#but what DOES happen is all the heirs somehow get it in their heads that they can beg nhs to kiss them | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kpopnstarwars · 5 days

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

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

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

wc: 3.9k

Feyd-Rautha has gravely underestimated you.

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

He misses how you miss nothing.

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

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

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

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

But you see it.

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

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

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

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

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

‘Am I keeping you awake, wife?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smile, cloyingly so. ‘Why not?’

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

‘Get away from me.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You spit on him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘For whom do you wait, husband?’

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

‘Pathetic.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Feeling okay?’

He nods.

‘Words,’ you chide.

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

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

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

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

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

You smile. ‘As you wish.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nods avidly. ‘Yes, na-Baroness.’

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

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

He can barely keep himself from spilling inside you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘N - no,’ he replies. ‘I just…’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

613 notes · View notes

uplatterme · 1 year

Note

aether and kaveh look like disney princesses i wanna fuck the shit out of

there is no need for elaboration

-🪸

—okay. you’ve got me hooked. rapunzel!aether in part 2! (tba)

—cinderella!kaveh/royalty!reader, sub!bottom!kaveh/top!dom!reader, amab!reader (referred with they/them pronouns) | cinderella au, semi-public sex, quickie, clothed sex, cum as lube, porn with actual plot (don’t let the tags fool u, this is so fucking soft)

You completely regret hosting this party.

It was something that your advisor had tasked you to do. Host a party, find a suitable partner, get an heir so the kingdom has someone to depend on, blah blah blah.

It’s not like you were even that old.

You sigh, a cigarette on your lips as you lay your back on the wall of the balcony. So many folks festering you, for that chance that you’ll somehow hand them their crown.

Your head aches at the number of conversations you have had to endure just to be polite, the amount of times you’ve had to shake off someone from hugging your arm without your consent.

“Oh, fuck!” You hear someone yelp.

And while the owner of this voice sounds overly anxious, you can’t help but want to hear it again, especially with the polite wording that the attendees have used to butter you up. someone swearing right in front of you catches your interest.

Hands reach the bottom of the balcony, and someone lifts their body up to get on the platform.

“Oh god, why is the entrance so crowded?” The person says.

Your ears perk up at that.

“Well, their highness did host it. it’s been a while since such an event has happened.” You answer.

The figure flinches, turning their attention to you.

Your mouth gapes as you finally see who that voice belonged to. Everything about him is enticing that you can’t help but to drown in his gaze.

He’s properly dressed as well, although not anything overwhelming to the eyes.

Now, which family had been hiding such a prince from you?

“Ah sorry, I didn’t realize someone was here.” He quickly apologizes. His cheeks flush, not expecting someone to catch him climbing up a balcony.

“You’re more than welcome to stay.” You offer, craving more of him.

He shakes his head, much to your disappointment.

“I’m actually here for something else.” he says.

You hum. “Also aiming for the heart of their highness, then?”

Take it, unknown prince.

“What?! N-No, not at all!” He screams in reply. “I mean, I'd be flattered if their highness even finds me a bit intriguing.”

“Have you met them?” You ask.

“Oh. I haven’t really got the time for that.” He answers, although he seems to be in a melancholy thought when he does.

Still, you breathe at his beauty. You think you can stare at him for your whole life.

You quickly try to change the topic.

“So, what are you here for?”

He points behind you.

You turn your head back but what faces you is nothing but the empty hallway.

“Sorry?” You question.

“The castle.”

His answers just keep surprising you.

He blushes, rubbing his arm as he paces around the small space of the balcony.

“You’re interested in the architecture?”

As soon as you mention that, he brightens up. “Yes! From what I've seen, it’s alright.”

You feel offended. It is your castle, one for which you’ve decided most of the structure. He seems to notice his mistake as he panics.

“But don’t tell anyone that! Especially not their highness…”

You grin.

“Perhaps, the inside can change your mind?”

“Inside? I don’t think we’re allowed—”

“If we don’t get caught, it’s fine, right?”

“Yes, but—”

You grab the stranger’s hand and lead him inside, he stumbles in after you, the warmth in your hand startling him.

You bring him into different rooms, hoping that one of them will at least suit his taste.

“This?”

“It’s a bit cramped, the furniture set is going against the wallpaper.”

You roll your eyes, he’s so damn picky. That, or you’re just really bad at interior decorating.

Still, you smile at every single word he says. Being royalty, you have no damn clue what he’s saying. But with that pretty voice of his, you could listen to it for hours.

“Don’t you think you’re being a bit too harsh? What if their highness were merely shown bad choices by their architects?” You say, hoping that wouldn’t risk the random attendee persona that you’re playing at the moment.

“If that’s true, they should’ve fired those architects.” He states confidently.

You laugh. “And what, hire you instead?”

He purses his lips, he didn’t expect you to get that so easily.

He stays silent.

“Do you want to?” You ask.

“Get hired?” The look on his face is so innocent like he can’t even believe that you’re asking such a thing. As if the answer is painfully obvious.

You shake your head.

“To build a castle.”

He stares at you dumbfounded. His eyes glimmer as he grabs your hands and does so aggressively. You don’t mind even a second of it.

“Are you fucking crazy? T-That’s like my dream!” He admits. He’s smiling widely, his face nothing but only a few centimeters away from you.

He starts babbling about the materials he’ll make it with, the different types of rooms and decorations he’ll add. He’s so damn fascinating, you don’t even care about the speech that you’re supposed to give by midnight.

It’s like he has planned this for a long time. Everything he says is so intricate. His hands move as if he’s drawing it, he’s a bit shaky but it’s obvious that it’s from excitement. To your amazement, the way he describes everything makes it seem as if you’re actually in that castle in your head.

Once he realizes how much he’s talking, he stutters an apology.

“Sorry! It’s just that no one has ever asked me about this, I mean at home I—”

“Okay. I’ll give that to you.” You reply genuinely, your eyes are focused on his soft lips.

His chest heaves and his golden eyelashes flutter with grace…just looking at you.

“You know that’s impossible. I’m not even a professionally licensed architect.”

“It’s not.”

You’ll make it happen, even if your advisor goes against it. It doesn’t matter if you have to demolish the entire castle you’re in right now.

“It is! You’re just flattering me, I get it. You’ve been nothing but nice to me, but you don’t have to promise and lie to about such things.”

“I mean it.” You say it so sternly that he almost starts believing it.

He sighs deeply. “Going to this party is already a dream come true. There was this little green fairy with white hair, I—”

The words slip out of your mouth, cutting off whatever stupid things he has to say.

“Meeting you is a dream come true.”

The next few moments are a blur. Your hands are all over the unknown stranger. Fuck, it’s as if you’ve been hit with a love spell. You want to keep kissing his mouth, tell him that he has nothing to worry about when you’re with him. That you’ll do anything he asks.

Your prince whines and the sound has you going insane.

You want more.

You’ve gotten so addicted easily that your mind is insatiable.

It doesn’t matter that the room is left unlocked, no one is going to keep your hands off him.

“Hah—God!” He breathes enticingly. His mind is so hazy, so weak at how his heart is pounding each second.

You take off his coat, the clothing echoes as it falls down on the floor. His blouse is silk and you swear you can see the way his chest is lined underneath the white cloth.

Your fingers rubbed his hardened nipples and his entire body shivers. He holds onto your shoulders for support, the aroused moan that escapes his throat is just enough for you to keep doing it, and so you do.

“W-Wait! I-I’ll—” He pushes you for a moment, to take a breath as he slowly composes himself.

You watch him impatiently. You can see how his cock twitches from his tight pants, the wet spot in the center, and his dick dripping from precum as the white liquid seeps through it.

You keep your hands inside your pocket. Despite how your pants are perfectly fitted for you, your cock is begging for warmth, specifically from the blonde stranger in front of you.

He then nods.

“I’m okay…we can continue.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t have any—”

“I can take it. It’s fine.” He says as if he’s in a hurry. You’re not sure if it's just because he’s needy or if it’s something else.

You still indulge in his wants, however.

You’ll have to make do with his own fluids although you really don’t want to do anything that’ll hurt him.

Your fingers steadily prepare his walls and you’re trying your best to not be greedy. His needs first, more than anything.

He’s so damn tight, not that you need to worry much as the sounds he’s making are signaling everything but pain.

He’s so soft and so perfect that you’re starting to get jealous of even your own fingers.

“Are you..?”

He nods, and desire fills his eyes. It looks like you’re not the only one getting impatient.

When you finally feel his insides with your cock, the expectations you had were completely blown out of the water. Your hands find their way to his waist and it’s perfect.

The first thrust is enough to send you to heaven.

“Keep going.” He pleads.

You continue to pound into him, enjoying how each one brings out a soft mewl from the blonde.

His cock is dripping white on the floor, and the carpet gets soaked. You know you need to get that replaced but instead, you want to keep the stain there, as if some kind of trophy.

And while you stir up his insides, a familiar noise bothers your ears.

You don’t let it even phase you, enjoying the pleasure that’s eating you up.

However, your prince decides otherwise.

“H-Hold on! What was that—”

“Just the clock. You don’t need to bother yourself with it.”

A groan escapes your throat, feeling how he tenses up all of the sudden.

“Is it twelve?” He asks.

“N-No, but it’s close. Five more minutes.”

“I need to go.” He says.

No way was he leaving you like this.

“What?”

“I’m so sorry, but I—” His words are cut off by his moaning.

The way you fill him up has him salivating. You didn’t even move but god, his walls clenching on you are betraying his choices right now.

“T-Three minutes.” He whimpers out.

“Thank you, love.”

Your fingers feel up his cock, stroking it up and down while still continuing to pound ruthlessly. He continues to scream out, his mind too overwhelmed from getting his ass and cock ravaged at the same time.

His legs quiver and you have to hold him still. You’re both close and you’ll make sure to have him finish in time at least.

“F-Fuck!” He sobs.

And the worries in your head disappear, cumming inside his walls as he splatters more onto the carpet.

You sigh, your chest thumping as you stand there with your clothes a mess.

He quickly slides off you, trembling but still hastily moving as if the adrenaline has gotten into his head.

“I-I’m so sorry, I’ll try to get in contact with you again. I swear!” He stammers out before fixing his clothes, nearing the doorway.

“Don’t go through the balcony! There’s an exit to the right of this room!” You say, helping him out despite your wishes to keep him here.

“Thanks!” He shouts back.

You swipe the sweat on your forehead, zipping your pants back on.

The clock chimes as it signals it’s midnight. What a fucking way to end the night.

You hear rushed steps from the hallway.

Your attention turns to the door. Did he come back?

Your disappointment is immeasurable when you find out it’s just your advisor.

“Your highness! I’ve been looking everywhere, you’re late for your speech—Oh my god, what did you—No, who did you?!” She looks disappointed.

You look down. Ah, right.

Who?

Oh fuck, you never got his name.

“I didn’t ask. Oh no.” The realization slowly sets in.

“Excuse me?!” Your advisor answers offended by your words. You can tell how stressed she’s been, her teal hair in a mess.

“I’ll be right there. Let me clean up first, Ma’am”

“I’ll get everyone distracted. Jeez, young ones these days!” She says before rushing away.

The urge to punch the wall in front of you right now is high.

You look at the floor and notice the coat on the floor.

It smells just like him.

You lay your head on the cold table, mind filled with everything but your duties. The only thing that’s engraved in there is nothing but the sweet prince you met a while ago.

But no matter how many times you’ve gone through portraits of different royal families, even going through the nobles, you’re not met with a match.

“Your Highness. I see you’ve been distracted again.”

“Madame Faruzan, I cannot do this anymore.” You tell her wholeheartedly.

