#but the officials.....I WILL SEE YOU IN COURT!

[romanteacism]

A Butterfly and A Dragon’s Flight Chapter Three

Chapter Summary: New members and revelations come to the court, making the prince quite curious. Word Count: 5, 212 Warnings: Jealous Aemond, Bullying, Confusion

It had officially been half a moon since the Tyrells had arrived in the capitol, and all four of them had established a new routine as they resided in the walls of the Red Keep. Elinora had finally returned to spending most of her time in the gardens, often spending the morning with Princess Helaena until she was whisked off to her royal duties, leaving the girl alone. It did not bother her; she was used to being alone with only her butterflies as her companions. Elinora also had not encountered Prince Aemond after their tense conversation in the library, and she was relieved for it. She was starting to fear him if she were being honest. She was not certain how someone could be so cold and callous as he was, which is why his absence made her feel somewhat at ease. 

Aemond, on the other hand, had avoided the gardens as best he could. He finally regained his sensibilities as he realized how ridiculous and foolish he had been for following the girl, who he now remembered was an intruder. His sympathies toward her dissolving. He was being irrational as he avenged Lady Elinora against those court women, only making her more comfortable as he had scared away those who threatened her. If anything, he should have let the ladies continue on with their torment, and he would have been absolved of Lady Elinora altogether, no longer having to worry about the possible threat she posed. Though as he thought of letting her be attacked in the den of vipers, he felt a hint of guilt at his thinking.

Aemond went on his way to his usual routine, going to the tiltyard at first light. However, as he walked the halls of his home, he had the urge to venture into the gardens. Aemond pursed his lips at his urges, his jaw ticking as he willed himself to forgo his ridiculous wants. As the prince stepped foot in the tiltyard, he frowned as he saw who was present. “Brother?” He questioned as he saw the short silver locks of his younger brother, Daeron. “Aemond!” The youngest prince exclaimed, going on to greet his brother with a hug. Aemond accepted it stiffly, as he was never accustomed to being touched. 

“What are you doing here?” Aemond asked, seeing that his uncle, Ser Gwayne, accompanied his brother. “It’s Mother’s Name Day by the week’s end; I thought we should come and surprise her.” The youngest prince smiled and finally let go of his brother, who only stood solidly before him, Prince Aemond turning to his side to give his uncle a knowing nod. “Good to see you, Aemond… I see you still take your training seriously— you make a great knight.” Ser Gwayne commented, and the prince hummed. “I have no wish to be a knight.” He answered, and Ser Gwayned and smirked. 

“Come, I shall escort you to Mother’s chambers,” Aemond stated, turning around as he ventured to return to the royal wing. “I shall join you momentarily; I’d best visit the hand first,” The two princes gave the nod and went on to the direction of their mother’s chambers. Walking along in silence as there was a tension that came when they had not seen each other for so long, or perhaps it was a silent tension that followed Aemond wherever he went. 

Daeron parted his lips to try and speak pleasantries with his brother, but the sight of light green skirts caught his attention. “Elinora?” He called through the hall, making Aemond halt and the lady turn in question towards the familiar voice that called her name. “Daeron!” She said in surprise, and the youngest prince hastily made his way to her, forgetting all customs as he practically ran, picked up, and twirled the girl he had known since childhood. 

Elinora laughed in glee as she was spun off the ground, but as she caught the distant sight of Prince Aemond, she made the mirth in her die quickly and motioned for Daeron to place her back to the ground, clearing her throat as she was caught being entirely informal. 

“I—I thought you weren’t coming to the capitol,” Elinora said, a bit nervous as Prince Aemond stomped his way toward where she and Prince Daeron stood. “Well, we have been set to come for my mother’s name day, we just did not want our surprise to be known.” Prince Daeron exclaimed, and Aemond observed as the lady’s eyes widened. “We? Is Ser Gwayne here?” Elinora asked, looking around the hall, making Aemond curious as he saw and heard the excitement in her eyes and tone. “Well, of course. He is somewhere around the keep; I’m certain he’ll find his way to you,” Prince Daeron smirked knowingly, and a pretty blush was quick to creep up the girl’s cheeks, making Aemond’s curiosity severe. 

Elinora nodded and averted her gaze away from the princes, turning towards the gardens to hide the burning on her cheeks. She must admit, she had fancied Ser Gwayne since she was a young girl. The knight was always so gallant and kind and generous. He always brought the girl sweets whenever he was near Highgarden and entertained her during boring galas. But Elinora was well aware that her attraction towards the knight was and will always be one way, forever upholding his honor, which is ironically what Elinora found the most attractive quality of his— that and his face. 

“Well, I must be going— good morrow, my princes.” Elinora curtsied and tried to return to her way, but Daeron was quick to take hold of the girl’s hand, preventing her, Aemond raising a quizzical brow at his younger brother’s actions. “Nonsense, walk with us, I have not seen you in so long.” Daeron smiled and pulled lightly on the girl’s hand. “It’s only been a fortnight, Daeron,” Prince Aemond finally spoke, and Elinora could only give a sheepish smile in the direction of Prince Daeron. 

“Come now, tell me all your happenings here in court,” Prince Daeron urged and removed his hold from the girl’s hand and instead intertwined their arms as he often does as they stroll along the gardens in Lady Elinora’s home. Aemond walked a few steps behind them, irritation quick to bloom in him as he realized how truly familiar they were. It seemed worse than he thought, not only had Elinora nestled herself to Helaena’s side, but it would seem she had long been connected with Daeron. 

Aemond’s jaw ticked as he heard quiet laughs leaving the girl’s lips. Not once had she moved away from Daeron’s hold— only threading to him closer as his brother lowly whispered something to her, making Elinora’s blush deepen and make her laugh further. 

When they were nearing the royal apartments of the queen, Elinora’s laughs died, but her smile still remained but was only pointed at Prince Daeron, seemingly forgetting the presence of Prince Aemond. “I better go, brother was waiting for me in the gardens.” She informed, and Daeron’s brows raised. “You should have said! Edward is always one for punctuality; I’m certain you would not want another of your brother’s scolding,” The prince remarked, but Elinora smiled and shook her head. “I’m certain he’ll forgive me if he comes to know that you are here,” She smiled, and Aemond wanted to roll his eye. 

“Very well then, perhaps it’d be best if you wait for me then… what is a few more minutes more of tardiness if I am to save you already,” Daeron suggested, and Elinora tried to find a reason to delicately disagree with the prince’s suggestion, but she could not find the words so she could only force a smile and give a small nod. That was a bit of a dilemma for her, she was too shy and timid to disagree with almost everyone, unless in the very rare occurrence where she felt extremely strongly about the subject, like the instances she had with Prince Aemond. But besides that, she would only give a forced smile and agree to things she would rather not do. 

Elinora went to the side as Prince Daeron entered the queen’s chambers, and Elinora waited for Prince Aemond to follow suit, but he only stood outside with her. Elinora blew on her cheeks, not certain if she should speak to the prince that unnerved her. “You are quite… close with my brother,” The prince remarked, his feet once again carrying him closer to the girl. Elinora’s hands were placed on her back and from there, she nervously twiddled with her hair as the prince’s attention was on her once again. 

“Well, I’ve known Dae— Prince Daeron for years… often seeing him every weekend as he flew his dragon near Highgarden,” Elinora explained, and Aemond raised a brow at how truly familiar they were with one another, the lady who was a stickler in holding formalities, letting go as she addressed the younger prince without his royal title. Aemond hummed as he threaded closer to the girl who did not meet his gaze. “So you two are friends,” The prince stated, and Elinora nodded,  “Just… friends? Nothing more?” A confused frown quickly overcame Elinora’s face as the prince uttered the words. 

“Pardon, my prince?” She asked, and Aemond breathed in deeply, the scent of lilac and bergamot finally enveloping his senses. “We’ve heard reports that my brother was calling upon a lady… however, we never came to know her identity or who she was… is it you, my lady?” Aemond asked boldly, making Elinora’s eyes widen. Aemond smirked at the shock on her face. There were no such reports. He only thought of the lie at that moment because he was curious about his brother and Elinora’s closeness. 

“I… I have not heard of anything of the sort, my prince— and if Prince Daeron is courting a lady, I assure you it is not me.” Elinora replied, still shocked by how suddenly and shameless the prince asked her the question. Aemond smirked, thinking of another question to fluster the girl. It was so easy to do it! It was easy for him to put her in shock or surprise, to have a blush creep up her cheeks and have her jade eyes widen. 

“And why is that?” He questioned, still inching closer to her, who was nearing the stone wall. “Pardon?” She asked again, and Aemond’s smirk widened. “Why is my brother not courting you?” Elinora blinked a few times to comprehend the prince’s words, Elinora could sense he was enjoying making her feel unnerved, the smirk on his thin, pink lips only widening with each moment passed. She licked her lips, “Prince Daeron is not courting me because I am already betrothed.” Her answer made the smirk on Aemond’s lips slip away quickly. Aemond was rendered frozen, him now being the one who tried to comprehend the words uttered. 

Elinora stared at him, surprised as he looked quite perplexed. He did not move nor speak, and Elinora was quick to grow concerned and slightly offended. Was she truly that disagreeable in the eye of Prince Aemond that her revealing that she was betrothed had rendered him shocked? Elinora wanted to pout at the thought. She was ready to call for his attention, but the sound of a door opening and Prince Daeron calling her name made her disregard the thought, only curtsying quickly before Prince Aemond and stepping to the side to finally let Prince Daeron accompany her to the gardens. 

“You’re late, sister.” Edward sighed heavily as he heard the familiar footsteps of his sister, his eyes upon the book he read as he waited for Elinora. “Apologies, Edward. I stumbled upon Elinora and urged her to wait for me,” Prince Daeron was the one to reply, and Elinora smiled at the surprise on her brother’s face as Prince Daeron assisted her to her seat. “Dae— Prince Daeron! We did not know you were to come,” The prince greeted and stood, a quick pat on the back between the two was exchanged. “I thought it’d be a nice surprise.” Prince Daeron answered and sat across Lady Elinora, his violet eyes going around the gardens, questioning where his older brother had gone. “Had you come alone?” Lord Edward questioned, and before the prince could reply, a voice that was all too familiar spoke. “Of course not,” Ser Gwayned answered, his eyes catching the large smile that overcame the lips of Lady Elinora. 

Aemond observed from above the gardens as the four of them interacted, watching as Lady Elinora looked completely smitten by his mother’s brother. Was there truth in anything she had said? Was she truly betrothed? And if she was, to whom was she betrothed to? And why would she look so besotted by his uncle? The prince sneered and walked off, now remembering why he had avoided the girl the past days. There was always a weird pattern in his chest when she was near; it was as if he was out of breath and his skin crawled. And worst of all, he could not control his tongue. Aemond was always known for his cold, eerie silence, but whenever the girl was around, he could not pacify himself and stay silent. He always thought of something to say to her. That was quite a troublesome development for the prince. 

“To whom is she betrothed to?” The one-eyed prince was itching to ask his sister as he uncharacteristically joined her for tea the following morning. Two tots ran around the table they sat upon in the gardens, and the chirps of birds were accompanied by the cries of a babe. Helaena had been waiting for their younger brother, wanting to introduce Daeron to her children, though she was surprised as she was suddenly accompanied by Aemond. 

