#angony

[staralex20]

undefined

Kannazuki no Miko x Voltron

[beehuts]

hhhh of course I decide I want to transition the time of year when money is tightest for me

[wigglepiggle]

I have to be more insane. I have to get more NORMAL!!!! I HAVE TO GET MORE INSANE!!!! I

[fonkeloog]

Honey

Honey honey, how he thrills me, a-ha, honey honey

Honey honey, nearly kills me, a-ha, honey honey

 The music fills the room as soon as Remus opens the door, and he can’t help the grin from forming on his face. He’s fairly sure the sight he’ll see when he enters the living, and although he keeps insisting he hates ABBA, everyone knows it’s the biggest lie he’s ever told.

 Sure enough, Sirius is standing in the middle of the room. He’s holding Teddy in his arms, slowly swaying to the music coming from the record player. The little baby keeps switching his hair colour from black to brown and Sirius can hardly look away. The smile on his face reveals he’s very aware of the presence of his husband. The two of them so attuned to one another that it’s hard to keep anything from the other.

 Remus softly enters the room and wraps his arms around his husband, keeping his movements as light as possible so he won’t wake their sleeping song.

 I know just who you are

(I know just who you are)

Honey, to say the least, you're a dog-gone beast

@wolfstarmicrofic prompt: Honey

[dawntheduckrb]

"This one won't take nearly as long" they said (it took twice as long 😋) (they hate bricks even more now)

All that's left is to paint it, in the endgame now B)

[cupcakes-and-pain]

So here's the thing... shortly after we left off from Riley's story he had a mixup with a girl and long story short, he's in desperate need of a babysitter 😕 turns out they don't really teach the birds and bees to the pets in the state home and Eddie never thought he'd have to either.

***

"Ollie, You remember Collette? She's almost three now if can you believe it." Riley readjusts the toddler propped on his hip and shrugs the diaper bag higher with his opposite shoulder. It looks sort of heavy so Ollie takes it from him, knowing that Riley still gets sore from the incident in his past, and invites him in.

"H-hi Coco," he waves to the cherub faced girl, "it's okay, I don't think she'll remeber m-"

"Lollie!" Coco lisps, bouncing at her poppas side with excitement, "Poppa! Lollie!"

***

Rileys gotta go but he'll be back pretty soon, Charles won't mind right? It's a big enough house and he trusts Ollie with his most prized possession 🥰 what could POSSUBLY go wrong??

Yeah, haha, no clue if anything CAN go wrong. Nah, everything will be happy and peachy today :D (sarcastic) (it can and will go wrong) (Ollie is in danger) (I will hurt the boys) (no one can stop me)

- - -

Ollie’s heart melts when the little girl not only recognizes him, but is excited to see him! His small, polite smile widens into a joyful grin. He leads father and daughter into the living room.

Master Charles wasn’t there right then, having ran downstairs last minute to talk to his secretaries. Ollie knew the real reason. Although Master Charles definitely did not hate children, he wasn’t particularly fond. Especially babies and toddlers. Whenever Coco came over or Ollie went to see her, Master would fuss over the details and make sure he had enough stock to feed ten babies (while also consistently underestimating how many diapers she’ll need), despite Riley packing a diaper bag. But after trying to ensure that anything that Coco might need is provided for, Master Charles is quick to leave and interact with small human as little as possible.

But all of that was okay. Today would be fun! Ollie was responsible, he didn’t need Master or Riley to watch over him. He was a good babysitter! It was fine.

He took a couple deep breaths to soothe his never-ending anxiety, and set the bag down. After a few proper greetings and reminders were exchanged, Ollie took the toddler from him and waved goodbye to Riley.

Walking to the dining room, Ollie sat Coco down and pulled out some crayons Riley had mentioned. He didn’t have any paper besides a little notepad he knew was in the junk drawer, and even then he felt guilty about taking that. What if Master Charles needs it? What if Ollie was being greedy and annoying?

But no. No! It’d be fine. And even if it wasn’t, if this was the last straw… he could take it. He knew it wasn’t good to ever assume anything about how an owner would react, but he felt safe thinking that Charles wouldn’t toss him out for this. Hurt him, maybe. Strip him off all of his undeserved care and privileges, sure. But Ollie would be okay in the end.

He had to be careful at first to make sure Coco drew on the paper and not the table, but she seemed to get it. On the paper, not anything else.

“Oh, that’s very pretty, Coco!”

