#i never would have expected their heirs hair colors would be one of my most frequently asked questions

[rockybloo]

I know you said that Sweetheart & Bitterbat have kids before she turns into a Monstrum, & looking back at pics of the 13 heirs, I noticed that some of them had Sweetheart's pink hair and/or eyes. So my question is, is she specifically Sweetheart or Amara when she has kids?

Monstrum are magic based. Even if Sweetheart is human when having kids, they would still have pink hair and pink eyes because when she is enchanted with magic aka a magical girl, she has those features.

When the kids learn spells to disguise themselves as humans, they wind up with her natural hair and Bitterbat's human disguise hair color which is almost black as well as their human eye colors.

That being said, Sweetheart and Amara are very entangled together. She transforms in an instant sometimes without meaning to if she feels strong enough emotions.

So when she has kids, or even when she is making kids, it's not a "she def does it as Sweetheart" or "she def does it as Amara" situation.

She basically fucks around and finds out.

Being a Beloved is an unpredictable experience.

[hotpinkstars]

GIRL DAD OR BOY DAD? - sunday, boothill x reader

- or more clearly, to what gender would they want to have more, and general headcannons of them as papas ☺️

- brainrot brainrot brainrot BRAINROT AHHH... i love these guys and i can do a part 2 for others later but godd theres absolutely not enough dad stuff for these men (especially sunday... if there is its all yandere) so never fear novas here! ahem anyways enjoy

- warnings none! pure fluff!!! wc 711

Sunday is so a girl and boy dad.

Reason why I say this is because he likely needs an heir to take over his position when he gets too old to do so, but he also wants a baby girl he can spoil as well.

Don’t worry! He loves both of his kids the same! They’re the greatest things that have probably ever happened to him and he cherishes them with his whole life. He thanks the stars above every single day for the opportunity he received to be a father to multiple beautiful children, and thanks you for granting him the chance. 

Dunno, but I could see this man wanting a handful of kids. He wants at least one girl and at least one boy, but I could see him shooting for 3-4. Will he be around to care for them? Not all the time, but he tries his hardest (and he definitely has the resources to care for that many).

Considering they’re half halovian and half human, they look pretty much just like their father! Some have your eyes, but they all have his hair. His hair and his gorgeous wings. They have your features though, such as your face, body type, etc.

His favorite part of the day is when he gets to collapse on your shared bed, his kiddos following behind him to cuddle their dad, and most of the time you all fall asleep together. Normally, you wake up just you and him because he’s good about putting them in their own bed once they fall asleep.

Once his kids get older, he’ll teach his son(s) combat and good form. He wants them to protect, and wants to raise them to be strong and independent. With his daughter(s), if they ask to be taught combat, then he won’t see much of an issue with it. He also wants to teach them independence, but in a more subtle form. 

Just expect that his children as teenagers are going to be the prettiest kids around holy shit. They’re obviously enrolled in a private school due to their fathers high status but they always come home and list the compliments they’ve received that day. Thankfully you two have raised them well enough for them to realize that it’ll be bad if all of these get to their head and stroke their ego too hard…

Supportive father asf! All I’ve gotta say here

Don’t play Boothill is SO a girl dad hello have you met the man

He’s so excited when his little girl is born ahh he’s always dreamed of being a father to a girl and his dream has officially come true!!

Obviously, if you had a boy, he’d love him the same. He just wants children of his own tbh lol

His daughter knows western culture fresh out of the womb my friend. It’s like she was born for little cowboy boots and the cutest little cowboy hat. She’s even got a western name, he brought it up and you liked it, so the name you two settled on was Cassidy.

She has his hair! It’s absolutely gorgeous once it starts coming in- a pearly white color with little black streaks stemming from the roots. She has your eyes and your face, and his slimmer body type (before he was turned into a cyborg. This isn’t canon I actually have no clue what he looked like pre cyborgification lmao).

Oh lord, your daughter is so spoiled. On every mission he goes on he’s always bringing something back for her. It could be a super fancy necklace or even just a little trinket he picked up from a street vendor, but she has a whole shelf full of the things her daddy gives her.

She thinks it’s so cool he has a metal body. She asks about it alot but she’s really fascinated with it tbh. She likes to call it “daddy’s special feature!” and he always melts to that sentence gosh

He probably teaches his daughter how to use a gun when she gets older. He, similar to Sunday, wants his daughter to learn self defense tactics and learn how to fend for herself when necessary.

She totally has his accent. Change my mind period.

[heedeungism]

synopsis: the duke loves you dearly, yes, but how could you possibly know that? includes: bridgerton au, suggestive, profanity , hoon is a rake

as duke and duchess of hastings, it was expected that you produce an heir within the year. being the notorious love match of the season, the diamond and the duke, the image of your family back in london was counting on your ability to ‘perform your duty’, as the ton loved to put it.

sunghoon, your husband, the duke, had been the one to propose the deal. you’d been told your whole life that your interests meant nothing if your husband did not share them, yet he had asked you what your favorite color was. you had been told that horse riding wasn’t ladylike, yet he had shown you his favorite mare and asked you if you’d ever ridden.

he was all the right things, you’d thought. though truthfully, he had one quality you couldn't look past. he was a rake. he frequented brothels, fucked whores, but called on you and gave you the most expensive flowers, and spoke the sweetest of nothings. it was almost enough to look past. you’d thought that you’d be able to get past it, that if he was in love with you enough to propose he’d be in love enough to stop visiting the brothels.

that hope was shattered the moment he’d proposed. it wasn’t romantic, nor was it anything you wanted.

“a deal?” you remember asking when he had looked at you with eyes you had never seen so unfeeling, “or a marriage?”

“you will be allowed the estate. every luxury you desire will be yours.” he had stated, “while i—“

“spend your nights at your beloved brothels?” his face when you had spoken those words had sent your heart into its own frozen hell. “you do not have to explain yourself, your grace.”

and so, the two of you married. you knew that despite the pieces he had left your heart in he would keep his word, and he did. you’d never worn such luxurious gowns nor felt fabric so soft and breathable as your nightdress.

your mama had told you little about what the night of your wedding entailed, only that if a certain event did not transpire the marriage would be null. that event was never described in full to you by your mother, only hinted at by jane austen, and yet it had been nearly a month since your nuptials and the duke had left the space between the two of you alarmingly obvious. the large bed that while you both slept on you did not share, the avoidance of eye contact, and the heat of his hand on yours only for him to pull away before you can let it pool.

on mornings that you allow yourself to sleep in, you are unsure if the ghostly touch along your cheekbone and the gentle tucking of your hair out of your face is your imagination or just the breeze coming from the open window. on nights that you are plagued by the feeling of being undesirable, you can feel his gaze on your back when he thinks you’re asleep.

on a night like this one, you find yourself reaching a point of exhaustion. “your grace.” you greet as you enter his study, the place he would keep to himself and even eat on most nights.

he barely glances up from his paperwork, “do you need something?”

shaking your head, you pull the shawl you have over your shoulders to cover the skin that your nightdress didn’t. the pink color of the fabric was what you had described as your favorite when the duke had asked. it’s the color of nearly every dress you have been provided with since moving into clyvedon. “no, i simply came to inform you that i am having the maids move my things into the duchess’s chambers.”

his interest is piqued, and he finally looks at you. “why ever would you have them do that?”

“is reason needed to move into my own chambers?”

your response garners a look from your husband, “separate rooms shall not be suffered.”

his words cause you to scoff, “yet a silent marriage will be?”

he is silent for a moment before he speaks, “jones.” the butler standing by the door straightens up, “inform the maids that they will under no circumstances move the duchess’ belongings from our chambers.”

“sir.” the man nods, exiting the room and leaving you with your husband.

“will you continue to go about your days acting as if i do not exist?” you question goes unanswered as sunghoon resumes his paperwork. “fine, i will move them myself.”

“you will do no such thing.”

“oh, i believe i will.” you retort and sunghoon stands, hands placed on the desk as his jaw shifts.

“i forbid you.”

the audacity baffles you, frustration turning into fury within the second, “you forbid me?”

sunghoon walks out from behind his desk, stopping beside it, “you are my wife. your hatred i can tolerate but i will not allow the agony of separate rooms.”

“am i your wife?” you ask, watching his hands twitch at his sides and his eyes darken, “we had a wedding, yes, but if we did not spend that night together are we truly married?”

“you speak nonsense.” he dismisses, eyes no longer on you as he turns away, “go to bed.”

“do not speak to me like i am a child—“

“i said-“ he starts, voice raising as he turns back toward you with a darkness in his gaze, “go. to. bed.”

his eyes pierce your own as his voice is low and nearly breathless, you lower your chin just the slightest as your heart aches, “i am not a child, nor am i a fool. i know you do not love me but i did not think you cruel enough for trickery.”

“trickery?” he asks, seemingly clueless as the what you mean.

you begin, “the day we met in that garden i thought you different, kind. you led me to believe such lies, you knew i could not say no to you, you trapped me in a loveless marriage that you knew i did not desire—“

“loveless? if that is what you believe this marriage to be, it is not i who is the cause,” he argues, and you narrow your eyes.

“am i to believe that you love me? have your actions up to this very moment warranted such beliefs?” your question causes your husband’s jaw to shift.

“go to bed.” he looks down at his desk again.

“do not tell me what to do.”

“what do you want from me?” he whips around to look at you. “i have given you riches, i have given you every gown you could possibly desire, i have had the finest soaps imported from india and yet you continue to oppose me. what. do. you. want?”

“i want a husband. not a stranger that i share a bed with, not a keeper.” you state, “i know you do not love me, but if I am to be duchess and produce an heir i deserve better than an absent duke.”

sunghoon remains silent for a moment before his hands clench into fists and his cold eyes meet your own. “call me a stranger, loathe my existence for the rest of your life but never think for even a moment that i do not love you.”

you are stunned into silence, and he continues, stepping closer and closer until your breaths mingle as he says, “i have spent the past fortnights in agony. suffering through the nights i cannot touch you. speaking to you is not enough, nor is being in your company. i have never in my life felt as though i cannot inhale what another does not exhale and yet i find myself suffocating with every moment i am not by your side.”

his fingers ghost over your cheekbone and you find your breath caught in your throat. “i have loved you ever since i saw you in that garden. do not dare question that.”

your lips part and his eyes follow them. your chest rises as you inhale sharply and deeply, attempting to process the words leaving his lips as well as their close proximity to your own. “you…love me.”

your tone is not one of question, and his pleasure in that fact is shown through both his actions and the three words you had yearned to leave his lips since he’d proposed. the same lips that capture yours in a hungry and insatiable kiss that has you in shambles.

your knees buckle, legs turning to jelly, and like he had expected it his arms wrap around you and pulls you closer. his tongue meets yours the moment your lips part and as he brings you to sit on his desk, the pressure of his body between your legs sends a jolt of pleasure you have never experienced before up your body, prompting a choked whimper to escape between the mess of lips and tongue.

“your grace.” you exhale against him, quickly silenced by his lips once again as he breathes you in like you’re the last atom of oxygen on earth.

“your grace.” he responds in kind, hand trailing up your thigh under your nightdress. then, there’s contact and a loud keen that like the rest of them, he swallows with ease.

©heedeungism : do not rewrite, copy, repost, or translate any of my works without my permission.

[pretty-sparkle-bomb]

Prince Katsuki Bakugo x Female Reader

Please support me by leaving a like or comment to let me know what you liked most about the chapter and what you expect to come in the next one!

You are now reading Part 2 of Promise! Enjoy my lovelies <3 Lemme know what your feelings were on this chapter!

Part 1 here Part 3 here

When you were six, you held a fake wedding by the swings with a kid you met at the park. You never saw your childhood “spouse" again after that day. Today you received a letter summoning you to a foreign country...where your wedding to the heir to the throne fifteen years ago is seen as valid.

Turns out, he's lying to you? Wait...WHAT?

If someone had told you two days ago that you would be sitting in a limousine, about to go meet a random Prince who is your supposed 'spouse' that you haven't met in fifteen years, you'd have packed your bags and moved to the other side of the world.

Well, that’s where you are right now.

The luxurious interior of the limousine felt surreal, the soft leather seats and tinted windows contrasting the whirlwind of confusion and disbelief swirling inside your mind. You glanced out the window at the passing cityscape, trying to process everything that had happened in the last forty-eight hours.

It had started with that knock on your door, the letter from Prince Bakugo, and your incredulous conversation with Momo. Somehow, you had gone from laughing off the absurdity of it all to sitting here, en route to a world you never imagined would be yours.

You still couldn’t wrap your head around it. The playground wedding and childhood games all felt like another lifetime.

Yet, here you were, being whisked away to meet the man who, according to his letter, had been waiting for you all these years.

The limousine slowed as it approached a grand estate, the gates opening smoothly as the vehicle entered. Your heart pounded in your chest, a mixture of anxiety and curiosity.

The driver, a stern-looking man in a perfectly pressed uniform, pulled up to the entrance and stepped out to open your door.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped out of the limousine, your eyes widening at the sight before you. The castle was magnificent, with towering spires and intricate stonework that looked like something out of a fairy tale.

As you stood there, taking in the grandeur, the massive wooden doors of the castle opened. A man with red, spiky hair stepped out, his expression serious yet somehow familiar. It was the same man who had brought the letter to your door, Kirishima, was it?

"Princess," he said, bowing slightly. "Please follow me."

You nodded, too overwhelmed to speak, and followed him inside. The castle's interior was just as breathtaking as the exterior, with vaulted ceilings, grand chandeliers, and tapestries depicting scenes of historical significance.

Kirishima led you through a series of hallways until you reached grand double doors. He paused and turned to you.

"The Prince is inside. He’s been looking forward to meeting you again."

Your heart raced as he opened the doors, revealing a spacious room bathed in sunlight. Standing at the far end, looking out of a large window, was Prince Bakugo. He turned as you entered, his intense gaze locking onto yours.

He was taller now, more mature, but there was no mistaking the boy you had once known. His hair was still as spiky as ever, the ash blond color ever so conspicuous, numerous scars on his hands, no doubt from all the battles he'd been through.

Sharp crimson eyes bore into your softer ones, it was like he was reading your soul just from the eye contact. Something like that made your heart skip a beat.

"It's been a long time." Oh, that was the one thing you had hoped he wouldn't say. Had he forgotten your name? Was this all a mistake?

You nodded, swallowing hard. "Yes, it has."

He took a step towards you, his expression softening. "I know this is a lot to take in."

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his words. "I never thought... I mean, I didn’t realize any of this was real."

He smirked slightly. "It's real. Y/N, you need to know why you're here." His feet shuffled. He seemed almost... nervous?

You felt a strange sense of panic wash over you. "Okay," you said softly. "Let’s talk."

Bakugo took a deep breath, his eyes narrowing as he prepared to explain. "Look, Y/N, there's something you need to know. That playground wedding we had... it isn't seen as valid by my people."

Your eyes widened, confusion and anger bubbling up inside you. "Then why did you tell me it was? Why did you bring me here?"

He ran a hand through his spiky hair, clearly frustrated. "Because my parents are planning to marry me off to some girl I haven't even met. Another Princess, some fuckin' extra named Uraraka."

You ignored the language that departed from his mouth, too focused on the more unbelievable part of the situation. He lied to you.

Youfelt a rush of emotions—anger, confusion, and a strange sense of betrayal. "So, you lied to me?"

Bakugo winced at the accusation. "Yeah, I lied. Not like I had a damn choice. My parents have been breathing down my neck about this for months. They think it's time I settled down and did my duty as a prince. But I don't want to marry someone I don't even know."

