#beau young prince

[lyrics365]

Say My Name

Funny thing is you always on my mind, Even when Im staying busy and I try to pay no mind To memories hounding me baby Im feeling so wrong, Sipping and drinking these javelins got me so gone Now Im just scrolling and texting all on my phone, Now Im just coming and whipping right up to your home Take a trick back to the scene were we met, In the woods in them trees I will never forget, The photos…

[thefrizz13]

Who’s going to write this wilmon au tho

[nnightskiess]

𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠, 𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭.

𝒐𝒏𝒆, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮...

₊° - 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐨𝐧!𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫

₊° - 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: As the first preparations for the new season start, Elladine is filled with dread at the prospect of having to enter the beau monde and say goodbye to her childhood to welcome in the world of London's high society.

(this story goes slightly off-canon to fit the storyline)

masterlist (soon), read the introduction that started it all

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

𝗽𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆, 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝘂𝗯𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗵, 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗻𝘀𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗲, 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗱𝘂𝗰𝗲 𝗼𝗿 𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝗺𝗮𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗲 𝗼𝗻 𝘄𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗽𝗮𝗱 𝗼𝗿 𝗼𝗻 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺𝘀. 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗰𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿’𝘀 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸 <3

My dearest gentle readers, a new flock of eagerly anticipating young women, yearning to make an impression on the Ton, will soon step foot and enter the world of the beau monde, hopefully tightly clutching the arms of their new husbands in a few weeks time. Reflecting on the last two seasons, this author will wait patiently to see if Dowager Viscountess Violet Bridgerton will succeed once more in finding one of her children a suitable match. The bar certainly is set high, seeing as her first daughter landed the attention of both a Duke and a Prince during her debut season and her firstborn seems as happy as ever. Will she succeed, or will she have to vie for a lord to pay attention to her daughters like Lady Featherington has done for years? And will Miss Featherington ever be freed from the horrible clothing she is put in? I, dear readers, surely cannot wait to see what this season has in store for us. I will watch with a keen eye to see how well our favourite Viscount and his Viscountess have fared over the year. I eagerly await their return to the beau monde now that they have to find Miss Eloise and, how else, following the Bridgerton’s alphabetic name tradition, her twin sister Miss Elladine, a husband. Exciting times, my dearest readers, but we can only sit tight and wait until the first ball of the season, where we will be shown exactly what kind of year this will shape to be. This author will keep her eyes and ears open to all that will happen in our beloved Ton.

LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, APRIL 1816

Violet exhaled sharply through her nose when she read the words on the small pamphlet in her hands. The season hadn’t even started, and yet, Lady Whistledown had managed to speak of her and her family already. She had ploughed her way through the rumours and ill words directed to her, her family and her children once with Daphne’s debut, then again with the debacle Anthony had put himself in, but she already held her breath for the kind of things Eloise and Elladine would manage to get themselves into. Knowing her daughters well, she knew something was bound to happen. For now, she worried more about Eloise than Elladine. Although her precious daughters were both equal head-and-heart girls, they still held the fire each Bridgerton had, and they had been raised by one strong woman, not to forget. They had been less willing to bend and mend to the standards of the beau monde than she had hoped, and although at times it gave her evenings full of headache, she could not help but love the strength in her daughter’s characters. Eloise had made it clear time and time again, even before it had been her time to debut, how much she detested the prospect of what would be asked of her, the prospect of not having a choice in the matter either. She'd started throwing fusses whenever the subject had come up, she'd been blatantly rude to avoid having to talk to any man wanting a chat and she had even gone as far to escape social occasions more than once. Where Eloise’s protest had been loud and clear, Elladine’s true feelings about having to find herself a man had been less outspoken. Each time the subject would be brought up, she would visibly recoil and turn quiet, her eyes filling with a glassy melancholic look, the light in them no longer there. She had worn the dresses, learned the customaries and the dances and even done her best to entertain any man wanting to talk or dance with her, but Violet could see the intent was not there. Violet had then vowed to find a perfect suitor to make the light in her daughter’s eyes return again, to have her shine as bright as she deserved. She knew it was possible, as she’d seen it happen to Daphne and Anthony. There was a person for everyone out there, Elladine would be no exception. She deserved to know how euphoric love could be and Violet was going to help her daughter realise that.

“Has she written about our ridiculous order of names again, mama?” Elladine sighed from behind the easel, eyes not leaving her canvas.

“Of course, it is only tradition,” Eloise teased, knowing exactly how the famed writer usually picked her words. She stopped flitting through her book and sat up to watch her twin sister focus on the canvas before her.

Despite being born mere minutes apart, the two couldn’t look more different from each other. Sure, they both had the thick familiar chestnut Bridgerton hair and the same soft button nose, but they differed in the rest. Where Eloise’s eyes were an earthy green, Elladine’s eyes were as sharp and light blue as those of her mother. No matter if a room was lit by merely a handful of candles or if she stood outside on Grosvenor Square in the harsh sunlight, her eyes would always be a strikingly aquamarine. Her doe eyes had been one of her most adorable features when she had been young, and they made many a head turn ever since she’d turned of age.

“She is getting rather boring and repetitive lately, don’t you think?” Eloise shrugged, not realising the foreboding irony her words would hold in a few weeks.

Violet’s head immediately snapped up, “Do not give the Lord any ideas on how to enliven her ridiculous paper.”

“Fine, I take it back.” Eloise softly muttered under her breath as she looked up to the ceiling in exasperation, where a group of painted angels draped around vines stared down at her. 

Now it was Elladine’s time to snort as she looked at her sister while smoothing out a thick blob of paint on her canvas. It was supposed to be the start of a bush full of red camellia, the flower that represented the painful yearning for love, something she had learned in a book from their library. She often looked for inspiration there, seeing as it was hard for her to venture out into the world as a young aristocratic woman, to experience things herself. 

Their head of servants announced himself as he stepped into the drawing-room, “I have post for Lady Eloise and Lady Elladine,” He announced and carefully placed the two ivory envelopes on the table before taking his leave.

“It’s from Daphne,” Violet announced after seeing their names scribbled onto the paper in her daughter's familiar curly handwriting.

Elladine’s ears perked up at the mention of her oldest sister. Daphne had been their rock after their father had passed and their mother had isolated in her grief for a while. Like a true big sister, she had stepped up wherever she could, consoled the little ones, taken care of them with the help of the maids, let them cuddle up to her in bed and helped distract them together with Colin by playing music and putting on silly performances for the little ones in their drawing room. Daphne had been an everpresent tangible anchor for Elladine, something to ground her and help her practice her resilience in hard times with kind affirmations. The day Daphne had left the Bridgerton house, had been one of the worst days so far, together with her father passing. And, well... maybe also when that dreaded letter had arrived to invite her for her debut. Elladine had looked up to Dapne all her life until her oldest sister had seemed so content being married off to a mere stranger and seeming to love the prospect of being a doting wife— all the things that made Elladine’s skin itch. 

“Ella, dear, do wipe your hands before you come and open it.” Her mother pointed at the green and white smears of paint scattered on her palms. Despite being elegant most times, when she was painting, she no longer seemed to care about making a mess as she let her creativity take over.

Elladine held her hands away from her dress and quickly grabbed a cloth to wipe them off, knowing she would likely lose her head if her mother caught her with paint on one of her newest dresses.

“You know, I think your dress is a bit too maiden-white, a bit of green would liven it up.” Eloise grinned to her sister and plucked the envelope out of her mother's hands.

The two sisters exchanged a knowing grin, especially when they saw their mother’s head shoot up at the suggestion. It had always been a bit like that— Eloise being the instigator and Elladine joining close in pursuit. But where Eloise had chaos rumbling closely beneath her chest, Elladine was usually more collected and aware of situations and repercussions. Elladine would let her thoughts ponder before letting them out, but Eloise had always been good at blurting out the next best thing on her mind. Even that simple knowledge was why Violet had known since childhood that Eloise would be the biggest handful. Then again, where Eloise went, Elladine followed, what Elladine did, Eloise wanted to do, and vice versa. They’d been like this ever since birth, as was only normal for twin sisters, Violet had presumed. She adored it, though. But now, Lady Whistledown had mockingly practically placed them on the highest pedestal for all the Ton to watch and observe this season. Violet started to fan her face even thinking about what was to come and how her daughters would fare with that much attention on them...especially knowing how much they hated it.

Elladine excitedly snatched the letter away, tore the Duke’s seal apart and hastily opened the letter. The twins quickly let their eyes scan across the parchment.

“Ah, it’s one of those.” Eloise spoke with a mouth full of distaste. 

“Whatever are you talking about?” Elladine tried to take a peek at her sister’s letter, confused, as her letter had started off kindly with words about her nephew and the news of a renovation project of their estate.

Eloise rolled her eyes, “At least that means she did not just plainly copy them.”

“She wouldn’t, she knows us too well to realise we would open and read them together.”

“Well, what did she write?” Violet watched the two, a fondness in her eyes, something that would always be present whenever she looked at her twins. To be blessed with one child was one thing, but to be blessed with two at once was something else entirely. And to have nine healthy children in total had simply been the greatest gift on the planet.

“That she wishes us a splendid season and that she hopes we will find our life as married women accommodating and that we will walk off into the sunset with the second best man we can find.”

“She did no such thing-” Violet all but tried to snatch the letter out of Eloise’s hands. At the mention of her older sister’s supposed well-wishes for their debut, Elladine fell quiet once more, like she had done so plenty of times already when the subject had been brought up. She didn’t want to read the rest of her letter anymore, afraid Daphne's sentences would eventually lead to the one thing she tried to forget about.

“I would rather become a spinster than ever make my debut.” Elladine snarked, voicing her disinterest out loud for once as she fumbled the letter back into its envelope and discarded it on the table with little care.

Violet looked at her through squinted eyes, “I don’t like your tone, Elladine.” 

She withheld an eye roll at her mother’s usual reply whenever one of her children went a little out of line. But while she would have giggled or grinned at it on any other occasion, it made her look at the floor and let her shoulders fall. Her mother was right. Daphne had written a kind letter in support of her debut that was fast approaching, probably knowing very well how her little sister was feeling and trying her best to help her lift her spirits, and Elladine hadn't even taken the time to read it through to the end.

“I know it is a prospect you do not feel anything for, but know that all I wish for you is to be loved, adored and cared for. You two deserve to live as happy as I have. I won’t be around forever, and I do not wish you to be alone when I'm gone.” Although her words were soft-spoken and well-meant, her two bad-humoured daughters standing before her could not yet appreciate the intent of her words.

“Oh, we won’t be alone. We’ll have each other.” Eloise linked arms with Elladine, giving her a conspiratorial grin, “First, we will go to University, to hell with those small-minded egotistical men who think it is no place for us. Then we will travel the world and inspire other like-minded women to break free from their shackles. Then we'll make a fortune and settle down somewhere and spend our days writing and making music." Her eyes had a playful glint to them before she turned serious and sighed in vexation, "We do not wish to be married, we will have each other, Mama.”

