#ruling an empire is stressful business

[wntrs0ldier]

An Offer · part 05

pairing: mob!bucky x reader words: 4,4k warnings: typical mafia (dark themes, language, violence, etc.)

<previous part | next part> | series masterlist

series summary: When your father dies, the only thing you can do for your family and the empire he built, is to marry a powerful man.

chapter sneak peek: “It's time for you to go, I suppose. Is that correct, boy?”

You nearly winced at how patronizing Michael addressed Bucky. It was almost insulting, meant to put Bucky back in his place. He, however, looked composed, but you got to know him well enough to be aware that he would rip Michael's head off if the opportunity arose.

At first you saw it as a nightmare, the meeting with John Walker. No matter how many times you told yourself you were fulfilling your duty to the Family, fear, uncertainty and stress were the only things that duty brought you. Yet, given the darkest scenarios swirling in your mind, and memories of the meeting with Brock Rumlow, John seemed like a really decent type. 

He invited you to dinner to one of the most expensive, top rated restaurants in the city. To get in, it was usually necessary to make a reservation several weeks in advance. Suspecting that his highly influential uncle had a hand in the whole venture, you appreciated the effort anyway. You were surprised, however, that John didn't give up, didn’t take the path of least resistance, despite the fact that you hadn't shown any interest so far. 

Without being gross or intrusive, he complimented the red dress you wore; asked about your work and hobbies, didn't mention business. You felt like you were on a real date, moreover, a nice one. Seeing that jumping from Brock to John wasn't going from bad to worse let you feel at ease. For the first time in, it seemed, an eternity.

Despite everything, there was something missing. You had no desire to throw yourself at John, no curiosity about what his lips tasted like. Essentially, you didn't need that in an arranged marriage, but guessed there will be time for everything. With Bucky, though, time was necessary – all you needed was a single look. But he wasn’t an option.

“Wow, that was… beautiful,” John claimed after you laughed at the joke he told. In reality, you were amused by how unfunny and stupid the joke was. Perhaps the consumed alcohol and the pleasant atmosphere also played a part. 

“Well… Thank you,” you said, lifting a glass of wine to your lips. When you emptied it, John immediately came with a refill. “Don't you think we should talk about business?” 

“What exactly do you want to talk about?”

“How would that work,” you suggested with a casual shrug. “You haven't mentioned an agreement yet, so I suspect you haven't prepared one. That's a bit…” You hesitated, wondering briefly if you would offend him with your choice of words. “Strange, considering, you know, the nature of our profession.”

John smiled, then hung his head and shook it. “I guess we'll just have to trust each other. Not to sound like an asshole, but I've heard that Rumlows have backed out. At least for now. If not them, your father's business will be ruined, leaving your Family with nothing. I also know that Stark has started to turn his nose at your partnership. You’re in a bind, Y/N. And I want to do this the easy way. No complex agreement, just some basic arrangements.” He raised his hands up in surrender.

You were struck by how honest and straightforward he was. Fair to both of you. 

“But… Why?” You asked quietly. “Why are you so nice about it?” 

“You don’t know?” He pretended to be surprised. “I've always wanted you, and now I have my chance. I don't want to do it through a system of rules and punishments. Not too bad, right? And taking charge of what your father created will help me strengthen my position.”

There was a moment of silence as John gave you time to process what he just said. Soon, however, he grabbed his glass and raised it for a small toast.

“So, what'll it be? Can I keep trying or are you giving up on me?”

It was clear that he wasn't really offering you a choice – you could only decide how to play it; keep John at a distance, or make it easier for him to approach you, let him court you.

Having clinked glasses, you both drank the wine, but you could barely taste it. Only the bitterness that the future was to bring. At this point you thought you were prepared for a marriage without love or at least friendship, but the closer you got to one, the more panic you felt. Being aware that the whole situation was difficult, you still didn't expect such a burden.

“Don’t worry,” John added, seeing the concern on your face. “Maybe one day you'll love me. Maybe when kids come along.” He shrugged. Your eyes widened, but John didn't mind it. “What? Someone will have to take care of your father's legacy in case we're gone, don't you think?” He smiled sincerely. You wondered if he was already fantasizing about the future with you. 

Destroying the atmosphere with the shock you experienced wasn’t part of your intentions. The only right idea was to kill the negative feelings with a little more alcohol, so you asked John to refill your glass again, and he did so with pleasure. While dipping your lips in the wine, your eyes wandered mindlessly around the room until they landed on a familiar face – the last person you expected to be here.

You choked, and the sticky drink dripped down your chin. A momentary, barely noticeable panic crossed Bucky's face as he watched you carefully from his table – as if he was concerned that you might have choked to death. However, he stayed in place; rushing to help you would have exposed him.

“Oh God, are you all right?” John handed you a napkin right away, which you accepted and wiped your chin with a few delicate taps to avoid washing off your makeup. 

“I’m sorry. Gone down the wrong way,” you struggled for breath. 

“It’s fine. Are you sure you're all right?” 

“I’m okay,” you said, still feeling the aftertaste of wine deep in your throat. “Excuse me for a moment.” Grabbing your purse, you got up from the table.

“Of course.” John also stood up from his seat, watching you walk away towards the toilets.

You put your bag next to the sink and focused on your reflection in the mirror. Tears, which filled your eyes as a result of choking, smudged your mascara, and the wine – just as you suspected – ruined the foundation on your chin. Yet, you weren't bothered by the poor condition of your makeup. Your thoughts revolved solely around the fact that you just saw Bucky. You would’ve been tempted to treat it as a mere coincidence, if not for him staring directly at you. It was probably his intense gaze that drew you in that direction.

The door opened, and at this point you were ready to see anyone; you wouldn't be surprised if your father decided to come back from the dead and show up here. But it was just Bucky. Again.

“What are you doing here?” You grated, crumpling a used piece of paper towel in your hand, with which you had wiped the remnants of mascara from under your eyes. 

“Are you kidding me? The wine almost came shooting out of your nose, I had to check on you.” His forehead furrowed.

“I’m not talking about the toilet! What are you doing in this restaurant?”

Squinting, Bucky thrust his hands in his pockets, and sized you up. 

“So?” You pressed, the tone of your voice impatient. 

“You really think I'd let you come out here alone?” He finally let out. Your battle ready attitude had eased somewhat, but Bucky was surveying you sternly. “You gave me your permission to protect you, remember? So I’m trying to do that.” 

“But John wanted this meeting to be more... private.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, taking a deep breath. “And nobody found that unusual?” He sneered. “You shouldn't drink that much,” he added after a moment, slightly changing the subject. 

Your brows snapped together. “I drink exactly as much as John.”

“Yeah, except John is three times your size,” he said unmoved. “Look, I'm not stopping you from anything. Drink yourself unconscious if you want. I'm just saying you should be careful around guys like John Walker.”

The urge to ask him to elaborate on the thought crossed your mind, but you didn't really have the time. You didn't want to arouse suspicion by spending too long in the toilet.

“I’ll be careful,” you promised with a sigh. “See you later..?”

Bucky's face softened with surprise, his eyebrows rose slightly. There was no trace of the earlier toughness. “Sure.”

The corners of your mouth turned up with all the tenderness you had for him. You grabbed your purse, then left.

When you returned to your table, John greeted you back with a smile – but it wasn't a smile that melted your heart, or one that caused the butterflies in your stomach to go wild. It wasn't Bucky's smile.

When the black SUV pulled over near the Barnes' mansion, you thanked the driver and dismissed him, assuring that you would be fine if you needed to get home. You left the car, reached for your high heels, which you had taken off immediately after being picked up from your date with John, and closed the door behind you. Having spotted Winnifred right away, you made your way to her. She must have been tending the flowers in front of the house up to now, as you could conclude from her gloves and knees, dirty with soil.

“Y/N, how lovely to see you again.” The warm tone of her voice and the friendly look on her face didn't allow you to even consider that she might be insincere. And although you didn't get to know George Barnes personally, you presumed that Bucky and Josephine inherited their gloomy, ironic, a bit dark and sassy way of being from him. “What brings you here, sweetheart?”

“I came to see Bucky.”

Winnifred grinned even wider. “He is at the back of the house. In the garage,” she said after a brief quietness, which she spent observing you. That's probably why you didn’t move a step. “Oh, your fathers would absolutely love it.”

Smiling tentatively, you gave her a questioning, slightly confused look. “They would..?”

“Our oldest was a boy, your parents’...” She motioned at you. “a girl. So when you and Jamie were younger, your dad and my George used to joke all the time about pairing you two so that everything could stay in the family. But it was just a joke,” Winnifred emphasized. 

Was it, though? Given the world your fathers came from, the environment you and Bucky grew up in, and the situation you were currently in, was it just a joke? Perhaps it was the alcohol talking, but you began to wonder what would have happened if your father was still alive – would he have let you settle down on your own, without Brock or John's presence, or would he have married you to Bucky? 

He wouldn’t. Because Bucky didn’t want to get married. He didn’t want you. 

There was something else bothering you. You already knew that your families were close, yet you had no memories that would prove it. “Why did you stop being friends? If I may ask…”

“It's no mystery,” Winnifred said lightly, smiling. “You know how your mom is,” she began. You guessed that politeness prevented her from saying directly that your mother tended to be paranoid, but regardless of her choice of words, you nodded. “I think she got scared that our husbands would actually turn words into action. She made it clear that she wanted a lawyer, a doctor or an estate agent for you. But it seems that, despite all the odds, you and Jamie found your way to each other anyway.”

You felt your face turning red along with the heat spreading in your stomach. So you weren’t wrong; it was in your blood – the affection you had for Bucky. No wonder you two clicked the moment your eyes met. However, in this situation, it was like a curse. 

“You have a beautiful garden,” you admitted to break the silence and, above all, your own thoughts. In fact, Mrs. Barnes’ garden looked a little bare, incomplete. The flowers were just beginning to bloom.

“It is promising,” she agreed. “But I’m done for the day, it’s getting late. Why don’t you come in? I’ll make us some tea.” 

“Oh, thank you.” You shook your head. “I was supposed to see Bucky, so… I should go.”

“In this case, I’m not keeping you.” Winnifred beamed at you. 

Keeping in mind the place where you expected to find Bucky, you headed to the back of the mansion. Evening dew had collected on the freshly trimmed lawn; not the most pleasant experience to your bare feet, but you preferred it to uncomfortable high heels, which probably wouldn't have handled this soft ground anyway. There was a peace and solitude that was lacking where you lived – there were no cars, no lights of street lamps, no noise of the city.

The garage was not difficult to locate; especially as there were quiet sounds indicating someone's presence. 

Bucky stood in front of a lifted hood of another vintage car. But instead of focusing on the vehicle, your thoughts wandered uncontrollably to Bucky's broad back as he was leaning forward, probably working on the car’s engine. His muscles were clearly visible under the tight fabric of his t-shirt. You felt your mouth watering.

He raised his head slightly, as if listening for something, then looked over his shoulder. He didn't say a word, but returned the favor by fixing his gaze on you – his eyes darkened with the same rawness as when he saw you in your house that night. Beginning from your bare feet and slowly moving up, he scrutinized your whole body, studying the curves of your thighs, hips and breasts. And you couldn’t blame him since your red dress was even tighter than his t-shirt. 

Letting out a shaky breath, you got rid of the excess air churning in your lungs. “So, you like old cars.”

“Yeah,” he admitted, keeping his eyes on you. After a while, however, he focused on the vehicle. “That one belonged to my old man. I don't want it to rot here.”

Based on how Bucky responded to Brock's mention of his father, you presumed that George Barnes was a sore subject. So you were surprised, maybe even a little touched, that he was now bringing it up himself. You did ask him, but he could brush you off or say nothing.

Driven by some subconscious need to be closer, you took a few mindless steps and stood not far from the vehicle. It was colder inside the garage than outside, so you instinctively folded your arms, trying to keep as much of your own warmth as possible.

“What car is that, exactly?” You asked genuinely curious, eyeing the cream body. 

“Chrysler. From 1970.”

“What about your Mustang?”

Bucky squinted suspiciously, smiling. “The Mustang is a year older…” He answered hesitantly. “You’re into cars, too?” 

“Not, but-” You let out a quiet laugh, knowing how you were about to sound. “This era was the sexiest for cars. And it suits you.” 

His eyebrows rose with astonishment. He shook his head, then got back to the uncovered engine. “This was the most twisted compliment I've ever heard.”

“You’re welcome.” You grinned, fluttering your lashes. 

Having checked out your surroundings, you concluded that the inside of the garage wasn’t interesting enough for you to keep your eyes somewhere. So you dropped them to Bucky's hands. Stained with grease, they appeared to be the hands of a professional; they knew exactly what to do. No accidental, hesitant movements.

“How was it?” He asked. You immediately looked up at his face. “With John.”

“I made a pretty good impression on him, I think. He wants to have babies with me,” you said casually.

Stopping everything he was doing, Bucky tensed at your words, a muscle in his jaw twitched. “And you? Do you want to have babies with him?” 

“Looks like a baby-free deal doesn’t exist, so if I have to…” You shrugged. The alcohol in your system kept you from panicking at the very thought. Or was it Bucky's presence that had that effect on you? After all, you felt safe around him, so no prospect seemed so frightening. “Why don't you have a girlfriend? Or a boyfriend?” The question suddenly left your mouth, because since it popped into your head, you decided to satisfy your own curiosity right away. “You are attractive. Very attractive. Protective, maybe too protective…” You squinted. “But people, especially girls, like it. You can be really funny if you want to, you have money and position. And some pretty cool cars.” 

“What’s with all these compliments?” Bucky raised his eyebrows. 

“I get flirty after wine.” You waved your hand dismissively, not intending to continue with this particular topic. “I remember you were, well, a ladies’ man.” You pressed your lips together; you wondered if you should have used that term. It's not that you didn't think it was accurate - you just didn't want to offend Bucky, or upset him.

But he looked at you, smiling with a softness that in no way matched the whole situation. “You remember me?” He repeated. As if it was the most obvious thing, you nodded in response, your forehead furrowed. “I didn’t know you were aware of me.”

“Don't change the subject.”

Bucky sighed heavily, but did not answer straight away. “I liked being around women. Still do. But in a different way. I’ve changed, I guess. Matured, realized a few things. I had a lot of time to think over the last two years.” 

You listened to everything he had just shared and, despite your drunken boldness, you didn't have the courage to bring up his father's death again or to find out more about the lessons he had learned over the mentioned two-year period. You decided to grab onto something else. “In a different way? What do you-”

“That I don’t try to sweep them off their feet, or wrap them around my finger,” he said calmly, but there was something in the way he was talking to you and, for a second, you felt like a scolded child. “I don't hit on them, I don't flirt, I don't try to be charming or funny. If they want to fuck, we fuck. But I'm not looking for an opportunity to take someone to bed.”

Overwhelmed by the information you wanted yourself to hear, you didn't know where to look. “Mhm…” You murmured, trying to appear completely relaxed, maybe even indifferent. On the other hand, you presumed your cheeks that turned pink gave you away. “And you…” You began, partly to talk about something else, partly out of pure curiosity. “Do you remember me? From back then?” 

Bucky loosened up a bit, a smirk crept across his lips. He reached for a piece of cloth slung over his shoulder, and got rid of the grease off his hands by wiping them thoroughly. “Maybe,” he answered, shrugging. It was clear he was teasing you, and you wondered if it was some kind of punishment for bothering him with personal questions. “Watch your fingers,” Bucky warned gently, so you took a step away from the car, then he closed the Chrysler’s hood. “I’ll drive you home, huh?”

When the car finally stopped near the familiar building, you breathed a sigh of relief – you were only a few steps away from a warm shower and a comfy bed.

Before you could touch the handle, Bucky's hand wrapped hastily around your forearm. You turned your gaze to him to see what had come over him, and saw a completely controlled unease painted on his face. 

“You know that car?” 

Having followed his gaze, you spotted a vehicle; you did not recall it belonging to Michael or anyone in the Family. “Not really.”

Bucky reached into the glove compartment above your lap and pulled out a gun. It was only then that you felt a sprouting anxiety; not out of fear for your life, but at the thought that something might happen to Bucky because he'd decided to get you home.

“Come on,” he said, and there was nothing but calmness in his voice. 

You got out of the Mustang and joined Bucky on the other side of the car. 

“Stay behind me, okay?” he instructed, and you didn't protest only because you didn't want to sabotage the possible plan he had formed in his mind. You nodded, and just as he asked you to, you kept two steps behind his back.

You cautiously entered the house, Bucky keeping his gun low but unlocking it earlier, his finger close to the trigger. It was dark inside, except for the warm light pouring out of the living room. It was also where the quiet conversation was coming from; you recognised Michael's voice, and it put you a little bit at ease – you didn't think he was in danger, or that you two were the ones who were threatened. You touched Bucky's arm gently to prevent a potential reaction. 

As you approached the living room, that’s when Bucky really tensed up. Seeing Michael in the company of John Walker wasn't exactly a delight for you either. No one needed to speak; it only took a few glances for the atmosphere to thicken in the blink of an eye.

“Y/N,” Michael’s displeased tone pierced the heavy silence. “What is he doing here?”

“Making sure she gets home safely,” Bucky asserted before you had a chance to think about who Michael actually had in mind. 

“From where?” John interjected; he sounded casual, amused even, but his edgy smile said otherwise. “Should I feel threatened?” His question, thrown around as if playfully, only confirmed your assumption that John was unsure of his position.

“No, of course not,” you protested right away.

Michael could have drilled down. However, you could see that he didn't want to do that – he didn't want to raise doubts about what you were doing with Bucky; to give John a reason to back off. All he cared about was putting an end to the subject as soon as possible and not returning to it – making it seem forgotten at least. “It's time for you to go, I suppose. Is that correct, boy?”

You nearly winced at how patronizing Michael addressed Bucky. It was almost insulting, meant to put Bucky back in his place. He, however, looked composed, but you got to know him well enough to be aware that he would rip Michael's head off if the opportunity arose. 

“Correct,” Bucky agreed. He held his gaze on Michael for a while longer, then, a brief glance was everything he got for you, and it felt cold – like when he left you in that pub. You watched him walk away, but Michael's grunt brought your attention back.

You didn’t stay with Michael and John. Hiding behind a long, tough day and pouring honey in their ears by telling them you didn't want to disturb an obviously important discussion that your feminine mind wouldn't comprehend, you got away. Still, there was something bothering you. So, not long after the desired refreshment and making sure Michael was alone, you went down to the living room.

Michael peeked at you, looking up from his newspaper, waiting patiently for you to raise the matter on which you had come here. 

You sat down in the armchair next to his, and for some reason, nervousness led you to occupy your hands with the belt of a soft, fluffy robe you wore after the shower. “Why was John here?” 

“To speak about business,” he said immediately, still focusing on the paper. 

