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lydiimae · 2 months

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Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

18+ MDI

Based on a request you can find here <3

Warnings: angst, mentions of family member death, mentions of alcohol, arranged marriage, awful reader relationship with mother, vaginal sex, nipple play, vaginal fingering, praise, making love

A.N: Hello my loves, and hello to my lovely anon. I'm so sorry for being MIA, I had midterms and good god they almost killed me ‘︿’. Anon- I hope that this is what you wanted, I am not the most experienced in writing angst but I found this quite fun (perhaps my love of making a dramatic story lol). Thank you all for the love, as always. Mwah ≧◡≦

He did not expect you to change so much in your time away. Sure he expected you to mature in the four years you were gone, you were coming back at the new age of twenty-one. He just did not expect all of the light, the light he loved, to be gone. His Y/N had changed. She had gone from warm to cold, from happy to sad, in such a short time.

Your father and his father were close friends. Both of them being Viscounts meant that they spent a lot of time together. You, being the eldest of your family but also too young and rowdy to really click with Anthony, got on just as well with Benedict. There was always an unspoken love between the two of you that neither of you were brave enough to admit.

The only one with who you got on better than Benedict, was your father. It was apparent for anyone to see that the two of you had a unique bond. A bond that you most certainly didn't hold for your mother. She was cold and extremely cruel, your father had only married her for convenience. So, when your father died, Benedict expected you to be devastated. Who wouldn't be? He had been sick for many years before his death, a case of scarlet fever that just never went away. It was expected, but that did not mean it was less painful.

The night he passed, you showed up at his family's doorstep in tears begging for the footman to bring him down. So, after being woken up by said footman, he tugged on a robe and rushed down the stairs. He saw you and immediately knew. He rushed to you and scooped you up in his arms before taking you up into his bedroom and soothing you into sleep. Proper decorum be dammed, he stayed with you the entire night and then had a carriage bring you back home at dawn.

A week later, you, your mother, and your younger sister showed up at the Bridgerton's door dressed in all black. Violet led you all into the drawing room and gathered the rest of the Bridgertons as well, after hearing your mother mention that she would like her dear friends to be present for a big announcement, always the attention hog. Benedict was dragged in by Eloise, expecting another lecture about the upcoming social season, but his face quickly fell when he saw you.

You already looked so defeated, so tired. You looked up and forced a sad smile, moving over on the sofa so he could sit next to you. He walked towards you quickly, and sat down next in the space you made, discretely offering his hand. Your face softened, and he could tell you were holding back tears, but nevertheless, you gripped his hand tight in your own before focusing your attention on your mother.

"We are going to France, where my family lives. I feel the girls should get to know the rest of their heritage now that their father has passed on." She says bluntly, the cold look on her face never changing. His eyes widen and instantly snap over to you, internally pleading with whatever power he can think of that this is not true. That you will not be swept away before he even has the chance to try and win you over.

You are chewing on your bottom lip, the anxious habit you have had ever since you were young. You look over at him slowly, your eyes filled with unshed tears that he knows you will not let fall. That is when he knows that it is true. His Y/N is leaving. For God knows how long. To be stolen by God knows who.

You sigh as you get out of the carriage that has trapped you for the past eight hours, stretching out your limbs before taking in the scenery. That damn two-day carriage ride from the port had been nothing but exhausting. The estate you grew up in is standing tall right in front of you, and yet it is almost unrecognizable now.

It looked the same, sure, but something about it seemed a lot less colorful without your father. The impending doom of your arranged marriage hanging over your head probably didn't help that fact either. Your mother had been clear in what she wanted when you got to France, a rich man. Not for herself, but for you. Someone who could expand upon the rather large dowery your father had left you. Someone who could make her rich, your happiness be damned.

And so that is just what you found. The hunt for a suitable husband had begun a year after you arrived in Paris, your eighteenth birthday coming and going without a peep from anyone but your sister, Lucy, and a long letter from Benedict. Your grandmother was just as cruel as your mother, if not more so. She quickly introduced you to a man named Noele Beaumont, a man in high-up places in French nobility. An extremely wealthy man.

In the three and a half years you had known him, the two of you had done nothing but fight. Well, the fighting consisted entirely of him shouting at you until you were either in tears or hidden away in the closet somewhere, your chest rising and falling much too fast. It seemed that cruelty was, in some sick and twisted way, attracted to you.

Your mother, after much convincing, had allowed you and Noele to take your home in London upon marriage. That, and, she had allowed for the marriage to be held in England. You were home, finally home, and now you were realizing that it does not matter if you are home or not. The world had lost its color.

"Y/N, whatever is the matter?" Lucy piques up from beside you, taking your hand. "I miss him, Luc. That is all. I miss him and I wish that he were the one here instead of mother." You whisper, wiping an escaped tear from your eye with the back of your hand before turning to your sister. "But at least I have you, and at least we are home." She smiles sadly in response, gently leading you inside.

Your mother greeted you both with a flat expression, having insisted on traveling home a week before to make sure nothing had gone awry in the years that you had been gone. Noele and his family will join you in a month, during the week of the marriage. It seems that neither of you wish to spend more time with each other than necessary. "You have a letter already, Y/N. From one of the Bridgerton's. Do make haste of reading it, we have no time for silliness." She mutters, handing it to you before walking off with your sister.

You sigh and walk into the drawing room after handing your cloak to a maid with a smile. You look around the familiar room and breathe deeply, hoping for the comforting smell of the tea your father used to brew, but are quickly disappointed when all you smell is your mother's obnoxious perfume. You sit down on the chair by the bookshelf and open the letter.

You recognize the handwriting immediately, Benedict. He wishes to see you as soon as he can, but more importantly, he has asked you to be a model in the latest portrait he is painting for his classes at the academy. You smile softly to yourself, taking in the woodsy scent that comes off the letter, the world getting a bit brighter if only for a moment. You sigh and walk up to your bedroom, smiling at the comfort that washes over you, before sitting down and drafting a letter of your own, telling him that you will make time for him come noon tomorrow.

You run your fingers over the parchment when you have finished signing your name. So many words left unsaid. You smile sadly and fold up the letter, sealing it with the wax crest of your family before passing it to a maid with instructions to take it to the Bridgerton household before the evening comes.

Oh, how you despise your mother. After about two hours of arguing yesterday, she had finally given up and allowed you to go and see Benedict. You were used to the names she called you, 'whore' and 'harlot' being the two she most often used, but she had far stepped over the line yesterday.

She had run out of insults to call you and moved on to Benedict. Insulting his artwork, his standing in his family, his habits, anything she could grasp at she used.

"You are to be married to a nobleman in a month, Y/N! You will be tainted by that boy, he is nothing but a disgrace! His head has always been in the clouds, you know that!" She shouted from where she stood in your bedroom. You grit your teeth. "Take that back this instant, you moron! That family has done everything for us! He has done everything for me, he cares more about me than you could ever dream of!" You shouted right back.

She had gone on for at least a half-hour more, finally giving up when Lucy walked in and pleaded with the both of you to stop. "You are nothing but a whore looking for attention, Y/N. You will ruin yourself with him. You will, and I will not help you out of the hole you dig yourself into." Your mother huffed, before turning and walking out of your bedroom.

Your sister had stayed with you last night. You had fallen asleep in her embrace, nothing but a mess of sobs. You wished for nothing more than to go to him right now and run away to the countryside, and leave all of it behind. But you had a duty, you had to look out for Lucy's happiness so she would not be doomed to the life that you are now forced to live.

You had woken up in the early morning, your lady's maid helping you into a dark blue dress before leaving you to your own devices. You spent the hours up until eleven reading and avoiding your mother like the plague. You walked downstairs once it was time to leave for the Bridgerton estate.

A short carriage ride later and there you are, in the same position that you were four and a half years ago, knocking on his door with tears in your eyes. You had become emotional about five minutes out, overcome with the joy of finally seeing him. Finally being able to speak to him, rather than imagining what his voice sounded like when you read his letters. You had missed the feeling of home when you were around him, you had missed how the world looked when he was in it. You had missed him.

He had been unable to sleep once he had written your letter, and unable to do anything but read in the drawing room in the hours before your arrival. He was sitting on pins and needles, waiting for the familiar sound of a knock on the front door to come so he could rush to it before any of the servants. He wanted your welcome home to be comforting, as he had known how much you had been through in France.

When he had gotten the letter explaining the marriage you had been dragged into he locked himself in his studio for weeks on end, being unreachable to anyone, even Eloise. He had spent the first two laying on the chaise, looking up at the ceiling with an unstoppable rush of tears slipping down his cheeks which only stopped when he fell into a restless sleep.

The tears turned to anger, which he let out through pages upon pages of poetry. Confessing his love, damming his foolishness or lack of words, berating himself into oblivion for why could he be so stupid as to not tell you to wait for him? To hold onto hope that he would save you?

Then the weeks of anger turned to inspiration, hours spent drowning his sadness with art. Countless paintings of you, of your favorite flowers, of the hill the both of you held so many memories upon, anything that could get him out of the depression he had been sucked into. It was the point that he was at now, a melancholic feeling lingering over his head that he refuses to let himself feel.

The knock comes right when the clock strikes twelve and he practically throws his book to the side, rushing to the door and throwing it open. You are finally home.

The tears start before you can stop them and he quickly tugs you inside, closing the door before wrapping his arms around you. You bury your face into the crook of his neck, and finally, after months of not allowing yourself to cry, you sob. You sob hard, a million pent-up emotions releasing like the snap of a string in your chest.

You look up at him through your teary eyes and smile. "I have missed you dearly, Benedict." You whisper a hidden meaning you hope he can uncover buried beneath your words. He flashes that silly crooked smile you have come to adore before ruffling your hair. "I have missed you too, Y/N. You will never know how much I missed you." He says, wiping your tears before taking a step back.

"You have grown up. You look so... mature." He comments, almost as if he is trying to figure out something about you. Something that even you cannot decipher. You smile in return. "You have as well. I believe I have the right to call you an old man now." You hum, beginning down the hall to where you know the room he has painted in his entire life is.

He chuckles from behind you, before following. "I am but eight and twenty." He whines playfully and you laugh. "That is two years away from thirty, and if Anthony is old then so are you." You opine, looking back over your shoulder at him before stopping in front of his studio's door. He grins and nudges your shoulder before opening the door for you.

You marvel at the surrounding room when you walk in. You knew that he was a good artist, it came naturally to him, but he had improved in your time away. You walk into the center of the room, walking in a slow circle to take in all of his works which line the walls and stack up upon the floor. Most are of women in various states of dress, ever the lady's man Benedict Bridgerton.

You are glad that some things do not change, but it also makes a strange feeling of longing bubble up in your chest. You wish to be naked like the women in the paintings, talking and flirting with him for hours on end. Making love to him when the heat of the room becomes too much. You wish to wake up to him beside you in the morning, for every morning for the rest of time.

You shake the feeling off and look over at him, noticing that he has already taken his place behind the easel. It looks as if he has already started his sketch. "It is gorgeous in here, Ben. You are the most talented artist in all of England." You say, a look of pure adoration in your eyes that he immediately picks up on.

