#how he loathes the life and family he was born into to the point of rejecting all of humanity

[thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch]

of humans and soulmates [TEASER]

a/n: we all knew i was gonna tease it lets be honest (• ε •) -not proofread, there be spelling errors/inconsistencies ahead-

teaser w.count - 900+ words [current full w.count: 14k] genre: dragon emperor!zhongli, human servant!y/n, royal au, soulmate/dragon mate au, different kingdoms, angst, slow burn but also kinda not really?, hidden identities original teaser announcement

“Li!” You call out, jogging up to his side. The stranger who isn’t a stranger turns, and you assume he smiles at you. You can’t tell. You can’t see him.

Coming to stand at his front his hand moves to brush against your cheek. He does this offer so he can ‘see’ what expression you're making. Today he runs his knuckles down the apple of your cheek and can feel you smile. 

“Good evening, my dear.” 

This is Li. Your soulmate. The soulmate you can’t even see. That’s how it works- at least for you both. 

You were born with a mark on your back. Golden lines that never touch and form the shape of a diamond imprinted on your left shoulder blade. It was because of this mark you were never loved by your father or your half-sister. 

Abandoned to be a mere servant of the palace as a maid and nothing more. You’ve never once acted the part of your kingdom’s first born princess; in fact, they don’t even know you exist. Sometimes, it feels like the only good thing you got out of being unrecognized is the fact you were allowed to carry your mother’s maiden name and not the royal families. 

According to the rest of peoples in your kingdom, the first princess was still born and the mother mourned so deeply she took her own life. Thus the king remarried two years later and had a child with the late second-queen. 

Sometimes you wish you were accepted despite your ‘flaw’, yearning for familiar love. It never lingers because if you had been brought up any other way than this one, you wouldn’t be where you are now. You could have treated Li like a stranger you loathed. You don’t. You love this man whose face you have never seen. 

The way your soulmarks work is simple yet complicated. You both can meet in dreams just like this. The first time you both met was when you were 15 and to stay you were beyond spooked is an understatement. You actually woke yourself up by screaming in pure shock. He snickered at you the second time you met in a dream. 

Li is simply a shadowed figure to your eyes. You appear the same to him, a simple shadow in the shape of a human. Neither one of you will know what the other looks like until you see one another. It’s almost cruel, since you’ll probably be trapped inside this castle until you're old and grey and when you finally die, you’ll be lucky to be buried in the cemetery. You may never know what he looks like or ever get to meet him. It's tragic. 

That doesn’t mean you know nothing about your soulmate. You know plenty. 

For starters, his name isn’t actually Li, but that’s what he’s asked you to call him. He says he can’t say his name for reasons that are hard to explain. You understand though. He’s tall with long hair he usually ties low at the back of his head during the day. 

He isn’t a human, but a dragon (when he told you that, you begged to touch his ears since you’ve heard they’re pointed- he let you). However the horns you can make out the silhouette of that separate, branch off, and stretch above him you leave alone. 

He prefers drinking tea over liquor and he prefers it black- but he does fancy a particular wine that’s often made in his homeland. His kingdom has two names- one is pronounced in dragonic tongue and the other is much easier for humans to articulate. You still haven’t learned what is it though since he doesn’t often speak of home. 

He can’t stand seafood. 

Apparently he’s actually over 500 hundred years old- and when he first got his mark that matched yours- it was on the day you spooked yourself awake for the first time at 15 years old. It’s been many years since then. 

You’ve traced his face with your fingers before, hoping to get a mental feel for how he appears. His features are defined and he feels handsome, but unfortunately for you- you still couldn’t create a whole image of him in your head. You don’t know if it’s arrogance, but he also claims that others say he is pleasing to look at. You choose to believe him. 

Li loves the smell of flowers. Where he lives in the kingdom of dragons- with that dragonic name you have quite the struggle pronouncing since the language is tough on the tongue- there’s a special flower that grows spontaneously on cliffsides. The plant that blooms in three, purple stalks is called violetgrass and while every flower has its own uniqueness and beauty, he tends to favor the blue bell blooms that hang downwards. 

He was kind and patient with you. Li often speaks freely and listens attentively. Despite claiming to have a short temper some days, he’s never once lost it. He claims your presence has a calming effect on him, and should the day ever come when he raises his voice towards you, you are free to put him in his place. You can’t imagine either happening. 

While you are soulmates, Li has also taken time before to explain that additionally on his end, you are considered his dragonic mate despite remaining human. He speaks of you as if you hold his very soul in your palms and it always makes you warm. 

“You’re a bit late to fall asleep tonight,” he points out. Taking your hand in his, he helps ease you onto the ground and let your legs dangle over the edge of the cliffside. He joins you once you’ve settled, never letting himself become comfortable first.

a/n pt.2: if the whole soulmate thing doesn't make sense, i swear to god i'll try and explain it later when the m.draft is finished hngghhh. it makes sense in my heaD OKAy

[trappolia]

── PUT ALL YOUR FAULTS TO BED, YOU CAN BE KING AGAIN

leona kingscholar. the musings of the second prince, regarding the crown and his consort.

Some days, Leona thinks about what the word king means to him and how it links back to you.

Contrary to popular belief, he does not so easily forget the whispers of rumours behind his back; though, loathe as he is to admit, Leona knows that some are less rumour and more truth, no matter how spiteful. He is a prince, after all, and not some spoiled rotten child who has had compliments fed to him on a golden spoon.

Leona knows, better than anyone, that you deserve more than him.

He’s well aware of the fact that many perceive him as lazy, irritable and intimidating, and that is only saying the least. The perfect example of a student who has had to repeat a year way too many times, who is probably still in the world’s greatest magical academy because of his royal blood and noble connections.

The second prince is one way to describe him as well. Second to everything his brother does is also a possible description. Second to the throne, to their parents’ love, to the praise and glory befitting of a king; because Leona will never be king. not as long as his brother and his blood live, because Leona has always been the second option.

And so he acts like it. What else can he do? Surely he cannot try to usurp his own brother; Leona may be a better king than Falena, but he is also intelligent enough to understand the consequences of a coup, long-term or otherwise. Not to mention his nephew, who undoubtedly has the capacity to be a real pain in his ass if Leona ever does away with his father.

Now Leona spends most of his time bored and unpleasant to be around, not so unlike the whispers that circulated the halls of Afterglow Savannah's royal palace when his signature spell was discovered. It is when you find him, lazing around in the light of the sun creeping into the greenhouse (one of the only times he has ever felt that he has ever felt that he could escape from the shadows), and, for one reason or another, you decide to stay.

Leona hates it.

He hates the way you shine a light in his life. It’s too bright, too hot, and he can’t get rid of you no matter how hard he tries. And, at some point, he has become too scared to get rid of you. The underlying fear of losing that light, reduced to the shadow of a king and a crown prince that he once was; it kills Leona. It kills him because he was supposed to be a king, grew up wanting to be the perfect one to rule over the kingdom, and kings do not have weaknesses.

But Leona is not a king.

He is the brother of one, the second son of a royal family. With enough skills and intellect to survive in the battlefield that is the royal court of the Afterglow Savannah. He is born to a long line of kings, emperors, leaders; has learned from the stories of the great kings of the past, of which their blood courses through his veins; but he is not a king. Never was, and never will be.

But then again, who is to say that he isn’t a king in another sense?

"The only kingly thing you haven’t done yet is actually opening your eyes, Leona," Ruggie’s damned hyena laugh echoes in his mind, the mischievous smirk on his face while his eyes stay rooted to the pathetic homemade crown on his head.

Leona does not think Ruggie has the right to laugh, when he doesn't even understand.

Because even with his eyes closed, the second prince sees. He sees the way your breaths come and go, the warmth of the sun and the chill of the breeze on your skin, your quickening pulse and heartbeat. He sees it all without ever needing his eyes, and that is the exact reason why he doesn’t want to open them.

Because if he does, he will see you, backlit against the sun and light of the greenhouse you both visit so much, and then he will want more; you by his side in the kingdom of Afterglow Savannah, bathing in the morning light while wrapped in royal robes, the consort's crown on your head, your rightful place on the throne beside his. You cradling his cub in your arms, sweetly whispering to the result of your love, the future ruler and heir to the throne that is rightfully his. Leona knows that there is none other more deserving of a consort's crown than you, and he would kill anyone who tried to take it from you.

(He would kill for you in a heartbeat. No matter what the cost.

One day, Leona thinks, he will not be the only one to fear the extent of what he feels for you.)

But what murder is justified when the crime hasn’t even been committed? When you do not have the consort's crown, because Leona doesn’t even have the king’s.

(Child’s play; reaching for something he will never get. Leona is a master at this game, even when he loses every single time.)

Silly lion, you would chide him with a smile. Not for these foolish fantasies (for Leona would never admit them), but for the most mundane things. Being late to class, forgetting to do homework, getting detention, forgetting to go to that detention. Such simple, pathetic things, and Leona listens because you are his consort, and kings listen to their consorts.

(Pathetic, hopeless little fantasies.)

"Leona?" you call out his name, your voice the melody of his sweetest, softest, weakest dreams.

Leona's eyes flutter open, lashes brushing against his cheeks as he blinks in the light.

He sees you there, bent over to peer at his sleeping expression. The way your head eclipses the sun makes it seem like you’re wearing a halo (angel’s crown), and if Leona looks closely, he can see his own kisses tangled between your locks and the light.

He closes his eyes before he can meet your gaze, see your lips and everything else he has ever wanted. He will settle for sense and touch, if not for the sake of his sanity, then for you.

"What is it now?" he snarls, feigning annoyance. He hears you laugh, and Leona knows you see right through him.

Just give him some more time, then he will give you a kingdom, the world, and everything else you’ve ever wanted and deserved──

──but for now, this will be all he can offer you.

© trappolia 2024

[maudeeloise]

Do you think you could do a Jacaerys x reader where they are childhood enemies but get betrothed and when things are going well in their marriage Jace misinterprets a moment with reader and someone else and accuses the reader to be pregnant with a bastard until it’s born looking exactly like him and he must reconcile and win reader back.

Sworn Enemies || j.v

Pairing : Jacaerys Velaryon x reader

Warning : none

You weren’t surprised. When your mother mentioned it and your sister ran into your room to check on you a few moments after your talked with your mother.

You were a noble and you had known since the very first that you would be bethrothed with another noble. Unfortunately, your family was being too close to the Targaryens that the first person they chose for you to marry was the last person you wanted to spend the rest of your life with.

The marriage was rocky and was filled with arguments — even about the smallest things. Your marriage was built by loath instead of love. You couldn’t stand his arrogance and he couldn’t stand your stubborness. Your hatred towards each other was so deep in your blood that it became the reason you ended up with his child.

Just like any other night, there you stood in different sides of your shared chambers. The bed seperating you as you had argued since the past hour.

“Don’t you dare lie to me!” Jace’s voice roared, filling the room with his anger.

“How dare you accuse me of something I didn’t do?!” You matched his tone, firm and loud.

“I am not accusing you of anything!” His jaw clenched slightly. “That baby is a bastard and you know I’m right.”

You bit back your tongue once you processed his words. He called your son a bastard. He called his own son a bastard.

“You are insane.” You spat through gritted teeth. “You have no proof on what you believe in, however I do and you’re too terrified that I might be right.”

“Nonsense!” He shook his head. “I’m not terrified of anything because I know I’m right.”

“Then take a look at your own son!” You pointed at the crib which was placed beside your side of the bed. “You have refused to even take a peak of him since he was born. Do you despise him that much?”

“He is not my son!” His voice boomed through the room.

A sudden cry broke from the baby, stealing both your attentions. You rushed towards the crib and took the baby gently before rocking him in your arms. Whispers of sweet nothings followed by a humming of the first song which came to your mind, eventually died down the cries. It only took a while before the baby went back to his slumber.

Disgust written on Jace’s face as he watched the two of you. “We need to get rid of him as soon as possible.”

Your face fell in surprise at his suggestion. There was a long moment of a pause before you moved to place the baby back on his crib. A long sigh left your lips in disbelief.

You were tired of convincing him. If you had to be honest, it hurt you every time. You wouldn’t care if he was mocking you nor he was treating you as if you had betrayed his family, but it was his son he was hating. His own flesh and blood he planned to banish.

“Are you really that insisting?” Your voice broke. Your heart aching. But you forced yourself to keep a fierce look on your face and your posture straight.

Jace let out a scoff. “You were the one who betrayed this marriage.”

“I would never!” Your voice heightened, but it wasn’t anger. You were exhausted. “I may despise you with every inch of my body, but I would never do such. I love my family and I would do anything to keep our names clean, so don’t you ever start a rumor just because you got tired of me.”

“Got tired of you?” Jace taunted. “I had wished for your death since forever, but I have never started such rumours.”

“Then whoever did!” Your chest moved up and down. Your eyes were filled with desperation, silently pleading for him to believe you. “You may hate me for the rest of your life, but that is your son, Jacaerys! Just for this once, I am asking you to second your beliefs.”

