#sins of the father au

[arcuuda]

I died for like half a year or whatever I'm back tho idk

Most recents. I think imma focus more on the dysfunctional and uncanny aspects of my self insert from now on

These ones are the much older ones

Bottom one is an AU I share with my homie @/zackiswack

[porchtart]

look at this ⬇️⬇️⬇️

[heavenlyraindrops]

♱Father Forgive Me (For I have Sinned) ~Chapter Eighteen♱

Lucifer Morningstar x Angel!Reader Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Chapter Eighteen Warnings: profanity Visit the first tag on this post to see all other chapters.

♱ In which the purest soul in Heaven falls from grace… for the Devil. ♱

[Chapter Eighteen]

a/n: holy shit 2k words long? This is worth two whole chapters yall ig that’s how yk shits about to go down

Your feet hit the ground, the darkness of the alleyway shrouding with you with the shadows as you retracted your wings into your back, making them disappear. Peeking your head round the corner, you tentatively stepped out.

You prayed you wouldn’t be too noticeable- surely you couldn’t draw too much attention if you just acted natural. Weaving through the people on the streets, you made your way through the town.

You’d seen it from overhead, strangely one of the only places that seemed more welcoming than the rest of the areas in Hell. Your wings had been aching after spending so long flying that you’d given in and let yourself down.

You tried to not make eye contact with anyone, but accidentally glanced at a couple of people’s faces, noticing the strange lack of eyes, instead pairs of black holes replacing them in people’s faces. Gulping, you kept your gaze glued back to the ground. 

You saw your silhouette flash in the corner of your vision through a shop window, and involuntarily froze, stepping closer to the grass. You looked different.

More demonic.

You tried to swallow the lump growing in your throat as you took in your new appearance, bile rising in your throat before quickly turning away and briskly moving on. 

“Ow!” 

You stumbled back, unable to stop a small curse escaping your lips. A woman stared at you, her knuckles turned white at clutching her umbrella as she tipped her hat back to get a proper look at you, empty black eyes roving up and down your body.

So much for not drawing any attention.

Gulping again, and you tried to squeak out a small “Sorry!” Before trying to hurry around her, but she stopped you, a hand on your arm pulling you back. 

“Are you alright, dear?” She asked, face soft with concern. You blinked. “Your face’s all cut up.”

“Is it? Oh.” You laughed nervously. “I didn’t notice. I-I’ll be fine.” You tried to pull away but her grip tightened. You looked up at her in panic.

“I’ve seen you somewhere,” she said, and now her face had turned serious. You laughed even harder this time, the sound hysterically tumbling from you as you tried to reel the situation back under your control.

“I doubt you have, miss,” you assured her quickly, before turning away, right into someone else’s chest.

You looked up, and all you saw was red.

“Now, I’m sure I have.” She shuffled over to both you and the tall red man. You caught two small antlers poking out from his hair, and stifled a chuckle. “I’m Rosie, and this is Alastor.” She gestured over to the deer. He extended a hand, static crackling in his voice.

“Pleasure to be meeting you, dear,” he grinned. You stared at the hand, before taking it gingerly. 

“And you…” her eyes fixed onto you. “You’re the fallen angel.” 

You opened your mouth but no sound came out. Alastor’s red eyes narrowed onto you. You felt them burning, and looked away as you let out a small, tense chuckle. “Guilty.”

Rosie laughed, slapping a hand onto Alastor’s shoulder. “Oh sweetheart, don’t worry.” Her lips stretched into an even wider smile. 

“We won’t eat you,” Alastor smirked.

“Although you do look delicious.” 

You didn’t know whether to be thankful or not. “Oh. Thank you.”

Alastor’s hand found your arm, nails digging into your skin as he drew you close, linking arms. “But we would like it if you could…”

“Join us for tea!” Rosie cut in. They both shared a meaningful glance.

You looked at the sky, heart thrumming insistently. “It’s getting quite dark.”

“Perfect,” Alastor replied, voice dripping with something sinister as he and Rosie led you through the streets to outside a small café. Rosie’s hands closed around your shoulders.

“We can get you something nice to wear on the way,” she said, glancing pointedly at your torn clothes.

“Lovely,” you muttered. They both smiled.

-

“So. Tell us everything.”

Rosie and Alastor both smiled at you expectantly over the table. You stared at the steaming cups before you, then them, then back at the cups. 

“Look, I…I appreciate this.” You gestured to the table, the tea, your fresh clothes. “Whatever this even is. But I need to leave.”

Alastor once again put his hand on your arm. You stared down at it. “I suggest otherwise, dear,” he said, smile strained and sharp as his eyes flickered with embers. You slowly lowered yourself back into the chair, gulping.

“Tell us. Why exactly are you in Hell?” He knitted his fingers together, face inquisitive. Rosie took a sip of the tea.

“I’d rather not disclose that information,” you said coldly. Rosie laughed.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I think you would.” She smiled sweetly.

You scowled, gripping a tighter hold on your cup. 

“Don’t frown now, honey. You know you’re never…”

“Fully dressed without a smile,” Alastor finished. He leaned closer. “Why are you in Hell?”

You didn’t say anything.

Rosie’s face softened. “Come now, honey. You know we only want to help you.” She placed her hand over yours, and it was soft, warm. Her face held sincerity. “We just want to know what happened to you.”

You sneaked a suspicious look at Alastor, one that didn’t go unnoticed.

“I apologise if I may have come off as…” he waved his hand. “Strong. Off putting.” He sighed. “Believe me, darling, if we had wanted to hurt you or take you by force we would have.” He shot you a meaningful glance. “Most sinners wouldn’t be as forgiving.”

You gulped, a powerful wave of fatigue suddenly crashing over you as the events of the past few days finally caught up to you.

“You can trust us, sweetie,” Rosie said softly.

You dragged your hands across your face. “I…Heaven kicked me out…”

“We can tell,” Alastor remarked. “Why?”

“I got in a relationship with a…” you waved your hand around vaguely. “A resident of this place.”

“Who?”

You chewed your lip, their soft words coaxing out tired and broken answers. “Lucifer.”

The both fell into shocked silence, and exchanged another glance. But you ploughed on, determined to finish now that you had started. “They found out, cause someone-“ Your throat closed up “-tipped them off, and kicked me out.” You rose, spreading your palms across the table. “I need to find Lucifer and Charlie. Lucifer-“ you choked up. “He’ll help me. I know he will.”

“Is your name [name], by any chance?” Rosie raised an eyebrow. You looked at her and Alastor.

“Yes.” Your eyes narrowed.

“Charlie mentioned you,” Alastor explained. He quickly looked at Rosie, and flicked his head in one subtle movement. Rosie’s brows shot up, but she walked away, leaving you and Alastor standing in the flickering lights of the café window. 

“You know Charlie?” You asked, eyes brightening with hope, but your question was ignored.

“I’m afraid I have something to tell you, dear,” he chuckled, adjusting his monocle as he stood up and drew you in by the shoulder. He flicked his cane, gesturing to the darkening streets. “Shall we go for a stroll?”

