#i rewatch that dance so often

[miceeonvenus]

The first time a dance brought me to tears, I was sat on the floor of my dance studio, watching people show their dances so they could practice being in front of an audience. I discovered then that the identical twins on the team had a duo together. I don't know what I was expecting, but they got up and preformed the most intimate, genuine, loving dance despite the informality and messiness.

[ereborne]

Song of the Day: May 24

"Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps" by The Pussycat Dolls*

[terriblespy]

somethin to be said for getting tipsy alone in your room tbh…

[benedictscanvas]

could you possibly do a benedict bridgerton friends to lovers fic with maybe some jealousy thrown in there? i adore your writing 🫶🏻

this request could not have come at a better time! i finally started my bridgerton rewatch recently and i can feel myself sparking with ideas yet again :) || 2k words, tw benedict is PINING & this is much more suggestive than my usual content, so 18+ please!

can't bear it - benedict bridgerton x reader

He looked bored. It was the first thing you noticed upon entering the ballroom and, in truth, it was often the first thing you noticed upon entering any ballroom. Over your years of friendship, it seemed you had a highly trained eye to seek him out amongst any crowd.

Just as your eyes strayed to him, as if he had similar training, his found you. What had been a dull stare at the ground to avoid any accidental eye contact with the Mamas scattered about the room quickly became a bright and excitable gaze locked to yours and you returned his slow-spreading smile with a rather unladylike grin.

"Hi," he mouthed, a grin of his own now twisting his features. You shook your head at him fondly, biting the inside of your cheek in a foolish attempt to stop your grin from growing any wider.

You were lucky to have a sister with whom your mother was preoccupied. It made it easy to hurry along the sides of the ballroom, exchanging nods with those you passed without stopping to greet them properly, to end up next to Benedict in record time.

You stood side by side, your usual routine, the backs of your hands inches apart but both facing outwards, as if surveying the rest of the room. Each one of your senses was entirely tuned into him as soon as you entered his presence, but it would not look as such to any onlookers.

"You'll start more rumours if you keep trying to communicate across such wide distances, Lord Bridgerton," you began, eyes fixed on the twirling couples so you didn't sneak a glance in his direction, "I thought we were attempting to rid ourselves of the clamours for our engagement."

"They can hardly read into a mere greeting," he responded easily, the words a mere murmur from the corner of his mouth, "I am a gentleman, as you know, and it would be impolite to simply ignore you."

"It would. You couldn't ignore me if you tried, anyway," you mused, "You'd get ever so bored."

"Always so self-important."

His mutter makes you bite back a smirk. Perhaps facing away from each other did nothing to hide your obvious conversation after all. Violet would be sure to notice, you knew, and may once again force Benedict into explaining the lack of proposal between the two of you.

In recent weeks, however, you had been struggling to explain it to yourself. Benedict was so dear to you, so utterly different to the men that regularly bored you, that once you had struck up such unlikely friendship, it seemed you valued it far too much to take it any further.

That, and there had never been any indication that Benedict himself saw marital potential within you. He was by no means a shy man. If he wanted you, you were quite sure he would have swept you off your feet by now.

And what a sweeping it would be, in those strong arms barely concealed by the crisp white shirt, billowing fabric...

"Good evening, Miss Y/L/N," a voice broke you from your spell, and your gaze accidentally drifted to Benedict in surprise before landing on the man interrupting you, "I believe I was promised a dance last we met, and I have heard you are a lady of your word."

You had to fight to keep yourself from frowning as you wracked your brains for his name. Unfortunately, you came up entirely empty and had no choice but to respond vaguely.

"I certainly would not like to gain a reputation for breaking promises," you smiled as taught, taking in handsome features and arms that didn't fill in a shirt nearly as well as Benedict's. You shook that thought from your head as you placed your hand in the unnamed stranger's own, "It would be an honour."

There was a splutter to your left, no doubt Benedict struggling to conceal his amusement at the sudden change in your tone. You allowed the man to lead you to the dance floor, turning subtly to send Benedict a wry smile but finding him staring right through you, expression anything but amused.

It wiped the smile clean off your own face.

His face was thunder throughout your dance, you noticed, however much you tried to focus on the pleasantly mundane conversation provided by your new partner. He really was quite good looking, if only you could appreciate it, but you were entirely preoccupied by Benedict's new foul mood and what could have caused it.

As the dance ended, you bowed politely to your captor, which was the only word that came to mind for him, and hurried in the direction of your favourite friend only to find him gone. This time you did frown, despite your mother's warnings of wrinkles, and picked up your skirt lightly as you slipped out of the ballroom.

Searching side room after side room proved useful. You soon found what could be described as a studio, with large windows to let the light in but currently only cast moonlight across the canvases spread around the room. The moon also lit up half of Benedict, who was stood at the window, staring out into the gardens.

"Be prepared to hide under that desk if anyone should come knocking," you said, startling him as you clicked the door shut behind you, "I shan't let you compromise my honour just because I have to chase after you when you're having a tantrum."

He glowered at you at the mention of a tantrum, the kind of look he usually levelled his brothers with rather than you. It was new territory and you found yourself quickly floundering.

"I did not bid you to follow me."

"And yet here I am," you reminded, taking a tentative step, "So why don't you put a stop to this strange mood and tell me what's wrong?"

"I'd rather not," he said curtly, his voice a little wrong as he turned to face you at last. Were those tears? "Please return to the festivities and I will join you momentarily."

You'd never seen Benedict cry before. In fact, you weren't sure you'd ever seen a man cry in your life, and the sight was terrifying. You wanted nothing more than to wrap him up in a long overdue embrace, but you kept yourself stock still in the middle of the room.

"Benedict..." you began, not sure where you were going despite the plea in your voice, "Please. I have never seen you like this."

He laughs, but its harsh.

"You must not be very observant then, Y/N."

"I beg your pardon?"

"In fact, you must be positively blind. Maddeningly so. How do you ever get anything done?"

You could feel tears of your own welling up in your eyes and blinked them away furiously. It was a great effort to keep your voice level when you spoke.

"I have known you to be many things, Bridgerton, but you are not cruel. I am sure I have done nothing to deserve such vehement insult, so-"

"I quite disagree," he interrupted, face fierce as he stalked over to you until he was right in front of you. Your chest heaved as you looked up at him, eyes wide, and felt the rise of his chest almost against your own, "You are observant, Y/N, and far from blind. It is your cruelty at fault here, not mine. It is yours."

He hissed the last word, pointing a finger at you so close to your chest that your head was spinning. His closeness was intoxicating, his scent crowding you out of enough oxygen and his words were making you lightheaded with panic.

"You're not making any sense," you murmured. His fingertips ghosted across the fabric of your dress near your hips, barely there, and nowhere near the skin underneath.

"You must see it," he mutters back, all gritted teeth and barely concealed restraint, "You must see that I worship you. That I always have."

Your inhale sounded more like a gasp. He shook his head above you, moving closer until his chin was pressed hard into your temple and you keened into the touch.

"I know you do not feel the same. And you are not obligated to, I swear it. But taunting me as you do. Playing with me only to dance with another..." he trails off, breath shuddering, and you can hear those tears in his voice again, "I can't bear it. Please, Y/N, I cannot bear it."

Neither can you.

You reach up and take his face in both hands, finding chiseled cheekbones and jawline, thumbs either side of his lips as you pull him until you can look up into his face again. Your gaze flickers across his face, and you wipe the tears from his face with shaking fingers.