Elladine pulled her arm away from Eloise, “That’s what you want, why does it always have to be what you want?"

Violet's fingers fell to pinch the bridge of her nose. No matter how well her twins went along, they could bicker like an elderly couple over who would take the last scone. Those quarrels generally barely ever lasted longer than a minute, though.

"I thought we wanted the same thing?!" Eloise huffed, "What do you want?" Eloise softened upon seeing the distant look in her sister's eyes, "Teaching children how to play and read music, that was what you once said, right?"

Elladine fell silent, she realised she hadn't really dared to dream of her future when the only future she thought she could have, would be one she hated. And what kind of self-torture would it be to allow herself to daydream of a life she could never get anyway?

Even if it had been only momentarily, she could feel herself slip away into her worries again. She swallowed, "Um, I suppose so. I want to paint and play music... share that joy with others... upkeep my own garden and live somewhere far away without the rules and obligations of the Ton and..." Her large inhale made her chest double in size and her dress pushed back in protest before she let the breath escape in a sigh, "-to just be me.”

Eloise scrunched up her nose at that, ready to butt in and voice how boring it sounded compared to her ideal life.

“Girls.” Violet’s tone was a message in itself, but Elladine took it to heart and huffed before leaving the salon, ignoring the pleas of her mother to settle the matter and make amends. She headed directly to the greenhouse at the edge of their estate, knowing her mother would never follow her there. It was the one place that had her father written all over it, the one place too painful for her mother to step foot in. Edmund, with his love for nature, had always complained about the lack thereof in the city of London. So, with the help of a flock of gardeners, he'd set up a gigantic greenhouse near the edge of their garden, tucked behind a large chestnut tree. The same one he'd take the children to each Fall to collect chestnuts and help them with their crafts to turn their collected chestnuts into spiders, stick figures or other figurines. The greenhouse was more of a fancy conservatory from the outside, but when it was time to plant a plethora of flower bulbs, it was a combined mess of dirt, tools, pots of fertilisers and waste of the flowers from the previous season. And her father would often be there, right in the centre of it all. It was the place where he would teach them about herbs, tell them about certain medical properties of a few of them, let them rub their tiny fingers over leaves to smell them and where he could pretend he wasn't trying to run away from the pile of papers waiting for him on his desk.

Elladine strode across the garden with haste to make it there in time so that her tears could finally fall. God forbid she let them fall outside in the world where she could no longer feel her father's safe embrace, albeit figuratively.

Even if Eloise was the only one who could ever get remotely close to understanding how she felt, she still would never get it. No one would. The conversation she'd just had only further proved her point. Elladine wasn’t opposed to being loved, adored and cared for, to not be alone but to live with her person by her side, it was just… Well, what was it exactly? Why was there such a big push and pull whenever she thought of love? Why was something inside of her so opposed to the entire idea when she should feel happy and have some healthy nerves, like all the other girls starting their debut? And why, at the same time, could she not stop daydreaming about her perfect someone out there, right now, hopefully thinking about her as well?

She balled her fists when she felt the familiar ache in her heart that no one would ever understand. Hells, she wasn’t even sure if she would ever understand the reason behind the pulling heartache. It wasn't like she could ask her family about it either, no matter how close they were. No, this felt like something she had to battle by herself.

Elladine walked over the the circular space in the right wing of the greenhouse. Ivy had covered most of the glass after Edmund hadn't been there to care for it, and while Violet did hire gardeners to plant new flowers every year, that was about the only thing she let them do. They weren't to take out Edmund's old flowers to plant new ones, or rearrange the pattern of different coloured tulips he'd carefully planted. But she hadn't let the entire greenhouse go forgotten.

In the circular open space, stood a vacated easel next to a bench, something she'd made sure was brought there after the entire family had lost Elladine for almost a whole day. No one had thought to look in the greenhouse now that Edmund was no longer among them. Francesca had found her older sister there after wandering outside for the third time, knowing they shared a love for quietness and having a gut feeling she'd been close to finding her before. With red-rimmed eyes and wet cheeks, a young Elladine had accepted her sister's gentle embrace as Francesca had tucked her into her side and brought her back to the house. Upon hearing Elladine's teary mumbles, Violine's stomach dropped when she realised the child had worried they had forgotten about their father since everyone seemed to steer clear of talking about him and, when they did, they had turned quiet. Even if Elladine had only been young, she'd been observant, and she'd seen what she thought was visible proof of her fear of his remembrance in the abandonment of her father's conservatory. After that, Violet had vowed to keep it as well-kept as she could, and had let Elladine claim it as her safe space.

Edmund's death had taken a toll on the entire family, plaguing each of her children and herself in a different way. Some turned rebellious, others had turned stoic, others had acted as if nothing had happened at all, but Elladine would often disappear. Well, it wasn't so much disappearing now that they knew where she was, especially as they could hear her music echo through the garden, but it was worrying nonetheless. Violet had tried multiple things to lure her out, but it wasn't until she'd seen her daughter try and tend to Edmund's indoor garden with the few rusty tools that still lay around, that she had made the decision. Violet had bought new tools, new fertiliser, new bulbs and seeds from all over and had tried her best to make the space that was once her husband's, as accommodating to her daughter as she could. If she could tend to her daughter's heartbreak that way, then she would do it.

Elladine had loved watching the gardeners get to work and she'd sat around them the entire week they were over, carefully watching their every move with interest. When one of the men had glanced at her over his shoulder, with a soft smile on his face, he'd beckoned her to him and had placed a bulb in her hands. 'Tulips', he'd said, 'from Holland'. It had seemed to be the three magic words she'd needed, because she had gotten onto her knees and pushed it into the soil, not caring that dirt had gotten stuck under her fingernails. It felt a little defying, to get dirty and get on her knees to knee through the dirt, something unflattering for a lady, but it had felt freeing all the same. But most of all, she'd never felt as close to her father as that day. Their home on Grosvenor Square, in the middle of Mayfair and in the heart of London, wasn't surrounded by much nature for Elladine to ease her heart and soul. The greenhouse was her sanctuary, the only place where she could hide and recharge and be completely by herself, aside from the occasional but welcome visit of one of her siblings. It was her escape when her thoughts became a little too overwhelming. Well, she also loved to furiously paint away with no clear vision in mind or play sonata upon sonata on her violin until the strings left painful marks on her fingers, so long that it drove everyone mad, but those weren’t options when all she wanted and needed to do was to flee their home. Sometimes she wished she was a simple girl who didn’t need a chaperone to accompany her whenever she wanted to step so much as even one foot out the door. It was just the life she was born into, and unfortunately for Elladine, that meant she had to make the biggest sacrifice of her life— to give up her life’s true happiness and be wedded off like cattle like any other aristocratic girl, just to appease their so beloved Ton.

Elladine grabbed a pair of garden clippers and went to the bush of lilac that, after all these years, had climbed its way up to the top of the greenhouse. As soon as she cut a few branches off, a welcome smell whirled around her. She hoped that taking care of her flowers would soothe the fast hammering of her heart against her chest. She was so angry, furious even, as she clipped away, but it was nothing the flowers could do anything about. She let the flowers fall into the basket on the side, trying to imagine them and their smell in her room within a few hours, but even that did not seem to make the tension in her body vanish.

Elladine didn’t care about dirtying her dress, and in protest even smeared the dirt and dust down her sides to clean her hands. Her mother would be furious, but so was she. It would be a fair exchange. And maybe, if she didn't have any dresses to wear, she could hide in her room some more. At least Eloise was an expert in openly speaking her mind, even having done so in front of the Queen last season, but Elladine didn’t have that type of forthright bravery. She often went about things a little more discreet. Instead, she showed her disdain on the matter through actions instead of Eloise's blurted words, and more often than not rebelled in ways that made her brothers chuckle and her mother sigh. Though Violet loved how all her children had a mind and character of their own, she also disliked how that meant they only influenced one another in that regard. Elladine was to be a fine example for her younger siblings, as Daphne had been for her- well, to a certain extent- she knew that, but it was so hard when her heart and her life were on the line.

The door behind her creaked open, and a soft breeze made its way into the greenhouse.

“I would have preferred green above brown, but it’s a nice touch anyway.” Eloise pointed at the streaks of earthy dust on her sister's dress and approached, albeit hesitantly. She seemed embarrassed, a little nervous even, wringing her hands like she hoped the apology she'd thought of would land well.

Eloise would never immediately outright apologise, despite being so fiercely outspoken. Still, she knew she had hurt her sister, even if she hadn’t known the true depths of her words. 

When no reply followed from her sister, Eloise shrunk, “I apologise… for putting words in your mouth… again.”

Elladine's fingertips softly brushed against a deep red rose to their left. It was truly impressive how her sister had made the space come to life with newly picked-out flowers and herbs, while still maintaining the feel of their father's touch all around them.

“Ella?”

The girl beside her sighed. There was one thing Eloise and Elladine were good at besides complementing each other— making up after a fight. Even if their fights were never really fights, only mere bickers or a couple of eye rolls after a disagreement- because yes, those did happen often- they could never be mad at each other for more than an hour. 

“I’m not mad at you.”

Eloise let out a visible sigh and her posture relaxed immediately. Elladine didn’t have to speak it out loud, for Eloise knew perfectly well what her sister was truly mad at. 

“I know Daphne means well, but it just upsets me so.”

“She does. And I know it does.” Eloise nodded, knowing their older sister held them in her highest regard and would never write the things she had just to spite them or remind them of their awaiting hell.

“Why is it so hard for people to realise that their dream isn’t ours? Far from it, actually.”

“It’s the patriarchy that's keeping us bound, I am telling you.”

Elladine gave her sister a look. Not unkindly, she muttered, “It’s always the patriarchy in your eyes, El.”

“Because... it just always is!” Eloise spluttered, "They have spoken their beliefs and spread them like an epidemic, and now the world knows no better than the way it is! Look-” She pulled her sister away from the bush so her attention was solely focused on her, “We will just… stick together. Through it all. I promise to not walk out on you even if I would rather watch paint dry than spend one second at one of those balls.” Eloise grinned when she saw her sister’s expression soften. 

“Watching paint dry is sometimes a necessary trajectory of painting," Elladine matched her twin's grin, showing Eloise that whatever had been said before, had been forgotten.

But Eloise needed Elladine to know the severity of her words. She grabbed her hands into her own and squeezed, "I will even agree to burp at least once each night to scare off any onlooker wanting to take us for a dance. I'll.... I'll smother my face in cake to keep them at bay... I'll embarrass myself so badly that they won't even want to approach you simply by association.”