Your advisor rolls her eyes.

“Right after I caught you and that whole mess, you should be working.”

“He’s a great guy! He’s skilled with his hands.” You argue with her.

“I do not need to hear what he did with you.”

“That’s not what I meant! He’s an architect, he’s good! I’ve heard how he works, I’ll vouch for him.”

“You’re biased. Something that a ruler should not have. I told you this when you were younger.” She warns you.

It seems that she won’t hear you out no matter how hard you try.

“I really cannot focus.” You say.

It’s the truth. You’ve been sleeping with that coat for weeks, along with other things. As if it’s actually him to begin with.

“If he’s such a great architect, then why don’t you work with that?”

An idea enters your head.

“Ma’am, you’re a genius.”

“Of course.” She says confidently with a smile.

She shakes the compliment off, lord knows she's the smartest person you’ve ever met.

“So? What’s your verdict?” She asks.

A day after, a letter was sent out to the people of your kingdom.

Needless to say, everyone was freaking out.

“Goodness, that’s a big deal. Isn’t it?”

“Right! That’s a big opportunity.”

The entire market was in an uproar as Kaveh shops for his family. He couldn’t care any, especially not with the consequences he faced from being caught out late in the night. They never knew that he went to the party, but he’s sure his snarky scholar of a step-sibling knows.

“Oh, Kaveh.” A friendly face greets him.

“Miss Nilou.”

She smiles at him,

“Are you participating?”

The confused face of Kaveh is enough for Nilou to shake the soul out of him.

“You have to! Their highness is currently looking for an architect to turn the whole castle into something new!”

Kaveh’s eyes widen. “…Actually?”

“Yes! Oh, you have to hurry! It’s only up till today!” She brings it up, and Kaveh rushes home as fast as he can.

It’s almost like a dream come true.

First, that little green fairy that gave him the opportunity to attend the party in the first place. Then, that person he met at the said party who he flushes at every time he thinks of them. And now, this?

He almost tears the whole place down from searching for his plates.

Kaveh compiles it in an envelope. He feels rewarded as if everything that he’s gone through has finally led up to something.

“Fuck! Where is it?” He’s missing a folder.

Technically, what he’s giving is already more of what was asked for. Still, the perfectionist in him cannot stand to not have everything in its place, especially not with the opportunity that he was presented with.

A knock comes from his door and he flinches, his family cannot know about this. They’ll get rid of it again.

“It’s just me.” He relaxes, rolling his eyes before turning back.

“Asshole,” Kaveh says.

“After I saw your folder in the living room and kept it? Alright, I’ll guess I’ll throw it out.” Al-Haitham replies sarcastically.

“You wouldn’t.”

“I kept it for a reason. I wouldn’t throw it out now.” Kaveh forcefully takes out the folder and shoves it into his envelope.

He wants to say thanks, but his pride is too high for that.

“Be home before your curfew, I won’t cover for you.” Al-Haitham says.

Kaveh knows that he will despite the annoying tone that he’s using.

He runs to the front of the castle as fast as he can, his legs were not made out for this kind of journey. Still, he won’t give up.

He reaches the gates luckily, just an hour before the deadline.

Now, all he had to do was wait.

“We got a lot of submissions…and most of them are barely even considered actual pieces. I mean, look at this. Who would turn a castle into a teapot?” Faruzan complains, searching through the different envelopes.

You take a look at the amount and you couldn’t help but agree more. It’s absurd.

“Everyone who’s a licensed architect can be thrown away.” You ordered.

“Did I hear that correctly?” She eyes you as if you’re crazy.

You are.

“It’s fine, I have faith in him.”

After that, the submissions are lessened quite easily. While there were some that had fit up to the standards, they weren’t simply what you were looking for.

You remember every single thing he said, if you could just match that up with an envelope then you’ll be fine.

“We have two left.” Your advisor states.

Two names in front of you. One was named ‘Albedo’ and the other one was named ‘Kaveh’. You hesitate to open, the anxiety that he never heard of this competition or that you have sorted away his piece is eating you.

Your advisor notices this and gives one of her very rare encouragement.

“You said you have faith.”

You sigh, trying to calm down.

“I do.” You say it just loud enough to believe it.

You and Faruzan both take one, opening them at the same time.

Your hands shake as you do.

This ‘Albedo’ is good. God, it’s gorgeous. Though what he’s sent out are more artistic than they are architectural, you can see the vision that he’s presenting, it’s something you think your mystery man would find great fun studying.

You literally cannot do this.

You only had one chance left.

It’s this or nothing.

Faruzan holds your hand while you go through his envelope. It’s breathtaking, it’s almost as what you imagined that time Kaveh was talking to you were right here, laid out perfectly.

“Kaveh.” The name sounds so sweet on your tongue.

Finally.

You dress up in a nice outfit, sitting on the carriage’s seat, trying your best not to scream. You could have gotten the wrong person, but you’re sure that this Kaveh is him.

You’re not accompanied by anyone except your coachman. You’ve asked him “if you’re there yet” about five times.

You bury your face in your hands. This is fine, you’ll be fine.

You almost smack your head face-first on the seat when the carriage comes to a stop without any warning.

The door opens for you.

You hear the gossiping of the people around you and you give them that perfect smile you’ve been taught to do even if it makes you feel uncomfortable.

There’s a person by the door. One who’s certainly not the one you met at the party.

“Hello.” You greet.

“Your highness.” He replies, bowing his head.

There is an awkward silence between the two of you. It is clear that neither of you likes talking.

“I’m looking for—”

“Kaveh, I presume?”

You nod nervously.

He opens the door and shouts, an annoyed response can be heard from the outside.

Everything’s fine, you rule this kingdom. If it’s another person, you can just bomb the whole place away!

The joking in your head does not make it any better.

“I swear this better be important, I was busy—” He stops talking as soon as he meets with your eyes.

There’s a flushed look on his face that matches yours.

“Oh. It’s you…”

There come the gasps from around you.

“He did not just call them that.”

“How disrespectful!”

“Right?!”

You cough, unsure how to state why you’re here. You just hand him the contract.

He shakes as he reads it.

“What…?”

“I told you that I’ll build you a castle.” You remind him.

Kaveh remembers and you can see everything click right in his face. He’s very expressive, not that you were a stranger to that.

“Y-Your Highness.” He stutters.

You wonder if it’s appropriate to go down on your knee.

Fuck it. You can have Madame Faruzan reprimand you later.

The people watching scream in shock as you go down on one knee.

“Now that we have that out of the way…Will you do me the honor of ruling by your side?”

Please say yes, please say yes, please say—

“What?!” Kaveh yells at you.

“G-Get up! Oh my god, your highness!” He tells you.

“I’m not standing up unless you say yes.”

The man you talked to previously whistles before heading inside the house. Kaveh glares at him, he did just not leave him in a situation like this.

“I’m serious, Kaveh.”

“You’re crazy.” He says.

“I know.” You look up to him hopefully.

He’s so red, it’s almost painful to look at. Not that you were any different from his case.

“I—Alright! Yes! So stand up already, your cape is getting dirty and everyone’s looking so—”

You pull Kaveh down by his collar, drowning in his sweet familiar lips.

#plattered writings #dom reader #sub genshin impact #dom!reader #sub genshin #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #kaveh x reader #sub kaveh #sub!kaveh #sub kaveh x reader #thirsts for blake

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wifegideonnav · 2 years

Text

the importance of pov and kiriona gaia as gideon nav’s imperialist aspect

others have already made some really smart posts about how kiriona is gideon when she’s lost everything and everyone that made her who she was, and how even in the first two books, gideon was this terrifically sad creature who was disguised by the fact that she was her own narrator.

but I want to expand on that last bit, because yes. kiriona is a gideon who has lost everything, who has had to make tough decisions to survive, who has had to adapt to being primarily around her father (a manipulative asshole) and ianthe (ianthe). but this is also the first time we’re getting to see gideon from a perspective other than her own.

we’ve always known that gideon is a beautifully unreliable narrator - see her complete understatement of the fight before harrow opened the tomb, where she neglects to tell us that she almost killed harrow with her bare hands - but I think that for a lot of us, the introduction of kiriona was when we first felt that.

now, nona is not an objective narrator either (lmao). and she does actively dislike gideon (which is fascinating, and which I could go on about for several posts). but she does offer an outside perspective on gideon that we have, up to this point, been lacking.

because… yeah. sometimes, like anyone, gideon’s kind of mean. we know she’s a good person - her goodness is in many ways one of the central drivers of the plot - but that doesn’t mean she’s nice all of the time. it’s just that when she’s being mean to crux, or ianthe, or even harrow we can say, well that person deserved that. but the truth is, gideon has lived through the kind of hell that very few people could survive with any kind of goodness and softness left intact. she didn’t live through it, in fact. she’s just kind of… existed through it.

I saw another post point this out, and I want to reiterate: gideon’s goal, her whole life, has been to join the cohort. when we first meet her, we’re like, ok, makes sense, that’s the only ‘out’ available to her. and we kind of forget, even as we learn more about the empire, that what gideon wants to join is this actively and horrifically violent imperialist force. when we get to nona, and we meet hot sauce and her gang and joli and the angel and even the edenites, we expect gideon to have kept up with us somehow, to reject the empire. we want her to be one of the “good guys” (goodness in the tlt universe is another longass post I want to write…).

but gideon doesn’t reject the empire. because, crucially, she IS the empire - she is its heir, never mind the fact that that doesn’t really mean anything when the current emperor is immortal.

what I am trying to say is this: kiriona is gideon when you take everything from her, and then replace it with her father and everything he represents, and then take a step back.

that step back is crucial. it is what allows us to remember how imperialism - and by extension, or by metaphor, cruelty - works. gideon becomes cruel because she is in proximity to cruel people, AND because she is not in proximity to us.

THAT is what Muir is saying with kiriona. even the most kind, good, earnest protagonist can become a tool of evil in the right circumstances: and those circumstances include perspective. gideon, like it or not, is currently actively choosing to be a tool of empire. and if we were in her head, we might be able to - or we might be tricked into - accept her justifications for why she’s doing it.

the perspective shift is what allows us to see gideon as she - currently - truly is. it is no accident that this is when we get the outside pov. Muir allows us nowhere to hide; we have to confront what gideon has become and by extension what she always has been.

gideon nav is a good person, and I fully believe that in alecto we will watch her reject her father; I fully believe she will get to be a hero. but in order for that to happen, she - and we - must first undergo radical change and growth in terms of her worldview and attitudes. kiriona is not gideon’s final form. but in the same way that john is described by harrow as having aspects, kiriona is the aspect or facet of gideon that embraces cruelty, that perpetuates empire.

Muir tells us: even the most beautiful-hearted, trod-on girl in the world can become a tool of empire. but I have no doubt that in alecto she will tell us: this is how that girl can destroy it.

#does this make sense???#i don’t usually make Serious Meta Posts like this lol but this is important to me #op #tlt #tlt meta #the locked tomb #nona the ninth #ntn #gideon the ninth #gideon nav #kiriona gaia

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yandere-paramour · 2 months

Text

Chapter 2

"Darling, please calm down. You are still disoriented from your medicine and I do not want you to get hurt."

You froze. Did you just hear that? No way you just heard that. Clearly, something had happened earlier. Maybe this was an incredibly real hallucination. You hoped it was a hallucination.

“Hello, love. It is good to see you awake. I was about to be very, very upset with my hired hand,” The voice spoke again.

