#I like drawing them close. Family your honour

[phasmidlee]

Go my furies... I like drawing them but I had the lines for this done traditionally for agesss and then realised I did Vector's shoes wrong it's funny to me

[fayes-fics]

Ingénu

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: On his eighteenth birthday, Benedict loses his virginity with you on a warm summer's night...

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI. Loss of male and female virginity. Sex education (sort of, mostly innocent leading innocent), vaginal sex, alfresco sex, withdrawal method, orgasms (them lucky kids). Childhood friends to lovers.

Word Count: 4.0k

Author’s Note: A fic I started more than two years ago, from THIS anon suggestion. Please note, the age of sexual consent in the UK is currently 16, so everyone is legal, although, in Regency, it was 10 (yikes). Thanks to @colettebronte for beta reading. Err, enjoy! <3

Benedict Bridgerton.

If you were to give yourself to anyone before marriage, you know it would only ever be him. 

You grew up as neighbours, your family estate bordering his family’s in Kent. Born five months apart, it’s like destiny that you would be close. You shared your first chaste kiss when you were both twelve and then a French kiss at sixteen. And now, well, perhaps a lot more.

It’s his eighteenth birthday party when, while Colin draws attention to himself, Benedict grabs your hand and whisks you away without anyone noticing. Perhaps the brotherly distraction was by design. 

Wordlessly, he leads you far from the house into a small clearing in the woods around Aubrey Hall. There is a blanket, some pillows, and even some candle lanterns that he now lights. It appears he has something planned, and it causes a flutter in your stomach.

“Benedict, what is this?” you enquire sotto voce, his hand so large wrapped around yours. So safe.

“A quiet spot just for us,” he smiles back.

“To do what?”.

“To celebrate my birthday privately. In a manner that I know we are both so keen to,” he proclaims at first enigmatic, before clarifying: “You said you wanted to know a man before you are married, and I wish to know a woman.”

“But….” 

Beyond that, words fail.

You had indeed said as such just the other day. It was an idle, throwaway comment as you lay together in the long grass by the lake, squinting at the sun and enjoying the summer heat on your face. A languidness in your being had made you carefree with your words.

“It may be fine for you, Benedict, but I must be a maiden when I marry,” you point out.

“Well, what if you were to marry me someday?” he contends matter of fact.

“Is that a proposal?” you splutter. “Because I find it to be severely lacking.”

He chuckles at your affront. “No, you shall receive a ring when I propose,” he affirms.

“So, it is a when now, is it? “ you volley back, a smile tweaking your lips, unable to be anything but playful with him, as you have been for many a year now.

“Of that, you can be certain.”

There is a seductive edge to his voice, which seems so much older than his eighteen years; it’s quite captivating.

“But how can you be certain my answer will be yes?”

“I cannot,” he admits, seeming bemused by your quirked brow. “But I hope it will be after tonight.”

“And how can you be sure of my answer about tonight?” So much fun to toy with him.

“Again, I cannot,” he replies with a slight shrug but a soft, crooked smile. “I can only hope you deem me worthy,” he adds, gesturing around you.

“It is rather romantic,” you allow, watching in the lantern glow as he breaks into a much bigger grin that reaches his eyes. Candle reflections dance in his enlarged pupils. 

“I am so pleased you think so,” he beams. “I rather suspect Anthony plans to take me to a brothel this weekend. He did as such for his eighteenth and is of the firm opinion that I should follow suit. But in truth, I, well… “ he hesitates and takes a step forward, grabbing both of your hands in his. “...I want my first experience to be with you.”

The heartfelt, almost bashful admission has you squeezing his hands reassuringly, hoping it silently telegraphs how much you want the same, despite your reservations about preserving your honour.

“May I kiss you?” His tone is so sweet you don't want to say no.

Instead of answering with words, you push up onto tiptoes and land your lips on his. It’s familiar and exciting all at once. You’ve kissed secretly a few times now, and on each occasion, it has been incredible—like a live wire sparking between you. You push into his tall frame as your mouths open and your tongues gently touch. He tastes of peaty scotch and the smoky tinge of cigars, both likely birthday indulgences. 

His hold around your waist tightens as your kisses get more insistent and probing, tongues parrying. This time feels different—portending something more profound. Only breaking apart to take a breath, then, after a fleeting exchange of shy smiles, your lips smashing back together urgently, exploring anew.

As you cling to his waistcoat, his hands slide down your dress to grab your bottom, making you squeak into his mouth. You've never been grasped there before, and his fingers seem to span the whole of your cheeks. You stutter his name as your lips part, his aromatic breath gusting over your face as he flexes his fingers. He observes your face closely, the material of your dress bunching between his knuckles. 

“I like the feel of your bottom,” he declares with tender honesty.

You beam up at him and trace your hand down his back, running over the crisscross pattern of laces on his waistcoat before landing on his behind. His eyebrows raise as you splay your fingers over rounded, taut muscle.

“I like yours too,” you respond in kind, emboldened by how his pupils dilate and his mouth falls open at your pluckiness.

One of his hands moves to cup your jaw, diving in for another kiss, more demanding than before, your boldness catalysing a new urgency in him. His fingers trail down your neck, skating over your pulse point that you know is hammering hard, then sweeping lower over your shoulder.

“Is… is this alright for you?” His voice is full of awe as those fingers slip inside your dress, the heel of his palm resting lightly on your collarbone.

“Y… yes, it’s… wonderful, actually.”

It seems like he is mapping your skin, the contours of bone and muscle across your chest, sinking lower until his hand is resting on the swell of your breast. He worms inside your neckline, and two fingertips catch against your nipple. It pebbles hard at the slightest brush, your breath catching. You meet his blistering stare as he slowly swipes a finger over the puckered skin again. Heat prickles through you, a heavy tingle between your legs.

“Does that feel good?” 

His timbre is a beguiling mix of tease and hope as his fingertips gently swirl a circle around your areola. You nod, your lower lip snagging under your top tooth as a new tide of sensation washes through you.

“Where did you learn such things?” You marvel, your hands still on his bottom, flexing slightly, a mirror of his movements.

“My brother has told me some things,” he elucidates with a slight smirk, “including that if I touch your breasts, you will be excited for more.”

“I am,” you confess as intrigue steals your tongue: “What did he tell you to do next?” 

“That I should remove your dress and kiss your naked body, especially here.” he counsels, sliding over your nipple again.

“What else?” you pant, the thought of it making you lightheaded.

“I should feel between your legs for wetness that shows you are ready for me,” he intones as if recalling a verbatim conversation, even as his fingers spider across to your other nipple. You gasp again, a shiver running down your spine.

“Ready for you?” You echo, mildly embarrassed that you do not know any detail of what happens between a man and a woman. You have only a vague notion from the overheard gossip of people in your family’s employ. 

He grabs your right hand from his bottom and guides it to the front of his trousers. There is a hardness straining the material that you swear wasn't there before.

“What is that?” Your breath catches as its warmth seeps through the material into your palm.

“That is my cock, and if you wish to know a man, it is an essential part of the process,” he smiles winningly.

You squeeze gently on instinct, the resulting low growl in the back of his throat enthralling you.

“I think we should take off our clothes now,” he proposes, and you nod your acceptance.

His hand slips from inside your neckline and lands on the buttons between your shoulder blades as yours slide up from his trousers to his waistcoat, popping its buttons as those on your dress also relent.

“Is it alright to undress each other, or should we undress ourselves?”

“Either is acceptable, but I am rather enjoying this,” he divulges as you push his waistcoat off his shoulders.

“So am I…” 

He pulls off your dress, the silk pooling around your feet, a yen to crowd into him as the cool night air seeps through your gauzy chemise.

“You do not wear stays?” he seems taken aback, his gaze now intent upon your nipples, jutting out against the thin cotton.

“No, not yet. Mama says I am but young, and my bosom is still perky,” you explain, aroused by how his breath becomes a little laboured as you voice it.

“I like it when you say such words,” he rags, pulling you into him with a firm grip, his hands so hot through the thin cotton of your chemise. You have a sudden tart need to be naked with him, a tingle between your legs that can only be excitement.

“Take off my chemise, Benedict,” you encourage, guiding him to the ties at your neckline. You pull the bow loose, the material bunching in his hands as you both tug either side down, exposing your breasts. 

He groans as your nipples instantly pebble in the cool air. He tilts you backwards in his arms, his face descending. You rasp his name, your hand flying into his hair, twisting his chestnut waves between your fingers as the contrasting heat, suction and wetness of his lips enclose your nub. It's exquisite, and you never want this loop of pleasure coursing through you to end, pushing your breast further into his mouth.

While he lathes with his tongue, you slacken the neckline further and shimmy out of the chemise, keen for more, already addicted to this wondrous feeling coursing in your bloodstream. 

He takes a step back to look at you as the last scrap of fabric flutters to the ground.

You see the quiver in his hands and the tented outline in his trousers as his eyes drink in your naked form, lingering on your nipples, wet with his saliva, and the patch of hair between your legs that is also damp now, a slickness between your thighs that has you wanting to squirm. 

His pupils are blown wide, his lips glisten, his cheeks are rosy, and his hair is wild from your tussling as he suddenly whips off his shirt. It sails through the air in a puffed arc. The captivating sight of his pale skin glowing like sculpted marble in the moonlight ties your tongue.

But your admiration is short-lived as he is on you again, propelling you into his arms. Your mind buffers as his broad, smooth chest collides with your dampened breasts, his kiss plundering your mouth. 

It feels like you are both drunk on a fascinating cocktail of urgency and nerves, navigating new territory with a bumbling, innocent, but innate excitement. 

“Lay down,” he whispers delicately into your mouth as you emerge for air.

You do as bidden, holding his hand as he assists you onto the blanket and laying back to stare up at him, towering over you now. His hands fall to the buttons on his britches, and you can't help but bite your lip, a shiver of anticipation to see how he looks naked.

He seems almost nervous as he pops the buttons and then shuffles the woollen material downwards over his thighs. But you only have eyes for what lies between his legs. Like yourself, there is a patch of hair there, but also something entirely other that makes your thighs clench together reflexively. This must be his cock. It is a rigid mass, reddened at the flared tip, jutting out from his body at least half a foot and beneath are adjoined sacs that droop a little.

“Do not be afraid,” he murmurs, perhaps misinterpreting your curiosity for fear.

“I know you will not hurt me, Benedict,” you placate, your eyes flitting up to his face and reaching for his hands to bring him to lay down with you on the blanket.

He sighs as he kneels beside you, his hand cradling your cheek. “That is the thing, my sweet; my brother says it might hurt for a lady on her first time.”

Your breath catches at the term of endearment he employs, placing your hand over his. “I know you will do everything to mitigate such.”

His eyes go soft, and he rolls on top of you; so much warm skin. An all-consuming sensation as you lay together naked, that cock branding your inner thigh as he settles atop you.

“Indeed ‘tis true…” he confirms, then hesitates before continuing in an ardent intonation: “I meant what I said. I wish for you to be my wife one day. I do believe I love you, y/n.”

Your heart soars at his tender confession. “And I believe I love you too, Benedict.”

His responding smile lights up his whole face. 

You may only be seventeen, but you know the contents of your heart. There is no man you have met whom you trust as much as this wondrous boy, now man, you have grown up alongside. You sincerely hope to have the privilege to grow up and, indeed, old with him.

“Are you certain?” he checks sweetly, and you can only nod as his touch trails down over the ticklish skin of your belly, leaving little lines of fire that sear in his wake.

There is a jolt to your entire being as his fingers slide into your most intimate area, somewhere only you have touched before. You keen and press up into him, quite certain nothing has ever felt like this before. 

“Oh, you are very wet,” he stutters, almost stunned. “But that is good,” he quickly appends before you can become self-conscious. “It means you desire me as much as I desire you.”

“I do desire you, Benedict,” you are at pains to express, a restlessness fizzling under your skin and a clawing need for him in your bones, knowing this can only be of his doing and wanting to burn so much more. “What happens now?”

He guides your hand gently between his legs. He moans as your hand instinctively curls around it, the skin so silky even over a mass so rigid. “I put my cock inside you,” he stumbles. “Into the place you are leaking from…”

“Will it fit?” You frown, unsure you have a place within yourself to accommodate it.

“Yes.. well, at least, that is what I have been told.” 

His slightly vulnerable admission makes you release his cock and grab his face, tilting his gaze to meet yours.

“We shall find out together,” you assure, smiling when he nods gently.

This is just another adventure you will embark on together, much as you have since you were children. 

He kisses your knuckles and guides you to hold onto his shoulders as he shifts above you. Butterflies behind your ribs as he looks down at what he is doing, a slightly anxious expression as he grabs his cock and manoeuvres it between your legs. 

You spread your feet wider to the edges of the blanket, its threads scrunching between your toes as you feel blunt pressure between your damp folds. You can't help the noise you make from the intensity of it. 

Benedict’s head shoots up to scrutinise your face, concern flooding his handsome features.

“Are you alright?” 

“Yes, I think so, just nothing I have experienced before…”

Then his eyes go as wide as yours as just his tip slips into your leaking channel.

“You are so hot and tight,” he stumbles, floored by what he is experiencing as much as you are.

“You are so hot and large,” you answer in kind, gripping his bicep as he presses deeper and an odd pinch of pain flares; it makes you hiss and bite your lip. 

He mumbles an apology, pausing. “I assume that is what they were referring to. Sh-should I continue?”

