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infiniteimaginings · 2 months

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Could you write some angsty Anthony bridgerton x wife reader. Maybe he took his anger out on her cus he was stressed or something.💋😭😫🩷

A Loving Marriage (Anthony Bridgerton x Fem!Reader)

Summary: Anthony had married you, he adored you during your courtship. He showed his affections through floral arrangements, joyous laughter, your dance card always had his name first. When he married you though, some things changed. He would be warm, but it slowly dimmed. He was always in his office, he never spoke to you, why does he do so? Pronouns: You/Yours, She/Her Warnings: Angst Word Count: 4.0k A/N: I love angst, I love it! I looked at this request three times, midnight struck, and I turned into a writing goblin.

It had been a nice day, you had finally drawn your husband, Anthony Bridgerton, out of the house to have a delightful picnic with you. The two of you were discussing anything but pressing matters, laughing, eating the small sandwiches, drinking the sweet but tart lemonade. Occasionally your fingers would touch, a burst of energy escaping into your bodies until your fingers interlocked, accepting the warmth with open arms.

The sun was shining brightly, the clouds perfect white and fluffed into shapes the two of you pointed out and playfully teased each other for. The slight tilt of his head when you spoke of a cloud being shaped as one thing, his squinted eyes and scrunched nose were all that mattered to you. The way the sun kissed his skin and a few freckles had come to light, it was so beautiful to you, he was so beautiful.

When Anthony turned his gaze to you from the heavily brightened sky, the corners of his eyes crinkled with the smile he gave you. His toothy grin was matched with him asking, “What is it?” You paid no mind to the question, simply smiling at your husband, your heart warming as you stared at him in adoration. You shook your head, “I just love you.” You told him, the comment making him smile wide, his teeth showing in his grin. The day was beautiful, and neither of you could deny that fact. To make the day even more beautiful, flowers were spread around your blanket on the ground, showing proof of spring.

You began to ramble a bit about the newest items you saw in the shop, Anthony just listening with loving eyes. A bee had hummed and buzzed as it circled around your head, when Anthony noticed he straightened up, his eyes widening a bit in fear. He went to move the dreadful creature from you but the bee had found its attention with him instead, buzzing around his head. Anthony had fallen still, horrified.

Anthony had just returned from shooting with his father, Edmund Bridgerton. The elder man had clasped his shoulder, telling him that in due time he will be able to show someone his best. He gave him a truthfully meaningful message about having to show someone your worst before you can show them your best, but the message didn’t stay in Anthonys head very long.

The elder had noticed a group of vibrant purple Hyacinths within their gardens, his wife's favorite flower. He decided to pick the flowers with a hum, expressing how Anthonys mother would love them. The younger boy laughed and began to pick a few himself, his father standing up, swatting a very persistent bee, Anthony shaking his head playfully. He expressed how his younger sister would be quite jealous until he noticed his father had not responded.

”Father?” Anthony spoke, turning to Edmund, the man was touching his neck. “The bloody thing stung me.” He told his son, moving his hand a bit with a twitch of his mouth. A bee sting didn’t mean much, so Anthony nodded and continued to pick a few flowers until his father began to gasp for breaths. Anthony stood, walking to Edmund, “Father, what is it?” He asked, and that question would be repeated a multitude of times with no verbal response.

Edmund Bridgerton had turned to his son, a bright red patch on his neck where the bee stung him, his face extremely pale, his eyes almost black as he struggled to breathe. Anthony watched his father struggle for air and collapse into his arms. He couldn’t even hear when he yelled for someone to help, he didn’t even hear when his pregnant mother, Violet Bridgerton, had come running down the small hill after seeing them through the open door in the back of their home.

Everything happened so fast and all Anthony could process was his father reaching up to cup his mothers cheek one last time, before his hand fell and the light left his eyes. Edmund Bridgerton died that day, Violet Bridgerton became a widow that day, he and his siblings lost their father that day.

Anthony was abruptly snapped out of his thoughts when you swatted the bee away mindlessly. You hummed with a breathless chuckle, “You know it’s spring when the bees are out.” you spoke, looking in the basket for another small snack, unaware of the daze Anthony had just been in. He blinked a bit, looking around as he deeply inhaled, trying not to ruin your nice moment. He clapped his hands to his knees, “Well then.” He began, “I think I have some paperwork to attend to.” He told you, standing up and brushing himself off. You looked up rather quickly from your spot on the blanket, “Can’t it wait? We were having such a nice time.” You said, pouting ever so slightly.

He shook his head, leaning down to you, pressing his lips to yours in a short kiss. “Unfortunately it can not, enjoy the rest of the picnic.” He spoke hastily, walking back into the home, leaving you alone to watch the sky.

Days had passed, Anthony had not joined you again for a picnic, nor had he joined you for any sort of meal after that day. You didn’t understand why he felt the need to lock himself in his office, what was so interesting about paperwork he could tend to at any time? You were worried for him, you knew the footmen in the household brought him food, you just weren’t sure if he ate any of it.

With that, you decided to pay your husband a visit. You dismissed the footman at the door and simply knocked, a muffled ‘Come in’ came from the other side of the door. You gently opened it, smiling sweetly at Anthony who looked up at you, expressionless. You closed the door behind you, observing your surroundings and your husband who sat behind a desk, papers piling it. He looked like he hadn’t slept, if he had then he looked like her hadn’t slept well.

You walked to him, slow steps, the heels of your shoes sounding muffled as they clicked upon the polished floors. “You’ve locked yourself away.” You told him, standing in front of his desk, fingers twiddling in front of you. Anthony kept his eyes on you, quill pen in hands, plenty of papers around that needed signatures. He cleared his throat, “Well, some matter can not be left.” He told you simply, head looking back down to his work.

You walked around the desk, hands smoothing along his shoulders, he tensed more than relaxed. “You need a break.” You hummed to him, gently pressing your hands into the blades of his shoulders. Anthony leaned his head back into the chair, sighing, “I’m sorry my love, I just have so much work to do.” He told you with closed eyes, his mouth in a frown. Your expression mirrored his and you turned his chair a bit, taking his hands in yours. “We should go to town, go for a walk.” You suggested, “Maybe we could pick some flowers and visit your family.” You continued on, hands holding his slightly larger ones in yours.

You saying that seemed to invoke some sort of reaction from your husband, he removed his hands from you, “No.” He spoke harshly, turning back to the papers. You huffed, trying to get him to look at you, he wouldn’t budge. “Why do you refuse to spend time with me? Is your paperwork that important?” You pressed on, standing at his side, pure disbelief on your face.

Anthony put his clenched fists on the desk, “Yes, it is!” He spoke loudly, not looking at you. “You are interrupting very pressing matters, so go.” He told you, head turning to you ever so slightly, one hand raised to point to the door.

The outburst had shocked you, you stood there with a hand to your chest, a frown on your face, tears threatening to prick your eyes. “Anthony I merely hoped…” You began, trying to find the words, instead you found yourself stumbling over them. Anthony shook his head, hand to his temple as he looked back down to the papers, “I care not for your wishes, leave!” HeYou stood up straight, swallowing harshly with a small sniffle. You bowed your head to him, “Of course Mr. Bridgerton.”You spoke, walking out the room, hands clasped together and head held high as you left him alone to his work.

Anthony had not come to the bedroom that night and you had not visited his office for the rest of the day. Neither of you had come down for dinner, eating respectively in separate rooms.

The next day, mid afternoon, you walked into the office area with a tea tray. Typically, a maid would bring it in for you, but you had seemed to reject the idea and believed you were perfectly capable of doing it yourself. Anthony had heard the sound of the door opening, no knock, no announcement. He looked up and saw you setting the tea tray on the low table in front of the seats in the office. The tray had two teacups and saucers, a teapot with freshly brewed tea, a sugar bowl, a milk jug, and a strainer. All of which were porcelain with multicolored, delicately painted flowers and the Bridgerton name along the side.

Anthony sighed deeply, he didn’t look irritated, he just looked tired. “ Did I not tell you to leave me be?” He asked since you had not greeted him. You didn’t look at him as you prepared your cup of tea, “That is such a way to speak to your wife Mr. Bridgerton.” You spoke sarcastically, stirring in your sugar and taking a small sip to see if it were to your tastes. A warm smile formed on your face after you drank the warm liquid, sitting comfortably in the chair a little ways across from Anthony's desk, a table in the way of you being directly in front of his desk.

Anthony clasped his hands together, elbows on the desk, “What are you doing?” He asked, lips pursed. You placed your cup on the saucer, “If you truly believe I will let you sit in this office and rot,” You spoke, finally looking at him, “you are gravely mistaken.” You told him, expressionless. Anthony tilted his head to the side, he didn’t believe he was ‘rotting’ in the office space, but he couldn’t speak since you beat him to it. “I shall remain here and tend to you until you see fit to conduct yourself as a gentleman.” You stated, hands in your lap, straightening your posture, “Or to put sourly,” You began, “an adult.”

“Do not treat me like a child.” Anthony told you, hands dropping back to the desk, no movement towards the quills.

“Then do not act like one.”

“What has prompted this?”

You pretend to think for a moment, pulling up your hand to count, “Your blatant disregard for your wife in your own home,” You spoke as you put up a finger, “your refusal to acknowledge her presence or engage with her” you continued, putting another finger up, “or even talk to her.” You finished, putting up the last finger, slightly glaring at him.

There was silence from Anthony as he bit the inside of his cheek, twitching his nose. Due to the silence, you continued to speak, “I vowed to cherish and support you through all, but I will not endure your silence.” You explained, shaking your head a bit with your words. Anthony sighed, moving a few papers out of his way, “You are aware that traditionally wives do not-”

“You did not marry me due to my traditional nature.”

There was more silence from your husband until he ran a hand through his hair. “You will not leave until I discuss ill with you?” He asked, seeming to be contemplating the idea that he just spoke into existence. You nodded, “Precisely.”

“Very well, let’s discuss ills.”

The Bridgerton man stood from his desk and strode to sit next to you. You gestured to the tea and he shook his head, leaning forward, clasping his hands. His leg shook and tapped the floor as he struggled to find the words, “My fathers death left my mother heartbroken, she never remarried.” He spoke suddenly. The words confused you a bit, was that why he had been so closed off? You turned to him fully, crossing your leg over the other, “Your mothers strength,” You began, taking a breath, “is commendable.” You commented, the Brdigerton in front of you chose not to look at you but he nodded. “She said her love for your father was true and her devotion for your father lies strong.” You continued on, thinking about the older woman and how powerful she was for standing strong for her children. “She does not need to marry if she does not wish to.” You completed your thought at his words about his mother.

Anthony put his hands on his knees, straightening himself. He sucked his teeth, “I understand that,” He told you, “but you do not understand how she flinches when they refer to her as Dowager.” He continued on.

At parties they would announce Violet Bridgerton as Dowager VIscountess Bridgerton, and they have for the many years since Edmund Bridgerton had passed.

“My mother remains a widow.” Anthony continued, voice slightly cracking when he thought about the way his mothers hand would tighten around his arm when someone greeted her as ‘Dowager’.

