#the burning emperor

[jaggybot3000]

yeah fuck you *melts your ice emperor*

[puffywiz]

"Anuhe."

Some divine highness au... for a treat.

[ladybirdswritings]

HUNTRESS, FIC — emperor geta x reader.

DESCRIPTION: the blood of the emperor’s brother is on your hands, a betrayed huntress facing death in the colosseum. your every move watched by the vengeful emperor who loathes you as much as you despise him. but amidst blood, betrayal, and survival, hatred begins to twist into something dangerous. NOTES - little enemies to lovers fic !! leave me all your thoughts and opinions. i love them <33 | prev part ; next part

two;

“Let go of me!” Your growl came out as more of a cry as the barbaric, mindless men who served the emperors—no, emperor (thanks to you)—dragged you by your arms toward the throne room.

Your knees burned crimson, scraped against the cold, unforgiving floor.

You felt him before you saw him, your stomach plummeting to the floor.

Rage.

The scent of sugared pastries and rich wine made your mouth salivate in protest, your stomach curdling. You were so hungry, and yet, despite your victory, you were still locked away in a cage.

“Uumph—” The air was knocked from your lungs, your ribs burning as your face met the floor.

But they weren’t dragging you anymore.

Blood trickled from the corner of your lips, and you spat it out, clenching your jaw as you raised your head, brushing your hair from your face.

And there he was.

Legs spread, eyes bored, a woman on his lap, another at his feet. They licked at his skin lazily, suckling kisses to express their utter devotion. It made you sick.

You narrowed your gaze, and he did the same.

“Look at you, huntress.” The emperor hissed the word, and it took all your restraint not to lunge at him. The guards would surely stop you, but even a single drop of his blood would be enough to sate you.

He looked at you with unimpressed hazel eyes, nose wrinkling at the sight of your filthy skin. His finger gently traced the pale rouge on his lips, smudging it.

“Don’t. Call me that.” Your teeth were clenched, your voice a caged beast as his gaze dropped to the blood trickling from your lips.

He snapped his fingers, and a guard approached. You tried to shake your head away, but he was too strong, pinching your chin and roughly wiping the blood from your lips.

“Well, it’s what you are, isn’t it? A huntress? Sister of a gladiator—”

“One you slaughtered.”

Then came the worst sound: a laugh, cold and twisted, echoing through the gilded throne room. His mindless women mirrored him, and for a moment, you imagined a violent end for the puppets he played with on his throne.

“Slaughtered? It’s not at all my fault that your brother forgot how to survive in my coliseum.”

Rage scorched your bones, and you could no longer hold yourself back. You lunged with a growl, but the guards stopped you with a swift, iron kick to the ribs and neck. Eyes spinning round the throne room, you saw him raise a hand.

“Pin her there.” He commanded, and they obeyed—kneeling on either side of you to keep you caged, your struggles growing lazier as you wore yourself out.

Where could you run to?

Tears, hot and heavy, threatened to fall, but you held them in. Angered tears, yes—but you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of thinking otherwise, even through your blurred gaze.

Your mind was still made up.

A brother for a brother. Despite his show of superiority, his twin was buried too deep for him to ever find peace. So, your death would offer nothing to him but dissatisfaction. Maybe he knew that.

Slowly, he approached, lips lifting into a smirk as he descended the marble steps and kneeled before you. So close to the man responsible for it all, yet so caged. You squinted, trying to hold back the tears, growling as you bucked against the guards like a rabid beast.

Geta tilted his head.

“Look at you. Fighting so hard to show me how strong you are, hmm?”

Your lips swelled with the effort of withholding emotion, your nose beginning to run. You tucked it away with a sniff, chin held high, jaw clenched. You wanted to plunge your own blade into your chest when a tear slipped free.

“Oh,” he murmured, his eyes following its path lazily. Then, with cruel slowness, he raised a finger, gently swiping the tear from your cheek. He wrapped his rouged lips around his finger, suckling away the damp trail of your emotion.

