her love is something else

anonymous asked:

I don't think most people who disagree with black Hermione are racist. I am not a fan of black Hermione either and I am most definitely not racist. If I was, I wouldn't have married a black man. My issue with it is we have had years and years of reading the books and envisioning these beautiful characters the way we did, and it does come as quite a shock to see who we've envisioned and loved all these years not who we envisioned since our ideas of them have been in our heads for so long.

Okay i’m gonna reply to this because we have too many confessions like this already anyway and they’re getting on my nerves.

the things that irk me the most with this type, is that 

1. they always start with ‘im definitely not racist’ and i’m like, if you have to do that, clarify that you’re not racist, you KNOW you shouldn’t be saying whatever you’re about to say. But on top of that, they follow up with some reason as to WHY they’re not racist, as if that’s going to make their statement less racist and more credible? it doesn’t.

2. I’m so happy you envisioned hermione for years and years as white and got to see her cast as such in the movies and got her that way in all the merch etc. etc. but guess what, and this is gonna blow your mind right now I hope youre sitting down,

a lot of people didnt

for years and years millions of people that are not you envisioned her as black or indian or mixed or something else and loved her that way. because everyone is different, not to mention a lot of people tend to self insert when they read and there are a hell of a lot of non white readers out there. And they’ve gotten to see THEIR version, thats been in THEIR heads for years absolutely 0%. Where as you’ve gotten loads. 

So when you write crap like “it comes as quite a shock to see MY PERSONAL INTERPRETATION as something different.” it is 100% showing that you haven’t thought outside your bubble. not even a little bit.

how about all those people who are seeing THEIR personal interpretation of hermione for the first time? I mean, you got plenty of time with yours, why are you begrudging them theirs? 

and to be frank, i don’t like your word choices either. “envisioning these beautiful characters // and loved all these years” like they can’t be beautiful and loved if they’re not white?  

I 100% do not understand peoples issues with non white characters. No one is asking you to change whats in your head, jeez 

-massive eyeroll-  

What if, when Petunia Dursley found a little boy on her front doorstep, she took him in? Not into the cupboard under the stairs, not into a twisted childhood of tarnished worth and neglect–what if she took him in?

Petunia was jealous, selfish and vicious. We will not pretend she wasn’t. She looked at that boy on her doorstep and thought about her Dudders, barely a month older than this boy. She looked at his eyes and her stomach turned over and over. (Severus Snape saved Harry’s life for his eyes. Let’s have Petunia save it despite them).

Let’s tell a story where Petunia Dursley found a baby boy on her doorstep and hated his eyes–she hated them. She took him in and fed him and changed him and got him his shots, and she hated his eyes up until the day she looked at the boy and saw her nephew, not her sister’s shadow. When Harry was two and Vernon Dursley bought Dudley a toy car and Harry a fast food meal with a toy with parts he could choke on Petunia packed her things and got a divorce.

Harry grew up small and skinny, with knobbly knees and the unruly hair he got from his father. He got cornered behind the dumpsters and in the restrooms, got blood on the jumpers Petunia had found, half-price, at the hand-me-down store. He was still chosen last for sports. But Dudley got blood on his sweaters, too, the ones Petunia had found at the hand-me-down store, half price, because that was all a single mother working two secretary jobs could afford for her two boys, even with Vernon’s grudging child support.

They beat Harry for being small and they laughed at Dudley for being big, and slow, and dumb. Students jeered at him and teachers called Dudley out in class, smirked over his backwards letters.

Harry helped him with his homework, snapped out razored wit in classrooms when bullies decided to make Dudley the butt of anything; Harry cornered Dudley in their tiny cramped kitchen and called him smart, and clever, and ‘better ‘n all those jerks anyway’ on the days Dudley believed it least.

Dudley walked Harry to school and back, to his advanced classes and past the dumpsters, and grinned, big and slow and not dumb at all, at anyone who tried to mess with them.

But was that how Petunia got the news? Her husband complained about owls and staring cats all day long and in the morning Petunia found a little tyke on her doorsep. This was how the wizarding world chose to give the awful news to Lily Potter’s big sister: a letter, tucked in beside a baby boy with her sister’s eyes.

There were no Potters left. Petunia was the one who had to arrange the funeral. She had them both buried in Godric’s Hollow. Lily had chosen her world and Petunia wouldn’t steal her from it, not even in death. The wizarding world had gotten her sister killed; they could stand in that cold little wizard town and mourn by the old stone.

(Petunia would curl up with a big mug of hot tea and a little bit of vodka, when her boys were safely asleep, and toast her sister’s vanished ghost. Her nephew called her ‘Tune’ not 'Tuney,’ and it only broke her heart some days.

Before Harry was even three, she would look at his green eyes tracking a flight of geese or blinking mischieviously back at her and she would not think 'you have your mother’s eyes.’

