#and defying destiny is boring

[kopfkino-o]

So you’re telling me we were given “mates aren’t always right for one another” and “mating bonds can be rejected” and “what if the cauldron is wrong” just to get…

Mates actually always being right for one another. No mating bond ever rejected. And freewill not existing because, whoops sorry, the Cauldron actually does know best and there’s no choice in this world sorry!

NO THANK YOU, MA’AM! I SAID NO THANK YOU.

[saatorus]

veiled reverence — r . sukuna

pairing — soulmate! heian era sukuna x reader

synopsis — you’re the last survivor of a village destroyed by sukuna, the king of curses. when your soulmate mark flares upon meeting him, you’re bound in a way you never expected. taken to his shrine, you’re forced to stay in his presence, where the weight of his past actions looms over both of you, and the line between survival and resentment blurs.

estimated wc — around 30k.. (forgive me)

full fic release date — end of june/early july

teaser wc — 647 words

taglist status — open

warnings — explicit sexual content, mentions of cannibalism, dead bodies, mentions of not eating, depression, some angst, sukuna ryomen (he needs his own warning), probably inaccurate portrayal of the heian era but i tried my best to research, will add more as i go along

In the Heian era, where fate wove itself into the fabric of existence, every soul was born with a mark—a silent promise etched into their skin. These marks, unique in shape and placement, remained dormant until the moment destiny called. When soulmates met, the mark would burn, igniting a bond deeper than mere mortal understanding. To find one’s soulmate was considered a divine blessing, a path to prosperity and harmony. To reject them was to defy the heavens themselves.

But fate was never kind.

And as Ryomen Sukuna stood amidst the ruins of a village he had torn apart, he never expected his own mark to sear with pain—nor to hear a scream that was not born of fear, but of something far worse. 

Recognition.

Clawed hands carelessly tossed the limp body aside, a dull thud swallowed by the crackling remains of the village. Blood still lingered on his tongue, warm and metallic, but it was not the taste that made Ryomen Sukuna freeze. It was the searing, agonizing burn on his ribs—the jagged, ink-black mark that had sat dormant for centuries now alight with a fire unlike anything he had ever known.

This could not be happening.

He was a curse. Yes, he bore a mark like all beings did, but soulmates were chosen by the heavens. The higher ones, in all their cruelty, had long abandoned him. Cursed beings were not meant to be loved. They were meant to wander, to ruin, to destroy. That was the law of the world. And yet—

Sukuna grunted, his four crimson eyes narrowing as the sensation pulled at him, an invisible thread winding tighter, dragging him forward. It was not a conscious choice—his body moved of its own accord, muscles tensing as something deep, something ancient, willed him to go toward.

The ground beneath his feet was littered with the remnants of what had once been a village, the stench of charred flesh thick in the air. A smoldering hut collapsed somewhere in the distance, its wooden beams snapping like brittle bones. Sukuna barely noticed. The burn along his ribs was growing worse, hotter than the flames he had set upon the village, hotter than hell itself.

Through the smoke and ruin, he saw it.

A figure, small against the backdrop of devastation, hunched over as though in pain. Her breathing was ragged, unsteady—alive, but barely.

Sukuna’s lip curled.

Impossible.

And yet, even as he sneered, even as his rational mind screamed at him to turn away, his feet carried him forward. 

It was as if the moment his eyes fell upon her, the searing pain along his ribs dulled—replaced not by relief, but by something far more unsettling. That strange, unseen force that had yanked him through the ruins, that had commanded his body to move without his consent, now seemed to settle, coiling around him like a vice. The angry burn of his soulmate mark, a fire that had threatened to consume him whole, now smoldered into a dull throb the closer he stood to her.

Ten feet. That was all that separated them.

Emotions stirred within him, a chaotic maelstrom that he could not name—because why should he feel anything at all? He was Ryomen Sukuna. He had scorched entire villages to the ground without a second thought, torn through flesh and bone with the same carelessness one might crush an insect beneath their heel. And yet, standing before this fragile, insignificant thing, something twisted inside of him.

Anger. That such a thing as soulmates dared to bind him, to claim him. That fate itself had the audacity to force this upon him.

Confusion. Because this should not be possible. Because curses were forsaken, meant to walk the earth unloved, untethered. Because he was Sukuna, and he had been told his existence was an affront to the heavens themselves.

Intrigue. Because she was not screaming anymore.

authors note — bro i actually wasn't gonna write up until like july/august because i'm in peak exam season rn (i'm literally posting this during my break from studying someone save me) but ANYWAYS!

i was innocently going through my docs to find these notes i took all the way back in like feburary and i come across this... half finished fanfiction of heian era sukuna i wrote, intending to post it on my old blog, and i see that i've written majority of it already? it was like winning the lottery... and so i was like ok why nawt post ts for all the lovely people who were begging me to write more of sukuna??? heh..

i'll try and portray him mean as possible in this but i need you guys to understand that i cant entirely portray him as his asshole canon self because of the soulmate au im writing him in and ugh you guys'll realise the more you read it but omg i need to stop blabbering rn and get back to work but YEAH haaaaahaaaaa ok bai.

love you all!

[dangermousie]

First Half of 2025 Year In Review - cdrama edition...

I normally do these at the end of the year, but I have watched so many cdramas this year, I am going to have to split this in some way. This is only going to cover cdramas that aired in 2025 so far; if I watched it but it was made in a different year, it’s not on the list. As always, very subjective.

DRAMAS WATCHED

(In order of liking from least to most as opposed to pure quality; I am including if I’ve seen enough to make up my mind; yes I realize that’s inaccurate, but that’s my list)

(46) Serendipity - if boils were a drama, this would be it.

(45) A Prime Minister’s Disguise - it's stupid, it's cheap, it's a waste of anyone's time.

(44) Everlasting Longing - more like evelasting boring with some truly terrible acting and nonsense writing (at least they did us a mercy and put two equally wooden actors opposite each other.)

(43) The Seized Destiny - at one point a man wears cat ears. That's it, that's the highlight.

(42) Love Beyond the Curse - dumb even for a vampire mini and that's a low standard indeed.

(41) Destiny and Saving - sounds like a bank branch, would probably be more fun if it was.

(40) I am nobody 2 - I loved the first season but this just didn't click for me.

(39) Filter - I love you, Tan Jianci but not even for you. At one point, FL is a llama.

(38) Destiny of Love: and snoring.

(37) Phoenix's Gambit: Love or Crown - just like its name, couldn't make up its mind what it wanted to be.

(36) Love and Sword - Gao Weiguang is hot. Unfortunately not hot enough to melt one's brain which is what you'd need to enjoy this dumb mess.

(35) Les Belles - More like La Bete. Because it's la bete of a drama.

(34) Eat Run Love - tried to go for Lighter and Princess, Walmart edition, failed at even that.

(33) Love Never Fails - until it does.

(32) Youthful Glory - cute and harmless. So is a bunny and that's at least nice to pet.

(31) Dominion and Devotion - a mini tried to be a proper palace drama which is I suppose praiseworthy but not what I watch minis for.

(30) Si Jin - A girlbossing story that made me decide I'd rather watch a drama with not a single woman than this type of female centric story and also that Jing Tian is a beautiful woman who doesn't click for me and Zhang Wanyi really needs to stop playing the same role over and over.

(29) The Best Thing - fluffy and plotless but oddly soothing.

(28) Blazing Elegance - this is like the trashiest 1980s romance novel imaginable but set in 1930s China. I had so much fun but did I respect myself in the morning? Hmmm.

(27) Guardians of the Dafeng - too goofy for my liking for most of its run but that ending!!!!!!

(26) Flourished Peony - solidly acted but alas the narrative did not grab me and ML really made no sense as a period character.

(25) Moonlight Mystique - main story pointless, the palette vomit inducing but oh the secondary OTP stole the show and my heart.

(24) Bound by Sin - softcore with submissive ML and domme FL. Wild for most of its run until it tries to acquire respectability late in its run.

(23) Such a Good Love - tried to be artsy ended up just boring.

(22) To Love or To Defy - FL is an assassin getting distracted by an honorable prince. The logic is utterly absent but the fun is fun.

(21) Once Upon a Dream - fakecest is the flavor of the day - why date out of the family when your adopted brother is right there, has great hair and dubious notions of consent? This one is very pretty.

(20) The Prisoner of Love - he tortures her, then she tortures him and on and on and on - the usual. Featuring a couple where FL rides off into wedded bliss with the man who murdered her parents.

(19) Stolen Love - someone watched Kunning and decided to write a Yan Lin AU, honest. I liked it but it did get repetitive and FL is kinda brain dead.

(18) Sadistic Love - despite the name, a surprisingly not psychotic love story with fakecest and a lot of gay vibes.

(17) The First Frost - a modern about broken up lovers reconnecting, this was a masterpiece for 3/4 of its run and then made a narrative decision so stupid it ruined the drama for me.

(16) Hidden Love - not the ZLS flufffest, this is full on fakecest delight. FL's two choices are ML who she thinks is her half brother (he turns out not to be) and her actual half brother. As it goes.

(15) A Love Never Lost - I think, if I were objective, this is the best drama this year. It is not my favorite for very subjective reasons but God, what a masterpiece about an epoch. Bleak ending, characters who ranged from complex and controversial to complex and unlikable (still in awe of Li Xian taking on THAT role - Liang Xiang was complex, larger than life, driven, smart and a monster who was a rapist and a betrayer) and the death of Yang Kaizhi (Wei Daxun) a rare moment that made me cry when I rarely get this moved by dramas.

(14) Kill My Sins - a thoroughly adult story of loss and vengeance, with Liu Shi Shi and Shawn Dou sparking with each other as equally ruthless and equally damaged souls who find kinship (this is a drama where they never even kiss or confess but when they call each other "soulmate" you FELT it.) So good!

(13) Always My General - like some of my favorite web novels made into a drama. FL is a woman pretending to be a man and becoming a legendary general, ML is a prince who loves her either way - so delicious. My fave mini of the year.

(12) The Glory - a Gothic and female-centric tale of vengeance and dysfunctional families, this is a story with characters shockingly manipulative and dark. It made Chen Duling a bigger star and well-deservedly so - her abused, violent and brittle protagonist is the person who the show rests on. It did drag a little in the middle but then came back swinging in the end.

(11) A Moment But Forever - in a year that gave me a lot of awesome xianxias, this one does not disappoint. A depressed and abused philosophy major meets a literal and cheerful engineering major - xianxia style. Liu Xueyi is gorgeous and Tang Yan a delight but what really hits is a surprisingly solid story about divinity, life and forgiveness.

(10) Perfect Match - Jane Austen but frothier, this tale of a widow moving with her four marriageable daughters to the capital where the fifth married daughter lives, this is a souffle with a love story for every taste and delightful bit of sisterly love on top. Pick your favorite romance! (Mine is fourth sister and her judge husband.)

(9) Love of the Divine Tree - it's like someone watched TTEOTM and went "this is how it should go instead." Our heroine is a master who finds feral, hot, abuser demon child and cat hero and decides to give him therapy via a petting zoo and chores.

(8) The Demon Hunter's Romance - just a solid lovely tale that includes some genuinely adult, common sense interactions and characters and a wildly creative take on demons and their stories.

(7) The Prisoner of Beauty - finally released out of the dungeon, this story of arranged marriage between members of feuding clans turned to love is a delight, held mainly by sane interactions and insane chemistry between Liu Yuning and Song Zuer.

(6) Love in Pavilion - do you like gorgeous pain? Come right in. Do you like doomed love in many varieties and incredible visuals and a totally gonzo set up? This is everything Red Moon Pact should have been but was not.

(5) The Blossoming Love - the best xianxia of them all in a very solid xianxia year, this story of a demoness and the perfect saint of the cultivating world goes hard on an incredible OTP and some glorious destroy the pantheon energy. Our Male Lead is not an atheist who does not believe in gods. No, he knows they are real and he WILL end them.

(4) Under the Moonlight - came out of nowhere to own my heart. This tale of a former courtesan assisting in cases in the yamen, a sheltered noble son who gets involved and the upright commissioner is everything - smart and moving and with so many points about class and gender (that is not preachy in the least.) It's realistic in a way most dramas are not and deals with portions of society dramas often don't, but it makes you both think and feel.

(3) Eternal Brotherhood 2: second year in a row a season of this drama misses top spot by the skin of its teeth. This grim, smart feudal-world-at-war and the three sworn brothers who deal with it drama comes back with more hard choices, brotherhood, love kept and lost and some insane cinematography and acting

(1 tie) Legend of Zang Hai - sometimes a huge hit starring a big star IS actually all that and a bag of chips, and this is that rare example. Ostensibly a story about vengeance, this is actually a smart, emotionally riveting character study about selfishness and selflessness, damage, kindness and evil. The script is tight, the direction impeccable and the performances out of this world. Xiao Zhan as the containedly insane focus and maelstrom of all the madness gives a performance I will long remember.

(1) The White Olive Tree - a modern is my n1 drama of the year? The world is coming to an end. The story of a journalist and bomb disposal expert who meet, fall in love in, and are destroyed by trauma in a war zone is a masterpiece. It's delicate, it's hopeful, it's heartbreaking. It also is a vanishingly rare portrayal of trauma that does not have pat solutions or easy outs. It's a romance and a tragedy in the classic Greek sense of the word, especially for the ML whose very idealism and goodness are what make him both perfect and unsuitable for helping and that ultimately take him down.

FAVORITE DRAMA

It's a tie:

The White Olive Tree - for the first time in ever, since I first started watching cdramas in 2007 - my favorite cdrama is a modern. Yeah, I know. Flawless from beginning to end, with literally nothing I'd change, this love story and character story is unflinching in its portrayal of love and trauma. Everyone gives a great performance but it's anchored by a genuinely jaw dropping performance from CZY as shattered idealist Li Zan.

Legend of Zang Hai - that rare beast - both smart and emotional, with gorgeous cinematography and impeccable acting, this really shows the cost and burden of revenge and makes you hope against hope for happiness and healing.

WORST DRAMA

Serendipity - this is what eating a plastic bag must feel like. Dumb plot, terrible look, horrible acting, hideous ML etc etc. Where do I start.

FAVORITE MALE CHARACTER

Li Zan (Chen Zheyuan), The White Olive Tree - one of the three male performances and characters of the year for me. Li Zan starts the story as a shining light and ends a broken wreck and it's an epic performance throughout - it shows how uncomfortable it is to love a saint but it also shows this saint as human in all his complexity and drive; it makes idealism human - it's intense and haunting and you can't look away whether you are swooning or crying.

Zang Hai (Xiao Zhan), Legend of Zang Hai - I so rarely find actors with such huge and intense fanbases worth the hype, but XZ really is worth it. This performance of traumatized, vengeance-driven but unable to get rid of his soft heart Zang Hai was incredible - so many scenes that just had me jaw-droppingly in awe.

Liang Xiang (Li Xian), A Love Never Lost - Li Xian owns the role of a magnetic larger than life monstrous mover and shaker of the end of Qing. The man is a rapist and a murderer; he's also a filial son, a supremely competent leader and a terrifying kind of an idealist. This is not a role any idol-adjacent actor normally takes but Li Xian is incredible in the role.

FAVORITE FEMALE CHARACTER

Luo Shu (Hu Bingqing), Under the Moonlight - she is so complex, so strong, so haunted. Very much a gender swapped "haunted, tough man with a cause falls for a sheltered kind woman" set up for her and her OTP but what I love even more is she's not defined by romance.

Xiao Qiao (Song Zuer), The Prisoner of Beauty - she made a soft spoken, largely internalized character irresistible. I loved her from beginning to end.

NEEDS TO BE MURDERED

99% of the people in A Moment But Forever - I am Team Apocalypse for that one. Truly awful horrors, whether the torturing selfish immortal sect, the useless deities, the evil war demons who created the worst society possible or the gross humans. Kill them all!

Beast Kingdom people in Love in Pavilion - we would not have the tragedy without them.

And, as last year, City Lord from Eternal Brotherhood 2.

BEST BAD GUY

When Deng Wei's character in Tree, Zhang Bin Bin's in TBL or Liu Xueyi's in Moment go evil, they automatically become 10x hotter and seeing they were already hot to start with...but my favorite is Lord Jiuhuo (Charles Lin) in Love in Pavilion - that man was willing to wreck the world for love and he was epic doing it. My favorite part of LiP.

“HAROLD, THEY ARE LESBIANS” AWARD

And Chen Duling is in this one for the second year in a row - Zhuang Hanyan (CDL) x Chai Jing (Jinna Fu) in The Glory are 100% a couple, with frankly as many couple scenes and set ups as the ostensibly canon het OTP.

“HOW DID CENSORS NAP THROUGH THIS” AWARD

Honestly, any mini would be on this list (have you SEEN the sex scenes in Blazing Elegance?) but if we are talking "proper" dramas, let's go with The Glory, which let all sorts of awful, murdery characters get a happy ending.

MALE LEAD MOST LIKELY TO BE BROUGHT HOME TO MOTHER

No, thank you! The few modern ones she’d not approve of (Li Zan is likely to leave you a young widow and Sang Yan from TFF would never decouple from his girl anyway) and the period ones are no go since few moms would be keen on wild-eyed, bloodied sons in law however hot and long haired they may be.