“Right, let me put that differently…” You sighed, rubbing your forehead. “Why do you think John was here?”

This time Michael did not answer straight away. Nor did he appear to be thinking about the answer; his eyes roamed over the next lines of text. “I believe he wants to control you. Keep an eye on his investment.” He closed and put the newspaper down on the end table between the chairs, then looked straight at you. “Do you want my advice? You'd better let him,” he said. It wasn’t the content of his words that caused your forehead to crease, but the determination with which he said them. “At least two candidates backed out after Bucky beat Brock. Men are afraid to approach you because you got yourself a guard dog.”

At least two candidates, and you had no idea about that. 

“He didn’t beat Brock because of me,” you protested. 

“But he did it. They don't know the details, they don't need them. All they need is that it happened at a meeting that should have ended with marriage. Instead, it ended with Brock Rumlow's broken nose. Of course,” Michael continued. “There were those who were encouraged by it. Who thought it must be a game worth playing. But I turned them down right away, because only a fool would think he stood any chance with Bucky Barnes,” he almost spat. Then, he took a deep breath to release the tension. “He would be a perfect candidate, you know?” 

Although you had lowered your head somewhere during Michael’s monologue, you now raised your eyes to him. Your heart was racing, gaining a familiar, nearly furious rhythm. 

“The friendship of your families, the power and reputation that the name Barnes holds… And it turns out that Bucky Barnes is the only man in New York who doesn't fight for your hand in marriage.” Michael smiled bitterly. 

You looked away to avoid having to face Michael. You crushed under the weight of the awareness that his words had aroused in you. Experiencing far too many emotions at once – you felt angry, sad, disappointed and even a little betrayed – you were hopeless as never before.

“I know that this is difficult,” Michael spoke again. “However, we can't lose John. We can't be sure there will be more better candidates, and even if there will be, we don't have enough time. I don't know what you got yourself into with Bucky, but he can't protect you until he becomes your husband, which he has no desire to do. So whatever is going on between you two has to stop. Now.”

“What does that mean? I can’t see him anymore?” You asked, your voice weak.

“You don’t have to run for the hills each time you accidentally meet him,” he clarified. “But whether you continue to be friends will depend entirely on your husband.”

a/n: feel free to share your thoughts, they are more than welcomed 🥰

taglist: @goldensunflowe-r @nefri-black @vickie5446 @learisa @sjsmith56 @aya-fay @hhiggs @wishingwell-2 @buckysgirl01 @emily-roberts @prettylittlepluviophile @leaaa008

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #mob!bucky #mob!bucky x reader #mob!bucky x y/n #mob bucky #mafia!bucky #mafia!bucky x reader #mafia bucky #bucky x reader #bucky barns fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fic #bucky fanfic #bucky fanfiction #bucky x y/n

[sovereignjojoz]

Crown Prince Dio

Pairings: Prince!Dio x reader.

Summary: being dio’s favourite noble.

Warnings: dio. implied fem reader, slight power imbalance?

Notes - sorry for being gone so long been busy w school! Also I will defs expand on this concept further and make it a big darker in later posts!

Crown Prince Dio, a man of vivality, the sun of the vast empire he ruled over.

In typical Dio fashion, he attained the throne by usurping the previous monarch but despite being the sovereign, he wanted to attain to upmost power available, so till he was coronated the Joestar line were exiled till he was firmly set in his position.

Once coronated, like any monarch, the council had started pressuring him to find a spouse, stressing the important of ensuring the security of the Brando dynasty, however he found all those matters rather tedious…even opting to fall asleep in some of the council meetings, after all, who would dare to disturb the king?

Additionally, he didn’t like to be tethered to one person, shouldn’t everyone be graced with the pleasure to experience all that is prince Dio? Why would he limit himself like that.

So when his loyal advisor, vanilla ice suggested to allow high ranking nobles to stay within the palace (almost like consorts but not fully) and see if there was anyone who piqued his interest, he found himself surprisingly agreeing.

Initially, the Prince had never heard of you. You were low ranking nobility from within the kingdom, with a barely recognisable name, yet what piqued his interest in you was Jojo’s interest in you.

Or more so a large part of the kingdom’s infatuation with you, he had heard rumours circulating of ‘the fairest maiden’ in fact jojo himself even slipped up and said it in his presence.

So how could he not be intrigued.

The fact that the whole kingdom wanted your hand made him desire you solely for himself, he’d sent a letter out requesting your presence at the castle immediately.

It was not a betrothal, he had just been curious, he wanted you to stay with him for a while.

And upon arrival, you did. You didn’t even get your own chambers, your belongings were whisked away from you as you were made to stay in Prince Dio’s chambers, which was a feat no other noble boasted (although part of this was only due to the fact that he wanted to irk Jojo with this news knowing rumours would circulate).

Because you are of a much lower status than him, he orders you to call him Lord Dio, as it gives him a sense of gratification.

But he actually comes to notice that he enjoys your company and you begin to gain a reputation of being “the prince’s favourite noble.”

You even noticed how he treated you differently compared to the others within the palace, gifting you frequently and having outfits tailored to match his.

Or simply being allowed into areas which would normally be restricted and also being invited into his bed chambers the most.

And he was very touchy with you too, you had heard Lord Dio was quite fond of pda, you’d seen him entangled with many other nobles before but becoming the recipient was a whole different thing. He was generous with his kisses, perhaps too generous since he liked to litter them on a variety of different places on your body.

He also carried you in the vast corridor, no matter who was present.

Yet such favour was met with distaste from the other nobles, you found your personal items frequently going missing and was met with the occasional shove or trip every once in a while.

Yet his highness only fuelled these reactions further as he was quite possessive especially in front of the other nobles.

You vividly remember the time when all the seats in the banquet hall were taken up leaving you seatless and as you vacated the room, Lord Dio called you.

“Come here, you have a perfect good seat here.” He gestured to his lap and pulled you down onto it.

He even bit your shoulder, making you squeal. He loved biting but he also liked attention.

Oh dear, you could only but hope this didn’t end badly.

#jjba x reader #jojo x reader #dio brando x reader #dio x reader #dio x y/n #prince!dio #sovereignjojoz

[ramcharantitties]

Yes, Officer

Part-1

S/n: I'm sorry for this week old fic but here's the first part. I didn't know if this was good enough to post but I didn't want to go ia, so. Hope you like it <3

Angel stared out the window, the falling autumn leaves setting hopelessness in her heart. Nothing would help these days, the growing anxiety taking over everything in her mind. She was too young to be this stressed, only in her 20's, yet the weight crushing her shoulders was leaving her crying at odd hours.

"My daughter must be the next to reign the empire of Delhi", her father's words never left her mind, engraved like hot iron on a child's skin. Delhi, the bustling city felt more developed in the last decade than ever. Angel wondered if Delhi was teasing her too, telling her she wasn't apt enough to rule a city. With the oncoming opportunities, came oncoming threats- both to Delhi and her throne.

No matter what she said, this decision was strictly taken by her parent's old advisor- who often acted like your guardian. Dada didn't pester, the stubborn man in his 60's, ready to stab everyone in sight ever since the incident. There were oppositions who believed you were not the correct choice for the throne- but your father knew better. To burden young shoulders for the people than to wait for a messiah, if he comes. She laid back on the chair, sighing. They must be here anytime.

When Angel's dinner was poisoned two days back, her first thought was what her parents must think when she finally died. Would they be proud, or still love her as their daughter, or they wouldn't care, that she was a disappointment? Eventually a servant was passing by, at such ungodly hour, that saved Angel. She was rewarded with a prize money worth 500 Rs. Ever since, Dada made a decision that a trained police officer, from the Indian Imperial Army must serve as your personal bodyguard for the next three months, until the next ruler of Delhi is decided. Angel made protests, proposed questions, and shared information against the decision but everything was futile. She finally slumped down, agreeing.

A whole human, trained, with potential- just to protect you? It seemed insensible. That man could probably save crowds of innocent people, or punish troops of criminal but he would just stand here, making sure if she had enough water or not. Angel held her head in her hands. She was happy in the back of her mind.

Ever since the parental figures disappeared, Angel only faced manipulation and mistrust in her life. It felt like a sin to make friends, to drink freely or enter crowds. And now that the election days are coming closer, she felt trapped in herself. Every single movement was noticed, and most likely followed. A bodyguard didn't sound half bad.

Angel could hear the frequent words of Dada down the hall, followed by another pair of steps. She stood up, quickly, smoothing out her dress. A firm knock on her door echoed. "Angel?" Dada called out, impatiently waiting. She opened the door of the room, moving away to let the guest enter. A man in his brown uniform entered, almost three inches taller than her when she was in heels. He smelt good. Angel stood behind them as Dada explained everything to him. From the back of his head, he looked strong and firm. Angel cocked an eyebrow. After all, why would a trained police officer agree to a job like this?

"Angel?" Dada called out again, his hand reaching where she stood. Angel pranced forward, to face them. If this was her bodyguard, she was in a trouble. His chest buffed out, his eyesight peeking over her. Handlebar moustache and long eyelashes. His upper lip was hidden by the hair, his beard clean shaved. Angel gulped, leaning on the table. She did not expect him to have such an effect on her. Angel, busy staring at the man, missed most of the details Dada dictated to him. She leant closer to him. "A. Ramaraju" she muttered to herself, before going back in her position so they wouldn't notice. Well, nothing misses from his eyes. Her eyes, finally turned to the elder guardian.

"This gentleman is your bodyguard. He's a strict police officer and he will be checking everything, from what you eat and drink, where you go, everything. Once the elections are over, you will have a team of bodyguards anyways. But he should be enough for now". Soon, Dada left, and the police officer made himself comfortable in front of her table.

"I don't expect you to be so formal with me" Angel looked at him up and down. "I am solely here for my job, ma'am" Ramaraju's voice had a dusky yet chocolaty tone. It was heavy, but not harsh. "Please introduce yourself" Angel sat her hip on the edge of the table. "Alluri Ramaraju, police officer in India-" "I know that" Angel interrupted the man. His gaze still hasn't lowered down to her, but he could see the diary in her hands. "You have, single handedly, caught a wanted person in a riot with almost the population of a town. And you injured many others. And this is the only most recent news of you, I can skip through various others" Angel peered up at him. "Are you going to tell me why you are really here?" "It has nothing to do with this job" Ramaraju's posture didn't budge. The stoic man, still as a statue.

Angel sighed, getting up. "I don't need a bodyguard" she stepped forward, taking a closer look at him. He smelt really, good. "You must talk to the-" "I don't need to talk to anyone" Angel said, trying to match his eye level. He wouldn't. "You're going to submit a report tomorrow that says how you don't want this duty and want to be back in the field. Is that clear?" Ram didn't answer, neither move. He stared straight ahead, unbothered. Angel took that as an acceptance, might as well be a surprise. "You may leave now" Angel went back to her work, sitting on the table, as Ram turned around and marched out of the room. That was the last of him she saw that day.

____________________________

Tagging: @ramayantika @yehsahihai @vijayasena @raat-baaki @nerdreader @panikk-attackkk @jkdaddy01

#ghungru #ram charan #rrr #rrr movie #desi tag #fanfic #ram x reader #ram x wife!reader #rambheem #rrr tarak charan #yes officer

[thevelria]

Pull the trigger (SFW/hitman!Gojo x mafia!leader!fem!reader)

Author's note: I've been working on this story for weeks lol I really enjoyed writing it, reader is completely different this time. She's cold and ruthless but don't worry, they get their happy end (kinda lol)

And also I did a collab with my lovely friend @randompurr again. Please give her some love, she did an amazing job <3 

DO NOT copy or repost her art without giving credit! Comments and likes are much appreciated.

And thank you to my lovely @ladycheesington for proofreading <3

Warnings: MNDI/ 18+ ONLY!/ injuries, blood, violence, torture. Mention of guns and illegal business. It's a mafia AU after all Wordcount: 5.1K

“Such a shame to kill someone so beautiful.” he thought and for a brief second he hesitated. For the first time in his life Satoru was unable to pull the trigger. In a blink of an eye you were out of his sight. His pupils grew wide and his breath became uneven, because he knew he fucked up. 

“Shit.” he clenched his jaw as he was still staring through the lens of his high tech weapon at the spot you stood just a second ago. 

***

A big yawn and an even bigger stretch helped you get out of the bed in the morning. You knew it was going to be a busy day. Some business meetings then a party where your business partner invited you. So actually it was a must. 

It’s been a few years now that you had to get in charge as the head of the family. Your father passed away and his last wish was you to protect the empire at all costs. He raised you well, if raising a girl as a ruthless yakuza could mean “well”. Skilled, smart, sneaky were just bits of your personality. 

Did you want this role? Sure. Would you have any other choice if you thought otherwise? Of course not.  

For some reason old memories rushed your mind while you were getting ready in the bathroom. Taking a hot shower, standing under the water was supposed to make you feel relaxed. But instead you frowned as an unwanted scene from your past flashed in front of your eyes. 

“Do it! And prove your worth!” you heard your father’s harsh voice. 

“I don’t want to…” you argued with shaky hands. 

“Do you think I wanted it when I was at your age? No! Did my father care about my feelings? Also no! Because our feelings don’t matter. The only thing we need to focus on is to keep the business together, protect the empire at all costs. Never forget that! And now pull the fucking trigger.” he shouted. 

You closed your eyes and obeyed. It was the first time you killed someone. With time it became easier but you were unable to forget the first one. You were only a child for fuck’s sake. 

Your turquoise silk robe hung on the hook and waited for you to put it on after you dried yourself with a huge fluffy towel. As you stared in the mirror you noticed how tired your eyes looked. Circles and massive bags showed you would have needed some more rest or some less stressful life in general. But there was nothing that makeup couldn’t hide. Getting ready was one of your favorite parts of the day. 

Business meetings meant casual makeup and conservative hairstyles. Messing with your bun you chose some gem covered hair pins to fix it. Your typical velvet lipstick finished the look before you walked to your wardrobe to choose an outfit. An outfit that showed you were a powerful and dangerous business woman. 

A black long sleeved turtle neck blouse with also black tight pants were the best choice. You spiced the outfit with heels, a long snow white coat and a pair of leather gloves. A slight smirk appeared on your face as you took a quick glance in the mirror before you left the room. 

Yuuta was ready to escort you as always when you headed to a meeting. During the years you implemented some changes in the family, you rewrote some old rules and replaced them with new ones. One of them was to change the ranking process. Before, members under the age of 30 couldn’t guard the boss. Your father believed young people weren’t able to handle certain situations. Yuuta on the other hand proved his worth more than once, plus you trusted him. So he was the perfect choice. He appreciated your faith in him and did his best to protect you no matter what. Even if the boy was in his twenties he was already a skilled fighter, great in martial arts and even better with his katana. 

You loved the terrified look on people’s faces when they noticed your guard with a huge sword on his back. Of course he was armed with guns as well but no one needed to know about that. 

“Good morning, boss.” he greeted you with a slight bow. “The car is ready and waiting for you.”

You nodded and a tiny smile showed him you were satisfied. Yuuta weren’t only your guard but your personal chauffeur as well. 

On the way to the meeting you felt like someone was watching you. 

“Are you okay?” Yuuta looked into your eyes through the rearview mirror.

“I can’t explain it.” you cleared your throat. “I have a bad feeling about today, so please pay attention. This family is nasty as fuck.”

“You have my word, I will protect you.” he frowned as he focused on the road again. “And if they try anything I will kill them all.”

***

“Why do you want me to kill her?” Gojo grabbed the folder from the table. His client stood in front of him in his office. The man looked determined, hatred flashed in his eyes. 

“I need that family to be wiped out as soon as possible. Starting with the useless boss is the best.” he snorted. 

“Hmm…” Satoru laid back in his chair, chewing on his inner cheek, seemingly hesitating. He was staring at your picture that was attached to the folder. Your beautiful face, mesmerizing eyes, oh and your silky looking hair distracted him for a second. 

“So? What do you say?” The man was getting more and more impatient. “I pay as much as you want. Money doesn’t matter.”

Gojo clicked his tongue as he stood up and threw the folder on his desk.

“Deal!” he slammed his palm into his client’s, shaking hands to make it official. 

Even if he accepted the request he had a weird feeling about it. Something bugged him but he had no idea what or why. 

The next few weeks he spent examining your life. He tried his best to get every useful information about you, about your daily routine and about your family. Once he realized how loyal and faithful your men were, he knew it wasn’t going to be a piece of cake to eliminate you. 

“Okkotsu Yuuta.” he hummed as he made some notes. “This fucker will cause me big trouble, if I’m not careful enough. That katana looks worrying. And on top of that he’s like a lap dog, he’s always around her. So pitiful.” he rolled his eyes. “Who’s next?” he frowned. “Nanami Kento. The consigliere of the family. He seems smooth but he’s a freaking butcher when it’s needed. I definitely have to pay attention to him, otherwise he will cut me into pieces. I know how far he’s willing to go…” he clicked his tongue. 

Satoru kept going on and on with his notes and list about you and the family. He was the best hitman in the area if not in the whole country. His hitting rate was 100% successful, no mistakes, no missed chances. When he accepted a job he was determined to get it done. This was one of the reasons that made him the best. 

But the second he laid his eyes on you he knew he needed to be careful. Not because he wasn’t good enough to kill you, no. But because you seemed that kind of woman who looked sweet and beautiful on the outside and probably was a dangerous, cruel mistress on the inside. 

***

Yuuta opened the car door for you as he pulled off in front of the building. In front of the 65 floor high skyscraper in the heart of downtown, which wore the name of the owner right above the entrance. Enormous letters signaled the importance of the word Zen’in.  

You were wary of the family. Bunch of fuckers as you mentioned them, whenever a conversation involved these people. The way they treated some of their members made you feel sick. For you family was the most important thing. Something that needed to be protected and saved above everything else. For the Zen’ins money and power came first. 

As you stepped out of the car you kept fighting the weird feeling. The feeling that you were watched. For a brief second you turned around and looked at the top of the building on the other side of the road. Nothing. You saw nothing. Maybe a tiny little reflection but it was so meaningless that you didn’t care at all. 

“Boss?” Yuuta’s husky voice snapped you back to reality. “You okay? We should head inside.” The boy stood next to the car, frowning. He was always so ready to step in, to get into action. His senses were always aware of everything. And no one could blame him for not seeing a skilled hitman hiding at the top of a building as high as the sky. 

“Yeah, sure.” you cleared your throat and turned to the entrance. 

The inside of the building looked stunning, rich, luxurious. It represented everything the Zen’ins wanted to show to the world. They wanted people to see them as a higher form of living. As they would be worth more than the average. Obviously it was bullshit and all this circus made you laugh and gag at the same time. 

“Oh, stop this Naoya.” you rolled your eyes. “I thought we were here for serious business but all I hear is “but” and “if”. I don’t have time for this.”