A wise old man had left a little boy on her doorstep with her sister’s eyes. Petunia raised a young man who had eyes of his very own).

Petunia snapped and burnt the eggs at breakfast. She worked too hard and knew all the neighbors’ worst secrets. Her bedtime stories didn’t quite teach the morals growing boys ought to learn: be suspicious, be wary; someone is probably out to get you. You owe no one your kindness. Knowledge is power and let no one know you have it. If you get can get away with it, then the rule is probably meant for breaking.

Harry grew up loved. Petunia still ran when the letters came. This was her nephew, and this world, this letter, these eyes, had killed her sister. When Hagrid came and knocked down the door of some poor roadside motel, Petunia stood in front of both her boys, shaking. When Hagrid offered Harry a squashed birthday cake with big, kind, clumsy hands, he reminded Harry more than anything of his cousin.

His aunt was still shaking but Harry, eleven years and eight minutes old, decided that any world that had people like his big cousin in it couldn’t be all bad. “I want to go,” Harry told his aunt and he promised to come home.

Keep reading

what’s the point of tragedy if i can’t kiss you through it?

(read the poem here)

freeform fic about these two crazy kids at the end of the world. it’s sappy and maybe a tiny bit angsty.

read on ao3

The end of the world occurs slowly and too fast all at once.

It jumped on them quick enough, barely giving them time to prepare, and now, when they’re all out of options and have resigned themselves that this is really it, it stops, Slowing, slinking, slithering. Like a cat playing with its prey in those final moments before it rips its head off.

The heat comes four days after the black rain, and he’s not sure which is worse.

They end up losing around eighteen people to the rain, and then several more are picked off by heatstroke. They don’t have enough drinkable water and they’re all dropping like flies. By the time they accept that this is it, the end is really here, they’ve lost forty three of their people while dozens more are symptomatic.

There are no more funerals. It’s hard to be poetic in the wake of death about people you knew when you’re burning bodies every morning and night.

Arkadia is grey and morose and as soon as there’s a glimmer of good enough weather, they leave, ferrying people across to Becca’s island in droves, a mass exodus. There’s nothing left for people to do, just sit and wait with their loved ones for the death wave.

Bellamy is amongst the last to leave, and it feels a bit like that day at the dropship. A failed trip to the ocean then, a successful one now.

The heat has started to creep back in and they run out of water before they hit the shore. He shrugs out of his jacket, has half the mind to shrug out of his shirt too, but the sun is stinging and it’s an honest to god toss up about whether perpetual stickiness or mild sunburn is worse. In the end he compromises by dribbling water over his head before boarding the boat that will take them away once and for all.

He only does the bare minimum of updating Kane on their status, instead feeling the weariness settle deep in his bones and letting it consume him. He only wakes up when the ride gets rough as they approach the dock.

He’s still half asleep, in a daze and everything feels like it’s underwater. He’s still trying to gather his bearings when a body crashes into him, almost sending them stumbling into the sand.

Bellamy always forgets just how small Clarke really is. She always makes herself known, her presence alone is enough to fill any room, but whenever he holds her like this, he realises. His arms cover the entire span of her back while her head slots neatly underneath his chin, and she must have taken a bath not too long ago because her hair is soft and clean.

Clarke Griffin is just a girl and sometimes even he forgets that.

“This is really happening,” she sniffs, lips brushing against his neck, “We’re all really going to die.”

Bellamy doesn’t know what to tell her and instead pulls her closer, screwing his eyes shut.

Keep reading


     (~ ̄▽ ̄)~ ◤Alex Høgh Imagine!◢ ~( ̄▽ ̄~)

              ◈ As Requested by the kind @ateliefloresdaprimavera ◈

Just so everyone knows I do accept requests for imagines as long as I know the Fandom to some extent. Instead of listing them how about just shoot me an ask and see if I know it. Don’t be scared, I don’t bite. Much ★~(◡‿◕✿)

➠ ➠ ➠ Imagine ➠ ➠ ➠

          The notorious Ivar the Boneless actually has a sister! Well all four of the sons have a sister in reality. And Y/N is cast to play the adult version of this pivotal character in the famous show Vikings.

A bastard child of Aslaug and Harbard, the stories characters are aware that Dagmar (the illegitimate child) is not born of Ragnar Lothbrok’s doing. Between begging from Aslaug and what humanity Ragnar holds, the small girl is spared and reared in the family of four boys even though she is only their half sister. 

           In script Dagmar, played by you Y/n, is beyond valuable. This girl grows up playing both sides of the Ragnarssons but finds solace in helping Ivar physically and emotionally during childhood up until the day their mother dies. This on screen relationship is beautiful and complex and no fan doesn’t root for the brother sister duo that conquers the viking world along side the other four Sons of Ragnar. 

However, off screen, a platonic sibling relationship is not where you saw yours and Alex’s relationship stopping. On screen or off screen your chemistry together is undeniable. Out of character Y/N and Alex compliment each other as well as Ivar and Dagmar does. But it doesn’t take long for the media to pick up the ‘More than Friends’ vibe you both give off.