Your eyes widened, but you masked it with another defiant buck against the guards.

“That’s okay, my huntress. Let it out.” He taunted.

You growled through pressed teeth and swollen lips, and he grinned, a devilish slice of the moon upon his lips.

“I’m not your anything. You will never cage me. I’d sooner plunge my blade into my own throat.”

His amber brow shifted upward at that revelation, pondering your words for a moment. Then, without warning, he reached forward, plucking your golden, ornate blade from its hilt.

“This blade?”

You were wild now—trapped like a horse held back by reins, a snake in an iron cage. You writhed, desperate to free your prized possession from his grasp.

“Oh? Did your brother give you this? It would be awfully poetic if I killed you with it, hmm? If I—perhaps pressed it right there…” His finger brushed the blade’s edge against your neck. “Obedient now?”

Your bucking stopped the moment he flicked the blade free from its weathered case and pressed it against the delicate pulse of your throat.

He grew quiet, his eyes darkening a fraction, sending a shiver up your spine. His veined hand pulsed around the hilt, and he pressed his forehead to yours, his gaze pinning you more than the blade ever could.

“You took my brother from me, little huntress. And your death, though I’d revel in bathing in your blood—won’t satisfy my hunger quite enough…” He shivered the last words, and every curve of the throne room faded as he tilted his head against yours. You were paralyzed, weak—afraid—and you hated yourself for it.

“Hmm? So, I’ve opted to take other measures.”

You felt the scrape of the knife at your jugular, his eyes dark as they focused on the soft skin there. One push forward and your blood would stain his shiny floors, but it never came.

Blood trickled onto the blade’s tip, and he suckled it onto his tongue before throwing the knife aside, as if it were a worthless object.

Your breath shook as you glanced toward it. The guards held you back when you moved to retrieve it.

“Let her go.” He waved lazily, and the barbaric men hesitated before glancing nervously at you.

It was either a test or a gift from the gods. Test, most likely—but even so? You’d fail with pride, as long as his blood stained your hands, even if just a lick of it.

“Do as I say!” He growled, and immediately, you were free, your arms aching from where they had been bound. The awful, grand prints of their hold stained your skin.

Now, it was your turn to hesitate. Your knees ached, and you looked up at his wicked, cruel smirk, your knife now clutched in your trembling hand.

A moment passed.

Then another.

Fuck it.

You lunged. He must have raised another commanding hand, for the guards didn’t stop you this time.

In a swift motion, you grasped your blade and began to climb the precious marble steps toward the traitorous throne.

For the people of Rome.

What utter horseshit.

For the power of Rome seemed more fitting. It was the last thought you had as you lifted your blade with a guttural cry. He wasn’t a gladiator, but he seemed bored as you neared—his guards drawing their bows in haste.

Close, so close. One step further and your blade would pierce that alabaster throat. He’d gurgle on his own crimson, and you’d grin as the arrows pierced your heart. Sated.

He stopped you with a movement so quick and smooth it made your head spin. He towered over you, gripping your wrist with such force that pain shot through your arm, and the blade slipped from your grasp.

His free arm wrapped around your waist, and you bucked against him like a caged bird, but he was unfazed, letting you tire yourself out. As your struggles grew weaker, he tightened his grip, leaning down to whisper in your ear.

“You’re making a scene, huntress.” His voice was low, steady, as he held you close.

“Let me go—” You gasped as his ringed hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing so tight you dropped to your knees before him, looking every bit as obedient as his other mindless subjects.

He leaned over you, a sadistic shadow falling over your face, blocking out the sun—your freedom.

He spoke through clenched teeth, his eyes wild, and it was the first time his resolve slipped.

“You’re making a scene, and you killed my brother.” His face was red as a ruby, spit falling from his mouth as he hunched over you, hand still wrapped tightly around your throat.