It took a little longer than you’d ever admit, but soon you successfully turned your head to your right. Even though you knew something was wrong, knew you were somehow in peril, it made you feel better that that voice was female. She was big, though; you couldn’t quite tell because she was sitting with her legs crossed, but you were pretty sure she was tall. Her body was lean, and although it was covered with her expertly tailored blue-grey suit, you suspected she had considerable muscle. Hazel eyes stared back at you with fondness as she tapped a spoon on the edge of her teacup. Her hair was brown, with those effortless curls you always found yourself attracted to. Unintentionally, you blushed. Had you… slept with this goddess?

You opened your mouth to say something, an apology, a question, a request for help, but she held up a hand, gave you a gentle smile with perfectly straight teeth, and set down her empty cup, “I am so sorry, Darling. I know this must be really frightening for you, but I need you to stay calm. I am not going to hurt you. Now, I did this earlier, but I need to check you over. The medicine you had was strong, so I want to make sure you’re okay.”

She crosses the room and leans over you, still whispering soft words to mollify you. She checks your pulse on your limp wrist, timing it to her watch, then softly pushes your hair back to look into your eyes, “Are you feeling dizzy at all? Nauseous?”

“I-I have a headache. And I’m dizzy.” You manage to say. Your tongue feels like it’s made of lead. A million questions run through your head. Were you drugged? How did you get here? Were you at a bar? Did you sleep together? Why can’t you move?

She frowns, the cupid’s bow of her mouth forming a lovely little pout, “That’s not good. I promise, I will give you some pain relief right after we have a talk. I do not like to see you suffer. You’re going to be on this medicine for a few days so I want you to be comfortable.”

A bit of dread rises in you, “What medication am I on?”

“Just something to help you relax, and only for a few days until you get acclimated.”

“Did you… drug me?”

“I did not do it myself per se, but I did arrange for it to happen. Worry not, I consulted with my personal physician about your medical history to make sure you would not have any negative reactions. I would never make you take anything that would hurt you.”

“Who are you and where am I,” You want to sound forceful but the drug still has its claws in you like an angry tiger.

She gives you another adoring smile, “You are right, I should have introduced myself right when you woke. I am Atalanta Montclair.”

“Atalanta Montclair?” It takes a second for your brain to place the name but it hits you like a bolt of lightning, “You mean the heir to Montclair Industries?”

She looks pleased that you’ve heard of her, “Yes, that is I.”

Horror causes stupid words to flow out of your mouth, “I slept with my boss???”

“No, sweetheart. My hired hands gave you a little of your medicine in apple juice, then safely transported you to my penthouse. I changed your clothes myself; I did not want you to sleep in that uncomfortable uniform. I promise, there was nothing untoward in my actions.”

Despite her words, your alarm only grows, “You kidnapped me?”

“I had you safely transported to your new life with me, Darling. This is now our penthouse apartment, your new home. More precisely, this is the master bedroom, our bedroom together.”

“M-My new life with you? What does that mean?” Thoughts of the worst cloud your mind, “In your bedroom, as your… your sex slave?”

“No!” She says sharply, then catches herself and returns to her poised countenance, “You are my precious Darling, the only one I love and the only one I will ever love. I am devoted to you and you alone. You will be my companion, my partner, the most precious person in my life, and, when you’re ready, my lover.”

“Your lover?” You can’t even form words of your own at this point.

“Yes, my love,” She takes and kisses the back of your limp hand, kneeling at the bedside, “You have my word that nothing will harm you here. I will never touch you sexually until you ask for it.

“You fucking kidnapped me?” You jerk your hand away from her.

She looks shocked at your language, “You would not have agreed to come with me otherwise. I had you very safely transported. I spared no expense for your safety.”

You push yourself into sitting up by sheer force of will, “But you fucking kidnapped me? I don’t even know you.” “But I want to,” She tries to grab your hand again, “I want to learn everything about you, my Darling. Just give me the chance.”

“No!” You swing your legs over the side of the bed, narrowly missing kicking her.

You try to push yourself to your feet, but your legs are still wobbly, and you collapse under your own weight, plummeting to the ground. But Atalanta is in the way, and she catches you. You were right; she is tall. She is at least six feet, giving her seven inches over you. She holds you in her arms, not helping you back on the bed or letting you fall, just what feels like… cuddling you.

“Darling, your hair is so soft. I touched it when you were sleeping but now that you’re awake to give me your permission, it feels exponentially better,” She nuzzles her face into your hair.

“I do not give you permission!” you squeak, appalled at the sudden intimacy. You try to push her away from you, but she cuddles you a little longer, then sets your unsteady form on the bed.

“My apologies, Darling, you are just so irresistible. I will be more respecting of your consent in the future,” She at least has the decency to look chastised.

“The future? How long am I staying here?”

She gives you a confused smile, “Forever, sweet girl. I will never, ever let you go. Now, it is approaching dinner time. May I get something for you to eat?”

You look at her like she is insane (which she is). How the fuck are you supposed to sit at a table and eat your vegetables with the hot woman who kidnapped you?

“Atalanta, please let me go. I don’t have a lot of money, but I can give you whatever you want. I don’t want to be stuck in this room forever. Please, please let me go,” You babble, begging her to come to her senses and hear you out.

An anxiety attack starts to overwhelm you until you are trembling. Atalanta lightly shushes you, using one hand to stroke your hair, “Settle down, love. I’ve got you, and you are safe. Take a deep breath.”

This only makes you want to fight harder, trying to push her away with your shaky arms. She grabs your hands, pressing kisses to the backs of them while keeping them firmly in her hold.

“I promise, my princess, you will never want for anything again. I’ll take care of you. I have enough money for the both of us to live comfortably forever,” She gives a quick kiss to your forehead, “And I would never keep you locked away. A beautiful flower like you deserves a chance to grow.”

She kisses your head again and continues, “You can access the top two floors of the building, those I use for my living space, now our living space. No space is off limits to you, my love. For a little while, you will be restricted to the penthouse unless I am with you, but once you’re a little more settled, we can discuss short trips out by yourself. I have been dreaming of taking you to the theatre, and maybe in a year, we will be able to go.”

“A year?” You screech, floored.

To my credit, she does flinch back from my scream, “Careful, Darling girl, I will not discipline you while you are on your medicine, but that does not mean you will escape punishment later.”

This sufficiently scares you into lowering the volume, “Discipline me?”

She looks vaguely uncomfortable, but pats your head, “I have two punishments in mind, but let’s not get into those until necessary, okay? I want our first night together to be pleasant. Now, back to my earlier question, what may I order for you to eat? Anything you like, sweetheart, just ask. Or I can cook for you if you prefer. I am no chef but I can make simple things.”

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gwenllian-in-the-abbey · 23 days

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what do you think could have been some ripple effects if the dance was somehow delayed by 7 years? what do you think the ripple effects could have been in favour of/against the greens as well as the blacks?

I admit to jumping the queue in my ask box for this question because it's really interesting!

The first thing that comes to mind is that Lord Corlys would almost certainly be dead. This, I think, is the biggest factor. He dies in canon only 3 years after Viserys and he's 79 at that point, so I'm going to assume he would have died around that age regardless. So if Corlys dies, there might legitimately be a Driftmark succession crisis before there's one for the Iron Throne. Now Lucerys presumably has the support of his family and can probably win any conflict, but at what cost? It's also true that this could give the realm a preview of what might happen were Jace to attempt to succeed Rhaenyra to the Iron Throne. And that's if Luke remains the undisputed heir after taking the Driftwood Throne, which I don't necessarily think is a given. Luke is inexperienced and the men of the fleet are going to resent him. At the end of the Dance the other side of the Velaryon family tried to overthrow Alyn, but he and Baela managed to reconcile with them, but with Luke? I think there's a chance that most of Corlys' fleet defects to the greens the moment Viserys dies.

Over on the green side, Aegon's kids are older and that's two more potential dragonriders in Jaehaera and Jaehaerys. Both Sunfyre and Tessarion would be larger too. Daeron and Aemond have almost certainly made marriages of their own, or at least betrothals, with brides to be married as soon as Viserys died.

There are also a lot of wild cards, like Daemon. In 7 years his sons are in their late teens and it might be harder to watch Jace inherit over them when they're promising young men than when they're little kids. How likely is he to get bored and shit stir? How likely is it that things have soured between him and Rhaenyra? Does Jeyne Arryn still die in 134? If so, the Vale is facing it's own succession crisis at that point. Does the Winter Fever still hit at the same time? The demographic that seems most affected by that seems to be people in their 30s-50s, so do Daemon, Rhaenyra, Alicent, Otto, all survive it?

I think that overall things do not look as good seven years down the line for the black faction. There are a lot of problems festering with their allies that have simply not come to a head yet when the Dance breaks out in canon. On the other hand, the greens have 7 more years to shore up alliances, for their baby dragons to grow, and for Aegon, Aemond, and Daeron to mature. The wild card factors mostly don't bode well for Rhaenyra's cause either.

#asks #hypotheticals #f&b #hotd #house velaryon #dance of the dragons #team green #anti team black #not really this is a value neutral post but you know

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stheresya · 9 months

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Sansa being insecure about people's perception of her wits:

"Joffrey laughed. “He’s my mother’s dog, in truth. She has set him to guard me, and so he does.” “You mean the Hound,” she said. She wanted to hit herself for being so slow. Her prince would never love her if she seemed stupid.[…] (Sansa I, AGOT) …... “Your Grace,” he said sharply. “You truly are a stupid girl, aren’t you? My mother says so.” “She does?” After all that had happened, his words should have lost their power to hurt her, yet somehow they had not. The queen had always been so kind to her. (Sansa VI, AGOT) ...... […]I killed a man last night who was bigger than your father. They came to the gate shouting my name and calling for bread like I was some baker, but I taught them better. I shot the loudest one right through the throat.” “And he died?” With the ugly iron head of the quarrel staring her in the face, it was hard to think what else to say. (Sansa III, ACOK) …... “[…]The Queen of Thorns, she’s called. Isn’t that right?” “It is.” Ser Loras laughed. He has the warmest laugh, she thought as he went on, “You’d best not use that name in her presence, though, or you’re like to get pricked.” Sansa reddened. Any fool would have realized that no woman would be happy about being called “the Queen of Thorns.” Maybe I truly am as stupid as Cersei Lannister says. Desperately she tried to think of something clever and charming to say to him, but her wits had deserted her." (Sansa I, ASOS) …... "[…] Oh, why did I have to mention Ser Robar? Sansa thought. I’ve ruined everything. [Ser Loras] is angry with me now. She tried to think of something she might say to make amends, but all the words that came to her were lame and weak. Be quiet, or you will only make it worse, she told herself. (Sansa I, ASOS) …... “You are very beautiful, Sansa,” [Tyrion] told her. “It is good of you to say so, my lord.” She did not know what else to say. Should I tell him he is handsome? He’ll think me a fool or a liar. She lowered her gaze and held her tongue. (Sansa III, ASOS) …... “Harry the Heir?” “Lady Waynwood’s ward. Harrold Hardyng. I suppose we must call him Ser Harry now. Bronze Yohn knighted him.” “Oh.” Alayne was confused. Why should Lady Waynwood’s ward be her heir? She had sons of her own blood. One was the Knight of the Bloody Gate, Ser Donnel. She did not want to look stupid, though, so all she said was, “I pray he proves a worthy knight.” (Alayne III, AFFC)

there's a general consensus that Sansa is a charming girl with great social skills. and that is true to some extent like she's not shy and she's capable of striking up a conversation with anyone. but we can see here that she's not very confident of herself when interacting with people, that she's often overthinking her words in fear of being perceived as stupid or callous. because she wants to be a graceful lady but one cannot be graceful if they're seen as non-clever. i dare say that Sansa's fervent adherence to courtesies is a way for her to deal with her social insecurities through the use of formulaic conversational phrases that she thinks will provide her with positive social interactions.