You wish to die with nothing but the image of that sweet pink color that overtakes his cheeks to remember. He quickly turns his attention to his canvas and nods slightly, clearing his throat. "And you are the best flatterer in all of England. Thank you Y/N." He says quietly. When you begin to turn to face him fully he holds up his hand. "I quite liked the position you were in when you were looking over your shoulder. If it is not too uncomfortable, might you hold it? You had the most beautiful look in your eye." He says kindly, looking up to meet your eyes.

It's your turn to blush at both his kindness and his way of complimenting you. He had always said these types of things in passing, not realizing how much they affected you. You nod and take your original place in the room making him smile. "Perfect, as always." He whispers to himself before returning to the sketch.

After about an hour and a half, your legs grow tired. "Benedict, might we take a break? My legs are getting achy." You say, and he meets your eyes. "Of course, I shall have the maids bring us some tea and you can tell me more about your time in France." He says, gesturing with his arm for you to sit on the chaise that sits by the window.

You do so gladly, taking in the image of him wiping his hands of charcoal. You blush at the thought of the feeling of those hands around your waist, or cupping your cheeks. God, this is torture. You wait for him to come back, which only takes a moment.

He sits down next to you and offers his hand. You look down at it and smile softly, taking it in your own just like you used to. What happens next, you could have never predicted in a million years. He lifts your gloved hand to his mouth and kisses the back of it. Your eyes widen and you open your mouth to speak, but you are quickly cut off by him slowly kissing up your arm.

"Benedict stop." You whisper in a tone that is a far cry away from the authority you wished for that statement to have. He doesn't, he presses kisses to your elbow, continuing to work up your arm. "Benedict, I am serious we mustn't." You say, a bit firmer as tears gather in your eyes, but he still does not relent. "Benedict!" You shout, ripping your arm away and standing up.

"Oh please." He scoffs. "Do not tell me you did not wish for me to do just that." He says, standing up with you and stepping close. "Have you gone utterly mad?! I am to be married by the end of the month!" You shout in return. You wish for nothing more than for him to continue but he cannot. You have a man to marry, a sister to set free. Nothing can come between that.

"You do not love him! You have told me those words exactly!" He shouts back and you shake your head, beginning to walk out of the room. You get all of two feet away before he grabs your arm, pulling you to his chest. He leans down, his breath ghosting over your ear. "I have loved you since we were children, Y/N." Your heart shatters when he whispers the word love in your ear.

"You cannot do this now." You say, trying to tug out of his grasp but he keeps his hold tight. "I have to say it now, I have been a fool. I have kept my mouth shut for far too long, but I can save you. I can take you far away from this place, I-" He starts, but you are quick to cut in.

"How could you possibly save me, Benedict?!" You shout, finally getting away. You turn around and look at him dead in the eye, your eyes beginning to water. "By running away?! We cannot! My sister will be left to deal with that woman all by herself and then my fate will be hers! I cannot let that happen!" You shout, tears streaming down your cheeks.

"I left and came back married and suddenly you gain the confidence to say this now?! It is far too late!" You sob. His face softens and he brings you into a tight embrace, one hand at the back of your head while the other runs up and down your back. "You are too late. Why did you wait?" You sob into his chest and he says nothing, allowing you to cry.

He places his chin on the top of your head as he rubs your back, rocking you from side to side. "You must think of yourself, Y/N. Your happiness. Your father left you his money for a reason, you know that." He whispers after a few minutes of listening to your sobs. You look up at him and he cups your cheek with the hand that was on your head. "Your mother, however terrifying she may be, does not hold the power over you she once did. Your father made sure of that." He continues.

"You own the estate, you have the money, and you can make your own decisions. You just need to tell her, you must be brave." He whispers as your crying calms. "But what if she... what if she does something to Lucy-" "She will not. She will not have the power to." He interrupts.

Lucy is capable, you know that much is true. You also know that he is right, you have the money and the house, and therefore you have the power. A final gift from your father that you were too scared to realize. You look up at him and before you can think twice about it, you press your lips to his.

He smiles into the kiss and pulls back after a moment, pressing his forehead to yours. "You are a fool, Benedict Bridgerton." You whisper, taking a deep breath. He chuckles. "Perhaps, but I am also a fool who wishes for nothing more than to marry you." He says and you smile. "I shall do what you suggest, what my father meant for me to do." You whisper and he nods. "And I will be right there with you." He murmurs before kissing you again.

After an hour of warm tea and affectionate words, he takes you back to your estate. You go back and forth with your mother for an hour, trying to be kind, but it is when she starts the insults that you snap. You threaten to sell the house in France and never speak to her ever again, let alone give her any money, and she quickly shuts up.

You write Noele and the engagement is called off within the week. For once you thank the man's hatred of you, for it made him all too eager to get away. The engagement between you and Benedict is announced the next week, and the wedding is planned for two months in advance. The ton gossips about the timeline, of course, but the two of you pay no mind. You have both waited far too long to get married, why wait even longer?

You lie restless in bed the week before your marriage, your thoughts filled with nothing but him. The kiss you shared when he confessed running through your mind, sending tingles between your legs. The hot feeling that overcomes your body makes you want to do the things you saw men and women do in the paintings that lined the walls of your favorite salon in Paris.

Sex. You knew what it was, anyone who spent more than five seconds in Paris knew what it was. You had fantasized about it before, only ever with Benedict. You wanted his hard cock buried deep inside of you for hours on end, you wanted his head between your thighs, your lips around his length. You wanted all of it, yet he had insisted on waiting until your wedding night.

You sigh, tugging on the silk sheets and rubbing your thighs together to try and ease the dull ache that settled in your core, whining in frustration when the feeling did not go away. You hear the tapping on your window, almost as if it was hailing in the middle of May.

You stand and walk to the large window that leads out to a view of the garden. A pebble hits the glass and you jump, placing a hand over your now racing heart, and look down at the garden. You grin when you find your fiance looking up at you with the crooked grin that has such a hold on your heart. You open the window and lean out.

"What on earth are you doing down there?" You laugh, leaning your elbows on the window and placing your chin on your hand. "You are meant to say something about Romeo." He calls back, his grin only widening as you giggle more. "I shall not. You must answer my question." You smile.

"You are no fun." He groans, dropping the pebbles on the ground. "I wished to see you. I have been nothing but restless tonight and I thought I would spend that restlessness with you. Might I come up?" He calls, already beginning to climb the lattice that lines the estate walls. You nod, even though he did not wait. "I am quite restless as well." You sigh, watching him climb. "You do not need to sneak, mother is already back in France and Lucy cares not of what we do." You hum as he climbs through the window.

He wraps his arms around you and picks you up. "It is more romantic to sneak through the window." He murmurs in your ear as you wrap your legs around his waist. "It was very romantic, I promise you." You whisper as he lays you back on the bed, stripping down to his trousers before sliding into bed with you and pulling the covers up over the both of you.

He nuzzles your neck and places his hands on your hips, pulling you close. It's quite an innocent gesture, but it sends that tingle you were experiencing earlier to your core. Arousal begins to dampen your panties and you press yourself against him, silently asking for more.

He smirks against your skin when you rub up against him. He presses an open-mouthed kiss to your neck before leaning back to look at you. "It seems you were restless for the same reason as I was, love." He teases, which makes you blush. He chuckles and cups your cheek, running his thumb along your cheekbone. "Might I request something of you?" He whispers.

"Of course." You return, leaning into his touch and closing your eyes. "I wish to make love to you, now. I cannot wait one more second, and I most certainly cannot wait until our wedding night" He whispers in your ear, kissing the skin below it.

He makes a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, making you moan softly in response. "Please." Is all you can manage as he bites down on the skin of your shoulder, making sure to leave a mark. He grins and pulls back, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. You return it eagerly, wrapping your arms around his neck. This time, a moan slips past his lips and his hands tighten around your hips.

He moves his hands down your legs, slipping them under your nightgown and cupping your breasts. You whine and break the kiss, pressing your forehead to his as you pant. He watches the look in your eye as his thumbs swipe over your hardened nipples, making your mouth fall open. He groans at the guttural moan that escapes you before taking his hands away and throwing back the covers.

"Benedict please." You breathe, grasping at his arms. He grins but shakes his head. "Patience my love. It will feel so much better if I tease you." He opines, unbuttoning his britches. You gasp when they come off, leaving him in nothing. His cock stands proud against his stomach, it is big and thick, much bigger than you imagined. You grow antsy with the fear that it will not fit inside.

He senses your apprehension and bends down, peppering your face with kisses. "Worry not, dearest, you need only to tell me to stop or to wait and I shall." He whispers, patting your hips as a signal to sit up, which you do. "I will get you plenty warmed up for me, I promise." He breathes against your skin, making you shiver.

He lifts your nightgown up and over your head, throwing it to where the rest of his clothes lay against the floor. He groans at the sight of you in nothing but your panties, his cock twitching with delight. He unties the ribbons that hold your underwear up on your hips, throwing them across the room before capturing your peaked nipple in his mouth.

Your head shoots back and you cry out, laying back on the bed. He follows, situating himself on top of you without releasing your nipple. His tongue swirls around the hardened bud as his other hand cups your other breast, his thumb and pointer finger tweaking your nipple.

Arousal drips down your thighs as you cant your hips up, desperate for more. He growls when the soft skin of your stomach meets his already weeping cock. He pulls back from your nipple, moving the hand that is not occupied with your breast down to your hips. He presses down on your hip bone and you whine when you realize you have lost your ability to brush against him.

"You are doing so well, darling. You mustn't move, it is making me want to bury my cock inside you right now and fuck you until you see stars." You moan at the thought, wrapping your arms around his neck to bring him into another kiss. He grins against your mouth, letting you kiss him for a moment before pulling away and moving his hand off of your breast.

He moves that hand down to your hips, pressing down with just as much force as the other did. The one that was on your hips moves to your breast just as he takes your nipple into your mouth, giving your breasts the same treatment as before.

You are a moaning mess beneath him, your thighs and cunt soaked with your arousal as sweat drips down your neck. "Please, Ben... Need more. I... more." You whine, tugging on his hair. He lifts his head and smiles, making your heart flutter. He can go from a growling, groaning man to a loving partner in just seconds. It's intoxicating.

"Tell me where you need it, sweet girl." He whispers, kissing down your stomach and stopping just above your pubic hair, inhaling almost lewdly with a groan. You whine and your cheeks turn rosy with embarrassment.

"Between my legs..." You whisper, pressing your face into the pillow as the embarrassment of wanting him so much washes over you. He pats your thigh gently, making you look down at him. "Louder. Do not be ashamed. I want it just as much as you do." He murmurs, pressing a kiss to your abdomen.

You smile softly, warmth blooming in your chest. You sigh and let out a breathy moan as he sucks on the skin just above where you wish he would. "I want you between my legs, Benedict. Please. I.. have thought of nothing else for nights." You beg, loudly now as his kisses turn sloppy.

He groans at the thought of you laying in bed, unable to sleep because of the thought of him fucking you, of him pleasing you with his fingers or your tongue, with your hand between your legs. Rubbing at your swollen clit until you come calling his name. He wishes for nothing else than to watch.

He runs his fingers through your soaked folds, the both of you moaning in unison. He rubs his nose through your patch of hair before pressing his tongue against your engorged clit, sucking and swirling as he pushes one of his long fingers into your body, making you cry out.