“You and I both know you don’t wish to die. Look at you—look at you when I tighten my grasp around your neck.” You gasped as the pressure increased, burning heat tearing through your throat. Tears of struggle blurred your vision as you kicked in protest, proving him very much right against your own will.

“Yes, you’re afraid. And you’re lucky. Because death would be too kind a consequence.” The pressure lessened, just enough for you to breathe, but then he squeezed again. Would this be your end, strangled by the same hands that showed no mercy for Pietro?

“Breathe, pet. I intend to keep you alive a while longer, for my entertainment—and for the entertainment of Rome. They love you, little huntress. A weak, pathetic thing fighting to avenge her dead brother. So much so that you killed—an emperor."

The haze of panic descended, your mind blanketing over with a numb, chilling sense of finality. His grip tightened as if savoring your suffering.

"You will starve, and you will thirst. You will ache a pain so great, you will beg for death. But it will not come. Not until your flesh and bones cannot withstand the cruelty my gladiators will inflict upon you in my colosseum.”

A pinch settled between your brows as his words sunk in, and with each cruel syllable, anger bloomed like fire on your skin. Your body heated, and in a moment too quick to grasp, you gathered spit in your mouth and mirrored his earlier actions-spitting in his nasty face.

He winced, stopping the guards as they moved to pin you again. You cried out like a wounded animal as he threw you with force to the floor by your pretty and purpled neck, wiping your spit from his powdered face.

"Take her away." He growled, frustration spilling from his every pore as he towered over you.

Though the guards dragged you away, fury clutched your mind and fear gripped your heart.

The distance between you and him did nothing to wash away the dread that clung to you, suffocating.

Emperor Geta would be your end.

[captainkirkk]

I'm normally a very slow reader of published novels, but I devoured The Hands of the Emperor by Victoria Goddard and now I can NOT stop thinking about it.

Everyone who has read my Fire Lord Zuko content knows how much I love 1) people of power working tirelessly to make the world a better place for all; and b) kings, slowly being crushed under the weight of their crown and duty, finding love and care in their loyal servants and staff

Except this story is more. The Emperor is worshiped and treated as a god, bound by extreme taboos and protocols that he can't break. It's about his staff (his found family) looking BEYOND the exterior of godhood and finding the human being underneath - who is dying under the weight of being the Emperor - and deciding to reach out, even if by acknowledging his humanity they are technically breaking many laws.

God this book is about so many things, including:

Found family can be the Last Emperor and his senior members of staff

The Emperor learning how to be human again with the help of his friends

There's no romance in this book. The deep friendships are the beating heart of this story, and they very much Love each other.

Breaking down a previously corrupt imperial empire through hard work and radial reforms, leading to sweeping changes including UNIVERSAL INCOME

Embracing cultural heritage, even in the heart of the imperial palace. Our main character is both one of the highest ranking members of government and from an islander culture, and he dedicates himself to both

The struggle for your family (who have a case of tall poppy syndrome, and live far far away from the capital and palace) to see you as a respected adult and understand all of your (many, MANY) achievements, even when you're very literally brought the Emperor home with you.

This book has some BEAUTIFUL confrontations, take-downs, and revelations based on the past two points (and more). If you underestimate or insult our main character, You Will Regret It. Watching him lose his temper is a glorious thing to behold.

Anyway I'm pretty sure this just became my all-time favourite book, because it's beautifully written and touches on all of my favourite tropes.

[chaos-of-the-abyss]

i go absolutely completely totally just a little bit insane when i think about tearza and the red emperor. him building a statue in her honor despite it all. his disbelief and devastation and rage and grief when he realizes what she did to herself, just like nezha's disbelief and devastation and rage and grief when he realizes what rin did to herself. history moves in vicious circles

[getaandlucius]

A brief taste of honey (emperor Geta story)

Geta is being held captive by Lucius and becomes sad and depressed after his brother Caracalla gets killed. Someone unexpected (Lucius/Paul Mescal) takes care of him. Fluffy/smutty. Please leave a comment if you want another part 💕

Themes: war, love, male intimacy in the ancient times

Warnings: nudity, a little smutty, fluff and mentioning of depression

On his way back from the training grounds to his private quarters, Lucius encountered Marcella, one of the servants assigned to Geta in his new imprisonment: a spacious room in the south wing.