You stared at him. “Sure.”

You both started off down the street, his arm still firm around your shoulder. “So, Lucifer and Charlie, is it?”

You nodded wordlessly.

“And you think they’ll help you?”

Your stomach twisted with dread, but your chest clenched with determination. “I don’t think, I know.”

He looked at you with pity. It made your shoulders tremble. “I wouldn’t be too sure, darling.”

“What do you mean.” You clenched your hands into fists, fighting to keep your voice even as he broke away to face you.

“I mean, my dear, that they won’t.”

You laughed, but it was forced. “And explain that to me.”

He leaned on his cane nonchalantly, and a burst of anger flared up in your gut. “Charlie… she was the one who tipped off Heaven.” He inspected his nails closely.

“No she wasn’t,” you pointed out sharply. “It was Lute- the general-“ you winced. “-the new leader of the exorcist army.”

“Really? And you think the word of one single person could convince Heaven?” He stepped closer. “What evidence exactly did Lute provide?”

You stared at him. “A bracelet.”

He laughed mockingly. “A bracelet.” Your face burned with embarrassment. “Tell me, my dear, exactly how a bracelet could provide suitable, concrete evidence?”

You thought hard, but couldn’t come up with anything. “It was a special bracelet. It could have raised suspicions-“

“But they would need someone to confirm them.”

As much as you hated this, everything he was saying made sense. And you couldn’t come up with anything to counter his argument. “You’re just a stranger. Why should I listen to you?”

“Whether you listen to me or not is up to you.” His cheshire grin glinted in the dark night. “But perhaps you should simply hear me.”

You chewed your lip. “Go on, then.” You flicked your hand at him.

“As for Lucifer… when you landed here, in Hell, it was on the news, yes?”

You nodded, dread making you feel lightheaded. 

“Lucifer saw, and he simply said that you could help yourself.” He stepped even closer. “That he wouldn’t care if you lived or died- that you had landed here by your own fault, and that you weren’t his problem.” He leaned down to whisper in your ear. “That he didn’t care about you.”

You froze.

“He didn’t love you,” Alastor continued, before flicking his eyes up to your face. “But it isn’t your fault that you’re here, is it darling?” You couldn’t make a sound. “He tempted you.”

“You don’t even know half the story,” you said shakily. “You don’t know the truth.”

“For all you know, he could have set you up.”

“No, no. No… you don’t…” you tried to move away, but you couldn’t.

“If he truly loved you, don’t you think he’d try and save you?”

“You have no proof.” Your fist clenched even tighter, nails cutting into your palm and drawing golden blood. 

“Oh, but I do.”

And with that, he tapped the microphone on his cane. You stood, enraptured, as Lucifer’s unmistakeable voice flowed out.

“I don’t care if she lives or dies. I don’t care at all…” It crackled, then cut to another audio. “No, I don’t love her…” Another. “…someone else…” Another. “[name] isn’t my problem. It’s her own fault she’s ended up here. Try to save her? Are you serious? Just leave her for the Vees.”

The last one was a blow to your chest.

“Love her? Are you serious? She’s just some girl, a good distraction for a while.”

You sucked in a deep breath, then let it out slowly again. Turning away. “I need to go,” you gasped, and before Alastor could grab you you’d flung yourself into the dark night, your mind a storm of thoughts. 

Eventually, the familiar shadow of a building loomed into the distance. The building where the three overlords had captured you. 

They were powerful. They were useful. 

The window was still broken. You flapped your wings as you slowed to a stop, kicking your legs out to lose momentum before dropping into the room, gingerly stepping over the broken glass scattered across the floor. You looked up and around. The room was dark and empty. 

Taking in a shuddery breath, you sank to the floor. 

Reality finally crashed over you.

Tears stung your eyes, sobs bubbling up past your throat as you fought to stifle them vainly. They racked through your body, tears streaming down your face as you covered your mouth. 

Adam died, Lute hated you, you’d never see Emily again because you’d let Lucifer tempt you. You dragged your nails across your skin, relishing in the pain it gave you, the pain that morphed into anger. 

He had tempted you. Had you forgotten who he really was? What he really was?

He was the devil. He was temptation incarnate, and he had sought to lead you to ruin. The burning-red thoughts made your head spin, turning you dizzy with fury. The reason you were lying here, bruised and broken, seeking those who wanted to harm you, was him. 

The anger dissipated, breaking down back into sadness. How could he just leave me like this? Was I a mere distraction? Your heart tore apart. 

He took everything from me. 

The door to the room slowly creaked open, and you heard someone swear, footsteps racing towards you.

“You-“

You looked up. Velvette stepped back quickly, startled. “What happened to you?”

Vox followed soon after her. You searched, but Valentino was nowhere to be found. “Oh, you, great, you’re here. Wait, why the fuck are you here?”

“We’ve been looking for you everywhere,” Velvette chipped. You blinked at her hazily.

“Look, we-“ Vox seemed disconcerted at your strangely calm demeanour, despite your crazed appearance, but ploughed on. “Ignore Valentino. We want you to work with us.”

“Work with you?” You murmured softly. Your lips barely moved.

“Yes. Work.” Velvette looked at you. “You’re an angel. You’re, like, ten times more powerful than any other sinner or overlord here in Hell.”

“You’d be a perfect addition to our team,” Vox finished. 

You looked at them both for what seemed like ages. They both glanced at eachother, wondering if you were going to say anything.

Finally, you spoke: “What’s in it for me?”

“We’ll give you anything you want,” Vox said, voice laced with desperation. “Power, money, safety. We’ll give you anything.”

You hummed thoughtfully.

“Just tell us what you want,” Velvette assured you. “What do you want, angel girl?” You looked up at her, finally finding your answer.

“Revenge.”

[kimageddon]

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Gloves

Seemed like a good idea at the time. He looks good in gloves.

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[ofowlsdinosaursanddragons]

Woe Bede kaijumorpha au lore be upon ye.

Also TOH and EMESIS BLUE reference for the Bede, Eternatus being a shit dad, and two Bedes there.

[selfproclaimedunicorn]

Write me a fic: Per our convo yesterday. I must ask for Regency!Griffith and his meltdown over falling in love in the most reforming your local Rake type way 🧍‍♂️🫡

this 100000000% got away from me & it is now only tangentially what you asked for. I mean, what you asked for is in there, but I couldn't decide which idea I liked more so I had to string them together & now it's a 4.6k word monstrosity.

Griffith paced, mind addled so that he coursed with the nervous energy that apparently plagued most of the men from his mother’s side of the family. It was as unfair as his current situation. “If you keep that up, you’ll wear a rut into the floor.” Aegon mused as he lifted his glass of brandy, examining the amber liquid in the light streaming through the windows of Thorn Hall’s parlor. He’d made himself quite comfortable, sprawled out on one of the sofas to the point he’d made Griffith’s discarded coat slide off the arm and onto the floor. He stopped and stared at his cousin, gray eyes wide with indignation and the wild concern that so preoccupied him. Aegon giggled over the rim of his snifter before downing more than was even half appropriate for a single sip. Griffith clenched his fists, every muscle in his hands flexing. “Would it kill you to be serious for five minutes?!” He snapped. Annoyance with his best friend could at least be identified and be used as an easy target to let out the building steam of whatever issue had his stomach in knots.

