#Filthy Monarchy

[xtruss]

Filthy Monarchy | Cost of the Crown: How The British Filthy Royal Family Hides Its Wealth From Public Scrutiny

Ahead of the coronation of King Charles III, the Guardian’s Cost of the crown series exposes the entrenched secrecy around the royal family’s money and wealth

— By David Pegg and Paul Lewis

How much money will the coronation of King Charles III cost the British public? What tax rate will our new king pay on his private income? How many engagements did “working royals” such as the Dukes of Gloucester and Kent attend over the last five years? How much were they paid? How much rent do Princesses Beatrice and Eugenie, who are not working royals, pay for residences in royal palaces?

In recent weeks, the Guardian has posed all of these questions to Buckingham Palace. The responses boil down to “ask someone else”, “work it out for yourself”, or simply “you have no right to know”. We beg to differ.

Obituaries of Queen Elizabeth II uniformly applauded her calm stewardship of the realm, or her supposed non-interference in British politics. None mentioned another hallmark of her reign: entrenched secrecy, which has given rise to a culture in which the British people are deprived of the most basic information about the monarchy.

Queen Elizabeth prepares to sign her Commonwealth Day message in 2021. Official papers uncovered by the Guardian revealed how she and her advisers repeatedly abused crown consent to secretly alter British laws. Photograph: Newspix International

Correspondence with the monarch or the heir, whether seismic or harmless, is banned from disclosure. Parliamentary criticism of conduct of royal family members, no matter how disgraced, is prohibited. The palace says the royal archives – the repository of our constitutional monarchy’s history – are open to “any serious researcher”. However they are the private property of the Windsors, who grant their permission before researchers can examine them.

Nowhere is the refusal to let the light in more fiercely enforced by the royals than over financial matters. The wills of even obscure members of the family are censored by judicial decree. The royals closely guard the secrets of their financial wealth, insisting it is “private” even when it is clearly born of their public roles.

It should not detract from Elizabeth II’s achievements to observe how this addiction to secrecy allowed the most unacceptable and corrosive practices to take root. In the past three years, official papers uncovered by the Guardian have revealed how the Queen and her advisers repeatedly abused the procedure of crown consent to secretly alter British laws, including, in 1973, as part of a successful bid to conceal her “embarrassing” private wealth from the public.

Until at least 1968, and very probably after, Elizabeth II’s household did not appoint “coloured immigrants or foreigners” to clerical roles, although they were permitted to work as domestic servants. Even today, Buckingham Palace insists it only complies with non-discrimination law voluntarily. Does the king approve of this? What other abuses have yet to be revealed? And how are they going to come to light when the monarchy is exempt from the Freedom of Information Act (FoI)?

Windsor town, and castle (L), prepare for the coronation of King Charles. How much money will the ceremony cost the British public? Photograph: Maureen McLean/Rex/Shutterstock

Today, the Guardian is launching Cost of the crown, an investigation into royal wealth and finances. In the coming days and weeks, our reporting will reveal information in the public interest about the fortunes that have been quietly amassed by the royals by dint of their public function. Our reporting will also demonstrate the vast challenge of obtaining answers to the most simple of questions.

Take, for example, the question of how much public money is spent on security for the royal family. The government, so often the monarch’s ally over matters of secrecy, claims that to disclose even just a single totalised figure for the entire family, without any further details whatsoever, would constitute an unacceptable threat to their safety.

It refuses to explain this reasoning in any detail, or why heads of state in other developed countries, including French and US presidents, can publish details about the costs of their security.

Instead, an FoI request to disclose the security costs of British royals was rejected, first by the Home Office and then, on appeal, by the Information Commissioner’s Office – forcing the Guardian to instruct lawyers last month to bring a further appeal at the information tribunal. To say it will take months to get an answer would be optimistic.

It took our colleague Rob Evans 10 years and a trip to the supreme court to secure the release under FoI of Prince Charles’s “black spider memos”, which showed how the heir to the throne lobbied senior government ministers on everything from badger culling to alternative herbal medicines. The government spent more than £400,000 on legal costs in an ultimately failed bid to keep the memos secret.

A copy of a 2004 letter from Charles to the then prime minister, Tony Blair; one of a series of his private letters to government ministers published after a ruling by the UK’s highest court. Photograph: Philip Toscano/PA

This is not merely a problem for journalists. Academics, biographers, archivists, activists, curious citizens and even parliamentarians seeking basic information are denied clear answers. Rory Cormac and Richard Aldrich, historians of Britain’s intelligence services, are well acquainted with official secrecy where it is warranted.

“Richard and I have both spent our entire careers trying to write histories of MI5 and MI6,” Cormac said. “We completely understand the need for secrecy around intelligence services. We spend our time going through archives, trying to piece together snippets of declassified material, to arrive at something historically rigorous. We think the intelligence services are the secret state. But they are like WikiLeaks compared to the royal family.”

How Hard Are The Filthy Royals Working For Their Money?

In 1993, John Major’s government published an open government white paper that was ahead of its time in setting out a vision for an informed citizenry, including on royal matters. It declared: “Records relating to the royal family will be treated in the same way as all other records.”

The previous year, Elizabeth II acknowledged in a speech to the City of London’s Guildhall that “no institution – City, monarchy, whatever – should expect to be free from the scrutiny of those who give it their loyalty”.

The clarity of those commitments makes the secrecy in the ensuing decades all the more striking. One stark example is the creation of the sovereign grant, the funding settlement introduced in 2011 by David Cameron’s coalition government.

The previous system for funding the royals, a device called the civil list, had been in operation since the 18th century. For all its flaws, it provided parliament with a breakdown of how much money each member of the family was to be paid. And it gave the elected representatives of the British people a regular chance to debate how much taxpayer money should be handed over to the unelected monarch.

Queen Elizabeth in the House of Lords before the state opening of parliament in 2016. Photograph: Chris Jackson/AFP/Getty Images

Under the sovereign grant, public funding for the royals is set as a proportion of the profits of the crown estate. It has proved to be a financial coup for the royals, who had surrendered the crown estate in 1760.

The Windsors no longer have to endure the civil list ritual of parliamentarians debating how much they should receive. The settlement has proved generous (£86m this year) and an expected windfall in crown estate profits has put the king in the enviable position of having to ask for a reduction in future payments.

Yet our attempt to discover precisely what public functions royals have fulfilled in return for all this money is less than straightforward. The palace directed reporters to the Court Circular, the official record of their activities. However, the information is only available in daily editions, with no totals and no way of easily searching what engagements royals have undertaken in recent years.

To work this out, we first had to drive to the village of Datchet in Berkshire, and the home of Tim O’Donovan, an amiable retired insurance broker who has spent the past 44 years compiling his own paper records of these engagements; archives that he generously agreed to share. We commissioned a team of software engineers to build a machine-learning program to read as many of the circulars as have been digitised and ask it to analyse them in an effort to find answers.

If the UK is going have a royal family as its head of state, surely its citizens should have easier access to information about what exactly they do for them?

What Is Kept Secret From The British Public?

The disparity between how we treat regular public figures and those who happen to have royal blood is made plain when they die. Under British law wills are public, partly to prevent fraud or malpractice by executors. However, the wills of the royal family are routinely sealed by judges. The historical event that gave rise to this custom was the cover-up of a royal sex scandal.

Until 1911, Windsor family wills – other than those of a monarch – were public, like any other British family. The judiciary began censoring them at the request of Queen Mary after the death of her brother, Francis of Teck, in order to conceal from the public his decision to bequeath jewels to a woman with whom he was having an affair.

“Queen Mary wanted them back again,” explains Michael Nash, a lecturer in British constitution at the University of East Anglia. “She called in her legal advisers and she said: I want nobody to know about this. So the will was sealed.”

Members of the family have been able to request their wills be hidden, on account of their bloodline, ever since. Official papers reveal senior government officials seriously doubted the legal basis for this process half a century ago, but it has continued unabated.

After the death of Prince Philip in 2021, the president of the family court, Sir Andrew McFarlane, held a secret hearing from which the media were in effect excluded. The judge went further than ruling that just Philip’s will should be sealed, announcing that the wills of all senior royals should henceforth be secret for a minimum of 90 years.

McFarlane did not fully explain how he reached this 90-year figure in the judgment; it exceeds the normal level of secrecy applied to government papers almost five times over. It means that if Catherine, Princess of Wales, survives as long as her grandfather-in-law, her will cannot be unsealed until the year 2171. Once that period has elapsed, her will could be disclosed to the public. But only, following McFarlane’s ruling, with the Windsors’ permission.

If Catherine, Princess of Wales, lives as long as Prince Philip did, her will cannot be unsealed until the latter half of the next century. Photograph: Max Mumby/Indigo/Getty Images

When McFarlane’s judgment was made public, the Guardian hired lawyers to mount a legal challenge – not over the decision to seal the will, but over the media’s exclusion from the hearing, on the grounds it was contrary to the principle of open justice. We lost the case, after the court of appeal ruled that the media did not have the right to be notified about it.

In their ruling, the judges observed that publicity of the court hearing would have compromised the need to preserve the dignity of the queen and her family’s privacy.