You nodded in understanding, no matter how strong Violet was, it still hurt. You just didn’t process why that caused him to pull from you. “Nevertheless, I am not,” You told him, the words causing him to look put his face in his hands, “hence my lack of understanding of your coldness and sudden refusal to be with me.” You spoke, staring right at him, hands in your lap picking at your nails.

“What if you find yourself a widow?” Anthony asked suddenly, now fully turned to you.

“Pardon me?” You asked blankly, brows furrowed, lips slightly parted.

“What if you find yourself to be a widow?” He repeated, slightly differently.

“If you suspect you may act recklessly, you must inform me at once." You told him cautiously, hand moving towards him, but he pulled back. "My father's passing was but a consequence of being outdoors.” He stated blankly, eyes staring forward, distantly. He never talked about his father's death, it wasn’t a topic he was very open about. “He committed no recklessness, yet the heavens saw fit to claim him.” Anthony's hands were beginning to shake before he clenched them into fists, “A virtuous man, struck down."

“Anthony-”

“What if I do not live a graciously long life?” He asked, head snapping to you, “What if I meet my end, just as young as my father?” He asked another question that you had no answer to other than, “Anthony you will live a long life-”

He stood abruptly, face red, eyes watering, “How could you possibly know that!” He yelled at you, “You do not!” He continued to yell, face such an angry red it almost scared you. He didn’t seem angry though, his eyes were filled with fear, he was scared. You did not expect him to yell or be so emotional, it hurt you deep in your heart to see him look so terrified about what could happen.

Anthony began to pace, hands in his hair and desperately pulling at his collar. “I didn’t even wish to marry,” He told you, seemingly muttering to himself. “I feared leaving my wife alone, especially if we were to have children.” He continued, not gazing at you at all.

You stood, slowly walking to him, “Yet, here you continue to stand,” You said, “alive,and wed.” You reminded him, concern flowing through you as he paced.

He stopped walking, looking at the wedding ring on his finger. “My mother was left with eight children to raise alone.” He mumbled, having to clear his throat from how low he was speaking. “I, the eldest, lost my father when I was eighteen left to carry his title and responsibility.” He spoke to you, reminding himself of all the information he didn’t know when he was eighteen and how he had to figure it all out, how he had to be the man of the house at such a young age. “I do not wish for you and our future child to endure the same fate.”

You were quiet, “Then why did you marry me?” You whispered, your expression was slightly crinkled but you were listening. Anthony had turned to you, a soft but sad expression on his face. He gently held your hands, looking into your eyes. “My affection for you was undeniable.” He confessed, cupping one of your cheeks with his large hand, a bit of sweat dripping down his forehead from being so worked up. “It was so difficult to be inexplicably in love with you and watch for you to have other suitors.” He continued, drawing a breath, “I was drawn to you, as a moth to flame.”

You licked your lips, “Yet, you still harbor fears of leaving me-”

“The responsibility of children and a title you cannot shed unless you remarry.” He interrupted you, thumbs rubbing at your cheeks. He looked at you desperately, desperate for you to understand how he was feeling, but you could not. “Which I have no intention to do.” You retorted to his comment, he is the only man you believe you’ll ever love and nothing will change that.

Anthony nodded, dropping his hands from your face. He remembered how he wasn’t there for his mother, for his family sometimes. “I acknowledge that I was a challenge to deal with for my mother.” He spoke, and you were aware of such things. He had admitted these feats to you during your courtship, during small corners of vulnerability. “I just do not wish for you to face similar struggles alone.” He finished his thought, ultimately refusing to meet your gaze as he found the bookcases to be far more interesting.

You shook your head, “She did not endure it alone.” You stated matter-of-factly. Anthony looked up, eyes blinking in confusion, “What?” He asked you, so you continued. “Your mother, she had you, she had Benedict, Colin, Daphne. All of her children were her solace and support.” You expressed to him, reminding him of all of his siblings. They all had each other, they were all her shoulder to cry on just as she was theirs.

Anthony sighed for the thousandth time within that conversation, “We were not easy children.” He told you. Eloise didn’t wish to marry, he had been such a terrible man of the house in the beginning, Benedict did not wish for the responsibility, Colin rushed into things too quickly, Daphne had so much going on when she was named the diamond of the season, his younger siblings couldn’t even fathom the world they were in.

“No child ever is.” You told him simply, holding his hand gently. This time, he did not pull away.

You smiled at him, kissing his cheek gently and pulling back to look him into his eyes. “Now,” You started, letting out the puff of air that was compressing your chest the entire conversation. “I’d prefer if we do not speak the subject of your demise as if it were to greet us at dawn.” You told him, the comment causing him to chuckle a bit, holding your hand a little tighter. “You will come down for dinner and we will enjoy a meal together.” You told him and he nodded, “I will be down in a moment, I shall see the papers are put away first.” He spoke, looking around to all the papers scattered on his desk and some even on the floor.

You left him to the papers and asked your maid to get dinner started, the woman asking if there were any preferences you wanted. The door had closed and Anthony was soon left alone.

Once the door had closed Anthony had begun to gasp for breath, unbuttoning the top of his shirt for air. His chest began to have as he leaned against the door, tears filling his eyes. He furiously wiped at them, trying so hard to push them back but he couldn’t stop them when a choked sob left his lips. His hands were shaking when they reached his face to wipe at his eyes hurriedly. The topic of conversation was difficult, you were so sure that the two of you would grow old together with your children, that you would not have to worry about being a widow, but Anthony was not so sure.

Everyday he saw a little bit of his father in himself and it terrified him. Such a good man was taken from the world by something as simple as a bee and it scared Anthony of everything around him. Sure, before he was not scared of death, even going as far as to call for a duel where he was prepared to die for his sister's honor. But now, he had you, and he did not wish to leave you.

Anthony shakily clasped his hands in a prayer, praying for all the time in the world to be with you. Praying for more time than his father had, praying for a chance. He muttered small prayers, “Please, I just wish to be with her, I will never ask for anything else.” He cried out quietly, eyes closed, tears pouring from his eyes. “I just want time, time with her, please.” He begged quietly, his prayers in reflection to how lonely he saw his mother was. She had so many children but he knew that his mother wished for his father to be there to help her everyday.

A knock had sounded at the door, the noise caused Anthony to stand quickly and rush to the other side of the room with documents, back to the door. He cleared his throat, sniffling one last time, “Enter.” He spoke, the door opening.

“Lord Bridgerton, dinner is served.” A footman had announced, standing in the doorway.

Anthony put the documents away, wiping his tears without the man noticing. “I shall be there in just a moment's time.” He told the man, putting some documents into the drawers. The man nodded and closed the door, going to inform you of the comment.

The door closed once more and Anthony felt his legs were so weak that he had almost collapsed into the furniture. One of his hands gripped the edge of the drawer, the other clawing at his chest. He felt as if every time he took a breath his chest would tighten, he felt nauseous, dizzy. The room was spinning and his vision was blurry from his tears. It almost seemed as if he were dying, but he was not, everything felt like so much but nothing was happening.

It all felt like too much.

He tried to take a few more deep breaths, the pain ceasing and his vision returning back to normal. He slowly exhaled, blinking and wiping his tears. He clenched his jaw as he stood up straight, muttering some words of ‘man of the house’, ‘loving husband’, ‘time’. He couldn't connect the words even if he tried, all he knew was that he was going to dinner.

All he knew was that his father's words rang in his head, but he kept shaking them from his mind. “You cannot show someone your best without allowing them to see your worst.” If only his father had told him how difficult it was to show someone your worst. How frightening it was to show true vulnerability, to find the words to explain feelings you don’t even understand fully yourself.

#anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #angst #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton fic

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stormhearty · 3 months

Text

Pairings: Former Azriel x Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Triggers: nightmares, mentions of blood, death, depression

Summary: It has been several years since your death and your tenth death anniversary is coming up once more. It had, and always will be, a difficult time for the Inner Circle — the regret and remorse evident in the River House. Even though it had been a decade, the evidence of the loss of your light still echoed heavily throughout Pyrthian. Here are how the Inner Circle copes and mourns during the death anniversary.

Note: From this request! Thank you for sending this request and for loving Pushed to the Edge! I do hope this is a bit of extra angst for the ending. It's mostly in Azriel and a bit of Rhysand's POV. We all know that Feyre mourns often the reader's death (since she goes to Day Court during the burial), so I thought it would be good just to mostly focus on Azriel's and a bit of Rhysand's. Also, the meanings of the flowers I placed in the description for Helion’s ceremony for the reader’s death:

Calla - beauty Cattail - peace White Heather - protection Purple Hyacinths - sorrow Ivy - affection White Poppies - Consolation, eternal sleep Tea and dark crimson roses - Mourning and I’ll always remember Sweetpea & Cyclamen - Goodbye, departure Amaryllis - Pride Pink Carnations - I’ll never forget you Iris - Your friendship means so much to me

I hope you all enjoy!

<Pushed to the Edge> Masterlist

His hands shook as they dripped in blood, warm and sticky. Hazel hues followed the trail of blood to a familiar body.

A cry of grief escaped his lips as he crawled over to your body, Truth-Teller piercing through your chest. Your body was unmoving from its prone position. Azriel gently cradled your body in his arms, tears blurring his vision as he looked at your features — one that was etched with so much pain that his heart ached at the sight of it.

“I’m so sorry, my love… I… I’m sorry that I abandoned you, I’m sorry for my infidelity towards you… I’m sorry that I killed you. I’m just… so sorry…” He was sorry for many things. There were too many things he could apologize for but none of them he could whisper to you to bring you back to him. He would have to pay for his transgressions for the rest of his immortal life — the Gods would never give him another chance with her; the Gods would never gift him with another mate as amazing as her.

He was about to press another kiss against your forehead only to watch shadows, his shadows, rise from the ground and slowly start to wrap around your body.

Azriel growled at them, “Leave us alone, leave her with me.. that's all I ask. Don't you fucking dare take her…!”

They didn't listen to him as tendrils of darkness fully wrapped your body before taking your body in whips of shadow. He tried to grab your body before it disappeared but failed.

“No…!!!”

Azriel woke up with a start, chest heaving as he painted, his hand stretched out as if to grab something — your body — from the shadows. His body wracked with a strong shiver, before he slumped against the headboard, a groan escaping his chest as he ran his hand over his face.

Another nightmare.

Every night, for the last decade, he would dream of you — in all different scenarios — ones he would have you in his arms, in bed, sweet and gentle moments; others ( and most of the time ) it was your death, feeling the echo of the mating bond resonate in his chest, watching your body die in his arms, or even watching himself stab you through your heart.

Ever since that fateful day, he has not gotten a decent night’s sleep. Dark circles stained underneath his hazel eyes and those hazel eyes, that used to shine for you, have dullened. Very little things had made him brighten up nowadays — probably the only thing was the birth of his nephew, Nyx. And Nyx has been the only thing that has kept him surviving all these years — along with living with the guilt and pain of your death.