“Yes, I am alright now,” you reassure him, briefly touching his cheek, curiosity outweighing the fading, dull ache. 

You are slack-jawed in astonishment as your channel stretches wider to accommodate his push forward. He is panting, and his eyes are almost like saucers as he stares down upon you, neither of you blinking.

“Oh my goodness,” he mutters enraptured. “Please tell me this feels as good for you…”

“It’s wonderful, Benedict,” you promise breathily, a warmth unfurling behind your ribs that he would care as such. “Intense, yet wonderful.”

“Same,” he exhales shakily, a vein throbbing rhythmically on his neck as he sinks deeper.

Each fractional inch has you surprised anew, a captivating gradual invasion. Just as you think you could not be any fuller, he stops.

“I am entirely within you now.”

You try to catalogue all the feelings at once, to savour them, but it's impossible. The sense of him inside and surrounding you, flesh entwined, is all-consuming; defies words or descriptions.

“I shall move when you are ready,” he whispers into your cheek before kissing you softly. 

With your nodded consent, he withdraws and then surges back in, your channel clinging to him—a sensation unlike anything you have ever experienced before, so intimate and powerful. Your fingernails claw into him, hugging him down onto you, wanting his skin upon yours.

“Oh Benedict….”

It’s all you can voice. 

A tremble all over as you share this moment, tentatively moving with him in a complementary rhythm, almost a dance like that in a ballroom. Give and take, push and pull. And there is no one you would rather be dancing with. Your bodies meld together perfectly as if designed to be joined as such. You certainly don’t understand why some women dislike relations with a man—you would happily do this anytime.

Benedict's motions speed up, your folds swelling around his plunging cock, your heart hammering against your ribs, watching the ripples of ecstasy wash over his expression, a dew gathering in his hairline.

“It’s.. it’s overwhelming,” Benedict shudders. 

Indeed, there is a quake in his being, like he is a simmering pot about to boil over, even as his face appears anxious, like he does not yet want that to happen but is powerless to stop it. You quell his movement, clutching the belt of muscle above his hips.

“Rest within me a while,” you suggest, and he stills, a staccato exhale into your hair as his cock twitches inside you.

It is wonderful to be pinned under his weight. You run a soothing touch over his skin, the soft cotton of the blanket rubbing your shoulder blades as you shift under him, wrapping your ankles around the back of his knees. Your toes tease his fuzzy calves in soothing strokes as his breathing returns closer to normal. You know, somehow you should not kiss him, an incitement he does not need.

“I do not wish this to be over too soon,” he laments quietly into your hair—a swell of emotion within you at his honest admission.

“Neither do I, but it is our first time. We cannot expect to know or be good at everything, Benedict,” you rationalise, pausing for him to meet your gaze. A sheepish mien that makes him look so adorable. “We can learn to get better together.” 

The knit on his brow loosens a fraction as he hums in agreement.

“I have heard that should I finish before I want to, there are other ways I may ensure your satisfaction,” he offers humbly.

“What does that entail?” Enchanted by the idea he would be concerned for your pleasure as much as his.

“I may touch a nub between your legs that is like a freshwater pearl nestled within folds of dewy flesh,” he states, a poetic description you are sure must be from some book.

When he pulls up to glance at where you are joined, it makes his cock prod a new spot inside you. An incredible bloom of novel sensation that has you gasping and grabbing his arms. Your channel ripples around him, and he groans heavily, collapsing back upon you inelegantly.

“Holy fuck,” he curses, sounding winded.

And you know the time for talking is over. You are impatient for him to move again, for his cock to graze that spot once more.

“Bring your legs up higher,” he tutors, intuiting your needs. 

Just as your heels curl around the shapely curve of his bottom, he moves again, making you cry out in pleasure as he hits that exact target, your nails digging into his back.

“Don’t stop Benedict,” you appeal over a ragged gasp as he grazes it again, your eyes rolling, clinging to him.

His motions are jerkier now but rougher in just the way you need. He holds nothing back, both of you fumbling towards the ecstasy growing inside. Hands grabbing, moaning into dewy cheeks, wetness matting into the downy hair below, the most debauched of sounds from where your bodies meet as he pushes into you over and over.

All your muscles start to tense, a delirium washing over you that makes you impulsive. One of your hands worming between you to strum an engorged nub just above where he fucks you, knowing on some instinctual level it is key to your pleasure. You cry out, and your pussy clamps hard onto him. Benedict groans his approval as he takes a final harsh snap, you falling over an edge, fluttering hard around his now rippling cock.

He growls and wrenches himself out of your channel rapidly. But you are barely cognizant of a milky liquid spurting over your belly as you writhe under him, body febrile mind a thousand miles above amongst the summer stars

When you return to yourself, you feel him collapse onto the blanket next to you, pulling you into his arms as if there is a compulsion to always have your naked skin on his.

“No one warned me your body would do that,” he pants, astounded. “It took all of my strength to withdraw…”

“Why did you?” You crane your neck to pout at him, believing it would feel so much better to reach that peak wrapped around his cock.

“I thought it unwise to leave you with child…” he frowns as if his reasoning were obvious.

You buffer for a few seconds, then sit up and twist to look down at him, shock flooding your already overloaded senses.

“This?!” You splutter, “This is how babies are made?”

He chuckles at first, then tempers his face when he realises you are serious. 

“I… I thought you knew…”

”No! I have not been told a thing!” you bemoan, only now realising how much of adulthood you have yet to navigate.

He delicately pulls you down to rest on top of him, nuzzling your cheek. 

“I am sorry that is the case. One day, we shall have children, I am certain. But perhaps tis not a good idea just yet. We are still young, not even yet engaged.” 

You vehemently nod in agreement, flooded with gratitude that, even as he was in the throes of his first sex, too, he had the respect and forethought to care for the consequences for you both. 

“Thank you, Benedict,” you sigh, burrowing into his embrace as a gentle waft of breeze cools your flushed skin.

“‘Tis me who should be thanking you.” he insists, caressing your shoulder. “That was amazing. I am so glad we did this together.”

“As am I,” you return, as you lay entwined together, knowing already this will be the first of many.

masterlist • wips • taglist (must follow this blog to be tagged)

Benedict taglist pt 1: @makaylan @longingintheuniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @ferns-fics @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @hanji-emo-blog @sya-skies @urfavnoirette

[beware-of-pity]

You believe me like a god (I destroy you like I am) III

Masterlist

Previous Chapter - Next

Jacaerys Velaryon x reader

TW: Self-hatred/Implied Self Harm. Complicated family relations.The reader is a Targtower.

Cross-posted on Ao3

Chapter III: Cathedral where you cannot breathe (no need to pray, no need to speak)

The Sept was cold and empty, to accompany you in your prayer, there were only the candles burning bright on the marble altar in front of the statue of the Mother and your septa behind you, who sat on the stone bench.

Muffled in the background was the sound of novices singing. They had been singing in the sept all morning, but in reality, they had been doing so since your mother’s departure from this world a few days past. 

The sound of their voices mingled with the comforting flickering of the candles.

Now, along with the names of your siblings, you added that of your mother as you lit a candle for each of them.

The air was hot and heavy, smelling of incense and sweat from the heat created by the many lit candles, crystal-kissed and candle-bright; it could make anyone dizzy at first breath. You knew the hymns; your mother had taught them all to you a long time ago.

As you joined your voice with that of the novices along the tune of the hymn of the mother, your mind wandered to the first time you knelt to pray.

You could count five years of age on the sunny spring day your mother had taken you with her to the Grand Sept. Your father’s health had been anything but perfect, and many worried he would die as a result of it. Your mother, despite her hidden wishes for his timely death, had brought you and Helaena with her for a prayer in the name of his good health.

Even though your young mind couldn’t comprehend the weight of your father’s deteriorating health, you understood better than anyone the implications of it. Your mother wasn’t exactly subtle in her plans and plots behind closed doors when she would whisper them in the privacy of her room to you and your sibling, encouraged by her father.

The intricacies of the faith of the seven were never lost on you; your mother had a servitude of lady maids who hailed from Old Town, some were her cousins of a lower rank who served in her household, all faithful servants and devoted members of the faith. Your Septa being one of them or at least one of the only remaining ones that had not returned to Old Town or fled at the first news of war breaking. Safe to say that even before that day, you were not privy to the teachings of the faith, which your mother wished for your education to be stipped in, as opposed to those ‘Vulgar’ Old Valyrian Gods your sister Rhaenyra and your uncle Daemon believe in.

You were her daughter, and she would see fit that you were raised as she wished, and she wished for you to be raised in the manners of a courtly and devoted young lady, who professed to the faith’s teachings of modesty and submission, in the name of duty, honour and sacrifice.

The paths of the Mother, Maiden and Crone were laid for you since you were born, ones you were not forced to embark on, having taken a liking to those figures out of your own volition. You had tarot cards with their images drawn on them, which you would look at to pray with when you couldn’t go to the sept.

Your mother had helped you kneel, her warm and reassuring hand drawing circles on your back as she watched, so small and not even tall enough to reach the altar where the candles lay. She led the prayer, being the one among you three better suited for the task. You didn’t know how to talk to the gods, you wondered if the words you whispered in the solitude of your room were as heard as those your mother spoke before them when she came here.

“We ask the Mother for mercy. We ask the Crone for guidance in these trying times” Your mother’s voice was instructing but humble, her words pleading behind the falsehood of her requests.

Let him die, she would think to herself, he’s of better use to me dead than alive

“We ask the warrior to give our lord husband and father courage. We ask for the Stranger to not come for him yet, as his time has yet to come”

Your father did, indeed, get better, though you weren’t too sure it was because your mother had asked the gods to have the mercy of making it so.

His rising health was the cause of celebration, with a feast held to celebrate the occasion, one everyone was commanded to attend. Your mother smiled and kissed the cheek of your father, who gloated at her affection while she frowned and sneered when he looked the other way. This was just the way things were, and even at five, you knew the kind of love they shared.

Sometimes, you wondered if your mother would have wept had he died that time. If she would have played the sullen widowed at his funeral to garner the sympathies of others.

The night your father died had brought the many scenarios you had imagined and turned them into your reality - giving you every answer to the questions you once pondered and making you wish you had never asked them.

He had been kept in his room, locked, for ten days after. The stank coming from the cracks and crevices reached deep within the walls of the Keep, all so your mother could have the time to properly make sure Aegon sat the throne instead of your sister.

You had begged your mother to let Silverwing at least burn him, put him out of his misery and let him enter the afterlife, which she had refused and had made you wait until the news of your brother’s coronation had reached Dragostone. Only when the tide had brought news of Rhaenyra’s premature labour did your mother send for the servants to prepare the funeral for your father, an occasion she hoped would soon befall Daemon to plan for his wife and child.

Small boys become large men, in time, and a babe sucks down his mother’s hate with his mother’s milk - how long until you turned out like her? Traitors' blood is said to run thick, after all.

Your brothers had been shaped in her very image, which your father saw and never stopped himself from pointing out. No wonder he preferred his daughters, you included, over his sons.

But you were of the same blood as that had flowed in your brother’s veins. In the quiet of the night, your thoughts and you were left with the question of if you were bound to become like them. Ambitious and cruel.

Your father….he was a man, a better one than most, but alas, a man he remained. And that did not mean he was a good one.

You heard often of the tale detailing the death of his first wife, how he had married your mother only half a year after that. Some said he loved your mother more, that she had a hold over him that the late Aemma Arryn never had.

There were whispers, that….you never allowed your ears to listen to; about how your mother had been entertaining your father long before his wife’s death.

How they had been in a sort of affair of some kind before Aemma was cold. Had your mother truly seduced him or had simply caught his attention, the story goes that your mother was chosen above all to become the second Queen to hold your father’s hand and perhaps his heart.

Whatever the case, the love your father had for his first wife never overcame what he felt for your mother, honouring Aemma’s memory in upholding Rhaenyra as his heir until his very end, when your mother had laboured between death and life five times to give him his children, and never getting anything in return other than his ‘love’.

Which your mother thought wasn’t enough, especially when she had no love or fondness left in her for him when he hit the sickbed during the last months of his life. You didn’t blame her. You understood the resentment she felt towards being the exception of a thousand-year-old tradition and precedence. Every queen before her had watched their sons sit on the throne unchallenged, unquestioned.

Your mother did not have the same privilege, and she felt like it was wrong of her to be deprived of what she felt she should have rightfully been given for her loyalty, her sacrifices, and her effort in upholding the duties she bore as Queen. Especially when your father did not concern himself so much with his.

If your mother was the strict and duty-bound parent, your father was the fun, lenient one. Lenient was a better word most used for absent.

It’s not that he wasn’t around or made any effort in his ways of parenting you or Helaena; you two were close to him, not as much as Rhaenyra, but more than Aegon and Aemond could claim.

You loved the afternoons you got to spend with him in front of his model of Old Valyria, listening to the histories and tales of your family’s destructed ancestral home. When you were young, he used to tell you tales of how he had flown Balerion north of the Wall to fight Wildinlings, giants and wargs.

Of course, those tales were made up, but the way you smiled and laughed at them paid his efforts in making them sound as realistic as they could.

But, apart from that? apart from that…..he wasn’t much involved.

Most responsibilities when it came to raising you and your siblings came down to your mother. And every choice she made was seldom opposed by him.

You wished he had been more around, more active, to teach you more, but at last, perhaps he just…..didn’t want to.

He worried about Rhaenyra more, despite how he loved you and Helaena too.