McFarlane’s ruling is being cited by the National Archives to justify banning researchers from other public records discussing the royal family’s wealth. Four files sought by the Guardian concerning bequests of obscure members of the family – Helen, Duchess of Albany; Alastair, Duke of Connaught and Strathearn; Princess Victoria, and Princess Arthur of Connaught – are now sealed.

Challenging Questions For The King

Last year, the veteran broadcaster David Dimbleby, who helmed the BBC commentary of the queen’s funeral, broke with custom to advance an opinion that some might categorise as political. Speaking at a literary festival, he complained about Buckingham Palace’s attempts to steer the state broadcaster’s coverage, and complained that the BBC had an “old sore about the monarchy”.

The corporation, he said, “would not go near things like the power that the palace has to change taxation legislation”, or ask whether the Duchy of Cornwall, a business portfolio that controversially generates profits for the Prince of Wales, should pay tax.

“All those issues are never touched by the BBC because I think they feel their viewers will not like it – a visceral feeling,” he said. “It is not discourteous to question, it is not rude, it is important, because the way we are governed is important, and the way our constitution works is important.”

In the coming weeks, the Cost of the crown series will ask challenging questions of the new king. Questions about the personal enrichment of his family, and the extent to which they have profited from their public roles. Questions about the dubious origins of some of their wealth. And questions about whether the public is getting value for money for the record sums it gives over each year to fund the Windsors and their lavish lifestyle.

Buckingham Palace argues that the financial arrangements of royals should “remain private, as they would for any other individual”. But the mist that shrouds such questions comes from the confusion over what can legitimately be called the royals’ private wealth, what belongs to the British people, and what, as so often is the case, ambiguously straddles the two.

These are not easy topics for King Charles to confront. He may prefer that we were not raising them on the eve of his coronation. But we believe the time is right.

• Cost of the Crown Reporting Team: David Pegg, Rob Evans, Maeve McClenaghan, Felicity Lawrence, Henry Dyer, Severin Carrell, Manisha Ganguly, Rupert Neate, Greg Wood, Harry Davies, David Conn, Aamna Mohdin, Lucy Hough, Maya Wolfe-Robinson and Richard Nelsson.

[finemadeline]

Knight!ghost x maid!reader

Warnings: Light gore, heavy smut, 18+

@readgoods wonderful artwork of Ghost in armor with a codpiece changed my brain chemistry

The kingdom should have Ghosts head for this.

Let his head loll to the ground after the blade sliced through flesh and bone, and stab it on a stake to parade around the kingdom — a message to those who think of disobeying the crown. To those who wish to commit high treason among the monarchy.

But greed is hungry. It consumes, and it takes. It makes his senses dull and his eyes linger when you walk by, tracing your features out of the corner of his eye. Makes a deep ravenous ache deep in his gut, that coils around his ribs and tightens around his heart.

It makes him weak, and soft. Forces his hand, and makes him seek you out in the dead of night to the servant quarters to hear you chatter on about your day, or sneak decadent treats from the ballroom to the room you’ve been assigned to see you smile.

The kingdom should strip him of his titles for this.

Take away his power, his roles, his possessions. Leave him bare and banish him to the wastelands, leaving him to fend for himself in the woods. Let the wolves finish him off and turn his bones into peat.

Ghost should be outside the princess's door. Waiting for her to call his name sickeningly sweet — her eyes filled with mirth and her makeup garish. He should be there, at her beck and call, protecting the Princess. Serving the crown, rotten or not.

That is his duty. That is his honor.

But his hands followed his eyes when they wandered. His brain strayed along, lagging behind his heart. He let temptation consume him and leave his duty behind. Let his fingers graze yours in passing — let himself follow you when you slinked into the servant quarters to busy yourself with duties.

He could no longer think of the consequences. Not when his hands pulled you into the nearest closet, pushing up your dress as his mouth clamped onto your neck, your soft whimpers making his ears fill with cotton as the curve of your thighs made his body pulse with need.

“You are a temptress.” He hisses, grabbing your hips and pulling you to grind against his codpiece. Ghosts hips rush to meet yours, pushing against you to catch your cunt against the cold metal. When he reaches to pull the hood of your clit as he grinds the codpiece closer, your thighs shake with need.

He relishes in your moans, nibbling onto your ear as two fingers tap your lips. “Open,” he rasps, pulling his fingers from your thigh to instead rest on your cheek, squeezing them together. When you open your mouth, his tongue hurries to meet yours.

It’s filthy in the way its teeth and tongue, his tongue pushing deeper into your mouth to hear you keen for him, only pulling away when you squirm — your glassy eyes and bated breath almost making his eyes roll into his head.

His lips move to your neck, tonguing at the salty sweat made. He threatens to bite, to crack your bones open and sink into your marrow to make a home there — and you do nothing but tilt your head away to give him more access.

He’d much rather kneel to you. Lower his head to kiss your hand — ignoring the chipped nails and gnarled skin, or the ratty clothes and dirt stains— and watch you night and day, waiting for you to call for him. No longer serving the rotten, but something much sweeter. Much softer.

Your whines of his name break him out of his fervor, hips canting faster as you approach your peak. He should punish you, he thinks. Pull his hips away and watch your release slip from your grasp for bringing him to his knees so easily. For weakening his heart so greatly.

But he relishes in the way your body squirms as you come, hips twitching as you bite your bottom lip to silence your moans. When you lean back onto him, reaching up for a kiss, he then knows he can deny you nothing.

He will give you everything.

He deserves to serve something more sweeter. More softer.

Link to photo reference! : https://www.tumblr.com/readgoods/778351895707287552/knight-ghost

[sturnsdarling]

teenage dirtbags, part one

a small collection of the times skater!matt and overachiever!reader realised they'd never be friends.

vibe check: flashbacks to childhood and high school, general loathing

1.2k words

A/N: i had this idea and couldn't get it out my head...i was trying to think of ways to establish the bad vibes and this was my best option.

introduction, part two , part three, part four

love and cigs, merc

the first day of middle school

It was just gone 8, and you were walking down the beige path towards your new school, books tucked in your arms, hair tucked behind your ears and your cream sweater tucked into your pleated plaid skirt. You looked perfect, as always, and had spent hours making sure of it. This was a new beginning for you, the start of your real academic career (you were a very intense kid) , and you were taking it very seriously, despite being only eleven years old.

Your brogues splashed in the little puddles that had formed on the concrete, the shiny leather being undisturbed by the water as it rolled off its surface. From behind you, the sound of skateboard wheels rolled against the beige floor, broken up by periodical slaps of a van shoe against the ground.

The sound got closer, and you thought nothing of it, along with thinking nothing of the giant puddle that you were absentmindedly walking closer and closer to. A boy with messy brown hair, an ACDC t-shirt on over a white long sleeve and work trousers he definitely took from his dad was fast approaching behind you, headphones in and not a care in the world.

You approached the puddle at the same time, and just as you did, the boy sped through it, splashing dirty brown puddle water all over you, and partially himself.

you screamed in shock, it was everywhere, and you were filthy.

"oh, crap, I'm so sorry" Matt said as he halted his speed, the sound of your scream pulling him from his daze as he jumped off his board and ran back towards you.

"what is wrong with you" you screamed, looking down at your now filthy outfit.

"it was an accident, I didn't me-" Matt began to speak, brows furrowed like a sad puppy.

"get away from me" you spat, shooing him away as he attempted to pat out the brown stains with the sleeve of his top.

Matts face screwed up in annoyance, he placed his board back on the floor, and was gone in a flash.

8th grade History class

"The French and American revolutions were one and the same, they ran parallel to each other and were reflections of the worlds desperation to be free from British rule" Matt said, answering the teachers question.

your brows furrowed in disagreement, "thats not right" everyone in the class turned from Matt, to you.

"and why's that, y/n" Your teacher spoke up.

"because the french revolution started in 1789, ours happened over a decade earlier, so they couldn't have been parallel" You said, your teacher grinning at you "and the french revolution wasn't about the British, it was about peasant revolt, and the abolishment of the French monarchy" your cadence was thick with pride.

Everyone in the class turned to the teacher, waiting for them to confirm who was wrong and who was right.

"very good, y/n" She nodded, continuing with her slides on world revolutions.

Matt was glaring at you over his shoulder, face riddled with irritation, you simply smiled, raising your brows for a split second before looking away. Matt rolled his eyes, and turned his attentions back to the board.

Lunch, Sophomore year of high school

You were sat just behind the resident table of skaters, not your first choice but it was the only table left where you could sit alone and read without having to sit next to anyone.

They were being idiots, as usual, throwing stuff at each other and making awful jokes. One said something about how they wish food fights were still a thing, and another agreed, picking up their mash potato and humming it at Matts head. The whole able erupted into laughter, Matt included.

He took a hand full of his spaghetti, and pulled his arm back in preparation to throw it at his friend. Just as Matt let go of the wet, red noodles, his friend ducked out the way, and Matts handful of food was launched directly at you.

It splatted on your face, covering your clothes and book in red bolognese sauce. The whole cafeteria gasped, laughs erupting from every corner as Matts face was riddled with a shocked smile, trying his best to hold back his laughter.

"Matt!" You screamed, taking your fingers and raking them down your face, pulling the pasta off.

Matt chuckled, holding his hands up in surrender, "sorry, y/l/n, my bad"

You clenched your jaw, slamming your book shut, squishing the spaghetti and got to your feet.