"You're blind, Benedict," you say, leaning up on your tiptoes until your lips brush his, soft, like the ghost of his fingertips against fabric. You know what you want him to do and you need him to do it first, need him to take your lead and run away with it.

When he fists his hands in your dress at your hips and drags you into him, your prayers are answered.

He opens your mouth to his, still gentle but insistent, demanding more, more, more of you. You'd give him everything, right here, mainly because you know he'd never take it. He seems more than content with the here and now as it is, especially when your hands slip into his hair and he lets out a low grumble of a moan that you feel everywhere.

He's trying to pull you closer still when you break for air, gasping it in as the two of you pant into each other's mouths. He runs a hand down your hair, your neck, your arm, until he intertwines his fingers with yours, chases your lips for a peck, then another, then another. You meet him with a lazy grin.

"I dance with the Lords of the ton every ball," you breathe out, "I'd have noticed if you reacted like this every time."

Benedict was grinning too. He looked far more like himself when he did.

"They are usually old, ugly fools," he said, wrinkling his nose in distaste at the thought, "I always hate them having their hands all over you, but watching a young charming bastard who may just have a chance with you hold you as I have always dreamed of doing? It was enough."

"He never had a chance, my Lord," you assured, tracing his hairline, his earlobe just to see him shiver, "You are, as already accused, blissfully blind. Blind as a bat, I should think."

"Recent developments would suggest that to be true," he mused, glowing in a way he wouldn't usually when wrong. Then, all too quickly, his face briefly fell, "I truly apologise for all that I said to you, Y/N. There is no excuse, it was cruel."

"Hm," you agreed, "It was. Although, I can think of a multitude of ways you can make it up to me. Would you care to hear them?"

His eyes lit up at the realisation of your teasing. It was familiar, exactly what had drawn you both to each other time and time again. It was likely what would keep you together for eternity.

"I would like nothing more."

"How about I sit right up here..." you began lowly, moving to take a seat on the desk, "-you sit yourself underneath this desk, and we can have a conversation about compromising my honour."

You grinned at him wolfishly. It looked almost as if his eyes rolled back into his head already, but it wasn't long until he was kneeling in front of you, hands on the hem of your dress.

"And what would you know about compromising your honour, Miss Y/L/N?"

You ran a hand through his hair and used it to roughly yank him forward, until his nose was pressed to the fabric of your dress, exactly where you wanted him. It was easy to see it now, as he stared up at you in total awe: the way he worshipped you.

"Let's find out, shall we?"

if you’d like to request something, please do so here! i’d love to hear from you, sunflower <3

[hadesisqueer]

I'm not saying people must ship Kataang or anything, everyone here is free to ship whatever people want, but at the same time, some of the criticism I see of the ship is insane.

One of the softer ones (because today I saw some crazy stuff) is that they're sibling coded. Like, I watched ATLA several times, I kind of just rewatched ATLA, and yet I still don't get how exactly they're sibling coded? Aang pretty much had a crush on Katara from the moment he met her, and Katara at first saw him as a friend —she never said she saw him as 'her little brother', by the way, you guys need to learn the differences between sibling dynamics and friend dynamics—. That starts changing at the end of The Fortune Teller when she begins seeing Aang from another perspective, though. By the beginning of Book 2 it's pretty clear she has already started to develop a crush on him. If you think it's very 'sisterly' of her to blush while asking Aang 'we're in the Cave of the Two Lovers, so what if, you know-- what if we kissed 😳👉🏻👈🏻', then get upset when Aang said he wouldn't kiss her and then after they did kiss and were already out she blushes and gets nervous again-- or when she gets jealous in The Headband when he dances with another girl and then blushes again while dancing with him-- you're tuning into the wrong show, go watch Game of Thrones or something, because this is not it.

You can argue that Katara was 'like an older sister' or 'motherly' to Aang over the fact that she was often very caring towards him, but honestly, that's not it, either; otherwise, you could say that Katara sees Zuko as her brother because she likes teasing him. Do I think Katara and Zuko are sibling-coded? Not really. But if you say that Katara was sisterly or motherly to Aang because she's caring towards him, you can also say Katara sees Zuko as her brother because she often teased him the exact same way she teased Sokka, her older brother. (I do not think Katara sees Zuko as her brother, btw; just clearing this up. And I may not ship him and Katara but if that's your ship, you do you, I am not getting into a ship war here).

Katara in general is a very caring person, to the point that yeah, it comes off as 'motherly' sometimes. She was like that not just to Aang but towards Toph and Sokka as well. That doesn't mean she really sees any of them as her 'children' as well, guys, nor do any of them actually see them as their mother (well, Sokka kind of did, but that's another thing). And she's very protective of Aang, yeah. Try to switch Kataang's gender for a second; Katara as the boy and Aang as the girl. Switch it up and you have a girl with a cute crush on a slightly older boy who at first sees her as a friend but after a while starts reciprocating. If you saw that boy act more caring and protective of that girl, you wouldn't assume he sees her as a daughter, you'd just assume he is extremely protective because his feelings are strong. I once saw someone saying 'Katara acts like a Booktok boyfriend' and honestly? Kind of, yeah. A lot of Kataang is them being kind of a reverse of the stereotypical 'kind but stronger, older boy gets with sweet, younger girl' stuff we see in a lot of media. Both of them are very caring and supportive and constantly reassure each other, not just Katara to Aang, (and Aang is also very protective of Katara as well, we see it many times, most of all in The Avatar State), but Katara is the older one, and usually the most protective as well, the one who fought off Zuko at the North Pole to protect Aang, the one who almost lost it when she saw him literally die and fought off the Dai Li, Zuko and Azula to get him and get out at The Crossroads of Destiny, the one who grabs Zuko when he joins them and literally tells him 'hurt Aang and I will kill you'.

Yeah, I don't think Kataang is sibling-coded at all. That person is right, Katara is just Aang's 'Booktok boyfriend'.

[dulcewrites]

Fool Me Once

Pairing: aemond targaryen x reader (wc: 2.4k)

Summary: Learning about Aemond’s indiscretions hurts more than you thought it would, and leads you to accepting help from an unlikely source.

Warnings: gaslighting and manipulation on Aemond’s part, reader being slightly naive :(

A/N: I love rewatching certain eps or scenes for inspo. I got inspo for this watching the iconic knife scene. Very interested lately in writing women that eventually (and rightfully) snap after being actively harmed by patriarchy/the men in their lives. Also alys and aemond meet after the dance starts but let’s pretend they meet right before viserys passes. This will have a slightly ambiguous ending… for funsies 🫶🏽

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Fmo Masterlist

You consider yourself a forbearing person. Your resigned nature was natural to you, but also the way you’ve been bred to be. Your mother especially preaching that good things come to those who not only wait but keep their heads while waiting. This idea only got compounded once your family arrived at court in King’s Landing. Now you had septas, on top of your mother, teaching you the ways of a ‘proper’ lady. Demure, well read and groomed, and obedient. You did was expected because what else could you do. Your parents were in your ear telling you do not waste the opportunity in front of you. An opportunity for a better life.

For a time, you thought your mother had a point. You did as you were told, and good things fell into place. Princess Helaena and you became fast friends through your lessons. Your interest in plants crossing over with her interest in insects and arachnids. Through your friendship with her, you caught the eye of Queen Alicent.

Despite your shy disposition, you managed to get in the good graces of the most powerful family in the Seven Kingdoms. You trusted the process.

