#Writing nobles

[inky-duchess]

Fantasy Guide to Royal and Noble Marriages

Marriage is an important part of the life of both royal and nobles in any setting, either historical fiction or fantasy. Marriages are not only life long commitments but they are business and protection deals by families. These are strategies, not relationships. So how can we write them?

Why make a Marriage?

Marriage is at its heart, the seal on an agreement. Two families may come to an agreement to share resources, connections and support one another. For a noble family, it could be about elevation. For example, if the daughter of an Earl marries a Duke, her siblings can now make higher marriages and her family would be more important thanks to this link. It could even be about money. In the late Victorian - Early Edwardian period, many impoverished English peers married wealthy American women for their fortunes. In exchange, the women became titled aristocrats. Royal marriages are made for more universal perks. A royal marriage can change the political layout of the world, it could isolate a kingdom or be the starting gun or a war or end a years long conflict. For example, Kingdom A might be being threatened by Kingdom B. Kingdom C has a powerful military. Kingdom A might offer up a marriage deal to Kingdom C, with the caveat that C protect A from B. C would obligated to act if A gets attacked by B, since A is now an ally. A marriage cements the deal as it creates family ties, which is seen as a sort of permanent stamp on negotiations. After all, would you screw over family?

Marriages of Choice vs Arranged Marriages

Marriages can either be made on behalf of a royal/noble or made by themselves. An heir might be more restricted in this case whilst a younger children have a little more leeway especially if they are part of a large family.

Marriages are not always arranged. But that doesn't mean there aren't restrictions. Any royal or noble will have a list of certain attributes their spouse must have or certain attributes they cannot have. Marriages of choice have to be approved by parents (and the crown if you are a high ranking noble) and if you are royal, sometimes by the government itself.

Arranged marriages are agreements between two families. They might want each other's protection, support or they might simply want to do business together such as opening trade corridors or lifting embargoes on certain items. Arranged marriages are usually made on behalf of both spouses and they are expected to agree to the match for the sake of their family or country.

Screwing over the Deal

Making a marriage doesn't mean that the deal will last forever. Alliances change and circumstances shift. Whilst everyone may be all friendly during negotiations and for some time after, politics is the aim of the game. Treaties can be broken, war can break out and marriages can become unpopular choices. If a country has welcomed a bride/groom one day and then their country becomes the enemy, the bride/groom could become an enemy as well and face isolation and disrespect from the public - even their new family. However they are expected to be loyal to their new family and country, even over their own family and kingdom. These marriages have no promise of happiness. They are a job, a duty to ensure the family is taken care of and securing their futures.

Timeline of a Royal Marriage between Two Royal Families

Offer: The suggestion is made.

Negotiations: The discussion through ambassadors of what a marriage might entails, what each side is willing to provide or what they demand of the marriage. This can take weeks, months even years before a marriage is agreed.

Betrothal: Marriage is approved, treaty signed and the couple is engaged. Betrothals can last from anything from a few weeks to years

Wedding: If one spouse has to travel to their new home, they will travel to their new home and meet their new court, new family and their spouse. Once they arrive, the wedding will take place in a matter of days.

Married Life

These marriages are public, so it is expected for the couple to at least act civil. If they do not like one another or can't stand the sight of another or they just don't love each other, is irrelevant to society and their expectations. They are expected to attend certain events together, sire children and do their duty. There's no rules saying they must live together, so many lived separate lives. The higher ranking spouse is expected to provide their spouse with an allowance and a staff. For international marriages, spouses are not permitted to hire a large party of their own attendants even if they accompany them to their new country. They may keep one or two for company but a newly minted royal should not be waited on by foreign servants, they are a royal of their new kingdom now.

What makes a "good" marriage?

As mentioned above, marriages and relationships are expected to fall into certain perameters. Any spouse - chosen or assigned - should meet certain standards such as be of appropriate rank, follow societal norms and even sometimes be of the same religion. Marriages to anybody who falls out of these standards can be seen as a devasting move - the marriage of Edward IV is still remarked on as a contributing factor to the end of the Plantagenet dynasty. Making the wrong choice of spouse in society's eyes can lead to gossip, being shunned, being disrespected and even barred from succeeding to your birthright. Unequal marriages or morganatic marriages, can even bar children from succession, disallow the couple from attending events together and deny the spouse the style they ought to be entitled to - the marriage of Archduke Franz Ferdinand is a good example to study. A good marriage is seen as one that adheres to all the expectations of society - even if it is an unhappy one.

[elodieunderglass]

changes and trends in horror-genre films are linked to the anxieties of the culture in its time and place. Vampires are the manifestation of grappling with sexuality; aliens, of foreign influence. Horror from the Cold War is about apathy and annihilation; classic Japanese horror is characterised by “nature’s revenge”; psychological horror plays with anxieties that absorbed its audience, like pregnancy/abortion, mental illness, femininity. Some horror presses on the bruise of being trapped in a situation with upsetting tasks to complete, especially ones that compromise you as a person - reflecting the horrors and anxieties of capitalism etc etc etc. Cosmic horror is slightly out of fashion because our culture is more comfortable with, even wistful for, “the unknown.” Monster horror now has to be aware of itself, as a contingent of people now live in the freedom and comfort of saying “I would willingly, gladly, even preferentially fuck that monster.” But I don’t know much about films or genres: that ground has been covered by cleverer people.

I don’t actually like horror or movies. What interests me at the moment is how horror of the 2020s has an element of perception and paying attention.

Multiple movies in one year discussed monsters that killed you if you perceived them. There are monsters you can’t look at; monsters that kill you instantly if you get their attention. Monsters where you have to be silent, look down, hold still: pray that they pass over you. M Zombies have changed from a hand-waved virus that covers extras in splashy gore, to insidious spores. A disaster film is called Don’t Look Up, a horror film is called Nope. Even trashy nun horror sets up strange premises of keeping your eyes fixed on something as the devil GETS you.

No idea if this is anything. (I haven’t seen any of these things because, unfortunately, I hate them.) Someone who understands better than me could say something clever here, and I hope they do.

But the thing I’m thinking about is what this will look like to the future, as the Victorian sex vampires and Cold War anxieties look to us. I think they’ll have a little sympathy, but they probably won’t. You poor little prey animals, the kids will say, you were awfully afraid of facing up to things, weren’t you?

[paradox-n-bedrock]

me in big fandoms: oh cool, it's so active and there's so many people to vibe with, this is amaz-

*finds my niche angle that appeals to approximately six people*

me: okay, folks, it's you and me now

[nat-20s]

Biggest hindrance of Doctor Who being a family show is that it ends up preventing authenticity. By which I specifically mean there's no damn way that Donna's response to some of the things The Doctor says wouldn't have been "Fuck off."