Azriel let out a muffled sob, pressing a hand against his lips as he allowed the nightmare to pass wracks of shivers through his body. Hazel hues shifting from his sweat-stained bed to the large floor-to-ceiling windows, the glow of the full moon beaming down into his room.

He knew he wasn't going to get another wink of sleep tonight. Slipping out of bed, bare feet pressing against the cool wooden floors, he slipped on a simple black tee and sweatpants before stepping out of his room, and down the spiral staircase to the massive garden of the River House.

Azriel usually avoided the gardens, knowing that Elain would be there tending to them.

Their relationship was non-existent at this point. After your death, he cut off all contact and interactions with her, feeling disgusted with himself with even just the sight of her.

For the first couple of months, Elain tried to rebuild her relationship with the Inner Circle; however, after her lies were exposed, it had been a tough road. Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel had ignored her, to the point that Rhysand had ordered Elain to live in the old Townhouse to give comfort to the rest of the family. She would only come to the River House when Feyre would ask her to help tend the gardens. Otherwise, even the Archeron sisters had little contact with the middle sister.

Azriel’s feet led him to a familiar part of the gardens, the only place he would go to that would calm the echo of the empty mating bond in his chest.

After your burial, Feyre sent the image of the statue that Helion had created in your making to the Inner Circle. And in honor of you, Rhysand made one as well — a statue of you, but in Night Court fashion — the opposite of your image in Day Court. Wearing a dark blue dress, one covered with stars, with a moon circlet on your head.

Azriel basked in the statue’s liking to you, seeing the moon’s light radiate behind the statue like a halo made him smile — just a tiny bit. He shifted, sitting down on the bench that was in front of the statue. He leaned forward, pressing his elbows onto his thighs.

“…Hi my love…” he whispered as he looked up at the statue, “Another nightmare… brings me to you.”

A sigh escaped his lips as he felt tears prick the edge of his eyes, and he blinked to fight them away. He has fought so many tears every night, that Azriel felt like his whole body had dried up with how many tears he had shed since your death. He knows he shouldn’t complain, that his grief was evidence that he deserved all the things he had done to you. We all will continue to live with our betrayal. Live and regret, as Rhysand and Cassian told him that day.

Staring back up at the statue, his eyes glanced up at the twinkling stars above Valeris and muttered the singular wish, a wish he had wished for every year, “I hope that at Starfall I will see your light twinkling in the skies above, where you will streak across that beautiful night sky, finding your peace…”

After sitting in front of that statue for several hours, he decided to fly up to the House of Wind to the training balcony and train there. He forgone his black shirt and focused on his training, using every ounce of pain and grieving to train. He stayed up there, time passing quickly until he felt the claws of his brother scrape down his mental shields. Azriel sighed and looked up at the bright blue sky, not even noticing how the day had become midday, the hot sun beating down against his sweaty skin.

“…Azriel…” a light, airy voice called his name.

He let out an animalistic growl before he grabbed his shirt from the chair he had flung it onto, slipping it on his form before spreading his wings to fly. He heard the quickened steps, seeing Elain in his peripherals, the middle Archeron’s sister’s eyes begging at him to look at her.

“…Stay away from me, Elain… I swear to the Gods, if you try to look for me again, I’ll have my High Lord and High Lady dump you on the borders of the human realm to leave you to their discretion…”

Elain frowned at him, stepping into his view, “You cannot put all the blame on me. I have tried to win you and my family’s graces back… I don’t know what I can do to get on your good graces again…”

Azriel glared at the Made-Fae, “… No, I cannot put all the blame on you, I blame mostly myself on falling for you. I never realized why I had after being mated to (Y/N) for nearly fifty years… I could have had my forever with her… And yet, my blind infatuation with you cost us that. I don’t want to do anything with you, as my way to repent… my way to live and regret for the rest of my immortal life without her…”

With one last glare, and without letting the Made-Fae say anything else, Azriel shot off into the mid-day sky, waving through the cool air of Valeris and back to the River House. He landed on the balcony and entered, walking into the large dining room where his family was situated. He noticed the solemn air that coated the room as he sat down in his usual spot, next to Mor and across from Cassian. Hazel eyes wandered the table and noticed the absence of his High Lady.

Rhysand noticed the look from his Spymaster and answered the unasked question, “Feyre went to Day Court this morning…”

That was all it took for realization to hit Azriel — it was your tenth death anniversary this week. A shaky sigh escaped his lips as he leaned back against his chair — ten years without your light. No wonder he felt horrible that day, no wonder why his nightmares seemed to be worse than ever before.

It was as if his subconscious knew.

Azriel knew that after this breakfast, he would be able to crawl back into bed and cry there — he didn’t have to do anything for the rest of that week. He would be able to wallow in his depression in the comfort of his room.

Rhysand, after the first year of your death, had declared that week a period of silence — a mourning period that allowed Valeris and most of Night Court to grieve over your death. To repent and live. It was a week where he didn’t send anyone on missions, and stores throughout Valeris were closed over the week.

The Inner Circle ate in silence, the clattering of silverware was the only thing that echoed in the grand space. No one said a word, though Azriel could feel the shifting gazes towards his way. His fingers gripped the silverware in his hands, feeling the metal bend in his strength. A frown tugged on his features, suddenly losing his appetite. He placed the utensils down, the evidence of his slight anger on the bent pieces of metal, before standing up.

He could see Mor, in his peripheral shift slightly. Azriel huffed slightly, unaware of the looming energy he was radiating until he felt a tap against his mental shields. Hazel eyes looked over to his High Lord who had given him a raised brow.

“Reign in your anger, brother… We are just worried, as usual,” Rhysand had whispered into his head.

They know how hard it has been for him over the past decade. The Inner Circle had been present through every nightmare, every depressive episode, every self-loathing that Azriel had gone through — and is still going through to this day. All of them had tried to help him lessen the burden of regret; however, they knew that the Spymaster would never let anyone shoulder his pain — not when he was the cause of it.

Azriel felt his tears line his reddened eyes, “…I know, and I thank you for that, brother… May I just grieve on my own… May I be excused?”

Hazel and violet eyes stared at each other for a moment before Rhysand nodded his head, “I will tap on your shields again when Feyre is at the ceremony…”

His head nodded before the Spymaster stalked out of the dining room, feeling all eyes on him. He climbed up those spiral staircases again before entering his bedroom with a slam of his door. A shiver wracked through his body, eyes shutting close as he tried to prevent another breakdown. He shuffled his feet, towards the bed and lay there.

He will never be okay — no matter how many decades, how many centuries have passed, he will always feel that emptiness of the bond in his chest. He would never feel you tug on that golden string that connected the two of you, nor he won’t hear your laugh whenever Cassian or Mor would tell you a joke. He won’t feel your fingers trace along his scars or place ointment on his hands whenever they were cramped and strained after a mission.

There were days — which were the worse of them — when he would hallucinate you were still alive. In that very bedroom, he would feel, smell, and see your very figure walking through that room. He could see your light, he could hear your voice… but whenever he would reach out to try to hold you, touch you, you would be gone in a whisp of light.

Azriel hated those days. He would find himself in a heap on the ground, crying. His brothers or even Mor would find him in that state at the end of the day and would plead for him to go to bed and rest. And with their help, he would lay in that large bed, bigger than his wings would span out to, to just stare at the expanses of that ceiling. Rest would never come to him easily anymore, not without a tonic from Madja or if Rhysand would slip into his mind and coax him to sleep.

He would continue to live on as an empty shell — one that would continue life without feeling your light.

Rhysand let out a shaky breath after Azriel had left the dining room, a hand running through his dark locks as he slumped against his chair.

It had been difficult, the last decade was like walking on broken glass around Azriel. The High Lord knew that his brother was suffering, but Rhysand also knew it was the consequences of his actions — of all of their actions against (Y/N). All of them, especially himself and Azriel, would continue to suffer for it.

Rhysand was thankful to the Mother that Feyre had been there throughout the past decade to help shoulder the pain, to shoulder the regret. And he had tried to do the same with Azriel; however, the former Shadowsinger wouldn’t let anyone touch him, wouldn’t let anyone help him through his emotions. And he watched as Azriel broke himself apart because of his pain. The High Lord watched every single day, every year, for the past decade, his brother becoming a shell. Even when he had sent Azriel on missions, the Fae would come back, finishing his assignment quickly and swiftly, though Rhysand could see blood and bruises that contrasted against leather.

Every time, every single time, Azriel had returned from those missions, Rhysand had seen the increased amount of wounds against immortal skin. And when confronted, Azriel had whispered in truth, “It’s the only time I feel pain… To feel the echo of the pain against my skin… Any other time, I can’t feel anything…”

That had broken the High Lord.

He had banned, much to his dismay and Azriel’s anger, the former Spymaster to go on said missions. He had changed Azriel’s title, and became an emissary, along with Mor to the Continent. Azriel hated him — and probably still hated him to this day. But it was the only way to keep his brother from hurting himself, from being hurt, and to keep his family together — as much as possible.

The High Lord stood up from his chair, giving a small smile to his family as he left the dining room and walked his way to his office, allowing the silence to seep into his body. Rhysand busied himself with work, the only thing that would occupy his time and mind during the week of mourning. If he didn’t, he would, like his brother, be stuck in his mind — in his nightmares — of failing you as your High Lord.

He felt a tap of his mental shields, his mate scraping and sending down a wave of love towards his end.

"Are you okay?” Feyre asked him and Rhysand leaned against his chair and allowed his mate to send visions of her time at Day Court.

“I think so… Just, trying to keep myself occupied you know. How is it at Day? How is Helion?”

“He’s probably the same as you and Azriel.. all of us, mourning. But he’s keeping up appearances, he is ensuring this year’s ceremony will be grand. It is her tenth year being gone from this world…”

Rhysand wouldn’t hold it against Helion if this ceremony would be a grand, beautiful one to celebrate your life… to mourn for your death. You had, after all, deserved it. You had risked your life, your light, to protect all of Prythian… you had to be celebrated one way or another.

He watched the vision of the grand Day Court halls, lined with Calla, Cattail, White Heather, Purple Hyacinths, Ivy, White Poppies, and Tea and dark crimson roses — all flowers that echoed the sentiments of all of Prythian. It was a gorgeous sight, one that Rhysand wished to see in person. Tears pricked his eyes as he wiped them away with a finger, as he felt another wave of support from his mate.

"Be safe, darling Feyre… If you need me to take Nyx, do just call me… I can take him from your hands…"

A small laugh echoed, and in his head he could see the image of Nyx standing next to his mother, looking up at the golden statue of you.

"I think he deserves to know who she is, Rhys… He will be fine…"

With one last tug on that bond, Rhysand closed the connection between the two of them.

A book, he had thought, a book would be good to immortalize your story. With ink and paper, he started to write… determined to ensure your story would be known for centuries to come.

A tap against his shields started Azriel from his stupor. He straightened in the armchair he had occupied in his bedroom, eyes darting to the window to see what time of day it was. He hadn’t slept for the past few days, his nightmares plaguing him even while awake. He would mindlessly walk around that room, keeping himself occupied to keep the nightmares at bay. He didn’t sleep, he hadn’t showered — he wallowed in his sadness.

