#am i a legacy or am i something to be mocked

[sonicnurse]

i wish i could buy back the woman you stole.

i wish i could buy buy the woman you stole

[demilypyro]

It's been fascinating seeing the reaction to the poll. The Destiel fans seem to think their ship deserves to stay popular and relevant just because... it used to be popular and relevant, I guess? Reading these tags has such a flavor of entitlement, it's really something.

It's like they're not realizing that the standards for what qualifies as good representation, or even a good show, have shifted in the last 10 or so years. Not realizing that a lot of people who were here back then, like me, never cared for Supernatural, and don't agree it was important at all, and would not be interested in celebrating it. Not realizing that other fandoms have been happening around them, and that some, like in the case of Mobile Suit Gundam, have legacies that reach back to decades before Supernatural was even on the air.

Destiel is such a product of its time. It's a fanon ship that, as I recall, was strongly disliked by its show's staff, acknowledged only because the fans demanded it so much. The ending of Supernatural was widely mocked, and the show is now mostly remembered as that meme people learn the news through.

Sulemio meanwhile had the full, joyous support of its staff, and was canon since the first episode of Gundam Witch. The whole show's plot revolved around this pairing. The Gundam franchise hit record sales numbers during and after the show. Sulemio brought hundreds if not thousands of new people into the mecha audience, and got many of them interested in the hobby of building Gunpla. Suletta and Miorine being canonically married even stood out politically, because gay marriage is not legal in Japan.

Is this not progress? Is this not worth celebrating? Why cling to the old and busted when the new hotness is doing such great things?

"Be serious", they say. But I am serious. I've been serious the whole time.

Maybe it's not for me to understand.

[flawseer]

"#21 - Ancient", follow-up

I'm not going to be able to finish Smaugust #23 today, so that will have to wait until tomorrow. Apologies.

Instead, for a change of pace, let's talk about something different. I've seen a few reactions to my submission for day 21 that wondered what on earth must have possessed Secretkeeper to romantically pursue Morrowseer, and what that must have been like. Did they love each other? Was there any tenderness or affection between them? I figured I should give you my take on them.

I believe that Morrowseer--somewhere deep within his black, twisted lump of a heart--did indeed have feelings for Secretkeeper. You can kind of see this in the Prisoners short where he very unfavorably compares Farsight to Secretkeeper and sings the praises of the latter. He holds her in high esteem and seems to value her intelligence. He probably really wanted to have a meaningful relationship with her.

Unfortunately, he is wracked with the burden of having to be Morrowseer; a bitter, deeply unpleasant, emotionally shallow old dragon incapable of the humility required to be compassionate. For all the prestige and clout that Morrowseer has as an elite member of the Queen's court, his social life seems very empty and sad. He has no friends, only co-workers (who don't like him) and underlings (who butter him up), and I think he feels incomplete because of that. To fill this void, he fixates on asserting his importance and is desperate to maintain his status. He deeply desired to be the father of the prophecy Nightwing--which would have cemented him as the one dragon who saved his tribe--and the fact that he failed to sire a child in time not once (necessitating Starflight), but twice (necessitating Fatespeaker) eats him up on the inside. He perceives this as a huge failure, and Mastermind (who succeeded where he failed) picked up on this and mocks him for it. His entire conversation with Farsight reeks of "I am mad and jealous that your kid is special! It should have been mine!! Goddamnit why wasn't it mine!??"

For Secretkeeper's side... no, I don't think there's any deep affection there. I don't think she anticipated this relationship happening in the first place. But she did want to have a child, and when Morrowseer approached her, she weighed her options. If one can stomach living with someone like Morrowseer--who always has to be the most important person in the room--it's not an entirely bad deal. You get a lot of social clout as the Queen's right hand's mate, and since Morrowseer is exempt from the strict food rationing policy, you also get to eat. And he actively wants to have children to secure his legacy, which, if that's what you want as well, is pretty good. So in my mind she probably just went "Yeah, I can probably make this work. I'm sure he's not as bad to be around when he likes you." and agreed out of convenience.

But I doubt she loved him. There isn't really a reality where I can reconcile "She loved him" and "She kept their shared child a secret from him because she did not trust him". The only thing Secretkeeper genuinely loved about Morrowseer was that she was able to have Moonwatcher. So she stuck it out for her daughter, and I don't think she was upset for very long when Morrowseer died. She might have even felt a sense of relief that she didn't have to keep lying anymore.

I've seen people point to the fact that Secretkeeper felt a desire to tell Moonwatcher who her father was, and then posit that this means she did have feelings for him. I'm not sure I really agree. All that tells me is that she has feelings for Moonwatcher and wants her to know the truth. But if the truth is "I didn't really love your father, he was an awful and unpleasant person and I was just with him so I could have you", it becomes understandable why she would choose not to tell her.

That's my read of the situation anyway. Yours might be entirely different!

[justauthoring]

the winner takes it all.

in which, leander prewett is a prick and sebastian shows him not mess with his girl.

a/n: i truly am the queen of being late to the partyyyyyyyyyyyy (ive wanted to write for sebastian since hogwarts legacy came out but just finally got around to finally writing for him :) )

warnings: leander prewett bashing because i said so :), being drugged?

pairing: sebastian sallow x f!slytherin!reader

“I don’t need to have eyes to know you’re staring, Sebastian.”

Ominis’ rather bland comment pulls Sebastian from the spiraling thoughts that had been coursing through his mind, a blink of the eye as he shifts, turning to face his long time friend with a frown. 

“I’m not staring,” Sebastian argues, voice sharper than he meant it to be. Guilt runs through him when he realizes he’s being unfairly cross with Ominis, a boy that despite all has had to deal with Sebastian’s rather cross moods as of late and in the grand scheme of things, has done so with very little complaint.

“Sorry,” Sebastian sighs after a moment of silence passes, shoulders sinking. “It’s just…”

Ominis sets his hand on Sebastian’s shoulder across the table, squeezing reassuringly. “You don’t need to explain, Sebastian. I understand,” he offers softly, voice warm with what is meant to be comfort. Sebastian, despite the hurt in his heart, does feel himself ease, even if only a little, at Ominis’ words. The boy has always been exceptionally good at understanding others and knowing what to say to help someone—something Sebastian often found he lacked in retrospect. But then again, given who Ominis was, it made complete sense for him to understand and see things other’s couldn’t (even if he lacked the actual sight to do so).

“I just worry you’ll do something rash,” Ominis adds tentatively, as if afraid of Sebastian’s reaction. 

But Sebastian isn’t offended—honestly, he’s been rather scared of his own limits as of late. Especially when he was faced with that mocking grin and gaze that seemed to scream; I beat you.

It all started two days ago when, instead of meeting Sebastian in your shared common room as you normally did, you never showed up. The act was odd but Sebastian had brushed it off as a simple lack of communication, figuring you’d headed to the Great Hall ahead of him for whatever reason since Anne had assured him you weren’t in your room. Maybe you forgot to let him, he figures; the possibilities of why you’d left early were endless and it wasn’t like Sebastian wasn’t capable of walking the halls without you so he’d shrugged it off and joined Ominis and Anne instead.

It was really when he entered the Great Hall that everything went wrong.

Despite his brush off earlier, the second he was in the hall, his eyes had strained to search for you, missing the familiar and comfortable conversation he could find in you. He missed seeing your face first thing and making you laugh with one of his silly quips or light teasing, watching you stuff your face full of food because you couldn’t possibly just choose one thing and rather had to have it all and—

And all of that seemed to feel a lot worse when he finally found you and saw you sat at not only the wrong table but with Leander Prewett of all people. If that wasn’t bad enough, you were practically sitting on his lap, his arm wrapped firmly around your waist as you cuddled into his side, giggling as the boy practically fed you.

Sebastian’s feet had moved on their own, despite Anne’s worried call after him and Ominis trying to grab him (because despite not being able to see what Sebastian had, he’d known the boy long enough to know something was terribly wrong). Neither of them had mattered in that moment as Sebastian blindly made his way over to the Gryffindor table, ignoring the curious pairs of eyes that watched him, marching straight up to you and Leander. The latter lazily glanced up at him, looking entirely too smug and pleased about himself as your eyes slowly flickered over to him, blinking, before smiling; “Sebastian!”

The way you’d called his name sounded all wrong. Although you looked pleased, a bright grin on your face, your eyes weren’t sparkling with the mischief he’d come to expect from you and rather you looked dazed.

Lovesick. The word made Sebastian want to throw up.

“Can we help you, Sallow?” Leander grinned, tilting his head in mock curiosity.

Sebastian’s lips part, but he hesitates, bewildered. His eyes flicker from Leander, to you, to the grip he has on you, to the way you’re holding him. “What… what the bloody hell is this?”

“Whatever do you mean?” Leander asks, voice sickly sweet. “Y/N and I were just enjoying breakfast together, weren’t we, love?” And to add to it all, Leander presses a kiss to your cheek and what shocks Sebastian most of all is that you don’t push him away or slap him or anything—you… you respond to the kiss.

Now, it wasn’t like you hated Leander. You knew of Sebastian’s… distaste towards the boy, and that Anne and Ominis in one way or another felt the same, though just not as much. You didn’t care for the boy either, as you’ve told Sebastian plenty, but you’d told him plenty of times not to be too mean or cruel or at least, try to get along with him.

Sebastian feels like he’s going crazy—was this why? Did you want him to at least try and get along with Leander because all along you’d had a secret crush on him or something? 

Had Sebastian misread everything?

The walks together every morning? The late nights spent together? The lingering touches? Longing looks? Flirts and teases and…—

“That’s right,” you grin at Leander, brushing at his bright, red hair and smiling. 

“But…” Sebastian swears he sounds more pathetic than he ever has… he certainly feels it. Watching you stare at Leander with that lovesick expression, smiling and touching him and… had Sebastian just never seen it? Had he been that blind by his own emotions? “You weren’t in the common room this morning,” is what he eventually manages, though it’s rather pointless.

It was obvious where you were.

“Oh,” you call out, blinking, as if you’d just remembered—oddly, that hurts the most. That you’d… forgotten about him. “Sorry Sebastian, I had such an urge to see Leander this morning and… well, I’m glad I did. Because I was finally able to tell him of my feelings,” you smile at him, cupping his cheek. “And i’ve never been so happy to hear he returned them.”

Sebastian’s lips part, his gaze shifting to Leander who’s watching him carefully.

The glare is clear. The meaning is plain.

I win.

Thankfully Anne is flanking his side before he can make more of an embarrassment of himself, grabbing Sebastian firmly by the arm and offering you a small, albeit bewildered smile and a glare at Leander before leading Sebastian away.

It had been two days since then and you hadn’t left Leander’s side once.

The only time you were alone was in the classes you didn’t share with him, and despite the fact that Sebastian had luckily shared one of those classes with you, his hopes at finding out some sort of answer had been quickly squashed when you spent the entire class in a daze. You hadn’t paid attention to the professor at all and spent your time staring off in a blissful, oblivious smile, ever so often whispering Leander’s name under your breath.

Sebastian was heartbroken. And angry. And hurt. And everything in between.

“I want to,” Sebastian admits to Ominis as he pulls himself from the memory. But, then, he sighs. “I won’t though. If… Y/N is happy, well, I guess there’s nothing I can do about that.”

Ominis frowns. “You’re not going to fight it even a little?”

Sebastian turns to him, confused; “you just said you didn’t want me doing that.”

“I just don’t want you to do anything rash,” Ominis argues, shaking his head. “It all still feels so strange to me. I mean, had Y/N given any sort of inclination about her feelings for Leander? I certainly don’t remember her saying anything and neither does Anne.”

Sebastian pauses, “well, no… I guess not. But maybe it was because we’d been clear how we felt about him.”

“Still,” Ominis expresses, leaning forward. “It’s so sudden. She went to bed fine and then woke up that morning and she’s barely spoken two words to us since. We were once her best friends, no?”

Sebastian had been so caught up in his own hurt he hadn’t even begun to think about how Ominis and Anne must be feeling. They were your best friends just as much as they were his after all and it wasn’t just Sebastian you’d steered clear of… you’d been avoiding all three of them like they were the plague. 

Sebastian sighs; “I think she’s just—”

“—She’s been poisoned!”

Both Ominis and Sebastian rear their heads back in surprise at both Anne’s words and her very sudden arrival, not to mention the loud bang that echoes as she slams the box in her hands onto the table with no care for those around. Some Slytherins nearby send her glares but she ignores them, her wide eyes strictly on both Sebastian and Ominis as she pants, out of breath.

“Anne,” Ominis calls, blinking. “What are you talking about? Who?”

“Y/N,” she all but breathes, turning to Sebastian who’s sat beside her. “Y/N’s been poisoned.”

Sebastian’s brows furrowed; “what the bloody hell are you talking about?”

“Look,” she calls, pushing the box in her hands forward. Sebastian eyes it as she takes the lid off, taking in the red and gold wrapping paper, before eyeing the wrapped piece of chocolate Anne pulls out of it. 

Sebastian stares; “it’s chocolate.”

Anne huffs, exasperated. “It’s laced,” she explains, pushing it to Sebastian’s face. “Smell it.”

Completely baffled but unable to resist with the way Anne is shoving the chocolate in his face, Sebastian does as he’s told. Leaning forward, he takes a small whiff, almost immediately frowning in confusion when he does; “it smells like… Y/N.”

For a moment, Anne pauses; “well, that fits,” she laughs, before pulling the chocolate closer to her. “It smells different to me. It smells like—” but she hastily cuts herself off, growing red in the cheeks as her eyes flicker over to Ominis.

A moment passes.

“Okay…” Ominis finally sighs, probably the most confused. “But what does this have to do with Y/N being—” He halts, eyes widening. “Amortentia!”

Anne grins; “exactly.”

“What?” Sebastian cries.

“I found these chocolates on Y/N’s bed,” Anne explains, “with a note attached, signed by Leander.”