Whenever news from Dragonstone came, he was at the beck and call to be the first to hear of them.

If Rhaenyra was sick, he would know. If she was with child once more, he would write and congratulate her with words of goodwill for the pregnancy. It was always Rhaenyra, and it remained Rhaenyra for the rest of his life.

He had Aegon and Helaena marry mostly to put Aegon out of the marriage market and to shut forever the possibility of him marrying Rhaenyra, a notion your mother often insisted on and one your father did not take kindly to.

With two of his children out of possible alliances, he had ruined your mother’s plans of marrying either to future potential allies.

He delighted in Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, as well as Maelor when he was born, making Helaena bring the little ones to his room so he could recount the stories he used to tell you in your infancy to them, as if to pass them down as true history.

He loved his grandchildren so much that he had begun to make plans for a possible betrothal for you before he passed.

To who you did not know, but some of the papers left and found in his room, when it was getting cleaned off the stank of his rotten body, suggested he thought of Jacaerys as a possible husband for you. Perhaps to end the discord that ran between the two factions and unite them once and for all -  but he had died before he could do so.

Plans that were never put to motion or mentioned were no plans at all, ones no one would follow. Merely empty words, and even if he had approved of something officially, your mother was sure to get rid of any evidence.

You were briefly betrothed to a Lannister during the war, one of Jason Lannister’s young sons, just as Aemond was to one of Borros Baratheon’s daughters. If you were not wrong, the young girl was now married to one of Rhaenyra’s most loyal allies. Was it Floris? Maris? No, Maris had been the one to instigate your brother to follow after Lucerys at Storm’s End. If only she knew what she was setting up in motion with her sneering words.

You were so lost in your thoughts you neither felt the presence nor the steps approaching the altar you knelt before. What you felt, though, was your Septa standing from her bench and walking a short distance to give you and this new presence the privacy that had been requested.

Your singing had stopped long ago but you dared not open your eyes as you felt what you most certainly believed to be a man, kneel beside you.

You did so, only when the sweet scent of leather and dragon hit your senses, knowing of only one man possible of carrying such scent.

“I did not take you for a man of prayer”

Indeed, Jacaerys was never one for religion. His mother had been more fond of the Valyrian Gods, such as the one she had named her dragon after. He had been made to swear on the Seven-Pointed Star when he was sent as a messenger up North to gather the support of House Arryn and House Stark. Mission he had proved more than successful in, unlike his brother….

“I am not”, he said “I’ve been taught my entire life that we Targaryens are closer to gods than to men. But alas, there are moments when my own flesh urges me to return to the nature of my soul. I am but a man before the gods, and when the time comes, I will be judged by them as such”

He had stopped calling himself a Velaryon the moment he was pronounced Prince of Dragonstone, opting for the name Jacaerys Targaryen. You watched from the side as he paraded himself by that name, with a confidence he lacked with his last.

“My heritage and my dragon will not defy my fate, but my devotion to the life I’ve served. There are times where I too find myself drawn to the common vices of men such as faith.”

You looked at him with the tail of your eye, the seriousness of his words, and the hardness of his features only highlighted more by the soft glows of the burning candles.

“You’re an honourable man. I do not see why the gods would judge you for the deeds you’ve done to protect your family” you said

“You know why” The sharpness and resignation of his tone were more than telling of what he was not willing to reveal. But you understood.

“That is no fault of yours” you reminded him, as you had done before, many times. “They know that too, just as I do”

“My very own existence is a sin against the gods” This time, he spoke with sorrow and dejection, ones you thought he had been carrying within his entire life

“The gods forgive every sin. I don’t see why they could not forgive this one” To that, he did not respond. “One that has always been out of your hands, out of your own will”

In the silence of the sept, here, two beings that carried so much guilt inside of them knelt before the gods as they spoke the truth heavying their hearts.

Your hand reached for a candle stick, holding it out for him to take. He looked sceptical at the prospect you were opening for him, but he took the stick, although with reluctance. He lit a candle that had been burned many times already, caved to the inside, burned by prayers, calls, and words lost only to time.

“How do you…?” He asked, but his question trailed at the ends.

“I don’t know” You were honest about your response “She taught me how, and I never….I never thought her wrong in her methods” Hesitation ran through you before you spoke again “Say whatever you wish, the gods will not judge. It is for you and them to know”

He held his hands up to the altar, crossing his hands as he fell into a silent prayer.

Beside him, you offered him terrestrial comfort and he sought that of otherwordly beings.

“I find this to be a way to be with my mother” Your words were soft, almost hunting as they reverbed slightly through the air “and with my siblings. I light a candle for their lost souls”

His eyes opened to look at candles lit in front of you before returning to find yours “I feel close to them as if they’re here with me” You pursed your lips “I get to say to them what I was never able to in life”

“Is that why you starve?” His question, although blunt, did not hold edge, anger or arrogance. It came from curiosity, a need to understand why you were hurting yourself when it pained him to watch. “To feel close to them?”

“No” your response held the same tone as his “I don’t starve. I fast. I rid myself of the guilt I carry with me”

“Call it whatever you want, but you’re hurting yourself” Now he was angry, surely he must by the forwardness of his words

“It’s a practice performed by Septas that want to rid themselves of the guilt they carry without revealing their sins” he would probably not understand, but you felt the need to explain, “My mother’s Septa she…used to be extreme in her methods. My mother would spy on her when she was young and took after her mentor as she grew” you sighed “I know you think of my mother as a cunning, ruthless woman that held no remorse for what she did but….I saw it. She ate at herself at times, and I think she used to beat herself up”

“You have nothing to rid yourself of” he was trying hard to convince you, making you realise that the truth you thought your words of carrying was no truth at all but rather one you had made yourself believe to be. You had done nothing, and yet here you were, punishing yourself for something others had done in your name, in your family’s name. Jacaerys thought it unfair.

When Lucerys had died, he had been angry, but most of all, he felt guilty. Had he not suggested for him and he to be sent as messengers to propose a more appealing approach instead of ravens, then perhaps Lucerys might still be here with you all. But Jacaerys had learned long ago that to kill himself with his feelings was not what Lucerys would have wanted. Lucerys was a sweet boy who loved his brother, and he would have hated to see Jacaerys beat himself into an early grave.

Many nights he had cried, nights he had visited the nursery, hoping to find comfort in his younger siblings, Joffrey in particular, who reminded him most of Luke. He didn’t know how to answer the childlike questions Aegon and Viserys asked him of when Lucerys would come home; he hoped the words of the mighty adventure he had embarked on would last until they were old enough to learn the truth.

“How can I not when my very name angers people?” You asked, “When my own existence is met with disdain? My presence pitied?”

“That I do not know” he responded, “but we can try how to”

Your eyes met, glistening into the light, silent words only you two would know until the end of your very days, whispered and sworn in the presence of the gods.

Together.

AN: So, about Alicent. I feel the need to explain what I'm doing with her. I'm writing for book Alicent while keeping the storyline of Otto forcing her to get close to Viserys and having him fall for her so Otto can get his bloodline on the throne. The idea is that she was not kin to the plot and was not a happy participant in it, but becomes who she is the moment she realises the bed was already made and how strong the need to play the game in order to survive was, turning into the leader of the Greens and taking over her fathers plans. She's....very complicated to explain, but if you look hard enough there are small hints of young show Alicent. So we're going with book age and characterization for her. Hope you have fun with this.

Taglist: @esposadomd

[miwiheroes]

Hey! Miwiheroes

I saw you succesfully converting a mileven into a byler, and can you do the same to me plz? I don't like mileven community, they often are really close minded and I don't wanna be a part of it anymore. I open the debate and please try to justify this things that make me believe in mileven endgame:

1- Mike has insecurities since s1 about feeling needed and having somebody to lean on, I do believe Mike's family lacks love and is cold, and maybe that is why he has those insecurities. Where am I going with this? Well, when El disappeared, Mike got super upset and, in my opinion, he overprotected Will so he could FEEL like somebody needed him, I think Finn and the Duffers mention it in an interview a while ago. So maybe that is the cause he couldn't say "I love you" to Eleven, he even says it, he believes she will leave him eventually, like everybody does. That is probs the cause he is obsessed with El in s3, because he really loves her and is too scared of losing her.

I just can't see why byler is supposed to be the endgame. I think in s5 Mike will motivate El to fight and they eventually will come together at the end, having their happy ending.

+ Maybe he was sad in the snowball because he thought El would just leave him there

Those insecurities are not healthy for a relationship, but they show he really loves her

I would love to see this things from a byler perspective if you can

Tyyy

Hiya!! Glad you came to me it's such an honour tbh

Yes, Mike definitely has insecurities surrounding being needed. The thing is: character arcs being set up in season 4 suggest that El no longer needs him/ should no longer need love from a man who treats her badly, makes her feel insecure. The change from the beginning of season 4 to the end clearly shows this:

El thinks she needs Mike's love to know that she is not a monster.

El goes to the lab and figures out by herself without Mike's love that she is not a monster.

Mike says 'I love you' to her. He calls her a 'superhero'. It does not work and does not save Hawkins because she no longer needs that.

They are not on the best terms afterwards because El has a very different perspective on things.

So now we've established that it's pretty clear that she no longer needs him. I think she's realised by the end, that their relationship won't work. This is why they won't be endgame for me, it makes no sense for her storyline in S5 to be Mike 'motivating her'.

She does not need a man to motivate her, cmon. Come on now. A point in season 4's lab storyline is that she can do all this shit by herself, drawing on her mother's love. She was able to gain back her powers through love, but at that point she had no clue Mike loved her or not. And yet she still got them back. She did not need Papa either, and he was constantly paralleled to MIKE in season 4.

Okay back to the beginning of your ask.

Mike's always been protective of Will, and we can see how their relationship is very different compared to their other friends throughout season one. An example of him being protective is when he does stuff like:

"I'm the only one acting normal here. I'm the only one that cares about Will."

"So this is all Will's fault?!"

*Literally pushes his bully over onto the ground and is willing to fight him after he says homophobic things about him*

*Constantly urges Lucas that Will is alive when the rest of them don't think so*

Like, bro literally instigates all his friends to go out looking for him in the rain, because he believes that would be what Will would do for them ("he put himself in danger to help the party").

So in your point of view, Mike projected his protective feelings about someone needing him onto Will because he's upset about El being gone. Couldn't the EXACT same thing be said but the opposite way around then? Mike likes to be needed. And it just happens to be that these two people need him in that moment. However, THE DIFFERENCE is this:

When Will goes missing? Mike never gives up. He constantly urges his friends to do whatever it takes to find Will. The reason he keeps El around (before he makes friends with her) is because bad people are after her and because she recognises Will in a photo. He says that El is a weapon and that "we can't find Will if we're dead". Even when they all believe him to be dead, he says that Will isn't because of something he heard on the radio, just like how Joyce heard him on the phone.

When El goes missing? Mike gives up. To be honest, it's been a year. Maybe if Will went missing for a year, he would have given up then too. But, we can see in a flashback scene from the VERY DAY that El goes missing, Mike literally sees her and doesn't go after her. The government does, but he just squints at her and doesn't do anything. Mike calls her on the walkie, and on halloween, he stops, prioritising Will and later figuring out that meeting him was the best thing he's ever done, and it seems conclusive. He has no hope of her being alive because he says to Max, "But she's gone, just like Bob." (Bobs literally just died so hes saying shes dead). Mike never uses Will as a vessel to find El, even though he easily could, being that he's connected to the upside down.

So where am I going with this? No. Mike does not project his feelings onto Will from his feelings about El. The behaviours he exhibits are continuous from his feelings before El went missing, and he doesn't treat him in the same way.

Some other points you brought up were:

Mike is afraid to lose El and that is why he can't say I love you. Of course he is afraid to lose her. He cares about her, he's said that truthfully. He's afraid to lose Dustin, he's afraid to lose Will, he's afraid to lose Lucas, he's afraid to lose anyone. He feels that survivors' guilt from season one especially though, which is all the more upsetting about why he says I love you in the end. Will tells Mike that El needs him and always will. Mike gets the belief that El needs him to say I love you to her, and gets reminded by Will before he says it. AND SO that is why he says it to her in the end. In reality of course, it is Will that needs him. SOOOO the thing that makes him 'love' El is that fact that she needs him, but he's going to get a real shock when he realises he loved the version of El that's really Will and what he feels.

Mike lives in a loveless and cold family. No he's not in a completely loveless family. Karen loves both her kids and expresses it regularly, and we even see this in season 4 when Karen hugs Mike at the reunion scene. I guess what you might be talking about is Ted and Karen. Here's the fucking thing. Mike knows his parents are not in love. He thinks that's what relationships are supposed to look LIKE. He internalises his family's issues. So, he gets into a relationship like his parents', a loveless one. In season 3 we see him trying to act on logic not emotion, seeing that getting into a relationship like this is just the logical course of action and just part of growing up. That's exactly what NANCY DOES WITH STEVE and yet I don't see people going 'oH shE lOveS hiM sHe jUst nEvEr sEen hEr pAreNts sAy iT!!!!'. We can all agree that she just tried to emulate her parents, but she doesn't actually love him. (SHE EVEN SAID I LOVE YOU OUT LOUD but still can't mean it truthfully). But how about we break this cycle? Breaking cycles of loveless relationships is one of the themes in stranger things so it makes sense for this to happen again.