“Lucius, you can’t be serious,” she protested, ignoring any regard for rank or propriety and grabbed him by his arms. “You’re putting me in a room with him? You might as well throw me into a cage with a wild animal!”

“There are two guards posted outside and two inside,” Lucius replied calmly. “If he lays a finger on you, they will intervene.”

“Why me?” she demanded.

“Because he needs a woman’s touch. No—your touch. You’re a healer, intelligent and empathetic. As vile a person as he may be, and as poor a ruler as he was, he needs that now. I need him to survive and regain his health.” He kept to himself that she was also very beautiful, and knowing Geta appreciated the finer things in life, he hoped he would listen to Marcella's soft words and advice.

“Fine. But if anything happens to me, it’s your conscience.”

“I’m aware,” Lucius replied sincerely.

A week later, Lucius returned from a diplomatic trip to Ostia. His first stop was the south wing to check on Geta’s condition.

To his surprise he found Marcella and Athena sitting outside the room with the guards, working on some needlework.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked, knitting his brows together.

“Oh. He begged us to leave the room,” Marcella replied, straightening her shoulders. “We didn’t protest, to be fair." she added. "We couldn’t bear the crying anymore—well, wailing, really.”

“He’s also refusing to eat—or bathe,” Athena added, wrinkling her nose. “He’s getting rather… pungent.”

Lucius groaned softly. “Has he eaten anything at all?”

“Some fruit, I think. But he complained about the variety offered.”

Lucius nodded grimly and ordered the guards to open the door.

Inside, Geta was perched on the windowsill, his head drooping. When Lucius entered, Geta lifted his face, revealing red, tear-swollen eyes and damp cheeks.

Lucius walked over to the window and stood before him. “What is it that you want, Geta?”

“To die,” Geta replied in a voice still thick with tears.

“No. Anything but that.”

He met Lucius’ gaze. “That’s all I want.”

“Starving yourself won’t bring your brother back,” Lucius said, keeping a safe distance to avoid an outburst.

“No,” Geta murmured, his voice breaking. “But it might bring me to him.”

“Don’t speak like that.”

“Just… leave me alone. I want to be alone,” he replied, voice heavy with exhaustion.

“What you need is a bath.”

“No.”

“You smell.”

“I couldn’t care less.”

Lucius sighed, lifting his hands in the air. “Fine. I’ll leave then." He bent a little forward. "After you drink some water, at least.”

Geta didn’t respond so Lucius fetched a cup, holding it out until Geta finally took it, sipping slowly. Lucius found himself staring at his face, the stark contrast of his eyes against the fairness of his skin and hair. He was such a strange creature to look at.

When the cup was empty, Lucius took it from him. “I’ll return in a few days.”

----

Three days later, Lucius found the room quiet. Marcella and Athene were in the sunroom, reading.

“He’s still asleep,” Marcella warned as Lucius passed by.

It was late in the afternoon. This was a bad sign.

Lucius stepped into the sleeping quarters, his eyes adjusting slowly to the dim light. The air felt heavy with the stillness of sleep. Geta’s right arm hung limply over the edge of the bed, the other tucked beneath his cheek. He was still lost to the world, his features slack and unguarded. The skin of his bare back gleamed pale as marble against the deep blue of the linens, a thin sheet draped over his lower half.

Lucius hesitated, then knelt next to the bed. He reached out to shake Geta’s shoulder gently. His skin was warm under his fingers. When Geta didn’t stir, Lucius shook harder.

