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seraphdesire · 2 months ago

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Regarding Donna Beneviento and her characterisation in the fandom, I think it's important to note that she really isn't the shy awkward adorable blushing mess that everyone depicts her as being.

This got long but I did a mildly extensive read on her character under the break! :)

Here are the notes I took a screencap of, written by Mother Miranda, which talks about the suitability of Donna being a vessel for Eva:

There's the evidence you need that she is severely mentally ill, so babying her just feels... wrong anyway, all things considered.

Note - "and has divided her Cadou among her dolls in order to control them from a distance." While I'm on my 3rd replay of re8 I still don't fully get how the Cadou works, but what I think is essentially happening is Donna is literally splitting off parts of herself and putting them in her dolls.

The main one being Angie, of course.

I always used to consider Angie a separate character entirely but she's linked deeply to Donna on a very personal level. Considering what she's like and what all the other dolls are like - loud, funny, sarcastic, rude, etc - and how Donna is literally the one directly controlling Angie (that's the only way she moves lol, because Donna is carrying her places. Which is also why, when you kill Angie, the illusion melts away to reveal that you've actually killed Donna), I think it's safe to say that's what her actual personality is like.

Also, her only spoken line of dialogue? Please listen to it. For those who are hard of hearing, like me, she says: "don't leave... I can't let you."

Bearing in mind the way she speaks? Her tone? She sounds confident imo. Determined. And perhaps even a little angry at Ethan for thinking he can escape her.

Just a last addition as well, can I say that her abilities as one of the Four Lourds is genuinely evil? Everyone else has physical intimidation - Alcina has her height and her claws and mutation, Heisenberg has his ability to control magnetic fields and metal, and Moreau can mutate into that huge fish-with-legs thing that vomits something akin to acid? Oh yeah and he can swallow you whole too.

Donna, on the other hand, doesn't have physical intimidation like that. She only has the threat of psychological damage (which makes sense considering she's severely mentally unwell). When Ethan goes through her gardens and has to solve the puzzles in the house, she makes him hallucinate about his wife whom he thinks is dead, and about his baby who is somewhere in this unknown country with a bunch of mutants who only have bad intentions.

It's even worse in the Shadows of Rose DLC imo. As Rose, Donna makes her hallucinate the bullies from back home, being called a freak and a weirdo, made to relive the worst moments of her life. And the puzzles too? Hell. Having to actually recreate the scenes of her bullying with wooden fucking dolls. I remember feeling really sorry for Rose while playing through that part.

And yet Donna is still "the uwu baby" because what? I don't know. People love to declaw female villains just because they're attractive (looking at Lady Dimitrescu here). They love to reduce the characters down to their looks and not consider their actual lore or background or the role they play in the franchise (looking at Leon especially...)

Which, ya know, of course people are allowed their headcanons for characters and Donna doesn't get enough screentime to really have her personality even thought of, let alone to be made canon. But I think it's fair to say that Angie and Donna are basically one and the same because they're literally the same Cadou.

This is a quick reminder that you are, of course, allowed to disagree with me. Everyone has their own opinions and that's fine. If you would like to politely debate about this in my comments or in my DMs, or even in my asks, then you're more than welcome to! Please remember debating and arguing are two different things though.

If it really irks you that bad then please scroll, it's not hard. If you don't want to do that then feel free to block me - the button is free of charge after all and should be used more to cultivate your feed to your liking.

#resident evil #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #re village #re8 #donna beneviento #resident evil donna #re8 donna

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flowerandblood · 11 months ago

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The Fall from the Heavens (5)

[ canon • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: angst, arranged engagement, beheading, violence, swearing, humiliation, chauvinism ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

Characters & Series Moodboard Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Childhood

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

He wasn't sure how many years it had been since he had really cried. When he tried to remember it seemed to him that the last time it had happened was when he had lost an eye, when he had lost her, as he did now.

He was furious with himself, but he couldn't help the sobs that came out of his throat as he sat with his face hidden in his hands on his bed, his eye patch lying against his hip. Though he tried to calm down, convulsions shaked him.

You have done it now and you will do it again.

You abhore me and whenever you forget that I can give you pleasure, you will hurt me.

Something like a helpless, high-pitched, pathetic whine ripped from his throat as he once again recalled her words stifled in despair, the expression on her face, the cruel disappointment when she realised what he had become.

He cried because she had humiliated him, he cried because she had left him despite him asking her to stay, he cried because he loved her and he cried because he knew subconsciously that she had been right.

He was no different from his brother, whom he despised.

Although he wanted to think of himself as always being guided by cold reason and logic, it turned out that he was as thoughtless and impulsive as he was.

He couldn't erase from his mind her horrified expression, her loud sobs when he realised that he had held her cheeks between his fingers as tightly as if he wanted to break her jaw.

The thought that this could have all been planned by her mother, that she could have made a fool of him, made him want to cause her pain, to take his payment for the thought that she had deceived him.

However, when it became apparent that his forethought had gone too far, all that was left was her regret and his despair that he could not take it back.

At the same time, he wanted her to suffer and to be safe, to moan beneath him in pleasure and in terror, to smile and despair at the sight of him.

His disgust and adoration for her and her family fused into one in his mind and he couldn't separate it.

It was too late.

He was deciding that he would destroy her only to find, after a while, that he would attempt to reason with her, that what had happened between them had brought back those wonderful memories, had given him some kind of hope, although he didn't know for what.

They both knew that whatever they had shared as children had partly survived in this twisted, deformed, cruel form.

He only fell asleep in the morning, tired and resigned, terrified, trying to soothe himself with the thought of the warmth of her body, of their fingers brushing against each other in the air in the warm light of the fire.

In that one moment, he felt that it was like before.

He was awakened from his restless sleep by servants informing him that in a few hours there was to be a gathering in the throne room, to be presided over by his grandfather. With their help, he dressed in a simple emerald tunic, a gift from his mother, proof of whose side he was on, who he would support.

After what had happened during the night, he expected her visit.

Indeed, she appeared in his chamber as he sat thoughtfully at the table where his morning meal had been served, which he had not even touched, gazing thoughtfully out of the window.

"What have you done?" She asked with a grief and helplessness that frustrated him; he pressed his lips together at the thought of her comparing him to Aegon so easily, thinking that whatever his niece had given him, he had taken it by force.

"I don't know what you mean, mother." He replied emotionlessly, not even bestowing a single glance on her, in an involuntary reflex that he had inherited from her fiddling and plucking the cuticles around his fingernails, an expression of his subconscious anxiety and nervousness.

His Queen stood before him with her hands folded over her womb, looking at him pleadingly, as if she hoped he would tell her that what her guards had reported to her was not true.

"Your guards, Aemond. They heard inappropriate sounds coming from this chamber, and then they saw Rhaenyra's daughter running out of it crying." She said in a breaking, weak voice; he sighed heavily, rolling his eyes, licking his lower lip impatiently.

"She came to me alone to speak and express to me her… longing. Nothing happened." He said, choosing his words so that they were not entirely a lie, realising with embarrassment that he could smell her moisture, her taste on his tongue, and a shudder went through him.

He rebuked himself in thought, swallowing loudly, running his hand over his face, reminding himself that his mother was standing before him.

His mother looked out of the window, breathing loudly, knowing there was something else lurking in his words. She ran her hand over her neck as if trying to calm herself and not panic.

"Should…should she drink moon tea?" She choked out at last in a low, desperate voice, and he lifted his gaze to her, heavy and dark.

"No."

His word hung in the air like a storm cloud; there was something final in his voice, ending the discussion in his mind.

His mother breathed a quiet sigh, as if relieved, but immediately doubt was on her face again, as if it only raised more questions and anger in her mind.

"Why didn't you send her away? Do you know how that might affect your future betrothal to Lord Baratheon's daughter? What would he say if he found out you were hosting another woman in your chamber at night?" She asked clearly losing her patience, but he was not sure if this was purely due to his behaviour or because she was taking it out on him for what Aegon had done and for not being able to reason with Helaena.

He turned away and answered nothing, looking out the window at the courtyard full of people – he heard her sigh of rage, felt her disappointment and dismay.

He didn't want to infuriate her further with words that he didn't give a shit about what Lord Baratheon or his daughters might have thought of him.

