#it's a story with many layers and i think it would be better on the second read around because once all the questions are answered

[ruvviks]

PLEASE DO NOT TAG AS YOUR OWN OC OR PAIRING.

Nathan and Ruben share a bond more powerful than most; mutual understanding through past experiences no one should ever have to go through, and through past actions so horrible they cannot be spoken of. Their grief and the blood on their hands binds them to the STEM technology they created, which has alienated them from the rest of the world— but they give each other the comfort they have both longed for so desperately for years, and that is all they need. They are each other's counterpart; you cannot imagine one without the other, like two sides of the same coin. Through their pain, their grief, their desire, and their regret, they have become one.

anna akhmatova, the guest // bones; equinox // 'i won't become' by kim jakobsson // agustín gómez-arcos, the carnivorous lamb // by oxy // achilles come down; gang of youths // czeslaw milosz, from 'new and collected poems: 1931-2001' // 'extended ambience portrait from a resonant biostructure' and 'migraine tenfold times ten' by daniel vega // a little death; the neighbourhood // marina tsvetaeva, from 'poem of the end' // by drummnist // katie maria, winter // 'nocturne in black and gold the falling rocket' by james abbott mcneill whistler // micah nemerever, these violent delights // body language; we are fury // 'the penitent' by emil melmoth // chelsea dingman, from 'of those who can't afford to be gentle'

taglist (opt in/out)

@shellibisshe, @florbelles, @ncytiri, @hibernationsuit, @stars-of-the-heart;

@lestatlioncunt, @katsigian, @radioactiveshitstorm, @estevnys, @adelaidedrubman;

@celticwoman, @rindemption, @carlosoliveiraa, @noirapocalypto, @dickytwister;

@killerspinal, @euryalex, @ri-a-rose, @velocitic, @thedeadthree

[icewindandboringhorror]

this is not the exact one I watched but I saw one of these "dish scape" things at someone's house who actually has TV (like they pay for dish/cable instead of just watching stuff online) and I think they're meant to be relaxing atmospheric stuff that you mostly ignore, but I sat there for 35 minutes watching absolutely engrossed.. further proof that I genuinely think my brain is incapable of experiencing boredom lol..

[glowingreverie]

.

[justsomuchhacking]

So like another thing about the transgender mecha discourse is like... the mech can be a metaphor for empowerment and an extension of the customizable self, but specifically for transfemmes the metaphor also works in the other direction!

The mech is safe. And it is familiar, and you have gotten used to controlling it. You are told that your highest purpose is violence, but that's not true about you, though it might be true of the mech.

The mech is safe. It is many layers of cold steel and machinery between you and the world. When people see the mech, they see power and strength. But you will have to crawl out of it if you wish to be seen and known by your name, instead of your callsign*.

The mech is safe. It does not take courage to pilot - it takes courage to leave. Anonymous, stoic violence in a shell that is not your body vs the horrifying ordeal of crawling out of a numb pile of metal and hoping people will love the weird-looking girl who is a little unused to socializing. On account of all the mech-piloting.

Anyway if I was going to write transgender mecha fiction the robot would be the closet. War is hell, truth is life, get out of the fucking robot, girl, and live!

Other small things I would include in an anti-war transgender mecha story:

"Why did you stop being a mecha pilot? You were so good at it!"

Patriarchal military industrial complex discovers trans people are just better at using the weird neural mech piloting interface. This plays out as badly as you'd expect.

"cis" pilot who has an unusually high sync with the mecha and the veteran pilots who Definitely Know.

Nothing good ever happens as a result of mecha battles and the reader should start to feel anxious about which beloved character Isn't Going To Be The Same after this one.

This would of course be very difficult to pull off in a way that's like... as fundamentally entertaining as giant robot fights where the giant robot is a metaphor for personal agency and the power of the individual, where a very traumatized trans girl incinerates mecha hitler with a blue-and-pink laser beam she got from self-actualizing. I recognize that my version is harder to make and definitely not for everyone. But I think it should be made. Both should be made!

*historical note here about callsigns - in fiction people choose their own but in the military these are chosen for you by your unit - and if yours is cool it usually means that your unit thinks you're a dweeb. If you try to make people use a callsign you chose for yourself, there is no doubt at all about whether you are a dweeb. So for me a callsign is a terrible stand-in for a true name. Knowing this fact ruins movies, because every Cool Callsign Protagonist makes you think "Iceman? Oh, he definitely got caught masturbating in the walk-in freezer".

[inkskinned]

she's three years younger than i am, and i put on cascada as a throwback, cackling - before your time! i've been borrowing my brother's car, and it's older than dirt, so the trunk is like, maybe permanently locked. when the sun comes through the window to frame her cheekbones, i feel like i'm 16 again. i shake when i'm kissing her, worried i won't get it right.

in 2003, my state made gay marriage legal. where she grew up, it wasn't legal until 11 years later - 10 years ago. if legal protections for gay marriage were a person, that person would be entering 5th grade. online, a white gay man calls the fight for legal marriage boring, which isn't kind of him but it is a common enough opinion.

it has only been 9 years since gay marriage was nationally official. it is already boring to have gay people in your tv. it is already boring to mention being gay - "why make it your entire personality?" i know siblings that have a larger age gap than the amount of time it's been legally protected. i recently saw a grown man record himself crying about how evil gay people are. he was begging us, red in the face - just do better.

i am absolutely ruined any time my girlfriend talks about being 27 (i know!! a child!), but we actually attended undergrad at the same time since i had taken off time to work between high school and college. while walking through the city, we drop our hands, try not to look too often at each other. the other day i went to an open mic in a basement. the headlining comedian said being lesbian isn't interesting, but i am a lesbian, if you care. as a joke, she had any lesbian raise their hand if present. i raised mine, weirdly embarrassed at being the single hand in a sea of other faces. she had everyone give me a round of applause. i felt something between pride and also throwing up.

sometimes one thing is also another thing. i keep thinking about my uncle. he died in the hospital without his husband of 35 years - they were not legally wed, so his husband could not enter. this sounds like it should be from 1950. it happened in 2007. harassment and abuse and financial hardship still follow any person who is trying to get married while disabled. marriage equality isn't really equal yet.

and i don't know that i can ever put a name to what i'm experiencing. sometimes it just feels... so odd to watch the balance. people are fundamentally uninterested in your identity, but also - like, there's a whole fucking bastion of rabid men and women who want to kill you. your friends roll their eyes you're gay we get it and that is funny but like. when you asked your father do you still love me? he just said go to your room. you haven't told your grandmother. disney is on their 390th "first" gay representation, but also cancelled owl house and censored the fuck out of gravity falls. you actively got bullied for being gay, but your advisor told you to find a different gimmick for your college essay - everyone says they're gay these days.

once while you were having a hard day you cried about the fact that the reason our story is so fucking boring to so many people is that it is so similar. that it is rare for one of us to just, like, have a good experience across the board. that our stories often have very parallel bends - the dehumanization, the trauma, the trouble with trusting again. these become rote instead of disgusting. how bad could it be if it is happening to so many people?

i kiss my girlfriend when nobody is looking. i like her jawline and how her hands splay when she's making a joke. there is nothing new about this story, sappho. i love her like opening up the sun. like folding peace between the layers of my life, a buttercream of euphoria, freckles and laughter and wonder.

my dad knows about her. i've been out to him since i was 18 - roughly four years before the supreme court would protect us. the other day he flipped down the sun visor while driving me to the eye doctor. "you need to accept that your body was made for a husband. you want to be a mother because you were made for men, not women." he wants me to date my old high school boyfriend. i gagged about it, and he shook his head. he said - "don't be so dramatic. you can get used to anything."

the other day a straight friend of mine snorted down her nose about it, accidentally echoing him - she said there are bigger problems in this world than planning a wedding.

[nelle-y]

pt2 to the diluc voice line story PLEASE!! I LOVED IT SOOO MUCH

A love story told through voicelines (II)

C/W: slow-burn, Diluc x gn!reader, reader works at the flower shop in Mondstadt, a few Wicked and Epic: the musical references (let’s see if you can catch them <; ), fluff, angst slight comfort

Note: I’m so glad a lot of you guys liked part 1! Part 3 is here as well<3

(You) About Diluc: New impressions

I think I’m starting to understand him better now. Beneath that stoic exterior, he’s just someone doing his best to protect the world he cares about. It’s kind of sad, though… how so many people overlook that. He deserves more credit than he gives himself. I wonder how he manages to carry all that weight on his shoulders alone.

(Diluc) About you: New impressions

I’d be lying if I said they didn’t bring a little light to my days. Ahem—they’re a dependable friend, of course. Their boldness and genuity are rare qualities, and somehow, they always seem to find the right words. It’s reassuring to have someone like that around. I wonder if I should make their favorite drink in case they come by today…

(You) About Diluc: A growing bond

He can be funny at times, but I don’t think he knows it. Like, he once told me he doesn’t like wine, so I pointed out that he owns a winery, and he just looked at me, dead serious, and said, “Is the hunter expected to eat raw meat?” Hahaha! The way he said it was so deadpan, I couldn’t stop laughing!

The more time I spend with him, the more I notice the little things—the way he always makes an effort to listen, even though he doesn’t know what to say; or how, when he opens up, his perspective is always so mature, so layered. I noticed that every time I come to the tavern now, my favorite drink is always prepared beforehand, even when Charles is behind the bar. He may not say it out loud, but I can tell he cares.

(Diluc) About you: A growing bond

Beneath their lightheartedness, there’s a quiet strength, a sincerity that’s rare to come across. I never expected to find myself looking forward to our conversations. It’s almost as if I’ve started depending on those moments. I’ve been manning the bar more frequently, secretly hoping they’d stop by—even for a short while. How did this happen?

(You) About Diluc: What is this feeling?

I don’t know what’s wrong with me! I’ve been thinking about him wayyyy too often—more than I should. It’s like my day revolves around him now. I wake up wondering if he’ll pass by the flower shop again. When I’m at work, I catch myself picking out flowers I think he’d like, just in case I see him. And don’t even get me started on lunch breaks—I’ve been stopping by the tavern more than I’d like to admit.

And the worst part? I’m starting to wonder if I’m imagining things. He’s so… reserved. It’s hard to tell if he even enjoys spending time with me or if he’s just being polite. What if I’m reading too much into it? What if this is all one-sided, and I’m just setting myself up for disappointment?

It’s frustrating—why can’t I just stop thinking about him?! He’s so serious, so closed-off, but every once in a while, I see these small moments where he softens, where he lets his guard down just a little… and I can’t help but be drawn in. Ugh, what am I doing? Falling for him? No, that’s ridiculous. We’re just… friends.

I don’t even understand why he’s so guarded in the first place. I mean, it’s not like he has anything to hide… right?

(Diluc) About you: What is this feeling?

I can’t focus on my work lately. I keep hearing their voice in the back of my mind, or catching myself wondering if they’ll stop by the tavern for lunch. When I think about them, my head starts reeling, and my pulse rushes. It’s strange. I’ve been this way for days now. Adelinde has noticed, and it’s been difficult to hide. I thought it would go away—this feeling of unease when they’re not around. But it’s not fading. The more I think about them, the more it becomes impossible to ignore.

It’s starting to affect me. I’ve always prided myself on keeping control, but now, I’m beginning to feel like I’m losing it. This attraction… it’s dangerous. What if I can’t protect them the way I want to? What if my responsibilities get in the way? Maybe I should keep a distance now. I don’t know how to reconcile what I feel with my duty as the Darknight Hero—ah, another reason to stay wary. But the thought of pushing them away… I don’t want to.

(You) About Diluc: Worries

Is it just me or does that man have too much on his plate? For the past few days, I noticed how distracted he was during our conversations. It’s like there’s always something on his mind, something that adds to the weight on his shoulders. He’s speaking a lot less now, as well, much like when we first met… always keeping his answers short. His eyes look tired, his frame is getting lighter… and if you look closer, you’ll see his rare smile is torn. I’ve tried asking if he’s okay, but he brushes it off with that calm, distant demeanor of his, then suddenly dismissing himself because ‘something came up.’ No, I don’t have time to think about how I feel, right now. Something’s up.

I guess I worry about him a lot. What if things aren’t going well at the winery? What if he doesn’t come back to wherever he’s running off to? What could he be keeping inside that makes him act like this? Hm, it could be just all in my head, but… whatever it is, I hope he knows he doesn’t have to face it alone. Even if he thinks he does.

(Diluc) About you: Worries

Why? Has something happened to them?—Ah… apologies. I’ve been on edge these past few days. It’s difficult to explain, but I can’t seem to shake this instinct to protect them. I’ve been watching the crowds more carefully, scanning for any sign of danger, and keeping an ear out for anything that might threaten their safety.

I fear they’ve noticed how distracted I’ve been during our conversations. I tried to keep my distance, to ensure they’re not caught up in anything dangerous because of me, but it’s… not easy. The more I try to step back, the more I find myself thinking about them. Have they noticed the change in my demeanor? Do they suspect the reason behind it?

I only hope they understand that my distance isn’t because of them… but because of the risks that follow me. If anything were to happen to them because of me… I don’t think I could forgive myself. Yet, even knowing this, I still feel drawn to them. It’s a dangerous contradiction.

(You) About Diluc: Distance

I’m starting to realize that Diluc might be more closed off than I thought. Every time I try to reach him, it feels like I hit a wall. Why does he keep pushing me away? Doesn’t he see that I just want to help?

Every time he dismisses me with that calm mask of his, I can’t help but feel like I’m losing him. Maybe I should give him space, maybe he needs it, but I just don’t want him to shut me out forever. I don’t know how much longer I can watch him bear the weight of his responsibilities alone.

If words won’t reach him, then maybe I’ll try something else… something to remind him he doesn’t have to do this by himself.

(Diluc) About you: Distance

There’s a part of me that wants to tell them everything—about my past, my duties, the dangers that follow me. But I can’t. Not yet. If they knew, would they still look at me the same? Would they still want to be near me? I’ve been keeping my distance for their sake, but the more I avoid them, the more I feel the ache of their absence. *sigh* I don’t deserve to rely on them this way.

(You) About Diluc: Flowers

Since asking him directly isn’t getting me anywhere, I decided to try a different approach to maybe let him open up. I heard Small Lamp Grass flowers were his favorite, so I decided to get some and leave them in the tavern for him. I even left a note, hehe. Considering what’s going on between us, though… do you think he would appreciate it?

(Diluc) About you: Flowers

“For when nights are long, and the weight feels heavy—may these remind you that you’re not alone.” That was their note, marked with a little heart at the end. I thought it was a mistake, at first—that the flowers were for someone else. But as I recognized their handwriting… something in me softened.

Honestly, it’s silly. Such a simple gesture, yet I find myself reading their note over and over again. I placed them in my office. Their glow brings a warmth in the room, and whenever I look at them, I’m reminded of their smile. Hah… Everyday, it gets harder to draw myself away from them. Maybe I can allow myself this one sliver of respite. Just this once.

—

[mrsjellymunson]

The Biology Tutor

📕 Lesson 1: Female Anatomy

Series masterlist

Continue studying: Lesson 2: Male Anatomy | Extra Credits 01: Communication Skills | Extra Credits 02: French | Independent Study 01: Art | Independent Study 02: Creative Writing

Pairing: Virgin!Eddie Munson x fem!tutor!reader

Summary: Eddie’s failing class, so you decide to offer two different styles of biology tuition, textbook-based and *ahem* practical.

W/C: something around 4k (I didn’t do a word count after editing, sorry)

CW: 🔞 18+ MDNI!, NSFW, PWP, smut with a story. Exhibitionism (f), mutual masturbation (m+f), swearing, innuendo, pet names, slight sub/dom dynamic, subtle size kink? Both Reader & Eddie are overage. No y/n. Reader’s appearance is not described, it can be whatever you like.

A/N: A cute little bit of biology lesson-based smut. I’m a sucker for virgin!Eddie and wanted to see if I could write him. Let me know how I did! 😄

My masterlist

You’ve had a crush on the guy in your Biology class since the beginning of the year when you first saw him ranting on a table in the cafeteria. There’s something about him that’s so different from the guys you’d usually go for. You run in completely different social circles, you with the academically-gifted ‘Brainy Bunch’ (an eye-rollingly terrible moniker coined by the we-think-we’re-so-clever jocks), and him with his nerdy friends. Despite this you find him unusual and intriguing, not to mention hot as all hell. You guess the ‘freak metalhead’ look doesn’t work for everyone, but his long hair and rebellious dark ink are certainly doing it for you. You really want to discover what’s underneath those layers of denim, leather and torn shirts, your imagination only able to go so far as you ponder his form late at night in your bed.

However, girls talk, and you’ve never heard of him being with any of them, or even speaking to all that many. For all his bravado and apparent confidence, you’re reasonably certain that Eddie Munson is still a virgin.

And for some reason this draws you to him even more.

You’re pretty sure you’ve caught Eddie checking out your ass as it’s perched on a high stool while he sits behind you in the biology lab. On days when you’re in this class you’ve started to wear your tightest jeans, and your shortest skirts (though if anyone asked you’d insist it was a coincidence).

Somehow you’ve become inexplicably clumsy (but only in this class, how odd…), often dropping your pencil and having to bend over to pick it up, occasionally chewing on the end in contemplation when you know he’s watching, much to the chagrin of your teacher.

“Never put anything in your mouth in the lab, you should all know better by now.”

You smirk at the innuendo in Eddie’s direction and he quickly looks away, ears exposed by his lab-regulation tied-back hair a little pink at the tips.

You also often ‘forget’ or ‘lose’ equipment, asking him if he’s got a spare, or could he please get you a replacement from the cupboards, which he’s always more than willing to do (giving you ample opportunities to observe his denim-clad ass as he does so).

“Damn, I seem to be one test tube short. Eddie, would you be a doll and get me one from the cupboard?”, crossing your legs and subtly ensuring the hem of your skirt rides up just a little more.

Eddie looks you up and down (result!) and agrees.

“Thanks, you really are my knight in shiny, um, leather?” You wince slightly at your clumsy comment, but he takes it in his stride, continuing the bit by replying,

“Here you go, your majesty”, bowing theatrically and presenting the glassware to you atop his forearm, making you grin.

In another lesson: “Shit, I tore my filter. Eddie, do you have a spare?”

“Anything for the Princess of Biology.”

He gives you a little smirk, and you feel your cheeks heat slightly. You can’t help gazing at his strong, ring-clad hands as he hands you the little circle of absorbent paper.

It becomes somewhat of a game, you playing the Princess and he the rescuing knight.

But for all your teasing you genuinely do actually want to help him pass the class. You don’t want him to have to repeat the year - you’ve seen him play at The Hideout and you know he’s meant for greater things.

It’s just biology, it can’t be any harder than what little you’ve picked up about that complicated game he plays, which seems to be all numbers, convoluted plots and organising “campaigns”, whatever they are. You’re sure he could pass if he’d just apply himself.

Or, perhaps, he just needs the right tutor…?

You’d broached it with your science teacher, offering to help ‘any students who were behind’ for extra credits. After he’d agreed you’d approached Eddie that same day, offering to come to his home and help him with his overdue assignments.

He was confused and skeptical at first, thinking this could all be some elaborate prank, but you were gentle and persuasive, and he’d agreed to pick you up later that day.

You’re sitting on his worn-out sofa, draped with a well loved but soft blanket. You’ve spent the last hour trying to get Eddie to understand cellular respiration (“Isn’t it just, like, breathing in and out?” “No, Eddie, this is cell biochemistry, it’s a bit more complicated than that”), but nothing you attempt seems to be working.

He’s despondent, won’t look at you, and seems resigned to his fate of never passing this particular subject, interjecting with statements like,

“Look, it’s just not going in.”

“I don’t know how to make it stick.”

“I don’t think I’ll get it, Princess, even if you beat it into me.”

The innuendo (accidental or not) is driving you crazy. As is Eddie’s lack of self belief.

You’d even tried explaining it by using D&D analogies.

“Think of the chemical reactions like individual characters interacting in groups. Like, if this particular troupe disband and some make allegiances with another, the group has different skills and attributes now, right?” But after a promising start even that doesn’t seem to hold his attention.

In fact, the more animated you get and closer you sit, the more distracted and fidgety he becomes, unwilling to engage fully with you and shifting uncomfortably.

You move further towards him on the sofa, determined to give it one last shot, and force him to make eye contact with you.

Their colour and depth surprises you as you look into them properly for the first time, noticing their rich, swirling chocolate and whiskey hues.

