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a-small-writer-in-a-big-world · 2 months

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Rescue pt. 1: knight!price x princess!reader

Warnings: talk of pregnancy, medieval standard for women, attempted kidnapping

The king was worse than you imagined, but perhaps you were being dramatic.

He had done nothing but spoke of himself, the money he had and everything else about him. You don't don't think you'd ever met a man who was more full of himself than the king and yet no one seemed to find an issue with that.

You had barely spoken to him, not that he gave you a chance, and he didn't seem to notice. You instead just spent most of you time smiling and nodding, not even wasting your energy to open your mouth.

You had also noticed that he seemed to eye the maids who walked past, paying them more attention than you, his future wife.

Was this supposed to be the rest of your life? Were you supposed to be an accessory that was decorated and put on display, being spoken at but never spoken to while your husband chased after other women?

Did your mother hate you? Why would she do this to you?

"For security." She had told you. "We need a strong ally and you are far too past the age to be unmarried, our people adore you but they talk."

It was naïve but you wished you were born in a time where you could marry for love instead. This security felt like a prison, this marriage would be your chains. You were already alone but you'd be more isolated than ever once he stole you away to his kingdom.

It took everything in you to keep yourself composed.

"I hope you're as excited as I am." The king finally addressed you later than night at dinner and you smiled instinctively.

"Of course, your majesty." Your words were like poison and left a bad taste in your mouth.

"My family and our kingdoms will grow. Soon we won't have to worry about any war."

His family.

You were paralyzed by that notion, disgusted by thinking about the man in front of you touching you or laying with you. You were sure that he'd forget about you if you were pregnant with his child or that would be the only time he'd pay attention to you. You'd be thrown to the side once you gave him an heir, you were sure of it.

Fear gripped your throat, your entire being and it became too much.

You had pushed these feelings away for months, you had ignored them and tried to convince yourself that you could do it for the sake of your kingdom and your people but you couldn't. You were terrified.

After dinner, you were supposed to make your way to your bedchamber, but once you were out of sight, you ran towards the garden.

You somehow slipped past the guards and ran to the river, but you didn't stop. Instead you ran into the forest and let the setting sun guide you far from the castle in hopes that maybe if you couldn't see it your problems would disappear as well.

You stopped when you realized there nowhere you could go. You could run to the nearest village and someone may recognize you or you'd be caught eventually by the knights. Any neighboring kingdom was too far and you'd die in the wilderness before you got close.

You were trapped.

"Are you lost, my lady?" A voice called out to you and you jumped.

A group of men stepped onto the path you were on. They looked as if they had been on the road for a while and judging by their destitute clothes they might not have a place to go to.

However, what sympathy you had for them quickly disappeared when you noticed the strange look in their eyes. You took a couple steps back, but noticed a couple other men appeared behind you.

"No." You said firmly, lying through your teeth. "I was on my way to the village."

One of the men scoffed and raised an eyebrow, not believing you. He seemed to have special interest in your dress and jewelry you were wearing, no doubt knowing exactly who you were.

"We could show you the way." He offered but you shook your head, slowly finding yourself being cornered by the men.

"I can find my own way, thank you." You swallowed hard.

"You'd be much safer with us, your highness."

You stepped away from them as quick as possible and grabbed a stick, brandishing it front of you to keep them away. You face burned when they laughed and you're not sure what it would do to help you but it was the only thing you could think of.

You could bargained them with money but they'd get more out of you if they held you for ransom.

One of the men lunged at you and you swung the stick, smacking him in the middle of the face, causing him to cry out. You hit another before one grabbed your from behind and forced your to drop the stick. You struggled and screamed before you felt something sharp poke underneath your jaw.

"You'll come complacent or dead." The man threatened as he made a show of the dagger.

Your heart nearly jumped out of your chest and you began to panic. You thought this would be it before you heard approaching hooves.

An arrow flew threw the air and hit another man square in the back before another sunk deep into a man's arm. Price rode in on his horse and drew his sword before he jumped off, engaging with the men.

He was much quicker than them and far more skilled. Iron clashed with each other and the men let out cries when Price cut them with his blade, going completely untouched.

You used the commotion to stamp your foot on the man and elbow him in the gut. You managed to push away from him, not before getting cut with his blade on your arm, before you ran away from him.

Price grabbed you and pulled you behind him. He stood in front of you protectively and kept his bloody sword brandished to deter the bandits from moving any closer to you.

"Stay behind me." He told you lowly. "I'll keep you safe."

You blame the reason why your chest was set aflame on the adrenaline coursing through your veins.

Some of the bandits were dead, lying in a pool of their own blood, while others held onto their bleeding wounds. Their leader glared at Price but he didn't falter.

"Bastard knight." The leader spat.

"You wouldn't want to lose more of your men would you, eh?" He stood tall and kept a fierce, but confident look in his eyes. "I'm more than willing to let you if that's what you want however."

The bandit thought for just a moment they all ran away into the forest.

Your arm stung and you placed your hand over the wound while you watched them run. Warm blood stained your hand but you were more focus on Price in front of you, unable to take your eyes off the back of his head.

The warmth in your chest only grew as he turned to you, his eyes sharp but laced with concern.

a/n: i think i know who fell first or at least who i want to fall first

Tags. @deadbranch @makayla-666 @glitterypirateduck @dumbbitchgalore @m0chac0ffee @dragonbe-writing @sleepyoriana @twismare

#knight!price #captain john price x reader #captain john price x you #john price x you #price x reader #price x you #captain john price #rpincess!reader #au #john price x reader #call of duty

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lizzaneia-elizalde · 1 month

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how would the yanderes react when darling asks "would you love me if i was a worm" 😁

Yandere men and their darling asking "would you love me if I was a worm"

By the way, if you don't specify which set of yanderes, i'll do the latest! So, for this, it's set 2!

YAN! DELINQUENT

"A worm? Uh..."

Liam would be flabbergasted.

He would genuinely think about it. He doesn't have pets before. But, you're not a pet. You're his lover, so does that count as beast--

Then he watches your face distort from cheeky to worried, to sad because he's not answering at all.

But please, don't take his silence the wrong way. He's genuinely trying to give a logical answer to your question!

He's thinking of what soil to use, the cage... Wait, does caging you benefit? Or would it be healthier for a worm to be on grass?

His head is going overload trying to think of what to answer that you actually felt bad for it, until he just groans in his palms and say...

"Of course, I will. Worm or not."

YAN! BULLY

"Yeah no."

Straightforward answer, and it just pissed you off that he didn't even think about it.

And oh boy does he like the fact that you're pissed at him for saying that. He'll tease you about it, saying "boohoo, i'll just throw you away and find another person. Because honestly, how can I fuck you when you're a worm?"

Now, that genuinely hurt you, because it implied that he only loves you for your body. And now, you're ignoring him. Sure, you have no other friends to turn to, but what's there to miss from him when he says those stuff.

Uno freezes, because now he sees you're actually hurt. At first, he'll laugh at you for being such a sensitive person, not until you ignoring him became too painful and he had to lower is high ass pride and kneel in front of you, saying that you as a worm wouldn't matter because he still loves you.

YAN! NSFW ASMRTIST

"Is this a request for a new audio?"

Rose was slightly aware of the trend, but he didn't expect you to say it to him. So maybe you were suggesting a new audio plot?

But no, you're actually asking if he would love you if you were a worm.

He chuckles, a bit awkward. He's a bit too old for these trends.

"I don't understand the trend. But um... Yes, I will still love you. I'll take care of you greatly, and make sure you live your best life with me."

YAN! ISEKAI'ED ADVENTURER

"My lady? A worm?"

Aeron stops what he's doing (probably marquessate work) and looks up at you. "Are you going to get cursed or something?"

If he somehow knew the trend beforehand, he'll be surprised that you knew that. Are you also from this world, perhaps?

But then, he'll stop himself and chuckles. "Yes, I will. Also, I know that you will overcome whatever curse will be afflicted on you."

It seems that he misunderstood everything. But you don't mind.

YAN! PLAYER

"Yes. And I'll also be a worm. And we'll have a worm wedding, then a worm family..."

Oh gods, please make him stop.

After you asked that question, he'll giddily answer like he's been thinking about the question a lot. You looked at him funnily as he listed down his wormy fantasy when you both become worms like it's the inevitable. Sometimes, it's scaring you, really.

"--then, i'll bring you the most precious food out there, wait, what kind of worm? Ooh, earthworms? But no..."

Why did you even ask that?

YAN! PARASITE

"Aren't we worms already?"

You shoot Acheron a mean look and he laughs. "I mean, we're technically parasites, hopping from one body to another. So yes, we are worms, and I still and will love you. Yes?"

Well, that's true... But did he really have to be logical? Where's the whimsy and fun?

As you pout there, he chuckles and kisses your forehead.

Well, at least he will love you no matter what.

YAN! EMPEROR

"... No."

You were shocked. Surely, SURELY, the man who committed war crimes just to find you would love you as a worm?

When you asked him why, he would just scoff and say:

"I am a man of high status. I will not be loving a worm."

You frowned, and he could clearly tell that you were about to turn around and walk away when he suddenly pulled you close.

"I will be finding the best wizards and sorcerers out there, even warlocks and witches, just to turn you back to your form."

Okay, maybe Callisto can be sweet too.

YAN! COLLEGE STUDENT

"No questions, yes."

Alpheus gave you a straight answer as he put hot glue on the plank on his hand before gently placing it on the board. "I'll even make you a small house just for you to live on."

He's unbelievably sweet when he said that, like it was the most obvious thing ever. Even when he's making his architectural model, he's still so attentive towards you.

In reality, he doesn't understand this trend at all. Why become a worm in the first place? It's not even logical. But eh. You wanted to ask, so fine.

YAN! DEEP SEA CREATURE

"What is a worm?"

Ah, you forgot that this man is essentially homebound and cannot get out. So, no worms. So you thought of an alternative, a starfish!

He deeply thought of the answer to give you, until... "Hmm, yes, I will. But, that means, I can dissect you into multiples so I can have more of you."

Okay, okay... Jeez.

YAN! HUNTER

"Wait, a worm? Yes, but..."

He's not sure how to say this without saying anything incriminating. "I have to remake the whole pool aquarium into a biodiverse ecosystem!" Well, at least he's still thinking of you.

"NO! WAIT! IF I GIVE YOU THAT BIG OF AN ENCLOSURE, I'LL LOSE YOUR WORM FORM!" You blinked, not expecting such a passionate revelation of an answer. He bit his nail, actually thinking deep. You just rolled your eyes and chuckled.

YAN! KING

"If you become a worm, then I'll be a worm too."

Soma frowns. What kind of question is this?

"I'll make sure that you won't get away from me and crawl back to the Emperor." He seethed, eyes burning with jealousy.

Did you ask that to spite him? Are you going to escape by being a worm? Foolish enough to even say your plan too. He grabs your hand, kissing you roughly.

"I will kill every single worm I see until I reach to you."

YAN! GOD

"Do you wish to be one?"

Liviticus stopped watching the screen and looked to you. He's thinking too deep now. "Are you unhappy in your new form? I can fix that."

But before you could deny, Livticus turned you into a worm, making you shriek in horror as he picked you up. He smiles softly, thinking you like it. "You'll turn back into a human tomorrow, so don't worry."

STILL TOMORROW?

Man... You shouldn't have asked...

YAN! PROSECUTOR

"I will not be able to love you romantically as a worm."

He sadly says as he holds your hand. He seems genuinely distraught of the fact that he can't. You asked him why not. "It's because we are species apart, and it will be unfair to you if I confine you to me always when your place is in the soil, thriving, eating, growing... I simply cannot."

He pecks you on the forehead, gently brushing the back of your hand. "But, I will still long for you, forever."

#lizzaneiaelizalde #yandere writing #tw yandere #yandere imagines #yandere male #yandere boyfriend #male yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere fic

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calehenituse-brainrot · 1 year

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Hiiiii may I request a very obvious and everyone knows it— a simp, pining, very much in love cale? With a dense reader who doesn’t realize they’re making him flustered- dense and oblivious? :>>

Thats all u can choose how u want to write it :))

Oh, ur works are so gooooodd btw :DD

LETS GO BABE !!! AND THANK YOU 🥺🥺💗

im gonna make this short as hell because i need sleep and it's three in the morning. im loopy as hell and couldnt think of how cale as a character would simp and this is the best i could do, im sorry 😭

Alver was a bit elated, to be honest.

After the war, things finally settled down and the lives of the citizens of the Roan Kingdom settled back to normal, or perhaps even better than before.

The talk of heroes was still a warm topic amongst the nobles and commoners, especially about Cale Henituse, the most praised hero of the continent.

Despite the heavy nickname he carries, Cale Henituse continued to be himself — not that Alver was surprised — and still became that bastard guy that Alver trusts.

Cale was chosen to handle the matters a Prime Minister would handle, gaining the position as the proxy of the Prime Minister — a position that was still vacant, of course reserved for Cale himself. But if the man himself knew of it, he'd immediately run away so Alver declared him to just be a proxy to keep the man by his side with the reason that he hasn't found someone fitting for the position yet.

Of course, Cale wasn't given as much as work as an actual Prime Minister are usually given. Alver was kind to his dongsaeng, so he would make sure Cale still has enough rest to slack off for awhile.

During those times, Cale would rarely come by to visit the Royal Palace, which was absolutely understandable. Alver himself would not want to visit his workplace if he's given a day off if he wasn't the Emperor and practically living in his workplace where a political dispute is always happening.

'He's been visiting often, hasn't he?'

Alver glanced up from his paperwork to his dongsaeng who wss reclining on the couch of his study, just sitting there and munching on cookies, this time without Raon.

"Cale..." Alver sets his fountain pen down, looking at Cale with a slight frown on his handsome face. "Is there something wrong?"

"Of course not, Your Highness," Cale answered quickly. "Nothing is wrong."

Alver pursed his lips into a thin line, not believing Cale once a bit because he knows his dongsaeng and while it is probably not something particularly serious from how lax Cale was, Alver was sure it was still something that bothers the redhead.

Alver hummed, taking another sheet of paper from the piles that were on his desk. "Then, is there a reason why you're here?"

"Can I not spend time with my Hyung-nim?" Cale asked with a raised eyebrow as if he was completely serious - Alver knows that he's not because why would Cale be here and spend time with him when he had been whining the other day about how looking at Alver's face was enough to remind him of the stress of work?