               ·•● Awkward Interview Impending! ●•·

“Is this thing on?” Alex waves his hand in front of the small studio camera set up, cocking his head to the side like a bird in front of the lens grinning from ear to ear, “Are we on?”

“Just a second Mr. Andersen,” a woman behind the camera cuts a line through the air horizontally to indicate nothing is rolling yet.

“How about a pre-interview warm up?” Across from Alex was a slender man dressed dapper in a pin stripe suit, shuffling the papers on his lap the man looked back across at Alex lounged sprawled out on the love seat in front of him, “Do you mind answering just a few nonchalant questions?”

“Sure!” Exuberant to start talking Alex swings his feet back in front of him and flat on the floor. Leaning in on his elbows the goofy Danish actor beams a smile over to the interviewer, “What kinds of things would you like to know?”

“Oh the ordinary, how is it working with the History Channel crew? Are you already filming for season five? Will the fans be happy to hear Ivar the Boneless is back in the limelight?” Pleasantly listing off ideas the interviewer had jotted down, the man figured breaking in the twenty two year old with overview questions would make it a smooth transition when Alex did so in front of a running camera.

Clapping his hands together it was all excitement while Alex sat at the edge of his seat, “The entire department has been so much fun to work with! Everyone is so supportive and so good at what they do! My mind is blown with these make up and hair artists, I mean, wow I didn’t even know my hair could do that.” Expounding with a huge grin Alex looked over when the man asked about his co-stars, “They are all, just absolutely amazing. I cannot amend them enough, Marco, Jordan, David. Coming onto set and having to fulfill this, this legacy basically, that Travis Fimmel grew Ragnar into. Phew man,” Shaking his head Alex sat back with a little astounded look on his face, “It’s surreal, it really truly is.”

“Any blossoming romanced on set?” unable to hide the coy smile from Alex the interviewer tossed the simple question out without second thought, “Seems the chemistry Ivar and sister Dagmar have is really backed by the fans.”

“Oh, Y/N,” a crimson dusting of blush bloomed on Alex’s cheeks, a goofy grin following closely, “Dagmar is an amazing character played by an equally amazing actress.” Casting his eyes down to his hands Alex fiddled with his knuckles mindlessly, “Y/N is beyond great to work with, it made all those early morning shoots worth it.”

“There was a little excerpt,” The interviewer paused and shuffled through his papers on his lap until the man pulled out a half sheet folded in the middle, “Ah yes, you both enjoyed a little break out in Dublin during a vacation off set. Things are getting pretty chummy I take it?”

What blush Alex had now spread to the rest of his face and there was little denying the effect bringing up Y/N had on the giddy young man, “She is, I mean, this isn’t live right? Jeesh that woman is something else. I love doing scenes with her, wardrobe with her, car pools together. Y/N never misses a beat, always up for something knew and she gets along with Marco and Jordan so well. Hah I know on set crushes were never a good thing but-”

Like a little squeak the camera woman was hardly heard above Alex’s narrative, “Mr. Andersen-”

“I mean meeting your soul mate at twenty two?? Is that even realistic?! Yet alone meeting them on a set about bloody viking history? Heh,” Alex’s eyes were glazed over, completely forgetting he was in line to shoot an interview for an article about the next season of Vikings, “I love her, I really really do. She just-”

“Mr. Andersen!” brash about her second interruption the woman looked sheepishly at her comrade doing the interview and then over at the Danish actor. Both men looked up simultaneously to the woman, “I uh….we’ve been live that entire last part-”

“What!” completely red in the face Alex was about to leap from the chair when he felt the sudden vibrate of his cellphone in his pocket. Desperate to fish the phone out, Alex fumbled with it to light up the screen.

Illuminated bright bold letters across the screen it read Y/N number.

Recounting everything he’d just spewed out to the small group he was with, Alex’s heart skipped a beat when it sunk in, “Oh my god Y/N heard it all!”

✎ I have so much fun writing these. I hope you Alex/Ivar fans enjoyed!

✉ ✉ ✉ Send yours in or give me ideas I love it all 。◕‿◕。

Grammy's After-Party

A/N: I apologize in advance that this is so short.

Pairing: Reader x Justin Bieber

Request: ‘Can u pls write an imagine were y/n and justin just came back from an award show to y/daaigter’s/n and u r all just cuddling in bed like y/n is cuddling y/d/n and justin is cuddling y/n from behind Idk make it super cute pls
I love ur imagines 😍😍😍

Warnings: none, mostly fluff


“It’s alright Justin. There’s always next year,” I reassured him. Justin was nominated in multiple categories tonight but, seemed to not win any of them. I could tell he was a little upset but, it wasn’t anything too major. We walked out of the arena together and waited for the valet to fetch our car. 