Your eyes briefly drop to his lips, the soft pink, plump, velvety pillows looking mightily enticing. God, they’re perfect.

Goosebumps rise on your arm as you feel his surprisingly soft curls tickle your shoulder.

Okay, you knew he was cute, but up close? Fucking hell…

You lean across your notes and over to the text book that’s on his other side. Your thighs are touching, and as you twist the side of your breast makes contact with his arm. If he looked slightly down and towards you he’d be able to see right down the neck of your tank top. You kind of hope he does.

Huffing, you prod at the book with your hand, hoping that the diagram on the page might make everything clearer. The movement makes your boobs jiggle a little.

You hadn’t noticed he’d stopped breathing and he suddenly lets out a huff of breath, covering it with a badly faked cough. His cheeks have flushed a light shade of pink.

So, you definitely weren’t imagining all that stuff in class.

Fuck it. You consider this might be the only opportunity you might get to do this, so decide to grab it. After all, academic tutelage was only part of your motivation to get him alone, and something you’ve been thinking about for a long time, one of the fantasies that keeps you up at night, pops into your head. One that would definitely get his attention. And if you can’t help his confidence academically, perhaps you can help with it somewhere else. Call it interpersonal tutelage…?

With as much nonchalance as you can muster, you say, “Um, maybe we should take a break. Y’know, relax a little?”

You scootch away to the end of the sofa, putting your back against the armrest and bringing your feet up onto the cushion in front of you. You grab a couple of throw cushions and slot them behind you, getting comfortable.

Eddie seems to relax a little too once you’ve moved away, but still looks uneasy.

God, are you really going to do this? What if he screams and runs away, or worse, tells his friends, or your classmates..? No, you’ve been thinking about this for far too long. Oh, fuck it x 2…

Feigning a stretch, you arch your back and place your hands at the back of your waist, pushing your chest, and breasts, upwards. Then you move them to the sides of your ribs, glancing over the sides of your boobs, seemingly-innocently pushing them together. You move a hand underneath one of your breasts, cupping it gently in the crook of your thumb and forefinger.

Eddie is still sitting tensely on the front edge of the sofa cushions, stealing sideways glances at you through the curtain of his hair.

“C’mon, Eddie, get comfy with me. It’ll help, I promise.”

Self-consciously, Eddie shifts himself and sits facing you, cross-legged, at the other end of the sofa. You give him a soft smile, which he returns with a slightly bashful one of his own, afterwards rolling his lips inwards between his teeth.

Okay, it’s now or never. Are you gonna be able to concentrate on this, Eddie?

You hum quietly, and almost closing your eyes you run a palm down your chest and over your belly. You drop one knee slightly out to the side, and run your hand down the inside of your thigh and back up it, eventually pushing your fingers between your thighs and cupping your mound with your palm.

You see Eddie’s eyes widen and hear a stifled choke.

Your hand moves to fully cup your breast, and you lightly trace your thumb over your hardening nipple whilst the hand between your legs begins to apply gentle pressure, making you inhale deeply.

Eddie watches you, agape, bringing his hands together and clasping one hand over the other in front of him, you surmise to disguise his burgeoning bulge.

You open your eyes a little, keeping them soft and half lidded, and gently smile in Eddie’s direction, ensuring he’s still watching you.

Using both hands to pop the button and lower the zipper on your jeans, you tease yourself by running the pretty elastic trim of your your panties between your fingertips, pulling it slightly away from you and letting it snap back onto your abdomen.

“Uh…”, he swallows hard, and you internally groan at the sight of his Adam’s apple bobbing in that delicious neck, “What’re you doing..?”

“What does it look like I’m doing, Eddie? I’m… relaxing…”

Sighing out the last word, you choose this moment to slip your hand down the front of your underwear, sliding over your mound and dipping just the tip of one finger between your folds, feeling the wetness that’s already pooled there. Your forehead furrows a little and you let out a quiet, contented hum.

Eddie’s eyes widen further and his eyebrows disappear completely under his bangs, and he sounds a little like he’s suffocating.

He tries to move further away from you along the sofa, unsuccessfully however as he’s wedged against the other armrest.

“Uh, I can, y’know, leave, or you could use my room, or, I can take you home, or, or-”

He’s babbling, and looking everywhere but at you. That’s not what you want at all, and you’re also concerned that he looks so uncomfortable.

“I can stop, if you want…”

He rushes out a reply, almost shouting the first syllable.

“N-NO! Um, no, it’s okay, really.”

“Okay, Eddie, stay right there. Keep your eyes on me, I wanna give you a show.”

He looks even more shocked, jaw dropping open, and you think he might bolt. But after a moment it’s clear that despite being full of anxiety, fear and self-consciousness, his curiosity, hormones and horniness are winning out, and he fixes his gaze on you.

He manages to squeak out, “Ok-aay…”

You lift your hips, using both hands to push your jeans and underwear down your legs until they reach your ankles. You slowly splay your knees, finally exposing yourself fully to Eddie’s gaze. One hand comes back to your breast, and you pinch your fabric-covered nipple between your thumb and forefinger.

He takes in the sight before him, the soft fur around your core, your wet folds glistening in the dim light of his living room, your sultry gaze, the peaks of your hardened nipples now visible through the thin fabric of your top.

He lets out a stuttering breath as his hips involuntarily shift underneath him, trying to find some friction.

“Jeezus fuck, Princess, are you tryin’a kill me?”

You try to think of something that might help relax him.

“If it helps you can imagine that we’re still studying. How about a quick lesson in female anatomy..?”

You move your hand down and with featherlight touches trace your fingertips around your pussy.

“Now, this whole area is my vulva.”

Eddie gulps.

Making a vertical line you trace your fingers over your wet lips.

“These are my labia.”

Eddie’s lips press together and he lets out a stammering hum, closing his eyes momentarily before snapping them back open so he doesn’t miss a thing.

“Are you paying attention, Eddie? This part is really important. This-,” you inhale sharply as you trail your wet fingers upwards and make contact, “This is where you’ll find my clit- fuck-”

It feels so delicious you almost don’t manage to finish your sentence, and you let out a long, low hum. Part of you doesn’t want to stop, but you’ve got more planned. Moving your fingers down again, you say,

“And this, here? This is my vagina…”

With a smile, you watch him stare as you dip a fingertip into your sopping hole, letting out a low moan as you gradually slip it inside of you.

“You know what the g-spot is, Eddie? I can show you where to find it, if you want me to…?”

You slide your finger in further, curling it towards your front wall, almost managing to tickle that certain spot within and letting out a loud groan.

At the other end of the sofa Eddie gasps an inhale, whimpering slightly, and you see him press the heel of his hand into his crotch. The combination of his sounds and actions is making you impossibly wetter - the boys you’ve been with before didn’t do much of either, and you didn’t know how much it turned you on.

You watch his face as he stares intently at your weeping centre as you slowly, so slowly move your finger in and out a few times.

“D’you think you’ll remember that, Eddie?”

“I promise I’ll fuckin’ try, Jesus Christ…”

He swallows again, exhaling heavily.

Deciding it’s time for the main event, you bring the hand that was squeezing your breast down your body, moving your fingertips to your clit and applying gentle pressure.

“I want you to see how wet you make me, Eddie. I want you to know how much I enjoy you watching my ass in biology class, how often I’ve thought about it when I’m alone. How much I like checking yours out in those oh-so tight jean- oh!”

A particularly exquisite circle followed by a firm press on your clit makes you moan out loud. The combination of both your hands has you close, closer than you imagined you’d be at this stage. It takes much longer when you’re by yourself, and you’re surprised and excited by just how much you’re enjoying having Eddie watch you.

Eddie’s fully gripping himself through his jeans now and is breathing heavily through his nose. He looks big, and you salivate at the thought.

You really want to see what he’s been hiding inside that tight denim.

“Show me, Eddie, I wanna see you.”

Hesitantly, never having experienced anything even close to this before, Eddie mumbles,

“You, uh…?”

“I wanna see you. Take out your cock. Let me see all of you, please.”

He’s rubbing himself, and you can see how strained his jeans are, a wet stain now visible in the dark fabric.

Slowly, eyes never leaving your face and looking for any tiny indication that you’re uncomfortable or have changed your mind, he slowly undoes his button and pulls down his zipper.

His languid pace is killing you, but in a good way; you realise he most likely has no idea what this is doing to you.

He rearranges the front of his jeans, opening the fly wide and leaving nothing but a thin layer of checkered cotton covering his member. The tent it’s creating is impressive.

He watches you stare and run your wet tongue over your bottom lip.

Letting out a nervous breath between pursed lips, he pushes one hand beneath the waistband of his boxers, using his thumb and two fingers to hold his cock at the base. Using his other hand he slowly, agonisingly slowly, pulls the fabric out and downwards, gradually exposing his full member to the lights of the room and to you.

You pause your own movements and spend a moment taking it in. It’s long, with an impressive girth - you briefly wonder whether he knows what he’s packing - and it’s the prettiest shade of pink you’ve ever seen. Lengthy, veined, slightly curved, and thick, so thick.

Eddie watches your expression for a moment. Satisfied that you’re not freaked or about to run away screaming, he brings the rest of his fingers to join the others, wrapping himself fully in his fist and squeezing gently, causing a little bead of precum to collect on the tip.

You take in the sight before you for a few moments, then utter, completely honestly, “Eddie, in case no one’s ever told you this, you have a really beautiful dick.”

His face and neck turn the second-prettiest shade of pink you’ve ever seen.

“No one’s ever told me that before, Princess.” Adding, almost in a whisper, “In fact, no one’s ever seen it.”

He chuckles lightly through that last sentence, embarrassed at what he’s just admitted. The ego boost of your comments has clearly given him some confidence though, as he adds with a slight smirk, a little breathy as he runs the pad of his thumb unhurriedly over his tip, “You, uh, really think so?”

Oh, so he likes me watching him too?

You can’t take your eyes off of it.

“I really do, Eddie. It’s so pretty.”

As if to confirm your statement you resume your hand movements, adding another finger and resuming circling your clit with the other. You notice that Eddie’s started moving too, his hand moving over himself in a deft gripping and twisting motion, his hips bucking up every now and again.

For a few moments neither of you say anything, the only sounds in the room your combined panting breaths and the lewd movements of wet skin.

Your clit is swollen and supremely sensitive, and, pushing in a little further, your fingers just tickle that exquisite spot within you.

You moan as you imagine it’s Eddie’s pretty cock inside you. That he’s leaning over you, thrusting into you, hitting that spot effortlessly. Maybe even talking to you, telling you how good your pussy feels, how well you’re taking him…

Suddenly your eyes roll back in your head and your mouth hangs open, a gutteral moan emerging from your chest as you get closer and closer.

Bringing your attention back to him you mumble, hurriedly,

“Jeezus Eddie, I’m gonna cum, you wanna see me cum?”

“Fuck, sweetheart, I’ve never wanted anything more in my entire fucking life.”

Eddie’s words come out in a spluttering rush and on his last word your breathing halts, your muscles lock and you cum, hard, clenching around your fingers and letting out an involuntary strangled scream.

Somewhere in the back of your fuzzy mind you think you hear Eddie let out a loud, “Holy shhhiiiit!”

You come down a little, opening your eyes and locking them with Eddie’s. You ride out your aftershocks, humming as you feel your fingers inside of you and your juices running down them. You eventually remove your fingers from your cunt, leaving its puffy wetness fully on display, and trace them around your lips and clit.

“F-fuck, Princess, that’s the hottest goddamn thing I’ve ever fuckin’ seen…”

Eddie’s red-faced and panting, his cock still very much standing to attention in his now vice-like grip, the tip an angry red and leaking copious amounts of precum. His eyes are blown dark, the chocolate rims almost completely obscured. His face and neck are flushed and he’s covered in a sheen of sweat, and he’s clenching his jaw, looking like he’s trying desperately not to bust.

“Are you ok over there, Eddie?”

“Shit, yeah, yes, I mean, fuck.”

Breathily, you ask him,

“Do you wanna cum?”

“Fuck yes, I just, I didn’t know whether you wanted me to.”

“Oh I do Eddie, I really do. It’s your turn now. You gonna cum for me? Please, let me see you lose it, show me everything you’ve got.”

He breathes out a loud sigh in what seems like relief. You like how good he’s being for you, learning yet more about yourself that you didn’t know before.

His fist speeds up as his other hand comes to hold his balls, deftly stroking and rolling the flesh. His brow furrows deeply and his lips clamp shut around a low moan. He’s staring intently at you, eyes flicking between your face and your still-dripping cunt.

Suddenly his expression turns to one resembling surprise, as his eyebrows lift and his mouth opens, a string of expletives leaving those perfect, plump lips,

“Fuck, fuck, Jeezus, motherf-, oh my-, fuckfuckfuuuck!”

His jaw drops as his abdomen contracts, and his eyes fix on your cunt as he jets hot ropes of white cum into the air and over his fist and t-shirt. There’s so much, and it seems never ending.

The sight is even better than you’d imagined it might be and your hips buck up into your hand, making you press your fingers into your clit again triggering another aftershock, and you find yourself moaning along with him.

For a few moments there’s more silence, aside from your panting and heavy breathing.

Eventually Eddie chuckles a little, and you huff a breath out through your nose with a smile on your face.

You’re both a sweaty, sticky mess, but neither of you care.

“Fuck, Eddie, that was…” You’re lost for words.

“Amazing? Incredible?” Seeing the grin plastered across Eddie’s face is easily as gratifying as all the other stuff you’ve done tonight.

You both giggle as Eddie says, “Fuck me, Princess, you’re definitely the best tutor I’ve ever had.”

Neither of you really want to move, but some cleanup is definitely necessary. Eddie takes the blanket from the sofa and throws it in the washer, cleaning up quickly in the bathroom, letting you know when it’s free and returning in a change of clothes, throwing the others in with the blanket.

As you both process what’s just transpired you share timid glances and half smiles.

You both sit on the sofa again as you start to pack up your notes and books. In another unforeseen realisation, you’re surprised at how much you’ve enjoyed Eddie’s company, and the warm feeling you get inside every time he looks at you is entirely unexpected.

You realise you’re gonna have to be the one to say something, and give Eddie a smirk.

“So, how about next time we do some practical revision on, maybe, male anatomy?”

He looks a little surprised, but certainly not unhappy at the suggestion that there might actually be a ‘next time’.

“You really wanna, uh, tutor me again?”

Nodding in the affirmative, you reply, “Oh yeah, I think we’ve both learned a lot this afternoon.”

Holding his gaze, you suggest,

“Same time next week..?”

Lesson 2: Male anatomy | Extra Credits 01: Communication Skills | Extra Credits 02: French | Independent Study 01: Art | Independent Study 02: Creative Writing

Series masterlist

Thanks so much for reading! 🙏🥰

A/N 2: This has become a miniseries, let me know if you’d like to be on the taglist, and/or my general one 😉

Likes are great, but please also consider supporting writers with comments and reblogs - they help fics get seen, and it genuinely means the world! 🌍 ❤️

My masterlist

[gamorahww]

Why Fiyeraba Are Perfect for Eachother, According to science MBTI

Through their differences, authenticity, sense of what's right, and just overall being well-meaning people, these two are a great example of how you can lift someone up, just by being your most authentic self and holding space for them to do the same.

Hello, this is a Fiyeraba analysis no one asked for. It doesn’t contain any spoilers for Wicked: Part 2.

Disclaimer Regarding MBTI: I know many people think MBTI is bullshit and even a bit limiting, when we talk about real life, and the people inhabiting it, but in the case of well-written, consistent fictional characters (which applies to both Elphaba and Fiyero) I think MBTI can be used without worrying about negative effects. That being said, enjoy the analysis of Fiyeraba through this lense!

I.) Context, If You Are Not Familiar with MBTI

When it comes to MBTI, there are two angles of looking at the types. One you are probably familiar with is the four-letter abbreviation (ENFP, INTJ, ESTJ, etc), but there is a deeper layer, where we are looking at those cognitive functions that each type uses. There are 16 variations of the four-letter types, but only 8 functions, that vary in order, and preference in each type. 

We identify four main cognitive functions in each type. Introverted types (their four-letter type stars with an I) are most comfortable using their introverted functions, and extraverted types (their four letters start with an E) are most comfortable with their extraverted functions. However as a person grows up, goes through life and evolves, they learn to harness their initially weaker functions better, and this gives them a more well-rounded personality, and a more healthier way of living in the world and be their authentic selves.

The order of the functions is also important, so whatever is in first place is their strongest function, and whatever is their last is their weakest.

You may be looking at this thinking “I didn’t ask for this”. And you are right, you didn’t, but bear with me.

So, lets sum it up: Each four-letter type has four main functions, and the extraverts are good at extravert stuff, while introverts are good at introvert stuff. Got it!

Now that we have this nailed down, lets look at these beatiful idiots then.

II.) Fiyeraba and Their MBTI Types and Cognitive Functions

Elphaba is an INTJ. INTJs are nicknamed “masterminds” by some people, because they are really good at big picture stuff. Ironically more often than not, if a story requires a villain with a large plan, they do tend to be INTJs. INTJs make for great villains in people’s eyes, with their no-nonsense way of going around in the world, and in a society full of rules and norms, they stand out, no matter what they do. Some people like to see Elphaba as an ISFP, that would mean that her introverted feeling is stronger than her intuition, but I think those people are wrong lol. Just look at the matter of seconds it took for Elphaba to realize that the Wizard is a fake once she was face to face with him, and then making a plan, and running away. Also, the trope of "you see me as a villain, so I will become your villain" is a common INTJ character trope, and applies to Elphaba super well.

Fiyero is an ESFP. ESFPs are nicknamed as “performers” or “entertainers”. They are usually popular, bold, original, and very observant. They are often considered as shallow, and superficial, which they can be, if they don't focus enough on developing their inner world, their intorverted feeling and their intuition. They are often impulsive, seeking newness, but they can easily fall into this superficiality as a routine, if they are not challenged.

Elphaba - INTJ - cognitive functions: Ni-Te-Fi-Se

(Ni) Introverted Intuition: Dominantly seeks deep patterns, long-term vision, and abstract connections for strategic planning. - Elphaba is the only one who intuitively sees Fiyero being unhappy. Later, as soon as her blinders of false hope are lifted after changing the monkeys, she almost immediately puts two and two together.

(Te) Extraverted Thinking: Structures external environments logically, focusing on efficiency and execution. - From information fragments she gathers at Emerald City, with her thinking supported by her intuition, she puts together the Wizard not having any powers, and seeing through his scheme. 

(Fi) Introverted Feeling: Prioritizes internal values and authenticity in decision-making, though less visibly. - She has a strong sense of what's right, and would never chose what is good for her over what she thinks is the morally right thing to do.

(Se) Extraverted Sensing: Engages with sensory experiences and the present moment, though it’s less naturally prominent. - Once she decides she will fly, she does. She is very graceful, knows how to use her environment to her benefit, although she is a bit slow to take action.

Fiyero - ESFP - cognitive functions: Se-Fi-Te-Ni

(Se) Extraverted Sensing: Focuses on real-time sensory details, enabling adaptability, spontaneity, and a hands-on approach to life. - He's obviously an amazing dancer, and finds joy in the sensory experiences around him. He has no problems balancing on books, jumping off places, dancing, having good old sensory fun.

(Fi) Introverted Feeling: Guides decisions through personal values and emotions, fostering empathy and authenticity. - This function is somewhat dormant in him, although you can see that he cares very deeply for the animals, and feels the need to let Elphaba know that she doesn't have to be "galinda-fied". He appreciates her authenticity and it makes him work more on his own.

(Te) Extraverted Thinking: Organizes actions logically and efficiently to achieve tangible goals. - He is not booksmart, but streetsmart, he recognizes when it is safe to do something, and considers his environment before doing so. 

(Ni) Introverted Intuition: Recognizes patterns and long-term possibilities, offering introspection and strategic insight when developed. - Him calling out Elphaba on her defense mechanism is a very good example of him tapping into his intuitive side, although he doesn't do it very often.

Elphaba and Fiyero have the exact same cognitive functions, but in a completely reverse order: Elphaba: Ni-Te-Fi-Se Fiyero: Se-Fi-Te-Ni I highlighted their strongest functions as seen above.

Now, as I mentioned earlier, whatever function is in first place is the strongest in a person, and whatever is last is the absolute weakest. And while the first and third functions are more easily accessible to everyone (due to them being extraverted functions in an extravert, and introverted functions in an introvert) the very last one, well, it’s difficult to learn to use.