You silently thank God that Lucy insisted on sleeping in the room downstairs, as now you do not have to silence the steady stream of moans that slip from your lips as he sucks and fingers you into a headspace you have never been to.

You clench around his fingers as he slips another one into your tight hold, his tongue still swirling around your clit. Your hand shoots down to grab at his hair when he starts thrusting and curling his fingers into your body, the other grasping the silk sheets that rest across your bed.

You scream his name when his fingers find a spongey spot inside you that sends a bolt of pleasure right to your already abused clit, and you see stars. You gush down your thighs and his chin, and he pulls out his fingers. He peeks up from below, wiping his face with the back of his hand before sucking your juices from his fingers.

The sight sends you back into a state of arousal so strong that all you can think about is his big cock ripping you open as he fills you to the hilt. He grins when he sees the look in your eye, coming back up so he can give you another open-mouthed kiss. You wrap your legs around his waist and he moans deeply, an almost feral noise coming from somewhere deep inside him.

He breaks the kiss and presses his forehead to yours once more, kissing your nose. "Can I?" He gusts, his breath hot against your skin. "Please." You whisper back, taking one of his hands in yours, the other resting upon his shoulder.

That is all the incentive he needs, he slowly pushes into your body, groaning loudly at how tight you are. You cry out, your nails digging into the skin of his shoulder. He bottoms out and moves his forehead to rest on your shoulder, waiting for you to adjust. God he's so close already, the thought of being the first and only one to take you enough to make him come, but he holds back.

After a moment he looks up at you and you nod, needing him to fuck you hard. That is just what he does. He sets a brutal pace, his thighs meeting yours as your ankles rest on his hips. You cry out and squeeze his hand as his tip nudges the same spot his fingers do, making you clench.

"Fuck." He grunts, picking up the pace as he chases his release. He pounds into you now, making you nothing but a moaning piece of putty ready to be molded by his hands. "Benedict- Again.. I'm going to..." You whine and he nods, pressing his lips to yours as his thumb finds your clit.

Your back arches as you reach your peak once more, dragging your nails down his back and leaving angry red marks on his skin. That is what sends him over the edge, spilling his seed deep inside of you before collapsing on top of you.

After a moment he pulls out and rolls onto his back, catching his breath before standing up and walking to the bathroom, leaving you on the bed to do the same. You rest your arms over your eyes as your breathing calms. He comes back with a washcloth and cleans up the mess he made before snuggling up to you in bed.

You flip onto your side and snuggle up to him, his arms encircling your body immediately. He presses a kiss to your forehead and traces the ridges of your spine with his fingers. "I love you." You whisper, already half asleep.

He smiles at the sight of you drowsy and flushed, his hand coming up to stroke your hair. "And I love you, my heart." He whispers back, closing his eyes and quickly following you into slumber.

Oh, what a joy it is to finally feel at home.

905 notes · View notes

duskiers · 3 months

Text

Enchanted Beginnings

Percy / Aphrodite!Reader

Percy falls for the new Aphrodite daughter, leading to a series of amusing mishaps as he's too distracted by her presence. With a little help from Grover, Percy finally connects with her ☆

First request woop woop 🙌 💗

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The day you arrived at Camp Half-Blood, the sky was painted with strokes of pink and orange, heralding your entrance into a world where myths breathed and heroes walked. Percy Jackson, already a seasoned hero in the eyes of many, found himself at the archery range, his focus far from the quiver and bow. The camp was busy with the arrival of new demigods, but one in particular seemed to capture everyone’s attention before the gods themselves claimed her as their own. You, with your grace and an aura that seemed to whisper of Aphrodite's lineage, had barely crossed the camp's threshold before a glowing symbol of the goddess appeared above your head, sealing your divine heritage.

From across the field, Percy caught sight of you, and in that moment, the world seemed to slow. Everything about you fascinated him—the way you moved with effortless grace, your smile that seemed to light up the surroundings, and the kindness in your eyes that spoke of a gentle strength. He was so captivated that he hardly noticed Grover, his best friend, approaching.

"Who is that?" Percy's voice was a mix of wonder and curiosity, his gaze fixed on you as you laughed at something another camper said.

Grover followed his gaze, a knowing smile forming on his lips. "That's the new girl. Daughter of Aphrodite, and it seems like she's already making quite the impression!" he teased, elbowing Percy lightly.

In the days that followed, Percy found himself drawn to you, often going out of his way just to catch a glimpse of you during training or meals. However, his attempts at nonchalance led to a series of comical mishaps—walking into door frames, tripping over nothing at all, and yes, even walking straight into a window, all because he couldn't tear his eyes away from you.

Grover, witnessing Percy's increasing clumsiness and the amused whispers of their fellow campers, decided it was time for intervention. He made up a plan to finally push Percy into taking action, rather than just daydreaming about you from afar.

One sunny afternoon, as you were returning from a strategy session with Annabeth, Grover saw his opportunity. With a quick, "Trust me" whispered to Percy, he gave him a not-so-gentle push, sending him stumbling directly into your path.

The collision was gentle, but unexpected, causing you to catch Percy in your arms in a moment of surprise. "Whoa! Are you okay?" you asked, concern lacing your voice as you helped him.

Percy, cheeks flushed with embarrassment, managed a sheepish smile. "Yeah, sorry, I just... lost my footing.." he stuttered, internally cursing his lack of grace.

"I'm Percy , " he introduced himself, though a part of him worried you might have already heard of his less-than-graceful moments around camp.

You laughed, a sound that to Percy felt like music. "I know who you are. Percy Jackson, the hero of Olympus. I'm [Name]." you said, extending your hand in greeting.

What followed was a conversation that flowed more naturally than Percy could have hoped for. He found himself opening up about his adventures, the burdens he carried, and the simple joys of camp life. In return, you shared your own journey to Camp Half-Blood, the fears, and excitement that came with discovering your heritage, and the hope of finding a place where you truly belonged.

Grover watched from a distance, a satisfied grin on his face as he saw the two of you laughing together, completely at ease. He had no doubt that this was the beginning of something special.

In the weeks that followed, Percy and you grew closer, spending hours talking by the lake, training together in the arena, and sharing quiet moments under the stars. Percy, who had once been so entranced by your beauty, found himself even more captivated by your spirit—your kindness, your bravery, and your unwavering support.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of gold and crimson, Percy found the courage to express his feelings. Sitting together by the lake, he took your hand in his, his heart racing.

"[Name], from the moment I saw you, I was... well, I was in awe. But it's not just about how you look. It's everything about you—your kindness, your strength, your courage. You've become someone very important to me" he admitted, "and I keep finding more reasons to be amazed by you every day." his voice tinged with sincerity and a hint of nervousness.

Your smile in response was all the assurance Percy needed. "Percy , you've been my rock since I arrived here. You've shown me what it means to be a true hero—not just through your deeds, but through your heart.." You respond with a soft smile and a gentle squeeze of his hand. "I’m glad Grover pushed you into me that day," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Percy laughed, a sound filled with happiness and relief. "Me too. Me too."

As the stars began to twinkle in the night sky, you both sat there, talking about everything and nothing. The world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you <3

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decolonize-the-left · 5 months

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Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s national security adviser indicated that Israel could accept a U.S. plan for a revamped Palestinian Authority to govern the Gaza Strip after the war, a sign that the Israeli leader is easing his opposition to the idea.

Israel is aware of the desire of the international community and the countries of the region to integrate the Palestinian Authority the day after Hamas, and we make it clear that the matter will require a fundamental reform of the Palestinian Authority,” Tzachi Hanegbi, who heads Israel’s National Security Council, wrote in an opinion piece published Thursday on the Arabic-language news site Elaph.

"I'll agree to stop commiting genocide but only if you guys agree to my very specific conditions for the next leadership" is practically in the CIA handbook.

'destabilize a region then exploit the power vaccum and desperation it creates' is a play we've seen over and over again.

The question is why is Israel doing it?

Because it is a puppet state. It's serves the purpose of providing the USA someone to hide behind while they destabilize the region.

A puppet state, puppet régime, puppet government or dummy government is a state that is de jure independent but de facto completely dependent upon an outside power and subject to its orders.

Puppet states have nominal sovereignty, except that a foreign power effectively exercises control through economic or military support.

By leaving a local government in existence the outside power evades all responsibility, while at the same time successfully paralyzing the local government they tolerate.

"Why would the usa be using Israel to destabilize the middle east tho?"

An excellent question!

Short answer: using their own armies to carry out the plans is a surefire way to land themselves in a world war and so using Israel is an easy cop out.

The longer answer is very long.

So what "plans" are they trying to carry out, exactly, right?

Saving the Suez from "Islamist threats" "to secure freedom of navigation." You know, just like our Secretary of Defense said.

You know who else said that though? The plans outlined in Project 2025 by the Heritage Foundation. "The one that's gonna put queer people in detention centers?" Yeah that one. In fact our official are using a lot of the Same Exact Language and working found in Project2025.

Isn't that interesting?

Let's look at page 285, together.

Well, we've certainly seen headlines of this right? "Israel has a right to defend itself" and to take what it deems appropriate measures is how the USA has been avoiding calling Netanyahu a war criminal isn't it? A Google search will show Biden also has tried to block/stop Iran's nuclear development.

Very reassuring that they see the need for that for precaution, isn't it?

And sure maybe you could say this is a conspiracy theory, except US representatives are using the same EXACT language and Islamophobia to justify what's happening. Exhibit #1 the link to secretary of state, but don't worry. We're just warming up and he's not the only one.

Let's continue, we're almost to the part where it all comes together.

Translation: the Suez Canal brings Egypt billions of dollars a year and several parties (the countries listed) would prefer that money be funneled to them instead. The problem is that the aforementioned parties have been destabilizing the region for so long that establishing an alternate trade route through those territories would be seen as an act of aggression if not war.

The heritage foundation has always intended to call anyone who resists that plan a terrorist. Its their way of manufacturing consent to kill people.

And we can see Netanyahu and Biden both following that lead. "The terrorists are just such a giant threat, how could I possibly stop supporting Israel's fight against them?"

From Dec 10, 2023

So isn't it just so crazy that the countries and regions outlined there (US, Israel, India, Egypt, and Gulf States) are ALSO the countries who presented the IMEC at the G20 summit in September, just a month before Israel started it's genocide?

Oh, you don't know what the IMEC is or why it matters?

Well remember the Suez and how much income it brings in? Yeah well it's also regulated by the state, which means it can't be bought or bribed the same way that a canal owned privately could.

Which means that Egypt is the sole benefactor and controls who else gets to benefit. This often does not include the USA.

The USA does not like that.

Enter: the IMEC.

The India-Middle East-Europe Economic Corridor (IMEC) is a rail and shipping corridor that aims to boost regional development and economic interconnectivity between India, the USA, the UAE, Saudi Arabia, Jordan, Israel and the European Union. The project consists of two corridors: the eastern corridor will connect India to the Arabian Gulf, and the northern corridor will connect the Gulf to Europe.

