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geotjwrs · 6 months ago

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Hi can I request a Jenna Ortega x male reader where the reader is in the army and comes back to surprise her during the Grammys or the golden globes right after she gets an award

hero's return

Pairings ; Jenna Ortega x Male!Reader

Warning/s ; none

The night of the Golden Globes was filled with anticipation and nerves for Jenna Ortega, who was nominated for her outstanding performance in a critically acclaimed film. The atmosphere backstage buzzed with excitement as celebrities and nominees mingled, waiting for their moments to shine under the bright lights of Hollywood's grand event.

Jenna, adorned in a stunning gown that sparkled under the shimmering lights, nervously awaited her category's announcement. Cameras flashed, capturing every moment as she walked the red carpet with grace, her smile radiant yet tinged with an unspoken longing.

Meanwhile, Y/N, her devoted boyfriend, was thousands of miles away, serving in the military. They had been apart for months, communicating through sporadic calls and heartfelt letters, but Jenna's thoughts always wandered to him, especially on this special night.

As the award ceremony progressed, Jenna's heart pounded with excitement and nerves. When her name was finally called as the winner for Best Actress, she was overcome with a mix of emotions—joy, disbelief, and a twinge of sadness that Y/N couldn't be there to share this moment with her.

Standing on stage, holding the prestigious award in her hands, Jenna's voice wavered with emotion as she delivered her acceptance speech. "I am truly honored and humbled to receive this award. I want to thank my incredible cast and crew, my family for their unwavering support, and..." She paused, her eyes scanning the room, wishing Y/N could materialize before her.

"...and my boyfriend, Y/N," she continued, her voice catching. "He's not here tonight, but he's always believed in me, even from afar. This is as much his award as it is mine."

As Jenna made her way off the stage, the backstage area was abuzz with congratulations and excitement. She was enveloped in hugs and praise from fellow actors and industry veterans. Amidst the flurry of activity, a familiar voice called out her name.

"Jenna!"

She turned, her heart skipping a beat as she saw Y/N standing there, dressed in his military uniform. Shock and joy flooded her features as she dropped her award and ran towards him, ignoring the curious stares of those around them.

"Y/N!" Jenna cried out, throwing herself into his arms. Tears streamed down her face as she held him tightly, unable to believe he was actually here.

"I couldn't miss this moment," Y/N whispered into her ear, his voice thick with emotion. "I had to be here for you."

The backstage area erupted in applause and cheers as Jenna and Y/N embraced, their reunion a heartwarming spectacle amidst the glitz and glamour of the awards ceremony. They held onto each other as if afraid to let go, their love and longing finally reunited after months of separation.

"I can't believe you're here," Jenna murmured, her voice choked with tears of happiness.

"I wouldn't have missed it for the world," Y/N replied, brushing a stray tear from her cheek. "You deserve every bit of this."

After the initial shock wore off, Jenna and Y/N found a quiet corner backstage where they could have a moment of privacy. They sat together, holding hands and basking in the glow of their reunion.

"I've missed you so much," Jenna confessed, her eyes never leaving his.

Y/N smiled softly. "I've missed you too, every single day."

They talked for hours, catching up on everything they had missed in each other's lives. Jenna shared stories of her hectic filming schedule and the challenges of being in the spotlight, while Y/N recounted his experiences in the military and the longing he felt being away from her.

As the night drew to a close, Jenna and Y/N walked hand in hand through the bustling halls of the venue. They were surrounded by friends and well-wishers, but in that moment, it felt like there was no one else in the world but the two of them.

"You know," Y/N began, breaking the comfortable silence between them, "I have something for you."

Y/N reached into his pocket, his fingers closing around something small and precious. He took a deep breath, his heart pounding with nerves and excitement.

"Jenna," Y/N began, his voice steady but filled with emotion. He knelt down on one knee, drawing a small box from his pocket. Jenna gasped, her hands flying to cover her mouth in surprise.

"I've loved you from the moment I met you," Y/N continued, his eyes locked on hers. "You are my best friend, my confidante, and the love of my life. I can't imagine my future without you in it."

He opened the box to reveal a dazzling diamond ring, catching the light and casting a rainbow of colors around them.

"Jenna Marie Ortega, will you marry me?"

The room seemed to hold its breath as Jenna stared down at Y/N, her heart overflowing with love and joy. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she nodded eagerly, unable to find her voice amidst the overwhelming emotions.

"Yes," she managed to whisper, her voice barely audible but filled with certainty.

Y/N's face broke into a radiant smile as he slid the ring onto her finger, their hands trembling with the weight of their newfound promise. He stood and swept Jenna into his arms, lifting her off the ground as they spun in a joyous embrace.