For Elphaba her weakest function is (Se), that Fiyero is amazing at. (Se) can be used to assess your environment on a sensory level, to see and hear what is where, to notice details in how things look. People with well developed (Se) are great at the physical things, like doing your stunts, or dancing, jumping etc.

For Fiyero, his weakest function is (Ni), that Elphaba is just a natural at. (Ni) helps you see patterns in the world around you, and it has been described lovingly by people online as “being able to see the future” (does that ring a bell?) but also by recognizing patterns, seeing a big picture, usually noticing things that other people don’t.

So obviously those are two functions, that one of them learns from the other, right? I mean they just learn how to tap into them. Although they probably don’t as much learn from eachother, but see the other using it, and it makes their own relationship to this under utilized part of themselves change, and improve because of it. But while that is amazing, and will come very helpful to them in act 2/part 2 that is not the aspect that they connect through. What I really want to talk about is…

III.) Connecting Through Authenticity and Values - Introverted Feeling aka (Fi)

Look, you read those two words, you may think, okay, so it’s about people feeling things, like that’s normal, right? Everyone has feelings, so what’s the big deal? No, that’s not what it’s about. (Fi) is about what is _right_. It’s your values, that you hold so deep, that you can’t and won’t cut it out for anything or anyone. It what makes you you, and it is people with (Fi) that usually speak up for marginalized groups, and do the right thing, even if it comes at a personal cost. Introverted feeling is integrity, and it’s authenticity.

And as you can see, Elphaba has this in third place, and Fiyero has it in second. Fiyero should be amazing at this, but his integrity? It’s actually a bit… asleep. Why?

Looping is a phenomena that we call when an introverted person uses only their introverted, or an extraverted person uses only their extraverted functions. It’s a stress response. A defense mechanism. It’s unhealthy, and painful, because yes, your second (and fourth) functions are difficult to develop, but  they are part of who you are, you can’t just shut them out, without cutting pieces out of yourself. Kids live with their first and third functions, and then it is believed that throughout teenagehood, we start to engage our second function more. But when something bad happens to us, we sometimes turn this second function off as adults or as teenagers, reverting back to childish behavior. It’s not for fun, and it never makes us satisfied.

Fiyero is looping, and the mindset he presents in Dancing Through Life is the textbook version of an ESFP in crisis. It is literally a song about that.

“Mindless” and “brainless” are not there to reflect on his lack of intellect, but the fact that he is not integrating these important parts of himself that he should to assess what is right, and he choses not to think about the world around him. He is skipping over that (Fi) as if it was another hurdle in his way, because probably, at some point he realized that his integrity and authenticity doesn’t really matter to the world around him. His values nobody cares about, despite him having everything handed over on a silver platter. 

Escaping the Loop. When Elphaba steps into his life, and he sees her standing up for the animals, that’s the moment, she jump-starts this part inside him. He’s been literally sleepwalking through life up to that point. It is on the levels of authenticity that these two characters are allowed to truly connect, and it is this authenticity and integrity that allows them to see past everything else. (“It’s not lying! It’s looking at things another way.” IYKYK)

IV.) Growing While Lifting Eachother Up

For Elphaba, her personal journey is a strange one. She literally grew up in another bubble, but her integrity has developed. She is well in touch with her cognitive functions, but she is living in a lie, so her bubble is a lie. The fact that she could go through life for so long, not realizing that something was broken in the world, apart from how she was personally treated, goes to show you, what a good job the Wizard did with his manipulation.

Once she really first sees the problems in Oz is with the lion cub in the classroom. You can see her trying to fight for it, raise her voice, ask others to join in, to help and nobody responds, only Fiyero engages with her, asking “I’m sorry, we?” See how Fiyero immediately takes it upon himself, although he was not addressed directly by name, or in any other way. She looked in the general direction of her friends, and he was the only one who responded at all.

Elphaba, tries to solve the situation with her tried and true and tested intuition, integrity, thinking, but she lacks something. She bursts out emotionally, putting the class to sleep, safe for one Fiyero. She needs someone to show her how to take action in that situation, and Fiyero steps in. By that time, Elphaba helped Fiyero engage his values again, so he jumps in to help, and almost literally drags her with himself, moving her out of her comfort zone and out of class.

Up to this point Elphaba was told by Morrible to harness those emotions, but she also put a limitation on Elphaba with those classes. She thinks acting on those feelings is not always right, but these are not just emotions, these are beliefs and values and things that are actually important to her, so keeping them quiet is not the right path. But these two characters complement eachother, and bring out the best in the other, without pushing down anything in each other.  They make eachother stronger and more capable. In the class, Fiyero pulls her out of the limiting mindset she put on herself, and other put on her, and they actually save a life together, and after this neither of them are the same again.

Fiyero starts thinking about what’s right. About the day with the lion cub, and the person he shared it with. He spends more time "inwards" and gives less care about the physical world, and what he thought was important before.

Elphaba leaves to Emerald City with Glinda, not realizing she will be tested, in more ways than she can imagine. And when, at the end of the day she faces a situation, where she needs to take action against the biggest odds she has ever faced, and with Morrible on the loudspeakers disparaging her, she doesn't listen. She doesn't allow those limitations back onto her, she just closes her eyes and leaps.

And when she does, Fiyero jumps on his horse, as the entire world is starting to close in around Elphaba, and goes to look for her.

I guess you could say that together they are actually unlimited.

[daydreamer-in-reverie]

I think that, as a literary device, Finnick’s story is one of the most effective ones I have ever read.

When you think of victims of sex-related crimes, you so rarely think of a man.

In our modern society, we more often imagine women to be victims of such crimes. Beautiful women who are battered and bruised, their eyes holding that faraway gleam of pain and trauma. Sex-related violence against women is such a common occurrence that it is difficult to find a woman who doesn’t have intimate knowledge about it. Perhaps not every woman has been raped but every woman knows at least one who has. As young girls, we’re told so many things to try and prevent rape. Don’t go out by yourself at night. Be careful of what you wear. Don’t drink alcohol. Fight them off. And yet, if you did everything right and still fail at protecting yourself, just give in. Better raped than dead. Come home to your family and friends hurt and bruised but alive.

And it is this message that Finnick, a man, lives by.

Better taken advantage of, bruised and hurt, than dead. Better you than your parents or your siblings or Mags or Annie. Do whatever it takes to stay alive.

And, the thing is, we didn’t have to hear this story from him. We could have heard it from Cashmere.

In his propo to the Capitol, Finnick reveals that attractive Victors are pimped out by President Snow to the residents of the Capitol. One such Victor is Cashmere.

Knowing this layer of her story makes Cashmere the picture perfect victim. A woman who is repeatedly described as beautiful. She is a typical description of what a rape victim is. Suzanne could have used her character instead of Finnick’s to portray an instance so familiar to so many women and yet, she didn’t.

She chose Finnick. And I think the reason why she did that is because hearing it from Cashmere would have made the story fall flat.

Would we have blinked an eye had it been Cashmere who revealed the horrors of being a Victor? Would we have felt anything other than a vague sense of sympathy? I don’t think so. Like so many women before her, Cashmere’s story is so familiar to us that it no longer leaves that bitter taste in our mouths. We, as a society, have been so deeply desensitized to this plight that we no longer feel the same indignation we used to feel. Instead we are resigned to our fate. Cashemere isn’t the first victim of rape and she won’t be the last.

Yet to hear it from Finnick had us shocked. Finnick? A man? Attractive, to be sure, but he is at the prime of his life and yet he is a victim? Finnick, who can wield a trident so effectively he became the youngest Victor in the 75 years the Hunger Games operated, was raped? Finnick, who has literally killed people with his bare hands, was prostituted? Finnick, who cracked jokes about killing people was whored out by President Snow?

It is absurd! It is a bizarre and strange! It has to be untrue!

And yet it’s not.

Finnick being representative of that particular storyline was effective at reminding us of what it means to be victimized like that. And using Finnick, a man, instead of Cashmere, a woman, reminded us of why we have to be rightfully angry and upset about such things instead of resigned to our fates.

Suzanne Collins is an absolute literary genius.

[luminnara]

Unheavenly Creatures III | Feyd-Rautha x reader (NSFW)

Part One | Part Two |

MASTERLIST

Requests are open!

Tags: @austinswhitewolf @aeilani @maneater17 @serrendiipty @belovedbastardremus @the-dark-dreamer25 @cauliflowercounty @mamawiggers1980 @catsinacottage @targaryen-madness @juliskopf

Warnings: group sex, exhibitionism, voyeurism, mentions of cannibalism

Feyd-Rautha’s holy birthday lasted a full week. All of Giedi Prime celebrated their na-Baron, and for the nobility, that meant several long days of feasting, gladiatorial spectacles, and pro-House Harkonnen propaganda.

Within the walls of the palace, yet another banquet was being prepared, all of the extra chairs already placed at the long table in the dining hall. All of the important guests would be present for this last great feast before they began their journeys home in the coming days, and, upon Feyd-Rautha's request--demand, really--you and your fellow concubines were to be in attendance.

"Do we often receive these dinner summons?" you asked, facing yourself in a mirror as a servant ran a razor over your scalp. Though you had received two rounds of Harkonnen beauty treatments intended to halt hair growth entirely, you had woken up that morning with a soft layer of peach fuzz atop your head. After a fair amount of taunting from Feyd-Rautha, whose ego seemed to be running particularly rampant after so many days of celebration, an attendant from the Baron’s spa had come to take care of the problem, rubbing you in more Harkonnen chemicals while the others prepared themselves for the day.

“On occasion,” Yarina hissed, smoothing a beauty cream over her brow.

“I prefer feasting here, with Feyd,” Issa said, sounding annoyed. “There are always many eyes on us in the dining hall.”

“I enjoy watching the other Houses,” Yarina said. “Sometimes there is even a Bene Gesserit.”

You hummed in thought as the spa attendant finished with you, bowed, and backed out of the room as quickly and quietly as possible. She likely feared you; after all, Feyd’s concubines had been known to bite, especially when hungry. Only the day before you had watched as Yarina snapped her sharp teeth at the Baron’s mentat when he walked too close, and you had heard stories of Feyd-Rautha returning to his chambers to find that she and Issa had slaughtered a servant. Once, supposedly, they had even killed a would-be assassin they had sniffed out, though the remains were far too mutilated for anyone to determine the offender��s House or origins.

“Do you recall how I spoke of my former House allying with House Harkonnen?” You asked, turning to look at the others in their seats.

They both perked up at the question.

“They will be in attendance?” Yarina asked with a grin.

“I assume so,” you said. “Perhaps we will see them today.”

Issa twisted in her seat to better face you, the motion fluid and languid. “Perhaps Feyd will serve them to us on a platter.”

The two bared their teeth at each other in delight, and you couldn’t help but wonder if you would ever grow to become so ravenous. When they weren’t concerned with Feyd-Rautha, their cravings always turned to food, and they sometimes acted as though they were starving. You knew that couldn’t be the case; they ate at least two full meals a day, oftentimes three, with snacks sprinkled in throughout. This week, thanks to all of the feasting, they were surely not actually hungry…but they spoke of it more frequently than ever, eyeing the fresh corpses the ba-Baron left in his wake and hissing whenever he told them no.

“I think it is likely we will be asked to sit and eat quietly,” you said, testing the waters with your statement. “Don’t you? There will be so many important guests.”

“Not important to me,” Issa turned back around as she continued her beauty rituals, seeming uninterested now.

You sat and watched the two of them and wondered what they may have been like before falling into Feyd-Rautha’s service. Had they been the daughters of Harkonnen nobility, living in the palace and watching the na-Baron in the arena every other week? Perhaps they had known him in their youth, or at least Yarina had. You recalled that she had been with him the longest, though you did not know by what margin she surpassed Issa. Had they been Harkonnen celebrities? Models, perhaps? Feyd preferred to remain in the palace, and so you had never spent much time venturing forth into the capital city. Perhaps their images had been all over Giedi Prime, advertising synthetic food products. Perhaps they had both been the daughters of families with spice fortunes, or perhaps they, like you, had once been in the employ of noblewomen, and had found their way into Feyd-Rautha’s lap.

Or, you thought with a shudder, perhaps they had come from the Bene Tleilax, and they were simply some of their tamer genetically modified products. You had glimpsed the creatures kept as pets by the Baron, strange, mutated things that scurried about on too many spider-legs yet understood human speech. If Vladimir could purchase such things, then perhaps Feyd had purchased modified Harkonnen women for his own collection…though, you knew Giedi Prime itself hosted scientists and beauticians capable of making the changes Yarina and Issa sported, because they had made them to you.

You found yourself favoring the model theory, though it left room for improvement. Feyd’s darlings had a lust for human flesh that you had yet to see in any other Harkonnen. Even Feyd-Rautha didn’t partake in the same way. He ingested blood, most often yours, and you had seen him eat the prepared organ here or there, but they all acted as if you needed to consume them. You wondered if there would be lungs at this final feast.

You enjoyed lung.

As the others finished in front of the mirror, you stood, moving to the rack of clothing reserved for you. You did not know who created the dresses you wore, only that they were likely highly respected and revered. You regularly received new ensembles, and they were always simple—black, industrial, synthetic garments that matched the others’. Shortly after Feyd -Rautha took you in, you had been measured by a tailor’s assistant, a box of clothing arriving in your chambers the following morning. You often dressed yourself, but for special occasions, servants cleaned and laid your dresses out for you, and you had become rather pampered after a week of this.

Now, you stood facing a black dress, its shiny material soft and rubbery to the touch. A fair portion of the bodice was a thin, flesh-toned mesh, making it appear that the black, synthetic material of the dress only covered two thin lines stretching from your waist and up over your breasts. The skirt was long and opaque, and simple black slippers sat on the floor beneath where it hung.

You reached for it and slipped it over your head, enjoying the feeling of the stretchy fabric on your bare skin. It was smooth and without any blemishes, just the way House Harkonnen liked their things to be. Looking at your reflection now, you felt streamlined, welcoming the way the dress hugged you, the garment clinging as if it had been painted on.

Issa and Yarina had been gifted matching gowns, and when they had both finished their beauty rituals, a servant helped them dress. You should have requested—demanded—the assistance as well, you realized, but old habits died hard, and there were some things you didn’t think would ever come second nature. You were still too used to being the one summoned to help with the stately garments of your former mistress, and you continuously had to remind yourself now that you were one of the highest-ranking women on all of Giedi Prime.

“How do I look?” Yarina asked, though it was a rhetorical question.

“Divine,” Issa hissed with a grin, showing her teeth in a way that was anything but heavenly.

Yarina returned it, then looked to you. You agreed with Issa, lips stretching into a too-wide smile, before the three of you devolved into a fit of unholy giggling, the servants wincing as your shrieking laughter pierced their eardrums.

“I do so enjoy these events,” Yarina sighed, making her way towards the doorway.

“Why is that?” You asked, following.

You walked out into the main room in which Feyd’s bed sat, passing it as you trailed behind her, Issa behind you. You all three retired to the lounge area, sitting on the smooth black couches as a servant poured three glasses of a dark, viscous drink.

“The guests are fascinating,” Yarina said as she waved a hand, dismissing all of the servants. “Issa doesn’t think so. But I do.”

They quickly fled the room, shoulders hunched as they stared down at their feet. You had seen more and more of them all week, a result of the na-Baron’s birthday festivities. They were being worked round the clock, you surmised, and they were probably able to thanks to the chemical stimulants the Harkonnens so loved.

“Before I came here, i attended many dinners that my mistress hosted for the other Great Houses,” you said. “Or, I suppose, I helped her prepare for them, and was occasionally allowed to sit in. I was never so important there as I am here.”

“You’re very important,” Issa hissed, the sound coming out gentler than normal. “To us.”

“And all of Giedi Prime,” Yarina ran the back of her knuckles over your arm.

“And Feyd,” Issa added.

“What about Feyd?” A rough voice asked as the door slid open.

Your heart jumped in elation as Feyd-Rautha strode into the room. He stopped in front of the sitting area, looking over the three of you with dark eyes. He did this often; you knew he would spend hours watching you if he could, and he sometimes did, memorizing every curve, taking note of what he liked best and what he wished to change. Some of it had surprised you, and in some ways, he was far less demanding than men on other planets, including the one you had come from. In other areas, though, he was very specific, and you sometimes wondered why. He had his tastes, you supposed, and he had the means to indulge, unlike many others. You were his precious toy, a doll to be played with and modified as he pleased.

“We’ve missed you,” Issa purred, standing.

You followed suit. You would have crawled to him if you had to, but it was never a race, nor was it a struggle. You moved at the same pace as the others, and when you reached him, he pressed a kiss to your forehead, just as he did theirs, though his hand found its way to your waist as he draped himself over you in what could have been considered an embrace.

“I’ve missed you as well, m’darlings,” he murmured as he kissed you once more before letting go and moving on to Yarina.

“Do you like our dresses?” You asked.

As he leaned back, you felt his eyes rake over you. Then, he smirked, and you found yourself wishing to feel his lips upon you once more.

“Beautiful.”

And you knew he meant it, because he always did.

-0-

A servant fetched you when it was time, though Feyd seemed determined to make all four of you fashionably late, as he was too busy holding your hips down as you straddled his face to be bothered with leaving in a timely manner. Eventually, however, he had had his fill, and you were trying to ignore the slickness between your thighs as you followed him out of the suite.

The corridors were abuzz with activity, Harkonnen aristocrats and visitors alike pausing to watch as you passed. You heard whispers and saw hands shielding mouths as if that would keep their words from reaching your ears, and even if it could, you already knew what they were saying. They’d been exchanging the same shocked, starstruck expressions the entire week, their eyes glued to you as if trying to memorize every pore, every flex, every muscle. You had mostly grown used to the scrutiny of the public eye on Giedi Prime, and your skin no longer crawled when the hungry gazes of the aristocracy raked over it. your newfound celebrity fit like a glove, it seemed.

The dining hall was nearly full when you finally reached it, most of the long table’s place setting s occupied. It was rare that you ate within these walls, Feyd often preferring to take his meals in his chambers rather than with his uncle; he had never given any explicit explanation as to why, but you had always imagined he preferred the peace and time away from the Baron.

The banquet hall’s longest table, reserved for these special feasts and meetings, played host to a variety of foods, some of which you did not recognize even after all of your time living amongst House Harkonnen. You did spy, however, a platter of kidneys near another of livers, two organs you had grown increasingly familiar with as of late. They both sat before three empty chairs positioned near one end of the long, metal table, and you recognized them to be places set for yourself and your companions.

“Your na-Baron, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen,” a voice announced as you followed Feyd further into the room.

The dinner guests all stood quickly while the slaves lining the walls stared at the floor. The air was tense, as it so often was within the Baron’s walls, though Baron Harkonnen himself appeared to be rather at ease; he did not deign to rise for his nephew, choosing instead to slouch in his chair and spread his arms wide in a celebratory gesture.

“Finally, you join us, nephew,” came his voice like wet stones grinding over each other.

Though you could not see Feyd-Rautha’s expression from your position behind him, you imagined the glower you knew to be there. He had been cross with his uncle all week, ever since the incident with the not-drugged Atreides slave in the arena. You could not blame him for his disdain—Vladimir Harkonnen’s gaze still made your skin crawl whenever you felt those beady eyes upon you.

Without a word, Feyd walked to the chair nearest the door, directly across the long table from the Baron, who sat at its head. You followed in line, making for the third and furthest open seat from his with the expectation that Issa and Yarina would occupy the two closer to the na-Baron, indicating their seniority. You were surprised when they both fluidly sidestepped past you, positioning you at Feyd’s right hand while they took the two further seats, conspiracy shimmering in their huge black eyes. There was no time to question them, however; the moment Feyd-Rautha reached forward and drank from his wine cup, the spell of silence was broken and the feasting began.

The Baron spoke to his nearby mentat about something too boring for you to care to attempt to listen in on, and soon, the guests began conversing amongst themselves, the huge banquet hall filled with the low, echoing murmur of their voices. As you looked around at them, you recognized the fashions of a few Great Houses and wondered if you had once played host to these very same people on your home planet. You recognized thinly-veiled mannerisms of unnerved yet fascinated tourists, some of them trying their best to avoid insulting the greatly-feared Feyd-Rautha at his own birthday feast. Their eyes had a tendency to wander, even this early into dinner, and you watched as a few of them glanced over to him while conversing with their fellows only to quickly look away once more.