Elladine softly shook her head, a smile tugging at her lips, “No, El, you know it would hurt mama. And taint our name. Again.”

Eloise turned quiet, and then her eyes glossed over, something she rarely found herself doing anymore, “But else it would hurt you.”

The twins looked at one another. So much was said in the exchange of their soft stares and the squeezing of their hands, that words weren't necessary. It was them, together, from the beginning until the end.

Eloise let her mind wander to her future for a split second. Of a married life to some Lord or Sir far away... far away from Elladine. Never spending time together anymore, not having someone around who she could tolerate even during her darkest moods, no longer giggling behind their hands at one of their secret jokes, not having someone there who could read the thought in her eyes before it had even transpired, and no longer feeling part of something that she had been one half of ever since she was born. Feeling herself get too vulnerable and choked up, Eloise suddenly cracked a laugh, “Of course, I also can’t imagine a life without you by my side, and marrying means we would not see each other for long periods of time.”

“Ah, so in the end, it’s an entirely selfish reason?”

“It appears so.” 

They grinned at each other with innocent mischief in their eyes. Elladine wiped the lone tear from her nose that she hadn’t realised had fallen from her eye until it had tickled her. 

“Although you will have to face Mama on your own or she will likely blame me for that hideous stain on your dress.”

“I thought you liked it?”

“Meh.”

Elladine made a face at her as Eloise pulled her out of the greenhouse and gave her an encouraging push towards the house. 

“She’s still in the drawing room.” Eloise spoke from behind her, "But mind you, she's been pacing ever since you left. I'll be at Pen's until I'm certain her mood's subsided." She nodded to herself, seeming content, before quickly taking her leave and disappearing behind the hedge that hid the garden gates.

With her head held high, Elladine entered the drawing room again minutes later. She was never one to admit defeat easily, nor show her true emotions. She couldn’t afford to show what was truly within, not if she wanted to stop her mother from worrying. She already had too many children to worry about. And even if she didn't have to worry about Daphne and Anthony anymore, Elladine knew she still would. It was a mother's curse. To worry even when things are all right. Being a mother was not something temporary, nor was the feeling of responsibility over them or their happiness.

Violet stood with Daphne’s letter behind the canvas when Elladine approached, taking in the swipes and colours she'd painted on there mere moments before. Violet looked up and smiled softly at her daughter when the door opened, and opened her arms,

“Elladine, come, my dear.”

Elladine walked over and let herself get pulled into her mother’s safe embrace, the place that could always comfort her.

Violet knew of her daughter’s variety of talents, as she had been the one behind the pursuit of most of them, but the vision of this current project was lost on her. She tried her best to mask her confusion when she spoke, “Do tell me what your newest painting will be?”

“It will be a field filled with camellias, like the ones back at Aubrey Hall during summer.” Violet’s eyes twinkled and the apples of her cheeks lifted up into a warm smile at the memory of the place where she spent some of her happiest memories with her husband, until it had become the place of his demise. At least she could separate the two sentiments after all this time. Elladine continued, “I found an encyclopaedia in the library and used reference pictures, since I didn't have space for them to plant them here this season, and I haven't studied them enough last summer to go off memory.” Knowing what conversation was to come next, Elladine quickly continued talking, “I shall clean up now. I don’t think I will be able to put much more work in before dinner anyway.” Not knowing what to say next, she peered at the letter in her mother’s hands. Daphne’s letter to her. “She said that Auggie’s speaking his first few words. Daphne thinks he might even be able to say the first part of my name next time he brings him around... since my full name has three syllables and that might be a little too difficult for now.”

Violet smiled kindly, but knew her daughter was stalling. She pulled the both of them on the couch, “It will be lovely, and I'm sure Auggie will learn to say your name within the blink of an eye. Come, sit.” But then she gasped when she saw the ruined dress come into view.

“Elladine Bridgerton-” She started, knowing very well that this was another one of her rebellious outbursts.

“I went to the conservatory. The lilac bush is beautiful.” Was all Elladine said, downplaying her actions with innocence.

Violet held the bridge of her nose. Her children were a handful, but she couldn’t deny that she loved every second of still having them around.

“No matter, we’ll talk of this later, but first I want to talk about something else. It’s been inevitable.”

“Do we have to, mama?” Elladine whined softly and sat back in the couch.

“It is important I tell you this, my love.”

Elladine looked at her, but her eyes held a certain kind of rebellious spirit in them that Violet couldn’t help but grin at— she often recognised her younger self in her daughter. She pushed a fallen lock of hair behind her daughter's ear before lovingly cupping her cheeks, 

“You are my everything, Elladine, all nine of you have my whole heart, which is why it is so deeply important for me to know you will be fine should I no longer be around, to see you happy, to rest assured knowing you are taken care of, that you are adored and loved.”

Elladine opened her mouth to say something, but Violet gave her a look to let her continue,

“Your protests haven’t gone unnoticed, but don’t you ever for a second think that I am willingly putting you through what you see as pure torment.” Violet grazed her daughter’s cheeks with her thumbs before dropping her hands back to her lap. So young, so innocent, yet so full of fire, determination and bravery, despite not having a single clue of the real world out there. Her children were growing up, but she couldn’t help but realise that even if the Ton found them the right age, they weren't ready yet. She too hated how her children couldn’t slowly learn to live their lives and then stumble upon their great love along the way, instead of having to find a match with the pressure of the society weighing them down. But that was just the way it was, how it always had been, and how she had found her dear Edmund as well. Their offspring were visible proof that it was possible. Violet had managed to get Eloise to debut the year before, because, in her daughter’s words, it was best to just get it done and over with. Elladine had refused to hear anything about it then, rejecting Eloise's plea to take the plunge together in such a dramatic way, that she'd fallen bedridden with a horrible flu for a week. But even Elladine now knew it had to happen eventually. And, if Violet waited too long to let Elladine debut, she knew her daughter's chances would grow slimmer each year they'd stall. She was nine-and-ten now, her twentieth fast approaching at the end of April. No, Elladine's debut this year was inevitable. There was no other option, but maybe she could slowly ease her way into the Ton. Maybe her perfect husband would find his way to her in her second season after her debut, or the third, maybe even the fourth. Whichever year it happened, Violet hoped Elladine would soon be more at peace and grow into her role of an aristocratic lady. At least her twins would have each other this year, although that also worried her immensely. 

“I know it’s scary and I know you feel pushed into a corner, but I can assure you that one day, someone will come knocking on your door and you will want to let them in. Someone who knows the strings of your heart and who'll want to listen or create harmony together. But don’t fear, my love, I found your father, Anthony found his lovely Kate and Daphne found her doting Simon. You will find your happy ever after as well with a husband made just for you, I can assure you.”

Elladine was silent for a while, letting her mother’s words hit and giving them a place in her head, “But I don’t want to, mama.”

In that moment, with the slight quiver of her lips, furrowed brows and big blues looking up at her, Violet couldn’t help but see a four-year-old Elladine sit in front of her, hands clawing at her mother to not leave her in her cot for a nap.

She pulled her in her arms and planted a kiss on her daughter’s hair, “Oh, my darling girl.”

The disappearance of the light in Elladine’s eyes as of late hadn’t gone unnoticed, and neither had the mood shifts and her rebellious behaviour, but Violet made herself a promise then and there, that she would do everything to ensure her daughter’s happiness. After all, there was a perfect person out there for everyone.

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

“Miss Elladine?” Her maid entered her bedroom, where Elladine had been playing her violin for three hours straight up until this interruption. The London weather had shifted, as it always did, and the constant unrelenting force of rain pelting against the glass of the greenhouse had made it hard to hear her music over the noise. And so, she'd moved to her bedroom. She was grateful that her family had let her this time around. The weather had cleared after the first hour already and rays of sun had fallen through her curtains, but she'd been so engrossed in her current piece, that she didn't want to cut her focus and go back outside. “Pardon me, but your friend Lady Lillian is here.”

Elladine dropped the violin to her lap. She knew Lillian would never visit on a Wednesday afternoon, for she would always take a stroll with her siblings through Kensington Gardens. This had her mother written all over. 

“There she is.” Lillian’s voice echoed through the Bridgerton hall as Elladine walked down the stairs to her best friend. Although Eloise and Elladine were as thick as thieves, they did not share the same friends. Where Eloise had found a friend in their neighbour Penelope, happily chatting about the latest books they'd read, Elladine had gravitated towards Lillian, whose mother was a close friend of Violet. They were close in age, with Lillian just two years older than herself. Lillian had long undergone the first steps into the Ton and had married during her first season. Now she happily lived with her lord husband in Kensington, together with their two pomeranians and their newborn son. Lillian had flourished from a young, insecure girl into a woman of status. Though she didn’t quite grasp what there wasn’t to love about marrying a loving lord and having his children, she did feel sympathy whenever she saw how deeply Elladine was affected by it all. 

“I feel like we should make use of the few rays of sun and take a nice stroll around Hyde Park, do you not?” She grasped her friend’s hands and gave them an encouraging squeeze, trying to turn Elladine’s frown upside down.

“But what of your family?”

Lillian only waved her off, “They see me all day long, having to miss me for an hour or two should not be the end of the world. Besides, I want to steal you away one last time before all the bachelors of the Ton will.”

Elladine gave her a look which Lillian brushed off by dragging her friend outside, their two maids following suit as they walked onto Grosvenor Square. The sunlight blinded Elladine, and the sudden hustle and bustle of the street rammed into her head like a carriage. Lillian had her arm linked with hers within a second as she led the two west, to Hyde Park, where it would no doubt be swarming now that the sun was out. 

“Did Mama write to you this week?” Elladine wondered, looking up at her friend to gauge her reaction. Lillian only side-eyed her, her face unreadable, before her eyebrows dropped and a guilty expression took over.

“You know I cannot lie to you. Yes, she did.”

Elladine groaned, “About how pathetic I have been lately, I’m sure.”

Lillian laughed, “Well, she used kinder words, but yes. She did mention you might need some fresh air or go for an afternoon tea with a friend. And I think she might have been right.” 

Elladine gasped at her friend’s jest and bumped her hip, almost making Lillian collide with the nearest bystander. They both started grinning as the old man dipped his hat in recognition of the giggling girls. 

“How’s little Oliver?”

“Growing heavy, but very healthy.” 

"I'm sure the two are one and the same."

"You say that now, wait until he grows out a fattening belly and rips through all his clothes."

They came to a stop on Park Lane, letting the carriages pass through before crossing the curb and entering Hyde Park.

Lillian continued, eyes flitting across the many women walking with their young children or pushing their strollers, “It’s all going so fast. It feels like it was ages ago when we were only young girls."

"We still are." Elladine quietly muttered but kept further thoughts to herself when she saw the dreamy look on her friend's face when Lillian eyed a family of six walking by.

