#since with duke hes more verbal

[haveihitanerve]

batman has trouble telling his family how he feels. So he decides he can write it down in a journal or leave them notes. It's easy to write down the words than say them because the words he wants to say always get lost in translation when he opens his mouth. Dickie when he was robin has a whole box filled with notes from Bruce. Turns out batman can be funny when he writes his thoughts down. Jason writes back to Bruce just as sassy.

i love this

With Dick, the first note appeared after the first fight. A nasty fight, where Dick had screamed

"YOU'RE NOT MY DAD, WHY DO YOU EVEN CARE, I DON'T HAVE TO LISTEN TO YOU!!!!"

Bruce had gone quiet after the words, and isolated himself away. Dick had felt crummy afterwards, but there wasn't much to do about it, Bruce wasn't around to apologize to and... well, it was true. The screams had just been... inner thoughts he hadn't voiced.

Bruce knew it too. And, it shouldn't have to be up to Dick to make amends. So he withdrew to his office, locked it tight, so that he wouldn't say words he'd regret and make things worse with Dick.

The first few drafts... were hard. But Bruce found his rhythm, and it was so much better. He could erase and start again, and reword, and clear up any parts that weren't clear. He could be concise, precise, honest and literate, he didn't have to stumble and rip his way through an uncomfortable conversation where he'd make things worse.

Dick found the note later that night, laying on his pillow, three pages worth of words that told him he was loved, whether or not he wanted Bruce to be his dad, he could just remain a friend, a brother if he wanted, and that he cared, even if it wasn't always shown, even if it wasn't as a father.

Bruce established boundaries, and apologized too, because it was needed, and it was so much easier to say what he needed to through written words, instead of admitting them aloud. Maybe it made him a coward, it made him a coward, but the next morning Dick hugged him and apologized back, so it worked.

The notes became frequent from then on, usually after fights, or misunderstandings, and Dick understood the need, knew that Bruce wasn't as able to concisely share his thoughts and formulate them as well on the spot aloud, so he let it happen, but soon they became more commonplace, left on chimneys on patrol for Dick to find, little love notes and encouraging words that Bruce became better at saying aloud too.

Dick kept each one, tucking them safely into his belt, and kept them in a box in his closet, one he had made at school with Bruce during a parent-child fun day, and pulled them out to read every so often, when things between them got hard.

The box moved with him, stuffed in the closet at Bludhaven, and postage was expensive, travel even more so, but Bruce still sent him letters, apologies Dick didn't open, notes taped to his window he tossed away (still into a pile he never threw out, but never read either).

When things got better, Dick would read the notes, but he never touched the letters from before, because for once he needed the words from Bruce's lips, and he had liked Bruce's stumbling, his faltering and chagrin, and did not want to read his well thought out, thorough one instead. He still kept the notes, of course.

With Barbara.... Bruce didn't have a claim to her. She wasn't his daughter. She wasn't looking for a father. She wasn't, quite honestly, even looking for a mentor. But she found one in him anyway, whether either of them liked it or not.

But Bruce still sent her notes. Little letters, facts, information, telling her through a note was easier than in person. Because then he could lay it all out, and maybe she'd see something he'd missed. Because she always did. She completed him, in a way none of the other did. In a way even Dick didn't. But, then again, they all completed him in different ways. Hers was just more noticeable.

After Joker... every day he wrote to her, flooding her phone with messages, her laptop with emails, her room with cards and flowers and notes.

And when she moved to the Clock Tower it didn't stop, maybe slowed a little, became smaller in quantity, but he always sent her something. Let her check over his work, proofread anything and everything. His fresh set of eyes.

She wrote back, sometimes. But she was more like Dick in that regard, choosing to answer his messages verbally rather than write back. She did have the perfect time to do it too, and she always had something to say.

Barbara never struggled with her words the way he did. And he appreciated it. Loved it, even. Even if it usually didn't mean anything good for him...

With Jason... Bruce hadn't done it, originally, because Jason was just so bright, and understood, and didn't need the words because he heard them because Bruce was better, all the mistakes he'd made with Dick cleaned up a bit.

But Jason needed the words, and he had such a spark, so Bruce began writing again, sliding notes under his son's door and leaving them taped around the house, or on patrol. And Jason, Jason wrote back.

Little witty notes, marked up Bruce letters with grammar corrections, book recommendations, questions about what they were eating for dinner, or little stories, scrawled in the margins of notebook paper, stuck to Bruce's cape, or on his pillow, or taped to his mirror.

Bruce still wrote the letters, left them in Jason's room, after his death. Red Hood never mentioned it, but after a trip to the manor to "haunt" them, he became a little less violent.

With Tim, Bruce was ashamed to admit, he just didn't care. He didn't care that Tim winced at his words, he didn't care if he was misunderstood, he didn't care if he neglected the boy.

And it hurt, Bruce knew it hurt him, but he just didn't care, couldn't bring himself to, not when Tim was so much like the boy he'd lost, not when Tim was so different.

But Tim started writing letters, originally just for himself, begging for affection, begging for his parents to love him, begging for Bruce to notice him. Then the notes got angry, rants, screaming, slashes across the page, pencil marks that tore paper and dug groves into the table.

He kept them all to himself, waded up in the corner of his room, but Bruce found them, found them all, and he hated himself, hated the Drakes, but he couldn't even fault them because he, oh he was much worse. (no he wasn't the Drakes owed Tim love and affection those were his parents and a child deserves that from his parents Bruce tech didn't owe him anything but shiii he was awful and-)

So Bruce started writing again, answering all of Tim's pleas, cataloging every single movement and jump and case and file and everything Tim had ever done right and congratulating him, giving him pride Bruce wasn't even sure he was allowed to give anymore, and he apologized, begged for forgiveness, for a chance to start over, because he was better now, Tim had made him better, and he wanted... he wanted to be better. For Tim.

In the end the note was twenty three pages long, and ended with the simple phrase, "I love you, you are my Robin, and I'm so sorry"

Tim was at school, so Bruce left it on his bed, and shut himself away in the cave until he got home. He always stopped by his room first, tidying everything up, because he was only a "guest" and all, before heading down to the cave.

Bruce waited for two hours. When Tim finally came into the cave, his eyes were red, tears still falling down his face.

"Oh Timmy," Bruce breathed. "I'm so so sorry." Tim walked to him, and collapsed in his arms.

And from then on, things were better. Not perfect, nothing to do with Bruce's personal life was perfect, but it was better. It was good. And Bruce started sending notes. Slowly, they turned from letters into emails, into texts and shared google docs. So Tim would have evidence in his favored form, of Bruce's love.

With Stephanie... things were different. She didn't live at the manor. She had a father, albeit a bad one, and Bruce didn't want to give her another one of those.

But he still left her notes, information, or clues, things that gave her autonomy for a bit, let her work still "alone" as Spoiler, but kept her connected to him. To Robin. And when she died...

Bruce gave every letter to Leslie. Not because he knew, exactly, but because he knew she was closer to Stephanie, and he couldn't have them at home. Couldn't look at them.

Leslie gave every one to Steph. Who read them. Sometimes. Enough times that when she came back, she wasn't as hard on Bruce. Enough times that she let him hug her. And came over for dinner. And never regretted being Robin. Enough times to admit she loved him too. And that he would never be her father. Because at his core, he was a good person, and Arthur Brown was not that.

With Cassandra, Bruce didn't write letters. Not only because Cass couldn't read, but because she could read him. And no words were necessary. For once, he could love someone in silence.

With Damian, words came easier, somehow. Maybe because Damian needed words, needed the commands to be spoken aloud, needed the reprimand or the praise. He needed the tone, couldn't weed it out of what Bruce had written like the others, needed the verbal confirmation or denial.

Bruce needed the words to. To tell his son it was alright to mess up, to make mistakes. He needed to words to reassure his son that harsh language was the extent of what he was going to get. That punishment wasn't physical in their world. In his home.

He wrote Damian letters too, of course, in the case his youngest might feel excluded, but usually only at special occasions, a card for his birthday, or a quick poem to brighten his day.

And words... words came easier now. After so many. It was easier to tell Damian what he needed, aloud as well as on paper. It was easier to speak, to not stumble over his words, to praise and apologize. A good thing too, because Damian needed it. And maybe... maybe Bruce did too.

[yuoimia]

I CAN’T SAY ANYTHING TO YOUR FACE!

summary: they think you’re too pretty for your own good, really.

characters: wriothesley & alhaitham

notes: gn! reader, lighthearted fluff n teasing, wc: 800.

wriothesley

Does he think he can trick you again?

It’s almost funny, you muse to yourself as he routinely leads you through the fortress’ weaving labyrinths, the delicate wafts of Fontaine’s finest decadents alongside the sweet, slightly floral mist of Earl Grey tea increasing in strength with every step, naturally forming a semblance of a smile before you quickly regained your composure with a disappointed slap to the forearm.

Focus, you reprimanded to yourself. Stop thinking about cakes.

“What’s got you scowling like that?” Wriothesley lifts a curious eyebrow, surveying your face as he lightly closes the door behind you. “Pick a seat; I bought some new cushions since you complained last time that they made your back sore.”

He enunciates the complained with an air as if dealing with a petulant toddler’s meaningless tantrum.

Wriothesley notices how you don’t take a seat.

“Thank you,” you answer, prodding the rounded corners of the flowing material. It’s your favorite color, your favorite fabric.

He gazes up expectantly from his seat, taking a small sip from his teacup, swallowing with analytical attentiveness. “You know, it’s considered impolite to just stand and stare.”

“Wriothesley,” you interpose, crossing your arms behind the chair in front of him, examining his presence with a contemplative look. “What are you getting at?”

You continue theatrically spurring points when met with only silence. “Private teatimes? Customised cushions? Sigewinne’s stickers of you on my clipboards?” You take a generous breath and step, zeroing in on him over the tiers of desserts and frothing drinks, arms encasing his frame over the table. “If I didn’t know better,” you slyly whispered into his unblinking eyes. “I’d assume that you like me.”

The tension was hazardously electrifying, eliciting a sense of exhilaration with the mere possibility of a confession concocting itself into reality.

Wriothesley lets out an animated mixture between a sigh and a chuckle, dropping his head into his hands, before raising his head once more.

“You’ll need to repeat a few points again,” he muttered, smiling to himself, sounding almost disappointed. “Preferably with your back turned to me.”

“Why?” You furrow your brows; each second spent with Duke brought you with an ever-growing list of concerning questions to answer.

“Seeing you that close was quite dangerous,” he replied breathlessly. “I’m surprised you’ve never been labeled guilty.”

alhaitham

Alhaitham was stubborn. Yes, he admits, he could be fairly hardheaded and temperamental, but in comparison to you? Well, he considers that a new territory entirely.

“Birds of a feather,” Kaveh had nonchalantly shrugged at Alhaitham’s situation, nearly trickling an onslaught of sarcastic enquiries about this and last month’s missing rental payments and his growing apprehension towards Kaveh’s financial management, but that, alas, would just prove his point further. Alhaitham would rather have three meals of soup a day than let his agitating roommate emerge victorious in a verbal debate.

Thoughts surrounding soups reminded him to check in if you really had gone to bed after dinner, as you had reluctantly agreed, though not spared a wry roll of your eyes when you thought he had turned away.

It was common knowledge that if a person was sick, they should take it easy, rest often, and avoid strenuous activity and demanding tasks. While you were eager to comply with doing practically nothing all day, when the pedestal of stars rose above the fallen west horizon, so did your desire to defy anything Alhaitham suggested. And this part he fully blames himself, although grudgingly, that it was arguably a hundred percent his fault ninety-nine percent of the time. The factors? This he’s comfortably justified to alleviate restless nights—decisions were almost always influenced by bias, no? It was human, and Alhaitham was nothing but a human with human cognition.

The deliberate turn of the door handle, languid and surprisingly unlocked (what sort of scheme could you be possibly planning now?) has Alhaitham nearly stumbling out suppressed laughter of incredulity.

“What are you doing? Didn’t you promise me you'd go to sleep?” he gapes, the expression bearing comparable similarity to a blown-up pufferfish, not that you’d tell him that.

“Watching a movie. Would you like to join?” you push over blankets and pat an empty spot next to you. “I’m about halfway done so far. I’ll warn you, the protagonist is absolutely insufferable sometimes.” You release a long, suffering sigh, rubbing your forehead as if the character’s choices were causing you great distress. “Honestly-“

Alhaitham sits himself on your bed, much closer than you anticipated, cocking his head at your rapidly stumbling words.

“You’re so stubborn,” Alhaitham scowls, gently wrapping your waist with the loosened blankets. His voice carries no trace of malice, rather weaved with soft fondness. “Come on, let me see this protagonist that is causing you so much grief.”

[fancyfade]

Objectively correct list on which Batfam members would swear

Bruce: no clue if he swears canonically or not outside of miller's all star b&r, but he should not. Look I am very opinionated on this. I do not think Bruce swears. Bruce values control over his own mind so much you know he would not want to do things that would make him look as if he is not in control of himself, even when he is not in control of himself. However, I do imagine that teenage bruce swore, as when Damian cusses Alfred out Alfred is like "Ah, memories" or something. Bruce was an angry teenager.

Damian: Canonically swears and would swear. him meeting the batfam by cussing out alfred is iconic i will not hear a word against it. he can be mean to people without swearing, too, of course. he just has a lot of tools in his arsenal.

babs: look, does Barbara canonically gamer-rage? Not really*. but she deserves it let her swear in anger when people are doing stupid stuff.

dick: I don't think dick is opposed to swearing on principal, but I don't think we have a lot of panels of him doing it in proportion to how long he has been in comics and not done it. I imagine it being more of in the "What the fuck" instances like when something weird or unexpected happens (and only when he's an adult or teenager, b/c as younger robin he was doing the 60s exclamations or whatever that everyone did)

stephanie brown: like dick I don't imagine her being opposed to swearing but I don't see her doing it a ton. I see her doing it more often in anger, since she's got quite a lot of anger locked up pre-Batgirl 2009 and possibly still in batgirl 2009

cass: cass isn't opposed to swearing, but given her propensity for mimicking the speech she sees around her in batgirl 2000, I don't think she'd do it a ton until she sees it on the videos she watches to figure out how 'normal people' talk. then she does do it, though I imagine it's less in anger and more just casually, since i headcanon that cass gets less verbal the more overwhelmed emotionally she is (which... IIRC is supported by canon? She stopped talking at some point in batgirl 2000 when she was on the outs with Bruce if I recall, it's been a bit since i did a read through)

duke: duke is another character I don't see as opposed to swearing, but I don't think he does it out loud on account of his mom clearly not liking it (at least he doesn't do it around his mom, or didn't back before she got joker-ified XD). he does in his internal monologue though sometimes

Tim: Tim canonically censors his own internal monologue IIRC in Robin 1993 you know he does not swear. possibly inspired by whatever cheesy 50s/60s exclamations his icon dick grayson made when he was robin.

*We do see her yelling and saying things she'd regret over comms, but also saying things you regret is like batfam 101 if you don't do it they kick you out.

[beefslipper]

Hello! sorry to bother you again. But this thought came to me at 2 am and I need to see your writing on it. How do you think hsr men show their affection? I know Dan Heng would be a man of service but Jing Yuan? Is he going to be like Dan Heng or more open about it? 🤔.

Anyways, I'll be there to eat up the masterpiece. Stay hydrated and Thank you! 💜

Don't apologize! :D

I'll try to do ALL the male characters, excluding MC and Duke Inferno. I thought about it but decided against it cuz AAAAAAAAAAAA. I'm going to cry like a baby if I forget any. Since there are 17 men (I think, I'm half asleep) I'm gonna number them in alphabetical order and just. Go with it.

Argenti

Argenti would do everything humanly possible for you. Whatever love language you're most comfortable with, he's doing that all for you and you only.

You like physical affection? Whenever you're okay with it, he's holding your hand, giving you kisses, doing whatever makes you feel best.

You like verbal affirmations? Bro isn't hesitating to never shut up about everything he loves about you (P.S., it's everything).

Gifts? Be prepared to get something from him every time you see each other. He's not gonna hold back at all for the person he loves most.

Arlan

Dude's 100% a cuddler. Spending hours with you is his way of showing he cares. He isn't just asking to cuddle to avoid his responsibilities, he willingly spends lots of time with you (and gets yelled at for doing that instead of doing what he needs to).

However, if you're alright with doing little tasks with him, he's bringing you with. You two often walk Peppy together or go to deal with anything that won't get you hurt. You could be like 20 times stronger than him and he'd refuse to 'let you risk getting hurt'. Lol.

Aventurine

You already know this peacock's buying you everything you want. That cute dress you saw in a shop window? All your's. A new pair of earrings that you don't really even need? Dawg you're getting that and like 50 other pairs. That one perfume everybody's talking about? He's buying the whole company for you.

However! Behind closed doors, he's all about physical affection. Whenever it's just the two of you, he's always clinging to you like a sloth.

Blade

No Gif for Bladie cuz Tumblr asked if I was suicidal LOL

Bladie would seem like he hates you in public. Like you killed his pet dog when he was 6 and has hated you ever since type stuff. But when you're alone, he LOVES physical affection. Mostly receiving it, but he's definitely sure to make you feel loved, too. Whenever he's not feeling too good, he sends you little gifts to show he cares since he's not good with his words.

In short, he'd be extremely dedicated to loving you if he didn't have such a negative relationship with love.

Boothill

He loves using his words because he comes up with the craziest affectionate names for you. Some that have your eyes popping out of your skull before you even have a chance to get blushy over 'em.

Besides that, it depends on what kinda person you are. Yapper? He's more than willing to sit there and listen to your voice. He'll try to pay attention but it's a 50/50. Listener? He's always got something weird or interesting to tell you.

Dan Heng

He likes physical stuff the most but to an extent. He refuses to do anything bigger than hand-holding and small, quick kisses while in public. He REALLY shows his love behind closed doors to make up for it.

However. If someone's bothering you in public, he's gonna unintentionally do that 'don't worry kitten, daddy's gonna protect you' thing. He'll be mean mugging the person while holding you because he hates seeing you so uncomfortable from random weirdos.

Dr. Ratio

BATHTUB GIF RATIO SCREAMS

As much as I hate 'tsunderes' from cringey 2020 stuff, Ratio's one of them. He'll call you the most offensive names you've ever heard as he makes you the most godly, perfect-tasting meal you've ever had.

Once the two of you have gotten close enough, he'd probably allow you in that stupid bath of his, but if you dare to try any NSFW stuff while he's reading, you're getting a thick-ass book to the head.

Gallagher

Words and physical affection. Yk that one image of the two blank characters swapping spit? That's you and him whenever you come up with some comeback to one of his teasing compliments.

Anyways, he'd always be holding you while in public. Anyone dares to express concern about it? Bro's throwing haymakers (reference).

Gepard

Geppieeee :D Although I wanna do Geppie, I've done some HCs on him on a different post (excuse for me to be lazy LOL)

Imbibitor Lunae

A plankton drooling and screaming yes gif came up when I searched his name sjfjkldsjf

IL would spoil you with gifts. He'd always be off doing his weird dragon shit, so he'd send gifts from where ever he was. You could get sea shells or flowers that somehow stay fresh for ever. You could even get hairpins or clothing.

He isn't big on physical affection only because I'm sure you'd be obsessed with touching his tail and 'horns'?. Whatever, he's not letting that happen lol.

Jing Yuan

Physical affection 100%. When he's cooped up indoors doing work, he brings you with him and has you sitting within arm's reach at all times. Or in his lap if you're especially clingy.

He'd try to be verbally affectionate, but he'd use a weird nickname once and forever be embarrassed by it so that's out the window.

Luka

Me rn omg the brain juices are running lower as this post goes on, I'm sure you can see the effort decreasing. My apologies for that.

Luka's probably physically affectionate and really wants that treatment from you, too. I can't imagine how sore he must be, bro punches robots and big-ass monsters all day.

I'm sure he'd also give you gifts and whatnot, but physical stuff > anything else.

Luocha

I feel like he'd switch constantly. Without warning. One day he's all happy and clingy and the next he's super distant but leaving you gifts like he's about to leave. He doesn't even have a real reason behind this other than he doesn't know which is easiest for him.

Misha

NAUR I GOT TRAUMATIZED BY THE GIFS SFLKJSKFJF :(

He'd be all about gifting. I only say this 'cuz of the little side stuff about him having a buncha candy and other little souvenirs. He'd definitely get you something if it reminded him of you.