But the cracks in the restrictive facade started once the discussion marriage entered the picture. You knew marrying for love was not something everyone was afforded, but you thought maybe you had a chance. There were tries for courtships here and there, but it was something you kept putting off. The clock was ticking, and no one let you forget it. Especially after your friends, including Helaena, started getting married and having families of their own.

You still remember the thrilled smile on your mother’s face when Queen Alicent not so subtly suggested a union between Prince Aemond and you.

The One-Eyed Prince. He had been nice enough towards you. But you were sure most of that was out of sheer obligation because his mother and sister liked you. Despite the love you have for Helaena and the respect you have for the queen, the idea of marrying into the family terrified you. You saw the burden and hurt each of them carried. Even with the possibility that Aemond wasn’t as bad as Prince Aegon or King Viserys, his brooding nature still made you nervous for what a marriage with him would mean.

“Your work has paid off my sweet girl”

It took a simple sentence from your mother to change your mind. The ever growing need to be validated spurred you into a decision you’d later question.

The courtship was quick and to the point, much like Aemond. He wasn’t thrilled with the decision. Then again, happiness was not an emotion you’d seen him exude very often. You did not know what it looked like.

Throughout the courting, wedding celebrations, wedding itself and after, you two had a mutual understanding or so you thought.

You saw the change in him. When you’re all but forced to spend your days with someone, you notice their behavior more. He’s lighter it seems. You don’t know how to explain it, but he moves different.

The only feeling you can compare it to is when you were pregnant with Daella, your daughter. For all his faults, you can acknowledge that Aemond is a good father. He was from the moment the maester told you two the news. He was attentive and uncharacteristically warm to you during your pregnancy. And then he acted as if a weight was lifted off his shoulders when she was born. Even now, he indulges her rambunctious antics and playful conduct in a way he wouldn’t for anyone else. His precious byka zaldrīzes

His devotion never wanes when it comes to her. It was a different story for you and him.

It was foolish, but so typical of you. You had done your duty so well that you’re now in the position of having genuine feelings for him. Wanting your husband shouldn’t be a problem. But craving the love and affection of an enigma like Aemond is not for the faint hearted.

“Is my brother with his whore tonight,” his words were cruel, but he genuinely seemed curious. Aegon and you always had a strange relationship. He wasn’t rude though certainly not kind. You remember overhearing the way he described you after you two first met: pretty but terribly dull. You didn’t know what hurt worse: him saying that or the lack of pushback from Aemond.

“Aegon!”

Alicent gives you a pained look before pulling Aegon to side during dinner. You can tell by her scowl and his now sheepish facial expression that she’s using some choice words.

You thank the seven that Daella was asleep after a long day of playing with her cousins and wasn’t at dinner. The empty spot next to you feels vast. This is the third dinner he has missed. It never occurred to you that Aemond would seek companionship elsewhere. Now that it’s on your mind, you can’t forget it.

His whore

Aemond and Aegon are not the same. You know Aemond is not the type for frivolous intimate moments with silk street brothel women. You also know the intimacy he seeks requires knowing someone. He requires way more stimulation. Whether that is a blessing or a curse… you don’t know.

Aegon’s comment had you on high alert. Paranoid even. When Aemond is away, you wonder what he’s doing and who with. It only gets worse the sicker King Viserys grows. It shows on everyone in the family. Queen Alicent gets more anxious for what’s to come, Aegon lashes out, Helaena becomes more cryptic and silent, you wonder how this will impact your already complex relationship with this family, but then there’s Aemond. He shrugs off any ill feelings towards the situation.

At first you wondered if it is because he’s the only one that’s made peace with that relationship never being mended. He didn’t seem to seek out the same approval or explanation for Viserys’ bad parenting that everyone else still craves. With the King dying, meant the chance of change dying as well. But really his mind is elsewhere.

You know you’ve reached a new low when you try to pry information from Ser Criston. If anyone knows where Aemond sneaks off to, you assume it would be Criston. But in the end, it was wrong to go to him. Criston is fiercely loyal to Alicent and in turn fiercely loyal to her children. Though he has treated you kindly, he would never give up more information than he had to.

The idea greatly backfires when then you find yourself the one being questioned.

“If you want to know where I go, you could simply ask,” Aemond’s tone is cool and composed. It makes you uneasy.

He leans leisurely against the wall. You freeze hearing that declaration. Criston must’ve told him about your worries. It feels a bit surreal now having the opportunity to confront him about your thoughts. The words run through your head but never seem to make it out of your mouth.

“You know I like going for long rides with Vhagar,” he starts walking towards you. “She’s older; she needs to stay sharp.”

You do know that. It’s something you found endearing about him, despite how you feel about dragons.

“I just feel like I haven’t seen you much,” you manage to get it out with a forced smile. “Like you’re always away.”

He tilts his head to the side in question. You feel like one of Helaena’s bugs. Inspected and poked.

“You don’t like being around Vhagar,” he points out. “I’d love to take you with me, but you don’t want that now do you.”

You look down at your hands. He doesn’t get it. He has the blood of the dragon flowing through him. For him, Vhagar is a symbol of pride and declaration of love for his ancestors and house. To you, she’s an unpredictable power that you still think humans should not mess with. It’s better to chalk it up to you fearing versus bringing up how you really feel about them. How you share the same skepticism many people across the Seven Kingdoms do. It scares you to think about Daella getting a dragon of her own. You see the awe in her eyes when she looks at her egg or when Aemond tells her stories of the past and present that include them.

Oh, the irony of you being weary of dragons while bounded to a man who rides the biggest of them all.

“No, I don’t,” you mumble. You finally work up the courage to bring up what you really want. “It’s just Aegon said something about you, and I guess it made me think about where you go so often.”

The words adultery or whore make your tongue feel heavy, and don’t come out He sighs once he reaches you, grabbing your face in his hands making you look at him.

“My wife do not let the thoughts of the small minded people cloud your judgment,” he leans his forehead down to yours. “You’re smarter than that.”

He’s not wrong, it is like Aegon stir things up. Aemond has a way of doing this. A way of making you feel silly with his self-assurance. He makes it easy to doubt your gut instincts. His affection has a similar debilitating quality. It’s why your head gets a bit fuzzy when he kisses you. A warm and gentle kiss that left you a bit weak in the knees. You sigh when his lips move to the sensitive spot under your ear.

“We should have another babe,” his whisper makes your eyes shoot open. “Give Daella a sibling.”

You pull away, eyes wide. As much as you loved how Aemond doted on you while you were with Daella, you also remember how difficult the experience was. How towards the end, you were basically confined to the castle as to not risk your health or the babe’s. Your every thought being on the life in your stomach.

“A little warrior would be nice, no?”

Aemond had told you he’s not picky about how many children you two have or even the sex of them. But you’re sure like any noble man, he wants his blood and name passed on as much as possible. Especially as a Targaryen. You’d be lying if you said the thought of a little boy didn’t make you happy. Your children hopefully having a strong bond.

You look at the seemingly earnest look in his eye. You nod with a nervous smile, and he kisses you again. That night being the first of many he tried to put an heir in you.

He wouldn’t want another child while his heart is not it… right?

You gingerly rub your stomach while leaning your head back against the seat. Ever grateful that you have Queen Alicent and Helaena to keep you company and help. Taking Daella off your hands during the day while you rest, your pregnancy making you more tired.

Before you can fall asleep, your lady in waiting peaks her head in the room.

“I’m sorry to disturb you princess, but Lord Strong has requested to see you.”

