distant echoes of approaching footsteps heightened the tension. The oppressive atmosphere bore down on you both, but your shared determination fueled the escape.

Suddenly, the silence shattered, replaced by the sound of alarms as the experimenters discovered your daring breakout. Dr. Lim probably behind everything as he always had a eye on you.

Panic set in as you griping Hyun Soo hand tighter you both sprinted through the complex, evading capture at every turn. His monstrous strength, became a shield against the relentless pursuit. As you reached the exit, a hail of gunfire erupted, catching you off guard.

A searing pain ripped through you, and you stumbled, clutching your wounded side. Hyun Soo's was relieved when they finally made it outside. Smiling he turned towards you but the smile dropped as he saw you standing looking like you saw a ghos, holding your side where the sight of blood started to coat your hand.

His protective instincts kicked in the monster inside him coming to surface at the sight of you hurt.

With a shout, he shielded you from further harm, his strength overwhelming the attackers. As the chaos subsided, he knelt beside you, the monstrous facade fading to reveal the haunted gaze of a man who had experienced too much.

His gentle touch met the wound, a mix of worry and guilt in his eyes. In that moment, the bond formed in the crucible of escape became something deeper. You, the person he least expected a scientist no less helped him escape, now found solace in his protective embrace, a silent acknowledgment of never letting you get hurt clouded his mind making Hyun-soo tighten his grip on you.

[ninibeingdelulu]

—headcanons ft. rin itoshi

Rin puts up rigid walls around himself, an icy facade hardened by years of relentless training and single-minded focus on his goal. To the other Blue Lock players and coaches, he's the picture of stoic detachment and arrogant confidence on the pitch.

But in rare, stolen moments just the two of you share, you glimpse the tender heart Rin guards so fiercely beneath those frigid layers. His intense blue-green eyes seem to soften around the edges, crinkling at the corners when you draw a genuine smile from him.

He's loath to admit it, but Rin craves your reassuring touch when the pressures and mind games weigh too heavily. You'll feel his body slowly unwind as you card gentle fingers through his inky locks or trace soothing patterns over the taut muscles of his back and shoulders.

While acidic barbs and dismissive scoffs roll easily off his tongue around the others, Rin's voice takes on a lower, quieter timbre in your company. You've even caught the barest hint of tenderness underpinning his usual blunt candor when he murmurs your name.

Not one for frivolous displays, Rin still can't resist the urge to drinking you in with his gaze when you're absorbed in a task. He maps every curve and plane of your features with an unguarded longing he'd never unveil publicly. In these peaceful lulls, you are his entire world.

Though he maintains prickly distance from the rest, Rin doesn't hesitate to stake his claim over you with subtle, possessive gestures. The barest brush of fingers at your nape, a lingering arm draped protectively around your waist - silent reminders that you are his talisman of softness in this brutal landscape.

And when the crucible grows most unforgiving, when Rin teeters on the edge of his harsh persona consuming him whole, it's your steadfast faith and warmth that becomes his only anchor. You alone bear witness to the hairline fractures in his flawless mask as he buries his face against you, body trembling with unchecked vulnerability.

[val-of-the-north]

My friend @katyspersonal made an interesting observation about the flowers that were once found on the path to Midra's Mense. Here's her post on the matter for reference [x].

The flower connection seems way too meaningful to be accidental, especially since the two people in charge of the Mense are not Hornsent at all...

Now, we can't know for sure whether Midra, Nanaya, or both were Shamans or at least related, but the connection IS there, which I doubt was placed randomly.

But yeah, speaking of Hornsent, they were indeed punished for associating with Midra. As my friend pointed out in an earlier post [x], this dialogue wouldn't fit if it was simply due to the Flame of Frenzy business going on there, especially since the ghost that welcomes us is very well aware of the madness.

It's also worth pointing out that the Madding Hand's face resembles that of the other Hornsent who use player models, meaning his fellows are probably other Hornsent too.

Whoever this group of Hornsent was, it's clear they did not care about his lack of horns and simply served Midra, possibly due to him being wise and knowledgeable...

Either that, or there are ways for people without horns to get privileges and benefits even in Hornsent society. Maybe it is still due to his vast array of knowledge, but it wouldn't be too outlandish to think Midra found ways to be productive to the Hornsent and was thus rewarded for his efforts. Until they grew suspicious of him, of course. But his Hornsent attendants seem rather loyal to him despite that.

Which leads me to a different point regarding Marika herself...

The two Hornsent NPCs that we can actually interact with both mention some sort of betrayal from Marika.

To be betrayed means that there was some semblance of trust between them and her that she broke, which would seem odd at first glance, but we must take into consideration what she did to attain godhood. She had to have reached the Gates of Divinity (as shown in the cinematic trailer), which are found in the holiest, most guarded part of Belurat's tower: Enir-Ilim.

And this must have happened BEFORE the Crusade and Messmer, as evidenced by a few things:

1) The Hornsent mention the Erdtree a bunch, which we know was established after a few different conflicts. At the very least, the war against the Giants must have happened before the Crusade, as the Age of the Erdtree began then.

Marika was also already considered a god at the time, she had a consort in Godfrey, and the Crucible was yet to be seen as heretical due to their employment of Crucible Knights. There's also the very likely possibility that Radagon was spawned from that conflict as a curse of the Giants inflicted upon Marika, which would work to explain where the red hair came from.

It might also tell us WHEN Messmer was born in that case, and speaking of...

2) Messmer's condition, or rather, all the things Marika had done for his sake, seem to have happened AFTER the establishment of the Erdtree, as they feature heavy gold and tree motifs. To have control of Grace so great that she could create the rune she most likely gave to Messmer strongly hints at her having already become a god.

The Blessing of Marika also fits the criteria of a thing she had to have made after her ascension to godhood because of its heavy arboreal theme and the fact that two Tree Sentinels (who defend her home village) are holding onto them as well, further hinting at the existence of the Erdtree by this point in time.

Both of these items relate to Messmer and both of their descriptions already identify Marika as a Queen. I wonder if this means Marika returned to her home one last time after she became a god as opposed to when she started her journey toward divinity. Her last acknowledgment of her past before leaving it behind forever.

3) Messmer was also friends with Gaius, who studied with Radahn, and they were both like older brothers to him.

This means the Crusade and Messmer's banishment could not have happened earlier than many years AFTER the Liurnian wars, as evidenced by the presence of the Carian kids. This point is also strengthened by Rellana being close to Messmer and having to prove her loyalty to the Erdtree in ritual combat.

This means that Marika reaching the Gates of Divinity and the Crusade happened at two different points in time, which seems to align with how the Hornsent word things. She betrayed them, then set them ablaze.

What's left to wonder is HOW it happened. I think it was either:

A) She waged a first war against them with the aid of Hoarax Loux (not Godfrey yet, as there was no reason to conduct himself as a lord), his clan, and the Crucible Knights to consolidate her godhood. Maliketh could have also been involved. The Hornsent, then, simply see being supplanted as a betrayal regardless of whether they knew about Marika or not, or...

B) She found a sneakier way to get there through careful planning and climbing the social ladder of Hornsent society, maybe with contact and guidance from the Two Fingers. If the latter is true, I assume she still had Maliketh's support and Hoarax Loux on speed dial for whenever the chance to claim divinity arrived, as she would still need a consort for that and we know he was her first husband.

Both ideas are compelling to me and make sense in their own right. Still, the thought that she could have actually infiltrated their society and made them trust her just to usurp and double-cross them feels very fascinating, especially since the Hornsent specifically mention Marika betraying them. It makes me wonder what Tower society is really like to non-horned people since some Hornsent can even become very loyal to those with an explicit lack of horns.

Marika's betrayal could also explain why the Inquisition would later turn on Midra despite him seemingly having enjoyed some levity or respect in the past. Perhaps they believed he'd pull a similar stunt to Marika's (or maybe they acted that way because he was directly related to her? idk honestly)... though their preventive actions inadvertently caused even more problems by having the resulting despair attract the Three Fingers to what would become the Abyssal Woods.

Of course, it's unclear if the Mense's downfall happened before, after, or concurrently with Marika's path to divinity, but I think it's worth considering as an option at least!

[nightingale-the-lurker]

Hic est nihilum

[DEMO] Last update: 19/04/2024 | [ROMANCE OPTIONS]

SYNOPSIS

Hic est nihilum is a 16+ fantasy story set in a desolate, post-apocalyptic wasteland. Assume the mantle of the Omen, a rebel who endured a harrowing betrayal. Embarking on a perilous journey through the lifeless Abysm, you must rescue your allies from the clutches those who'd sooner see you dead and stop two loving, loathing gods from taking control of your mind.

PLOT

After a lifetime of enduring the Matriarch's iron grip, you dared to defy her tyranny. Empowered by the enigmatic Sud the Time's End, the smiling harbinger of death, you led your forces to reclaim a portion of the desolate, lifeless wastes of the Abysm. Victory seemed within reach, until betrayal shattered your ambitions.

Left for dead in the unforgiving desert, your survival now hinges on an ambiguous mission from your divine benefactor. As you navigate this treacherous path, the fate of your allies hangs in the balance, while the Matriarch's dominion remains unchallenged.

Yet, amidst the chaos, whispers of alternative powers echo through the Abysm, offering salvation at a steep price. Will you bend to the will of fate, or forge your own path to freedom? The choice is yours, but in this land of turmoil, nothing comes without sacrifice.

FEATURES

Play as a male, female, or non-binary character and choose your sexuality.

Customize your appearance and personality.

Decide on your skills, weapon, and fighting style.

Gather a patchwork group to rebel against the Matriarch.

Interact with two gods who want to take you as an ally, servant, and saint: Erichea the Drowned Maiden and Sud the Time's End.

Decide how you'll lead your rebellion: Will you be a ruthless rulebreaker, an idealistic liberator, or a pragmatic diplomat?

Don't lose your mind. Or do.

ROMANCE OPTIONS

Faz Sharaan is a tech expert who mysteriously appeared at your doorstep, offering his expertise. Though invaluable to your cause and a man with a heart of gold, his past remained a tightly guarded secret. It's as if he emerged fully formed from the desert sands.