"you are the most insufferable, idiotic, stupid, worthless boy, I have ever known" you borderline screamed, picking up your bags and storming out the cafeteria.

All his friends turned back to face him with looks of 'oh shit' spread across their faces, all holding back laughs.

Matt smiled through the sting of your words, trying to play it cool and act like he didn't want to run after you and apologise. Who cares, he hated you anyway.

In the hall, Freshman year of college

Matt was leant up against the wall, talking to a girl he barely knew about skateboarding, or something else that you really didn't care about. He was obviously flirting with her, and she was relishing in it, peppering his arm with touches and twirling her hair round her delicate fingers.

You and Matt had somehow ended up in the same college, and you despised him for it. He never even had to try, he was effortlessly good at things, being handed your dream life on a silver platter with a smug smile and a nonchalant attitude. From a distance, your distaste for the sight ahead of you would look like jealousy, it obviously wasn't, it was pure hatred, and despite your better judgement, you found yourself walking over to them.

"what're you doin' here, y/l/n" Matt said, annoyed at the sight of you.

You ignored him, placing your arm round the girls shoulder and talking directly to her.

"I wouldn't waste your time, girl, I heard he gave half the volleyball team chlamydia" You said, the lie rolling off your tongue effortlessly as you tried to hold back your smile.

The girl scoffed in disgust, looking Matt up and down as she walked away. Matt tried to defend himself, shouting out that you were lying and that he swore it wasn't true. His efforts failed and he turned to you with a clenched jaw.

You couldn't help but smile, your tongue pressed to your teeth as he glared at you.

"what the fuck is your problem" matt spat

you shrugged, "I was bored"

Matt scoffed, "you were bored, so you told the only girl who's shown interest in me in months that I have chlamydia?"

You giggled, and with another shrug, you walked away.

Matts whole face tensed, and he stuck both his middle fingers up at the back of your head. You turned back, knowing exactly what he was like and returned the favour, flashing your perfectly manicured middle finger at him with a smug smile.

taglist: @sturniozalt@mattslolita@shaquilles-0atmeal@blahbel668@sleepysturniolo@le4hsblog @sarosfilms @joemamaaa42069 @2muchofaslvt @seluky10 @cherib3lla @jetaimevous @witchofthehour @sofieeeeex @ncm9696 @lovesturni0l0s @pepsicola-pussy @ifwdominicfike @dani-sturn @stupendousjellyfishpost @aesthetixhoe @sturn-rose @mattsnronebitch

[kikyoupdates]

Crushed Velvet ⭑˚🥀⭑ 𝑎 𝑑𝑒𝑣𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒

yandere!ocs x f!reader

yandere, reverse harem, yandere reverse harem, original characters x fem!reader, slowburn, isekai

Your parents are thrilled to have secured an engagement for you with the royal family. Your suitor, the crown prince, has agreed to be wed to you. It seems as though your entire future has been assured, so why is it that from this moment onward, your life starts to fall apart at the seams?

previous | story masterlist | next

One way or another, you’d made it through the engagement announcement, but your life still showed no sign of quieting down.

Ever since word had gotten out that you were Xeno’s fiancée, nobles kept paying your family visits, no doubt hoping to amass favor with you as quickly as possible. Of course, you saw right through their fickle appearances, but you were still obligated to meet with them and pretend like you cared. It was simple politics of the court. You’d been a high-ranked noble all your life, but you still weren’t quite used to being the center of attention like this.

That would have been all well and good, but as was true of most nobility, there were always those who insisted on poking their noses where they didn’t belong.

A certain countess visiting you had said this:

“Oh, my dear. You must be thrilled to be engaged to the Crown Prince. The rumors that you were already seeing a man must have been false, then.”

You’d done a good job of keeping your cool, but on top of her blatant rudeness, it was clear that she was accusing you of having an illicit relationship. Rumors were just that—rumors. Nevertheless, you’d never had there be such lies circulating about you. And surprise, surprise, they’d started just as soon as you’d been revealed as the Prince’s future bride.

You remembered Annalisa’s bitter expression back at the palace a few days prior. She had clearly been boiling with envy. You couldn’t exactly blame her. She’d probably been convinced that she would secure this position for herself, and to suddenly have it torn out of her grasp must have come as a shock. You also didn’t want to jump to any baseless accusations, but it seemed like a fairly reasonable guess to assume that she was probably the one who’d started spreading the rumors.

If she really is, then that only makes me respect her even less.

Xeno had described her as “filthy”, but he hadn’t really explained what he hated about her so much. You were sure he must have had his reasons, though. Especially if she was willing to resort to petty propaganda like this.

“My goodness,” your mother sighed, wiping her brow off with a handkerchief. “It’s been terribly busy. I think we’re going to have to hold off on any more visitors for a while. There’s just been far too many of them.”

“I’ve gotten quite sick of them as well,” you muttered.

“Is something the matter, sweetheart?”

“Nothing too serious. Based on what some of the nobles have been saying, it’s sounds like someone’s been spreading some rumors about me seeing another man.”

She went silent for a few moments, then pursed her lips in contemplation. “Well, that’s to be expected. Many families are bound to be jealous. They were probably hoping to marry their own daughter off to the Prince. Don’t let these rumors get the best of you. We know it isn’t the truth, and without any proof of the matter, you’re untouchable.”

“Yes, I agree. I suppose I’m just a little annoyed.”

“Why don’t you pay a visit to the Temple?” she suggested. “Go pray, take your mind off things. It would be good to have a priest bless your engagement.”

“Hm. Maybe I will.”

It had been a while since you’d gone down to the Temple. Besides the monarchy, which was the main governing factor of the kingdom, the Holy Temple and the High Council were also consulted when it came to making large scale decisions. Ultimately, the crown still got the final word, but a great deal of power was entrusted to these other two organizations. All nobles were required by law to be approved by the Temple before being allowed to serve under the King. You couldn’t say that you were a very religious person by nature, but every now and then, it did feel nice to have a quiet, safe space where you could focus on your thoughts.

You were escorted just outside the Temple by a handful of servants, since you were apparently a “big” deal now, but they didn’t try to overstep and follow you inside. As always, you could feel the entire atmosphere shift the second you stepped into the building. Light still filtered in through the stained glass windows, but the Temple was always softly lit, even with the smattering of candles laid out all around. Being inside here always gave you a chill. There was some sort of strange energy that filled the walls, and it brought you an inexplicable sense of peace.

There were hardly any people at this time of day. Most came in to do their prayers first thing in the morning. Regardless, you weren’t playing on staying for long. Just a few minutes sitting in silence and clearing your head would be good enough.

You made your way around the pews, headed to the frontmost-facing row. Just as you were about to sit down, one of the doors by the altar swung open and a man stepped out.

“Oh. Lady [Name]?”

It was one of the priests, Mihael Veron. He was the youngest member of the clergy, and he was beloved by the people for his gentle smile and kind mannerisms. Even as far as practicing religious men went, he was practically a saint. He was distractingly handsome too, which you berated yourself for thinking every time you laid eyes on him. He’d been working as a priest for just about three years now, and needless to say, you’d developed a bit of a crush on him.

“Hello,” you smiled back, cheeks slightly warm. “It’s very nice to see you, Father Mihael. I feel like it’s been quite a while.”

He shook his head, feigning disappointment. “My, isn’t that because you’re constantly skipping out on your weekly sermons?”

“I-I’m sorry,” you mumbled guiltily.

“Ha-ha. I’m only kidding. Religion is a highly personal thing. Everyone has their own unique connection to God. You should only come to Temple whenever you feel comfortable doing so.”

“Yes, but still… I’ll try to be better about it.”

“Don’t trouble yourself, Lady [Name]. I was hoping to see you soon, though, in order to congratulate you on your engagement.” He smiled warmly. “I’m sure you and your family must be very happy with this arrangement. Though I admit, I was a bit taken aback to hear about the announcement so last-minute.”

You fidgeted in place. “It’s, uh… a little difficult to explain. I don’t really understand it either, but it seems like the King and Queen must be really excited for their son to get married.”

“Well, of course they would be, when it’s with someone as lovely as you.”

It was getting harder and harder to ignore the burning sensation on your cheeks. His clear blue eyes were so piercing, yet calm and reassuring at the same time.

Maybe going to Temple more often wouldn’t be the worst idea.

“Lady [Name]?”

“Y-Yes?!” you squeaked, absolutely mortified by the thoughts currently running through your mind.

Mihael just let out a soft chuckle, looking more amused than anything else. “My apologies. You looked deep in thought, so you must not have heard me. I was just saying, if you’d like, you can light a candle and I’ll read a few passages aloud for you. It won’t be a full sermon, just a little something to bless your union and lead the both of you forth in good health.”  

“Oh, that would be perfect, if it isn’t too much trouble.”

“Of course not,” he smiled. “Here, follow me.”

He picked a fresh candle out of a basket and handed it to you, then gestured for you to light it and place it along with the other lit candles. You did so, and once you’d set it where it belonged, you slowly closed your eyes and allowed the sound of Mihael’s gentle voice to fill the room.

It was a peaceful feeling, perhaps even more so because Mihael was the one reading the passages. There was a reason he was so loved. Initially, the other clergymen had thought less of him because he was so young and inexperienced, but with time, they too had come to cherish his presence. He was the Temple’s pride and joy.