Your brows furrow. You have seen Larys Strong around, but outside of that he’s been a mystery to you. A figure looming in the background but never someone you interacted with regularly.

“Send him in.”

Lord Strong comes in, small smile on his face. You motion for him to sit in the chair next to you.

“Princess, you’re glowing,” he starts as he sits. “The halls are buzzing with excitement about a new babe.”

You raise a brow. Maybe you outwardly look better than you feel because you don’t feel positively glowing. Not in the slightest. You didn’t feel this exhausted till later when you had Daella.

“Thank you Lord Strong,” you try to keep a kind smile on your face. “What can I do for you today?”

“I just wanted to check in. Let you know that if you need anything, I am always of service.”

You nod slowly, confused about where this is all coming from. What service?

“I know how stressful being with child can be, especially when the father is… busy,” he continues, leaning back in the seat.

Your smile drops. For a time, you did think things were getting better. Aemond seemed excited when you two found out you were with child again. Things were good till they weren’t anymore. He’s not around again, and now you are going to bring another life into an unstable situation. The tone of Larys’ voice makes you uneasy. He smiles like he knows something you don’t.

“I appreciate the kindness, but I do not think your um services are needed.”

He nods at that before reaching into his pocket and handing you what you assume is a letter. He motions you to read it. You stare at the outside of letter. recognizing your husband’s handwriting.

My Alys

Your hands shake as you open the letter. Your vision gets blurred with tears as certain words and phrases stand out. Miss you, need to see you, miserable at King’s Landing, love you. Your squeeze your eyes shut when you see words mistake, baby, and your name in the same sentence.

“Those pesky ravens, sometimes they do the maddest things,” Larys whispers softly. “My princess, the woman the letter is for is an… old friend of mine. If you need me to keep an eye on this or even take care of anything, just let me know. I am always here.”

You look at him as he gets up to leave, lip trembling. Your eyes move stare at the fire in front of you. Fire, blood, and dragons have all consumed your life now.

Is this why you don’t under the understand the obsession with dragons. You hate the ludicrous insistence that you can control them. That if you give them enough love and patience that they will need you the way you need them. Good behavior has gotten you nothing. Doing right by the dragons in your life has gotten you nowhere. Aemond is not yours despite the vows you took, or sacrifices you’ve made for him. The same way your children will never be yours despite the pain you take to have them.

You’ve been burned by the very dragon that’s supposed to protect you.

“Lord Strong,” you blurt before he gets to the door. He turns to you expectedly. “There is something you can do for me actually.”

[inkskinned]

this is sort of pathetic, but when you were younger, you were sort of puzzled by the cartoon representations of fathers: how a kid would be outside with a mitt, waiting to play catch.

it's not that your father never played catch with you, but you also didn't like when he did. something about a hard ball coming quickly towards your face doesn't seem exciting. not that you'd ever say you don't trust him. you trust him, right?

it's not like he never tried to teach you anything. or never tried to parent. on rare days, a strange person would walk in your father's skin. bright, happy, magnificent. this version of your father was so cheerful and charismatic that you would do anything to keep him. and this is the version of your father that would laugh and gently coax you try again. this is the version of your father that would break down the small elements of a problem and point them out so you have an easier time with them.

as a kid, those days happened more often. but somewhere around 11, you started being too much of a person, and he was often cross about it. when he'd try to sit you down to learn something, you spent the whole time with your shoulders around your ears, nervous, uncertain. terrified because you didn't immediately understand how to navigate something. worried you will run out of his goodwill and then you will have the Other Father back, and you will have ruined a good day for your entire family. something about you being visibly afraid - it just made him angry. he would accuse you of not wanting to learn and storm away.

on tv, it's not like there's a lot of versions of men-who-are-mostly-fathers. they can be good dads, but usually their stories are not told in the household. so it's normal that your father is there, but he's never around. you know he was in the house, somewhere, it's just not that you guys ever... "hung out". he just seemed to get kind of bored of you, annoyed you weren't made in his perfect image. frustrated with how much energy it took to raise a kid. over time, you kind of adopt a bittersweet band around your throat - he knows nothing about me. he says at least i never abandoned my family.

and it's technically - technically - true. he was there for you. sometimes he even made an effort and made it to the big moments; the graduations and the dance recitals. he grins and tells everyone that he taught you. it almost erases the days in between, where he complains because you need a ride to school. the weeks that go by where he doesn't actually ever speak to you. the times you say i am struggling and he says figure it out on your own. i can't help you.

and that's fine! that's all fine. you can call him if you are having a problem with your car. or if you need a ride to the hospital. he loves playing hero, he just doesn't like the actual work that comes with being a father. and you've kind of made your peace with that; because you had to, because you don't want to live your life like he does; the whole world at a managed distance, a little rotating and controlled orb he can witness and take credit for but never truly love.

as an adult, you are rewatching some dumb cartoon - and again, the child standing in the rain, with a mitt, waiting for their father to come play catch. as an adult, there's this strange creeping dread - this little thing? this little thing, and their dad can't even show up for that? oh god, holyshit, it's not about the mitt, is it. oh god, holyshit, your father spent most of your life leaving you hanging.

[notyourmajesty]

Head empty no thoughts save for one: Henry's self-soothing shoulder dips

So a lot of people did point out certain self-soothing gestures Henry does when he's very stressed or panic mode...or sometimes even as a bit of a habit that keeps him grounded. Like fiddling with his ring or tilting his head to a side.

On my last few rewatches I've also started to think that Henry also has a tendency to fold in on himself when he's feeling overwhelmed. I've only noticed it in two scenes so far, and I've been making a connection since.

The first time I noticed it was in the lake/almost-confession scene, where Alex speaks about a possible future unaware that the conversation is sending Henry into a panic. As soon as Alex tells him about the rope in his chest that keeps pulling him close to Henry, we see his shoulders move a little closer together, utter devastation written all over his face (I don't know whether this gif accurately shows that exact moment, but if it doesn't, here's the scene).

I feel like this is something he does as a self-soothing gesture. Something he does when he is aware he is getting into panic mode and needs to feel safe without anyone else noticing. Like he can feel the walls closing in on him, the exact thing he feared ("I can't afford for you to fall in love with me") this close to becoming a reality. His most fervent dream and his deepest nightmare all rolled in one.

So he does what he can do before Alex speaks that terrifying truth into existence. He folds in on himself, and jumps.

I noticed a similar version of this action in the scene after the V&A dance, when Henry wakes up in Alex's arms the next morning. The context and the intent here, though, is very different. Often, for me, the most striking thing was always Alex's tight grip on Henry's wrist, reflecting both his fear of abandonment and the heartbreak he experienced when Henry left. And of course, Henry's little smile when he wakes up and remembers.

But on the rewatches I noticed that familiar little shoulder-dip action again, and this time the meaning of that gesture seemed to be that he DID feel safe. That Alex's presence, and touch, makes him feel safe. That Alex's arm around him was a reassurance he didn't expect to gain, that this is a moment that is all his to savour. He finds comfort in that embrace, and if anything that little shoulder-gesture will only pull Alex's arm closer to him.

Edit: @hopelessromanticlittleshit and @tell-a-tale also pointed out a scene of Henry's during Alex's official White House statement about the leaks, when he (and Shaan on his behalf) are being silenced by the "wrinkled old white man" representing Buckingham Palace.