“Pitty? Pitty! Pitty, pitty.” Coco babbled to herself as she drew, unable to pronounce the “r” in pretty. Each time she stopped to show him, he smiled and assured her it was still pretty.

Of course, no art could ever compare in beauty and talent to his Master’s. His wonderful Master, who can only create art so marvelous it is worthy of being preserved in a museum for centuries. But Coco didn’t need to hear that right now. She was only three. It would be mean to compare her to the best artist there ever was.

After a while, her stomach growled and she pouted.

“Oh! Of course. I’ll got get us some snacks. Stay here, and remember! Only on the paper. Can you say paper?”

“Papey.”

Close enough. He patted her head and headed to the kitchen, humming to a song he heard Master play when he was in a very good mood .

Master Charles kept fruit in a bowl on the counter, and a bag of berries in the fridge. Those were free for Ollie to take, and so he pulled some out and started cutting them up for they’d be perfect for a little toddler. One can never be too safe. And he had to be very careful with knives, but it was okay. Everything was okay today, because Coco was here. Master didn’t like children very much, but he trusted Ollie. Ollie was very responsible. This will be fun! And Riley will be back soon.

Sighing, Ollie continued his cheerful humming and picked up the nearly cut slices and arranged them beautifully on the plate. His own art in a special way.

The delicate arrangements didn’t end up mattering, because he dropped the plate in shock when he turned around to where they were sitting earlier.

Coco was gone.

Panicking, he didn’t even clean up his mess. She was gone, completely gone. Master’s home was very open, so he could see all of the kitchen, dining room, entry way, living room, and down into the halls where the bedrooms and stuff were. He could even see into the bathroom and part of his room, since the doors were open.

And no little girl in sight.

Running down the hall, and threw every door open and called out for her, eyes scanning each room rapidly as he lightly searched and then moved on. His heart was beating out of his chest and his head was alight with terror. Where could she have gone so quickly? He feared that he had already missed her, that she was hiding much better than he gave her credit for and that he would be able to find her at all.

Riley would be furious, he trusted Ollie, his friend, to watch his daughter. And now she was gone. Never mind what Master will say. A baby loose in his house is asking for disaster.

Oh god, Ollie was in so much trouble.

It wasn’t until he got to four rooms in that he found her. The door was open just a crack, and he could hear his giggles and babbling coming from inside.

She was in his Master’s studio.

He rushed in, filled with relief that she was found, though it wasn’t without apprehension that it was the studio. But it’d be fine! It’d be-

“Lollie, papey!”

Ollie registered what he was looking at. She hadn’t drawn, she finger painted. And that wasn’t paper.

That was the canvas that held Master’s newest painting, which he had finished today and it was not at all dry yet. Especially not the newest addition: bright green baby handprints pressed and smeared onto the bottom of the picture.

As his terror rushed back with full force and gave way to cold, unyielding, undeniable terror, he didn’t even registered the little girl trying to ask if he thought it was pretty, much less his owner’s footsteps right behind him.

- - -

Oh dear! That’s not good!! 😈😈

Also, recreation featuring this picrew here (the artist said it was okay to edit as long as you don’t do anything “morally unjust”. I hope this is okay!)

[Image ID:

A picture of Ollie sitting or laying curled up. He’s bottom is not in the picture. Ollie has fair skin, green eyes, and light brown hair long enough to border on the edge of shaggy as it hangs past his ears and into his eyes. He looks towards the viewer with a worried yet resign expression. He is naked except for bloody bandages across his chest, around his neck, and around his arm. He also has some scrapes on his upper back and arm. His knees are bruised.

The background of the picture is mostly white, but they’re are shadows around him as is he’s lying on sheets or a bed of some kind that dips under his weight.

This picture is surrounded by a gold picture frame that was clearly not originally apart of the picture, as it’s drawn with less detail and zero shading.

At the bottom, slightly obscuring the bandages on his arms, there are two tiny bright green handprints. One has been smeared, as if the person doing it dragged their hand along the canvas instead of simply pressing down. There are also three stripes of the same green to the right of the handprints.

End of ID]

[z0mbies]

FUCK I NEED TO UPDATE MY AGE EVERYWHERE THATS RIGHT. IM 21 NOW

[incorrectthots]

Guess who's fucking basketball team got knocked out of the finals. I love getting reminded twice a year of why I hate the playoffs and now I can't see either of my beloved teams til around October.

[animationismycomfort]

I HAVE MADE THE BROZ PARENTS THEY HAVE ME IN A CHOKEHOLD HELP

[runwayblues]

in light of recently acquired information i WILL be checking myself in for a grippy sock vacation

[hip-hoppin-hobbits]

I have a crush and I fucking hate it!!! This is horrible it sucks so much I don't want this slap me please!