You felt as if he tried to buy some time and actually you were right. The current head of the Zen’in clan tried his best to keep you in the office. He was terrified because you shouldn’t have arrived at all. If everything went according to the plan you would have laid on the ground in front of the building with a bullet in your pretty head. Instead you were pulling faces, rolling your eyes and calling this whole meeting useless. 

After you left the building Naoya became furious. “What the fuck happened?” he yelled through the phone right into Gojo’s ear.

“Stop yelling.” his cold voice sent shivers through his client's body.

“Answer my fucking question! I thought you were the best.” he hummed.

“The job will be done. Stop bothering me unless you want me to change my target.” he clicked his tongue as he ended the call. 

***

“I don’t know, Yuuta.” you frowned. “Am I paranoid or was this meeting off? I mean, I know he is a fucking jerk but…” 

“Something was definitely off.” he nodded slightly as he opened the car door for you. “Maybe you should cancel the party tonight.”

“I can’t.” you sighed frustrated. “I have unfinished business with Kashimo Hajime. I owe that bastard a dance.” 

“Boss…” Yuuta rolled his eyes. 

“What?” you acted innocent. “We made a bet and he won. You do know how important it is to stay true to your word, right? I can’t let rumors spread that I’m a liar.”

“I know, I know.” he waved. “I’ll be aware of every source of danger, just please don’t make it harder than it should be.”

“Seriously?” you hummed a laugh, while you raised one of your eyebrows. “Let’s head to the hair salon, please.”

You spent the day enjoying the luxurious pleasures that rich business women could afford. After the hair salon you stopped to get your nails done. A little bit of shopping and having lunch with Yuuta in a fancy restaurant were the most enjoyable part of the day. You loved spending time with him since he never complained. Okay, it was part of his job but somehow it seemed he enjoyed your presence just as much. He wasn’t only your first Lieutenant, he was your friend. 

In the late evening you stepped out from your room in all your glory. You wanted a dress that showed enough but still stayed elegant. A classic black dress you chose with long sleeves and deep cleavage. A thin silver belt hugged your waist. The bottom of the long dress just brushed the floor, while your right thigh was shown through the slit on the side.  

Besides the dress you wanted your hair to look perfect as well. So you made a messy but lovely looking low bun and spiced your outfit with a pair of tiny diamond earrings. The velvet lipstick was a must. 

When it was about a party or a public appearance in general four or five of your men escorted you. Just in case. Yuuta and Nanami were waiting for you in the hall. The way Yuuta’s eyes widened the second he noticed you walking down the stairs made you smile. 

Kento cleared his throat that snapped him back to reality. “Be professional.” Nanami whispered to the young boy. “And know your place. She is the boss!” 

***

The parking lot was way too crowded in front of the breathtakingly beautiful building. Long stairs guided the guests up to the entrance. As you took a few steps forward someone bumped into you. A young girl with dark green hair and a pair of very fashionable glasses grabbed both of your shoulders. She leaned in quickly and whispered. “Be cautious! Gojo Satoru wants to kill you.” And with that she was already gone. 

Yuuta appeared next to you in a heartbeat, he was furious about being too late to prevent the incident.

“Boss!” he placed his hand on your forearm. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? What did she want?”

“She said…” you stared into the nothingness, still in shock.

“What?” he frowned. “What did she say?”

“She said Gojo Satoru wants to kill me.”

“What the fuck? Okay, get in the car. Right now! We need to take you to the safe house and…”

“No!” you raised your hand which made Yuuta quiet immediately. “Kento, please come here.” you turned to your consigliere.

“Yes, boss.” he stepped next to you in an instant.

“Do you know the name Gojo Satoru?” you looked him in the eyes. 

“He is one of the most successful hitmen, boss. If he is after you, we should take this seriously. That man never misses his target.” 

“I’m not gonna let that bastard ruin my night. So it will be your job to be ready to act, understood? I have a plan. Because I’m sure he will try to approach me. You wait for my sign and we’ll capture him. I need to know who hired him.”

“Boss, with all due respect…” Yuuta gulped hard.

“No!” you shot a deadly stare at him. “Do as I say and know your place!” you took a deep, irritated breath before you turned around and headed to the stairs.

***

The inside of the building looked even more mesmerizing. Huge crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, marble floor sparkled under your feet. Everything seemed fancy and expensive, extremely expensive. You hated these kinds of parties from the bottom of your heart. Even if you were loaded you never liked bragging about it. And yet this party was all about it. Every guest, every person in this room was disgustingly rich. 

A few steps you took and eyed the place to find some familiar faces. A friendly voice called you from behind that made you smile. 

“Kashimo, are you already here?” you turned around to greet him.

“Darling.” he smirked and hugged you immediately. “I was afraid you wouldn’t show up. You know…” he blinked “Because of our little bet.”

“Oh, c’mon…” you laughed out loud. “This time you won and I’m true to my words no matter what.”

The night started to get heated, more and more crowded. You had a nice dinner and kept enjoying Kashimo’s presence. Cocktails after cocktails disappeared down your throats but you were aware of the danger.

“So…” Kashimo stood up from the table and reached out his hand for you to take “Can I have this dance, milady?” he kissed the back of your hand as you accepted his offer. 

“With pleasure.” you nodded slightly. 

Kashimo Hajime was an attractive bastard, there was no need to deny this fact. His tall figure, toned body and handsome face stole the hearts of the women across the country. Tonight he wore his semi long, bluish white hair down with a messy bun. The suit he chose followed his body perfectly. His dark blue button up shirt showed all his muscles, if you checked him well enough you could spot his abs, too. The black pants fitted his figure and followed his round bum. All in all he looked hot as hell. But you would have never admitted that. There was no way on Earth for you to boost his ego even more. 

The slow song echoed through the marble room and lured several couples to the dance floor. He softly took your hands and guided them around his neck, while his own hands found their way to your waist. 

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” he cooed.

“It’s been worse.” you teased.

It was just a game between you two. Teasing was your thing. Maybe you were attracted to him, maybe not. Maybe he was attracted to you, maybe not. But one thing was sure, you both loved this cat and mouse game way too much. 

As the dance went on you felt the same weird feeling as in the morning. The feeling of someone watching you. 

“What’s wrong?” Kashimo frowned “You don’t enjoy this nice dance with me?”

“I do.” you admitted without even realizing it “But I have a weird feeling. I think someone is watching me.”

“Oh, you mean the crystal white haired guy in the corner?” he smirked. “He hasn't taken his eyes off you since you walked in. I think he’s a fan of you, darling.”

You rolled your eyes and hugged him just a tiny bit tighter. 

“Be ready…” he whispered in your ear “He’s heading here.” Kashimo thought he did you a favor when he waved to the unknown man behind your back, inviting him closer. He had no idea the man was here to end your life. 

The second he stepped next to you, Kashimo released your waist. “I think you paid the price of losing our bet, darling.” he took a step back and winked at you, before disappearing in the crowd. 

“May I have this dance?” the tall man reached out his hand to you.

“Who am I about to share this dance with?” you looked skeptical.

“My name is Gojo Satoru.” he stepped a bit closer. You grabbed his hand and tried your best not to show any sign of nervousness. Playing it cool was your only goal. You had to get the name of his client no matter what. 

“What a lovely name.” you smiled softly as you placed one of your palms on his shoulder. Gojo was taller than Kashimo and in a wicked, twisted way he looked more attractive. The snow white hair, his handsome face and those undeniably beautiful blues made you weak. 

It seemed your hitman had taste in dressing up. The ebony suit with silver white button up shirt and matching tie made him look unbelievably eye-catching. But you were aware, you knew what he came here for and you weren’t about to give him what he wanted. 

The slow melody filled the dance floor and for a brief second you felt a spark. A spark between him and you. Satoru stared deep in your eyes and you saw…regret?! In that short second you played with the thought of what if you met in other circumstances. What if he wouldn’t be here to kill you, what if you could give yourself completely into this dance. It sounded so ridiculously insane that you almost chuckled, but you felt somehow safe in his embrace. 

The second Gojo pulled you into him and hugged you tight you let out a soft moan. It felt good, it felt nice, it felt natural. You threw your hands around his neck while you kept dancing. To the rhythm of the song your body moved in sync. You rested your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. 

“I wish this was real.” you whispered. But he heard you and pulled you back a bit just to look into your eyes. Even if he kept silent his eyes showed more than enough. 

“May I?” he leaned in, closer and closer, inch by inch. Did you want him to kiss you? Oh, yes! Did you let him do it? Well…

His lips were so close to yours that you felt his hot breath on your skin. In that exact moment you raised your hand behind his back and snapped your fingers twice. Yuuta, Nanami and the rest of your men appeared around you in a blink of an eye.

“Let’s not make a scene.” Yuuta growled as he pressed a gun against Gojo’s lower back in a way that no one even noticed. 

“Such a nice act it was, darling. I almost believed we had a moment.” he kept staring into your eyes. 

“Take him.” you sounded ice cold. 

Yuuta walked him out of the building and stopped next to their car.

“Put this on…” he threw a sack to Satoru.

“Is this really necessary?” he clicked his tongue. Yuuta didn’t answer him, stepped a bit closer and punched him in the gut as hard as he could. 

It surprised him, he didn’t think this young boy had the balls to actually hit him. 

On the way to the base millions of thoughts ran through Gojo’s head. He was mad at himself. “This woman…this woman made me vulnerable.” he clenched his jaw. Even if he knew it wasn’t professional, he couldn’t help his feelings. Now that he shared that dance with you, now that he felt your body close to his, now that he almost kissed you he knew what he had to do. “I’m gonna make her mine, no matter what.” he smirked under the cloth. 

But there was one thing he wasn’t aware of. You weren’t as easy to get as he believed. 

***

After your men escorted Gojo into The room Yuuta walked back to you into the living room.

“Boss…” he took a deep frustrated breath “Please let me handle this fucker. I will get the information you need, I swear.” hatred flashed in his eyes.

“Take Nanami with you.” you poked your inner cheek with your tongue. “But you cannot kill him, understood?” 

The boy’s eyes widened when he heard your order. Something was off and he felt it. Normally you were the first one who stepped into the room and beat the shit out of anyone who tried to harm you. Never before have you shown any kind of mercy. Every single time you were the one who pulled the trigger. But this time it seemed different. On your way back to the base you declared that you weren’t going to join them.

***

Nanami walked next to Yuuta but when they reached the door the boy stopped Kento.

“I will handle this on my own.” he said with a serious tone in his voice.

“Stop this bullshit, kid.” the tall blond rolled his eyes “No one needs you to be a hero. Especially not her.”

“Fuck you, Nanami.” Yuuta clenched his jaw “I’m going in alone and I will get from that piece of shit what she needs. But I don’t need you to be there and stop me…”

“She said we cannot kill him, remember?”

“Mistakes can happen.” he shrugged as he slowly opened the door and stepped in. 

Gojo was sitting on a chair in a completely empty room with his hands tied behind his back.  The second he heard the door moving he knew it was going to hurt. And he was right. 

Kento was waiting outside but he heard everything. Every punch, every hit, every hiss. He knew this hitman was a tough one but he also knew that Yuuta would go as far as possible to get the information for you. You were his world even if you didn’t see him like that. 

“Talk, you filthy shit.” Yutta punched Gojo in the face for the umpteenth time.

“Sorry, boy.” Satoru smiled with blood covered teeth “I told you I won’t say anything to you. I’m only willing to talk to her.” 

“Bullshit.” he spat on the ground. 

“Hey!” Gojo yelled out of the blue “I know you hear me Nanami! Please tell her I’m going to tell everything but only to her. ”

Yuuta froze in his action. “How do you know him?”

“I’m sorry boy but it’s none of your business.” 

Kento clicked his tongue before he headed to get you. He wanted this to end. 

“Boss.” he stood in front of you “He is willing to tell everything but only to you. Maybe…”

“Fine.” you rolled your eyes and got up faster than you expected. You didn’t understand your reaction either. 

***

“She would never play your game.” Yuuta pulled an annoyed face. Gojo stayed silent and smirked, because he knew. At least he hoped you felt the same tension between you too. The door shot open and there you were, standing in front of him with the coldest look in your eyes.

“Boss…” Yuuta turned to face you. He saw as you raised your hand to hush him, so he bit back everything he wanted to tell you. 

“Leave us alone.” you kept staring at Satoru who looked way too beaten up. 

“But…” Yuuta tried his luck again.

“Enough!” you yelled and looked him in the eye. “Who do you think you are talking to? I said leave. Now!”

He realized what he did and felt really ashamed. Talking back to the boss was very disrespectful and unacceptable. He knew what his punishment was going to be and he couldn’t do anything but accept it. Deeply he bowed in front of you and walked out of the room. 

“You have 2 minutes to tell me what I want to know.” you said the second you heard the door closed behind you. “Otherwise I let Yuuta in and I won’t hold him back anymore. You know…he really wants to kill you.” you clicked your tongue. 

“I assume Nanami talked about me.” Gojo tried to sit straight even if he was in real pain. This boy beat him up pretty well. “And so you know I could have killed you if I really wanted to.”

“Oh, how generous.” you rolled your eyes. “Name…give me the name of the fucker who hired you.” your ice cold tone sent shivers down his body. He knew it was crazy but he found you way too attractive. The power, the raw cruelty in your eyes made him want you even more.

“Look, I'll tell you the name with one condition. We finish the dance which was interrupted so aggressively.” he tried to smile through his blood covered face.

“You think this is some kind of joke?” you got mad in an instant and stepped right in front of him. “One minute left.” you looked down on him.

Even if you were aware of a lot of things you missed the fact that Gojo was trying to free his tied hands behind his back. During your lovely chit chat he was able to get rid of the rope. As you looked down at him, he slowly looked up right into your eyes. He didn’t say anything but slowly stood up. The way he towered above you made your eyes widen for a second. You really didn’t expect him to break free. Several thoughts rushed through your mind and you realized you made a huge mistake. You let your emotions get in the way and you underestimated your enemy. 

You took a step back but he grabbed your waist gently. 

“Please.” he growled. “Just let me hold you for a second. I can’t explain it and it drives me crazy but look…” he pulled you close to him. “I could never hurt you. Never! ” 

Unbearable tension was throbbing in the air. For a brief second you eased your body and melted into his touch. Satoru felt the difference right away. 

“The Zen’ins” he whispered as he leaned in. “They wanted to get rid of you.” 

You bit your lower lip, you were hesitating. Did you want him to kiss you? Oh, yes. Did you understand why? Not at all. But did you let him…?

His pink lips got closer and closer to yours, just like back at the party. You felt his breath on your skin when suddenly his eyes widened and he froze in his action. The cold steel of the gun, pressed against his tummy, stopped him immediately. 

(colored version is on Wattpad)

“Did you really think that I would let you kiss me?” you caressed his cheek and smiled softly. 

“I thought we had a moment.” he hummed a laugh. For the first time in his life he let his guard down and now he knew he was about to pay the price. 

“You know I have to do it…” you closed your eyes and pulled the trigger. 

Gojo collapsed on the ground and watched you walk out of the room. Barely heard some mumbling between you and someone else. Then everything was black. Pitch black.

“Get rid of him.” you turned to Yuuta “But make sure he stays alive. Understood?” 

The boy gulped hard and nodded obediently. 

***

6 months later:

There was a party where you were invited. A fancy, rich, luxurious party as always. That you hated oh so much. Shining in all glory, you looked more beautiful than ever. Killing time at the bar, while cocktails after cocktails slid down your throat, you heard a familiar voice.

“Looking beautiful tonight, darling.” Gojo sat down on a barstool next to you. 

“I’m glad you’re fine.” you hummed a laugh.

“Are you? Because it seemed you thought otherwise a few months ago.” he teased.

You kept silent, finishing another drink. 

“I was thinking…” Satoru sighed. He's never done anything like this before. 

“About what?”

“About working for you. If you’d accept me of course.” he smiled awkwardly and scratched the back of his neck.

“Hmm…” you pursed your lips. “You’re skilled, I know that. I think I could use those skills…”

“But?” he raised one of his eyebrows. “There’s always a ‘but’.”

“I’m gonna test your loyalty and your will to take orders.” 

“What if I fail?” he smirked.

“Well, then this time I won't miss your heart when I pull the trigger.” you winked.

#satoru gojo #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo x reader #gojo #fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen #jjk satoru #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #hitman gojo #mafia #mafia au #mafia gojo #mafia fanfic #mafia fiction #jjk fanart #jjk #jjk imagines #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk art #okkotsu yuuta #jjk yuuta #yuuta okkotsu #jjk nanami #nanami kento #jujutsu nanami #kento nanami #randompurrs fanart drawings🌸

[ari-burr]

I would like to request general headcanons of 2p England, I really enjoyed the recent 2p America one.

~ you got it! hope you enjoy ♡

characters: oliver, allen, matthieu, arthur

summary: 2p england is best england.

Oliver Kirkland 🧁 Gen. Headcanons

Oliver is considered to be the nicer of the 2ps—he's cooperative and leans more towards peaceful resolutions whilst retaining a cheerful disposition! The reasons behind his sweet smiles come from a deeply-rooted principle of ‘the golden rule'.

He chooses to abide by this principle, not because of fear of others, but because, out of most of the 2ps, Oliver is more excitable to violence. If he wanted to, he could hurt everyone around him in the worst of ways.

In his Empire days, he was known to be one of the more violent nations; however, during modern times, Oliver likes to stray away from what he once was. Even if he's significantly tamer than he was in the past, he still holds a slight temper but doesn’t show it off as much as his counterpart. 

Oliver’s relationship with his 1p is a bit strained due to conflicting personalities and interests. While he tries his best to reach a compromise with his counterpart, it usually just ends with Arthur being grumpier than before.

Oliver’s hobbies include reading, knitting, brewing tea, and baking. The latter grew fond of these muses because all of them are soothing by nature. He's the type to stress over things easily, so doing things like baking helps manage his emotions whilst reducing the chances of going into another psychotic episode.

If and when he goes into a psychotic episode, Allen [and sometimes Matthieu] would be tasked to deal with him. During these episodes, Oliver’s violent tendencies would resurface. Having been raised by the Brit, Allen knew how to properly deal with him without hurting him or himself. 

There was one time Oliver’s psychotic episodes were becoming too frequent which forced him to become isolated longer than he’d fancied. He's a social person by nature, and being separated from others was mental torture even if he knew it was the only thing that kept people safe from him.

But even with his struggles, he owns a small bake shop and surprisingly manages the business quite well. But the process of owning a small [yet successful] business along with handling the duties of being a personification is easier said than done.

It took a lot of convincing and compensation for his boss to finally give in but Oliver was happy nonetheless. He reasoned that by opening a bakery, he’d be able to blend in more with the crowd, indulge more time in his hobbies, and ultimately calm his nerves to prevent any lingering stress. 