[yandere-sins]

Charming the Tyrant Emperor

A new isekai story from me? I know, bonkers! Actually inspired by the blurb I read on an actual isekai manga/manhwa/etc. BUT I liked the idea enough that I didn't read the story so I could write my own yandere version of it, hope you guys enjoy it ♥

Characters: Yandere!Emperor x Isekai!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Yandere, Forced Marriage Trope, Isekai Trope, Depiction of War, Violence, Attempted Murder (not from or on the reader)

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

Sighing, you put down the packaging of the game you just loaded up, having hoped it would give you any clue about what it was all about.

A dark, black box with only the game's title imprinted on it—Fated Encounters—was as helpful as a blindfold in the streets. Thus, you threw it over your shoulder, hearing it plop onto your bed as you stared back at the character creation screen you had worked on for a while.

You had to admit, your character was really damn cute, from the pretty eyes to the custom outfit you put together. But at the same time, not knowing what the game was all about, it was hard to decide what was needed now: stats.

"Weird game," you mumbled, feeling slightly irritated at the lack of direction you had received. The friend who told you about it had simply called it "the best game I have ever played" before leaving you behind at the game store after having pushed the box into your hand. They felt very off lately, but you didn't know why. So you thought maybe if you played their favorite game, you could get them out of their shell and to spend time with you again.

Naturally, you could play it safe and just put an equal amount of points in all the stats, but where was the fun in that? You didn't know what occupation your main character had and had no idea what alignment you wanted them to have throughout the run, so you were like a stranded whale when choosing the right stats—utterly helpless.

And out of frustration about it, you decided to say fuck it.

Pressing the button of your controller, you held it until all of the points you were given went into charisma. Who needed strength, magic, defense, and health when you could simply talk your way out of every dangerous situation? Make everyone believe you were innocent and sweet while dodging the possible bullets. With your lack of knowledge about the game, it was the best choice, and if you liked the game, you could still revisit it with better stats next time!

Clicking 'start' almost excited you as you waited for the screen to change from black to an intro cutscene, but instead, another confirmation popped up, asking you, "Are you sure you want to proceed with these choices? Note: All choices have consequences."

"Ominous," you chuckled before hitting the confirmation again. The game made a small sound of acceptance before it finally turned black and stayed this way. Seconds passed, and you started to press all buttons, up, down, left, and right, until finally, you gave up, accepting that all your hard work creating this character had just been in vain, as your system must have frozen.

Frustrated, you forced a manual shut-down of your game system, discarding the controller somewhere on the table before getting up and letting yourself fall head-first into the mattress. What a stupid idea this was, you thought to yourself as you felt the hard box of the game poke your stomach. Anger unleashed upon the poor box as you yanked it out and discarded it on the floor, instant regret overcoming you as you hoped it wasn't broken so you could return the game.

You would definitely not go through all this work again to play it.

No way!

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

You awoke to the sounds of screaming.

Bellowing voices were all around you, yelling at one another, grunting, despairing. The ground beneath you shook with ferocity as the bangs of explosions hit you from both sides, barely shielded by the ringing in your ears. Alerted, you pushed your hands into the surface beneath you and felt your fingers dig into what felt like loose earth or sand while you tried to focus. What had happened? You only just fell asleep after being so frustrated with the game you couldn't play. Why had the atmosphere changed so drastically?

Gripping your head, a surge of pain went through you, a nasty gash on your forehead wetting your palm. The red was striking even through your blurred vision as you gazed at your hand, and reality was still hard to grasp as your senses suddenly cleared, letting in the unmistakable sounds of war all around you.

Hastily, you looked around, trying to focus on one thing and all at the same time. This place didn't look like your home at all! There was neither a bed nor your gaming setup around that clearly marked it as your room. Instead, you saw dirt everywhere, flames rising from bushes and trees, and the worst part—bodies.

Countless humanoid bodies lay in the dirt, the ground stained with what could only be blood. Most were face down, arrows sticking from their backs, spears slammed through the armor some of them wore. Some of their heads were rolled to the side, staring at you lifelessly, and for some reason, you were overcome by guilt, as if it had been your fault they died. You grabbed yourself by the arms as you were overcome by the horror, finally realizing you were on some battlefield, wounded and terrified, with no idea how you got there.

Had your country been attacked while you slept? How could you have not noticed it? Where was your family, why did these bodies look so medieval? What the hell was going on?!

Next to you, another person stirred, clad in black armor and clearly in pain. You crawled over to the knight, helm covering his face while he clutched his side.

"Hey! Hey, stay calm!" you called out to him, and he jerked at your voice, probably just as scared as you were. "It's going to be alright," you assured him, looking his body over for wounds until you noticed the gaping opening his hand tried to press down on.

"It's okay," you kept assuring him, hoping he wouldn't notice the wavering in your voice. You had no idea if it would be okay or not. Honestly, it looked pretty bad for him. All you knew was that one should press down on wounds to stop the bleeding, and although you felt bad, you put more pressure on top of the knight's hand, hoping that would help.

"Why..." he grunted, and you gulped.

"We have to stop the bleeding so we can get you to someone who can help! A-A doctor... healer, something like that! I don't know, I'm sorry! This is all so strange, I have no idea what's going on! I'm doing my best! I just don't know what to do! I'm so so sorry!"

Your whole body was wracked with shivers as you tried to assist and help this person somehow when the sound of his voice suddenly cut through your panic in a way you didn't expect.

He chuckled.

"No, why would you help me?"

"You're hurt..." you whispered in response, saying it before thinking clearly.

"It's war. Would you not want your enemy to be hurt?" he asked, his voice lightening with curiosity. Even if the concept of war was so unfamiliar, only known through stories and history to someone like you, you understood that he meant that hurt and death were inevitable when two sides clashed. Still, it meant very little to you, who couldn't bear these thoughts even though you had to have them.

"War is awful! No one deserves to be in pain or die!" you sobbed, tears having collected in your eyes. This wasn't the right moment for your pity party; after all, this man was probably as good as dead. Yet here you were, making it about yourself and your stupid, conflicted feelings. But this guy was perhaps the same as you, lying in the dirt, scared and frightened. You didn't want the closest thing to an ally you had, to die miserably.

"I don't want this! I don't want you to die! I don't care if you're my enemy! You deserve to live and be happy! Enjoy your life, eat good food, and be in love with someone who loves you just the same! It's not fair! No one should have to die in vain!" you yelled, and it took him a moment before he laughed softly, rolling his head over the ground.