[chakkka]

dante not changing and continuing to hurt the people he loves not because he does not want to change, but because he does not believe he is capable of change.

he believes that he is a monster. someone who brings pain and anguish with him wherever he goes. and that no matter what he does that pain and anguish will eventually reach the people he loves. and by believing that he perpetuates the cycle he’s doomed himself to.

dante pushing people away because he believes that he is unloveable. following orders and the rules ingrained in him by the people manipulating him because he does not think he is capable of anything more.

[perpetual-adoration]

Title: Unknown (Triptych 3)

Artist: Bernedette Carstensen

Website:

[queer-pagan-witch]

Bliss is not being able to think ceitically for a moment.

[zwolfgames]

Yandere Draco Malfoy x reader (Part 3)

Requested by: /

Warnings: Talks of murder, unlogical magic use, abuse of spells, violence and yandere stuff.

Parts: Part 1 , Part 2

And it was ass-

Draco woke up early to do his hair, insisting that he'd do yours aswell. And no, you were never as high end as him, so getting all these forgein products put into your hair wasn't pleasant.

He began choosing your weekend outfits. Styled your school robes when he didn't approve of how ruffled they were, he even went as far as to push you into the bathroom to shower when he found you too greasy. By wich you mean everyday....

You hadn't expected the blonde to be such a control freak, but he was. Okay, maybe you should have... 

Currently, you were simply walking down a secluded hall.. again, when the statue next to you and Draco let its axe drop.

You weren't fast enough to completly save your most controlling friend, tough you did pull him into you out of reflex. A bleeding cut was created on his left arm... but it was better then getting an axe trough your head, you suppose.

Draco screams out in angony and you wince as the sound hurt your ears.

You drag the fool with you to the infirmairy while he's crying out in pain, hoping you get there before he passes out because in no way are you strong enough to carry this lanky kid.

You grit your teeth as you think back to the now thrid attempt at Draco's life. What student even has the balls to attempt this even once? And how had the teachers not caught them?

And why is Harry Potter staring at you and Draco from behind a corne-

What.

You whip your head around to face the chosen one who freezes as he's caught.

"I can explain-" He stutters out with his hands up to show his innocence.

"Did you try to kill him?" You ask simply while Draco's just screaming.

"No-"

"Okay." You turn back around and keep walking, you had bigger problems then Potter's questions right now.

"What? No wait-" He runs after you as you keep walking.

You don't really react as you keep dragging Draco away to the infirmairy.

Mrs.Pomfrey gasps in shock as you bring Draco in, she immeadiatly gets to work and you can finally drop the screaming blonde onto a bed, tough he's mostly just crying now.

Draco demands that you hold his other hand while Pomfery heals his arm.

So you suck up your free will and sit next to his bedside to hold his hand.

Harry hasn't left... Just stares at the scene in confusion.

"Why are you friends with Malfoy?" The dark haired boy asks.

You eye him for a moment, as you've never talked before.

"I'm not." You shrug and Draco almost snarls.

".. You are." The blonde croaks out in pain, just to correct you.

You roll your eyes and Harry's frown tightens.

"Do you have any clue's on who's trying to kill him?" Harry asks, as if the target isn't right by you two.

"A student, thats all I know. And if you're going to be asking questions atleast make it less obvious that you're interogating us." You scoff and the boy bites his lip, pushing his glasses back up.

"I want to help-" 

"Yourself. We know." 

You finish for him and he looks baffled.

"Thats not what I was going to say." Harry frowns more, fidgeting with his sleeves.

"But it was what you meant. It's a student, thats all I know. Now shoo because the more I talk to you the harder this git squishes my hand." You side glare at Draco who is currently glaring at Harry.

"Then let go of him. He'll be fine on his own, come help us search." Harry suggests a bit calmly now.

Wow, you've never tought of just letting go- Ofcourse you had! Draco just had a deathgrip on your hand.

"This doesn't concern you, Potter." You shake your head. Harry steps closer to look you in the eye.

"No, it does concern me. Nothing at this school ever happens without Voldemort being behind it, it has to be some kind of elaborate plan to get the schools defences down." Harry tries to convince you.

"Ah yes, killing Lucius' son is gonna bring all of Hogwarts down! The worst it's gonna do is have Draco's dad sue the school or something." You explain.