“I don’t need an award when I have you and {Y/D/N}. You two are all I need.” Justin spoke up. He pulled my closer to his body and I rested my head on his shoulder. It’s been a long night for everyone, I’m sure. He might’ve been walking out of here award less but, he had me. I was the only award he needed. 

Our car pulled up to where we stood and Justin opened the door for me. I silently thanked him while getting into the car. He went over to his side and we left the area before it got overpopulated. 

The car ride was silent for the most part, the car radio was playing in the background. “How much money do you want to bet that {Y/D/N} is still up?” I broke the silence. Justin and I had a thing for making bets with each other. I always won. 

“I’m not betting with you because you always win. I’m not dumb,” Justin replied. We pulled into our driveway and he shut off the ignition. “Thanks for accompanying me tonight. Means a lot.” I smiled at him before getting out the car to walk to the front door. 

An individual on the other side already opened the door catching me off guard. It was the babysitter Justin hired. “Back so soon?” She questioned, removing herself from the door frame so we could walk in. “I actually just got her into bed but, if you want to see her then be my guest. Well, she’s your kid so, be your own guest." 

I furrowed my eyebrows before laughing. "Thanks for your help Penny. Justin will pay you. Have a good night.” I took off the heels that I was wearing because my feet were killing me. They were literally screaming help. I walked up the stairs quietly to where {Y/D/N} normally slept. 

“Hey loveb-" 

I stopped short when I noticed that she wasn’t there. 

I walked out the room and then went into the room Justin and I shared. And of course, there she was, snuggled up in the white sheets. I leaned against the wall, watching her from afar. I loved being a mother. 

"Penny is really something else—what are you doing..?” Justin asked, walking into the room. I nodded my head in the bed direction and he got the message. “Oh, I see. We should join her, shouldn’t we?” I scoffed before walking over to the bed, lying down with {Y/D/N}. Justin came in momentarily and we all lied comfortably. We technically were spooning each other. I held {Y/D/N} while Justin held me. We were one, big, happy family. I couldn’t ask for a night to end any better.

This isn’t the first time I talk about Sanji’s question “do you love me?” around here, but I think it’s worth briging it again within a new perspective, and, of course, it fits the prompt perfectly.

Everyone remembers these lighthearted moments, when Sanji does something amazing, usually after making an epic entrance, he usually asks Nami if she is impressed, or rather, if she fell in love with him. ^^

Despite Sanji being a natural ladiesman and, unfortunately, someone who uses the word “love” too much (which makes some skeptical readers believe that he sees all the women the same), it’s curious that, despite being around with Vivi, Robin, Viola, Pudding and many others, he only asked Nami if his love is returned.

When Sanji talks with Ivankov in Kamabakka Kingdom (chapter 595), he states that he isn’t the type of guy that would be friends with the ladies, he was born into this world to “love” them. That’s why I believe it’s just part of his character to say that he “loves” Vivi, Robin, all the mermaids in Fishman Island or that he was in “love” when he was with Viola. And of course, he said he loves Nami more times than he said with anyone else. 

But my point is, when Sanji said that to Ivankov, I believe he is stating his principles, that he should love the ladies unconditionally. After all, he was born to love them, he doesn’t require them to return his feelings, like a willing servant, bearing in mind the respective proportions and obvious exceptions, I’m using the word in a good and selfless sense. ^^

But with Nami, it doesn’t seem to be exactly like that. He constantly teases her and only her if she has deeper feelings for him (in Alabasta, in Skypiea, in Enies Lobby, in Fishman Island) or wonder if she would confess her feelings for him (Punk Hazard) and, more recently, wondering if she would want to propose him (Whole Cake Island). I’m not sure if Sanji is aware or if he is acting unconsciously, but it seems to me, that Nami is “the one”. If you are a servant, you can love all the women or even all the people in the world even if they don’t love you back. But the love of your life, is the only one you’d really want your feelings returned. In other words, if Sanji is like a willing servant for all the ladies, he doesn’t want to be just a servant for Nami, he wants something else, her love. And I believe that’s the key for Sanji’s growth as a character.

And if you bring all that together with the fact that Sanji doesn’t mind risking his life and sacrificing himself for Nami, which, oddly or not, he only did that for her (Drum Kingdom, Skypiea, Thriller Bark), you may reach the same conclusion as me: that Nami is special to Sanji. 

So, perhaps, everytime Sanji questions Nami if she loves him back, he is actually confessing his love for her. ^^

And, of course, we couldn’t end this post without saying that, even if’s a gag or not (we can blame Sanji for asking during the worst moments), Nami never answered Sanji with a no. And she dodged the question other two times… 

And every time she answered Sanji with “yes”, later she would hit Sanji and form a heart-shaped bumps:

Not long after they escape, Nami hits him and we have this:

In Fishman Island, Sanji teases her again only to receive another yes:

After the battle and the party, when Nami hits him we have this:

I guess in the end, both have their particular ways to confess their feelings. :D

some doodle-y warmups of @cat-pun‘s Ophelia (drawn with minimal reference forgive me)

Morgan Rielly - You know I love you right?

