#may not be as hateful or evil as i wanted. but what can i say i am a genuine guy..

[turtle-paced]

Have you ever felt like Martin doesn't like Cersei? The way he writes about her made me question? I mean she is both evil and stupid and it seems like we are supposed to laugh at her.

Cersei is pretty evil, and while I don't believe she's stupid, it's hard not to laugh (incredulously or otherwise) at her many, many bad ideas over the course of the series. Especially in AFFC.

But it's also clear to me that GRRM has compassion for this villain he's created - and that he has right from the start.

Let's put this under a cut for domestic violence and sheer length.

Ned touched her cheek gently. "Has he done this before?" "Once or twice." She shied away from his hand. "Never on the face before. Jaime would have killed him, even if it meant his own life." Cersei looked at him defiantly. "My brother is worth a hundred of your friend." Eddard XII, AGoT

GRRM chooses to frame the pivotal confrontation between Ned and Cersei with the reality of the domestic violence Cersei has experienced. Whatever else happens in that scene, whatever else she's done that might or might not be justified, the author makes sure the reader knows, Ned knows, that Cersei has good reason to hate Robert.

When she hesitated, then sat, Tyrion knew she was lost, despite her loud declaration of, "I will not marry again!" "You will marry and you will breed. Every child you birth makes Stannis more a liar." Their father's eyes seemed to pin her to her chair. Tyrion III, ASoS

This is re-emphasised as Tyrion witnesses Tywin's abuse of Cersei. Even Tyrion, who also has good reason to hate Cersei, cannot help but see how their father completely ignores Cersei's desires, reduces her autonomy to rubble, and above all makes her feel small. This is quite deliberately in Tyrion's PoV to make that dissonance stronger. Cersei is awful, but Tyrion can take no satisfaction in Tywin mistreating her.

Similarly,

His sister sat in a puddle of wine, cradling her son's body. Her gown was torn and stained, her face white as chalk. A thin black dog crept up beside her, sniffing at Joffrey's corpse. "The boy is gone, Cersei," Lord Tywin said. He put his gloved hand on his daughter's shoulder as one of his guardsmen shooed away the dog. "Unhand him now. Let him go." She did not hear. It took two Kingsguard to pry loose her fingers, so the body of King Joffrey Baratheon could slide limp and lifeless to the floor. Tyrion VIII, ASoS

Cersei's grief over watching her son murdered in front of her is a key character moment for her. Is Joffrey a good person? No. Is Cersei's immediate response of demanding Tyrion's arrest a good and just idea? No. Is that grief still real? Absolutely.

It was more than Cersei could stand. I cannot let them see me cry, she thought, when she felt the tears welling in her eyes. She walked past Ser Meryn Trant and out into the back passage. Alone beneath a tallow candle, she allowed herself a shuddering sob, then another. A woman may weep, but not a queen. Cersei III, AFFC

That lasts. It's not healthy but it is genuine. The author isn't putting this in here so we laugh at her. The author is putting this here to help us remember throughout the parade of evil and stupid crap Cersei's about to do that Cersei is a human with human emotions.

And when all that crap has backfired on Cersei, the author makes sure we know that the punishment inflicted on her is not for her sins but instead for her biological sex. He shows her break from that treatment.

Words are wind, she thought, words cannot hurt me. I am beautiful, the most beautiful woman in all Westeros, Jaime says so, Jaime would never lie to me. Even Robert, Robert never loved me, but he saw that I was beautiful, he wanted me. She did not feel beautiful, though. She felt old, used, filthy, ugly. Cersei II, ADWD

The walk of shame is just misogyny, pure and simple, nothing to do with what Cersei's actually done wrong. It is deliberately not karma out to get Cersei. It is deliberately not comeuppance. It is a reminder that Cersei has a point all those times when she points out she's been treated differently because of her sex - even if it's not the whole of the reason people don't respect her.

Even if a reader doesn't think Cersei deserves mercy, even if a reader finds her political bumbling funny, there's a lot around her that shows us that the reader wants us to think carefully about what made Cersei both a horrible person and a horrible politician. She is most definitely not there just to be the butt of the author's joke. That's Victarion.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

hello hello! you're writing tips have been so helpful and i wanted to ask for help on how to write hypocrite like characters. thank you!!

Writing Notes: Hypocrisy

Hypocrisy - a feigning to be what one is not or to believe what one does not; behavior that contradicts what one claims to believe or feel, especially: the false assumption of an appearance of virtue or religion

Hypocrisy is a special case of cognitive dissonance, produced when a person freely chooses to promote a behavior that they do not themselves practice.

Cognitive Dissonance Theory. Has a long and esteemed history in social psychology. As originally formulated (Festinger, 1957), cognitive dissonance is induced when a person holds two contradictory beliefs, or when a belief is incongruent with an action that the person had chosen freely to perform. Because this situation produces feelings of discomfort, the individual strives to change one of the beliefs or behaviors in order to avoid being inconsistent.

Hypocrite Trope

People — particularly those with authority, be it moral or political — are expected to act in accordance with the ideals they espouse. That is to say, they should practice what they preach. Those who don't are hypocrites.

The dichotomy here is that they may fervently and honestly believe what they say is right and good… they just don't have the moral strength or willpower to consistently live up to their own high standards. (Unless, of course, they're outright liars with no intention of living up to said standards.)

it's possible to be hypocritical and a good person at the same time, whether that would be a "Jerk with a Heart of Gold" or a full-blown "Nice Guy" character trope, and it depends on how severe the hypocrisy is (and the hypocrite's level of self-awareness). This, in return, is what makes hypocrisy mainly considered to be a minor form of jerkassery by default.

It depends on whether this is intentional or not.

One writer would do this intentionally so the character would go through a Jerkass Realization.

Hypocritical Humor is a minor degree of this, when Played for Laughs.

Another writer may make a character or do something but then forgot about it later on, then making them do things that contrast with earlier claims.

It usually takes fans or other writers to point them out, and it’s up to the writer to fix it or leave it like that.

Some Subtropes

Arbitrary Skepticism: Characters who deal with the strange and bizarre on a regular basis are skeptical when they run into something strange and bizarre.

A Wolf in Sheep's Clothing: A character pretends to be harmless or friendly to hide their actual self.

Broken Aesop: When a story itself doesn't mesh with the ideals it promotes.

Devil in Plain Sight: When someone who is Obviously Evil isn't seen as such by a general populace that is surrounded by other evils who are obvious, but only a minority can see it.

Doublethink: AKA cognitive dissonance; when one believes in two mutually exclusive ideas at the same time.

False Prophet: Someone claiming to be a messianic figure is actually deceiving their followers.

Knight Templar: A person who firmly believes their own cause to be just and righteous, even when it isn't.

Tautological Templar: Somebody who believes that they are good, and that makes everything they do good by default.

The Horseshoe Effect: The extremists on one side aren't that different from the extremists on the other side.

You Are What You Hate: People hating others for the same traits they themselves have or what they would eventually have.

Examples

Geryon, a monster from The Divine Comedy who guards Eighth Circle of Hell, is the biological manifestation of fraud. It may have the face of a beautiful man, but behind that face is the body of a massive winged serpent with a tail ripe with venom.

Gone with the Wind: Gerald O'Hara fled Ireland, where foreigners had taken over the country's lands and exploited an underclass to work them so the new landowners could become rich. He then immigrated to the United States and became a wealthy, plantation-owning slaver.

