#pauper-born

[flunk2]

If multiple apply, just pick what feels the closest to your initial thoughts. My personal answer is mostly option 6. I don't recall finding the AT reveal to be too out-there or thinking it ruined my perception of Skinner as a character or anything, but I felt really bad for og Skinner

[snowbairdd]

Long ago and far away in a village high on a mountaintop, something amazing was occurring. At the very same moment, two identical baby girls were born.

BARBIE AS THE PRINCESS AND THE PAUPER (2004) dir. William Lau

[punk-in-docs]

A song of liars and beggars: part II

— Emperor Geta x Reader (Salacia)

— 5.3k words.

— Read all parts here: Part I — Part II — Part III — Part IV

Summary: You were raised outside of this Rome. Born into peace. To know of fathomless deep seas, and skies so big, they wrapped around your whole sight. The way that at night all you can smell are lemon trees kissed by salt. The jasmine plants wound around the white walls of the villa. Salacia. And now you are sent to Rome for your father in the Senate. There you will catch the attention of Geta; in all the wrong and darkest of ways— any reblog and comments are greatly appreciated 💙💙💙

TW: for this chapter; mainly violence and cruelty and mentions of death/imprisonment. also this has turned long winded im so sorry- i wish i could just bang out some gratuitous smut but noooo i need 7k of angst before penetration apparently --

The cell you are thrown into is poky small.

When the guards push you into it, you stumble and you fall. Stone breaks your landing. Collapsing in the dusty dirt. Soiling your pretty blue dress. The sea blue churned into mud. Into filth. Spoiled tide.

Bloody grit and sand sticking to your chin that still drips blood. Ichor dripped on your silk chest. Lip throbbing. Body bruised into the colour of nightshade petals.

You twist back, eyes blurred with tears, to see the dark expression under the Roman guards helmet.

Who spits at your feet and calls you a traitorous whore. He was the same one whose ring of fingertip bruises now circled your upper arm. Even though you were in chains.

Your surroundings are grim. There’s no window. No bearings. A bucket with filthy stagnant water sits in the corner.

The air is stale. Packed close and scorching. It reeks of piss and decay. Necrosis. Festering. Yellow bleached skulls. You hear the wailing shouts of men. The rattle of chains. You will be left down here until they come to take you. In whatever form that may be. Beheading. Or a stoning.

Maybe the Emperors really are gods. Those twin golden growling wolves. And now they’ve thrown you down to the underworld. Left you down here with the dying and the dirt and the vermin for company.

The walls are grimy stone, and strung with chains. Torches the only lick of civilised orange light in these otherwise miserable caverns. Rats creep along the floors - the scurry and click of claws. Not that they’ll find any scrap of food near here. There’s none to be had. Not even corpses. Death isn’t merciful enough to visit here.

Bile coats the back of your tongue. Sour and acetic. The men in the cells opposite you m, sneer and call filthy propositions in the dark. Dark so thick it was like wool. Ask to see under your pretty dress. Leering at you. Puckering kisses.

You are a rare drop of clean ocean in this savagery to them. Pure. A blue crocus blossoming in a crack in the barren dessert. Wash away the sin. Their rotten teeth shine in the dark like knives. Hungry and waiting.

You curl into a ball in the corner. Bring your knees to your chest. Cower in the shadows as the rats run past your feet. Clammy tails flicking over your toes.

You sob quietly. Arms folded. One smashed elbow drying to sticky blood, stuck with grit from your collapse.

Your father was torn away before you could see what happened or where they took him. You heard his shouts at Macrinus, his begging, but couldn’t see where he was taken. You couldn’t bear thinking about the alternative.

Your brothers body will be laying in a paupers grave somewhere you’ll never know. Never be able to go and lay orange gladiolus flowers before his headstone. Forgotten. Your mother will be told nothing of this- of you. Of the supposed treason-

Or maybe a garrison of soldiers were already marching on their way to deliver news. To slaughter the traitors family in that white villa by the sea. Smear crimson up the walls- droplets of red splashed on the jasmine petals. You think of the linen shifts your sisters ramble around in. You think how the perfect hues of soft blues and olives greens will be ruined with the garish red of blood-

You squeeze your eyes shut. Drops of salty ocean squeezing down your cheeks. And even that is of no use to you now. Landed sea nymph. Away from the oceans call. And now you’re bound for desolation. Gasping. Dying. Dragged to land by men who want to pick at your scales and leave you raw, bare.

You never should’ve left home. Not for a distant hollow man and his even emptier words.

Sleep doesn’t come to you. Nor are you awake. You slouch, curled on the cold dirty floor and envelop yourself into the grit and dirt. Abrasive on your soft milk-and-honey skin. The cornflower blue of your dress matted with mucky earth.

You enter a state between waking and sleep. A shallow one, spliced with sliced necks, pooling blood on biscuit coloured sand, and your brothers final cry.

Sounds start chipping at you. The slap of metal. Clicking and shuffling steps.

A jolt across your cell rouses you from your purgatory. Head snapping up on your shoulders. When you accustomed your eyes to the dim, the sight of the person unlocking your cell, makes your stomach plummet.

General Acacius.

There’s no mistaking him for another. That unmistakably noble profile. The firm set of his brow. His aquiline nose. The curl and bend of his greying hair. The way he looks at you - it might just be the kindest thing you’ve been awarded in this abrasive hell you find yourself in.

You raise to your wobbly feet. Heart felt like it had taken to thudding in your throat. Choking tempo as it beats there. Muscle thick and ticking on the back of your tongue.

One thought echoed around your mind; this was to be the path to your death.

You were being led by the General of the armies of Rome. It seemed a grand imposition for escorting a mere slip of a traitor to her death.

War has thickened his body. Muscular arms swing from a wide back and shoulders. Sun weathered skin which spoke of his time out in the elements, fighting for the glories and victories of Rome. Age lay in the silver threaded though his hair. The muted pain in his gait of past injuries catching up with him. Body littered with scars that probably ache and tug. Mars made flesh. Glory for Rome. Victory.

You swallowed. Throat dry. Easing your way to the door on uncertain feet. Hands clasped in chains still. They feel heavy as mountains to carry along. He’s come with guards. Four of them. Armed and marching to the beat of his strides. A valorous man indeed.

You step close to the heavily armoured man. Salty tears leaking down your cheeks that you don’t care to bat away. Atleast one spec of home will cling to your skin when life is gone. Even if it is only your silly scared tears.

He leans close to you when you come to the door

Suddenly a warm hand - calluses and hard furrows that only come from years of grasping a sword hilt - is around your forearm to steady. He unlocks the iron heavy chains and cuffs that surround your wrists. The chafing welts they left circling your wrists as the only impression of your imprisonment.

It’s the kindest touch you’ve felt in what seems like years.

You look at him with incredulity. He claims it all off you so easily. You were easy to devour. Every emotion worn open on your face.

Your lashes glued together with tears. Eyes so wide. Big and shining and they must reflect spring sun off beaded waves like a blanket of sapphires. A question lingers, tucked back shyly behind your teeth. Unable to wander off the curl of your tongue.

Why are you unlocking my hands?

He tilts his head at you. It’s almost chiding.

An unexpected warmth flows from his dark eyes. It’s too dark down here in this filthy stuffy pit to discern their colour. They swing somewhere between bronze and amber.

There is a mercy in them, a mercy to him, you’ve seldom seen anywhere else. Let alone a man as slaked in blood as he is.

Maybe it’s mercy- more likely that it’s pity.

He throws the shackles aside to the guard. Eyes for a long moment the way the iron has cut into your wrists. Raw skin. Damaging such a fine beautifully untouched creature.

He’s certain there’s worse damage to come to you.

His voice when he speaks is honey thick. Deep as it carved down all the rock walls around you. Louder than the clanking of chains and the wails from prisoners. Whom, you noticed, suddenly quieted down. They were whipped when they spoke up, you guess. So they go quiet. Like cowed dogs.

“I’ve slaughtered many a traitor in my time. You don’t seem a danger to me, or my men.” He observed. It’s both a warning and a comment.

It’s ridiculous really. The thought you could be a threat. All slippery, skin soft and coveted as a purely formed ocean pearl.

When you are in fact shivering in a silky thin dress the colour of harmless cornflowers. Huddled in your cell corner gently spilling tears. No hint of resistance or fiery hatred. No storm to be found here in your veins that houses entire oceans and their tempestuous wrath.

He knows innocence when he sees it. That rare, very rare, taste that clings to his tongue like sugary sweet ripe fruit. Something to cut and slice through all the ichor and viscera he all too well knows the flavour of. There’s a calmness to you. A damned sort of acceptance. Calm as still waters.

“Come.” He tilts his head. “The likes of you doesn’t belong down here.” You with your stock of noble blood, shouldn’t perish forgotten in these filthy caverns.

He walks to the pathway that you vaguely recall you were led down. The one that ascends steps and up into daylight. Out from the dust and the dirt and the still living bones of the trapped and the damned.

“General. Pray tell me. Is my father dead?” You ask. Whisper a pathetic imitation of your voice. Raw and weak. Choking on the unknown.

His face is stiff. He doesn’t seem inclined to reply.

“I cannot give you answers.” He chides. He turned his back to you. And his brute tone slaughtered any further enquiry you may have felt compelled to make.

You shrink down as you fell into step. Being led in your dirty dress, littered in cuts and scrapes.

Numerous guards form a metal lined wall around and behind you. Shields and swords and the metal clink of their steps. Trapping you. Armoured cage for a pretty captive. You wince when the new sunlight hits your eyes. Bright and acidic. Gulp for thick air that meets your lungs like ambrosia.

You walk and follow, silently. Waiting to come to the place you’d die.

Expecting to be led to gallows. Or an executioners block. Maybe even a court lined with people, one where you’d be trialed to death for a plot you’d no idea even existed. Maybe you’d be shoved into the coliseum on the next fight to be mauled to shreds by lions. Gouged by teeth and claw. Die screaming in the same dirt as your brother did.

It doesn’t come. None of that comes.

Your surroundings change again and you find yourself outside the grand walls of the coliseum. Looking up at the huge enormity of its powerful walls. The golden stone standing proud against the searing blue sky.

You’re marched across the dusty dirt of a yard, to yet another cage; this one held bars just like your previous one. A cage built on the back of a cart that has two horses ready to pull it along the capital roads. The general opens the barred door and gestures guards in around you.

One of the soldiers hit you forwards with a harsh shove. The back of his sword hilt. A hard enough shove for you to know it would purple to a bruise soon enough. Mulberry purple staining your skin at the back of your hip. You barely even yelp.

The general admonishes the soldier harshly for his rough treatment. You were to be brought - unmolested.

A word the Emperor had ordered with a growing wolfish grin.

“Where am I being taken?” You dare ask. Words crack out your throat. Unused. Thirsty. Timid. Ocean starved. All this dry land is making you dizzy and miserable.

He explained. Tone grave. Before you are pulled inside the bars. Caged once more.

“You’ve been summoned.”

“By whom?” You seek.

His eyes weight into you. Wrapped in pity and severity. His words clang around your head. Coffin nails. Just like bars he shut around you.

“You’ve been requested by the Emperor himself.”

~

You struggle to comprehend the enormity of the palace before you.

Palatine hill boasted of the richest and finest palaces in all of Rome. Including the imperial palace. The huge sprawling building. The importance and grandeur of these halls weighted on you like tonne heavy rocks.

You feel like a smear of dirt among these polished white walls and halls. Crawling with servants and guards. Stuffed with so much riches and finery. You’ve heard tale of how Emperors were hand picked by the gods. They were gods to the people they reigned over.

You are escorted once again out of a yard and into this place you’d heard only grand things about. Marched along corridors longer than you’d ever known. You saw fountains spitting streams of clear crystalline water and imperial gardens with huge tropical plants. Statues of marble and tiled mosaic floors that shine as if recently scrubbed.

Guards at every door. Servants clad in cloth finer than you’ve ever owned - or touched - they carry huge platters of bread or bowls spilling over with plump fruits. Large amphora jugs of wine held aloft in careful hands. This seemed like a luxurious heaven. You wondered if you’d see clouds, goddesses and sun beams even from your lowly mortal perch.

The guards keep you in step. Hauled along so fast you feel blisters aching at the balls of your feet. As you’re traipsed in. Bloodied and low. Beaten down. Your split lip has dried to a cut. You worry it with your tongue. The little whip cracks of pain a reminder of your mortality - one you’re certain you will be relieved of soon.

You are brought to a set of huge imperial doors by the general. Who is bid to enter right away.

Your eyes don’t know where to settle first; the room is one of the richest displays you’ve ever seen. Orange fabric the colour of vibrant mandarins, hangs in drapes over the open arches and doorways. Mosiac floors polished to a shine. There’s gold and marble statues and plinths. Paintings in dark deep colours of battle scenes. Swords and blood and male glory. As if it had come to life right before your eyes. This room is threaded with gold and devotion to male gods.

As is the man who sits leisurely awaiting you on a padded lectus. One spilling with tasseled silken cushions to soften his seat. Emperor Geta.

His robes were the same as when you last saw him. Dark jewel colours of black and blue. Gems cast in gold on each finger. Dark cloths with gold items of jewellery on his breast in the form of a broach. So much gold you don’t now where to test your eyes first.

Maybe he is a god. He certainly has all the riches of one. Stood before you as if he were Jupiter and all his delights. Thunderbolts seeping from his powerful fingers.

A golden crown of laurels ringing his light waved hair. His eyes was where true darkness laid; dark kohl ringing eyes the colour of the darkest Umbrian. Earth of shadow.

He was idly picking at food laid on a rose petal strewn table before him. You’ve never seen an offering of food so large and all for one. Cups of wine. Bread. Dried Fruit and a tiered stand flowing with fresh fruit. Some cheeses. Meats and fish. All laid on plates for him to pick over and discard, or saviour at his behest.

You wonder which category you’d fall into- the former appears the more likely.

Your stomach pangs for the smell of the freshly baked bread. The sweetness of the fruit. The tart wine. Tongue dry as sand and sluggish in your mouth.