The cogs in Sebastian’s mind slowly click together.

“He… he drugged her!” he calls out in disbelief, feeling a new wave of rage flood through him. His eyes snap back to his right, where he’d been staring before, where you are, coddled up next to Leander as he smiles sickly down at you, touching you, kissing you. “I’m gonna kill him.”

Anne is quick to grab onto him, “no.” And at the bewildered look he sends her, she frowns. “We need to get her to Blainey. She’s the only one who can heal Y/N and then the school will deal with him.”

Sebastian wants to argue but despite the anger radiating through him, he knows his sister is right.

-

Your head hurts as you blink away, the bright light above your head causing you to moan in dejection, confused.

Where were you?

Pressing a hand to your face, you try to block the light, using your other hand to push yourself up, slowly, since your whole body hurts in a dull ache everywhere. It takes you a moment to realize you’re in the hospital wing, recognizing the startling white of the room, before a set of hands are falling on you, pulling your attention to your left.

You gasp, panicked, until you see a familiar pair of warm brown eyes staring back at you in concern.

“Sebastian…” You mumble, voice coarse.

He shakes his head at you; “don’t push yourself.” He urges gently, his hand on your back as the other reaches behind you, helping prop you up with your pillows. You let him, still confused, as you glance around the room.

“How… How did I get here?” You asked, not remembering how you ended up here or why… actually, everything feels like a dull blur. The last thing you clearly remember is coming to your dorm after a long day of classes, surprised to see a box of chocolates on your bed and they’d been from… Leander!

Your eyes snap to Sebastian; “Sebastian! I think… I think I may have been poisoned by—”

“Leander Prewett,” Sebastian cuts in, face darkening as he nods at you. “Yes, well, Y/N…”

“You were given the love potion, my dear,” Blainey calls out, stepping into your view with a sheet of paper in her hands, eyes slowly flickering to meet your own with a worried frown. “Amortentia,” she nods, lips pursed. “Thanks to this young man, I was able to give you the remedy rather quickly but it looks like you were drugged for at least a couple days. Your body aches because of the antidote, so I’d like to keep you for a few hours just to make sure everything is alright but overall, there should be no lasting effects.”

Stunned, you let her words register.

Letting your hands fall numbly to your lap, you stare at them.

“Y/N?” Sebastian calls out quietly, pulling your eyes on him as he glances at you in concern. “Are you…?” his words trail, not really sure how to gauge the look on your face.

“I’m alright,” you whisper, “just… embarrassed.”

Sebastian shakes his head; “it’s not your fault—”

The door slamming open catches both of your attention, and your eyes widen when Leander comes storming into the room. The concerned look on his face is quickly replaced with rage when he sees Sebastian at your side, and Leander wastes no time; “just what are you doing—”

But Leander never gets to finish what he’s saying because in the next second Sebastian’s fist is colliding with his cheek, hard, and knocking him off his feet and straight into the ground. Nurse Blainey lets out a cry in surprise as you jump, body tensing as your eyes flicker from Leander to Sebastian, but you’re not afraid. At least not of Sebastian. Rather, his actions fill you with an odd warmth.

“I normally wouldn’t send you straight to detention for that, Mr. Sallow,” Professor Weasley’s voice rings out as she makes her way inside the room, and your eyes widen when you see Ominis and Anne trailing closely behind her. “But given the circumstances, I guess I’ll let such violence pass this once. Just don’t let it happen again, Mr. Sallow.”

Still breathing heavily, Sebastian takes a step back, his eyes easing when he turns to look at the professor. “You got it, Professor Weasley.”

“Now, Mr. Prewett,” Weasley’s voice calls out and the boy jumps as her steely eyes fall on him, scrambling to his feet as he looks around at everyone. “I believe you and I need to have a long chat.”

“B-But—” Leander sounds absolutely pathetic, his eyes falling on you as you simply glare at him, arms crossed over your chest, before falling on Sebastian who grins at him widely.

I win.

“Now, Mr. Prewett.”

Leander all but skulks out behind Weasley.

The second he’s gone, Anne rushes to your side, taking your hands in hers. “I was so worried when you started acting like a lovesick fool for Prewett of all people,” she cries, shaking her head as your cheeks burn, thinking of all the embarrassing things you must’ve been doing for the past few days. “I’m so glad none of it was real.”

Letting out a light laugh, you rub at the back of your neck; “I imagine I embarrassed myself quite a bit, huh?”

“A little,” Ominis says honestly, grimacing. “But it wasn’t your fault and the school is sure to know that when Leander is expelled for using a potion on you like that.”

His words bring comfort, even if a little.

“Y/N must be tired, guys,” Sebastian calls out after a moment. “Let’s leave her to rest.”

Ominis nods, offering you a small squeeze on the shoulder before pulling Anne with him who just grins at her brother; “I trust you’ll take good care of her for me though, won’t you, brother?”

Sebastian’s cheeks burn red and you turn away, but he doesn't argue.

Once Anne and Ominis have left, Sebastian returns to the seat he’d been in beside your bed, Blainey having left to give the both of you a bit of space. There’s a silence that swallows the both of you, and then, slowly, you let your hand fall on his.

“I’m sorry.”

Sebastian blinks, turning to you. “Why are you…”

You bite your lip, looking at your lap, cheeks flushed. “Whatever I did… I know Ominis said it already, but really, none of it was me… you know that, right?”

Sebastian flips his hand, taking yours in his and squeezing. “You have no idea how reassuring that is to hear.” 

Your eyes snap to his, lips parting.

He shakes his head. “Even when Anne discovered you’d been drugged, there was still a part of me that… I–I guess, it’s just… seeing you act that way with him, kissing and holding and-and being with him like that… It made me terribly uncomfortable.”

You shift, leaning closer to him; “just uncomfortable?”

“Jealous.”

He glances up at you, and you meet his eyes, hand still in his as your free hand reaches forward, daring yourself to brush your fingers through his curls. Sebastian lets you, eyes watching you, before suddenly he’s leaning forward and then his lips are on yours, soft and warm albeit nervous, pulling away too soon as your lips part and you stare back at him.

“Incredibly jealous.”

You smile softly, “I didn’t mean any of it.” You whisper, emphasizing the words. “I didn't mean any of it with him because I wanted it to be with you, Sebastian.”

He grins, his face easing for the first time since you’d woken up and the sight of it is enough to fill you with warmth.

Then, Sebastian’s lip part and he’s grinning a little too widely; “that’s a relief because it was almost embarrassing for me to see you fawning over—”

You cut him off with a sharp slap to his shoulder, one he gasps in response to, holding the offended spot but the grin never fades from his lips as he smirks over at you.

“You’re never gonna let me live that down, are you?”And of course, his eyes sparkle with glee; “nope.”

[sasheemo]

When We Collide

Chapter 4

Chapter Summary: Unexpected vulnerabilities and glimpses of hidden struggles are unveiled. But as defenses rise and words cut deep, the moment is fractured, leaving you and Agatha to confront unresolved emotions alone. Back at home, tensions only deepen.

Word Count: 2.9k

Chapter Index

Read on AO3

Agatha’s eyes fix on the ground, her fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns in the dirt as she collects her thoughts. “It’s … my mother” she begins, each word dropping heavily, like stones tossed into a deep well. “She… she expects a lot from me.”

You stay quiet, watching her carefully, patiently waiting for her to keep going as if any movement or sound could rip the moment apart.

Agatha sighs, frustration clouding her face “It’s like no matter what I do, it’s never enough. Ultimately, I always do something wrong, some unforgivable mistake that makes me unworthy of her legacy. It’s … it’s … it’s exhausting.”

You feel an unexpected twinge of empathy, the weight of those expectations all too familiar. “So that’s why you… reacted like that?” you ask softly, choosing your words with care, as to not startle her. 

Agatha’s tone sharpens, but something fragile lingers beneath “I was… tired. Tired of always being under her scrutiny, tired of feeling like I’m never good enough.”

You study her, take in her words, trying to gauge how much more she is willing to reveal. 

And then she speaks again, almost startling you. “I’m supposed to be Agatha Harkness” she says, voice laced with sarcasm “powerful and poised, the daughter of the great Evanora Harkness” she sweeps her arms out in a mocking, theatrical gesture, her lips curling into a bitter smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. Then, her expression falters and her voice drops to a murmur “But here …” her gaze lowers, arms falling back to her sides, her voice barely audible now. “Here, I was just … broken. Powerless”.

An unexpected protectiveness stirs within you and the words easily come out “You’re not broken, Agatha. Sometimes… it’s all just too much.”

Her eyes flash with something unguarded—is it … gratitude? “You make it sound so simple” she scoffs bitterly, “But it’s not. Not when your are constantly being told, reminded, that you’re failing to live up to some impossible standards someone else set for you.”

You fight back the urge to share how much you relate to her words, choosing to let Agatha have her moment. Right now, you just want her to keep going, to talk to you. “Maybe you should tell her that” you suggest, your tone gentle but firm. “Your Mother, maybe she needs to hear it.”

Agatha’s laughter is hollow. “Right, because that’s how these things work. I’ll just sit down for tea with her and be like, ‘Hey, Mother, can we have a chat about your impossible expectations?’”

“Why not?” you counter, your voice calm and steady as you try to hold back a smirk at her sarcasm. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“She’d probably just sl- laugh in my face and remind me what failure of a daughter and witch I am” Agatha replies, her voice trembling with suppressed emotion.

You meet her gaze, determined not to back down. “Why do you let her get to you? You can choose not to let her opinions define you.”

And with your words lingering in the air, an unbidden thought strikes ‘you are such a hypocrite, is that what you do when it comes to your own mother? You, giving mother-daughter relationship advice … really?!’. Your own voice is so loud in your head, but you are quick to push it aside, determined to keep your focus on the conversation and on Agatha.

Agatha scoffs shaking her head “And you think that’s easy? Maybe for someone who hasn’t spent their life under the weight of someone else’s expectations.” her tone is icy before she pauses, her eyes narrowing. “What would you even know about that?”

“Enough to know that resentment eats away at you” you shoot back, tension tightening around you. 

Agatha opens her mouth, then hesitates, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her features. “So now you’re just the expert on my life, right?”. The moment the question hits your ears, you realize there’s something about the way her sass flares up, only to vanish just as quickly, that’s starting to grow on you—for reasons you can’t quite explain.

“No” you say evenly “but I’m trying to understand. You act like you don’t care, but tearing up half the forest isn’t exactly indifference, is it?”

Agatha rolls her eyes “Oh, aren’t you insightful?” she shoots back, sarcasm dripping from every wordy. “What’s next, are you going to solve all of my life’s problems with your little spells and the power of nature?” she raises her hand, fingers flicking in exaggerated waves as if she’s casting a spell in mockery of your abilities. 

When her teasing is met by your silence and unimpressed face, Agatha’s hand drops. She shifts on her spot and slightly away form you, her walls slamming back into place. “What makes you think I need your help? I don’t want you to understand me” Agatha snaps. Yet, her bravado feels thin, barely masking the vulnerability underneath. “And I don’t need you to either. I don’t know you and you don’t know me and things don’t need to change just because yester-”

“Maybe I’m starting to see you” you interject, your voice low but firm. “And maybe … that scares you.”

Agatha’s expression darkens, and you can see the inner conflict waging war once again within her. “What do you even want from me?” she asks, her tone suddenly softer, almost pleading. “Do you want me to apologize? To grovel at your feet? Because I’m not going to do that.”

Your scoff immediately fills the air “I don’t want any of that.” you say, meeting her gaze with unwavering determination … before it falters. “I-I just want to listen, to help you” the words escape your lips before you even realize it but, weirdly enough, you feel no urge to take them back.

It’s Agatha’s turn to scoff, crossing her arms tightly over her chest as if trying to shield herself from your words. “You really think you can break through, don’t you? You think you can just stroll in and make it all better?” she says, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “What’s in it for you, anyway?” her eyes narrow, a twisted smirk curving her lips as she tilts her head, examining you “Or do you just get off on trying to ‘help’ people?” she sneers. “Is this your idea of fun, finding broken souls to patch up?”

The words hit you like a slap, and you feel a surge of irritation rising in your chest. It’s not like that… is it? You’re not even sure why you’re here, why you feel this strange pull toward Agatha’s pain, her defenses, and her sharp sarcasm. But her accusation stings, and for a second, you’re at a loss, unable to find a response that doesn’t sound defensive. You press your lips together, trying to ignore the way her gaze feels like it’s cutting straight through you, exposing motives you hadn’t even figured out yourself.

You just… sit there, quietly, as the silence between you grows stifling and almost suffocating, locking you both into this strange standoff. Then, Agatha finally looks away, her smirk of satisfaction fading quickly to your own surprise. 

You study her face for a few more seconds before letting your gaze drift away. For an instant, you can feel how her words are suspended in the air, mingling with the wisps of smoke from the dying fire. Enveloped in that same air, Agatha can feel the weight of what she said, its sharpness. A flicker of uncertainty crosses her face, giving way to something heavier, the realization that her words likely reached a part of you she hadn’t entirely meant to wound.

A hint of regret seeps in, unexpected and unwelcome, but undeniable. Her fingers find a loose twig on the ground, and she twists it absently, a distraction from the unfamiliar pang of guilt settling in her chest. 

The two of you remain like this, silently lost in thought and unwilling to meet each other’s gaze, as time stretches on indefinitely. Finally, as if needing to fill the silence pressing down on her, Agatha breaks it, her voice edged with frustration “It’s just… I don’t know why I’m even talking to you about this.” she mutters.“This whole conversation is ridiculous. I should be studying, or practicing my spells, or… I don’t know, anything else! Not sitting here talking to you, of all people.”