Merlin: A deliberate and fascinating example is King Uther. The reason he hates magic in the first place is that he made a deal with a sorceress to conceive a son with his barren wife. Furthermore, he describes his deceased wife as "my soul" and yet we later find out that he had an affair with his best friend's wife, and that (as he says to his son) "I know about the temptations of serving girls."

In Spirited Away, Yubaba refuses to accept Chihiro into her bathhouse because in her words, Chihiro is a "spoiled, lazy crybaby [with] no manners". Shortly afterwards, Yubaba is interrupted by her baby, who she immediately coddles and pampers, and who fits Yubaba's description of Chihiro perfectly. Furthermore, she criticizes her employees for being greedy and attracting the wrong customer when Greed is one of Yubaba's defining characteristics.

Tangled: Mother Gothel lectures Rapunzel about the dangerous selfish evil people of the outside world… when she's the one who kidnapped Rapunzel as a baby for her own selfish reasons. Rapunzel is quick to point this out when she discovers the truth.

Smerdyakov in The Brothers Karamazov is really just thought of as a scullion who has airs of intellectualism about him, and who carries blasphemous notions about religion. He's also thought of as pathetic to others because he suffers from epileptic seizures. The idea of him being the murderer is absurd to everyone in town for these reasons, yet he is. Only the protagonist seems to have any deep misgivings about him.

The Divine Comedy: According to Dante's Inferno, those guilty of hypocrisy are forced to march in monk-robes made of lead in the 8th Circle of Hell, the robes symbolic of the weight of their falsehoods. Special mention goes to Caiaphas, the High Priest of Israel under Pontius Pilate who advised him to crucify Jesus for "societal good", who is crucified to the ground and trodden upon by the other hypocrites like a literal doormat.

The Handmaid's Tale: In "Milk", Steven laments the fact that Handmaids are used as sex slaves, but he has no problem trying to extort sexual favors from Janine and June in order to let them stay.

The Last Supper: Judas is covered in shadows, actively leaning away from Jesus, and spilling salt (an evil omen) all over the table, yet no one else at the Last Supper even begins to recognize Judas as the traitor Jesus has just revealed is in their midst.

In The Lord of the Rings (as explained outright in Unfinished Tales of Númenor and Middle-earth), Saruman openly berates Gandalf for his use of tobacco, but in private, in an attempt to imitate Gandalf, becomes addicted to pipeweed himself. In the movie, Saruman says, "Your love of the halflings' leaf has clearly slowed your mind" but Merry and Pippin find several large barrels of tobacco in Saruman's home later on.

Sources: 1 2 3 ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

Hi, thanks so much, appreciate your kind words! Consider these references and choose which ones would work best to incorporate in your story. Do go through the sources as well for more subtropes and examples that might serve as inspiration.

[thenweatefivesoups]

I would like to take a moment to talk about a Dog Man character.

This character is super popular. Some people hate this character with a passion. Some people think this character is adorable. Not many people think this character is very deep.

But I do, and I'd like to talk about him for a second.

Think you have a guess?

It's Li'l Petey.

You may not agree with me. After all, he's the kid-appeal character who loves poop jokes and diarrhea punchlines just for the fun of it. "He can't possibly be that deep!", you say.

But consider how he came into existence: cloned from the (so-called) world's most evilest cat, created to do nothing but heinous acts, and when he didn't fulfill that purpose and instead acted like himself, he was abandoned.

Not even a day old, and not only did he get abandoned by his only caretaker, he eventually found the strength somewhere to forgive him. And not only that, but claim that this caretaker is, quote "easy to love".

It takes a ton of compassion, a truckload of love, to forgive something as traumatic as that. And later, in Grime and Punishment, Li'l Petey encourages Petey to do the same to his father. Make no mistake, this is not because Grampa deserves it; rather, it's because resentment, as Carrie Fisher once put it, "is like drinking poison and waiting for the other person to die."

While Li'l Petey forgives those who did wrong to him, he does not redeem everyone. Sure, he reformed Flippy, Molly, and Petey, and attempted to do it to Piggy, but my main point is that he stopped trying to reform Grampa. He talks to him in For Whom the Ball Rolls about love being an action in addition to a feeling:

And then he visits Cat Jail in Fetch-22, thinking Grampa's changed. After all, if the most cold-hearted villains (Petey, Flippy) had good hearts deep down, couldn't his Grampa have one too?

But after the eighth book, other than a brief "good night" in Grime and Punishment, Li'l Petey completely stops interacting with Grampa. He doesn't even say a word to him in Big Jim Begins, despite the fact that they crossed paths multiple times. Why is that?

Because when they went to Cat Jail, he was tricked, knocked out, and the next thing he knew, he was waking up in a recycling bin.

You've gotta wonder if this gave him flashbacks. To when his life was hard, and filled with fright, after he suddenly became an unloved orphan. At the very least, this would have spooked him, especially since he ran home (this kid's a pigeon I'm telling you) and saw Grampa disguised as Petey, but no sign of his Papa.

The last thing I want to talk about is character development. Yes, even if it isn't as obvious as Petey or Chief, he did have some growth beyond what was mentioned earlier. Certainly more than Dog Man did (ha).

Initially, Li'l Petey constantly keeps his head in the clouds; Petey points this out in For Whom The Ball Rolls. He's a driving force of optimism and compassion, which sets him apart from other goofy kid characters, especially Molly. (I should right an essay about that too)

But Li'l Petey is kind to a fault. He invites his grandfather to his house to make his Papa feel better, and their house is trashed and eventually robbed. He convinces his Papa to visit him, thinking he can change just like those he reformed did, and they both got drugged. He leaves the house to save the world, and his Grampa leaves to end it. Ultimately, the end of Fetch-22 is when Li'l Petey finally stopped trying to redeem Grampa, instead opting to forgive him and move on.

In Grime and Punishment, Petey asks if he only fights when he's face-to-face with pure evil. Initially, Li'l Petey doesn't respond. But guess what happened three books later?

He did encounter pure evil. And obliterated it.

Contrary to popular belief, he's not always a pacifist; he's learned when to fight and when to use love over the course of the story. That kind of growth is very subtle and very underrated.

And that concludes my analysis on a Dog Man character who many find "annoying" and "pointless". And as this supposedly annoying, pointless character always says:

[fishyfishyfishtimes]

you have good opinions and you seem like a really cool person. thank you for being awesome on my dolphins post I appreciate it !

Thanks! The pleasure is all mine, ever since I was a child I’ve really liked dolphins and other whales. Even though my favourite animals are fish now, it annoys me to see people call them all sorts of horrid things and say they’re evil creatures with malice-filled hearts! It’s, first off, wrong, and second, shows a kind of lack of understanding about other species, how they experience the world and how they think. Because they certainly do not think like humans! And I hate how these things are used to compare one species to other species, to show how they are more good, or more evil. Even if animals fill a similar niche you cannot compare whole entire species on this ethics scale!??? They are DIFFERENT SPECIES and have evolved COMPLETELY DIFFERENTLY. Is a rabbit more good than a fox just because the fox kills the rabbit, and killing is ethically wrong? No? Exactly. This is just like fitness (biology), fitness can only be used to compare individuals of the same species, NOT whole species to each other. Doesn’t work that way!

Ah, anyway. I just don’t really like seeing people be weird about animals. Fortunately many people are not!

[1800duckhotline]

also if you want to feel evil LEAST favorite game within your favorite genre. 🫵 and why

THIS IS EVEN HARDER BECAUSE I'M USUALLY NOT A HATER.......... Or like not a fully committed one. I also don't know many like, hack 'n slash games I've played Proper myself (curse of not having moneys and watching gameplays mostly).