#girl cannot put up a fight in the idgaf wars 😔#sansa stark #asoiaf #valyrianscrolls

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thewritetofreespeech · 1 year

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prompt: you’ve been feeling under the weather, and Byakuya fears the worst

It felt very awkward. Sitting here, in a thin robe, on a lofted table, waiting for the doctor to come back.

You had been very fortunate in your life to not be bothered with much ailment or injury. So, your experience with doctors was limited. Recently, however, you had been feeling more and more run down. Chronic headaches. Sudden bouts of dizziness when you stood up too quickly. You had brushed it all off, attributing it all to working too hard. But when you woke up and suddenly vomited even before breakfast, Byakuya had had enough and called for a physician.

“You really didn’t have to take off work.” You comment during the lull. Your husband sitting beside your table, stoic as ever, as you both waited on the doctor.

“Renji can handle it for a day.”

“You’re going to be sorry when it’s nothing and he’s burned the place down.” You reply maliciously.

“I would still like to stay.”

You huff and cross your arms. There was no get out of this.

Although you found this all incredibly tedious, Byakuya had made up his mind and that was that. You supposed it was just easier to humor him than anything else, but it was still so frustrating to waste time sitting here and being treated like a child.

The door opened and the doctor came in. You have half a mind to ask him what took so long. Since he was the private physician of the Kuchiki family, it wasn’t like he had other clients to see, but you decide against it.

“So what’s the diagnosis?”

“Well, first, let me assure you that it’s nothing to worry about.” He replied, with an off-putting grin that made your skin crawl. “This is a very common condition for couples. I’m surprised you haven’t come to me with this issue sooner.” Both you & Byakuya look confused and irritated by the doctor’s cryptic nature. He coughed once and apparently decided to be professional. “Lady Kuchiki is with child. Fairly early based on the symptoms and standard tests, but let me be the first to congratulate you both on an heir to the Kuchiki line!”

There was a loud ringing in your ears. Pregnant. Pregnant? You were pregnant. You were pregnant right now. Sitting here, in this moment, right now, you were pregnant.

“I’ll leave you two alone to talk.” You barely register what the doctor was saying, but the snap of the door hitting the frame seemed to break you out of your spell.

“Well….that is something…” You feel a hand wrap around yours in your lap. Feeling it shake against you.

You turn your head towards your husband whose other hand was covering his eyes. His lower face twisted in pain. A single tear escaping. “…Byakuya?”

“I’m so relieved.”

The sound of grief in his voice when he choked out those words almost made your heart stop.

You forget sometimes about Hisana, his first wife. Her picture was still in the shrine, along with his parents & grandfather, but Byakuya doesn’t like to talk about her. On the rare occasion he does it’s only ever about how she liked plum blossoms, and his guilt on not being able to save her from her illness.

Suddenly you felt very selfish. You had been fighting about going to a doctor for a simple examination, all the while Byakuya was probably terrified his worst fear was happening again.

You slid off the table in a single hop and come around to in front of Byakuya to wrap him in your arms. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think about how this might be affecting you.” His arms wrap around your waist in return. Holding you tight. As if he needed to know you were there. “But…this is a good thing. We can be happy now. We know what’s wrong and…we’re having a child.”

“A child.” Byakuya repeated. A dampness was felt on your robe when he pulled away from your breast. Yet somehow, he looked as he always did when he turned up at you. “We have a child.”

“Your family will be so pleased.” You jest as you stroked his long hair. “I’ve finally fulfilled my destiny to the Kuchiki line. My life is complete.”

“Nonsense.”

His muttering was a testament to how little he cared about his extended family’s opinion. Duty and honor aside, he cared very little about anyone’s input than you and Rukia. And soon, you supposed, your child.

“Can we go now?” You ask now that you have gotten your answers. “It still all hasn’t sunk in, and I’d like to be at home in our rooms in case I spontaneously burst into tears.”

Byakuya smiled, then leaned up to give you a kiss before he stood to leave the room. Respecting your privacy and modesty.

You change out of the drafty robe provided and back into your clothes. Catching site of your form in a mirror and get a mental flash of it changed from what it was now to one swollen and heavy with child. You quickly finish dressing and make an insistence for Byakuya to take you home. Before the tears started.

#byakuya kuchiki #byakuya x reader #kuchiki byakuya #bleach #bleach scenarios #bleach imagines #byakuya scenarios #scenarios #imagine #bleach x reader #bleach x you #bleach tybw #hisana kuchiki

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stealingyourbones · 1 year

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DP/DC WEEK DAY FIVE

Prompts for November 18th. @avaritia-apotheosis

My Masterlist of DP/DC Prompts.

A Royal Problem:

All magic users could sense that something was very very wrong. No one was sure of what exactly but they knew that extremely powerful magic scales of power were shifting and they were shifting fast. Smashcut to Danny. Have you ever suddenly gone from a relatively powerful hero to a being to the power of a god within a day? You probably haven’t but let it be known that it is anything BUT pleasant.

(Danny, Jazz, or Danielle) have a slight issue. Their significant other has been slowly forming a core ever since they started dating. Asking Frostbite, it’s because of a very powerful and ancient spell that assures the Ruler of the Infinite Realms (and their heirs) to have their chosen lover for the rest of the afterlife. They need to discuss this with their significant other because they did NOT sign up for this.

Someone’s bound to notice all the weird things in Amity:

Oliver Queen heads to Amity to make a deal with VladCo. He’s truly baffled why the JL hasn’t been informed of this town. Genuinely. How the fuck does this place not get constant press coverage? Strangest yet, Why does literally no one believe that he ever went to the town in the first place, much less his stories of strange shit that happened during his stay? Why does no one even acknowledge that the town even exists?! What is happening?!

Amity Park has been considered a deadzone for decades. A subsidiary of Manhattan Project branch Chicago Pile-1 had been located in Amity Park, Illinois. Its main research was to test the substance known as Ectoranium. After The Amity Reactor Incident in 1947, The town was considered a Nuclear Exclusion Zone. Finally in the year 2022, the town was finally declared safe to enter with protective gear. Sure, they expected a ghost town, but not a literal one. Somehow, against any and all predictions, the Town of Amity Park was still alive. Every single resident that was present in Amity on the day of the incident was still living and thriving. Each resident hasn’t aged a day since the reactor core went off. Somehow -there is a lot of somehow’s. Just as much if not more than the Who, What, Where’s and Why’s.- Somehow, the town managed to progress with the rest of society until 2003. After that point modern technology, fashion, everything. It all just... stopped. The town acted like something out of a cheesy tv show. Not a single resident had more than surface level amounts of personality. All besides four teenagers. The anomalies names are the following: Jasmine “Jazz” Fenton, Daniel Willian “Danny” Fenton, Samantha “Sam” Manson, and Tucker Foley. These four teenagers are seemingly the only “real” people in this entire town. They are the only people to have been affected mentally by these Ectoranium entity attacks. These children all show signs of severe mental trauma. Further testing and evaluations by a Psychologist is needed for an in depth examination. Possible causation of the four anomalies: All were present in the Fenton household on the day the Infinite Realm Portal was activated.

Jason goes to Amity and keeps hearing a voice that isn’t his own in his head. The things it says keep getting stranger. From informing him of the fastest and best route to avoid a ghost attack, to informing him of the best place to eat in town without ever being in the area, to encouraging Jason to check out the Fenton household. At first he doesn’t notice it. But after a few instances he can tell that something is speaking to him. Trying to communicate with him. The voice, Amity Park, wishes to protect the young halfa as it reminds them of their young protector.

A Royal Problem & Someone’s bound to notice all the weird things in Amity:

JL goes to Amity from a JL emergency call that they had absolutely no idea who the source of the call was. The caller talks like they’re acquaintances. After talking to their caller in Amity they figure out that they DO know each other… The League just Doesn’t Remember. Apparently Amity makes sure that no possible threat befalls Its Protector and wipes the minds of any outsider that leaves its borders. (Sentient Amity AU)

#FUCK I FORGOT YESTERDAY AND I HAD IT ALL WRITTEN OUT YALL GET AN EXTRA PROMPT AS A SORRY #danny phantom #dp x dc #dc comics #writing prompts #dpxdc #DP/DC WEEK 2022 #dp/dc

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dorotheashome · 27 days

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one idea for a hp fanfic - that will never be written, as there’s no way it can work without some characters being very ooc - is Narcissa and Sirius somehow geting stuck together in grimmuld place during order of the phoenix. This will never happen, but the idea has so much potential.

imo Sirius and Narcissa have one of the most interesting black family dynamics to theorise about, because there’s so many interesting ways you can take it. So much angst and potential for tension/anger/feelings of betrayal etc. Some ideas for this scenario;

- Narcissa arguing with Sirius about his complete lack of regard for their house, throwing away ancient black family heirlooms etc.

- Sirius blaming Narcissa for Regulus’ death - my headcanon is, whilst Sirius spent time with the Potter’s, Regulus went to the Malfoy’s. In Sirius’ mind this allowed Lucius to get into Regulus head about Voldemort - what Sirius doesn’t know is Narcissa begged Regulus not to join (even Lucius - more subtly - tried to convince him not to).

- Sirius does a lot of passive aggressive things ie deliberately gives Narcissa Regulus’ bedroom, kept exactly as is, as a way to punish her. Eventually it cultivates to the mother of all arguments.

- Sirius calling her Cissy. I don’t know why but this just makes me go feral.

- back in the day, Narcissa’s father wanted Sirius and Narcissa to get married (relating to his own insecurities, feeling second best to his sister, not being the heir etc). This wasn’t a very popular idea, even amongst the black family first cousins marrying was.. a little too far (and I don’t think traditional arranged marriage was a thing - it was more like, here’s 10 approved people, you choose) but he was really trying to push it (if he can’t inherit, at least his daughter will). Narcissa knew this but Sirius never did. He was 4/5 years younger and by the time he would be old enough to know, it was never going to happen anyway. Sirius reaction would be hilarious if this came up somehow lol.

#sirius black #narcissa black #narcissa malfoy #hp #this is far fetched but so interesting to think about #disclaimer - I prescribe to the hc that Lucius and Narcissa love each other and have a happy marriage #so it wouldn’t be to escape her marriage or anything #ideas I’ve had - Lucius is really really unhappy with Voldemort being back #(which is canon)#and decides to go informant #(which is definitely NOT canon lol)#other idea - bellatrix targets druella after getting out of Azkaban #the order find out and somehow (bonus if andromeda is involved!!) convinces Narcissa and druella they need to cooperate #for their own safety #neither scenerio is very realistic lol #this is wat happens when I re-read Harry Potter lol

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evilhasnever · 1 year

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Funky xiyao prompt: Modern reincarnation au— the Lans remember but no one else does. JGY is stressed and upset because LXC's family hates him with no apparent reason.

Thank you, this is such a juicy prompt!! I got inspired for some reincarnation shenanigans today, I hope you enjoy.

(no CWs except perceived classism)

xiyao - modern reincarnation AU

When Lan Huan invites him to their “grand occasions” date spot, Meng Yao knows what to expect. This was their first date restaurant, a place expensive enough that Meng Yao had been on pins and needles the whole time - yet casual enough that Lan Huan had worn just jeans, a T-shirt and a fancy leather wrap bracelet, distracting enough in itself to get Meng Yao through dinner without panicking.

It has been seven months since then and they’ve been going steady, but Meng Yao knew it in his bones that it couldn’t last. Experience tells him all good things come to an end, and this has been the best thing to happen to him yet, so it stands to reason that Lan Huan took him here for one last bout of nostalgia. One last expensive dinner bestowed on the food stamps kid, before he likely tells him they simply aren’t going to work out. The thought infuriates him, even though he knows Lan Huan likely sees it as a kindness. No text breakups for Lan Huan, he is too pleasant and tactful for that level of disrespect.