There is some shoulder action here too - again, in a different way and with a different context. In the other two scenes the gesture signifies either an attempt to protect himself or to an expression that he feels reassured and safe. Here his shoulders slump and his head tilts slightly- as a sign of utter defeat. Here he recognises the powerlessness of his position; he isn't even permitted a voice in a situation that has affected him. The head tilt here is a signifier of how disconnected he feels from this entire conversation.

This is a man who feels lost...and who feels he has lost a battle he's been fighting his whole life. (GOSH do I have things to say about Henry's Kensington sequences during Alex's speech!!!)

This also makes me think of the boys' relationship with touch. I've always felt like...of the two, Alex is the more obviously tactile one. It shines through every scene he has with every character. He snuggles with his mother after coming out to her. Nora and Alex sit close together in gestures of casual platonic intimacy. Even with Zahra, his "mean friend" you have that moment when a grateful Alex says "I could kiss you!" and her immediate response is "touch me and die". Even with the young women at the New Year party, he is comfortable with their touches, accepting kisses from them in the joy and exuberance of ringing in a new year.

With Henry, even at the height of his resentment, Alex touches his shoulder with his cake covered hand, bridges the gap between them during the interviews quicker, grabs his hand over a box of Cornettos. He's the one who wants to talk after Henry's kissed him and he's the one who makes the first move. Touch is important to Alex. It's how he seeks comfort, it's also how he seeks to soothe his loved ones.

Henry on the other hyperfocuses on the environment they're in, the people around them. Forever under the pressure of being gawked at, having his picture taken, his privacy never really his. The only people we see him close to are Percy and Bea - and in the one scene that Henry and Bea have together their touches on either others hands and arms are tentative, delicate. Careful.

(In a lot of ways Alex breaks through this barrier early on even as someone Henry barely talks to - the cakegate scene is FULL of little touches and pokes and jabs the two exchange, even though they're built up in the story as being antagonistic to each other at this point)

Hell, the first time Henry allows himself to be reckless and actually kiss Alex the way he has so desperately wanted to for years, he beats himself up over it, and punishes himself by avoiding any contact with Alex.

The few times Alex approaches to touch him without a second thought, Henry quickly, almost remorsefully, alerts Alex of their surroundings. But in the privacy of their rooms, he touches Alex with a certain desperation, a certain need to grab hold of the few moments that will belong only to them.

Alex is generous with his touch. Henry hoards the few moments of touch he gets like a priceless unexpected treasure that he has no hope of ever getting a second time.

I swear I intended this gd post to be about Henry's shoulder-dips only but somehow it turned into a different beast altogether 🤧

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

Hiii, this is my first time requesting a Miguel fic😭😭😭 nervous

so like hurt/comfort where spider-woman reader was a mother and losing her child (preferably a daughter) was one of her cannon events.

Shes watching old videos on her phone/laptop where her kids kind of like, standing on her feet and they're dancing together to my love mine all mine by mistki (her new album destroyed me) and Miguel walks in and just watches.

Miguel gets caught staring at the videos but instead of telling him to leave she asks him to stay because she knows hes been through something similar. They're just watching old videos of her kid and then they eventually move onto talking about Gabi too.

im a sucker for friends/coworkers to lovers so maybe add a little lovey dovey smut at the end if you want <333

rlly sorry if this is a bit much i just had to get this out of my smooth little brain😭😭😭

hii!! AAA I love it!! but really sorry, no smut in this one :(( I had too many ideas but I had a total brain fart writing this. thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌

—

OF THE PAST

miguel o’hara x spider-woman!reader

word count: 550

warnings: mentions of death, grief etc

✧.┊ MASTERLIST

Grief and loss aren't uncommon emotions for a Spider-Person. They were feelings all Spiders experienced at one point- all of you connected by a singular canonical death. 

For many others, their event was the death of Uncle Ben, but not you. Yours was your daughter- your little love who 'mistakenly' got caught in the crossfire.

Not many Spiders could resonate with the grief of losing a child, nor could one imagine the weight of it. It's a feeling that can truly be understood by those who have experienced the same thing, by someone who had also lost a child. 

There was only one who could comprehend your grief, Miguel.

You'd often find yourself rewatching old family tapes of you and your daughter, replaying the clips over and over as if the memories weren't painful enough. 

You'd essentially watch your life back, looking over videos and pictures of you and your little girl- times when you baked cupcakes, or had secret picnics in the backyard. Beautiful moments where you danced in the living room, her tiny feet balanced on yours as you held her hands, spinning her around to the music. 

When you watched it back, you couldn't recognise yourself. The woman in the videos isn't here anymore. She was long gone, and you missed her. 

-

You were still at HQ, not wanting to return to an empty home, so you stayed, sitting in the vacant cafeteria as you stared aimlessly at your phone, honing in on the tiny writing at the top of the screen, '1 year ago today.'

"You can sit down," you whisper to the presence behind -Miguel- who has been lurking for the past few minutes.

"What gave it away?" he quietly asks, pulling out a chair next to you.

"Your heart," you sadly smile at him and turn your focus back to your phone. 

The subject of child loss is always incredibly tricky, never knowing what to say or constantly worrying if you said the wrong thing. It's hard to gauge what does more harm to the parent, and though Miguel is dealing with a similar situation, he still found himself at a loss. 

"I do that too," he finally speaks, nodding to your hand. "It feels good for a bit, then it just..." 

"Hurts some more," you finish his sentence, weakly chuckling.

"Yeah," he nods, twisting around in his chair to face you. "Can I see?"

You hum, lightly nodding as you press her photo album, turning it so Miguel could see. 

You swipe through with tears prickled in your eyes, looming in the water line as you smile at the screen. 

"This one," you speak up, clearing your throat. "She— uh, she got into my makeup bag," you laugh, recalling the memory. "And she— erm, she stained her face for a few days. Looked like a panda for a while."

Miguel chuckles, fully immersed in your story. "Gabi did that, too. But she," his smile widens, shaking his head. "Found high heels and dresses." 

"Mine too," you snicker, showing him the picture of your daughter playing adult dress up. 

You both stay like that for a while, sharing stories and memories of your daughters, recalling comical events to lighten the atmosphere. The pair of you telling tales in a way that connects you.

— — — — — — — — — — ☆ — — — — — — — — — —

artwork by shuploc

[wormswurld]

rewatched saltburn for the 5th time today so here are my rewatch thoughts! 🌟

- opening shot ollie is smoking a cigarette meaning that after all these years of felix being dead he still holds onto the habit felix bestowed upon him: smoking. (there will always be traces of felix catton throughout ollie’s life…)

- ollie saying how exhausted felix was cuz of how often he was chased and adored by ppl is literally just him projecting & being annoyed that felix wasn’t his from the beginning

- “but was i “in love” with him?” yes. yes you were. yes you are. yes.

- ollie looking like such a fucking nerd when arriving at oxford. like boy if you don’t take THAT DAMN SCARF OFF i swear to god

- ollie looks so good with glasses ughhhhhhh

- the way ollie says “meryside” 🤤

- i will never get over farleigh’s voice like it’s so perfect

- as much as i hate michael gavey i will always quote his “NFI me and you…not fucking invited” line

- ollie is rizzing the shit out of felix with his blue eyes during the bike scene and i’ll always respect him for that

- the way farleigh says “jägerbombs!” is so satisfying

- i love ollie’s slutty little chain he wears

- felix amica. felix amica. felix amica. felix amica. felix amica. felix amica.