"And you think dragging me into this mess is the solution?" you snapped, feeling a surge of anger. "How could you do this to me?"

"You're the only one I could think of," he admitted, his voice softer now. "We have history, Y/N. I thought that if I could convince them that we're already married, they’d back off."

You shook your head, trying to make sense of everything. "This is insane. You can't just use me as a pawn in your game. This isn't fair to me, Katsuki." you seethed, crossing your arms and looking around the room. Anywhere but his face.

"I know it's not fair," he said, his tone desperate. "But I need your help. Just for a while, please. Pretend to be my fiancée until I can figure out a way to get out of this arranged marriage."

You looked at him, torn between the anger you felt and the vulnerability you saw in his eyes. "I don't know. This is a lot to ask and it was so suddenly."

"I know it is," he replied, stepping closer to you. "But I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important. I need you, Y/N. Please."

You shook your head, no. "What am I getting from this?"

"Anything. Anything you want. Gold, a new house, trips to anywhere in the world. Anything." he breathed out to you, his hands cupped your cheeks and searched your eyes for a positive reaction.

You felt powerful. Having a Prince, no. The Prince of Japan at your beck-and-call was a feeling of ultimate power and you basked in it.

"Fine. But on one condition."

Your eyes widened as you stepped foot into what would be your new room. This place was humongous. The walls were lined with ornate wallpaper, and the bed, situated in the center of the room, was draped with luxurious black and red silk.

Sunlight poured in through the tall, arched windows, illuminating the room in a warm, golden glow. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting sparkling light over the room.

"Wow," you breathed, taking in the grandeur. "This is… incredible."

Bakugo stood by the doorway, watching you with a mix of relief and determination. "I told you I'd make it worth your while."

You turned to face him, trying to keep your emotions in check. "Alright, Katsuki. I'll play along. But remember our deal. You owe me, big time."

He nodded, his expression now a cocky smirk. "I didn't forget."

With that, he left you to settle into your new quarters, the door closing softly behind him. You took a moment to explore the room, your fingers trailing over the luxurious fabrics and polished surfaces. It felt surreal to be in such a place, caught up in a situation you never could have imagined.

As you unpacked your things, your mind wandered back to the events of the past few days. It had all happened so quickly—one moment, you were living your ordinary life, and the next, you were thrust into a world of royalty.

After a while, there was a knock on the door. You opened it to find a woman in a maid's uniform standing there, a warm smile on her face.

"Good afternoon, Princess!" she said with a slight bow. "The name's Mina, your personal maid. If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask. It's nice to meetcha!" She stuck her hand out and shook yours with vigor. It was weird seeing a maid act so friendly. She was definitely a girl's girl.

"Thank you, Mina," you replied, trying to match her happy tone. "I'm still getting used to all of this."

She nodded understandingly. "If you need help with anything, from getting settled to understanding the daily schedule, I'm here to assist you!"

"Right..." you trailed off, and she changed the subject, noticing the awkwardness.

You spent the next hour getting to know Mina and learning about the castle's routines and protocols. Despite the overwhelming circumstances, her funny demeanor and helpfulness put you at ease.

That evening, as you prepared for dinner, you found yourself standing in front of a full-body mirror with your phone's flash turned on, trying to get a good picture for your Instagram page.

Mina barged into the room, causing you to yelp and drop your phone in the process. "Whoopsy daisy," she chuckled.

"We need something perfect for tonight's banquet," she said, her eyes alight with excitement. "It has to be just right, especially with all the nobles and dignitaries attending. Especially if we're considering the fact that the other Princes of Japan are gonna be there!" she squealed.

Mina's eyes lit up as she pulled a gown from the rack. "This one," she mumbled, holding it up. The dress was a stunning shade of crimson, a shade that matched Katsuki's eyes, you thought.

"Other Princes of Japan?" you asked as she prepared a bath for you, adding a few drops of a coconut-scented mix, something that would be perfect for catching everyone's nose.

"Yeah. Princes Midoriya and Todoroki?" she asked, and you stared at her with puzzlement. "Really? Have you been living under a rock?!"

You chuckled. "I guess."

"Alrighty, I'll fill you in as we get you ready." She nodded and helped you into the bathtub.

After some time, Mina stepped back, taking a good look at you. Your hair bounced as you turned to look at her with a shy smile. "Pretty as a princess!" she cooed at you, like a mother to her child on their first day of school.

"Okay! This way!"

Taking a deep breath, you made your way to the dining hall. The grand room was filled with the soft hum of conversation and the clinking of silverware. "Good luck, girly," she hummed behind you, and you immediately felt her step back, allowing you to enter.

Two ginormous thrones stood firm and tall at the head of the room. On the bigger one sat a male, Katsuki's father, you presumed. His soft gaze immediately locked onto you as you entered. His hair was a homely brown, something that reminded you a lot of your mother's brownies.

Next to him sat a woman. She looked extremely young; for a second, you almost mistook her for Katsuki's sister. Her eyes looked worn, now a shade of bromine. It made you wonder if Katsuki's eyes would take on the same shade when he grew older. Her hair was spiky and untamed, just like her son's. Upon meeting eye contact with her, she immediately beamed brightly at you.

"Your Highnesses," you bowed, almost perfectly for someone new to royal life. He dismissed you with a wave of his hand, and you stood up straight, head held high as you met his gaze.

"Ah, you must be the girl we've heard so much about," the man smiled, crow's feet at his tired eyes. "King Masaru. This lovely lady is my wife, Queen Mitsuki." He looked at her lovingly, and she laced their hands together. How cute.

You felt a blush creep up your cheeks at the sudden attention. "It's an honor meeting you both, Your Highnesses. I never knew that he spoke about me."

"Damn right I do," a new voice pitched in from the background, and you spun on your heel, noticing the familiar ash-blond hair pop into the room.

"Katsuki Bakugo, you brat! How dare you barge into the throne room without knocking!" his mother stood up and walked up to the two of you, smacking Katsuki upside the head.

You looked at the two in shock. Did she really just...?

"YOU DAMN HAG!" Katsuki screeched. "I'M A PRINCE AND I CAN DO WHAT I WANT." He stomped his foot like a petulant child throwing a tantrum.

"OH, YOU THINK THAT YOU'VE GROWN OUT OF YOUR SHOES, YOUNG MAN?" She grabbed onto one of his ears and pulled it hard until he whined and mumbled out an apology. You looked back to the King and watched as he chuckled with an amused look on his face. It must be a normal occurrence around here.

"Damn hag," Katsuki grumbled, coming to stand at your side and wrapping a hand around your waist. "Ya look nice," he mumbled into your ear, and the Queen looked at the two of you with raised eyebrows.

The King and Queen exchanged a glance but were cut off by a knight entering the room. "Your Majesties." He bowed. Wait, you'd recognize that voice. Kirishima?

"Dinner is ready, and your guests have been seated." And sure enough, there stood the redhead, bowing lowly before leaving the room.

"Thank you, Eijiro. We'll be there." The king nodded and stood up, his wife immediately at his side, locking her left arm onto his extended one. "Come on, you lovebirds. The most important people are here to approve you, Y/N." She smiled warmly at you.

As you walked towards the grand dining room, the soft clinking of heels echoed in the marble hallway.

The opulent decor and lavish surroundings only added to the surreal feeling of the evening. Katsuki's hand was still securely around your waist, a gesture that both reassured and anchored you in this unfamiliar world.

The grand double doors of the dining hall loomed ahead, flanked by two imposing guards in ornate uniforms. They stood at attention, their faces stern and expressionless. As you approached, one of the guards stepped forward, clearing his throat.

"Announcing Their Majesties, King Masaru and Queen Mitsuki, along with His Royal Highness, Prince Katsuki," he intoned, his voice carrying through the hall.

Great. Just great.

Your heart sank a little as the guard finished his announcement, omitting your name entirely. How embarrassing.

The nobles and dignitaries who had turned to acknowledge the royal family now looked at you with mild confusion. You could feel their judgmental eyes boring into you.

Katsuki's grip on your waist tightened slightly. You glanced up at him and saw a flash of irritation in his eyes. Without missing a beat, he leaned down and whispered something to the guard. You couldn't make out the words, but the effect was immediate.

The guard's face paled, his posture stiffening as he realized his mistake. "My apologies," he stammered.

"Announcing Her Royal Highness, Princess Y/N."

The correction hung in the air, and for a moment, the room was silent.

Then, as if on cue, the nobles and dignitaries bowed deeply, their earlier confusion replaced with acknowledgment.

Katsuki's intense gaze remained on the guard for a moment longer before he turned back to you, his expression softening.

"Let's go," he murmured, guiding you further into the room.

You felt a rush of gratitude and relief, appreciating Katsuki's insistence on your proper recognition. Looking up at him, you gave him a small smile. "Thank you," you whispered.

Katsuki's parents, seated at the head of the table, exchanged a glance that spoke of approval and satisfaction.

He pulled out a chair for you next to his, and you took your place, feeling the eyes of the other guests upon you.

The grand dining table was a sight to behold, laden with exquisite dishes and adorned with elegant floral arrangements. The room buzzed with small conversations, and as you settled into your seat next to Katsuki, you felt a bit of the earlier anxiety melt away.

Suddenly, a woman stood up, her warm brown eyes glaring down at you, making you feel uncomfortable. She used her fork and cup to avert the attention of everyone at the table to her.

"I was wondering if you were still interested in marrying Prince Bakugo to my daughter, Princess Uraraka."

Wait... What?

Taglist!

@faemagic88 @cgmajor @sleepyeri @justagirlfr @aphrodite-xoxo

@effy-2000 @yoyolovesdaiki

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Any HC's or theories on Regulus Black?

Hi! This was a really fun ask actually and I ended up blabbering a lot about Regulus Arcturus Black because I have thoughts.

Okay, so I'm going to do something similar to what I did with Theodore Nott since there isn't a lot of info about Regulus, but there's a lot implied and I love extrapolating. I think Regulus is a fascinating character that can be read in multiple ways (part of the fun!)

It got a bit long, but here are my thoughts about him:

The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black

“Leave?” Sirius smiled bitterly and ran a hand through his long, unkempt hair. “Because I hated the whole lot of them: my parents, with their pure-blood mania, convinced that to be a Black made you practically royal . . . my idiot brother, soft enough to believe them . . . that’s him.” Sirius jabbed a finger at the very bottom of the tree, at the name REGULUS BLACK. A date of death (some fifteen years previously) followed the date of birth. “He was younger than me,” said Sirius, “and a much better son, as I was constantly reminded.” “But he died,” said Harry. “Yeah,” said Sirius. “Stupid idiot . . . he joined the Death Eaters.” [...] “No, no, but believe me, they thought Voldemort had the right idea, they were all for the purification of the Wizarding race, getting rid of Muggle-borns and having purebloods in charge. They weren’t alone either, there were quite a few people, before Voldemort showed his true colors, who thought he had the right idea about things. . . . They got cold feet when they saw what he was prepared to do to get power, though. But I bet my parents thought Regulus was a right little hero for joining up at first.”

(OotP, 112)

So, first, we have some background. Regulus Black was the younger brother of Sirius. Part of the main male line of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.

What we know of Sirius' childhood is that the Blacks were pure-blood fanatics. From Elladrora who hung house-elf heads on the wall to Araminata who billed the ministry to legalize muggle-hunting. Not to mention the Blacks' tendency to disown and disinherit anyone who doesn't fall in line with their standards of purity. They are, after all, "Always Pure".

So Regulus grew up wealthy in a family that considered themselves magical nobility (and probably are, in that I think they have a family Wizengamot membership). He never lacked anything, but his childhood came with expectations, more so after Sirius left.

I've seen many write Walburga and Orion as abusive, but I don't think they cursed their children. I don't think they were great parents, but I truly believe they never raised a wand (or hand) against one of their sons. What I think they did, was heft some impossible standards on their sons.

Sirius is the eldest, the heir, therefore as children, he would've carried most of these expectations. Sirius would be the one Walburga and Orion dotted after. Kreature says Sirius leaving broke Waburga's heart and I honestly believe it to be true. I think Sirius was Walburga's favorite. The eldest, the brightest, the cleverest, the most handsome. The brightest star in the night sky.

Regulus, as a child, would always come second. He would see his brother cause havoc and get all their parents' attention, so, in his bid to get attention too, he did the opposite of Sirius. If Sirius got attention for being a rebel, Regulus would follow each and every standard their parents put down to the latter. This is something you see in many families, each sibling wants to have their own "niche" so they tend to do the opposite of the sibling that came before them. And that's exactly what we see with Regulus. Sirius was the rebel, so Regulus became the dutiful, obedient perfect pure-blood son his mother wanted to win her affection and differentiate himself from Sirius.

These comparisons between them Sirius mentioned, they probably went both ways. Walburga reminded Sirius of how dutiful and reliable Regulus is and "Why can't you be more like your brother," but Regulus heard the exact same sentence. "Why can't you be as witty/talented as you're brother".

And after Sirius left, I think these comparisons got worse. I think Walburga and Orion talked about Sirius constantly after he left.

I believe Sirius and Regulus were actually close as young children and started growing apart once Sirius started school. Sirius being sorted into Gryffindor was a new point of tension in the home. The constant comparisons they both heard to each other made resentment grow and after Sirius left, Regulus couldn't speak to his parents without hearing "Oh, Sirius would say this" and "Sirius would think that" I think that resentment and bitterness got worse. So, he did what he always did to differentiate himself from Sirius — be the perfect Slytherin pure-blood.

I think this helped his decision to join the Death Eaters. Not the only factor, mind you, I don't think it's Sirius' fault Regulus joined the Death Eaters, it was still Regulus' decision. But I think the situation at home after Sirius left factored into it.

Who was Regulus as a person?

Now I want to talk a little bit more about Regulus' personality before covering his untimely end everyone is familiar with.

It was a pompous little sign, neatly lettered by hand the sort of thing that Percy Weasley might have stuck on his bedroom door. Do Not Enter Without the Express Permission of Regulus Arcturus Black

(DH, 163)

They moved over the threshold together, gazing around. Regulus’s bedroom was slightly smaller than Sirius’s, though it had the same sense of former grandeur. Whereas Sirius had sought to advertise his diffidence from the rest of the family, Regulus had striven to emphasize the opposite. The Slytherin colors of emerald and silver were everywhere, draping the bead, the walls, and the windows. The Black family crest was painstakingly painted over the bed, along with its motto, TOUJOURS PUR. Beneath this was a collection of yellow newspaper cuttings, all stuck together to make a ragged collage. Hermione crossed the room to examine them. “They’re all about Voldemort,” she said. “Regulus seems to have been a fan for a few years before he joined the Death Eaters . . . ” A little puff of dust rose from the bedcovers as she sat down to read the clippings. Harry, meanwhile, had noticed another photograph: a Hogwarts Quidditch team was smiling and waving out of the frame. He moved closer and saw the snakes emblazoned on their chests: Slytherins. Regulus was instantly recognizable as the boy sitting in the middle of the front row: He had the same dark hair and slightly haughty look of his brother, though he was smaller, slighter, and rather less handsome than Sirius had been. “He played Seeker,” said Harry.

(DH, 164)

I believe you can learn a lot about a person from their living space. Regulus' (and Sirius') bedrooms remained unchanged by their parents from the moment they left them. As Regulus died when he was 18 or 19 the room is frozen as it was when it served him. So, what does Regulus' bedroom tell us about him?