Meng Yao isn’t being paranoid. He has irrefutable evidence that the Lan family, as a whole, detests him. He has met Lan Huan’s uncle and guardian exactly once, and the man obstinately refused to even look at him. Lan Huan’s brother is worse, somehow, because he stares at him intensely every time they cross paths and couldn’t even muster paltry pleasantries when Lan Huan introduced them.

It is hard not to draw a logical connection between their different lots in life and the Lan family's stubborn cold shoulder towards Meng Yao. It is entirely unsurprising that old money elite like the Lans would turn up their nose when Meng Yao started skulking around their heir - who wouldn’t be suspicious? Except it had been Lan Huan who sought him out, Lan Huan who asked him out, Lan Huan who seemed trepidant that he would be turned down, absurdly.

So even though his family obviously disapproves, Meng Yao had to conclude that Lan Huan himself genuinely liked him. He doesn’t think himself particularly lovable, but he can tell Huan-ge is not the type to fuck someone he does not genuinely care for. Small mercies.

It had been nice while it lasted, but the signs are now clear - halfway through the date Lan Huan started minutely fidgeting with his watch, looking down at his lap rather than holding prolonged eye contact as he usually does. Meng Yao eats his fancy dinner in bitter silence.

“A-Yao…” Lan Huan finally says over the organic tiramisu they’ve been picking at. “You have probably already guessed I have something to say.”

Meng Yao takes a deep breath and holds it in his lungs, a buoy to keep himself afloat. “Go on, Huan-ge.”

Lan Huan shakes his head for a moment, then takes out a little box and slides it gently across the table. Meng Yao stares at it blankly.

“I had a speech,” Lan Huan begins, “but I don’t really think it was good enough for this. So I will just come out and say it. A-Yao, would you… consider marrying me?”

Meng Yao can count on one hand the times in his life he’d been utterly poleaxed, and this one firmly tops them.

“You… want to get married?” he blurts out, forgetting all about composure. “There is absolutely no way your uncle will approve.”

Lan Huan’s brow crumples elegantly and he looks down, his fingers tracing the little velvet box almost stubbornly. “It’s 2023, A-Yao. I do not need anyone’s permission to get married.”

“But… but your family hates me,” Meng Yao stammers, brain trying to recalibrate itself too quickly. He’d been steeling himself to smile in the face of a breakup, and the face-turn is making his head spin.

“Why would you think so?” Lan Huan asks, in his gentle but diplomatic voice that means Meng Yao is right on the money.

“Huan-ge,” Meng Yao huffs. “Your uncle pretends I do not exist and your brother looks cross every time he is reminded that I do. I am pretty sure he had someone run a background check. It is very obvious that they have something against me.”

Lan Huan’s handsome face twists into a rare expression of discomfort. It would be fascinating, if it weren’t for the fact that Meng Yao hates to make Huan-ge unhappy for any reason.

“Is there… something you think they should hold against you?” Lan Huan finally asks, delicately but intently. He lets the question hang for much longer than it would normally be polite, looking half hopeful and half terrified.

Meng Yao can't help a frown. Other than being born poor, what crime has he ever committed? In another situation he’d pout to get Huan-ge to fuss over him, but this time his confusion is entirely genuine. ”Well. I didn’t go to Harvard, for one,” he tries to joke. “I assume your uncle wanted you to date among peers.”

“A-Yao’s academic and professional results speak for themselves. But,” Lan Huan sighs thoughtfully, “I am aware that people will often look at labels and no further. I promise you, Uncle is not such a person. He will come around once he realizes how much you have achieved on your strength alone. Don’t let anyone’s expectations get in the way of your ambition.”

Sometimes Lan Huan seems wise beyond his years - Meng Yao initially wrote it off as a by-product of his being obscenely educated, but on occasion his observations hit too close to home in a very personal way. It is almost unnerving.

“If you know my ambitions, you know that I do not want to marry rich,” Meng Yao murmurs, reaching out for the velvet case. He does not dare open it.

“I know,” Lan Huan promptly replies. “My proposal is entirely selfish. I would be the one with the most to gain if you said yes.”

Meng Yao chuckles sadly. “You are such a charmer, Huan-ge. There is no need to flirt at this point.”

“It’s no flirting, A-Yao,” Lan Huan says, staring at him with that deep-water gaze that occasionally seems to see beyond Meng Yao. “I am certain that I do not wish to live a life without you. If… If you also want me.”

Meng Yao has goosebumps, and he is not certain if it is because of Lan Huan’s unusual intensity or the enormity of the commitment he is considering. But that glimmer of uncertainty on his boyfriend’s gentle features is unacceptable, so he has to reach across the table to peck a kiss on his lips.

When he sits back down he opens the little box, almost fearful of finding a diamond too big to wear in public. He needn't have worried - Lan Huan, while a romantic, is never a show off. His sentiment is shown through care rather than big displays. The engagement ring sitting in the little velvet case is a gold band with a bluish-green inlay, rather masculine and simple in design.

“Jade?”

“Jade,” Lan Huan smiles, though Meng Yao has never seen him so nervous. “Do you like it?”

The ring fits perfectly, of course. Magically so. “Yes.”

He’d say he must have done something right in his past life to get a man like this if he believed in that stuff. But the point remains that Lan Huan is offering his heart in a little velvet case, and he simply cannot imagine not taking it. The thought of anyone else ever making Lan Huan squirm like this, care like this, plead like this, fills Meng Yao with turbid jealousy, immediately replaced with the taste of triumph. His answer was a rather foregone conclusion, he supposes.

“Alright.”

“Is that a…”

“Yes.”

His fiance rises to hug him tight, making him sputter through laughter as a glass is upturned in the process. He hugs back, and squeezes his eyes shut. His vision is swimming, for some reason.

When he finally releases him, Lan Huan’s eyes are red but he is grinning widely, nearly looking half his age from sheer joy. “Go on,” he says, “call your mother. I’ll go get the check so you can tell her about how I almost utterly fumbled this.”

Meng Yao pretends to be scandalized for a moment, then waves him off with a laugh and takes a picture of his ring finger to text to his mama.

After dinner they have excellent celebratory sex at Meng Yao’s apartment - it gets so enthusiastic that Lan Huan even forgets that weird foreplay of his, the “kissing-Meng-Yao’s-heart-until-it tickles” thing. Meng Yao enjoys his oddities, truth be told, but today he’s too well fucked to notice that Lan Huan forgot about his routine until the third round. Perhaps engagement sex just hits differently.

“Need to buy a desk and an easel,” Lan Huan murmurs against his nape in the sleepy, sweaty afterglow.

“What?” Meng Yao garbles back, ready to drop off at a moment’s notice.

“For me. Moving in. I assume A-Yao doesn’t want to move into the Lan’s family home with uncle.”

Meng Yao giggles hysterically, then reaches back to stroke Lan Huan’s hair approvingly. “Tomorrow, then.”

Irrational, caliginous thoughts crowd his half-asleep self, even as he drifts off into warmth. Sometimes he wonders if Lan Huan knows him better than he knows himself. Foresight is the only explanation for these occasional strokes of genius that manage to put even him on the backfoot.

But that can’t be right… if he did, he’d know better.

He tries to reason with his unconscious, but the darkest part of his dormant mind worries that Lan Huan wouldn’t have approached him all those months ago if he truly, truly knew him.

If he truly knew all about him, Er-ge would know to stay away.

It’s a good thing Huan-ge doesn't know, then.

#xiyao #xiyao drabbles #this one got long but it still goes onto the drabble pile #reincarnation AU #lan xichen #jin guangyao #meng yao #shiome fic

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ofstormsandfire · 2 months

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yharnam archaeology??? 👀👀👀

hi I forgot that the blog I was rbing that from was a blog I followed for bloodborne stuff LMAO

okay so. this is heavily inspired by

Me being an anthropology student (who got into it because Cynthia pokemon is an archaeologist and I adore her, I took one (1) class and then got really invested, the important thing is. Archaeology go brr)

Me taking a very interesting class this semester that focuses on paleopathology, which is as my professor put it "the study of ancient suffering" but realistically is figuring out whatever you can from human remains. Whereas archaeology as a whole is about human culture from material remains, which can be actual bodies but can also be other things like pottery and building foundations.

Me teetering on the brink of being way too into Bloodborne for my own good despite not normally being much of a horror fan or a fan of particularly grimdark things. I Don't Know What's Different About Bloodborne. (it's probably that I'm a lesbian and I like lady maria, sue me)

Anyway. I got to thinking one time after class. That archaeologists would be SO FUCKING CONFUSED BY YHARNAM.

I'm tentatively placing Bloodborne as somewhere in the nineteenth century based on general vibes (according to my dad and his deep passion for weaponry of all kinds, a lot of the things in the game would have been derived later, but tbh if I lived in a place that constantly had to deal with people turning into horrifying beasts I think I'd innovate the hell out of things to get better weaponry so I didn't die too) and this theoretical au would be set in the modern day. so it's been a Hot Minute since the game ended and I think I was considering Yharnam Sunrise as the ending for. Reasons.

There's this group of researchers who end up heading to Yharnam, bankrolled by some rich heir or something who's got more money than sense (he dies or possibly turns into a beast from stupidity very early on) and possibly they're the last in a bunch of groups who went there and died because even hundreds of years after the horrors there are still So Many Ways For It To Go Badly? Undecided on that front, I'm still trying to figure out what (if anything) would actually be preserved.

Highlights of my vague plans:

The team finds Gilbert's journal. They all get really attached to Gilbert because that just kind of tends to happen. Which is unfortunate because they know damn well he probably didn't survive very long after the last page in his diary, but they didn't find a body, so...?

It takes a while for them to realize that the very canine skeletons have human DNA. At which point everyone is just. Very fucking confused. And also are realizing that maybe all those writings about the beast plague weren't actually about rabies (which does not leave a trace on the skeleton, fun fact! I wanted to do my project on rabies but I had to pick a pathology that had an effect on the skeleton. Alas)

There are so many arguments over who that grave behind the Hunter's Workshop belongs to. SO MANY. (I personally think it's very likely that is Maria's, but the team won't have any way of knowing that! If the headstone is unreadable by game times it's not gonna be any more readable centuries later!)

You determine whether something is bone by licking it. Someone finds an Amygdala skull and somehow, through the sort of stupidity that only happens in horror movies before people realize they're in horror movies, someone gets dared to lick it. This results in a very horrified Insight increase and the revelation that the weird fucking thing is made of bone. Also, that Amygdala's ghost is interested in the team now. Oops. This probably will go fine, right...?

What the FUCK are they going to think of all the statues of Great Ones. Probably (reasonably) that they are statues portraying something with great cultural significance to Yharnam, and possibly religious significance. Less reasonable is the fact that Great Ones... actually exist... and that SOMEONE is going to get enough Insight by the end to see those Amygdalas. Possibly the whole team tbh.

There is going to be so much arguing over how the fuck to cite shit. How do you cite some guy who supposedly disappeared centuries ago and is still hanging around in another dimension that you honestly aren't sure how to leave But You'll Worry About That Later, The First Hunter Is A Primary Source!!! How do you cite a ghost. How do you cite hallucinations and visions.

Possibly the Doll sneaks onto the team by pretending to be a survivor of a previous expedition, because tbh I think the Moon Presence can do what it wants and I think it would be VERY interested in these new bitches rocking up to Yharnam after a while. And, y'know, that goes fine until someone finds a picture of her. Or of Lady Maria. (Or until they reach the Abandoned Old Workshop, depending on the situation and if there's another version of said doll there to be found.)