Sampo

I couldn't help myself the gif was too tempting I'm sorry

He'd always be stealing random crap for you. He'd even use his beautiful persona to get you the more expensive things you want.

Besides that, I'm sure he uses lots of verbally affectionate words with you and makes sure you know how much he loves you. Even if he constantly dresses up as a beautiful woman to distract another man LMFAO.

Welt

Literally all of the above. There's nothing he wouldn't do for you. You need to be held? You're already in his lap. Craving anything? Bro's learning how to make it for you as we speak. Need to hear someone tell you that you're worth something? He's got a big-ass 36-page love letter for you already.

Yanqing

Physical 100%. He doesn't know how to use his words without turning into a blushing tomato. He'd rather hold you for hours on end than try to compliment you. He loves so much about you that he's physically incapable of coming up with a compliment.

BONUS BOYSSSSS

no more gifs omfg my computer gonna explode

Jiaoqiu

Gifts and verbal stuff definitely. He'd spoil you with your favorite food and would always compliment you to the point it seemed like he had endless compliments stored away for you alone.

However, you're getting thwacked with a spoon if you dare to try and touch his tail or ears. Cuddles and hugs are a-okay, but touching the sensitive parts? N O

Moze

He loves physical stuff... Ignoring his VA's crimes.

He'd probably spend a chunk of the day cuddling you and refusing to get out of bed. Whenever he's not cuddling you, he's making origami things of your favorite animals until you have an army of them, varying in size and color.

Screwllum

Definitely a gifter. He's always making new things to give to you. However, when he makes new inventions, he forces the MC to play with it to ensure it's absolutely safe before it gets into your hands (You're gonna find a way to break it and set everything on fire no matter what LOL)

Sunday

FINALLY THE LAST ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

He sends you expensive gifts, but before he really got to know you and what you want, he'd be sending some weird stuff. Like a cat killing a bird and leaving it on your porch for you or something.

Over time, he got better about his gift choices. He probably goes to Robin to beg for advice on what to get you next.

Holy breaking and entering Batman! That's a lotta yap. And gifs. Good lord the gifs. My computer's hardly alive. I'm hardly alive.

Well, despite the decrease in quality and effort over time, I hope you enjoyed the HCs!

Have a great day, evening, and/or night! :)

[lendeah]

The currents of destiny

Chapter 3: Guilt and remorse.

Summary: In his third vision, Astarion observes himself trapped in a relentless cycle of thirst, remorse, and yearning within the shadows, witnessing others moving forward while he goes back to familiar patterns of the past. Pairing: Astarion x Fem!Reader/Tav Word Count: 3.6k Tags: Heavy Angst, Psychological Trauma, Blood and Violence, Character Death, Psychological Torture (kind of), Emotional Manipulation, Verbal Abuse, but just chapter 2, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Happy Ending.

a/n: tysm to @tinystarfishgalaxy for helping me with this chapter <3

<- Previous chapter Next chapter ->

[AO3 Link]

Astarion wept, as his body shook uncontrollably. His thoughts and emotions were swirling, Tav's agonized screams still echoed in his mind, haunting him. And those staring, lifeless eyes... they would forever haunt his darkest dreams. He shuddered at the thought of what he could have become: a soulless monster who would have used and abused Tav without remorse. The weight of guilt and regret bore down on him like a heavy cloak, suffocating and unrelenting. He wanted to kill that version of himself, he wanted to erase him from existence.

He briefly believed they were returning to the vast emptiness of space. But before he could process that thought, he was being violently pulled once more. Then, everything went black.

Astarion's heart clenched with fear as he quickly realized that he was inhabiting another body, once again a different version of himself. His mind was still spinning from the previous vision, but he forced himself to calm down and focus on his current reality. None of this is real, he told himself, you can still change everything.

The first thing he noticed was the emptiness in his head, the silence. The lack of parasite buzzing over his senses. That explained why his limbs felt heavier and slower, without the surge of power he had grown used to. He was back to being a vampire spawn.

We won, then. We beat the Nether Brain.

He would have laughed, had he not noticed the feelings coursing his body: regret and a deep-seated remorse. It was a stark difference from the empty void of emotions that had possesed him while inside his Ascended body. This version... this future Astarion, was filled with nothing but guilt. And hunger, so deep it shook his frame to its core.

He looked around, taking in his surroundings. He was crouched against a damp stone wall, his body weakened and exhausted. The putrid stench of the city sewers filled his nostrils, adding to his misery.

His clothes, ragged and wet, were clinging uncomfortably to his body. Hells, he looked like a wild animal.

Disgusting.

Astarion's senses heightened as his body caught a whiff of fresh blood, human blood. His stomach growled and he could feel the thirst coursing through his veins, demanding to be sated. How long had it been since he last fed? Judging his estate, he estimated it had probably been weeks, if not a whole month.

He hadn't felt this feral in years. Since...

Since Cazador buried him alive for a year. Have I been starving myself?

His body forced itself to stand up, legs shaky and weak from lack of nourishment. He stumbled through the dark corridors of the sewers, following the scent of fresh blood like a predator on the hunt. The sound of voices echoed off the walls, growing louder as he neared his destination. He froze at the end of the tunnel, straining to make out their words.

"There's another body. How many innocent civilians have to disappear before someone takes action?" A woman's voice said.

"I know. We're doing our best to find those damned bloodsuckers. But the Dukes seem to have other priorities at the moment." Another male voice responded wearily.

Astarion's heart sank as he realized what they were talking about. Shit, the spawn. They are in the sewers too.

From behind the corner, he could see two Fists standing outside. Their weapons of choice were stakes and swords, a comical sight if he wasn't in so much pain.

He crouched down, trying to gather his strength and formulate a plan. But before he could process everything that was happening, his body was wracked with searing agony. His vision blurred as he fell to the ground, clutching at his stomach.

Then, everything was a blur.

His body launched itself at the unsuspecting guards. The sudden attack threw them off guard, their shocked cries echoing through the darkness.

What are you doing? Stop, you bastard!

Astarion willed his new body to halt, but it paid him no mind. With ruthless precision, he sank his fangs into one of the guards' necks, and tore the soft skin in seconds, hot blood pouring all over him. The other guard scrambled for his weapon but Astarion was too fast, too desperate. He struck again. However, the guard managed to slide the sword out in the process and lunged forward. Astarion barely managed to dodge it, the blade grazing his arm instead of piercing through his heart. The pain shot through him like lightning but did little to deter him.

He buried his fangs in the man's neck, relishing in the warm rush of blood as it filled his mouth and quenched his hunger. The guard struggled against him, but Astarion was far too strong in his primal state.

It wasn't until both guards lay lifeless at his feet that Astarion snapped out of his bloodlust-induced haze.

The silence was deafening. He released the limp body from his grasp, letting it slump onto the cold stone floor. The hunger had subsided for now, and he was left with a chilling emptiness; a void that echoed with his victims’ last moments.

He felt…dirty. Disgusted with himself and the monstrous actions he was forced to commit while under the control of this abhorrent future self once again.

The future version of Astarion sat in a corner of the room, his back against the unforgiving stone wall. He crouched over the blood-soaked floor, holding his knees tightly to his chest.

A bitter laugh escaped his body. "Look at what you've become," he muttered, "A monster...a butcher." His voice was barely a whisper, drowned out by the steady drip, drip, drip of the sewer pipes.

Oh, hush, Astarion supplied inside his brain, you are just trying to survive.

Survival was indeed his main priority now. With no friends or allies, Astarion had to do whatever it took to stay alive. And if that meant giving into his vampiric instincts and becoming a ruthless killer, then so be it.

But even as he tried to justify his actions to himself, guilt gnawed at him from within. One thought kept resurfacing in his mind - Tav. The one who had shown him kindness when all others saw him as nothing more than a tool to be used.

How could he face her after what he had done? Would she still see him as someone worthy of forgiveness or would she turn away in disgust?

How did you even get to this point? he asked himself.

Astarion's future self felt a strong urge to chase after her and make amends, begging for her forgiveness and asking her to take him back. But his pride wouldn't allow such a display of vulnerability. Instead, this version of himself reveled in the anger he felt towards her for not helping him complete the ritual. After all, it was her fault this had happened. If only he had ascended, he wouldn't have resorted to killing innocent people now.

No, he told himself, you would be killing her, you idiot.

But as always, he didn't listen. Didn't know.

As his eyesight blurred and shifted, Astarion found himself in another scene. It was late at night, and he was slowly making his way to the Elfsong tavern. Astarion felt a sense of unease, concerned that future him might harm his companions. But then it became clear: he was there to beg for forgiveness at last.

He watched for a moment as his body hesitated at the entrance of the inn. From within, he could hear the sound of laughter and music spilling out into the night. Through the dimly lit window, he saw his companions seated around their usual table, their faces glowing with warmth and camaraderie. There was Wyll, spinning tales of his latest exploits while Shadowheart listened with feigned indifference. His heart ached as he saw Tav, alive and well, her eyes sparkling as she shared a story with Lae'zel and Gale, her laughter more enchanting than any song sung in this tavern.

His heart swelled at the sight of her, revealing on seeing her unharmed, happy. If he had been in his own body, he would have cried of relief. For a moment, he allowed himself to imagine what it would be like to hold her in his arms again, to feel the warmth of her embrace. What he would give to feel it right now.

But instead, he felt future Astarion's heart sink. A sense of longing for the life he could have had if he had chosen a different path. He could have been sitting with them, laughing and sharing stories instead of being haunted by guilt and regret, like a wild animal, resorting to living in the sewers to escape the sunlight.

The weight of his shame was too much to bear, and he couldn't bring himself to ask for their forgiveness. He convinced himself that they were better off without him anyway. As tears threatened to spill from his eyes, he glanced one last time at the scene before turning away from the window. He didn't want them to witness his broken state - humiliated, reduced to a mere shadow of his former self.

And a part of him, real him, thought it was true. They seemed so happy without him, like he had never been there to begin with.

Do they even miss me?

His consciousness was pulled away once again. When he came to his senses, he found his body standing pressed against the cold stone wall of an abandoned alley. He took in his surroundings, trying to make sense of this new place. Through his future self's eyes, he sensed he was scanning the darkened streets for potential victims. His gaze lingered on a handsome young merchant, who despite his drunken state, still exuded a certain innocence. His body stepped out from the shadow, a charming smile already playing on his lips. The image was too familiar, and for a brief moment, he wondered if he had somehow traveled back in time instead of forward into the future.

The merchant's eyes, predictably, lit up at the sight of him.

"Well well, what do we have here? A handsome stranger wandering about all on his own?" he purred, trailing his finger down the man's arm. "My dear sir, it's far past bedtime for such daring adventure on your own."

The merchant blushed and stuttered something about getting lost. Astarion chuckled softly and offered to escort him back to his lodgings - an offer the man happily accepted.

His real self could only watch everything in disgust and shame; he had reverted back to his old ways. And this time, he wasn't even under the influence of his master.

Guiding him down an even narrower alleyway, Astarion couldn’t help but curse himself inwardly for what he knew he was about to do. Astarion wished he could look away as he saw his body lean in close, his voice a smooth whisper in the man's ear. He could see his blush and giggle, taken in by Astarion's false charm.

Oh, how he wished he could warn him of what was to come. But all he could do was watch on helplessly as his body continued this dreadful performance he had practiced so many times before.

I am back to being a puppet.

"Astarion?"

His body stiffened at the sound of his name, and he turned to face the voice.

"Tav," his body breathed her name. Their eyes locked, and for the first time in a year, he felt something other than the hunger that had become his constant companion. A sly smirk danced across his lips as he effortlessly masked his true emotions. "Well, well, what brings you to this enchanting alleyway?"

"I could ask you the same," Tav replied, her voice filled with a mixture of concern and shock. She glanced at the merchant standing next to him, stumbling in his drunken stupor. Her eyes filled with sadness as she took in the scene.

There was a tense silence as they stared one another down. Astarion swallowed hard, racking his brain for an excuse that would believably explain his current situation. Before he could come up with a response, Tav spoke again.

"Astarion," Tav uttered again, her voice trembling slightly. "Are you... are you okay?"

No, I am not.

"Of course, darling," he replied smoothly, flashing her a charming smile. "Just enjoying a late-night stroll with this... gentleman." He gestured towards the drunk merchant, who was now leaning heavily on Astarion for support.

Astarion's heart, however, constricted at the concern in her voice. He desperately wanted to tell her the truth, to hold her close, to kiss her breathless.

Do it, tell her. Kiss her. Save yourself.

"Are you sure you're okay, Astarion? You... you can tell me," Tav asked once again, her voice tinged with worry as her eyes flickered between them, clearly not buying his explanation. Astarion could feel her searching gaze boring into him, trying to read him like an open book.

Just as he was about to confess everything, Shadowheart appeared behind her, sliding a hand around her waist.

What?

"Love, what are you doing in an alleyway? You are asking to get murd-" her eyes suddenly locked on Future Astarion. Recognition and shock flashed across her face before it hardened into a scowl.

"Shadowheart," Astarion acknowledged her presence coldly. His gaze was caught on the way Shadowheart's fingers rested possessively on her waist; a sight he found increasingly difficult to stomach.

What is the meaning of this?

For once, Astarion felt the same way as his future self; confusion and hurt mingled with betrayal and anger. Shadowheart and Tav... together? When did that happen?

Tav turned around to look at Shadowheart, a soft blush spreading across her cheeks. "I was just..." she began nervously, gesturing towards Astarion and the merchant. "I saw..."

"Astarion." Shadowheart's voice interrupted, cold as ever. Her grey eyes looked past him to the merchant who was almost passed out at this point. "You have poor taste in company these days."

Despite the icy edge to her voice, Astarion could make out a hint of worry in her eyes as she looked at Tav. It was a concern that echoed his own, one that served only to intensify the bitter taste of jealousy creeping up his throat.

"Perhaps," Astarion finally replied, his voice filled with false cheerfulness."But at least he knows how to appreciate a good drink." He then mumbled, "Anyway, I should probably take him home," gesturing towards the unconscious man.

As he started to walk away, Tav weakly protested and broke free from Shadowheart's grasp to approach Astarion. "Hold on!" Tav interjected, still unsteady on his feet. "You still haven't answered my question."

A tense quiet settled over them as they locked gazes once more. Astarion could see the mix of emotions in her eyes - confusion, pain, and yet a glimmer of hope. His other self didn't understand, but he did. He saw right through her.

She wanted him to ask for help, because that would mean he was ready to rejoin their group. She needed to help him. To redeem herself and close the wound he had opened a year ago.

He desperately yearned to do it, to return to his friends, to her. Instead, his body betrayed him and spoke on his behalf, "I assure you, Tav," he declared with stiffness in his voice, fighting to keep his emotions in check. "I am doing perfectly well without you."

Like hell you are!

Tav's face fell at his words, her eyes widening in shock and hurt. But before she could respond, Shadowheart spoke up again, her tone sharp and accusatory. "Oh yes, Astarion. You are the very definition of perfectly well." She directed a pointed look to the boy, who was sobering up and looking utterly confused, "You should go home," she said firmly.

The boy stumbled away, casting a final bewildered look at Astarion before disappearing into the darkness. Astarion watched the boy leave and turned his gaze back to Tav. He could see the disappointment in her eyes, but he couldn't explain or apologize, trapped as he was inside his own mistakes.

Tav hesitated for a moment before talking again

"Why didn't you return? We could have searched for a solution together."

Astarion's heart was heavy with the pain in Tav's voice. However, watching them together, watching how they had moved on without him, was stirring up a sick and ugly sensation within his chest. He could feel the longing consuming him, but his future self chose to focus only on the anger instead. Focus on the pride.

"Yeah, looks like you all missed me so much." Astarion quipped bitterly, glancing between Tav and Shadowheart.

Tav flinched like she had been hit. Astarion wanted to hit himself for it.

"Astarion, we didn't mean to hurt you, I-"

"That's not what it looks like. In fact, it seems like you both have moved on quite easily without me."

"Enough, Astarion," Shadowheart snapped, her patience clearly at its end. "Stop playing the victim. You disappeared without a word. What did you expect us to do? Wait for you forever?"

Yes. Maybe.

Tav's words were softer, her face etched with worry and regret. "You could have come to us... we would have helped you..."

Astarion scoffed. "Like hell you would." His tone was bitter, but he couldn't bring himself to meet their eyes. "You were the reason I left in the first place. Your betrayal."

His body had expected to feel relief upon seeing them again... but all he felt now was an overwhelming sense of loss. The sight of Tav and Shadowheart together brought a reality crashing down on him – they had moved on and he was stuck in the past. In the same toxic cycle from his time with Cazador.

There was another tense silence between them as they stood there in the dark alleyway. Astarion could feel their gazes burning into him, but he couldn't bring himself to meet their eyes again.

Shadowheart spoke up again. "What are you going to do now?"

Astarion shrugged casually. "Who knows? Maybe I'll just find someone else who actually keeps their promises," he said with a tone of bitterness.

But that was far from the truth. He felt completely isolated and alone, with no one to turn to for comfort or support.

Tav glanced at him once more, her head shaking as tears streamed down her cheeks.

"I'm so sorry," she said brokenly.

No, I'm the one who is sorry.

The need to reach out was overwhelming. But he could just watch in despair as his body decided to keep quiet, and observe as she silently turned around and left.

Shadowheart, however, stayed put, looking at him dead in the eye.

"I thought you'd come back for her, you know?"

I almost did, he told himself, I almost did, but I am a coward.

"You know, I thought you of all people would understand why I left. How could I stay after she ripped me off my only opportunity at freedom?" Astarion responded, finally meeting Shadowheart's gaze.

He expected anger, but was instead met with deep sorrow.

"When you left, something in Tav... it broke. She cried for you, night after night. For months, Astarion."

Of course, he knew. He had seen the scene at the Elfsong Tavern. However, this version of him hadn't.

He scoffed in an attempt to hide his pain, but Shadowheart continued relentlessly.

"She suffered so much because of your selfishness," Shadowheart said, her voice barely a whisper. "I... I had to pick up the pieces, Astarion. I had to convince her not to... not to lose herself."

Astarion felt a wave of guilt wash over him as Shadowheart's words hit him like a physical blow.

"I'm sorry," was all he could manage to say, his voice breaking with emotion.

Shadowheart's expression softened for a moment before hardening again. "Sorry doesn't fix what you've done. What you said," she replied, her tone biting.

"I know," he mumbled quietly, feeling the weight of his mistakes crashing down on him.

They stood there in silence for a few moments longer before Astarion spoke again. "She's hard not to fall in love with, isn't she?"

Shadowheart's eyes opened in surprise, and the softened slightly.

"Yes. Yes, she is," she replied under her breath.

Astarion shook his head.

"Is she happy?" he asked, unable to help himself.

Shadowheart sighed. "She’s getting there," she admitted quietly. "But she won’t be if you drag her back into your mess now."

And he knew what that meant. Let her go. She is happier without you.

Astarion hung his head, feeling a familiar pain bloom in his chest. He was quiet for a long moment before finally looking back up at Shadowheart.

"I won't," he promised, swallowing hard around the lump in his throat.

Shadowheart’s gaze bore into him for another moment before she nodded, and finally turned to leave.

"And Astarion?" she called over her shoulder, causing him to look up at her again.

"Hmm?"

"I hope you find your happiness too. You deserve it."

And with that, she walked away, leaving him alone with his thoughts. Astarion watched as she sauntered towards Tav, who was standing a little ways off. He could barely make out the details of her face from where he was standing but even from the distance, he could tell she was beautiful – more beautiful than he remembered.

Shadowheart gently approached Tav, her hand resting on her arm before leaning in for a tender kiss. Astarion couldn't help but feel like an outsider, witnessing this intimate moment between the two. As he watched them, he noticed the way Tav gazed at Shadowheart with such adoration and love - the same way she used to look at him.

He watched their retreating figures until they disappeared into the night. And his heart threatened to break into smaller pieces at the thought that this had probably been their last conversation.

In a flash, Astarion was once again standing in the void, surrounded by darkness. He felt a sense of unease wash over him as he waited for G'axir's voice to come through again.

See now... Astarion? G'axir's voice echoed around him.

See what? All I see are stars. Astarion asked, feeling frustrated at the cryptic messages.