Alver shook his head, deciding to just accept Cale Henituse being contradictory as usual. He wonders why he's still so confused when he should know best that Cale Henituse is a walking contradiction and everything he does is confusing.

"Well, if you're staying here, might as well know that Dame [Name] is going to be here again for a private audience."

"From the [Last Name] Household?" Cale questioned and Alver let out a chuckle, "Is there any other one?"

You were a lady from the [Last Name] household, the head family being your single mother, Baroness Charlotte and you were the eldest one out of the three daughters the baroness had. People had originally thought the daughters were going to get married off to older noblemen who were willing to pay off their dowry but due to the Baroness' competence and your clever mind, your sisters have been pried away from the clutches of older noblemen as you were both enough to help your sisters to live.

Your household was compassionate towards orphans and the poor even before the war, providing food and shelter to the ones who needed them. This gives your family very good support from the commoners and loved ones, always being helped by the commoners with the little things. Your family had been very neutral when it comes to siding with the Princes as you all only focused on yourselves and those who are in need.

During the war, Alver had you and not your mother be in charge of sending out help to those who are in need, citizens of the Roan kingdom or not, and to make sure everyone is safe. Due to seeing his thoughtfulness, your family eventually sided with Alver. You had been exceptional in carrying out your duties and earned quite the fame for being the representative of the warm and generous Roan Kingdom, so when you returned, the title Dame was given to you for your services.

Cale would know that, not only because you were an important figure in what would be Roan Kingdom's history regarding politics and international affairs, but you had always coincidentally been wherever he was during the last few years so your title was given pretty quickly and earned much more respect from the nobles.

"Right..." Cale turns away from Alver.

Alver let the conversation to sink into his brain. Why did he have to say that to Cale? The man has been present every time you had to have a private audience with Alver, which had been a frequent event because you were building an establishment to house the homeless.

A knock was heard from the other side of the door of Alver's study.

"Come in."

You stepped into the office, dressed as formally as usual with a white shirt with ruffles and a long, fitted red skirt that flares around your lower calves. There was a folder clutched close to your chest, most likely the cause of your presence here.

"Oh!" You sound elated when you saw Cale in Alver's study but then turned back to look at Alver. "Your Highness, I didn't know you were expecting a guest."

"Dame [Name]," Alver greeted you with a relieved smile. "Please tell me you've brought me good news regarding that housing property case."

Cale stood up from the couch, approaching Alver's desk as well, curious about what good news you were bringing that you were smiling so brightly.

"Of course," you say, closing the door behind you and approaching Alver's desk. "The verdict's out -- the housing property is still within its area and not Viscount Chers'. We sued Viscount Chers for destroying some of the building he claimed to have entered his estate and won, so he has to pay for the cost, damages, and also interest."

Cale has heard of the case before. Viscount Chers had thought the housing property was being built on his land and had ordered his guards to destroy some of the building. With you supervising the project, you immediately sued Viscount Chers for his actions.

"Dame [Name], have I ever told you that I love you?" Alver smiled at you as he received the folder in your hand.

Cale jolted a bit upon hearing Alver's words and glanced at you, seeing your smile as you spoke, "Flattery gets you nowhere, Your Highness."

Alver sighed. "Shame."

Cale wanted to ask since when were you and Alver gotten close enough to be joking around like that. Of course you had been close to the two of them, but it seemed you have gotten more familiar with Alver. Just in time, Alver caught his gaze and raised an eyebrow, confused why Cale looked like he had a lot on his mind.

"How's your family, Dame [Name]?"

"Oh, my, thank you for asking." You cupped your cheek and closed your eyes as you continued, "My mother is well, but my sisters have been going out to parties more than ever. I think they're starting to have people they fancy."

Cale tilted his head, interested. "You seem relaxed about that."

"It's a part of being young," you told him. "Besides, I'm so busy to the point I can't really keep them safe forever. It's like having kids of your own, I guess. What about you, Cale-nim? What would you do with your own kids?"

Cale let his mouth speak before thinking properly, stumbling out his words. "I guess if we have kids -- wait, no, I mean, I already have kids, like Raon, Ohn, and Hong."

Alver watched this with a raised eyebrow, a knowing smirk forming on his lips as he watched his sworn brother trip over his own words and overexplain things. 'Is this why he had been in my office for the last few days?'

"I'm not the type to restrict them too much from experiencing life," Cale told you. "I don't want to be someone they grew to hate because I held them back from living their lives."

You smiled softly at him and Cale grinned, patting himselfon the back for his answer. "That's actually a very good insight for parenting. I might need to remember it once I have kids of my own."

"Aw, look at you both, talking about kids," Alver teased, the shit-eating grin on his face made the alarms in Cale's head come to life.

He caught on.

"Speaking of, Dame [Name], I heard you've been getting many letters regarding marriage," Alver brought up the rumor he had picked up a few weeks ago. He didn't think that such a rumor would end up being something so useful.

"Marriage?" Cale asked, his whole body going tense.

Your cheeks are tinted red as you laughed away Alver's words. "Oh, please, all of them are only sent because they heard you were handing me one of your major projects for developing the kingdom. I'm not dumb enough to see they're simply trying to get to you and Cale-nim."

"You should tell them that you're with my sworn brother so they won't bother you," Alver said, wasting no time to immediately struck that nerve.

You laughed again. "Oh, no, I don't want Cale-nim to get entangled in weird rumors."

"I don't mind."

Cale's cheeks are red when he said that and he wanted to hide from you when you and Alver turned to look at him. He cleared his throat and continued, stuttering a bit when he spoke; "I-I mean, just use my name if they caused you trouble. I don't mind."

"Oh, my, thank you so much, Cale-nim!" You grasped his hand with both hands, the smile on your face so bright that Cale's face immediately darkened with so much blood rushing to his face.

"I might overuse it so much that no one will dare to get close to me," you say, letting go of his hands.

'Oh, please do overuse it,' thought Cale.

"I think that's what my sworn brother would like," Alver added with a grin.

Cale wanted to kick Alver in the shin.

"Do you hate the idea of me with another man that much, Cale-nim?" You asked with a playful grin.

Cale opened his mouth to defend himself but no sound came out when he saw your smile and the red flush of your skin. He closed his mouth and decided to just stand there like an idiot.

"I don't think another man could live up to my standards considering I have been spending so much time with the both of you," you continued shyly. "Perhaps I should linger with the others lest my mother will complain about my being single."

"Or you could just keep spending time with us," Cale prompted, shrugging his shoulders to appear nonchalant. "There's no harm in that. Keep all of the bugging men away."

He doesn't miss the raised blond eyebrow Alver was giving him while you weren't looking.

"Perhaps," you murmured, beginning to walk towards the door. "Talking with the both of you is wonderful but I do have to rush to handle these paperwork."

"What time do you get off work?" Cale questioned quickly.

You stopped, turning to look at the red-head. "Around four. Planning on taking me home and meeting my mother, Cale-nim?"

"She loves the cakes from that dessert shop, right?"

You laughed, shaking your head in disbelief. "Yes, Cale-nim. The strawberry shortcakes are her favorite."

Cale nodded. "Noted."

You bowed to the both of them, excusing yourself out and leaving the two brothers inside the study.

Cale let out a sigh. "Well, I'll be leaving—"

Alver grabbed a discarded paper and crumpled it into a ball, throwing it at Cale who frowns. "What?"

"I cannot believe you came here just so you could ask Dame [Name] on a date."

#cale henituse #cale henituse x reader #lout of count's family #tcf cale #trash of the count's family #lcf cale

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seneon · 3 months

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月光 ݁ ˖ MOONLIGHT ── CHAPTER ONE. THE CRUEL AND LONELY AFTERMATH OF A GREAT WAR BETWEEN NATIONS.

CONTENTS. warnings of dead bodies, slight gore (slicing through the skin), suicide of an enemy party. wc of a thousand.

moonlight series masterlist ₊ 𓂃 chapter two

𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊, night-time, right after the evening where the golden hour turns into dusk. the sun has set completely, allowing the moon to rise and take up on its duty for the rest of the night. it was only a few hours ago that humanity officially ended a war between nations. chaos ceased right then with only one victor left standing.

Y/N, nobody but a mere girl who was turned and twisted to be in the war not by choice, but by the lack of freewill. nobody but a daughter of a swordsmith. nobody but a daughter of a lady who sells potatoes and sometimes mooncakes during mid-autumn festival by the streets to make a living. you are nobody... but a doll of the battlefield, simply selected by some soldiers to be made into a weapon on the rough battlefield.

woe to you who survived through the hellish nightmare of watching your comrades get their chest pierced by spears. woe to you who survived the cuts all across your limbs by the blades of the other innocent souls, also forced to be on the battlefield. woe to you who was the only living being standing amongst puddles and mountains of corpses. and woe to you, for you had to lay a finger on your last standing enemy who eventually unalived himself for the sake of surrendering.

you still remembered the scene of the man standing in front of you, crying his eyes out and begging you to kill him. as the last person standing, shouldn't there already be some sort of peace? you didn't know why but before you could even say anything but to touch his shoulders, he used his blade and run it across the skin of his throat, allowing the substance you despised so much to swiftly flow out.

now venturing on your own after leaving thousands of corpses behind, you walked and walked and walked through forests, meadows, riverbanks, and eventually your journey halted as you stepped forth into a huge mountain.

you unsheathed your sword, pointing it at the direction where you sensed a presence lurking around. "who are you?!" you exclaimed at the person, a man with half a yellow and black hair. he possessed such blank golden honey eyes, almost as if you could drown in the dew, consumed by the sweetest of emptiness.

something about him doesn't feel right though. he is man, but he feels something more than man. something closer to a divine being that harbours magical abilities. why would a man be in the middle of a huge mountain anyways? why is the man dressed in such fine clothing and is alone in a mountain? is he a nobleman to be clothed such a way? what intrigues you the most is the two line that runs from his eyes down to his cheeks.

the grip on your sword tightens, ready to offense and defense for anything that might happen.

"what may a mighty warrior such as you be doing here?" he finally spoke, furrowing his eyebrows. the man spoke with authority, as if you aren't supposed to even step foot in this mountain. his honey eyes scanned all over your body, taking notes that you obtained cuts, stabs, and hurts all around. "you are injured. physically and mentally. perhaps you seek solace in this mountain. that is why you are here."

this man had read you like a book. the grip on your hilt tightened even more, before it loosens and you drop your arm. your eyes slowly dropping to the ground too. "you're not human. what are you?"

"the god of this mountain. rayne ames. i know the very inner being of any living creature that sets foot in my mountain," the mountain god said as he lifted his hands up and a group of fallen petals arise and danced along the wind. rayne spun his hands in a circular motion, the wind following to dance around you. then, the flowers slowly and beautifully flow down all around you. "everything of this mountain belongs to me."

as he uttered those words, a petal fell right at the palm of your hands. you gently held your hand out. even though it has fallen from its origins, it remains as beautiful and fresh as it first blossomed, unscathed even. the petal then jumped right out of your palm and flew away along the wind.

"if everything in this mountain belongs to you, may i... stay here and be one of yours..?"

rayne ames' eyes widened just in the slightest way, before it shuts, locking away the sweet honey dew. "i refuse. descend the mountain and return to your people."

"but i have no people!" you shouted. "i thought you knew that, stupid god..." that came out as a whisper, merely decipherable to one.

as much as rayne feels so much sympathy for the hurt, he cannot allow a human to live in the mountains with him. it is simply impossible. but your words strike him in a way that he couldn't quite understand. the words ‘i have no people’ reminded him so much of himself. just like how he is a mountain god and always alone.

"what is your name?" rayne asks, letting out a sigh.

"y/n."

"y/n, you may stay," he turns around and walks away. "but if you spill poison in the soil and roots of this mountain, i will cast you out." relief embraced you as worry left you when his words filled your ears. "you are now mine, y/n."

you are his, rayne ames the god of this mountain. the moment you spoke to him, the moon has already sent the stars to form a fate between the two of you. moonlight belonged to a mountain god who accepted a human girl and a mighty warrior who seek solace in the haven of a divine being.

NOTES. omg what an exciting fic!!! jokes anyways happy valentine's day! this series will be updated every day 🖤

TAGS ݁ ˖ @kyoghurts @anqelically @caelivir @bbladie @ansbobcar @rjasmin2021 @lunareclipses-moments

#❨ MOONLIGHT ❩ ݁ ˖ ˚ ☽#⋆ ❨ writing ❩ ֢֢֢ ۟#rayne ames #rayne ames x reader #rayne x you #rayne x y/n #rayne x reader #mashle #mashle: magic and muscles #mashle imagines #mashle fluff #mashle angst #mashle x reader #mashle x you

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socialjusticeinamerica · 11 months

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They don’t even know of a time when life was better in America. Actually Gen X was the first generation in America not to do better than their parents. The same being true for the last few years of the Boomer generation. Y also is struggling.

The lady Boomers and X’ers remember what it was like before Reagan took over and busted unions in 1980. Wages dropped, factory owners took their shops to the Deep South where unions had long since been busted or never allowed to set up in the first place. Then the oligarchs outsourced their work and shuttered factories nationwide.

Before Reagan one parent working 40 hrs a week at a union job could afford a mortgage, a new car, medical insurance, and college for their 2.5 kids. That also applied to “minorities” or marginalized people who benefitted from union protections and negotiated standard pay scales.

With Reagan a home went from two years salary to 10+ years salary. Tuition did the same. Cars that cost a month’s salary soared to a year’s salary. Wages have remained stagnant for about 40 years. The wealthy paid high taxes and we had everything. Now the remnants of the middle class pay the bulk of taxes while multimillionaires and billionaires pay little or even nothing. Credit card interest soared to over 20% in some cases while Republikkkans passed laws making it easier for those card companies to sue you whilst making it nearly impossible for you to sue them. Mentally disabled people were literally dumped into the streets causing widespread homeless which is criminalized in affluent areas and red states. Guns and drugs flooded the streets. Bigoted white nationalists became radicalized when Reagan granted Australian Rupert Murdoch citizenship so he could open Fox News and then shut down the Fairness Doctrine so propaganda could be spread under the guise of news.

All the societal problems we suffer today began with the birth of the modern RepubliKKKan party led by their racist Dotard Ronald Reagan in 1980. The GOP became an organized crime syndicate and the government became a tool for the rich. The middle class shrunk from a sizeable percentage of the population to a handful of areas in the north and along the west coast. Many foolish people believe themselves to be in the middle class but in fact they are just perpetual debtors.