“No,” Geta croaked, voice thick with sleep, turning his face away. “Leave.”

“It’s nearly evening,” Lucius said. “You’re going to bathe and then join me for supper.”

“I said no.” He moved to the other side of the bed.

Lucius groaned in frustration. Without warning, he bent over the bed, grasped Geta’s arm, and hauled him toward the edge. Wrapping the sheet more securely around him, he slung Geta over his shoulder.

Geta shrieked and kicked, his protests ringing loudly through the halls, but Lucius held firm. Ignoring the wide-eyed stares of Marcella and Athena, he marched toward the bathing house, taking a shortcut to avoid prying eyes. He had no interest in feeding the gossip that already thrived in Rome.

At the bathhouse, Lucius considered tossing Geta into the water, sheet and all, but thought better of it. He suspected Geta knew not how to swim and didn’t want the hassle of fishing him out. Instead, he set him down firmly on his feet.

Geta clutched the sheet tightly, his eyes darting toward a group of men passing nearby. Lucius followed his gaze and decided to drag him to a smaller, unheated bath at the back, one rarely used by anyone.

“We forgot the cleaning supplies.” Lucius remembered then. “ ’ll fetch some from the servants.” Geta gave a brief nod, and Lucius left.

When he returned with honey, oil, and a soda mixture for his hair, he found Geta had not moved an inch.

"Go on, then," Lucius ordered.

Geta hesitated, clutching the sheet. It made Lucius uncomfortably aware of the situation. Nudity was commonplace in their world, but something about this moment felt strange and a little wrong. Lucius turned his gaze to the wall as Geta let the sheet fall to the ground. After a moment, Geta's hand drifted into view, reaching out for the flask of oil. Lucius handed it over and looked away again as Geta began rubbing it into his skin, wondering to himself why he was still standing there like a statue instead of just leaving him to it.

After a while, Geta placed the flask back into Lucius' hand, but instead of reaching for the strigil, he came closer and stood before him, his back facing him and his head bent forward slightly. Lucius frowned in confusion, then realized that Geta was wordlessly asking for help.

Lucius inhaled sharply and tensed, dropping some oil into his palm. He was well aware that this was not his responsibility. There were male and female servants available who could perform this task. Yet, he found himself dutifully starting to apply the oil to Geta’s skin—beginning at his neck and then moving down between his shoulder blades. He kept his touches clinical, distant, not letting his eyes wander. He was simply helping him, he reminded himself.

As he was working with his hands, he was taken aback by the smoothness of Geta’s skin. It was so unlike his own, softer than most women’s he had touched. It felt like the skin of a peach—easily bruised, and delicate like silk. He applied some pressure, and heard Geta’s breath hitch slightly, as though he feared being hurt. Lucius wanted to tell him it was okay, that he could relax and trust him, but he kept his mouth shut. He let his hand drift lower, reaching Geta's lower spine, where he lingered for a moment -almost shy, not daring to move any further.

When Geta’s back was covered, Lucius took a jar of raw honey and began rubbing it into his skin, mixing it with the oil to moisturize and smoothen it. He then took the bronze strigil and began softly scraping the mixture off.

Lucius swallowed when he reached Geta’s buttocks, awkwardly gliding the copper over his skin, briefly dipping into the crease. He even knelt down to reach Geta’s calves.

No words were exchanged—Geta simply allowed him to do it. When Lucius finished with the back, he handed the strigil and honey to Geta.

“You can reach the rest,” he murmured in a low voice.

Geta met his gaze, and said, "Thank you." There was a strange pride in his air, in the way he held his chin. A new-found confidence, while Lucius' had weakened.

Lucius gave a nod in acknowledgment. "Meet me in the dining hall after you've washed off." He replied and left, cheeks flushed with the intimacy of the moment.