[..]Hence, there are technical limitations that the IMEC may face, not least in the Middle East due to its vast desert regions. The construction of railway lines and subsequent transportation of goods would be a difficult task requiring everything from the standardisation of the railway track gauges to the engine configurations. What’s more, one of the main link ports of the IMEC, Haifa, is in Israel, a country which is unstable at the moment due to the Palestinian freedom struggle.

It's how they intend to circumvent the Suez Canal entirely.

Unfortunately for them, Palestine exists. And as such, this creates a huge problem for them in building the IMEC through Palestine to Haifa. Especially since the resistance fighters through the entire middle east violently oppose the west's imperialism.

So something must be done. Again, we refer back to calling Anyone who questions Israel as an antisemitic terrorist as justification for killing Palestinians en masse. And for the ones they can't justify killing? Moving them.

Meaning that yeah. They planned for that, too.

And not even in secret.

Dated October 13, 2023

From November 7, 2023

What this suggests, as more of Project2025 comes true is that not only is the USA aiding and abetting this war to happen.

But that they are intentionally instigating and provoking action in the middle east.

They WANT headlines like this ⬇️ Because it sets up further justification and manufactured consent to continue their genocide in the name of money.

project2025 ALSO outlines every single group the USA sees as terrorists in the USA and also outlines how each country who provides them shelter should be stripped of aid.

They have already found and written excuses for the USA to get away with collective punishment across the whole middle east.

And finally.

The condition that I fully expect to be announced

For it to be defunded. And for more of an idea we can look to this Netanyahu quote from TheGuardian

Netanyahu also made clear he wanted Israel to retain overall security control after any conflict “with the ability to go in whenever we want in order to kill terrorists”. “There will be no Hamas. There will be no civilian authority that educates their children to hate Israel, to kill Israelis, to destroy the state of Israel. There can’t be an authority there that pays the families of murderers. There needs to be something else there,” he said.

Another puppet government that'll agree to do whatever Israel (and the USA) says, perhaps?

#how much have you been paying attention #palestine #gaza #free Gaza #free Palestine #Israel #india #project 2025 #reblog #boost

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witchofhimring · 5 months

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Loyalty Chapter 9

Synopsis: Kings Landing falls and Rhaenyra calls for your head. A life comes into the world, another is taken.

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x Tyrell Reader

Aemond Targaryen x Ellyn Baratheon

Alys Rivers x Aemond Targaryen

Jaecerion Targaryen x Reader

Jason Lannister x Reader (minor)

(more to come!)

Y/n Tyrells Profiles

Warnings: Angst, heartbreak, childbirth, emotional turmoil, death, unrequited love?, humiliation by Ellyn Baratheon, marital abuse, marital consummation, misogamy (internalized as well as external), brief depictions of smut, Plot twist at the end!

Amelia Tarley had her back towards the New Gods. The Sept had secede to be a place of comfort. Once all her family was gone she pulled up her hood and headed into the garden. Today it was empty and for that she was grateful. H/c fell around her face, obscuring the girl. From around her neck she pulled a heavy iron key. Looking around to check, Amelia plunged it into a keyhole in the ground. With a click the secret door was open. Ameila grunted as she forced open the trap door. Carefully she slipped inside, one hand on the door. With some difficulty, she had a lamp in her hand, stabilized herself on the stairs. Down she went, one step at a time. The steps were not damp, but years of wear mean the once prominent form of the steps were worn down. Finally her feet hit the dirt ground and she padded down the hallway.

At the end was a wooden door. It was so dilapidated that there was no need to unlock it. Faintly one could see a white Weirwood tree painted onto the pealing wood. With a light push it opened onto a small room.

Y/n, Ameila Tarley's daughter, eyes the needle as it slid between two pieces of thread. You had been lucky. The first few months had been easy on you. But at the sixth month your belly expanded alarmingly. The maester on hand told you that it was normal. Sometimes a woman will not show until later on in the pregnancy. Exploring had been halted as walking had become somewhat difficult. Thankfully all your dresses had been made to accommodate the belly. It seemed Alys Rivers was aware beforehand of your pregnancy. The thought unsettled you. Even Prince Aemond and Ellyn had not been aware. Servants gossip perhaps?

The Gold thread was delicate between your fingers. All alone in this great big tower you felt at peace. One might think that being away from the glittering court of Casterly Rock to the bleakness of Harrenhal would make you sad. On the contrary you were more at peace than you had been in months. No eyes on you, no judging husband or insolent mistresses. Just you and the baby. There was just two individuals you saw frequently, Marisa and Alys. Marisa was a young willowy woman with heaps of brown hair. She was to be your maid. Alys had taken what you felt to be an unusual amount of interest. Frequently she had asked how you slept, at and whether the babe was well. It was just so strange.

Alys entered the room with a steaming pot of mulled wine. She placed it next you and looked at the result of hard labor. "A family tree." This familiarity might have earned her a rebuke. But Alys held some sort of power that made such comments feel unwarranted. "Yes." You flattened the fabric to show long, thin lines of gold connecting names. You had just gotten to your mothers name, Amelia Tarley, an archer situated underneath. Seeing her name, Alys had a look of frank curiosity. Green eyes drifted up to another name,

"That is a northern house." Alys Rivers commented. "Yes, the Reeds...." Trailing off, it hit you that your First Men heritage had never concerned you before. Your mother had been a Tarley, and her mother before had hailed from house Reed. The northerners had always seemed so alien to you that it never crossed your thought their blood flowed through those same veins. Your right hand traced the black thread. House Reed, like most other Northern houses fought for Rhaenyra. Those who were close in blood were your sworn enemies. How would your grandmother Laura Reed feel about you taking the side of her houses enemies? Although few could chose their marriages your belly curled in on itself.

"Do you know the words of house Reed?" Alys Rivers sat down in front of you. Any other time you might have been offended. But your thoughts lingered on old lessons. The Starks went by "Winter Is Coming". The Boltons went by "Our Blades Are Sharp". But other then that no other came to mind. It was embracing really, you knew the names and mottos of every house in The Reach. But outside of any prominent family in Kings Landing you were completely ignorant. "They swear by ice and fire"." Cryptic words. A shiver passed through you.

An old book you had pillaged from the library lay open. It was late and hardly a soul stirred (although some certainly still did). The candle light flickered illuminating old parchment scribed a century ago. You flipped through the pages until they landed on house Reed, signified by its telltale lizard.

House Reed is situated in the Neck, making it the most southern of all the northern houses. They have ruled from there since the Marsh Kings defeat thousands of years before the conquest (the exact date is unknown). They make their oaths by the words "Ice and Fire".

It was the oddest name. Was the motto in reference to an old grudge? You continued to read.

There are no contemporary accounts as to why House Reed chose there exact words. However members of their houses insist it is to remind Westeros of The Others.

The Others, a northern superstition. Though this was hardly the most wild northern superstition. They believed in all sorts of things. With a thump the book was placed aside. The baby had given a kick and you winced. "Hey." You said quietly. With a puff you blew out the candle and laid back on fluffed up pillows. Hands rested on a belly whose occupant was suddenly very active. You could almost not believe it. Motherhood had always been a woman's duty but every time the babe turned it felt unreal. For everyone else this was the heir to Casterly Rock, but to you this babe was previous, whether male or female. A safe delivery was all you asked for. Even if it was a girl she would still be important. You thought to your fate after the birth. Where would you go next? Casterly Rock was an option. Or would they make you go back to the Red Keep? It was not as if you had a choice in the matter. You were not some great lady who could call on loyal bannermen and family for defense. What if they separated you from the baby?! That outcome was not unlikely. At nineteen you were still young and would likely be remarried. Ellyn may even convince them to do so, out of resentment for her continuing bareness. A hand touched your belly.

You flipped through the page until a terrifying face leapt out at you. Alarmed and curious, you flipped back. In ink were rotting corpses walking eerily along the snow. At least you pictured them walking in an ungainly fashion. Images of sickly arms swaying back and forth like branches on a tree came to mind. Empty eyes with no signs of life. Gaping mouths with the stench of death on them. A thrill of horror passed through and you dared to read.

White Walkers. No man and perhaps even the Gods do not know where these creatures hail from. In the Dark Night they came to claim the lives of every man and woman in Westeros. Gods know they could even have taken the world. The Great Wall was erected and brave men stand watching. But they may come again.

The passage was short. Nevertheless your mind raced at the thought of dead corpses ravaging Westeros. Furiously you put the book away. This was ridiculous. Of course white walkers did not exist. What, did talking trees and fairies exist too? No. You were being silly.

But for the first time your dreams were filled, not with blood, but a cold landscape. And a woman with h/c flittered in and out.

Your ladies would arrive any day now. For that you were grateful. On the day they were to arrive a young man no older than yourself raced into Harrenhal, breathless. Everyone had been breaking their fast, a usually dull affair. The tense silence was broken when the double doors were unceremoniously thrown open and a boy staggered through. "Your Grace." He was winded. One of the women stood up and filled a glass. After several gulps he places it down, a line of red down his chin. "Your mother had me come. Your Grace, Kings Landing has fallen."

No one dared move. Everyone stayed in the hall, awaiting their fate. Was the war won for Rhaenyra? If so what did that mean for you? And what of your ladies, had they been waylaid, or a worse fate? Soon tales came in. Thankfully the King and the children had fled. But it seemed the women were not important enough as Dowager Queen Alicent and Queen Helaena were prisoners. At least the children were safe. Rhaenyra was not a merciful, not after the loss of her sons. Vaeron's screams invaded your ears. A tic developed in your right hand and soon that arms was full of pins and needles. Your left hand came up to your hair. Nervously you played with the ends.

An hour later another came, this man one of Rhaenyra's. He was younger than you, eyes anxiously flitted between everyone. He was dressed in Targaryen black and red, you wondered if that was wise. Prince Aemond stood looming over the boy. The youth quaked beneath Prince Aemond. The boy pulled out a scroll with shaking fingers. "Read it. Aemond ordered." The boy stammered and then red. "Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, First of Her Name and rightful Queen pf Westeros commands Aemond Targaryen to submit himself to the Iron Throne, without the company of Vaehgar. We will have you know that the Dowager Queen and Princess Helaena-" "Queen Helaena." Prince Aemond snarled. A borderline hysteric gasp left the boy. He looked like to faint. You did not blame him. "-are in our custody and will suffer the Queen's wrath if Prince Aemond does not come before Her Grace. Lady Y/n Tyrell will also be brought before the Queen to suffer judgment for the death of her son Prince Vaeron." Everything before you was blurry, the ground beneath solid as water. E/c eyes rolled into the back of your head as a scream filled the room.

You remembered nothing after that.

Rivers of blood danced around you in torrents. It ripped at your very being, threatening to sweep you away. Blood ran down your body, from the chest to the legs. Running down your body in a great morbid waterfall. A shrill cry was lost in the howl of the storm. It pressed in from all sides while pooling at your feet. You were reduced under this storm, weak against its power. Standing there with the certainty of someone doomed you allowed the walls to close in.