“He is not my son!”

“Take a look for yourself!”

That was the last thing you said before you exit the room. It was starting to become too much for you. Your chest hurt from holding back tears. You didn’t want to seem weak in front of him, or else he would’ve thought he won the argument.

Once you found yourself in the middle of the empty hallway, you broke down. A hand covering your mouth to silent the cries as you fell down to your knees.

On the other side of the door, stood a hesitant Jacaerys. If he had to be honest, a part of him wanted to believe you, but he had to big of an ego and a habit of always wanting to be better than you, so he was persistance of his opinion.

His eyes stared at the crib for a long minute. He was arguing with his mind whether he should just leave the room or do as you ask. His hands were fisting the material of his coat.

“Fuck this.” He said before walking up towards the crib.

His angry expression was soon replaced by a soft one once his eyes caught a glimpse of the baby. His mouth fell open slightly. The baby was a carbon copy of him — brunette hair, brown eyes, his nose, his lips. Shame masked his face the longer he looked at the baby.

He stumbled back in surprise. His hands were holding at the crib to steady himself. Guilt rushed through him like a wave of tsunami. You weren’t lying. The baby was his heir, his firstborn, his own flesh and blood.

[syndrossi]

Regret AU, Part 5(a)

In which Viserys totally gets Daemon into the right headspace for a letter from House Royce...

x~x~x

“I am sorry, Daemon, truly, but my decision is final.”

His brother’s eyes were kind, his voice laden with regret, and yet the words could have come straight from Otto Hightower’s fanged mouth, absent the apology. The snake had coiled himself around Daemon’s family long before his banishment, and the poison of his influence had only spread, to the point of elevating his equally sanctimonious daughter to queen consort, and his own grandsons to second and third in line for the Iron Throne.

He could declare that the sun rose in the north, and my brother would repeat it to all who would listen. It did not matter that Daemon had prostrated himself before his brother, and bestowed upon him the hard-won crown and title of King of the Narrow Sea. Hightower doubtless claimed that Daemon still longed for the throne, and Viserys had clearly taken it to heart.

“Why?” Daemon asked, resentment nearly choking him. “Are you so threatened by the prospect of my happiness? Or having sons of my own?”

“You have a wife,” Viserys said, his flicker of annoyance settling into an expression of weary patience. “And Lady Rhea is known to be a woman of noble character and virtue. If what you desire are sons, it is not her fault that you refuse to share her bed. I am not keeping you from it.”

“Her frigid cunt is what keeps me from it,” Daemon said bitterly. “My very presence is met with loathing. Have you tried to bed a woman who would be overjoyed if you were dead?”

Of course not. Aemma, sweet and kind, had loved Viserys. And Alicent Hightower doubtless sought to birth an entire brood, until their line was hopelessly polluted with Hightower blood.

“You have hardly given her a chance,” Viserys said, the smug superiority in his voice so reminiscent of Otto Hightower that Daemon had to spin away so as not to punch him.

What chance had there been? From the first day of their accursed marriage, when he had been barely older than Rhaenyra was now, his wife had resented him. As soon as their consummation had completed, she had dismissed him from the bedchamber, seemingly determined that he understood his place. Daemon had hardly gone into the match willingly, but he could still remember the humiliation of being escorted to his own chamber.

His father had loved his mother so deeply that he had never recovered from her loss. He had refused to wed again, no matter how the king had threatened and cajoled. His uncle Aemon had taken his aunt Jocelyn everywhere on Caraxes’s back, and not once had he viewed her inability to give him a son as a failing. Daemon’s memories abounded with tender moments between the two, and the longing he had felt for such a match.

He had been smitten with Aemma for a time, who was nearly of an age with him, but she had been promised early to Viserys. Nowhere else within their shrinking family had been a bride for him, and yet when he had taken his merriment to the Street of Silks instead, his grandmother had reacted as though he were a second Saera in the making and sought for him a godly, virtuous Vale woman.

His grandparents, his parents, his uncle, his cousin Rhaenys—all of them had chosen their matches. They had sought love, passion, happiness. Although his brother’s marriage had been chosen for him, they had known Aemma as children, and love had grown between them. And Viserys’s second marriage to Alicent Hightower had not been one of politics. That choice had been one of pure desire.

While Daemon was expected to content himself with the prison that was his marriage to Rhea Royce. Thank all the gods I was not born a woman, or I would not be permitted to escape even on dragonback.

Daemon stared at the wall, the pattern of its stone melding with that of Runestone. “So you will grant me any boon but that.” You will consign me to a life alone. I may be at your side or Rhea’s, but no one else’s. I will see Rhaenyra wed and with children of her own, while I remain childless.

And gods forbid that he seek to father a bastard on a mistress. He would be banished to Runestone once more, and if Otto Hightower had his say, which the snake always would, the unlucky woman would be force-fed moon tea.

He had returned to King’s Landing triumphant, but that victory tasted of ash now.

“If what you fear is that I seek to wed Rhaenyra, then let me seek a match with Laena instead,” he said, feeling a desperation overtake him. “If I were to speak to Corlys—”

“The answer is no, Daemon.”

He turned back to his brother, feeling each thud of his heart through the tightening of his chest. “Because you do not trust me?”

Viserys sighed. “That is not the reason—”

“Because Otto Hightower does not will it?”

“Enough, Daemon.” His brother’s patience had expended itself at last, or perhaps the remark had struck too true. “You are hardly the first man to have little affection for your wife. That is not sufficient grounds to split the bonds of marriage.”

Daemon said nothing, for it was that or scream.

“If not your complaints, then Rhaenyra’s obstinance with her own suitors—I am wearied unto the bone by all this talk of marriage,” Viserys said. “Let us discuss something else.”

“Perhaps I could be your new jester,” Daemon said tightly. “Since you prefer that I only speak if it amuses you.”

The tiny clench of Viserys’s jaw was not nearly as satisfying as he had expected. “Shall we visit Aegon and Aemond in the nursery? Perhaps that will serve as suitable motivation for you.”

Daemon broke for the door, dispensing with decorum lest he attack his brother and end up with a Kingsguard sword in the gut. “I shall leave you to the joys of fatherhood,” he snarled.

[katyspersonal]

Heolstor might be a Carian in-law, or just a Carian + Ranni tried to prevent his raise too?

So, he has a Moonlight Sword! It is a staple in Fromsoft's games, but in Elden Ring setting, it is a customary gift by a Carian queen to her chosen one

+ not a ring finger, but it reminded me of a ring of purple gemstone that Rennala is depicted wearing (also not a ring finger, funny enough):

So, I wonder whether he also was engaged with a Carian at some point? He is apparently an AU version of The Revenger from Weeping Peninsula whose whole nation got wiped off by Godfrey ( x ), and sorcerers from Liurnia, Carians included, were also enemies of the Erdtree before Rennala's marriage!

I am actually questioning whether it might have been an existing character? 🤔

I was not sure what to make out of the fact that in Japanese original script, Ranni says that now "the night is infinitely far away" besides the fact that 'age of stars' is somehow a different type of the 'night' than whatever it was that she presumably prevented!

But now, seeing that Nightreign's whole poster is an Elden Ring that was altered into a blue version with crescent motives, that Heolstor has Elden Ring inside like Radagon once did, and that he has a sword gifted by a Carian princess to her consort (and maybe their customary ring), I feel like I know just the person that can offer some insight on this situation!

The thing is? The Carian princess in question here is not Ranni, but Renna herself! It is especially apparent by how Lazuli Conspectus sorcerers in Raya Lucaria were already a thing before Ranni was even born, and they wield this crest!

@val-of-the-north explained why the Snowy Crone is Renna in a way more detail in this ( x ) post, but all in all, Renna was long time ago dead and became the four-armed blue cursed ghost herself:

Ranni's motivation is to push the Elden Ring out of anyone's reach as it is the tool to hack laws of nature and people's fates according to your own vision, and allow a presumably more "objective" force (the stars) guide people instead!

But if Renna knew Heolstor, and already was dead from old age (?) by the time Ranni found her, she might have also added something like "Oh by the way there is another guy who will seek to nuke the Golden Order but not for a noble reason that you do, he will seek revenge upon all living after what happened to him, I don't know when or if he will raise but you might want to prevent him from taking the Elden Ring as well :/". So now, along with other things, the Night is also "infinitely far away", because Heolstor did as much as he did through taking the Elden Ring!

Now, I am not sure whether Renna herself was his bride! Could be that, could be someone else but she would still know about him through being family in law. Maybe Godfrey nuking his country even was the actual reason Liurnia became hostile to the Erdtree? The thing is, trolls, close allies of Carians, were traitors of the Fire Giants that sided with the Erdtree during that war instead! A Troll named Theodorix was even glorified as a hero by them. Raya Lucaria soldiers also seem to honor the Golden Order's ways, as they specifically loathe Albinaurics for their "impure blood" and went against Carians because Rennala "was no god, after all" (so, didn't like how divorce effected her). Original Raya Lucaria sorcerers also respect the golden amber along with the stars, as the source of ancient life, as said by Sellen, just that they aim higher for the cold stars!

I was confused, but with the new information, it started to feel like it were Carians specifically who went against the Golden Order! It just meant roping everyone in Liurnia with them too, since they are literally the rulers of the region! And maybe Heolstor's people being killed off and Castle Morne / Weeping Peninsula usurped became the trigger. Something more like 'well when we decided to not do anything about the usurpators we didn't expect they'd eventually usurp us :/'.

At the same time, there is also the whole fact that "night and flame" is exactly what Heolstor inflicts on the Lands Between x)

He must have been in a very close association. Alternatively, maybe he himself a Carian princess that went a very separate way to establish a different territory and country, but the Erdtree could not let someone thrive without their authorisation. -_-"

+ fun fact that might be a coincidence but maybe not: Weeping Peninsula and Liurnia are the two regions where whole settlements tormented by Frenzied Flame exist! A residence of Carians, and a residence of a Carian's consort......

UPDATE: @sahashbelvanie left a comment and:

Yes, seems like the Moonlight Sword restricts him, it isn't necessarily his.

sjhfshdsh Well, folks, perhaps like 70% of the post is cancelled, it is JUST about how Ranni intending to stop him along other things was foreshadowed XD

[runningfrom2am]

the death of a doctor // LTPF

summary: with the snow heir on the way, your first son, your father wants to meet with you for the first time in years. your husband is not going to let that happen.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 1.4k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. use of poison with intent to kill, murder. also this takes place ten years after they returned to the capitol!

series masterlist // playlist

Your father is led through the extensive halls of the Presidential Mansion and out to the back gardens, into the rose garden where he is set to meet with you. Finally.

He's not met with you, and he should have anticipated that. His daughter, pregnant with her first child- a little boy, who should one day be heir to the President's fortune, born into a life of success and indulgences beyond imagination. Instead, he only sees his son-in-law.

"Please, take a seat." Coriolanus offers to him, a welcoming smile on his face as he gestures to the small tea table in the middle of the space. It was a fake smile, of course. Your father has seen it on the television or at events hundreds of times, but Coriolanus Snow would always try to be a good host- regardless of how much he loathed the guest in question.

"Thank you." Your father matches his polite grin, nodding to him before taking a seat. His eyes scan the greenhouse, taking in the abundance of roses and the patches of raspberry bushes that line the walls.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Coryo says proudly, carefully plucking one of the white roses from its stem to place in the centre of the tea table. "My wife takes good care of this garden, it's in honour of my Grandmother. They both love roses." He explains, not giving your father any chance to answer.

"It's lovely." He nods in agreement, watching as his son-in-law places the blooming flower in a vase on the table, sitting down himself and looking at your father expectantly. "Where is she?" Your father decides to get right to the point- no use dancing around it anymore.

"She's out." Coriolanus answers. "She's with Tigris. They're picking out colours for the nursery today."

"I was told I would be able to speak to her."

"I am capable of passing on a message."

Your father sighs, looking down and shaking his head. "Coriolanus, I appreciate everything you have done for my daughter over the years, I do, but that girl needs her family. Her parents. Especially right now. We just want to be able to support her during such an exciting and scary time."

"She has a family." Coryo defends quickly. He had never thought the situation to be scary, before. It was all excitement and parties and baby clothes and being together and enjoying the moments in which she carried his child. Suddenly, he's seeing it differently. His mother. His sister who was never even given a name. You were not free from that fate. He clears his throat. "And I assure you, she is well taken care of here. We have the best medical care the country offers available at the snap of my fingers." He says it more to remind himself.

"No, she doesn't." Your father argues, a smug smile tugging on his lips. She doesn't have him. The most renowned and desired doctor in the Capitol, in the country.

"She does." Coryo insists. "I know what you are implying, and I promise you are mistaken."

"I just want to make things right, Coriolanus." Your father adds. "I want to apologize so my wife can be there for the birth of her grandchild, so I can take good care of my daughter and ensure she is safe."

"She is safe."