Maybe im just gonna say this because i've experienced it recently but while it's not my LEAST favorite or the worst of all time, from the same creators of No More Heroes... Killer is Dead is super mid. It was like. something similar to a terrible short storm followed by humid sunny skies. in a bad way. Sucks because visually it's amazing but the camera is nauseatingly sensitive and fast and the controls make you lose yourself when you play for too long. also seriously what the fuck are the gigolo missions for. like I know Why but WHY.

[lucalicatteart]

Poll adventure (paventure? lol) Day 4: read the small story tidbit below the poll for more details, OR just vote based on initial impression

(✦ see past poll results + further information HERE (link) ✦)

The winning option of yesterday's poll was that the adventurer should offer the Well Creature some bread and soup ….

"Completely unsure how to even begin to interact with the strange creature from the well, The Adventurer recalls reading in a book once that 'food is a universal language', or uh.. something like that.. thus, some hearty soup and bread would surely bridge any communication barriers... probably. He serves the little cannister of broth cold, straight from his bag just dumped into a wooden bowl, mostly because he's far too nervous to try and start a fire with someone watching.. hopefully they won't mind the food not being warmed..

After gently placing a single bread roll next to the soup, he steps back, gesturing towards the meal with an uncertain smile. The creature pauses, sniffs around, then promptly disappears back into the darkness. Just as The Adventurer begins to sulk over his apparent rejection, something stirs behind him... With a rush of creaking and plopping noises, the creature resurfaces, revealing it's massive serpent-like body as it hoists itself over the crumbled stone of the well's edge with it's many arms. It cracks open it's mighty jaw just far enough for a tiny blue tongue to slither out, then politely slurps at the soup, delicate enough not to spill any.

Stumbling backwards in shock, The Adventurer simply sits there staring the entire time whilst the creature happily (and rather quickly) enjoys their meal... Seemingly appreciative of his kind offerings, another strange slinking arm creeps up from the depths of the well, daintily opening a velvet sack with it's claws and laying out a small assortment of items onto the grass. Still a bit shaken, but also never one to turn down a free gift, The Adventurer senses that the creature intends for him to take any single item of his choosing... but, which one?"

[selfinflictedgunshotwound]

not my online friend trying to have the "not all zionists" conversation with me rn

[todayisafridaynight]

The bookmark tag was #holder until i think of a tag for these asks but To Be Real even I forgot what it was...

BUT YEAH thanks so much for reading and I'm glad it's :] Intelligible At Least :] obviously I would be up for reading anything that came to mind after putting you and your followers through All That but understandable... A lot of people I've shown the checklist items or pointed out specific behaviors to have actually said similar [i.e. I'm In This Picture And I Don't Like It], so I totally get what you mean, too!

I think a lot of my picks wound up being generalized trauma responses/aftereffects of abuse or neglect [hence I meandered off into just talking about Jo's father half the time], so I guess it's to be expected a lot of them don't read as being CSA-specific or are broadly relatable; it's not like he's supposed to be read that way, after all. I just wasn't able to zero in on many of the more specific ones because I've Never Seen Jo In This Situation Chief I Don't Know What He Thinks About His Name Or His Body Or Mirrors Or Sex Or Affection I Don't Know How Well Or Poorly He Sleeps [Presumably Poorly Though He Has The Second-Reddest Eyes In The Whole Game]

I don't really think I'll have anything to add though unless Infinite Wealth goes off the rails or I actually continue reading the book... so that will have to do... I originally was just riffing on RGGJo's attachment issues, self-destructiveness, and specific entwinement of sexuality/aggression/romance, and his portrayal in my fic lined up pretty closely, so I thought it'd be interesting to apply the same lens to Y7Jo...

But Yeah x2 thank you for the opportunity to talk about it and I'm Glad It's Intelligible At Least x2

THANK YOU i really should change that tag to something better... <- i will immediately forget to do so like a jackass

BUT YA OF COURSE OF COURSE i was truthful when i said it was a real good read (but once again. i have -5 speech skills so i can't properly word SHIT) and was a thorough examination of jo's trauma and how it manifests in him and how it's exhibited through his actions. ALWAYS a big fan of that :)

[puppmeo]

Have you ever been assumed to be romantically attracted to someone and even just the thought of that makes you want to throw up . Anybody

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

big question. i'm cis (afab) and my gf is trans (amab) and i'm sorta having a hard time reconciling something. i've been a hard line feminist since i was about 8, by 12 i was a practical library on everything and anything womens lib. i'm spending a lot more time around trans people especially my gf now and i'm sorta struggling to reconcile the trans experience with my feminism. like- i'll see trans women being like "i hate my body :(" "my voice is awful" "i need [x thing to try to pass] ugh" and like my first thought is always "NO! THATS HOW THEY FUCKING GET YOU!!! THE PATRIARCHY WANTS YOU TO HATE YOURSELF SO YOU ENSLAVE YOURSELF TO CAPITALISM AND LIVE IN A CONSTANT STATE OF NEED FOR NEW PRODUCTS TO WARD OFF THE EVER PRESENT SELF HATRED BROUGHT ON YOU BY SOCIETY" and they go "well then how do i pass/transition?" and i honestly don't know and i also don't know how far it goes before its no longer dysphoria but instead the intentional subjugation of women by patriarchy for profit. i wanna help my fellow ladies but i honestly don't know how to like- apply the feminism i was taught as a child to trans women and i want to learn as soon as possible so that i can start doing it like yesterday

hi there,

I'll be honest: if it feels hard to apply the feminism you learned as a kid to your trans friends, that's probably because the feminism you were taught didn't have trans woman in mind.

luckily, the answer to this is something that I consider to be feminism 101: what a woman does with her body is, ultimately, her fucking business.

listen: I agree with you that the beauty industry(TM) is evil. it's misogynistic, it's exploitative, it thrives by making women feel bad enough about themselves to make them spend money on shit they don't need, etc. we all know this.

now, having said that: women who like makeup or wear heels or get laser hair removal or whatever other asinine thing are not my oppressor, nor are they my enemy. dare I say, we have bigger problems.

we also need to consider that many trans women are coming to these choices from a VERY different place than many cis women are. while I think my fellow cis women really benefit from reminders that they're allowed to stop shaving or wearing eyeliner or dieting or whatever, that's because most of us have had those actions forced on us from very young ages and may genuinely need a hand to feel secure breaking out of those behaviors.

the majority of trans women are not coming from a background where they were encouraged to partake in the same personal grooming habits and modes of presentation as cis women; many of them have, in fact, been ostracized, bullied, threatened, and otherwise hurt because of forays into forms of presentation that are considered feminine. no matter how good your intentions may be, approaching your advice indelicately can, unfortunately, make you come across as no different than any transphobe on the street trying to enforce cisnormative societal expectations. it also must be said that, for many trans women, the ability to "pass" is a matter of security - for having their status as women recognized at all, and to avoid harassment and abuse in public spaces. if you live in America, like I do, politicians in power currently have an extremely explicit anti-trans agenda that can make it harrowing to be visible as a trans person, and trans women in particular are frequently targeted for violence.

there are absolutely critiques to be made the way the many trans women are expected to perform hyperfemininity. the notion that someone is duty bound to drastically change their appearance in order to transition at all is itself extremely rooted in cisnormativity, and "passing" is often contingent on being young, thin, able-bodied, reasonably wealthy, and hewing as closely to Eurocentric standards of beauty as possible. that's not awesome! but that's also not the fault of any individual; no trans person asked to be born into a world where gender norms are so narrow and failing to pass can come with a very real risk of physical danger.