"I hope I'll be blessed with a big family one day.” Lillian glanced at her, chuckling, "Maybe not as big as yours, I'm not sure my husband could handle such chaos. As soon as Ollie starts throwing a fuss, he leaves the room and lets the maids tend to him." Lillian chuckled, but she quieted down at her own confession.

Elladine patted her friend’s hand and tugged her closer, not knowing how else to comfort her than with some well-meant words, “You are a wonderful mother, and I’m sure you will be blessed with more healthy heavy children in the future.”

A wickedly broad smile took over Lillian’s face as she pulled Elladine back to come to a stop. Elladine eyed her friend, confused, then watched as Lillian slowly rested her hands on her belly. 

Elladine stopped and gaped at her like a fish, her look mixed with shock, fear and glee.

“No!”

“Yes!”

Perplexed, Elladine put her hands to her mouth. Lillian laughed and let herself be wrapped in her friend's arms.

“But Ollie is merely a few months old!”

“I know! We’re both over the moon we got blessed so soon again! Best to be blessed now than when I'm old enough to have the extra baby weight be stored to my waistline,” She joked, keeping the conversation light, desperately wanting to stray away from the topic of how it was possible, since she'd seen the confusion and fear in Elladine's eyes the second it had appeared.

“Lillian!” Elladine gasped again, head still not fully registering it all, “But how... so quickly again? My siblings and I are all at least a year apart.”

“Oh, sweet girl,” Lillian sighed, knowing Elladine would find out on her own one day, "It is a woman's wonder!" She only said as she hooked her arm around Elladine's again and continued their stroll, their maids still following along behind them, chaperoning them. But Elladine was still stuck on her friend's words. The term of endearment had felt patronising in a way, and it had made her feel too stupid to continue their conversation on the matter and risk making an even bigger fool of herself.

They walked for half an hour in the shade of the many trees, before circling back around and exiting the park near Constitutional Hill— the road that led to where the Queen’s newest palace was being built, and what would lead you to her current one when you followed The Mall— St. Jame’s Palace, the awful place that would kickstart her entire nightmare on the day saved for the debutantes.

Right as the women were about to cross the road, people started to gasp, yell, wave, stop and stare. People started to crowd around them on the curb and the two young women could only stop and stare, watching as a cavalry guided the Queen's familiar golden coach through the streets. The clattering of the hooves on the cobblestones mixed together with the amazement of the folk standing around them.

Royal guards sat atop their stallions, but even if people called out to greet their Queen, it was not Queen Charlotte who Elladine saw in a flitted glance through the reflection of the glass. It was a young girl who sat caged inside the coach, looking at the world outside of it. Just then, Elladine could have sworn that the girl's eyes landed on those of her own, but before she could make that claim, the coach had passed them already. 

Apparently, Lillian had also realised it wasn’t Queen Charlotte that the carriage was transporting. She grabbed her friend's arms and shook her with an unnecessary amount of enthusiasm, “A royal visit at the dawn of a new season? I bet you it’s another Prince or Princess wanting to see the finest ware in London."

Elladine smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. She barely reacted, for it was another blow to her heart to remind her of the one thing she was desperately trying to forget— the season was about to start.

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

The drawing room was filled with an aroma of scalding tea and the cook’s latest pastries to properly welcome their guests. Madame Delacroix hurried through the room with dresses in her hand and held them up to Elladine’s chest. 

“Non, too yellow.” Then she tried the other, “Non, too dark. Hmm, but this one brings out your complexion so perfectly, Mademoiselle Bridgerton.”

“Oh, yes.” Violet immediately agreed and nodded approvingly, loving how her daughter’s chestnut hair matched with the pastel green. Elladine’s eyes flashed to those of Daphne and Eloise, who sat beside her on the couch, one with an unamused glint on her face, the other with eyes full of pride. 

“It’s a wonderful colour, Ella. I love it with your eyes.” Daphne complimented, glad she had travelled to London to witness it all.

Madame Delacroix kept the dress up to the girl's chest, expectantly. Elladine cleared her throat, “Yes, I prefer this one over the yellow one.”

Kate, who sat beside Violet nodded in agreement and took a sip of her tea, grinning slightly as she saw Eloise try to make her twin laugh by mocking Madame Delacroix and the heap of dresses in her short arms.

“And how about this one-” The modiste hurried back to her coffers and pulled out a deep blue dress. “I was not sure if it would be too dark for your fair skin, but blue is the Bridgerton colour, non? Let’s see-” She mumbled and pulled it up to Elladine's figure, which had gone from a scrawny girl to a blossoming-looking woman with curves and shapes in all the right places. Elladine hadn't felt too alienated by the changes in her body, since they had happened too gradually to notice, but now that she looked down at herself and saw the swell of her chest keeping up the fabric of the dress, she wondered how it had ever happened without her noticing.

A few gasps were heard.

“My, Ella, you look like a wonderful lady in that one.”

"I like that one," Hyacinth blurted out through a mouthful of whatever pastry she'd been able to snatch.

“C’est magnifique. Mysterious too, non?”

Elladine’s eyes glanced at herself in the mirror, before they landed on Eloise, who sat slouched on the couch, wishing she were anywhere but here— she would be up next.

“Yes, perfect,” Eloise added absentmindedly after being nudged by Daphne. She sat up straight with a sigh, realising Elladine needed a little more confirmation from her, “Both are great, but the light green one makes you look young, whereas the deep blue one feels more mature. Either way, you look beautiful in both.”

Violin looked greatly surprised at the genuine reply, but quickly turned pleased— it seemed that Eloise's attempt to comfort her sister had worked.

“If I might have a say-” Kate leaned forward and touched the fabric in Madame Delacroix’s hands, “Start with the light green one. A soft shade is easy on the eyes and is a nice symbolic shade to start off the season. Yes, you want to stand out, but doing so on the first nights might not be exactly what you’re looking for. It's a little too forthcoming.” She hinted at the dark colour of the dress, knowing most debutantes stayed with light pastel colours to mirror their innocence, “Wear the deep blue one once you’ve established your place and feel more at ease. Besides, it is quite mysterious, it might make your suitors take the last leap.” She smiled heartedly, with a naughty glint in her eyes. 

Everyone looked to Elladine for the final answer.

“Then I’ll take both on top of the others we liked.”

“Perfect, Lady Bridgerton, I’ll start adjusting them right away. Now, for the casual gowns-” She opened another set of coffers. Elladine loved getting new dresses, but not when she knew she had to wear these to a ball she didn’t want to go to and wear them for a man she never wanted to impress.

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

Dear readers, it seems that our season is off to a magnificent start with the arrival of Spanish Crown Prince Felipe and his equally beloved twin sister Princess Graciela. Though our monarchy has never been too tight with the Spanish monarchy, it seems that Queen Charlotte deemed this as good a time as any to renounce the estrangement. It can only be assumed that His Grace is looking for a possible suitor for his future throne, seeing that he has reached the acquired age for a betrothal and his otherwise rather unusual timing to visit the Ton. Now we can only wonder who will turn his head. But before we lose ourselves to the speculation of the matter, all eyes will first be focused on this year's debutantes. Who will be the Ton’s newest Diamond? And will the Prince agree with the Queen’s decision? 

LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, APRIL 1816  

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

𝗽𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆, 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝘂𝗯𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗵, 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗻𝘀𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗲, 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗱𝘂𝗰𝗲 𝗼𝗿 𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝗺𝗮𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗲 𝗼𝗻 𝘄𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗽𝗮𝗱 𝗼𝗿 𝗼𝗻 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺𝘀. 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗰𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿’𝘀 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸 <3

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆* tagged: @alohastitch0626 @crimeshowjunkie @thatgirljas13 @hauntedfictionland

[napoleonic-sexyman-tournament]

Arthur Wellesley:

"So, I saw that you had no propaganda for the Iron Duke himself and thought that should be corrected, because I cannot let this man go unloved.

He is the ultimate sexyman. I don't really get that title or the requirements but I do know this man and he is the ultimate in Regency-era sexiness.

Field Marshal Sir Arthur Wellesley, First Duke of Wellington, whose full list of titles merits its own Wikipedia page, he had so many (including Prince of Waterloo of the Kingdom of the Netherlands), was so well known for his debonairness that he was often called "the Beau" or Beau Wellesley.

Our dear Duke with his eyes of "a brilliant light blue," is quite the underdog made good. The fourth son of an Anglo-Irish aristocratic family, he was a bit of a loner as a child, whose star was eclipsed by the academic success of his older and younger brothers. Yet he had a remarkable talent for the violin, which as we know from Mrs. Jefferson is quite a good quality for a man to have. As a young man he was considered extremely good humored and drew "much attention" from female society. The Napiers of Celbridge thought he was a "saucy stripling" and he was also considered quite mischievous. Yet he also had a rich inner life, reading and contemplating the great philosophers of the day.

Yes, we know about his military victories in the Peninsula (the position of Field Marshal of the British Army and the accompanying baton were created for him) and his success at Waterloo, but he was also both romantic and a ladies' man. (I could go on about the military success but that's not really what this is about, is it?)

Want the romantic side? He fell in love with Kitty Pakenham while a lowly aide-de-camp in Dublin but, with no real position or prospects, was laughed away by her brother when he sought to marry her. In a fit of pique he destroyed his violin and turned firmly toward progressing his career. Over a decade later, after he had made something of himself in India, he learned she hadn't married, supposedly because she was still pining for him. Reader, he married her, despite thinking she'd grown ugly, and got two children from her in less than two years. I'm not kidding, this man was virile. They married in April of 1806, their first son was born in February, 1807, and their second son was born in January 1808. Although he wasn't sexual faithful to her, Wellington wore an amulet she gave him for over twenty years, and was still wearing it when he sat with her on her deathbed. When she was surprised he still wore it, he told her if she'd just bothered to check in the last twenty years, she'd have found it. Despite surviving her by twenty years, the Duke never remarried.

Now, please don't think badly of him for the lack of sexual fidelity. It was the Georgian era. Sexual fidelity was not a part of marriage in high society. Men didn't sleep only with their wives and some wives could be quite happy with that (for one, it's much easier not to have one pregnancy after another when your husband is sleeping with someone else). Not that women weren't also sleeping around. Which brings me to one of Wellington's more… interesting conquests: Lady Caroline Lamb, wife of William Lamb (the future Second Viscount Melbourne and Prime Minister). Why do I know that name, you ask? The OG pixie manic dream girl, Caro's much more notably known for her affair with Lord Byron. After that particular bit of nonsense, she was in Brussels with the rest of the English aristocracy during the 100 Days/post Waterloo. She and the Duke supposedly slept together and she took his cloak away as a souvenir.