At the sound of her voice, you turn your gaze back to her, noticing how she is yet again tracing aimless patterns in the dirt, this time with the twig. Her eyes are fixed downward, still avoiding yours. “Maybe you needed to get it off your chest” you reply calmly. Only then does Agatha’s hand still, her gaze lifting until her eyes meet yours, something flickering within them as if your words have caught her off guard, as if she was expecting you to reply something else entirely. “Besides” you add “they say it’s easier to talk to someone you’re at odds with.”

“Right, because that’s totally sane” Agatha snaps, but her voice lacks its usual bite. “I’ve lost it, talking to my mother’s rival’s daughter. What’s next? Making each other flower crowns?”

You raise an eyebrow and take a breath, feeling the tension ease just a fraction. “We’re not so different, you know. We are both fighting to escape expectations that were never ours to begin with.”

“Great!” Agatha replies, giving a slow, exaggerated clap, the faintest hint of a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Two broken souls bonding over the wreckage of their lives. Truly inspiring.”

“Better than being at each other’s throats” you shot back, your words almost a question, a small grin threatening to break through.

Agatha rolls her eyes, but you can see the corners of her mouth twitch again. “I suppose. Just don’t expect me to start writing poetry about my feelings anytime soon.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it” you reply, unable to suppress a chuckle.

But the lightness of the moment doesn’t last long. Agatha’s expression shifts back to something more guarded as she speaks “Look, just … I don’t want to be some sob story. I’ll handle my drama in my own way. I didn’t ask for this heart-to-heart.”

“Fair enough” you say, your voice steady. “Just know that you can talk to me if you ev-”

“Sure, I’ll just add it to my list of things I’d rather not do.” she cuts in, but there’s a flicker in her eyes—a glimmer of something like acknowledgment, maybe even appreciation.

This isn’t a resolution, but it’s a step. Toward what, you’re not entirely sure. The tension between you shifts slightly, softened by all the things left unsaid. You tell yourself it’s nothing significant, but somewhere, buried beneath your thoughts, lingers the sense that this might not be the last time you talk.

Agatha’s voice pierces through the silence, her expression serious “It doesn’t make sense, does it? And yet here we are.”

“Yeah” you murmur, letting the strange truth settle between you. “It’s ridiculous, we’re practically rivals.”

“Practically?” she scoffs, though the tension in her voice hints at something different, an understanding just beneath the surface. “I’d say we’re already well past that point.”

“Fine, we’re rivals.” you say, and you can almost taste the faint hesitation on your tongue. “But… do you even know why?” you can’t help but ask, the question just hanging there, almost rhetorical. “I mean, it’s just… always been that way, hasn’t it? Like, it was handed down to us and … we went along with it?”

Agatha’s eyebrows shoot up in amusement at your questions, her expression shifts slightly as she considers your words. But her tone suddenly hardens “You think that just because we’re sitting here, chatting about my emotional breakdown or whatever, that we’re best friends now? That’s not how it works and you know it.”

Agatha’s words settle heavily in the air, cold and dismissive, pressing against you like an invisible wall. Whatever momentary connection you thought you’d glimpsed now feels fractured. For a brief second, you almost want to reply, to push back, but a strange resignation settles over you instead. You can’t shake the feeling of foolishness creeping in, a nagging sense that this whole morning was just a waste of time. Why did you even bother? What were you even expecting?

You force yourself to nod, as if conceding. “Right. Like you said, that’s not how it works.”, but the words taste empty. You exhale sharply before standing up, glancing back at her one last time “Goodbye, Agatha.” you say, your voice steady and calm, deliberate. You hold her gaze for a moment longer than necessary, as if silently making it clear that you won’t be the one left vulnerable. Then, without waiting for a response, you turn and walk away, letting the muted sounds of the forest close in around you.

Agatha doesn’t move for a long time, her gaze trained on the fading embers. The ashes lift and drift in the breeze, remnants of something heavy and unresolved, scattered too easily, just like the semblance of a connection that had briefly flared between you. She watches as the ashes dissolve into the air, a reminder that what’s been reduced to ashes rarely returns to what it once was. The weight of the moment clings to her, an odd pang she doesn’t fully understand. It presses against her usual defenses, almost like regret, not that she’d never admit it.

As she sits there, the faint rustle of underbrush draws her attention. She looks up, noticing a rabbit moving toward her with a cautious, uneven gait. Her brow furrows slightly as she watches it come closer, each hesitant hop tugging at an unspoken guilt she doesn’t want to acknowledge. Only when it pauses just a step from her crossed legs does she feel the certainty settle. A quiet, undeniable recognition that this is indeed the same rabbit that had fallen victim to her anger the day before.

Instinctively, she raises a hand to shoo it away, irritation flashing across her face. “Get lost.” she mutters, her voice sharper than she intends, her fingers flicking in a dismissive wave. But the rabbit doesn’t retreat. It stands its ground, then hops closer, pausing in front of her with a quiet insistence. She watches it, her irritation softening as it sits there.

With a sigh, Agatha relents, lowering her hand until her fingers barely graze the rabbit’s fur. The warmth of its small body surprises her, grounding her in the quiet solitude of the forest. Guilt and tenderness flicker in equal measure as she absently strokes its fur. “I’m sorry.” she whispers, barely recognizing her own voice as a single tear trails down her cheek. The rabbit hops into her lap, then settles in, curling up as if it belongs there, its small body calm against her. For the first time in a long while, Agatha allows herself a moment of quiet reflection, feeling the weight of emotions she can’t fully name.

The stillness of the forest fades as you cross through your garden and step into the walls of your home. Before you can even close the door, your mother’s voice pierces the silence, her tone laced with its usual mix of mockery and disapproval. “Back already?” she sneers, her gaze scanning you as if searching for signs of trouble. “You usually haunt the woods till dusk, and here you are, so early.”

You suppress an eye roll, your patience already strained “Not much going on out there.” you reply coolly, moving past her toward the stairs, hoping to avoid the inevitable lecture. But her voice follows you, sharp and cutting.

“Not causing trouble, I hope? I’d hate to hear of another mess like yesterday’s. Evanora doesn’t need any more reasons to question our family’s… stability.” Her words are thinly veiled, the accusation hovering in the air between you.

You take a slow breath, fighting the urge to snap back. “No troubles and no messes, Mother.” you say dismissively, willing your voice to remain steady.

As you place a foot on the stairs, your mother’s voice sharpens again, keeping you rooted to the spot. “And don’t think you’ll be skipping Evanora’s gathering this afternoon. She’s called on every one of us to further discuss this hunter situation and possibly put together some kind of patrol group. And you will be there. I won’t have you embarrassing me by staying behind.”

You pause, frustration simmering beneath the surface. “And if I don’t want to go?”

Her smile is as cold as her tone “Then I suggest you finally master that invisibility spell. But since I doubt that’ll happen anytime soon, you’ll attend. Just like the rest of us.”

You feel her gaze on your back as you ascend the stairs, her words echoing after you with their customary bite. In the silence of your room, you find yourself looking out the window, the image of Agatha sitting cross-legged by the smoldering ambers lingering at the edges of your thoughts. You brush it away, frustrated at yourself for even allowing it to linger.

And then, as you sit in the quiet of your room, a sudden thought hits you, sharp and unwelcome. Of course, Agatha will be there this afternoon. You almost laugh at the bitter irony, escaping the forest and that exhausting conversation, only to be thrown back into her presence. It feels as if the universe itself is playing some twisted joke, forcing you back into her orbit before her words have even had the chance to fade. Normally, neither of you would spare the other a glance, content to keep a safe distance in the silent rivalry that’s defined you both for years. Today won’t be any different. Nothing has really changed, you tell yourself. 

[elizabeth-holland24]

The Beast Within - Prologue

Once upon a time, there was a boy born for great things, cradled by golden light and praised by the lips of many. From the moment he took his first breath, the world seemed to expect greatness from him—a prince with the weight of his family’s legacy resting heavy on his young shoulders. He was destined to be perfect, to lead with grace and power. Yet, though he was admired by all, the one thing he was never shown was love.

His parents, noble and proud, were distant figures, preoccupied with the kingdom and their own ambitions. The boy grew up in a palace filled with treasures but devoid of warmth. When his parents died in a mysterious accident, that sense of duty became a suffocating burden. Left to rule in their absence, the boy had no choice but to wear the mask of strength. And so, with each passing year, he became more of a prince in name than in heart, handsome and charming on the outside, but hollow within.

As he grew into a young man, wealth, power, and admiration swirled around him like an unrelenting storm. He had it all, and yet, it was never enough. His desires were insatiable—more fame, more women, more distractions to fill the void in his soul. His heart, untouched by true kindness, grew colder with each passing year. If only he had been wiser, more compassionate, perhaps his fate would have been different.

It was on the night of one of his grand masquerade balls that everything changed. His palace was alive with music and laughter, nobles dancing in the opulence of his court, celebrating the future king. But Jake Seresin, the dashing prince known to all as Hangman, was nowhere to be found amidst the revelry.

High above the celebrations, on the balcony of his tower, Jake stood alone, staring at the horizon as if seeking an answer in the distant stars.

"It's strange, isn't it, Bradley?" Jake murmured, his voice low and tired. "I have everything a man could want, yet when I look out there, I feel like I have nothing. People have always swirled around me like snowflakes—each one free, each one melting away before I can grasp them. Always wanting something from me, but never really seeing me."

Bradley, his ever-loyal friend, sighed beside him. "You can dwell on it later, Jake. Right now, you're their Hangman. You have to be what everyone expects—the prince your parents raised you to be. That's your destiny."

Jake hummed in response, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. His gaze wavered for a moment, uncertainty creeping into his expression—a rare vulnerability. In truth, something about the night felt different, unsettling. For the first time, he felt juberous, caught between the life he had always known and a nagging sense that something darker, something irreversible, was looming just beyond the horizon.

With a resigned swig of his drink, he pulled his mask over his face. "Then let’s show them just how good a prince I can be."

As the party below raged on, Jake descended into the crowd, his presence electrifying the room. True to form, he became the Hangman everyone admired—arrogant, reckless, and magnetic. He danced and drank, flirting with ladies, exchanging shallow pleasantries with nobles, all feeding his growing ego. Yet beneath the mask, the emptiness gnawed at him, the void deepening with every hollow laugh.

But as the clock struck midnight, a heavy knock echoed through the hall, silencing the festivities. The grand doors creaked open, revealing an old man, weathered and frail, his eyes tired but wise.

"Your Highness," the man said, his voice barely a whisper. "I seek your help. My horse has left me stranded in the forest, and I am too weak to continue my journey. I ask only for shelter and a small kindness. In return, I offer you my eternal gratitude—and this rose."

For a moment, silence blanketed the room, until it was shattered by laughter, sharp and mocking, echoing from every corner of the hall. Jake stepped forward, his lips curling in disdain.

"Do you think a rose and your gratitude will repay me for this interruption? You’ve ruined my party, old man. Get out before you make things worse."

With a flick of his hand, Jake motioned to the guards, who moved to drag the old man away. But before they could reach him, the air in the room shifted—a cold, biting wind swirling through the hall as a blinding light filled the space. When it dimmed, the old man was gone, and in his place stood a towering figure, his eyes glowing like shards of ice.

"You are deceived by your own heart of stone," the figure intoned, his voice a deep, reverberating echo. "For your cruelty, you and all within this palace are cursed. Until the day you learn to love and be loved in return, you shall remain a beast, hidden from the world you once ruled."

The curse fell like a heavy shroud, consuming the castle and its inhabitants. The prince—now twisted into a form that matched his cold, selfish soul—was forgotten by the world. The kingdom moved on, unaware of the boy who had once been its pride.

And so, Jake was left to wander the desolate halls, his reflection unrecognizable, his heart burdened with doubt. Time passed, and though the world forgot, the curse remained. The prince and his court were trapped, waiting for the one thing he had always pushed away—true, selfless love.

A/N: So here is the prologue, I hope you like it and are excited as I am. Thank you all for the love and support. Please comment, like or reblog to show me that you're liking it also, feel free to comment or text me your theories as to which character is going to be playing who in the original tale. See you next time <3

[kissami]

YOU’RE THE GOOD AND I’M THE BAD

part two

SUM: you always had a tough relationship with your family, favoritism was a big thing and we all know you were the last pick in the cherry field. Katsuki though…you were his favorite thing. Katsuki then has a moment of weakness crack through his strong exterior.

WARNINGS: family issues, thoughts of self doubt, cute katsuki, then shifts to depressed katsuki QUICCCKKK!

femreader! with she/her pronouns!

author’s note at the end of this :3

series masterlist

"I DONT THINK I've ever seen anything like this before.

Keeping her eyes still on the cereal box, Y/N ignored the way her parents were gawking at the flowers that stood all dried up and old in a water bottle near the windows of the kitchen.

"They seem pretty dead to me." She chewed her food throughly, swallowing down slowly as her parents ignored her, keeping their attention on her sister.

"How is it possible for a dead flower to create a new one in a plastic bottle...last night when I brought it out I didn't see anything strange with it but as soon as I was going to throw it out, I noticed the new stems."

Y/N couldn't help but feel a sense of annoyance when her sister spoke.

Her sister annoyed her to the core no matter what she did. Maybe it was because she grew up with her older sister getting everything handed to her or maybe just the way she spoke sort of ticked her off. Like an annoying bug you can’t get rid of because you can’t find it so it’s endless buzzing continues in your space, almost in a mocking way.

"It's like new beginnings can happen anywhere, you know? This little rose was so close to dying, but this little new flower will continue its legacy."

"Oh my gosh, how much more cliche can you get? It's a fucking flower, it's natural for it to grow. Stop getting into your little dramatic theories all the time with stuff like this."

Y/N spat, placing her spoon down as she watched the way her sister bit back her remark, because deep down she knew exactly how her parents would react.

Her mother gasped, obviously shocked that her quiet child would speak like that to her poor sweet daughter who said something so beautiful.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

The younger girl held back the urge to roll her eyes as she got up and walked back upstairs to her room.

Y/N was a smart and gentle girl, but the people she lived with made it impossible for her to be truly happy.