Could you write something about Morgan Rielly where the reader isn’t really good with compliments or affection and isn’t big on Pda and stuff but one day she comes home and just starts cuddling up with Morgan and she’s so sleepy and just tells him all the things she loves about him and Morgan’s just so ?? And !! Because he’s so happy and he’s so not used to it :’)

By the time you got to your boyfriend Morgan’s house all you could think of was sleep. You spend all night last night writing your paper for your Psych class. You sadly didn’t get much sleep and all you wanted do do was to go home to your boyfriend who was fresh off a plane from his week long work trip. 

Morgan was sitting on the couch with his feet on the coffee table, remote in hand. 

“Hey, baby!” He said once he saw you walk in.

“Hey.” You said while walking over to the couch and laying your head on his lap and placing your feet on the other side of the couch. You wrapped one arm around his back and the other draped down by his legs. 

“Umm, not that I don’t love this but what did you do with my girlfriend?” He laughed as he placed his hand in your hair. 

“I just had a really shitty week and I’m just really glad to see you.” You said still laying one him. 

“I’ll take it.” He smiled. 

He clicked through the channels some more before he turned off the t.v and got up. 

“Nooo.” You whined.

“Let’s go to bed hon.” He said grabbing your hand and placing a kiss to the top of your head. 

You two climbed the stairs and got ready for bed. Before long you two were wrap up in each others arms again. Your eyes half close. 



“I love you, you know that right. I know that I might not always show it by holding your hand in public. Or telling your how much I love when you get nervous you do this thing with your left hand were you rub it on your jeans. Or when your happy your eye’s turn a gray color and your cheeks turn bright red. And when your scared but you say you aren’t you do this thing were you look to the side like your waiting for someone to pop out.” You smiled. 

“Wow!” Morgan said looking down at you.

“What?” You said running your finger down his naked chest. 

“For someone who never show PDA a lot sure knows how to make her boyfriend fall more in love with her every day. God you are something else. I love you Y/N.” Morgan said before he heard the small snores escape from your mouth.


Originally posted by tknecny

So, I saw Phantom for my birthday a few weeks ago at the Baltimore HIppodrome. I loved the entire show, but I think my favorite part was definitely Wandering Child, specifically the bit where the Phantom tries his “come to me angel of music” shtick on Christine only to be interrupted by Raoul. 

Now, I’ve seen a few versions of Phantom, and they mostly seem to feature Raoul breaking the Phantom’s hold on Christine by calling out to her in an anguished tone, or grabbing her hand, or something else that emphasizes their love. Not this Raoul, though. This Raoul decided to go for the root of the problem and sucker punch the Phantom of the fucking Opera right in the face. 

So last night we watched Elijah Wood’s new movie on Netflix and now I want Ruth/Tony fic and there is no Ruth/Tony fic to be had. Why you gotta fail me like this, fandom? Why?

anonymous asked:

Hi:) I just saw that excerpt from Lauren Sarner’s review and thought I’d add my two cents about Silver’s motivations – I don’t think it’s just about Silver’s relationship with Madi and his love for her outweighing everything else. I think, if something similar had happened in episode 3, he wouldn’t have turned on Flint to save her, even though he already loved her then. But this is the second time in the last few episodes that Flint explicitly asked Silver to trust him (1/3)

and told him what to do with the cache. The first time Silver went along with Flint’s plan, clearly against his instincts, and ultimately paid a heavy price for it as he had to sacrifice someone close to him for it (regardless of what we think about Billy, he still considered him his friend). And Flint and Eleanor’s plan blew up in their faces spectacularly. I don’t think anybody could have predicted the Spanish invasion, but ultimately it had been fundamentally flawed from the beginning, because as Jack pointed out at the beach, it completely misjudged Rogers’ character. So when the situation repeats itself, and this time the personal stakes for Silver are even higher, he does go with his instincts. Sorry that this is so long-winded, but I just wanted to provide a different perspective:)

I agree with all of this, yes. I think there might be even more to Silver’s behavior because he’s being extremely irrational and emotional over the whole situation and I think we might find out more about it when they introduce his backstory. This can’t be just about his undying love for Madi, although that is the main motivator. He’s been struggling with trust during the whole series, but especially this season when the stakes are higher than they’ve ever been for him. He cares for Flint, he trusts him, but every decision Flint had made so far was approached with caution and a significant amount of doubt on Silver’s part because he finally, intimately understands how important this is to Flint and it clashes with Silver’s perception of the situation. He’s not convinced anymore that what Flint wants is the same thing he wants. Essentially, they’re the same person now, both driven by love to the point it makes them reckless, except their motives are on the opposite ends of the spectrum. Flint can’t stop the fight because he loves, Silver can’t start the war because he loves. But what I find so god damn heartbreaking about all this is that, regardless of Silver’s instincts, regardless of their emotions, every action leads to the same outcome - the war. 