Maybe he's sad in the Snowball scene because he thinks maybe El will leave him there. He only seemed upset when Will went with someone else and the camera shots literally makes it clear? I have a whole post on this if you want to read it: Snowball Scene Analysis. When El comes in, he doesn't say anything like 'Oh I had no idea you'd be here'. I believe that he knew she was coming, and sitting on that chair, he was conflicted given everything that went on with him that season, the promises he's made to El vs. the way he feels about Will now. The one shot of him looking at her also doesn't make him seem happy, but yeah, take that scene and do what you want with it tbh.

OOF okay thankyou so much for your ask!! This was quite the challenge but it really actually gave me a whole new perspective on things and I really love these asks because it gives me a chance to better understand the show itself <3 Let me know if you're swayed or smth haha or if you have a counterpoint :)

Also thanks for not being toxic. If anyone wants to come and debate with me, do it in this way, because there is no space for negativity and toxicity on my page thankyou very much.

[choccy-milky]

Okay so I read your entire fic in three days and I LOVE IT!? ITS SO GOOD!?! I am supposed to be studying for finals and instead have spent 72 hours definitely not doing that. I originally got into your fic because I saw your drawings from different scenes and OH MY GOD THEYRE AMAZING. The way you draw Seb makes me want to bang my head on the table (in the best way ever)…that boy does things to me. The whole thing is just uGHHH chefs kiss amazing work love it love you amazing

AWW TYY IM GLAD YOU LIKED IT SM (ENOUGH TO BINGE IT AND IGNORE SCHOOL) AND THAT YOU LIKE HOW I DRAW SEB TOO💖💖😍😍😍

LMAOO but fr as a procrastinator and horrible student myself, im pleased with this theme of interfering with ppls schoolwork/thesis/whatever else to read my fic...im dragging yall down with me...just stop using your brain and enjoy sexy seb aha😜 (ILY TOO GOOD LUCK ON UR FINALS)

@jstfndmthngs omg thank you for such a long and in depth ask i hope u dont mind i just screenshotted it and cut it into 2 BAHAHA but THANK YOUU im glad youre enjoying it so far!! 🥹💖AND YESSS BAHAHA IVE ALSO BRAINWASHED YOU TO SEE SEB AND CLORA WHEN YOU SEE A BLONDE + BROWN HAIR COUPLE mission accomplished😈😈 and I LOVE THAT YOU DAYDREAM ABOUT SEB AND CLORA TOO!!! people thinking about your fic/art when theyre not actively reading it is the highest honour fr...😭🙏 AND BAHAHA I REMEMBER THAT COMMENT THREAD ABOUT LEANDER AND HIS LITTLE GARDEN PATCH LMAO and him and seb competing as neighbors/dads over who has the better yard...LMAO im putting in my oneshot that leander lives close by, i might try and find a way to allude to that if i can LMAOO speaking of IM GLAD YOURE LOOKING FORWARD TO THE ONESHOT 💖💖 ive been working on the outline every day the past few days and its 24k words AND THATS JUST THE OUTLINE😭😭LIKE DAWG i was planning on this oneshot to just be short and sweet BAHAHA but i forgot im fluent in yappanese...then i just kept thinking of cute pregnancy moments i wanted to add so it spiralled....BUT ANYWAY I HOPE I CAN FINISH IT SOON!!🙏 also im so impressed you only read 1 chap of my fic a day BAHAHA i admire the self restraint bc i could never...but i feel you with wanting to make things last. LET ME KNOW WHEN YOU CATCH UP!!🥳AND TY AGAIN!!💖💖

omg anon this is diabolical...at first i was imagining it as seb being the one caught in the time loop and going crazy, but i actually think its better if its clora... because the idea of seb watching her slowly spiral into semi-insanity while knowing its bc of some weird time shenanigans and he doesnt know how to help would also make SEB go crazy BAHAHAH. i dont think ill ever write this but i just wanted to tell u i love this idea LOL

aw TYYYYY!!! i’m honoured u think so omg😭🥹💖 you sent this a while ago (before all of the recent family posting ive been doing) BAHAHA so i hope youre enjoying the kid content bc u manifested it girl🥰 and trust me i aint doing work for the fandom, the fandom is doing work for ME!!! by continuing to humour my brainrotted ass😔🙏

"they're my legal parents now" followed by "so anyway can you draw them going down on each other" LMFAOOOOO💀💀💀thank you i love you anon. and i HAVE been wanting to draw this for a while so YES!! i just cant guarantee when...but the day SHALL come rest assured🫡😇

[blingblong55]

Money, Money, Money- 141 X Reader X F1

Based on a request:

Idk if i can put in two requests but please. PLEASE I fucking love f1 Give more cod x f1 I dont care who and what and where, i just need more fics like that Thx for everything bestie(Feel free to ignore) --- GN!Reader, 141 x reader x f1

So I must leave, I'll have to go To Las Vegas or Monaco And win a fortune in a game, my life will never be the same

The fame, the women/men that wanted you to date them, and the adrenaline, are all worth it and all possible if you drive in Formula 1. Twenty of the best drivers in the world, all in ten separate teams, every other weekend for 23 times a year you race around the globe to become the desired World Champion of that season. There was something that was missing, your friends, the military men you met years ago when one got lost and they ended up finding you.

"R/N!" Soap called, running to you for yet another exciting weekend. They were home from a mission and all seemed to be in a good mood. Ghost and Gaz even made sure to bring their caps to support your team. Soap played the role of the boyfriend so other women/men would not bother you. Price made it look like he was your father figure and Gaz and Ghost were always suspected to be your siblings or best friends. Of course, Ghose became loved by your fans, a man who wore a cap and a black surgical mask had become attractive to them. He never cared for it, would sometimes give the camera the bird and soon they learned to never show him again.

The four men had become your luck charm, the drawings of a bar of soap, cap, skull and a bonnie all on your helmet for every race. In a way, they became the second family whilst on the road. It was nice, you got to keep real friends close and have fun and good memories with them.

Soap for some reason played the role of your partner far too well. Suspicions amongst drivers and the media grew as the time went by. Truthfully, if he was your partner, he'd be as supportive as he is now. Maybe even more. Some of the other drivers need police escort whilst all you need is your best mates. Race after race, they would either hear your answerphone or you'd be on screen pointing at your helmet, your four drawn luck charms on it.

This race was one you were looking forward to, the Brazilian GP. All honouring the late Ayrton Senna, the favourite driver in Brazil, Hamilton and rooting for your two current rivals, Verstappen and Sainz. By Tuesday, you met up with Price, he was alone, which was weird. Soap was usually the first hug of the day. "So, where are the rest?" you kindly ask.

"Getting some rest, they had a rough flight." a lie he told that you believed. In truth, they had used this visit for a mission, most people would be focused on the race and that meant they had time to execute some mission. You believed him because the only lie he had told years ago was that they were just pub mates on a weekend out, never that they were trained soldiers who happened to be in the elite military force that is known as SAS. Brutal, strong and agile, that is who they are, not pub mates.

As the day went on, Price disappeared from sight. Instead of the usual welcome lunch they'd have with you, you walked around the paddock, wandering like a child.

Hours went on, but no text or call. Just a greeting from the answerphone, "It's me, just leave a message." But that's the problem, you never left a message, They knew how nervous this race was for you, Soap would always answer but why not now? You needed his usual comments, the banter Ghost gave and the shoulder pats Gaz gave you.

Somewhere in the country, the men executed their mission with absolute perfection. Few bruises and scratches, nothing new except this time they lied to you, if it wasn't for their mission to be in Brazil and your race to be happening at the same time, they would have not shown up. They'd be elsewhere, fighting for a good reason but not visiting you at the track. Gaz felt awful, having to lie to his best friend about what he was doing, even after them confining in you about what they do for a living, they still wouldn't and don't expect you to actually understand their reasoning for not telling you about this mission.

There you were, on the big screen as you answered questions over the best qualifying session you've had all season. They sneak in, trying to pretend like they didn't just kill the enemy and its soldiers.

"A perfect qualifying, what do you say to that R/N?" the interviewer said. You sigh in contentment, "Yeah, well it is amazing to have had such amazing times at each lap, I'm sure the team and I will want to keep these numbers and maybe go faster for tomorrow's race." You say and most of the crowd cheers in agreement. Soap should know but this time around he is lost, how great was your time? Did you go for pole position or are you just in the top three? Gaz definitely feels like a bad friend, not there to actually watch you like he always did.

After each qualifying, you'd greet them, run up to them and hug them but because you thought they weren't there, you just went towards the team and hugged them. From a distance, the men saw you celebrate as if they never existed in your life. It was them who you were supposed to hug, them who you should run up to. Soap was supposed to pat your helmet and you'd complain about it later.

Usually after the hug, you'd greet fans then the usual interviews or meetings with the team would take place. It wasn't until after 8 at night that they saw you again. They learned that you broke a new record for the team. Your speed was impeccable, and they weren't even there to witness such a memorable moment for you.

A/N: I think I went off my original idea to this...sorry

Tags: @agasawit

[twoidiotwriters1]

Chapter 13. Hyacinths

Summary: "Do not let his reaction affect your opinion of him, and keep in mind that not all of us were born to be innately brave."  Masterlist Previous Chapter // Next Chapter Words: 2,518 Listen to: 'Glue Myself Shut' -by Noah Kahan A/N: Currently enjoying my last day on the beach, I hope you enjoy this <3 -Danny

You arrive fashionably late just in time to hear the toast, at first heartfelt thanks to Colin's talent with words, then disastrous after Eloise and Mrs Featherington take over. You hear snickering from across the circle and your spirits plummet as you spot Benedict and Lady Arnold huddled up and joking together.

"That's it, then," you cling to your sister's arm. "Come, Marie, we ought to thank the hostess for inviting us."

Marie follows you, keeping an eye on Benedict and having the privilege to witness how he chokes on a glass of champagne when he sees you. You reach the group holding Violet Bridgerton, Lady Danbury, a dark-skinned man you don't know, the viscount, and his wife.

"Your Royal Highness!" Violet blushes. "I... Good lord, I wasn't informed you'd be in attendance!"

You smile. "I thought as much."

"Oh, Benedict and his lack of etiquette..." she starts, but you kindly stop her.

"I was invited by your youngest. Where is Hyacinth?"

"Hyacinth?" Asks Anthony Bridgerton. When you look at him, he introduces himself and his wife, a beautiful lady of around the same age as Paula. "I do beg you forgive my sister, she shouldn't have—"

"Oh, I think her utterly divine," you interrupt him. "My sister and I love Hyacinth, and we were pleased to receive her invitation—we were longing to have an excuse to leave the castle and see her again."

"Not that your Queen isn't nice," Marie adds. "But... well, she doesn't go out much, does she?"

There are chuckles of agreement before Kate—the viscountess—gestures to the stairs. "You are welcome to join us for our game of charades, but if you wish to greet Hyacinth first, I believe she is somewhere around the upper floors, playing with her brother and other young guests."

"I believe manners oblige us to see our friend first and foremost," you reply jokingly before excusing yourself.

"Once you return, Your Royal Highness," Lady Danbury speaks, giving you a look. "I shall like a word with you, if you can grant me the honours?"

You hold back your nerves, gifting her with a graceful nod. "You may have them."

Marie scoffs once you make your way upstairs. "What does she want, to gloat in her knowledge?"

"She may offer advice," you respond. "She's close to the family, and I'm in need of clarity."

"You have clarity," Marie rolls her eyes. "The man got scared the moment he saw you had control of your desires, and that's that."

"I don't know," you make a face, "it doesn't feel that way, and I know I sin of gullible, but there were things that he... a person can't lie in the ways he seemed genuine."

Your sister frowns. "I don't understand."

"Doesn't matter," you brush it off, hearing the youthful chatter from the hall to your right. "He's with Lady Arnold tonight, I won't get anything from him, so let's focus on having fun."

Benedict is waiting for Tilley to enter the drawing room when Kate approaches from the side. "Did you know your Princess is here?"

Benedict is too fond of Kate to answer with any kind of bite. "Last I checked I owned no Princess. Perhaps you refer to my employer?"

Kate eyes him intently. "Hyacinth and Eloise called her your friend. Gregory was even jealous of your closeness."

"You know they like their fancies," he offers a tight smile.

"Perhaps, but Hyacinth hates to be wrong and she rarely shares information she's not confirmed beforehand." Noticing the weight that seems to suffocate his lively personality, she places a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Is something troubling you, brother?"

He lets out a short-lived chuckle and stares at his drink. "I'm not sure I should speak of it with one of my sisters."

Kate raises a brow. "Have you done something to offend her?"

"I'm afraid so."

"In what way?"

He shakes his head. "In the most foolish way possible."

"Has that something to do with Tilley's attendance this evening?"

"I acted foolishly and committed to the part," is all he answers.

Kate twists her mouth in slight disapproval. "I will not pretend to know even a third of what's transpired, but I can tell you care for the Princess. You Bridgertons are terrible at hiding your emotions."

"We are good at hiding things from one another," he says. "And now that you're one of us, unfortunately, that means I shan't say a thing to you."

"Would you like some advice nonetheless?" She proposes kindly. "She is thoughtful and amicable, I'm sure whatever caused the disagreement can be solved if you are sincere."

Benedict shows her an ironic smile. "Now, sister, the problem with that, is I am too fond of lying."

As you return from the kids's room, Lady Danbury stands on your path, leaning on her cane. "Princess Y/N, may I have a moment?"