The way Oliver interacts with his citizens strongly contrasts with how he speaks to fellow countries. When talking to other nations, Oliver tends to be more formal while keeping up his zestful attitude. But if he were to engage in small talk with his customers, he’ll add a little bit more honey to his words. 

It’s known by literally everyone that Oliver has a soft spot for kids. To him, kids are a pleasant reminder of a time when he took care of Allen and Matthieu when they were small. Even now, Oliver still views them as such but doesn’t voice it as he knows it’ll most likely offend them. 

He believes that children are a bit smarter than adults in many ways. The reason is: they're the only ones who can sense that he [and other personifications] aren’t exactly human.

#by ari-burr #hetalia #hws 2p hetalia #hws hetalia #aph hetalia #oliver kirkland #2p hetalia #2p hetalia headcanons #2p hetalia england #2p england #2p britain #arthur kirkland #scenarios #personality headcanons #2p america #allen f. jones #mathieu williams #comfort #general headcanons #2p hetalia general headcanons #sorry for being inactive school's been a bitch

[bespectacledbun]

more Obsidian!Yves nonsense that I cooked from the brainworms I've shared with my friends in dms before (⚠️ SPOILERS FOR GIL'S MAIN ROUTE IN JP!! ⚠️):

yves who loses his nanny and is told that he has to leave rhodolite to go back to his mother's family. yves who arrives in obsidian alone, scared, and unable to speak the language because he grew up only speaking in rhodolitian and not his mother tongue obsidianite

yves who meets his grandfather and he seems nice, but he's very strict and has a bunch of rules that he has to follow all the time. yves who quickly learns to stifle his cries until he's alone and makes sure to never show weakness in front of his grandfather

yves who doesn't really trust his cousins, except for gil. the rest of them always try to get him to trust him by talking badly about the rest of the family to him, but gil is nice. gil gives him sweets and takes him into town and even showed him a photo of his mother and aunt when they were young, but he gets sick so yves can't see him often :(

yves who quickly learns his uncle is terrifying and definitely not to be trusted. yves who keeps his head down, keeps his mouth shut, keeps to himself and avoids interacting with the emperor at all costs. if gil doesn't like the emperor, then neither does he, he decides

yves who is barely 10 when one cousin dies of bad food and the other in a "riding accident" and he learns how truly brutal obsidian can be. yves who is told it's a mistake the castle cooks and stablehands made, but late at night he hears his grandfather talking about a poisoning and tampered saddles. yves who sneaks around to hear the maids whisper how all the workers at the royal residence were slaughtered and their bodies put on display outside the gates

yves who notices his grandfather gets increasingly stressed over the years. yves who starts helping with with for the kloss household more and more, until he ends up taking over the duties entirely while his grandfather does.... god knows what. yves who manipulates the household business to suit gil's needs instead of the emperor's after gil confides in him that the emperor was the one who murdered his mother and older brother in cold blood

yves who is there right alongside gilbert when his oldest cousin mocks gil to his face about his mother's death, who says her and their brother were too weak and deserved to die as they did. yves who turns away as gil stabs him through the heart in rage and then helps hide the body later. yves who joins gilbert's plans for a coup d'état cleanse the empire of all its corrupt nobles

yves who is 16 when he learns of his grandfather's plans to eliminate gilbert on the emperor's orders, who skewers lord kloss before he can even try to hurt gil, who watches from behind as gilbert finally kills the emperor and throws the body off a cliff

yves who helps find and eliminate all those who are still loyal to the bloodthirsty politics of the previous emperor so that gil can achieve his goals of cleaning the country faster

yves who finds and brings roderich into the court, so that when if gil dies he can replace him and yves won't have to. yves who refuses to let gil die after everything he's done because he doesn't want to be left all alone again

yves goes to the border on gilbert's orders, who finds an injured little boy unconscious under a collapsed building and brings him back, so that even if he's too far gone to be saved he can at least get a proper burial along with all the other civilians who died in the war

yves who finds out this unconscious little boy could possibly be his half brother, who looks at his scrapes and injuries and wonders what kind of hellish family would have left him to die on the battlefield like that

yves who spends months nursing and training the boy–– luke, as he will later learn–– and teaches him how to fend for himself before gil sends him back to rhodolite

yves who spends years growing the power and influence of house kloss in order to support gil, until one day he is summoned to the palace for no discernible reason. yves who is told by his cousin that his father has died, and that in a month the court of rhodolite will send ambassadors asking for his return for the selection process

yves who spends that month reading up on the history of the belle system and scoffs at the sheer naivety of it, because what would a commoner know about the dangers of the royal court? how much could they possibly learn in a month that would equal the experience of a lifetime in danger?

yves who is told by gil that he is to be prince, liaison, and spy all at once, that luke and another prince in the rhodolite court will help him while he is there. yves who practices his rhodolitian again after years, so that he doesn't need that airheaded translator assigned to the diplomatic party. yves who introduces himself in stilted, but fluent rhodolitian to the group of strangely dressed men that greet him in the throne room, the men that are supposedly his brothers

yves who gauges all of the princes one by one, wondering which might be the prince gilbert mentioned that would help him. yves who's eyes barely flicker when they see luke, because they aren't supposed to know each other at all

yves who is both surprised and suspicious when Leon reaches out first and invites him to dinner, who shows up not expected to be welcomed with a feast in the domestic faction's office. yves who keeps his guard up, not wondering if this is some sort of ploy to get him to spill his secrets, but by the end of the party realizing leon is just that trusting of him (he can't tell if his older brother is stupid or kind-hearted)

yves who is already used to the stares and contempt that townsfolk and nobles give him so it just slides off his back like water. yves who is surprised when jin and licht both step up to defend him from a particularly loose-lipped noble that was barraging him earlier

yves who sees leon and jin and licht and clavis having fun together, who can't help but feel a kernel of resentment sprout when he sees them truly happy with each other. yves who remembers his cousins before they died, who recalls those years of just him and gilbert working alone because it was them against the world

yves who has completely settled in by the time he is allowed into the round table room, where he meets the commoner that will apparently decide the fate of the kingdom. belle. yves who learns her name is emma, and that she's apparently one of the townsfolk and works as a local bookstore's employee.

yves who remembers gil's orders–– 'you must be chosen as the king for our plan to work'–– and meets her bright eyed gaze, innocent gaze. this will be way too easy

#ikepri #yves kloss #obsidian yves au #louise cheering in dms when I made yves stab grandpa kloss was so fucking funny actually #the way i had to triple check gil’s route and family lore for this tho omfg #boi yo family is FUCKED UP #as a suitor i absolutely despise him but damn is his route rich in plot and character lore #also im remembering i made like a character design for how his yves would differ from rhodolite yves and it was so sexy #yves and gil with matching piercings. okay? okay #they like a lil bit of body candy on em dont talk to me okay #obsidian yves my deranged feral meow meow. i can give him trauma he dont even know about

[biinaberry]

Messed up Jimmy lore! Messed up Jimmy lore! Messed up Jimmy lore! Messed up Jimmy lore! Messed up Jimmy lore! Messed up Jimmy lore! Messed up Jimmy lore! Messed up Jimmy lore! Messed up Jimmy lore! Messed up Jimmy lore! Messed up Jimmy lore! Messed up Jimmy lore! Messed up Jimmy lore! Messed up Jimmy lore!

My backstory deals with the theme of loss and guilt which spans 3 generations of the Solidarity family tree. As such below I provide a family tree to help illustrate.

Warning: massacres, skinning and blood This story is really long as well

The Solidarity family was the head of Tumble town for a few decades by this point. The oldest daughter of the Sheriff, Rosemary, was newly crowned the Sheriff of Tumble Town after experiencing her metamorphosis and turning into a Rosy Boa.

A few months after this happened a bandit by the name of Harbinger enters Tumble Town and starts to reek havoc often in the form of stealing from the locals or opening animal pens. Eventually Rosemary catches him behind the town's bank and realizes its her childhood friend Jebediah. She makes a deal that if he cuts out his tomfoolery she'll make him her deputy and he of course agrees (mainly due to an old crush he had on her mixed with being legally able to cause mischief).

The relations between Tumble town and Stratos is just as shit as they are during Jimmy's era. With a long history of the two taking pot shots at each other in some form of trying to prove one is better than the other. During a meeting between Stratos and Tumble Town, Joel tries to tease and make fun of Rosemary. However, she just shrugs and continues on with the meetings, being a surprise to his father (Zephyr) and Joel since previously all the other Sheriffs were hot tempered. Rosemary has 4 siblings so the constant stress of her siblings gives her a little more patience than the rest of her family. But she still has just as wild of a temper when she does reach her limits. With the new Sheriff having the remarkable ability of patience it allows a neutral sort of relationship between the two empires but Zephyr still can't stand the town. He has more experience with the past sheriffs than Joel who only experienced Rosemary's father and herself. Joel and Rosemary then form a business relationship where the two will try their best to be formal, but never encroach into the friends category. They do still harbor major resentment towards each other's empires and are fully willing to defend their own empire with their entire being. At the same time the relationship between Jebediah and Rosemary starts to grow as the two of them fall back into their old dynamic when they were kids. With Rosemary being the one to often follow the rules while Jebediah is fully willing to cause pranks and mischief if it means he gets what he wants. During his time training under Rosemary he started to notice the lack of respect other empires had for the Sheriff. Often muttering under their breath how the don't trust the words of a snake to hold the truth. Or bringing into question the statements she makes during meetings. Rosemary then asks Jebediah if he can do the trade deals since she noticed how trusting the other emperors were when talking to him instead, and he agrees. Still furious over the lack of respect for his friend (and then girlfriend at the time) he would sabotage other empires and make them unable to fulfill their quota for a trade and thus, they owe the town some more for compensation. He almost got caught a few times but he'll keep doing it after surprising Rosemary the first time they got more supplies in a shipment. However she soon figures out what Jebediah is doing and tells him to stop, except for the Goblands because she can't stand their emperor. Eventually the two have a simple wedding in tumble town as Joel not so sneakily drops off 2 barrels of wine for the newly weds and Rosemary just drags him to one of the farther areas of the wedding so the three of them can have a friendly conversation. They thank him for the drinks and Rosemary especially doing a fake second toast to the fact the two empires aren't trying to kill eachother. Joel just shakes his head before Jebediah dares to see if he can drink the whole barrel and Rosemary nearly strangles him. Later down the line Joel and Rosemary almost agree to forming an alliance between Stratos and Tumble Town. Joel sadly returns saying the alliance was denied by his father since he still doesn't trust tumble town and Rosemary concedes. She does suggest that once he becomes emperor then nothing should be able to stop them. A few months pass before Joel returns again, now 11 ft tall and hulking over everything as the town nearly scream. Rosemary comes rushing out and her jaw hits the floor before asking if he needs a shrinking potion and to please not crush her to death by accident. Joel laugh, sits down before picking Rosemary up to say his metamorphosis finally happened and Rosemary cheers. Rushing back inside to slowly drag out Jebediah who hurt his feet by wearing too small shoes and complains about it. The three of them have a mini celebration of Joel's metamorphosis. Joel questions why she is trying to throw a party and she says "Whether ally or enemy everyone should be excited for the chance of progress! Even if it you who could pioneer it" with a snide remark as Joel flicks her shoulder and the three start to drink the storage of wine and chocolate cake. 

Joel returns again in a few months and confides in Rosemary that he's angry over the fact that Zephyr hasn't given him the title of emperor yet. Rosemary tells him to take a dip in the ocean south of here, count how many types of fish he saw then return to her. He does and when he grumbles back why she told him to do that she said "I had to take your mind off of your father by giving you a new task. Works on Jebediah when he starts to get fed up with other emperors. Now go home and simply just ask your father why you aren't given the crown yet. More often than not there is an actual reason" and Joel groans but concedes and flies back home. She then receives a letter stating his father doesn't believe it would be safe to thrust all of Stratos onto Joel so he'll start giving him small increments to control before eventually he can balance managing all of Stratos. And Rosemary smugly sends back "Told ya idiot." A year or 2 passes before Joel returns to Tumble town without the prospects of trade and asks for Rosemary again. She is happy to see him again before questioning if he already ran out of gunpowder before he whispers if there is any place they can talk alone. Rosemary stops for a sec before saying "yes, come into my house" as Joel shrinks down and enters the premises. Joel vents to her again that he once again swears his father doesn't trust him because he's running all of stratos now for Months yet still he wont give him the title of king. Rosemary scowls and questions why he hell he isn't while Joel immediately responds with "That's what Im asking!". After some time Joel bids farewell to Rosemary before almost walking into Jebediah who is carrying 2 kids. The two stare at eachother before Joel mutters "Are those the gremlins you mentioned in your letter?" and Jebediah just nods before asking if Joel wants to hold one. "So which one is Finch and which is Jacob?" "The black haired one is Jacob, the brown haired is Finch." "Thank me they aren't identically imagine calling both of them the wrong name their entire life" "Want to bet you'll misname them? "Absolutely" before they part ways again. When Joel returns again he instead is faced with Jebediah, stating that Rosemary is currently out on a deal trade. Joel says he's about to leave then but before taking off Jebediah questions "He doesnt trust you" Joel backtakes and turns around. "What?". "What if he simply doesn't see you as worthy. That in his eyes no matter what you do, you aren't worth it. What then Joel?" Joel takes a breath before flying away but the doubt already enters. Over time as he keeps returning to tumble town he keeps running into Jebediah instead, and over time his anger towards his father starts to grow until Jebediah simply states "why not take it." And that forms a plan.

Joel gives Jebediah an artifact from stratos, an old lasso, that allows any god to be yanked from the islands. See in stratos there is a magical barrier that protects the gods from being attacked by mortals. This has prevented wars in the past since only the humans down below would be killed. The lasso bypasses this barrier and they plan for Jebediah to lasso joel's father and drag him to tumble town, and he does

Jebediah nails Zephyr to a stake in the middle of the desert and then waits a few days before telling joel he did the job. Joel comes down, tries to break the ropes and realizes he cant. The lasso can only be loosened by the one who used it and flies to tumble town to try and find jebediah but he is missing. Rosemary is also missing from the town. Every day he returns to the stake site, trying to free his father but nothing works.

While in a meeting Joel suddenly is able to feel the electricity in the clouds and realizes something is deeply wrong. Since every successor god gains the ability to control lighting from the prior emperor. He flies to the mesa and sees Jebediah standing next to his father but as he gets closer he realizes that he is carving out chunks of his skin, using them as parchment. "They say the words of god are stronger than any mortal sword, I wonder if their body is just as useful as their voice"

Joel enraged, tries to grab Jebediah but he evades his grasp and suddenly disappears. He then storms into tumble town and yells for Rosemary for which she immediately turns up worried over why Joel sounds so angry and confronts her. He demands to know if she knew anything about Jebediah's plans and she of course says no. Joel is about to believe her until he connects that how else would jebediah know about his plight if he specifically only confided in rosemary. Connecting in his brain that she had to have told jebediah about his worrie he growls that he doesnt believe her. Rosemary slithers back confused, repeatedly saying that she has no clue what he is talking about, what did jebediah do? what happened? Before trying to run inside of her house as joel grabs the back of her tail. Asks her one more time and as she says no he crushes her head

Jebediah returns thinking he escaped Joel.

And sees the corpse of his wife instead. He tries to attack joel but he just grabs his body and starts to drag him into the tumble town mines before landing by a lava pit. He chains jebediah up, grabbing a bucket of lava, and forcing jebediah to drink it. His insides burn as his skin turns into charcoal and obsidian and his organs a burning soup of lava and mush. He dies as still as a statue and Joel returns home. Unable to handle the fact that his father is permanently dead and eventually realizes he did the exact same thing. Finch and Jacob were then raised by his aunts and uncles before Finch experiences a metamorphosis and becomes the next Sheriff. Tumble Town is still grieving the loss of Jebediah and Rosemary and as the feelings of sadness and anger compound on eachother, the town plans to do their own form of revenge at the god. The town, spearheaded by Finch confront the god and as the god looks down at the very conflict he caused, he dissociates and acts upon his instincts. When he finally focuses back on reality the battle field is covered in the corpses of Tumble Town's people. He is standing in the middle of the town and it is completely demolished. No one remains, no one survived, a massacre that lasted the span of a week. The god flees. A newly formed ghost town waves him goodbye.

The blood of the massacre spread all across the land. Every grain of sand, every crevice was touched by the iron of its people. Eventually pooling into the once plentiful mines, dripping into the cavern that held the deputy. As the blood poured in and coated his feet the statue came to life. A new god was formed. Created from the loss of thousands and the inability to defend themselves, The Law was formed. The very many who could be credited as the one who started it all.

Stratos's followers often question why Death was never the emperor of Stratos. Why the god alive for millions of years never stepped up to the plate, but she simply smiled under her veil and mutters she never likes to take an active role. But when she felt satiated for the 10th time of her existence, a mighty 3 days before it returned, she had to investigate. She lands in the ruins of Tumble town and listens to the songs the ghost sung, of their loss, of failure, and grief that there is no story to tell. But she latches on to the voice of the leader, the man who wanted justice for his parents but got none. She revives him, stitching his body back together in a crude imitation of a human, flesh made from hundreds of dead, some animal some player and asks him for his name. "Finch Solidarity"

"Well little Harbinger, how do you feel knowing you failed in all regards as a Sheriff?"

She was infatuated immediately. Death soon studied the newly revived Sheriff until the two formed the most bizarre of relationships before a child was born. His name was Jimmy Solidarity, the last child of the original Tumble Town. He was raised in the ruins of his father's home with a body close to a skeleton than a human, more resembling his mother except for his curly baby hair. His father worried for his child, that any child of tumble town would be killed immediately but Death stopped him and said there is nothing to worry about. Her son cannot be killed, not in that way. He is the son of unjust death and thus, he will cause his own tragedy. So they make him a new body created from the old trees raised in the desert. Glossed and varnished before they place the casing around the child and seal it closed. The child opened his eyes and the father's eyes widen as the once wooden appearing skin now softened, appearing almost plush or fleshy if it weren't for the wood grain. His mother gave the child a special hat, a new sheriff's hat to bind him to morality, a code to which will hold back his bloodthirsty nature. While the father worked on trying to bring residents back to tumble town.

Eventually the father rotted away, his hodgepodge body parts and skin patches unable to handle the heat of the mesa. His wife made his death quick and merciful as she took care of their child. Before she too eventually went away, leaving only one photo behind. A family photo taken when Jimmy was 1 yr old as the new citizens of tumble town took care of the child. It wasn't until Jimmy was older than he realized what he lost. Beyond just his parents, his culture was taken as well. Tumble town survived off of folk lore and oral storytelling, and as his father passed away so too did those stories vanished. Clothing and architecture kept sparse to the historical moments in the libraries across the empire. The only aspect truly documented is their history with wars, even if they are one sided, and never contained the tragedy that was committed in a week. So when a new plush toy hits the market, baring the new Sheriffs face, you have to ask. When did tragedy become commodity.