- ollie & felix look so happy dancing together 😭

- felix having his hand on ollie’s thigh as he does eenie meanie makes my brain short circuit

- “was it awful?” my god felix really is like elspeth

- this modern love playing as ollie finds felix at the pub surrounded by all his friends and the lyrics that play are “what are you holding out for? what’s always in the way?” UGH.

- felix being the first person ollie sees when he comes out of the exams 😭😭😭

- felix could have so kissed ollie during the bridge confession scene

- duncan scaring the shit out of ollie when he first arrives at saltburn makes me laugh so much i love him

- the way the sunlight accentuates felix’s torso through his linen shirt makes my head spin

- felix definitely made ollie & him share a bathroom on purpose

- “darling you’re kind about everyone” NO HE IS NOT. FELIX IS NOT KIND.

- pamela’s jewelry is to die for

- “so i hope you didn’t pack anything scandalous” DO YOU WANT HIM TO FELIX?????

- ollie giving venetia his blanket under the guise of “oh you must be cold here’s this” is so funny because i know he did that on purpose due to him knowing how venetia feels about him

- i love how emerald made ollie having a big dick canon lmao

- all of them watching the ring is so cute

- ollie sleeping as him and felix lounge by the pool together 😭

- ollie eye fucking felix as he sucks on an ice pop is so real

- LOOOVE farleigh’s “dump him” shirt

- felix giggling as he has ollie on his knees drinking wine is so cute

- the way ollie inhales shakily as he watches felix get off is so 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

- i absolutely love how eager ollie is when he licks felix’s cum from the drain like ohhhhhhhhhh…..

- also ollie softly moaning as he does it my god sedate me

- i will never get over how ollie practically puts his whole fist in venetia’s mouth + smears the blood all over her mouth and chest

- farleigh playing fuck, chuck, or marry with the kings is literally just an opportunity for him to tell oliver he would fuck him + to also read ollie as an insecure parasite that only lives for getting what he wants & obviously ollie picks up on it

- ollie crying after felix scolds him about lying is so sad my god that boy was heartbroken

- farleigh telling ollie “try harder next time baby” is so hot FUCK

- the transition from ollie blowing out his candles to the song lonliness is probably one of the best transitions in media ever

- “i just need you to understand how much i fucking love you” MY HEART IS BREAKING.

- felix would so have kissed ollie in the maze if he wasn’t shoved away

- elspeth’s sob when she finds felix dead is one of the most earth shattering things i’ve ever heard especially accompanied with the swell of the orchestra it is absolutely gut wrenching

- the grave scene is so beautifully shot it makes me cry poor ollie just wanted to be close to his felix one more time

- seeing ollie dance naked around the house is just so freeing and !!!!!!

thats all my silly little commentary, thank you for reading my word vomit 🤗

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

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

Priscilla Lane (Arsenic and Old Lace, Saboteur, The Roaring Twenties)— I see Priscilla Lane in Arsenic and Old Lace every year during my Halloween rewatch, and I always love watching her. She had a rubber-face for comedy, while still looking adorable no matter what funny face she’s making. She seems to have had a slightly fuller mouth than was the thin-lipped vogue at the time, and every time she pouts at her forgetful new husband, she looks so gosh-darn kissable that you understand completely why Cary Grant is so wild to get her on the train to Niagra for crazy honeymoon sex. No wonder this movie nearly got Hayes coded for the newlyweds being too hot for each other.

This is round 2 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut]

Joan Crawford:

I just love women that are very mean.

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

The classic matronly beauty with amazing eyebrows

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

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

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

Priscilla Lane:

[august-diehl]

Viserys resented Alicent

I was rewatching episode 3 Second of his name and something actually drew my attention.

It was Aegon's second birthday, which is a huge deal because that meant that he was healthy and was less likely to die, basically meaning that he was safe.

We knew that Rhaenyra was annoyed or even jealous of her two-year-old half-brother, so it was a good choice of the writers to showcase that specifically. Aegon could be considered the heir now, he was "out of the woods" one can say. Which was displayed over and over mainly by the Lannisters, the Lords were expecting Viserys to acknowledge Aegon as his heir because he finally had a male heir.

No one was willing to talk about it because death was still very likely when it came to babies in the Middle Ages, the Realm was basically holding their breath because Aegon was the first male in the Targaryen family since Daemon.

Now when it comes to Alicent and Aemma, there is a clear difference: Alicent could give Viserys what Aemma couldn't, a healthy son. Make no mistake, Viserys is not the "girl dad" that many people want to paint him as he's a man, a King and he wanted a son, this is why he butchered Aemma to get one.

We can see that Viserys was more than proud about having Aegon, he was showing him off, showering Aegon with affection in front of the whole realm. He was finally a man, finally a King in his mind and in the mind of the realm, and for the first time, he had the upper hand on his brother, which I'm assuming didn't happen often, if ever.

We can see that Viserys was in doubt to have Rhaenyra as his heir, he said so himself. But with everyone pestering him, he made up his mind that absolutely nothing would change his mind for the rest of his life.

Viserys started to see that Alicent and Aegon as not his family, only Rhaenyra and Daemon were. The answer usually is, Rhaenyra comes from the woman he loved and I do not believe that for a second, Viserys never loved Aemma. He allowed her to die without knowing what was going on and made the decision for her to get what he wanted.

But Aemma is dead now, he blames himself as he should. The fact that his first wife was dead, meant that she was going to be held on this pedestal for the rest of his life, Aemma never did anything wrong in Viserys' eyes.

Now we need to understand that in the Middle Ages, women were blamed for men not having a son. Viserys would be no different, no matter how the show tried to paint him in a good light.

He saw the girl who gave him a son and was pregnant with the next, and Alicent was healthy enough to travel for god knows how long at the end of her pregnancy. So Viserys asked himself, why couldn't Aemma do that? Why couldn't Aemma give me a son on our first try? That would get Viserys to resent Aemma, she failed her duty as she said to him in episode 1.

Viserys couldn't have that, Aemma's "failure" would smear the perfect image he carefully made in his mind. Then he focused this rage towards Alicent, the woman who did nothing but her duty.

Viserys started to rationalise that Alicent wasn't family or the children coming from him through her. All of his rage and hurt were being directed towards Alicent and her children and he started to overcompensate with Rhaenyra by allowing her to do whatever she wanted with no consequences.

In what he believed was love, he doomed his favoured child and his House simply because he couldn't reconcile the fact that he killed his first wife for what his second wife gave him. Alicent and her children paid the price for what Viserys did, which is the theme of the Dance, the decisions of one horrible person doomed his family and the realm.

[lightning-and-dragons]

Here's a random thought I had while rewatching Ninjago.

What if Jay, instead of being adopted by the Walkers, was adopted by Dr. Julien? Just imagine all of the fluff and angst that could come from it.

Edit as of May 26, 2024: Now on A03!

Jay could've learned all of his building skills from Dr. Julien, and when it came time to build Zane, Jay helped out a bit. There are bits of Jay's mechanics in Zane, little pieces that only Jay created, so that there was always a part of him with Zane.

When Zane was activated, much like waking up, he and Jay hung out together ever second of every day. They grew up together, learning all there was to learn side by side. Jay never thought that Zane was odd, and he knew that Zane was his brother, despite being made of metal.

Zane always thought as Jay as his older brother, because he was. Jay loudly taught Zane all that Dr. Julien didn't, even convincing Zane to learn how to dance and sing. He was a constant in Zane's life, one that he was thankful for.