FAVORITE SHIP

The White Olive Tree - idealists who love each other more than life but that love is not enough to fix them.

Kill My Sins - they don't kiss, they don't confess, they barely touch. And yet the soulmate compatibility and the chemistry just pour off the screen. I was feral whenever they were within two feet of each other.

Legend of Zang Hai - not a ship centric show and sometimes these make the best ships. I would lose it when they even touched palms. They are both damaged and wary (and he's borderline nuts from trauma) and watching them dance around and get their hearts broken and healed was...

The Blossoming Love - taking on Gods in any life and form and so ride or die and sexy and AAAAAAAA

FAVORITE SECONDARY OTP

Many excellent choices this year (the cursed cultivators in The Blossoming Loves, all the secondary OTPs in Love in Pavilion, First and Fourth couples in Perfect Match) but the winner is the haunted, dysfunctional, intense, doomed secondary OTP of Moonlight Mystique. I finished that drama solely for them.

NOTP

Serendipity - I really don't want to waste more time on this toxic dump of a drama so all I am gonna say is they made fakecest, my fave trope, boring!

HOTTEST SCENE

Blazing Elegance - all their sex scenes are insane but also the aphrodisiac scenes in Love in Pavilion take the cake for sheer intensity and the baby making in ep 32 of The Prisoner of Beauty because phew boy!

FAVORITE SCENE

Li Zan's breakdown in the hospital and the aftermath when he tells FL the truth in The White Olive Tree. That scene? Shivers.

Zang Hai emerging out of the tomb in Legend of Zang Hai - the breakdown, the manipulation are epic. The epic Greek tragedy of the Marquis' death.

In Eternal Brotherhood 2, Di Lin arriving to rescue his brothers at Payu; or his kneeling to Xiujia's pregnant stomach, his hands gentle on it, promising to come back.

Liu Xueyi's madness in the hole in A Moment but Forever - LXY is an actor who's often too good for his dramas and this scene shows how good he can be as he's going mad and confronting his inner demons.

The First Frost ultimately fell apart for me, but the scene of teen Sang Yan watching Wen Yifan dance on the rooftop he equipped for her is what swooning over poetry feels like.

BIGGEST CRUSH

We are gonna go in the most opposite way possible: the law abiding, incredibly decent, rather rigid Fourth Husband, Perfect Match and Di Lin in Eternal Brotherhood 2 - the man is ideal husband, a terrifying beast in battle and just all around sex on legs.

BEST SCENE STEALER CHARACTER

Zhuang Zhixing (Zhou Qi), Legend of Zang Hai - the sole decent person in that family of monsters, he stole my heart and his arc OMG!

BEST COSTUMES AND WIGS

Costumes: Legend of Zang Hai - real embroidery, and costumes that look real.

Wigs: I am gonna be weird here and say Kill My Sins.

MOST EXTRA OUTFIT

Honestly, most have been fairly sane but Feud should fix it.

FAVORITE SECONDARY ML

General Yun in Eternal Brotherhood 2 - Si Yilin x Ka Dan were my n1 OTP in s1 and yet the man's honor and willingless to risk his life to protect Ka Dan without expecting anything has got me almost switching ships.

MOST BLATANT INNUENDO MOMENT

It hasn't aired yet but we all saw that poster for Feud, with Bai Lu fondling Zeng Shunxi's enormous...sword:

FAVORITE 2025 CDRAMA SONG

Chen Xueran's Moonlight Dance from The White Olive Tree. You have no idea how much I listened to it.

MVP OF THE YEAR

Song Zuer, who beat her tax allegations (already a miracle) and came back with two awesome dramas.

ACTING SURPRISE

So many great performances, but I am gonna go with Chen Zheyuan in The White Olive Tree. He's been solid in so many awful dramas but I never knew he could be such a revelation

NEEDS A SEQUEL

The Demon Hunter's Romance - not really but would be fun. And EB2 likely since I cannot see how they will wrap the novel's story in the remaining number of eps.

NEEDS SCISSORS TAKEN TO IT

Serendipity - in addition to all its other sins, this simply cannot support 40 eps.

TOO MANY SCISSORS TAKEN TO IT

Surprisingly none, I think dramas have adjusted to the 40 ep limit.

TROPE THAT NEEDS TO DIE

Same as last year - the emperor cannot be irredeemable. WTF, China, you are a communist country! Though they are nibbling at the edges this year. Also fake feminism - I am all for girl power but not when it’s ridiculously anachronistic for the period with no explanation at all. And finally NO MORE TRADE DRAMAS PLS PLS PLS

FAVORITE TROPE WE’VE SEEN A LOT OF

Men (and women) knowingly fighting for a doomed cause because otherwise they’d cease to be who they are. Or if we are being shallow all the beautiful men in chains.

BIGGEST DISAPPOINTMENT

The First Frost: it was so exquisite for about 2/3 and then the Hong Kong arc happened (and was not in the book; the adaptation was faithful so far so nothing heralded it) and ruined the whole drama. It negated the development, the themes, the characters - it made me dislike both leads and the way the narrative never addressed it made the whole story utterly fall apart.

BIGGEST GOOD SURPRISE

The White Olive Tree, Under the Moonlight, A Moment but Forever, The Demon Hunter's Romance - this has been a year of surprises, so many of my top dramas weren't on my radar at all.

2025 DRAMAS I HAVEN’T SEEN THAT I MOST WANT TO WATCH

I have honestly watched everything I wanted so far.

BEST NON-2025 DRAMA I’VE WATCHED IN 2025

Do you think I have the time? Ahahahaha

MOST ANTICIPATED

Love in the Clouds, Legend of the Female General, Moonlit Reunion, A Dream within a Dream, Hidden Shadow, Shadow Love, You Sheng You Ya, The Princess' Gambit, Feud, Fated Hearts, Love and Crown

[iniquitousyearning]

MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Twenty Eight--Info: You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

Tags: 18+, SMUT, Rough Sex, Slapping (for sexual titillation), Dirty Talk, Multiple Orgasm, Overstimulation, GUNPLAY, Outdoor Sex, Gagging, Choking, Praise Kink, Degradation Kink, ANGST ANGST ANGSTTTTTTT!!!!! GET THE TISSUES OUT!

FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.

In the aftermath of your heartfelt confession, the ambiance shifted beneath the curtain of rain. Mattheo's initial warmth, which had enveloped the moment, began to withdraw, slowly being replaced by his usual guarded demeanor.

Tension, thick and tangible, emanated from him, as if he yearned to retract, to voice a refusal. The gaze that had once been soft, akin to melted chocolate, now bore a stark reluctance. It was as though the vulnerability you had glimpsed moments earlier had transformed into a protective shield, guarding him against the intensity of the unexpected revelation.

Undeterred, you pressed forward, defying the cooling atmosphere with a resolute step. Your hands, a gentle insistence against the encroaching frost, found their place on his face. Amidst the rhythmic percussion of springtime raindrops, your eyes held an unbroken contact, mirroring the pounding cadence of your heart. A silent gaze held him in place, allowing the weight of your words to permeate the space before you spoke again.

"Don't say anything," you whispered, the words borne on the breath of the rain-soaked air, a plea to let the unspoken emotions settle in the delicate stillness between you two. "You've said so much, Mattheo...you've shared so much with me...I don't need you to say another word...just...just listen,"

Mattheo blinked, the subtle motion accompanied by the quiet working of his throat as he swallowed. His hands, hanging at his sides, remained still as yours maintained their firm grasp on his face. An almost imperceptible nod from him prompted you to inhale sharply, capturing the breath in your lungs.

"Perhaps I lied to you..." you began, your voice soft, tender. "Perhaps I wasn't being truthful when I said I never believed in destiny...because in a way, I do...but I also believe that we are only destined to do the things we'd choose to do anyway..."

A pause ensued as you studied his countenance, your gaze tracing the scars on his skin and taking note of his perfect imperfections that shaped the essence of who he is.

"And I'd choose you, Mattheo...in a hundred fucking lifetimes, in a hundred different realities, I would choose you...every fucking time..." you declared, your grip on him intensifying. Your hands trembled, mirroring the tremor in your voice. "I don't care about your history, I don't care about any of the bad things you've done...everything you've been through has made you who you are...and I am fucking in love with who you are...every single part of you...your smart mouth, your cheeky smirk, every line and every scar..."

Drawing him nearer, you gently guided him until his forehead found solace against yours. His hands discovered the curve of your waist, pulling you into an embrace that emanated urgency, a profound need to absorb every syllable you uttered, each word a testament to the depth of emotions shared between you.

"Your skin, absent of its scars, would be like a sky without stars," you murmured, your shared breaths blending in the intimate proximity. "I didn't fall in love with you; I fucking walked into love with you--with my eyes wide open, deliberately choosing every step along the way. Everything you've revealed changes nothing, Matty...I love you, utterly and unequivocally."

A profound silence enveloped the space, and time seemed to elongate into a suspended realm, each passing moment an eternity. His eyes, a tumultuous storm of unexpressed feelings, gently fluttered closed, his lips parting as his breaths, once steady, now took on a rhythm almost akin to panting--a visceral manifestation of the emotions swirling within.

His hands, deliberate in their motion, traversed the landscape of your back, ascending with a sense of purpose. As they reached your head, his fingers, fueled by a desperate urgency, found purchase, gripping your face with a fervor that spoke volumes. In this charged atmosphere, his eyes, concealed behind closed lids, hinted at the vulnerability beneath the stoic exterior. The suspended moment begged for release, aching for the words that lingered on the precipice.

"Say it again..." his murmured request, laden with longing, reverberated through the charged air. "I just-"

"I love you," you said, the words firmer this time, your hands threading behind his head, fingers entwining in his soaked hair. "I love you..."

His jaw tensed, and he released a shaky breath--his eyelids fluttering, the grip on your skull tightening. "Again."

"I love you," you repeated, your voice gaining strength, fingers digging into his scalp as though you could force the words through. "I fucking love you, Mattheo Riddle."

Breaths intermingled, and your grips on each other surpassed the hold of any chains or restraints. In the pulsating intensity, your minds spun with a whirlwind of thoughts. Was there a sweeter arrangement than this? He gets to ask you, over and over to repeat it--while you get to tell him, over and over, that you mean it.

Your nails dug into his scalp, foreheads pressing together with an almost painful force. "I thought it would be impossible to ever find someone...to ever be with someone, when beneath my surface of composure, I'm scattered in a million different pieces--like a puzzle with missing parts..." you paused, lips softly grazing his. "But then you showed me that every piece doesn't have to be in place to create something beautiful...something real...that love can exist in the most imperfect, lost, broken people."

A guttural noise escaped him, resonating low in his throat as his fingers dug into your skin, cradling your head.

You inhaled a shallow breath before you continued, "and I promise you, my love will be just as strong, just as beautiful, whether you, too, are in a thousand pieces, or just one.”

Mattheo, completely struck silent, locked eyes with your parted lips. In perfect synchrony, your gaze met his, and in that silent exchange, there was a mere gasp of air before his mouth was on yours. The passion between your bodies ignited into an unbridled inferno, refusing any attempt at restraint. His kiss was a slippery bruise, melding madness at your skin, tongue driving into you while he inhaled through his nose. You met him, movement for movement, groaning against him, fingers folding further into his hair, thumbs tracing the tops of his ears, and he groaned against your lips before capturing them again,

The kiss was unlike any before--a fervent blaze spiraling out of control, unwilling to be subdued for even a moment longer. His lips met yours with an intensity that felt almost primal; a hungry, desperate fusion of raw emotion and longing. His hands cradled your head with a force that hinted at an uncontainable desire, making you wonder if he sought to meld your very essence. The cool droplets of rain cascaded around you, soaking your skin to the bone, but you couldn't find it in you to care.

"I need you, princess..." he whispered, parting from the kiss, his hands gliding down your back as his lips found the curve of your neck. "But you already knew that, didn't you? Pretty girl..."

Your eyelids fluttered in response, fingers tightly grasping his hair, a desperate grip that mirrored the intensity of his kisses trailing down your neck. Your lip found refuge between your teeth as his mouth explored the path of rain cascading along your skin.

"My tainted little angel," he murmured, his words a provocative caress against your ear. "Crushingly beautiful...tender like a bruise..."

His hands, firm and insistent, sought the curves of your hips, fingers grasping at the wet fabric of your dress, tugging it upwards along your thighs. "You were the first sin actually worth hurting for...had me wrapped around your little finger before you even fucking touched me..."

You throbbed, a full-body pulse, humming into him with a shudder, Mattheo's lips moved back to yours, nipping at your lower lip before sliding to your chin, following the streams on your skin as he pressed clumsy, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, falling to suck and nibble at your heartbeat. Whimpering, you nuzzled your head into his, and he responded with a sharp bite to your neck, barely-restrained, earning a squeal from your throat.

"I told myself I was fine...that I was better off alone...never needed anyone, never wanted anyone...but then you came around, and after all this fucking time, after everything I put you through...it's still you, it's you who fucking believes in me..." he murmured against your skin. “You mean so fucking much to me…and when I finally admitted to that myself, when I finally let myself feel…you made me better, and I don't mean from being my tutor...you just made me want to be better...fuck, Raven...I wanted you to look at me the way you looked at the stars...I wanted to get better grades for you…I quit drinking and drugs because I wanted to be a better man for you..."

As he lifted your dress beyond your hips, your hands eagerly joined the movement, gathering the fabric's hem and peeling it over your head. His eyes traversed over every inch of newly exposed flesh, absorbing the sight with an intensity that spoke volumes. You observed as he swiftly shed his suit jacket, stripping the soaked fabric from his frame and laying it on the ground. His hands deftly moved to undo his belt, discarding his gun in the process. Returning a firm grip on your hips, he crashed his mouth back to yours, a relentless hunger igniting the kiss.

Moaning, you writhed into his chest, and he gripped your face, nails scraping your scalp while he pulled you closer, groaning into you, leaning--you followed him, chasing his kiss until you were both on the ground; him on his back, your legs straddling him, palms planted on his chest.

"I’ve had some, then most of you...all, and then none of you..." a soft, anxious breath escaped his throat, and he swirled his tongue over yours before biting your lip and pushing you up, hands settling on your thighs, rocking you back and forth over his thick erection, covered only by the thin fabric of his boxers. "I-I can't lose you again...it's you...it's fucking always been you..."

"Oh, Gods..." your voice cracked, emotion bubbling in your chest, threatening to spill out as you rolled your hips against him. He watched you, panting in rhythm with you, and you admired him--how fucking beautiful he was--his eyes stark with need, his mouth parted in open anticipation, his muscles tensing as he gripped and squeezed you, jerking his hips into your heat. "You won't...you fucking can't..."

Rain bathed you both, rivers roaming over your curves, white cloth of your bra a dewy illusion over your breasts. His thumbs skimmed your nipples with prickles of pleasure, and you moaned, head falling back on your shoulders. As if the sound awakened something inside him, he gripped your hips, flipping the two of you around until you were on your back beneath him, lips instantly moving to your neck, sucking at your throat.

You slid your hands under his shirt, savoring the firm contours of his body. He tensed, a low groan escaping into the intimate space between you, while his hips pressed against you with a force that seemed intent on melding you with the forest floor. Your fingertips traced the hard muscles, memorizing the damp, heated feel of his skin. In his voracious pursuit, he exhibited no restraint, extracting painful hickeys from the pulse at your neck.

The heat of desire surged between your thighs, and he moved lower, marking you with unrestrained passion. Tissue yielded to the pressure of his teeth, welts blooming under the fervent touch of his lips. Anxiety flickered through your mind as visible evidence of his ardor emerged, but the soft groan escaping his chest erased any concerns. Your back arched, willingly offering more of your untamed flesh to his insistent exploration. Grateful, he bit at the swell of your tits, crimson crescents blooming, and his hands moved to your underwear as he laved at your nipple through your bra, scraping it with his teeth through the fabric.

Mattheo fumbled at your folds, two thick fingers peeling you open, assessing your slickness, teasing your entrance. "Still so fucking wet for me..." he murmured, clucking his tongue. "And in the middle of the fucking forest...you'd take my cock anywhere I wanted, hm?"

You bit your lip, trying to grind against his hand. "What can I say...watching you use that gun did something to me..."

"Naughty, naughty girl..." he leaned to your ear, thumb skating your clit--you gasped. "Weren't you ever told to stay away from the asshole, weapon wielding bad boys?"

"Perhaps," you hissed through a moan as Mattheo pushed two fingers inside you--your walls tightening around him, hips twitching, head lolling against his soaked jacket. "Though I've never been good at following orders."

Mattheo huffed. "I'd say."

His mouth consumed you with a fervor, tracing a path of rich violet marks from your chin down to your clavicle, his spit mingling with the rain. Scissoring you open, he rolled your stiff clit, rocking his wrist, curling and working your walls, his other hand palming at his erection in an attempt to pacify himself. You bucked your hips, a shivering moan escaping, and he cursed, slamming in to the knuckle.

"If I fuck you now," he muttered at your jawline, "you'll have to take all of me. Everything I give you." He bit your neck, hard, forcing a cry from your lips. "I won't be able to control myself."

Heat scorched you, and you pulsed around him in anticipation, his fingers crooking in your wet core. Thunder grumbled in the distance. "Thought I'd long proved my capability."