#solidaritygaming #jimmy solidarity #empires s2 #empires smp #son of death au #wrote this 3 hours straight #yall better like this

[ruthlesslistener]

If you're alright with answering what is the difference between a conquerer and a coloniser? Or is your issue more based in the fact that people call PK a coloniser to remove guilt from the radiance rather than the term itself? Not trying to be smarmy here, I genuinely don't get the difference between the terms, is it just a difference of settlers?

Yep, there's a lot of difference! A conquerer is someone who takes over a territory that wasn't originally theirs, whereas a colonizer is a foreign power that sends groups of people to settle in a foreign territory to establish control over it. They're both terrible, but the means of control is very different; when a foreign power conquers another state, the populace largely remains the same, but the style of life/rule may change, or conquered peoples may have to pay a tax to the state that conquered them. Historically, it could vary between the conquered peoples having no change in life at all to them being placed under a tyrant regime that they despised, which makes it vary in how horrid it is (but it's still bad. Cannot stress enough how bad it is!!). The Pale King falls under this title because both him and his wife ruled over the beetles, which were native to Hallownest, but they did not displace any native species; there was merely a change in religion and (presumably) a way of life.

Additionally, we canonically know that the Moth Tribe allying themselves with the Pale Gods was what allowed him to displace the Radiance, though I hesitate to place any blame on them at all because the Pale King has a notorious trend of speaking half-truths to get bugs to stay under his thrall, which means that they very likely did not understand what they were getting into at the time. However, the main point remains clear: the arrival of the Pale King did not displace any of the native tribes from their homes, even though it caused a vast variety of other problems. We also do not have any canonical proof that the Pale King had any hand in the actual downfall of their numbers, either, which makes sense because getting rid of them = getting rid of a significant chunk of the worshiping resources that he needs as a god. He likely still fucked them up terribly, but that's another post to be made entirely. The point is, he is a conquerer.

Colonization, on the other hand, directly involves the displacement of native peoples or species in order for the invading forces to exploit their resources. This is where the concept of settlers comes in, and it is always verified to be a brutal, awful business, because the end goal of it is to wipe out all the native peoples and species and to remake the earth into either Kingdom 2.0, or a mining spot for resources to enrich the empire back home. To colonize an area requires either the genocide of the previous inhabitants or the forced assimilation into the culture of the settling group, as well as the destruction of native habitat and any other landmarks that are important or sacred to the native peoples of that region. The land is destroyed and remade to the settler's desires, or it is drained dry of resources to be sent back to the motherland. The whole point of colonies is to brute-force their way into new territories in order to bolster the strength of the ancestral land, which does not come in the form of the natives sending tithes and taxes, but comes from direct seizure of the land. Both the people in power and the individuals of the original nation are involved in the colonization effort, with the settlers often being brainwashed by propaganda into believing what they are doing is 'righteous' and that either enslaving or murdering the natives is 'doing god's work'. There's typically a religious or eugenics perspective applied to this as well: the native tribes are seen as 'less civilized' than the settlers, and so it is the settler's god-given duty to subdue and 'civilize' them, usually by either enslaving them or by forcefully assimilating them into settler families and culture. It's evil. It's fucking evil.

As for my issues with the Pale King being called a colonizer: I primarily hate it because it both removes guilt from the Radiance and places blame on the beetle tribe, but a not-so-insignificant portion of it is because I fucking love history, and seeing it used as a buzzword for problematic characters makes me want to scream. There is almost no greater evil in the world than colonization (well, apart from capitalism), both from the social and the ecological perspective. Because it is evil. There is no nuance to it. And there are still people to this day who suffer from the effects of it, and still get abused by the nations responsible for it, so not only is this something that should NOT be used flippantly and VERY MUCH SHOULD NOT be used as a buzzword just because you hate a fictional character, writing a story where a colonizing force is being challenged should always view the native group as the ones in the right. Because they are. They're being shoved out of their homes and killed and having their culture destroyed because some greedy fuck and their braindead populace with a superiority streak saw them as less than human. There is no fucking way that you can take any sort of rebellion against that evil and claim it was wrong without allying yourself with the colonizing force. I'm normally all for nuance, but here, there is none.

So when you claim that either the Pale King or the Radiance is a colonizer*- which they canonically aren't- you are inherently setting the other up as the victim. And because you're doing that, you're automatically setting them up as the group whose actions are justified, because if you condemn it, you fall into very, very dangerous territory. And given how fucking horrifying the Radiance's actions were? How she's the main antagonist of the story, how she's shown to be directly responsible for mass indoctrination and genocide, how she forced herself into the minds of the other native tribes that were separate from her conflict with the Pale King and made them preach about giving in to her light and then killing them afterwards because they were only tools to her? There's no fucking way. There's no fucking way that you can make that comparison. Equating the horrors that she did in her selfish rampage for power and revenge to the actions of people desperate to get their homes back is fucking horrifying. She killed millions of people and tortured many more so that she could have complete dominion over a kingdom that wasn't her own, and forced her control on unrelated parties to boot. There's no fucking way that you can place any of her actions in good faith outside of maybe 'her infecting everyone was her scrambling to come back from the brink of death', but even that doesn't account for the infection of the Mosskin, the forced preaching from the Moss Prophet (someone who belongs to Unn!!), the ruin she made of Deepnest, and the pacts she made with the mantises. She's just as bad as PK, and she's just as much of a selfish, power-hungry control freak as he is. The only difference is that she's more openly violent while he was outstandingly neglectful, and that's not even getting into the whole possibility that she was the one who caused the downfall of the original Void Civilization that founded Hallownest.

(Also Bardoon's dialogue on the infection seems to imply that she mind-controlled the bugs in the kingdom in the past which is a whole other can of worms. But since I don't think that the Pale King's 'free mind' shtick was any better for various other reasons, I'm not going to go there)

And NOT ONLY THAT, because colonziation requires the effort of the populace, you're also laying the blame on the tribes correlated to both of those gods- tribes that both suffered immensely from their strife and had nothing to do with any of the crimes that they committed. The Seer may bitterly remark on the foolishness of her ancestors, but there's no way that they would have been able to understand the full consequences of their actions. That's something that the foresight-having God of Mind would have known, and is a guilt that she or her people have absolutely no reason to carry. The Beetle Tribe certainly existed pre-Hallownest and likely lived in the caverns that made the Forgotten Crossroads and the City of Tears before the Pale King arrived; there's fossilized remains of them everywhere, and Lemm has dialogue on the bugs of Hallownest worshipping the Void even before the Old Light came along. Not only that, but they were not a militaristic race, and all of the evidence of their architecture in the territories of the other tribes seem to be there for trade or transport, as the bulk of their territory is composed of the Forgotten Crossroads (very literally a trading hub), and the City of Tears (where they actually lived). Additionally, they canonically had very little contact with their ruler because he was a fucking recluse, so they weren't exactly following his orders to take over areas that weren't theirs. Hell, they didn't even know the truth of the Infection because their coward-king wouldn't tell them the cause of it; both the beetles and the moths were innocent, as well as all of the other tribes that got swept into the conflict and destroyed, and that is the core tragedy of the game's main story. These were not settlers. These were innocents. And them helping the Knight on their journey- who was a victim of both the Pale King and the Radiance-is significant because of that very reason. They all were innocent.

So long story short, yes there's a difference, yes people misusing or pretending otherwise seriously bothers me, and yes I have a very good reason to be extremely concerned about those misinterpretations and the spread of them outside of technical accuracy, thank you very much.

(*I can argue that the Radiance was not a colonizer despite most likely having a claw in the Void Civilization's downfall because her territory appears to have been in the Crystal Peaks/Resting Grounds, as evidenced by her strong affinity with the refractive crystals, the pink and gold hues, the iron gates wrought in her image in the Resting Grounds, and the fact that the Grounds themselves have a purple hue to them, a midtone between the pinks of Crystal Peak and the blues of the underground caverns. So even if she destroyed the original civilization-likely because void magics pose a direct lethal threat to her- she did not settle in their territory. The White Lady is hard to tell, but given that her roots are massive around Kingdom's Edge/the place where the White Palace was built, it's very likely that she sprouted and grew in Hallownest. And the Pale King is for sure not a colonizer, because we know with 100% certainty that he came from over the Wastelands, shed his form, and became ruler of the Beetle Tribe with the help of the Moths; he had no worshipers from where he previously was. Likewise, he married the White Lady and shared territory with her, so no actual displacing of native tribes or gods occurred, it's just that he and Radi had an absolute shitfit over who got to be in control over those two populations.)

#Hollow Knight #the Radiance #the pale king #the white lady #hollow knight lore #hollow knight meta #pale king #white lady #anon #reply #YES i am tagging all this shit #NO you cannot stop me #its fucking important okay i cannot overstate this enough #this whole thing is a shitfit and pretending otherwise has VERY FUCKING CONCERNING AND DEEPLY RACIST IMPLICATIONS

[officalroyalsofpierreland]

A New Adventure

Private Tarmac, Edinburgh, Scotland

???: Madame Hortense, Welcome to Scotland Your Imperial Highness. I hope your plane journey was pleasant

Hortense: Thank you...Who are you and where is the Duke?

???: I am Lord Callen MacDonald. His Royal Highness apologizes for not being here. The King's Council meeting was running a little long. He asked me to escort you to Holyrood. Hortense: Very well Lord Callen.

King's Office, Holyrood Palace, Scotland

Prime Minister(in the floral dress): Your Majesty, what are you going to do about the impending visit of the French Emperor's sister? King Alexander: Due to the...hubub that the Duke has caused, the official narrative is that Madame Hortense will be staying in the nation as the private guest of myself and the queen. We will not comment on any activities Her Imperial Highness and Oliver will get up to...right Oliver? Oliver: We will remain discreet. She will however be my date to the a charity ball for the Children's Hospital and the Paratroopers Ball, both later in her stay. King Alexander: You heard the Duke. We will also increase security at the request of the French Security Office. Now...I believe time is up Prime Minster: Sir...I have a few more items...for your attention only King Alexander: Very Well, Oliver is dismissed. Oliver: Thank you Papa.

[Oliver runs through the palace]

Callen: The palace was actually inspired by some French and Pierrelander Palaces...clearly not to the standard of both empires- Hortense: I do like the interior...it feels more quaint...it seemingly exudes the kindness that the Duke has told me about. Oliver: HORTENSE! Hortense: Oliver?

Oliver: How was your flight? Has Callen behaved himself? Are you alright? Does Louis hate me now? Hortense: Shhh, Mon Prince...The flight was fine. Lord Callen has been a gentleman. I am feeling much better and I do not think Louis hates you...just disappointed.

Oliver: I'm so sorry...I promise, this trip will have no hiccups and no scandals...you will be able to relax Hortense: Thank you Oliver Oliver: I have missed you. Hortense: And I, you.

King Alexander: Ahh, Madame Hortense! Welcome to Holyrood Palace and Scotland! Apologies for keeping Oliver from greeting you at the tarmac...his recent incidents required him to have an extra tongue lashing from the Prime Minister Oliver [groaning]: Papa

Hortense: It is quite alright Your Majesty. I'm sure everyone will put the incident behind them soon. Alexander: They will...soon something will take the public's fancy. I believe you and Oliver will be going to the country for most of your vist, which I must say, I'm a bit jealous [chuckling] Sadly the Queen and I have a couple more engagements and business before we will join you both in the area. But with that, I hope your stay is refreshing and relaxing Your Imperial Highness. Those like us need a break from...the stress of things ruling every once and a while. Hortense: Thank you Your Majesty. @empiredesimparte

#officialroyalsofpierreland #story #sim: oliver #sim: hortense #continuous collab #empiredesimparte

[justforbooks]

Silvio Berlusconi, who has died aged 86, dominated the public life of his country in a way no Italian had done since the fascist dictator Benito Mussolini. He was the Republic’s longest-serving prime minister. But whereas he was brilliant at winning and holding power, the use he made of it was disastrous. The “Berlusconi decade” – he held power for eight of the years between 2001 and 2011 – will be remembered as a period in which the Italian economy virtually stood still.

Berlusconi’s influence extended far beyond politics and the economy. It can be argued that he gathered to himself more power than was ever wielded by one individual in a western democracy. At the height of his career he was Italy’s richest man, and there was almost no area of Italian life untouched by his influence. His business empire encompassed property and insurance, debt financing and retail interests. He was the chairman of his country’s league-topping football side.

But, above all, he and the members of his immediate family held sway over a media empire whose potential for influence on public opinion had no parallel in Europe. It included three of Italy’s four commercial networks, two large publishing houses, two national newspapers, the country’s largest film production and distribution firm, and 50 periodicals, including one of Italy’s two main weekly news magazines. Since the state-owned RAI’s three TV channels were also answerable to Berlusconi in his role as prime minister, he directly or indirectly influenced 90% of everything that was watched on television in a country where TV enjoyed disproportionate influence because so few people read its newspapers.

The importance Berlusconi attached to images was characteristic of a society that has invariably placed great stress on appearance. Always immaculately dressed, he sported a tan as unchanging as his smile. But, as he aged, it became increasingly difficult for him to project the image he sought, and in 2004 he invited widespread ridicule outside Italy by having first a facelift and then a hair transplant.

Berlusconi’s career can be seen as one long exercise in getting around obstacles that, in a society less tolerant of rule-breaking, would have stopped him long before he reached government. He constructed a national commercial television network in a country where the possibility had been considered illegal. He entered politics despite a breathtaking assortment of conflicting interests. He survived repeated attempts to have him put in jail for offences including the bribing of judges. He was found guilty on several occasions. Some of his convictions were overturned on appeal. But in the remaining cases, he was saved from the consequences of his dishonesty by a statute of limitations.

In a way that was reminiscent of Margaret Thatcher, he cut across class barriers to construct an ample majority for the right. But, unlike his fellow conservative, he was never fully a politician. Indeed, his admirers credited him with pioneering a form of “anti-politics”. Certainly Berlusconi could be rash, tactless and, on occasions, outrageous. In a period of less than two months in 2003, he compared a German MEP with a concentration camp guard, said Italian judges were “mentally disturbed” and appeared to defend Mussolini’s fascist regime. But, in several respects, he was a product of the established political order he appeared to be challenging.

His success was made possible by patronage from one of its most corrupt politicians, Bettino Craxi. He may also have benefited greatly from his membership of the secretive and conspiratorial P2 Masonic lodge. Berlusconi always claimed that his greatest achievement was to save Italy from communism at the 1994 elections. And Italian capitalism was indeed in deep crisis then. The collapse of the Christian Democrats and the socialists left business people without politicians who could oil the wheels of government for them. Of no one was this truer than Berlusconi, whose patron, Craxi, had fled the country.

The only sizeable movement left more or less unscathed by the scandals ravaging the old order was the Party of the Democratic Left (PDS), which had ditched Marxism after the fall of the Berlin Wall. When he “came on to the pitch” (the archetypal example of his astute application of sporting terms to political life), Berlusconi joined a side with almost no players. Yet within just a few months his team had won, and its “captain” had accomplished at least two remarkable feats. One was to show for the first time that a politician with money and a firm grip on the mass media could win power without a traditional party rooted in an ideology. Berlusconi’s own party, Forza Italia (“Come on Italy”) was created by his advertising agency, Publitalia.

His other accomplishment was to mould a “new right” from the ruins of the postwar system. Apart from Forza Italia, it included Umberto Bossi’s regionalist Northern League and Gianfranco Fini’s MSI which, for the sake of political respectability, reinvented itself as a “post-fascist” National Alliance. Berlusconi’s coalition later took in the more conservative of the remaining Christian Democrats.

The man who for the best part of 20 years was the undisputed leader of the Italian right was born in a Milan suburb, the son of Luigi Berlusconi, a bank clerk, and his wife, Rosella (nee Bossi, though not related to Umberto). He provided early evidence of a talent for making money by ghostwriting essays for his fellow secondary school students. He went on to study law at university and paid for his tuition by selling vacuum cleaners, photographing social events and running a band that played on summer cruise ships. Berlusconi was the vocalist. He was particularly fond of Neapolitan love songs and later in life engaged a restaurant guitarist-singer from Naples to play for him and his guests. He and his resident minstrel made several CDs together.

After graduating in 1961, Berlusconi went straight into business, borrowing the money he needed to set up his first company, Edilnord, from the bank where his father worked. It was not long before he was engaged in a huge project, the development of Milano 2, a complex on the eastern outskirts of his home city that included 4,000 flats, a hotel and offices.

One of the enduring mysteries of Berlusconi’s career is how a young and largely untested property developer was able to get together the capital he needed. He himself refused to say. His adversaries suggested it came from the mafia. His supporters hinted that it was the undeclared savings of rich Milanese who would have otherwise stashed it in Swiss banks.

The roots of Berlusconi’s media empire lay in Milano 2 and a cable television station he set up for its residents, Telemilano. Dodging a law that allowed only the RAI to broadcast nationally, Berlusconi wove a network of local stations that simultaneously broadcast the same programmes. By 1984, when his friend Craxi sanctioned the ruse by decree, Berlusconi’s Fininvest holding company owned three channels: Canale 5, Italia 1 and Rete 4. Two years later, he became chairman of Milan football club and under his indulgent stewardship it once again became one of the most triumphant sides in Europe. He sold the club in 2017 and took over Monza in 2018.

Berlusconi’s first experience of politics was less successful. His 1994 government collapsed before the year was out. Its efforts to curb the powers of the prosecutors who were harrying him provoked a national and international outcry. His attempts to reform the pension system prompted a national strike. And his coalition was beset by internal disagreement. After the prime minister was notified that Fininvest was under investigation for bribing tax officials – while he was hosting an international conference on organised crime – Bossi and his MPs defected to the opposition.

There were times over the next seven years in which it seemed highly likely that Berlusconi would never return to high office. But in 2001 he stormed back in a campaign won, not with a manifesto, but a contract and a biography. On a TV chat show, he flamboyantly signed a “contract with the Italian people” that listed his campaign pledges. As he did so, a skilfully crafted account of his life entitled An Italian Story was being delivered, at Berlusconi’s personal expense, to every household in the land.

His second stint as prime minister was the longest of any Italian politician since the second world war (though, because of a reshuffle in 2005, it technically comprised two governments). After decades of short-lived administrations, Berlusconi’s 2001-06 government marked a unique opportunity to relaunch a country whose economy was already stalling. Instead, he used it largely to deal with issues of personal concern.

Laws were passed that obstructed trans-European investigations (such as one launched into Berlusconi’s Spanish dealings), prevented Rete 4 being moved to satellite, undermined the independence of the prosecution service and provided Berlusconi himself with immunity from prosecution (though that one was overturned by the constitutional court). Pension and labour market reforms were enacted. But the government shied away from the other structural reforms Italy’s ailing economy so obviously needed. Towards the end of its life, moreover, it began to lose its grip on the public accounts.