She was used to it at this point. She would get lectured over every little thing wether it be wrong or right. Hiding away in her room was what made her feel less insane but they still had something to say about that.

"You never talk with us anymore. You're shutting us out so much, do you not love us anymore? Am I a bad mother to you?"

Every time her mother said that, it resulted in her getting yelled at by her drunk father to stop being such a burden and a bitch to her mother while her sister was busy else where.

When can I finally be happy?

Flopping onto her bed, she snuggled deeper into her sheets as a few tears went down her plump cheeks.

This poor 17 year old girl was truly going through it. Her father was rarely home but when he was, he would always remind her how miserable their lives became ever since she was born.

They were always low on money and could barely afford some things, but while her sister was busy buying things for her own benefit, Y/N was busy trying to meet ends meet, yet she was still the burden of the family.

It wasn't fair how easily her sister gotten their love. They sacrificed so much money just for her sister to throw away the things they've gotten her the next day.

She just wanted to feel like she was appreciated or cared for. Wasn't it her parents' job to support her? Her father's job to protect her from any harm but here he is, hurting her the most before any man ever did.

Didn't her mother have to give her advice on her future and given compassion that she will make it far in life instead of being shamed for being a bit (bigger/smaller) than everyone else around her and that no man would ever love her?

And her sister, wasn't her sister supposed to be her best friend who would be there no matter what? But here she is, getting backstabbed by her own flesh and blood.

Y/N was getting so exhausted. Her life was barely starting, and she was already considering leaving so soon.

Am I too...much of a burden to be loved, even by my own family?

Y/N flinched from a rough knock on her window, making her sit up and fix herself up as she saw who it was.

"Katsuki what the hell are you doing here? If my parents find out you're here..."

"Babe, shut up and let me kiss you."

❁ ❁ ❁

Katsuki groaned as he felt something slam into his stomach which resulted in him staggering back.

"Oh my! I'm so sorry, Mr! Oh wait, mama look!!! It's Mr. Dynamight!"

Katsuki looked down and sighed a bit as he saw a young girl in her tweens looking up at him in awe.

"Can I get your autograph,sir?"

"Kassie what did I say about being disrespectful. I'm so sorry, Dynamight."

He shook his head at the mother and signed the girl's journal.

He felt his heart stop as he saw it was one of (Y/N)’s books, her signature being right next to where the girl wanted katsuki to write.

Katsuki blocked out the people’s voices completely as he felt his chest rise up and down, a single tear leaving his eye which he quickly wiped away.

"Here kid." He passed the beautiful book that he had millions of, hidden away in his office, back to the little girl and quickly fled the scene.

As he walked back to his agency, he continued to feel the heavy ache in his heart.

No matter how much time had passed and the years flew by since the incident, he still heavily mourned for his first love every single time someone mentioned her.

It was stupid he thought. She was famous, he was famous, people asking him about her was bound to happen, or situations like this where he catches a glimpse of her book that wasn’t one that he owned, having to relive that she was taken so soon. She had so much to live for, her story just began.

He found it unfair how she could finish so many incredible stories yet never could finish her own.

He felt so selfish right now. He still couldn't move forward even if he had someone important in his life now and even a child of his own.

He will and always will be hers.

author’s note: well well well…hi. LOL. Sorry I haven’t updated this series in almost a year!! Holy fuck. I’m really sorry you guys, I lost inspo and just felt so lazy to edit this, but she’s here! I swear on my skittles I will get my shit together and update this series. I never realized so many ppl remembered it from my wattpad days?? That’s insane?? Thank you my pookies,I’ll try to update every week but really it just depends on how I’m feeling :3 anyways, enjoy amor mío!

[literary-motif]

Hey! I really really love your writing!!<3

I was wondering if you could write a fluff of Zaros and reader. Where zaros says something extremely hurtful to reader then immediately regrets it and he starts to feel extremely bad. After that he makes it up for them, while he makes it for them reader can obviously tell that zaros has feelings for them and that he’s bad at hiding his true feelings. (I’m sorry if this isn’t clear!! I’m trying to explain my vision but idk how T-T)

Thank you!!<333

I Mean What I Say

Zaros Atha'lin x Reader

Warnings: survivor's guilt

When Zaros saw you in the garden, the corners of his lips perked up. The usual feeling of warmth in his chest at the sight of you was overshadowed by resentment.

The talk with his mother had been rather heavy. She was beyond disappointed, furious even that he fell behind in the trials now that the throne was so close. It had not been his fault, truthfully. 

He had tried his best, but it was an open secret that had him questioning the impartiality of the scholars constructing these trials that you were stronger than him, therefore beating him in physical combat, and more popular, easily securing your favor with the nobles and the people in a vote of confidence. 

Nira had been furious, telling him to do better, reminding him about how important this was both for the good of Serulla and the Atha’lin family. It hurt to know that his best was not good enough, that he was not equipped enough despite his hard work to bridge the gap years of unfair advantage had given you. 

He was desperate, the self-satisfied grin you had given him as the Serulla people cheered for you had burned a hole through his heart. What had you done to deserve their favor? He actually had ideas and plans to make life easier for them yet you had won them over with a few empty promises and forced smiles because you were the Earis and he was nothing more than a post-disgraced leech.

“Come to gloat?” he quipped, stepping up beside you. The seething rage and the feeling of injustice boiling within had turned his voice sharp. 

He knew you enjoyed watching him fail when he had been so confident in the beginning. It was a small mercy you did not outright mock him on that stage, turning him into a laughingstock for the entire kingdom.

You did not look up, instead keeping your eyes fixed on your brother’s grave.

The garden was kept in perfect condition, but not all the riches in the vaults under the castle could halt the passage of time that slowly began chiseling away his name on the stone. It had been years, but his absence still left an aching void in your chest. 

With the trials nearly completed, you could not help but wish for him to take the throne instead. It was his right, after all. No matter the days, weeks, or years you spent perfecting yourself, trying to become someone worthy of your mother’s legacy and the place he should have taken instead, you always fell short. 

You wished you had more of your brother’s kindness, more of his calmness. You wished he was here to teach you the art of subtlety, about talking for hours with someone who did not share your view on things and emerge with a compromise. You wished you had more of his charms, his carefree appearance when you knew he contemplated all his actions carefully. 

You wished he was here to cheer you on and guide you. But most of all, you wished he was here instead of you.

“I am not in the mood, Zaros,” you said bleakly. How long had it been that you were staring at the cold grave? The grass had turned humid, staining your robes and making you shiver as a gust of wind blew through the garden. 

“I wonder what he would have thought of you,” he said, deaf to your quiet melancholy. “Then again, the way I knew him, he would be ashamed of you.”

It was not like him to provoke you this harshly. His teases had always been that, with a few truths and thinly veiled resentments added here and there, but never outright mocking. But with defeat hanging over him and the taste on his tongue of the trials rigged in your favor, even Zaros could not contain himself anymore. 

Everyone had their breaking point.

“What the hell is your problem?” you spat, rising to your feet and spinning around to face him. The heavy quiet of your contemplations was broken by the fury now coursing through you. 

Zaros stared back at you, giving a low chuckle at your clenched fists and furrowed brows. “Losing control again?” he mocked, “How do you think that will look on you when you have a crown on your head? At least he” — he pointed to the grave — “knew how to keep it together and actually cared about the people!”

“And what do you suppose I do about that?” you screamed, digging your nails into your palms to suppress the need to break something. “What do you want from me? Should I go and look for a mage to bring him back? Should I summon an entity and trade my life for his? It’s not my fault he’s dead!”

“Maybe you should,” Zaros said coldly, the iciness in his voice freezing your blood and making you feel hollow. “Serulla would be better off without you, so perhaps you should look for a way to atone for the fact it was him who died and not you.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but whatever venom you wanted to spit died on your tongue as Zaros’ words sunk in. You could only huff as your hands began to shake, the tightness in your throat choking you as tears blurred your vision. 

You turned before he could see them fall, leaving Zaros behind without another word. The steps you took towards the palace were measured as you tried to create the illusion of being unbothered by his cutting words. You only hoped he could not see your body trembling in the dim light. 

Zaros’ gaze did not follow you. He stood frozen, his eyes fixed on the tombstone as he tried to make sense of what had just happened. 

‘Should I summon an entity and trade my life for his?’ 

‘Maybe you should.’’

Had he really said that? He clasped a hand over his mouth, sinking to the ground in shock. Had he just told the person he loved to seek out death? His free hand grasped the grass, trying to ground himself as the world spun. What had he done?

“No— I didn’t mean it,” he muttered wide-eyed, heaving a shaking breath as waves of self-loathing washed over him. How could he have said something so cruel? What kind of person was he to let desperation and resentment guide him to say something like that?

How could he fix it? What could he possibly say to get back from that?

“I didn’t mean it,” he gasped, choking on his breath. “No, please. I didn’t mean it. Earis!” He looked up, but the garden was deserted. Of course you had gone, but where to?

‘Serulla would be better off without you.’

He needed to apologize, needed to make this right. 

Zaros got up shakily. He felt sick. What if this was it? What if he had ruined all the progress you two had made in getting closer again during the trials because he had snapped today?

“Damn the trials,” he whispered, bracing himself against the stone wall as the world kept spinning around him. Your chambers were just a few doors away. “Damn the throne. I don’t want it if it means losing you.”

He reached your door, knocking on it hurriedly. 

No answer.

“Earis?” he called. His voice sounded strange to his own ears, muffled and choked as if it came from far away. “Earis?” he tried again, louder this time.

“The Earis has gone out,” a servant said, poking their head around the corner, “the library is my best guess— Are you alright, Sarl Zaros?”

He nodded in thanks, waving a shaking hand in dismissal of the worried look. “Fine,” he answered curtly, stumbling towards the library before they could say another word. 

‘You should look for a way to atone for the fact that it was him who died and not you.’

“Earis?” he called shakily, letting the door of the library fall shut behind him. Silence was his answer. 

He leaned back, resting his head against the sturdy wood and wiping the tears from his face. He sighed, taking a deep breath and calming his racing heartbeat. If you weren’t here, he needed to—

His thoughts were interrupted by a sniffle echoing through the silence of the empty library.

“Earis,” he said softly, turning the corner to find you curled against one of the large windows. The light of the setting sun was illuminating your face in a gentle orange glow. The speck of dust in the air seemed to shine in the light, creating the illusion of warmth, when in reality the scene before him was heartbreaking. 

You did not look up at his approaching footsteps, turning your head away from him instead. “Come to gloat?” you rasped, continuing to look out.

Zaros flinched as you threw his words back at him. “No, I—” he sighed, sitting next to you on the windowsill. “I’m—”

“Save it,” you said tiredly, drawing your arms closer around you. “I don’t care. You’re right anyway. He would have been a better Regent. He would have been a better heir and it’s unfair that he can’t be.”

“It is,” he said, slowly reaching out his hand to take yours, “but his qualities don’t take away from yours. You can be a good ruler just as well. I’m sorry for what I said. I know it doesn’t change anything, but I hope you can forgive me with time. I— I was frustrated and angry. That’s no excuse for—”

“Thank you,” you mumbled, allowing Zaros’ hesitant touch against your hand.

“I could withdraw from contesting for the throne.”

“What?”

Your surprised exclamation made a small smile appear on Zaros’ face. You looked at him wide-eyed. After all the trials and all the challenges you mastered together, why would he drop out so close to the finish line?

“Consider it my gift of apology,” he said, squeezing your hand. His expression grew serious again. “In truth, we both know you’ve won. There is only one trial left and I doubt I can catch up with how far you’re leading. Additionally” — he hesitated — “I’m tired of playing my mother’s games. Whatever revenge scheme she has is slowly burying me with its weight and I— I don’t want to be the person you saw today.”

You were speechless. It sounded like a joke, but the sincerity you saw in his expression convinced you that it was true. “You’d do that for me?” you asked, searching his gaze. “You’d walk away from ruling Serulla simply to say you’re sorry?”

“I’d do anything to show you that I’m anguished at what I said to you and I am sorry. I don’t want to be someone you— someone you hate. Not anymore, not when we rekindled—”

Your hand on his cheek silenced Zaros immediately. He leaned into the touch with a soft gasp, brushing his lips against your palm. You tilted his head, leaning forward to kiss him. 

Zaros melted against you, his arms wrapping around your back and pulling you into him. All the tension between you seemed to melt away as he held you in his arms, your hands gently threading through his hair and making him sigh. 

“I’m so glad you’re alive,” he said as you broke apart, resting his head on your shoulder and squeezing you tighter. “I’m so sorry, believe me. I lo— I—”

You hummed, slowly nodding. “I know,” you whispered, tracing circles on his back. “I’m glad you’re alive, too.”

The sky was clear, giving you and Zaros an unobtrusive view of the constellations above. You were lying in the garden, the humid grass staining your clothes, but neither of you minded. The moment was far too precious. 

“Zaros?” you asked, raising his hand to your lips when he gave you a short grunt in response. “You’re one for revolutionary ideas, aren’t you?”

He chuckled, raising his head from your shoulder to look at you. “You know I am, my Earis.”

“Here’s a thought for you then: What happens if we talk to the Queen come morning, telling her to call off the noble trials, and we instead rule together?”

Zaros was silent for a moment. “Together as what?” he asked quietly.

“Partners for now, and if perhaps it develops into something more, then we shall pursue that as well.”

“Revolutionary indeed, my Earis. Count me in.”