Yuan Lixue is your steadfast ally and fierce protector. From the outset, she dedicated herself wholeheartedly to your cause, her loyalty to freedom unwavering. Yet, the crucible of battle has left its mark, turning her into a hardened warrior with an appetite for blood.

Rhys Dariann is exactly what he says: A flesh-eating demon. Yet he seamlessly transitions into kind town doctor and devoted chaplain. His reasons for aiding you are veiled in secrecy, but one thing is clear: an old hatred towards the Matriarch fuels his every action.

The Angel is an enigmatic and inhuman celestial being sworn to your cause without explanation. Their price? To never again take a life under your command. You've always wondered, however, if they're fallen from grace or merely overlooked by the gods of the Abysm.

[doumadono]

THANK YOU FOR LETTING ME REQUEST can you do mizu x reader smut but where she calls reader a brat somewhere in the mix that scene jst had me head over heels 😭🙏

Warnings: smut - fingering, 69, rough oral, overstimulation, fem!Reader

Synopsis: you and Mizu enjoy some steamy moments together, having grown deeply fond of each other

OTHER FANDOMS MASTERLIST

Mizu's days were consumed by the relentless pursuit of her quest for vengeance, her every waking moment dedicated to honing her skills as a swordmaster. The path she tread was a solitary one, until a chance encounter changed the course of her journey.

It was on a misty morning in a secluded training ground nestled among ancient cherry blossoms that Mizu first crossed blades with you, a skilled swordswoman with a spirit as fierce as her own.

Your meeting was a clash of steel and determination, the air buzzing with the intensity of their training.

Mizu, her blue eyes gleaming with a mixture of determination and surprise, locked eyes with you after a particularly fierce exchange. "You fight well," Mizu acknowledged, a rare compliment from the stoic warrior.

You, your gaze unwavering, replied with a smirk, "Not bad yourself. But I've seen the fire in your eyes. There's more to your story than the strikes of a sword. Care to share?"

Mizu hesitated, her guard momentarily dropping. The pain of her past flickered in her eyes before she composed herself. "I seek revenge for a great injustice. That's it, nothing more, nothing less. My blade is my only companion on this path."

You nodded understandingly. "Well, it doesn't hurt to have a sparring partner on such a lonely journey. How about we help each other? I can see the weight you carry, and I've got my own demons to face."

From that day forward, your and Mizu's training sessions became a harmonious dance of steel and camaraderie. In the quiet moments between strikes, you shared stories of your pasts, creating a bond that transcended the limits of your swords.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow on the cherry blossoms, Mizu spoke thoughtfully, "I never thought I'd find a companion on this path. You've made the journey less lonely, Y/N."

You smiled, twirling your sword skillfully, hiding it in a scabbard. "Likewise, Mizu. We're stronger together. And vengeance is a heavy burden; it's easier to carry when you're not alone."

As the weeks passed, Mizu and you journeyed together through diverse landscapes, your paths entwined in a tapestry of shared experiences. What started as a companionship forged in the crucible of training gradually evolved into a deep and genuine fondness for each other.

The road you traveled was not just a physical journey but a shared odyssey of emotions and revelations. In the quiet moments beneath starlit skies and during the challenges you faced side by side, a connection grew, fortified by the understanding that only time and shared trials could foster.

Mizu, with her unwavering spirit, became not just a fellow warrior but a cherished presence in your own journey.

The moon hung low in the night sky, casting a soft glow over Mizu and you as you sat by a crackling campfire. The dancing flames mirrored the flickering emotions in Mizu's blue eyes as she turned to her companion. "Y/N," Mizu began, her voice steady but with a hint of vulnerability, "we've shared so much, but I've never asked about the demons that haunt you. What burdens do you carry?"

The air grew heavy with the unspoken weight of the past as Mizu waited for you to open up.

The flames flickered, casting shadows on your face as memories resurfaced. "I come from a village that was razed to the ground by marauders. I lost my family, my home. The flames took everything. That's why I picked up the sword, Mizu. I wanted to be strong, to never feel that powerless again."

Mizu listened intently, sensing the weight of your words. She understood well. As you spoke, memories of the burning hut flashed before Mizu's eyes, and an involuntary shiver ran down her spine.

Despite your efforts to maintain composure, a tear traced a silent path down your cheek, glistening in the firelight.

Mizu reached out, gently wiping away the tear with her thumb. "You've carried this burden alone for too long," she whispered. "You're not alone anymore."

Trembling, you nodded, a mixture of gratitude and relief in your eyes.

Mizu pulled you into a comforting embrace, and for a moment, the crackling of the fire was the only sound in the still night as you shared the weight of your sorrows.

You shivered at Mizu's touch. You wanted to lean in and feel Mizu's arms around you oh so badly.

Mizu shook her head. "It's the past, Y/N. And from now on, I'll be protecting you. I'll be by your side."

"You… you'd actually want to be seen with me?" you uttered in astonishment, your gaze fixed on Mizu. "But why? I'm not exactly a sight to behold, and you're so stunning… People might ridicule you for choosing to be with someone like me…"

Mizu chuckled softly, a gentle sound that resonated with warmth. She looked you in the eyes, her ice blue ones stern. "You know," she began, her eyes softening, "I don't see myself as a pretty woman. Beauty is subjective, and in my eyes, you shine in a way that captivates me. Your uniqueness, the way you carry yourself — it's incredibly appealing to me. I see you as someone with a beauty that goes far beyond what meets the eye."

The heat built between your legs. Your nipples strained against the fabric, yearning for connection, as the allure of those soft, ripe lips of hers enticed you. The closeness felt magnetic, and the desire to kiss overwhelmed you. Yet, instead, a deep blush crept across your cheeks, and you looked away, your emotions entangled in a web of confusion.

Mizu gently tilted your face up, leaning in as her lips brushed softly over yours, capturing the taste of salt from recent tears. A soft moan escaped your lips as Mizu drew you closer, fulfilling a secret daydream of yours.

Uncharacteristically eager, Mizu allowed her desires to guide her actions. Her hands explored beneath your attire, caressing your breasts, as the anticipation of pleasure hung thick in the air. With deliberate intent, she undid the ribbon at the back of your garment, letting it slip off your shoulders. Her hungry gaze lingered on your firm, ripe breasts, and Mizu, unable to resist the temptation, lowered her head to eagerly suckle on a taut nipple.

You let out a quiet moan and arched your back and moaned, tangling your fingers in the black tresses that now cascaded over you.

Mizu worshipped your breasts, taking turns licking, sucking and nibbling the nipples in turn, humming quietly as she did.

You pulled back, eyes glowing with passion. "Please, let me taste you, Mizu…"

Mizu grinned playfully and gracefully rose to her feet, treating her new lover to a tantalizing strip tease.

In absolute awe, you observed every move, your body pulsating with desire as she shed her clothes.

Mizu reclined on the futon beside the fireplace, her legs invitingly parted.

Feeling a mix of anticipation and hesitation, you undressed, eventually finding yourself kneeling between Mizu's open legs.

A moan escaped Mizu as she took in the full, lush view of your body. "Oh, Y/N, you are so beautiful," she whispered, the words hanging in the air, deepening the intimacy of the moment.

You spoke not a word. Your touch was the language, as you tenderly caressed Mizu's wetness, delicately parting the folds like the petals of a dew-kissed flower. Your mouth descended upon Mizu's throbbing clit, moving languidly, intoxicated by the explosion of her taste on your eager, flexed tongue.

Mizu responded with fervent writhing and moans, her body arching to bring her wetness even closer to your exploring mouth. With a graceful shift, she positioned herself to reciprocate, her command cutting through the stillness. "Sit on my face," Mizu directed, the bold request hanging in the air, a testament to the unspoken connection that unfolded between you.

Your attention remained solely on savoring her cunt, rendering you momentarily unresponsive to her command. You lapped at her wetness with your tongue, a low moan escaping as her juices cascaded over your taste buds. Sucking on your fingers to heighten the intensity, you skillfully slipped them into her, moving with a swift rhythm that reflected the urgency of your desire.

Her inner walls responded with spasmodic contractions, eagerly clenching around your digits. Mizu huffed with a tinge of frustration and seized a handful of your hair, giving it a gentle tug. "Come on, Y/N, don't be a brat. I asked for something, and I expect you to comply."

Responding with a small kiss to her entrance, you gazed up at her, your lips wet with her jucies, nodding in acknowledgment. Gradually, you positioned yourself, placing both knees on either side of her head, and descended onto her face. Leaning forward, you resumed your passionate exploration of her slick folds with your tongue.

Mizu let out a sultry moan as she felt your lips enveloping her clit yet again, your gentle suction drawing it into the warmth of your mouth. Her gaze wandered to your pussy right in front of her eyes, captivated by the sight of your pouty lips and the glistening juices there. With a bold move, she slid a skilled finger inside you, caressing tenderly, teasingly. Her expert tongue flickered around your clit, leaving you breathless and panting.

In response, you cried out her name, initiating a dance of desire as you pressed two fingers inside Mizu's pussy. Your skilled suction on her clit mirrored the tormenting rhythm of your fingers and occassional rubbing of your thumb against her already swollen clit.

Mizu's tongue glided slowly over your clit, dipping into your slit with a probing and searching motion; its tip constantly hitting your little bundle of nerves.

You moaned in response, enticing her with the movement of your hips, shaking your ass to amplify the friction and intensify the pleasure. "More, Mizu, holy shit!"

You luxuriated in that position for what felt like endless, blissful minutes, indulging in the intimate exchange as you both savored the taste of each other's pussies.

Mizu propped herself up on one elbow, her other hand gently parting the lips of your pussy. With tenderness, she licked you, the tip of her tongue tracing either side of your clit, humming appreciatively at the delightful taste.