A cold towel lay across your forehead. As your senses came back you felt a warm feather bed underneath. The roar of a crackling fire. The howl of a storm outside. Then the sensations of your body awakened. Everything was sore and your head pounded. A slight sting could be felt on your right cheek. The first thing to move were your fingers. A flash of cold shuddered through them. Opening your eyes was a hard task. Then you felt fingers graze your face. Suddenly opening your eyes was not such a hard task. Alys Rivers hovered over you, jet black hair falling like a waterfall around you. Her piercing green eyes regarded you, seeking out something. "My Prince, she wakes." A creak came from the foot of your bed and Prince Aemond Targaryen stood up. "Lady Y/n?" He sounded uncertain, the title not coming out naturally.

"Well, she certainly caused a scene back there." Ellyn, how wonderful. Alys Rivers helped you sit up slightly, propped up by pillows. "Lady Y/n!" Lady Mari darted forward, her normally immaculate hair askew. "Your here....all of you?" Something dark passed over Lady Mari's face but it quickly passed. A painful throb passed through your head. With a hiss you lay back down. "Everyone is here. Lady Clarissa and Dara are in their rooms right now. Prince Jaecerion will be back in a moment." Your heart leapt at the thought of Jaecerion. It may not have been love but there was certainly affection.

The letter. Anxiety set in as the words came back. Rhaenyra Targaryen wanted you dead. "The letter." "What letter?" Lady Dara looked to Prince Aemond. Prince Aemond's eyes closed and his fist tightened. "Lady Y/n recived a letter from my sister. It seems Rhaenyra means to take revenge for the death of her son." "But that is hardly the lady's fault." Oh how comforting the words were. How you wished those words were true. But Lady Joan's words had prevailed. Shame, regret and a whirl of emotions passed through. "Don't you start crying. Now that woman's wrath will fall on us for your folly." Everyone looked to Ellyn. "I beg your pardon?" An astonished Lady Mari regarded Ellyn. "Oh please. Her wrath would have fallen here regardless. Have you forgotten your own husband slew Lucerys?" This only fueled the flames of Ellyn's rage. She stalked towards you. A palpable vengeance emanated from her very soul. In that moment you knew if Ellyn had the chance she would run a knife right through you. Even Prince Aemond stepped back. "Do you think you're safe? That a child protects you?" Her deep crimson dress rippled as step by step she came closer. In that moment she look almost as terrifying as Alys Rivers. Tall, with flowing dark hair and eyes that seemed to light up with a fire of their own. But unlike Alys who's eyes were hard to read Ellyn's were easy. Hatred.

"And what will you do?" Not one to back down from a confrontation, you fully sat up. No one stooped you, too transfixed. "Because one day something bad will happen. And when that happens your will wish you had never crossed-." "Quiet." Now their eyes landed on you. A lady challenging a princess. Every part of your body ached. Anger prevailed as you stood up on shaky legs. The train of your gown trailed behind you, rippling over old stone. Light illuminated the two figures standing. Yet nothing compared to the hate illuminating Y/n and Ellyn's eyes. Their wrath was more hateful than when Balerion's flames smote upon Harrenhal all those centuries ago. It carried malice akin to all the tormented souls that paced these old halls. An enchantment had been cast over Prince Aemond, Alys Rivers and Lady Mari. Mute horror dwelled on the prince's and lady's face, Alys River's was hidden in shadow. "And if you were to do that, what would happen? Do you simply think I will leave such a challenge unanswered?" Ellyn sneered. "What would you do then, Lady Y/n?" You stepped closer. Her sickly breath was upon your face. "It is not what would I do. It is what have I done. Did you think all those slights went unpunished?" Ellyn let lose a derisive laugh. But you waited. When she realized you did not continue she stopped. Because there was a cold look you bore, one that boded ill for her. "Have you wondered why you have never fallen with child?" Lady Mari gasped. Prince Aemond inhaled sharply. But none of those reactions mattered. All that existed was Ellyn and the pain you meant to cause. "You allowed a woman you hated near you. Allowed me to handle your robes, drinks and cakes. I reigned freely over every morsel that entered your mouth. How easy it would have been to simply slip something in." There was nothing for Ellyn to laugh about this time. Nor anyone else but you. Ellyn swayed precariously on her feet. You thought she meant to lunge at you. Back she went. Ellyn collapsed to the cold hard ground.

You never thought yourself a cruel woman. Growing up with the Maiden and Mother in mind such leanings should be crushed. But the past few months had fed such notions. Different being now called out to you. These voices were not so benevolent. They told you to maime, hurt. The despair of Ellyn tasted sweeter than any pastry. More nourishing than any meat. You had a greater need for it than life itself. You sat alone in your room. Ellyn had been hurried away. The rest had left, although Alys Rivers had asked to stay. Prince Aemond, not having it, ordered her to depart. So with reluctance Alys Rivers obeyed, but not before casting you once last glance. There was appraisal in her eyes. Then they left you.

You reclined on a chair by the window. One hand absentmindedly stroking your belly. The other rested on the windowsill. A full moon ruled the sky tonight. The woods bellow looked like something savage and mysterious on the very boarders of civilization. Taking a deep breath you tasted the nighttime air. Even up here you could smell every tree. Pine, birch, aspen, spruce, oak, and another scent that was familiar but whose name escaped you. Little whispers drifted up to your perch high above. You wondered what was in those woods. Perhaps one day you might like to take a look. There was something that drew you to that forest.

Prince Aemon stormed in, you had not expected this. There was such a stark look of rage upon his face that had he looked at you like that a year ago there would have been tears. Now there was only a lurch and dulled feelings. It was like looking at something through a frosted window that was once clear. You could see what was on the other side but it was blurred, the true scope a mere shadow of what it once was. No tears were shed, although your face did heat up, but not out of bashfulness or guilt. You remembered a time when you had begged Prince Aemond in that amoury. How weak you had been then. Your pride ached from that memory, throbbing like an open wound. So all you did was coldly stare at him.

Prince Aemond did not speak for a moment. A few time he opened his mouth, unable to find the right words. The shadow of a smile ghost your lips. "That.....that was-" "Cruel? It is no less than what she has done to me." If he excepted remorse then Prince Aemond had come to the wrong person. You relaxed against your chair, eyes coolly regarding the Prince. Once again Prince Aemond seemed to loose his words. It was an odd sight truly. The last time Prince Aemond had behaved with anything less than certainty had been during childhood. When he had two eyes instead of one, had no dragon and clung to his mothers skirts. In those says you had been his greatest friend, always by his side. Now all these years later the two of you stood in opposition instead of side by side. He only had one eye with a slightly gaunt look to him. His hair hung limply about the Prince's pale face. You on the other hand regarded him with little affection in your eyes. Red robes flowed out around you. If one had walking in at that moment they might have thought you a queen. Straight backed, an imperious disposition and looking at the Prince as one would to those beneath them.

"Who am I, Prince Aemond?" "Y/n." "No. I am Y/n Lannister. Dowager Lady of House Lannister and you are far to familiar in your behavior towards me. You will leave this room so that I can get properly dressed." Prince Aemond looked as if you had slapped him across the face. But he did as you bid and a moment later a maid came in. "I will have one of mine." The maid left and the Prince shot you one last look before leaving. Eventually Lady Mari entered bearing a crimson gown. She dressed you and your hair was plated into a braid. Prince Aemond only entered once you were prepared and Lady Mari was dismissed. Prince Aemond decided to side across from you. This pleased you. He should treat you as you were, a great lady of the realm, not some little girl he could chastise. "I understand your grievances these past few months. The war has been hard on us all. But you must understand my wife has been out of sorts as of late." You did not care. "That does not concern me. I expected to be treated as befits my station. Yet Princess Ellyn spreads rumors and throws mud on my reputation." Prince Aemond's fist clenched ever so slightly. "I am aware that my wife has been tackles as of late-" "Tackles is not quite the word I would use." Prince Aemond's first came down, right onto the arm of his chair. You jumped back when a resounding "crack" echoed across the room. There was a fire in his eyes that suddenly frightened you. He stood up, looming over you. In one stride Prince Aemond's hands seized the arms of your chair. His face was inches from your own.

"Your spite, My Lady, is quite something. I never would have thought it of you." A shaky breath shook your body which had suddenly run cold. Prince Aemond was not done. "I would turn you out after what has transpired. If it was not for my mothers remaining fondness for you I would." You wished you could say this was little more than words. Pain came roaring back with a vengeance. A year ago, would Prince Aemond have spoken this way to you? The thin veneer of detachment you had worn was stripped away. Now you felt lesser than ever before. It was one thing for Ellyn to rage at you, quite another for it to be a former friend. "Then you are as fickle as I thought. Though I suppose that is a common quality of a kinslayer." Prince Aemond shot back as if you in turn had struck him. Ragged breaths escaped him. There was anger in both your eyes. Suddenly Prince Aemond darted towards and seized you by the arms. "Aemond!" You cried out. His grip was bruising as he hauled you out of the chair. The babe in your belly lurched with his force. The wind was immediately knocked out of you. "Let go of me!" You snarled, attempting to wriggle out of his grasp. But the Prince was stronger. "I will not have you calling me kinslayer. Not you." The last words stumbled out of his mouth. They carried a weight that caused you to pause. Your eyes met.

The momentary tableau was broken when you broke away. Gone was the coolness of your eyes, replaced by hot tears. "Leave." It was all you could say. You wanted to be left alone. But Prince Aemond ignored you. "I never asked for this." He said. The momentary anger was gone, replaced by a look of utter defeat. "And I never asked for this either. And yet you discarded me as if I were less than nothing. So do as you have done these past months and leave me." Yet here he still stood. "Did you ever think I wanted to?" Prince Aemond took a step towards you, though this time not in anger. "I doubt it bothered you." Anger clenched your belly when he had the audacity to look hurt. You would rather he be awful to you. It would have made it so much easier on your consciousness. "You know I have duties." He said. And it hurt because it was true, there was little he could have done. It was also not his fault you loved him and he did not. That was the worst part. He had as much freedom as yourself and the guilt suddenly weighed on you. But your hurt was still great and as so often your emotions took precedence. This time around your pain won out. "Please, just go." The conversation was cut short. Perhaps if things had gone different your life would have gone a different way. Not this time around.

Prince Aemond finally left. He was no longer glowering down at you but diminished, exhausted, and looking older than his twenty years. You watched him go and only then did you break down a weep.

At least you had your ladies. Lady Dara especially has a joy, for she always had gossip and enjoyed wine and sweets. Although you would have to abstained from drinking the cakes were free for taking. Lady Clarissa had become very quiet and even though you attempted to comfort her she abstained from divulgence. From what you heard Ellyn was still bedridden. Apparently your words had done Ellyn quite the turn. "Her skin is an unpleasant hue and some of her piss is..." "Is what?" You demanded impatiently. The maid leaned in close. "Is black, My Lady." Had your words truly done so much damage? Although it should be mentioned Ellyn had not look good before her collapse. If this had been another woman you would have felt sorry. The young ladies of Ellyn's retinue were no longer so bold. They took care to avoid you these days. Perhaps they were mindful for the future. A future where your power could preside over their destinies. Now, they might have realized that you might determine their futures. King Aegon was unlikely to have any more children, and if Ellyn died then Prince Aemond would be free to marry. As Y/n Tyrell, a relative of the Tyrell family might not be seen as a suitable bride to the second prince, the Dowager Lady of Casterly Rock might be seen in a different light. The notion did come to mind. Once the idea of marrying Prince Aemond might have excited you, now it was a mere speculation.