[runningfrom2am]

requiem // part four

summary: according to coriolanus snow, his best friend had the most beautiful voice in all of panem. she had been training her whole life constantly to get where she was; being up for a residency at the most elite opera house in all of panem. singing was her passion. her true love; and when that got stripped from her in a second, his world became a whole lot quieter. he loathed every minute of it.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.3k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: opera singer!mentor!reader (blink and you'll miss it), she's kind of a prodigy!! p cool imo, mute!reader, bestfriend!coryo, friends to lovers trope ooo, mentions of graphic violence early on (particularly the prologue) but after that it's pretty safe, depictions of ptsd/trauma, mental illness and minor suicidal ideation but at least she's not entirely alone, descriptions of minor medical treatments and use of medication.

a/n: fighting for my LIFE trying to sort out my student loans rn. also i'm sick. butttt i did just finally get my hands on hogwarts legacy so that's eating up all my time. anyway that's a small update on my life.

also, reminder to follow @runningfrom2am-library and turn on my notifications there to join my taglist for this series!!

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist // pinterest board

three months earlier

"You could write her a song." Clemensia suggests with a shrug, tapping her pen against the inkwell, hardly looking up from it.

Coryo scoffs, shaking his head. "Don't mock me, Clemmie. I'm serious."

"So am I!" She laughs, facing her palms up against the table and looking across at him now. "She likes music, it's like, the only thing she likes. It would make her happy, I'd bet. Is that not the whole point?"

In the face of something so juvenile as asking his best friend to go to their graduation gala together, Coryo is stumbling. You were his best friend, yes, he could just outright ask- especially considering nearly everyone had already just assumed that the two of you would be attending together, but something about that didn't sit right with him.

Other girls were getting special things. Flowers, jewelry, notes, and love letters that he had genuinely heard that, on a couple of occasions, brought tears to their eyes. Not that he wanted you to cry, but... He wanted you to feel that he cared. It was important to him that you knew he really cared.

"It is." He grumbles, rubbing his forehead.

"Okay, then-"

"I'm not writing her a song."

Clemensia sighs, rolling her eyes. "It doesn't have to be any good. Maybe it's even better if it's bad! She'd get a good laugh out of it too."

"Yes, and then I'd never live it down." He says, pushing his hair back out of his eyes and trying to put his focus on the assignment they were supposed to be working on. "Besides, I didn't ask for your advice. I don't need it."

"Yes, you do." She insists with a teasing smile, reaching over the table and poking him in the shoulder with her pen. "You wouldn't have told me otherwise. You were just too scared to ask directly."

Coryo lets out a deep breath through his nose, shaking his head in quiet denial, but she can easily make out the pink tinge on his cheeks.

"Coryo, you know she'll say yes no matter what, right?" She adds, her voice softer this time.

"That's not... that's not what I'm worried about. Necessarily, I mean."

"Ah." Clemensia hums in response, taking the end of her ink pen between her teeth. "More like... you just don't want her to get the impression that she was a last resort?"

"She's not." He defends quickly.

She raises her hands defensively, a short and quiet laugh falling from her lips in the library. "I know. I know that. I'm just clarifying that you don't want her to get that impression."

When he doesn't respond, pretending to pour all his focus into taking notes again, Clemensia lets out a dramatic sigh. "I don't know, just ask her. She knows you well enough that I really don't think it matters. Just... when's the next time you're hanging out?"

"Not sure." He mumbles, scribbling down some notes that he knows are hardly legible.

"Well, what about after class today? See if she wants to go get coffee or something."

"She's coaching until seven."

"Tomorrow?"

"Rehearsals."

Clemensia lets out a huff. "This weeken-"

"Orchestra practice." He cuts her off this time.

"Panem that girl is busy." She sighs. "How does she even have any friends at all?"

"We make time." He shrugs nonchalantly, as if it didn't bother him that he hardly ever saw his best friend this late in the academic year. That was common for you, though. Usually come summer and fall you had more free time to share with him. And he was happy to wait- it wasn't like he didn't get busy during exam seasons too.

"Okay, well, now is the time to 'make time'." She exclaims sternly, leaning closer across the table and lowering her voice to a whisper. "Because I heard rumours that Sejanus Plinth was intending on asking her, and you and I both know that she is far too kind to say no. Even if he is District."

Coriolanus' jaw tenses at that and he grips his pen just a little bit harder. "Have you done question fifteen yet?"

He had already been thinking about that for weeks, and he would torture himself for another week before he finally took Clemensia's advice and "made time".

You had seen him since that conversation he had had with Clemmie, but that didn't mean he could ever get himself to actually bring up graduation outside of asking you casually if anyone had asked you yet. To which, the answer was always an unbothered "no", and a shrug that allowed you to mask the sadness behind your smile.

He didn't exactly "make time", though. His plan was quite the opposite. Knowing you had morning practice, he got to the academy early and shoved the folded up paper in your locker and practically ran down the empty halls to the library. No taking it back now.

'A note? That's so stupid! She's your best friend! Just ask!' His thoughts race at him, but that's exactly why he did it this way. He couldn't back out again now.

"Coryo," Your familiar voice says as you slide into the seat next to him, hair perfectly styled and uniform ironed flat despite the early morning you must have had.

He looks over at you, eyes slightly wide out of nervousness. "Uh, hey... How's, um... How's your morning?" He asks, trying his best to play it casual.

You smile, sliding the folded up piece of paper you had found in your locker back over to him. "Good." You answer, already going about taking out your books. "Yours?"

"Good." He nods, mouth dry as he stares down at the paper, looking between the sheet and you.

Silently, you nod for him to open it, a small smile on your lips.

He hesitates before opening it, the conscious effort it takes to not tremble taking over his nerves.

He curses himself for his own fears about what it would say, blinking a couple times before reading the note.

'Want to go to the grad gala with me? -Coriolanus'

And then in small, flawless handwriting, a swift and smooth print that lacked any hesitation, there was a new line underneath.

'Yes :)'

"I only tried on fifty different dresses to decide on the fit and style of what I wanted." You say with a slight laugh, unzipping the garment bag that held your dress.

Coryo was sitting on your bed, like he often did, hands fidgeting in his lap. Fifty dresses to him seemed unnecessary, certainly you looked just fine in the very first one all the way through to the very last. But he did understand how seriously your family took your dresses, for both your performances and events like the one you would be attending together.

"That's... that's a fair few dresses." He laughs with a small nod, gazing into your closet and away from you for just a moment, trying to get a glimpse at your performance gowns you had stashed in bags and lining the wall. It's a wonder you had room for everything, he knew you had never tossed or re-worn a single one- all large in either sheer poofiness and volume, or bright colours and patterns that drew the eye and held them hostage in your form. Sometimes both. Coryo was never sure if it was the intent to make you look like a princess from a fairytale, but a few times a year he got to see you look just like one. What he imagined them all to be, anyway, when recalling the storybooks his mother read to him and left on the untouched shelves in his should-have-been baby sister's nursery.

"Yes, well, I wanted it to be perfect." You hum, pulling the dress out of the bag and turning to him, holding it up against your chest. "Thoughts?"

Coryo nods in response, swallowing hard. The dress was stunning, and the colour was rich- it would compliment the tones of your skin and hair beautifully. He had very little technical knowledge of fashion, but what had trickled into his mind from Tigris would lead him to believe it would be complimentary to you.

But he had no idea how he would match that.

The last of his father's salvageable dress clothes was that shirt Tigris is working on for the reaping ceremony in a couple of months, and he couldn't possibly wear that twice. If she could even salvage it. Maybe he should ask her to prioritize making it into something that would better match your dress, or just wear it plain white with the black stripes to the gala instead, so he would at least feel worthy of standing at your side. Then he could wear his academy uniform on reaping day, and claim he forgot the occasion. Would that be believable?

No, of course not. That's the day the Plinth Prize will be awarded.

Hopefully to him. Definitely to him, he had to pray. He was never a religious man- no one really was anymore, but reading about it in pre-Panem history textbooks, he couldn't deny the temptation to beg some higher power for help.

The prize would solve everything.

"You like it?" You ask, drawing him from his internal panic and he nods, smiling.

"Yeah, yes. Wow. It's lovely." He nods, clearing his throat.

"Thank you." You grin, looking down at the dress and smoothing it against your leg a bit to try and get another good look at it yourself.

You let out a soft sigh of contentment before hanging it back up. "Anyway, do you want to do like a matching thing, or is that tacky?" You ask, turning to face him again.

Coryo purses his lips in thought, drumming his fingers on his lap. "I'm not sure. Are other people matching?"

You knew about his situation, of course, though he wasn't fond of talking about it. Obviously not, who would be? It never bothered you, at the end of the day he was still your best friend- even if he never let you come over to the renowned Snow penthouse unless it was some kind of emergency. Regardless, as far as the two of you knew, you were the only one outside of his family who had any idea. And you both intended to do everything you could to keep it that way.

"I think so, I heard some of the other girls talking about it." You say with a shrug. "Just something simple like a matching tie or something, we don't have to go crazy with it."

"Right." He nods, thinking it over.

"Here," You say after a moment, reaching into the bottom of the garment bag and pulling out a much smaller plastic bag with fabric samples in it from when your dress was made. "I asked for more extra than they would normally give for fabric samples, in case we wanted to match. I was hoping we could ask Tigris to make a tie or a pocket square or something, or maybe cover your cuffs with it." You suggest, sitting on the bed next to him and holding out the bag.

His heart aches as he reaches out to take it from your soft hands. It's hard to place, almost- whether or not it's gratefulness or loathing of the fact you had considered such a thing at all. Attending an event with a Snow should not include the accommodation of whether or not they could afford to dress accordingly.

The bitterness fades and settles into thankfulness for you, and all you do for him. Silently. Without discussion, without real, significant thought.

You could be friends with anyone; the girls with wealth enough to bathe in like your own, Sejanus Plinth, even, whose family quite literally bought their way into the Capitol. But you chose him.

Granted, when you chose him, you didn't have the slightest clue of the financial state of his family name, but even when you had stumbled across that fact, it didn't deter you. Coriolanus often wonders why, but who was he to question it? Hell, sometimes he wonders if the roles had been reversed, would he have been so gracious?

"Thanks." Coryo mutters, clearing his throat and nodding. "I mean, she's the expert, so I'll talk to her about what she thinks will work best."

"Yeah, that's probably a good idea." You agree with a soft laugh that makes him smile by instinct alone. He couldn't help it.

"Um, I meant to ask," Coryo says after a moment, tucking his feet up on the bed and sitting back a bit, getting more comfortable. "Did your coach agree to let you change your song for the year end gala? The one you pitched to her, that was really good. You did amazing. At least, in my opinion but I don't really know what I'm talking about."

"Thank you." You reply through a sigh, laughing slightly as you flop back on the soft cushioned duvet next to him. "But, yes and no. Yes she's letting me do something other than 'Never Enough', but it's not that song I showed her while you were there. She said it was too long and would disrupt the entire schedule, which, in hindsight does make sense and I wouldn't want to do that to everyone else."

"Well, what is it?" Coryo replies, eager to hear something new from you. It was special, he knew that it was. He had seen first hand how badly you wanted to do something else.

You smile, looking up at him as he leaned back on his hands next to you, blue eyes searching yours as if they could somehow portray the answer sooner than your lips- despite you knowing it would be a song he's never heard or even heard of before.

"I decided on something else. It's gonna be a surprise." You answer with a small, almost sly smile while you prop yourself up on your elbow, gazing up at him with your chin in your palm. "But you're gonna love it, I think."

You really hoped he would, at least.

While Coryo protests, tries to squeeze the information out of you in the light-hearted way only a best friend could, you don't budge. The song in title and content reminds you far too much of him; of his pretty face, and electric soul.

no taglist this time around!! my fics usually get over a hundred requests to be added to the taglist so instead i made a library! follow me over on @runningfrom2am-library and turn on notifs to get updates when i post new parts!!

[eroguron0nsense]

Late Night Luffy's Dream Theory

So I've heard a fair amount of speculation about what Luffy's dream is after he becomes Pirate King, and by extension, what Roger's dream was (recall Yamato's flashback confirming that Luffy's dream–which Ace shared with him in their long tipsy conversation/totally not a night of passion–is "the same thing the Pirate King" said.) Fan speculation about Luffy's real dream ranges from things like "host the biggest party in the world", to "go to the moon", "make a country of pirates" etc but I've always found something fundamentally unsatisfactory about these, and I'll throw my hat in the ring to narrow down the possibilities.

To recap, the information we have about Luffy's dream is as follows: -Both times the dream is alluded to, it's at the end of what I and probably a bunch of other people personally conceive of as major sagas pre and post TS that both culminate in a major battle featuring EVERYONE WE'VE SEEN AND MORE –It's something that Roger, battle-hardened and well into his 40s or 50s–shared with Oden, that was documented in Oden's journal and partially inspired Yamato's unshakeable faith in Luffy –The Straw Hats, Ace, and Sabo are all shocked to hear it and ask if he's fully serious, but several of them support it immediately and the others remain protective over it and swear they'll see Luffy's ambition through. Jinbe, Nami, and Usopp are in disbelief, Chopper and Franky are excited, Robin is stunned, but looks hopeful or contemplative rather than derisive or amused, etc. –Ace and Sabo laugh as children, but swear to themselves that they'll protect Luffy's dream and won't let anyone mock it. As he's dying, Ace tells Luffy that he truly, truly believes Luffy will pull it off, and he's only sorry he couldn't see him make that dream a reality. –Shanks found it really funny, but is repeatedly shown stating he thinks that this ridiculous fucking child he met is going to be the future of the next pirate era, implying that he has some degree of faith in this child he (likely) recognizes as the inheritor of Roger's will Luffy's dream is repeatedly referred to as "crazy", or in some cases, "a child's fantasy", but also implied to be something really pure, ambitious, and highly unlikely but theoretically possible.