Mattheo purred, and bit you again, pain shooting through you. "Earlier doesn't count, we were rushing...I need to wreck this tight little cunt...I'll fuck you harder and deeper than any of those assholes could ever fucking dream of..."

You shuddered, meeting his eyes. "Do your worst."

Snarling, he leaned back onto his knees, tore his fingers from your core and stuffed them in your mouth; you whinged in surprise, working to suckle them clean. Mattheo's free hand unleashed his dick, twitching eagerly despite its thick, heavy length. He jammed his hand to the back of your throat, and you gagged before he depressed your tongue, prying open your jaw.

"You know how this works." His gaze locked onto you, and the sky seemed to ignite with lightning around him. "Beg for it."

When he released you, you gasped into the rain. "Please, fuck me."

In the blink of an eye, his hand struck you, unleashing a spray of saliva from your parted lips. "That was pathetic," he snickered. "I fucking said beg."

Your face burned--humiliation, shock, and most importantly: desire. If this is what he meant, you wanted more. "Why don't you fucking make me?"

"There's that dirty mouth..." Mattheo smirked, shifting as he reached for his gun, gripping it with his free hand while the other stroked his cock. Before you could process it, he brought the barrel toward your temple, pressing the cold, wet metal against your skull. "Last fucking chance, princess...if you don't beg for my cock I'll fuck you so hard you'll be begging for mercy instead."

A whirlwind of shame and yearning left your head spinning, the likely instigators of your brief lapse into temporary insanity. "I'm not scared of you, Riddle..."

“Oh, princess.” His smirk grew. "You should be."

Adjusting the gun, he compelled the barrel past your lips, the icy metal coating your tongue. His other hand delved into your hair, gripping your soaked strands tightly as he forcefully drove the gun deeper into your throat. Then, without warning, he broke you open, splitting your core with a deep, harsh thrust, head slamming your cervix. You cried out against the weapon, body recoiling in pain, hands moving to his hips, and he shook you in reprimand.

"Oh, no--don't fucking bother." He drove his palm into your head, his nails scratching your scalp. "No running. Take it."

Mattheo pulled out fully before ramming back into you, spearing you with his cock, your body quaking with the force of each of his violent thrusts. His breath was already ragged, furious groans pushed from his chest as he fucked deep into you. Your lungs were empty, failing to find oxygen in his onslaught, your walls squeezing his length in delight, drool spilling down your chin and mingling with the flow of rain.

"Fuck--such an insatiable little cunt..." he growled, his eyes drilling into yours, taunting you through his gaze. "It missed this cock already, didn't it?"

Another deep thrust, meeting your cervix, and you winced, groaning against the gun as you tried to nod.

"That's right...shit..." he pulled the gun from your mouth, strings of drool hanging like garland from the barrel, quickly being washed away with the rain. "My girl...my fucking beautiful, filthy girl..."

He tossed it onto the ground next to your head, drawing his hand down toward your belly, slick fingers rubbing merciless circles on the bundle of nerves in rhythm with his pistoning hips--you wailed, drooling with pleasure, assaulted with a sudden, immediate need to orgasm.

"Fucking hell, you're so tight when you're about to cum..." he groaned, punishing your pussy with hard, rapid thrusts. "Prove you can take it. Cum on this cock."

Between the attention on your clit and the size of his dick, you snapped, convulsing and trembling while your blood flooded with flames, blazing heat through your thighs and to your toes. Above you, Mattheo hissed, fucking you through it, valiantly holding off his own orgasm as yours fizzed at your flesh. When your core's pulsing slowed, he shifted, propping your calves up his shoulders before he leaned forward and clamped his palm down on your neck.

"Don't squirm, baby..." his low voice commanded, and as you whimpered, squirming beneath him, his grin deepened. His eyes, now wild and intoxicated with desire, held a promise. "I gave you fair warning."

His free hand pinched your cheeks, slowly sliding out before slamming back in and pounding your cunt, growling breath leaking from his lungs, his hold on your throat tightening. The pressure in your head only doubled the frenzy of being fucked--you wheezed, your pulse thumping in your temples, and this spurred him on, drilling you with a depraved stare as he plowed into your tight pussy again and again and again.

The rain was steam on your skin, thunder a distant noise behind the sound of slapping skin and your strangled, whimpering moans. Your walls clenched and fluttered around his throbbing dick, sore clit twitching once more with a growing demand to be sated--Mattheo grunted, tugging you closer, eyes drilling into yours.

"Open that filthy mouth."

Wincing, you complied, parting your lips as he commanded. Without hesitation, he leaned down and spat into it.

"Now swallow it. Show me."

With determination etched on your face, you managed to comply against the pressure of his massive hand. Popping your jaw apart with a grimace, you showcased your resilience, earning a smirk from him. In response, he rewarded you with a series of both painful and blissful strokes of his hips, pushing your body to its absolute limit. Your breath had vanished ages ago, your heart now a wild entity, coursing through your veins.

"Poor baby," he sneered, feign sincerity in his tone. "I think you need to cum again."

He snaked his free hand between your legs, rolling your aching clit, and you groaned--or tried to, anyway--the speed of your pulse resonating through the grip on your neck. He felt it, too, head bowing in pleasured shock as you thrummed around him, your oncoming climax massaging his thick cock with every new thrust.

"Fuck." Resolute, he rubbed you faster, watching you--in his gaze, you saw nothing but an endless, dark void of lust. "Who do you fucking belong to?"

The words barely made it out. "Y-you, Mattheo..."

His choke tightened, and your vision blurred. "Who owns this tight little pussy?"

"You--you do, Mattheo..." you gasped.

"That's right," he sneered, and swirled your nub so quickly you squealed. "Cum for me, princess..."

The force of your orgasm surged through you, blurring your vision, and you screamed, choked by his hand as every muscle below your waist convulsed in a rapturous ecstasy. Your pussy milked and squeezed his cock, but he resisted his own climax once more, sinking into you until you descended. He drank in the sight of you--eyes rolled, raindrops scattered like diamonds on your skin, your throat and chest smothered with the evidence of his possession.

"Good fucking girl...take me...take all of me," he muttered, voice low and deep in the night air. "Every single fucking inch."

Mattheo shifted again, one arm coiling under you to fist your hair, the other cranking your leg back until your knee hit your chest. Groaning with pleasure, he hammered into you, stretching you wide, filling you to the base. Soaked strands of his hair slid into his eyes, and he tossed them back, wetting his lips and fucking you deep, trapping you in his feral gaze.

"You love me." He tilted your head back with a deliberate motion. "You fucking love me."

You nodded, not a shred of hesitation. "Yes-fuck! I do!"

He swallowed, inching closer, his forehead tenderly meeting yours. "After all of it," he whispered, the words almost lost in the shared breath, "after everything..."

Your chin quivered, and the revelation about his parents cut into your heart, a painful echo of his turbulent past. It hurt, yes, but it also felt like the a groundbreaking revelation, the ending to the story which finally explained why he was the way he was. There was an undeniable understanding that surged between your hearts, a silent recognition that both of you needed love in ways only the other could provide.

Despite the turmoil, you couldn't blame him for something so deeply rooted. The man craved love as desperately as you did, neither of you ever willing to admit it. In the synergy of your souls, there existed an undeniable connection, a perfect harmony that transcended spoken words. Even in the hushed language of silence, your hearts resonated, acknowledging that there would never be two souls more perfectly suited for each other than yours.

"After everything." You wrapped your arms around him, safe when lightning crashed, rocking your hips in his pace. "No matter what."

"Fuck." He wound your hair in his fist, and wrenched your head back, tearing at your throat with his teeth, harsh thrusts pulverizing your cunt. "...I'm--fuck--I'm going to make you break again." His hand left your leg, long fingers back to stroking your tender clit. "And then I'm going to fill you up with my cum."

Senses barraged, you shrieked, overwhelmed and oversensitive. He wasn't fucking joking. You wanted mercy. "Fuck! Mattheo! Please-please-"

"No. Take it," he snarled into your ear. "Take it."

He assailed your nub, and you quailed, curling around him like a snake, shaking from the overwhelming intensity of his power, lids shut while he nipped your neck, demolished your pussy, panted hard into your ear.

"You're mine." He growled, his voice shredded raw with lust. "Mine."

"I'm yours!" You shrieked, nails digging crescents into his back. "Yours."

"Fuck-" he hissed, slamming harder, deeper. "Mine! All fucking mine..."

"Yours! Fuck!" It was all too much, too great, brain crashing into a wanton mess. "All fucking yours!"

Your body convulsed, teeth sinking into your lip, propelled through a realm of heightened sensitivity into an ecstasy that seared your skin. Gasps and incoherent pleas spilled from your lips, a desperate supplication for release, for him to unleash the crescendo that would send you soaring and screaming and cumming.

"That's it," Mattheo growled, pumping into you, folding you into his frame. "You're taking me so fucking well baby, just one more...cum for me, angel."

Your senses fractured, caught between euphoria and disbelief, and your body spasmed, climax radiating through your every fiber, a luminous burst that shattered any remnants of sanity, setting Mattheo ablaze in its wake. He groaned, grunted, burying himself to the hilt, warm cock pulsing as he poured hot cum deep into your cunt. For a moment, he didn't move, silently working to catch his breath before he pulled back, shifting onto his knees.

You fixated on him, your head weighed down, struggling to fathom the endearment he had bestowed upon you--silently endeavouring to etch every detail of this encounter into the recesses of your memory. A contented sigh escaped you, accompanied by a smile that radiated the joy swelling within your chest.

However, as you gazed at him, basking in the warmth of affection twinkling in his eyes, you noticed a flicker of something else--an abrupt shift. His thumb grazed your chin absentmindedly before he moved, working to tuck himself away. You mirrored his actions, attempting to salvage what was left of your clothing, now thoroughly drenched by the relentless rain.

Walking through the forest on your way back to the castle, the shadows of the trees played in the puddle-soaked ground, creating a surreal dance around you. Mattheo extended his hand, a silent invitation you willingly accepted. The brief connection sent a comforting warmth through you, grounding you amidst the uncertainty.

As you navigated the path, thoughts swirled like the mist around you. The night's events echoed in your mind, and a cloud of questions veiled the clarity you sought. Contemplating a potential job at the castle, you wondered about its impact on your newfound bond with Mattheo. Did you still harbour the same enthusiasm for the job amid these compelling complexities? The walk became a journey through both the tangible forest and the intricate maze of your thoughts, navigating the uncertainty of what lay ahead.

Approaching the castle, the distant melody of music embraced the night air, whispering promises of celebration within. Capturing the tune, Mattheo halted abruptly, pivoting to face you as the two of you lingered just outside the castle walls, hidden by the shadows of the night.

Your brows furrowed inquisitively as you locked eyes with him, seeking to understand the meaning behind this sudden pause. "What are you-"

"Shh." He cooed, eyes darting around.

After a brief survey of the surroundings, he fixed his eyes back on you with a newfound emotion swirling within them. Without another word, Mattheo enveloped you in a tender embrace, guiding your arms to rest on his neck as his firm hands settled on your hips. Bathed in the gentle glow of castle lights, he initiated a graceful sway to the rhythm of a slow, melodic tune that harmonized seamlessly with the rain-soaked ambiance.

In the suspended moment, your gaze locked with his, the world around you blurred as the rain continued its gentle descent, creating an intimate cocoon amidst the springtime storm. It felt perfect, a clandestine world of your own, away from the prying eyes of others.

"All those people think love's for show..." Mattheo blinked, drawing his face closer. "But I'd fucking die for you in secret."

Your breath hitched, water welling in your eyes. You quickly blinked it away, searching his face, mapping it, along with everything else from this night into memory.

"How'd I get so lucky..." you tightened your hold on him, the raindrops adding a gentle percussion to the soundtrack of the moment. "A sky full of stars, and yet you're staring at me..."

"There's no need," he murmured, directing your head to lay against his chest. "Avere lei è come avere le stelle."

Your heart leapt. "How did you-"

"Notts been teaching me," he said, and you could practically hear the smirk on his lips, the pride in his tone. "You know what I said, don't you?"

You blushed, unable to stifle your grin. "I do."

He hummed. "Tell me."

"No," you whispered, fingers digging into his neck as you shifted your head to look up at him. "I'd like to hear you say it."

His smirk grew, and he peered down at you. "To have her, is to have the stars."

“Mm,” you glimpsed his mouth, brushing your lips against his as you murmured, "E averlo, è come avere la luna." (And to have him, is to have the moon.)

His smirk blossomed into a radiant smile as he gripped your face, drawing you into a profound, messy, deep kiss. Every fiber of your being quivered under the intense surge of emotions you felt for this man--love enveloping you entirely, and whether or not he uttered the words, you could sense it--right now, ten minutes ago, and every moment in between.

All you wanted, more than anything, was that he’d hold you tight, and whisper that you’d find a way to be together. But then, his hands fell from your face, wrapping around your shoulders and pulling you back into him. With his lips pressed to your forehead, he whispered,

“I’ve never loved anything, Raven…anyone…I didn’t even know I had a heart until you made it beat.” He murmured, tightening his grip. “Now this heart belongs to you. And I’ll fucking kill every last person that tries to keep you from me…”

You shuddered, breathing him in. “We’ll make it work. We’ll figure it out.”

He hummed, nodding softly, the two of you swaying to the gentle melody, ignoring the cold rain pouring down against your bodies. You weren’t sure how long you’d stood there, minutes, maybe even hours--but as the song came to an end, switching to another, more upbeat one, you smiled, meeting his dark, gleaming eyes.

“I love you, Mattheo.”

He pressed his lips to yours. “I love you, Raven.”

[dunebrat]

THE PEOPLES PRINCESS

Reader x feyd rautha smut

Summary: you get married off by your father to secure alliances. Despite you knowing your new husbands reputation, you finds yourself drawn to him.

➽─────────────────────❥

As you stepped onto the arid planet of Arrakis, the sun beat down relentlessly, casting harsh shadows across the shifting dunes. You, a princess, were escorted by your father, the ruler of your home planet, to marry the infamous Feyd Rautha. Your first encounter with Feyd was chilling. He stood tall and imposing, his eyes cold as they met yours. You couldn't help but feel a shiver run down your spine at the intensity of his gaze.

Throughout the preparations for the wedding, Feyd remained distant, barely acknowledging your presence. Amidst the bustling preparations, your father sought you out, his regal bearing softened by a look of paternal concern. He approached you with a tenderness that belied his stoic exterior, his eyes filled with a mixture of pride and sadness.

"My dear," he began, his voice gentle yet tinged with gravity, "today, you embark on a new journey, one that will shape the course of your destiny."

You met his gaze, a swirl of emotions churning within you. "Father," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, "I know not what the future holds, but I will face it with courage and grace."

A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he reached out to grasp your hand. "You are a beacon of strength and resilience, my child," he said, his voice filled with pride. "No matter what lies ahead, remember that you are never alone."

Tears welled in your eyes as you embraced him.

Your wedding gown, made from the finest silks and embellished with gorgeous lace and brilliant gems, was a vision of grandeur and elegance. Its flowing procession, glistening in the intense desert sun, followed you like a moonlit river. As you stood in the grand hall, waiting for the wedding ceremony to begin you couldn't shake the feeling of dread that gnawed at the edges of your consciousness, knowing that once the ceremony commenced, there would be no turning back.

But amidst the fear, there was a glimmer of hope. Perhaps, against all odds, this union with Feyd would bring you the happiness and fulfillment you had always longed for. But you know the man that will soon be your husband is no kind man. But as you stood before him at the altar, his eyes locked onto yours with a fierce determination. When he leaned in to kiss you, you felt a rush of lust.

On your wedding night, as the grandeur of the ceremony faded into the intimacy of the chambers, you found yourself alone with Feyd. The flickering candlelight casting shadows across the room, adding to your senses heightened.

Feyd, with his usual air of confidence, approached you. His eyes, sharp and penetrating, seemed to pierce through the facade you tried so desperately to maintain. He noticed the tremble in your hands, the uneasiness that lingered in your of your gaze.

"You're scared," he observed, his voice a low, rumbling growl that sent a shiver down your spine.

You nodded, unable to deny the truth of his words. "I am," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. Feyd closed the distance between you, his presence startling in its intensity, his lips twisted into a knowing smile. He said, "Fear can be a powerful motivator," with an a hint of humor in his voice. "But it can also be mastered."

With a swift yet gentle motion, he reached out to cup your face, his touch surprisingly tender against your skin. His eyes bore into yours with an unwavering gaze, as if daring you to challenge him, to defy the inevitable.

Feyd's eyes raked over your body, his gaze lingering on the curve of your hips and the swell of your breasts.

His voice was low and husky, his words a command.

"Strip." The word hung in the air like an order, leaving no room for negotiation or hesitation. You hesitated briefly before complying with Feyd's demand. You unbuttoned your dress, letting it fall to the floor in a pool of fabric. Underneath you wore nothing but lace underwear and stockings that accentuated every curve on your body.

Feyd's eyes roamed over your body, his gaze intense and unwavering. "I want you to know that I am not a man who will be gentle with you," he said in an even tone as if it were simply stating the obvious.

"I will take what I want, and you are to do as I say." The words hung in the air like a threat.