There were more pressing matters. Rhaenyra Targaryen had vowed to kill you. Even in this great place you were not safe. Rhaenyra could take Syrax and fly up to Harrenhal, doing what her ancestor Aegon the Conqueror had done over a hundred years ago. But no wings echoed in the sky. Soon, you would know why.

"Go back!" The words were howling in your mind. Between sleeping and waking the voices howling in your room. A burning rubbed against your wrists, the babe turned in your belly. There was only darkness. No images of blood or trees. Only the encompassing darkness. The voices were telling you to turn back. And suddenly Weirwood trees smeared in blood burst up in front of you. And now out of the darkness you were thrust back into that bloody forest. It surrounded you, seeking to drag you into its depths. A great bell went off and it went still. A darkness fell over the forest, a great full moon rising. A large Weirwood tree started to move, twisting inwards onto itself. You staggered back as it morphed into a little person. Except it was not a person. Smaller than an adult, its skin was green and eyes wide. All seeing, the creature gazed upon you. "Time must turn."

"My Lady!" Lady Clarissa had shaken you awake. The sound of shutters being slammed closed shook the room. "What were those shutters doing open!' Lady Mari's irate voice made your head throb. You sat up with the help of Lady Clarissa. She pressed a cup of some barley smelling liquid to your lips. With a sigh you reclined back onto the pillows. Lady Mari stormed out only to come back in a moment later, Alys Rivers on her heel. "This....this fool opened the shutters!" You had never seen Lady Mari so angry. Alys Rivers did not seem perturbed. "Fresh air is good." Alys Rivers justified. "Not for pregnant women!" "My Lady, I recon I know more about pregnancy than you." Alys Rivers nonchalantly retorted. "I am well Lady Mari." Lady Mari looked ready to argue, but seemed to think better of it. So she relented and dismissed herself. Lady Clarissa busied herself with a wooden box of herbs she had brought from Casterly Rock. Alys Rivers seemed intrigued, for she advanced forward and peered in. "You have a good collection. Who taught you?" 'My mother." Replied Lady Clarissa. You looked up at the canopy overhead. What would your mother have taught you had she lived? Rarely in recent years had you thought of Amelia Tarley. She had given you life but had been little more than a shadow. If you died in the childbed, as so many women did, would your child think of you? Even Queens fell in this most womanly of battles. Queen Alyssa bad been cut open, as had Queen Aemma. Even if you survived the child might perished, like with Rhaenyra who accounts said was ill after. Would you be lucky? Childbirth had no remedy, so ironclad security of your safety. The place of birth would likely be here, in these haunted halls. This place claimed the lines of all those who ruled here. At least this was not your castle so perhaps the ghosts would leave you alone.

But ghosts were not the only otherworldly things that stalked the halls. And Alys Rivers had no intention of leaving you alone.

Despite having your ladies back Alys River and Marisa stayed on in service. Marisa remained hard working and Alys Rivers being mysterious as ever. When you woke from those odd dreams Alys Rivers was by the fire. It was waking from one of these dreams that grave new came. At the hour of the wolf you were woken. In your dream little green children darted in and out between trees. Sometimes you were able to make out what they said. Their favourites were "turn back" and "time". When your eyes opened the fading imprint of a tree slowly disappeared as the waking world summoned you. Gravely Lady Mari approached you. Thoughts ran through your mind. Who had died? For someone surely had. "Casterly Rock was invaded. They managed to repel the Ironborn from the castle but they have sacked Lannisport. Two thousand are dead, hundreds of women have been abducted. The late Lord Lannister's uncle was killed as was his (Lord Lannister) mistress Lady Redwyne with her youngest daughter." The words stumbled out and you were left stunned. Thousands dead or abducted. Although there was no sadness for Lady Redwyne you pitied the babe. Your deceased husbands youngest bastard had only been a little girl. What monster could kill a child?

"Is there any word from Kings Landing?" "The Usurper Rhaenyra is on poorer terms with Ser Corlys Velaryon. But they still hold firm." You threw the covers off you and picked up a silk robe. "Thank you. May I have a moment?" Lady Mari took that as dismissal and curtsied. You did not dismiss Alys Rivers. Going to the window you looked down. At the seventh month your belly had expanded still further. The baby was now kicking. The first time had been when Alys Rivers had been helping you out of the tub. When her thin pale hand rested on your belly the baby kicked out. The pair of you stared in wonder. Since then the babe was busy. It brought relief that the baby was at least healthy. Worries about a stillbirth seemed more distant these days.

You thought of all the mothers who had lost their children, either through death or kidnapping. How women bore the loss was beyond you. And frankly, you never wanted to. "You are concerned." Alys Rivers appeared by your side. The two of you stood there looking down at the forest bellow. "I am. I pity the mothers who have lost their children." Alys Rivers tensed and now you wished the topic had never been broached. They said Alys Rivers had nursed children. In order to do she she must have been with child. But never once had a child been seen. You wondered, if Alys Rivers, had lost children, how she bore it. The desire to ask was there. But to ask such a question felt cruel.

"Would you like to read, My Lady." It was less of a question, as often you asked Alys Rivers to grab one book or another. You gave her leave and called for Marisa to bring food. Shortly later you were curled in a chair eating and reading away. This book was one of the older books in the castles library. It had come all the way from Winterfell as a book by a Stark lord. It was on older things that the sept might consider borderline heretical. Fascinated, you flipped through the pages observing every symbol. Someone had left in a bookmark. Curiously, you went to that page. On its surface was the drawing of a circle, a carved face in its center. Engravings of symbols marked the outside of the circle. According to ancient northmen this symbol represented time. Once there had even been a God created by the northmen, a difference from their many nameless Gods. Of course it fell out of fashion. But the symbol had been used by certain houses, to remind those of the shortness of time and anything related to it. The words "Ice and Fire" came to mind. You still had not worked out what it meant. But they stuck with you.

Prince Aemond left with Ser Criston Cole, Ellyn's health was spiraling and your due date drew closer. Another month passed in tense silence. At eight months you were so close to giving birth. Your room was getting ready for the birth. Several midwives and been brought in along with two wet-nurses. A maester arrived to give advice along with a septa. You spent most days of laying in bed in a crowded room. There was not a moment you spent alone. Lady Mari and Lady Dara spent time sewing by the fire. Lady Clarissa and Alys Rivers hovered over herbs, the septa giving them dirty looks. "Herbs accomplish not what the Seven provide." Was her favourite saying. Once a day the maester would come and ask questions, but was not allowed to touch you. The three midwives presided with Lady Mari over the arrangements. They said all you had to do was lay back and rest. But restlessness stirred within you. Being forced to stay in this room nearly drove you mad.

"The mother comforts all good women. She gives them strength through their trials." The septa read out of the Seven Stars. Tired, you laid on the bed. These words were memorized by heart as you learned them at Elinor's knee. Once they had meant something, and you wished they still did. So much of you had been lost this year. The girl from Kings Landing was dead. Left behind was a tired woman who could no longer find comfort in the Seven.

Despite you reclusiveness words from the outside world still made their way in. Prince Aemond had set the Riverlands ablaze with Vaehgar. Lady Baela Targaryen had been taken prisoner by King Aegon who chased her on dragon back, killing her dragon. You never would have thought it of the King. Lazy and given to vice, King Aegon had never been one for formative action. But he had regained some strength and broken both legs in the battle with Lady Baela. Now she languished in prison, dragonless. "Daemon must be frantic." You thought. It gave you some pleasure to think that Daemon was wracked with fear for his child. After what he had put Helaena through, what he had put you through, there was no pity left for him. Not that you bore personal ill will towards Lady Baela, but your hatred for the Rouge Prince was great.

"The whole realm is in flames." Lady Clarissa looked up from her work. She was pale with the hue of someone plagued with insomnia. It alarmed you how haggard she looked these days. Something had happened yet no one would reveal anything. You did notice Alys Rivers stuck by her side. You supposed Alys Rivers had the ability to ingratiate herself towards others. Some people were like that. 🤍

Time slowly passed by, the time of the birth came. But for Ellyn it was the hour of her death.

The babe would be ready soon. The ninth month was upon you and the castle held its breath. Not just for you but Ellyn Baratheon. By now the woman was throwing up black bile. You wondered if it was poison. Who hated Ellyn enough to kill her? It was worrying that there were those who might point the finger at you. Many new the rivalry that had transpired. When she died there would be those who would think it was you. Your fears were told to Lady Mari who told you not to pay them any mind. But you wondered if she was only saying that to keep you calm. You might have gone to Prince Aemond but your pride was great. Exhaustion had also greatly depleted your strength. You could hardly get up much less run about.

That night you slept peacefully in bed. Lady Clarissa slept beside you that night. A midwife rested in a chair by the fire. The last thing you saw before rest was the full moon, and the last thing you heard was the rustling of leaves. The last thing you felt was the stirring of the babe in your womb.

You waded through a sea of blood, dead butterflies floating on the surface. Their wings had been blue, but was died red. On you was a heavy green cape. It weighed you down. You stooped down and collected a butterfly. It lay there still. The blood swirled before you and Helaena rose from its depths. "You will change your coat." Then she was gone, back under the waves. It splashed your green cloak, staining it with unsightly splotches. On you walked through the blood. Weirwood trees stood every few feet. Faces stuck out at you, their faces unreadable. Looking down at your wrists you noticed thin lines of blood on them. The ground underneath you quaked and you stumbled forward. Into a tree you went. When you looked ahead the symbol of time was engraved on the bark. The red blood from your wrists stained it red. Thin trails of blood ebbed into the wood. It dripped down, your gaze following. Between your legs was a pool of blood.

The pain woke you. With a cry you alerted Lady Clarissa and the midwife. Lady Clarissa pulled back the sheet and gasped. Blood was pooling between your legs. Your body was both hot and cold, a deep ache that could have crimpled anyone emanated where the baby was. Alys Rivers suddenly burst in followed by the other two midwives. Lastly Lady Mari and Lady Dara rushed in. You pulled you to your feet and quickly changed your nightgown. With a midwife on each side they walked you up and down. Meanwhile the sheets on your bed was changed. When Lady Mari attempted to close the shutters you cried out "don't!". All day you were forced to labor. The only thing keeping you sane was the frantic rustling of the branches. Voices whispered to you through the pain, pushing you onwards. It carried you onwards to night. The sun set and you wondered if this would be your last sunset. Where you doomed never to see it rise again? They finally allowed you onto the bed. "She is ready. Get the chair." Hoisted off the bed, they had you on a birthing chair, legs spread. Gritting your teeth you bore down. Blood spurted onto the ground. "Almost there." Alys Rivers was beside you. Her hand rested on your arm. "It hurts." You were breathless and exhausted. "I know. But you have done so well. Just a bit longer. Your mother has done this. Laura Reed was brave. And so will you." A scream tore through you and a great force was pushed through you. Leaning back, you groaned as the weight which had been borne for months was lifted. A thin cry tore through the air as the hour of the ghosts came. Alys Rivers helped you sit up and the reality sunk in. You were a mother. Tears welled in your eyes as the newborn, your baby, cried and squirmed in the midwifes arms. She looked up at you, looking nearly as exhausted but happy. "It's a boy. You have a son My Lady."