If you’re young your first reaction might be to blame the Boomers because that’s incorrectly become a marketed belief. The Boomer generation fought against the GOP and its wars, racism, pollution, big oil, corporate welfare, and black hole military industrial complex. They were the hippies and political activists that marched on Washington and other places. They booted the racist Dixiecrats (southern conservative racist Dems) from the Democratic Party while shifting educated liberals left. Sadly the GOP under Nixon and his colleagues welcomed the racists and conservative nut jobs. Don’t fight a generational war when you should be fighting a class/culture/political war.

The younger generation needs to educate itself about the political parties and how life was better just a few decades back and begin to vote. Vote, then organize in the workplace through unions and in the streets to attract more young voters and to counter protest the Republikkkan right-wing oligarch take-over of America. Complaining and taking refuge in the internet won’t turn things around. Become politically active, become stoke, bring back lower tuition, affordable health care, labor unions, workers rights, voters rights, etc.

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lostloveletters · 9 days

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I Left My Heart in San Francisco (John Brady x OC)

Summary: John's heart feels a thousand miles and just as many memories away in Stalag Luft III.

Note: Title comes from the song, of course (you don’t have to listen to it while reading, but I listened to it while writing this). Do not interact if you're under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: Fluff and angst, mostly introspective. Somewhat non-linear narrative, I guess.

“I won’t get any good if I don’t practice,” John insisted.

Woody smiled, her green eyes sparkling. “Alright, but you watch that pipe of yours. If I smell burning hair—“

He grinned, taking his pipe out of his mouth. “You won’t, sweetheart, I promise.”

Woody braided her hair first thing in the morning, after hastily raking her fingers through it, tugging out any knots that formed overnight. By the heat of the afternoon, enough hair would come loose and stick to her sweaty skin that she’d have to redo her handiwork, already knowing to anticipate the black streaks of grease she’d have to scrub out of it at the end of each day.

Sometimes Holly would be around to give her an intricate and sturdy French braid, able to withstand sweat and hard work. But John had never braided hair before he asked to do hers one evening, and then with increasing frequency as time went on, desperately needing something to lose himself in.

She sat between his legs, still and patient as he ran his fingers through her wavy hair. He parted it in two sections, letting the waterfall of blonde flow down one of her shoulders while he gathered the rest of her hair, silken to the touch compared to the standard blankets and bedsheets they were issued.

A shiver ran down her spine when his fingers gently brushed the nape of her neck.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“You’re fine, honey.” Her voice was soft, almost a low purr that echoed in his ears. He couldn’t remember another time when she called him honey. Usually just Johnny, which sounded wrong coming from other people, even jokingly, since it became hers, but he wasn’t sure how to tell her he liked honey too.

He carefully layered one thick strand of hair over the other until he finished a braid on one side. Looked good, but he knew at a glance he could do better. Woody braided her hair for utility, not just to look pretty, which was a bonus in his opinion, but not her priority.

He puffed on his pipe, shaking his head before setting it aside. “They’re not even. I’m gonna try again.”

“Go ahead, Johnny.”

John stroked her hair, thinking about how he wished they had met under different—better circumstances, where she wasn’t under constant threat of losing him. He used to figure that there was a proper way to get to a woman’s heart, the way god intended, or so he’d been told: meet a nice young lady, ask her father for permission to take her out on a date, get to know each other, bring her home on time. Rinse and repeat while trying not to get too handsy before getting a ring involved.

Then the war happened.

Then Woody happened, who probably wouldn’t have described herself as a nice young lady in the first place. No father to ask permission to take her out on a date. He wasn’t quite sure they actually saved anything for marriage (besides the having kids part, thankfully). He figured god would be flexible, all things considered.

“Everything okay?” she asked.

“There’s a knot,” he mumbled, brows furrowed in concentration as he carefully pulled at strands of hair to free them from each other.

“When I was a kid, if I had a really bad knot I couldn’t get out myself, I’d just cut it with some kitchen scissors. My hair probably looked awful.”

He almost instinctively asked why she didn’t ask her mom to brush it out, but felt the slightest bit of rage burn in his chest when he caught himself and remembered. “I care enough about you to do this right.”

“You’re also pretty good with your hands.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

“I know so,” she said, “and thank you for always being attentive.”

“Are we still talking about your hair?”

“Oh, of course.”

He snickered, working on braiding her hair again. “Of course.”

Neither of them spoke of the future very much, but he knew he wanted one with her. Just wasn’t sure how to go about the discussion without scaring her off, if she’d even be open to settling down. Settling. The word weighed heavy in his mind. While Woody claimed no nostalgia for her native city, a sad fondness laced her voice when she spoke of it, of the excitement and freedom San Francisco had offered her when she needed those things most. Sometimes John wondered if Ithaca would be enough, if he would be enough when all was said and done.

He swallowed roughly. “Take a look and tell me what you think. Be as brutally honest as you need to be. I can take it.”

Woody half-turned to him, an amused smile spreading across her face. Made him feel like he was being let in on a secret the way her smile sometimes did. “You could make my hair look like a bird’s nest and I wouldn’t tell you.” She gave him a quick peck on the cheek before getting up. He followed, almost nervous as she inspected her appearance in the small mirror sitting nearby. She beamed at her reflection, turning excitedly to him. “Johnny, it’s perfect.”

She stood on her toes to kiss him, deep and real, the kind that made any lingering doubts dissolve. Her lips were soft, as if she put on lip balm before he got there. Everything about her was soft, except for her hands, always rough and calloused, but something would be wrong if he felt a smooth palm cradling his jaw, or gliding across the expanse of his shoulders, down his back to cling to him. But he was clothed. Or he thought he was. Lost himself for a moment before he found the sound of her voice again.

“Before I forget—” She slipped her hand into one of her pockets. “Here, I want you to have this. I don’t really have any other photos of me, but I wrote a little note on the back of it for you,” she said. Her cheeks flushed, eyes flicking away from him for a moment. “Just so, um, you know it’s yours.”

He smiled at being handed the photo, a little shadowy and out of focus, but her nevertheless. To Johnny, all my love and more, your sweetheart, Woody. She had drawn a little heart next to his name, Xs and Os after hers. “You look beautiful. Thank you, sweetheart.” He kissed her forehead, the tip of his nose brushing against her skin. “I’ll keep it with me.”

And he did. All the way to Stalag Luft III. Looked at the photo and tried to remember the feeling of her hair between his fingers.

He nearly tore Hambone a new one for taking the photo from his hands without asking, not that he would have let him touch it in the first place even if he had. While far from salacious, having other eyes besides his own on Woody’s photo felt almost sacrilegious. After all, he kept it in the same pocket as the St. Christopher card his mother had given him before he left for basic, its laminated corners curled from his incessant toying with it for reassurance. He hardly looked at it since they bailed. Patron saint of travelers. Some good St. Chris did him.

Buck stepped in and got John his photo back before the situation could escalate further. But the cat was out of the bag. As if it even mattered then, anyway. He did take some pride in everyone’s shock at him and Woody managing to keep their relationship under wraps for nearly four months.

He didn’t expect it to come up again, but he wasn’t exactly expecting Bucky to be alive either. In the midst of Bucky's bittersweet reunion with the other members of the 100th who’d been taken prisoner by the Germans, it was mentioned among the updates everyone was clamoring to give him after he relayed what he could muster of how he survived and ended up there.

Hardly relevant, but Bucky fixated on it after John let one small detail slip out.

“You and Woody? How the hell did I not know this?” Bucky asked.

“No one knew, except for Holly,” he said.

“Holly knew?”

“It wasn’t my idea, but Woody tells her everything. Told her about us the night you two made the bet on that baseball game.”

“That was back in June!" Bucky exclaimed, a strange combination of disbelief and slight betrayal that felt almost out of place compared to everything else going on. "She’s known for four months and didn't tell me?”

“Woody swore her to secrecy or something.”

Bucky shook his head. “You sly dog. Under everyone’s noses…” Clapped him proudly on the shoulder. “Good on you, buddy.”

John smiled. “Thanks, Bucky.”

“Don’t expect any details,” Murph mumbled.

“I’m not telling any of you about my sex life.”

“But there was one?” Bucky asked.

He sighed, resisting the urge to glare at his friend, who up until a few hours prior, he wasn’t even sure was still alive. “We didn’t sneak around for four months just to hold hands.”

Even if that was all they’d done, his relationship with Woody wouldn’t have been any less important to him. Still, it was nice to have actual experiences to pull from, build fantasies that could get him through some of the lonelier nights when he wished he were with her, just about anywhere in the world but Stalag Luft III. The four months that were all theirs became his lifeline.

Four months. Maybe that was long enough for him to ask her to marry him. After writing to his family, that’d be his first order of business. Woody already had his heart, so he’d promise her everything else on top of that he could think of. Let her point anywhere on a map and take her there on a month-long honeymoon. Move all the way out to San Francisco with her. If she said ‘no’ or sent the letter back unopened, at least he could say he tried.

He laid back on his bunk that night, doing his best to ignore the shouting outside. Like the night guards did it on purpose to keep them exhausted. Closed his eyes. Kept her photo pressed against his chest. Tried to remember what her hair felt like between his fingers. Silk compared to the threadbare blankets the Germans gave them for the rapidly approaching winter.

“I won’t get any good if I don’t practice,” he insisted.

She smiled, her green eyes sparkling. “Alright, but you watch that pipe of yours. If I smell burning hair—“

He grinned, taking his pipe out of his mouth. “You won’t, sweetheart, I promise.”

#john brady x oc #john brady #masters of the air x oc #masters of the air #mota x oc #mota #mota fanfic #hbo war #hbo war fanfic #hbo war x oc #ch: woody

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certifiedskywalker · 9 months

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How You See Me - Aemond Targaryen

Anonymous asked: hi i love you're writings so much, you have a way with words that makes you're stories so mesmerizing, i dont know if you are accepting requests right now but if you do will you write an angst one with aemond targaryen or daemon somerhing that has to do with betrayal or choosing the other side of war thank you.

You have always seen Aemond, seen past his title, and, for a moment, you thought he was finally seeing himself too...

He brought the rain in with him. Puddles gathered on the floor of his chambers, channeled in grooves between the packed stone brick. The little rivers rushed toward you from where he stood by the ironwood door, the peaks of his frame cast in the dark of the dim-lit space. If not for the shine of his silver hair and the ghastliness of his pallor in the torchlight, he would have been unrecognizable. Even sure that it was him, you found yourself calling out warily.

“Aemond?”

“Aemond.”

His name fit in your mouth too well. You liked the feel of it, how it felt rolling off your tongue. In a place like King’s Landing where all sensations, sights, and smells, were new, Aemond felt familiar. Perhaps it was simply the shock of seeing another child at court. Let alone seeing a child with an eyepatch.

“Prince.” At the sound of his stern whisper, you peered up at your father, a decorated Lord, in question. “Prince Aemond. Title comes first, just as we practiced.”

You nodded quickly, nervously, as if you got caught sneaking a sweet past curfew. “Yes, Prince Aemond.”

“And,” your father continued, “the Princess Helaena to the King’s left. It seems that Prince Aegon is absent from court. A strange thing for— Oh! Now, remember.”

His rushed, last-minute tutelage was cut short as the Lord and Lady in front of you moved from the sword-studded start of the Iron Throne. In their place was a spot for you and your father to greet the members of the Royal Family present. You swallowed hard at the sight before a guiding hand set on your back and pushed you forward.

The closer you got, the more you saw of King Viserys’ mangled features: his grey face sunken in the cheeks and eye sockets with sores dotting his every stretch of skin. Though, it looked as though his maesters went to some effort to obscure the bloody splotches with salves made to match what you assumed was the pale color of his flesh before sickness claimed it. When the King opened his mouth to greet you and your father, you saw that his teeth were grey too, at least where they weren’t missing.

“By the Gods! How good it is to see you! The last time, I do believe, you were still Daemon’s squire, yes? And— Why, is this your little one?”

“‘Tis indeed, your Majesty.”

King Viserys beamed and you stayed as still as stone, unwilling to show fear despite the state of his smile. “Well,” he continued, “I do hope our children will grow close, strengthening the bond between our great Houses. Hmm?”

“Yes, yes, your Majesty, as do I.” Your father nudged you and your mouth immediately went dry. It took everything you had to wrench your gaze from King Viserys and look to the left. Helaena seemed unresponsive, light eyes dancing about the room, looking everywhere save for you.

“It’s customary to bow.”

Your eyes shot to the right, to Aemond. Prince Aemond. He was scowling at you, his face turned up in seeming disgust; but unlike the visage of his father, Aemond’s face, the jagged scar, still red with relative freshness, did not frighten you in the slightest. Your father, on the other hand, made a mortified rasping sound.

“Already a stickler for pageantry, my Aemond,” Viserys flattered.

“Prince Aemond,” you corrected. “Title comes first.”

The King laughed, though, with his throat full of phlegm, it came out more of a cough. “Why, what a match you two are already.”

At his father’s words, you watched on, pleased, as Prince Aemond’s scowl faded, albeit slowly, away.

“Aemond?”

You called out to him again, stepping towards his shadowy figure. Closer now, you saw his eye gleaming in the limited light, how it was fixed on the floor, the racing drips in the tile. He did not raise his head as you grew close enough to touch. The untraceable distance between you was suddenly insurmountable and it made your stomach twist.

“What is it? What happened?”

Even after eight years of it, you never bored of the dance: sneaking through the Red Keep, tracing alleys down to the training yard. Your spot was always saved by the squires, who, faces ruddy with work, were too worn and watchful to make note of your presence. Hidden enough behind their slim shoulders, you could safely watch the Sers spar. Though, it was not for their cacophony that you made such moves.

It was for the music made by Aemond’s singing blade.

“Can you see back there?”

“Yes,” you hissed, barely looking at the squire in front of you hoping he would hold his craning neck back with the ask, likely assuming you were some other yard hand watching on. You perched yourself on the tips of your toes and caught a glimpse of racing silver. The crowd rose up in turn and you heard the dull, heavy thud of a leather-armored body hitting the packed dirt. Hoots and hollers resounded about the yard, bringing a wide smile to your lips.

“Aemond fell Boric the Beast?” You asked, already knowing the answer.