Harry refers to the sign on the door as something pompous, and written in a nice handwriting. I believe the sign was put up when Regulus was younger, specifically against Sirius. It's one of these signs children put on their doors specifically against their annoying siblings who steal their stuff or rummage through it. And even after they grew out of it, after Sirius left, Regulus kept the sign up. I think he couldn't really muster to put it away even once Sirius wasn't around to poke into his room anymore.

As I mentioned above, Regulus tried to be the opposite of Sirius and decorated his room accordingly. The most Slytherin pure-blood child of Hosue Black there could be. The Hogwarts memorabilia is some of that perfect Slytherin son image, but it's also really sad. It's a reminder of just how young Regulus was when he died. Sure, he would've probably kept a lot of it as an adult, but it's unlikely he would've displayed Slytherin banners and pictures of the Quidditch team in the same way long after school was over. But Regulus graduated a year before his death, he didn't have time to grow up and grow away from his school experiences. So his room, like him, is stuck at 19.

The Black family crest and motto painted above the bed is another extra mile to show Regulus' dedication to being the perfect son, the perfect child his mother wanted. I headcanon this was painted after Sirus left. A sort of sign to say that Regulus wouldn't leave. That he cares about his family.

Harry also mentioned Regulus was a Seeker on the Slytherin Quidditch team, according to his seating in the photo. It doesn't tell us much more about Regulus, I think it's just more of him trying to please his parents. That and I think he genuinely liked Quidditch, which is a fun little tidbit.

Now, we don't know much about Regulus at school, but I'd say he was a good student. He wasn't as naturally talented and gifted as Sirius, but Regulus knew to work his ass off. The neat handwriting on the door sign is probably his, I bet he had really organized notes in school that everyone wanted to copy. Regulus as the second best to Sirius, would be more of a hard worker than Sirius in general and strive for perfection in his school work out of his desire for attention and recognition from his parents.

Now, let's talk about the newspaper clippings elephant in the room...

Regulus the Death Eater

Sirius said his parents thought Voldemort had the right idea about muggles and muggleborns, and it's clear Regulus agreed with them. Regulus was a Voldemort fanboy before he became a Death Eater, yes, the circumstances he grew up with and his resentment towards Sirius were part of it, but it was a choice he made. He thought it was a good idea, he thought muggles and muggleborns should know their place. I think there are a lot of parallels between Regulus Black and Draco Malfoy, especially when Kreature talks about how Regulus was at first as a Death Eater:

“Master Sirius ran away, good riddance, for he was a bad boy and broke my Mistress’s heart with his lawless ways. But Master Regulus had proper order; he knew what was due to the name of Black and the dignity of his pure blood. For years he talked of the Dark Lord, who was going to bring the wizards out of hiding to rule the Muggles and the Muggle-borns . . . and when he was sixteen years old, Master Regulus joined the Dark Lord. So proud, so proud, so happy to serve . . . And one day, a year after he joined, Master Regulus came down to the kitchen to see Kreacher. Master Regulus always liked Kreacher. And Master Regulus said . . . he said . . . ” The old elf rocked faster than ever. “. . . he said that the Dark Lord required an elf.” […] “Oh yes,” moaned Kreacher. “And Master Regulus had volunteered Kreacher. It was an honor, said Master Regulus, an honor for him and for Kreacher, who must be sure to do whatever the Dark Lord ordered him to do . . . and then to c-come home.” Kreacher rocked still faster, his breath coming in sobs.

(DH, 168-169)

Like Draco, Regulus was proud to be a Death Eater, excited to do something against the "filthy mudbloods" plaguing their society. He considered helping Voldemort an honor. A good thing. Same as how Draco talks about it at first. But like we see with Draco in book 6, that it became too much for him, that he was having mental breakdowns in the toilet with Myrtle, I think Regulus experienced something similar.

He grew up spoiled, well-treated, well-mannered. He wasn't raised a soldier, a killer. I don't think Regulus had it in him, same as Draco. He couldn't bear to torture and kill.

Regulus, Kreature, and Empathy

The other interesting note in the above quotes is "Master Regulus always liked Kreacher". I find this adorable and jarring. We see how Sirius treats Kreature, he doesn't treat him as an equal being, he treats him like a slave, like a house-elf. Sirius does it because that's how he was raised to see house-elves, even the Weasleys think of house-elves in this way. It's a societal thing. But Regulus doesn't.

Regulus is kind to Kreature, and cares about him, likes him. It's kind of insane for a blood-purist Death Eater to show affection for a house-elf, especially the kind of affection in which Regulus chose to die instead of torturing his elf (his choice to die had other factors in it, and I'll get to it later). It's just, I don't know, the dynamic Regulus and Kreature had is really precious to me, okay?

Like, the fact it could happen goes to show how compassionate Regulus was even with his bigoted views and choice to become a Death Eater. Sirius calls Regulus "soft" and I think he is 100% right. Regulus was the "softer" and more empathetic of the two brothers. That softness doesn't mean he didn't think muggles and muggleborns are lesser and chose to become a Death Eater on his own accord. But that empathy is what probably made him uncomfortable among Death Eaters and get cold feet once he saw what was going on inside.

I imagine Kreature and Regulus were friendly for years. Kreature has served the Hosue of Black for a good while, which means he likely raised Regulus and Sirius. I think he helped with Regulus more than with Sirius, just because of how they reacted to him differently. Also, Waburga and Orion probably had less attention to give to Regulus when he was just born as Sirius was still really young then (a year or a year and a half old), so their attention would be more divided and Kreature would help more. I headcanon when Regulus was a young child Kreature would, like, sneak him extra desert and such and a young Sirius would complain he's not getting any.

How do we know what happened to him?

“Was he killed by an Auror?” Harry asked tentatively. “Oh no,” said Sirius. “No, he was murdered by Voldemort. Or on Voldemort’s orders, more likely, I doubt Regulus was ever important enough to be killed by Voldemort in person. From what I found out after he died, he got in so far, then panicked about what he was being asked to do and tried to back out. Well, you don’t just hand in your resignation to Voldemort. It’s a lifetime of service or death.”

(OotP, 112)

Now, what's interesting about this quote is how Sirius found this out. Why would he know that's what happened? Who could he have spoken to that would've known to tell him this?

Voldemort killing traitors is known, and many other characters mention it, but who would know Regulus turned traitor?

Other Death Eaters. Specifically, highly valued Death Eaters that are related to Regulus, like Bellatrix, who happened to be in Azkaban with Sirius.

I believe Sirius "found out" from Bella or other Death Eaters in a neighboring cell who told him that's what happened. I just don't really see any other way he'd come to this conclusion on his own. It's either that or wishful thinking on Sirius' part.

I think the inner circle Death Eaters were told Regulus was killed for treachery but nothing beyond that. I didn't really write about how I think the Dark Mark works, but I think it allows Voldemort to magically know when a Death Eater dies (and a bit more). I don't think he knew how Regulus died, just that he did. But Sirius mentioned he knew Regulus betrayed Voldemort, it means someone had to know. It means Voldemort likely knew Regulus was a traitor and told some of his Death Eaters. The same ones Sirius was in Azkaban with.

Regulus' betrayal and Death

“So what happened when you got back?” Harry asked. “What did Regulus say when you told him what happened?” “Master Regulus was very worried, very worried,” croaked Kreacher. “Master Regulus told Kreacher to stay hidden and not to leave the house. And then . . . it was a little while later . . . Master Regulus came to find Kreacher in his cupboard one night, and Master Regulus was strange, not as he usually was, disturbed in his mind, Kreacher could tell . . . and he asked Kreacher to take him to the cave, the cave where Kreacher had gone with the Dark Lord. . . . “ […] “And he made you drink the poison?” said Harry, disgusted. But Kreacher shook his head and wept. Hermione’s hands leaped to her mouth: She seemed to have understood something. “M—Master Regulus took from his pocket a locket like the one the Dark Lord had,” said Kreacher, tears pouring down either side of his snoutlike nose. “And he told Kreacher to take it and, when the basin was empty, to switch the lockets . . . ” Kreacher’s sobs came in great rasps now; Harry had to concentrate hard to understand him. “And he order—Kreacher to leave—without him. And he told Kreacher—to go home—and never to tell my Mistress—what he had done—but to destroy— the first locket. And he drank—all the potion—and Kreacher swapped the lockets—and watched . . . as Master Regulus . . . was dragged beneath the water. . . and . . . “

(DH, 171)

To the Dark Lord I know I will be dead long before you read this but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match, you will be mortal once more. R.A.B.

(HBP, 609)

So, there are a few things to talk about here:

1. Why did Regulus choose to betray Voldemort when he did? What changed?

As I mentioned above, I think Regulus was always empathetic, just not towards muggleborns (at least until he saw torture first-hand perhaps?), but he was towards Kreature. That worry over Kreature, that's the first big seed of doubt about Voldemort. Regulus cares a lot about Kreature and he's clearly clever. He's smart enough to realise Voldemort must think Kreature is dead so it'll be better if he didn't see Kreature, hence why he told the elf not to leave the house.

I think seeing Keature in a state after he was in the cave is what really caused the shift in how Regulus thinks about Voldemort. I think there were doubts before, I don't think Regulus was ever on board with being the one to torture and murder, he doesn't strike me like the sort, but as long as he didn't really need to partake and it was only "filthy mudbloods" he could kinda excuse it to himself. And whenever a pure-blood was killed or tortured (the first war killed more pure-bloods than muggleborns) he could excuse that too, "they were against us, after all". But then Kreature was hurt too, it was the final nail for Regulus. That's what he couldn't excuse to himself as "justified" anymore.

So Regulus continues being a Death Eater, but he is suspicious, he doesn't trust Voldemort's goals are what he always promised them, and he is uncertain about the means being justified anymore. He is unsure if he is willing to go as far as Voldemort is. So he watches, and study, and waits for his chance.

And that chance came when he found out about the Horcruxes.

After Regulus finds out about the Horcruxes Kreature describes him as "disturbed in the mind" and "strange", it's clear the something rattled him. A lot.

I think finding out Voldemort made a Horcrux pushed Regulus' betrayal to happen. Like, I think Horcruxes are very taboo magic, even among wizards who practice the dark arts. As I mentioned in the past, you need to essentially kill yourself to make a Horcrux. I think messing with your life and soul is considered perverse and twisted even for dark wizards, and Horcruxes even more so. I mean, I think it's uncomfortable to learn you swore your allegiance to someone who's willing to kill himself to gain immortality. It means that someone would stop at nothing to achieve their wishes.

And Regulus is already disenchanted with how far Voldemort is willing to go for goals he isn't even certain of anymore, and then he discovers the Horcrux. A magical item that says that as far as Voldemort went with the war, he could go further, because he is a man who'd stop at nothing, not even self-mutilation is too high a tool for him. That is frightening. Following the orders of someone like that, someone who doesn't care for you and is never going to say "maybe this is too far" is terrifying. The idea of someone like that ruling a government is even worse... no wonder Regulus turned traitor the moment he learned about the Horcrux...

So I think finding out about the Horcrux is why Regulus decided to turn on Voldemort and destroy the Horcrux.

As you can tell, his opinions on muggles or muggleborns aren't the main factor I believe changed Regulus' mind. The means, and how far Voldemort was willing to go is what mostly caused the change of heart. I think Regulus had too much heart for it, even if he thought muggles and muggleborns lesser, he took no sadistic joy in others' pain the way some Death Eaters do. And seeing pure-bloods like him could be hurt in the same way (the Order were mostly pure-bloods), I think was especially abhorrent to him.

2. Why did Regulus choose death?

Regulus chose to drink the potion because he wanted to spare Kreature. This is the same kindness and empathy that I've already discussed, but he could've ordered Kreature to take him back home, nothing stopped him from doing that... and Kreature would've, happily so. So why didn't he?

In the letter Regulus outright said he'd be dead by the time Voldemort reads it, he went into the cave with the full intention to die, he never planned to leave. Kinda like how Harry walked into the forest in Deathley Hallows... but why? Why did he choose death?

I think Regulus chose to die because he knew he wouldn't be able to hid his treachery from Voldemort. I mentioned already I believe Voldemort told his inner circle Death Eaters that Regulus turned traitor and died for it. Voldemort knowing Regulus is a traitor makes Regulus' decision to die make more sense.

The phrase "I want you to know it was I", makes me think Voldemort suspected someone had learned of his Horcruxes but didn't know who. Maybe Voldemort suspected there was a traitor who knew about the Horcruxes, and after Regulus died Voldemort investigated after the fact and figured it was Regulus that turned traitor. Maybe he even checked on the cave and saw Regulus was dead there, so he didn't bother to check on the Horcrux. I don't think he would've expected Kreature to have been there too, otherwise, he'd see no reason for Regulus to be dead. Because for Voldemort, it wouldn't make sense to allow yourself to die like that, he wouldn't really understand why anyone would choose to die if they had the choice.

So Regulus even kept the secret of the Horcrux being taken at all by his death.

Additionally, Regulus chose to die and take out the Horcrux while doing it to avoid being tortured and killed by Voldemort and the Death Eaters. By dying, he also protected his family from being hunted down to try and locate him. He died to protect himself and everyone he cared about from the treatment of Death Eater traitors. Which we know is not pleasant...

3. How did Regulus find out about the Horcruxes?

This is something I'm less sure of and is foraying into heavier speculation. The only hint we really get is: "I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret" from his letter, but what exactly does this mean?

Well, Kreature told Regulus everything he saw. He told him a locket was placed in a cave filled with magical protections. Kreature's information about the locket is probably how Regulus made/bought the replica. But how from "well protected magical item" Regulus reached the conclusion that it's a Horcrux? How did he discover the secret?

I don't know how he was discovered, as for the Horcrux, I have a guess.

Regulus said he discovered the secret, I think what he did was piecing the puzzle together not unlike Dumbledore. He knew from Kreature that Voldemort had an item he guards very securely, he might've heard from Bellatrix that Voldemort is immortal since I'm pretty confident she was told what the cup in her vault is. And I think Regulus, as a member of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, and a clever enough dark wizard, could trace a book about Horcruxes and figure out that's likely what the locket is.

Some random headcanons

1. I think Regulus could be just as much of a little shit as Sirius. I mean, there's a certain edge to how he words his note. I like to think, that when they were young, before Hogwarts, they'd pull pranks together in balls or other stuffy functions and get in trouble together.

2. I have little to no basis for this headcanon, but I'd like to think the painting of the Black family crest and motto above Regulus' bed was painted by Rregulus. I mean, he can do nice calligraphy on the sign on his door, I see no reason he couldn't also paint.

3. And finally, to a kinda sad headcanon, Harry actually saw Regulus in the cave:

the wandlight had slid over a fresh patch of water and showed him, this time, a dead man lying faceup inches beneath the surface, his open eyes misted as though with cobwebs, his hair and his robes swirling around him like smoke.

(HBP, 565)

I assume most of the corpses are muggles, and most of them are actually described as worse for wear than the one robe-wearing wizard corpse Harry describes above. For these reasons, I believe this corpse is Regulus. It's a sad thought, but it crossed my mind when I read this passage in my recent HBP reread.

[haveihitanerve]

Hair

Talia Al Ghul had let him braid her hair sometimes. Whether it was for a special event or for a holiday or just when they had time to spend together, without the threat of being overheard or interrupted.(Not that the interrupter would get away with it.) But for an hour, or however long they were granted, at least once a month. Damian Wayne didn’t have to be Ra's Al Ghul heir. He could just be Damian. Braiding his mothers hair. But mother was not around anymore. And Damian had no plans of ever being around her again. Even though he had enjoyed those days. She had been kinder then. Softer. More like a mother. But Selina had shown him what a real mother was like. And Talia had not been that. But he missed braiding hair. So his feet led him to her door. 