"Your Highness, get away!" someone yelled, the voice clear and strangely familiar as the black knight next to you suddenly rose from his early grave. Even though you both sat on the ground, he towered over you, the shining black of his armor looming like death incarnate. His hand reached up towards your face but instead caught your wrist from where it had touched him. You jolted in surprise, his grip crushing as it wrapped around you. Gasping out in pain, an arrow suddenly came swooshing through the air, cutting close enough to the knight's grip on you that you could feel the wind on your exposed skin around your hand, tearing you out of your fear and pain.

For a moment, his grip softened, and this time, your body responded perfectly, yanking yourself out of his hold and toppling back. It was neither elegant nor careful. It hurt as your elbows crashed onto the ground, your lower back taking most of the blow, but at least you were a few inches away from that strange knight.

Strong arms hooked underneath your body, the presence of many people surrounding you as you were lifted from the ground swiftly. You heard all sorts of armor clanking and clicking as people moved around, but even more so, you were forced to listen to the blood-curdling screams of soldiers being struck down right in front of you.

Was it the black knight or the ones now crowding around you? All of the people here wore silver plates, but you could only see hints of black through the gaps in their formation.

"Your Highness, you need to leave right now! It's too dangerous to remain here!" the soldier that held you from behind yelled over the screams, and without asking for permission, your hand was once again gripped by a bigger one, dragging you after him as he ran.

More knights closed in as you two stumbled in the opposite direction, shouting and attacking enemies behind you while you stumbled over your feet, trying to keep up. Hand lodged tightly in the iron grip of the knight, he didn't look back as he made his way through the soldiers, almost as if his mission wasn't fighting but rather fleeing.

Not so much you. Somehow, you couldn't shake off the need to look back, to assure yourself, to see something you weren't yet in the place to judge.

There he stood amongst the silver knights, flames reflecting in the brilliance of his black armor. You had been sure he had been severely wounded. Yet, he swung around his battle axe effortlessly, striking down the soldiers one after the other as if they were no match for him.

"Hurry, your Highness!" the soldier yelled, tugging you forward repeatedly as the black knight's head appeared to look up. He met your gaze in a bizarre look as it was covered in his helmet, yet you could feel his eyes drilling into you, fixating on yours while he was being attacked.

It was you who had to break the strange eye contact as you were suddenly gripped by your hips and unceremoniously lifted into the air, falling into a saddle on top of a nervously stomping horse. Reigns shoved into your hands, you yelled out in surprise as the animal took off, no regard to its rider's condition, and you could only cling to the reigns and saddle as it gallopped of to who-knows-where.

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

"He keeps advancing towards us, showing no signs of stopping."

"He won't stop no matter how much gold and resources we promised him! Open your eyes, Minister! It's not like he spared any of the cities he rode through during his conquest! They don't call him the "cruel tyrant" for nothing!"

Many men shouted angrily around the large table, making their panic and frustration known as they discussed how to stop the tyrannical approach of the new emperor who reigned over even his own vassal state. From small ministers to military captains, no one knew what to do, and the pressure threatened to overcome all of them. The crown on your head still felt as heavy as the first time they forced you to wear it—unfamiliar, not right. They called you their Queen, yet you didn't feel royal at all.

Because you weren't, you were an imposter.

For all you knew, you had taken over some noble's body while they were attacked by the emperor's forces. That noble turned out to be of quite a high standing, putting you into this awful position of ruling a queendom. No matter how much you asked for information from the people around you, they'd give you weird looks, expecting you to know the answers to your own questions. Still, you couldn't exactly tell them you weren't that person either, not knowing what they'd do with you if that were to happen.

And it was all that stupid game's fault.

You had no idea how this could have possibly happened. "Isekai" was only ever a concept you had seen in stories and games. But when you sat in front of a mirror for the first time, you immediately remembered the face that looked back at you—the character you had created. The disconnect to your body was severe and real; no matter how much you rubbed your face and grimaced at your reflection (the maid giving you apprehensive glances), you had to eventually accept that this body was who you were. Things still didn't make sense, but you tried your best in the new role, although it never felt right.

"If only someone had killed the emperor when they had the chance," one of the ministers noted with a dramatic sigh. All eyes fell on you for just a short moment, making you cower. You couldn't have known! That's what you kept telling yourself. He technically told you he was your enemy, but how would you have known that without playing the game? But you doubted you could have really killed the black knight—the emperor—even if someone had told you that he was your mortal enemy. Even if your body was that of the monarch under attack by the emperor, you didn't have a sword and much less the will to kill someone.

However, your hesitation made you look incapable in everyone else's eyes.

Now, you didn't just have to deal with the upcoming attack—your head still throbbing from the gash whenever you thought about the war—you were also scrutinized by everyone for failing to protect them from the emperor's advances. It was a lot to handle for someone so wholly underprepared as you were. This wasn't your life, but for them, it was all they had ever known.

The door being suddenly thrown open saved you from yet again explaining why you didn't kill the emperor when you had the chance. Why you let him live despite "knowing" who he was. All eyes fell on the butler standing in the doorway, panting heavily, holding up a letter and fanning it in the air with urgency.

"Your Highness!" he yelled through despite the lack of hair. "A letter arrived! A letter from... from... the emperor!"

Gasps went through the rows of people as the one closest to the door jumped up, ripping the letter from the butler and opening it. Some ministers gave each other worried looks, and some stretched their heads towards the one reading the letter as if to see better.

Suddenly, the minister rejoiced, laughing out loudly, and you were uncertain if that was a good or bad sign. He did sound indignant, but at the same time, he seemed to have just solved all the worries in the world.

"An alliance! The emperor wants a marriage alliance with us!"

People sprung from their seats as they cheered, although some of the older ones sent worried glances towards you. "The war is over!" someone yelled, and more of them fell into a chant as they danced around the table. But could it really be that easy?

"Uhm, I'm sorry?" you called out, gathering the attention of those still seated. "The emperor wants to marry who?"

Now, all the eyes were back on you as the cheers died down. The letter was passed towards you, the oldest, wisest minister at your right looking it over, adjusting his monocle to read it properly. Sputtering a little, he lowered the paper again, leaning forward and reaching for your hand, cupping it gently, encouragingly. Yet, you didn't feel comforted at all.

"That would be you, your Highness."

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

Still as the dead, you stood in the forest clearing, waiting. Everyone around you was tense as they waited for the emperor's delegation. But you were long past nervosity. Between the letter and the arranged date to hand you over to the emperor's delegation were months of tears and training.