(I’m going slightly off topic now)

Flint had tried to go for peace, twice, and both times it blew up in his face and advanced their war. Had Silver not agreed to the cache exchange the first time, it wouldn’t have changed much either. They would’ve defeated Rogers perhaps, but that wouldn’t have stopped the upcoming war. In fact it would’ve set it in motion. The pirates and the maroons were already gathering on the island with the idea to unleash hell on the colonies when this went down. Silver’s instinct in this matter now is purely acted on for personal reasons. He’s not thinking about the bigger picture anymore, he’s emotionally compromised and it’s clouding his judgment. He’s forgetting that this war is not just Flint’s war as he keeps stressing out. It’s his too, it’s Madi’s, it’s her mother’s, it’s every man and woman’s who have agreed to join the cause. He’s forgetting that Flint and Madi both have a responsbility now. As I said once before, Flint got cornered by his own agenda. He set this in motion (on Silver’s insistence!!) and he now has to play the part. Yes, Flint is also driven by personal (romantic) notions, but it’s equally understandable because he’s been fighting for ten years now, it’s all he knows. He could’ve let go before, he did let go for a while, but he can’t now. Not when he has a countless army at his back. ‘’Things have changed.’’ Not only is it expected of him to lead them, he wants to lead now. It’s like he’s been given the victory on a platter and the hunger is stronger than him. (However, I do believe he’s still the more rational of the two at the moment and that his concern for Silver and Madi is 100% genuine.)

Madi, too, has to play her part in this. She’s not just an extension of Silver here, she’s her own person and this war is simply too important because despite everything she’s still a queen of her people first. What I found interesting was how Silver acknowledged this, that she matters in this war as much as any of them do, and yet he knowingly disregarded her decision on the matter by doing what she wouldn’t want to do. Flint, on the other hand, didn’t. He was right in his assumption that Madi wouldn’t permit Rogers to separate them and we know this because Mr. Scott warned her that if turned against each other, the damage Silver and Flint could do would be off the charts and they cannot allow that. She cannot permit that without risking the lives of her people. And we also know this because Madi told Rogers that she will die fighting against his regime (however, I believe that in that moment she didn’t want to give Rogers the satisfaction of having won, and if given the choice between an unwinnable war and peace with a loved one (what Eleanor talked about) she’d have chosen the latter (or she might not even be given a choice)). 

The point is, both Silver and Flint are being stupid in their decisions. Flint, as rational and smart as he is about the importance of the alliance, won’t be satisfied with Nassau anymore because there’s a chance at more, and Silver is disregarding the inevitable, essentially turning against everyone and destroying their ranks because he can’t lose the person he loves. Madi might not agree with either in the end. It’s not certain whether she’d agree with Flint’s decision to exceed the parameters of the war and risk all their lives, and because Silver went against her beliefs and completely disregarded the alliance that she worked so hard on salvaging I can’t imagine she’d be pleased with him either. Whatever happens now it’s gonna be a damn roller coaster ride that goes straight through hell, no doubt.

Sorry that got longer than I expected too, I was mostly just trying to piece the story for myself. I might be wrong in my assumptions here because the story from this point on is completely unpredictable and everything changes so quickly I’m struggling to comprehend the narrative because we’re missing the vital pieces of the puzzle. Phew.

“Think we’ll always be friends?”

He’s greeted with a rueful smile as she snaps her book shut and shakes her head. “Probably not. Always means eternal and eternal lacks meaning all together.”

He grins. “Be still my heart, I can feel the love from here.”

“Love is something else entirely,” she muses, picking up her book once more. “It’s a nice thought though.”

Tilting his head to the side, he murmurs in agreement and a beat of silence passes before he speaks again. “So think we’ll ever fall in love?”

She doesn’t glance up from her reading but he can see her mouth twitching into her trademark shy smile. “Yes. It’s only a matter of time.”

He nods thoughtfully and grins once more. It’s all he does when he’s with her.

Imagine you're Servant for the Prince

Requests 39: 2 “Imagine You’re a Servant Working in the Palace” and 34-6 “A story where a woman is forced to give intense birth to the same baby multiple times.”

Only a few weeks ago the young Edea secured employment as a kitchen maid for the prince. The youngest son of the King, Prince Aterio’s prospects of ruling WERE very slim yet he still has a title, lands, and of course a modest chateau requiring staff. Having no family of her own, Edea knew her position in the castle was the only security she had in the world and did her best to keep her head down and focus on her work. The kitchen, naturally, was always a hub of gossip and through she never took part, she could not help but overhear the kitchen ladies and house maids  the prince and certain…stories.