Selina opened it on the second knock and smiled when she saw it was him. Talia had never smiled just by seeing him. He had to have done something good, something to make her proud to get her to smile at him. But Selina smiled. At him. Because he was there. “Hello kitten.” She crouched to be at his level. Another thing no one had ever done in the League. They found arrogance in their height over him. But Selina, and Bruce, and his siblings all knelt to be eye level with him. “Hello Selina.” He said back. “What do you need?” She asked, still smiling softly. What do you need? Not, what do you want? Not, not now Damian. No. What do you need so I can help you? Damian smiled and Selina lit up. “I would like to braid your hair.” He said softly. Selina stood, nodding. “You came on the perfect day.” She headed back into her room, beckoning him. Damian followed her into the very back of her room, where she pushed a panel in the wall to reveal a second room. Damian blinked. The room was painted a soft black, stars and bats and cats stenciled every so often. It had a few dark red couches and beanbags, along with a black cupboard. But the most shocking thing of all was Cass, Steph, and Babs were all seated on the couches, talking and laughing. They stopped when they spotted him, but still smiled warmly. “Hey baby bird!” Steph called, scooting to one side of her seat. “Come join me!” “No me!” Babs called, shifting as well. Cass signed a few words and Damian smiled, heading over to sit with his sister. Steph and Babs pulled a face and Cass grinned in triumph, pulling Damian onto her lap. “Hello Batladies!!” Selina grinned. “Welcome to our own personal spa room. I already did this spiel but since we have a new member, Damian Wayne, I thought I should go over it again.” She winked at Damian. “This is a place where we can talk and gossip and laugh and cry. Any emotions and rants are welcome. Vent if you’d like! Sit in silence too! No judgment. Just relaxation and girl time! Plus Damian of course!” He smiled. “We should be expecting three more guests…” she trailed off as another door opened and Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy stepped into the room. 

Cass tightened her hold on Damian, just in case he wanted to attack. But he was perfectly content in her arms. “Damian, I’d like you to meet two of my best friends, Ivy and Harley.” Damian waved and Ivy and Harley gave him matching smiles. “Hey!” Steph called. “Love y’all’s hair.” The two women grinned and walked over, sitting down across from them. “Looking for ideas Steph?” Ivy mocked. Steph snorted. “Yeah right. Like I’d go fire red or crazy cotton candy.” The two women laughed and plopped down onto the sofa. “Now we just need Lois and we’ll be ready to start!” There was a knock and Lois Lane walked in. “Sorry! Am I late?” Ivy laughed. “Just on time Lane. Like always” Lois smiled. “Thanks Ivy.” She took a seat next to Babs at the girls' invitation and Selina grinned, walking over to the large cupboard. “Alright! Pick your favorite color gals and let’s start!” The cupboard was filled from bottom to top with beauty products, nail polish, hair curlers, face masks, eyelash curlers, and more. The women all jumped up, rushing to grab a color, Steph and babs climbing over the other to grab pink and Ivy and Lois arguing over the right shade of red. Selina laughed, a loud joyful thing and Damian smiled as he watched her. Cass just grinned, still sitting. Steph grabbed a hot pink and walked past, plopping a navy blue into her sister's hand. Cass smiled in thanks. Selina caught Damian’s eye and winked, beckoning him over. He slipped off Cass’s lap, walking over to her. She picked a color off the wall and knelt down, holding it out to him. “How bout it baby bird?” Damian examined the color. 

She had picked a nice bright forest green. Green was his favorite color. “It’s- a bit bright.” He said slowly. “I have an idea!” Steph was next to them, looking for a bright purple. “How about-!” She pulled a few colors off the shelf then settled on two. “Here.” She squatted next to him as well. “You can put the green down as the bottom layer, then put this black layer over top. So it looks black, but then in certain lights, it’ll shine green.” Damian considered it, then nodded. “Okay.” Steph squealed and hugged him, grabbing the colors and his hand. “Perfect!” She hurried over to her couch and threw babs feet off(causing babs to shout a string of words Bruce had pretty much banned in the house) and sat Damian down instead. “Hold out your hands.” She ordered. Damian did as she asked. “You’re gonna look so good Dami!” She said, grinning. If Damian didn’t know his sister was a wonderful person who only wanted the best for him he would’ve thought she was joking. Babs blew on her bright red nails, having lost the fight for pink, and reached for a face mask. “Wanna do a mask babe?” She asked him. “It’ll cleanse your pores. Make your skin soft and clean.” Damian nodded. “Okay.” Babs grinned and Damian allowed her to apply it to his face. “Ooh!!! No he didn’t!” Harley exclaimed. Ivy gaped at Selina. The woman nodded sagely, holding a glass of champagne. Ivy had painted her nails a dark green and was doing Harley’s in a mix of pink and blue. Selina hadn’t done anything yet, but looking at her he remembered why he was here. Steph had finished his nails, still forbidding him from looking at them, and was now gently blowing on them to dry them. 

“Wheres Jason by the way?” Babs asked Cass, putting curlers in her hair, a mask on her face. Cass shrugged, signing “he comes and goes.” “Todd does these?” Damian asked, looking between his sisters. Cass and Steph snorted. Babs grinned. “Oh yeah. All the time.” “He has some good gossip.” Harley drawled in her Boston accent. Ivy and Lois laughed. “Yes he does. It’s most interesting.” Selina laughed. Damian hadn’t seen her this relaxed in a while. “He’s off with his father right now.” She rolled her eyes. “Something secret.” Ivy wiggled her eyebrows, holding Harley’s hand. “Maybe he’s trying to be cute for you!” Lois said, laughing as Harley did her nails in a deep purple. Babs, Cass, and Steph were quiet. Selina gave them a look. “Maybe.” 

“Alright!” Steph announced. “You can look.” Damian looked down at his nails. They were painted black, but when he rotated his wrists a bit, he could see a green shine glowing underneath. Selina came over and ooohed. “Can you do that for me too, kitten?” She asked Steph. Steph lit up. “Sure!” “Can I braid your hair while she does?” Damian interjected. Selina nodded. “Of course baby.” She sat on the ground and Steph sat between her legs, taking her hands in hers. Damian sat on the couch behind her, running his hands through her thick brown hair. As he separated the strands into sections his nails glowed every so often and he smiled, looking at them. The chatter started up again, each woman talking over the other, laughing as drinks were poured easily. Cass handed him a juice box and he smiled in thanks, stopping his braiding for a second. Selina’s hair was soft, softer than Talias, and thicker too. But it was so much fun to braid. “Wowza birdie!” Steph exclaimed, looking at Selina’s head. “Holy.” Babs muttered. “Can you do my hair next bebs?” Cass asked. Damian smiled, nodding. “Sure.” And in that moment, surrounded by the women in his family, Damian felt he now understood the true meaning of family. And from then on Selina was given the title of Mother. 

(Talia became Talia)

[natsuki-kibutsuji]

Woman with the moon in her eyes

Part II

Previous: part I

A beautiful sunrise spread over the valley; birds took flight from a nearby tree; the spiderweb glittered with droplets of remaining dew...

Natsuki saw a wonderful morning in a ceramic bowl full of water. This is what her blood demon art looked like. She could see everything at any distance in the water; it acted like interconnected mirrors. She had been trying to hide this ability from Muzan for so many years, especially since she had seen the heir of Ubuyashiki. Despite her situation, she remained loyal to the Ubuyashiki family to which she was supposed to belong. Everything she dreamed of died along with her humanity - starting a family, being a good housewife, helping fight demons. Even the sunrise she was just looking at was taken away from her because she would never feel those rays of sunlight on her skin.

Natsuki, full of frustration and disagreement with her fate, spilled the bowl of water with a sweeping movement of her hand.

"Heavens, calm my frayed nerves, give me strength" she said.

If she was going to spend forever here, she decided not to waste any more time. She could take advantage of the opportunity given to her; live as part of the Ubuyashiki family despite being a demon.

Natsuki was aware that there was something Muzan was looking for. He never said what it was exactly, but he worked diligently in the lab. She wanted to stop him. It no longer mattered how much she had to sacrifice.

Natsuki took a deep breath and started searching the closet for the best dress.

Soon after, she managed to dress up like never before since her transformation. Looking at herself in the mirror, she felt very feminine. She chose a blood-red kimono made of the best quality material; while the right side was decorated with flying cranes. Her blonde hair was tied in a high bun, fastened with a hair needle with bells. She finished with a light touch of red on her lips.

Natsuki prepared a tray with a pot of matcha tea; she set down a cup made of the best foreign porcelain.

"Let's try to stir things up a bit"

She slowly moved towards the laboratory where Muzan was experimenting, somewhere deep inside Infinity Castle. As she walked through the halls, every door opened for her. Somewhere in the distance, Nakime could be heard playing. And with every step Natsuki took, the bells on her head rang; with each step, the doubts grew. It's the riskiest thing she tried in ages. One mistake and the demon king could stop considering her as his plaything. Not that she cared about life - not like this. The thought of missing the chance to help the corps terrified her more.

Before the last door, she felt Muzan's scent and his aura. Her cells reacted to the memory of the masculine scent she felt every full moon. Trying to control it, she shook her head and the door opened.

"I couldn't have expected a more unusual guest," Muzan replied, mixing the measuring cups without looking at Natsuki.

"Please excuse me for disturbing you, I've prepared some tea," she said, putting the tray aside.

Muzan looked dignified and elegant, as always. He wore a white long-sleeved shirt and a crimson vest, with black suit pants. Pink cat eyes peeked out from under his black wavy hair.

"We don't need such human things..." he replied dispassionately.

"We don't need a lot of 'human things', and yet..." she continued the topic, more eloquently.

At that moment she caught his attention, coming closer than she usually did without any explicit command. She ran her delicate hand over the vials and measuring cups.

One of the test tubes caught her attention on the counter. Its color seemed to differ from the rest; while most were red, this one was pale blue. Natsuki, without thinking for a long time, decided to take it to investigate further what Muzan was working on. Leaning fully on the counter, she looked over her shoulder at Muzan.

"Despite your fondness for Western novelties, I know you're old-fashioned, and we never completed our wedding duty..." she continued, trying to reach for the test tube.

"Is it so? I gave you freedom in this matter, considering the circumstances."

"Maybe my approach was wrong. I am a wife after all."

She heard a longer "hmm" from him. After a moment, she felt his hands on her tilted hips, slightly guiding her to spread her legs further. Muzan leaned closer to her, pinning her to the counter. His chest was close enough that she could feel him moving steadily on her back. For a moment, the thought that IT was about to happen passed through her mind; that together they became one.

Suddenly she heard a crash. When she opened her eyes, the test tube she wanted to steal was shattered under Muzan's hand. The blue liquid spilled and then evaporated. A moment later she felt Muzn's lips on her neck, kissing her lightly. It lasted a second.

"I can fulfill my marital duty, but I want more than that," he replied, and after a while he began to leave the room.

Before the door closed behind him, he added, "Stop thinking you belong to people who abandoned you a long time ago."

Natsuki slammed her fist on the counter. She stood up, full of dissatisfaction, and then she heard Nakime pluck the string of her instrument. In the blink of an eye she was in her room on her bed.

Nothing could have made her realize more clearly where the cage was - inside this bedroom.

[prettyboykatsuki]

ari i came sprinting over when i saw u mention dad zhongli pls spare some thoughts <3

the girl at the altar (the man she prays to) | zhongli (morax)

✭ tags ; extremely dark content ahead, father/daughter blood incest, dead dove: do not eat, noncon -> dubcon, mild injury / blood (zhonglis claws cut readers thigh), the word r*pe is used in the text, also he tucks some hair behind readers ear but no mention of actual hair-type, manipulation, grief / loneliness, regret and mourning, oral (f!recieving), reader is so poor little meow-meow, 18+

✭ wc ; 3.4k (an astonishing number)

✭ a/n ; idk if i got my point across in this one </3 but i tried so i hope someone likes it at least fdjsdk. also sorry if zhongli is ooc he is techincally in his godhood here

also this is like. genshin adjacent. it's not canon but it takes after canon.

✭ synopsis ; you are indifferent to your father. he thinks you have the most beautiful eyes, even when they gaze at him impassively.

You've never met your father.

Haven't. The word would be hadn't, now. You hadn't met your father until you turned 18. And since he's calling you to his chambers, now, you figure that never isn't the right word anymore.

You hadn't met your father until you turned 18. And that's what you would expect from an Archon. They're fickle like that

That's what you've always believed. Perhaps you lack piety.

You're not his only heir. Not his only girl. You're his 7th daughter, but you're the only girl left alive. You live in the Western Hall and do all your own chores. Your mother died when you were 9. And you had never met your father.

All your food was brought to you by an old soldier you lovingly called papa.

Papa was the man you latched onto when you were young. He was mortal and kind - so much older than you. He died before you turned 18, and the only time you have so much as called for your father was asking for money to give him a burial.

Your papa was a mortal man. He had a bald head and all sorts of wrinkles and scars from fighting. His wife died in childbirth. And you loved him terribly, enough to expose yourself as living to a god who seems to have forgotten about you your whole life. He was a public official, but he brought you food and blankets during winter. Brought you sandals when you outgrew your old ones.

Neglect is not the worst fate of a daughter. There is always death so violent metal lingers in your mouth for weeks. There is always assault, always rape. Always worse fates for a daughter than neglect. And even though Papa couldn't raise you, he loved you enough to look after you when he could.

So, after he passed - for the first time in your 18 years of life, you requested the audience of your father.

He was unreadable. Divine. You didn't feel anger nor sadness in your heart. There had been an absence of anguish. To you, at that time, he was just a man and he just happened to sleep with your mother.

Looking back, you wish you would've cried. Would've wept blearily into the sleeves of silks, just so he would look at you with disinterest instead of intrigue.

Men are the same in that way. Perhaps it is ingrained in the God of Contracts to conqueror.

Your father had an aspect of impossibility to him. Something about him felt hungry. Often bitter, but never so much so to be displeasing.

Cold, despite the warm color of amber in his eyes.

("You've requested me for the first time," He says, pouring something into a long pipe "After living like a mouse for nearly 18 years. I'm curious. What brings you here?"

An undeniable intensity fills the room, but you do not waver. You lift your head and open your mouth.

"I want enough money to bury someone,"

He raises his brows.

"Who?"

Your expression changes. You can't contain yourself in this matter. You weep this time, wiping your eyes delicately.

"...My papa,")

After that came the rennovations.

Suddenly, the West Hall was full of life. There were maids and cooks and clothes. And the garden was green, and the fish pond was clean enough to be clear.

At that point, he did not visit. He sent one of his men, a Yaksha named Xiao, to look after you. Small but strong, and fierce but kind.

The whole palace buzzed with the noise of your name for weeks. You had visitors and guests - and suddenly found yourself brushing off etiquette you learned over 10 years ago. When the initial attention died down - there were gifts. Jewels. Silks. Tailors.

Of your siblings, only one of your brothers visited. The one who had visited you all the time even before catching your fathers eye. He merely bid you warning.

Do not be fooled. Do not be swayed.

So you weren't. You tried not to be. Your father was however persistent. The lack of correspondence brought him to you - and in spending time with you, it became so hard to ignore his leering eyes.