Jay grew to be a joy that Zane still struggled to understand, because how can someone be so happy all of the time? And Zane began to be a steady presence in Jay's life when his nightmares became too vivid, rubbing his back comfortingly every time Jay woke up sobbing.

They ate every meal together, trying new recipes as often as they could. Dr. Julien taught Zane how to cook, Jay sitting back and tasting as they went. They were a family, made up of broken pieces of both hard pasts and machine parts, but they were as flesh and blood.

And Dr. Julien mourned the day that he would have to say goodbye to the both of them. He knew who they were both meant to become. He knew what he had to do.

Jay cried when he learned that Dr. Julien had to hide away, and didn't eat for days when he learned that Zane would get his memory wiped. He was going to lose his father and his brother, and despite Dr. Julien's assurances that he wouldn't truly loose Zane, Jay knew that what they had would never return. Not when all of Zane's memories were gone. There relationship would never be the same.

Zane would forget all that they had done together, all of the games of tag in the snowy forest, all of the inside jokes the two had been collecting, even the stories Dr. Julien would tell them every night.

Zane didn't understand why Jay was sad, and was even more confused when Jay accepted a job at a junkyard, more than two day's travel away. He didn't understand why Jay was crying when he wrapped Zane in a hug, telling him that he was the best brother he could ever have. He didn't understand that when Jay said goodbye, he meant it.

--------------------------------------------------

Zane becomes a ninja, being led up the steps to the Monastery by Master Wu, and Jay is waiting for him. At the sight of his brother, one he hadn't seen for years, a flood of joy filles his heart, causing a bright smile on his face. All he wants to do is run up to Zane, wrap him in a big hug, and tell him all of the adventures he's had. But before he can, Zane gives him a smile, and introduces himself, his eyes friendly, yet giving no spark of recognition, no joy at seeing his brother again.

"Hello. I am Zane."

Zane didn't recognize him. He didn't know Jay. He didn't recognize his own brother.

With a heavy heart, Jay knows that the plan worked. His father was gone, and Zane forgot everything. And now, for everything to go as Dr. Julian wished it, Jay had to pretend that he didn't know Zane. He had to pretend that Zane was a human. That Jay hadn't helped build him. That they hadn't grown up together. That Jay wasn't his brother long before they were ninja.

So he rebuilds their relationship from the ground up, starting with his name.

"I'm Jay! It's great to meet you!"

--------------------------------------

Zane grows to see Jay as a little brother, and gladly lets Jay taste the food he makes, ignoring the sad look in Jay's eyes when he does so. He learns that Jay loves to invent, that he's especially fond of cold weather despite him being the Master of Lightning, and enjoys reading books before resting for the night. Jay tries to read to Zane, but Zane is more confused by the practice, and Jay soon stops, his voice soft as he says goodnight.

Jay learns to talk to Zane like they are just meeting, pushing away the inside jokes they once shared, and tried to make new ones. He tastes Zane's cooking, trains beside him, and plays videogames with him. It's good, it's nice, but it's not the same. He still misses everything. He still misses his brother. Every part of him wants flip that memory switch, make Zane remember, but he couldn't. He couldn't do that to Zane or his father.

Zane was happy. Dr. Julien was safe. And that was all that mattered.

--------------------------------------

Zane does eventually learn he's a robot, back in Jay's childhood workshop, in the woods that they both had called home. Jay has to pretend that he didn't know, and acts shocked around the others. But Jay never counted on Zane finding the memory switch so soon, and flipping it.

Zane remembers. After all of those years, he remembers.

As soon as Jay saw Zane's eyes, right after he defeated the Treehorns, he saw a recognition that he hadn't seen in years, one that reminded him of late nights talking, making pillow forts, drawing on blueprints while singing songs that they made up as they sang.

Jay expected Zane to be mad. He no doubt wondered why Jay didn't tell him the truth, why Jay hid away, pretending to be a stranger. Why Jay had lied for so long. And he would be angry with him, wouldn't he? For lying about everything they were? Everything Zane himself was?

Jay prepared for the worst.

But Zane pulled Jay into a hug, crushing him in his comforting grip, letting Jay rest his head on his shoulder, rubbing his back steadily like he did when they were young. Jay began to cry, sobbing, shaking in Zane's arms, and Zane only held him tighter.

"Jay! I remember! You're...you're my brother. My brother!"

Jay nodded, unwilling to let go, unable to speak. Zane didn't let go.

And Zane would never let go again.

[onlybeeewrites]

If you decide to write for Bridgerton, can you write something for Benedict? Maybe like friends to lovers or something x

The Muse

Requested: By anon

Warnings: nothing just pining

Painting: Benedict Bridgerton x Fem!reader

Request: If you decide to write for Bridgerton, can you write something for Benedict? Maybe friends to lovers or something

Authors Note: I beg for forgiveness that it has taken me so long to get to this. I had insane writers block, then university hit like a truck and had to put writing on hold. But I have returned and I loved this request. I am currently rewatching Brigderton after watching Queen Charlotte so I hope this to your liking. So sorry again, love <3

—————————————————————————————

You had grow up beside the Bridgerton Household your entire life—to the estate beside theirs at least. Your father’s had been quite good friends, and as your parents began with their families the relationship between the two had grown. This has allowed you to have direct access to the household since you could even remember. Your were at the young age of four and twenty, just a few years older than the eldest Bridgerton daughter, but still a few years younger than the second eldest Bridgerton who also just so happened to be your closest companion.

You remembered the first time you had met the boy, or at least remembered meeting him. You were but about six years of age, and Benedict was ten. Your mother had dragged you over to the house as she more often did to have tea with the Viscountess Bridgerton as they did more often than not. It was in their tea room where you were interacting with Colin when Benedict had come in rather excitedly to show his mother a drawing he had made. You could remember her cooing her second eldest son, praising his rather interesting art piece. Curiously you had glanced over, interested with all the paint colors and such. Benedict had noticed your curiosity and offered for you to have a closer look. From then on whenever you had come over you had eagerly awaited to see what Benedict had created next.

This little routine continued as you all got older. Of course after the passing of their Father, there was more comfort and reassurance whenever you had visited. Though, even in a time of such great sorrow, Benedict had portrayed that emotion within his paintings and drawings. You had been the one to support him and aid him in any such way possible.

As time continued, the two of your had grown closer. Of course you had grown closer with all the Bridgerton siblings, Benedict was the one you were closest with. The one you could also scope out at balls if you needed to escape another dreadfully boring dance partner, or an attempted suitor that was twice your age. Of course your father was there to ensure nothing of the sort would occur, but there would be times where Benedict was simply closer and much better at conversation.

Often Lady Whistledown commented on the you both, sometimes a bit too often. There would be whispers about you both, how often you dance with each other at balls or are seen giggling a bit tipsy with each other in the corners. Most of the time it had not bother you—when you were younger at least. Though as you blossomed and grew into yourself, you also were able to recognize your feelings. You believed it was around ten and six when you had realized you were doomed. That you had fallen completely in love with Benedict. It was not something you liked to think about nor dwell on for too long. Why would he, a Bridgerton, a most handsome, talented, funny, charming man like himself even think about courting you?

It was not that you felt like you were unattractive in some sort of way, you were rather pretty. But it was the fact that you were best friends with Benedict that caused you to think this way. There was a chance of him not returning those feelings. There was a chance that he would laugh in your face assuming it was a joke. There was a chance of him scoffing in your face and cutting you and your friendship off completely.

There was no chance that you would even consider taking that risk—no matter how often Daphne or hell, even Elouise would reassure you that he had returned those feelings to you.