They say he, though very handsome, has yet to find a suitable bride due to his low standing. Of course, some add, it’s not JUST his standing…but the fact that he   engaged in the study of magic and Dark Arts. There were always shipments and crates arriving from distant countries: powders, potions, strange objects, and various occult artifacts  carried up to his private chambers above where none in the kitchen had set foot. The talk alone filled Edea with dread and she silently prayed to never be ‘summoned’ to his apartments above…

Of course, Edea could not lie to herself: she found Prince Aterio very handsome. There were moments when she did see him, in the corridor or during his meals when she helped served him, and in those moments she could not help but blush and feel herself grow slightly hot. Sometimes she would catch him eyeing her as well, a small smile on his lips as he silently watched her ladling the soup or carrying trays, which only forced Edea to focus on her work with even more intensity. She was not stupid: Edea knew only too well what happened to young maids seduced by nobles. Few rolls in his grand bed or perhaps a toss in the hay had many a girl out on the street with a royal bastard growing in her belly.  As the months went on, and Aterio’s interest slowly grew, Edea began to worry about her own security. Marriage was her only option so she started to eye up the stable hands, or perhaps the blacksmith’s son. He was always kind to her…

Edea’s dream of security, however, came to a bizarre end. The Prince was to entertain the Lady Ystelle of Barnea in the hopes of wedding her; the entire household was agog with activity in preparation of her arrival. The kitchens were complete madness the day before her arrival and Edea was in the middle of preparing cherry tarts when Rosa, the head cook, rushed to her with a crystal decanter

“Take this to the Prince!” she cried, “I cannot believe I forgot to send him his nightly sherry! Quick, girl! Use the shortcut passage by the library!” Edea took the decanter and rushed off up towards the library. The thought of approaching Aterio turned her heart into a sparrow beating against a window and she hoped that she could find another house servant to pass the duty onto. Ducking into the passage, her eyes fought to adjust to the dim light. The chateau was full of these narrow little passages and Edea prayed she took the right one. It should exit by the Amethyst Drawing Room, and then the stairs to the Prince’s private apartments is just to the left…


In her haste and panic, not to mention the poor lighting, Edea failed to notice someone else coming towards her in the tight corridor. She collided hard against the figure, causing the decanter to fly out of her hand and smash on the stone steps behind her. The other person must have been carrying something as well: a silver tray tipped up onto Edea and she felt liquid spill on her face, neck, and breasts. A small glass bottle bounced off her bodice and joined the smashed crystal on the ground.

“ Why you-” Edea started, ready to explode her wrath on the clumsy fool who wrecked into her and spilt god-knows-what all over her outfit and ruining the prince’s drink, when a hand shot out and forcefully grabbed her chin.

“ What was that?” asked Prince Aterio, “A silly, little kitchen girl is mad at me because she wasn’t pay attention where she was headed? Hmm?”

Edea’s eyes were wide as saucers; she had crashed into the Prince! The girl stammers as she looked into Aterio’s eyes: he does not appear pleased in the slightest.

“ Do you know know what you’ve just spilled, my little cook?” he hisses, lowering his face to hers. “ Why, nothing really…just a very special and powerful potion concocted from rare and expensive ingredients! A very…special potion indeed.” His eyes trailed down her body and Edea feel weak with terror.

“Please, your highness!” she begged, “ Please don’t cast me out! I’ll…I’ll make it up to you! I’ll work for no wages! Forgive me!”

She wasn’t not sure but she detected a slight smile on Aterio’s face before he grabed her wrist, forcing a cry from her lips, and jerked her back through the passage towards the exit.

“ Oh ho ho,” he laughed as he pushed the panel open and they emerged into the Amethyst Room. “I’m sure you’ll make it up to me, love.” Edea tried to struggle from his steel grasp when the opulent sitting room began to spin, Edea collapsing against a purple wing-backed chair. Her mind felt muddled and she felt her panic rise as the realization dawned on her: she had been poisoned! Aterio must have planned on using this on the Lady Barnea to have his way with her but instead Edea was now the victim. Slumped on the floor, she tried to cry for help but could only softly moan. The Prince collected her up in his arms and carried out into the corridor and up towards his chambers above. “ Don’t worry,” he softly laughed, “ I’ll take care of you.”

In her haze Edea vaguely made out the rough details of his apartments: books lining the walls, beautiful hanging tapestries, the carved posts and curtains of a bed as she laid upon soft blankets and pillows. She tried to raise a limb but her whole body was paralyzed. Edea looked up into the prince’s eyes and saw them sparkle with pleasure and perhaps desire.

“Please…don’t…” she weakly whispered.

“Do not worry, little cook,” he softly replied, “ I’m not that monstrous…but I’m no saint either.“  Aterio turned and walked over to a small table to the side. There were the sounds of clinking glass and he returned with a small cup in his hand. Aterio lifted Edea’s head and placed the silver cup to her lips. "Now drink.”