Even standing in the throne room they were separated from the others; he stood behind his brother and sister with his arms folded behind his back, pretending he felt nothing at the sight of Rhaenyra and her bastard son holding her hand as if he were an infant.

Something about the sight made him feel like he was going to vomit, the thought that Luke was pretending to be innocent, unaware, hurt.

Yet he was the one who had lost everything.

He tried to look only at him, but failed miserably, his gaze fleeing to his side, searching for her. He only found her, to his surprise, by Daemon's side; he was saying something to her with amusement and mockery, looking ahead nonchalantly. Even though she was pale, he noticed that there was a small smile on her face, from which he felt discomfort in his lower abdomen.

His would-be betrothed was dressed all in black, her gown fitted to her body, a single ruby ring on her finger, her bare neck and shoulders devoid of any adornment seemed even more shameless to him, by being exposed it focused his attention even more, coming to the fore surrounded at the back by her long dark hair.

He thought of her and Rhaenyra standing similarly, both of them playing with the rings on their fingers with their heads slightly tilted.

He pressed his lips together thinking of how not long ago he had kissed that beautiful long neck, how he had drank from her and licked her there, deep between her thighs, her forbidden fruit that he had tasted and by which he was cursed for eternity.

He swallowed hard when he saw that her gaze lifted to his uncle as if something he had said had surprised her and she laughed, sincerely and genuinely, revealing her teeth for a moment, then lowered her eyelids, still smiling, her eyes framed by her long black lashes.

Look at me, he thought with rage, not even seeing that his grandfather had already sat on the Iron Throne, that he had begun his speech – she, however, was looking at the stone floor in front of her.

He felt discomfort, he felt disappointment, he felt uncertainty.

His gaze shifted to Daemon, who also did not seem interested in what was happening around them.

There was something between them, he could feel it, some sort of bond from which fury rose in his throat.

He felt an unpleasant chill at the back of his neck at the thought that perhaps he had made the wrong assumption in thinking that he was the first man to have seen her bare body, to have touched her, and he felt a fury bordering on madness overwhelm him.

He had the feeling that none of what he was seeing was really happening.

Vaemond's words, then the sudden entrance of his father, who, though dying, found the strength as usual to defend her, his favourite, only child. He felt himself grinning, felt like laughing at this sight, so pathetic and saying everything about who they were for him.

An addition, a background.

He never felt important, loved or wanted in his eyes.

He was proud of him only once, when he commanded him to marry his niece and he agreed, but even in this he managed to disappoint his hopes.

He felt his breath stuck in his throat as he glanced at her involuntarily at the thought and their eyes met.

It seemed to him to startle her, as if he had caught her in the act.

She lowered her gaze, her eyebrows arched in pain, as if she was suffering at the sight of him.

Why?

Why couldn't he get her out of his thoughts and heart?

"Her children are BASTARDS!" He heard someone's enraged shout and turned his gaze towards him, looking at Vaemond with disbelief and awe.

"And she. Is. A whore."

All gathered made horrified, shocked sounds as the blade sliced through the air and part of Colrys Velaryon brother's head fell to the stone floor.

"He can keep his tongue." Said Daemon with some sort of boredom and disapproval, wiping his Dark Sister, Visenya's sword, against his tunic before the guards could reach him.

It seemed to him that everything that happened around them always came back to her words.

Aegon the Conqueror thought otherwise.

Out of ten nights, nine he spent with Rhaenys.

Standing beside the table before the supper that his father himself had insisted on, his older brother began showering him with questions that he had no desire to answer.

He was glancing once in a while at his niece, his uncle and his eldest daughter, Baela, who was standing on the other side of the chamber, looking at him sinisterly, playing with her necklace.

Whore.

He grinned at the thought of how he'd punched her in the face when they were children and thought he'd love to do it again.

"Our niece has quite a pleasant curves, don't you think, brother? Is she tight, or has uncle Daemon managed to stretch her out properly already?" He muttered while taking a deep sip of wine from his goblet – he looked at him with a gaze from which his elder brother merely rolled his eyes and fell silent.

As the King was carried into the chamber everyone took their seats; he felt his jaw clench at the sight of her sitting at the end of the table to the left of Daemon, as far away from him as possible. His impatience and gloomy musings were interrupted by the voice of his mother, who had decided to pray for Vaemond, and then make a toast.

"I would like to raise my cup for Jace and Baela and Luke and Rhaena, hoping that their marriages will be prosperous and blessed. I would also like to raise my cup to my son, Aemond, who will soon marry one of Lord Baratheon's daughters." She said softly; an uncomfortable silence fell around her, his heart pounding like mad.

He looked at her, but her blank gaze was fixed on her plate, her lips pressed together, her face pale; he had the impression that her body was trembling almost imperceptibly.

Say something, he thought, although he couldn't tell if he was directing his thought to himself or to her.

"I do not recall my brother's decision to marry Prince Aemond to my daughter ever being called into question." Said Daemon, startling him completely, he and his niece cast quick, horrified glances at each other, shocked.

Oh fuck.

Alicent laughed nervously, shaking her head, glancing at her husband for support.

"We've made a mutual decision that it's not worth stinging an old wound, haven't we, my love?" She asked, but his father remained silent.

He pressed his lips together, feeling the rapid beating of his heart as his King looked at him, breathing heavily through his mouth, looking at him thoughtfully, his gaze weary.

"You have made it, Alicent. I never had a say in the matter. But the House of the Dragon will not remain strong unless it is finally united." He said impatiently, in a hoarse, broken voice, slamming his fist on the table, complete silence all around him.

"I do not want my decisions to lead to another misfortune. I am allowing our children to decide." He said with difficulty, his mother shook her head saying that it was impossible, that everything had already been settled.

There was a commotion at the table, Rhaenyra stood up saying that she would not force her daughter to do anything, however, she had already begun courting her to marry her cousin. Aegon laughed out loud, covering his mouth with his hand trying to hide his amusement, glancing at him with raised eyebrows.

He looked at her at last, the woman he had spent the night with, her eyelashes, her dark, wise, warm gaze, her lips parted in pain and fear, her cheeks flushed with emotion, her hair, her neck, her breasts that he caressed with such devotion, her thighs and what was between them, what could only be his if he said the word.

What the fuck was he supposed to do?

"Aemond." His mother's pleading voice snapped him out of his thoughts; he looked at her with wide eye, in her gaze a plea for him not to let her down, not to betray her, to stand by her side.

He swallowed loudly, looking at her again, at the woman who was his curse.

"My niece is disgusted with me, is she not? Tell us what you think of me, my Lady Strong." He said coolly, wanting to shift the burden of this choice onto her, not willing to embarrass himself or show himself as desperate if she were to respond that she would never marry him.

He figured he'd give her a chance to end it once and for all, and then when she left him for the next and final time, he'd kill her with his own hands.

"My place is with you, uncle. It always has been."

Her answer, her expression, her plump lips parted in anguish, the tears at the corners of her eyes, her breasts rising and falling rapidly in horror at what she had just done made him simply stare at her in disbelief, silence all around them.

My place is with you, uncle.

It always has been.

He felt his heart squeeze so hard that he had trouble catching his breath – he lowered his gaze and, with a trembling hand, raised his cup to his lips, taking a deep sip from it, feeling that chaos reigned in his mind.

Despite the fact that for years he did not answer her.

Despite the fact that she was afraid of him.

Despite the fact that he hurt her.

Despite everything.

He looked at her and licked his lower lip, feigning indifference, raising his cup to his lips again to hide the thrill that lurked in his voice.

"So it is decided, father. We will marry."

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes

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sonik-kun · 2 months ago

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"JC is a misogynist! 🤬🤬"

Meanwhile, all canon interactions he has with women are of him either being submissive, protective and doting around them (his mother and his sister) or acting like a polite and normal human being (the random prostitute that came to testify about JGY).

I will say that if anything, WWX disrespected women more than JC ever did if we're going to go there. He didn't respect JYL's autonomy and her own decision on whom she wished to marry. How he had WLJ unalived with the table leg in her mouth was somewhat eyebrow raisy considering what she was known for. And then there were the ghost girls he had fawning over him during his cringey YLLZ days.