You tried to revolt and make the people understand that you couldn't possibly marry him! But it all fell on deaf ears when you screamed and raged. Rumors had reached you of how he had killed potential spouses for less. How this was all a facade and how the emperor would still ruthlessly conquer the land that had made you its ruler and then kill you to mock them on top of it. And you had shed many, many tears pleading for your life. Almost everyone had cried with you, chastizing you while their own hearts broke, taking pity on you, and comforting you.

But to these people, you were the only hope they had.

Perhaps you would have conducted yourself more gracefully if you had been their real queen. Accepting your fate and enduring the strict training needed to ensure you were perfect for the emperor. When you asked them to stop pleadingly, they would. But after a brief rest, you were forced to train again, your muscle memory of very little help when all the etiquette wasn't good enough for the empire's standards. It was while you were training that you finally understood something.

Every choice had consequences.

The game had warned you before starting and freezing on you. If you acted up, threw tantrums, raged, and went against what the people wanted, you got nowhere. But instead, if you sympathized with them, asked nicely, and conducted yourself well, you got everything you wanted. Giving them what they desired always ended in you getting your will. All points in charm, right?

So, if you wanted to survive, then you had to find out what the emperor desired. Quickly.

All of your senses were in survival mode, making you seem graceful and dignified while you waited, going through countless scenarios in your head. If he wanted money, you'd tell him how to construct something lucrative from your world. If he wished to reign the world, you'd offer him to conduct peace treaties in his name, having to charm more people so they'd agree. You had devised a solution to almost every problem when birds flew out of the trees, alerted by the incoming caravan.

On your way to the empire, you'd listen intently to the delegate to be prepared. Everything would be fine. You could do it. All points in charm would help you! You had trained yourself for this and made sure you were more aware of people. Everything would be fine!

But you didn't expect to see the black armor that haunted your dreams to lead the delegation, the emperor himself arriving before you the moment his horse stepped out into the clearing.

You drew in your breath sharply before bowing deeply as his horse came to a halt in front of you while your heart raced. The clattering of armor took you back to the war, your body wincing with trauma. You weren't prepared for this, his heavy footsteps shaking your resolve as they approached. Some maids gasped in horror, the soldiers on your side readying their weapons to defend you.

How could they? Everyone knew what he was capable of!

But they loved you too much to not defend you with their life if they had to. So you remained low—for their sake, too. Until a hand reached beneath your chin, cold metal clinging to your skin as your head was lifted, forcing you to face your worst fear.

With you standing straight again, he still towered above you, much like when you met him on the battlefield. His touch lingered as he reached around his head with his free hand, pulling off his helmet. His looks hadn't been much of a surprise as the emperor had sent you his painting along with countless presents once the deal was made. But still. He was devilishly handsome for such a cruel man, with hair as black as his armor and eyes as red as only the fiend could have.

"There you are," he murmured, only meant for your ears. "I've been waiting for this."

"So have I," you replied quickly, not wanting to disgruntle him at the first meeting despite your voice wavering with fear. It wasn't the ideal situation—perhaps there never would be one—but your plan was still solid: find out what he desired and force him to keep you alive to get it.

His gaze shifted from one of your eyes to the other, searching for a lie. But it wasn't. Ever since you realized you couldn't change the fate that was to befall you, only sweeten it, you had waited for the day you'd meet him.

Pleased with his findings, or the lack thereof, his lips cracked into a wide grin, befitting of the cruel tyrant as it paired well with the glint in his eyes to reveal only madness. So far, it had gone well, but you couldn't count on his mood appearing to be favorable. He was as unpredictable as his strategies on the battlefield; that much you had learned already about him. To further fall into his good graces was all you could do.

"I was surprised about your proposal," you spoke calmly, putting some of those charms to work. Reaching up, you pulled the emperor's hand from your chin, instead cupping his palm over your cheek and holding it there. The emperor watched every one of your moves with curious interest, probably expecting you to try and kill him at any given time as well. Almost, you two were alike like this.

"I didn't expect you to want--"

"You."

You forced a grin, chuckling curtly, and his expression sank slightly. "Yes, me. Why me? Why not someone from the empire or the other states? What could you want with little ol' me?"

Lips curled back even more, showing off teeth that seemed almost predatorily sharp before the emperor suddenly burst into laughter, doubling over while still holding your face in his palm. The soldiers around you two were completely taken aback at the emperor's sudden outburst, inching closer while some backed away in fear. He regained his composure quickly, though, bringing his other hand up to cup your face fully now between them as he chuckled, inspecting your face thoroughly.

"You have such a refreshing way of speaking, my dear. Unlike any other noble I've ever met. And I could just eat you up for it." His thumb loosened from the side of his hand, rubbing over your cheeks gently. The metal left a cold smear on your skin, but you forced yourself not to react to it, holding his gaze firmly while you feared that looking away could be your death sentence.

"But that was not the reason," he clarified, and you gave him a small nod, indicating that it was fine with you. "It was what you said on the battlefield. That you didn't want me to die. Me. Do you know how many of our peers disagree on that? Do you know how many I have beheaded for less than wishing for my death?"

"I do not."

He stared at you with this maddening smile on his lips before the emperor's expression suddenly softened, his thumb returning to caress your cheek. "Good," he sighed, sounding almost relieved. "I don't want to scare you. Very well then."

Letting his hands fall from your face, you still didn't feel like grasping the situation completely, but you didn't hold on to him, watching instead as he hiked up his pants, adjusting the armor over his legs before taking a knee in front of you. Everyone—including his side of soldiers—gasped, but the emperor paid them no mind. The boon of the strongest must have been that no matter what he did, he couldn't care less about the opinions of others, and he made it very clear, asking silently for your hand by presenting his own.

There was no reason to refuse him, so you placed yours into his palm, letting it linger as he reached upwards, pushing back the sleeve on your arm. His grip tightened as the bruises you had suffered from your training were exposed, face falling as he looked at the damaged goods that you felt like. Panic rose as you feared his anger, and you quickly reached over to push down the fabric again when his eyes fell from the wounds to yours, overpowering you and pushing the sleeve out of the way.

"I promise to take you as my spouse," he announced solemnly, leaning down to kiss the back of your head.

"To love and honor you, as will you, me," his lips wandered upwards as he muttered the words, kissing the small specks of bruises littering your arm.

"Not to hurt or trouble you," he looked up, lips curling into a cheeky grin as he lightly bit your arm, making you gasp before adding much more quietly, "Unless you like it."

"And protect you until my dying breath."

Finalizing his oath, the emperor quickly got up again, smiling at you like a child on Christmas. You had no idea what kind of awkwardness lay in your own expression, but when he offered his arm, proceeding with the handover, you barely hesitated to link yours with his. As if this new life wasn't surreal enough, you didn't understand his character at all. Was he a terrible tyrant or a kind husband in the making? Mad or simply living up to what people expected of him? Searching for comfort in you or planning something devious and evil?