“You’re well and truly in a hobble, aren’t you?” Aegon sat up properly now, “Tell me what the trouble is.”

“Mya Redfort is the trouble. At this point in seduction, I would have at least gotten my cock sucked, and yet she is resisting every attempt at anything further than flirtation–it isn’t like I have not charmed her, but I am getting nothing from it!”

Aegon set his snifter on a low table near the sofa and leaned forward, a contemplative look on his face as he rested his chin in his hand, a finger tapping at his cheek. He’d only been married for a year, a decision reached in the immediate aftermath of their friend-and-cousin’s marriage to his sister, and his own previously similar behavior and thought patterns still rang fresh in his mind. Griffith began pacing again, running a hand through his dark brown curls as he tried to puzzle out his problems with and about Mya Redfort.

“I feel sick. Why is nothing working? You will tell me plainly if I have lost my edge, won’t you?”

“You? Griff, you could never lose your edge! What you need to do, is you just need to shift focus. Mya isn’t receptive, so there is no reason to keep going back. Why not set your sights on that Linderly girl with the–”

Griffith stopped his pacing immediately, his stare hard when he looked at his friend again. “How dare you.”

It was silent in the room after that, Aegon blinking slowly as Griffith felt his stomach drop. Realization set in far too late, and he hated it. Or, no–vexed as he was, he could not hate anything that had to do with Mya.

“One Miss Redfort has tamed her local rake it would seem.” Aegon pressed his lips together to try and stifle it, but all he managed was making his grin look ridiculous and tight.

He pointed at his friend, eyes blown wide once more. “Egg–”

“Welcome to the brotherhood! Interesting one to be a part of, quite cozy though. Provides for a very reliable–”

“I am not going to make a fool of myself over Mya like you did with Abrogail.”

“I did not make a fool of myself!” He stood up, squaring his shoulders to try and make himself look more imposing. It did not do a terribly effective job when he was trying to stand toe to toe with Griffith. Aegon was a good five inches shorter and cut a far less dramatically proportioned figure.

“You could not eat, you could not sleep. You eloped with her weeks after Stannis married your sister because you knew whatever Aunt Alicent was trying to arrange to curb your appetites would not make you as happy as they looked. I sat in this very parlor and watched you carry on in calf-love like some kind of barely grown boy-man who'd never known a woman in his life!”

It was silent in the parlor again as all the bluster slowly left Aegon. He sucked his teeth, hands coming to his hips as he looked up at the ceiling.

“I did carry on, didn't I?”

“Yes.”

He paused again, his gaze leveling with Griffith’s once more. Aegon worked his jaw, just as contemplative as before, and then his lilac eyes lit up. Something had struck him, and all Griffith could do was hope that it was brilliant.

“I do not know how much longer I can hold out.” Mya moaned as she slid further down into the chair beside Rhea’s dressing table, her dress riding up to show her ankles and the pink, embroidered slippers she wore.

“It is taking so much longer to get Griffith to fall for you than it feels like it should be.” Abby mused, her elbow propping on her crossed arm so she could put her cheek in her hand. She furrowed her brows, her small mouth pursing into a thoughtful pout.

“My brother is not so easy to wrap around one's finger as Aegon was,” Adrienne rebutted, her tone harsh and clipped, “he is as pig-headed as our mother.”

“I’d be surprised if he was even capable of being aware of any feelings he developed for someone.” Aerea’s words were softer, more airy, than her twin sister’s. That was the only indication the older of them was even paying attention, she seemed more preoccupied with walking her fingers up one of the poster’s of Rhea’s bed.

“You talk as if Griffith has ever felt anything more complex for a woman than lust or brotherly protectiveness,” Rhea said.

Aerea shrugged and leaned against Rhea, her trail up the bedpost left abandoned. “I know him well enough to guess.”

“If the two of you only have negative things to say about your brother, why are you helping me to win his committed affection?”

“Because we like you, and you mean a good deal to our cousins.” Aerea was still leaning hard against her.

“And because it will be better for our brother in the long run if he settles down, and better for us if he stops tarnishing the reputation of our half of the family. I don’t want to be the sister of the man who has ruined every woman he comes in contact with.”

“I am sure it has nothing to do with how good and romantic a story Griffith’s taming would make, right Adrienne?” Rhea teased, bringing color to her cousin’s cheeks. She turned away quickly, trying to hide her flush from the room full of women.

“Friendship with Rhea and Helaena and Abby, and not sullying your debuts with his reputation, and good stories; right, good, motivations in order. Can someone please help me figure out how to make Griffith Tyrell fall in love with me so I can stop pining? I want to kiss him so badly that I am fit to burst, and you two said I should not even do that!”

“Because that is how he will ensnare you, and the next thing you know you are one more in his long string of abandoned lovers, and no one gets what they want except him.”

Mya sighed tiredly. She was resigned to something, although Rhea could not be sure if it was to “her fate” of eternally trying to win Griffith over, or to subjecting herself to whatever the twins told her to do. Whichever it was, both would be over soon. He was as stubborn as his sisters said, that much was true, but he was not completely without all good sense. If Abby had been able to win Aegon over and reform him from his rakish ways, then Mya could do the same for Griffith. He was no worse, he was just craftier and less aware of his own heart.

“What we need to do is plan one big, grand moment that will make him realize if he has fallen for you or not. If we can make this Griffith’s idea, and if he becomes aware of it all at once, he will have to do something about it. That is his way after all,” Rhea proposed.

“Rhea is right!” Aerea sat up all at once, making her wince as she shouted. She shoved her younger cousin's shoulder, grumbling how she hurt her ears.

“Oh, yes!” Abby perked back up at that, her pout turning into a grin that spread across her freckled face, “That is brilliant, Rhea. Between all of us, we will find a way to make Griffith jealous.”

“I did not say to make him jealous.” Rhea clarified, skeptical of Abby’s trail of thought.

“No, but what better way to go about your suggestion is there?” She rebutted, doubling down on her plan of playing to Griffith’s jealousy.

Rhea ran her tongue over her teeth. There wasn't a better way; her father, Aegon, Aemond, even Stannis; none of them were immune to such feelings, so neither was Griffith. Surely. So if there was a surefire way to know if all their long attempts at getting him to love Mya in a truer way than he told all the other young women had paid off while he simply stubbornly clung to the known of his old ways, it would be to see if he got possesively jealous towards her affections.

“Alright Abrogail, what do you propose?”

“Nothing yet, we need a place and time for me to really get a good plot that is likely to work.”