He looked at you like many men had before. But there was more to it than just desire, something to great for your comprehension

He didn't know how to act fatherly. Having a daughter is nothing like having a son after all. He could not spar with you, nor could he anger you to challenge.

("What an impassive face you make upon seeing me." He muses, tucking hair behind your ear. You don't feel disgust. You aren't sure what that is, lingering inside you.

"What face should I make?"

"Desperation. Longing for my affection. Sadness, or resentment."

You look at him honestly, a disinterest in your gaze that makes amusement swim in his eyes. He isn't cold, nor is he kind. He isn't disciplinary nor is he unreasonable.

Maybe it has something to do with being an Archon. Why your mortal heart cannot figure out the intricacies of his feelings. Though stories of war and bloodshed ring so loudly in your ear, you don't believe he will hurt you. He isn't that sort of man.

He is not mad, nor belligerent. You glance at him.

"To me, you are an Archon and nothing more."

He reaches for you, fingers outstretched as he runs his knuckle against your temple, thumb brushing your ear and pulling on your lobe. Only stopping to admire the jewels that he's given you. He hums.

"It's that part of you," He says, reaching for your hand - bringing your wrists to his mouth and placing a kiss on the vain "I find so endearing, my child." )

Your father wants to feel like your father. He wants you to long for him like a daughter does. You think that part of him is rather transparent.

His names became more affectionate. My child to my darling girl. Instead of you, it is your name - carefully wrapped up in linen. Instead of passive disinterest, it is amusement. It is flower, or dear, or princess with a lilt of affection.

Your father wants you to regard him as an Archon. As a man. This part of him is rather transparent. Because you know many men and how they look at you. You know he looks at you in such a ravenous way. But those eyes, and the ones that seem to regard you with fatherly fondness, are not so different.

You don't think he is a belligerent. A war-hero? Certainly. Able to spill blood and be forceful? Of course. Yet what you fear is not his tyranny.

He is ruthless. Ruthless in every pursuit. Ruthless in longing for you. Of all the things that make your stomach churn with unease, there is nothing quite like the look in your fathers eyes. Something so predatory and possessive that it crawls into your skin.

(The first time a letter came, from a son of a government official, to ask your hand in marriage - you only heard of it days after.

Not from him, but from the Yaksha who watches over you. He burned the thing in the fireplace and did not so much as blink. No one will have you but him. The message was already so clear, then)

Your father has summoned you, now to his chamber. The man you hadn't met until you turned 18, in the dead of night.

You do not run away, even when some part of you deep down screams. Your father is your father. Your blood. An archon. A vessel. Your father desires his daughter. You think there is no such thing so true.

That means both too much and too little to you. It means too much and too little to him, too.

You are cut from the same cloth.

The doors slide open for you once you've arrived at his chambers. He's sat directly on the floor, a robe with gold thread over his shoulders. There's a bandage over his stomach, over the side and under his arm and a look you can't decipher on his face.

He sounds more lax than you usual. And it leaves you with a sense of foreboding. You bow your head and offer the usual formalities. He chuckle's and lowers his voice.

"Come, child."

You furrow your brow, but you listen as you walk to him.

"Sit."

So you do. Too unsure to be anything other than obedient. You sit on your knees and your father stares at you. He leans forward and takes a deep breath, nose bumping against your shoulder. Heat rolls off of him in waves and he's never felt so much like a man to you. Your heartbeat quickens.

"You smell of flowers. Qingxin."

"The servants put them in the bath tonight."

"It suits you.'

You frown as he pulls away so slightly.

"Why have you called for me?"

"I wished to spend time with my only daughter," He says, not so much as stuttering in his words "Is that so wrong?"

Your frown deepens.

"What do you see in me that makes you so insistent?" You say, unsure if you are strong enough to keep the tremble out of your voice. It occurs to you now, and only now - how all these months have felt.

After papa died, it has been so much lonelier than ever. An aching left inside of you that you never tended too. You wonder if your father knew of it. If that's the reason he showered you in so much attention. A ruthless man like that, who wishes to have you.

You're sure that's something he's capable of. It makes you feel sick

Alone in this room with him, you can feel it more than ever. You are his daughter, so you are his.

And perhaps - a lifetimes worth of burden has befallen you all at once. Perhaps reality has settled on you now as the line gets more blurred. Your indifference towards him cannot outweigh your grief.

But from him especially. In a lapse of judgement, you ask "Why me?"

And your Father responds with laugh. With a troublesome self-assurance.

"You're unlike girls your age. Resilient. Not delicate at all. You grew up to be a fine young woman without any interference from me. The first I'd ever seen you make so much as an expression, it was over your beloved Papa," He says, thinking it over. He places a hand on your neck - thumb against your throat like he's searching for your pulse "So I'm curious, yet angered. What man has taken your affection from me? What can I do to receive it again."

His anger is so residual it sticks to your limbs. If your papa hadn't died before, he would've been dead by now. Uncertainty feels like swallowing a sword.

"Why didn't you tell me someone asked for my hand?"

"A young, royal girl like you cannot just marry any suitor. He wasn't worthy of your time."

The words leave your mouth before you are able to swallow them "And you are?"

This time he smiles at you. And he closes in and you feel disgust and anxiety - but that's not it. Not all. Because there is some vague anticipation for affection. It's all so wrong. A life time of such misfortune. You do not think he's a man with good will, but your mind seems to wander often. About the affection he's shown you when you were so swallowed in darkness. It makes it frightening. Makes your desire indistinguishable from your resentment.

He cups your cheek in the palm of his hand. You can feel how strong he is and your breath hitches. Your eyes grow watery, and you find yourself crying.

"What a pleasant face you make when you cry, my dear," He says, so softly it aches as his thumb rubs underneath your eyes "You grew to be so beautiful."

"I am your daughter, am I not?"

"Of course you are," He replies easily, eyes lidded and low "That is precisely why you are mine."

You swallow a sob into the back of your throat as he moves towards you. Just a little closer, a little more. His hair is untied, and it flows down his back in rolling waves. You look so much like your mother. There's nothing of him in you, not really.

Except that you are his, somehow. Even you know that.

"Look at how you weep," He says, tenderly. A hint of condescension "Do you wish for my pragmatism or my adoration? Don't be fickle."

"Why have you called me here?"

"I missed you," He says simply, pressing a kiss to your cheek so gently it almost feels like you're nothing more than this "I thought to call on you. That's all. Should I comfort you?"

You know what's coming when he asks you this. Your whole body does, a flood of heat in your skin as the Archon of Liyue leans in to press his lips to yours. He kisses like a married man, you think. His lips taste faintly of alcohol. There is a steadiness to all of it, an assuredness to his actions prevents you from wavering. He is your father and he is kissing you like a married man. But you are no mistress. You are just his, and his alone.

And every feeling and emotion twisted up so terribly inside you is burst. You push him but the gestures is weak. A longing for his comfort, and a hatred for his absence. The difference between this two things is minimal and unclear.

Your hands eventually fall to your sides and when you no longer protest - he pulls away from you with a smile. You think he's enjoying himself, nose nudged against your temple as he presses a kiss to you.

"Come."

He pulls you into his lap and your silks slip off your body. He undoes the belt arond your middle and everything comes loose. The sheer of your undergarments leaves you exposed more than you've ever been, bare shoulders in soft light overhead. You turn away from him but you cannot go far. His arm is underneath you in a second. He parts your legs where you have them, feet flat on the floor underneath you.

You are so bare. You've never let anyone see you like this, not even the boys who you used to sneak around and kiss when you were younger. Only your Father, the Archon above his people, has ever laid his eyes upon your bare skin.

You rest in the crook of his elbow, tuck against his chest. You can feel the strength of his leg behind you as you lay into him - face close to his chin and neck. Like a baby being rocked.

He's careful as he pulls the material off further. Your nipples are hard from the exposed air, and visible. He uses a free hand to squeeze the fat of your breasts in his palms.

The gesture leaves you gasping in shame, to which he only laughs.

"Boys must be falling at your feet."

"Aah, hn - there's n-no boys like that."

He twists your nipple lightly between his fingers, a faint scratch from his claws that makes you hiss.

"A father should be there for his daughters firsts, then."

He ducks his head to take them into his mouth and the stimulation is too much. A shame washes over you, melancholy that makes your heart feel like it's at risk of ripping. It feels good. And he is delicate, so kind that you hate it. It doesn't feel as if he is forcing you.

At least it is lacking in violence. Lacking in the sort of bloodshed a man like him knows well. It is tender.

It is an act of love. In some sick, twisted, vile way. It feels like an act of love and you have been so deprived of such a thing. You cannot outrun your grief. Your need is not absent from you.

So when he licks at you so gently, you let yourself be comforted by the gesture. He puts a free hand on your stomach as he does so, reaching lower and lower until his fingers are at the seam of your panties.

"If a boy tries to take you to bed, he should do this much," He tells you, middle fingers pressing into the slick soaked silk against your cunt. He touches your clit carefully "Women are delicate. They break easily if you don't prepare them thorough."

He shifts then. Moves away from you and grabs a pillow - handing it to you. You blink at him blearily.

"Lay and make yourself comfortable. I will hurt you otherwise."

You listen and your father follows suit. It's too much, too suddenly. To see him between your legs like that - your calf resting over his broad shoulders. It makes you let out a miserable gasp. Shame so overwhelming it almost swallows you whole.

There is something so wrong. Something abominable - a bone-deep knowing of how warped love has become. No matter how many times you try to deny it to yourself - the man between your legs feels as if you belong to him. In knowing you are his blood he is able to touch you this way.

It is so divine, in a way. An archon and their heir. A father and his daughter. What are you if not the manifestation of his whims? Of course he's angry you've grown out of his sight - to be something else.

He spreads your legs and peers at you with a sense of satisfication.

"Are you untouched?"

You want to cry. You want to shove him away. You whisper, below your breath "Of course I am,"

"Good," He leans, kisses your clit so tenderly you almost forget. But you can't. Not quite "No man should ever enter here but me."

He takes his time to look. Pushes back the trimmed hairs on your mound with a fond glow. A possession in his gaze as he peers at you. The words tick in your head over and over. You belong to him. Like it couldn't be clearer. Again and again, you think this.

"How gorgeous you are," He says, leaning his head. He kisses the hood of your clit and you cry.

"It's dirty." You say, unable to say much more. And he laughs at you, like a father might. That sense of knowing, the distance of life between you. He sticks his tongue out and the act shoots a bolt of heat through your spine. It's long. Not like yours, not at all.

"Nothing about you is dirty to me," He says easily, letting his tongue and teeth feel around your thighs as you gaps "How could anything about you be dirty?"

You don't think you're meant to find comfort in that but you do. And you watch as he settles him, his nose nudge against the hood of your clit. You can feel the wetness pool underneath you and you are so ashamed. His hands grip your legs tight - claws leaving red indentations. The faintest pricks of blood drip down and stain everything red.

But your father pays it no mind. He's only really focused on you. There's intensity in his eyes, the soft wet heat of his mouth against your sex. His tongue slides against your aching clit, building a steady pace until you can feel something strange in your stomach. Like everything inside of you is coiling slowly. It's a strange, heady sort of feeling.

It makes you feel out of control. And you're not in control of your body or yourself. Only him. Only your father there to soothe his little girl. You open your mouth in a warning - softly pleading for something you don't understand.

"S-something. Hngh, something weird. Feels like I'm gonna pee."

Upon hearing your words, he doesn't still. He keeps pace and hums. It feels like you're rushing headfirst into something - at a speed so intense you can't get your hands on the railing. You grab at his hair because it's the first thing you can think of.

A breathy laugh leaves his lips as you garble something so unintelligible. You feel like nothing makes sense anymore. If someone asked you to distinguish night from day - it'd be pointless. All you can do is hold. Is listen to your fathers words obediently and diligently. Like how daughters so often do.

"That's it. Just like that." He whispers as you convulse, continuing to touch you until you practically have to pry him. A feeling of dread follows the sensation of pleasure so overwhelming.

When you look down, your father is busy licking his lips. He looks bemused by you. Hot tears roll down your cheeks as you lie there.

He reaches for your face once more, leaning forward to kiss you a little more forcefully than last time.

"I'll teach you slowly. Our own special father-daughter time. That will be nice, won't it? So don't fret. And don't run," He draws his thumb along the light lesions on your upper thigh and hips, blood covered digit touching his tongue "We certainly have much to catch up on."

You hadn't met your father until you turned 18.

You wish you never had.

[janahanooo]

Damn

So the baby's nam is Aurelia! What a beautiful name. Now lets see what do the boys think about the name of their your child

This became longer than I expected, sorry for typos, not proof-read

First years

Ace: wow, not gonna lie I thought it would be something lame

Mom!yuu: ace

Ace: right sorry, still the little one is adorable

Deuce: Aurelia... hmm, I think it's a perfect match

Mom!yuu: how come?

Deuce: I have a feeling they will brightly shine in the future

Mom!yuu: aww deucie! That is so sweet! I'm sure she'll love you the most as her big bro<3

Jack: it means golden one, right?

Mom!yuu: yep

Jack: it's a pretty name for a pretty girl like her, but I hope you get enough rest and don't pull allnighetrs 'cause of her okay?

Epel: I still think Negie would have been a funny name for her

Mom!yuu: epel, you do know Negie is a boy while Aurelia is a girl. And I don't want Vil nagging me all the time

Epel: fine, I will still make them a troublemaker tho

Ortho: oh my sevens! Prefect the baby is very cute! Mind if I take some pictures of her for big brother?

Mom!yuu: not at all, go a head

Ortho: done! Can I come visit more often?

Sebek: AS EXPECTED, THE CHILD OF BRIAR VALLIE MUST HAVE A BRILLIANT NAME

Mom!yuu: wait, just how many account did you make just to get this name in first place?

Sebek:

Sebek: that is not relevant, all I did was to ask Lilia-sama to help me vote a name that is perfect as the next heir to the trone with Waka-sama as the father

Mom!yuu: wha-?

Second years

Riddle: she looks very much like you, but would you tell me, why they have steak of golden hair?

Mom!yuu: oh. Oh, it's gonna be so awkward, you see, her dad had that hair color and that little steak is shoving that we still have something that remaines from him..

Riddle: I see, thank you for aswering my question

Ruggie: gold 'cause the hair? Or gold 'cus Leona-san gave you that golden crib the other day?

Mom!yuu: really? It was Leona?

Ruggie: yep, he was so weird the whole day until the baby had been born, so take the opportunity and tease him about it later

Azul: do you have enough baby food for her? I might as well like to tell you that we have a special menu just for the little pearl

Mom!yuu: thanks but I thinks she likes milk for now, so maybe when she grew up

Jade: yes it would be better, we don't want the little one to be hurt

Floyd: yeah shrimpy! So come visit us sometimes alright~?

Kalim: she's adorable!! She looks like my siblings when they were little! Oh oh! I bought these toys for her, and this blanket too and don't forget about these sweet jumpers too!

Mom!yuu: thank you Kalim darling, but I think tha's enough baby product for now, I'm sure she'll like them

Jamil: "golden one"... like the sun?

Mom!yuu: yeah, shining bright and guiding us to the better

Jamil: so she'll be Kalim 2.0... I actually wouldn't mind that..

Silver: she's adorble and her chubby cheeks are sweet too. The name is perfect.

Mom!yuu: yeah... actually, what do you know about Sebek and Lilia making multiple accounts to vote for the na-

Silver: zzzz...

Third years

Trey: I'm guessing the voting went well then, and Aurelia is a cute name

Mom!yuu: thank you I think she likes it too. Huh? Ari? What's wrong? Oh! I left her bottle in the kitchen! Could you hold her for me until then?