Mounting concern over Berlusconi’s management of the economy and the public finances coincided with growing divisions in his governing majority. The conservative Christian Democrats became increasingly fractious. An election was due the following year, and as it became clear that the right had little chance of hanging on to power, Berlusconi embarked on a project that – more than any other – betrayed his contempt for the nation he claimed to love. He rammed through parliament an electoral law that tipped the odds in favour of the right and, at the same time, ensured the left would have difficulty in governing if it won.

This breathtakingly cynical legislation made it possible for the winning party to have a majority in the lower house, but not in the upper. There, the odds were in favour of parties, such as the Northern League, whose support was regionally concentrated. Even the politician who drafted it called it a porcata (a “load of rubbish”, but also a “dirty trick”).

The 2005 act did away with first-past-the-post rules that had given Italy both a relatively stable, two-party (or rather, two-alliance) system and single-member constituencies whose parliamentary representatives had an interest in responding to the concerns of their voters. Unsurprisingly, the new law opened a gulf between the electors and the elected that helps explain the revolt against traditional politics, and mainstream politicians, later spearheaded by the comedian Beppe Grillo and his Five Star Movement. However, the immediate effect of the new electoral rules was slight. If the centre-left returned to power with only a two-seat majority in the Senate, it had less to do with the unfairness of the law than with Berlusconi’s genius for campaigning.

Throughout his career, he demonstrated an uncanny ability to monopolise the nation’s attention, often using shock tactics for the purpose. He opened the 2006 campaign by comparing himself to Jesus, and closed it by saying he could not believe the left would win because there were not “that many dickheads around”. In the event, he lost by barely 40,000 votes. And in one of the many ways in which Berlusconi prefigured Donald Trump, he refused to acknowledge defeat. It took almost a month to get him to resign.

The coalition under Romano Prodi that replaced Berlusconi’s government was probably doomed to be short-lived. And its members did not help by squabbling incessantly. But among the causes of its demise two years later was the defection of a senator who in 2013 told prosecutors Berlusconi had paid him €3m to do so.

To the renewed astonishment of Italy’s European partners, Berlusconi coasted to victory in the 2008 election.

More than ever before, foreigners asked how Italians could possibly elect as their leader – not once, not twice, but three times – a man widely viewed outside Italy as a buffoon, or worse. His media power and financial resources certainly accounted for a large part of the answer. But they were never the whole of it. Italians have always loved a winner and he was the embodiment of self-made success. He had a 70-room mansion outside Milan, a villa on the Costa Smeralda, a palazzo in Rome and about 20 other homes. In 1990, he had married the actor Veronica Lario (nee Miriam Bartolini), as his second wife. By the time of their wedding, they had already had a son and two daughters. He had also fathered a son and daughter by his first wife, Carla dall’Oglio, from whom he was divorced in 1985.

Berlusconi’s successful career appeared to offer Italians the hope that, with enough effort and intelligence, they too could escape the rigid curbs imposed on them by their society to have it all. His supporters also liked the way his gags and gaffes marked him out from the normal run of career politicians. But then he was a populist of genius. He was the first modern Italian politician to speak to voters in the language of the streets. Never one to shrink from oversimplifying an issue, he also knew how to push the emotional buttons that would get a response from his compatriots.

He was particularly adept at depicting politics in terms of the family. A scholarly analysis of his speeches concluded he adopted the role of the mamma: endlessly complaining about the sacrifices he made on behalf of his “children”, the electorate, to justify a possessive claim on their loyalty and affection in the form of votes. Perhaps most decisive, though, was Berlusconi’s shameless readiness to appeal to the voters’ basest, most anti-social instincts. His “dickheads” remark was one of many in which Berlusconi sent a coded message to Italians that, if they put him into office, he would not tax them too heavily and would take an indulgent approach to evasion. After 2008, however, the state of Italy’s public accounts, and the obligations imposed on it by membership of the euro, forced him to be more responsible. Nor was that the only promising thing about his fourth government.

Berlusconi had always claimed he had been prevented from carrying out a liberal revolution in Italy because of the obstruction of his allies, particularly the conservative Christian Democrats. But they had split from him in 2006, and the following year Berlusconi embarked on a campaign to forge a united Italian right. In the end, he succeeded only in merging his own party with the National Alliance. But the resulting movement, which he called the Freedom People (PdL), was the nearest thing modern Italy had seen to a mass conservative movement.

By the time of its inaugural congress in March 2009 even some of his most unyielding critics were admitting that he seemed to have learned something from the failure of his earlier governments. Some of his ministers were attempting genuine reforms: imposing changes on Italy’s sclerotic civil service and its hidebound, gerontocratic university system. Then, entirely because of Berlusconi, it all went horribly wrong.

It had long been clear that his marriage was in trouble. As far back as 2002, he had astonished a press conference by commenting on the good looks of his guest, the then Danish prime minister, Anders Fogh Rasmussen, and suggesting he might be of interest to Lario.

In 2007, she demanded a public apology after he openly flirted with Mara Carfagna, a former showgirl and glamour model who had been elected to parliament for his party. He gave the apology, but the following year in a move that left feminists open-mouthed he made Carfagna equal opportunities minister. The scandal over her appointment was to pale into insignificance, however, in comparison with what was to come. One theory was that it had to do with the death of Berlusconi’s beloved mother, Rosa, in 2008. She, it was said, had held him back from some of his greater follies and without her restraining influence he lost all sense of proportion and discretion.

The first sign of trouble came, once again, from Lario when she denounced as “shamelessly tacky” a scheme to put up a bevy of showgirls as PdL candidates for the European parliament. Days later, she announced through leaks to the press that she was seeking a divorce and accused her husband of “consorting with minors”. Her accusation brought to light Berlusconi’s never fully explained relationship with a Neapolitan teenager, Noemi Letizia. From then on, it was one sex scandal after another as the public learned of goings-on in the prime minister’s homes reminiscent of the later Roman empire.

First, there were claims that he had used his official plane to fly young women to his estate on the Costa Smeralda. Then came evidence of sex workers mingling with actresses and dancers at dinner parties in his Roman home (one even recorded her pillow talk with the prime minister, which was then put on the internet). But nothing was to be as damaging for Berlusconi as the investigation – and subsequent trial – centring on his relationship with a young Moroccan runaway, Karima el-Mahroug, who was 17 at the time she attended so-called “bunga bunga” parties at his mansion near Milan.

The sex scandals coincided with an accumulation of political and economic storm clouds. Impatient with Berlusconi’s undemocratic management of the PdL, his long-standing ally Fini called unsuccessfully for change before he was ejected, along with a small group of followers in late 2010. Their departure left Berlusconi with a wafer-thin majority, just as his government began to suffer the effects of the global economic crisis. His reaction to the US credit crunch of 2008 had been to insist it would not affect Italy. But the following year the economy shrank by 5.5%, and as 2010 progressed a growing number of Berlusconi’s compatriots began to realise they had been tricked. With the crisis spreading into the eurozone the following year, Berlusconi, his popularity ratings diving, repeatedly tried to avoid implementing the austerity measures demanded of him by the European institutions. Italy’s borrowing costs soared and his supporters grew increasingly restive.

By November 2011, no longer able to command a majority in the lower house of parliament, Berlusconi stepped down to make way for a non-party government headed by the former EU commissioner Mario Monti. Again, it seemed as if his political career was over. But that was to reckon without Berlusconi’s formidable resources and his vested interest in staying in politics, both as a way of keeping out of jail and safeguarding his companies. The following December, after watching as support drained from the PdL, Berlusconi snatched back the leadership, brought down the Monti government and forced an early election.

He did not lead the PdL back to government at the 2013 general election. But by reviving its partnership with the Northern League and promising to restore the proceeds of a much loathed tax on first homes, he saved it from eclipse. His rightwing alliance took enough seats to guarantee it an important role in the bargaining that followed. It ended in a left-right coalition headed by Enrico Letta. Once again, Berlusconi had made himself the arbiter of the Italian government’s fortunes. Or so he thought.

In the summer of 2013, Berlusconi’s legal difficulties turned from an irritant into a nightmare. In June, in a case brought against him because of his involvement with El-Mahroug, he was convicted of paying a juvenile sex worker and then misusing his official position to try to cover up their relationship. He was later acquitted of both charges on appeal.

But in August, his conviction in a less publicised trial involving his group’s trading activities was upheld. Berlusconi was sentenced to four years in jail for tax fraud. Partly because of an earlier amnesty, and partly because he was a first offender, he did not go to prison. But he did have to do community service in a home for elderly people.

Apparently furious with Letta for failing to protect him from the courts, Berlusconi tried to destroy him, as he had Monti. But his party’s ministers in the coalition refused to follow his orders and formed a new party, led by Berlusconi’s erstwhile heir apparent, Angelino Alfano. The rift highlighted the tycoon turned politician’s refusal to choose a political heir. Various successors were proclaimed, but each time Berlusconi’s giant ego got in the way.

Paradoxically, his warmest approval was reserved for an emerging rival: Matteo Renzi, of the centre-left Democratic party, who in early 2014 snatched power from Letta. Soon after, Renzi hatched a deal that pandered to the former prime minister’s vanity: Berlusconi would back the young leader’s ambitious programme of constitutional reform and thereby salvage his tattered reputation. He would emerge from the process as the godparent of a new Italy.

It was not to be. Renzi dumped him before the constitutional reform entered the decisive phase of its passage through parliament – a fateful decision because, without the support of Berlusconi’s party, which had reverted to its old name of Forza Italia, Renzi had to submit his proposals to a referendum, which he lost. By then, however, Berlusconi cut an increasingly baleful figure: the leader of a much-diminished party, surrounded by – critics said, hostage to – a coterie of hangers-on that included his new partner, Francesca Pascale, almost half a century his junior. As the results came in, showing Forza Italia struggling to get into double figures, Berlusconi suffered heart failure and later underwent surgery. It looked as if the curtain had finally come down on the longest running act in the variety show of European politics.

But that was to underestimate the man. Over the months that followed, Berlusconi moulded a new image for himself, as a soft-hearted grandfather – animal-loving and vegetarian, like his partner.

Forza Italia failed to gain any leverage at the 2018 general election, which ushered in a new kind of populism: that of the maverick Five Star Movement. Grillo’s followers were the senior partners in both the coalitions led by Giuseppe Conte that governed Italy until 2021. But Berlusconi’s party returned to power that year as part of a broadly based alliance in support of Conte’s successor, the former European Central Bank president, Mario Draghi.

Less than a year and half later, Berlusconi played a key role in bringing Draghi down. By then, the octogenarian TV tycoon had another improbably young partner, Pascale having left him and formed a partnership with another woman. Berlusconi’s new companion was Marta Fascina, a Forza Italia deputy just 33 years old at the time. Together, they hosted a lunch at one of the former prime minister’s many luxurious residences that sealed Draghi’s fate. Also at the table were Bossi’s successor as head of the League, Matteo Salvini, and Giorgia Meloni, the leader of the Brothers of Italy, a party with roots in neo-fascism that had been steadily eating into the League’s support.

At the general election that followed in 2022, their conservative alliance won an outright majority. But it was Meloni’s party that emerged with the largest number of votes and seats, and the right to take the prime ministership. Though she was significantly more reactionary than Berlusconi on many issues, Meloni, 40 years younger, had a very different conception of the role of women. Indeed, she once publicly criticised his “bunga bunga” parties.

It is profoundly ironic that with his last decisive political intervention, Berlusconi, the very embodiment of condescendingly patriarchal and sexist attitudes towards women, should have opened the way for Italy to acquire not only its first female prime minister, but one whom he found intolerably bossy.

Election to the European parliament in 2019 led to little after his health was affected by Covid-19. When he went into hospital with a lung infection in April he was found to have leukaemia.

He is survived by Marta and his children, Marina, Pier Silvio, Barbara, Eleonora and Luigi.

🔔 Silvio Berlusconi, businessman and politician, born 29 September 1936; died 12 June 2023

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at http://justforbooks.tumblr.com

#JUST FOR BOOKS #Silvio Berlusconi #in memoriam

[muuum-am-i-adohhhpted]

Stormy Weather (Empires SMP)

summary: hermes is stressing out about the future where he'll eventually have to choose between his papa or his dad's empire to rule. this causes him to secretly weigh the pros and cons of each empire and try to sit in on meetings. at his week in sanctuary, hermes realizes he might be able to control the weather which is another thing to worry about. all of this stress cumulates to one evening when a powerful storm hits sanctuary.

ao3 link

word count: 3659

warnings: light angst, mention of bungee jumping, worries about the death of a friend, reference to running from a threat, unconsciousness

~~~

"Since you’re the son of two empires, which one do you think you’ll rule when you’re older?" It was a throwaway question from one of Hermes’ classmates but it was one that stuck with him long after he had presented his "All About Me!" presentation.

He went back home to Stratos with new eyes. The floating islands were dangerous for regular people (Hermes’ winged shoes made it easy for him to get up there but they were unique since they were a gift from his dad). The buildings were delicate—filled with rare and breakable vases and gold flaked art pieces. His dad wasn't any kind of art person, but he was very intent on keeping "the vibe" of Stratos. And that meant Greek and kinda-Greek decor all around the floating islands and in the village below.

And yet…the open air. Relentlessly, it called to him, tugging at his soul to lift off right now or else. The wind running through his purple chiton, through his fluffy brown hair. Being in the air was nothing like being chained to the earth. He could go wherever he pleased, not bound by mortal laws. He could fly with the birds, give himself a beard of clouds and pretend to be his dad. ("I am tall. I am handsome. Lore, lore, LORE.")

In contrast, Sanctuary was friendly and homey. With colourful buildings of terracotta and brick, Hermes played tag with the other kids when school was out and helped care for the animals in the barn. He didn't have to care about breaking things—he could just let loose and race his friends up bamboo stalks. His papa would take him fishing and sneak him cookies and, in certain moments, he could forget the longing to take flight in his dad's winged shoes.

It didn’t take long, though, for the need to fly took him over and he eyed his winged shoes on the dresser. But flying in Sanctuary was a hard task in general. The bamboo made for hard obstacles. In the night, they were nearly invisible. Not to mention the thick jungle. On top of that, his papa always seemed hesitant to let him fly. On the rare occasions Hermes was allowed to, his papa was always right there, glancing around like, at any moment, something might jump out from the jungle trees and swallow them whole.

"Anything on your mind there, son?" Hermes' dad asked at the other end of the long dining table up in Stratos. His dad took a couple of grapes from a nearby bowl and popped one in his mouth. He looked at Hermes curiously.

Hermes had to hand it to his dad, he could really pick up on what a person was thinking or feeling based on their face. Perhaps it had to do with all the looking in the mirror. Either way, Hermes felt his face flush and he shook his head. "Nothing. Just thinking about…stuff." He tried to come up with a sufficient lie but couldn't think of one.

Hermes' dad awkwardly coughed and ate another grape to busy himself. "Your papa and I were talking the other day. He told me he took you fishing. I was thinking…while there are no good fishing lakes near Stratos, what if I took you bungee jumping?"

Hermes sat up a little straighter. "Really? Papa wouldn't mind?" Hermes' dad often called his papa a "safety rabbit". Papa wasn't just a little strict about flying, he often wouldn't let Hermes near average-sized cliff sides or allow him to partake in water skiing without intense, and often embarrassing, amounts of supervision. On their fishing trip, Hermes was forced to wear a life jacket and floaties around his arms. Not to mention the dozens of whistles attached to his person.

Apparently, the only way papa would allow Hermes to spend time in Stratos was if Hermes was given some kind of flight tool in case he managed to fall off one of the floating islands. And that was how Hermes' winged shoes came to be.

Hermes' dad gave Hermes a conspiratorial look and winked. "He'll never have to know. So…what do you say? It'll have to be tomorrow sometime, though. I have a meeting with my advisors tonight."

"What will you be talking about?" Hermes asked slowly. "Could I join you?" If he was to choose which empire to eventually rule, he would have to learn the inner workings of each one if he was to make an informed decision. And it would all have to be done in secret. Hermes would feel bad if they knew since this choice might be seen as him choosing a favourite parent.

His dad raised his eyebrows slightly. "Really? You've never really been interested in government before."

It was true. And Hermes still wasn't all that interested. But a future emperor had to make some sacrifices. Besides, maybe when he was older he could get someone to do that job for him. Plenty of people would love to be a stand-in ruler. "So, can I come?" He didn’t know how to explain his change of heart to his dad.

His dad shrugged. "Of course. We aren’t talking about much—it's mostly going to be about the new building I want to build." At this, Hermes’ dad’s eyes lit up. "We've got the new island up and running so now it's just a matter of what to put there. What do you think we should build?"

Hermes gnawed thoughtfully on his lip. The new island wasn't the largest one they had in Stratos but it was a nice shape. It wasn't too perfectly round or had weird long parts that would be impossible to build on. He thought for a second longer and was highly aware of his dad watching him with interest.

"I—I don't know," Hermes finally said with a sigh, slouching in his chair. He cast his eyes downwards and could feel a stinging behind his eyes. Don't cry, he told himself and he reached over for a slice of bread and some jam to hide his excessive blinking.

How could he ever become a ruler if he couldn't even decide what he'd like to be built on an island? Rulers had to make hard decisions almost daily. They had to take into consideration every angle of every issue and had to make what they thought was the best decision even if others didn't believe so.

"It's okay, kid," Hermes' dad said. "That's why we're having this meeting." He stood up from the table and gestured for Hermes to do the same. "C'mon, let's head out."

Hermes was hoping the meeting would be somewhat interesting. And it very well might have if he had understood anything they were talking about. The meeting quickly spiralled into arguing between Hermes' dad, his multiple advisors, and a couple of citizens from the village below.

Their sharp voices overlapped and moved from one argument to the next way too fast for Hermes to keep up with. How Stratos managed to get anything done was beyond him.

Eventually, as they finally decided on what to build (was it a church dedicated to his dad or a hotel?), everyone's voices died down and Hermes unknowingly fell asleep in his chair.

~~~

Hermes was grateful for the week to be over as his dad brought him to Sanctuary. After sitting in another boring meeting, he was looking forward to a change in pace. He could already smell the masas de cerdo frita his papa always made when he came back from Stratos.

"Hermes!" His papa exclaimed, running towards him, picking him up, and spinning him around. "Welcome back!"

"Papa!" Hermes laughed before his papa placed him down.

"How was your week at Stratos?" He asked, glancing over at Hermes' dad.

"Good, good," Hermes said, glancing back at his dad with a small grin. While the meetings had been a bust, the bungee jumping hadn't. They had dropped off of any possible high up building: the Stratos Sphere, the fountain, the new island where a Church of Joel was currently being built.