Amidst cheers and applause from their friends and colleagues, Jenna and Y/N shared a kiss that sealed their commitment to each other. The room erupted into cheers as they announced their engagement, hugs and congratulations coming from all directions.

#dailywomen #imagine #fanfic #one shot #jenna ortega #jenna ortega fanfic #jenna ortega imagine #jenna ortega x male reader #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x y/n

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hotvintagepoll · 7 months ago

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Propaganda

Josephine Baker (The Siren of the Tropics, ZouZou)— Josephine Baker was an American born actress, singer, and utter icon of the period, creating the 1920s banana skirt look. She was the first black woman to star in a major motion film. She fought in the French resistance in WWII, given a Legion of Honour, as well as refusing to perform in segregated theatres in the US. She was bisexual, a fighter, and overall an absolutely incredible woman as well as being extremely attractive.

Joan Crawford (Dancing Lady, Mildred Pierce, The Women)— God, where do I start!!! Her face is so UNIQUE and compelling and stands out so much. I love her thick brows and high cheekbones. She has a school-marmy hardness too her that makes her a little scary and therefore sexy. Her low thick voice also does it for me. Despite being an unusual looking woman with an unusual face, she never loses her glamour. Just a gorgeous talented actress, AND she was some sort of gay!!!

This is round 5 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut. the famous banana skirt is mildly NSFW.]

Josephine Baker:

Black, American-born, French dancer and singer. Phenomenal sensation, took music-halls by storm. Famous in the silent film era.

Let's talk La Revue Negre, Shuffle Along. The iconique banana outfit? But also getting a Croix de Guerre and full military honors at burial in Paris due to working with the Resistance.

She exuded sex, was a beautiful dancer, vivacious, and her silliness and humor added to her attractiveness. She looked just as good in drag too.

So I know she was more famous for other stuff than movies and her movies weren’t Hollywood but my first exposure to her was in her films so I’ve always thought of her as a film actress first and foremost. Also she was the first black woman to star in a major motion picture so I think that warrants an entry

Iconic! Just look up anything about her life. She was a fascinating woman.

Joan Crawford:

I just love women that are very mean.

she was a smoke show in every decade, from the 20s to the 60s.

The classic matronly beauty with amazing eyebrows

of course there's a space for MILF joan but i want to just take a second and say she was so cute in her early movies (like grand hotel and the women)! those parts often get forgotten but her stardom shines in them just as much as in her older #queen #icon roles

Misremembered for wire hanger hatred, this original screen queen mastered the art of the comeback and refused to let Hollywood toss her aside as she aged. The term “auteur” is usually revered for directors or writer-directors, but most critics have one actor they’ll give that title to as well: Crawford—anyone who knows classic movies already has a “Crawford picture” in their head. She knew how to style herself and promote herself. She made herself a star and kept herself fixated in the Hollywood firmament. What’s hotter than knowing just how hot you are?

(don’t think about Mommie Dearest right now) Joan was known for being super nice to all the like crew of the movies she worked on and she’d get everyone gifts. Joan would hold movie nights at her house and knit at the back of her home theater. Joan was sooo obsessed with other women including Greta Garbo, whos dressing room she would obsessively and purposefully walk by. She said that while working on Grand Hotel, Garbo grabbed her face and “if there ever was a time in my life where I would’ve been a lesbian, that was it.” But like Joan also probably did sleep with women including Barbara Stanwyck. Joan was so obsessed with Bette Davis, screening multiple movies of hers in a day at her watch party, constantly trying to spend time with her or do a movie together, insisting on the dressing room next to hers at Warners and sending her daily gifts… etc. Once Bette said that sex was gods joke to humanity and Joan said “I think the joke is on her.” Joan fucked a lot. Joan got caught publicly fucking a man and sent a letter to the woman who saw them basically saying “I bet it excited you” and the woman was like you know what. It did. Joan was best friends with a gay man. Joan was an actually genuinely good actress even though people mocked her a lot for being like cheap and stupid (partially because she never finished school because her family was broke). Joan was so insane and so cool that’s all.

#joan crawford #josephine baker #hotvintagepoll #fuck that old woman #ladies 5

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monster4monster-bracket · 4 months ago

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Propaganda under the cut

Hob/Delloso

Starts out as a star-crossed, Beauty-and-the-Beast-style romance between a very animalistic, awkwardly formal, military man—well, goblin (Captain Hob) and a very elfen-esque Master of Ceremonies (Rue), who’s busy with the job of hosting the huge, politically important party they just put together, and is also technically a member of another royal court. SPOILERS: Turns out Rue is an owlbear under their glamour, aka just as massive and animalistic as Hob. Both of them really love the other’s body specifically because it looks like theirs rather than fitting in with the traditional fey standards of beauty, so they’re lowkey serving t4t-vibes, despite existing in a setting where there are zero social expectations around gender. Technically they’d be a monster x monster pairing no matter what, as they’re both fey, but the fact that they both stick out even among the extreme visual variety of the fey people, and very much feel the weight of that exclusion, really makes them a monster x monster pairing in spirit too.