“There you are. My little sea nymph.” He sneers over at you. One side of his lip curls upwards.

In panic, you bend the knee and bow your head, subservient, meek, and that makes him smile more.

He’s snapped his regal bejewelled fingers and had you bought to him. Bloodied and blinking dust out your eyes. Dirt stroked on your once fine dress. It now hangs in shredded tatters at the hem by your sandals. Blood spots dried like rusted petals. Brutal handling from guards lay in the bruises now scattering your lovely arms and the welts banding your wrists.

You want to cower behind the wall of guards. But you are rudely thrown forwards. Those shadowy eyes trace over your poorly clad form; you do feel like a minuscule scrap of dirt. A crack in a looking glass. A tarnish on something gleaming golden. The smear of imperfection allowed to exist in this heavenly palace.

He sees your hands are loose by your sides; unbound.

“Why is she not in chains, General? Have we stopped chaining our prisoners” He asks. Ire woven into his words. Eyes unflinching and hard and he scowls at Acacius. Who remained unmoved even in the face of his petulant wrath.

“I saw no need to chain her. Emperor. Such a woman in her position could surely not be a threat to you.” It’s a barb. A small sensible thorn, perhaps.

You flick your eyes across to the General.

“I didn’t even have to draw my sword or threaten her. She came willingly.” He tells his Emperor.

Like a sweetly led fool. A sacrificial creature led blindly to her own slaughter.

The guards stand to attention. Unwavering. Wall of armour and swords around your back as you cower. Eyes cast to the floor as you’re being discussed like a slab of meat. Something without autonomy or feeling.

You can feel Getas eyes on you still. Hard and weighty as warm metal. Searing into your skin. The way livestock are branded.

Those eyes are unrelenting. Violating. Scouring you up and down some more. Inspecting the span of your hips. The dip of your waist. The fall of your chest. Plump of your breasts and hips. The once pristine coil of your knotted hair.

Goddesses would envy you. The furies would want to tear down your beauty and goodness in wrath. Scratch out your eyes. Shear your hair. Anything to steal the golden thread of goodness from you.

Juno had blessed you and kept you indeed. Like you’re fresh out of her temple and sparkling with promise. He knew it the second he saw you. He made up his mind to have you then.

You had something. Something wrapped inside yourself like a shell protecting a pearl. Something good and virtuous. He wanted you all for himself.

If he was good as a god, then blessing himself with a wife who was a gift from the most beloved goddess was his right.

He can smell lemons and salt. And wondered if he inhaled the nubile skin of your neck and hair if then he’d find the source of it. Made him want to bite down on that supple neck and leave his mark-

“An unlikely source for a traitor do you not think so, General?” He asks.

General doesn’t answer but his expression is very telling. “My spies tell me she was not in the capital for two days before the suspected treason.” He offers.

Your stomach lurches, manages to tie itself into knots. Clammy sweat prickles your brow and your neck.

“Maybe she wasn’t aware of the plot. An unwilling participant dragged into the sordid scheme.” Geta speculates.

No answer comes from you still.

“Is she mute? I certainly heard her screams well enough at the coliseum.” He mocks. Impatient.

“Speak. Your Emperor demands it.” The General barks at you. You flinch at his sudden raised voice. Finally trailing your eyes from the mosaic tiles.

“I am not mute. Your majesty.” You explain. Feeling the tickle of humiliated tears at your eyes.

“I can offer no plea for innocence, except the truth that I had no knowledge as to my fathers schemes.”

Because no such schemes existed. Macrinus should be here in chains instead of you. The lying snake. He orchestrated the whole thing.

Geta savours your words. Drinks them in the way he’d taste wine. Rolls them around in his mouth.

He merely nods slightly. You hold your breath for his response.

“Come.” He sneers. “There’s something I want you to see.”

He guides you across to the huge marble pillars which guarded the open mouth of the balcony.

You walk behind him and come to the balustrade of white marble. Peering over the ledge. Out into the courtyard below where a cluster of soldiers and horses are gathered close.

“The soldiers will ride on my command.” He tells you. Sick delight in the power he wields.

When they pull away, and the sight below is exposed to you, your entire body wrenches forwards. Desperation grips you violently. A cry shattered out your throat.

They were going to quarter your father before your very eyes.

He stood, small and beaten, blood pouring from a gash to his head, in a filthy cloth tunic, because they’d humiliated him. Had him stripped of his noble senate robes.

His limbs each tied to separate riders on separate horses. When they galloped off in different directions, he would be torn to pieces. Barbaric.

Through a blackened eye and a swollen brow your father gazes up at you. Despair on his face. A once strong man brought so very low. It wounds you.

Geta is drinking in your every expression. The full horror and pain writ across your pretty face.

“No. No, mercy, please. Your majesty. I beg of you. Mercy.” You babble.

Eyes wide with desperation. Voice breaking as surely as your heart was. Cracking in two in your chest. Sharp as glass shards. Clinking to pieces sharp enough to make your insides bleed anew.

“Why should I spare a liar? Salacia?” He asks you. “Why should I not make an example of what happens to traitors in my court…” He demands. Eyes locked on you.

“He’s offered me things I don’t want or need to delay his death. Money. Information. I cannot help but feel it’s inevitably drawn him closer to it.”

He raises his hand, calmly. You sob. The riders bolt to attention. One more move and that would be it.

You flew for him. Unrestrained. Desperate. Willing to beg on your knees if needs be. You put yourself in front of him. Put your hands to him.

The General and his guards drew swords and came close. Geta turned and and ushered them back with a harsh wave of his fingers. He was enjoying this too much. The nature of despair- the clammy stench of desperation pouring off you like ocean waves.

You could only think of one instance that might appease his lust for blood-

Dying in the place of your elder for his crimes was all you had. All you clutched in your empty injured hands.

“Let me take his place. Put the bonds on me instead. Let me take his punishment. Make me the example.” You beg. Tears shiver and fall down your cheeks. Burning drips of salt spear at your lash-line.

In your desperation you cling to Getas chest. Your nails raking gold and the fine threads of the fabric coat he wore. He didn’t seem to mind. He seemed amused by it.

“Little Salacia.” The way he used your name with a brazenly satisfied smirk altered something in you.

An arm winds itself around your hip. Cups the back. Pressed a bruise that you want to hiss in pain at. But can’t.

His other hand rings your neck. Ghosts his thumb over the curve of your chin. Smearing tears with the gold and jewels on his fingers. You gasp. Air emptying out your lungs in one fell swoop.

“You have so much more to offer your Emperor than your death.” He says quietly. His meaning became intimate. Wrapped in insinuation.

Your mouth opened, no sound came. Your lower lip trembles. You glance down at your father who is crying. Straining, wrenching forwards at his bonds. Desperate to keep you from this.

Geta takes his hand and runs his hand through one knotted lock of it for a moment. Leaning in to savour the smell of you. He moans with it.

Definitely lemons. Mixed with something briny salt, the ocean. In odes to your name.

Your father sees this. The closeness. The insulation that this man would take you. He shouts from his bonds below. Begging.

“By the gods, spare her.” He cries.

“Not my daughter. It is my crime. Take me. I am here. Take me!”

With your father and oldest brother dead, your mothers and sisters would be destitute. They would be reduced to beggars. Brought low. With him alive they were respectable- reduced in honour perhaps, but at least they’d live.

Tears bite at your eyes. You let them. Blink them away.

“What’s say you? My patience is wearing thin…” Geta bullies. Hand dropping from your hair.

It pushes you to act.

“Servitude of my body. I will enslave myself to your every whim. Emperor.” You say through tears. Every sordid whim.

“Exile him.” Youoffer.

Geta’s eyes gleam to that. Intrigued. You would exile and dishonour your own father?

“Exile him from Rome and the Senate, and send him back to Corsica to be with my mother and sisters. Where he is needed.” You implore.

“And what of you, how will you serve me?” He drawls.

“I will stay here and act as your servant in whatever manner you wish.” You accept.

“I have servants. Little nymph. I don’t require any more servants. I don’t need whores or courtesans. What I do require, however, is a wife. One who will give me strong heirs.” He smiles. Clutching your hip in a strong, thick fingered hand.

Your throat constricts. Tears squeeze. As if he’s fisted a hand around your throat and squeezed and choked until you gave. Melted into his hands pliant.

Geta has you exactly where he wanted you. As he planned.

“I need your word you’ll spare him if I agree.” You counter. Eyes hard as diamond tips. Still watery and half logged in tears.

“My word is bond. He will leave this city unharmed.” He assures. Displeased at your doubt.

Clever little nymph, too. To bargain with a god.

Asking an Emperor like him to pledge his fealty. Were you any other commoner he’d have your tongue cut out for that insolence.

Then again, cornered creatures will snap and bite and claw for survival. They will do anything.

“Then I agree.” You cry. “I accept.”

His smirk grows. Wolfish. Unsticking a coil of hair from the blood on your cheek. And he’s close. Too close for your comfort.

“You will be my Empress.” He decides.

“My wife and my property. I will own you in every manner there is. You will give me healthy sons that will dethrone my brother.”

Those words make you shrivel inside.

What have you just agreed to. You may have delayed your fathers demise. But it appears you’ve just turned the sword aimed his way to your belly. Chalked a target on your own back instead- an eye for an eye-

He turns, keeping you in his hold, he lowers his hand.

“Exile that snake out of Rome. This instant-“ He orders sharply. “Take him to the city walls and tell him never to return or I will have his head on a platter for me and my wife.”

You watch with thinly veiled relief as the guards come in to cut his bonds and drag him by the collar.

You want to run to him. You want to embrace him and tell him to return to mother with kind words and love. He is dragged away out of sight.

Bleeding and battered. But safe.

You lock eyes. Same colour as yours, shaded ocean, surrounded by bloated skin and blood sheeting his face. Cut with paths of tears rolling down, before he is gruffly marched away. Dazed, bound, and bleeding. He is choking on his sobs too.

You didn’t even get to say goodbye. Nothing. No familial words. No kindness.

He was torn from you. Now your every whim is stolen away. Dictated by this man. This cruel stranger. One who would bed you and keep you cowed like a broodmare.

You stood there. Watching down on the scuffled marks in the dirt where he’d once been. Dust clouding. Now empty. It seemed like an illusion. Had it all just passed like air. Like a warm sea breeze. Your life altered in one brief moment of mercy and begging.

Geta turns to his General. “You are dismissed. Leave. Go win my wars.” He sneers curtly.

Acacius took his leave with a frown and a bow. Look directed to you as he did. “Emperor. Empress.”

The Emperor snapped his fingers. And within seconds, servants scurried silently from other rooms. A handful of maidens came. Long hair unbound. Robes of orange and blue. He snapped his orders at them. They folded their hands in front of themselves. Heads low as they obeyed.

“Escort my new bride to her chambers. Have her bathed and made presentable. Put her in something decent. We will marry at dusk.” He informs. Glancing you up and down with a leer.

“Then she will grace my bed. Doing her duty like a proper wife.”

He strides over to you where you stand on the balcony, the marble thing holding you up. All strength sapped. Your knees and arms and bones were water. Not marrow.

It was always foam whipped off the waves that made you up. And now you sagged with it. Plaint and drowning. A sad drowned maiden in her brook. A doomed saint of the sea.

“Leave her hair unbound. I like it down.” He orders. Wrenching his hand to the back of your neck. You wither under his touch. He senses this.

“Be grateful. I spared your filthy treasonous father. But I can still make your existence an unpleasant one if I choose.” He warns.

He leans close to claim your mouth in a kiss so sudden and brazen it makes you weak.

His lips are pillow soft and anything but delicate. His tongue seeks your mouth, licks the blood off the healing cut. Moans sordidly when he does. He kisses like a starving hound.

A trail of spit connects your mouths when he pulls away. He smears it to your chin with a finger. Rubs his essence into your skin to stay forever stained.

“I eagerly await to taste more of you later. Empress. Don’t disappoint me. It’s not a wrath you want to risk.”

“Yes, Emperor.” You sigh.

He leaves you so quick, you almost keel over. The servants wait patiently to escort you out in his absence.

In the faraway sky, over the capital, new clouds sag and bloat. Darkly stalking across the once clear blue. The sky turns to grey and churning clouds. It’s too bad you couldn’t see the sea. You had a feeling there would thrashing, heaving storms and waves double the size of these damned palace walls.

Thunder crashes in the distant gathering dark. The ocean wanted you back. Neptune’s rage for the loss of you. You picture home. Humble white walls. The wind so fierce it ripped petals clean off the climbing vines of jasmine. The lemon trees swaying and rocked violently. News of treason and abduction reaching your sisters’ horrified ears. Your mothers cries in situ with the storm.

You watch at the sky until rain pelts the marble walls like lashes. Rain dots your skin. Cold stroking your hair and shoulders. Marring dark blue arrows down your ruined dress. Maybe you’re grieving-

A servant girl has to hook a hand on your shoulder and kindly try to urge you inside. Your tears entwined with the howling rain. It feels like that’s all that’s left of you.