His dad gave a discreet wink in Hermes' direction.

Laughing, his papa patted his shoulder. "Alright then, start unpacking. I'll be there to help you in a bit."

As Hermes' dad and papa walked off for their weekly parenting meeting, Hermes rushed off to his bedroom in his papa's house. He greeted Eddie who was hovering in the kitchen, his rabbit ears pulled back with a bandana so no hair would get in the food.

Hermes was nearly unpacked when his papa poked his head through the door. "Need any help?" He asked.

"Sure!" Hermes exclaimed. "How have you and Eddie been?"

"Doing good, we're all doing well," his papa responded but Hermes could hear the familiar strain in his voice. Hermes wished he knew what was constantly causing his papa stress but, no matter how much Hermes prodded, his papa would always reply that it didn't concern him. Even Eddie sadly shook his head when Hermes asked about it one day.

All Hermes could do was try his best to keep his papa's spirits up whenever he was in Sanctuary.

"Can we go fishing again sometime this week?" Hermes asked as he set his winged shoes on the dresser. He had really enjoyed the last time they had done it. Just he and his papa on a little boat. The waters had been peaceful and Hermes had never seen his papa look so carefree than when he had been focussed on catching fish and treasure from the bottom of the ocean.

Hermes' papa grinned and messed up a bit of Hermes' hair. "Of course."

"It'll have to be in the next few days," Hermes said, the words almost coming out of his mouth without his permission. "A storm's coming." Hermes clamped his mouth shut in confusion. 

His papa stared at him, equally as confused. "How…how do you know?" He asked, eyes wide. Hermes could practically see the cogs turning in his head.

"I—I don't know," Hermes murmured. "It's kinda like a feeling. It's going to be bad, too. It's going to last for three or four days."

"It must be some of your dad's magic within you," his papa said in awe. "You'll have to tell your dad next week. Maybe you can learn to control the weather."

"Control the weather?" Hermes repeated. "You think I can do that?"

"It's entirely possible. I guess we won't know unless you try." Hermes' papa smiled and then clapped his hands. "Alright, well, you hungry or what? We'll finish packing after supper. I'm starving."

As Hermes and his papa made their way down into the kitchen, the table in the corner was set for three. Eddie entered into the kitchen from the side door, his brows furrowed. "Sausage," he said in a slow voice, giving a pointed look towards Hermes, "Alejandra just came by. She told me that they're having an emergency meeting tonight."

Hermes' papa and Eddie seemed to have a conversation just with their eyes. Hermes glanced between the both of them, trying to decipher what was going on. Eventually, Hermes' papa nodded, his shoulders tense at his sides. "Okay."

There was a long period of silence which Hermes broke by asking, "can I join you?"

The two adults looked at one another again. Hermes already knew what his papa would say before he said it. "I'm sorry, Hermes. Your dad did tell me you've grown an interest in government and sitting in on meetings, but this one," he shook his head, "it's…it's not for kids." He shared another look with Eddie.

Hermes did his best to smile. "It's okay. I understand." Throughout the meal, Hermes used all his willpower to keep his tone upbeat until Sausage and Eddie left for the emergency meeting, leaving a farmer, Jorge, to babysit Hermes.

Jorge stayed on the bottom floor which Hermes was grateful for. The villager wasn't within earshot to hear Hermes curl up in his bed and begin to cry, his curtains drawn.

A future emperor and now he had the burden of being able to control the weather? What would happen if he couldn't learn to control the weather? What if he accidentally started a drought? His empire would starve to death without any food. And what about flooding? And snow storms? Hurricanes? He could wipe out entire empires with or without trying. Hermes had to get his powers under control as soon as humanly possible.

On top of all of that, what if he couldn't mediate between arguments outside and within his own empire? He could start wars and civil wars and it would be entirely Hermes' fault. There would be no one else to blame except the person making all the decisions—him.

It was all too much in such a short period of time. Not to mention he had to choose his dad's or papa's empire before ruling anything in the first place. How could he ever learn all he needed to know in time if his papa wouldn't even allow Hermes in on whatever secret he had? He needed to know. He could handle it, he was sure.

CRACK. THUD.

Hermes was up out of his bed and he pulled back the curtains. The sky was a dark grey, menacing clouds hiding the sun and sky. Bamboo stalks and jungle tree branches alike were blowing aggressively in the wind and, in the middle of town square, a large jungle tree lay in the path. Thankfully, it looked like no one was hurt except a couple of barrels and a cart of wheat.

Still, Hermes burst into more tears. This is my fault. He had to stop this storm before anyone got hurt. What if the tree had landed on a house? What about the meeting room where his papa and Eddie were? Hermes' heart pounded as he flung open his window and crawled out of the house, careful to stay away from the windows where Jorge could see.

The wind snapped at Hermes' clothes and hair, loose debris flying around in circles before being thrown to the side. And that was when the downpour began. Fat droplets of rain began falling from the sky, instantly turning everything slippery. Dusk was beginning to settle into Sanctuary, the already hazy visibility turning even worse.

Hermes ran to his papa's favourite fountain. He didn't know much about his papa's past but he did know that the fountain reminded his papa of the hometown where he grew up. He climbed to the top of it, a small square platform that just managed to have the space for his two feet, and raised his hands above him. Hermes wasn't exactly sure how to stop storms, all he knew was that it had to go away.

"Leave!" Hermes shouted, his voice instantly taken by the wind. "Settle down!" He bellowed with even more intensity. The wind grew even more powerful, the raindrops now pricking his skin. "Stop! Please!" He begged, his voice cracking, soaked to the bone but he could feel new tears forming in his eyes in desperation. Hermes' arms dropped to his sides, his hands turning into fists. I can't control it. His entire body drooped, exhaustion finally taking over as the fight left his body.

An especially forceful gust of wind nearly knocked Hermes off his feet and he quickly tried to right himself by stepping his left foot backwards but there was nothing there but air. He tipped backwards and it felt like he was falling in slow motion.

"Hermes!" The wind carried his papa's voice and it was the last thing Hermes heard before the world went dark.

~~~

"I—I think he was trying to stop the storm," a voice wept, sounding like it came from Hermes' left.

"Shhh, shhh," another male voice said, gently. "If anything, you should blame that horrendous babysitter you hired. He should have been keeping a better eye on Hermes. Here, drink this."

There was the sound of slurping and then the clink of some kind of ceramics or glass. "But I was the one who told him he could probably control storms. If I hadn't said anything, maybe he wouldn't be here."

~~~

"I'm afraid the tyrant king has killed Araceli and consumed her power. She used to have the gift of weather and I met with her a couple of years after I fled my hometown with Bubbles." The voice that was speaking was quiet—just above a whisper. "She didn't live very far from our village and I think the king might have found her and used her powers to send storms our way."

"I can ask around about this woman, if you'd like. I know plenty of smaller weather deities." The second voice went silent before saying, "if you think it would be best to leave…"

"No, I can't do that again. I can't leave my family again. I just found Eddie. We have Hermes to care for. If the king manages to find Hermes—"

"What about you?" The other voice raised just slightly. "What do you think your king could do if he could converse with animals? What if he respawns the Ender Dragon and convinces her to destroy our world? It would be like the Rapture all over again."

"The Rapture? But that's just an old folktale."

There was some awkward laughter. "Of course, I'm just saying it could be like the Rapture again. End of our empires and terrible earthquakes and all."

~~~

"You'll have no choice but to leave if your king gets too close to you, you know. I can take Hermes in. The king wouldn't try to kill a god, would he?" The voice was slightly joking, as if trying to lighten the mood.

There was a too long pause. "I don't know anymore."

~~~

Hermes peeled his eyes open and he instantly closed them again, the light too bright. "Ugh," he groaned, trying to bring his arm up to block the light still breaching his eyelids but his arms felt as heavy as lead.

"Hermes!" His papa and dad exclaimed, jumping up from their spot in the corner of the room. They were instantly at his side, worry etched on both their faces. They were all in the Sanctuary infirmary. He could hear no wind or rain—just how long had he been out for?

"Are you feeling okay?"

"The doctor said you thankfully didn't break any bones but you've got a pretty bad bruise on the side of your right arm."

"Don't you dare try that again! You should've known the fountain would've been slippery in the rain!"

"I can help you with your powers if you'd like. It's difficult but I know you can do it. Well, after you rest and all."

Hermes burst into tears, trying to hide his face under the blankets in shame. "I—I'm so sorry," he blubbered as his papa gently pulled down the covers. "I didn't mean to bring the storm, I was just feeling frustrated about everything."

Hermes' dad was sitting on the edge of the bed, playing with Hermes' hair and scratching at his scalp like he would a cat. "You didn't conjure up the storm, Hermes." His dad smiled down at him. "To put it bluntly, you'd need to train a lot more in order to create a storm of that size. Don't worry, it's not your fault."

Hermes took in his dad's words and breathed a big sigh of relief. "Really?" It's not my fault. It's not my fault.

His dad nodded.

"What were you feeling frustrated about?" His papa then asked.

"I'm going to have to choose between the two of you when I grow up!" Hermes finally exclaimed.

The sentence hung in the air. Both Hermes' dad and papa glanced at each other, their eyebrows drawing down. Hermes' dad was the first one to break away from the gaze. "What on earth are you talking about? You go to each of our empires every week. You hardly have a choice in having us as your parents."

Hermes' papa glared over at Hermes' dad. "Shhh, Joel." He then looked down at Hermes. "Please explain what you mean. Why will you have to choose one of us?"

"When I'm older," Hermes said. "You're both my parents and you both rule empires. I'm going to have to choose which one to rule eventually and I don't want to choose between the two of you. I don't think I even want to be an emperor."

"Oh, Hermes," his papa said with a little chuckle. He kissed Hermes' forehead. "You don't have to rule anything. We aren't going to force you to take that burden if you don't want to." Hermes had fuzzy recollections of his dad and papa speaking about…something while he was going in and out of consciousness from the fall from the fountain, but he waved it off for now. He'd ponder on that later when his memory was sharper. "Your dad and I wouldn't make you choose between us and, even if you did, we wouldn’t blame you for choosing the other. That would make us awful parents."

Hermes felt like a massive boulder had just been lifted off his chest. He took a big breath and a large smile grew on his face. "I don't want to become a ruler of any empire."

"Great!" His dad exclaimed. "You'll have less grey hair than your papa."

"And hopefully less ego than your dad," his papa said with a playful glare.

Hermes settled into the cot he was laying on. His eyelids began to grow heavy and, after a second, his eyelids fluttered closed. Dreamland was calling and Hermes was more than happy to go. "I love you," he said through a long yawn.

"Love you."

"I love you too."

#empires smp #empires smp fanfic #empires smp fanfiction #hermes #hermes (empires smp) #empires smp hermes #mythicalsausage #smallishbeans

[nerendus]

Okay, fuck it. Rogue Traders intro post.

Alwena Von Valancius (Iconoclast)

My first Rogue Trader, and by default, the 'canon' Rogue Trader.

She is a self-described "recovering serial killer," having spent her years on the voidship she was born to hunting and killing her fellows to "harvest" their organs. She's extremely farmercore because the other games I use her in are all farming sims. The organs mainly go to her cousin, Mianno, who runs a crime business in the system she often visits. Where do the others go? Don't worry about it.

Alwena is a "sanctioned" psyker, AKA, she was born with psychic powers but did not want to go through the trouble of sanctioning so she called upon her cousin to help her forge a new identity. Hence why her in-game portrait looks nothing like her. Perks of having white hair means that no one can question why she doesn't look like her portrait. It's from the stress, guys. The ambiguous stress she never elaborates on. What did she have to do for her cousin in order to get the new identity? .......Don't worry about it.

Her journey towards redemption begins the moment the game starts up, because her controller got Kim Kitsuragi'd so hard by Abelard that she had to immediately leave her ideals of mass destruction and become a goody two shoes. Which is why she uses the madwoman voice despite being the most normal person in the room. She is constantly thinking about murder and wanting to inflict chaos upon the galaxy, but every word that comes out of her mouth is based around helping others and making others lives more tolerable. By the end of Act 2, she's been completely converted into a Good Person. She's still a major sadist, but it's definitely something.

Her morals are still very loose, but only in terms of bits. She will abandon all her ideals if she thinks it would be funny. She would have done so many numbers on TikTok....

She makes a terrible girlfriend. She meets someone new and immediately starts flirting with them and calling them the love of her life. The next day, she breaks up with them, and the entire voidship has to deal with her Emotions. Music that plays at the end of a film about a monk killing himself plays on the vox for a week while she cries and rants about her love life to anyone that will listen--even to the person she is currently trying to kill. If someone tries to break up with her, it elicits no strong reaction out of her. If anything, she'd just say "Well I didn't love you anyway." And it would most certainly be the truth.

Heinrix and Jae are both of her exes. Heinrix didn't last two days before she broke up with him. Jae lasted two years, but that was mainly because she had access to a lot of Jae's "friends" to share with. She does have a real love--but it's for Pasqal and while in my heart of hearts AdMechfucking is real and possible, she never gets to marry her favourite coghead. :(

After the end of the game, she marries a noble from the Winterscale house that she had recently destablised by killing their leader in an attempt to reunite the unstable house under her rule. Roughly twenty years after the game, she is murdered in her sleep--an axe wound to her skull. Many believe she was killed by her power-hungry son who ended up taking her place as Rogue Trader, while others believe that it was all a fabrication and that she is still alive somewhere. Probably being a genuine farmer now.

In the Iconoclast society she created after her death, she becomes canonized as a saint--but only for the territory owned by the Von Valancius dynasty. She is often depicted with her prosthetic arm cradling her opposite hand engulfed in flames at her chest, blood running down her face from the wound, and wearing the simple nightgown she was murdered in. Other territories that align their ideals with the authoritarian Empire view her as a heretic and frequently try to purge those possessing talismans in her image.

Mianno Von Valancius (Heretic)

I have...significantly less information on Mianno since I have not done a complete heretical playthrough.

She is a crime boss in control of an entire system as well as some solitary planets across the galaxy. However despite this lofty status, she acts more like an underpaid intern instead of a terrifyingly powerful crime lord. She's in a constant state of staring dead eyed in front of her and speaks in an extremely monotone and exhausted voice. I do not think she has slept in her forty years of being alive.

Mianno had a...shaky relationship with Theodora. Her aunt occasionally came to her when she was in need of illegal goods, but she has a bad case of insulting everyone who tries to make conversation with her, and more than one interaction with the two has resulted in bloody threats.

The burn across her face marks her first exchange with the Chaos Gods. I have absolutely no idea what occurred, she won't tell me, but the moment they offered her violence, she just deadpanned "okay" and has been working on the side of Chaos ever since. All of the dialogue choices that involve her laughing, it's important for you to know that she is saying each individual "ha" with absolutely no emotion whatsoever.

Her relationship with her cousin Alwena is definitely shady. Suffice to say, they are not beating the cousinfucking allegations. Their relationship is basically this image:

With Mianno being Rogue Trader, Alwena essentially serves as her lap warmer. No one has ever seen them kiss...but the energy they exude is definitely not familial love. With Alwena as Rogue Trader, nothing major changes with Mianno. She continues being a crime boss and having no strong emotions towards anything around her.

In terms of her canon love....it's no one. She is physically emotionally mentally incapable of being in love with another person. She does fuck with Marazhai, but that's only so she can imagine all of the lower deck as the infuriating employees she had to deal with as a crime lord. She does not think about Marazhai outside of murder.

I haven't completed the heretic run, so I don't know what that one's ending looks like. But suffice to say, whenever her death comes, she greets it without much emotion and a simple "Okay."

#texts from the underbrush #So much information for Alwena and so little for Mianno....it's clear to see which one I prefer #warhammer 40k #rogue trader

[mariacallous]

No wonder Italy’s current leader feels indebted to the four-time prime minister; she owes her ascent to the man who played a decisive role in normalising the far right.

The man who changed the face of Italy and paved the way for the ruling far right died on Monday, but Berlusconism has risen. After Silvio Berlusconi’s death, my country seems to have fallen under a spell. The major TV channels broadcast hagiographic reports of the four-time prime minister, with nostalgic music playing in the background. Celebrities remember the day they met the tycoon but have ostensibly forgotten his “bunga bunga” parties. The mainstream narrative leaves out Berlusconi’s conflicts of interest, his connections with the mafia, his disregard for rules and his obduracy in siding with his friend Vladimir Putin to the very end.

As if to resurrect the rampant years of Berlusconism, media and politics are speaking with one voice. Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni has proclaimed a day of national mourning to coincide with her coalition partner’s state funeral. Although Berlusconi’s centre-right party, Forza Italia, is now in disarray, the man’s true legacy consists of Meloni’s ruthless far right governing the country and furtherly reshaping it.

The Leopard

One year ago, when he was campaigning for the general elections, the octogenarian Berlusconi appeared on TikTok and tried to endear the digital generation. Most likely, teenagers think of Berlusconi as an old billionaire who founded a media empire and led four governments; some of them associate him with the football team Milan, others think about his sex parties with prostitutes. But youngsters are poorly aware of the way Berlusconi put democracy under stress in the last three decades.

In the early Nineties, a huge corruption scandal, named “Tangentopoli”, shattered the political system. Investigations into the illicit financing of parties also triggered the collapse of the Socialist Party, Psi, and its leader, Bettino Craxi. The latter’s friend, Berlusconi, “entered the field” to fill the void. Berlusconi was not at all an outsider. He was a Leopard: he was part of the so-called “First Republic”, but became the one who capitalized from its collapse. Taking office as Prime Minister in 1994, he founded the “Second Republic” and led four governments until 2011. To quote The Leopard, a classic Italian novel by Giuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa, “if we want things to stay as they are, things will have to change”.

Berlusconi and Craxi were united by friendship and strings. In the 1980s, Craxi was in charge as Prime Minister and paved the way for Berlusconi’s media empire: Fininvest’s private broadcasting was illegal at that time, but the Socialist leader passed two “Berlusconi decrees” to save that business.

In 1994, after creating a TV empire, thanks to politics, Berlusconi conquered politics thanks to television. He seduced voters with the dazzle of entertainment and the marketing tactics of advertisement; the electoral programme was promoted as if it was a dazzling product, keeping contradictions in the shade. When in power, Forza Italia’s leader had a grip on private and public broadcasters: “they speak with a single voice, saying that Berlusconi is fantastic”, as the Italian political scientist Giovanni Sartori noticed decades ago.

During the Berlusconi era, Sartori was deeply concerned about “the erosion of democracy in Italy”. In a “videocracy” where images are hegemonic, “citizenry is intellectually impoverished, and the monopoly of television in the Berlusconi case is even more worrying”, he said.