Next part:  Part 4

Thank you for reading! If you’d like to read more: there are two previous parts on my page. If you’d like more parts, please leave a comment 💗

[incorrect-primarchs-quotes]

Ps. I'll never read another book about the Sisters after I finish this one.

[golden-coven]

I know that there is not a single witch burning in Wethersfield, Connecticut cause every one was hanged, but I wanted to practice drawing fire.

100% brain dead rn frfr

Vertical close up ⬇️

[queereads-bracket]

Queer Fantasy Books Bracket: Round 2

Book summaries below:

The Burning Kingdoms series (The Jasmine Throne, The Oleander Sword, The Lotus Empire) by Tasha Suri

Author of Empire of Sand and Realm of Ash Tasha Suri's The Jasmine Throne, beginning a new trilogy set in a world inspired by the history and epics of India, in which a captive princess and a maidservant in possession of forbidden magic become unlikely allies on a dark journey to save their empire from the princess's traitor brother. Imprisoned by her dictator brother, Malini spends her days in isolation in the Hirana: an ancient temple that was once the source of the powerful, magical deathless waters — but is now little more than a decaying ruin. Priya is a maidservant, one among several who make the treacherous journey to the top of the Hirana every night to clean Malini’s chambers. She is happy to be an anonymous drudge, so long as it keeps anyone from guessing the dangerous secret she hides. But when Malini accidentally bears witness to Priya’s true nature, their destinies become irrevocably tangled. One is a vengeful princess seeking to depose her brother from his throne. The other is a priestess seeking to find her family. Together, they will change the fate of an empire. Fantasy, epic fantasy, politics, romance, adult, secondary world, series

The Hands of the Emperor (The Hands of the Emperor, At the Feet of the Sun, and other stories) by Victoria Goddard

An impulsive word can start a war. A timely word can stop one. A simple act of friendship can change the course of history. Cliopher Mdang is the personal secretary of the Last Emperor of Astandalas, the Lord of Rising Stars, the Lord Magus of Zunidh, the Sun-on-Earth, the god. He has spent more time with the Emperor of Astandalas than any other person. He has never once touched his lord. He has never called him by name. He has never initiated a conversation. One day Cliopher invites the Sun-on-Earth home to the proverbially remote Vangavaye-ve for a holiday. The mere invitation could have seen Cliopher executed for blasphemy. The acceptance upends the world. Fantasy, secondary world, politics, romance, adult, secondary world, series

[al-luviec]

These are going to be very inconsistent ...

[calebsrottingcorpse]

Gonna tell my kids that this was Kid Belos

[meangreennunseen]

When you make fun of little weird child who was forwarded as only competition to your Psyker talents and that child over few years grows up into a titan of the man and surpasses you on any level possible.

Also he's kinda cute in the weird way...

[cultofthewyrm]

Imperial Fists vs Khorne Daemons by Igor Sid

[ravenwriter16]

Star's Don't Shine They Burn, Info!

I wanted to post about each of the MAIN characters in my fic! SOOOOOOOOOOO, HERE WE GO!

Y/n:

YOU are THE main character of my fic. I won't get too deep into your past (Spoilers) but what you should know is that you are a Mage, you had a crappy childhood before being found by the three Automatrons, and a MAJOR incident caused you to finally run away from your Royal Life with Sun, Moon, and Eclipse.

You ran away, caught a one-way boat out of the capital, and hitchhiked a wagon. There you meet a 'Straight-to-the-point' Ogre, who lets you stay with him for a price.

There you learn all kinds of new skills, skills that don't require magic. For eight years you live a peaceful life, taking over the land while the Ogre-Ivan-went off to travel the world.

You also have a stutter that only comes out when you're very scared or uncertain of something.

Sun:

Sir Sun is your (ex) Dad. He's one of the three emperors that rule over the land.

He can wield Mana, just like his two husbands can. He mostly uses it as during combat, either as a defense or an offense.

Sun is the leader of the Celestial Guard, an order of Knights he founded when he was crowned emperor.