When I come up with fan theories, I tend to approach them less from a "textual evidence" standpoint than a "what would pack the biggest emotional punch and tie into the message/arc/etc that we've been shown thus far" one, and that tends to inform which popular ones I buy into (e.g. I am about 50-60% convinced that Law death will be a thing because, Chekhov's gun aside, Law's been in fucking crisis and unsure of what he'll do as his own man free of Cora's legacy and tries to emulate him in Wano. And while I think there's still a good chance he'll survive to the end for other reasons, there's also potential for a LOT of bittersweet beauty in him repeating what happened to him in childhood by quite literally passing on his heart and life to someone else). Considering what would be emotionally resonant and feel anywhere near as earned as what it's been built up to over two whole fucking sagas, Luffy's dream has to be something absurdly ambitious and thematically resonant. I do not think, if Luffy's dream were something like "I want to go to the moon", that Yamato would hold faith in him through impossibly oppressive circumstances, or that the audience would care like, at all. So if the dream is tied to something at the core of Luffy's character and the underlying themes of the entire series, what does Luffy represent, and what's the point of One Piece? Luffy is, at this point in the story and honestly long before, the embodiment of this sort of radical, almost anarchic humanism pervading the entire series that seeks to bring genuine freedom, joy, and peace to people everywhere he goes. Even before any divine or joy boy associations, he's a bringer of dawn, a warrior of liberation, and a worker of miracles because he sees injustice happening around him and instantly rejects it. He tears down oppressors everywhere he goes, and he's eventually going to bring that reckoning to the World Government and Blackbeard and every other might-makes-right, brutal, thoughtless hierarchical oppressor stopping their helpless victims from living free, full, happy lives. And critically, he's the inheritor of a crazy, radical dream that'll shake the world because god knows One Piece loves to talk about inherited will/dreams/legacy.

One Piece's broadly radical leftist humanism isn't based in naïveté either; it's very clear that this liberation is preceded by endless failures. Joyboy fails to stop any of what happens and writes letters of apology, Roger dies before he can realize the dream, and all the while countless atrocities are going on with at least 3 Islands we know of and two whole races having their genocides all but done to completion. Kuma suffers immensely waiting for the Dawn, and effectively loses his life and humanity before it can come, still holding on to his belief in Nika. But none of these things will stop the coming of liberation. Every genocide and attempt to purge the politically inconvenient–Ohara, Flevance, the Lunarians, the persecution of the Buccaneers–leaves survivors or inheritors, with Law, Kuma, and Robin in particular playing central roles in saving or aiding Luffy, the bringer of Dawn. The purge of Ohara fails to destroy the records permanently. The fucking biblical infanticides at Baterilla and the end of Roger's bloodline doesn't stop Luffy from inheriting Roger's will and his brother's legacy. Luffy isn't so much a predestined messiah as he is the inheritor of a legacy of resistance and hope that cannot be killed because as long as someone lives, they will dream of the brand of hope and justice that he embodies. No matter how hard you try, or how violently you suppress people, how many legacies or bloodlines or rebels you put to death, people will survive and carry on those legacies or pick up where your victims left off because you can't kill ideas, you can't kill truth, you can't kill dreams, and you can't kill the basic human desire for joy and freedom. I think the "Child's Fantasy" thing we see associated with Luffy's dream is key to this whole mystery. Wano's the arc in which we get the closest, most explicit declarations of Luffy's ideals, in which his core motivation for defeating Kaido–besides helping Momo and his friends seek justice and overthrow an oppressor–is to make sure everyone in the country can eat their fill. It's the kind of thing you wish for as a child–an end to world hunger, world peace, homes for the homeless, an end to prejudice–before a thousand and one adults feed you the lie that it's impossible to redistribute resources, that being crushed by hierarchical oppressive power is natural, or that some people are undeserving of life or basic rights and therefore deserve to be harmed by the powers that be. Before your parents and teachers and other people lecture you on the necessity of Authority and Capitalism and Hegemony or what have you and convince you that a certain number of people simply have to suffer and die to preserve the Proper and Legitimate Hierarchy, that the powerful deserve to be where they are and that victims of these systems deserve it. It'll be something very much like his hopes for Wano in the face of the oppression of Kaidou and Orochi, or the World Government creeping up on them afterward with Ryokugyu loudly announcing that the oppression of the have-nots is the rightful and good state of the world. It'll be a simple, basic hope for good things for him and his friends and all the great people they love, something perfectly possible and right and just and joyful that people have been raised to think of as an impossibility. A place where people can eat their fill, where there's water in parched lands, where people aren't being strangled by heavenly tributes. A world where they can be free. A reality where everyone can be happy, where dreams come true.

[sanschips]

MCctober 2024 Prompt: Introduce your OC!

I made a comic introduction for Mari! with this, I am also happy to announce that for this month I'll be making mock comic strips out of the prompt list as practice for a future Hogwarts Legacy 7th-year comic! <3 the comic would mainly revolve around episodic shenanigans between the HL characters 2 years after fifth year, and I'd love to try and post it on AO3! aside from Seb x MC story, I'd love to focus on the other characters as well :> If that's something you're interested in, please do tell coz I'd love to hear your feedback on it! thank you @lamieboo for the prompt list <33

[thisnameisnotspokenfor]

The Breaking point Analysis

Warning: do not read this post if you have not read chapter 36! You have been WARNED

Also I wrote this when I was sleepy at 2 am so sorry if it doesn’t make any sense.

Now I usually try to avoid making posts where I openly discuss stuff in my story- but after all the issues this chapter gave me- I wanted to do this.

The breaking point is a weird chapter for me it’s both one of my favorite and least favorite chapters- but it’s a contradictory chapter within itself. It’s one that is both a payoff and build up in a sort of way…

Think about it in Chapter 33 Tomas writes this in his journal:

‘To die and leave behind so many unfinished things was my worst fear. A fear that may very well become a reality given my current situation. “You expect me to still be alive by then?”

What was Tomas’s worst fear became Asha’s breaking point, and it’s all so tragic when you realize the similarities between the two. Both were fairly young when they got to meet the stars and ended up running into trouble with the crimson court or a seperate entity armed with similiar powers. Both being novices had to rely on a yellow/blue star to keep them safe while said star worked with an ulterior motive.

It’s strange right?

We don’t know how Tomas’s adventure or experience with Sirius ended. All we know for now is that he did not want his daughter to get involved in his past/legacy. Which ofc in and of itself can and does bring up a lot of questions but the worst part is that Tomas is gone and now he’ll never get a chance to fairly explain himself to his daughter. Their relationship and perhaps even her perception of him will change because of this which is something I think we could all say wouldn’t have been something Tomas would have ever wanted.

For all the work Tomas put in to build and help others he couldn’t stop his worst fear from coming true- and that’s what makes it all even worse.

But the tragedy or rather my favorite part of the breaking point isn’t just there- it’s in everything Asha doesn’t say, or rather what she inadvertently confronts herself with.

When Asha’s justification for the past 5 years of her life unravels who do we see appear before her? Everyone higher on the social ladder, with even the apprentices making sneer remarks on how Asha was never one of them, how she’s unwanted or mocking her for Cepheus. It’s a sharp contrast to how she dismisses their mistreatment of her, but deep down she does care and it really does bother her

So many things she’s told Ceph that she’s seemingly gotten over comes back to haunt her in this conversation- not having powers, not having a noble title or not being able to win Ignacio’s heart, not being able to believe in wishes after the power failed to save her father and grandmother but it’s not just her realizing it, but it’s her hating herself for it.

She hates herself so much that she believes all the mistreatment she receives is justified because of it. She hates herself for purposelessly existing in a world with so many fantastical beings and people. But most of all she blames herself for not being able to save her father and grandmother.

Remember this line from Chapter 33? It’s the question Sabino confronts her with:

“Do you think your father would’ve valued this kingdom over the wellbeing of his only daughter?”

And Asha cannot answer. She in fact just changes the subject!

But it’s worth mentioning the things she thinks in that moment:

The answer seemed so obvious, but their unfinished star maps and broken dreams had made her wonder.

Shes doubting the love her father had for her (which has aged like cheese lol) because remember she could plan to make star maps in advance with him but all magnifico had to do was show up one night and her father would promptly cancel with her. We see this in one of her dreams:

Chapter 12: the dream

“Papa?” she whispered.

“Tomorrow,” he said softly, in a tone that made her heart sink.

That was what he’d always tell her on nights when he was too busy to take her stargazing. When his friend would come to whisk him away for weeks, maybe even months at a time.

Her heart began to ache as she cast the beautifully clear sky a glance, knowing that tonight would not be the night she’d spend perfecting her star map with her father.

It’s an arguably selfish realization to reach, but I suppose in the mind of someone with deep insecurity and terrible self loathing it’s just a hint of the cracks about to form in their relationship. given what we know now it’s one that I think has aged with a terrible vengeance as Asha’s mind seems to think that the reason why her father wouldn’t let her know about his legacy is because she’s a disappointment.

You can even see it here in how she contemplates the question.

Why wouldn’t he? Between her and the kingdom, at least the kingdom had offered a sense of refuge and hope for its people. What had she done? Other than crying, failing, and running around aimlessly, not much. Everything she’d achieved and promised had only been because of the star, not herself.

What is said in chapter 36:

“Are you?” the king asked, watching as she hesitated . “Because the last time I checked, you and your lack of powers weren’t the reason that it got fixed.

“Or the reason that the market got decorated,” Lady Allard sobbed, as she gingerly held her bandaged arm.

Chapter 33:

There’s a reason why her father’s projects and dreams had never gotten off the ground. How could they when he had an unspectacular daughter like her at the helm of each project? Her poor father, if only he’d known just how doomed his projects had been when he’d promised her that they could build them together.

What Velius tells her in Chapter 36:

“You accomplish nothing yet you still manage to cause more trouble than you are worth. Then you wonder why people struggle to believe in the projects and ideas you helm.”

What Asha thinks in chapter 33:

Maybe he should’ve wished for a better daughter…

Whats said in chapter 36 by the king:

Maybe your grandmother and father still would’ve been here as they’d not only have the child they deserved but one that could have ultimately saved them…”

((I don’t think it’s a coincidence))

But it’s very funny to see it when you realize that last chapter (chapter 35) she tells Ceph this:

“But that resilience wasn’t enough to save her from a broken heart…our wishes weren’t enough…nothing we did was enough!..” she nearly yelled as her eyes narrowed. Disgust and anger filled her as she spat, “After that…I just couldn’t bring myself to believe in them again…how could I? All I’d ever wanted was for my Dad to be healthy again, and for my family to be whole once more…Was that so wrong to wish for?

But now we see that it’s Not just the wishes that isn’t enough, but herself. And maybe that’s why she can’t wish for anything because deep down she feels like it just won’t come true because she isn’t deserving of it.

That’s why she doesn’t bother challenging magnifico about his wish granting despite knowing that he’ll definitely pass over some urgent wishes. It’s not because she inherently agrees with it but it’s because she doesn’t think she has the place to say otherwise especially to someone like magnifico who is the opposite of her.

Then there’s the part about her feelings for Ceph. Hearing that he was entertained and pursued by princesses has to be absolutely crushing when you realize Asha’s financial situation and the girls she notices he happily entertains.

But that’s not even the worst part- notice how she calls out her grandfather for this:

“Mean?!” her grandfather stammered. “He’s the one leading you on and making your life harder, yet you call me the mean one?!”

She responds with this:

“Cepheus isn’t leading me on! Saba why can’t you just understand that he’s only trying to help me because he’s my friend?!”

And later confessed that Cepheus is one of the few bright spots in her life:

“He’s the only reason you got out of that forest unharmed!” Asha cried as she pointed at her grandfather. “The only reason why I got to stay home…and the only reason why the tree got healed! If he hadn’t been there then…then…” her voice trailed off as she took in the shocked expression on her grandfather’s face. But it had been the disappointment in both the eyes of her mother and grandfather that had hurt her far more than the assassins had as she lowered her head, whispering, “I…I can’t take it anymore! Everything has been so terrible for me lately, everything except for this, for him!

But ironically we see later on that her argument is used against her.

The guilt over the Clariveaus, the queen, Julian and lady Allard also eat away at her as well, reminding her that no matter just how much she comes to care and Cepheus, that deep down she’s just as responsible as he is for the suffering he’s caused.

She even hears the figures say that Cepheus is incapable of ever loving her back or is only using her for what he wants. She likens it to her experience with Ignacio, which if you think about it does sorta share some similarities.

Then there’s the helplessness she feels despite giving him credit. Even before Asha spirals you can see it usually eating away at her as she starts to think that maybe Magnifico’s advisors had a point. And it’s not just a point she hates conceding too but rather one that haunts her so badly that she fears that if she moves elsewhere her experience will repeat itself.

“I don’t think you can. You could move away, but the results would still be the same. I don’t need you, nor does the world for that matter. Our power far exceeds anything your little science could compensate you with…

On a side note I honestly feel as if jealousy is an unspoken facet of Asha’s character because it’s so deeply hidden behind the insecurities that it’s hard to tell. But I think the jealousy is born not so much out of a yearning to have but moreso a yearning to belong. She wants so badly to be trusted, to be understood and maybe even loved, but after so many failures I think she’s come to realize that it’s not worth the risk. She’s terrified of failure and the burn that comes with it.

She compared herself to Icarus at one point- reaching for stars that would consistently burn her. But isn’t there something ironic about someone who is so deeply insecure, so self-loathing who doesn’t even think she deserves the most simplest of things to compare themselves to a cautionary tale of overconfidence, and ambition?

But there’s one more thing I would like to bring up:

Why would Asha want to burn her storybook? It’s full of fairy tales isn’t it? Something similiar to the world she lives in and wants to be apart of. But the reasoning that the ‘king’ gives to her is that ‘she doesn’t deserve it.’

I personally believe that this sorta extends beyond the physical sense- so it’s not the king saying she doesn’t deserve to physically have the book but moreso she doesn’t deserve to entertain herself with fairy tale like dreams when none of hers ever came true. It’s her self loathing in full display because that book used to be everything she ever represented, and she was going to burn the symbol of who she once was, who she once dreamed to be in a perfect world along with the book of her dreams for how she turned out in the real world. Completely and utterly destroying her future and aspirations because she no longer knows who she is.