After some time, Mihael’s voice eventually came to a stop. He waited for you to open your eyes and smiled again. “How was that?”

“It was lovely,” you beamed. “Thank you. I’m not all too familiar with most of the passages, but even if I couldn’t completely make sense of all the words, it still filled me with warmth. There were some worries on my mind earlier as well, so I feel a lot better now.”

“I’m very happy to hear that. This is a safe place. If you ever feel yourself becoming overwhelmed, you are always to come here.”

“Yes. Thank you so much.”

Mihael leaned forward, his hand coming to rest just atop your head. You flushed, a bit confused, but certainly didn’t complain when he started gently stroking your hair.

“I am overjoyed for you, Lady [Name]. I will pray each day that you and the Prince have a long, happy marriage.”

He was so earnest, so genuine in his enthusiasm on your behalf, that you didn’t quite have the heart to tell him how you truly felt about Xeno. You just stood there, relishing in the warmth of this gentle, selfless man.

His hand eventually dropped, and he almost looked disappointed as it did.

“I should be going now,” you said. “My servants are waiting outside for me, and there’s a lot I still have to attend to now that word’s gotten out about my engagement. You know how nobles can be.”

“Yes, of course. I wish you the best of luck with all your endeavors.”

You thanked him again, and waved back at him up until you’d reached the entrance. You then turned and pushed the door open.

If you’d waited just a second longer before turning away, you would’ve seen his smile drop.

More chapters are available on Quotev!

⊱.⋅follow + post notifications on for story update announcements or join the author's discord!⋅.⊰

💞 main masterlist ♡ character appearances

[oceansarepink]

Stolas: Octaviaaa!

Via: dad what the hell? Is this seriously happening? Why are you here?

Stolas: you knew what you were doing when you liked your mother’s sInstagram post on the beach with her friends!! You KNOW how hard it is for me to make friends because of my enormous brilliant mind and my romantic, generous heart!!

Via: It was a good picture!

Stolas: Every month you get five likes on my sInstagram account, and five on your mothers account, you heard what judge vagina mandated!

Frat boy: Hey man sorry to interrupt, are you stolas Goetia? Wow. Great to meet you, just wanted to say, you got majorly screwed over by those damn fire toads.

Stolas: Yeah?

Frat boy: Yeah dude! Your knight dumping you in public like that for being “used” by you? He must have been brainwashed by commies! You were just fulfilling your needs. Parrot boy was giving you the eye. And word on the street is, that mouthy imp liked being your toy, hes just too mental to admit it. Filthy labourers, can’t see real honest love when it’s right in front of em. Only transactions and meal tickets. It’s not your fault. Not to mention your harpy wife and spoiled brat daughter, they totally deserved to be taught a lesson. Blue blood doesn’t have to mean blue balls right?

Stolas: Erm…

Frat boy: Nowadays society is all “consent this, monarchy that, hierarchy is bad, imps deserve rights” Pfft. Try taking that up with the people who BUILT our society. We should be THANKING the Goetia. It’s not like you asked to be born a man, gay, and whi—uh I mean, and a prince of the Goetia. Real imps like to serve, it’s what they were made for!

Stolas: Finally, someone with sense! Blitzy kept whining about getting “looked down on”, like im this prince who thinks he’s superior. Honestly he was starting to sound like some type of socialist or-or violent abolitionist lunatic. Well, strike me down just for knowing basic biology and the natural order. Would I fuck imps if I was racist? No. I don’t even know where all this talk of me being “racist” comes from, im literally gay!

Octavia: Dad you’re ruining my fucking life!

Dialogue from Bojack horseman: Horny Unicorn

[vvachillessongvv]

2024 Fandom review

💜

When I was in third grade, I wrote a short story about a girl who had been shrunken down to the size of a grape and had to find a way to grow back to her regular size. My teacher wrote a note on that story that said I should be a writer when I grow up- I held onto that even though all my adults told me writing wasn't a good career choice. I guess they never thought about the alternative, which is writing fluff and smut for free on godless AO3 😂 I can't explain how much every single comment means to me, the little community we have here, it is truly such a wonderful space and I feel like I gained so much in 2024 just by being a part of it. Thank you for being here and reading my words. I started reading and writing Young Royals fic in 2024, so it was a truly magical year.

Fics written:

First fic posted in 2024: Popcorn 2024-06-02

Something that popped into my head, and made me think "Yeah, I could probably write a Wilmon fic" 😂 it's sweet and sort of silly and it means a lot just because it's my og baby.

Last fic posted in 2024: stay with me

2024-12-31

Filthy smut with a bit of feelings, because it's Wilmon 😏💜

Fav fic I've written: Siren

This one is just everything to me. I loved being creative with it, I loved collaborating with people, I loved the slight switch in writing style to fit the time period, it is a true ode to my love of writing and Wilmon combined. Bonus, it introduced me to someone who is now a truly important part of my life.

Fic recs will be after the page break 💜💜💜

Fics read:

Who knows how many- my bookmarks are sitting at 150, but I'd say probably closer to 400-500. There's genuinely no telling 😅

First fic I bookmarked/read: I was on ao3 as a guest for a hot minute, so the first Wilmon fic I read was Fuck the Monarchy by @iwouldnevergetintofanfic (a truly beautiful place to start!) but the first fic I bookmarked on my profile is Almost Is Never Enough by This_time_its_just_me on ao3

Last fic I read: I'm assuming this means the last fic I read in 2024, which would be Now we're falling like snow by @skibasyndrome I absolutely adore his fics, and this one was no different.

Some favorites I've read this year:

You are Unbreaking by @unfortunate17

This is absolutely beautiful, the premise is amazing and just so different while still capturing that amazing Wilmon magic.

Doesn't everyone belong in the arms of the sacred by @alltoowille

This one meant so much to me I was messaging the author from my personal Tumblr to tell them how much it meant to me, before I'd even created my sideblog or ao3 account 😅 it's beautiful and genuinely changed the way I look at religion

Is it over now? by @iwouldnevergetintofanfic

This one is so visceral, it still has an impact on how I write wilmon, and I will probably cry every single time I go back to it

i don't feel like our love it brand new @prince-simon

This fic lives in my heart indefinitely. Prince Simon is absolutely everything to me. Not to be dramatic, but this changed my life a little.

always on the tip of my tongue by @royalwilmon

This is basically what I'm trying to emulate any time I write smut. The way their intimacy is written in this smut is pure magic, the original characters have made a home in my heart and mind, and it's just one of my favorite Wilmon fics of all time

do you think you'd like me more if i was less like you by @toffeelemon

This fic meant the world to me on my genderqueer journey, in fact I'm rereading it just for the amazing gender feels.

Align by Ripki on ao3

Some of the most gorgeous writing I've ever come across. Every chapter touches me and blows me away all at once, and makes me want to write my own beautiful words

Hungry by @earlgrey-lateatnight

I have 2 vampire Simon docs and it's all this fics fault 😂 it's so hot, intimate, and written so wonderfully

now we're knee-deep in this mess by aqua_rius on ao3

This one broke me and put me back together. I had to pause reading multiple times because their pain and longing hit me so hard. It's incredible.

Love drunk and we're never sober by @caramelpenguin

This is so lovely and written so beautifully. It made a little home in my heart and I now think about it when I'm writing anything close to friends to lovers.

To hold (in return) @saynomorefic

I'm telling you, I think about this fic unbidden at least once a week. It is so soft and wonder.

and if my heart should somehow stop by @grapehyasynth

Such a unique premise, the longing and love is so palpable, and of course, the writing is just perfectly beautiful

Baby I know how to use a gun by @saynomorefic

Another AU that lives in my head rent free. Completely amazing, I'd read 200,000 words of just them.

futile devices @jordensgolde

The writing is immaculate, the premise is different and so incredibly Wilmon. The beauty of these words truly inspires me.

one hundred and seventeen @prince-simon

Dare I say this one trans'ed my gender? I read this and suddenly had words for how I felt about myself. I still cry every time I read it. Genderfluid Simon has a special place in my heart, and it's just written so beautifully. Love entirely.

Say a prayer for me in the dark by witchjeons on ao3

This made me want to write poetry again, which I did for one of my fics, and I've continued to do so just for myself. It is utterly beautiful, and I sob each time I read it.

I hate accidents except when we go from friends to this by @cloudywilmon

This is my ultimate feel-good/fully dissociate from reality fic. It is hot, and funny, and ridiculous in all the most perfect ways. When I'm having the shittiest day imaginable, there's these boys having sex and pretending it means absolutely nothing.

Outlines of You by @enjoythesilentworld

Genuinely some of the most beautiful smut I've ever read

Knowing what it feels like by strawberryxcreqm on ao3

This is another fic that just lives in my head, and I can't listen to Mazzy Star without thinking about it.

for the tree's sake by @enjoythesilentworld

This is one of my favorite dynamics. I absolutely adore poetic Wille, it is so soft and sweet and captures them so perfectly

Final reflections:

Thank you to everyone who participates in this fandom in any way. Lurkers, commenters, people making art, gifs, sharing those amazing scene/character analysis'. And of course each and every fic writer, you who have inspired me to find writing again. This is such a beautiful little corner of the internet that I can't wait to spend another year in. Thank you 💜💜💜 feel free to come yell at me or just say hi in my inbox or ask box. I'm shy but I promise I'm always up for talking about Wilmon 🥰

[orionsangel86]

Mary & George

So we finally have the show we have been asking for since 2016 (I went back and checked my old posts to make sure and it was indeed 2016 where the "British King Can't Stop Promoting His Boyfriend" post did the rounds).