It tasted terrible but as Edea sipped the liquid her body slowly became hers again and relief washed over her. Sighing, she closed her eyes and laid back on the plush pillows of Aterio’s bed and save silent thanks for the existence of antidotes. However, her thanks were interrupted as the prince’s hands gently ran over the front of your bodice.

“Your highness,” she opened her eyes and looked into Aterio’s pale and handsome face. “Please, I beg you…I’m just a kitchen ma-”

“Do you know,” he softly interrupted, fingers now tracing her face, “what was in that potion you happened to spill all over you?” Edea quietly shook her head in reply and Aterio gently kissed her forehead. “ Of course not: you make pies not potions. Well, my dove, it was a special potion I was to have mixed into the wine specially selected for Ystelle tomorrow night.”

“A..a..love potion?!” she gasp. Aterio simply laughed and began kissing her neck. Edea let out a soft moan, despite her reservations. His right hand squeezed her breast and began to slowly undo the ties of her bodice.

“No, no, no…no silly love potions. No, your prince had something else in mind. A potion, a special potion, one that will let him have complete control over her body. Whatever I command; it does.”

“Is that…what you’re doing now?” Edea murmured, her whole body becoming hot with desire. “Making me not resist you?”

“Oh hohoho no. That’s all you! No I have other…purposes.”

“Such as?”

Aterio, having undone the front of her bodice, paused and looked up into Edea’s eyes. There was a look of danger, of desire…

“ How do you feel…about giving birth?”

Edea’s eyes widened with fear. She pushed the prince away and pulled her knees up to her body. Aterio sat up, genuinely surprised and concerned by her reaction. Tears began to well in her eyes.

“No, please my Prince! I cannot have a royal bastard! What will everyone think? Where will I go?!” Edea began to cry, envisioning the life of shame she would have to live carrying the prince’s child. Aterio took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped her eyes.

“ What is your name, little cook?” he gently asked.


“Well, Edea, I understand your reason and like I said before, I’m not a complete monster. I asked you because…you see, I happen to have certain…tastes that may not be deemed appropriate in polite society.” You said nothing but looked on with intrigue, prompting Aterio to continue “ I…happen to…enjoy every aspect of pregnancy. Even the moment of birth. In fact, I would say…that is my ultimate favorite part. Do you…understand?”

Edea looked at the prince for a moment before nodding. She had never confessed it before but soon she began to tell him about her life before coming to his chateau. She was a foundling abandoned at a convent, thus raised with a number of other girls by the good-hearted nuns who also ran a hospital for the local poor. When Edea were only 16 she began assisting in the sisters in their clinic, which is where she first watched a woman labor for hours. It was such a difficult birth, the woman crowned for an hour before finally delivering a large, healthy babe. Edea never expected it but watching the birth aroused her more than anything before and that night she buried her face in her pillow as fingers worked manically to give relief. All Edea could do was imagine it was she struggling to bring the giant head to a crown, the baby fighting her with every push.

As Edea confessed her sinful fantasy for the first time on her life, the prince moved closer to her on the bed. As she finally completed her tale Aterio took her in his arms, face buried in her breasts. Edea gasped with desire as his hand slipped under her gown and made it’s way to her wet and aching sex.

“ It seems,” he purred as his fingers caressed your lips and clip, “I won’t be having a need for Ystelle after all.”

“ You can’t…marry the likes…of me!” Edea moan. Aterio wickedly smileed and undid his trousers. Edea, no longer terrified of carrying a royal baby, opened her legs to him and cried in a mixed of pleasure and pain as he entered her - he was her first after all.

“ Don’t worry about that!” he laughed as he began to thrust, “ By the end of tomorrow, you’ll be Lady Edea of Barnea and Ystelle will be a lowly kitchen girl!” Edea couldn’t make sense of his words, but the sensation of his cock filling her was she cared about at the present moment . Edea’s eyes rolled back in ecstasy as the prince fucked her in his bed. She ran her hands through his thick hair and loudly moaned in bliss.

“I’m going to fill you up with my child,” he growled, his thrusts becoming more intense. “Would you like that, Edea? Swollen with my baby?”

“…Please! Oh please, yes!” Edea cried with abandoment. Suddenly she was the woman in the convent, her womb swollen with the prince’s child. She could feel the baby’s head pressing against her lips, her head thrown back as she struggled to push, Aterio rubbing her belly with desire and kissing it as it heaves with each pain…

Edea violently climaxed: her whole body tensed up as waves of bliss crashed over her body. She gripped onto Aterio’s body, legs wrapped around his torso, and her scream of release echoed throughout the room and pushes the prince over the edge himself. He gave a roar as Edea felt his seed gush into her womb with abandon before collapsing into her. They lay still in the afterglow for a moment before Aterio breathlessly whispered into her ear: “You know…I may be falling in love with you…Edea…”

“Just give me a baby,” she softly replied, to which the prince simply laughed and kissed her.

–L. Wyvernic