But before you could ponder these thoughts, you heard a sudden commotion behind your back, making you look back only to see one of your soldiers break out of the protective formation and charge toward your new husband with a dagger raised.

"Die, you monster!" he yelled, aiming for the emperor's back. However, your husband twisted around without letting your arm fall, catching the dagger in his free hand. "Careful," he grumbled. "You could hurt my wife with that."

With a strong yank that you only saw, not felt, the emperor discarded the dagger, his soldiers crowding in and grabbing your knight, kicking his knee until he was doubled over. With an appalled gasp, you detached from your husband's arm, but he caught your hand, pressing his palm to yours and linking your fingers forcefully, every one of his movements deliberate, yet no less oppressing, as if to make a point.

"Tell me what to do with the traitor, my Love," your husband asked, eerily asking for your opinion. You gulped, the life of the knight weighing heavy on your mind like the crown. Looking at the emperor, he was waiting patiently for your decision, but you knew he had no intentions of letting this knight live, and you gulped. You had to survive. You had to put yourself first, even if it hurt.

"I don't want any more bloodshed. It makes me feel terrible," you whispered, looking away in defeat. "But I understand if its what you have to do."

All you had was your charm. You could have pleaded for the knight's life, but if it wasn't what the emperor wanted, you wouldn't convince him and risk your own. The words left you with a heavy heart, but it was the best you could do for yourself. You had to save yourself if you wanted to make any change—and that was hard enough.

"Very well, then," the emperor announced suddenly, turning away from the knight that attacked him, instead wrapping your arm around his again. Confused, you looked back as your husband moved onwards towards the carriage, glimpsing the same confusion in the eyes of the other soldiers.

"You're not going to kill him?" you asked as the emperor signaled for a servant to open the door to the carriage, making sure you had a steady hold on him as he led you into the inside.

"No. You said it makes you unwell. I don't want that."

"But... why?" you asked, feeling a little stupid as you took a seat in the luxurious carriage, much better than the one your state had provided for you to travel to this spot. "Isn't that what you want?"

"Again, you ask about what I want. Is that all you care about?"

You gulped, feeling busted as you watched him climb inside right behind you, his armor making it hard to move, but he managed just fine. Still, his question felt genuine and less like he expected something, so you decided to play dumb.

"Is it not the most important thing for your wife to know?" you mumbled, the subservience in your own question almost making you gag. It was hard to throw away your values, even if, in the age of this game's setting, you had to play along unless you had the strength to rise above.

The moment he sat down, the carriage began to move, your body losing its strength at the unexpected movement. However, sturdy arms caught you, helping you to sit upright again and find the emperor's gaze on you, his expression briefly worried before it grew serious. It felt like you messed up big time, and that so shortly after meeting him, too.

But then the seriousness cracked away again as he smiled, shaking his head softly. "Ridiculous," he mumbled, his eyes flitting up to meet yours again after taking a deep breath. "I just can't be mad at you, no matter how stupid your questions are. Aren't you glad you are such a charmer?"

Yes. Very glad. Very, very glad. At least at that moment.

"Then I will say it once more," he announced. "Make sure to not forget it, as I won't repeat myself a third time."

With comical playfulness, he poked your forehead, making you scrunch up your face, and he laughed at your expression in return.

"When we were on the battlefield, and you told me you didn't want me to die, I realized I couldn't. You may have been simply pitying me or trying to be nice in my last moments, but my body was overcome with vigor as if you had commanded it not to die. That's how sincere your words felt."

He leaned back, but his eyes never left you, even as he took a break from talking to seize you up. You had an inkling that without knowing about your skills yet, all points in charms must have worked back then, too.

"Almost like you put a curse on me..." he added, eyes narrowing as he thought. Gripping your thighs, you realized that, technically, this wasn't good news. Technically, you had caused this mess. All choices had consequences, and you made one without realizing it by telling him not to die.

"You are the only one who wishes for me to live, so I knew you were the only one who could stand by me. And now look what you make of me, no more wars, no bloodshed, just as you demand. Do you know what that means now?"

"That you... want to settle down?" you mumbled, half joking, half unable to think of a better response.

"No." Again, he tapped you on the forehead, and you got a feeling it was his way of reprimanding you.

"I will do as I said, protect you, love you, honor you. As long as you are with me, I will be good. I can't promise to be peaceful all the time, but at least in front of you, I'll keep my vows, and I assume you, too, bear responsibility for taking everything I want from me and replacing it with what you want. Our encounter must have been fate, as nothing could shake me until you came along. So tell me, and I hope you took note, what do I want?"

Silence fell over you two as you tried to work through all the information you had acquired. He'd stop waging war? Would stop the bloodshed? Just because you wanted him to live and he wants to honor his vows in return? This could never undo the harm you knew he had already caused to so many, but it had the potential to better the future.

"You want..." you mumbled, thinking about what it could be. It felt as if it was on the tip of your tongue, but no matter what scenario you recalled playing through in your head, you couldn't find one that fit. No money, no territory, just something he claimed he already told you.

Your eyes widened as you realized it, and the cruel emperor's grin widened madly in response.

"Correct," he murmured, leaning forward until his lips were brushing against yours, his palm returning to cradle your cheek.

"You. I want you."

[davidtennan-t]

It’s been 18 years since Doomsday aired - so that means it’s been 18 years since the Doctor met Donna for the first time. Who would have thought all these years later, they’d be family ❤️

[noblehouseofgay]

Enjoying the view?

Based on this post (taller regulus)

Jegulus microfic w/ platonic moonwater

Slightly nsfw

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

"Alright, should work." Remus picked up the vial and handed it to Regulus. "If it kills me my brother will kill you."

"You helped make it, Black. Mr 'a year ahead in potions' should be confident in his work don't you think?" Remus smirked. "Is there, perhaps, another reason you're delaying?" "Shove it, Lupin." Regulus downed the purple liquid.

It was salty and thick, he coughed a bit after getting it down. "Fuck that's nasty." Remus shrugged and started cleaning up the workspace.

"Oh this is fucking weird." Remus looked back over at Regulus. He couldn't help but laugh a bit. "No kidding."

Both boys were practically the same height now, almost eye to eye. "You know, Lupin, I could get used to this. Taller than my boyfriend and brother? Plus the gender euphoria." The black haired boy stretched a little. "We just might have to make this permanent." "Yeah, said brother and boyfriend would kill me for letting you do that." "You're no fun, Lupin. Whatever, I've only got a couple hours to use this to my advantage."

Regulus left the library and headed for the gryffindor common room. This is so disorienting. Is this how Remus sees the world?