How did it fair in reality? Well, its hardly Tumblr friendly fanfiction - though it was certainly raunchy - at least at the start. This show was scandalous, sexy, rather filthy at times (in a good way), and absolutely stunning in terms of its production and costume design for sure. It falls very much in line with the expectations of modern period dramas in a post Game of Thrones world where we have shows like The Great, and movies like The Favourite gracing our screens far more regularly than endless fucking retellings of Henry the Eighth which are so fucking common I have even been in one of them myself (sorry - my bitter hatred for stories about Henry VIII and his bloody wives is difficult to restrain).

So FINALLY getting a show set during the reign of James I and VI of England and Scotland and his love affair with the Duke of Buckingham is definitely a breath of fresh air.

But its definitely not the beautiful queer love story tumblr might have hoped for when we all first saw that post.

Nope. If you're looking for a happy tale of queer love overcoming adversity, stick with Red, White, and Royal Blue. Mary & George is not a love story. Its a story of scheming manipulative people who will do anything to get money and power. It's a story that uses sex as a weapon and a tool for personal gain. There is no fluffy romance to be found here, no sweet queer love story and no happy ever after.

I mean, this IS the British monarchy we're talking about, during an extremely dark and horrific period of our history only a short time before the country was plunged into Civil War and a King lost his head. But you've been warned anyway. All you'll find here is brutality, betrayal and eventual death.

Regardless of that, this show was fucking brilliant. The first three episodes in particular are quick witted and hilarious and refuse to shy away from treating queer sex scenes any differently to straight ones. The full frontal male nudity that crops up was also a pleasant surprise - I'm happy that cinema has generally accepted a more balanced approach to nudity nowadays - also a surprise was the lesbian romance which was probably the only genuine romance in the entire show. It leaves you wondering throughout but by the final few episodes its clear that if any love is "true" in this show, its the love between Mary and Sandie.

I absolutely adored Julianne Moore in this as Mary Villiers, who ruthlessly claws her way into power and money through schemes, seductions, betrayals, murders, and anything else you can think of. But even with all of this, I can't help but root for her. Who doesn't want to root for a scheming lesbian and her lover as they manipulate everyone around them and ensure they always get the better of the horrible men that make up King James' court? In this house we support Womens Wrongs.

As far as George goes, Nicholas Galitzine is brilliant as a beautiful but dim mummy's boy in the first few episodes, throwing tantrums and pouting with perfection. He shines in the later episodes as the arrogant and powerful Duke who believes he is practically untouchable due to his hold over the King, whilst still showing through the vulnerability underneath where that relationship remains precarious. The underlying joke of the show is that everyone wants George, and George wants everyone. He's a slutty slutty man.

You know how tumblr has a tendency to split queer stories into one of two camps - either pure sweet romantic love stories or very bad evil messy queer stories? (a gross simplification but you get what I mean) Well Mary and George falls firmly in the second camp. I enjoyed it for what it was, but I was a bit dissapointed that the general approach and belief of the storytellers here is that George used the King for personal gain, that the King was nothing more than a hedonistic fool who let his favourites manipulate him, and that any actual love between them was shallow and fleeting. Its all extremely cynical.

Especially since we know its not true. the surviving letters we have between King James and George paint a much more romantic picture, one where love was definitely a significant factor in their affair. Yes, historians love to play down queer history as best they can, but I don't believe that George Villiers was quite the manipulative little slut this show makes him out to be.

And yeah, sure, we can laugh and dismiss any true history involved. Its just a story after all? It was a bloody good story and one I enjoyed, but was it a fair portrayal of the actual men involved? Probably not - then again, the actual men involved weren't very nice anyway, and the show glossed over a lot of King James' more infamous sins. His obsession with witches and demons leading to the horrifying witch trials throughout the country were completely left out. There was also no mention of the famous King James Bible - the one that heavily emphasised any passages alluding to homosexuality being a sin which is used so frequently even today by religious zealots to persecute gay men. The Sodomy laws during King James' reign were enforced with such brutality that they brought us the slur "f*gg*t" (which I'm not explaining here). Yet the show displays acts of sodomy as such a normal part of court life that you'd almost think it wasn't totally punishable by death.

I shouldn't complain. Especially not about the lack of homophobia. Its a great show. You should watch it. But take it with a pinch of salt. The true story of James and George was probably one with a lot more secrecy involved, a lot more sneaking about in the night (after all, why build a secret passage between their bedrooms if they weren't trying to hide it?) and therefore a lot more hypocrisy on the part of the King.

There are some very touching scenes between King James and George, and I feel the show attempted to portray the relationship between them as complex and multilayered, but I'm not sure it succeeds as well as I would have hoped. But perhaps I am just a silly tumblr romantic who likes her queer love stories to actually include genuine love within them, and I always hoped that any story about King James and George would focus on how that love grew over time. Because whilst George obviously went along with things initially for personal gain, I think the evidence we have at least gives an indication that he did love the King, and the King clearly loved George, and I am interested in a story about how they navigated that love at a period of time where it did need to be kept secret, even if it was a fairly open secret, where things such as the King James Bible and the Witch Trials would have affected them, and where George's rise to power would have caused so much conflict and anger within the court.

But regardless of all that, I still loved the show. Its still worth the watch. The gays deserve more messy sexy dramas where they get to be ruthless and powerful and slutty and murderous. Its excellent viewing for all.

Ultimately though, I may have came for the gay duke and his love affair with the King, but I stayed for the lesbians. The lesbians were awesome.

#JusticeForSandie

[saintmeghanmarkle]

AITA for bankrupting a global conglomerate? by u/Annabelle-Sunshine

AITA for bankrupting a global conglomerate? I am the child of biracial parents. I grew up poor in a very affluent neighborhood. All my life, I fought injustice. I studied international relations at a prestigious university. Then, against all odds (and against all sense), I landed a role on a hit cable show—despite having the acting range of a damp sponge.I thought my life was set. Then I got the chance to destabilize an entire institution. And I did it! Unfortunately, I soon realized my husband was already unstable before he met me. Still, I played my part.We moved back to my hometown, millionaires despite having no discernible talent, charm, or self-awareness. Naturally, I wanted a new challenge. Destabilizing a monarchy? Child’s play. Next up: bankrupting a global media conglomerate—just to make a point.Phase One: The Podcast DebacleThey paid me millions to make a podcast. Everything was going great—until they expected me to actually create content.I said no.They assigned me a team of professionals. I fired them all.They pitched ideas. I rejected every single one.My husband and I came up with proposals so absurd we knew they’d get shut down. His best idea? Interviewing world leaders about their childhood trauma. Imagine Putin weeping over his lost teddy bear. Then he suggested interviewing actual successful people about why they’re evil. Picture us calling Mark Zuckerberg a sociopath to his face—and expecting him to say, "You got me there, Megs!"How my husband suggested this with a straight face, I’ll never know. (Probably all the diazepam, weed, and dog food he consumes.)Phase Two: The Netflix HeistWe hit the jackpot. Netflix gave us millions for a documentary where we got paid to repeat the same old sob story. Meanwhile, my husband convinced a few posh mates to ride horses and called it "polo." (Yes, horses, you filthy-minded cretins.)But my crowning achievement? My greatest scam?I tricked them into airing the most ridiculous DIY/lifestyle show ever created.Phase Three: The Satire That Wasn’tI made a mockery of home improvement and cookery shows—while pretending it was serious. And they let me!First, I made popcorn. Not just any popcorn—revolutionary popcorn. My secret technique? Put it in a bowl. Mind-blowing.Then, I "harvested" honey. From a beehive. (Side note: Just buy it from the store. It’s, like, a dollar. My expensive stuff tastes the same, I just buy it for the aesthetic.) But why stop there? Instead of wearing proper beekeeping gear, I wore half the outfit. Did anyone say anything? No.Did I even use the honey? Also no. I made candles instead. (Reminder: You can buy those in the store, too.)Then came my masterpiece: Cooking.I needed to keep it simple—but not too simple. A sandwich would’ve given the game away. So I picked spaghetti. Not Bolognese. Not Carbonara. Just… spaghetti.I enlisted a friend to help, assigned him the easiest task—cutting tomatoes—and we manufactured drama. He pretended to cut his finger. I then demonstrated how to put on a plaster, as if this grown man, who uses his hands for a living, had never encountered a Band-Aid before. They included it in the final edit.At this point, I started to suspect Netflix wanted me to ruin them.The AftermathEach episode was equally banal. I made Epsom salts by… pouring salt into a bowl. I made a "gift bag" by putting pretzels in a plastic bag and tying a bow on it. A bow. On pretzels.Episode two? Spaghetti. A man faking a tomato injury. A plaster tutorial.The result? One of the worst-rated shows in history. And I pocketed millions.So, dear Reddit, AITA for bankrupting a media empire? post link: https://ift.tt/3EhOZL7 author: Annabelle-Sunshine submitted: March 05, 2025 at 03:33PM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit disclaimer: all views + opinions expressed by the author of this post, as well as any comments and reblogs, are solely the author's own; they do not necessarily reflect the views of the administrator of this Tumblr blog. For entertainment only.