Amidst the shroud of remorse and longing... lies the opportunity to redefine. Hope's whisper still lingers... in a realm unseen.

Tag list: @tinystarfishgalaxy, @imaginarypetlizard, @nanamisfriedstick, @stuckinaoaktree, @madislayyy, @cosywinterevenings, @fandom-garbage, @generalstephkenobi

a/n: I kind of hate G'axir. If I was Astarion I would be throwing hands, ngl. Anyway, hope you enjoyed the last angsty chapter! Thanks for the support! And lmk if you want to be added to the taglist☺️✨

<- Previous chapter Next chapter ->

[batfambrainrotbeloved]

Do you have any headcanons from your current fics (Mama Bird or Spoiled Brat) that you want to add into that fic but you can't figure out how to mention within a chapter? (without spoilers, of course)

YES! Also apologies for delayed awnsering I genuienly said to myself "God so many-" and didnt have the brainpower to sort through them all.

Heres a little list though (Some of these have been heavily implied but not yet/if at all driven into)

SB! Tim picked "Cardinal" both for the symbolism (devotion and tales of dead family members visiting via the bird) but also based on the Cardinal flower, native to NJ and one of Alfreds fav to grow.

MB! Barbara struggles with bounderies since she was constantly shown they could be broken at a moments notice "for teh greater good" or "for the job"

SB! Jason goes to college part time and is working towards an English PhD w/ a minor in Theater

SB! Cass accidently goes non verbal at times and prefers using sign language at times. BUT she does try to push herself to speak since its proof of how far shes come.

MB! Damian loves video games and begs Duke to take him to the store at least once a week (Duke likes the comic books)

SB! Dick learned to become an EMT after Jasons incident (its what helped him qualify as a firefighter EMT)

MB! Tim struggles with emotional outbursts where his emotions come out in "bursts" he learned to supress- until of course he reaches a point and needs to cool off lest he accidently snaps out.

MB! Duke doesnt always feel like part of the family and in turn pushing issues aside as "not his place" only further distancing himself (except for Damian, they are VERY close)

ALL of SB! Batfam have attended therapy, some just decided it didnt work for them or go more than others. Dick enjoys talk therapy, Jason and Damian prefer talking to the therapist to air their issues instead of addressing someone directly and Bruce enjoys it helps him see past his assumptions to other perspectives.

MB! Jason stress bakes. But he also just enjoys baking in general, its methodic and comforting to see the results of his work like that.

SB! Steph is a "regular" at like 30 different places for random reasons because she likes going to walk around to clear her head

These are just a few but I have TONS more- but ill be touching on a lot of them in future chapters!!

[thelibrarian1895]

Batfamily supporting one another's hobbies: Cassandra edition

Cassandra canonically and in my heart loves to dance, any sort of dance but ballet specifically, it makes her feel graceful and beautiful and while she knows that any ballet dancer has a kick like a mule, and her family knows that she's one of the best martial artists in the world, she likes that people perceive ballerina, and therefore her, as delicate and dainty. She's never been considered delicate or dainty before and it both pleases and amuses her.

Bruce makes the time to go with Cassandra as she investigates the various ballet schools and companies associated with Gotham to see which one of them fits her wants and needs. When she finds the one she likes best, Bruce becomes the school's anonymous sponsor. It it extremely anonymous since Cassandra, who enters the school under the name of Cassandra Drake, wants to earn any role she might play because of her skill rather than because she's a Wayne. Bruce also has flowers for Cassandra after her every performance. Who presents her with the flowers is determined by a competition almost as cutthroat as the competition for Alfred's cookies.

Tim learns enough ballet to dance with Cassandra, specifically to do lifts for her and other assistant dancer sort of things, helping her shine as the prima ballerina she is and getting the chance to have quality time with his sister/favorite sibling. He doesn't have the time to be part of any productions but he's very popular in the dance classes since his presence gives more people the chance to practice the lifts and assisted spins. He's also a translator for those days when Cassandra doesn't/can't verbally speak and just signs instead.

Dick would have learned to assist her with lifts and spins and such but he's very busy and pulled twenty different directions by twenty different people at any given time. Instead he designs costumes for Cassandra and her performances. While Dick's fashion sense for vigilante costumes is bonkers and impractical, his sense of style for performance costumes is absolutely on point and Cassandra's troupe becomes well known for both their skill and their amazing costumes.

Jason didn't think about it and now won't because he doesn't want to be seen as copying the Replacement, he might start teaching himself to play the piano to accompany the two of them as their musician for a private family performance, if they want

Damian is currently too short to be good at lifts and even if he had thought of it he, like Jason, doesn't want anyone to think he's copying Tim. He will, however, paint a portrait of Cassandra as Odette, her first lead role. Damian also occasionally hangs out at the dance school to sketch the ballerinas after he's done with his own schooling for the day. He will ignore anyone who isn't Cassandra who attempts to talk to him. However, in one instance, when an interloper attempted to harass one of the ballerinas, Damian interceded, broke the man's arm, and ensured security removed and banned the man from the premises. The ballerinas consider Damian their adorable little guardian. Damian just scoffs and insists he was only doing it because he didn't want Cassandra to have to deal with any subpar replacements.

Duke is currently trying to catch up in normal bat skills and doesn't quite have the time to add ballet to his plate though he's at every performance and cheers the loudest. He absolutely cheats the most to be the one to present flowers to Cassandra most often out of the family and is the one who can give her verbal praise for her dancing instead of just grunting like a certain others in the family.

Stephanie is a terrible dancer. She owns it and laughs at it but she would not be able to be part of any ballet or assist in ballet practice to save her life. She also doesn't really want to dance ballet. Instead Stephanie helps Cassandra break in her toe shoes, is at every performance, does her best to cheer louder than Duke, and will go with Cassandra to see other ballet performances.

Alfred also ensures that Cassandra and her ballet friends have appropriate snacks and stay hydrated. He's very proud of her for developing civilian friends.

[litnerdwrites]

I want to talk about the Valkyries

So, I love the Valkyries. Their friendship is everything, and frankly, the best part of the series. However, I've never really liked the idea of them being warriors, and I want to hear some thoughts and opinions on that.

It all comes down to this single sentence; “"There are many types of strength beyond the ability to wield a blade and end lives. Amren told me that yesterday."”

To me, Nesta's strength lies in her other skills and abilities. She was raised to marry a Prince, so there's no doubt she's far more educated than most in her station. She proved that she has a good head on her shoulders and heart in her chest when she calculated the cost of evacuating humans from the mortal lands bellow Prythian, which goes beyond the number of ships, mind you.

She'd have to calculate the cost of the ship, the sailors to man them, the cost of security to protect the refugees in case the ships are attacked, which would mean the cost of weapons made of ash (which we know is rare since the fae burned many of the ash trees long ago), the provisions of sailors, provisions for guards, provisions for refugees, medicine for those who are sick or elderly, the time it would take to sail from the continent, load up the ships, and then sail back, etc. It's not easy, and there are a lot of factors to take into consideration, but Nesta did it and presented it to The Mortal Queens, who might have executed them for siding with the fae or even just speaking back to them, with not a single ounce of fear.

Nesta endured her mother's abuse, and didn't let it make her resent Feyre and Elain, instead, fuelling her desire to protect Elain and allow them both to find happiness in their marriages, something which we can presume is rare based on the little information and context we have for the human lands, despite it not necessarily furthering her family, while not bothering to do so for herself.

Nesta won the heart of a duke before even stepping onto the dance floor, had Eris dancing in the palm of her hand, arguably before dancing with him, and her idea to distract The King of Hybern, when Rhys didn't consider it until she brought it up. Nesta united the High Lords. Not Feyre. Not the IC. Nesta. After witnessing her father's death, and having all her trauma come crashing down on her, attended a meeting with strangers, both humans and fae, at her sister's behest, then kept herself together long enough to make it back to Velaris and to her room.

Feyre takes strength and inspiration from Nesta and her steely resolve, in times like The HL meeting.

Within a single year, she forced herself to overcome her fear of bathtubs, alone, while enduring the criticism and verbal abuse of the IC. She endured that nightmare Solstice, dinner parties and other events with them watching her like a circus performer. She endured her so-called mates' abuse and the abuse he allowed his family to show her, leaving her completely alone. Nesta didn't throw herself into the river or try to commit suicide, as far as we know, during this time, and gave everything to keep her head above water.

Let nobody tell you that Nesta Archeron isn't a strong ass woman.

I think this is why her becoming a warrior bothers me. Her courtier and dancing skills are shown to help her thrive in a place like the CON, a place the IC hates and the narrative paints as being full of scheming, evil, deserve to rot in hell, asshole fae nobles. This is a disservice to Nesta's immense talents and skill in navigating these situations. to be exploited, and painted as something that is synonymous with the 'evil' of The CON.

Also, I think that certain parts of the CON's culture is similar to human culture, in some ways. Between that and Nesta telling Bryce about how she's okay with being fae because of immortality, I think SJM is doing a disservice to humanity and it's culture. Nesta's insistence on holding on to her humanity when she points out things like how Solstice isn't a human holiday, or how fae have regard for human custom or manners (twice), and even her modest style of dress is something I love about her character.

I hate how it feels like, that for all Feyre claims both the human and fae lands are her home, she's disregarding her human culture, and Nesta is being forced to as well. Assimilating into fae society doesn't mean that she has to abandon her culture, and I think it would've been great to see more human cultures and customs, even if they didn't have holiday's or religions, being integrated into the IC. Meanwhile, Feyre's only response is to try it, because she might like it, which I think is also incredibly insensitive. Feyre and the IC have essentially indoctrinated Nesta, and wiped her human values and traditions from her life.

Her so-called mate was also the one trying to make her train since ACOWAR, without regard for human customs and how much she values them. It's like none of them care for their human heritage, and want to abandon that piece of her all together. For all he claims to love her and her fire, he doesn't care for where it came from, and who she was before he moulded her into his version of a perfect mate.

Amren is the one who told Nesta that she doesn't have to be a warrior, and that's based on the strength Nesta displayed as part of her human upbringing, implying that, even then, she is strong without the ability to end lives. Yet, she's also one of the strongest advocates for Nesta being forced to train.

If exercise of some kind is what they think she needs, why not dance? Elain is aware of how much Nesta enjoys it, and given her repeated protests about being around Cassian, why not get her a dance teacher, outside the IC, and have her learn dances from different courts or places on the continent? It's something she enjoys, and gives her a chance to learn more about the world out there, while developing many of the skills she's been trained with since birth.

I don't want to hear anything about Nesta 'choosing' to be a warrior. She merely accepted her fate, knowing it was that, or certain death.

Honestly, I think I might have been more okay with the warrior thing, if she wasn't consistently exploited by the IC. Or if I wasn't convinced that Rhysand would treat the Valkyries as an extension of his military.

Speaking of the Valkyries as a whole, I think they have so much potential that's being wasted.

Why must they be warriors? Why not a group of healers, and diplomats, and dancers and explorers, and scientists? Why not have them as a way for Nesta to fulfil her own dream of seeing the world

I've made my stance on Rhysand's so-called attempt at equality in Illyria very clear in this post (where I talk about why Cassian would be the worst father ever), but the gist of it is that throwing women swords, and forcing them to be soldiers isn't equality. Giving them the same opportunities and education to chose to be a warrior, librarian, baker, blacksmith, teacher, merchant or whatever is the start of equality.

That's not to say that they can't be warriors too. It just irks me that it's all they are. That's not to say I dislike all fmcs who become warriors, though I do think that there's an overabundance of them. Why must being a warrior be what defines The Valkyries. I don't see how that makes them different to another military unit, even though Nesta is likely to be the only one expected to act like a real soldier.

The narrative makes Nesta a warrior with her other skills and passions being just a smaller part of her character. I think it should be the other way around. I think she, and The Valkyries, deserve to be more than warriors.

I feel like Emerie would be the only one who'd want to be a full time warrior out of the main three Valkyries. Even then, it's mostly due to how ingrained it is to Illyrian culture.

The concept of Nesta helping the Priestesses heal is perfect for her character, based on what we've seen her do for civilians and victims in the past. This is why I believe The Valkyries would've been more interesting if they took a humanitarian (kind of) approach to things. Helping women who are oppressed, like Illyrian women, or those in The CON, follow their dreams and escape abuse.

The IC call themselves The Court of Dreams, so wouldn't having The Valkyries be the ones to help the underprivileged start on the path to fulfilling their own dreams be poetic? It would give her a chance to travel too, if she went across Prythian or even to The Continent.

Stepping back from The Valkyries for a moment, there are many strong FMCs that aren't warriors at all. Personally, I think Stephenie Garber writes them best.

My favourite Evangeline Fox. I think she's the strongest FMC I've read/watched because her strength comes from her kindness, and belief in true love, even when the world is trying to prove otherwise. She refuses to give up hope for a happily ever after, and fights through impossible odds with her wit and heart alone for her love.

I also love Scarlett's resolve and quick thinking. I honestly think she's a lot like Nesta in some ways, when it comes to protecting her sisters (though I think Feyre is a bit like her at time s too). I'm impressed by the lengths she'd go to for those she loves, and her resolve when she decides that she deserves better than what someone's giving her. I love Donatella's determination, and decision to use other people's low opinions of her, and ideas of her being just another dumb blonde, choosing instead to use it to her advantage and prove them wrong out of spite.

I love Tohru Honda and her resolve to be kind and compassionate to everyone, even those who don't deserve it. She assumes ignorance or accident before malice and continues to strive to be better, for herself and for others. Her kindness and compassion is what inspires others around her.

I love Sophie's resourcefulness and bravery in Howel's Moving Castle.

I love Winter from At The End There Was You, because of how kind and chatty she is. How she choses to believe that the good can outweigh the bad and never stops asking questions or being curious.

Even jumping back to SJM for a moment, I love Bryce, not because she can weald weapons, but because of how resourceful, kind and witty she is. I love how she uses her femininity and others' low opinion of her to her advantage. Yrene was my favourite character in TOG, and I loved Tower of Dawn because of her. Some of my favourite moments with Aelinare when she's being girly with Lysandra. From chatting and sharing chocolates, to playing with Evangeline, or having some form of girl time (most of which are in QOS).

The Valkyries had the potential to be more than just, the now, stereotypical, strong, warrior FMCs.

“"There are many types of strength beyond the ability to wield a blade and end lives. Amren told me that yesterday."”

I think this quote should've set the president for The Valkyries. Looking back at this, I think it's less The Valkyries that I dislike and more the fact that they're warriors. I wish it played more into that quote, rather than giving us the same old story about finding strength through fighting. Personally, I think solving disputes between nations through words and dancing, or discovering the cure to sicknesses, or even bridging the gap between two sentient races sharing a world (humans and fae) all while fulfilling your dreams is more impressive than swinging swords around and ending disputes with death.

If there really needed to be some semblance of warrior like training, why not lower the intensity to self defence? Do something like Yrene and start teaching women self defence and educating them in reading, writing and maths. Give them the opportunities to better their lives and create futures for themselves. Make them about empowerment in whatever ways others feel comfortable, not just by becoming warriors.

TLDR: I think the Valkyries, namely Nesta, being warriors, first and foremost, is a disservice to her character and to the strength of women who find empowerment through other means. “"There are many types of strength beyond the ability to wield a blade and end lives. Amren told me that yesterday."” is what Amren said in ACOWAR, as quoted by Nesta, and I think that should've set the tone for The Valkyries. The worst part is how her own so-called mate doesn't respect that about her. I do want to hear other thoughts on this matter though. Do being warriors suite The Valkyries? Does it suite Nesta or her story?

[1-800fandomqueen]

Murdered 1462

Vladislaus Dragulia x fem!reader

Part Two

WC : 3.7K

SW : No usage of "Y/N," physical appearance and details are left completely ambiguous and are up to interpretation. Mentions of witchcraft, verbal abuse, murder, canon-typical violence and story-line, pregnancy, death, etc.

If there are any more warnings to be added let me know!

This is a re-post, all of my old accounts were deleted.

“Born: 1422… Murdered: 1462.”

‘I was born into a noble family, my father was the duke of Hungary.’

Slipping into the more tame selection of your clothing, muting the sound of ruffling cloth as much as possible to not wake you lady-in-waiting, Agnes, who had fallen asleep whilst handling your linens. Once dressed, you throw a shawl over your head in any attempt to hide your identity. You’d been hated by the townspeople ever since you and your father had travelled here for business, the small-minded people of Transylvania already despised the idea of foreigners, but the idea of you and the rumor of the practice you brought along? Most claimed you to be a witch. But alas, even their hatred couldn’t extinguish your spirit.

Sneaking out had never been easier. 

You’d always been an adventurous person, something your father always chastised you for. He believed ladies should sit still, sit quietly, and sit pretty. He had an image to uphold, and he couldn’t have his only child galavanting around town, acting improper. He used to let you do as you please, but when the plague took your mother he became cold, harsh. 