“Sister! Apologies for being tardy,” Daeron finally arrived, and his arm was Lady Elinora, her butterflies trailing the both of them. Aemond doubted further the statement of the girl that she was betrothed, especially as he once again saw firsthand the closeness she and his youngest brother had. Surely, her betrothed would frown upon such intimacy, even if it was only a social intimacy. He certainly would. 

“Good morrow, your Highnesses,” The lady greeted and curtsied before the prince and princess who were already sitting in the gardens. “Good morning, Lady Elinora. I’m glad you could join us,” Princess said softly, with a smile on her face even though the babe in her arms was wailing uncontrollably. 

“Well, this isn’t the welcome I expected from my nephew,” Prince Daeron remarked as he once again assisted Elinora to her seat. “I’m sorry brother… Maelor often has crying fits that we could only hope he could grow out of,” Helaena apologized, and Daeron shook his head. “No need for apologies, sister; I was only jesting.” As the words left the youngest prince’s lips, a butterfly strayed closer to the face of the crying babe— the insect’s fluttering and colorful wings effectively distracting Maelor. His cries died down as he stirred in his mother’s hold. His grubby little hands tried to reach for the butterfly that came with Lady Elinora. 

Elinora smiled fondly as she saw the once-saddened eyes of the babe turn excited as all of his attention was turned to the insect. Aemond, on the other hand, pursed his lips as his sister and brother were quick to commend the lady whose butterflies effectively ceased the cry fits of his nephew. 

As the day progressed, Aemond accompanied his brother in the tiltyard to train just as they often did in childhood. Daeron was speaking of his ventures in Oldtown, and Aemond could no longer restrain himself from asking the question that had been bugging him since yesterday. “So this Lord Redwyne… is he Lady Elinora’s betrothed?” Aemond slyly asked, forcefully making his tone cavalier and uncaring as Daeron shared the dances he partook in Highgarden with Lady Elinora always being present. 

Daeron frowned, “Oh gods no.” He said as his brother raised his brow. “Then who is?” The prince questioned. “I… I actually do not know— neither does she. Only her parents and brother know, but they refrain from revealing the name of the lord until she is of age. They only constantly remind her that she is to be bound to another, which is why she was never allowed to be courted by the lords.” The youngest prince informed, but it only served to confuse Aemond further. 

“I remember a distant cousin of ours was so taken and in love with Elinora that when he came to find that her hand was already promised to another, he vowed never to marry and instead joined the brown brothers. To this day, none has heard him speak again… only hearing distinct mutters of incoherent words as he prayed in the sept.” 

Aemond’s frown deepens. Throughout the past few days, he thought he had come to know all that was there in regard to Lady Elinora. He thought her to be quite simple, just a sheltered, naive lady of a noble house who was too weak with kindness. However, now, he is coming to realize that she is perhaps an enigma— a mystery that she herself cannot answer. 

“I’m glad you have taken well to court,” Aemond heard the voice of his uncle, and he quickly turned just to see Lady Elinora accompanied by Ser Gwayne. Elinora could only force a smile, not wanting to utter the truth of how the court had welcomed her. “And my nephews… have they proven to be genteel and honorable?” Elinora could only blink at the question. 

With the limited interactions he had with Prince Aegon, all she had gathered from it was she did not wish to be in the presence of the eldest prince, who made her skin crawl and her insides filled with uncertainty and dread. Prince Aemond, on the other hand, was… was… Elinora could not even find the words to describe the second-born prince. He was a mystery— a riddle that she could never figure out. 

The lady only smiled further at the knight, who seemed pleased enough to see the grin on the girl’s lips. He always had a soft spot for Lady Elinora, seeing her as less than a noble lady but more like his younger sister, whom he could never bond with as she was taken to court and he had to stay in Old Town. 

“Will you stay to watch me and my nephews train?” The knight softly asked, glancing towards the two silver princes, an eye already observing them. “I— I’m sorry, but I must go; I’m to spend time with my mother.” Elinora said with a sad smile, and Ser Gwayne gave a nod, “Well, let me escort you then; I can—“ Elinora quickly shook her head, “No, you’re already here; I can go by myself.” Elinora insisted, not wanting to inconvenience the knight who had been so kind to her ever since she was a child. “My, look how independent you have become,” Ser Gwayne teased, and Elinora laughed and shook her head. “Good day, Ser Gwayne,” Elinora curtsied before returning inside the castle walls. But before she could enter, she caught the lilac eye of a cold prince who looked upon her calculatedly. 

When Elinora sat with her mother in her chambers, she was made to do her embroidery, a hoop, and a needle in her hands. Her mother was sat across from her, Lady Tyrell’s back turned against the fire, a scripture book in her hands as she read the holy words for her daughter. “Shun all forms of sexual immorality. For every other transgression that a man shall commit is external to the body, but he who indulges in such immoral acts sins against his own flesh. Know that your body is sacred and that you have received it from the gods.” 

Elinora blushed at the particular scripture her mother decided to recite. It was quite scandalous! The girl thought as she awkwardly cleared her throat and readjusted her posture. “You must always bear this in mind, my darling…” Lady Tyrell warned, and Elinora nodded fervently. “Yes, mother, I know. I must guard my virtue for my husband— he shall be the first and only one to have it,” Elinora answered, this particular teaching instilled in her mind ever since she had her first blood. 

“Good,” Her mother smiled, satisfied by her daughter’s words and the embarrassed blush on her cheeks, which sedated her fears that a deviant might have corrupted her precious daughter’s innocent mind. “I must advise you to be wary, Elinora… the court is… is not the most suitable environment for a young lady. Men and their depravity lurks in each corner… I urge you to tell me or your father or brother if any dares to take advantage of your kindness and innocence.” Elinora’s brows furrowed slightly as to what her mother was implying, but Elinora still nodded, though she was not quite certain what Lady Tyrell meant. 

Her mother let out a breath of relief and turned the page of her scriptures, but before she could begin to read aloud another verse, Elinora spoke. “Mother… might ask— it’s just—“ Elinora stuttered, as her mother looked upon her expectantly. “Who is my betrothed? You and father and brother always say that my hand has been already promised, but I am still to know who he is… who am I to marry?” She asked delicately. 

“We have discussed this, my darling. You shall come to know and meet your betrothed when the time is right,” Lady Tyrell stated their mantra to avoid telling Elinora more about her betrothal. “But when is that?” She asked, pulling the needle through the cloth. “Patience, Elinora. We have always taught you that patience is a virtue… why do you forget? You shall come to know all of it in time, but for now, you must exercise patience.” Her mother warned, tone growing harsher and stricter with each word. “Yes, of course, mother, I apologize,” Elinora quickly said, lowering her head as she stepped beyond bounds. Lady Tyrell gave a nod and continued on to recite the scriptures. 

Aemond pursed his lips as it was nearing sundown, and he realized what he had done the whole day. Ever since his training with sword ended at noon, he had been going from maester to maester to question them about a particular betrothal. Each betrothal and union in the kingdom had to gain the blessing of the king or, in recent years, the small council. The maesters had a list of those betrothed, altering them when the couples had been married or if their betrothals had dissolved. 

“Why do I even care?” The prince questioned himself as he held a ladder to stabilize it as a maester tried to retrieve a scroll from a high shelf. “Which house was it again, my prince?” The maester asked, dust cascading down as he pulled up on the neglected scrolls. “Tyrell.” He stated, tapping his foot in impatience. He was past the point of no return now; he had spent half the day invested in the betrothal of a girl that he could not stand. 

“Ah, here we are,” The maester stated and slowly climbed down the ladder, testing further the prince’s patience. As the old man’s feet were firmly placed on the ground, he fidgeted with the scroll, and the prince had to stifle down his urge just to grab the declaration from the wrinkling hands of the man. 

“Lady Elinora of house Tyrell… daughter of Lord Benjamin and Lady Charlotte Tyrell, betrothed three moons after her birth in the ye—“ The prince’s jaw ticked, “To whom, grand maester?” The prince almost bit out. The maester was silent for a moment as he finished reading the scroll. “It does not state whom, my prince. The name has been shaded off.” Aemond frowned and snatched the scroll from his hands. “How is that possible? That is not allowed! It must state to whom she is betrothed; why would the king sign this declaration?” Aemond said in severe irritation. 

“Well, the king did not sign the declaration; it was your grandfather, the lord hand.” The maester informed and pointed towards the seal of his grandfather. “If you wish to know further about the lady Elinora, you must ask the hand, I’m afraid this is as far as I know, my prince.” The maester said, and Aemond stared into his milky eyes to see if he told the truth, he did. Aemond nodded and rolled the scroll once more before hiding it in his pocket. 

The prince walked the halls to return to his chambers and be absolved of his foolishness— to assess and have a talking with himself for his actions. Just as he reached the royal wing, he saw the reason for his ridiculousness. Ironic, wasn’t it? There he was, calling the girl ridiculous for showing love for a mere butterfly, but he just spent a great amount of effort to know who she was betrothed to— she, a girl he completely abhorred. The gull they have to put her, a mere lady, in the royal chambers!

“Good evening, Your Highness,” Elinora quickly curtsied as they passed, her gaze avoiding him as she tried to fasten her steps to return to her chambers quickly. Aemond, on the other hand, paused and thought of just asking her the answer to the question that had been pestering in his mind. But he could not just blatantly ask her the matter of her betrothal. It would make him look like he cared, which he didn’t.

“You lied.” He suddenly stated, his voice echoing through the empty halls. He heard the sound of footsteps seizing, and he watched as Lady Elinora stopped in her tracks and slowly turned to him. “I’m sorry, my prince?” Elinora questioned, “You should be. It is considered treason to lie to a prince,” Aemond said as he threaded closer to the girl. “What? I—I have not lied,” Elinora defended, a deep furrow in her brows as her fingers fiddled with her hair in nervousness. 

The prince scoffed. “There you go once more, another lie.” The prince stated, ticking his tongue in disapproval. “I do not know what you mean, my prince— but I assure you, I— I tell no lies,” Elinora said, trying to make her voice sound firm, but Aemond could still sense nervousness in it. “Good,” He thought. It was always easier to gather information from people who were filled with nerves.

“You said you were betrothed… but there is no truth to that, is there?” Elinora’s lips parted in shock and confusion. “Wh— but I am betrothed, I did not lie… why would I lie about such a matter?” She questioned with a slight tilt of her head, her hair cascading down her shoulders, which momentarily caught the prince’s attention. The way the dark auburn curls swayed with each and every little movement she made. 

“I do not know… perhaps you are embarrassed— desperate. Having to lie to a prince just to fulfill a fantasy in your little head,” Elinora was often confused, but only in the presence of Prince Aemond did she feel utterly clueless. She could never understand what he said, his actions, or his mood. He was unpredictable, and Elinora did not appreciate that. She never liked the unpredictable; it only made her nervous and antsy.

“I do not appreciate your accusations, my prince— what I say is the truth, but very well, believe what you wish,” Elinora said, growing a bit of courage as she was losing patience in trying to be cordial with Prince Aemond. Aemond raised a brow at the sudden change of attitude in the girl. 