also, if I can circle back to this: again, women who participate in aspects of the beauty industry are not our enemies. there are always going to be some number of women who enjoy doing their makeup or like spending time fussing over their little outfits or want breast implants or whatever. some of those women are going to be trans. my official feminist stance on this is that I don't give a shit, because I believe in bodily autonomy even when it involves things I would not do personally and the choices that individual women make about how they want to style their little meat body don't even crack the top 100 things that I'm worried about right now. it's actually kind of vitally important, politically, that trans people be able to safely pursue their preferred gender expression; while it's not particularly revolutionary for a cis woman to go outside all dolled up, whether a trans woman can do that safely is a pretty basic litmus test for how safe a given space is for queer people. it's a ridiculously low bar, and many places will still fail to clear it.

so, yeah, I don't know, dude. be there to talk to your trans girlies if they want to start unpacking some of the pressure they feel to conform to a very rigid idea of womanhood, but whether or not they can walk down the street in your neighborhood safely is a WAY bigger issue than whether they decide to do voice training or not.

if you really want to cut to the root of the insecurity and vulnerability that the beauty industry thrives on exploiting, your time is much better spent working to ensure the trans women in your life feel safe and supported and have a community where they can find support regardless of how they look.

necessary disclaimer I'm a cis girl, any transfemme folks please share your voice here and feel free to clap my ass if I've said something out of line.

[rayroseu]

You know what's sick as hell about the design of the Briar Senates??? It's that their design mirrors the weapon of the Draconias 😭✨

I know they're getting flak rn bcs they feel like "boomers who's against any progress because they value toxic tradition" but i don't really think they're like... entirely evil lol or the root of every bad thing that happened in Malleus'/Lilia's life (though im side eyeing them as one of the perpetrators still lol)

Tbh, removing them would also cause more harm (just some social issues inside the fae society tbh) than good imo, (I know many ppl say this bcs they think removing the Senates would make it possible for the peace between human and faes, but the thing is, the Senates aren't the only group that thinks this way, almost the entirety of Briar Valley does lol so forcibly removing them now would only come off as "Malleus forcing "human ideals" on the faes just because he has spent 4 years with the humans"(plus is the understanding between humans and faes truly achieved if you try to silence one group(even if that group is kinda disagreeable with anything human related lol), plus realistically the faes would trust their fellow faes first rather than some humans,

so for me, Briar Senates doesn't give off the vibe of toxic old people who drags others down in their toxic practices (while that can be an accurate description i feel like it generalizes too much about their behaviour), rather than that, Briar Senates feels more like thorns, like thorns that surrounds Briar Valley, they're not exactly harmful unless you go against them, but ultimately they're still protection for Briar Valley.

Which makes it fitting that their design has a similarity with the Draconia's weapon, they're the thorns that protects the Draconias, even if it means sheltering them.

And, tbh, if the Senates other job is to ensure Draconias lives, they're kinda doing a "decent job"??? If we can assume through Maleficia's (and Malleus' case), since we didnt hear about her leaving the Senate's side, she managed to survive for so long, unlike Meleanor😭 Also could explain why they're so enraged when Lilia arrived with the news that Meleanor died and why they hated the weak bcs what would weakness could protect JJDSJD Kinda wish their hatred against Lilia wasnt that he was a weak bat fae, but rather they doubled down on the fact he failed protecting Meleanor, imagine if Gen. Lilia wasnt as great in magic as the fae nobles were, yet he still managed to earn a position beside the Princess, all that hard work only to fail at the most crucial time, it wouldve make sense in the Senates' side to say, "Meleanor shouldnt have appointed him" (because "he's weak from the start")

oh additionally, this is just my assumption, bcs I felt like the way the Senates recoiled when Lilia hatched the egg was kinda... random?? so this is my made up reason lol Remember, the Senates were adamant that Maleficia should only be the one to hatch the egg because she's a Draconia, but Lilia did it and he's not a Draconia, What if because Lilia hatched the egg, it also affected the development of Malleus?? Like maybe for instance, it affected Malleus' lifespan, maybe he still lives more than one thousand years but he won't live for another thousand years like a pure Draconia because he's been hatched by Lilia as opposed to who they wanted it to be, which is Maleficia, OF COURSE Lilia hatching the egg is heaps better than Malleus dying before being born, but this is just my auto thoughts regarding the random hate reaction the Senates did when Lilia hatched Malleus lol

Interestingly, the placement of the stone of Draconia against the thorns (of the Senates) can also be hinted at their relationship with them??? In Meleanor's case, her stone is on top of the thorns, which may indicate that she's not under the Senate's commands or that its just telling she just lived distantly from the Senates, most importantly her stone is bigger than the thorns which may tell the fact that the Senates worships her because she's powerful and greater than them, and she's not someone who can be trapped/ordered around within the Senates. But, tragically, in Malleus' case, his stone is under the thorns, like its telling that he's under the Senates protection at all cost and his stone is little compared to Meleanor's because he's still young.

I also have a theory that the Senates are part of Briar Valley's land, like its been canonically said that they're the dead faes of Briarland, which makes think that their death is similar to the death of Conall from Maleficent 2, when Conall was buried, his body literally morphed to the land, which makes me think this is how the Senates used to be buried, when they die, they become one with the land, that's why you can't just remove them, when they are literally the Lands of Briar Valley,,,, get it lol

Though this is making me think that if this is the case then Maleficia's city,,, if the Senate's presence are the strongest there bcs that's where they're nearly buried, does that mean around Black Scale Castle is just lowkey a graveyard.... Is that why Halloween is special for Briar Valley bcs they have close ties/respect for the dead and Halloween is essentially about honoring the dead 😭✨

Off topic, but maybe the thorns part of the Draconia's staff may also tell about their age. Notice how Meleanor's staff has 3 twists which may tell that she's atleast 300~ years old, (if each twists signifies a century), while Malleus' staff only has one twist on its thorns which is accurate considering he's only 178 years old (one century).

If this is true, I'm kinda curious about Maleficia's staff... does that mean hers will be convered in thorns (she needs at least 7 twists (7 centuries~ and more) there on her staff 😭✨)

[hifugoro]

thinking sooooo hard about the removed akechi mementos request. not only because we got to see him Ace Detective-ing (peak!) but because the moral of it all is so. Akechi. very long rant incoming

one of the major things that I think sets him apart from the rest of the thieves is that he doesn’t believe that circumstances lessen the effects of actions. like at all. there are multiple examples of this but the cutscene during marukis fight where he’s the only one to keep attacking (and him being the only one to show outright disdain towards maruki in general) + the thieves den conversation with yusuke about shido / madarame (Y: “Perhaps there was a certain misstep in his life that eventually led him so astray.” A: “So you’re saying he may not have been truly evil? Your drivel’s as outlandish as always…”) are ones that stand out to me most. he doesn’t care about what causes bad people to be the way they are, and he doesn’t care what otherwise good people’s intentions are when they do bad things. the act itself is what matters

it goes without saying that this extends to himself, I mean he outright states that he cant comprehend the phantom thieves not just killing him after the engine room fight. he didn’t mean that as a “wow... I can’t believe you’re being so nice to little old me….” moment. it was him being genuinely confused as to why they’re still trying to get him on their side. because he didn’t say anything he said to gain pity points with them, nor does he think the things he said deserve enough pity points to spare his life

and then you have this mementos request. in which a corrupt diet member has a son with his mistress, who subsequently commits suicide, and then falsely accuses the son of a crime many years down the line. “you all want to help that poor victim, don’t you?” akechi says. the poor victim, who was enacting a revenge plot on his criminal father that made him into a criminal as well. huh.