Polymechs

So they are all aliens to each other. They are also like canon found family, and are immortal. I love this ship because the nine of them deserve happiness and some love because they are doomed to have heartache in their lives. They spend so much time together and will die alone and while they are together I think they should kiss.

#monster4monster #monster4monster bracket #poll bracket #poll tournament #round 4 #the mechanisms #the mechanisms band #polymechs #dimension 20 a court of fey and flowers #dimension 20 #dimension20 #d20 #d20 captain hob #d20 delloso

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nocternalrandomness · 10 months ago

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Pin-Up Model Roxanne Fumero

#Pin up #Pin up model #pin up girl #aviation pin up #military #glamour #lingerie #airplane #Roxanne Fumero #Captain Bombshell

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haxyr3 · 12 days ago

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Russian Words That Have Two Soft Signs

One of the random phrases Duolingo throws to Russian learners is "В каком слове есть два мягких знака?", which word has two soft signs in it?

I was a bit puzzled with this question, so I checked. Here are some actual Russian words that have two soft signs in them:

сельдь - herring

женьшень - ginseng

пельмень - meat dumpling, pelmen

вольность - liberty

вскользь - in passing, casually

пользователь - user

уменьшительный - diminutive

лояльность - loyalty

самостоятельность - autonomy

функциональность - functionality

национальность - nationality

And there are words with three soft signs in them! For example, обольстительность - charm, glamour.

And one word had a hard sign along with two soft signs:

фельдъегерь - military or governmental courier

Apparently, it was borrowed from German.

Now you know what to answer when Duo asks you this question :)

#russian #duolingo #soft sign

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anghraine · 27 days ago

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I knew I'd written a screed explaining my actual perspective on why there's such a disparity between Faramir's aspirations for Gondor in victory and what Aragorn as king of Gondor actually does. I remembered feeling even at the time that it was a harsher rant about it than I'd normally post, but I didn't want to write it again from scratch.

Finally! I did manage to find where I put that rant—it was actually embedded within a friends-locked Dreamwidth post dealing with an "original" short story I'd written about the convention of a fairy-tale hero getting rewarded with the hand of the king's daughter. The story involves the hero's evolution into a conqueror who I had envisioned as a cross between post-LOTR Aragorn and Cesare Borgia, and eventually my post went off on this tangent that, yeah, is pretty much my opinion:

The point isn't "this is what Aragorn and Faramir are really like" or "this is what they actually do in LOTR." It's more about how Tolkien frames Aragorn as a good and noble and heroic warrior-king and kindly, merciful overlord whom we're expected to believe has good, noble reasons for the distant military campaigns he and Éomer go on until Éomer (aged 28 in LOTR) is an old man. To go by Faramir's speech about wanting Minas Tirith to be a "queen among other queens" rather than a ruler of other, subjugated cities, and going by so much else that Tolkien wrote, it's not that JRRT is broadly uncritical of overlords and kings and empires, but that the rules are kind of broken for Aragorn specifically. This is what George RR Martin's notorious tax policy quote misses IMO. His argument is that Aragorn's arc represents Tolkien's general perspective on leadership, which I think is a very narrow way of viewing Tolkien's work, and why the quote seems so inadequate as a way of understanding leadership in The Silmarillion. And good intentions making good kings is a baffling way of understanding (say) the Númenórean kings of the Second Age. Aragorn gets relatively special treatment because he, personally, is so special. He can become a benevolent and merciful overlord of his enemies, and noble king who brings prosperity, and a victor in far-flung battles, without ever doing anything wrong.

This is a sharp contrast with someone like Tar-Aldarion, whose dream of building Númenor into a naval superpower is far from pure. It's partly motivated by basically good intentions (he recognizes the very real threat that is going to rise long before most people do, and is trying to prepare for when it comes), and yet it's made clear that this entails destructive, terrible actions that cause a lot of needless suffering, and that Aldarion himself is a deeply flawed person with deeply flawed motives.

Essentially, Aragorn gets the glamour of empire without having to do actual imperialisms in the story. The reality that imperial power necessitates doing imperialism is both kind of denied with regard to Aragorn, because he is the most special boy and a magic exception to this somehow, and also kind of vaguely acknowledged in a way that's shunted into euphemistic summaries and references in the Appendices and such. So the point for me was less an argument that Aragorn actually committed specific imperialist actions, but more about pushing back against the idea that that kind of power is achievable without the moral baggage of imperialism and autocracy.