Feeling the cold air hit your skin as you shimmy out the window and down the trellis until your shoes hit the ground with a small thud, making a small promise to yourself to be back before dawn. The entire grounds of the house were fenced in, with guards stationed at the main gate. You couldn’t exit out that way as they would stop you the second they saw you. But unbeknownst to them, you’d discovered a break in a part of the fence. Shimmying out the back, you begin the trek down the hill the house sits on to the village. 

~~~

‘It had been cold when I met him, when he saved me. If he hadn’t shown when he did, I fear I would have been no longer. ‘

“You can run but you can’t hide, witch!” You were growing tired, legs and feet burning with effort. When turning a corner in the marketplace you’d run into someone,  knocking the shawl off your head, revealing your identity. You’d garnered the attention of a group of particularly cruel drunkards, who began to hurl obscenities towards you. And before you could even blink, they began chasing you. You tried to throw them off, hoping all your time exploring would have given you enough of a terrain advantage. But the feeling of someone grabbing the back of your shawl and pulling you to the ground steals all your hope of getting away. 

Pain absorbs your back as you land hard and fast on the cold ground. The early morning dew seeps through your dress as the cold air fogs your breath as it leaves your lungs from the impact, the main perpetrator kneeling on your neck, cutting off your air supply. One of the other men wrapping your feet and hands with rope. Your ears rang as your head snapped back against a rock, vision going foggy. You couldn’t hear what the men were saying to you, only that they were taunting you. You were able to make out the blur of a mass of light coming towards you, and it was only when the heat brushed against your face could you tell it was fire. 

You tried to fight back, to struggle. But with the mans’ knee against your throat, the lack of oxygen was making you weak. As the black spots were so close to entirely filling your vision, the man suddenly lets off of you, and the heat of the fire goes away. You cough, rolling over onto your elbows and knees as you try to regain your breath. You can hear the men pleading to a deep voice for mercy, and then your vision returns in time to watch as they run away.

“Are you alright?” 

‘I didn’t even know his name, he wouldn’t give it to me. All I knew was that I was utterly captivated by him.’

The deep accented voice held your attention entirely, as the man attached to that voice crouched down next to you, a gentle hand placed on your back. “Madam? Are you alright?” Gasping out, feeling like your vocal chords are completely crushed, only able to choke out a small “yes.” The hand on the small of your back stays while one reaches to your left forearm, grabbing it to help you up. And when you stumble backwards, the firm body of the stranger is there to catch you. 

When you’ve regained your breath, and were able to stand on your own, you stepped away from the stranger. “Who are you?” gazing at the man before you and trying to map his features by only what you could see in the barely-there moonlight. You’ve decided by what little of him you could see, that he was still undoubtedly handsome. Slightly taller than you, possibly 6-foot, dark hair, and shockingly blue eyes. 

“Who I am is of no importance at the moment,” the deep voice jolting you out of your stupor, “But it is important to know why a group of beţivii (drunks) were attacking a young woman in the forest?” At the mention of your attack you feel the pain seep into your neck, adrenaline finally beginning to wear off. Letting out a cough as your hand comes to gently cup the base of your neck. “Well, Romanians tend to be quite wary of foreigners, and you’ve just bore witness to the fact that they don’t particularly like me.” your tone clipped, pulling a deep chuckle from the man. 

You feel blush overtake your visage as you realize how rude that sounded, embarrassment filling you at your rudeness to the man who saved you. “I’m sorry, I’m usually not this rude I swear, I’m still just a little frightened. Thank you, by the way, for coming to my aid. I’ll ask my father to make sure you’re rewarded for your valiant efforts.” The stranger ignores your apology and thanks, “Your father?” his head tilted to the side, pieces of hair falling across his face, “Yes my father, He’s the Duke of Hungary, we’re here on diplomatic business.” “Hmm, for what?” You falter and cover your mouth, giving the man an apologetic look. You’re relieved when he seems to pick up on what you’re implying, even though he gives you a dark, brief, look of knowing,  “I understand, trade secrets.” He says with a slight smile, holding out his arm. “Here, it’s almost dawn, let me accompany you back to wherever you’re staying.”

And with a small smile, you take his arm. 

‘I didn’t anticipate what would happen when I took his arm. That my world was about to turn, that taking his arm on that cold, damp, morning, signed my death.’ 

It was a lovely walk back, filled with small talk and pleasantries. When you approached the doors to the Governor’s house, you could hear the commotion before you saw it. When the stranger accompanying you opened the door, his right elbow still linked with your left, all the commotion suddenly came to a screeching halt. Several pairs of eyes turned to you, including those of Agnes, then the faces attached to all those eyes paled when they saw the man whose arm you still held. When your father called you towards him, a dark look in his eye, you felt the pit of your stomach drop. “Step away from him. “ Your father beckoned, he hadn’t looked this grim since the doctor in Hungary told him of your mothers fate. 

Swallowing in nervousness you look up to the man accompanying you only to find him already looking down at you, a rather downcast look in his eyes. Your father calls again, walking towards you. “Step away. Now.” You stare long and hard at the man by your side until he gently nudges you towards the others in the room. You failed to notice until you looked up that most of the guards in the room had their weapons aimed towards him. Stepping away from him you’re immediately met by your lady in waiting coming and sweeping you up the stairs. “Lock her in her room Agnes, until I call for her.” You throw one last glance towards the man to find him still staring at you. Turning the hall, Agnes gently pushes you into your room, and before she shuts the door behind you, the angry conversation from the foyer floods into the room. “What were you doing with my daughter, Impaler.”

‘I suppose it wasn’t a bad situation, after all I was quite taken with him, even if I didn’t know who he was at first. I didn’t fear him, even though everyone else did.’

It was what felt like hours before you heard a key being inserted in the lock of the door. Bounding up from the bed to be greeted by the sight of two guards when the door swung open. You weren’t able to utter a single word when you were grabbed by both arms and dragged away from your room, well actually the room belonged to your Stranger, in your time locked in you had discovered from Agnes that Vlad was the Military Governor of Romania, and that you and all the diplomats were currently residing in his house. 

Ironic how things work out. 

 When you asked where you were being taken you were met with utter silence, the guards only tightening their grip after you tried to pull away. Only feeling ease when the door to what you recognize to be the master study of the house was yanked open and you were promptly thrown in. 

Glancing up at the long table to see other diplomats lining the perimeter, your father and who you've come to know as Vlad the Impaler, gracing the far end of the table. “What’s going on?” questioned towards your father even though your eyes are locked with Vlads. Your father says nothing to you as he quietly sends off the others in the room, leaving only the three of you. You only move when he quirks a finger in a come-hither gesture, your eyes glued to your socked feet as you cross your hands in front of your legs. “You understand the reason for my business here,” your father says, “to create a treaty with him” word spoken with venom, “to prevent him from causing any more destruction and massacre off to the West” Saying nothing, only giving a slight nod, still looking down. “Well everything was lined up perfectly, but now, the Voivode (governor) has added a new term to the treaty. Your hand in marriage.”

Feeling your eyes bulge out of their sockets as your head flies up, immediately shouting out “What?” the glare your father sticks on you prevents you from saying anymore. “You heard me girl.” grabbing your arm as he drags you to the farthest corner of the room. “And as much as I hate to do this, you will marry him. You’re reaching your twentieth year and still haven’t married, and I will not jeopardize the well-state of Hungary just because you decide to be stupid and prance around in the town unsupervised.” Your jaw dropping in shock, eyes welling with tears. This man before you was not your father, in all fairness he hadn’t been much of a father after your mother died but his words still hurt nonetheless. 

“Your grace, I would like a moment alone with your daughter.” your father turns red-faced, the beginnings of a protest forming in his mind, “It wasn’t a suggestion.” One elegant finger pointing towards the door, “Leave. Now.” huffing, your father pushes past you and storms towards the door, the loud sound of it banging closed behind you causes you to jump, a small cry of fear leaving your lips. 

Now it was just you and him. With your head still down you didn’t notice his approach until perfectly polished shoes fell just within your line of sight. Your name being gently called as a rough hand softly finds itself upon the back of your elbow. “I hope you’ve learned by now that I mean you no harm.” His right hand coming to your chin and tipping your head up, Blue eyes coming into contact with yours once again. “I hope you know I do not wish to cause you distress with my proposal.” You nod profusely, muttering out a soft repeating of “I know.” The same hand on your chin moves up to wipe the tears you didn’t know had fallen. For a man who had killed thousands with those same hands, when he was near it was nothing but gentle touches. “Our marriage doesn’t have to be immediate, I’m not immune to the benefits of a little light courtship, however I am reaching an age no bachelor ever should.” Words spoken with a joking lilt, Vlad briefly hunching over. You can’t help but chuckle at the sight of his horrible interpretation of an old person. 

The two of you are launched into a comfortable silence, and you realize that with all that you’ve learned about this man in the past however many hours didn’t scare you as much as it probably should’ve. And with this newfound bravery and lack of fear, you confidently reach and grab the hand that’s resting on your cheek and with as much courage as you could muster, and you accept his proposal. 

‘Being with him wasn’t at all what I thought it would be. He was nothing but kind to me, nothing but gentle touches and words all throughout our marriage.’

With the treaty being settled and your newfound courtship with a certain military general, everyone left back to their home territories, including your father. Him practically trading you off to sell his own skin didn’t hurt as much as it used too. He left quickly and with promise that most of your possessions still in Hungary would be sent down to Romania. You kept Agnes with you, after all she’d been one of your closest confidants since your mother had died. When the spring of 1460 came along, it brought your twentieth birthday and marriage ceremony with it. 

It was a truly gorgeous ceremony. While not filled with pomp and circumstance, it was graceful, elegant. Your pursuer wasn’t exactly poorer, and you were able to have the most gorgeous gown you’d thought you’d ever seen. You had Agnes of all people walk you down the aisle, seeing as your father hadn’t thought to show even though invitations had been sent weeks in advance. You had been introduced to an estranged number of people at your wedding. Your husbands’ father, Valerious, who served a group of Holy Knights. He proved to be a rather cynical man, yet seemed to be nice once you’d gotten to know him. 

You couldn’t help but notice, however, a man who always hovered near the back. He was tall, dark hair, covered in black clothing, however you could never make out his face. You knew he was watching you, even when separated from Vlad you could feel the glare of someone constantly burning into the back of your neck. Everytime you garnered your husband's attention to question him about the man, he seemed to have disappeared, swallowed by the shadows he hid in. 

Marriage to one of the most dangerous men on this side of the Balkans wasn’t bad. He always treated you with a gentle hand, was never harsh, never cruel, and he never-ever raised his voice. When questioned on his docile behavior his reasoning behind it being that you were his wife, and you should never need to fear him. 

When you came to find out that he didn’t live in the palace-like house you were staying in when you first arrived in Romania you were slightly shocked. No, instead he lived in a citadel, a castle near the Arges River; Poenari. And what a beautiful place it was. You much preferred the secludism of this house than the one in the town. The view of the mountains and the fresh air they produced was always a reprieve. Your room was in the highest level of one of the castle spires, with a large window parallel to your bed, so you always woke to the stunning view of the sunrise. 

You were however surprisingly lonely most of the time. As it would turn out, being someone of extreme military prowess took a lot of your husband's time away from you. If it weren’t for Agnes and the few estranged workers who milled around the estate you fear you’d have gone mad. When he wasn’t busy trying to take over most of Europe, he was a very caring man. Giving you luxurious gifts, taking you on trips. His love took you into the deepest throes of passion, both physically and metaphorically. 

You truly couldn’t ask for a better husband.

‘It was raining that night, not quite cold enough for it to snow. I can’t remember that much, I just remember how scared I was.’

The rain crashed against your window, thunder and lightning taking the sky ever-so-often, Vlad wasn’t in bed even though it was quite late. He was having a very crucial meeting, about what you didn’t know, he’d only come to your room to tell you not to wait on him, to go on and sleep, and to bestow a small kiss to you and your rotund stomach. 

After almost two years of marriage, the summer of 1462 blessed you with news of a child. With Poenari being so far from any doctors, your dear Agnes stepped in as a midwife of sorts, making sure you were healthy; sleeping and eating well. She said that springtime would be when your child would finally make their appearance into the world, and you were eaten alive with both anticipation and excitement. 

But with your pregnancy came all sorts of changes. For example, it might have been the dead of winter, but you felt as if you were burning alive. Dressed in nothing but one of your husband's shirts and your undergarments you couldn’t find it in yourself to combat the heat. Grabbing the side of the mattress and your bedside-table, you heave yourself off the bed, reaching for your thin silk robe.

You failed to notice the dark figure in the corner of your room. 

Shuffling over to the other side of the room you go to feel around the box of matches off one of the bookshelves, to relight the lamp on your side-table. Once you find what you’re looking for, you turn on your heel right as lightning strikes and lights up the room. It was for only a moment, but that split-second of light was all you needed to see the man standing in the corner of the room closest to your door. You almost think it’s your husband playing a trick on you, but the rational part of your brain understands that Vlad would never do that to you, especially in your current condition. With the man so close to the door you surely can’t run, so you do the only other thing you could think of.

Scream and hope your husband or a guard hears you in time.

You didn’t even register how loud your scream was, your body going into fight or flight mode the second the man lunges forwards. You bolt as quickly as you could to your Husbands’ side of the bed to grab a dagger he keeps next to him off his side-table. You turn to stab your assailant as he reaches to grab you. He clutches your wrist faster than you could keep up with, pushing it back and trying to twist your own wrist towards you. Crying out as it reaches an angle it shouldn’t, you propel your knee forward into his groin which gives you enough time to run around the other side of the bed and towards the door, reveling in his groan of pain.

As you work your way past the bed you feel the air around the back of your head shift and the next sound you hear is that of your window breaking. Ignoring the glass that flies all over the room, you crank open your bedroom door, screaming at the top of your lungs for help as you try to begin to make your way down the spiral staircase. It’s only when you hear voices shouting from below do you feel a hand wrap its way around the back of your neck, yanking you back up the stairs. You’re dragged through your room and brought to where your window once was, glass shards digging into your feet. Lightning strikes once more as you’re flipped around, back leaning out into the rainy abyss, and you’re able to get a better glimpse of your attacker.

It’s the man from your wedding. 

Right as you reach this epiphany the door to your room slams open, your husband entering. He calls your name, hand lifting in the air and weakly falling back. “Don’t do this Gabriel,” he pleads, “Please let go of my wife.” The mystery man, Gabriel, pushes you further, your back bending at an awkward angle out and into the chilling rain. “I’m sorry,” your assailant murmurs, “But you broke the oath.” 

And with that, he pushes you out the window. 

You can’t tell if that sound is you screaming or if it’s the wind rushing past your head. Your hair whips around your face as rain projectiles onto you like tiny bullets. The last thing you see is your Husband leaning out the window, gazing at you in defeated sorrow, and a gloved hand coming around, plunging a dagger into his chest. 

You’re not quite sure how you die. Whether your body slammed onto the hard ground hundreds of feet below your bedroom, or if you land in the Arges. All you remember is that brief bit of searing pain,

And then everything went dark. 

~

Originally posted December 2nd, 2021.

[queengiuliettafirstlady]

The Porcelain Doll secrets 

The Porcelain Doll secrets 

Fandom: Ikemen Villain

Pairing: Elbert x July

Part of : Learning How to Love Myself Creation Challenge hosted by @venulus

Tag: Angst Hurt Comfort Body dysphoria Verbal harassment Insecurity Fluff

Word Count : 9.877

Author’s Note: A ball become an occasion for secrets to be revealed and confession to be made bringing two lovebirds closer than ever, past scars got mended and insecurities reassured with the feelings that hold their heart together bounded with love. 🥰

The doll of the title is July due to the her appearance she has often been compared to one. 🤗

Tag list

@kissmetwicekissmedeadly @aquagirl1978 

@william-rex @lichtluv

@writingwhimsey @fang-and-feather @moonstruckmelancholic

@wistfulwanderingone @rjthirsty @ike-garden2024

@jollibeeshappiness @starzyquee              

@maeko-kun @rkmaru

You can find me on AO3 as QueenJuliet 😊

Thank you for everyone who will like, reblog, or comment please be gentle with me english is not my first language so please do not leave rude comments I apologise for eventual errors I hope you will like it 😊

It was the dark of the night in London, all the mansion’s residents were wide awake, prowling the streets to punish the evil hidden in each corner of the capital.

Everyone had a mission to accomplish in their own way.

Anyone … but me.

The palace was eerily empty that evening offering me quite a rare occasion to roam its halls undisturbed, sighing heavily I leaned against a window frame clutching between my fingers a paper I learnt by heart for as many times as I read it.

Your Honourable Earl Elbert Greetia and his fiancée are cordially invited to the ball hosted by Your Grace Duke of Winchester held on saturday of the current week in his ancestral mansion in Hyde Park.

Wishing this letter would find you well, we await your presence most eagerly.

Faithfully yours.

                                           Lord Sebastian Redford. Duke of Winchester

I knew we should have attended, even more since my lover is a noble … but still my heart refused to yield to it.

Voices of a distant past, half memory half made-up swirled in my mind making me feel dizzy, I shook my head hoping, but in vain, to clear it, enough at least to let me reach my room, in a daze I wander around the hallways, stopping right in front of his room.

I know he had a mission but I hope he comes back soon unscathed, even though I know very well he won’t be, emotionally, wounds I would comfort him from by holding him close, brushing my fingers in his soft curls until he would feel asleep.

I let out a dreamy sigh looking back at our story, one of a kind, rolling lazily in the soft blue velvet sheets of his bed, as my eyes scanned each object we managed to collect together.

Together.

A word that I would have never thought possible between me and him when I first arrived, and that even now I find hard to believe, but my heart mad beating reveals the truth of a love too deep rooted to be forgotten.

Unlike the hateful invite whose pearlescent envelope still shines under the rays of the moonlight, discarded on his nightstand where I left it next to the spare key to his room he entrusted me with.

I never minded information gathering missions, after all that is part of my job, to deal with the most quiet and relatively peaceful part of it, since I am too sensitive to do otherwise.

The fact that bothers me the most is the hatred I have of parties, ever since I could remember even informal ones, but that night, no matter what I thought, I should have participated in that ball whether I liked it or not.

I should have been happy, even looked forward to it, too bad I feel otherwise, I knew it was just a mission, like Elbert and I had done countless times and yet I couldn’t help but feel panic rising in me at the mere prospect of participating in such an event.

Every normal girl would have been excited to join in.

But not me.

I am not normal. 

Everyone my age did their best to make me understand it through countless mockery, I paid them no mind I accepted it even but deep down I saw what it truly was, the tip of the iceberg of insecurities long concealed from the entire world.

I could have given up but the mere idea of leaving Elbert alone in such a place with so many people that would have fawned over him, making him uncomfortable, was unbearable to me and so I accepted.

The week went by in a blur and before I knew it Saturday had arrived.

Little did I know that my insecurities had picked that day, of all days, to pester me and were not going to budge until I felt like a rag, exactly how they wanted.

It wasn’t certainly the first time my kindness made me end up in an awkward situation, or that my low self-esteem tortured me so, but this time I wouldn't have given up because for nothing in the world I would have let him fight his demons alone, for this I accepted to accompany him.

Too bad I soon regretted my choice, cursing that mission as I found myself in the tailor shop Liam suggested to me.

The soft velvet wrapped around me was warm, a suffocating level of  smoldering for my liking, the bodice tight around my abdomen, almost painfully so, especially since my bosom looked a bit too much shown off, but I couldn't do anything about that, the bell sleeves covered my knuckles whereas the gown reached the floor, due to me being not tall enough , barely leaving out only the point of the low heeled dark teal pumps matching the empress teal color of my dress.

The only thing keeping me sane among all that mess was the stark sapphire of the golden engagement ring Elbert gifted me, the one I continue to caress to calm my racing mind trying to make peace with my heart, begging to not let my insecurities show, knowing better than to let anyone know my weakness no matter how much I trust them all.

At times I really do wonder what he sees in me, but it would be an insult to him to forget the immense affection ever present in his gestures and words showing me the depth of a love he held only for me, deep in his gentle heart, enough to tame, for a while, my doubts.

He, who could afford the very best in the world, picked me to be at his side.

He chose me above anyone else.

He wants me despite what I think of myself.

He loves me.

This alone fills my heart with a speck of courage enough to make me steer my resolve and come out of the changing room.