again, this is all coming from the guy who like a month ago, got a heartfelt speech about how he can still come back from what he’s done because the thieves can understand where he’s coming from. this happens at (arguably) his emotional lowest, where it probably hits harder than it could at any other time. and this is his direct response to that. this is him saying, in essence, that their kind words at the end were nonsensical, because his circumstances Don’t Matter

after he sends these texts, morgana goes “But akechi is just like him…” because it’s true, but that’s the Point. It makes no difference that akechi can empathize, and place himself directly in toji’s shoes. he had a hunch about the truth the entire time, and he still aided in making toji’s act of extortion exposed. understanding the viewpoint of someone who does bad things Does Not Matter to him

and that, to me, is what his sense of justice is at it’s core. which is why in the end, he doesn’t have that same sympathy for himself that everyone else does. he killed people. end of story. no other notes

and my god! I really wish they kept this in because it really hammers in that extra layer he has to him. atlus do you hate me

[moonlightcycle571]

The Cons of being Omni-lingual

I made a post about the pros of being omni lingual. Did you really think I would make fluff without making any angst? *insert evil laugh*

As established, Cap can speak any language and knows what’s your Native tongue. Cool right? Wrong.

There’s a reason he hates speaking Themesquiran. Wonder Woman was NOT the first Amazonian he ever met. No, the first time he met one of the warrior women, it was when he was doing a sort of quest as part of his Champion duties where he met an Amazonian away from home. Seeing that she wasn’t affected by All Speak (a type of magic that lets magical or magical adjacent speak in accordance to their environment), he decides to speak Themesquiran. It does not go well. Gets insulted, accused of many things, immediate battle that he doesn’t want to be in. It’s all around not a good thing for him.

So no Diana, he will not be speaking that language, he knows it’s a trap (the last Amazonian said it was OK, but then threw an axe at his head out of reflex)

A very similar experience happened with the Valkery.

Another thing is the suspicion. Sure most of the time, it evaporates after you get to meet him, but it still hurts. What; you think Waller will think ✨magic✨ is a good enough explanation, and not try to pry into his life? Or try to exploit this other facette of him?

It gets especially rough when people don’t take it well. His a big buff white guy, so sometimes speaking more obscure language, or even any non European language, is at best seen as a parlour trick, at worst seen as an insult (how dare he defile our sacred language with his ‘dark arts’).

Another thing to note is that Billy started young. In some iterations, he started at age 8 and joins the JL at 10. So when he hears people curse him under their breath, or even to his face, in another language… he knows. He knows most people don’t think is human, and sometimes doesn’t treat him like one (it doesn’t hurt, really). He knows exactly what people say about him (be it his Cap form or Billy form). And maybe calling them out will make them worse. He’s already been called a freak enough times by his uncle and various foster families, he doesn’t need more

Maybe sometimes he would get captivated by languages long gone, and have access to tidbits of their history, but not have anyone to talk to about it. How many of the languages were forgotten and changed over time, and how many were forcibly destroyed? Would he mourn a civilisation he never knew? Was it even human? The day he found out one of his favourite obscure languages was Kryptonian, his powers opened up a bit, to see what the civilisation was like, and how it ended. He mourns in private and never tells a soul. Cap is not Kryptonian or ever been to Krypton, he has no right to openly mourn. If Supergirl noticed something different in her and Caps hang outs, she says nothing

The worst is when he forgets a word. It happens to everyone, and maybe he was in a place that makes magic glitch. It doesn’t matter. As soon as he finished the mission, he rushes back to the rock to make sure he knows EVERY language. He not forgetting, no, he refuses to forget any language. Especially since for a lot of them, he’s the only one that still remembers them (he may not know the context or culture, but at least he can keep something alive).

[tootiecakes234]

Katsuki’s POV:

I fucking hate myself. I was never supposed to become this type of sick idiot.

But here I am, across the room staring at her because she’s laughing, and it’s one of those full body laughs. She’s not trying to cover her face or stifle it at all. Sometimes she gets self conscious about her laugh being too weird or too loud but she couldn’t give two fucks about that right now and I physically cant tear my eyes away from her.

I’m aware that Eijirou is talking to me, but I’m not hearing anything he’s saying. It’s not until Denki’s face pops up in my line of vision that I finally snap out of what ever fucking trance the temptress had put on me.

“Baku-bro you should really close your mouth before something flies in it.” Denki says with a goofy grin on his face.

“Yea well, you should close your mouth before I shove my fist in it dumbass.”

“Hey, leave him alone. He’s in love.” And Eiji bumps his shoulder up against me. “It’s super manly.”

“Do you idiots ever shut up and mind your business?” I shout because I hate being called out about her. I swear I’m trying my best to not follow her around like a lost puppy but all that does is have me tracking her around with me eyes like a goddamn stalker.

“Dude, no one is saying it’s a bad thing. She’s super hot. Sometimes you can’t help but stare at her.” Denki says with a smirk on his face. He’s goading me. “ but you know what’s better than staring… touching. I might just run over and give her a big old hu- woah dude. I’m kidding calm down.”

My hands grabbing the front of his shirt and I can feel the sparks about to start flying from my hand. Then I feel a soft hand on my forearm and the effect she has on me is immediate.

I cut my eyes over and catch her smiling at me and just like that the sparks stop because I’ll be damned if I ever do anything that might end up hurting her.

“Kats… what have we said about hurting our friends….. they may be stupid but that doesn’t give us a right to kick their asses right???” She’s speaking slowly like she’s trying to talk down a jumper.

“Yea Kats. Don’t beat up your friends.” Denki’s smug voice caused my hand with his shirt to clench a little tighter.

“Denki dude. You’ve gotta cut it out before he murders you.” Eiji says that like he’s trying to help but the asshole is also snickering.

Then the hand on my forearm slides up my arm, across my chest and ends up wrapping around my neck and that’s it. She’s got me.

“Come on bub. I’m hungry, let’s go get food. Leave the evil men to cause chaos amongst themselves.” Then she’s pulling me away and all I can do is follow.

I turn my head quick tho and shout, “watch your back dunts face. I still owe you an ass whoopin!”

“Yea yea lover boy.” And his friends chuckle behind him.

And that’s what i am now isn’t it? It’s what she’s turned me into. A man so deep in fucking love that all she had to do was say the word and I’d fall to my fucking knees for her.

This shit is so embarrassing🙄

Katsuki Masterlist

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[sp4ceboo]

Who's Afraid of Little Old Me?: Feyd-Rautha x Reader

A/N: ty taylor swift i attempted to base this fic on your song but then i divulged as normal

tw: 18+, smut, p in v, inkpie, oral (both recieving), sub feyd by which i mean feyd is DOMMED, spit, degradation + praise, one spank kinda, swearing, lil bit of crying, mention of evil baron activities so sa + pedophilia, tiny mention of cheating but none actually happens, lmk if there's anything else bc lbr there probably is i just forgot it

wc: 3.9k

Feyd-Rautha has gravely underestimated you.