Who else did the Duke liaise with? Well, there were the usual flings with actresses and singers, such as La Grassini. As previously noted in another post on this tumblr, he was noted as a stronger, better lover than Napoleon by another of their mutual lovers. Wellington also was a client of Harriette Wilson. He visited her when she was in Paris after the Duke of Beaufort bought her off, though this was before Beaufort stopped paying her, prompting her to publish her memoirs. She canvassed her old lovers, including Wellington, to see if they'd pay her not to be in them. Wellington send her a note in return saying "Publish and be Damned." Something about his succinct dismissal of her is just so hot.

Oh, want a bit more of Wellington being a bad boy? In 1829, while Prime Minister, he got into a duel that still is commemorated almost two hundred years later. King's College, London, was set up while Wellington was also advocating for Catholic Emancipation and this led to Lord Winchilsea publicly insulting Wellington's honor to the point that the Duke (who'd never dueled before or supported dueling generally) called him out. They went to Battersea Fields and settled the matter with pistols. Wellington won and Winchelsea apologized. King's College celebrates "Duel Day" every March.

Even better, want to read about Elizabeth Bennet and the Duke being witty and falling in love? Complete with scenes of the Duke showing he knows what to do with his cannon? Then let me recommend the third variation of An Ever Fixed Mark, A Dalliance with the Duke. I dare you not to vote for him for all eternity with that portrayal in your head."

Emma, Lady Hamilton:

a. “Her boyfriend got bored with her and passed her onto his uncle. Reader, she married him, and started having threesomes with Lord Nelson. She basically bullied her way into social acceptance despite being a former courtesan. Also, she was hot as hell.”

[snoopledrooplecheesedoodle]

i have some ideas for mer twst ..

ROOK HUNTSMAN, MALLEUS DRACONIA, THE TWEALS…? : A mermaid captures a human, wanting to experiment on their unique physiology.

KALIM AL-ASIM, IDIA SHROUD, ACE TRAPPOLA, DEUCE SPADE. : A mermaid and a human finding a common ground in their shared passions or interests / The mermaid and the human are both outcasts in their respective societies, but they find solace and comfort in eachother's presence.

KALIM AL-ASIM, MALLEUS DRACONIA, AZUL ASHENGROTTO, VIL SCHOENHEIT, RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS : A human explorer stumbles upon an underwater kingdom inhabited by mermaids and falls in love with a mermaid prince.

EPEL FELMIER, RUGGIE BUCCHI, NEIGE LEBLANCHE (hear me out..), SILVER : A human finds a wounded mermaid washed ashore and takes care of him.

TREY CLOVER, ORTHO SHROUD (platonic !), JAMIL VIPER ..? : A mermaid rescues a drowning human from a shipwreck.

VIL SCHOENHEIT, CATER DIAMOND, AZUL ASHENGROTTO ..? : A siren lures humans into the water with his captivating voice, and a romantic relationship blossoms between an unsuspecting human and a beautiful mermaid.

LILIA VANROUGE. : Two young lovers become separated in a stormy ocean, and the mermaid decides to search for his lost human beau.

THE TWEALS, LEONA KINGSCHOLAR, VIL SCHOENHEIT. : a human was sacrificed to the mermaid.

that’s all i can think of :p have fun!

Legitimately... MARRY ME! WTF you are a genius! I know you're anonymous but this

THISSSSS

Made my entire day I think I'll write quite a few of these so stay tuned in

Me @ you

[undertale-fic-librarby]

Hi, are you okay I hope so, could you recommend me some Error × ink fics?

Howdy, thanks for asking! Here are some fics that might fit what you're looking for!

From Your Point of View by 0Sion0, TGK Translations (Teen And Up, Incomplete)

They say that to understand another person you should imagine yourself in their place. But what are you to do when you're pretty much forced into the body of your sworn enemy?

The Two Cockroaches by Mutatedbunnies (Mature, Incomplete)

In the aftermath of a messy breakup, Ink moves into the city to begin his life anew. After a fateful encounter with his neighbor, he falls head over heels for someone new. Error, a graduate student who’s hesitant when it comes to romance, is immediately swept up in Ink’s brilliance and vitality, unable to stop himself. While Ink and Error are consumed with one another, their friends and family fall into romantic affairs of their own. Cross, Error’s best friend, falls in love at first sight with Ink’s ex-boyfriend, who isn’t sure he’s ready for a new beau just yet. Geno, a promising young doctor, has an unfortunate tendency to be stalked by one of the hospital’s top forensic pathologists, Reaper.

I want your soul | Errorink / Errink by Yumikokun (General Audiences, Incomplete)

~ This story is inspired by another one...so if you stumble upon a story similar to this one, you know where I got the inspiration :) ~ . . . A story about a young prince who lives in a castle with his three older brothers. The oldest brother catches a mysterious flu that can not be healed with simple treatment. And thus, the kingdom is ruled by the second heir. The young prince, desperate to find salvation in healing his brother, travels in search of a wizard who might help him. Though, he stumbles upon more than he anticipated. ~~~~~~~~~~~~ Published: 2nd of June 2022 Ended: ?

Curiosity Killed the ErROr by ShandyCandy278 (Teen And Up, Complete)

After realizing that he knows next to nothing about how Ink came to be and that the guardian knows nothing as well, Error decides to start looking into it. The Creators are egging him on, and shenanigans from the other outcodes are proving to be quite the distraction; Ink just wants to be his friend (not happening), Dream is acting weird, and Nightmare can't believe his eye. The chances of Error learning everything are slim-to-none, but since when did that stop him?

Tangled Memories by honey_bubbletea33 (Teen And Up, Incomplete)

Ink is forgetful, sure, but he remembers basic, necessary things, most of the time. So when Error finds him clueless, unable to remember how he got there or any of the people he interacted with, it's nothing short of a good opportunity. Ink knows where the Omega Timeline is, so Error can just go there and destroy it, right...? Turns out, Ink's memory is still limited at best, which leads him and Error on a hunt for more clues about Ink's previous life in the Omega Timeline, revealing a side of Ink Error never knew about. ...All he needs is for Ink to never remember who they were to each other.

[precious-little-scoundrel]

Regency Elvis

No I haven’t got a title for the series yet send help

…to seem like cherries in the spring…

Unedited, written today in between work because I have a brain worm with this idea and y’all have been requesting more Honeymoon vibes and while this has no learjets or even smut in this installment, I think I’ll be able to provide that shortly as i build a lead up. So heads up, this story will become quite mature. And dubious. So if that’s not your jam, be aware. For now have 3k of Pg 13 virginal musings on an arranged marriage to a roguish man. 😏

I picture 1973-ish, post divorce Elvis for this era, it’s part of the morose, vampiric kick he was on, he was serving such kitsch and seemed like he was pissed and maybe a tad bitter and I’d really like him to take that out on me so…here we are. Also, I’ll be joyfully ripping off Jane Austen’s writings and Beau Brummell’s life for this, as well as smushing Pre-Raphaelite artists too near to the Napoleonic wars. Also,  I won’t apologize for overusing the word “oneself” to describe…oneself. But this is mainly about being ridden hard by grumpy, divorced and needing an heir Elvis so, let’s not fret over historic details. Lord knows the man may end up having unseen depths, kindly ones, one hopes

It didn’t take one as experienced as yourself and your maid longer than five minutes to don one’s evening gown in private and add the last touches to the arrangement of one’s hair.

You had been gone from your bridal party more than twenty.

Yet no one noticed.

Too busy in the adjoining sitting room discussing your business behind the closed door, such as marriage was a woman’s business, or perhaps your mother knew you needed such peace before stepping out and spending the evening making happy over your engagement.

A Husband.

You were bound to be given to one at some point but that didn’t help one resign oneself to it as much as one might hope. Yet it wasn’t a shock, not if you were being honest and it helped perhaps that he was your father’s acquaintance and that anyone so young and penniless and handsome as to have caught your girlish yearnings beforehand had, in a polite fit of heroism, gone off to France and got themselves summarily pulverized by Napoleon's artillery. Finest cannons in the world, it was said, killed half a generation of young Englishmen in the flower of their youth.

So now, adorned with spring blossoms about your virgin head and stood in your childhood room for close the last time, you hoped those bright young men were pleased with themselves for leaving you in such a lurch.

There were worse fates than marriage to a very wealthy, very reticent, very bewhiskered stranger. Cannon balls to the gut, for instance, or a hussar’s saber to the neck. That’s what you told yourself hourly in these days of lonely, neglected engagement. But according to your mother’s friends, commonly chittering over your head as they readied you for the day and even now in the adjoining room, heedless of your prolonged absence, you were facing a martyrdom of sorts.

“-such rank and such commendations, they are the product of wartime and now that peace is in sight, really Hortencia, what will there be of their social standing? Your poor girl. This match is a disgrace waiting to happen.”

“The Prince is bound to tire of Mr. Presley’s fashions and his sports, then where will the new couple be? Where will you stand? How can you bear it, Hortencia?”

“His commonness aside, it’s in poor taste of him to marry the daughter of one’s investor. It speaks of…of leverage.” This later part was hissed as if it were a terrible scandal.

That was very much the point of your marriage, you had surmised -leverage. But with the slowly tanking fortunes of your own noble family, just about anyone who condescended to marry you would be in a position to be a savior, one might as well have a wealthy and impressive savior, if one was going to be saved, than have a squalid and portly savior, no matter how very royal and inbred his noble blood. Not that the ladies saw it that way.

Common, quite common your groom was, and yet far too wealthy to be ignored. Companion to the Prince Regent, Arbiter of Dandified Refinement and a coal mining tycoon from the country. Filthy rich, passably handsome from your brief observations and rich. Did we already mention that? That he was Rich?

You were going to enjoy a wealthy husband, you were determined, and you were going to aid your poor, cheated parents as best you could in your new wifley position. Which was more than what those chattering crone’s outside could boast in terms of their own daughter’s loyalties or affections.

You dismissed your maid and twirled before the mirror, allowing yourself one last moment of peace and preening -eavesdropping, too- before joining them. You looked very fresh. That much was commendable, you hoped you didn’t look too young or if you did, you had hopes he wouldn’t mind. Not that first impressions mattered much, the engagement settled and the contracts drawn up, but you did so wish to not be spurned. You had only met him once, and you’d been a child then, tiny gloved hand shaking his when you should have been curtseying, he was younger then, too, and happy and gay enough to laugh it off.

That was before her.

You hadn’t met him since, though at times he was at the far upper end of your fathers table or across the room at court or else straddling the enclosures at ascot. But he had been younger then, merrier, less…hairy, less maudlin and less tanned than he was now.

But all of this erstwhile gallant merriment had been witnessed by you from a distance, and you had not seen much of him at all during his brief marriage, his wife’s preferment of town and its vanities grew with his one disillusionment of them. They had taken to the country in what one supposes was an attempt at refocusing. Harmonizing, a chin up try at domesticity and fidelity.

What occurred instead had the whole nation reeling in scandalized shock.