But sure. Keep making shit up about JC to justify your weird hate fetish ig lmao. And no, him being unmarried and blacklisted isn't proof of being a misogynist, actually. Because one, this was made as a joke by MXTX and was never even in the book and two, people are blacklisted for all sorts of reasons and JC shows no interest in women romantically nor does he show a desire to get married. Doing so does not mean that you hate women, especially when his whole life was, in a sense, centred around women. He adores and thinks the world of his mother and sister. He started a siege in his sister's name, like hello???

In short, you have no proof of this stupid claim and therefore, it has no place in the Canon Jiang Cheng tag. It is entirely a fanon interpretation founded upon non canon text. Good day. 👋

#canon jiang cheng #jiang cheng #jiang wanyin #mo dao zu shi #mxtx mdzs #mdzs #the untamed #the grandmaster of demonic cultivation #begging JC antis to start using their own tag because they cant even use canon jc correctly 😂😂#canon jc

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wutheringcaterpillar · 5 months ago

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one shot request about the Tommy head canon where he gets jealous that the reader has imaginary friends? could be technically considered voyeurism because he makes the friends “watch”? thank youuu

Thank you for the request! Had a lot of fun with this one!

Warnings: daddy!kink, voyeurism (kinda), oral (f!receiving), p in v, fingering, pet names, jealous!Tommy, creampie, age gap (not specified)

The long day had come to a hault, Tommy’s mind spinning from all the business and finance bullshit that comes with the job. Now here he was a grown man that people found to be intimidating and powerful sitting on a small white cushioned chair, sipping tea out of a petite porcelain, pink pastel cup with his baby girl sitting across from him with her ribboned pigtails, looking adorable as always.

She was always a fragile, bashful little thing but loved Tommy for whom he was.

His typically frigid, void heart warmed immensely whenever he was in the presence of his little girl. She was his soft spot, and smelt of daydreams and berries, completely enchanting and he would go to the end of the earth to protect you from any harm.

Folding your legs, flashing your baby blue knee socks, a sliver of your thigh was exposed, causing Tommy to shift in his seat, readjusting himself.

“How was your day my love?” His large, older calloused hand brushed over yours, squeezing it gently and caringly.

“Missed you, I’ve been stuck with Alfred all day, the rest of my friends left to go color without me. He says he thinks I have a pretty smile, and that I’m far too cute be coloring alone.”

Tommy’s top lip quirked up, slightly annoyed by Alfred’s confidence of saying such an inappropriate compliment to his girl. Glancing at the empty chair, Tommy set the cup down onto it’s plastic decorated plate, raising his eyebrows with a fierce hint of jealousy glowing in his eyes.

“Oh yeah? Is that so Alfred, eh?”

Standing up and removing his jacket, the heat built in between your thighs, warming your insides when he revealed revealed his long white shirt and blazer with the dazzling gold chain wrapped subtly around his bicep.

Kicking the chair to face the bed, you fiddled with your thumbs anxiously, knowing what this would lead to.

Lifting you up from small pink seat, you gasped when his hands latched beneath your delicate thighs and carried you over to the bed, plopping you down making your small butt bounce on the mattress.

“I think Alfred needs to learn his place, don’t you darling?” Biting down on your bottom lip, you nodded as Tommy swung open your legs effortlessly, revealing the visible wet spot, painting your pink frilled panties.

Your cheeks burned a rosy shade of pink, gasping when you heard the sound of your panties ripping in half followed by the smooth exterior of his tongue lapping, delectably between your soaked folds.

Smooching seductive kisses into your desperate mound.

His sapphire eyes glanced up, connecting with yours. Seeing your chest rising and falling slowly, lips parted in pure ecstasy always sent shivers up your spine, you were wonderous, perfect in every way.

His digits skimmed at the your tight slippery opening, breathing in the fumes of your freshly shaved, showered heat. The tips of his fingers entering and exiting you playfully.

His princess was always so impatient, so desperate for his cock when they were alone.

“Daddy, please…More.” You whined, fists curling in the sheets while his plump, velvet lips sucked at your throbbing clit, one finger pumping in and out of your warmth.

Smirking, he stood back up, flipping you over onto your tummy before you heard the movement of his zipper, feeling his cock pop out slapping against your inner thigh spontaneously.

Pulling your tender cheeks apart he examined how your sweet slick was dripping from your antsy cunt, making a wet spot form on the bed.

“Eh, see that Alfred? Something you’re never gonna get. My pretty pussy, isn’t that right sweetheart?”

“Yes, yes! All yours, only yours daddy!” Hearing the excitement, and the overwhelming tone of desperation was like music to Tommy’s ears. His precious little baby.

Lining his cock up, you felt the large tip swipe over your gaping hole with precum, causing your body to grind down, needing him to stuff you full and fuck you hard.

“Patience, princess.” His hand combed through the strands of your hair, pulling your head back by the baby blue bows of your pigtails, causing you to release a loud, lustful whine.

Planting a passionate kiss to your neck, making you moan in pleasure, he dipped his cock in. The sudden feeling of being so full nearly taking the breath out of your little lungs.

“Dadddyyyy….” Such a beautiful serenade your voice was. He started at a slow pace wanting to take his time with his princess. The soft fabric of your knee socks grazed against his thighs, making Tommy all the more eager to pick up the pace, but he wanted to see his baby girl ride him, wanted to see a full view of your pussy devouring his cock so well.

“Bounce back baby. Wanna see that little ass clap against me.” He striked your bare cheek, a bright red handprint forming immediately, marking his territory

Without needing any guidance, your hips rolled back, the head of his thick shaft stuffing your little pussy full without any shame.

Your knuckles turned white as you gripped the fluffy bedding, focusing on the sound of his deep, growling moans. Feeling the way his hands grazed seductively down your thighs, stopping at the fabric of your knee socks and picking you up slightly so he could slide in deeper, able to hit your cervix.

“Fuck! Daddy! Fe-feels so good mm..” Your words faltered from the enthralling, profound feeling of pleasure.

He fucked into his tight cunt, craving to please his baby girl and hear her screams, the screams he caused.

Turning your head, he forced you to look at the chair your friend sat in as he slammed into you relentlessly. Your tits bouncing against the soft padding of the mattress while you released whimsical, high pitched moans.

“Bet Alfred can’t make you feel this good can he sweetheart?” The thick shaft of his cock was overwhelmingly pleasurable, sliding in and out between your tight wet folds delectably. Your teeth bit down onto the plump bottom of your lip as he drilled into your tight cunt.

His balls slapped against your bare sex, when in one powerful thrust, waves of pleasure were building up your spine, making you whine out in ecstasy.

“Mm- ungh, no, no. Just you daddy!” Tears sprang at the brim of your eyelids from the overstimulation and the stuffed feeling of his cock throbbing in your cunt.

“Daddy, I-I’m going to cum, ca-can I-fuck! Can I please cum!” Tommy would always allow his darling dove to cum first as a gentleman should, you’ve earned it.

“Go on love, release.” The sizzling, euphoric sensation took over every detrimental part of your body. The rising pleasure settling like a pit of fiery, building euphoria as your aching walls squeezed his long, thick cock. Your flood gates budding open like a watered flower, oozing out onto Tommy’s shaft, your sweet nectar coating his unshaved mound white.

“I’m cumming, I-oh daddyy! Ohhh….” Tommy was seconds behind you, collapsing onto your back as he arched, bottoming out in you filling his little princess with his swimming seeds, releasing an exasperated, deep, groan, moaning out “Oh Baby..” In the process.

He lay there for a moment before pulling out and seeing his cream pie gushing out of your overstimulated cunt. Such a breathtaking sight.

Taking a seat on the bed beside you, when you goanced over at him he could see the tears from your dreary, tired eyes. Beads of sweat forming by your now messy hair.

“My little cry baby aren’t yuh, eh?” Tommy pulled you closer, his large calloused hands hovering over the little goosebumps on the smoothe skin of your arms, holding you warmly and close feeling your little heart thumping rapidly against him.

“I brought a gift along with me since you’re always such a good girl.” Your eyebrows suddenly perked up, wanting to lean over the bed and see but he stopped you. Patience and surprise being a thing he was still working on with you. Always such a eager girl you were.

Pulling out a stuffed pink rabbit, Tommy’s heart melted when he heard your little gasp of surprise. Instantly you grabbed hold of the fluffy stuffed toy, hugging it whole heartedly and adoringly.