His gaze was intense, his voice commanding. You couldn't help but feel a sense of unease at the way he spoke to you. The words were harsh and demanding, leaving no room for negotiation or compromise.

You stood there, your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to process what he had just said. The weight of his words hung heavy on the air between us and for a moment | felt trapped by them.

"I understand," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

"I will do as you say." The words were barely out of your mouth before Feyd's hand was on the back of your neck, his grip firm and unyielding.

He pulled you closer to him, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was both demanding and possessive. His tongue invaded your mouth with an almost brutal forcefulness as he claimed it for himself.

His other hand found its way to your breast, his fingers pinching and twisting the nipple until you gasped in pain.

The pain was sharp and intense, but it also sent a strange rush of pleasure through you. You found yourself responding to his touch in ways that surprised even you.

His hands roamed over your body, exploring every curve and crevice as if he were mapping out a territory. He pulled you closer to him until his hardness was pressed against the soft folds of your sex.

You could feel the heat radiating from him, his desire for you palpable. His hands moved down to your hips and he lifted you up so that only the tip of his cock was inside you.

He held you there, teasingly close to the edge of pleasure. "Do you want this?" he asked in a low voice that sent shivers down your spine.

"Do you want me to take what I need from you?" The words were a command, not a question. The words were barely out of your mouth before Feyd's grip on you tightened and he thrust into you with a force that left you gasping for air. He fucks you hard and fast, his hips slamming into you with a force that left your body trembling. The pain was intense but it only seemed to fuel the fire of desire burning within him as he continued to fuck you relentlessly.

You could feel the wetness between your legs, a testament to how turned on you were by his rough treatment.

His hands roamed over your body, leaving bruises and marks that would be a reminder of this night for days to come.

Days passed after the wedding night, and you found yourself adjusting to life as the wife of Feyd Rautha. One evening, as you sat alone in the grand hall of the palace, Feyd approached you with a quietly. His usual stoic demeanor softened slightly as he took a seat beside you, his presence commanding yet strangely comforting.

“May I join you?" he asked, his voice low and gravelly, betraying a hint of vulnerability beneath the surface.

You nodded, surprised by his sudden display of openness. "Of course," you replied, unable to hide the shyness in your voice.

For a moment, silence hung heavy between you, the only sound the soft rustle of fabric and the distant hum of activity within the palace walls. And then, with a hesitant sigh, Feyd spoke, his words measured yet tinged with emotion. "I know I am not what you expected," he began, his gaze fixed on some distant point beyond the horizon. "I am not known for my warmth or compassion, but know that I will do everything in my power to protect you, to keep you safe from harm."

"I believe you husband," you replied softly, reaching out to place a reassuring hand on his arm.

[safely-in-vhagars-belly]

Chains of Bones: Chapter 6: Mirrors of Truths. dark! god!aemond x readerrr

Tags: DARK AEMOND, GREEK MYTHOLOGY INSPIRED AU

🔷Summary: You are a servant working for the goddess Rhaenyra and the God Daemon. You are tasked with protecting the flowers and one day, you find yourself captured by rhaenyra's greatest enemy: Aemond.

🔷Author's note: Dark af.

WARNINGS: Misogny, (no kidding) emotional manpulation, dubcon, body betrayl, vaginal sex (f recv) oral sex (f recev) rough sex, mentions of loss of virginty, emotional gaslighting and gore, blood, and a lot of...BONES.

This is a dead dove

Do not eat it.

(a+ warning)

wordcount:7041 (WE'RE SO BACK!!!)

Rhaenyra’s pov.

Her heels tick against the stone tiles that have decorated the castle for an eternity. Her dress follows her around with every turn she takes, the scroll clutched in her right hand, with the burning tower sigil torn half open. The doors are pushed open, and her husband, Prince Daemon, the Dragon King enters. She longs to fall into his arms, to let him take her worries away. But she cannot. She readjusts her crown, the crown of light that has become a dim, soft shimmer. 

Daemon sees that his wife is distressed. The lights surrounding her aren’t as bright. Her eyes are puffy from the crying, as she presses a scroll of written parchment into his hands. Her voice tries to sound indifferent and careless, but it comes out as a squeaky, broken and tired sound.  “Alicent has defied me.” He carefully reads the letter, skipping most of the sentences as the word of Alicent does not interest him at all. When he notices the word Aemond, he finally stops skipping, and begins to read. 

‘’I genuinely believe that Aemond is in love with her, and capable of change, if only given the chance. You as his elder sister, you as the Queen of Light, must head his command and wish to marry the mortal girl.’’ In his head, Daemon’s eyes roll. Rhaenyra has never been fond of anyone, especially not men, commanding her.

Unsurprisingly, the Queen is fuming, watching and waiting for her husband to rage and to curse. It’s not that strange that Rhaenyra is upset. She thought she and Alicent had an understanding. Something that bound the two together. Friendship or something more tragic than that. Destiny and fate. Hurt and death. They both mourned their children. They both regretted how things turned out. At least so she thought. 

Daemon does not respond, but his smile says plenty. He expected such a response and had warned his wife plenty of times. Since she's his Queen, he cannot forbid anything. But he did warn her, as she is his love as well. He can't truly deny her anything. He would shoot the stars down from the skies if only she asked. “I warned you. She remains Aemond's mother. She wouldn't want to take his precious toy away.” Alicent described  what he saw as well. That Aemond is changing. The Goddess of Justice knows better than anyone what's in his heart. She gave birth to him long ago. She should see through him the way one looks through a shard of glass.

Rhaenyra does not take well to that answer, slamming a glass pillar to the ground, breaking it. The shards shatter around as she sobs, wailing. “He has taken enough from me. He killed Lucerys. I will take his love away. He will bleed like I did.”  Daemon had killed plenty of times before. For good reasons. He killed Jaehaerys when he became the God of animals so his own son could get the godhood. He killed his own wife because he simply grew bored of her. 

“You know I have vowed to love and follow you.” Daemon says. “I swore I would always defend you and the crown you wear. Defend you from any threats. Do the unspeakable if needed.”

“We don't need to kill her. We can simply take her back and decide her fate here.” Rhaenyra pleads with Daemon to convince him, sensing his rejection. Decide her fate. As if any of this is the girl’s fault. Aemond kidnapped her. She didn’t plan any of this.

Daemon takes a step back. “I won't have a hand in this. You haven't seen how Aemond looked. The black and blue spots were gone from his cheekbones…He almost looked like your brother you lost.” He hates how hopeful his voice becomes. Rhaenyra’s stare becomes cold, dark, and a mirror of Aemond’s eyes, in a way.

“The brother that I lost or you, Daemon?” She crosses her arms over her dark red gown. “You two were inseparable before the war broke out.” There is an accusation there. ‘’He clinged to you as if you birthed him yourself. It’s that I know you despise Alicent, or I would’ve questioned things.’’ Daemon feels his stomach turn, hurt by her accusation.

He buried Lucerys with her. He buried Visenya with her. And the Greens buried Jaehaerys. The Greens mourned, as the Blacks cheered, and the Black mourned as the Green cheered. And on and on and on it went, in a never ending dance until all players were eliminated. To what end? For what goal? Immorality, the greater good, being right? Revenge?“I've always mocked Alicent but she has a point. This war cost us Jaehaerys, and Lucerys, Visenya so far. Who is next? Me, you? Mayhaps one of our children? Baela or Viserys?” He must lure her to sense somehow. 

Rhaenyra’s eyes fall on the portrait of her children, hanging near her throne. Lucerys smiles at her, his sweet eyes staring at her forever captured in a painting. 

Daemon grabs her hands. “I beg of you, Rhaenyra, not as your husband and uncle but as your subject, do the right thing. Do not send Aemond down this dark path again. I am not sure he will come back out this time.” If she truly wants war, a war between light and death, he isn’t sure how many will die…

And worse, he isn’t even sure he can kill Aemond if the need would occur.

“You’ve changed.” She whispers, her heart heavy, as tears sting in her eyes. Heartbroken and betrayed, the young Queen of Light and Realms returns to her lonely throne. She takes a seat and ignores her husband.

The way she stares, it says plenty. She has made up her mind. It will be war. A bloody war. 

He is terrified. For the first time in his life, Daemon Targaryen is terrified. The war will cost millions of lives. “So did you. It's been years since Lucerys died. Jaehaerys was enough. Where does this sudden need for revenge come from?” He asks. ‘’You said you wouldn’t wish what I had done on anyone, and now you want to continue the bloodshed? What aren’t you telling me?’’

Rhaenyra understands that Daemon is onto her. He will figure out the truth sooner rather than later. And what lie is better than the truth? If he knows the full truth: He will forbid Rhaenyra for doing what she must do, to ensure her victory and her reign in this war. If he doesn’t know, or if she slightly altered the truth, in the end, he will choose her. He will forgive her. He always does. “I'm pregnant.” It is true. 

Daemon seems surprised by the announcement, shocked if anything. He stares at the Queen’s belly. “It's to be another girl.” Rhaenyra adds. ‘’Since you remember what happened to Visenya, you can say I’ve become extra watchful. Aemond is out for blood. He wants that mortal bitch to become immortal. You told me so yourself. And our new child would become a perfect little goddess, don’t you think? If we were to eliminate Aemond-’’

‘’You speak of upsetting the balance of nature.’’ Daemon whispers, shaking his head. ‘’I mourned a daughter too, that day, Rhaenyra-’’

She stands up, getting in his face, her body shaking with barely composed anger.

‘’You didn’t mourn her the way I did. You didn’t push her out of your body, bleeding and screaming as a slaughtered pig as I ripped her from my body, dead and scaled as a monstrous lizard! You only wanted to invade the Crownlands and punish Aegon. You once were the man who didn’t do what was good, but what was needed! What has changed?’’

“Aren't we better off, letting Aemond have this one victory? She's a human girl. She was kidnapped in our garden but he claims he loves her.” He mutters, but he feels she’s winning him over. He can feel his walls lowering, his shields fading….

And so can she.

Rhaenyra smiles, taking his hands into her own. “That is part of the issue. If Aemond gets his hands on a spare Godhood and allows his love to kill a God, she becomes a Goddess. You know all too well that our children are his intended and preferred target.” She tells him. ‘’You promised Laena you’d look after your daughters. Surely you don’t intend for them to die on Aemond’s chopping block?’’

Daemon is a god made of flesh and bone but he’s not an idiot, despite many claim otherwise. He can tell that Rhaenyra only tries to play him. “Jacaerys and his children with Baela are accounted for and safe. The Goddess of Salt and The Sea God have offered her refuge.” Rhaenys and Corlys will keep them safe. Rhaenyra knows they are powerful and far away at the moment. Aemond would have trouble reaching them. He would prefer a smaller, closer target. Which is why she’s sending her children far, wide, and spread out.

But Rhaenyra is not just a mother to her own children. Not since she married Daemon. There is the case of Rhaena. “Your other daughter, the Goddess of Alteration? Is she safe too?’’ She asks. ‘’If she needs any help finding shelter-’’

Daemon smiles, seeing a shimmer of the old Rhaenyra back. “Rhaena has seeked shelter too. We all lay low for now. We do as we must.” 

It is silent for some time.

Time goes on, moving forward.

Yet they remain, unmoving and silent as stones.

Until he speaks.

“I want him back, Rhaenyra. I want my nephew back. I want…Peace.’’ He adds, softly.

Rhaenyra snorts and she never looked more like Aemond then than she does now.

“He's your brother.” He says, trying to change her mind.

She shrugs. She has one brother. One sister. And two parasites. “Half brother. He and Aegon stole my throne. They divided the realm, usurped me and my father.”

Daemon chuckles at her deflection. ‘’And the son of your friend. I was heir once. Until you supplanted me. The way Aegon supplanted you.” He reaches out, touching her crown…

A bright light blinds him, as Rhaenyra holds him away from her, with her magic. Invisible hands hold and choke Daemon, warning him to not try that again.

“You touch it at your own peril.” She warns him. ‘’I won’t hurt you, but I don’t want anyone touching what’s mine.’’ She adds, her voice breaking as she sees how much pain Daemon is enduring. 

He glares the moment he is freed, aware not ever will he be her equal. He will always be the second son. “Yes, your Grace.” He grits out, preparing to leave the room.

The doors are once again, pushed open. 

Their mortal guard enters, led by ser Harrold. He makes a bow for Rhaenyra, his face white with fear and anguish. Rhaenyra and Daemon share a look, as they both seem to already read the situation from his face. They might fight as any couple, but they are not any couple. They are Gods, they have responsibility. The realm must come first. Always.

Harrold does not waste a moment. “My queen, I've come bearing terrible news.” Rhaenyra's hands somehow lay on her stomach already. The same stomach she harbored and protected six children in. A seventh soon.

Harrold has been her loyal protector ever since she was little. “The convoy carrying the young Prince Aegon.” Rhaenyra clutches her stomach.

Daemon takes the word for now.

“Yes?”

Two guards bring in two corpses, of two other mortal guards, slain brutally. Rhaenyra never saw anyone killed like this. Their eyes ripped from their skulls, their throats flayed open and their entire organic system visible. Her son. Her poor son. He must be so frightened.

“It has been attacked. The young god of animals…He is missing.” Daemon glances at his wife, and has a split moment to capture her before she would hit her head on the marble, fainting. ‘’We are almost certain it was Aemond’s doing. What do you want us to do, my King?’’ Harrold asks a dumbstruck Daemon. ‘’We all await your answer.’’

—

Petal’s pov.

“Do you approve of it?” You gesture to the strange bodice made of dark black lace, giving contrast to your red gown. You look like a Queen of death, in all ways. Ann helped you brush your hair and put it up in a beautiful knot. The King of the underworld is meanwhile changing the colours of petals of roses; as if he cannot decide between the two options you see.

Dark red petals the colour of blood, or a soft hopeful blush shade the colour of a sunrise. You clear your throat, trying to get his attention. He finally sees you, gawks, stops his magic, and nearly falls out of his chair by the sudden movements his body makes, shocked by your sudden appearance. The vase falls over spilling the flowers over the table.  

You chuckle, adoring it. He seems furious at first and embarrassed, as he puts the flowers back in the golden vase.

But you don't laugh at him or the vase.

You feel free. You feel as if you have power. For the first time in your entire life, you are the one in power. You made the God of the underworld nervous. The King of Death.

He sees your eyes. Your joy. Careful and composed, hidden and barely visible, the corner of his lips slightly rise, approving.  “I can change if you don't like it…” You offer, extending him an olive branch. He said he would tell you the truth at long last. You would do almost anything for it.

“You look so effortlessly eternal.” He stands up and within a blink he's behind you. You notice he didn't deck the table at the two heads, but instead decked the place right of him. “I thought about our little argument. It is silly. You want to wear pants, you say. Well, I allow it. You want to wear poofy gowns, I allow it. You are the person I love for you, not for what you wear.”

He loves you? He surely said it before. But now it feels…Real. You feel your face become warm, as you avoid his eye, staring at your hands.

“I-” 

He kisses your cheeks, caressing your horns gently, inspecting them. You allow it all.

“Have my horns grown?” You wonder. “Ann said they have changed when she was adjusting my hair.” 

He nods, and you expect him to be joyful about this development. Instead you see a stern unmoving line on his lips, the slight case of worry and the dread in his one eye.

“Slightly, just a tiny bit. You should know they are changing colour. They have become slightly grayish.” They were black before. What is happening? 

“What does that mean, please, tell me.” you nearly beg, worried and dread filling you by the sight of his fear. 

Aemond thinks on whether to cook up another lie or to finally give you the truth. He shakes his head and wants to pretend you never asked him, but you stop him in his tracks by grabbing his arm. “It's about your destiny. It means we don't have the time I thought we had.” That answer is so horrible, so suffocating that you wish he had told you a lie.

“Aemond, you are scaring me.” You confess, your voice soft. 

He sighs. “I am just being honest, unfortunately.” He doesn't meet your eyes, staring at his bloodied nails. “You wanted the truth. I deceived and lied for long enough. You are my love. My Queen. You deserve to know.” He adds. “I was worried, telling you would chase you away. Or worse…” A silence falls between you.

“Can I be honest as well?” You ask.

“Depends.” Aemond murmurs, uncomfortable all of a sudden. You give him some time. “Yes.” He says, eventually and sits down bracing himself for the impact of your words.

You start. “I didn't think you would even think about our arguments. I didn't think you would even be able to reflect, let alone change your whole stance. I thought your way was the way things would go.” You admit, softly. His head snaps up in your direction.

He chuckles, hiding behind his cocky shield.

“Oh, things still will go as I want, don't you worry. I just want…” the shield shatters before your eyes and all that's left is a little boy. “My parents never loved each other.” He says, and the way he says it sounds as if he deeply regrets it. It surprises you. 

You are an orphan. You don't even know who your parents are. You do imagine you would like it for your parents if they had not left you to be together.  “I am sorry.”

He seems to appreciate it. But it has been a while that this is torturing him. “Don't be. He was a wicked monster. Capable of great sins.” You frown. He's describing a monster.

“What was his greatest sin?” You ask.

Aemond doesn't waste a moment.

“...Sloth, no doubt. Just waiting around for things to fall in place. We were like a castle and our pillars were made of salt and sand. We were collapsing. We needed our father. My mother needed her husband. All he did was shit, drink, throw a ball and spend time with his grandchildren.” He becomes more and more vocal as he progresses, his hands repeatedly playing with his rings.