You sigh, letting go of Marie and encouraging her to go. "I won't take long." You walk into the drawing room with Lady Danbury on your arm. "If you wish to chastise me, you better do so now that I'm in a good mood, for I won't be as forgiving in a couple of minutes when my attitude sours."

Lady Danbury chuckles, patting your arm. "You have a feisty soul. Queen Charlotte was just like you at your age."

"So was my mother, from what I've heard," you add, feeling rather pleased to share such an important thing with other Queens. 

"A fine woman. Pity I didn't get to befriend her," Lady Danbury hums. "How is your great-grandmother?"

"Still recovering, but all looks well," you inform her. "Thank you for asking."

"And your brothers?"

"They're morality personified," you give her a little grin. "Both are doing well."

"Good..." she lowers her voice. "You know, the Queen's brother asked me to marry him once."

You look at her, sensing where this is going. "Oh?"

"I said no, obviously, and it wounded him, though just a little, for royal blood is hard to bruise," the woman glances at you. "I wasn't cut out to be a consort. Too independent, you see. Too defiant. Some may say unreliable."

You sigh and lower your gaze. "Lady Danbury, I did not mean to insult you..."

"This isn't about me, child," she cuts off with a sharp click of her tongue, "I only mean to give you some perspective on how that Bridgerton boy must be feeling."

You look at her as if she's gone mad. "You think I asked him to marry me?"

"Of course not, you're not dimwitted!" She exclaims. "I do believe, however, that you might've spooked him. Royals have little tact, having no experience being snubbed or ignored, your attitude when approaching certain delicate subjects is... too forward."

You frown, unable to argue with her. You had, after all, pounced on Benedict at the first chance you got. She senses your agreement to her statement and continues.

"I know you are an intelligent lady, so I won't worry about the kind of things that may have occurred, or what you may have told him to ruffle him so—and to see Benedict in such an agitated state is rare—but hear this: he is fond of you. Do not let his reaction affect your opinion of him, and keep in mind that not all of us were born to be innately brave."

She gives your hand a gentle pat before parting. Not even a second has gone by before someone else walks up to you to start a conversation. "Lady Arnold," you greet her, unable to hide the surprise in your voice. Your heart threatens to leap out of your chest but then subsides when you notice she's alone.

"Your Royal Highness," she smiles. "What a lovely surprise. It is not common for future monarchs to attend this kind of party, I'm sure you know."

You let out a bashful chuckle. "So I've heard. The truth is that we are quite social in my country, we attend all kinds of events, more so if a friend invites us, and I was invited."

"By Benedict?"

"His sister Hyacinth. I don't know if you know her?"

"I'm afraid not."

"Well, I'd be surprised if you did. I was rather lucky, you see, she's not out in society yet, but she's a lovely lady and Benedict brought her to me once so we could meet."

Tilley hums, nodding appreciatively at your explanation. "You've grown rather close to his family, if Lady Whistledown is to be believed at all."

"In that, she is quite correct," you concede. "The Bridgertons were the first family to offer me friendship."

"Benedict, first and foremost, correct?"

You sense there is something else to the question, and you think back on that first meeting and how hostile the interaction was between the woman and Benedict. "You seem troubled by the idea. May I know what's so strange about it?"

"Well, it's not that Benedict isn't charming enough to befriend a princess," she starts politely, "forgive me, but what baffles me is how... protective of you he is."

You tilt your head in confusion and laugh a bit. "Protective?"

"I know him well," she continues, "Benedict is a... friendly man, yes. Quite loving if you manage to decipher him—but I'd never seen him act the way he did that day, when you tripped." You blush at the memory. "Usually he gets his fun from watching the chaos unfold from the sidelines, but not that time."

"I'm sorry, I don't think I understand what you're telling me..."

"Not much, really," Tilley admits, with the openness of a woman who knows her chance has come and gone. "I'm telling you he's decided that there's something in you worth troubling himself with. The spotlight you carry everywhere you go, he tends to detest it, yet he clings to you. I'd recommend you to cherish it."

"You know," you say, unable to keep your countenance any longer. "I don't understand why I'm the one being cornered this way when I was not the one to walk away. Lady Arnold, I don't know what he may have told you—"

"He didn't tell me anything," she hurries to clarify, reddening at how you're reacting to her good-natured attempt to help. "I do beg you not to resent him for my boldness. I came to you simply because I know my friend, and ever since you walked in tonight he has been nothing but a most pathetic rendition of woe."

You look away a moment, trying to spot him. "Yes, well, it was entirely his doing."

"I have no doubt," she responds with such certainty you focus on her once more. "There was a time in which I, too, thought I had him. But Benedict, he..." she gives you a tired smile, "well, he had just discovered himself and was eager to dive deeper into those uncharted waters... places I could not follow."

You feel like there is something hidden between those lines, something you should care about deeply, but whatever it is, Lady Arnold doesn't share enough for you to fully grasp it.

Hell breaks loose when the Viscount and Viscountess announce they are expecting, then Cressida Cowper announces she's Lady Whistledown, and lastly, Penelope Featherington faints without warning.

Your sister goes to fetch a doctor accompanied by Anthony. Colin and Lady Danbury's brother carry Penelope to a couch, while Cressida is swarmed up by guests as they all get escorted to the exit by Benedict and Tilley.

Eloise takes her younger siblings to their rooms while Francesca walks her suitor to the front gate. Lady Danbury makes sure the family is all right before taking her brother and departing, not without asking if you'd like a ride, but you decline politely, wanting to wait there for your sister.

While Colin, Violet, Lady Featherington and Kate stay with Penelope, you go to the servants and ask them to bring salts, though you preferably request strong liquor if they have it, and they quickly go away to fetch it. Kate walks past you letting you know she's going to check on the younger Bridgertons and asks if you'd like to come, but you decline the offer once again, wanting to be there when your sister shows up.

Benedict ensures everyone has gotten to their carriages safely and in one piece, including Lady Arnold. He reenters the home, sees you at the foot of the stairs pacing from one side to the other, and ponders whether he should approach you. 

A maid calls for you and you point her in the direction she ought to take the bottle of gin. Just then, you catch movement out of the corner of your eye, spotting Benedict near the entrance. It's just the two of you here, everyone else tidying up the home while tending to Penelope. You wait a second, wondering what he'll do.

He bows. "I'm sorry I didn't greet you sooner, Your Royal Highness."

You frown. "You could try saying something believable."

"Beg your pardon?" He matches your expression.

"You could've said 'I'm sorry I missed an evening of your mishaps'—which by the way, weren't many. I almost tossed a chess set into Gregory's fireplace when I went to say hi, and then elbowed a flower vase while conversing with your sister Eloise, but that's it. I do not believe you're sorry for keeping your distance."

Benedict stares at you, then scoffs, an unwilling grin forming on his face, crooked and small. "I'm sorry you missed Gregory wearing a top hat, then."

"Ah, that I believe," you offer a tiny smile of your own. "Thank you. I'm sorry you and I seemed to be on opposite sides of the sphere this evening. But I was well-accompanied nonetheless, I'm sure you'll be happy to hear that."

"I am," he moves closer to you, "I saw your sister."

"I told you she wouldn't say no, and she'll be glad she didn't, considering the chaos we witnessed a few minutes ago."

"Yes, wasn't that something?" He agrees, picking up his pace to reach you faster and gossip properly. "I do not believe for a second Cressida Cowper is Lady Whistledown, that woman is as witty as a fish!"

You grin, unable to resist him. "Dolphins are rather clever."

His eyes flash with excitement at your slip. "I said fish, not mammals."

You open your mouth to argue, but realizing he's right, you close it back up and lower your gaze, a little reticent smile on display. "Touché."

Benedict tilts his head, searching to lock eyes with you. "Not every day you get outwitted in your own game, hm?"

You lift your gaze, finding his only inches away from yours. Benedict freezes, realizing he's too close but unable to step back because your eyes demand him not to. You lean forward, listening to the way his breath hitches—

"We're here!" Marie calls out as she and Anthony return with the doctor. "Where is she?"

Benedict is already ten steps away when you look up. "Upstairs, in the drawing room," you step forward. "I'll take you."

"No need, Your Royal Highness," Anthony says, giving you a grateful nod. "You should go back to the castle and rest, you and your sister have done much for us already."

"I'll go and say our goodbyes to the family," Marie gives you a significant look, which can only mean she saw what was happening just before entering, and she'll demand a retelling of the entire interaction. "You can fetch our carriage."

"I'll fetch it for you," Benedict says quickly, walking out of the house once more. This time, you follow.

Next Chapter –>

Taglist.

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[merakiui]

MERA IVE BEEN HAVING THIS THOUGHT AND I THINK YOURE THE RIGHT PERSON TO SHARE IT WITH BC ITS SO PERFECT FOR THE TWEELS 😭

A long time ago, back when i was a teenager and still a wattpad girly, I read this one really good story called "Family Comes First" about a family of cannibals that lives in the middle of nowhere. They only keep boy children who are born, no daughters. Whenever a boy turns a certain age (I think 21 but I cant really rmbr), the father goes out to the nearest city, interviews girls under the guise of offering them a job, and kidnaps the best one as a birthday gift and bride. The mother-in-law teaches the new girl how to be a good wife (cleaning, cooking that strange meat, etc.), and the husband is otherwise responsible for his wife, to the point of selecting and laying out her clothing every morning. The ultimate honour is to birth a son, and so the husbands are CONSTANTLY trying to get their wives knocked up. I can't help but imagine Jade and Floyd in a story like this, it suits them perfectlyyyyy

In the book, one of the boys ended up catching feelings for brother's wife (the main character) instead of his own, and it causes fights serious drama in the family. This works so well with the recent ideas about Jade stealing Floyd's cute little wifey except it would be even better for them because they're twins and Jade can pull all his nasty tricks 😭 maybe when she finally gets knocked up with a son, they won't know who it belongs to, because he looks just like his daddy, but the potential daddies look the sammmeee OTZ

Oh oh oh and imagine if reader tries to escape and the family decides to let her try. Let her have fun. Hell, they even join in on the fun. She was blindfolded when they brought her and she's never been out of the house before, so she doesn't know her way around the woods, whereas the men in this family have been hunting humans for sport and food in these woods for generations. Now she's lost in the dark forest with daddy leech and the tweels rapidly closing in on her. She's going to be taught a lesson after they drag her home. After all, she lost the game, and losers never get rewards >_<

OHHH!!! Omg that concept is perfect for the tweels!!!! And they would absolutely draw out the chase in the forest just to scare you even more. Maybe then, after spending an entire day and night being hunted like a wild animal, you'll learn your home is with them. There's no point in running from your family, after all.

Hehe running from the three of them and you injure yourself, so now you're even more panicked because what if they can smell the cut on your leg? What if they can hear your pained grunts as you drag yourself along, limping through the forest? >_< omg and it doesn't matter who finds you; it's going to be frightening either way. Floyd who drags you out of your hiding place by the ankles, or Jade who stands over you as he patiently waits for you to take notice of him. Or Papa Leech wrapping you up in big, strong, scarred arms to carry you back to the house. Maybe you're kicking and screaming all the way, and it's useless to struggle because there's no one else out here for stretches. Just you and your family, who care so very much for you. You should be grateful! Mr. Leech's sons fight over you to be named your husband. Aren't you lucky to have the two of them? Most of all, aren't you lucky you're alive and not on their murderous menu?

AAAAAA and Papa Leech picks your clothes for you going forwards! They were far too patient and lenient with you before, far too forgiving. Now you're living under a new schedule, a fresh set of rules. Your clothes are selected for you, and your meals are prepared in advance (gone are the days in which you were given choices; each meal is healthy and has properties meant to boost your fertility). When you aren't learning to be the perfect housewife, you're getting bent over every possible surface and bred by the twins. Or if the twins can't behave, then maybe Papa Leech ought to knock you up instead........... thinking thoughts.

In conclusion, the entire family is crazy and you're stuck with them forever. orz

[kittysarchive]

Hii! :3

I don't know if this is accepted but I recently lost my cat to cancer which I've had for 10 years. Would you be able to write about how ot7 would comfort y/n who lost their beloved pet?

hiiii, of course you can ask for this! sorry for your loss :(

assuming this is for enhypen

Heeseung

Heeseung found you sitting on the balcony, the chill in the air matching the cold ache in your heart. You hugged your knees to your chest, lost in thought. He walked over quietly, sitting beside you.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice filled with concern.You didn’t respond immediately, but that didn’t deter him.

“I know it hurts right now,” he continued, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “When I lost my pet, it felt like the whole world stopped. Like nothing could ever fill that void.”

His words surprised you, drawing your attention. “You lost a pet, too?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. Heeseung nodded, a bittersweet smile on his lips.

“Yeah. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever gone through. But you know what helped? Remembering the good times.”

“Thank you, Heeseung,” you said, your voice trembling but sincere. He smiled, pulling you into a hug. “Anytime. I’m here for you.”

Jay

Jay found you sitting at the kitchen table, staring blankly at a cup of tea. He could see the grief weighing on you, and without a word, he sat across from you.

“I’m here,” he said simply, his voice steady and comforting. You didn’t respond right away, but when you finally looked up, tears filled your eyes.

“I feel like a part of me is missing,” you admitted. Jay nodded, his expression serious but kind.

“That’s because they were such a big part of your life. It’s okay to feel this way. It just shows how much you cared about them.”

Jay encouraged you to talk, asking about your favorite memories with your cat. As you shared stories, his thoughtful questions helped you remember the joy your pet had brought into your life.