Your hands reached up around her ass, pulling her cheeks apart as you wholeheartedly massaged her cunt with your mouth. In the height of pleasure, your actions were instinctual, allowing the waves of ecstasy to roll through you, leaing you moaning like a whore. Your tongue and jaws moved in perfect reaction, each dart of her tongue into you provoking a corresponding spasm of pleasure in your own mouth.

Together, you both writhed in ecstasy, voices merging in a passionate chorus of moans that echoed the intensity of your shared passion.

Releasing your hold on Mizu's ass, you wrapped your arms around her waist, drawing her core closer to your face. Playfully pushing her to the side, both of you shared a moment of giggles, eventually settling on your sides, maintaining the 69 position.

The sensations were nothing short of incredible. Mizu squirmed with delight, her tongue delving deep to partake in your drenched cunny, creating ripples of passion that surged throughout your body.

Unable to contain yourself, you cried out, "M-Mizu!!!" as her quick, skillful licks over your swollen clit sent waves of ecstasy coursing through your entire being, leaving your legs shaking. "I-I, God! T-Too much!!! Oh God, I can't!!!" you whined again, arching your back, trying to grind your pussy against her face for more friction.

She gently spanked your ass a few times. "Shush, you little, horny brat," the black-haired woman grunted lowly. "Let me have my fun with you."

You extended your arm between her legs, skillfully opening her wide, allowing one leg to hover tantalizingly over you. With your other hand deftly maneuvering between the two of you, you spread her pussy open even more.

Her head shifted against your inner thigh, repurposed as a comfortable pillow in the midst of this intimate exchange.

Your face was fully immersed in the warmth of her pussy, while she reciprocated with her face pressed into yours. In a passionate exchange, you both moved and thrust against each other, building up a frenzied rhythm that heightened the intensity of the moment.

Mizu's primal grunts mixed with your fervent whimpers, the symphony of your pleasure rising in frequency and pitch. In the midst of waves and layers of ecstasy, you both reached the climax together, as one. The culmination was so profound, so all-encompassing, as you came intensely, repeatedly, in a cascade of bliss. A deluge of intoxicating girl-cum cascaded over your mouths and faces, seamlessly blending with the ongoing grinding and spasms.

"Oh, you dirty, little brat, you're gonna be a death of me one day," Mizu playfully nibbled on your clit, making you whine pathetically.

Gradually, the sweet and gentle descent from the peak began. Your passion waned, bodies winding down, experiencing little aftershocks of orgasm like sparks in your muscles. Rolling backward, you and Mizu separated, lying prone on your backs, side by side, heads to toes, in a shared moment of tranquil aftermath, breathig heavily.

Soon Mizu, holding you with a newfound protectiveness, traced gentle strokes through your Y/H/C hair and whispered softly, "Did I make you feel good?"

Nestled against Mizu like a contented kitten, you looked up with a happy smile. "Yes… It was perfect."

A tender kiss on your temple followed as Mizu yawned heavily. "I think I fell in love with you… We've shared so much, and being close to you felt so good, so right, as if something just clicked together."

"Indeed," you whispered in agreement, resting your head on Mizu's breasts, eyes slipping closed. The surreal feeling of it all being real overwhelmed you. Sleep embraced you, and this time, there were no dreams; there was no need, as everything you had recently dreamt about was already cradled in your arms.

[mac-tirs]

i mentioned it in the replies of one of my posts, but i love how tied morgott and mohg are in soul despite their differences. their great runes occupying the same tower is one thing, but the possibilities that they work together in some capacity despite having such fundamental differences in beliefs is so interesting.

there's nothing that explicitly states that they're collaborating on anything, but i feel you can get real far if you let your mind wander. their shared occupation of the shunning grounds, morgott and mohg's matching shackles, morgott's sword having that bloodflame slice ability, the complimentary ways that they fight with morgott's speed and mohg's strength, mohg's illusion guarding the frenzied flame proscription with morgott's seal hidden behind him... there's so much to work with there!

the last part is what interests me the most, tbh. something peculiar about this setup is how morgott's illusions work; when he summons margit in stormveil and out in altus, gold shimmers around him while a symbol bearing the sigil of the crucible appears on the ground beneath margit. when he summons godfrey's spirit, the same symbol and golden hue appears on him. but with mohg, no such gold appears, nor any symbol. he merely materialises out of thin air.

this is interesting because of the fact that this means morgott didn't summon him. not only because he doesn't show up with the symbol or gold, but also because when you kill morgott, his margit illusions in stormveil and altus also disappear if you don't kill them before morgott. this doesn't happen with mohg in the sewers, who can be fought before you even get to godfrey, even if you kill mohg in his palace first before any of them. but why is that?

i personally believe that it's because mohg's illusion is not one born from the same magic that morgott uses for his incantations. i know, shocking, the golden order fanboy and the formless mother fanboy use different spells, but it does serve to explain why mohg's illusion stays even when the man himself was slain first. it sets their magic apart very clearly and decisively, but also grants more insight into their collaboration.

mainly because i think that morgott and mohg working together on this can fit into 2 different possible reasonings behind the nature of their relationship. the first being that this is a begrudging truce built off of mutual respect and fear of the frenzied flame, and that they don't agree on much else beyond that and are estranged otherwise. the second being that they still work together in some capacity and still hold even the slightest bit of affection for each other, and guardianship over the frenzied flame using the magic they are best at (illusions and seals) is testament to that.

both are plenty compelling, though i find myself more drawn to the 2nd reason. i wonder if there was a time before miquella where mohg was establishing his dynasty and his brother, a fanatic of the golden order, turned a blind eye to his actions out of love. its probable that morgott and mohg never publicly acknowledged their familial connection, since neither varre nor ansbach make any mention of mohg having a brother, nor does anyone (barring shaneheight) know that morgott is actually an omen. it could be that, when mohg left the sewers to establish his dynasty, morgott let the matter lie and the two went their separate ways rather amicably, if a little bitter.

as per usual, this was just a huge ramble with no direction. just musings pretty much. i love thinking about these guys a lot.

[thewickedjazzy]

⌞𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰⌝

Part I : 𝙒𝙞𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙉𝙖𝙧𝙘𝙞𝙨𝙨𝙪𝙨

Pairings: Chuuya x mafia boss fem!reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, mention of death, mention of other dimensions (could trigger derealization), please let me know if I forgot any Xx.

Author's note: Hey fellas!! Hope you enjoy my story ahead. Note: It consists of 3 parts. I've been toying with the idea of this story for a while now and honestly I am very satisfied with how it turned out!!

P.s: it's written in a 3rd person perspective.

Word count: 5.7k

In the deepest recesses of the human heart, there exists a haunting paradox: the insatiable thirst for power clashes with the equally profound yearning for connection. These two opposing forces, entwined yet in constant conflict, shaped the existence of a mafia boss who ruled Yokohama's shadowed underworld. Her life was a testament to this struggle—a legacy of power forged in the crucible of blood and betrayal, passed down as both a gift and a curse. Power was her birthright, a mantle she wore with unyielding resolve, yet its weight was a burden she bore in solitude, isolated by the very force that defined her.

At her side, Chuuya Nakahara stood as her most loyal confidant, a kindred spirit shaped by his own battles and scars. In the murky depths of their world, where loyalty was a currency as rare as it was valuable, their bond was forged in the fires of mutual understanding. Yet even with Chuuya's unwavering support, she knew that true power came at a steep price—a cost paid in loneliness and the silent suffering that accompanied her every decision. The shadow of her legacy loomed large, casting its darkness over every connection she sought to make until all that remained was the cold, unyielding pursuit of control.

Chuuya understood this truth with a clarity that bordered on despair. His unwavering loyalty was not merely a matter of duty; it was rooted in a deep, unspoken love that lay buried within the shadows of his heart. This love, a secret he guarded fiercely, was both his greatest strength and his inevitable downfall—a double-edged sword that he could never wield openly.

She, the one who controlled the very fabric of the underworld with her formidable ability, the "Malevolent Marionette," held the power to command not just armies, but the delicate balance between life and death itself. With a mere thought, she could pull the strings of fate, bending the wills of others to her own, yet this power, so absolute in its reach, left her isolated in a world where love was both a weakness and a danger. Chuuya, in his silence, bore witness to her lonely reign, knowing that his love for her could never be spoken, for to do so would unravel the delicate threads that bound their lives together.

In the dimly lit office of the mafia headquarters, the mafia boss was going through some paperwork as usual, on the top floor of the headquarters, her gaze fixed on the writings and patterns of the file she was holding, broke the silence first.

"Chuuya..." she said softly, her voice carrying a weight of unvoiced thoughts, "Do you ever wonder if the price we pay for control is worth it?"

Chuuya, leaning against the edge of the desk, met her eyes with a mixture of solemnity and affection. "Every day," he replied, his voice low but steady.

"But even in this world of shadows, it's your strength that keeps us going. Without it, we'd all be lost."

A fleeting smile touched her lips, but it was a rare moment of vulnerability.

"And yet, even with all the power we wield, it feels as though we’re trapped in a cage of our own making," she murmured.

Their conversation, delicate and laden with the gravity of their shared existence, was abruptly interrupted by a piercing alarm that sliced through the air like a knife. The blaring sound was a sharp reminder of the perpetual danger they faced.

“Alert: Intruder detected,” the automated voice declared with relentless efficiency.

"Ugh, give me a break," the mafia boss muttered, rolling her eyes as the alarm blared incessantly through the headquarters.

The shrill sound grated on her nerves, but it was more of an annoyance than a cause for concern.

She leaned back in her chair, her fingers tapping rhythmically on the armrest as she considered the situation.

Chuuya, already halfway to the door, paused and glanced back at her.

"You really think they’ll get anywhere near us?"

She gave a small, dismissive shake of her head. "They won’t make it past the third floor, let alone reach us up here. But it’s still a nuisance."

Chuuya smirked, his confidence in her words evident.

"I'll handle it quickly, then."

With that, he turned and strode out of the room, the door closing softly behind him. Left alone, the boss exhaled, her eyes drifting to the window where the city sprawled beneath her like a living, breathing entity.