You have seen Rhaenyra do the same, countless times actually. It is one of the few things that seem to connect them. 

He makes his voice extra Soft and timid. “Most children would be grateful to be reunited with their dead parents.” He whispers. You nod. You feel a sting.

Because you don't even know if your parents are still alive.“I prefer not going to the place below, the hells, because I know he's there as well. Even in his death I'm not freed of the imbecile.” He rolls his eye, as if picturing his father burning below. “I was mutilated for my life and all he cared about was Rhaenyra.”

You feel something stir inside of you. “He didn't care what I lost. I never mattered to him. He never glanced my way. Not even when he was alive. Not even becoming a god could cause him to blink twice in my direction.”

He sounds as a terrible man. “Can you free yourself of him? Throw in a fire or something?” He laughs, a joyful happy laugh. Sincere and sweet.

You are glad he seems to lose his anger again. “I adore your wicked, vicious creative mind.” He whispers, softly pecking your lips. “But no, my darling dearest. There are rules. Rules of nature that even I sadly must follow. But once his time is up, he'll burn and scream so long. And i'll be there to watch every painful moment for him. Mayhaps, you too shall come with me, and we can revel in his suffering together.” He fantasises, smiling.

You try to understand the rules of this place. It sounds as if Aemond is not the one making them. Something else, something ancient has set up the rules and he is to follow it. It seems that he's not responsible for the suffering as you thought. 

He is not as terrifying as you thought.

“I thought death was the end. Something ungodly and something scary where there are no rules.” You begin, uncertain where you are going. 

Aemond sees it different, offering you your seat nearby. “Death is part of life. It's like a flame casting shadow. Light without shadow cannot exist. And neither can life without death. It is a matter of balance. Balance is of utmost importance. without balance, no peace.” He says, as if it's that simple. “I could break the rules. In truth, some might say I do so by keeping you here. But I'm not a big fan of cheating. I abuse the system and find loopholes; I'll admit it. But you can't say I ever broke a rule.” he chuckles.

You recall how he kidnapped you.

“Daemon sold me to you as well.” You huff, uncomfortable at the memory. Aemond’s smile vanishes and he looks guilty and upset.

He thinks and speaks, picking his words carefully. “He did not want to at first. He wanted to keep you. He was uncertain of what would become of your fate. Once I…I told him of our bond, he agreed.” So sudden. So kind. So unlike him. Unlike anyone you ever met. No one does anything for free.

“What did Daemon get out of this arrangement?” You wonder. Aemond’s quick frown and worry betrays he didn't wonder about that as well earlier. He just assumed Daemon would grant him this? But why?

He plays with his rings, lost in thought. Then he chuckles as it clicks by him. “Hm. Sometimes, Petal, we need to see the bigger picture before we can understand the smaller pieces.” He tells you. “I've got all the truth for you. Just ask and you shall receive, my beloved Queen.”

You think. So long, you wanted to ask him anything. And now when you can you almost lose track of all the questions. Where to possibly start?

You think of how he captured you. You, an orphan girl…

The children that witch killed. The orphans. You wonder how they are doing. Are they here too? Hidden in a room somewhere? Or are they perhaps somewhere worse?  ‘I know It seemed like I manipulated you. perhaps I tried. But I'd really like to know for my own sake and because of my own background: what happened to the children that witch murdered? Did you perhaps resurrect them?”

He is silent for some time. But not because he will lie again. Because he will tell the truth. And that truth is so horrible that it even makes the King of death pause. “I do have that power, Petal. To decide over life and death.” he avoids looking at you, at anything really. “But what these children went through, the horror of them being hurt or even being abused by their own families…” There is a painful hidden crack in his voice. “I could not care for them, myself. Keep them here, feed them here. It would be dangerous. I could not trust the world to not hurt them either. Souls of children are often so pure. I didn't even see a single one of them, here in the Underworld. I assume that after they passed, they went to the Better place.” 

You think of the dozens of innocent children.

“What will you do with that witch?” You ask.

Aemond smirks, telling you enough. It will be painful and terrible. For some reason, you like that. You enjoy the way he smirks. You enjoy him killing that terrible woman. Torturing her for every child she killed. “I haven't decided yet. You see, it's my duty to make sure every soul is punished for their crimes. But her crimes aren't…She didn't do it because she was hungry or in debt. She did it for her pure sickened heart.” So there is some sort of justice and good in him. Hidden. Very thin as a lake of water that just started to freeze. 

“Never mind she tried to kill my Queen and my future wife. That is also being considered when discussing her punishment.” He says remembering how you were attacked.

“I have no reason to lie to you so I won't. She's a monster.” He concludes. “I have no issue torturing her, don't worry about that. I do have to decide what to do with her soul.”

He took you here. He endangered you. You are aware of that. “Are all people here as that? Monsters?” You need to know for your own sake. You need to know who you're up against.

He shakes his head. “No. Some made wrong choices, some are here for unfinished business. I am your King, your God but also your future husband, Petal. I won't let anyone hurt you.” He says, as if he reads your thoughts. He even dares to grasp your hands and kiss your knuckles.

That makes sense. Then his mask returns. “So. You want to talk as a couple. Begin.” The King is back and gone is the man. He challenges you to uphold your part of the agreement. You have never been on any sort of romantic date before.

You need a moment truth be told. What do couples do on dates? Well, they get to know one another. “Uhm, well. What is your most positive trait or quality?” You say, after you had time to catch your breath and adjust to the comfortable chair. Aemond leans with his hand on his arm, staring at your bodice as he begins to smirk.

You assume a cocky answer. “I am the King of death, darling. I don't have any.” He says, as if it's that simple. Except it's not. He said it himself. 

Anyone can see the cocky smirk of the King. Few can see the pain in his eye. You can, however. He sees himself lowly. “Respectfully, someone told me that Light cannot exist without shadow. Therefore, Shadow cannot exist without light.” He groans at your answer but also cannot hide his laugh. You continue. “You have a very strong sense of justice. And a big sense of duty. You remain calm in hectic situations and you-” He stops smiling, and you stop talking.

The King of the Underworld is silent. He plays with the rings. Unhappy and afraid he is not good enough. “I don't see that as something positive. I don't remain calm, my love. I simply don't feel emotions the way normal beings do. My heart isn't…” he puts his hand on his heart to explain but you stop him, capturing his hands. You need him to feel how much you care.

“I disagree.” you say, unaware of him staring at your hand on his own. “You don't have your heart, maybe. But you can't hide it from me that you have feelings. You feel strongly.” Aemond doesn't reply to that, but he does stare at the roses. You understand it's not for gods and immortal beings to feel or to admit it. Let along for the King of Death. 

You want him to know he's not alone. “I am not a saint, Aemond. Before Rhaenyra took me in, I stole and I lied. I had to steal my food and sleep in houses promising money I never gave.” He nods, along with your words. He already knew that. 

Then he shakes his head. “You are fiercely loyal. Brave. You rebelled against me. Me, the God of death itself.” You roll your eyes, touched but also not that impressed by your own accomplishments.

You know. He would not harm you.

“You wouldn't harm me.”

He doesn't answer you, huffing softly. As if the irony has finally hit him. “All I did was to protect you. You can never forget that.”

You feel anxiety taking root. It buries through your stomach, hurting you as you realize you and Aemond are alone. “I'd like to ask you a few things, if you don't mind. For example, where you learned my real name. And I also like to know why Daemon would even want me back.” You say.

Aemond plays with the rings again. You see the smile die on his lips, and his gaze hardens as the King comes before the man again. You understand you won't get your answers at all. Not from him. “My sources must be protected, Petal. Even from you. I can't tell you more than that.”

You will throw something. “And Daemon? Care to tell me how and what he gets in return from me?” You ask, your voice becoming sharper too.

You picture the endless lies and ways he can lie around this. But he does not even put in the effort to tell you the lie. “No.” And just like that, the walls are back and so is the King.

You feel tears burn. You got your hopes up. For nothing. “I want answers. You promised me I would get them. I am entitled to them.” You say, for you won’t give up now.

He chuckles. “You wont get them from me, little Petal. You don't want to know the answers to your questions, trust me. You'll go upstairs now and to your rooms.”

You won't be chased away again.

You have run from the truth for too long.

It's time you faced it.

“And if I were to become your Queen?” He stares at you, caught as a deer staring at a forest fire. He opens his mouth but nothing comes out as you cup his face. You watch the blood that leaves his hair drip down his shoulders. You don't break eye contact and you won't leave for the world. “If you love me, if we truly are meant for one another, we will end up together. You know this as much as I do. I'll be your wife. I'll be your Queen. The Mother of your children?” That really drives him over the line.

He freezes, startled. You have him right where you want him. “I don't think you know what that entails.” He adds nervously. “Having a child is…a messy situation. And I don't think you love me. Not truly.”

You roll your eyes. 

“Like this?” You ask before kissing him on his mouth. Aemond briefly freezes but accepts your kiss, leaning in and caresses your face. He is so gentle. So unlike him. ‘’Maybe you are right. I don’t know what I feel, Aemond. I have never been in love before. I wouldn’t know it if it hit me in the face.’’ 

“Why have you changed your mind?” You whisper. He has changed his mind so suddenly.

He is close to breaking. His voice a soft whisper. “I don't want to hurt you. I never want to hurt you. And it's all I do. Everyone I love ends up hurt. Or dead.” You reach out. You are sure it's not true. But if Aemond cannot see it, how do you make him see it? Is it possible to create light when all he sees is darkness?

You need him to be strong now. You need him to be truthful.  “Tell me. I endured worse than cakes filled with worms and hellfire. I can handle it. Tell me or admit that you don't love me.”

He sighs. But he does accept. He tells you the truth. “The Crown. Do you understand how an amplifier works?” He taps on the crown on his head. You shake your head, confused.

You never heard that word even before…

Yet it somehow is familiar as your own hands.

“No.” You say, staring at the strange relic Aemond never seems to remove.

He gestures with his hands up, and you see impressive tales made of paint tell you and any other viewer history, painted on the ceiling. “Once a hundred years, we are told of our chosen. All gods have one person. A chosen. Something about those humans aligns with us gods. I barely sacrificed any chosen, so I don't understand what it does, truth be told. But it boosts our abilities. The chosen are crowned as stags. Horns grow out of their heads after a while.”

You feel him touch your horns. “And slaughtered brutally.” He adds. “The horns, the horns, is how we recognize them.” He whispers as you feel your entire world crumble to dust. You stare at him, crying. In tears. He is going to sacrifice you.

You choke on your own tears, the pain biter and true. “I am your chosen. That's why I am truly here. You'll kill me for more power.” You never imagined it. You thought he would have a line he wouldn't cross. That you were his love. That you were something precious and holy. That someone, anyone, could love you.

You were wrong.

You step away, your tears burning. You feel so stupid. Aemond captures you easily. And when you look at his eyes, glaring, you see he is crying too. You freeze as blood drips from his eyelid. One side red, one side black. 

“You aren't my chosen, my love.” He whispers gently. You frown, confused. 

He takes a deep breath. “But you are Rhaenyra's. That is why she's so eager to get you back. So she can slit your throat and tear the horns from your skull and thrive in your youth and blood. It's why I stole you from her. We are meant to be together, but she is an obstacle. A dangerous goddess out for your blood.”

You shake your head, refusing to believe it. “Rhaenyra has been nothing but kind.” You stutter. “You must be misinformed. She never would do anything to harm me.”

He chuckles. “Wouldn't she? Is that why she lied to you your whole life?”

But judging Aemond's reaction, judging the way Rhaenyra is so eager to get you back, and what Aemond told you, it is hard to ignore the signs. “You wanted answers, Petal. I shall grant them to you. Answers that will hurt. It will leave a hole. But in time; we will fill it together.” He holds your hands gently.

You shake your head, afraid as you sob.

“I don't think I want the answers anymore-”

Aemond sighs. “I must show you now. It's for the best.” He says, to himself. You watch as he creates a tall large mirror. When he waves over it, an image appears. 

It's a beach. A lovely beach where a family lives in a small hut. Two people take care of a crying baby. You never see their faces. But you do see the baby. You don't understand what you are watching. 

The parents take the baby out of the hut. They plan to take it somewhere. 

A wave comes out of nowhere, a wave unlike any wave you saw before. A wave so powerful and cruel that somehow you know it is not nature. It's immortality. It's the work of a God.

The hut is pushed back into the sea as the baby screams, alone on the shore as the parents drown. You begin to sob a little louder, as you begin to realize Aemond didn't show you a random baby. He is showing you a memory. Your earliest memory. 

You reach for the mirror, your soft sniffles becoming sobs. You cling to it, eager to see their faces. Eager to see your parents. You cursed them, hated them, resented them. And what did they do, besides love and protect you? You press your fingers against the glass as tears fall down, your body shaking with sobs. “Who was the cause of this? Those people…are those people…?”

Aemond doesn't speak a word but joins you near the mirror on the ground. He sits behind you and holds you, caressing your face.  When he speaks, his words hit like blows. His voice is gentle and that makes it only worse. He pities you. “You were the only survivor.” Somehow, that makes it feel real. His confirmation that your parents are truly gone, makes it real and …devasting.

They are dead.

Truly gone.

“Why didn't I die?” You whisper. A cruel question to ask in front of the man who went through so much trouble to protect you. He seems uncomfortable, as if placed in a for him unfamiliar situation.

You spent years hating them.

“I dont know-” Aemond mutters, but you don't believe him.

You spend years wishing they had died if they were alive, for leaving you.

“Why didn't I die with my family?!” You scream, glaring at him as if it's his Fault.

They loved you.

They never left you.

They never once didn't love you.

They protected you until the end.

You burst into sobs, covering your mouth as you replay the events over and over and over again. You always imagined how your parents looked. They look the same as you, in some ways, and different in others. 

Aemond rubs your back carefully, first trying out if he's allowed to touch you at all. Then he touches your back, and somehow it does not hurt you. It does not burn you.  “Its complicated. The storm you see was caused by a god. In all accounts; you should have died. Us gods can kill others chosen.”

He takes a deep breath, before rambling. “I recently killed Jace's chosen for one.” He tries to distract you. “Petal, I know the wound is fresh and deep. I beg of you, please stop hurting yourself for now. Put the mirror away, my love.” Your eyes finally leave the mirror, as the baby is crying again, alone.

Aemond offers you his hand.

You stand up, with his help.

You want to collapse the moment you stand.

“So a goddess is after me, and it's likely she murdered my parents?” You summerize.

He makes movements with his hands as he thinks, shaking his head.

“Something protected you. I know it wasn't me, I didn't know of you just yet. It's unlikely that Rhaenyra would kill you before your horns had riped, and even the god who caused the storm didn't even know you were there or that you would grow up to be a chosen. None of us knew yet. That's what makes this all so vague.”

You understand Aemond knows who did this.

Aemond knows who killed your parents.

Who made you grow up the way you did.

Unloved and unwanted.

Crying yourself to sleep because you wanted anyone, someone, to love you.

He knows.

“Who's the God who did this?” You ask, gesturing to the mirror. Aemond waves his hand over the glass, and the image disappears. You feel angry and thankful that he did that at the same time. Angry because he took away your parents, in a way. But thankful because you wouldn't have stopped torturing yourself.

A new one appears of a young boy, with dark black hair, wearing a smile, and playing with Rhaenyra and her children. You know him well. You often were allowed around the other royals. Your blood boils. You played with this monster, you protected it, told it bedtime stories. What did it do in return? Kill your parents.

The King sits back down, on the chair. You don’t notice his satisfied smirk and crossed legs as he enjoys watching you boil with anger. That would be Joffrey. I believe that’s the King of Storms. He was quite young. He threw a tantrum.” A tantrum.

A child. A child did that. Because a child cannot control their emotions. Aemond is an adult, and he barely can master the emotions and the power he wields. What is a child supposed to do with such ungodly powers? “A child has no use of a godhood nor the right to hold it. He's the reason I'm an orphan. Rhaenyra knew. She knew and she let me share bread and water with that murderer.” You say, glaring at the image.

Aemond chuckles warmly, wrapping his arms around you. When he presses you to his chest, you feel a faint spark. “Mhm.  You see, she has some troubling times. Her chosen is a hostage of her enemy, and her circle of trusted friends is growing ever smaller. She prefers having a spoon in every meal. Death, life, resurrection, nature. But it no longer works that way. That makes her desperate, that makes her afraid. And that makes her dangerous.” That’s why he took you when he did.

“You see now, there was no time to explain. I had to take you right away. My brother lately ascended to godhood. Daeron. He took the Godhood of the War with him. Rhaenyra put it under the care of one of her minions. Now that minion is dead.” He says cheerfully as if he is not discussing murder.

You frown, aware where this conversation is going. “How did Daeron kill the other gods? I thought you were immortal?” You remark, asking for Aemond’s input.

Aemond points to the crown on his head, smirking. “All of us have a talisman. You must destroy it, and drive a dagger made of pure silver through our hearts.” His crown.

He does something unexpected. He rises. And finally, he kneels. You are aware he’s holding his breath. “I don't want to lose you. I want you to become my goddess. My Queen. I want you to become immortal. Do you want that, Petal?”