You cradled your son, all the ladies crowded around the witness the first breaths of the new Lord of Casterly Rock. As this new boys life begun, Ellyn Baratheon's drew to a close.

Notes: I'm back! I had to take a break due to being sick, school and having writers block. I am also making a few edits for continuity sakes, but nothing too extreme that will change the story. But now that this month is finally drawing to a close scheduling is back on track so expect more frequent updates. Part two for this series is now being worked on so that it will be ready right after part one. Merry Christmas /Happy Holidays/ Happy New Year everyone!

If you want to join the taglist please let me known!

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ineffectualdemon · 9 months

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SVSSS Trans Their Genders headcanons

Shen Qingqiu: eventually realises she might not be cis but she is afraid to come out as trans because she doesn't want ANOTHER sexuality crisis (it happens anyway but then she does have a sexuality crisis twice a month anyway)

Shang Qinghua: long ago decided their gender is "eh" or whatever is funniest for the bit. Tends to present masc but is not amab but very comfortable in themself

Luo Binghe: gender depends. Sometimes they are a woman, sometimes they are a man. Their concept of gender is intimately tied to their mixed heritage and is a source of a lot of angst and internal strife. He likes it when her wife dresses them up pretty sometimes though

Mobei Jun: shrimp colours of gender. Demons have more gender then you puny humans can comprehend and he has an enormous hoard of them. He spits on your human genders

Liu Qingge: he doesn't know what a gender is! stop asking!

Liu Mingyan: she's a transwoman and she is just that smoking hot but she's also ace (asexuals write the best porn)

Sha Hualing: she has only 3 genders but they are ultra rare special demon genders so better then Mobei’s stash of thousands (not that she's jealous). It is unclear at this point if the Demons are confusing gender with a type of artifact but they start growling if you ask too many questions

Yue Qingyuan: "tragically cis" is what he tells himself.

Shen Jiu: he's not opening that door and neither are you because he doesn't want to be happy

Mu Qingfang: he invented pidw HRT and did self experiments in the process

#svsss #shen qingqiu #shang qinghua #luo binghe #mobei jun #liu qingge #liu mingyan #sha hualing #yue qingyuan #shen jiu #mu qingfang

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ser-zoras · 2 months

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asoiaf predictions that will probably make people mad

sansa politically marries that guy whatshisface. kills littlefinger in self defense either via moon door or very fancy knife, possibly also poison. declares her husband regent of the vale in littlefinger's absence, and quickly allies herself with daenerys as dany pushes west. they fall in love, the embodiment of ice and fire.

brienne doesn't kill jaime bc honestly where would that leave the rest of us. anyway. they probs talk their way out of fighting lady stoneheart and either jaime dies fighting the others, leaving brienne to hedge knight her way around in his honor, or they disappear into the riverlands, never to be heard from again.

if any of the key five die (again), it's gonna be dany, but not in a mad queen way, but in self-sacrifice against the others after her conquest of westeros, which started with dragonstone. thematically implies that the reason daenys had that vision in the first place was so that the targaryens would continue on and produce dany in order to save the world. somehow the destruction of the iron throne will factor in, having served its distorted purpose in keeping the targaryen line alive long enough to create daenerys. this either kills drogon or sends him off toward the sunset sea.

dragonrider bran. either he or jon will rule westeros, don't know which.

speaking of jon, he's going to Come Back Wrong somehow. I think it'll be a targaryen-related way, but he's gonna eventually come around with his stark heritage. if he doesn't end up king of the seven kingdoms, he'll be king beyond the wall.

i don't know what's going to happen to arya. i think she'll surprise me, but i'm certain she's not gonna be lady of winterfell. i think that contradicts too much of her personal convictions about her purpose in life.

contrary to popular belief, i think there's only a 50/50 chance tyrion's gonna be a dragonrider. he's going to come over with dany but he will either choose to return to essos, searching for tysha or possibly accepting the reality of her death, or he'll stay on in westeros as jon's hand of the king. either way, penny will be a significant deciding factor.

stannis kills davos. not as a murder plot, but it's gonna be like. a whole thing.

missandei is protected and cared for and she writes a history of dany's brief reign as an adult(manifesting) and rickon is undeniably Odd now but he's going to be okay and somehow ends up the most normal brother. absolute tourney knight of a fellow (manifesting).

and last but not least, cersei is not killed by either of her brothers, although i think there's a slim chance she kills jaime, which triggers her death. she will be killed by one of her own plots, probably one related to wildfire, but being cersei, she will internalize it as a death by tyrion's hand.

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ladyylavenderrr · 2 months

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Talked about this in an ao3 comment so I’m repeating myself, but I always interpreted Mila’s rant to Garak in A Stitch In Time about assimilating into Cardassian society as very telling about what the nature of her relationship with Tain might be like.

Tw: sexual assault and a whole lot of internalized racism

After Garak returns from Bamarren, he’s being forced into the Obsidian Order and Mila is the one to walk him to their headquarters. She tells him “Understand, Elim-you are being given the opportunity to move above the service class.” The opportunity here is emphasized again and again in this scene.

When Garak tries to contradict her implication that the service class isn’t valuable or desirable, she becomes furious, speaking with a passion we haven’t seen her express ever before and don’t see expressed again. I just want to highlight the exact passage I find most important.

"Listen to me!" she said with a passion that startled me. "You are my son and you are a Cardassian. Not a Hebitian. Look around you!" she commanded. I did. We were in the great public area which is surrounded by the buildings that house the power of the Union.

"Hebitians did not build this. Cardassians did. Your father and I serve and maintain, but we do not influence or guide the destiny of the Union. You could. That's why you must submit right now! Do you understand me, Elim? Once we walk through that door," she indicated the one that led to the subterranean levels of the Assembly building-to the Obsidian Order-"you must submit to your fate."

Mila is a Hebitian woman and yet she obviously rejects that heritage and culture. She’s directly juxtaposed with her brother, Tolan, who is desperately trying to keep his identity alive. Meanwhile, Mila assimilates as much as she can. She demands Garak do the exact same. She glorifies the acts of Cardassians (in this case I’m using “Cardassian” to mean non-Hebitians). Most importantly, she tells Elim to submit, submit, submit. Whatever is about to happen to him, it’s going to elevate him from service class and Hebitian to upper class and Cardassian, the dominant and powerful racial category in their society. The message is obvious. The best thing a Hebitian can do is assimilate and submit to Cardassians.

I always saw this scene as a sort of extension of her relationship with Tain, or what it could be like. Her dialogue here obviously reads as her projecting onto Garak in some way, that’s very clear. She’s telling him to submit to the Order, yes, and the racial and class divide of their society, but more importantly, to Tain and his whims. After all, he’s the one at the very core of Garak being forced into the Order. And Tain very much represents this racial hegemony of Cardassians. He’s directly contrasted with Mila, Garak’s other parent, he literally lives above her and her Hebitian family, he has a collection of ancient artifacts from other cultures collecting dust in his study like some kind of commodity.

Mila wants Garak to submit to the racial and class hierarchy by assimilating, just like she does. She also wants him to submit to Tain, because he and that hierarchy are the same. So then, can we assume she has also submitted to Tain?

We don’t know much about the relationship between Tain and Mila, and what we do know (her being his employee) doesn’t scream perfectly consensual. This interpretation makes that dubious consent a lot more dubious I know.

To me, this scene makes me view the relationship between the couple as Mila having more directly submitted to Tain by being his lover, because it’s an opportunity (there’s that word again) to have some kind of power, to be near that racial ideal, to be more than a mere Hebitian, and more importantly, because she simply won’t ever fight back against the racial and class hierarchy (Tain) she’s trapped in, unlike her brother. What Tain wants, Tain gets. What Cardassians want from Hebitians, they get, so why fight back? This is the only way to survive for Mila and it might just bring her some kind of power, no matter how small.

Their relationship is a sort of microcosm of how Mila navigates being Hebitian. Cardassians dominate her and she doesn’t fight back. And even if she cares about Tain (the way she talks about him in TDIC makes this likely to me), they both know she can never be his equal and she’ll always be expendable to him.

I hope this analysis and interpretation makes sense

#star trek #ds9 #deep space nine #elim garak #enabran tain #mila garak #asit #a stitch in time #andrew robinson #media analysis #tw sa #tw internalized racism #it’s about submitting to power instead of fighting #it’s about valuing assimilation and submission so much you can’t even save your son #it’s about your son being the product of your desperate attempts to gain approval #he has cardassian blood in him but can never reach the ideal #always just off the mark #too Hebitian

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sisyphusofdishes · 3 months

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angst time again! tw for self mutilation

elizabeth finding a bunch of nail files everywhere, along with pliers stashed underneath meliodas´s bed. at first these seem like maybe they could be used for wood working. but considering meliodas was very flammable and literally made of hellfire, she thought that unlikely. she waited and waited to catch someone slipping under the bed to snatch them, to take them away for god knows what, but it never came.

she waited for days, weeks and then months, and eventually the issue slipped from her mind.

it was 3 to 4 in the morning when she slipped down stairs for the bathroom. the old floorboards creaked as she winced, hoping she didnt wake anyone. as a door creaked open, she cursed herself internally, waiting for which bedroom door would open. however the light creaked out of the bathroom door in a miniscule sliver.thank goodness she hadnt woken anyone up. just the wind. she was about to go and say hi, only a step or too from the door before she felt a cold wet feeling sticking to the soles of her foot. examining her foot, and wiping some of the unidentified substance on her foot, she soon recognized the smell.

it was blood. demon blood. she had smelt it on the people that had drunk some of grey demons in search for power. not that she had been intentionally going around and sniffing people, just that they reeked of the stuff. while the smell used to terrify her because of her acocsiating it with those that drank it, it now terrified her for a whole new reason. why on earth was meliodas bleeding?

making sure to remain as quiet as possible, she moved her eyes to the slit between the door and its hinge and peered through. blood dripped onto the sink and down his arm as meliodas grunted, some sort of apparatus sticking out of his mouth. he grunted again as he wiggled it, before taking a shot of whiskey, counting down from 3, and yanking. elizabeth heard a sickening squelch, before a snap, as the tooth fell and cracked onto the bathroom sink. meliodas spat out some of the blood from the new fountain in his jaw, setting the wrench down, and trying (but not succeeding) to hold back a few tears.

upon closer inspection, the tooth wasnt just any tooth, it was huge. it was jagged pointed, and seemed to 2 to 3 times the size of his regular teeth. since finding out his heritage, elizabeth had wondered why he didn´t quite seem to match the profile. now she knew. meliodas was panting over the sink, trying to get his shit together before he went for the other side. he was doing a pretty good job at it too, before he felt an icy cold hold caress his shoulder. He let out a screech only comparable to that of a pterodactyl before realising it was only el. he opened his mouth to say something, before closing it, and then opening it and then closing again. and as he felt Elizabeth´s icy cold glare boreing straight into his soul, he remembered her promise of absolutely grilling anyone who tried to cause harm to him , while he assumed this meant others, he was starting to have the sneaking suspicion this may apply to him too.