Regulus whispered the password (given to him by James of course) and headed for his boyfriend's dorm. Remus assured him Sirius was out with the girls tonight, so James should be all alone. Lucky him.

He opened the door, finding his boyfriend standing over a desk. "Hey love, that you?" Regulus smirked and walked up behind his lover. "It is." He gently put his hand around James' waist, turning him towards Regulus. "Hey-" James' eyes slowly moved up to meet Regulus'. The now shorter boy couldn't seem to breathe. Regulus just watched, a smirk never leaving his face.

"Enjoying the view, baby?" "I- h- how- god- what?- holy fuck-" Regulus laughed a little. He slotted his knee in between James' legs and watched as his face turned redder. "Is this how you feel all the time? Because it's really a power trip, I'll tell you that." Regulus gently bent James back against the desk. "You've been so quiet, love. Anything to say?"

"I need you to fuck me. Like immediately." James choked out the words, barely getting through them as Regulus pushed his knee against the bulge in James' pants. He kissed up James' neck and got close to his ear. "I would love to."

[sentientsky]

there’s something about the series of doctordonna activation words that 14 uses in the star beast that sends chills down the length of my body.

“grief. fingerprint. susurration.”

cause they’re all the leftover bits, right? grief as the aftershocks of love. fingerprint as residual touch. susurration as the quiet murmurs that remain when all other sound dies.

and it makes sense. because the process itself is a sparking of kindling, a resurrection of the doctordonna—of the leftover bits of time lord still lodged in the marrow of her bones

[piniatafullofblood]

my roman empire is the way no companion ever tells them no. it’s icarus rewritten. Not one of them had a safe introduction to the doctor. their lives or their families lives are risked. it’s the most terrifying experience of their life. but the box is bigger on the inside, and that’s incomprehensible, and the humans will always reach towards the sun in an effort to hold it

. everyone who’s seen the show will always wish that they were the one he would pick because at the end of the day we want to see more. the promise of more, of sights we’ve never seen and worlds we’ve never visited is a thought well enough to make any human sacrifice their life. the companions were doomed from the beginning, and i think they knew it.

[regheart]

there's something i find particularly annoying in this fandom and it's the way purebloods are written as highly sophisticated extremely rich and straight up a rip off of regency period novels

i understand the choice of this specific portrayal, i can see it as an approximation to historical drama, where the social restrictions are compelling and are relevant to the story, and a good writer can make any concept believable and good

HOWEVER as much as the worldbuilding on wizarding costumes (and a lot of other things) is extremely inconsistent and gets progressively worse towards the later three books, the implications that i see don't point towards this version of a sophisticated performatic elite who interacts only with itself

while i tend to see the blood status in the harry potter universe as a distinction of class and not at all a distinction of race, i don't think the difference is, in practice, as marked as it is in real world contexts, mostly because of how numerically small and insulated the wizarding community is

this post is part of my personal vendetta against purebloods as charming aristocrats & what appears to be the necessity of writing each and all of them as so very well spoken and politically savvy and never-caught-dead-speaking-to-a-half-blood

for once, the sacred twenty-eight is extra canon information and is disputed IN UNIVERSE, because it was anonymously published and received backlash for the inclusion (weasley, ollivander) and exclusion (crabbe, goyle, potter) of certain names

the malfoys are the only extremely rich family we see in canon. extra canon information tells us they made money before the statute of secrecy by trading with muggles

compare that to the potters who are also very rich (there's no scale to tell us who is the richer family), but made most of their money from the invention of sleakezy in the 20th century

the blacks are also implied to be wealthy: sirius manages to live off his inheritance after buying harry an expensive broom, and he says his grandfather likely paid for an order of merlin

there's a lot to be said about the blacks (e.g. they should have at least a couple more properties other than grimmauld place), but the big picture and the similarity with the gaunts (not about the incest, stop fixating on that) suggest they were a family in decadence by the time sirius was growing up

i believe that the implication is that neither of them had a proper job, which creates a similarity with gentry, but gentry lived off rentals and while it is possible they had a country state i don't think grimmauld place was making a lot of money

lucius malfoy also didn't work and spent a portion of his time being a school counselor (and obviously not being paid for it, as it was a way to exercise his political power over the main learning institution in his community)

it's also extra canon that the nott family had equal footing with the malfoys, so we can assume that crabbe, goyle, parkinson and bulstrode were slightly beneath them, either in social standing or money, despite the later two being part of the sacred twenty-eight (or it could appear to be so because pansy and milicent are girls)

the weasleys are obviously the main example of a poor sacred twenty-eight family, as were the gaunts

the crouch family was most like rich (they could afford a house elf), but it's likely that most of that money came from mr. crouch having a high level ministry job. his family and connections were probably an advantage to getting the job, but it's possible he wouldn't be able to maintain the lifestyle without work

longbottom, prewett and macmillan are families that appear to be very traditional, but not remarkably wealthy

other working members of the sacred twenty-eight are: horace slughorn (school teacher, but it can be argued that teaching hogwarts is a prestigious position), garrick ollivander (wand maker and shop owner, but, again, the only wand maker, which holds a certain prestige in itself), mr. burke (shop owner), arthur weasley (ministry employee), frank longbottom and kingsley shacklebolt (both aurors). amycus and alecto carrow are also temporary hogwarts teachers

the blacks married out of the sacred twenty-eight many times (max, gamp, crabbe, potter)

all of these people and every single muggleborn goes to the same school, buys magical supplies at the same place, drinks from the same pubs, etc. that alone should serve as evidence that there aren't many exclusive pureblood hangouts around

the only place that seems to attract the malfoys (arguably the richest and most important pureblood family in the 90s) and not most other people, is the knockturn alley, which is hardly a high brow sophisticated spot

except for malfoy and flint, no slytherin quidditch player during the 90s is in the sacred twenty-eight, so that's hardly a criterion for making it into the team

mulciber is not a sacred twenty-eight name, they could very well be half-bloods

tom riddle and severus snape were half-blood students who formed ties with purebloods while in school and held blood supremacist views, assimilation to a certain level was possible

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Before the Sacking, some noble houses would sponsor witcher schools. It was a show of wealth and prestige, which also had the added benefit of putting one's territories higher on the witchers' list of priorities.

Of course, the sponsors abandoned them when the witchers' numbers dwindled too low to prioritize any territory.

Thus, it was a shock to all of the wolves when they received a letter from the Viscount of Lettenhove offering them a sponsorship contract. Was this a joke? A twisted plot to kill the rest of them? Did this Viscount know they couldn't possibly offer him any sort of special treatment?