The layers of protection she had built around herself—both physical and emotional—were nearly impenetrable. No one had ever made it to the top floor, where she and Chuuya resided. And no one ever would.

She pushed herself up from the chair, moving to a hidden compartment in the wall.

She pressed a button, and the hidden compartment slid open with a soft hiss, revealing a sleek monitor embedded within.

As she activated the screen, a grid of camera feeds flickered to life, offering her a bird’s-eye view of the entire headquarters. She wasn’t one to micromanage her subordinates—she trusted them, especially Chuuya—but the instinct to keep an eye on things, especially when it involved him, was something she couldn’t quite shake.

Her eyes scanned the feeds, taking in the chaotic scenes unfolding below. The intruders, a small but highly trained group, had made it farther than most. The lower floors were a warzone, with her men locked in fierce combat, but it was clear that they were holding their ground. For now.

She switched to the third-floor feed, her gaze sharpening as she saw Chuuya enter the fray. He moved with lethal precision, a blur of motion as he tore through the intruders with the ease of someone born to fight not using his gravity manipulation ability just yet.

Despite her earlier confidence, a sliver of unease crept into her mind as she watched him. These intruders were no amateurs; they were too coordinated, too familiar with the layout of the headquarters. Her finger hovered over the intercom button, but she hesitated. Chuuya didn’t need her guidance—he was more than capable of handling the situation. Yet, the feeling persisted, gnawing at her as she watched him confront a particularly skilled opponent, their clash sending shockwaves through the walls.

Suddenly, something on one of the other camera feeds caught her attention. A figure, moving with uncanny stealth, had bypassed the bulk of the defenses and was making their way up the emergency stairwell—a route rarely used and known only to a select few. Her heart skipped a beat as she realized the intruder was heading straight for the top floor.

“Damn it,” she muttered under her breath, quickly switching the camera view to track the figure’s progress. Whoever this was, they were dangerous—calculated, and possibly someone with inside knowledge.

Without wasting another second, she hit the intercom button, her voice steady but urgent.

"Chuuya, we’ve got a problem. There’s someone headed for the top floor, and they’re taking the emergency stairs."

Chuuya’s voice crackled through the speaker, laced with irritation.

"You sure it’s not just another grunt?"

"No," she replied, her tone leaving no room for doubt.

"This one’s different. They know exactly where they’re going."

There was a brief pause on the other end, then a sharp intake of breath.

"I’m on my way. Don’t do anything reckless."

She smirked at his concern but didn’t argue. "Hurry," was all she said before ending the call.

Her smirk faded as she watched the intruder move with calculated precision through the stairwell, each step deliberate and unhurried. Whoever this was, they were no ordinary assassin. They were heading straight for her, bypassing the usual layers of defense as if they knew exactly where to find her.

Her fingers itched to grab her weapon, but something told her this encounter would require more than brute force.

She had an ability—one she rarely used, because it was as dangerous as it was powerful. But this was different. This intruder was different.

She closed the compartment and stepped away from the monitor, moving to sit on a nearby desk near the door, her senses on high alert.

Every second stretched into an eternity as she waited, listening for the faintest sound of approaching footsteps. Then, just as she had predicted, they stopped right outside her door.

The handle turned slowly, and she felt her heartbeat quicken, her muscles tensing in anticipation. The door opened with an almost deliberate slowness, and the intruder stepped inside—a tall figure cloaked in black, their face hidden beneath a dark hood. They paused, surveying the room as if searching for something, before their gaze finally settled on her and for a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. But instead of striking, the figure remained still, as if weighing their options.

She didn’t wait for them to speak. “You’ve got five seconds to tell me why you’re here before I kill you,” she said, her voice sharp and commanding, yet calm, with an underlying edge that promised she would follow through.

The intruder lifted their hands slightly, a gesture of surrender, though there was a calculated caution in the movement. “I’m not here to fight,” they said, their voice muffled by the hood. “I’m here to deliver a message.”

She narrowed her eyes, distrust gnawing at her. “A message?” she echoed. “From who?”

The intruder took a cautious step forward, reaching into their coat. She tensed, ready to strike, but they slowly pulled out a small, sealed envelope instead of a weapon. They held it out to her, and she got up from the desk as she eyed it warily before snatching it from their hand, tearing it open with a swift, practised motion.

Inside was a single sheet of paper, the handwriting elegant but unfamiliar. Her eyes scanned the words quickly, her breath catching as she read the message. It was simple, yet devastating:

" 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯. 𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯, 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦—𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦. 𝘙𝘦𝘧𝘭𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴—𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘺, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘵𝘴. 𝘐 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦. "

At the bottom of the note was a name—one that sent a cold chill down her spine. Her stepfather. The man who had been a shadowy figure in her life, part of a past she had tried to bury. But he wasn’t buried—he was back, and he had her sister.

The intruder watched her carefully, reading the shift in her expression. “He told me to give you that,” they said, their voice low. “And to tell you that this is just the beginning. If you don’t do as he says… your sister will suffer.”

Her hands tightened around the paper, crumpling it slightly as she fought to keep her emotions in check. She couldn’t let the intruder see how deeply this cut, couldn’t afford to show any weakness.

“Why should I believe you?” she asked, her tone cold. “How do I know this isn’t some trick?”

“You don’t,” the intruder replied, their voice devoid of emotion. “But you know who he is. You know what he’s capable of. And you know he’s not bluffing.”

She hated how true those words were. She looked at the intruder, her eyes narrowing in calculation. “What’s your role in this?” she demanded. “Why are you helping him?”

The intruder hesitated, then finally pulled back the hood, revealing a face lined with weariness and resolve. “I’m just a messenger. But I know what he wants. He’s not just after you—he’s after Chuuya.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “Chuuya? What does he want with him?”

The intruder shook their head. “That’s all I know. My job was to deliver the message and make sure you understood the stakes. What you do next is up to you.”

She stared at the intruder for a long moment, her mind racing. This was no ordinary threat. It was personal, and it was a game she would have to play carefully. Her sister’s life was on the line, and now, Chuuya’s safety was in jeopardy as well.

Finally, she stepped back, allowing the intruder to leave. “Get out before Chuuya gets here” she ordered, her voice icy. “And tell your boss that if he harms her, I’ll burn his entire world to the ground.”

The intruder hesitated, their eyes flicking towards the door as if they were weighing their options. But the cold determination in her voice left no room for argument. With a slight nod, they pulled the hood back over their head, turning to leave the room as quietly as they had entered. The door clicked shut behind them, leaving her alone once more.

As the silence settled back into the room, she let out a slow breath, the weight of the situation pressing down on her. Her sister—her only remaining family—was in the hands of a man she had long thought buried in her past. A man whose very existence she had tried to forget, yet he had resurfaced like a ghost from a nightmare, bringing with him a threat that was as personal as it was terrifying.

After a few seconds the door opened once again as Chuuya stepped into the room, his presence like a force of nature that filled the space. His eyes immediately went to her, scanning her for any sign of hurt.

“What the hell just happened?” Chuuya’s tone was sharp, cutting through the tension that still hung in the air.

She turned to face him, her expression carefully composed, though the turmoil inside her was anything but. “It’s handled,” she replied, her voice calm and controlled, a stark contrast to the storm brewing within her. “The intruder was just a messenger.”

Chuuya’s eyes narrowed. He knew her too well to be fooled by her calm exterior. “And what was the message?” he asked, his voice laced with suspicion. He took a step closer, his gaze locked onto hers, searching for the truth she was trying to hide.

For a moment, she hesitated. The urge to tell him everything—to let him in on the danger that now threatened them both—was strong. But she couldn’t. Chuuya was too important, too precious to her, to risk him being dragged into this mess. Her stepfather was a dangerous man, someone who thrived on manipulation and deceit. If Chuuya knew he was a target, he would rush headlong into the fray, putting himself at risk for her sake. She couldn’t allow that.

She forced a small smile, one that didn’t reach her eyes. “It’s nothing we can’t handle,” she said, trying to sound reassuring. “Just someone trying to stir up trouble. But I’ll take care of it.”

Chuuya’s frown deepened. “Don’t give me that crap,” he snapped, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “You’re not telling me something. What’s going on?”

She exhaled slowly, knowing she had to give him something to keep him from pressing further. “It’s about my sister,” she admitted, her voice softening. “She’s been taken, and they want me to come for her. Alone.”

The truth in her words wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole story either. Chuuya’s expression shifted from suspicion to anger, his fists clenching at his sides. “Taken? By who?” His voice was low, dangerous, the fury in his eyes barely contained.

“A man from my past,” she said vaguely, refusing to give him the details that would send him charging into danger. “Someone I thought I’d left behind. But he’s come back, and he’s using her to get to me.”

Chuuya’s jaw tightened, his eyes burning with determination. “Then we’ll find him,” he growled. “We’ll get her back, and we’ll make him pay for this."

She shook her head, placing a hand on his arm to stop him. “No, Chuuya. This is something I have to handle alone. It’s too dangerous, and I can’t let you get involved.”

His eyes flashed with anger. “Like hell I’m staying out of this. You’re not facing this bastard by yourself.”

Her grip on his arm tightened, her voice firm. “You have to trust me, Chuuya. I need you to stay close, but out of sight. Let me deal with him. I promise, I’ll bring her back.”

He stared at her, his expression a mix of frustration and concern. He wanted to argue, to demand that she let him fight by her side, but something in her eyes—something resolute and unyielding—stopped him. With a frustrated sigh, he finally nodded, though his reluctance was clear.

“Fine,” he agreed, his voice begrudging. “But I’m not letting you out of my sight. The moment I think you’re in danger, I’m coming in, whether you like it or not.”

She allowed herself a small, genuine smile this time, grateful for his stubborn loyalty. “I wouldn’t expect anything less,” she replied, her voice softening.

Chuuya’s anger seemed to dissipate slightly, replaced by a deep, unspoken concern. He stepped closer, his eyes locking onto hers. “Just promise me you’ll be careful,” he said, his voice low and earnest. “I can’t lose you.”

Her heart tightened at his words, and she nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. “I promise.”