"You know his father?" Harry asks in disbelief. "Well not personally, why?" You ask in confusion, eyebrows scrunching together.

"He's evil." Harry whispers as if he isn't being glared at by the blonde.

"Yea so? Thats not my problem?" You shrug again and ignore the pulling on your hand from a clearly annoyed Slytherin.

"What? That... Y/N, just help us, you're with Draco all the time, and you've saved him too. We can solve this together." Harry starts again with his proposal.

"No, Potter, let the teachers solve things for once, go study or something. And why do you know my name?" You narrow your (e/c) eyes.

Harry stiffens. From what you've heard of Draco's shittalking, he's quite the stalker. Tough you'd never expected to be a victim of it.

"Don't worry about it, you're well known-"

"I'm not."

"You're friends with a Malfoy."

"I'm not." You repeat again.

"..You are.." Draco buts in again.

You sigh at the absurdity of this all. Harry wanted that thrill of mystery. Draco wanted a friend he could control and you just wanted to pass this year.

Very diffrent wants and needs. Not compatible.

So you'd ditch them both.

Easy as that.

When Draco was allowed out of the infirmairy you helped him back up to your shared room and ran off as fast as you could.

Two goals in mind, catch the mystery person and avoid everyone else.

So, out of pure desperation, you stole a polyjuice potion from proffesor Snape's supply. How, you may ask. You snuk a letter up under the door of his office that said he was needed by Dumbledore in terms of his potions career. It couldn't be too obvious, but it seems you had nailed it.

So without furder ado, you threw a hair of your blonde 'friend' into the potion. You had snatched a Slytherin tie from his closet. Quite an idiotic descicion to let you live in his dorm...

Oh well. You were transformed in a matter of minutes, tried to adjust the now blonde hair back to how neat Draco usually had it and set off to go find the most secluded and dark places off the castle.

If they wanted Draco malfoy dead, then they'd have to try harder.

It didn't take long before you felt watched. But you had to keep the cocky air up around you. Chin up, back straight. 

And bam! A spell again! Right past your face from behind. Since you weren't actually Draco, you had been on guard. And this time this sucker wasn't getting away.

You chugged down a speed potion, accio-ing your broom as you ran after the person. Draco's height aided your sprint, tough you hoped the polyjuice potion didn't affect your own pyshical abilities because you doubt that Draco could hold up running as long as you.

Your broom flew into your hand not long after, stealing tricks from Potter wasn't a bad idea as long as no-one saw it!

You didn't even sit on the long stick, no time for that. You just let it drag you along as it flew. You didn't know brooms could even work like that, but your will power was enough for it to do so.

You pushed off against walls as you followed this person into the darker parts of the castle. Deeper into the dungeons. They must have realised long ago that you weren't Draco, or they'd have tried something to hurt you.

Glidinf off of stairs, ignoring the harsh thuds you made against walls and the layers of skin under your pants that were getting torn up by your landing and frantic turns and collisons.

It could all be fixed. As long as you finally caught this damm person it would all be worth it.

With a last jump you caught onto the persons black hood, togging it off and holding in to keep them in your grip.

A feminine yelp left the wrongdoer's mouth as you threw her onto the ground. Letting your broom fly out of your hands so you could pull out you wand, aimed right at her neck.

A....

A child....

First year, maybe.... second year?

You didn't know. But you eyes widened at the sight of this... scared girl.

 But now's not the time to be weak, who knows, maybe she took a polyjuice potion too to get the wrong person jailed.

"Explain, right now." You demand in a snarl. It must have looked a lot more intimidating considering you had Draco's face at the moment... It was strange hearing his voice say your words...

"I-I only want him dead!" The girl shouts out. You stiffen and tug her up by the hair.

"And why?" You narrow your now grey eyed gaze. Glaring harshly.

"His father ruined my family! Why are you helping him!?" The girl sobbed. You weren't sure what to do...

Let a kid kill Draco or just turn her in...

You couldn't let her roam free and try again. If Draco actually died you'd be suspicious too.... And intergogated. Truth serum and bam, they had you as the one that let the murderer get away.

Is that a selfish tought?

Are you allowed to think that way?

"I'm helping him because I'm not letting someone die, Malfoy or not." You bite back.

"Thats stupid, he's using you! Let me go!" The girl tries to kick you, a quick 'Stupefy' to the face knocks her right out.

No, you made your desciscion, better safe then sorry. You'd just... deliver her to Dumbledore... Thats better then.. Snape? Better then McGonnagall? Atleast punishment wise. Maybe.. they'd just send her to therapy?