You noticed how they all seemed to be avoiding looking at you, their eyes seeming to skip past your corner of the table on their way to and from the na-Baron. In your peripheral vision, you could see that Issa and Yarina had yet to move, their silverware and metal drinking cups untouched as they, too, surveyed the room. You briefly thought of the story of how they had sniffed out the assassin, and you wondered if they were attempting to do the same now. If they were, it put a damper on your plan to speak to them; you certainly wouldn’t want to interrupt their work if there truly was someone nefarious afoot. Or at least, someone more nefarious than the average Harkonnen nobility.

As you looked down the table, you spied several intriguing figures—A veiled woman stood out, her food disappearing behind her covering. You recognized her to be Bene Gesserit, a witch whom you could never hope to understand, if she was anything like the ones you had encountered in your previous home. While you could not see her face, you imagined that she was watching the room much in the same way you were, though you were certain her thoughts were far more secretive and far more conniving than your benign observations.

Nearer to the Baron, you spied Feyd’s older brother, Glossu Rabban, the Count of Lankiveil, the rainy planet Feyd-Rautha had been born on. You had often wondered if Feyd remembered his true home…though it was incredibly difficult to imagine him residing anywhere else, when he so perfectly matched Giedi Prime’s harshness.

Glossu seemed happy to be seated near to his uncle. You could hear him laughing loudly, tearing into his food as he soaked up the attention his brother’s guests were obliged to pay him. The former governor of Arrakis still harbored a bruised ego after control of the spice-planet had been plucked out of House Harkonnen’s grasp, and you found it a bit difficult to believe that you were supposed to be afraid of him. Everyone called him Beast Rabban, and perhaps you had simply spent too much time around his younger brother to buy into the nickname.

As your eyes traveled back down the opposite side of the table, you recognized the textiles of your home planet and let your gaze linger. Had you really once worn clothing like that? So many layers of warm, knit fabric that would smother you beneath Giedi Prime’s sun? You had grown so used to the fashion of House Harkonnen and the stretchy, rubbery material you so often wore now that the thought of being weighed down by such heavy clothing made your chest feel tight. The dark blues and greens of your former home looked strange to you now, and as your eyes trailed upwards to the faces of the nobles who wore them, you found that you nearly didn’t recognize them.

There they sat, the Lord and Lady, the heads of your former House. She wore her hair long, and as you studied it, you remembered how it felt to brush every night and every morning, for she would never stoop so low as to maintain it herself. He bore a naive, jovial expression, that of a man who thought himself surrounded by nothing less than friends, a man who believed he could buy anything and anyone though his House was far from the richest or most powerful. To his credit, the people nearest to him enjoyed his company, laughing and smiling at his words. What he lacked in true power he made up for in charisma.

“Is that them?” Yarina hissed below the sound of conversation.

“Yes,” you replied, finally tearing your eyes away from your former masters to survey the food in your immediate vicinity.

“Hmph.” She scoffed.

“Unimpressed?” You asked.

“Highly.”

You heard a snort of amusement to your left and glanced in its direction. Feyd-Rautha was slumped back in his chair, cup in one hand while the other supported his chin as he leaned his elbow on the chair’s arm.

“Unimpressed, indeed.” He murmured, then leaned in and passed his goblet to you. “You may need this more than I, darlin’.”

Conversation around your end of the table lulled as the dinner guests paused to watch the na-Baron’s gesture. They had all been keeping one eye on him, you surmised, speaking with their peers whilst nervously watching for any change in his behavior. His movement drew their attention and soon their gazes were fixed upon you, intense, judgmental curiosity burning into you as you steeled yourself and accepted the wine.

“Thank you, Feyd.” You said in your best Issa imitation.

Feyd offered a smirk and reached for you, his hand lingering beneath your chin as his thumb brushed your cheek while you drank. The wine—if it could even be called as such—was thick, and you recognized it to be a mixture of blood and an as yet unknown liquid that made its appearance in Harkonnen cuisine regularly. It contained spice, you knew; you could taste it, a hot, somewhat savory tinge that sent a tingle down your spine.

“Of course.” He squeezed the back of your neck for a moment, something he often did absentmindedly, and took the goblet back.

Still aware of the guests’ gazes, you turned your attention to your food. Plucking a kidney off a platter, you chewed it slowly, eyes remaining on the table as you listened to the conversation pick back up.

“From where did you acquire your concubines, na-Baron?” Someone asked.

You glanced up at Feyd to see him watching a man across from you. He seemed to be deciding whether he wanted to play nice or demand an execution take place, his jaw set as his eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. It was his holy birthday, though, and nearly the end of the celebrations, and you watched as he chose the more peaceful, talkative route.

“My darlings find their way to me on their own.” He said.

“How so, na-Baron?”

“He purchases them!” Baron Vladimir interrupted from the other end of the table, laughing loudly in a way that was not entirely free of mocking.

All heads swiveled to face him, yours included. Yarina hissed quietly, a noise of distaste. If she were any nearer to the Baron, you’d have been afraid that he would have heard and immediately demanded she be disposed of…but there, so close to Feyd, she was safe. And so were you. 

Feyd-Rautha glared at his uncle, who continued.

“My nephew is a man who knows what he wants,” Vladimir said. “Nothing will deter him—and nothing is too good for my heir. That is why when he interrupts trade negotiations to demand a new plaything be included in the deal, I oblige.”

Feyd’s expression was purely sour, his cheeks hollowing as his jaw clenched. When he spoke, you heard the restraint in his voice. “And I am ever thankful, Uncle.”

The Baron gave a nod, clearly pleased with himself, and as conversation began anew your eyes drifted to the rulers of your former planet. They seemed unable to choose how they should feel—you spied smugness in their expressions alongside confusion and mild alarm. Were they suddenly worried now? Concerned for the well-being of the handmaiden they had sold without so much as a second thought? You watched as they shared an uncertain look with each other before they forced smiles onto their faces once more.

You heard a quiet hmph to your right and realized that Issa and Yarina had also been watching them, their nearly identical faces parallel to your own. Would your previous keepers even be able to tell you apart from them? Had it been so long and had you changed so much that they’d be unable to choose you from a lineup?

“You may pursue them later,” Feyd rasped, cutting into a piece of meat. “Eat now, darlings.”

Issa hummed, the sound more akin to a purr, and you obliged as well, plucking a rare lung off of a platter and chewing it thoughtfully. The conversation around you blended into dull, white noise, and as always, your focus was more on Feyd-Rautha than anywhere else.

He conversed with his guests and you occasionally felt his leg or foot brush against yours beneath the table, a reminder that he was there. You ate in silence, sometimes sharing a glance with Issa and Yarina when something stood out in the sea of voices. You could tell they were more interested in the Bene Gesserit than anyone else in attendance, their black eyes fixated on the woman they could not even see behind the veil. Why they cared so much, you did not know…so you left them to it and tried to enjoy your first large banquet on Giedi Prime.

After a final course of black, bloody desserts, dinner concluded. Feyd-Rautha left the room first and you followed closely behind, hot on his heels as he strode out into the corridor. The Baron was next to leave, surrounded by his guard, and you hovered behind Feyd as his uncle said a final happy birthday before floating away in the direction of his private spa.

Feyd-Rautha glared after him, fists clenched at his sides. “I should kill him.”

The bold statement alarmed you, but the others remained calm.

“He will not taste good,” Issa hissed, leaning her chin on his shoulder as her hands spread over his chest from behind. “So much meat, gone to waste…”

Feyd still stared at his uncle’s shadow as it retreated around a corner. “He does not deserve to be eaten.”

“Why do you wish to kill him, Feyd?” You asked, stepping out to face him and gazing at him with big, black eyes.

The na-Baron’s head snapped around to look at you, and there he saw you for what you were; his newest, freshest, most naive concubine, whose home planet was half a galaxy away and who had nothing but him and his other darlings now. Though you had settled in well and called Giedi Prime your home now, he was reminded that you were not truly Harkonnen, and you might never be.

“Do you wish to speak with your former owners?” He asked, changing the subject.

You frowned at the attempted diversion, but took the bait nonetheless and considered his question. Did you wish to see them? In the time you had spent away, you had changed considerably, not only physically but mentally as well. Harkonnen customs were less and less strange by the day, and your memories of your old home felt odd and dreamlike now. What would you gain from revisiting the people from that life? Did you desire closure? Or were you beginning to lean towards speaking with them because a part of you was still angry about their abandonment of you, and you wanted them to see what had become of the handmaiden they left behind on Giedi Prime?

“I do, Feyd.”

“…then we will call on them tonight.” He decided, taking your hand and pressing a kiss that was smooth as a sharpened blade to the back of it.

“How exciting,” Issa hissed as the four of you made your way to the na-Baron’s royal chambers.

“We have never had such an opportunity,” Yarina said, eyes alight with mischief.

“Did you see their faces at the feast?” Issa laughed, taking your hand and twisting your fingers together with hers. “They did not know how to feel, knowing what happened to you.”

“I will not accept their pity,” you growled. “I do not need it, when my life is so much better now.”

“Pity?” Yarina asked, taking your other hand in hers. “Why should they pity you?”

You mulled your next words over, unsure of what to say. Not wanting to offend them nor Feyd-Rautha, you spoke carefully. “Because of how they must see me, through their eyes.”

The harpies seemed genuinely confused, looking at each other with tilted heads.

“They must see me as a slave,” you continued.

“Are there no concubines on their planet?” Issa asked. “Do they not know what it means to be one?”

“No, they…they are married and I do not remember any concubines there,” you said, now thoroughly confused by their confusion.

“…oh, pet,” Feyd-Rautha twisted his head back to look at you, pausing in his journey back to his rooms. “…you truly do not understand, do you?”

“What? What do I not understand?” You asked, looking between him and the others.

“Call yourself what you will,” he said, raising a hand to cup the side of your neck in a possessive way, “concubine. Pet. Darling. But you are mine, whatever you are. You bear no crown, but any heir you give me would be legitimate. You belong to a Great House with wealth and power far beyond that of your old masters’, and now, in the eyes of House Harkonnen and the Imperium, you are far more important than them.”

“I…am?” You asked.

“Of course,” Yarina laid a hand on your shoulder.

“It is nost pity they will feel towards you,” Issa said. “It is fear.”

-0-

Feyd-Rautha gave the Lord and Lady of your home planet precisely ten Giedi Prime minutes to prepare themselves before the four of you arrived at their guest room. You could imagine them scrambling, forever obsessed with their image and always wanting to impress the greater Houses. At this time of night, the Lady would have already been changing into her robes for sleeping, and once upon a time, you would have been the one dressing her for this seemingly impromptu visit. Tonight, you were assisted by your own servant, who dressed you in another smooth black dress that clung to you like a second skin.

As your arrival was announced by one of the guards at the door, it slid open to reveal plain living chambers. You recalled the rooms in the guest wing from your brief time staying in your own, when what had been intended as a brief visit to Giedi Prime became a permanent move. The walls were bare, the furniture sparse, and the suite’s inhabitants looked sorely out of place amongst the brushed steel and industrial trimmings.

They appeared flustered, dressed in heavy, opulent evening wear. It would be strange to host anyone so late in the day, and downright shocking to receive the na-Baron himself, someone who could—and should—have demanded they come to him and not the other way round. Yet there stood Feyd-Rautha with his entourage, hands folded neatly behind his back, knives sheathed at his sides. You stood behind his right shoulder, facing the people you once served, looking at them through different eyes. They seemed so strange to you now, so foreign; you could barely remember how it felt to braid hair like theirs, or handle the textiles they wore. You had grown used to the Harkonnen customs that surrounded you, and the ways of your own birth house had become entirely alien.

“Na-Baron, this is quite a surprise!” The Lord said nervously as he rose from his seat.

“The feast was positively divine,” the Lady added, standing as well.

“To what do we owe such an honor?”

Feyd-Rautha simply watched them for a long moment, looking on as they quickly grew uncomfortable beneath his scrutinizing gaze.

“We are not here to speak about the feast.” He finally said.

“O-oh?” The Lord stammered. “Please, how may we be of assistance, na-Baron?”

“You recall the pet I obtained from you.” Feyd said bluntly.

“The handmaiden?” The Lady asked, glancing away from him to look at his companions. “Yes, of course.”

“It was an honor to supply a servant to the esteemed na-Baron of House Harkonnen,” the Lord added. “Would you like more? We have several with us—“

“No.” Feyd-Rautha interrupted with a glare. “I have no need for more.”

You felt your heart swell with a smug pride.

“I came to show what’s been done with your former slave,” he said.

“Oh, no, na-Baron, we of our House do not keep slaves—“

“Shh,” the Lady hissed sharply, silencing her husband as Feyd-Rautha stepped aside to reveal his darlings in full.

You stood between the others, watching from your place in line as the Lord and Lady looked at each other uneasily. When their eyes turned to you, there almost seemed to be a spark of recognition there…but when they saw Issa and Yarina, it faded, and you realized they had no clue which one was you.

“Surely she is not here with us,” the Lord said, glancing to the na-Baron.

“Harkonnen beauty treatments,” Feyd said, grinning and revealing his black teeth. “And my own strict regimen.”

“And how have you been…enjoying her?” The Lady asked.

“Ask her yourself.”

Her eyes passed over you twice. “Is that you, my dear?”

Issa hissed.

The Lady looked even more uncomfortable, and it was then that you chose to take pity on her and stepped forward.

“I must admit, I am a bit disappointed,” you said, facing her evenly. “We used to spend so much time together, after all.”

“There you are!” She exclaimed, placing a hand over her chest in melodramatic relief. “Tell me, how do you fare? It has been so difficult finding a new handmaiden of your caliber. Good help can be so tricky, you understand.”

She looked to the na-Baron as if he could relate. He offered nothing but a slight grimace in return.

“When I was informed that I was to stay on Giedi Prime, I thought the world was ending.” You admitted. “Everything I had ever known was suddenly so far away, completely out of my grasp…and I was left in the care of Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, a man whose reputation precedes him throughout the galaxy.”

“It was just business, you understand,” the Lord said.

“Business?” You asked, looking to him with your black, unblinking eyes.

“Well…yes,” he shifted uncomfortably.

“Darling, we would never have given you up for anything less than your worth,” the Lady said.

You wanted to recoil, but you held firm, your voice even when you spoke. “Only the na-Baron may call me that.”

“I beg your pardon?” She scoffed.

Issa and Yarina hissed quietly.

“Feyd-Rautha is the only one permitted to call me that.” You repeated.

“Call you what?”

“Darlin’…are you certain you do not want them dead?” Feyd interjected, one of his knives suddenly unsheathed.

The Lord and Lady both suddenly paled.

“Th-there’s no need for that!” The Lord stammered quickly. “My wife meant no harm, na-Baron—“

“Do not apologize to me.” Feyd-Rautha growled. “Apologize to her.”

The Lady looked as if she would rather drink the black sludge in the Harkonnen spa. “Na-Baron, she is a handmaiden—“

“I am a concubine,” you said sternly, mustering as much confidence as you could in that moment. “And you are a guest in my home.” You stepped forward to face her more evenly, staring at her. In the past, she had always seemed larger than life, and though you knew much more of her personal life than most on her planet, she has always been glamorous and untouchable. Now, you saw that she was simply a woman—much in the same way that your lovely Feyd was simply a man.

“Remind them to fear you,” you heard Yarina hiss quietly from behind you.

“I’m hungry…” Issa whined.

“Patience,” Feyd-Rautha muttered.

“I am the reason we are here now,” you said to the Lady. “It was my choice to come to this room and face you.”

“Why, then?” She asked, holding her chin high as she looked down her nose at you.

“So that you might see what became of the servant girl you left behind.”

“Am i to feel ashamed, then?” She asked. “We did what we felt was right.”

“You sold me.”

“Tell me, then, are you not happy here?”

“I am.” You admitted. “And I do not doubt you have lost no sleep over me. I suppose I chose to come here to see you again…to look you in the eye as an equal and ask myself why I ever thought you were my superior.”

Her face twisted then as she tried to hold herself back. Had you spoken to her in such a way while in her service, you no doubt would have received a lashing—but now, with Feyd-Rautha and two ravenous harpies mere steps away, she didn’t dare touch you.

“You were the final thing connecting me to my old life,” you said. “A part of me wanted to find out if I would miss it. If seeing you again would provoke some sort of longing inside me. But…I am very pleased to find that I feel nothing of the kind.”

“Then what is next, Lady Harkonnen?” She asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“I will have your tongue served on a platter if you do not learn to hold it.” 

She blinked in shock.

“I once thought you to be some great and noble creature,” you wrinkled your nose. “But you are only a person. How silly i once was, to have ever feared you, when you should be the one who fears me.”

You turned your back on her then, returning to Feyd-Rautha. He stood with the others, testing his blade’s sharpness with his own fingertips out of boredom.

“Finished?” He asked.

“We are done here,” you replied.

“Do you feel better?”

“I do.”

He brushed his thumb over your cheek, smearing dark blood over your skin. “Let us leave.”

You felt your former mistress watching you as you fell in behind him and exited the room, and you could imagine her anger and confusion. You had no doubt given her too much to dwell on for the night, but your own heart felt a bit lighter now, and any doubts you may have had that Giedi Prime was truly your home had been thoroughly snuffed out.

“I wanted to taste them,” Issa hissed.

“Exotic food is so difficult to come by…” Yarina sighed, taking your arm in hers.

“Harder to kill leaders of the Great Houses,” Feyd glanced over his shoulder. “There are more questions asked.”

“Killing them would not have solved anything,” you said.

“It would have solved my hunger.” Issa said.

“We will find you fresh lungs,” Feyd grinned. “A snack, before bed.”

You saw her return the grin, her sharp, black teeth glistening in the low light of the corridor. When she looked to you excitedly, you found her joy to be infectious, and smiled back at her.

-0-

“Feyd?”

“Yes, darlin’?”

“Will you join me in the bath?”

He looked to where the others were sleeping in his bed, a tangle of limbs, both covered in bite marks the same as you. “You do not wish to sleep?”

“Not yet,” you said, standing before him.

He offered you as sympathetic a look as he was capable of and stood, placing a hand on the back of your neck as he steered you to his personal spa room.

The door slid open to reveal the steamy bath, always prepared and heated so that it may be used at any hour. There were no Harkonnen slaves lingering near the walls, leaving the two of you alone together for the first time that day. While Issa and Yarina slept peacefully, you slipped into the oily black pool, aided by Feyd, who joined you not long after.

He sat against the wall and pulled you into his lap, sighing and closing his eyes as he relaxed. “Something troubles you.”

You turned, resting your cheek on his chest as you gazed up at him. “I have been…curious about something you said this evening.”

He cracked an eye open to look at you. “Tell me.”

“Do you desire an heir?”

“I must secure my legacy,” he answered simply.

“Then why have you not yet?”

Both eyes were open now as you looked at you. “What do you mean, pet?”

“If you want an heir, why do you not have one?” You asked.

“They cannot conceive.”

His words were plain, and yet they struck you.

“Issa and Yarina?”

He nodded once. “Many of those on Giedi Prime are not fertile. They are no exception.”

“Oh…”

“Do not pity them. They have little interest in the entire ordeal.”

“Then how does House Harkonnen reproduce, if fertility is such a problem?”

“Treatments,” he shrugged slightly. “Many infants are too weak to live. We do not have large families. Only the strongest can survive on this planet.”

“Like you?”

“Yes.” He said smugly. “And my heirs.”

“So you do want them.”

“Will you give them to me?”

You pushed back against his chest to stare at him. “Me?”

“Yes.” He said as if it were obvious. “Who else?”

“A wife, perhaps?”

“I do not want one.”

“What if you must marry for politics?”

“Then she will be a lonely wife. You three are all I want.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead and pulled you back against his chest. “You will give me an heir. In time.

“Yes, Feyd,” you sighed, pleased with your new distinction amongst your companions. “I will.”

“You know I care for you.”

“Yes.”

“I would kill for you.”

“I have seen you do it.”

“Not only for fresh food,” he said. “For any reason. I would have killed your former owners. I wanted to.”

“I thought you said it was more complicated?” You teased.

“It is. But I would have done it.”

You smiled as you melted against him. “I know you would have, Feyd. And one day, perhaps I will kill for you.”

He smirked. “I have no doubt you will, darling. Now…relax with me.”

He leaned his head back once more and sighed, and you closed your eyes, content within the warmth of the oil and blood.