“Oh daddy, I love it! I love you! How did you know?” Tommy wasn’t oblivious, he always paid close attention to things you stared at longingly out in public through store windows and that had been what you were eyeing for weeks now.

Shrugging, he walked over to your closet, picking out a frilly short, flowered dress that he hadn’t seen you in yet and tossed it on the bed along with a pair of white shoes.

“I love you more sweetheart. I know with work being busy we haven’t had many date nights and I insist on treating my princess to a night out.” A wide smiled spread across. Feeong from the bed you ran up to Tommy and he caught you in his arms, placing a giddy kiss to your delicate, inviting lips.

Upon getting ready, Tommy watched you adoringly in that short little dress twirl happily, and cutely in the mirror, grabbing the new bag he had bought you just last week.

“I think you scared Alfred away for good daddy. I hope you know I’ll only ever have eyes for my protector, my love.”

“Yeah fuck you Alfred.” Kicking the chair over, Tommy pulled you close to his side before spitting at the floor, making Alfred learn his place. Rendering the boy speechless as you watched him run out the door completely scarred making you giggle.

“What do you think love? Ready for dinner at the chateau?” You nodded gleefully, holding onto the older man’s arm in deep devotion as he guided you out to the car, ready to enjoy the rest of the night with his baby girl.

#Tommy shelby #thomas shelby #peaky blinders #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagine #tommy shelby imagine #requested

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golden-earcuffs · 1 year ago

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I just want to reflect how much the Loki show ruined Loki as a character for me and how much disheartened I was with it.

I had always wanted a spinoff on him, which explored him more. And the Loki show did anything but that.

Do you guys remember how Loki was in Infinity War for like 5 minutes, yet Tom Hiddleston was at almost every media interaction the cast had? The same thing happened in the show as well. They used him to market the show, then sidelined him in his own show. I think that was unacceptable, because they used Loki as a bait to promote a character that I held no emotions for.

Sylvie.

The argument that one does not like Sylvie because they “hate a strong female character/a character with complex arcs” is so pathetic. I don’t think I would’ve liked Sylvie even if she had the most elaborate arc in the MCU (which she doesn’t) because it just wasn’t meant to be about her.

I wanted to see Loki’s story, his journey, and if you take this moment to interject with the statement that “she’s Loki too, just different”, then I say that I wanted to see our Loki, the one who was broken when he found out that he was the monster parents told their children about at night, the one who had plethora of iconic dialogues while fighting the avengers, who was killed only for us to realize that he wasn’t.

Everytime I said that we needed a Loki spinoff before it was announced was not because I wanted new characters, it was because I wanted to see more of the character that was already there, very much beloved by the fans. I wanted them to explore his character in a deeper sense and maybe dip a little into mythology as well.

I think Loki was one of those characters that neither needed a love interest nor was ready for one. I don’t ship him with either Sylvie or Mobius, because it feels like neither of them genuinely like Loki for who he is.

Loki had far more compelling things they could have explored like his jotun heritage, his trauma from the time with Thanos and his magic that is the only memory he has of Frigga instead of his love life.

The whole show felt like it was written by someone who wasn’t the least bit interested in Loki and barely looked into him before creating his female counterpart.

It feels like a disrespect for the fans who were connected to Loki on an emotional level.

Why am I saying this now, after like 2 years since the show came out?

I don’t know, after hearing the news about season 2 releasing in October, I just feel so upset. Tired. I hate this show much because it made Loki so irrelevant to me. A sidepiece in his own show. He went around in ugly costumes and all the regal vibes I had from him just disappeared.

I still remember a time when Loki was on the top of my favorite characters, and I loved him so much. I still do, but I’m not sure if I’ll watch the 2nd season and my 13 y/o self would hate me for this.

I’ve gotten detached from his character and I hate myself for it because Loki was someone whom I adored more than anything else in the fandom world.

Loki is that one character who is loved by the fanon but absolutely despised by the canon.

#pro loki #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #anti loki series #anti loki show #anti sylvie #anti sylki #anti mobius #anti lokius #loki deserves better #don't mind me #i'm just a very upset fan who loved loki #i think loki's character was done the most justice in thor the dark world and for some reason we overlook that movie #THAT film gave me the loki i wanted traumatized regal bitter and still proud and cunning

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ilreleonewikiart · 2 months ago

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TDIOBCB challenge - day 23: pregnancy

Pregnant Rhaena, Daeron and their children, Nyra and Vivi

"This is probably one of the family dynamics I love the most that I’ve created. I briefly mentioned that in this fic Rhaena and Daeron would get married and have children, but I never focused on them. However, out of all the children that will appear, they are the most important and the ones who will return most often, as they will be born almost at the beginning of the story and grow over time, especially the first two, though Rhaegal, who will be born only at the end of the fic, also has an interesting conception. The first two are twins and are named Rhaenyra and Viserys. For simplicity, they are called Nyra and Vivi by the family, and they are the very first grandchildren of Rhaenyra and Daemon. Nyra is practically a miniature version of her aunt Baela, with a light touch of her grandmother, from whom she takes her name. Being born a few seconds before Vivi, she is considered the older one and, for a few years, was seen as the most likely heir after Aegon III. She is her father's favorite, who adores her and can never say no to her. Sometimes the two even dress alike. Vivi, on the other hand, is his mother's little angel, whom she adores. Like the grandfather he’s named after, he loves sweets. His sensitive soul makes him fall under the strong-willed nature of his sister, whom he follows in everything and is often the victim of her pranks. Both love dogs and ponies. Rhaengal, the youngest, isn't born yet during the fic, but his presence is felt even while he's still in the womb. In fact, unlike his siblings, he is not Daeron's son, but Addam's, though they will do everything possible to pass him off as a legitimate child. In any case, he is deeply loved by both parents, and his two siblings adore him."

(warning: these illustrations are inspired by an AU Divergence and have nothing to do with canon (book or tv show) events and are not meant to be reposted outside of their contest)

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acrylic-anxiety · 6 months ago

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things I thought were canon in mha but are probably just things the fandom made up that are so deeply ingrained in fanmedia, coming from someone who only joined the fandom a few months ago (correct me if im wrong)

(also not caught up on s7)

- literally any ships (rip, i know, but guys, no student relationships are canon as of rn)

- eijirou and mina went to middle school together

- denki probably has (absence) seizures due to overusing his quirk/bc storms

- red shoe theory (the quirkless have an extra toe joint and bc of that they need different shoes. unfortunately there's only one type, so doesn't matter if you're 5 or 80, you're stuck wearing bright red sneakers ://)

- erasermic. just the entirety of them being together. also includes erasermic fam. still rioting from when i found out erasermic is not canon >:((

- denki has adhd + dyslexia + dyscalculia (and probably a seizure disorder)

- hitoshi is in the foster system (and was probablg ab*sed bc of his quirk. includes mentions of muzzles and quirk suppressants)

- present mic was born with his quirk, deafening everyone in the room when he was born (includes mentions of muzzles)

- the bakugous (mitsuki and masaru) are either the best parents in the world (super attentive and caring) or suck and are probably ab*sive (quirk suppressants on katsuki any time he comes home, neglectful masaru, aggressive mitsuki)

- izuku is autistic (while not canon, i wouldnt be surprised, this is coming from someone with auDHD)

- denki's parents are both pro heroes (theres two pro's with electricity quirks. maybe?? maybe not?? we'll never know)

- endeavor is homophobic (i mean... im not saying he's not-)

- present mic was adopted by two moms

- eijirou has two moms (this one tho, so cute oml im screaming)

- the bakugous run a fashion empire (katsuki modeled for them before UA

- rooftop trio's full friend group included nemuri (a year ahead of them) and tensei (iida's brother)

- iida is autistic (ngl, if this aint the case im rioting)

- tsu never had a childhood, too busy parenting her siblings while her parents were at work or traveling

- back to the bakugous, they were too busy traveling to do photoshoots (mitsuki was the model and masaru designed clothes) to watch over katsuki, so he taught himself how to do everything (chores, keeping tbe house, cooking, etc)

- eijirou has depression/was su*c*dal in middleschool, the only thing keeping him from toppling was mina

- some mutation quirks are there at birth, others come in later. ex: toru (hagakure) was not born invisible, she turned invisible when out shopping with her mom (just imagine thinking "oh shit i just lost my kid at the store" and feeling something grab your leg with the voice of your kid but nothjngs there. wild, absolutely wild) just imagine this shit with the rest of our resideng mutation kids (whom i adore) koji, fumikage, mina, mezo, mashirao (would you consider hanta, kyoka, rikido, and mineta mutation quirk kids? bc i do)

- some kids come from all over the world (i like the idea of it, just how do they all know japanese then??) one i can remember rn were like denki is a 2nd gen japanese american, yuga we know is from france, hanta is latino (i adore this)

- mineta is great!! or mineta is a r*p*st (now, hes gotten better, i'll give you that, but hes still not great and i choose to hate him so im moving on-)

- the sports festival ceremony triggered a flashback for katsuki, making him feel like he was back with the sludge villian again

- izuku and katsuki co-wrote all might fanfiction and individually at one point had all might stan pages.