~

Tagging in the hopes this finds its way to the right people- thank you--

@ceriseheaven @lurkingprincess @ramona-thorns @joequinnswhore @iliveforotps @eddiesskittle @roosterisdaddy36 @rose-tinted @lluviamg06 @ravensfromvalhalla @fujiihime @youaremyfamiliar @captain-tch @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @svenyves @sammararaven @feralgoblinbabe @groupie-love-71 @andromeda-andromeda @gvtosbith @munsonswhoresposts2 @shenevertricks1831 @hazzaismyreligion @harrys-titties @anaisweird @cinnamoncunt @red-lipstick-bisexual @wheels-of-despair @tvserie-s-world @callmeloverr @ho-for-joequinn-fics @bettyfrommars @rip-quizilla @songforeddiemunson @usedtobecooler @peachesandfiends @littlelioncub43 @heyndrix @babybluebex @blueywrites @joejoequinnquinn @cool-nick-miller @sheneedsrocknroll92 @rehfan @pedgito @dracomaledicte @gamingaquarius @mypoisonedvine @sharp-and-swift @chaptersleftunwritten

[ducklooney]

Unfortunately, bad news for all comic book fans, the genius artist for Disney comics, Maximino Tortajada Aguilar, passed away last week. He is from Spain and is the brother of the equally brilliant artist José Miguel Tortajada Aguilar who is also an artist working for Disney and Egmont editing Disney comics. While José Miguel worked more on Mickey Mouse comics, Maximino Tortajada Aguilar worked more on Donald Duck comics combining various styles depending on the publisher and given outcomes. He was born on 24-X-1961 in Barcelona, ​​and he started his career back in 1980 and continued his career until this year. He also drew on the OG Ducktales comics, Chip and Dale Rescue Rangers, Talespin and other Disney cartoons that made it into the comics, as he also drew for Egmont drawing for Dutch and Scandinavian comics. He is certainly one of my favorite artists and it is a great shame that he left us on August 20th of this year. Unfortunately, there is not much information about him, except on the Lambiek encyclopedia, and I learned about his death on the Inducks Discord from a friend of mine as well as here: https://www.tebeosfera.com/autores/tortajada_aguilar_maximino.html

lso bad news for all fans of Disney (Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck) comics. Yesterday, the genius artist for Disney comics, who did commission art, Sergio Asteriti, died. He was born on February 13, 1930 in Venice, and began his career in 1952. "Sergio Asteriti was born in Venice, and studied at the Scuola di Magistero d'Arte, section Publicity. In 1952, he moved to Milan, where he was employed by the advertising agency S.P.I.N.T.A. The agency folded two years later, and Asteriti turned to comics. He made his comics debut with the 'Bingo Bongo' series at the publishing house Alpe in 1955. He soon expanded his activities and did illustration work for various publishers and magazines. Asteriti joined the art studios of Roy d'Ami in the late 1950s. There, he drew for the British Fleetway agency ('Fun in Toyland', 'Freddie Frog', etc.) and for Il Corriere dei Piccoli, where he took over the 'Formichino' series from Roberto Sgrilli.

Asteriti has been an artist of Disney comics for Topolino since 1963. From 1974, he also took on the writing of Disney stories. He has mainly done stories with 'Mickey Mouse', but also other characters, such as 'Uncle Scrooge', 'Super Goof', 'Gilbert', 'Tanti Auguri', 'The Prince and the Pauper', 'Indiana Pips'." Taken from the Lambiek encyclopedia. He certainly contributed a lot to the Mickey Mouse universe. He died on August 27, 2024. Kudos to him for his truly outstanding work! Rest in peace! Amen.

[hauntedif]

Haunted is a darker sci-fi 18+ interactive fiction where you make certain choices that will control the narrative.

The story follows you, a scientist known as Dr Moreau, as you find out that your sister, who has disappeared a year ago, is alive.

Only problem, she is trapped on an island of the forgotten.

A place filled with experiments, some that were successful and some that were not.

Still, you make the choice to go and rescue her.

Though, there is another problem, the successful experiments have began to revolt, they wish for freedom.

Are you going to help them or stop them?

Do you feel guilty for your part in their creation or indifferent, because all you did was your job?

And what role does your sister have in all of this?

Your Boss: RO

Name: Anwir Scarrow

Gender: Male

Age: 33 years old at the start of the story

Description:

You will never see him angry or worried, he mostly keeps himself aloof.

He prefers to be seen as a flirt and a jokester. His employees love him, but his competitors fear him.

And you, you've known him the longest, but no matter how much you try, is there a possibility to know the real him?

Physical description:

You will never catch him with messy hair. His dark brown hair is always kept short and slicked back.

Though he keeps himself mostly busy and away from the sun, his rosy skin is clean and smooth, same can be said for his physique.

But do be careful, never look into his eyes for too long. You won't like what you see in those hazel eyes of his.

Leader of Revolution: RO

Name: Osian Pauper

Gender: Male

Age: 26 years old at the start of the story

Description:

Even though he is the leader of the said Revolution, Osian is someone very closed off to strangers and people he doesn't know well.

Often thought of as cold and off-putting, Osian is a very emotionally stunted person, who is never able to voice his true feelings.

Physical description:

Born to a mixed couple, Osian is a mix of a Chinese mother and a Welsh father. As a child, he was told by his grandparents that he took more after his mother, rather than his father.

His black hair is kept as a buzz cut, after [REDACTED].

His dark eyes are always filled with warmth when looking at people he cares about.

???: RO

Name: [READACTED BY XXX]

Gender: Female

Age: 30 years old at the start of the story

Description:

You cannot remember…

Why can't you remember?

Physical description:

You remember her brown eyes that would often turn gold under the sun.

Her voice, was it soft or sarcastic?

How long has it been since you saw her last?

Your Sister:

Name: Sofia Moreau

Gender: Female

Age: 26 years old at the start of the story

Description:

As her main caretaker, she saw you as the only person she could truly trust, whether that was true or not.

Often people would tell you how good, kind, and friendly your sister was.

Now, you wonder what has become of her.

Physical description:

You and her share very little physically. She is a carbon copy of your father, and you, taking mostly after your mother.

However, there is something you share, your eyes. From their color to their shape.

Sofia prefers her hair a bit shorter, reaching just a bit past her shoulder, it was straight and pastel pink the last time you saw your sister.

MINOR CHARACTERS:

Your Assistant:

Name: Susan Ashmore

Gender: Female

Age: 40 years old at the start of the story

Description:

You've never met someone who spoke either with sarcasm or plain rude words.

It is exactly a year of your and Susan's partnership when the story begins.

As your assistant, Susan is both a Godsend and the Devil's second in command.

Physical description:

With a honey blonde pixie cut and stormy grey eyes, Susan is a terror of a woman, both to interns and you.

New Agent: (possible Minor RO)

Name: Olivia Brown

Gender: Female

Age: 28 years old at the start of the story

Description:

As a new agent, Olivia is an active and impulsive woman.

Easily excitable, she never stops talking.

From dumb jokes to attempts at flirting, Olivia is an unpredictable force.

Physical description:

Like her bubbly personality, Olivia is colored with warm colors.

Brown doe eyes and curly brown hair, with tan skin color.

For a woman trained to kill without a thought, she looks far too innocent.

30% of the game has been mapped out.

Since it's still being worked on, some characters will be introduced or changed in the future.

Comments and asks are welcome

- Choose your gender (male or female), personality and sexuality

- Try to atone for your sins or be consumed by them

- Be haunted by your older brother

- Romance 1 of 3 Ro's

- Make choices and deal with consequences

Demo: Prologue out on 23.07.2024.

Another quick note;

Since this is only the beginning of the story, please keep in mind that many things will change.

~ Nui

[grassbreads]

What Tai Sui is and Why Everyone Should Read It

So if you follow me, over the past couple weeks, you've probably noticed me obsessively screenshotting and posting about a book called Tai Sui. And now that I've finished it, I'd like to try and convince y'all to give it a chance.

What Is Tai Sui?

Tai Sui is a chinese web novel—a relatively unpopular work by the very popular author Priest (author of Guardian and Sha Po Lang, among others). Unlike a lot of the most popular web novels on tumblr, it's not a danmei. It's in fact rather important to the plot and themes that there is almost entirely no romance, but I promise you, it is absolutely worth it regardless.

What is Tai Sui About?

Tai Sui is a steampunk xianxia cultivation story. For those unfamiliar with xianxia and cultivation, this is a particular genre of Chinese historical fantasy.

The official summary of Tai Sui reads as follows:

“If I had a choice, I would only want to be a little insect in the mundane dust, born in confusion, dying in mediocrity, never seeing the light of day beneath the fog of Jinping City.

Better than taking this wrong road to heaven.”

You may have noticed that this summary is not in fact really a summary. It gives you a glimpse into the story's themes, mood, and destination, but it doesn't exactly tell you what happens in it.

That's because Tai Sui is one of those works that's incredibly hard to summarize. The story is incredibly wide in scope and changes massively over its course, to the point that any summary that encapsulates the whole thing is going to feel like a spoiler. However, I can try my best to add a little detail without giving too much away.

Tai Sui is the story of Xi Ping—an obnoxious, trouble-making rich boy with no interest in cultivation—who gets unwittingly involved in a plot to resurrect the "evil god" Tai Sui. This plot pulls him into the cultivation world against his will and, over time, threatens to rewrite everything he is.

Tai Sui is the end of immortality.

Why Should You Read Tai Sui?

Tai Sui is one of the most compelling stories I have ever read. It is a love letter to the power and promise of the whole world and its many mundane people. It also has some of the best worldbuilding I have ever seen.

Tai Sui is written in omniscient perspective, and though Xi Ping is very much the main character, as the story progresses, we spend more and more time alongside characters that aren't him. By the time the novel ends, his entire continent is at stake, and we the audience know that continent and its troubles inside and out from countless angles. Everyone from the immortal demigods of the cultivation world to the most wretched, miserable paupers is given a grand sense of emphasis.

Tai Sui is a deconstruction of the cultivation genre. It establishes a magic/cultivation system and its history, lets the main character live in that system for a while, and then dives deep into that system's depths. It looks at the cultivation genre, at the idea of people who leave behind their status as mortals for greater things, and asks "How does this really work?" and "Is this how the world should be?"

Tai Sui is the story of countless people who were never supposed to be powerful coming together to make the world a better place. It's well written (and very well translated), exciting, heartbreaking, and incredibly beautiful. It's also funny as hell.

I cannot recommend this story enough.

Warnings/Caveats

As I said before, Tai Sui is a deconstruction of the cultivation genre. If you're unfamiliar with this genre, while the book is certainly readable, you are going to be thrown head first into the deep end with the tropes and terminology at play. It's absolutely worth the learning curve, but it will be kind of a lot. Maybe do some light googling about what a cultivator is before you pick it up. (Or just ask a fan. I think most of us would happily explain anything that would win a new reader).

There are portrayals of people/cultures in Tai Sui that are heavily inspired by minority cultures in real-world China, and some of these portrayals play into pretty harmful stereotypes. It's not SPL "Barbarian" or TGCF Banyue levels of racist, but it's something to be aware of and careful about. I'd really recommend reading from the perspectives of those from the cultures in question (including but not limited to the post I linked) for more about the issues I'm talking about.

Tai Sui's English translation is 930,000 words long. I believe this is a strength, since its length is what allows it such an incredible scope. It is also a fucking daunting commitment, and I acknowledge that.

Finally, while Tai Sui doesn't need too many trigger warnings, it does contain some pretty viscerally upsetting depictions of inequality and mistreatment, as well as a few instances of violence toward children. You can't uplift without first seeing what the people need uplifting from, and hooboy. They need it.

There's also some scenes that are technically rather violent, but the goriness is not presented as gore, if that makes sense. It never feels intensely or overly violent in the way some fantasy novels do.

Links

If all my gushing and propagandizing has convinced you to give it a try, you can find the original Chinese version (where you can buy chapters to support the author) on JJWXC.

The complete English translation is free on the website of E. Danglars, who does a truly incredible job with the translating.

Happy reading :).

[foxilayde]

My favorite types of scenes from The Gilded Age

George Russell: Ah thank you for stopping by the office to see me on such short notice.

Mr.Businesston: Not at all, Russell, good to see you. Our stock arrangement and or investment agreement is still fine n’ dandy, I take it?

George Russell: About that… I heard tell that your wife, Mrs.Businesston, declined an invitation to my wife’s party tonight.

Mr.Businesston: Um… okay… sure? She might have, I don’t really know.

George Russell: If both you and your wife don’t come to my wife’s party, I’m going to fuck over our business agreement. It will hurt me, yes. But it will destroy you. I’m going to bury you so financially deep in the ground that your great great grandchildren will be born with coal dust in their lungs.

Mr.Businesston: By Jove, George! Are you… are you serious?

George Russell: Quite serious, Mr. Businesston.

Mr.Businesston: Tonight? I really don’t think we can make it…

George Russell: That’s a shame. Ah well, I’ll be sure to send flowers to your funeral… unless of course I have your body dumped in an unmarked pauper’s grave.

Mr.Businesston: Holy shit, okay you’ve made your point. I’ll be there.

George Russell: And your wife?

Mr. Businesston: Yes. We’ll both be there, Mr. Russell.

George Russell: Splendid. Be sure to tell your friends to come as well. At least all the ones you hope live to see a new day.

[otdiaftg]

The King's Men - Chapter Four

Day: Tuesday, January 9th Time: 10:15 PM EST

Andrew sprawled on the couch in the lounge while Kevin went ahead to change out. Neil hesitated, changed his mind and started after Kevin, and changed his mind again. He stood behind the couch, folding his arms across the back of it, and peered down at Andrew. Andrew had one arm folded under his head and the other draped over his eyes to block the light. "One of these days you might as well practice with us," Neil said. He wasn't surprised when Andrew didn't answer, but he refused to give up that easily. "Why'd you even start playing if you weren't willing to practice?" "It was a bigger cage than the alternative." That was one of the things reporters had liked harping about most when Kevin became a permanent fixture at Andrew's side: Kevin was raised at Evermore, surrounded by the best and practically born with a racquet in his hand, whereas Andrew learned Exy while he was locked up in juvie. Neil had a page-long article about it in his notebook. It was crassly titled "The Prince and the Pauper", and its focus was on how doomed their friendship was. The writer thought their attitudes toward Exy too incompatible and their backgrounds too different for them to stay together long. Neil assumed Officer Higgins was the reason Andrew landed in one of the best juvenile facilities in California. It focused on rehabilitation through discipline and empowerment, which meant all of the inmates learned team sports. There wasn't enough room for a full-sized court, but an officer confirmed in an interview they had a half-court on the facility grounds. The best and best-behaved of the would-be Exy athletes went on occasional field trips to the community center and competed with neighborhood teams. Neil didn't blame Andrew for thinking the court was a better place to be than a cell, but he doubted Exy was the only sport the facility offered. Andrew chose Exy for a reason. Neil would assume the aggressive nature of the game appealed to him, but Andrew was a goalkeeper. He got very few opportunities to indulge in mindless violence. He said as much to Andrew and got a faint shrug in response. "The warden assigned it to me," Andrew said. "I couldn't play otherwise." "They thought you'd hurt someone if you were loose on the court?" Neil asked. Andrew didn't answer; Neil took his silence as confirmation. He tried imagining Andrew in any other position but couldn't see it. "I think it's better this way, with you as the last line of defense. You let us run ourselves into the ground and clean up behind us. You play the game like you play life. That's why you're so good at it."