The first who notices me is Roger whose whistle of appreciation elicits me to be bolder, entering the spot of sun shining on the smooth parquet from the window as I swirl around myself giving Alfons and Harrison a front row seat to the show.

I do my best to feign nonchalance, feeling their gazes on me, but my voice betrays my emotions, coming out softer than how I would have liked to be.

“What do you think … of it ?”

The issue of the weird group that followed me to the seamstress is the fact that among them all the one I trust the most is Roger, whereas the other two are … well … pretty good liars.

I would have liked Liam to stay but he had a rehearsal for the following night opening spectacle and so I let him go, not desiring to ask anything knowing how much the theatre was to him.

“It’s pretty.”

His reaction was like a rain on a parade, chilling the little confidence I managed to collect back to square one, with all my inner doubts the word pretty is just what I need to hear, I look down, unable to meet Harry’s gaze any longer, adjusting my bodice as I bite my bottom lip.

I know in his head this wasn’t an insult, he just was listless since the one who dragged him along, bribing him with sweets, was Alfons, maybe the one of the three that know me better due to my relationship with Elbert.

“It looks nothing like the mannequin. I don’t know if it suits me.”

Roger was the first to talk,  perceiving the bitterness from my tone, seeing past my smile straight to the hasty way my finger kept pulling the lace on my back, rolling it around my digit, in a swift move he took it in his own hand leaving it to fall on my back.

“What really matters is how you feel in it ?”

“Disappointed. It looked so beautiful but now it feels like I am only lessening whatever charm it had.”

I gaze down, unable to meet his eyes, doing my best to drown the dark thoughts swirling in my mind, but I should have known he wouldn't let it slide off, even though he always called himself egotistical it was plain clear to me how deeply kind he was past his rough facade.

He cups my face in his hand, a glimmer of concern in his deep amber eyes as he gazes at me, his voice soothing almost like he was reassuring a scared puppy doing his best to make his word get to me.

“July listen to me. All bodies are beautiful no matter the size nor age. You can do anything you like thanks to it. That is all that should matter to you.”

“You are saying … I should be happy ?” 

“You should be proud of what you are always and forever.”

I know he is telling the truth, but it’s much more difficult to let it sink in ever since I always believe I'm not good enough.

“Moreover, there's nothing wrong with being different. You know the world is made of difference and different is not equivalent to ugly.”

I turn to look at Harrison, who wandered next to me, he took my hand in his, in doing so the light shine on the sapphire gem glimmering on my finger, offering me an anchor amidst the stormy sea of doubt swirling in me.

“I know Harry.”

I adjust some wrinkles on my gown, invisible to anyone, but me, offering him a strained smile, catching a glimpse of sympathy in his turquoise eyes.

“Thank you anyway for coming with me. I am sorry for wasting your time.”

“Don’t mention it, no one had anything to do and this is far more preferable than staying in the palace doing nothing anyway.”

I return the gentle squeeze of his hand on mine, looking at him with a smile, hopefully brighter than the one before, reluctantly I slide away from them, faking a composure I don’t possess as I walk toward the changing room.

As soon as I close the silk scarlet curtain behind me I place a hand above my heart beating madly in my chest, swallowing as I could all the insults echoing in my mind, clutching my other hand on the golden looking glass frame to steady myself.

I had done my best to avoid looking too much at my reflection in the mirror ever since I got changed, the same I am forced to see when my gaze jolted up at it, startled by the feeling of two hands landing on my shoulder.

“Our little robin looks upset, I wonder why.”

I am in no mood for jokes and I know he must have sensed it as I pout, my patience is growing thinner, unlike my hips despite the steel grip of the laces he wrapped tight, just like I asked of him, but he seems to care nothing of it as he continues unfazed by my glare.

“It may not seem an universal truth but a lot of girls would literally give anything to have an hourglass figure without needing a corset.”

Alfons voice coo sweetly in my ear but I know better than to believe his words, ignoring the way his hands gently tug one ribbon of my bodice and his warm breath fan over my neck as I meet his gaze in the mirror, soured by the bitter smile I offer him.

“I see you don’t trust me.”

I can’t help but frown at his words, I always knew he was pretty fickle but this was the first time he was so cruel. I know he was trying to cheer me up, but nothing anyone could do or say will sway what I think of myself.

“July of all the time you could, I would like you to trust me on this one.”

There is a shard of honesty flickering in his navy blue eyes while his gloved hands stretch closer to the nape of my neck.

“If you desire I could show you through the others' eyes.”

“Others ?”

“Even Elbert. You may feel what he sees when he looks at you.”

“But it would be an illusion.”

“Would you say it to be such a bad thing, if it improves your self-esteem ?”

“No … but I don’t want to, thank you.”

“As you wish.”

With an exaggerated gesture he takes my hand in his, placing a kiss on its back, I turn to face him only to see his dark coat, pouting as I look up at him.

“What a fierce expression on your visage. I am almost tempted to sweep you away for myself.”

“Elbert won’t be happy.” 

“Would you ?”

“No. I love him.”

“You are so pure I can see why he loves you. In exchange for your honesty I will be too, for this time alone, mind you. I find this dress to be quite flattering to you. It compliments well your peculiar green-grey eyes and your raven curls.”

In so telling he brushes his thumb on my cheek before taking a strand of my hair between his fingers bringing it to his lips before leaning it back on my shoulder. 

“Alfons is right, that color really suits your complexion.”

“Pale as a sheet.” 

I chuckle softly looking at Roger, not missing the hint of sterness in his gaze as he sighs softly.

“Fair, with a touch of red on your lips and cheeks.” 

I smile up at him, collecting enough courage to look at my reflection in the long mirror on the wall.

“Do you really think so ?”

I half-await half-dread to hear the answer, thinking his compliments to be mere lip service but I can’t deny the jolt of happiness bolting in my heart at his words.

“You really do look like a porcelain doll to me.” 

I smile up at him, seeing something akin to a mirth glimmering in his amber gaze as he looks down at me.

“I am so happy to hear that. I really hope to not embarrass him.”

“I don't think he will think that of you, ever.”

“I know … is only that … I want to look pretty … at least to him, tonight.” 

My voice soft, almost pleading to who or what I couldn’t really say … mayhap wishing, for once, to be enough. 

“You already do or otherwise he would have not made you his fiancée.”

I look at Harry, smiling at the sight of him nonchalantly chewing on a candy, wishing his carefree attitude could rub off on me, even a little bit.

At that moment the doorbell rings, signing a new client, I turn around to look at the entrance to that private part of the shop in time to see a flash of pink walking in.

“Hello everyone.”

Liam’s bubbly attitude is enough to put me in a good mood. I turned toward him, hoping he would notice me eagerly waiting for his opinion.

I smile at the sight of his cherry blossom eyes widening with surprise as they set on me while a smile brighter than the sun appears on his lips, lightning his soft features.

“Ohhhh July you look stunning.” Giggle of happiness bubbles out from my lips as I return his warm hug, revelling in his sweet scent as he holds me close.

“Thank you Liam.” A flicker of reluctance glimmer in his gaze he pulls away, taking my hands in his.

“Ahhh I am almost envious to not be the one to accompany you tonight.”

“I will tell you anything once I get home I promise.”

“Ahh I look forward to it then. I bet you will make some heads turn too.” 

With a wink he plops down on the sofa leaning back on the pillows as he smiles at me.

“Oh my, this could be quite troublesome to have two good-looking people in the same place.”

Alfons words make me laugh, strangely, managing to make me forget, be it for a little while, the weight of insecurities from my heart.  

The ride toward the mansion that evening can only be described as dreadful, if not for the idly chat Alfons tried to sway my mind with, and the warmth of Elbert's hand engulfing mine.

I squeeze it in return, smiling at him, ever so thoughtful he must have sensed something was wrong since morning for he did nothing but shower me in compliments ever since I showed up for breakfast, without mentioning the passionate kiss he pulled me in after seeing me in my gown.

“I would have rather stayed home.”

“I feel the same.”

Even though I doubt we have the same reason for it.

“I don’t want to share you with anyone. Tonight especially you look even more lovely, like a star.”

I smile as he nuzzles on my shoulder, leaving a gentle kiss on my neck like an overly affectionate cat seeking his owner’s affection, a really beautiful and possessive cat obsessed with his mistress.

There is a vulnerability in his voice as he speaks, wrapping one arm around my waist as he shifts closer to me.

“You are my star, mine alone. I want you all to myself.”

“I am Elbie. I am.” 

The demons in his mind seemed to quiet down as he tightened his arm around me, cooing sweetly in my ear.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He leaves an achingly tender kiss on my forehead, moving me to the core, to the point I struggle to keep at bay tears as he lifts my hand in his, kissing my finger above my ring.

Useless to say he behaves like a proper gentleman all the way, helping me get off the carriage, placing a kiss on my hand whose blush I rush to cover behind my fan, robbing me a yelp as he snuck behind it to place a kiss on my cheek, making me happy even more than words could convey.

His gaze fixed on me, gives me the confidence I needed as we walk toward the palace, my hand on his elbow, as it is proper for a couple, etiquette that didn't reach to damp the bright way I smile at the warm touch of his hand on mine, too lost in each other gaze we barely hear the chamberlain’s voice as he presents us to the hall before we make our way to the ballroom.

It was all a dream.

Then the dream shattered.

Like a mirror cracking in countless splinters shining on the sickeningly fake smile of the nobles looking down at me.

A butterfly caught by a net destined to be a specimen, that's how I feel, walking around the room under the envious eyes of the same people that make the good and bad weather in London's social season ruled by etiquette and unspoken rules, things I am not accustomed to, nor understand, like the outcast I was and always would have been.

I wish he could have stayed with me but the mission comes first and so he had to follow Alfons, I would have done anything to make him stay … but I couldn't.

I told him I would have been alright, but I knew it was a lie he must have seen through judging by his heart's spoken words.

“If you feel uncomfortable, come to me.”

“I will, don't worry.”

I assured him with a smile, but deep down I knew better than to pester him for such a silly reason. I wander for a couple of minutes around the hall but not to no avail, I have yet to catch some interesting rumors, enough to report to him anyway, the urge to run to him and hide away in a corner is strong but he is working and I couldn't possibly be so irresponsible as to leave Alfons alone.

It is already too much for me to be completely useless for this mission, leaving all the gathering information to the others, the least I could do is stay out of everyone's way and beg to fly under the radar, enough to not be bothered by any mockery.

Elbert never minded me being different then why should I ?

As this thought pops up in my mind a flicker of confidence begins to burn in my heart as I make my way toward a group of people chatting next to the buffet table when someone else caught my attention.

A grumpy woman, dressed in brown, looks down at me, before I can escape though I see her marching toward me.

It would have been a sign of being uncouth to not wait, even though something nagged at me knowing I would have regretted it, but Elbert's reputation comes first, I couldn’t make him embarrassed about me, no matter what, and so I stayed.

I am lucky enough to be with him, weird as I am, I can't disappoint him and risk him giving up on me, the mere idea makes a cold shiver run down my spine, I do my best to ignore taking a sip from my water-filled glass.

“You must be Lord Elbert's partner. I heard you were announced as such.”

“Yes, I am. It's my pleasure to make your acquaintance. ”

My words stop abruptly as she talks over me, and what comes out from her lips makes my blood freeze in my veins. 

“For tonight alone I hope.” 

Adding to the uncomfort of the situation are her eyes full of disdain, I don’t doubt shared by those around her.

“Why did you ask ?”

“You see, because I could never picture you as his fiancée.” 

“Why not ?”

“Oh dear you are pretty I give you that but Lord Elbert is a handsome earl, a pretty coveted husband for many and you ... You can't be with him. You are not good enough for him.”

Her word hit the target, like a fist on the solar plexus it took all the air out of my lungs, set on fire by the mere act of breathing, I clutch the glass to the point of hearing my nails claw on its smooth surface, faking composure I take it to my lips, hoping the sip to calm down my nerves.

“But…” 

I am ready to reply, but I was never too good at standing up for myself even more in front of such arrogant persons and so I swallow my retort along with the humiliation of feeling watched by the nobles gathered in that part of the hall.

“Oh please don't protest, it's so middle class to take any advice personally.” 

She frowns looking down at me as I am the weird one, not her for insulting me as it was nothing, with a jolt of her wrist she clacked her fan open and then snapped it close, hitting it on her hand sign she has all intentions to steer the conversation where she want and nothing would have stopped her.

“You are not at the same level but I am sure that someone else will surely do, your pretty face will make some head turn I am sure. You just have to choose anyone … but not him.”

“Why are you telling me that ?” 

I wonder the reason why she is being so cruel to me, but no matter how I rack over my brain nothing comes to my mind, leaving me dumbfounded and wounded by her treatment I had no reason to deserve. 

“Someone has to, my dear. You are a clever girl and as such you must see that Lord Elbert is above anyone. He is a deity worthy of the very best and you, let me tell you, are a bit too peculiar for him, too eccentric, we may say. You are even friends with that actor, what is it called ?”

“Liam.” 

I clench my hand in my sleeves, ready to fight off whatever distasteful insult she would throw about him.

“Yes, him. He may be a star but nothing good comes out to frequent people like that.”

“He is a great person, and a talented artist.” 

I answer back, swallowing the temptation to splash my glass on her slimy face, if for nothing else to not taint Elbert’ s reputation, even though I know he would care very little I still don’t want to make me a nuisance for him.

“To a weirdo he surely is. But for the Ton he is just an entertainer. Exactly like you.”

The words stinging like vinegar on a scar, I can only look back at her wondering what I have done to her too deserves such insults.

But after all, I should have gotten used to it. 

I should have expected it.

I should have … but I didn’t, and now I am paying the price for forgetting a lesson I should have, by now, learned  by heart.

That I am and always would have been an outcast, foolish in believing in people's goodness, mad even in trusting them to be good to weirdos like me.

Voices from the past overlap with the ones in the present creating a hellish noise that was enough to drown out the little composure I have, making me feel dizzy.

Her face looks like a dried plum, as a slimy fake smile plasters on her lips, looking pretty smug for someone who spit vitriol at me just a moment ago.

I glare at her, defiantly and judging by the look in her gaze she didn't expect nor likes that attitude.

“If I may.”

I raise my gown in a courtesy doing my best to keep at bay the urge to flee the palace, walking till I found a quiet corner of the room, her words echoing in my head, rubbing salt on my wounds, making them bleed as I try, to no avail, to patch up, struggling to breath properly.

I hold back all evening but right now I need him, I need to be with him, to feel his warmth, to hear his voice reassuring me of his love.

But the moment I spot him my heart skips a beat, dragging along the others, as it painfully beats against my ribcage.

My throat tightens and the tears, I managed until that moment to hold in, threaten to spill on my cheek, I grit my teeth, begging to forget what I just saw, begging it to be a lie, an illusion even but Alfons is nowhere to be seen, so this must be the truth.

I feel my heart shattering, the sprintles cutting through my skin, I can only clutch my hand over my chest, the gemmed brooch printing its figure on my palm as I struggle, but in vain, to hold it together at least until I will be safe away from there.

He was talking with a girl, and I could see how pretty and graceful she was, feigning innocence as she flirted with him, an elegance I will never have, always too much and never enough for anyone, rage boiling in my veins pushing me out of that mess.

The cold air of the night is enough to freeze me but I didn't feel it as I ran toward the carriage we came with, asking the driver to bring me to Crown’s castle.

It was a lie.

All along it was all a lie.

His profession of love.

Our happiness.

I am nothing more than an object, beautiful as I could be, destined to be owned and discarded like everything he used to have in his room.

And only now I see the truth from lies.

It was a cruel way to find out I am nothing to him like he is to me.

Tears stream down my cheek hastily dried in my handkerchief, swallowing the little whimper escaping my lips, as I bend in two, anger surge in me enough to numb my heartache as we approach the castle.

Once at the palace I knock at the door, smiling wearily at the servant before dragging myself on the stairs, pushing open my door and collapsing on the floor as soon as it was closed.

The mix of sadness and rage explode as I hastily took off my dress, discarding it carelessly along my corset and socks on the floor, tearing away my accessories I slam on the vanity, sliding my large velvet nightgown over my undergarments, not desiring to look at my body any longer than I already have.

The mirror on the wall stares mockinly at me.

I don’t even need to look at him to ask my question.

-Mirror on the wall, Who is the fairest of them all ? 

-Not certainly you, stupid girl. Take a good look at yourself. 

His answer is harsher and more cruel than what I expected, but nothing I haven’t already told myself. 

I take a sheet from the wardrobe covering him with it, even though his words echo in my mind, another page in the list of insults and tease written in my mind the same that came back to the surface to torture my gullible heart.

In any case I am more than sure he didn’t notice me anyway, taken as he was in the conversation. I know he was just gathering information but my jealousy made all that appear much more malicious than how it was and yet I can’t do anything to banish it.

Especially at the thought he had now found something much more beautiful to cling to.

The mere idea take away all my energy pushing me to plop down wearily on the bed, hot tears stream down my cheek as I drown my sobs in a pillow, my hand clench on the sheets as I do my best to breath regularly but struggling to do so, I stretch my trembling fingers to take something from my nightstand but clumsy pushing it off. 

A little porcelain doll he gifted saying he reminded him of me.

A shriek of agony left my lips at the sight of the doll rolled on the carpet, looking like her strings has been cut, even her lips seems to be curled in a melancholic pout feeling alone away from his lover, whose doll still stood on the nightstand leaned back against the night lamp with a forlorn frown on his lips.

Exactly as I feel now that he gave up on me.

Another batch of fresh tears swell in my eyes, blurring my vision until the only thing I can see is the faint glimmer of the ring I hadn't the heart to take off.

There is no way he could love me.

There should have never been anything between us, maybe if there wasn't I wouldn't have suffered so much over a love that mayhap was never destined to be.

What silly dreams did I have ?

What I thought I was ?

My body is a jumbled mess of softness not attractive to anyone, my weirdness clear in anything I do or say, nor noble, nor accustomed to elegance, not an ounce of beauty in me.

Foolish my heart to think that a deity, who could have had the world at his fingertip, would have settled for someone so low, a mere worshipper not worthy even to tie his shoes let alone be by his side, as equal.

Folly of love my gullible heart brought me to trust in, and only now I see that it was all along a dream wished on a shooting star, fleeting and unreal as only a love like ours could be.

On top of all that I had embarrassed him, exactly like I didn't want to, making him the laughing stock of the nobility since his fiancée had the courtesy to leave the ball without telling anyone, nor even the host. 

A lump stuck in my throat at the picture of him being disappointed in me, so much I almost could hear his voice, the same I love so much, telling me he can’t be with me because of his tarnished reputation, affirming he deem me to be not beautiful enough anymore.

I clench the fabric of the pillow, biting on it to muffle the sobs as tears continue to soak it, only one to know the depth of my heartbreak knowing far too well he won’t come to me to repair it, pouring love between each crack like he used to, not now that he has finally see me for what I truly am, a mere servant not certainly a princess, trapped in a tower by a dragon no one will come to defeat to rescue me.

The bitterness of this statement takes my breath away, torment broken only by the knock at the door. I whip to look at it hastily drying my face with the back of my hand, swallowing my sobs in a soft sigh I hope he didn’t hear.

“July are you there ?” 

There is a frantic tone in his voice enough to make my heart tug in two at the idea he had come to me, despite what I thought. The charming prince coming to the rescue of his princess, a romantic trope I can’t help but feel my heart swell with warmth for, knowing he didn’t fully give up on me. Not yet. Still not even that adding it’s enough to snuff out the flame of affection telling me he came out of his love for me.

I bite my bottom lip as I fight the urge to answer him, hoping he will go away, not desiring to impose myself on him even more than I already do.

“July please answer me. Are you there ?” 

I hear panic setting in his usual monotone voice, I really am the worst kind of girl making him worry so much over a  nothingness like me, I feel guilty about the state I put him in. I know that if I don’t answer he probably will wake up the entire mansion making them prowl the streets of London fearing I have been kidnapped.

I sigh heavily, steeling my resolve, my voice coming out at least but so soft I doubt he heard it.

“Yes.” 

Yet he heard, he listened to me as he always did.

“Open me.” 

His request though is one I can’t allow no matter how much I love him, he hasn’t to see that pathetic show I am doing of myself exposing so shamefully my weakness and scars.

Truth to be told, the reason why I don't want him to see me is that I am afraid.

I have learnt at a high price to not show any weakness. Pretend, smile, nod, be polite and everyone will stop at the facade, not desiring to see where the truth lies, no one will mock you for who you are.

“I can't.” 

“Please.”

His pleading tone is like a poisoned apple sanking in my throat, fueling the mad desire to be with him to ease the pain clawing his kind heart.

“I can't … please Lord Elbert … go away.” 

My voice grows wobbly, cracking under the weight of emotions breaking the dam in my heart as they spill on my cheeks dripping over my words as I beg him to do something I deem the only one right to be.

The sound of his steps fade away on the carpet stinge my heart like an ice dagger … but I have no time to wallow in my thoughts because one moment later the metallic noise of the lock being played with takes me out of my reveries.

“I beg you … go away.” 