#anghraine babbles #anghraine rants #legendarium blogging #legendarium fanwank #aragorn critical #long post #tar aldarion #númenórë #ondonórë blogging

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blingblong55 · 1 year ago

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Smooth Operator- 141

Based on a request:

heard you're obsessed with F1? how about a fem f1 driver reader x 141 (anyone you choose or all of them) what they think about it, or maybe a bit of an angst bcs you were in a crash (like zhou on Silverstone maybe?) and they were scared

F!Reader, angst, car accident, F1 x 141,

A/N: As an F1 the title was a must...(In this home we love Carlos Sainz)

The life of luxury and glamour any other motorsport wished to have is in the palm of your hands. 23 races a year in different countries and tracks, you know your job is not just any ordinary sport. How did you meet four military SAS soldiers when your whole life has consisted of being in F1 and winning the championship?

It's hard to explain, but you met them on a race week. Laswell had given Price four tickets for him and the other men as a token of appreciation. Silverstone is considered one of the best tracks to race at as a driver and a fan, on press day the men found themselves lost, mainly because Ghost was stubborn enough to ask anyone for directions. They eventually ended up wandering through the paddock, unknown to them they passed legends of the sport and the drivers themselves.

Soap tried to take a selfie with the team and then you passed by, the only female driver in the current grid. "Can yer please take a picture of us?" Soap's accent is strong. It was the first time since you became a driver that someone didn't ask for a picture of you, from them on they became your number one fans and your closest friends. The men are now known friends of yours amongst security guards, mechanics, engineers, other drivers and even the team principals. They adore being there for you like you are for them when they want to talk about the trouble their missions put them through.

Currently, the five of you are in Budapest for the Hungarian Gran Prix this weekend and after another victorious deployment, the men have tagged along. Soap and Gaz have been with you the whole week, from sitting and watching interviews to watching your times during the Free Practice runs. Ghost and Price joined you for Quali, cheering on from the pits. Soap is wearing some tacky shirt to support his favourite driver, you and your teammate. Secretly, Gaz is hoping the Red Bull men start at the front of the race but he won't let anyone know.

Today is race day, and around three- hundred thousand people are in attendance plus those around the world, watching the 20 drivers and hoping their favourite wins.

Lap 1, you and the rivalry team were close to colliding but soon you were in second place. By lap 25 your teammate had crashed with a Haas and had to retire, your team kept cheering you on, wanting to break the winning streak of the Dutch driver. Lap 62, you were leading the race, that is until the two cars behind you, consisting of the Dutch (Ver) and Spanish (Alo) drivers, started to fight for high positions. One spin from the Ferrari driver caused the Spanish driver to drift and hit the car of Verstappen. Number 1(formally 33) tried to brake but he unfortunately hit your car, causing you to spin and before you knew it you went rolling in the air.

Yello flags turned to red flags, and your car split in half. Price and Ghost feared the worst, Price had seen an accident similar to yours in 1996, the day he knew the legend of the sport would soon just be a memory, yours was much worse, the high speed, the way your car was in half and the fact that the cameras only showed the paddock and crowd. No one knew of your condition.

When Verstappen got out of his car he immediately ran to yours, the fire marshalls telling him to stay away but he didn't mind. Ghost for the first time in years prayed, he didn't believe in anything but for you, he was willing to pray and believe. Believe you were alive and that at least the worst you could sustain was a concussion.

Gaz then regretted not hugging you before the cameras were on, patting your helmet like the other men had done every race they went on. All the cameras were showing was the crowd, how silent they had gotten when the incident was shown for just a split second. All the other drivers back to the pits. All but two, medics rush to you and the Dutch driver, fire marshals pushing Verstappen off.

Once he got to the pits, Ghost had to be sat down, he wanted to confront the driver. Price walked to him and asked about your condition, "She...it didn't look well, I didn't see blood but all I could see was how they tried to get her out of the car." It was clear that he too was afraid of the worst, all drivers, from the younger ones to the older ones. They knew the chances of you surviving weren't much, the halo can protect so much but the way you rolled in the air and how the condition of your car wasn't the best told them to just pray and stay silent.

Gaz took a walk and had to cry elsewhere because he couldn't bear to let others know how he felt. Part of him felt like it was his fault for this, maybe if he too would've patted your helmet or at least said "Good luck", maybe you'd be winning the race and maybe just maybe you wouldn't be in that shit box they call a car.