Your father clocks the tenseness in your husbands jaw very quickly. "I know about your mother." His tone drops to make space for a fake form of empathy. "I knew her. She was an amazing woman and a wonderful mother. It's such a shame, what happened..." He ticks his head. "So easily preventable."

"Then where were you?" Coriolanus allows himself to lean into something more personal with the bitter question.

"I wasn't called. I wish I had been." Your father answers honestly. "Both of us know your family was in no position to pay for a doctor at the time, even with your father away working himself to death in Twelve."

Coryo chews on the inside of his cheek, looking down at the untouched drinks in between them.

"Maybe things would have ended differently for all of us."

"You speak as if you are some kind of angel." Coryo scoffs. "You still would have gone home from saving my mother and sister and beat your own daughter for being up past her bedtime, but you didn't come because my mother's life was worth nothing to you if you weren't going to be paid to save it." He picks up the teacup in front of him, taking a sip before removing it from his lips and looking down at the liquid. "My apologies, this one is yours. I asked for milk in mine." He says casually, carefully switching the cups. He can see it in your father's eyes he wants to fight with him on this.

"The war made it impossible to do any unpaid work, and like I said, I wasn't made aware of your mother's state. Besides, Y/N is my child, and you know nothing of what goes into being a parent. It is hard. You'll have moments of poor judgement and do things you will regret. You will make mistakes. That is all it was to me." Your father explains. "But I know better now. All I want is to help her."

"You don't want to help her." Coryo shakes his head. "I am telling you she has all the help she needs, and you are not needed. Your wife and son will be allowed in the mansion during the birth. It is my wife's choice when and if they will be allowed to see the child." He knew you would allow it, you occasionally had lunch with your mother and your brother found himself at the mansion quite often to use their library. They were welcome, he was not.

Your father takes a sip of his tea while he processes the information. "Is that her decision, or yours?"

"Like I said, I can pass on a message to her." Your husband replies, ignoring his question and popping one of the raspberries from the plate into his mouth and sitting back, hands placed patiently on his lap while he ignores the pain starting to bloom in his chest.

"Tell her..." Your father sighs. "That we love her, and we miss her dearly. And if she needs anything or feels unsafe, she can always come home."

"Unsafe?" Coryo asks, tilting his head with a slight, humourless laugh. "I know you don't care for me, sir, but I am the last person on this planet who would do anything to harm her. It seems you're not understanding that."

"I just want her to survive." Your father spits. "If you love her the way you say you do, don't you want her to be the one to successfully produce your heir? You would hate to have to find someone else, I know you would. Especially if the love of your life died in the same way as your mother, this time taking your child with her."

Coriolanus stands up abruptly, anger coursing through his veins alongside the poison as the chair slides back behind him. "You've never believed in her. Ever. Even now you assume that at the most natural struggle she will die. This is not about my doctors, it is about your ego and how little you respect your own child because of how you raised her. She has more fight in her than any woman I have ever met. You don't even know the extent of it."

"It's because I know her, Coriolanus. I..." Your father's voice trails off and he looks down at his shaking hands. He knows what Coriolanus has done, but there's nothing he can do to save himself now.

"You don't know her. You never have." Coryo argues. "You have never once reached out except to try and leach off of her success and my name. You couldn't care less if she lives or dies- you just want to be the one to deliver a royal baby. If you knew her, you would know that the last thing in the world she wants is to ever see you again."

He watches as your father's face goes ashen, the sentience behind his eyes disappearing. It brings a smile to his face. "You are a monster." He adds, and it's the last thing your father hears before he dies right there in your garden.

Coriolanus smiles in satisfaction, raising his hand and snapping for his security and his nurse to enter. Quickly, she reaches for his arm as he already rolled up his sleeve and she can inject the antidote.

"Dispose of him." He urges the security team, quickly pulling his red coat sleeve back over the injection site in his arm. "My wife will be home soon, this would be distressing for her. I need her as calm and comfortable as possible."

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[yanderelionwrites]

Look at Me Like I’m the Only Star in the Sky - Yandere!Leona x Reader

Content Warning: (soft) yandere, implied kidnapping/captivity

Word Count: 722

A/N: First twst writing on this blog! This man has me by the throat 😩 Enjoy!

You had never seen so many at once before.

Each twinkling ball of light decorating the night sky had you staring up at them in awe. Seeing the stars and moon shining so brightly captivated you; the tranquility in the air bringing a type of peace you haven’t felt in a while. You would never get such a nice view of the stars back home, only able to count on your hands how many you could see. But here…there had to be at least a million of them. A million stars that are foreign to you. No familiar constellation that you could point out.

It was times like these that remind you how far away you truly are from your own world. Your home.

A home that you will never return to.

A home that’s been ripped away from you, and replaced with a suffocating palace.

The Afterglow Savanna stretches far and wide before you, the sun having set long ago. The country really is a gorgeous place, but you know you won’t ever get to explore it. You’re not allowed to leave the palace and you’re not allowed to leave him.

At least you’re allowed out on the balcony. You’ve contemplated climbing down to make an escape, but the risk of being caught by the guards was too high. They’ve been told to keep a close eye on you, and you did not want to scuffle with those intimidating beastwomen guards.

You sigh at the cluster of stars up above. They twinkle back. You vaguely remember Leona mentioning how it was believed the stars were the dead kings from the past. They’d watch over the royal family and guide them whenever they lost their way.

…The one watching Leona must have gotten lazy.

“There you are.”

A voice you once loathed to hear, but now have grown to somewhat tolerate, pipes up behind you. A few steps and he’s leaning against the balcony a comfortable distance away from you.

Great.

The once peaceful air has turned tense now, and you don’t bother to greet or even acknowledge that he is there. The two of you stand in painful silence, waiting for the other to speak.

“Ya look like you’ve never seen a night sky before,” Leona says, his eyes still glued to the stars.

You’re quiet for a moment, debating whether you actually want to indulge him in conversation this time. You take so long thinking about it, Leona huffs and turns to leave.

“…It’s rare for me to see it like this. Only a couple stars are ever visible where I’m from.” Your voice stops him in his tracks, and he returns to his place against the balcony. He hums in acknowledgment, but stays quiet after that.

Leona has always been interested in hearing about your home, but knows better than to ask. Any talk about your world would only put you in a bad mood. You already hate him; no need to keep reminding you why. It was best to just pretend you weren’t from an entirely different universe at all. Maybe with enough time you’ll forget about your world and consider Twisted Wonderland as your forever home.

Instead, he opts for stealing glances at you while your gaze is turned away from him. You look so soft in the moonlight, no one would have guessed you had been spewing insult after insult at him this morning. Proclaiming how much you hate him.

But Leona loves you. So he’ll let you get away with saying just about anything to him. All that matters is that you’re here with him.

You’re completely enamored by the stars. Are they really that amazing to you? They’re just big balls of flaming gas billions of kilometers away. Nothin’ special. 

…Would you ever look at him that way?

Like he was the most important thing you could ever lay your eyes on. Like he was the shining light of your life.

…No, of course not. Why would you? He’s the selfish, second born prince, and he doesn’t deserve that same look of admiration from you.

Leona can’t pretend and he can’t keep hoping anymore. He’s ruined his chances, and now you hate him more than anything.

But at least you’re by his side. You can’t leave him behind.

He’ll settle for that.