“Hm, very well then, try to convince me that you say the truth.” Aemond crossed his arms across his chest as he peered down at Lady Elinora, her scent of lilacs and bergamot surrounding his senses once again. “How?” The prince hummed and shrugged, “Tell me your betrothed’s name, then I shall believe you.” Elinora bit at her cheeks as she looked at the prince’s eye, cruel amusement in his eye. 

“I do not know.” She muttered, and Aemond leaned further. “What? I did not quite hear that. Were you not taught that ladies should not mutter under their breath?” Aemond taunted. Elinora inhaled deeply, spite slowly shining in her eyes. “I do not know, my prince. I was never told his name.” Elinora admitted, now realizing how curious it was that the prince was quite interested in the matter of her betrothal. “I knew it, you lie.” Th prince said cruelly, tormenting the girl he fully knew told the truth but only pestered her further just because… we he didn’t know why, but he could not help himself. 

“I tell no lie! I do not know, only because my family refuses to tell me his name! I was only told that I am betrothed, but never his name.” Elinora explained, voice growing louder as she was starting to fill with annoyance. She hated this! She hated being interrogated for an answer she did not know, and she loathed that she was being called a liar when all her life, she had only told a handful of lies and fibs! 

“And you believe them? You believe that you are betrothed just because they say you are, but they gave you any reason to believe such folly.” 

“Yes! They are my family… they care and love for me, why would they lie?” Elinora wanted to run back to her chambers, hating the way the prince was cruelly trying to plant doubts in her mind. “I do not know… perhaps the same reason why you lie.” The prince challenged, finding no remorse in his actions even when he saw the turmoil in her jade eyes. “But I have told you, I tell no lie! Even if my family lies as you accuse them of doing so, that does not mean I lie because I only repeat what they told!” Aemond only stared at the girl, searching his brain for a response to further continue their conversation, which the girl saw as an interrogation. 

There was a beat of silence, and Elinora sighed heavily to break it. “Why do you even care, my prince? So what if I am betrothed or not? What does it matter to you?” Elinora asked more softly, her irritation quickly calming down. She was never really one to hold grudges or ill feelings for too long. 

Aemond was taken aback by her question. “I—I don’t. I don’t care about you,” he said a bit too quickly, his tone defensive. Elinora nodded in understanding. “Then, it shouldn't matter if I tell a lie or not, now should it?” Elinora questioned, and Aemond was left speechless. Elinora waited for a moment for the prince to reply, but when he made none and only gaped at her, the girl curtsied before him. “Good night, Prince Aemond.” She uttered and turned to finally return inside her chambers.

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[halastar05]

Thoughts on Mastermind

(So yeah spoilers ahead)

So after letting my thoughts on the episode settle a bit and giving myself time to analyze, I have a LOT to say.

So first of all… yeah I think this is officially my new favorite Helluva episode.

I think this episode was pretty well paced (a little fast, but there was a LOT to cover) and also did a surprisingly good job at balancing the drama and humor. Also obviously ADORED the IMP found family showcased in this episode, they were entertaining in the first scene, and heart wrenching at the court.

Now for a bit more analysis, the way they handled the writing was REALLY interesting here. While first watching the episode, I was a little confused about Andrealphus’s plan, but after thinking about it… it’s scarily clever.

He knows that Stolas is smart in his own right, if he straight up brought him to court, he’d find a good way to argue. He knows how to work this type of stuff as shown in Oops. But if they brought in only Blitzø, they knew Stolas wouldn’t see until the broadcasted execution. He would have no time to form a concrete rational plan, Andre wants him to either act irrationally, or make himself look like a fool and incompetent. No one knows exactly what he’ll do, but Andre is giving Stolas as little time as possible to think it out. The hope is that he acts as irrationally as he has before.

And even if Stolas didn’t come, Andre purposely tries to make Stolas seem weak and somewhat helpless, incompetent. All the while he makes himself look an almost better version of our favorite bird. His backup plan is to make Stolas look incompetent and vulnerable, while it may be less immediate, with Stolas’s already somewhat declining reputation, this would make it easier for him to take Stolas’s title.

And despite being EXTREMELY irrational, Stolas did a pretty good job with his plan in my opinion. First of all, he brought ALL the theater kid energy in the song (which was an absolute banger by the way, I don’t care how cheesy the Stolitz part was I LOVE CHEESY) and did a great job playing the part. To me, this is proof that he had finally started to realize the classism. This is the type of part you can only play by understanding it even if you don’t necessarily believe it. He plays up the the classism and distaste for imps, he uses the fact that the other royals see them as useless and incompetent. And honestly, I think it was smart of him to be so vague in the song. Once again, he didn’t have a lot of time to think this through, and he somewhat used this to his advantage. Being vague added an air of mystery and made it seem like more of an unpredictable threat. He’s building up the fact that this mastermind has a dangerous plan, something possibly having to do with taking over the mortal realm. And then when he reveals himself to be the “mastermind”? Well of course he wouldn’t expose any of his “future plans”, Stolas is playing as someone who just wants the recognition and to be feared. Someone arrogant, feeling offended that an imp was getting the credit for his crimes. Claiming he has more planed while not naming those plans makes him a threat and will draw away almost any blame from Blitzø.

And of course this plan is impulsive, but he barely has any time to plan. He arrives right before the axe is about to come down on his lover’s neck. His only goal right now is making sure Blitzø stays alive. In the song he even acknowledges how impulsive it is to throw everything away for this idiot he is still frankly mad at. But he’s learned he can choose his fate, and that’s exactly what he’s doing.

And of course I ADORED the Stolitz in this episode, they were both so perfectly dramatic and the absolute SOFTNESS in the last scene had me making absolute demonic and feral noises. But, despite this somewhat being a closure to the season 2 Stolitz drama (however we do still have Sinsmas) I’m happy they’re still leaving room for more angst even with them now being able to properly blossom. This episode did an EXCELLENT job at showcasing the classism via the unfairness of the court case, so it feels fitting that at the end the power dynamic almost switches. Blitzø is now a celebrity amongst imps and lower class demons, while Stolas essentially lost everything, including his daughter. And while I definitely think this is setting up for angst in at least the next episode (in which I very much think they’re going to go and try to save Octavia from her bitchy mother), this power dynamic is going to feel different, because while there is still somewhat a power dynamic now, there is also a much larger level of understanding between the two of them. They now feel more capable of facing this together, there is less doubt of feelings. I’m REALLY excited to see how they handle this, and yes I also am an absolute sucker for hurt/comfort.

Those are most of my major thoughts in this episode. I loved every single part of this beautifully dramatic episode (yeah I expectantly loved Vassago) but most of the other things I would bring up have already been said. Plus this post is too long so yeah that’s it for now.

[batri-jopa]

Nan Goldin (full speech)

Opening Speech 'This Will Not End Well' at Neue Nationalgalerie (Berlin, 22. Nov. 2024):

The four minutes you spent standing in silence represence one one hundredth of a second for each of the 44,757 people killed in Palestine by Israeli forces. Half of them children. 10,000 of them burried under the ruble. And the 3,516 people killed in Lebanon by Israeli forces. And 815 Israeli civilians killen on October 7th.

Were you uncomfortable? I hope so. We need to feel uncomfortable to feel our bodies under siege even for a minute. Those are the official numbers, however there is other reporting that the direct and indirect deaths from this war is closer to 186,000.

Why did I feel I have to talk tonight? This is my lifetime retrospective but there is nothing from the past year and that's missing. The museum kept its promise to allow me to talk and I thank them. But they claim that my activism and my art are separate even though that it has never been the case. The last year has been Palestine and Lebanon for me. Since October 7th I found it hard to breathe. I feel the catastrophe in my body. But ut's not in this show.

Why am I talking to you, Germany? Because tongues have been tied gagged by the goverment, the police and the cultural crackdown. This is the city that we used to consider refuge. Now over 180 artists, writers and teachers have been cancelled since October 7th. Some for something as banal as a like on Instagram. Many of the Palestinians, 20% of the Jews.

Why am I talking here? I decided to use this exhibition as a platform to amplify my position of moral outrage at the genocide in Gaza and Lebanon. I saw my show is a test case. Is an artist in my position is allowed to express their political stance without being cancelled I hope I'm paving a path for other artists to speak out without these being censored. I hope that's the result. Why can't I speak, Germany? Criticism of Israel has been conflated with antisemitism. Anti-Zionism has nothing to do with antisemitism.

[loud applause from audience]

This is a false equivalency used to maintain the occupation of Palestine and to supress those who speak out. The word antisemitism has been weaponized. It's lost its meaning. In declaring all criticism against Israel is antisemitic it makes it harder to define and stop violent hatred against Jews.

[voices from the audience: "Hundred percent, yeah!"]

We are less saved. Is that all, Germany? Meanwhile islamophobia is being ignored. The goverment's weaponization of antisemitism is being aimed at the Palestinian community in this country and those who speak out and support for them. Germany is home of the largest Palestinian diaspora in Europe yet protesters met with police dogs, they met deportations and stigmatization.

[Another applause from audience]

Are you Listening, Germany? Yesterday the highest criminal court in the world, the ICC officially issued arrest warrants for Netanyahu and Gallant for war crimes of starvation as a method of warfare

[Voices from audience: "Lock them up!"]

for crimes against humanity, for the widespread and systematic attack of the civilian population of Gaza. The ICJ is talking about genocide. The UN is talking about genocide. Even the Pope is talking about genocide. We're not supposed to call it a genocide.

Are you afraid to hear this, Germany? This is a war against children. Children are directly targeted, shot in a head. On average a child is killed in Gaza every 10 minutes. They're intentionally destroying the next generation. The children, who lose their entire families are asking to die. What have you learned, Germany?

[Audience: "nothing! Nothing!"]

My grandparents escaped the groules in Russia. I was brought up knowing about Nazi Holocaust. What I see in Gaza reminds me of the pogroms that me grandparents escaped. Never again means never again for everyone.

[Long loud applause from the audience]

Israel defines itself as the eternal victim, which means you can never be blamed and so is incapable of victimizing others. Why can't you hear this, Germany? There has been a genocide unfolding on our phones for the last 14 months in real time. The first genocide that's ever been live streamed. The heroic journalists are risking their lives to send us daily dispatches even as they are targeted by bombs and drones. 137 journalists have been targeted and killed since October 7th, mostly Palestinians. Israel doesn't want a record left.

What don't you see, Germany? We cannot look away. Can you imagine if it was possible to watch the war in Vietnam, the etjnic cleansing in Bosnia or even the Holocaust live stream on your phone. Would we have turned it away? Even if we are incapable to change what is going on, we need to bear witness. And we need to amplify the voices of the Palestinians. But there is still an opportunity for the world to step in and stop this horror. Why are you afraid to hear this, Germany?

There is a total eradication of the conditions for life of an entire population. The Israeli generals have made their intentions clear: to mow the lawn. This is clearly ethnic cleansing. It was a landgrab from the beginning. Most people have been displaced multiple times and now there's going waterfront real estate on Palestinian land at synagogues in the US. The loss of civilian life has been intentional. If there was a terrorist in the tunnels of the New York subway system wpuld they drop a 2,000 pound bomb on the entire subway? Why can't you see this, Germany?