“Prince Aemond,” the squire corrected, his head turning to look at you, eyes wide in appalled surprise. You noted the scarlet cloths he adorned, the scattered ten pellets that echoed the growing reach of House Cole. “The Prince fell the Beast.”

“Yes, Prince Aemond,” you echoed, suddenly feeling a bit too seen and far too memorable as the squire studied you with disgust. He had marked your face for the ‘offense’ you committed against the royal family, but before he could tag you for it, the ramble of the crowd swallowed him whole. The men bounced and bobbed, eager for the next match, shouldering one another towards the center. You took advantage of the bustle and slipped back into the shadows of the Red Keep.

You set your back against the sun-baked brick and took a trembling breath. Eight years and simply slip of a name could—

“What are you doing here?”

On instinct, your body straightened, ready to greet a man of higher rank, to put on airs of simply being lost somewhere unfit for one of your station. You watched as the shadowy visage approached, all slow and suspecting. Quick to please by the grace of your father’s lessons, you bowed, folding your nerves in your stomach until they were nearly nonexistent.

“My Lord,” you said, dipping your form. “I find myself a touch turned around and-”

“I’m no Lord.”

Prickling fear licked your face until it started to sting. “I-”

“I’m your Prince.”

The figure grew close, allowing the stink of sweat and blood and smoke filled your nose, filling you with a strange sort of relief. “Aemond.”

You immediately melted in him, so fluidly that he had to quickly raise his arms up around you. The leathers of his armor squeaked slightly as Aemond moved, just as the sharpness of nerves eeked out of you with a sigh. At the sound, his hold on you tightened.

“I did not mean to frighten you, only play.”

“No, no,” and as you spoke, you finally met his eyes. With your head craned up against his chest, you were greeted with his jaw and lips first. That was, until, that he tilted his head down, and his bright blue eye drank in the sight of you. For a moment, you forgot you were speaking. “I- Cole’s squire, in the yard…he saw me.”

Aemond raised a brow, lips pursed in question. “And?”

Before you could respond with a biting urgency, he cut you off with a kiss, a ravenous thing that had you backed up against the brick once more with Aemond’s hands guiding your hips. You gasped at the roughness but found yourself leaning into it, letting any worry melt in the warmth of his mouth. Aemond nipped at your lower lip before trailing down the column of your neck.

“Aemond-”

“I will have him dealt with,” he grumbled, pulling away. “Even if he decides to feed the rumor mill, who will the people believe? A nameless face from a lowly vassal or the Prince?”

He held your gaze as the question floated in the limited space between you both. You thought of the squire, House Cole, your own family. A lowly vassal. The Prince. Yes, who would the people believe?

And it was like you were small again, standing in front of the Iron Throne, looking up at ten-year-old Aemond as he, so high upon the unreachable steps, scowling down at you.

Only, in the present, the wound that took Aemond’s eye was no longer raised and red. It was as pink as his post-kiss flush that roared in his cheeks. You reached out and let your fingertips trace the right peak of his face. Immediately, Aemond tilted into your touch. His lips grazed your palm, his eye closed, and you were back in yourself, all too aware of the tightening in your chest.

“My Prince.”

Aemond opened his eye slowly and a smile made his mouth into a curl.

“My love,” he corrected.

“My love,” you echoed in a sigh, welcoming the easy breath.

Your hand reached up to Aemond’s cheek, but he jerked his head from your reach.

He was already crossing the room away from you, his pace leading toward the small table nearest the window. There, perched on the marble top, were chalices and bottles of wine that glimmered crimson in the torchlight. You saw how his pale hands wrapped around the neck of one of the bottles and pour the Arbor Red into the nearest cup. You saw how his pale hands trembled as he took a drink.

“My love, you are soaked to the bone, let me undress you and-”

“No,” he barked, turning his back fully to you. “I need you to-”

He made a choked sound and shook his head, the damp, silver strands cascading down his shoulders. You watched his arm move, bringing the chalice of wine back to his lips. His hesitation made your stomach twist painfully and your breaths grew shallow.

“What do you need from me?”

“Stay.”

“It’s nearly dawn.”

Aemond moved then, his bare chest pressing against yours as he propped himself up on his hands to loom over you. Pinned between him and his bed, everything felt like silken sheets. “Do you answer to the sun?”

You bit back a laugh when Aemond ducked his head into the crook of your neck, his breath tickling the sensitive skin there before he kissed it. With him in such good humor, your reply was a teasing one: “I answer to no one.”

“Mmm, no one?” Aemond asked, pulling back. His head is cocked to the side, a smirk playing on his lips so deliciously. “I recall you answering to me last evening.”

You grinned and pressed a hand against Aemond’s shoulder, trying to push him off. He doesn’t budge, and his smirk widens with all the mischief of a young man enraptured. “But that is you.”

“The Prince.”

You push again, but Aemond stays still and smiling. Seeing no other recourse, you craned your neck up and kissed him. He hummed again, and you pushed in time, letting his bare back fall against the sheets. There was no sound of surprise, no break in your joined mouths. When you did pull yourself from him, Aemond tried to hold you close, your hips against his.

Any move you made was a move he allowed. “Aemond,” you pressed, warningly.

“My love,” he replied, his tone mimicking yours. You shook your head at his teasing, blamed yourself for letting his play chip away at the moment.

“I love you,” you said, redirecting your mind by focusing on his eye, how the blue shown in the early slivers of sun. “Not the Prince. You, Aemond. You know this.”

“Dōna run,” he breathed, High Valyrian dripping easily from his tongue. “How charming it is that you see the two as separate.”

“They are. You are different at court, in the yard, with your family. With me you are honest and unrehearsed,” you brushed your thumb along his lips, tracing his expression, “true.”

“True.” He chewed on the word before frowning. “Then, I fear I do not recognize myself.”

“Well, I see you.”

You leaned down and cupped his face in your hands. His jaw was hard against your palms and itchy with silver stubble. With your thumbs, you pushed Aemond’s lips into a smile before you let the corners of his mouth fall again. After a second time, the smile stuck without your holding it in place and you laughed.

“There you are.”

Aemond flexed his abdomen beneath you and moved to sit up, capturing your lips with his in a searing kiss. His hands rose up from your bare hips to your sides, before racing up to your neck. Against your thighs, you felt his body roll up towards you and the sensation sent a shock through you. A gasp parted your lips and had Aemond grinning like a fool.

“There you are,” he echoed, before kissing you again. “Now, tell me how you see me.”

His hips ground against yours as his mouth continued on with the teasing the skin of your neck. “Aemond.”

“Listen to your Prince- your love.”

“Go.”

“Go?”

You watched as he took another gulp of wine before he threw the empty chalice to the cold floor. It clattered and your stomach lurched in fright. Wine droplets dripped off the lip of the cup and melded into the rain storm Aemond left on the stone tile. Rivers of red raced about the room then, echoing gruesome tourney’s past. Or those to come.

“Leave,” Aemond said at last. “Go back to whatever middling plot your father was gifted by my King Father to buy his silence regarding my Rogue Uncle’s doings and leave.”

“Aemond-”

In a rush of silver, he spun on his heel and faced you. His eye was bright blue, burning from within itself as if dragonfire were his flesh. Through bared teeth and with a pointed finger, he growled, “do not. Do not- Address me as befitting your station or I will have the guards remove you.”

An ache filled you and tightened about your chest. “Ae- My Prince, have I done something to offend you so that you wish for my absence?”

Aemond’s flared nostrils shrank with an unsteady breath, as did the twitching of his eye. He dropped his pointed finger and straightened his stance. How different he seemed from himself moments ago, though, even then, unrecognizable.

“I am to wed a Lady of Storm’s End.”

Tears sprung from your eyes. “Do you not even know her name?”

Aemond answered with silence and the ache grew inside you like a tree. Its thick roots anchored you to the floor and wrapped around your throat. All you had was your mind and it was tangled, trying to find reason when there was none. You could not even find Aemond’s gaze as he kept it fixed to the ground, waiting for it to fall out from under you, you imagined bitterly.

“What,” you choked out, shaking your head, your tears adding to the small flood. “What happened? Please, let me see you.”

After a long beat, Aemond lifted his head then, his eye, no longer ablaze, found yours. “I am ordering you to leave.”

The ache began to change, burning itself into a plague of frustration. You dared to step towards him, and when he did not say a word, you took another. Then, another, until finally you could feel his shallow breaths and smell the storm that clung to him. “Let me see you.”

He took a breath and you saw his shoulders sink slightly as he replied, “war is brewing, and you- I need you to leave.”

“And your marriage secures the Baratheons as your allies,” you realized, taking a step back. “You’re playing Prince again.”

“I am not playing Prince,” he growled, his brows furrowing and anger returning to fill out his deepening voice. “I am the Prince, I was born for this. You simply elected to be blind to it, to my duty. Blind to this,” he gestured between the two of you, “and its predestined end.”

You nodded. “A lowly vassal.”

“What?”

“When the Cole squire saw me, you asked me who the people would believe: a lowly vassal or the Prince. I believed in you.”

“The me you thought you saw,” he spat, stepping towards you, closing the gap. You could feel the heat of him emanating off of him like the stink of a feral boar.

“I saw you,” you reached out with a shaking hand and pressed your palm against his chest before you brought yourself closer with one last step. “And I fear I always will.”

You leaned up on the tips of your toes and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. When you backed away, you saw red in the whites of Aemond’s eye, a glimmering threat of tears. Tears you knew he would not let fall, even after you had gone. Yet, you still believed in him, that maybe he saw himself, who he could be, and would allow himself the grace to move.

“I wish you good fortune in the days that come,” you murmured and made your way towards the door. As you stepped out into the halls of the Red Keep for the last time, you heard the thud of knees against stone and a bitten-back cry.

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captainremmington-13 · 2 months

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A Lady Made of Snow

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own The Hunger Games franchise, the images above, The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, or any of the characters in this fic other than Bellova.

SUMMARY: Bellova begins to notice how dedicated Coriolanus is to helping his tribute, which greatly displeases her. But her anger at the young Snow is temporarily forgotten about when one of her classmates dies in her arms. (i’m using a combination of the movie and book version of the events that occur in this chapter)

Warnings: spoilers for TBOSAS, death, mentions of violent urges, mentions of blood, crying, one swear word

Bellova sighed inwardly, drawing a rose with a fountain pen on her notebook where she was supposed to be writing down Dean Highbottom’s words. The lecture was pointless in her opinion. She knew everything the dean was talking about by heart, and she was alive when the events being discussed were occurring.

She would never admit it to him, but she wished Coriolanus hadn’t skipped class to accompany his tribute. It was unusual for him, the star student, to miss a lecture, even one of Highbottom’s. The competition between them made the dean’s nonsensical ramblings almost bearable.

Then, as if on cue, a breathless and sweaty Coriolanus burst into the lecture hall. All eyes turned to him, shocked at his disheveled appearance.

“Your little excursion was in violation of about five different Academy rules, Mr. Snow. Chief amongst them, endangering a Capitol student,” Dean Highbottom said, not looking up from his papers.

“What?” Coriolanus said, baffled. “Who?”

“You.” Highbottom’s response made Bellova roll her eyes. He was constantly looking for reasons to target the young Snow. “I’m moving for the Gamemakers to disqualify you as mentor immediately.”

“You said we had to get our tributes to perform, not that we had to stay away,” Coriolanus argued, standing at his seat next to Bellova but not sitting down.

“I’ll add insubordination as well,” the dean said smugly.

“Holding her hand, Coryo? Introducing her to people?” Arachne said, clearly disgusted. “You make it look as if we’re one and the same as those animals.”

Bellova couldn’t help but agree silently with her. She hated that Coriolanus had done so much to promote Lucy Gray, even going so far as to touch her. Had he forgotten that he was of the purest Capitol blood, only fit to associate with those who also held that status?

“Coriolanus didn’t show those people anything they didn’t already know.”

Bellova had to grip her textbook to refrain from throwing something at the young Plinth. He was being foolish, saying such things in the presence of the dean and the other mentors.

“I don’t need your help, Sejanus,” Coriolanus snapped.

“That the tributes are human beings. Just like us,” Sejanus continued. “That’s why nobody wants to watch the Games. It’s because people know deep down that winning a war ten years ago doesn’t justify starving people’s children, taking away their freedoms, their rights.”

“Shut up, Sejanus, please,” Bellova murmured through gritted teeth.

Suddenly, Dr. Gaul appeared, startling many of the mentors. Bellova looked at her, setting down her fountain pen.

“Snow fell down in the cage,” she began, smiling crookedly. “It fell down in the cage but it landed…”

“On stage,” Coriolanus finished.

The doctor grinned with delight. “You’re good at games. Maybe one day, you’ll be a Gamemaker like me.”

“If the Games continue at all,” Highbottom added.

“Oh, they’ll continue. With performances like young Mr. Snow’s in that zoo. And I came here to ask your star mentor a question: what are The Hunger Games for?”

This sparked an argument between Dr. Gaul, Highbottom, Coriolanus, and Sejanus. Bellova listened, intrigued. This was the most interesting thing that had happened during one of Highbottom’s lectures since the time Persephone and Arachne almost ripped each other’s heads off over a petty dispute.

Coriolanus then proposed an idea, about making the games more “personal” for Capitol citizens.

“We need them to invest,” he said. “And if we bend a few Capitol laws, we could even have them place bets. Look, I know Lucy Gray may not win in the arena. But if you give her a chance, I would bet the Plinth Prize that she can win people’s attention.”

Dr. Gaul looked at him. “I’d like you to write up a proposal of these thoughts tonight, Mr. Snow.”

“Wait,” Clemensia Dovecote spoke up. “You mean you might actually use his ideas?”

“If it’ll help the ratings, why not?” Dr. Gaul responded.

“Coriolanus and I are class partners, Dr. Gaul,” Clemensia said hastily. “We do all of our assignments together.”

‘Someone’s desperate for approval,’ Bellova thought, giving Clemensia a brief look of annoyance.

Dr. Gaul laughed, sending a visible chill through many of the mentors. “It’ll be an interesting test.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After the lecture ended, the mentors went straight to the cafeteria. They were buzzing with excitement at the idea that Dr. Gaul may listen to their suggestions. Having an idea approved by her could do wonders for their future careers.

Bellova stood in line holding a tray, eyeing the mint chocolate fudge in the dessert section. She loved mint. It reminded her of wintertime, her favorite season.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Coriolanus tapping her on the shoulder.