And so when that scrape of darkness against his mind startled him out of his sadness, he lowered it slightly to allow his High Lord to send him the vision that his High Lady was sending him.

Tears pricked at the edge of his eyes as he saw that magnificent statue of you at your grave.

Oh, how he wished and begged for the Mother to allow him, even for a brief moment, to bask in that golden statue — to feel Day Court’s sun mimic the warmth that you had always radiated.

He watched from that armchair the ceremony, hearing Helion speak so fondly of you. Azriel could hear the High Lord’s voice crack and break at every mention of your name. He could see the pain in his features as he talked about how it had been ten years since your death. He watched as Helion looked at that statue with so much fondness — a father, mourning the loss of his child.

The ceremony lasted a couple of hours, allowing people to walk up to the statue to place all types of flowers on top of that gravesite. He watched as the familiar hands of his High lady held up a bouquet — a mixture of Sweetpea, Amaryllis, Pink Carnations, Cyclamen, and Iris — to the statue before placing it down on the grave as well.

He heard her whisper words of fondness, love, and regret before stepping away and back to her spot in the crowd.

The last thing he heard, was from his nephew, who whispered to his mother, “I wish to have known her… She is well loved, even after she has died…”

That had choked not only Azriel up, but he could feel the pain in Feyre’s voice as she looked down at the boy who was merely ten years into his immortal life.

“…I wish you could have known her as well, Nyx… She was a light in everyone’s life. She had made your uncle’s life the best it had been when she was still with us. We wish we could have done so much better to her…”

Azriel watched as Feyre caressed the black locks of his nephew before the vision passed. And all Azriel could do was cry — cry his love, his sorrow, his regret.

#acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fic #acotar angst #azriel x reader #azriel angst #( .inbox request : death anniversary )#( .one shot : pushed to the edge )

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tsunael · 1 month

Text

If there's anyone out there that cares about flower language and symbolism like I do, I made an informal write-up some time ago about the in-game flowers (that you can put in your house) and the different symbolism that they can mean.

I included the symbolism for the in-game colors as well when they were available.

Also as a disclaimer these could be incorrect, have contrasting meanings, or have different meanings in different real-world cultures. White chrysanthemums (kiku) are usually a funeral flower in Japan for instance. (My Japanese professor once said they were a faux pas for her to receive in a bouquet!) So your mileage may vary!

This was simply a fun personal project I made for myself that I thought other people might enjoy as well! So here's a question to answer in the tags:

What flowers would your WoL have in their residence?

Arums (calla lily) 🔷magnificent beauty, feminine modesty

Brightlilies (easter lily) 🔷purity, refined beauty 🔷White: virginity, purity, majesty 🔷Pink: wealth and prosperity 🔷Red: warmth, desire 🔷Yellow: gaiety, falsehood, "I’m walking on air" 🔷Orange: hatred

Campanulas (bellflower) 🔷humility, constancy

Chrysanthemum 🔷cheerfulness, "You’re a wonderful friend" 🔷Red: I love you 🔷White: truth 🔷Yellow: slighted love

Cosmos 🔷harmony, peace, modesty, "the joys that love and life can bring", beautiful

Dahlias 🔷dignity, elegance

Daisies 🔷innocence, beauty

Lilies of the Valley 🔷return of happiness, sweetness, humility, purity

Oldrose 🔷Red: I love you, love, beauty, passion, romance 🔷Blue: mystery, attaining the impossible, love at first sight 🔷White: innocence and purity, "I am worthy of you", reverence 🔷Yellow: decrease of love, jealousy, friendship

Shroud Cherries (cherry blossom) 🔷spiritual beauty, a good education

Tulips 🔷perfect lover, fame 🔷Red: declaration of love, true love, eternal love, romantic love, "believe me" 🔷Yellow: hopeless love, unrequited love, brightness, sunshine 🔷White: ask for forgiveness, purity 🔷Purple: royalty

Hyacinths 🔷sports, games, rashness 🔷Purple: I am sorry, sorrow, "please forgive me" 🔷Red: play 🔷White: loveliness, "I’ll pray for you" 🔷Blue: constancy, sincerity 🔷Yellow: jealousy

Hydrangeas 🔷heartlessness, boastfulness, "You are cold"

Morning Glories 🔷love in vain, affection

Violas (violets) 🔷modesty, faithfulness 🔷Purple: daydreaming, "You occupy my thoughts" 🔷Blue: watchfulness, love 🔷White: candor, innocence 🔷Yellow: rural happiness

Byregotia (begonia?) 🔷Beware

Carnation 🔷fascination, love, distinction 🔷Red: "My heart aches for you", deep love, admiration 🔷White: sweet and lovely, innocence, pure love 🔷Yellow: "You have disappointed me", rejection, disdain 🔷Purple: capriciousness, changeable

Moth Orchid 🔷love, beauty, refinement, beautiful lady

Sweet Pea 🔷departure, good-bye, delicate pleasure, tender memory, blissful pleasure

Triteleia 🔷 They're a North American wildflower also called 'triplet lilies' or 'Ithuriel's spear' which is a reference to John Milton's epic English poem, Paradise Lost. It's about an angel sent by Gabriel to find Satan in the Garden of Eden. Satan, in the form of a toad, is introducing evil suggestions into the ear of Eve when Ithuriel pokes him with a spear. Satan then returns to his true form, "for no falsehood can endure Touch of Celestial temper, but returns Of force to its own likeness." It is to an unknown but imaginative scholar of English letters that we owe the common name of this plant.

Long story short, I can't find any symbolism for this one. Would make a possibly good Halone/Ishgard reference if you wanted to read into it, though!

#queue time #mine #ffxiv #tsuna has white brightlillies white daisies and red carnations in her house 🥺#with some white chrysanthemum and shroud cherries growing #and a yellow oldrose bouquet...#I should update them tbh

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saradika · 7 months

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Masterlist Headers + Matching Divider Sets

edit: as of 11/20/23 this will no longer be updated - please go to @saradika-graphics for requests & new resources!

FANDOMS

Star Wars

— Andor (The Eye)

— Dark Blue (& R2D2)

— Din Djarin

— Din Djarin & Boba-themed (Star Wars)

— Endor (Forest)

— Pastel Colors

— Pink/Mauve (Star Wars)

— Poe Dameron

— Red & Orange-themed

Marvel/DC

— The Batman

— Blue Beetle

— Bucky Barnes

— Marvel Inspired

— Loki Inspired

— Miguel O’Hara

Games/Series

— Astarion (BG3)

— Call Of Duty

— House of the Dragon

— The Last Of Us

AESTHETICS

— Ace (Moon/Stars)

— Alchemy

— Bi-Pride Colors

— Blush Romantic

— Burgundy & Gold

— Constellations (Blue/Green)

— Cottagecore / Dark Academia

— Forest-themed

— Golden-themed

— Halloween

— Hyacinth

— Maroon/Purple Witch

— Misty Forests

— Orange-themed

— Seasonal Aesthetic

— Skulls & Lace / Skeletons

— Taupe and Teal

— Yellow-themed

✨(Everything was made in and using Canva - so definitely check that app out if you’re looking to make your own! Here, here, here and here are some tips on using the app / making graphics if you haven’t before!) (and credit is not required but a reblog would be great if you use! 💕) ✨

#pulled from canva colored/arranged by me #dividers #fic dividers #graphics #masterlist headers #tumblr dividers #headers

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toruro · 9 months

Text

— ✧ 00:00

an alternate ending to isohel

pairing. hong joshua x reader

description. your time with each other is up, but still, you learn to live.

genre. angst

w/c. 850+

a/n. have been feeling out of practice and decided 2 share an alternate ending for isohel 4 some fun ^^ not sure how much sense this will make if u haven't already read isohel since this takes place after the major events of the story, so i highly recommend reading that first!

One year since he's heard your voice yet Joshua still hears you in the walls of the castle. When he opens the door to his study, your soft footsteps and quiet breaths melt into the background.

It calms him down more often than not, but sometimes it makes him cry. He dreams that you'll wipe his tears just as you did hundreds of nights before, but Joshua knows in his bones that he'll just have to pick himself up this time.

Some nights you cry too. You hold that silk ribbon to your nose and you imagine that Joshua is right there, right in the palm of your hand. You know he’s not, and you know he never will be—not again.

...

Three years since you’ve looked Joshua in the eye and finally, you’re graduating. A grand occasion for the kingdom given Hong University is meant for the finest of students; Joshua is sent to give a speech to the graduating class.

He stands on the same stage that you walked down a mere hour ago, looking down upon the rows of students. You sit among them, wondering if he can see you.

Joshua wonders too. Amidst the identical caps and gowns, he searches for your face, your eyes, your smile.

When he finds you, it feels like time itself freezes.

There’s a tug at his heart when your eyes finally meet. A wind brushes over him and Joshua imagines that it is the ghost of your lips on his skin instead.

Your heart aches too, but then there’s a revel of cheers and everyone is throwing their caps into the air and of course, you do the same.

Joshua loses your smile in the scene, and for a moment he wants to sob. He wants to let his knees buckle and fall to the ground, heaving in heavy breaths as thick tears pool in his lash line.

He looks up into the sky, and it’s painted with purple caps, and through the dots peaks the light of the sun.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Joshua knows that you’re looking at the same sun, and the thought makes him smile.

...

Five years since you’ve spoken to each other and Joshua’s chest no longer aches. He’s King now, if that ever meant anything to him in the first place, but as he works through the title, he realizes that things aren’t too bad.

Some days Joshua walks through Sol Invictus. He glances over Helios’ pegasi, and for a gracing moment, he thinks you would have loved them.

Joshua misses you like one misses the sun on a cloudy day. You're always there, always hidden behind something, but he knows. He knows you're always there.

You own a plant shop now, and you love it.

Some days you simply walk through the rows of greenery and color, breathing in the crisp air of dawn and dew. You look at the hyacinth that sits on your little head table, the silk ribbon that was gifted to you years ago tied around the pot, and you smile.

Smiling is easier now.

...

Ten years since you’ve set foot in the castle and some days you think of each other, some days you don't, but no matter what, you don’t forget. You two can’t ever forget.

You hear Joshua’s laugh. Not often, but sometimes you can catch hold of the beautiful sound when you walk to work some mornings. It makes your heart swell.

Joshua still hears you. He hears your voice in Sol Invictus on those cool mornings when he walks past the rows of hyacinths. The breeze whistles through the petals and stems, and he hears you amidst the sound. It’s comforting now.

...

Fifteen years and you’re married now. Jeonghan loves you, and you love him. He helps run your shop and take care of the hyacinths in the home you share.

You live in a small house in the middle of the city, no longer teetering at the edge of the kingdom like you once did. You've got a garden in the back and pretty flowers and shrubbery that decorate the front, and sitting in the center of the yard is a little pond Jeonghan helped you dig up yourself.