It's a domicide as well. 88% of homes have been destroyed in Gaza. Almost every Palestinian has been forcibly displaced. The entire infrastructure of Palestine has been destroyed. The hospitals, the schools, the universities, the libraries. It's also a cultural genocide. Why can't you see this, Germany?

In a country like Israel, where everyone is a soldier, extreme violence has become accepted. Cruelty and cynicism have become the norm. There are thousands of hours of TikTok video of soldiers committing war crimes. They prosecute themselves: smashing up home, dressinh up in women's lingerie, celebrating burning villages, bragging of killing children.

I'm talking to America: this slaughter would stop if the US stopped arming Israel

[Applause from audience]

US has spend $22 billion on military to aid to Israel, 69% of the weapons being used in the slaughter are US made and 30% are from Germany.

[Voices from audience: "shame on you! Shame!"]

I will not stop talking to you America. This is not just an Israeli war, it's also an American war. Cirporations are profiting wildly, their stocks of skyrocketed as the US vetos cease resolutions over and over.

Why am I talking? Because advocating for human rights cannot be antisemitic

[Long applause from audience]

because I use words people here feeling danger to say because the Israel and Germany use the Holocaust and memory culture to manufacture innocence. Because social media is shutting down pro-Palestinian voices. Because of potentional starvation of an entire population. Because of the occupation of 75 years that has to be ended. Because Lebanon is beginning to look like Gaza.

What do we need to do? Millions of people around the world are scream8ng for a ceasefire, for an arms embargo but their goverments are not listening. We need to demand an arms embargo. Meanwhile it's about time to stop policing our allies. If we're on the same side we should support each other even if we have different methods. Agree that our anger need to be channeled into action. The most important thing is to take to the streets

[applause from audience]

The more of us there are the more of us there are.

Video on Instagram in case YouTube was unavailable:

https://www.instagram.com/reel/DCwVWtqiwID/?utm_source=ig_web_button_native_share

Nan Goldin Opens Exhibition In Berlin With Fiery Speech Against Israel | United States

[doux-amer]

I've been too busy to watch the last few Liverpool matches and of course the one I tune in for is one of the messiest in recent history.

I don't even remember the last time I saw a team go down to 9 men and we got that and a disallowed goal that should have counted? There was an agenda against us today like one sus choice would have been bad, but three that can't be explained that dictated the game? EXPLAIN.

[folkdances]

clear and clean version of lana and gant from the bento box art... for all of your detective duo needs ^_^

[fortune-maiden]

I've always liked this line of dialogue from SQX, because it does feel like at the end of the day, no matter how much SQX says he can't stand PM, he does still have a decent grasp of his character.

And on the other side of this, these words are just especially pointed towards Pei Xiu, who does have a good relationship with his boss/ancestor, and also going off his backstory, Pei Ming may well have been the first person in his life to acknowledge him and his talents.

So the whole thing just feels extra sad.

[codename-adler]

[crypt1dcorv1dae]

Apollo yelling "I'm Apollo justice and I'm fine" is literally just him stimming ok? Ok.

[karuma-shii]

Drawing Ace Attorney Prosecutors: Klint van Zieks [6/14]

And, as 2023 is about to end, I might as well post my favourite - Klint! Was leaving the best for last :D let's ignore that this is my icon

Anyways, I have so much to say about him... like how he seemed to really care about his brother, how he desired justice more than anything else... and that one final line

[ryfkah]

now that my jury duty is over and i can legally talk about my jury duty, a short list of things that i have learned about jury duty:

when the judge wants to sidebar with the lawyers they turn on a static noise machine for the jury. this is very like the experience of being trapped inside a television

sometimes they load the entire court -- judge, lawyers, court reporters, jury, etc. -- onto a bus and take you all on a little field trip to see a crime scene. this is very like the experience of being in elementary school

when you are on a jury field trip you May Not share a seat, you May Not speak, and you May Not look at anything you have not been officially told you can look at. this is very like the experience of being trapped inside a point-and-click adventure except that instead of being limited in your investigation by the constraints of the game mechanics, you are instead limited in your investigation by the court officers herding you around like ducks with their long wooden Official Court Staffs

no matter how much an FBI agent may encourage the court to call him kevin, the court will not call him kevin

[lelianaslefthand]

new year new me: i added a name to my bio

[plutotheplum]

Keep My Hand in Yours

emperor!zayne x concubine!reader - read part 1!

summary: the emperor is intent on convincing you that you are worthy enough to be his empress.

cw: nsfw (18+) - mdni!!, smut, fluff, oral sex, vaginal fingering, p in v, praise kink, throne sex, spanking

wc: 6.9k

a/n: part 2 is finally here! thank you for all the sweet comments, i cherish them all!! <3 umm... i do plan on adding some more parts to this series... so yeah, i hope you enjoy! :)

also on ao3!

“She is not with child.”

Zayne’s stern voice cuts through the chatter of his advisors, his fingers tapping against the arm of his throne irritatedly. The drone of voices silences, his advisors lowering their heads in respect.

You stand off to the side, playing with the sleeves of your robes nervously. Perhaps you’d been a little naive to think the advisors would have been accepting of your blossoming relationship with the Emperor. 

Word had spread throughout the palace, and most likely throughout the entire Empire about the new developments that had taken place overnight. The guards had heard you of course, their eyes averted and cheeks flushed pink when Zayne had held your hand and led you out of his chambers.

An unforeseen turn in events, and you had somehow excelled past the advisors’ expectations, garnering the Emperor’s affection for you. Whilst a small number of the Emperor’s advisors were pleased, the majority were not. Standing before them, you can see the disdain on their faces, the hatred that belies their thin smiles. Jealousy is above all however, for their own daughters were once placed forth as noble matches for the Emperor. 

You jolt out of your thoughts when an Imperial guard takes your arm, moving you to stand before the Emperor. Zayne looks down at you, and you can spy the slight softening of his eyes as he watches you bow to him.

“As I have said,” Zayne repeats, “she is not with child.”

“Forgive me, your majesty,” a voice speaks out from behind you, “how can she not be with child? We- we have heard of what occurred.”

Zayne motions for you to spin around, and you do as he wants. You now face his entire court, advisors gathered in hours of the early morning. It was the grand chancellor who spoke, a tall man, his face gaunt. You remember he had served Zayne’s father before he had passed.

“We are both not ready for children,” Zayne explains, “I had the palace physician brew a tea under my command.”

It was true. You had both spoken about the matter, and you simply could not handle carrying a child so soon. Zayne had agreed, snuck you out through the passages in the middle of the night, and had taken you to the palace physician. The brewing of such teas was not unheard of, but certainly not an accepted occurrence, although perhaps more commonly used among the nobility.

“I see…” the grand chancellor says slowly, his gaze fixating on you.

You want to shrink away, somehow hide behind the safety of the Emperor, but you cannot. Instead, you shift on the spot, averting your gaze to the floor as though you were not the very object of interest of this gathering.

“And you intend to continue this foolish endeavor?” 

Your head snaps up at the harsh words, gaze settling on the new voice that had spoken out. A lower ranking official judging by the coloring of his robes, his eyes narrowing as he stares at you.

“It appears you forget yourself,” the Emperor replies coolly. 

“Or perhaps you forget yourself, your majesty,” the official spits, stepping forward, “you would ruin the image of your rule to marry some… some lowly concubine?”

The murmurs of the other members of court are hard to ignore, hushed whispers breaking out at the official’s blatant show of disrespect towards the Emperor.

“And was it not this very court that decided to gather concubines without my knowledge?”

“For child bearing!” the official hisses, pointing his finger towards you accusingly, “not for marriage!”

You swallow harshly at the viciousness of his words, biting back the insults that threaten to spill out. Retaliation in such a meeting would only support the official’s cause. 

“She will be your Empress,” Zayne says calmly, “if you seek to insult my future wife yet again, I will have you removed immediately.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks when he affirms that you’ll be his wife. It may not be the best time, but the light flush covers your cheeks and you try to stop the pull of your lips, a smile threatening to spread across your face.

“If you think I- we will stand for such insolence, you are sorely mistaken, your majesty” the official snarls.

A bitter laugh echoes through the throne room. 

“Be grateful that I am not my father,” Zayne murmurs, “for he would have had your head. Remove your seal.”

The official sputters, looking around at the rest of the court members wildly. Most avoid his eyes, others unconsciously touching their own seals through the fabric of their robes.

You flinch when the official removes his Imperial seal angrily, tossing the little silver square at your feet.

“You have poisoned his mind,” he accuses heatedly, face reddened from his outburst, “and you should do well to remember your station.”

Irritation pricks at your skin, your teeth gritting together. You were well aware of your station, of your status and how you’re perceived. The incessant reminders aren’t doing well to calm your frayed nerves, brows pulling together as you glare at the official. 

“Bow to her.”

The rules of nobility have been set in place for longer than you could possibly know, and yet Zayne seems insistent on breaking them. It’s bold, even for him, to demand such a thing. You turn, shooting him a look, subtly shaking your head. There’s a hint of a smile on the Emperor’s face, as though enjoying this confrontation.

“I- I will do no such thing!” the official protests.

“You have already lost your seal and your position and you still will not do as I say?” Zayne murmurs, leaning forward in his throne.

You watch with wide eyes when the official does bow to you, the upper half of his body lowering. Another round of hushed whispers passes through the room, and you can feel the grand chancellor’s eyes boring into you. His authority was only second to the Emperor, the only man who held a real chance of changing Zayne’s mind.

“Good,” Zayne says, leaning back on his throne, “now leave us.”

The throne room clears out immediately, until you’re the only one remaining. You smile at him, stepping between his legs until you’re standing in front of him.

“I did not take you for a tyrant,” you tease, brushing his hair out of his face.

“And I did not know that protecting my future wife made me a tyrant,” Zayne muses, his arms wrapping around your waist.

He tugs you closer, his head falling forward to rest against your stomach, face burying itself in your robes. A soft sigh leaves you, fingers running through his loose hair, scratching at his scalp lightly.

“Tired?” you ask, arm wrapping around his neck.

The Emperor nods against your stomach, trying to press his face deeper. A laugh escapes you at his needy behavior, your hand managing to cup his jaw to bring him out of his hiding place. 

“The affairs of state have become bothersome,” Zayne says, peering up at you.

“Oh? You did not seem to mind before.”

“Playing coy?” Zayne smiles faintly, tugging you forward until you stumble and land on his lap.

“Hardly,” you whisper, pressing yourself closer as your hands curl into his robes.

The Emperor leans back on his throne, his hands kneading at your hips. You chase after him, eyes fluttering shut as you press your lips against his. Zayne lets out a low noise, drawing you closer, his hand sliding up your back as you kiss. The memory from last night is still fresh, the feeling of his hands on your body ingrained in your mind. 

“I cannot have enough of you,” he whispers, lips brushing over yours.

“You- you ought to rest,” you gasp, tilting your head to let him kiss down the length of your neck.

Zayne kisses your sternum, and back up your neck before he sighs and tucks his face into the crook of your neck. You hold him close, hand smoothing over his hair gently.

“I have made things difficult for you,” you say quietly.

He shakes his head, squeezing your waist reassuringly. 

“I have become complacent,” he murmurs, “simply letting others do as they please.”