Trey: gladly. *takes Ari from Mom!yuu* you will cause so much trouble for us in the future... heh, can't wait

Cater: first! Selfie time!!! I need to post this undying lovelyness of Ari! #cutebaby #omgmybabyiscute !!

Mom!yuu: you really like her I assume

Cater: of course I love her! She's your baby! Who wouldn't?

Leona: all I ask is to NEVER bring her here when that Cheka is here. I don't need two cubs to look after

Vil: she's little

Mom!yuu: well, yeah. She has just been born, what did you expect?

Vil: *whispering* still, cute

Rook: oh Trickster! Mon bebe is just too cute for this cruel world! Oh! Little Aurelia is just too perfect!

Mom!yuu: thanks Rook. Oh look! She's waking up! Hii Ari! Say hi to Rook to Ari!

Ari: *some blabbering*

Rook: oui oui! This is truly a blessing!

Idia: do- do I really have to?

Mom!yuu: don't force yourself, it's okay. She'll grow up around you guys so you will have time together. Don't worry too much

Idia: right... and h-here is your um bottle that you ordered the other day..

Malleus: hmm, she truly is magnificent. Humans are so mysterious, right Lilia? Lilia?

Lilia:

Lilia: baby, must hold baby...

Malleus: !! Oh sevens, no Lilia! Don't you dare kidnap Child of mans child!

Lilia: but Mal!! She's just adorable!

Malleus: you must ressist.

Lilia: you're right.

Lilia: you look so much luke her... and even the name, heh. See you old friend...

Aaand everyones favouret weasel cat! Grim!

Grim: she's small. Very small. Is it okay to be this small? Is she really healty?

Mom!yuu: yes she is, but she's easily get's tired. So take care of her okay?

Grim: I will be the best caretaker ever! Don't you ever boupt me on that! Nyahahaha!

[xkaidaxxxx]

Jack Atlas x Reader

Royalty

Sorry for any ERRORS (late night writing)

Mentions: Foul language, Physical and Verbal Abuse, Self doubt,NSFW,etc.

”Obey my orders! You’re the first born. You didn’t work so hard your entire life for nothing!” Your father yelled. Slapping you in the process. You had a few marks on your arms hence why you wore gloves“Y-yes sir..I understand. Don’t beat me.” You said. “ Alright.” He said leaving the room. You cried still believing his words. One of your maids walked out of the closet where she picked out pajamas and treatment for your wounds. “ thank you.” You said grabbing the clothing and changed into them. “Come sit darling. Treatment time.” She said. Hannis is your personal maid. Always cared for you. You sat down.“ I hope he’s a kind, considerate, strong man. That he protects me. I can’t take this anymore.” You cried. You wish for him be your knight in shining armor. After an hour you went straight to bed. Your dream was wonderful. Dancing in the ballroom surrounded by shining stars. You fell landing on the ground. Seeing flowers around you. You heard a laugh and someone holding onto your hand. You woke up crying. You felt like it would never be . “ Princess breakfast will be ready soon.” One of the maids said. You got up feeling pain but ignored it. You fixed up your hair, light makeup,etc. “ You’ll be meeting him tomorrow. Going on a week vacation. No sexual activity will be tolerated. Sleeping in separate rooms. I expect you to behave.I don’t want his parents to think you’re not suitable.” Your father stated while you ate breakfast. You knew exactly how to act and what to do. The entire day you spent having fun. Painting, reading, playing piano, and most importantly screaming your pain out in the hidden part of the castle you found when you were younger. Tomorrow was finally here.

You sat in silence as the car drove you to the location where you’d vacation. “I’m aware no matter how this vacation ends we’ll marry so you don’t have to up the perfect pink princess act. It disgusts me.” He says. That knight in shining armor wish you had was quickly washed away. “Purple.” You replied, holding your tears back. “Huh?” He questioned fixing his gloves. “ My favorite color is purple. Offend me by saying "perfect purple princess.” You responded. You realized you messed up. “Remember your place.” He gripped your wrist. You yelped.“You obey me from now on.Don’t be such a baby. I’m not gripping hard.” He let you go. “I broke my wrist this morning. I didn’t want to ruin our trip by saying so..I’m sorry Prince Atlas.” You cried silently. Rolling his eyes he huffed. Months passed he was such an asshole,arrogant, disrespectful, abusive. At least not as horrible as your father. This was for the Kingdom. It’s people. It was beneficial for both kingdoms.You walked down the aisle. Wearing your white dress. It was breathtaking. It hugged your body wonderfully. Your guests gasped as they saw you. They all believed the love story. Tears slipped as your father walked you down the aisle. Tears of sadness,yet no one noticed. You and Jack held hands smiling fakely The wedding and coronation went according to plan. “All hail King and Queen Atlas.” Was said by the preacher. The guests and staff repeated. The entire time you were thinking about Prince Charming in your dream. That’s what got you through it all.

Day before the wedding “We expect an heir to the throne.”Jacks mother said. “Yes.” You replied and left the room with him.

After the wedding

In your now shared room. You sat at the edge of the bed dressed in comfortable clothes. “Y/n..I had a talk with a friend last week..it was a rude awakening. I apologize. I abused you..I have to live with the guilt forever. I never put myself in your shoes. You lost your mother..your father abused you for most of your life. You were forced to marry. You have to carry our children without wanting to. I should’ve helped you instead of adding fuel to the fire.” He said while kneeling on the floor. You were angry at everything he did.You want him to feel guilty until the day he dies. “Don’t expect me to forgive you like it was nothing.” You cried then slapped him. He didn’t hurt you at all, not physically or verbally. “Hit me until you're satisfied.” He said. You kicked, slapped and punched him. You threw heels at him. You threw some of your jewelry at him leaving some cuts behind. You threw a lamp at him. It hit him straight in the head.“ The pain you’re feeling is nothing. I’ve dealt with worse pain. This is the only time I gladly obeyed you.” You spoke, slapping him one last time. He silently walked to the bathroom cleaning up the blood from the small wounds you left behind. Honeymoon: The entire month was fun. Playing chess, dancing, horseback riding, swimming, baking,even bungee jumping, etc. Everything that made you both share your innermost self. Open up your hearts to each other. In such a small amount of time. Laughter spread throughout the castle's entrance. Jack embraced you. You both experienced fun. “ I see the honeymoon went well.” Your father spoke. You nodded.“we enjoyed every second of it.” Jack replied. “ The baby will be so cute.” His mother said.“ We decided to wait. We aren’t ready for a baby. Bring lunch to our room.” Jack commented.You guys came back with new versions of yourselves. They couldn’t believe how you rebelled against them.

“Lunch then dance in the ballroom? ” He asked as you walked upstairs. “Lunch, dance, then cuddle and watch a movie.” You responded. “ Anything for you” You blushed. He was getting to you. “ Jack..I like you.” “I like you too y/n.” He responded by carrying you inside the room then shutting the door, locking it. “ Can we try?” You asked, leaving a peck on his lips. “Yeah of course.” Setting you down carefully you bit your lip as he took your jewelry off and unzipped your purple dress. You were nervous yet turned to face him once the dress pooled on the floor around you.“ Beautiful.” Was all said removing his clothing. “there’s no way.” Your cunny clenched around nothing. Slick running down your inner thighs. You quickly laid down on the soft bed. He spread your legs revealing your pussy. His cock hardened. Precum leaking. Pulling your panties off you suddenly got very nervous. He sucked on your pretty little clit stimulating strong pleasure. You moaned and gripped his hair. You moaned and whined. “J-Jack” he loved hearing you moan his name. “I-ha!” He smirked, pulling away, stopping your orgasm. You whined. “You want it baby?” He smirked You nodded. “Beg.” You gave him a death glare“It’s your job to take care of me. Now give me what I want.” You replied pointing at your cunt. He raised his eyebrow loving your attitude and how you were correct. You whimpered as he inserted a finger. He began thrusting it, noticing the blood. He said nothing to not alert you. He added another. “ Deep breaths. Look at me.” You looked directly into his eyes. He guided you with taking deep breaths he thrusted his fingers. Stretchin you as much as he could. After a while you gushed all over his fingers. “ s’good Jack.” He sucked his fingers not caring about the blood. You gasped. “I’m bleeding !? Jack no don’t- its-‘ “It's yummy, baby.” He aligned his cock to your hole. You inhaled as he entered you then exhaled. You cried in pain. He was well aware that no matter the amount of prepping, he would still tear you. He gave you a passionate kiss and rubbed your clit trying to keep you distracted from the pain. It worked because soon after you were acting like such a slut for him. Asking for more and more. “Y-yes just like that.” You said. His cock hitting your g spot. He groaned at how tight you were. “Such a selfish wife I have. Gripping her husband's cock for dear life.” He teased you. You didn’t even care. Didn’t bother to respond. You scratched his back. There was a knock. “U-uh lunch is here my king.” The servant said. “ Can’t you hear -fuck my wife and I are b-busy. Hol- just leave it there.” He responded. You didn’t care that anyone could hear you. All you cared was how your husband was fucking you. “Yes my king.” The servant replied leaving in a hurry. He turned you over. Spanking your ass and pulling you back against his chest yanking your hair. “ Jack!” You yelled, releasing on his cock. He pushed you face down ass up. Thrusting faster and harder making you stupid. Mumbling incoherent words and drooling. Face red and eyes rolled back as he spanked you. “feel so good.” You hear him. He pulled out cumming on your back and ass. He made sure every drip of cum he had to offer was on you.You knocked out. He quickly grabbed a cloth and cleaned you up. “Y/n? Baby you okay?.” He said, shaking you carefully. You woke up and smiled lightly as he carried you to the bathroom. “M’sleepy.” He smiled, setting you on the counter. “I know.” You yawned hearing the bathtub filled. Suddenly you both were comfortably sitting inside. He washed you gently. He knew in the morning you both would be marked up. “I’ll do it.” You said “No darling. I’ve got it.” You use the little energy to yank his cloth to wash him up. He was loved by someone so deeply like he’s always wanted. He loves you just as much Taking things slow was out the window. It’s like you knew each other your entire lives.

After an hour he brought the lunch that was left outside. “It’s cold.” “It’s fine. I always finish every meal that’s given to me.” He fed you giving you a soft look, signifying that he will care for you til the end of time. You cried as he fed you. Turns out he was your knight in shining armor.

[madamealys]

Imagine you seduce Aegon II (+21)

(II)

***

These are trying days, trying times. King Viserys is dying and any time a merry couple will be in charge to rule seven kingdoms and show all the continuity expected to link the old with the new as your predecessors did successfully—at least most of them did.

Pressure is already smashing Aegon’s shoulders. He, who was never closer to his father, is now looked upon as his heir. Anytime now the pressure is felt.

You know this is where your influence must be felt. Working in the shadows is usually the best politics, you’ve seen others doing—your mother, notwithstanding her eccentric manners, still does successfully so—, so you are confident in this tactic.

“You haven’t been yourself lately”, you try to make him open up with you, aware how he likes to keep his issues drowned. “This is not your burden to carry alone.”

“Easier for you to say. You are not the next king”, he snaps back, impatiently so.

“I know”, you agree, patient. “I am not here to state otherwise. I just mean to help you, husband.”

It’s late night and he’s been drinking again. You try to distract of these demons, aware where they might take your beloved.

Aegon in turn sees your effort and quickly leaves aside ale. He comes after you, taking your embrace. It’s when he breaks down.

“It will be all right. Weep all there is left to weep”, you stroke his hair. “Tomorrow we might not have this chance.”

That night, another intimacy strengthens the bond you and Aegon have. When you finally wipe away his tears, it’s time to fight away his fears.

“I wonder whether wouldn’t be wiser to have Rhaenyra as queen instead”, he murmurs. “Or even Aemond.”

“Rhaenyra abandoned her claim to be lawfully married to Ser Harwin Strong”, you remind him. “She’s happily living at Harrenhal. As for Aemond… Perhaps his rule would be stricter than what is appropriated of a ruler. No, my darling. You are born to it. I believe in you.”

Aegon looks up at you, eyes showing a fragility you’ve rarely seen.

“How can you be at my side in my worst?”

“Because I love you. And I love your demons too. What kind of wife would I be if I left you to your own?”

Again he sobs.

“I am unworthy of such a woman.”

“No. You are worthy of every bits of heaven I can provide you.”

That being said, you share a kiss.

***

A week after the coronation.

Aegon smiles warmly as you are seen entertaining lords and ladies of all houses at the court. You are almost a Targaryen with your paled skin and long golden locks. Your eyes mirror the emerald you like to exhibit in your skin, but it’s the silk that falls smoothly down your curves that has every eye on you.

In truth you chose purposely that red gown with details in green and gold, matching a mix of colors of your house and your husband’s. As a queen, you want to be the one where fashion makes you looked upon—at least now that the reign of your beloved is rising and preparing to break with certain aspects of his predecessors that many had looked down.

But you want to have Aegon’s eyes all on you. That he knows that no woman equals your beauty and power of seduction. So this gown shows cleavage and the lioness of Casterly Rock charms all with this beautifully sewed gown, that makes men’s jawline drop and earns the admiration of the women who want to be like her.

“She likes the attention”, Aemond muses at Aegon, entertained at how you are the extreme opposite of the more discreet Queen Alicent, far more marked by her piety.

“She is the sun. Let her shine”, says Aegon proudly, his eyes glued on you, noticing how well your breasts look in the gown. But suddenly noticing he doesn’t like when men start to notice, he stands and moves right where you are.

“My king”, you curtsy elegantly, and Aegon’s eyes move down to your collarbone.

He swallows.

“My queen”, he takes your hand and there presses a kiss on it. “You are very radiant this evening.”

You blush, pleased to hear so. Aegon smirks, enjoying to know he affects you. Thus he leans to your ear and says:

“Wait for me tonight, with this dress on.”

“Your wish is my command, my lord”, you giggle quietly, locking complicity gazes with the man you love.

***

You wait for him like he requires. You are there, hair drop lose in cascade of gold locks behind your back, adjusting the line of your gown so your boobs are reinforced and nearly drop out.

The door is knocked and you ask a maid to check if it’s her husband. Once she confirms his presence, she is dismissed and Aegon comes to his wife.

When you turn at once, Aegon gasps out of desire. His eyes scan you, drinking of your view and you love it, you love to feel so desired, making your body warm and your feminine part wet.

“Goodness me”, he groans. “It took us so long. You are fucking gorgeous.”

He cups your face, kissing your lips passionately for a few moments, savouring the taste of your tongue on his, before slipping his hands to your neck and to your chest.

“Mmm”, he takes his time caressing your breasts, pleased to get some moaning out of you. “I see what you did here. Fuck, you looked like a goddess in this gown. You should have wore it only for me.”

You throw your head back, finding balance somewhere at the walls as he plays with you before getting his fingers unlacing your gown.

“I wanted to look beautiful for my husband”, you purr at the moment his cold fingertips find your warm back.

“You are my sun, and mine alone”, the king whispers in a possessive tone that makes you dripping wet in your legs.

“Would you care to elaborate?”, you feign innocence as his hands caress so slowly over your skin, wishing he’d go to where you want him to be… but very aware he’s taking his time.

Your hands are now playing with his short silver hair and your smile is running shy when seeing a glint of joy spark behind his lilac eyes. He is happy at last and so are you. It’s just you and him.