For a moment, they stood there, the weight of unspoken emotions hanging between them. She wanted to reach out, to tell him how much his presence meant to her, how much she relied on him, how much she cared about him not because of his ability but rather because of who he is. But there were too many walls between them, too much left unsaid. So instead, she simply held his gaze, letting the silence speak for them both.

The distance between them felt palpable, an invisible barrier made up of all the things they hadn’t yet confessed, of all the emotions they kept locked away for the sake of their precarious world.

He reached out, hesitating for a moment before finally placing a hand on her shoulder. The touch was light, almost tentative, as if he was afraid to overstep the boundaries they’d both carefully constructed. “You know,” he began, his voice softer than she’d ever heard it, “you don’t always have to carry everything on your own. I’m here, not just as your right hand, but… for whatever you need.”

His words hung in the air between them, laced with meaning that went beyond the professional bond they shared. She looked up at him, her breath catching slightly at the sincerity in his eyes. It would be so easy to lean into that touch, to allow herself the comfort of his presence, but the walls she had built around her heart held firm. She had spent so long keeping everyone at a distance, even him, that it felt impossible to let go now.

“Chuuya…” she started, her voice wavering, “you don’t understand how much this means to me. But it’s precisely because I care about you that I can’t afford to let you in too close. The world we inhabit is fraught with dangers—dangers that neither of us can escape unscathed.”

His hand moved from her shoulder to take hers gently, the gesture tender yet firm, as though he was determined to bridge the distance between them, however insurmountable it seemed. “Do you think I’m blind to that?” he replied, a trace of frustration colouring his words, though it was softened by a plea—one that echoed the vulnerability he rarely allowed himself to show. “We’ve faced every challenge together until now. I’m not asking you to tear down all your defenses—just to let me in, if only a little. We are stronger when we stand together, aren’t we?”

She turned away slightly, her gaze drifting toward the window where the city sprawled beneath them, a living testament to the power and control she wielded. But even as she looked out over the empire she had built, there was an emptiness, a hollow ache that power could not fill. She had sacrificed so much to be where she was—her freedom, her innocence, her very humanity. And yet, here was Chuuya, offering her something she had long forgotten how to grasp: connection.

"Chuuya," she said, her voice barely audible, as if she were speaking more to herself than to him. "In our world, everything is a transaction. Loyalty, trust, and even love—they all come at a price. I’ve always believed that the cost was too high. That to let anyone in was to invite ruin."

He didn’t respond immediately, allowing the silence to stretch between them, heavy with the weight of their shared history. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, almost contemplative. "Maybe that’s true," he admitted, "but maybe the price of keeping everyone out is even higher. We think we’re protecting ourselves by building these walls by staying distant, but all we’re doing is trapping ourselves in a cage of our own making as you always refer to it."

She smiles and nods. He was right... of course, he was right, yet she couldn't help but stay in that cage.

The night draped over Yokohama like a shroud, its darkness suffused with the ominous weight of impending tragedy. The air was thick with the scent of rain and the distant echo of sirens—harbingers of chaos that had become all too familiar. In the heart of this city, where shadows wove their own intricate dance, a final confrontation was brewing.

She had indeed managed to save her sister, wresting her from the clutches of the man who had once been a silent specter in her past. Her stepfather—whose dark presence had loomed over her life like a persistent nightmare—stood before her now, his power radiating like a malignant force that threatened to engulf everything she held dear. His ability to subsume other powers was a fearsome weapon, a black hole of dominion that threatened to consume all in its path.

The battle that ensued was a tempest of ferocity and desperation. She fought with the strength of a woman who had everything to lose, her every move fueled by a fierce, protective love for her sister. But as the confrontation dragged on, it became clear that her stepfather's power was overwhelming—an abyss that threatened to swallow her whole.

In a final, desperate bid to secure her sister’s safety, she made the agonizing decision to invoke the full potential of her "Malevolent Marionette" ability. The room was filled with a sombre silence as she whispered the usual incantation, her voice trembling with the weight of her resolve.

The master puppet, an intricate symbol of her ability, materialized in the center of the room—a dark, foreboding figure that seemed to pulse with an ancient, dangerous energy.

Her connection to the puppet was immediate and intense. The energy surging through her was both exhilarating and terrifying. The puppet’s power was immense, a dark purple tide that surged through her veins, promising the ability to reshape the world itself if she so wished. But the cost was steep—five minutes of devastation, followed by her own inevitable demise if the puppet was not destroyed.

The minutes ticked by like a slow, relentless drumbeat, each second a harbinger of doom. She fought valiantly, her power a raging inferno that lashed out at her stepfather, but he remained an insurmountable force, his power too great to be overcome. Her breath came in ragged gasps, each exhalation a reminder of the ticking clock that governed her fate.

Chuuya stood at the edge of the shadows, his heart pounding with a frantic rhythm that mirrored the chaotic storm raging within him. He had been waiting for what felt like an eternity, his every muscle tense with a blend of fear and frustration. The stakes had been too high, and he knew that his absence, though well-intentioned, was a gamble with dire consequences. The reality of their world was unforgiving, and he could sense the weight of his decisions settling heavily upon him.

As he watched the building, a sudden flicker of purple neon light cut through the darkness, casting an eerie glow over the structure. The light pulsed rhythmically, a harbinger of something both powerful and dangerous. His blood ran cold as he realized the significance of the display. It was a sign—a signal that she had invoked the full potential of her "Malevolent Marionette" ability —the very ability they had always relied on him to control, to destroy.

The realization hit him like a punch to the gut, and his heart raced with a desperate urgency.

The purple lights, casting long, twisted shadows, illuminated the building’s facade like a harbinger of doom. Chuuya could see from afar her silhouette, framed against the intense glow. Her movements were determined, each gesture a testament to the raw, untamed power she wielded.

Without a moment's hesitation, he sprinted toward the building, his every step fueled by a mixture of fear and determination. The forest trees blurred past him as he raced towards the source of the light, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. Each heartbeat seemed to echo with the dread of what he might find.

The building loomed ahead, its once-sturdy facade now a chaotic wreckage. Debris littered the ground, and the air was thick with the acrid scent of smoke and destruction. Chuuya burst through the entrance, his senses assaulted by the aftermath of the battle. The interior was a scene of devastation, the walls scorched and twisted from the unleashed power.He pushed forward, navigating through the wreckage with a sense of grim determination. His eyes scanned the ruinous landscape, searching for any sign of her. The purple neon light was now fading, its power waning as the last vestiges of the ritual played out. His heart sank as he approached the center of the chaos, where the battle had reached its climax.

There, amidst the debris and ruin, he found her. She stood amidst the wreckage, her form silhouetted against the dying glow of the purple light. Her stepfather lay defeated at her feet, the battle won but at an unimaginable cost. Her eyes, once filled with the fierce resolve of a warrior, now bore the hollow emptiness of someone who had sacrificed everything.

Chuuya's breath caught in his throat as he approached her, his mind struggling to process the sight before him. She had succeeded in her mission, but the power of the "Malevolent Marionette" had taken its toll. The puppet, a manifestation of her ability, had exacted a price that was painfully clear. She had unleashed a force of destruction that could only be contained by her own life force, and now, as the ritual’s effects began to consume her, it was clear that the cost was far greater than he had ever imagined.

Her gaze met his, a mixture of relief and sorrow in her eyes. "Chuuya..." she whispered, her voice barely audible over the crackling remnants of the power that had once surged through the building. There was a finality to her tone, an acceptance of the fate that had been sealed by her own choices.

His heart ached as he moved to her side, reaching out in a futile attempt to bridge the gap that had grown between them. He had wanted to protect her, to shield her from the worst of their world, but in doing so, he had failed her in the most crucial moment. The realization hit him with a crushing weight—his absence had led to a loss he could never fully comprehend.

As she fell to the ground, her strength waning, he held her in his arms, the enormity of the situation crashing down around him. The world they had fought to protect was now a stark reminder of the cost of their choices, the price of power and love interwoven in a tapestry of tragedy. The light of the neon glow faded, leaving only the echoes of their struggle and the heavy silence of a world forever changed.

In that moment, Chuuya held her close, his tears mingling with the dust and debris that surrounded them.

“Y/N, hold on… You can do this. You’ve got to hang on... I will destroy the puppet. Where is it?” His voice was ragged, strained by the relentless tide of his grief, an anguished plea that seemed to reach out into the void.

She looked at him with eyes growing dim, her strength ebbing away like a fading tide. She reaches out, placing her hand softly on his right cheek. "It’s too late now, Chuuya," she said, her voice a fragile whisper. "Please, take care of my sister and the mafia... I leave everything to you." Her words, though soft, carried the finality of a conclusion drawn long before, as the life drained from her. Her hand hit the ground lifelessly.

" I didn't even have the chance to kiss you. To tell you how much I loved you. Don't leave me alone in this cruel world! " He buries his face into the crook of her lifeless neck sobbing and holding her close.

Chuuya's heart shattered as he clung to her, his voice breaking with anguished regret. "I didn’t even get the chance to hold you in my arms, to wake up to you by my side, to tell you how deeply I loved you. Don’t leave me... please..." His sobs wracking his body, a poignant lament for a love left unspoken and a future now lost.

"You lied to me... you promised me that you'd take care of yourself... please...Y/N..." His plea hung in the air, a raw cry against the encroaching silence of her fading life.

The love they had fought to maintain, the connection they had both yearned for—it had all came to an end. As the life drained from her, he could only hold onto the bittersweet memory of what they had shared, knowing that their story had ended in a way he could never have anticipated.

Days passed, each one marked by the hollow ache of Chuuya’s grief. The world continued its indifferent march, but for him, time seemed to stand still in the wake of her loss. He took on the mantle of the mafia boss, a role he had never imagined he would assume, and every decision he made was imbued with the weight of her absence. Her sister was safe, and the organization continued to function, but the emptiness within him remained a chasm that no amount of power or responsibility could fill.