Soap knew best, knew how all his friends were and he knew about Gaz and how he could be feeling. He walked around, searching for him. Price and Ghost watched as your car got towed and covered to prevent anyone from seeing it. Price asked around, to drivers and team principals, "How bad does it look?" "Can she make it?" "Any news from her?" all asked but not much answered. You see, you had told them previously that if something like this were to happen never answer Price or Ghost. The race was postponed, to start in 30 minutes.

Price and Ghost walked around until they found the other two men, one hugging the other as the other cried. "Gaz-" Price tried to ask him a question only to be shushed by Soap who had become protective of his friend. The news of your well-being later arrived because from previous accidents the sport has learned to keep it all hushed. This news whether good or bad could be the end or beginning of confessions and stories.

“WE HAVE TO REMEMBER THESE DAYS. THERE IS NO GUARANTEE THEY WILL LAST FOREVER. ENJOY THEM AS LONG AS THEY LAST.” – SEBASTIAN VETTEL

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princessanneftw · 11 months ago

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Fendi pays tribute to Princess Anne with themed Milan show

This was the designer’s witty love letter from one strong, forthright woman within a powerful dynasty to another

Stephen Doig for the Daily Telegraph

Just this week, a colleague was extolling the wardrobe virtues of the “accidentally stylish” Princess Anne. And it seems that Silvia Venturini Fendi, the formidable matriarch of the Roman fashion house, is in agreement.

“I fell in love with the style of Princess Anne who, to my mind, is the most elegant woman in the world,” said Fendi, backstage in Milan. “When I saw the Coronation last year with Princess Anne in her uniform, I thought she looked beautiful. So I said ‘let’s be inspired for a men’s collection’.” The collection took the codes of the Princess Royal’s singular approach to dressing and applied them to men’s clothing, with a dusting of Fendi luxury in the mix.

“It’s a little bit Town and Country,” Fendi said of the distinctly British homage. “The Princess Royal is very rigorous in how she dresses, with this kind of military minded attitude, but feminine at the same time. She has a life outside the spotlight. She’s kind of an anti-fashion person, and to me that’s something that’s actually very fashionable and chic.”

Princess Anne’s status as a style icon over the years certainly hasn’t been by design on her part – leave the Princess of Wales to the Burberry while she dons House of Bruar – and was never the intention of the no-nonsense and hardworking royal, who favours practical country attire and Oakley shades over couture and experimental shapes, horse trials over the Gucci horsebit loafer. But that same sense of self-assuredness, stoicism and very British approach to dressing is just what appealed to Fendi in theming her show around the royal.

In actual terms, that translated into twinsets and chunky tweed skirts, heritage fabric coats – plaids spliced on plaids for a layered effect – waxed jackets and Wellington boots. The kind of attire built for yomps at Balmoral and Gloucestershire horse trials rather than the bars of Milan’s Brera district. The colours were those of the British countryside; olive, moss, oak and stone hues that evoked Gatcombe’s Green & Pleasant Land. The skirts, coincidentally, were in fact big, blousy Bermuda shorts designed to ape the appearance of Princess Anne’s solid kilts, although the royal herself has always mixed up the gender codes with her upright military uniform, so perhaps she’d approve of a bit of fluidity in that respect.

This being Fendi, a bit of experimentation with fabrication also weaved its way into the collection, with a tufted coat actually made from slivers of denim and some plush shearling on cropped jackets.

What Princess Anne would make of the sparkly suits on the willowy young men on the catwalk – perhaps a nod to her 1970s glamour – as well as the screaming furor from fans outside due to the presence of K-Pop stars and actors James Franco and Kit Harrington is anyone’s guess. But Silvia Venturini Fendi is no stranger to the singular position of being a strong, forthright woman within a powerful dynasty. It was a witty stylistic love letter from one woman of substance to another.

#kinda obsessed with the fact that this was inspired by anne #like it should happen more often #more fashion shows inspired by anne pls #annespired #princess anne #princess royal #fendi

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geniemillies · 4 months ago

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Yearning For Spring | Ch. 2 | Tamlin x Oc

◇— Chapter 2 - The Lighthouse

<<Ch.1 ||◇|| Ch.3>>

✧ masterlist

Ch. Warnings: brief mention of murder (no one important), King of Hybern is a warning on his own.

For years I slept only to dream of spring and an eternal field of flowers. For years I lived in daydreams where I dared break free from my cage, to spend my days without a mask or a glamour on myself. Living in my thoughts seems to be the only remedy to the cruel reality I wake up to everyday. I tried my best to hang on to the memory of that golden haired boy at the terrace, I cling to it every chance I get. And yet no matter how much I burn his face in my mind it fades through the years that slip by me.

The last I saw him he had been crying, his hands bloody while emerald eyes pleaded to me. His face is all but blurry in my head. But his voice..

His voice still plagues my thoughts.