Later, Jay excused himself and returned with a small box. Inside was a plush toy resembling your cat.

“I thought you might like this,” he said, his cheeks slightly red. “It’s not the same, but maybe it’ll bring you some comfort.”

Tears streamed down your face as you held the plush close. “Thank you, Jay. This means so much.”

He spent the rest of the evening with you, cooking your favourite meal and sitting by your side. “You’re not alone in this,” he said before leaving. “I’ll be here for you, no matter what.”

Jake

Jake found you in the living room, staring at your cat’s collar in your hands. The sadness etched on your face broke his heart. Being an animal lover himself, Jake understood the depth of your pain. He walked over and sat next to you, his presence warm and reassuring.

“I know how much they meant to you,” he said softly, “They were family, and it’s okay to feel this way. It just shows how much you loved them.”

His sincerity made your eyes well up with tears, and you whispered, “I feel so empty without them.” Jake nodded, his expression gentle. “It’s hard. Pets are special—they’re there for you when no one else is, and they love you unconditionally. Your cat knew how much you loved them.”

Jake stood up and gestured for you to follow him. He led you outside to the garden. “I thought we could do something to honour them,” he said, handing you a small packet of flower seeds.

“Let’s plant these together. Every time they bloom, you can remember the happy moments you shared.”

As you knelt together, planting the seeds, Jake shared stories of his own pets, making you smile through your tears. By the time you finished, the garden felt a little brighter, and so did your heart. “They’ll always be with you,” Jake said, squeezing your hand.

Sunghoon

You sat on the couch, clutching your cat’s favorite toy, tears streaming silently down your face. Sunghoon entered the room, his usual composed expression softened with concern. Without saying a word, he sat down beside you, his presence calming. After a few moments, he gently asked, “Can you tell me about them?”

His question opened the floodgates, and you found yourself reminiscing about your cat’s quirks—the way they’d always nuzzle your cheek or chase shadows on the walls. Sunghoon listened intently, nodding and occasionally smiling at the stories.

“It’s clear they loved you just as much as you loved them,” he said softly.

Later, he disappeared into his room, returning with a small wooden frame. Inside was a picture of your cat he had printed from your social media.

“I thought you’d like to have this,” he said, placing it gently in your hands. Tears welled up again, but this time, they weren’t as heavy.

Sunghoon stayed with you the rest of the evening, his quiet presence a source of comfort. When you finally drifted off to sleep, the framed picture sat on the nightstand beside you, a reminder of the love that would always remain.

Sunoo

Sunoo didn’t say anything at first when he saw you crying in your room. Instead, he sat down beside you, tears already brimming in his eyes. “I’m so sorry,” he said quietly, his voice trembling with emotion. “I know how much you loved them. They were such a big part of your life.”

Hearing his empathetic words made you cry even harder, and he didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you.

“It’s okay to let it all out,” he whispered, his own tears slipping down his cheeks. “They were family, and it’s hard to say goodbye.” Once your sobs subsided, Sunoo grabbed his phone.

“Let’s look at some cute pictures and videos of them,” he suggested, a small smile breaking through his sadness. Together, you scrolled through your photo gallery, reminiscing about your cat’s playful moments and their loveable quirks.

“That one!” Sunoo exclaimed, laughing through his tears at a video of your cat chasing a laser pointer.

“They were so full of energy!” His laughter was contagious, and for the first time that day, you found yourself smiling.

Jungwon

The house was quiet, but the air felt heavy. You sat curled up on the floor, staring blankly at an empty corner where your cat’s bed used to be. Jungwon found you there, his heart sinking at the sight of your slumped shoulders. Without hesitation, he sat beside you, close but not too close, respecting your space.

He didn’t speak right away, giving you time to process. When you finally whispered, “I miss them so much,” his eyes softened, and he nodded.

“I know. Losing someone you love, even a pet, feels like losing a part of yourself.” His words were simple but comforting, like a warm blanket on a cold day. He encouraged you to share memories of your cat, asking,

“What did they do that made you laugh the most?” Slowly, a faint smile broke through your grief as you recounted your cat’s antics—like the time they jumped into a box too small for them. Jungwon laughed along, his genuine reaction lifting your spirits.

A few hours later, Jungwon handed you a folded piece of paper. “I wrote this for you,” he said shyly. Inside was a heartfelt note: “Even though they’re not here anymore, the love you shared will always stay with you. They’ll always be a part of your heart

You hugged him tightly, tears streaming again, but this time, they felt lighter. He stayed by your side, determined to help you heal, one small step at a time.”

NIKI

Ni-ki didn’t know what to say when he saw you sitting silently on the edge of your bed, holding a photo of your cat. He hesitated for a moment before walking over and sitting next to you. “I... I’m sorry,” he said awkwardly but sincerely. “I wish I could make it better.”

You looked at him, your lips trembling. “It just hurts so much,” you murmured. Ni-ki nodded, his usual energetic demeanour replaced with quiet thoughtfulness.

“I know it’s not the same, but when I moved away from my family, I felt really empty, too. It’s hard to lose someone—or something—you love.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small plush keychain. “I know it’s not much, but I thought this might help,” he said, handing it to you. It was a tiny cat plush, its soft fur similar to your pet’s. “I saw it earlier and thought of you.”

The gesture brought fresh tears to your eyes, but you smiled. “Thank you, Ni-ki. This means a lot.”

Ni-ki spent the rest of the day with you, distracting you with video games and jokes. Whenever he saw your sadness creeping back, he’d nudge you and say, “They wouldn’t want you to be sad, you know. They’d want you to remember all the fun you had together.”

[historygirlie]

I am really intrigued in the way you draw the Greek gods. You have some sort of unique style that catches my eye! Like from what I have noticed from your art is that you have really changeable clothing for each one. Like Apollo’s dressing changes from one type to another keeping the original design though. Also am I delusional or do Hermes and Apollo have the same necklaces (like they both have necklaces with waves in them?)? And if I am being correct Apollo has wings too? Why did you choose to do that so? Also in your two pieces drawing for the Ithaca saga realise didn’t Telemachus, Odysseus and Penelope have the same bracelets and if my brain is working isn’t Telemachus’ dressing colour the mix between Penelope’s light purple and Odysseus blue? I went in such a deep rant I love your art!

HOLY MOLY THATS SOME DEEP ANALYSIS THERE HUN!! I never thought someone would look in so deep to my work I am honoured 😭😭. As for answering your questions yes you are correct the designs for the gods’ clothing does change and that depends on what are they doing and who they are meeting. So like the most obvious design I have right now is Hermes. In this picture:

(which is totally epic) he is dressed in a mission so like he has a job to do as a messenger god. (Also bro trusts his skirt WAYYYY too much)

Yet in my more casual designs like when he meets Ody (or when he is twerking in that animation I posted) he is dressed simpler to emphasise that he has a more close to humans side like in the case of the design I did:

As for the necklaces yes it is true Hermes and Apollo have the same ones. They matched and in fact the story for that is a bit interesting. I though that since Hermes tried to steal Apollo’s cattle, Apollo made Hermes swear to not try and trick him and so they have the necklaces so they do not lie to one another (yet Hermes finds a way to twist the truth EVERY time). The earrings in the meantime are something every god has (it depends then on their preferences to keep them or not). The same goes for the tattoos (they are basically carved to their skin so each time they use powers they show). Hermes has snake tattoos, Apollo has like little arrows. Usually it is their respective animals that decide that.

Apollo’s wings on the other side symbolise his sacred animal: the crow. They seem white but in the dark they are actually black. Hermes has wings since…he has to fly man. Apollo’s wings are smaller than Hermes and one of them is actually half ripped out.in a drawing I did his wings are like they were in the beginning before they were ripped out from a reason I won’t tell y’all 😈. (I’d like to see ur theories for it). Oh and also one of Apollo’s suns in the halo he has is actually broken. Again y’all can theorise.

As for the two part drawing I did yes the bracelets and the clothes were intentional. The bracelets were to show the family had something that unified them and made them a family. Odysseus though doesnt have his anymore though since yeah the trip was bad. And the colours of their clothes are as you said mixing together. Also a detail in the second drawing is that all of their clothing’s colours are darker symbolising growth and maturing, also pain and suffering of being torn apart.

ANYWAYSSSSSS I yapped a lot but I hope I answered all your questions!

[purplepeach333]

The prey

Paring: Feyd x reader

Warnings:none

Word count:1k

Summary: tossed into the lions den lady y/n has to make it through her most unfortunate situation. Soon to be wed to the Na-Baron, seeing the Harkooens cruelty first hand and how everyone fears them, will y/n come to terms with her fate or will she fight it?

~Part 2~

A vast shadow covers the sky, the sound of an ornithopter's wings hovering above draws me from my thoughts, as the fremen gather outside along with my brother and mother. I hang back for a moment calming my nerves and clearing my mind then step out from the security of the large cave.

Making my way to my mothers side I catch a glimpse of the inside of the flying beast. It seems unoccupied, I turn to my mother confused but she does not bother returning a glance focusing her attention on the lowering aircraft.

Once the ornithopter lands on the sand, Jessica approaches to welcome the Harkooens on their arrival but from inside only a single man steps out, his shoulder slumped and his figure thin and fragile, the man looks around his pale face almost becoming paper white. Jessica stops in her tracks “what is this!” She questions looking between the pale man and the aircraft “where is the Baron and his nephew?” She demands

The man reaches slowly into his inner pocket of his unusual outfit, I see Paul’s hand move to his blade as he watches the man closely. Nothing but a small piece of parchment is revealed as the man unfolds it pulling it formally in front of himself, clearing his throat he starts “the Baron apologises for not being able to attend this event himself but he his glad you have finally accepted the offer for your family’s to be brought together and the Baron would like to reassure Lady Jessica that Lady y/n will be in safe hands on her journey to us and during her time with us” finishing the man folds the parchment back up placing it back into his pocket.

“This is ridiculous!” Paul claims angrily stepping forward “mother you can not accept this!”

Jessica simply lifts her hand to silence him, looking back at me “y/n you will go and honour the arrangement” she states her piercing eyes almost daring me to challenge her word.

Seeing no way out I nod in agreement before turning to Paul smiling at him reassuringly, but all he gives in return is an apologetic frown.

—

Finally landing I see three figures waiting at the top of a stairway, immediately recognising Feyd Rautha standing on the left side a larger old man in the middle “the man in the middle he is the Baron, yes?”I ask the man as he helps me off the aircraft “y-yes” the man stutters almost shrinking even more in there presence,turning to close the large door of the aircraft the man whispers “please lady y/n be careful what you say or do in the there presence” before walking away leaving me there feeling like a mouse under the gaze of predators.

Standing straight and confident, I make my way up the long and wide stairs, Jessica had been training me for this my whole life, I would be safe and alive as long as I did not let fear take control ‘fear is the mind killer’.

—

Finally reaching the top of the stairs slightly out of breath and in a worse mood than I had started. The Baron is the first to greet me “Ah Lady y/n, you’ve had a good trip I hope apologies for not coming personally to escort you!” The Baron cries out in a tone of forced joy, being pleasant and welcoming clearly isn’t the Barons strong suit, anyone could see the falsehood behind his manner of kindness.

“Of course Baron, I understand you must be a very busy man.” I reply a similar but much more carefully crafted forced sense of care and joy in my expression.

From the corner of my eyes I can see Feyd Rautha the Na-Baron eyeing me down like a prize his just won, refusing to pleasure him with my attention I ignore his burning gaze

“Well come, come till our departure back to Giedi Prime you will be staying with Feyd in his room, I hope you don’t mind” the old man’s annoying voice breaths out almost as if he’d been gasping for air while speaking

Stunned and internally panicking I look at the Baron confused “but sir Baron. That is not allowed, you know this.” I state

“Do not question me!” His voice rings out loud and directly

My body’s instincts push me to jump back but I refuse standing still and tall “apologies Baron it was not my intention to question or anger you I was merely confused-“ cutting me off the Baron starts floating away without a care, his older nephew trailing behind him.

All I can do is stand, unsure what to do till I feel the Na-Baron's large hand grip around my forearm as his body stands uncomfortably close to mine “shall we” his distinct raspy voice breaks the silence as he pulls me along.

Walking down the sad and empty halls of the Harkooens' large residence, still unfortunately stuck within the Na-Barons grip, eyes wondering every room I pass curiously, the Baron not far ahead of us.

The thought of having to share a room with the Na-baron making my stomach twist uncomfortably. Hoping his duties would keep him busy enough to be left alone for as long as possible. Whilst in tangled thoughts I feel a pull on my arm as I realise Feyd stop suddenly, seeing the Baron turn to us “you here” he calls out to a young looking servant girl walking past as she comes to a halt turning towards the Baron her eyes on the floor “take Lady y/n to get a proper fit of clothes” he ordered, slipping out of Feyds grip I silently nod following the girl.

Once we’re a safe distance from the Harkooens I look at the girl thin, pale and bald like everyone else, her big doe eyes dark and tired looking, her feminine features painted with fear. I glance around quickly before speaking “what is it like on Giedi Prime?” My voice low and soft, “i-it” her voice shakes “it is alright you are free to speak as you please in my presence” I reassure her “It… it is not an easy place for most” she mumbles barely audible “hm, yes I’ve heard”.