You kiss his forehead when he lifts his head, brushing your thumbs over his cheeks. Exhaustion mars the Emperor’s face, his eyes looking sunken and dull. The sudden gathering of his court appears to have drained his energy.

“I shall have to gather them again,” Zayne says, “the trade agreements need attention.”

A smile settles on your face when he kisses your cheeks gently, his hands petting your sides. You move off of his lap, standing up with him reluctantly. Reaching out, you fix his hair and his robes that you had held onto earlier. 

“Finish, then retire to your chambers to rest,” you instruct, patting his chest.

Zayne laughs, his head dipping down to kiss you. You return the kiss eagerly, pulling apart with a few sweet, little pecks to his lips.

“You are already acting like a doting wife,” he whispers.

You flush when he says that, looking away. It’s still hard to get over the fact that Zayne, the Emperor, wants to marry you of all people. The thought of it all makes your palms sweaty, cheeks hot and heart race. There’s a whirlwind upon you, Zayne, tearing apart your preconceived notions of the Empire. 

“I want to dote on you.”

The words tumble from your lips, soft and vulnerable. You’ve never felt this way about a man, never had a man pay attention to you, never been touched by a man before him. It’s as though the Emperor’s expressions are always tender in the way he gazes at you. You’ve never known what it’s like to be in love, but if it’s like this, so startlingly soft and sickeningly sweet, you fear you may be lost in him forever. 

“I- I just meant-” you begin to correct yourself, fidgeting with your robes.

“I know what you meant,” Zayne says softly, his hands finding yours.

Your breath catches in your throat when he lifts your hands to his mouth, his thumbs running over your skin soothingly. Zayne keeps his eyes on you as he kisses across your knuckles, squeezing your hands gently after. 

“I said I take care of what’s mine,” he continues, drawing you close, “and you are mine now.”

You nod jerkily, shoving your face into his chest. The Emperor hums, stroking your hair slowly. Unfortunately, you don’t get to bask in his embrace for any longer, a guard announcing the arrival of a messenger.

“Rest,” you remind him, planting a soft kiss on his cheek.

Zayne nods, squeezing your waist before allowing you to draw away. 

-

The other girls crowd around you immediately when you enter your chambers, their expressions sly and knowing as they tug you towards the middle of the room, soft giggles filling the air.

“Well?” one of them asks, eyes wide with curiosity. 

“Well what?” you ask, feigning innocence.

A chorus of complaints breaks out.

“Stop being shy!”

“We tell you our stories!”

“You must tell us!”

One of the girls reaches for you, her arm hooking with yours. She leans down, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispers conspiratorially.

“Was the Emperor well-endowed?”

“Oh, stop it!”

- 

The grand chancellor has been lurking in the hallways.

You’d noticed the tall man when you had left to make some tea, but after a considerable amount of time, he was still there. The cold breeze outside should’ve been enough to deter him, but you’ve figured he must be intent on speaking to you.

To be frank, you aren’t in the mood for another confrontation just days later from the disastrous court meeting that had occurred. It’s why you hold your breath as you sneak out from your chambers, feet padding against the floor lightly as you try to slip past the grand chancellor’s turned back.

“Will you avoid me for much longer?” he calls out. 

You wince, halting in place. The grand chancellor cannot be avoided forever, you suppose.

“Come along,” he says, his fingers motioning for you to follow him.

You do as he says begrudgingly, following after the grand chancellor. To your surprise, he leads you into the gardens rather than a private room. Snow is yet to fall today, autumn soon drawing to a close in a few weeks. You wipe the fallen leaves that have landed on a nearby bench, sitting down after the grand chancellor does.

It’s suffocatingly awkward, your fingers playing with each other agitatedly as he simply sits next to you, looking out at the plants and trees that make up the gardens. You realize it would be a foolish idea to let your guard down around him. The grand chancellor hadn’t reprimanded Zayne during that meeting and yet you remember the way he had been staring at you. His intentions are hard to discern, his loyalties to the Emperor and the Emperor alone. 

“Much like his father, his majesty is stubborn,” the grand chancellor says, “I have had the pleasure of knowing both men since they were children.”

“I see,” you murmur, peeking a glance at him.

You don’t know why he’s telling you this, half-expecting the man to begin berating you for becoming so close to Zayne. 

“I shall be frank,” he sighs, turning to face you, “I did not expect the Emperor to become so… enamored by you.”

“I did not expect it either,” you grumble defensively.

“His majesty is an intelligent man. He knows of the consequences and yet seems intent on taking you to wed.”

“Consequences?” you echo.

“Political alliances are frail,” he explains, picking up a fallen leaf and examining it, “marriage is the easiest way to prevent a war between regions.”

“We have not been at war for years!” you protest, shaking your head.

“And we will not be for many more,” the grand chancellor assures you, “I am simply warning you of what may come when you are Empress.”

You don’t understand the politics of the Empire, have never been privy to such things. The grand chancellor only adds to the confusion and uncertainty that has been brewing inside your mind. 

“I thought you would dissuade him,” you say quietly.

“The boy deserves happiness,” the grand chancellor murmurs, standing up, “if he wishes to be with you, then I will allow it.” He peers down at you, his lips thinning. “Take caution, child. Envy drives men to madness. The nobility may hide behind their bloodlines, but a cesspool festers within.”

The grand chancellor hands you the withered leaf.

“Loyalties change as the seasons do.”

- 

A week later, the Emperor finds you in the gardens, sitting under a tree.

“You have not come to see me,” Zayne says, sitting down beside you.

“I did not want to trouble you,” you reply.

You reach for his hand, lacing your fingers with his. The Emperor’s fingers are stained with ink, streaks of black covering his pale skin. Zayne’s arm wraps around your waist, pulling you flush against his side.

“The grand chancellor is worried.”

“I surmised as much,” the Emperor sighs, his fingers playing with your robes.

You peer up at him, and Zayne leans down, dropping a kiss to your forehead. There’s a part of you that can’t help but feel you’re putting him in a position that he normally wouldn’t be in if he had simply chosen to marry someone of higher status.

“Do you truly wish to marry me?” you ask quietly, averting your gaze.

“Have I told you otherwise?” Zayne asks in return, his fingers gripping your chin to turn your head so that your eyes meet his again.

The tenderness in his eyes is overwhelming. You feel as though you’re drowning, swallowed up by his irises and his honest gaze. Things would’ve been far simpler if he were someone less important, but you can’t imagine Zayne being anything other than the Emperor, for it would be a disservice to the Empire.

You shift, standing up before settling your hands on his broad shoulders, straddling him as you climb up onto his lap. It’s improper to act so brazenly, but you’ve done far more improper things with him, acted far more brazenly in his presence. The Emperor grunts as you settle yourself on his lap, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you closer.

“I am not fit to be your Empress,” you whisper.

Zayne doesn’t say anything for a moment, his hand simply rubbing up and down your back soothingly. Your throat is tight and you can feel your lips trembling. You don’t want to cry, but you can’t help it when a sniffle escapes you.

“And you think I am fit to be Emperor?” he whispers, “I am only here because of my father and his father before him and so on.”

“But you are the Emperor,” you insist, voice quavering, “I could not possibly-”

“Forget about nonsensical titles,” Zayne murmurs, his hands cupping your cheeks as his thumbs wipe away the hot tears that have begun to roll down your cheeks, “I meant every word I said that night.”

“B- but-” 

“But nothing,” the Emperor soothes, staring into your eyes intently, “I would sooner have no one than not have you.”

“You are the worst,” you say tearily, pushing at his chest weakly. 

“Ah, I am sure,” he says, a small smile spreading across his face.

The Emperor cradles your head, tilting it to his will as he kisses away the fresh tears that wet your cheeks. He doesn’t stop there, his lips dragging over your skin gently. The Emperor kisses your brows, your closed eyelids, the tip of your nose, every inch of your face that is bared to him.

“Thank you,” you whisper. 

You kiss him gently and Zayne smooths his thumbs over your cheeks, deepening the kiss as he presses his lips against yours firmly. A soft whine leaves you, letting his tongue lick over the seam of your lips before he licks into your mouth, tongue delving deep. The Emperor kisses you as though trying to convince you of his words, as though to make you stay. 

“I want to show you something,” Zayne says, his forehead pressing against yours. You nod, moving to stand up. Zayne doesn’t let you, instead hauling you up into his arms and standing up. A surprised squeak bubbles out of you when you realize the Emperor is carrying you.

“Zayne!” you protest, “Zayne, people will see!”

Zayne only tightens his grip when you begin to squirm, brushing a kiss to your forehead to calm your ministrations.

Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, people do see. You try to shrink in his grasp, pressing yourself into his chest as the palace staff pause their duties to watch with wide eyes as the Emperor carries you out of the gardens. Some are unable to stop their jaws from slackening, others beginning to point and whisper amongst themselves.

The Emperor hardly bats an eye, his stride strong and purposeful as he carries you through the hallways and courtyards. It’s a statement in and of itself. 

You spy the smirk on an Imperial guard’s face when he opens up the doors to the throne room, your eyes narrowing when the man sends you a wink. The doors slam shut with a resounding thud, leaving only you and Zayne inside.

“Zayne- Zayne, no!” you hiss, hands scrabbling at his shoulders when you realize what he’s doing. 

Your legs kick out, trying to somehow climb up the Emperor’s tall frame. It’s futile against his strength, his hands manhandling you until he sets you down on his throne. If he doesn’t punish you for it, you fear the Heavens will. 

“Stay,” the Emperor says, pushing at your shoulders when you try to shoot up from where you’re sitting, “I command it.”

You sit in place rigidly, back straight. There are centuries of history that make up this throne, and you can’t help but feel that you are somehow dishonoring it all by sitting here. 

“What are you-” your brows furrowing when he suddenly begins to bend.

Fingers digging into the arms of the throne, you feel as though you might faint as you watch the Emperor bow to you before sinking to his knees. Zayne stares up at you expectantly, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

“G- get up!” you whisper heatedly.

There’s no one here, but you can only imagine the severity of the consequences if someone were to stumble in here and find the Emperor on his knees for you.

“Command it,” he says, looking perfectly content in his current position.

“No one can command the Emperor!”

“I will not move unless you exert your authority,” Zayne says simply.

Your eye twitches at his insistence, at his own brazenness. 

“Say it,” he coaxes gently, “say it and I will stand.”

“I-” your breath catches in your throat awkwardly. You flush when Zayne nods his head encouragingly, your voice breathy when you begin to speak again. “I c-command you to stand.”

“Very good,” he murmurs, standing up and moving towards you.

Zayne smiles at you, his head dipping to crash his lips onto yours, his hands braced on the arms of his throne. You gasp, arms wrapping around his neck as he kisses you fiercely. The Emperor continues his onslaught of kisses, dragging his lips down your neck as his fingers pull free the knot holding your robes together.

“You think your station determines your worth,” Zayne whispers, his teeth scraping your shoulder, “but this- you are worth more to me than the finest jade.”

“Stop,” you whisper, eyes slipping shut, “you must stop speaking like that. It does awful things to my heart.”

He laughs softly, kissing between your breasts. You bite your lip as his mouth envelops your breast, his tongue swirling around your nipple. His teeth catch on it, tugging playfully before letting it pop free as he switches breasts. You run your fingers through his long hair, head tipping back against the throne as your body convulses.