“I do like seeing you shining”, says Aegon, peppering your face with kisses, before doing the same to your neck, interrupting only to remove delicately the heavy gown you dress. “It makes a man like me gravitate to you, to worship you the way you deserve. But I hate that others might feel the same.”

“I am yours and yours alone to command”, you hiss lightly when his fingers start to remove your gown, finally exposing your breasts, which he promptly hold. “This I swear with my life. I love you.”

“As I am yours and you are mine, so do I. I love you”, he moans lightly when kissing your lips, muffling your sounds as his thumbs begin to dance around your nipples, hardening under his touch.

“Fuck, let me see this”, he feels rigid in his pants when seeing the gown slipping off your body, and how sensuous you look when leaning to short the distance between you two.

“Do you like what you see?”, you kiss his neck, now your hands running up and down his back, helping remove his shirt. “Do you?”

“Yes”, he groans loudly. “I want to taste your hardened nipples under my tongue and suck it until you squirm.”

You moan almost unconsciously at his words.

“Goodness me, Aegon.”

“What?”, he’s locking you against the wall, but your hands are faster in gripping his erect manhood and pump it right to your hand, earning him a low groan. “Y-Y/Nickname…”

Temptation has never felt so good. Though it makes you feel dirty as sin, how you get him moaning your name, the nickname he affectionately calls you… drives you crazy.

It only gets better when you slide to your knees.

“Y/N…”, he gasps, aching for you like never before. “What do you think you…?”

He barely manages to complete the sentence when curiosity gets the best of you and your mouth engulfs his manhood. And here you are, indecently so, as you become his favourite little wench.

“Ah yes!”, he throws his head back, hands moving straight to your hair, messing it as he takes a grip all of it, pulling it gently behind as you and him lock gazes. “That’s my queen! Yes, so good, so good! Never before had any lover so good like you…”

Aegon arches his back, flinching under your skillful tongue. And then… a few more minutes until you drink all of that he gives you.

***

To feel him throbbing inside you as you ride him is a bliss you are never tired in experimenting. You throw your head back, locking him tight with your thighs. Aegon groans too, mesmerized by watching how you’ve been turned to a skillful amazon.

He grips tight your hips, watching your breasts bouncing before impatiently rising and dropping his mouth of your nipples. A shiver runs his skin as your cries get louder, as you beg him never to stop, as his hands do wonderfulness in you.

It gets better when he turns you around, making you under his command and his thrusts get rougher, never stopping until you reach multiple orgasms just by his cock and hands.

Only then he sets his seeds down to your uterus, a feeling you love.

“Gods be good!”, you refuse to let him out of you, which makes Aegon quietly chuckle. “Stay, honey. Stay.”

Looking up at you with pure devotion, Aegon smiles at you, completely infatuated.

“I will never leave you, wife. Never.”

And that being said, he pursuits your lips in the sweetest kiss you’ve ever savored…

[theradicalkanji]

I have a bad habit of making my DND character's (at least ones in longer campaigns and not just one shots) have tragic backstories. I've mentioned my sparkbug's tragic backstory but not my centaur's.

When Vaun entered the campaign he was introduced as the twin brother of the centaur chieftain's heir. The title of chieftain isn't a patrilineal thing, but Diarmud (Vaun's bro) is absolutely being groomed for the mantle. He's the biggest, baddest, strongest warrior in the tribe. He's got the respect of the clan and everyone expects him to take over.

Vaun meanwhile has been focused on doing everything in his power to help his brother succeed to the point that he hasn't done anything for himself and really hasn't gotten any acknowledgement or respect from his tribe or his peers.

Both physically and personality wise, Vaun is Diarmud's opposite. Diarmud is huge and strong. He's massive and muscular. His horse half is an enormous Clydesdale. Vaun is much smaller and sleeker. His horse half is more of a thoroughbred. He's also very quiet and soft spoken.

Even color wise they are incredibly different. Diarmud has black hair and a dark coat of fur. Meanwhile Vaun has long, flowing pink hair with a light chest it brown coat.

It's understandable that people don't think they're twins ... Because they're not.

Vaun is from a neighboring tribe. Diarmud's tribe, the faolan, is from the mountains and thrive in the harsh, rocky environment. Vaun's tribe was from the Highlands at the base of the mountain. The large, rolling grasslands are perfect for herding and his tribe were known for their skill with raising cattle and sheep.

They were nearly completely wiped out by raiders. The faolan, self appointed protectors of the Highlands, arrived and quickly slaughtered the raiders, but it was too late to save the tribe. There were only a handful of survivors, one of which was Vaun. The chieftain had a son that was much the same age as Vaun, and so he took Vaun in and adopted Vaun into his family.

Vaun has no real memories of his tribe. He just has the stories that others have told him and so he finds himself daydreaming about what his life would have been like if he had been free to grow up on the plains, and has created maybe a romanticized ideal of what his tribe used to be. He's got a natural talent for farming and a love of animals as well as an uncanny ability to tame even the most unruly beasts. His talents would be perfect for a plains centaur, but his father doesn't see these skills. He holds Vaun up to the standards of the faolan which value strength of arms above all else.

Vaun wishes he could earn his father's respect, but it's hard when everything he's good at is seen as pointless by the warlike faolan. To make matters worse, Vaun's brother is the pinnacle of martial prowess.

The destruction of the plains tribe is also a sore point for the chieftain. He sees it as one of his biggest failures both as a warrior and as a leader. Whether or not the chieftain projects any of this onto Vaun is irrelevant because Vaun projects it onto himself. Vaun knows that he is a walking reminder of failure.

Vaun has nothing but love and respect for the man who saved him and raised him but doesn't feel he'll ever be worthy of him. This leaves Vaun stuck between feeling like he'll never be good enough for his new family and feeling like he's missing the life he should have had if his tribe hasn't been massacred.

It's funny and fitting that the other players at the table have made Vaun the de facto party leader since Vaun would never believe that his skills would be something anyone would want in a leader. A powerful healer and a shrewd tactician, he's focused on making sure everyone of his teammates get home safely.

Also his busted high animal handling stat has saved the day a hilariously high number of times.

[romanovsonelastdance]

Say I read an old post of yours. Why did you think that Princess Elizabeth of Greece and Denmark (I only know her as the duchess of kent's sister)made more sense than Princess Ileana of Romania(idk who she is ), I am pretty much curious of Ileana girl and a bit of Princess Marina's sister, that is because I am pretty much into marina and so far i haven't read much about this sister. I am currently reading the 1910s possible marriages and marriages and future mariages I have finished readingthe early years. By the way who is this Alexei to my fav princess marina and to her sister?

Elizabeth (or either of her sisters Olga or Marina!) seem like more likely possibly brides for Alexei to me for a couple reasons:

They are closer in age. Alexei was born in summer of 1904, and Ileana was born in December of 1908. That's 4.5 years difference, which is not a lot, but he'd be of marriageable age before she was. Alexei, as not only the only son and heir, but a sick one, would be expected to marry young. Elizabeth, on the other hand, was also born in 1904, Olga in 1903, and Marina in 1906. Alexei would have to wait longer to marry Ileana, and hemophiliacs in that time period didn't tend to live that long. We'd all love a love match, but time is also a factor here!

Alexei knew Elizabeth (and Olga) better than he ever knew Ileana. He only met Ileana on that one trip, when he was not-quite 10 and she was 5. Alexei had known Elizabeth and Olga pretty much his whole life; there are photos of baby Olga with little OTMA before Alexei and Elizabeth were even born. They were actually IN Russia in 1914 when war was declared. Their father, Prince Nicholas, said that Alexei and his older two daughters (Olga and Elizabeth) were "great chums" and in 1916 Alexei specifically asked Nicholas to give the girls his love. There's also a cute story of little Alexei trying to tell little Elizabeth he loved her in 1908, but she didn't understand enough Russian at the time!

The girls were probably the most "Russian" foreign princesses possible! Their mother was a Romanov grand duchess and while their father was a Greek prince, HIS mother was also a Romanov grand duchess. Both of their Greek aunts married Grand Dukes. Their Russian grandparents (Grand Duke Vladimir and Grand Duchess Maria Pavlovna the Elder) were leaders of Russian society. Their uncle Kirill was the one who named himself Emperor after the revolution. They grew up among the Russian family--if one of them married Alexei, they would already know people and be comfortable there. They would know the customs, the various palaces, etc. Ileana had never been to Russia as far as I am aware, and while she, too had Russian connections (her grandmother was a Russian grand duchess and one of her aunts married a Grand Duke) they just weren't as strong as Marina and her sisters' were.

There isn't much out there about Elizabeth (nicknamed Woolly), compared to the other two sisters. But if you're interested I'd recommend "Princess Olga of Yugoslavia: Her Life and Times," which has a lot of quotes from Olga's letters and diaries so you get a lot of information about her sisters, too. But the consensus was that Elizabeth was the nicest of the sisters, very sweet, loved horses and gardening and was a talented painter. All three sisters were considered great beauties of their time, with Elizabeth having dark brown hair and amber-colored eyes.

Alexei and the Greek sisters were second cousins twice over; both their parents were first cousins of Nicholas II.

Alexei, of course, was the only son and heir of Nicholas II of Russia. If there hadn't been a revolution, he would have been one of the most sought-after princes ambitious mothers would hope their daughter would marry. Probably only the Prince of Wales would be a greater 'prize!' And that's another reason one of the Greek princesses makes so much sense in my head: their mother Elena and grand mother Maria Pavlovna the Elder would have LOVED IT if one of the girls married Alexei.

[kalinara]

I'm starting to get a little obsessed with Rings of Power, I have to admit. I'm not entirely sure why - perhaps I just really have a need to rejoin a fandom that is full of hyper-pedantic purists who nit-pick endlessly over contradicting canon material, racist "historians" who apparently never heard of the Moorish invasion, Mongol invasion, the Silk Road, or any of a thousand other reasons why actual historical people of color might have ended up in medieval Europe, and the usual victim-blaming villain apologists. (I won't lie, I also think the Feanorians are pretty compelling. I draw the line at blaming the invaded people for not wanting to hand the magic rock over to repeated mass murderers though.)

Eh, maybe I'll stick to my own corner. There's some good fic out there though.

These are my initial observations from the first episode:

1. There's more indirect Silmarillion references than I expected. From fan reaction, I thought they were scrapping the entire thing. But it seems like most of Elrond's fucked up backstory is intact. Or at least not contradicted. (I think there's even a Feanor namedrop in a later episode?)

2. Galadriel is so pretty, OMG. And her armor doesn't have boobs!

3. Elrond is adorable. Of all the fannish complaints, I have the most sympathy for the one about Elrond having Steve Harrington hair. I feel like it might be a character beat though. They seem to be leaning a bit into the idea of the Peredhel being not quite accepted in general elf society, so maybe that's meant to be a tiny little rebellion?

3b. The idea of the Peredhel not being particularly accepted does seem like a deviation from the Silmarillion, but then that was pretty broad strokes. We know EVENTUALLY Gil-galad and Elrond will be homoerotically joined at the hip, but it might take a while to get there.

3c. I would like him to grow it out eventually though. The current look doesn't suit his face. I think something longer and pinned back a bit might work better with those angles.

3d. The idea of Elrond not being an "elf lord" seems particularly offensive given the poor guy is arguably the heir of every elf kingdom under the sun. Then again, none of those elf kingdoms actually exist anymore. Except the one Gil-galad's running. But I actually really like the poor put-upon clerk with quiet ambitions aspect of his character. It's pretty rare to see open ambition treated as, if not a positive trait, then a neutral one.

I feel like there's this thing, in popular western media, where we adore the wise and powerful figures - the wise king, if you will, but we don't like the idea of someone actually wanting and trying to achieve that role. The only good powerful person, we say, is the one that doesn't want it. They get it by chance, by birthright, by being in the right place at the right time. Even if they "earn" it, it's generally by doing something heroic, completely unrelated to governing people or dealing with politics. THOSE sorts are almost invariably the Wrong Choice.

But what if you want to enact real, positive change? What if you want to protect people or take care of people? How do you do that, if you're not in a position of power? How do you get power, when you're not really allowed to want it?

(I might be projecting too many good motives onto my historically favorite character, but I have future canon knowledge that he does a pretty decent job when he actually IS in charge of shit, so there you go.)

4. I love that Galadriel and Elrond look like they're the same height. Google tells me he's 6', and she's 5'4". I'd never have guessed. Nice camera work. Or phenomenal job at hiding the stilts.

5. I love that elf aging seems to be completely arbitrary. Elrond and Galadriel look like babies. Gil-galad looks middle-aged*, while Celebrimbor...well, I guess being only non-murderous Feanorian is really stressful?

5b. It hurts me to say that as Gil-galad's actor is maybe a year older than I am. But alas, that's life.

5c. Celebrimbor also has short hair. Maybe it's a Feanorian thing? That'd be kind of interesting. Did Tolkien ever specifically SAY they had long hair?

6. I have no idea who Arondir is. It's probably worth noting that I haven't read the Silmarillion since college, which might explain why I'm not really nitpicking anything. Whether he's one of the umpteen tragic elves from that book, or a canon newcomer, I don't care. I want to keep him.

6b. I'd like to see that elf who said that there were only two elven-human marriages and they ended in death and despair to say that to Elrond's face. Wait, no. I think he might cry. Say that to Idril Celebrindal. I fucking dare you. (Tuor would absolutely hold her flowers.)

7. I wasn't expecting the hobbits. No one mentioned the hobbits.

8. Also, no idea what the Southlands are, but it's an interesting story beat. From an average human perspective, what makes one powerful overlord better than another? Especially given some of the shit the good-guy elves got up to over the years.

9. Everything looks really pretty and nothing's really happening yet, but this is Tolkien. I sat through the extended editions of the movies (...might have fallen asleep at one point, but that's between me and the Professor), I can wait a few episodes before things start to happen.

Anyway, I'm looking forward to seeing the next one.

[clottedcreamtea]

after like a month??? of posting nothing, i present to you... 

CHAPTER ONE OF MY NOVEL!!!!!

i love royal mik tea and i am currently going through a difficult time in my relationship!!! ai absolutely ADORE my boyfriend but am having an awful time expressing it. my solution: write and pretend i am a happy cookie with a freinds to lovers plot instead of boyfriends to friends plot irl. things are rough rn. fr. 

i may go into the air force. hopefully this will be done by then.

enjoy!!!!!!

Prince of the Republic, that was what the servants called him. 

His pompous outfits and arrogant attitude left every Cookie on the island either jealous or angry at the young Cookie’s privilege and place of power. While description alone is enough for all other Cookies to understand who he is, some require to be told of him by name: Royal Milk Tea Cookie.

Seemingly arriving out of nowhere, the blue and white-adorned heir to the throne of House Oyster had gained a name for himself very quickly after Oyster Cookie introduced her only son. He was happy and easygoing, proud to please his mother with every task she assigned him. All the Cookies hated it. Oyster Cookie had not shown any signs of expecting a young heir, and yet here he was! Taking the throne and becoming a favorite child of the Convocation.

“Royal Milk Tea Cookie,” Oyster Cookie would call across the manor. “Would you bring mother her morning tea?” 

“Yes, mother!” Royal Milk Tea Cookie would respond, quickly making his way to the kitchen with a tray of mugs on it, presenting them all to his mother whom he admired dearly.

The servants and Cookies would always spread rumors as far as they could before the Convocation of Elders would put a stop to it. Witches forbid that the name of House Oyster was plastered with the idea of nepotism and favoritism. House Custard owned those labels all for themself, already.