It is true that you are not strong in terms of Harkonnen definitions, but you expected a man destined to father the Kwisatz Haderach to be able to see past that. What was that the Bene Gesserit were saying about superior genetics? You don’t see even a glimpse of that in his frosty gaze when he regards you - he looks at you as if you’re a delicate vase that may shatter in the lightest of breezes. He thinks he needs to fear breaking you.

He misses how you miss nothing.

You are not Bene Gesserit; you are merely one of their pawns, a genetic machination produced from centuries of manipulations and deceptions, but you can read a man better than the majority of their number.

The seething jealousy in the clenching off Glossu Rabban’s fists is like a monster sinking its venom laced fangs into his heart: starkly evident to you - as evident as the barely repressed, parasitic fear of inadequacy that lurks like a second beast within the first. Just the same, the gazes the Baron sends your husband do not escape you. Nor does the caged, wild look that washes over him whenever you leave his uncle’s chambers: the look of a man who inside is still a boy, relief washing over him that he has left unscathed and untouched for another time.

Even more nuanced than that, you see the vulnerability within Feyd-Rautha. He craves to be loved, the way he should have been as a child, when instead he was desired; all this at an age where the most he should have been doing was playing with carved wooden toys at his parent’s feet.

He believes no one can see the last, soft sliver of his heart that he’s fought to preserve, that wants nothing but to have someone to be vulnerable with, just because he’s buried it so deep inside of him that sometimes even he doesn’t think it’s there any more.

But you see it.

You see beneath it too, to a place that he himself is not fully aware of. A place where he hates who he has become - a wild, savage creature, bleeding from wounds that do not seem to close up, slipping in its own blood when no one can see.

It’s from here, from this place, that the urge to preserve you somehow originates. He thinks you are a flower whose petals will easily be crushed in his heavy, calloused hands, and he is wrong; in a strange way it endears you to him, that he believes that he is too rough to hold you. You do not think it is quite love - not yet, at least, it is only the third month of your marriage - but when you see him fighting to not be the beast that he is before you in an effort to spare you, something that is not just pity stirs in your heart.

You can hear him now, pacing, cursing under his breath in the antechambers. Sometimes he sleeps there, on the narrow sofa, and you’ve come to realise it is those nights when he wants you most. Aside from your wedding night, he has made no other attempts to produce an heir, and you find his restraint valiant, but stupid.

He could try as hard as he liked; he would not get anywhere close to breaking you.

Rising from your seat on the small, ornate stool at the vanity, you push open the door to the antechamber and take a step into the room. Feyd pauses his pacing with his back to you, and you can see the tension in his shoulders and the rigid way he holds his body before he turns around to face you. His pupils are dilated, his eyes dark, and you watch him regard you with something too untethered to be restraint.

‘Am I keeping you awake, wife?’

You shake your head. ‘I had not retired yet.’

You know he expects you to explain why you’ve interrupted him, but you remain quiet - your silence is as much of a tool as your words. He doesn’t speak either, but his eyes tell you enough; they do not leave your frame, hungry, torrid, and his fingers twitch as if they ache to slip you out of the simple shift you wear to sleep and touch you everywhere, to explore the curves and dips of your body.

Tilting your head, you smirk. ‘If you wish to give me your heirs, husband, I would advise another method that differs from staring one into me.’

‘You don’t know what I want,’ he growls, but his face tells other tales.

Stepping forward, you reach out to him but he backs away. Still, the sheer thirst in his eyes sears away at you, even as his actions fight against it, his fingers closing on the doorknob. His hands are steady, his shoulders too, but the tightness in his muscles betrays him as always. Usually, you’d let him go now, but tonight you wish to see how far he will let you push him before he pushes back, so you snare his forearm in your fingers, tugging at him as he turns the knob.

He doesn’t look at you. ‘Don’t test me.’

You smile, cloyingly so. ‘Why not?’

Lightly, you trace your fingers down his chest, straightening the fabric of his black shirt while you gaze thoughtfully up at him through your lashes, lips curving upwards at the indecision in his eyes. He fights it, wrestles with the burning need, but in the end, he prevails, transforming it into a streak of anger that colours his voice as he tears himself from your grasp, recoiling as if your touch ignites pain within him - and maybe it is pain, that he wants you so but fears to indulge himself.

‘Get away from me.’

Feyd-Rautha does not give you a second to do so, because he is the one haring down the dimly lit corridor, his jaw tight, nails digging into his palms. Truthfully, you have never seen him move that fast, not even in the arena, and it almost makes you laugh - the great na-Baron fleeing from his wife and his own lecherous thoughts.

Maybe you did not win this round of tug of war, but he has asked something of you - to get away from him. Over the next few weeks, you follow this to the letter, avoiding him like the plague; you do not interrupt his pacing in the antechambers, nor do you haunt the bedroom like you normally do, asking him questions that he cannot answer. Feyd-Rautha is sensitive to change and you know he will seek the reason for it.

There is a barely cloaked intensity in his eyes when he finally corners you, and under it, you detect recognition: he sees that you are not who he thought you were, and he sees that you are not so different from him - always observing, always planning, and so, mind shatteringly hungry.

You were just dropping by the bed chambers to gather some of your clothes. The night before, you’d relocated yourself to one of the guest bedrooms - you could sense Feyd’s resolve cracking, and you knew that this would break it for certain: coming into his chambers to find them empty, wifeless, your side of the bed damningly cold. Jealousy is clear in his eyes as he backs you against the vanity, filling you with a rising sense of triumph.

‘What has caused this change in your behaviour, wife?’

You raise a brow, faking confusion. ‘What change? I would argue it is your behaviour that has changed, Feyd, you who can barely stand to be in a room alone with me.’

He snarls. ‘Who were you with last night?’

‘I thought you wanted me to get away from you,’ you reply, keeping up your pretence a little longer. ‘I slept in the guest quarters. You do not reciprocate any of my advances.’

‘Advances?’ He echoes, incredulous. ‘You taunt me, wife. It’s like you want me to break you.’

Cocking your head, you regard him coolly for a moment, letting some of the sharpness of your unmasked gaze leak through, letting him see the calculation in your eyes - you see the wariness it incites in him as he realises again that you are not who he thinks you are. Wordless, you lean in close to him, bringing your face to his, hovering there.

And then you let your arm drop and make a swipe for the knife at his belt.

Fast as a viper, he catches your wrist in your fingers, but you smile, challenge in your eyes as you bring his second blade to his neck. You’d slipped it out while he was distracted with your other hand, and he blinks at the cold press of it to his skin.

‘That’s the problem, isn’t it?’ You murmur. ‘You’re not scared of me, you’re scared of breaking me. Who’s afraid of little old me, huh? No one is, Feyd.’

‘They should be,’ he whispers, and when you meet his gaze, it sets you alight.

‘Indeed,’ you reply softly, letting your lower lip brush his.

As he kisses you, his hands seizing your face and locking you to him, you hook his knife’s blade in the collar of his shirt and drag it down, slicing the fabric until it flutters to the floor. Pulling away, you take him in - the moonlight planes of his sculpted chest, the broadness of his shoulders, his roiling, keen gaze. This man whets your appetite in the darkest kinds of ways: you cannot wait to ruin him.

Absently, you trace the outline of the tent in his pants with the tip of the knife blade. A breathy noise leaves him, and he freezes as if he can feel the cold kiss of the metal against his skin; you laugh, delighted that he is so mouldable in your hands.

‘Get on your knees,’ you command, seating yourself on the end of the bed.

It’s captivating, his lack of hesitation as he follows your orders. He sits back on his heels, looking up at you, and you can tell that he’s letting you see him like this, you can tell that if he didn’t want you to have him like this, you wouldn’t, but still, you reach out, gently skimming his shoulder with your fingertips.