#sds elizabeth #sds meliodas #seven deadly sins #nanatsu no taizai #angst #might write the rest if i get time but for now im 7 mins late for bio

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yeahxsurexokay13 · 3 months

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fraternising with the enemy - jude bellingham

extra - wikipedia: maia grace

summary: maia's wikipedia page

[Maia Grace attends the premiere event for the television series Good Trouble]

Maia Grace Taylor González is an English-Spanish actress best known by her stage name Maia Grace. Born on August 18, 2002, in Barcelona, Catalonia, Spain, she grew up in a multicultural household with her British father, James Taylor, and Spanish mother, María González. Maia has a younger brother named Lucas Taylor González.

Early life: Maia discovered her passion for acting at a young age and began performing in local theatre productions in Barcelona. She attended a local bilingual school, where she excelled both academically and artistically.

Career: Maia's journey into acting began with her breakout role in the Spanish television series Vergüenza Ajena (Embarrassing Moments) at the age of 10, which had a similar comedic style to the Australian series Mortified. Her endearing portrayal of a quirky and relatable teenager quickly captured the hearts of viewers across Spain.

Following the success of Vergüenza Ajena, Maia continued to hone her craft in various Spanish productions, including a feature film adaptation of the series titled Vergüenza Ajena: La Película (Embarrassing Moments: The Movie), which served as her debut in Spanish cinema. The film became a box office hit and solidified Maia's reputation as one of Spain's most promising young talents.

In 2013, Maia auditioned for the role of Callie Adams Foster in the American drama series The Fosters and landed the part. Her compelling portrayal of the troubled teenager navigating the foster care system earned her widespread acclaim and a dedicated following. The show concluded its five-season run in 2020.

In 2015, Maia transitioned to Hollywood with her role as McKenzie ("Mack") in the Disney Channel Original Movie Teen Beach Movie. Her performance garnered her international recognition and opened doors for her in the global entertainment industry.

In 2017, Maia reprised her role as McKenzie in the sequel Teen Beach Movie 2, further solidifying her presence in the entertainment industry.

In 2021, Maia reprised her role as Callie Adams Foster in the spin-off series Good Trouble, which follows Callie and her sister Mariana as they navigate adulthood in Los Angeles. Maia's performance in the series continued to showcase her talent and versatility as an actress.

Despite her burgeoning career in Hollywood, Maia always made it a priority to return to Barcelona from filming whenever she had the chance. She cherished the opportunity to be home with her loved ones and immerse herself in the vibrant culture of her hometown.

Personal life: Despite her rising fame, Maia remains grounded and values her close-knit family above all else. She is fluent in both English and Spanish, thanks to her multicultural upbringing. Maia is deeply proud of her Catalan heritage and often shares glimpses of her life in Barcelona on social media.

Maia's younger brother, Lucas, is her biggest supporter and occasional partner-in-crime. The siblings share a strong bond and often embark on adventures together, whether it's exploring the streets of Barcelona or attending football matches at Camp Nou. They have been avid supporters of FC Barcelona since their early childhood, sharing countless memories of cheering for their favourite team from the stands and celebrating victories together.

Filmography:

Vergüenza Ajena (2011–2012)

Vergüenza Ajena: La Película (2014)

Teen Beach Movie (2015)

Teen Beach Movie 2 (2017)

The Fosters (2013–2020)

Good Trouble (2021–present)

#actress!reader #actress!au #social media au #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham smau #football smau

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durwinglazing902 · 2 months

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xxstraymoonchildxx · 4 months

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This Couple is Unusual

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Chapter 3 This couple, competing

cw: one suggestive implication

The young earl suppressed the urge to roll his eyes, impatiently waiting for the undertaker to stop his hysterical laughter. Undertaker's chest heaved, choking on his gasps of air. He had to support himself on one of his many coffins, wiping off drool from his chin. Amused, you observed the earl whose visible eye twitched slightly and only now do you notice the eyepatch peeking out from under his sidebangs. He hadn’t noticed you yet or was ignoring you on purpose.

The raven-haired butler stood right behind him but his calculating eyes were fixed on Satan. Three more people were with them - a man of Chinese heritage, a lady dressed in red from head to toe, and next to her another butler, timidly looking around and plain as the day compared to the rest.

“Ah, Earl. I was wondering when you’ll step through my doors again. And you couldn’t have arrived at a better time~” Undertaker had finally composed himself, stepping closer to the boy. “Is today the day you have come to see how it feels to sleep in my custom-made coffins?”

A scoff left the kid's lips “I didn’t come here to play arou-” A finger touching his mouth silenced him. “I know exactly why you are here, no need to tell me. Although you are not the only one looking for answers today~” Undertaker grinned, a subtle nod ordering all attention on the two of you.

The air tensed as Ciel Phantomhive narrowed his eye(s), glancing towards his butler, you, and the blond next to you, who had his gloved hand protectively on the small of your back. You raised your hand, waving.

“Who are you?”

“Ah, we’ve met briefly,” Sebastian threw into the room, leaning forward to whisper into his ear. You did the same with Satan, asking him if you should take your leave. He nodded and displayed a practiced smile “We remember, feel free to take no account of us, we were on our way out anyway.” He turned to Undertaker “Again, it was our pleasure. Until next time, should we not solve the case first.”

A bolt of lightning could be imagined between the two of you and them, an unspoken challenge.

You were watched when you walked out, Satan holding the door open for you and you couldn’t help the cheeky upturn of your lips when you passed the boy who looked like Belphegor, the ‘Queen’s watchdog’ Cavendish most likely had warned you about.

The funeral director hummed “The international press is surely committed these days~”

Ciel scoffed. As if some no-name reporters could solve his case.

True to your estimation, Satan was hooked. You spent the next couple of days researching suspects - experts from the medical field, from bourgeoisie to proletariat.

The thesis of the culprit being involved with black magic was also in the room (which was scarily popular during this time) plus there was the possibility of Jack the Ripper being more than one person - a statement by yours truly, so you had the honor of persuading this path on your own so he could make more background checks. With the help of the Sorcerer’s Society and the documentation of the Yard, you were able to narrow down the circle of suspects, even if Satan was way quicker thanks to him being a demon. Were you dragging him down? The avatar of wrath had answered your suspicion with a kiss on your temple and a reassuring smile.

After an exhausting day, you have thrown your jacket on the ground and let yourself fall onto the covers of your bed. Feet aching, your magical energy drained from teleporting and your belly full from the three-course dinner Satan invited you to. Tomorrow, you told yourself, will be a shopping spree day. After all, a promise was a promise, and you were still missing some souvenirs.

Satan joined you shortly after, his fingers grazing your back, playing with the hooks of your bodice holding it together.

“Tired, huh?”

You hummed in agreement, more so when he started to work on the knots of your trapezius. He chuckled at your soft sighs, slowly pulling off the fabric to touch the top of your spine with his lips. “Mhm, not that I don’t like this but I should shower first, don’t you think?” Satan gently turned you around, hovering over you, his blond strands framing his face nicely and green eyes longingly boring into yours.

“Right after, my dear wife.”

A fit of giggles fell from your lips in response to his kisses, suddenly not minding your exhaustion at all.

“We have a promising clue,” Sebastian stated, elegantly serving a new pot of tea to the guests sitting under the chandelier in the drawing room of the Phantomhive manor. “A doctor, knowledgeable in human anatomy, connected to a secret society or black magic: matching with the criteria for the Whitechapel case would be the Viscount Druitt - Lord Aleister Chamber Although he is a medical school graduate, he hasn’t worked in a hospital or been involved in this profession. He has hosted several seasonal parties in the near past, but rumors say various parties were only attendable by those close to him.”

Angeliana Durless alias Madam Red, Ciel’s maternal aunt, leaned back into the comfy parlor chair, finger on her chin “Viscount Druitt…come to think of it, I do recall he has been into black magic lately.”

“He is also suspected of running some sort of secret ceremony during his parties. There is a possibility of him having prostitutes sent in as altar sacrifices for dark rituals and, or selling their organs and body parts to his guests.”

Lau, the second guest argumented, sipping from the delicate cup in his hands.

“Appropriately, he is hosting a party at the 19th hour of this day as the seasonal period will end with it. The ideal time for an investigation, don’t you agree, young master?”

Sebastian smiled eerily, already knowing the answer. Ciel gripped his fork.

“Madam Red, you sure can arrange something, can you?”

She answered with a laugh “What do you take me for, my dear nephew? Aren’t I quite popular? A word here, a word there - I have an invitation in no time~”

/This might be our only chance!/

A few hours later, the carriage arrived at Viscount Druitt’s lavish manor. People in their prettiest gowns and best suits were guided inside.

Ciel Phantomhive crossed his glove-covered arms, waist arching from that torturously tight-laced corset he was forced to wear. For their undercover-mission, he had to pose as his aunt's niece from the countryside and Sebastian being ‘her’ home tutor. Lau, who was uncharacteristically dressed in a smoking suit, was Madam Red's lover for the night. Only Grell was left out from acquiring a new role.

“It seems tonight will be rather enjoyable.” Lau hummed, eyes closed.

/Maybe for you, you don't have to dress up like a girl!/

“Don't make such a face. You look so cute!” his aunt teased, bringing Ciel in a bone-crushing hug “I always wanted to have a daughter to dress up so prettily!”

The Earl blushed, annoyance over his face. /This is humiliating/

He had to wear a blush pink dress with white ruffles and black accents, decorated with bows on the dress itself and over his chest. The equally pink headpiece with a white bow had also pink roses attached and sat nicely on his long twintail wig, hiding his eyepatch perfectly from view. If he had to describe it, it was pompous and utterly girly. Something he'd associate with his fiancé.

“Don't tell me you don’t like it? A lot of cloth had to be used for this to happen, you know. In France, nonetheless. It's all in vogue!”

“Let go of me now, why would I like it?!” Ciel snapped.

“Oh my, shouting so loud isn't becoming of a Lady,” Sebastian immediately reprimanded him with a smile, a gloved hand pushing up his glasses. He too was dressed up handsomely, black suit over a pristine white shirt and an ascot wrapped around the high collar. “Did you not say, you would ‘use any means necessary’?”

Ciels skin took an unhealthy red color but he did remember. Viscount Druitt was a man with catholic taste after all, so him posing as a girl was the perfect coverage, wherever he liked it or not. This was for the case.

“Shall we go then, my Lady?”

As expected, security was tight but they went in without facing any problems. To say the ballroom was packed was an understatement. It would take a while for them to find Lord Chamber.

Ciel started to complain about his get-up, stating he wouldn't want to see his fiancé dressed like this.

“Wow, your headpiece is exquisite!”

“Oh, why thank you!”

The Earl groaned “I'm starting to hear things like she is-”

“Oh, there are so many pretty dresses, but yours looks the best so far! Like a princess from a fairytale!”

“Aren't you energetic? You look very cute yourself. Just make sure to not bump into someone while running around.”

“Will do!”

“...here.”

Sebastian and Ciel turned around at the same time with horror.

He had to jinx it, hadn't he?

Geeze, I wonder who Lizzy was talking to 🤔

I planned to put more plot inside but decided to cut the chapter I had planned (this already has 1,5K words, and I don't want to rush through it

Until next time!

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