For now.

~~~

I like mean yan Leona as much as the next gal, but soft yan Leona?? Where he's desperate for his Darling's love but still patiently waits for them to come around?? That's the good shit 👌

Reblogs and comments are always appreciated!! Hope you liked this little drabble!

[soviet-supersoldier]

Alright, since the events of Raid on Greymalkin directly affects Arkady, let's talk about it and how terribly the X-men have all been written in this narrative for this story to work and what it likely means for Arkady’s future.

So, in the first issue of Sentinels, Omega Red was captured and brought to Greymalkin Prison by the new Sentinels that Larry Trask and Warden Ellis have created to hunt down "bad" mutants. Keep in mind, Omega Red did absolutely nothing to deserve being thrown into a place like this, as his arc in the From the Ashes Infinity Comic shows. In fact, no one imprisoned here deserves to face what goes on behind these closed doors:

Here, we are shown the state of this prison. It's flithy, rat-ridden, and disgusting. These characters have to live in this place. Blob is being tortured, and -- as we later come to learn in the events of Raid -- brainwashed KGB-style through this method of torture to become a "trustee." I'm going to focus on this a bit as it is important to not only show how this is going to affect the imprisoned characters moving forward from this storyline, but also how it paints the X-men in a very bad light for allowing this to continue.

So, the characters who are imprisoned in Greymalkin currently are all characters who have been villains at one point or another. Every one of these characters has faced judgment and hatred for being what they are and what they were made into. Omega Red is a prime example of this. As a child, he feared and hated his powers:

This is not a view of himself that has improved in adulthood. Arkady still views himself as a monster, that his abilities make him a bad person:

And this is a view he holds even after his time spent on Krakoa where he was able to start turning his life around. He doesn't have to kill to live anymore, and Sage had done a lot to help him improve himself while he lived there and worked as a member of X-Force. Even after all that and her encouragement, the doubt lingers. The self-loathing is still there. I know Arkady is not the only prisoner trapped in Greymalkin right now who struggles with such doubts. Who carries guilt like he does. It's a subconscious view that a lot of mutants have about themselves because society has pretty much told them for their entire lives that they're horrible people because of their powers. That they're all monsters and freaks of nature that need to be killed or locked up. And now, these characters have been put into a place where those fears and doubts about themselves and their place in the world are being indoctrinated into them to be the only thought they're allowed to have about themselves:

This creed that these trustees are forced to recite and believe in is just sickening. Any amount of self-worth that any of them started to get in their lives as of late is being stripped away again in the cruelest possible way. They're being told -- through torture mind you -- that they were born evil. That they're monsters. That they are lesser than humans and lesser than any other mutants because the genetic lottery gave them powers that were a burden and a curse rather than something that can easily be used to benefit others or that would allow them to pass as a normal human like so many of the X-men can.

Which brings this all around to the main point: the X-men. Before this new era even started, I want to point out a few things. The first is that the X-men worked with all of these current prisoners in one form or another while living on Krakoa. They (eventually) gave every one of these characters a chance. Blob was a bartender. Omega Red got cured of his need to kill and became a member of X-Force. Theresa was able to reconcile with Sean and Black Tom and bring their family together. The X-men were able to see these changes and progress made by all of these people. In Omega Red’s case, they even voted on the decision to give him a second chance, with Kurt being a voting member of the Quiet Council who decided to listen to Sage’s argument to have him brought back. They should know that these former villains have been making an effort to improve themelves. The last time they saw any of them, these former villains were all allies, which makes comments like this seem very out of character for someone like Kurt to make:

Kurt should know Arkady is an ally. But yet he's acting like Omega Red is a monster and that nothing he did on Krakoa to improve himself even mattered. Which, again, is something that all of these prisoners are being tortured into believing about themselves. Hearing the X-men hold the same view about you as these horrible guards do is not something that will make a person feel welcomed or loved or help them believe that they can be better than what the world made them into. The trust that Omega Red had started to build on Krakoa with the X-Men is going to start to crumble because of how they are continuing to view him and the plight that all these characters are in.

Which brings me to my next point: just what are the X-men doing? When Krakoa fell, Orchis had mutants under siege. They rounded up mutants in camps to strip them of their powers and torture them. The X-men and Avengers didn't stand for that and fought tooth and nail to get rid of Orchis. They went to war for their kind, for their right to exist. And they beat Orchis. But what did they really end up gaining at the end of it all? Well, if you're the X-men, you got some variation of peace or concessions, getting bases, time to relax and enjoy the world and your victory. Being able to pass for human really helps in that regard. If you weren’t able to pass, however?

You faced violence. Discrimination. Hatred. Society is not kind to mutants who look different. Who are unable to blend in. These were the mutants --villain or not -- who benefited the most from Krakoa. Because they all finally had a place where they could be safe and accepted no matter their looks or abilities. When the X-men finally beat Orchis, they seemed content to leave everything at that and didn't try to reclaim any piece of what they had lost for the sake of those mutant brothers and sisters who were bound to struggle the most without a mutant community to support them.

They unfortunately seemed to just accept that everything was still fine since they themselves weren't personally being bothered by the hatred. But all the while, mutants have started to slip through the cracks without support from the wider mutant community. A community that the X-men are supposed to protect. And this extends beyond characters like Omega Red and the other Greymalkin prisoners, although they are the ones currently being tortured the most. Lifeguard. Chamber. Firestar. These are all characters that have faced a world that hates and fears them without the X-men doing anything to help them. Why haven't the X-men done anything? Because so many of them just gave up and settled for what they have. They had the luxury to be able to do so because they look human. Their powers aren't horrendous abilities that they can't control or that kill people.

Even still, even if they want to take a break, they should all know the fight is not done. They are all well aware of what was done to their former home, the X-Mansion. They know it was turned into a prison. Jubilee scouted it out. Rogue and Scott had phone calls about it. And yet they did nothing. They let it continue to stand, this place which sullies the name of the X-men and their history. This place -- which treats mutants in a similar way to how Orchis treated mutants -- is allowed to continue to grow and thrive even after the X-men and Avengers had just put their foot down and said such places were not going to be tolerated. Now they're tolerating it? Why? There is absolutely no reason to wait. And yet they did. They did absolutely nothing to correct this injustice towards their fellow mutants until one of their own was impacted. Until they themselves finally started to face the same things characters like Omega Red had already been facing for months now. It was only when they were personally threatened that they decided to do anything. Which brings us to the Raid itself.

The Raid... was a mess. A disaster. A series of unfortunate events that didn't have to be. Instead of going into this place, seeing the atrocities committed on the grounds of their first home and feeling a strong urge to eliminate this threat, what did they do? They fought amongst themselves. They argued. They did absolutely nothing to help any of the prisoners. Kurt left Omega Red to rot in his cell. They did nothing to free the trustees nor made any sort of real threats of anger towards the warden for what she was doing to their fellow mutants. Rogue came the closest to saying this place was wrong, but all her concern was devoted to Charles Xavier, the only mutant willingly imprisoned in this place. No concern was given to any of the others at all until it was too late.

And yet, again, this whole thing just seems wrong and runs as an antithesis to what the X-men are, what they stand for, and what they would actually tolerate. A big laser gun should be something they should be able to take care of. The X-men shouldn't be this easily cowed into obedience after everything they recently faced with the fall of Krakoa and how they fought back against Orchis. Thry shouldn't be taking "no" for an answer. They shouldn't allow for this prison to stand. They NEVER should have. And yet, time and time again here, they have failed in their work to actually help their kind, to make the world a better place for mutants. This is not the X-men I fell in love with reading about. This is not the X-men that I know. The X-men should be doing so much better than this. But they're not. They've rolled over and accepted that this is the reality and that they are powerless against a podcaster and her satellite weapon.

This is something the X-men should have never allowed to happen. They should have never allowed things to get this far. And as a result, by doing nothing when they could and SHOULD have been doing something, their enemies were allowed to regroup and begin targeting the most vulnerable members of the mutant community. The X-men failed in their responsibilities and let a place full of cruel and unusual punishment to stand because they weren't the mutants being personally affected by what was happening. And now, so many more have to pay the price for their inaction.

Where does that leave the unfortunate prisoners of this place? At this point, beyond being torn down in mind and body, it's hard to say. Every single one of them does have the right to call the X-men out on their failure, though. They all would be very justified in their anger at being left behind, both after Krakoa fell and here at this prison. In Omega Red’s case, I could very easily see this whole experience souring him on the X-men again and making him very unwilling to trust them again. Because even after everything that these former villains have been trying to do, there's still some part of the X-men that seem to view these unfortunate souls as monsters that deserve to be treated like animals. That they deserve to get beaten, fed rotten food and forced to sleep in wretched cells.

The X-men have failed in their role to protect mutants. They have failed to stand for what is right and failed to help their fellow mutants from being condemned to one of the worst fates a mutant can face: to be weaponized and used like a tool to attack other mutants. The Raid on Greymalkin story arc is a blight on X-men comics and is an example of what not to do when doing a story like this. Characters and their histories cannot be ignored. Petty fights over arbitrary issues should not be taking place when there are SO many higher priorities that need to be taken care of. This story was nothing but disappointing and sours me on the direction Marvel is taking the X-men. There is nothing to look forward to. Like the mutant prisoners who were left behind to be further tortured and devalued, we the readers have been left to a similar fate, wondering when in the world we will finally be freed from this prison that Marvel's writers are putting us in and what we -- and the characters we love -- will even come out on the other side looking like.

[bookfanatic06]

I haven’t written anything in over a decade, but this head canon just won’t go away. I’ve often wondered if the idea of “like calls to like” will be prevalent in Elriel’s book like in all the others. I really feel like Elain is hiding some deep shit that just can’t be ignored. This piece is really what I think could happen if Elain deep down shares Azriel’s penchant for self loathing and low self esteem. She gets so much crap from the fandom for being boring, I really see her surprising us with some darker personality traits.

Also, my favorite thing about this other than the Elriel fluff is Nesta. I wanted to see her and Elain making up after the events of ACOSF on page. I didn’t hate Nesta, just thought she treated my baby El poorly.

I’m not sure if I’ll write more to this, or if it’s going to stay a one shot. I’m also not sure if I’m ready to post to AO3. I’m a mom with 3 kids and a full time teaching gig. I’m not sure I have it in me.

So here is my first shot at writing Elriel.

Unworthy

Words: 5112

Angst/Romance

Pairings: Major: Elain Archeron/Azriel,

Minor: Feyre/Rhysand, Cassian/Nesta, Varian/Amren

———————

Remember who you are, Kingslayer.

She breathes to herself as she stares at her reflection in the mirror, plastering on the smile she knows her family would never second guess. Perfected so much over the years in her mother’s keep, as she was taught to never reveal her true emotions, to never let anyone see the heartbreak, the pain of unworthiness embedded in her very soul.

The dreams plaguing her at the moment, the ones that increase with the unyielding torrent of emotions swirling in her mind, are of her family having lost their use of her. That she has become a burden that they can cast aside so needlessly. So she sits at the mirror and contemplates how to be helpful. She’ll practice those new recipes that she received from that fae female at the market. She’ll make the gardens of Velaris so beautiful, people will ask for her. She’ll care for Nyx when his parents need a break.

But still, she feels the hole in her chest and wonders if it’ll be enough. Will she forever be cast aside or passed over in favor of her sisters because of their far more important accomplishments?

What exactly has she accomplished?

I killed the King of Hybern. She whispers so that only the shadows can hear. Not Nesta, as all of Prythian seemed to believe. She knows she pushed that knife into his throat, she still dreams about it; still feels the hilt of the blade in her hands. Even the shadows, the ones that she felt the comforting presence of for so long, have gone quiet since solstice.

She knows that her sisters are magnificent. That they both have earned their right to voice their opinions and be cherished in this world. Feyre, the High Lady that the Night Court deserves, and Nesta, the warrior she was always meant to be. But Elain, she carries the weight of unworthiness everywhere she goes. She wasn’t born to lead, she wasn’t born to be a warrior. She was born with a gentle heart, with a delicate resolve. But a will of iron.

You shoved that knife into his neck. You aren’t as gentle as you believe yourself to be.

She’s intimately familiar with self loathing by now. It curls around her like the vines that wrap around the fortress of her mind. But that voice, the voice that is hers, but much more confidently so, tries to remind her of what she has to offer. Her heart breaks as the self loathing pushes through whispers, “He doesn’t want someone who is brittle and weak. He wants someone courageous, someone with fire in their heart, someone like…”

Mor.

Despite the months that have passed since she found herself alone in the foyer in the early morning hours of Winter Solstice, she is still tortured by the thought that even her dearest friend, or whom she believed him to be, had been repulsed by her meritless existence. The pain of that night has yet to ebb, and she wonders if, at some point in her immortal life, it ever will.

She huffs a breath and stands from her vanity, moving to open the door and walk into the hallway, that gentle but false smile she’s perfected on her face.

As she reaches the kitchen, she is surprised to find Feyre, eyes clouded with sleep, hair poking out of the halfhearted braid she probably threw together before bed the previous night, holding a bottle to Nyx’s whimpering mouth.

“I think he’s starting to teethe. He’s been like this all night.” Feyre’s eyes flicker to Elain quickly before resting on her son’s mouth as it attaches to the bottle and then detaches with a small wail. Elain opens her arms, a silent request to take over – and make herself useful.

“I’ll take him, you go get some sleep.” She says gently, taking the babe into her arms. Feyre gives her a tired smile.

“Rhys and I are so lucky to have you here with us, El.”