I am too weak to keep fighting his stubbornness, underestimating once more the weight of the love he has for me, the same steer determination that pushed him to acquire greedily anything he deemed beautiful is now settled on me, and I don’t know if I am mad, and honestly I cared little, but I liked seeing him so clingy, even obsessed, with me.

“I beg you to let me in.” 

He must have perceived something in my lack of answer, mayhaps hearing my heavy sighs, because he frets over to add in a much stronger tone that I know to be unable to reason with.

“I won't leave you nor until you open. I am sorry but I won't go away.”

I sit down on the bed, trying to adjust the sheets as I could in case he would have used his spare key to enter my room, even though I knew him to be too respectful to force him in even if he could.

“I care about you.” 

The aching desperation in his voice is enough to make me get up, in a rush I ran to refresh my face in the sink, hoping to look normal enough, even though I know my red eyes and pale cheeks would have betrayed me, sighing softly as I open the door.

“I am fine as you can see, now you can go away.”

I see in his eyes how my dismissive answer wounded him, but I really can’t bother him with my foolish doubts, especially since I am sure he has far more important things to do than squander his time on me anyway. 

“This isn’t fine to me.” 

His eyes became dark with something akin to anger, dripping on the frown curling his lips, before I could close the door though he slid inside.

“I am sorry for intruding but I can't leave you alone. Not now.”

“Why not ? You have no reason not to.” 

I am touched by his affection I really am, but I hope from the bottom of my heart he hasn’t come all the way to say he want to give up on me, but luckily my doubt are immediately brushed off at the sight of the confusion glimmering in his gaze as he looks down at me, his tone matter of fact as he asks.

“Why should I ?”

“At the ball … I embarrassed you.” 

I sink my upper teeth in my bottom lip waiting with bated breath for the disgust I foresaw coming from him … but in its place I see nothing of the likes, only a quizzical expression in his light blue eyes as he tilted his head to a side.

“How so ?”

The clouds in the sky decided that moment to move away letting the dim light of the crescent moon shine on his golden hair, making him appear even more the deity he is, beautiful as he always was and as much unreachable, for someone like me.

“I went away before you.” 

I slide my thumb on my ring, caring nothing for the light prickle of the gem scratching my skin, unable to meet his gaze, for fear of seeing his disappointment I keep my eyes fixed on the mess of clothes on the floor.

“I noticed.” 

His words hit like lightning in a summer storm. I snap my head up to look at him, meeting his concerned gaze.

“You ... did ?”

“Of course I did. I was about to come to you when I saw you fleeing away.” 

“But that girl …”

He is too clever for his own good, there is no way he missed the hint of bitterness in my tone as a frown curl involuntarily my lips while I grit my teeth doing my best to keep at bay tears from spilling out and ruin the little composure I have.

“The one I was taking information from ?” 

The detached way he talks about her puts at ease the hint of jealousy gnawing in my mind, I unclench my jaw enough to put my tongue to use as I answer.

“Yes, her.”

“It was Alfons’ doing. I doubt she would have talked otherwise. She thought she was talking with one of his accomplices.”

The pleading tone in his voice as he looks up at me, waiting patiently for me to speak, if I was comfortable doing it, nor judging nor chiding me, put me at ease pushing me to confide in him.

“July, tell me the truth, why did you leave the ball all alone ?” 

“It was because of a woman, she started teasing me and since everyone surely agreed with her I thought it was better to go away and let you work.” 

By the time I finished, tears were already pricking at the corner of my eyes, the memory of her harsh words and mocking smile still fresh in my mind, I sniffled to keep my composure, or a resemblance of, in front of him.

“I figured as much. That’s why I stepped in her shadow.” 

I am taken aback by his statement, all along he knew and yet he made me say it in my own words to see if I trusted him enough to, fool I was to think he wouldn’t have noticed it, mad even to think to keep it to myself rather than talk to him, ever able to placate the storm of doubts swirling in me.

“You did ?”

“Of course I did. No one offends my fiancée and gets away with it. No one.”

I am baffled by his behaviour, nor that it displease me, nor surprise after all he can be quite protective of the things he loves, me above all, but I can’t help but be worried about him, I certainly don’t want him to become an outcast among nobles even though it never mattered to him I don’t want him to suffer even more by the hands of anyone.

“But Elbie, she is a noble. Aren't you afraid it’s gonna have repercussions on your reputation ?”

“She is only a baroness. Even if it has, I couldn't care less. She had no right to treat you this way. No one has.”

There is anger burning in his gaze, a threat in his smile as his words sound like a snarl quieted down only by the surprise my confession provokes in him.

“She is right.”

“No.” 

His tone leaves little space for a reply, I perceive his determination and I know that when he is like that nothing will sway his mind nor heart, but my demons aren’t so easy to placate.

“She is right, Elbert. I have nothing to give you, I am not worth fighting for. You can afford so much better.” 

Words that tormented me ever since I got with him finally slip out, enveloped in vitriol and bitterness so much I have an hard time recognizing them as mine, bleeding out from scars never healed of insecurities and anxieties freely lashed out on my sensitive and gullible heart, creating a reality from an illusion supported by the ever present mocking stares of the mirror on the wall, laughing back at me each dress I wore, each question I asked, whose cruel answers echoed in my mind wrapping it in his lies.

“How can I afford better when the best is already in front of me ?”

He cups my face in his hand brushing his thumb gently on my cheek catching the last tears flowing from my eyelashes as they were the most precious dews’ gems he had ever collected.

“July. You are the most beautiful thing that has ever happened to me.”

His words are all what I always dreamed of hearing, piercing into my core with their tenderness, their light shining through the cracks on my walls as they begin to crumble down before his love, lowering my guard for him and him alone, wholeheartedly placing my trust in him.

“Don’t lie to me. Please don’t.” 

My mind and heart are at fight with one another I struggle to keep them quiet as I gaze at him, looking into his eyes to try to see any sign of his honesty or lack of thereof, but what I saw there it’s only the deep earnestness of a pure, kind heart that loves me above anything. 

“I could never, ever lie to you.”

A light smile curls my lips at the gentle plea in his eyes as he looks up at me before sliding to nuzzle softly in my neck, tightening his arms around my waist, moved by his words I slide my arms around his head, bringing him even closer in my bosom, revelling in the ticklish sensation of his locks prickling the sensitive skin of my cleavage.

“Please trust me.” 

The same breasts that so often dried his tears and offered him comfort when he needed the most were now the object of my loathsome stare and shame. I really am a fool if I can look at them that so many times managed to make him happy with such hatred.

He must have perceived the doubts still swirling in me because one moment later he kneel on the carpet from where he presses his face into my soft tummy, that he so often used as a pillow with his arms wrapped around me and my fingers brushing in his locks lulling him to sweet dreams. 

He raises his head to look at me through misty eyes, his lips trembling slightly as his arms tightened around my legs.

“I love you.”

A strained smile on my lips, tears in my eyes spill on my cheeks as my fingers find their way to brush in his soft locks.

“I love you too.”

I cup his face in my hand, smiling at the endearing way he leans his cheek on my palm craving affection, yearning for love as he always did and now finally obtained with me and I would be so cruel to give up on him all due to my doubts when he had never gave up on loving me no matter how weird I am. 

After a while he raises once more to his feet only to take my hand in his, squeezing it gently as he cradles my face in his soft hand, the tenderness in his gaze moving me to the core as his thumb gently brushes over my cheek.

“Am I beautiful ... to you ?”

My voice betrays my heartbreak, all my insecurities collected in that single question, I feel my eyes get misty once more but I refuse to bend over to them, looking straight into his gaze, bright with resolution warmed by love.

“Yes. The fairest of them all.” 

His honesty brush away my anxiety,  glimmering in his light blue eyes, captivating me to gaze at him as the last stone of my walls crumble down and the sun of his affection manage to shine through turning the once thorn-maze in a dazzling garden, pouring love in each and every scar where once there was doubt.

At least I feel my lips curl in a smile, as a single tear rolls down my cheek followed by many more, a flood of emotions I found hard to contain until he captures my lips in a delicious, sweet kiss. 

The saltiness of tears mix together with the stickiness of my lipstick, as the strong aroma of champagne melts with the smooth texture of water, still fresh on my tongue.

Reluctantly he pulls away, keeping me close wrapping one arm around my waist, his fingers curling possessively on my hips, his hard chest moulds in my soft bosom as he cradles my face in his hand.

“I love you July to madness. I desire to keep you all to myself to cherish and make you happy. I can’t bear the idea of anyone even remotely hurting you.” 

“I love you too, Elbert, so very much. I am crazy over you and nothing will make me smile more than seeing you happy.” 

“I am happy only when I am with you. I love you as nothing I ever owned. I am a mess but you still loved me, it’s I who don’t deserve your love.”

“Please don’t say that.” 

I lean my trembling fingers to brush over his lips, melting at the sight of it curling to leave a kiss on them. 

“Do you still love me ?”

“It could not be otherwise. Never.”

Reluctantly he pulls away, sitting me on the bed like his personal porcelain doll he lean me back against the pillows as he kneel once more on the floor his ever graceful fingers stretched to take the doll from the carpet, brushing off the dust from her clothes as he hand it over to me. I take it to my chest, hugging her with a smile, happy to see she hasn’t broken despite my clumsiness, before placing her next to the doll of a prince, a gift I made him to keep her company.

The fairytale scene on my nightstand was complete once more, the couple of dolls that looked like us, sat side by side, smiled happily as they held hands, their love destined to be exactly like ours.

I focus my gaze on him, smiling back at me from his place on the bed, a light playful smirk adorn his lips as his gaze set on something on the floor his elegant digits reach to take, in the pale moonlight I see the object glimmering, he offers me no explanation though as he opens it, making its bold scarlet color shine outside its golden shell only then I recognize it as being my lipstick.

His voice is laced with a hint of obsession murking his gaze as he looks down at me, a facet of him I didn't pull away from, ready to embrace and love him as he is exactly like he always did for me.

“It seems my proof of love needs improvement since my kisses aren't enough.”

His movements are swift and precise as I never could have guessed, almost as he was used to it, scarred from a troublesome past he had spent being anyone's beauty doll, one he has broken free from I am happy to think, partially, because of me.

That thought alone warmed my heart as nothing ever could.

He put a spell on me, bewitching me to stare at him, shining bright like a charming prince.

My prince charming.

The same that galloped a horse all through the night to get to the palace before the carriage ever could, a secret his peculiar scent told me of before he even had a chance to. The idea that he spared no effort for me proof enough of his love to quiet the doubts in my mind.

I am mesmerized by the sight of him, his white and blue clothes sticking to his skin, his delicate red lips curled in a smile, his soft blonde locks shining under the warm light of the lamp and his calm yet passionate sea blue eyes, he is the very portrait of a cherubian. 

Mine and mine alone.

His greediness must have rubbed off on me but I don’t mind, I see it as a proof of the unconditional love and deep devotion we feel for one another.

He leans me against the pillows, raising my nightgown enough to lower the upper hem of my drawers. There is softness in his fingers where once there was only skin and bones, due to his habit to regularly eat alongside me, spurred by the meals I cook him as he told me himself, the memory of his honest confession makes me smile, warming me to the core.

My gaze glue to him as I feel his warm lips pepper wet kisses all over my belly, nibbling and sucking on my skin, kneading and moulding the soft flesh in its wake, brushing his fingers on my hips, tracing with his tongue each stretch mark, with his lips each mole, smiling up at me as he prop his chin on it looking up at me as I am was the most precious treasure in all the world … and I knew that to him I am.

He robs me of my coherent thoughts as his fingers make their way toward my plan abdomen, tickling it, making me dizzy from pleasure and happiness at the sweetness in his voice as he bestows professions of love on my body enough to reach my heart, flooding it with warmth. 

“My Princess.” 

A kiss of utmost devotion above my belly button, followed by a delicious sweet one at the center of my abdomen.

“My Queen.”

“My cherished treasure.” 

A soft brush of his lips placed gently on the upper part of my right breast followed by a tender one on my left.

“My precious doll.”

Hesitancy in his features as he looks up at me, his finger hover above my bosom, not daring to touch despite his eagerness to, gently I cup his hand in mine placing it flat on my chest, giving him permission to do anything he likes to me.

A light groan escape from his lips as he unbuttons my nightgown leaving me in nothing but my drawers and my regency corset, I sigh dreamily as the fresh air of the evening brush over the naked parts of my body, but the smoldering gaze he looks at me with is enough to make my heart race wildly in my chest keeping me warmer than the even the sun ever could.

I see him fiddle with the lace, I could stop him but I don’t want to and so I let him, a moan escapes my lips as he tugs at the ribbon holding it close with his teeth, enough to open it just a little bit, an erotic view I don’t have in me to look away.

I bathe a little longer in the lust lidded gaze he looks at me with as he lick his upper lip, smirking as he bends over me to take one of my breasts in his capable hand, caressing and molding it as he pleases, placing a kiss on its upper part, brushing his thumb on my nipple above the fabric, perking under his touch robbing a moan of pleasure from my lips at the relentless combination of kisses and massages as he gently switch his focus to the other one, leaving a trail of red kisses over my fair skin.

At last he looks up at me with so much devotion to have me in tears as he presses a reverent kiss between my breasts, filling my heart with his love.

“My love.”

“My one and only love.” 

In an instant he raise to tower over me only to melt his lips on mine in a delicious kiss I welcome arching under him, feeling the soft sigh of pleasure escaping his lips as I push my hips against his, swallowing my moans as he wrap his tongue with mine, letting him lead that sinful dance of passion as our bodies move in sync alike our heartbeats bounded by unwavering and unconditional love. 

Reluctantly he pulls away looking into my eyes, the same gaze I love so much now dark with lust and possession the same I welcome with open arms as he wraps me in his embrace, holding me close so much I can feel his warmth, nuzzling his head on my bosom, purring in delight as he looks up at me, his eyes overflowing with love enough to make my heart swell with affection at the endearing sight. 

“I love you July only you. You are my precious treasure, my one and only cherished doll.” 

“I love you Elbert so very much.”

There is a raw plea in his voice as he lean his face on my breasts gazing up at me. 

“Please don’t leave me. I really do love you. You are the only one for me.”

“I won't now nor ever.”

A carefree smile curls his lips as he sits on the bed, only to leave an achingly tender kiss on my forehead before tightening his arm around me as we lean back against the pillows.

“I love you as you are, don’t change.”

“I won’t. For you I won’t.” 

I murmur caressing his cheeks with my fingers, brushing some golden lock away from his face enough to gaze straight into the clear warm blue sea of his eyes.

“Please don’t give up on me.”

The shameless words of a weakling I managed to hold in until now come tumbling off my lips, so much I hope he hasn’t heard them … but he is certainly no fool like I was for thinking so. 

“I would never July, ever, for nothing in the whole world I love more than you. I assure you.” 

His warm fingers caress tenderly the apple of my cheek as he brushes his nose against mine, smiling at the sound of my carefree giggles. 

There is a strange vulnerability in his gaze, shadowed by his long eyelashes, latching onto his words as he speaks, reminding me once more of how sensitive and yet strong he is at once.

“Will you do the same for me ?” 

At least he raises his pleading eyes to meet mine, while his fingers on my waist tighten their grip almost as if he is scared I would give up on him, as if I ever could, an anxiety that pestered me too from time to time but that he always managed to brush away like I have done with his.

“Of course Elbie. I could never, ever no matter what.”

The sun returns to his gorgeous blue eyes as he gifts me a tender smile, so bright and happy to captivate me enough to reach and melt my lips on his, welcoming the gentle way he deepened the kiss, holding me close as he ravages my mouth with his tongue before entwining it with mine.

A kiss he breaks off reluctantly, leaning his forehead to mine as we avidly breathe the air in the little space between our lips, until he pulls back enough to wrap his arms around me leaving an achingly gentle kiss on my hair.

Some of my doubts could come back sometimes but I know that every time he will be there to chase away their clouds with the warm, smouldering light of his love.

I sigh softly in his embrace giggling as I feel his hands curl on my waist gripping me tightly, I nuzzle in his chest brushing my lips on his heart, revelling in the light chuckle escaping from his lips, eager to see more I look up at him purring softly at the gentle caress of his fingers on my cheeks admiring the tender expression in his light blue eyes crinkling with affection as I playfully smack a kiss on his cheeks gazing at him with a smile, mirrored by his own graceful lips as he hold me against him, enveloped in the warmth of the blankets we are cocooned in, less smouldering perhaps than the emotion burning in our hearts bounded inextricably together with love.

[krayonkiddos]

agere outfits!

im sure it’s obvious but just in case, the order goes patton, roman, logan, virgil, janus, and remus :3

i’ve never made outfit collage things before, so i hope y’all like these!!! i did my best haha

now for ages and headcanons and such under the cut :3

patton:

age range: he usually reaches like,, tiny baby age. i originally thought he’d be a bit on the older kiddo side cos i thought it’d be cute if he was like “i wanna help take care of the others even if im regressed” but nah his brain is like “you’re an infant now, let others help you whether you like it or not” ksjdjfkf

he’s nonverbal when he regresses, aside from the occasional single word sentence (such as “up!” or yes and no, though he usually nods or shakes his head for that)

it actually took him a while to realize he was an age regressor. he was the last of the group to realize their regression (though everyone else had their suspicions lol)

he doesn’t have a specific caregiver, everyone kinda takes turns caregiving, but baby patton is very (hilariously) attached to remus. his nickname for remus is “mouse” because he can’t really say remus or duke. mouse is just easier (roman is a bit jealous of the affection baby patton has for his brother, but he’ll take that to his grave)

roman:

age range: he goes from roughly 5 to 7, a bit younger if he regresses from stress

he started out being a rather proud regressor, not wanting to accept help from anyone. nowadays he’s the opposite, being extremely needy and clingy lol (no one really minds)

if you think he loves disney when he’s big, hoo boy little him is alllll about it lmao. he’s especially into bluey, watching at least one episode every time he regresses (and usually it’s not just one lmao)

big him isn’t really the biggest fan of remus, but when he regresses it’s a different story. he thinks of remus less as an annoying twin brother and more like a cool uncle that lets you do things your parents wouldn’t let you do. he’s embarrassed by this in a non-regressed state, and it doesn’t help that remus teases him endlessly for it lmao

logan:

age range: similar to roman, roughly 5 to 7, but much younger when stressed. he also has a tendency to age up slightly when others regress in his company. like if he’s seven, but patton goes baby mode, suddenly he’s twelve. not fully out of the headspace, but not as young as he’d prefer

surprisingly, he can be a bit of a brat. i mean this with love lmao. when he’s on the younger side, he has to have everything go his way or else. he also doesn’t handle rejection well. the others learned this very early on, and they each have different ways of dealing with it. but little logan’s smart and caught on to that, so when he needs or wants something, he chooses the big side he goes to carefully. little schemer <3

when he’s on the older side (or really when anyone is younger than him, which happens a lot), he becomes very protective. especially of patton, since he’s baby. he’s surprisingly good at knowing what patton needs, and verbalizes it on his behalf

when he’s feeling sad or stressed, he goes immediately to virgil. and if he can’t go to virgil for whatever reason, he goes to virgil’s room and lays on his bed. or, if he can’t go into virgil’s room, sits outside virgil’s door. virgil is his comfort person <3 or- comfort side. whatever kajdjfkf

virgil:

age range: he’s a teen regressor. like, 14 to 16 ish. he gets even more emo when regressed and no one knows how it’s possible skdjfkfkf

he has a paci he rarely uses, and it took a long time for him to become comfortable using it. he only really uses it when he’s particularly stressed (which, i mean, he’s kinda always stressed lol but the paci is basically for emergencies)

he’s an extremely protective older brother to everyone, and is almost like a caregiver even when regressed. on days where everyone’s regressed (as rare as they are), it’s him against the world lmao though he can enlist help from thomas (or remy if thomas is asleep) (remy only shows up in the mindscape when thomas is asleep)

he doesn’t need a caregiver since he’s always old enough to care for himself, but there are days when he goes to janus. he’s always mortified by it when he ages back up, but when he’s in the throes of teenage angst he needs janus’s support more than anything. he’s just grateful that janus doesn’t really bring it up when he ages up

janus:

age range: usually about 3 or 4, and doesn’t really go outside of that

lil dude loves hissing. but not like mean hissing, just excited hissing. he just goes “ssss!” and everyone knows he’s happy. the hissing is usually accompanied by hand flapping. stimmy lil snake <3

loves giving everyone hugs all the time. he just clings and won’t let go. he’s probably given the most hugs to either patton or roman, the latter of whom is basically always caught off guard by it. patton was caught off guard the first few times but has since adjusted (and happily so)

much like how little patton is very attached to remus, janus is extremely attached to roman. initially, roman wasn’t a fan of this, as he wanted as little to do with janus (both big and little) as possible. but once the two of them managed to bury the hatchet (as in, janus actually apologized), roman didn’t mind as much. it took a bit to become fully comfortable, but now roman is quite fond of little janus (and maybe big janus isn’t so bad <3)

remus:

age range: he could be any age, really. he doesn’t have time to figure out how old he is, he has mischief to get up to. he’s usually pretty capable when regressed, so he’s probably older than most of the others. he doesn’t act like it tho lmao