“The ball Lady Johanna is hosting to try and suss out good matches for her girls,” Mya offered, her tone so casual it could have been an off-handed remark, “because it is not like her husband is trying terribly hard to look.”

“Because Lord Jason Lannister is a man with very little going on in his mind beyond his own importance,” Adrienne quipped. Her opinion of her third cousin mirrored every other member of her grandmother’s family, and if it was not so funny to see him live up to those opinions by bumbling through social interactions, a trifle disguised and riding high off his own pomp, Rhea would have felt bad for the man.

“Oh, yes! That is perfect!” Abby took a few steps away from where Mya sat, her hands clasped in front of her chest as a dreamy look entered her eyes, “We will all make sure you are absolutely incomparable, and as soon as we have eyes on Griffith and know he is aware of your presence, you will dance with someone else. A big show must be made of it too, he must see you can easily replace his spot on your dance card. All of the spots, even! He shan’t even have a chance with you tonight unless he begs, because Mya Redfort is not so easily won over.”

“I like your plan, but what if whoever I dance with instead gets the wrong idea and thinks I do want to replace Griffith?”

“Dance with Stannis. The threat of you being willing to do something besides pining for Griffith the whole night is still there, but he is already married and is head-over-heels for Helaena.”

“Rhea, that is so brilliant I could kiss you!”

“Remember Baldric, subtlety is key.” Griffith whispered in his younger cousin's ear before gently pushing him in the direction of the Lannister girls. Whether Baldric was determined to follow in his and Aegon’s footsteps, or start off as seriously as his brother did not matter. Subtlety in his advances and flirtations had served Griffith well, and so it would serve his young protege as he was thrust onto society.

Griffith only made a brief glance towards his cousin as he greeted Lady Johanna's two oldest girls; he was interested in Baldric's progress, but he could hear about it later. He had plans for the night…or well, he had Aegon’s plans (their wording altered slightly so as to be about Mya Redfort instead of Abrogail). This night was for pulling out all the stops, for wooing his blonde beauty and finally winning a kiss “to spur him” into telling her how besotted he was–as if he were so overcome in the moment he had to tell her right then, and had not been fretting for two days over his sudden reform.

Griffith breezed through the crowd, gray eyes sweeping across every gathered face until he saw her. Her gown was red, it usually was at these sorts of functions, with puffed white sleeves and a bodice that seemed to act more as a shelf to push her breasts up than anything else. Tight, blonde curls framed her face, and a comb with red roses held her bun in place. He would have thought Mya looked beautiful at any given point on a Tuesday morning, flushed from laughter at some conspiratorial secret she shared and in one of the day dresses she always wore, her gloveless fingers stained from eating too many raspberries, but tonight she made Griffith nearly forget to breath. If it were not improper, he would be her partner for every dance so that no one else could.

He plucked two champagne flutes from the tray a servant held as he passed by on his way to where Mya stood with his cousins. Appearing effortlessly out of the crowd, her first drink of the night already on offer, was all part of the plan. It was not Griffith being a besotted fool like Aegon. 

“Miss Redfort.” 

Her green eyes, already large and expressive, were wide as she looked up at him. Mya was already flying her colors, her cheeks subtly red and undoubtedly warm. Her pretty, pink mouth opened with a false start, and she pressed her lips together for a thoughtful moment before properly saying anything.

“It is very good to see you this evening, Mister Tyrell,” her eyes flickered to the glass he held out towards her, “and it is thoughtful of you to already be seeing to my needs.”

“I am nothing but thoughtful. And in my thoughtfulness, I came to the idea that, once you were done of course, I could have the honor of your first dance of the evening.”

“My first dance has already been promised to Stannis.”

His head whipped towards his cousin, who looked a bit bewildered for a moment. Then, Stannis’s eyes met Griffith’s, and an easy smile (an expression that would have looked as at home on his younger brother) spread across his face. He had been told the plan, both he and Baldric had because it was the way of things, Stannis knew Griffith was to woo Mya as an excuse to tell her everything. Surely he would not dare be overcome by one of his rare moods of mischief now. His having no taste for “such games” could not mean he would throw a rub in the way, because that would be participating.

“Indeed it has. Sorry, Griff.”

Helaena slipped her hand from the crook of Stannis’s elbow, and he offered his hand to Mya. Griffith seethed as his lady placed her hand atop his cousin’s and let herself be led away. Rhea and Abby giggled as they leaned into each other, and his mouth turned down into a tight, visible frown. Neither of those two were getting the champagne, that was certain, and so Griffith shoved it towards Stannis’s wife. Helaena either did not know or did nor care about what was going on, and happily took the delicate flute of sparkling wine from him.

Rhea grinned, every bit as smug as any of Griffith’s company was capable of. “Why, Griffith–”

He did not wait for whatever Rhea was going to say, silently stalking further into the ballroom so as to continue watching Mya and Stannis. And heavens but Mya was graceful, even if she was dancing with another man. Griffith’s nose scrunched, that should be him she glided about with. What good was a dance with Stannis, anyhow? He was married already and not even half the catch Griffith was. Or, no, that was a disservice to both Helaena and, under circumstances where his head was clearer, his friend; Stannis was not half as good a catch for Mya. He was perfect for Aegon’s sister though, strange as she might be at times.

“You are upset.”

“Shit!” He startled so that champagne sloshed over the rim of his glass. Griffith would never know if it was not being able to hear Helaena’s approach over the music and the gossip, or if it was just her silent skulking that made her able to sneak up on him.

“You are not doing a good job at hiding it,” she continued, voice bland and matter-of-fact, “you never do. You should not be surprised I noticed.”

“I’m not surprised you–shouldn’t you be giggling with Rhea and Abrogail?”

“I do not think what they’re giggling about is funny.”

“Fair enough.”

“It does seem to have worked though.” Helaena said before taking a sip of the champagne that had been meant for Mya.

“What worked?”

“Abrogail’s plan to make you jealous for Mya’s attention; something about you not noticing feelings, and grand conspiracies they all came up with. It all seems silly to me, and I doubt Stannis would have danced with Mya if he knew.”

They could not have schemes, he had schemes! Throwing propriety to the wind in a move that would have probably made Aegon proud, Griffith downed the whole flute of champagne in one go, finishing it just in time to thrust the now empty glass into the hands of one of the Lannister’s butlers. If Mya was going to try and make him jealous in some gambit to–fiend seize it, who even knew what her gambit was! Either way, two could play at this game, and at the end of the night one of them would get whatever it was they wanted.

“Helaena, would you like to dance?”

“I shall pretend I could not hear you, and that way no one can be offended.”

“I’m offended.”

“At this moment, I don’t think you count.”

Griffith scoffed, even more offended now. What had he done to her?! It was not like he’d ever flirted with Helaena, Stannis had wanted her since they were boys and it would not have been right.

“I don’t want to join whatever games you and Mya are playing at, and I don’t think you should even be engaging in them in the first place. They do not make any sense” Helaena paused to take another sip, and then continued, “you are not dimwitted, although you are acting a bit like it right now, you know how Mya feels about you, Griffith. She feels how every woman you’ve charmed feels about you, and you know how you feel–”

“And how do I feel, Helaena?”