[letmeinimafairy]

The making of painted stones

Well, a few times I was asked to show the process of miniature paintings on stones, and here is my first attempt to capture and explain it. Warning - I only have my phone's camera at my disposal, so the quality is not very good.

Firstly - an idea for the image. Every stone has something in its pattern that can be a starting point for developing an imagery. The stone I picked for this one is a beautiful Picasso jasper, and in this case I was looking for a stone for a specific idea I've already had in mind. Spontaneous improvisation dictated by the stone's pattern is also great but I decided to pick something more definitive for better illustrating the process.

This jasper's pattern already has outlines that can be developed into a landscape without painting it over too much. I don't like it when stones are just mindlessly covered by slapping a random image on it, ignoring the colours, textures and patterns.

Here's the idea - ruins of an amphitheatre overgrown with red gladioluses. I know, I know, but I'm very interested in the initial mystical sacrificial background of gladiators. So here it is, arena covered in red, swords in the sand, but it's finally quiet.

Before we start, a stone must be varnished - minerals are porous, and lacquer smoothes its surface. I paint with tempera - most artists who work in lacquer miniatures use oils, but tempera allows quicker process, which is important for me. I'm autistic and my executive dysfunction makes working with oils difficult - my sudden bursts of activity won't match with drying timings and such. So, tempera for me.

Starting with sketching the outlines of the ruins and painting our light source, the sun and red clouds. I'm trying to work with a palette that the stone already has and make the painting as harmonious as possible.

Erasing auxiliary lines as we continue.

Done with the first layer - the walls and the sky. After the paint dries, I apply varnish (I use Novol clearcoat, car varnish - it's very durable). There can be as many layers as you need.

Now - the flowers and details.

After the painting is finished, it'll need several layers of varnish. And some fine sandpaper (1500) in-between the finishing layers for better grip.

And here it is! time to think abou a necklace for this one.

I'm not sure how useful I can be and what aspects you would like to know, so feel free to ask. I'm not sure I can make a good enough video with my current phone, so this'll have to wait. I tried to skip all the musings about ideas and finding stories, but whatever. And the time needed for work - I don't know. There was a month-long pause in the making of this one, due to a couple of emergencies that knocked me down for some time, and it's not easy for me in general due to my mental state - sometimes I can make a painting in two days, sometimes it takes years, nothing is certain with me, especially now. But well, here's what I do.

[itsabouttimex2]

I hope this isn't an odd question

But, do you think Wukong or Macaque would act or treat different their "cub" if they genders were swapped or being a female version? This is also for a Yan behavior

I don't know too much about how is the raising of a monkey from the father and mother so I was curious with this since they're both mystical demons

I was thinking about this when I saw some fanarts from the artist @/car_nimbus on Twitter, they made a neat versions of the characters with another gender

Monkey Mama

(Hmm okay let me build a hypothetical OG “Female Monkey King” to work off of here and then I’ll try to translate that into LMK’s SWK. Also, I’ll probably make a second variation of this afterwards with other characters, haha. This got a little long to do both SWK and Mac!)

Sun Wukong as a character is already heavily defined by rebellion and personal choice, so I think that making him a girl only really compounds that layer of his character.

In many older narratives, female characters are often expected to be more obedient or modest than men, and very frequently only exist as prizes or, more rarely, villains. A female Sun Wukong; assuming she plays the same role as her original incarnation, defies the expectations of how “traditional” women should behave, shirking the demure and passive “ideal” and adding another layer of rebellion to her character.

(JTTW is actually pretty great in terms of female representation, with characters ranging from the perpetually good Quanyin, the eventually repentant Princess Iron Fan, and the straight up evil White Bone Spirit. I’m a big fan of how the women aren’t slid into any one “role” throughout the story.)

I think: in story, she’d likely be viewed as a sort of “anomaly”—a woman too strong, too outspoken, and too unwilling to conform to typical feminine ideals. Her defiance and arrogance might be viewed as even more scandalous by the Celestial Realm.

Instead of being made a “stable-keeper”, I think probably she’s sent to whatever Heavenly Scullery exists in that divine realm, and put to work very quickly. She would treat this “job” with indifference or even amusement at first-after all, physical labor or menial tasks don't diminish her self-worth or confidence! She’s had a life of hard work, leading an army of Yaoguai, cultivating Flower Fruit Mountain,

So she’s fine with this… at first. Then it turns out that the food she makes with her fellow low-class workers isn’t distributed amongst the people making it, but plated up nice and pretty for a bunch of “stuffy old gods” who didn’t lift a finger! Bullshit!

So obviously, the prideful Monkey Queen goes on a destructive rampage in regards to the unfair disparity of treatment, then storms back down to Earth to throw a “feel-better” party with her fellow Yaogaui.

(Which isn’t just a party, but a symbolic reclaiming of joy and community, with her monkey tribe representing the freedom she craves and the earthly bonds she prefers over heavenly authority. It's not just an escape, but a statement of independence.)

After an extensive set of repairs, the Court sends down someone to drag her back, because, you know, the local super-powered monkey is back on the loose, and that’s not exactly great for them. This time, they offer her a “better” role- she gets to become an official Peach Maiden, lucky her!

Of course, it’s just another form of entrapment, but within a prettier cage. Even though she's given a cushier position, it's a veneer- she's still being silenced, controlled, and stripped of her freedom. The role played by a Peach Maiden is an inversion of Wukong's essence, as these women are happily serving the role of passive caretakers, nurturing with gentle smiles—a direct contrast to the free-willed, brash nature of the Monkey Queen.

(And while there’s nothing wrong with being demure, passive, and feminine, having people try to force her into that role is where Sun Wukong draws her line.)

Here, she is expected to watch in silence as others revel in the freedom and power denied to her. It's a different kind of prison, one that quietly erodes her spirit. When the Celestial Court tries to reintegrate her as a Peach Maiden, they are once again attempting to place her into a docile, decorative role, one that strips away her power and independence. Those immortal peach orchards, a symbol of immortality and divine favor, becomes a prison for her.

Surrounded by "ideal" women who embody the quiet, submissive role she despises, the Monkey Queen finds herself chafing under the pressure of conformity. Her energy, once boundless and chaotic, is now caged, and the simmering resentment builds.

The buildup to her inevitable rebellion after being made a Peach Maiden, then, becomes a very sympathetic moment because it's not just a rejection of the role forced on her, but a rejection of the very system that tries to diminish who she is at her core. Her rebellion isn’t about anger and shame- it’s about reclaiming her true self after having been suffocated by the expectations of the Celestial Court. Her rampage becomes an assertion of her identity as something that can't be confined by heavenly rules or social mores.

The Court, in its attempt to “contain" her, only fuels her defiance further, leading her once again to rebel.

It was never going to end well. But it ends all the same, and punishment is to be levied to the Queen, just the same as any other rebellious rule-breaker... actually, probably harsher.

There’s “you broke our rules and tried to lead a coup”, then there’s “you did all that, and we also find your very person to be wrong on a fundamental level”, and then she gets the book thrown at her twice over.

But! Then she meets Tang Sanzang, who sees something in her that neither the Celestial Realm nor her own band of Sworn Brothers saw. Not a heretic simian savaging a holy realm. Not a Queen to rally behind for their own gain.

But a lost soul in need of guidance.

And from there the Great Monk works on building Sun Wukong up as a person instead of leading her astray or trying to cut massive chunks of her personality out? And talks to her about the things she cares about? And teaches her about all the things she missed after spending five hundred years under a rock?

And then she meets Zhu Baije, who starts out a little too happy and carefree about having a beautiful woman around, but eventually comes to smash open heads when Wukong is disrespected, because that’s not just a hot woman, that’s his sister?

Or Sha Wujing, who helps her with even the smallest things, from trimming her claws to cutting her wild hair to preparing meals for the monk? And lets her perch on his shoulders and head so the queen can get some skinship in?

Then Ao Lie, who is every bit the “disappointment to the world at large” that she was considered? And they take turns braiding each other’s hair and wiping the mess from the other’s face, and sleeping in the same tent and same bedroom because it’s less effort?

She gets a dad and three little brothers?

She gets a family.

And then loses it and is alone again for several hundred years more.

So if we go with this theoretical “My natural existence has been rejected for being seen as ‘improper’ by a court of stuffy traditional assholes” and then “I dearly love/miss my dead found family” angle, I think she’d be portrayed as a very different sort of character in LMK.

She’s quicker to lash out and defend herself, and much less willing to sit around and let the world pass her by- because that’s what was demanded of her by the Celestial Realm.

Be good. Be quiet. Be demure. Be obedient. Be anything except you.

I don’t think she’d be as willing to “rest on her laurels” as her canon counterpart, given that a “quiet boring life” was what she had fought so very hard to escape in the first place, so instead of isolating herself from the world in the first place, she probably sets up a little “souvenir shop” at the foot of Flower Fruit Mountain, taking a human form to sell little knick-knacks that herald to the journey she undertook with her old friends.

In part, this is how Wukong works to honor them. To spread their legacy. To ensure that they aren’t forgotten, left as a footnote in the annals of history. To remember them.

In part, it’s how she justifies all the mistakes she’s made and the suffering she’s been through. Settling in to a pointlessly relaxed life is exactly what she fought against, after all. She’s heavily fallen into the “sunk-cost fallacy”, where giving up and settling in, to her, means “losing”. It means “everything I went through was all for nothing”. So she keeps at this little store instead of just retiring and isolating herself from the world, even though she’d be happier to ditch it and lounge about.

So when MK and his eccentric bunch of friends comes around with their boundless energy and mischief, she immediately goes, “Oh, okay! This is what I wanted!”

(It’s not. All she’s ever wanted is her friends back. How could there be anything else?)

The Monkie Kids are vibrant, eccentric, and full of qualities that immediately resonate with Wukong. They remind her of the energy, camaraderie, and sense of adventure that she once shared with her old companions. She sees MK's arrival not just as a chance to teach someone a few of her old tricks, but as an echo of her own life—a life she hasn't been able to truly let go of.

So she starts projecting- on the surface, MK is very much like her. He's spirited, good-natured, and curious- and reckless. Just like she was. Wukong latches onto this quickly, sort of using the kid as a proxy for herself. After all, if she can't go back to her old life, why not embrace a new one that feels close enough? In some ways, this marks her refusal to accept the passage of time, a desperate clinging to the hope that, through MK, she can rekindle the connections she once cherished.

However, underneath that initial enthusiasm is the repressed understanding that MK, despite his similarities to her younger self, cannot truly replace what she lost. The friends she fought beside, the battles they waged together, and the lessons they learned are unique, irreplaceable moments in her life. No matter how much MK’s gang reminds her of the past, he and his friends a stand-in for the companions she still longs for. But her deep desire to reconnect with her old friends clouds her ability to see MK for who he truly is: his own person, on his own journey.

It takes her a while to get to that point, though. So she’s more doting and affectionate, in a way that somewhat stifles her student’s training because she wants to be both her old carefree self and also a good mentor, and the two just get jumbled.

Sidenote: I think with the difference in actions and behavior, MK would be more open to viewing Fem!Wukong as a parental figure than the OG, especially since he doesn’t really have someone to fulfill that “mom” role.

For their dynamic, I think something like this would be the outcome:

———————————————————————-

The afternoon sun hangs low in the sky, painting the landscape in hues of varied orange and blue. With a tired hand, MK wipes the sweat from his brow.

He’s perched on one of the rocky spires dotting Flower Fruit Mountain, gazing at the view with a small smile of accomplishment. Training had been intense lately… if only because he had been doubling down on the time he spent practicing, without giving as much care to rest or aftercare.

After all, even though his powers were blooming steadily… his enemies also were growing in power and quantity, leading to the ever-creeping edge of fear that anything less than a constant one-hundred percent just wouldn’t be “enough”.

And right as he reaches back to grab the golden staff he has inherited from the Monkey Queen-

“MK! I told you to take a break, not run off to do more training!”

Her voice, uncharacteristically sharp, cuts through the formerly tranquil air, causing MK to jump. He turns just in time to see Sun Wukong strolling toward him, her hands on her hips and a look of mock annoyance on her face.

MK grinned sheepishly, shifting his grass-stained boots against the dirt. “I was just, you know… checking out the view.”

She raised an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth twitching in amusement as her eyes narrowed in annoyance. This kid... “Uh-huh. Checking out the view or sneaking in some practice when I wasn’t looking?”

Caught fast in his lie, MK rubbed the back of his neck, face scrunching up in embarrassment. “Maybe a little of both?”

In spite of herself, Sun Wukong quietly laughs, the sound echoing like a chiming bell through the mountain. Her long, golden hair flowed behind her in the wind, each strand catching the light like molten fire. Despite her legendary status- the rebellious warrior who’d fought the heavens and nearly won!- there was a warmth to her that MK had come to cherish.

“All work and no play, MK,” she said, sitting beside him on the rock and ruffling his hair with a fondness that always made him feel like a little kid again. “You’ll burn out before you get anywhere.”

He looked at her, eyes shining with admiration. “But you never stop training. You’ve been at this for centuries! I just…”

A pause, as his chest turns over, unsettled by the notion of opening up. But… it’s the Monkey Queen. So it.. should be okay, right?

“I want to make you proud.”

Sun Wukong’s expression softens, and she wraps an arm around his shoulders, pulling the boy close in a tight embrace. “You already make me proud, kid. You don’t have to prove anything.”

MK leaned into the touch, feeling a wave of comfort wash over him. Even from the start she’d been like this with him- protective, nurturing… and maybe a bit overbearing at times. But he didn’t mind. It made him feel safe, like no matter what challenges lay ahead, he wasn’t alone.

MK chuckled, turning his face up to meet his idol’s eyes.” I’ll keep up,” he triumphantly declares, pumping a fist.” I promise.”

“Good.” Wukong shifted, her clawed hand lightly missing his spiked locks. “Now, how about we head back to the shop and grab something to eat? You’ve earned it.”

MK’s stomach growled at the mention of food, and he nodded so eagerly that she wondered if his head wouldn’t ache from the motion. “You know, I won’t say no to a good meal.”

The Monkey Queen stood up, dusting off her mentee’s clothes before offering him a hand. “Of course you won’t. C’mon, my treat.”

———————————————————————-

Now, to answer your question about how she acts in regards to her own cub… in general I think she’s much more doting than the OG, willing to express herself through constant displays of physical affection, in ways that are far more varied.

Constant forehead smooching, cuddles, grooming sessions, all of it! Mama Wukong never wants to let go of her baby! Sit down and let her paint your nails! Let her comb and braid your hair! Let her make you a nice lunch (loaded with mystical drugs to keep you nice and sleepy for extra cuddles), or at least a filling snack! Let her pepper your face with kisses as she spins you in her powerful arms!

Lots and lots of indulgent fluffy days of binging unhealthy foods and watching cozy reruns of old shows, your head in her lap as she hums and does up your hair with her lazy hands.

Lots of reminiscing about old suitors as she considers the quietest and quickest ways to kill anyone who makes the futile attempt to pursue you in the same way.

Despite her obsessive behavior, Wukong struggles with conflicting feelings about wanting her child to be strong and independent, just like her! She pushes you to train hard and become powerful, but when you inevitably seek their own freedom or autonomy, she’d experience a mix of pride and heartbreak, pushing her deeper into possessive tendencies.

If you ever tried to leave or even just start to break away, Wukong’s worst traits would bubble up like hellfire. Just as she fought against an entire realm’s authority, she would absolutely wage a war to keep her child close, all while justifying her actions as love.

The Monkey Queen is also more willing to take routes outside of brute force if it means securing extra protection for Y/N. If Macaque or maybe Azure (or someone else like Erlang Shen) wants to try and play “suitor”, well, she’s not too interested… until the thought arises that having him around makes you extra safe! And then she’s willing to think on it.

(That’s assuming that you aren’t one of their biological kids to begin with, in which case there might be a sort of “yandere triangle”. Azure/Macaque/Erlang Shen doing his damndest to reclaim his wife, before he learns that she’s had a child while he was gone... or maybe Pigsy and Tang decided that MK needs his mentor in a more ‘accessible’ position, and plot to drag her to Megapolis…)

Lots of potential monkey mama shenanigans, basically!

[galactic-rhea]

I think that despite aaaaaaall the very obvious problems about the whole Tuskens plot in AOTC (that also come from IRL bias); something people seem to be hung at is about Padmé's romance being unbelieveable after Anakin confesses the massacre to her; and like I can understand why, since not everyone thinks too hard about her character, but I do, and it's just kind of annoying to have most people saying it was character assasination for and that she shouldn't have known about the fact. BUT! I think it shows quite a lot of deepness and the dynamic about their relationship.

Is a very, very morally gray moment of Padmé, I would say is one of the most charged moments for her, her response is "To be angry is to be human"; Padmé had been, since she was presented, going through ungodly amounts of stress, her people was dying and being taken to camps when she was 14, at the start of AOTC one of her handmaids died in front of her eyes, and through none of these moments she has been able to express much more than some veiled, some composed, some acceptable, anger, I don't believe this to be coincidencce.

Padmé pretty much represents the justice and the good ideals of the Republic, she's pretty much a source of light in the story; this isn't to say she can't do wrong, or that she isn't flawed. She's giving Anakin a chance to do better, even though isn't within her right to decide so, but she's also kind of the only character that does seem to understand Anakin the best, almost beat for beat and she knows he's coming from a very very bad place, with a terrible childhood, she knows how he was when he was nine, she knows of her past.

She isn't oblivious or naive about how terrible Anakin's actiones were, she's just aware of his reasons, she's just able to sympathize with him, she's able to see he feels inmense guilt, and she also is sure he can still be able to do better (and he did! As an audience we know he was capable of much better and of being a force of good very needed. His fall doesn't undo the fact Anakin did went through great lengths to help others) Her reaction, honestly, just puts her in league with Luke imo. "Hey, that's terrible, awful, beyond , but you know, I still love you, because you're still a person I care about. You can do better."

But it also shows how her love is, in many ways, similar to Anakin's, in the sense that's very encompasing, very loyal, very "Follow you to hell and back", she's able to offer him the sympathy and the belief of his ultimate good nature that she wouldn't offer to others (she fell in love with him before going to Tatooine). It can be see as hypocritical, but she's also kind of right, she's proven right. She's still shocked and heartbroken in ROTS because the situation was much more different, because there wasn't any reason for her to believe he would commit something like that again after he clearly expresses so much guilt and trauma over it.

And, when it comens to the relationship with Anakin, I think it makes some senses; it means there is honestity between them, he confessed to her one of the most evil deeds he had commited yet, there's something about it that makes all of Anakin's others relationships different: Obi-Wan and Ahsoka didn't know about this In Anakin's POV, is probable that any kind of love or appreciation Obi-Wan and Ahsoka showed him came with a layer of guilt and distrust because he thinks they don't really know him, probably thinks they would hate him or think he deserves punishment.

And yeah, like, morally talking, he should've gone to jail or at least have a trial or something, but like, what exactly would that manage, or fix in your little fantasy-sci-fi movies? But you know who knew and still loved him? Padmé and Palpatine. In one had, you have Padmé who truly, does love him and believes in his ultimate capacity for goodness. On the other...

So yeah, I think knowing of what he's capable is actually a very integral part of the anidala relationship, and it does give Padmé some deepness you wouldn't usually see in other female characters, and the narrative does tell you she was kind of right.

Because, if I'm honest with you, Padmé and Anakin marrying with Anakin keeping the secret of murdering a whole village, wouldn't do it for me, would actually make me not like or not care for the relationship at all, at least not in their 'romance' sense, because it would be just kind of a Blue Beard, kind of your average "Woman finds out Her Wonderful husband/boyfriend is secretly a Serial Murdered and keeps it hidden for her". That, and also that Anakin is actually very honest, maybe a bit too honest for his own good, when it comes to Padmé and Palpatine, he spills at the edges all the time.

It's meaningful, for them both, that they met each other when they were under extremelly bad circumstances, she knew him as a literal child slave that risked his life to save strangers, and he knew her first as a servant, a handmaid, and then as a queen. And then she knows of his crimes, and he knows he can be fully honest with her, and now he knows how she felt about being a queen, about being a politician, things she never says to anyone else. They're kinda in equal footing and that's why it's meaningfull, as inmoral and messy and kinda selfish it can be.