Art used with permission by Ouijacine. Thank you @ouijacine!

[dolliedarlin]

UPTOWN GIRL ⏤SHINICHIRO S. 

SUM. : when a rich girl meets a mechanic after her new motorbike breaks down, a match made in heaven commences 

LENGTH : 10.7K

G. : mechanic shinichiro x rich girl reader, ; uptown girl inspired fic ; princess and pauper type vibes ; fluff ; some angst ; nobody dies ; modern social status ; yn is rich af ; shinichiro is a humble bike mechanic ; it’s a match made in heaven ; fight me if you dare ; sano siblings want yn as an older sister ; the parents aren’t shit for once 

A/N : this has been in the works for quite a while and is the full version of my shinichiro x rich girl reader timestamp  04:40. it’s quite a long fic i’m sorry, if you need to take a break in between, feel free XD, i did go a little bit overboard here. it took me a while to find the perfect title for this fic and when i realised it resembled a scenario from a particular music video, i just had to title it similarly. for those who know, you know ;)  

You’re no stranger to the privilege you had being born into such an affluent family; you didn’t need to worry about anything because you had everything you could ever want and more. However, that didn’t mean that you grew up entirely content; the difference in your status compared to many of your school mates was apparent and you easily became ostracised. No one wanted to befriend you as they were too afraid of offending you and getting in trouble whereas those that did befriend you made their greedy intentions very clear. 

Understanding your struggle and supporting your decision to live a normal life, your family drew you away from the public eye but still kept you in the circle of luxury and comfort their high social status permitted. You tried to lead an ordinary life but no matter your efforts, because of the blood in your veins, you were naturally gifted and still stood out. 

Incredibly studious (your father’s influence), talented in sports and martial arts (your brother’s shared hobby with you) and ethereally beautiful with a heart of gold (your mother’s teachings). It wasn’t just the social divide that excluded you, it was also the positive influence of your family that nurtured your talents and demeanour, it’s by their virtues that you shone despite your desire for an ordinary life. 

Truly, if you were asked, you would swear that your only saving grace was your family; they cared for and wished only the best for you. You will be forever grateful to them but there was just one substantial problem…

”Mommy, Daddy,” you spoke softly but sternly, setting down your cutlery so as to emphasise your unwavering stare, “please don’t talk about that when I’m trying to eat,”

”Mommy, Daddy,” you spoke softly but sternly, setting down your cutlery so as to emphasise your unwavering stare, “please don’t talk about that when I’m trying to eat,”

”Darling, please try to understand, we’re only a little curious,” you mother excused, pulling an apologetic smile as your father concurred.

”Onii-san should be enough to satisfy your curiosity, he’s going to be proposing soon,” you huff with puffed out cheeks and your father has to resist the urge to reach over and pinch at them, remembering how soft and pudgy they were when you were still a baby.

”Yes but we want two sets of grandchildren,” your father whines, childishly as you try to contain yourself. This is a side to him only you, your family and the (L/N) estate maids, butlers and staff were able to witness; outside the estate, he was a stoic and cool figure that was level headed but charming.

”We want 12 grandchildren, after all,” your mother gushes, unable to contain her excitement, “six from you and six from your brother. If there’s no chance of you having any children then your poor brother and Yui-chan will have to shoulder that responsibility all by themselves,” you hear your brother choke on his calamari, it almost makes you giggle if it weren’t for your mother’s follow up statement, “why don’t we help try and find a good man to court you?”

“Mommy, please!” clear agitation shows in the furrowing of your brows.

You hate these confrontations the most as they bring to light one of the main reasons you’re so envious of your brother. He was able to meet such a lovely girl during his middle school years, someone who doesn’t care about his status or money, she purely loves him for him - it’s magical that they found each other so early on in their youth.

If only you were as lucky but alas, you possessed no good fortune. 

Every time you think you’ve found your forever in someone, they always end up secretly coveting your wealth and social status. Either you tell them who you really are and then they have to sign an NDA or they will gauge your un-calculated wealth simply from your expensive car, fashion and perfumes - to them that was enough to cling onto you. 

”Third time’s the charm?” your brother attempts to lighten the mood and, although you appreciate the sentiment, the air had already grown too claustrophobic for you to continue to bear.

”I’ve lost my appetite,” you slide out of your chair and stand. Sensing the rising panic in your family despite avoiding their eyes, you quickly reassure them, “don’t worry, I just want to go for a ride,” you take the time to give them each a kiss goodbye on the cheek before leaving with a tightlipped smile. Your family were hesitant but respectful and chose to stay and continue with lunch after watching you leave. They silently hope to make amends once you’ve had the time to cool your head.

At the garage, you see your sweet new ride, a black honda CBR1k Triple-R Fireblade SP. The latest superbike on the market, unbeatable for its cutting edge design and exceeding speeds of 186mph. Just looking at it has your heart racing for something else, already taking your mind off of the troubling confrontation you had over lunch.

A long ride around Tokyo is just what you need to help cool your head. Dressing up in your Louis Vuitton black leather pants and matching leather jacket, your vintage Chanel, rib knit crop top and Doc Martens combat boots, you were ready to ride.

Without a destination in mind and adrenaline in your veins, you’re unable to calculate how much time you’ve spent on the road. Had you not lost yourself in the rush, you would have been able to make better sense of your sudden stop at an unfamiliar road.

”Wh-what?” you exclaim, frustration and sudden panic clouding your judgment as you wheel your bike to the side of the road and begin to inspect it. It was a lost cause, however, as you knew nothing about motorbike anatomy. It’s brand new, how can it have problems already? Exasperated, you frantically look around and spot the perfect place for your bike.

S.S motors. If its name and display of bikes is any indication, then it must be a bike shop that can help you.

Feeling a little more optimistic, you carefully wheel your bike over, avoiding traffic and wishing that the problem isn’t too serious. You park your bike outside the garage doors at the side of the store and enter through the main entrance. Following the metallic noise of tweaking, screwing and banging, you soon find yourself at the doorway of the garage attached to the shop.

”Umm, excuse me,” you voice up to the only person working on the engine of a motorbike, “I need some help please,”

On cue, the black-haired man turns to you as he wipes his hands clean on an already stained towel. You didn’t notice it earlier but he had been smoking a cigarette and blew out a final puff before sending a lazy smile your way with his cigarette laced elegantly between his long, dexterous fingers. He’s nothing like the other guys you’ve been introduced to by your parents. Instead of being in a custom-tailored Armani suit and Gucci tie, he’s in a loose and stained white shirt, the evidence of laborious work seen in his muscular arms and dirtied fingers. His soft, black hair isn’t styled in any way and simply falls down to frame his face naturally. His beauty is only elevated by the slope of his sweet eyes. He looks kind and very handsome. Your heart is going crazy for him in your chest - is this what it feels like to be infatuated by someone? Or are you just going crazy? 

”Sure thing, what do you need?” he asks, oblivious to the heat rising in your cheeks. His voice is also very attractive, deep and baritone, smooth like silk but with an edge that tickles your ears with a timid heat. 

”M-my bike suddenly broke down, I’ve parked just outside your garage,”

He nods and steps up to some switches and buttons on the wall, with a quick press, the garage door pulls up, “I’ll happily take a look for you,” he gives you another reassuring smile, which you bashfully return before fixing your gaze onto the ground. How can he have such an effect on you? You barely know the guy! 

A whistle brings your head up and you watch as he awes at your motorbike, “Is that your ride?” you nod with an incandescent heat in your cheeks and almost squeak at the wide grin he pulls, “I never thought I’d see the new CBR1k Triple-R SP so quickly, didn’t it just release yesterday?”

“I had it pre-ordered…”

‘Is there such a thing?’ Shinichiro ponders thoughtfully. This is the first time he’s ever heard of someone pre-ordering such a highly anticipated superbike. He raises a brow at you but decides not to push for answers, it’s not his job to question customers, he just needs to fix up their bikes.

“Alright, well, while I take a look at your sweet ride, you can sit around in the waiting area back in the shop. I’ll try to be quick,”

“Can’t I stay here?” you blurt out without much thought, almost slapping yourself for being so straightforward. This is very unlike you. He must have you in some sort of spell and he probably thinks you’re some desperate teenage girl, who goes goo-goo, gaa-gaa over boys.

He blinks with surprise but quickly eases back into a soothing smile once more, “I don’t see why not, pull up that stool over there,” he points to a short, foldable stool as you happily go about taking a seat off to his side. No words are exchanged as you stare at him get on with his usual checks. You want to know his name. You want to know his favourite food, his favourite movie, what he does for fun, why he decided to set up a motorcycle shop. You want to ask him everything but know there’s a line you should never cross with a stranger you’ve just met, no matter how handsome he is. 

Are you smitten right now?…The simple answer is yes, yes you are. 

It’s very new to you but you could do nothing except continue staring at the eye-candy working hard away at your bike. Usually, most of the guys you’re around are sporting glasses of expensive wines, labouring over paperwork or surveying a conference. They bore you. Being able to see a man get his hands dirty and exhibit skills outside of talking with command or indulging in riches was so so…

“It looks like you just ran out of gas,” Shinichiro chuckled after stepping away from the vehicle, “Don’t worry, I did all the other checks just in case there was something else wrong but other than having no fuel, you’re good to go!”

“Oh…” your face immediately heats up, “I…I guess I just panicked,” the two of you share a laugh, yours more so a giggle from the embarrassment, whereas his was a chuckle of amusement. You’re pretty cute. 

”It’s alright, are you new to motorcycles?”

“Kinda…” you fiddle with your fingers nervously, it’s a childish habit you’ve sustained but the mechanic before you thinks otherwise, “I’ve always wanted one and now that I have one, I love it so much,”

“That’s good, keep taking care of it,” he finishes as he hands over your keys.

”U-umm! How much do I owe you?”

He shrugs, “It’s alright, there’s no need for payment, it was an easy fix and I’m just happy I got to serve such a pretty lady,” he gives you a flirtatious wink, following it up with a laugh at your flustered expression.

”What about the fuel?” you babble in disbelief. This handsome stranger can’t be kind too, that’s too much for your heart to take! “Pl-please let me pay you back, can I at least get you some lunch?”

“There’s really no need,” he smiles softly, his eyes warm and kind. You can’t look away.

“Oh, okay…”

He can see the hesitation in your face. From your attire, you look like a person who has better things to do than waste time in his humble motor repair shop but you aren’t wanting to leave, it appears.

”Is something wrong?”

“Umm…it’s just disagreements at home…” you confess, hugging yourself for comfort. Now that the adrenaline is gone, you realise that you can’t run away forever; you still need to face your parents again but you’re not ready for that yet. Knowing them, they’ll try to push for you to meet someone and you don’t want that - you’re not ready for that.

“Sometimes, it’s better to let it out than keep it all inside and if its to a stranger, chances are, you probably aren’t ever gonna see me again, so…”

He’s offering you his time and a listening ear, which you deeply appreciate and, although you start off hesitant, you ultimately take him up on his offer. The two of you sit down first before you unload everything. His expression doesn’t change, he just listens to you, nodding along to some of your statements and giving you the occasional pat on the back whenever you seem to get a little too emotional. When it’s finally over, you feel as though you can breathe again, leaning into his shoulder from how weightless and relaxed you finally feel. It’s amazing. 

“All better?”

“Yeah…” you smile up at him, “thank you so much,”

”No worries,” he smiles at you once again as the heat in your cheeks reappears from the proximity of your faces, “But I recommend you talk to your parents, it seems as though they really care for you,” you recoil from him, embodying your protest over his suggestion. 

“But-!”

“Trust me, I may not have known you for long but from what you’ve said, they love you more than you may think. And besides, you’ll have to face them again sooner or later; why not now?”

“Alright…I’m trusting you,” he nods and sends you on your way. Ironic how you put such trust in a stranger. 

Hopefully he won’t be a simple stranger for long…

“Drive safe!” he warns carefully as he waves you off, eyes remaining on you even when you’re finally out of view.

 ─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.  ───

 He was right…Who knew? 

But you were grateful.

Following his advice, you talked things out with your parents and like the understanding, compassionate people they were (especially for their children), they told you that “what matters most is your happiness,”.

A week passes and you can’t get that handsome, consoling bike mechanic out of your mind. You have to meet him again. And, this time, not forget to ask for his name!

So here you are, facing your beloved new black Honda CBR1k Triple-R Fireblade SP with one of your father’s old golf clubs gripped tightly in both hands but from the accumulation of sweat in your palms, the slender body of the club continually attempts to slip away from your hold. You’re nervous. 

Is this a good idea? 

You really want to meet him again but you can’t just show up with…nothing…that’ll be too awkward!

No! Sacrifices have to be made! 

Raising the club in your hands, you’re about to hammer down when you’re halted by the sound of the garage door opening and the heels of your mum walking in only to stop when she sees you. After a moment of tense silence, she makes her way over, lowers your raised arms, sets aside the golf club and brings you into a warm embrace.

“Dear, I hope you know that mommy loves you with all her heart and, whether you are going through something or not, you can always come to me, okay?”

Nodding with your lips trembling in humiliation, you see your hesitant and troubled mother off before facing your bike once more. You aren’t ‘going through’ anything! You just want to see him again! This is a necessary sacrifice! 

BANG! BANG! CLANK!

“Uhhh…Damn. Huh!…” Shinichiro laughs humourlessly at the state of your bike, “It looks like someone tried to beat the hell out of your bike but didn’t know where to properly aim the strikes so you’re pretty lucky that there aren’t any serious damages,”

“Y-yup! Lucky me…” you sweat nervously, avoiding his beguiling eyes.

He hit the nail on the head and he knows it, if the devious smirk he tried to hide when turning away from you was any indication. He thought you were interesting before but you’ve caught his full attention now.

You’ve got to be the cutest girl he’s ever met.