‘All you have to do is say, and I will stop,’ you say.

He dips his chin. ‘I do not think I’ll have to.’

You smirk, something savage and powerful and thrillingly depraved rearing its head inside you, awakened by the sight of the na-Baron kneeling at your feet. That will be his last coherent sentence tonight.

Pausing, making him wait, you lean down a little, inspecting his features, the ardour in his eyes. He looks at you as if you hold the universe in your hands, as if you hung the stars in his sky, as if you are a  goddess, and he wants nothing but to worship you until he is expended.

You spit on him.

It lands on his cheek, and his eyes widen a fraction. A shudder wracks his body, and he simply stares up at you, breathing heavy, before slowly, his lips part, and he sticks out his tongue, his request evident. You grab his jaw, squeezing so that he opens up wider, and spit in his mouth - the low groan that leaves him as he swallows is fucking delectable.

His cock twitches in his pants when you pick up the knife. Tracing the blade over the shell of his ear, over his cheekbone and over his lips, you marvel at the way he holds still, awaiting what you’ll inflict on him next like a good little toy.

When the metal reaches his jaw, you nick the skin, drinking up his sharp intake of breath and the clench of his fists as the blood trickles down the column of his throat; you catch the droplet of crimson on your tongue, licking a careful stripe up his neck, grinning when you catch his lips in a kiss and he trembles at the taste of his own blood. Feyd is greedy, his tongue brushing against yours as he leans up into your touch, the way his mouth works against yours hot, fervent, pleading.

Planting a palm to his sternum, you push him back, chuckling when he strains to follow you, eyes glazed, lips swollen. You spot a streak of red and swipe your thumb over his lower lip, wiping it off before standing.

‘Get up, strip, and get on the bed,’ you bid him, pulling your own shift over your head.

Feyd scrambles to follow your orders, yanking his pants down, and you take your time to admire his muscle sheathed body; strength ripples beneath his skin, a sweet dichotomy to his weeping cock, rock hard and flushed rosy. He halts his movements, as if he’s pinned down by your appraising gaze.

‘For whom do you wait, husband?’

As he turns to get onto the bed, he’s a little too slow and you swat at his ass. A choked sound leaves him, and you laugh at the way his knees almost buckle. Feyd’s ears run red when he lies down on the mattress, and you straddle his thighs, sneering at the way he twists his fingers in the sheets, squirming beneath you.

‘Pathetic.’

You don’t give him time to respond, instead wrapping your fingers around his cock and pumping up and down fast, and he gasps at your rough touch, his back arching and his hands coming up to touch you - you wave them off you, meeting his eyes.

‘No touching,’ you intone, the hint of warning in your voice enough to render him obedient.

This time, you take his cock head in your mouth. He’s so fucking sensitive, reacting as if the sweep of your thumb down the underside of him and the slide of your tongue over him is mind shattering; it doesn’t take you long to get him teetering at the edge of his orgasm, just for you to pull away at the last moment.

His thigh jolts, weak pleas of your name leaving his lips, gripping the sheets so hard you wonder if they’ll rip. Again, you take him in your mouth, deeper, one hand dipping to play with his balls; you revel in the wretched sound that he makes when you hollow your cheeks around him, your teeth grazing up his length. You toy with him until you think he’s moments from breaking, until he’s writhing upon the sheets, face contorted in pleasure loaded with sweet, sweet agony.

‘Please let me come,’ he whimpers, voice cracking, the look in his eyes crazed, pitiful. ‘Please.’

You decide to give it to him, jerking him brutally fast until he comes; it hits him like a tidal wave - his eyes roll back in his skull, his body tensing, rigid and impossibly taut before he goes boneless, a broken cry of your name on his lips as he spills all over his stomach. A single, ecstatic tear slides down his cheek as his orgasm seizes him, snatching him up and shaking him like a ragdoll.

Lingering at his side, you wait until he’s come down from his high before getting up to retrieve a damp cloth from the bathroom, perching on the bed beside him and cleaning up his come, pressing kisses to the surprisingly soft skin of his hips. One wavering hand comes to rest in your hair, and you glance up at him, biting back a smug grin at the dazed look in his eyes.

‘Feeling okay?’

He nods.

‘Words,’ you chide.

‘Y - yes, na-Baroness. Better than okay.’

You raise a brow at that. You did not specify for him to call  you anything, so this is all his doing; he fidgets beneath your gaze, and you note that he’s growing hard again, his cock stiffening between his thighs.

‘Can I…’ He begins, but trails off, thinking better of it.

‘No, little na-Baron,’ you reply coyly. ‘Tell me what you desire.’

His eyes scorch you with their yearning. ‘I want to taste you, na-Baroness.’

You smile. ‘As you wish.’

You lean back against the pillows, letting your legs fall open for him. It’s somewhat comical, the way his eyes widen as he sees your slick cunt, and he swallows harshly - you can almost sense his mouth watering. Carefully, reverently, almost, he nudges your knees over his wide shoulders, bringing his face close to your pussy, admiring you. It’s as if he’s testing himself, waiting to see how long it takes for him to break and taste you.

Lurching forward, Feyd groans, low and deep and right against your clit when he laps at your heat, quickly becoming insatiable as his tongue moves masterfully at the apex of your legs, laving over your clit and curving in and out of you. Bolts of pleasure spear through your body, fierce like crackling lightning at the eye of a storm - he is everything to you in this moment. He shatters you, breaking you and mending you anew.

As he brings you closer, your body begins to shake and your legs close around his head; you suffocate him with your thighs, and you can tell he lives for it from the way he fervently grips your ass in his large hands, kneading the flesh and moaning into your pussy.

Something pulls tight within you, deliciously so, and you cry his name in warning, fingers curling around the base of his neck to hold him still as your hips buck, rutting into his face. Dimly, you can see him grinding into the mattress as you fuck yourself on his tongue - the chafe of his nose against your clit makes you shatter, and you fall apart for him with a ragged cry, nails digging into his shoulders.

You’re still coming down from it when Feyd begins to lap at you again, dutifully cleaning you up, and you twitch with the slight overstimulation, hooking a finger under his chin to see his eyes: his gaze is loaded with the heat of a thousand suns, and yet somehow it is also bleary, drunk. A laugh escapes you, and you tug at his hand, encouraging him to lie beside you.

‘Good boy,’ you hum as he nuzzles into your touch. You can feel him achingly hard against your thigh, and you let yourself catch your breath before reaching down and wrapping your fingers around his cock. ‘Want to fuck me now, hm?’

He nods avidly. ‘Yes, na-Baroness.’

All it takes is for you to half spread your legs before he’s climbing eagerly between them, hesitating before looking up at you for permission. You dip your chin, smirking, and then he’s sinking into you, burying himself inside you.

Voice cracking, Feyd chokes out your name, and he shudders, gasping at the velvet vice of your cunt as it clenches, bearing down on him. Sharply, you rock your hips up to meet his, and this time, a soft, keening whine leaves him, and he squeezes his eyes shut, biting down hard on his lower lip.

He can barely keep himself from spilling inside you.

‘You can barely hold it, can’t you, my little na-Baron?’

His words come out jumbled, his speech scrambled, mind ground to a standstill by the all consuming heat of your cunt; he babbles out protests, saying that he can, desperate to prove he can, stammering that he wants to make you feel good.