Yea.. lets believe in that...

You carried the girl out of the dungeons. Exhausted by the end of the stairs. If only you knew a spell to make bodies float, too bad thats a Potter exclusive.

After some breaks and huffs, you got to Dumbledore's way too high up office.

Trying to make the walls open or whatever, you hadn't ever been here before...

And you still looked like Draco...

Oh this day couldn't get any worse.

You managed to open the gateway, dropped the kid on a chair at Dumbledore's office and looked him in the eye.

"Malfoy, what brings you and Delaine here?" Dumbledore inquires calmly.

"It's L/N, sir. This is the girl thats been trying to kill Malfoy, excuse my looks..." You sigh and run a hand trough your- Draco's hair. Too much gel for your liking...

"L/N? I see. And how did you aquire a polyjuice potion?" Dumbledore asked with an amused smile.

He didn't look mad but you were'nt going to risk it.

"Lucius Malfoy aided me and Draco in our plan, sir." You lied spontaniously. The old man didn't seem to question it and just nodded.

....

"She isn't going to.. Azkaban, right?" You ask in a whisper.

"No... Miss Delaine hasn't killed anyone... yet. She'll be undergoing a trial. I'll be sure to give your house twenty points for your heroic behavior. You like it on the down low, don't you?" Dumbledore smiles.

You stiffen at his sudden.. correct assumption.

You tought he knew lots, but to know personal things about you? Some random student? Weirdo...

What's he? All seeing?

"You're dismissed, L/N. Be sure to visit the imfirmairy, you look quite rustled." Dumbledore advised and opens the gateway for you again.

You nod and walk out.

Only when the door closes again does your calm expression twist into guilt...

You just ruined some girls life... Not as bad as going to Azkaban... but you defenitly fucked it up..

But.. but it would have been worse for her if she had actually killed Draco. You keep repeating that all the way to the infirmairy.

Why did it have to be some kid?

You weren't sure wether to tell Draco the morning after.

You had come back to the dorm, no strange onlookers glared at you now that you looked liked Draco.

Tough you watched in the mirror as the potions' effects wore off. As the blonde melted back into (h/c) and your body became your own again.

All while you saw the person you were sleeping behind you.

He wasn't even tucked in correctly...

So you did that first... then went to bed yourself.

And now here you were, with Draco gushing over how amazing you looked with the Slytherin tie and how you should steal his clothes more often.

You refrained from looking angry since he didn't need to know all about your reasons for it.

A shame you forgot to change before going to sleep...

He made you wear that tie for the whole day.

It was like a claim.

You weren't sure how you felt about this whole 'friendship' anymore now that the murder problem had been resolved...

Maybe you'd just stick around untill one of the teachers officially announces that the case was solved.

You just wanted your old friends back, your old roomates...

But luck was never on your side.

Not a week after, it had been revealed, wich seemed good. You weren't mentioned, just like Dumbledore knew you wanted.

But oh boy. Someone else knew.

Lucius Malfoy.

The man himself came to visit Hogwarts and singled you and Draco out after dinner.

Exposing your heroic deeds and making Draco like you even more.

he assumed you cared about him to do all this. You just had the basic human decency to not let someone die.

Thats all there was to it.

Atleast on your side.

After Lucius' visit, Draco didn't let you leave him like you had planned.

And you were finally fed up.

Packing your stuff, you'd just move back to your dorm without asking.

"What do you think you're doing?" Draco stood in the doorway. Closing the door behind him as he walked in.

"Moving back. The murder is solved." You state calmly, trying not to provoke anything in the blonde.

"Y/N, you can't do that." He shakes his head and opens your wardrobe again to put your clothes back.

"I can. I've helped you, it's over now." You refuse and put the clothes back in your suitcase.

Draco's face twists into a frown as he comes closer.

"We're not over."

"That isn't what I said-"

"You're mine, Y/n."

Draco announces so directly you needed a moment for the shock to pass so that that cringe feeling could swarm over you.

"Excuse me?" You ask in offence.

"You're mine. In everyway a person could be mine." Draco elaborates, it isn't making his words any better."

"You're sounding absurd." You facepalm but your wrist gets snatched and pulled to his chest.

"You don't understand. I want you in every way there is to want. You're my soulmate. Platonically, Romantically- whatever ally there is. You're the first true friend I've had. You're mine." Draco grins slightly... pshycotically.

Sure mental problems are allowed but keep them to yourself, jeez.