 ─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.  ───

 It doesn’t take more than a week to have your bike be sparkling new again but you keep visiting Shinichiro’s motor shop regardless, smiling happily and never shying away from opportunities to be close to him or be of help. 

You frequent his shop so often, you’ve gotten into bringing your uni work with you to pass the time productively. Shinichiro can’t always be around you, he had to tend to other buying customers and work on bike repairs as well so you needed to earn your keep of stay around him by not getting in his way.

Seeing him working away on bikes in his usual, casual attire is a double edged sword. Even though the sight motivated you to work hard on your assignments, it was also a cause for many of your distractions. Does he know how sexy his back looks? Through the thin fabric of his white shirt, you can see the muscles of his back flex and contract as he toils away at a screw or a particular part of any bike he was working on. And because he’s using his arms and upper body so much his shoulders are really broad while his waist remains relatively slender, it makes you want to wrap your arms around him and squeeze tightly. You’re so smitten that you think the curls of his hair brushing up against the back of his pale neck was cute too. 

He must know how besotted you are by now…right? 

“She’s staring at you again,” Wakasa alerts, helping his friend out with retrieving the appropriate tools for the right parts. 

“Is she now?” the former delinquent commander muses, unable to stop the smile from curling up the edges of his lips. He continues with his current repair work as if he didn’t have the reputation of the guy who was rejected 20 times and now finally has a chance with someone, who was way out of his league. 

“You aren’t going to say anything?” his friend raises a brow at his unusual behaviour. 

“Can you pass me the flat-head screw driver, please?”

Wakasa does so and sighs in sympathy, his eyes tracing over your lovestruck expression, “it’s a shame, really…she has the worst timing,” Shinichiro laughs at the truth of his friend’s statement. If it was a few months ago, he would have been over the moon to know that such a cute and sweet girl openly liked him but after introducing Izana to Mikey and Emma, he was more focused on helping his younger siblings get along and managing his bike shop than romance, “you really aren’t going to do anything?”

Shinichiro avoids the question, choosing instead to look closer at the engine of the bike he was working on. It’s not as if he dislikes you, in fact, he thinks you’re adorable and definitely someone he would mutually pin for but that was the problem. He swore to prioritise his family over anything else and so doesn’t know how to answer the question himself; silence, was his best response.

“Well…if you’re not going to step up, I’m not letting such a cute girl pass,” Wakasa barely rises from his perch before Shinichiro is already standing firmly before him with an unwavering stare. 

“I think I’m done with this bike, can you bring in the next bike scheduled for a repair? I’m gonna ask (Y/N) to leave and go for a smoke,” 

“Whatever you say, commander,” Wakasa chuckles and gets to work with a hidden smirk of triumph. Too easy. 

 “(Y/N),” Shinichiro calls as he approaches you, the hand in his pocket searching for something.

“Shin!” you perk up with a bright smile, the man raising a brow at the sudden nickname you address him with but doesn’t object; it’s a cute nickname that only you are allowed to call him from now on, “are you finished? Do you want to grab lunch together?”

“Actually,” Shinichiro rubs the back of his neck as he brings out his cigarettes and lighter, “why don’t you go and grab some lunch for yourself? I still have a lot of work to do and I don’t want to keep you cooped up and bored with no one to talk to here,” it’s the truth, he feels guilty seeing you sit so prettily through the open door of his back office into the garage - it’s the best location for wifi but the space is claustrophobic and in constant disarray, he’s ashamed you’re always in it but he can’t offer anything better, location wise, in his shop. He’s sure you have better places to be than his plebeian bike repair shop, he can’t even converse with you to the point where you bring work to do in between the short exchanges you two infrequently have. 

“Put those away, Shinichiro,” before the mechanic could realise what you were even referring to, your hand brushes up against his as you take away his cigarettes and lighter. 

“What the-” his brows begin to cross at your actions but you’re two steps ahead of him. 

“Don’t worry, I have a replacement for you,” you smile brightly dumping his cigarettes into your bag, ready to throw them away later, and pull out a lollipop with a crinkling of plastic, “I’ll even unwrap it for you, here,” Shinichiro stands bewildered as Wakasa tries to hide his laughter from behind him. He stares down at you unwrapping a lollipop before reaching up and feeding it to him, “there you go! Do you like it? It’s my favourite flavour,” you chirp with the most innocent smile. 

“Umm,” the taller male softly ponders aloud as you wait in anticipation for his opinion, “it’s not bad but I prefer my cigarettes,” he raises his hand to reach for your bag. 

“What do you mean? It’s my favourite flavour and that’s the best one!” you huff, reaching up to grab the stick of the lollipop, “I did give you my favourite flavour, right?” pulling the sweet from between his lips, not a second passes before you have a taste to check the flavour yourself, “it’s the right flavour, why don’t you like it?” you almost whine, holding back your nerves as you stare at the mechanic’s flustered expression and red-tipped ears. 

“U-uhhh…”

“Shin?”

“Sorry!” he shakes his head in a poor attempt to dissolve his surprise and suddenly feverish state, “I like it…yeah, thank you,” 

“You’re welcome!” with a giggle, you feed him back the same lollipop and gather up your things. A crawling heat resonates from your wildly hammering heart, defeating your ears and fogging up your mind as you try to walk off your seductress behaviour, “I’ll go and buy us some lunch, I’ll grab some for you too Wakasa! ‘Be back as soon! I hope you guys like Italian!” without another word, you rush out the door with your bag and are soon out of sight. 

“Woah! Usually you’re the one pulling the moves,” Wakasa laughs out loud as he throws his arm across his frozen friend’s shoulders, “looks like your girl got too impatient and started pulling the moves on you, instead!” the delinquent was about to laugh even more when he realised the absence of breath coming from his friend, “Shinichiro?…HEY! BREATHE!”

 ─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.  ───

 With how often you frequent Shinichiro’s shop, not only have you been able to meet his close friends but now his siblings too.

“Are you Shinichiro-niisan’s girlfriend?”

“She can’t be! She’s too pretty, Emma,” Mikey scoffs in a matter-of-fact tone with his arms crossed. The two youngest siblings begin to bicker as an older, silver-haired boy stands off to the side with observing eyes disguised behind a deep frown. This makes you giggle as the mechanic beside you flushes an adorable pink and snaps at his siblings. 

“Oi!”

“Do you always get brutally slandered like this, Shin?” you pull a mocking, sympathetic face. 

“Unfortunately…” laughing at his admittance, you step forward and make a formal introduction. 

“No, I’m not Shinichiro’s girlfriend but I am a friend. My name’s (Y/N), it’s so nice to finally meet you cuties,” you give them a close-eyed smile but tilt your head at their lack of response and don’t know how to comprehend their blushing cheeks or wide-eyed stare focused solely on you, “Ummm…is something wrong?” 

“Sibling Meeting!” Emma announces out of nowhere and the three practically stampede away to the back office with Shinichiro in their clutches, leaving you in the garage with a bewildered look. 

‘That was…strange’, you think to yourself but shrug it off with a chuckle and head out when you notice the time.

After confirming that the door to the office was firmly shut, the three younger siblings corner the eldest Sano. 

“What do the three of you want with me now?” Shinichiro chuckles nervously, his temple beginning to break out into a nervous sweat.

“She’s not your girlfriend, right?” Emma asks with an judgemental look in her eyes. 

“Well, no-”

“Try harder to make her your girlfriend then!” Mikey demands. 

'What?-‘ Shinichiro mentally stutters in shock. Do they like you that much after a simple ‘hello’? The older Sano doesn’t know whether or not he should be happy that they like you or concerned that they seem to like you more than him.  

Izana nods along, surprisingly agreeing with his younger siblings for once, “yeah, we need an older sister to take care of us!” 

“I’m sorry Shin-nii but you’re not enough,” Emma justifies. 

“So you need to promise to steal her away before anybody else can! You need to do it for us, not just for you! So don’t be selfish; make her your girlfriend and our onee-san quickly!” Mikey juts in. 

“Don’t screw this up! We need an older sister!” Izana finishes and without another word, the trio turn their backs to their mechanic older brother and move to the garage only to gasp in horror. 

“Look! She already left! Shin you stupid bum, it’s all your fault!” Emma wails, unexpected tears welling up in her eyes, which immediately had her two older brothers kneeling at her side, offering comfort while occasionally throwing Shinichiro a dirty look as if he committed the most heinous crime before them. 

“Why do I feel like I’m the one at fault here?” Shinichiro sobs pitifully in a poor attempt to gain their sympathy but is only met with two cold stares as his youngest sister continues to sniffle at your absence. ‘What did you do to my siblings, (Y/N)? They’ve gone insane…’

“Oh no! what happened?” your angelic voice cuts through the garage like a ray of sunlight illuminating a dismal forest’s opaque shadow. There, you appear with the sunlight behind you to create a halo of light around your beautiful silhouette, the pretty picture of an angelic being, “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” you ask softly, approaching the trio who stand frozen, once again, at your presence. They sounded so confident talking about you before but looking at their awestruck looks now, Shinichiro has to hold back an amused chuckle, “Did someone bully, Emma?” you continue with your soft voice, reaching out to caress her pudgy cheek as you kneel down to be at eye level with her. 

“N-no…”

“Then what’s making you cry, cutie?” in an attempt to hide her flustered cheeks, the youngest Sano moves forward to tuck her face into your neck as you instinctively move to hug her close, “Awww~ there, there, you’re okay,” 

The two boys beside her have the same immature thought. It’s silly but their eyes begin to water too. They haven’t been able to experience such a tender touch from from a motherly figure in so long and seeing Emma be coddled so lovingly by you makes them incredibly jealous. 

“Come here, boys,” you open your arms and the two boys immediately take the opportunity to cuddle close to you too. They breathe in your refreshingly floral and sweet scent before sighing in content. Having an older sister is entirely different to having an older brother, it’s like the difference between heaven and earth, the elite and sub-par. Indescribable happiness and comfort fill all of their chests as they nuzzle all the more closer to you, almost swamping your kneeling figure but you don’t mind; you’ve always wanted younger siblings and you adore the little ones being so cuddly despite only just meeting them briefly. “Don’t tell me Shinichiro bullied you,” you give said mechanic a teasing glare, “if he did, you tell me and I’ll beat him up for you,”

“I didn’t do anything!”

“Shush your mouth, I’m not gonna listen to you, the kids are more important,” you proceed to coddle and treat the three young Sanos with the utmost care and love, unknowing of the cheeky grins they throw their eldest brother behind your back. It’s as if they had won something over him…and Shinichiro can’t argue with the truth; seeing you be so loving to his siblings makes his heart swell unusually large, it’s so unlike any of the 20 girls he’s been infatuated with and tried to ask out before. None of them had ever met or interacted with his siblings like you, he wonders why he ever liked them in the first place. He can only guess that it was all shallow infatuation based on appearance because you have all that and more - they couldn’t even attempt to outshine your lustrous glow. 

 ─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.  ───

 “Am I running a kindergarten or?…” Shinichiro asks himself, smiling fondly at the chaos before him despite his disapproving statement.

“They’re a spritely bunch, aren’t they?” You muse from beside him, the two of you making eye contact and giggling. After meeting the younger Sanos, they insist on introducing you to their friends as well. There was Senju and Haruchiyo (Takeiomi’s younger siblings), Kakucho (Izana’s best friend) and Draken, Baji and Kazutora (Mikey’s friends). Not only that but you were also able to meet Inupi, a young boy who looks up to Shinichiro and acts like his apprentice. They make a raucous bunch but you couldn’t help but grow a fondness for them. 

“You think you can handle them while I work on that new bike with Inupi?” Shinichiro asks, pulling the blonde boy to his side, prompting you to reach out and comb your fingers through the young boy’s hair. 

Nodding, you smile and lean forward as your hand lovingly sweeps down to caress his supple cheek, “make sure he does a good job, okay, Inupi?” Inupi nods with a soft blush on his cheeks and drags Shinichiro away by the hand to escape your effect on him. He loves and looks up to Shinichiro and had been quick to adore you as well. 

“Baji, no fair!” a cry draws your attention away from the retreating mechanic duo to witness the friendly brawl between Baji and Kazutora, “I don’t know martial arts like you and Mikey, go easy on me!”

“You need to toughen up and I’m just trying to help you!” the golden-eyed boy grins with his arms crossed in triumph.

Hoping to distract from the situation and settle down the chaotic group, you speak up, “Kazutora, have you eaten yet today?” 

“Lunch?” the adorable boy asks with sweet, rounded eyes as you nod and open up your arms for him to nestle and cuddle into. It might have been just a simple embrace to you but for the boy in your arms, it’s the only time he can relish in the gentle touch of a loving mother. 

“Should we order something for everyone?” you suggest as Haruchiyo whines and sneaks his way into your arms with Kazutora too. You don’t know what these boys have been through but it’s clear that they need the love and guidance of a secure guardian figure. If you took anything away from your parents’ teachings, it was how to care for children, “Any ideas on food? Preferably something everyone would like?”

“Why do they get to cuddle (Y/N)-nee?” Mikey shouts as he tries to pull Haruchiyo away from you, who only holds onto you tighter. The topic of food didn’t even hold their attention anymore and it usually did the trick so you were kind of beginning to panic.

“When do we get cuddles too?” Kakucho adds timidly, unable to meet your eyes and acting adorable, it made your heart weak. If you could cuddle all of them at the same time, you would.    

“I’m sorry but how about we all grab lunch first and then we can sort out cuddles after?” it took some deliberation but everyone eventually agreed after some whining. 

Over time, the children really grew on you and you, them. You’re practically their older sister now and they’ve come to actively seek you out whenever they needed a more tender care that their current guardians couldn’t compare to. Naturally, you’ve spoiled them in your own way by gifting them toys and presents they could only dream of wishing for but what they appreciated you more for is your time, understanding and gentle nature. 

They care for you so much that they start plotting multiple scenarios for you and Shinichiro to get together. It’s all a plot that results in them having you forever tied to them and since everyone wanted that, they all were willing to participate. 

“What was that all about?” Shinichrio asks with his hands on his waist. 