dude loves aliens. wants to be one. also pirates. his aesthetic can be summarized as alien pirates. or pirate aliens? thats actually why janus has an alien stuffie, it makes him think of remus <3

loves messing with the others when they’re also regressed. says things like “you’re now aware of your own breathing” and no one is a fan <3

definitely the most physically active of the regressors. if he’s not running, he’s jumping. and if he’s not jumping, he’s running kajdkfkfkf bro wears everyone out, even fellow regressed sides. the only one who can calm him down fully is janus, but only when janus isn’t also regressed. if janus is regressed he’s joining in on the chaos

thats the end of the post. i love these guys so much <3

[missbluesunflowersstuff]

Some Jason Todd headcanon

I have some headcanon between Jason and the bat siblings . Please respect

Jason has a soft pot for Steph. Why? Well just like him, she was a girl who had hope for Batman, but then Bruce managed to ruin that. Jason knows that feeling, so if she needs it he will help her, no matter where or what it is, he will help her (Jason and Steph are similar in ways no one is ready to talk about yet)

He and Duke are the street smarth in house, they use this to their advantage to annoy the other brothers, especially Dick (Dick is also a street smart because the circus, but jason claims that Dick spent so much time with Bruce and heroes that he lost it)

He favorite brother is Dick, he'll never admit it, but it's Dick (and Damian too)

In the past, when he was Robin, he saw Dick arguing a lot with Bruce (Dick was rarely at the mansion, but when he was present he was yelling at Bruce) and now Jason gives Dick all the credit for it

He also recognizes Dick's efforts "to fix" their relationship and even though he doesn't admit it he appreciates it

Jason don't dislike Damian, he thinks the boy is a little annoy sometimes but in the end he also cares for this boy even with all the shit, think about that older brother who says "Look we gonna in the same school, just don't talk to me, ok? I don't want my friends see me with you" ">tt< I didn't even think about talking to you"

(Jason joined with Bruce to bring Damian back when the boy died, Jason really cares for this little one)

Deep down, Jason feels a strange urge to protect the little robin, as if he was programmed to do so, but he tries with all his might to ignore this order. Jason doesn't understand where this desire comes from and he's sure Damian knows the answer, but Jason never asks because something tells him he won't like the answer

He barely remembers all the details of his league days, plus the training part, but faces and names are all a blur to him

Jason can speak Arabic and Chinese fluent (because league time)

Jason and Damian (in the past) would sometimes fake an argument in Arabic on the main com channel just to annoy Bruce and the others, they weren't even really fighting, just randomly shouting things in Arabic to annoy the others

they rarely do this now, as Jason is under the impression that Dick and Tim know enough Arabic to understand what they are saying

His relationship with Tim is ok now, Jason notices Tim's admiring look at him, but doesn't verbalize anything about it. Nowadays Jason is more angry with Bruce than anything, he understands that the Robins are nothing more than Batman's soldiers and no matter what Bruce says, Jason doesn't believe otherwise

and, just as he would do for others, he would help Tim at any time possible if the boy asked

Jason understands the bad things he did in the past, he knows who he hurt and how he did it, he has some regrets but not for everything, some people really deserver it

Since returning to Gotham, Jason has punched several police officers, why? the pigs were talking nonsense about his brothers. A police officer threatened to arrest Duke? The police car is burning now. Did a cop talk shit about Cassandra? Someone wakes up in the hospital emergency room with no teeth and broken bones. Did a police officer say something racist about Robin's accent? bitch you're dead. A police officer made a joke about Red Robin being in the pride parade? Pig down

police officers in Gotham are not trustworthy, only those who work with Jim Gordon and Jim Gordon himself

It's funny that all the evidence you could have against Jason magically disappears. Jason knows this isn't Bruce's job, Jason can see Batman's disappointed face on him when these incidents happen, but Jason can also see Dick stepping between the two of them, smiling as always and claiming nothing happened

usually Jason doesn't like being in Dick's shadow, but sometimes it's nice to know that Dick still sees him as a little brother

Some batkid headcanon: Damian || Duke || Cassandra || Stephanie || Tim || Jason || Dick

[romewritingshop]

Just Like Magic

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing: Viscount!Choso x Maid/Reader

Warning: Swearing? Threatening behaviour and use of knife

MASTERLIST

A/N: Some of you may have read this before, I just had to make a few changes in narrative and now I feel it is ready. Part 1 might seem not much but part 2 will be a bit more different. Part 3 is coming soon. Thanks and I hope you enjoy. Let me know what you think! Follow, comment or reblog, IDC because I enjoy writing this fic. Please pay attention before reading.

(Y/N) felt a tight lodge in her throat as she waited in front of the church's double doors. She adjusted the collar of the blue dress whilst her mind wandered. Finally the moment she had long awaited for had arrived. Three years and she was at the start of the fanfic she read but actually being in it was a different experience.

A gruff noise came from behind her which had (Y/N) freeze in her position. With a nervous glance, she felt blood flush from her face as a tall stoic man, with a thick small moustache, dressed in a regal purple robe. Still looking ugly and menacing in the last two years, since she had arrived in this world.

Duke Kenjaku had a cursory glint in his eyes as he examined (Y/N) from head to toe. After what seemed to be a lifetime, the Duke gave a grim satisfied nod as he stepped up to stand next to (Y/N), taking out a tentative hand out for her to hold on.

"You clean up decently for a servant girl."

(Y/N) bowed her head down, not wanting to respond to his comment. She had to tread carefully around this man, watching the doors as an empty church hall was unveiled to them; save for two men at the other end of the hall. The Duke plastered a cheshire grin as he began to lead (Y/N) down the aisle.

"I hope you remember my proposal. It would be wise of you not to turn back on your word, lest you would like to face the consequences of your actions."

(Y/N) gave a nod but he squeezed her hand tightly, expecting a verbal response.

"I remember clearly, your Grace."

If she didn't value her life so highly, she would have stabbed him to death. But right now was the start of the plot, the character that drew her in. (Y/N) lifted her head up to take a proper look at the man she was going to marry. The man with a rectangular mark on his nose, his eyes held a world of love. It felt like a stab at her heart because she knew it wasn't directed for her but for someone else he was expecting under the veil.

Her soon-to-be husband was Itadori Choso of Kaprines. Choso was a knight-turned-viscount who fought in the war against Wotrea and was relatively well known. From what she remembered about the story, Choso wanted to marry Lady Yorozu because he fell for her at first sight. However the Duke had another plan in mind hence (Y/N) was in a veil and wedding dress.

She met Choso at the altar. He politely bowed to which she and the Duke returned the gesture. He held out a gloved hand for her to grasp on as she finally stepped up to meet him, looking up to connect her eyes to his; before they turned to face the priest.

(Y/N) couldn’t tell how she felt. It had been three years since she was transported into this world. In that time, she had to quickly learn her role as a maid and integrate herself into society. Once again, she was going to have to do the same thing for she was marrying into nobility. Although the character she transported into was a reader insert so she could have any personality she wanted. And she was glad that of the Jujutsu Kaisen characters she read, she was with the one she liked most, Choso.

She faintly understood what the priest was saying and after what seemed to be an eternity the priest announced to the guests.

"If any person rejects this marriage, speak now or forever hold thine peace."

(Y/N) was tempted to speak out, to scream that she was forced into this marriage, to scream that the Duke was misleading Choso but no words could come to her throat. If she did speak, then worse was to come not just to her but her brother. In this story, Toge Innumaki was her brother. The sweet young man, who was mute in this book. She couldn’t have Duke Kenjaku hurt him. Again. Then came the dreaded words.

"Sir Itadori Choso, do you take Lady Kenjaku Yorozu of Shiuh Shia to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, 'til death do thee part?"

"I do."

"Lady Kenjaku Yorozu, do you consent to Sir Itadori Choso of Kaprines taking you as his lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, 'til death do thee part?"

"I consent."

(Y/N) said all too quickly and it dawned on her that they were now finally married. She now faced her husband, raising her head for him and getting ready for him to kiss her when he turned to the priest with a hushed tone. (Y/N) seemed confused, before it dawned on her that this was the exact moment that made her fall in love with the story as Choso turned back with a big smile on his face.

He stepped close to (Y/N), gently grasping her arms and leaning down to press a soft kiss on her forehead. After the kiss, he leant down to her ear to explain.

"I wish to save our proper kiss for our consummation tonight. I admit I'm afraid that I would act improperly if I were to kiss you on the lips."

(Y/N) felt her heart melt at his caring nature as she gazed at his loving expression, also surprised at his unconditional affection towards her. But deep down inside, where her gut swirled with uncertainty and unease, the affection was not meant for her. The wedding was now complete, Choso stepped down a little distance away so that (Y/N) could say her goodbyes.

"Is my brother safe now, your grace?"

"Your brother is safe. You, however, may not be. You have to pay the price once he learns the truth. After all, your job is to do as your master says."

There was a tinge of threat laced in his last statement. On the one hand, she was glad that Toge was safe but now she realises the painful part of the story that is to start. There was nothing else she could say but to accept her fate as she turned to see her husband gazing adoringly at her.

The Duke stepped away from (Y/N) to talk to Choso, probably saying some false comforting words about taking care of his 'daughter'. After a few brief moments, Choso stepped away from the Duke to go to his wife.

"We are leaving for my palace now. Your effects have already arrived at the palace."

(Y/N) gave a nod and held on to Choso's outstretched hand before being led by him to the carriage that was waiting outside. She was uncertain of what the future held for her now. One thing was certain, she was not going to play the story exactly as she read. It was an angsty story with no satisfaction for romance, but it was written descriptively well and it made her sob endlessly for days. Right now, she needed to tell him the truth whilst finding a way to not be killed.

The both of them settled opposite one another and the carriage set off. The sun was beginning to set as (Y/N) stared out the window, a wide range of thoughts running through her head.

"What are you thinking about, Princess?"

(Y/N) frowned at the wording and shifted her head to turn to Choso, who was leant back against the seat. It was at this moment she finally took a glance at his attire which seemed to make her bashful as he wore a same colour blue blazer with a white shirt and white trousers. A blue coloured shawl with embroidered blue anemones and ravens was draped across his torso and pinned to the shoulder. There were many golden thread embroidery stitches along the hem of the blazer. He had matched well with her and dressed impeccably.

He was nothing like the Choso she knew, though it was a fanfiction story. Only the personality of Choso was here and not his style of clothes that he would originally wear. It was time to forget her old life and start anew.

"Nothing in particular my Lord."

"Call me Choso, Princess."

(Y/N) felt heat flush her cheeks as she stared straight at her husband, torn to say anything.

"If you do not want to then you can whisper it to me in our room tonight."

(Y/N)'s eyes widened as she glanced up at her husband, who had a smug grin. He seemed to revel in teasing (Y/N) or to Yorozu. Maybe Choso and Lady Yorozu were closely acquainted. Wait no, what she remembered was that Choso had fallen for Yorozu at first sight. He didn't know what a truly awful woman she was. Her hands clenched tightly as she said nothing and snapped her head to the window.

Choso noticed this and leant forward to grasp her hand with reassurance, slightly embarrassed that he had scared his wife.

"Yorozu … I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

(Y/N) felt her throat hitch at his apology. In a few hours, he would take back the apology. Choso gave a soft smile and leant back to glance out the window, sitting in silence, as the carriage rode for three hours. It wasn't long before (Y/N) could finally see the palace come to view. It was captivating as the lanterns illuminated the palace walls and towers. It stood tall and proud as the carriage halted in front of the palace doors.

The entrance was empty save for a tall imposing man with blonde hair, dressed in black trousers and a blue buttoned shirt, matched with a beige robe. This man seemed to be important as he bowed at the carriage before stepping forward and opening the door. Choso stepped down first, exchanging polite greetings with the man before turning to the carriage to help his bride step off the carriage. Once (Y/N) got off, Choso closed the carriage door which signalled to the footman to drive the carriage down to the stables.

(Y/N) turned to face the man, who seemed to have a rather grim expression on his face. Choso didn’t seem to notice this as he rambled.

“This is Nanami. He is the head housekeeper and helps me manage the estate. Should you require anything, please ask him.”

(Y/N) gave a polite nod and smile as Nanami graciously bowed in respect.

“It is a pleasure to meet you my Lady.”

(Y/N) curtseyed in response before Choso began to lead (Y/N) inside the palace, rather hurriedly; it was certain that he was eager to spend time with her. The windows brought a glow of moonshine into the palace which made it easier for Choso to see where he was going. (Y/N) was unsure about why he was rushing and it wasn’t long when Choso threw his doors open to a large room.

It was grand and spacious with ivory coloured walls. The walls had embedded designs of arches with gold lining. There was a balcony that was large and concave shaped, a simple bench was at the front and thin gossamer curtains hung across the door. The bed was a four poster bed with pale green bed sheets and embroidered blue flowers. There was life to the room as (Y/N) stepped in to take in the design.

Choso quietly shut the bedroom doors and stepped towards his wife, clasping her shoulders and leaning close to her as if sharing a secret.

“What do you think of our room?”

It suddenly dawned on (Y/N) that this was her room. Her and her husband’s room. Her husband, who thought she was Lady Yorozu. It’s gone on for far too long and he needed to know the truth. She opened her mouth to start.

“Our room?”

It wasn’t what she wanted to say but she felt a tight lodge in her throat that refused to speak the truth. This was silly but Choso hummed as he slowly turned his wife to face him, his heart pounding against his ribs. He needed to be confident for his new wife.

“Yes. Is it not our duty as husband and wife to share a room?”

“That is true.”

“And should they not also share the same bed?”

(Y/N) felt heat grow in her cheeks as she bowed her head to look away, he wasn’t going to let her be shy when he had gained the strength to be confident. He curled a finger under her chin and lifted her face to look directly into the silhouette of her face which was still hidden under the veil. It hadn’t dawned on him that he had yet to take off her veil and to see her face in its true beauty.

“My dear wife. With your consent, may I share my body with yours? As a husband should.”

As he was saying the words, he was slowly lifting her veil up. (Y/N) felt her blood run cold and her limbs froze as she stared into Choso’s eyes. Shock settled over the both of them as Choso lost his joyful loving expression. It couldn’t be. Choso stumbled back, staying a clear distance from her, bewildered by the unknown woman in front of him.

“Who are you? And where is my wife?”

(Y/N) didn’t respond which made him snap in anger, almost lunging forward and reached behind him, pulling a dagger out and pressing the sharp edge of it against (Y/N)’s neck.

Fear began to fester in her body as her body began to convulse with short rapid breaths and her eyes welled up with tears. The cool sharp edge of the knife was pressing into the side of her neck and she was sure that if she moved, he would have easily sliced across and killed her instantly. She fucked up and didn't tell him the truth in time. Choso was shaking uncontrollably with a mixture of fear and adrenaline. He couldn’t believe his eyes as he began to roar.

“Where is my wife?!”

(Y/N) choked back a cry as she clenched her fists tighter.

“Choso I-”

“Don’t call me Choso!”

She blinked back tears and glanced up at the ceiling. She mustered up whatever courage she could and began trying to defend herself.

“Pardon me, my Lord but I am your wife.”

“That is impossible! I wed to Lady Yorozu of Shiuh Shia. The Duke himself gave her away to me.”

“It was me he gave away. Lady Yorozu was never to be wed to you.”

Choso could not hide his disgust any longer as he shoved (Y/N) away from him. He walked over to the bedroom door and pulled frantically at a cord which rang a bell. Within minutes, there was a frantic knock on the door which Choso swung open. Nanami stumbled in with a frazzled expression on his face. His eyes scanned over Choso before wandering over to the hunched figure that was the Lady.

He couldn't comprehend what happened but readjusted his composure to better present himself to Choso.

"My Lord, is something the matter?"

"Yes. Summon Captain Tsukumo and Fushiguro to the dungeon along with Yuuji. Also tell him to bring his interrogation tools. We need it for this wretched woman."

Nanami stared at the hunched figure in shock, almost hesitating to complete his task when Choso stomped over to the woman. He roughly lifted her up to show her crying face to Nanami, who almost dropped in shock. He couldn't believe his eyes as he bowed before running out of the room to raise the alarm.

Choso gathered both her wrists in one hand before pressing the tip of his blade at her lower back. (Y/N) could do nothing but let Choso unleash his anger on her. It's like the Duke said, she was going to pay the price. As she let herself be dragged by her husband. She kept her head bowed and it wasn't long until they were climbing the stairs down to a dark and dingy room.

It had a dreary atmosphere as Choso grabbed a set of keys from the wall, he unlocked a cell door and tossed her in before locking the door behind her. (Y/N) hissed slightly as the palms of her hands were grazed. Her dress was beginning to gather dirt as she pulled her knees close to her chest.

Two haggard voices echoed from the stairs before a bulky man and woman stood beside Choso. Both were dressed in a simple shirt and trousers whilst an expression of worry took hold on their faces. The blonde haired woman spoke first with a gruff voice.

"What happened, my Lord?"

Choso pointed his dagger at (Y/N), a bitter disdain marking his tone as both figures turned to the direction of the cell. The both of them were stunned at the fact that their commander had jailed this young woman.

"This woman claims that the Duke had given her away as my wife instead of Lady Yorozu."

Was it possible? To Tsukumo, she didn't look to be the malicious type to spread slander. Fushiguro too seemed stunned that this delicate woman had the audacity to claim that she was Viscount Itadori's wife. Both Captains straightened their posture and turned back to their commander.

"Where is Yuuji?"

At that moment, a pitched voice rang from the stairs, whining carelessly.

"Eh, calm down, I'm coming. A man like me needs a long rest to better function in the day."

A rather short skinny figure with pink hair stumbled into the dungeon, lugging behind a heavy case which Nanami was helping him carry. Yuuji eventually heaved the case and rested it against the cell bars, before spinning to face Choso.

"What seems to be the problem, big Bro?"

Choso gestured at the cell to which Yuuji turned to understand. Instead of sharing the same shocked expression the other people had, Yuuji had a curious soft expression on his face as he crouched by the cell to gander at the quivering form of (Y/N).

"Who is this young woman?"

"My wife … so she claims."

Yuuji raised a curious eyebrow as he opened up his case. His hands running over the labels of the vials and bottles.

"I see. Well, I hope they didn't treat you too roughly. Now let's see if we can get you to spill the truth."

Yuuji hummed to himself before finding a small vial with clear liquid inside. He shook the vial before pushing his palm through the gaps of the bars. (Y/N) blankly stared at the vial before snapping back to the surprisingly kind expression on Yuuji's face.

"Hey, whatever your name is, drink this vial if you want to show you're innocent."

(Y/N) was hesitant to take the vial but Yuuji pushed his hand further.

"It's a truth serum-"

A relieved sigh left her lips as she snatched the vial to drink the entire contents. Yuuji was impressed by her eagerness as he crossed his legs.

"Right, who are you?"

"My name is (Y/N) Inumaki and I'm Lady Yorozu's handmaiden."

"Okay, (Y/N), how did you become Choso's wife?"

"A month ago, Viscount Itadori sent a proposal to Duke Kenjaku about proposing to his daughter. The Duke was outraged. But he couldn't refuse the proposal seeing it would make him look bad in the noble society. So he made me take Lady Yorozu’s place and proceed with the wedding."

Fushiguro, Tsukumo and Nanami shared a nervous glance but Choso remained stoic to delve further into the truth.

"How did you know the Duke reacted like this?"

"I overheard him complaining to Lord Zenin of Chaycor. It was he who then came up with the idea to use me as a scapegoat so that the Duke could save face in the aristocracy."

"Why did you agree?"

"It wasn't by choice. He threatened to kill my brother if I didn't comply. He didn't care what happened if Viscount Itadori found out my true identity. He said that I would have to pay the price, which I am now."

Everyone else's nerves dissipated into concern over the young troubled woman. They were sympathetic to the fact that she had no choice. Even Choso felt sorry for the young woman as he still couldn't believe the words coming out of her mouth. He decided to ask the next question.

"Where is Lady Yorozu?"

"She is in Jotron. She is staying there so she could persuade the Emperor to marry her."

“Does she know about this?”

“She does.”

Choso’s expression became more grim and grave at (Y/N)’s answers. Almost as if he didn’t like the truth that was being spoken. (Y/N) was surprised that the truth serum didn't bring out the fact that she was transported into this world. Yuuji clapped his hands and stood up to brush the creases off his clothes.

“Right. Now that the interrogation is over, can we let her out?”

“No, I need you to do one more thing.”

Yuuji dropped his hands and grunted to himself about getting back at his older brother, Choso. Once again crouching by his case and lifting out a pouch. He pulled the strings and poured red powder out onto the palm of his hand. He turned to the cell doors with an apologetic look on his face.

“I’m sorry (Y/N) but I have to do this.”

Before she could ask, he blew the powder right onto her face which had her bring her hands up in defence. The powder was ingested into her nose and sticking to her arms and face. Everyone stood still in anticipation as the red powder clung onto (Y/N)’s skin. (Y/N) slowly dropped her hands to also see what the red powder could do. Minutes passed but nothing seemed to happen.

Choso was confused as he gestured his dagger at (Y/N).

“Why is nothing happening?”

“Probably because she has no magic running through her veins and the truth serum worked just fine. Now! Can we take this woman out of the cell and get her washed up?”

Choso hesitated but Tsukumo stepped forward to justify.

“She’s innocent. She’s not the one to punish. Duke Kenjaku is.”