“More strongly than you would ever want to let on, if you actually rising to the bait means anything.” And it did, she knew it did, because Stannis’s wife was obnoxiously insightful. Griffith did not respond, he let her stew in how right she was in silence, and after a moment, Helaena continued.

“I don’t know why you cannot just tell her.”

“Because…because.”

She blinked slowly, her light purple eyes boring into him with all the intensity his sister Aerea’s eyes ever carried, or his Uncle Aemon’s. She was waiting for a justification that would not come, because Griffith wasn’t sure there was one.

“So there is no reason you cannot tell her how you feel towards her, just as I said. And you must know that you never telling her will get neither of you what you desire, and that should she move on because you never commit, that you will never be as happy in your rakish behavior as you were before all of this nonsense that has been going on all season ever since you failed to get Mya into your bed the first time.”

“How does Stannis tolerate you always being right?”

“He does not ‘tolerate’ anything, he likes it.”

Griffith and Helaena stood silently next to each other after that, the both of them watching the dancers sweep across the floor. He watched Stannis and Mya, still burning with jealousy because of his infuriating cousins. Helaena probably watched everyone, or if she was watching Stannis and Mya it was not because of jealousy, but because of how well she liked him.

He took his first steps when the final few notes of the dance began, he knew all of the music from these balls as well as he knew the back of his own hand, or as well as he knew how to elicit sweeter sounds from whatever woman he’d set his sights on. Mya Redfort in this case, and in all the cases for the rest of his life. Because apparently these sorts of things were inevitable for his family.

“Miss Redfort.”

“Oh! Mister Tyrell,” she smiled up at him, just as teasing as it always was these past three months, but more knowing than coy, “I presume you are here for that dance? I shall have to check my card, I believe it is already full, or nearly at least.”

“We must talk.” He cut in quickly before she could continue, his hand involuntarily coming to rest on her upper arm. Her cheeks went red again, brighter than before, and an increasingly familiar spark of hope shone in her green eyes.

“Must?”

“It is important, gravely so…please.”

“Alright.” Her voice was soft as a breath, and Griffith dropped his hand to offer Mya his arm. She slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow, and her smile betrayed her excitement. Mya had fully convinced herself she was getting exactly what she wanted how she had planned to get it, but she didn’t because it was Helaena that got him to speak to her plainly, not whatever she had plotted with Rhea and Abby. Griffith at least had the satisfaction of that.

“I'll make sure Lady Johanna does not see the two of you leaving and send out a chaperone.” Stannis whispered before side-stepping between two gathering groups of dancers and making his way back into the throng of guests in the ballroom. He was a good and reliable chap when nerves or a bout of humor that came at someone else's expense did not overtake him.

Mya clung to Griffith’s arm as they made their way through the ballroom and out the side door that led into the manor’s grounds. The gardens at Casterly weren't much in comparison to Thorn Hall, but they were nice enough, and it wasn't like the pair of them were there to take in the scenery. They remained silent when they stopped in front of the fountain, the only sound the quiet splash of water from the lion's mouth falling into the basin at its stone paws.

Coming up with what to say had felt easy when he schemed with Aegon, it was so much more intimidating to think of what to tell Mya when saying plainly how he felt loomed before him. Griffith had never been so true in any of the pretty words he so easily spun for the women who came before her, and now that he meant everything it felt like every word he’d ever known left him. Mya brought her hands to clasp in front of her chest and turned to face him, it was now or never.

“This evening has not gone at all how I planned it to, but it has still brought me to the ending I wanted…or at least something similar.”

“Us being alone together hardly constitutes you having your way.”

“I did not bring you here to–blast and damnation–Mya Redfort, I love you!”

“Truly?” Even though this was what she'd wanted, she sounded surprised and disbelieving. Mya, it would seem, had not planned this far either.

“Deeply, madly. For months I have thought about, have wanted, no one but you. It is as if you have bewitched me…and it frightens me. I do not know what to do with such sincerity, except to offer it to you and hope you will have it. And–and hope you will have me; mind, body, soul, whatever you desire of me, Mya, you shall have it. I would not want to give myself to anyone else.”

“Oh…oh, Griffith,” her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, but she smiled all the same, “I love you too. I have loved you.” There was weight there. She’d been harboring such affections for him for months at least. Had it been years? He hoped not, Griffith did not like the thought of Mya silently pining as he flirted and fucked his way through dozens for three years; disappointing her as he carried on so. No, he would banish the thought. It didn't matter now. This moment was all that mattered.

He gently cupped her cheek, and she leaned into his touch. “Would you marry me, if I asked?”

“I would. And…and would you stay and still mean all of what you said if I let you kiss me?”

“Wild horses could not drag me away.” His gaze did not break from Mya’s as his hand slid from her soft cheek to her jaw, his thumb resting under her chin so he could tilt her head back. Her eyes were wide and wanting, and she parted her lips as Griffith leaned down to kiss her.

Mya kissed him back, firm and hungry, as her hands came to his chest, her fingers curling into the fabric of his coat as if that would hold him in place forever. As if she needed to go to that much effort.

They were breathless when the kiss broke, and Griffith put his forehead against hers as he gently ran his thumb over her lower lip. His other hand went to her waist, and he wanted desperately to pull her as close as he could, to guide Mya into grinding against him. 

“I love you, Mya.” No amount of times he could tell her would be enough to satisfy him.

“Enough to kiss me again?”

“For that and more.” He did as she bid, teasingly brief, as his hand dropped from her jaw and came to hold her waist like his other. Mya pressed her lips together into a tight frown, her brows furrowing over her pretty green eyes. She released his coat and held his face now, pulling Griffith’s mouth down into hers to kiss him how she had meant.

He smiled into the kiss, truly being in love only changed a handful of things really, and walked Mya backwards until her knees hit the basin of the fountain. She sat there, dragging Griffith with her so he loomed over her.

He leaned on one arm, his hand flat against the smooth stone of the fountain basin and placed close enough to Mya that his thumb was against her hip. His other hand came to her thigh, giving it a brief squeeze through the satiny fabric of her red gown. Griffith would not push her for more than this, he could make himself be satisfied if she wanted to wait for their engagement or even their marriage for anything more intimate, but he could still relish in touching her and silently pray for more. He was still getting what he wanted after all: turning Mya Redfort into Mya Tyrell.

[tsotf-fic]

♚ chapter 1 - when stars collide ♛

iii. the ward

As they approached the party, Y/N gasped. The palace itself matched the over-extravagance of the partygoers: hundred-foot-long velvet tapestries depicting the glory of the Empire decorated the front of the former Jedi Temple in a way seemingly designed to mock its ancient history. The statues of ancient Jedi sages had long been torn down, replaced by a single statue of the Emperor looming over the center of the stairway. Stormtroopers flanked the sides of the building, stony and unmoving, threatening any onlookers who would dare to step a toe out of line.