The Emperor holds you in place, letting his tongue lave over your areola, his half-lidded eyes peering up at you to catch your reactions. You give him a weak smile and Zayne moans around your breast, his hand squeezing at the fat of your other breast.

Your dazed eyes watch as he kisses down your body, kissing your hip then your navel. He sinks to his knees once again, and you can’t find it in yourself to reprimand him, lost in the haze of lust and love. Zayne kisses the curls of hair on your mound, his hands gripping your calves to help guide your legs over his shoulders.

“I have missed this,” he whispers, his thumbs pulling apart your folds.

“As have I,” you sigh.

You moan when Zayne licks up a stripe over your cunt, collecting your arousal on his tongue. He rests his cheek against your thigh, watching intently as your aching hole clenches around nothing, watching as more slick drips from you.

“Stop staring,” you mumble, pushing at his head gently.

“I enjoy the sight,” he says in return.

Your thighs twitch when he pushes the hood of your clit up a little more, exposing the swollen bud. Zayne groans, kissing the inside of your thigh firmly before licking over your cunt again. A strangled gasp rips out of your throat, hands tightening in his hair as he sucks your clit into his mouth.

“Z- Zayne- ah- hah!” 

A soft whimper escapes when he kisses your clit, his fingers dimpling into the flesh of your thighs harshly. Zayne pulls you to the edge of the throne, his face burying deeper as he groans again, drinking down your slick. 

You squeal when he fucks his tongue into you, body shaking uncontrollably as you fist his hair tighter. He hisses against your cunt, renewing his efforts. You can feel his mouth opening wider, trying to consume you whole, licking and sucking desperately at every inch of velvety, sensitive flesh he can reach.

His nose rubs against your clit, and you’re seeing stars. The Emperor makes an obscene noise and you can feel his tongue moving inside of you, the feeling making your thighs clamp around his head. 

“Have- have you ever put your fingers inside of yourself?” he asks, raising his head.

You shake your head, watching as his fingers stroke over your clit lovingly, his mouth pressing open-mouthed kisses to your knee.

“May I?” the Emperor whispers, his finger prodding at your hole.

You give him a jerky nod, legs falling apart a little more for him. He smiles up at you, his finger sinking into you slowly. You whimper at the sensation, clenching around his finger. Zayne adds another soon after, and you’re panting desperately, hips bucking as he curls them inside of you. 

“The scroll said to do something like this,” he mutters under his breath.

“You- oh- you read a scroll?” you grit out.

“It was quite informative,” Zayne murmurs, beginning to move his fingers.

“Why must you be so- ah!” 

You don’t get to finish your sentence, your knuckles turning white as you grip the throne for stability as he latches his mouth back onto your clit, his fingers thrusting in and out of you. The heat inside your stomach grows more intense with each flick of his tongue, his teeth scraping against your sensitive flesh for good measure.

Moans have begun to fill the air, and you can’t find it in yourself to care anymore, letting go completely. You guide his head to where you want him, toes curling against his back, crumpling his silk robes. Zayne’s mouth works with his fingers diligently, his fingers crooking up a little more to graze the spot where you need it most.

You peek down to see the pink flush on his cheeks and your back arches, his name leaving your mouth in a cry as you come on his fingers and his tongue. The Emperor moans as you writhe, his fingers moving in and out of you a couple more times before freeing them from your clenching walls.

Chest heaving, you pant, slumping back in the throne as he kisses across your puffy folds and sensitive cunt. Your thighs twitch a little when he peppers soft, little kisses against your clit and you can’t help but think the man has an obsession with its ability to bring you such pleasure.

The Emperor kisses up your body and you cup his jaw, kissing him sweetly.

“I fear this throne may be ruined,” you whisper against his lips.

He laughs, his nose nudging yours gently, “I recall promising to take you on it.”

“Before that,” you stand up on shaky legs, pushing at his chest until he sits back on his throne.

Adoration glimmers in his eyes, watching as your loose robes slip from your shoulders, pooling at your feet. You stand bare before the Emperor, and you catch the slight spreading of his thighs to relieve the ache of his cock.

This time it’s you that’s sinking to your knees, pulling his robes free. The muscles of his abdomen clench when you run your fingers down his chest, his hand coming up to cover his flushed face.

“Why are you shy now?” you accuse, pouting up at him.

His thighs twitch when you curl your hand around his cock and you can feel the throb of his fat, hot length. 

“You do not have to-” he whispers when he sees your head dip.

“I want to,” you say stubbornly.

Zayne nods in acquiescence, moaning when you begin to drag your hand up and down his cock. It’s a little intimidating when you stare at it up close, but you swallow down your worries, leaning forward to kiss the tip experimentally.

His cock twitches in response, pre-cum beading at the tip. Your tongue darts out, licking up the little glob, feeling the taste of him spread across your tongue.

“Zayne,” you whisper, breath fanning over his cock, “Zayne, you must watch me.”

The Emperor groans at your lilting voice, his eyes opening the moment your mouth envelops him. His hips buck and you nearly seize up at the feeling of the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat. You mewl around him, breathing through your nose, tongue swirling before your head begins to bob up and down.

“Fuck,” Zayne hisses, his fingers spreading across your scalp, “my love, you are devious.”

You hum in response, pulling off of his cock in favor of giving more attention to the tip of it. You swirl your tongue, tongue flicking at the flared head and it’s enough to make Zayne whine, his thighs spreading wider for you. 

“Can you take it deeper?” he asks, his fingers trailing down the curve of your cheek.

“I shall try,” you murmur, mouth opening for him.

He hooks his thumb into the corner of his mouth, cupping your chin before his thumb spreads over the flat of your tongue. You smile, eyes flashing with mischievousness as you suck his thumb into your mouth, tongue flicking against the pad of it. 

Zayne shoots you a searing look and you watch as he grips the base of his cock. He drags the tip of his cock against your closed lips, entranced as he watches his pre-cum smears across your lips. His other hand presses at the back of your head and your mouth opens again, letting him guide his cock into your mouth.

“Just like that,” he whispers, “good girl.”

You can feel arousal shooting through you at the praise, slick pooling between your thighs yet again. The ache is so unbearable that you shove your hand between your thighs, rubbing at your clit.

The Emperor pushes your head gently and you go willingly, slurping and sucking around his thick cock. Saliva drips from your mouth, coating his cock and his balls, strings of it landing on the edge of his throne. You rub at your clit faster, eyes fluttering as he brushes your loose hair away from your face.

“A- ah,” Zayne rasps, “hah- my love.”

The term of endearment is enough to have you taking it upon yourself to sink down his cock even more. The tufts of his black hair hit your nose for a moment, but you’re inexperienced and you’ve overestimated your own abilities. The feeling of his cock filling your throat is too much, and you choke, throat seizing, causing you to pull off with a hoarse cough as your eyes water.

Concern flits across Zayne’s face, his thumb swiping over your swollen lips. You give him a watery smile, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. He sighs in relief when he sees you’re okay, leaning forward to place a tender kiss to your lips.

“So willful,” the Emperor murmurs.

He slides his hands under your armpits, picking you up and setting you down on his lap.

“I can do it again,” you mumble, gaze lowering to see his cock pressed between your bodies.

Zayne smiles, petting at your sides, “as much as I enjoyed the feeling, I cannot have my darling choking on my cock.”

“I was not choking,” you whine, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

“If you insist,” Zayne soothes, “but when we are married, I will have many more opportunities to watch you swallow my cock.”

The Emperor’s constant promise of marriage has your heart lurching and you lean forward, crushing your lips against his. He grunts in surprise at your sudden action but returns the kiss just as eagerly, squeezing at your hips.

You whine into his mouth, his hair tickling your skin as he presses forward, his hips rolling up into yours. You can feel his hard cock between your thighs, the length dragging between your folds. 

Zayne groans at the sensation, his head falling back and you take the opportunity to kiss down his neck, rolling your hips wantonly, your nails digging into his broad shoulders.

“Who are you?” he whispers, groping the fat of your ass.

“W- what?�� you pull back, confusion spreading across your face.

The Emperor guides your hips to continue moving, your folds hugging his cock as you grind against it.

“Who are you?” Zayne asks again, “your title, what is it?”

Pleasure has made your mind hazy, and you can’t discern whether he’s playing a game of some sort with his questions, or whether he’s suffering from some sort of untimely amnesia.

“Your concubine,” you reply, “I thought-”

You jolt in his arms when he suddenly lands a heavy spank to your ass, his eyes narrowing when he hears your answer.

“Incorrect,” Zayne murmurs, his hand squeezing your ass in warning.

“I am your concubine- ah!”

Zayne shakes his hand, spanking you twice. You can feel the prickly heat spread across your skin, the pain searing. You glare up at him, and he smiles back, his hand smoothing over your reddened backside. 

“Who are you, my love?” he whispers, his nose nudging yours.

Oh. Oh. 

The Emperor’s insistence is a remarkable thing, you think. He may be even more stubborn than you are. Zayne’s fingers tapping against your cheek brings you out of your thoughts, your eyes meeting his. 

“I- I am your Empress,” you say quietly.

“Precisely.”

Zayne slots his lips over yours and you mewl, your hips beginning to rock again, inner thighs wet with your slick and his pre-cum smeared over his abdomen. He kisses you over and over until you’re short of breath and your lips are swollen and slick with his spit.

“Will you take my cock, my love?” 

“Y- yes,” you say airily, lifting your hips as he grips the base of his cock, “please.”

Zayne squeezes your hip, watching as you bite your lip and sink down on his cock. His cock is just as girthy as you remember, filling up your needy hole perfectly. Your body falls forward at the feeling and Zayne kisses your cheek, his arms wrapping around your waist.

“Always take my cock so well,” he praises.

Your hands plant themselves against his chest as your head tips back, taking what you want from him. Hips rising and falling, airy moans filling the air, you ride the Emperor. Zayne moans with you, his hands kneading at the flesh of your sides before drifting to take handfuls of your ass too.

“So good,” you slur, the force of your movements increasing, “feels so good, Zayne.”

“I know,” Zayne whispers, watching the bounce and sway of your breasts as you move atop him, “use me, my love.”

You do as he says, using him to drive yourself further to the edge of pleasure. The sounds filling the throne room are lewd, the clap of skin echoing throughout coupled with your shared noises.

Your thighs burn as you roll your hips, taking his cock deeper into the heat of your cunt, feeling it punch into the most sensitive spot inside of you. It’s too much, the mind-numbing sensations and your own body tiring with every movement.

You slump against him, hips slowing to a pitiful stop, his fat cock still stuffed inside of you. It twitches and you whimper, peering up at Zayne desperately.

“Husbands should take care of their wives,” you mumble, lips pressing against his.

“But we are not yet married,” he whispers teasingly. 

Zayne kisses you slowly, his hand sliding up your neck and stopping to cup your cheek. He molds you to his will, maneuvering your body as he sees fit, grabbing at every inch of flesh he can reach.

“But I am yours,” you say earnestly, “and I will be yours till the day I die.”

“You will, won’t you?” Zayne smiles, drawing you closer, “nothing makes me happier, my dear.”