He LOVES to do arts & crafts with you. As well as teach you how to use a sword, how to size up an opponent, and how to use your wits during a battle. He also encouraged you to be adventurous and would often get you both in trouble

He was the one who lead out scouting missions himself to find you when you ran away. He's also the one who finally tracked you down after meeting with an informant

Some things he would say: "Out a bit more elbow grease into your swing, Bunny! There you go! Look at you! A born natural!" "You're doing great! Just DON"T LOOK DOWN!...AND DON"T TELL YOUR PAPA OR FATHER!!" "It'll all be okay in the end, sweetie...Someday you'll see..."

Moon:

Mage Moon is your (ex) Papa. He's also one of the three emperors.

His mana is more potent than Sun's and his knowledge of the Mystical is second to none.

Moon is the Head Mage of the Academy of Mana, where he also leads an elite group of mages called the Order of Lunara. All mages that serve in the order are trained by him personally.

He was the one who found you in the first place, sensing an unknown and unheard-of power in you (Which I will explain in later chapters). After a few more trips to your run down home, he decided to take you to the palace, were you met Eclipse and Sun.

Moon was also the one who taught you to read and write, as well as how to control your Mana and cast simple spells, such as creating a small flame, or making something levitate.

When you ran away, he locked himself in his study, trying all kinds of spells and runes to see if he could find you or any trace of your Mana from any complicated spells you might have used.

Some things he would say: "The pen is mightier than the sword...But a Mana infused Stone Golem trumps any pen you use." "Shh, it was only a nightmare, Starlight. I'm here and I'll never let any nightmare touch you again. I swear." "The pain is only temporary...Know that this hurts me more than it hurts you...It'll be okay...just a few more minutes..."

Eclipse:

Alright...This Automatron...is basically the one in charge of the WHOLE empire. He's the main emperor because he does ALL the Royal stuff. He doesn't have an order he teaches or guards he trains.

He just does all the paperwork and goes to meetings and such and such.

His Mana is WAY more potent than his husbands. And his knowledge on the dark arts is astounding. In his free time, he even does small experiments, jotting down results in one of his many journals.

He instantly fell in love with you when your first met. After that he immediately called you his heir and gave you everything and anything you could need and desire.

You would mostly spend your days with him, since Sun and Moon were busy with other people and Eclipse was bored with paperwork.

You both would have tea together, go shopping in the city market, settle down in the library and practice your reading. You would learn everything there is to know about being a princess and he even taught you how to dance and play instruments.

When you ran away, he went...well MAD. He searched for you high and low, paranoid that someone would know where you went, or was keeping you prisoner. He would imprison and torture anyone who he thought was keeping you from him.

Multiple times Sun and Moon had to calm him down when he took thing sway too far. Like attacking a visiting royal for no reason.

He was fuming by the fact that he couldn't go out there and search for you himself, but his husbands convinced him to stay and run the Empire.

Some things he would say: "One, two, three. One, two, three. Excellent work Starfire! At this rate you'll be the best dancer in the entire Empire! HaHa!" "I know, I know. I'm sorry I can't play with you right now, love. But I have to look over these reports...hm...Why don't you sit down at the piano over there and play me one of your songs?" "I. Regret. NOTHING! Everything I have done; I have done for YOU!" That's enough of my info dumping! Hope you've enjoyed!