"Did someone make you chug a love potion? Go sober up in the corner and then we'll talk." You keep your cool. Even if you're freaking out on the inside. He isn't acting normal. This has to be a potion of somekind.

Surely it is.

"My father has already agreed that I can court you, Y/N. Don't you see how good this could be for you.?" Draco smiles, trying to convince you of his ultimate love.

You cringe and try to back away, but the blonde just backs you up more into the wardrobe.

"Don't fight our bond." Draco whispers rather creepily.

You'd rather fight both the bond and him if you could choose.

But the moment that you did, or well, attempted to punch him, you were out like a light.

Just like that girl you caught, Draco had 'stupefied' you too.

Knocked out cold for him to gush over.

He just needed a friend that wouldn't leave him.

A friend that wasn't fake.

And you were perfect, seeing as you had no trouble insulting him.

So you were his.

You'd stay his.

You had chosen wrong.

_____☆_____

Kinda lame ending, I know.

But I mean, good enough for a long ass one shot like this. Coudln't let it get too long.

Requests are always open. This is also on Wattpad (its one whole chapter there), and request can be done there too! Whatever you prefer!

have a nice day/night <3

_____☆_____

Words: 5210 (If you read all three parts)

taglist: @maggiecc

[ror-witch]

Fear

A Weira drabble revolving around the birth of Phobos. Trigger warnings for childbirth, near infant loss, blood, and a canon accurate unhappy ending.

When the doctors tell Queen Weira she is expecting the heir to her throne. She is not surprised, nervous, but not surprised.

It was what she was made for, after all. To rule, and to provide her people with the next ruler. She has known this since she has known anything. She is Queen, her mother was Queen before her and her daughter will be the next Queen. A line unbroken since Leryn.

What she does not know, is what comes next. Everyone she knows tells her what joy will blossom in her heart as the baby grows inside her. She will glow, and not just with the Light of Meridian. It will be a beautiful timing.

But Weira calls them all liars.

(In her head, of course, for a Queen would never do that aloud.)

For in truth, everyday is a new misery. Her stomach revolts and empties without fail every morning, and sometimes afternoons, evenings as well, and despite assurances that this will eventually stop, it does not. Her limbs weaken, struggling under the growing weight she carries. Random bursts of pain strike in her muscles like lighting, and her hips ache everytime she moves, enough even when she takes to bed at night it brings her no relief.

And, of course, these miseries compile under the burden of Queenship. Because, even now, her precious daughter is not—can not be paramount. Meridian is. Her duties can not stop, no, can not even slow down, lest her world fall to ruin without her guiding Light.

Even as her belly swells with life, she is a Queen first.

Mother second.

But through it all, she never complains (well, again, never aloud). It’s what she is made for, after all, she tells herself.

She’s lost count of how many times she’s told herself that.

But in her darkest moment, she breaks with the line of Queens and whispers, “I hope you never have to go through this, little one.” Then she balks at her words, ashamed, wishing to snatch them back.

It’s what they are both made for. Her and daughter.

Her daughter. The Princess. The future Queen of Meridian. Duty comes before all. They must remember that.

Well, they were right about one thing. Through all the angony, one thing keeps her going. The thought that soon she will hold this little one, and she will gaze up at her green eyes just like her own. That is how she imagines her anyway, for her daughter never has Zaden’s lilac blue eyes in her dreams, only her own.

She often talks to her at night, when the world is quiet. And for a moment, a brief, private moment of weakness, she is not a Queen but just a mother. She tells her daughter that she hopes she finds love, not just a political match. She tells her she knows she will be a natural with her magic, not like her mother, she jokes. How beautiful she will be, the most beautiful.

Her little Princess.

She loves her more than anything already. Even though she knows she should not.

As the term draws to an end, she struggles on a name. Zaden and the Council provide their opinions, strong names, soft names, historical names, but none feels right.

They decide to wait, to see her face and gift her with a name that will suit her.

And the days grow closer to that day when Weira shall finally look upon her daughter's face. Until, one day, a day without remark save for the painful twisting of her womb and a small gush of water, she begins her arrival.

Labor, the Queen finds, is also not how it was described to her. There is pain, yes, undeniable, indescribable pain, but there is something…more bearable in it than the rest of the pregnancy. Perhaps it is simply because the end is finally in sight. They say many find resolve at the end of a marathon and so it is with her. The worst part is quite honestly all the attendants flustering about in a panic. Weira can not abide such hysteria under ideal circumstances, and now she finds it nigh unbearable. If she possessed any clue of what she was doing without them, she would have sent them away.