“Don’t think we’re doing this for you because (Y/N) onee-san can do so much better than you Shin-nii,” Mikey scoffs as the eldest Sano raises a brow, he never asked for their help.

“That’s right! She’s capable of getting someone better than you so don’t get cocky,” Izana chimes in, which raises Shinichiro’s brows. Surprisingly, Mikey and Izana are teaming up together despite their usually clashing opinions and Shinichiro doesn’t know whether he should be happy or not. Are you the only one that can bring them together like this? You’re more special than he thought.

Emma steps up with her own determined look, “it’s only because we want her to become our actual onee-san so don’t screw this up for us!” 

“Yeah!” the rest of the kids shout around him, “Don’t screw this up Shinichiro!” the mechanic is surprised Inupi is going along with them as well; the young blonde usually sides with him so it was even more surprising to see him like this. He must really like you too. 

Admitting defeat, Shinichiro laughs it off as he raises his hands in surrender. He’s just happy to see them united and happier than ever. 

 ─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.  ───

 You’ve integrated yourself so seamlessly into the Sano family that you were practically at their house every day, helping with the chores, cooking yummy meals, serving snacks and just being great company to everyone. It was the children who urged you to spend more time with them and dragged you into the home, refusing to accept any protests that came from you or anyone else. It was for the best, really, everyone loved having you around, especially Shinichiro. The mechanic loved seeing his siblings get along so well, even if their primary connection was you, he also loved how you took care of his grandpa; he was a stubborn elderly man that refused help but all you had to do was pull out an adorable pout and he couldn’t refuse. It was laughable, really. 

It was mid-afternoon and Mikey had finished training in the dojo. To relax, he was now lounging around with you at the back of the house, his head laying on your lap and still dressed in his dojo uniform. 

“I don’t like having an onii-san,” Mikey voices past his lollipop, his statement coming from, seemingly, out of nowhere.

“What do you mean?” you gasp, your shock making you momentarily stop stroking the young boy’s hair, “Shin is such a good older brother to you, Emma and Izana,” 

“I mean…I like my onii-san but I want an onee-san more,”  Mikey finally meets your eyes although brief and quickly goes back to surveying the back garden. 

You laugh at his statement before slowly simmering down to a giggle, “what makes you think that having an onee-san is so much better?”

“Because you’re like an onee-san…” Mikey confesses, a light pink dusting his cheeks as you smile warmly down at him, “and you make a great one,” 

“Thank you, Mikey,” despite your kind tone and gentle smile, Mikey still doesn’t meet your eyes as the pink of his cheeks escalates into a deep red. To further express your thanks, you lean down and give him a soft kiss on the temple. If he wasn’t as red as a tomato before, he certainly was now.��

The conversation was so out of nowhere but still felt as though it held so much meaning that you wanted to press Mikey more on the topic but the atmosphere just didn’t feel right. That and he seems pretty unresponsive after your innocent kiss. 

For now, you’ll wait until a similar conversation is brought up again. 

“You know, Grandpa and I really like having you around the house (Y/N)-onee-chan!” Emma voices as the two of you cook together side-by-side. Tonight, you both wanted to cook curry for the family so, while you took care of peeping the potatoes, Emma prepped the carrots. 

It appears as though you didn’t have to wait too long. 

You have a sneaking suspicion about what they want from you but you keep your suspecting smile to yourself and play along, “Oh? Why is that?”

Emma smiles brightly up at you before continuing to peel carrots, she’s so happy you didn’t try to correct her for calling you her onee-chan, “it’s just nicer is all!”

“I’m glad, I like being here too, Emma-chan,”

“Really?!”

“Of course!” you both grin at each other, “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be here every day,” the two of you giggle. 

“Then you want to be here all the time, right!” Emma tries to confirm from you, her eyes sparkling in the kitchen light as her cheeks become a cute pink - her and Mikey are undeniably siblings. 

“Without a doubt!”

“Then-” Emma begins, only to be cut off as her grandpa makes his entrance into the kitchen. He’s grinning from ear to ear and holding the tray you had served his tea and wagashi in. 

“Then you are always welcome here, child!” 

“Thank you grandpa!” you smile and help him bring the tray over to the kitchen counter as you begin to wash the used utensils. Behind you. Emma deflates at her failed plan but continues to prep the carrots. You’re sure of who will be the next one to approach you from there. 

“Be my girlfriend,” Izana announces out of nowhere as you gape in astonishment. 

“Ah-” the young Sano’s statement was so unbelievable, you wanted to laugh in disbelief but seeing the serious look in his eyes, you gulped. You shake the heat off your neck before it could reach your cheeks and calmed your heart before speaking, “I’m flattered Izana but I think you’re too young for me. And besides, I’m sure you don’t want to be with someone who is so much older than you-”

Izana shakes his head, his eyes still serious and unshaken, “no, you’re perfect!”

You finally allow yourself to laugh at the situation, “Thank you, but I still can’t accept your confession, I’m afraid,”

“…then be Shin’s girlfriend instead!” Izana finally answers you after pondering to himself momentarily. 

“Wha-?!!” an immense heat overcomes your cheeks and you’re at a loss for words. You had the intuition that this was soon coming but you were still left unprepared for how to react. Izana is simply too bold for you.

“You like him, don’t you?” 

“Well…- uhh!” as you were trying to find the words to answer Izana appropriately, you see the mischievous look on his face and realise the trap that had been set for you. Gasping aloud, you squint your eyes accusingly at the little boy, “Izana! Y-you!”

“I’ll take that as a yes!” he smirks and begins to walk away with a skip in his step before shouting, “SHIN-NII HAS A CHANCE!” 

It wasn’t long before you found yourself in Shinichiro’s motorcycle workshop, alone with the mechanic himself and explaining all the encounters you had with his younger siblings. As you go about retelling your experience, Shinichiro charmingly cycled through different shades of red from his seat crouched over a motorcycle. You don’t know what was more amusing to you, seeing Shinichiro so flustered or the entire situation.

“I’m really sorry about them-“ 

“You know, they do have a point,” you smile, staring off and avoiding Shinichiro’s curious, wide-eyed stare. 

“Wha-?”

“I quite like being an onee-san to Mikey, Emma and Izana,” Shinichiro gulps in anticipation at your statement. He can feel the 3 pairs of eyes watching you two and the muted impatient shuffling of small feet from behind the door to his office, looking into his workshop, “I also really like you,”

The silence that follows your confession is dense and your gradually climbing heart rate becomes the only thing you can hear. 

“…I like you too,” Shinichiro confesses and for the longest minute, you two sit in heart-fluttering silence before Shinichiro finally finds the words to ask you, “please be my girlfriend,”

Instead of verbally answering, you smile brightly and make your way over to him. Once you’re in front of the eldest sano, you take his hands and wrap them around your waist as you lean up to wrap your arms around his neck and lock his lips into a deep kiss. 

“YEESSSSSSSS!” a combined shout screams in the background as you and Shinichiro smile into the kiss, tightening your hold on one another and deepening your embrace. 

Following the news of your relationship, Shinichiro’s grandfather approved right away, so did all of the kids and Shinichiro’s friends too. 

“Took you guys long enough,” Wakasa grins as Takeomi steps up beside him with a smirk after putting out his cigarette. 

“We were losing our minds over you two taking your sweet-ass time,” Benki laughs and pulls Shinichiro into his side with an arm around the mechanic’s shoulders.

“So, have you taken her out yet?”

Shinichiro rubs the back of his neck with a look of worry, “I want to but…I can’t think of anything good enough for her,” his trio of friends give him a look of confusion and he elaborates, “I don’t know if you guys have seen her but (Y/N) clearly comes from a very wealthy family,” they nod, “and I’m not- I’m not-!…she’s way out of my league and I don’t want our first date to be a disappointment,” 

“Don’t be too hard on yourself man,” Wakasa consoles, patting him on the shoulder. 

“Remember that she’s dating you for you; not for your money,” Benki adds, “if she wanted a rich fancy guy, I’m sure she would have had that option ages ago,” despite the comforting words, Shinichiro still seemed down cast over the prospect. They don’t get it. How can he not understand that if you wanted him for his money, why did you willingly spend so much time with him at his humble bike shop? If you really cared about material things, you wouldn’t have pursued him in the first place, you wouldn’t have put up with getting to know his younger siblings or even wasted your time cooped up in his cramped office. They would have sensed that you had ill intentions with him and prevented him from pursuing you. They didn’t see that ill-intent in you, however, and happily encouraged him to notice you instead.  

“Besides, knowing how much of a hopeless romantic you are, I’m sure you’ll come up with something nice to do together,” Takeomi’s comment and lazy smile sets the mechanic’s mind turning right away. 

Maybe he could think of something…

 ─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.  ───

 “Shin? What are you doing here?” you were shocked. Admittedly, you weren’t having a good day but getting a surprise visit from your boyfriend was slowly washing all of that away, you would have been smiling by now if it weren’t for the get up he was in. 

In front of you, Shinichiro was parked on his motorbike, dressed in a suit and tie with fingerless biker gloves  on and his helmet off, showcasing his unruly hair. Looking down, his shoes were not the ones you saw him typically wearing, on his bike he was now wearing a pair of oxford dress shoes. You’ve seen many men dressed like that and had grown tired of the aesthetic long ago but seeing Shinichiro in that smart attire while on his motorbike is making your heart do unspeakable things in your chest. It’s hard to breathe and your face is lava-hot. He looks so sexy, elegant and handsome; he pulls it off so well. 

“Sorry, sorry, I was so excited to take you out, I forgot to ask you first,” your boyfriend bashfully admits, scratching the back of his head with a flustered look on his face, his other hand fiddling with his helmet perched on his bike. You smiled, you’re so happy to have met a sweetheart like him, “Can I take you out today?”

“I can never say no to you,” grinning at each other, he pulls out a helmet to help you put on before doing the same and waiting patiently for you to get on the bike behind him so he can finally race off. This is the first time you’ve ridden on a bike together so you squeeze him tightly around the torso in an attempt to secure the moment into your memory. 

The ride to your first destination didn’t take too long but you wish it did. You loved having your arms around him as he speeds past cars and buses. It was also a bonus being able to feel his toned abs under his white button up. You still can’t believe he’s your boyfriend and that you were his girlfriend. It felt like a dream. He doesn’t pry too much into your private life, he’s respectful, a family man and owns a business. Also, ever since you pointed out his bad smoking habit, he’s made the conscious decision to smoke less and less, there’s still a lingering scent of smoke surrounding him, however, but you’ll have to admit that it adds to his already musky cologne. He’s so perfect. You hope you measure up to him just as well. 

“Here we are,” Shinichiro announces, taking off his helmet and help you with yours. With one arm he pulls you close by the waist and with the other he gestures to a carefully laid out picnic. There was a large woven picnic basket in the middle of a large blanket, on the side there was a bouquet of flowers and an ice box with a 2L bottle of Coca-cola inside. 

“Wow! Shin, this looks so romantic,” you gush, taking in the scene and letting your heart race a million miles a minute, “did you prepare this all for me?” you ask sweetly, fluttering your lashes up at him as you turn to wrap your arms around his waist, your chin sitting on his tie.

“I had a little help preparing it all but it was my idea,” as he stares down at you, a soft smile lifts the corners of his lips, showcasing his dimples while a hand plays with a strand of your hair, “do you like it?”  

To answer him, you gently tug on his tie and lead his lips into a deep kiss, “I love it, thank you so much, Shin,” his smiles widens and he kisses you again before gently taking your hand and leading you to sit on the blanket. 

“This evening, my fine lady, I have prepared for you something you have never tried before,” Shinichiro announces as you awe from eagerness and anticipation. Rising to his knees, Shinichiro pulls out from the picnic basket several bags of McDonalds take away and you laugh loudly with your head thrown back. You’ve told him about not having ever tasted fast food before so this was a perfect chance to introduce you to some. 

“Awww~ Shin, you remembered~” you coo as he winks at you, grinning proudly. 

“Of course!” he begins to lay out your meal in front of you, ”I got you a cheeseburger, chips with the condiment sachets and chicken nuggets,”

“Oh wow! Thank you so much!”

“For dessert, I’m taking you out for ice cream,”

“That sounds perfect!” 

Shinichiro takes out his phone so as to play romantic piano music and the scene was officially set, your happy meal together could finally commence. He’s tried so hard and it makes you so happy. 

As you devoured the grease, processed meat and artificial flavouring, you have to admit that it was the best meal you had ever eaten. There wasn’t a claustrophobic, overly opulent atmosphere to surround you, no golden chandeliers dazzling overhead, no tiny portions of food or the need for any eating utensils. It was a perfect meal. 

“You’ve really outdone yourself, Shin,” you compliment after the two of you laughed over his yellow Gudetama-themed socks, a contrast to his tuxedo and smart dress. It was a charming disparity to his black and white suit. 

“Are you sure you liked it?” 

“Of course, I did! That was the best meal I’ve ever had,” you exclaim, your smile bright and your eyes sincere. 

“I just…you’re always so dressed up and it’s obvious you come from a good family so I didn’t want to disappoint you,” 

You smiled. He’s noticed your wealth but didn’t pursue anything else from you, whether it be information on your background or a share of your money, instead he just tries his best to please you in his own way. He’s such a dream come true. 

“I love you for you Shinichiro, not your money,”

He smiles, “That’s what Benki told me,”

“And he’s absolutely right,” you crawl over to sit in between his legs and lean against his chest, “this was a perfect first date…” you sigh. 

“Not yet,” Shinichiro chimes grinning down at you when you look up to him abruptly, wrapped up in his arms and looking oh-so sweet, “I promised ice cream for dessert remember?” 

Giggling, the two of you put your helmets on again before Shinichiro takes you to an ice cream parlour. He told you not to worry about leaving behind the picnic, he had already messaged his friends to help him clear up the setting so you two could happily enjoy your ice cream without worry. 

To end the perfect date, Shinichiro dropped you off in front of your apartment building in the better part of town and left after you made him take off his helmet so that you could give him one last kiss as he leans against his parked bike. His arm was swept around your waist and pulled you close as his other hand caressed your cheek. Your skin was so soft, he made the right choice in taking off his fingerless, leather gloves first. Your lips still had traces of the ice cream you had earlier, it was a good flavour but tasting it from your lips made it that much better. He couldn’t get enough. He could spend hours just kissing you as the world disappears.