You wail when he suddenly ruts up into you, balls slapping against your ass as he tightens his grip to bounce you up and down on his lap. Your hands lose their holds on his shoulders, scrabbling for stability until you find purchase on the top of his throne. 

The Emperor is fucking you on his throne. 

You try to feel some sense of mortification, but you can’t, the feeling of his cock erasing all sensible thoughts from your mind. Zayne slaps your ass and you squeak, body falling forward even more. Your breasts press into his face and you whine when he mouths at them, sucking a hardened nipple into his mouth.

The Emperor’s name leaves your mouth in a pleading chant and he answers your needs, pulling you down until your cunt is flush with the base of his cock, pussy swallowing up his length completely. Zayne slows to a grind, keeping his cock stuffed inside of you. 

You curl an arm around his neck, hugging him closer to your breasts and Zayne groans, his mouth opening wider to try and take in your entire breast. He stares up at you, the flush on his cheeks deepened and eyes so, so soft. 

Your lips slot over his as soon as his mouth detaches from your breast, your lips working against his slowly and sweetly, hips swaying back to meet the slow thrusts of his hips.

“You have ruined me,” you confess, cheek resting on his shoulder.

“Better it be me than some other man,” he whispers.

You agree with him on that. Zayne has given you far more than you could’ve possibly dreamed, the twist of fate bringing you something, or rather, someone to cherish.

“You are everything, Zayne.”

He groans at your bold words, his head falling back against his throne. You come undone in slow waves, body trembling as he comes with you, his cock kicking inside of you as hot cum spurts from the tip, filling you up. You can feel the thickness of it, cum spilling into you for a few moments longer as your hips slow to a stop.

You both breathe heavily, his chest moving under yours. A thin sheen of sweat covers your bodies, robes forgotten as they lie at the foot of the throne. 

A soft smile graces your lips as you move his hair out of his eyes, tilting his head to kiss his forehead.

“You spoil me,” Zayne mutters, nuzzling into your palm.

“I think it is the other way around,” you laugh breathlessly.

He sighs, slumping in his throne, his cock still inside of you. You can feel it softening, no longer plugging you full as cum begins to leak out from your pussy.

“I may need more tea,” you whisper.

Zayne huffs in amusement, his fingers collecting his viscous cum. He smears it across your pussy, his fingers catching onto your clit as he rubs his cum onto the little bud. He lifts his hand to your mouth and you accept eagerly, staring into his eyes as you suck his fingers clean of cum.

“Minx,” he mutters.

You giggle, kissing the pads of his fingers affectionately, shifting to sit on his thigh. Zayne smiles in return, his hands massaging your sore thighs. He kisses your cheek a few times, peppers a few kisses here and there over your shoulder.

“Feeling better?” Zayne asks, nuzzling your cheek.

“Much,” you whisper, smiling up at him, “but I fear I may not be able to walk.”

“Shall I carry you again?” the Emperor whispers.

You roll your eyes, prodding your fingers into his chest, “I did not enjoy that.”

“Lying is punishable by death.”

“You are insufferable,” you whisper.

Zayne leans forward for another kiss, but you deny him, slipping off of his lap. He laughs when your thighs tremble, reaching out to catch you by the waist before your knees buckle.

He tugs you onto his lap, thwarting your escape as he kisses you again. You think you won’t be leaving this place anytime soon.

-

Zayne doesn’t think there’s anything more beautiful in this world than when you’re sleeping. 

The slow rise and fall of your chest, the sweet innocence of your face, your hair splayed against the pillows, the gods must favor him for they’ve sent him a vision.

He smiles as he watches you stir in your sleep, brushing away the hair that’s fallen onto your face. Zayne can’t resist leaning closer, his fingers tracing the curve of your cheek, feeling your soft skin under his.

Zayne likes it when you smile, when you glare, the way you protest against his subtle teases. He’s never met someone as endearing as you, never bothered to take interest in another until you came along with that tray of tea clutched in your hands. He hasn’t told you about how his own heart flutters at the mere thought of you, and doesn’t think he will. He’d be better off showing you instead.

Above all, he remembers when you’d stumbled into his chambers, your flustered disposition as you’d apologized. He’d been lonely before you, trapped in a dull existence with others meandering through his life without purpose.

But you’ve changed things now. He feels free when he hears your laugh, the light in your eyes warming him from within. The world around him seems brighter, sparks of color appearing in places he had never seen before. 

You had painted the world for him.

[thebreakfastgenie]

It is extremely disturbing how many posts I see claiming that Roe v. Wade was overturned on Biden's watch and blaming him and the Democratic Party for it. It's disturbing on a number of levels.

First, it was Trump and Bush-appointed justices who handed down the Dobbs decision. This is a flagrant example of blaming Democrats for things Republicans did, and not coincidentally is one of the the most widely felt differences between the two parties. As a result, it's usually the first example Democrats and their allies point to; this misappropriation suggests a deliberate attempt to undercut that fact.

Secondly, and related to the first point, it obfuscates who the real enemy is, and I am comfortable using word "enemy" to describe the Republican Party because of the policies they advocate and enact. The truth is that states controlled by the Republican Party were where the effects of Dobbs are most severely felt, while states controlled by the Democratic Party are passing laws to protect abortion. It is important to know which party opposes abortion and which party supports it. If the Republicans gain control of the House, Senate, and White House, they will pass a national abortion ban, as they have done at the state level in several places.

Thirdly, blaming Biden for Dobbs demonstrates a very concerning lack of understanding of how the government functions. The judiciary is its own branch of government; judges are appointed by the president and confirmed by the senate. It doesn't matter who is president when a decision is handed down, it matters who was president when the justices were appointed. People sometimes react to this by moving the goalposts and claiming the real issue was a failure by Democrats to "codify" Roe v. Wade. I am not sure what "codify" means in this context, and I'm not sure they are either. One thing it does not mean is that congress can pass a law saying "abortion is legal forever." Republicans could easily repeal such a law and it the federal government cannot necessarily prevent states from restricting abortion at the state level. Roe v. Wade was a ruling stating that the constitution guaranteed a right to privacy, which included the right to have an abortion. This prevented abortion restrictions in a way federal law cannot. That doesn't mean passing federal law protecting abortion is a bad idea, but it isn't a foolproof protection. It's fair to argue that the Democratic Party and the left of center generally were complacent about abortion. The form of this complacency was not taking the courts seriously, while the right spent fifty years openly filling the courts with anti-abortion judges.

The last thing that worries me is that this is popping up phrased almost the exact same way all over the place. I am afraid that it is not merely incompetence, but intentional misinformation, that is then repeated by the incompetent who believe it.

I know some will probably dismiss this post as being from a "vote harder" liberal Biden supporter, but whatever your feelings about Biden, the Democratic Party, or the democratic process in the U.S., you should care about the truth. The truth is that Roe v. Wade was overturned by Republican-appointed judges and abortion bans are being enacted by Republican elected officials, and Joe Biden opposes these things. You can do with that information whatever you wish, but you denying it is dishonest.

[poptartmochi]

also.. thinking again about how the oracle originally wears extremely pious dress as her standard outfit bc she functions like a priest/cleric, but then the king dies, so she starts wearing club leather because I like to imagine that is their society's Mourning Dress Code

[anexperimentallife]

Project 2025 would ban anything the far right considers pornography. The far right considers anything queer-positive to be pornography, and they WILL encode that into law if given just a TINY bit more power.

Have queer fanfic (or trad published literature) or pics of your transition, or of two men kissing, saved to your hard drive? If the GOP get their way, you'd be guilty of possession of pornography. Did you share any of it? You'd be guilty of distribution of pornography. Have a sweet coming of age story with a queer protagonist? That'd be child pornography.

Even now, states are trying to make it a crime to be openly queer in public (by, among other things, classifying dressing as the "wrong gender" anyplace kids might see as a sex crime against children). Oh, and Florida tried (and thankfully failed) to impose the death penalty for the above.

This is just one example of the horrors awaiting us if the project comes to fruition.

And the far right is already screaming that any adult who mentions around kids that queer people exist is "grooming" children. Wear your Pride shirt past a playground? You're now a child groomer. Think they won't put that into law if allowed? You're naive.

The GOP currently controls the Supreme Court (which is how they overturned Roe v. Wade) and has a majority in one branch of congress. Imagine what will happen nationwide with the GOP controlling every branch of government, including supermajoroties in both houses of Congress.

Oh, and top GOP officials have also announced their desire to NUKE Gaza, so don't come at me with, "but I can't vote blue because Biden..." Or tell me how you think Gaza would somehow be better off with Trump and the GOP.

In France, the left and center joined together--even though they disagree vehemently on many issues (get two leftists together and they'll have three positions on any issue)--to stop the far right from totally taking over, because the one thing they ALL agree on is that fascists dictatorships are BAD.

Much the same with the UK finally kicking out their own neo-fascist party, the Torries, to install 400 Labour MPs. Not everyone loves Labour's policies, but virtually everyone with a brain cell recognizes that the Torries are fascists, and that FASCISM BAD.

"Every election, they tell us this is the most important election if our lives!" Yeah, because each election over the past several decades has been more important than the one before, until we are now at a tipping point between remaining a fucked up oligarchy with SOME resemblance to freedom, and an outright neo-fascist military dictatorship.

Trump has literally stated publicly his intent to criminalize dissent, use US armed forces against protesters (Kent State, but multiply it by thousands), purge all agencies and stuff them with those personally loyal to him, and use the DOJ to go after anyone he perceives as a threat to his political power, among other things.

And remember the things he did in office, like pulling the teeth of federal workplace protections for queer folks (which Biden reatored).

I don't care if you don't like Biden or Harris. Neither do I. But the alternative is Trump, and anyone telling you not to vote in 2024, or to vote third party, is rooting for Trump, and for Project 2025. Anyone telling you not to vote does not give one single solitary flying fuck about vulnerable populations in the US or anywhere else in the world.

"You're just being an alarmist!" Right. Like I was being alarmist when I predicted the failed Jan 6 coup attempt. Like I was being alarmist when I said the GOP would try to use control over SCOTUS to overturn Roe v. Wade.

Fucking vote.

[peachysunrize]

Tryst ⥃ Aemond Targaryen

Summary: Aemond walks in on his newly wedded wife changing, surely she is not as temperate as her father when she catches him eyeing her, is she?

Warnings: 18+ mdni! Smut, p in v, kind of enemies to lovers, VELARYON READER!!, reader has silver hair, virging!reader, fingering, reader is angry lol, breeding, lots of scratching and biting, porn no plot! English isn’t my first language<3

Word count: 2.7k+

A/n: I missed my pwp era so here is a short rough smut with our prince Aemond! Missed being unhinged, so here is a fiery reader who is just as crazy as Aemond🤭 Reblogs & comments are always appreciated!💕

Marrying Daemon’s oldest daughter was not something Aemond could ever imagine, especially since it was his uncle’s idea to offer your hand in marriage; perhaps you were too much of a rebel to be kept on Dragonstone.

He remembers how much you glared at him the day he and his family came to that old wet castle to visit you and your family, and to settle for an agreement so the qualms between the families would vanish — or at least try to make amends somehow.