- fumikage, hitoshi, and kyoka rotate between the bakusquad and dekusquad

- the emosquad consists of fumikage, hitoshi, kyoka, mezo, katsuki, and shouto

- ochako has dad sneezes (loud asf and probably back to back) and katsuki has kitten sneezes (cute and singular) (no i will not explain further)

- while katsuki is loud and "angry" all of the time, you only really got to worry when he becomes deadly silent

- if you want tea on anyone, go to either mezo or kyoka. they know all

- shouto had many firsts after the dorms were implemented: first time trying ice cream, watching a movie, listening to music, trying certain foods, etc. bc endeavor either hated it, or didnt allow him access to it bc he thought it was a waste of time

- momo probably has an eating disorder, regardless of her quirk, due to her parents pressure as a high society family

- quirk related symptoms/damage. ex: katsuki's explosions causing low blood pressure and hearing loss. present mics causing hearing loss and chronic sore throats (maybe even repeat tonsilitis??). hitoshi getting migraines, insomnia, and nose bleeds from excessive quirk use.

- aizawa transfered to the hero course after winning the sports festival his first year at UA (i think it makes sense, what with him training hitoshi later)

(this is what i could think of rn, theres probably more, add on if you think of any)

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saintsenara · 7 months ago

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a duo i'd love to hear your thoughts on: bellatrix & harry (or even bellatrix/harry)

thank you very much for the ask, pal! an extremely interesting duo to think about.

and, obviously, the thing we have to immediately acknowledge is that harry thinks bellatrix is hot. he's always going on about her heaving breasts and shiny hair [and shiny hair is something he does seem to have a thing for throughout canon - hence why he spends one of his owl exams staring at parvati's], and she's definitely his "hear me out" candidate...

[i think if he's forced by ron to play fuck, marry, kill about the black sisters... he's fucking bella. he's depressed for weeks when he realises.]

more seriously, though, the thing which really stands out in harry and bellatrix's canonical relationship is that he sees her primarily as a catalyst - and, above all, primarily as a catalyst for loss - but in a way which feels strangely impersonal given the profundity of this loss to him.

she kills sirius - but harry can't summon up the rage to use the cruciatus curse against her [even though he can against amycus carrow, whom he has never met and whose crime is the considerably more minor spitting at mcgonagall]. she almost kills ginny - and harry "changes course at once" to try and protect her - but the person who gets there first and who finishes bellatrix off is molly.

and while i don't think this is strange because i think molly wouldn't have the skills to duel bellatrix, i do think it's fairly strange narratively. bellatrix's death mirrors sirius' to such an extent - right down to the fact that she dies laughing - that it would have been an interesting conceit to have harry avenging his godfather by standing in as sirius' surrogate for a repeat of the duel before the veil, which then allows sirius to be avenged when the outcome is reversed...

[although what i do like about the molly-bellatrix duel in canon is that voldemort ends up in the position his narrative mirror, harry, is in during the sirius-bellatrix duel - watching the one person he thought would never abandon him die.]

and so harry sees bellatrix as an agent of chaos - and he utterly loathes her - but he also sees the chaos she causes as, fundamentally, voldemort's fault. he views her as a puppet, a tool, a pawn - as so totally enamoured by the dark lord that she lacks any capacity for critical thinking - rather than ever seeming to understand her as her own person.

[him taunting her in order of the phoenix by pointing out voldemort's a half-blood always stands out to me when thinking about this - lucius malfoy isn't shocked at all by the revelation, but bellatrix is. it underlines the point made by her behaviour at her trial, which harry witnesses in goblet of fire - that her loyalty to voldemort is so absolute that it makes her deluded, and that she exists for him rather than for herself.]

equally, bellatrix clearly sees him as just a thing - an annoyance which voldemort just needs to eradicate - rather than a person.

and so i think that one of the very interesting "harry and bellatrix actually having to get to know each other" questions is what journey they would go on in order to understand the other as a real person. my favourite iteration of this - as i've said here - is to write bellatrix's non-battlefield personality as surprisingly similar to tonks', and to have harry having to face the fact that a woman he hates could be so much like a woman he adores. you can also obviously do the same with him having to realise she's very like sirius.

and her having to realise that harry is very like voldemort.

because the other thing which i think is fascinating about thinking about harry and bellatrix is that the best parallel for hinny in the text isn't ron and hermione, and nor is it james and lily...

it's bellamort.

i believe that harry's canonical love for ginny is completely genuine - and i accept that by the epilogue they will have settled into a relationship with a more equal dynamic - but it's very striking in the pre-epilogue canon that the power dynamic between the two is very much unequal.

harry's narrative purpose means that he has to be set apart from all others - even ron and hermione - in order for him to properly function as the encapsulation of all that is good [and as the series' allegory for christ]. as a result, he tends to interact with other characters either as people he needs to protect, or as people he needs to protect others from.

and we see this in his relationship with ginny at the end of half-blood prince, when he breaks up with her for - what he sees as - her own protection, in the belief that being associated with him will put her at risk from voldemort.

harry believes that separating himself from her is sufficient to bring ginny this protection, he never considers her to have the talent to fight voldemort herself - even though he acknowledges her as a skilled fighter elsewhere in the text - and he spends much of deathly hallows believing that he has guaranteed ginny's safety. he thinks of hogwarts as a safe-haven throughout his time on the horcrux hunt - and he is genuinely shocked to discover how bad the carrows' regime has been when he arrives at the castle immediately prior to the battle - and he treats ginny's role as a resistance leader in her own right [such as her attempt to steal the sword of gryffindor] as, essentially, a bit of a laugh.

for her part, ginny is set up in the text as ferociously loyal to harry - "i never gave up on you" - and as someone whose company he desires and values in a distinct way, but whose relationship with him is unbalanced by the paternalistic vibe of their power dynamic. harry is more honest with her than with many other people, for example, but he still doesn't tell her anything about the horcruxes, the prophecy, or the fact that he has to walk into the forest to die.

and this is exactly the same as bellatrix and voldemort.

bellatrix is clearly justified in saying that voldemort considers her his "favourite" - and he does behave towards her in ways which are meaningfully different from his treatment of his other death eaters. but their dynamic is still hugely unbalanced by the fact that voldemort is also required by the narrative to be singular - the literal embodiment of evil - and that this drives his secrecy about his true self. bellatrix is also treated by voldemort as someone whose role in his mission against harry is his to dictate, safe in the knowledge that she would never give up on him either, and who can be similarly kept in the dark about the horcruxes or the prophecy [although he clearly views this as for his, rather than her, protection].

deathly hallows, in particular, is full of explicit comparisons between the two couples. ginny trying to steal the sword leads to bellatrix giving away that there's a horcrux in her vault. ginny living while bellatrix dies [because of motherly love!] is the opener to harry living while voldemort dies [because of motherly love!]. and - of course - there's this in the forest...

Everything was waiting. Hagrid was struggling, and Bellatrix was panting, and Harry thought inexplicably of Ginny, and her blazing look, and the feel of her lips on his.

as i've said elsewhere, i think it's entirely possible to write voldemort as quite fond of ginny on the basis of her canonical similarity to bellatrix. and so the reverse must apply - harry can be written as fond of bellatrix on the basis of her similarity to ginny.

which means i also think - if you're so inclined - that the toxic wife-swap would genuinely work.