Of course, it isn't as grand as the one in Sol Invictus but still, you think Joshua would love to know that Eridenus has a twin.

Joshua too has a Queen of his own; she’s kind and smart and all things fitting for a woman. She makes him smile and for Joshua, that is more than enough.

Of course he thinks of you. How could he not when your scent still lingers in the paths of Sol Invictus? Still, it’s different now. A good different.

...

Twenty years and all is well. When you look up at the sun, you both know the other is doing just the same.

...

i miss the way you almost held the tide but still, it's nice dreaming that you're somewhere feeling the same heat that i did no fear, no fall if invisible lines lead your way back to me still, i got nothing

(isohel / eden)

✘ taglist. @xenkimmie @lesdevoeux @cheolism @namjoonbaby @listxn @scuzmunkie @ressonancee @binwons @lskjki @h34rts4chira @kazuhateez @imlilstitious @yogurttea @lynnxworld @jeanjacketjesus @meowmeowminnie @soonhoonietrash @caratlove10 @synthetickitsune @ixayjun @leejihoonownsmyheart @dahliatopia @gyuswhore @hoeforcheol @5xiang @hajimelvr @miriamxsworld @blinkjunhui @lixiel0ver @josefines-things @mimisxs @kawennote09 @bbyjjunie @rubyreduji @todorokiskitten @98-0603 @hipsdofangirl @minnie-mouser22 @minhui896 @whippedforjihoon @nishloves @woozarts @ellesmoon @blurryriki @maknae00 @jjjzzzz @peachyaeger @shoulietaro @karina-sakuras @1004luvangel @dollyhaes @gyulune @yunritos (strikethrough could not be tagged)

#joshua x reader #seventeen joshua #joshua seventeen #joshua hong #joshua hong x reader #joshua hong angst #svt x reader #svt angst #📝 writing

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acerathia · 4 months

Text

pink camellias || Chapter 1: hyacinth

Chapter Summary:

purple hyacinth: sorrow

Wordcount: 3.2k

Read on AO3 || Masterlist

Pairing:

Bakugou Katsuki / Reader

Tags/CW:

royalty au, inspired by Mulan, war and its consequences, violence, childhood friends to strangers to companions to lovers (i am sorry), Angst, Acts of Service, Character Death (Major, and Minor), swordfights, misogyny, f!reader, kidnapping, implied torture, let me know if I missed anything lol

Note:

I got too impatient, so, I'm posting the first chapter today lol, still, i hope you enjoy reading it!

You opened the windows as soon as you woke up. As the soft sunlight warmed your skin, you watched the breeze rustle the flowers of the garden. Beyond that garden was a beautifully constructed posh house, barely blocking your view to the adjacent village. The rows of different houses gave the scenery a special kind of feel. The view was breathtaking, the bustling of all these people making you feel alive under your skin.

You stood by the window, trying to discern the lives of the common people below you in the valley. There was a small stripe of forest bordering the village and the mansion, which stood atop a hill.

“I wonder how life is down there”, you mumbled before looking back to your bed.

The softest of fabric was spread over the king-sized bed and you slowly stepped closer, your hand enjoying the feel of silk between your fingers. Then with a tiny jump you threw yourself onto the mattress, sinking deeply in its comfort and warmth.

With a sigh, you tried to imagine living in such a village. Maybe you would operate a bakery, making tasty bread and confects. You would wake up early, which you usually would never even think about, but this was only imaginary. If you were lucky, you could watch the sunrise for some time, while waiting for the dough to rise. Your hands would be kneading and caressing the dough into different, but nonetheless tasty goodies for the day, the lit oven warming your back with a gentle sigh. It would hug the soft dough and prepare it for the day.

After the bread and sweets would be ready, you would open up the shop, awaiting the first jingle of the door. You would, as usual, greet the oncoming customers, the ones you saw regularly with some deep questions, and the newer ones with some welcoming small talk. Your heart would beat in happiness every time something of yours would find its home somewhere else. And if everything got sold, you would close the shop and head to the market to replenish some of your necessities. If not, you would go around and give the bread to someone who would need it at the moment, not wanting to let anyone go hungry.

You imagined such a routine to be relaxing and enjoyable, especially connecting with so many people. The wish to go out and change something for yourself lit a spark, even if the possibility of leaving this place without guard would never happen.

Some day you would wake up with the hope of appearing in another place, like the characters in your stories. Landing inside a novel with the knowledge of every scenario, being actively a part of some grand scheme or an adventure. But no matter how long you kept your eyes closed, you stayed in your little bland life.

Sometimes you would dare to write down some ideas, with your scrawly font. And while doing so you blamed yourself for not listening to your teacher when learning how to write. But you wrote. You wrote every little idea that emerged in your little head. Huffing and puffing when the intricate dreams vanished after waking up.

With a low grumble, you stared at your ceiling. You grew weary of only imagining things and felt the urge, the desire to actually live your own adventure.

“My Lady, I’ve brought water to wash up”, the voice of your maid Hana sounded before she entered the room.

You furrowed your brows, wondering how long you had been lying there, and if you would succeed in sneaking out, if your maid wouldn’t be so punctual. But you only greeted her and rolled from the bed to walk towards a stool.

While you were washing your face, Hana brushed your hair gently and got rid of all the knots taking residence on top of your head. You looked into the mirror, feeling the soft towel on your skin.

This was your face, even if you wished you were another person. No matter what you think, the baby fat on your face would not dwindle until much later. For a moment you wondered how soon your birthday was.

“You should go to the dining room to eat some breakfast, my Lady.”, Hana told you, after helping you into a simple baby blue wrapper. Something simple for your indoor endeavors, as you did not plan on leaving this mansion any time soon.

With a nod you made your way to the dining room, greeting your father, who was leaning over some papers spread over the table.

“Good morning sweetie, did you sleep well?”, he asked while stretching his arms for a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“Yes, thank you for asking, Father.”, you smiled with a slight crook, before turning to greet your mother the same way.

After the greetings, you took a seat and started eating your breakfast.

Despite the current silence at the table you were quite attached to your parents, as they were to you. They both were loving and warm and so doting on their only daughter. And who were you to resist getting spoiled like that? You would do anything for your parents, and even if you longed to go outside and experience new things, you were aware how your disappearance would break their hearts, and yours.

“Ah, we’re supposed to return to the palace today, did you prepare your luggage, or did you forget again?”, your mother started speaking with an amused smile after finishing the meal.

“Mother! Of course, I prepared everything! But, I’m still going to ensure that everything has its place.”, you hurriedly responded and jumped from your seat. Soft chuckle followed you out of the room.

How could you forget the return to the palace? Your father was the marquess and your mother attended to the queen herself. And despite your current young age, you wanted to make a good impression on the people living there, even if they may have already formed one around your person. But nothing speaks against working to better those impressions.

With the help of your maid, you threw everything you may need in that visit into a tiny case, fitting for your tiny stuff. And when Hana suggested you take your stuffed cat with you, you vehemently refused. Because what if someone saw it and thought of you as inferior? Especially little kids your age, they were usually the most vicious and you refused to be the victim of their bullying.

After making sure everything was in order, you let your maid help you into some outdoor gown with the same blue color as the other one. With a fitting pair of gloves and a bonnet, you were ready to leave your home for your stay at the palace.

Clutching Hana’s hand you made your way outside to the awaiting carriage. The coachman already heaving their luggage into its respective space. But you didn’t need his help to get into the carriage, not even Hana’s help. You grabbed some of the fabric of your dress and took the large step with one stride. The next step let you tumble into the insides of the carriage, where you immediately acted like everything went as planned.

Hana took the seat in front of you and the car slowly left the property. You knew that your parents were in the carriage in front of yours, so you did not fret and simply enjoyed the passing sights of the marquisate.

After a couple of minutes, someone slightly shook you and you blearily opened your eyes. You didn’t remember closing them in the first place. Did you already arrive at your destination? That was weird, you thought the way would take some hours. But beggars shouldn’t be choosers and you didn’t mind that very convenient time skip of sleep. Even if you now felt tired and grumpy.

With half-closed lids you let Hana lead you to the inside of the palace, where you already occupy a room. This wasn’t the first time your character visited the palace, but every time felt like it was. And no matter how much you wanted to look around, you felt drained and wanted nothing more than to continue your nap in peace.

The moment you stepped into the room, you threw yourself onto the bed, without care of your bonnet falling off your head. But for some reason you could not fall asleep again, making you whine into the soft pillows, before sitting up.

And before you could even plan anything for the afternoon, someone started knocking on your door.

“Hello! We were wondering if you wanted to play knights with us?”, a boy your age with bright green eyes, Izuchan, asked you with a smile, the moment you opened the door. Another was lingering with crossed arms and a slight scowl.

You turned to look at Hana, who just nodded with a sigh before you also nodded to the boys in front of you. “Yes! I’d love to participate in a game!”

With that, you followed them outside, where the sun shone upon your heads and warmed you slightly.

They immediately started clashing their wooden swords and began screaming something about ‘villains’ and ‘crime’. You wondered when it would be your turn, but you didn’t hold a wooden sword in your hands.

For some reason you felt the need to fix it, so you started wandering to the training camp of the real knights, looking for some kind of sword you might be able to use.

The only thing you discovered were of course actual knights in training. Their movements and the swing of the sword in their hands were mesmerizing and you could not help yourself but stare. Their flow seemed like a hidden dance, its steps only obtained by the truly worthy.

You felt trapped in watching the blades clash, eliciting bursts of tiny stars. A desire to wield this magic grew in you and a grin formed itself across your face. Now you fully understood the reason everyone admired knights. And you desired to be one.

You barely managed to rip your gaze from their dangerous dance only to see the object you were seeking only minutes ago. Without a second thought, you grabbed the wooden sword to return to the fighting boys. Only to see them running towards the training grounds, their gaze focused on something behind you.

And what were you supposed to do but follow them? So you ran with them towards a group of people converging around a massive person.

“Allmight!”, Izuchan gasped and started talking about the best knight in this whole kingdom and you couldn’t do anything but listen with rapt attention and interest.

Kacchan tried to get to the overrun knight, but before he had the possibility of reaching him, Allmight found the right timing to detach himself from the crowd and thus was missed when the boy finally broke through.

The blond started raging, concealing his disappointment in a fit of anger and screams. The other boy tried to calm him down, yelling ‘Kacchan’ to get his attention.

Undeterred by his outburst you gripped the wooden sword tighter in your hand and declared something to him, maybe you hoped to calm him down or to distract him from his missing hero.

“I am going to be a knight! One better than you!”, you declared war on these two young boys, who were supposed to be your friends, but your ambitions seemed to destroy any semblance of kinship.

“Hah? A girl can’t be a knight, are you stupid?”, Kacchan immediately replied, his anger only simmering, but directed at you nonetheless.

“You’re stupid!”

While you could have replied with a better comeback, annoyance made your brain empty, only the desire to show him filling you to the brim.

Without waiting for the next words of this brash boy, you turned and ran towards the toy dummy, which has been abandoned offside the actual training grounds. You didn’t care if your dress stained, the seams filling with mud, as you hit the dummy repeatedly, acting as if you were already a seasoned knight.