"Are there normally this many stormtroopers stationed outside of the Imperial Palace?" Leia asked, careful to sound as innocent as possible. It wasn't entirely fake; stormtroopers were nonexistent on Alderaan, so any eavesdropper would assume she was purely unaccustomed to their presence.

"It is standard protocol," Her father responded, and then he lowered his voice. "Although... something about this doesn't feel quite right to me, either."

Y/N shivered. Without saying anything, Leia intertwined their fingers, not quite grasping her hand but still holding on to her as they ascended the palace steps.

A crimson-plated protocol droid stood off to the side of the massive doors at the palace entrance. The palace guards had their staffs crossed, blocking entry to anyone who dared to enter uninvited. Not that anyone would–palace security had a reputation for being both impenetrable and merciless, and although there hadn’t been any incidents as of late, no one dared to find out just what the repercussions would be. There were rumors, however. It was best not to think of them. 

The droid straightened up as they approached, greeting them in a posh, mellifluous voice. “Greetings, loyal citizens of the Empire. I am L-3PO, official Imperial liaison between organics and robotics, tasked tonight with welcoming guests to this most wonderful event. I’ll have to check to see that you’re on the guest list and verify your identities–this will only take a moment!” 

Datapad in hand, the droid scrolled through with their stylus, and Y/N could only begin to imagine how long the list was; just how many planets, and people…

"Presenting the Alderaanian Delegation,” L-3PO said, reading from the illuminated screen. “Her Majesty, Queen Breha Organa, and His Highness, Viceroy Bail Organa.” 

The royal couple bowed and made their way through the doors, pausing just behind the entrance to wait for the girls.

L-3PO spoke again. “Her Highness, Princess Leia Organa, and…?” The droid looked over at Y/N skeptically, mechanical eyes glinting, and she froze. Leia’s eyes flicked between Y/N and her parents nervously, silently begging for their help as Y/N stood unresponsive.

Breha looked over at the frightened girl and stepped in. "Lady Y/N Alde, our ward."

"Oh–my deepest apologies, Your Highness, it took a moment for my database to recognize her face! Forgive my slight malfunction," L-3PO apologized, and the guards backed away, lowering their staffs. "Her Grace, Lady Y/N Alde."

A flame rose to Y/N’s cheeks as she stepped forward, praying her makeup would hide her humiliation as she went to join her party. A few sympathetic glances were thrown her way, but she chose to ignore them, save for the eyes of the princess–eyes that held no patronizing pity. Only anger.

fanfiction by @kaleidoscope1967eyes

[arcuuda]

I can’t stress how much I meat ride Freddie Dredd. Gotta conjure His demon fr

[mstarcreates]

I saw a fan art of Captain John Price dressed as a Catholic father and it…turned into this lol. Maybe more to come.

Phillip Graves never considered himself a good man, in fact he had never really cared if he was. The only thing that had ever mattered to him was getting the job done and doing it right. Men, women and children, they were all nameless, faceless targets to him. Just another paycheck in his bank account.

Until the nightmares started.

Graves reaches his breaking point after having multiple nightmares where he’s being chased by a ghostly hooded figure in a skull mask. The episodes get so bad, he wakes up shaking, chest tight and unable to breathe. It’s like he can still feel those cold boney skeletal hands on his skin, tearing into his flesh.

The only thing that ever seems to sate it is tequila, he drinks it until he blacks out every night. Until he can no longer hear the reaper in his dreams, calling his name. He wakes up hungover, head splitting in two. It’s like his left eyeball is trying to free itself from the confines of his skull and it hurts like a bitch. He looks up, seeing a line of people and realizes he had passed out in the street.

He watches as the crowd slowly filters into the building he was leaned up against, confused as to what the hell they were doing here. Phil stumbles to his feet, blinking up at the beautiful church. At the entrance, greeting each person that came inside was a tall man, with a clean beard and warm chestnut eyes.

A sign from God, if there ever was such a thing.

[heavenlyraindrops]

♱Father Forgive Me (For I have Sinned) ~Chapter Twenty♱

Lucifer Morningstar x Angel!Reader Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Chapter Twenty Warnings: profanity, mentions of abuse Visit my pinned post to see all other chapters.

♱ In which the purest soul in Heaven falls from grace… for the Devil. ♱

[Chapter Twenty]

“That girl’s idea of ‘redemption’ is idiotic and… well, blasphemous.”

Charlie’s eyes welled with tears. Lucifer stared at Alastor’s microphone in shock. 

“It’s no surprise she’s come up with such a stupid idea. I suppose she takes after her father.”

Lucifer started towards Alastor, face murderous, but Vaggie had to stop him.

“Wait, let it finish,” she pleaded. Lucifer batted her hand away but didn’t move after that. Amusement glittered maliciously in Alastor’s eyes. 

“I am going to burn that hotel to the ground,” your voice said.  

“That’s it.” Lucifer snatched the cane out of Alastor’s hands, snapping it in half and tossing the remnants to the side. Charlie spluttered.

“Dad!”

Alastor sighed. “I knew I should have shown it to just Charlie. I apologise, dear,” he said, taking Charlie’s hands in his own. “It’s truly a shame you couldn’t have seen through her sooner.”

Charlie shook her head. “No, no… I… she said she believed me.” She clutched her chest, looking at everyone else, face broken. “She said she thought I was right. That she supported me.” 

Lucifer gritted his teeth, eyes still trained on Alastor. How fucking dare he try and lie, try and fake your voice, to try and run you through the mud. How dare he hurt Charlie any more than she already was. “[name] would never say that.”

Alastor quirked a brow. “And how would you know?”

“Fuuuuck you,” Lucifer hissed. He raised his hand but Charlie grabbed it, pushing it down.

“Dad, listen. How do we have any proof Alastor’s lying?”

“I fucking know he is,” Lucifer snapped. 

Charlie shook her head vigorously. “Dad, no. Please just listen-“

“She’ll be coming to the hotel. She’ll be after all of you.” Alastor cut in, the voice of reason. He eased Charlie away from Lucifer, putting an arm around her shoulder, and smiled thinly. “I suggest staying away from her.”

Lucifer looked at Vaggie, who looked stricken, and flashed her a look. She pressed her lips together and looked away. He turned to Husk, who simply dragged a hand across his face.

“I’m too fuckin tired for this,” the cat demon mumbled, dragging himself away to retire for the night. Lucifer turned back to Charlie and Alastor. 

“I’ll find her,” he said suddenly. 

“I advise you against it, Your Majesty,” Alastor sneered, but Lucifer ignored him, instead turning to Charlie. 

“I’ll find her, talk to her, clear this up.” And stalked up to Alastor. “And if I find out you’re fucking lying, trying to be some fucking slick bastard, you’ll end up just like your ugly cane- microphone- thing. Snapped in half. Got it, tampon?” He stabbed a finger into Alastor’s chest, making the man’s eye twitch.

“Crystal,” came the reply.