Elain’s false smile returns to her features, and before she can give herself away, she shoos her sister out of the kitchen to take over as Nyx’s caregiver. She cradles her nephew to her, his chest to her own, rubbing circles on his back, between his little wings as she’s watched her sister and Rhys do time and time again. For a moment, the hole in her heart fills with the love she has for the babe in her arms. It doesn’t escape her, that if her life hadn’t so explicitly changed thanks to the betrayal that left her at the mercy of The Cauldron, she would probably have a babe of her very own by now. THAT thought doesn’t hurt as much as she thinks it should.

Because a child with Grayson would have been a monumental mistake.

The thought is gone as fast as it had come. That’s one part of her life that she is resolute in. Being Grayson’s wife, the mother to his brood, would NOT have been a step up from her current existence. She’s not sure how she knows that, perhaps from watching how Feyre and Nesta are treated by their mates. The unmatched adoration, the passion between the mates that she can sense from the couples as she plays the fifth wheel.

Why don’t I feel that way towards my own?

It’s not lost on her that she covets the bond her sisters have with their mates; what it must feel like knowing that your mate would give their very lives for your happiness. Her and her mate can barely be in the same room as each other, the bond an uncomfortable tether pulling at her rib.

She had once asked how it felt for her sisters, to see if the bond was true…

“It’s a blossoming warmth in my chest. The pull to Rhys is oftentimes so strong that I can't imagine my life before him.” Feyre had told her.

Her and her mate definitely could not relate.

But that warmth, she could have sworn she felt it before. When three fae males had walked into her home in the humanlands, and she had chanced a glance into the hazel eyes of the fae male with sapphire gems on his leathers. His gaze had caused her breath to catch, and every once in a while, when the war was over and she would be in his presence again, she would find herself looking into those eyes and she could almost feel the ghost of that warmth in her chest. Her breath would catch every time.

That hole was deep and chilled now.

The circles she’s been rubbing on her nephew’s back have quieted his little whimpers and he’s quiet on her chest as she moves to the window overlooking the gardens she’s cared for all these months. The gardens bloom in the vibrant colors of late spring. In her angst, she just wishes that the loveliness of the flowers she’s cultivated filled that hole in her chest that she so achingly wants to forget. An ache that, for the moment, her nephew in her arms has dulled significantly.

“Little one, you hold my heart in your hands.” She whispers as she kisses the thick black hair on his tiny head. At two months old, Nyx is the splitting image of his father, with Feyre’s temper to boot.

She sways back and forth, Nyx a solid presence, a weight holding her down to this earth. She almost misses the sound of the front door opening, but turns just in time to see the eyes of the male who still so captivated her thoughts.

No words are exchanged but he sends her a quick nod of acknowledgement as her own eyes quickly return to her nephew’s sleeping form. Her heart thundering in her empty chest. Before she can return her gaze to where the male stood, he is gone. Leaving her alone with that chasm in-between her ribs. The feeling of unworthiness crawling back into her thoughts.

He’s too good for me anyway.

She walks silently to the nursery, opting to place Nyx in his crib to attempt to get some breakfast prepared. She leaves the door slightly ajar, in case he awakens while she is cooking in the kitchen. Her fae hearing attuned to his little cries.

In the kitchen, she washes her hands and pulls out what is necessary for a quick meal. Bacon, eggs, some leftover scones from the pantry that she can reheat for her family to enjoy. She’s startled when Rhys and his companion walk briskly down the hall and through the foyer to the front door. Their voices quiet but unmistakable.

“All I need is 24 hours of rest and then I can head back down into the tunnels.” his deep tenor voice feels like a balm to her aching chest.

“Take the week, you look like you haven’t slept in months.” A pause and a sigh.

“I can always count on you for a confidence boost, Rhys.” She can feel the small smile gracing his lips as he speaks with his brother.

“I’m serious, Az. You’re no good to us if you’re dead on your feet. Take the week. Clean yourself up, eat a few hot meals, and sleep.” She wonders if this pause after Rhys speaks is meant to last as long as it does in her mind.

“Okay.” It’s breathless, and she can feel the exhaustion behind every syllable.

“Come to the kitchen. I’m sure Elain is whipping up something for breakfast. It’ll do you well to get something into your stomach.” She bites her lip at the invitation. He hasn’t had a meal in her presence in months, since before Nyx’s arrival, possibly not since Winter Solstice, but she’s unable to remember.

Elain straightens her spine, contemplating whether she should look in the pantry for some potatoes to add to her small spread. Her thoughts are interrupted by his forlorn response.

“I should really get back to the House of Wind, Nesta and Cassian are waiting for me.” An obvious lie and she feels like the remnants of her heart have turned liquid and puddled on the floor.

“Ask the House to make you something nice.” Rhys’ voice takes on a worried tone.

“I will.”

She holds back the tears threatening to spill as she hears his boots take him to the door and then outside. The heartbreak is still as tangible as it was months ago.

If Rhys notices the silver in her eyes when he strides into the kitchen, he doesn’t mention it. Just kisses her sweetly on the cheek and smiles,

“Good morning, Dear Sister.”

—————-

It’s a few nights later, while her family, sans Mor and Amren, sits at the dinner table eating the roast and potatoes she and the twins had been slow cooking over the course of the day, that Nesta looks at the empty chair across the table and says with worry gracing her normally icy gaze, “when are you going to start ordering Azriel to attend family dinners?”

Cassian places a hand on her knee as if to say NOT NOW.

She shrugs him off. Giving him that icy stare that’s become her calling card, “He’s a shell of himself. Even more closed off and broody than ever. He crawls around those tunnels and pokes his head out for a day or two and then heads right back in. The bags under his eyes are darker than yours” she points at Rhys. “And he doesn’t have a newborn to account for it.”

Elain sits up at that, heart sputtering as if she can feel him. As if she can feel the darkness pulling him under.

Maybe she can.

“I’m worried. Cassian is too; he’s just too stubborn to admit it. Az is working himself to death.” Elain puts a hand to her chest, as if that hand could hold her heart into place.

“Az is working very hard to get the answers we need about the Daglan and protect all of us, Nesta.” Feyre states gently, holding Nesta’s gaze as they narrow.

“But he shouldn’t HAVE to. We could rotate duties. We can go down there for a few days and let him rest.”

“This is what he wants, Nesta. He’s volunteered.” Rhys’ response is like an ash arrow to her gut.

“And why would he volunteer to do this assignment and be away from his family for so long if he was genuinely happy, Rhysand?” The room falls silent and the remnants of the meal she’s so thoughtfully made is ash on her tongue.

He’s not happy. That word, once vocalized, is hard for her to break from her thoughts. Azriel is unhappy.

It's her fault.

She grips the fork in her hand so tight the metal bends. It’s her fault because she read his intentions wrong on solstice. He is avoiding their family because she made things so awkward between them that he can’t bear to be in the same room as her. Nesta glances at her direction as if she can sense that feeling of worthlessness creeping into Elain’s body. Before Nesta can say anything, Cassian places his hand in hers.

“You’re right, Nes. We need to find out what’s going on with Az. I’ll ask Mor to visit him and get him to work through it. If anyone can get through to him, it’s Mor.”

And there was that feeling again. The feeling of a heart shattering, her lungs struggling to expand as her friends begin to plan for the intervention of the male who she so loved, even if he wanted nothing to do with her.

———————

Azriel was many things, within the last year or so, he’d resolved to adding foolish to his attributes. Foolish for thinking that he could be loved for the male he was, foolish for thinking he had any right to the happiness he saw in the faces of his brothers, and foolish to think that he could be hers.

It plagued him daily, the pull to a female that belonged to another. That he was not deemed worthy by the Cauldron of the female that held his heart, but that one of the sons of Autumn was.

She belongs to no one but herself. His shadows, his only companions, whisper.

It was a small mercy that she seemed as uninterested in her mate as her mate is with her. That she was once so willing to spend time with him despite being mated to someone else. That she was once happy to be his friend.

And now, they were nothing.

That thought buried deep inside of him, burrowed into his bones and tore through his limbs.

So he cut himself out of her world. He threw himself into his work. He trudged through the tunnels under the Night Court and pretended that he was keeping his family safe from the Daglan, when in reality, he was avoiding them.

It was another grueling pass through the tunnels. His eyes slowly adjusting from the change in light when he stepped out of the dark and into the quiet grasses surrounding the opening to the tunnels that have become his tomb. He had promised to wait a week to return to his work, but the ache in his chest had him packed and ready to continue his mission only 3 days after his last excursion. After a week of fighting through the tunnels, sliding Truthteller through the folds of the various beasts that inhabited the chasms below, his exhaustion was threatening to take his knees out from under him.

So he gathered what little strength he had left, and flew himself to the House of Wind.

And it was a mistake.

Nesta stood in the middle of the training pit, arms crossed. The rest of the priestesses were long gone by the early-afternoon. Precisely why he had chosen this time to fly back to the house, a feeble attempt to hide from everyone. He landed with a little less grace than intended, and as he took a glance at Nesta, he could have sworn that the silver flames that had been given back to The Cauldron to save her sister were still present in her eyes as she stared back at him disapprovingly.

“So you’re volunteering for these tunnel missions, huh?”

Azriel sighed. He learned long ago that arguing with Nesta was futile, that she would never let him go without a word.

“My schedule is open.” He shrugged absently.

“The hels it is, Az!” She bellowed, looking him up and down for a sign of…what exactly?

“Are you hurt?” She asked, this time with a gentleness not many would associate with the accomplished warrior, Lady Death.

“I’m fine.”

She continued to observe him, not completely believing he was all well and good. She noted his tired eyes, his rigid shoulders.

“What’s going on, Az? You’re like a ghost, never staying long enough to rest. Barely managing to function. This is so unlike you—-“ it pained him to interrupt, but the unworthiness creeped into his chest at her care for him.

“—this is me, Nes. It’s been me for 540 years. You’ve only glimpsed a small part of my life. I’ve always been like this.”

“That’s not true and you know it.” She says through her teeth, the frustration evident in her voice, in her posture. Azriel bows his head in a movement meant to placate the female before him. She sighs, and with a voice far calmer than she’s treated him with thus far speaks.

“She’s a ghost, too.”

He knows who she’s talking about immediately. And he dares not let her know that he’s affected by those words. He swallows the lump in his throat and moves to go around her. She stops him with her palm to his chest, right where his heart should be.

“I don’t know what’s happened between you two, but I know that the last time I’ve seen her smile, her real smile, was when you were the one to put it on her face.” The hole in his chest is infinitely bigger as Nesta moves her hand and places it gently on his arm.

“Be present, Az. We love you. She—loves you.”

Az is sure that Nesta means he is loved in a friendly way, but the idea of being loved by Elain Archeron makes his heart beat a little faster in his chest. He nods his head, words failing him.

“Everyone is coming here for dinner tonight.” Nesta states firmly. “Get cleaned up and meet us in the dining room at 5.” She shuffles past him to reach the door to the house and smiles mischievously at him behind her.

There’s no hiding from them now. Nesta will hunt him down until he appears. So he plans to arrive for dinner even as his brain tells him to run.

——————

Elain stares at her sister as she repeats the itinerary for the day, eyes wide as she questions Feyre over the plan to “meet Nesta and Cassian at the House for dinner.”

Elain is confused. Never has Nesta invited them to the House for dinner. Tea, on occasion. Training, frequently. Never dinner.

“What’s the occasion?” She asks, trying not to let her nerves show.

“She just misses us.” Feyre smiles, and although Elain is suspicious, she gives her little sister a genuine smile.

“Sounds delightful.”

And if her nerves intensify as her sister’s mate puts her down gently on the balcony of the House of Wind a few hours later, she doesn’t let it show, because she can absolutely scent the one person she is anxious to see the most.

Azriel is here.

And it takes all of her mother’s etiquette training to hold her head up high and enter the dining room to see his gorgeous, but somber face. A face she’s conflicted to commit to memory. He looks so tired, she muses. And despite the ache in her chest, the unworthiness that her mind flashes into her skull, seeing him is like breathing air after drowning, and she can’t look away.

Dinner commences and for the first time in months, the smile on her face is real. Everyone she loves is at the table, Mor and Feyre chatting animatedly with each other. Amren, Rhys, and Varian are lost in their own conversation about the Summer Court. Elain chances a look at the glorious Shadowsinger across from her. He’s impressive as usual, but she notes that his shadows are moving lithe around him, as if they are also exhausted from his travels. His eyes meet hers, and that warmth in her chest that only he can provide blossoms under his gaze. And she smiles, for real, and she thinks she sees the corner of his own mouth move up slightly.

It’s only when the meal is done and the House takes the dishes away that Rhys and Feyre take Nyx home to bed. Amren and Varian go back to Amren’s apartment, and Azriel excuses himself to finally get some rest. The rest of the family moves to the sitting room to continue to chat and Elain sits with them, appearing to listen to their conversation, but barely hearing what is being said. Her thoughts are helplessly on the male asleep somewhere in this house.

“Elain, would you like to stay here tonight?” Nesta asks with a beautiful smile on her face that captures Elain’s attention. She points a finger at her mate and says, “It’s easier for this old man to fly in the daytime. His eyesight is going poorly, and Mor is too drunk to take herself home, let alone you.” Nesta nods her head towards the beautiful blonde already falling asleep on the sofa across from her. Cassian scoffs.

“539 is NOT old.” He crows indignantly. The sisters erupt into laughter but Elain can’t help but think that her sister is only asking for her to stay because it’ll make things easier, and not because she wants her there. As the others begin to move towards their bedrooms, Nesta stops Elain with a gentle hand on her arm.

“I know I haven’t been the kind of sister you deserve, Elain. I want to make that up to you. I want to have breakfast with you tomorrow. I want to sit and talk to you about your life. I want to show you that I’m trying, that I’m here for you.” Elain’s chest expands with hope and a love she can only have for Nesta.

“I would like that very much.” She smiles. And Nesta offers to show her her bedroom for the night. The two walk arm in arm as they move through the house until they come upon the door of a room at the far end of the hallway. The room she’s given is warm and inviting, with a giant bed covered in lilac sheets. There’s a fireplace in the corner that is not in use due to the late spring warmth, but the double doors opening to the balcony overlooking Velaris is the crowning feature. She bids Nesta goodnight, with a promise to meet in the dining room for breakfast, and immediately heads for the balcony after Nesta shuts the bedroom door behind her.

What Elain doesn’t expect, is to end up sharing a balcony with the Shadowsinger himself.

And it appears he’s just as surprised as she is.

“H—hi” she breathes. Taking in his tall form in the shadows of the night. He’s seated on the edge of the balcony’s railing, one leg hanging over the edge while the knee of his other leg is bent for balance on the railing. His glorious wings are tight against his back, the bottoms on either side of the balcony. His hazel eyes, the ones that torment her in her dreams, are wide.