Cruelly, you buck your hips up against his again, and a pained sound looses from his chest, but he thrusts to meet you, hips lurching forward, his arms almost buckling either side of your head. Panting, he pulls out slowly before slamming back in, unable to stifle the whimper that tears from the back of his throat when you rake your nails down his shoulder blades, claiming him, littering his shoulders and neck with bites.

‘That’s it,’ you sigh as he finds his pace. ‘Just like that, good boy.’

A strangled noise tears itself from him at your praise, and he fucks into you, frantic, almost feral. Eventually, his thrusts begin to turn sloppy, and you kiss him in order to steal his breath and taste his fervid moans of your name on your tongue as he comes deep inside you.

Pressing a palm to his lower back, you pin him there, buried snugly within your pussy as you reach down with your other hand and rub your clit hard - it takes but a moment for you to come, and he writhes at the cataclysmic feel of your walls fluttering around him, overstimulating him, his mouth falling open in a silent cry as he comes again with your cunt milking his cock.

Completely spent, Feyd goes limp, and you rub your hand over his back, smoothing circles on his skin with your lips to his forehead. The post orgasm clarity begins to hit him, and you feel him go rigid - slowly, he pulls out, his seed leaking out now that he’s not filling you, and he attempts to get up, but his legs are too weak and he collapses beside you instead, his chest heaving, his eyes still a little hazy, still fucked out, even as he fights for lucidity.

There’s something on his face that cuts at your heart - a look of expectancy, as if he’s waiting for you to get up and leave now that you’ve had your fill of him. Concerned, you reach out, and he leans away from your touch.

‘Feyd,’ you murmur. ‘It was not too much, was it?’

‘N - no,’ he replies. ‘I just…’

Sitting up slowly, you look him right in the eyes. He stares back, bewildered, but you press a finger to his lips, foregoing your own fumbling words to instead recite the pledge of allegiance of a Harkonnen soldier to their general; his eyes widen - you know you have hit home. You’d exchanged wedding vows, of course, but these have a different meaning: you see it in the respectful way it is uttered, a soldier acknowledging his superior’s presence.

You pledge to him not only your heart, but your sword - your service - too.

‘Wife,’ Feyd bites out. ‘Surely you do not mean - ’

‘I mean it,’ you cut in. ‘Every word.’

Again, you reach for him, and this time he does not flinch away, letting you tuck him close to you, his breath coming out shaky. Gently, you tip up his chin, planting a chaste kiss on his parted lips, and he returns it slowly, wondrously, no teeth or tongue, just the gentle brush of his mouth against yours: the innocence of it is bittersweet - has anyone ever kissed him this tenderly?

Carefully, you withdraw, wanting to see him, but he does not let you meet his eyes, instead hiding his face in your neck, his lips at the hollow of your throat. You grant him the privacy of not being seen when you feel wetness on your skin, his hot tears tracking down and pooling in your collarbone - his hands ball at his sides, and you pry open his fingers and lace yours with his, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. Tightly, you wrap your arms around him, holding him with a hand cupping the back of his head, cradling him to your chest.

Your voice is quiet in the still air, but it carries as if through an arena, a promise arcing through the air like a soaring arrow.

‘You no longer walk this world alone, Feyd-Rautha.’

best believe when i started writing this i did not anticipate the 2x 'good boy's 🧍

dune taglist: @callumsgirl @oh-you-mean-me @insufferablyunbearable

[blackbirdsblackberries]

"I hate the new hero" is such a brilliant fic idea! I absolutely devoured it. 

 

Especially if we throw in some angst into it. *evil laugh*

Like, what if the harassment was too much that it affected the reader’s other life?

What was at first a way for her to hide her superhero identity.. had now made her doubt her vigilante work?

 

I know the BatBoys won’t act as low to actually physically harass who they thought was a civilian student, no matter how much they hate it, but they’ll definitely make their life worse. Online harassment, endless accusations, fake rumours that caused the reader to be hated by the entire school. 

 

Until one day you had enough. As much as reader love Gotham, wanting to protect it. But you were only a student now.. a teenage with a future to strive for, a future Gotham Academy could no longer provide you. 

 

‘Are these people the ones I risk my life every night for..?’

‘What was the point..’

All kinds of self deprecating dark thoughts swirl inside the mind of the teenage girl. 

 

After some thought, you decided. 

 

“I’m leaving Gotham,” Aranea announces, sharp eyes looking down the streets of the city from the high rooftop. 

 

Red Robin almost lost his cool, a cold shudder went through him at the horrifying revelation. It was so sudden, why are you leaving? Leaving Gotham? Leaving them? Leaving him?

 

His brilliant mind moved at an almost inhuman speed, creating hundreds of possibilities for why you would come to that decision.

 

But he just doesn’t understand. “Why?” He finally let out, his voice so low he was worried you didn’t catch it. 

 

But you did. “I have my reasons.” You sigh, your brows furrowing in distress.

 

Oh, how Tim wished he could kiss your worries away. It kills him to see you so troubled.

 

“Why? Is something wrong?” He urged, his tone sounding desperate. “I swear if Red Hood did something—“

 

“No,” You shook your head, “Nothing’s wrong. At least not with you guys.”

 

“Then what is it?” He eyes you, trying to read you. “Is it your day life? Your life behind the mask?”

 

You didn’t answer, avoiding his gaze. You were too quiet, it was such a strange sight. Your eyes held a certain sadness, your smile gone. It’s killing him.  

 

Your silence gave him all the answers he needed. “Then tell me, tell me who you are. Let us help you.” He begs; he knows he’ll do anything you ask him to, and he knows his family would do the same. 

 

“You know we can’t do that.” You shook your head. 

 

Damn, this is getting too long. Haha.. I’ll stop. But yeah. It’s a brilliant idea. 

 

Imagine how crazy he’ll react if he knew that he was the cause of your worries. He was the one who hurt you. The angst will be delicious. 

STOP YOU'RE ACTUALLY READING MY MIND!!

Not to spoil too much but in future chapters Reader will start to doubt themselves and cracks will show.

Reader may also look elsewhere for places to save. After all, Gotham already has so many heroes, what's one gone?

But they can't let the optimistic sweetheart of a hero go now, can they? You know what they say, you can take the man out of the city but not the city out the man...

Who said that?! 😮‍💨

And for the third paragraph, I absolutely agree! They wouldn't stoop so low as to actually assault Reader. But that doesn't mean they can't misuse the power they have over Gotham (both in their vigilante life and real life).

Though if I were to say one name that I think would get slightly physical (passive aggressively) I would have to say Dick.

Dick is such an emotionally complex character. Damian has learnt from his past and knows better thanks to Bruce, Bruce wouldn't risk anything and would instead just verbally cause harm, Jason doesn't actually resort to violence a lot - he yells, he punches walls, etc but he has never actually hit someone without proper reason/justification, Tim is above violence while a civilian.

The way Dick would do it would be so casual though - a hug too tight, a handshake that "accidentally" breaks a finger, a hard "pat" on the back that makes you spit out whatever you're eating/drinking, small things that don't seem like much.

I also want to state that the Reader is very complex as well with how I write them. Their true personality is cautious, ambitious, kind, sarcastic, kinda cold and loyal but they either display one part too much or too little - kind, loyal and ambitious during hero work is up to 100 while cautious, sarcastic, cold is hidden at 30. Whereas while a civilian they show caution, coldness, sarcasm at 100 with loyalty, kindness and ambition down to 30-40.

I won't say much more though, again Reader is you guys so their "true" personality is up to you - this is just how they're perceived by people.