“Dad…” Charlie sighed and turned away, clutching her arms. Lucifer rubbed her back, steering her away from Alastor and up the stairs.

“Let’s get some sleep, Apple Pie,” he murmured. “It’s been a long night.”

Charlie nodded, too tired to reply. 

-

“You look so cute, babes,” Velvet almost purred, hands patting down your skirt. You sighed, readjusting the hem of your black top. “You’ll fit in perfectly with us.” She smirked, winking, and grabbed the back of your neck to drag you in for a selfie.

You watched her post it, not bothering to check what the caption was and instead walking around, checking out her studio. “I like your, uh… fashion stuff.”

Velvet hummed. “Right?” She looked at you up and down. “You know, you’d make the perfect model.”

“Thanks.” You rubbed your arms, not knowing how to react until Velvette grabbed your arm, tossing some more clothes over her arm and dragging you to the door. 

“C’mon. Val wants this stuff for his shoot.”

-

You’d opted to sit outside the studio doors, pulling out a cigarette Velvette had tossed you beforehand as you sat on the low, crumbling wall with the night air biting into your skin. You’d never smoked, but might as well start trying now, right? You were in Hell, after all. You looked up to the night sky, the white spot of salvation floating in it. 

“Need a lighter, toots?”

You looked up, to see a tall spider standing before you, a pink fur boa wrapped around his shoulders. He smiled, waving a lighter at you before tossing it. You fumbled to catch it.

“Uh, thanks,” you muttered, flicking it on as he clambered onto the spot next to you. 

He took an drag on his cigarette, and you took one on yours, immediately inhaling too much smoke. You tried to smother your coughs with your fist, yet unable to avoid catching an amused look from him.

He held out his hand for the lighter. “Never smoked, huh?” You handed it to him, shaking your head. “Yer supposed to breathe in slowly, baby.” Smoke curled from his lips as he spoke, before the remnants shooting out as he exhaled sharply. 

You took another drag, and breathed out slowly. “Thanks,” you muttered. “Say, what’s your name?”

“Angel Dust.” He crossed your legs, looking at you proudly as if you were supposed to gasp, or squeal, or something. You just stared at him. He raised an eyebrow. “Dontcha know who I am?”

You shook your head. “Just got here… like, today, so…”

Angel checked his wrist. “It’s one AM, toots. Musta been a long day, then, huh?”

“Mhm…” you didn’t have the heart in you to talk about it. 

“Well, I’m an actor, toots.” He winked, and you didn’t have to ask what kind of actor he was to realize. He flicked his head at the building next you. “I work for Val.”

“Cool.” You pressed your cigarette to your lips thoughtfully, gazing into the night sky. “I work with Val.”

Angel Dust stared at you. “You what?”

You looked up. “I work with Val,” you repeated.

“Since when?”

You shrugged. “Since an hour ago, I’d say.”

Angel stumbled up and away from you. “You ain’t an overlord.”

You frowned, some negative feeling buzzing in your gut at his reaction, so stood up and squared your shoulders. “Not yet I’m not. But you can expect me to make my-“ you held up two fingers, smirking, “-second debut on six-six-six news by the end of tomorrow.” You dropped your hand, as realization dawned over him. 

“Holy shit. You’re the angel.”

You blinked. “I- yeah.” 

He furrowed his brow. “And you wanna be an overlord?”

You smiled stonily. “That seems to be the best plan of action for me down here.” You swept your hand at Pentagram city, bright against the sky. “I mean, what else is there to do down here?”

“You could get redeemed.”

You froze.

“No,” you spat suddenly, whirling on him. “I don’t want to get fucking redeemed, and I’m not going anywhere near that hotel.”

He blinked. “So you do know Charlie.”

You laughed dryly. “Sure I do. And she’s got some explaining to do.”

He frowned, reaching out to you half-heartedly, then dropping his hand. “What do you mean?”

You turned away. “She’ll know what I mean.”

Angel clamped his lips together. You didn’t say anything further.

“Angel, you fucking whore you have spent way too long out there!” Valentino almost screamed, voice muffled by the thick studio walls. Angel’s face seemed to freeze with panic, until he took a shaky breath and tottered back inside the building, throwing one last glance at you. 

“Angel Dust,” you said quietly. He looked up. You raised your head. “What does he do to you?”

Angel stared at you, unable to talk. 

“Does he hurt you?” You prodded.

After a few moments of silence, you gave a wan smile. “It’s okay.” You walked up next to him, and turned to him. “We go inside together.” Grabbing his hand and squeezing it. “He can’t say anything if you were with me.”

“Thanks,” he muttered, wiping at his eyes. You wiped the smile off of your face and stared ahead.

“Consider it an apology for my little outburst earlier,” you said. Angel Dust nodded. 

You both stepped inside. 

[sinigangsta-ao3]

chp. 4 - "sins of our fathers" (rival gang eremika au)

READ ON AO3

rating: explicit (fic ongoing)

pairing: eremika (with minor background relationships)

tags: modern rival gang au, enemies to lovers, forbidden love, age difference, sociopolitical issues, racism, economic disparity, political corruption, family dysfunction, smut, angst, bit of a low burn...

chapter preview:

“You are meant for more than the small-town politics that we are all steeped in now.” Kiyomi looks toward their car, now pulled up to the curb. “Your uncle knows it. Your cousin knows it. Both clans in their entirety know it. We’ve readied you as best we can, and we are ready for you now. This is your time.” Mikasa tastes warm iron. Sometime amidst her aunt’s speech, she had gnawed the inside of her cheek raw. She runs her tongue over the damaged tissue. “What if—“ The words whither on Mikasa’s tongue when Rin appears at her side. He wordlessly beckons for the garment bag. Mikasa gladly relinquishes it. But the heaviness remains. Mikasa’s throat feels like sandpaper, coarse and painful. She forcefully swallows to lubricate her vocal cords, to enable speech as Rin returns to open the door, to assist Kiyomi into the car. “What if I’m not ready, Aunt Kiyomi?” Her voice is sharp and gasping, as if she had been drowning. “What if I don’t want this to be my time?”

[kaleidoscope1967eyes]

Dark Prince Luke Thoughts™:

(Image Source)

Tagging: @stonegoldsxcrxt, @myevilmouse, @dexthtoyounglings, @laserbrains, @ancient-stardust, @hansonveggieclub, @fandom-gal44

In my version of the popular AU, Luke is the Crown Prince of the Galactic Empire. The galaxy knows him as the son of Sheev Palpatine and Padmé Amidala (yuck!); this narrative was perpetuated by COMPNOR to garner wider support from those who idolized the late senator. The story goes that Padmé was murdered by the jedi because they were against her secret affair with the chancellor, but Darth Vader was able to save their child at the last minute.