[klarioncall]

I’m gonna say, the idea that the magic meaning that there were fewer ambiguous or disputed successions in a way that preserved birthright monarchy to the modern era, and then they subsequently discontinued the use of magic, definitely could explain how the Queen of Hearts could apparently pull off a Coup during Freshman Orientation. Just, historically fewer assassinations if magic keeps lol noping them (Snow White, Aurora) probably less security.

It’s not that the Divine Right of Kings is Objectively correct, just that it’s Magically Enforced. There’s a person holding the magic wand, and she’s a filthy monarchist.

[creature-wizard]

The stuff going on in the Law of Assumption community kinda takes me back to when I was a teenager and desperate to have actual social skills, and being attracted to ugly-duckling-to-swan stories like Gigi and The Princess Diaries. These narratives basically suggested that there was some easy way to transform myself into someone appealing and desirable; all I'd have to do was learn the Proper Etiquette and Curious Little Rules and bam, it could all be mine.

And like, at the time I was too young to really think about whether what the films depicted was really a good thing. I didn't have the context to understand how Mia's princess makeover was pushing certain Eurocentric beauty standards, or that the whole "yeah you can't really be a princess until you ditch the glasses" thing was kinda ableist. Not to mention, y'know, the whole girlboss feminism of it all, and upholding the idea that monarchy is desirable, and y'know, a lot of things that just don't occur to you when you're a teenage girl. (Nonbinary egg in my case, technically, but ya know.)

And today the LOA community is offering a similar thing, a kind of magic formula that'll supposedly allow all of these struggling teenagers sort out their lives, while pushing harmful beauty standards and advocating lifestyles that seem glamorous on the surface, but are actually just... terrible. Like the k-pop industry and modeling industry are horrifically exploitative, and the idea that the rich and famous are all fantastically happy people because they've manifested their best lives falls apart when you examine how much abuse goes on in Hollywood and how people like Donald Trump are incredibly insecure. Meghan Markle was so stressed out from the press that she and her husband left the UK.

And then of course, the LOA community pushes the idea that you can manifest all of these perfect lives that people on social media supposedly have. But the fact is, those social media doesn't show you reality; it shows you what the other person wants you to see. Those gorgeous pictures you see on Instagram are carefully staged and edited. A middle aged vlogger used filters to pass herself off as a young woman. One YouTube influencer decided to play a silly prank and claim that photos of herself taken in an IKEA store were actually taken in Bali - and to her surprise, her followers ate it up. Another influencer led people to think she was living this amazingly glamorous life when in reality, she was living in a filthy apartment. One influencer faked a hiking picture in her own back yard.

The Law of Assumption thrives among people who don't know a lot about the world yet, and don't realize that beautiful facades often conceal mundane to horrific realities. It thrives among people who don't have enough experience to consider that Neville Goddard, like many influencers of our time, might have just been lying.

I remember being that young and naive, and if I had come across something like this I might have been caught up in it. It's absolutely designed in a way that appeals to certain vulnerable young people, and that's what makes the whole thing so insidious.

If you are questioning or trying to get out of the LOA community and need help, please see this post.

[zeciex]

Centuries from now the royal Targaryens have all their family’s old stuff locked in a museum and Daenera in the afterlife is seeing all her old dresses and jewelry being hung up on the mannequins and history fans dressing up like her in costume parties, she’d be flattered thinking “oh wow I’m really famous and lots of people really like me.”😊

Aemond meanwhile is on one hand mad that the monarchy just gave up the ancestral swords, pottery and maps to the peasants to hang up with their filthy hands and whoever put his wife’s clothes on display for people to look at must be a pervert, but amazed that people think he was a fearsome warrior. Aegon is then rummaging around Daenera’s dresses and wondering if the mannequin is wearing her underwear so he goes to take a peek under them, but Daenera kicks him away from them.

Oh my god, imagine Dragonstone or the Red Keep being made into a museum and all the ghost Targaryens are just hanging around watching their place become a tourist attraction. And Dae's dresses would be so on display, which is flattering--even more so when history girlies and cosplayers come by to take notes or take pics dressed as her. That is an ego boost.

But unfortunately, there would also be ghosts like Aegon who's lurking around, having fun bothering guests however he can, trash talking them and more importantly, bothering Daenera/Aemond by creeping on them. And yes, he would stick his head through the skirt to see whats underneath.

And yes, Aemond would be so pissed about House Targaryen being 'ruined' and I think the Targs should have a support group because he'd not be the only one hating it.

[fromlinkon]

as the tides turn • rafayel [祁煜]

chapter 4 of [?] / ONGOING

pairing: rafayel x pirate!mc

genre/tags: god of the tides rafayel, historical au, pirate au, BIG enemies to lovers energy, slowest of slow burns, action & adventure, jaded raf x jaded mc

synopsis: life at sea was supposed to be liberating. free from the shackles of monarchy and the rules of society. little did you know, a certain siren would find his way onto your ship and convince you otherwise—where two unlikely allies join in a fight to dismantle the crown.

author’s note: cross-posting this from my ao3!

The gates let out an ancient creak as the royal guard lets us into the estate grounds, watching as I teeter behind Rafayel with his stack of luggage he’d ‘brought along’ for his visit. He trots before me gleefully, only catching a glimpse of my eyes over the top of his bags as I glare at him. He was relishing in this ‘trusted advisor’ bit he’d devised so the royal guard wouldn’t grow suspicious of us meeting.

I hope he’d trust me to give him a kick in his—

“Are you planning to take all night?” he calls in a sing-song voice, my blood pressure skyrocketing at the sound. I fiddle for the doorknob beneath the stack of luggage, barreling into the foyer with a groan as the luggage falls into a pile at my feet. Rafayel waves the guard and the carriage off, turning to me as I fought to rearrange the luggage into a neat pile at the doorway.

“I could get used to this.”

“Don’t push your luck,” I scold, patting my waist beneath the cloak. “I’ve kept my cutlass and my dagger with me.”

“I’m terrified,” he replies, deadpan as he flickers flames at his fingertips. I scoff at his flaunting his Lemurian gift, shaking the cloak off of my shoulders and hanging it on the coat rack perched at the end of the foyer. Looking around at the home, I feel entirely out of place. Treasures hang along the walls next to expensive art pieces, illuminated by candlelit chandeliers that hung high from the ceilings. We venture into the main drawing room, inspecting the bookshelves and antiques at the center table.

Rafayel becomes immersed in the novels on the walls, skimming through them and humming to himself as I peruse the first floor of the estate to take note of all of the entry ways and potential escape routes. I wave him off as he climbs the stairs to the second floor, continuing to explore before I realize he’s been silent for quite some time.

“Rafayel, what are you doing?” I ask as I ascend the stairs, searching through the several doorways before finding where he was frozen.

We were in the primary bedroom of the estate, a grand bed perched at the center with ivory and gold linens. Colorful rugs mirrored the artwork on the wall, basked in moonlight through the balcony doors. A wall of candlelit sconces led to the reading corner, that featured—

—an encased Lemurian skeleton.

The intricate bones followed the pattern of a human skeleton until it hit the waistline of the women where the bones contorted into a shape that matched a siren’s tail. The arms were deliberately fixated above her head, the waist and tail swaying in an overly exaggerated manner. She was trapped beneath a wall of glass.

To the crown, she was a prize that was caught. Killed in cold blood, skinned, and her bones kept as a symbol of humankind’s triumph over the filthy Lemurians.

My breath is caught in my throat as I turn to Rafayel, who still remains frozen with his eyes locked on the skeleton. A quiet rage brews in his eyes, the purple and pink hues meshing into a deep, velvet amethyst. His chest heaves as he continues to stare at it, fire brimming at his fingertips once more.

“Rafayel—”

“Do you see what humans are capable of?” he explodes, turning to me in a fiery rage. I gasp, backing into the hallway as I recognize the rage in his voice. I swallow, taking a deep breath and staying calm as I respond in a low voice.

“Rafayel, it’s okay.”

“Does this look okay to you?” he growls, throwing a hand out at the skeleton. “I could have known this woman. And now I’m staring at her bones as if they’re a damned trophy.”

“I—”

“You’re all the same,” he snarls, turning away from me and continuing to stare at the remains of the Lemurian. “Heartless, selfish animals.”

“I am literally standing here trying to help you when I can be on my ship with my own crew right now, Rafayel,” I correct him, storming into the room after him and pulling his arm so that he finally tears his gaze away from the skeleton. “Am I being heartless? Am I being selfish?”

“You might turn out to be,” he responds quietly, the rage in his eyes now replaced with an immense heartbreak.

“I offered you my word in a Lemurian vow,” I reproach him, thinking back to the koi fish that swam between my palms. “If I intended to hurt any of you, I would never have received the blessing of the ocean.”

Talking sense into Rafayel seems to calm him down, bringing him back to baseline as he lets out a heavy sigh. He follows me out and back down to the main drawing room, finding a seat on one of the wide couches as I pull out both of my blades and an iron flint to begin sharpening them. He raises a brow at me wearily, and I shrug.