[utilitycaster]

Do you think that Laura and Marisha are deliberately making their relationship somewhat toxic and unsustainable or do you think they see the relationship as healthy? It is just so different from all of the other relationships they have been a part of and not really in a good way. Would love to get your perspective on it if you have one

I am honestly unsure. I would like to say it's deliberate. Prior to it becoming canon, in fact, I, and a lot of other people who were less than enthused by Imogen and Laudna's romance and weren't entirely sold from the start, made the case that we expected they would be talking to each other and would put together a compelling story, not the dull fluff so common in fanon. While whether it's compelling is a subjective judgment, we know for a fact they didn't talk to each other. We know for a fact Marisha was surprised by the question of "Can I kiss you," and Laura was surprised by the answer. We know from a 4SD not long after (4SD #16, Kiss and Tell) that several episodes later they still hadn't talked. We know that Marisha perceives Laudna as holding Imogen back (and that Laudna perceives herself as doing so) from the Rose City Q&A. We know that from 4SD #20 (Episode Twenty) that Laura doesn't like conflict in narrative and Marisha does, and that Laura was thrown by Laudna's regression following Ashton's attempt to absorb the shard (4SD #19, Shard Candy).

I don't know if it's deliberate or not; I don't have any extra insight that isn't public knowledge any fan can easily access. But man, it doesn't feel like these are two actors on the same page about what's going on.

I've touched on this before but mostly in tags or whisper posts but I've always felt ill at ease with a number of for lack of a better term "fandom-approved opinions" and one of the ones that has baffled me the most is this idea that Marisha and Laura have exceptional chemistry. I watched Campaign 1 knowing the endgame ships but deliberately avoiding the fandom, and Vex and Keyleth did not even once occur to me as a thing. I watched the first year of Campaign 2 without a ton of fandom interaction because I was avoiding additional C1 spoilers and it seemed crystal clear that the obvious ship was Beau and Yasha; it felt like Beau and Jester only even had enough potential for me to multiship it as my general "whomever Jester picks" for like, 30 episodes. And yet people - people who didn't even ship either of the above ships and in some cases disliked them- would just say "oh man I can't wait until we get to a campaign where we can finally explore Marisha and Laura's incredible chemistry!" and it's like. I feel like I'm the kid in the Emperor's New Clothes on this! I understand that chemistry is to an extent a matter of taste and subjectivity, but it just increasingly feels like people looked at two campaigns of tables where Ashley was frequently absent and said "well, if I want an F/F ship that's between two of the women in the cast, I guess this is what I have to work with" and repeated to themselves that a flat pamplemousse La Croix was a Piña Colada until they started to believe it. I mean if someone wants to explain it to me in good faith I suppose be my guest and I will try to take it in, but it feels like people just treat this as incontrovertible fact and if you doubt it they're like "don't you have eyes" and it's like, well, pretend I don't. Explain like I'm eyeless and five because I have never understood this. They both have more chemistry with every single other cast member; it's not all romantic but man, I didn't even buy Laudna and Imogen as platonic best friends of two years. I have never had this problem with any other pre-existing character relationships Marisha and Laura have played, platonic or otherwise. It's literally just them. I just never feel like they're quite on the same page.

Back to the relationship between Imogen and Laudna onscreen, this was easily the best conversation since the start of the gnarlrock fight, and it is my hope it doesn't fizzle out the way that did. You can't keep kissing Laudna whenever she fears she's lost forever to Delilah, Imogen. Or you can, but that won't fix the problem. Again: are you disgusted? Do you feel betrayed? If you're not, why did you say that? If you are, how will you move past it? Do you want to be with someone who never feels like they're good enough for you? Laudna, do you want to be with someone who, no matter what they say, you feel you're holding back?

Early in the campaign, my feeling was that of our current situation, switched - Imogen felt her powers were a burden and a curse and Laudna kept referring to them and to her glowingly. It's just...ships passing in the night, no pun intended here. I hope it's on purpose and whatever comes from it is a good story - and either a tragedy or a happy story could be a good one. But I have a nagging sensation that Laudna wants out but is afraid to say no, and Imogen is afraid to let go, and I honestly don't know if the actors have realized this impasse and how the characters might resolve it, one way or another, besides the insufficient bandaid of a kiss whenever the conversation gets too uncomfortable.

[ifyourereadingthisblinktwice]

just finished the poppy war trilogy what the FUCK WAS THATTTT