Each night, the office became a sanctuary of despair. Subordinates whispered among themselves, noting the sound of Chuuya’s sobs echoing through the walls. The man who had once been a pillar of strength and resolve was now a figure haunted by his own sorrow, his once-unshakable confidence replaced by a profound and unrelenting grief. The weight of leadership was no solace, only a reminder of the price he had paid.

Every evening, after the office was empty and the city below was cloaked in darkness, Chuuya would make his way to her grave. It was a ritual born of both reverence and desperation—a desperate need to keep her memory alive, to bridge the gap between the living and the dead. There, in the quiet of the cemetery, he would sit beside her grave, speaking to her as if she could hear him.

He would recount the events of his day, the decisions he had made, the struggles he faced as the new head of the mafia. His words were a mixture of mundane details and heartfelt confessions, a dialogue with the shadows of the past.

"Today, we had another power struggle," he would say softly, his voice trembling as he knelt by her grave. "I managed to keep things under control, but it’s never the same without you. I find myself longing for your guidance, for your presence... I’m lost without you."

With each visit, his words became a testament to the depth of his love and the void she had left. The cemetery, once a place of finality, became a space where he could grapple with his grief, where the echoes of their shared past offered a semblance of comfort in the midst of his pain.

And so, Chuuya continued his vigil, bound by the promise he had made and the love that remained unspoken but ever-present. His heart, though heavy and broken, remained steadfast in its devotion to the woman who had been his greatest challenge and his deepest love.

Then came a day like no other. The world trembled as a force beyond comprehension began to assert its presence. A powerful opponent, whose ability was as arcane as it was formidable, had managed to tear through the fabric of reality itself. This adversary wielded a piece of the reality book, a relic of unimaginable power capable of opening gateways between dimensions. As the fabric of their universe rippled and shifted, a rift emerged, a slit in the world that shimmered with an eerie, otherworldly light.

Chuuya stood on the precipice of disbelief in a scattered forest, his heart pounding as the dimensions collided. The air crackled with energy, and he could feel the weight of something monumental happening. His gaze was drawn to the rift, which grew wider, revealing glimpses of another universe beyond—a place of stark contrasts and unfamiliar landscapes.

And then, through the growing breach, he saw her.

There she was, a vision that defied all logic and reason. She stood amidst the chaotic light, her form illuminated by the strange, shimmering energy of the other universe. She looked different, her appearance altered by the peculiarities of the alternate realm, yet it was unmistakably her. Her presence was a beacon in the tumultuous void, a sight that sent a shudder through Chuuya’s very soul.

For a moment, the world around him seemed to cease its relentless march. Time itself appeared to hold its breath as he gazed at her, his emotions a tempest of disbelief, hope, and an unspoken yearning. He reached out, his fingers trembling as if he could touch the fabric of reality and pull her through.

Her eyes met his, and in that fleeting, impossible moment, there was recognition—a silent communication that transcended the barriers of space and dimension. Her expression was one of both sorrow and solace, a reflection of the love and loss that had bound them together in life and now, impossibly, in death.

The sudden, disorienting realization that had hit them both was almost too much to comprehend. Standing at the edge of the rift, they locked eyes, their shared astonishment mirroring each other’s disbelief.

"Boss...?" they both said in unison, their voices echoing in the charged air of the fractured reality. The word was spoken with a mixture of reverence and confusion, as if the title held a gravity that transcended their own worlds.

A/N : Hope you enjoyed it, fellas! Let me know if I shall continue? I'm very excited to finish writing part 2!!!

➵Want more of Chuuya Nakahara ?

[willowthewiisp]

I just can't fucking shut up about this because everyone else is pissing me off calling Marika an unu poor baby she was justified bs as if genocide against any race is justified if they hurt you first. Look at real world examples.

Anyways.

Godfrey was banished not because he conquered all that could be conquered but because he fundamentally disagreed with Marika. I'm convinced she asked him to carry out the genocide against the hornsent society but because they hadn't attacked or given any reason to be attacked ( because the genocide came AFTER the banishment because messmer knows what a tarnished is AND was an older brother figure to radahn.) Godfrey refused because he's just a Chad like that and Marika stripped him of his grace and sent him on his way and instead gave messmer the grace and blessings to go crusade against the ones she needed to be rid of.

Why were the hornsent not exterminated the second Marika became a god.

Why did she run from the lands of shadow and not stay to save her people.

Because she ran.

She ran away because she had connections to the hornsent as an empyrean. The only reason she genocided them so late in her rule was because the hornsent did not submit to her religion and ideals of the golden order they were graceless and heretics to her, who spat in the face of her erdtree and worshipped the concept of the crucible. Why would she need to hide this war if it was for a good reason. I mean, if she used they oppressed my people and are a threat to the golden order why would she need to hide that, seems like as good of a reason as any to attack someone.

Because there was no good reason.

It's clear the hornsent weren't a warring culture by the time of the crusades if the dancing lion is any hint (that's not to say they weren't in the past, they had to have come to power somehow but as of the genocide the lion dancers were just that, dancers, that basically became guardians and fought during the genocide). They were caught off guard they were surprised and betrayed by Marika who they didn't have any bad blood with personally. If Marika truly was driven by revenge and hate over the shamans why didn't she slaughter them as soon as she became a god. Because she left them on neutral terms. She wasn't their enemy and they had no reason to attack her. What happened at the divine tower was the original sin. That's why messmer shrouded it so no one would know what Marika did to become a god. Massive sacrifice of hornsent AND shamans were needed. I'm almost tempted to say the hornsent got the idea to use shamans in their saint jars because of Marika. They saw this numen, this shaman, ascend into godhood. Marika used the blood of shamans, the flesh of shamans to become a god. They tried to replicate it in the jars, turning criminals and sinners into something that could become more. Maybe the shamans willingly sacrificed themselves for Marikas ascension. I would believe that. But the hornsent saw this and their zealotry drove them to hunt the shamans, so they could recreate what they witnessed at the divine tower. We see something similar in nokron. The nox attempted to birth their own lord to usher in an age of stars.

Marika returning to her village long after the shamans were gone REEKS of guilt. Because she didn't save them. She didn't avenge them. She left them to suffer and die. That's why she's fucking guilty. Messmer was the only one that seemed to care about them, and even then there was nothing to be done. Even IF the hornsent tortured and harvested her people and hurt Marika personally, that doesn't change the fact Marika waited until Godfrey was gone and radahn and messmer were old enough to be brothers to each other (almost implying it happened when Marika and radagon married but that's a stretch) to attack them. She waited an age and a half. Through her age of plenty and into the age of order. Why.

Why did she forsake her people. No wonder the black knife assassins did what they did. If they truly were close to Marika, they'd want revenge for what she did to their people in the lands of shadow.

Anyways.

[mcntsee]

Tit for tat

Summary: Kaz accidentally walked in on Y/N changing, but as Jesper said to Y/n, “Tit for tat”.

Warnings: Mentions of nudity but not explicit at all. Super short. Ooc Kaz.

Note: I was watching Friends and got an idea. I don’t really know if this is good, just thought it’d be a funny idea.

In the bustling city of Ketterdam, Kaz Brekker and Y/N were the epitome of an unlikely friendship. Their lives revolved around intricate schemes and calculated risks, their bond forged in the crucible of danger. While their connection teetered on the edge of something more, they maintained a silent understanding, their hearts guarded behind walls of steel.

One day, fate played a mischievous hand, setting the stage for a moment neither of them would ever forget. Y/N, in the privacy of her room, was in the midst of changing when Kaz, lost in his thoughts, accidentally strode in, catching a glimpse that would forever burn in his memory. “Y/n, I need you to g-“ His eyes widened in horror, his face turning an intriguing shade of crimson as he hastily retreated from the room, his words of apology stumbling out as he slammed the door of her room shut.

Jesper, ever the keen observer, witnessed the flustered Kaz and raised an amused eyebrow. “You alright, boss?” he quipped, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Kaz, attempting to regain his composure, merely nodded curtly before hurriedly making his way down the corridor, his thoughts racing in a jumble of embarrassment and distraction.

Sensing a tale worth hearing, Jesper decided to investigate further. He sought out Y/N, who was now fully dressed, a bemused smile on her face. “So, what happened?” Jesper asked, unable to contain his laughter.

Y/N chuckled, a twinkle of mischief dancing in her eyes. “Kaz walked in on me, accidentally of course, and saw more than he bargained for,” she explained, relishing in the opportunity to tease the usually unflappable Kaz Brekker.

Jesper’s laughter echoed through the room, his voice laced with amusement. “Ah, you know what they say, Y/N. Tit for tat.”

With a mischievous glimmer in her eyes, Y/N embarked on a quest to turn the tables on Kaz. She meticulously plotted her revenge, biding her time and awaiting the perfect opportunity to catch him off guard. Every interaction became a chance to inch closer to her ultimate goal.

Days turned into weeks, and Y/N’s determination never wavered. She observed Kaz’s habits, noting his routines and patterns, studying the intricate dance of his every move. The game was afoot, and she was determined to emerge victorious.

One fateful evening, as the moon cast its ethereal glow upon Ketterdam, Kaz, clad in his signature black attire, had just returned from a long day of dealing with the city’s underbelly. He had planned to take a much-needed shower to wash away the grime of the streets. Unbeknownst to him, Y/N, bubbling with mischievous excitement, had hatched a plan to exact her revenge.

As Kaz entered his shower, already undressed and ready to step into the steamy embrace of the shower, Y/N burst through the door, laughter bubbling forth uncontrollably. “Tit for tat, Brekker!” she exclaimed, her voice a playful mixture of triumph and amusement.

Caught completely off guard, Kaz’s eyes widened in surprise, and a rare blush crept up his cheeks. Before he could react, Y/N swiftly turned on her heel and darted out of the room, leaving Kaz momentarily stunned.

As the realization of the prank sank in, a smile tugged at the corners of Kaz’s lips. He couldn’t help but chuckle at Y/N’s audacity and the sheer boldness of her act. While caught off guard, he admired her spirit and tenacity, for few had managed to surprise him.