“I—I’m sorry. I didn’t know you— or anyone, would be here—on the balcony, I mean.” She stammers as she looks down at her feet in embarrassment. He’s still quiet in front of her, and she curses the fact that the Cauldron didn’t boil her alive when it had the chance.

“I—I’ll just go…” she says and begins to move. She’s vaguely aware of him sitting up straighter than before.

“No, please— don’t.” His deep voice is a whisper that her fae ears only hear because she’s desperate to hear his voice again. She wouldn’t miss his first words to her in months for anything in this world. She swallows, unsure of how to proceed. Any courage she might have deep within her, sputtering.

“I don’t want you to leave.” He says louder, with conviction, and that hole in her chest feels the fullest it’s been in months.

“I don’t want to leave, either.” She says confidently. Her courage soars with the vibrancy of his words.

“I miss you.” He adds gently, finally meeting her gaze, and she’s at a loss. This male who has captivated her body and spirit for years now. Whom she thought was angry with her. Who walked away from her on solstice and didn’t look back.

“Then why?” She whispers back, a silver tear escaping and trailing down her pale cheek. The question is open ended, but he knows what she means.

“Because I am unworthy of you.” He admits. The self loathing in his voice matches her own every time she thinks about him.

“Of course you are. If anything, I am unworthy of you.”

“Never.” He replies instantly, but she waves him off. Moving to his side, eyes peering at his form under the stars, tears falling down both cheeks now.

“You are kind, Azriel. You are gentle, and you are courageous. You’ve fought on the battlefield, and you protect the people of this court, of this family. I bake bread, watch Nyx, and plant seeds in the garden. You deserve so much more than I can offer you.”

The air between them crackles with the intensity of his gaze. He moves, and before she can loose a breath, his scarred hands are wiping the tears from her skin.

“How can you not see how incredible you are, Elain?” He speaks softly, rubbing his fingers back and forth over her cheeks. “You put the needs of others in front of your own. You bake bread, watch Nyx, and build gardens to bring comfort and beauty to those around you. In a world of war and bloodshed, you are reminder that there are things out there so beautiful it’s worth fighting for.” She gasps at the depth of his stare. “You are everything I could ever hope for, but I can’t have you.” The words he’s spoken break something within her. Her hands land on his own on her cheeks, and she uses them to push his away, to push him away. Confusion gracing her features.

“And why can’t you have me? Why have you shut me out all of these months?”

He thinks carefully at how to respond. It’s in his best interest to lie, the rage in her beautiful brown eyes cuts him further than any blade and he pauses for a moment.

Rhys will mist him for revealing the truth. He’s disobeying his order right now, just being alone with the female that possesses his heart and soul. But he finds that lying to her is impossible. That he would rather be misted than lie to the female before him.

“Because I have been ordered to stay away from you.” He says with deep remorse.

The earth ceases to rotate for Elain. Her mouth opens, but nothing comes out. She stares in horror and Azriel wonders if he’s made a grave mistake.

“Rhys?” She whispers. He nods.

“But—why?” The devastation in her voice is palpable, and he wants nothing more than to fly to the river house, despite his exhaustion, and hit his brother in his pretty face.

“You have a mate, Elain.” She scoffs. Ready to deny such a thing. He weighs his words carefully before he continues. “Our—involvement could have severe consequences for the Night Court.”

“What consequences?” She asks, in an eerily calm voice that he doesn’t recognize. He takes a deep breath and prepares himself for her ire.

“The Autumn Court has an archaic tradition that allows for a mate to call for a blood duel against any male that threatens his mating bond. Lucien or Beron have the right to challenge me to that blood duel if you and I—“

Elain looks up into his eyes, horrified at the realization that this is what is keeping them apart.

“—but I would fight for you. Rhys knows it. And I would win, because there would be no chance in this lifetime that I would give up a life with you if I had the choice. But if I were to kill Lucien in a blood duel—“ he pauses. “Beron can enact revenge by calling for war against the Night Court.”

She’s quiet for a long time. Her chest, that was finally full only recently, is hollowed out and bleeding down to her toes. Rhys has deemed them unworthy of each other. Have deemed them unworthy of his protection. Unworthy of the Night Court’s protection. She steps forward, so that her breath mixes with his. He’s stunned for a moment, peering down into her face, determination and understanding amongst the many emotions crossing her features.

“I would rather have you in secret, than not at all.” She says so quietly that only the two of them can hear and places her hand on his chest where his heart beats against it. He’s dumbfounded for a moment.

She’s choosing him?

“Are you sure?” He whispers just as quietly, so that only her and the Mother can hear him.

“Yes.”

The word is barely out of her mouth when his lips meet hers in a kiss that stops the world around them. It’s soft and gentle, just like they are, but Elain swears that this feeling in her chest, at finally tasting the male of her dreams, is the same one her sisters have so lovingly described about their mates.

How can this not be it? They both muse to themselves.

His lips move slowly against her own, savoring her taste, committing it to memory. She has chosen him. She is willing to risk war and their family’s loyalty for him. He will never understand why, but he’s too far gone to talk her out of it.

They stay on the balcony until the early morning hours, touching, tasting, and chasing away the demon of unworthiness inside of each other. Because even if their family or the Night Court didn’t need them, they found out that night that they needed each other.

Fin (or is it?)

[call-me-kat-astrophe]

❛ thief of my heart ❜

The day Arthur Morgan met the love of his life was the day you robbed him.

The Morgan man huffs in frustration, grumbling under his breath about the damn heat inside the carriage as it rode out of Saint Denis, headed towards Rhodes where his father had arranged for him to meet a potential suitor.

This wasn't the first time he was forced to meet a stranger with the possibility of making her his wife and it more than likely won't be the last.

He loathes it, despises feeling like a prize pony that his father is desperate to put out to stud just because he's greedy for more money. Marrying into a family even wealthier than his own would be good for them, help lift their status in society even higher and make them a little richer.

Arthur didn't care about money, not in the way his father did. All Lyle Morgan ever did was chase the dollar since before Arthur was born.

His mother, Beatrice, on the other hand, was a kind, gentle woman who understood Arthur's feelings about such demeaning arrangements - but no matter how much she tried, she could not sway Lyle's mind from forcing his son to take a wife.

The weather was always humid and dry in Saint Denis but out here in the outskirts of the city was even worse. Arthur observes the passing scenery, admiring the beauty of the area despite the heat making his suit cling to him, the way the mist lingered over the land, shadowing the tall trees.

His eyes zero in on a buck, watching as it raises its head, ears twitching as it hears the carriage rolling by. Not taking any chances, the buck turns and dashes away, disappearing into the woods.

Arthur's heart clenches with longing. He'd never known much freedom in his life. His father ruled the family with an iron fist, controlling all they did and how they portrayed themselves, always looking for an angle to climb the societal ladder ever higher.

The few times he'd been allowed to ride his horse outside the city he'd had to be escorted by guards, making sure he didn't go too far for too long.

As the carriage rode on further, entering an area shaded by the cover of large trees and overgrown shrubbery, that's when three men appear from seemingly nowhere, guns pointed at them, shouting for the driver to stop.

Arthur's heart was hammering in his chest, the air turning palpable with tension and terror.

One of them approached the carriage as the other two wrestled the driver and guard down from their seats, ensuring they didn't make any sudden movements.

The door opened and a head popped in, gun raised.

Arthur's heart skipped a beat, surprise filling him.

It was a woman.

A very woman attractive, he could tell even with the mask covering the lower half of your face, leaving only your eyes on display.

"Remain calm, sir," you drawl - your voice sending a rush of heat through him despite the situation - and lift the gun to his chest, "and no one has to get hurt."

"Alright, miss," Arthur raises his hands in surrender. "Just don't shoot."

As Arthur climbs out of the carriage and stands on the side of the road with the driver and the guard, watching you and your two companions take the few belongings in the lock box, his eyes never leave you. His heart is still racing, thumping erratically against his ribs, but for different reasons now.

He'd never met an outlaw, let alone a female one. He didn't expect someone so... beautiful. Despite your rough and harsh life you lead, you're the prettiest goddamn thing he'd ever seen in his life, including all the southern belles his father had tried to set him up with; none of them held a candle to you.

As if sensing his gaze, your eyes flicker up to meet his once more before you mount your horse, taking off after the other two outlaws.

From that day on, he knows deep down, his life will never be the same.

He didn't expect to see you again, but he dreamed he would. Your face is burned into his mind, your eyes, the beautiful shade of them. There was such a vivaciousness about you that most people in Saint Denis lacked. You were so alive and clearly unapologetic in who you were, and something about that drew him in like a moth to a flame.

He'd stay awake for hours into the night, sat at his desk, oil lamp burning away as he sketches image after image of you, some without the mask, trying to imagine the slope of your nose and the shape of your lips.

One day he heads to the post office with a small stack of letters his father insisted (ordered) he wrote and sent off to more potential suitors, asking for meetings. He hands them to the courier with a sickly feeling in his stomach when, out of the corner of his eye, he notices a poster hanging on the wall behind him.

WANTED ALIVE for robbery, murder, stealing a stagecoach, theft & looting.

Highly dangerous and armed. Approach with great caution.

Arthur pays little attention to the four figure reward, all too focused on the image of you. It's a rough sketch, clearly done from memory, but it was you - without a mask.

His eyes greedily drink it in, and then, before he can convince himself otherwise, he quickly rips the poster off the wall and tucks it into his pocket, swiftly leaving the post office as inconspicuously as possible.

Later that week, when his father leaves for a business meeting in New York, Arthur quietly slips away into the stables where he mounts his Arabian steed and rides as fast as he can out of Saint Denis before any guards were alerted to his disappearance.

He'd studied your bounty poster more clearly since he'd swiped it from the post office. It said you were last seen around the outskirts of a town called Valentine, so that's where he heads to.

When he arrives into the town - a small cattle town, by the looks and smell of it, mud and shit everywhere - he receives many curious and suspicious looks, no doubt wondering why someone like him was in a place like this. He clearly didn't belong, in his polished suit, sitting in the saddle of his pristine Arabian. He knows his appearance screams 'wealth' and suddenly, he wishes he'd thought to change into something more inconspicuous and chosen a less expensive looking horse.

"Well, lookie what we got here." Arthur turns in the direction of the raspy voice and finds a rough looking man leaning against the lamppost, twirling a knife in his hand, causing his stomach to sink with dread. "I think you got lost, mister. This ain't no place for a city slicker."

Arthur swallows thickly. "I'm not looking for trouble, sir. Just passing through."

The man, face weathered and scarred, grins an ugly grin, putting his rotten and yellowed teeth on display. "Why don't you show me what you got in that saddlebag o' yours, pretty boy." It wasn't a request.

As he reaches a trembling hand down to his saddlebag, he almost misses the sight of a figure coming up behind the man and slamming the butt of their pistol into the back of his head, knocking him unconscious. Arthur stares in shock for a moment at the man's still form, crumpled on the muddy ground, before lifting his gaze to his saviour - only to meet a pair of all too familiar eyes.

"Howdy, stranger," you drawl smoothly, corners of your lips curling up in a half smirk. "Funny seein' you again."

. . .

Many years had passed since that day in Valentine when you'd saved Arthur Morgan's hide - ironically after robbing him when you'd first met weeks prior (he's never let you live it down).

You'd tried to shake him, you had, but there was something about the man that shattered your usual defenses and made you want to open yourself up to him in a way you'd never done with anyone before.

Arthur Morgan had burrowed under your skin and made a home in your heart permanently, unwilling to let you push him away (and boy, did you try at first).

He'd been willing to give everything up for you, his life of privilege, his wealth, his family, everything. 'None of it means a damn thing if I can't be with you' he'd said, so he walked away and never looked back.

Eventually, over time, the Van der Linde gang slowly began to crumble, the law closing in ever more, leading to several members either getting killed or leaving.

It was a hard decision for you to make, having grown up in the gang, but you couldn't bear the thought of the man you loved getting hurt because of the life you'd led, so you force yourself to walk away from the outlaw life - the only way of living you'd ever known - and move far away into the countryside with your husband, settling down on a small ranch.

Arthur had even managed to convince you to have children, which you were hesitant to do because of your past and the risks it still carried of coming back to haunt you, but you knew in your heart you wanted to start a family too and so, you did.

Two children and a son later, and you and Arthur couldn't have been happier or more content.

Upon reflection, it was safe to say that both of you were incredibly glad you had robbed his stagecoach that fateful day all those years ago.

requested ♡ hope you enjoyed, anon!

[ pics in collage do not belong to me - all were found on pinterest ]

[inkofthebrain]

Imperial

[ Paul Atreides x F!Reader ] 1307 words

Paul Atreides, Duke of Arakkis, takes the hand of the Emperor’s eldest daughter for the throne, yet neither are pleased. They know they must learn to be civil, but what will it cost them…

Tags: post-Dune 2, strays from book canon, no use of y/n, dune typical everything, Corinno!Reader, slow burn, enemies to lovers kind of? ARRAIGNED MARRIAGE TROPE EXCEPT BOTH PARTIES ARE PISSY ABOUT IT, not proofread LOL.

Warnings: Dune typical themes, motifs, and actions

A/n: I plan on writing a prequel at some point. This is most definitely going to be multi part

Next chapter

Masterlist

One———

Your father stood beside you as the door of our ship slowly lowered, meeting the grassy ground of Caladan with a deep thud.

The air was cold, crisp, and smelt of the sea. The same sea you could hear smashing against the cliff side with the help of the impenetrable wind.

A fog lingered in the air as you watched four guards step out forward and as you follow, the Atredies household seem to rise out of the ground as you walked towards the estate.

Standing tall, cold, still and terrified you watch as the Duke of Atreides, and soon the Imperium, limps towards your father, bloodied knife in hand.

“The life debt has been payed” Irulan, your little sister, pushes out.

Your head snaps to look at her and instantly you speak, only thinking to spare your family

“Spare our fathers life and I will be your bride. The throne will be yours” you speak, looking the young Atredies in the eyes. Anger, chaos, and rage is all you can see within them.

Hidden behind layers of metal blinds and chain mail, your eyes went to the body of Feyd-Rautha. Still and cold. This is the first time anyone has seen him so… at peace.

Your body shakes when the Duke of Atreides drives his foot into the ground in-front of the Emperor. A horrifying silence fell over the room as he slowly outstretches his hand, the only sound in the space being the hot Arakkis wind and Paul’s labored breathing.