“Shin-” you mutter, pulling away for a quick breath. 

“I’m not done,” he keeps kissing you, breathless as his hands begin to wonder. One hand reached up to grasp at your hair and trace your scalp with his fingers as the other drew the dips and curves of your silhouette. 

“But-” you gasp only to be cut off again by his lips. 

“Not yet…” he moans into your mouth, “I want more,” he pulls away to trail kisses down your neck as your hands claws helplessly at his shoulders. The entire time, your head is fuzzy and a weightless sensation sparks through you while a carnal weight develops in between your legs sending shocks of pleasure through you. Just from kissing him and having his lips on your neck, he makes you feel so weak. 

“Shin, I have to go…” you whine. 

“Please~” he begs beside your ear, pressing a gentle kiss against the shell. 

“I can’t…no matter how much I want to continue,” you whisper, stopping his incoming lips with a finger. He pulls a shocked face before it morphs into a pout and you giggle. 

Trailing your eyes down, you fix his tie slightly and assure him, “I’ll see you again tomorrow,” he still has his hands around your waist and you were about to ask him to let go when you notice his eyes had gone cold and were fixed on something behind you, “Shin?” you turn around and freeze up at a familiar face. 

“Oi! (Y/N), it’s been a while!…” the sharply dressed man shouts at you, a smug smirk on his lips as anger knits his brows, “You know, it’s impolite for you to just stand there and not greet me,” you knew exactly who he was but didn’t want to answer him so you curled up further into Shinichiro’s chest. He was a well-dressed man but that was a disguise hiding his greedy and despicable nature. You can’t believe you ever went out with him. It was only one date but it was still a huge waste of your time and sanity. You never thought you’d see Akihiko again but you’re glad Shinichiro is with you for it. 

“Don’t talk to my girl like that!” Shinichiro shouts, embracing you warmly and staring daggers at the unknown man before him. He doesn’t know the history you two have but he’s not gonna let him verbally abuse you in public. 

“What? Your girl? Are you two dating?” Akihiko laughs humourlessly at the silence that follows, “You can’t be serious, I’m the only one for you (Y/N). Your parents have me as a potential suitor, remem-?!”

Before he could finish, there was a bang and a flickering of the street lamp above you. Looking up, you realise that Shinichiro had punched the lamp post and caused an indentation in the body of the lamp post. The look on his face resembled that of a fierce beast ready to attack. 

You whisper his name softly, reaching up to touch his cheek but it doesn’t affect him, “Stay away from (Y/N) or else…” Akihiko didn’t say a word but like the coward he is, he walked away grumbling under his breath with his hands in his pocket. 

“I’m sorry, Shin,”  

“It’s alright,” your boyfriend smiles but there’s a sadness behind it. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Will your parents approve of me?” 

“They will,” he doesn’t look convinced, “they love me and only want me to live happily, you’re the first guy to ever make me feel this happy so you’re already more than qualified,” wordlessly, he kisses your cheek and goes to put on his helmet, “come and meet my parents with me tomorrow,” his hands freeze in place and he looks at you with a wide-eyed stare, “is noon good? We’ll treat you to lunch,” you smile as he nods, gives you another kiss before riding away. 

 ─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

 Your debut into high society had been fast approaching and your parents did their best to respect your want for patience when it came to the topic of your suitor, little did they know that you already had one in mind. Knowing your parents, they’ll be accepting of anyone as long as you’re happy and they take good care of you. 

You had originally wanted to savour your time getting to know Shinichiro as a boyfriend first before you introduce him to your parents but you had no choice ever since the unpleasant encounter you had the night of your first date. Your mom and dad had contacted you with an image sent to them of you and Shinichiro kissing outside your apartment building. It was most likely sent from that bitter man, Akihiko. Thankfully your parents weren’t angry and only wanted to meet Shinichiro in person. It made you grin at how horribly bad that insignificant guy’s actions backfired on him, he didn’t know your parents like you did. He probably thought they’d be disgusted with your new boyfriend and demand that you break up with him right away. 

“Don’t be nervous, Shin, they’ll love you, just be yourself,” you laugh to yourself softly at his distressed composure. It’s really cute how nervous he was, it shows just how much he cares about making a good first impression and it was heartwarming. Shinichiro knew that you were rich but he didn’t know that you were this rich. Upon arriving at the gates of your parents’ estate, he was dumbfounded. This type of wealth was unfathomable to him; he didn’t know what to think or how to act.

The front doors opened and you were both greeted by a butler who immediately took his coat, leaving him in his oversized white shirt, simple silver chain and usual cargo pants. He was clean and fresh but wished you’d let him dress up in a suit like he did for your first date. You reasoned that he was perfect as his normal self and continued to assure him that your parents would love him either way. 

Entering the dining room, you immediately run to your parents with your arms open wide and pull them both into a hug. The three of you exchange brief words of greeting before all attention finally turns to Shinichiro, who had been carefully observing the scene. He could tell that your parents loved you dearly, the love in their eyes upon seeing you and the wide smiles on their lips definitely belong to parents that were incredibly prideful and caring of their daughter. 

“So you’re my daughter’s boyfriend, huh?” your father greets, reaching out to shake Shinichiro’s hand and snapping the mechanic out of his brief trance. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you sir, I am Sano Shinichiro,” Shinichiro greets, bowing as he shakes your father’s hand. 

“What a handsome young man you are,” your mother chimes in, hugging your father’s arm, “I can tell you’ve made our (Y/N) very happy so there’s nothing to object to,” at that, you and Shinichiro lock eyes and share a smile, “let’s all take a seat, shall we?” your mother suggests, walking with her husband to the table. Your father pulls the chair out for your mother before taking his own seat at the head of the table, silent and stoic, “lets get to know our future son-in-law over some delicious lunch, shall we?”

Son-in-law?

Ignoring the comment, Shinichiro follows suit and pulls your chair out for you before taking his own seat at your side. Your mother is in good spirits but your father has yet to utter another word after having greeted him as your boyfriend. 

“Thank you for having me over for lunch today,” Shinichiro bows to your parents once more, your mother cooing as your father remains stoic. He’s a very tough and imposing character, his frame towering and bulky but also sharp and clean. Shinichiro was definitely intimidated but all he has to do is think about how you love him and how he loves you to gain back his strength. 

“It’s our pleasure having you seat at our table, Shinichiro-kun,” your mother lightly hits your fathers should, clicking her tongue playfully, “honey, stop being silly and greet the sweet boy,”

“Sorry love,” your father kisses the back of your mother’s hand before turning back to Shinichiro but with a bright smile rather than a straight face, leaving your boyfriend speechless. How could he have switched demeanours so quickly? “we’re happy to have you here, son,”

Son? 

“Shall I serve everyone’s drinks? I’m sure lunch will take a while,” you pipe up and stand from your chair. 

“Let me give you a hand,” Shinichiro kindly offers and you nod, your parents smiling happily at the two of you walking off together to serve the drinks. They were so happy that you finally seem to have found the one for you. It’s just what they had hoped for their loving daughter.

“Why are they calling me those things?” you dreaded his question but gulped down your nerves. 

“What do you mean?”

“Like ‘son-in-law’ and ‘son’, we’re not engaged…” ‘yet’, Shinichiro wanted to finish.

“The thing is, Shin, since I’m not from an ordinary family, us being together means…” your blood runs hot and cold at the same time, you’ve been so anxious about this confrontation and the idea of losing Shinichiro over this big step but it’s better to be straightforward then prolonging hiding this from him, “being together means engagement,”

“What?!” Shinichiro exclaims, his throat dry and his cheeks flaring up into a bright pink. He isn’t opposed to eventually asking for your hand but this is too soon, you’ve only been on one date, “This is too soon, (Y/N), it’s not that I’m opposed to being engaged to you but I just want to be dating you without the thought of that in the foreground,”

You smile. This is why you like him so much. He’s sweet and thoughtful and isn’t a push over when it mattered.

“I agree…don’t worry we’ll talk to my parents together about this,”

It’s clear that you’d be doing this backwards if you carried one as things stands now. Normal courting and boyfriend and girlfriend things will always be overshadowed by that looming future commitment. It’ll be too much pressure on the both of you. Thankfully, your mother and father abandoned tradition for your brother and his, now, fiancé so there isn’t a doubt in your mind that they would be lenient on you too. 

Drinks were quickly poured and lunch closely followed in being served. Throughout the meal, conversation was leisurely and comfortable, Shinichiro stayed truthful the entire time and was happy to see that your parents didn’t look down on his humble background and honest labour, in fact, they praised him for the success he’s been able to achieve on his own and with his own skills. To Shinichiro, it felt incredibly nice to be complimented by the parents of the woman he loves. 

However, one urgent topic needed addressing still and Shinichiro upon seeing the end of lunch, chimed up. He confessed that he has never had the courage to propose to you and has yet to ask for their express permission to officially date you. He then takes the time to stand and bow deeply to your parents. 

“Please allow me to date your daughter. I promise to treat her well and love her with my whole heart,” Shinichiro bows so deeply, his head hits the dinning room table but he doesn’t flinch, instead he stays in his deep bow until your father speaks up. 

“Thank you for formally asking us. Traditionally, we’d want you to get engaged right away but we approve of you courting our daughter first,” your parents love him instantly and can’t wait until you get properly engaged in the future and join families. 

NAVI. | TOKYO REV. MLIST

A/N: i want to write a part 2 to make up for the trashy and rushed ending of this fic but i don’t know how long it’ll take so i hope you dolls like the fic as it stands now 

TAGLIST : 

@anime-weeb-4-life ; @iheartamajiki ; @shotthemessenger ; @echothy ; @swtsuya ; @acuario2 ; @saccharisa ; @hangesidekick ;  @emotionalfangirl2002 ; @kookie02 ; @lordbugs ; @answer-the-sirens ; @toobsessedsstuff ; @moonbinnie0983 ; @kinba-ri ; @beaniebanby ;  @themoonandlover ; @ravensfeatheruniverse 

[snowbairdd]

- My son, from the day you were born, I have tried to prepare you for this moment. I shall be gone soon, and you will be king. You must promise... promise me that you will rule the land from your heart justly and wisely. - I promise.

THE PRINCE AND THE PAUPER (1990) dir. George Scribner

[mysticstarlightduck]

Kiss Picrew Tag!

I was inspired by this amazing post by @mk-writes-stuff, and decided to make a few of my own with my WIPs characters! I'll go with Song of Thorns, Supernova Initiative, Of Starlight and Beasts and Enchanted Illusions because I had free time and hyperfocus lmao! Let's go!

By the way, if you like this, please reblog, it helps a lot 💕

Augustus & Harriet (Enchanted Illusions)

Aaah, my lovelies! Augustus, the book's resident necromancer, and Harriet, our lovely weirdo. They've got a little blood splashed onto their faces, probably as a result of a battle they've just won, but they don't mind (he is a necromancer and she has seen some stuff, why would they mind lmao?)

Renn & Roselyn (Song of Thorns)

They're adorable and I love them with all my heart, Your Honor, lmao. Renn is a half-vampire fey who was born a noble and became a thief due to unfortunate circumstances, and Roselyn is his sweetheart who is a spirited girl ready to defeat the King.

Elveryn & Cadenza (Song of Thorns)

The Monster Hunter who fell in love with an Elven Fey and both of them had a redemption arc. Technically his hair isn't white (Kane's is, not his) but a very pale shade of blond that the picrew didn't have, and he actually wears precision goggles instead of glasses, but you get the idea!

Tarrant & Aiden (Song of Thorns)

Tarrant (the one with red hair), the Silver Snake, and his lover Aiden (they/he), with whom he has a secret love story (which is a secret he has to keep hidden lest endanger Aiden because of his employer). Somewhat-starcrossed lovers with a dash of them being two angsty fools who are bad at communication lmao.

Jasen & Prince Alaric (Song of Thorns)

The Prince (Alaric) and the Pauper (Jasen), essentially! Again, Alaric's hair is actually a shade between dark auburn and dark blond, but I couldn't find it in the picrew so I went with the next best thing. They haven't had a chance to really kiss in the story but have been pining (without being aware that the feeling is mutual because they sure as heck are bad at reading emotions lmao.) for over a year, and really want to have that chance!

Jack & Lyorna (Supernova Initiative)

Once more, lol, Jack's hair is actually not this shade - he is red-haired, but his hair color is more of a natural auburn than this - but regardless! Lyorna is a young freedom fighter from an alien planet in the Khosmonian galaxies, and they meet during Jack's mission there and fell in love! They are adorable and stubborn.

Deimos & Vesper (Supernova Initiative)

ENEMIES TO LOVERS Y'ALL!!! Actually it's more of a Rivals-to-lovers situation lmao, but still. The Sniper and the Assassin. The Alien and the Cyborg. Both incredibly efficient at what they do, they initially annoyed each other to no end and were infuriated at the prospect of having to work together, but slowly, oh so slowly, started to care for each other and eventually fell in love, begrudgingly lmao.

Arammys & Corah (Of Starlight and Beasts)

The Mage and the Knight! Friends to Lovers! Arammys meets Corah by accident after losing his memories, and the duo embarks on a fateful quest to save the continent from a warmongering queen and break an ancient prophecy, after she (Corah) learns of the land's fate.

(Arammys hai is actually golden but I didn't find the option!)

Tagging (gently): @sleepy-night-child, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @smol-feralgremlin, @oh-no-another-idea, @littleladymab,

@winterandwords, @cowboybrunch, @eccaiia, @sarahlizziewrites, @illarian-rambling

@agirlandherquill, @anoelleart

@leave-her-a-tome, @writernopal, @anyablackwood, @unstablewifiaccess, @forthesanityofstorytellers

@i-can-even-burn-salad, @cakeinthevoid

@lassiesandiego, @thepeculiarbird, @clairelsonao3, @memento-morri-writes, @starlit-hopes-and-dreams and OPEN TAG

[between-the-realms]

Nobles and Paupers

@brimfire-and-hellstone

The days have started to grow long and hot in Sunray Province. The sun would stare down on the plainsland and only ever seemed to give when a lonely cloud crossed her sacred path. Luckily for Grimalda, she got to wait inside the Temple of Light, right outside her sister's, Ana, study. Her dark hood pulled tightly over her hair, trying her best not to look aby of the preosts in the eye. She wanted to get in there and then leave as soon as she could. She never liked the prying eyes of this place.