“What do you want?” she asked.

Coriolanus scoffed. “Your perfect manners never cease to amaze me.”

Bellova sneered. “Funny. Now get to the point.”

“I’m going to sneak some food out of here and give it to Lucy Gray at the Zoo. I was wondering if you’d like to come with me. You haven’t met your tribute yet, after all.”

She raised an eyebrow at him, putting a few slices of bread on her plate. “Breaking the rules again? After Highbottom just threatened to write you up for insubordination?”

“You were the one who told me to do anything it takes to succeed.”

“Fair enough,” she sighed. “Fine, I’ll come with you. I’ll give my tribute some bread while we’re there.”

Coriolanus smirked. “Who’s breaking rules now?”

Bellova gave him a look. “I’ll see you at the Zoo, Coryo.” With that, she grabbed a stack of mint chocolate fudge slices and walked off to join her friends.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that afternoon, Coriolanus, Bellova, and a handful of the other mentors met up at the Capitol Zoo. They immediately made their way to the monkey exhibit, where the tributes were being held. Nodding at the Peacekeepers surrounding the area, they stood inches away from the bars keeping them separated from the district children.

Bellova scanned the exhibit and eventually spotted her tribute in the corner. “Velvereen!” she called. The girl made her way over to the bars, looking at Bellova warily.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“I’m your mentor, Bellova. Here, I brought some bread for you.” She held out the napkin to Velvereen, who took it instantly. “I’m sorry I didn’t come to visit earlier. I have a busy schedule.”

Velvereen said nothing, focusing on wolfing down the bread.

“So,” Bellova continued. “Have you talked to any of the other tributes?”

“Not besides Facet,” she said, pointing to the male District 1 tribute. “Oh, and the singer girl. The one with the strange dress.”

Bellova glanced over at Lucy Gray, who was talking very intimately with Coriolanus. She fought back a look of irritation. Lucy Gray was certainly a spectacle, but she was clearly deranged. She couldn’t understand why Coriolanus was so fascinated with her, other than her extremely strange behavior.

“I see,” Bellova said. “Well, I promise to visit more often if I can. My advice to you is to make allies. The more that you have, the better your chance of survival is.”

Velvereen nods. “I know. That’s what my father told me.”

Bellova gave her a small smile. “It’s good to know that you have a basic understanding of strategy.”

She looked to her left, and saw Arachne taunting her tribute with a glass bottle. “Arachne!“ she hissed. “What the hell are you doing?“

“Shut up, Bellova!” Arachne snapped. “Mind your own business.”

“Fine!” Bellova snapped back. She and Velvereen continued discussing the Games. She was thankful that her tribute was willing to converse, unlike several, who refused to interact with their mentors. But as much as she tried to focus on her tribute, she felt her eyes wander to Coriolanus and Lucy Gray, who seemed to be enjoying each other’s company. It seemed as if her odd charms were beginning to rub off on the young Snow as well. If she hadn’t been surrounded by so many Capitol citizens, she would’ve been tempted to grab Lucy Gray by the hair and slam her head against the metal bars of the enclosure.

Her violent fantasy was abruptly halted by a chorus of screams.

Brandy, Arachne’s tribute, had grabbed her mentor by the neck and snatched the bottle from her. “Help!” Arachne shrieked, trying desperately to escape her grasp. Before anyone could do anything, Brandy smashed the bottle against the metal bars of the cage, and used the serrated edge to stab her in the neck.

“No, no, no!” Coriolanus screamed, rushing towards Arachne, who lay on the ground, convulsing in pain as the crowd screamed frantically around them. He gathered the girl in his arms, putting his hand to her throat, trying to stop the blood flow. “It’s okay. It’s okay. Hold on. Hold on!”

Arachne gasped for air, blood oozing from her neck. Bellova crouched down at her side, turning her head to face her. “Hey, look at me. Hey, hold on! It’s okay, you’re okay. I’ll get help, I promise.”

“Somebody help us, please!” Coriolanus yelled at the crowd.

Chaos erupted, making the whole scene a blur. Brandy was shot by Peacekeepers, falling to the ground with a thud. The other tributes were screaming wildly, ducking away to avoid getting caught in the crossfire.

Coriolanus and Bellova were eventually dragged away from Arachne, who was lifted onto a stretcher. They were escorted by Peacekeepers out of the Zoo and back onto Academy grounds. Once inside a quiet hallway, they collapsed onto the ground side by side, finally able to process what had just happened.

Bellova, who almost never showed any emotion besides smugness, anger, or contempt in Coriolanus’s presence, began to cry. Her head swam with terror and disgust, the sight of Arachne’s slit throat burned into her mind. She was never close to the girl, she found her to be shallow and hated her whining. But they had grown up together. She was part of the Capitol’s finest, meaning they had attended several events together over the years and visited each other’s homes regularly. And now, she was gone.

“I should’ve done more to stop her,” she said, voice trembling uncontrollably. “She was being stupid, and I just let her keep doing it! Her blood is on my fucking hands! It’s all my fault!”

“Don’t blame yourself,” Coriolanus spoke up. “Blame the district girl. She was the one who did it.”

“I know, I know,” Bellova cried, black mascara running down her face, ruining her perfect face of makeup. “But she’s dead too. I can’t even avenge Arachne by killing her. There’s nothing I can do.”

Coriolanus, who had finally stopped shaking, pulled Bellova into his side gently. He put his arm around her, rubbing soothing circles on her shoulder. “You’re safe now. This won’t ever happen again, the Capitol will tighten security tenfold.”

Without thinking, Bellova leaned into Coriolanus’s grasp. He patiently let her cry into his shoulder, while he tried to help steady her breathing. The two young students clung to each other, forgetting all of their past grievances in that moment.

When they finally pulled away, they looked at each other, as if they were stunned at their own actions. Neither of them were affectionate towards each other, or affectionate people in general. Yet here they were, sitting on the cold marble floor of the Academy, comforting each other.

Bellova cleared her throat. “We should probably get out of here. Let the administrators know that we’re going home early.”

Coriolanus nodded, standing up and holding out his hand to help her up. Bellova took it, smiling ever-so slightly.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

“Of course,” Coriolanus replied.

They informed the staff that they’d be departing early. Nobody tried to stop them, understanding that they’d just been through a traumatic event. They walked down the steps of the Academy’s main building, standing near the curb.

Finally, Bellova broke the silence. “Let me take you back to your apartment. My driver will be here any minute.” Before Coriolanus could protest, she said, “You’re in no condition to walk that far. I know you always say you walk to and from school to clear your mind, but just let me do this for you. Please?”

“Fine,” Coriolanus said reluctantly.

As they sat in the back of Bellova’s chauffeur’s car, neither of them said a word to each other. The death of Arachne had clearly rattled them both to the core, but they couldn’t bring themselves to talk about it. It still all felt like a nightmare.

Bellova took a small compact and handkerchief out of her bag, using the cloth to wipe away the black stains her tears had left behind. She pressed some foundation over it, erasing any evidence of a breakdown.

Coriolanus watched her, realizing that he’d likely never see her this vulnerable again. He was still surprised that she didn’t slap him for embracing her. They certainly had a unique relationship. Often times they were at each other’s throats, occasionally they exchanged words of advice and encouragement. But nevertheless, he didn’t want to see her so hurt. She was…a friend? A companion? Something other than a stranger, for sure.

They pulled up outside of Coriolanus’s apartment complex, and Bellova’s driver opened the door for him.

Coriolanus turned to Bellova, who was staring down at her hands. “Thank you for the ride. I appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it,” Bellova said, looking up to give him a small smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Coryo.”

“See you tomorrow, Bellova.”

And with one last nod, Coriolanus shut the door behind him, returning to his run-down apartment where Tigris and Grandma’am were waiting.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

TAGLIST: @daenerysqueenofhearts, @squidscottjeans, @euphemiaamillais, @gracieroxzy

Author’s Note: This chapter was a lot longer than the last one lolll I really liked writing this part because things become a lot more intense. Let me know in the comments what you think and if you’d like to be tagged!

#coriolanus snow #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow x oc #original character #thg prequel #the hunger games #arachne crane #clemensia dovecote #dean highbottom #the capitol #coriolanus snow x reader #lucy gray baird

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mysticwolfshadows · 15 days

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Taken - Zutara

Pt 1 (Here), Pt 2, Pt 3, Pt 4, Pt 5, Pt 6

So, as far as I know, we don't know much (if anything) about Azulon's wife. And I have a soft spot for fics that set up her as the origin for much of Iroh's (eventual) kind nature. Knowing a bit about world building and government structure (thanks DND), Azulon being a very militaristic leader means that the Fire Nation, to survive, would need a second in command (Fire Lady) that kept things stable on the home front. I love fics that include this, too. And we do see hints of that in ATLA. The polluted river? What smart leader puts a factory shooting chemicals into a river right housing a floating town???

Anyway, the fic that I was working on had Azulon's wife (who I called Ilah) as a main character. Basically, Fire Lady Ilah has fallen ill, and out of desperation to keep the balance of their power, Azulon managing the war front while Ilah kept the mother land alive, Azulon searches for something that can be done to save her. The only thing that was suggested that could work was a water bending healer. Of course, the Fire Nation had no access to any water benders. They executed all of the prisoners after Hama's escape, and an assault on the North would take to long to be effective. Thankfully, word had just come that there was a new waterbender spotted in the South.

Some worry its the blood demon (Hama) returned to rally dark spirits. Others hope it is a potential healer for their ailing leader. Either way, an investigation must be made. They must find the waterbender in the South.

When the ships arrive, led by Iroh (maybe Lu Ten, or with Lu Ten aboard), the tribe is helpless. Hama is not there, and hasn't been in decades. No warrior, no matter how many there are, could stand to the well equiped soldiers of three high class cruisers. So when the leader steps out, wanting to see the waterbender, the village can only cower. Hakoda tightens his grip on a spear that will be useless against so many. It's when an officer mentions a rumor that waterbenders instinctively save themselves from drowning, and suggests holding each tribesman under water until the bender is found that Katara, only 8, screams out that its her, so the Fire Nation won't hurt her family.

She's taken, her family screaming, onto the ship. There, she's kept by Iroh and/or Lu Ten, who sits with her and gives her tea. Iroh or Lu Ten explain why they came, how his mother/grandmother is ailing, and needs a healer. He tells her that, while she may be young, she's their only hope of a healer. Katara has no choice but to promise to do her best, knowing her village would take the punishment for her failure.

They dress her in Fire Nation clothes, which she hates, and as they sail back to the Fire Nation, Iroh and/or Lu Ten do their best to trian her. They have her practice on soldiers that are injured either from training or work accidents. She becomes surprisingly competent in a short time, all because she had a master (even though a firebending one) to guide her.

When she finally reaches the Fire Nation, she's taken by how bright and colorful everything is. She's amazed by how load and plentiful the people are. And when she's taken into the Fire Palace, she's shocked by how big everything is.

When she's brought before Azulon, the Fire Lord rages. A peasant child? This is the hope of the Fire Nation?! Iroh asks his father to trust, and they take Katara to the Fire Lady.

And, by some mix of sheer force of will and some miracles, Katara succeeds.

Ilah is able to recover, at least partially, and Katara is placed as her 'ward', always at the Fire Lady's side, lest the sickness return. But Ilah is a gentle soul. She won't have a child acting as a nurse full time. Whenever there is a moment, she makes sure to be where Katara can be around others her age will be. In the Fire Palace, that is anywhere Zuko and Azula will be.

Katara spends a lot of those first weeks stiff and cautious, hesitant to go near the Fire Nation royals. But Azula constantly pokes at her with Mai and Ty Lee. She bites back, snaps when Azula sneers. It is only because Ilah is there that Azula doesn't try to burn her. Later, Zuko starts to come by. He's awkward and kind of rude, but it's not meant in a mean way. Ursa encourages Zuko to be kind, to make friends with her, so Zuko does his best.

After a couple months, Katara isn't skittish or cautious. She surrenders to the fact that she's never going home. Ilah doesn't need her as much, so she is mostly locked in her room, a small room attached to the Fire Lady's personal chambers. With little to do, Katara begins to despair. It's Zuko, still trying because his mother asked and he would never disappoint her, that becomes her ally.

He brings her snacks, books, even trying toys and things, to get her to brighten. Eventually, she opens up, relying on Zuko as her only friend. It brings out more of Azula's spite, and Zuko becomes worried about safety. He asks if Katara would maybe like to come with him to practice instead of sitting around in her little room, hoping to keep her closer in case Azula tried anything.

It's at these firebending practices that Katara starts to learn combat bending. She mimics and mines certain moves when she thinks no one is watching, slowly learning what does and doesn't move the water. She learned, if she loosened her stance, made her body just a bit more fluid as it moved instead of sharp like firebenders, she could waterbend. Slowly, she adapts, teaching herself to fight by changing firebending moves to fit her needs.

It's about a year after Katara arrives in the Fire Nation that it happens. The sickness returns with a vengeance, and Fire Lady Ilah needs full time care again. Katara, attached to this woman whose life she holds in her hands and has been at the side of for over a year, weeps when she realizes she's not enough to save her. At 9, Katara must tell Fire Lord Azulon that she is weak and can not do the one thing that they kept her around for. She cowered as the Fire Lord raged, knowing that it could be the last thing she ever sees.

"It is only by Fire Lady Ilah's will that you live," Azulon tells her after the funeral. "It is her memory that stays my hand. Do not sully it, lest I forget why you are here."

Katara is put into Ursa's care, and is placed in lessons. She attends private classes, learning Fire Nation history, math, and literature. Her life becomes so busy, she barely has time for anything but her studies. Zuko is her only reprieve, and they share their wants and desires. Zuko wants to become someone that his mother and father can be proud of. Katara just wants to go home. Zuko promises that, some day, some how, he'll make that happen for her. Katara thanks him, but she knows that it's impossible.

#zutara #wip #fanfic idea #atla #avatar the last airbender #zuko #katara

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chocochipbiscuit · 11 months

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Fic (and nonfic!) Recs for Pride!

In honor of Pride, have some of my favorite F/F and F/NB reads!

Short stories (available online)

Radcliffe Hall by Miyuki Jane Pinckard - 40k word novella, with a Japanese student attending an American women's college in 1908. It's a Gothic novel with the characters encountering the supernatural, which is no less malevolent than systemic racism and homophobia.

The First Stop Is Always the Last by John Wiswell - Short and sweet time loop flirtation!