Fear. That is all you feel as you watch your father hesitantly take the Dukes left hand and begin the decent to his knees. How could this be happening? The imperium is going to swallow this naive boy whole and take your whole family down with him.

The second your fathers lips touched the cold metal everyone dropped to their knees, including Irulian. All who stood were you, Paul, and a fremen who soon stormed out. You took a deep breath.

Once you arrived inside Paul and your father disappeared to discuss the implications of this agreement. The transfer of your ownership.

You were left standing in-front of a large window facing the cliff side, an Atreides guard standing a few feet behind you. You loathed him already, you hated his very existence. This false prophet. As the waves crashed against the jagged cliff you tried to savor your remaining moment of pseudo-freedom. Alas, women are never free in this world.

“You are requested for dinner, your highness” A member of the staff stammered out. You let out a small hum before turning around with a polite smile. From the moment you were born this is what you were made for. A political marriage. One of convenience. You stepped forward.

“Of course”

———

Paul was already there, seated at the head of the table. He did not look up on your entrance, but he did acknowledge your presence. A small nod was the only thing he offered as a greeting, his focus being on your father who was discussing trade routes.

You took a seat next to your father as you waited for the arrival of Lady Jessica. Hands in lap you picked at your nails until you could no longer, a rage burning within you.

Soon she entered before taking a seat on Paul’s right. Their blue eyes were captivating, despite their departure from the desert planet.

The wedding was to be held on the home of the Atredies, Caladan. Every and all representatives of the Great Houses and other branches of the Imperium were to be present.

“It is an event of extreme significance” Lady Jessica spoke, “we have 4 weeks before the wedding where we will then depart back to Arakkis shortly there after.”

You took a deep breath as you watched her, your eyes occasionally drifting to Paul.

“I believe it is time for a proper introduction.” Jessica said looking at Paul. She says your full name and motions to you with her hand, “Lady Corrino is the firstborn child of late-emperor Shaddam, and the heiress of the imperium.”

“My lord.” You bid him a nod of acknowledgment before averting your eyes to the table. You thought that if you stared at it long enough you would wake up from this night terror.

A nod was his response to your greeting as he looked away from you, turning back towards the window. In the distance, he could just make out the edge of the caladan sea, the endless gray waves lapping up against the estate's cliffside property.

Beside him, he could hear his mother speak to you again. "I trust your journey was not too terrible."

“It was pleasant. Nothing out of the ordinary.” Your father spoke and your gut churned. The normality of this exchange is twisting your mind in ways you cannot imagine. The politeness, the facade, it all made you sick.

"Good." A simple statement. Paul felt no motivation to continue the conversation even before it had started. His mother continued on with her own chatter with you and your father.

"But for now, I will let and paul get to know each other a bit more while I escort you back to your ship." Jessica smiled, taking the cue to step away. she gave him a pointed look before she left, however-- be polite. A trade of ownership, you have been successfully dumped at the doorstep of the Atredies and once your father left this planet you would be at their mercy.

A sickening silence fell over the room. Paul glanced away from you, not wishing to return any look. Instead, his eyes searched through the rain-soaked windows, seeking for something to do besides idle chat. This was a waste of time.

“I am as dissatisfied about this as you are my lord” You boldly state. Not caring for any reprimanding or impoliteness. You were filled with rage and nothing more. Blinded by your distasteful and undesirable future.

He raised an eyebrow in your direction, glancing back at you. Silence lingered between them for a moment before he finally spoke. "and what gave it away?"

“Political Marriages are always a fuss”

A soft chuckle. he had to give you respect for that. It was the first time in your conversation with him as of yet that you were not just spouting nonsense. "No, I have to agree with you on this point. There is nothing convenient about being wed for political purposes."

It was almost humorous, in a way. He was stuck with you just as you were with him. “Two strangers tied together by duty.” There was just a hint of a sigh at the end of his words, he sounded just a little bitter. Paul’s eyes flicked off in a random direction, finding no real distraction from you and he was stuck within the room with you.

“Tell me about yourself." His voice was flat as he asked the question, it was more out of curiosity than any deep interest.

“I’m educated in Imperium law, structure, history…” you drone on about all of your prospects. Hobbies you were forced to have as a child to prepare you for this future.

"you're a woman of talents, it seems." He says

It was better to have a pretty fiancé who also did not seem like she needed to be supervised all the time. At least it meant his duties were lessened, to a degree. He could focus on other things, rather than wasting a moment worrying after you.

“Shall I walk you to your room, my lady? it was long journey and you must be worn out." His voice held a tone of kindness only one in high society is trained to have. Superficially sincere. You wanted to vomit.

“That would be lovely thank you” you smile

———

Next chapter

[sarcasmisavirtue]

This is a hot take even though I’m not sure why this isn’t that widespread… Regulus WAS NOT some poor innocent baby who was rebellious and righteous and soft in need of protection or whatever. And the characterization of him as such and erasure of him being a VERY WILLING death eater is fucking lame

Now, I like his character as much as the next person. BUT…It almost feels like the fandom took Sirius, Remus, and Lily’s personalities then fiddled with them a little, smacked them together, made him all forced and shit, and topped it off with just giving Jily’s pre-existing dynamic to Jegulus.

Is Jegulus interesting to me? Yes. But I loathe how it’s portrayed a lot of the time. And don’t get me started on the cheating on Lily plotlines and the demonizing of my girl in a lot of fics/lesbianizing to make it work. I don’t mind bi Lily. But making her lesbian just feels…Weird? A key part of her storyline IS her (debatable) love for James and eventually Harry. Even if she didn’t like James at first. And people make the argument “Oh it’s so misogynistic to have her life center around how much she loves her kid/husband!!” As if taking away that autonomy by erasing that part of her entirely isn’t because women ‘aren’t allowed to truly enjoy being a wife and mother’ and therefore misogynistic by demonizing a woman having the autonomy to enjoy ‘stereotypically feminine roles’. And they’re the ones limiting this canonically very cool and badass character to that by making said argument.

Could go on a rant about the characterization of Lily too but this isn’t about her

Also im not adding that to say Jily is the perfect end all be all ship. I could talk about Jily by itself any day because there’s so much to it. BUT, it’s still relevant.

In general, i just think justice should be served to Regulus + Lily. Love them both but some of yall do them DIRTY.

Regulus was a bigot. Point blank. He BELIEVED IN VOLDEMORT. Point blank.

And realistically speaking, it’s not even HINTED he betrayed Voldemort because he GAF about muggles. It was all about Kreacher. Which in and of itself is really interesting.

He was a death eater. He committed war crimes, probably torture, and murdered many people. He was in Voldemort’s inner circle.

He was not your UwU soft boy kitten who must be protected. He CANONICALLY was eager to be a death eater. Proud of it. He was the perfect pureblood boy. So many interesting things can be done with that but instead people decide to just butcher him and make him frankly very boring

Also no, he WOULD NOT get along with Remus/Lily. Lily was a muggleborn. Remus was a poor halfblood. Regulus was a death eater. And no, Regulus WOULD NOT support Wolfstar whether he was homophobic or not. Because, again, Remus was a poor halfblood.

Also he probably wouldn’t have a big beef with Snape like some of yall act like he would. Would he probably dislike him for being a poor halfblood? Yes. But he WOULD NOT GAF about him tormenting muggle born students unless it was for reasons OTHER than their blood status. (Like writing him to think it’s pathetic of him to hex first years when he’s much older. Etc.) Just because he was good to house elves (namely Kreacher. Though if it was on a wider scale isn’t really concrete to my knowledge and you can do whatever you want with it) doesn’t mean he was good to muggle borns.

I could go on a rant about Regulus’s character for days but like moral of the story

Absolutely hate how much people butcher him

Let Regulus be a bad person with nuance and his own character/personality beyond offbrand Remus, Sirius if he took the dark mark and was a little bit quieter, and the replacement for Lily

ALSO, he WAS NOT some sort of fucking pariah? The only reason he would’ve been isolated was because of Sirius, at best. But I doubt they’d be out here bullying heir black. Especially because he has ties to the Malfoy and Lestrange families via Bellatrix and Narcissa.

Also the fact he was allowed into Voldy’s inner circle ALONE says a lot about his talent, personality, and general capabilities

ALSO ALSO the fact that they use him to replace Peter as the fourth Marauder.

They WOULD NOT fuck with each other let’s be for real 😭

Like I said I like Jegulus but not how it’s portrayed 99% of the time. Like no one would ever be finding out about that shit. EVER. And it sure as hell wouldn’t be public. James also wouldn’t have cheated on Lily if they were together. Also, Jegulus wouldn’t have lasted.

People always have to tweak James and Regulus’s characters to make it work the way they portray it and that’s really telling

[glitteryinknotes]

Astarion & his life before Cazador

After seeing a few different takes on it, my thoughts have been circling around Astarion's pre - vampiric life and what it must have been like to shape him into the person we know, behind the trauma and his attempts to hide the truth of his feelings and vulnerability inside him.

After days of musings, I've tried to gather my thoughts into a single analysis of a sort, both on his general mindset and his life as the person buried in the graveyard as Astarion Ancunin.

What can be said - disappointing as it is - is that in his life he most likely was what can be tactfully referred to as "an asshole". He held a magistrate's position, but most likely didn't give a damn about anything other than luxuries this position provided him with and the life of utter debauchery he was given on a silver plate. I don't think he's ever had to really fend for anything nor work towards anything, or deal with any kind of problems either on personal or any other level. What's worse - he probably had his part in some form of severe oppression of the common people, otherwise why would he get jumped and beaten to death (his attackers clearly aimed for his death, not just a lesson to be taught) in his own city.

(I would like to mark at that point that my further thoughts are not an excuse for him being a shitty person. If he was a dick indeed, that's on him)

Astarion is, fundamentally, as others have pointed out before me, a rather selfish person - or more specifically, self - absorbed to the point of selfishness. That's one of his core vices.

However.

He isn't an evil person either. He is capable of compassion and taking interest in other people. He is fiercely loyal to those he loves (that being Tav) and capable of consideration, pride and joy for those he considers friends. He is very slow to trust (understandably so) or accept kindness - but once he does, he remains true to the people who granted him those gifts. His confession scenes are the best proof of that - where his consience, still intact, is eating him up as he can't stomach leading on the only person he knows who treated him well.

And as much as he adores his own charms, beauty, pleasure, fine things, there is deep within him the yearning for something more than that. He isn't truly sated by all of those shallow things, nor is he pushed to any kind of growth within them. This yearning is something he is barely able to recognise and understand himself, let alone pursue it. But it's there.

Astarion's character and behavioral patterns must have been shaped before. The trauma from Cazador's enslavement broke him, scarred his psyche to unimaginable extent, exposed his worse qualities and drove him to become a shell of who he could have been, leaving him utterly out of touch with himself, burdened with indescribable guilt and self - loathing, stuck in desperate survival mindset. But his inner self was still shaped somewhere and somehow.

I've come to imagine that his pre-vampiric life wasn't really a happy one. It was undoubtedly rich, loud, unspoiled by any hardships, but fundamentally empty. Without any semblance of meaning, without any true kinship with anyone or any genuine emotional intimacy. Even if he lived like there was no tomorrow and nothing in the world mattered but his pleasure - deep down, maybe he knew he wasn't truly satisfied and that no amount of shameless, drunk debauchery would ever fullfill this emptiness. Perhaps he craved something more after all, something he hadn't been taught how to seek.

Now how could it have come to that?

He was most likely born in some wealthy local family (or one with considerable influence in the city) that held the position of the magistrate for generations, hence his lifestyle and being granted the title at such a young age for elven standards (he was 39 at the time of his presumed death; i personally would equal that to no more than 30 years by human standards, more like middle 20s even). He was obviously somebody's son - but I don't personally believe he ever experienced the healthy, genuine love a child should be provided, he strikes me as a type of person who never quite had a good, trusted role model to look up to, no one to call him out on his vices and lovingly steer him into growing into a possibly best version of himself. No one to check him on his selfish instincts and show him that there may be a more rewarding way of going through the world. That kind of thing usually happens through some sort of neglect and lack of sufficient care; my guess is that he never had an actual meaningful bond with his parents, was raised mostly by hired caretakers and overall in his childhood didn't experience the much needed selfless love & care from emotionally close people, the kind of love that subconsciously makes us believe that there is good and kindness in the world and that it's worth the effort on our part.

Whatever came in his elder years couldn't have been better, and it certainly didn't make him a better person. Some amount of power, money, countless pleasures, all of that he so adores but which doesn't ultimately fullfill him nor make him truly value and appreciate himself on a deeper level. And after his death - he was most likely mourned in some way, but not necessarily missed by anyone and was quickly forgotten. Perhaps his parents remembered - but they too eventually moved on.

What leads me to believe that?

The most interesting thing about Astarion's final love declaration to Tav is that he says he feels "seen" with them. It's one of the most beautiful things we people can offer each other - the feeling of being "seen" and safe in that sight, understood, felt, valued. That can only happen when the other person knows us well enough to be aware of all the ugly qualities we possess, but is just as aware of our capability for all the good ones, and so, in the greater picture sees the better version of ourselves (sometimes even better than we ourselves can picture) and that vision, when truly caring for the other person, we trust and want to live up to. By seeing ourselves the way our loved one sees us, we allow ourselves to grow and be better.

I don't think Astarion ever had that kind of person. I don't believe that he ever, in his pre - vampiric life, experienced a kind of love and trust needed for such a feeling - being "seen", and wanting to be seen as someone good, worthy, valued. Even more - I don't think he ever had any kind of true friend or companion. And that kind of emptiness deeply cripples a person, no matter who they are.

The tragic thing is - Tav may not be the first person to show Astarion kindness and care after years of torment from Cazador, they may be the first selflessly caring and kind person in his entire life. Even if he doesn't remember anything about his previous life, emotionally, he doesn't even seem to recognise the feeling of being cared for, considered, valued, appreciated for who he is, he doesn't instinctively recognise emotional closeness of any kind. Tav may be his first ever true companion, confidant, someone he comes to value and trust enough, that he eventually wants to be the same for them - and be better himself.