The two boys joined you soon after. And while the blond and you could not do anything but push each other into anger, you still played with your wooden swords, even if any of you would have dared to say that it has been a fight for life and death.

And if your maid clicked her tongue and reprimanded you for ruining your dress, you only responded with your dreams and hopes of becoming a knight. Out of necessity, your maid had, soon after that conversation full of sighs and aspirations, sewn you some proper clothing resembling the ones of a knight.

With your pants and shirt, you continued to fight your friends at every possibility, even if it meant getting stained in blue blood underneath your skin and ripped hair between your fingernails.

***

The seasons have passed and you still lived at the palace with your mother. You spent your daily life studying everything this place had to offer and everything your duty obliged you. But the moment you managed to free yourself some time, the people found you in a pair of pants, swinging that old wooden sword with your friends.

Finally, you had finished your reading for the day, getting some free time for your extracurricular activities. But before the teacher could properly dismiss you, your maid knocked and entered the room, a grave expression marring her face.

“Miss, I’m afraid, your mother is at death's door…”, she started speaking, but you jumped from your chair, grabbing the fabric of your dress to allow you to run as fast as you managed.

Your mother, your dear, loving mother, laid there, unmoving in her too-big bed. Her pale frame almost sunk into the soft fabric of the bedding and you were afraid. You were so afraid to step too close and to hurt her.

Still, you carefully sat at the end of the bed, taking her hand in yours, as soft as your rough hands cared to achieve. You only had eyes for her, everyone around you nothing but a blur. Nonetheless, you caught some pieces of information from the people hurrying around you in a senseless frenzy. The white plague. Your mother has been suffering under the act of consumption for longer than any of the people around her anticipated. Her paleness mistaken for lack of sun and worry. Her feverishly red cheeks and lips simply for a mistake in the chosen shade.

You wondered how long she had been plagued by this illness. How long had she been suffering without anyone taking notice? Had she already known prior to this?

Suddenly her lack of presence in your life in the last couple of months started to make sense. She knew you would have noticed her lack of energy immediately. How could you not? Your mother used to be the sun in any dark room. Her presence soothing and warm, even if bright. This woman in front of you was nothing but a pale, sick shadow of her old self. And it hurt you.

It hurt to see the most important person in your life suffer and on the brink of death. Oh, how you would do anything to soothe her aches and take her pains away.

Something cold dripped onto your hands, but you were not able to find the source of those tiny drops. Not until you took a shuddering gasp and a sob broke free, your lungs yearning to scream and cry.

Even if you grew weary and bored of your life, you cared for this woman, it drove you crazy. How were you supposed to move on after this?

People grabbed your sobbing shoulders, but you refused to let go of her frail hand. Someone was whispering empty words into you and you didn’t react with anything but a heartbreaking wail, lowering your head against her hand, pressing her cold skin against your cheeks.

Despite your vehement protest, someone managed to loosen your grip around your dead mother, leading you into your room. After getting pushed onto your own bed, everything became a blur.

You barely noticed getting moved around or getting into a carriage. The only thing you numbly remember was the regret of not telling your friends about your hasty departure. Even if you yourself had not known about it until you arrived back at the mansion you used to live at. You supposed this was your actual home, even if the palace felt more like it.

After your arrival at the mansion, you refused to eat and did not leave your room under any circumstance. At some point, your father's worry grew and he started trying to lure you with different things. Most of them got no reaction from you at all.

“Hello dear. How have you been?”, he asked with a soft voice, taking a seat at the end of the bed. You gave him a tired smile as an answer, your voice itching and scratching.

“Good, good.”, he nodded, taking your hand in his. “I know I have said it multiple times already, but you need to get out a bit… I know, I know. But she would not want you to suffer in such a dark room.” He tried to persuade you, already knowing your answer, even just with your nonverbal facial expressions.

“How about this: You still want to be a knight, don’t you? Well, then we shall get you some proper sword master to teach you. Can’t have you swing a wooden sword without instructions forever.”, and his suggestion made you perk up.

You still wanted to master swordsmanship, but your father had never supported that particular endeavor of yours. Until to this day, it appeared. Even if the circumstances should have been better, your mother should have been there to celebrate that milestone with you. Still, you knew she would have wanted you to run towards your dreams, even if she wasn’t there. You decided to dedicate this work of life to her before you agreed to your father's suggestion with a slight nod and a hesitant smile.

And your agreement seemed to spark some happiness in the eyes of your old man, as his smile gained that special depth. Without further words, because you simply didn’t need to, he pecked your forehead, before standing up. And if he pulled the curtains open and let you bask in the warmth of the estranged sun before he left your room, then so be it. Because this time, the sun didn’t symbolize another day without her, but a new opportunity dedicated to her, in remembrance of her. Starting with that day, you promised yourself to think of her every time you held a sword. Your dear beloved memories with her would lend you whatever strength you would have needed in any possible situation.

Your gaze wanders out of your window, into the beautiful garden. And you were mesmerized by the whipping flowers, almost like it was your first time seeing them. With this breathtaking, familiar view you held your promise close to your heart and planned on never letting go.

#bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou x you

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wastrelwoods · 1 year

Text

meg’s hannibal fic recs

hurrah for accumulating enough hannibal fics to finally organize some into a sexy little numbered list (which is comprised of three subsections. tee hee i am so organized) i am leaving out some better-known and appreciated fandom classic tastemakers just because I tend to assume people have run into those on their own but of course there are some all time faves there too. this is just already so long, holy shit,

🫀 PART THE FIRST : CANONVERSE [heartwrenching character studies, missing scenes, divergences, etc]

coffee cake by bones_2_be | 82k | hannibal leaves alone after digestivo, and will stays in wolf trap. in the middle of a snowstorm, hannibal comes back to visit. a really sweet and complex slow burn that's especially satisfying to reread in inclement weather and always leaves me craving comfort food

tenderdest touch leaves the darkest of marks & the hardest of hearts by det395 | 28k | 2part divergence from season 3b | hannibal and will end up on the wrong side of the door to his BSHCI cell. THE IMAGERY is so unparalleled the twists and turns are so masterful and the integration of silence of the lambs elements in a completely unexpected way is SO fun. PERFECT

Il falò delle vanità by More_night | 17.8k | missing scenes, one per season | will and hannibal get drunk together and skirt the edges of a years-long discussion of love, destruction, and veneration. these snapshots in their increasingly tumultuous relationship and the things that change and the things that don't....ooh wee

purple hyacinth by petrodactyl352 | 3.5k | missing scene in the season 3 timeskip | scenes from will's wedding day, featuring hannibal, alana, and will. SO full of lovely pining and a fun exploration of the interplay between these characters

culinary substitution by anbarelectrum | 8.8k | mid season 3 | will's old family meets his new family. THE choice of POV for both sections lends so much to this fic and it's a great tense little vignette that explores the dynamics at play in a really clever and exciting way while being very fair and evenhanded with all characters involved. and i LOVE the conclusions drawn

trotline by colonel_bastard | 7.7k | missing scene in season 2b | will takes hannibal fishing. just a CRAZY character study. the whole of will graham writ small in a way that boils my blood to think about. (feat. extremely detailed and visceral animal death)

after the silence has returned by fahye | 2k | post-canon | domestic autocannibalism? hannibal preparing meals with will's blood for both of them to share. just very short and sweet and good

the other side of the mirror by nbcravenstag | 7.5k | mizumono | will leaves hannibal's house after their last supper torn between two impossible choices. then will turns the car around.

everyone but me by det395 | 2.7k | listen i get why more people aren't writing fic in this fandom that is wheeze-laugh-until-your-lungs-give-out funny but you know who is doing it well? @will-gayham gets a double rec for this one

the purpose of blood by basingstoke | 5k | lovely and concise post-fall getting-together fic with a very precise and adept hannibal POV. yes there are a wealth of good post-canon fics but this is my favorite! so there!

🫀PART THE SECOND : DAMN GOOD AUs [transformative and matchless in their creativity ]

airlock by murdertrout | 9k | scifi horror romance | the spaceship's AI has been killing off the crew. will is on a mission to stop it. i love the nonlinear structure & the way that exploration of the humanity of an AI works so well with hannibal's whole thing & the exploration of bodies and codependency (&sweet robot lovin)

the back foot by spqr | 8.5k | kind of a pretty woman vibe, a little romcom and a little crime thriller. ANYWAY i can be reticent about sex work AUs but there's such verisimilitude in this one specifically for how many part-time gigs will is working and i think its great that the full service SW is treated basically the same as the column writing and dog-walking. it's all skilled work that's a little bit of a slog and really he wants to be free to get back to the romance subplot

it never sings vain by chaparral_crown | 117k | midsommar inspired folk horror au | exquisitely painful to read from start to finish, feels like eating your own beating heart, heavily recommend (feat. extremely vivid and graphic depiction of suicide right out the gate)

long live the knife by tei | 29k | baroque musician au | STICK THE FUCK WITH ME HERE you'll like this so much even if you don’t know much about that. you will. the depth of research that clearly went into this fic is one of the best i've ever seen and breathes so much life into this concept and will and hannibal both fit into this space in such nuanced and interesting ways! questions of bodily autonomy and god and death and art? johann sebastian bach is there?

all of history [deleted with one stroke] & coercive notions re-evolve by serindrana | 69k | sleeper agent/mind control au that leans into psychological horror | pt 1 is a season 1 vignette: hannibal tries to take advantage of will's fevered brain and finds that it is not the terra incognita he had expected. pt 2 is a plottier fic: while trying to recover his missing memories in the BHSCI, will blacks out and wakes up at hannibal's house, where he slowly pieces together the history that has been hidden from him (feat. dubious consent and torture)

🫀PART THE THIRD : EARNING THAT XXX RATING [canonverse or not but most importantly, good n horny]

rabbit hearted by bleakmidwinter | 18.5k | post-fall getting together fic | i am a sucker for this very specific mix of romantic tension and intimacy negotiation and apparently not at all immune to the allure of 'gay sex feat. this straight guy who is about to get his mind blown'

sweet milk by lazybaker | 21.5k | post-fall good clean fun fetish fic | i am also not immune to men's tits or the notion of a LITTLE bit of tasteful lactation. sorry i meant tasty

conduit by mokuyoubi | 9k | post-fall getting together fic WITH. a fun bicurious threesome moment. like i said i'm kind of a sucker for fics that turn on the axis of will graham figuring out how to get into having gay sex

satisfied by h0neybeebear | 11.6k | WILDLY sensual and sexy t4t marathon sex that should qualify for some kind of medal or award. new nobel prize category. the incendiary capacity of el's sensory descriptions could power a rocket straight into the sun or, alternatively, keep a hitachi charged for approximately 5 aeons

let me sinful be by darlingred1 | 20k | will is an anal sex toy connoisseur and hannibal is so, so, so intrusively curious about it. i won’t say how many times this has been visited in my history. top of the ao3 wrapped type of shit

#nbc hannibal #fic rec #rec list #hannibal fanfiction #UH how do i. tag #hannibal fic recs

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eletricheart · 20 days

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Hey, can you do a Donna beneviento x long lost child, he/she is a bsaa agent (member of the hound wolf squad) that has a mission on the village and got captured then the lords were surprised that he/she has Beneviento last name and then it turns he/she is Donna's child and they met and then Donna try to say sorry for abandoning him/her and eventually the two make up. Also make the story longer if you may plsss

Purple Hyacinth

(Donna Beneviento x child!reader)

*pinterest: hideandsiek

Word count: 1703

I am so sorry this took so long😭i tried my best to make this good so it'd kinda make up for the time but idk, hope u like it😔🫶

ps: i changed a few things but not like the main idea yk, lmk if its okay😔✌

ps: pls lmk any spelling mistakes😬

----------------------------------------------------

It was your first official assignment at the BSAA, there would be no “babysitters” on the field with you, which you were glad. It was supposed to be simple, go in, gather information on the cult’s activities and get out.