“There are far more unsuitable candidates in the upper echelons of society,” your mothers voice floated in, soft yet strained in her effort to

maintain civility with her supposed friends, “she could do far worse. A girl can grow used to the mature habits of an older man, she does not grow used to cruel caprices of vain peacocks.”

”Hortencia, it is natural to console oneself in the face of tragedy, but dear friend, you are handing your child to a wolf.”

You wanted to snicker at the thought that mother’s friends had waited until days before your wedding to showcase their tender, loving concern. You would be glad to move to the country with your new husband, to leave behind such stupid circles, loneliness on the open moors of Northumbria was welcome compared to the shiny cesspools of London and Bath.

“And his wife not yet dead!” Mrs. Turvydrop would be the one to object to that aspect.

In your occasional fits of honesty regarding the entire situation, you had to admit that the living existence of his divorced young wife, somewhere thriving in the continental Riviera, gave you a mild panic. The church was not at all fond of such breaking of covenants, but the woman had been in the wrong, there was a lover, there was a midnight abandonment of her husband‘s house, and there were the acquittals for manslaughter given to your groom.

Indeed, were it not for this public shame hanging over his otherwise irreproachably fabulous career as a national success at everything he set his hand to, you doubted that Mr. Presley would even consider marrying someone with so little to offer as yourself. Life is full of things we wish were different, and you wished your fiancé did not have a living first wife. So did Mrs. Turvydrop, it seemed, although you doubted the deadness of the previous Lady Presley would have done much good to the reputation of a man so ruggedly unconcerned with convention.

“His wife was adulterous. The Bible and the church give room for such annulments.” Your mother was at the ready, though her voice was weary. “This marriage will be Sanctioned before God, it is all quite proper, I assure you.”

“Indeed, but is he? A prince's companion is no recommendation for a husband.”

“Truly!” Another voice rose up to agree, “it leaves open all sorts of speculation as to what kind of man would drive his young wife to such extremes! She was every bit as sweet and delicate as your child. To have been driven to madness from such a genteel beginning suggests much blame on his part.”

“He is common. What did they expect?”

“Common? He is uncouth, why his taste for food and confectionery is so bizarre as to be nearly repulsive, forget that it is served on gold plates.”

“You could even say, without much speculation, that it serves to reason his marital tastes are similarly appalling.”

“Rough appetites those mining men.” Lydia Carmichael’s voice agreed and you laid your hand on the knob, knowing your procrastination was inexcusable but far too invested in the subject being discussed to think of interrupting. “What if he -what if he’s brutish?”

“Yes!” Countess Jessop warmed to the theory and a Cacophony of scandalized voices rose like girls adding to a ghost story in the upstairs attic of a finishing school. “What if he was so…so brutish…that his poor lady wife had to flee from him?”

“Horse flesh and steam engines.” Mrs. Turvydrop sagely expounded, “It’s the only thing I’ve heard tell that interests him.”

“And a good waistcoat.” Countess Jessop tittered.

“Mark my words Hortencia, he has foul designs for your child.” Lydia Carmichael sighed, “He’ll break that girl like a licorice stick.”

“By your own admission he’ll likely be too busy with horses and steam engines to bother with her.” your mother returned wryly and filled yourself with smug comradery for her wit, you opened the door and presented yourself to the doubters.

The picture of you was hardly settling.

Virginal and swathed in blushing pink silks, your copious flowers were perhaps overdone but you looked a May Queen, airy and bright, like one touch of a masculine finger on your porcelain self would wilt you like a peony, breathed upon too hard.

Your eager face questioned your mother, a silent, unspoken query: “do you think he’ll like it? Will he like me?”

Her eyes filled with tears, seeing in you her promising young babe and a bound bride all at once. She saw you briefly as a man might, and she trembled at the sudden vision she had of Elvis Aaron Presley, Esquire and Dandy sinking his teeth into you like a delectable pastry.

“You are a vision of loveliness, dear.” she expressed with a choked voice, eyes watery and hands trembling as she grasped your own. The confusion shown on your face at her grief hurt her deeply, she knew you were not naive but you were a hopeless optimist, and as such you could beam and blush at so grave a prospect as marrying a wounded man. Like stags, spurned husbands tended to be crueler in their second rut. “Come, let us go down and join the men.” she urged with a brave smile and you followed her, gloved hand pressed in hers.

[garnetcicada]

I was killed by this

"Le jeune prince exceptionnellement beau, passionné par l'étude, si prompt au maniement des armes et cavalier reconnu de ses pairs, découvre très tôt l'horreur tapie dans son corps"

"The exceptionally handsome young prince, passionate about study, so adept at handling weapons and a rider recognized by his peers, discovers very early the horror lurking in his body."

I love how everyone calls him handsome

[enjoythesilentworld]

Wille's Month - Social Media

silly silly for day 12 @youngroyals-events <3 <3

Wilhelm finally gets to run his own social media with no insight from the Royal Court.

read below or on ao3! (G, 350 words)

Royal Reject to #1 Fan: Check out Ex-Prince Wilhelm’s New BOY-Obsessed Insta!

Everyone knows the story of Sweden's former Crown Prince. From his shocking speech in 2021 where he admits his involvement in a scandalous video, to his eventual stepping down from the throne only a year later, we couldn’t get enough of the royal drama. That is, until Wilhelm disappeared from the spotlight and was only occasionally seen out and about with his beau, small-town honey and leaked video co-star Simon Eriksson. 

Check out our full profile on Wilhelm’s boyfriend.

However, the Prince-turned-Pauper has made his sly return to social media. Some of our best sleuths have uncovered a secret Instagram account that can only belong to the prince himself! While Wilhelm himself rarely appears in any of the posts, it seems our favorite ex-royal has chosen photography as a new hobby, and he’s only got one subject: Simon. 

That’s right, Wilhelm has put down the crown and picked up a camera, racking up an astounding 134 posts in just a few months. And we’re not mad about it. Though, we’re not sure if it’s so much that the former prince is a talented photographer as it is that he’s got such a beautiful muse! 

In fact, Simon himself has accumulated his own little following on Instagram ever since he released his debut single ‘Min amor’ last year. The passionate lyrics hint that Simon may be just as obsessed with Wilhelm as the young ex-royal is with our new favorite artist. 

Listen to 'Min amor' here.

Neither were willing to comment on the state of Wilhelm’s new fan-account, but sources close to the charming couple state they’re “happy, in love, and enjoying their life together” – HOW CUTE!

That love even shines through in the captions on Wilhelm’s posts. Our personal favorites are: “There is a symphony of love in the sound of your heartbeat” and “Your hand, in mine, min renaste tröst.” Do we see a future in poetry for this ex-prince, too?

 

Needless to say, we’re obsessed. Maybe this is a sign to drop the royal titles and start referring to Wilhelm only as ‘Simon’s Biggest Fan’.

Let us know what you think in the comments!

Can’t get enough? Take our new quiz: Which Simon-Post Are You?

[thecrownnetflixuk]

Fond Farewells Mark the End of an Era for The Crown.

Pt 2 of Season 6 Accedes to the Next Generation – But Reigns Most Triumphant Saluting Its Sovereign.

Review & gifs by L.L @The Crown TV

I wasn't sure what to expect from the final 6 preview episodes of The Crown. Part 1 gifted us with a season-defining performance from Elizabeth Debicki, but such intense focus on the tragedy of Diana and Dodi's deaths was heavy-going. How to move forward?

Not many TV shows stick the landing, but I believe The Crown does, mostly by putting Queen Elizabeth front and centre. In four different ways! But Part 2 takes a while to forge ahead and reign triumphant.

Ed McVey and Meg Bellamy make shy William and swotty Kate believable as a young couple who meet at university – or earlier, as per a flashback with (not Ghost!) Diana. I still found it hard to invest in their will-they-won't-they relationship (we already know they do.) 

Instead, it’s sisters Elizabeth and Margaret who have long been the emotional heart of this show; at every stage of their lives.

Former Oscar-nominee Lesley Manville (alongside Queen Imelda Staunton) is truly magnificent in Ep 8 as Princess Margaret, though it's painful watching this vibrant lady struggle as her health worsens.

Memories of the 1940's are a delight. However, I wish we'd seen more of wide-eyed teen Lilibet let loose (Viola Prettejohn) and carefree Marg (Beau Gadsdon) before older Margaret says her final goodbye.

Staunton saves her best for last, bringing dry humour, vulnerability as well as leadership to Ep 10. The 70+ min epic finale 'Sleep, Dearie Sleep' has its shaky moments, but beautifully completes Queen Elizabeth's story when it counts, bringing near-perfect closure. That alone elevates Season 6 beyond Season 5.

Warning - MAJOR SPOILERS AHEAD. This is my final *EVER* review (might be extra long!)

S6 is NOW ON NETFLIX - WATCH THE EPISODES before reading.

Images: courtesy of Netflix

Starting with less good news; the first couple of episodes of Part 2 were my least favourite. Ep 5, 'Willsmania', feels transitional, and a little stuck in the past. Following his mother's death, Prince William (Ed McVey; taking over from younger actor Rufus Kampa) turns inward as he struggles to cope with public attention and grief.

It's an understandable reaction to losing a parent, but Part 1 already spent nearly half a season on Dodi and Diana. It felt like we grieved in real time. As a result, whenever the subject of Diana crops up again in Part 2, it tends to weigh down both pace and narrative.

Ep 6 brings a welcome change of topic. This being The Crown, I'm sure there are critics poised to be offended by Queen Elizabeth's nightmare about Prime Minister Tony Blair being crowned king, but to me, his 'coronation' was hilarious, as was the choir boy singing Blair's cheesy Labour pop anthem.

It felt like deliberate tongue-in-cheek humour, an absurd reminder why monarchy might still be better than populist elected leaders.

I really wanted this episode to work, but it didn't go anywhere, and themes like tradition-vs-modernity were covered more effectively in episodes such as 'Marionettes.' Bertie Carvel has Tony Blair's voice down but suffers from comparisons with Michael Sheen, who was uncanny as the Prime Minister in 3 earlier Peter Morgan projects.

^ PM Tony Blair. The Women's Institute weren't fans of his grandstanding.

The Crown: The Next Generation fully arrives during Ep's 7, 9 & 10. Some will love it. Those who prefer more historical episodes with broader scope may be disappointed, as the show follows William and Kate through University life in the early 2000's.

The newcomers do bring fresh energy to the show. It helps that they cast Ed McVey and Meg Bellamy, who make a sweet couple as Will and Kate, even if William sometimes comes across as petulant.

Unlike Ed McVey as William, Luther Ford doesn't bear much physical resemblance to Prince Harry, other than red hair. Ford does however put in a good performance as Harry becomes increasingly reckless.