Scallop by J.L. Akagi - A woman begins growing eyes all over her body, and struggles to hide them. All the warnings for body horror, eye injury, and referenced sexual assault.

The World Ends in Salty Fingers and Sugared Lips by Jen Reese - Time loop story about the end of the world and the ways we try to deal with the crushing uncertainty of the inevitable.

Romance

One Last Stop by Casey McQuiston - Subway time travel romance! August moves to New York and meets Jane, a butch punk from the 70s who’s trapped on the subway. It’s warm and sweet and funny, with all the feels and queer found family goodness.

Fatal Fidelity by Rien Gray - Dark romance/erotic suspense featuring a bi femme fatale and a nonbinary assassin! The series begins with Love Kills Twice, in which Justine hires an assassin to get rid of her abusive husband…unaware that Campbell was also hired to kill her. Absolutely delicious.

Feminine Pursuits series by Olivia Waite - While I’m listing it as a series, each novel is entirely stand-alone! These are a set of historical F/F novels featuring women in arts and science (and beekeeping!) making their way and falling in love with one another!

Mrs. Martin’s Incomparable Adventure by Courtney Milan - Historical romance as two older women (73 and 69 years old, respectively!) plot the downfall of an absolutely Terrible Nephew who deserves everything that happens to him. An absolutely delicious comedic romp.

The Cybernetic Tea Shop by Meredith Katz - An AI repair technician and an autonomous robot who runs a small tea shop, set in a retro-futuristic America. It’s warm and gentle and yearning in very good ways.

Horror/Suspense

Manhunt by Gretchen Felker-Martin - Gender apocalypse featuring trans women! A virus has turned anyone with over a certain level of testosterone into cannibal rape monsters, so we’re following our trans protagonists as they try to survive feral men, murderous TERFs, and a sociopathic bunker brat. This deserves a LOT of content warnings but it’s also been blurbed as a ‘bleeding love letter to trans women’ and it really is.

Blackwater Sister by Zen Cho - A Malaysian-American lesbian moves to Malaysia with her family, where she is haunted by her grandmother’s ghost. Her grandmother is out for supernatural revenge, involving our protagonist with gangsters and a terrifying goddess.

Fingersmith by Sarah Waters - Historical crime novel in which a thief poses as a lady’s maid for a con, and ends up developing feelings for the mark. Except the lady’s not as innocent as she seems, and it’s difficult to add more without spoiling the novel but it’s good!

Science fiction

A Memory Called Empire by Arkady Martine - Ambassador Mahit Dzmare travels to the capital of the interstellar Teixcalaanli Empire, discovers that her predecessor has died, and must find not only who murdered him, but why—while trying not to get murdered herself, and trying to maintain her small station’s independence from Teixcalaan’s ever-expanding empire. And there is a sequel but that has its own plot and requires you to read this one anyway!

Passing Strange by Ellen Klages - Set in San Francisco, built on artifice and delight as we follow a group of queer women both present and in the 1940s. Central story is a romance, two women trying to navigate both joy and the brutality of the worlds they inhabit.

This Is How You Lose the Time War by Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone - An epistolary love story across time and space, in far futures and alternative pasts as two rival agents—post-singularity Red and bio-consciousness Blue—foil and thwart one another.

Fantasy

The Burning Kingdoms by Tasha Suri - Indian-inspired fantasy trilogy (third book coming in 2024!) that follows a captive princess and a maidservant with forbidden magic who navigate the the tension between their different loyalties and the politics of empire. Just! So good!

The Kingston Cycle by C.L. Polk - A fantasy trilogy (that’s actually complete!) set in a world where witches are persecuted and placed in asylums…while secretly, the witches of elite families use that power in service of the crown. The first book (Witchmark) starts with a murder mystery and a doctor with PTSD who follows that mystery to government secrets that force him to confront his estranged family. It’s also M/M, but the sequels (Stormsong and Soulstar) center around F/F and F/NB main pairings, respectively.

The Locked Tomb by Tamsyn Muir - The first book starts with swordjock butches and lesbian necromancers in space going through (essentially) a haunted mansion together, and it just keeps going after that! It’s delightful, deranged, and full of fantastic characters I want to gnaw on!

When the Tiger Came Down the Mountain by Nghi Vo - A beautiful frame story with a very fairytale feel, where the cleric Chih is telling the story of a tiger and her lover, a female scholar, to a trio of hungry tigers who threaten to eat them if Chih tells the story incorrectly!

A Master of Djinn by P. Djeli Clark - Mystery and magic and suspense in a steampunk Cairo, set forty years after magic returned to the world! The first female agent for the Ministry of Alchemy, Enchantments, and Supernatural Entities is assigned to discover who murdered members of a secret cult. In addition to solving the case, she’s also assigned a rookie partner to train, and navigating the surprise return of her girlfriend, who has her own secrets! This is a really fun romp, full of joy and wonder. (And Fatma’s fabulous suits!)

Nonfiction

In the Dream House by Carmen Machado - A memoir about surviving domestic abuse, with each chapter using a different trope or genre convention to not only explore the way the relationship affected her sense of self, but also about trying (or failing) to find that representation in cultural history. It’s a rough read in places, but absolutely worth it if you’re in a space to handle that sort of content. (And in case it’s not obvious: her ex was another woman. Abuse isn’t limited by gender.)

#pride #book recs #story recs #f/f #f/nb #genre fiction #I wanted to keep this list short'n punchy but if you have questions or want to know about content warnings hmu!

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backjustforberena · 1 month

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So, sort of knowing where this scene is set is making me want to reevaluate it and try and come up with what's happening and why. This is not Rhaenys being a pacifist or saying "don't go to war" - I mean, if nothing else, she's the one who dragged her husband out of bed to make him go and pledge for Rhaenyra. We left Rhaenys at the end of Season 1 during a moment of agency and a moment of action for the character: going to patrol the Gullet. She's in it. She's not flinching.

But being an active participant and being willing to fight does not automatically turn you into either a warmonger or bloodthirsty person. Being fierce in war does not mean inviting it, to the cost of everything.

We know that Rhaenys is going to be a large presence in the war: we see her on the wide shot sitting at the Painted Table, opposing Daemon. The idea that a "pacifist" or someone hesitant to be in the war would be sitting right by her Queen's side is a bit daft, when others could easily hold that place (not least Corlys).

The good chance is, looking at the outfits, this is on or around the funeral for Lucerys. I don't think it's specifically at the event, given that Rhaenys's silhouette on the wide shot seems a lot bulkier and floor length, so she's at least got some sort of outer layer on, if not a whole different outfit/possibly a dress (in other news: please give my lady more than one outfit for this season, I beg).

But either way, this is occurring around a time that Rhaenyra is in flux. Where her emotions are strongest. It's not at the start of the war - so it's not Rhaenys giving a preachy speech or telling her to turn back or whatever. Things have happened. Time has passed. Alliances have been made and quite possibly other things have occurred. A very important thing to note is: Daemon isn't there. He has left for Harrenhal and Jace has returned.

For the first time, probably, Rhaenys will have the chance to counsel Rhaenyra without Daemon's influence or presence. Daemon, who has been gung-ho about vengeance since Viserys popped his clogs and is likely no better now. Someone who feeds Rhaenyra's worst instincts.

Rhaenyra is inexperienced at war. She's never participated in one, never been close to one, never waged one. She's never been in this position of responsibility. There's a decent change she can romanticise it, even, given her father's tales of Valyria, the glorification of Daemon, her childhood wish to be a knight and ride to battle and glory and the righteousness of her cause and her claim as she sees it.

It makes sense for Rhaenys to have both an opinion on that and to offer council, given Rhaenys's own experiences. What Rhaenys is saying is that: there will be a cost. It will not be easy and Luke's death is not the worst thing that will occur, potentially. It will get messier and messier, she could lose more and more. Including Jace, who has just returned to them. And all of that, as Queen, will be on Rhaenyra's shoulders. She has to remain level-headed as opposed to being ruled by emotion and ruled by "the desire to burn and kill" because that way madness lies.

I think the order of the lines will go like this, with them being split up by either more dialogue from one or both of the women:

"When the desire to kill and burn takes hold and reason is forgotten.. we will not even remember what began the war in the first place." [...] "There is no war so hateful to the Gods as a war between kin. And no war so bloody as a war between dragons."

Rhaenys starts by looking into the middle-distance, not looking at Rhaenyra. She is empathising with what Rhaenyra is feeling and remembers experiences that she has been through that conjure up the same desire. The war has started, you see that in the language.

And it makes sense if Rhaenyra is feeling like she is starting this for Luke or starting it for her father or starting it for some noble reason for Rhaenys to keep that in check if she sees Rhaenyra veering towards revenge or vengeance without limit - something that is likely to come out at such an event as Luke's funeral and the aftermath of finding those remains (because a woman screaming over the remains of their burnt son, how could she possibly relate...).

But then she will turn to Rhaenyra. Then she'll look and say the next part which is, essentially: be certain. This war will not be easy, be just or be glorious. It will not be a crusade, it will not be idealistic, it will not go how Rhaenyra expects and at the end of the day, even if victory is assured, people may not like you for it. It will change you. It will have a cost.

That's not something to necessarily run away from or hide from. But it is something to keep in mind and be aware. Don't be consumed. Don't prolong it. Don't deny it. They are in it now. They are all in it. For Rhaenyra and she has to understand that. Whatever Rhaenyra decides, it affects everything. Whatever Rhaenyra is ruled by, it changes all.

#i needed to get it off my chest #rhaenys targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen

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ladystoneboobs · 7 months

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i present: small and non-verbal but very funny star wars moments:

ep. V: the empire strikes back--the millenium falcon achieves hyperspeed again, despite the imperials' best plans to the contrary. admiral piett and his men are terrified of vader's reaction, all trying to stay out of his path. but he's still too busy brooding on his loss of luke to even force-choke anyone. that's how thrown off he was by his newly-mutilated son running away from him!

the sole exception to this collective terror being this guy, so intent on his own important work, that he doesn't even notice his scary boss until darth vader has walked right past him.

ep. III: revenge of the sith--padme's droids somehow getting her unconscious body back on her ship.

in the novelisation, r2-d2 just drags her up the ramp with his gadgetry, but in the script it's c-3po who carried her up bridal style. which would be impossible to film when 3po could barely manage to move around under his own weight. what makes it really funny for me is that there was no need for any of this. why not just have obi-wan pick her up as he's hurrying outta there after failing to kill her husband? i mean, it's surely not good to be lying out in the open on a volcanic world with poisonous gases, but it wouldn't be good for obi-wan running around out there either, and this lady was about to have broken heart as her only known cause of death. when has science ever held back star wars? and i can't imagine that being dragged by wires from artoo or dropped every few steps by threepio could've been too good for her body either. just makes for an absurd little (offscreen) background detail amid the tragedy of the end of padme's life, imho.

ep. IV: a new hope--obi-wan vanishing into thin air when struck down and vader's (very understandable) bafflement afterward.

by this point in the second screencap, luke is shooting at him in retaliation and the stormtroopers are all shooting back at luke, but anakin is still dealing with this unprecendented vanishing and busy searching for any corporeal remains of obi-wan kenobi with his boot. "where did you go, my old master? how could this happen? i wasn't done fighting with you yet."

ep. V: the empire strikes back--vader inviting lando calrissian, chewbacca, han solo, and princess leia to share a meal with him and boba fett, before taking chewie, han, and leia prisoner and torturing han.

i think a lot of people must assume there was no actual meal, but it's not like vader had to go to all that trouble in the first place of setting out an entire banquet table with proper containers and utensils. just because that was lando's pretext to bring them to vader does not necessitate actually having a table set. darth vader could have had them led into any other room with boba fett and stormtroopers waiting to just arrest them right away. instead, as we can see in the second screencap, (over lando's shoulder and leia's bun), vader did sit down at the head of the table, waiting for his prey to join him. and i swear, in one of the earlier drafts of empire's screenplay there is actually a scene showing their awkward meal together. or rather, han and leia being served food and drinks while darth vader just sits there, watching evilly, explaining his great villainous plan to use them to trap luke. it's like dr. evil making austin and vanessa sit down at his table in the first austin powers movie. darth vader really did always live for drama

ep. VI: return of the jedi--leia telling han that she loves luke, but not that way. he's her brother, silly! as if this is something they all knew all along, with zero follow-up explanation. you can just see han wordlessly processing this bombshell of brand new information through his facial expressions alone. (this lasts so long that i wouldn't even count it were it not likely overshadowed by everything else in the ending of rotj.)

wh-what did you say? your brother? since when?

wait-wait-wait. i've seen you mouth kissing luke right in front of me before. i'm so confused now.

just what kind of weirdo family have i gotten myself mixed up with here?

oh, well, she's only kissing me now. that's good enough, i guess. maybe?

hey, as long as you do love me and luke in different ways ...

i don't know much about families, but i've heard they all have their weird traditions. so who am i to judge you, babe? as long as we're together now, that's all that matters.

#swedit #star wars #anakin skywalker #darth vader #padme amidala #lando calrissian #chewbacca #han solo #leia organa #yes i did use very specific adjectives to exclude most of the st #tho i do think there's some funny intentional and more overt humor in the jj saga #tlj was more marvel-like humor which was its real greatest sin #tumblr won't let you do a numbered list in descending order so just imagine it's a top 5 that way #(c)lsb

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coppoladelrey · 2 years

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The Pretender - Chapter l

A/N: So Aemond inspired me to write again, hope you guys like it and please let me know if I should do more of this story. Feedback is greatly appreciated, even if it’s to say that it sucks LOL.

Summary: You are the spitting image of a Lady of the Reach, when she framed you for a crime you did not commit you become her and marry her betrothed, Prince Aemond Targaryen.

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: Violence, let me know if there’s anything else.

Tag List: @aemonds-war-crime

The Pretender Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Life at your grandparents’ farm wasn’t easy, but it was all you knew. Waking up before the sun, milking the cows, taking take of the sheep, making sure the crops were growing properly, cleaning the chicken coop, everything that your grandparents couldn’t do. There was one thing that you loved more than anything, and that was horses, your family didn't have the money for one, so you tried to find wild horses, they were fearless and dangerous but you were able taim most of them.

A horse that hasn’t left your side since you were only thirteen was a black horse, he was a beauty, he always found you, having a domestic side but always wild at heart. You named him Arrow, due to the fact that he’s so quick, always has been. Arrow always found his way back to you, and he loved you and you loved him, you didn't have enough money for a saddle, so you rode him bareback.