Every. Single. Member. Of the team. Has some connection to Yharnam. Almost none of them know this originally. They will find out. Rip to Rom the Vacuous Spider's great-great-grandniece who discovers the hard way (finding Byrgenwerth's paperwork) why she was the first in her family to graduate uni, just not the first to attend it.

(Notable exception to this rule is the person who is convinced that his great-great-great-probably a few more in there-grandmother is Lady Maria. This gets very funny when the descendant of the player Hunter trips into the Hunter's Nightmare, which still exists due to said player Hunter poking their head in and wisely dipping immediately, and who manages to prevent a bossfight by blurting out "oh shit you're Jerry's great-grandma!")

(There may be lesbianisms involved. And some light necromancy. Idk I like Lady Maria a lot and I got enabled too damn much and I think it would be very funny for the group to return to civilization with an extra person. Or two.)

In summary, I have no plot (yet) apart from archaeology and being way too invested in the game, but I really want to write this someday once I actually finish said game. And also I'm having a grand old time coming up with characters to put through the Horrors. The archaeologist is named Cynthia Parker and. Well. If you remember the superhero identity of a certain character called Peter Parker, you might be able to figure out who she's distantly related to.

Other ideas include: player Hunter descendant, someone very distantly descended from a Cainhurst exile, and Jerry who is 100% certain his great-several-times-great-grandmother is Lady Maria of the Astral Clocktower and is 100% wrong about that. Jerry is the single party member with no actual connection to Yharnam and we love him for it.

Thanks for the ask I'm incredibly flattered that you were intrigued enough to ask about this from my tags given that I followed you for your BB fics :>

#I swear I'll write this someday #bc it's hilarious #yharnam archaeology au #askbox #paranormal-potatoes #bloodborne #fanfic things #writing things

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star-girl69 · 1 year

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I Loved You Like the Sun

a/n: wow two updates in one day look at me go anyways i hope you all enjoy as always!!

warnings: swearing, mentions of blood, violence, death, like vaemond dies so very much death, tell me if i missed anything!!

Chapter Twenty- I Am Your Sword

—-

Each morning, you greet the day the same way. You entangle yourself from whatever position you had slept in, (tonight, you had fallen asleep with your head on Daemon’s chest and Rhaenyra pressed against your back,) and greet whoever you can reach.

You crane your head, reach your arms over your head, feel those satisfying pops. Daemon stirs, eyes closed, not quite awake. His hand reaches around blindly, somehow finding the back of your head.

“Kiss,” he murmurs, and you adjust to press your lips to his cheek. “Do it properly.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“You married me.” He juts his jaw out, waiting for you. You sigh, unable to resist him.

It’s quick, and his tongue only swipes the seam of your lips before you pull away. But he seems placated by that, muttering something and sinking back into the pillows.

Rhaenyra sits up, swinging her legs over the bed. she doesn’t get up, doesn’t make a move to do so. She simply sits.

You crawl over, swinging over to your knees to kneel behind her. Hands on her shoulders, you begin to knead. She sighs, and her head falls back.

“You’re nervous. I can feel it.” She hums, and silence retakes the room. Daemon shuffles in the sheets behind you. “You told me yourself there is no use worrying.”

“I was wrong.” She says, after a moment’s silence.

“Rhaenyra…”

But then the doors open, and she stands and you let your hands fall.

“We’ll speak later,” she says, and you watch as she sits at the vanity. Handmaidens descend upon her like vultures, until they part and she is a different person. Still yours. But different.

“Lady Y/N?” One of them asks, and you stand with a sigh, ready to be changed like her. You break your promise to your mother.

—-

You stand in between Daemon and Rhaenyra, watching as Otto climbs the steps to the throne.

Daemon says something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like “cunt,” but Otto starts talking before you can truly hear him.

“Though is is the great hope of this court that Corlys Velaryon survive his wounds, we gather here with the grim task of dealing with the succession of Driftmark. As Hand, I speak with the King’s voice on this and all other matters.” He sits, robes swishing out from behind him. “The crown will now hear the petitions.”

You admit, you are unsure of what is to happen in this hall. Rhaenyra poured over her speech with Daemon, practiced it in front of you, and while it was good, you do not know what Vaemond Velaryon is planning to say. What tricks he has pulled. The alliances he is in.

“Ser Vaemond of House Velaryon.”

The man shoots a look over to your side of the room, and you can practically feel Daemon’s anger in the air. He walks to the center, clasping his hands together.

“My Queen. My Lord Hand.”

Ah, you see. He means to use flattery, ploys of respect. Make it appear that he is good, benevolent and just. He would be a good ruler. He should rule.

“The history of our noble houses extends beyond the Seven Kingdoms to the days of Old Valyria. For as long as House Targaryen has ruled the skies, House Velaryon has ruled the seas. When the Doom fell on Valyria, our houses became the last of their kind. Our forebears came to this new land, knowing that were they to fail, it would mean the end to their bloodlines and their name. I have spent my entire life on Driftmark defending my brother’s seat. I am Corlys’s closest kin, his own blood. The true, unimpeachable blood of House Velaryon runs through my veins.”

“As it does in my sons, the offspring of Laenor Velaryon. If you cared so much about your house’s blood, Ser Vaemond, you would not be so bold as to supplant it’s rightful heir. No, you only speak for yourself and for your own ambition.” It seems like she will go on, and you feel the urge to applaud her. She speaks well, levelheaded.

But the Queen sees it fit to interrupt her.

“You will have chance to make your own petition, Princess Rhaenyra. Do Ser Vaemond the courtesy of allowing his to be heard.”

It was at this Ser Vaemond finally turned. His eyes passed over your family, Daemon, you, Rhaenyra, Luke, with Jace and Rhaena behind you.

“What do you know of Velaryon blood, Princess? I could cut my veins and show it to you and you still wouldn’t recognize it. This is about the future and survival of my house, not yours.” His gaze flicks to Luke, who sinks into himself. You long to press him close to you, save him from the cruel world. But Vaemond turns back to Throne, addressing the Queen and the Hand once more.

He inhales, bracing his feet.

“This is a matter of blood, not ambition. I place the continuation of the survival of my house and my line above all. I humbly put myself before you as my brother’s successor… the Lord of Driftmark and Lord of the Tides.”

“Thank you, Ser Vaemond.” Otto says, and he retreats back to his place.

Your eyes rest upon the Hightower Queen, her children. You admit, you barely know of them. Helaena, the only girl, is a Dragon Dreamer. Aemond is the one with the eyepatch, and Aegon is Rhaenyra’s rival in terms of the throne. But looking at him now, he seems uninterested. Blonde hair cut short, while most Targaryens keep it longer. He does not seem proud of his features, not like Daemon and Rhaenyra do.

“Princess Rhaenyra, you may now speak for your son, Lucerys Velaryon.” She bows her head, walking to the center of the room almost lazily.

“If I am to grace this farce with some answer, I will start by reminding the court that nearly 20 years ago, in this very-”

But she is cut off.

The doors open, and you see the figure of King Viserys, golden mask on his face and hunched over a cane. Even now, in his bone-thinness, in his weakness, it is undeniable that he commands a room.

“King Viserys of House Targaryen,” but the caller’s voice fades under the the loud banging of the King’s cane. He looks as he did the other day, as if it is a struggle to even stay alive. To breathe, his heart to beat. It only makes his walk more powerful, the eye’s of the court lighting up. They cannot resist a show.

You see Otto descend the steps of the Throne, his shocked and confused face. You watch as Viserys makes his way, golden crown upon his head.

He stops, and looks to Rhaenyra for a moment.

Before continuing, and whispering to Otto in a hoarse voice.

“I will sit the throne today.”

“Your Grace,” he nods. His power has been taken from him. He no longer commands this room.

Viserys continues his journey before stopping again, head leaning low to the ground. Guards rush forward, but he dismisses them. Finally, his crown falls. He leans his forehead against his cane, breaths uneasy and labored.

Suddenly, Daemon is leaning around him, picking up the crown.

You do not hear what Viserys says, but you see his posture change when he realizes who has come to his aid.

Daemon whispers something to him, and with his help, Viserys makes it to the throne. Daemon places the crown upon his head.

He stands there for a moment, before retreating. Rhaenyra returns beside you, as does Daemon.

You grab his limp hand, squeezing, but he does not acknowledge you. You do not blame him.

Viserys leans forward, and back again. Settling with a loud thump.

“I must… admit… my confusion. I do not understand why petitions are being heard over a settled succession. The only one present… who might offer keener insight into Lord Corly’s wishes is the Princess Rhaenys.”

The hall turns to her, and you see her falter for a moment. But she recovers quickly, bracing herself.

“Indeed, Your Grace.” She steps forward, stands with her hands clasped for a moment. “It was ever my husband’s will that Driftmark pass through Ser Laenor to his trueborn son… Lucerys Velaryon. His mind never changed. Nor did my support of him.”

The hall is silent for a moment, and you can feel the tension from your entire family leave quickly. Positions are affirmed. Bloodlines secure.

“As a matter of fact, the Princess Rhaenyra has just informed me of her desire to marry her sons Jace and Luke to Lord Corlys’s granddaughters, Baela and Rhaena.”

You cannot but let your lips part, the rest of Rhaenys’s words falling away to you. The boys turn to Rhaenyra, and she only nods in confirmation. They look between each other. You do not know what to think.

You suppose you cannot judge, seeing as how your wife and husband are uncle and niece. Not to mention, you are distantly related to them yourself.

You worry that they will not find love in each other. They should never be met with contentment when they seek love. They should only burn, burn like you have.

“Well… the matter is settled. Again. I hearby reaffirm Prince Lucerys of House Velaryon as heir to Driftmark, the Driftwood Throne, and the next Lord of the Tides.” He let’s out a wheeze, and you find yourself dropping Daemon’s hand to stand in front of Luke.

He looks up at you, pure joy across his face, in a smile only you can see. You press him to your chest, keep him yours for just one more moment. His hand still rests in Rhaenyra’s, but you feel her caress your shoulder with her other hand.

“You break law…” You do not turn, the rage in Vaemond’s voice enough to warn you that you do not want to see it. But Luke pulls away, looking around you.

“Luke,” you swear you have to bite back a sob.

“-and centuries of tradition to install your daughter as heir.” You do not turn, you cannot. You grab Luke’s shoulders, attempting to ground yourself to him, to your love for him. “Yet you dare tell me… who deserves to inherit the name Velaryon. No. I will not allow it.”

“‘Allow it’?” Viserys asks, tone incredulous. “Do not forget yourself, Vaemond.”

“That is no true Velaryon! Look at him, he hides behind the skirt’s of his parent’s whore like a child.”

“Go to your chambers,” Rhaenyra says, placing a hand on your shoulder and pushing you and Luke away. “You have said enough.” You wanted to leave, to take all of your children away from this wretched place. But none of them made a move to leave. So you stayed with them, as a mother should. Because you were their mother. Not by blood, but by something more than that.

“Lucerys is my true-both grandson. Daemon, Y/N and Rhaenyra were married as Aegon the conqueror was married to his two sisters. By the ways of Old Valyria. And you… no more than the second son of Driftmark.”

“You… may run your house as you see fit… but you will not decide the future of mine. My house survived the Doom and a thousand tribulations besides. And Gods be damned… I will not see it ended on account of this-” He stopped himself with a harsh inhale.

You turned. You did not know who he was addressing. But if you were to be insulted, you preferred to take it head on.

“Say it,” Daemon whispered.