#asks answered #asenora's opinions on ships #harrytrix #bellatrix lestrange #harry potter #and also a shoutout to ginnymort nation

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liliewrites · 5 months ago

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So.. I ask it a lot to different writers but what if Reader was taller than Arlecchino? 👀

HALLOOOOO ANONNNN:)) AHAHAHAHA funny of you to send this ask because arlecchino is quite literally the shortest tall female character in genshin (especially without her heels) and i was just thinking about short!arle the other day. there are no canon heights in genshin, but i once read someone estimate arlecchino's in game model's height, n they ended up with her being 5'7 without heels and 6'0 with heels so she's still tall. though for the sake of the fic, let's just pretend reader is either 6'2 above or arlecchino is shorter than 5'7 HAHAHAHJWAHDSJA. anyway, please enjoy these silly little hcs i wrote!!:) thank u for requesting, anon!

-warning/s ; a bit suggestive at the end (no nsfw since not specified by anon, pls someone request for nsfw..), cursing.

-pairing/s ; arlecchino x fem!taller!reader.

(men please dni utc!)

arlecchino who's shorter than you? adorable. the height difference between you is obvious, but you don't provoke her too much about the topic.. but when you do?

smaller!arlecchino who silently thinks that your height definitely adds to your motherly appeal. she can't help but fantasize about being coddled by you as she sat on your lap, letting your bigger figure engulf her and spoil her with your warmth.

smaller!arlecchino who enjoys the spooning position a little too much, as it's a win-win situation no matter who's the little spoon or the big spoon. when she's the one holding you, she can't help but feel a kick of pride as she feels all protective (and possessive) towards you as she holds you in her arms. when you're the one holding her, however, she always feels safe and warm with your soft and plush body around her. the feeling of your chest pressed against her back is an added bonus, by the way.

smaller!arlecchino who doesn't let her height stop her from that hot wife who does all the heavy work for you. i mean, she is just short, but she's definitely got that muscle! you can't help but smile endearingly at her as she carries the cabinet for you, with her head peeking from the side since the cabinet was still somehow taller than her?

smaller!arlecchino who sees you struggling to reach something from the top shelf in the kitchen and the library? say no more queen! just.. just give her a moment, she'll get the ladder and she'll grab it for you. she's so cute. wandwajdkfs

smaller!arlecchino who doesn't admit it, but when you reach for something that she can't reach and grab it for her- she feels like a mushy piece of lovesick shit especially when she looks up at you and you look down at her with that smile of yours. plus your boobs were pushed against her face

smaller!arlecchino who proudly walks side by side with you. how could she not flaunt a wife as beautiful as you? many of whom you you pass by may comment about your height difference, but she only respects praise and positive comments towards you. if she hears something else, it's a safe bet that they'll be seeing celestia sooner than they expected.

smaller!arlecchino who may be smaller than you, but is still the overprotective one between the two of you. one time, one of the fatui guards had been gossiping about you. in the fatui guards' eyes, she looked like an angry wolf snarling at them. but to you? she looked like an angry chihuahua (affectionately, ofc)

smaller!arlecchino associates dominance and power with her name but let's be honest here. if you had a hot, taller and absolutely fucking gorgeous of a woman as your wife, wouldn't you just.. have the urge to be submissive and call them mommy? unfortunately, arlecchino is but a mortal being who has moments of giving in to her own desires sometimes and those desires include being pampered by her own hot, tall and fucking gorgeous wife.

suggestive ;

smaller!arlecchino as a dom? i can just imagine her getting a power trip seeing you bent over for her. her hands settled on your thighs, nails digging in the plush skin of your thighs. she tried to be careful with your delicate skin, but can you blame her? you looked like a fucking meal presented prettily in front of her. her hand runs along your back, causing you to tremble and arch as you gasp out her name. she just can't keep her hands off of you. there was so much to hold, so much to touch, so much of you that she'll explore that body of yours 'till you scream "it's too much!":DD

smaller arlecchino as a sub? muzzled. expect her to be muzzled, leashed and collared. arlecchino doesn't really like being pushed around, but that doesn't mean she doesn't secretly enjoys being dom'ed by you sometimes. it just needs a little.. discipline! you have arlecchino in front you, kneeling with her hands tied behind her back as she looks up at you with a muzzle on her face. archons, you looked so hot sitting on your chair- your figure towering over her and the wet patch on her pants had become obvious as fuck.

#lilac asks💜#lilac writes💜#arlecchino x fem reader #arlecchino x reader smut #arlecchino genshin impact #no srsly someone send an ask for shorter arle before i tear apart my walls

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sepublic · 11 months ago

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It's really surprising to think about it, but it occurred to me that throughout the entire show, amidst all of her accomplishments, we technically never see Luz make a single human friend. This obviously doesn't count her parents, who are blood relations and (should be) friends by default. And it's not as if Luz didn't try, she quite explicitly did, although her attempts were dismissed by everyone else.

I don't think this is really a bad thing at all for Luz, because she has plenty of witch and demon friends, after all, and there's no meaningful existential distinction between humans and the Demon Realm's inhabitants by the end of the day, contrary to what others might claim. Likewise, there's the pretty obvious implication given by Yesterday's Lie that Luz could've made friends at the Reality Check camp, given how well Masha and co. resonated with Vee there and managed to retain their identities.

There's also those two kids (whom I named Mike and Bridget after the crew members they were based on) that invited Luz to the Halloween hayride, although Luz obviously had too much on her mind at the moment to be receptive. I wonder if Luz ever became properly acquainted with them once she started healing during the time skip, as the existence of the Earth and Demon Realm exchange program suggests that other humans have also been introduced to the Boiling Isles.

It's implied that Luz grew distant with Masha and co. after taking Vee's place, on account of technically having never been close to them to begin with; And like with those two kids that invited her, I suspect it had to do with Luz's trauma and the awkwardness of secrets creating a gap between them, in addition to Luz needing to help her friends adjust to Gravesfield. Under other circumstances Luz would've been eager to embrace her fellow weirdoes, but with her guilt over everything (including depriving Vee of her friends, I imagine) it just wasn't the time.

Again, I find the introduction of Masha and co. to be really effective because I think it rattles Luz's sense of self by making her question her decision to stay in the Boiling Isles; Because seeing Vee and her friends just suggests to Luz that maybe the Reality Check camp could've worked out, and she'd have been able to get friends without having to lie to, hurt, and be separated from her mother in the process. Which makes Luz second-guess herself, and in addition to Camila making her promise to stay, causes Luz to begin mistakenly regretting her decisions.

But as we all know, if Luz DID go to the camp, so many terrible things including genocide would've been allowed to happen without her, and so many people would've continued suffering. And she also got to live out her dream of being a witch, which you can't really blame her for attempting when she got the opportunity. What happened already happened and it's not as if Luz can be blamed for it, because how could anyone anticipate the chain of events, and ignore others who certainly did much more, with actual malice, to contribute to the trauma? Luz had to see things the whole way through and she did; Choosing herself helped others, it didn’t hurt them like Luz thought!

Anyhow, it's basically canon that Vee got to reconnect with Masha and co., and more than likely reveal her true nature and history, especially with Gus leading an exchange program she’s part of. So I like to think Luz DID make human friends in Masha and co., as well as the two who invited her to their hayride; I love how they seem to lowkey adore Luz as a fellow weirdo, and tbh, it's not as if Luz needs human friends when she already has human connections, because witches and demons are no less 'real' in terms of being people and all.

But it'd be nice if Luz ultimately found it reassuring, the realization that there were weirdoes in Gravesfield like her, and that she could've been friends with them; Especially if it did happen anyway because Luz chose both worlds and not just one. My point being, we need a lot more content with Luz meeting Vee's friends, and especially hanging out with Mike and Bridget, since we actually saw human strangers like Luz for being Luz!!! They’re canonically fans of Luz from her chaotic reputation (not the one Vee made) and were curious to see if she’d do a crazy costume again like last Halloween!!! And their existence reassures viewers that they needn’t go to another realm entirely to find weirdoes like them, because they exist right here on this Earth!!!

#the owl house #Luz Noceda #meta

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cressidagrey · 4 months ago

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you'll be made of ashes too

Summary:

Elain Archeron makes the most beautiful bride.

Azriel...Azriel copes.