Indeed, when the time comes to bear down and push, a time when, at least so she was told, many women lose their nerve, Weira feels like she is finally handed back the reins of this pregnancy.

And then the horse reared.

Her daughter arrives with one long, hard, final push. The world spins and fills with a hazy light. The relief she feels is borderline delirium, stronger than anything she has felt to this point.

Then another even stronger, more primal urge rocks her.

Where is my baby?

There is nothing but silence in the air.

She anxiously pushes aside her bangs, sticky with sweat, to look past her. The attendants are huddled around their leader, who holds a small, unmoving bundle.

The terror she feels at the sight manifests as a crack in the air, and a rumble of thunder on an otherwise sunny day.

“What is wrong with her?”

Her voice breaks and trembles as it has never done before. Zaden grabs her shoulders for support, but she does not even realize he’s there. There is silence for an unbearable moment and then the one holding her baby seems to find her words.

“The babe is fine, Your Majesty, it is only…”

The lead attendant wets her lips, but does not bother delay, fearing the Queen's magic will act without intention once more.

“The babe is a boy, your Majesty.”

Her husband gasps. The other attendants look at the ground, ashamed for her.

Weira doesn’t feel any surprise, any shame—just that need. The need to hold that which is being withheld from her.

There in the birthing bed she is a mother; not a Queen.

Her first mistake.

“Just give me my baby!” She snarls, her magic snaps again and the baby is all but tossed into her arms.

She—he, lands with a soft plop, still silent, but awake. Beautifully awake. He looks up at her with green eyes exactly like her own. Tiny and perfect and more wonderful than anything in the entire universe. She is his everything, and he is hers. And in that moment, that single breath, everything is perfect and right. Gender be damned. Everything else be damned.

Then the moment was broken.

Again, the baby is snatched from her, and before she can even demand an explanation or protest, there is a sea of red flooding out from her.

She doesn’t remember much about what happens after. It takes a few hours before she comes back. She remembers bits and pieces—pain, crying, and blood.

So much blood.

But she is alive, and that is all that matters.

Until it isn’t.

The hemorrhage leaves her weak, drained. She can barely lift her arms, she feels like she’s fighting against tar just to lift her head. She holds out her shaking arms for her precious baby but her attendants share uneasy looks. She orders them to give him to her anyway.

He feels as heavy as brick now, almost too heavy. She struggles to hold him. But he just stares up at her with those beautiful green eyes and she somehow finds the strength. If only for a few moments at a time. The rest of the time he sits in his bassinet next to her, quietly watching her. Only when Zaden finally dares to hold him does he squirm and fuss, and Weira shrieks at her trembling husband to return him to her at once.

The attendant’s note her weakness, and they, more experienced than her, offer solutions.

And Weira hates them for it.

“Perhaps we might find a wet nurse for the…Prince, your Majesty?”

“No!” Weira all but snarls; as feral as the Beasts that still haunt her land. The Light of Meridian does not pawn off her child to another. She is all nourishing, all giving—life itself, as her mother told her.

Only her body has not received that message. It’s weak and selfish, too busy making blood to restore her, rather than milk to feed her baby. He tries, he’s good—so good, and he tries and tries, quietly and gently for nearly a day of her own stubbornness until his body betrays him too and the hunger cries start.

And then they never stop.

Guilt gnawing at her raw bones, Weira finally hands him over. The wet nurse comes, and while disappointment still hangs heavy, she tries to ignore it, for at least her beloved baby will eat now. That is far more important than her pride.

But he doesn’t.

His hunger cries change into full throated cries of terror, as the wet nurse picks him up, and he scratches at her breast with his tiny little fingers and pushes away, refusing her.

This goes on for an entire day.

Zaden, who she would never have considered unkind or obtuse until that moment, says, without thought,

“It seems he just wants you, my love.”

She screams at him till they are both pale in the face, and tears are falling from their eyes.

When they set him back in her arms, the crying only lessens. He is starving and Weira can not help him. She who sustains an entire world can not provide for her own blood. Her beloved boy who looks up at her with tear filled eyes and soft cries and wonders why his world is not giving him what he needs.

The Council comes later that same day, as is tradition, unaware of the developments, to wish her congratulations on the birth of the Princess.

Their congratulations die on their lips when the truth is revealed.

There has never been a first-born Prince until now. Whether through some nefarious design or a magic she simply did not know, every first child born of the reigning Queen has been a girl. Until her.

She has broken the line of Queens.

And it is all anyone cares about.