“Her children… are bastards… raised in the company of… Both of your so-called wives, Prince Daemon, are a disgrace to any house they carry the blood of. And they… are… whores!”

The court gasped.

Luke reached for your hand through layers of skirts and you felt tears well in your eyes. Was this what the realm truly thought of your marriage? What they truly thought of you?

King Viserys stands, and your eyes blur with tears to see much of anything else clearly.

“I…” He breathes, taking his dagger out, “will have your tongue for that.”

But then you hear the sound of flesh splitting, of something hitting the floor. Once, twice. You blink your tears away, see the head of See Vaemond disconnected to his body.

“He can keep his tongue,” Daemon hisses.

“Disarm him!” Viserys shouts, and guards run forward. But Daemon only backs away, wiping blood off on his own clothes.

“No need,” he assures, heading back over to you and Rhaenyra. You stare at the dead body in shock, something like revulsion rising in your chest. You had never seen such blood… such unbridled rage and violence.

“D-Daemon-”

“I will not apologize for protecting my wives, Y/N.”

“But- but you- oh, I, I do not-”

But Viserys suddenly collapses on the throne, and Alicent screams for the maesters. You hear Rhaenyra call for her father, but is ignored.

A speck of blood rests on Daemon’s cheek.

You stare at it while the King is lead away, while servants rush forward to collect the body. You stare at it while he lets out a sigh, pleased at his revenge.

“You have blood on your cheek,” you whisper finally.

He meets your eyes.

“I am your sword. Your lover. Your husband. I had to. Besides, better mine than yours.”

—-

taglist:

@wondergal2001 @akiraquote @a-lil-bit-nuts @anginoguera @thatkinkylesgirl1 @stitchattacks @honeypillowsblog @kaloafd @blackhoodlea @softtina @wallace02sblog @tetgod @hotd-fanfic @rxscpctals

#daemon x rhaenyra #daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen x reader

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beatrizamante · 25 days

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The Fernweh Saga by @lacunafiction

Name: Lara "Raider" De Armas (she/her)

Personality: Sincere - Cautious - Friendly - Optimistic - Merciful - Shy

Traits: Head - Independent - Resistant - Believer

Past Affinity: Astronomy

Primary Ability: Extra Sensory Awareness

Past Susceptibility: Healing

Job (if mentioned): Astrophysicist / Physics Researcher

Social Dynamics (for both books, so far):

Bee

It was another "Winescope" Saturday night. That was the nickname Lara gave to the Saturday nights she'd call Bee, alongside her friends from the Observatory's Lab, and they'd discuss silly things, tell funny stories from the workplace while "getting alcoholed up" with good wine. She'd always invite Bee with the biggest hug and the hugest smile on her face.

She was still flush from laughing about some silly story when the mail came in. Somehow, something was different. She read the mail with the same efficiency and calm she'd do with a particularly difficult academic book. The bright smile on her face died slowly. The flush gave away to a pale tanned face. There was a distant look in her eyes.

Later that day, when she apologized to her friends and said an emergency occurred, Bee stood there. They wouldn't leave her without understanding and supporting their friend. Lara would always tell them they are the sweetest person in this world.

She explained the content of the letter, trying to give a very fragile smile to sooth them from any worries.

And now, after they came to help her with her load and everything happened, she'll take their load off of them.

She'll protect Bee with her life. And she dares anyone to try and hurt them. She shouldn't put them in this position in the first place. It's her fault.

It always is.

I'm sorry, Bee. You are an amazing person.

if(tentative_ro = "Beckett") {

You're my best friend. I won't jeopardize that.

But know that you are loved.

}

S. Dorran

It was weird seeing S again, after such a long time. Lara has vague memories from her childhood. Maybe too much information can do that to one's mind, alongside trauma.

But Lara does remember fondly of their reading nights at Turn the Page. And she'd always smile when S spoke up their opinions in class. It's something she really admired about them.

Even with their taciturness, she'd always love to talk with them about any subject. They were always filled with wonder on how things worked, just as she was.

That didn't change. They are the same quiet, extremely smart person she remembers. And she still can talk about any subject with them and just have fun talking.

She hopes they like her as much as she adores them.

Thank you for looking out for Pa. I don't know how I'll ever repay you, S.

if(tentative_ro = "Silas") {

What is this? Why do I want your company so much? This is normal right? RIGHT??

Don't look at his lips, Lara!

}

R. Verner

Lara could never understand exactly why R took an interest in her. They were an heir, and she wasn't a competitive child by any means. But the competitions were really fun, and something she looked forward to.

Funny that they didn't know how to react when she proposed a hug challenge. Huh. She'd study that reaction later on. If R wanted to call her a "rival", she didn't mind.

But she did call them her friend. She was really shy during the debates, though. R could have some sense and try not to mess with her so much. But she adored that in them too.

It was interesting seeing them again. They said they've waited for her? They seem so much more patient with her now. She'll never be able to figure them out completely, will she? Lara hopes R didn't felt so alone as they look now, behind all the teasing smiles.

She can't pick everything apart in the lab to try and understand them, not with people she cares about.

I'm sorry for leaving in such a difficult time, R. And I'm sorry you got hurt. I'll hunt down whoever did this, so they'll never have a chance to do it again.

if(tentative_ro = "Reese") {

Oh... Oh... OH...! Was that a "date"? Nonononono, my biggest love is the lab. My biggest love is the lab... his eyes are so blue and - LABLABLAB }

J. Corvin

JJJ, Lara missed you so much! So much. She missed all their nights reading comics and days just enjoying each other's company. Her memories from bike rides around lakes, of them cooking together with their mother or just basking in the sun eating oranges are so soft.

She missed their quiet company that would come alive whenever she was near. They were there with her when she discovered her passion for the stars. They learned to use a telescope together, and they would do Math marathons to learn more about charting while hiding under blanket forts.

She'd always pester them about everything going on her mind. And she insisted that they got the puzzle chrome part first, but they'd always put her first.

Something changed. There's something so guarded and angry about their posture now. Detective work must be so heavy on them. She wishes she could help ease their burden.

There are still softness in their eyes when they meet hers. But also there's a distance that she can't fix.

She can't fix everything. That much is clear. But it hurts. They never got her letters. That's why they have this cold anger whenever Pa is mentioned?

She should have tried harder. It haunts her the image of J following Pa's truck. Lara tried to reach out, but her hands only met glass.

if(tentative_ro = "James") {

This crush is old. Very very old. I'm not someone that has crushes anymore. So, ignore it, Lara. Don't look at his shoulders, or how his hands could -

I SAID DON'T LOOK.

}

Mal

Oh, who is this? Did Lara meet him before? She doesn't remember him from her childhood memories. But then again, her memories are... off...

What is this man? He knows so much, behind those enigmatic eyes. Why does she feel naturally pulled towards him? Lara doesn't understand... But she likes that he's kind. Even if it must hurt to smile like that all the time.

She wants to understand. He looks like so much more, a real... puzzle. She loves puzzles.

He does seem to enjoy giving her little jumpscares, because she is always jumping whenever he appears. Was very kind of him to bring her some tea after the forest search. It was a taxing night.

And he has a very interesting nickname! Curious... what an observing and unnerving man. Charmer, huh?

Let me in, I can help you if you wish so, Mal.

if(Mal_Romance = true) {

He looks really good. Haven't I noticed it before? Not that I usually do, but... Wait, why am I looking? It's disrespectful!!

He has a very beautiful smile when he's genuine, I wonder what would be if I ki-

PositivethoughtsPositivethoughtsPositivethoughtsPositivethoughts... WHY DO I FEEL LIKE THIS? AHHHH

}

Annnd I did a playlist for her. Yeah, I feel in an RPG rn.

About the Game and Lara herself:

First of all, I'd like to say a big thanks for @lacunafiction for this wonderful story. I'd give 139823274763254 positive reviews in every available platform because this story is awesome, eerie as hell, mysterious and romantic too.

If you guys have any interest in an amazing IF, I'd recommend Fernweh saga. I might be a little addicted right now and I did intend to start using this blog for something, so this something is going to be to recommend wonderful IFs <3

You can find the first book alongside the Patreon in this post: https://www.tumblr.com/lacunafiction/705620629743976448/some-homecomings-feel-more-like-rude-awakenings?source=share

Much love for this amazing author (*whispers* marry me, Aelsa) <3

Second, I'll gush a little about my little poor meow meow of a Dodo.

I just love how personalities are well written in this game , and that is what made me write this wall of text in the first place. The narrative is very fact-based, and something that I really loved, so I decided to make my MC a Head-oriented person with a science job, very unaware of her own emotions, but very observant and caring about others.

It's a nice juxtaposition for me.

Someone that is fiercely independent (believes the "teamwork makes the dream work!", tho), but is very shy and sweet.

Someone that is very head oriented, relies heavily on facts, but is incredibly friendly -a Dodo- (I love that in book 2 you have more joking options that are not so based in snark. Don't get me wrong, I love snarky humor and is greatly written here, but somehow the "... A metal mistress?" gets me every time <3)

Someone that is highly cautious, but oh boy, she is resistant as hell. She'll NOT bow down to anyone (except her Uni professors) and she'll face any fears head on. Whoever dares to hurt her or the people she loves will get hunted. But in a cold and calculating way.

I loved the Extrasensory Awareness, and it's even better that it is an *instinct*. Again, for someone who heavily relies on facts, it's funny to me. "Why do I feel like this????"

I didn't give Lara abandonment issues because she believed that her Grampa was trying to not lose her too. Even if in a very unhealthy way. She did fill her life with science and stars, building it up around the profession she fell in love with when a child. All thanks to J. It's a string that links her to her past. But she thinks that's all she can bring to the world. And she fear how coldly she can assess things, how unattached she can be with her own emotions when she is under pressure..

She's a moderate believer. Well, she couldn't exactly discount the walking tree, when it was walking right in front of her. That, my friend, is a fact.

Guilty gnaws at her. She feels guilty for bringing Bee here. She feels guilty for leaving J and R. Guilty over S being so perturbed about the city borders. Guilty about her whole family, who had to suffer such horrific deaths while she still walks this world. That's why she fills her life with her job. A starry sky is a graveyard of stars, is it not? Maybe they are watching over her.

And she is angry. Oh boy, she is livid. Who the fuck thinks they can do whatever they want with the people she loves? No one can mold her into a clay sculpture and expect her to just cave. She built her life mostly alone, and she'll not have that.

And overall, it's just very interesting to me to see Lara, a nerd, lab addicted scientist, who is deadly curious to understand everything in this world to be in this eerie place filled with mysteries and people she adores, falling in love for the first time and NOT KNOWING HOW TO COPE WITH IT.

She'll be the only MC that I'll play in this game because I really loved her personality. But if I had to choose a main RO, possibly it would be Mal because of the scientist X mystery idea. I chose all 5 of them, tho. MUAHAHHAA

And well, she is based on Lara Croft, as is abundantly clear. She is a very intelligent and curious woman, who goes to great lengths to discover mysteries and is very protective of the people she cares about (Jonah <3). This one, tho, is way softer than Croft <3 Aah a pin for her in Pinterest <3 https://br.pinterest.com/badgirlcs/lara-raider-de-armas/

#aelsa if fucking amazing #the fernweh saga #i'm a little obssessed #can't blame myselft #look at the ro's and tell me i'm being too much #I have to go on class #but read the books #seriously #gushing over all the ros here #aelsa #marry me

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landslided · 5 months

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Hi!