Luke was raised at Varykino by the Naberrie family in accordance with Naboo tradition. They were his only true source of love during his childhood, and they helped him to be in touch with his culture. He grew up under the watchful eyes of his two Noghri bodyguards, Ahkelar and Arakhmil; despite their gruff exteriors, they are very caring. When he isn't on Naboo, he is often at the side of Darth Vader, his mentor and protector. Vader is stern and cold by nature, but he refrains from actually harming Luke. Luke both respects and fears Vader, viewing him as more of a father figure than Palpatine could ever be.

Palpatine's reasoning behind Luke being the Crown Prince is so he can be the poster boy for the Empire, as well as to torture Vader with his presence. Vader's son--the son he thought he lost--is alive, and Palpatine stole him. However, he is secretly training Luke to eventually overthrow the Emperor; as much as Luke hates the man he thinks is his father, he isn't elated about eventually taking his place. Palpatine's ultimate goal is to have Luke 'succeed' him while he would still be pulling the strings behind the scenes, but Vader wants him dead.

Vader was entrusted to train Luke in the ways of dark side, but not in the ways of the Sith so he wouldn't be a threat to Palpatine. This was followed to a certain point; while Vader didn't train Luke in the ways of the Sith, he also didn't exclusively train Luke in the ways of the dark side. Vader doesn't want Luke to be truly evil because he knows it would break Padmé's heart--he did it once, and he never wants to do it again. Ultimately, Luke doesn't see the force as being separated into the dark and the light, he just sees it as the force because that is what he was taught. Luke has multiple lightsabers that he made and collected--yellow, orange, pink, purple--but no red lightsabers, as he uses the dark side but isn't truly a darksider.

[turquoisesea01]

AAAAAHHHH ITS THEM!! ROYAL AU VIRGIL AND ASUYA (Vidya in this Au lol) BUT AS GENDERBEND!!

Their parental and child dynamic makes me cry

*weeps* they’re so cute.

Asuya/Vidya belongs to @kilbit

[ren-lui]

[selfproclaimedunicorn]

AU: Rhea and Daemon Hallmark Movie

You are unhinged for this 😂

Prompt

● All Rhealla Royce-Targaryen wants is for her parents to stay together, but when they announce their plan to divorce in the new year/after Sevenmas it feels like her world is crumbling! She tries to hatch a scheme to get them to stay together & fix their marriage, but nothing seems to stick

● Meanwhile Yorick notices that his girlfriend's smooth-talking Uncle Vararo has been making eyes at his mom, & that she's been reciprocating ever since the announcement of the divorce. Yorick immediately goes to Ella to try & help her schemes, because his mom can't date his girlfriend's uncle. That's too weird

● The twins try to trick their parents into going on a date (a la The Parent Trap), but Rhea & Daemon notice what's happening & both firmly tell their kids that the divorce is happening before leaving.

● On the first day of Sevenmas, Rhea & Daemon are arguing as Aemon & his older siblings sit at the top of the stairs with their dogs, trying to comfort each other. As the argument continues, mostly about the turkey being burnt because Daemon got impatient & turned the oven up too high, the siblings take their dogs outside to run around, but Yorick’s gross dumpster dog breaks free & hops the fence. The siblings take off after him. Rhea & Daemon notice their kids have gone missing, & they go to find them. The kids are fine, obviously. Working together & also Daemon forcing people to part for them so they could just fucking book it at one point & Rhea chewing some guy out for not having the Sevenmas spirit & helping them/telling them where he saw their kids + Yorick’s gross dog work their magic, & as they both hug their kids it seems like Rhea & Daemon see each other in a new light.

● We cut to the final scene where we see closeups of walls getting painted, & Daemon moving boxes around. But then we zoom out to see that the marriage has been fixed & Ella got what she wanted because Daemon isn't moving out, & they're actually putting together a nursery for the forbidden fourth sibling that only exists in these absolutely unhinged AUs where these 2 somehow work out

[tsotf-fic]

♚ chapter 1 - when stars collide ♛

i. sisters

"Are you sure the feathers are necessary?" Leia asked as her attendant droid, WA-2V, laced up the back of her bodice.

A cloud of white feathers and lavender tulle surrounded her waist and delicately floated to her feet, giving her the appearance of some ethereal being from an old fairy tale.

"It is a costume party," replied Y/N, who was also being fitted in a matching gown. "Besides, I heard feathers are very good for diplomacy."

Leia glared at her, only for the two of them to immediately burst into giggles afterwards. Her deep brown eyes reflected a softness that only Y/N knew; only together could she truly be vulnerable without ever feeling weak or threatened.

However, vulnerability usually referred to dropping the prim-and-proper-princess persona in favor of mischievous girlishness.

The rather flamboyant costumes they wore–which were based upon Alderaanian swans, the heraldic animal of House Organa–were for the upcoming ball for the Grand Vicennial Celebration of the Empire. Holonet News predicted it to be the 'party of the century,' but Y/N had her doubts. Sure, events like these were politically important, but the whole ordeal was just another gross display of the veneer of Imperial wealth and power.

Queen Breha, who oversaw preparing the girls for the ball, placed her hand on Leia's shoulder with playful sternness. "Now, girls, in spite of our opinions of the Empire, it is crucial that the two of you take this event seriously–especially you, Leia."

"I know, mother. It is my duty to represent the Alderaan system with grace and dignity."

"Exactly. And don't think you're free from responsibility, Y/N. You're the sole heir to the House of Alde, and its reputation rests firmly in your hands alone."

"I guess I should be dressed as a thranta, then," Y/N sighed. As fun as it was to be descended from the original namesake of their planet, she didn't like being reminded of the fact she wasn't an Organa.

Breha noticed Y/N's change of mood and gave her a reassuring smile. "If that is what you wish, I can have it arranged. However, I think it is rather charming to have you and Leia in matching outfits."

"And I don't want to be the only one stuck in feathers," Leia retorted.

Y/N turned to face the mirror. Her hair, like Leia's, was done up in plaits encircling her head. A pair of white wings stretched out over the sides of her braids, and from the center extended a chain of pearls ending in a teardrop-shaped jewel of lilac chalcedony at the center of her forehead.

"Why aren't you in a silly costume, mom?" Leia asked, crossing her arms.

"I'm dressed as the Queen of Alderaan. I'm already silly enough," Breha said with a wink. "Now, if you two will excuse me, I have some business to attend to elsewhere. WA-2V, please make sure the girls are ready within an hour."

"Yes, your majesty," whirred the gentle mechanical voice of WA-2V as Breha hurried out of the room.

Y/N turned to Leia and shrugged. Even though Breha was the ruler of the planet, they were always the ones who had to dress up and essentially be put on display at any sort of political gathering.

It wasn't entirely a bad thing–the inner child in Y/N still enjoyed the charm of dancing in beautiful gowns at glittering balls. Ironically, it was one of the few instances where she didn't shy away from being in the spotlight.

Leia, however, had quickly outgrown that sense of romantic naïveté.

"I still have no idea how we're going to dance in these dresses without falling on our faces," Leia whispered.

"We'll just have to be as light and graceful as swans," Y/N whispered back.

"Yeah, right."

fanfiction by @kaleidoscope1967eyes