Despite their doubts, the wolves sent a representative to Lettenhove. Geralt was the most likely to survive a trap, and his reputation couldn't possibly get lower if he had to fight his way out.

Geralt braced himself for the worst. He had his guard up as he arrived in Lettenhove, as he was received graciously, as he met the surprisingly young and handsome Viscount.

"You must be tired from your long journey. I have a bath and food prepared."

"I'd rather see to the contract first."

The Viscount placed a sheet of parchment before him, and Geralt read the contract. He read it again. A third time to be sure.

"What the fuck is this?!?" Geralt growled.

"I thought the conditions reasonable."

"It's completely one-sided!" Geralt waved the contract in his face, like that would help the Viscount see the situation clearer. "You can't be serious!"

The contract, if you could even call it that, basically guaranteed an allowance for the wolf school and safe lodging for them in Lettenhove or any of the Viscount's properties.

In exchange for...stories. The wolves would have to visit the Viscount to tell him about their hunts.

What the fuck?

"I am deadly serious," the Viscount responded, and Geralt could tell it was the truth. "You see, witcher, I have an excess of responsibilities, so I lack the freedom to travel. However, I have the means to pay someone to share their experiences with me. I thought 'why not pay someone who actually needs the money?' You witchers are famously underpaid."

Geralt stared at the noble uncomprehendingly. If the Viscount was looking for entertainment, Why not hire a bard instead?

"Should you need time to consider it, you may stay as long as you like. Your rooms--"

"We'll sign."

The Viscount's proper facade cracked, and the man beamed like a child. "REALLY?!?"

Geralt nodded. He couldn't understand the Viscount, but he also couldn't deny that he and his brothers needed the money.

I LOVE THIS I LOVE THIS I LOVE THIS!!!

[inky-duchess]

Fantasy Guide to Dukes and Duchesses

This new series will offer an indepth view of each noble title in the standard European hierarchy of noble titles. Here we will discuss what they are, their lands, their jobs and everything you need to know when writing them.

What is a Duke exactly?

A Dukedom is the highest rank in most noble hierarchies. The Duke rules a section of land within the Kingdom known as a Duchy, for example the Duke of Lancaster or can be a standalone title, Duke of Rothesay. A Dukedom is inherited through the family line, from father to so but the title is bestowed on the by the monarch. Monarchs can also give their children Dukedoms, and often do. For example the second son of the King of France would be the Duc d'Orleans.

Titles, Titles

The Duke is the highest ranking in the land. They are the first among the nobility, among the wealthiest, with the most prestige. A Duke is referred to as 'Your Grace'. If one is meeting a Duke in a social setting, nobles would call them Duke whilst underlyings would call them "Your Grace". A Duke would also hold subsidiary such as an Earldom or two, a Barony or three. But would go by Duke as it is the highest title. Fun fact, Carlos Fitz-James Stuart (pic above) has the most titles:

He is: Carlos Fitz-James Stuart, Duke of Alba, Grandee of Spain, Duke of Berwick, Grandee of Spain, Duke of Huéscar, Grandee of Spain, Duke of Liria and Jérica, Grandee of Spain, Count-Duke of Olivares, Grandee of Spain,Marquess of Carpio, Grandee of Spain, Marquess of La Algaba, Marquess of Barcarrota, Marquess of Castañeda, Marquess of Coria, Marquess of Eliche, Marquess of Mirallo, Marquess of la Mota, Marquess of Moya, Marquess of Osera, Marquess of San Leonardo, Marquess of Sarria, Marquess of Tarazona, Marquess of Valdunquillo, Marquess of Villanueva del Fresno, Marquess of Villanueva del Río, Count of Lemos, Grandee of Spain, Count of Lerín, Grandee of Spain, Constable of Navarre, Count of Miranda del Castañar, Grandee of Spain, Count of Monterrey, Grandee of Spain, Count of Osorno, Grandee of Spain, Count of Andrade, Count of Ayala, Count of Casarrubios del Monte, Count of Fuentes de Valdepero, Count of Fuentidueña, Count of Galve, Count of Elves, Count of Modica, Count of San Esteban de Gormaz, Count of Santa Cruz de la Sierra, Count of Villalba, Viscount of la Calzada, Lord of Moguer.

The Family of the Duke

The wife of a Duke is a Duchess. If a Duke is married to a man, while there is no real world examples, I would personally say they would take one of those other subsidiary titles I mentioned above. Same thing with a ruling Duchess and her wife. However, a ruling Duchess's husband usually sticks with whatever title he came with. The heir of the Duke usually inherits their parent's next highest title, usually an Earldom. The other children are styled as Lord/Lady Firstname.

The Role of the Duke

As the Duke is leader of the Duchy, which is a large section of the kingdom. They are in control of this section, the highest power in law and order, politics and all things in that section with only the monarch above. They handle administration at the highest level, raising troops from their duchy for the crown in times of war, see the collection of taxes and sometimes they might even advise the monarch if they are offered a place of the monarch's council. They would also attend the monarch at their coronation.

Cribs

Dukes like a lot of nobility would have multiple houses, manors, estates etc. Their homes would be the grandest in the land and the social hubs for the Duchy and even the country. A Duke would sometimes live at court when invited but would also have the homes in the capital. This vast portfolio can become a source of income as the Duke can rent them out or a handy way to shelf relatives who depended on them.

[aisiedaisie]

hello!! I was wondering about if you'd be interested in writing a regulus black / sirius black x reader ff where reader is learning french but is terribly horrendous at it

No pressure pooks🙏

Hello hello~!!! Thank you, thank you, thank you for this idea!!! As soon as I saw this ask I knew I had to write it immediately. Now, like the reader in this fic, my French is terrible... I haven’t touched it in years— aside from the occasional Duolingo lesson— so I’m sure my grammar will be all over the place. Hopefully, it’s not too bad, but fingers crossed!

Paring: Sirius Black x Fem!Reader

WC: 1.2k

How has it come to this?

You’re perched on the couch in the cozy but slightly chaotic living room of your shared flat, flanked by Sirius and his younger brother, Regulus. Sirius— your boyfriend of six months —leans forward, scribbling something onto a notepad, his dark hair tumbling into his face as he mutters phrases under his breath. Beside you, Regulus sits cross-legged with the air of a reluctant tutor, his sharp features softened by uncharacteristic patience. 

Together, they are attempting what feels impossible: cramming basic French into your overwhelmed brain before you face what you can only describe as a gauntlet— meeting the Black family matriarch.

The mere thought of her sends a shiver down your spine. 

When she found out Sirius was in a relationship—and that she hadn’t been informed— she had, predictably, thrown a fit.