Melon benefited most from his legacy

Berlusconi used his TV empire as a tool to shape the narrative and to get an audience. He was an ante litteram populist: he blamed parties, he promoted a centralized worship around his person, he used scaremongering tactics and even unleashed his supporters against judges. Now you can see why Berlusconi inspired Viktor Orbán, and you may notice that the Italian leader had something in common with Donald Trump or Andrej Babiš. But it is Meloni who is benefitting most from Berlusconi’s political and cultural legacy. He played a decisive role in normalising the far right. In 1993 Gianfranco Fini, the leader of the Italian Social Movement, Msi, ran for mayor of Rome; the tycoon had not yet jumped into politics but he hastened to endorse the post-fascist candidate. In a matter of months, Msi was rebranded into Alleanza nazionale, National Alliance, and entered the first government led by Berlusconi.

In 2001, Fini himself was deputy-prime minister in the second Berlusconi government; at that time, the G8 hosted in Genoa ended in blood. A huge anti-globalization movement, so transversal as to bring together teenagers and pensioners, leftists and Catholics, was forcibly repressed by police brutality. Amnesty International stated that it was the most serious suspension of democratic rights in a Western country since the Second World War.

Forza Italia’s leader never showed any sense of limit. Putting aside the sex parties, his strategy of power showed no restraint: it was founded on alliances with racist and even secessionist parties such as Umberto Bossi’s Lega Nord, the ancestor of Matteo Salvini’s Lega. And post-fascists have always been Berlusconi’s coalition partners, although they rearranged their framing over the years: in 2012, Meloni founded Brothers of Italy. A decade later, she took charge as Prime Minister. Within a few months, her government attacked media freedom and took over the broadcaster Rai. Forza Italia’s leader started the takeover of the media and the public sphere. He purged critical journalists such as Enzo Biagi from the public broadcaster and never hesitated to attack institutions. A few weeks ago, Meloni’s government moved to curb the state audit court’s oversight powers.

The far-right Prime Minister also plans “not to bother those who create wealth” and is benevolent towards tax dodgers, to say the least. Not only did Berlusconi count on the votes of tax evaders, but he was himself charged with tax fraud. He faced a huge amount of scandals and convictions but avoided jail and unleashed his supporters against the judiciary. Despite this, Meloni has proclaimed national mourning. It’s pretty clear why she feels indebted to Berlusconism.

[galactic-empire-incorrect-quotes]

Road trip question: do you have any SW ships? Also, I formally request one (1) headcanon for each of the following imps: Veers, Piett, Needa, Motti, and Jerjerrod.

SHIPS:

I definitely ship Veers/Piett. I know that there are a ton of other Imperial ships out there, and I like most of them, but not as much as I love Veers/Piett. (That said, I think that all the Darth Vader ships are just crack ships.)

If you mean Star Wars as a whole, there are only two ships that I feel strongly about, and the rest I don’t really care.

Poe/Finn: Wonderful, iconic, gay, beautiful, and any other positive adjective you can think of. If this were a sequel trilogy blog you would never hear the end of this ship, but I try to stay in my original trilogy lane.

Reylo: Burn in hell. Words cannot describe how much I hate this ship. I hate this as much as I hate Dramione, and that’s saying something.

As for the others:

Leia/Han: I like it fine, but I think their breakup was realistic. They loved each other but were very very different people.

Anidala: I don’t think they were toxic or abusive, but neither Anakin nor Padmé were raised in environments that create emotionally well adjusted people, which was bad for their relationship.

So, those are really all my thoughts on ships.

HEADCANONS:

Veers: Veers is a very patriotic and upstanding citizen. Back when he joined the military, it was still during the rule of the Old Republic. Though the Clone Army and the Jedi took care of 95% of personnel needs, he believed it was his duty as a citizen to serve the Republic, and later, the Empire. He has two kids, a son and a daughter, both of whom joined the Imperial military at his urging. (His daughter is a decorated TIE pilot, and his son is an infantry soldier who would rather not be an infantry soldier.) Veers believes that the most honorable thing a person can do for their country is to sacrifice their life in battle, which leads to a lot of dramatic speeches his soldiers have to suffer through. They rank these speeches by categories of Drama, Pretentiousness, Graphic Violence, and Delusions of Grandeur.

Piett: Piett is not married, nor does he have any kids. (That’s mostly because he’s too busy to date and too responsible to knock anyone up.) He has two nephews and three nieces, but he doesn’t see them often. It’s not because he hates spending time with them, it’s because he hates spending time with his siblings. Sometimes he thinks he might like to be a parent, but then he remembers that his life is stressful enough already.

Before Piett was officially the admiral, he was the de facto admiral. Ozzel was too busy arguing with other commanders and using too much vacation time to actually do his job, so Piett did it. The only reason Ozzel made it as far as he did is that Piett did all his paperwork. Being the admiral may make him more likely to get killed by Darth Vader, but at least he doesn’t have to be both the captain and the admiral at once.

Needa: Needa’s crew has an unusually large amount of respect and admiration for him. The Empire goes through captains fast enough that officers don’t usually get attached to each other, and most commanders are snobby and unapproachable. However, when he first became the captain of the Executor, he made an effort to get to know the people on the ship, especially those working on the bridge with him. Needa took full responsibility for losing the Millennium Falcon instead of throwing some technician under the bus, which most other people wouldn’t have done. When he got killed by Darth Vader, they held a brief impromptu funeral service for him.

Motti: Motti is very arrogant because he’s used to being the best. Back when he was growing up in the Outer Rim, someone of his origin had very low chances of making it into a high ranking military position. Motti was the only kid his age who was good enough to get a spot in the Imperial Navy, so he developed a superiority complex pretty early on. He’s never quite adjusted to the fact that he is no longer the smartest person in the room.

Jerjerrod: Jerjerrod originally just wanted to be an engineer, but family pressure and weird promotions from Vader’s homicidal tendencies put him in administration and management. I think he was a lot more involved in the actual engineering, problem solving, innovative parts of designing the new Death Star. After the war with the Rebels ended, he had planned to start an academy for Imperial engineers.

#star wars #incorrect star wars quotes #galactic empire #incorrect quotes #admiral piett #firmus piett #general veers #maximilian veers #darth vader #moff jerjerrod #tiaan jerjerrod #conan antonio motti #admiral motti #lorth needa #captain needa #star wars headcanons #star wars headcanon #veers x piett #anti reylo #Poe Dameron x Finn

[techblocks]

What Is Design Thinking?

The design thinking approach is a set of principles and methods for solving complicated problems by prioritizing user interests. Design thinking helps solve a problem practically and creatively.

It distills empirical knowledge from various fields – including architecture, engineering, and business – and adopts solution-focused methods for resolving issues.

While a background in design is not needed for design thinking, prioritizing human interests is imperative as user needs are at the heart of design thinking, which is why it attempts to understand their needs and create an effective solution.

How does problem-solving differ from solution-based thinking?

While solution-based thinking focuses on finding constructive solutions to a problem, problem-based thinking concentrates on opportunities instead of obstacles and constraints. Empirical research conducted by Bryan Lawson at the University of Sheffield illustrates the key differences between the two approaches.

The study sought to determine how a group of designers and scientists would approach a particular problem. Student groups were required to build one-layer buildings from colored blocks in line with this. While the building represents the desired outcome (the solution), there were unwritten rules concerning the placement and relationship of certain blocks (the limitations).

Lawson’s results were reported in his book How Designers Think, in which he noted that scientists focused on identifying the problem (problem-based thinking). In contrast, designers stressed the need to discover the proper solution: “The scientists utilized a technique of rapidly trying out a succession of designs that used as many different blocks and combinations of blocks as feasible… As a result, they attempted to maximize the knowledge accessible to them regarding the permitted combinations.

If they could figure out the rule determining which block combinations were permitted, they could then look for an arrangement that would optimize the required color across the pattern”. Lawson’s results are at the core of Design Thinking, which is an iterative process based on continuous experimentation until the best solution is found.

What exactly is the Design Thinking procedure?

Design Thinking is a user-centric and progressive approach. To gain a deeper understanding of Design Thinking, consider the four principles articulated by Christoph Meinel and Harry Leifer of Stanford University’s Hasso-Plattner Institute of Design.

The Four Design Thinking Principles:

The human rule says that regardless of the context, every design effort is social in nature, and any social innovation will return us to the “people-centric point of view.”

The ambiguity rule states that ambiguity is unavoidable and cannot be eliminated or oversimplified. Experimenting with your knowledge and competence to their limits is essential for seeing things in new ways.

The rule of redesign states everything in the design is being redesigned. While technology and societal situations change and advance, fundamental human needs do not. We essentially rethink the ways of meeting these needs or achieving the intended goals.

The tangibility rule says by making ideas tangible in the form of prototypes, designers can communicate them more effectively.

The 5 Stages of Design Thinking

According to the Hasso-Plattner Institute of Design at Stanford (also known as d.school), the Design Thinking process may be broken down into five parts or phases based on these four principles:

Empathize

Define

Ideate

Prototype

Test

Let’s take a closer look at each of these.

Empathize

Empathy is an essential beginning point for Design Thinking. The first step of the process is spent getting to know the user and learning about their wants, needs, and goals. This step entails seeing and interacting with people to comprehend their psychological and emotional states.

During this phase, the designer attempts to set aside their assumptions to gain genuine insights into the consumer.

Define

The problem is defined in the second step of the Design Thinking process. The designers compile all their results from the empathize phase and attempt to answer questions: What issues and barriers do the consumers encounter? What patterns emerge? What is the primary user issue they must address?

The designers get a clear problem statement by the end of this stage. The trick here is to define the problem in terms of the user; rather than saying “We need to…,” frame it in terms of the user: “Retirees in the Bay Area require…” After the problems have been articulated, the process to start figuring out the answers begins.

Ideate

After gaining a firm grasp of user issues and a clear problem statement, it’s time to consider potential solutions. The third stage of the Design Thinking process is where creativity occurs, and it is critical to emphasize that the ideation stage is a judgment-free zone.

Designers will hold brainstorming sessions to generate as many different viewpoints and ideas as possible. Designers can utilize various ideation techniques, ranging from brainstorming and mind-mapping to bodystorming (roleplay situations) and provocation — an extreme lateral-thinking strategy requiring designers to challenge themselves. After the brainstorming process, the designers narrow it down to a few ideas to enter the penultimate stage. 

Prototype

The fourth stage of the Design Thinking process is about experimentation and transforming ideas into concrete objects. A prototype is a scaled-down version of the product that includes the potential solutions identified in previous stages.

This step is critical for putting each solution to the test and identifying any restrictions or weaknesses. Depending on how well the proposed solutions perform in prototype form, they may be approved, enhanced, redesigned, or rejected throughout the prototype stage.

Evaluate

User testing follows prototyping. However, it is crucial to highlight that this is rarely the conclusion of the Design Thinking process.

In practice, the findings of the testing process will often bring you back to a previous step, offering the insights you need to rephrase the initial problem statement or generate fresh ideas you had not considered earlier. 

Is Design Thinking a Step-by-Step Process?

No! When looking at these well-defined processes, you might see a logical sequence with a predetermined order. On the other hand, the Design Thinking process is not linear; it is flexible and fluid, looping back and around and in on itself!

With each discovery brought about by a new phase, you will need to rethink and reinterpret what you have done before — you will never be traveling in a straight line!

What is the Goal of Design Thinking?

There are numerous advantages to employing a Design Thinking methodology, whether in a business, educational, personal, or social environment. Design Thinking, first and foremost, promotes creativity and innovation. As humans, we rely on the knowledge and experiences we have gained to guide our behavior.

We develop patterns and routines that, while valuable in some instances, might limit our ability to solve problems. Another significant advantage of Design Thinking is that it prioritizes humans.

Emphasizing empathy encourages businesses and organizations to think about the real people who use their products and services, increasing their chances of delivering meaningful user experiences. It implies better and more useful goods that genuinely improve the users’ lives, resulting in happier customers and a better bottom line.

Advantages of Applying Design Thinking at Work

As a designer, you significantly impact the goods and experiences that your firm brings to the market.

Integrating Design Thinking into your process may provide substantial business value, ensuring that the things you design are desired by clients and are financially and resource-wise sustainable. With that in mind, consider some of the primary advantages of employing Design Thinking at work:

Reduces time-to-market dramatically: because of its emphasis on problem-solving and developing viable solutions, Design Thinking can significantly reduce the time spent on design and development — particularly when combined with lean and agile methodologies.

Cost savings and higher ROI: getting successful goods to market faster saves the company money. Design Thinking has been shown to produce a substantial return on investment.

Improves customer retention and loyalty: Design Thinking provides a user-centric approach, increasing user engagement and customer retention over time.

Encourages innovation: Design Thinking is all about questioning assumptions and existing beliefs, and it encourages all stakeholders to think outside the box. This generates an innovative culture that reaches well beyond the design team.

Can be used across the organization: a nice thing about Design Thinking is that it is not just for designers. It promotes cross-team collaboration and utilizes collective thinking. Further, it may be used by almost any team in any business.

Whether you are attempting to develop a company-wide Design thinking culture or simply wanting to enhance your approach to user-centric design, Design Thinking helps you innovate, focus on the user, and design products that solve genuine problems.

What is a ‘Wicked Problem’ in Design Thinking?

When it comes to fixing ‘wicked problems,’ Design Thinking comes in handy. Horst Rittel, a design theorist, invented the phrase “wicked problem” in the 1970s to describe tough challenges that are highly ambiguous in nature. There are many unknown aspects to wicked problems; there is no definitive answer, unlike “tame” situations.

Resolving one component of a complex problem is likely to disclose or create new challenges. Another distinguishing feature of wicked problems is that they have no endpoint; as the nature of the problem evolves, so must the solution. Solving difficult problems is thus a constant process that necessitates Design Thinking! Poverty, starvation, and climate change are examples of wicked challenges in our society today.

Connection Between Design Thinking and User Experience Design

You have probably seen a lot of similarities between Design Thinking and user experience design by now, and you are probably wondering how they relate to one another. Both are strongly user-centric and driven by empathy, and UX designers will employ many of the Design Thinking phases, such as user research, prototyping, and testing. Despite their similarities, there are some critical differences between the two.

For one thing, the impact of Design Thinking is typically seen at a more strategic level; it examines a problem area to uncover feasible solutions in the context of understanding users, technology feasibility, and business objectives.

Design Thinking is being embraced and utilized by all levels of the organization, including C-level executives. If Design Thinking is concerned with identifying answers, UX design is concerned with developing those solutions and ensuring that they are useable, accessible, and enjoyable for the user.

Consider Design Thinking to be a toolkit that UX designers can utilize. If you work in the UX design profession, it is one of many critical approaches you will rely on to generate exceptional user experiences.

Conclusion

All areas in a company can benefit from Design Thinking. It can be aided by bright, airy physical workspaces that accommodate how employees prefer to work. To apply design thinking to all initiatives, managers should first define the consumers they are attempting to assist and then use the five stages of Design Thinking to describe and address the identified problems. Using a Design-Thinking process increases the likelihood that a company will be inventive, creative, more human, and ultimately successful.

This article was originally published on tblocks.com

#technology #software #developer #design thinking

[silver-strings-of-fate]

Updated my verse page here! Still working on info for the two newbies but everything else is all collected. Mobile-friendly version under the cut!

Amamiya Ren Verses

~Main Timeline Verses~

Getting Out There: The main verse. Encapsulates the period from the beginning of the main game to the end of Strikers. This is also the default tag for anything without a definite verse or for minor AUs without their own dedicated verses.

Life Keeps Changing (Post-Strikers Ren): What could be more stressful than saving the world from false gods? College. Having returned to Tokyo for university, Ren now has to deal with establishing himself as a functioning adult. Frankly, there are times when he’d rather be getting beaten up by shadows again.

Inaba Blues (Kid Ren): Growing up in a rural town sucks. You have to deal with puberty, school, bullies, a series of strange murders and kidnappings, and your favorite department store getting a new mascot that creeps you the fuck out.

~Alternate Uni-Verses~

The Devil with 22 Faces (Palace Ruler Ren): An alternative course of events for Royal’s third seminar. After defeating Yaldabaoth, Ren inadvertently absorbs the god’s power into himself. Overwhelmed, Ren suffers a mental breakdown and manifests his own palace over Tokyo. In his corrupted mental state, Ren believes that control and order are the source of all suffering, and that true happiness can only be achieved through absolute chaos. He seeks to create a reality with no rules; where anyone can do or be anything and no one needs to hide their true self. 

His palace manifests as a brightly colored, cell-shaded, comic book-esque Tokyo that twists and warps at random. Areas he frequents, like Yongen-Jaya or Shibuya Square, are more stable than places he doesn’t, since he has a clearer image of them in their mind. Also present in these places are fragments of Ren’s shadow. These shadows all wear full-face masks that each show an expression relevant to their location (ie a customer service smile at places where he works)

More info here (shadow design) and here (final boss form)

A Not-So-Gentle Gentleman Detective (Justice Ren): An arcana-swapped version of Ren, taking Akechi’s role in the story. After a series of unfortunate events earlier in his life, Ren ends up under the thumb of Shido. He plays the role of the friendly Gentleman Detective on the surface, but acts as the Black-Hooded Assassin behind the scenes, all while secretly plotting his revenge.

More info here (background), here (third semester info), here (casual design), and here (metaverse designs)

What's a King to a God (Pride Ren): A part of the larger Another Story swap au, Ren takes the role of Shido. He's the head of a large business empire, and now he's turned his sights on becoming prime minister. He has the whole country under his thumb, but he wants more.

More info here

Two Pair (Twin Ren): Twin au with @learcarum's Akira. Between the two of them, Ren always found himself being second best. While he loves his twin dearly, he can't help but resent and envy him.

Reflection of the True Self (Demon Ren): Due to the strange inner-workings of the Metaverse, Ren finds himself physically fused with Arsene. While to the average person, he looks no different than before, to those aware of the Metaverse, the giant pair of wings and demonic horns are unmistakable.

Welcome to the Velvet Room (Attendant Ren): It’s stated that anyone who enters the Velvet Room must first form a contract. Doing so grants one the power of the Wild Card, but what do you have to give up in exchange?  After the Phantom Thieves plan to prevent Ren’s assassination fails; a new attendant appears in the Velvet Room. This attendant, Adrien, looks suspiciously like Ren, but has no memories prior to awakening in the space between dreams and reality.

Just Call Me Lupin the Fourth (Real Thief Ren): Palaces? Metaverse? Never heard of her! The Infamous ‘Kaitou Joker’ is too busy stealing stuff in the real world (with the help of his talking cat) to worry about changing anyone’s heart. After all, there’s no need to make someone confess their crimes if you just steal the evidence. Plus he might get a chance to swipe their rare jewel collection while he’s at it.

A Prince’s Loyal Knight (Traitor Ren): Instead of going through with the Phantom Thieves’ plan to outwit Akechi’s November assassination, Ren makes the choice to betray his friends and team up with his would-be killer. Under Development