Word of the incident quickly spread throughout the Crow Club, becoming a legendary tale of Y/N’s daring retaliation. The laughter and whispers followed Kaz and Y/N wherever they went, cementing their status as partners-in-crime and confidants.

From that day forward, their friendship bloomed with a newfound sense of camaraderie. The boundaries that had once held them back were shattered, and they reveled in their shared laughter and secret adventures. Their banter was laced with an undercurrent of playful teasing, the memory of the “Tit for Tat” incident forever etched in their minds.

[reaper2187]

Cabernet x werewolf female sinner

In the labyrinthine corridors of the Minos Bureau of Crisis Control (MBCC), the shadows stretched long and dark, cloaking the secrets and whispers that lingered in the air. The night was thick with anticipation, a heavy cloak of silence punctuated only by the distant hum of machinery and the occasional shuffle of a patrolling guard.

Y/N, a formidable Sinner with the blood of a werewolf coursing through her veins, navigated the winding hallways with ease. Her heightened senses picked up the faintest sounds and scents, allowing her to move undetected, a shadow among shadows. Tonight, however, her destination was not some clandestine mission or a dangerous operation. Tonight, she was headed to the one place where she could let her guard down—the cell of her lover, Cabernet.

Cabernet, a fellow Sinner with a mysterious and dangerous allure, had become the light in Y/N's otherwise dark existence. Their bond, forged in the crucible of their shared struggles and battles, had grown into something deep and profound. Despite the oppressive environment of the MBCC, they had found solace in each other, a sanctuary from the chaos that surrounded them.

As Y/N approached Cabernet's cell, she felt a familiar flutter of excitement mixed with a pang of longing. Even though they saw each other regularly, every meeting felt precious, a stolen moment of normalcy in an otherwise tumultuous life. She tapped lightly on the metal door, a signal that had become their secret code.

"Y/N?" Cabernet's voice, soft and warm, drifted through the small barred window.

"It's me," Y/N replied, a smile tugging at her lips. "Can I come in?"

There was a sound of shuffling, and then the door creaked open. Cabernet stood there, her eyes lighting up at the sight of Y/N. She pulled her into a tight embrace, their bodies fitting together perfectly as if they were two pieces of a puzzle.

"I missed you," Cabernet whispered, her breath warm against Y/N's neck.

"I missed you too," Y/N replied, holding her close. "More than you know."

They lingered in the embrace for a moment before Cabernet pulled back slightly, her eyes searching Y/N's face. "How was your mission?"

"Challenging," Y/N admitted, her expression darkening for a moment. "But it's over now, and I'm here with you."

Cabernet nodded, understanding in her eyes. She knew better than anyone the toll their work could take. "Come, sit with me."

They settled on the small, uncomfortable cot that served as Cabernet's bed, their hands intertwined. Y/N took a deep breath, savoring the comfort of being with Cabernet. The scent of her hair, the warmth of her skin, the steady beat of her heart—all of it grounded her, reminding her that there was still beauty and love in the world, even in a place as grim as the MBCC.

"Tell me about your day," Cabernet said, her voice gentle.

Y/N smiled, grateful for the normalcy of the request. "Well, aside from the mission, I had a run-in with one of the guards. He thought he could intimidate me, but I set him straight."

Cabernet chuckled, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "I'm not surprised. No one messes with my werewolf and gets away with it."

Y/N laughed softly, leaning in to kiss Cabernet. The kiss was slow and tender, a reaffirmation of their bond. When they finally pulled apart, Y/N rested her forehead against Cabernet's, their breaths mingling.

"You know," Cabernet said softly, "I was thinking about us today. About how, despite everything, we've managed to find each other in this place."

Y/N nodded, her heart swelling with emotion. "It's a miracle, really. But I wouldn't trade it for anything. You make all of this bearable, Cabernet."

"And you do the same for me," Cabernet replied, her eyes shining with love. "I don't know what I'd do without you, Y/N."

For a while, they sat in comfortable silence, simply enjoying each other's presence. It was moments like these that reminded them why they fought so hard, why they endured the pain and the hardship. It was for the chance to be together, to share these fleeting moments of peace and happiness.

Eventually, Y/N broke the silence, her voice hesitant. "Cabernet, there's something I've been meaning to ask you."

Cabernet tilted her head, curious. "What is it?"

Y/N took a deep breath, her heart pounding in her chest. "Do you ever think about the future? About what might happen if we ever get out of here?"

Cabernet's expression softened, and she nodded. "I do. I think about it all the time. About what we could do, where we could go. About the life we could have together."

Y/N felt a surge of hope, her eyes meeting Cabernet's. "And what do you see?"

Cabernet smiled, her hand reaching up to caress Y/N's cheek. "I see us, free from this place. I see a little house somewhere far away, maybe near the woods. I see us waking up together every morning, living a quiet, peaceful life. I see us happy, Y/N."

Tears pricked at Y/N's eyes, and she leaned into Cabernet's touch. "That sounds perfect," she whispered. "I want that more than anything."

"Then we'll make it happen," Cabernet said firmly. "No matter what it takes, we'll find a way to be together. To be free."

Y/N nodded, her heart swelling with determination. They had faced countless dangers and challenges together, and she knew they could overcome anything as long as they had each other.

The night stretched on, and they continued to talk about their dreams and hopes, sharing stories and laughter. In the quiet of Cabernet's cell, they created a world of their own, a sanctuary of love and warmth amidst the darkness.

As the first light of dawn began to filter through the small window, Y/N knew it was time to leave. She reluctantly stood, her hand still holding Cabernet's.

"I'll see you soon," Y/N promised, her voice filled with emotion.

"I'll be waiting," Cabernet replied, pulling her into one last embrace.

With a final kiss, Y/N slipped out of the cell, her heart lighter than it had been in a long time. She walked through the corridors of the MBCC with renewed purpose, her thoughts filled with the future they would build together.

No matter what challenges lay ahead, Y/N knew they would face them together. For in a world of shadows and darkness, Cabernet was her light, her anchor, her home. And that was something worth fighting for.

[fallenrocket]

I love what Andor does with "Narkina 5" so much. At the start of the episode, Cassian is still doing anything he can to try and stop what’s happening, shouting to the Shoretroopers that he’s just a tourist who’s done nothing wrong. But the second he gets on the prison transport, all the fight leaves him, and while he’s still utterly freaking out, it stays internal. We just see the panic in his eyes as the ship takes off.

In a lot of genre stories--including a lot of Star Wars stories--our captured hero would come in cocky as they're brought to prison, mouthing off to the guards or seizing their first opportunity to put up a fight and try to escape. In response to torture, they might shakily pick themselves up and then make a smartass comment, just to prove they haven't been broken.

Cassian doesn't do any of that. This isn’t that type of story. This isn’t some action-packed prison-escape romp. This is prison. This is the Empire throwing people down a hole and leaving them there.

And Cassian doesn’t say a word, he doesn’t look at anybody funny, and even as he still observes everything around him, he keeps his head down. He is submitting, because he knows the guards have all the power and won’t hesitate to torture him if he steps one foot out of line. As he’s introduced to the prison, with its expectation of constant labor and the ever-present threat of severe punishment, we watch Cassian wrestling to come to terms with the idea that this is going to be his life for the next six years. Always under pressure, always in fear, stripped of any dignity or agency.

I really appreciate the show's willingness (not to mention Diego Luna's) to let us see how lost and hopeless Cassian is in this episode. There’s no need for him to be seen as the hero, that he’s someone who’s still in control of his circumstances. Instead, we see Cassian in a situation where he's utterly powerless. Where he’s going to survive, not by defiance, but by doing the only thing he can do in this crucible of misery and dehumanization.

[smalllady]

Places in Mass Effect 2 - Tuchanka Scarred by bombardment craters, radioactive rubble, choking ash, salt flats, and alkaline seas, Tuchanka can barely support life. Thousands of years ago, life grew in fierce abundance under the F-class star Aralakh (a Raik clan word meaning "Eye of Wrath"). Tree-analogues grew in thick jungles, their roots growing out of shallow, silty seas. Life fed upon life in an evolutionary crucible. This world died in nuclear firestorms after the krogan split the atom. A "little ice age" of nuclear winter killed off much of the remaining plant life. In recent centuries, many krogan have returned to their homeworld. The reduced albedo has caused global temperatures to rise. In order to maintain liveable temperatures, a vast shroud was assembled at the L1 Lagrange point. It is maintained by the Council Demilitarization Enforcement Mission (CDEM), which is based on orbiting battlestations. CDEM ADVISORY: Visitors to Tuchanka land at their own risk. The CDEM will not attempt to extract citizens threatened by clan warfare. TRAVEL ADVISORY: The ecology of Tuchanka is deadly. Nearly every native species engages in some predatory behavior; even the remaining vegetation is carnivorous. Travel beyond guarded areas is strongly discouraged. Population: 2.1 billion Capital: Urdnot (since 2183) CDEM Garrison: 2,400 (in orbital battlestations) Orbital Distance: 5.3 AU Orbital Period: 16.7 Earth Years Radius: 8293 km Day Length: 21.4 Earth Hours Atmospheric Pressure: 1.1 Earth Atmospheres Surface Temperature: 72 Celsius (36 in shrouded areas) Surface Gravity: 1.14 G

[deliciousangelfestival]

Silent Heir, Hidden Danger - 5

Character: Lawyer!Bucky x Female Character

Summary: She suddenly inherits a fortune from an unknown father, navigating dark secrets with lawyer Bucky Barnes in a suspenseful journey of deception.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3, Chapter 4 , Chapter 5

Main Masterlist || Support : Ko-fi ❤️❤️❤️

As the shadows of secrecy enveloped Y/N and Bucky in their hidden refuge, the dim light accentuated the growing bond between them. Seated across from each other, the air carried an unspoken understanding, an alliance forged in the crucible of danger.

With a thoughtful gaze, Y/N finally voiced the question that lingered in the quiet moments. "Bucky, I need to understand. Why were you so loyal to Max? What did he do for you?"