But yeah, yeah, I ramble a lot, sorry this is very very messy and idk kind of badly written i just wrote as it came to me,I was sleepy and saw yet another youtuber trying to explain why padmé's character was assasinated or something. Because when it comes to her is a flaw and her being irrational, but when it comes to Luke is all encompassing goodness and proof of undying love, siiigh.

[leonstoenailunderhisbed]

You’ve bewitched me

Summary: A war lasting three years became heavy on the front lines. Many people died and lost their homes from the actions of one kingdom. But to end the war, both kingdoms agreed to seal an alliance through an arranged marriage. Caught in a loveless marriage with the crown prince, a whirlwind of emotions blasts through foreign land as you try to make your life in the enemy kingdom bearable.

Warnings: slow-burn. Leon is a piece of dick in the beginning. angst. eventual smut. arranged marriage. reader is a princess and Leon is the crown prince. enemies to lovers (i think?). inaccurate historical information. READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION

Word Count: 11,222

A/N: sorry for not posting in a while, life’s been a bit tough but I’m back better than ever. I want to make this a mini serious (like probably three chapters) but I’ll see how this goes.

[pt.2][pt.3]

“I just can’t say goodnight” — Cosmic, Red Velvet

The Three-Year War was the start of a new era. An era in which two rival kingdoms finally join together in an allegiance. But the memory of how the war began was one that all too many remembered deeply.

It started with a small fight between the two kings over a land of territory that was unowned to either kingdom. Your father, the king of the Kingdom of the Coast, had found a mine in which gold was discovered. Immense amounts of gold hidden beneath the layers of rock called for his attention, which also called the attention of another king.

The Kingdom of the West noticed some strange activity in between the borders of both kingdoms, and the king sent a small army to figure out what was going on. Much to his surprise, the soldiers found citizens of the kingdom of the coast roaming close to the border that separated the two kingdoms and were immediately drawn to the defensive. The two kingdoms hated each other, although not a surprising fact. Both sides argued about who gets to own the mine, debates and meetings sparked between both kings, both claiming the mine was their right.

You didn’t know the full story, as princess of your kingdom, your duty didn’t lie with politics and war. Your duties were much different. When the king left the castle to join in on the war, you sat by the window hopelessly waiting for his return, and he did return, he came back with news of marriage.

And so here you are, on a carriage ride to the Kingdom of the West, foreign lands filled the view of the carriage window but that wasn’t what you focused on. Your thoughts circled back to when your father came back and broke the news of your sudden engagement.

“You are to not argue with the king!” your father said as he slammed his fists against his desk in frustration, “You will get married to the Crown Prince of the West Kingdom whether you like it or not. It is not your duty to argue, it is your duty to obey.”

Even though you knew you had no say in the marriage, you still sought freedom in choosing who to be wedded to. Mother has told you stories about how she had the chance to choose her husband among many suitors, and for years you believed you’d go through the same thing. Only for your hopes to be crushed in the midst of a war.

Upon arriving at the castle of the West Kingdom, you felt a bit unnerved. You were an enemy on foreign land, you had the disadvantage, one that you believed would make you suffer.

“Your Royal Highness, we’ve arrived,” said the servant driving the carriage. As you stepped out of the carriage, you saw a line of servants and maids lined up on the sides of the entrance, along with the royal family.

“Ah, you’re here,” said the king of the West Kingdom as he bowed at you, “Welcome, I hope the journey was not too tiring.”

You knew he only spoke out of respect but there was an underlying emotion that made you believe he didn’t mean it, “Your Majesty,” you said as you curtsied the king, right before you turned your attention to the young man next to him, his son.

His son stood tall, eyes boring into yours with judgment and even resentment. But he didn’t say anything, only bowing along with his father. His icy blue eyes held hatred, one that he had no shame in hiding. His blonde hair was neatly slicked back as his attire screamed rich and royal.

“This is my son, Crown Prince Leon,” the king said before he snapped his fingers and a maid came up to help you with your bags, “Come right in, my servants will show you to your chambers and then we’ll attend dinner.”

The king turned around to leave, wasting no second in going back inside the palace, all while his son glared at you before he followed right behind his father. For a welcome, it definitely went better than you had thought.

Your chambers were exquisite and quite extravagant, very different from home. Curtains hung from the ceiling over the bed, the very big bed. The windows were big enough to see just outside the gardens and training grounds. The room itself was like any other royal room, excessive decorations adorned the walls but it wasn’t something you weren’t used to.

“Your Royal Highness, we are your ladies-in-waiting, it is our honor to make your acquaintance,” a woman said as she bowed her head at you, followed by two other women behind her. You simply nodded and returned the bow, “Pleasured to make your acquaintance,” you replied softly.

“Let us help you prepare for dinner, the king does not like waiting,” she said right before the three of them started to work diligently on helping you into new clothes.

-

Dinner with the king and his son was a bit awkward. The table was silent, a contrast to how your family ate during dinner. Maybe it was because it was just Leon and the king, but even then it was too quiet.

“So, princess,” the king started as he sipped from his wine cup, “how are you liking the palace?”

“It’s beautiful, Your Majesty,” you replied.

The king chuckled, almost as if he knew his castle was beautiful, “Yes, yes, quite the vision for a foreigner,” he said.

“An enemy,” Leon suddenly spoke up for the first time today, “She’s not a foreigner, she’s the enemy,” his tone was bitter and cold. His hands gripping his silverware tight enough to turn his knuckles white. The king stiffened slightly before he downed his wine and set the cup back down, all while staring into the abyss.

“Son,” the king said in a quiet mutter but loud enough for you to hear, “the war is over. She’s going to be your wife, show some respect.”

But Leon didn’t like that. He slammed his silverware down against the table, servants turning their heads to look at Leon as he glared at you, “She’s anything but my wife. She’s a murderer and an enemy. I will not show my respect,” he said right before he stood up and stormed out of the dining hall. The king sighed after the doors slammed closed and you could only stare down at your plate.

“I apologize for my son–he,” the king said as he tried to come up with an excuse for his son’s behavior, only to not be able to say anything else for the remainder of dinner. It was clear that feelings of hatred still lingered from the war even though the war allegedly ended.

“Have a goodnight, princess,” he muttered before he stood up and also left the dining hall, leaving you alone with your half eaten plate.

This was your life from now on. A loveless marriage in a castle where you’re hated by everyone.

-

Months passed after your first day in the palace and not one had it been an easy one for you. Leon avoided you altogether and wouldn’t dare be in the same room as you, he wanted you to know his hatred for you and your kingdom. It became pointless trying to talk to him when you saw him in the halls as he’d turn around and walk in the direction he came from. Or if he was feeling bold, he’d walk right past you without acknowledging you. He loathed you.

Leon’s schedule was busy, as the heir of the throne and son of the current king, he had to manage some of the duties that came with that role. However, he wasn’t always busy, he only locked himself in his study and stuffed himself in tomorrow’s work to avoid you. His hatred ran deep and rooted in a dark place at the bottom of his heart. But he did have an outlet; sword training.

Many days and many nights he’d spend his time outside in the training grounds to let out all his pent up anger. And this only made you feel more alone.

When it was the day of the wedding, both families met together in a church. It was supposed to be a good day for you, weddings were supposed to be a blessing, but this one seemed like a curse. Both kings were delighted as this meant that they were now allies. It was a bit weird seeing your father and Leon’s father get along like childhood friends but there was nothing you could do. Both kingdoms were now united and the war has officially been declared to be over.

Leon, however, didn’t kiss you on the altar. He only gave you a nod, but hey, it was something different from the usual glares.

So now, here you were, in your shared chambers sitting on your vanity stool as you brushed your hair. It was nighttime and Leon had yet to come to bed. He’s always done this. Even though you were now husband and wife, he did everything he could to establish a barrier with you. He’d sleep on the couch near the fireplace as you slept alone on the bed, he’d purposefully wake up earlier as to not greet you in the morning, and he’d come back late at night to not see you awake.

He was a cruel and cold man who wanted nothing with you. You were just about to make your way to the bed when the door suddenly opened. Leon didn’t even spare a glance at you as he made his way to the couch, sitting down and ruffling his hair as he sighed heavily. You stared at him from the reflection of your vanity mirror, watching as he closed his eyes and leaned back against the backrest of the couch. He looked exhausted and if you were in any other circumstances, you’d ask what was wrong. But unfortunately, you knew it would be useless.

The man hated you and there was nothing you could do to change his mind.

“I heard you were making plans to change the garden,” he suddenly said, his eyes still closed as he spoke to you in his distant tone. You turned around on your stool to face him, “Yes, I wanted to replace a few flowers,” you replied softly.

Leon let out a dry scoff before he opened his eyes and looked at you, “And you didn’t consult me about it?” he asked coldly. He stood up to his full height and walked over to you, standing at a distance as he also loathed the idea of touching you.

“You think you can go behind my back and change the place however you want?” he asked lowly as he glared down at you, “I am the Crown Prince, I don’t care if the gardens lie under your duties, you consult me first. Do you understand?”

“Yes but–”

“Do not defy me,” he muttered as he took a step closer to you, “You think you can waltz in here and change everything without ever checking with me?” he then scoffed humorlessly and smirked in a mocking manner, “That’s what your people ever seem to do. You take and you take until you’re full, and forget about everyone else, don’t you?”

“Well, let me tell you something, princess,” he said your title out of spite, “You’re nothing but my wife here. You may be the future queen but you still have to obey me first. Whatever I say goes, and if I want the damn garden to stay that way then it will stay that way,” he muttered with an edge of threat in his tone.

He continued to glare at you, eyes boring into yours with so much resentment. And all you could was nod at him, “Yes, Your Highness,” you replied weakly in a whisper. Leon stared at you for a few seconds longer before he scoffed and walked back to the couch, not wanting to be bothered by you anymore.

-

The next day was busy for you, as future queen of the kingdom, there were a few things you needed to learn about the West Kingdom.

“Again,” the teacher said in a neutral tone as you sat in the library with books stacked on the table, “It’s not too hard to understand.”

You sighed frustratingly, you’ve been reading the same chapter for thirty minutes and you couldn't understand, “Easy for you to say, you’ve been living here your whole life. I’ve been here for three months and I still don’t understand how this kingdom works.”

“Princess, if I may be so bold,” he said as he looked at you, “you’re a smart lady, you understood everything thus far, what’s preventing you from understanding this minor detail?”

You knew what the teacher was insinuating, he thinks you’re distracted. And you know how he feels about distractions, with another sigh you spoke in a much quieter tone, “I just… I just have a lot on my mind, that’s all.

“Do you now?” he asked quietly as he seemed to be observing and analyzing your behavior.

“Yes, I do,” you replied a bit more firmly, even though you didn’t mean to come off as defensive, you couldn’t help but feel that way. It was as if Leon had conditioned you to stay that way during your stay.

Everyone in the palace, the servants and the maids, were well aware of Leon’s mistreatment towards you. He wasn’t one to shy away from letting everyone of his hatred for you. Some pitied you but they wouldn’t dare go against Leon as he was the crown prince.

“It’s the crown prince, isn’t he?” The teacher said bluntly and almost unimpressed. You, however, felt a bit surprised. Were you that obvious?

“How do you know?” You muttered softly as you narrowed your eyes at him.

“Who doesn’t know? All you two ever do is argue, well it’s mostly him, but you get my point.

Shame is what you felt upon his answer. Was that how everyone saw the relationship between you and Leon? You were supposed to be husband and wife, a beacon of peace between two kingdoms and yet, you were more apart than the Atlantic sea.

“I just—I don’t know,” you muttered, “it’s like everything I do angers him. I tried to be kind to him and show respect but all he does is shut me down and pretend I don’t even exist.”

“He hasn’t even said a single kind word to me,” you continued as the teacher remained silent, “I know he didn’t ask for this, but I also didn’t. I just wish he could understand *me*.”

There was a silence that overtook between you and the teacher, as if he was contemplating what to say, “The crown prince has been through a lot,” he said after a few moments of silence, “all he needs is time and he’ll come around, eventually.”

“Eventually,” you repeated under your breath. It may have only been three months but you’d hoped that he would at least be a bit kinder to you. Much to your dismay, you knew that wouldn’t happen anytime soon.

After your studies, you roamed around the castle, trying to familiarize yourself with the structure. It was a bid castle, bigger than your own castle back home. Oh how you missed home.

You missed your bed, your friends, your family, the food they’d serve—you missed everything. Here, you were alone with a husband who hates you.

As you were about to make turn around the corner of the hall, someone’s hand suddenly covered your mouth as you felt them move you to pin you against the wall. It was a knight.

Your eyes widened but the knight held you firmly in place with one hand on your mouth and the other on your waist. Your heart was beating fast and your chest heaved up and down. Your maids walked on without you.

“Shh, princess,” the knight murmured in a sultry tone, “we don’t want to cause a scene, now do we?” You quickly shook your head ‘no’ terrified that he would do something to you.

The knight smirked and held you firmly in place against the wall, loving how scared of him you looked.

“Such a pretty thing…” His hand on your waist started to wander, his fingers brushing over your corset.

“I’ve wanted you for a while now….”

He moved closer to speak into your ear, his hand on your mouth moving to your hair to hold a fistful of it, while the other hand continued to wander.

“Let me go,” you whispered and closed your eyes tightly shut as you felt him hold your hair in a fist, ruining your hairstyle while his other hand roamed your corset.

Your hands gripped the wall, you were beyond terrified. How dare he lay his hands on a married woman—a married princess.

The knight didn’t listen to your pleas, continuing to keep you pinned against the wall, his hands now grabbing your hips.

“Shhh,” he murmured, his lips now against your neck, “I want you all to myself.”

The knight started to undo some of the laces at the back of your corset. Your eyes widened slightly as you your hands quickly traveled to hold your corset up against your breasts to ensure that it wouldn’t fall.

“What are you doing—stop,” you ordered the knight.

The knight continued to undo the laces, the smirk on his face only growing as you tried to hold your corset up.

“Shh, don’t be like that, princess,” He murmured, his lips still against your neck as his hand moved to your wrists, “Let me do this…”

He started to loosen your corset, his hand then moving to squeeze your hip. He was too busy to notice Leon and the king, who were walking down the other side of the hall.

The laces of your corset were fully undone, the strings hanging down your back as you held the material up your chest, “My husband is the heir to the throne, he’ll have you decapitated if he sees you,” you threatened.

But you didn’t know if Leon would even do that for you. Leon hated you, he despised you to the point where he ignored your existence on a daily basis.

The knight simply smirked against your neck, his hands starting to wander and exploring your body.

“I doubt the crown prince would care,” he replied huskily, his hand cupping your breast through the fabric, “He doesn’t love you.”

As the king and Leon continued down the hall, Leon suddenly froze, a look of anger immediately appearing on his face. His anger grew as he saw you in the knight’s embrace. His father had no reaction, but Leon was pissed.

He walked down the hall quickly to you and the knight, staring at you with a hard glare. Leon’s jaw clenched as his eyes flicked to all the loose laces of your corset.

“What is the meaning of this?!” The king angrily exclaimed as he and Leon walked over to the knight.

You looked over at the King and Leon from behind the knight and felt even more worse. You felt embarrassed and ashamed of being seen like this. So you directed your attention to the floor as you tried not to cry.

The knight froze when he heard the king and Leon’s footsteps and voices, his hands freezing and the smirk on his face falling.

He quickly removed his hands from you, stepping away and quickly bowing in the king’s presence.

“Your majesty,” he said in a hurry, sweat forming on his forehead.

Leon stood behind his father, his eyes locked on you, taking in your appearance. His mind was a mixture of anger and disgust, seeing you with your laces undone and your corset askew.

When the knight took his hands off of you and took a step back, you fell down to the floor and held your corset up as to not expose yourself further.

You still avoided all their gazes, it wasn’t your fault. You didn’t want any of this to happen to you.

“What were you thinking?!” The king started to reprimand the knight, “How dare you disrespect the lady of the house like that?!”

Leon’s eyes were locked on your face. He was angry. No. Enraged. Furious. Watching the knight touch you, the man’s hands on your body, groping you, made his blood boil.

He hated you. He hated you so much. But no one could touch you like that. You’re his wife. His property.

The king continued to yell at the knight, while Leon walked over to you and knelt down in front of you.

“Once we go back home, I’ll make sure you to punish you,” the king said the knight in a harsh tone, “Let’s go.”

He then looked down at you and Leon before he started to walk away with his knight trailing behind him. The moment it was just Leon and you in the hall, you could practically feel the anger rolling off of him. He clenched his fists at his sides, his jaw clenched and teeth gritted.

He couldn’t believe it. The sight of the knight’s hands on you, his lips on your neck, his hands cupping your breast… it made him see red.

He hated you. He despised you. But you were his. His wife. No one else was supposed to touch you like that.

Your maids were frantically looking for you and then they found you on the floor with Leon kneeling in front of you.

“My Lady,” one of them said as they ran over to both of you. They slowly helped you up, covering you body as they held you corset up, “Oh my,” another said under her breath.

My maids looked at Leon and bowed at him, “Excuse us, Your Highness,” one said before they started to drag you to your shared chambers. Leon stood up and watched as your maids hurried over to you, their eyes widening at your appearance.

For a moment, he considered whether or not to have the knight killed for what he did. He hated you. But you were his, and he wanted to make sure you knew that. He wouldn’t ever let another man touch you like that. But he also wouldn’t ever let anyone disrespect him like that.

The maids took you to your shared quarters where they helped you out of your dress and into your nightdress, getting you ready for sleep since it was already quite dark outside. Once you were dressed for the night, your maids left your quarters.

It was late at night. Leon went to his study to finish up some paperwork, before finally heading to yours and his shared quarters.

He was still enraged over what happened. The thought of the knight touching you, his hands on your body… it had Leon seeing red.

But why? Why did it anger him so much? It was because you were his wife and no one else was allowed to touch you. Not because he loved you, or even cared for you. Because you were his property.

When he was done with his paperwork, Leon entered the quarters, and immediately spotted you at the vanity desk. He still couldn’t get the sight of your appearance from what happened. Seeing you with your laces undone and your corset askew, the knight’s hands all over your body… it angered him for some unknown reason.

He slammed the door behind him, the sound echoing in the room as he stalked over to you. Your eyes widened and you visibly flinched when he suddenly slammed the door behind him.

“What happened,” he asked coldly, his voice low and harsh as he continued to approach you.

“What?” You muttered under your breath in mild shock.

But then you realized what he wanted, he wanted you to explain the whole thing. You swallowed dryly as you looked up at him, “I was walking with my maids until someone pulled me back and…” you muttered. Even talking about it made you uncomfortable.

Leon’s anger towards you made me uncomfortable, especially because you didn’t understand why he was so angry. His kingdom won the war yet he still saw you as his enemy, “But I tried to fight him off and I told him to stop. I even said you’d decapitate him but he didn’t listen.”

Leon’s anger only grew as he heard you recall what happened, that knight’s hands all over you while you tried to fight him off. The thought of it only made him even more enraged. How dare he touch you like that, and in the halls like that.

“Stupid woman,” he said scathingly, his deep voice full of disdain for you, “Of course he didn’t listen, he clearly didn’t care about what I’d do to him.”

You furrowed my brows and parted your lips as he called you that, Stupid woman.

It repeated in your mind several times, which caused your eyes to water. Did he think you enjoyed being harassed like that? You looked down at the floor, what else would you expect from Leon if it wasn’t going to be harsh words.

Leon’s eyes darkened at the sight of your watery eyes. He didn’t care if he offended or hurt you, as he saw you as nothing more than an obstacle.

“Clearly he thought you were some whore,” he continued, his words harsh and cold, “What else would he think? It’s not the first time something like this has happened, after all.”

He looked at you, a scornful look in his eyes. He hated you, but the thought of another man’s hands on you, it ignited a fire within him.

You looked back up at him in shock, did he just call you a whore? You were a princess, born and raised to be graceful and elegant and he reduces you to a whore? You felt disrespected.

“It is the first time a man has laid their hands on me,” you quickly argued back as you stood up, a tear rolling down your cheek, you’ve had enough of him, “You won’t even touch me. We haven’t even tried for an heir like your father wanted!”

Leon clenched his jaw, his eyes narrowing as you spoke. You had a point, a very valid point. But he wouldn’t admit that.

“Don’t expect me to actually want to touch you,” he sneered, his voice dripping with disgust, “You’re just the price I had to pay to stop the war. I’ll have heirs, but they won’t be yours. I’ll never allow my children to share your blood.”

He took a step closer to you, his eyes cold and hard. A scoff escaped your lips, “You’re calling me a whore when you just admitted you’d have heirs with other women?” You said in disbelief.