After your chores you went to find Arrow, it was a freeing feeling being able to ride on his back, being tired didn't matter, worrying about what to do after your grandparents die, being tired after a long day at the farm, none of that matters when you’re with Arrow.

You were whistling, looking for Arrow in a field the grass was tall the sun was almost setting and you saw him, he was eating. You approached him, and he looked at you, the bond was strong between the two of you.

“I’ve missed you, Arrow.” You put your head on his, and he neighed you’d like to think that he missed you as well. “Let’s ride.” You jumped on his back, you tried to care for him, brushing his hair but he always came back more wild than before.

You always let Arrow decide where to take you, he knew the Reach quite well and took you to so many different and exciting places. You held on tight to his hair and he went. You closed your eyes, and the wind on your face was incredible, sometimes you wished to be like Arrow, being attached to nowhere.

Arrow stopped by a river, and you came off of him and started drinking water off the river. The sun was setting so you started thinking about coming back home. You started touching Arrow, you wished that he would come home with you but you loved him too much to sentence him to such a cruel fate, he was free. You heard hustling from the trees, you decided to leave. But it was too late, a couple appeared from the forest.

The man had to be a knight, and the woman was wearing an incredible purple dress, she looked absolutely amazing. The man looked angry, drawing his sword.

“Who are you?” He screamed, his sword was pointed at you. Arrow was getting scared, but you were able to calm him down.

“My love, she’s simply a farmer girl. She has no idea who we are.” You were avoiding looking at them, you wanted no trouble with the noble people.

The Lady approached you, you took a step back. She did not like that, she grabbed your jaw rather forcefully. You looked at her, you couldn’t believe it she looked exactly like you and she had a surprised face, the same as you.

“By the gods, you look exactly like me. If you weren’t so dirty and a peasant, you could be a pretender.” The Lady finally released your jaw, it hurt so much. “Have you lost your voice, peasant?” She was rude, and you did not like her one bit.

“I do, you haven’t asked anything before, m’lady.” She hit you, hard. You knew there would a bruise tomorrow, why did she do this? You almost fell, but you got your footing before that.

“Do not talk back, peasant.” Her words held so much venom, you hated the royals so much. “I simply had the most extraordinary idea. I will go to Braavos with William and you shall marry the one-eyed monstrosity in Kings Landing.” The knight, William you assumed finally approached the two of you. Your face held nothing but confusion, you pretending to be her?

“That would never work, this peasant doesn’t know how to behave, how to read.” William held contempt for you, but his voice had a tinge of pity.

“It will work, we will teach her everything. She shall become a Lady of House Oxwell, she shall become me.” You knew that name, her family was the richest in all of Westeros, richer than the Lannisters, they say.

“No.” You simply stated, you didn't want to become her, you wanted to be truly free like Arrow, you wanted nothing in your name, you craved freedom, you craved being away from the farm, you craved peace, you craved the wind on your hair.

“No, how dare you…” William started drawing his sword again, but the Lady stopped him.

“Most peasants would kill for an opportunity such as this, why do you refuse? Being adorned with the finest jewellery, touching only the finest silk, eating only the best meats? What do you truly desire?” Her line of questioning was uncomfortable, she wanted you to say things that you never told anyone before, of the deepest desire within your soul.

“I wish to be free, I wish to take my horse and ride him through the seven Kingdoms.” You uttered the words, finally. A weight has been lifted off your shoulders.

“Do you have a name?” It was as if she completely ignored your words.

“Y/N.” You wished that you could take back your words, those people didn't deserve to know of your heart’s desires.

“My name is Shaera Oxwell.” You’ve heard of her, the only daughter of Lord Lewis Oxwell. She could do no wrong in her father’s eyes, whispers around the town are told of her being a whore, entertaining knights and Lords, going to whore houses, and laying with men and women alike. You didn't know if there were any truths to those rumours, but she was unaccompanied by a man that certainly wasn’t her husband. “Do you have a family?” She queries, her curiosity was harmless, you thought.

“I live with my grandparents on a farm, not far from here.” You pointed in the direction where your farm was.

“I apologize for my antics, you must be impatient to go home.” Shiera allowed you to go back to your horse, you passed her and William. You mounted Arrow and you went back home.

The interaction with the Lady felt like an unusual dream, you put it past you. You would never see her again. Arrow took back to the farm and left, opening the door you realized your grandparents were asleep, you simply laid on your bed, sleep wasn’t far behind.

You woke up before your grandparents and you started work again, one more day. The encounter with Lady Shiera was long forgotten, you had many things to occupy your mind with.

“Y/N, come quick.” Your grandfather shouted, you could hear the panic in his voice. You ran towards him, he was close to the sheep.

“What’s wrong, grandfather?” He looked to be deep in thought, looking at the sheep.

“We are missing a sheep, it must’ve escaped last night.” Your grandfather was quite attached to the sheep, he has been taking care of sheep since he was a boy.

Your grandfather worked for a small Lord, not far from where you live now. That’s how he got enough money to buy your farm, the Lord taught your grandfather how to read and your grandfather taught you as well. You knew how lucky you were to be able to count and read, it was impossible for anyone to take advantage of you when you went to the city with your grandmother to sell your goods.

“I will go find it.” You hugged your grandfather in hopes to calm him, and you ran to where the sheep usually got stuck.

You must’ve been walking for five minutes when you heard the sheep. It had a paw stuck in a hole, you gently removed the paw from the whole and carried the sheep. You knew the sheep wouldn't go too far, especially with all the holes around this rocky area. Commotion on the farm was heard, things being thrown and screams. You started to run towards the farm, you saw guards thrashing your home.

“What is this?” You screamed to the guards, the sheep was still in your arms. Your grandfather and grandmother were crying, you had no idea what was happening.

“One of you stole the necklace of Lady Shiera Oxwell and I will find it and take the hand of whoever did it.” The guard screamed in your face, the sheep was scared you tried to calm her down before the poor thing had a heart attack.

This woman probably lost the necklace in the forest, you thought. But why are they here, a voice whispered in your head. Your grandfather came to you and took the sheep from your arms.

“I’ll take her away.” He whispered to you, kissed your cheek and left to put the sheep where she belonged.

That’s when you heard a really over top fake crying, it was her. William was consoling her, always going for big theatrics. She approached the guards, you realized that they had her House Crest on their chest.

“Have you found it? Please, it was papa’s gift.” The main guard was rushing the other ones, how could no one notice that there were no tears in her eyes?

“We will find it, my Lady. Do not fret.” The guard assured her, you felt as if this wasn’t really happening.

“What makes you so sure that it is here?” You question Shiera, and the guard has no reservations about slapping you with the back of his hand you fell onto the floor and from your pocket, fell the necklace, it was a blue diamond, not that you would know.

“My necklace!” Shaera exclaimed, you had no idea how it was in your pocket.

“Well, well, well. We have a little thief in our hands!” The guard grabbed you from the floor with no care. “You must lose your hand for this, even better your life.” The guard seemed so pleased with himself, he was a person that loved to inflict pain on others.

“It was me, it was me!” Your grandfather shouted, he couldn’t allow his beloved granddaughter to die for a crime she did not commit.

“Very well then, you shall be hanged at dusk tomorrow.” The main guard signalled to the other guards to take your grandfather away, your grandmother a mute was crying in the corner.

“Stop! I’ll do anything, do not kill my grandfather!” Tears were running down your face, you couldn’t let your grandfather be killed for this.

“Ser Wilbert, I will not allow tragedy to be struck in this family. I shall take the girl to work for me and her grandfather shall be free of charge of such crime.” At that moment you knew, she owned you, she just bought you for the price of your grandfather’s life.

“You are too forgiving, my Lady.” He bowed to her and looked at you with such venom. He kept looking at you, this time really taking in your features. Lady Shaera realized what he was doing and took his attention from you.

“That is nothing, Ser Wilbert. Take the girl to my carriage.” He started to drag you to the carriage, your grandfather was crying but the other guards were stopping him from getting any closer, you were kicking and crying but Ser Wilbert was much stronger than he appeared. Before you were put in the carriage, you saw Arrow. He was running away from the farm, you would never see your family or Arrow again. You would never be free, you would never be like Arrow.

He threw you in the carriage and closed the door. You broke down, you could hear the faint voice of your grandfather. Being in this carriage made you realize that people could never see you being weak again, she would never break your spirit, and she would never win.

The carriage door was opened and Ser William helped her get in, she sat down in front of you. The carriage was so spacious, it was almost the same size as your house.

“By the gods, you reek of manure.” You didn't understand the words that she said, but you realized that it was something about your smell because of the way she was holding her nose.

“If it bothers you so much, let me go.” Shaera was with her hand in your jaw in an instant.

“You are not going anywhere, you are my freedom. You shall do exactly as I say otherwise I’ll kill your useless family, starting with your mute grandmother, I wonder if she can scream. And after you watch Ser Wilbert killing your family, he’ll cut your hands, and feet and gauge your eyes out with a hot spoon. I own you now, and then you will become me.” She was looking for fear in your eyes, she found it despite you trying to hide as much as possible.

The carriage started and you decided to say nothing, it was going to be a long journey.

_______________________________________

It was evening when you arrived at the castle, you hadn't slept while Shaera slept the whole way through. Everything was quiet, you assumed that everyone was asleep. You wondered how your grandparents were, how they were going to survive without you. Shaera handed you a cloak.

“Put this on, otherwise people will see how much you look like me.” You quickly put on the cloak and you started following her, the castle was enormous, unlike anything you’d ever seen in your life. If it was in any other circumstances, you’d be excited to see something so grand.

The three of you ran towards the Lady’s chambers, the castle felt like a maze. It was intimidating, would you need to learn where everything was in the castle?

“This is my wing of the castle, no one shall disturb us. We must start with the lessons first thing in the morning. Go.” Shaera motioned to a room, whilst she and Ser William went to another.

You opened the door and the room was huge, you went to the bed, and the furs and sheets were incredibly soft. That’s how clouds must feel like, you thought. Laying on the bed, was the softest thing you’ve ever felt sleep came in more easily than ever before.

Waking up the sun hasn’t risen yet, so you decided to look around the bedroom. It was the first time you’d ever seen a mirror, you picked up the brush and started brushing your hair, the brush was soft it was easy to untangle your wild hair. After finishing your hair, you could see how much you look like Lady Shaera. It felt absolutely disgusting, how can you look like someone so vile? After that you started looking at the dresses that Lady Shaera had in the bedroom, they looked uncomfortable but so pretty.

_______________________________________

Hours passed and there was no sign of her or Ser William, you started hearing commotion outside the bedroom, things being moved around you decided not to come out it probably wasn’t Lady Shaera. You were right, you put your ear in the door and you heard the servants talking amongst themselves. Water was being dropped somewhere, she dismissed the servants and the noise stopped. The doors were opened and there was Lady Shaera, she had a white dress, you assumed that’s how she slept.

“Aren’t you an early riser? Come, I must try to remove the grime off of you.” She ushered you away from the bedroom, you saw the bathtub, it was made out of wood. You touched the water and it was warm, it had a nice smell and rose petals on the water. “Remove this disgusting dress and get in the water.” No one has ever seen you naked since you became a woman, not even your grandmother. “By the gods, do not make me wait!” She grabbed a knife and ripped the dress off your body.

You’ve never felt so violated, you felt cheap and vulnerable. She motioned for you to get in the bathtub and you did. Shaera grabbed a rag and started rubbing off the dirt from your body, she was forceful you could tell that she wasn’t affectionate or nurturing in any way. You were trying to hide but she was having none of it, always getting your arms out of her way. Getting scrubbed by her made you feel like cattle as if your privacy and modesty didn't matter. Shaera gave you a towel and you started to dry yourself.

“We now must dress you, we shall see if you actually resemble me.” She started dressing you, first with the undergarments, then the corsets and finally the dress. It was extremely heavy and uncomfortable but so lovely. The dress was purple, the House’s colours were purple and white, and the aminal on the crest was a horse. She started preparing your hair the same way she uses hers, your hair was longer than hers but it did not matter.

“By the gods, it’s almost as if I am looking in a mirror.” You heard a knock at the door, she looked at you excited. “It’s Ser William, he will be the hardest one to deceive but nothing better than passing throught the worst first.” She was smirking, and went to hide in the bedroom you were in.

“Come in.” You said, and it was in fact Ser William.

“Where is the peasant?” He inquired, you could do this you thought to yourself, Your grandfather’s life was in danger also yours.

“Still asleep.” You rolled your eyes, Shaera has done it plenty of times.

“Good, that means we have time for yourselves.” He approached you, and that’s when you flinched away from him. That’s when he noticed. “You’re not Shaera, are you?” He seemed to doubt himself, did you look like that much like this woman?

The door was opened and Shaera seemed really pleased with herself, you were able to fool her lover, for a few seconds but you did.

“I’ve done the most marvellous job.” They shared a passionate kiss, you looked away physical displays of affection are foreign to you. “What gave it away?” She was so excited, she finally saw that it would work.

“She flinched away when I approached her.” He simply stated.

“Well, if that was the only thing…by the gods, she’ll be able to become me.” You knew that was dangerous, if anyone found out you’ll be killed so you had to play the part, for your grandfather’s sake.

“We shall begin now, I am supposed to leave for Kings Landing to marry the one-eyed monstrosity in three months.” This was the second time she said this, you were curious.

“Who are you talking about?”

“He is the younger Prince, his name is Aemond. He had his eye gouged out by his nephew, and he’s a cruel man. Some say that he kills animals for fun, some say he brutalizes peasants in his free time.” Both she and Ser Willliam started snickering at your terrified expression. “We shall begin.”

___________________________________________

Shaera spoke five languages, played a few instruments and was very well-read. She was teaching you the languages whilst teaching you how to behave, and every time you got something wrong she would beat you with a cane. You realized that you were smarter than you thought, picking up the languages rather quickly. What you were struggling with was how to use the cutlery, and how to mimic Shaera’s handwriting.

“Wrong.” She beat you with a cane again, you had bruises all over your body due to her beatings.

“Will you please stop hitting me?” You shouldn’t have said that, she beat you again.

“I’ll stop once you get it right.” She sneered, you got her handwriting well but her signature was an issue. “Gaomagon ao shifang nyke?” (Do you understand me?) Her cane was raised again, she was doing that quite often, speaking with you in many different languages, and today was High Valyrian.