Houses Oyster, Custard, and Mille-feuille were the top-reigning Elders in the Crème Republic. They provided some of the most valuable assets, along with the most promising trio of young Cookies that would soon represent the Republic once they had grown to replace their parents and mentors. They could not allow rumors of poor representation to dirty their reputations. Apart from House Custard, of course.

Clotted Cream Cookie, the son of House Custard’s Elder, Custard Cookie, was being groomed to become the Consul of the Convocation of Elders. He was a beautiful Cookie, with a golden crust and cream-colored frosting hair. His father promised that nepotism was never going to be a factor in his training, though many Cookies suspected otherwise. Clotted Cream Cookie becoming the Consul was going to be based on skill alone, and if he wasn’t able to show that he had the talent, Custard Cookie promised he would find a new heir to his plot.

Mille-feuille Cookie’s pride and joy was Financier Cookie. She was similar to Clotted Cream Cookie in appearance, but couldn’t be more different in her training and discipline. She respected Mille-feuille Cookie intensely, as well as the fellow paladin-rearing House Madeleine and the paladins it had trained so many years before her. Mille-feuille Cookie believed that Financier Cookie had been created in the exact image of the Witches themselves, though the Convocation would never suspect she meant anything other than a strange compliment.

The three children of the Republic were topics of constant controversy, though they were entirely oblivious to the fact. Instead of investing their lives in the stress of their predecessors, they decided to fraternize with lower-ranking crowds along with each other, especially when their parents would organize their monthly political meetings, bringing their charges with them.

“Come on, Financier Cookie! We’re gonna be late to the party!” Clotted Cream Cookie called to his appointed guard. Financier Cookie’s training had begun about one week prior to this gathering, and Mille-feuille Cookie and Custard Cookie had agreed her first appointment should be guarding the soon-to-be Consul.

“It’s not a party, young sir. It’s a meeting for all of our parents to discuss their, um, politics.” Financier Cookie still wasn’t exactly sure what her guardian did, but she felt she had to sound smart as a house-appointed paladin.

“Well, it sounds like a party! Plus Royal Milk Tea Cookie is waiting for us to get there. You know he gets lonely without any other kids in Oyster Manor!” Clotted Cream Cookie darted to the door of the aforementioned manor, where all the Elders were being ushered inside, having their coats, hats, and other accessories taken from them at the door.

“Clotted Cream Cookie!” Custard Cookie called from just inside the large home. “Where have you been?”

Clotted Cream Cookie rolled his eyes at his father’s overprotective scolding. “I was admiring the gardens with Financier Cookie! Royal Milk Tea Cookie talks about them so often, I had to see them for myself!” The golden Cookie responded simply.

“I was with him at all times, sir Custard Cookie,” Financier Cookie assured with a polite nod.

Custard Cookie scoffed and adjusted his coat. “Alright. Don’t wander too far, tonight. Your future is a topic of conversation tonight, and I want to be sure you are here when I propose my plans.”

Clotted Cream Cookie nodded, and then took off toward the southern wing, where the entrance to the gardens in the back of the manor lay. Royal Milk Tea Cookie was almost always found behind his home, wandering around with all the imported tropical flowers that his mother would order her sea-faring Cookies to bring home for her only child. It was the least she could do, as she was almost always busy with her business affairs and collecting blackmail for every Cookie she interacted with.

“Royal Milk Tea Cookie!” Clotted Cream Cookie called out. “Where are you?”

“He may be hiding in the greenhouse, young sir,” Financier Cookie suggested. “Don’t you remember last month, when he– AH!”

Royal Milk Tea Cookie burst out from behind the pair, erupting from a berry bush and grabbing hold of Financier Cookie.

“I got you! I got you!” Royal Milk Tea Cookie boasted. “You’re so difficult to catch off guard, but I got you! Oh, you should have seen your faces!” The young Cookie began laughing so hard he had to sit on the ground, otherwise he’d lose his balance. Collecting himself after wiping a tear from his pale blue eyes, the young prince stood up to greet his friends properly.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’ve been waiting here for almost an hour! I bet mother is upset with us not being at the party, isn’t she?”

“Custard Cookie told us not to call it a party, young Sir,” Financier Cookie noted to Royal Milk Tea Cookie.

“Poo! I don’t care about Custard Cookie and what he thinks! It’s my mom’s party and I want to call it a party,” The dark-haired Cookie scoffed, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes.

“Royal Milk Tea Cookie!” A mature and proper voice called from the manor. “Your mother requests your presence!” Oyster Cookie’s head disappeared back into the manor, presumably returning to greet her guests and make small talk while gathering private information for each house she socialized with.

Royal Milk Tea Cookie grabbed Clotted Cream Cookie and Financier Cookie’s hands and began guiding the pair back toward the manor, where dinner was nearly finished cooking.

“Your mom is so much more polite to you than my father is,” Clotted Cream Cookie observed, studying the hand pressed against his with a flush of red in his cheeks. 

“Yeah,” The blue-eyed Cookie said simply. “She wants me to be a good Cookie when I’m older, so she tries to set a proper example.”

As the trio finally entered the manor from the doorway that Financier Cookie and Clotted Cream Cookie had exited just a few minutes prior, their ears were flooded with political conversation instantly. Mille-feuille Cookie was discussing plans for investment opportunities across the sea, Captain Caviar Cookie was assuring Mulled Juice Cookie that his trip to the Duskgloom Sea would yield impressive results, and Oyster Cookie was chatting aimlessly with Custard Cookie, making idle prattle to her most despised colleague.

“I’m here, mother!” Royal Milk Tea Cookie adjusted his royal blue skirt and pearl jewelry as he presented himself to his mother and the elders.

“Oh, my wonderful child!” The silver elder smiled widely as she tapped against the champagne flute in her hands, ending the discussion and bringing the attention toward herself. “My fellow Convocation members, we have had quite the year, with Custard Cookie, Mille-feuille Cookie, and myself all yielding impressive heirs to our houses. Captain Caviar Cookie is set to depart on his Duskgloom Sea venture once the month ends, and I will happily fund the trip as a proud Cookie of the sea.”

As she spoke, Oyster Cookie’s servants brought out a feast one plate at a time, jelly steaks, candy fish, and iced cakes all covering the long table at which the elders would soon dine.

“For tonight, I would like to simply invite you all to celebrate with a feast brought about by Captain Caviar Cookie’s expert hunting skills, and my wonderful investment. Enjoy!” The wondrous host took her seat and began to set food atop her plate as well as Royal Milk Tea Cookie’s.

“Do you want to sit next to me, Royal Milk Tea Cookie?” Clotted Cream Cookie turned to his friend, face still pink and hands still clasped together.

The Oyster heir smiled and nodded. “Of course! Financier Cookie can sit with us, too!” Royal Milk Tea Cookie gestured with a gloved hand for the long-haired Cookie to sit on the opposite side of Clotted Cream Cookie.

The adults didn’t speak any differently now that food was coming, but Mulled Juice Cookie certainly seemed to become much more chatty now that the sparking juice had been set out. “You said this was from the era of the Vanillians, Custard Cookie?”

“The very same we of House Custard descended from, yes,” The blond elder said proudly. Clotted Cream Cookie puffed out his chest with his father’s brag.

The father and son shared several glances as the night went on, and Royal Milk Tea Cookie couldn’t help but wonder what the two were cooking up. It was well known that the trio of children were all from the main houses in the Convocation, but what could that mean? Custard Cookie did love to grab at power… Royal Milk Tea Cookie shook his head and returned to enjoying his jelly steak, constantly smiling at Clotted Cream Cookie. (He would never admit it, but he had a little crush on his close friend.)

The young heir’s curiosity was soon answered, as Custard Cookie ended the conversation he had been having with Sable Cookie, and stood up to gather everyone’s attention.

“My fellow Cookies,” The bearded elder began, clearing his throat. “It is no question that one of the more powerful houses is mine, as a true descendant of the Vanilians,” Murmurs began, and Vanilla Sugar Cookie grumbled unhappily. She had been on the trip to the Creme Republic just as Custard Cookie had. “I have thought it over, and, to ensure that power can be withheld throughout generations of the Creme Republic, I propose an arrangement between heirs,” Custard Cookie finished with a tilt of his voice.

“An arrangement?” Oyster Cookie asked, scoffing lightly. “Power does not need to be upheld throughout generations. We are an oligarchy! The only name that references power is Royal Milk Tea Cookie’s nickname throughout the Oyster Manor, and even we know that’s a joke!” 

“Oyster Cookie, your Prince of the Republic could very easily become a true king if you would accept the arrangement I am suggesting!”

“Father-”

“Not now, Clotted Cream Cookie. You agreed to this.”

Royal Milk Tea Cookie tightened his grip on the blond Cookie’s hand in support. Financier Cookie looked as though she was going to be sick, which was impressive, as Royal Milk Tea Cookie had only ever seen her be near-emotionless.

Mille-feuille Cookie spoke up, “You are suggesting an arranged marriage between Clotted Cream Cookie and one of our children?” She asked, intrigued. “Well if your handsome son will have her, I’m sure Financier Cookie would be flattered to become the next Queen of the Republic!”

“No, stop!” Oyster Cookie stood up angrily. “This is an abuse of power! You can’t force your child into a false marriage just so you can remain powerful!” The other elders were growing restless. Custard Cookie was out of line and he knew it, but he didn’t seem to care.

“You would overtake the Republic’s Convocation system out of greed?” Captain Caviar Cookie clarified.

“We built this nation together!” Vanilla Sugar Cookie cried, outraged.

“Oh, please. Oyster Cookie, you are welcome to accept the proposition over Mille-feuille Cookie. We’re the top houses in the council! Your girly excuse for a son–”

Oyster Cookie slammed her hands on the table so intensely that several cups fell off the table, shattering as they hit the floor. The room was silenced.

“Everyone out.” The elder spoke simply and angrily, voice low and eyes narrowed. No one moved.

“Oyster Cookie, my dear,” Custard Cookie approached the elder, grinning like a fox. “Please, consider the power we could–”

SMACK!

“I said out!” Oyster Cookie’s hand was outstretched from slapping the Cookie across the face, and he stumbled with the force. Stuttering, Custard Cookie clumsily reached for his son’s arm and began to drag him out of the manor without another word. Clotted Cream Cookie was so shocked at the change of events that he had no time to say goodbye to Royal Milk Tea Cookie, only able to look back in sadness.

Mille-feuille Cookie stood up politely, ushering Financier Cookie out silently. The rest of the elders filed out as well, none of them wanting to further anger Oyster Cookie. The only elder that dared spare a glance of pity was Captain Caviar Cookie, who just gave a nod to the grey-haired Cookie and a ruffle of Royal Milk Tea Cookie’s hair.

Servants cleared out the dining room, picking up the shattered glass and clearing the uneaten food off the plates, leaving nothing left on the table apart from the tablecloth.

Royal Milk Tea Cookie approached his mother, holding her hand and looking up in sympathy. “Mother?” He heard Oyster Cookie sniffle. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, darling.” Oyster Cookie assured her son. “Mommy just gets protective of you. My mother wasn’t the best, and I want to be better than her, even if that means I have to be a little mean sometimes. How about we get you to your room for the rest of the evening, okay?” She brushed aside a lock of brown and white hair from Royal Milk Tea Cookie’s face.

“Okay, mother.”

The two climbed the double spiral staircases at the manor entrance, walking down one of the long halls until they reached a room at the end of the manor, where the bay window lie, as well as one of the best views to the manor’s front and back gardens. Royal Milk Tea Cookie began to search his drawers for pajamas, and his mother began to exit the room.

“Mother,” Royal Milk Tea Cookie started before his mother had a chance to leave him alone. “Will I get to see Clotted Cream Cookie again? Custard Cookie looked mad.”

Tears pricked the corners of Oyster Cookie’s eyes, and she shook her head. “I’m not sure, darling. We can talk it over in the morning.” Oyster Cookie shut the door quietly, and Royal Milk Tea Cookie was left alone.

[its-a-ittle-bit-cold]

Protective: Fitz Vacker

masterlist

warnings: bad writing, violence, kidnapping

a/n: Horrible writing, but my first time writing for any KOTLC character. 

You and Fitz are… complicated. The two of you spend almost every day, all the time together, and through your mental connection, even more. There was never a doubt in the world that he would never be there for you, even when he was mourning and distracting himself with anger.

But this time, you’re not so sure.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” You can’t even describe how much you’re seething at your best friend right now.

You don’t even know how it started, but it ended with Rhys, your new friend in Phys Ed, avoiding you, only citing the name of the Vacker heir.

Fitz’s teal eyes widen, and his lips part in a confused expression. His forehead wrinkles, and altogether, he looks way too cute scared.

“What am I doing, again?”

You clench your fists. For someone so smart, he sure can be dumb. 

“Rhys. My new friend, who you scared so much that he won’t even come near me?”

Fitz goes pale. His fair skin is completely void of color. 

You cross your arms. Fitz gives you an apologetic look. 

“That guys isn’t a good guy!” Fitz exclaims, his hands flying into the air. “I just know it!”

“How would you?” Your voice is growing higher and more severe. The ache for peace in the pit of your stomach grows. “unless you violated the law of ethics.”

The split second microexpression that cuts through Fitz’s defensive scowl is all you need.

“What the fuck, Fitz!” You tear a hand down your scalp. “You could go to Exile for that! you -“

“I’m sorry.” He’s speaking in a whisper, now. His eyes bright with tears. His lips twist into a frown. “I swear it won’t happen again, but-“ he reaches a hand to you. You back away. “(y/n).”

“Don’t touch me,” your wet voice cuts through the air. “Fitz, you really messed up. I’m sorry, but i need time.”

You turn away and wipe the flood of tears and snot on your cheeks and mouth.

Now, you understand that Rhys was not a good guy.

Like most people in the lost cities, nowadays, people are after the Moonlark. Sophie is valuable, but valuable and very, very protected. Her friends, all with bodyguards or uber-monitoring parents. You have nothing, only your abilities and empty promises, especially when you hang around Fitz all the time. And so, with only one target left, they sent a new student to take you and lure out the Moonlark.

“Rhys,” you plead, softly. “Please. this won’t work. Sophie will not risk her life for me!”

The boy smiles. where did he go wrong? he’s only a year older than you. 

“But you mean so much to the Vacker family. That must mean something to the Moonlark.”

Your new friend, the kidnapper. 

you close your eyes, and a sweet taste spreads on your tongue - bitter. A sedative.

The world around you fades away.

“(y/n)! wake up! please?” The last please is what full brings you. Those perfect teal eyes searching your half-open ones.

“Fitz?” your voice feels like tar slipping through your lips. His face erupts in relief. 

“It’s okay. I’m here.”

His forehead presses to your arm when you come to again. His messed, overgrown hair brushes your side. 

“Fitz.” your voice crackles in your throat. “Rhys?”

“gone.” he doesn’t elaborate. you are somewhat grateful for it.

“I’m sorry.”

“I should’ve listened.”

The two of you stare at each other and break into face splitting grins. You feel tears of relief bloom in your eyes. Fitz takes your hand in his hands and looks at you seriously.

“Listen to me. I… have never felt worse than when i got the news. But I swear to you, that whenever you’re with me, I will never, ever let you be hurt again.”

You smile weakly, knowing that that’s a promise he won’t be able to keep.

“Fitz, you can’t promise that - “

“I can.” He squeezes your fingers. “Because when you love someone, you protect them.”

There’s a pulsing in your chest, something you’ve felt many times over the past few weeks - a flutter. The expectancy of something new.

A promise for the future.