It’s not until she sees herself in a mirror looking completely worn down and broken just like how the rest of the world sees her, and maybe like how the audience sees her, does she stop. Because now she realizes that she no longer knows what she’s doing.

And for someone like Asha who never usually confronted a problem without some semblance of a plan, who always bore things with a smile because she believed in an ultimate purpose, perphaps that’s the saddest part of it all.

[darkpoisonouslove]

HotD S02E02

My thoughts are still all over the place. I wasn't able to watch the episode yesterday and seeing some very vague spoilers had me shaking with curiosity and the need to watch it. It was my first order of business for today and I did like this more than last episode! Of course, the writers will never not be on their Blacks agenda but that could never stop me from loving the Greens even more. And believe it or not, I wasn't super annoyed by the Blacks this episode. Except for Daemon, of course. More about it all under the cut:

The chaos in the beginning and that bloodied sheet did more than showing any actual gore would have imo. And later in the episode when they're taking apart the crib and you see a man carrying a white mattress and you know it will be bloody on the other side only for him to turn it around and the sight still gut-punching you despite that. Especially because the mattress is so small; it's clearly for a child. Ohhhhhhhhhhh.

Aegon smashing the Valyria Lego set was 10/10. Good for him! Unfortunately, I made the mistake of looking at people's opinions and the idea that that's a symbol of him destroying Viserys' legacy and being rash and unfit to be king to differ from his father is just… Lesson learned! Do NOT fucking engage with any HotD content that's out in the wild and hasn't come from my carefully curated tumblr circle.

That said, yes, this is Aegon destroying Viserys' work and thank god! Aegon is rightfully mad about what has been done to his child to differ from Viserys, who just stood by and did fuck all when his son was mutilated. I may not agree with the way Aegon proceeded to handle things but at least he fucking did something! Take notes, Viserys!

That Otto and Alicent scene! The way he (belatedly) tries to offer some kind of comfort and she pushed him away because she's drowning in guilt! She thinks this is all because of her and she doesn't want any comfort, especially since there won't be any for Helaena (and Aegon). I am SOBBING!

That Small Council meeting! I could never put all my emotions and thoughts about it in words but it was just… VERY GOOD! I love how Aegon brings up the fact that Rhaenyra's sons are bastards right before throwing a cup. Because what was he doing when the murder of his son was happening? He was drinking and mocking his nephews while trying to come up with titles for himself. He feels guilty but he cannot express that in any capacity just like he's not afforded enough space for his grief and anger. There's always the next thing that has to be done, the next performance to be acted out. Every move has to be calculated in order to benefit him and his family rather than harm them and he's just… not good at that. In general. But also, in this specific moment it's completely understandable that he's not good at that. He shouldn't have to be! Alicent herself lost her temper when her child was mutilated and she got burned too. Oh, this must be awful for her to watch and still have to guide Aegon away from his outbursts.

(If anyone wants to come after Criston for having sex with Alicent, you can fuck right off! The man cannot be expected to be guarding the family 24/7 and it was made clear that it wasn't his watch at that time. Even if it was, he guards Alicent's chambers so he still wouldn't have been able to do anything. The writers just decided to remove all the guards from the premises and would now love to throw the blame onto Criston. Same with that "why wasn't Helaena given a sworn protector?" line. Because then they would have actually needed to write something clever instead of employing the most brain dead conveniences, silly! Why else?)

Larys interrupting like "Hello! I have been efficient! :)"

Love when Aegon went "Hey, you know what? Maybe I should kill everyone!" I knew he'd do that!. He's such a volatile little shit and YET… cannot even compare with his grandfather.

Otto in this episode is hateable and yet so, so correct and necessary. I loved all of that. He is such an opportunist and that's why he's been in the game for so long! And his advice makes total sense on a strategic level. All they have to do is disregard all their emotions like he's guided and coerced them to do all their lives… Sir… SIR… *crying* this is all your fault (I mean the fact that they're all emotionally stunted, not the war (though to be fair, he's largely responsible for that too)). Sir, the monster that you are.

I especially adore the contrast between Aegon and Otto. In the face of such unmoved calculation, Aegon's pain is front and center of the scene. He doesn't want his son to be used as a prop to win the war. And he turns to Alicent for advice because he knows that she has empathy and understands his emotions, his agony, that she's not pure strategy like her father only for her to tell him that they have to be strategic at the moment and then end up forced into the performance herself. The way that she keeps enabling Otto's exploitation of their lowest moments because that's all they've ever done, because they're trapped in this song and dance now.

It becomes even more cutting in the scenes with Helaena, who just wants her pain to be private, doesn't want to be gawked at by people she doesn't know. Them sharing her pain doesn't bring any consolation because they're not sharing anything. To them she's a symbol and even if they understand the pain of losing a child, they cannot understand her pain of losing her child. Only Aegon can and not in the exact same capacity as her so in the end, they just stare at each other without words and then keep on walking past one another. But the way that she had a panic attack at so much freely given "sympathy" for her pain only to search for some from him and he can't really offer it because they don't speak the same language and he cannot let his guard down in that way and be vulnerable when he's already been weakened as king and no one takes him seriously, and he's grappling for any shred of power, hungering for any violence he can do to someone just to feel a little bit less helpless, and he knows that that's not what she needs and he can give her nothing, which just makes him feel even weaker… Nnnnnnnngh, I am howling in pain!!!!!

The way Blood was acting all tough and menacing last episode only to instantly spill everything just at the sight of Larys was peak performance! Shows how pathetic he is and how scary Larys is. He has worked for that reputation and people really should be afraid of him. But then Aegon steps onto the scene and just bashes that guy's head in. Any wonder Criston and Aegon have teamed up to head the Club of Bad Decisions?

I have to admit that I thoroughly enjoyed the fight between Daemon and Rhaenyra. I like that she said she's never fully trusted him and that she was visibly afraid of him and expected him to try to choke her again. Only other thing that should have happened was her feeding Daemon to her dragon tbh (yes, we're back to the Daemon hate).

Initially, I found the scene between Rhaenyra and Baela touching but then I remembered that Rhaenyra didn't allow Jace to scout King's Landing, probably being afraid he'd be killed like Luke, but it's okay to send Baela, I guess. Who cares if she dies? I did want to take this as her trusting Baela but I just cannot gloss over the fact that she was so swift to forbid Jace from doing the exact thing that she's sending Baela to do.

Not Criston projecting like crazy onto Ser Arryk. I have to admit that that was amusing. Also, as someone said, that plan to assassinate Rhaenyra is "not the worst" that has ever been hatched around these parts.

I liked the scene with Jace and Baela for the fact that she knows about him being a bastard and they talk so openly about it. Both of them have gotten nothing so far and they are also trapped in performances (just like team Green) that this was interesting but also… I can't latch onto any character conflicts or development when we've barely seen anything from those characters.

Aemond, my man, you desperately need to be teleported to a therapist. Those mommy issues are running rampant! The fact that he was so angry at Alicent last episode only to then show that he completely understands why she was mad at him in this one and say all those things that he should have said to her to someone, who's clearly meant to represent Alicent. This would all be 10 000x more efficient if he just said all that to his mother but he just cannot because he cannot be vulnerable in front of her when she's disappointed with him since he's so used to being Mommy's Special Boy. Him and Aegon are such foils in that regard.

Am I the only one who got the impression that Rhaenys is ready to get into some Otto Hightower-type shit and "guide" Rhaenyra to where she wants her?

I'm getting tired of typing so let's wrap this up. Aegon's course of actions is not the smartest but I cannot blame him for it… too much. But seriously, showing the dog mourning Cheese was fucking awful. That dog should be trying to scale the wall and rip his corpse apart after he kicked it last episode. Get the fuck out of here with this!

I was very much cackling during that enire scene with Aegon and Otto. Otto may dislike it all he wants but the two of them are much more similar than he'd like to admit. The second they are hurt, they bring out all their cruelty to strike back. But also, Otto's "the apocalypse is upon us" faces were absolutely priceless! I do want him to stay simply for the fact that he always stirs so much shit but at this point the events don't need his help and Criston and Aegon are absolutely going to Fuck Shit Up TM so things are good anyway.

The Erryk and Arryk fight was crazy! There's zero way to tell who's who but the fact that another guard showed up and instead of leading Rhaenyra away to a safe place (and finding reinforcements) after she was almost sis kebabed twice… makes me think that all the guards are just stupid. There's just a force in Westeros that affects all guards and makes them absolute morons.

I did know spoilers about the book, though, so I was wondering how this will go down. Since obviously both of them had to die but that scene was having a clear winner. I did not expect him to take himself out but yeah, that makes sense. Really makes both the twins and their fate so tragic (would have been nice if we'd been led to care more about them while they were still alive, though).

Otto and Alicent having a touching moment and finally truly seeming on the same page and having a genuine understanding between them only for him to cut her off like that again… Ouch!

SURPRISE DAERON MENTION, AAAAAAAAAAAAH! Finally, a sneak attack from the writers that isn't meant to upset me!

Alicent wanting to comfort Aegon and then just… choosing not to as if she's passing down Otto's disapproval and tendency to punish her (whether she's done anything or not) through emotional distance. They are all so damaged! MY BABIES!!!!!!! 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

The scene with Criston… The kiss was hot but I wish they would actually give them a whole scene where they talk. I cannot believe we got Corlys x Rhaenys pillow talk but we are yet to get anything on Alicent and Criston, who are a newly established relationship. I want to know more about Criston's perspective on this! If he feels so much guilt (which he obviously does), why did he even start this? Let him be a dimensional character with his own agency, dammit! I don't like how they are making him look like Alicent's lost little puppy dog the way he just doesn't really display any kind of agency in their interactions. And the way that they've ended both episodes with them having sex even though Alicent said they wouldn't anymore/was angry at him makes it look like the narrative is passing judgment. Like "Oh, god, these two are fucking again when everyone else is having a really bad time. Can you believe the nerve? *eye roll*"

That's it for this week. I cannot wait to see how much messier the Greens will get next time. Somehow they keep winning with their characterization despite the writers' best efforts!

[toonedupfiction]

Thank you @bookie-bookdust for tagging me in the WIP Tag Game!!!

Rules: Share a snippet of whatever you are working on and tag five people.

***

A small snippet from the chapter I am currently working on for Legacy Disowned

***

“Don't push me,” the girl said as she made to bend his wand threateningly, insinuating she'd break it if she had to. But then her mocking grin faltered as she discovered how thick and dense it was, offering no give whatsoever.

“What's wrong sweetheart,” he smirked. “Girthier than you're used to?”

FWAPPP

“OW! Fuck!” Arsene cursed as the blunt, handle end of his own wand cracked him across the bridge of his nose. “What the hell you little brat!”

"Got something else funny to say?" she taunted.

Arsene, in fact, did have many other very funny things to say, but given the way her knee was digging into his back.... it was probably not wise to push her....

...

"Ya know if you preferred to be the one in control darlin' you should have just said— OOOOF"

This time, it was the Sallow kid who had gripped him by the hair and sent his face smashing hard into the floor. A moment later, he found the white hot tip of a yew wand mere centimeters from his eye.

***

No pressure tags(hopefully you haven't already been tagged: @smile-arigatou @totomoowrites @ravenwind-75 @gingerlegacy07 @deadeyedoodles

[two-white-butterflies]

coaxed you into paradise - c. 14

Description: The life of Saera Targaryen told in four acts. She was her father's forgotten daughter, cast aside as she looked nothing like her mother. Her younger days were spent beside her uncle. Years following her marriage with Ser Harwin Strong, she catches him in an affair with her older sister. She returns to seek solace in the arms of her uncle, that she's loved all her life.

(Coaxed You Into Paradise and High Infidelity Rewrite.)

masterlist for this series

Chapter Fourteen: Reformation

Daemon slams his hand loudly on his brother’s desk - rage simmering inside his purple irises. “Your city has fallen to greed and incompetence.” he bemoaned - teeth bumping into each other with the last syllable. His brother takes a deep and cautious breath, thinking of ways to shoot down his accusations. “What is the meaning of this, brother?” the King asked. 

“My men tell me that Ser Harwin is not properly executing his duties.” he accused, still staring at his brother with a dragon’s wrath. “You mean, he’s not executing people.” Viserys mocked, laughing at his humor. 

“Well he’s not saving people either.” Daemon defended. 

He wanted to kill the Commander of the ‘Yellow Cloaks’ for his irresponsibility. He’s built the entire thing from scratch - and now all that’s left of his legacy - turns tarnished. “The nobles are satisfied with his work.” Viserys asserted, leaning on his chair with particular uneasiness. 

“Nobles like Otto and Lancel.” he snides. 

“I’d be happy if you were commander, brother - but I am King. I cannot give positions just because I desire it.” Viserys reasons, and his brother’s posture grows weak and without confidence. The only person who could hurt Daemon was Viserys - and he has done so countless times. 

“Do I not deserve the position?” he insinuated, Viserys’ eyes softened. “Of course you do.” His brother was quick to comfort. “ - but Harwin has only started his post, it would be rude to take it away.” he chuckled nervously, thinking that Daemon would agree with him. 

“You are dismissed, brother.” Viserys dismissed, not waiting for his reply. 

—

Saera’s hair was a sacred thing - only few were allowed to touch it. Mysaria continues braiding her hair, careful to not strain or pull on her hair. “I heard something last night, my princess.” she conveyed, placing a ruby clip on the silky locks. “What is it?” Saera raised her eyebrows. 

“It is about your husband, my princess.” Mysaria whispers. 

“And?” she hums - finding herself caring about his well being. They’ve been married for a year, and it was normal at this point. “ - and your sister.” Mysaria gossiped, pausing for a while to create suspense. 

“They’re friends - Harwin told me.” Saera shakes her head. He wouldn’t, right? They had a promise that they’d never lay with another person - despite having romantic feelings for them. Saera has held her bargain, denying her uncle from sleeping with her, but has he? 