“Force of habit,” I reply, the sound of metal against iron causing him to flinch. “Tell me about how your visit to the palace was.”

“It was … surprising,” he answers, forcing me to raise an eyebrow and stop sharpening my cutlass. “Princess Aria is kinder than I expected. I thought she’d be a menace like her father.”

Like my father. Like me.

I scoff, gesturing for him to continue.

“The king expects me to stay at the estate for at least until I’m completed with the murals. They’ve ordered all of the supplies and the equipment for me to work while I’m there. I think they don’t mind that I spend time with Princess Aria.”

“How many royal guards did you see stationed during a typical rotation?”

“Huh?”

“What was the closest exit point to where you would be working?”

“I—”

“At what time does the king retire to his chambers?”

“Well, I—”

“So, you did nothing but play house,” I snap, placing my cutlass back into its sheath and reaching for the dagger next. “We know nothing about what threats there are, or how we can enter the palace undetected.”

“I’ve only been in the palace for a single day!” he laments, and I roll my eyes.

“That’s one day less for us to learn more about the palace.”

“Is that not what I have an ‘advisor’ for?” he asks, crossing his arms over his chest defiantly and glaring at me. “I was simply your way into the palace. You planned to handle the dirty work.”

“And I will,” I respond absentmindedly, twisting the dagger to observe the light reflecting off of the metal. I put it away and turn to him, resting my head in my hands with a sigh of my own. “Right now, I need to rest. It’s been a long few days.”

“Luckily, there’s at least six rooms in here,” Rafayel comments, waving a hand around him. “Pick your poison.”

I think for a moment, looking down at my ale-soaked sailor’s clothes covered in brine and muck. I’d never had a proper bath in a home like this, or slept in a bed with such fine linens. Chewing on my bottom lip, I shrug and gesture to him in return.

“You pick first.”

“I choose the room we were just in.”

“Are you mad?”

“It serves as a reminder as to why I’m here, why I’m doing this.”

I nod once, respecting his answer and rising from the couch. “Then I’ll take the one furthest from it.”

* * *

I smell like lavender.

Lavender, lily, and a hint of … what is that?

I sit at the edge of the bed in my own room, pulling nervously at the hem of the nightgown I found in one of the dressers. Rafayel revealed before we’d parted ways for the evening that one of the luggages I’d brought in actually held clothes for me since I wouldn’t be at the ship for some time.

“I told them I’ll be renting a room in the neighboring village so I could use the public library to work on drafting our treaty away from the local royal guard,” I informed Rafayel, clarifying how I’d avoided a barrage of questions from the Lost King’s crew and neighboring captains for the time being.

“Maybe it’s a good thing,” he chided, grimacing at my filthy clothes and tangled hair. “You could try something a little less … scum-covered.”

“My clothes are practical,” I argued, finding no faults in my blouse with its billowing sleeves and leather-bound trousers.

“And unfit for entering the royal palace undetected,” he argued, and I begrudgingly admitted defeat.

I fished through the crate, silently inspecting the navy and silver fabrics. When we’d begun to work out the intricacies of our plan, Rafayel had commissioned a Lemurian seamstress to weave clothes for our role as palace visitors. She worked exceptionally quickly, delivering our attire to the surface in record speed. Admittedly, they were some of the most beautiful pieces I think I’d ever seen.

I held up one of the coats, the hem lined with intricate swirls that resembled the sea foam of waves crashing against the side of a ship. The breast pocket was lined with a cluster of silver stars, spread out in the way the stars shone across the night sky over the ocean. She’d provided me with a wide variety of coats, trousers, and blouses, something I much rather over the layers of a gown I’d never worn.

Setting it back into the crate, I saunter to the room’s balcony and gaze out over the night’s view of King’s Landing from above. From afar, it seemed like such a quaint seaside village. Spots of illuminated oil lanterns and the glow of ships at the docks flickered in the night sky, the otherwise darkness hiding the dirt and grime of the village.

I sigh at the view, leaning against the balcony railing with my chin in my hands. A gentle breeze blows my hair away from my face, caressing my mostly exposed skin as I smile fondly at King’s Landing once more before returning to bed and shutting the doors for the night.

* * *

I follow Rafayel and the royal guard as we enter through the main halls of the palace the next morning, trying not to stare in awe at the art on the walls and the fresh flowers that sprawled out of massive clay vases at every archway. Rafayel is deep in conversation with the royal guard leading us forward, something about the climate in the Isle of Cancia at this time of year.

Twelve rooms from the main entrance to the throne room at the far east end of the palace.

We enter the throne room, and I try not to flinch at the guard’s thunderous announcement of our arrival. Rafayel is entirely unfazed by their niceties, and I can’t help but wonder exactly what his life in Lemuria was like that he seemed to fit into the world of nobility so neatly. The queen looks up from her journal, setting aside her cup of tea as she waves the pair of us in. We bow before her, though I’m sure my curtsy looks awfully awkward from how out of practice I was.

“Good morning, Lord Rafayel,” she chirps, nodding her greetings at me with a warm smile. “I take it your stay at the Selusian Estate has been comfortable?”

“Quite,” Rafayel chirps back gleefully, though my mind flashes back to the way he lashed out at the sight of the Lemurian skeleton on display. “I’d like to introduce my advisor to you.”

I bow once more and introduce myself, sharing that I planned to maintain correspondence between Rafayel and the High Lord of Cancia on his behalf and to coordinate with the palace’s royal guard to ensure that his visit ran smoothly.

But, where is—

“Apologies for His Majesty being unable to greet you this morning,” the queen continues, answering the question brewing in my mind. “He’s been deeply invested in the condition of our trade routes as of late, so he’s likely locked away in his study.”

“Hardworking as ever,” Rafayel chuckles, and I fight to not roll my eyes. We bid our farewells to the queen, taking our leave and venturing to where Rafayel identified as the east wing to begin the princess’ portion of the murals. A group of palace staff deliver his materials, paints, and a ladder, leaving me to explore the palace on my own for the time being.

Entrances to each of the wings through the palace gardens, three floors on each wing …

I jot down my notes silently, wandering around the gardens for some time longer and admiring the plants so as not to arise suspicions before returning to Rafayel. I find him perched atop the ladder when I arrive, and I gasp when I see what he’s done with the ceiling.

I knew he mentioned he was experienced in painting, but not that he was nothing short of a master. A soft blend of ivory and yellow meet to form plumerias that float across the surface of sea foam, made to resemble the ocean not far from the palace. Concentration is etched across Rafayel’s face, biting on his bottom lip as he fiddles with the paints on his palette and the brush in his other hand. He notices me standing at the base of the ladder and waves a hand at the ceiling.

“What are your thoughts?”

“Lovely, My Lord,” I praise through gritted teeth, and I glower as he glows at the title. He insisted we not break character, lest we not notice someone eavesdropping.

“What did you say?” he asks, feigning to lean over with a hand cupped to his ear. “I couldn’t quite catch that.”

Without repeating myself, I kick the base of the ladder and move to stand at the corner of the room to reassess what I’d noticed about the palace so far when a high-pitched voice interjects.

“Ah—! I’m sorry, Lord Rafayel, no one warned me that you were currently working in here!” Princess Aria jumps in surprise as she enters her bedroom, her eyes widening as she stares up at the mural forming on her ceiling. “My, it’s lovely!”

She spins in a small circle as she follows along the mural’s progress, complimenting his brush work and something about his technique. I watch her in silence, observing her up close for the first time. Her hair is beautiful, long and perfectly brushed out and pulled back from her face. Her features are so soft and delicate, and she looks so pure. She wears a beautiful ivory and gold gown, adorned with a pearl bodice and gems to match around her neck and on her wrists.

Suddenly the Lemurian-crafted suit I wore felt lackluster. 

“Oh, hello there!” she calls out to me, and I snap out of my self-loathing for a moment with a sickeningly sweet smile as I bow before her.

“Hello, Your Grace,” I reply, and can’t help but notice the way Rafayel is observing me from the corner of his eye.

“Please, call me Aria,” she replies, her voice sounding like the song of sirens. “It’s lovely to meet you, Miss …?” I give her my name and she repeats it more beautifully than I could ever say it myself.

“Well, I was coming just to retrieve my journals—but, while I have you here … Rafayel, would you like to stay for dinner?”

“I’d never deny a princess,” Rafayel chuckles, saluting her from the top of the ladder as he waves his paintbrush above his head.

“Lovely!” She turns to me once more. “Does Lord Rafayel have any preferences I should alert the kitchen staff about? Dietary restrictions?”

“Smoked herring,” I reply curtly, the smelliest fish that came to mind. I stifle my laugh at the way Rafayel whips his head around to glare at me and nod. “Lots of it.”

“O-oh, okay,” Princess Aria smiles, surprised but accepting my response regardless. She waves at us both before grabbing the journal from atop her dresser and returning into the halls.

“Smoked herring?!”

“Lots of it.”

* * *

We fall into a steady routine as natives to the Isle of Cancia over the next several weeks, Rafayel spending his time working on the various murals across the palace while I continue to observe the royal guard’s rotations and peruse for any secret entrances in and out of the palace. So far, I’d found three—one in the basement library, one through the kitchen, and one below the garden fountains. I was yet to run into the king, though Rafayel often saw him at dinners and outings with the princess.