“You are a selfish bastard, your heart is brittle and rotten,” you whispered harshly to him as another tear rolled down.

Leon’s eyes darkened at your words. Selfish bastard. He knew that’s what you thought of him, but hearing you actually admit it angered him. But not as much as the thought of having heirs with you.

“You’re the one who’s delusional,” he spat, “You’re not worthy enough to have my heirs or the title of queen. That’s the only reason I’ll be lying with other women.”

He took another step closer, his jaw clenching. He loathed you. Hated you.

Him admitting that hurt you beyond belief. It was like something in you and you gave up. Hearing him not just say that he’ll lay with other women but that you were useless as well hurt.

You looked at him with pain in your eyes, your jaw clenched as you tried to hold back your tears, “Fine,” you whispered in a resigned tone.

“Go ahead. Sleep around with other women,” you muttered, “Just don’t complain when your name gets brought up in a brothel for being their number one customer.”

You gave up. He hated you beyond repair and nothing you could do could change that. So you simply just decided to stop. The mere thought of him being with other women hurt more than you thought it would. All my life you’ve been taught and raised to be the fitting queen by his side. What purpose did you have now?

Leon was caught off guard by your resigned tone and the look in your eyes. He wasn’t expecting you to give up like this. He expected more of a fight from you.

“I will,” he said firmly, his eyes still cold and hard, “In fact, I’ll start tonight.”

His words stung. He wanted heirs, but not from his “arranged” wife, you. He could only imagine the children you could raise together, but he could never allow himself to even think about it.

Your heart broke even more. Tonight? Your mouth gaped open but you quickly closed it and remained silent as your eyes watered. You couldn’t do anything.

“Alright,” you whispered, “Go on. I won’t stop you,” you turned around and went over to your bed.

You sat down on the edge, taking off your shoes. Then you blew out your candle and laid down on the bed, bringing the covers up to your chin and closed your eyes. You did not want to cry but why does it feel like you are?

Leon could simply only watch you. He expected you to get angry and lash out at him, but instead, you simply accepted it.

The sight of you on the bed, pulling the covers up to your chin with tears in your eyes, stirred something in him. But he forced it down. He hated you. He’d always hate you.

“I won’t be coming back here tonight,” he said coldly, his voice harsh and emotionless, as he turned and headed for the door.

Leon could hear your soft whimpers as he headed towards the door, but he ignored them. He didn’t care if you were crying or not. He didn’t care how hurt you were because of him. All he cared about was himself.

Even though he felt something stir in him when he saw you on the bed, crying and upset, he forced it down. He continued to ignore it as he opened the door and left. He wouldn’t come back tonight. He was going to find a woman he actually liked. One that wasn’t you.

Leon walked away from the quarters. He headed out of the palace and out into the town.

Tonight, he was going to visit the taverns to find a woman to spend the night with. The thought of you was still in the back of his mind, but he pushed it down, determined to have a distraction from the thoughts of you crying in bed alone.

He could have a woman or two in a tavern, and that would distract him. Perhaps when he returned, you’d be asleep and he wouldn’t have to think about you at all.

The nearest tavern was full of women lingering around in skimpy gowns, obviously known as the hookers that attracted attention to the business.

But amidst all the women, could he really just forget about you? The hurt in you eyes, your bottom lip slightly trembling whenever you’d cry, or the way your eyes would look like a wounded puppy? Could he really find a distraction from that gnawing feeling at his chest with a woman who’d forget him next thing in the morning?

He was the crown prince, everyone wanted a piece of him, but no one dared. The women looked at him, but didn’t approach him. In their eyes, he too high up in the ranks. Leon could feel the eyes of the women in the tavern on him as he entered.

But he couldn’t have you, even though you were his wife. That was the problem. He could be with any woman, but he would never allow himself to allow you to get close to him because he hated you.

But as he continued to look around, Leon began to falter. He began to grow frustrated. Because every woman he looked at, he found himself comparing to you.

The women were no match for you, and as much as he hated to admit it, he knew it was true. You were beautiful and gracious, and the women in the tavern could never compare.

He grew frustrated by this realization. He was the crown prince. He could have any woman he wanted, yet no one here seemed worthy of him. He let out a frustrated sigh, his eyes still scanning the crowd of drunken soldiers and whores. None of them compared to you, and he hated knowing that.

Leon had spent hours in the tavern, but he found no one who could compare to you. It was infuriating. No matter who he looked at, you were the one he kept thinking about.

As the night continued to drag on, Leon began to think it was time to return to the castle. It was getting late, and the longer he was away, the more he would think about you. With a grumble, he left the tavern and headed back towards the castle.

Leon entered the castle, still feeling frustrated and annoyed. He had wasted hours at the tavern, only to come back to the castle empty-handed.

The halls were quiet as he made his way down, heading to the quarters he shared with you. He knew you were asleep this late, and the thought of you being fast asleep in bed annoyed him, but not as much as the thought of seeing you crying.

When he pushed open the door to your shared quarters, his eyes landed on you. You were asleep, your hair fanned out over the pillow, looking beautiful even in your sleep. He mentally cursed himself for thinking you were attractive.

Leon shut the door behind him, watching you sleep for a few moments. He couldn't deny how beautiful you looked, even in your sleep. Your hair was spread out on the pillow, and the way the moonlight hit your face, it was beautiful.

But Leon quickly squashed that thought. He hated you, he despised you. He could never find anything about you beautiful or attractive, no matter what.

He walked over to the bed, looking down at you as you slept soundly, unbothered by his arrival. Leon couldn't help but watch you as you shifted in your sleep, rolling onto your back. You looked beautiful, even with tear stains on your cheeks, presumably from crying after he left for the tavern.

He should've been thinking about the women he met at the tavern. He should've been comparing them to you, wanting to hurt you by going on about how much more beautiful they were. But Leon found himself unable to do that. He couldn't compare you to the tavern whores. In his eyes, none of them came close to your beauty.

He hated you, but not even he could deny that you were the most beautiful woman he's ever seen. Leon let out a quiet sigh, looking to the couch by the fireplace. He would be on the couch, and nothing more. He would never sleep in the bed with you.

When morning rolled up, your maids came into the room to help get ready for the day. All while you didn’t spare Leon a glance. His words deeply hurt you and you had given up on him.

He was free to do what he wanted, not like you had a say in the first place, his servants came into the room to help get dressed for the day as well.

“Your Highness,” one of your maids said as she started to do your hair as you sat on your vanity stool, “The gardener is here to help you renovate the garden.”

“Ah,” you replied to her, “I forgot to cancel the renovation plans. I’ll meet him downstairs,” The maid nodded and continued with your hair. When she was done helping you, you made your way out of the room and towards the lobby of the castle.

Once you reached downstairs with your maids behind you, you spoke French to the gardener since he was French, “Bonjour, je suis désolé mais j’ai peur de devoir annuler les plans pour le jardin.”

Leon’s servants, once he was dressed, started to follow him downstairs as he also had business to do. Or maybe training. Who knew what his schedule was.

The French gardener looked at you in surprise as you spoke to him in perfect French. He didn't expect you to speak the language, but it was a pleasant surprise nevertheless. Your maids were also quite surprised to hear you were fluent in another language, you must’ve learned foreign languages back home.

"Ah, Bonjour," he replied with a smile, "Ce n’est pas grave, Votre Altesse, je pourrais toujours vous donner mes conseils pour l’avenir si vous le souhaitez.”

Leon's servants followed him as he made his way downstairs, his ears perked and listening to the conversation between you and the gardener. He wasn’t aware you could speak another language so fluently.

You nodded, figuring that some advice wouldn’t hurt anyone. You started to walk towards the gardens with your maids behind you as the gardener walked next to you.

Once you reached outside, you spoke to the gardener, in French, about how you wanted to change some of the flowers and replace them with better ones.

“My Lord,” one of his servants said to Leon, “the grounds are ready for you to practice sword fighting, Your instructor is waiting.”

He grunted in response to his servant, "Very well. I shall head there now," He was about to turn and walk away when he suddenly changed his mind.

"Actually," he said to the servant, "I shall go outside first," The servant's brow furrowed in confusion, but Leon ignored him. He began walking outside instead, heading towards the garden area, seemingly wanting to follow you.

As Leon walked towards the garden area, his servants followed behind him. Some were confused and others surprised at the sudden change of plans.

“Je veux me débarrasser des tournesols, ils bloquent les roses de l'autre côté du buisson,” you said to the gardener, unaware of Leon approaching the garden area, “Pouvez-vous remplacer les tournesols par des pivoines?”

The French gardener nodded at your suggestion, "Bien sûr. Nous pouvons certainement remplacer les tournesols par des pivoines. Elles seront de bien meilleures plantes en cette période de l'année."

The gardener began to think, "Peut-être devrions-nous aussi semer des jacinthes pour ajouter un peu de variété."

As the gardener spoke, Leon continued to walk towards the garden area. His eyes narrowed as he heard the sound of you and the gardener speaking in French. He was feeling suspicious.

“My Lord,” one of Leon’s servants followed behind him, “Shall we introduce you to the gardener? He came all this way from France.”

Leon grunted in response to his servant, his gaze still focused on you and the gardener. The way you smiled at the gardener made his blood boil.

As you both continued to speak in French, his servants looked at each other, some looking confused while others looked amused. They knew of his hatred for you, and they could tell that he was irritated by you speaking to the gardener.

Finally, Leon came to a stop a few feet behind you, his arms crossed over his chest. He remained silent, listening to the conversation between you and the gardener.

You hadn’t noticed Leon behind you but your maids, however, did notice and they glanced at the servants with a nervous expression, one that said ‘what is he doing here?’. It seemed that Leon’s irritation and anger was evident.

“Your Highness,” your maids said as they curtsied. The greeting making you a bit stiff as you turned and noticed Leon. You looked up at him, confused and a bit surprised. But the pain in your heart was still present. You followed after your maids, also curtsying Leon.

Leon's expression darkened as you both turned around to face him. His eyes were hard as they met yours, the irritation and anger written all over his face.

His servants stood quietly behind him, their eyes flickering between Leon and you, unsure of what to do. They could feel the tension in the air, and they could sense their master's anger.

"What are you doing?" Leon asked, his voice low and cold. He glanced at the gardener before looking back at you, his gaze unwavering.

You knew Leon was angry, everyone could tell, even the French gardener. It was as if anger just radiated off of him, “I was just seeking advice,” you said as you looked up at Leon.

“This is Augustus,” you said to Leon, “He’s a good friend of my brother who’s well-versed in gardening. I called for him to help,” you explained in a gentle voice. You would’ve sent him back to France but Leon didn’t really give you time to cancel plans so suddenly.

Leon's eyes narrowed as you explained why you called the gardener. His jaw clenched tightly, and his servants could see his hands balling into fists at his sides.

"Why did you not consult me before calling for this gardener?" he asked, his voice laced with irritation. His eyes flicked to the gardener, Augustus, before returning to you, “I thought I told you to consult me before you went off and made choices of your own.”

"What other plans do you have for the garden?" he continued, his gaze never leaving yours.

You glanced at my maids, seeing their nervous expression before you looked back at Leon. You could already feel the argument coming tonight.

“I wanted to get rid of the sunflowers as well as the weeds and replace them with peonies and hyacinths,” you replied.

“Some of your gardeners have been having trouble taming the weeds so I thought I could help find the root of the problem,” you mumbled softly.

As you spoke, Leon's jaw clenched even tighter. He couldn't believe you hadn't asked for his permission before making plans to change the garden.

"And you thought it was appropriate to invite a friend of your brother's to help without consulting me?" he snapped, his tone cold and biting. His eyes narrowed again as you continued, "What makes you think the problem can be solved so easily? You think you know better than my gardeners?"

Your eyes widened slightly as he snapped at you. You furrowed your brow and opened your mouth to defend yourself but ultimately decided against it. No matter what you say, he’ll just get more mad.

So, in resignation, you sighed and shook your head before you lowered your head, “No, Your Highness,” you said.

Leon's eyes narrowed further as you lowered your head, your submission fueling his anger. He loathed the fact that you so easily backed down, but he couldn't help but feel a twinge of satisfaction at your compliance.

"Exactly," he sneered, "You know nothing about gardening. Leave it to the professionals. And next time you plan something, consult me first."

Leon glanced at the gardener, who had been listening in awkwardly. He felt a pang of annoyance at the man's presence.

“My lord,” one of Leon’s servants stood next to him, “we should go back. The instructor is waiting,” he kindly reminded Leon of his sword practice. Leon's eyes flicked over to his servant, a flicker of annoyance passing through them. He wasn't finished speaking to you, but the reminder about his practice session couldn't be ignored.

He gave his servant a terse nod before turning back to you, his expression hardening once more, "This conversation isn't over," he said, his voice low and cold. He shot one final glare at the gardener before turning and walking away, his servants following behind him. He knew the argument was going to continue later.

You knew the conversation was far from over, hell, you even thought he’d make you pay for it. And that was something you dreaded. Once he was gone, you turned to look at your maids.

“Escort the young boy to his carriage,” you said before you looked at the gardener, “Je m'excuse pour ce que vous avez vu, ce fut un plaisir de vous avoir ici.”

The gardener nodded at you, a sympathetic expression on his face. He had seen plenty of couple's disagreements before, but this one seemed particularly intense.

"Ce n'tait pas de votre faute," he said, his voice soft, "Je suis tout de même heureux de vous avoir rencontrée."

You felt bad that about the whole thing. You glanced at your maids and nodded at them, signaling them to take the young gardener away while you remained on the garden.

As Leon practiced on the training ground, his mind was still on the incident in the garden. Your insistence on changing the garden, your lack of asking him for permission, and the way you had spoken to the gardener all boiled his blood.

He couldn't believe that you had invited the gardener without telling him first. Who did you think you were? And the way you had looked so timid, lowering your head in submission like that. It made his blood boil even more.

He swung his sword harder, channeling his anger into his training.

Later. Later, he would deal with you.

For the rest of the day, you spent your time in the library reading and learning about Leon’s kingdom. There was so little that you could do now that Leon was angry at you yet again.

As you sat on a table near a window, you could see Leon practicing on the tracking grounds with other soldiers. The sun was beaming down on them, the sounds of their swords clanking being heard even from the second floor where you were.

You sighed, why did he have to be so rude to you? His kingdom won the war. Shouldn’t that make him happy? But you didn’t want to think about it. You redirected your gaze down towards your book and continued reading.

Some of the soldiers were sitting down, taking a break from their training as they watched Leon train with another soldier.

“Don’t he look more…tense?” One soldier said to the other. The other narrowed his eyes and tried to study Leon before he shook his head, “Huh…I don’t see it.”

“My lord—“ said the soldier Leon was training with, “We must take a break, you’ll hurt yourself.”

Leon ignored the soldier's pleas, his eyes focused on the sword in his hand.

"I don't need a break," he snapped, his voice harsh. No matter how hard he trained, he couldn't shake his annoyance with you. He lunged forward with his sword, aiming a blow at the soldier, who quickly blocked it. The clash of steel on steel echoed through the training grounds.

“Wait,” said the other soldier, “No, yeah, he’s tense,” the two soldiers sitting down nodded as they observed Leon going all out on his training.

The soldier started to block Leon’s blows but did not aim any at Leon. It was dangerous training with someone with so much anger. And that was until the soldier’s sword flew out of his hands and fell on the floor, a victory for Leon.

The two soldiers on the bench clapped and cheered for Leon, “Good work, my lord,” one said. The soldiers of his castle were good friends with Leon. Sometimes they’d go out for drinks after winning a battle.

Leon panted heavily as he stood over the soldier whose sword had been knocked out of his hand. His eyes were still hard and anger burned in them. He wiped the sweat off his forehead with his arm before glancing at the two soldiers who had been watching. He grunted in acknowledgment of their praise but didn’t smile. He dropped his own sword on the ground with a clatter and started walking towards the side of the training grounds. He needed a break.

One of the soldiers tossed Leon a water pouch as the other spoke to the soldier on the floor, “For a rookie, you did pretty good. Not amazing. But good,” he said with a smug smirk.

“Oh shut it, Andrews,” the rookie soldier said as Andrews simply laughed, his laugh echoing out on the training grounds. Andrews was a much older and experienced soldier, the guy next to him, Kyle, was also experienced. But they were both loyal.

Leon stopped for a moment, lifting the water pouch to his lips and taking a long drink. The water cooled his body, but it didn’t do anything to cool his anger.

His eyes flickered up to the castle, seeing your figure sitting at the window. He gritted his teeth, his gaze turning cold. You were the reason he was so angry in the first place.

He handed the water pouch back to the soldiers before turning and walking towards the castle, striding with purpose.

It was time to confront you.

Leon walked angrily through the halls of the castle, his boots thudding loudly against the marble floor. The servants who walked past him quickly scurried out of his way, intimidated by his intense glare. He didn't bother making eye contact with them as he walked.

He made his way towards the library, his mind set on confronting you. You couldn’t just go around making decisions on your own. He was the king, and he would show you your place. Without knocking, he pushed open the door to the library.

You looked up at the sound of the doors being slammed opened and saw Leon. You quickly put your pencil down and stood up, “My lord,” you said in a surprised tone as your eyes widened slightly.

You started fixing your dress as it reached the floor. The dress was a simple yellow dress that was tight from your waist and chest. It wasn’t a corset but the dress did hug your breasts nicely. The sleeves reached your elbows and the fabric was made of silk. Then you walked to stand in front of him with the table behind you. Your hands clasped together in front of you as you looked up at him.

Even in heels, he stood taller than you. But now wasn’t the time to think about that. He hated you and his words from last night still lingered in your mind. Of how he’d rather sleep with other women and have heirs with them than with you.

Leon stalked towards you, his eyes fixed on you with a mixture of anger and annoyance. He looked at your dress, taking in your form, his gaze lingering a beat too long on your chest before he met your eyes again. He could feel himself getting more annoyed just from looking at you. He wanted to yell at you, to reprimand you, to make you understand your place as his wife.

“We need to talk,” he said, his voice tense and low.

You nodded slowly, “Alright,” you muttered, “what do you want to talk about?”

Leon clenched his fists at his sides, trying to control his anger, "You had no right to invite that gardener to the castle without my permission. Who do you think you are, making decisions like that without consulting me?"

“I didn’t mean to offend you like that,” you tried to defend yourself, your tone quiet and timid, “I thought I could make my own choices since the gardens fall under my duties as lady of the house.”

He took a step closer, his voice low and menacing, "You need to learn your place, princess. You're my wife, nothing more. You don't make decisions here, I do."

You looked up at him as he stepped closer. His reminder once again being cruel. You were nothing else than just a pawn to him. Something to help get closer to the crown so he’d be king.

He paused for a moment, his eyes scanning over your form again, before he continued, "And another thing...”

“What other thing, my lord,” you muttered and furrowed your brows confused. But, something in you took control and you were getting angry as well, “Did you find a whore last night?” You suddenly asked.

Leon stiffened, his eyes narrowing at your words. He hadn't expected you to bring up the topic of his nighttime activities.

"Yes, I did," he lied, his voice hard, "Why do you ask?"

There was a bitter undertone to his words. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he hadn't been able to go through with his plans to find a woman at the tavern. Every woman he saw paled in comparison to you, and the thought of bedding someone else left a sour taste in his mouth.

“Because whatever you do also affects me,” you muttered and looked up at him with a firm expression.

“Your actions have consequences and I do not want you to squander my reputation. I am a noble lady, not the wife of a man who won’t stop sharing himself to the whores of the night,” you said through gritted teeth. You hated his words. You hated *him.*

Leon's expression darkened at your words, his jaw clenching at being reprimanded by you.

"You have no right to tell me what I can and cannot do," he snapped, "I'll do as I please, and who I please. And it is none of your concern."

He took another step closer, his height towering over you, "You're my wife, that's all. You don't have the right to make decisions, and you certainly don't have the right to shame me for pursuing other...pleasures."

“Don’t you realize what might happen if your father knows that you’ve been having sex with random women and that you bring home an illegitimate son into your family?” You said as you looked up at him with furrowed brows, how could he be so selfish?

“I will not shame you and I am not telling you what to do. Just do things with the consequences in mind,” you muttered as your gaze slowly fell down.

Leon rolled his eyes at your words, his irritation only growing.

"I'm not stupid," he snapped, "I know what the consequences could be to my actions, but I also know that I am a grown man who can make his own decisions. And what would you know about consequences? You've never had to make a hard decision in your life."