Four hundred and fifty years have passed, I've grown into something unrecognisable. What used to be the meek little girl who served as the King's servant has now climbed the ranks in his Court. Throughout the years I grew tired of always running to him, filling his cup and holding his wine and sought something greater. I was not spared from military training. I trained and bettered myself alongside the many children that wished to serve the King with a greater purpose. My first kill was a Lord in his Court. Lord Galdiir, the sleeze who'd always make advances at me. I can still remember how the King’s face twisted in cruel satisfaction at my bloodied state, on a bed, with the Lord's head limp on a pillow before me.

“Red suits you.” He once said.

That is when he first realized that there was more to me than just his cupbearer. I was invited to his tower where he worked. He taught me how to wield dark magic and cast spells without needing the Mother's gifts to do so. He taught me until I felt my hands melting off my bones, my power seeping out of me, clawing to be free.

He awakened something in me that even I am terrified of. He said it is a good thing to fear one's self. One must know the monster to properly unleash it.

The King has always been a student of the dark arts. Everyone knows of his experiments and more often than not he shares that hobby with his people in the most cruel of ways. My resilience in both physical and magical training sparked a curiosity in him and I became a subject to his experiments.

Those experiences are ones I try to forget the most.

Meanwhile I entered competitions and duelled soldiers of varying ranks, my strength ever growing thanks to countless hours with a sword and on the floor writhing from his experiments. In Hybern, the only way one can get what they want is by taking it by force. By winning. So I took and I won a million times over. My many triumphs lead me to a seat in his Court serving as another commander of armies. While I still do run to him at every beck and call, at least now I don't have fill his goblet.

I worked my ass off earning such a title. The last battle I won for something I wanted, it was Amarantha and I who clashed blades in a ring. She was his second in command and I wanted that title. I won it in exchange for her hatred. Not like she didn't hate me before but now she just despises me with every fibre of her being.

And now she's gone, turned her back on Hybern and while I do not miss her, the duty of keeping armies in check now falls into my hands alone. The bitch. The nerve of her.

The King seethed for days. His throne room is a disarray of broken furniture and tattered tapestries. Amarantha hasn't sent us back ravens with word of her progress with her mission in Prythian. Turns out she has abandoned her duties and crowned herself High Queen in light of her success of manipulating the entirety of the Prythian Courts. Now I hear she's trapped all the Lords in a cave somewhere.

Matters concerning the neighbouring islands never reach me as my duties are solely in Hybern so I can only rely on Court rumours and gossip of what she might be doing over there. And even then, I cannot trust their whispers.

“Welcome back, Commander.” Two voices said in unison as I walked into the castle, the large doors opening at my presence.

“Brannagh. Dagnan.” I nod to them as they welcome me back. My heart swells with an aching I try to ignore. They used to hug me back from my travels, prying my pockets for any sign of a gift. But they've grown too. And while the King favoured me when it comes to testing spells and experiments they were not spared from that particular hobby.

And they were not as resilient as I was.

I can scarcely recognize them. For there's nothing left in those eyes. They might as well be strangers to me. And I will forever mourn their souls.

Where ever they might be now.

“How is he?” I ask.

“Better.”

“And the throne room?”

“Better.”

“Good.”

As we reached the doors to the throne room, “Your Grace—” I bow–no. I duck and I feel the twins do the same behind me just before I feel a vase thrown to my head.

“Ah, great you're here.” He breathes deeply before running his fingers through his crownless head. “Leave us.” He orders and the twins immediately disappear and the door behind me shuts closed.

“My King.” I step forward, examining the ruined throne room. The twins either lied or he threw another tantrum.

“Little dove.” I cringe at the nickname.

I bow slightly. “At your service.”

“The ‘High Queen’ of Prythian does not wish to speak with her King. She rejects every attempt at a negotiation. She has cut ties with Hybern. The little...” He trails off, struggling to maintain his graceful front before letting out a half laugh.

I walk towards the round table at the centre of the room, my eyes skimming past the many scrolls spread open on the dark marble. “It is difficult to tug on a dog’s leash when it's put a crown on its head.” I look up at him as he walks past, returning to the dais and back on his throne, menacingly slow. “Shall I fly to Prythian and seek her out? I will gladly rip her head and return it to you. Maybe then she'll remember where her loyalties lie.”

“No..” He breathes out. “No. We do nothing. Nothing. For now.” He collects himself. “This is not a loss.” He whispers to himself, a smile forming on his face.

“If my Amarantha seeks to play games I am.. more than happy to indulge her. Let her play Queen a while longer.” He stands again only to walk towards a window overlooking the sea, where Prythian lands peak at the horizon.