The Crown doesn't hide either Harry or William's bad behaviour. The brothers seem to get on well at the start, but it later seems like they're more at odds. Underneath a lot – a LOT – of boozing, both boys appear quietly screwed-up over their mother's death. Neither of them seem to enjoy playing happy families with Charles, either.

The show mostly concentrates on William and Kate, but there aren't many episodes left to develop a genuine romance. They have potential, but it feels fairly surface level. Suddenly, they rush to move into a house share together when we've barely seen them kiss. They (and we) needed more screen time to really get to know each other.

There's a bigger issue here with Kate's mother, Carole Middleton (Eve Best.) Pushy parent Carole is keen to play matchmaker between her 'commoner' daughter and the young eligible Prince, keeping tabs on William. Carole isn't as conniving, but ... didn't we just watch a similar storyline with Mohamed Al-Fayed/Dodi/Diana in Part 1?

^ Kate 'n' Will. Her Mum would frame this picture.

Ep 8 'Ritz' plays like a standalone film. Margaret's final story is touching, but upsetting, at times; I was a fan of Diana, yet sobbed as much for Margaret as the credits rolled, even though her eventual death isn't shown. In fact, her final goodbye is sensitively done and stands as a fitting tribute to the princess, as well as to the Queen.

Lesley Manville makes Margaret's predicament so real as her health slowly breaks down. She bounces back from one stroke, then another hits. How awful too for Elizabeth to watch a much-loved sister deteriorate, though it was wonderful to see Lilibet read Margaret a bedtime story. It brought out the warmer side of Staunton's Queen.

The scene where Margaret scalds her feet in the bath is genuinely horrifying. I've suffered from ill health and loss of control myself and this was so much worse. I could feel her pain. That poor woman.

Human moments are where The Crown excels; through this episode, this working-class lass from a council house could somehow relate to a Princess in a palace. Peter Morgan has surely done more to humanise the royal family than any P.R team ever could.

^ Fans of Margaret (and Lesley Manville) prepare yourselves for her sad final journey.

Onto the big reveal: when I mentioned at the start there are FOUR ways Queen Elizabeth appears – this is what I meant:-

^ Newcomer Viola Prettejohn plays teenage Princess Elizabeth.

^ & there's Olivia Colman & Claire Foy alongside older Queen Imelda Staunton.

Satisfyingly, all 3 of The Crown's leading ladies return to close the show. Olivia Colman and Claire Foy each have an additional scene, too (I won't spoil the entire finale, as it covers a lot of ground in over 70 mins, but Olivia and Claire aren't back as 'ghosts.')

As we get older, the ghosts who speak loudest are our own; the former versions of us we berate ourselves with. Not everyone may warm to the Queen (sort of) talking to herself, but personally, I was thrilled to see these talented actors on screen together.

Foy's scene with Staunton is particularly effective, as the younger Queen gives her older self an old-fashioned dutiful talking to. It's somehow also credible that they're aspects of the same person.

It reminded me of Peter Morgan’s 2013 (extraordinary) play, ‘The Audience', which inspired this series, and included scenes where Helen Mirren shared the stage with young Elizabeth. That play is also why this theatre-fan started watching The Crown to begin with, and later went on to create this website.

When Ep 10 finished playing, my Netflix returned itself to Season 1. 60 episodes over 7 years! I will miss the grand scale of The Crown, but appreciate the legacy which remains. Now feels like the right time for this story to end. A full-circle moment in more ways than one.

**Majestic thanks for reading, and to every person who has liked, reblogged, messaged, supported The Crown TV for all these years.

💎♕You each deserve a Crown of your own!♕💎**

N.B: These are my humble opinions at this point in time. No offence is intended. Agreement = lovely; not compulsory. Disagreement = happens; kindly coexist. Ta!

[goodqueenaly]

Grrm has said that he considers Queen Alysanne to be the Eleanor of Aquitaine of Westeros. do you like that comparison and/or can find any parallels?

For what it's worth, I tend to take that statement in context - namely, as a direction to the artist Amok on how he, GRRM, envisioned Alysanne. It is perhaps unsurprising that GRRM would reach for Katharine Hepburn as Eleanor in The Lion in Winter as the physical model for his older Alysanne: the 1968 classic featuring a dominating queenly lead would have been right in the young GRRM's wheelhouse, fitting comfortably alongside the midcentury medievalism which seems to have laid the early groundwork in his mind for ASOIAF. (Though in terms of personality, I think Hepburn's Eleanor may be more akin to someone like Olenna Redwyne - the powerful elder woman, sassy, confident, scheming, and ambitious.)

Anyway, I don't see much in the way of very strong parallels between Eleanor and Alysanne. Certainly, both women shared long but sometimes troubled marriages and many children, though these features are hardly unique to Eleanor. Alysanne was not, as Eleanor was, a titled and independent aristocrat in her own right, with an inheritance of her own to return to and rule (what a pity Alysanne did not have her own Poitiers to escape Jaehaerys!). Alysanne did not come to Jaehaerys a (former) queen and mature woman, but was instead a teenage princess (although you might make a thin comparison between Alysanne's attempt to elude a Baratheon marriage by eloping with Jaehaerys and Eleanor's escape from kidnapping and forced marriage to wed Henry II). The marriage of Henry and Eleanor was not, as Jaehaerys and Alysanne's was (at least to begin with) purely an affair of romantic passion but rather a political pact between high-ranking peers. The personal divisions between Jaehaerys and Alysanne were rooted not in spousal infidelity (which Henry practiced so spectacularly) nor filial rebellion, but rather Jaehaerys' violent misogyny. Alysanne's political power was far more limited than Eleanor's ever was, not only because Eleanor had her own properties, but because she was empowered to be regent in the reigns of both her husband and her son Richard. Eleanor was far more active in arranging politically advantageous marriages for her children and granddaughters than Alysanne ever seems to have been (especially since Fire and Blood Volume 1 did little to focus on diplomatic marriages for the Targaryen princes and princesses). Eleanor continued to be active politically and religiously well into widowhood (and indeed survived Henry II by some 15 years), while Alysanne of course predeceased Jaehaerys.

If we are looking for one specific historical source of inspiration as GRRM was creating Alysanne, I think the answer is Philippa of Hainault, especially as depicted in The Accursed Kings - the specifically less than beautiful princess, married for love as a teenager to her likewise teenage groom, a long-serving queen to the (ostensibly) greatest king of his dynasty, mother of a large family and the beau ideal of medieval queenship. (It's perhaps worth noting - and groaning once again - that Maurice Druon himself had nothing kind to say about Eleanor of Aquitaine - not only having his beloved Robert of Artois assert that Eleanor "having made her first husband ... so notorious a cuckold that their marriage was dissolved, took her wanton body and her duchy to" Henry II, but then adding as a "historical note" that Eleanor was "an unfaithful princess, at least to her first husband, the King of France" - assertions that, I need not remind you, have no basis in historical evidence.)

[haveyoureadthistransbook]

I'm looking for a trans fluffy book. Maybe a romance one I haven't read any good ones and so long. I can never find them so if you have any good suggestions.

Hi, so I want to start by linking the "romance" tag from this blog, there's hopefully some there you will enjoy.

I am personally not the biggest romance and fluff reader, so I would also ask my followers to weigh in if you know anything else! However, some fluffy/uplifting trans stories I read and enjoyed are:

The Prince's Dearest Guards by Beau Van Dalen - also quite spicy and featuring some dysphoria, but mainly sweet and fluffy and about accepting oneself (trans man MC)

As the Light Goes Out by Olive J. Kelley - short and really fluffy, adhd acceptance, some negative feelings about adhd & burnout, but very much centered on healing (trans man LI)

The Companion by E.E. Ottoman - short, spicy and incredibly fluffy, t4t4t (trans woman MC, trans man LI, trans woman LI)

The Left Hand of Dog by Si Clarke - sci fi, very nerdy, very sweet, not inherently a romance, but features a romance plot, it has a talking dog which is always very good (nonbinary transfem MC)

Any Other City by Hazel Jane Plante - fictional memoir, very bittersweet at points, but also filled with so much community and love and trans joy and queer sex. (tw for self harm/suicide attempt in the past, abusive relationship in the past and dysphoria + bad sex due to it). (trans woman MC)

A Psalm for the Wild Built by Becky Chambers - cozy post-apocalyptic sci fi (we fixed it. what now?), like a warm cup of tea, very fluffy, about finding your own way (nonbinary MC)

As far as I know anything by Ela Bambust (but especially Principles of Non-Euclidean Romance & Any Other Name) - really sweet and loving and magical stories of trans acceptance and coming out (trans woman MC)

Mooncakes by Suzanne Walker - a comic about a young Deaf witch and a nonbinary werewolf, short and sweet, does deal with fighting oppression a bit (nonbinary LI)

Dulhaniyaa by Talia Bhatt - a short romance, does feature arranged marriage and past heartbreak, but overall very fluffy and sweet and romantic & very bollywood (trans woman LI)

Those are a few I could think off, but again I'm not the biiiiggest romance reader out there, so there's definitely more :) I hope you'll be able to find something you enjoy!

[lunarmoonanons]

The Rogue Prince and The Precious Princess

🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕  

Daemon plays with the Small Dragon princess, aiming his sights on her for the future. 

🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕  

Masterlist 

The Keep was finally lively again. Due to the success of Maegelle reconciling her parents, the court welcomed back the good Queen and her two sweet daughters. Now at age 6, YN could run about the Keep with her favorite playmate, Daemon. The 9 year old boy had always enjoyed playing with YN, even if she was 3 years his junior; the two would be seen playing tag, or skipping around the yards, or even sneaking around the gardens when they could sneak out of Alysanne’s sight for a moment. Now the two were running around the Keep chasing the other around, much to the delight of the nobles and guards whom they dodged. 

“You can’t catch me, Daemon!” YN giggled and swerved around a guard who smiled at the little princess. 

“Just you wait!” Daemon teased, he was slowing himself down purposefully to lengthen the game. When YN turned a corner he sped up and slid across the floor to get her. 

But when he turned the corner, YN was not in sight. Tentatively, he stepped forward and looked around for her. Ears perked when he heard giggling behind a pillar. YN was hiding from him. Catching a peek of her dress behind one, Daemon swerved around the pillar to jump out at YN. When YN peeked her head out to see Daemon, she was confused when his image did not appear. Suddenly, two hands reached out behind her and tickled her sides, sending YYN into a fury of laughter. 

“Caught You!” Daemon laughed, pleased with himself as he sent YN into unstoppable laughter. 

“Let.. HAHA…Let me…. HAHAHA… Let me GO! HAHAHAHA!” YN laughed hysterically and squirmed in his hold. When he finally let her go, YN remained smiling at the silver haired boy. “So, what should we play now?”

“Hmmm. Hide n Seek?” Daemon offered, taking long dramatic steps to circle around YN who copied his goose steps. 