Unluckily, Murdoch was currently waiting outside of said Temple. Sure, he could go in without much Hassel, as long as he kept his hands in his pockets, but that wasn't the point. In all technicality, the church would rather him dead than among the living. All because of something he couldn't quite help. He was one of the few dark mages of this world, not that he ever used his abilities to hurt others. It was simply the element he was born with.

Murdoch was 25 yeas old, with pale skin and icy blue eyes. His semi-long raven black hair was pulled back in a sad ponytail due to the heat and needing to keep it out of his eyes. He also wore a simple white shirt and brown trousers, looking much like a peasant or a farmer.

After he watched Grimalda wander into the temple, he flitted to the alleyway beside the church, leaning against the wall. There was no one around, and he doubted anyone would show. This alleyway usually stayed pretty clear. So Murdoch was flicking a long shadow tendril down from his finger and up again, almost like one would a yo-yo, simply practicing this simple maneuver.

[badass-at-fandoming]

Is Beckett meant to be a poc (in vtmb)? I think so based on his facial features and his skin being a light shade of brown. But he was born in Britain during the 1700s-1600s which makes being non-white a lot less likely (though there were poc even back then).

This is an interesting question, @chinesegal! Thank you for your patience with me answering it. I was traveling, but now I'm back!

When I look at Beckett in Bloodlines, I interpret him as a white British man. But a lot can change depending on what mods one uses to make the game work. For example, this Beckett...

...looks much less pale than this Beckett:

One must also factor in Bloodlines' poor lighting. As any visual artist trying to figure out Sebastian LaCroix's hair color will tell you, the lighting in VTMB is a terrible, mercurial beast. The dingy lighting certainly aides the grimy, uncertain atmosphere, but poor fan artists struggle.

The last sticky point I can think of is how all the Kindred characters are supposed to have a "deathly pallor," especially if they have lower Humanity. Deathly pallor can muck up skin tone wonderfully. I think Strauss would be the best example. He's an older Kindred (LA by Night states he was at the Convention of Thorns in 1493) and made a gargoyle (which involves torture), so he's definitely on the lower end of the Humanity scale. According to VtM's lore, Strauss has trouble maintaining a lively, human appearance. Some fans interpret him as white and often point to his white voice actor, Jim Ward. Others remark on Strauss' resemblance to Morpheus from The Matrix Trilogy, cite the deathly pallor lore, and interpret him as a Black man with graying skin. As in, Strauss looks closer to what a Black man's corpse would look like. The deathly pallor factor allows for this interpretation, and in the gap can nicely fit Cuthbert Beckett. He's an Elder Kindred and has had periods of low Humanity. Maybe he's brown and has been through the wringer.

VtM has a tenuous relationship with history, but if you want to check in with it, real life history doesn't obstruct an interpretation of Beckett as Black or brown. British people have had black or brown skin since forever, as you referenced. The oldest Englishman, Mesolithic era Cheddar man's skin is possibly darker than the reconstruction suggests. Ya gotta remember that white skin came to be because people weren't getting enough Vitamin D. If Beckett is descended from the indigenous Celtic Britons (unlikely but possible), his ancestors might not have been malnourished and lived somewhere the sun could penetrate the mists of Avalon.

So like, given all the above, you can definitely argue that Beckett's a Black or brown British guy. Whatever floats your boat.

That wasn't exactly your question, however. You asked if Beckett's meant to be a person of color or white. This implies you want to know the devs' original intention with the game, which I guess at being Beckett as a white man.

Beckett has been described as white in past White Wolf publications. Or rather, not described, because white is default skin tone in so many works, very unfortunately. In the Victorian Trilogy, much is made of Halim Bey, Theo Bell, and Hesha Ruhadze's black skin, but Beckett's skin tone gets no comment. He's "a long-haired man" with a "wolfish grin one might imagine on a privateer from a past age," (The Wounded King, pg 123-125). Someone describes him as "a pauper's version of Buffalo Bill Cody," (197). When his lover Emma disrobes him, the text notes "his feline pupil slits [and] amber irises," (pg 204). Special attention is paid to Beckett's hands: "dark hair, slick like sable covered the back of his hand, fading to a more human-seeming growth on his forearms" and "His fingers were longer than a man's should be, and the nails were hard and thick like a dog's," (ibid). In Year of the Scarab Trilogy's Land of the Dead, he describes himself with "lean, muscular physique [with] round smoked glasses [hinting] at a pretty boy slumming," (pg 101). By the absence of skin tone description, by the unfortunate reality that white skin is seen as default and therefore unworthy of comment, we can infer that Beckett is white. That's to say nothing of the Vampire: the Masquerade - Beckett comic, which depicts him as white. I wouldn't give the VTMB developers the grace or credit to suddenly deter from this character history.

After all, these are the same devs that failed to come up with a story with Chinese people that wasn't Yellow Peril drivel, created a white PC with "locs," declined to brown Nines' skin, and made Skelter imply that Black Americans make up their own oppression. Just like, all of Chinatown is hard for Chinese and Japanese players to get through. Even by 2004 standards, it's real shitty. With these other missteps, it's hard to imagine they'd have the creativity to re-design Beckett as brown or Black. I think they meant him to be interpreted as white.

But you don't have to! Death to the authors! In your fan art, fan casts, picrew, fanfic, chronicles etc, he can be brown, Black, indigenous, or whatever ethnicity bees your knees. You create the Beckett reality in your Beckett-loving head.

Thank you again for the ask, and I hope the essay made the wait worth it!

[sylvies-chen]

the wesper deleted scene reminded me of how I will never not laugh at the fact that wylan van eck was born into a wealthy family who neglected him and mocked him severely until he was forced to live on the streets as a pauper and then the first person wylan truly falls in love with just so happens to be a sharpshooting money-loving gambler who’s part of an extremely exclusive criminal enterprise with a leader dedicated to making as much coin as possible like WHAT KIND OF WEALTH AND PROSPERITY LUCKY CHARM DOES THIS GUY HAVE LMAOO

[sazeracs]

I’m sure someone else has beaten me to it, but here’s a translation of the ledger Andreas can find in the abbey library, with my translation notes – long post below the cut:

Mother Katharine, Prioress AD 1459[1]

Sister Hildegard, 16 years old Named Anna Gölderich, of Ravensburg. Proficient in Latin. Studious and obedient, with a soft, pious voice. 150 florins donated by her father. Additional 15 florins annually.

Mother Hildegard[2] AD March 1481

Sister Cecilia Daughter of the Welser family of Augsburg[3]. Named Adelheit. She is wise and learned in Latin and French. 200 florins given by the family before her arrival. Additional promise of 20 florins annually. AD August 1505

Sister Gertrude Named Metze[4] Huberyn, born in the Variscan Court[5]. Minimal proficiency in Latin. Kind and knowledgeable about herbal medicine. Most knowledge passed down by her father, an apothecary, who donated six florins to the monastery.

Sister[6] Matilda, 17 years old From Kempten[7], named Matilda. Moderately proficient in Latin. Calm, disciplined. Daughter of a Frisian merchant who donated ten florins and a large quantity of ultramarine pigment for the Scriptorium’s use. Mittenwald Ascetarium, May 1515 to September 1515[8]

Sister Illuminata Named Angelina, from the noble Capocci[9] family of Perugia, who were close to Abbot Rudolf[10]. Extremely learned in Latin as well as French and Germanic languages[11]. Restrained[12], sensible, and perceptive. The Capocci family donated 50 florins before her arrival, with an additional promise of 20 florins annually. 1507

Mother Cecilia, Prioress February AD 1510

Sister Sophia Born to the Hafner family in Birgitz. No knowledge of Latin but gentle and reverent. Parents are humble paupers. Three sacks of flour donated. AD 1512

Sister Lijsbet, 34 years old Born in Dutch Trecht[13], from the Hack Woutersen marriage[14]. Moderately proficient in Latin but proficient in Saxon. Hardworking and pious. Merchant parents. She has long been connected to Kiersau through her mother’s family, the Kaufmanns of Rothenburg ob der Tauer. They gave 12 florins, with an additional promise of two florins annually. AD 1514

Sister Margarete From the Auer family in Krimml. Mostly blind due to glaucoma. Can see colours. Moderately proficient in Latin. The daughter of wealthy peasants who each donated bags of wool and pastureland in Krimml. AD 1515

Sister Zdena The third daughter of the Rožmberk family of Tábor[15]. Very learned and proficient in Latin. The Rožmberks paid 100 florins before her arrival, with an additional promise of 30 florins annually.

---

[1] In the original text, the year is written as MCCCCLVIIII. Typically this would be written as MCDLIX, in accordance with subtractive notation (i.e. how we normally write Roman numerals), but there are historical examples of additive notation sometimes being used, for some reason – sometimes both would be used interchangeably in the same document, or even the same number.

[2] This entry likely documents Hildegard’s promotion as opposed to there being two Hildegards in the abbey, as there’s no other information included and the same is done for Sister, later Mother Cecilia below.

[3] The Latin here is originally pretty clunky and obscure (“Welser daughter of the Augsburg Vindelici”); Andreas explicitly mentions Cecilia’s family as well (and telegraphs other important information for the player this way). The Welsers were a German merchant family that rose to prominence in the 16th century as financiers for the Habsburgs along with another family, the Fuggers. They accumulated their wealth mainly through trade and the German colonisation of the Americas, including enslaved labour, so. Yikes!  The Vindelici were a Gallic people based in present-day Augsburg; I don’t actually know if the Welsers themselves were descended from them, but I’d assume so, given that the region is correct.

[4] Diminutive form of Mechthild.

[5] The contemporary name for Hof, believed at the time to be the seat of the Varisci/Narisci people.

[6] Sister Matilda is an oblate, as are Lijsbet and Magarete. Oblates aren’t professed monks or nuns, and so are technically part of the laity, but have associated themselves with a monastic community. They make formal promises – either annually or for life, depending on their affiliated monastery – to follow the Rule of the Order; as a result, they’re considered an extended part of the monastic community.

[7] I initially was stumped by this word and thought it referred to Matilda’s occupation in the abbey as cellarer, but then remembered Andreas reads she’s from Kempten, the old Latin name for which is, indeed, Cambodunum.

[8] Matilda’s age is either current in 1518, which would’ve meant she was 14 when Lorenz Rothvogel attacked her, or her record was retroactively updated to reflect her leave in 1515, making her 20+. Unfortunately, I think both are equally plausible, though being in her 20s would mean her relationship with Brother Wojslav, who imo appears to be older, has (slightly) less of an age gap.

[9] A quick search reveals the real-life Capocci were mostly associated with Viterbo, which is not Perugia lol.

[10] Another clunker originally.

[11] Theodiscus was the contemporary term referring to West Germanic languages; it comes from a Germanic adjective meaning ‘of the people.’ Since Latin was the language of science and religion, theodiscus was its opposite, i.e. the language spoken by the people.

[12] Retinēre very broadly means ‘to keep or hold back’ and so usually gets translated as either ‘to restrain’ or ‘to uphold.’ In describing a person, it can suggest any number of things: literally, physically restrained, or emotionally restrained, as in temperate or even repressed; someone who is steadfast and firm, or simply just is intelligent – as in, literally retains information well. Illuminata is all of these things, but I think ‘restrained’ suits her most compared to, say, tenacious.

[13] Utrecht. The city takes its name from the Roman fort Traiectum on the Rhine.

[14] Imma be real with you chief, other than Hack and Woutersen both being Dutch names, I have no fucking clue what this references – if anything – and I’ve found nothing that would help shed some light on it, either.

[15] The Rožmberk (Rosenberg) family was one of, if not the most powerful noble family in Bohemia from the 13th century until the early 17th century. Zdena is RICH rich, but her story is also pretty sad; it’s little wonder she’s Like That.

[mail-me-a-snail]

5 songs, 3 outfits✨

Rules: post 5 songs associated with your OC, followed by 3 outfits they would wear.

tagged by @glitchinginthegarden !! finally getting to do this >3> and of course, who else will we ball with if not my love my light vance <3

⭐FIVE SONGS

spring / sun / winter / dread by everything everything

The hands loom heavy with only an hour to go I hold my breath but the seekers will find me Priest and pauper, the leper, can't change his spots The king knows and I know, and everybody knows

2. evil eye by franz ferdinand

Some people get a freak outta me Some people can't see what I can Some people wanna see what I see Some people put an evil eye on me

3. lampshades on fire by modest mouse

Pack up again, head to the next place Where we'll make the same mistakes Open one up and let it fall to the ground Pile out the door when it all runs out

4. stray dog by amigo the devil (personally i like the acoustic version rather than the studio version for vance)

But you don't know that while I watch you Try to fix me, I let you Cause I'm only trying to give you the purpose you need But someday you'll see that I'm the one who's free And maybe you'll be a stray dog with me

5. cocaine and abel by amigo the devil

The distance from the man that I am to the man I want to be The time it takes to realize time is the distance I need But I was born impatient And I was born unkind But I refuse to believe I have to be The same person I was born when I die 'Cause change is alright Change is alright

⭐THREE OUTFITS

the first two fits are definitely cute n' casual fits; he prioritizes his own personal comfort in an outfit over what it actually looks like (which isn't to say he doesn't care about slaying--he does, wholeheartedly, he'd just like to be cozy doing so)

the last fit however...call it kerry/johnny's influence but vance would look really fucking good in leather. im seeing this outfit in my mind's eye as something he might wear out for a night on the town, maybe during his arasaka days or even currently! for a colorful guy--in terms of personality--he owns a lot of black clothing

tagging @swearingcactus @a-gay-little-cat @silver-samurai and whoever else wants to do this !! no pressure if you've been tagged btw :3