(Y/N) waited with an unsteady breath as Choso exhaled in surender. Tsukumo was right but Choso didn’t want to admit that he had made a mistake. He took a better look at (Y/N) and felt guilty at the way he treated her but he couldn’t trust her. She could have opened up to him before instead of just when they were about to - Choso shook his head and sheathed his dagger, ordering his subordinates.

“Nanami, get her set up in one of the bedrooms and send a maid to help her wash up. Fushiguro take her to the room. Tsukumo, you help Yuuji take the case to his quarters. I will deal with the rest in the morning.”

With that said, Choso stalked away and left the dungeon. Yuuji grinned and gestured to Tsukumo to lift the heavy case. He spun around to face (Y/N).

“(Y/N) sleep well, and I will meet you for breakfast tomorrow.”

Yuuji then turned away and skipped up the stairs followed by Tsukumo who didn’t seem to be struggling with the case. Fushiguro grabbed the cell keys and unlocked the door, stepping in to hold a hand out to (Y/N), an apologetic smile on his face.

“Apologies my Lady.”

(Y/N) took the offered hand and stood up carefully.

“It’s okay, Sir. I’m the one at fault for deceiving all of you.”

The two of them stepped out of the cell, whilst Nanami stepped forward to sympathise with (Y/N).

“My Lady, you should not apologise. You were simply coerced into conducting the Duke's acts. You were doing your job as a servant."

(Y/N) gave a soft smile to the two of them, glad they were able to forgive and accept her quickly. She hoped that her husband would do the same. That's what he is now. She couldn't get angry at him for the way he had treated her, she could have reacted the same as well. She straightened her posture to follow Fushiguro and Nanami. They were walking through the hallway to get to Lady (Y/N)’s room.

She hugged herself closely as the cold air hit her arms. So far she was following the plot exactly, which was not good because it meant that she and Choso were going to die. She decided to ask one of the two men.

"Sir, what's going to happen now?"

The two of them stopped, staring at each other with unease. Fushiguro turned back to glance at the Lady of the house.

"I'm not sure my Lady. However, I do know that he would not leave you stranded."

"I see. Also why do you address me as 'Lady'? I'm not a noble, I'm just a servant."

Nanami adjusted his sleeves as he addressed (Y/N)'s concern.

"Whilst you may not be a noble by birth, you have become a noble through marriage. It is only right that we address you as Lady."

"Would Viscount Itadori see me as a Lady and his wife?"

Nanami and Fushiguro were unsure of what to say. They knew that Choso would take a long time to get around to (Y/N). However, this betrayal seemed to cut him deeper. Nanami wanted to be realistic but Fushiguro cut in with an optimistic attitude.

"With time he will."

(Y/N) accepted this and both men exhaled with relief. It wasn't long when Nanami finally reached one of the guest rooms, opening the door to a modest sized room. The moonlight was bright enough to make the room clear and visible. Similar arches on the wall with a cream and pale green coloured embellishments. The bed was not a four poster bed but had similar duvets to the other room.

"This will be your room, my Lady. Bear with me a moment as I will fetch a maid for you."

Nanami was about to turn around, when (Y/N) grabbed onto his wrist to stop him going. Fushiguro quirked an amused eyebrow at the fact that (Y/N) had grabbed onto Nanami whereas the said man was in shock at the sudden contact.

"Nanami, please. Don't worry about fetching a maid. I can bathe and dress myself just fine."

(Y/N) let go of his wrist as both men clear their throats to face her. The head housekeeper took a deep breath as he tried to speak.

"But my Lady-"

"Please. I just want to be by myself."

Nanami's tired heart faltered as he exhaled deeply and agreed to her request. Both men excused themselves to let (Y/N) get cleaned up as she opened a door next to the bed to unveil a bathroom. The bath pool was on a raised dais, the taps were on the left as she pushed both of them down to let a mixture of hot and cold water fill the tub. There was a small trolley just before the bath, it had a variety of trays with dried flowers of lavender, honeysuckle and lilies. She lifted the tray of lilies and poured it into the bath, turning off the taps and undressing herself whilst the flowers steeped in the water.

As she sat in the bath, she all but hoped that Choso would allow her to stay. She did not want to create a chain of events that brought hers and Choso’s death early. When she read the story, it ended really poorly with the reader dying to a dream of Choso in her arms. This time she was going to change things where she earnt his love and did whatever she could to prevent their deaths.

[chickenkupo]

Giving y'all a little something stuck in my head before I head out to a friendo gathering tonight. Also typing this on my phone so, thoughts and prayers for us all.

Comfort Care

Summary: After handling the incident with the Beret Society, Wriothesley begins to doubt his self-worth. His lovely partner offers him a moment of reprieve to remind him of his true value.

Warnings: A little bit of angst, mentions of trauma. Very light mention, though. I’m also not going to include spoilers other than mention of the Beret’s. That’s about it, surprisingly. I’m currently idle in Fontaine listening to the background music and this came to mind.

The bright blue sky was all he could behold as his head was resting in Neuvillette’s lap, the sun shining down on him and adding to the warmth that his lover’s lap also provided for him. A zephyr breezed by, and he could hear the trees in the distance, their leaves following the motions of the wind and offered a subtle shifting noise that brought him a wide sense of peace.

He then felt a gloved hand petting softly through his untamed hair, light scratches being provided as well as a soft pressure in a rhythmic motion. The more the ministrations continued, the more his thoughts seemed to slow, coming to a complete pause as he was consumed by the sensations. He shut his eyes, sighing deeply and began to feel himself drift away into an uncommon state of peace.

Archons, when was the last time since he was able to lay down and actually rest like this? Long before he was sentenced to the Fortress, which seemed like ancient history to him now.

“Wriothesley, though I admire you for your fortitude and discipline, I must say in some areas, you are certainly still lacking.” His lover said, hands continue to pet him and keeping him in his trance. Taking his words into consideration, Wriothesley frowned as he was about to reply, but was cut off.

“I know you will fight me tooth and nail about this, which is why I’m denying you the right for retaliation. You do not offer to me substantial proof that your character is lacking in any sort of fashion. Evidence submitted to me through observations, testimonies and the full known reputation of the Fortress shows how valued you are in Fontaine. You are called ‘Your Grace’ for many reasons, my soul, and none are of any negative factors.”

Wriothesley felt a shifting of weight below him, Neuvillette’s legs adjusting. He then felt a light pressure on his lips, causing him to open his steel-blue eyes in surprise, to take in the view. Neuvillette had leaned over to provide a soft, loving kiss, his white hair flowing around the two of them, like a light blanket of white rain.

Never in Wriothesley’s life had he felt so cared for, treasured like a fine gem that was found in the roughest pits. The scars of his past literally littered his body, haunting memories flooding through his thoughts at almost every waking hour. But now, that seemed all so distant. Lately all he could think about was this man and their future together. His heart swelled with happiness as he opened his mouth, deepening the kiss. He raised one of his hands, twirling the white hair on one of his fingers, feeling how soft it was.

They continued to share the kiss for a few moments more, until he felt Neuvillette pull away. Wriothesley was about to pout, until his partner continued to share more words with him.

“Wriothesley, I want you to understand that for as long as you allow me, I will do what I can with the powers within me to provide the life you were so easily denied. You will want for nothing. My love for you will never falter, I will support you however I can. Say the words, and it is yours.”

There was a brief moment of silence between the two of them as Wriothesley pondered his words, Neuvillette allowing him as much time as he needed. The Chief Justice knew that the Duke was not used to such affection, but the fact that Wriothesley had not physically attacked him or verbally denied him meant it took root, and was accepted. This made Neuvillette smile.

“Well if you’re not going to deny me anything, could ya maybe start back with the head scratches?”

Neuvillette swore if Wriothesley had a tail, it would be wagging like the happiest of dogs right now.

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Hello, I hope you're doing well today. I have a request if you're up to it.

So I was watching Shrek 2 and I thought it would be funny if you can do a reader who was formally human but married a god (Your Choice) and now became a demi-goddess (idk if that's even possible) and they're living happily. When papa Adam and mama Eve got wind that reader is married, they invite both reader and her god husband to meet them so they can meet her husband (they're not aware reader's husband is a god). Time skip to reader and husband finally arriving to Adam and Eve's home after a long trip, Adam and Eve all smiles upon seeing reader after a long time but Adam's smile instantly drops once seeing reader's husband is a god and finding out reader is now a demi-goddess. Just as you expect Adam is not liking this at all. Fast forward to that awkward dinner scene, the atmosphere is intense. Adam is glaring daggers at god husband and Eve is trying her best to live up the mood by asking god husband questions, trying to get to know him better. However things escalate between Adam and god husband, cue both of them duking it out with the food on the table.

This just came to my mind while watching Shrek and I hope you do this😂, if not then that's fine! I wish you a good day/night! :)

-You hadn’t seen your parents in years, and you were beaming at the thought of hugging them again, after not being home in so long.

-A lot had changed since you last seen them, you had grown to be a beautiful young woman, but you had also turned into a demi-goddess, after marrying (God) when the two of you fell in love.

-(God) smiled softly, seeing you so happy, pressing a kiss to your temple which made you grin up at him before he spoke, “Nervous?”

-A nod was your first answer before verbally responded, “A bit, I’m not sure how they’re going to react with me being married to a god and being a demi-goddess now.”

-He nodded, understanding, your father was a notorious god hater, but for good reason, you were just hoping he would be nice to your husband and see how happy you were with him.

-Your mother was a different story, she was just happy to see you happy, but knew how her husband could be when mad.

-At their home, the front door slammed open and Eve, your mother ran out, “My baby!!!” you ran for her, abandoning your husband as the two of you met in a warm embrace.

-Adam walked out, seeing out and he was quick to embrace you, holding you close before you pulled back, “Mama, Papa, this is my husband, (God)!”

-A record scratch was heard as everything froze, your mother’s eyes going wide and Adam’s eyes instantly narrowing in a harsh glare while you were smiling brightly, silently begging your papa to be nice!

-After helping your mother with dinner, you were praying it was going to be a nice meal; Eve could see how hard you wanted Adam and (God) to get along, just for a bit and admired your determination.

-Eve was more open to the idea, asking (God) simple questions, being polite and (God) relaxed a little bit, answering her and giving her a polite smile, trying to ignore the glares he was getting across the table.

-Twenty minutes later you were in your parent’s bed, with Eve, having just gotten out of the bath, pouting deeply.

-Adam had immediately started making snide comments about (God), angry that you chose a god of all people to marry and wasn’t too happy you were a demi-goddess now. Eve tried to scold him, to get him under control.

-However, (God) didn’t make things better, saying that you were happy with him, and you’ve been happy with him as a demi-goddess.

-It would up dissolving into a massive food fight between the two men, while Eve was yelling and you were sitting there, trying not to cry.

-Showing her intimidating nature for once, Eve quickly got them under control and made the both of them clean up everything, before banishing them to the couches for the evening.

-When you came to her, still upset, she let you sleep in her and Adam’s bed, just like old times, petting your hair, doting on you as you sniffled, “I just wanted them to get along.”

-She patted the top of your head gently, “If they want to make you happy, they will, or else.”

-Downstairs, the two men were sulking, laying across the room from each other, before a shiver went up their spine, telling them a silent threat was lurking.

-The next day you headed home with your husband, you hugged your parents and Eve smiled up at (God), telling him to take care of you, which he promised.

-You were a little surprised when Adam and (God) shook hands, the two saying the same thing, and you thought they were getting along, until you saw the veins in their arms, testing each other’s strength, which made you roll your eyes.

-Once in the carriage home, you leaned your head on your husband’s shoulder, “It was nice to see them, and there wasn’t too much in damage.” He chuckled softly, pecking your head gently, but silently hoped you wouldn’t be visiting for a little while at least.

[raeuberprinzessin]

A Slice in the Life of the Boyfriend of the Daughter of the most eccentric Billionaire's Family of the northern Hemisphere (or The Day Felix arrived late, met his Girlfriend's Brothers and didn't get to drink his Tea)

Summary: Meeting your girlfriend's family is never exactly easy.

AO3 | Masterlist

Meeting your girlfriend's family is never exactly easy. But if your girlfriend is the long lost and only recently found daughter of the probably most eccentric billionaire in the northern hemisphere and has a gaggle of siblings who sounded absolutely crazy from the things she mentioned casually alone, meeting the family wasn’t just an awkward event. Felix felt like an emissary of an ancient kingdom being sent into enemy territory to propose an alliance which would ask the enemy kingdom to give up their most-beloved treasure.

But being a Graham de Vanily meant not to be intimidated by anyone. Not by his uncle in his disturbing villain costume, not by a crime-ridden city and it’s just as crazed rogues and vigilantes, not even by Marinette’s temper. She rarely lost it, but if she did, he really didn’t want to be in her way. She was just as creative with torture as she was with her designing and if he was really honest with himself, he was absolutely intimidated by her, even if he wouldn’t ever admit it. 

He felt this shouldn’t count. She was Ladybug! Freaking everyone was intimidated by Ladybug! At least everyone who saw that one video in which she verbally took apart the Justice League for getting involved without coordinating with the heroes of Paris and almost costing them everything. They were lucky Red Robin and his team warned them and helped them with a plan to counter the adult heroes. He would never forget the way Nightwing looked like a plucked chicken after she was done with them.

At least something good came out of this: With the Titans they gained allies with a serious disregard for boundaries and they were able to learn that his uncle was the weirdo whose hobby it was to possess teenagers and meddle in their petty teenage dramas. Well, he was glad. Had he chosen competent people the heroes would have had a harder time defeating him. Felix wished he could say he was as surprised by his uncle’s hobby as his cousin was, but the truth was that it made too much sense. Honestly, he felt slightly offended to be related to that man, even if it was through the marriage of his aunt.

At least today he would only meet the family’s butler, four of her five brothers and her father. Her foster brother Duke and her sister Cassandra were unavailable.

His chauffeur finally arrived at the gate to the Wayne property. On the way there from the high-class penthouse he and his mother rented for their stay - they were debating finding a more permanent residence, since Marinette would spent a lot more time here and his mother fell in love with the architecture and wanted to make at least one movie here - he had felt like every single traffic light had turned red just as they got there which meant he wasn’t a bit early or perfectly on time. No. He was late. His father had taught him the importance of punctuality. “Being on time is being late,” Gustav Graham de Vanily always said, “but at least you’re technically on time so you might be forgiven if you apologize. But it’s always better to be a few minutes early. But don’t be too early, that’s just as impolite as being too late. Always plan with some spare time, you can always wait outside until it would be acceptable for you to ring the bell. And if you still can’t make it, at least call!”

Well, his father probably didn’t expect that an angry Poison Ivy would rip up almost all streets between his penthouse and Bristol just as he got into the car. Neither would he expect the traffic lights to conspire against him. At least he did call ahead and talked to the Butler, Mr. Pennyworth, who seemed understanding, but also sounded very reserved. Obviously a fellow englishman.

When the car stopped in front of the imposing manor Felix took a moment to take a deep breath and make sure he looked presentable and that his kwami Krrah was still carefully hidden inside his waistcoat. The crow wanted to come along, so they could hang out with the other kwamis in Marinette’s room.

Then he took the flower bouquet he brought as a hospitality gift. Marinette had told him how much pride Mr. Pennyworth took in his cooking and baking and he knew from her parents in Paris that in this case bringing any food would be inappropriate.

Mr. Pennyworth, at least Felix assumed it was him, had already opened the door and watched as he walked up the steps to the entrance.

“Mister Graham de Vanily, I suppose?”

Felix gave him a polite smile and offered a handshake which the butler took after a moment. “Indeed that’s me, Felix Graham de Vanily. Am I correct in assuming that you are Mr. Alfred Pennyworth?”

“You are. May I take your coat? The flowers would be for Miss Marinette?”

“Oh no, they are for the family. Marinette let me know that it would be quite the faux pas to bring anything edible as a hospitality gift,” Felix answered. He has always been quite observant, so he noticed the tiny twitch in the older man’s face. A faint almost smile. He decided to see this as success.

“Very well, then I shall find a suitable vase in just a moment. Please follow me and take a seat in the sitting room, I will inform the family of your arrival.”

The butler took his coat, put it away and offered him a pair of house slippers. After that he led him to a tastefully decorated room to wait for his hosts. He asked him if he could offer him anything to drink and Felix gratefully accepted a cup of Earl Grey tea.

“Psst, Felix!”

Felix looked around before he looked down his waistcoat into the beady black eyes of his kwami.

“I’ll go and find the other kwamis and tell your girlfriend that you’re here,” Krrah declared in a croaky voice. Felix gave them a tiny nod and then acted as if he was checking his appearance again.

When he looked back up a steaming cup of tea stood in front of him. When did that appear? Hopefully after Krrah got away. He very deliberately did not check on his tie pin to make sure it was still there. If someone actually had seen everything, that would give too much away. Instead, he adjusted his cuffs and checked his cufflinks. After that he decided to reach for the tea.

Only for it to be snatched out of his hand. He blinked in surprise and turned in the direction the hand had come from. There stood a dark haired teen roughly his age with icy blue eyes and an exhausted smile. In one hand he held the cup of tea, the other held up a struggling kid by the scruff of his neck like a misbehaving kitten. The image was surprisingly fitting especially when the kid started to hiss insults at the teen, calling him “Drake”.

“I’m so sorry for him,” Drake apologized. “Damian likes to play pranks and this time he seemed to think putting some sleeping pills in your tea would be funny.” At that the boy hissed again and resumed his struggles.

“It is my duty as her only true blood brother to defend Marinette,” Damian declared.

“May I ask what the meaning of this is?” a cool voice came from the door. There stood Mr. Pennyworth with another steaming cup of tea. His right eyebrow rose as he observed the picture that presented itself to him. “Master Timothy, would you please let Master Damian down?”

Timothy sighed and set the child down. Damian gave him a calculating look and then a small knife stuck in the upholstery next to him and Timothy restrained the boy once more.

“Alfred, I would love to let go of Damian, but he doesn’t seem to know how to behave in front of a guest,” Timothy told the butler. “I’ll bring him to Bruce. I’m sorry about the upholstery.”

With that he left and Mr. Pennyworth placed the cup of tea in front of him with a sigh.

“Please excuse the young master. Regrettably he hasn’t had the most healthy upbringing.”

“It’s not my place to voice any judgment,” Felix replied. It didn’t stop him from thinking such judgment, of course. But instead of saying anything else he pulled the knife out and gave it the butler. “Would you please return this to its owner?”

The man nodded and left again. Felix turned back to the tea when the cup was, again, snatched away. This time he couldn’t suppress a twitch at his eyes and turned again to the person who took the beverage this time.

How this tank of a man was able to come in without making any noise Felix had no idea. The man had unruly, curly black hair. The white streak at the front brought to mind the image of a skunk.

“Hm, Earl Grey. To be honest, I prefer any green tea, but it’s good to have another tea drinker here. There are already too many bean worshippers in this house,” the man declared and gave him a roguish grin. “The name’s Jason Todd and you’re obviously pixie pop’s arm candy?”

“Arm candy, that’s a new one. Especially since those I know agree that everyone pales next to Marinette. I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Jason. I am Felix Graham de Vanily.” He offered the man his hand for a handshake and suppressed a wince when that handshake turned out to be a bit more forceful than expected.

“Ah, Felix was it? I have a very serious question for you Felix,” another voice came from the door. Once more a young man with black hair stepped into the room. He grinned good-naturedly, but there was a dangerous glint in his dark blue eyes that had Felix immediately on edge.

“Tell me … what’s your favorite cereal?”

Taken aback Felix only blinked at the man. Jason next to him burst into peals of laughter.

“Cereal?”

“Yes, cereal.”

Felix didn’t know if he was serious or not. “Actually, I don’t eat cereal.” The man gasped as if he had just insulted all his ancestors.

“Then what do you eat for breakfast or as a late night snack?”

“Well, for breakfast I usually eat a boiled egg and toast with jam, marmalade or honey. And I rarely eat a late night snack, but if I get hungry between meals I prefer a greek yogurt with honey, nuts and fruit or simply an apple if I don’t want to put as much work into it,” he explained confusedly. It seemed Marinette’s family was even weirder than she had told him.

“Oh, Felix boy, sounds like you are much too healthy and sane for this family,” Jason cackled.

“I tried to warn him,” he heard Marinette say from behind the cereal-obsessed man. “In or out Dick, but don’t stand around in the doorway.”

The man going by the unfortunate name of “Dick” sighed and stepped inside. Behind him Marinette came in and gave him one of her beautiful smiles. That’s all he needed to remember why he was doing this.

“Hello Marinette,” he greeted as he stood up to come over to her. Marinette grinned, pulled him in and pressed their lips together. After the kiss swallowed his surprised (and plainly undignified) squawk he returned the kiss gently. The two men in the room made noises of discomfort but he realized this was part of why Marinette did it when she grinned into the kiss.

When they pulled back his wonderful, beautiful, brilliant girlfriend smirked at her brothers.

“Remember, I am French, I have absolutely no problem kissing my boyfriend in front of you or dad whenever any of you step out of line. And I can’t imagine Felix disliking my idea of punishing you, do you?”

He shook his head and gave her a conspiratorial grin.

“My lips are at your service, my queen.”