Warnings:

Rhys Bashing, Azriel has a horrible time

Notes:

Mostly Canon Compliant Through A Court of Silver Flame including the Azriel Bonus Chapter with some teeny tiny changes, which are explained in the story (a difference in the necklace arc). Set around 1 year into the future from that point, where it veers off wildly.

(thanks to @firefly-graphics for the super pretty dividers!)

Elain Archeron was the most beautiful bride the world had ever seen.

Azriel was sure of that .

A flower meadow come to life , clad in a white dress that was shot through with her favourite blooms, sparkling with every step she took. Hair falling down her back like spun gold, whiskey brown eyes filled with the kind of happiness that nothing could touch.

She was irrevocably happy as she married her husband.

There was no doubt in anyone’s mind how much she adored him as she gazed at him with such love in her eyes.

Lucien looked at her in awe as if she were a precious, precious thing he didn't deserve.

Azriel watched from the shadows as the person he loved found her happily ever after with somebody other than him.

Elain Archeron married Lucien Vanserra on a gorgeous spring day in the garden of his townhouse in Velaris.

The garden bloomed with the couple’s love and Elain’s love for the flowers that she had planted, roses and lilies and daffodils. A whole ocean of them, blooming brightly for their mistress.

Azriel watched.

It was all he could do.

All he had done over the last year as Elain and Lucien had fallen in love.

After that catastrophic solstice.

That would-be kiss. When Azriel still thought that maybe…maybe he had a chance.

He hadn’t.

Rhys had made sure of that.

So you will leave Elain alone. If you need to fuck someone, go to a pleasure hall and pay for it, but stay away from her.

Like that was all he had wanted from her.

Like that was all Azriel was good for. All that he wanted. It hadn’t even passed Rhys’ mind that Azriel had actual feelings for Elain. Or maybe it had and he hadn’t cared. Azriel didn’t know which was worse.

But it hadn’t mattered either way, because Rhys had pulled rank. It hadn’t been his brother saying these words, but the High Lord of the Night Court.

What Azriel wanted…it hadn’t mattered.

Not that it ever had before.

He should get used to that by now.

He had followed that order. What else was he supposed to do? He had left. Left their friendship in tatters…and Feyre had played matchmaker. Elain had moved on. Lucien had a chance. They had fallen in love.

Just like the cauldron had wanted.

He had gotten to see that every family dinner he attended, even when his attendance got rarer and rarer.

Saw how Elain, beautiful Elain bloomed under Lucien’s attention. When Azriel could stomach to look at her. When there wasn’t Rhys reminding him with harsh words if he so much as dared to look at her for too long.

He stopped coming so often.

It was better that way.

The question was just for whom.

He thought that maybe if he didn’t go…then it wouldn’t quite hurt so much. But that wasn’t true. It still hurt. Even more maybe.

Likes somebody cleaved his chest open and burned out his heart.

And then they had announced their wish to marry and…well.

That was it then.

The people around him found their happily ever after.

Rhys and Feyre.

Cassian and Nesta.

And now…now Elain and Lucien.

It seemed like the cauldron knew what it was doing after all, didn’t it?

There weren’t even words that could describe his bitterness. And he cut off that line of thought before it could…result in anything unpleasant.

Not now.

Not here. Not where Rhys could hear.

He could feel his shadows curl against him as the evening progressed. Trying to offer him any comfort they could, regardless of how little it was. They slithered against every bit of skin they could find, cloaking him in darkness underneath his clothing, as he was reduced to watching.

Mor pulled him to dance once, because, of course, she did.

Morrigan.

So beautiful, so unattainable. Pining after her had been safe, because why not want the unattainable?

It wasn’t like he had ever really had a chance with her. And a part of him had known that from the start.

Morrigan had been unattainable. (And so Azriel hadn’t…hadn’t needed to think about it. Not really. Whether he deserved her or not, because it was Mor and he wouldn’t be able to have her anyway.)

But with Elain…with Elain…Azriel had thought he had a chance.

Elain in all her beauty and softness and gentleness…Everything good in the world…He had seen her and he had fallen in love.

And then it had been taken from him before he had ever had a chance to go for it.

He watched. The Bride and Groom. The friends and family surrounding them.

He slipped into the shadows because that was the one comfort he had right there. The one thing that he could do.

He waited and he watched…he saw Nyx in Feyre’s arms, looking halfway to sleep already, saw Feyre watching the other Faes dancing… He slunk out of the shadows. They followed along with him.

They had clung tighter to him over the last months, ever since that solstice, slipping underneath his leathers, clinging to his wrists and ankles, like they wanted to assure him that they were there. Or maybe to shackle him.

He wasn’t sure anymore.

Not anymore.

He didn’t care anymore either.

“I can take him,” he offered to Feyre. Holding out his hands for his nephew. He could do that. Hold him. He didn’t want to dance. He wanted to go back to the shadows.

She exchanged a look with Rhys. “Thank you, Az,” Rhys said as Feyra passed Nyx over without hesitation. Azril took him, just about a year old, wings sleepily fluttering as Nyx yawned and moved closer to him.

“Good boy, Nyxie,” Feyra whispered before she grasped her mate’s hand and pulled him towards the fun part of the party. Azriel quietly swayed in place, Nyx sleeping against his shoulder, a scarred hand gently holding him in place.

He wondered if Nyx was ever going to look at them in disgust.

They were dripping in blood, but for just a moment, he could forget that.

He forgot all of that.

Until he felt nothing, was nothing at all.

He was good at that.

If he wasn’t…well, then he wouldn’t be there anymore. Then Azriel would have ended his horrible existence already.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about it through half a millennia of life.

Or especially over the last year.

Sometimes he sparred with Cassian and the instinct of self-preservation wasn’t there anymore. He wondered what would happen if he just…stopped to fight back.

He never did. He wouldn’t hear the end of it from Cass.

But the thought was there as he watched the love of his life falling in love with another male.

Nyx slept until his parents returned… until it was late enough that Azriel wasn’t the first person to go…until Cassian was drunk enough that he didn’t try to get Azriel to get drunk as well.

He said his goodbyes.

Although it felt like he was ripping out his heart, he forced a smile on his face as he congratulated Elain and Lucien. She smiled at him. He wanted to hoard that smile away somewhere, wished it was…wished it was there on her face for another reason entirely.

But it wasn’t.

It didn’t matter. His pain didn’t matter.

It never had.

It never would.

And then, finally…He let the shadows take him.

He resurfaced in the forest, feet away from his house.

His house. Because as much as he loved Cassian, spending time with him and Nesta at The House of Wind was not his version of a fun time. Especially not with everything that had gone down.

Being surrounded by a freshly mated pair, watching his brother being so utterly…in love and happy…Somebody thrust a knife into his chest and twisted.

And so he had bought this house, hidden away…still in Velaris, on the outskirts, built into the mountains, surrounded by forest…

Alone.

Nobody would hear him scream. The wards would take care of that.

He staggered as he hit the ground.

And then Azriel gave up trying to push it all away from him.

It didn’t matter anymore. Rhysand was far away enough from him that he wasn’t going to be the witness to Azriel…falling apart.

Nobody would be the witness. Just the forest and the sky and stars.

The shadows converged upon him.

Maybe it should scare him, but it never had. They talked to him, told him stories… were always there, even when nobody else was. The shadows were a part of him as true as his right hand was.

And right now they muffled his screams as he bellowed into the sky. Pain apparent in every single second of it, as he screamed his pain and grief into the void.

The shadows tried to comfort him. They always did. Many voiced, bundled into one. Master…

They tried.

But even they couldn’t stop the pain that threatened to rip him apart.

Azriel thought he knew pain.

Of course, he did.

He just needed to look down at his hands to get a reminder. Grotesque, half-flayed skin that covered his knuckles. Every winter they hurt. It didn’t matter that it had been 500 years since he first received these scars.

The pain of having his wing tied up, two emaciated things weakly, uselessly hanging off his back…he remembered the phantom of that every time he stretched them nowadays.

And then there were dozens and hundreds of other pains…scrapes and bruises, broken bones from practice gone wrong, knife wounds and sword nicks…ash arrows.

He knew it all. He had experienced it all.

Physical pain and emotional one as well.