“Kessa.” (Yes) You replied, and her cane was lowered.

“Sȳz.” (Good) She was proud of you, impressing this woman was no small feat.

You did get it right eventually, she told you all the stories of her life. Shaera would question you about everything, history and philosophy.

“Who were Viserys l’s parents?” Her cane was raised, you couldn’t take this anymore.

“Baelon and Alyssa.” You knew everything, five months had passed and you didn't leave her chambers.

“Handwriting?” You handed her the paper, and she smiled.

“It appears that my cane is no longer necessary, you shall sleep in your bed tonight, Lady Shaera.” She smirked and left you alone, you were happy for some reason but you were dreading meeting Prince Aemond, would he mistreat you, would he kill you? Only time would tell.

The servants undressed you and you fell asleep, wondering what else Shaera and Ser William would teach you.

__________________________________________

When you woke up the servants were already in your chambers, Shaera was adamant on you mistreating the servants and being rude to everyone else, but that’s not what you would do.

“Your father demands to speak with you, m’lady.” The servant spoke softly.

“Thank you, help me get dressed please.” The servant was stunned but complied, she never heard you say any of those words before, no one ever has.

After you were dressed the servant left and you opened the other bedroom but there was nothing there, only a letter on the bed, and the blue diamond necklace.

“Dearest Shaera,

We shall never see each other again, I am to be happy in Braavos with the love of my life.

Be happy, be ruthless.

Y/N.”

Why wouldn’t she say something yesterday? You were angry at her, for putting you in this situation, for not giving a warning so you could mentally prepare. You’ve never met your father before. You put the necklace, you left your chambers since the first time you came here, you needed to have the courage to become Shaera, you were her. The doors of the Great Hall were opened and for the first time, you’ve seen the reactions to you, snickers, eye rolls or simply anger.

“My precious daughter, you have been hiding from this old man. Must I suffer this much?” You heard the pure love coming from your father, but you’ve never met yours, your grandfather never spoke of your parents. You ran towards him and you hugged him tightly.

“I apologise, father. Would ever be able to forgive me?” You had tears in your eyes, the rush of emotions was too much and everyone was shocked, by the display of affection and kind words uttered by you.

“Of course, I simply wanted to inform you that Ser Criston Cole is arriving in a fortnight to escort you to Kings Landing.” Your blood ran cold, you were so scared of Prince Aemond but you had to do this.

“Then I must prepare, thank you, father.” You hugged him again, and Lewis was giving you so much love, so much care, he was incredible.

The days went by really quickly, you knew of Ser Criston Cole the trusted Kingsguard of Queen Alicent. Today was the day that you were leaving for Kings Landing and you were afraid, of being discovered, of being hurt by Prince Aemond.

“Are you excited, daughter?” You could see that your father was excited, he wanted what was best for you so you smiled at him.

“Yes, but I am afraid of not being enough, father.” Your father scoffed at you and hugged you.

“It’s the other way around, they won’t be enough for you.” He kissed the top of your head, and the castle’s doors were being opened.

That’s when you saw him, Ser Criston Cole he looked angry, your reputation reached Kings Landing you thought. It would take some time to repair that, he got off his horse and approached you and your father.

“Ser Criston, welcome to our humble home. This is my daughter, Lady Shaera Oxwell.” Your father motioned towards you, Ser Criston looked nervous.

“It is known that Lady Shaera can’t control her tongue, be aware.” Ser Criston reminded himself of the Queen’s words, he was expecting a rude comment or even hurtful.

“Ser Criston, I was told that you are the Queen’s most trusted knight?” You approached him carefully, you didn't want to antagonize the man.

“That I am, my Lady.” He curtsied you tightly.

“Then I shall be at peace knowing that the King and Queen sent their best fighter to accompany me.” That caught Criston off guard, he was expecting an insult not a compliment.

“Thank you, my Lady.” After this interaction, he knew one thing: The rumours of Lady Shaera Oxwell were that, only rumours.

#aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen x female reader #prince aemond #prince aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #prince aemond x reader

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boldlygloriousqueen · 9 months

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Three Connected Souls -

Part 1: Two Souls

Griffith x Oc x Guts

Just a quick warning! This series will have smut, sexual @ssault and the alluding of it, cursing, toxic/controlling behaviors, obsessions/possessiveness, non-con, blood, and violence.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Warning for this chapter: SLIGHT VIOLENCE

"Little princess, where have you gone? Princess Daphne! Why must you make everything so difficult for me?!"

A lady with black hair ran through the halls in search of the young girl who watched the lady from above the second floor. The woman seemed close to yanking out all her hair out of frustration with the child she lost. The missing young girl had light brown hair that was braided up and soft hazel eyes that followed the women as she searched the halls. The girl remained silent and bent down to hide her small figure from the woman while her hands gripped the poles of the balcony.

Once the woman was out of her eyesight, she stood up and walked towards the stairs. She slipped off her heels that looked rather plain. As a matter of fact, so was her dress. It was mainly white and yellow and had no special patterns or a single jewel rested upon it. She might have been able to pass as a maid. Daphne was never one to wear expensive dresses as in her mind there were "better ways for money to be spent" given the midlands' current state. Most ten year old princesses and nobles didn't have the same mindset as Daphne, which would explain why her father spoils her rotten in any way he could.

The princess ran down the steps, pattering her feet on the cold material with a stern face. She was upsets, very upset nonetheless. One thing Daphne hated most in the world was when promises were broken. While running through the halls, she held her dress slightly up to allow more movement for her small legs. Her hazel eyes were set on a large door engraved with golden designs. There, her father, the king, and his loyal commanders often discussed war and political issues. These were most important for the survival of Mindland, but Daphne did not care. She was a child, after all, and her mind was set on bursting into the doors demanding for her father to take her to the festival the towns people had every year on the same day. It was clear that Daphne could be mature at times, but she still acted like a child on other occasions.

This festival wasn't just any kind of festival, not to the princess. It was a festival that was meant to ask for the King and Midland to be blessed with good fortune during these hard times. People sell all kinds of sweets, dress in costumes, dance, and sing, but the princess's favorite time of the festival was when they lit the fireworks. Sure, she could watch that from the balcony of her room, but it was more fun to watch in person and see the common people smile. She could see that the festival was a few times people seemed to forget about the death and fighting outside the walls. It also helped her to forget.

Before the princess had the chance to create further rumors about her unladylike manners, a young boy emerged from the room. He had long white hair and blue eyes and was dressed like a nobel's son, though he was far from it. Rather, a playmate for the young princess who made a first good impression in front of the King when he was found roaming around in the courtyard. No one knew how he got in, but he did. He was described to look quite rugged, and he was skin and bones. He managed to avoid alerting any guards that interested the King. The man always enjoyed being surprised by people who proved to be of some use and so this young boy that came from the war room, was a boy full of undoutable potential, but potential isn't always enough to reach your dreams, your desires so at what cost would someone like this chose to pay?

"Griffith!" Daphne waved one of her hands up to catch his attention.

Daphne was fond of Griffith without a doubt. He never spoke behind her back like other children and adults did. He was someone who made her feel safe, and she felt that he was the only one in this castle she could share her secrets with. Of course, she was a girl so it was safe to say she had a bit of a crush on him as most young girls did when they met him, but in the eyes of adults the princess was merely happy to have someone to play with. The boy's eyes pierced the princess, but without any malicious intent. He always had that look in his eyes, like he was always chasing after something he couldn't quite reach. The smile that came after suited his face, Daphne felt the room brighten with his presence and brought a soft red hue to her cheeks as he closed the door softly, behind him.

"Princess Daphne, what brings you here?"

"A-ah, is my father inside?" Griffith's smile widened at her shyness. Griffith knew of the princess's feelings towards him. If he had to, he'd use those feelings for his own use. They belonged to him in his eyes to begin with.

"I'm afraid he is busy, princess. I do hope you do not plan to create a big ruckus. I wouldn't want you to get in trouble," Griffth walked closer to Daphne, who was pouting her lips.

"Father promised we'd attend the festival like we always do."

"I don't think that will be possible this year, princess. Your father won't be finished anytime soon." Griffith's eyes traveled down to Daphne's feet to see her barefoot were missing then to the heels in her hand.

"Princess, why aren't you wearing your heels. The floor is cold. What if you were to get sick." Griffith bent down onto one of his knees and held his hand up for Daphne to hand him one of her shoes. She furrowed her brow and hid the shoes behind her back.

"Griffith, are you my friend?" The boy stared at her slightly confused.

"Yes, of course, princess."

"Then, from now on, stop calling me princess. It just Daphne."

"But-"

"And stop acting like you're some servant. You shouldn't do this for anyone, not even me. I can take care of myself," the girl sat the two shoes down, then slipped her feet in one by one while holding her dress up for a better view. She held her hands on her hips and held her head slightly up.

"See, this is nothing."

Griffith chuckled while he stood back up. Daphne felt her cheeks burn up worse than it did before. With him being so close to her, she never noticed the slight difference in their height.

"You're right, my mistake. From now on, I won't coddle you as mush. I'm sure you already deal with that enough from everyone, but if there is anything you ever need from me, I'll always be there for you, Daphne."

Things like this were the reason Daphne was so close to Griffith. She couldn't see a life without him. Anyone else would have told the princess they couldn't do what Griffith because of the difference in their 'class'. A large smile grew on Daphne's face, and without thinking, she wrapped her arms around his waist. Griffith patted the innocent young girl's hair and rested his head a top of hers. He fond himself getting more use to the girl. He promised the moment he met her that she would br nothing more than a pawn for his dream and while that steal might the case, he was getting attached to the girl to the point he'd do anything to keep her at his side. He never met someone so unselfish, unlike himself. Her uncle would have been furious at the sight. He never liked Griffith. He always saw him as another one of his problems to deal with.

"Princess!"

The young children could hear someone yelling from the distance. Griffith took the princess's hand, and they both shared a thought together, and without saying a single word, they ran out to the garden.

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

"It's so pretty, Griffith." Daphne admired the wooden bracelet that was delicately carved and carefully tied around her wrist. Daphne and Griffith wore hoods as they walked the streets.

"It doesn't compare to your jewelry collection, but I'm glad you enjoy it." His fingers grazed her cheeks softly, having the same smile he always had when looking at her.

"I'm glad you carry that with you. It suits you," Daphne pointed to the sword hidden in the scabbard on his hip.

"Does it not scare you?"

"Why would it when your the one who's wearing it? The only people who should worry about you with that sword are the evil people in this world. Besides, you've been training a lot lately. I'm sure your an expert and... soon you could... possibly teach me to use one some day."

"I could have sworn your father said no," he spoke with an amused smile knowing Daphne's intent with the subject.

"My father is an overprotective old man who doesn't understand that I'm growing up. You never know when I'll need to use one, and it's better to be safe than sorry," the princess continued, "I should know how to protect myself. What if you are not around? Would you really trust my life with just anyone?" Griffith spoke his head, the same smile remaining.

"I suppose I wouldn't."

-Boom-

The two swiftly moved their heads to the direction of the noise, and there they saw the beautiful fireworks that lit the sky. Along came from cheers and praise from the townsfolk. Daphne found it fascinating that someone found a way to light the sky with festive colors. It seemed like something that would take up a lot of time to create, but she could never grew tired of watching them. She grabbed a hold of Griffith's arm and rested her head on his shoulder, keeping her eyes on the fireworks.

"Do you remember what you told me when we first met? About you having a dream?"

"I do," Griffith responded as his eyes went from the fireworks to the castle in the distance.

"What is your dream?"

"What I want...." he paused for a long second before breathing out a soft sigh. "That's a secret, little princess."

"Ha? Friends are supposed to share secrets with each other. You know all of mine."

"Mm, I'll tell you one day when the time is right, so don't pout."

"You promise to tell me?" Her eyes stared up at him wanting reassurance.

"I promise. Just be patient. Haven't you heard that patience is-"

"Key? Yeah, yeah. I've heard this all before. You're starting to sound like my father now. I think it was time for you to stop joining them in that war room. You might end up becoming like him,"

"I'd could never. I fear you might grow tired of me," he gently poked her nose. Happiness smeared all over her face from his touch.

"And what about you, Daphne? What are your dreams?" He asked curiously.

"....I want to help the people of Midland in any way I can, but as of now, I can not do that as I know too little," Griffith flinched slightly at her words. Most girls her age would speak of marriage, having a family, or keeping family content. Yet the princess is more concerned for others rather than herself.

"I will become Queen no matter what. I will learn until my brain hurts, I'll even be willing to ride into battle so everyone knows how serious I am. People are always worried about the next time their families eat or what war will take their children away from them," The princess pulled away from Griffith and held a fist to her heart. "When I become Queen, it will be the last thing they have to worry about."

Griffith held his head down as he stared at the ground with wide eyes. This was something he truly didn't expect her to hear. He knew the kind heart she held, but he didn't think she had that much kindness. In a way... she was reminding him of himself. The princess didn't stop there. She continued to talk further about her dreams, but the more she talked, the more Griffith zoned out into his own thoughts. How could he ever let someone like her go? She was exactly like him, no... maybe even better... different? The mere thought of it brought a devilish smile to his face that was covered by his long hair.

"You are truly delightful, Daphne,"

The princess turned towards Griffith who was mumbling. "What was that-" before she could finish her question she felt a strong force push her down.

"Hey, can't you see!" Daphne yelled at the perpetrator who had a scrunched up face. He was a young boy who had short hair that stuck up. His hair almost reminded her of a raven. He had a noticeable scar on his nose and he seemed to have the look of someone who knew not a single bit of happiness. Oddly, he held a sword on his back that seemed way too big for someone his size and height.

"Daphne! Are you okay? Are you hurt?" Griffith touched the young girl's face as he scanned her body. "You should be aware of your surroundings. You could have easily hurt her." Griffith stared up at the rough looking boy who seemed to care less as he searched his surroundings.

"Maybe next time she shouldn't be in the way," he spoke coldly before running through the crowd. Daphne was stunned to see the boy run off without even apologizing and she couldn't stand how rude he was towards them.

"I'm going to kill that jerk!" Daphne stood onto her feet and began her chase as Griffith started his after to princess.

#guts #guts berserk #griffith #beserk #griffith x oc #griffith imagine #gut x oc #beserk imagine #griffith x reader #guts x reader

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