Not her baby who cries are starting to quiet, the red gone from his cheeks, tears are no longer being produced in his eyes.

He’s dying.

Her baby is dying.

That is all Weira cares about.

The Council, Zaden, and her attendants try to comfort her in the only way they know how.

“Perhaps, it is for the best, your Majesty. This baby, after all, is no Princess.”

“We can try again, my love.”

“A baby that will die of stubbornness like that would never thrive, your Majesty. Best we worry about you for now.”

They want to take him away, so she does not have to see what comes next. Weira panics, and buries her face into his tiny body. Will they slit his throat to ease his passing? Bludgeon his head like a rabbit? Smother him? Or will they let him suffer alone and scared, wanting only to feel the warmth of the mother who has failed him till blackness takes him?

When come to take him, she refuses, and they protest,

but she is still Queen, and her word is law.

The baby stays.

Everyone else leaves.

Weira has a plan. It is not a good plan. But she doesn’t care.

Her studies have told her that certain magic can sustain a person more than any food. The lifeblood blood of a planet or a person, or…a heart. Like the Light of Meridian. The birthright that would’ve been his had he been born a female. To allow a male child to interact with the holy magic of the Escanor line is forbidden. The consequences are unknown—but probably not good. Forbidden things are forbidden for a reason.

Weira doesn’t care.

The Weira of two days ago would be aghast with her for even thinking of it. But the Weira who has seized her now only cares about one thing.

He feels like a corpse already in her shaking arms, cold, unmoving, small—so small. Only his eyes, watching her intently give any sign of life.

She pushes aside his swaddle and presses her hand against his tiny chest, his heart beating faintly under palm.

How much, she wonders. She has the power of a sun churning in her veins, what if she burns him? Just a drop? A river?

Then she throws caution to the wind.

And Queen Weira does the unthinkable.

“Take it little one, take it please! Just live. Live.”

Her magic crosses over him like the warmth of the sun on his parlor skin. And he responds instantly. Color returns to his face, and he squirms and wiggles. He can not smile yet, but his face looks so cheerful Weira worries she might melt.

There is an hour, just an hour, where everything is right. She holds her baby, and they simply stare at each other. They are happy. She imagines a world where he grows up, knowing she loved him more than anything. A world where they place a golden crown on his head after she places her last kiss on his forehead.

But as he slips into the sweet escape of sleep, Weira is confronted for her actions.

It is oblivious to anyone with even a rudimentary understanding of magic what she has done. The golden hue of her magic still lies upon his skin, and the air smells of petrichor and roses.

The Council panics, reprimanding her with words so harsh, it is as if they have forgotten she is the Queen. Her attendants hang their heads, and even Zaden looks at her as if he can not believe what she has done, who she even is.

And it is not just anger on their faces, no, it is fear.

Fear that the Heart will be forever corrupted. That their world will die, blackened and withered beyond repair. Weira wants to scream at them that it's just a foul superstition.

But who is to say that it’s not the truth?

Doubt begins to darken her clouded mind. The Queens had never allowed a King before. Surely, there was a reason. What did they know but did not share? What had she done?

Doomed her world? For her own selfish desires? Because she could not-would not remove herself from a hopeless situation?

She begins to understands why Weira the Queen can never be Weira the Mother.

Because Weira the Mother will throw away everything Weira the Queen, and Leryn the Queen, and every Queen in between them has built for her child. And, in this world, that simply can not happen. This world where so many more depend on her, and her alone, she can not weigh one life against them all.

However precious that life is.

And so with one last look into those green eyes, she shakily hands him to the wet nurse. His screams start again, but she orders the wet nurse to take him away with a quivering voice. She covers her ears with her hands as they take him down the hallway.

She tells herself he is of her blood, he will understand why she must do this.

(She hopes he does.)

It was the last time she held her little Prince.

She’s failed as a mother, and she’s failed as a Queen. And so in a world where she can not be both, she chooses to be Weira the Queen, the Queen who so many depend upon.

Later, when they ask what the Prince’s name shall be, all she can think of is the fear on her Council's faces.

The fear that caused her to save his life.

The fear in his screams when she handed him away.

Her fear that made her push him away.

The answer comes without thought.

“Phobos.”

——————

Phobos and Weira are, in my headcanon, two people characterized by their extremes—the very definition of “all or nothing.” Unyielding, and just terrible with emotions. But Weira just focuses it differently, doing what is expected of her even if it destroys her. Whereas Phobos will always choose the selfish option, even if it destroys everyone else