Tav may just be the first person to be a selfless and genuinely healthy influence for him, the first person to call him out on shitty behaviour and challenge him, but also to the first one to care. Ever. The first person Astarion comes to care about. The person through whom he learns to care and value more, both others and himself. And the person through whom he learns to love.

I don't believe he ever loved before, nor was he truly loved in the first place. Maybe he never tried, maybe he never dared, maybe he didn't know how to, maybe no one taught him. Tav was the best thing to happen to him in both of his lives.

[lacunammmm]

Dare I ask what are your thoughts on Endeavor? And hell Dabi?both are the most controversial within the Todofam!

He's an author's pet who was coddled immensely by the narrative to the detriment of everyone around him. Dabi's dance was a wonderful moment! Dabi peeled back the truth of hero society and showed that the man they venerated and elevated to the highest station, their number 1 hero rank...was an abuser. That he was just as bad as the hundreds of people he reguarally throws in prison. Or worse, really. A guy who robs banks or steals cars at least doesn't pretend to be anything else. Endeavor put on the airs of a hero while being a monster behind closed doors. Here was a man who bought a woman, bred her for her quirk in an eugenics program, and also abused his family. It's just a shame nobody gave a shit. You'd think this sort of thing would be a massive bomb shell and scandal that would rock an already shaky society to its foundations, right? You'd think that the heroes would be shocked, appalled, and heavily divided about what to do with this information.

Anger, denial, tearful confrontations, a shouting match or two. Lines drawn between people who still support Endeavor and those who think he should be in prison, ASAP. You'd think his colleges and co-workers would be wondering how they never noticed the signs. UA especially. Shoto was a child in their care and he was abused.

Actually, no. All of the people who would normally be moral and ethical people mysteriously had absolutely nothing to say in regards to their number 1 hero being a monster. The civilians were upset with Endeavor not for what he did in the past, but how he failed as a hero. The discussion at the press conference was entirely utilitarian: What can Endeavor the hero do for us? And they accepted his words because he promised to use his power to protect them. That's all they cared about. Our supposed "heroes?" Crickets. I agree with keeping Enji around until the end of the war, by the way. I'm not saying they should have instantly thrown him out. But an angry confrontation where he's cornered by Naomasa and All Might who demand to know if what Dabi said was the truth, and then Enji admits it? Boy would these two have WORDS for Endeavor. If he wasn't an author's pet who gets shielded from real negative backlash. He also didn't really suffer any direct consequences for his actions. People might point to the fact that the war absolutely destroyed his body. Yes, that's what being a hero does. A hero gets hurt. Just look at Mirko, All Might and Bakugo. His injuries were primarily caused by All For One, who didn't care about Dabi beyond using him as a pawn. But guess what? All For One would have tried to kill Endeavor even if Touya had never been born. All For One will destroy anyone who gets in his way...and let me remind you, being the number 1 hero and fighting him counts as getting in his way! It's a similar thing with his fight against the High End Hood. Doctor Garaki would have created Hood, with or without Touya existing. Dabi sicced Hood on Endeavor, but Tomura would have done the same thing if Hood was under his command and he wanted to use him to kill heroes. So the guy getting scarred and mutilated, when that's just what happens when heroes fight top tier threats doesn't land. Social consequences would have been great! The guy built his reputation up for years so seeing his sidekicks tell him: "We respect Endeavor the hero but loath Enji Todoroki, the human. We're all quitting your agency after the war is over." Fantastic! He loses something he actually gives a shit about? Perfect! Instead, the story ends with him having his family (except Natsuo, who also had to talk about how cool Endeavor was as he walked out of his life) and his sidekicks and people also still talk about how he's one of the greatest heroes of all time, and kids in the present day want to be just like him! I'd want to be just like him too, if I was a domestic abuser. Being a wife beater in hero society is great. Just become a hero and cry a bit and everyone will give you a free pass. Including your victims. And I want to also go into how he had the most easy mode redemption ever. Only Natsuo was really against the guy. Shoto was cautious but willing to work with him, including working at his agency. Fuyumi always was on his side. His wife? He bought her a flower and she gaslit herself into thinking he still cared. He spent the entire final war arc running away from his son, and apparently learned absolutely nothing, because when confronted with Touya about to blow up... His big idea is to just fly them both into the sky so they can die together. Luckily for both of them, his victims showed up to save the day. Thank God for Shoto, who always comes in clutch to clean up this guy's mess. Bravo, Atonement Man. We Watched You fail miserably at every available opportunity. Best written character in the series, by the way, according to his fans.

I'd also like to talk about his completely unearned power ups. Is there any reason he's able to withstand blows from a high end nomu with super strength, including getting struck in the head, and then falling a distance further than SKYSCRAPERS and hit the ground... And then just get back up afterwards? You know, something similar happened to Midnight but she got murdered by randoms right after. How is it that he allegedly trained himself to his limit to the point where he felt he couldn't progress further...but then he's able to just learn how to fly by seeing Bakugo do it? This implies his quirk had hidden potential and more things it could do the whole time. He never reached his limit at all. So either the guy is an idiot who can only think of hitting harder and using more power, which isn't the case, looking at how he teaches. Or the author decided he needed an upgrade and didn't think of how this makes him look. Why does he go from a guy who Kamino Arc All For One would regard as an ant, to being capable of killing AFO, a man who nearly killed All Might, twice? The same All For One who could keep up with an All Might that is able to launch over 300 punches in the space of seconds, which is how he defeated the USJ Nomu? I guess Endeavor is fast as shit, huh?

Make no mistake, Endeavor killed All For One. The guy was as good as dead and injected himself with a drug in desperation to live a little while longer. Damn, All Might should have really taken Enji with him the first time he fought AFO, huh? Then they'd have totally kicked the guy's ass. Yoichi is probably face palming right about now that the quirk devil could have just been killed by a random dude who trained really hard and had a good quirk. And the everlasting love and glaze of his author, of course. As for Dabi? I slandered him already. https://www.tumblr.com/lacunammmm/777852677278384128/dabi-was-the-most-disastrous-thing-to-ever-happen

[crynburne]

tbh hyj is an awful fucking dad and here's my 13 reasons why (under the cut)

(there's actually a lot i don't recommend reading allat)

anyway like I'd say he's probably? a good brother because I'm not complaining about him rasing hyh. i think he was actually pretty good considering their circumstances. before dungeons there seemed to be a good work/life balance, it's not like he'd work 24/7 and never see hyh and they probably spent a lot of time together and emotionally they were really close, as for their financial situation i don't think hyh cared about it much, if he could spend time with hyj he was happy and content and hyj gave him that time, attention and love because hyh needed that and hyj knew that

sure hyh was suppressing himself at that time but he seemed just fine with even that, there was also the point about hyj fitting his brother into his own mold but that was just teaching hyh what he himself knew and how to live with the best intentions in mind, because he wanted his brother to live good and well and once again hyh was all for it. (and also neither of them really knew hyh's nature at that time) so yeah. he's a great older brother/guardian

on the pre regression timeline, really neither of them were at fault for what happened (my honest opinion the one to crucify and end is pre regression seok simyeong he's like my №2 hated guy in the whole novel cus he was the reason those dumb kids kept being stubborn and were hurting because he had all the time and age and brains to find the best way to keep hyj safe (THE ONLY GOAL HYH HAD. AND HE KNEW ABOUT THAT. I FUCKING HATE HIS GUTS.) anyway №1 is pre regression hyh because I'm biased and he's stupid (it's not his fault but still) and he had FIVE years to find a better way to keep his brother safe (at least on earth) but he DIDN'T. his ass did NOT consider hyj's mental wellbeing or the harassment or the violence he had to go through because of him or the self loathing and hate and despair and anyway i dislike him. it's also diarma and co's fault but he died pretty quickly and honestly i couldn't give much fucks about him)

let's get back on track, what hyj sucks at is being a dad. and the one I'm most sorry for is my poor boy gyeol, he's a kid through and through but he's already trying to grow up too fast because of his shitass dad (and when hyj wanted his kids to not grow up as fast as he did and stay kids when they're kids with a good childhood. which is the opposite of what happened with his first). and he's also very reliant on him. and he's already doing his best trying to suppress his emotions and wants and be quiet when he wants something because he tries to be a "good kid". and that's so fucking sad. and I can't even begin to imagine how it must feel when your dad can disappear literally any moment and you can't even do anything and like when he doesn't disappear he's away WORKING. he's way too busy to make time for you and like he tries sure but it's still not enough cus kids at that age want constant attention and love and hyj just can't give that to his kids no matter how much he tries or how good his intentions are for them

not like I don't feel sorry for the other kids but seol isn't all that attached to his dad or anything so he probably doesn't gaf if he dies or disappears and all he needs is his and byeol's basic needs met (in fact he knew hyj would be a shitty dad even when he was just born, so he wanted to leave right away with byeol and honestly i don't blame him for it)

and byeol also doesn't seem too attached to her dad either and she's just living her best life enjoying it, she has her brothers and her family and people who feed and play with her so she's not that bothered if her dad is away, because his role is being filled by other people in that time

while yoobin is still way too young to even grasp anything BUT HYJ IS ALREADY FAILING HIM (and yes him cus hyj said something about not being able to not see hyh in binnie so he'll probably be a boy for now). 70% of the time while he was trying to get back home he left his infant with other people and only got back home to feed him and sleep (if he even GOT HOME because this man is, and i quote, 'a kidnapping expert' and likes getting tied up beaten up taken away from home and maybe even getting sold) and well idrk how infants work but not having his dad must be pretty bad for binnie and yj himself mentioned that his kid might be getting separation anxiety (still proceeded to get kidnapped and leave him alone for hours) ((AND THEN HE SAYS BINNIE 'NEEDS TO GET USED TO IT QUICKLY'. WHAT THE FUCK. this man is so ass at being a dad I'm actually crying 😭😭))

in fact the one good thing about hyj is that he has money so he can provide the necessities for his kids, he tries to get them the best and even open a kindergarten and school for them and he literally saved the world and made it a better place for his kids and other kids and literally all of humanity.

BUT.

he's so so busy with all his work he has basically no time to spare for the kids. what the kids (mainly gyeol and yoobin I'd say) need at this exact time is his attention, and when he's done with all his work it might just be too late and they'll already distance themselves and lose the need for said attention (because they barely get it)

in conclusion, i think he's doing his best but he's doing it in the wrong (?) direction. not that changing the world so it's a better place is wrong but like. he's so emotionally unavailable to his kids and that's my main point. and they also have to worry their asses off about his wellbeing, him getting kidnapped, him fucking dying, him not eating or exercising, him probably dying earlier than all of them and i can go on and on (this is mainly his grown kids tho, byr, hyh, peace, and for some fucking reason his toddler gyeol)

and no i don't have an always working parent who I'm emotionally distant from what are you talking about

[katyspersonal]

What I do not get about Soulsborne fandom at all is the urge to do the random old men into creepy weirdos for no reason?

Gwyn is an amazing morally grey character who tried to create an arguably better world but did a lot of shit to accomplish it, he is tragic more than despicable, an early draft of Marika but clinging to his failure system until the very end. He has shown being generous as far as he is able even with species he feared and many people loved him, including his children. He doesn't have any dialogue or cutscene but his theme is the sole most heart-rending piece of music in everything From created and says more than words could about devs' intention behind this character. But people will say that he had to fuck Priscilla to give birth to Gwyndolin when Priscilla was banished into the Painted World as a child! So like, did he have sex with a kid, or predatorily waited for a kid to grow up? But no, he must be Gwyn Lord of Grooming when there are at least two way more canon-palatable explanations for who was second parent of Gwyndolin? Why would he need to keep Priscilla as a sex slave anyways? Are you telling me THIS guy lacked sex partners? The GILF Marika guy lacked sex partners to the point he needed a sex slave? Seriously?

Gehrman is the hunter who has done a lot of shit in his life, affiliated with Byrgenwerth and directly involved in Fishing Hamlet, who cherished the student he took down the dark path of the hunt a lot and got completely crashed after her death, immortalising her soft and innocent side that was ruined in a mourning doll of her. He poured so much warmth into simply caring for her former hair ornament that Doll cried tears of joy holding it - emotions he had hoped Doll would have, whom he distanced from seeing she was only Maria lookalike otherwise acting mechanical and lifeless. But people will say he is a creep who drooled all over Maria from the corners and made a sex doll of her that he also offers US to fuck. 🤦‍♂️ Bonus points for claims of objectification, misogyny and loathing her masculine vibe so much he bastardised her into his tradwife ideal, as if this notion on itself doesn't directly contradict the very fact of training her to be the hunter to begin with. And you'd think clarifying that "Even the Doll, should it please you" and "his curious mania" were invented by English localisation would be enough, yet some people still insist that either Japanese original script is somehow "not the gospel" (???), or that it is somehow valid to replace canon character with our negative experience with them dreaded cis white males and be bitchy towards everyone who wants posts about the canon character as he is (??????).

Godrick is straight up the symptom of how wrong things went in this setting, both in the world and in his big family. He is not seen as his own person but only as a disgrace of his cool strong awesome golden ancestors due to being born weak, he got driven out of his rightful place due to internal political contrivances and ran for his life, he adopted the mindset and expectations imposed on him and does everything he can to make himself what he "should" be. There are reasons to pity him, in good or bad sense, but somehow he gets baseless accusations of being a creep/pervert/rapist thrown at him, especially on Reddit? Also random takes about him being a groomer too because of Grafted Scions, when they are literally just his children? Why??? What do people THINK "grafted scion" means? I suppose people have a strange way to look at grafting as a concept, even though Rykard or Warrior Jars like Alexander also make people they've killed parts of their bodies?

Like, nothing wrong with creepy and uncomfortable characters and dark topics in media, but what's with the insistence of forcing these topics onto characters who don't actually have them? I just feel like there is a concept of "old = creepy" in fandom consciousness