—

Stepping out in my new gown feeling strange being out of my sand suit after so long, my dress, simple but elegant, a dark shade of black, small dark gems around the chest, reaching just above the floor. “Thank you, it’s beautiful!” I smile at the servants who fitted me, turning to view myself in the three mirrors in front of me. The room silent but peaceful. I let myself breathe for the first time since my arrival amongst the Harkooens.

The dim lit room decorated with grim colours feeling a little uneasy, “is this how every room is presented” I sigh to the lady’s behind me getting not a single response “great..” I breath out stepping down from the small platform

“I’ll be leaving now, good day” I dismiss myself from the room. Closing the door behind me “this place is ridiculously huge, I’ll never find my way.” I mutter to myself turning to my left and making my way down a deserted hallway.

The thought of running out into the desert and disappearing forever becoming dangerously tempting as I glance out a window into the vast sand seas. “Thinking of fleeing little bird” a raspy familiar voice behind me approaches, “of course not Na-Baron I wouldn’t dare let a thought like that cross my mind” I answer him erasing any expression from my face, he circles me like a shark “they’ve spared no expense on you have they little bird” a sly smirk forming on his lips

“Well I am here to be show off aren’t I, the bene Gessrit finally getting what they want and in doing so giving your uncle a new toy to brag about'' i reply standing straight and unfazed by his presence, “you think you’ve got everything figured out have you?” Feyd steps closer, his eyes blue and unfortunately for me quite pretty.

“Feyd!” A loud masculine voice rings out from the head of the corridor, Feyd visibly annoyed but not removing his eyes from mine “what do you want Glossu?” He shouts back “uncle is demanding your presence brother” Glossu yells back his shoulder broad “”I’ll see you tonight little bird” Feyds eyes stay on mine a moment longer before he turns storming down past his brother, wondering what horrible idea his got distracts me from the man walking up to me “lady y/n allow me to escort you to your room” Glossu approaches much kinder than the Na-Baron “yes, thank you” I smile thankfully to him as I follow his lead down the labyrinth of corridors.

Tag list:

@avidreader73

@mamawiggers1980

[camisoledadparis]

THIS DAY IN GAY HISTORY

based on: The White Crane Institute's 'Gay Wisdom', Gay Birthdays, Gay For Today, Famous GLBT, glbt-Gay Encylopedia, Today in Gay History, Wikipedia, and more … January 11

1755 – Alexander Hamilton, 1st United States Secretary of the Treasury (d.1804); One had to wonder what the current occupants of the White House would think if they knew of the ruckus caused a couple of centuries ago by Alexander Hamilton and George Washington, the American patriots who became the first secretary of the treasury and president, respectively. George, whom everyone knows had no children of his own, surrounded himself with a circle of young male revolutionaries who he called his "family." Among his favorites were John Laurens, who once fought a duel to defend George's honor sullied by some cad now lost to history; and Alexander Hamilton. George was thought by his enemies to be a bit soft on the boys and was suspected over being overly fond of young Hamilton in particular.

While in Washington's service Hamilton befriended a group of other young officers, with one of whom, John Laurens of South Carolina, he had a particularly close relationship. When the two were apart on separate assignments, they exchanged affectionate letters. In September 1779, gently chiding Laurens for not corresponding as often as he would have liked, Hamilton wrote, "like a jealous lover, when I thought you slighted my caresses, my affection was alarmed and my vanity piqued."

Between 1779 and 1782, Hamilton and Laurens exchanged a series of love letters, reprinted in Jonathan Katz's Gay American History, in which Laurens addressed Hamilton as "'My Dear' and offered flowery protestations of undying affection, to which Hamilton responded with the touching declaration: "'I love you'." To this day the letters are explained away on the grounds that 18th century men "were classical scholars whose thoughts and actions were colored by the grandeur of antiquity."

Despite the prestige of his appointment on Washington's staff, Hamilton wished to serve in combat like—and perhaps with—his friend Laurens. Using the pretext of a minor disagreement with the general, Hamilton requested and received a transfer in February 1781. The incident left no hard feelings on either side.

Hamilton and Laurens participated in several military campaigns together later that year but were again separated on August 15, 1782, when Hamilton wrote to his friend, addressing him as "My Dear Laurens." Looking beyond the successful conclusion of the war, Hamilton suggested that both of them should be members of the congress of the new country. "We have fought side by side to make America free, let us hand in hand struggle to make her happy," he wrote in a letter ending, "Yours forever."

It is doubtful that Laurens ever read this letter, for he was killed in a skirmish on August 27. Upon hearing of his friend's death from Major General Nathanael Greene, Hamilton wrote back that he felt "the deepest affliction at the news," adding, "I feel the loss of a friend I truly and most tenderly loved."

Файл:Bojidar Karageorgevitch — Википедия

1868 – Prince Bojidar Karageorgevitch (d.1908), Serbian artist and writer on art, was a member of the Serbian House of Karaorđević. He was a world traveller. He gave singing and drawing lessons and later earned his living as an art critic and translator. He was a contributor to the Encyclopædia Britannica, Figaro, La Revue de Paris, Revue des Revues, Magazine of Art, and other publications.

Prince Bojidar lived in France for most of his life as this family were in exile. Bojidar travelled a lot and went on a number of trips around the world. He served in the French Army and fought in the French campaign at Tonking and was decorated with the Cross of the Legion of Honour. To earn a living he gave singing and drawing lessons before becoming a translator and journalist

During one of his trips abroad, he travelled extensively around India, visiting thirty eight cities. He wrote a book about his experiences called Enchanted India in which he offered an account of the Indian people, their religious rites, and other ceremonies.

He was drawn to the cabarets of Montmarte, the haunt of artists, writers, poets, philosophers. It was there he met and befriended French stage actress Sarah Bernhardt, pioneer of modern dance Loïe Fuller, French poet, novelist and noted orientalist Judith Gautier, Suzanne Meyer-Zundel, Austrian composer Hugo Wolf, painter and illustrator Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, and founder of the Ballets Russes Sergei Diaghilev.

His lover was painter Jules Bastien-Lepage, fourteen years his senior, who predeceased him when Prince Bojidar was only 22 years old. The artist, long ailing, had tried in vain to re-establish his health in Algiers. He died in Paris in 1884. Prince Bojidar, was with him at the end and wrote,

"At last he was unable to work anymore; and he died on the 10th of December, 1884, breathing his last in my arms. At his grave's head his mother and brother lovingly planted an apple-tree, which every spring showers down its wealth of pearly petals over the last resting-place of the great master whose loss we all mourn."

1950 – Rick Bébout is best known for his role in The Body Politic collective in the 1970s and '80s, and for his writings then and since on gay life in Toronto.

One of thousands who had fled to Canada from the United States during the Vietnam War, in 1977 Bébout joined a small group of Toronto lesbian and gay activists who were publishing The Body Politic, a 'gay liberation journal' that had soared to prominence both in Canada and abroad.

Particularly interested in design, he brought the resource-poor publication to an astonishing level of graphic sophistication, while also contributing to its unique voice by writing in its pages.

But his interests extended well beyond sexual politics. Like many other refugees who have settled in Toronto, he was passionate about the city that had embraced him, editing in 1972 The Open Gate: Toronto Union Station, a book that helped prevent the destruction of the iconic building.

Despite his interest in mass politics, he was intensely private and writing was the medium in which he conducted much of his life, particularly in his later years. Notably, he carried on a decades-long correspondence with novelist Jane Rule. (Their letters are being prepared for publication by a US scholar.)

Living with HIV since the mid-1980s, Rick suffered an apparent stroke on June 4, 2009, and died on June 10, 2009, of HIV-related illnesses.

1962 – Today's the birthday of Welsh politician Chris Bryant. Born in Cardiff, Wales. He studied English at Oxford University and theology at Rippon College, Cuddesdon.

Bryant is openly gay, but he was ridiculed in the press when he was discovered to have a Gaydar profile featuring pictures of him wearing only underpants, whilst an MP. In an interview with Attitiude magazine he later described the incident as 'very, very, very, very unpleasant ... I didn't sleep much for about three months.'

Chris Bryant's "Gaydar" picture.

He later appeared looking very buff in swimming trunks at a parlimanetary swimming fundraiser.

In early 2010 Bryant 'married' his partner Jared Cranney in the first civil partnership to be held in the Houses of Parliament.

1972 – Chad Donovan is an American performer and director of gay pornographic films. He has won numerous awards as a performer and director, and is a member of the GayVN Awards Hall of Fame and the Grabby Awards Hall of Fame.

Donovan was born into a Southern Baptist family. His rigid religious background and sexual precocity led to experimentation at an early age. "My first experience with a guy was about eight, just playing around and fingering buttholes. We probably didn't even get hard." Donovan's large endowment prompted teasing from his classmates as he reached puberty. "Through high school I had a difficult time because I had to change clothes for gym and stuff. I nearly failed gym class because I didn't want to change clothes. I got made fun of. Plus, not to mention, I hit puberty at ten. So all these little boys were bald as a peacock and here I am, full out baby's arm holding an apple."

Donovan was introduced to the gay pornographic industry by performers Chase Hunter and Tony DeAngelo. They worked as strippers at a 1470 West, a gay bar in Dayton, Ohio where Donovan was bartending. "We were kind of fucking around, having threeways occasionally. They took pictures of me, sent pictures all around," he recalls. Gay adult studios Catalina Video and Falcon Studios showed interest, and Donovan chose to work for Falcon. He was eighteen years old.

Donovan earned a $2,000 scene rate for his first movie. "When you're a kid living in Ohio, that's a lot of money. And a trip to San Francisco for three days. I did the one scene and two photo layouts. It was fantastic. What more could you ask for?" He filmed the scene with Hunter Scott and Anthony Moore. The scene was released by Falcon in 1994 in the film "Workin' Stiff." Donovan went on to film roughly 50 titles as a performer over the next decade.

In 2001, Bob East of Men of Odyssey broached the idea of directing. "He asked me if I'd be interested in directing. He said I seemed to have a good knack for finding talent, I've been in the industry long enough, why don't I try putting a movie together? So I did." That film was titled "Movin' On," and it was during production that he met and began a relationship with cast member Antonio Madiera, which continues to this day. "I had no intention of getting a boyfriend out of it. I hired the kid, I really liked the way he looked, he performed like a champ, and every time I looked down—when I wasn't even shooting him, I'd be shooting other boys in a scene—he'd be looking up at me with these puppydog eyes. I just couldn't resist."

Donovan's final onscreen sexual performances (as of December 2007) were in 2004. One of those films, "Studs 'N Pups" for MSR Videos, was the first time he and boyfriend Madiera performed together. Madiera continues to act occasionally, usually in films that Donovan directs. In 2007, Donovan helmed Basic Plumbing 3 for Falcon Studios; the film starred Chase Hunter and brought them back together 16 years after Hunter introduced Donovan to the industry. Although essentially retired as a sexual performer, Donovan occasionally appears in nonsexual roles. His early roles remain in circulation as they are continually repackaged into compilation tapes.

1974 – Max von Essen is an American stage and screen actor, and vocalist.

Raised on Long Island, von Essen is a graduate of South Side High School in Rockville Centre, New York. He attended the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, and after graduation toured with Liza Minnelli. He is a member of the Von Essen family, who are part of the German and Swedish nobility. A son of Rita and Thomas Von Essen, who was the New York City Fire Commissioner during the 9/11 terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center, he is the youngest of four children. He is openly gay.

He toured Europe in West Side Story and was a cast member of the U.S. national tour of Chicago. He made his Broadway debut in Jesus Christ Superstar in 2000 as Disciple and Jesus of Nazareth understudy. He appeared in Les Misérables on Broadway as the replacement for Fauchelevent and other roles, and starred in Dance of the Vampires alongside Michael Crawford in 2002. He played the role of student revolutionary leader Enjolras (replacement) in the Les Misérables Broadway revival in 2006 at the Broadhurst Theater.

In 2006, he was a soloist at the biggest Andrew Lloyd Webber musical gala to date, held in Tallinn, Estonia. He performed in the national tour of Xanadu as "Sonny" in 2008[8] and in the Roundabout Theater Company Off-Broadway production of Maury Yeston's Death Takes a Holiday at the Laura Pels Theatre in 2011. In 2015, von Essen played the role of Parisian aristocrat Henri in the Broadway production of An American in Paris, for which he received a Tony Award for Best Featured Actor in a Musical nomination.

Max von Essen is now a star of the off-Broadway play “Yours Unfaithfully,” and lives with his partner, Daniel Rowan, in a Hell’s Kitchen duplex.  

Dylan Rice at the OUT Music Awards

1976 – Today is also the birthday of American singer Dylan Rice. He graduated from Northwestern University in 1998 (where he studied poetry) and now lives in Chicago. In 2004 he released an album called Wandering Eyes.

In July 2006, Dylan, who is openly gay, performed his stadium-rock anthem "The Faces of Victory" for 20,000 people at the Gay Games Closing Ceremonies at Wrigley Field in Chicago, joined onstage by Styx bassist Chuck Panozzo, and backed by a chorus of Chicago LGBT rockers. Written especially for the Gay Games, the song was also recorded in the studio with Panozzo, released as a single, and was highlighted in the official Gay Games VII commemorative DVD in December 2006.

For more information about Rice, visit his website at www.dylanrice.com Under the "Music" tab you can even download some of his songs.

1984 – The Wall Street Journal allows staff writers to now use the word "gay" as a synonym for "homosexual" in article and headlines.