“Nah, I keep getting lost and Mommy gets sad when ‘m lost.” YN responded, twirling her silver hair. 

“How about hops?” Daemon asked, smiling at the game where they’d bounce around the castle and keep it up till they saw the King or Queen. 

“My legs are too tired. Let’s play a new game!” YN suggested, excited at her new idea. 

“What about Marriage?” Daemon asked, thinking of the game he heard some of the court ladies’ daughters who played the same game with their perspective beaus. 

“What’s that game?” YN asked, tilting her head dramatically to let her hair dangle. 

“We pretend to be married and call each other husband and wife. And we have to stay together the entire time.” Daemon said hoping YN would agree. His father always said that he might marry YN, so in his mind they were just practicing. 

“Wouldn’t you play this game with Gael? She’s around your age. Daddy says ‘m too small to ever marry.” YN asked him, now suddenly wanting to find Gael and include her in their games. 

“I don’t want her. She’s too simple for me. I wanna play with someone who can keep up!” Daemon whined and held out his hand. “Please? Just for today?”

“Mkay.” YN relented and grabbed his hand, not noticing how tight he began to grip his small hand. 

“Perfect! Now let’s go to the throne room, wife!” Daemon smirked at his triumph. 

“Yes yes, hubband.” YN giggled and skipped alongside him. 

“Husband.”

“S’what I said.” 

The two young ones skipped around the keep, smiling at the people and calling each other their new titles. No one seemed to raise an eyebrow at it, since so many like Prince Baelon assumed the two would be wed one day as was custom in the Targaryen line. YN was giggling and enjoying the fake title she had now, but not as much as Daemon enjoyed it. This was more fun than practicing his Valyrian or reading histories. Though not as fun as swordplay, or flying with his father on his father’s dragon, he did enjoy his time with YN. He, like others, loved the little princess the minute she graced the Keep with her bright smile. The two were playmates when she began to walk around as his father designed it. The queen did want him to play with Gael, but Daemon found her to be too boring and dull, but YN was fun. She indulged his games and could keep up with the prince. Daemon had missed her when the queen took her away to Dragonstone, he had asked his father as to why YN was going away but Baelon could give no satisfying answer to the boy. 

Once the two had made it to the throne room, YN let go of Daemon’s hand and ran up to the throne. Much to Daemon’s dismay. 

“YN…” Daemon whined. “Your supposed to keep hold of my hand, wife.”

“Come to the chair with me!” YN smiled and waved him over. When he found his way over, YN grabbed his hand again and brought him up to the throne. “Daddy lets me sit on the chair with him sometimes.”

“It’s called a throne.”

“Drone.”

“Throne.”

“That’s what I said.” YN waved off his comment. 

YN pulled Daemon up the steps so that the two may directly sit on the throne. Daemon hissed at the slight pain the swords gave him when he sat on the Iron throne. The two managed to both sit the throne at the same time. YN kicked her feet around, while Daemon gaped at how long the room looked from this throne. He smiled at YN who returned it with her own bright and wide smile. With a boldness, like Alyssa before him, Daemon lifted YN’s tiny hand to his mouth and placed a kiss sweetly on it. 

“You and I will be married one day. And I’d be the kindest husband to you. I’d take you for a ride on my dragon every day, and we’d-”

“And you’d what? Daemon.” A loud voice interrupted them. Jaehaerys entered the throne room with a slight scowl on his face. 

“Daddy!” YN jumped off the throne and ran to her father, laughing when he lifted her up to his arms. “We were playing a new game! And we ran around the keep together! I escaped my tutor and tried to find you but I couldn’t so I found Daemon and we played chase. And-”

“Hush. Hush YN. I can’t understand you when you speak so fast.” Jaehaerys chuckled at his daughter’s ramblings. Several other lords had made their way into the room, intending to speak to the king and smiling at the sweet sight of Jaehaerys holding his daughter. “Now. What game were you playing?”

“Nothing… just a silly game called marriage.” Daemon mumbled and hopped down from the throne. 

“Hmm. And what makes you think you’d wed YN?” Jaehaerys contained his anger at the thought of someone taking YN away from him. “I do not think you are worthy enough to marry her. No one is.”

“Your majesty… do you not intend to wed her off eventually?” A lord asked, confused that Jaehaerys aimed to keep YN unwed her whole life. 

“I cannot deny that I have never wished to see YN wed. I am happy with her company and do not in the least want a separation.” Jaehaerys gave YN a tight hug and then turned his gaze to Daemon who did not waver in his glance. “And you must get back to your studies. Perhaps then you will be worthy for her. But I doubt it.”

With that, Jaehaerys dismissed the boy who’s face was red with anger and pride. Daemon collected himself as best a child could and made his way back to his rooms so that he could finish his studies. He would be worthy of YN. He’d show the old King that he’d be a strong man and a worthy match for the most precious princess.

@missglaskin

[notwritinganyflufftoday]

Magical Boys WIP Intro

Saving their friend (and the whole world, I guess?) with the power of love, magic and being kinda gross.

Falling into a swamp is never fun, but it's worse when it turns out to be a magic swamp with a monster that kidnaps the most popular, princely and perfect guy in school.

It also transforms Billy and his two classmates, Beau and Younes, into very stereotypical magical boys —frills, sparkles and colour-coordinated outfits included.

Not only do they have to navigate this bizarre new world in form-fitting skirts and shorts, they have to do it quickly in order to rescue Arno before the monster that kidnapped him... tries to marry him?

Billy, Beau and Younes have quite a big task ahead of them and that's not even to mention the interpersonal drama teenagers can and will get into when it really isn't the time for it.

---

Based entirely on my love for the magical girl genre and everything it entails when it comes to modern fantasy romance with my own gay and trans spin on it.

A three-part story catered to a (queer) young adult audience.

Current status: book 1 draft 1 finished, writing draft 2

Third person limited | Multiple POVs | present tense

In case you're interested in following along while i'm writing this story. I will be tagging it as "#magical boys wip" for as long as it doesn't have an official title, and let me know if you want to be added to a taglist, so I can start one up.

Character introductions for the boys!

Taglist: @dustylovelyrun, @wildswrites, @sarandipitywrites, @skyderman, @thelaughingstag

[napoleonic-sexyman-tournament]

Horatio Hornblower:

a. “He is the wettest soggiest boat man who hates being on a boat and hates his life but is actually very good at being a boat man and fighting Frogs. He canonically invented the shower and has a lot of other boat men hose him down every day. He has so much sexual tension going on with Lieutenant William Bush.”

Arthur Wellesley:

"So, I saw that you had no propaganda for the Iron Duke himself and thought that should be corrected, because I cannot let this man go unloved.

He is the ultimate sexyman. I don't really get that title or the requirements but I do know this man and he is the ultimate in Regency-era sexiness.

Field Marshal Sir Arthur Wellesley, First Duke of Wellington, whose full list of titles merits its own Wikipedia page, he had so many (including Prince of Waterloo of the Kingdom of the Netherlands), was so well known for his debonairness that he was often called "the Beau" or Beau Wellesley.

Our dear Duke with his eyes of "a brilliant light blue," is quite the underdog made good. The fourth son of an Anglo-Irish aristocratic family, he was a bit of a loner as a child, whose star was eclipsed by the academic success of his older and younger brothers. Yet he had a remarkable talent for the violin, which as we know from Mrs. Jefferson is quite a good quality for a man to have. As a young man he was considered extremely good humored and drew "much attention" from female society. The Napiers of Celbridge thought he was a "saucy stripling" and he was also considered quite mischievous. Yet he also had a rich inner life, reading and contemplating the great philosophers of the day.

Yes, we know about his military victories in the Peninsula (the position of Field Marshal of the British Army and the accompanying baton were created for him) and his success at Waterloo, but he was also both romantic and a ladies' man. (I could go on about the military success but that's not really what this is about, is it?)

Want the romantic side? He fell in love with Kitty Pakenham while a lowly aide-de-camp in Dublin but, with no real position or prospects, was laughed away by her brother when he sought to marry her. In a fit of pique he destroyed his violin and turned firmly toward progressing his career. Over a decade later, after he had made something of himself in India, he learned she hadn't married, supposedly because she was still pining for him. Reader, he married her, despite thinking she'd grown ugly, and got two children from her in less than two years. I'm not kidding, this man was virile. They married in April of 1806, their first son was born in February, 1807, and their second son was born in January 1808. Although he wasn't sexual faithful to her, Wellington wore an amulet she gave him for over twenty years, and was still wearing it when he sat with her on her deathbed. When she was surprised he still wore it, he told her if she'd just bothered to check in the last twenty years, she'd have found it. Despite surviving her by twenty years, the Duke never remarried.

Now, please don't think badly of him for the lack of sexual fidelity. It was the Georgian era. Sexual fidelity was not a part of marriage in high society. Men didn't sleep only with their wives and some wives could be quite happy with that (for one, it's much easier not to have one pregnancy after another when your husband is sleeping with someone else). Not that women weren't also sleeping around. Which brings me to one of Wellington's more… interesting conquests: Lady Caroline Lamb, wife of William Lamb (the future Second Viscount Melbourne and Prime Minister). Why do I know that name, you ask? The OG pixie manic dream girl, Caro's much more notably known for her affair with Lord Byron. After that particular bit of nonsense, she was in Brussels with the rest of the English aristocracy during the 100 Days/post Waterloo. She and the Duke supposedly slept together and she took his cloak away as a souvenir.

Who else did the Duke liaise with? Well, there were the usual flings with actresses and singers, such as La Grassini. As previously noted in another post on this tumblr, he was noted as a stronger, better lover than Napoleon by another of their mutual lovers. Wellington also was a client of Harriette Wilson. He visited her when she was in Paris after the Duke of Beaufort bought her off, though this was before Beaufort stopped paying her, prompting her to publish her memoirs. She canvassed her old lovers, including Wellington, to see if they'd pay her not to be in them. Wellington send her a note in return saying "Publish and be Damned." Something about his succinct dismissal of her is just so hot.

Oh, want a bit more of Wellington being a bad boy? In 1829, while Prime Minister, he got into a duel that still is commemorated almost two hundred years later. King's College, London, was set up while Wellington was also advocating for Catholic Emancipation and this led to Lord Winchilsea publicly insulting Wellington's honor to the point that the Duke (who'd never dueled before or supported dueling generally) called him out. They went to Battersea Fields and settled the matter with pistols. Wellington won and Winchelsea apologized. King's College celebrates "Duel Day" every March.

Even better, want to read about Elizabeth Bennet and the Duke being witty and falling in love? Complete with scenes of the Duke showing he knows what to do with his cannon? Then let me recommend the third variation of An Ever Fixed Mark, A Dalliance with the Duke. I dare you not to vote for him for all eternity with that portrayal in your head."