Bucky, his expression a mix of contemplation and memories, leaned back against the concealed walls. "I was a stray dog, Y/N. Max found me in the lowest point of my life, hungry and desperate. He gave me a purpose, a sense of belonging."

Y/N, intrigued, urged him to share more. "What do you mean, a stray dog?"

Bucky's eyes held a distant gaze as he recounted his past. "I was living on the streets, scraping by to survive. Max saw something in me, or maybe he just saw a reflection of his own past. He took me in, trained me, made me his guard dog."

A sense of vulnerability crossed Bucky's features as he continued, "He used to say, 'A dog shouldn't bite the person who gives him food.' Max was the one who fed me when I had nothing. Loyalty was the least I could offer in return."

Y/N, absorbing the weight of his revelation, murmured, "So, loyalty to Max became your way of life."

Bucky nodded, the echoes of the past resonating in his words. "In the world he lived in, loyalty meant survival. Max had enemies, and he needed someone he could trust completely. In return, he provided me with a purpose, a family of sorts."

Curiosity lingered in Y/N's eyes as she sought to unravel the mysteries surrounding her father's elusive presence in her life. "Bucky," she inquired, "why did Max never try to meet us, or at least reach out to my mother? It sounds like he cared, so why keep such a distance?"

Bucky, choosing his words carefully, began to unravel the complex tapestry of Max's multiple lives. "Y/N, Max had three wives, each with their own circumstances. The first wife, Mallory, is the scariest of them all. She's from a powerful mafia family herself, and she's paranoid and jealous. Her obsession with Max is both a strength and a threat."

Y/N, eyebrows furrowed, sought further clarification. "Jealous? Obsessed? What do you mean?"

Bucky leaned in, his gaze holding a weight of caution. "Mallory sees Max as her possession. She's deeply in love with him, but that love is possessive and dangerous. If she found out about you and your mother, she would see you both as a threat. Max was protecting you from her influence."

Y/N, absorbing the gravity of Mallory's influence, mused, "So, it wasn't just about Max keeping secrets. It was about protecting us from someone dangerous."

Bucky nodded solemnly. "Exactly. Now, the second wife, Madeline, is a different kind of danger. She's calculating, like a snake in the grass. Madeline knows how to navigate the intricacies of the underworld. If she knew about you, she might see it as an opportunity or a threat, depending on her calculations."

The room seemed to tighten with the invisible threads of danger as Bucky continued, "Then there's the third wife, Marianne. Her situation is similar to your mother's. She doesn't know Max is involved in the mob. She's stuck in a life she doesn't fully understand. Max kept his world compartmentalized to protect them from the harsh realities he faced."

Y/N, grappling with the revelations, murmured, "So, my mother and I were shielded from a world that could have consumed us."

Acknowledging the weight of Max's choices, Bucky responded, "Max believed he was doing what was best for you both. The danger from Mallory alone was enough to warrant such secrecy."

Bucky's gaze flickered to his watch, a tangible reminder of the ticking clock counting down to Max's funeral. "We have 32 hours before the funeral," he stated, the urgency palpable in his voice.

Y/N, her eyes reflecting a mixture of uncertainty and determination, questioned him, "Do you really want to replace Max, Bucky? It seems like a dangerous position to be in."

Bucky, his expression a blend of respect and a hint of a wry smile, replied, "I respect Max's wishes, and besides, there's something else. I love money, Y/N. Money is my anchor in a world that's often unpredictable and unforgiving. Max understood that about me."

As Y/N absorbed his candid admission, she couldn't help but wonder about the intricacies of loyalty and ambition entwined in the unfolding events. "So, you're willing to step into a role that could bring danger and power just for the sake of money?"

Bucky's eyes showed determination as he affirmed, "Max had his reasons for choosing me, and I intend to honor that trust. Plus, in our world, power and danger often come hand in hand. It's a gamble, but one I'm willing to take."

As Y/N contemplated the implications of Bucky potentially becoming the leader, she voiced her concerns, "If you become the leader, can you ensure the safety of my mother and me, Bucky?"

Bucky, with a confident yet reassuring demeanor, replied, "Sure, Y/N. I can make sure all your demons are taken care of. Max's legacy will provide a shield for both of you."

However, before the weight of their conversation could fully settle, the room was violently interrupted by a deafening explosion, the force of it reverberating through the hidden refuge. "BOOM!"

Instinctively, Y/N sought refuge behind Bucky, her eyes wide with shock and fear. The once secure vault door now lay in ruins, the remnants of the protective barrier shattered.

As the dust settled, the silhouette of a figure emerged from the chaos. Bucky, recognizing the intruder, muttered under his breath, "Mason. Should've guessed."

Mason, flanked by a menacing entourage, strode into the room with an air of calculated authority. The outnumbered Bucky, still shielding Y/N, assessed the dire situation unfolding before him.

Mason's voice cut through the tension, a cold smirk playing on his lips, "Well, well, Bucky. Seems like you're not as untouchable as you thought. I knew this hidden fortress would be your refuge."

Bucky, his gaze unwavering, retorted, "What do you want, Mason?"

Mason's eyes gleamed with a dangerous intensity as he declared, "I want what's rightfully ours. The inheritance. And, of course, the throne that comes with it."

The room hung heavy with tension as Bucky found himself forcefully restrained on the ground, guns pressed menacingly against his temple.

Y/N, too, was ensnared by Mason's henchmen, her struggles futile against their unyielding grip. Mason, wearing a sinister smirk, approached her, lifting her chin with a cruel grip.

"So, you're the one Father's been hiding? None of your face resembles him," Mason sneered, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

Y/N, defiant despite the dire circumstances, retorted, "You won't get away with this. My mother and I have nothing to do with your twisted games."

Mason's response was swift and brutal. With a grit of his teeth, he delivered a resounding slap across Y/N's face, the force of it sending her reeling. She crumpled to the ground, unconscious, as the room echoed with the sickening sound of impact.

Bucky, though physically overpowered, seethed with anger. "She's weaker than you, you son of a bitch," he spat, the venom in his voice cutting through the air.

Mason, seemingly unfazed, shrugged his shoulders with a sinister grin. "That's why this will be quick."

Bucky, undeterred, shot back with a defiant glare, "You think this changes anything? You won't control what Max built."

Mason, reveling in his moment of triumph, gestured to his lackeys. "Tie them up. We'll take them with us."

The air inside the confined space of the car crackled with tension as Bucky, now confined beside Mason, shot him a defiant glare. Y/N, unconscious and vulnerable, was being transported in a separate vehicle, her fate hanging in the balance. Mason, still seething with anger over Bucky's perceived betrayal, couldn't resist taunting him.

"You betrayed us, Bucky. You were family, and you turned your back," Mason hissed through gritted teeth.

Bucky, undeterred, retorted, "Maybe I got tired of being your errand boy. Fetching and carrying for the likes of you."

Mason's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Don't forget, you could've had it all. You could've joined this family. But you chose this path."

As the convoy of cars navigated the dimly lit streets, tension escalated. Suddenly, the driver of Mason's car furrowed his brow, eyes darting to the rearview mirror. The vehicle behind them swerved erratically, causing concern.

"What the heck?" the driver muttered, trying to maintain control.

Mason, sensing trouble, leaned forward. "What's going on back there?" he barked into the radio, but there was no response.

Bucky seized the opportunity to issue a warning. "If something happens to her, I will make you pay, Mason."

Mason, unimpressed, shot back, "Why? You got a soft spot for her."

Chaos erupted as the second car in the convoy crashed violently, prompting Mason to order a halt. The group descended from the vehicles, with Bucky remaining inside.

As they approached the wreckage to investigate, a sudden gunshot pierced the air, and one of Mason's men fell with a bullet through his forehead.

"What the fuck?" echoed through the tense night air as confusion and panic gripped the scene. The crashed car's door swung open, revealing a transformed Y/N—no longer the weak woman Mason had seen earlier.

Her demeanor had shifted; she exuded a cold, murderous aura, and Mason couldn't shake the feeling of killer intent emanating from her. Her gaze mirrored Max's, sending a chill down Mason's spine.

Mason, still processing the shocking transformation, barked orders to his men, "Shoot her!"

Before the guards could react, they were taken down by precise shots. Bucky, witnessing the chaos unfold through the rearview mirror, couldn't help but exclaim, "What the heck?"

Y/N, seemingly unaffected by the mayhem, punched Mason in the stomach, causing him to crumple to the ground. With an eerie calmness, she lifted him effortlessly and deposited him into the damaged car. Without sparing a glance at Bucky, she took the driver's seat.

"Y/N?" Bucky questioned, but she remained stoic as if inhabited by a different entity. This Y/N differed from the one who fainted from Mason's slap.

In truth, Y/N harbored multiple personalities. The normal Y/N, empathetic and fearful, coexisted with a darker alter ego.

This alternate persona was cold, formidable, and shared the same lethal intent as Max.

Dark Y/N, her demeanor still cold and unwavering, adjusted the rearview mirror with calculated precision before starting the engine.

Still grappling with the surreal situation, Bucky couldn't help but voice his confusion, "What the hell just happened, Y/N? Are you... alright?"

The dark Y/N remained silent, her eyes fixed on the road ahead. It was as if the events that transpired moments ago had no impact on her. Bucky sensed a palpable shift in her energy, a stark departure from the scared woman he had seen mere minutes ago.

Bucky couldn't shake off the chilling feeling that enveloped him. Dark Y/N's side-eye, reminiscent of Max's calculating gaze, sent shivers down his spine.

Dark Y/N finally spoke, her voice void of the warmth that characterized the usual Y/N. "Your old Y/N is asleep. Now, show me the way to the funeral."

The transformation was jarring, leaving Bucky to realize that the woman before him was more complex and enigmatic than he had ever imagined.

As they drove in silence, Bucky grappled with the realization that Y/N, the person he thought he knew, harbored a dormant alter ego capable of such ruthlessness. The atmosphere inside the car was tense, and Bucky couldn't help but wonder about the consequences of this unexpected alliance.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3, Chapter 4 , Chapter 5

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