Of course there was some danger to it, such as getting caught by the village leader leading to endless torture and experiments. Just light consequences if you make a mistake.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

You arrived at day time, a few hours past the morning sermon. You believed that pretending to be a lost traveler during the day was less suspicious than at night.

You took mental notes of everything you’d see, the architecture, the clothings, language. Soon enough you knew exactly what to say and to whom.

However, your good luck couldn't last forever. And that's how you find yourself trying to argument your way out of Heisenberg's factory.

You knew he wasn't fully in agreement with Mother Miranda, from what the villagers said.

Unfortunately for you, he needed a favor from the priestess, hence you now being dragged to the Lord’s meeting.

Donna didn't recognize you at first, in all honesty the dollmaker was barely paying attention to the meeting, choosing to get lost in thought while staring at the ground.

However, you had a birthmark near your right eye, noticeable enough that the moment Donna looked up she knew it was you. Suddenly the room felt as if it closed on her, her breathing started to get inconsistent, her hands tightened around her dress while Angie quietly tried to calm her down.

You weren't supposed to be here, you were supposed to be safe, she tried so hard to keep you safe.

The minutes passed in a blur, the Lord’s voices were almost unintelligible, until Mother Miranda ordered Lady Dimitrescu to choose your fate. Donna was quick to rise to her feet and quickly whisper a request to the priestess, who distrusted her eagerness to keep you but accepted nonetheless.

1989

You were born four weeks before winter, so quiet and pale that for a moment Donna worried you were sick. You brought a joy that she hadn't felt in a year since her parents died.

Until winter arrived, and then suddenly you were both trapped inside the Manor.

The voices became too much, her fear was too loud. There was so much death in this house, Donna feared you would be just another victim of it, so she let you go.

The Lady spent the entire winter loving you the best she could, memorizing every laugh, every cry.

The Duke was the one who helped in getting you to a good foster home, away from Romania, away from her, away from her curse.

During that year, spring didn't reach the Beneviento Manor

Present day

The walk to the Manor was quiet, especially since you knew of the dollmaker’s ability, annoying her would do nothing but get you killed.

However, you remained observant, noticing how anxious Donna seemed, even though she was in her territory and you presented no threat.

Once approaching her house you chuckled at the sight of a few daffodils blooming. Donna quickly stopped in her tracks and turned to stare at you.

You smiled awkwardly. “Sorry, just saw some daffodils.”

The dollmaker nodded slowly, scanning the garden looking for the flower. “It means rebirth.”

You made a noise of agreement. “I was just thinking of a song.”

Donna made a low “oh” and continued her walks towards the house.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

It took two weeks for you to talk to each other. Donna was overwhelmed with the need to care for you but simultaneously afraid of telling who she really was and end up with you hating her. You, on the other hand, carried on the mission, quietly investigating the house and its inhabitants, Donna’s constant disappearance only made it easier.

It wasn't a long conversation, just small talk during dinner, but for Donna it was everything.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

Only one week later and you overheard a phone call of intruders. Your first thought was a rescue team, you hadn't found out much regarding the village’s routine but knew enough of the Lords.

You had been with the BSAA since you were a child, they picked you up in an orphanage claiming you had great potential to protect the world. You believed in them, they were the only family you knew.

Therefore, you took your chance and ran away from the Manor in the middle of the night, trying to find the team.

Donna noticed a few minutes later, rushing off of bed, praying to every god that nothing happened to you.

She found you in a clearing, sitting on the floor surrounded by who Donna believed was the intruders. You barely moved when she approached you, slowly sitting down beside you.

There were tears streaming down your face, your gaze locked in the bloodied knife in your hand. “They came to kill me.” You said, not turning to look at her.

Donna took a deep breath, keeping her hatred for those men hidden while trying to comfort you. “Mother called me to warn that they may stop by at the Manor, they always do this when one of their spies fail.”

You turned to look at her, trying to hold a sob. “But I didn't fail, I swear I didn't! Why do they not want me anymore?!” You could barely breathe, the tears were flowing freely, the knife long forgotten while you held yourself. “Why does no one want me? What did I do?” Your voice no louder than a whisper.

Donna could feel her heart break at every tear that went down your face, she knew it wouldn't be fair to tell you now, so she pulled you close and held you while you cried.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

Afterwards you willingly stayed with Donna, being more talkative towards the woman, even sometimes participating in Angie's game.

Even though the dollmaker was definitely happier, her anxiety still took a toll on her. The other Lords and Miranda kept questioning why she’s protecting the girl, even you were confused but decided not to test your luck by asking her.

It was during a sunny day when Donna decided to tell you the truth. You were both under a tree, you were laying with your eyes closed and your head in her lap while she read a book.

You looked so peaceful that she almost gave up but she couldn't keep this hidden forever, despite the others attempt at secrecy, she knew they were already investigating.

Donna gently tapped your shoulder, silently asking you to sit down, to which you did.

The dollmaker took a deep breath, picking her nails as a way to destress and strongly avoiding your gaze. “I-I was just wondering if you’ve ever wanted to meet your mother.”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise but quickly turned into confusion. You had never told her your past, in fact it took you weeks to tell her your first name. “I’m sorry, what?”

Donna could feel her heartbeat getting faster, she still refused to look you in the eyes. “Mother was investigating…” The dollmaker thought back into lying, shaking her head. “That was a lie, I’m sorry. I just-I-”

You stopped her mid sentence and held her hand. “Breathe. It’s okay, you’re okay.”

Donna quickly nodded, wiping the tears that started to fall. “I’m your mother.”

You furrowed your brows, trying to control your breathing. “You’re lying.”

The dollmaker shook her head, gripping your hands tighter. “I’m not, I swear. I-I was so scared I didn't want to let you go but it was the only option I had. Please, please, don't hate me.”

You felt confused, you stared at her for a while, hoping that it’s just a stupid joke, but it wasn't. And then you felt betrayed, sad, angry. You wanted to scream at her, to forgive her, to cry. But you did none of it, you only removed your hand from hers, and wiped the few tears that slipped. “No.”

Donna’s eyes widened and before she could say anything you spoke again. “I’ll pack my belongings and leave.”

You rose to your feet slowly, afraid that your legs might give out, and walked towards the Manor.

The dollmaker quickly followed you, gently grabbing your arm and turning you around. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Just-I-please give me a chance.”

You scoffed. “Why? No offense but I don't want to be abandoned for a third time.”

You tried to release your arm but Donna kept her hold. “I know you have no reason to trust me. But let me prove myself to you, I won't make the same mistake, I promise.”

You stared at her hands trapping your arm. “Your promises mean nothing to me.”

Donna nodded, attempting to not break down in front of you. “I know.”

You took a deep breath and looked at the woman in front of you. “I can't take it again, so please don't ask me to stay just so you break me again.”

“I won't.”

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

You waited a year to tell the others since you needed more than a few words to believe the dollmaker and officially meet her family.

Alcina was extremely happy to have another child in the family, even though you constantly reminded her that you were an adult.

At first Karl was awkward, especially with being the one to have kidnapped you. Sometimes Donna regretted the time she introduced you two, most of it was when you’d show up back home covered in coal.

Moreau was glad to have a new friend, but mostly confused as to when Donna had a kid.

And Miranda…well she tried to kidnap you once she found out the pregnancy was during the cadou’s implant. However after a lot of talk and some threats she agreed to only a few blood samples.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

For all the following years, wherever you were she was. Donna took her promise to never leave you quite serious, of course you both learned boundaries after a while.

Even though you were an autumn child, you brought spring back into her life. And in return, she gave you a family.

----------------------------------------------------

requests are open but know that i may take a week to six months to answer them🤪: masterlist

#resident evil village #re8 #donna beneviento #resident evil #non canon #donna beneviento x reader #lady beneviento #fanfic #re8 donna #resident evil donna #donna beneviento x child!reader #lady beneviento x reader #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil 8 #resident evil fandom #angst with a happy ending #re8 fanfiction #re8 fic

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saradika-graphics · 5 months

Text

Masterlist Headers + Matching Divider Sets

AESTHETICS

— Ace (Moon/Stars)

— Alchemy

— Bakery

— Blush Romantic

— Burgundy & Gold

— Constellations (Blue/Green)

— Cottagecore / Dark Academia

— Fire

— Forest-themed

— Halloween

— Hyacinth

— Maroon/Purple Witch

— Misty Forests

— Neon

— Orange-themed

— Purple/Blue Space

— Seasonal Aesthetic

— Skulls & Lace / Skeletons

— Sun

— Taupe and Teal

— Winter/Christmas

— Yellow-themed

FANDOMS

Star Wars

— Andor (The Eye)

— Bi-Pride Colors

— Dark Blue (& R2D2)

— Din Djarin

— Din Djarin & Boba-themed (Star Wars)

— Endor (Forest)

— Golden-themed

— Pastel Colors

— Pink/Mauve (Star Wars)

— Poe Dameron

— Red & Orange-themed

Marvel/DC

— The Batman

— Blue Beetle

— Bucky Barnes

— DC

— Marvel Inspired

— Loki Inspired

— Miguel O’Hara

Games/Series

— Astarion (BG3)

— Lae’zel (BG3)

— Call Of Duty

— House of the Dragon

— The Last Of Us

— The Witcher

Movies/Books:

— Ballad of Songbirds & Snakes

— Ezra/Prospect

— Lord of the Rings & matching Navigation

— One Piece (Zoro) — Scream / Ghostface | Ethan Landry

✨(Everything was made in and using Canva - so check that app out if you’re looking to make your own! Credit is not required but a reblog would be great if you use! 💕) ✨

#masterlist #type: headers #type: headers/dividers

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stalkerofthegods · 5 months

Text

Hara is the Greek goddess of many joyful things, Even tho she has a bad reputation, she is beautiful in looks and soul.