The two continued to bond, the princess growing fond of Rafayel and confessing her genuine thoughts about her life as a Selusian royal. She shared tales of how she wished she had siblings as a child, of how much pressure was placed on her by the king to be the perfect bride when she matured so that she could find a well-qualified suitor. After all, King Cassius would never bow down to a monarchy belonging to a queen. On days when I wasn’t with Rafayel at the palace, I spent time writing letters and having them delivered to King’s Landing so the crew was updated.

… I didn’t feel safe sharing the truth with the crew while I was at King’s Landing. I’m currently at the Selusian Estate with a Lemurian related to the one that murdered Fox. I’m not being held captive, I’m here of my own volition. Don’t come storming up the hill before the royal guard has your heads—I’m not losing any more of you.

I’ll explain in due time—I just need you to trust me. Just know that by the end of this, our ships will be safe and the village will no longer be in the hands of a tyrant.

Tell me how the crew’s faring.

— Cap’n

What in the high seas hells do ‘ye mean you’re with a Lemurian?! The crew was ready to barge into the estate when I read that to ‘em, I’ll tell you. I’ll hold ‘em down for ‘ye. We’re still working on trading the last of the stock with the merchants before we set sail again for the week. Planning to visit the outskirts of Blackmouth Bay one last time and trading up at their ports to see if we get a pretty penny. Seems like the lot of merchants aren’t doing too grand. Lots more threats from the royal guard. Started visiting the orphanage and the hospital for their dues.

The other cap’ns are doing the same thing, waiting for you to get back. Glad we have an answer for ‘em now (I’m pulling ‘yer leg, we won’t tell ‘em you’re laying with a siren).

We trust you. Come back to us in one piece.

— Buck

We trust you.

That was all I needed to read before I heaved a sigh of relief, setting aside the letter and glancing out the window at the docks sadly. I knew the crew was hard at work trying to keep the Lost King afloat while I was out here doing a fool’s work. I hadn’t even had the time to sit and plan for the next meeting with the other captains. Let alone, explain to them why we needed to stop harming the Lemurians that were luring their men off deck.

I barely notice when Rafayel comes through the door, his white shirt stained with shades of cerulean and emerald. He wipes his forehead with the back of his hand, locking the door behind him and finding me perched by the desk at the center of the study. I share the notes with him, letting him know where my end of our plan was and the threats against the folks at King’s Landing.

“That reminds me,” Rafayel remarks, pointing at Buck’s mention of the orphanage. “I need your help.”

I glance between him and the letter. “With the orphanage?”

“No, no … it’s—well, it’s actually quite embarrassing …”

“There’s actually something you’re incapable of excelling at?” I scoff, turning from the desk and leaning against it with my arms crossed before me. “I’m shocked.”

“It’s important,” Rafayel begs—actually begs. “The palace is hosting a public ball in a few day’s time and Aria—she’s asked me to accompany her.”

Immediately, I know exactly what he’s referencing: the ‘Service’ Ball. Once a year, the palace opens its doors to a cherry-picked group from the slums of society to eat, drink, and be merry at the palace for an evening before returning to their villages. It was an excuse for high society to feel good about themselves, for them to come to the palace themselves and witness the nobodies experiencing what they got to indulge in every single day of their lives.

When I was at the seaside orphanage, Mother Sosia would always ensure I was included in the group that attended the Service Ball to represent the orphans. Whether or not it was because she obsessed over the intricacies of royal life and lived for these frivolous events, I couldn’t say. She would stuff us girls in layers of tulle and chiffon, fastening tight flats over our growing feet and pulling our hair back in too-tight buns. Politicians, financiers, and intellectuals would gush over us as if we were dolls, coming to us at the back of the ballroom and pointing out the poor quality fabric we were forced to wear to impress them.

“The princess is required to perform a dance with her … suitor, to commence the festivities. I’ve not spent enough time on land to learn how human nobles dance, how they move their feet so intricately.”

I furrowed my brows in confusion, never hearing of this tradition before. I’d watch from the corner as nobles spun around the room, mimicking their movements with the other orphans as we played together, but never a ceremonial opening like this. I wondered if it were a way to flaunt the princess’ potential new suitor and the continuation of the royal bloodline. I shuddered at the thought, at the possibility of them discovering Rafayel was truly a Lemurian.

“And what are you asking me, exactly?” I ask, pushing myself off of the desk and about to head upstairs to prepare for bed when he grabs my wrist. I pause, glancing back at him and the way he’s holding onto my hand. His grip is gentle, as though he remembers he’s grabbing the wrist that was slashed by the sea witch not more than a few weeks prior. His eyes meet mine, the ocean hues dancing in the dimly lit drawing room. Before I could interrupt him to pull away, he speaks.

“Dance with me.”

[m-a-salter]

“London Next—the same day, month, year, but one strand over—is the kind of London other Londons dream: sepia tinted, skies strung with dirigibles, the viciousness of empire acknowledged only as a rosy backdrop glow redolent of spice and petalled sugar. Mannered as a novel, filthy only where story requires it, all meat pies and monarchy—this is a place Blue loves, and hates herself for loving.”

This Is How You Lose the Time War, Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone, 2019.

[bread-making-vikings]

The filthy Ruskis are eroding faith in the monarchy by spreading rumours about Kate's BBL

[charlotte-of-wales]

Charles has been banging about slimmed down monarchy but he allows his filthy brother to live in a crown property. Eugenie shouldn’t be living in a crown property either. Only those who serve the crown should be allowed that privilege.

Strip all the people who don’t represent the crown of theirbtitles. Make sure there are consequences for their actions

no fr it makes nooo sense

their leaks say one thing, their actions say a completely different thing

[mysticstarlightduck]

Alone, bound and pain for the OC(s) of your choice?

~ @tabswrites

(The OC Ask Game)

Thank you for the Ask, @tabswrites!

✨Spoilers for Realms of Loss and Enchanted Illusions Below the Cut✨

Alone: (OC - Adaria Vytris, WIP Realms of Loss)

How does your OC deal with loneliness?

This is a perfect question for my OC, Adaria Vytris, from Realms of Loss, whose worst fear is, coincidentally, ending up completely alone.

As such, she does not deal very well with loneliness, and despite being an awkward introvert with the social skills of a little gremlin, she still 100% prefers to be around other people - even if they're just close by and she's the weird one lurking on the edge of the room. When she's completely alone, Adaria usually keeps herself busy in some way, anything to avoid feeling that empty void of loneliness that creeps up in the back of her mind when she's not busy protecting other people or just talking.

Have they ever been completely alone before?

Yes, Adaria has been completely alone before, a few years before the main story, when she ended up separated from all her older siblings because of the ongoing wars of the continent and thought they were all dead. It was really traumatic for her and is by far the worst time of her entire life.

How do they act when there's no one around to see them?

Very nervous. Usually, she has a very aggressive/blunt persona when she's around people, as she takes up a "protector" role in her friendship group and mimics her older brother's jaded challenging behavior towards all authority figures because it's all she's known (and because their kingdom literally lives in a very oppressive absolutist/theocratic monarchy-style government, so it's obvious she resents following rules).

She rarely ever shows the more vulnerable side of her personality to others, because she finds solace in being the shield that keeps them safe. When that role is taken from her for some reason and she's left completely alone, especially if against her will, her anxieties creep up on the back of her mind and she starts to question her worth - because she fears not being able to make it in the world by herself. She's at her most vulnerable when she's alone, much different from her assertive self she takes up in the company of others.

Bound: (OC - Julia Kyllians, WIP Enchanted Illusions)

Has your OC ever been imprisoned or captured? What happened?

At the beginning of the book, it is implied that Julia's just been released from jail, having been wrongfully imprisoned two years before due to lies spread by her young father's corrupt employer as a way to silence her - after she found out the millionaire wanted to illegally prolong her father's contract. This is the inciting incident for her character arc, which leads her to join Thaddeus Lockhill's revolutionary movement in hopes of clearing her name and breaking that contract.

How did they get out?

It is unclear at the start of the book whether she was actually released, bailed out (which is highly unlikely), or if she broke out of prison (whether by herself or with some help).

Did the experience leave any scars?

Mostly emotional ones - which lead to a deep desire for justice and the tiniest bit of wishing for revenge.

Pain: (OC - Teivel, WIP Realms of Loss)

What's the worst pain your OC has ever felt?

Teivel is a young Izuhyn being held prisoner of war in the Fortress of Avillore. Aside from the emotional pain and trauma of being forcibly locked in a filthy, freezing dungeon in an unknown, enemy country, after being ripped from everyone and everything he knew and loved, while having his magic constantly suppressed, he's also spent the past years before the main story of the book (before being freed by Lucian Dhaeras) being experimented on by Avillorian alchemists and interrogated for information about his people. Which, in a medieval-ish world without a great grasp of human rights - especially when it comes to someone dubbed "the enemy" - can only mean horrifyingly painful things. He's been through pretty much every torture that would cause him pain but not kill him.

Do they have a high pain tolerance?

After everything he's been put through, it's safe to say that he kind of has to have developed a high pain tolerance, or he would've gone utterly batshit insane by now.