What he did not expect was for you to be utterly disgusted and angry at him, to the point when he had to show others you were officially courting, you did not even spare him a glance.

He despises you just as much if not more.

But he does not know why he is walking towards your chambers after the supper which you left in a really angry manner, leaving everyone stunned but him. 

It is late as he walks through the dimly lit hallways of the Red Keep, an hour or two before the dead of the night, and his intentions are not clear enough to see why he is taking routes to where your chambers are. If only he knew why, he would try to avoid it at all costs.

He walks with his hands held behind him, chin up with his good eye scanning every tapestry on the wall, every knight who moves past him, in hopes of finding an answer for his intentions.

Your chambers are not much far from his, it would be too scandalous for husband and wife to be sleeping in different rooms, especially since your marriage happens to be the talk of every gathering and whispers of the court — not to anyone’s surprise, Daemon’s oldest daughter and Aemond Targaryen are a match of flames, burning each other until there is nothing but ashes — but you do not care if you are the subject of laughter among these lowly lords and ladies.

Aemond sighs, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his sleeves, trying to keep himself grounded as he walks towards the hallway that ends with a door to your room. He narrows his eye when he finds your knights nowhere to be seen, assuming you must have dismissed them yourself.

He reaches to knock on your door, taking in a deep breath to calm himself down before he rests his hand on the door, watching it slowly crack open. Why would you leave your door unguarded and open? Were you waiting for someone? Were you waiting for him?

With a curious look, he slowly pushes the door open, not wishing to startle you even though he could care less if you jump and scream out of fear, but he gives you this one privilege at least. He winces when the door makes a cracking sound, but he relaxes when he does not hear a sound of displeasure or concern coming from inside — in fact, the low humming catches him by surprise, making his ears perk at the sweet sound of melody filling your room.

When he has the door open enough to peek inside the room, he is taken aback by seeing you slowly disrobing, dropping layer after layer of your clothing on the ground, revealing your bare back to him. 

His lips part in shock, sighing as he takes the newly exposed skin in, watching you drop your clothes on the ground, walking around your nightshift to grab your hairbrush.

Aemond is lost; seeing his wife mildly nude for the first time since he said his vows was something he did not really think about. Every thought he has had about you was always filled with anger, rage, and hatred, but deep inside, he could feel his feelings bubbling with anticipation for something far beyond whatever he had already experienced.

And now, seeing you brush your silver locks with grace makes his chest tighten, but your bare back has his mind turn cloudy and sinful, leaving him breathless as he feels his leather pants tighten.

Subconsciously, he pushes the door open a bit more forcefully than he intended to, making a loud crying sound. He freezes, his eye widening when you scream and turn around, throwing the brush at his face, but he dodges in time, watching in horror as the brush flies to the hallway.

“What is your fucking business here?” You yell at him, reaching for one of your jewelry boxes, holding it up to threaten him with another attack, “Speak, now!”

“I…I—fucking gods, woman!”

He says it with gritted teeth, moving his head quickly when you throw the box at him, hitting the door as he closes it so none of your belongings get lost.

“Were you watching me?” You ask, laughing in disbelief as you walk quickly to grab the nearest book on your desk, throwing at him again, “I reckoned your brother was the pervert one, but it appears it runs in the family!”

“Stop this madness!” He yells back, shielding his face with his arms as the book comes close to hit him in the cheek, “I was not watching, do not think yourself so appealing—“

“You do not find your wife appealing?” You point the candle holder you grab in the blink of an eye towards Aemond, narrowing your eyes at him as you take a step closer, “You come into my room, watching me peel off my clothes until I am naked just to say you do not find me appealing?”

“I did not say that, wife—“ he holds his hands up, slowly backing away from you, his back hitting the wall with a soft ‘thud’ before he resumes talking, “I was merely disagreeing about how I am of a sick mind, I am not, I wished to talk to you—“

“Nonsense!” You step closer, holding the sharp candle holder in his direction, “You said it, I heard it with my own ears! I despise you for being here, for being my husband, for trying to break me while it is you who does not wish to warm my bed.”

“Drop that thing, wife,” he sighs, gently trying to reach and grab it from you but you take a step back suddenly, glaring at him, “Don’t force me to come here and take it from you.”

“I would like to see you try, husband,” Venom drips from your words while you stare daggers at him, your grip tightening around the candle holder “Get out of my room!”

“You are my wife, I will do as I please,” his tone matches yours as he stares back at you, his eye darkening at the sight of your chest visible underneath your thin nightshift, “If I wish to stay here, I will—“

“Get. Out!” 

Before you are given the chance to throw what you are holding at him, Aemond grabs you by your wrist, pulling you closer as he switches your positions and pushes you against the wall; one knee between your legs and both of his hands pinning your wrists to the wall with one next to your head and the other above it.

“Why must you be so difficult?” He whispers, his nostrils flaring as he glares down at you, his fingers tightening around your wrists until you whimper and drop the candle holder, chest heaving as you look up at him.

“I am a reflection of how you treat me,” you spit the words out, craning your neck to lean closer to him, your nose brushing against his, “I despise you for the air you breathe, for the wine you drink—“

“And you do believe that I don’t seeth every time I am reminded that you are my wife?” He pushes his nose against yours forcefully, keeping your head locked against his and the wall with his forehead on yours, his hot breath mingling with your quick panting, “I wish to tear through everything that reminds me of you and your father—“

“Then do, coward,” you cut him off, your eyes falling down to his pink lips, wiggling against his hold, trying to free yourself, “Make me hate you more than I already do.”

And he does; his lips meet yours in a searing kiss, knocking the breath out of your lungs as he lets go of one of your wrists to pull you in closer by your waist, his nails digging into your flesh.

Your hand goes to his soft silky hair, pulling on the hair tie roughly as you kiss him back, threading your fingers through his locks, tugging at the root of his hair while he bites down your lips, freeing your other wrist too.

Aemond’s hand comes up to cradle your jaw, his tongue pushing past your lips so he can taste you thoroughly. He bucks his knee to your clothed core, encouraging you to go ahead and take your fill, rock your hatred into oblivion.

You whine as you slowly grind down on him, your lips falling apart as you break the kiss to gasp for air, your hand tugging at his hair while your other hand goes to his doublet, undoing it quickly while your hips pick up the pace.

“Go on, wife,” he whispers, hand letting go of your jaw before he reaches down to rub your heat over your underwear, letting out a shaky sigh when he finds a wet spot on the fabric, “So much for hating me, your cunt is betraying you.”

“Fuck you—“

“Fuck me indeed,” he pushes your underwear aside, swiping his fingers through your wet folds, enjoying the broken whine you let out.

He leans down, prepping kisses and bites along your neck, sinking his teeth a bit too hard when you push his doublet down and dig your nails in his pecks. Aemond’s thumb circles your pearl, making you tremble under his touch as he makes your essence drip on your inner thighs.

You throw your head back when he gently prods your entrance with one finger, easing the digit inside your warm walls with ease because of your wetness. He hums against your collarbone, enjoying how slowly you are losing yourself in the feeling of being wrapped in his arms — although the scratches you are leaving on his chest through his undershirt are the opposite of what he thinks.

He adds another finger, scissoring you open as he pumps his finger in and out of you, going in knuckles deep while he curves his digits, enjoying how your face twists with pleasure and a fit of anger that fuels because of how it is him who is giving you this pleasure.

“I need more,” you whine, one hand coming down to rest against his wrist, keeping his hand there as he thrusts his fingers faster, the lewd sound of squelching echoing in the room.

“I will give you more,” he goes faster when he notices how your eyes drop shut and your legs start to shake around his hand, your walls gripping his fingers for dear life, “I will make you fall in love with me.”

“Impossible,” you gasp, toes curling as you shake and peak around his fingers, throwing your head back against the wall while you gush and release all over his hand, “You are unlovable.”

“As I said before…” he whispers before he pulls his fingers out, wiping your wetness on your nightshift before he grabs the side of the fabric and tears it in half, leaving your body bare to his eye, “Your body betrays you, wife.”

You look at him in shock, covering your breasts with your arms, but Aemond has none of it; he slaps your arms away, taking off his undershirt, revealing his smooth chest before he grabs you by the nape and pulls you in for another kiss.

Your lips crash into each other, your hands tugging and pulling on the other’s hair while Aemond leads you to the bed, nearly tripping over the pile of clothes. 

He drops you on the bed, quickly crawling on top of you to meet you halfway for another passionate kiss, his hips pressing against the side of your hip before you spread your legs for him, pulling him even closer.

You reach between your bodies to palm the growing tent in his pants, squeezing and relishing in the sound he makes in your mouth before you urge him to push his pants and breeches down enough to free his cock.

You loathe how pretty he is, how pretty his cock is. You despise him for being the definition of Targaryen beauty, but now, the man you hate the most, the man who you have the spiteful pleasure of calling your husband, is about to take you for the first time.

He knows, of course he knows, because the queen would never choose anything less than a noble lady for her precious son; so he goes gently after he strokes his length a few times, pumping it to full hardness. He guides the red weeping head of his dick to your entrance, pushing in slowly, his hands going to your hips as he sits up on his knees so he can watch as he breaches past your muscles, the tip of his cock disappearing inside you.

You writhe beneath him, fisting the bed sheets as you nod and wait for him to go all the way in, pushing you to your limits as the stretch begins to be a bit painful, but he brings your hands to his chest, urging you to scratch him as hard as you wish when you feel any discomfort.

Aemond thrusts himself inside you completely, groaning at the tight feeling of your cunt gripping him like a vice, holding onto him until he has carved the shape of his cock within your walls.

He drops forward, holding himself up by his hands on each side of your face before he starts hammering himself inside you, making you gasp and moan incoherent words underneath him — the princeling in him only lasted for a few minutes, and now, he is just the Aemond who finds you annoying and miserable, fucking you as you are; the wife he hates, the woman he craves.

The rise and fall of your chest grows faster, and you wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, fingers leaving red angry marks all over his shoulder blades and back while you lock your legs around his slim waist, keeping him caged against you.

There are no words exchanged, there is no need to when both of you are moaning and groaning at the feeling, biting each other until there are visible signs of your tryst for the court to see on the next morrow.

He feels your walls clenching around his girth, bringing both his and your high closer. One of his hands reaches down, circling your nub so you fall over the edge of bliss, euphoria rushing through your body.

He follows closely, hammering his cock deep inside you until he buries himself into you and paints your walls with his seed, his eye wide open as he stares down at you, lips parted and pupil blown.

He pulls out of you after his body stops shaking, dropping down on the bed next to you as he tries to catch his breath, his arm lying limp on top of your body.

You feel his cum dribbling out of you, alerting you of what you have done. Suddenly, a wave of hatred crashes into your head, and you turn your head to look at his peaceful face before you start shoving him down your bed.

“Get out, arsehol!” You pull the covers on you, keeping them secure against your chest as you try to shove him down on the floor, “Get out of my room!”

“Easy, woman,” he throws his hands up in defeat, fixing his pants before he grabs his undershirt and puts it on, “I do not intend to stay here longer than needed.”

“I hate you,” you say, pushing him out of the door with force, frowning when he laughs into your face but you do not wait for him to reply before you slam the door shut.

But you hear him from the other side of the door.

“Mutual feelings, wife.”