He took another step closer, his chest almost touching yours as he leaned in, his voice low, "I'd watch your tone if I were you. Remember your place."

You watched as he took a step closer, his chest so close to yours but you didn’t focus on that. You held my ground, looking up at him.

“Why?” You muttered, “What are you going to do if I don’t watch my tone? I’m only trying to look out after you. After us.”

He may hate you, and he may have a reason why. But you didn’t want his actions to drag you down as well.

"I appreciate your concern," he said, his voice sarcastic, "But I don't need you to look out for me. I can handle myself."

He took a step closer, so close that you could feel his breath on your skin, "And if you don't start watching your tone, you might find yourself with a sore arse."

You furrowed your brow and stared in disbelief and fear. Was he seriously going to put his hands on you?

“A sore arse? Do you hear yourself?” You mumbled. He was getting too close. For a moment you were confused because he’d never touch you and yet here he was. Telling you he was going to spank you.

“You dare lay your hands on me?” You muttered, “What would the people think if they found out that you…that you…”

You inhaled and looked at him, “Your people will be displeased if they hear that you lay your hands on your wife,” you muttered.

Leon's expression darkened as you challenged him, his jaw clenching. He didn't like being threatened by you, not one bit.

"And who do you think the people would believe?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous, "Me, the future king, or you, the useless princess who serves no purpose other than to warm my bed at night."

You narrowed your eyes at him, to hear that words come from his mouth was hurting. Especially since he’s been treating you as if you were nothing.

“I won’t bother you,” you whispered, it seemed that no matter what you say he’d still find something to be angry at you about. It was pointless talking to him.

Leon's expression softened slightly as he saw the pain in your eyes, but he quickly steeled himself, refusing to show any signs of compassion.

"Good," he said coldly, "Because you're already a nuisance as it is."

He took a step back, putting some distance between you and him, his arms crossing over his chest.

"Just stay out of my way," he said, his voice still cold, "And try not to make my life even more difficult than it already is."

You nodded and curtsied before you took my books from the table and left the library. You didn’t want him to see you cry, not after last night and not after this morning. It seemed as if he only ever made you cry.

You walked the halls of the castle with your books in your arms, your heels echoing in the air as you maneuvered to your shared quarters. Tears blurred your vision.

Once you entered our room, you closed the door behind you and put your books on your vanity desk before you plopped down on your bed. The bed that only you slept in. You stuffed your face in one of the pillows and just let it all out.

Curse this kingdom. Curse the war. Curse your father for giving you to Leon, a heartless man. You hated everything.

Leon watched you as you walked away, a pang of guilt in his chest at the sight of your tears as the library door closed behind you. He knew that he was being harsh with you, but he had to be. He couldn't let himself get close to you, no matter how much the part of him that wanted to comfort you grew.

He clenched his jaw and pushed down the guilt, reminding himself of the pain that you represented. The pain of the war, the pain of their families' deaths.

He turned and walked away, heading back towards the training fields.

As he entered the training grounds, Andrews noticed Leon’s conflicted expression, “Now that’s a face I haven’t seen since the war,” he pointed out as he blocked one of Leon’s attacks with his sword.

Leon grunted as Andrews blocked his attack, his expression hardening once again as he lunged forward with a flurry of attacks.

"Shut up," he said through gritted teeth, "I'm just a bit distracted, that's all."

He slashed at Andrews with his sword, the blade narrowly missing the other man's shoulder. Leon's moves were a bit more sloppy than usual, his mind still occupied with thoughts of you. Andrews, being one of Leon’s most loyal friends, knew something else was wrong with Leon. But he wasn’t going to spell it out for him.

“If you say so,” he muttered before he blocked another one of Leon’s attacks, followed by a strike against Leon’s side. Andrews was very good at fighting, being older and the captain of the castle’s defense allowed him to be the best.

Leon hissed as Andrews' sword hit his side, the impact knocking the air out of him. He stumbled back, his hand going to his side as he regained his breath, annoyance replacing the guilt he had been feeling.

"You bastard," he muttered, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Andrews. He lunged forward once again, this time going on the offensive as he swung his sword towards Andrews' chest.

Andrews raised a brow and moved to the side before he swiped his leg under Leon’s feet, watching as he fell down on the floor.

Then, Andrews knelt down and offered him a hand to stand up, “You fight with too much emotion. What’s going on?” He spoke firmly. He pulled Leon up on his feet, walking back towards the side bench and tossed Leon a water pouch.

Leon grumbled as he caught the water pouch and taking a deep draught from it. He sat down on the bench next to Andrews, his hands resting on his knees as he looked at the ground.

"It's... complicated," he said finally, his voice low.

He paused, not wanting to admit what he was feeling, but he knew Andrews wouldn't give up that easily. He was a stubborn bastard.

After taking a swig from his own water pouch, Andrews rested his forearms on his knees, leaning forward as he glanced at Leon.

“Complicated?” he muttered as he straightened up and took another swig. He then put his pouch down on the bench and looked back at Leon.

“It’s only complicated if you give it too much thought,” Andrews said.

Leon let out a scoff, rolling his eyes.

"Easy for you to say," he muttered, "You're not the one who married someone you're supposed to hate."

He clenched his jaw, his hands gripping his knees tightly. The memory of your tear-streaked face came back to him, and he felt that damn pang of guilt again.

"You don't know what it's like," he said, his voice low and bitter.

Andrews hummed and nodded slowly, “Supposed to,” he repeated in a mutter before he turned his head to look at the other soldiers sparring.

“I don’t know what it’s like to be married to someone I hate,” Andrews spoke after a few seconds of silence, “but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t understand what it’s like to see it.”

“The lady…” he spoke slowly, “I’ve only ever met her once back when she first moved in,” Andrews chuckled at the memory, “Poor lady was lost roaming around the castle she ended up here and nearly got her head caught off.”

Leon couldn’t help but chuckle slightly at the memory as well. He himself hadn’t been there when you had wandered into the training grounds, but he had heard all about it from the knights.

“Yeah, she’s not exactly the most observant,” he muttered, his voice laced with a hint of affection, though he quickly bit down on his tongue to stop himself. He looked up at Andrews, his expression turning slightly bitter again.

"What are you getting at?" he asked, his voice guarded.

Andrews sighed and looked at Leon, “What I’m trying to say is,” he muttered softly, “the princess came from far away, ripped from her home and she obviously doesn’t know things about this place.”

“You can’t expect her to know everything. She’s…alone,” he muttered and looked back at the knights sparring, “Put yourself in her shoes. You’re being wedded to someone from the enemy kingdom and you’re being sent to foreign terrain where you know absolutely nothing about. And turns out your partner hates you and you don’t even know why, see what I’m trying to say?”

“She didn’t start the war but she helped you finish it. That’s a sacrifice not many are willing to make,” Andrews said before he took a swig of his water pouch.

Leon's jaw clenched as he listened to Andrews.

He knew what he was saying was true, but it was easier said than done. His resentment towards you ran deep, and even though he knew you weren't responsible for the war, he couldn't help but feel resentment towards you by association.

"I know," he mumbled, his voice low, "But it's not that simple. It's not just about the war. It's about everything."

He paused, his grip on his knees tightening, "It's about our families. The people we lost. It's all...complicated."

“And no one says it’ll ever be easy,” Andrews continued, “but you haven’t given her a chance to adapt. She doesn’t have anyone. She’s alone in a place where she’s hated, it’s a surprise she’s made it this long without begging her father to go back home.”

Andrews sighed and looked at Leon, “No one is telling you to forgive and forget. The war was scarring and many lives were lost. But to blame it all on the lady who doesn’t know a thing about swords seems very wrong to me.”

He then put his hand on Leon’s shoulder in a friendly manner, “At the end of the day, she isn’t your enemy. She never will be and she can’t. She’s here.”

Leon let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He knew, deep down, that Andrews was right. You hadn't started the war, and you had no control over the actions of the king. But the feelings of anger and resentment towards you were still there, rooted deep within him. He couldn't just turn them off, no matter how much he wanted to.

He looked over at Andrews, his expression conflicted, "What do you want me to do?" he asked, his voice low.

Andrews hummed, it wasn’t easy to just get rid of your anger overnight. It wasn’t possible but it also didn’t mean that you’d never get rid of it.

“Do what’s right. Start by seeing her for who she is and not just a person from her kingdom. She’s her own person just like how you are more than just the crown prince,” Andrews said, he was always a good friend. Wise and always knew what to say to Leon.

“It won’t be easy,” Andrews said before he stood up and stretched, “it takes time but it’ll be worth it.”

Leon clenched his jaw, his eyes staring down at the ground as Andrews spoke. He knew his friend was right, but it was easier said than done.

"I'll try," he mumbled finally, his voice strained.

He stood up, his shoulders feeling heavy with the weight of his thoughts. He knew he needed to push down those negative feelings and start seeing you for who you were.

As Andrews stretched, Leon looked at him, "Thanks, Andrews," he muttered, "For always being a pain in my ass."

Andrews chuckled and gently bumped Leon’s shoulder, “The price to pay when you’re friends with me, eh?”

For the rest of the evening, training went well. The sun had started to set, and you were walking around the halls of the castle by yourself, admiring the paintings on the walls.

It wouldn’t be easy, like Andrews said, but it was better to start seeing you in your own light instead of just generalizing you. You didn’t know a thing about swords and fighting, much less about war.

[456x001]

okay huge essay incoming:

and this is based off a post i saw earlier by my awesome mutual @midnight--sadness (her blog is awesome btw) where she talked about gi hun’s ability to forgive in ho. so i’ll start off by prefacing some of the great points she made about gi hun’s trusting nature and his selfless ability to forgive others:

we’ve seen time and time again how trusting gi hun is even if it’s to a fault. it’s simply in his nature to trust and love and to care about other people in the selfless way he does. given that, i think he could forgive in ho. if he sees in ho actually working to make a change and make things right for the betterment of others that have been wronged by the games (and whether or not in ho will or actually even wants to is what we’ll be getting into later), i believe he can forgive him. despite all the horrible things he’s done, despite the unforgivable, irredeemable mistakes he’s made. he’s more than justified in not forgiving him but i’m just saying he might because if anyone could it’s gi hun. he’s made the point time and time again that he isn’t like the masked men and would never become hateful in the ways they are.

now let’s talk a bit about gi hun’s relationship with young-il. gi hun's worry for young-il during the games is so raw and heartfelt. he’s not just strategizing or playing to survive-he genuinely cares about young-il's well-being, even in a scenario where survival often demands selfishness. his willingness to risk everything to make sure young-il was okay shows how deeply gi hun values connection and loyalty. in ho, as the frontman, watches all of this unfold. seeing how much gi-hun cared for his alter ego “young-il" must have left a mark, even if in ho wouldn't openly admit it.

when the truth comes out that young-il and the frontman are the same person it's going to hit gi hun like a ton of bricks. gi hun will have to reconcile the caring, vulnerable young-il with the cold, calculating frontman. it will once again challenge everything he believes about people and their capacity for change. in ho, for all his control and detachment, won't be immune to this confrontation either. gi hun's unwavering belief in him as young-il could be the thing that cracks his carefully built armor.

this dynamic is so layered with unspoken emotions, unacknowledged bonds, and so much potential for heartbreak and redemption. it’s no wonder they gave us at the edge of our seats. now here’s the crux of the discussion. do we think gi hun’s belief in young-il's goodness, his inherent belief in the goodness of people could be enough to pull in ho back toward redemption?

we don’t know the answer to that yet, but i will say this. we’ve seen the final defying act of the villain sacrificing his life at the end for the greater good many times before. however, redemption doesn't always have to end in self-sacrifice. it could mean in ho finding a way to dismantle the system from the inside or choosing to protect gi hun and others while carving out a new path for himself. gi hun's belief in young-il could serve as a bridge for in ho to reconnect with the part of himself that still values humanity, without needing to face total destruction.

in a show like squid game tragedy feels inevitable but in ho's complexity gives him the potential to break free from that cycle of the self-sacrificial villain. if the writers explore his humanity further, there's room for a story where redemption and survival coexist— where he doesn't have to lose his life to find the good within himself.

it’s okay to hope. even in a world as bleak as squid game. personally, to me that feels a lot more compelling than the trope of self sacrifice that we’ve seen in the past. it gives in ho a chance to truly live with his choices, grow from them, and navigate the complexities of redemption, rather than taking the "easy" way out of a grand gesture. it’s a more challenging story to tell for sure but it would also feel satisfying.

i know it may seem like i’m trying to paint a fairy tale but here’s why i think it could work.

squid game thrives on subverting expectations. taking in ho down a path where he survives, changes, and potentially becomes an ally or disruptor within the system could be far more groundbreaking than another shock-value death. it could challenge the audience to grapple with forgiveness and morality in ways that are more impactful than a tragic ending. gi hun's unwavering hope in humanity could become the key to helping in ho see his own worth and capacity for change. in ho is such a layered character, and his survival would be more shocking in a show as grim as squid game. it would challenge the bleakness and give the story a deep emotional payoff. the shock value of how he survives and redeems himself could carry as much weight as a tragic death.

i really value the complexity and emotional depth in this show gives us in within the narrative and i can’t wait to see how hwang dong-hyuk continues to challenge the bounds of storytelling and reach beyond the obvious in season 3 as he’s done with these past two seasons.

[pluckyredhead]

Character Profile: Gregorio de la Vega and Hugh Dawkins (Extraño and Tasmanian Devil)

I was thinking that it's been too long since I've done a character profile, and then I realized that I don't think I've ever posted about DC's CANONICALLY MARRIED, HISTORICALLY SIGNIFICANT DILFS, a.k.a. Wizard Daddy and his furry husband. I'm so sorry. I've failed you all.

ANYWAY MEET GREGORIO AND HUGH:

Gregorio (on the right) is the first out superhero in comics, ever, from before the Comics Code even allowed gay characters. Hugh is DC's third gay superhero (Pied Piper came out a year before him) and the first canonically queer member of the Justice League. See? Historically significant!

CONTENT WARNING: Homophobia, racial stereotypes, attempted suicide, HIV/AIDS, and some particularly gory fridging (Hugh got better).

Gregorio de la Vega first appeared in Millennium #2. Now, they never actually use the word "gay" in the eight issue Millennium miniseries, but, well...

No, seriously, despite the fact that they never use words like "gay" or "homosexual" in the pages of the comic itself, the art and dialogue make Gregorio's sexuality very clear - and in case that wasn't enough, the editors do use the word "gay" in the letter columns.

Millennium was an event in which the Guardians and the Zamarons identified a group of diverse humans to be "the vanguard of human evolution" and gave them all superpowers. Gregorio is hanging out in a cantina in Peru when they show up to give him the news:

He's calling himself a fruit do you get it??? Honestly I love him so much. He's so extra.

I want to emphasize again how groundbreaking Gregorio is. Like, yes, obviously he is a raging stereotype and arguably a problematic one. But this was 1988. The Comics Code Authority would not be updated to permit queer characters until the following year (probably because of Gregorio, in large part). The fact that he existed at all, and not cloaked in layers upon layers of subtext, was a huge step forward. No, he's not perfect, but when you're the only canonically queer superhero in mainstream comics, that's an impossible ask.

Anyway. Gregorio's not super into the idea of being a main character at first, but after a self-loathing suicide attempt (Wally saves him), he decides fuck it, why not be a superhero, and joins the team that will become the New Guardians. He's granted his superpowers, which are generic magic ones, and takes the codename Extraño.

Unfortunately, in the spinoff series that followed Millennium, New Guardians, things get...uh...kind of rough. By which I mean that a) the original writer left, b) the new writer dialed Gregorio's gay stereotyping waaay back in favor of, um, Latino stereotyping instead (he stops calling everyone "honey" and starts calling them "amigo"), and c) the team is attacked by the Hemo-Goblin, an HIV-positive white supremacist vampire. Yes, really. It's fucking awful.

The Hemo-Goblin scratches Gregorio and bites Jet, a Black woman on the team. They both subsequently test positive for HIV. There are many letters from fans pointing out that it's nearly impossible to contract HIV that way, but the editors insisted that actually it was totally plausible, and then implied that probably Gregorio already had HIV because he was gay (even though he had tested negative earlier in the book). Then Jet dies. Again: it's fucking awful.

New Guardians was canceled soon after that and Gregorio pretty much disappeared. By the 2000s, he was viewed as basically an embarrassment, if anyone even remembered him at all: so stereotypical, so flamboyant, so offensive, so cringe. In the Love Is Love anthology, everyone's least favorite human Dan DiDio wrote a story where he claimed that Extraño died of AIDS back in the 80s, which...literally wasn't true??? The publisher of the goddamn company and even he assumed that the Cringey Stereotype must have died the Stereotypical Death.

And then in 2016, Gregorio got a makeover, courtesy of Steve Orlando and Fernando Blanco:

HELLO.

Yeah, so Gregorio is a silver fox now who hangs out with Apollo and Midnighter, does wizard shit, and lives in Lima with his husband and their adopted daughter. SO LET'S TALK ABOUT THAT HUSBAND:

Could you tell he's Australian???

Hugh Dawkins, a.k.a. Tasmanian Devil (no relation to the Looney Tunes character except that they are both owned by WB and, obviously, Tasmanian) actually first appeared in the Super Friends tie-in comics to the cartoon of the same name, in 1977, as part of a plotline where the Justice League teamed up with a bunch of international superheroes.

As you can see above, Hugh, like the other international superheroes, is a massive stereotype. He's also a were-Tasmanian devil who can grow really big, like many Australians. (Even though he's been around for 50 years, there are very few panels of Hugh in human form, but if you need to know for reasons of all the fanfic I hope you are about to write: he's blond.)

In the late 80s, Hugh and the other international superheroes from this story were incorporated into the main DCU as a team called the Global Guardians. They became occasional supporting characters to the various Justice League International books, and some of them joined various Justice League branches. Others had random cameos here and there, and in a 1992 issue of Justice League Quarterly, Hugh's random cameo involved casually mentioning that he is gay:

Again, this is a big deal. It's only 1992, meaning the only canonically queer superheroes in mainstream comics are Extraño (1988), Pied Piper (1991), and Northstar (1992). And this is a Justice League book. AND IT'S 1992. When Hugh talks about things being hateful for gays, he's likely referring to the virulent homophobia in Tasmania at the time (homosexuality wouldn't be decriminalized there for another five years).

Which means it was also a big deal that Hugh went on to join the European branch of the Justice League shortly after this, making him the first canonically queer member of any branch of the League. Of course, his sexuality was never mentioned during the year and a half he was on the team...or in any comic...until 2006. And then it was a vaguely homophobic joke involving Hal Jordan. But still!

(There is a panel that I SWEAR exists from the JLI era of Hugh describing a total bullshit version of his origin which granted him "the power of 106 Tasmanian devils!" which I cannot for the life of me find but was the first thing that made me fall in love with this character. If you stumble across it, please let me know what issue number it is?)

Hugh then had the misfortune of next appearing...sort of...in the infamously awful Cry for Justice in 2009. I say sort of because it's revealed that the villain, Prometheus, has skinned him and turned him into a rug. So we only see his skin. The late 2000s were really, really rough, guys.

However, a year later he appeared in the Starman/Congorilla special and he was totally fine? Don't ask me how. Gorillas were involved. The issue ended with the possibility of him and Starman (the Mikaal Tomas version) hooking up, but then the New 52 happened, so that never came to anything.

...BUT WHO CARES, BECAUSE NOW HE'S MARRIED TO GREGORIO AND THEY HAVE A DAUGHTER AND THEY ARE IN LOVE.

The nickname! The clutching! I'm dying.

Did I mention the canon threesome with John Constantine?

HUGH LOVES HIS RIDICULOUS HUSBAND SO MUCH. Tragically the JLQ only showed up in these two stories but all the baby queer superheroes in the DCU call Gregorio "Tio" and it makes me want to weep. HE WAS ALL ALONE IN 1988 AND NOW HE HAS A FAMILY. I AM VERKLEMPT. 😭😭😭

Unfortunately Gregorio and Hugh are pretty much relegated to occasionally appearing in Pride specials these days, but maybe if we all wish really hard, DC will let Steve Orlando or Andrew Wheeler write a miniseries about how they met and fell in love. I think Nick Robles should draw it.

ANYWAY I LOVE THESE HISTORICALLY SIGNIFICANT HUSBANDS, THE END.