So Daniel and Tory, how would that go? What does Tory think of Daniel since she barely interacted with him? And on the other hand, would Daniel have to navigate some discomfort over knowing how much trauma she inflicted on Sam? (I think he has a better grasp on that than Amanda)

Would they ever have a sensei/student relationship? I'd like to see that explored to some degree in the show. (I say to some degree because I'm banking on Chozen to fill that role)

They obviously have very similar backgrounds, but how would Tory learn about it? From him? From Robby or Miguel? FrOm SaM?? Anyway, sorry for the rant and the million questions, feel free to cherry pick. :)

hi anon! thank you so much for all your questions and no i will absolutely not cherry pick them because they're all absolute gold! let's get into it:

how would i think a daniel and tory conversation go? funny thing is that i've written a chapter of two steps on the water (that hasn't been published yet) where i kind of answer that exact question.

i think daniel would be very on edge with tory at first. there is obviously a lot of history between tory and sam and i think daniel would never be able to entirely forgive tory for what she has done to sam, or at least not in a near future. i see daniel maybe forgiving her, let's say, ten years in the future when he's at the samtory wedding.... okay no let me get serious.

i think, like you said, daniel has a better understanding of the whole debacle between sam and tory than amanda but i also think daniel can sometimes be very blindsided by his own experiences and emotions and i feel like he would project a lot of himself into sam's situation, which would make sense since she's his daughter and she was the one attacked, only to get fucking kicked in the head with the realization that he understands tory very well.

i've talked about this with another person before and we both fully believe that in the concept of samtory is lawrusso 2.0, sam is johnny and tory is daniel in many ways. obviously the characters do not perfectly fit in each other's shoes but the similarities between them are obvious enough.

sam is a privileged young woman with a lot of ambition who finds herself trapped in her role as heir to her father's expectations and dreams. she's full of anger and other complicated feelings that she doesn't know how to express. she has had the chance of growing with her parents who are involved in her life, love her and want what is best for her and with a sensei/father who would NEVER harness her anger as a weapon. but sam wants to be a winner, she wants to be a fighter, she finds true meaning in leading the fight and that is something daniel doesn't understand because even if he'd shown an interest in karate back in jersey and before what happened with johnny, his desire was never to win competitions or be the best (around lol), he wanted to protect himself and learn a new skill because daniel is somehow who is fascinated by knowledge. meanwhile, johnny understands sam's need to prove herself and he understands her desire to fight and win. he gets that. we had a glimpse of that particular relationship in season 4 and im really sad we didn't get more of it.

as for tory, she does share a lot of similarities with johnny in terms of her relationship with kreese for example but there is an edge to her that is so very daniel. like i said in another post, i fully believe tory is raw and whole and honest to the point where it gets her into trouble which is something daniel shares. she is a fighter because of necessity but i don't think she finds the same joy in it sam does. not to say that i don't think tory likes karate or isn't good at it, but i think she would find a lot more of herself in miyagi-do philosophy than in cobra kai. she needs that balance, she needs to be able to fall back on someone and trust others and also herself and miyagi-do (an daniel) fill that category.

there is also a really interesting parallel to make between tory, daniel and their relationship with silver. both daniel and tory place a certain amount of trust in silver only to have that trust spit back into their faces. worse than that, silver twists the meaning of that trust, twists the meaning of tory and daniel's struggle into something ugly and dishonest. he manipulates them both into becoming and doing things they are intrinsically against in a way that is a lot more cruel than whatever kreese could have done to them both. (the cruelty of kreese is... much more apparent with johnny and with robby but that is anooooother discussion and if i start talking about the cobra fatherhood cycle again im gonna scream). i don't know if i really need to explain how tory and daniel's financial situation and how they both dealt with it is at the core of the matter here but just to kind of put it out there: daniel would totally understand tory's struggles and tory would hate his guts for it but she would probably accept his help and support more than amanda's.

i think, if daniel managed to make tory open up enough to him, either because she joined miyagi-fang and/or because she needed someone's help and she was directed to daniel, there would be a lot of self-discovery for the both of them because they are really really similar and i think daniel would probably be a little shaken by it but tory would be sooooo mad. she would be so angry that this dude who lives in the hills and drives an audi actually understands her because he's the father of the karate princess and that would! piss her off! so bad! but she would be understood by an adult maybe for the first time in her life and there would be a certain comfort in that.

i don't know that daniel would be tory's sensei, not that i think he wouldn't do a fine job of it but i think maybe that would make sam lose her mind. even post-season 5, i think the peace between sam and tory is fragile and if sam saw her father teach tory any sort of karate she would bite through her hand. but! kind of in the same way that even now i think daniel CANNOT witness johnny really teach sam karate because there is just something in that particular concept that triggers in him a fight or flight response (which for daniel is always fight). chozen would be the perfect sensei for tory because i think he would understand her on some level to and know how to channel her emotions in a positive and safe way.

as for the kids. i think robby and tory could totally bond over the fact that hey, actually we kind of dig that guy he kinda gets it meanwhile miguel and sam are throwing tornado kicks with johnny and don't really need to expand on the subject because they like johnny for really different reasons. sam and tory? god, i think sam would be relieved that tory is working through her things with her dad but she would also be extremely jealous and tory would tease her about it. like i said, their peace is fragile but i believe in them <33

i don't know if this was in any way what you were expecting when you send me this anon but i hope i somehow answered your questions and that i made sense!

thank you again!!

#*asks #tory #daniel

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oenimo · 8 months

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What I want, what I wanted, but I know I’ll never get and the words “heir to the empire” have only cemented this as 100% not happening anymore

(fair warning that this is directly pulling from details from the Thrawn and Thrawn Ascendency books)

Ezra, furious and hurt and just barely eighteen makes the purgill attack the chimaera, makes them grab and break and pull it into hyperspace, makes them disappear into Wild Space. They crash into an unknown planet far from the know galaxy. Luckily, it’s habitable for humans, and slowly the surviving Chimaera crew wakes up, as do Thrawn and Ezra.

Stuck with nowhere to go, Ezra begrudgingly has to cooperate with the crew. Thrawn is furious with him, but practical (with a little bit of help from bridge crew to calm him down), and they don’t even like, jail Ezra. This is wildly confusing to Ezra, but in a good way, but he knows that even with the weird free trust he’s being given he still has to stay with them because no matter how good a Jedi, he can’t live on a completely unknown planet alone, let alone get off it without at least using the crash salvage

Slowly, Ezra begins to vaguely trust some of the chimaera crew. Not Thrawn, he’s still so suspicious of him, why is he doing this, why does he seem… so different than Ezra is used to? And he can’t forget how thunderously angry Thrawn during their first interaction after the crash. He’s calm now, but he was so angry. Why? When will it come back??

Eventually, things change. For a while there’s weird, rebuilding and building a new life vaguely, looking at if the bits of the chimaera can be salvaged to contact someone (but also knowing that none of the stars are familiar, they are so far from knowledge, who would they even manage to contact in this area?).

But the surviving chimaera crew ends up splitting, imperial loyalists finally having enough of the casual disregard for regulations and punishment Thrawn et al have been showing in regards to Ezra, as well as just… generally getting fed up and sick of listening to Thrawn et al when they’re letting Ezra be chill.

Unfortunately, the Thrawn loyalists (aka, the people on Ezra’s side) end up outnumbered because it’s hard to compare “previous loyalty to a man who literally is letting the guy who got you stuck here roam free and even asking for his help with shit and this guy is also an alien and the vast majority of imperials are xenophobic even if they’d grown to respect him it’s hard not to fall back given the extra hating circumstances” to “I am stuck on a completely unknown planet and it’s literally their fault”. This all leads to a split in factions of survivors, with Thrawn and loyalists being essentially run out of camp lest they be killed, and Ezra stuck going with them because somehow (it’s still baffling to him) this is the group that wants him dead the least.

In a far, far locale, skywalker Un’hee begins, pretty immediately after the battle of Lothal, to be plagued with dreams. Not all bad, most just kinda weird, but soon she starts seeing scenes of war and destruction and scenes of crash and desperate survival on an unfamiliar planet. The whole thing from start to finish is weird for her because it’s mostly humans, and some other aliens she’s never seen before, so how are they in her head? But when the worse dreams start, and then get worse, and then when she finally gets the crash landing dreams that are filled with a deep sense of “come help us come find us you’re the only one who can find us”, she ends up talking (crying) to Eli about it.

And he’s like. Ummmm. That sounds sus. I am… concerned. Because when she describes it, he knows she’s talking about humans. And it even sounds like empire humans. And maybe even his imperial colleagues. Who Un’hee really shouldn’t know???

So they go talk to Ar’alani, who promptly goes OH FUCK ME SIDEWAYS WITH A FRUIT STICK and calls up Thalias, Che’ri, and Samakro (of whom Samakro definitely should have his name changed, and Che’ri almost certainly too).

Between the 6 of them and Vah’nya, with talks with Ba’kif and the rest of the CDF and CEDF, they end up sending a small search party for Thrawn et al. Un’hee and Eli for sure, possibly other big names, possibly minor support characters (like crew for a ship Eli gets out in charge of) or possibly literally just Eli and Un’hee. The ascendancy did, after all, kick Thrawn out. And they are, after all, relying on a 9 year old’s visions. And even though it’s happened before, that’s really dubious ground to stand on for committing resources to, especially when shit is dangerously close to hitting the fan in the ascendency itself then as well.

Cue lots of space adventures for both parties, as Eli’s party travels from the Unknown Regions to wherever the fuck Thrawn+Ezra’s ended up, dodging plenty of people against the chiss and probably some people with history with Eli (he’s not… really a friend to the empire anymore lmao), Eli trying to keep Un’hee safe and hidden, Un’hee trying desperately to follow her visions to the right places, and meanwhile the looming threat of the grysks hangs in the back of their mind that they really need to get back, they really need to bring Thrawn back, etc.

Thrawn and Ezra’s party on the other hand are basically in the show Manhunter: Lethal Space Edition. They’re trying to survive on the unknown world with the small amount of supplies they were able to snag on their way out, knowing that the planet also holds the hostile rest of the star destroyer’s crew, and knowing they have no way off and away except by finding and fixing/smashing together chimaera crash salvage. Maybe they get off the planet before Un’hee finds them, and they have their own road trip adventures too, maybe Un’hee and Eli find them there, doesn’t matter.

The two groups eventually meet, and things begin to come to a boil. The grysks have had all this time to make moves on the Ascendancy, and they might even be setting up in the Empire too now, if they’ve decided it’s worth it. Something dramatic probably has to happen to convince Ezra he’s needed there more than back in the Empire (tho the kid getting visions of his past and present is probably also a big factor, as is the “child girls are actively being kidnapped and held in forced labour for a species/legion/whatever hellbent on quiet takeover of everything ever in existence anywhere”) also, he’s been living on the “run” with Thrawn and co. for months now, and likely they’ve talked and come to some amount of understanding, especially re: previous actions done to each other and each other’s friends and family and factions.

The combined group heads back to the Ascendancy (possibly dropping off some Thrawn loyalists at other locales if they aren’t fully committed to going to help the ascendancy, but that all depends on the size of the Thrawn+Ezra group in the first place), and they have to deal with the grysks and likely a large amount of very very very bad problems that have occurred since Eli and Un’hee left. This (in additional to whatever amount of time it took for the two groups to meet in the first place, which itself could be like, a whole year) takes up the 4-5 years between Death Star and Rebels epilogue/Ahsoka show. Explaining why Ezra hadn’t come back yet by the epilogue time, because he’s busy fighting the grysks and helping the skywalkers and etc.

#star wars #star wars rebels #swr #sw rebels #ahsoka show #ezra bridger #thrawn #thrawn trilogy #thrawn ascendancy #thrawn books #oenimo talks #I have been in preemptive mourning since the Ahsoka trailer dropped and now my time to remain delusional and ignorant has run out

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