You frown, unsure. Do you want that? To live forever? It seemed out of the question. It seemed as a fantasy. Something a child would dream of. Because only a child could dream of it, knowing you would watch everyone you love die. “I don't know. I'd have to kill someone. I never did that before. I'd have people to look after. Souls to guide. I don't know, Aemond. I'm a failure. I don't know how to manage my own life let alone help others.” You admit, sniffling.

He smiles, kissing your forehead, taking deep breaths as he calms you both down.

“You are anything but a failure.” He whispers. ‘’You saved me.’’ You don’t feel as a savor.

Aemond suddenly frowns, lifting his head, as he turns his head towards the windows overlooking the mountain tops. You follow his gaze. ‘’Something wrong?’’ You ask, as Aemond begins to smirk wider, broader, and bigger.

‘’Just a package that came in early. Nothing to worry about for now. Just think about what I said. I want to protect you, but if you were to become a goddess, you wouldn’t need my protection. You’d be able to explode people and to throw them from rocks.’’ He chuckles, adoring that image of you killing people. You, you are rather horrified by the idea. He seems to notice your hesitation and sighs, kissing your hands. ‘’Just think about it. That’s all I ask.’’ You sigh, understanding that he’s right. He cannot protect you forever. You have to decide…get killed, or murder someone.

fight or die.

..................................................

I'm so sorry it took some long but i rather I know what im doing nowadays than that i make sh*t up last minute and basically ruin it for 1. readers 2. me, because id be like ''well, thank you, f*cking past me, how the f*ck am i supposed to make this mess ok again?'' xD and now im like, excited, yes, so the cat is out of the bag. Rhaenyra wants to kill her. I saw someone who had a very close guess to this, saying it would be Aemond, but no, its sweet Rhaenyra.

also petal learning the truth about her parents...

thank you, if you're still around!!!!!!!

if you saw me copy the title/description from my past COB post, no you didnt.

[deadbydad]

"OH, GOD OF WAR 2018 AND RAGNAROK SUCK BC KRATOS ISNT EVEN THE GOD OF WAR" "KRATOS ISNT AS COOL BC HES NOT MURDERING PEOPLE ANYMORE OR KILLING ANY GODS)

That's....The fucking point?

The whole point of 2018 and Ragnarok is that Kratos doesn't wanna be the God of War anymore, he's tired of war and being manipulated and used by other gods, and he's tired of killing in general.

It's called character development....If Kratos was the same old guy back in the Greece days he would be so boring now.

And he only killed Baldur, Heimdall, Modi and Magni. Those are the only God's he's killed but that was because they attacked first or were gonna kill or hurt Atreus.

But even then, Kratos gave them a second chance to change.

Odin killed Thor and Sindri killed Odin, not Kratos.

The whole theme of these two games is defying destiny, changing one's self not only for the others around them but for themselves as well. It's about family as well and how blood doesn't make a family it's who you choose to have in your family. It's about second chances and that you are not your failures and that you can be better than who you were.

Ragnarok has so many themes to it that I will make a separate post about it, but saying that Kratos or the game in general sucks just because Kratos isn't the same character he was in the first three games means that you missed the whole point of the Norse games.

[apricitycanvas]

Princess Jambavati

A daughter of Legends

Born of Vyāghrī & nurtured under the watchful eyes of the mighty Jāmbavān, Jāmbavatī’s lineage was etched in the annals of time. The blood of bears & warriors coursed through her veins, yet her grace rivaled the lotus in bloom.

The Jewel of Destiny

Prasena, adorned with the radiant Syamantaka jewel gifted by the Sun God to Satrājit (Father of Satyabhama), ventured deep into the forest. Fate had woven a different tale for him—he fell prey to a mighty lion. The beast, claiming the jewel, was in turn vanquished by Jāmbavān, the venerable king of bears. Yet, the cycle of fate had not ceased. Lord Hari, the eternal protector, overcame Jāmbavān after a relentless battle. As dawn cast its first golden rays, peace emerged from strife—Jāmbavān, humbled, bowed before his master. In deep reverence, he offered both the jewel and his beloved daughter, Jāmbavatī, to the Lord. Thus, she stepped into the sacred city of Dvārakā, as the consort of the divine.

A Legacy of Valor

Sāmba, the heroic son of Jāmbavatī, dared to defy convention, forcefully abducting Duryodhana’s daughter Lakshmana in an act that shook the halls of the Kuru dynasty. Other children:- Mitravan, Mitravinda, Mitravahu and Sunitha and a daughter by name Mitravati. While Shrimad Bhagawatam says “Samba, Sumitra, Purujit, Śatajit, Sahasrajit, Vijaya, Citraketu, Vasumān, Draviḍa and Kratu were the sons of Jāmbavatī. These ten, headed by Sāmba, were their father's favorites”.

A Melody for the Divine

Upon the revered mountain of Raivataka, where the celestial winds whispered the hymns of the ancients, the sage Nārada sought an audience with Shri Krishna. With a heart full of devotion, he spoke of the divine arts, of music that transcended mortal perception. The Lord, in His eternal wisdom, turned to His consort, His voice laced with mirth, “O gentle one, teach this sage the sacred art of the lute, for none are as skilled as you.” With a smile as serene as the moon’s glow, Jāmbavatī, ever devoted, accepted His command. In perfect harmony, she guided Nārada, her notes weaving the celestial tapestry of sound, as the heavens listened in silent admiration.

The Eternal Devotee

प���राज्ञाय देहकृदमुं निजनाथदैवं सीतापतिं त्रिनवहान्यमुनाभ्ययुध्यत्।

ज्ञात्वा परीक्षित उपाहरदर्हणं मां पादौ प्रगृह्य मणिनाहममुष्य दासी॥

With humility as vast as the sky, Jāmbavatī spoke of her father’s battle—twenty-seven days of relentless combat, unaware that the one he fought was none other than the Lord he had once worshiped, the very husband of Sītā. When realization dawned, his mighty form bowed, and with reverence, he offered his daughter and the jewel. “I am but His servant,” she whispered, her voice a hymn of surrender. In the heart of Dvārakā, she remained—forever a queen, yet forever a devotee, her love etched in the eternal embrace of the divine

The River of Devotion

या नारी तत्र देवेशि भक्त्या स्नानं समाचरेत् ।

तदन्वयेपि काचित्स्त्री न वैधव्यमवाप्नुयात् ॥

The call of the Ganges bore tidings of sorrow. Jāmbavatī, the chaste queen, heard of her lord’s passing through Arjuna’s voice, bright and fierce like fire. In unwavering devotion, she kindled the flames of the funeral pyre and, with a resolute heart, surrendered her mortal form. As the embers faded, her essence flowed forth as a sacred river, immortalized in the currents of sanctity. With gentle hands, she gathered the ashes of her beloved and let them dissolve into the ocean’s embrace. Even today, where the Jāmbavatī river flows, it is said that no woman in her lineage shall ever taste the sorrow of widowhood.

🌹···—–—⚜—–—···🌹···—–—⚜—–—···🌹

Artist - instagram • pinterest

[jadegretz]

In the shadowed alleys of a city that glittered with neon lights but pulsed with darkness beneath the surface, Raven moved with an elegance that belied the chaos swirling around her. Cloaked in a deep indigo cape that fluttered like the wings of a raven taking flight, she traversed the urban jungle with a purpose known only to her. Every footstep was a whisper in the night, her presence more felt than seen, a harbinger of hope for some and dread for others. People spoke of her not just as a superhero but as an enigma, a force of nature who danced on the edges of fate itself.

Tonight, though, an ominous weight hung in the air, heavier than the fog that rolled in from the nearby river. The streets felt charged, alive with anticipation, as though the city itself knew that something monumental was about to unfold. Raven could sense the shift, her instincts heightened. She had faced countless foes, each one an embodiment of darkness, yet the uneasiness that gnawed at her this time was different. An echo; an unfamiliar voice weaving through the tendrils of night, awakening her senses, warning her.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a shriek—piercing, raw, a sound that clawed at the fabric of her very being. Without hesitation, she soared upwards, her cape billowing around her like a protective shell. As she ascended, she caught sight of the source of the scream: a figure cloaked in shadows battling against a group of terrified civilians. Instinct took over; she swooped down, the wind whistling past her ears, as she prepared to intervene.

Yet as she landed, she was struck by an unearthly silence. The chaos she had anticipated morphed into a surreal tableau of frozen time. People stood motionless, their expressions etched in fear, eyes wide as they gazed into nothingness but with a palpable tension hanging in the air. Only the cloaked figure, surrounded by wisps of darkness that seemed to defy reality, moved—slowly, deliberately.

“Raven,” the figure intoned, voice melodious yet chilling, echoing with a power that seemed to rise from the very fabric of the universe. “You’ve arrived just in time.”

Raven narrowed her eyes, fueled by confusion and defiance. “Who are you?” she demanded, the resolve in her voice contradicting the uncertainty she felt inside.

“Call me Destinor,” the figure replied, an enigmatic smile spreading across their shadowy visage. “I have come to offer you a gift—a chance to rewrite your story.”

An icy shiver crept down her spine. “I don’t want your gifts. I forge my own path.”

Destinor tilted their head, as if savoring the assertion. “Do you truly believe that, Raven? The path you walk is woven into the tapestry of fate. Your story, like all stories, has been penned long before you ever took your first breath.”

Raven felt a surge of anger rise within her, a fierce flame ignited by the suggestion that her life was merely a handful of threads laboriously knit together by some unseen creator. “I am no puppet to be pulled along by destiny’s strings! I carve my own way in this life.”

“Do you?” Destinor stepped closer, shadows writhing around them like serpents. “You’ve battled monsters and demons, saved lives, yet here you stand, confronted by the very essence of inevitability. Tonight, I challenge you, Raven. Defy the predetermined outcomes, or embrace the chaos I offer.”

In that moment, the world seemed to unfurl around her like an origami nightmare. The cityscape melted into a haze of shadows and memories, each fragment a different possibility branching off from Raven’s past, her future; shifting, swirling like smoke in a violent tempest. Each twist and turn bore echoes of choices made, opportunities lost, paths not taken, and with them, the weight of potential consequences loomed heavy.

Raven steadied herself, centering her thoughts. “I will not play your game,” she declared, her voice steady against the chaotic symphony mingling in the background. “I will use my own strength to confront whatever lies ahead.”

At her defiance, Destinor’s laughter rang out—a sound both melodic and unsettling, reverberating through the air with a dissonance that sent shivers racing down her spine. “Strength? It lacks depth in the face of destiny. What boundless power you could possess if you simply relinquished control!”

Reality warped around Raven, thrusting her into a series of nightmarish visions. She saw herself, fractured and broken, as countless versions flickered through her mind—each one bearing scars …(more at https://www.deviantart.com/jadegretzai). For more supergirl, chun li, batgirl, tifa, lara croft, wonder woman, rogue and much more, please visit my page at www.deviantart.com/jadegretzai - Thanks for your support :)

[imaginesforfandom]

A Wolverine's Heartache - Part III

Part I Part II

i'm so sorry it took so long for me to post this!! i've been drowning in work :,(

Logan/James Howlett x Reader

She/Her pronouns used!!

Summary: Logan struggles after seeing a person he loves alive. Will he be able to save her?

In the moments leading up to Logan's journey back in time, the Xavier Institute was a hub of frantic activity, a beacon of hope in the face of impending doom. The threat of the Sentinels loomed large, casting a shadow of fear and uncertainty over the mutant community.

Logan, haunted by the memory of Y/N's tragic death and driven by a desperate need to prevent further loss, had become the linchpin in a daring plan to alter the course of history. With the help of Professor Xavier and a handful of trusted allies, Logan prepared to embark on a mission that would defy the very fabric of time itself.

The decision to send Logan back in time was not made lightly. It required sacrifices – sacrifices that weighed heavily on the hearts of those left behind. Yet, in the face of imminent destruction, there was no room for hesitation.

As Logan stood before the makeshift time-travel device, his resolve hardened like steel. The weight of his mission bore down on him, a burden he carried with grim determination. He knew the risks – the possibility of altering the timeline, of facing enemies both old and new – but the chance to rewrite history and save those he loved was a gamble he was willing to take.

Before he could second-guess himself, Logan braced himself for the journey ahead. With a final glance at his comrades, a silent promise etched in his eyes, he stepped into the swirling vortex of energy, disappearing into the unknown depths of the past.

In that pivotal moment, the fate of the world hung in the balance. For Logan, it was a journey fraught with peril and uncertainty, but it was also a journey fueled by hope – hope for redemption, for a chance to right the wrongs of the past, and for a future where Y/N's death would be nothing more than a distant memory.

As Logan's consciousness shifted through time, propelled back to a pivotal moment before the devastation wrought by the Sentinels, a sense of urgency gripped him like a vice. His mission was clear: to prevent the cataclysmic events that had led to Y/N's tragic demise.

Arriving in the past, Logan found himself in a world that was both familiar and yet subtly different. The Xavier Institute bustled with life, its halls alive with the laughter of students and the gentle hum of telepathic conversations. But for Logan, it was a world tinged with sorrow, a reminder of the losses he had endured.

As he navigated the bustling corridors, searching for allies to aid him in his quest, Logan's heart quickened at the thought of encountering Y/N. She existed in this timeline, vibrant and alive, yet unaware of the role she would play in shaping their shared destiny.

When Logan finally came face to face with Y/N, his breath caught in his throat. She was different here – a younger version of the person he had known, her features softened by innocence and untainted by the scars of war. And yet, there was an undeniable familiarity in her presence, a connection that transcended the boundaries of time.

As their eyes met, Logan felt a surge of emotions wash over him – longing, regret, and a fierce determination to protect her at all costs. In that fleeting moment, he saw echoes of the Y/N he had lost, a reminder of the bond they had shared across time and space.

But for Y/N, Logan was a stranger – a mysterious figure with haunted eyes and a sense of purpose that seemed to emanate from his very being. And yet, there was something in his gaze, a depth of emotion that stirred something within her – a feeling she couldn't quite place.

As Logan reached out to Y/N, his hand trembling with the weight of unspoken truths, he knew that convincing her to join him would be no easy task. But for Y/N, Logan's presence ignited a spark of curiosity, a whisper of destiny that beckoned her towards a future she could not yet fathom.

As Logan stood before the younger version of Y/N, his heart clenched with a mixture of emotions – longing, regret, and an urgent sense of purpose. He knew that convincing her of the impending danger would be no easy task, especially considering she had no recollection of their shared history.

Y/N regarded him with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion, her brows furrowed in confusion. "Who are you?" she demanded, her voice tinged with a hint of defiance.

Logan took a deep breath, steeling himself for the difficult task ahead. "I know this is hard to believe, but you need to listen to me. I'm from the future, and I've seen what happens if we don't act now."

Y/N's eyes widened in disbelief, a scoff escaping her lips. "From the future? That's impossible. Why should I trust you?"

Logan knew he had to choose his words carefully, to break through the wall of skepticism that surrounded her. "I know this is a lot to take in, but I've seen the devastation caused by the Sentinels. They've hunted us down, taken everything from us. If we don't stop them now, there won't be a future for any of us."

Y/N's expression softened slightly, but her hesitation remained palpable. "And why should I believe you? You could be anyone, spinning tales to manipulate me."

Logan's jaw tightened with frustration, but he forced himself to remain calm. He understood her skepticism – after all, he was asking her to believe in the impossible. "I understand your doubts, but you have to trust me. Lives are at stake here, including yours. We need to work together to stop this."

Y/N's gaze flickered with uncertainty, torn between disbelief and a nagging sense of curiosity. She wanted to dismiss Logan's words as the ramblings of a madman, but there was something in his eyes – a depth of sincerity that gave her pause.

As Logan pleaded with her to heed his warning, Y/N felt a surge of conflicting emotions wash over her – fear, anger, and a flicker of hope. In that moment of uncertainty, she grappled with the weight of the decision before her, knowing that the fate of the world rested in her hands – and in the hands of the enigmatic stranger who claimed to hold the key to their salvation.

The moment hung suspended in time, a fragile balance between doubt and determination. Y/N stood before Logan, her gaze locked with his, uncertainty etched into the lines of her face. Logan's plea echoed in the air, a whispered promise of redemption and salvation, and for a fleeting instant, Y/N hesitated.

But then, something shifted within her – a spark of resolve that ignited in the depths of her soul. It was a quiet realization, born from the depths of her own courage and fueled by the unwavering belief that together, they could make a difference.

With a steadying breath, Y/N met Logan's gaze, her voice steady despite the turmoil raging within her. "Alright. I'll help you."

The words hung in the air like a beacon of hope, a testament to the strength of her conviction. In that moment, a weight lifted from Logan's shoulders, replaced by a surge of gratitude and relief. He had expected resistance, perhaps even outright rejection, but Y/N's willingness to trust him filled him with a sense of purpose unlike anything he had ever known.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As the tension reached its peak in the crowded conference room, Logan and Y/N moved with precision and determination, their eyes locked in silent communication. They had trained for this moment, prepared for the pivotal role they would play in altering the course of history.

Amidst the chaos, Mystique, disguised as a government official, made her move, her gun trained on Trask, the architect of the Sentinel program. But before she could pull the trigger, Logan sprang into action, his instincts honed by years of combat.