Though one afternoon, you sat with him in the Bridgerton’s drawing room. You had been having some tea that Rose had gotten for you while Benedict drew. He drew with his charcoaled that made his long fingers turning an odd shade of black within his drawing pad. You had always admired the way he looked to serious when he drew. His eyebrows furrowed, causing wrinkles to cover his forehead. He also had this habit of tilting his head; you assumed it was to get a different angle on whatever his latest creations was. But your most favorite thing was when he would be stuck on something. Maybe it was because he could not draw it correctly, or the art was not coming out the way he wanted it to. But once he figures it out, or it comes out the way that he had wanted and the ways his eyes lit up with pride and eureka was your absolute favorite.

“what is it you are drawing today?” You asked, lifting the fragile porcelain to your lips as you take a small sip of the warm tea. Your eyes flicker from your cup to the Bridgerton across from you. And just in time too because was already looking at you. His body tensed slightly before he attempted to play it off.

“Nothing you must worry your head about,” he said in a teasing tone, as he most often did. But he was just trying to play it off when in reality it was you. He was drawing you, in your beautiful soft green dress, your hair done up into a neat braid to keep from your beautiful face. You looked stunning and he wanted to capture it like he had done many time before.

It was always you that he drew, especially when you plagued his thoughts in the late. Hours. Oh if you only knew that you were his muse. The very figure and image of you filled pages and pages of his work. Two of the things he loves most wrapped into one. But what if you were to find out? You would never return and that would break his heart. He was so in love with you it ached to not be able to hold you, kiss you when he wanted. He felt this especially at balls and suitors would come up to your constantly, it made his blood boil. But he had hoped he kept it well hidden. Well, enough to keep it from you. His family on the other hand seemed to know or notice it for quite sometime. According to his mother, both of your mother’s knew of it. Everyone seem to know. Everyone but you.

Too busy in his thoughts, he did not feel the dip in the sofa until it was too late. You had seated yourself right next to him with a small huff as you tried to peak at this new creation before he was able to hide it. But he managed, which caused you to pout slightly. Of those lips…he wanted nothing more to cup your face and kiss you right then and there.

“Benedict. You always show me your drawings,” you had insisted, which just caused the other to shake his head.

“Nonsense. There are plenty of work that you have not seen. Besides it is no good anyways, there is no point in showing it off if it is no good.” He said, giving his best friend a look. This only made you want to see more. “you always saw your work is no good and it is always beautiful. Let me see, please?” You pleaded as you took hold of a part of his drawing pad. There was some back and forth, some ‘no’s’ and ‘oh please’ as you both struggled to take proper hold of the pad.

Eventually his hands slipped and lost its grip on the pad, landing it right into your smaller grasp. “ha! I have got it now. Now, let us see what you have been working so hard on,” you tease before looking at the drawing Benedict had been working so hard on. It was a lady, a rather beautiful one. But the longer you looked, the more you realized that this lady in the charcoal had the same features as you. the same face shape, body type, hair—even the little scar that was right on the bridge of your nose that you had gotten as a child. And you face began to redden as you slowly looked towards Benedict. “Are…is this of me?” You ask in wonder, amazement and without a single sound of disgust or hated—this reassures Benedict a bit more at least.

He nods and before he could utter another word, you flip through pages; more drawings of you. “You make me look beautiful..” you say in wonder and this causes Benedict to furrow his eyebrows once more but not in concentration but confusion.

“Because you are beautiful. I draw what I see and what I see from you is…” he stopped himself from speaking another word, too afraid to come across as too forward. He took a breath, figuring now is a better time than ever. The Bridgerton boy took the drawing pad from your hands and placed it next to him before giving you his full attention. Your face is covered with blush, flustered from this whole thing.

“I suppose now I must explain myself before it comes across strangely. But I do draw you. More times than not because you plague my every waking moment, you have since we were children. You have captured my heart from years and you have refused to return it to me. My dearest friend…..my feelings for you grow into one where I want you by my side forever, not just in my drawings. You are my muse for everything I do and I cannot bear it being another nor you being with anyone else..” he said, “So I suppose-“

You cut him off by leaning forward and giving him a kiss. Your soft ones pressed against his own. It was bold and improper. But his words were moving and your heart would not stop its fluttering. So you had kissed him, hoping no one would see. The kiss was everything you both had imagined it would be like and more.

So once you had pulled away to his surprised but smug reaction, you simply nodded, “Of course, it would be delighted to court you, my dearest. I have been waiting so long for this moment.” You say, still almost not believing that your love was also your best friend.

“I suppose we both were a bit too blind and afraid to admit it, hm?” He chuckled, taking your hands in his, getting a bit of the charcoal onto your hands. You giggle and nod,

“Yes I suppose so. But I also would love to see these other drawings of me that you have mentioned,” you teased him, now making it his turn to blush as he realized what he had admitted.

“Perhaps another time…?” He asked hopefully and you grin mischievously, almost impishly.

“Or perhaps we can give you something else to draw,” you said suggestively continuing to tease him about such thing.

“Oh I quite like the sound of that,” Benedict grinned as he pulled you in for another quick kiss. Perhaps it was a good thing you had seen the drawings after all.

[motorway-south]

something thematic i noticed in a rewatch of season 1 of hotd is how often characters point out the unbroken peace of jaehaerys's reign, and how it makes the dance of the dragons an effort to prove the value of every participant in it, not just rhaenyra or aegon.

in just the first few episodes, rhaenys makes an offhand comment about the tourney knights being green and none of them seeing real war. the unbroken peace has left a feudal system with no warriors. in the next episode, rhaenyra picks cole specifically because he has seen battle in the marches, and this acceptamnce for being a warrior is intrinsically tied with rhaenyra's sexual desire for him.

and as recently as s2, we have seen rhaenyra's boring unnamed advisor (ik he has a name okay) assert that rhaenyra is no warrior, then she replies that he isnt either, just posturing as one. a man who kills and enacts violence is a desirable man, enough so that peaceful men posture as them. the dance of the dragons wasn't just inevitable for targaryen reasons, but because the gender roles of this society demand blood sacrifice when they've gone too long without it

[thetopichot]

•°☆ Monarch × Royal Guard ☆°•

Finishing up Volume I for my Ship Dynamics & I really wanted to write about this one because I think it's something I don't really see often, but I love it so much when I do.

"Protecting you is my honor & duty, your majesty." "Is that the only reason you do it?" "Isn't that reason enough?"

"Your Grace! Please be careful!"

"You know when we first met, you weren't always this serious." "You weren't crowned as the monarch of the kingdom yet & I wasn't head of the royal guard. We were kids, my graceful sunrise."

"What if someone were to find us like this?" "They don't matter, love. Just focus on me."

"May I have this dance?"

Slow dancing in the royal courtyard when the moon is at its brightest.

Kissing in private‼️‼️

Doing chaotic shit but your partner is trying to keep you safe because you're their partner & also the heir to the throne.

Hiding from the guards or the royal family.

Fuck it. Running away together to live peacefully & to escape the arranged marriage.

☆ミ Author's Notes Underneath 👇 ☆ミ

🩷 - I recently rewatched Epic & I kept thinking about this ship dynamic. This is something I almost never really see, in my opinion, but I do enjoy a forbidden romance like this one. I also never realized that fucking Josh Hutcherson was in that movie??? I knew Beyoncé was in it as the queen but fucking Josh Hutcherson??? Life is crazy, man.