2008 – It was reported on this date that the Socialist mayor of Paris, Bertrand Delanoë, had been given increased police protection after US security services informed their French counterparts that he might be attacked by terrorists. While monitoring internet traffic related to Al-Qaeda the CIA discovered that Delanoë was listed as a target. As mayor of France's biggest city he is the most prominent gay politician in the country.

[sharksupermacy]

backstage

backstage - sana x yoo! reader

synopsis: apparently your sister didn't tell everybody about you

genre: fluff, reader being terrible at directions, confusion, reader is a 98' liner, not nayeon being a little bit delusional

it was nice attending an american university. new friends, different culture, even a fun new language to learn. you were attending harvard for your doctorate in archaeology. you had always loved the discovery of things even when you were very young having those little dig kits when you were a kid.

remembering how after a successful "dig" your mom would always yelling at you when you had end up making a mess in the living room. even when one of your sisters had time they would take you to the local park with you having a shovel and bucket in hand trying to find the buried treasure in the sand pits.

you had formed a bond between all four of you were all tight knit, cheering each other and beaming when seeing their dream being achieved. when your eldest sister had made her actress debut in i love lee tae-ri all of your family gathered in the living room watching the episode debut. or when your entire family showing up when jeongyeon had been announced to make her debut in twice, your elder sisters faces all covered in tears when holding up the banners you had all made. you just smiling at your confident older waiting for the other announcements of other members. even your second eldest sister when she had graduated all your sibling had attend even you who had school during that time but nonetheless you were all there supporting one another.

it was the same when you had told your sister you were going abroad to america to go to havard on a partial-scholarship. facetiming your eldest sister and nayeon who was with jeongyeon when you broke the news to both of them. all of them supporting your decision to go abroad to study archaeology making you promise to them that you would return every summer to visit them.

you would always your honour your promise with your family always returning every summer for two months. you had even gotten your work visa in the us, allowing you to get a job at a local skate shop wanting to not just rely on your family money in the us.

so when your sister had annouced that she was going on tour in the usa you knew that you just had to go. so when the concert dates and locations dropped you found out the nearest one which was the just 3 hours away. so like any reasonable person you decided to use some of the money you had earned the year prior before to buy VIP tickets to your sister concert and then tell her you couldn't go.

suprise, suprise, your sister was dissapointed to say the least but she had understood. however the shock on her face after realizing that you were standing in the front row and had tricked her into believing that you were not going was worth it. you weren't really revealed to the public, so it wasn't really a shock that barely any of the twice member knew you as you were never presented the option to meet them that much. but the other member you enjoyed going into shock was nayeon as you and her were close to her often meeting with her and jeongyeon to go shopping when you were in korea.

as the concert was drawing to the close each member had a speech dedicated at the end the ones that had resonated with you the most was sana saying how hard it was being away from home and grateful she was surrounded by people who helped her. then of course, your sister speech about how grateful about how onces and even one of her siblings could join her today as she had face of gratefulness looking out to the audience in your direction. the onces around you had started looking around as you pulled out your camera to take a picture of your sister crying for blackmail later.

soon the concert had ended and the audience slowly filed out you sat there because you had received a text from your sister telling you to wait at your seat so that a manager could get you. you talk and chatted with the security guard when there was very few people left just mainly clean up crew, and 2 or 3 people still waiting to get into a line. you see manager-unnie approaching you telling the security guard you had go and thanked him for being so chill to let you stick around for a bit longer.

manager unnie was another person who knew you as she had seen you multiple times while dropping jeongyeon and nayeon off at cafe to meet you. she told you to take off your pass and handed you a new staff one as you both chatted about random things while heading down to the change room. waiting outside the room for a bit while the manager-unnie went in to check if it was good to come in. coming back out to invite you in, the person you see is jeongyeon with her arms wide open as you hugged her with nayeon seeing the both of you and hugging you.

"uh... mind to explain what is going on here manager unnie," sana whispered wondering why two of her member was hugging and crying into a random staff.

"oh! did jeongyeon never told you? thats y/n her sibling." manager unnie said a bit confused as she had thought jeongyeon had told the entire group about you.

"wait the abroad one?" jihyo stated a bit louder than she intended getting the other member attention who were on their phone only realizing that there was a stranger hugging thier member.

"yep. have you guys never met her before?" manager unnie turned around at the other twice members who she knew was listening. half of them turn away from sheer embarrassment of being caught but still shook her head to respond no. but sana no she looked back at the two oldest seeing jeongyeon crying into something she hadn't seen very often. huh. she's pretty. was the observation sana had made seeing two of her members crying into the taller frame.

the two removed themselves from y/n finally deciding they had enough of hugging the younger. "guys, this is my sibling who studies abroad y/n," she said as she pointed in your direction, making you wave towards the 7 pairs of watching eyes.

"she's my sibling too," nayeon started trying to start a fake argument with jeongyeon as both yoos laughed at the statement as nayeon pouted.

the older members dragged y/n towards their members, both knowing that if they wouldn't do it, their sibling never would.

you were pulled toward the person who drew you in the most.

"hey, i'm sana," were the words she had said.

"i'm y/n," you smiled back towards her. then there you found the missing treasure: who knew your sister was hiding you from her and vice versa.

a/n: just a short one this time. THE WAY THAT FUNNY VALENTINE ACTUALLY HAS A GRIP ON ME. anyways, i might post some angst soon...

[askrobouteguilliman40k]

Aboard Macragges Honour.

Sho'kah stands naked in her private chamber, thankful that Lord Guilliman gave her a place to conduct the rituals of her chapter. Standing on hot coals, she holds her arms to her side as another enters the chamber. All Salamanders have one, a brander priest, they who's job is to mark the marines skin in honour of shame.

Her brander is special to her, related by blood, they are day and night compared to each other. Her skin ebony black from the hyperactive melatonin gland, his pale from Nocturns ash wreathed skys, her body a slab of gene enhanced muscle, him slim.

"Great nephew." She nods as he rests his brand in the near by brazier, heat rolling off the coals, heating the metal.

"Great aunt." He says in reply, nodding his shorn head as he takes the heated iron out, moving around to look at her back, her skin a tapestry of burn scars, detailing her service in the chapter, the priest takes the brand to her skin and starts dragging it across her flesh as he worked, drawing a symbol across her flesh, an honour granted to her from Lord Guilliman himself, a winged ultima below her left shoulder blade.

Sho'kah stands stock still as he works, chanting the linaties of the prometian creed, her eyes half closed as he finishes up, taking a hand full of ash, he rubs it into the brand to make sure her marine biology scars rather than heals.

She bows her head to him, stepping off the hot coals and grabbing a simple robe, sliding it over her body. "Thank you again my blood."

He places his now cooling brand on a near by rack, smiling. "It is an honour to serve my lady."

She can not help but smile, a flash of ivory in her black face, he had been her brander for over twenty years, like his father before him, always polite to a fault, despite being family, there was a wall between them, one she long ago gave up trying to breach. "Go, rest and eat, it shall be a while before I call upon your services again."

[yaminerua]

I’m offering pen-and-paper sketches in exchange for proof of donation to Palestinian gfm campaigns and/or donations to reliable organisations that will provide aid, esims etc.

The more we can help nudge up these urgent campaigns to help people the better!!

For more examples of my pen-and-paper sketches check out my #nerua doodles tag

Here’s how it works:

🔴 Make a donation (whatever you can offer, any amount however big or small is better than nothing at all!!) to a Palestinian family’s campaign, or one of the many reliable organisations providing aid, e-sims etc.

A quick non-exhaustive list of useful links you can use to donate:

Operation Olive Branch - Spreadsheet of many, many gfm campaigns tracking how much is needed.

This Tumblr Masterpost - Lists a good number of fundraisers, some of which are close to completion, and others which need much more boosting

GazaFunds - If it’s overwhelming trying to choose who to donate to, this page generates a random campaign each time for you

GazaEsims - Buy an esim to keep Palestinians connected in Gaza. Be sure to send the QR code screenshot to their provided email address and don’t activate the esim yourself!

CareForGaza - A non-profit charity providing aid to Gaza. Donate to their PayPal

UNRWA - Donate directly to UNRWA to support their operations in Gaza

Palestinian Children’s Relief Fund - Donate directly to PCRF to support the children in Gaza

Gaza Municipality - Donate to help improve water, waste management and sewage treatment conditions in Gaza

(other Palestinian family gfm links I’ve come across will be added under a cut at the bottom of this post, please check them out too and feel free to add any others you have seen to reblogs of this post!)

🟢 Take a screenshot of the receipt/proof of donation you receive once you’ve completed payment to prove that you have paid your chosen amount

⚪️ Message me your screenshot proof of your completed donation/payment to whichever campaign/organisation you chose along with what character(s) you would like a sketch of (be sure to let me know the fandom in case it’s not one I’m familiar with. You can drop a reference image along with your donation screenshot to be sure!)

⚫️ I’ll draw up the sketch for you as soon as I can to thank you for donating!

All donations of any size will receive a drawing, but be advised smaller donations will be quicker and less detailed/refined than larger donations.

Donations below $20 will receive a bust or waist shot. Donations $20 and over will be full body

Up to 3 characters available per sketch at any amount

I’ll draw for most fandoms, but here are a few I’m pretty familiar with: Red Dwarf, BBC Ghosts, Good Omens, JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure, YuGiOh, Pokemon, Tokyo Mew Mew, Cardcaptor Sakura (any CLAMP work tbh), Mob Psycho 100, Osomatsu-san, Naruto

I’ll also draw OCs if you send good references for them!

My usual commission/request limitations apply: No gore, NSFW etc

Bear in mind these function like character requests and aren’t as specific as full commissions, though I will try to honour general requests for what you would like from your sketch!

🚨🚨 Do NOT send ME your money!! Send it directly to the campaigns/organisations!! 🚨🚨

Please share and donate whatever you can if you are able to. And as always keep boycotting, protesting and talking about Palestine 🇵🇸

And remember to add your daily clicks too!

Some more gfm links below the cut ⬇️⬇️⬇️

[flyingspacewhale93]

Jing Yuan/AFAB!Reader pregnancy headcanon

CW: Pregnancy, childbirth, some spicy kissing but otherwise its sfw (Also might be a bit OOC but men crying is hot af)

No Beta I decided to yeet this out into the world

Word Count: 732

From the minute you announce your pregnancy to Jing Yuan he never leaves your side. His lips trail up and down your stomach. “My seed… your eggs...are creating new life.” He says in a reverent tone as tears fill his eyes. “It's a miracle.”

He is obsessed with the child growing inside of you. He reads pregnancy articles on his phone practically every night. “Look, from the minute our DNA joined cells have been growing and dividing inside you. They all joined together to create a little creature the size of a  small berry.” He kisses your stomach. “Even human fetuses can briefly grow fur and tails while in the womb.”

When that little creature causes you morning sickness, Jing Yuan is right by your side. “Easy, sweetheart. This trial will help our child grow.” He brings you a cup of water and a damp cloth for your face afterwards. “Your body is so strong for being able to support two lives at once.” 

“I don’t think I’m strong. I can barely smell food without puking most days.” You murmur weakly. “Just when will I be able to eat again?”

Jing Yuan is strict about your diet for the good of your baby. He has the medical staff recommend you the best prenatal vitamins and only cooks what would be healthy for them. Spicy foods are forbidden, a fact that makes you grumble. However when the pregnancy cravings arise, he lets you have whatever you wish within moderation. He constantly  checks the list of safe foods every time you are hungry.

“For such a lazy general, you sure monitor our health better than I do!” You joke.

“It is the duty of a general to make sure that his army is prepared for the battle ahead.” He smiles.

“It’s a battle to convince you to let me eat unhealthy food once in a while.” Your hand rests on your baby bump. “Still, I can’t believe our child is growing so fast.”

When Jing Yuan sees your child on the ultrasound and hears their heartbeat for the first time, he cries. He goes to every medical appointment with you and listens intently. When you do your exercises to prepare for labour, he helps you through them. Sometimes birds land near you while you work out and Jing Yuan lets them perch on his hand.

One night, you wake up crying from a bad dream. He sleepily places his arms around you as you sob. “I-I dreamed I-I grew fat and ugly and you didn’t love me anymore! You had them give me the ‘husband stitch’ and now I woke you up and made you sad!” You wail, tears falling down your cheeks.

Jing Yuan shushes you. “Sweetheart, being able to enter you is both a privilege and an honour. You don’t need to be tight for me to enjoy you. As for your body, well,” His lips draw close to your ear. “I find it even more sexy by the day.”

He marvels at every new change your body goes through, making sure to kiss every mark that he finds each night. “These marks remind me of rivers.” He murmurs. “Indeed, it's like I’m staring at a topographical map of you.” A devious smirk crosses his face. “Where would be a good spot for the general to attack? Here, or here?” The noise you let out from his kiss proves to be a direct hit.

Your baby gets read to everyday by him, often when he’s busy babyproofing the house. He recites stories seemingly off the top of his head. He wants your baby to grow up well read and compassionate.

“I wonder what our baby would choose for their path.” You say.

“No matter what they choose, I’d love them all the same.” He says.

When the Big Day finally comes, Jing Yuan is all action. He grabs the overnight bag that you two made together and races off to the medical center with you in his arms. He holds your hand through every contraction, humming little songs as you prepare to push. Jing Yuan is used to long sieges so he’s always alert. He encourages you to push strong and hard for his family. Finally, the baby takes their first cry and he smiles serenely with tears in his eyes. Jing Yuan whispers “May you be a thoughtful, strong leader.”