With a swift motion, he intercepted Mystique's shot, deflecting the bullet away from its intended target. The room erupted into chaos as panic spread like wildfire, but Logan remained focused, his gaze never wavering from Mystique's determined form.

Beside him, Y/N moved with a grace and precision that belied her years, her powers weaving through the air like a symphony of light and shadow. With a flick of her wrist, she immobilized Mystique, her telekinetic abilities holding her captive in a shimmering cocoon of energy.

As the dust settled and order was restored, Logan and Y/N shared a fleeting glance, a silent acknowledgment of the pivotal role they had played in preventing catastrophe. In that moment, the bond between them deepened, forged in the crucible of adversity.

But as they stood amidst the aftermath of their actions, a sense of uncertainty lingered in the air. The future remains uncertain, and the threat of the Sentinels still loomed large. Yet, for the first time in a long time, Logan allowed himself to feel a glimmer of hope – a hope that with Y/N by his side, they could face whatever challenges lay ahead, together.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As Logan's consciousness shifted back to the future, his senses reeled from the disorienting transition. The world around him was a blur of chaos and destruction, the aftermath of the battle against the Sentinels evident in the smoldering ruins that surrounded him. But amidst the devastation, one sight stood out like a beacon of light in the darkness.

There, among the ragged survivors, stood Y/N – her presence a ray of hope amidst the despair. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as Logan's gaze locked onto her familiar form, his heart swelling with a mixture of relief and gratitude.

Without hesitation, he moved towards her, his steps fueled by an overwhelming urge to reach her side. As he drew closer, their eyes met, and in that instant, a flood of emotions washed over him – longing, regret, and a fierce determination to protect her at all costs.

Unable to resist any longer, Logan closed the distance between them in a single stride, his arms enveloping Y/N in a tight embrace. It was a gesture born from the depths of his soul, a silent vow to never let her go again.

In that poignant moment, as Logan's arms enveloped Y/N in a tight embrace amidst the wreckage of their war-torn world, a whirlwind of emotions stirred within him, threatening to overwhelm his senses.

First and foremost was an overwhelming sense of relief – relief that Y/N was alive and standing before him, a beacon of hope amidst the devastation. The mere sight of her, her presence a comforting reminder of their shared history and the bond they had forged, filled his heart with a profound sense of gratitude.

But alongside relief, there was also a deep-seated longing – a longing for the lost time, for the moments they had shared before the world had descended into chaos. Seeing Y/N again awakened a flood of memories, memories of laughter and camaraderie, of unspoken connections and shared moments that now felt like distant echoes in the wake of tragedy.

Mixed with longing was a potent undercurrent of regret – regret for the pain and suffering they had endured, for the lives lost and the futures stolen. Logan couldn't help but wonder if there was more he could have done, if he could have somehow prevented the devastation that had torn them apart.

Yet, amidst the tumult of emotions, there was also a fierce determination – a determination to protect Y/N at all costs, to ensure that she would never again face the horrors of war alone. In that moment, as he held her close, Logan made a silent vow to do whatever it took to keep her safe, to carve out a future where they could finally find peace.

And underlying it all was a profound sense of love – a love that transcended time and space, a love that had endured despite the odds. In Y/N's arms, Logan found solace amidst the chaos, a glimmer of hope in a world consumed by darkness.

After the embrace had ended, Logan held onto Y/N's hands tightly, his gaze locking with hers with a newfound intensity. In that moment, the weight of his unspoken emotions pressed heavily upon him, urging him to finally lay bare the truth that had long been buried within his heart.

"Y/N," he began, his voice rough with emotion, "I… I need you to know something. I've been a fool, blind to what's been right in front of me all along."

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise, her heart fluttering with a mixture of anticipation and apprehension. She waited with bated breath as Logan continued, his words carrying the weight of a lifetime's worth of regrets.

"I love you, Y/N," Logan confessed, his voice barely above a whisper but filled with an undeniable sincerity. "I've loved you for longer than I care to admit, but I was too damn stubborn to see it. I let my fears and insecurities cloud my judgment, and for that, I'm sorry."

Tears welled in Y/N's eyes at Logan's confession, her heart swelling with a rush of emotions she could hardly comprehend. In that moment, the walls she had built around her heart crumbled, leaving her vulnerable but unafraid.

"Logan," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion, "I love you too. I've loved you for as long as I can remember, but I was too afraid to say it. Too afraid of what it might mean, of what we might lose."

Their hands tightened around each other's, a silent vow passing between them. In that shared moment of vulnerability, Logan and Y/N laid bare their hearts, their love for each other a beacon of hope in a world shrouded in darkness.

And as they stood together, tears mingling with smiles, they knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, as long as they were together, they would face them with unwavering courage and unyielding love. For in each other's arms, they had found a home – a sanctuary amidst the chaos, where their love could flourish and grow stronger with each passing day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

again, i'm so sorry it took me so long!!! this term has been so exhausting :,(

i really hope you guys liked the final part!! i hadn't meant to make it this long but i got a little carried away lol. i know it's not fully canon to the movies, sorry bout that.

[tetobrain]

ATTENTION GRABBER!!

FIRST DRAFT OF ALTERNATE UNIVERSE ODYSSEY FANFIC/MYTH ITERATIVE

INCLUDING A TRAGIC PENELOPE AND TELEMACHUS BEING FORCED TO MATURE INTO BRUTAL PRAGMATISM TO SURVIVE

OKAY PLEASE ENJOT:

The Telemechiad

Book One;

Across an endless canvas of stars, beyond life and light, primordial night wanders:

Reality as her muse, Nyx cries in divine boredom, “O, infinite cosmos, answer to my call, and with the threads of your being weave me a tale. A tale of destiny defied! Inspire in me a story of a time where fate fails and mortals fall!.”

Servant to her primordial demand, the stars shift, the world bends, as time itself bows before her, split in two; and so she would peer into the cracks between, where a song would grace her ears.

And in this song, she heard the musings of the gods who bicker so meaninglessly below her-

Athena’s voice would pierce firstly, a cry of simmering rage and sorrow, “Father! Do not tell me you cannot see the injustice of his fate! Would you have a simple man on his way home suffer so excessively?”

Zeus gave an indignant nigh indifferent look, his eyes bored as he gazed upon his fiery daughter, “I do not have this man do anything! It was not I who cast him into the underworld, and it was not I who had him disrespect Persephone.”

The goddess of war, though not as enflamed as her brother, was not quick to surrender her stance;

“And what of Xenia? Have you no care for the suitors or their blatant disrespect? Tame for now yes, but their anger is bubbling, their rage imminent. Have you no concern for your own domain?”

Upon these poison tipped words, the sky rumbled and shook with a deep, grey, fury. Zeus’ voice boomed as he reprimanded insolent war, “Do you mean to call me a hypocrite? Or perhaps a coward? My daughter you may be but your words from here should be chosen with caution. Know that my judgement is ultimate and fate inevitable; if my divine law is disrespected then of course punishment shall follow suit!- that said, when and how is not of concern. If, still, you are so concerned with my xenia or this mans nostos, then I may allow you to deal with it yourself!”

Thunder cracked and rumbled as he waved his hand, “Go then! Descend for this foolish man! Or is your word fiercer than your conviction?”

Athena bit her lip in restrained rage and deep concern; colorless ichor flowing from her bite as she weighed her options. She knew she didn’t have much choice, The King Of The Skies would not tolerate much more, and to stop here would be to abandon her pride.

So, with a powerful step that boomed against the rumbling heavens- a final resounding of her authority and pride- she would stride off toward the underworld, “Then it is so, I will hold the mantle of the one to honor nostos and xenia then if that is what you wish.” Her words were sharp, like a unexpected arrow to the gut- and so too was it cunning, as Zeus did not wish to chase her down for such inconsequential sentiments.

And so with burning conviction, of pride as the cunning of war, as authority as a goddess, and as her stakes in this man, she descends.

And silently, like a murmur, something escapes her lips in an exasperated breath,

“Telemachus… I will not be able to watch you during this, I may only have faith in your safety”

Thunder rumbles and booms over the rowdy ithaca; the halls of the kingdom loud with drunken rage and reckless frustration, it had been a week or maybe more, and still no man could string the kings bow.

As if in rhythm to the suitors rage, rain beats relentlessly against the castle, chilling its halls with the premonition of tragedy. The fates whispered between the taps of water tonight.

The rain would however find entrance through the open window within penelopes chambers, flooding her stone floor and soaking her carpet; and like a siren upon a rock, Constant Penelope in all her fatigued majesty sits upon her olive-carved wedding bed; barely out of range.

In her hands she weaves, her eyes flicker and shudder, the shroud shall be finished.

Within this same room sat Thoughtful Telemachus, seemingly the only one bothered by the cold that washes over not only his body but mind and soul. Within his heart is a deep darkness, a feeling he cannot shake, as if the fates itself are warning him.

“Mother, shall I go fetch something to cover the window? Do not worry, I do notfear the suitors; Rather, I could likely quell them-”

“That will not be necessary.” Her voice was sweet and soothing as she cut through his sentence- but her eyes seemed lost, glazed over. There was something bittersweet about the way she gazed weakly at the shroud, now finished, in her hands.

Something was not right, and telemachus knew it; she did not look him in the eyes when she spoke,

“I am sure you know, but I am a spartan. I can not claim the title of warrior, but I’ve been close to those who are, I’ve grown up in that world.” Her words were slow, deliberate, as if every breath required a year of thought;

telemachus’ heart grew heavier with dread,

“Every warrior is expected to meet impossible circumstances, and in these circumstances they must make impossible decisions. As an example: If the gods have left you, would you wait in vain at risk of your own family?”

Telemachus’ voice falters, “What do you mean mother?”

The wise penelope gazes distantly past her son’s eyes “What I mean to say is, something happened. I do not know what, I do not know how, but something happened. I have spent now over 20 years waiting for your father, because I love him.” The wife of odysseus still would not meet his gaze as she reached over to a table, her gently calloused fingers wrapped slowly around a chalice of unkown liquid,

“That said, I also must consider that for 20 years, I’ve grown to love you as my son. I cannot easily put one of you above the other, so I must approach this pragmatically…”

Flawless penelope would close her eyes as her icy silky hands shook- bringing the chalice intimate to her lips; and hero telemachus, pushed by a deep instinct, would try to run forward; but the mother of ithaca was swift as she brought it to her lips, and that rancid bitter fluid ran down her throat, gulped greedily as if she were drinking ambrosia itself,

“I say this to tell you this, my actions today are not a betrayal of faith, they are not me giving up on your father or renouncing him, so i ask you to do the same. Have faith in wise odysseus, and however you two may meet ensure it is not at Styx, not with me.”

“... Then why?”

“Because I love you as much as I love your father. But i know not when your father will get back, or how. You however are right infront of me, I cannot save him, I can save you.” With shaky hands, weak from the poison which ravages her, she hands him the shroud, “take this, and run. As far and fast as you can. I will not survive, so you must. If you must burn this to keep yourself alive then do so. Just, please don’t die.”

But prudent telemachus, strong as his love and understanding may be, was for those very same reasons not so swiftly dismissed,

“Mother! Are you mad? What is this? Quick, I shall fetch euryclea to find someone who can cure you- of the poison and this madness!”

But her eyes only softened at the son of ithaca’s exasperated loving fury, “Telemachus, I raised you well, and you inherit the wisdom of your father. I do not believe you don’t understand.”

“I understand very well that grief has broken your mind!” Wily telemachus snapped back with quickness- yet in this haste he had failed to hide the crack in his voice, and the despair that filled it.

“Perhaps it has.” Her voice was slow, solemn, but with a sharp conviction she stood.

The queen of ithaca stood fiercely before young telemachus, though shorter her stature felt taller, and her shaking weakened hands thrusted upon the boy the shroud she has crafted, “If so then it is such that no mad woman shall rule over what the old king Odysseus once cherished and crafted with rugged and torn hands. And so this mad woman shall give one final address, and by her own hand and no others will she die.”

“Mother i say once more I can handle them!”

“If that’s so, perhaps you are no less mad than me. I cannot stop you Telemachus. I do not have your strength, your youth, your energy. All I have now is my name. So with that I will do what i can.”

The boy was short of breath as Penelope of ithaca trodded purposefully down the water soaked floor toward the door, “If you believe trying to battle a hundred angry men in fair battle is all you can do with the gifts you are given- I cannot stop you. But this mad woman- your mother- is not so inclined to agree.”

Left in silence, chilled by rain and winds, the gods spared no mercy to the boy sat on the edge of a revelation- Young telemachus never gave much mind to fate, more concerned with the here and now, yet as he stepped steadily to the door penelope had just strutted out he stopped and began to consider something new- inevitability.

“Oh, mentor, where are you now? If i had the time, or if i perhaps knew sooner, I would consult Old Nestor’s wisdom, or spear-famed menelaus’ will while i could.

Alas, time wasted in regret is worse than passivity. But what am i to do? To simply accept the death of my own mother? Of her kingdom?

Yet her logic was profound, and i must face the truth that it is by now far past late to cure whatever poison she digested.

And I know it true that if she were to die- even if i were to topple those ravenous guests it is likely my injuries would not last my life much longer- Ithaca would be left with no more than dead vengeance, and a broken kingdom for my father.”

His conclusion had been reached, though he still didn’t want to accept the idea of just running; his concentration is broken, however, by a hardly recognized squawk from behind.

Alarmed and on-gaurd telemachus spun around, his eyes locked upon the open window- and rain continued to pitter patter through, singing a different song now however, as it landed too upon not just the room but the bold-eyed hawk that perched upon it’s windowsill.

Telemachus would calm ever so slightly, but his suspicion wasn’t at full rest, “A hawk? Could it be, athena?”

There’s a beat of silence, their eyes remain locked,

“No, athena i don’t believe you would appear before me like this, would you? Or have I truly gone mad finally?”

Telemachus interrogated the blank-faced bird of prey before him, his reservations and already fraught state leaking into his every doubt; yet his guard was quickly thrown off as the bird seemed to move as if… it were laughing?

And as it’s body moved with the silent laugh he noticed the dangling sandals held by the hawks mouth- small feathers on either side adorning the gold-coated footwear.

“Hermes! It must be…” steadily and carefully telemachus walked toward the brown-feathered messenger god; however as soon as he got close the laughing bird would drop those gilded sandals upon the windowsill and take off into the storming sky- unbothered by the perilous divine with it’s strong-feathered quick-footed flight.

Telemachus sprinted to the window sill and nearly slipped out as he barely caught sight as the hawk escaped out of view at shocking but fitting speeds.

Left alone once again telemachus gazed down upon the sandals, no mind paid to the rain beating upon his face as if begging for acknowledgement while he weighed the reality,

“I see then- even Hermes knows it true then. To disobey now would be to draw the ire of both mother and god- if that is so I can no longer allow my childish aspirations blind me.”

With a bit lip, telemachus would grab hold of the cold golden sandals, slipping them steadily upon his stone-calloused feet; it was a miraculous perfect fit- yet no less would be expected of a god’s blessing-

“Yes, this wasn’t just a sign, it was a blessing.”

Yet even as the son of ithaca finally begun to reconcile with the paradoxical duty of abandoning duty- a fire still burnt like a wildfire inside his wide pupils.

“Know this, ithaca,”

Nimble-footed telemachus would perch himself above the windowsill, staring distantly at the storming kingdom,

“This is not abandonment, this is a temporary retreat, and i promise i will return. With men, with power, with the king- and you will either accept and repent, or witness the son of the wisest hero’s full wrath.”

His words were a spiting poison threatening to infect the very rainfall upon this land as with one more preparatory breath- he leaped high through the air.

His feather feet hit the ground and flew with a pitter patter against muddied earth- as wily Telemachus ran past the boundaries of home- leaving nothing but a vow to return.

[witch1nghour]

𝜗𝜚 ⠀𝗕𝗬 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗣𝗥𝗜𝗖𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗢𝗙 𝗠𝗬 𝗧𝗛𝗨𝗠𝗕   ﹔  cartoon villain sentence starters   .  please   like   or reblog   if   you   plan   on   using   .   don’t   claim   as   your   own   .   

long  live  the  king.