Born a bastard, step-brothers loving to torment him…spending the first years of his life in a dark cell without even a window…seeing his mother one hour a week, used by his father to hurt his mother… He had lived through all of it.

But somehow a part of him had believed that maybe…maybe that was over now. He had found and fought for his family. Right?

And still, somehow, losing Elain was…Losing Elain was the pinnacle of half a millennia of torture.

He screamed.

He didn’t know how long it lasted. Did it matter?

Not really. Nothing mattered anymore.

Nothing mattered as he cried and sobbed and railed against the forest ground, pounding it with his fists, burying them in the damp ground…

For the first time in his life, Azriel thought…that maybe giving it all up was worth it.

Why not? What did it matter?

All life had for him was more pain. The cauldron may have given other faes their perfect mate. Not him.

Who would even care ?

His brothers? Sure, for a moment. But they had mates that would take care of them. They had each other. They wouldn’t be alone. Everybody seemingly had somebody .

Just Azriel. He was…alone.

Master isn’t alone!

Right not alone.

The shadows weren’t amused by that thought at all, poking him in the ribs. He wanted to laugh at how sharply they disagreed.

Normally, he was disciplined about them. He never let them talk to him like that, berate him into anything…but the last year he had depended on them…more often. Let them shoulder the brute of…everything that had gone on. Let them hiss comforting things to him and complain about Rhys…let him feel like maybe he wasn’t the only one who thought something was unfair.

Shadowsingers were rare for a reason. They died young because they couldn’t live with the incessant hissing of the shadows surrounding them. And Azriel…he wallowed in them.

Why not? What did it matter?

He stared unseeing into the night sky.

He should get in the house. He didn’t want to.

The shadows slivered up, against his neck, rubbing against his skin. They never felt hot or cold to the touch, just a velvety sensation…not unlike a snake. He couldn’t even remember the last time another person had touched him like that. It must have been decades ago.

Master should go into the house, they whispered. Master needs to rest.

(Did he mention that they could be surprisingly pushy? But did it matter? Not really.)

He wanted to protest. Why did it matter?

It didn’t.

None of it did.

And his chest still felt like it was caving in.

Master…Master, please.

Even his shadows were worried about him. That was the only reason he could fathom why they would ask him something like that. Soft. Imploring.

Like…Like a friend? Or a lover?

He forced himself up from that forest floor. The shadows gently pressed down onto his body, nearly like they wanted to praise him. Good, Master.

He trudged up into his house.

Open the door, the shadows whispered. Master, open the door.

He opened the door

He hadn’t even bothered to furnish it. He had survived a childhood with nary a bed, so what did it matter now? Neither he nor the house were anything more than empty shells.

He could have used magic to make it inviting, to light the fireplace, to maybe do something that wasn’t just opening the door…but it was all he could do.

The house was dark.

That was alright.

Darkness was what he knew. Darkness protected him.

Always had, ever since his childhood cell. Why change it now? It didn’t…

The shadows spilled into the house and he stepped in after them. Pulling his jacket off, his shirt…all of it muddy with forest grounds. He never wanted to wear it again. Didn’t want to ever remember this night. Didn’t want…Didn’t want to live through this anymore.

That was as far as he came.

He didn’t want to go further into the house. He didn’t.

So he just collapsed into one corner, wings curled protectively around himself.

He had sat there that morning, trying to force himself to attend the wedding.

He had done it. Pure willpower. Or maybe stubbornness. He had been known for his stubbornness for centuries, after all. But now there was no more stubbornness left. There was nothing left anymore.

The shadows swirled around him, like even they didn’t know what to do anymore. He thought about sending them away, but he couldn’t. They were the one comfort he had.

What did it matter?

What did that say about him ?

He closed his eyes.

He couldn’t help but see Elain.

It was all there in front of him, every moment they had shared. Every conversation they had. Every smile she had gifted him with.

The headache powder she had given him…He had never used it. He had stared at it when he couldn’t sleep, he had kept it on his bedside table in the House of Wind and…It had been comforting. For months it had been comforting. How often had he held it in his hands and tried to smell if maybe there was still a whiff of Jasmine and Honey clinging to it?

The pair of earplugs meant as a joke to help with the noises of Cassian and Nesta’s nightly activities…The Rosequartz necklace he had given her. Or tried to give her. Before it all went to…when she had given it back to him, he had wanted to return it to the shop he had bought it from first but then finally he had hung onto it.

He had held it in his scarred hands so often, thinking about how he didn’t deserve to even look at the beauty before him.

And then they had announced their wedding and in a fit of rage, he had thrown all three things into the Sedra.

He shouldn’t have done that.

But he was already a monster, so what did it matter?

There had been no gifts this year.

It was better that way.

The tears fell down his face but he couldn’t even bother the energy to wipe them away anymore.

Tomorrow he was supposed to do his job. Azriel had no idea how he should do that when it felt like a knife was lodged into his chest.

He would get used to it. He would.

He always did.

It had been a crazy hope anyway.

Monsters like him didn’t get…what they wanted. They got what they deserved .

And Azriel knew that he simply wasn’t good enough for a cauldron-blessed mate.

He closed his eyes, tipping his head against the wall. The shadows seemingly pulled tighter against him, trying to cover him whole…they had done the same back then as well, trying to offset the lack of a blanket with their very presence.

Master…Master, go to sleep, they whispered to him, the voice, their many voices, an echo. Soft, indulging…trying to be comforting.

He wouldn’t be able to sleep. He knew that. He wouldn’t be able to sleep, he didn’t want to sleep, not to be greeted with nightmares and memories.

He didn’t know what was worse: The things he had done or the things he hadn’t.

He had drenched his hands in blood to protect the Night Court and Prythian. Or at least that’s what Azriel told himself. To pretend that the things he had done were…just. Not right, never right, but maybe he had a good enough reason to do what needed to be done.

He was an expert at that after all.

Cloaked in shadows, that whispered the secrets of the land to him, with Truthteller on his thigh…he was the Night Courts spymaster after all.

He did what needed to be done. Until he felt nothing, was nothing.

It was all he could do after all. And still, he knew…He was simply not good enough.

Not good enough.

The words followed him since he could think. Born as the bastard son of an Illyrian noble who was well known for his cruelty and not much else, used as punishment for his mother and a plaything for his half brothers…not good enough for a stepmother that kept him locked away in a cell without even a window.

Not good enough once he reached Windhaven camp, without even knowing the one thing that every Illaryan should know…how to fly.

Not good enough .

He wished he was like Cassian, had his brash extroverted personality, believing in the good of people…he wished he was like Rhysand, a powerhouse with mythical powers, who had that inbred arrogance….

Not good enough.

He was neither.

He just…existed. Surrounded by the shadows that always surrounded him, the one thing that he could count on that would never leave him.

They pulsed around him like they tried to promise him that they would stay with him.

That would be nice, wouldn’t it? Back to only his shadows as a company, just like in his cell. There was some humour in it, he was sure. But then, in his cell, he had known that every day would be worse than the day before. Outside of it…outside of it, he had hoped that day one day there would be…more.

He had been wrong.

So back into the cell with him.

Sometimes he wished that he really felt nothing. He was good at pretending. Of course, he was. He was a spy.

He was good at pushing it all away until he felt nothing, was nothing…

But still, he felt things.

He didn’t know if it was love, didn’t know if he was capable of love at all. He wondered if his brothers knew that. Maybe that’s why Rhys had warned him off. Elain deserved better than him. Rhys must have known.

Stupid, Stupid, Stupid…

Master, stop, the shadows whispered, tightening around him. A reminder perhaps? That they were there? Wouldn’t leave him? Would be there even if nobody else was?

He wanted to thank them. He couldn’t.

He could just feel the pain deep within him, welling up once again.

It didn’t matter.

Not anymore.

Though now…now with Elain happily married, with his own heart burned out of his chest…maybe finally he would get that.

Nothing .

An existence bookended by nothing.

He would do his job. His duty. For the Night Court, for Pyrithian.

Of course, he would.

But if…if something happened to him…then that was alright as well.

It was.

He felt nothing.

He was nothing.

What did it matter?

It didn’t.

It never would.

#you'll be made of ashes too #acotar fanfiction #azriel fanfic #azriel fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel x oc #my writing #A Court of Gold and Shadows #Something Good and and Right and Real

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