The balcony doors open and he calls me to follow behind him. The open sea greets us, the air a smell of death and rot from the bones and cadaver that lay beneath the castle and onto the cliffs below. Failed experiments. I try not to look down but their stench seems to claw their way up to me even at this height.

As I approach him, I speak up. “Amarantha is a fool to challenge you, my King. If she thinks that a crown atop her head is enough to save herself from Hybern's wrath.”

He hums. “She is a fool. A clever, cunning little thing but a fool nonetheless. I always knew she would falter after her countless requests to invade have been denied. Too impatient. Too driven by anger and a desire for vengeance. She lacks clarity. Even more when that sister of hers died. Yet another embarrassment.” He turns to me.

“Tell me, little dove. If I had sent you to overtake Prythian, what would've happened instead?” His question takes me off guard but I do not show him not a flinch of surprise.

“While I may not be as cunning as she, I would make swift work of the island. Bring the courts to heel without unnecessary bloodshed and bring them right before your feet. Amarantha has always been distracted by other pleasures on her conquests. Pleasures that are irrelevant and therefore, useless to our cause. If I had been sent instead of her I would've done the job by now. And we would’ve found the Cauldron and the books.”

“Hm. Precisely why you are my second in command. Not her. But I needed you here so she was the secondary option. A poor choice I will not commit again.”

“The poor choice was committed by her. Not yours.”

“Do not attempt to coddle me, child.” He hissed and I almost flinched at his tone. “I know where I've faulted.”

I close my eyes. “Apologies.”

“I have decided. We will indulge in this little game of hers. A.. sort of experiment if you will. I wonder how long until the High Lords break under the pressure and rebel against her. Or if she surprisingly succeeds my expectations and brings them to heel– hm. I'm rather curious now. Excited even.” I force myself not to cringe. His experiments have always been brought to the most extreme ends. Even when such games are losses to him, he is not affected much. In fact, he is amused by all results whether or not they turn out to be failures. The subjects of said experiments however… suffer all consequences.

I raise a brow. “You will let her do as she pleases?”

“Why not? See if she can actually be of use for once. I consider myself a very, very patient male. I will wait..~”

“That you are.” I look down. “What if they rise against her? And this experiment fails? What of our own plans for the mortal realm?”

“It is no consequence if the experiment succeeds or not. If she manages to control the seven courts then it's a win. If she does not then I will have the pleasure to trample them myself. Either way, I will be happy with the results.”

“I see.”

We stand in silence, our gaze never tearing away from the island that pokes out in the horizon. Spring. Autumn. And for a moment I hesitate to ask him. “Has she.. gained control of all the Courts?”

“The winds return with word that she has. But they prove to be unreliable these days. She has ways of turning the Attor completely to her side so they do not. Return. To. Me. Anymore.”

“If you wish for a messenger I am available.”

He smiles, a cruel and wicked smile. “Eager to visit Prythian are we?” He asks. I avoided his gaze and swallowed the lump in my throat. “You have never set foot outside Hybern since.. that little expedition I sent you all those years ago, haven’t you..?”

“No, my King. I have never. But visiting foreign lands is of no importance to me.”

“Surely you've been… Curious?”

“Perhaps. But Hybern is my home. I'm well content here.”

“So you are.” He looks at the sea then to me. He shrugs. “Why not? I shall send you as a messenger. Tomorrow you are to step foot in whatever hovel she has made her castle and tell that traitor that if she does not kneel before her King then she will break. Scare her a little.”

I nod. “I will see to it done immediately.” But before I leave the balcony he stops me.

“And another thing?” His voice echoes, louder than the waves below.

“Yes?”

He approached me slowly, his body relaxing and he breathes deeply. And as his black eyes stared into mine I saw a softness in them that I once longed for.

He flicks his wrist and my mask disintegrated into glowing embers, revealing my face in its entirety to him. He cups my cheek with one cold hand, showing his illusion of affection that could only make my stomach turn. I wish to flinch away at his touch. “You are my second in command. Amarantha is a fool who lets her emotions control her. Her sister is the same. They are my greatest embarrassment and no longer will I tolerate such failures in my Kingdom.”

His gaze is intense, his eyes a gateway to a hellscape I no longer wanted to look into. My shields are up immediately, like an iron wall of defence, showing him only what he wants to see. My blind devotion.

“See to it that you won't disappoint me either.” His head tilts ever so slightly, his thumb caressing my cheek, his voice soft even as he threathens me.

“I would never betray you, my King.” I held my head high.

“I know you wouldn't, daughter.” He grins, using that word on me. Daughter. As if it held meaning other than that I am a most beloved possession and nothing else. My blood boils beneath my skin.