“More than friends.” Mysaria reports, finishing the braid with ease. “One of my worms told me that - they could be heard last night.” She eases the information, not wanting to keep a single detail away from her lady and friend. 

“Heard?” she inquires, aware of the inflictions against her sister’s maidenhead. “ - Lord Laenor asserts that it was him, but the servants saw Ser Harwin enter.” Mysaria informs.

Saera bites the inner corner of her lips. 

“What an interesting turn of events.” she ponders. 

—

A year has passed since the start of Rhaenyra and Harwin’s affair - now they are blessed with a child. The Princess placed a hand on her stomach, it was swollen and round with pride. “The child will come any time now.” she smiled, sitting on one of her father’s garden beds. She was surrounded by her family, Saera, Daemon, Viserys and Harwin. 

“Have you thought of names?” Saera asks, reaching for a pastry on the round table. “Laenor insists upon Jacaerys and Aegon if they are boys, and I have chosen Daenerys and Rhaenys if they are girls.” Rhaenyra beams with pride - a smile that reaches her eyes. 

Saera was happy for her sister - glad that she was about to become a mother. Saera was yet to be with a child. She looked to her side, and Harwin was smiling at Rhaenyra. She was fuming at the sight of him - anger burning through her lungs. 

He was a man, it’s what they do. 

He can sleep with her sister all that he desires - but Saera? Gods be damned if she was in the presence of a man for more than a second. Rumors would spread and her reputation would be ruined. She did not hate her sister for finding love - but she hated Rhaenyra from hiding it, and flaunting her pregnancy. It was a punch on the face - hurting her pride. 

Daemon senses the deep thought within his niece - so he wraps his arms around her, smiling at her throughout the entire ordeal. They were together - but not sleeping with each other (she wasn’t comfortable with that yet.) He was happy, inquiring about the possibilities of him and Saera staying in Dragonstone. 

“Jacaerys is a wonderful name.” Harwin pipes out, smiling at the Princess. He was happy to provide comfort. “Fit for a prince, I say.” Viserys agrees. 

There was no doubt in her heart that Jacaerys would be loved. Loved by his fathers, and grandfather. “Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, the next King of the Seven Kingdoms.” Viserys breathes, his legacy was written in stone. 

The next rulers lay in front of him. 

—

Saera slams the door loudly, shaking the paintings on her uncle’s walls. “Qogralbar pōntoma! (Fuck them all)” she yelled, throwing a pillow in a random direction. “Saera, gīda ilagon. (calm down.)” Daemon commands firmly, and her eyes bolt in his direction. 

“Skorkydoso? (How?) Rhaenyra never wanted to become a mother - I wanted to be, and the gods have denied that.” she fumes with rage. 

Daemon takes a step in her direction, wrapping his arms around her body. Embracing her with a warmth that only an uncle could provide. He lifts his hand, combing through her hair - comforting her through her rage. “There is a reason for everything, little girl.” he hums, pressing a small kiss on her cheek. 

“I feel useless, they all whisper behind my back - my marriage with Harwin is longer, and yet I am the last one to have a child.” She rested her head on Daemon’s shoulders. Allowing the tears to flow out of her eyes. “Do you want a child, ñuha riña?” he asked playfully, and she nodded her head. 

“Kessa, tepagon nyke iā riña kepus. (Yes, give me a child.)” she whispered, breaking the embrace and starting their kiss. 

He removes her corset with ease, allowing her gown to drop on the floor. It was the fastest that a piece of clothing has ever been taken off her. “How many?” he joked, slithering his hands to be pressed upon her chest - pushing her down the bed. His bed. 

“As many as you desire,” she responds - staring at him while he removes his tunic. She attempts to stand up and help him, but he pushes her down with a stare.

“Tubī iksis mirre nūmāzma ao, (Today is all about you,)” he proclaims, throwing his tunic in a random direction. 

He frees his cock, pumping it a few times at the sight of Saera in her underclothes. “Gevie,” he whispers - sending electric sparks all throughout her body. “Qogralbar nyke, (Fuck me,)” she cried out - the warmth in her legs began to pool. “Mazverdagon jorrāelagon naejot nyke, (Make love to me.)” he corrected with a smirk and she nodded her head. 

“Please,” she whispered and he lifted the hem of her underwear, exposing her unclothed body. His hands grazed the tops of her cunt. She smelt like strawberries, and he craved that. He leans down, taking a lick of her pearl - a smile playing at his lips as they share a stare. He taps her thighs, telling her to look at him - and she does, ignoring the pleasure that told her to close her eyes. 

He takes another lick - slurping and lapping at her insides. His tongue expertly reached her g-spot in no time. Tonight wasn’t about Daemon. It was about pleasuring his gorgeous girl. She was divine - and he knows every part of him. Every indent, every scar - he memorized it. 

A moan escaped her mouth. 

He stops licking, moving to her level. He presses a kiss on her collarbone, and she lifts herself to a sitting position - both hands pinned by his own and her back in an angle that allows her to slump on the bed-frame. “I love you,” she whispered in his ears, hot breath sending shivers down his spine and engorging his lust. Saera, his god, one whose touch provided him comfort. He would die a hundred times if it meant sharing her bed. 

“You want me,” he taunted, lining his cock with her warm gaping hole. She nodded desperately - not wishing to be gone from her peak. “Use your words my little girl.” he bites the insides of his lips, his gaze met hers. 

“Please, I want you.” she begged, his fingers dancing up to her face - resting on her lips. He pressed another kiss on her - allowing her to taste her own juices. He shifts again, his body straddling her own. 

He positions his cock - inserts it into her, a smile entering his lips as her eyes rolled back in pleasure. “Yes,” she moans and he lets go of her hands, arms resting on her shoulder while bouncing on her - doing his best to be gentle, wishing only to provide her with pleasure and not fucking. 

He looks at her eyes - not wanting to be robbed of any moment with her. “Daemon,” she prays, burying her face in his chest. The pleasure sending a thousand moans out of her mouth. In his ears, it was the sound of heaven - her voice was akin to melody. 

They were burning. As dragons were supposed to. 

He releases his seed inside of her - womb brimming with seed. Daemon cared less - the peak that mattered was his wife’s, and he was going to give it to her. Saera’s grip on his tunic softened, her eyes and mouth gently opened. Another moan exits her mouth and her body slumps back on the bed-frame. Daemon pauses for a while, taking his sweet time in removing himself.

“Thank you,” she moans - he places a kiss on both of her cheeks. “I know that you feel pressured to have a child, but you shouldn’t worry about it. Kepus will provide,” he promises, and she lays down on the bed. 

“I know.” she whispers, wrapping her body with a warm blanket. 

next chapter>>

taglist. @sweetybuzz25 @newtsniffles @loveandlewis-reads @lovecleastrange @julkaamazing @schniiipsel @mirandastuckinthe80s @areaderinlove @i-yam-awesome @ladystardvsts @gracielikegrapes @sweethoneyblossom1 @issybee0611 @tato0od @daemonskelitsos @delaynew @thisbihreadstoomuch

[throwawayasoiafaccount]

Lyanna was not condemned, Rhaegar was the one who condemned her to death and left her son an orphan. I am not a fan of Sansa, in fact I hate her, but just as Joffrey is the villain of Sansa's story, Rhaegar is Lyanna's villain. Deep down, I feel that the only parallel is that both were left at the mercy of the people who killed their family. If that is so, it is very sad because both were victims of their horrible injustices.

hey anon,

i know what post you came from, but first i want to make something clear: that post of mine wasn’t some deep dive, i was simply pointing out some of the ways sansa foils lyanna. i made that post out of annoyance because i saw a few posts that called lyanna and sansa parallel characters.

secondly, i said lyanna was doomed, not condemned. those two words have vastly different connotations. also, i meant doomed in the sense that nothing could’ve saved her as the situation went out of her control and because she likely died from birthing complications.

now that i’ve said all that, i’ll get right into things.

robert baratheon is quite literally using sansa and joffrey as stand ins for his past unfilled betrothal. in my previous post, i briefly touched upon the reality that the lyanna foil, sansa, does not see under joffrey’s pretty guise like lyanna did with her own betrothed, which caused her much grief later on in her story. but honestly, this isn’t a 1:1 situation and i’ll try to explain why that is.

to start off, i will say that the lannisters do act as targaryen stand ins during the Wot5K, which has so many of the same plot beats as robert’s rebellion. and this is made pretty clear when we’re introduced to tywin and we learn he is attempting to literally replace the targaryen legacy/become the new targaryens, and it is also made clear by the lannister twins incest. however, just because grrm uses similar beats to flesh out both POV characters, background characters, and long dead characters, doesn’t mean sansa and lyanna’s situations are the same just because they were both involved with royal princes, and we know this because:

joffrey plays many more roles besides the crown prince, but when he did act as the crown prince he foiled rhaegar! one of joffrey’s first appearances is when he fights robb and later mocks robb for not using real steel. this is quite literally the opposite of rhaegar, who preferred books and singing and didn’t enjoy the song of swords. and later on when arya, who is paralleled to lyanna multiple times, defends herself against joffrey’s cruelty, joffrey decides to take her to his mother, an aerys stand in, to punish her along with the butchers boy, and is able to force things enough that lady is put to the sword. this contrasts against a long believed theory in this fandom (a theory that is well supported by the text), which is that rhaegar discovered lyanna was the knight of the laughing tree, hid her identity and didn’t turn her over to aerys. so, what little info we have of rhaegar paints him as someone who wasn’t violent by nature and protected women. joffrey is violent by nature and even sansa, when she was still making excuses for joffrey, could see that:

i fear i’ve digressed a bit away from what you actually brought up, but your ask itself is a bit difficult to answer because you’re simply stating your interpretations as fact.

so to get back to the core of your ask, i’ll restate your own words (your tone seems very matter of fact): ‘rhaegar was the one who condemned her to death and left her son an orphan.’

the reality is that this is very much not matter of fact and there is absolutely no way for you to be sure of any of this! do you have rhaegar’s POV? are you in his head? did you read his thoughts? how are you so sure in your unsupported beliefs that you’d so matter of factly state them to someone else?

also, claiming rhaegar left lyanna’s son, which we both clearly agree is jon snow, an orphan, so clearly ignores the reality, which is that rhaegar died! why would rhaegar, who we know had plans, want to die and leave his family behind?

though i believe you’re actually insinuating that rhaegar didn’t provide lyanna with enough medical staff, but this is something you simply cannot know. the tower of joy dream sequence we get is not what really happened! it was simply a dream ned had and the author himself has stated that the dream is more metaphorical in nature. to logically refute the idea that rhaegar left lyanna to die, i’d like to mention that ned holds absolutely zero animosity for rhaegar and doesn’t speak badly about him. if rhaegar left lyanna to die then why would ned have positive/neutral thoughts about rhaegar?

moving on, i stated before that joffrey plays many roles, so i want to get back to that in order to counter your belief that ‘the only parallel is that both were left at the mercy of the people that killed their family’:

joffrey, a prince rhaegar foil, also acts as an aerys parallel and as a robert baratheon foil/parallel. his aerys parallels are that 1) he executes the head of house stark, 2) under his rule wildfire is put to use, 3) he faces a rebellion from robb, who was surely named for robert and who acts as both a robert and ned stand in. 4) joffrey never actually leaves kings landing like aerys and was king, 5) he faces off against renly, a storm lord who looks strikingly similar to a young robert 6) he faces stannis, who’s robert’s legal heir (though stannis also has some aerys connections as well as he burns people alive). 7) the tyrell’s eventually join the lannisters side as well, which reinforces the idea that the lannisters, with joffrey at the helm, are targaryen stand ins in a metaphorical sense. and the shift from having more aerys parallels to robert parallels/foils is when the tyrell’s switch sides and join the lannisters to save kings landing from stannis. here wildfire is being used to protect the city/waste time until reinforcements ride in the save the day, which is the opposite of what happened in the sacking during the rebellion. and then tywin and the tyrell’s ride in to save the day, yada yada, support joffrey’s right as king, and after this margaery acts as a cersei stand in/foil, loras as a jaime parallel/foil, etc etc etc etc etc… i could literally go on and on and on! there’s just so much there!

but my main point with my previous paragraph is that this isn’t 1:1. a person can’t make blanket statements like you did and then not backup your statements with specific events from canon. because honestly…

how is sansa being held hostage the same as lyanna being kept safely away from aerys in dorne? unless you believe lyanna was held captive in the tower of joy, which makes absolutely no sense at all and is not supported by the text whatsoever. to be clear: lyanna and sansa were in contrasting situations. lyanna not being in kings landing, where brandon thought she was being held, is a very important supporting indicator that rhaegar and lyanna’s relationship was romantic and loving in nature and further contrasts sansa’s situation, which is that she was being held hostage and kept under the eye of a young mad king.

and tbh, i called sansa a character that often foiled lyanna, but she also shares a lot of very important parallels/contrasting moments with other female characters such as catelyn, lysa, cersei, and even elia (the unkiss with sandor is definitely a direct foiling of elias death). to repeat myself, the events of robert’s rebellion are not 1:1 to the events of tWot5K.

but you, with full certainty, state that rhaegar is lyanna’s villain like joffrey is sansa’s. sansa’s faced injustice when she was being held hostage after ned was imprisoned and executed. lyanna faced injustice when her family refused to break her betrothal to robert, a man she so clearly did not wish to marry, which likely led to her taking things into her own hands. one of the most prominent and well supported theories is that rhaegar was helping lyanna escape/disappear and that they eventually fell in love, which is supported by bael’s song, the song of the winter rose, jon snow learns. sansa, when she thought ned was unfairly breaking her betrothal, also took things into her own hands and actually ran to the enemies to stop ned. she’s eventually saved and taken from kings landing by baelish, another bael figure. however, i know lyanna and sansa’s situations contrast so i can be sure that sansa will not get pregnant and will likely not die.

i’m gonna end things here because i do not care to go over ever little detail and explain every little thing to you, especially since there is simply too much to go over.