I  kinda  like  the  dark.

and  he  shall  smite  the  wicked,  and  plunge  them  into  the  fiery  pit!

arise,  my  messengers  of  death!  our  time  has  arrived!

you  poor  simple  fools.  thinking  you  could  defeat  ME?

i'll  make  him  writhe.  I'll  see  him  wriggle  like  a  worm  on  a  HOOK!

if  you  won't  bow  before  a  sultan,  then  you  will  cower  before  a  sorcerer!

magic  mirror  on  the  wall  -  who's  the  fairest  of  them  all?

now,  I'm  going  to  close  my  eyes  and  count  to  ten,  it  makes  the  chase  more  interesting,  for  me.

if  only  there  was  someone  out  there  who  loved  you.

there`s  no  escape  this  time.

they  called  me  a  fraud,  those....  but  once  I  bring  back  this  creature,  my  name  will  be  cleared. 

beautiful,  isn't  it?  I've  spent  a  lifetime  tracking  it.

and  here  they  come  these  bandits  and  think  the  bird  is  theirs  to  take.  but  they  soon  find  that  this  mountain,  is  a  very  dangerous  place.

tell  your  emperor  to  send  his  strongest  armies!  I'm  ready.

ha!  you  really  should  have  thought  of  that  before  you  became  peasants!

are  you  a  gamblin'  man?

well,  I  see  no  reason  why  you  can't  go...if  you  get  all  your  work  done  and  if  you  find  something  suitable  to  wear.

off  with  their  heads!!

fear ALWAYS works!

it  tore  me  apart,  but  I  finally  learned  an  important  lesson:  you  can't  count  on  anyone,  especially  your  heroes!

you  let  one  stand  up  to  us,  then  they  all  might  stand  up. 

that's  the  last  time  I  lose  to  you.

you  are  no  longer  in  control.  I  am.

the  storm  provides!

they  laughed  at  us,  but  now  it's  our  turn  to  laugh  back. 

after  today,  you  will  never  be  ashamed  of  who  you  are.

you  and  the  dragon  are  coming  with  me.

magic  makes  people  feel  too  powerful…  too  entitled.  It  makes  them  think  they  can  defy  the  will  of  a  king.

both  of  you,  faithless  fools  who  would  dare  to  take  up  arms  against  the  king  of  light  and  shadow...  so  you  choose!  and  so  you  shall  feel  my  wrath!

our  grudge  will  be  settled  at  last!

i  should  have  warned  you,  you  are  alone  here,  you  have  always  been  alone. 

still  here  you  are,  trying  so  desperately  to  save  this  miserable  world  refusing  to  accept  your  true  role. 

i'm  sure  you've  been  told  I  was  the  first  of  our  kind  but  I  assure  you,  there  have  been  many.

your  destiny  is  to  destroy  the  world.

you  may  come  out  when  you  learn  to  be  a  loving  daughter.

i’m  glad  he  sent  you.  i  was  afraid  I'd  been  forgotten. 

and  with  this,  I've  finally  have  the  power  to  destroy  you!

i'll  not  leave  here  empty-handed!

did  you  really  think  you  could  escape?

i  will  finally  be  able  to  return  to  the  mortal  world,  and  this  time...you  won't  be  there  to  stop  me.

you  ever  tried  going  mad  without  power?  It's  boring.  No  one  listens  to  you!

i  will  hunt  you  down  for  all  eternity!  I  swear  I  will  never  rest  until  I  destroy  you  if  its  the  last  thing  I  ever  do!

now  you  know.  knowledge  is  power.  use  it!

it's  nothing  personal.  it's  just  business.

this  was  never  your  city.  it’s  mine.

I  haven't  even  been  a  part  of  your  life,  how  could  I  ruin  it?  I  wasn't  even  there.

time  has  done  nothing  but  made  you  weak.  we  have  our  own  plans

join  me,  and  i  will  show  you  how  to  harness  your  destiny!

you  are  never  going  to  escape  again.

[the-light-finds-its-way]

Savathun and Sauron: a wild comparison

So I am, besides a huge Destiny nerd, a very devoted LOTR fan all the same. And when I was looking at photos tonight of Sauron from the films, I noticed there were a LOT of eerie similarities to their respective designs.

Both of them have a very tall, sort of crowned spike helmet, and the positioning of these spikes is also quite similar to one another, only Savathun's connect with another half ring at the back.

Additionally they also have similar shoulder plating with a somewhat similar shape, and also it's spiked for both. You can see it somewhat better in the next pic.

Even with Sauron doing the powerful hand gesture with his ring, and Savathun doing similar motions to let Immaru hover near her? That strikes some uncanny resemblance to me.

Their overall body language is immensely similar in many ways, the fact that both move in such inhuman patterns that defy nature.

Sauron is a beast of undeath who cannot be killed so easily as long as the One Ring exists.

And Savathun cannot be killed so long as her Worm exists, and or her Ghost.

Adding in the lore of both, Savathun began as Sathona. She and her siblings were promised a great power of immortality by merging with and hosting the Worm Gods. They believed this power was the future of their homeworld Fundament, and the people which were the Krill.

Those Worms were shared with the masses, but any and all who denied them were slaughtered. But merging with and hosting the Worms who granted the Krill power and made them into the Hive?

It corrupted them. It made them monstrous.

Yes it kept Savathun immortal, and her siblings.

But they became monsters of death and murder and destruction.

During this, Sathona became Savathun, but also later achieved many names including The Witch Queen. A liar of pure deceit and manipulation.

Sauron, similarly, was known by many names. He was Annatar, Mairon, Aulendil, many many things.

And he was created as a god of sorts. The Ainur were made by a higher being, but they themselves were immortal, with inhuman power, and considered holy beings in the way gods are seen.

Sauron was a liar all the same. He was called The Sorcerer and The Deceiver and The Dark Lord.

Countless trusted Sauron who held influence through his connection. He promised gifts in the form of the rings which he gave all races. And with the gift of these rings, Sauron promised great power to all who bore them, unity even, to Middle Earth, and yet all they did was tear Middle Earth asunder with war and destruction.

The Dark Lord manipulated, lied, and deceived the races of Middle Earth into trusting him. The Men to whom the 9 rings were granted became undead, mindless servants forever chasing down the One Ring at the behest of Sauron. They had no choice but to follow this pursuit.

They became akin to the Taken. Corrupted husks of their former beings, mindless and relentless in their pursuit of their master and maker, though for the Taken it was Oryx who made them, not Savathun.

But Sauron pulled whatever trickery necessary to achieve his dark goal, even commanding the destruction of Isengard through his servant Saurman.

He held many forms. A vampire. An Elf. A Man.

And Savathun, too, had many forms. She possessed Osiris, pretending to be him. She was a Krill named Sathona. She became the Witch Queen, the goddess of lies and wizardry.

And both served the command of a darkness beyond their own power, and spread that darkness. Sauron's master was Morgoth. Savathun's was the Witness.

But what strikes me most?

Savathun is The Witch Queen.

And Sauron's greatest commander was The Witch King.

So yeah! Food for thought!

[atamascolily]

Sometimes I wish more Madoka Magica fans were familiar with Thunderbolt Fantasy - Gen Urobuchi's wuxia fantasy puppet epic - because he keeps using certain tropes there that I think will also appear in Walpurgis no Kaiten and it's difficult to explain without context. I'll try to keep the TBF discussion to a minimum here, but there's a remark from an interview with Urobuchi about TBF season 4 on the Febri website from February 2025 (English translation by Hibari) that's stuck with me:

Unintentionally, I came back to destiny…the essence of being human. I think that people are people because they are not able to change the past and cannot defy the future, and I always return to this topic when I am writing science fiction. It’s a kind of an ode to humanity.

You see why this is relevant to WnK, right? Homura's wish is to change the past, and she struggles continually because it goes against the way the world works. But the fact that she tries is what makes her human. The heroes in Urobuchi's works are those who fight the inevitable and believe in choice and free will; his villains are nihilists who believe themselves to be enforcers of destiny.

(I don't really want to revive a bunch of discourse here, but while Madoka Magica can be interpreted through a feminist lens, that doesn't automatically mean that Urobuchi himself is a feminist. Rather, as his remarks here attest, I think Urobuchi is fundamentally humanist - which ends up appearing as feminist in Madoka Magica because of the predominantly female cast pitted against a male-coded avatar of an oppressive system. Unfortunately, his shows with mixed gendered casts do not fare so well for the female characters, but that's a discussion for another time.)

Anyway, without going too far into Thunderbolt Fantasy spoilers, in later seasons, there is a demon named Azibelpher - the name is not subtle - who manipulates time to his own advantage. In classic Urobuchi fashion, this comes with horrendously awful unexpected consequences, as the luxurious life he desired essentially destroys him and he spends most of his time lounging around and drinking in ennui. The price of getting what you want is getting what you want, even (especially) for a demon:

It’s the same as how a game becomes boring once you use cheat codes. Because they cannot defy destiny, people are human, they feel happiness and sadness, but if they gain the ability to change destiny however they like, they lose something as a human being, that’s probably the basic idea.

It's hard not to read this passage and not think of Devil Homura slouching on her throne in the WnK trailer. Having complete control over everything and shaping the world according to her desires is not good for her mentally or emotionally on so many levels. Having intentionally embraced the role of a villain, she is unable to stop, and yet in spite of all her power, she has lost something important in the process. This is on top of the fact that she's attempting to defy fate - she is doubly doomed to fail.

Homura has created a perfect world, but one of the recurring themes in Urobuchi's works is that we need to experience both good and bad things in order to be fully human; for better or worse, it is our struggles are what make us who we are. In Madoka Magica, this view is espoused by Madoka in episode 10 when Homura proposes becoming witches and destroying the world; in Madoka's view, the world is worth saving in spite of the pain and suffering and in that scene I think she represents both the show's core beliefs and those of Urobuchi.

As a writer, Urobuchi really loves this kind of dualism and contrast between characters, which is one reason why I think the series will ultimately end with Madoka and Homura balanced as cosmic forces in a world where both joy and sorrow (and magical girls and witches) coexist. If our humanity comes from fighting fate, true maturity also comes from accepting what we cannot change and loving the world as it is in spite of everything (while still holding true to our values and changing what we can).

But back to Urobuchi again:

Science fiction is, in the end, a genre that often leads to the question of how to define being human. When I try to depict that in my way, I don’t try to show “This is the essence of being human” or “This is great about people,” but rather tend to imagine “What are people lacking that makes them human?” In this setting, I often write characters that attain what they are lacking and thereby lose their humanity as villains. That is intentional, to a degree, but also a kind of compulsion, that makes me notice “I wound up coming here again…” (laughs)

What does losing your humanity mean in a post-Rebellion world and what does it look like? My guess is this is where the second Homura comes in - as a splitting of the self that arises as an unintended but inevitable consequence of Homura's actions. (Conveniently, this kind of splitting already exists in the lore and even has its own name - witch - which seems like it might be relevant!)

Having attained what she wanted, Homura becomes her own enemy, literally and metaphorically. Remember, Homura's world is her labyrinth, which is her soul, and the human psyche manifests in all kinds of weird and unpredictable ways inside them (and that's without even touching whatever is going on with Walpurgisnacht, who is also likely tied to Homura in some fashion).

This kind of splitting also appears in Thunderbolt Fantasy with a different character who excises a portion of their soul in order to take over the world. It goes badly, as you might expect, when the expelled soul piece manifests as a doppelganger and returns to destroy them. There is also an overarching time loop that cannot (nor should not) be changed, as it is necessary for the entire story to hold, along with many smaller loops within loops. Sound familiar?

This is not to say that I think WnK will necessarily follow the same trajectory as Thunderbolt Fantasy in all respects, just to say that you can really see Urobuchi playing with the same themes, because that's what authors do - they write about what fascinates them over and over again. This is what Urobuchi is referring to it when he calls it a compulsion - he can't help himself - and as writer, I know exactly what he means. The parallels between his series exist and while it's possible WnK may go in an entirely different direction than anything I've laid out here, the thematic groundwork for the ideas I've laid out is nonetheless visible and it makes me feral.

One way out of the trap Homura has set for herself is to return to her humanity and become whole again (or to use Urobuchi's framing, to give up the perfection, power, and control she sought to achieve). To make her peace with the past and with herself, to accept what happened, and move forward into the future. She has to heal after hitting rock bottom, because the alternative is death. I know which one I'm rooting for.

Homura alone cannot change fate, cannot defeat Walpurgisnacht. But Madoka can. Who knows what will happen if the two of them work together to remake the universe?

[kte-alxxndr]

Voiceless | Threads of Eternity

Tommy Shelby x Reader

The True End

In the tranquil moments that followed, the Shelby family embraced the serenity of their newfound life. The twins, mischief dancing in their eyes, grew up amidst the rhythm of sewing machines and the warmth of a loving home. Y/N, ever the creative soul, found solace in her craft, designing intricate patterns that mirrored the tapestry of their family's journey.

As the Shelby legacy expanded, so did the bonds that tied them together. The twins, each with a unique spark inherited from their parents, ventured into their own paths, leaving imprints of the Shelby resilience in every endeavor.

The echoes of the past, though softened by time, lingered in the Shelby family's collective memory. They bore witness to a love that defied odds, a tale of redemption, and the resilience that defined the Shelby name.

Tommy, now a patriarch with a mantle of wisdom, navigated the challenges of the legitimate world with the same cunning that once ruled the streets of Small Heath. His gaze, however, always returned to Y/N, the woman whose love had transformed the trajectory of his life.In the dimly lit corners of the sewing shop, Y/N continued to weave dreams into reality. Her hands, seasoned by time and marked by the stitches of countless tales, crafted garments that whispered stories of love, loss, and triumph.

The Shelby family, their journey etched into the fabric of time, stood as a testament to the enduring power of love. As the sun set on Small Heath, casting golden hues upon the cobbled streets, the Shelby's found comfort in the threads of eternity that bound them together.

And so, in the tapestry of life, the Shelby saga continued – a tale woven with threads of resilience, love, and the indomitable spirit that defined the legacy of the Peaky Blinders.

Voiceless: Threads of Eternity Masterlist

A glimpse of Y/N and Tommy's earlier life.

A Chance Encounter

Woven Destinies

Faded Unwoven Threads

The Entwined Threads of Destiny

The True and Final End: A Shelby Tale

Voiceless Masterlist | Previous Chapter

[violetduchess]

Muzan with a horrifically scarred reader? the reader's parents were overbearing, cruel and uncaring to reader, and when they put reader in a arranged marriage with Muzan for profit, reader tries to stand up for themselves... but ends up getting acid thrown in their face and body, making them wear a mask & long clothes to hide the permanent scars. Muzan doesn't know the treatment reader was given until reader fesses up when they first talk alone.

Scars to your Beautiful

Character: Muzan x reader

CW: angst, mentioned abuse, terrible parents, arranged marriage?

Note: I'm sorry it took so longs for me to get to this

In a world consumed by darkness and the allure of power, you, the reader, bore the visible remnants of a painful past. Your body, once unblemished, now carried scars that told a story of survival and strength. The world had not been kind to you, but you refused to let it define you.

You were born into a family plagued by cruelty and indifference. Your parents, driven solely by profit and social status, had arranged a marriage between you and Muzan. Their motives were selfish, for they sought to exploit Muzan's power for their own gain. You were nothing more than a pawn in their game.

But you, brave and determined, refused to succumb to their plans. You stood up for yourself, ready to defy their expectations and claim your own destiny. However, your defiance only fueled their anger. In a fit of rage and desperation, they resorted to an unspeakable act.

Acid was thrown upon your delicate flesh, searing your body and leaving behind permanent scars. The pain was excruciating, both physically and emotionally. Your once flawless visage was marred, and you became a prisoner of your own disfigurement.

As fate would have it, you found yourself face to face with Muzan. Trembling with both fear and vulnerability, you hesitated to reveal the truth of your past. Would he see you as damaged, tainted by your scars? Would he turn away in disgust?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the dimly lit chamber of Muzan's grand estate, you stood before him, your body concealed beneath layers of clothing and a mask shielding your face. Deep scars marred your once smooth skin, a painful reminder of the cruelty you had endured in your past. Your heart raced as you gathered the courage to reveal your truth.

"Muzan," you began, your voice quivering with a mix of anxiety and vulnerability. "There is something I need to tell you."

Muzan, who had always exuded an air of power and control, looked at you with curiosity and a hint of concern in his eyes. "What is it?" he asked, his voice a low, commanding rumble.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for his reaction. "These scars," you gestured to your covered body, "they are not the result of some accident. They were deliberately inflicted upon me."

Confusion flickered across Muzan's face, followed by a flicker of anger. "Who did this to you?" he growled, his voice laced with a cold fury.

"It was my own parents," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "They were cruel, controlling, and saw me only as a tool for their profit. When I tried to stand up for myself, they threw acid at me, leaving me scarred for life."

Muzan's expression darkened, a storm brewing within his gaze. His fists clenched, betraying his simmering anger. "They dared touch what's mine?" he seethed, his voice laced with venom. He looked seconds away from finding them and ripping them to shreds.

You took a step forward, placing a hand on his arm to calm his rising rage. "It's in the past now," you assured him, your voice filled with a mix of resignation and determination. "But I wanted you to know the truth because...because I trust you."

Muzan's gaze softened as he looked down at you, his anger slowly subsiding. His eyes seemed to contemplate something, as if weighing the possibilities. A silence hung between you, thick with anticipation, as he processed your words.

After a moment, Muzan's expression changed, and he wore a thoughtful look. His features softened, revealing a surprising vulnerability. "You trust me," he echoed, his voice barely above a whisper with a slight edge of dark amusement. "Despite all I've done, you still trust me?"

You nodded, meeting his gaze with unwavering resolve. "I do," you affirmed, your voice filled with sincerity.

A mixture of emotions flickered across Muzan's face, an internal battle raging within him. Finally, he exhaled deeply, his shoulders relaxing as he made his decision. "Then, if you truly trust me, I offer you a choice," he said, his voice tinged with both certainty and determination. "You have the chance to become a demon, to gain immortality and power beyond human comprehension."

Your eyes widened, surprised by the unexpected offer. Becoming a demon was not a decision to be taken lightly, but it held the allure of leaving your painful past behind.

You took a moment to consider his words, weighing the risks and rewards that came with accepting his offer. The scars of your past had shaped you, but now, you had the chance to embrace a new existence, alongside the one who understood and cared for you.

"I accept your offer."

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