Herbs • lilies, poppies, irises, white roses, waterlilies, Golden roses and white roses, Vitex agnus-castus, poppies, stephanotis, cypress, coconut, maple trees, all white flowers, Marigold, Patchouli, Sage, Rosemary, Frankincense, oak, asterion flower, hyacinths (from when Zeus swept her up in a cloud in Bed of hyacinths in the Iliad 14.340-50)

Animals•peacock, the crow, the cuckoo, carrion-crow, Cow, snake, dragon, crab, snail, and other shelled creatures, eagle, young cow or lion, Wide-winged hawk, Cranes, heifer, goat

Zodiac • Cancer

Colors •White, royal blue, purple, dark green, grey, and silver, yellow, gold, red, blue, purple, rose.

Crystal• pearls, garnets, citrine, amber, diamonds, star sapphires, platinum, Morganite, Rose quartz, Lapis lazuli, Peacock ore, herkimer diamond, iris agate, apophyllite, morganite, turquoise.

Symbols• the crow, the cuckoo, the peacock and the pomegranate, Milky Way, the cow, the seasons of the year, Lotus-staff, the scepter.

Jewelry you can wear in their honor rings• wedding veils, and veiling in her honor.

Diety of • marriage, women, childbirth, and family, she also used to be an earth goddess, Matriarchy, fertility

Patron of • married women, presiding over weddings and blessing marital unions, bringing a woman fertility, protecting her children, helping a woman find financial security, overseeing both private and public affairs, and protecting women in labor. She also has domains in life, death, and the rebirth cycle. And is the patron of earth and cows before marrying Zeus, the Air, Clear skies, Rain, Storms, the Constellations, Maidens of marriageable age, Maiden virginity, Betrothals, Bride-price (dowry), Widows, Menstruation, Heirs, Dynasties, Fidelity (legitimate heir & not the product of adultery), Inheritance, sanctity of the home, kings, empires, heaven, showers, and breezes, prosperity, progeny and military victory, luck in battle, heroes

Alter ideas• She likes big alters, and I would put them near a lake, she was raised near a lake, and she likes extravagant things.

Offerings• Honey, Breads, grains, homemade sweets, Pomegranates, Fruits, Milk, Wine, Pure water, Peacock paintings, peacock statues, peacock patterns, Cow paintings, cow statues, cow print patterns, Cuckoo bird art, cuckoo bird statues, Cuckoo clocks, Diadem (crowns), Throne imagery, Framed family photos, Chocolate, Pomegranate seeds, Peacock feathers, Peacock jewelry, Cuckoo feathers, Snail and hermit crab shells, Cow jewelry, Toy peacocks or cows, Perfumes, Silver and gold jjewelry (especially rings), White or gold rose petals, Golden roses, Art that you’ve created (especially if it is an art of Her), Poems are written for Her, Any crafts you’ve made, Stories that you’ve written, Photos of your S.O. and children, goat meat, goat cheese, the asterion flower, Nemean lion imagery, shields/shield imagery, wedding related (ex- rings, veil, garter, copy of vows), she likes sweet things, snail shells, any shelled animal leftover shell

Devotional• Donate your time or money to charities that help women and children, find a fallen branch and burn a small part of it as an offering to Hera (based on the festival Daedala), don’t cheat, don’t make others cheat (don’t be a side chick), tame your jealousy, Read the story of Zeus and the Daidale (“wooden bride”), As you make your bed ask Hera to bless it and Bring romance to your marriage bed, Take a day to indulge in love, keep your home clean, be kind to children, do house chores, take care of your physical health, take care of your mental health, speak your mind, donate to and support domestic abuse victims, write her poems, donate old maternity clothes and baby clothes, Campaigning for women’s rights and equal marriage, gardening, painting, making music, do colour magick, Celebrate solstice and changing seasons, Setting a boundary in life (especially in love).

Ephithets• Cow-Eyed, White-Armed, The Virgin, Queen of the Gods, Protectress, Queen of Heaven, Protector of Women, Hera Alexandros (Protector of Men), Lady of the Beasts, Of The Golden Sandals, Ἀλέξανδρος (Alexandros) - Protector of Men, Αἰγοφάγος (Aigophágos) - Goat-Eater, Ἀκραῖα (Akráia)- She of the Heights, Ἀμμωνία (Ammonia), Ἄνθεια (Antheia) - flowery Ἀργεία (Argéia)- She of Argos, Βασίλεια (Basíleia)- Queen', Βουναία (Bounáia)- She of the Mound, Βοῶπις (Boṓpis) - Cow-Eyed or Cow-Faced, Λευκώλενος (Leukṓlenos)- White-Armed, Παῖς (Pais)- Child (in her role as virgin), Παρθένος (Parthénos)- Virgin, Τελεία (Teléia)- as goddess of marriage, Χήρη (Chḗrē) - Widowed, Τελχινία (Telchinia) - She was named like that because according to a legend, that the Telchines were the first in the island and also the first who created statues of gods, Ζυγία (Zygia) - as the presider over marriage, Hera Nympheuomene - Hera the betrothed bride, Hera Pais - Hera the girl, Hera Parthenia - Hera the maiden

Equivalents• Hathor (Egyptian), Juno (Roman), Frigg (Norse), Isis (Egyptian)

Aspects• Khaos-Aer (the Air), Hemera (Day), Nyx (Night), Titanis Rheia (Flow), Selene (the Moon), Eos (Dawn), Mother of Typhon (Typhoon, Smoke)

Attendees• Eleithyia (Goddess of Childbirth), Hebes (Goddess of Youth), Iris (Goddess of the Rainbow), The Horai (Goddesses of the Seasons & Heavenly Law and Order), Okeanides (Cloud-Nymphai)

Signs they are reaching out• Sudden imagery of peacocks and her animals, sudden mentions of what she is the goddess of, feeling an intense pull to her

Morals• Morally grey

Courting• Zues

Personality• Hera has a fast temper and is quick to administer justice

Mortal or immortal • immortal

Fact• Hera’s temples may have been the first to be roofed, her temples were some of the largest ever built (she is very big on big alters and on temples)

Blessings• Good betrothal, Marital harmony, Successful birth, Heirs, Dynasties, Birth of a male heir, good luck in battle, successful birth

Curse: Marital discord, Punishment of adulterers, death in birth, Protracted labor

Roots• her origin could’ve been as a Pelasgian goddess, she was nursed as an infant by the three daughters of the river Asterion: Euboia, Prosymna, and Akraia. But in the Iliad, Hera states she was given by her mother to Tethys to be raised, aspected to be raised in Argos in Argolis Greece and her birthplace being Samos on a Greek island. She also claims to be the oldest, but so does Hestia.

Parentage• Kronos and Rhea

Siblings• Zeus, Poseidon, Hades, Hestia, and Demeter, half-siblings with Chiron

Pet• peacocks (peacocks pull her chariot)

Children • Angelos, Ares, Eileithyia, Enyo, Eris, Hebe, Hephaestus, and the Kharites, many say she adopted Heracles, (he built a temple for her and etc)

Appearance in astral or gen• in Greek and Roman art as a large woman, fully clad, wearing a diadem radiantly beautiful woman, shining like the sun, however, she is also a shape-shifter with many forms and is usually wearing a veil. She also has 3 aspects, the Maiden, Mother, and Crone aspects, She comes with the scent of flowers, and the earth blooms at her every step.

Festivals • Daedala, Heraia, and Anthesphoria were also common in the Peloponnese (where it was celebrated in honor of Hera Antheia at Argos, and of Aphrodite Antheia at Cnossus.)

Month• June

Sacred places• Heraeum at Nemea in the Argolid, the great temple on the island of Samos, and the temple at Olympia. A sanctuary at Argos, a seventh-century BCE temple built over an earlier shrine, is among the oldest Greek temples, Argos (Samos).

Status• Queen of the gods, and a major deity before and after marriage.

What angers her • Cheating, the Trojans.

Music she likes• wedding music.

What she likes in people• Women, heroes, moms.

Planet• Venus, and the full moon

Her Tarot cards• The empress, the world.

Scents/Inscene • rose, iris, myrrh, civet, jasmine, and patchouli, Rose, stephanotis

Prayers•

Hera, queen of Olympos, the bride of thundering Zeus, protector of marriage, of the joining of hearts and the creation of bonds, of the building of home and the finding of family. Great Hera, whose presence honors any wedding day, whose favor graces any marriage, I pray to you, O goddess, grant to me a joyous union, a love to last, a harmonious home. I ask your blessing on my household, O Hera–may it be a place of happiness and affection. I ask your blessing on my marriage bed–may it be a place of joy and pleasure. May my mate and I share our lives; may we grow old together, merry and content; may our words be honey-sweet, and may our love be ever strong. Shining Hera, I ask your blessing.

“O Hera, Queen of Gods, divine protector of marriage, From your throne above, look upon us with favor. Majestic and exalted, cloaked in unyielding loyalty, Bless the bonds we forge, and the promises we make. Grant us the strength to uphold love’s sacred vow, To support and cherish, through trials and time. May our hearts reflect your undying commitment, As we seek harmony, guided by your wisdom. Hail Hera, the eternal matriarch, in reverence we call, With offerings of peacock plumes and lilies white. Embrace us in your grace, bestow upon us unity, As we honor you, now and in all our days.”

I praise you bright and noble Hera, great lady of Olympos, gracious queen of the deathless gods, dark-eyed goddess, fairest of the children of Rhea, graceful and comely, cloaked in the starry skies, garlanded in poppies fragrant and blood-red, crowned in brightest gold, the lotus wand in your hand, your form ever draped in the finest of silks, majestic one whose blessing is sought by all, whose gifts are treasured, whose favor is a surety of good fortune. Hera, champion of great cities, gurardian of ancient Argos and the pretty isle of Samos, warder of the bounds of marriage, protector of women in the old world and the new, unparalleled goddess, white armed one, sovereign of the high-reaching heavens, I honor your might.

Deep-eyed Hera, beloved bride of mighty Zeus, mighty goddess, fair of face and silent of step, noble your manner, stately and poised your form, a queenly presence is ever yours, godly in glory, womanly in grace and beauty. Beloved Hera, patroness of kings and princes, friend of women, of mothers, upholder of marriage, of the right of lovers to join hearts and hands; lavish your gifts, liberal your hand, limitless the blessings you bestow on those you favor. Hera, the broad sky is yours, and the sweet air we breathe; to you we turn to for harmony and wedded bliss; to you we turn to for strength in the passion and turmoil and hard work of marriage; to you we offer our thanks for a life of love. Well-crowned Hera, beautiful one, revered one, greatest of goddesses, I praise and honor you.

Hera of the deep heart, the beautiful goddess whose true radiance would blind mortal eyes, whose steps fall softly in the golden halls of storied Olympos. In silks your fair form is draped, O Hera, heavy with jewels is your crown, the sweetest of perfumes surround you; in ancient times you received the highest honors, the finest of offerings were ever yours, your shining temples stood across the land. Hera, defender of cities, protector of marriage, champion of the love that upholds a family, that cherishes a child, you are the friend of those who hold the household dear. Queen of the heavens, holder of the lotus staff, the poppy and the pomegranate have you in hand. Hera, supreme in dignity and grace, unsurpassed in goodness and kindness, I praise you.

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