The result? An invitation, that felt more like a summons, to the infamous Black family home for Christmas. As if meeting your boyfriend’s parents weren’t already intimidating enough, there was a catch: she was said to be excruciatingly, almost maliciously picky.

Sirius hadn’t minced words about it, either. “She won’t like you,” he’d said bluntly the night the invitation, if you could call it that, had arrived. “Don’t take it personally. She doesn’t like anyone.”

Which was, of course, impossible to not take personally.

So here you were, cramming vocabulary in a desperate attempt to win even a sliver of her approval. If learning French wasn’t already difficult enough, doing it under the critical eye of the Black brothers was verging on impossible.

“Non, non,” Regulus corrects gently, his tone calm but firm as he watches frustration creep into your features.

You glare at the notepad in Sirius’ lap. The word rencontrer stares back at you like a stubborn enemy, taunting you with its refusal to stick. Sirius seems to sense your despair, because he sets his pen down and shifts closer, his hand moving in soothing circles over your back.

“I’m never going to get this right,” you groan, dropping your face into your hands. The muffled words escape from between your fingers. “Spanish wasn’t this hard. Why is this so hard?”

“You’re doing much better than you think, love,” Sirius says, his voice warm and low, a balm against your growing nerves.

“She might not even say anything in French,” Regulus offers, his tone neutral as though trying not to spook you.

“But it’s her first language,” you counter, peeking at him from between your hands with a pleading look.

Sirius exhales, setting the notepad aside entirely. “You’ll be fine,” he assures you, pulling you gently against his side. You don’t resist. Resting your head on his shoulder feels infinitely better than wrestling with foreign syllables.

“Honestly, you’ll probably win over our dad faster than her anyway,”

“But it’s your mom,” you mumble, the thought of disappointing her settling heavy in your chest.

“She’s probably making a fuss because she needs something to complain about,” Regulus says dryly, his mouth quirking in a half-smile. He gestures toward Sirius with a nod. “And let’s be real... he doesn’t care about her opinion.”

You let out a heavy sigh, knowing he’s right. You’ve heard enough about Sirius’ tumultuous relationship with his parents to know their approval— or lack thereof —means little to him. Still, it doesn’t ease the gnawing anxiety in your stomach. The idea of stepping into that house, of facing her scrutiny, feels like walking into a viper pit.

“Why don’t you try again?” Regulus suggests gently, patting your knee in what you suspect is meant to be a comforting gesture. Though awkward, the effort is endearing. “It’s probably just nerves messing you up.”

You exhale deeply, then nod. Sitting here with them helps—at least somewhat—but their fluency feels like a spotlight highlighting your every misstep. You don’t want to keep fumbling in front of them, even if they’re patient about it.

“C’est un plaisir de vous re—” The words stumble awkwardly on your tongue, frustration bubbling over. “FUCK!” you burst out, dragging out the offending syllable slowly. “Rencontrer, Madame Black.”

Sirius loses it, muffling his laughter behind his hand while Regulus shoots him a sharp glare, clearly unimpressed with his amusement.

“Rencontrer,” Regulus repeats slowly, his voice calm and encouraging.

“Rencontrer,” you echo, focusing hard to mimic his deliberate pronunciation.

“Perfect,” Sirius chimes in, his grin softening as he finally reins in his giggles. “Now just a bit faster, love.”

You shoot him a look, your narrowed eyes more playful than annoyed. “I feel like I’m just free entertainment for you right now.”

Sirius smirks, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your temple. “You’re always free entertainment for me.”

“Je t’aime tellement,” he adds quickly, the French phrase rolling off his tongue effortlessly.

You roll your eyes in exasperation. “Je te déteste tellement,” you counter, a smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth.

Sirius freezes, his expression twisting into mock offense. “YOU CAN BARELY SAY RENCONTRER, BUT YOU CAN TELL ME YOU HATE ME?!?” His voice rises incredulously, his hands flying up in sheer disbelief.

Regulus lasts all of two seconds before dissolving into laughter. “How do you even know how to say that?” he manages between wheezing breaths.

You shrug nonchalantly. “You two say it all the time.”

Sirius lets out an exaggerated groan, throwing his head back as Regulus dissolves into laughter again, shaking so hard he nearly falls off the couch.

“Oh my God,” Regulus wheezes, doubling over with laughter. “The one fluent phrase you know is I hate you!” His laughter turns into something closer to a breathless gasp, tears glistening in the corners of his eyes. His sheer amusement is contagious, and despite your frustration, you can’t help but crack a smile.

“Just—just don’t say that to our mom right off the bat,” Sirius interjects, fighting his own grin as he waves a hand. “If she says something awful, then by all means, go for it, but—”

You whirl toward him, eyes wide in mock outrage. “I would never!”

“Oh no, please do,” Regulus manages, wiping the tears from his face with the heel of his hand. “I’d pay good money to see that.”

“Je te déteste… you both,” you mutter, your attempt to insult them in French as clumsy as it is endearing. The effort only sets them off again, Sirius and Regulus laughing so hard you can’t help but join in.

“Je t'aime aussi, mon cœur,” Sirius teases, his voice full of affection as he leans down to press a kiss to the top of your head.

“Get a room,” Regulus groans, though the lack of any real annoyance in his tone makes his words land more as a joke.

“You’re in our home,” Sirius fires back without missing a beat.

That’s it— you lose it. Laughter bubbles out of you, breaking through the tension that had knotted your shoulders all evening. Sirius smirks triumphantly at your reaction, his arm pulling you closer, while Regulus just groans again, throwing himself back against the couch with dramatic flair.

In this moment, as the three of you laugh together, the anxiety about meeting the Black family fades ever so slightly. 

It will return, but for now, there’s only warmth, humor, and the feeling that maybe— just maybe —you can get through this together.

 Hopefully…

[paradox-n-bedrock]

River and Donna interacting in Silence in the Library kills me a little bit because both their worlds have just shifted off kilter. River's gone far enough back in the Doctor's timeline that she's found the one that doesn't know her yet, and who looks right through her. Donna's met someone from the Doctor's future who doesn't know her at all, but knows of her enough to say her name with awe and sorrow.

i just think if they're doing post-library big finish audios with River, it would be neat to get one with her and Donna ending up on an adventure and getting to chat a bit more

[lilyslark]

sirius really spent 12 years in solitary confinement with nothing but dementors for company, only to be locked up in his abusive childhood home for a year, and then murdered by his own cousin the one time he left it to protect harry.

it’s no wonder that sirius was such a healthier parental figure to harry during goblet of fire. he may have been alone and on the run, he may have been forced to live in a cave and to eat rats, but at least he was free.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

You're mine now, old man.

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