“I am not Clythia. I am not Amarantha. I have no use for emotions. Feelings are useless but I offer my love and devotion to you and you alone. And my strength and power, all but yours to wield like the sharpest of blades.”

Something flashes in his eyes that is akin to pride. Prideful he is, no doubt. He's made me into his image. Forced me to glamour my silver hair to his onyx black locks and forced a mask on my face at all times just so he wouldn't see my mother's eyes when he looks at me. Through his experiments he's moulded me into a soulless, obedient little thing, always waiting for his command.

And for four hundred years I worked to the brink of death to convince him that he's truly broken me.

I am not broken. Not yet.

Not yet..

— —

I return to the Lighthouse, the smell of rot and decay never reaches this place. Not since I took over it. While the skies above were still tinted and foggy and the pine forests nearby still lifeless and dull as always, it is.. home. A safe haven as opposed to the rest of the island, anyway.

A great estate is built around the lighthouse, a gothic styled piece of architecture in the edge or the cliffs. It used to belong to a rather vicious priestess belonging to the King's Court. The old crone was in charge of taking in orphan children and drilling their heads with religious nonsense. Though, that was before she became a victory of mine and the estate passed down to me. No longer did I wish to live in that horrid palace for a moment longer.

The children she kept.. stayed. And.. additional orphans came soon after because, much to Father's dismay, I still do possess emotions. Sympathy amongst other things. Though, unlike the priestess in charge before I did not push outdated teachings into their little heads. In fact, I taught them nothing at all. They just.. live here.

Most of them..

To avoid the nightmare that is the King finding out that I take in orphan children, I challenged him to a duel to keep the Lighthouse strictly my business and whatever happens in these lands are to be turned a blind eye on by anybody. Granted, I lost the duel. But to a dramatic turn of events he commended me for my confidence and sheer audacity to challenge him. He let me have my privacy, claiming that whatever I do in my off time is none of his or anyone's business and we never spoke of the Lighthouse ever since.

“The children are awfully obedient today. Not one child missing from lessons. Most of them can read two full sentences.” I heard Vel behind me as she undoes my braids and brushes my hair. The Lighthouse is the only place where I can drop my glamoured hair and the mask, the only place that I can ever be someone else other than High Commander or Princess or little dove. The duel with my Father to keep this place private was a bloody one. I still have scars from his sword from that battle. But it was worth it to keep these people close to me.

I don't know what I'd do if he gets his hands on this place. The children. Vel.

If anything happens to them I might actually break at last.. They’re the reason I haven’t yet faltered.

“You okay..?” Vel asked me as she continued to brush my hair. “Has something happened?”

I shook my head and looked down at my hands, a small, green fabric in my palms. The handkerchief the golden boy gave to me all those centuries ago. I rub it in my hands, as if touching it would make me remember his face that's all but fading in my mind. I never lost it. Never let go of it, not even for a second. It's always nestling inside my pockets, tied around the leather of my armoured wrist, on my head serving as an accessory– Never.

It's the one thing I have of him. The one thing that keeps me from forgetting just how green his eyes were that night.

I close my eyes. My mate..

“I'm going to Prythian.” I declare and I feel her shift behind me. “Negotiate with Amarantha. See what she's up to or if she's willing to return to Hybern.”

I look up at the raven-haired girl, her expression twisting into a sickly one. “Will you..”

I nod. “I will confirm it for you.” Her shoulders soften a bit as she thanks me before she turns around, pacing the room. She looks even more at unease.

“She will kill them. I see what she does in that throne room, what she encourages.”

“I know. I know..” I look away.

“I'll try my best to lessen her damage. No matter how light my efforts might be. Though I doubt she hasn't already traumatised the people.” I breathe deeply, and looking at Vel now, with her face filled with dread, I know she's thinking of it too.

“Please.. make sure she doesn't hurt him.” She pleads. “Please, Niamh.”

“I cannot guarantee that. Amarantha has always been a spiteful little creature. If the King cannot control her, what hope will be there for me?”

I can see the hope die in her eyes almost instantly and I falter. For her I falter.

“While I cannot guarantee your brother's safety..” I sucked in a breath and stepped closer. I cup her face and touch our foreheads together, an act of reassurance.

“I'll try my best, Velaria.”

— —

A/n: cough. Iykyk. Also a little bit of math here. Last chapter was set two years after the Treaty/War and we know the war lasted for seven years. And we know Tamlin was born just around the beginning of the War. So during that party Tamlin was nine years old. Niamh is around his age, maybe younger. They were both just babies :') if I'm not mistaken.. And if I'm right then canonically Tamlin's father has been bringing him to Hybern around that age. Amarantha when I catch you..

#tamlin x oc #tamlin x reader #pro tamlin #tamlin #tamlin acotar #acotar tamlin

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